A CODE OF MORALS Lest you should think this story true, Evolved it lately. 'T is a most Now Jones had left his new-wed bride to keep his house in order, And hied away to the Hurrum Hills above the Afghan border, To sit on a rock with a heliograph; but ere he left he taught His wife the wording of the Code that sets the miles at naught. And love had made him very sage, as Nature made her fair; So Cupid and Apollo linked, per heliograph, the pair. At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he flashed her counsel wise At e'en the dying sunset bore her husband's homilies. He warned her 'gainst seductive youths in scarlet clad and gold, As much as 'gainst the blandishments paternal of the old; But kept his gravest warnings for (hereby the ditty hangs) That snowy-haired Lothario, Lieutenant-General Bangs. 'T was General Bangs, with Aide and Staff, that tittupped on the way, When they beheld a heliograph tempestuously at play; They thought of Border risings, and of stations sacked and burnt So stopped to take the message down-and this is what they learnt : "Dash dot dot, dot, dot dash, dot dash dot" twice. The General swore. "Was ever General Officer addressed as dear' be Spirit of great Lord Wolseley, who is on that mountain top?" The artless Aide-de-camp was mute; the gilded Staff were still, As, dumb with pent-up mirth, they booked that message from the hill; For, clear as summer's lightning flare, the husband's warning ran : "Don't dance or ride with General Bangs immoral man." Dash dot, etc.: "Dear" in the Morse alphabet. a most A Code of Morals (At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he flashed her counsel wise But, howsoever Love be blind, the world at large hath eyes.) With damnatory dot and dash he heliographed his wife Some interesting details of the General's private life. The artless Aide-de-camp was mute; the shining Staff were still, And red and ever redder grew the General's shaven gill. And this is what he said at last (his feelings matter not): "I think we've tapped a private line. Hi! Threes about there! Trot!" All honor unto Bangs, for ne'er did Jones thereafter know By word or act official who read off that helio.; But the tale is on the Frontier, and from Michni to Mooltan They knew the worthy General as "that most immoral man." THE LAST DEPARTMENT Twelve hundred million men are spread "None whole or clean," we cry, "or free from stain Of favor." Wait a while, till we attain The Last Department, where nor fraud nor fools, Nor grade nor greed, shall trouble us again. Fear, Favor, or Affection-what are these When leave, long overdue, none can deny ; Becomes our furlough, and the marigold Transferred to the Eternal Settlement Pukka: Ripe, overripe. The Last Department And One, long since a pillar of the Court, crops Is subject-matter of his own Report. (These be the glorious ends whereto we pass A breath of wind, a Border bullet's flight, For you or Me. Do those who live decline Trust me, To-day's Most Indispensables, Five hundred men can take your place or mine. Mallie: Native gardener. Sheristadar: Native clerk of court |