The Press.
London, England, 1855-03-31 00:00:00

THE PRESS.

even Bourqueney, of whom I expected better things, was not greatly
shocked at this history of tyranny. lam willing to believe that my
imperfect narration had something to do with the failure, but the
despotic principles of these Courts have evidently imbited the other
negotiators.
We are approaching the third point, the recognition of Turkey
into the European family, and the destruction of Russian prepon-
derance in the Bieck Sea, and I have no hesitation in saying that I
expect to carry that point in the same triumphant manner in which I
have succeeded hitherto. I think I shall, perhaps, avail myself of the
latitude you have allowed me ; and if Russia undertakes to dismantle '
Sebastopol in the course of the next three weeks or so, I need not
tie her down to a specific day ; and as I shall order the whole of her
fleet to be immediately sent down the Bosphorus, I shall undertake
that it be not fired upon in its way. Indeed, if it were not for the
Colonies, I would myself go down to Sebastopol, see the place de-
stroyed, and then conduct the enemy's fleet in safety to Malta. But
I fear that you will expect me home.
Don't let George Grey, or any of them, meddle with my Colonies
till I come back. They have not great minds, those fellows, and they
make muddles. I have a scheme, which came into my head as I was
looking at Canova's wonderful monument to the Archduchess Chris-
tina—an odd place, you will say—for consolidating all the Colonies
into one vast province, to be called " Colonia," and to return members
direct to the English Parliament. But don't you let out about this,
or Sir W—m M—h will be saying he invented it. A Colonial
Reform Bill, en this basis, will not be bad stock for another session,
eh? Excuse my colloquialism, and believe me,
Yours ever,
JOHN RUSSELL.

PS.—Don't say anything to the House. There's a hitch. Some-
thing has occurred. I will write by the next post. Be sure you don't
say anything.

" PETER DICK."
A MINISTERIAL LYRIC.
One of the clerks had received him by whistling " Peter Dick."—Speech of Mr. W. S.
Lindsay on the Transport Service.
Good Premier keep your mind at rest,
Let things go e'er so ill
You know that aqua vans is best
In rebus arduis still.
Reply to charges with a jest,
Drop old opinions " slick ";
And if the cry of " Poland's" prest,
Just " whistle Peter Dick.' "

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di' invoker

If Lewis can't count two and two,
Why should you grieve for that?
Just send him back to the Review—
You'll find another flat.
Hundreds surround you everywhere
From whom to choose and pick;
Tho gift is one by no means rare
Of " whistling 'Peter Dick:"

While promises for work we take.,
And keep "inquiring" still,
A fool alone his heart would break
In seeking cures for ill.
Then while we for " commissions " wait
Play on the old Whig trick,
Look calmly at your coming fate,
And—" whistle 'Peter Dick !'"

PREPARATION OF " TOWER-HILL"
FOR THE EXECUTIONS ABOUT TO TAKE PLACE AT THE PAR-
TICULAR REQUEST OF A MORNING CONTEMPORARY.
Wa have reason to believe that an event as awful as the words in
which it has been so frequently demanded by a morning journal, is
really about to take place. That event is nothing less than the putting
Tower-hill to its legitimate purpose for the public execution of
Ministers of State.
We are glad to say that the only delinquents who are condemned
to suffer, so far as they have been decided upon by our venerable con.
tom; -wary, are the public men now or lately in office; the Earl of
and others, threatened from Shoe lane with a
declining days of Sir Robert Peel, being graciously

'resent.
be furnished forth after the earliest and most ap•
We believe we may state that an eminent machinist
Theatre will arrange the scaffolding, railing, carpets,
the naive en scene will owe its perfection to a well-
school of Mr. George Cruikshank, who will insure
" man in the mask" (of whose name we are in
thhold it for the present) shall glare with the most
Igh the blackest possible disguise.
ceremonies will be provided, who, having learned
Place de Greve, will warrant that Lord Palrners-
incommode hits Lordship in lying down, nor his
by the headsman.

SATURDAY,

The general guard will consist of the posse amitotic, recommended
to Lord Denman to rescue the Sheriffs of London from the House of
Commons.
An unordained clergyman, of leader-writing prowess, will deliver a
funeral oration, after endeavouring to convert Lord Palmerston on the
scaffold, a. la Burnet and Monmouth.
Should Mr. Monsell come to the block, an Irish Roman Catholic
will be prepared to write for our contemporary an extreme Protestant
article on his hardened end.
On Mr. Harrison Ainsworth declining to accept the engagement,
it is understood that Mr. Fitzball will be retained to report the execu-
tions to the entire satisfaction of that. " gigantic delusion, the,people
of England," who are to " look on with an imbecile simile' of almost
idiotic hopelessness."

AN EPITAPH.

" Macte tud trirtute, pun! Sic itur

The medical department of the army in the East being at present merely " a para-
sitical one" (vide Dr. Andrew Smith's evidence ), and not organised for more important
employ, has been intrusted with the preparation of the necessary epitaphs. Tne follow-
ing, produced by the joint efforts of that branch of the service, is not without faithfulness
and point :

Here lies beneath the Turkish mould
An English lad of heart and mettle,
Who as our soldier was enrolled
To fight his Queen's and country's battle :
Cheerly he left his pleasant home,
Promising letters long and many,
Ribands and medals and money to come,
But he never lived to send them any.

For all the weary winter through,
In the danger by day and the snow by night,
One man toiled at the toil of two,
Fighting to rest, and resting to fight.
In frost and famine his strength was spent,
Till every English town and county
Plentiful stores for their soldier sent,
But he never tried their well-meant bounty.

For after the fight at Alma's banks,
When we vainly tried the town to batter,
Waiting to charge at his place in the ranks,
A Russian shell his limbs did shatter.
Bleeding and mangled, and bruised and torn,
Every step the bandage unrending,
By worn-out pensioners wearily borne
To the rear—he took his chance of tending.

For wounded were many, and surgeons few,
And we left his veins and vessels to shower
The blood which all that sad siege through
Green coffee made thin, and salt meat sour.
We made his bed in a Turkish shed,
And warmed the shed with a fire of roots,
And sent him away in a ship that lay
Fitted—but only for belts and boots.

A hundred more on the bare, hard floor
Of those who battled for England's need,
While the Black Sea billows did whiten and roar,
In filth and tatters did groan and bleed;
Groan and bleed till the seventh day,
Crowded down in the cockpit's gloom,
But when in the Bosphorus water we lay
He made no moan for his want of room.

For after we sailed from the harbour-hill
Thrice a score in their wet graves slept,
Wrongs and secrets and sorrows still,
That sea-green sepulchre faithfully kept.
Him we bore to the hospital-gate,
And back to the beach in the piercing blast,
While order on counter-order did wait,
And wellnigh waited till need was past.

For all the life that fever did leave
Pestilent filth did poison and slay,
In the ward where we left him to groan and grieve,
Lying to die as the others lay.
We made mistake in his drink and diet,
No medicines had we to ease his pain ;
He said it waa hard, but he sank in quiet,
And he died--of departments—cruelly slain.
E. A.

temporary, aro tno pi
Derby, Mr. Disraeli,
similar fate, in the di
pardoned for the pre
Tower hill is to 1
proved models. We
from the Victoria Tb
block, &c., and that t
known artist of the
that the eyes of the
possession, but with
ghastly white throui
A master of the
his business in the :
ton's stays shall not
hair be disarranged