When sudden through the haze, The foemen heave in sight, And again those broadsides blaze In the mimicry of fight-- But yet, from out the cannon's harmless roar, Speaks a warning true and deep, Of the floating powers that sleep, The curse of war to keep From our shore!
The friends of peace may chide, But not the less 'tis true, There's a time our strength to hide, And a time to show it, too; 'Tis not always true economy to save-- Then wherever ocean rolls, From the equator to the Poles, May our hearts of oak bear sail, True and brave!
AN OBTUSE ANGLE?--Attempting to catch a perch with a hook, but no bait.
[Illustration: CAUTION TO TRAVELLERS DURING THE HOT WEATHER.
NEVER GO TO SLEEP WHILE YOU ARE HAVING YOUR HAIR CUT IN PARIS, OR, IT MAY BE CUT IN THE FIRST STYLE OF FASHION.]
I had the advantage of inspecting the Review of the Fleet from a peculiar point of view. Before me was an enormous volume of smoke, which completely prevented me from seeing the vessels; it was, however, a volume in which I think I read something to the purpose.
There is, perhaps, hardly any mind wherein the tremendous roar of 1,076 guns, the smallest of which are 32 pounders, and the largest throw 68 lb. shot and 84 lb. shells, would not excite some degree of emotion of some sort.
The boom of each Brobdignagian piece of ordnance inspired me with a sum in mental arithmetic, which the immediate thunder of another explosion prevented me from carrying out with strict accuracy. The problem, however, was simple enough. So much noise, so much gunpowder, so much money. So much money; so much taxation. The scene--of smoke chiefly--was too sublime; the noise was too overwhelming; perhaps I had also drunk too much brandy and water: to admit of my COCKERING myself in exact calculation; but I ciphered roughly in a mental soliloquy, thus:--
Bang! There goes the Income Tax. Bang! That's the Succession Duty. Bang! Bang! That's the Stamp and Paper Duties. Bang! Bang! Bang! There's the Assessed Taxes. Bom! the Malt Tax. Pop! the Wine Duties. Pop-pop-pop! The rest of the Taxes on Consumption.
All this money gone in fire and smoke? Not so--the greater part of it, doubtless in national defence and Peace Assurance; but is it not just possible that a rather enthusiastic nation may get a little too fond--as it has been ere now--of gunpowder and artillery; a little too prone, if it does not take care--no disparagement to Chobham Camps and Spithead Reviews--to amuse itself by playing at soldiers and sailors.