Quite an urban paradise.
So, sweetest, most sensitive-nostril'd of girls,
Come hither!—the stenches are gone.
Foul dust blows no more in malodorous whirls,
No cabbage-leaves rot in the sun,
Damp-reek from choked gutter won't straighten your curls,
So come—'twill be really good fun!
Punch, December 16, 1882.
Punch has long been calling attention to the disgraceful condition of Covent Garden Market, but hitherto without the slightest success. The Duke of Bedford appears to totally ignore the fact that property has its duties, as well as its privileges; and it seems probable that even the simplest remedies and improvements on his estate will be neglected, until public attention is drawn to the foul market and its adjacent slums, by the outbreak of some epidemic.
There was another parody of "Come into the Garden, Maud," in Punch, May 23, 1868.