THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 r."^^ 
 
 \,'^f\A^ 
 
 (pJ^ 
 
 it- 
 
 JlA^wA 

 
 ^y^ 
 
 LYRICS AND LAYS. 
 
 BY 
 
 PIPS 
 
 CALCUTTxV : 
 PUBLISHED BY WYMAN BROS., HARE STREET. 
 
 1S67.
 
 OXLCTJTTA CRNTEAL PBBS3 COMPANY, tlUITED, 
 5, COUNCIL H0U3B 8TBBKT.
 
 
 THE COMFORT OF MT LIFE OF TOIL, 
 MT TREASURED LITTLE WIFE. 
 
 94
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Triple Sell 1 
 
 The Masonic Dinner 14 
 
 The Musk-rat and Planter 20 
 
 The Song of El Blase 29 
 
 The Chee-Chee Ball 32 
 
 The Boxwallah 35 
 
 Helen Mackay's Last Appeal 40 
 
 Translation 43 
 
 Reply to " Fare Thee Well and If For Ever" 45 
 
 Acrostic 48 
 
 The Union Bank Shareholder and the Rook 49 
 
 Non Confundar in sternum 56 
 
 The A. D. C— Best Man and Chief-Mourner 59 
 
 The Bengalee " Boy Jones" . 62 
 
 The Song of Death 69 
 
 The Wife's Welcome 75 
 
 Home Sickness 77 
 
 Hiawatha in Calcutta 81 
 
 " Our Visiting Brethren" 95
 
 vi Contents 
 
 PAOB. 
 
 Excelsior ! 98 
 
 The Entered Apprentice's Toast 101 x 
 
 Tlie Tyler's Toast 104 
 
 In Memoriam 106 
 
 Ah, Broken is the Golden Bowl 109 
 
 Theresa Yelverton Ill 
 
 The Deserted District , . . . ll!^ 
 
 To Little L y 115 
 
 The Meeting of the Justices 118 
 
 The "Alabama" 121 
 
 The Scream of the American Eagle 1'23 
 
 My " CoUeen Bawn" 125 
 
 The Album and the Bet 127 
 
 In Memoriam 129 
 
 The Great Rent Case 132 
 
 The Calcutta Race-Course 154 
 
 " Write, Sportsmen, Write" IGl 
 
 The Great Durbar , ... 165 
 
 Paradise and the Peeler 190 
 
 The Vice-Regal Fancy-Bail 201
 
 THK 
 
 INEVITABLE PHEEACE, 
 
 The Printers have told iiie positively that this 
 book canuot be publislied without a Preface. I beg 
 therefore, by way of Preface, to state that these effusions 
 of mine have been collected from the " Eug-lishman," 
 the " Indian Daily News/' the " Indian Freemason's 
 Friend/' the " Oriental Sporting Magazine/' and a scrap- 
 book of my own. I know that some of the so-called 
 squibs have created a smile on many a friend's face, 
 even during the ennui of an Indian hot weather. If they 
 do so again, I shall be well rewarded for the trouble 
 which their collection and revision have iriven me. 
 
 Calcntta, May 1867.
 
 LYRICS AND LAYS, 
 
 BY 
 
 PIPS. 
 
 THE TRIPLE SELL. 
 
 In 1849, Lord Gough, then ConiDaander-in-Chief in India, was 
 about to retire from the command, and Sir "William Gomm, who was 
 at the Mauritius, had already been nominated to succeed him, when 
 the second Sikh Campaign broke out and Lord Gough toolc the field 
 once more. Ho was all but defeated at Moodkee, FerozeshtU", and 
 Chill ian wallah. The public outcry at home for the immediate despatch 
 of Sir Charles Napier to relieve Lord Gough was so great that the 
 Court of Directors reluctantly sent him out. But Lord Gough fought 
 and won the battle of Guzerat, which completely put an end to the 
 campaign, and Sir Charles Napier came out too late and had to go back 
 again. When Sir "William Gomm arrived he found that Sir Charles 
 hud been sent for, and he too was sold ; eventualiy he was confirmed 
 in the appointment. 
 
 liiH L 
 
 The Court of Directors in old Loadeuliall^ 
 
 With visages g-rim and pale_, 
 Have met to discuss what has troubled them all^ 
 
 The news hv the Overland Mail. 
 
 •X-
 
 How the fiery Gougli liad been silly enough 
 
 To get fierce at a single shot. 
 And a jungle thick with his men to stuff, 
 
 Where the fire was frightfully hot. 
 
 How the Sikhs mow^d down our men like grass. 
 
 How some of our men ran away, 
 How the great " Cold Stayle^' behaved like an ass. 
 
 On Chillianwallah^s sad day. 
 
 " Now listen, my friends," said their Chairman grave, 
 
 " This news is dismal enough ; 
 " Oh ! where shall we find a veteran brave 
 
 " To take the command from old Gough ? 
 
 " An awful ofiicial I hold in my hand 
 " From that obstinate pig-headed Duke, 
 
 " Which begins uncommonly like a command 
 " And finishes with re])uke. 
 
 " It commands us to India old Charlie to send 
 " To fight out this wretched campaign ; 
 
 " We long ago made of the old man an end — 
 " We surely won^t have him again.
 
 The Triple Sell. 3 
 
 " Another g-ood soldier there needs must be 
 " In England's army true, 
 
 " If not much better as g-ood as he 
 
 &^ 
 
 " Who in this sore trouble will do 
 
 )i 
 
 Then loud did they bawl, the Directors all, 
 
 '^ The Duke shall not interfere ; 
 " We're the rulers of India in old Leadenhall, 
 
 " We'll have none of the Napiers here." 
 
 But their wrath and fuming were all in vain, 
 For all, throughout England, cried, 
 
 " Send out old Charlie to India again 
 " Ere worse luck us betide." 
 
 And so the Directors did eat their leek 
 
 And swallow most humble pie. 
 And they order'd old Charlie within the week 
 
 Again to the wars to hie. 
 
 Sir Charles Napier was fond of a fight 
 
 Altho' an old man was he, 
 And he laugh'd and he cried with great delight — 
 
 Once more in arms to be. 
 
 " Now where is my page so bold," quoth he, 
 
 '^ And where is my portmanteau ? 
 " Now pack me a shirt and some soap and see 
 
 " llow soon the ' Ripon ' will go."
 
 4 The Triple Sell. 
 
 Ag-ain to the wars tliis ag-cd knight 
 
 llush'd off with boyish g-lee^ 
 And, oh, 'twas a goodly pleasant sight 
 
 The curl of his beard to see. 
 
 Full many a night, full many a day. 
 
 Full many a week and more, 
 Passed by ere the anxious warrior stept 
 
 Again upon India's shore. 
 
 And when he arrived how he cursed his fate. 
 
 He tore his hair outright. 
 The Sikhs had been thrash'd, he was all too late 
 
 For anything like a fight. 
 
 But cursing his fate was useless now. 
 
 And tearing his hair all vain, 
 lie came to India to share in the row 
 
 But — had to go back again ! 
 
 And thus the warrior himself was sold. 
 And the Court of Directors too — 
 
 They felt that they had been sadly cajoled. 
 And he had found nothing to do.
 
 The Triple Sell. 5 
 
 gjut 2. 
 
 CIIILLIANWALLAH. 
 
 Nig'lit closes o'er the battle plain 
 Where hundreds of unburied slain 
 
 Are stretched in l.)loody groups. 
 And those who ne'er will fig-ht ag-ain 
 Throughout that silent g-hastly train 
 
 Are mostly British troops. 
 
 And 'mid the camp-fire's lurid glare 
 "With voice supprcss'd, wdth sullen air_, 
 
 Long through the weary night, 
 The worn survivors deeply swear 
 At him whose folly led them where 
 
 They had no chance to fight. 
 
 And to and fro before his tent, 
 His rage all gone, his fury spent, 
 
 Lord Gough doth slowly pace ; 
 Deep shame and anguish both are Ijlent 
 In every line and lineament 
 
 Of the old warrior's face.
 
 The Triple Sell. 
 
 Well may he gaze thro' mist and i-ain 
 To where the Sikhs their camp maintain. 
 
 And think on what he has done; 
 The vvliole day long he has fought in vain. 
 The Sikhs have got their guns again, 
 
 Alas ! what has he won ? 
 
 That morning with the dawn of light 
 He suddenly had come in sight 
 
 Of thirty thousand Sikhs, 
 And burning for the coming fight 
 His heart heat hig-h with fiei'ce delight, 
 
 And flushM his florid cheeks. 
 
 At once he markM his plan of attack 
 When the Sikhs sent a shot across liis track. 
 
 Close to his startled horse ; 
 Of patience Lord Gough had a dreadful lack. 
 He gave the word to load on in a crack 
 
 The whole of the British force. 
 
 How Chillianwallah's fight was fought. 
 
 And how Lord Gough great wonders wrought. 
 
 And how he spiked a gun, 
 How bitter a lesson that Lord was taught. 
 How instead of Shere Singh a Tartar he caught. 
 
 Are known to every one.
 
 So leave him at, tlie great tent door. 
 And let him there his loss deplore, 
 
 For he aveng-ed it well. 
 He played the Irish fool no more. 
 And well he kept the oath he swore 
 
 That nicjlit the Sikhs to sell. 
 
 "&' 
 
 GUZERAT. 
 
 Now turn we to another strain 
 
 And to another fight, 
 And write in far more pleasant vein 
 
 Of a more pleasant sight. 
 
 ^Twas morn, and scarce the god of day 
 Had tipped the clouds with gold. 
 
 When bugle call and trumpet bray 
 Of cominsT battle told. 
 
 o 
 
 Old Chutter Singh had joined his son. 
 And Whish had joinM Lord Gough ; 
 
 The odds were then fuU ten to one. 
 The Sikhs would have enough. 
 
 *o' 
 
 For quiet was Lord Gough that day. 
 
 He kept the oath he swore. 
 That at long bowls heM blaze away 
 
 Until the fight was o^er.
 
 S The Triple Sell. 
 
 Ah ! turn ye, turn ye, Sikhs so bold, 
 
 Ah ! turn you, Chutter Siug-h, 
 Or else you surely will be sold 
 
 For all your blusterinj^. 
 
 Four times did charge the Afghan horse. 
 
 With shouts and gestures dire. 
 And four times turned they in mid course. 
 
 They relished not the fire. 
 
 For such a storm of round and grape 
 
 Pour'd from the British side. 
 That no one could that storm escape 
 
 Wlio did not quickly ride. 
 
 And when but three short hours had pass'd. 
 
 Lord Gough was fairly dazed 
 To see the Sikhs had fired their last. 
 
 Their guns no longer blazed. 
 
 Then cried he, " Let our line advance 
 
 " And strike the final blow, 
 *' Each Lancer forward with his lance 
 
 " To spear the flying foe.^' « 
 
 And as Shore Singh perceived the line 
 
 Advancing thro^ the smoke, 
 He said " By Allah, this is fine, 
 
 '' But ah ! it is no jokc.^'
 
 llie Triple Sell. 
 
 His govei-nor was standing- by. 
 
 And to hi in turned his son ; 
 " Now g-overnor, let you and I 
 
 " Like blazes cut and run." 
 
 Woe, woe, unto the Sikhs that day ; 
 
 You could not count the slain. 
 Or those who badly wounded lay 
 
 Upon that bloody plain. 
 
 Thus Hugh Lord Gough did sell the Sikhs 
 
 And all the world beside. 
 And no one for his former tricks 
 
 That lord docs now deride. 
 
 ^nvt o. 
 
 sill AVILLLVM GOMM. 
 
 There was a knight of great renown, a soldier brave 
 
 was he, 
 Altho^ he never had the luck a sing-le fight to see. 
 
 The only w'ar-note he had heard was beat of evening 
 drum, 
 
 Or bugle call upoii parade; his name was William 
 Go mm.
 
 10 The Triple Sell. 
 
 This knig^ht had Lceu the Governor of famed Mauritius 
 Isle^ 
 
 And well we know he governed there in very brilliant 
 
 style ; 
 
 His reig-n of course expired with the usual term of years. 
 And he gave up the government in silence and in tears. 
 
 And, oh ! throughout the Isle of France what grief 
 was in each heart, 
 
 "With such a fine old Governor to think that they must 
 part ; 
 
 And old and young thus murmured there in sad and 
 mournful strain, 
 
 " When will this Island ever have such a Governor 
 again V 
 
 But all such pain is ever vain when hostile fates decree 
 
 The Governor and the governed henceforth must parted be. 
 
 So the men soon gave up inui-muring, the women dried 
 their eyes, 
 
 And pleasant smiles and laughter took the place of tears 
 and sighs. 
 
 And Sir "William was ai)pointed, to his very great relief, 
 
 To the post he long had sighM for, the Indian Army^s 
 Chief; 
 
 Ah ! thankfully he read the letter that order'd him to 
 start. 
 
 And the gentle hint from 'Government to look a little 
 smart.
 
 "Now rnn my page and quickly see what ship will soon- 
 est g-o 
 
 And in the twinkling" of an eye come back and let me 
 know. 
 
 For in this little Island I may no longer stay, 
 
 Now go at once and see what ship will first be under 
 weigh." 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 ^ 
 
 Glorious has the sun gone down 
 
 To his golden rest. 
 Darker shadows have been thrown 
 
 Over ocean's breast. 
 
 Gently sighs the evening breeze, 
 Fall the dews of night. 
 
 Glides yon vessel through the seas 
 In the calm moonliirht. 
 
 On her deck Sir William Gomm 
 Takes his evening cheer, 
 
 Thinking of the time to come 
 And his past career; 
 
 Happy in the pleasing dream 
 Of his appointment good, 
 
 Truly doth Sir AYilliam seem 
 In a pleasant mood.
 
 u 
 
 TJie Tt'iplc Sell. 
 
 The provcrl) he hath quite forgot, 
 
 A proverb all unmateh'd, 
 "To count his chicks a man ought not 
 
 Till they all are hatch\l." 
 
 ■5f 
 
 •X- 
 
 Another barque is sailing- o^er that tranquil moonlit sea 
 
 And coming up is rounded to under the stranger's lee; 
 
 A boat soon lowered from her side comes dancing o'er 
 the wav e 
 
 And takes on board the stranger, the Pilot stern and 
 crave. 
 
 No sooner is his foot on deck than all about him crowd 
 
 And for the chief and latest news each one doth ques- 
 tion loud. 
 
 "Now tell us, honest Pilot, all the news that you have 
 brought, 
 
 "How goes that dreadful Sikh campaign, what battles 
 have been ibuii-ht ?" 
 
 And to such questions adds the knight with conscious 
 pride and glee 
 
 "The Commander-in-Chief of India in mc, my friend, 
 you see !" 
 
 "Now noble Sir," the Pilot said, "you surely do not 
 know 
 
 '' Of what at home did happen but a little while ago.
 
 The Triple Sell. 1:3 
 
 ^'How the aged Charlie Napier all Eno-laiul did i?elect 
 
 ''To fill that fine appointment which you yourself 
 expect/' 
 
 ''Ah me ! ah me ! can this he true ? Oh ! Pilot say not so^, 
 
 "Oh ! never on myself hcfore did fall so sad a hlow/' 
 
 It was indeed alas too true Sir AVilliam Gomm did find^ 
 
 And o-rief and hitter rag-e now filFd his lately happy 
 mind. 
 
 He raved and storm\l at every one and like old Charlie 
 swore. 
 
 He smote his hand upon his breast, his hair he wildly 
 tore. 
 
 And thus Sir William Gomm was sold, his Aides-de- 
 camp the same, 
 
 "VYho came here onhisstafi" in hopes to reap renown and 
 fame ; 
 
 And 'tis a pleasant task for me, far more than I can tell, 
 
 To close this last and saddest part, of this thrice dis- 
 mal sell.
 
 1 1- The Masonic Dinner, 
 
 THE MASONIC DINNER. 
 
 On Iho laying of the fonndation stone of the Calcutta Fever 
 Hospital in 1848, the Governor General, then Lord Dalhonsio, a 
 great mason, was present as a guest. 
 
 Bpg-irt with many a brother true 
 
 AppareFd in masonic dress. 
 The Pro. Grand Master's looks were hhte 
 
 And something- on his mind did press. 
 
 Bright shone the jewels of his rank, 
 
 His collar, apron, both were new, 
 But something made his face seem blank, 
 
 And all rcmark'd that G — t look'd blue. 
 
 "Why looks he so?" each one did ask. 
 
 And ever thus the answer ran, 
 " He has this night the awfid task 
 
 Of entertaining a great man." 
 
 Aye, the g-reatest man in all the land 
 Had come to join the masons' board. 
 
 To take each humble brother's hand 
 And in the mason drop the lord.
 
 The Jllasouic Dinner. 15 
 
 The brethren are met in the old Town Hall 
 And gaily their banners hang out from each wall. 
 Those banners whose symbols such secrecy lend 
 With flags of all nations mysteriously blend, 
 And twined round the pillars with exquisite care 
 Are the compasses, gavel, gauge, chisel, and square, — 
 The All-seeing Eye and the man in the moon 
 And the cock that wakes masons a great deal too soon, 
 While double triangles, with trowel and hod. 
 And skull and cross-bones look decidedly odd. 
 And now every brother sits down in his place 
 With an air of deep mystery over his face. , 
 Dark-blue and gold collars are worn by the swells 
 While light-blue and silver of lower rank tells. 
 (Those colours so loved after wearisome cram. 
 The dark-blue of Isis, the light-blue of Cam). 
 The Provincial Grand Master presides at the board. 
 On his right sits the guest of the evening, a lord, 
 A real liv^e lord come to dine with the craft ! 
 The thought almost drives the poor Grand ]Master daft ! 
 On his left sits old Longuey, a Nestor of law. 
 And ever midst masons a real Bashaw ! 
 The dishes are lifted, the dinner begun. 
 The dinner is eaten, the dinner is done. 
 But the poor P. G. M. remains hungry and blue 
 He has found in kow-towing far too much to do.
 
 .10 The Maso7nc Dinner. 
 
 " Sub nukkur bar jag-g-a" C — e wratlil'uUy cries 
 With a twist of his lips and the fire in his eyes, 
 " Sub nukkur bar jag-g-a" he screams out again. 
 His face as distorted as if ^twere in pain. 
 They hear liim at last and they all disappear, 
 And the hall from one end to the other is clear. 
 
 The Provincial Grand Master 
 
 Gets up from his chair, 
 II is blood runs the faster 
 From being chief there. 
 
 Before a g-reat Earl 
 
 A g-reat speech he must make. 
 His head's in a whirl. 
 
 So a peg- he must take ; 
 
 Dutch courage at last • 
 
 Gives him strength to proceed. 
 
 And thoug-h he spoke fust 
 ■'Twas a sad speech indeed ! 
 
 But before he spoke his eyes were shockM 
 At a sight which all his senses mocked — 
 Three ignorant brethren, sad to record. 
 Were smoking their hookahs before a lord ! ! ! 
 " And who dares to smoke in a presence so great, 
 " W^ho so presumptuous an Earl thus to treat ?
 
 The Masonic Dinner, 17 
 
 " What ignorant brethren have brought hookahs here ? 
 " They surely have taken too freely of beer ? 
 " Away, away, take those hookahs away, 
 '^ And let them be seen here no more to-day." 
 And turning to Earl D — e he said — ■ 
 *^ Most noble Earl, not on my poor head 
 '^ Let this fault be visited, no, not on me, 
 'Tis the ignorant only who smoke before thee ! " 
 
 a } 
 
 And now for his speech which was truly absurd, 
 Such a long string of humbug was ne'er before heard : — 
 " Most noble, most great, most illustrious man, 
 " I rise in your honour, to speak if I can, 
 " But thou art too lordly, too noble of birth, 
 ^' My poor humble praises can ne'er tell your worth, 
 " INIyself and my brethren, oh, wonderful lord, 
 " Have invited you here to our poor humble board. 
 *^ Oh, how shall we thank the great man that has given 
 " Such joy to our hearts and made this hall a heaven ? 
 '^ What pleasure, what rapture, what exquisite pride, 
 " To be called by you brother and sit by your side ! 
 ^^ Ah ! would my poor tongue, now so feeble, could say 
 " All my own heart has felt on this glorious day. 
 " Of all Indian G. G.'s that I can recall, 
 " Thou, most noble Dalhousie, art head of them all. 
 " The noble Lord Hastings I'll first call to mind, 
 " And the number of friends Mint he left l)ehind ;
 
 18 The Masonic Dinner. 
 
 " Then Bcntinck, the wise, the impartial, the good — 
 
 " The honest Lord Auckland so gentle of moodj 
 
 " I rememher the mild and benignant old Bird, 
 
 " (Of the fate of whose portrait, my Lord, you have 
 heard) 
 
 " The gallant Lord Ellenborongh, fearless and free, 
 
 " I speak well of him — he was patron to me ; 
 
 " Then the brave warrior Hardinge, whose final campaign 
 
 " INlust, alas, for poor India, be fought o^er again ; 
 
 " The orator Pearson, the lynx-eyed and grave, 
 
 " And (in naming another your patience I crave — 
 
 " For in naming him now my long list I have done) 
 
 " The illustrious Maddock who^s now in Ceylon. 
 
 " Ah ! wonderful Earl, before you they all fade, 
 
 " And their greatness and goodness are cast in the 
 shade, 
 
 " "When I think of the eloquent speech which you gave 
 
 " AVhen we all met to honor the galhuit and brave, 
 
 " Oh, I feel, noble Earl, I could now bend the knee, 
 
 " And pour out my praises to thee. Earl, to thee. 
 
 " Now, brethren, the toast : up, up on your legs, 
 
 " A bumper let each brother drain to the dregs. 
 
 " ' Here^s a health to our good noble guest of to-night, 
 
 " '■ The great Earl and brother who sits at my right.'' " 
 
 The speech, alas, was liissed, but the toast was well 
 received, 
 
 Tiiough bitterly the brethren for their Grand Master 
 grieved ;
 
 TJie Maso7iic Dinner. 19 
 
 They felt that in Dalliousie^s eyes the craft was sadly 
 lower'd 
 
 By all the butter and the oil which on him had been 
 showered. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Here the manuscript in verse ceases ; it must therefore be added 
 that Lord Dalhousie's reply was as good as the speech of the Provincial 
 Grand Master was feeble, and was, sentence by sentence, rapturously 
 applauded, and when, pleading weakness of body and cares of State, 
 Lord Dalhousie gave the toast — 
 
 " To Masons' wives and Masons' bairns 
 
 " And all who hang on Masons' arms" — 
 and then retired, the heart of every one there went with Andrew 
 Eamsay, Earl of Dalhousie. 
 
 October, 18 i8.
 
 20 TJic Miisk-rat and Planter. 
 
 THE MUSK-RAT AND PLANTER. 
 
 A tale of facts which happened in Bengal in 1850, and formed a 
 practical exposition of Act XVIII of that year. 
 
 A Musk-rat once^ of great renown. 
 Ruled o^er a little country town. 
 His want of sense, liis pride of place. 
 Shewed him the dullest of his race. 
 So fond of rambling" out at night. 
 He knew not what was wrong or right. 
 In one small way he did excel — 
 He played the tom-tom very well ; 
 And neighbours have been heard to say. 
 As soon as day to night gave way. 
 He through the city would parade 
 And treat them to a serenade. 
 
 Music, by all it is confessed, 
 Hath charms to soothe the savage breast : 
 And when that music, soft and clear. 
 Comes stealing on the listening ear ; 
 When on some lovely summer night 
 The moon above is shining- brijrht
 
 The Mnsk-rat and Planter. 21 
 
 And rivals daylight with her glare. 
 When not a sound disturbs the air_, 
 And when the mind and soul are given 
 To thoughts that only breathe of heavens- 
 Then when m cadence soft and low 
 Some melody of long ago 
 Comes gently whispering on the ear, — 
 Oh ! music^s strains are then most dear. 
 
 But when in some secluded spot 
 Where nights as well as days are hot. 
 Some silly fool, to whom kind heaven 
 An ear for music has not given, 
 Who fancies that the noisy beat 
 Of common tom-tom must be sweet. 
 And promenades the streets at night 
 And bangs away with all his might. 
 When weary wretches, roused from sleep. 
 Launch at him curses loud and deep. 
 For breaking up their quiet rest. 
 And when that noisy dreadful pest 
 To worry them bangs more and more, — 
 Then music is an awful bore. 
 
 And thus it chanced not long ago. 
 This INIusk-rat would tom-tomminjr ffo : 
 And one dark night, tom-tom in hand, 
 He led his bajah-wallah band —
 
 l-Z The Musk-rat and Planter. 
 
