"MASTERLY INACTIVITY."

["The terms of the Treaty give complete satisfaction to the claims of France."—M. le Myre de Vilers on the Franco-Siamese Draft Treaty.]

John Bull, loquitur:—

Settling it! Humph! And my Jingoes, no doubt,

Would like me to shout "British Interests!" and "Robbery!!!"

Well, of course, 'tis quite clear what those two are about,

But I do not feel called on to kick up a bobbery.

Poor little Siam! It's rather a shame;

But—at present—I shan't take a hand in the game.

Complete satisfaction? Well, that's something gained!

"The claims" I had fancied a trifle elastic;

"The terms" looked ambiguous, made to be strained,

To politic pressure prepared to be plastic.

Micawber craved time, and a chance of "turn-up;"

And craft has its uses as well as a Krupp.

Sturdy assertion on one side that table,

While scared acquiescence is seen on the other!

Further development of the old fable.

Wolf and the Lamb next, as brother with brother,

Or new Franco-Siamese twins may appear;

Well, I pity the Lamb, but I feel little fear.

It isn't smart Treaties alone secure Trade,

And if I keep the Trade they may keep all their Treaties.

'Tis not by mere craft your true Trader is made.

The Frank as a diplomat neat and complete is,

As Colonist-Trader, at settlement—shipment—

Well, there's something seems wanting about his equipment.

Trade gravitates somehow, by natural law,

To stickers and stayers, the firmest and fittest.

A fig for mere parchment and diplomat jaw!

Dear France, thou thy insular neighbour oft twittest

As "Shopkeeper"! Well ma'am, j'y suis, and shall stop;

For a Shopkeeper's one who—of course—keeps the Shop!

I've had some experience. Far Hindostan,

And Canada, Africa, Egypt—ah! pardon!

That's just a sore point, and I am not the man

A rival of me and my ways to be hard on.

No; at a neat "counter" a cur only blubbers;

And they who play bowls must expect to have rubbers.

I may have a word to put in by and by;

Young Rosebery, doubtless, will know how to put it.

At present on matters I'll just keep an eye.

The World's gate is Trade, and nobody can shut it

So tight—by mere Treaties—skill can't turn the handle.

One might as well bolt the back door with a candle.

'Tis all Swag and Swagger! I very much fear

That's true of us cock-a-whoop "Civilised Races,"

Who hold that our "Influence" must find its "Sphere,"—

At the cost of the poor yellow-skins or black faces.

We are so much alike, 'twere sheer cant to upbraid,

So I mean to stand-by—and look after my Trade!