When he practised first with it William almost had a fit, For the ball with sudden whim Started madly chasing _him_! "That's a game that I'll soon settle," William said; "my clubs are metal; Spoons and other clubs of wood Will be every bit as good."
Then he found to his dismay Every time he tried to play That the ball with sundry hoots Chased the hob-nails in his boots. Finally he had to use On his feet a pair of shoes Of a most peculiar shape Made of insulating tape.
So the final test arrives When once more he tees and drives. Joy! As soon as he has hit he Sees it toddling down the pretty, Never swerving left or right Till it waddles out of sight, Plodding through a bunker and Braying like a German band.
Reader, possibly you'll guess That the ball was a success. 'Twas in fact a super-sphere, But--I shed a scalding tear On these verses as I write 'em-- He forgot just _one_ small item Which (as small things often will) Simply put the lid on Bill: _For the hole proved far too small To accommodate his ball._
_Parson._ "WELL, THE LAW ALLOWS ME SEVEN-AND-SIXPENCE."
_Best Man._ "THEN 'ERE'S 'ARF-A-CRAHN. THAT MAKES IT UP TO 'ARF-A-QUID."]
"WANTED Situation by respectable middle-aged Girl; working housekeeper, can cook, bake; would not object to milk one cow (Protestant)."--_Ulster Paper._
"Having successfully towed the disabled American steamer Tashmoo 1,200 miles, the Fort Stephens, a Cunard steamer, arrived at Queenstown on Saturday."--_Daily Paper._
"Having successfully towed the disabled American steamer Tashmos, with which she fell in last Monday, 200 miles, the Fort Stephen, a Cunard steamer, arrived at Queenstown on Saturday."--_Same paper, same day._
"The King has notified his intention to command the attendance of Lieutenants of Counties and the Lord Mayors and the Lost Provosts of Great Britain, at Buckingham Palace on the 15th instant."--_Glasgow Paper._
Mr. Punch hopes that this additional publicity will lead to the recovery of the missing magistrates.
Literature is becoming so commercialised that it is to be expected that before long popular authors, who already surreptitiously practise the tradesman's art, will go a step further and write their own advertisements. No longer will they be content to get themselves interviewed on the subject of their next book, their new car and their favourite poodle, or to depend on the oleaginous eulogies of the publishers.