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208
Maxwell and I.

with that, you'd little think that all the time he was a-composing the verses as he sings five minutes after on the platform. But he is, sir—rhymes and all!"

We listened with increased interest to the singer after this description of his peculiarities. He was extremely political, and was very hard upon Lord Derby, and very patronizing indeed, when he had occasion to allude to the Royal Family—every member of which appeared to enjoy ex officio the advantage of his protection and his encouragement—which was the more remarkable as he was for upsetting every other constituted authority. He touched upon the American differences, and having demolished the North at a blow, proceeded to slap General Garibaldi on the back, annihilate the police system, and to tell us that we had a great many more bishops than was good for us. He was vociferously encored (my friend, the waiter, going into ecstasies over him), and he obligingly favoured us with another of his composition, in which he advised Britons generally to go in for their rights, which he described as,

"A pipe, my brother; a bowl, my brother;
A maiden fair of a beauty rare,
To comfort your jolly old soul, my brother;
Sing cheerily ho! sing ho!"

Then a terrible woman with big bones, a raw brazen voice, and her hair parted at the side, came on to the stage and screamed and roared, and slapped her hands, and danced, and then sang again, and then danced and sang and banged herself once more, which was her energetic way of advising you, under all