The Spelling Bee was a solace of the suburbs, which were steadily rising into prominence, owing to increased facilities of communication with the centre of London, and the "Suburban Love Song" which _Punch_ printed in May, 1889, marks the emergence of a class of society hitherto neglected in his pages--a class quite well-educated and not vulgar, but essentially bourgeois and sentimental:-- The blacks float down with a lazy grace, Hey, how the twirtle-birds twitter! And softly settle on hands and face; And the shards in the rockery glitter. The boughs are black and the buds are green-- Hey, how the twitter-birds twirtle! And Cicely over the trellis-screen Is bleaching her summer kirtle. The mustard and cress (can they grow apart-- Those twin-souls, cress and mustard?) Are springing apace: they have made such a start That the pattern is rather fluster'd: For I made a device in the moist dark mould, In the shape of A's and S's, In capital letters, firm and bold, I sow'd my mustard and cresses. Here comes no nymph where the blue waves lisp On the white sands' gleaming level, Where the sharp light strikes on the laurel crisp, And flowers in the cool shade revel. But the garden shrubs are as fair to me As pine and arbutus and myrtle That grow by the shores of the Grecian sea, Where deathless nightingales twirtle. And the little house, with its suites complete, And the manifold anti-macassar, And the chalet cage, whence he greets the street-- _Meae puellae passer_-- Are fairer than aught that the sun is above In the world as much as I've seen of it; For the little house is the realm of love, And my sweet little girl is the queen of it. [Sidenote: _Foreign Travel Popularized_] [Illustration: THE TIME-HONOURED BRITISH THREAT INDIGNANT ANGLO-SAXON (_to Provincial French Innkeeper, who is bowing his thanks for the final settlement of his exorbitant and much-disputed account_): "Oh, oui, Mossoo! pour le matière de _ça_, je _paye_! Mais juste vous regardez _ici_, mon ami! et juste-vous-marquez-mes-_mots_! Je _paye--mais je mette le dans la_ 'Times'!"] For another view of the suburbs one may turn to the drab and depressing realism of George Gissing's novels. _Punch_ himself did not always look at them through rose-coloured spectacles, and a year later, under the heading "Green Pastures or Piccadilly?" (adapted from a book by William Black), emphasizes the drawbacks of a bad train service, exorbitant tradesmen, imperfect drainage, and the desolation of a region in which, from 9 A.M. to 6 P.M., "not a single male human being is visible, all of them being in town." [Illustration: ABOLITION OF SECOND-CLASS CARRIAGES "Are there any second-class carriages on this line, Rogers?" "No, my lord." "Ah! Then take two first-class tickets and two third."