And still they go pacing—and racing—and chasing: And the Bum still the steps of the Captain is tracing: Away! and away! through each square, and each street! Though fleet rides the Captain, the Bum rides as fleet. "On! on!" shouts the Captain: "On! on!" shouts the Bum; "I promised thee Gold: come! I'll double the sum; So, on! push along! my good trusty Jehu! On! on! to the bridge that is called Waterloo." Now, galloping fast, by St. Giles's they've past; The Captain still first, and the Bailiff still last. Now, through High Street they pace—now, down Cross Street they race: With the Captain ahead, and the Bum giving chase. Then Long Acre's clear'd—and then Bow Street is near'd— Then the Theatre Royal Covent Garden appear'd— And then quickly in view came the Lyceum too— Hurrah! now they're close to the bridge Waterloo. So, gee up! and gee on! they go tearing along; Now jerking the reins—and now plying the thong; And the horses they bound away over the ground; And the mud flies about, as the wheels fly around. Bump! bump! over the stones—slosh! slosh! over the wood; Whack! whack! goeth each whip—quick! quick! quicker who could? And clattering—spattering—onward they go: "Hark forward! hark forward! for Surrey halloo!" Now there's no time to wait; and see! merciless fate! At the bridge a curst wagon doth block up the gate. 'Tis ruin to stay!—but one moment's delay, And the Captain he falls to the Bailiff a prey. But quickly the wight from the cab doth alight, Pays the toll, and on foot then continues his flight; Still ripe for the race, the Bum bounds from his place, Clears the gate, and on foot too continues the chase. Then huzzā! and huzzā! they go tearing away, Now out in the road—now upon the pavé: And, racing—and chasing—still onward they go; "Hark forward! hark forward! for Surrey halloo!" Now the goal draweth nigh—now the toll is hard by; And now, how they scamper!—and now, how they fly! And now, how they hurry!—and now, how they scurry! And, hip! hip! hurrah! now the Captain's in Surrey. Then the Captain turned round to the Limb of the Law; And he chaff'd, and he laugh'd at his craft, Haugh! haugh! haugh! And says he, "To catch me, sure the Bum must be cunning For the constable I have a knack of outrunning." That the Sheriffs in one county cannot arrest The "bodies" that bide in another's confest; So that Bailiff no longer that Captain can worry, For the Bum is in Middlesex—the body's in Surrey. [Illustration: WHERE CAN THE POLICE BE? ] [Illustration: THE BLUEBOTTLE THAT DESTROYS ALL THE COLD MEAT. ] [Illustration: Two things equally difficult to be met with. ] CURIOUS EXHIBITION. NEVER SEEN IN THIS COUNTRY. The Proprietors of the EGYPTIAN HALL are happy to state that they have made arrangements with the authorities of Scotland Yard, and, after considerable difficulty, procured the services of [Illustration: