'Tis evening. See with its resorting throng

     Rude Carfax teems, and waistcoats, visited

     With too-familiar elbow, swell the curse

     Vortiginous. The boating man returns,

     His rawness growing with experience—

     Strange union! and directs the optic glass

     Not unresponsive to Jemima's charms,

     Who wheels obdurate, in his mimic chaise

     Perambulant, the child. The gouty cit,

     Asthmatical, with elevated cane

     Pursues the unregarding tram, as one

     Who, having heard a hurdy-gurdy, girds

     His loins and hunts the hurdy-gurdy-man,

     Blaspheming. Now the clangorous bell proclaims

     The Times or Chronicle, and Rauca screams

     The latest horrid murder in the ear

     Of nervous dons expectant of the urn

     And mild domestic muffin.

                               To the Parks

     Drags the slow Ladies' School, consuming time

     In passing given points. Here glow the lamps,

     And tea-spoons clatter to the cosy hum

     Of scientific circles. Here resounds

     The football-field with its discordant train,

     The crowd that cheers but not discriminates,

     As ever into touch the ball returns

     And shrieks the whistle, while the game proceeds

     With fine irregularity well worth

     The paltry shilling.—

                             Draw the curtains close

     While I resume the night-cap dear to all

     Familiar with my illustrated works.