The two following parodies àpropos of present circumstances, also appeared in a Prize competition: BRITANNIA TO GLADSTONE. You must save me from the Jingoes, from the Jingoes, Gladdy dear―― To morrow’ll be the wretchedest time of all this tragic year; Of all this tragic year, Gladdy, the maddest, wickedest day, For there’ll be a war, they say, Gladdy――there’ll be a war they say. The Russians come and go, Gladdy, and seize upon each pass, And with the savage Turcomans they drain the social glass; The Tories shout and yell, Gladdy, awhile the Quakers pray, For there’ll be a war, they say, Gladdy――there’ll be a war, they say. All in the wild March morning I heard the trumpet call, As Russian upon Afghan did mercilessly fall; The shots began to whistle, and the drums began to roll, And in the wild March morning fled many a trooper’s soul. O, strange it seems to me, Gladdy, that ere this year is done Some thousands of my bravest may be rotting ’neath the sun, Just like my noble Gordon, the gallant and the true―― But what of that, the Jingoes say, why make ye such ado? For ever, and for ever, they rave and stamp and roam―― Why can’t they wait a little while, until th’ elections come? For then you’ll go up, Gladdy to yon House and wear a crest, And the Russian cease from troubling, and the Jingo be at rest! J. ARTHUR ELLIOTT. ――――:o:―――― HODGE’S EMANCIPATION. The elections will be early, will be early, brother dear; There is no doubt we’ll have to vote before another year. The parson and the squire, they say, are quite polite to-day, And think it will be most unkind if we don’t vote their way. They forget we were the black sheep――the blackest of our time―― Were only fit to till the ground and feed our master’s swine; Now they declare by us to stand for ever and a day, If we will vote their way, brother――will only vote their way. As I came up the valley brother, whom think ye I should see But the parson arm-in-arm with Hodge, as merry as could be? He thought of those sharp words, brother, I gave him yesterday―― When I refused to tell him, brother, if we should vote his way. Now they may lose our votes brother, they think we’re in the right, Although they failed to see our wrongs till Gladstone gave them light. They may call us cruel-hearted――I care not what they say―― For we will vote by ballot, brother――why should we vote their way? You must wake me and poll early――poll early, my brother dear―― That morrow will be the merriest time of all this glad new year! That morrow may be to all of us our emancipation day, If we vote for those who helped, brother――who helped us on our way! JOHN H. GIBSON. _The Weekly Dispatch_, April 26, 1885. ――――:o:――――