"The destroyers patrolling the Irish coast are being boarded and searched for rifles by order of the Admiralty."—Daily Express.
Little Maid (to new owner of country cottage) "Oh, if you please, Sir, here's the Chairman of the Little Chippingham and West Hambleton Street Lighting Committee." (Confidentially) "It's really only Mr. Binks, the butcher."
THE CALL OF THE BLOOD.
Happy the man who brushes up his topper
And sallies forth to call upon a maid,
Knowing his converse and his coat are proper,
That, come what may, he will not be afraid,
Not lose his nerve, and yawn, or tell a whopper,
Or drop the marmalade.
Not such the bard; not thus—but Clotho (drat her)
Was wakeful still, and plied a hostile loom—
I sought Miss Pritt. She mooted some grave matter
And looked for light; my lips were like the tomb,
Sealed, though they say they heard my molars chatter
Up in the smoking-room.
Cold eyes regarded me. My front-stud fretted;
A stiff slow smirk belied my deep unrest;
My tea-cup trembled and my cake was wetted;
My beauteous tie worked round toward the West;
My brow—forgive me, but it really sweated;
I did not look my best.
To Zeus, that oft would make a mist and smother
Some swain beset, and screen him from the crowd,
I prayed for vapours; but his mind was other:
Yet was I answered, though the god was proud,
For, anyhow, I trod on Miss Pritt's mother
And left beneath a cloud.
Not to return. O'er fair free hills and valleys
I can converse and carry on ad lib.;
On active tennis-courts (between the rallies)
I can be confident, and none more glib;
But not in drawing-rooms my bright star dallies—
I'm not that sort of nib.
We'll meet no more; but I shall send some token
Of what I'm worth outside the world of teas—
A handsome photograph, some smart things spoken,
A few sweet verses (not so bad as these),
And hockey-groups that show me stern and oaken
And nude about the knees.
It may be, though she deemed me dunder-headed,
She'll sometimes take them from her chamber-wall,
Or where they lie in lavender embedded,
And tell her family about them all—
About the gentleman she might have wedded,
Only he could not call.
"John William Burrow, of Overton, who is about 16 years old, caught six salmon in the heave net last week, their respective weights being 9 lbs., 28 lbs., 5½ lbs., 12 lbs., 22 lbs., 13 lbs., a total of 89½ lbs. Last season, when between 13 and 14 years old, he caught three salmon. His record is probably unique for inshore fisher boys."—Lancaster Guardian.