strawberry-growing; and my duty to my (British) Queen has brought
about _this_ triumph. Early Industry started it, and careful
horticultural Economy brought it to its present pitch of perfection.
Look at it! Size, shape, sweetness, scent, all superb! If the Season
shouldn't produce another Prize-Winner, this alone ought to satisfy
SOLLY. And if G-SCH-N's seedling, "Gratis," _should_ turn out a
triumph later on, why we shall score tremendously. Wish G-SCH-N would
"sit up and snort" less, and smile more. Patience and plenty of sun!
That's the tip for a horticulturist. Standing at the door and shying
stones at your neighbour's glasshouses, won't make your own fruit
ripen, if GEORGE JOKIM could only see it. As H-RT D-KE says, _tu
quoques_ are a nuisance, and want fumigating off the face of the
earth. JOKIM and ARTHUR B-LF-R a bit too fond of 'em for _my_ fancy.
However, all the "you're anothers" on earth can't affect my Strawberry
now, thanks be! _The_ Fruit of the Season, though I say it who perhaps
shouldn't.

(_Sings._) From "Greenlands" sunny garden,
And vista'd vitreous panes,
We mean to rival Hawarden,
In glories and in gains.
I have produced, Sweet WILL-I-AM,
This Giant Strawber-ry,
In horticultural skill I am
A match for W.G.! [_Left chortling._

* * * * *

THE VERY LAST ON THE 'BUS STRIKE.--After the comparative quiet of last
week, the streets of London will now be as 'bussy as ever.