And you were born to set it right, though _not_ with "taste" and "point."
We cannot all do all things, Sir, and if you save the State
(As the great Twin Brethren mean to in despite of HARCOURT's hate),
What _does_ it matter, DICEY, if your letters are not quite
In that style epistolary, which our fathers called "polite"?
'Tis a little too meticulous--in you--and rather late,
After giving Mr. GLADSTONE such a wholesome slashing "slate."
Take heart of grace, dear DICEY, and don't let Sir WILLIAM's "point"
In your tough (if tasteless) armour find a vulnerable joint.
"Old Timbertoes" won't trouble, Sir, to wish that _you_ were dead,
And his taste (_not_ point) forbids him to call you "Old Wooden-head!"

* * * * *

KEEP WATCH!

[A Visitor fishing off Deal Pier brought up a gold watch
and chain on his hook. It is supposed to be one lost by a
resident, but the lucky angler has not been seen since.]

Paradoxical portent! Most worthy of rhyme
Is this fortunate angler who tried to kill time.
Fate made him the offer, and, wisely, he book'd it;
He not only killed time, but he caught it,--and "hook'd it."

* * * * *

[Illustration: MR. PUNCH VISITS SCARBOROUGH SPA.]

* * * * *