originated, wee may, at least surmise the possibility of anticipated damage to the hedge by rough boys or inconsiderate men; yet, do we hold it to be quite a mistaken policy to debar by such means, the public (subscribers as well as others) from what may be justly regarded as an innocent pastime, excusable curiosity, and in these times of mild winters, a real novelty. Surely the wiser plan would have been to place a man to guard the hedge in question, if depredation by juveniles was the only thing sought to be prevented. - Ed.
The following also appeared as paid advertisements: - As a most spiteful and wanton outrage has been perpetrated by covering with tar the hedge of the Subscription Gardens at Maze Hill, to prevent the unwary passer by from looking over at the skaters, by which the dresses of ladies have been totally spoiled, and having had a valuable toilette shamefully destroyed, to show disgust at such proceedings, I shall withdraw my subscriptions from the gardens, &c. and wish to make known to the proprietors of the gardens this infamous act, as I hear that it is not the first time that it has been perpetrated. Another advertisement was thus worded; Caution! Pitch! Pitch! The Public are respectfully informed that the hedge overlooking the skaters in the Subscription Gardens is besmeared with this adhesive compound, familiarly known as the "Crinoline Dodge" by order.
One of the Defiled.
Guy Fawkes Re-Enacted.
Monologue
By prophetic seers mind,
By the cutting wintry wind
By the keen and searching air
By the sure thermometer,
By the clear, transparent sky
Well, I know that frost is nigh.
Frost, kind harbinger of gain
From our Gardens, which in vain
Steep’d in damp, in darkness hid,
Youths and maidens now avoid.
Well my feelings indicate
I must forth to Golding straight.
Dialogue.
Golding, when the gas burns low,
and no mortal eye can know,
When the Peeler on his beat
Traverses the distant street
When all nature sunk in sleep,
Blissful dreams their vigils keep,
Hie thee, Golding need I tell?
What I would you know full well.
When the clock doth midnight sound
get thee to the beaten ground.
Pry thee, Sir, I understand.
With a tar pot in my hand
Ere the latest echo sound
I shall be upon the ground
Through the Garden wend thy way
Lest some gas-light thee betray
Paths obscure suit dirty jobs
P'licemen's truncheons hurt men's nobs,
Captain Canister may be, [Glenister]
Promenades by night; and he,
Should he meet you with the pot,
May demand what soup you've got?
And, indignant, should he taste,
Pour it o'er your head in haste.
Or, perhaps, request, he might,
Why you carry pitch at night?
Fear not! Master Golding knows
In the dark, where'er he goes,
Can, in silence, wend his way
To the hedge; and break of day
Shall reveal a finished int
And, yet turncock save his not.
