, these giants so tall
Watch the feast, but can't call
For a crumb,
As they're dumb,
And not living at all!
Else 'twould seem scarcely fair,
That when good things were by,
Gog and Magog should stare
From their pedestals high,
For if placed at a table
At least they'd look able,
To dine there and then
Like two live Aldermen!

The Cat's-Meat Man

He calls "Meat, meat!"
All down the street;
And dogs "bow-wow,"
And cats "mi-ow,"
While kittens sly
Come purring by,
As if to say--
"Do serve us, pray,
The first of all,
For we're so small."
The man throws bits
Of meat to kits,
And cats, and dogs;
Then on he jogs,
And down the street
Still cries "Meat, meat!"

The Night Watch

Policeman A, Policeman B,
Likewise Policemen C and D--
All in a row, sedate and slow,
Away to their beats, tramp! tramp! they go.

Now the first is beloved by Ann the cook,
And his manly face has a bashful look,
As he thinks, with a sigh, of the beer and the pie
He has had from those area steps close by.

And here are three housemaids trim and slim;
Mr. B. knows Betty is fond of him;
But Policeman C loves Cicely,
And Dolly's engaged to Policeman D.

CHAPEL OF THE FOUNDLING HOSPITAL

In Guildford Street, great London Town,
Is a Nursery, bigger than ever has been:
When each child grows up and leaves its walls,
Another new baby that day is seen
In the Foundling cots. Each little babe
Has no baby sister or baby brother,
And never shall know the anxious care
And tender touch of a loving mother.
But "Our Father," who gives their "daily bread"
To all of His creatures, caused kindly men
To build this home for famishing babes
From many a poverty-stricken den:
And here they are fed, and clothed, and taught,
And lift their voices in prayer and praise;
And here every Sunday the people flock
To hear the Anthem the Foundlings raise.

AFTER CHAPEL,
See them all
Assembled in
The DINING HALL.

The bugle sounds
E'er grace is sung,--
Then fork and spoon
And lip and tongue

Clatter, chatter,--
Such a noise!
Oh! such happy
Girls and boys.

The Flower Woman

"Flowers sweet and fair, Sir,
Flowers that any
Princ