(_IN FLEET STREET._)
Oh raucous street--"_Echo_," whose vile _vox clamantis_
Is, like the Salvationist's shout, heard a mile hence,
I wish, _how_ I wish,--ah! yes, that what we want is!--
Some Cockney Narcissus could charm you to silence.
Ah, me! no such luck; in the clear autumn twilight
Your shriek on my tympanum stridently jars.
"_Echo_" murders repose, mars the daffodil sky light;
And if one thing sounds worse 'tis "the Voice of the _Stars_"!
* * * * *
[Illustration: JUST CAUGHT THE POST!]
_Sir J-m-s F-rg-ss-n loquitur_:--
Just in time to catch the Post!
Pheugh! But the Pats would have "had me on toast"
(As 'ARRY would say in his odious slang),
If I had been but a little bit later.
Out o' breath as it is. Ah, hang
This hurrying business! My mouth's like a crater,
Dreadfully dry, and doosedly hot.
Rather a downer, this is, for SCOTT's lot!
Feared Mrs. Manchester _might_ just say
(In the popular patter of my young day)
"_It is all very well_ (with a wink and a jeer),
_But you_, Master FERGUSSON, _don't lodge here!_"
All right now, though! Saved my bacon.
My defeat might the Cause have shaken.
Just in time. There! Popped it in!
Awfully glad it conveys a Win;
Although One Fifty ain't _much_ to boast,--
'Twixt you and me and the (General) Post!
* * * * *