Then Anstey arose, and he took off his clothes, To prepare for a six months' oration—oration; When Monsieur Dumas said he was but an ass, To bathe in the Hyde Park stagnation—stagnation. On which hurry-scurry they flew in a hurry, To shut Mrs. Gore in the Tower—the Tower— With Juba and Pell, to amuse her as well, Whilst she wrote fifteen novels an hour—an hour. But Charles Dickens caught up a plate quick as thought, And made it spin round on his finger—his finger: Till Wellington came, and observing his game, Was afraid any longer to linger—to linger. So Gilbert A'Beckett swore he would soon check it, And drew up a statement confessing—confessing, That all he had done had been nothing but fun, So Wakley might give him his blessing—his blessing. I next heard a scream, and a whistle and gleam, A racketing noise and a humming—a humming; And then an increase of the railway police Proved Mr. G. Hudson was coming—was coming. As he aimed at my head I jumped clean out of bed, For I knew he would give me no quarter—no quarter; And a knock at the door as I fell on the floor Show'd the servant had brought my hot water—hot water. [Illustration: THE TERMINUS OF THE SOUTH-WESTERN RAILWAY] A RAILWAY TRIP IN THE AUTUMN OF 1848 IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. It is not so easy to find the New Waterloo Terminus of the South-Western Railway, but, by dint of innumerable halfpence to innumerable little boys, and chartering several policemen, we found it at last. It is a good day's walk _from_ Waterloo Bridge—that is to say, if you cross the river in the morning, you may reach it before the evening; even then you will require to have a guide, or else you will infallibly pass it without ever suspecting that tremendous high wall, with a lamp-post growing out of the top, is [Illustration] [Illustration] The architecture of the terminus partakes very largely of the impromptu Band-box Order. The offices must have been designed by the architect who ran up in one day the House of Commons Committee Rooms. You imagine innumerable floors must have been torn up, for all the works published at this office are bound in strong boards. However, they look very light and airy, though hardly adapted, we should say, to stand against a strong wind. It would be a curious sight to see, some day next March, a covey of railway offices winging their way down the Strand in the direction of Birdcage Walk. But the railway is whistling to us. Suppose we take a four-penny trip down the line to view the SPLENDID SCENERY FROM WATERLOO BRIDGE TO NINE-ELMS. We believe there is nothing like it in the world, excepting the Blackwall line.