Sweet to return from bargaining, disputing, _Pourboires_ and _Trinkgelds_ grudgingly bestowed-- Unto the simple charioteers of Tooting, Or the Cromwell Road. Sweet to return from "all those dreadful tourists," Such mixed society as chance allots, E'en to the social splendour of the purists Of those sparkling spots. Sweet to return to bills and fogs and duty! (Some of the latter at our Custom House) Sweet, after smaller game, to hail the beauty Of the British mouse! Sweet too the sight of cockchafer; and sweet'll Welcome the pilgrim, doomed too long to roam, England's tried sentinel, the black, black beetle With his "Home, sweet Home!" * * * * * [Illustration: LONDON'S DILEMMA; OR, "FAIR ROSAMOND" UP TO DATE. (_Lately-discovered Fragments of a valuable and interesting "Variant" of the old Ballad Story._)] * * * * * When as VICTORIA rulde this land, The firste of that greate name, Faire Loundonne, of the cockneyes lovde, Attaynd to power and fame. Most peerlesse was her splendoure founde, Her favour, and her face; Yet was there one thing marred her weale, And wroughte her dire disgrace. Her dower was all that showered golde, Like Danaë's, could her lende, Yet dwelt she in the ogreish holde Of fell and fearsome fiende. Yea Loundonne Towne, faire Loundonne Towne, Her name was calléd so, To whom the Witch Monopolie Was known a deadlye foe. * * * * * Now when ye Countie Councile woke, And FARRER rose to fame, With envious heart Monopolie To Loundonne straightway came. "Cast off from thee those schemes," said she, "That greate and costlye bee, And drinke thou up this deadlye cup, Which I have brought to thee!" "Take pitty on my awkward plight!" Faire Loundonne she dyd crye, "And lett me not with poison stronge Enforcéd be to dye!" Then out and laught that wicked Witch: "If that you will not drinke, This dagger choose! Though you be riche, You'll shrinke from _that_, I thinke." The dagger was a magic blayde, With figures graven o'er, Which, as you gazed thereon, did seeme To growe to more and more. "Nay," quothe faire Loundonne, "'tis but choyce 'Twixt dyvill and deepe sea! I praye thee take thyself awaye, And leave the jobbe to me!" But nothynge could this grasping Witch Therewith appeaséd be. The cup of deadlye poison stronge, As she knelt on her knee, She gave this comely dame to drinke, Who tooke it in her hande, Then from her bended knees arose, And on her feet did stande. And casting Council-wards her eyes, She did for rescue call, When--[_Fragmentes further may be founde,_ _At presente thys is alle!_