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A troop of the Blues,
When the crowds increase,
Of metropolitan police,
And keep people back,
With a push or a crack,
For really, in spite
They love a sight
But the plunging of their Rosinantes
“ The Queen, the Queen,"
The dirty scamp
Who sits in the lamp,
Oh! who, but a Queen, could find enough smiles,
The signal is given — they fire the guns ;
In every direction, now every one runs ; Not that they know exactly why,
But they think they ought to make a move,
And give the people near them a shove, When “ the Queen, the Queen,” becomes the cry; Policemen their staves begin to brandish, The steeds of the Blues cut capers outlandish, Shewing at once their airs and graces, Switching their tails in every one's faces ;
Corpulent people, who take up room, Get a poke, that they think extremely rude, Because, beyond the line, to protrude,
Their unfortunate stomachs presume.
The speech from the Throne
Is delivered and done;
And now, at length, his plans to disclose
So he rises at last, slap dash, to propose
An impost is laid,
Which must be paid ;
About what they made,
By their business or trade, Make the least of it now, instead of the most !
Now the procession comes,
Bang go the drums;
With dreadful grimace,
Many become amazingly thrifty,
That assessors may n't think 'em
Possessed of an income,
Over a hundred and fifty, There's something that Englishmen do n 't much like, In being obliged a balance to strike,
And shake his head
When anything's said, About the profits last year made, By Mr. So-and-so, in his trade?
Should creditors want to know,
If debtors are on the go,
And when they have found him,
They 'll pump and sound him ;
To judge they'll try,
They detected a wink,
The only way
Is to lay down a rule,
From the excellent school
But if the assessors said not a word,
Much that they might have said would be heard ; And“ might say," or
did say,” becomes the same, When repeated by a
Of profit and loss, in order to shew
What they are taking,
For instance, report went about declaring,
And others, Had made a return, that they didn 't clear One hundred and fifty pounds a year ! Which startled the public, accustomed to think 'em Possessed of a rather respectable income.
PLEADING THE GENERAL ISSUE.
But, alas ! it is vain,
They 'll force us to pay.
When even the Queen,
So willing has been,
'Tis thought a very prudent plan,
To live within
come, if you can.
Some curious cases will be displayed,
Of ingenious persons — not worth a pin, (Though the style of their outlay would lead one to doubt it)
Who, instead of keeping their income within,
And ah! there is very much reason to fear,
The assessor will say,
Something more you must pay.
To reason it stands,
And whenever your wife's confined,
To a larger Income-tax be resigned.
SHAKSPERIAN FANCIES.-BY ALFRED CROWQUILL.
What, for a counter, would I do, but good ?
As YOU LIKE IT, Act II., Scene 7.
When nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by fortune fall into the fire ? As you LIKE IT, Act I., Scene 2.
OBSERVATIONS IN THE STREET.
E invariably encounter in our peregrinations certain people, who have
some peculiar feature or other as infallibly distinguishing them from their fellow bipeds, as the marks assigned by Nature to point out the dif
ferences existing amongst quadrupedal tribes. The Fop walks on his toes with stilted affectation, smiles and simpers, and his pace never exceeds an idle saunter. He adjusts alternately the cock of his hat and the set of his curls, and arranges his stock and pulls down his waistcoat about five times in twice as many minutes. He fails not to admire himself in every mirror he encounters,—mirrors possessing the same attraction for his personal points as the loadstone has for the needle to which he is indebted for them.
The Lounger differs from the Fop, inasmuch as he is constantly occupied with everything but himself; he has generally a limited income; and his world is confined to the neighbourhood of the parks, the clubs, and the theatres. His time is passed in alternately lounging to and from one or the other, and his “pauses and rests” are coffee-rooms, cigardivans, and billiard-tables. The jeux d'esprit of "Punch," he retails as "capital things that were said at my club last night.” He always is (or pretends to have been) one of the first at every opera, ballet, play, concert, ball, exhibition, or other public place, and no doubt he will be the first to trail his cane round Trafalgar Square, and puff the cloud of his Cuba at the foot of Nelson's Pillar. He knows exactly what took place in "the House” last night, and what will transpire on the first reading of the new Bill for getting rid of light sovereigns