From Tinsley's Magazine.
WYVIL'S HOUR.

Since the brave lad led his little band out of the

castle-gate ; And the lady, silent, calm, alone, still stood to

watch and wait.

AN INCIDENT OF THE CIVIL WAR.

I.

IX.

• You must gain us an hour, my son, gain it at Such vigils are woman's victories, she wins them any cost;

day by day Better our rixe end here, and now, than King Deeds all untold in stirring tale, unsung in minand cause be lost

strel's lay, Lost on the first proud day his foot our threshold Yet harder than the fiery feats of many a crossed.

foughten fray.

We cannot raise our flag, as erst, defiant on our

Slowly up from the banks of Ure, under the old walls,

oak-boughs, And bid our monarch rest secure mid loyal With regular soldier tramp that rang, the crouch

hearts and halls; But boys and old men answer now, when Wyvil's Came the victor ranks of Ironsides, stern tri

ing fawn to rouse, trumpet calls.

umph on their brows.

III.

XI.

But I swore by my dead lord's side — dead mid And in the midst, on serried spears, a ghastly, his gallant band,

load they bare, The bullet deep in his heart, the sword in his The blood-stain's red on the proud young face, strong cold hand

red on the bright brown hair, To spare in the royal cause nor love, nor life, nor And the old trees bent in stately grief over the land.

dying heir. IV. Take all who can strike a blow, take all who have arms to wield ;

Slowly across the drawbridge, where were none Go, with your father's sword, my boy, to your to challenge or greet ; first desperate field.

Slowly across the bannered hall, in silence grave Ha! from yon valley-side the rebel trumpets

and meet ; pealed.

Till they laid him down, the gallant boy, down

at his mother's feet.

XII.

Rest by the bonnie banks of Ure, mid the heath

er's purple flower ; Speak to the stalwart countryman of the hill

and old gray tower, And he'll tell my tale, and show the ford, and call it • Wyvil's Hour.'

VIII.

Twice has the clock boomed out, as steady and

BY CHARLES MATHEWS.

From Tinsley's Magazine. And give them the same cup of pap;

And bring both up in Surrey,
MY FELLOW-CREATURES.

Teach both Lindley Murray,

And buy them the same leather cap.
I've lived sixty-four years

Dress up both little boys
In this valley of tears,

In the same corduroys,
And seen all sorts of men, that's a fact;

And whip both with the very same rod;

You'll find all of no use,-
And I've made up my mind

One will turn out a goose, —
As to poor human kind,
That we're all of us more or less cracked. One a scholar, and t'other a clod.
It's all very fine

Teach 'em 'two tens are twenty,'
For your pompous divine

And, 'As in presenti,'
To give out from his pulpit of oak,

And put down . Quæ genus' before 'em;
That we're all • fellow-creatures;'

One quickly will holloa,
Like minds and like features;'

Mars, Bacchus, Apollo !'
0, lawk ! I call that a good joke.

Ere t'other can get out 'viorum.'
For in what we resemble, -

You may work like a nigger,
How Kean was like Kemble,

But when they get bigger
Or Byron was like Dr. Watts,

They'll grow more unlike ev'ry day;
I could never conceive;

Though they've felt the same birch,
No, nor do I believe

One will take to the church,
That teetotallers can be like sots.

T'other pay his half-price to the play.
Only take for comparison

One will idolise Homer,
Voltaire and Harrison,

And t’other Bob Romer;
Hannibal, Swift, and Fitzball;

And when they are free from the school,
And then say, if you dare,

One will live up in attics
In what they compare,

And love mathematics,
When they won't bear comparing at all.

T'other doat on Paul Bedford and Toole.
Why, there's not been a man

One man's born ferocious,
Since the world first began,

Another precocious,
Who resembled another in fact;

One lamb-like, another defiant;
And, as far as I see,

One's born for a writer,
They in nothing agree,

And one for a fighter —
Except that they're more or less cracked. One's a pigmy, and t’other a giant.
There's your friend Julius Cæsar,

We all have our breeds,
Who, 'twixt you and me, sir,

And our various seeds,
Was not a bad chap at a fight;

Just like animals, fishes, and flowers;
Now just say, if you can,

You can't make a dog
In what way such a man

From a sheep or a hog;
Can be said to reseruble John Bright?

