If, like Ariadne, you'd give me a clue, Ma'am.
_I_'ll never--like treacherous Theseus--desert you;
My constancy's staunch, like my valour and virtue.
Through Fire, Water, Wilderness trackless I'll follow,
But astray in a Maze high ambition seems hollow!

* * * * *

WATERLOO TO WEYBRIDGE.

BY THE 6.5 P.M.

A young man--it's no matter who--
Hailed a cab and remarked "Waterloo!"
The driver, with bowed
Head, sobbed out aloud,
"Which station?" They frequently do.

A poet once said that to Esher
The only good rhyme was "magnesher;"
This was not the fact,
And he had to retract,
Which he did--he retracted with plesher.

A fancier cried: "There's one fault on
The part of the sparrows at Walton;
And that's why I fail
To put salt on their tail--
The birds have no tails to put salt on."