 A dirty, filthy, screaming crew — 
 "Who every step more noisy grew. 
 To where a neighbouring- Planter dwelt, 
 For whom Musk-rat no likino" felt. 
 With shouts and cries, tom-tom in hand, 
 He led his wild unruly band 
 To where the Planter^s dwelling stood, 
 And thus addressed his noisy brood : 
 *^My friends, there dwells a Planter liere 
 " Who ever greets me with a sneer, 
 " AVho being from my rule exempt 
 " Doth ever treat me with contempt ; 
 " And now (he added, with a frown) 
 *^ This Planter's pride I will take down ; 
 " Come batter down his compound gate, 
 " And then his house illuminate/'' 
 He said : and soon, the work begun. 
 The gate was forced, the house was won. 
 And mid a wild and deafening diu 
 The bajah-wallahs all rushed in. 
 Loud yelled the bajah-wallahs then. 
 Bang, bang, the tom-toms went again. 
 And in that dread discordant sound 
 The Planter's feeble voice was drowned ; 
 And bang went crackers, squibs, in scores. 
 Shot through the windows and the doors.
 
 The Musk-rat and Planter. 23 
 
 And Catherine wheels went spinning- round, 
 
 And Roman candles strewed the ground ; 
 
 Tables and chairs were tossed about — 
 
 The lower floor turned inside out : 
 
 And midst the din the Planter^s wife 
 
 Was scon in terror of her life ; 
 
 She and her daughters, all undressed, 
 
 Into the midst had wildly pressed, 
 
 But finding- shrieks and tears were vain, 
 
 They ran up to their rooms again. 
 
 The Planter through the back-gate made 
 
 His own escape to call for aid. 
 
 Then Musk-rat fled, for well he knew 
 
 He could not long- restrain his crew. 
 
 And with one farewell rattling- bang-, 
 
 And with a yell whose echoes rang 
 
 Far o^er the plain he marcliM away. 
 
 Making his bajah-wallahs play 
 
 The air that he had learnt at home — 
 
 " See me, the conquering hero, come. ^' 
 
 The Planter with some friends return'd 
 
 Who all for vengeance fiercely burn\l ; 
 
 But -'twas too late — Musk-rat had fled, 
 
 And by this time was safe in bed. 
 
 Then loud and long the Planter swore 
 
 Such pranks Musk-rat should play no more;
 
 That he himself the following day 
 Would to a Justice make his way. 
 And to his Worship g-et access^ 
 Explain his wrongs and beg redress : 
 And thus resolved, with auger fired, 
 The Planter to his bed retired. 
 
 The morning came, the Planter rose. 
 His ire not softenM by repose ; 
 And, all impatient of delay. 
 He to the Town Court took his way, 
 Whei'e, ' axe^ in hand and full of thought. 
 An ancient Counsellor held his Court, 
 And who, for wisdom, deep, profound, 
 Through all the country was renowned ; 
 And who, so say they at that place. 
 Before deciding on a case. 
 And to avoid unjust attacks. 
 Would frecpiently consult his ^axe,^ 
 Which oftentimes a handle gave 
 The Counsellor's good name to save. 
 This axe was very sharp and bright 
 Although it was not always right. 
 And what was much more to its praise, 
 It could, when wanted, cut both wa}'s. 
 The Covirt was cleared, the Planter heard, 
 He told the Counsellor word for word
 
 Of what took place the night before. 
 
 And how he soon expected more 
 
 Of Musk-rat's tyranny, unless 
 
 The Court would give him prompt redress. 
 
 The Counsellor heard the story through 
 
 And gave it all attention due ; 
 
 Then ordered that Musk-rat be brought 
 
 "Without delay into the Court. 
 
 His servants scourM the country round, 
 
 Aud in a trice Musk-rat was found 
 
 And brought into the Court with speed 
 
 There in his own defence to plead. 
 
 The Counsellor spoke — ^' Pray what defence 
 Have you for all this violence ?" 
 The Musk-rat answer'd with a sneer, 
 " Act Eigliteen of the present year.'''' 
 The Planter said " You must be cracked 
 " To take defence upon an Act ; 
 " Into a private house to take 
 " A mob of madmen and to break 
 " The whole house down. Oh, Musk-rat, fie, 
 " Such deeds no Act will justify." 
 Musk-rat then boldly spoke again 
 " Sir Counsellor, 'tis very plain 
 " I and the Planter can't agree, 
 " You must decide 'twixt him and me ; 
 
 n
 
 26 The Musk-rat and Planter. 
 
 " I for ray part of course abide 
 
 " By what your bright axe^ may decide, 
 
 " For though you may my statements doubt, 
 
 " I acted in good faith throughout/^ 
 
 The Counsellor was nothing loth 
 
 And thus it was agreed by both. 
 
 So turning to his axe he said : 
 
 " Come, bring your judgment to our aid, 
 
 " You've heard the Planter^s story through, 
 
 " And Musk-rat can^t deny 'tis true, 
 
 '' Now, on this subject, what say you V 
 
 The axe upon its handle rose 
 
 And turning on the angry foes. 
 
 He to them all in turns displayed 
 
 Each side of his bright shining blade, 
 
 When, lo, on each side did appear 
 
 In g-litteringr letters brigrht and clear 
 
 The following judgment which revealed 
 
 How dreadfully that axe was steeFd 
 
 Against the Planter's humble prayer 
 
 That justice might be shewn him there. 
 
 And these the words. " The case is clear, 
 
 " Redress the Planter can't have here ; 
 
 * Axe, a bundle or volume of Acts.
 
 " For though his case is very strong-, 
 
 " And Musk-rat did him grievous wrong, 
 
 " Yet have they both appeaPd to me, 
 
 " And I by law must guided be ; 
 
 " Act eighteen -hundred-ufty rules 
 
 " That to protect judicial fools 
 
 " And give them every chance to escape 
 
 " When they may get into a scrape, 
 
 " If they will swear, though false no doubt, 
 
 " They acted in good faith throughout, 
 
 " They shall from punishment be free 
 
 " And Against complaints protected be. 
 
 " This Musk-rat swears ; and I am bound 
 
 " The law in this case to expound, 
 
 " Thus, tyranny is backed by might, 
 
 " The farmer's wrong. Musk-rat is right/' 
 
 Then spoke the Counsellor to the two, 
 " The judgment has been read by you, 
 " Now go, I've nothing more to say, 
 " I've had enough to do to-day." 
 Then went they forth, but at the door 
 The Planter many a curse did pour 
 Upon Musk-rat's devoted head 
 And with an oath of vengeance said : 
 " May wither'd hopes my future blast, 
 " If I don't pay you off at last ;
 
 '^ "What shall prevent my vengeance due 
 " From bringing- misery oti you ?" 
 The Musk-rat answer^ with a sneer, 
 "Act 18 of llie present year '' 
 
 Moral. 
 
 Now Planters all, both great and small. 
 
 Attend unto my moral ; 
 If near Civilians you do live, 
 
 Don^t with them pick a quarrel. 
 
 However cautious you may be. 
 
 However good and thrifty, 
 You may have reason soon to curse 
 
 The Act 18 of fifty; 
 
 But if you^re forced into a row 
 
 And cannot do without it. 
 Take my advice and fight it out, 
 
 Don^t go to law about it. 
 
 And when a man into your house 
 
 "Will vi et armis enter 
 And set the place on fire, vvhy, then 
 
 Pitch him into the centre.
 
 So;ior ^f ]7i Blase. 29 
 
 THE SONG OF EL BLASE. 
 
 The sun has sunk below the sea, the breeze has died away. 
 
 The restless waves are bright beneath with phosphores- 
 cent ray, 
 
 And scarce a sound disturbs the air except the distant 
 roar 
 
 Of the breakers as they dash upon the reefs along- the 
 shore. 
 
 And as I tread the silent deck I think of former years, 
 And memory now recalls to me my youthful hopes and 
 
 fears ; 
 I think, if all my later joys and griefs could come again. 
 How little those would pleasure me, how sadly these 
 
 would pain. 
 
 In early life, when quite a boy, I left the dear old home 
 "Where never since has fate allowed my longing steps 
 
 to roam ; 
 Where the only thoughts that troubled me were of the 
 
 happy past, 
 I did not think the future could with clouds be overcast.
 
 30 Song of El Blase. 
 
 Ah me ! and why does memory bring that long- ago 
 
 to me. 
 It only tells me what I was and what I ne'er can be ; 
 My friends are gone, my hopes are fled, alas ! I only feel 
 The man what would get on in life must have a heart 
 
 of steel. 
 
 I think how few the real friends I now and then have seen, 
 Since on the rough world's thorny paths a traveller 
 
 I've been. 
 And where are those few friends I had ? Some gone 
 
 away, some dead, 
 And none remain to comfort now and cheer me in 
 
 their stead. 
 
 I think on all the fairy forms on which I've loved to gaze, 
 Whose smiles I often long'd for through many weary 
 
 days ; 
 I see them now as then I should before they won my love. 
 The silly, trifling, jilting things that women ever prove. 
 
 And pondering thus, what wonder then my heart should 
 
 seem so cold. 
 And be no more the trusty heart it used to be of old ? 
 Tho' young, I feel my nature changed, the world has 
 
 closed above 
 The little stock that nature had of goodness, truth, and 
 
 love.
 
 Song of El Blase. 31 
 
 Oh ! would I ne'er could think upon those early happy- 
 years 
 
 Before my boyhood's fleeting griefs gave way to real 
 tears ; 
 
 They only serve with greater force the triith to call to 
 mindj 
 
 " We leave, in leaving childhood's shores, life's fairy land 
 behind."
 
 32 The Chee-Chce Bali 
 
 THE CHEE-CHEE BALL. 
 
 The Chee-Chees lick! high festival in old Doming-o's Hall, 
 
 And I was there, tho'' I was not invited to the ball; 
 
 But they received me kindly, all owing-, as I trust. 
 
 To my appearance proving me one of the "upper 
 
 crust/' 
 
 And merrily I passed the time, although 'twas somewhat 
 
 slow — 
 
 I danced like mad each polka, with lots of heel and toe : 
 
 For Chee-Chees think that polkas are very like Scotch 
 
 reels, 
 
 And that to dance them properly you must kick up 3'our 
 
 heels. 
 
 And there was one, a petite hello, a inodest little girl. 
 
 Her hair was twisted down her cheeks in many a spiral 
 
 curl ; 
 
 Her teeth were polish'd ivoiy, her e^'es were very bright, 
 
 Ajid the little thing look'd blacker from being dress'd 
 
 in w 
 
 ,'hite.
 
 And ever as I saw this girl I mark'd a little man 
 Whom loving-ly she ogled behind her prettty fan : 
 They always danced together, or, as far as I could see, 
 AVhen they couldn't dance together they stood up 
 vis-a-vis. 
 
 ■'Twas clear they were affianced, that very happy pair. 
 They seemM to think themselves to be the only couple 
 
 there ; 
 And so they whiled away the time till dinner was 
 
 announced — 
 Oh ! how quickly at that word all through the doorway 
 
 bounced. 
 
 Alas ! for some poor hungry ones the supper-room was 
 
 small, 
 And the company was numerous, it couldn't hold them all; 
 So while the few and lucky ones were eating stews and 
 
 grills. 
 The others kept their hunger ck)wn with polkas and 
 
 quadrilles. 
 
 Now while the supper disappeared, I sought for fresher air. 
 My nose 'mid Kentish hop-grounds rear'd is not the 
 
 nose to bear. 
 The scent of oil of cocoanut with that of bad perfume. 
 And the odour of hot dishes in a densely crowded room. 
 
 *-
 
 And wliile I stvoll'tl alone outside I started at the sound 
 Of whispering voices near me — I turn'd and gazed 
 
 around ; 
 Yes, there they were, that happy pair, their steps they 
 
 slowly traced. 
 Her arm was on his shoulder, and his was round her waist ; 
 
 And, wandering by thus lovingly, their words ■ fell on 
 
 my ear, — 
 For he had slightly raised his voice, not thinking I was 
 
 near. 
 And the veiy moon looked clearer, and brighter shone 
 
 each star, — 
 As the little man imploringly said " Betsy, bolo hah V 
 
 T turn'd and quickly left the spot, I did not like to stay. 
 To be, as I must else have been, iu those two lovers^ way ; 
 (To spoil such sport has ever been from my intention far) 
 And as I walked away I heard her gently murmur 
 " Hah/' 
 
 The dance was o'er ; before I left, I found myself once more 
 Close to that happy Chee-Chee pair outside Domingo's 
 
 door ; 
 What pass'd between them I can't say, but those who 
 
 wish to know. 
 May judge from what I heard, which was " Our ekto 
 
 kissee do."
 
 The BoxzvallaJi. 35 
 
 THE BOXW ALLAH, 
 
 OR 
 
 THE EASTERN KNIGHT OF TOGGENBURG. 
 
 '^ Mem Saheb, a Box wall all's love 
 
 Gives my tbing-s to thee, 
 Though their value's far above 
 
 What thou givest to me. 
 Kindly couldst thou treat me now 
 
 To one little kiss. 
 Such as Hindoo g-irls allow — 
 
 Bapree ! what is this ? '' 
 
 Madly jumped she from her chair, 
 
 To her feet she sprung, 
 Box'd his ears upon the stair, 
 
 Box'd them till they wrung-. 
 " Go you wretch, you nasty soor/' 
 
 And he bolted straight 
 Down the staircase, through the door. 
 
 Through the compound gate.
 
 36 The Boxivallah. 
 
 IHq-Ii your prices, good your tLing-s, 
 
 Hero of tlie box, 
 But thy heart her treatment wrings, 
 
 As thine ears her knocks. 
 Rivaller of Bodelio, 
 
 Boudet and Gervain, 
 How thy heart is heavy, oh, 
 
 How thine ears do pain. 
 
 Heavy is the poor mau^s box 
 
 Which his cooly bears. 
 Full of babies' things and frocks 
 
 Such as childhood wears. 
 Ee-silk, ee-satin, u-dek-lone, 
 
 Ebery ting he got, 
 But his happiness is gone, 
 
 Weary is his lot. 
 
 Back to the bazaar he went. 
 
 There he shut up shop. 
 To his home his steps he bent, 
 
 For he could not stop 
 In the place where men had seen 
 
 Him so sadly used, 
 111 the place where he had been 
 
 Beaten and abused.
 
 The Boxwallah. 37 
 
 lu his native village where 
 
 Waves a Cocoanut, 
 In the drainy, smoky air 
 
 O'er a dirty hut^ 
 Dwells the poor man for a while 
 
 Gorging- maunds of rice, 
 Full of rage and full of bile 
 
 Spending all his piee. 
 
 Then his savings nearly gone 
 
 Once more home he left, 
 Tired of living all alone 
 
 And of hope bereft ; 
 Longing once again to he 
 
 Where his eyes can trace, 
 Where they now and then may see, 
 
 That dear form and face. 
 
 So one evening very late, 
 
 Footsore, wearj^, lame, 
 To the lady^s well known gate 
 
 Once again he came, 
 And the Duvwan at the door 
 
 On him iiercc did look. 
 Not the same man who before 
 
 Large dustoorie took.
 
 :58 TJic BoxwallaJt. 
 
 Then he put a bright rupee 
 
 In the Durwan^s palm, 
 Well he knew that coin would be 
 
 Like Columbian balm. 
 Saying-, " Where's that lady who 
 
 Here last year did dwell, 
 A Houri with such eyes as you 
 
 See in a Gazelle?'' 
 
 Low the Durwan then replied, 
 
 " She whom now you seek 
 " Lately has become a bride, 
 
 " Married just a week, 
 " And she's now at Alipore 
 
 " Fairest of the fair, 
 " With the same dark eyes of yore 
 
 " And the same black hair." 
 
 Soon he found her dwelling-place, 
 
 Soon he saw her there, 
 And he gazed upon her face 
 
 With a longing stare ; 
 And he took a little hut 
 
 Opposite her gate, 
 Cover'd o'er with dust and soot 
 
 In a wretched state. 
 
 \
 
 TJic Boxzvallah. 39 
 
 There he chewM whole seers of pawn 
 
 While his beard he stroked. 
 And all day, a wretch forlorn. 
 
 Hubble-bubble smoked. 
 When, a passing* g-limpse allow'd. 
 
 She rode happy by. 
 To the ground his head he bow\l 
 
 Piping of his eye. 
 
 When the weary day was o^er 
 
 At the hour of five. 
 Then he watch^l her as before 
 
 Going" for a drive. 
 Every day — a glimpse allowM, 
 
 She drove happy by. 
 To the ground his head he bow'd 
 
 Piping of his eye. 
 
 Days and months had gone, and still 
 
 Wateh\l he on his post. 
 Till one evening taken ill 
 
 He gave up the ghost. 
 Morning found the body there 
 
 Lying on its side, 
 And a Jury did declare 
 
 'Twas a madman died. 
 
 !(?
 
 HELEN MACKAY^S LAST APPEAL. 
 
 In December 1851, John Mackay, widower, and Elizabeth Mackay, 
 his sister, were tried a nd found guilty in the Supreme Court at Cal- 
 cutta for beating to death Helen, a little girl a few years old, a child 
 of John Mackay by his deceased wife. The story was one of the mos); 
 liorrible in the annals of crime. Speaking of the poor child's body 
 after dcatl), the witnesses all testified that "it was one raw soi'e." 
 Both the Mackays were sentenced to transportation for life. 
 
 Mercyj mercy, spare the lash, oh, strike me not again, 
 There^s a fear upon my heart, aunt, which is keener than 
 
 the pain ; 
 A shadow steals before my eyes, a weight subdues my 
 
 breath, 
 A faintness is come over me ; oh^ aunt, can this be 
 
 death ? 
 
 Is this the death for which I've pray'd from eve till 
 
 morning's light. 
 As bruised and bleeding I have lain, through many a 
 
 weary night, 
 A death which had no fear for me but ever in ray breast 
 Was heralded b}' thoughts of hope and dreams of future 
 
 rest?
 
 Helen Mackafs Last Appeal. 41 
 
 Which told me of that happy land where all earth's 
 pangs are o'er, 
 
 And where the woes which press me here will trouble 
 me no more, 
 
 Where little cliildren are beloved, where pains and sor- 
 rows cease, 
 
 W^here the wicked cease from troubling- and the weary 
 are at peace. 
 
 See, cruel aunt, my mother smiles and beckons me 
 
 above. 
 And calls me from this world of woe to God's eternal 
 
 love; 
 Then spare me, spare me future pangs, as you would be 
 
 forgiven. 
 Send me not bleeding from your lash to testify in 
 
 Heaven. 
 
 I've borne full long my painful lot, 'tis over, and 
 
 I go. 
 I sink beneath the agony of want, and taunt, and blow, 
 
 My spirit crush'd, my body gash'd and beaten to the 
 
 tomb. 
 As life has had no light for me, so death presents no 
 
 gloom.
 
 42 Helen Mack ays Last Appeal. 
 
 One other word and I have done; I know my time is 
 
 near, 
 The hand of death is on me, the hand that seems so 
 
 dear, 
 J]ut ere my worn-out spirit flies to everlasting- rest. 
 Oh, let my little sister lay her head upon my breast ! 
 
 And by the sufferings I have known, the agonies I've 
 
 borne. 
 The broken heart, the hunger, thirst, the flesh so bruised 
 
 and torn, 
 Oh spare my little sister, oh let my darling live, 
 And freely as I pardon you, may God your sins forgive. 
 
 'Tis over, sister, closer, press me closer to your heart. 
 Weep not, for it is mercy that now forces us apart. 
 Now kiss me, Mary darling-, another, now good bye, 
 God calls me to our mother in her home beyond the sky.
 
 Translation. 43 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 Le Chemin du Paradis. 
 
 a 
 
 At a hospice' gate outside, 
 
 A child to see her mother press'd, 
 " Go/' the cruel porter cried, 
 
 " And cease your vain request." 
 " She's there and her I fain would see/ 
 
 The child replied, and knoek'd once more. 
 
 When one of those she did implore, 
 Said, seeing- her tears flow piteously, 
 
 " Poor orphan child 
 
 " Be reconciled, 
 " Thy mother from this world of vice 
 " Has ta'en the road to Paradise." 
 
 She enquires of them the way, 
 
 Kindly answers every one, 
 Loniif the journey is they say, 
 
 Man)^ perils to be run.
 
 44 Trmislatioii. 
 
 Hope, however, leads her ever 
 To her pious journey^s end, 
 Faith doth eourag-e to her lend. 
 
 Charity forsakes her never, 
 Soon will she 
 Her mother see. 
 
 For she now believes she flies 
 
 On the road to Paradise. 
 
 FamishM, faint, her strength forsakes her 
 
 One nig-lit in a desert drear, 
 By the hand a shepherd takes her, 
 
 Leads her to a convent near ; 
 To her help each sister flies. 
 
 All too late her strength is blighted. 
 
 Death, which parted, reunited 
 Child and mother in the skies, 
 
 God calFd her to 
 
 Her mother true. 
 And that poor child no longer sighs 
 For her home in Paradise.
 
 Reply to ''Fare thee zvell and if for ever'' 45 
 
 KEPLY TO "FARE THEE WELL AND IF 
 FOR EVER/^ 
 
 Fare thee well and if for ever. 
 
 Then for ever let it be ; 
 For again, false Byron, never 
 
 Canst thou be beloved by me. 
 
 If thy breast were bared before me. 
 What a cruel heart "'twould shew ; 
 
 False to her who did adore thee — 
 Cold as Russians wastes of snow. 
 
 'Twas not I who rent asunder 
 
 Ties which should have lived till death. 
 Thou hast been a wide world's wonder 
 
 For thy scorn of love and faith. 
 
 Vain are now thy magic verses, 
 None to pity can they move ; 
 
 Better far to send me curses 
 Than the mockery of love.
 
 4G Reply to '^ Fare thee well and if for ever'' 
 
 Though the world to soothe endeavour, 
 Thoug-h it sorrow for my pain, 
 
 Can it Byron, can it ever 
 
 Make thy false heart true again ? 
 
 No, a heart once dead to feeling- 
 True again can never prove. 
 
 And the wound that knows no healing 
 Is a woman's trampled love. 
 
 Oh ! to banish recollection 
 
 Of that early love of mine, 
 TMien my young heart's deep affection 
 
 Thought it met the same in thine. 
 
 When in tones of gentle kindness 
 
 That false tongue love's accents pour'd ; 
 
 Could I think my love was blindness ? 
 Could I doubt I was adored ? 
 
 Still there is a tie that binds me 
 To respect thy once loved name. 
 
 Though each passing morrow finds thee 
 Deeper still in guilt and shame.
 
 Reply to ^^ Fare thee well and if for ever'' 4-7 
 
 Yes — our little infant smiling 
 As slie climbs upon my knee, 
 
 Lisping", with her voice beguiling. 
 Teaches me to think of thee. 
 
 "When, as twilight's shadows gather, 
 She repeats her ev'ning prayer. 
 
 Then she prays for thee, her father, 
 Tho' she sees no father there. 
 
 Thus it is, though love has vanished 
 From this torn and bleeding heart. 
 
 That the feeling is not banished 
 That thou still my husband art. 
 
 Fare thee well, and, if for ever 
 In this world of grief and pain, 
 
 I will hope that those who sever 
 Here will meet elsewhere again.
 
 ACROSTIC. 
 
 To a young lady after the death of the gentleman she was engaged to. 
 
 Happy may your future be 
 
 After all your sorrow^ 
 Recollect, no woes can e'er 
 
 Rob us of a morrow. 
 In the future bury then 
 
 Every grief that's past, 
 Time will aid the careworn heart 
 
 To be glad at last. 
 
 
 Heaven its aid will also send 
 
 Unto all bereaved, 
 Never yet was any one 
 
 Trusting there deceived : 
 Every one may gather there 
 
 Resignation in despair.
 
 The Union Bank SJiarcJioldcr and the Rook. 49 
 
 THE UNION BANK SHAEEHOLDER 
 AND THE HOOK. 
 
 Apres Poe. 
 
 Applicable to many poor Shareholders now. 
 
 Once upon a miclnig'lit dreary as I pondered very leery 
 
 Over piles of old accounts and with sweat in every 
 pore — 
 
 For the heat it was quite shocking-^ — I heard a sudden 
 knocking. 
 
 As if somebody was mocking me outside my cham- 
 ber door. 
 
 """Tis some larky friend/^ I mutter'd, '^mocking me out- 
 side my door— 
 
 " Only this and nothing more.'^ 
 
 Ahj distinctly I remember, -'twas in blazing hot Sep- 
 tember, 
 
 And from every streaming member ran the sweat upon 
 the floor. 
 
 For I fear'd I^d have to borrow some tin upon the mor- 
 row. 
 
