Among the prose works of the author we mention “Out of His Head, a Romance” (1862), “The Story of a Bad Boy” (1869),――which became at once a favorite by its naturalness and purity of spirit,――“♦Marjorie Daw and Other People” (1873), “Prudence Palfrey” (1874), “The Queen of Sheba” (1877), “The Stillwater Tragedy” (1880), “From Ponkapog to Pesth” (1883), “The Sisters Tragedy” (1890), “An Old Town by the Sea;” and “Two Bites at a Cherry and other Tales” (1893), “Unguarded Gates” (1895). “Complete Works,” in eight volumes, were published in 1897. Mr. Aldrich is said to be a man of the world as well as a man of letters and his personal popularity equals his literary reputation. We cannot better illustrate his companionable nature and close this sketch than by presenting the following pen picture of an incident, clipped from a recent magazine: ♦ ‘Majorie’ replaced with ‘Marjorie’ During a visit to England, upon one occasion, Mr. Aldrich was the guest of William Black, with a number of other well known people. An English journalist of some distinction, who had no time to keep in touch with the personality of poets, met Mr. Aldrich, and they became excellent friends. They went on long shooting expeditions together, and found each other more than good companions. The last night of their stay came, and after dinner Mr. Black made a little speech, in which he spoke of Mr. Aldrich’s poetry in a graceful fashion. The London journalist gave a gasp, and looked at Mr. Aldrich, who rose to make a response, as if he had never seen him before. As the poet sat down he leaned over him, and said:―― “Say, Aldrich, are you the man who writes books?” “Yes,” Mr. Aldrich said. “I am glad you don’t know, for I am sure you liked me for myself.” Illustration: THOMAS B. ALDRICH’S STUDY. * * * * * ALEC YEATON’S SON.¹ GLOUCESTER, AUGUST, 1720. THE wind it wailed, the wind it moaned, And the white caps flecked the sea; “An’ I would to God,” the skipper groaned, “I had not my boy with me!” Snug in the stern-sheets, little John Laughed as the scud swept by; But the skipper’s sunburnt cheek grew wan As he watched the wicked sky. “Would he were at his mother’s side!” And the skipper’s eyes were dim. “Good Lord in heaven, if ill betide, What would become of him! “For me――my muscles are as steel, For me let hap what may: I might make shift upon the keel Until the break o’ day. “But he, he is so weak and small, So young, scarce learned to stand―― O pitying Father of us all, I trust him in thy hand! “For Thou, who markest from on high A sparrow’s fall――each one!―― Surely, O Lord, thou’lt have an eye On Alec Yeaton’s son!”