"O! _come_ along," said Lord Lollypop, "come along, _this_ way, ma'am! Go it, ye cripples!" and my lord pulled my dear Jemmy's gown in the kindest and most familiar way, she trotting on after him, mightily pleased to be so taken notice of, and I after her. A little boy went running across the green. "Who is it, Petitoes?" screams my lord. "Turk and the barber," pipes Petitoes, and runs to the pastrycook's like mad. "Turk and the ba—," laughs out my lord, looking at us: "_hurrah! this_ way, ma'am;" and, turning round a corner he opened a door into a court-yard, where a number of boys were collected and a great noise of shrill voices might be heard. "Go it, Turk!" says one "Go it, barber!" says another. "_Punch hith life out_," roars another, whose voice was just cracked, and his clothes half a yard too short for him! Fancy our horror, when, on the crowd making way, we saw Tug pummelling away at the Honourable Master Mac Turk! My dear Jemmy, who don't understand such things, pounced upon the two at once, and, with one hand tearing away Tug, sent him spinning back into the arms of his seconds, while, with the other, she clawed hold of Master Mac Turk's red hair, and, as soon as she got her second hand free, banged it about his face and ears like a good one. "You nasty—wicked—quarrelsome—aristocratic (each word was a bang)— aristocratic, oh! oh! oh!" Here the words stopped; for, what with the agitation, maternal solicitude, and a dreadful kick on the shins which, I am ashamed to say, Master Mac Turk administered, my dear Jemmy could bear it no longer, and sunk, fainting away, in my arms. [Illustration: See Swithin spout The water out; ] [Illustration: _A Wiper-snake pattern_ ] [Illustration: While wet sustains _Highgate_. ] THE MARCH TO FINCHLEY. Once out of town went big John Brown, A Sunday man so gay; He went with his life, and he went with his wife, And he went with his kids in a shay! The shay was like a lottery prize— Exceedingly hard to _draw_; And John Brown looked with both his eyes As _blank_ as ever you saw. Oh! very hot the summer's sun Shone over Somers town; By sweat—not slander—John was soon Exceedingly run down! With piping heat he plied his drag, While sinews paid the piper; At Highgate Hill his handkerchief Was turned into a "viper." He gave his family "a long And strong pull altogether;" But they in spite of sunshine soon Gave signs o£ _squally_ weather. John's wife survey'd her lord and shay With most maternal mind; She'd never such a load _before_, And so she push'd _behind_!