How are the lines to be scanned?" _Ans._--On internal evidence, we question whether the lines are MILTON's. In the absence of our Poet, who is out for a holiday, we can only reply, that if shortsighted, you can scan them by the aid of a powerful glass--of your favourite compound. * * * * * [Illustration: "THE SWEET LITTLE CHERUB THAT SITS UP ALOFT." (_Modern Version, as it must be_.)] ["The Associated Chamber of Commerce ask that the Coastguard stations, shore-lighthouses, rock lighthouses, and light-ships of the United Kingdom, should, as far as possible, be connected by telegraph or telephone with the general telegraph system of the country, 'as a means for the protection of life and property, as well as for national defence.'... France and America, Holland and Denmark, provide their seamen with this great safeguard in the hour of their utmost need. IS England content to let her sailors die by hundreds for want of a little money, or for want of a little care?"--_Times_.] _Prospero_. Why, that's my spirit! But was not this nigh shore? _Ariel_. Close by, my master. _Prospero_. But are they, Ariel, safe? _Ariel_. Not a hair perish'd. _Tempest_, Act I., Scene 2. _CONTENT_? There's many an English heart will hear with fierce amaze That England lags so far behind in these electric days-- England, whose seamen are her shield, who vaunts in speech and song, The love she bears her mariners! Wake, CAMPBELL, swift and strong Of swell and sweep as the salt waves you sang as none could sing! Rouse DIBDIN, of the homelier flight, but steady waft of wing! Poetic shades, _this_ question, sure, should pierce the ear of death, And make ye vocal once again with quick, indignant breath. _Content_? Whilst round our rocky coasts the souls who guard them sink, Death clutching from the clamorous brine, hope beaconing from the brink, With lifted hands toward the lights that beam but to betray, Because dull Britons fail to think, or hesitate to pay? No! With that question a fierce thrill through countless listeners went, And, hoarse with indignation, rings the answer, "_Not_ Content!"