(_The latest thing in female head-wear is said to be the "Minerva"
Hat._)
Forgive me if my nerves were somewhat shaken;
Pardon me if my pulse went pit-a-pat
When I observed your tiny head had taken
To a "Minerva" hat.
Love at my heart's closed door, with loudest knockings,
Won his admittance as I gazed on you
Garbed in the gear of her, of all blue-stockings,
The most superbly blue.
For you seemed nobler far in form and feature;
In wisdom, too, I deemed you now divine,
And, though I felt myself a worthless creature,
I swore to make you mine.
I said, "I'll win this goddess. Though the siege is
Long, I shall learn her wisdom if I can,
Until in time she throws her nuptial aegis
Over her Super-man."
And then you spoke, in accents all too human,
Glanced at me coyly from beneath your casque;
My vision vanished, and I saw the woman
Behind that heavenly mask.
And straight I felt (so flippant was your mien) a
Pain as I mused on Pallas and her fowl,
And left the phantom of a faked Athena,
A disillusioned Owl.
* * * * *
Love's Labour Lost.
"The Newcastle Fire Brigade were called upon last night to deal
with an outbreak at----, where Mr. J. G---- carries on business as
a firelighter manufacturer. Before much damage had been done, the
firemen were able to extinguish the flames with chemicals."
_Newcastle Daily Journal._
Once again we see how the economic instinct clashes with the artistic
temperament.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A POINT TO POINT IN IRELAND.
_Owner of Rank Bad Horse (who has given the mount to a stranger)._
"BEGORRA, I DIDN'T KNOW HE WAS A FRIEND OF YER HONOUR'S! TELL HIM TO GET
DOWN OFF THAT HORSE! SHURE, I THOUGHT HE WAS ONLY A ---- SAXON."]
* * * * *