"EVENING STAR" SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT OF ENTERTAINING READING.

No. 3;.]

AUCKLAND, SATURDAY, JULY 22, 1876

[Price; ONE PENNY

Poetry.

MORE NONSENSE.

An editor sat on a three-leggod stool In a grim3T- looking den ; He called the demon a printer's fool, Aa he shook some ink from his pen. Around him wero papers of every aize, As if blown there by a squall; And after he'd worn a pain in his eyes. Said, ' Blister the scribbla and scrawl.' 'Nov., there's a thing looks either Maori or Dutch ! If the fellow that wrote it w*s here—' Anl he grabbed st his hair with a terrible clutch, Ih.t made tha noar imp quake for fear. 'What's this T ' Sir, that Smith is an awful old cheat ; I'll tell you his nice little game ; And he makes his wife live upon nothing to eat, — Butyou'd please not to publish my name.' ' Here's another ! Ye winds ! fan the fever away.

Neither spelling, nor grammar, nor strokes ! You demon ; go quick, letch .hit monster, I aay— Just to see how an editor joke 3.' ' Some poetry now ; how very serene ! Here, send the doomed thing uo the flue ; And hold me a minute—an hour I mean. Oh, how shall I ever get through 1 'There's a couple of Subs, and a Leader to write ;

And that storm might have waitcJ awhile ; And I'm bouad co show up at that patty to-night, To chatter, to dtnee, and to smile.'

—DOR ISA

THE WAY OF THE WORLD.

Deep water, cool river— Hard toiling, no breal— A shack aud a shiver. And life will have fled— There's none to deliver, The woman is dead ; Drag cat the corps, by the streaming long hair— Hard-hearted cro.vd, gather round it and stare,

Hard working, bard thinking, Brought only disease ; She felt herself sinking, Life brought her no ease, So, out of It shriul-iag, She—think as yen please— Drag out the corpse by its streaming long hair, You'll know whero bar 30ul is, wheu yours, too, Is there.

' God is a spirit:' So, preacher, isshe; As for her merit, She's mortal like thee; And she may inherit Whore you cannot be. So bury her body, no mourners, no hearse, Sheisn't a pauper; ah no, she is worse 1

The cold earth will cover Forever from sight, The features a lover Once viewed with delight; But Glod is above her. And He will do right. Flint; her poor fl.sli iv a suicide's grave ; Moralize—ye who did nothing to s*vo.

I LUV.

I luv the fragrant flowerz. The forest, deep and toll, The songsterz likwid mudk, I luv a ' water!oil.' I iuv a stiff-b ik manhood. That anserz ' no' or ' yes ;'

I lnv old far-bilk friendships— I luv the ' pin-bak' dress.

I lnv the h _rti (.rasping Of hinz that luv me much. Arid all affekshunz clasping— I luv the 'silwa klutch.' I lu7 ole mollo paintings, From hanz that now air dus., & finished, lif-lik statewz — I luv v, hansome ' bust.' I luv the grand old mountlnz, The hillz whereon tha'r band, The feelz aliv wit'n katvul— I luv a lonsum ' waist.' I luv the golden sunshiu, The moonbemz falling brlt, The star-raz' dimond flashing— I luv a ' SPAKK'-Ung light. Luv morthan all I've told v, & I luv all the rest; Yos I luv oil kreishuu— Bat I luv the gurl the best.

WHAT IS THIS THAT WHISPERS?

"What is thi3 that whispers, whispers, Courage to my heart to-day ; Axsd my life so dark aud dreary. And my hopes all passed away, And no point in all the future Where my soul one hope can build, And ami.Vst tho dreary present Not one ray the gloom to gild— ■Will IU promise be fulfilled ? Will this tone so vaguely sounding Ihro' my life's discordant strain, Swell into a gloriou. chorus. Or be mute and hushed again ? Is this strange mysterou3 presence, But a fancy, but a dream, But the unconscious, dim reflection Of Eomo faint, forgotten gleam ? So unreal it doth seem Or, is it th 3 herald-omen Of some bright, some coming hour, ARume-.n. and all unlooked for. That hath o'er my soul such power ? Sober reason, di .ragardeth ; Fancy still won'd fain be hare ; And, tho' night nor hone appcarolh, Still my lonely hf art d.coive ; Still a sunny future waive !

—HBLIOTB OPIS.

THE LOVE TREE.

