Of butterflies and honey-bees,

Who whisper in my ears?

What says the sunbeam unto them?

What tales have brooklets told?

Is there within their diadem

A single rival to the gem

The dewy daisies hold?

What sympathy have they with birds

Whose songs are songs of mine?

Do they e’er hear, as though in words

’Twas lisped, the message of the herds

Of grazing, lowing kine?

Ah no! Give me no lofty throne,

But just what Nature yields.

Let me but wander on, alone

If need be, so that all my own

Are woods and dales and fields.

THE HEROIC GUNNER

When the order was given to withdraw from battle for breakfast, one of the gun-captains, a privileged character, begged Commodore Dewey to let them keep on fighting until “we’ve wiped ’em out.”—War Anecdote in Daily Paper.

At the battle of Manila,

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