They've their classes distinct, and we've ours · Each is cracked in his way

Who'd compare a bear's hug
And ’tain't easy to say

To the bite of a pug?
If the one or the other be right;

Who'd have felt the least pity for Daniel,
But it would be a teaser

If, 'stead of a cage
To say Julius Cæsar

With wild-beasts to engage,
Was just such a man as John Bright.

He'd been put in a den with a spaniel ?
There was Cardinal Wolsey;

You might just as well try
Who lived down at Moulsey,

To make elephants fly,
Was he, with his clerical mug,

Or convert pickled pork into venison,
Like Jack Shepherd the sinner,

As compel a born coward
Who hung out at Pinner,

To fight like a Howard -
And lived in a jolly stone jug'?

A beadle to rhyme like a Tennyson.
Would you venture to state

All our different races
That old Frederick ‘ the great'

Have stamped on their faces
Was Pierce Egan himself to a dot?

The marks that distinguish them — rather!
Or that · Lion-king Carter'

You may tell the born glutton,
Was like • Charles the Martyr,'

Who lives upon mutton,
"Judge Nicholson' like Walter Scott ?

From the savage who eats his own father.
You may argue forever

Why, just look at the Yankees !
No matter how clever,

I'd not give two thankye's
You cannot establish the fact,

For all the fine things that they teach
That an eagle's a mouse,

About men being 'equal'—
Or a pill-box a house,

They've found in the sequel
You'll prove nothing but this — that you're They can't carry out what they preach.
cracked.

While the North stuck to figures,
Now take any two gabies,

South larrup'd its niggers,
And start them as babies,

And each called its mission divine;

Punch.

A POSE FOR A PICTURE.

the People;" “ The Blessing;” “Stand up for Does any artist, desirous of distinguishing other 'notes;" and " The Peerless Magnificence

Jesus;" “Poems, with Autobiographies and himself, want a subject of which he may make a

of the Word of God.” picture for the next Exhibition of the Royal

N. Y. Evening Post, 10 Oct. Academy? Then here is one for him, in an extract from the Moniteur relative to the Spanish Insurrection :-

OUR OLD FRIEND.— Mrs. Malaprop is full of " The frigate Victoria, which had appeared before the Elections. Corunpa, retired in consequence of the attitude as

Her opinions, sh

says, with sumed by the Captain-General.”

some confusion in her mind between plums and

politics, are Preservative, and she is for the What scope this announcement affords for the Irish Church, having a cousin who is an Archconception of a grand historical picture! In deacon's Apparition. She is certain something the whole range of profane history there is only dreadful will happen to that Gladstone, who, she one instance at all nearly parallel to the wonder- hears, has crossed the Rubicund, and is perspirful fact which it proclaims. That occurred at ing with Bright and the Radicals. She has no the last siege of Acre, where the garrison imme- patience with women wanting to have votes, and diately laid down their arms on the appearance is delighted that the Reviving Banisters refused of Admiral Sir Charles Napier in the breach, them the Frances. Mrs. M. reads the foreign when he raised his walking-stick. This, how- news, as you may be sure when you hear that ever, was too simple a gesture to be suitable for she talks about the Bonbons being driven out of pictorial illustration. But if there is

any
British

Spain.
Artist sufficiently endowed with that sense of

Punch. grandeur which is characteristic of Continental genius, he can emboly it in a portrait of the Captain-General of Corunna, as he appeared in Upon the principle that a member of Parliathe attitude in consequence of which the Vic- ment has no opinions beyond those with which toria retired.

his constituents entrust him, it may be main

tained that a clergyman's only duty is to supply The Rev. Dr. Morse in the first edition of his gaz- the religion and the morality of which his conetteer stated that “ Albany is a town of 800 houses gregation approves. Such seems to be the the. and 4000 inhabitants all standing with their gable ory of the Congregationalists worshipping : ends to the street."

Broadstreet Chapel, Reading, who have callel upon their pastor to vacate his holy office, on the

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