"I don't understand," I said. "Was it your face that frightened them in the blue cap?" "Not so much my face," he answered gently, "as my feet." "What was the matter with them?" "There are big nails," he said softly, "in my brown golf shoes." * * * * * Illustration: _Trooper._ "COME ON BEHIND HERE AND TRAVEL WITH US, JIM!" _Jim_ (_from horse-box_). "NOT MUCH. NONE OF YOUR THIRD-CLASS FOR ME." * * * * * FROM ANOTHER POINT OF VIEW. It is a strange thing that, much as women have entered the writing lists with men, there is one branch of literature which they rarely attempt. Take away Mrs. BROWNING and CHRISTINA ROSSETTI and you will scarcely find a love poem by a woman, or, at any rate, a love poem which takes the woman's point of view. Probably many of the most cherished sentimental songs which wake the echoes of the drawing-room and conservatory are the work of women; but they write as men. It is always the masculine aspect which is set before the public; the beloved is always feminine. And yet marriage statistics show that precisely as many men have married as women. But during the preliminary period of exalted emotion any love poetry that was written was written by the men. Surely, as the advancement of woman proceeds, and she adds territory upon territory to her kingdom, she will redress the balance and write love poetry too. A very few changes in certain of the classic lyrics indicate how near the two varieties of love poems can be: male and female. Thus, why should not "he" as well as "she" have dwelt among untrodden ways? Why should not "he" have walked in beauty like the night? POE wrote magically about ANNABEL LEE; why should not one of his female relatives, for example, have written in a similar strain? Something like this:-- It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a gentleman lived whom you may know By the name of Hannibal Lee; And this gentleman lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. Women must see to it that men do not have it all their own way for ever. LANDOR was moved to a perfect lyric by love of ROSE AYLMER. Is the following any less perfect? Ah! what avails the sceptred race? Ah! what the form divine? What every virtue, every grace? George Aylmer, all were thine. George Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and sighs I consecrate to thee. George is of course not the only name, nor is Aylmer. The adaptrix, however, must be careful that the Christian name is a monosyllable and the other a dissyllable. Again, in the following feminine version of a Shakspearean song the name is subject to alteration:-- Who is Bertie? What is he That all the girls commend him? Handsome, brave and wise is he; The heavens such grace did lend him That he might admired be.