 And debtors to their sorrow find borrowinir a bore. 
 
 And most men will acknowledge that His an awful bore 
 
 To borrow ever more. 
 
 G
 
 )') TIic Union Bank SJtarcJtoldcr and tlic Rook. 
 
 And my tlirobLiug' heart's sug-gestions invented many 
 
 q\;cstions 
 As to who at such a time could ])e knocking at my door. 
 And I thoufj^-lit some friend, retreating from some late 
 
 convivial meeting'. 
 Had come, with curious greeting, a Manilla to implore — 
 For many are the friends that come Manillas to implore 
 
 From my much respected store. 
 
 So I got up, softly creeping, and through the doorway 
 peeping 
 
 I saw nothing there hut darkness around me and before ; 
 
 And the silence was unbroken, and not a word or token 
 
 Shewed me that a friend had come a Manilla to im- 
 plore : 
 
 And no friend having come a Manilla to implore, 
 
 I wonder'd all the more. 
 
 I came back very curious, at the same time very 
 
 furious, 
 AVhen airain I heard the knocking somewhat louder 
 
 than before ; 
 Then said I with much ill-will, " That kuocking's at the 
 
 jill-mill, 
 " And if possible I still will the mystery explore — 
 " I'll open out the jill-mill and this mystery explore, 
 
 " After that I'll try no more.'''
 
 open then the jill-mill throwing-, T was not h)n<y in 
 
 knowing* 
 What it was that had hcen knocking' as I thoug-ht ont- 
 
 siJe my door^ 
 And I tear I somewliat shook as a h\(^ and jet-black 
 
 rook, 
 With a clieeky mien and look, hopp\l and settled on 
 
 the floor, 
 Then Hew and pcvch\l himself on a bust above my door — 
 
 On a bust of Thomas Moore. 
 
 Then he lookM down, as if smiling", on the vouchers IM 
 been filing-, 
 
 And, my temper sadly riling-, croak'd as if his throat 
 was sore ; 
 
 Then my frame with anger shook, and I hurl'd at him 
 a book. 
 
 But I miss\l that horrid rook sitting there above my 
 door ; 
 
 And I ask'd him for his name, and why he stack out- 
 side my door. 
 
 And the rook croak\l, " Nothing more." 
 
 Tlien I stared almost insanely to hear that rook 
 
 ungainly 
 Address me in plain English from that bust of Thomas 
 
 Moore ;
 
 And on the fact I pondor'J, and frc(|nently I wonderM, 
 If ray hearing- had not bhnider'd in those two words 
 
 " Nothing" more" — 
 For I never heard that any bird could croak so plain 
 
 hefore 
 
 As that rook did " Nothing- more/' 
 
 And there he sat so knowing, with his eyes so hrighl 
 
 and glowing-, 
 Looking- sideways down at me as I gazed ujjon tlio floor, 
 That I thought not of retiring', hut his knowing look 
 
 admiring, 
 or myself I kept enquiring if the devil ever bore. 
 When he came upon the earth to l)e a horrid bore, 
 
 A black rook's shape before. 
 
 Thus 1 stood engaged in guessing, till 'twas time to be 
 
 undressing. 
 And my eyes from staring at the l)ird were getting- 
 
 very sore, 
 AVhen a In-ight thought on me shining in the midst of 
 
 my divining. 
 And all my wits combining, I eyed the black brute o'er, 
 And I ask'd him when he meant to leave the bust 
 
 above my door, 
 
 And he croak'd, '' Oh, never more."
 
 TJic Union Bank SharcJioIdcr and tJic Rook. 53 
 
 Then I put another query and I bowM polite and leerj' 
 To tbat Mack rook sittins: there on the l)ust of Thomas 
 
 Moore — 
 "Now^ no ofTence is meant thee, hut has the devil sent 
 
 thee? 
 " lias he like a prophet sent thee to tell me what's in 
 
 store, 
 "To tell me of my future, if for me there's luck in 
 
 store ?'^ 
 
 Croak'd he, " That and nothing more/' 
 
 "Prophet,'' said I, "then be civil if you are a real 
 
 devil, 
 " I'd like to have an answer to a question or two more ; 
 " There is scrip upon my table, you may see 1 )y many 
 
 a label, 
 " Of that Joint Stock Bank unstable built by Larpent 
 
 and Tag-ore : 
 " ]]ut ril say nothing- bad against poor Dwarkanauth 
 
 Ta.ii'ore — 
 
 " He is ""one for evermore. 
 
 o 
 
 o^ 
 
 "Prophet," said I, "bird, or devil, I've been treated very 
 
 evil, 
 "I've invested in that Bank's shares a very heavy score,
 
 .") !• Tlic Union Bank SJiarclioldcr and tJic Rook. 
 
 ''But I never thoiii^lit when bnying" how soon I should 
 be sighing' 
 
 "For my tin that then was flying; tell me truly, I im- 
 plore — • 
 
 "Tell me shall I get my tin hack — tell mo truly, I im- 
 plore/' 
 
 And he croakM, "Never more/' 
 
 Then I answer'd, "Oh! the devil, you only seem to revel 
 " In croaking all that's bad from that bust above my dcor, 
 " But please me still by staying, and still more so by sa}-- 
 
 ing 
 " That shareholders who've been paying need- not pay any 
 
 more." 
 But that rook with eyes so knowing, and twinkling more 
 
 and more, 
 
 Croak'cl loudly, "Plenty more." 
 
 Then I cried, with anger smarting, " You'd better be de- 
 parting, 
 
 "For I will not have you croaking your falsehoods o'er 
 and o'er; 
 
 "Leave not a single token of the words that you have 
 spoken 
 
 "Of the great Bank that was broken when it owed at 
 least a crore ;
 
 TJic Union Bank Shareholder and the Rook. 55 
 
 (( 
 
 Take your shadow from my lloor, and leave that bust 
 above my door." 
 
 And he croakM^ " No, never more." 
 
 And still he sits so knowing-, and has never thought of 
 
 going" 
 
 From the bust that he thus perched upon above my 
 chamber door, 
 
 And his eyes are always seeming to be with plea- 
 sure beaming. 
 
 As I often sit here dreaming- of my tin in days of yore. 
 
 Ere other rooks had guU'd me in the dodging days of 
 
 yore. 
 
 As I^ll be c-uUed — oh ! never more.
 
 NON CON FUND AR IN ^ETEHNUM. 
 
 The prayer of tne Czar Nicholas after the Massacre of Sinopc. 
 
 Let all nations band togetlier. 
 
 Let Great Britain lead the fig'lit^ 
 Let them all their forces gather, 
 
 I will shew them miglit is right. 
 With my millions, serf and slave, I 
 
 To their vessels back will turn ^em_, 
 In te, Domine, speravi — 
 
 Non confundar in sternum ! 
 
 Hark ! the war-dogs howling round mc— 
 
 13riton, Austrian, Frank, and Turk — • 
 They'll regret that e'er they found mo 
 
 Cause to do more dirty work. 
 If they still my power will brave, I 
 
 AVith my red-hot shot will burn 'em, 
 In te, Domine, speravi — 
 
 Non confundar in a.'ternum !
 
 Have I ever proved a liar ? 
 
 Landmarks did I ever break ? 
 Did I ever once conspire 
 
 Turkish provinces to take? 
 No — then let them roar and rave, I 
 
 Place my trust in Thee and spurn 'em. 
 In te, DominC; speravi — 
 
 Non confundar in seternum ! 
 
 Did I put my troops in motion 
 
 Where my troops ought not to g-o. 
 Till their fleets had scour'd my ocean 
 
 In defence of Russians foe ? 
 Let all Russia find a grave, I 
 
 Still will fight and still will spurn 'em. 
 In te, Domine, speravi — 
 
 Non confundar in seternum. 
 
 Do not all my Christians know me 
 
 As their great and glorious lord ? 
 Out of all my millions shew me 
 
 One by whom I'm not adored ? 
 Six foot three in height and brave, I 
 
 Laugh all foes to scorn and spurn 'em. 
 In te, Domine, speravi — 
 
 Non confundar in aeternum. 
 
 H
 
 5S Non confundar in jEterJinm. 
 
 Can my conscience eVr reprove me ? 
 
 Am not I the Russian Czar ? 
 Should not hordes of those who love me 
 
 Die for me in useless war ? 
 Of them all obedience crave \, 
 
 . Even in thing's that don't concern 'em ; 
 In te, Domine, speravi — 
 
 Non confundar in ttternum. 
 
 Now let Sinope be witness 
 
 Of the power of shot and shell, 
 Let that slaughter prove my fitness 
 
 For the hottest place in Hell. 
 Despot, tyrant, bully, knave, I 
 
 In thy name spit at and spurn 'em. 
 In te, Domine, speravi — 
 
 Non confundar in a?ternum. 
 
 1854.
 
 TJie A. D. C. — Best Man and Chicf-HTourner. 59 
 
 THE A. D. C. 
 
 BEST MAN AND CHIEF-MOURNER. 
 
 " Last season tlie female European attendant of a certain noble lady, 
 but just out from England, became the wife of a confidential clerk in a 
 Government Office bere ; she was much respected by her mistress, 
 who was herself in the Church the day she was married, and generously 
 presented her with handsome presents ; at the request of her mistress, 
 she was honored by being given away by the principal A. D. C 
 This year an equal degree of kindly feeling had been manifested towards 
 the lady's maid ; in less than ten months she became a bride, a mother 
 and a corpse. The A. D. C. again attended to do hohor, but this time 
 it was at the funeral." — Englishman's letter from Simla, 8lh July. 
 
 Apres Hemans. 
 
 In the snowy Himalayas 
 
 Voices were liearJ in prayer, 
 'Twas a bappy marriag-e rite. 
 And every eye was bright, 
 And an A. D. C. was there ! 
 
 For a '^ noble Lady^s" maid, 
 Far from her native land. 
 
 To a " confidential clerk" 
 Was g'iving" heart and hand.
 
 60 The A. D. C.—Best Man ami Chief-Mourner. 
 
 And the ' noble lady' vow'd 
 That the rite should honor'd be 
 
 By the presence of herself 
 And a lordly A. D. C. ! ! 
 
 In the snowy Himalayas 
 
 Voices were raised in prayer. 
 And •'twas a glorious sight. 
 That happy marriage rite. 
 
 For an A. D. C. was there ! ! 
 
 But* a year had not passM o'er 
 The head of that young bride. 
 
 Ere she became a mother, 
 
 Then sickened, pined, and died. 
 
 The ' noble lady' grieved for 
 Her sad untimely end. 
 
 And to the lowly burial 
 Her A. D. C. did send ! ! 
 
 In the snowy Himalayas 
 
 Voices were heard in prayer, 
 'Twas a solemn funeral rite. 
 But a most imposing sight. 
 For an A. D. C. was there ! !
 
 The A. D. C. — Best Man and Chief -Mourner. 61 
 
 Then let lier calmly rest 
 
 Where the snow-clad pine-trees wave, 
 For a lordly A. D. C. 
 
 Attended at her g-rave ! 
 
 When A. D. Cs. thus follow 
 
 The lowly to their rest. 
 Oh ! ^twould be wickedness to doubt 
 
 The burial must be blessed. 
 
 Then, husband, do not mourn her. 
 That young and loving wife, 
 
 For surely she was honor'd 
 In death as when in life. 
 
 In the snowy Himalayas 
 
 Voices were heard in prayer, 
 ^Twas a solemn funeral rite. 
 But a most imposing- sight. 
 For an A. D. C. was there ! !
 
 62 The Bengalee ''Boy Jonesr 
 
 THE BENGALEE " BOY JONES." 
 
 Or the story of the Coolie who would see Lord Dalhousie asleep 
 in bed. 
 
 Ladles — come and read the story 
 
 Of the coolie^ brave and bold, 
 Who for neither g-ain nor glory 
 
 StormM the great Dalhousie^s hold ;*" 
 Not for murder did he do it — 
 
 Robbery his soul abhorred — 
 His intention — would you know it — ■ 
 
 Was to see a sleeping lord ! 
 
 Surely ^twas a curious notion 
 
 For the man to entertain ! 
 In a state of sad commotion 
 
 Must have been the coolie's brain. 
 Were the lord a pretty lady, 
 
 Men might fairly risk the chance 
 Of a fine from wrathful Cadi* 
 
 For one single happy glance. 
 
 * Wrathful Caili, i. c, Sir Solomon Sli!y, or Macleod Wvllie.
 
 The Bengalee ''Boy Jones" 
 
 63 
 
 Half tlie hours of nig-ht were number'd^ 
 
 Shone the brig-ht raoon over head. 
 Nearly everybody slumberM — 
 
 All at least who were in bed. 
 When the coolie, nothing- daunted 
 
 By the armed watch and ward, 
 Roused his soul, Dalhousie-haunted, 
 
 For a visit to the lord. 
 
 Not a single lamp was burning* 
 
 In Dalhousie^s lofty halls. 
 But the moon at every turning" 
 
 Brig-htly shone upon the walls ; 
 Shone in every nook and corner, 
 
 Shone in every hall and room, 
 Shone out like a brilliant seorner 
 
 Of such thing's as uig-lit or g-loom. 
 
 And throughout that lordly dwelling" 
 
 Not a sound the silence stirr'd, 
 Save when some wild jackalTs yelling" 
 
 From the neighbouring plain was heard ; 
 Or when clank of spur or sabre 
 
 Of the sentries on the stair. 
 Or the snore of heavy sleeper 
 
 Broke upon the midnight air.
 
 And the moon shone but more bvig-htly, 
 
 And the silence reig-nM more deep. 
 As our hero, treading- lightly, 
 
 Went to see the lord asleep ! 
 Past the bayonet, past the sabre. 
 
 Past the guards, our hero went. 
 No suspicions did they harbour 
 
 Of the coolie's odd intent. 
 
 Thus he spake to every sentry. 
 
 Thus to all the guard he said, 
 " Pray excuse my ill-timed entry 
 
 " When I ought to be in bed ; 
 " But this evening, dreadful error, 
 
 "In the Dome my tools I left, 
 " And I'm in the greatest terror, 
 
 "Almost of my mind bereft. 
 
 " Much I fear my vengeful master 
 
 " Will enforce his rigid rules, 
 " Cutting, oh, the dread disaster, 
 
 " My month's tullub for the tools ! ! 
 *•' Let me therefore, sentry, go there, 
 
 " Let me therefore go upstairs, 
 " For I really think I know where 
 
 " 1 did leave them unawares.^'
 
 TJic Bengalee ''Boy Jones." 
 
 65 
 
 Thus he spake to every sentry. 
 
 As the tears rolFd down his cheek. 
 Thus he g-ain'd an easy entry 
 
 To the room that he did seek ; 
 Thei'e, before the chamber sprawling*. 
 
 Slept the watchful Jemadar — 
 O^er that sleeper gently crawling", 
 
 Nothing now his way can bar ! 
 
 Sec, upon a bed reposing". 
 
 With his head upon his arm. 
 See the great Dalhousie dozing 
 
 In a slumber soft and calm ! 
 There he lay, that awful being". 
 
 Idol of the coolie^s soul ! 
 Who can guess what soft delirium 
 
 O'er that coolie's senses stole ? 
 
 As he stood, in wonder staring- 
 
 At the great recumbent lord. 
 Hardly breathing, never daring 
 
 To ejaculate a word ; 
 With wide-open eyes admiring, 
 
 Wondering such a sight to see, 
 Of his little self enquiring 
 
 What the sleeper's dreams might be.
 
 ()G The Bengalee " Boy Joncsr 
 
 Was he dreaming' of the millions 
 
 "Which his luUub made in -pice, 
 Of his horses and postillions. 
 
 Of his dholl, his g-hee, his rice ? 
 AVas he drcamiiif^ of the jjleasure 
 
 He should have in after days, 
 When npon his lakhs of treasure 
 
 Gloating eyes would fondly gaze ? 
 
 Thus the coolie stood in wonder 
 
 Till he thought it time to g-o, 
 Then he made his awful hlunder — 
 
 Fool ! how could he blunder so? 
 Not content with the uncertain 
 
 Light upon the lord asleep, 
 He must open out the curtain 
 
 For a nearer, clearer peep. 
 
 Slowly pull'd he out the curtain, 
 
 Gently squeezed himself inside, 
 And again, for one short moment. 
 
 With delight the sleeper eyed ; 
 But, alas ! in that same moment 
 
 Something on the silence broke, 
 And his lordship on a sudden 
 
 AVith a gentle start awoke.
 
 Oh ! the horror of the coolie, 
 And the noble lorcFs surprise, 
 
 When the latter, coming slowly 
 To his senses, fixM his eyes 
 
 On his wretched victim, staring-. 
 Trembling" now in every limb. 
 
 With Dalhousie^s lierce eyes glaring- 
 Like a tiger^s full at him ! 
 
 '' Who the devil are you, fellow ? 
 
 " WUiat the devil do you here V 
 Loudly did his lordship bellow 
 
 At the poor man, white from fear. 
 " Here, chuprassee, jemadar, 
 
 " Hero you sleeping lazy soors,^' — 
 At his cries from near and far 
 
 In tlu'v rushM through all the doors. 
 
 Jemadar and kidmutgai-. 
 
 Peon, ehupprassee, bearers all, 
 Havildar and duflhdar, 
 
 Aides-de-Camp bdlh short and tall, 
 On the poor devoted coolie 
 
 Most courageously tliey rusli'd, 
 And with treatment most nnnily 
 
 Here and there tlu-ir victim pushed;
 
 Till at last witli one tremeiulous 
 
 Burst the coolie took his flight. 
 From such jum])s may Heaven defend us. 
 
 As he took on that same night ! ! 
 Down the staircase wildly rushing, 
 
 Jumping twenty steps outright. 
 Past the sentries fiercely i)ushing, 
 
 "Who can stop his frantic flight ? 
 
 Vain the speed of every hearer. 
 
 Vain the Aides-de-Camps' fierce chase, 
 Not a single man got nearer, 
 
 jN one could go the coolie^s pace ; — 
 Past the hayonet, past the sabre, 
 
 Past the guard, the gate, the wall. 
 Till he got to Diamond Harbour 
 
 Never stopp'd that iiian :it all.
 
 The Song of Death. 
 
 69 
 
 THE SOXG OF DEATH, 
 
 Cawnpoke. 
 
 With bod}'^ wasted and worn, 
 
 With a heart as heavy as lead, 
 A woman sat where her husband's form 
 
 On the blood-stainM floor lay dead ! 
 AVomen and children, wild 
 
 AVith hung'or, round her pressM ; 
 One little babe, her infant child. 
 
 Was starving- on her breast. 
 And thus with weary song- she lulPd 
 
 Her dying child to rest ; — 
 
 " Hoar— roar — roar ! — 
 
 Oh ! that dread incessant din 
 From the enemy^s guns without, 
 
 And our own few guns within ! 
 Shell, and musket, and gun. 
 
 Gun, and musket, and shell, 
 Mingle their roar with our groans and shrieks. 
 
 And turn this place into Hell !
 
 " Roar — roar — roar ! — 
 
 Will those hideons g-tms no'or cease? 
 Roar ! — roar — roar — 
 
 Must death ho our sole release? 
 Must all;, the fiood, the hrave, 
 
 The youuo- and the old, thus die? 
 Must we vainly pray to liini to save? 
 
 To God must we vainly cry ? 
 
 " Death— Death— Death ! 
 
 In every shape and form. 
 Death, Death, Death, 
 
 Rides on the iron storm ! 
 He comes with the hurtling* shot, 
 
 He comes with the hursting shell, 
 While wounds, starvation, and disease 
 
 Do his dread work too well. 
 
 " I have lost my hushand dear. 
 
 Two brothers and their wives, 
 And while my life is wearing out 
 
 Death takes my children's lives ! 
 Oh !— Death— Death— Death ! 
 
 ■"Mid misery, hunger, and woe. 
 My last child dying, my husband dead, 
 
 I court thy friendly blow.
 
 TJic Song of Death. 71 
 
 " And why should I sliriuk from Death 
 
 When my dear ones all are g-one ? 
 Their lives were ended in want and woe. 
 
 And wliy not thus my own ? 
 Oh ! husband, good and kind. 
 
 Oh ! ever dear to me, 
 Oh ! why should thy wife I'emain behind 
 
 When Death has taken thee ? 
 
 '' Death— Death— Death !— 
 
 I hear the weary moan 
 Of another sobbing wife repl}^ 
 
 To her husband^s dvino* ffroan ? 
 And I hear the dreadful oaths 
 
 Of a soldier in his pain ; 
 Another hour that wretched man 
 
 Will never curse ag-aiu. 
 
 '' Death— Death— Death !— 
 
 'Neath yon embankment there, 
 A husband tends his wounded wife. 
 
 And friends kneel round in prayer ! 
 Their tears fall thick and fast 
 
 On that blood-stain\l, blood-red, sod, 
 As their dying- friend's last torture past, 
 
 Her soul takes flight to God !
 
 7i TJic Song of Death. 
 
 " Death— Death— Death !— 
 
 Yon fcver\l woman seems 
 To be happy 'mid those joyous scenes 
 
 AVhich come but in her dreams; 
 But her weary wasted form, 
 
 Her fiercely burning" head, 
 Proclaim that soon her troubles o'er 
 
 She, too, must join the dead. 
 
 " Last week her husband fell 
 
 Shot down close by her side. 
 And then her g-rey-hairM mother 
 
 In that burning barrack died ! 
 Her only sister followed 
 
 Struck by a bursting- shell. 
 To-morrow she will join them all 
 
 Down in that hideous well.* 
 
 " Oh ! were my loved ones all 
 
 Once more in life ag-ain. 
 Oh ! were they only safe from here, 
 
 From all this g-rief and pain ; 
 
 • Every evening a burial party was told-ofF to throw into the 
 well the bodies of all who had been killed, or had died during the 
 previous day.
 
 The Song of Death. 
 
 73 
 
 From all this carnage, woe, and strife 
 
 To see them safely fly. 
 How g-ladly would I yield my life. 
 
 How gladly would I die \" 
 
 With body wasted and worn, 
 
 With a heart as heavy as lead, 
 A woman nursed her dying" child. 
 
 Her husband, near her, dead. 
 
 Death— Death— Death 
 In weary tones, with gasping breath, 
 
 ' Mid misery, sickness, wounds, and woe, 
 ' Mid the cannon^s roar and the yells of the foe. 
 
 She sang this song about Death — 
 
 Her husband's corpse was thrown 
 That evening in the well, 
 
 W4iose black deep mouth for victims yawn'd 
 Like one of the mouths of Hell. 
 Deith— Death— Death— 
 
 Her babe, her last, was dead. 
 
 Heart-broken, from that bloody floor 
 She rose and stagger'd to the door. 
 Then pass'd out to return no more ; 
 
 The stars shone overhead ;
 
 74 TJic Song of Death. 
 
 The cannon's roar, the foes' wild yell 
 (Her child's, her own, her husband's, knell) 
 
 Upon her ear unheeded fell. 
 As, pressing to her broken heart 
 The babe from which she could not part. 
 
 She plunged into the well.
 
 THE WIFE'S WELCOME. 
 
 They lived apart for four years, -waiting for the decree divorcing 
 her from her first hushand, and then they were married. 
 
 Four long years ag-o we parted. 
 
 Four long years ago^ 
 Silent, sobbing, broken-hearted. 
 From my burning eyelids started 
 
 Tears of real woe ; 
 All my soul Avithin me sinking. 
 
 How I clung to thee ! 
 From all words of comfort shrinking. 
 Only of our parting thinking. 
 
 Dead I wished to be ! 
 
 Four long years of silent sorrow. 
 
 Four long weary years. 
 Every day renewed to-morrow 
 With no solace whence to borrow 
 
 Comfort in my fears ; 
 By no smile of kind friend gladdened. 
 
 Still I waited on, 
 By ray blighted hopes near maddenM, 
 Sickness-stricken, spirit-saddened. 
 
 Till four years were gone.
 
 Then at last tlie silver lining 
 
 Of my clouded life 
 Shone from Heaven aud now is shining 
 
 On a hap})y wife ; ^ 
 And she cries with heart-felt feelinfr 
 
 As she clings lo thee^ 
 From her eyes the bright drops stealing, 
 All her pent-up love revealing, 
 
 " Welcome back to me, 
 " Welcome, dear long absent husband, 
 " Welcome to the heart that mournM thee, 
 " Welcome to the eyes that wc2)t thee, 
 " AVelcome back to me/^
 
 HOME SICKNESS. 
 
 Suggested by verses under tliat name, in " Household AVords," 
 about ten years ago. 
 
