s who fell in the year ninety-eight
And died ere they'd live as your slaves.

And don't you remember your own words, John Bull,
Of the Southern Confed--er--a--cie?
When you said in the _Times_, that your heart went of course
With a brave race which sought to be free.
Oh what do you think of Old Ireland, John Bull?
There's a race that's as brave as your own,
And one that would like very well to be free,
If you only would let it alone.

And don't you remember great India, John Bull?
With the Sepoys you blew from your guns,
And the insult and murder of Brahmins, John Bull,
For some outrage endured from their sons?
The outrage was proved a black lie, as you know,
A lie, as your own books declare:
Your hell-hounds of HAVELOCKS stirred up the war,
And what business had they to be there?

And don't you remember great China, John Bull,
Where you smeared yourself blacker with sin?
Where the Emperor tried to keep opium out,
And you fought to force opium in?
It was _Government_ opium from India, too,
Which poisons both body and soul;
You have fought against freedom with steel, Johnny Bull;
With the steel and the cord and the bowl.

And do you believe in a GOD, Johnny Bull,
Or _anything_ after the grave?
Then tell us what waits for the sinner who aids
The tyrant to trample the slave?
I'll not ask if you've faith in a Devil, John Bull:
One might think he were laid on the shelf,
To see you unpunished--but now I believe
That you are the False One himself.

* * * * *

We are indebted to a friend for the following tales of foraging, which
are vouched for as authentic:

A company of the Two--th cavalry of volunteers, no matter in what
State, were out on a forage, with the usual orders to respect the
enemy's property. But coming on a plantation where chickens and
turkeys were dallying in the sunshine, the officer in command,
tired of pork and plaster-pies, alias hard biscuit, gave the boys
leave to club over as many of the 'two-legged things in feathers'
as they could conveniently come at. The result was that a good
number were despatched, and being tied together by the legs, were
slung over the pommel of the saddle of 'Benny,' an old _sabreur_,
who had frontiered it for years, been in more Indian fights than