["It is even hinted that the London County Council may fill the lakes and ponds of the Metropolitan Parks with sea water."—Daily Paper.]
Monday.—Curious what a lot of human beings have come to the water's edge to-day. What's going to happen? St. James's Park crammed with them. We don't mind, of course. The more loafers, the more bits of loaf and biscuit for us. Immense amount of quacking going on, too, up at Spring Gardens. What can it all mean?
Tuesday.—Headache. My liver must have gone wrong, I fancy, as a result of yesterday's unusual supply of eatables. What stale biscuits some people do chuck into the water! Those hard crusts, too, don't agree with me. Same crowd as yesterday. They seem to be waiting for something. Ask a goose what's going on. Goose says, "Dinner," and gobbles up a biscuit. Stupid creature!
Wednesday.—Appetite all right again—but must be careful. Fortunately can pick and choose now. Won't look at a crust. Inclined to insist on fancy bread. Friendly wild-fowl says just the same crowd waiting round Serpentine, which has been emptied. Will they empty us?
Thursday.—They will! No doubt about it. Level steadily sinking. Crowd as usual. None of us will touch anything under a bath bun. What a slimy place we do seem to live in, now it's being uncovered! Where's the inspector of nuisances, I wonder?
Friday.—Water off! What'll be the next move? Offered a Huntley and Palmer with no sugar on it! Scandalous!
Saturday.—More quacking at Spring Gardens. Then a sort of procession down to the banks by members of the L. C. C. Ask goose what a member of the L. C. C. means. Goose says "Quack!" Idiotic bird. Water really coming in now. Hurrah! Sure to be fresh, anyhow. Have my first dive. How my eyes smart! What funny water it is! Taste some. Why,—it's salt! Just wondering what this means, when a man comes along, claps me into a hamper with all my relations, and takes me off to Leadenhall Market—so he calls it. Told that the L. C. C. has filled all the park ponds with sea-water! No more use for us—going to have a lot of sea-gulls instead. What treachery! (Later.) Sold.
SOUNDING THE ANTITOXIN!
(See Dr. Robson Roose's excellent article on "The Spread of Diphtheria" in the Fortnightly Review for December, 1894.)