The Fire King set spurs to the steed he bestrode,
    Intent to mix pleasure with profit. 
  He was off to Vine Street in the Farringdon Road,
  And soon with the flames of fired naphtha it flowed
    As though ’twere the entry to Tophet.

  He sought HARROD’s Stores whence soon issued a blast
    Of oil-flame that lighted the City
  Then he turned to Cloth Fair.  Hold, my Muse! not too fast! 
  On the Fire King’s last victims in silence we’ll cast
    A look of respectfullest pity.

  But the Fire King flames on; Now he pulls up to snatch
    Some fodder.  The stable’s in danger. 
  His whip is a torch, and each spur is a match,
  And over the horse’s left eye is a patch,
    To keep it from scorching the manger.

  But who is the Ostler, and who is his lad,
    In fodder-supplying alliance,
  Who feed the Fire King and his Steed?  ’Tis too bad
  That TRADE should feed Fire, and his henchman seem glad
    To set wholesome Law at defiance.

  See, Trade stocks the manger, and there is the pail
    Full set by the imp Illegality! 
  That fierce fiery Pegasus thus to regale,
  When he’s danger and death from hot head to flame-tail,
    Is cruelly callous brutality.

  Ah, Justice looks stern, and, indeed, well she may,
    With such a vile vision before her. 
  The ignipotent nag and its rider to stay
  In their dangerous course is her duty to-day,
    And to do it the public implore her.

  “By Jingo!” cries Punch, “you nefarious Two,
    Your alliance humanity jars on! 
  If you feed the Fire Fiend, with disaster in view,
  And the chance of men’s death, ’twere mere justice to do
    To have you indicted for arson!”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  FELICITOUS QUOTATIONS.

“OH, ROBERT, THE GROUSE HAS BEEN KEPT TOO LONG!  I WONDER YOU CAN EAT IT!”

“MY DEAR, ‘WE NEEDS MUST LOVE THE HIGHEST WHEN WE SEE IT!’”

(Guinevere.)]

* * * * *

VOCES POPULI.

AT THE FRENCH EXHIBITION.

Chorus of Arab Stall-keepers. Come and look!  Alaha-ba-li-boo!  Eet is verri cold to-day!  I-ah-rish Brandi!  ‘Ere, Miss! you com’ ’ere!  No pay for lookin’.  Alf a price!  Verri pritti, verri nah-ice, verri cheap, verri moch!  And so on.

Chorus of British Saleswomen. Will you allow me to show you this little novelty, Sir? ’Ave you seen the noo perfume sprinkler?  Do come and try this noo puzzle—­no ’arm in lookin’, Sir.  Very nice little novelties ’ere, Sir!  ’Eard the noo French Worltz, Sir? every article is really very much reduced, &c, &c.

AT THE FOLIES-BERGERE.

    SCENE—­A hall in the grounds.  Several turnstiles leading to
    curtained entrances.