on Tuesday, when
MOLESWORTH talked about national honour, and shedding blood, and all
that--he said: It is better to have your nose pulled, than your nose cut
off. Now England has certainly had its nose pulled--

_King._ But has not lost an inch of it. The nose is quite as good as
ever, and then--

_Prince._ Down, Pompey! How wild the dogs are!

_King._ And then, with war, what throne is safe?
Hungary--Italy--Rome--Naples--

_Prince._ The dogs are very wild!

_King._ And as I've said, _mon cher_, Saxe-Coburg and Saxe-Gotha.
Therefore, why not let Russia keep the Provinces, and--

_Prince._ Here come BRABANT and FLANDERS.

_King._ Mark! (_His Majesty fires; bird falls. The_ DUKE OF BRABANT
_and_ COUNT OF FLANDERS _join_).

* * * * *

The above is faithfully translated from the German, a language in which
the distinguished sportsmen always shoot. COLONEL FLINT does not know a
word of German.

* * * * *

IN EAST AND NORTH.

Two sisters stand by Stamboul's sunny waters,
Two sisters sit where Arctic ice-winds rave--
Hands clasped, the first watch a fleet's crew at quarters;
Hands clasped, the second weep beside a grave.

The same two sisters;--long upon each other,
Stern have they frowned across their Channel sea:
But now all rivalries and hates they smother,
And sit thus, hand in hand laid lovingly.

Why, sisters, rest ye thus at peace together,
Your ancient feuds and factions all laid by?--
Why smile you in that purple Asian weather?
Why weep you 'neath that leaden Polar sky?

"Two causes, stranger, hold us thus united--
Both fit to make true friends of noble foes:
In the bright East we stand to see wrong righted,
In the black North, a hero's eyes we close.

"Those battle flags that side by side are swelling
Speak of brute force defied, of law maintained,
Those funeral flags that side by side are trailing,
Speak both of loss endured and triumph gained.

"Yon banded fleet to all the nations teaches
He that doth wrong his wrong shall sore abye;
The icy monument of Bellot preaches
How nobly love can live, how grandly faith can die.

"Are not these lessons worthy of the giving?
To give them is't not well we use our might?
Then leave us to our gladness and our grieving,
Under the Eastern sun, beneath the Polar night."

* * * *