 Wheee we are, our hearts are wauderinj^ 
 
 Far across the white sea-foara, 
 Christmas still renews the long-ing- 
 
 For our dear old Island Home, 
 Every English heart in India 
 
 Pines its native land to see, 
 Evermore we long- to settle 
 
 AYhere we fain would be. 
 
 Where we are — ^mid gorg-eous flowers- 
 Rose and dahlia blossom fair, 
 
 And the pale-white, day-elosed cereus 
 Opens to the evening air. 
 
 Daisy, buttercup, and lily. 
 Lilac, and laburnum-tree. 
 
 Deck the meadow and the garden, 
 AVhere we fain would be.
 
 78 Home Sickness. 
 
 Where we are, the Bulhiil only- 
 Warbles forth his scarce-heard lay, 
 
 Birds of every hue and plumage 
 
 Through the jungles wing their way. 
 
 Linnetj robin^ thrush, and cuckoo 
 Pour their notes from hedge and tree, 
 
 And the skylark wakes the morning, 
 Where we fain would be. 
 
 Where we are, broad plains and jungle 
 
 Make at best a dreary view. 
 Unrelieved by oak or beech-tree. 
 
 Or the graceful bending yew. 
 Hill and valley, woodland, meadow. 
 
 And the ever glorious sea. 
 Are where we in childhood wander'd. 
 
 Where we fain would be. 
 
 Where we are, the stately Baniau 
 
 Stretches far across the glade. 
 But beneath it cobras nestle 
 
 And "the tiger finds a shade. 
 Under oak and elm our children 
 
 Ramble, from all danger free. 
 By that lake or rippling streamlet, 
 
 Where we fain would be.
 
 Where we are, a tliousaud fire-flies 
 
 Sparkle in tlie autumn nig-ht. 
 And the myriad stars of Heaven 
 
 Elsewhere never shine so bright. 
 But the star-showers in the moonhght 
 
 Flash along the deep blue sea. 
 And the g-olden glowworm glistens, 
 
 Where we fain would be. 
 
 Here no sound of scythe or sickle, 
 
 Here no reaper^s song is heard. 
 With the tinkling of the sheep-bell 
 
 Here the air is never stirred. 
 Strains of featherM warblers mingle 
 
 With the reaper's song of glee. 
 With the pleasant low of cattle. 
 
 Where we fain would be. 
 
 Where we are, the Sabbath service 
 
 Calls us with such measured pv.al. 
 Slow and mournful, that upon us 
 
 English Sabbath memories steal. 
 How we miss that tuneful chiming. 
 
 When we trod the verdant lea, 
 From each little village belfry. 
 
 Where we fain would be.
 
 so Home Sickness. 
 
 "Wliorc wo are, ouv t.lioiii>-lits are ever 
 
 Many thousand miles away, 
 Where the g-rej^-hairM niotlier watches 
 
 0\n" our little ones at play. 
 And, in fancy's dream, the rafter 
 
 Echoes to their shouts of g'iee. 
 Would that we could share their laughter. 
 
 Where we fain would be.
 
 Hiawatha in Calcutta. 81 
 
 HIAWATHA IN CALCUTTA. 
 
 1859. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIRST. 
 
 Sir Mawdun Lawson Swell-well. 
 
 Should you ask me whence these verses. 
 
 Whence this parody in doggrel. 
 
 All about a learned Justice, — 
 
 With his bumptious ways and manners, 
 
 With his plans for reformation. 
 
 And his fondness for a squabble 
 
 With the Bar and the Attornies, 
 
 And in fact with everybody, 
 
 Like some cross-grained village terrier, 
 
 Or Columbia's " Snapping Turtle/' — 
 
 I should answer, I should tell you, 
 " From the Bencli of the Supreme Court, 
 When Sir Mawdun Swell-welFs sitting 
 Either singly at the Sessions,
 
 8fJ Hiawatha in Calcutla. 
 
 Trying divers rogfues ancl. villains, 
 Bullying- witnesses and jury. 
 Witnesses, police, and jury ; 
 Or when with his brother Jaksun 
 He sits hearing suits and causes 
 On the Plea side or in Chancery, 
 Or some dreary dry demurrer. 
 Or some sharp contested motion 
 For Injunction and Receiver ; 
 Sometimes ogling purdah women. 
 Through the half-closed doors of palkees ; 
 Sometimes on his knee judicial 
 Dangling little Hindoo infants. 
 Praying to the Court for guardians, 
 Quite oblivious of the vermin 
 Dropping from their sable bodies ; 
 Sometimes bothering a Counsel, 
 Sometimes badgering a witness. 
 Sometimes sneering at Attornies, 
 Snapping right and left around him. 
 Like Columbians ' Snapping Turtle ;' 
 Or when, as Commissioner Swell-well, 
 He refuses his protection 
 To each penniless Insolvent, 
 Till all those who come before him. 
 Fearing lest they be imprison^. 
 Only ask for an adjournment.
 
 Or when, as a Juclg'e in Chamljers, 
 Swell-well takes the Chamber business, 
 Quarrelling- with the meek Attornies, 
 And the often meeker Counsel : 
 Commenting" upon the practice 
 And proceedings in this country/^ 
 
 If still further you should ask me, 
 Saying- " Who is this Mawdun ? 
 Tell us of the Judg-e Sir Mawdun, 
 Of Sir Mawdun Lawsou Swell- well"— 
 
 I should answer, I should tell you, 
 Straightway in such words as follow : 
 " Near the Halls of Old Westminster, 
 In its dusty legal i)urHous, 
 Studied once a would-be memlier 
 Of the learned Bar of Eng-land. 
 Not much time he spent in reading-, 
 Little time he spent in mugging — 
 Skiird was be in sports and pastimes, 
 In the merry dance, the Polka ; 
 In the play of quoits and rackets ; — 
 Very skilful too at cricket. 
 Batting, bowling, long-stop, fielding. 
 None could stand before his bowling ;
 
 S4 Hiaivatha in Calcutta. 
 
 Rarely could they take his wicket, 
 Save when he had taken luncheon ; — 
 SkilFd was he in playing- billiards, 
 Cues and balls, the game of billiards. 
 Making, with the right or left hand. 
 With the cue, or butt, or jigger, 
 Wondrous hazards, screws, and cannons ; 
 So skilled that he might have made at 
 Pyramids and Pool a living. 
 Skill'd he also was in shooting, 
 Nev(?r missing snipe or partridge, 
 With his gun, his ' Westly Ptichards," 
 Double-barreird ' Westly Richards/ 
 Quick and clever too at sparring. 
 Clever was he with his mawleys. 
 Young Dutch Sam, Crib, Hannau, Randall, 
 Scarce were better with their mawleys. 
 Cabmen, Navvies, Beaks, and Blackguards 
 All went down before his mawleys ! 
 And he long was called the Chicken, 
 Styled ' the plucky West-end Chicken/ 
 Nurses, servant-girls, and barmaids 
 Loved the plucky West-end Chicken. 
 Varying study with such pastimes, 
 Mr. Swell-well, sucking Lawyer, 
 Pass'd his terms and eat his muttons.
 
 Then (devour'd his prentice muttons) 
 
 CjiirJ unto tbo Bar ])ehokl him. 
 
 Very grave and veiy learned, 
 
 Buftwas long- before the public 
 
 Knew that he was very learned. 
 
 In the Halls of old Westminster, 
 
 In its ancient Courts of Justice, 
 
 Long upon the hindmost benches. 
 
 In his gown of stuff, and briefless. 
 
 Sate he all unknown and briefless. 
 
 Dreaming of forensic honors. 
 
 Dreaming of big briefs and guineas. 
 
 Dreaming of the Bench and Woolsack. 
 
 Seeing through the dreamy vista 
 
 Of a long forensic future. 
 
 Briefs and Guineas, Bench and Woolsack, 
 
 Till a pitying kind Attorney 
 
 (How he loved that kind Attorney !) 
 
 On the poor youth took compassion. 
 
 Handing him a common motion ; 
 
 Then a brief of fair dimensions. 
 
 With his name endorsed as Junior ; 
 
 Tbon, again upon the Circuit, 
 
 Now and then a prosecution. 
 
 Or defence at the Assizes, ^ 
 
 Mark'd him as a ' rising Junior.' 
 
 *
 
 86 HiaivatJia in Calcutta. 
 
 Step by step he climbM the ladder, 
 Climl/d the hidder of preferment. 
 Till at last his star of fortiine 
 Rose, and he became a Sergeant : 
 Sillc-gown\l in the foremost Benches, 
 Fnll of common law and logic. 
 Full of statute law and quibbles. 
 Full of law in all its branches. 
 Soon he earned a reputation 
 As a Nisi Prius Lawyer, 
 As a deep-read Chancery Lawyer, 
 As a Parliamentary Lawyer. 
 Then no more he played at rackets, 
 No more heard the shouts at cricket, 
 ' Ah, you muff, you butter-fingers '/ 
 No more heard the marker shouting, 
 ' Green on yellow, brown's your player, 
 ^ Yellow's dead ; will yellow star, Sir ?' 
 No more crushing blows delivered 
 On the nose of beak or blackguard ; 
 No more flirted with the barmaids ; 
 No more kissed the black-eyed nurses ; 
 Bxit stuck close to his profession. 
 And increased his reputation, 
 And at last a vacant Judgeship, 
 Object of his long ambition.
 
 Offei'^d was for his acceptance. — 
 
 Never paused he for a moment, 
 
 But accepted of the offer, 
 
 Kicking" up his heels and skipping". 
 
 And became a Judge Colonial — 
 
 Puisne Justice at Calcutta, 
 
 And at once of course was knig-hted. 
 
 And was ' Sir' instead of Serjeant. 
 
 Then he came out to Calcutta, 
 
 To this hot and broiling city, 
 
 To this land of lying" nigg-ers. 
 
 To this land of sun and nigg-ers. 
 
 Such the history of Mawdun, 
 
 Such the story of Sir Mawdun, 
 
 Of Sir Mawdun Lawsou Swell-well/^ 
 
 Ye who love an hour's amusement 
 
 In this dreary dull Calcutta, 
 
 In this dull and dreary city, — 
 
 Go some morning, when youVe leisure,, 
 
 Go and listen to Sir Mawdun, 
 
 When upon the Bench he^s sitting, 
 
 Go and pass an hour with Swell-well : 
 
 Then you^U say, as doth the writer, 
 
 That ' an hour with Swell-weirs' pleasant. 
 
 Pleasant is ' au hour with Swell- well/
 
 88 Hiawatha in Calcutta. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SECOND. 
 
 Sir Mawdun Swell-well and the Peace-Pipe. 
 
 On the morning he was sworn in 
 On the Bench of the Supreme Court, 
 When the usual oaths he'd taken, 
 Puisne Judge, Sir Mawdun Swell-well, 
 From the Bench of the Supreme Court, 
 With a smile of grave decorum. 
 Bowing to the Bar, descended. 
 Then he walked unto his Chambers, 
 And he called his son unto him, 
 Caird his little boy unto him. 
 Saying, " Oh, my little Swell-well, 
 Oh, my little sucking Lawyer, 
 In your father's eyes an Infant, 
 In the eyes of Law an Infant ; 
 But my Clerk, although an Infant, 
 Go and call the tribes of Lawyers, 
 Go and call them all together, 
 Tell them 'tis a Judge's summons, 
 Tell them 'tis a Judge's order. 
 To attend him at his Chambers. 
 Run my child, my legal Infant, 
 Call the tribes of Law together ; 
 I await them at my Chambers."
 
 HiawatJia in Calcutta, 89 
 
 Straightway ran the infant Swell-well 
 
 Down the staircase without stopping", 
 
 From the Chambers to the Court House, 
 
 To the room of the Attornies, 
 
 To the library of the Counsel, 
 
 All along" the long verandah, 
 
 Up and down each winding staircase, 
 
 Into every room and office, 
 
 Hopping, skipping, shouting, screaming, 
 
 " Come, oh Counsel, come Attornies, 
 
 Come unto my Governor's Chambers : 
 
 Listen to your Judge's Summons, 
 
 And obey your Judge's Order/' 
 
 Forth they came, the trilDes of Lawyers, 
 
 Silk-gown'd Counsel, grave Attornies, 
 
 Public Notaries and Proctors, 
 
 Leaving bags and briefs behind them. 
 
 Leaving bills of costs behind them ; 
 
 Tripping over one another. 
 
 Pushing forward without stopping, 
 
 Soon they reach'd Sir Mawdun's Chambers, 
 
 Stood within Judge Swell-well's Chambers, 
 
 Then he spoke to them in this wise, 
 
 Stretching over them his right hand. 
 
 Smiling with a grave decorum : 
 
 " Hearken unto me, ye Lawyers, 
 
 Members of the same profession : 
 
 31
 
 90 HiaivatJia in Calnttta. 
 
 Vm. your fiitlier, you're my cliilclrcn^ — 
 Listen to the words of wisdom 
 Whieli upon my lips are lioverino-. 
 I have come from old Westminster, 
 From those Halls of Law and Justice, 
 From her famous Courts of Justice ; 
 I have crossed the big-sea water 
 To this land of sun and niggers ; 
 To this land of virtuous niggers ; 
 I've been made your Puisne Justice, 
 And I mean to do full justice 
 To my berth and high position, 
 I've been told that in this country 
 White men, speaking of these natives. 
 In derision call them niggers. 
 Call them cheating, lying niggers ; 
 Saying that '■ they can't be beaten 
 At the game of fraud and falsehood.' 
 I have also heard with sorrow, 
 When at home, the old tradition 
 Of the merchant of Calcutta, — 
 That he is not altogether 
 ' Quite the thing, the clean Potato ;' 
 That just like his lordly dwelling. 
 Now and then he needs a white-wash. 
 I have also heard that tradesmen 
 Charge the most tremendous prices.
 
 HiaivatJia in Calcutta. 91 
 
 And with tempting" words and civil. 
 
 And with promises of credit. 
 
 Lead the soft unwary youngster 
 
 To the dogs and to the devil. 
 
 I have heard, too, that you Lawyers, 
 
 When you get the chance of plunder. 
 
 Take the chance and make the plunder : 
 
 Of the Union Bank the story 
 
 Is not even yet forgotten." 
 
 Here he paused. The mighty speaker 
 Paused to cough and clear his thorax : 
 Either had a stray musquito 
 Flown into his throat and stuck there. 
 Causing pain and irritation ; 
 Or, the speaker's strong emotion 
 Choked his utterance for a moment. 
 For he cough''d to clear his thorax. 
 Then, his cranium gravely shaking, 
 Thus the learned Judge proceeded : 
 
 *' All thege things are very wicked, 
 And, to my mind, very shocking. — 
 Why should natives he called niggers. 
 And be treated with derision ? 
 Why should these Calcutta merchants 
 Not be rich until they're white-wash'd ?
 
 Why should tradesmen, with huge prices, 
 
 Tempting" words, and credit system, 
 
 Lead tlie unwary to their ruin ? 
 
 Why should Lawyers seek for plunder ? 
 
 Oh my children ! Oh my Lawyers ! 
 
 I have come to stop this scandal. 
 
 To improve your ways of business ; 
 
 In this careless sinful city 
 
 I will be a Great Reformer, 
 
 And all fraud will sternly punish : — 
 
 I will not allow Insolvents 
 
 To go scathless from my presence ; 
 
 And if you will do your duty. 
 
 And in all things aid and help me. 
 
 You will prosper, I shall prosper. 
 
 And the public too will prosper. 
 
 Go, my children, tell the public 
 
 All that I have said this morning ; 
 
 But before you leave my presence. 
 
 That we may be friends together. 
 
 That we all may know each other. 
 
 Stay and smoke a friendly peace-pipe : 
 
 Let us smoke a pipe together." 
 
 Then upon the chairs he made them 
 Sit down in a crowd before him ;
 
 Hiawatha in Calcutta. 93 
 
 And he ordered out his Pipe-box, 
 OrderM out his best Tobacco, 
 OrderM out his large Cigai'-case : 
 And Sir Mawdun Lawson Swell-well 
 FilFd a short clay-pipe with Bird^s-eye ; 
 Darkly brown the bowl was colored 
 With some years of steady smoking. 
 And he made his little Infant 
 Hand around to all the Lawyers 
 Pipes, Cigars, Cheroots, Tobacco. — 
 Some preferrM a Clay or Meerschaum 
 FilFd with Cavendish or Dog^s-nose, 
 Negro-head, or Latakia, 
 Shag, Returns, or Prince's mixture : 
 Others chose Cheroots, Manillas, 
 Chose the number 3 Manillas. 
 Some, to smoking not accustomed. 
 Took Cigars, the mild Havannahs ; 
 While a few, with Indian habits, 
 CalPd for Gools and smoked the Hookah :- 
 Only did the native Lawyers 
 Use the handy Hubble-bubble. 
 There they sat, the tribes of Lawyers, 
 In Sir Mawdun Swell-weirs Chambers ; 
 Sat and smoked an hour in silence ; — 
 Not a sound disturbed the silence 
 Save the bubbling Hubble-bubble,
 
 94. 
 
 HiazvatJia in Calcutta. 
 
 And the spitting* of the Lawyers 
 As they sat and smoked the Peace-Pipe^ — 
 Smoked the Pipe of Peace tog-ether. 
 Then, with one accord, they parted. 
 Bowing lowly to Sir Mawdun ; 
 "Who, with his rig-ht hand extended. 
 Once more in this wise addressed them ; 
 " Oh my children, let this Peace-Pipe 
 Which we now have smoked together, — 
 Let our Pipe of Peace remind you 
 That you are my friends henceforward. 
 That We^ll all be friends together/' 
 And he added, " Now g-ood morning :" 
 And they answerM, " Sir, good morning/'
 
 " Our Visiting BretJiren^' 
 
 95 
 
 '' OUR VISITING BRETHREN/ 
 
 As SUNG IN Lodge "Excelsior." 
 
 ti 
 
 Tou may roam through the tvorld. 
 
 You may roam through this place some new pleasure to 
 seek, 
 And in search of excitement may try every dodge. 
 But, wherever you go any day in the week, 
 
 You^ll enjoy yourselves most when you visit this 
 Lodge. 
 For if hearts that glow like burning coal, 
 Full of social love and right good cheer. 
 Are comrades who most delight the soul. 
 
 You're sure to enjoy yourselves when you come here. 
 Then remember whenever for fun you're in- 
 clined, 
 "When at home disengaged aud with no- 
 thing to do. 
 On the first and third Tuesday of each month 
 you'll liiid 
 'Mid the hearts of ' Excelsior' a welcome 
 for you.
 
 9G 
 
 '' Our Visiting Brethren^ 
 
 Our Lodge is a young- one, an infant in years. 
 
 Of antiquity^s honors it cannot yet boast, 
 Yet it already feels that true love which endears 
 
 To a visiting- Brother the heart of his host. 
 Yes, we Excelsiors feel that ' mystic tie^ 
 
 Which hinds alike the rich and poor, 
 And with kindly heart and beaming eye 
 We welcome all who enter our door. 
 
 Then remember whenever for fun you^-e in- 
 clined. 
 When at home disengag-ed and with no- 
 thing to do. 
 On the first and third Tuesday of each month 
 you'll find 
 'Mid the hearts of ' Excelsior' a welcome 
 for you. 
 
 3. 
 
 Our guests here to-night will, we hope, come again 
 
 To join in our work and partake of our cheer. 
 And let them not think that they come here in vain. 
 
 For they help us upstairs and the}^ gladden us here. 
 For ' Excelsior^ loves her guests to see 
 
 Where her songs are sung and her wine is pour'd. 
 And those guests to please their hosts should be 
 
 A host in themselves at her festive board.
 
 " Our Visit ins: Brethren T 97 
 
 Then remcml:)er whenever for fun you're in- 
 clined^ 
 When at home disengaged and with nothing 
 to do_, 
 On the first and third Tuesday of each month 
 you^ll find 
 'Mid the hearts of ^ Excelsior' a welcome 
 for you. 
 
 N
 
 98 Excelsior. 
 
 EXCELSIOR! 
 As SUNG AT Lodge "Excelsior.'"' 
 
 The hours of night arc waning- fast. 
 The eating- part of our repast 
 Is (lone, and now, with wine and ice. 
 We chant this song, and chorus thrice. 
 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 Our ]\taster is a Mason meek, 
 AVlio tolls you with the greatest cheek 
 These lines are his, — an artful dodge 
 To sing the praises of his Lodge 
 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 His brow surrounded with a wreath 
 Of white smoke curling through his teeth- 
 He sings not — never has he sung — 
 But calls for songs with oily tongue. 
 
 Excelsior.
 
 Excelsior. 99 
 
 He'd make us stay all iiig-lit if we- 
 Would but remain — that cannot be ; 
 From loving wife or sister dear 
 We do not wish this taunt to hear, 
 
 " Excelsior ! ! V 
 
 " Beware," the Wardens say, " beware, 
 " Beware that Master debonair, 
 " A man must be, with him to chaff, 
 " All unconcerned while others laugh, 
 
 Excelsior/' 
 
 *' Oh stay," Tom Jones implores, " oh stay ! 
 
 " Upon the bones I have to play, 
 
 " Not Davey Carson on the bones 
 
 " Can vie with me, Past-Master Jones, 
 
 Excelsior." 
 
 Our evening o'er, at home arrived. 
 We preach the good we have derived. 
 And pour into our loved one's ear 
 The merits of the Lodge so dear, 
 
 Excelsiok. 
 
 And thus the praises that we get 
 From lier on whom our love is set,
 
 100 Excelsior. 
 
 " My dear, my pet_, how very nice, 
 " How very free from aught like vice. 
 
 Excelsior ! ! !" 
 
 In after days, when old and g-rey, 
 We^U think of evening-s passM away. 
 Of fun, songs, glees, and nigger bones 
 And banjos played by Thomas Jones, 
 
 " Excelsior/-'
 
 TJic Entered Apprentice s Toast. 101 
 
 THE ENTERED APPRENTICE'S TOAST. 
 
 As SUNG IN Lodge " Excelsior." 
 
 Come pass round tlie bowl^ let cacli jovial soul 
 
 Fill a bumper on this great occasion, 
 Thougli not on our legs we must toast to the dregs 
 
 The health of our newly-made Mason. 
 
 But first let us teach, in a song, not a speech 
 
 Like a padre who puts a grave face on, 
 What we always expect, in this sect so select, 
 
 From a Free and an Accepted Mason. 
 
 We first insist on, as a sine qua non. 
 
 That a man has a good reputation. 
 None can enter our camp, who's a tramp, leg, or scamp, 
 
 A " bad lot" we won't make a ]\Iason. 
 
 Then we " secresy" preach, not to tell what we leach. 
 
 And this is his chief obligation, 
 In all time to come let his watchword Ijc " mum" 
 
 As to all that he knows as a jNIason.
 
 10-2 
 
 TJic Entered Apprentice^ s Toast. 
 
 His wife with her wiles, with lier tears and her smiles. 
 While she gets him her dresses to lace on, 
 
 Her sweet lips will pout, and will try to find out 
 All her darling- has learnt as a Mason. 
 
 He's not married, perhaps, and like other soft chaps 
 Has some girl his affections to place on. 
 
 She will wheedle and kiss, and in moments of bliss 
 Try to coax from him what is a Mason. 
 
 Bricks and mortar he'll spurn, while he'll masonry learn. 
 
 Cementing that friendly relation. 
 Which we all understand as the hip, heart, and hand 
 
 Of a Free and an Accepted ISIasori. 
 
 Not a stone, brick, or clod, not a trowel or hod, 
 In the boards which our secrets we trace on, 
 
 Yet he'll find that we fix the full value on bricks, 
 For a " Brick" is each worthy Freemason. 
 
 And soon he will know how our hearts overflow, 
 AVhate'er be our rank or our station, 
 
 AVith charity true, ever ready to do 
 All we can for a poor brother Mason,
 
 The Entered Apprentices Toast. 103 
 
 One other word yet^ lie must never forg-et 
 
 To come here on every occasion, 
 And this we expect, for he must recollect 
 
 We, Excelsiors, have made him a Mason. 
 
 Now let's make the most of this excellent toast. 
 And for preaching* make some reparation. 
 
 For thoug-h the world owns there are sermons in stones. 
 Preaching is not the forte of a Mason, — 
 
 Here's the health of our newly-made Mason.
 
 101 
 
 The Tyler s Toast. 
 
 THE TYLER^S TOAST. 
 
 As SUNG IN Lodge "Excelsior/ 
 
 Hard times, come again no more. 
 
 Let ui3 pause in our banquet and cease a while our clioer^ 
 
 "While we all drink hiiully to the poor, 
 ^Tis a toast that should ever find hearty welcome here. 
 
 Oh, hard times, come again no more. 
 To the poor, the sad, and the weary. 
 
