THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY.

Patea Mail, Volume IV, Issue 324, 25 May 1878, Page 2

THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY.

Queen Victoria, like a majority of her subjects, was not born yesterday. We must, therefore, ask our readers to indulge in a retrospect of 60 years. George 111., in whose reign Britain lost an empire in America, and gained another in India ; fought every nation of the earth, and spent a thousand millions of treasure for the freedom of the world; in whoso reign Mungo Parke explored Africa, Captain Cook the Ocean, and Sir W. Herscln 1 the Universe; in whose reign Pitt and Fox debated, Johnston and Goldsmith wrote, and Wellington and Nelson fought—is drawing near the term of his long career. Yes, tliis dull old King, who, like lead set in gold and diamonds, has occupied the most splendid throne of the ‘World, for nearij r GO years; who lias loved mutton and cabbage, and hated Catholics; who, bereft of reason, sight, and hearing, has long wandered in his purple gown from room to room in his palace, addressing imaginary Parliaments, reviewing fancied troops, and holding ghostly Courts; this King, whom the mightiest feared, to whom the proudest kneeled, for whom millions prayed- -is moving swiitiy on to where the waves of the past and the future lueak together, and the grim ferryman offers one seat to pauper and King. Sighs arc yet heard in the Court, for Princess Charlotte, the only child of the Regent, with whom the royal tine seems

to be cut oil, as the other sons of the old King were childless. But, on this 241h of May, 1810, there, is ‘joy at Kensington Palace, for the wife of the fourth son of the King has, presented the world with what is always acceptable (but then most so) —a daughter ; in duo time to be christened Victoria Alexandrian.

But, since wo have come back so far in history, we will stay and took round ou tile world into which little Victoria lias come Briton has just emerged from the greatest War the world has ever seen, in which she had fought and paid for all. The hard limes that followed the peace, when armies were disbanded, and the monopoly of commerce and the expenditure of 100 millions a year came suddenly to an end, are beginning to wear away. But the memory of the war is still fresh. There are slid, widows who wear weeds for the heroes of Waterloo, and orphans who eat rha'bread of charity, because their fathers fertilise the field they died to win. Wooden legs stump along every street, and everybody knows somebody who

“ Sits by the fire and talks the night away; Weeps o’er his wounds, or tales of sorrows done; Shoulders his crutch and shows how fields were won.”

' The oaken walls that won “thespoils of Trafalgar,” and carry 32-pounders, are still the boast of England, and no one imagines that the little Princess will reign over a Britain guarded by monsters clad in 22 incites of iron, that would shako off Nelson’s shot like hailstones, and hurl their own half-tons of metal through as many if Ids good ships as happened to be in the lino of fire.

The arts of peace also begin to pm forth their leaves and show :lint summer is near. In tliis year Sir Humphrey Davcy receives his baronetcy for his Safety Lamp. ■ Liverpool, Leeds, Manchester,and Bristol are beginning to be lighted with gas, so that, the old watchman, who trudges up and down, crying “Twelve o’clock and all’s well,” may now lay aside bis clumsy lantern, 'and the “Sons of Belied, Hushed witli insolence and wine,” will lie more careful, since night is turned into day, how tjiy.y rob and imbtreat. No Robert' Peel has yet organized the force whose members after him will be called “ 8./bbies ” and “ Peelers.” Men are acquainted with the -principle of railways in these days, but they arc sure they cannot get up the least incline or draw any w.eigbt without cogged wheels and rails; and as they have not thought of blowing the steam up the smoke fine to make a draught, they don’t know' how- to keep up steam or get up speed. But there are famous stage coacdics that, with 200 blood horses, and driver that can take a fly off the ear of tbs near-side leader without turning a liair, go from London to Exeter in thirty hours. Little think these drivers f:hat the little Princess will do it in less than five hours ! Tims the Postal service is slow and expensive, and no one can send a telegram and sing,

“ Fiom .John o’Groats to Eng'ami’s end, From Norfolk to Kilkenny, A letter now- may reach a friend, And only cost a penny.”

No Jew can sit in Parliament, for lie must swear by his faith as a Christ,ain before be can take his seat. No catholic or dissenter'can be a postmaster, or bold any other public office, for be must take the sacrament according to the rites.of the Church . of England, before entering on office. Suicides are duly punished by being buried in cross roads. The' British flag floats over hundreds-of .'thousands’of slaves, and England’s charities take dona-

tions from those whose trade is to make handcuffs for them ; but there is a man called Wilberfpr.ce, in the House of Commons. •■■■■■■

, Whalers and the bravest missionaries know a place called New Zealand, and we hear thence of a race to whom Crusoe’s savages .were nothing,, Thereis a convict colony in Botany Bay, and a younger one in Tasmania; but cities! civilization! wealth! commerce I don’t mention such things for that part of the world, or you’ll get laughed at! The Yarra is not crammed with steamers, nor stenchful with the refuse of manufactories : it is a shallow, weedy stream, where the wild fowl splash and scream. There are some remarkable men alive in tin's 1,819. On a lonely island off the west coast of Africa, quarrelling with the governor, because he was not treated as a prince, lives Napoleon. He has seen kingdoms and empires at his feet ; he lias been a puller down and setter tip of kings; but on this 24th of May, he stands on that little island, not monarch even there, and looks over the ocean that never was his, wiiose surges breaking at his feet remin 1 him of the chalky-ciiffs that gird-in that nation of shopkeepers whose gold he could not exhaust.

There, are other men of note—as Byron, Scott, ami Shelley. There is also a.young man of twenty-four called Thomas Carlylo, with no rising town in the Smith named after him. There is also a youth of nineteen called Macaulay ; yet Thucydides was the greatest historian. There are some hoys at school whom we, who have read the book of fate, will point out. That lad with dark curly hair and Jewish nose is fourteen ; limy call him Bon; he will make our little Princess an Empress'. 'That ugly boy ‘of ten is called Will Sadstone by his fellows, though is name is Gladstone. Watch him ye Irish clergy ! ho will smite you hip and thigh. There is another boy of ten, with vast perceptive organs; Charley Darwin the mime of him; lie will stir up a nest of hornets, and vex the clergy after another fashion. Alfio Tennyson is a shy boy of nine, who likes to hear stories about the good King Arthur. Poor little (barley Dickens— as he is only seven—has not begun pasting labels on blacking jars. We' prophesy that: all these will build up for themselves'imperishable temples of fame, not,a stone of which is laid on this 24th of May,.4819.