THE NEW NORTH-WEST PASSAGE.
A Colloquy on the Canadian Shore.
Canada. "Westward the course of empire takes its way."
Britannia. The Bishop's famous line, dear, bears to-day Modified meaning; westward runs indeed The route of empire,—ours!
Canada.If I succeed In drawing hither Trade's unfaltering feet And yours, my triumph then will be complete.
Britannia. Across your continent from sea to sea All is our own, my child, and all is free. No jealous rivals spy around our path With watchfulness not far remote from wrath. The sea-ways are my own, free from of old To keels adventurous and bosoms bold. Now, from my western cliffs that front the deep To where the warm Pacific waters sweep Around Cathay and old Zipangu's shore, My course is clear. What can I wish for more? To your young enterprise the praise is due.
Canada. The praise, and profit, I would share with you. Canadian energy has felt the spur Of British capital; the flush and stir Of British patriot blood is in our heart; Still I am glad you think I've done my part.
Britannia. Bravely! Yon Arctic wastes no more need slay My gallant sons. Had Franklin seen this day He had not slept his last long lonely sleep Where the chill ice-pack lades the frozen deep. "It can be done; England should do it!" Yes, That is the thought which urges to success Our struggling sore-tried heroes. Waghorn knew Such inspiration. Many a palsied crew Painfully creeping through the Arctic night Have felt it fill their souls like fire and light. Well, it is done, by men of English strain, Though in such shape as they who strove in vain With Boreal cold and darkness never dreamed When o'er the Pole the pale aurora gleamed Perpetual challenge.
Canada.Here's your Empire route! A right of way whose value to compute Will tax the prophets.
Britannia.Links me closer still With all my wandering sons who tame and till The world's wild wastes, and throng each paradise In tropic seas or under southern skies, See, Halifax, Vancouver, Sydney, set Fresh steps upon a path whose promise yet Even ourselves have hardly measured. Lo! Far China brought within a moon or so, Of tea-devouring London! Here it lies, The way for men and mails and merchandise, Striking athwart your sea-dividing sweep Of land; one iron road from deep to deep! Well thought, well done!
Canada.No more need you depend On furtive enemy or doubtful friend. Your home is on the deep, and when you come, To the Dominion's land you're still at home.
Britannia. And woe to him the Statesman cold or blind, Of clutching spirit or of chilling mind, Pedantic prig or purse-string tightening fool, Who'd check such work and such a spirit cool! Yours is the praise and may the profit flow In fullest stream, 'midst your Canadian snow A true Pactolus. Trade's prolific fruit, Should freely flourish on our Empire Route.
Loaded with Presents.—In the account given in the Times (Oct. 7) of the unveiling of Mr. Boehm's statue of the Queen in the presence of its donors, Her Majesty's tenants and servants on the Balmoral Estates assembled at Crathie, there is a funny misprint:—
"At this point (i.e. after Her Majesty's reply to the Prince of Wales's address) the soldiers saluted and fired a feu de foie."
As refreshments were supplied by the Queen's command immediately afterwards, perhaps the guns had been loaded with "foie gras," tightly compressed into cartridges.