 Hard times, hard times, come again no more. 
 Far too long" you liaveling-crM with those who sailer sore. 
 
 Oh, hard times, come again no more. 
 
 While we laugh through our revel and all around are 
 
 ^ay, 
 
 There are strong men starving on the moor. 
 There are poor fainting children who for a morsel pray, 
 
 AVhile hard hearts drive them from the door. 
 To the poor, the sad, and the weary, 
 
 Hard times, hard times, come again no more. 
 Far too long you have lingered with those who suffer sore, 
 
 Oh, hard times, come again no more. 
 
 i 
 
 i
 
 The Tyler s Toast. 
 
 105 
 
 There are shrieks from the shipwrecked across the stormy 
 wave, 
 Wild g-roans ''mid the battle's fearful roar, 
 There are deep moans of sorrow from mourners round a 
 grave, 
 Aye, sad hearts at sea and on shore. 
 To the poor, the sad, and the weary. 
 
 Hard times, hard times, come again no more, 
 Far too long you have lingered with those who suffer 
 sore. 
 Oh, hard times, come again no more. 
 
 There's the sigh of the guilty, of the lost, of the betray'd. 
 
 Sad prayers which from Heaven aid implore. 
 Wail of widow'd wife and husband, of lover, and of maid. 
 
 For hearts that beat again no more. 
 To the pool', the sad, and the weary. 
 
 Hard times, hard times, come again no more. 
 Far too long you have lingered with those who suller 
 sore. 
 
 Oh, hard times, come again no more.
 
 lOG /;/ Mcmoriani. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 ^ Twas with plunging-, trembling motion upon a troubled 
 
 ocean, 
 Through the rag-in"-, swcllino^ waters that our vessel 
 
 forced her way, 
 And a day of g-rief was dawning^ as the night gave way 
 
 to morning, 
 When in her dismal cahin my young wife dying lay. 
 
 All that niffht she had been raving with a sad and 
 
 piteous craving 
 For the mother whom she doted on with more than 
 
 woman^s love. 
 And her sunken brown eyes glistenM with madness 
 
 when she listen'd 
 To the waters raging round hov and the wind that howl'd 
 
 above. 
 
 When quiet she seem'd sitting while the twilight hours 
 
 were flitting 
 In the little home in Jersey with her mother by her side. 
 And her children nestled round her and with chains 
 
 of sea-weed bound her, 
 As with all of them she prattled in the pleasant evening 
 
 tide.
 
 In Menioriam. 107 
 
 And thoughts of heavenly glories ming-led with the 
 
 childhood^s stories 
 She had taught her little darlings in their Channel 
 
 Island Home, 
 When they stroll'd the beach together in the balmy 
 
 summer weather, 
 And cuird the sea^s bright treasures amid the rocks and 
 
 foam . 
 
 Again all broken-hearted she wept for the departed, 
 
 For the brother who had left them in the spring time 
 of his life. 
 
 And across each sad reflection came some other recollec- 
 tion 
 
 From the thousand wandering fancies with which her 
 brain was rife. 
 
 Ah, mercy, how she wander'd while with bleeding- 
 heart I ponderM 
 
 On her pure and stainless life that so speedily must 
 cud. 
 
 On the faith that never faiFd her^ on the love that ever 
 haiPd her 
 
 Perfect daughter, sister, mother, perfect wife, and per- 
 fect friend.
 
 108 In Memoriam. 
 
 Her thoughts at last grew clearer and she drew mc 
 
 nearer, nearer, 
 To that scarcely beating heart which was ever true to 
 
 me. 
 And her weary face seemed lighter and her sunken eyes 
 
 shone brighter 
 As she gazed upon the husband she never more might 
 
 see. 
 
 Ah, the bursting sobs that choked me when my dying 
 
 wife invoked me. 
 To forgive her all her failings and think of her at her 
 
 best. 
 And tenderh^ caressing her husband, with a blessing 
 On the dear ones she was leaving, she pass'd unto her 
 
 rest. 
 
 Deep, deep, beneath the billow, the restless sea her pillow, 
 (Beneath no weeping willow, beneath no flower-strewn 
 
 sod). 
 She sleeps, while hearts are breaking, the sleep that 
 
 knows no waking, 
 Till the Angels come from Heaven and take her to her 
 
 God. 
 
 July, 18G1.
 
 Ah, Broken is tJic Goldeit Bowl. 109 
 
 AH, BROKEN IS THE GOLDEN BOWL. 
 
 " Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken." 
 
 Ah, oroken is the golden bowl. 
 
 And loosed the silver cord. 
 And waiting is her gentle soul 
 
 The summons of her Lord. 
 
 The wave, which should have borne her Home 
 
 Upon its surging crest. 
 Now plunges on ^mid spray and foam 
 
 Above her place of rest. 
 
 The breeze, which should have helped that life 
 
 We prayM to Heaven to save. 
 Now murmurs ^mid the wild waves' strife 
 
 A requiem o'er her grave. 
 
 That mother, praying all in vain 
 
 That God will soon restore 
 Her darling to herself again, 
 
 Will see her child no more.
 
 110 Ah, Broken is the Golden Bowl. 
 
 The locks of ag-e which yesterday 
 Upon her care-worn brow 
 
 Were only sprinkled o'er with grey 
 Are white with sorrow now. 
 
 And tiny hands are clasp'd in hers, 
 While childhood's wailing cry 
 
 In that sad Home the silence stirs, 
 " \N\\y did their mother die ?" 
 
 The husband in whose arms she died 
 Must bend unto the blow, 
 
 Must cross again the restless tide 
 Wliere all he loved lies low. 
 
 Then try to bear his heavy load 
 And, like his buried wife. 
 
 Keep onl}' on that narrow road 
 Slie ever trod thronuh life. 
 
 C5 
 
 That when again the golden bowl 
 
 Is broken, and the cord 
 Of silver loosed, his weary soul 
 May hear with her at Heaven's goal 
 
 The summons of their Lord.
 
 Theresa Yelverton. 
 
 Ill 
 
 THERESA YELVERTON. 
 
 Oa the news of her defeat in the House of Lords being communi- 
 cated to her. 
 
 SoiTOW-striclvcn, broken-hearted, to the ground fell poor 
 
 Theresa, 
 Death with all his icy coldness in that moment seemM 
 
 to seize her; 
 Not a shriek, or groan, or murmur, did she utter as a 
 
 token 
 That her hopes were crushed for ever, that her loving 
 
 heart was broken. 
 They could only see her anguish, as with gentle hands 
 
 they raised her, 
 And with words of kindly comfort for her long endur- 
 ance praised her, 
 Bid her hope and still remember in her hour of bitter 
 
 sorrow 
 That the ni^i'lit is ever darkest when 'tis nearest to the 
 
 morrow ; 
 Told her how behind the tempest always bright the 
 
 sun is shining, 
 That each gloomy cloud above us ever has its silver 
 
 lining ;
 
 11^ Theresa Yclvcrton. 
 
 Pray'd her not to be discourag-ed^ spoke of all the ties 
 
 that bound her. 
 Of the help she still would meet with from the many 
 
 friends around her ; 
 Showed her how she yet might conquer, that her cause 
 
 was well defended, 
 That in spite of this defeat her noble struggle was 
 
 not ended. 
 Thus they soothed her broken spirit, raised once more 
 
 a better feeling, 
 Till they saw that through her bosom gentle Hope 
 
 again was stealing ; 
 Then they left her to her sorrow, on her knees before 
 
 her Maker, 
 And she pray\l with Christian meekness that her God 
 
 would not forsake her ; 
 
 Prayed for courage in her trials, that her hopes might 
 
 not be blighted. 
 That her cause some day might triumph, and her cruel 
 
 wrongs be righted ; 
 Pray'd for him who thus to misery her loving heart had 
 
 driven ; 
 Pray'd, whatever else should happen, that he might be 
 
 forgiven.
 
 The Deserted District. 113 
 
 THE DESERTED DISTHICT. 
 
 The moan of the district iu want of the fair sex. 
 
 Ride the planters up and down. 
 Each one muttering with a frown, 
 " Not a petticoat or gown, 
 Woe is me, tea-planter/ 
 
 » 
 
 Here and there policeman strays. 
 Groaning o'er the public ways, 
 " Not a crinoline or stays, 
 " Woe is me. Policeman." 
 
 Grumbles each assistant flat, 
 As he mourns o'er this and that, 
 " Not a single pork-pie hat, 
 " Woe is me, assistant." 
 
 And each poor shopkeeping wight 
 Takes his walk in piteous plight, 
 " Not a single girl in sight, 
 " Woe is me, shopkeeper."
 
 114 TJic Deserted District. 
 
 And the poor civilian too 
 Sighs '^ Ah, me, what shall I do ? 
 " Not a sing-le l)illet-doux, 
 Woe is me, civilian." 
 
 And the regimental swell. 
 As he mourns each absent belle. 
 Votes the place an awful sell, 
 " Woe is me, poor soldier." 
 
 Not one saucer bonnet there. 
 Not one face at which to stare. 
 Not a laugh or sigh to share. 
 Not a single lock of hair. 
 Woe is o'er that district !
 
 To Little L y. 115 
 
 TO LITTLE L Y. 
 
 On her first birthday with a present of a Prayer-book and Bible. 
 
 " Suffer little children and forbid them not to come unto me, for 
 of such is the Kingdom of Heaven." 
 
 Crowds are gather'd round a Teaclier 
 
 On Judsea^s favoured shore, 
 Humbly listening- to the Preacher, 
 
 Raptured with his holy lore ; 
 Prince and peasant, youth and maiden. 
 
 Poor and wealthy, priest and sage. 
 Sickness-stricken, sorrow-laden, 
 
 Happy youth and hoary age, 
 Traveller with his heavy burden. 
 
 Fisherman from Galilee, 
 Pressing o'er the swelling Jordan, 
 
 How thev flock their Lord to see ! 
 
 "While his words entrance each hearer. 
 While those blessed accents flow, 
 
 Mothers press their children nearer 
 Bidding them to Jesus go.
 
 116 To Little L y. 
 
 Saying- tlius^ in Him couliding", 
 
 " Lay th}^ hands on them and pray/' 
 His disciples, gently chiding. 
 
 Send the little ones away. 
 Jesus seeth them from Him driven, 
 
 " Oh ! forbid them not," saith He, 
 " Of such is my kingdom Heaven, 
 
 Suffer them to come to me/^ 
 
 Little infant, type of Heaven, 
 
 Like those little ones of old, 
 May^st thou, darling, ne'er be driven 
 
 From that gentle Saviour's fold. 
 May He in thy youth and beauty 
 
 Shield thee with his holy arm. 
 Teaching thee a Cln-istian's duty. 
 
 Guarding thee from every harm, 
 And when life's short journey's ended. 
 
 And thine eyes in death grow dim, 
 May He, pardoning when olfendcd. 
 
 Suffer thee to come to Him. 
 
 We, thy loving parents, bless thee. 
 
 And on this thy natal day, 
 While to our fond hearts we press thee, 
 
 Thus unto that Saviour pray —
 
 To Little L y. 117 
 
 " Blessed Saviour, gentle Jesus, 
 
 Who upon those children smiled, 
 Bless the presents this day g-iven. 
 
 Bless them to our little child ; 
 Teach her, in the Prayer-hook's pages. 
 
 Thou dost hear and answer prayer. 
 And, in sorrow, let thy Bihle 
 
 Teach her to find comfort there."
 
 118 The Meeting of the Justices. 
 
 THE MEETING OF THE JUSTICES. 
 
 The Ilon'ble G — C 1 on the water-supply. 
 
 It was an ancient gentleman. 
 And he talked for Lours three, 
 
 " By thy long- lean form and dismal drone 
 We fain must listen to thee/' 
 
 The town -hall doors are opened wide, 
 " We must be olf," quoth they — 
 
 He stay\l them only with his hand. 
 They lot him have his say. 
 
 He dazed them with his dismal drone 
 Which through them sent a thrill, 
 
 Tliey listenM all respectfully, 
 The speaker had his will. 
 
 The Justices sat round tiie board, 
 They could not choose but hear, 
 
 And for three mortal hours he poured 
 This subject in their ear — ■
 
 TJie Meeting of the Justices. 119 
 
 '^ Water, water, everywhere, 
 Oh, how the tanks do stink ! 
 
 Water, water, everywhere, 
 
 Nor one clean drop to drink V 
 
 " The ice is here, the ice is there. 
 
 The ice is all around. 
 And with our Trapped champag-ne cup 
 
 In little bits is g-round. 
 
 " All ^neath a hot and copper sky 
 Our bread we daily earn. 
 
 And for a pleasant drink at noon 
 Our parched throats do burn. 
 
 " And still the cry is everywhere, 
 His peg as each one drinks. 
 
 And from his nose excludes the air, 
 " Oh, how the water stinks \" 
 
 "Water, water, everywhere. 
 Oh, how the tanks do stink ! 
 
 Water, water, everywhere, 
 
 Nor one clean drop to drink \"
 
 120 The Meeting of the Justices. 
 
 The Justices sate all dismayed 
 
 To hear this droning- bore, 
 They would, had they not been afraid, 
 
 Have bolted through the door. 
 
 They sate as men who have been stunned, 
 
 And are of sense bereft. 
 Nor did they feel at ease again 
 
 Till that old drone had left.
 
 The "Alabama:' 
 
 121 
 
 THE "ALABAMA. 
 
 One of the London papers commenced an article on the fight between 
 the " Kearsargo" and the " Ahibama" with the following rolling hexa- 
 meter — " Fathoms deep in Norman waters lies the good ship 'Ala- 
 bama.' " 
 
 Fathoms deep in Norman waters lies the ^ood ship 
 
 " Ahibama," 
 Fell destroyer of the " Ilattrass" — Yankee merchant 
 
 ship alarmer^ 
 Burner of a hundred vessels^ terror of each Northern 
 
 shipper, 
 Vanish^'d ^mid the depth of ocean lies the dreaded 
 
 Southern clipper. 
 Shout your poeans, Northern journals, o'er the vanished 
 
 " Alabama," 
 Serames and crew, like Moorish Monarch, murmur " Ay 
 
 de mi, Albania." 
 But, unlike that Moorish noodle, history this boast will 
 
 wreath them. 
 That they did not lose their honor, thoug-h their vessel 
 
 sank beneath them. 
 
 Q
 
 1 00 
 
 1 (yJtyJ 
 
 The "Alabama." 
 
 Scoiirge and dread of Northern commerce, cursed by 
 
 every underwriter^ 
 Loud did Federal cruisers bluster that they only vvish\l 
 
 to fig'ht her ; 
 Eut •she roamed the seas at pleasure, their best merchant 
 
 vessels burniug", 
 Caring not a fig for cruisers, all their bosh and bunkum 
 
 spurning ; 
 Till at last the " Kearsarge" caught her, gave her pump- 
 kin sauce and smashM her. 
 And in several little pieces like a broken egg-shell 
 
 ci-ash'd her; 
 Stove her sides in, knocks her fires out, made her decks 
 
 one scene of slaughter. 
 Till she disappear'd for ever fathoms deep in Norman 
 
 water. 
 But take care my gentle " Kearsarge," " Vanderbilt," 
 
 and " Tuscarora,^^ 
 Semmes will get a better vessel, of your plafced-sides a 
 
 borer, 
 And he^ll let the daylight through you, knock you into 
 
 tarnal shivers, 
 Sweep you all from off the ocean, from your ports and 
 
 from your rivers.
 
 The Scream of the American Eagle. 123 
 
 THE SCREAM OF THE AMERICAN EAGLE, 
 
 OR 
 
 THE CROW OF YANKEE-DOODLE. 
 
 You sneaking skunks of England 
 
 Who stay at home at ease. 
 Who think because you never fight 
 
 You^re rulers of the seas. 
 Another pirate launch again 
 
 To match a New York foe, 
 For the fame of your name 
 
 Which has had so sad a blow. 
 While we Yankees bluster loud and Ions: 
 
 And over England crow 
 
 Cock-a-doodle-doo. 
 
 The shatter'd " Alabama" 
 
 Lies deep beneath the wave, 
 Your finest guns and gunners 
 
 Their vessel couldn't save, 
 When our noble ship, the " Kearsarge," 
 
 Her shot and shell did throw, 
 To the bottom in an hour 
 
 Did the " Alabama" go.
 
 And we Yankees bluster loud and long 
 And over England crow 
 
 Yankee-doodlc-doo. 
 
 Tiie flag of old Columbia 
 
 Shall ne^er again be furFd 
 Till, baving scourged the Soutbern States, 
 
 We wbip tbe wbole wide world ; 
 With real ligbtning from our guns 
 
 Our thunderbolts we'll throw, 
 Till not a single Britisher 
 
 Upon the seas doth shew. 
 Then wont we bluster loud and long 
 
 And over England crow 
 
 Cook-a-doodle-doooo 
 
 Yes, then, you sneaking Britishers, 
 
 Our sono" and feast shall flow 
 When we sink your Island, Queen and all, 
 
 Old ocean's depths below. 
 And masters of the ' varsal airth 
 
 We'll liquor to and fro. 
 Drink gin-slings with our Irish slaves 
 
 And trumpets loudly blow 
 To the fame of our name. 
 
 And o'er the whole world crow 
 
 Yankee-doodle-doooooo.
 
 MY " COLLEEN BAWN/' 
 
 " Every night," he said, " I watch that light ia my garden, 
 and I rememher poor Eily O'Connor's light on Muckross Head, as she 
 watched for Hardress Cregan, and I think of my own Colleen Bawn." 
 
 A lig-lit used to shine on Muckross Head, 
 
 Which told that the Colleen Bawn 
 With weary heart and with eyelids red 
 Sate sighing- to hear her hushand's tread^ 
 Sate sighing at times till the night had fled 
 To end with a drearier morn. 
 
 At times he came and her beacon bright 
 
 From that moment ceased its ray. 
 And the darkness told that her heart was light 
 That had sighed so long for the coming night 
 And pined J as the moments wing'd their flight, 
 
 For the love which she miss'd by day. 
 
 At other times that lamp burnM on 
 
 But vainly showed its light, 
 It shone till the last of the stars was gone. 
 Till the sun appear'd that beacon shone. 
 Till poor Eily felt that her watch was done 
 
 W^ith the end of the weary night.
 
 126 3Iy "Colleen Baivnr 
 
 And like that light whose hrilliaut beams 
 
 Lit Hai'dress o'er the tide, 
 My garden lamp all brightly gleams 
 For her who in my nightly dreams 
 In all her gentle beauty seems 
 
 To call me to her side. 
 
 And still that lamp its part must jilay, 
 
 And its quivering glimmer shine. 
 Till the weary eyes that watch its ray 
 Shall beam with the light of a happier day. 
 Till a wife's fond love shall find its way 
 To this lonely heart of mine.
 
 TJic Album and the Bet. 
 
 K7 
 
 THE ALBUM AND THE BET. 
 
 Little wifey, dull one day, rather seedy too, 
 
 With no parties, balls, or play, having nought to do, 
 
 Says, " 1^11 go to town to-day, and buy something new," 
 And in her own coaxing way gives a kiss or two. 
 
 Then, her seediness all gone and her dulness too. 
 
 Strange how shopping doth alone woman's strength 
 renew. 
 Forth she goes to shops well-known, wanders show- 
 rooms throug'h. 
 And at last, all tired grown, buys this album new. 
 
 And when I, my day's work done, once more wifey sec. 
 She with looks of love and fun shews the book to me, 
 
 Bets me kisses two to one, sketch and poetry. 
 
 Ere she sees to-morrow's sun, in this book will be. 
 
 Home Tve come at half-past five, tired with office work, 
 Weary, stupid, and I strive wifey's task to shirk. 
 
 But the rain prevents a diivc, so she plays the Turk, 
 Tells me I must look alive or the bet she'll burk.
 
 128 The Album and the Bet. 
 
 So with pencil I commence to concoct a verse, 
 
 Tiying" with my wandering sense to be clear and terse, 
 
 But my silence g-ives offence, wifey g-ets perverse, 
 
 Says my lines are all pretence and my conduct worse. 
 
 Frowns and pouts her pretty lips, says, " you used to 
 write 
 
 In that horrid name of Pips, and again you might," 
 In my ink the pencil dips, then turns down the light. 
 
 Pinches me with playful nips till I laugh outright. 
 
 Then my pen I throw away, much to wife's surprise. 
 So at least she seems to say with those knowing- eyes. 
 
 And with wits all g-one astray from the table rise, 
 " I have won my bet to-day," laughingly she cries. 
 
 But next day the early morn sees the task beg-un. 
 
 And within three hours of dawn all these lines are 
 done. 
 
 And the ponies too are drawn, and my bet is woDj 
 And upon my lips are borne kisses two to one.
 
 In Meuwriam. 129 
 
 IN MEMORIx\i\L 
 
 Sept. 1S64. 
 
 Poor little baby- 
 Has gone to his rest, 
 
 All sinless and pure 
 
 To his Saviour's breast, 
 
 A cherub 'mid millions 
 The happy and blest. 
 
 Thus prays his lone mother, 
 " INIny Thy will be done. 
 
 But, merciful Father, 
 When my course is run. 
 
 Oh, let me go also 
 "Where baby is gone." 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 June 1806. 
 
 One morning I was lying ill, ah, very, very ill 
 
 And a little darling baby came and nestled in my bed, 
 
 And though in pain and torture I felt a happy thrill 
 Of heavenly love and pleasure as my little babe I fed. 
 
 11
 
 130 /// Mentor iam. 
 
 How loving'ly I wateli'd her, my tender tiny pet, 
 
 And pi-ayM to God (how often) not to lot my l)irdie 
 
 For my heart had even then not Ijeen aide to forg-ot 
 Her buried baby-brother who only lived to die. 
 
 And the hours flow by so linppil}', as daily there I lay 
 With my heart so full of yearmng- to the treasure by 
 my side, 
 Only waiting for the blissful time when at the close of 
 (lay 
 I should shew her to her father with all a motticr's 
 pride. 
 
 But a day of sickness came, thou a wild and harrowin<^ 
 dream 
 Of my wee pet baby dying in ag-ony and jxain, 
 Of whispering voices round me, of one heart-breaking 
 theme, 
 The wan and wasted darliiifr I should never sec aira in.. 
 
 'J'liey told me some tinu^ after of the snd baptismal rile, 
 Of the signing of the Cross on my dying baby's brow 
 
 Ere her sinless soul departed in its early happy flight 
 To the bosom of that Saviour where she is nestling 
 now.
 
 There let my darKng^ nestle wbcre pain and sorrow 
 cease, 
 And let me strive witli Immbled pride to kiss the 
 cliasteiiing- rod, 
 That when this life is over I too may rest in peace 
 With all my dear beloved ones for ever with our God.
 
 r,H 
 
 The Great Rent Case 
 
 THE GREAT RENT CASE. 
 
 A LAY OF THE HIGH COURT IN 1865. 
 
 Dramatis Person.^. 
 
 P. COCCUS Knight, Chief Justice. 
 
 NORMNUS .. .. 
 
 MAWGNOR 
 
 FERUS BARBATUS 
 MAK FERSONIUS 
 
 TREVORUS 
 
 LOCCUS . . 
 
 BAYLIUS 
 
 GLOVA .. 
 
 STEP US.. 
 
 K EMBUS 
 
 SAMBO NIGER 
 
 CAMBELLUS 
 
 ELFIN JUKSUN 
 
 SUETONIUS KARRUS 
 
 Barrister Fuisne Judges. 
 
 ^S udder- Alia, or Suddcr Puisne Judges. 
 
 I'lDDOXTONIUS 
 
 BERNUS RUFUS 
 FENNUS . . . 
 
 f Crier of the High Court, whose business 
 I it is to sioear in people, and also to swear 
 ■^ at people for making a noise ; also to 
 I tnaintain silence, and who does so cffec- 
 L iuallg hg kicking all noisg ones out. 
 
 Badshahce Vakeels or Attornics of the 
 High Court; also '■'■broken-hearted 
 bachelors, who ptrolong their wearg 
 lives" bg residing at the Bengal Club.
 
 TJcc Great Rent Case. 
 
 V.V.'j 
 
 WATKINTNirS 
 
 HATCnUS 
 
 STACCUS 
 
 COLLIUS 
 
 AUGUSTUS \ Likewise Badshahee Vakeels. 
 
 PALI A LOGUS 
 
 GULIELMUS JUDEX . 
 
 SIMMUS 
 
 CARRA-PIETAS 
 
 GRAASIUS Advocate General. 
 
 Barviftcr, also a broken-Juartid hacltdor 
 
 EGLINTONIU 
 
 ^y ( Barntto; also a hrokeh 
 
 ^^ ( of the Beiujal Club. 
 
