That tactlessly took no account of the time
The praises of Britons are yours, in profusion;
The blame for a blunder, the judgment for crime,
Let Statesmen apportion; all know where the Honour
In Manipur's ill-managed business is due;
And _Punch_, whose delight is of praise to be donor,
Without hesitation awards it to _you_!

The terrible tale of that sudden disaster
Is vivid in memory, fresh on our ear;
We know how a tender-souled woman could master
The anguish of horror, the tremor of fear.
That short brave defence will long live in our story.
That long dreadful march England will not forget;
Though womanhood finds little comfort in glory,
For hearts that are aching and eyes that are wet.

Enough for to-day! When slow time has brought healing.
The tale of those hours by your lips may be told.
But proud admiration will scarce brook concealing,
And _Punch_ to express it is courteously bold.
He speaks for all England. For womanly valour
We men have not shaped the right guerdon,--our loss!
A brave woman's heart flushing red o'er fear's pallor,
Deserves--what _Punch_ gives--the Victoria Cross!

* * * * *

"Their acquaintance," observed Counsel, in a recent Breach of Promise
Case, "began in a 'bus." This may have been an error of expression, or