An anonymous correspondent, dating from a temporary address at Limehouse, has written, "Why don't you come over on our side? You and I together could do great things."
[Illustration: According to a scheme suggested by the Royal Statistical Society everyone should be given a number and an index card at his birth. This would help the police to trace missing persons, prevent fraudulent marriages, etc. it would brighten the scheme if everybody was compelled to wear his number in a conspicuous position, and if a descriptive catalogue was issued.]
Get your summer smocks on, _ye_ little elves and fairies! Put your winter ones away in burrows underground-- Thick leaves and thistledown, Rabbit's-fur and missel-down, Woven in your magic way which no one ever varies, Worn in earthy hidey-holes till Spring comes round!
Got your summer smocks on! Be clad no more in russet! All the flow'rs are fashion-plates and fabrics for your wear-- Gold and silver gossamer, Webs, from every blossomer, Fragrant and so delicate (with neither seam nor gusset), Filmily you spin them, but they will not tear!
Get your summer smocks on, for all the woodland's waking, All the glades with green and glow salute you with a shout, All the earth is chorussing (Hear the Lady Flora sing!-- Her that strews the hyacinths and sets you merry-making), Oak and ash do call you and the blackthorn's out!
Get your summer smocks on, for soon's the time of dances Soon's the time of junketings and revellers' delights-- Dances in your pleasaunces Where your dainty presence is Dangerous to mortals mid the moonlight that entrances, Dazzling to a mortal eye on hot June nights!
350th Anniversary of the birth of William Makepeace Shakespeare."--_Kostenaian._
Oliver Wendell Cromwell, the distinguished author-politician, was born much later than the poet-novelist.
"Are you taking me to the Flower Show this afternoon?" asked Celia at breakfast.
"Well, that's that. What other breakfast conversation have I? Have you been to any theatres lately?"
"Do you really want to go to the Flower Show?" I asked. "Because I don't believe I could bear it."
"It isn't that--not only that. But there'll be thousands of people there, all with gardens of their own, all pointing to things and saying, 'We've got one of those in the east bed,' or 'Wouldn't that look nice in the south orchid house?' and you and I will be quite, quite out of it." I sighed, and helped myself from the west toast-rack.