Life — September 18, 1902 — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“LIFE The Patriotic Muse. ‘THE supply of Coronation odes—which seemed at one time inexhaustible—has at last run dry, and England must hail with relief their definite disappearance. One recalls the heartfelt pleasure with which Charles Lamb saw the Duke of Welling- ton’s ghost laid finally to rest ; nor are we ( without vivid recollections of our own patriotic song-bursts — of the Cuba Libre poems which fluttered through the newspapers soshortatime ago. Nobody writes sonnets to Cuba now. Nobody writes an ode to the Philippines. If our ghosts are not laid, we have ceased to wreathe their shades with verse. It is hardly fair to blame Mr. Alfred Austin for the thirteen couplets with which he has celebrated King Edward’s coronation. Like the Captain of the Mantelpiece: “It was his duty, and he did.” More irreproachable sentiments were never uttered in verse. A sort of Third Reader morality pervades every line, a gentle ecstasy at sight of so much goodness and greatness combined in the person of one monarch. If he be a trifle vague—as is but natural—we are content not to be too strenuously instructed on these points. Most of the poetry written for the occasion savours rather of statistics than of song; and Mr. John Davidson's ode reads like a compendium of English history, beginning with “‘ Hengist and Horsa, Cerdric, Ivar, Cnut, ‘The Conqueror—Jutes, Saxons, Angles, Danes ;”” and going down to the ‘‘ enduring peace '’ welded between Briton and Boer. We are reminded, as we read, of that perplexed professor who asked a student why he had begun every line of his theme with a capital letter, and was told, to his surprise, that the composition was in blank verse. The point on which Coronation poets have insisted most earnestly is that the King is Victoria's son. We have none of us doubted this, but from the nervous emphasis laid upon the fact, we might suppose the English nation feared a repetition of the fable which cost the Stewarts their crown. If the effusions of the past two months could be preserved from oblivion—a difficult matter—they would make curious reading for some far future day. Agnes Repplier. ‘PRE young are indignant because they are not under- stood ; the old, because they are. Li D» you and the Luptons perfect that co-operative housekeeping plan you had for the summer?" “No; we finally let itdrop. You see, the Luptons are dear friends of my family, and we all felt that if we were going to hate anybody next fall, we would sooner hate some one we didn’t like.”” A T every wedding Hope is the Best Man. In Old Nantucket Times. A REAL TRUE YARN PROM 8'CONSET. [8 old Nantucket times agone, in whaling's palmy days, Before the S'conset folk had learned new-fangled modern ways, Men oft would go to sea in ships and ne‘er be heard of more ; But sickness, death, and funerals were seldom seen ashore. Off-islanders might there be brought, with one foot in the grave, Yet even these, Nantucket breeze and brine would mostly save. It seemed as if the S'conseters were fated not to know Funereal pomp and circumstance, nor don their suits of woe. But, all things come to those who wait. The news like wildfire spread : A Boston man lay grievous ill—in fact, as good as dead. 'Twas whispered in the twilight time, with not unmixed affright, The invalid was very low, and couldn't last the night. Next morning, bright and early, came a ten-year-old wee maid, She held her little brother's hand, and neither was afraid. “We've called to see the dead man, please,"—this boon they asked, no more. “He ain't dead yet,” the woman said, who met them at the door. Her sympathetic heart, no doubt, their disappointment shared— She fain would give encouragement, and yet she hardly dared. The while she paused, the little maid did not good courage lack, But hopetully inquired again: “Please, when shall we come back ?” Henry Tyrrett, “LOOKS AS IP THE WIDOWS HAD BEEN ATTENDING A BARGAIN SALE OP MONUMENTS AT THE REMNANT COUNTER."* comicbooks.com