 JOXNI COCRANUS .. 
 DIKKI DOINIUS .. 
 JUOfJXDUS PAULUS 
 C0R1T0:XXUS . . . . 
 
 Also Barristers. 
 
 J
 
 13-1' The Great Rent Cas€. 
 
 THE GllEAT RENT CASK 
 
 A LAY OF THE HIGH COURT IN THE YEAH MDCCCLXT, 
 
 I. 
 
 IIo ! NazirSj sound your tom-toms ! 
 
 Ho ! SlierifF, clear tlie way ! 
 The Judg-es ride, in all tlieir pride. 
 
 To the High Court to-day. 
 To-day the chairs and benches 
 
 Are snatched from room and hall. 
 And still docs Piddontonius 
 
 For chairs more loudly bawl. 
 Shout ! gallant little Crier ! 
 
 Your eye-glass tightly lit, 
 Arrange your splendid Forum 
 
 So every Judge may sit. 
 Each Judge is robed in sable. 
 
 His gills flow long- and wide. 
 Like Bull-frof^ in the fable. 
 
 He swells with conscious pride — 
 
 While Hows the Hooghly llivcr. 
 While Ochterlony stands, 
 
 The largest monument we have 
 On BengaFs sultry lands ;
 
 So long- will be remomhor'cl 
 
 The dveaiy great Rent Case, 
 When fifteen Judg-es met at once 
 
 With one grave solemn face : 
 So long will be remeraber'd. 
 
 Where white ov black man treads. 
 The fifteen solemn Judgements 
 
 Of fifteen learned heads. 
 
 II, 
 
 See how the fifteen Judges 
 
 Come pouring" in amain, 
 In buggy, brougham, and brit/.lca. 
 
 Across the dusty plain. 
 From all along Chowringhee, 
 
 From far off Theatre lload. 
 From man}' a lordly mansion, 
 
 From man}' a swell abode ; 
 
 From Clubs, where hen-peck'd hushnnda 
 Find refuge from their wives, 
 
 Whore broken-hearted bachelors 
 Prolong llu'ir weary lives;
 
 I'M) The Girnt Rcui Case. 
 
 From Boebee Herring's quarters. 
 
 And Mrs. Box^s place, 
 "Where motliers teach their daughters 
 
 To flirt with fitting grace — 
 See how the fifteen Brethren 
 
 Come ilocking to the Hall ; 
 See Loccus, short and slender, 
 
 Caml)ellus, thin and tall ; 
 
 And there behold P. Coccus, 
 
 The chief of all is he — 
 P. Coccus of the subtle brain, 
 
 No subtler brain could be. 
 Of iron nerve and iron brain. 
 
 No laboxu- doth he shirk, 
 But toils and works, and toils amain. 
 
 And makes the others work. 
 Their noses to the grinding stone, 
 
 Tiie sweat upon their In'ow, 
 The Judges get no holidays, 
 
 No leave of absence now ! 
 Ah ! how they hate P. Coccus, 
 
 "Who will not let them go 
 To sniff the ocean breezes, 
 
 Of climb the hills of snow !
 
 TJic Great Rent Case. 
 
 137 
 
 Now rushes in stout Baylius, 
 
 With light aud spring-y tread, 
 As light as when, in days of old, 
 
 He danced himself to bed. 
 And here comes dear old Sterus, 
 
 Whose "cannons" are so true, 
 Who handles his "Joe Manton" 
 
 As deftly as his cue. 
 Who does not love good Sterns, 
 
 \^Tiose heai't, in simple truth. 
 Shews far less of the Sudder Judge, 
 
 Thau of warm-hearted youth ? 
 Now Suetonius Karrus, 
 
 With the fine Roman nose, 
 Chief ruler of the banquet 
 
 "Wlien Scotia's whiskey flows. 
 A hero, too, at cricket, 
 
 Of Karrus tales are told 
 How well he kept his wicket. 
 
 In the brave days of old. 
 And after him comes Trevorus, 
 
 Of gentle blood and mien. 
 Through all his long career has he 
 
 A " i^reux chevalier" been. 
 Then, arm-in-arm with Glova, 
 
 Is Elfiu Juksun seen.
 
 1<38 TJic Great Rent Case. 
 
 Now comes the kindly Normuus, 
 
 Erst acting chief was he, 
 No greater favorite anywhere 
 
 Than Normnus can be. 
 Then Mawgnor the handsome. 
 
 And Kempus, grave and glum, 
 Then, peering through his spectacles, 
 
 Doth Mak Fersonius come. 
 
 Ah, here comes Sambo Niger, 
 
 Swartb son of sultry zone. 
 As proud is he as Lucifer 
 
 Of his Judicial throne — 
 A sop to the Bengallee, 
 
 To English minds a wrench. 
 Our rulers thought it right to raise 
 
 One Native to the Bench. 
 Brown Hindustanee maidens. 
 
 While listening to the sifi-hs 
 Of Young Bengal, repeat the tale 
 
 Of Sambo Niger's rise — 
 And minstrels at the nautches, 
 
 AVhere young men take their fling. 
 To llajahs and to Ranees, 
 
 Of Saml)o's tullub sing. j 
 
 Now, making up the number, 
 
 Though last not least is he.
 
 TJic Great Rent Case. 
 
 139 
 
 With sparkling' eyes and big- black beard, 
 
 Ferus Barbatus see. 
 Of all those fifteen Brethren, 
 
 For wisdon far renown'd, 
 Ferus Barbatus was the last 
 
 Who came from English ground. 
 What though of all the junior. 
 
 Though last not least is he ; 
 The only Judge who wears a beard — 
 
 Ferus Barbatus see ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Now gathered in the Forum, 
 The fifteen Brethren meet. 
 
 And Sheriff" Collius marshals each 
 To his appointed seat. 
 
 P. Coccus and the Seniors 
 Above make lordly show. 
 
 While Ferus and the Juniors 
 Are ranged in line below. 
 
 Two goodly rows of Judges ! 
 So fine a sight, I ween.
 
 140 The Great Rent Case. 
 
 Of talent such a grand array 
 
 Is very rarely seen. 
 And while the fifteen Brethren 
 
 Are sitting there in State, 
 And to each other whispering 
 
 And holding short debate, 
 Before they give their judgments, 
 
 We'll turn, and for a space 
 Look on the crowd who gather round 
 
 To hear the great Rent Case. 
 Here mingle swell Attornies 
 
 With members of the Bar, 
 And swarthy Native pleaders. 
 
 And many a zemindar. 
 From every town and district 
 
 Which boasts the smallest Court ; 
 From paddy fields and jungle 
 
 Where snakes and jackals sport ; 
 From talook and from village 
 
 Where naked urchins play ; 
 From hut and from cutcherry 
 
 Where suitors bribe their way ; 
 From where the dirty buff'aloes 
 
 Through muddy marshes roam. 
 As greasy and as dirty 
 
 As baboos are at home ;
 
 The Great Rent Case. 
 
 \\\ 
 
 From many a " coiuitiy garden^" 
 
 From many a city slum — 
 To hear the Rent Case judgments 
 
 The swarthy Natives come. 
 Now see those Arian hiwyers, 
 
 Attornies and their clerks. 
 Who at the fifteen Brethren 
 
 Pass '^jocative" remarks. 
 While each of them is thinking" 
 
 With envy and with grief. 
 Of what his bill of costs had been 
 
 For each tremendous brief, 
 Had his old '' family Idol,'' 
 
 With oil and paint begrim. 
 Been only good enough to send 
 
 The great Rent Case to him. 
 But, ah ! whose grand red whiskers. 
 
 All fiery and a-glow. 
 Are with the punkah waving. 
 
 So gently to and fro ? 
 They point out Bernus Rufus ; 
 
 Full proud is he, I ween. 
 Of his Dundreary whiskers. 
 
 And of their ruddy sheen. 
 And there sec Watkininius, 
 
 The lord of Airy Hall,
 
 142 The Great Rent Case. 
 
 Talking- to Pallia-Logus 
 
 With most provoking" drawl; 
 For Pallia-Logus longs 
 
 To tell (so says his face) 
 Some story of his wrongs 
 
 Some injured client's case. 
 Ah, learned Watkininius, 
 
 If quickly feather^l nest 
 Were proof of far superior brain 
 
 How well youM stand the test ! 
 Oft hath blind fortune smiled. 
 
 With Buxis and Bequest 
 On you, her favorite child, 
 
 While frowning- on the rest. 
 There, too, impidsive Fennus, 
 
 Of whom the words are true, 
 " You cannot know good Fennus, 
 
 And fail to like him, too." 
 Near him stands long grey Staccus, 
 
 A Bai*rister erewhile. 
 And Collins and Augustus, 
 
 All sons of Erin's isle. 
 Now, bursting with importance. 
 
 The learned Hatchus see, 
 With Act VIII at his fingers' ends, — 
 
 A ready help is he ;
 
 The Great Rent Case. 
 
 143 
 
 On every puzzling- motion. 
 
 Or ditficult decree, 
 Hatclius is ever to the front, 
 
 Amicus curia ! 
 There Gulielmus Judex, 
 
 A veteran grey and pale, 
 Takes Simmus by the button-hole 
 
 And tells some ancient tale 
 Of what we did in former days 
 
 When Ryan was our Chief, 
 And how since those g-ood days of yore 
 
 All thing's have come to grief. 
 Here Jew-loved Carra-Pietas, 
 
 u\.rmenia^s gifted son, 
 Advises that old dirty Jew 
 
 Of business to be done. 
 Then he and Piddontonius, 
 
 (Oh, but theyVe stomachs tough !) 
 Take from that greasy Hebrew 
 
 A pinch of Jewish snufF. 
 Near them see wan Gillandus. 
 
 A good man, but so spare, 
 You'd think that a musquito^s breath 
 
 Would waft him into air. 
 There Graamus, with his calm pale face, 
 
 With Eglintonius sits.
 
 144 The Great Rent Case. 
 
 And whispers something now and then^ 
 
 And picks his brief to bits. 
 And bustling- Corritonnus 
 
 His eager fingers flips 
 To the " EnglishmanV^ chuprassee 
 
 In waiting for the 'slips/ 
 And dear old Jonni Cocranus — 
 
 Whose hearty as good as gold. 
 Still bears hira up right manfully. 
 
 As in the days of old — 
 Sits twirling round his spectacles, 
 
 And, from his numerous store. 
 Tells to his laughing listeners 
 
 Some anecdote of yore. 
 There, too, Jucundus Paulus, 
 
 With ever ready jest. 
 Cracks jokes with Dikki Doinius, 
 
 Of all the Bar the best. 
 Who, whether at the festive board 
 
 Or in forensic hall. 
 For many years has proved himself 
 
 The leader of them all. 
 But now the fifteen Brethren 
 
 Have closed their short debate. 
 And each sits grim and solemn 
 
 And shakes his learned pate.
 
 Tlie Great Rent Case. 
 
 145 
 
 Now fit your eye-glass, Crier ! 
 
 Now "Silence !" loudly shout, 
 Then tumble from your little desk 
 
 And kick the rabble out ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then first his judgment Trevorus 
 
 Kead out in language clear, 
 And such a silence then was kept 
 
 A pin^s drop you might hear. 
 He cited many authors 
 
 As ancient as the hills. 
 And quoted from the history 
 
 Of India by Mills— 
 From long forgotton statutes 
 
 Read many a dreary line, 
 AVhich seemed to unprofessionals 
 
 Like throwing pearls to swine — 
 Head Menu's regulations, 
 
 And many a puzzling clause. 
 And long and dismal doctrines 
 
 About the old rent laws. 
 01 pyhhast and of koodkJinsl ryots 
 
 The difierence did define,
 
 1-lG The Great Rent Case. 
 
 And pointed out the bearing of 
 
 Act X. of '59— 
 Head the decennial settlement. 
 
 And minutes by John Shore, 
 The laws of ancient Soubahs, 
 
 And Hea,ven knows what more ! 
 At last, when all grew weary, 
 
 And sleep proclaimed her reign. 
 Great Trevorus thought 'twas time enough 
 
 To close the lengthened strain. 
 And this is how that learned Judge 
 
 The Rent Case did decide — 
 He settled that a tenant 
 
 Who twelve years should abide 
 Upon his landlord's property 
 
 Should have an owner's right 
 To share the rent — and landlord 
 
 Should get it as he might. 
 Then Trevorus nudged stout Baylius, 
 
 Who'd been an hour aslec}). 
 And Baylius so pinch'd Loccus 
 
 As made his flesh to creep. 
 And Loccus, Baylius, Glova, 
 
 Confirming the decree. 
 Said — " With our learned Brother 
 We all of us agree."
 
 And Elfin Juksun said the same. 
 
 And with a gentle shake 
 Caused snoozing Mak Fersonius 
 
 From slumber to awake. 
 Then out spake Mak Fersonius 
 
 Of imposts and ahwahs, 
 Of nirrilcbundij tenures, 
 
 Kuhooleiits and Kincois — 
 And used such wondrous language 
 
 That gentle sleep again 
 Of every tortured listener 
 
 O'ercanie the weary brain ; 
 ■\Vhen suddenly he finishM — 
 
 " \Yith very shght demnr. 
 With learned Brother Trevorus 
 
 In substance I concur/' 
 Then spake Barbatus Ferus, 
 
 Not once asleep was he, 
 ]3ut through it all was wide awake, 
 
 As learned Judge should be ; 
 And first, like Judge at Westminster, 
 
 The facts he did relate. 
 The judgment of the lower Court, 
 
 The questions in debate — 
 Then sifted points of evidence. 
 
 Doubted if facts were clear.
 
 148 TJic Great Rent Case. 
 
 Discussed some learned questions 
 
 Which no one cared to hear — 
 Said — " Many loose admissions 
 
 Throug-hout this cause I trace^ 
 Wliich never would have been allow'd 
 
 Had I but tried the case ;" 
 And added : — " Into regions 
 
 (Where I am not at home) 
 Of novel legislation 
 
 We're here required to roam. 
 The learned Courts of Westminster 
 
 Ne'er go beyond the case, 
 'Gainst travelling from the issue 
 
 They ever set their face. 
 But in this curious country 
 
 We travel far beyond 
 The issue, till we tumble in 
 
 The slough of slieer despond ! 
 And 'tis so in this instance. 
 
 We cannot help ourselves ; 
 So I have run through all tlie books 
 
 Which ornament my shelves — 
 j And this important subject 
 
 Has met with at my hands 
 That long and grave attention 
 
 AVhich sucli a case demands,"
 
 The Great Rent Case. 
 
 149 
 
 Then argued he the matter 
 
 For half an hour and more. 
 And sleep again proclaimed her reign. 
 
 And men were heard to snore. 
 But every earthly thing must end. 
 
 All dreary though it be. 
 And Ferus was at last wound up. 
 
 And this was his decree — 
 '' While my decision with the rest 
 
 Will, in the main, agree. 
 My Brethren's notions, I confess. 
 
 Have not assisted me ; 
 And as it never is my rule. 
 
 Without some grave demur, 
 With any other learned Judge 
 
 Entirely to concur ; 
 So now, though partly I dissent, 
 
 I, on the whole, agree 
 With all those learned Judges 
 
 Who have preceded me." 
 Then with a voice sonorous 
 
 Cambellus had liis say. 
 And lethargy came o^er us. 
 
 Throughout that weary da}'. 
 " Sparc us ! Cambellus, spare us," 
 
 Was oft the mutter'd cry.
 
 I.jO TJic Great Rent Case. 
 
 As still he went on reading', 
 
 And still the hours went by. 
 But mortal is Cambellus, 
 
 He, too, wound up at last. 
 And with the others did concur, 
 
 And his decree was passM. 
 After Cambellus, Sambo, 
 
 Great Sambo Nig-er, came. 
 And, following in his Erethren^s wake. 
 
 His ruling was the same. 
 Then Mawgnor the handsome. 
 
 Then Kempus, glum and grave. 
 And Norm n us, the kind and good. 
 
 The same decision gave. 
 ■'Twould be a weary business, 
 
 ■"Twould take a day to tell 
 The stores of legal wisdom 
 
 That from those Brethren fell. 
 Then, having roused himself from sleep. 
 
 Sterns took up the cue. 
 And, with a few remarks in ])oint. 
 
 Agreed with Trevorus too — 
 " Now }iold thee, great P. Coccus, 
 
 Now yield with proper grace. 
 And join with us in one decree 
 
 In this important case.^^
 
 TJic Great Rent Case. 
 
 151 
 
 Thus spake his learned Brethren, 
 
 And all the crowd awoke, 
 "When up rose great P. Coccus 
 
 And thus the silence broke : — 
 " I must confess, in all Tve heard 
 
 From all my great compeers, 
 I have not heard one single word 
 
 To change my own ideas, 
 Or alter in the least degree 
 
 Opinions I express\l. 
 When, in the case of Isliur Ghose, 
 
 I differ^l from the rest. 
 1^11 add that in sincerity 
 
 Most wanting I should be, 
 If, for the sake of courtesy, 
 
 I now with them agree ; 
 Or for a moment were to say 
 
 I entertain a douljt. 
 From anything I^ve heard to-day, 
 
 That I am right throughout." 
 Then went he through his reasons, 
 
 But long before he'd done 
 The crowd had all departed. 
 
 The Judges were alone ! 
 And Piddontonius gently fell 
 
 Into a state of doze,
 
 152 The Great Rent Case. 
 
 Now scrateliing of his forehead, 
 
 Now fiug-enng his uose. 
 And soon it was throughout the town 
 
 By all the people known 
 That in the Rent Case judgments 
 
 P. Coccus was alone ! 
 
 V. 
 
 All through the dull hot weather, 
 
 When the Nor'- Westers blow, 
 And down the throat the maugo-fish 
 
 AVith simkin glibly go — 
 When in his fine verandah 
 
 The money-making swell 
 Sits chatting with the pretty wife, 
 
 The wife he loves so well — 
 And through the bright cold season, 
 
 And through the wretched rains, 
 In eountr}^ town, and village. 
 
 O'er all these dreary jilains, 
 When the chandeliers shine brightly 
 
 Or the small chirag is lit.
 
 The Great Ren I Case. 
 
 153 
 
 And when about our g-avdens 
 
 The h'ltle fireflies flit- 
 In Coni-t and in Cutelierry 
 
 Where Bar and Judges strut. 
 In Club and loi'dly mansion, 
 
 In dwelling-house and hut. 
 When jaelcals howl around us, 
 
 And the musquito^s hum 
 Tells that a much more worrying brute 
 
 To bother us has come — 
 At dances and at nautches, 
 
 ""Mid halls of dazzling light. 
 At weary burra khanas. 
 
 Or Christy Minstrels^ night — • 
 Of the great Rent Case the story 
 
 Full often will be told, 
 IIow Judge P. Coccus stood alone, 
 
 I3y all his Brethren sold !
 
 15l< Tlu Calcutta Race-Course. 
 
 THE CALCUTTA RACE-COURSE. 
 # Past and Present. 
 
 " Come, ^ood friend Pijis, now tell us/' siiid Charlie 
 Hart to me, 
 
 As we waited in the Stewards' Stand the hurdle-race 
 to see, 
 
 " Say, who's that tall g-rey-headed man full higher by 
 a head 
 
 Than any six-foot man I sec, there standing- bv the 
 shed T' 
 
 That son of Anak, Charlie, is the Nestor of our turf. 
 Whose iron frame still laughs at time as rocks defy the 
 surf, 
 
 A g-lance at him recalls the sport of many a year ag-o. 
 
 When Elepoo came thundering by like arjow from a 
 bow. 
 
 That fine old sportsman, Charlie, the fearful crash did 
 
 see. 
 
 When the English horse " Lieutenant" and the Arab 
 " Absentee"
 
 TJic Calcutta Racc-Cojirsc. 
 
 155 
 
 Were neck and neck tog-ether and the loose horpe 'gainst 
 
 them tore 
 And " Lieutenant^s^' jockey, Hardy, was thrown to rise 
 
 no more.* 
 
 He can tell you of the time when the great Fieschi ran^ 
 And Robert Koss, in green and white, was ever in the 
 
 van — 
 Of five close heats he once saw run by Crab and Oran- 
 
 more. 
 The gamest struggle ever seen upon a course before. f 
 
 He could tell you of the wondrous stride of his own 
 
 Elepoo, 
 The tallest, fastest Arab Calcutta ever knew — 
 There were good horses in those days, as he can well 
 
 recall. 
 But Barker upon Elepoo, hands down, shot by them all ! 
 
 * The two horses were racing together when the loose horse ran 
 against them and tlie whole three came to the ground with frightl'iil 
 violence — Hardy was kill'd on the spot — "Lieutenant" was so nni<;]i 
 injured that he was at once shot — and I do not tliink 'Absentee' ever 
 gallop'd again. 
 
 t (-rab and Oranmore — two Arabs — ran five heats — each M'inning 
 one, and there heing two dead heats, they were obliged to run tlic tiftli 
 heat, which Crab won.
 
 150 The Calcutta Racc-Coitrsc. 
 
 And talking- thus of Mv. Jones,* I saw with dreamy eye 
 Upon the old Calcutta Course a string* of nags go by — ■ 
 There Corriemonie gallop'd past with Frampton on his 
 
 back, 
 And long thin Hall and Sweetlips tore like mad upon 
 
 their track. 
 
 And Gash, that cruel punisher, when on a jaded horse, 
 (Few men could ply both whip and spur with such 
 
 tremendous force) 
 Went pounding by on Snowball, the pet of Hardwick's 
 
 stud,t 
 And with him steady Koostum steer'd a colt of desert 
 
 blood 
 
 Then the Island-Childe and INIinuet, Crab, Glaucus, 
 
 Boomerang, 
 Sent the dust all flying round them as to the spur they 
 
 sprang. 
 Next Evans upon Wahaby, and Barker on boy Jones 
 Of two raw-bony Walers " made no especial bones" J — 
 
 * Mr. Jones — the racing cognomen of Elcpoo's owner. 
 
 t Gash came to a dreadlul end in Jessore <>r Kishnaghur. He was 
 riding home one night when he was very drunk. He fell from his 
 horse, and in his helpless state was killed and half-eaten by jackals. 
 
 X Barker said, on one occasion when he was ask'd about two Walers 
 he bad to ride against, " well, Sir, I don't know, but I will make no 
 special hones of them."
 
 Then the gallant chesnut Selim, the first of Waler 
 
 fame. 
 Passing everything before him, like a flash of lightning 
 
 came — 
 And rattling fast behind him with Joy upon his 
 
 back 
 Came Mr. Charles^ Ishmael, another Derby crack. 
 
 But now the hurdle-race begins and my short dream 
 
 is o'er, 
 And when the race is o'er friend Charlie asks once 
 
 raoi'e — 
 " Say, Pips, who is that tall thin man with grey hair 
 
 on his brow. 
 There trotting by on that bay horse, who started them 
 
 just now ?" 
 
 That fine tall fellow, Charlie, has been starter here for 
 
 years, 
 And his management of Com'se and Stand his name 
 
 to us endears. 
 And for his sake we're glad to think that Wallace 
 
 leaves us soon 
 To find new health and strength among the braes of 
 
 Bonnie Doon.
 
 158 The Calcutta Racc-Coiirsc. 
 
 He^Il tell you how the Country -breds, seen on this course 
 
 no more, 
 Could carry in the days of old their colors to the fore, 
 He'll tell you, no maji better, how to rear and keep a 
 
 stud 
 Of Arabs, Walers, Country-breds, or any kind of blood. 
 
 With sportsman's pleasure he recalls his chesnut marc^ 
 Grace Lee, 
 
 Who won the great Colonial in the season — fifty-three. 
 
 And how his mare, Meg Merrilies, in the season — 
 fifty-eight 
 
 And fifty-nine, and following year, bore off the Mer- 
 chants' Plate — 
 
 " Now who is he who saunters by as fresh as morning air. 
 
 And nods to every passer-by, so cool, so debonair, 
 
 So closely shaved, so well got up, now who may that 
 
 man be?'' 
 Thus Charlie Hart with curious look did once more 
 
 question me. 
 
 " To see that man and not know him argues yourself 
 
 unknown. 
 As good a chap as ever breathed, a sportsman to tlio 
 
 bone.
 
 Who takes tbe ups and downs of life without a thought 
 of care, 
 
 At Club, or Race-course, social board, a favourite every- 
 where — 
 
 No heartier welcome ever ranq- on winning- owner's ears 
 Than that thrice echoed welcome when the welkin rang- 
 
 with cheers, 
 "When ^ Famine' won the Derby in eighteen fifty-two, 
 And cheers went up for Famine and Charlie Marten too'/' 
 
 " Now once more, Pips, forget the past, and tell us who 
 
 they be 
 Who stand among the horses there collected round that 
 
 tree ?" 
 I turn'd and look'd, and Monty stood amid his Arab 
 
 pets 
 And with friend Pritchard shew'd their points to two 
 
 admiring Yets. 
 
