Sniff the fetid sewer Smells-- Loathsome Smells! What a lot of typhoid their intensity foretells! Through the pleasant air of night, How they spread, a noxious blight! Full of bad bacterian motes, Quickening soon. What a lethal vapour floats To the foul Smell-fiend who glistens as he gloats On the boon. Oh, from subterranean cells What a gush of sewer-gas voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells In our houses! How it tells Of the folly that impels To the breeding and the speeding Of the Smells, Smells, Smells, Of the Smells, Smells, Smells, Smells, Smells, Smells, Smells-- To the festering and the pestering of the Smells! III. See the Spectre of the Smells-- London Smells! What a world of retrospect his tyranny compels! In the silence of the night How we muse on the old plight Of Kensington,--a Dismal Swamp, and lone! Still the old Swamp-Demon floats O'er the City, as our throats Have long known. And the people--ah, the people-- Though as high as a church steeple They have gone For fresh air, that Demon's tolling In a muffled monotone Their doom, and rolling, rolling O'er the City overgrown. He is neither man nor woman, He is neither brute nor human, He's a Ghoul; Spectre King of Smells, he tolls, And he rolls, rolls, rolls. Rolls, With his cohort of Bad Smells! And his cruel bosom swells With the triumph of the Smells. Whose long tale the scribbler tells To the _Times, Times, Times_, Telling of "local" crimes In the gendering of the Smells, Of the Smells: To the _Times, Times, Times_, Telling of Railway crimes, In the fostering of Smells,-- Of the Smells, Smells, Smells, Brick-field Smells, bone-boiling Smells, Whilst the Demon of old times With us dwells, dwells, dwells. The old Swamp Fiend of moist climes! See him rolling with his Smells-- Awful Smells. Smells. Smells-- See him prowling with his Smells, Horrid Smells, Smells, Smells-- London Smells, Smells, Smells, Smells, Smells, Smells, Smells,-- _Will_ the County Council free us from these Smells? * * * * * JUST NOW THE CHIEF NILE-IST IN PARIS.--CLEOPATRA. * * * * * [Illustration: "ENFANT TERRIBLE." "I'VE BROUGHT YOU A GLASS OF WINE, MR. PROFESSOR. _PLEASE_ DRINK IT." "VAT? BEFORE TINNER? ACH, VY?" "BECAUSE MUMMY SAYS YOU DRINK LIKE A FISH, AND I WANT TO SEE YOU--!"] * * * * * SEEING THE STARS. The following paragraph appears in the columns of the _Scottish Leader_:--