The RAIKES' teeth were bared--a most terrible sight!-- At the Messenger Companies. Now all seems joy For the Public, the P.O., the Co., and the Boy! The Dog in the Manger JOHN BULL did affright, But--his bark is perhaps rather worse than his bite! * * * * * [Illustration: SONS OF BRITANNIA; OR, THE UNITED SERVICE. [The Senior Admiral of the Fleet, SIR PROVO WILLIAM PARRY WALLIS, G.C.B., who was in the action between the British Frigate _Shannon_ and the American Frigate _Chesapeake_ on June 1st, 1813 (taking command of the _Shannon_ after the disabling of Captain BROKE), celebrated the hundredth anniversary of his birthday on April 12th, 1891. Lieutenant GRANT "displayed great bravery and judgment" (_Times_) in the defence of Thobal against the Manipuris, April, 1891.]] * * * * * SONS OF BRITANNIA. 1813--1891. _Britannia loquitur_:-- From Boston Bay to Thobal fort Is a far cry, but bravery bridges The centuries, and of space makes sport. The shot that swept the salt sea-ridges When VERE BROKE of the _Shannon_ smote The foe, and, struck, left WALLIS smiting,-- Sends echoes down the years that float To Thobal o'er the sounds of fighting. Memories of greatness make men great! Brave centenarian, you with pleasure May greet the youth who guard our State. You, whose long memories can measure So wide a sweep of England's war, Must joy to see her served as boldly As in those sad mad days afar, When, gazing on her children coldly, She alienated kindred hearts, Which might till now have beaten loyal. At least you both played well _your_ parts, Though blunderers blind, official, royal, May then or now have marred the work Of arduous years, and gallant spirits, My sons at least no peril shirk, Valour from age to age inherits. The old tradition, duteous stands For the old Flag, wherever flying! Brave WALLIS, gallant GRANT, clasp hands! My sons! Unfaltering, undying, Beneath grey hairs, or youth's brown locks, The spirit proud of patriot valour! Not desperate odds in war's wild shocks Shall strike its flush to craven pallor. Mud-fort, or "mealey" bastion, deck Of shot-torn ship, or red "death-valley," What odds? Of danger nought I reck, Whilst thus my sons to me can rally. Come what, come will! Whilst centuried age And youth in Spring strike hands before me, Let foemen band, let battle rage, You'll keep my Flag still flying o'er me! * * * * * [Illustration: "GENERAL IDEA" HITTING ON A NOVEL PLAN FOR OUR COAST DEFENCES.] * * * * * The Yankee Oracle on the Three-Volume Novel.