 And ha])py as a king he'll be that sportsman good as 
 
 gold, 
 (Altho' it seems hard lines to him that Hermit should 
 
 grow old) 
 If he can only hit upon some little Arab pet 
 That will answer all his yearnings and win the Derby yet. 
 
 *
 
 And sec that tall o-ood-lookinq- man, a sol tiler ever v iiir-li, 
 Who from the trench, the nj^-ht, the march, was never 
 
 known to flinch, 
 At Inkcrman^s stern " soldiers^ fight," on Delhi's blood- 
 
 staJn\l plain, 
 A& cool as on the crieket-g-ronnd was ever Seymour Blanc. 
 
 In the receipt of Customs friend Crawford long- has been 
 A hrst-rate man in oflicc, a. sportsman true and keen 
 Whose quick unerring eye can spot the winner by a nose, 
 And from w1k)!>c honest heart no thought save that of 
 honor flows. 
 
 And with them stands a well-known son of Sligo's 
 
 lordly line 
 Whose well-earned fame 'mongst sporting men rccpiires 
 
 no praise of mine. 
 And naming him the Stewards' list"^' I've closed — and for 
 
 to-day 
 I think that for the " Sporting ]\Iag." I've done enough, 
 
 you'll say. 
 
 * Stewards in ISGG— Beckwitli (/. e. 'Mr. Jones'), Wm11,i(i', Crawford 
 Martcu, M0UI3 Tunibull, Lord Ulick Browne, and Col. lilune.
 
 "WRITE, SPORTSMEN, WRITE. 
 
 WllITTEN FOR THE ^ORIENTAL SpORTlNG MaGAZINE/ 
 
 Write, gallant sportsman, write 
 Of the sport which you have seen. 
 
 Let the fun you^ve witnessM see the light 
 In the " Sporting Magazine/' 
 
 Write of that rattling burst 
 
 When the jackall broke away 
 At such a pace from the first 
 
 That few of the nags could stay. 
 Tell us, how pumpM of breath, 
 
 Your Arab terribly blown. 
 You floundered in at the death 
 
 Yourself and the huntsman alone. 
 
 Tell of the tiger's roar 
 
 As he bounded into " the clear,'' 
 Of the twenty bullets and more 
 
 That stopp'd his wild career; 
 Or write of the charging boar 
 
 Which flush'd youi' maiden spear. 
 As you rode with three or four 
 
 AYithout a thought of fear.
 
 1G2 " Write, Sportsmen, Writer 
 
 Let^s hear of that buffalo ride 
 
 "When you rode the big bull to a stand, 
 After chasing" him stride for stride 
 
 Over miles of broken land, 
 Of each shot that crash^l through his side 
 
 And dyed with blood the strand. 
 How he reel'd, and fell, and died 
 
 A prey to a sportsmau^'s hand. 
 
 Or tell of that ' mugger' fierce. 
 
 The terror of all around, 
 Whose sides no bullet could pierce 
 
 Till you appeared on the ground ; 
 How your small exploding shell 
 
 Went bang from its rifled bore. 
 And burst in his side so well — 
 
 That '^ mugger" was foar'd no more. 
 
 Let us hear of that glorious sport. 
 
 The elephant hunt on foot. 
 Where nature's great lesson is taught — 
 
 The triumph of man o'er the brute ; 
 Or tell us some stoiy of Home 
 
 When after a wearisome " cram," 
 You have steer'd a swift yacht through the foam 
 
 Or pulFd a stroke oar on the Cam.
 
 " Write, Sportsmen, Write." 163 
 
 Or write of the wicket kept 
 
 Till a hundred and ten were scored. 
 And how the slow twister crept 
 
 Into stumps not easily floored ; 
 Or tell how the snipe went down 
 
 To the tune of forty brace. 
 And how you earned the renown 
 
 Of being " best shot" in the place. 
 
 Or tell of that triumph of nerve 
 
 When you held the young Waler so straiglit, 
 That in spite all his dodges to swerve 
 
 You rode him clean over the gate ; 
 Or send an account of the race 
 
 When your game little Arab was pass\l. 
 After going all round at a pace 
 
 At which Hermit himself couldn^t last. 
 
 Or narrate us some w^onderful luck. 
 
 When out after wild duck or goose, 
 You brought down a jolly black buck 
 
 As big as a Canada moose ; 
 Or write of the grouse on the moors. 
 
 Of the great antler'd king of the glen, 
 Of your lion hunt out with the boors 
 
 When you bearded the beast in his den ;
 
 16i " Write, Sportsmen, Write."' 
 
 Or tell of your race-meeting ball, 
 
 Oi' the picnic the following- day. 
 Of the stroll round the g-reat waterfall. 
 
 Where the g-irls had it all their own way : 
 Aye, write of the eyes whose brig-ht beams 
 
 Went straight to your heart with such power 
 That all your day thoughts and your dreams 
 
 Have been of those eyes since that hour. 
 
 Or write of that growling old bear 
 
 "Which bolted straight out of the bush, 
 ("When the beaters dis-coverM his lair) 
 
 And came down the hill with a rush; 
 How, when only half-way down the hill 
 
 On his hind legs a moment he stood. 
 You sent him an opening pill 
 
 AVl.ich sto^ p^d all his growling for good. 
 
 Come tell us some story of pluck, 
 
 Of steadiness, patience, or skill. 
 Of games won by science or luck — 
 
 Of anything else that you will ; 
 Of the triumphs of rod or of gun, 
 
 Of saddle, oar, bat, or of spear. 
 Even give us some story of fun 
 
 For I'un is a welcome guest here.
 
 THE GREAT DURBAR. 
 
 A Modern Lay. 
 
 I. 
 
 Jan Laerens of Calcutta, 
 
 Chief Knight of Indians Star, 
 Has sworn by all the Hindoo g'ods 
 
 He^ll hold a Grand Durbar, 
 By Gunga^s stream he swore it 
 
 And named at once the day. 
 Then bade his Aides-de-Camp go forth. 
 East, and west, and south, and north. 
 
 To summon the array. 
 
 East, and west, and south, and north. 
 
 The Aides-de-Camp ride fust; 
 All over Upper India 
 
 Their summonses are cast. 
 Kennedius spurs his chesnut, 
 
 Lokwodius crams his grey, 
 Randalius cheers his Arab on 
 
 All through the livelong day.
 
 ](iO The Great Durbar. 
 
 See how the perspinition 
 
 Pours clowu Kennedius' face ! 
 It trickles o'er his bran-new coat 
 
 And damages the hiee. 
 And still he gallojis onward^ 
 
 Nor halts except to beg" 
 The way to some great Rajah's hold. 
 
 Or else to get a peg. 
 
 North, and south, and east, and west. 
 
 Like couriers bold they ride. 
 And with Jan Larrens' summonses 
 
 They scour the country wide. 
 Shame on each sulky llajah 
 
 Who hides himself afar ; 
 Who stays among his dancing girls. 
 And, warrior there, all fiercely twirls 
 His black moustache in warlike ciu'ls. 
 
 And laughs at the Durbar. 
 
 And now the loj'^al chieftains 
 
 Are pouring in amain. 
 And noise and. dust are rampant 
 
 On Agra's sun-burnt plain. 
 Cream-coloured horses amble by, 
 
 And painted tattoos prance.
 
 Tlie Great Durbar. 1G7 
 
 Spur'd on by Mahavajalis bold. 
 In blue and silver, green and gold, 
 With Caslimere shawls in many a fold. 
 And jewels rare of price untold, — 
 And armM, as were their sires of old. 
 
 With matchlock, sword, and lance ; 
 
 And all around in wondering trance 
 Upon " Barbaric pearl and gokV'' 
 
 The English eye may glance. 
 
 The horsemen and the footmen 
 
 Are gathering fast around. 
 And elephants and camels 
 
 Swarm thickly o'er the ground. 
 Tagrag and bobtail everywhere 
 
 Half wild from heat and bhang. 
 And horses with their trappings rare 
 Of tigers' skins and tufts of hair. 
 And men resplendent in the glare 
 Of rainbow-colour'd satin, share 
 The wondering gaze and furious stare 
 Of many an Anglo-Saxon there ; 
 The while, all through the startled air; 
 
 The noisy tom-toms clang. 
 
 See on yon dirty camel 
 A llajah so obese.
 
 168 Tlic Great Durbar. 
 
 He looks as thoug-h he ne'er was fed 
 Ou aught save ghee and grease ; 
 
 And on that sleepy elephant, 
 Cross-leggM, and, oh, so fat. 
 
 Two sirdars roll like porpoises. 
 Now this side, now on that. 
 
 Again, on that white charg-er 
 
 Painted with spots of red 
 With mane and tail all scarlet 
 
 Red plumes upon his head : 
 Squeezed in by panting footmen. 
 
 Clinging to tail and sides. 
 There goes some swell with legs so thin 
 So wondrous straight from hip to shin. 
 That each would answer for a pin. 
 And yet 'twould be almost a sin 
 To greet that warrior with a grin. 
 
 So scornfully he rides. 
 
 And there a big Paharry, 
 
 Swollen with rage and pride. 
 
 Who cannot sit upright or straight. 
 
 His elephant's unwieldy gait 
 Rolls him from side to side. 
 
 And on a camel trotting by. 
 
 All pale his cheek and wild his eye.
 
 The Great Dtirbar. 
 
 169 
 
 Now bwmpM below, now tossed up high, 
 With fright his very blood is dry, 
 
 A Rajah from Ehopal; 
 And in a bullock-bandy drives. 
 Surrounded by her sister wives. 
 
 His dusky Noormahal. 
 
 From far off Central India, 
 
 Where Tantia Topee fought ; 
 From many a sandy district, 
 
 From many a stony ghaut ; 
 From the land of the five rivers. 
 
 From the gardens of Cashmere, 
 From many a bower of roses 
 
 On the banks of Bendemeer. 
 
 From Joudh pore's sunny regions. 
 
 From TJlwar and Mar war. 
 From Rajpootana's deserts. 
 
 From Bhurtpore and Narwar ; 
 Pathan, and Jat, and Rajpoot, 
 
 And Jogee from- Hurdwar ; 
 The swaggering Sikh, the Chief from Oudo ; 
 All shouting, bawling, talking loud, 
 Hindu and JNIoslem swell the crowd 
 
 To join the great Durbar. 
 
 w
 
 Even from hot Calcutta 
 
 The oily Rajahs come. 
 And as they pass you shut your nose 
 
 With finger and with thumb ; 
 And noisier still and noisier 
 
 The throng-ing" crowd becomes — . 
 And louder still and still more loud 
 
 The tom-toms, horns, and drums, 
 As to the spot where lies his tent. 
 
 Each swarthy chieftain comes. 
 
 And at the Railway Station, 
 
 ^Midst goods heaped pile on pile. 
 Are crowds of Anglo-Saxons 
 
 Half-dead from dust and bile. 
 There beggar jostles gentle. 
 
 There haut-ton and canaille. 
 The lower class, the upper crust. 
 The swindler, and the dealer just. 
 The man who swells about on trust, 
 The " cove as wants his luggage fust. 
 The swell whose carpet l^ag is bust. 
 All yield to smoke, and heat, and dust. 
 And find that to " get on" they must 
 
 All fraternise awhile. 
 
 »
 
 TJie Great Durbar. 171 
 
 So through the streets of Agra 
 
 Are tumult, dust, and noise, 
 A surging tide of restless men 
 
 Of women and of boys. 
 And all along the Jumna, 
 
 On both banks, near and far. 
 Flock in the crowds at Indian fairs. 
 The boothmen with their tawdry wares, 
 The monkeys, fakirs, dancing bears. 
 And Dick-po conjurers in pairs. 
 With strings of cast-off stud-bred mares. 
 
 Come to the great Durbar. 
 
 Now all through Agra^'s city. 
 
 O'er all her suburbs round. 
 No empty house or tent is seen, 
 
 Nor one clear spot of ground. 
 Within, without, for miles about, 
 
 'Tis one vast close array, — 
 A proud man is Jan Larrens 
 
 Upon the Durbar day.
 
 II. 
 
 Now, gims, boom forth your welcome ; 
 
 Now, soldiers, clear the way ; 
 Rajahs will come with beat of drum 
 
 To the Durbar to-day. 
 
 Truly a wondrous o-athering- 
 
 Doth Agra see to-day 
 Of India's best and bravest chiefs 
 
 Who own Victoria's sway. 
 All flocking to the tented camp 
 
 Where England's banner flies, 
 Where great Jan Larrens will receive 
 
 His subjects and allies. 
 
 There gleaming in the sunlight. 
 
 Which evermore doth flash 
 On gold and silver, brass and steel. 
 
 Ten thousand horsemen dash. 
 Their leaders in chain armour, 
 
 And silks of many a fold. 
 With sabre, spear, and shield appear. 
 
 Like Saracens of old.
 
 And long"^ long lines of footmen 
 Whole regiments revenl. 
 
 Above whose heads the bayonets 
 Glisten in waves of steel. 
 
 Tall are the fierce wild elephants 
 
 That roam through Oude's Terai, 
 But taller far the tuskers 
 
 That here come trooping by, — 
 Proud of their gorgeous trappings. 
 
 Proud of this show and state, 
 Proud of their ivory howdahs. 
 
 And of their royal freight. 
 
 And splendid too the donkeys. 
 
 The zebras, asses, mules. 
 You see all over Egypt 
 
 Where'er the Pacha rules. 
 But finer are the asses 
 
 The Prophet's followers ride. 
 Which pick their way throughout the day 
 Through all this crowded close array, 
 W^ith switching tail and nasal bray, 
 
 From morn to eventide.
 
 Here scores of silver tonjons 
 
 Are borne by dusky slaves. 
 Surrounded by a shouting train. 
 
 With flag's and silver staves. 
 While o'er each silver tonjon 
 
 A g-old umbrella gleams. 
 And fans of silver, waved inside, 
 
 Flash back the sun's bright beams. 
 
 Grand are the hunchbacked camels 
 
 That plod to Mecca's shrine, 
 Or bring through Affghan passes 
 
 Their loads of fruit and wine. 
 But Mecca's weary pilgrims 
 
 Must go on foot this year. 
 And caravans must wait awhile. 
 Though wares are ready, pile on pile, 
 Ere they can creep in lengtheu'd fde, 
 For many a day, for many a mile. 
 O'er mountain pass, through grim defile,- 
 
 The camels all are here. 
 All jauntily they trot along 
 
 With noses high and proud ; 
 Their silver bells upon the air 
 
 Ring merrily and loud.
 
 Far as the eye can wander, 
 
 Far as the sig-ht can go, 
 Are gold and silver everywhere, 
 Banners, flags, streamers, in the air, 
 
 And weapons bright below. 
 
 So through and all round Agra, 
 
 From suburbs near and far, 
 With clash of cymbal, horn, and drum, 
 With a vast crowd's discordant hum. 
 The swarthy chiefs and followers come 
 To the great Camp where, grim and glum, 
 
 Jan Larrens holds Durbar. 
 
 III. 
 
 Within a large wide street of tents 
 
 A centre tent is spread, 
 Wliich shines conspicuous of them all 
 
 In brilliant folds of red. 
 And scarlet-coated jemadars 
 
 Rush wildly to and fro ; 
 And England's banner floats above 
 
 WTiere sentries pace below.
 
 176 
 
 Tlie Gnat Durbar: 
 
 A lofty sliam'^eaTia 
 
 Leads to the royal tent. 
 Through which long rows of flowers 
 
 Diffuse a grateful scent. 
 There, too, the guard of honour 
 
 And English troopers stand. 
 And sweet soul-stirring music 
 
 Steals from the Rifles' band. 
 
 Outside, grim sons of Anak 
 
 Stiff' in their saddles sit. 
 Each war-horse like a statue stands 
 
 Nor scarcely champs his bit. 
 AVell may the Saxon lounger 
 
 Stay here awhile and gaze. 
 With swelling heart and kindling eye. 
 
 On England's noble « Bays/' 
 
 Beyond, for nearly half a mile. 
 
 Extends the " thin red line'' 
 Of British troops, above whose heads 
 
 The glistening bayonets shine ; 
 And at the end, on either side 
 
 Of that long soldier street. 
 Big guns are ranged in readiness 
 
 The loyal chiefs to greet.
 
 TJic Great Durbar. 
 
 177 
 
 Upon a golden dais 
 
 Within the royal tent 
 Is placed a throne on which rupees 
 
 By thousands have been spent. 
 A kinkhob draped above it. 
 
 All brig-ht with g-olden sheen, — 
 That throne is for the Viceroy 
 
 Of mighty England^s Queen. 
 
 And in a semicircle, 
 
 On both sides of the throne. 
 Are soft red-cushioned chairs of state 
 
 Reserved for Chiefs alone. 
 Next these appear the Governors, 
 
 Jan Larrens^ satraps true, 
 Who seem uneasy in their minds. 
 
 As great men often do. 
 There sits the stalwart Governor 
 
 Of Bengal's sensual race. 
 And lines of care and trouble 
 
 Furrow his calm pale face. 
 Next them the High Court Judges, — 
 
 Whom most do girls admire. 
 Those who are dressM in scarlet robes 
 
 Or those in Court attire ? 
 
 X
 
 178 TJte Great Durbar. 
 
 There Giilielmus Vindex, 
 
 The C.-in-C, reclines. 
 So jealous of his pickles, 
 
 His mutton, and his wines. 
 Even now may be he^s thinking 
 
 Of sauces, fruits, and jams. 
 Which disappear'd like winking 
 
 With potted meats and hams. 
 When Jervis was his butler. 
 
 As Aides-de-Camp must be, 
 Who on the staff of such a chief 
 
 Themselves may wish to see. 
 
 And next the grave Politicals, 
 
 With wan and anxious air. 
 Who seem to look as though they would 
 
 Much rather not be there. 
 And Secretaries wearing swords 
 
 They know not how to wear. 
 Beyond, most pleasant sight of all. 
 
 Are English ladies seen. 
 Clothed like a gorgeous flower-bed 
 
 In every hue and sheen. 
 Gay is the Doorga Poojah, 
 
 The Bukree Eed is gay.
 
 The Great Durbar. 179 
 
 But this Durbar will be by far 
 All India's brightest day. 
 
 And now a booming salvo, 
 
 A loud crash from the band, 
 And in the shameeana 
 
 Scindia is seen to stand. 
 At once a grave official 
 
 Sinks down on bended knee 
 And to that haughty chieftain 
 
 Offers a bowl of ghee. 
 Then doth a swell in new court-dress 
 
 And sword and lace and ruff, 
 With bow and scrape and courtly speech. 
 
 Hand him a pinch of snuff. 
 
 Another stiff Political, 
 
 Of courteous mien and air, 
 Leads Scindia through the royal tent. 
 
 And seats him in his chair. 
 And gracefully Kennedius, 
 
 As agile as a fawn. 
 Glides quickly up and gives the Chief 
 
 His atta and his pawn.
 
 180 The (jircit Durbar. 
 
 Again a crash of music, 
 
 And 'mid the joyous din, 
 JeypoiVs great Rajah, quaintly dress'd, 
 • Is likewise ushered in. 
 The ladies raise their wondering eyes, 
 
 " Sure never man was seen, 
 "With legs so like two walking sticks. 
 
 And such a crinoline !" 
 Painful are his attempts to walk 
 
 With dignity and grace. 
 As with that loop'd-up mass in front 
 
 He waddles to his place. 
 And hard Randalius finds it 
 
 To look demure the while 
 He sprinkles atta o'er the Chief 
 And sees him chew the fresh pawn-leaf, 
 Then with a sigh of deep relief 
 
 He turns away to smile. 
 
 Another thin-legg'd Chieftain 
 
 Doth presently appear. 
 Swathed round in folds of crinoline, 
 AVhose wondrous legs, so long and lean, 
 Are cased in pants of satin green ; 
 And in that swaggering Chief is seen 
 
 A Kajah from Ajmere.
 
 The Great Durbar. 181 
 
 To him two willing Aides'de-Camp 
 
 Offer, with courtly bow. 
 Two nicely wrappM-up bits of pawn — 
 
 And red as Ocean^s scarlet spawn. 
 Aye, redder than red lobster-prawn, 
 
 Are Ajmere's white teeth now. 
 And swollen is his whislcer'd cheek 
 
 On each side of his face ; 
 Vainly his thanks he tries to speak 
 While those two Aides-de-Camp, so meek, 
 
 Conduct him to his place. 
 
 But, hark, a whisper runs along — 
 
 " A lady in the hall \" 
 And there in all her beauty stands 
 
 The Begum of Bhopal. 
 To her do two officials 
 
 Offer on bended knee. 
 Two silver salvers loaded 
 
 With sweetmeats, dhall, and ghee. 
 Sweet was the barley-sugar 
 
 And good the Boney^s ribs 
 We got at school when youngsters 
 
 By saving up our dibs. 
 But sweeter arc the condiments. 
 
 Aye, nicer far thau all,
 
 18^ TJie Great Durbar. 
 
 With which that day Jan Larrens fed 
 
 The Begum of Bhopal ! 
 Thea do two great Politicals, — 
 
 Ah, 'twas a merry sight, — 
 Kiss both cheeks of the Begum, 
 
 The left cheek and the right. 
 Then arm-in-arm they lead her 
 
 And place her in her chair. 
 And smooth her rumpled petticoats 
 
 While she smooths down her hair. 
 And finally Lokwodius, 
 
 With homage in his eyes. 
 Unto that noble Begum 
 
 Atta and pawn supplies. 
 And BhopaFs teeth are scarlet now. 
 
 Her pouting lips are red, — 
 Red as those gorgeous hues that we 
 May trace 'neath Oman's glittering sea. 
 
 Above each coral bed ! 
 
 And thus the Chieftains gather. 
 
 And thus the time is spent. 
 Till all who have admittance 
 
 Are ranged within the tent. 
 And then throughout the tent no sound 
 
 Upon the air is borne.
 
 Save the whispering- of the ladies, 
 The chewing of the pawn. 
 
 And now a royal salvo, 
 
 And bands are played and trumpets pealM^ 
 And at the entrance of the tent 
 
 Jan Larrens stands reveaFd. 
 Slowly he paces to the throne 
 
 And for a while sits down, 
 His careworn forehead now unbent, 
 
 Now changing to a frown ; 
 Then, when the bands have ceased to play, 
 
 He stands erect and proud, 
 And, turning to the chiefs, doth say, 
 
 In language clear and loud, — 
 
 " Rajahs and Chiefs, you^-e welcome here ; 
 
 In me your Queen you see : 
 She bids me offer royal cheer 
 
 To all who loyal be. 
 My swarthy friends, improve your codes. 
 
 And through your own domains 
 Dig wells, build schools, make pucka road 
 
 And irrigate your plains.
 
 is I. The (ircat Durbar. 
 
 In olden days your sires were rude, 
 
 Your countries torn by strife. 
 Your laws unjust, your customs crude. 
 
 Your lands with pillage rife. 
 But now you're under one g-reat Queen, 
 
 One wise and peaceful rule. 
 And he who would my smiles obtain 
 
 Must drop the olden school. 
 YouVe time in plenty, money too : 
 
 Be good and peaceful now. 
 And try your people's love to share 
 By mingling with them everywhere. 
 Their happiness your constant care. 
 And soon a worthier name you'll bear. 
 Worthy of that old Patriarch there. 
 
 The hoary Satamow.'^ 
 
 This speech delivered — Scindia stands. 
 
 With haught}- looks, alone. 
 And, bowing to Jan Larrens, hands 
 
 An offering to the throne — 
 Ten bright and newly -coin'd gold mohuvs 
 
 In bits of satin rolled, 
 Jan Larrens taps the profTerr'd gift. 
 
 Then hauJs him back his gold.
 
 TJic Great Durbar. 
 
 185 
 
 And gives him two fine elephants 
 
 Of wondrous height and strength. 
 Each with a pair of ivory tusks 
 
 Full twenty feet in length ; 
 A pair of milk-white horses 
 
 Bespotted red and blue ; 
 And fifty trays of sweetmeats 
 
 And gems of every hue. 
 Then o'er the Maharajah throws 
 
 In many a graceful fold, 
 A robe of satin velvet 
 
 All glittering with gold. 
 
 Jeypore comes next, and docs the same. 
 
 And meets the same return ; 
 How easily do Native Chiefs 
 
 Their much loved presents earn. 
 But some, alas ! are far too poor. 
 
