I asked the Queen of Flowers
Why the blush-rose blushed so red,
Through the sun-rays and the showers,
And so bowed its modest head.
And fair Flora whispered "Hush!
It would hurt the rose to hear!--
The beginning of that blush
Was not love, or shame, or fear.
All the pretty faëry fancies
That you find in poet's song,
And encounter in romances,
Are entirely false and wrong.
That flush so fair and fleeting
Means not passion, pride or pity;
But hot memories of the meeting
Of a Vigilance Committee!"
* * * * *
Mrs. CHANT-I-CLEAR THE MUSIC HALLS.--So the verdict of the L.C.C. was
against the Empire. This, of course, does not prove that the Members of
the Council are amenable to _Chantage_. On this occasion Mrs. CHANT made
them sing to her tune. But the tune will not be popular.
* * * * *
A CRUEL POET.--Father Time is the offender when he begins to write lines
on your face.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "ADVICE GRATIS."
_Betsy Trotwood (Mrs. London City) to Mr. Dick (Mr. H-w-s)._ "NOW HERE
YOU SEE SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN'S CHILD, AND THE QUESTION I PUT TO YOU IS,
_WHAT SHALL I DO WITH HIM?_ COME, I WANT SOME VERY SOUND ADVICE."
THE CONTEMPLATION OF OLD ST. PAUL'S SEEMED TO INSPIRE HIM WITH A SUDDEN
IDEA, AND HE REPLIED BRISKLY, "I SHOULD WASH HIM!"
"MR. H-W-S," SAID MRS. LONDON CITY, "SETS US ALL RIGHT. WE'LL FILL THE
FIRE-ENGINE WITH SOAP-AND-WATER!"--_"David Copperfield," adapted._]
* * * * *