THE QUEEN AT HATFIELD.
In days of old in Hatfield halls,
They feasted late and early,
The grave Lord Keeper led the brawls,
And danced beside Lord Burleigh.
The stars of great Eliza's reign,
Were seen in all their glory,
Smart Essex girt with golden chain,
And Raleigh known to story.
'Tis said that 'neath a Hatfield Oak,
Elizabeth was sitting,
When courtiers hastened there and spoke,
In lowly tones, befitting
The mighty message that they bore;
There, where the leaves waved o'er her,
They hailed her Queen from shore to shore,
And humbly bowed before her.
And now another Queen has gone
Where Hatfield lawns are shady;
The ancient oaks have looked upon,
Another gracious Lady.
Once more a Cecil plays the host,
And bows in Royal presence;
What wonder if Queen Bess's ghost,
Looked down upon the pleasance.
The past and present seem to meet,
In those historic portals;
Methinks our modern Statesmen greet,
Elizabeth's immortals.
And, as the phantoms fade away,
While bells clash from the steeple,
They cry, "Long live Victoria,
To bless her loving people!"
Very Annoying.—Just when everything was going along so smoothly, just when the Jubilee police arrangements had been so successful as to warrant a tribute from Chief Commissioner Punch, and a recognition from Londoners generally, to have these police difficulties suddenly sprung upon Sir Charles Warren was enough to drive him wild,—enough to make him a rabid Warren. But he has taken the right course, and much good will come out of all this trouble. Cheer up, Sir Charles! Anyhow you are not in for a Cass-tigation.
On Messrs. Richard Bentley and Sons' list of books appears Mr. Hissey's Journeys in England. What an unpleasant visitor, if he is only true to the name of Hissey, and makes the tour of the Theatres in London and the provinces. Managers, beware!