FLOWERS' NAMES.
London Pride.
There was a haughty maiden
Who lived in London Town,
With gems her shoes were laden,
With gold her silken gown.
"In all the jewelled Indies,
In all the scented East,
Where the hot and spicy wind is,
No lady of the best
Can vie with me," said None-so-pretty
As down she walked through London City.
"Our walls stand grey and stately;
Our city gates stand high;
Our lords spend wide and greatly;
Our dames go sweeping by;
Our heavy-laden barges
Float down the quiet flood
Where on the pleasant marges
Gay flowers bloom and bud.
Oh, there's no place like London City,
And I'm its crown," said None-so-pretty.
The fairies heard her boasting,
And that they cannot bear;
So off they went a-posting
For charms to bind her there.
They wove their spells around her,
The maiden pink and white;
With magic fast they bound her,
And flowers sprang to sight
All white and pink, called None-so-pretty,
The Pride of dusty London City.
"A City pigeon swooped down suddenly out of nowhere and all but took the cap off a bricklayer at the rate of forty miles an hour."—Daily Paper.
It will be observed that the speed was that of the bird and not the bricklayer.
"At —— Church, on Monday last, a very interesting wedding was solemnised, the contracting parties being Mr. Richard ——, eldest son of Mr. and Mrs. ——, and a bouquet of pink carnations."—Welsh Paper.
There has been nothing like this since Gilbert wrote of—
"An attachment à la Plato
For a bashful young potato."
"Wot yer mean photographin' my wife? I saw yer."
"You're quite mistaken; I—I wouldn't do such a thing."
"Wot yer mean—wouldn't? she's the best-lookin' woman on the beach."