(_From our Special Correspondent on the Spot._)
_Monday._--Everyone is afraid that the action of the Government in
imposing a tax upon cycles will have serious effects. Although the
fleet do not use the carriages thus surcharged, it is not unlikely the
armour-plated cruiser _Impartial_ may threaten to bombard the capital.
Altogether the situation is critical.
_Tuesday._--My fears were well-founded. The capital has been
bombarded, but not on account of the cycle tax, but to show that the
commander of the armour-plated cruiser _Impartial_ objects to the
proposed equalisation of Poor Rates. Fortunately the Government
torpedo-catcher _Cupid_ was able to beat off the _Impartial_ before
serious damage could be done. Still, the question of the acquisition
of the telegraphs is causing much excitement amongst the army.
_Wednesday._--My worst fears are realised. The General in command of
the garrison has made the Church Tithes question a _casus belli_. As
the Government insisted upon proceeding with the second reading, the
General thought it his duty to set fire to all the public offices.
This is considered to be an extreme step by many important members of
the Opposition.
_Thursday._--This morning dense bodies of troops arrived opposite the
House of Representatives, with a view to bringing pressure to bear
upon the opponents to the Public Baths and Wash-house Bill, which
it will be remembered passed through the Committee stage with the
assistance of a cavalry regiment and three batteries of artillery.
_Friday._--The Budget has disappointed both the fleet and the army,
the combined forces have taken possession of the capital, and the
Government is practically overturned.
_Saturday._--Matters are still unsettled. The capital is still
in possession of the insurgents. The Premier has been released on
condition that he promises to bring in a Bill for the improvement of
the Law of Bankruptcy early next Session. It is rumoured that a body
of fresh troops are on their way to the metropolis in charge of
a measure for the Abolition of Tithes, which they desire to carry
through the Upper House at the point of the bayonet.
_Sunday._--The Admiral commanding the fleet, having proclaimed himself
Dictator, attended church in state. On his way back to his palace
he was surrounded by the troops, and, after a tough engagement, was
forced to retire to his flag-ship with heavy loss. The garrison would
have attended the afternoon service _en grande tenue_ had not the
fleet opened fire upon the recently evacuated cathedral. In spite of
recent events the populace still exhibit uneasiness.
* * * * *
FINE SUBJECT FOR HEROIC HISTORICAL CARTOON.--"'TOMMY' BOWLES
challenging a division." Imagine it! Grand! but unfortunately the
subject too late for pictorial treatment by one of _Mr. P.'s_ young
men this week. Think how many would go to make up a "Division"!!
Remember that TOMMY is but a Unit. "Unit is strength," says T. G. B.
* * * * *
THE UNEXPECTED.--_Youthful Hereditary Legislator (seen for the first
time in the neighbourhood of Westminster last week, inquires of
Policeman)._ "Aw--can you--ar--direct me to the--aw--House of Lords?"
* * * * *
[Illustration: SEA-SIDE STUDIES.
_Wandering Minstrel._ "GURLS! I'M A DOOCID FINE CHA-APPIE!" &c., &c.]
* * * * *
"OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY!"
[Mr. GLADSTONE has gone on a visit to Mr. GEORGE ARMITSTEAD,
at Black Craig Castle, Perthshire. Mr. HENRY GLADSTONE stated
that the Prime Minister would receive no deputations, and that
the holiday would be purely recuperative.]
_Pensive Premier museth_:--
Purely recuperative! Ah! precisely.
Leave me alone, and I shall manage nicely.
How the bees boom amidst the purple heather!
Better than BOWLES and BARTLEY! (_Yawn._) Wonder whether
_They_'re "booming" still about Sir WILLIAM'S head;
Buz-wuz! Buz-wuz! And raspy Russell, red
With Orange rage, shakes he a towzled crest?
Creaks he continual challenge, spear in rest?
Wags he a menacing fore-finger still
At me through stout Sir WILLIAM? Poor Sir WILL!
How he'd like _this_! How little he likes _that_!
Purely recuperative! Here I've sat
Since luncheon--ruminating, reading, napping,
Thank heaven I cannot hear Lord KELVIN clapping
CASTLETOWN'S callow clap-trap. All is still.
There's nothing near I wish to stalk or kill.
Like Melancholy _Jaques_, I can note
The branchy antlers and the dappled coat
Of "poor sequestered stag," and yet not yearn
To--make him venison. Yon brabbling burn
Makes mellower music in my Scottish ears.
Then the MACALLUM'S slogan. How the cheers
Of SALISBURY must have fired him as he smote;
Hacked at my character, hewed at my throat
Like "sullen spearsman" upon Flodden field.
The claymore, like his sires, he loved to wield.
They lost their heads he says, for England's weal,
And he--well, has he not lost _his_?
I feel
The mellow moorland air, gorse-scented, bland
With heather odour, soothes me, like the hand
Of gentle woman on an angry brow.
Were the great-little Scotsman with me now,
Like proud MCGREGOR on his native heath,
Breathing pure-scented, honey-laden breath,
How his cock-nose would drop, his flaming crest
Droop and unruffle! He's a scold confest,
A pedagogue incarnate; horn-book, tawse.
Cramming and chastisement, not making laws,
His talent and his temperament best befit.
Yet--once he lent his eloquence and wit
To aid the man he now maligns. Ah, me!
"Tricky!"--"corrupt!" What arrant fiddle-de-dee
It sounds--upon these moors, beneath the blue
Of unpolluted skies!
HOMER, to you
I turn. ACHILLES in his wrath could rage,
But scarce would stoop the wordy war to wage
With poisoned epithet and shrewish flout
Like scorpion-tongued THERSITES.
Here, no doubt,
By Black Craig Castle party wasps would turn
To honey-hiving bees. Oh, tinkling burn,
You set my soul to music. HONEST JOHN,
Valiant Sir WILLIAM, you must still fight on
A little longer. Would ye both were here.
ARMITSTEAD'S guests, like me, like me with cheer
"Purely recuperative" holiday
To take--"Over the Hills and Far Away!"
[_Left lolling like a Lotus-eater._
* * * * *