27 JANUARY 1900, Page 31



QUENCHED is the lamp, ev'n in its flickering dear ; We miss the light: we would not have him here ; No carping littlenesses lift their head Where he is, 'mid the great unjealons dead.

He thirsted—as a thirsty land for rain— - For Beastly, and for Good as men for gain ; Now may he drink of the immortal tide, Ever athirst, and ever satisfied. F. W. BOIIRDILLON.