Hawthorn and Lavender | Page 8

a load of bricks_!
Her summer velvets dazzle
_WANSTEAD FLATS_,
And cost, at times, a good eighteen-and-six.
Withal, outside the gay and giddy whirl,
_'LIZA'S_ a stupid, straight,
hard-working girl.

VII. 'LADY'
Time, the old humourist, has a trick to-day
Of moving landmarks and
of levelling down,
Till into Town the Suburbs edge their way,
And
in the Suburbs you may scent the Town.
With _MOUNT ST._ thus
approaching _MUSWELL HILL_,
And _CLAPHAM COMMON_
marching with the _MILE_,
You get a _HAMMERSMITH_ that
_fills the bill_,
A _HAMPSTEAD_ with a serious sense of style.
So
this fair creature, pictured in _THE ROW_,
As one of that 'gay
adulterous world,' {79} whose round
Is by the _SERPENTINE_, as
well would show,
And might, I deem, as readily be found
On _STREATHAM'S HILL_, or _WIMBLEDON'S_, or where

Brixtonian kitchens lard the late-dining air.
VIII. BLUECOAT BOY
So went our boys when _EDWARD SIXTH_, the King,
Chartered
_CHRIST'S HOSPITAL_, and died. And so
Full fifteen generations
in a string
Of heirs to his bequest have had to go.
Thus
_CAMDEN_ showed, and _BARNES_, and _STILLING-FLEET_,

And _RICHARDSON_, that bade our _LOVELACE_ be;
The little
_ELIA_ thus in _NEWGATE STREET_;
Thus to his
_GENEVIEVE_ young _S. T. C._
With thousands else that,
wandering up and down,
Quaint, privileged, liked and reputed well,

Made the great School a part of _LONDON TOWN_
Patent as
_PAUL'S_ and vital as _BOW BELL_:
The old School nearing exile, day by day,
To certain clay-lands
somewhere _HORSHAM_ way.
IX. MOUNTED POLICE
Army Reserve; a worshipper of _BOBS_,
With whom he stripped the
smock from _CANDAHAR_;
Neat as his mount, that neatest among

cobs;
Whenever pageants pass, or meetings are,
He moves
conspicuous, vigilant, severe,
With his Light Cavalry hand and seat
and look,
A living type of Order, in whose sphere
Is room for
neither _Hooligan_ nor _Hook_.
For in his shadow, wheresoe'er he
ride,
Paces, all eye and hardihood and grip,
The dreaded _Crusher_,
might in his every stride
And right materialized girt at his hip;
And they, that shake to see these twain go by,
Feel that the _Tec_,
that plain-clothes Terror, is nigh.
X. NEWS-BOY
Take any station, pavement, circus, corner,
Where men their styles of
print may call or choose,
And there--ten times more _on it_ than
_JACK HORNER_--
There shall you find him swathed in sheets of
news.
Nothing can stay the placing of his wares--
Not bus, nor cab,
nor dray! The very _Slop_,
That imp of power, is powerless! Ever he
dares,
And, daring, lands his public neck and crop.
Even the
many-tortured London ear,
The much-enduring, loathes his
_Speeshul_ yell,
His shriek of _Winnur_! But his dart and leer
And
poise are irresistible. _PALL MALL_
Joys in him, and _MILE END_; for his vocation
Is to purvey the stuff
of conversation.
XI. DRUM-MAJOR
Who says _Drum-Major_ says a man of mould,
Shaking the meek
earth with tremendous tread,
And pacing still, a triumph to behold,

Of his own spine at least two yards ahead!
Attorney, grocer, surgeon,
broker, duke--
His calling may be anything, who comes
Into a room,
his presence a rebuke
To the dejected, as the pipes and drums

Inspired his port!--who mounts his office stairs
As though he led
great armies to the fight!
His bulk itself's pure genius, and he wears

His avoirdupois with so much fire and spright

That, though the creature stands but five feet five,
You take him for
the tallest He alive.
XII. FLOWER-GIRL
There's never a delicate nurseling of the year
But our huge
_LONDON_ hails it, and delights
To wear it on her breast or at her
ear,
Her days to colour and make sweet her nights.
Crocus and
daffodil and violet,
Pink, primrose, valley-lily, clove-carnation,
Red
rose and white rose, wall-flower, mignonette,
The daisies all--these
be her recreation,
Her gaudies these! And forth from _DRURY
LANE_,
Trapesing in any of her whirl of weathers,
Her flower-girls
foot it, honest and hoarse and vain,
All boot and little shawl and
wilted feathers:
Of populous corners right advantage taking,
And, where they squat,
endlessly posy-making.
XIII. BARMAID
Though, if you ask her name, she says _ELISE_,
Being plain
_ELIZABETH_, e'en let it pass,
And own that, if her aspirates take
their ease,
She ever makes a point, in washing glass,
Handling the
engine, turning taps for _tots_,
And countering change, and scorning
what men say,
Of posing as a dove among the pots,
Nor often gives
her dignity away.
Her head's a work of art, and, if her eyes
Be tired
and ignorant, she has a waist;
Cheaply the Mode she shadows; and
she tries
From penny novels to amend her taste;
And, having mopped the zinc for certain years,
And faced the gas,
she fades and disappears.
_The Artist muses at his ease_,

_Contented that his work is done_,
_And smiling_--_smiling_!--_as
he sees_
_His crowd collecting_, _one by one_.
_Alas_! _his
travail's but begun_!
_None_, _none can keep the years in line_,

_And what to Ninety-Eight is fun_
_May raise the gorge of

Ninety-Nine_!
MUSWELL HILL, 1898.
III. THREE PROLOGUES
I. BEAU AUSTIN
_By W. E. Henley and R. L. Stevenson_,
_Haymarket Theatre_,
_November_ 3, 1890.
Spoken by Mr. TREE in the character of Beau Austin.
'To all and singular,' as _DRYDEN_ says,
We bring a fancy of those
Georgian days,
Whose style still breathed a faint and fine perfume

Of old-world courtliness and