And though these bankers care for gold, it never can be said
Matter-o’-Money it will be if ever they are wed.
Fun, 1879.
——:o:——
Shakespeare at Paddington.
I know a bank whereon foul road-slush flows,
Where passing one hath need to hold one’s nose;
Where the familiar slop-carts do combine
To store malodorous muck in fetid line.
There drowses heavy Bumble day and night,