Mention has already been made of the widening of the Mall as part of the Queen Victoria Memorial. Brock's statue and monumental group were pronounced by _Punch_ in 1911 "worthy of a great Queen and a great City," an acknowledgment truly remarkable in one so chary of approval. Captain Adrian Jones's Peace "Quadriga" on Constitution Hill prompted a burlesque alternative design in 1908, with "four typical pedestrians rampant and a motor-car urgent." In 1912 an old lady is seen asking a policeman, "Is _that_ what they call the Quadruped, officer?" and the obliging Robert replies, "Yes, Mum; all except the lady." Towards "Robert," by the way, _Punch_ was in the main sympathetic and appreciative throughout this period, and in one of the "Lays of a Londoner" pays a generous tribute to the benevolent autocrat of the highway:-- In vain the dray-horse paws the air, The flow of low abuse grows brisker; He never turns an injured hair, Or lifts a deprecating whisker, For he knows well enough that they May gibe, but dare not disobey! Whether in dark, secluded walks He flouts the schemes that bad men work us; Or maiden ladies, screaming "Lawks!" Hang on his neck in Oxford Circus; His mien displays an abstract calm That soothes the fractured nerves like balm. Who spoors the burglar's nimble feet, And spots the three-card man's devices? Who hales before the judgment seat The vendor of unwholesome ices? Who's apt at any time to have his Complexion spoiled by hob-nailed navvies? It is indeed our Robert, or, As some prefer to say, our "Bobby"; The civil servant, paid to floor The wiles of those who'd kill or rob 'ee; Who keeps our premises secure, Our butter and our morals pure. And when we hear of fresh alarms, Of bombs and mutiny and massacre, Of citizens dispersed by arms, In countries where such things, alas! occur, Well may we urge our Robert's claim Alike to gratitude and fame. This is a fairly comprehensive summary of the multifarious activities of one who is, or, at any rate, was up to the end of 1918, more of an institution than a man. Though he lived in or just off Fleet Street, _Punch_ kept an eye on the growth of the charms of Greater London. In 1907 he printed his "Song of Six Suburbs (after Mr. Rudyard Kipling)":-- BRIXTON Though far outside the radius you roam, Where shall a fairer prospect meet the eyes? Brand-new, like Aphrodite from the foam, The homes of Brixton Rise. TOOTING Supreme am I, Suburbia's guiding star, And when I speak let lesser tongues be dumb; The prefix "Upper" shows the class we are; Where Tooting beckons, Come! HAMPSTEAD Upon your North-West Passage scale my heights, And mark the joyous crowds that sport beneath; Men call me "Happy": O the strange delights, The dalliance on my Heath! PECKHAM