(My young son in the greengrocer line); or a governess, peaky and pale, As has just overslep herself slightly, and can't git by cab or by rail. "Ugly lumbering wehicles?" Ah! and we're ugly and lumbering too, A lot of us poor Penny 'Bus fares, as isn't high-born or true-blue. But the 'Bus is our help. Wery like some do ride as had far better walk, Whether tip-toppy swells or poor shop-girls. But all that is trumpery talk. What I arsk is, why shouldn't the 'Buses be kept a bit reglar, like Cabs, In the matter of fares and of distances? Oh, a old woman it crabs To hear of Perprietors pinching pore fellers as drive or conduck, While the "Pirates" play up merry mag with the poor helpless fare, as gets stuck Betwixt Dividend-grinders and Strikers? It ought to be altered, _I_ say. Whilst they talk of what 'Bus-folk should earn, they forget the pore Publick--who _pay_! * * * * * LE PRINCE S'AMUSE. _AN APOLOGETIC IDYL._ My life is held to be a round of Pleasures; All I can say is, they who thus would rate it, For life's delights have most peculiar measures: For though in plainest English they don't state it, 'Tis clear "no recreation" meets their views, Or why that sneering cry, "_Le Prince s'amuse?_" Or do they think a Prince, without repining, Foundation-stones unceasingly is laying, Rewarded with a glut of public dining, The pangs of hunger ever to be staying, Is recreation such as he would choose? If so--I understand "_Le Prince s'amuse!_" But how a world that notes his daily doings, The everlasting round of weary function,-- The health-returnings, speeches, interviewings. Can grudge him some relief, without compunction, Seems quite to me "another pair of shoes!" Dyspeptic is that cry, "_Le Prince s'amuse!_" * * * * * THE MODERN BRIGAND. (_FRAGMENT FROM THE ADVENTURES OF A RANSOMED PRISONER._) I must confess I was agreeably surprised at the treatment to which I was subjected by my capturers. Instead of being loaded with chains and confined in a cell beneath the castle's moat, I was given perfect liberty, and had quite a pleasant suite of rooms. I should scarcely have known that I was in durance had not one of the less refined of the brigands shown me a revolver, and playfully informed me that its contents were intended for me if I attempted to escape. The Chief was absolutely charming. He treated me in the most courteous manner, and ended his first interview with me by requesting "the honour of my company at dinner." "You need not dress!" he observed, "although I like to put on a tail-coat myself. But I know that you have had some difficulty with my people about your luggage, and so I shall be only too delighted to excuse _grande tenue_."