318 



THE AMERICAN BEE-KEEPER. 



November 



SAN DOWN BAY. 



Oh, the summer sunshine 



Flooding Sandown bay, 

 Making gladness gladder 



While the cLiklren playl 

 Building mimie mountains, 



Digging mimic lakes, 

 Leaving grjut thi.igs dearer 



For tiie small things' sakest 



Loud waves, grr.y and curling, 



Foam in freshsning spray, 

 God's mysterious music 



I/Iir.gling v.-ith the play. 

 All thi broad sea's glory 



Dimly stretched away. 

 Like tiiat unknown story 



Children know some day. 



Eippling baby chatter ! 



Sunny baby smiles ! 

 What can greatly matter 



While you keep your wiles? 

 Dc.?s Cod hear this music 



Mingling with the sea's? 

 Does Lo love the laughter 



Sounding on the breeze? 



— F. M. Ovvpn in ft/-inr1 Wow/lo 



SEA 



It had gone two bells in the mid 

 die watch, and I conld hardly keej; 

 my eyes open. The morning wa& 

 exceedingly warm, but there was a 

 light breeze from the westward — 

 just enough to keep the canvas full. 

 I had thought of everything I could 

 remember to fight off the drowsi- 

 ness that was stealing over me. I 

 recalled the last song I had heard 

 ashore and the girl who sang it. I 

 thought of the letters I had to write 

 before wo made Hakodate, for we 

 were cruising in the Japan sea on 

 this night of June, 18S6. There was 

 no excuse to trim sail to keep one- 

 self awake. 



The breeze, though light, was 

 steady, and at the foot of the main 

 •course, to which I had extended my 

 walk and now stood under for the 

 delightful draft it cast, was as mo- 

 tionless as if the sail rope had been 

 of metal. I wandered down to the 

 gunroom for a goblet of rum and 

 lime juice to give relish to my next 

 pipe. 



'.'Hello, old man! Why have you 



turned out? Three bells liave not 

 struck yet." 



The face that looked up to mine 

 from the moss table was that of a 

 beauty — so refined, not masculine 

 comeliness, but positive beauty — 

 that no debutante at a London draw- 

 ing room, no matter how lovely, 

 could demur to an exchange. There 

 was nothing effeminate about the 

 figure. The shoulders were square 

 and muscular, and the neck showed 

 unmistakable signs of strength. Ar- 

 thur Bescoby, though we called him 

 Miss Bescobj'' in the mess, was no 

 girl boy, but a young man from the 

 pleasant county of Kent, who was a 

 good cricket and football player, 

 pulled a strong oar and gave amjDle 

 promise of being a valuable addition 

 to her majesty's navy. 



"I can't sleep, Paddy [Paddy was 

 my pet name]. I don't know what 

 it is that worries me so, but I feel 

 wretched." 



"You're in love, Bessy. This visit 

 you made to Scotland has settled 

 you." 



Bescoby 's face flushed. "No, I 

 don't think I'm very hard hit, Pad- 

 dy," he rejoined, "only something 

 to keep my mind busy between 

 mails. By the way, what did you 

 make her out to be yesterday?" 



I gave hiiai the ship's position at 

 noo]i and chaffed him at having for- 

 gotten it. 



"Suppose you take a turn on the 

 deck with me, Bess," I said, "and 

 you can get a jollj'' good hosing at 

 eight bells, which will do you more 

 good than scribbling in this mess- 

 room. Come along, and I'll tell you 

 about the girl that fciaved my life at 

 Limerick. '" 



Before I concluded that remarka- 

 ble tale Bescoby 's blues had disa.p- 

 peared, and when the next watch 

 was mustered he was all right again. 

 He was a favorite of mine, and, al- 

 though he spoke to me freely on 

 many things there was still an air 

 of reserve about him that made all 



