gled and made awful noises, and when he did get the stockings
out the things he said weren't a bit like "Rabbits," and the only thing
that he did say that I could write down here was that he thought he was
going to be sick. The rest was dreadful.

We were both sent back to bed, and that morning as a punishment we were not
allowed into the dining-room until Father and Mother had finished their
breakfast; and Angela, who often thinks quite clever things, said that we
had better not do "Rabbits" again for a good long time. But after all it
didn't matter much as the weather got a great deal colder, and I wore my
jumper a lot, and so did Angela.

* * * * *

[Illustration: "LOOK 'ERE--THIS ARF-CROWN WON'T DO. IT AIN'T GOT NO MILLING
ON ITS HEDGE."

"BLIMY! NOR IT 'AS! I _KNEW_ I'D FORGOTTEN SOMEFINK."]

* * * * *

FLOWERS' NAMES.

DAME'S DELIGHT.

There was a Lady walked a wood;
She never smiled, nor never could.
One day a sunbeam from the South
Kissed full her petulant proud mouth;
She laughed, and there, beneath the trees,
Fluttering in the April breeze,
Spread tracts of blossom, green and white,
Curtseying to the golden light--
The broken laugh of Dame's Delight.

* * * * *

FIRST LOVE AND LAST.

[It is pointed out by a contemporary that the dressmaker's waxen model
has quite lost her old insipid air. The latest examples of the
modeller's art show the "glad eye" and features with which "any man
might fall in love."]

In the days when I started to toddle
I loved with a frenzy sublime
A dressmaker's beauteous model--
I think I was three at the time;
She was fair in the foolish old fashion,
And they found me again and again
With my nose in an access of passion
Glued tight to the pane.

But I thought they were gone past returning
Till Time should go back on his tracks,
Those days of a child's undiscerning
But fervent devotion to wax;
Could a heart, though admittedly restive,
Recapture that innocent mood
At sixty next birthday? I'm blest if
I thought that it could.

But Art, ever bent on progression,
Has taken the model in hand,
And brought in the line of succession
A figure more pleasingly planned;
Her eyes with the gladdest of glances,
Her lips and her hair and her cheek
Can punctur