The Mistery of a Hansom Cab? Oh yes, I've read it; or leastways dipped into it.

Rayther perlice-newsy sort of a story; strong flaviour of murder and unsweetened gin to it.

"Less cab than license," young Mulberry sniggers. Young Mulberry fancies 'imself as a joker.

Still, we do 'ave some rum finds in our cabs, from a set o' false teeth to a red-ended poker.

Give me a shiver the latter thing did, I 'ad just dropped one fare and 'ad took up a foller.

First was a gloomyish kind of a cove with a oystery heye and cheeks saller and oller;

Second as smart a young minx as you'd meet. I 'ad 'ardly whipped up when I 'eard such a squeaking,

And sharp through the trap shoved a scarlet-hued summat. It give me a turn, in a manner o' speaking.

Parties are wonderful partial to prodding with brolly or walking-stick, ah yes, and rifles.

Fares when they want you to pull up 'ave got little thought for your eyes and they don't stick at trifles.

But this was a rayther unusual prodder! "'Old 'ard, Miss," I says. "Wot's this 'ere little caper?"

"Oh, Cabby!" she squeals, "put me down! It's a 'orror—I found in the corner 'ere—wropped in brown paper!"

Out she would git; when, a puffin' and wheezin', up came the old buffer who'd left it behind 'im.

"That's mine!" 'e gulps, and 'e grabs it like winking. "Ah, my poor Joey! I wish I could find 'im

One 'arf as easy. The cleverest clown, Miss, in England; and this was 'is favrit hot poker.

All 'e 'as left to remember 'im by!"—an' 'e 'ugged it. I pitied the saller old joker.

But Miss, she turned rusty, and cut up 'er didos. "You ought to know better," she sniffed. "It's just ojus

To leave 'orrid objecks like that in a cab; though I own it's well fitted, and 'ighly commojus;

But lor', 'ow it scared me!" "Well, lydy," I says, being roughed up a bit by 'er stuckuppy manner,

"It wouldn't 'a' bit you, or burnt you, if you 'adn't opened it, I'll bet a quid to a tanner."

Whereon she flounced off without paying no fare. "Humph!" snorts the old gent, and forks over a shilling.

Talk about 'onesty! Give the respectables charnce of a safe bite, and ain't they just willing?

'Onesty's scarcer than millions, I reckon. You just leave a purse or a pencil-case 'andy

For fares to lay 'old on, and see if there's much of a choice 'twixt poor Cabby and polished-up dandy.

But t'other evening, a 'igh-nosed old dowager tipped me bare fare, and away she was sailing

When I twigged a smart seal-skin bag in 'er 'and as I knew my last fare—who seemed toddly and ailing—

Had carried before, and it chinked as she shook. "Excuse me," I says, "but that bag, mum—I'll trouble you!"

Lord, if you'd seen 'er flush up and go fluttery! 'Taint only snobs as'll dodge you and double you.

Nobs very often are spry on the nick. Klepto-something or other they call it in their case.

Old Billy Boger 'as told me that once 'e was landing a 'eavyish trunk up a staircase,

And 'eard the young lady fare whisper 'er Ma, "Oh, see wot I've found in the cab!"—"'Ush, my darling!"

The old dutch garsps out. And old Bill did'nt get it—the bracelet— without lots o' sniffing and snarling.

Yah! They are dreadfully down on poor Cabbies who don't toe the mark in the matter o' pickings,

But what with the Burlington bilks, and the toffs as you can't trust too fur when there's prospeck of nickings,

And all the mean fakes that a cabby is fly to, in fares who're well-off and did ought to know better,

The rank doesn't think much of hupper-class 'onesty, give you my word. Now I'm off for a wetter!