THE MARTINET.

OME time ago, in simple verse

SOM

I sang the story true

Of CAPTAIN REECE, the Mantelpiece, And all her happy crew.

I showed how any captain may
Attach his men to him,

If he but heeds their smallest needs,
And studies every whim.

Now mark how, by Draconic rule
And hauteur ill-advised,

The noblest crew upon the Blue

May be demoralized.

When his ungrateful country placed

Kind REECE upon half-pay,

Without much claim SIR BERKELY came, And took command one day.

SIR BERKELY was a martinet--
A stern unyielding soul-
Who ruled his ship by dint of whip

And horrible black-hole.

A sailor who was overcome

From having freely dined,

And chanced to reel when at the wheel,

He instantly confined!

And tars who, when an action raged,
Appeared alarmed or scared,
And those below who wished to go,
He very seldom spared.

E'en he who smote his officer

For punishment was booked,

And mutinies upon the seas

He rarely overlooked.

In short, the happy Mantelpiece,
Where all had gone so well,

Beneath that fool SIR BERKELY'S rule
Became a floating hell.

When first SIR BERKELY came aboard

He read a speech to all,

And told them how he'd made a vow

To act on duty's call.

Then WILLIAM LEE, he up and said (The Captain's coxswain he),

"We've heard the speech your honour's made, And werry pleased we be.

"We won't pretend, my lad, as how

We're glad to lose our REECE; Urbane, polite, he suited quite

The saucy Mantelpiece.

"But if

your honour gives your mind

To study all our ways,

With dance and song we'll jog along
As in those happy days.

"I like your honour's looks, and feel
You're worthy of your sword.
Your hand, my lad-I'm doosid glad
To welcome you aboard!"

SIR BERKELY looked amazed, as though

He didn't understand.

"Don't shake your head," good WILLIAM said, "It is an honest hand.

"It's grasped a better hand than yournCome, gov'nor, I insist!"

The Captain stared-the coxswain glaredThe hand became a fist!

Bab

"Down, upstart!" said the hardy salt;
But BERKELY dodged his aim,
And made him go in chains below:
The seamen murmured "Shame!"

He stopped all songs at 12 p.m.,
Stopped hornpipes when at sea,
And swore his cot (or bunk) should not
Be used by aught than he.

He never joined their daily mess,
Nor asked them to his own,
But chaffed in gay and social way
The officers alone.

His First Lieutenant, PETER, was
As useless as could be,

A helpless stick, and always sick
When there was any sea.

This First Lieutenant proved to be

His foster-sister MAY,

Who went to sea for love of he

In masculine array.

And when he learnt the curious fact,

Did he emotion show,

Or dry her tears or end her fears
By marrying her? No!

Or did he even try to soothe
This maiden in her teens ?

Oh, no!—instead he made her wed
The Sergeant of Marines!

Of course such Spartan discipline
Would make an angel fret;

They drew a lot, and WILLIAM shot
This fearful martinet.