Absurd Ditties. Farrow George Edward

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      He'd heave a sympathetic sigh,

      And squeeze each bankrupt client's hand

      While listening to a tale of woe

      Salt tears within his eyes would stand.

      Naught, naught his sympathies could stem,

      And he would only charge – ahem! —

      A paltry six-and-eight to them.

      This gentleman, as I observed,

      Was calmly seated at his work,

      When, from the waiting-room, a card

      Was brought in by the junior clerk.

      "Nathaniel Blobbs? Pray ask him to

      Step in," said Webbe. "How do you do?

      A very pleasant day to you."

      "A pleasant day be hanged!" said Blobbs,

      A wealthy man and very stout

      (That he was boiling o'er with rage

      There could not be the slightest doubt).

      "I'm given, sir, to understand

      You're suitor for my daughter's hand.

      An explanation I demand!

      "I know your lawyer's tricks, my man;

      In courting of my daughter Jane —

      Who's rather plain and not too young —

      My money's what you seek to gain.

      Confound you, sir!" the man did roar.

      "My daughter Jane is no match for

      A beggarly solicitor!"

      At words like these most gentlemen

      Would really have been somewhat riled;

      But do not think that Mr. Webbe

      Was angry. No; he merely smiled.

      But, oh! my friends, the legal smile

      Is not to trust. 'Tis full of guile.

      (So smiles the hungry crocodile.)

      "I see," Webbe most politely said,

      "My worthy sir, your point of view.

      You're wealthy; I am poor. Of course,

      What I proposed would never do.

      If only, now, I'd property,

      And you were – well, as poor as me– "

      "Pooh! that," cried Blobbs, "can never be."

      "Think not?" said Webbe. "Well, p'r'aps you're right.

      And so – there's nothing more to say.

      You must be going? What! so soon?

      I'm sorry, sir, you cannot stay!"

      Blobbs went – and slammed the outer door.

      Webbe calmly made the bill out for

      The interview – a lengthy score.

      He charged – at highest legal rate —

      For every word he'd uttered; and

      He even put down six-and-eight

      "To asking for Miss Blobbs's hand";

      Next, in the Court of Common Pleas

      A "Breach of Promise" case, with ease,

      He instituted – if you please.

      He gained the day, because the maid

      Was over age, the Judge averred,

      And Blobbs was forced to "grin and pay,"

      Although he vowed 'twas most absurd.

      The "damages," of course, were slight;

      But "legal costs" by no means light.

      (Webbe shared in these as was his right.)

      Outside the Court indignant Blobbs

      Gave vent to some expressions which

      Were libellous, and quickly Webbe

      Was "down on him" for "using sich."

      Once more the day was Webbe's, and he,

      By posing as a damagee,

      Obtained a thousand pounds, you see.

      With this round sum he then contrived

      To buy a vacant small estate

      Adjoining Blobbs, who went and did

      Something illegal with a gate.

      Webbe "had him up" for that, of course;

      Then something else (about a horse),

      And later on a water-course.

      He sued for this, he sued for that,

      Till action upon action lay,

      And in the Royal Courts of Law

      "Webbe versus Blobbs" came on each day.

      "Law costs" and big "retaining fees,"

      "Mulcted in fines" – such things as these

      Made Blobbs feel very ill at ease.

      As Webbe grew rich, so he grew poor,

      Till finally he said: "Hang pride!

      I'll let this fellow, if he must,

      Have Jane, my daughter, for his bride."

      He went once more to Clifford's Inn.

      Webbe welcomed him with genial grin:

      "My very dear sir, pray step in."

      "Look here!" cried Blobbs. "I'll fight no more!

      You lawyer fellows, on my life,

      Will have your way. I must give in.

      My daughter Jane shall be your wife!"

      "Dear me! this is unfortunate,"

      Said Webbe. "I much regret to state

      Your condescension comes too late.

      "For, sir, I marry this day week

      (Being a man of property)

      The young and lovely daughter of

      Sir Simon Upperten, M.P."

      Then, in a light and airy way:

      "I think there's nothing more to say.

      Pray, mind the bottom step. Good day!"