_BY A SCIENTIFIC RAIN-MAKER._
[It is stated that rain may be brought down by the explosion
of dynamite and blasting-powder attached to oxyhydrogen
balloons and kite-tails.]
Evening red and morning grey
Will send the traveller on his way;
But--blasting-powder on kites' tails spread,
Will bring down rain upon his head.
_RETORT BY A WASHED-OUT WAYFARER._
If dynamite would bring _fine_ weather,
Scientists might be in fine feather,
As 'tis, I sing, to the schoolboy tune,
"Yah-bah! (oxyhydrogen) balloon!"
* * * * *
FATHER AND SON.
(_A POSSIBLE DIALOGUE AFTER A RECENT DECISION AT MARYLEBONE._)
_Father_. And now, my dear Son, I must ask you for your rent.
_Son_. But surely, Father, I am entitled to a room in your house?
_Father_. Out of my love and affection; but this is a matter of
business; and, if you desire to be a Voter, you must behave as such.
[Illustration]
_Son_. But I have had some difficulty in scraping up enough to pay
you.
_Father_. Surely, eighteen shillings a-week is a reasonable sum for an
apartment, however small, in Mayfair?
_Son_. I do not deny it; still it seems hard that I should be mulcted
to that extent some fifty times a-year.
_Father_. I cannot see the hardship, _nor_ the money!
_Son_. If you really want it, it is here.
[_Produces a pocket-book, from which he takes sufficient
change to satisfy the claim.
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