"
You came at last, long last, to end my fretting,
And now you know how your devoted bard
Faced for your sake the risk of fine or getting
An unaccustomed dose of labour (hard);
Harbour no more that idiotic notion
That love to-day is unromantic, flat;
Gave _Lancelot_ such a proof of his devotion,
Did _Galahad_ do that?
* * * * *
PAMELA'S ALPHABET.
_Scene._--A DOMESTIC INTERIOR.
Pamela's _father, in one armchair, is making a praiseworthy effort to
absorb an article in a review on "The Future of British Finance." In
another armchair_ Pamela's _mother is doing some sort of mending._
Pamela _herself, stretched upon the hearthrug, is reading aloud
interesting extracts from a picture-book._
_Pamela_ (_in a cheerful sing-song_). A for Donkey; B for Dicky.
_Her Father._ What sort of dicky?
_Pamela_ (_examining the illustration more closely_). All ugly black,
bissect for his blue mouf.
_Her Mother_ (_instructively_). Not blue; yellow. And it's a beak, not a
mouth.
_Pamela._ I calls it a mouf. He's eating wiv it. (_With increasing
disfavour_) A poor little worm he's eating.
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