["Birds in London are already growing alive to the approach of
Spring."--_The Times._]
A portly, fancy-vested thrush,
That carolled, on a wintry spray,
A crazy song of Spring-time--Hush!
No, not the one
By MENDELSSOHN
Victorian Britons used to play,
But just the sort of casual thing
An absent-minded bird might sing.
Observing whom--"Alas," I said,
"Good friend, how premature your theme!
By some phenomenon misled,
You've overshot
The date a lot;
Things are so seldom what they seem!"
"Then hear the simple truth," quoth he,
"For that's another rarity.
"There is a foreign, furious man,
That sends great engines through the air
To deal destruction where they can,
To rain their fires
On ancient spires,
Ousting the birds that settle there,
And agitates, of fixed intent,
Our pleasaunce in the firmament.
"And everybody says the Spring
Will see him pay the price of it,
So that is why I choose to sing
What isn't true--
But as for you,
Be off and do your little bit!
It's not for you to stand and quiz--
The season's _what I say it is!_"
* * * * *
"A Chicago Reuter message says that Hugh Henderson has won the
American draughts championship by defeating Alfred Jordan, the London
champion.
Draught horses were in most demand at Aldridge's, St. Martin's-lane,
yesterday, and the sums obtained ranged from 30gs. to 49gs."
_Daily Telegraph_.
The forty-nine guinea one has challenged HUGH HENDERSON.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _East Coast Farmer._ "HAVE I REALLY TO DO THIS WI'
ALL MY BEASTS, IF SO BE AS THE GERMANS LAND IN THESE PARTS?"
_Officer._ "YES. LIVE STOCK OF EVERY DESCRIPTION HAS TO BE BRANDED
AND DRIVEN WEST."
_Farmer._ "I CAN SEE MY WAY ALL RIGHT EXCEPT FOR MY BEES. WHAT AM I
TO DO WI' MY BEES?"]
* * * * *