Volume 147 — EN PASSANT.

Loud swells the roar of traffic in the street, The motor-buses rumble on and wind Their plaintive warnings as they come behind Faint folk who dally, dazed by summer heat; The reckless taxis seem a deal too fleet To country cousins nervously inclined, And raucous news-boys fret the curious mind With spicy rumours of the foe's defeat. But suddenly a hush falls everywhere: Stopp'd is each taxi with its languid load, And, as the City's silence deeper grows, Only a barrel-organ churns the air While Peggy (in the middle of the road) Pauses to put some powder on her nose!