In the silliest spot of -he stillest town In all our minny lands, Tho lnll-ci:c!ed vl:age with streets grass grown, Uris shadowing old oalt standi. O fondly i 3 c'ueri-.hd this princo of trees, 'With the rustic aeat round his knotted knees ; From tho musical wind the tond're it air He has caught in hia boughs and prisoned thore. Tbe youni? man and miids of the vi lage tell Of a magi!! in his ahv_e; Never n ' nr.y. Bit, I>jc,u .n of this spell Was beneath hi" br.nrhes Sild. He has leaned o'<. r 111 s head., of wbisp ring twa'n Till his list'i-iag <c-*vm have caught their rofrmn ; And sweet, so sweetly, they whisper of love - Only and over, and always of love. When the wool-whit? mists on tbe hilltops lie, And grandmothers aro asleep j _ When winds are toned to the tenderest sign And the moon climbs the azure steep. And Silvery f.rrow arch y sbtds. On a pail of shadowy touching heads; Tig there the sweet, spell o-vn. its greatest power^ In the mystic still of the moonlit hour, Old tree, may you flourish unbent, unshorn ; And long may your bou .lis bn green! You will wave o'er loving heads yet unDorn When we ate all sjonu, I twean. For "iko of tbo hearts vo_t have sheltered there, b roav vo'i the axe and tho firebrand spare 1 Fall many now Sprigs may you live to see. And Iw my foa "^^^igjgfa

The Blot on the Queen's Head.

On the eve of the great debate in tho House of Commons, on the Royal Titles Bill, a few weeks ago, the dish of argu ment prepared by Sir Benjamin Disraeli for the delectation of tbe assembled Com moners, received the following spicing, as a voluntary offering, by one of the Mem bers of the House, the author of ' Ginx's Baby.' The spicy article was introduced to the inside and outside anditory of the great Westminister as stated, in tho form of a pamphlet, and gave rise to that rich cartoon of 'Punch's,' representing an artist of unmistakable Hebrew physiogno my in the act of altering the ancient sign of the ancient hostelry. An editorial review prepared the way for the pamphlet by the following comments and ex tracts :—

' Tne Blot on the Queen's Head, or how Little Ben, the head waiter, changed the sign of the Queen's Inn to tho Empress, Hotel, Limited, and • the consequences thereof.' Of course, everyone can read in this title, the leading idea of the work, a hearty repugnance to the Royal Titles Bill. Little Ben, the head waiter, is the present Tory Prime Minister. A daub made on the sign-board of the famous hostelry, perpetrated by this unlucky servant when unwisely attempting to repaint its time-honoured legend, is ' The Blot on the Queen's Head.' The allegory contains some felicitous touches, and, like all Mr. Jenkin's works, here and there a parody closely-bordering on tbe broadest caricature. The ex-Premier figures as a big bully, in 'Big Billy,' the present leader ot Her Majesty's Oppositon as Strong and Hearty, and our Sovereign Lady herself is introduced among the host of political personages named. As the work will bo in the hands of the public on Tuesday, on the eve of the discussion of the Eoyul Titles Bill in the House of Lords, it would hardly be fair to forestall the author's presentment of the caae, but we gladly avail ourselves of the opportunity afforded us of giving our readers a taste of the quality of Jenkin's rattling beochi.ee. Here is a samples : —

' The Queen's Inn was known the wide world over. It was, indeed, the greatest and most wonderful, inn in the world. Beginning in a humble way at some time long since forgotten, it had gone on century after century increasing its busi ness and extending its buildings, until it grew beyond the dimensions of any other inn under one management that ever was heard of. Its walls were ancient, thick, and strong—so strong that time had not crumbled them. Ago had knocked his head against them, and found it would not do. Earthquakes had tried to shake them, but they seemed to be rooted in the middle of the earth. Wars and revolutions had swept around them, and tremendous fights had occurred within them, but they re mained as solid and a3 strong as if nothing had happened. Mobs and monarchs had sworn at them in rage without producing any impression. They were not like the walls of Jericho. All the ram's horns in the universe would not have stirred an atom of morter in the powerful old building. Every one was proud of the marvellous hostelry. It had alwaya been conducted in a spirited, defiant, self-reliant sort of way. There was perfect freedom to guests to come and go. They were well treated, whoever had the management. Sometimes it was a host, sometimes a hostess, but that did not make much diff erence. The proprietors always insisted on keeping up the inn on the most liberal scale, on free and easy principles, and with perfect independence of outside influences. Any one could go to it, and waa welcome, especially it he had his pockets full ; for the inn, by the way, was a money-making concern. It laid itself out for that. But it was more. It was a refuge for all sorts of people. There were sumptuous rooms for monarchs or roving princes and princesses, or shahs, or sultans, or cadis or republican presidents, or emprors of any colour-from Ilussia to Hayti. There wero plainer rooms for poor patriots, if they happened to want to hide from their countrymen or their creditors for a few days There were even garrets where ueDipatetic revolutionists running away from the police of Germany, Bus si a, France or Spain, or other places of that sort, could find appropriate bed and greasy food Nothing was more extraordinary than the way in which this inn had a onc on extending. It was next door to <Ue ' Fro.'s and Lillies.' and for some time. long a^o, actually took up a good part of thatinn, and worked its business. lben it withdrew from that, and later on took uo houses here and there for its increas ing crowds of guests. It made provision for every colour and every kind of people. Thus at the time of which we are writing, it was a great overgrown caravansary, spreading, all over the place. The rival inns!used to laugh at it. They also used to sneer. They said that such a huge and varied business must become unmanage able, and would some day go to pieces. Here, I regret to say, that this opinion was sometimes shared by some of those

