informed that No.
34 on the Esplanade is on fire, or if that fails, he may throw in 33
and 35 as well. In fact, he need not be particular as to facts, but
_return with the Policeman he must!_ There is a good-sized crowd
assembled on the Esplanade, but as I am attired in a scarlet flannel
dressing-gown, white nightcap, and am arguing the Act of Parliament
with the deserted Christy Minstrel with some warmth, it may account
for it.
* * * * *
THE KING OF THE BEASTS.
_A ZOOLOGICAL ELEGY._
[CHARLES JAMRACH, the celebrated naturalist and
menagerie-keeper, of St. George's-in-the-East, died on
September 6, at the age of 76.]
The news on the town like a thunderbolt burst,
_The_ loss of the Season 'tis reckoned;
We mourned long ago for King JAMRACH THE FIRST,
Now we weep for King JAMRACH THE SECOND.
There's grief at the Zoo, all the Lions bohoo,
And the Elephants dolefully trumpet;
The Tiger's in tears, and the lonely Koodoo
With sorrow's as cold as a crumpet.
He was seventy-six; but to cross o'er the Styx
At that age--for a JAMRACH--was premature;
There are lots of young cubs who feel quite in a fix
At the thought that he will not see _them_ mature.
They howl with wide gorges to think that St.
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