"What plea for beauty or for song, Or simple prudence, may she reck, While Fashion rules she with mixed plumes Her head must deck? XV. "The birds in myriads may die, Till earth is all a songless hush; But she upon her crest _must_ sport A feathered-brush! XVI. "'Tis not sore need bids songsters bleed, Not lack of vesture or of food; 'Tis only Fashion's foolish freak Strips wold and wood. XVII. "And that is why I wander here, Alone and sadly loitering, Whilst the sedge shakes not with glancing plume, And no birds sing!" * * * * * BOURNEMOUTH'S chief magistrate, by decision and order of the corporation of that town, has been deprived of a strip of land, alleged to be public property, which he had enclosed within his own private grounds. The sight of sixty workmen ruthlessly "removing his summer-house and shrubs, and throwing tons of mould over the cliffs," could not have been a very exhilarating one for the erstwhile owner, who must have felt like Mayor-ius 'mid the ruins of Cart-hage. * * * * * [Illustration: THE EMPTY CUPBOARD. OLD MOTHER HUBBARD SHE WENT TO THE CUPBOARD TO GET HER POOR DOG A BONE, WHEN SHE GOT THERE THE CUPBOARD WAS BARE, AND SO THE POOR DOG HAD NONE. ["Mr. CHAPLIN, speaking in the House of Commons on the 19th August, said that it was not possible to prepare and produce measures for the relief of Agriculture this Session."--_Daily Paper._]] * * * * * ROUNDABOUT READINGS. "Roundabout Ridings" would be the more correct title, for he who writes these lines has yielded to the joint influences of the prevalent craze and the glorious weather, and has been touring in North Devon on (and off) a bicycle. I say "off" advisedly, for the hills in that delightful country are so numerous, so long, and so steep, that out of every hundred miles you accomplish you will find that you have walked at least fifty while you painfully shoved your wheel before you. And when you reach the laborious summit and pause panting, you are as likely as not to gather your breath and strength under a notice informing you that the descent beyond, down which you had hoped to spin with extended legs, is dangerous to cyclists. * * * * * And thereupon, if the sun is shining in full strength, and you are spent and parched, you may possibly decide that in order to make a bicycle tour in North Devon a complete and splendid success, it is essential that you should do it without a bicycle. But later on, when you have reached the end of your journey, have had your bath, your rub down and your brush up, and are waiting placidly for your dinner with an appetite well set and a thirst calculated to drain a vat of cider, then you will realise that even in the precipitous Devonshire country bicycling is a real delight.