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.
