The Press. — London, England, 1854-12-16 00:00:00

We are distressed to receive further accounts of the exasperation of our men at the slaughter of their wounded, by not only the privates in the Russian force, but by the officers. We hope the reports which reach us of this cruel barbarism are exaggerated ; but many officers say that it will be impossible to keep our men within bounds when they next meet the enemy. "No quarter" is often heard muttered in the ranks, with terrible significance of tone. New anecdotes of Inker mann pour in upon us. At one part of the day, a lot of Etonians, all of the same time under HAWTREY, met together, and with a shout of " Floreat Etona" they charged, says one of our correspondents, " like "a ' rouge' under the old wall—Oppidans against Collegers. Bless " the dear old school—never was and never will be such another. We " carry that high even in the midst of the enemy. We gave HAWTREY " a cheer when an old fellow, lower down holloed out, Here goes for " " 0 rare Ben Drury," ' we dou't forget school-days even amidst the roar " of cannon." Generous England, will you sacrifice these men—the dearest and best of your flesh and blood—to the economical theories of a crotchetty CHANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER, or the petulant ambition of an incom petent War Minister ? The wholesome dread of the Opposition seems likely once again to spoil a pretty Ministerial job. When Sir J. TROLLOPE asked on Wednesday whether Mr. ABRAHAM HAYWARD had been appointed Se cretary to the Poor-Law Board, Mr. BAINES replied that Lord COUR TENAY had not resigned the office, and, therefore, that "no complete " appointment" had yet been made. Yet it is known that Lord COURTENAY, for some days past, has been busied in the Woods and Forests, and that Mr. ABRAHAM HAYWARD has been equally busied at the Poor-Law Board. The appointment of the latter• gentleman has been considered certain, though, perhaps, like poor Mr. STONOR, he may be sacrificed to the necessities of his patrons. The appoint ment—after the introduction of the Ministerial civil service scheme — to secure a purer and better distribution of patronage, would seem too rank for toleration. Mr. H*TWARD is that anomalous creature a Q.C. who never held a brief. Though unlucky in his profession, and rejected by the Temple benchers, he has yet found his fit profession. Lord CHESTERFtELD—the celebrated Lord v:e mean of course—said that every man was fit for something, and that he would be sure to succeed if he once found his proper vocation. Mr HAYWARD is a suc cessful writer of libels. He nibbles the top of his pen—well charged with venom—in the pauses of his invention. To place such a man, totally inexperienced in the public service, in so important a post, might call forth the censure of the House of Commons, and hence we suppose the reason why no complete appointment" has been made. DECEMBER 16, 1854. THE PRESS. THE WESTMINSTER OUTFITTERS. N.B.—No connection with E. Mates and Son. How choice the display of the Government mart ! How vast its profusion of talent and art ! At its Downing•street depot the public will find Such a splendid assortment by fancy designed For the head, for the feet, for the belly and back, That if, strange to think of, an ARMY should lack, Their wants will all vanish on viewing the show Of the eminent outfitters, Herbert and Co. Considering their stock both of woollen and flannel, Of under and over coats going down the Channel; Their mittens of sealskin and Buffalo hides, Their socks and their drawers, and their stockings besides ; The hareskins and bearskins they have on their shelves (The calfskins, of course, they retain for themselves) ; A shivering ARMY would instantly glow At the sight of the totals of Herbert and Co. The wounded, at least, are insured from disaster, By fifteen long miles of the best sticking-plaister ; And those who are shot will cease to be quakers, When they hear that of lint there are thirty six acres ; The gruel, the surgical comforts and stores, The ships full of bandages sailing by scores, Make the great game of battle a sham and a show, Which is nothing beside that of Herbert and Co. As for bedding, why will the sick lie on the floor, When of beds for each case at least there are four Why will they persist in enduring the worst, When this plentiful stock was at hand from the first? Why will they perversely despair and then die In sight and in reach of this famous supply Let them rise from their graves, their approval to show Of the eminent outfitters, Herbert and Co. _ THE SUM OF LORD JOHN'S SPEECH ON THE AUSTRIAN TREATY. ( See Debate of Tuesday Night ) " Now, this I advance, You may see at a glance, That though England and France, In a different zone, Have no reason to fear, Yet Vienna so near Would look very queer If the Russians came on. " Yet for many a day, Though so deep in the play, Would not Austria say To whose aid she would come. But I'm glad that at last Her dead silence has passed, And her stake in she'll cast With—l don't quite know whom. " The treaty we planned, That I hold in my hand, Which, if I understand— And I don't say I do— Will bind her thus far, That, should she go to tear, She'll fight us or the Czar, But she tron't . fight the two." TO MARKET GARDENERS AND OTHERS. HER Majesty's Government are prepared to receive tenders for the immediate supply of any quantity of autumnal cabbage•leaves, in the state of decomposition adapted for the requirements of the German Legionaries, about to be embodied. Contributions are also solicited from private gardens, with a view to lighten the estimates for the ensuing year. N.B. That after the 25th inst., the Duke of Newcastle will not be prepared to receive any further additions to his stock of pickling vinegar . A SONG FOR THE GERMAN LEGION. (Ant—Oh! The Roaat Beef of Old England.) Now England's exhausted—her powers decayed, Her Russell ashamed, and her Herbert dismayed, A Legion of Germans is coming to aid. Sing, Oh ! the sour krout of our England, And, Oh! the new English sour krout. Herr Schneider, Herr Sniffel, Herr Snort, and Herr Snores, They're coming by units, they're coming by scores, They're coming by regiments—throw open the doors. Sing, Oh ! the sour krout of our England, And, Oh ! the new English sour krout. The old British Lion is looking so shy, With his tail 'twixt his legs, and affright in his eye ; The Austrian Eagle's the bird that can fly. Sing, Oh ! the sour krout of our England, And, Oh! the new English sour krout. As the Hapsburger boasts that the game is now his, While Abby says " 'don't," but Johnny says " 'tie," Roast beef is going out, and polonies is ris. Sing, Oh! the sour krout of our England, And, Oh! the new English sour krout. It's fitting that Germans should put ue to shame, And, if we aro playing the Austrian game, That Germans should fight and be paid for the same. Sing, Oh ! the sour krout of our England, And, Oh! the new English sour krout. When Germany profits by Englishmen's need, When, thanks to the Peelites, we're running to seed, When Prussia and Austria toss for the lead, Sing, Oh ! the sour krout of our England, And, Oh! the new English sour krout. It's time that the Germane should bring us relief, That Abby should be their Commander-in-Chief, And Herbert and Pelham should bring them to grief. Sing, Oh! the sour kront of our England, And, Ohl the new English sour krout. x. 1189