longer when it spoke to him. “Old Friend,” it said, “you remember our compact when we left England. It was to be _share and share alike,_ my boy—_share and share alike._ I have had my share. Come!” Then on the still night air came the belated cry for help, but it was after the foot had slipped and the hand had been wrenched from the iron stanchion. An International Row “A simple child That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of——” kicking up a row (_Note_.—Only the last four words of the above poem are claimed as original.) “Then America declared war on England.”—_History of_ 1812 Lady, not feeling particularly well, reclining in a steamer chair, covered up with rags. Little girl beside her, who wants to know. Gentleman in an adjoining steamer chair. The little girl begins to speak. “And do you have to pay to go in, mamma?” “Yes, dear.” “How much do you have to pay? As much as at a theatre?” “Oh, you need not pay anything particular—no set sum, you know. You pay just what you can afford.” “Then it’s like a collection at church, mamma?” “Yes, dear.” “And does the captain get the money, mamma?” “No, dear; the money goes to the poor orphans, I think.” “Where are the orphans, mamma?” “I don’t know, dear, I think they are in Liverpool.” “Whose orphans are they, mamma?” “They are the orphans of sailors, dear.” “What kind of sailors, mamma?” “British sailors, darling.” “Aren’t there any sailors in America, mamma?” “Oh yes, dear, lots of them.” “And do they have any orphans?” “Yes, dear, I suppose there are orphans there too.” “And don’t they get any of the money, mamma?” “I am sure I do not know, dear. By the way, Mr. Daveling, how is that? Do they give any of the money to American orphans?” “I believe not, madam. Subscriptions at concerts given on board British steamers are of course donated entirely to the Seamen’s Hospital or Orphanage of Liverpool.” “Well, that doesn’t seem to be quite fair, does it? A great deal of the money is subscribed by Americans.” “Yes, madam, that is perfectly true.” “I should think that ten Americans cross on these lines for every one Englishman.” “I am sure I do not know, madam, what the proportion is. The Americans are great travellers, so are the English too, for that matter.” “Yes; but I saw in one of the papers that this year alone over a hundred thousand persons had taken their passage from New York to England. It seems to me, that as all of them contribute to the receipts of the concerts, some sort of a division should be made.” “Oh, I have no doubt if the case were presented to the captain, he would be quite willing to have part of the proceeds at least go to some American seamen’s charity.” “I think that would be only fair.” Two young ladies, arm in arm, approach, and ask Mrs. Pengo how she is feeling to-day.