* * * * *

Their bones are strewed to every tide from Torres Strait to Tyne--
God's truth, they've paid their blooming dues to the tin-fish and
the mine,
By storm or calm, by night or day, from Longships light to Line.

With a bomb or a mine or a bursting shell,
And she'll follow the seas no more,
She's fetched and carried and served you well,
The same as she's done before--
They've fetched and carried and gone their way,
As good ships should and as brave men may ...
And we'll build 'em still, and we'll breed 'em again,
The same good ships and the same good men,
The same--the same--the same as we've done before!

C.F.S.

* * * * *

A FIRST-CLASS MISDEMEANANT.

Cozens has a conscience--a conformist conscience--and is a first-class
season-ticket holder.

The other morning we were travelling up to town together as usual.
He was evidently bursting with the anticipatory pride of telling me
something very much to his credit. Presently, at a gap in my reading,