p. 81IX. MOUNTED POLICE

p. 81

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.

Bobs

Candahar

p. 82X. NEWS-BOY

p. 82

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.

Jack Horner

Pall Mall

Mile End

p. 83XI. DRUM-MAJOR

p. 83

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 

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