Mark, Graham, mark those gorgeous crowds! Like Birds of Paradise the clouds Are winging on the wind! But what is grander than their range? More lovely than their sunset change?-- The free creative mind! XXXII. Well! the Adults' School's in the air! The greatest men are lesson'd there As well as the Lessee! Oh could Earth's Ellistons thus small Behold the greatest stage of all, How humbled they would be! XXXIII. "Oh would some Power the giftie gie 'em, To see themselves as others see 'em," 'Twould much abate their fuss! If they could think that from the iskies They are as little in our eyes As they can think of us! XXXIV. Of us! are we gone out of sight? Lessen'd! diminish'd! vanish'd quite! Lost to the tiny town! Beyond the Eagle's ken--the grope Of Dollond's longest telescope! Graham! we're going down! XXXV. Ah me! I've touch'd a string that opes The airy valve!--the gas elopes-- Down goes our bright Balloon!-- Farewell the skies! the clouds! I smell The lower world! Graham, farewell, Man of the silken moon! XXXVI. The earth is close! the City nears-- Like a burnt paper it appears, Studded with tiny sparks! Methinks I hear the distant rout Of coaches rumbling all about-- We're close above the Parks! XXXVII. I hear the watchmen on their beats, Hawking the hour about the streets. Lord! what a cruel jar It is upon the earth to light! Well--there's the finish of our flight! I've smoked my last segar! A _FRIENDLY_ ADDRESS TO MRS. FRY _IN_ NEWGATE.[21] "Sermons in stones."--_As You Like It._ "Out! out! damned spot!"--_Macbeth._ [Footnote 21: Elizabeth Fry had set up her school for the children in Newgate as early as 1817. Moll Brazen, Suky Tawdry, Jenny Diver, and the rest, are names borrowed from Gay's _Beggars' Opera_.] I. I like you, Mrs. Fry! I like your name! It speaks the very warmth you feel in pressing In daily act round Charity's great flame-- I like the crisp Browne way you have of dressing, Good Mrs. Fry! I like the placid claim You make to Christianity,--professing Love, and good _works_--of course you buy of Barton, Beside the young _Fry's_ bookseller, Friend Darton! II. I like, good Mrs. Fry, your brethren mute-- Those serious, solemn gentlemen that sport-- I should have said, that _wear_, the sober suit Shap'd like a court dress--but for heaven's court. I like your sisters too,--sweet Rachel's fruit-- Protestant nuns! I like their stiff support Of virtue--and I like to see them clad With such a difference--just like good from bad! III. I like the sober colors--not the wet; Those gaudy manufactures of the rainbow-- Green, orange, crimson, purple, violet-- In which the fair, the flirting, and the vain, go-- The others are a chaste, severer set, In which the good, the pious, and the plain, go-- They're moral _standards_, to know Christians by-- In short, they are your _colors_, Mrs. Fry! IV.