A LANDING PARTY.
The next morning the flag-ship hoists the signal for a landing-party. Boats are lowered away, and Jack Tar prepares to go ashore as a seaman-infantryman. With his brown canvas leggings, his brown belt and knapsack, his formidable rifle and bayonet, the sailor makes a serviceable coast soldier. At a signal from the flag-ship the boats are hauled to the companion-ladders, and the men pour into them. Rifles are laid down, and oars are taken up, for Jacky rows himself ashore. Another signal, and the boats, shooting out from the sides of the ships, fall into their allotted places. Again a signal, and they start for the shore, the oars in the rowlocks beating time to a sort of sea-march. As the boats strike the beach the bugle sounds the "assembly," and in a few minutes the battalion of marines and seamen-infantry is formed. The band from the flag-ship strikes up "Nancy Lee," and with that invigorating swing that belongs to Jack Tar alone the battalion marches inland, where it goes through all the evolutions of the street riot and battle drills, and finishes with a dress parade to the delight of all the boys in that part of the land.
And thus from day to day the work of the squadron runs on, the Admiral constantly propounding new topics for its study; for no one knows better than a naval officer the necessity of being ready for active service at a moment's notice. That readiness can be attained only by obeying the good old maxim: "In time of peace prepare for war."
BUTTERFLY BOWS.
BY MILDRED HOWELLS.
Once a little girl existed
Who was fond of pomps and shows,
And upon her braids insisted
Tying two great scarlet bows.
Though her father couldn't bear them,
And her gentle mother said
That she wished her child should wear them
Tied with modest bows instead.
But their wishes she made light of,
And her gaudy ribbons grew
Bigger every day, in spite of
All her friends could say or do.
Till this child, all counsel spurning,
Found with horror and surprise
That her bows were slowly turning
Into monstrous butterflies.
First they gently swayed and fluttered,
Then with spreading wings they flew,
Ere one sad farewell was uttered,
Straight into the welkin blue.
So she vanished; still her mother
Hopes those wandering bows will bring
Back her daughter, when the other
Butterflies return with Spring.