And in the nights of winter When many a bottle’s floor’d, And gormandizing aldermen Gloat o’er the groaning board, Between the punch and turtle, The tale they still shall tell: How Lawrence jockey’d Besley―― How Gladstone managed well. _The Period._ 1869. The new Blackfriars Bridge was opened by the Queen on November 6, 1869, during the mayoralty of Alderman James C. Lawrence, who wished to be twice Lord Mayor of London, but he was beaten by Mr. Robert Besley. ―――― A LAY OF ANCIENT STOKE. Qucealy, the avenger, By the nine points he swore That the great Tichborne Claimant Should suffer wrong no more: By the nine points he swore it, And ere the polling day He straightway rose and gat him forth, And taking tickets for the North, He sped him on his way. Full rapidly yet surely, The Midland train runs fast, Until the town of potteries Is safely gained at last! Woe to the vile traducer Who treats it as a joke, For Qucealy the avenger Is on the march for Stoke. There be many whom the franchise Makes voters in the land, Who always by the public house, Both morn and evening stand. Evening and morn they linger About the open door; While each man’s little finger Is lifted o’er and o’er. And with one voice the voters Have their glad answers given “Go forth, go forth, Qucealy! Go forth, beloved of Heaven.” Or, in the plain vernacular Of these simple men of Stoke, “We’ll stick to you, Qucealy! Go in and win, old bloke!” I wis in all the Commons, When came the Doctor’s night, There was not e’en a vacant seat For none would miss the sight. Forthwith uprose the Premier, Uprose the Members all: Full speedily they seized their hats, And hied them to the hall. The Doctor’s brow is knit, And the Doctor’s speech is low, And frequently is heard “Ha, ha!” And now and then “Oh, oh!” But he flings aside their taunts, As when bounding o’er the plain, The lion shakes the dewdrops From off his tawny mane. “Ye honorable members Jeer on as best ye may; But I with two to help me Will keep you all at bay. A Jesuitical device May well be checked by three: Now who will stand on either hand To crush conspiracy?” Then out spake valiant Whalley, From Peterborough he, “_Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And give my voice with thee._” And outspake bould O’Gorman, Of Celtic blood was he, “_Whack philliloo! I’m wid you too. Acushla gra machree!_” The speeches now are ended, And lo! the ranks divide, And outsteps brave O’Gorman, With elephantine stride. And many fear what he may say, And at the thought grow pale! “_Is there any of yiz here would like To trid upon my tale?_”