THE CAST-AWAY. 



'Alone, alone ; all, all alone ! 

 Alone on a wide, wide sea ! " 



— Ancient Mariner. 



TRISTAN DE ACUNHA — ALMOST A WRECK. 



" As beautiful Nancy was walkin' one dy, 



She met a young sylor, all hon the 'igh-wy, 

 'E stept up beside 'er, and to 'er did sy, 

 O ware hare ye goin\ tell me pretty myde ? " 



" Bully good ! " shouted a dozen gruff voices, 

 " You sing like a gen'leman o' forshun ! Take 

 'nother turn around the capstan an' give us nex' 

 versh ! " 



" Close-reef, first," replied the Cockney singer. 

 " Ware's the bloody bottle ? 'Ere, Weatherface, 

 — the bottle, you lubber ! " 



The British tar threw back his burly head and 

 took an observation through his tumbler. He 

 glanced round expectantly upon the crowd of 

 whalemen, awaiting a more distinct encore. 



" Nex' versh ! " roared Weatherface, making 

 the low coral walls re-echo, " Nex' versh ! " 

 Then they all shouted together, '• Go on, Jack ! 

 Go on ! " 



