of London, indeed, one vast granite railway,
provided for the omnibus locomotive, free,
gratis, and for nothing?

The great principle, it will be seen, is
amalgamation. This, already tried with
great advantage in Paris, naturally
associated the plan of fusing into one great
enterprise the several associations working the
omnibuses of London. By great tact and diplomacy,
but with frequent and considerable difficulty,
one omnibus proprietor after another was
induced first to sell his stock and goodwill to
the company, and subsequently, in many
instances, to acquire a business interest in its
welfare. The acquisition of stock has been
slow and gradual; and this is why no great
street-appearances have been made as yet—
no bran new liveries started—no wondrous
new omnibuses paraded.

Though suggested by the Parisian example,
it does not seem to be the intention of the
company servilely to copy the French model.
The indicator, however, or dial tell-tale, is to
be adopted, and will be found, I think, far
superior
to all the clumsy and inefficient checks
in use at present. Admirable as is the
French system in other respects, there are
many phases of the constitution and management
that could not well be acclimated here.
On the other hand, we have some omnibus
facilities in England that the French do not
possess. Horse-keep is cheaper in England.
The English omnibus is not liable, as the
Parisian one, to have the annual tax to which
it is subjected increased by the government
or the municipality whenever the profits
reach a certain per-centage on the capital.
Iii Paris the outside fare is only half the
inside fare; but in England both fares are
the same, and both class of seats are, in
summer time, equally used.

It remains to be seen how the administrative
tact and clearsightedness of our
shrewd allies will succeed in developing, as in
organising, this colossal enterprise. It is
certain, however, that a new system was
imperatively needed, and that, company or no
company, the whole of travelling London has
been crying out for years for an omnibus
revolution.

            NEIGHBOUR NELLY.

        I'm in love with Neighbour Nelly,
            Though I know she's only ten,
        While I am eight-and-forty,
            And the married-est of men.
         I've a wife who weighs me double:
             I've three daughters, all with beaux;
        I've a son with noble whiskers,
            Who at me turns up his nose.

       Though a Squaretoes and a Buffer,
            Yet I've sunshine in my heart.
        Still, I'm fond of cakes and marbles-
            Can appreciate a tart.
         I can love my Neighbour Nelly
             Just as though I were a boy,
        And could hand her plums and apples
            From my depths of corduroy.

       She is tall, and growing taller;
             She is vigorous of limb;
       (You should see her play at cricket
             With her little brother Jim! )
       She has eyes as blue as damsons;
             She has pounds of auburn curls;
       She regrets the game of leap-frog
              Is prohibited to girls.

       I adore my Neighbour Nelly;
             I invite her in to tea,
       And I let her nurse the baby,
              Her delightful ways to see.
       Such a darling bud of woman!
             Yet, remote from any teens—
       I have learnt from Neighbour Nelly
             What the girl's Doll-instinct means.

       O to see her with the baby,
            (He adores her more than I),
       How she choruses his crowing,
             How she hushes ev'ry cry!
       How she loves to pit his dimples,
            With her light forefinger, deep;
       How she boasts, as one in triumph,
            When she's got him off to sleep!

       We must part, my Neighbour Nelly,
            For the summers quickly flee.
        And thy middle-aged admirer
            Must, too soon, supplanted be.
        Yet—as jealous as a mother,
            A suspicious, canker'd churl—
        I look vainly for the setting
            To be worthy such a pearl.

THE NINTH OF JUNE.

IN TEN CHAPTERS. CHAPTER THE SEVENTH.

Four months had passed away. Four
months of lonely agony for the untried
prisoners in Derby jail; four months of
unwearied machination against them from
their enemies. In. this time Mr. Flip, of the
Royal Chesterfield Mail, had resigned his
Majesty's service, and accepted office under
the proprietary of the Derby Swiftsure; some
said to be oftener in the bar of the Royal
George.

Considering that it was his pride always
to change horses, even at those attractive
stables, in one minute and three-quarters,
the accomplished whip kept his foot
unconscionably long on the roller-bolt, and took an
aggravating time to divide the reins between
his fingers on the open sunshiny day which
preceded the trial of George Dornley for high
treason at Derby; yet, he could not ascend his
throne without a full and satisfying view of
the gorgeous apparition that had flitted
before him at the bar of the Royal George.
He would not say how many years he had
known and loved the landlady in her bar-
dress (he had never seen her in any other),
and had gone on driving through life in