It is true that upon my few excursions of discovery on a halfpenny tram I have failed to hit the precise spot.

But it must be there; some poet called it by its name.

There is at least warrant enough for the solemn purple plumes (following the botanical formation of lavender) which I have required people to wear in the neighbourhood of Clapham Junction.

It is so everywhere, after all.

I have never been actually to Southfields, but I suppose a scheme of lemons and olives represent their austral instincts.