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nicle, now before us, states that sixpounder British guns are to be opposed (should a meeting take place) to Russian nine-pounders. Even the Times owns to an earnest wish that our artillery was double its present strength, and assigns the necesssity for that wish as a reason for avoiding field operations at the present time. Is this a blunder, or an unavoidable result of the insufficiency of our force of artillery, or of the want of means of transport? The question, of course, will be asked, and we trust the possible answer may be satisfactory.
Everyone is familiar with the statements of the Times correspondent at Gallipoli, with reference to the commissariat and medical departments, and we need not repeat them at length. Everyone also knows that, notwithstanding the denials of ministers in both Houses of Parliament, these statements have been proved to be true. There were no commissariat arrangements made preparatory to the arrival of the troops; there was no sufficient commissariat staff; there were no hospital arrangements; there were no medical stores or comforts. The purveyor's staff consisted of an hospital sergeant with a sovereign in his pocket, of which he could not get change, and consequently could not procure the merest necessaries for the sick. All this, and much more, has been proved beyond a doubt. And here again questions must be askedWhy has this been so? what has been done to set matters right? As to the commissariat failures, we believe they may be accounted for by the fact of there being practically no Secretary for War, without a necessity for throwing blame upon the department. There being no one to look after the general interests of the army; the commander-in-chief being employed in distributing commissions, the adjutant-general in assigning stations, and the clothing-colonels in computing off reckonings; the commissariat department was allowed to fall into abeyance. There has practically been no commissariat for several years-only a few Treasury- clerks, employed in totting up figures and checking defaulters in the public offices. A commissariat staff cannot be improvised, and hence the absence of one at Gallipoli.
But the failures in the medical arrangements cannot be so explained. There is, and has been, a directorgeneral, and a complete staff, in active working order-what have they been about? This question also needs an answer; and when it shall be vouchsafed, we trust it will contain a satisfactory explanation of the present state of the department. It certainly does seem strange that, if the head of it be competent to his duty, so obvious and well-known an arrangement as that of an hospital-corps should have been forgotten, or left to be suggested by a gentleman not employed on the medical staff, and that the organisation of it should be committed to him. It seems not less strange that the Secretary for War should be kept in such thick ignorance of this branch of the army, as to be led to state, within the last few days, that an ambulance corps was an entire novelty, likely to provoke the imitation of continental nations, the fact being that it was in effective operation under Barons Percy and Larrey in the French army fifty years ago. There is another circumstance in this case for which also we find it extremely difficult to find any satisfactory explanation. About the year 1840, a medical officer of high rank and very distinguished name was sent to Turkey by Lord Palmerston, in charge of a party, for the purpose of ascertaining the state of military medical arrangements there, and of forming, if possible, an efficient medical staff in the Turkish army. That officer is, we believe, very much senior in rank to the present director-general, and has greatly the advantage of him in military experience. He is also, as we understand, in health and vigour. Was his advice or assistance asked in the conduct of the medical arrangements for the army of the East? If not, why not? But failing time and space warn us to conclude, which we do with the expression of a sincere hope that the Duke of Newcastle may improve the leisure now secured to him, and turn his acknowledged great talents from the work of ordering, and hoping for the accomplishment of his orders, to that of examining into the capabilities of the departments of the army, and the competency of their several heads.
A LEGEND OF EDEN.
BY M. J. T.
ADAM went forth from Eden, bearing thence
Rich with bright flowers and fruits, all glowing still, Fragrant, and fair, and tempting to the sense.
But lo a marvel-sudden from the stem
Fell fruit and flowers as smit with canker breath, (To Eden flowers the outer air was death); Only a dry, bare branch remained with them.
Adam lived long repentantly, and when
He at the last lay dying, did he crave
Of Eve to plant the bough above his grave, Sole relic left of Eden, kept till then.
And told her that whene'er that stem should bloom
These were his words. Eve was no novice strange
Still did she act on them, and plant the bough.
Noah through the Deluge bore it in the ark:
Change, yet was none the watcher's eyes could mark.
Ages rolled on, and still the bough was seen
Dry, withered, under each successive spring;
Shadows on earth, from foliage fresh and green.
Dry staid it, till one night a mystic star
Mild, healing, all unlike the withering blaze
And the sap rose within it, and it grew,
Putting forth tender buds like emerald gems; Studding the surface of its rugged stems, Developing strange beauty, strange and new.
And growing with its growth, a little Child
Pause here awhile, my verse, a little space;
Pause we, the noontide sun is glowing fierce,
But still, nor fruit nor blossom did it bear,
A crowd press eager up the hill of scorn,
And in the midst is One whose steps they urge;
One worn and faint, and drooping from the scourge,
Robed regally, and diademed with thorn.
Alas for Adam! his luxuriant tree
Is hewn to form an instrument of death, That Simon the Cyrenian stoops beneathThe cross accursed. Ah! did he this foresee?
Did not it bear most wondrous fruit that day,
Strange legend this-my feeble eyes wane dim,
THE CRESCENT AND THE COSSACK.
BY H. N. LEVINGE.
Behold, oh! mother-earth, once more
Swoop down the hordes of Cossack blood,
Under Attila's banner red,
Upon the turbid Danube's banks,
Where Rome's last veteran "legion"-ranks Sank down beneath their whelming tread.
Behold a despot, greedier yet
Than he surnamed "the scourge of God,"
Camps on that field by him once trod,
Before whom Rome's dimm'd glory set.
Lured by a more deceptive star
Than led the old barbarian King—
"To quench the old poetic fire,
Whose bursts of most celestial light'
Transmitted through blind Homer's lyre."
To chain art's soaring spirit down,
And ban the soul that dares to try And reach those fairy realms on high, Where Raphael won his dazzling crown.
These be his aims. Oh! thou bright sun,
In vain beneath thy quickening might
If Freedom, Poet, Art no more,
Upon the gems of thought divine That slumber in the soul supine, Their vivifying beams may pour.
But lo! above the Moslem spears,
Meet symbol of our glowing hope,
And thought of resurrection fires
Wherever clank of chain may be,
Beneath our heaven-true souls uplift
Of freedom's nobler destiny.
Oh! Lord of hosts, in mercy soon,
Spite of the Cossack steeds and guns, Unto these "heavy laden" ones Vouchsafe thy holiest, brightest boon.