 And from their squander^! store 
 They cannot, scrape however they may, 
 
 Give more than one gold mohur. 
 Yet these are treated handsomely. 
 
 For by all Durbar rules, 
 A chief who ofters one gold molun- 
 
 Gets back a pair of mules.
 
 J so ■ The Great Durbar. 
 
 Now, leaning- on Kennedius' arm, 
 
 The Beg-um of Bliopal 
 Presents lier humble nuzzur 
 
 And smiles upon them all. 
 Jan Larrens doth that nuzzur touch 
 
 With soft respectful tap. 
 Then trinkets by the dozen 
 
 He pours iilto her lap. 
 Gives her two noble elephants. 
 
 Two horses spotted g-reen. 
 And hands her with the khilhit 
 
 A handsome crinoline ! 
 
 Ah, why doth bold Kennedius 
 
 With such wild frenzy start? 
 A thrill of maddening passion 
 Shoots to his youthful heart. 
 As on his arms that Indian Queen 
 So pleased, so lovingly, doth lean. 
 While o'er her robes of gold and green 
 Sways to and fro the crinoline. 
 Oh, sorrowful the task hath been 
 To draw a veil o'er that sad scene, — 
 To stay the pen, to hush the tongue. 
 O'er blighted hopes in one so young!
 
 Ah ! who can write of lover's tears ? 
 Slowly he leads her to her chair, 
 Then with one long bewildering stare 
 
 He turns and disappears. 
 
 When all are thus presented. 
 
 And all have gifts received, 
 Jan Larrens' weary face begins 
 
 To look somewhat relieved. 
 He rises from his velvet throne 
 
 And cavalierly trips 
 To where the Begum in her chair 
 Sits cross-legg'd with a weary air, 
 
 And sweet jelaibee sips. 
 Then hands her gently to the floor. 
 And bowing like a troubadour 
 Or gallant knight in days of yore, 
 
 Salutes her scarlet lips. 
 Then as a parting compliment 
 
 To Scindia and Bhopal, 
 He hands to each a fresh pawn -leaf 
 
 And leaves the tented hall. 
 
 Again th(! bands all loudly crash, 
 Again the big guns roar,
 
 IS 8 The Great Durbar. 
 
 The g-Hstening bayonets brig-litly flash, 
 Like spirits wild the troopers rash 
 O'er crowds of footmen wildly dash, 
 And 'mid a dreadful noisy smash 
 The big Durbar is o'er. 
 
 And through the heat of summer. 
 
 Warm night and sultry day. 
 While Brahmins teach the girls to love 
 
 And Hindu youths to pray ; 
 When, through the Rajah's palace, 
 
 Or in the poor man's hut, 
 Against the winds of winter 
 
 The doors are closely shut ; 
 When in his close Zenana 
 
 The Indian swell reclines. 
 And smokes the bubbling hookah 
 
 And quaffs forbidden wines ; 
 And when in dufter-khanah 
 
 Lall-puggree counts the gains 
 He made from swarthy Chieftains 
 
 On Agra's sun-burnt plains ; 
 When the ryot drives the bullock, 
 
 And twists his broken tail ; 
 When Hindu maidens seek their loves. 
 
 And old crones fiercely rail ;
 
 The Great Ditrbar. 189 
 
 When at the Doorga Poojjih, 
 
 And through the Bukree Eed, 
 The priests tell tales of heroes 
 
 Renowned in Eastern creed ; 
 When the woman cooks the curry, 
 
 And piles it on the rice ; 
 And the baboo and the labourer 
 
 Alike count up their pice, — 
 In every home in Agra^ 
 
 In many a place afar, 
 They^ll tell the tale of that day when 
 
 Jan Larrens held Durbar.
 
 31)0 Paradise and iJic Pcckr. 
 
 PARADISE AND THE PEELER. 
 
 When the Eden Gardens in Calcutta had been altered and very 
 much improved and were about to be thrown open to the public, 
 the Comuiissiuner of Police issued an order that no one should be 
 admitted vfithout a pass to be signed by himself, and he reserved to 
 himself the liberty of withdrawing any such pass without stating any 
 i-cason for so doing. Tlie public were furious at this, and protests 
 and letters appeared daily in the i)aper8, but it was reserved for this 
 squib to be the last feather that broke the camel's back. On the day 
 on which this squib appeared in the Englishman the obnoxious order 
 was withdrawn. 
 
 One eve a Peeler at the gate 
 Of Eden stood disconsolate ; 
 And, as he listcn'd to the band, 
 
 AYhich playM within, the music Ilowing, 
 In strains of his own native land. 
 
 That set his Bobby's heart a-g-lowing-, 
 He wept to think our out-cast race 
 Should be debarred that glorious place ! 
 
 " IIuw happy V he sighM with a weary air, 
 
 " Are the two or three swells who wander there.
 
 Paradise and tJic Peeler. lUl 
 
 ^Mid flowers whose scent can never pall ! 
 llioiio-h mine are the haunts of Bow Bazaar 
 From Tank Square East to Sealdah far, 
 
 This Garden of Eden is better than all ! 
 Though hrig4it are the rays which o^er Gunga gleam. 
 And pleasant in diughees to go with the stream, 
 
 And pleasant to ride without getting a fall, 
 Or to drive up and down until close of day, 
 ^Mid yon swarm of bug-gies and carriages gay. 
 But — oh 1 ^tis only the swells can say — 
 
 That a walk through Eden is better than all ! 
 
 " Go, stroll around the cricket-ground there, 
 Or wander with ayahs about Tank Square, 
 
 Or smoke a dudeen in the old Town Hall ; 
 Of all the pleasures we find out here. 
 Our strolls with ayahs, our pipes, our 1)ecr, 
 
 A half-hour in Eden is worth them all !" 
 
 '^riie Great Chief who the key is keeping* 
 Of Eden — saw the Peeler weeping, 
 And turned at once from off the course 
 iVud, drawing near, rein'd up his horse— 
 " Bobby \" he said, " I see thee cry. 
 Toll me at once the reason why \"
 
 Tlie Peeler wiping away a tear 
 
 With his cuff, replied, " My grief is clear; 
 
 No one but swells can enter here." 
 
 Then said the Chief " I'll soothe thy grief 
 
 And to thy bosom bring relief, 
 
 ^Tis written, Bobl)y, by the Great 
 
 That all to enter here are free 
 Who show the Peeler at the gate 
 
 A pass or ticket sign'd by ME \" 
 
 Next day a gathering crowd appear'd 
 
 Where Hogg, the Chief of Swelldom, reigns. 
 
 And sought from him they all revered 
 A pass to Eden-'s sweet domains. 
 
 And as they ranged in muster by 
 
 Hogg scann-'d them with Vice-regal eye. 
 
 A British merchant was the first 
 
 Who stood before that searching gaze. 
 He seem'd as though with wealth he'd burst, 
 
 Nor fear'd of Hogg's keen eye the blaze. 
 From Glasgow's crowded mart he came, 
 
 And, through a long and bright career. 
 Had ever borne an honest name-— 
 
 A name full honorM far and near.
 
 Paradise and the Peeler. 193 
 
 " Sweet/-* said the Chief, " it is to stand, 
 
 Kenown'd for honor and for wealth ; 
 And sweeter ^tis to know we^re loved 
 For kindly actions done by stealth ! 
 But still — alas ! — the silver bar 
 Of Eden moves not, — worthier far 
 Than ev^n this merchant prince must be 
 The man who wants a pass from me \" 
 
 The merchant pass'd with piteous moan 
 That would have moved a heart of stone ; 
 And on his heels a lawyer came, 
 Dundreary should have been his name. 
 So long and full his whiskers red, 
 Which all around a halo shed, 
 His hat on one side of his head ; 
 A startling tie above his vest ; 
 A fresh-pluckM rose upon his breast — 
 A spruce young spark was he who came 
 After the man of merchant fame, 
 And — -'tis a dreadful thing to think, 
 He greeted Hogg with cheerful wink ! 
 
 " Pass on ! pass on ! To none like you 
 Can gates of Paradise open'd be,
 
 lO^ Paradise and the Peeler. 
 
 The lawyer and the grasping- Jew, 
 We class with Moslem and Hindoo, 
 Who ne^er may Eden hope to see ; 
 Then ne'er need lawyer try to get 
 A ticket or a pass from me •'' 
 
 Next came a broker calm and cool, 
 
 A courteous swell of the olden school, 
 
 So undisturbM by care or glee. 
 
 The coolest card on earth is he ; 
 
 Well known to all the suppliants there. 
 
 He bow'd with calm collected air. 
 
 And coolly met Hogg's curious stare. 
 
 But, ah ! even brokers' hopes are vain. 
 
 Again the Chief forbade — again 
 
 Was Eden's barrier closed — " Not yet," 
 
 The great Chief said, " with much regret. 
 
 From brokers I withhold the pass, 
 
 They're not in my Exclusive Class." 
 
 " Poor race of men !" said the pitying Bobby, 
 " Dearly ye pay for your new King Log, 
 Schalch ne'er would have yielded to any such hobby, 
 But the trail of the Service is all over Hogg !"
 
 A tradesman next, who twenty years 
 
 Had toiPd, and put his money by, 
 And made his shop a grand Hotel, 
 
 And started a g-reat Company — 
 Then to his nativ^e land retired 
 
 And hoped to live in comfort there, 
 But times grew bad, and out he came 
 
 The burden of these days to bear. 
 With him a sailor captain stood, 
 
 Linked with the tradesman, arm in arm. 
 Both bow^d and scraped in pleasant mood, 
 
 And for their pass felt no alarm. 
 A civil engineer came next, 
 
 A doctor, with no army rank, 
 An artist, and photographer, 
 
 A chairman of a People's Bank — 
 
 " Nor tradesman rich, nor engineer. 
 
 Nor sailor bold, nor artist smart. 
 Nor banker can get tickets here, 
 
 I pray you then, my friends — depart ! 
 The only people I can trust, 
 
 And who in Eden wish to be, 
 Are leaders of the upper crust. 
 
 And none but them I care to see — 
 For Eden's Gardens must be free 
 
 From aught like doubtful company."
 
 196 Paradise and the Feeler. 
 
 These gone^ a dusky bride stood there, 
 
 With orange blossoms in her hair, 
 
 Pressing the arm of young Chee-Chee, 
 
 While, dressed like her, were bridesmaids three— 
 
 Ah ! once how little Hogg did think 
 
 That from such sparkling eyes he^d shrink ; 
 
 That he would turn away his face 
 
 From sweet Eurasian form of grace ; 
 
 Turn from a bride of that swart race. 
 
 Whose dusky arms — whose fond grimace. 
 
 Should gain as much respect from him 
 As priest from Israel's holiest place 
 
 Could shew for Jewish Sanhedrim ! 
 
 " Oh ! let us only breathe the air, 
 
 The blessed air that's breathed by thee, 
 And let us wander blithely there 
 
 Through Eden's Gardens for a spree — 
 Oh ! turn not from us thus your face, 
 
 But tell us what we have to pay. 
 For well thou knowest we go the pace. 
 
 And shell out on our wedding day." 
 Stern was the answer that he gave : 
 " To Chee-Chee charms I am no slave. 
 Like those who have already gone. 
 My powder'd friends, you must move on !'
 
 Paradise and tJic Veelcr. 197 
 
 But, hark — a pleasant sound is heard, 
 
 The rustling of a satin dress_^ 
 As from her brougham steps a dame 
 
 Bewitching- in her loveliness — 
 With wreath'd smiles upon her face, 
 
 And a gay twinkle in her eye, 
 Before the Chief she takes her place 
 
 But thus to her he makes reply — 
 "When first you came into the room 
 
 I knew you for that lady-hird, 
 Who lives alone and keeps a brougham — 
 
 To let you in would be absurd. 
 The ffates of Eden still are closed. 
 
 Nor raised the silver bar can be. 
 How couldst thou, lady, have supposed 
 
 Those gates I'd open, even for thee ?" 
 
 And thus the crowd passed on afar. 
 And fast the hours of daylight flew. 
 
 Not once was raised the silver bar, 
 Por none in all the crowd would do — 
 
 They all pass'd on ; Hogg could not bear 
 To let them joys of Eden share.
 
 198 
 
 Paradise and the Pcch-r. 
 
 " Poor race of men !" again sig-h'd the Peeler, 
 " Dearly ye pay for your new King Log, 
 
 In liberal notions Sebalch was a dealer. 
 
 But the trail of the Service is all over Hogg !' 
 
 What sudden sight disturbs the Chief, 
 Why jumps he with Convulsive start? 
 
 He sees to his intense relief 
 An officer in war-paint smart ! 
 
 '' Oh ! glorious Lobster, come to me ! 
 
 The silver bar is raised for thee — 
 
 For thee are opened Eden^'s gates. 
 
 For thee the Band in Eden waits. 
 
 What though of morals thou hast none, 
 
 Of wicked sire immoral son. 
 
 What though of all good thou art reft, 
 
 The Queen's commission thou hast left ; — ■ 
 
 That uniform's enough for me. 
 
 And you, my Lobster brave, shall be 
 
 Through Eden's groves a wanderer free." 
 
 Another start and now appears 
 A Civil Servant, young in years.
 
 Paradise a) id the Peeler. 199 
 
 But in his private life so loose, 
 And in his brains so sad a goose, 
 The ladies on that very score 
 Delight to pet him more and more. 
 
 " Oh ! Haileybury boy ! come here ; 
 
 For you and I school-fellows are. 
 To you shall Eden's path be clear. 
 
 For you is raised the silver bar." 
 
 (Chorus hy Civil Servant and Lobster as they wall: 
 out of the Presence.) 
 
 Joy, joy, for ever ! our task is done ! 
 Hogg's pass is gained and Eden is won ! 
 Oh ! are we not happy ? We are, we are ! 
 
 To thee, sweet Eden, how dark appear 
 The dirty gullies of Jaun Bazar 
 
 And the evening pleasures wo meet with there ! 
 
 Farewell ! ye snobs of earth, who ride 
 
 Upon the old Course after five. 
 Or creep along the river's side 
 
 Through what you call your evening drive !
 
 Farewell ! ye poor plebeian swells, 
 
 Who gather in crowds along the strand, 
 
 Oh ! what are the brightest joys youVe known 
 
 Compared to ours when all alone 
 
 We roam through Eden's flowery land ? 
 
 Joy, joy, for ever ! our task is done ! 
 
 WeVe got Hogg's pass, and Eden is won !
 
 The Vice-Rcgnl Fancy-Ball. 201 
 
 THE VICE-REGAL FANCY-BALL. 
 
 January, 1866. 
 A Retrospect. 
 
 " She look'd so lovely as she sway'd 
 Her partner with her finger-tips, 
 A man had given all other bliss 
 And all his worldly hopes for this, , 
 
 To waste his whole heart in one kiss 
 Upon her perfect lips — " 
 
 — Slightly changed from Tennyson. 
 
 Come, let^s5 recall the Fancy Ball of fifteen months ag-o, 
 When the upper crust of this great place made such a 
 
 goodly shew ; 
 When satin, silk, and velvet, and gold and silver sheen 
 Transformed our dull Vice-regal halls into a fairy scene. 
 
 You well remember how you went, with long and flow- 
 ing hair, 
 
 In costume that might well have done for Haidec or 
 Gulnare ; 
 
 aI
 
 No painter's brush could color, nor Grecian cliisel trace, 
 A more becoming costume, a more bewitching- face. 
 
 But, as to me, I felt at sea, for you had said that nio^ht, 
 When shewing olf my uniform I look'd "a dreadful 
 
 fright,- 
 Till then I always had supposed, though somewhat in 
 
 the sere. 
 That 1 look'd well in war-paint as a gallant Volunteer. 
 
 But to the ball : who laug'hing' came and walk'd you 
 
 off apace ? 
 A well dress'd swaggering bold Zouave with kindly 
 
 beaming face, 
 ^Twas Monty, my old chum and friend, who ever 
 
 plays the part. 
 Like his own Arab " Hermit," of thorough-bred at heart. 
 
 Now let me call to mind the throng" that pass'd before 
 
 me there. 
 And first (for some one must be first) the pretty 
 
 Jardiniere, 
 Who made her curtsey gracefully before the Viceroy's 
 
 throne 
 With him who not long after call'd that Jardiniere 
 
 his own.
 
 The Vice-Regal Fancy-Bali. 203 
 
 Then came a fair and comely dame with g-orgeous 
 
 train and dress, 
 And well she lookM and play'd her part of Eng-land's 
 
 good Queen Bess; 
 Then '^ shorn and shaven" came a monk, with cowl 
 
 and sandall'd feet, 
 Then lurid Mephistophiles — but where was Marguerite ? 
 
 Now comes that clever horseman — I dare not mention 
 
 names, 
 And if I did IM only say his name was not i^^i^r- James .; 
 The Staff Corps^ scarlet coat he wore, and, leaning 
 
 on his arm, 
 A pretty wife clung to him with eyes of wondrous charm. 
 
 Pass on, my pretty lad}^, your eyes, all know full well. 
 Would work on those who gazed too long a too entran- 
 cing spell : 
 Pass on, another takes your place, a heroine of Lucknow, 
 Who in the garb of Queen of Scots to England makes 
 her bow. 
 
 And on her gentle face recalls those months of long 
 
 despair. 
 When nothing but the cannon's roar was heard upon 
 
 the air,
 
 A'Vlien life seemM scarce worth living for, when blood 
 ran cold from friglit, 
 
 When sleepless nij^ht secm'd worse than day, and day- 
 seemed worse than night. 
 
 Pass on, my English heroine, and take your sister too. 
 May she be spared the fearful scenes so well sustain^ 
 
 by you ; 
 Make room for this bold plunger with clanking sword 
 
 and spur. 
 Who comes with Russian peasant girl envelop'd round 
 
 \vith fur. 
 
 Bless us and save us ! who are these ? two elfs from 
 
 Fairyland — 
 White hair, wliite wings, white dresses, white wands in 
 
 either hand ; 
 Pass on, pass on, those wings of your's were never 
 
 meant to soar. 
 You'll find some day that love has wings to fly and 
 
 come no more. 
 
 Doff your plumed hat, Lord Rochester, bend low your 
 
 curly pate, 
 You^-e certainly a swell to-night, unconscious of the fate
 
 TJie Vice-Regal Fancy-Ball. 205 
 
 Which waits the Bank of India in the crisis soon to 
 
 come. 
 When you and other banker friends will have a run 
 
 at home. 
 
 Zouave Vivandiere passes on and makes her graceful 
 
 bow, 
 A happy wife was she that night, a lonely widow now. 
 Then comes a learned LL.D., his sister by his side. 
 Who, as all pretty girls should do, has since become a 
 
 bride. 
 
 Another Queen of Scots appears, two daughters in her 
 
 train. 
 The one a comely Spaniard, the other '^ Lady Jane.^^ — 
 Then an Italian brigand comes with murderous look 
 
 and air 
 With a lady of the olden time with ruff and powder'd 
 
 hair. 
 
 Ah me, here are two " powder'd-hairs,^^ two pretty 
 
 girls indeed. 
 Who with their beauty well might shake the Moslem 
 
 Prophct^s creed.
 
 206 
 
 Tlic Vicc-Rcgal Fancy-Bail. 
 
 That houris are not found on earth, but as rewards are 
 
 g-iven, 
 To share eternal life with men who win their way to 
 
 Heaven. 
 
 Pass on, you handsome specimens of EDg-land's powder'd 
 
 hair, 
 Your stately mother well may think you fairest of the 
 
 fair ; 
 Make way for that big Highlander, and for the mild 
 
 Hindoo 
 Who smiles with dusky lips upon the daughter of a Jew. 
 
 Ah, pretty Lady Alice, if Amy Robsart were. 
 
 When Leicester's proud Earl loved her, but only half 
 
 as fair 
 As you have made yourself to-night, no wonder he 
 
 should rave 
 Through long remorseful years of grief o'er murder'd 
 
 Amy's grave. 
 
 Now Pavia's Francis passes by dress'd out in gorge- 
 ous style. 
 With a pretty little daughter of burning Sappho's isle, 
 A Corsair with Rcd-Riding-Hood, a Turco with Undine, 
 Her loose hair falling to her waist, in one light robe 
 of grccu.
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 The 
 
 Vicc-Rcgal Fancy-BalL 
 
 
 207 
 
 What 
 
 " Snow" in this hot 
 
 latitude ? 
 
 Ah, 
 
 now a 
 
 wail- 
 
 in 
 
 gciy 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Seems 
 
 linoninoT' in 
 
 my ears as 
 
 when it 
 
 rang 
 
 from 
 
 earth 
 
 I 
 
 to sky. 
 When from the "wreck on New Year's Day so many 
 
 sought the shore. 
 And sank, like " Snow," beneath the tide to rise again 
 
 no more. 
 
 '' Hye-yah, chin-chin, fine pigeon-dress, hye-yah, my 
 
 ]\Iandarin, 
 The sun's your brother, moon your sister, stars your 
 
 sons, chin-chin ! 
 Pass on, my pig-tail'd friend, pass on, and join green 
 
 Undine there. 
 And gaze upon the tangled tresses of Neoera's hair. 
 
 ^i 
 
 Ah, who is this tall Spanish girl, a daughter of the 
 Church ? 
 
 For comelier form, for brighter eyes, ^twould take full 
 long to search ; 
 
 My bright-eyed laughing maiden, what would not mor- 
 tal dare 
 
 To take from you as pledge of love that rose-bud in your 
 hair.
 
 And now the gallant Hig-liland Band tlio Niglit-Lcll 
 
 Galop plays, 
 And crowds of dancers mingling- there Avhirl through 
 
 the giddy maze. 
 There kings and queens of classic days and of the olden 
 
 time 
 Are galopping at such a pace as though to halt were 
 
 crime. 
 
 There scarlet Mephistophiles tears round with white 
 
 Undine 
 And bumps against a Scottish laird with Hungary's fair 
 
 queen ; 
 And " Effie Deans" is very nearly lifted off her feet 
 By the frantic rush of Turco whirling round with 
 
 Marguerite. 
 
 But waltz soon follows galop, and then a staid quad- 
 rille 
 
 In which I have as partner my Maiden of Castille ; 
 
 And when tis o'er Friar Tuck comes up with " Night" 
 upon his arm, 
 
 And whispers thus, " The champagne's good, a glass 
 won't do you harm."
 
 . ^ . 
 
 T//e Vkc-Rcgal Fancy-Ball. 209 
 
 I take the hint — come back — and find that all with 
 
 powder'd haiv 
 Have form'd a Louis Quinze Quadrille which no one else 
 
 may share ; 
 All other dancers gather round to watch the dancers 
 
 here. 
 And what a handsome set they are, each Dame and 
 
 Cavalier. 
 
 There wdiere the eyes are brightest her bright dark eyes 
 
 are seen, 
 Whose graceful form and lovely face might stamp her 
 
 Beauty's Queen : 
 That graceful form, those winning waj's, will now for 
 
 many a year 
 Assert their reign o^er all her guests who flock to 
 
 Belvidere. 
 
 But neither time nor space allows to dwell on ' powder\l 
 
 luiir,^ 
 It is enough for me to say that all were handsome 
 
 there ; 
 And many a thrublnng heart will (ind its memory 
 
 haunted still 
 By beaming eyes which sparkled from that Louis Qiiinze 
 
 Quadrille.
 
 210 
 
 The Vice-Regal Fancy-Ball. 
 
 Now plumed hat^ aud gold-and-green, and purple^ pinlc, 
 
 and bufF, 
 And blue-and-silv^erj bigh-heeFd slioeSj sliort waist, and 
 
 lace, and ruff 
 Have mixM again with Turk, Zouave, Undine, Paysanne, 
 
 Francaise, 
 Corsair, Vivandiere, good Queen Bess, Greek girl, and 
 
 Polonaise. 
 
 And so tbe revehy went on — my brain was in a wliirl, 
 I cbatted now witb Scottisb lass, tben with a flower 
 
 girl ; 
 I took to supper Maid of Spain, pull'd bon-bons with 
 
 Undine, 
 And drank a glass of sparkling bock witb Shakespeare's 
 
 Fairy Queen. 
 
 But all tbe wbile I tbougbt as now I tbink of tbat gay 
 
 ball, 
 You were, my little petted wife, tbe prettiest of tbem 
 
 all; 
 I told you so when home we came, I tell you so to-day, 
 To me you were tbe prettiest tbcre, wbatever others say.
 
 ('-.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 Hi, 
 
 m ^ 
 
 >i. 
 
 4l9<8 
 
 9% 
 
 [OiURi JUL 
 
 IRl . 
 
 16 
 
 fl% 
 
 168 
 
 Form L9-32m-8,'57(.C8680s4)444
 
 I 
 
 < - 1 
 )\