41 o The Wreck. 



gate behind me, Haynes Bayly's beautiful lines came into my 

 mind — 



" He should have died in his own loved land. 

 With friends and kindred near him. 

 Not have withered thus, on a foreign strand. 



With no thought save of Heaven to cheer him. 

 But what recks it now ? Is his sleep less sound. 

 In the port where the wild wave swept him. 

 Than if home's green turf his grave had bound. 

 Or the friends he loved had wept him f* 



