"An' w'en you gets yer seven days, you come along an' see
The roses an' the lavender, the lavender, the lavender ...
You oughter see the lavender!" says 'e.

My mate 'e 'ad a sister, w'ich I didn't even guess
Till I was at the wicker-gate an' see 'er cotton dress;
'Er face was sweet as summer-time an' pretty as a tune;
'Er eyes was like the lavender, the blue bewitchin' lavender,
As lovely as the lavender in June.

She bid me welcome kindly, an' as quiet as you please,
An' fust we talk o' battlefields an' then we talk o' bees;
But, though the 'olly'ocks was aht an' all the roses red,
I only see the lavender, the patch o' purple lavender;
"I'm pleased you likes the lavender," she said.

I'm tickled by a pansy, wot's called an 'Appy Thought;
I'm gone on yaller "Glories" of the proper smelly sort;
An' once I 'eld gerani-ums was gayer than the rest,
But now I likes the lavender, a little sprig o' lavender,
I likes a bit o' lavender the best.

* * * * *

AN INFANT PRODIGY.

"Sir Frederick Smith, the Attorney-General, is 5, but does not
look it for he keeps a full thatch and a fresh complexion, and
has features so softly contoured that as a baby he must have
been the pride of the family."--_Yorkshire Evening Post_.