AUGUST 2, 1872

WE welcome you, Lords of the Land of the Sun!
The voice of the many sounds feebly through one;
Ah! would 't were a voice of more musical tone,
But the dog-star is here, and the song-birds have flown.

And what shall I sing that can cheat you of smiles,
Ye heralds of peace from the Orient isles?
If only the Jubilee--Why did you wait?
You are welcome, but oh! you're a little too late!

We have greeted our brothers of Ireland and France,
Round the fiddle of Strauss we have joined in the dance,
We have lagered Herr Saro, that fine-looking man,
And glorified Godfrey, whose name it is Dan.

What a pity! we've missed it and you've missed it too,
We had a day ready and waiting for you;
We'd have shown you--provided, of course, you had come--
You 'd have heard--no, you would n't, because it was dumb.

And then the great organ! The chorus's shout
Like the mixture teetotalers call "Cold without"--
A mingling of elements, strong, but not sweet;
And the drum, just referred to, that "couldn't be beat."

The shrines of our pilgrims are not like your own,
Where white Fusiyama lifts proudly its cone,
(The snow-mantled mountain we see on the fan