SOCIAL SCIENCE.

Globe, Volume I, Issue 57, 5 August 1874, Page 3

SOCIAL SCIENCE.

To the Editor of the Globe

Sir, — Nonce teipse. So he docs, and a few things besides. There's life in the old dog yet. We aint agoing to let that affair of the publicans' licenses, and dogs ditto, slip through our fingers so easily. Not till it is seen if the publican interest musters strong among the M. PI. li.'s Only to think how those paltry country members wouldn't allow it in the Provincial Council, with their rot about'principle and all that. But they are a lot of mean cusses always, country folks are. Why, there's a place up Oxford way where the very ground is Cust for their sake.

Bat they duln't really sec into the millstone all the time. Mickey don't value the money so much, though it's a consideration no doubt ; but, Good Templars, do you twig ? If ever the grog licenses go to swell the local revenue, it will be doubly difficult to shut up a few of the superflus [pubs. That's the real game. Cupid's a mannikin ; and his abi'ities do not fail him after crossing the line. " Love's prisoners" is a familiar phrase, and by no means out of date yet. We have all heard, and some of us, not meaning the present company, may be able to know without hearsay, how in the old Vandcmonian days, when a ship load of selected beauties disgorged itself on the cinder strewn shore, the panting settlers used to " Marry them out of hand," or more correctly, out of handcuffs. But the wicked little god sometimes gets shooting his arrows from male eyes, glorified by the encircling radiance of the red shirt —

" Shining in a shirt that glowed, Celestial iosy red, love's proper hue." That's poetry, and if you can't find it in Milton's works try mine. Many's the man in chokee that would elope with the jailer's wife, or without her for that matter, if occasion served, and the song of the old fashioned waits, " Oh, lady help your prisoneer," may thrill feminine hearts benignant, in its most literal sense. Women are partial to red coats ; the plain L.G. read in the light of affection, is but the initials of love's glamour; and those broad arrows, ah ! Cupid's feathered shafts are they. Frown not, thou stern old parient, but listen to me. Although lam now married a good deal and settled some, I am as thou seest neither so old or grim as thou ; not so old as to have yet forgotten the skill to read the truth,and purity that cauuot be veiled in that young fair face ; truth and purity, that would shrink dove-like from any contaminating touch ; truth and purity that with gentle heroism will fear not to recognise a noble heart, though fallen ; heaven's pure magnet, old parient, to draw the clear true steel for ever upward from the dirt where it had plunged itself ; no spacious romantic Claude Duval is he, offensively vainglorious to have,, fifty female nooses looping at his heart, while the hangman accomplishes his neck with one ; but a faithful Sir Lancelot, hoping by woman's unwavciing help to redeem the tarnished brightness of his escutcheon. Grim parient? it's all right; surely iukshed is less heinous than bloodshed ; and in the bloody tournaments of old, a Free Lance was ever deemed object fit for Lady's Love to re.it on. Young folks, marry up ! I have had a good deal of trouble lately through a pushing tradesman in Oxfordstreet, Lyttelton, who has painted on his workshop, i: Leave message next door." Never having any to leave, I was unable to comply with the modest request. Every time I passed I felt guilty of a neglect, and my high strung sensibilities were tortured in vain.

'Tother day I had a happy thought. 1 went next door and said, "Missis, just ask Tom if there's anything else 1 can do to oblige him." The fact is. as I don't want a coffin, I shall leave my message next; door in preference. The cigars are jolly good next door. Caustic.