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[We are indebted to Miss FitzGibbon for a copy of the Cobourg Star of February 7th, 1838, in which appears, under the above title, an epitome, from one point of view, of Rebellion events. Its humours make it a fitting introduction for the papers which follow.]
“Now puny discord first broke out, And fools rebelled; but what about They could not tell.”
There lived in famed Toronto town
A man not very big,
A belted knight was he likewise—
Knight of the old bay wig.
Mackenzie was this hero called,
From Scotia’s land he came,
To sow and reap—if e’er he could—
The seeds of future fame.
Well taught was he to broil and scold,
To slander and to lie,
The good to libel—but the bad
Around him close to tie.
A precious clan this hero got
To join him in the cause
Of Freedom, which but truly meant
Upturning of our laws.
He travelled all the country round,
With grievances his cry;
Then off to father John, at home,
Right quickly did he hie.
And then he told so many lies
That John began to stare;
And eke he talked so very large
That John began to swear.
Then out Mackenzie pulled the roll
Of those who did complain;
And for redress of grievances
He bawled with might and main.
Now John a so-so clerk had got—
A Janus-looking elf,
Who cared for nothing else of earth
But sleeping and himself.
Glenelg was snoring in his chair
His custom every day—
Then up he got and rubbed his eyes
To brush the sleep away.
Said he, “Rebellion is our love,
In it we do delight;
So now you may go back again,
We’ll soon set things to right;
“For you and all the world must know,
By it our place we keep.”
But scarcely had he spoke these words
When he was fast asleep.
And when he’d slept ten months or so,
He called him for a pen;
But long before it ready was
He’d sunk to sleep again.
Now goodman Stephen in his ear
In whispering accents said—
“Both pens and paper now, my Lord,
Are on your table laid.”
So quick he took the gray goose-quill,
And wrote a neat despatch;
Says he, “I think that that, at least,
Their Tory wiles will match.
“Just as my name, it may be read
Whichever way you like,
Or Whig or Tory, as may best
The reader’s fancy strike.
“So And me now Sir Francis Head—
A learned knight is he—
Successor to the brave Sir John
I vow that man shall be.”
Sir Francis came, but long declined
The proffered post to take,
Until convinced by Lord Glenelg
’Twas for Reform’s sake.
“Now take this book,” his Lordship said,
“And in it you may see
The many wrongs that do oppress
A people blest and free.
“And take you also this despatch,
And read it over well;
But to the people you need not
Its whole contents to tell.”
Sir Francis bowed, and off he came
In hurry to be here;
And rabble shout and rabble praise
Fell thick upon his ear.
But full amazed was he to see
The good Sir John depart;
For blessings flowed from many a lip
And sighs from many a heart.
“Good lack!” quoth he, “but this is strange
Which I do now behold,
For that Sir John most hated was
In England we were told!”
And then he made a little speech,
And said he’d let them know,
What his instructions fully were
He meant to them to show.
It happened then our worthy knights
Were met in Parliament,
And unto them a copy neat
Of the despatch he sent.
And then they blustered and they fumed
And acted as if mad,
And said though things were bad before,
They now were twice as bad.
And then they asked that from their ranks
Six Councillors he’d choose—
Six men of wisdom, whose advice
In all behests he’d use.
To humour them he did his best,
And quickly tried the plan, sir:
But quite as quickly he found out
That it would never answer.
He said, “One law shall be my guide,
From which I’ll never swerve—
The Constitution I’ll uphold
With all my might and nerve.”
So shortly to the right-about
He sent them in a hurry,
Which caused among their loving friends
A most outrageous flurry.
The House was filled with witty chaps,
Who of a joke were fond;
They thought it would be mighty fine
To ask him for a “Bond.”
And then were speeches long and thick,
With nonsense and with rant,
And “Rights of Council” soon became Reformers’ fav’rite cant.
And then one Peter Perry rose,
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