A MAY-DAY LUNCHEON
I T was decided to issue invitations for a luncheon to do honour to a fair young bride on the first of May. The day brought its own suggestions, and it was determined to forget none of its merry traditions.
As the ceremonies of May-day were a survival of those held in honour of Flora, it was fitting that the rooms should be as lavishly decorated with flowers as possible. To this end a trusty friend in the country was commissioned to send all the twigs and branches of apple, pear, peach, and cherry that might be procured for love or lucre. Immense fagots of dry-looking sticks arrived by express, looking most unpromising. These were put in warm water, every available receptacle in the house being requisitioned and placed in the kitchen, and the water changed two or three times a day. The result was a miracle of beauty. In four days every stick had burst into bloom and was thickly covered with its own lovely flowers, like "Aaron's rod, that budded" —blossoms, blossoms everywhere—the idea should be canonised!
Our spring-time is usually coy, but it seems possible to compel her to do one's bidding. The rooms were like bowers and at a cost that was merely nominal.