The Christmas Number of _Truth_, 1877, contained a parody on _Lochinvar_, concerning the appointment of Mr. Digby Piggott, as controller of the stationery office, by Lord Beaconsfield. This was characterised, at the time, as a gross piece of jobbery, but the subject has lost all interest now, and the parody was not a particularly good one. [Illustration] Charles Kingsley. _Born June_ 12, 1819. _Died January_ 23, 1875. CHARLES KINGSLEY. Charles Kingsley, rector of Eversley, was born June 12, 1819, at Holne Vicarage, Dartmoor, Devonshire, and died January 23, 1875. His poems, though comparatively few in number, are marked by much power, pathos, and originality. The two which have most frequently suffered parody are _The Three Fishers_, and the _Ode to the North-East Wind_. THE THREE FISHERS. Three fishers went sailing away to the West, Away to the west as the sun went down; Each thought of the woman who loved him best, And the children stood watching them out of the town. For men must work, and women must weep, And there’s little to earn and many to keep, Though the harbour bar be moaning. Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower, And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower, And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown. But men must work, and women must weep, Though storms be sudden, and waters deep, And the harbour bar be moaning. Three corpses lay out on the shining sands In the morning gleam as the tide went down, And the women are weeping and wringing their hands For those who will never come home to the town. For men must work, and women must weep, And the sooner it’s over, the sooner to sleep; And good-bye to the bar and its moaning. CHARLES KINGSLEY. ―――― AN OLD FRIEND IN A NEW DRESS. Three merchants went riding out into the west, On the top of the bus, as the sun went down; Each talked of his wife, and how richly she drest, And the growing circumference of her new gown; For wives must dress, and husbands must pay, And there’s plenty to get, and little to say, While the Milliner’s Bill is running. Three wives sat up in JANE CLARKE’S for hours. And they told her to put every article down, They ordered the silks, and they ordered the flowers And the bill it kept rolling up, gown upon gown; For wives must dress, and husbands _will_ pay, Though perhaps they will be in a terrible way When they’re dunned for the Bill that is running.