"THE PORT FOULKE WEEKLY NEWS." 181 



in a sling. There is a fair sprinkling of " enigmas," 

 "original jokes," ''items of domestic and foreign in- 

 telligence," " personals," " advertisements," &c., &c., 

 among a larger allowance of more pretentious effu- 

 sions. Among these latter there is an illustrated 

 prospectus by the senior editor, a poem by the stew- 

 ard, and a song which is addressed to the General. 

 This last the men are now singing, and they seem to 

 take special delight in the chorus, which runs thus: — 



" Hang up the harness and the whip, 

 Put up the sledge on the ship ; 

 There 's no more work for poor Gen-e-ral, 

 For he 's going for his wind for to slip." 



I am sorry to say that the prophecy therein con- 

 tained is likely to prove true, for the General is very 

 sick. Poor fellow ! he hears every word of this un- 

 pitying merriment over his misfortunes, and, could he 

 speak, I have no doubt that he would sigh with Gray's 



cat, — 



« Alas ! — 

 A favorite has no friends ! " 



However, there is a verse coming, to which he is lis- 

 tening attentively, and the very tears mount to his 

 eyes with this unexpected mark of sympathy. For 

 his sake I give it a place here : — 



" Sad times there will be when the General slips his wind, 

 And is gathered to his fathers down below ; 

 And is gone far away with his broken leg and all, 

 And is buried underneath the cold snow." 



November 12th. 



The temperature has gone down within 4° of zero, 



but there is still much slush and dampness. The snow 



lying next the ice is filled with water, a circumstance 



which it is difficult to explain, since the temperature 