who were born and brought up under its roof. Big Billy, who was at one time head waiter, and some of the other waiters used to think so, and to wish that the proprietors would draw in their horns and abandon some of the outlying houses. They said it was a nuisence to keep them up, but tho proprietary was a large one. Great changes had taken place in it of late years. Whereas at one time it was claim ed to be the right of one supremo head manager, who was generally a fool, and one or two of them nearly brought it to bankruptcy, it had gradually come to be vested in a body of proprietors, who chose a chief manager to be host or hostess, as tho case might be, but insisted on having something to say themselves in tho management. As these proprietors lived in the place, and used to hold meetings in the bar parlour and the coffee-room, and let the officials, who consisted of the host and head waiter and a lot of subhead waiters, know pretty freely what they thought of them, it was not altogether, so pleasant to the managers as they .could have wished. But, as they wero well paid, they managed one thing very well, and that was to do what the proprietors told them, and conceal their chagrin if they felt any.' LITTLE BEN. 'Little Ben's history was a curious one. He turned out of the Jerusalem Coffee House at a very age, and totally abjured it. Then, at home, he took to chaffing Monarchy und singing song's against the established order of things, but they did I not pay. Then he became aware of a | power within him which he called an i Aryan art. He became a sign painter I and scene painter for theatres. ISTono could paint more startling and successful curtains —with bright atmospheres of Turkey red and Prussian blue, with great floating bodies of Imperial purplo clouds with gorgeous temples or palaces, fre quented by semi-nude nymphs and grand Adonises in a blaze of lustrous robes, and surrounded with Sardana'palian magnifi cence ; representing, in fact, an antique ' Aryan civilization, modified by a strongly ' oriental, not to say Judaic, tast for ' costume and ornaments of the Covent Garden or Wardour-street typo. From * these occupations he had, by dint of talent _ and self-appreciation risen from the base ■ employment of affording amusement to ' the public to the higher and nobler ' position of confidentail assistant and ' head waiter to the lady manager of the < Queen's Inn, and it must be owned he ! had in many respects discharged his ' duites in an able and commendable ' way. Tbo managers of some of the , outlying courts and housos had taken • umbrage at the slighting way in which < Big Billy, and Bobby, and othor friends ! used to speak of them. But Ben let them know through a lively, spry, and ' clever little Welshman, who used lo look , after them, that it was intended to stick ' to them and kerp them going as long as 1 possible; and, indeed, they were very l important to the success and permanence 1 of the concern of the Queen's Inn.' ' THE SIGN OF THE QUEEN. I 'It was a protty sign. It had been 1 painted many a long year ago, and many i able artists had had a hand in it. Storms i had burst over it, wind had rattled and | shaken it, fiery summers and freczy 1 winters had worked their will upon it, I Yet its glorious and pondrous colours < remained freih and untarnished as ever, 1 and whenever a weary traveller saw it his heart bounded — strangers respected, I ignorant and gentle people far off heard < of it with admiration, and often almost < took it for an object of worship. Within ' the Inn itself, excepting a few pntboys i who had thrown paper pellets at it, and as bootblack or two who got a good licking l for deriding it, it was looked upon as the ! great embodiment of the Inn —the indes- ' tructible token of its supremacy.' i

