AT THE DOOR; OR, PATERFAMILIAS AND THE YOUNG SPARK.
(An Electrical Eclogue.)
["The cost is still heavy, no doubt, and the electric light still stands in the category of luxuries which are almost beyond the reach of average middle-class incomes."—The "Times" on the growth of Electric Lighting in London.]
Electric Sprite.
Old boy, let me in! Come, now, don't you be stupid!
Why stand at your door in that dubious way?
Like the classical girl who was called on by Cupid,
You seem half alarmed at the thought of my stay.
With meanings of mischief my mind is not laden;
Be sure, my dear friend, that I shall not sell you,
As the artful young archer-god did the poor maiden,
Who let him in only his visit to rue.
I hope you've not listened to enemies' strictures,
They've warned you, perhaps, against letting me pass,
I shan't soil your ceiling, I shan't spoil your pictures,
Or make nasty smells like that dirty imp, Gas!
You're prejudiced clearly, and that is a pity,
Why, bless you, I'm spreading all over the place!
My spark is pervading the whole of the City;
The dingy old Gas-flame must soon hide its face.
I'm brilliant, and clean, and delightfully larky;
Just look at my glow and examine my arc!
Fwizz! How's that for high, and for vivid and sparky!
I obviate dirt, and I dissipate dark.
You just let me in; the result you'll be charmed at.
Objections, Old Boy, are all fiddle-de-dee.
Come now! I'm sure you cannot be alarmed at
A dear little chap like me!
Paterfamilias.
A dear little chap! Very true; but I'm thinking
That you're just a little too "dear" for me—yet!
Ah, yes! it's no use to stand smiling and winking;
I like the bright ways of you, youngster,—you bet!
You're white as the moon, and as spry as a rocket;
No doubt all you say in self-praise is quite true,
But you see, boy, I must keep an eye to my pocket!
The Renters and Raters so put on the screw,
That a "middle-class income" won't stand much more squeezing,
And Forty or Fifty Pounds more in the year.
For your bright companionship, albeit pleasing,
Would come pretty stiff, my boy. That is my fear.
Just cheapen yourself, in supply and in fitting,
To something that fits with my limited "screw,"
And you will not find me shrink long from admitting
A dear little chap like you!