If I was loud as I am proud
I'd sing him over the town!
Why should I speak low, sailor?
"That good ship went down."

How's my boy-my boy?
What care I for the ship, sailor,
I never was aboard her.

Be she afloat, or be she aground,
Sinking or swimming, I'll be bound
Her owners can afford her!

I say, how's my John?

"Every man on board went down, Every man aboard her."

How's my boy-my boy?

What care I for the men, sailor?

I'm not their mother

How's my boy-my boy?

Tell me of him and no other!

How's my boy-my boy?

Romance and Reality

SYDNEY Dobell.

The Child-Musician

He had played for his lordship's levee,
He had played for her ladyship's whim,

Till the poor little head was heavy,
And the poor little brain would swim.

Romance and

Reality

And the face grew peaked and eerie,
And the large eyes strange and bright;
And they said—too late-" He is weary!
He shall rest, for at least to-night!"

But at dawn, when the birds were waking,
As they watched in the silent room,
With the sound of a strained cord breaking,
A something snapped in the gloom.

"Twas the string of his violoncello,
And they heard him stir in his bed:-
"Make room for a tired little fellow,
"Kind God!" was the last he said.

AUSTIN DOBSON.

How They Brought the Good News from
Ghent to Aix

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he:
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all

three;

"Good speed!" cried the watch as the gate-bolts undrew,

66

Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping
through,

Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
And into the midnight we galloped abreast.

Not a word to each other; we kept the great Romance

расе

Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing

our place;

I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
Then shortened each stirrup and set the pique

right,

Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker the bit,

Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.

'Twas a moonset at starting; but while we drew

near

Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned

clear;

At Boom a great yellow star came out to see;
At Düffeld 'twas morning as plain as could

be;

And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half chime

So Joris broke silence with "Yet there is time!"

At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun,
And against him the cattle stood black every one,
To stare through the mist at us galloping past;
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
With resolute shoulders, each butting away
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray;

and Reality

Romance And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear

and

Reality

bent back

For my voice, and the other pricked out on his

track;

And one eye's black intelligence,—ever that
glance

O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance ;
And the thick heavy spume-flakes, which aye and

anon

His fierce lips shook upward in galloping on.

By Hasselt Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!

Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her;

We'll remember at Aix "-for one heard the quick wheeze

Of her chest, saw the stretched neck, and stagger-
ing knees,

And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.

So we were left galloping, Joris and I,

Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh;
'Neath our feet broke the brittle, bright stubble
like chaff;

Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,
And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in

sight!"

"How they'll greet us!"—and all in a moment Romance

his roan

Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
And there was my Roland to bear the whole

weight

Of the news which alone could save Aix from her

fate,

With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,

And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.

Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let
fall,

Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
Stood up in the stirrups, leaned, patted his ear,
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse with-
out peer-

Clapped my hands, laughed and sung, any noise,
bad or good,

Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.

And all I remember is friends flocking round,
As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the
ground;

And no voice but was praising this Roland of

mine,

As I poured down his throat our last measure of

and Reality

wine,