A "MOVING" TALE.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 3180, 7 September 1881, Page 4

A "MOVING" TALE.

Hβ had been out to dinner, and had taken just one extra spoonful of lobster salad, and it had got into his brain and affected his legs, but he was quite sober. He said so hiniself, and he ought to know. He walked to the obelisk at the end of the road and waited for his tram. They came around him on every side, with their green lights, red lights, yellow lights, and blue lights, in flashing confusion. i£e leant up against a policeman to think.

" Conscience !" he soliloquised ; " what day o' th' month thish ?" (It was the vinegar in the salad that had twisted his tongue crooked.) " Wasliermarrer ?" Then he looked along the road and saw the signal lights, clear and brilliant, on the South Western Hail way, and he looked along another way and saw the signal lights on the Chatham and Dover (green, red, and white—white, red, and green), and they hobbed up and down, and dogged backwards and forwards; while the tramcur lights (red, green, yellow — yellow, red, green) darted to right of him, to left of him, and in front of him in flashing perplexity. " Mishter Pleeshman," said he, " will have goodnesh tell me — I'm stranger in Btrangsh land — why the dooce are all the chemists in London moving to-night?"

And the policeman answered sternly, " You'd better go home, young man."