LORRAINE. CHARLES KINGSLEY. "ARE you ready for your steeple-chase, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorrèe? Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree. You're booked to ride your capping race to-day at Coul terlee, You're booked to ride Vindictive, for all the world to see, To keep him straight, and keep him first, and win the run for me." Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree. She clasped her new-born baby, poor Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorrèe, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree. "I cannot ride Vindictive, as any man might see, And I will not ride Vindictive, with this baby on my knee, He's killed a boy, he's killed a man, and why should he kill me?" "Unless you ride Vindictive, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorrèe, Unless you ride Vindictive, to-day at Coulterlee, And land him safe across the brook, and win the blank for me, It's you may keep your baby, for you'll get no keep from me." "That husbands could be cruel," said Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorrèe, "That husbands could be cruel, I have known for sea sons three; But oh! to ride Vindictive, while a baby cries for me, And be killed across a fence at last for all the world to see!" She mastered young Vindictive, -oh! the gallant lass was she! And kept him straight, and won the race, as near as near could be; But he killed her at the brook against a pollard willow tree, Oh, he killed her at the brook, the brute, for all the world to see, And no one but the baby cried for poor Lorraine, Lorrèe. HEROES. ANONYMOUS. THE wind was soft and heavy, Hardly shaking a flower; The night was grave and splendid, The wild notes waved and linger'd, Sometimes like defiance, And sometimes like despair; When down the moonlit mountain, And beside the river-calms, The line of a dismal procession Unwound between the palms. A train of driven captives, Weary, weak, amazed, Eighty hopeless faces, Never once upraised; Bleeding from the journey, Men, and women, and children, Lashed, and crying, and crouching, They pass'd, suspecting not There were three or four English Whose hearts grew very hot, Men who had come from a distance, Whose lives were in their hands, To tell the love of Jesus Among the heathen lands; Studious men and gentle, But not in the least afraid : With fire enough amongst them To furnish a crusade. And when they saw the slave-troop Come hurrying down the hill, Each man look'd at the other, They did not care for treaties, And death they did not fear; One great wrong would have roused them, They were not doing man's work, So they went and stopp'd the savages "We are three or four English, You should have seen the black men, They break, they fly like water Till in a wonderful moment The gasp of freedom came, That sets the world aflame. A blast of weeping and shouting And God was able to undraw A glorious gift is Prudence; Till they can see the ends; FIGHTING. THOMAS HUGHES: ARRANGED. Boys will quarrel, and when they quarrel will sometimes fight. Learn to box, then, as you learn to play cricket and football. Not one of you will be the worse but very much the better for learning to box well. Should you never have to use it in earnest, there's no exercise in the world so good for the temper and for the muscles of the back and legs. As to fighting, keep out of it if you can, by all means. When the time comes, if it ever should, that you have to say "Yes" or "No" to a challenge to fight, say |