LITTLE BEN'S MISTaKE,

' Nevertheless, the Devil in some shape or other, pi.U: into the heart of the subtle Jew, Little Ban, to alter and deflower tho glory, the simplicity, the fame of this unrivalled sign. How this was I cannot tell. Though he came from the Jerusalem Coffee House, Little Ben was a thorough going Queen's Inn man, as much so as anyone iv it. But there was one thing he had not. left behind him iv Jerusalem, that was a florid, oriental, fanoy Aryan art,and a taste for dealing in Brummagem gold. It can't b9 helped—it was one of his native weaknesses. All good waiters havo such weaknesses. But it was at that weak spot that the Devil approached him, and, knowing that ho had a fancy for.titivation, and for Aryan art, and for splendour and display, aud of exciting the wonder of gods and men, and all that sort of thing, and that he was rather proud of his early sign and scene painting, the arch enemy inspired Little Ben with the idea that he could improve upon the title of the Queen s Inn and give additional splendour to the sign of the Queens's Head. Some people were wicked enough to say that the notion came from the lady of the House, but few believed it. She had always shown a just and haughty pride in her super-position

She loved the name of the inn, and the title thereof. She always upheld them both with becoming dignity. She knew there was nothing on earth superior to it in the manager's point of view, and she looked upon the newfangled, arrogant, assuming titles and signs of the more modern hostelry with respect enough lor their greatness and show, but with a proper appreciation of her own position and good name. If any of those big Imperial concerns, or their managers, were to show any airs, she could treat them with supercilious disdain. She could well afford to do so. She could not walk her enormous establishment in a week, and if these other people aid not give her due, she knew that she need not go beyond hor own house to find good custom and esteem enough to satisfy the most aspiring hostess,'

Recollections of the Franco- Prussian War.

On the 20th of January, having, received orders to slip through the Prussian corps marching to the east, and to operate on their loft flank, we started late on the morning of the 21st, having beon delayed Waiting for some stores. All the outstand ing detachments of the army corps had been recalled into Dijon, in the expectation of an onward movement in the direction of Langres. I had sent forward a section of telegraph corps that had been attached to my brgiado to connect Dijon with Messigny, a village about five miles on the road we had to follow.

As we approached this latter place we hoard the guns booming on our left. Al most at tho same time our cavalry advance-guard fell back, reporting the Prussians in tho village, and stating that firing was going on in it. The column was at once formed by fours, and the pas d'ecole taken up. In a few minutes we reached the first houses. Without alter ing our formation wo dashed into the village, and found ourselves in the midst of the enemy. In a few minutes it was cleared, aud we learned what had caused the firing prior to our arrival. The telegraph men wero quietly putting up their wires, when some of the villagers came running to tell them that tho Prussians were entering. They immedia tely dragged tho waggon they had with them into the yard of an isolated house, and barricaded themselves in it, counting on our speedy arrival. Tho Prussians summoned them to surrender, and on their refusal attacked them. I sent them back! to Dijon, and having occupied a village, called Asniere, a little to our rear, and about 300 yards from tho road, we communicated at onco with head-quarters and waited.

Scarcely had these arrangements been made when the Prussians issued from the woods in our front and attacked us, aud Asniere at the same time. After a short resistance wo wore forced back, but while reforming the troops under cover of the walls of a villa we were re-inforced by the rest of the brigade. We then proceedel to recarry the village at the point of th. bayonet Shortly afterwards orders were received to fall back on Dijon, as the attack on it threatened to assume serious proportion^ Prussian troops having made their appearance in force in the Val de- Suzon, and on tho Paques road We effected our retreat witbout b.-ing moles ted, carrying with us some 40 prisoners. On reaching a hill near Dijon, on which the road passed, wo had a splendid view of the baltic that was going on A valloy divided the two armies—in it the infantry were at close quarters—the hills on both sides were crowned by batteries sending shells their hardest at each other. As soon as wo got within range, a few mis siles were sent in our direction, and anxious to return the compliment, we left the road, and by an oblique movement to the right, placed ourselves on the enemy's left flank. Step by step the tide of battle roll ed on till darkness found tho French troops in possession of all the enemy's positions except Daix. Tho losses on both sides were very heavy. Ono of our battalions, out of 21 officers had 11 killed and >ix wounded ; we also lost one of our brigade generals, Hank Bassak, a Russian Prince, who was killed early in the morning. Our way back to the town passed through the valley that had been the scene of the hottest fighting during the day. The groans that could be heard issuing from tie darkness told of men not" yet succoured by tlio ambulances. At every few stops dead bodies would b> met with, in most, cases with their white faces turned to the sky, their extreme pallor being in strong contrast with the general gloom of the ground. Eutering Dijon, and having disposed of the brigade, so as to have it under hand in case of sudden necessity, I weant to the prefecture where the General lodged. As I arrived a deputation was issuing. It had been to request that the city might be abandoned, so as to save it from bombard ment. General Garibaldi refused th request, and declared his determination t hold it to the last, I arrived in time for

