of levelling down,
Till into Town the Suburbs edge their way,
And in the Suburbs you may scent the Town.
With _MOUNT ST._ thus approaching _MUSWELL HILL_,
And _CLAPHAM COMMON_ marching with the _MILE_,
You get a _HAMMERSMITH_ that _fills the bill_,
A _HAMPSTEAD_ with a serious sense of style.
So this fair creature, pictured in _THE ROW_,
As one of that 'gay adulterous world,' {79} whose round
Is by the _SERPENTINE_, as well would show,
And might, I deem, as readily be found
On _STREATHAM'S HILL_, or _WIMBLEDON'S_, or where
Brixtonian kitchens lard the late-dining air.

VIII. BLUECOAT BOY

So went our boys when _EDWARD SIXTH_, the King,
Chartered _CHRIST'S HOSPITAL_, and died. And so
Full fifteen generations in a string
Of heirs to his bequest have had to go.
Thus _CAMDEN_ showed, and _BARNES_, and _STILLING-FLEET_,
And _RICHARDSON_, that bade our _LOVELACE_ be;
The little _ELIA_ thus in _NEWGATE STREET_;
Thus to his _GENEVIEVE_ young _S. T. C._
With thousands else that, wandering up and down,
Quaint, privileged, liked and reputed well,
Made the great School a part of _LONDON TOWN_
Patent as _PAUL'S_ and vital as _BOW BELL_:
The old School nearing exile, day by day,
To certain clay-lands somewhere _HORSHAM_ way.

IX. MOUNTED POLICE

Army Reserve; a worshipper of _BOBS_,
With whom he stripped the smock from _CANDAHAR_;
Neat as his mount, that neatest among cobs;
Whenever pageants pass, or meetings are,
He moves conspicuous, vigilant, severe,
With his Light Cavalry hand and seat and look,
A living type of Order, in whose sphere
Is room for neither _Hooligan_ nor _Hook_.
For in his shadow, wheresoe'er he ride,
Paces, all eye and hardihood and grip,
The dreaded _Crusher_, might in his every stride
And right materialized girt at his hip;
And they, that shake to see these twain go by,
Feel that the _Tec_, that plain-clothes Terror, is nigh.

X. NEWS-BOY

Take any station, pavement, circus, corner,
Where men their styles of print may call or choose,
And there--ten times more _on it_ than _JACK HORNER_--
There shall you find him swathed in sheets of news.
Nothing can stay the placing of his wares--
Not bus, nor cab, nor dray! The very _Slop_,
That imp of power, is powerless! Ever he dares,
And, daring, lands his public neck and crop.
Even the many-tortured London ear,
The much-enduring, loathes his _Speeshul_ yell,
His shriek of _Winnur_! But his dart and leer
An