THE FACE OF THE GLOBE

There are no good photographs of the Giddy Globe; she refuses to sit.

Imagine attempting to photograph an obese and flighty Spheroid who spends her time pirouetting round in a circle with all her might and main.

Perhaps it is to avoid the photographer that the Earth spins, and not merely to reduce her girth as we hinted elsewhere.

In these days such a strenuous evasion of publicity is suspicious.

Where does she come from?

Where is she going?

She refuses to answer, she will not even state her business or tell her real name.

For Æons (quite a number of Æons) this Giddy one has been going round under various male and female aliases such as—Cosmos, Mother Earth, The World, Mrs. Grundy, the Footstool, the Terrestrial Globe.

If you look up her record you will find the following press notices—

“The Earth’s a thief.”
Timon of Athens.

“Earth’s bitter.”
Wordsworth.

“This distracted Globe.”
Hamlet.

“This tough World.”
King Lear.

“Naughty World.”
Merchant of Venice.

“This World is given to Lying.”
Henry IV.

“The World is too much with us.”
Wordsworth.

“The World is grown so bad.”
Richard III.

“The narrow World.”
Julius CÆsar.

“The World is not thy friend.”
Romeo and Juliet.

“The World’s a bubble.”
Bacon.

“This World is all a fleeting show.”
Moore.

“The World was not worthy.”
St. Paul.

“The World’s a tragedy.”
Horace Walpole.

“This bleak World.”
Moore.

“The weary weight of all this unintelligible World.”
Wordsworth.

“A World of vile ill-favoured faults.”
Merry Wives of Windsor.

“Stale, flat and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this World.”
Hamlet.

“This dim spot that men call Earth.”
Milton.

“The wicked World.”
W. S. Gilbert.

It is possible that the Giddy Globe has read the above clippings and, realizing that she has been discovered, spins round with all her might to avoid being photographed for the Rogues’ Gallery of the Universe.

Appearances are certainly against her.

When I am moved to contemplate
The rude and unregenerate state
Of that rampageous reprobate
The World at large,
And as I mark its stony phiz
And see it whoop and whirl and whiz,
I can but cry—O Lord, why is
The World at large?