THE STREETS OF LONDON.
The stately streets of London
Are always "up" in Spring,
To ordinary minds an ex-
traordinary thing.
Then cabs across strange ridges bound,
Or sink in holes, abused
With words resembling not, in sound,
Those Mrs. Hemans used.
The miry streets of London,
Dotted with lamps by night;
What pitfalls where the dazzled eye
Sees doubly ruddy light!
For in the season, just in May,
When many meetings meet,
The jocund vestry starts away,
And closes all the street.
The shut-up streets of London!
How willingly one jumps
From where one's cab must stop, through pools
Of mud, in dancing pumps!
When thus one skips on miry ways
One's pride is much decreased,
Like Mrs. Gilpin's, for one's "chaise"
Is "three doors off" at least.
The free, fair streets of London!
Long, long, in vestry hall,
May heads of native thickness rise,
When April showers fall;
And green for ever be the men
Who spend the rates in May,
By stopping all the traffic then
In such a jocose way!
In Bloom.—On Saturday last there was a letter in the Daily Telegraph headed "Trees for Londoners." The lessee and manager of the Haymarket Theatre thinks that for Londoners two Trees are quite sufficient, i.e. his wife and himself.