And next we heard a rush of steam, but nothing could we see,
But a whistle and a puff among the fir-trees on our lee.
We watched the passing vapour till it vanished round the steep,
Then back again t’wards home with all our luggage did we creep;
But never from that moment, having once been ‘sold,’ again
We patronised the omnibus that always missed the train.
From A Pottle of Strawberries, by Albert Smith.
The Alderman.
(By a Parishioner of St. Stephen’s, Walbrook.)