BY M. E. SANGSTER.
His cap is old, but his hair is gold,
And his face is clear as the sky;
And whoever he meets, on lanes or streets,
He looks him straight in the eye,
With a fearless pride that has naught to hide,
Though he bows like a little knight,
Quite debonair, to a lady fair,
With a smile that is swift as light.
Does his mother call? Not kite, or ball,
Or the prettiest game, can stay
His eager feet as he hastes to greet
Whatever she means to say.
And the teachers depend on the little friend
At school in his place at nine,
With his lessons learned and his good marks earned,
All ready to toe the line.
I wonder if you have seen him too,
This boy, who is not too big
For a morning kiss from mother and Sis,
Who isn't a bit of a prig,
But gentle and strong, and the whole day long
As merry as boy can be.
A gentleman, dears, in the coming years,
And at present the boy for me.
[HOW JAMIE SAILED IN THE "SCUD."]
BY MATTHEW WHITE, JUN.
The Scud was a cat-rigged, clipper-built pleasure-yacht, belonging to Mr. Trenwick, and now for sale. It had never been used very much, and now that Jamie was almost old enough to want to sail himself, and still sufficiently young to run a good chance of being drowned in the attempt, Mrs. Trenwick declared that she would sleep much easier at night if "that boat" were owned by somebody else.
Jamie was nearly eleven, and both he and his twin sister Marian knew how to row, and, in their pretty little boat would paddle about for hours in shallow water, so that it was considered perfectly safe to allow Jamie to pump out the Scud after a rain.
But as time went on and no purchaser appeared, the yacht seemed to feel the neglect with which it was being treated, and by way of attracting more attention to itself, suddenly began to leak.
"Well, pump her out every day if necessary, my son," said Mr. Trenwick, when informed of the fact, for he was very busy at his office in the city just then, and was never at home during the day except on Sundays.
The Scud was moored on the edge of the channel, only a few yards from the outer end of the Trenwicks' dock, and formerly a pretty blue and white buoy had floated above the spot where the anchor lay; but this had been lost by some means, and now the cable was fastened directly to the bow of the boat.