SCENE--_A Crowded Thoroughfare._ _Enter_ STREPHON _and_ PHYLLIS
_on bicycles, at the rate of fifteen miles an hour_.
_Strephon._
We care not, PHYLLIS, my own, to-day,
For walking in Kensington Park,
To flirt in the old conventional way,
And saunter home in the dark.
Nay, pleasanter far it is to "scorch"--
To hear your silvery bell,
While the answering squeak of my horn may speak
For the fact that I love you well!
_Both._
Oh, isn't it sweet to clear the street,
While elderly persons frown!
"Now, stoopid, look out!" we pleasantly shout,
And bang goes a gentleman down!
_Phyllis._
STREPHON, I love you, I confess,
For who could fail to admire
The humorous way you spoil a dress
And ruin a girl's attire?
To see you silently creep along,
And then with a burst of speed
Spread liberal dirt on the feminine skirt
Is a sight for the gods, indeed!
_Both._
Oh, isn't it glee to do it, and see
The lady-pedestrian flinch,
With jubilant rush to scatter the slush
And miss her foot by an inch!
_Strephon._
I frightened those horses, I'm much afraid,--
The excellent coachman's riled!
_Phyllis._
And I've demolished a nursery-maid,
And certainly hurt a child!
_Strephon._
I made that stately dowager jump,
She leapt to one side, and puffed!
_Phyllis._
That leisurely cur, I'm inclined to infer,
To-morrow will go to be stuffed!
_Both._
So side by side we merrily ride,
And scatter the murmuring throng,
Who think the police should compel us to cease,
And mournfully ask, "How long?"
* * * * *
JUST A LITTLE TOO MUCH.--When a parliamentary candidate or popular
Member is received with a torchlight procession, it is almost
unnecessary for his constituents to present him, on a dark night, with
"an illuminated address."
* * * * *