Who is this in the Weighing Chair? Wonderful trains! From morn till night,
Why, little Dot, I do declare ! Clattering through tunnels without daylight,
Three stone five ! "So much as that?" Hither and thither they run, up and down,
Calls out Miss Dot; "then I must be fat!" Beneath the streets of London Town.
On this and the opposite page you see Many prefer these trains instead
Dot's mother, and brother, and sisters three. Of the cabs and " Busses " overhead,
They wait for an underground train to come For they run much faster than horses can.
And carry them swiftly back to their home. Miss Dot's papa is a busy man,
And goes to the City every day
By the "Underground,"—the quickest way:
And One Hundred Millions of people, 'tis found,
Are carried each year by the "Underground."