Volume 156 — THE LAST-STRAW.
Reading edition
I don't agree with grousing, and I trust I shall escape any Desire to pick a quarrel with an egg at fivepence ha'penny; I'm quite prepared to recognise that no persuasive charm'll aid In getting from a grocer either cheese or jam or marmalade; I brave the brackish bacon and refrain from ever uttering Complaints about the margarine that on my bread I'm buttering; I'm not unduly bored with CHARLIE CHAPLIN on the cinema And view serenely miners agitating for their minima; I sit with resignation in a study stark and shivery, Desiderating coal with little hope of its delivery; I realise that getting into tram or tube's improbable And pardon profiteers for robbing ev'ryone that's robable; I don't mind cleaning doorsteps in the view of all ignoble eyes (Now Mary, my domestic, has decided to demobilise); Though life is like a poker that you've handled at the vivid end And all my wretched companies have ceased to pay a dividend— All these and other worries, though they're very near the limit, I Maintain that I can face with philosophic equanimity; But, when I by my family and fond and fussy friends am asked To trot about in public with my features influenza-masked, My sense of humour wrings from me (or possibly a lack of it) The protest of the camel at the straw that breaks the back of it.
Reconstruction in London.
Extract from a recent novel:—
"She sat at her desk and, without any palpable hesitation, wrote to Stanley asking him to meet her within an hour by the bridge over the Serpentine in St. James's Park."
THE MAKING OF HISTORY.
Infatuated Little Boy. "I WISH YOU CAME TO OUR CHURCH. WHY DON'T YOU?"
Little Girl. "MOTHER SAYS IT'S TOO HIGH."
I.L.B. "IS THAT ALL? WELL, I'LL SPEAK TO DADDY, AND I'M SURE HE'LL FIX THAT UP ALL RIGHT."