Volume 150 — THE LATEST SOLAR MYTH.

Though the daylight-saving measure, which ingenious Willett planned To illume the work and leisure of the toilers of the land, Has not yet convinced the nation, or unto the mass appealed, Still without exaggeration it can claim to hold the field. But of late a man of science—Mr. Willis is his name— In a mood of flat defiance bans the daylight-saving game; And, relentlessly pooh-poohing the delights of sunny days, Recommends the prompt tabooing of the cult of solar rays. All the hardy Northern races are efficient, in his view, Just because they live in places where the sunlit hours are few, And, conversely, peoples broiling in the horrid torrid zones Have no grit or zest for toiling and no marrow in their bones. There was once a commentator, if I rightly recollect, Who, discussing the Equator, treated it with disrespect; But his temperate impeachment, though it showed a mental twist, Pales before the drastic preachment of the Norwich scientist. Metaphorically speaking, it's a symptom of the Hun To be always bent on seeking after places in the sun; But I'd rather choose to follow what my deadliest foes applaud Than to ostracise Apollo as an enervating fraud. No, you don't convince me, Willis, with your scientific chat, And my slangy daughter, Phyllis, says you're talking through your hat; For, while many drug-concoctors merit death by sus. per coll., I believe the best of doctors is our old friend Doctor Sol. Hours recorded on the dial, "hours serene," assuage more ills Than the lancet or the phial or a wilderness of pills; And if cranks of anti-solar leanings long for gloom, they should Emigrate to circumpolar regions and remain for good.