Chief among these learned Lor-yahs Was the great and good Ken-e-li. Brave and handsome, kind and gentle, Soft in voice and smooth in manner, Wise yet simple, strong yet tender, Was the mighty chief Ken-e-li. But the blind and stupid Jon-buls Could not see his many virtues; When he spake they shouted, "_Bun-kum!_" And they scoffed at good Ken-e-li. * * * * * The poem then describes the gentle manners of the inhabitants of the district An-lee, their mild sports and pastimes, and how they chose the great Ken-e-li to be their talking Em-pee in the council of their nation, and the manner in which he was received there. * * * * * THE SONG OF THE BEETLE. [The following graceful effusion, by a well-known Longfellow-countryman of the Colorado insect, should be hailed with delight by the British public. As it contains an accurate description of the Beetle, we would suggest that it should be learned by heart by the Rector of Hitcham's school-children, with a view to preventing entomological mistakes.] Should you ask me of the Beetle, Of the Colorado Beetle!-- Properly the _Doryphora Decemlineata_ christen'd-- I should answer, I should tell you, "He's a beggar for potatoes, Quite a glutton at potatoes-- For he 'wolfs' the common 'murphy.' The _Solanum tuberosum_. (Thus the _savans_ named the tater!") Should you ask me if the Beetle Were at all like other beetles-- Like the 'chafer, for example, Him whom boys impale on pin-point-- I should straight reply in this wise: "He, when young, is like the insect Whose abode is always burning, She whose children are departed.[4] But when fourteen days have glided, Then the Beetle is much longer; Very much more pointed-taily, Sharp as to his latter ending, Red thus far has been his colour, Red, the hue of guardsman's tunic, Red, the tint of postal pillars. But, as time and trouble try him, This our insect grows much paler, Fades and fades till he is yellow-- Yellow e'en as one dyspeptic, Yellow with black stripes upon him." Should you further ask the poet, How to treat the little stranger? I should answer, I should bid you, "Stamp on him, where'er you find him! In the garden--in the pig-sty-- In the parlour or the bed-room-- In the roadway or the meadow-- Squash the little wretch, confound him! _That's_ the way that I should answer,-- That's the sort of man that _I_ am." From _Funny Folks_.