council of war that had been called to ascertain the state of the army, and in answer to a question put to us it waa found that we had only about 12,500 men on whom we could count. Our strength was numerically of 52,000 men divided into two divisions of infantry, four light in fantry brigades,"two regiments of cavalry, and fourteen or sixteen batteries of artillery. Unfortunately, tho greater portion of our troops were mobilised National Guards, and quite untrustworthy. So 12,500 men, besides the artiliery and cavalry, were all the troops we had to hold theU city with against an average 25,000 Prussians, partly replaced during each of the three days, fighting by fresh troops.

The night was passed in continual exchange of shots between the two fronts. Early in the morning, in the thick fog, the enemy tried to seize Talant, but having missed the road, nearly lost one of their batteries. The day was passed in resisting fierce attacks on the whole front, and the evening found both sides pretty much in the position of the morning. We the <tth) occupied a position to the right of fontaine. Two companies only were engaged, and our guns amused themselves every now and then by sending shells into such of the Prussian corps as came within range. In the evening the enemy showed ro intention of withdrawing, and we began to look forward with some anxiety to the coming day. The night passed off com paratively quiet, but, early in the morning of the 23rd, a most determined attack was made both on Talant and Fontaine. Then, by a sudden fi ink movement the whole of tne enemy's force was massed on the Langnvroad, and the attack recommenced from that quarter. About a mile from the town the ground, till now perfectly level and bare, rises slightly. On this slope the Chateau de Paully is built; the house is surrounded by a fine park. All this had been occupied by two brigades (8,000 men) of mobilised National Guards; but as these, as soon the Prussian skirmishers made thoir appearance, threw down their arms and knapsacks, &c, and decamped, the safety of the city was placed in great dauger for somo time. We happened to be. acting as reserved to this corps, so that we received orders to advance at once. Half way to tho chateau, standing isolated in tho fiolds, though the road passed by tho side of it, there is a bone-black manufac tory, composed of several buildings, enclosed by a wall. We succeeded in reaching and occupying this before the enemy. For some time we sustained tho shock of the enemy's attack, but at last our wings wore thrown back, and I found myself shut in with about soven hundred men.

To barricade tho gates and loopholo the walls was tho work of a few minutes, and as we had the order to hold tho place at any cost —its loss necessarily leading to the entry of tho enemy into Dijon—we felt there was little chance of coming out alive. Tho enemy's batteries began to play their hardest, and soon the place was a mass of ruins ; tho outer walls had given away in several places, and these openings becamo tho scenes of hand to hand conflicts that soon covered the fallen bricks with, human bodies. Sometimes inside, some times outside, often on all sides at once, this went on from 1 o'clock till nearly 5. During this time a column marching by fours appeared in the smoke advancing from Dijon ; uncertain whether it might not be some of our own troops, firing was suspended on that side, till suddenly, the colours being displayed, we saw the Prussian eagle. The colours fell two or three yards from the wall, and though on our first attempt we were driven in again, yet we managed at last to'gain possession of the only flag taken by the French army during the war. Tho carnage on the spot may bo indicated by the. fact that from that side 87 cartloads of dead bodies were removed next day.

When night catuo the enemy had been driven back—we wore liberated, and the Chateau de Paully was retaken. In it a captain of franctireurs was found burned to death by the Prussians. His feet and hands had beon tied, and then they had placed him on an old wooden staircase, underneath which they heaped broken wood, and then the whole was fired. The view of the battle while at its fiercest was a sight to remember. Along a front of several kilometres the rapid flashes of the rifles .looked like so many fireflies, while broader flashes indicated the position of the artillery. This was the last great action for us in this campaign; and when, a few days afterwards, we had to evacuate Dijon, in accordance with the armistice signed between the Prussian and French Governments, it was almost with feelings of pride that our army corps moved out of it—the only French army intact and unbeaten. This feeling, however, was sadly tempered by the remembrance of tho many fine fellows and personal friends we left behind buried in the 'fields around Dijon.