WATERLOO TO WEYBRIDGE.
BY THE 6.5 P.M.
A young man—it's no matter who—
Hailed a cab and remarked "Waterloo!"
The driver, with bowed
Head, sobbed out aloud,
"Which station?" They frequently do.
A poet once said that to Esher
The only good rhyme was "magnesher;"
This was not the fact,
And he had to retract,
Which he did—he retracted with plesher.
A fancier cried: "There's one fault on
The part of the sparrows at Walton;
And that's why I fail
To put salt on their tail—
The birds have no tails to put salt on."
The dulness of riding to Weybridge
Pleasant chat (mind the accent) may abridge,
But not when it deals
With detaching of wheels,
Collisions, explosions, and Tay Bridge.
THE STOLEN PICTURES.—The Débats informed us, last week, that the thief who stole TENIERS' pictures from the Museum at Rennes has been discovered. His punishment should "fit the crime," as Mr. GILBERT's Mikado used to say, and therefore he ought to be sentenced to penal servitude for Ten years.
