The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1875-05-15 00:00:00

[From Punch.]
VICTORIA.

(See Speech of Srp. G. BOWEN, Governor of Victoria, at the
Dinner given to him on Thursday, April 2).)
Hail, far colonial Commonwealth,
Where a young giant, full of health,
Sprung from the loins of England, grows
To greatness in a calm repose;
Where wealth that comes from crowded mart
Is spent on Letters and on Art;
Where Englishmen work well together
Under divine Italian weather;
Worthy you are to bear the name
Of the great Queen whose dearest aim
Is peace to all beneath her sway—
VIOTORU !

Australian waters sball not feel
The cleavage of a hostile keel,
Nor foeman's flag from Europe toss
Beneath the silver Southern Cross:
There terrors of invasion cease,
And all men learn the Arts of Peace;
There poets of a newer type
Shall greet us, when the Age is ripe,
And Melbourne, strong and youthful town,
Shall share Athena's Violet Crown,
Ere many decades pass away—
VICTORIA!

Shame to the dullards who desire
To quench our colonising fire,
To keep the imperial instinct down,
And make a fool's cap of the Crown.
It shall not be; while ocean rolls,
And Englishmen have gallant souls,
And court the strong heroic hour,
While Freedom is a word of power,
While great colonial nations rise
In alien seas, 'neath unseen skies,
We do not dread that servile day—
VICTORIA

HOLY THURSDAY IN PARIS.
The Paris Correspondent of The Times, writing under
date the 6th bust., thus describes how Ascension Day is kept
in that city
" Ascension Day is kept as general holyday in Paris.
Most of the newspapers do not appear, the Bank of
France and the majority of shops are closed, and even
the Bourse, for once, does not resound with the hoarse
cries of the stockbrokers. Races are held in the Bois-
de-Boulogne and the Champs Elysees rad the Boule-
vards are crowded with holyday-maers who seem
somewhat at a loss how best to spend the momen-
tary relief from everyday toil. in fact, the Parisian
holyday-maker, if he has a purse as light as his
heart, is necessarily restricted to the comparatively
limited area of the town, for the French railway
and steamboat companies invariably raise their
fares 50 per cent. on Sunday and fête days, and no
cheap excursion trains run for the benefit of those
who would be glad to spend twelve hours in the
country. Accordingly, the Parisian artist, who very
sensibly, prefers to spend his money inside, instead
of outside the metropolitan area, will shave himself,
put on a black coat, have his boots polished, and
then, with a gorgeous cane in his hand and a five-
centime cigar in his mouth, will, in company with
a select band of acquaintances, both t male and
female, commenoe the day by is hearty breakfast at
one of the cheap restaurateurs. Breakfast over, the
holiday-maker is a little undecided as to his move-
ments, and a conference is held on the sPot. Jules,
whose uncle is a knacker, is decidedly lin favour
of the Races, and proposes that the party shall
mount one of those four-horsed char-d-bancs, which
look like dissected railway carriages. Anatole,
who is a sign-painter, proposes a visit to the
Salon, as it is a free day, and in this be is warmly sup-
ported by Alphonse, a journeyman tailor, who takes
every opportunity of studying the fashions of by-gone
days. The amendment finds favour, moreover, with
the majority of the fair sex, and is then and there put
to the vote and carried. After the party has saun-
tered leisurely along the Boulevards, a halt is called in
front of the Palais l'lndustrie to raise capital to defray
the purchase of a catalogue. Anatole takes command
of the party and acts as cicerone, though in consequence
of the meagre information afforded by the official
handbook he is, I am afraid, compelled to draw
largely upon his imagination for correct descriptions
of the pictures. One law, however, is with him as
that of the Medea and Persians—a man in a red coat
is always an Englishman, and a lady scantily
attired cannot but be Venus. Pictures representing
incidents of the late war are, however, the favourites,
and common acquaintances in the ranks of the French
Army are recognised in a way which sayn much for
the skill of the artist in delineating features. After
being hustled about for some two hours, an evacua-
tion of the place is unanimously agreed upon in hasty
council, an expedition in quest of "bocks " of beer
and " mazagrans " at once set on foot and successfully
carried out. The interesting dramatic entertainment
of that world-wide comedian Gnignol, otherwise
Punch, wiles away another half-hour, and is followed
by an appreciative survey of the numerous vehicles
and gaily-dressed pedestrians who pass to and from
the Arc de Triomphe. It is nearly half-past four when
Louis, a retired pompier of the Empire, suddenly
remembers that the band of the 6th Regiment is to
play between five and six in the Tuileries Gardens.
Thither, therefore, do our holyday-tnakers bend
their steps and listen to the music w bile the sun
comes less hotly athwart the white blossoms and
tender green leaves of the chestnut trees. Dinner
follows on the same scale as the repast in the
morning, only this time there is more of very blue
wine. They leave the re,staarant and make their
way to the Boulevard de Strasburg, for the party
mean to patronise the feerie "Riquet Is la loupe "
at that popular establishment the Theatre des Arts.
There, after the manner of pleasure-seekers in all
countries, they roar at the low comedian cry " Bis "
after the songs, and salute the premiire clanseuse.
During the entr'actes oranges and barley-sugar
sticks neatly enveloped in coloured paper, gallantly
offered by the gentlemen to the fair sex, are largely
consumed, and a little dispute between Louis the
Imperialist ex-pontpier and Alphonse the Republican
tailor as to the advantages of free admission to the
theatres on fête days during the Second Empire is
brought to an amic,able conclusion by a fraternal
" bock " in an adjoining traiteur's. So, when the cur-
tain has descended on the transformation scene, and
MM. Jules, Anatole, Alphonse, and Co. have smoked
their innocent cabbage leaves on the way home, they
part, vowing that on the next grand Me day they will
enjoy just such another holiday.