Here and There

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XL, Issue 20, 13 May 1908, Page 50

Here and There

Science and (Christian Science, according to report, is rapidly gaining ground among English army officers.) The scout into headquarters rushed As pale as well could be. “Our vanguard from the hills is brushed Like twigs before the sea; The enemy is breaking through To cut us oil’ behind” The General said briefly, “Pooh? An error of Qie mind!”

An aide, dust-covered, staggered in, “Hark, hark—their cannonade! The bravest of our ranks begin To totter back afraid.” “Mere Matter,” said the Chief, “cannot Disturb high Minds that dwell Above imaginary shot And non-existent shell.”

The Surgeon spoke, his aspect “•So thick the fallen lie We’ll need an extra force to save The wounded ere they die.” The Leader stroked his whiskers trim In irritation slight - “Oh, give ’em absent treatment, Jim* And that will 'be all right.”

All day the birds of war fed fat While earth with cannon shook, All day the peerless Leader sat And read the Eddybook; But when, defeated fore and aft, He saw his last resort, The calm Commander telegraphed To Concord for support.

But suddenly a cannon ball Across the hillsides tore And blotted out the General With one terrific roar. The agent of this deed of hell T hesitate to name — Some claim it was a lyddite shell, Some claim it was a “claim.” —Wallace. Irwin.’

© © © To a Heroine. Come out into the snowstorm, Maud, And do our little stunt; We linger gladly to applaud: “Turned from meh father’s dwelling— Gawd!” (Business with child L. Front.) The calcium moon is ghastly blue, The foots are far from gay, The leader’s tremuloing, too. (I’ve noticed that in scenes with yotj He’s generally that way.) And yet cheer up! The villain's mean, But then he’s paid to be; And think of that fine foiling scene—(Of course you know the one I mean— The Mill by Night—ACT Three.) Cheer up! Though painted storm clouds flap. And wind (K.) fills the air. No matter what your dire mishap 'That most übiquitous young chap— I'he Hero, will be there! He will! He will! You bet he will! He'll grab the helpless che-ild And hand five knuckles to the Vil., Ami swing you from the Burning Mill (While we upstairs go wild.) So Maud, come out into the snow. Which just at present falls; And \vc will clap until you show Yourself, the Child, ami Him in no Less than ten curtain calls. Horatio Winslow. © © © To Cvnthia. Now’ winter holds the world in thrall And planets gleam from frosty skies, But not a star among them all Is half so bright as Cynthia’s eyes. Yet. though wore I celestial Jove, This earth to her I’d sacrifice, Not all the ardour of my love Avails to melt her heart of ice. 3.

The Peaceable Race. “Who says that the Irish are fighters be birth?” , Says little Dau Crbne. “Faix, there’s not a more peaceable race on th - earth. If ve Fave ’em alone.

“Tim O’Toole? Well, I grant ye now, there is a lad That’s beset wid the curse o’ pugnacity bad.

But he’s jisht th’ ixciption that’s provin’ the rule; An’ what else could ye ask from a lad like O’Toole? Share, lie’s sieh a big mountain o’ muscle

and bone. Sizin’ up to the heft o’ some siventeeij stone. That he fair aggravates iv’ry other bould buck

To be wishful to hand him a couple for

luck. An’ to prove that there’s others as clever as him.

Now, I ask ye, suppose ye was husky as Tim, Don’t ye think ’twould be right ye should take a delight In defendin’ yer title an’ testin yar might?” Says little Dan Crone. “Is it me? Arrah; now it is jokin’ ye are. But I bid ye be careful, and not go too far.

.Share, it’s true I’m no more nor the height o’ yer waist, But there’s manny a bzigger has sampled a taste O’ the knuckles that’s bunched in this little ould fight. Where’s the dog wouldn’t fight whiii his tail gets a twisht? Do I hunt fur the tlirouble? Mayhap, now, it’s thine Upon certain occasions that’s jisht what I do. Share, how else would they know—l’m that stunted an’ small—: I’d the heart of a man in me body at all?” .Says little Dan Crone. “Well, thin, keep ver opinion. ’Tis little it’s worth.” Says little Dan Crone. “Faix, we’re jisht the most peaceable race on the earth. If ye I’ave us alone.” €3 © © A Day of March. My soul went singing, for 1 knew That spring was close at hand, . Although a sounding tempest blew Across the wintry land, And rarely broke tlie sunshine through The great clouds overspanned. The keen wind swept the clouds along In swift, stupendous march. And angered past the oak tree strong. Or whistled through the larch: Great Nature’s organ to her song In her infinite church. About the northern slopes and dells The sheeted snow still lay, For proof that winter yet had spells To grudge that jocund day When prisoned leaves should burst the!" shells - And flame to green from gray. Then, in a sheltered copse, 1 heard Some first sweet notes essayed By an undaunted prophet-bird, So blithe and undismayed, That to loud song my being stirred, And this the verse 1 made: “Wild wind! beat with thy phantom wings Against the doors of spring. Thou shalt not dull the joy she brings Nor cause long tarrying. Listen! ’tis that this brave bird sings. Harken! thou envious thing." N.E.