Then
ADOLF hurries up surreptitiously, and whispers, "Tell you vat, Sare:
to-morrer you shoost dine on de terass; dere, plenty breeze, hein?"
"Plenty breeze!"--and you pay three francs extra, and catch a cold.
* * * * *
SIGH NO MORE, LOTTIE.
["The disinfecting process has ruined all the dresses of Miss
COLLINS."--_New York Telegram_.]
Sigh no more, LOTTIE, sigh no more,
Those gowns have gone for ever;
You've cut some capers on that shore
That you expected never;
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
To Tarara--boom--de nonny.
Sing that vile ditty yet once more,
And win almighty dollars
From Yankees who have spoilt your store
Of frocks, frills, cuffs and collars;
The air will run in their heads like one
O'clock, till it makes the same ache.
While on you shines prosperity's sun.
Your Tarara-boom-de hay make!
* * * * *
AT THE PATTENMAKERS' BANQUET.--At the Court Dinner of the
Pattenmakers, held at the Metropole. the eulogies of the Worshipful
Master, Sir AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS (now Master of Horse at Drury Lane),
were plentiful, and he had a considerable amount of _patten_ on the
back from all his guests. The great dish of the evening was _Partridge
au Patten_, an English substitute for _Perdrix au chou_.
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