The Press. — London, England, 1855-08-25 00:00:00

AUG. 25, 1855. OUR NUT-BROWN MAID. Those most intimate with this gifted lady—those who have watched her in her quiet and un obtrusive toil by day, and her nightly wanderings through those long wards, the most terrible of human abodes—are convinced not only of the sincerity and devotion of her character, but also of her rare gifts of intellect and moral strength, which place her among the few who have conferred a lustre on her sex.—Times, Thursday, Aug. 29. In many a long and eke grave song I have rede of woman's love, How in lands afar, 'midst din of war, she has borne peace as the dove ; Aud let a wight do what he might their service to unrate, It is no man, say what ye can, to woman when ingrate. I say not this day, but for every day, it is both writ and said, That by woman's aid, when man's hands stayed, no soldier's faith decayed. Ah ! sayest thou so, then let us go straightway this fact to ken, And list to a maid who sadly said, yet bravely, to her men, " I ken you not, ye cast at lot, but brave hearts ken right well, And follow you, and die with you, and share your sickness fell. I am a maid, yet not afraid, to dare the war's affright, I am but weak, but who shall seek, when God defends the right." Then one did speak with wordes weak, as though he feared and wondered, " Why, dearest girl, thou England's pearl, should'st with the lost be numbered? Think of sweet home "—" My Church's home," quoth she, " I find in Heaven." " Think of thy pride, thy wealth so wide "—" I seek wealth without leaven." " But think thou right how many a wight for thy fair hand cloth sigh." " My country's might, the sick man's right, what better wooers I ?" " Thy form so slight, in beauty dight, it sure were ill to spoil, With foul disease, nor calm nor ease, thy fair frame to assoil. Think thou, best maid, and be it said by troth that never failed, Better were we to die for thee, than thou wert e'er assailed. Go thou to where thy face so fair may happier hearts preserve, Go, go, then to the better few such hearts as thine deserve." " It wends not so, a deed is do, whereof much good may be ; Be face so fair, be bright mine hair, how little recks it me! And sith that ye have shewed to me the honour of your mind, I will be plain to you again, and ye shall ever find That maids like me, how fair they be, will not be left behind, It shall never be said than an English maid to soldier was unkind." " But curses may fly, as sinners die, and thou to hear such cries ! And pain may sap the little hap the Christian's death relies; Think, 0 dear maid, nor be afraid, from this sad scene depart, Seek not to pain that cloudless brain, to madden that pure heart. Seek purer love, nor deem to prove thy nature soft so strong, Thy woman's right, thy little might, amongst those who wreak wrong " " Full well know we that women be but feeble for the fight, But war is the will of Heaven still, and women have their might. Thy bed I'll tend, thy sores I'll mend, and gladly to the task, Thy arm in fight, thy faith in right, is guerdon all I ask ; And if in death thy quivering breath impatient words doth sigh, I'll hush to rest thy vagrant breast with prayers that mount on high." So sang the bird, and many heard, and many a scoffer trusted In deeds of heart how brave a part to woman is entrusted. Here may ye see that women be in honour strong and stable, And weeping pray to God such may prove never variable. Let them not fail 'neath saintly vail, nor 'neath derision quail, But heart and soul to the heavenly goal!—like Florence Nightingale. KEPATAOOfLN. SUNDAY SPORTS. (From the Marylebone Court Circular.) THE band in Kensington-gardens last Sunday again attracted a nume rous and miscellaneous assemblage to the spot, among whom we noticed several distinguished members of the swell-mob. Light fingered Bob, Horse-couper Jack, and Smashing Sam, were in the inner circle, with Mademoiselle Pave and several other ladies of the bas ton. No disturbance of any importance occurred, owing to the proper precaution observed by all decent persons of keeping out of the way. A strong body of police were stationed in the magazine opposite the gardens, lest an attempt should be made to hustle the baud and rob them of their instruments. By special order of the Right Honourable Sir Benjamin Hall, Baronet, Mr. Peto, &c. &c., the band performed