The Press.
London, England, 1856-10-18 00:00:00

THE PRESS.

OCTOBER 18, 1856.

is not right to form any conclusions as to the character of the one or the motives of the
other upon the testimony of a gang of thieves. Whoever may be wrong, it is quite right
that these persons cannot complain should they be deported even to Cayenne.

Who or what compels anyone to mix up these two things? Why
simply the hearsay report of an American journalist, which is without
any adequate confirmation, and which is rather a slender foundation
on which to erect so gigantic a charge. In reply to the insinuation
that the French Government will be very glad to avoid a prosecution,
we can only point to the alacrity they have displayed in the arrest oi
the offenders. Any man who chooses to suppose that his neighbour
is invariably acting a part, can always gain a temporary reputation for
sagacity. Nothing is easier than such insinuation, but it should not
be lightly hazarded when the welfare of whole nations is concerned.

The dismissal from her Majesty's service of Lord ERNEST VANE
and Cornet BIRT was merely a question of time. A court-martial
possibly would have come to that conclusion in a few days. The
young officers have forestalled such an event, for the immediate cause
of this peremptory dismissal is owing to their breaking the arrest
under Ahich they were placed previous to trial by Court-martial, and
further disgracing themselves by a riot in the streets of Brighton. His
Royal Highness the Commander• in- Chief has acted in this matter with
characteristic decision, and his recommendation to her Majesty for
the dismissal from the service of these two officers will be supported
by public opinion. The sentence has been well merited.

OVER AND OVER AGAIN.
Why,l keep on asking over and over again.--Vide Mr. Locke King's letter on "Energy and
Apathy:'—Tinter, Oct. 11th.
Oh, Honourable Locke King !
You stand not alone among men
Who go on asking the self-same thing
Over and over again.

Over and over again
I ask why did Aberdeen buy
Sadleir, Macgregor, and such nice men ?
But no one will tell me why.

Why Sir Robert, who thirsts for war
That Poland her rights may gain,
Rushes off to Moscow to toady the Czar ?
But no answer can I obtain.

Over and over again
I ask till my throat is dry
Why his brother Fred snubs all gallant men?
And I can only guess a reply.

Why bully King Bomba, why,
Till he's maddened with rage and hate,
When we never intend our aid to lend
To the dupes we hound on to their fate?

Over and over again
I'm asking the self-same thing,
Why did East Surrey's freehold men
Elect such a wasp as Locke King?

There's many a question I'd ask,
But for answers I vainly pause ;
To my frequent why I get no reply,
To my wherefore not one because.

MR. SMITH AT WAR WITH PERSIA.

Mr. Vernon Smith has declared war with the Persians.—lndian News.
Vernon Smith, 0 Vernon Smith,
Who shall henceforth call thee myth,
Who shall lightly of thee speak,
As of wind-bag vain and weak ?
" Smith a statesman? Vernon ! pooh !
Does just what he's told to do,
Happy in official lace,
And the dignity of place."
So the clubmen lately spoke.
Let the jokers cease to joke,
For the wind-bag blows a blast,
And the hour of mirth is past—
Smith, but late as bland as dove,
Dashes down his white-kid glove,
Shaking off his old inertia,
And defies--the Schah of Persia.

Heroes ever are erected
Just where they are least expected.
Say, around that Council-board
(Headed by our Moscow Lord),
Who, of all men, you'd suppose
Was least fierce and bellicose.
Who least prompt to leave his avoc-
Ation, and go shouting" Havoc,"
And on region near or far
Letting slip the dogs of war?
If you are at all discernin'
You'd select the gentle Vernon.
Nimium ne colori credo,
He's the chief for carnage greedy,
He's the wild and furious wolf
Rushing up the Persian Gulf,

Vowing, in his rage and dander,
To eclipse great Alexander,
And to drive the Schah before us,
As Fitzpbilip drove King Porus.
Nothing could surprise one more
Than our Vernon's thirst for gore.
He, renowned for gentlest loves,
Gilded chairs, and faultless gloves,
And the swell's enchanting toilette,
Pity should excitement spoil it !
Pity, should that ruffled front
Rumple in the battle's brunt,
And those boots sustain a soil
In the conflict's fierce turmoil.
Vernon, list to our petition,
Do not head the Expedition,
Do not lead the headlong charge
On the Persian's greasy targe ;
Do not, in that sweet silk hat,
Rush to succour foul Herat,
Leave that dirty work, dear boy,
To the dark, unwashed Sepoy.
0, by every soap and scent,
Do restrain thy warlike bent,
On thine ivory brush and comb
Swear that thou wilt stay at home,
Swear, upon thy frangipanni,
Thou wilt stop with Pam and Granny.
Had a war-cry broke from Wood
That one might have understood,
In the presence of his navy
He'd make Bomba cry peecari,
Or set sail for solvent foe,
Hiding out in Mexico.
Had Panmure, that Highland cateran,
Raised his voice for blood and battering,
Eager once more to parade
The fine army he has made* ;
Had Argyll, our age's lustre,
Taken a whim to bawl and bluster,
Or great Pam, to entertain us,
Oped once more the fane of Janus,
And 'mid folks who do not need 'em
Flung new promises for Freedom,
We had smiled—let every creature
Act according to his nature—
Let the alligator weep,
Donkey bray, and dormouse sleep,
Limpet cling unto the rock-head,
And the Whig act cheat or blockhead—
But, our Vernon, you, our beauty,
You turn furious ? Et tu, Brute !
" Hand we clench and sword we draw,
Vire King Vernon! Vive le Roi !"
Charge on Persia, blow on blow,
Smith's in arms, and seeks his foe.
Persian virgins, wail and weep,
Vernon Smith he ploughs the deep,
He, well versed in Persia's 100m—
(That's her carpets)—speaks her doom.
Ere a year, that hand of his
Fires a new Persepolis,
Shouting out before he fire it,
" Vernon—ver non—temper viret."f

• At least he says it was his making.—J. Graham.
+ S'emper visa—is always jolly grren.—CornewaU Lewis.

" NOTICE TO MARINERS."
"Lost a Fleet, whoever " &c. &c.—Naples Posters.
Lost, stolen, or strayed,
Or by Wood mislaid,
The property of the nation,
The Fleet that has been
For some weeks, I ween,
On the eve of a demonstration !

Oh! where can it be ?
For descriptions see
The Radical papers—passim—
When their bolts they fling
At the luckless King,
And with maniac murderers class him.

Sure some one must meet
Such a splendid fleet :
Some ships had been, 'tis true,
To the Baltic main,
But from that campaign
They returned as good as new.
Lost—something more—
The Spirit that o'er
Our councils of old presided,
Ere we'd learnt this way
To bully, betray,
And remain disgraced and derided.