Now, the word would be this--when the daylight is dawning,
Or, at any rate, when it's more early than late,
Pray remember the coachman, who, fitfully yawning
Outside in the street, finds it weary to wait.
You reck not at all of the hours that are fleeting,
You ask for an "extra"--you can't be denied.
But though, doubtless, soft nothings may set your heart beating,
Yet they're awfully cold for the people outside.
Want of thought, not of heart, is the reason as ever,
So if you find leisure to read through this rhyme,
When you order your carriage, in future endeavour
To prevent any waiting--by being in time,
* * * * *
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
The Publisher of _The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine_, earnestly
requests the reviewer, appealing to his heart in the reddest of red
ink, on a slip of paper pasted on to the cover of the Magazine, not
to extract and quote more than one column of "Talleyrand's Memoirs,"
which appear in this number for January. The Publisher of the
_C.
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