Science 'tis that bids me pause; 'Tis by her the tale is told That, by Nature's mystic laws, Blossoms are a frequent cause Of a lady catching cold; Their aroma, so she says, Irritates the passages.
Whether this is quite exact May be food for questioning; But, as it's a painful fact That your membrane is attacked Thus about the prime of Spring, I, who hold your welfare dear, May not leave it with a sneer.
Wherefore, much though I aspire You, and you alone, to please, I refrain from this desire, For 'twould set my heart on fire If I made my lady wheeze; I should well-nigh perish if Aught from me should rouse a sniff.
"In connection with the daily service at St. Enoch's Parish Church, it would be possible to have marriage celebrated at two o'clock on any particular week-day. That meant that in ordinary circumstances it would be possible to have marriage celebrated in St. Enoch's Church at two o'clock on any week day."--_Glasgow Evening Times._
Left to ourselves, we were just arriving at the same conclusion.
"Captain W. M. Turner joined Freeman, and played the best cricket of the day. He bit hard on the off-side."--_Daily Telegraph._
We always move to the leg side of the field when Captain Turner comes in.
[Illustration: _Mr. Brown._ "Yes, this civil war business in Ireland is terrible--terrible--but, good heavens, Maria, why isn't there any onion sauce?"]
[Illustration: _Distracted Mother (at the top of her voice, outside sick son's room)._ "He won't die! Tell me he won't die!"
_Author of Play._ "No, he won't die, because this is a 'happy ending' play, but the noise that goes on outside his room would kill him in ordinary life."
_Betty Dunbar_ Miss Eva Moore. _Sir Egbert Englefield_ Mr. H. V. Esmond.]
When there is a good deal of talk on the stage about a certain character, who however remains "off" throughout the play and gives you no chance to discover for yourself what he is like, then I have an instinctive distrust of him. If his name is as bad as _Cecil_ he is practically doomed. _Betty Dunbar_, widow, ran away from her rich sister's house and spent a night in London with such a _Cecil_. _Betty_ had arrived at the dangerous age of forty, and was temporarily and ridiculously in love with this young bounder (as I felt him to be) of twenty-two. But the fact that, at the very time when she was thus making a fool of herself in London, her younger son, _Jack_, was falling off a tree and nearly killing himself in the country brought her to her senses. When she returned to the country to find _Jack_ at death's door, her love for _Cecil_ died and she could only think of him with hatred.