SEA SPRAY &> SMOKE DRIFT 



There's The Barb — you may talk of your 

 flyers and stayers, 

 All bosh — when he strips you can see his 

 eye range 

 Round his rivals, with much the same look as 

 Tom Sayers 

 Once wore, when he faced the big novice, 

 Bill Bainge. 

 Like Stow, at our hustings, confronting the 

 hisses 

 Of roughs, with his queer Mephistopheles' 

 smile ; 

 Like Baker or Baker's more wonderful Mrs, 

 The terror of blacksat the source of the N ile ; 

 Like Triton 'mid minnows ; like hawk among 

 chickens ; 

 Like — anything better than everything else; 

 He stands at the post. Now they're off! 

 the plot thickens ! 

 Quoth Stanley to Davis, " How is your 

 pulse ? " 

 He skims o'er the smooth turf, he scuds 

 through the mire, 

 He waits with them, passes them, bids 

 them good-bye ! 



I^O 



