A MYTH OF BOND STREET.
(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 ægis
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.
