POETRY.

A LETTER ON THE CRISIS.

(Written from Manchester in answer to a friend in London.)

I DON'T know why you ask me I But is the world now grown so for wise

My thoughts about this cruel That we must always judge by war, size Or why you think, because I live In Manchester, that I must give My heart and soul to Honest John, Who lately gave his views upon The higher needs of life; and why Plain, simple men like you and I Ought to like Kruger and his ways Better than some folks whom men praise.

In some ways, I must say, Old Paul Has got good points in him; why, all We Englishmen admit his luck Was backed up by a deal of pluck.

He has a way of sitting firm Where other men would have to squirm, To keep a seat upon the back Of not a Hyde Park kind of hack.

My wife says, too, she likes a man

Who handles texts like parsons can.

And tho' I must admit that she Loves Scripture more than you and me, Still there is always something stable In a mind fixed on Cain and Abel.

'Tis curious tho' to sae how much These texts do differ in the Dutch ; The blessings in my favourite

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All sound in Kruger's mouth like curses ; I did not think our dear old Bible Had such materials for a libel.

I read a book not long ago About the war in Mexico, And Honest John, who is my friend, Seems to be trying to pretend That the yard-tape of H. Biglow Will suit the coat of our friend Joe.

He says, we must resist tempta- tion

To bully such a little nation. I DON'T know why you ask me I But is the world now grown so

T My thoughts about this cruel That we must always judge by Of who is right when folks fall out; Only the other way about From what it was in men's opinions When Saturn governed his do- minions ?

Supposing now that we are wrong

With Kruger, just because we're strong,

I guess again that those are right Whom he's oppressing with his might.

And rifles turned against my brother

Are just as bad as any other. You see this little argument Is not what I call Heaven-sent. My friend—'tis John I mean—

protests Against financial interests, And cunning men of greedy mind Who have a private axe to grind.

Does he deny there're others who Have axes in Pretoria too ?

But 'John's suspicion always tends

To concentrate upon his friends; To stand quite high in John's respect

You should have Robespierre's intellect, With Danton's great emotions shown Upon some platform not his own.

A middle distance suits John best, The foreground loses interest. But you're not fair—I hold a man Who's always bravely partisan Of what is best on t'other side, Who thinks that on the Great Divide The streams flow purer 'way from him, Is just the chap whom those that trim Will find a tidy nut to crack. So if you want my answer back Next time you write, just curb your pen.

And you may hear from me again.

—Yours respectfully, Manchester.

JOHN RAMSBOTTOM.