In the following year he appeals to other Commons--Wandsworth, Barnes and Streatham--to follow the lead of Wimbledon, and when in 1866 Victoria Park was threatened with the erection of the Imperial Gas Company's works, _Punch_ wrote:-- Let Companies shape their projects to scrape Up wealth, and dividends share, But dim their eyes if ever they tries To rob a poor man of fresh air. [Sidenote: _Alexandra Palace Destroyed_] When the Alexandra Palace on Muswell Hill was opened in the summer of 1873, its gardens, statues and catering were praised in a welcome to "Alexandra" after the manner of the Laureate. Two days after this welcome appeared, the new Palace was destroyed by fire, and on July 5, 1873, _Punch_ rather cruelly published a review of a poem composed on the event by Joseph Gwyer, potato-salesman of Penge. A few of the stanzas are worth rescuing from oblivion if only for their artless simplicity:-- On Muswell Hill there lately stood, The Alexandra Palace great and good, Both to our own and foreign land, It claimed from each a prestige grand. With works of art it did abound, Which were wont the ignorant to astound, The sightly dome for miles was seen Surrounded by the pastures green. But on the 9th of June the palace caught on fire, Each moment seemed to send the flames much higher, Flinging around with consternation spell Such sad results as no mortal could foretell. The shouts of alarm at this dread afray Many were stricken and did prostrate lay, As if they'd been wounded by some deadly foe, So painful was the unexpected great blow. While some were witnessing this awful view, Others were anxious as to what they should do, Some it was seen appeared quite romantic, While the poor stall-girls seemed nearly frantic. * * * * * In two short hours it was a blaze Which took some years to build and raise Grand Alexandra's noble Dome, Alas! all vanished the Ninth of June. The Pantheon, mentioned in the previous volume, though shorn of its early glories, was still a feature of London in the 'sixties, and "Jack Easel," in January, 1862, describes a visit to the Pantheon, "once dedicated to the Tragic Muse, now a temple of all the gods," combining a bazaar, an aviary and a picture gallery, chiefly frequented by ladies--"Belindas in Balmorals." The pictures were a very mixed lot, including King Alfred and the Cakes, Actæon, and the Dead Body of King Harold. But the Pantheon in its last days was chiefly remarkable for an assemblage of wondrous knick-knacks, cheap bijouterie, antique vases, antimacassars, Buhl caskets, _bonbonnières_, china candlesticks, cheese-cakes, daguerreotypes, decanters, Gothic go-carts, German glass, rag dolls and ratafia. [Sidenote: _Tattersall's_]