on this occasion the following popular airs : " The Rogues' March." " Tintarra, tintarra, Thieves all." " Ca Ira." " Nix my Dolly, Pals, fake away." In consequence of the complete success which has attended this first attempt to secularise the Sabbath and adapt it to the spirit of the age, the Right Honourable President of the Board of Works has ex torted her Majesty's gracious permission to throw open Buckingham Palace to the people between the hours of seven and twelve every Sunday evening. Arrangements are in progress for giving a hop in the Green Drawing-room. Refreshments, consisting of gin-sling and dog's-nose, with mutton pies, baked potatoes, sheep& heads, oysters, and periwinkles, will be allowed to be vended in the beautiful gardens of the palace, while the pavilion will be fitted up as a tobacco temple, and supplied with spittoons. There will be no restrictions as to dress, but placards will be conspicuously exhibited reminding Ladies and Gentlemen that they are in the palace of their Sovereign, and that it is hoped they will observe as much order and decorum as are consistent with their doing exactly as they please. We have further been informed, but do not vouch for the fact, that a fair will be permitted in the Enclosure of St. James's-park every Sunday afternoon, to commence at three o'clock. If our information prove correct, no sales of goods will be permitted except of such bon bons as brandy-balls and peppermint-drops. Space will be accorded gratis to caravan shows, and room will be reserved for cock-fighting, rat-killing, and other popular sports. The zeal displayed by the Right Honourable Baronet to promote the amusements of the million calls for some signal mark of the Sovereign's (favour, and we suggest that addresses should be got up calling on the Queen to raise Sir Benjamin to the Upper House, and to confer on him the first vacant Garter. Should, however, the ser vices of this distinguished Minister be still required to support the Government in the Lower House, Milady might appropriately be created a peeress in her own right, though we are not aware whether there is any precedent which would entitle her to take her seat in the House and hear part in the discussions of that august assembly. THE BEGGAR'S PETITION. BY A WHIG. Pity the sorrows of a poor old clan, Whose trembling limbs have borne one session more, Whose days are dwindling to their shortest span— Oh vote supplies, and don't think us a bore. These tatter'd jests our poverty bespeak. Our hoary locks proclaim our misspent years, And many a furrow in the grief-worn cheek Depicts a lamentable want of " cheers." That House in Westminster's salubrious ground With tempting aspect drew us from the road; There sapient Wood a residence has found, And Wilson a magnificent abode. (Hard is the fate of the absurd and poor !) Here, as we craved a morsel of their bread, A sad division drove us near the door To seek a shelter in a humbler shed. Oh take us to your hospitable dome, Where Smith's unknown, Wood's jests cannot bo told ; We gladly seek a passage to the tomb, Their puns so poor, and miserably old. Oh, you'd soon know the sources of our grief If lively Lewis tried to touch your breast, Or Panmure largely draw on your belief, Were Argyll's sermons in your cars exprest. Oh yes, indeed, we are a precious lot, Since first uncoalesced we hailed the morn ; Though Whigs were victims of a stupid plot From one to Whiggery in manner born. Our daughter Russell—comfort of our age— Lured by a statesman from her native home, Was cast by fourteen on the world's wide stage, Henceforth in duped obscurity to roam. And Bouverie, who announced the stern award, Struck with sad anguish and dismay therewith, Till lingering fell into the Poor-Law Board, And turned a statesman of the rank of Smith. Pity the sorrows of this wretched clan, Whose trembling limbs have borne one session more, Whose days are dwindling to their shortest span— Oh vote supplies, and don't think us a bore. THE PRESENTATION OF COLOURS TO THE GERMAN LEGION. The Duke of Cambridge was accompanied in his Inspection by Lord Palmerston, the Eari of Cardigan, Mr. Frederick Peel, rte.—Morning Post, August 23. Our Premier, we know, is a man who loves joking, In season or out of it, never mind where; In the solemnest seasons his fun he'll be poking, And cheer with his laughter a people's despair. THE PRESS.