The Last Despatch.

Hurrah! the Season's past at last;     At length we've "done" our pleasure.     Dear "Pater," if you only knew     How much I've longed for home and you,--     Our own green lawn and leisure!     And then the pets! One half forgets     The dear dumb friends--in Babel.     I hope my special fish is fed;--     I long to see poor Nigra's head     Pushed at me from the stable!     I long to see the cob and "Rob,"--     Old Bevis and the Collie;     And won't we read in "Traveller's Rest"!     Home readings after all are best;--     None else seem half so "jolly!"     One misses your dear kindly store     Of fancies quaint and funny;     One misses, too, your kind bon-mot;--     The Mayfair wit I mostly know     Has more of gall than honey!     How tired one grows of "calls and balls!"     This "toujours perdrix" wearies;     I'm longing, quite, for "Notes on Knox";     (Apropos, I've the loveliest box     For holding Notes and Queries!)     A change of place would suit my case.     You'll take me?--on probation?     As "Lady-help," then, let it be;     I feel (as Lavender shall see),     That Jams are my vocation!     How's Lavender? My love to her.     Does Briggs still flirt with Flowers?--     Has Hawthorn stubbed the common clear?--     You'll let me give some picnics, Dear,     And ask the Vanes and Towers?     I met Belle Vane. "HE'S" still in Spain!     Sir John won't let them marry.     Aunt drove the boys to Brompton Rink;     And Charley,--changing Charley,--think,     Is now au mieux with Carry!     And NO. You know what "No" I mean--     There's no one yet at present:     The Benedick I have in view     Must be a something wholly new,--     One's father's far too pleasant.     So hey, I say, for home and you!     Good-by to Piccadilly;     Balls, beaux, and Bolton-row, adieu!     Expect me, Dear, at half-past two;     Till then,--your Own Fond--MILLY.