five shillings.”  Ring-a-ding, ring-a-ding, dong:  “The superb and splendid steam-packet, the Magnet, will leave the pier this morning at nine o’clock precisely, and land the passengers at the St. Catherine Docks—­fore-cabin fares and children four shillings—­saloon five shillings.”  Ring-a-ding, ring-a-ding, dong:  “Lost at the back of James Street—­a lady’s black silk—­black lace wale—­whoever has found the same, and will bring it to the cryer, shall receive one shilling reward.”  Ring-a-ding, ring-a-ding, dong:  “Lost, last night, between the jetty and the York Hotel, a little boy, as answers to the name of Spot, whoever has found the same, and will bring him to the cryer, shall receive a reward of half-a-crown.”  Ring-a-ding, ring-a-ding, dong:  “Lost, stolen, or strayed, or otherwise conveyed, a brown-and-white King Charles’s setter as answers to the name of Jacob Jones.  Whoever has found the same, or will give such information as shall lead to the detection and conversion of the offender or offenders shall be handsomely rewarded.”  Ring-a-ding, ring-a-ding, dong:  “Lost below the prewentive sarvice station by a gentleman of great respectability—­a pair of blue knit pantaloons, containing eighteen penny-worth of copper—­a steel pencil-case—­a werry anonymous letter, and two keys.  Whoever will bring the same to the cryer shall receive a reward.—­God save the King!"

Then, as the hour of nine approached, what a concourse appeared!  There were fat and lean, and short and tall, and middling, going away, and fat and lean, and short and tall, and middling, waiting to see them off; Green, as usual, making himself conspicuous, and canvassing everyone he could lay hold of for the Magnet steamer.  At the end of the jetty, on each side, lay the Royal Adelaide and the Magnet, with as fierce a contest for patronage as ever was witnessed.  Both decks were crowded with anxious faces—­for the Monday’s steamboat race is as great an event as a Derby, and a cockney would as lieve lay on an outside horse as patronise a boat that was likely to let another pass her.  Nay, so high is the enthusiasm carried, that books are regularly made on the occasion, and there is as much clamour for bets as in the ring at Epsom or Newmarket.  “Tomkins, I’ll lay you a dinner—­for three—­Royal Adelaide against the Magnet,” bawled Jenkins from the former boat.  “Done,” cries Tomkins.  “The Magnet for a bottle of port,” bawled out another.  “A whitebait dinner for two, the Magnet reaches Greenwich first.”  “What should you know about the Magnet?” inquires the mate of the Royal Adelaide.  “Vy, I think I should know something about nauticals too, for Lord St. Wincent was my godfather.”  “I’ll bet five shillings on the Royal Adelaide." “I’ll take you,” says another.  “I’ll bet a bottom of brandy on the Magnet,” roars out the mate.  “Two goes of Hollands’, the Magnet’s off Herne Bay before the