An' 'ere's to you, my fine Fellah, coffee 'ide and inky hair
May yet shoulder stand to shoulder with me in a British Square!
REFLECTION BY A READER OF "REMINISCENCES."
Yes, life is hard. Our fellows judge us coldly;
We mostly dwell in fog, and dance in fetters;
But sweeter far to face oblivion boldly,
Than front posterity through a Life and Letters.
That Memory's the Mother of the Muses,
We're told. Alas! it must have been the Furies!