Emitted Sparks from Johnston's pen, Which meteor-like shot forth in pride, Blazed, flickered, then collapsed and died. And Robert Hardy's name I find, In the old days long left behind. James Matthews, too, in death's repose, In early times was one of those Who helped to build the ancient town, Which modern taste is pulling down, Assisted now and then by fires, Past recollections primal pyres. John Bennett, cord-wainer of yore, And volunteer in Rifle corps, With muzzle-loaders past and gone, Gallant and brave old Number One! Our civic army's primal rib, Once called by Alexander Gibb, "The Sleepy's," in the good old time When he dealt in both prose and rhyme, And made opponents fume and fret With caustic in the old _Gazette_-- Rhyme, too, in which a critic's claw Could scarcely fasten on a flaw, His verse was standard like his law. CHAPTER IV. John Cobb, I'll take a glance at thee, Firm standard of Free Masonry! Mine eye delights to rest upon Thy iron frame, old "Uncle John." If honesty and simple truth E'er "flourished in Immortal youth," Where time can ne'er their glories rob, They rest with thee, my friend, John Cobb! And Dudley Booth, what shall I say Of this strange mortal passed away? His was a genius burning bright With brilliant and uncertain light-- Proud in inventive dignity, And dark in inmate mystery, It flickered only, when sublime, It might have left a light for time, And wondering mortals to admire, Tis gone! I saw its flame expire. And John R. Stanley was among Old Bytown's well remembered throng, Whom memory's tuneful measure bears Back from the shades of other years. R.W. Cruice in ancient days Was fond of mirth and sporting ways; I had almost forgot to tell How he on horseback cut a swell, And made a fleet and daring rush At Barry's hunt and won "the brush," When sportsmen gathered full of glee Around the famed J.P., M.D. And here diverging from my road Into a little episode, I'll tear at once with gesture brief From memory's book a comic leaf, A tale from cobweb's volume hoary Of this Sangrado in his glory, Many will recollect the story. Edward Barry, grave J.P., Sometimes was given to a spree, Which interfered with the precision Of magisterial decision. So Edward Barry jumped the hedge And took the frigid temperance pledge; But soon the Justice of the Peace Found himself often ill at ease; Pains through his gastric regions ran, Too hard even for a temperance man. Then Barry M.D., in a trice, Gave Barry J.P. an advice, After a careful diagnosis, Which placed him on a bed of roses, And eased his pains beyond description-- A dose of brandy the prescription-- Oft as required to be repeated-- With which the learned J.P. was treated; And history affirms that he Oft took the prescribed remedy. John Cameron, oft called "Black John," Comes o'er my dream of old, as one Who should not now forgotten be In this memorial strain by me, In days of yore, his true-nosed hounds To the Chaudiere with certain bounds,