ght or ten at least, when the same
party--especially if a dinner party--had to go over it again on their
way back. This difficulty has been felt so strongly at times, that every
one of the party has preferred--at that late hour--stopping where he
was, instead of walking home all that distance. These unnecessary
difficulties imperatively call for a speedy answer to the puzzling
question, "What is a Mile?" for hitherto the question has been passed
over by our Police magistrates, from one parish to another, like a
pauper, for the want of a settlement.

* * * * *

[Illustration: ACCORDING TO ACT OF PARLIAMENT.
Lady. "_Your fare's Sixpence, I think? Please to knock at the door._"

Cabby. "_Not if I knows it, Marm.--The Hact 'bleeges me to take Sixpence
a Mile, but it don't 'bleege me to knock at a door._"]

* * * * *

A CABMAN'S PROTEST AGAINST THE HINJUSTICE OF THE HACT.

Vy, here's a pretty time o 'day! a precious hact indeed!
I'm blest if, since I tuk the vip, the like I ever seed.
The ould hacts they vos dreadful bad, and cut us all to bits;
For justice from just-asses a poor Cabman never gits:
Though he may do the thing vot's fair, the fare the thing vot's shabby,
It's all the same; the ugly beak is allus down on Cabby.

But look at this 'ere hact: my eye! there's fine and pris'n, too!
I vonder vot the Parleyment is going next to do.
Just s'pose a fare should leave a purse or pocket-book behind,
And s'pose, ven I gits to my stand, the book or purse I find;
It isn't mine, it's werry true, but I don't know it's his'n;
And there comes claws eleven, and claws a 'onest man to pris'n!

Then see the "rates" in Sheddle A, vy vot a shame it is
To drag two fat uns near a mile, and only git a tiz!
Now s'pose a twelve-stun fare comes up and takes me off the rank,
And makes me drive him, pretty sharp, from Smiffield to the Bank;
I civ'lly axes eighteenpence, and cheap, too, for the job--
He sticks into me claws seventeen, and fines me forty bob!

Ve're chaffed and jeered by every cove, by slaveys on a bus;
Our werry watermen are now our masters top of us.
A po-lice chap may poke his dirty mug into my cab,
And, if he says it isn't clean, my license he may grab;
And arterwards, if I but "use" my own cab, I must pay,
Says claws the third, a penalty of sixty bob a day!!!

Vy, haven't Cabmen feelings? Then vot righ