Oh, to see Tomaties
Skidding by Frascati's!
Grand heads of Celery passing the Carlton Grill,
And fine forced Strawberries--forced up Denmark Hill!_

Hard's the fight with Nature in our uncongenial climate,
Cuddling plants and coaxing 'em, and oh, the weary time it
Takes to get a slender crop--we toil the Summer through;
England, needing quick returns, is looking now to you!

Food that comes from tropic lands, needing heat upon it,
You could grow without a thought, if you'd doff your bonnet;
Thousands of you, growing food on your daily trips,
Helping to economise the tonnage of our ships.

_Oh, to count the numbers
Of Cabbages on the march,
Jostling with Cucumbers
Just at the Marble Arch!
Oh, for Piccadilly's
Capsicums and Chilies!
Oh, for Peckham's Peaches (not the sort that's canned),
And oh, for ripe Bananas roaring down the Strand!_

* * * * *

"A reaper and binder was destroyed, also a foster mother incubator
with 43 young children."--_Chester Chronicle_.

The paragraph is headed "Fire at a Farm"--a baby-farm, we fear.