Upon a lily-laden tide,
Where galleons rocked with sails blown wide
And white swans gleamed, there was a city
Whose citizens called "London Pride"
The flower that some call "None-so-Pretty."
It grew beside the frowning tower,
By RALEGH'S walk and BOLEYN'S bower,
As frail as joy, as sweet as pity;
And "London Pride" they called that flower
Which country folk call "None-so-Pretty."
When London lads made holiday
In dewy hours o' th' month o' May,
And footed it with Moll and Kitty,
Among the maypole garlands gay
Be sure they plaited "None-so-Pretty."
When London lads in battle bent
Their bows beside the bows of Kent
('Tis told in many a gallant ditty)
Their caps were tufted as they went
With "London Pride" or "None-so-Pretty."
Oh, London is what London was,
And mighty food for pride she has;
Her saints are wise, her sinners witty,
And Picard clay and Flemish grass
Are sweet with stars of "None-so-Pretty."
* * * * *
"SAMMIES."
_À propos_ of the note in our issue of August 1st, a Correspondent
suggests that the Americans might go into action to the tune of "Tommy
make room for your Uncle."
* * * * *
"A Leghorn pullet, belonging to Mrs. G.R. Bell, of Coxhoe,
Durham, has laid an egg 3-1/4 oz. in weight, 7-1/2 in. in
diameter, and 6-1/4 in. in circumference."--_Scotch Paper._
Most interesting and novel, but very disconcerting to the
mathematicians.
* * * * *
"The procession was headed by the choristers and songmen, and
included the surplus clergy and the Very Rev. the Dean."
_Yorkshire Herald._
No support here, you will note, for the recent suggestion that Deans are
superfluous.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE FAILURE OF THE FILM-THRILL.