So here’s to Sir Henry, the terror of tricksters,
    Of law he’s a master, and likewise a limb;
  His mind never once, when its purpose is fixed, errs: 
    For cuteness there’s none holds a candle to him. 
  Let them try to deceive him, why, bless you, he’s been there,
    And can track his way straight through a tangle of lies;
  And though some might grow gray at the things he has seen there,
    He never, no, never, gives way to surprise.

By the courtesy of Sir Francis Burnand, who most kindly obtained permission from Messrs. Bradbury and Agnew, I insert the following poem, which appeared in a February number of Punch in the year 1887:—­

THE WOMAN AND THE LAW.

(A true story, told before Mr. Justice Hawkins at the recent Liverpool
Assizes—­vide Daily Telegraph, February 8.)

  In the criminal dock stood a woman alone,
    To be judged for her crime, her one fault to repair,
  And the man who gave evidence sat like a stone,
    With a look of contempt for the woman’s despair! 
  For the man was a husband, who’d ruined a life,
    And broken a heart he had found without flaw;
  He demanded the punishment due to the wife,
    Who was only a Woman, whilst his was the Law!

  A terrible silence then reigned in the Court,
    And the eyes of humanity turned to the dock;
  Her head was bent down, and her sobbing came short,
    And the jailer stood ready, with hand on the lock
  Of the gate of despair, that would open no more
    When this wreckage of beauty was hurried away! 
  “Let me speak,” moaned the woman—­“my lord, I implore!”
    “Yes, speak,” said the Judge.  “I will hear what you say!”

  “I was only a girl when he stole me away
    From the home and the mother who loved me too well;
  But the shame and the pain I have borne since that day
    Not a pitying soul who now listens can tell! 
  There was never a promise he made but he broke;
    The bruises he gave I have covered with shame;
  Not a tear, not a prayer, but he scorned as a joke! 
    He cursed at my children, and sneered at my fame!

  “The money I’d slaved for and hoarded he’d rob;
    I have borne his reproaches when maddened with drink. 
  For a man there is pleasure, for woman a sob;
    It is he who may slander, but she who must think! 
  But at last came the day when the Law gave release,
    Just a moment of respite from merciless fate,
  For they took him to prison, and purchased me peace,
    Till I welcomed him home like a wife—­at the gate!

  “Was it wrong in repentance of Man to believe? 
    It is hard to forget, it is right to forgive! 
  But he struck me again, and he left me to grieve
    For the love I had lost, for the life I must live! 
  So I silently stole from the depths of despair,
    And slunk from dark destiny’s chastening rod,
  And I crept to the light, and the life, and the air,
    From the town of the man to the country of God!