"'Tain't no use tellin' me you've broke down! Stands to reason a motor-caw goin' down 'ill's bound to be goin' too fast. So we'll put it down at about thirty mile an hour! Your name and address, sir, hif you please."
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,