URBS IN RURE
["When every one has a bicycle and flies to the suburban roads, the suburban dwellers will desert their houses and come back to crowded London to find quiet and freedom from dust."—Daily Paper.]
Time was desire for peace would still
My footsteps lure to Richmond Hill,
Or to the groves of Burnham I,
Much craving solitude, would fly;
Thence, through the Summer afternoon,
'Mid fragrant meads, knee-deep in June,
Lulled by the song of birds and bees,
I'd saunter idly at mine ease
To that still churchyard where, with Gray,
I'd dream a golden hour away,
Forgetful all of aught but this—
That peace was mine, and mine was bliss.
But now should my all-eager feet
Seek out some whilom calm retreat,
"Pip, pip!" resounds in every lane,
"Pip, pip!" the hedges ring again,
"Pip, pip!" the corn, "Pip, pip!" the rye,
"Pip, pip!" the woods and meadows cry,
As through the thirsty, fever'd day,
The red-hot scorchers scorch their way.
Peace is no longer, Rest is dead,
And sweetest Solitude hath fled;
And over all, the cycling lust
Hath spread its trail of noise and dust.
So, would I woo the joys of Quiet,
I see no more the country's riot,
But the comparatively still
Environment of Ludgate Hill.
There, 'mongst the pigeons of St. Paul's,
I muse melodious madrigals,
Or loiter where the waters sport
'Mid the cool joys of Fountain Court,
Where, undisturbed by sharp "Pip, pip!"
My nimble numbers lightly trip,
And country peace I find again
In Chancery and Fetter Lane.
Vehicular Progression.—Mr. Ikey Motor (to customer). Want a machine, sir? Certainly, we've all sorts to suit your build.
Customer. It isn't for me, but for my mother-in-law.
Mr. Ikey Motor. For your mother-in-law! How would a steam roller suit her?
[Mr. I. M. is immediately made aware that the lady in question has overheard his ill-timed jest, while the customer vanishes in blue fire.
Experto Crede.—What is worse than raining cats and dogs?—Hailing motor omnibuses.
Comprehensive.—Owner (as the car starts backing down the hill). "Pull everything you can see, and put your foot on everything else!"
Farmer (in cart). "Hi, stop! Stop, you fool! Don't you see my horse is running away?"
Driver of Motor-car (hired by the hour). "Yes, it's all very well for you to say 'stop,' but I've forgotten how the blooming thing works!"
SIMPLE ENOUGH
Yokel (in pursuit of escaped bull, to Timmins, who is "teaching himself"). "Hi, Mister! If yer catch hold of his leading-stick, he can't hurt yer!"
Anti-Bicyclist Motto.
—Rather a year of Europe than a cycle of to-day.
Motto for those who "Bike."—"And wheels rush in where horses fear to tread."
A Case of Mistaken Identity.—
Major Mustard (who has been changing several of his servants). "How dare you call yourself a chauffeur?"
Alfonsoe. "Mais non! Non, monsieur! Je ne suis pas 'chauffeur.' J'ai dit que je suis le chef. Mais monsieur comprehend not!"