"How a poet of such a 'profound subtlety of instinct for the absolute expression of absolute natural beauty' as Keats could have penned the lines:—
'Beauty is Fat, Fat Beauty. That is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.'
must remain one of those unfathomable curiosities of the working of the human mind."
We hope the writer hasn't been bothering about it for long. The good news we have for him—that Keats didn't—will remove a great weight from his mind.
"The bride's going away costume was of Parma violet cloth, with waistcoat effect, in brocaded silk. She wore, also, a large blue wolf, the gift of the bridegroom."
Newcastle Evening Chronicle.
Bride. "Of course, dear, one is bound not to look a gift wolf in the mouth, but are you sure the large blue ones don't bite?"