Or hie me through the dusk to sit beside the shimmering Serpentine,
And, with a little make-believe, imagine I am up the Rhine.
Alas! the poor device, I know, my restlessness will ne'er assuage:
Still Fanny beats, with pinions clipped, the wires of its Cockney cage!
No inch of turf to prisoned larks can represent the boundless moor;
And neither Hyde nor Regent's Park suggests a Continental Tour!
VOCES POPULI.
IN AN OMNIBUS.
The majority of the inside passengers, as usual, sit in solemn silence, and gaze past their opposite neighbours into vacancy. A couple of Matrons converse in wheezy whispers.