"NOT SUCH A FOOL AS HE LOOKS!"

H. M. Stanley. "NOW THEN, STOOPID! KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN!!"

Leo Britannicus, loquitur;—

Good Gentlemen both, you're on opposite tacks!

Well, your plans you are perfectly welcome to try on.

They talk of the patience of lambs, or park hacks;

They're not in it, my lads, with an elderly Lion.

A Lion, I mean, of the genuine breed,

And not a thin-skinned and upstart adolescent.

Dear me! did I let everybody succeed

In stirring me up, or in making things pleasant,

By smoothing me down in a flattering style,

I'd have, there's no doubt, a delectable time of it.

You think I look drowsy, and smile a fat smile;

Well, what if I do? Where's the very great crime of it?

A Lion, you know, is not all roar and ramp,

So, Stanley my hero, why worry and chivey?

Mere blarney won't blind me; I'm not of that stamp;

So don't hope to hypnotise me, good Caprivi.

Why, bless you, my boys, long before you were cubbed

I was charged, by your betters, with being too lazy;

But rivals have found, when outwitted or drubbed,

That a calm waiting game is not always so crazy.

In Indian jungles, American plains,

And far Eastern wilds, they have fancied me "bested,"

Because, when hot rivals were hungry for gains,

I kept my eyes open, and patiently rested.

A stolid and sleepy expression will steal

At times, I'm aware, o'er my leonine features;

But, when the time's ripe, my opponents may feel

I'm not the most easily humbugged of creatures.

In North as in South, in the East as the West,

Opponents have planted their paws down before me.

But where are they now, boys? J'y suis, j'y reste!

Staying power is the thing; so don't bully and bore me.

I hear you, my Stanley, I hear you and mark;

To snub you for patriot zeal were ungracious;

But—well, after all, on your Continent Dark

My footprints are plain, and my realm's pretty spacious.

I don't mean to say that a purblind content

My power should palsy, my policy dominate,

And Congos and Khartoums that pay cent. per cent.

Are tempting, but arrogant haste I abominate.

My "prancing proconsuls" not always are right,

Whose first and last word for old Leo is "collar!"

I'm not going to flare up like fury and fight

Every time someone else wins an acre or dollar.

But if you imagine I'm out of the hunt

Every time I take breath, you are vastly mistaken:

I know you're a brick, and like language that's blunt;

Well, Lions sleep lightly, and readily waken!

For you, friend Caprivi, your manners are nice,

Your style of caressing is verily charming;

How soothingly sweet is your placid advice,

Your mild deprecation is almost disarming;

Almost, but not quite, for 'tis true Teuton law

That unfailing defence is the root of the matter;

And Leo is fully aware tooth and claw

Must not be talked off e'en by friendlies who flatter.

Your prod, my good Stanley, Caprivi, your pat,

Are politic both; I've an eye upon each of you.

The lids may look lazy, but don't trust to that;

I watch, and I wait, and I weigh the 'cute speech of you.

I do not mind learning from both of your books,

But though you may think Leo given to slumber,

He may not be quite such a slug as he looks,

As rivals have found, dear boys, times out of number!

Amongst Cambridge cricketers Mr. Gosling and Mr. Henfrey may be trusted to avoid duck's eggs. Mr. Rowell prefers to bat well; and Mr. Leese wishes he had a freehold when he is at the wickets. With Woods, a Hill, a (Streat)field, a (Beres)ford and a (Cotte)rill, there's plenty of variety about Fenner's ground at present.