We all did a guy like greased lightning; you _can_ when you're
once on your wheel--
Stout bobbies carn't run down a "Safety," and gurls can do nothink
but squeal.
That's where Wheelin' gives yer the pull! Still it's beastly to
think a fine sport
And a smart lot of hathleets like hus must be kiboshed by mugs of
that sort.
All boko! dear boy, those _Times_ letters! I mean the new barney
to carry,
As long as the Slops and the Beaks keep their meddlesome mawleys orf
'ARRY.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE.
Lady Clara Robinson (nee Vere de Vere). "THANKS! HOW IS IT OMNIBUS
MEN ARE SO MUCH CIVILLER THAN I'M TOLD THEY USED TO BE?"
Conductor. "YOU SEE, LADY, THERE'S SO MANY DECAYED ARISTOCRACY
TRAVELS BY US NOWADAYS, THAT WE PICKS UP THEIR MANNERS!"]
* * * * *
SONNET ON THE SOUTH-EASTERN.
(AFTER A CELEBRATED MODEL.)
COMPOSED AT LONDON BRIDGE TERMINUS, APRIL 18, 1892.
["One can do nothing with Railways. You cannot write
sonnets on the South-Eastern."--Mr. Barry Pain, "In the
Smoking-Room."]
Earth has not anything to show less fair:
Patient were he of soul who could pass by
A twenty minutes' wait amidst the cry
Of churlish clowns who worn cord jackets wear,
Without one single, solitary swear.
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