[Sidenote: WEATHER.
while forced
his dwindling
victims
to confess,
[Illustration: _A Carriage Sweep._]
"small by
degrees, and
beautifully
less."]
A BENEFIT.
"_Sich a Gettin up Stairs._"
Sweet Gallery squeeze, you will possess
The utmost freedom of the press;
Crowds, looking up, still pushing go,
With _stares_ above, and _stairs_ below;
The soldier first, a foremost man,
Like Bow-street culprits—_keeps the van_,
Charges the door, whose keepers stern
A "bob" will charge _him_ in return;
He's _got his step_, so with light mind
Bears all the pressure from behind;
Feels from the rear-mob, all alive,
A drive, though not a _carriage drive_:
And, lo! among them, soot-grimed deep,
A sweep, though not a _carriage sweep_.
Baker and butcher, lass and lover;
With one fat Falstaff falling over,
Sure—though he _like it_ not—to go
And _lump it_ when he gets below;
A prize John Bull, who, bulky dunce,
Takes both alternatives at once,
And quickly reaches _his first floor_,
_Dismounted_ at the Gallery Door!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]