From far I snuff the odour sweet That I do love the best; And wheresoe'er I set my feet, Courtiers and liegemen flock to greet Their King confest. Well have you done your loyal part, My subjects and my slaves-- In town and country, port and mart, All's ready--after my own heart-- All--to the graves! What is my feast? These babes forpined;-- Men ere their prime made old;-- These sots, with strong drink bleared and blind-- These herds of unsexed woman-kind Foul-mouthed and bold-- These bodies, stunted, shrivelled, seared With the malaria's breath; In foetid dens and workshops reared; From reeking sewers, drains uncleared, Drinking in death. What is my court? These cellars piled With filth of many a year-- These rooms with rotting damps defiled-- These alleys where the sun ne'er smiled, Darkling and drear! These streets along the river's bank, Below the rise of tide; These hovels, set in stifling rank, Sapped by the earth-damps green and dank-- These cess-pools wide. These yards, whose heaps of dust and bone Breathe poison all around; These styes, whose swinish tenants grown Half human, with their masters own A common ground. What are my perfumes? Stink and stench From slaughter-house and sewer; The oozing gas from opened trench, The effluvia of the pools that drench Court-yards impure. What is my music? Hard-wrung groans From strong men stricken down: Women's and children's feebler moans, And the slow death-bell's muffled tones In every town. Who are my lieges? Those that rule In Vestry and at Board; The Town-hall's glib and giddy fool, The mob's most abject slave and tool Though called its lord. He who with prate of Vested Rights Old forms of wrong defends; Who for pound-foolishness still fights, Wisdom, save penny-wisdom, slights;-- These are my friends. * * * * * THE INDUSTRIOUS COSSACKS. We don't wonder that some of our Manchester friends should be content to see the Russian forces holding the Principalities. Those who object to the idleness of a military life must naturally admire an army of occupation. * * * * * [Illustration: MR. 'ARRY BELVILLE, ON THE CONTINENT GENERALLY. _'Arry Belville._ "YES! I LIKE IT EXTREMELY. I LIKE THE _Lazy ally_ SORT OF FEELING. I LIKE SITTING AT THE DOOR OF A _Caffy_ TO SMOKE MY CIGAR; AND ABOVE ALL (_onter noo_) IT'S A GREAT COMFORT TO WEAR ONE'S BEARD WITHOUT BEIN' LARFED AT!"] * * * * * OPINIONS OF OUR CONTEMPORARIES.