OWr. Bromley-Davenport 



Then my tradesmen all about my doors most obstinately clung, 

 And their eyes on all my movements with a grave observance hung. 



So I said, * My faithful tailor, do a bit of stiff for me, 



Trust me yet — my uncle 's shaky — all his coin shall flow to thee.' 



On his greasy cheek and forehead came a colour and a light. 

 As I Ve seen the nimble lamplighter turn on the gas at night. 



And he said, * I 'm proud to serve thee, sir, as any gent in town. 

 If so shaky be thine uncle, thou shalt have the money down.' 



Credit seized the glass of time and dribbled out the golden sand. 

 Every day became more valueless my frequent note of hand. 



Health revived my hardy uncle ; now, alas ! he coughed no more, 

 And the day of his decease appeared more distant than before. 



Many a morning have I waited with my hopes upon the rack. 

 Vainly waited for the footman and a letter sealed with black. 



Oh, my tailor ! shallow-hearted ! oh, my tailor, mine no more ! 

 Oh, the dreary, dreary Bond Street ! oh, the Strand's unhappy 

 shore ! 



Is it well to use me thus, sir — having known me, to decline 

 Any further cash advances — with securities like mine } 



But it shall be — thou shalt lower to the level of a dun. 

 Seeking custom with acrostics like the Moseses and Son. 



As the tradesman, so the customer, and thou shalt measure clowns. 

 They shall pay thee for thy corduroys in ignominious browns. 



99 



