"And what is the ship you're sailin' in?" "Oh, she's a bit of a terror-- She ain't no bloomin' levvyathan, an' that's no fatal error! She scoops the seas like a gravy-spoon when the gales are up an' blowin', But Fritz 'e loves 'er above a bit when 'er fightin' fangs are showin'. The liners go their stately way an' the cruisers take their ease, But where would they be if it wasn't for us, with the water up to our knees? We're wadin' when their soles are wet, we're swimmin' when they wade, For I tell you small craft gets it a treat in the North Atlantic trade!" "And what is the port you're plying to?" "When the last long trick is done There'll some come back to the old 'ome port--'ere's 'opin' I'll be one; But some 'ave made a new landfall, an' sighted another shore, An' it ain't no use to watch for them, for they won't come 'ome no more. There ain't no 'arbour dues to pay when once they're over the bar, Moored bow an' stern in a quiet berth where the lost three-deckers are, An' there's NELSON 'oldin' 'is one 'and out an' welcomin' them that's made The roads o' Glory an' the port of Death in the North Atlantic trade!" C. F. S. * * * * * SELF-DENIAL. "And what," I said, "did you do during the Great War, Francesca?" "In the first place I fine you a sum not exceeding one hundred pounds for asking me such a question. In the second place I retort upon you by telling you that one of the things you're going to do during the Great War is to give up marmalade." "What! Give up the thing which lends to breakfast its one and only distinction? Never." "That," she said, "sounds very brave; but what are you going to do if there isn't any marmalade to be obtained for love or money?" "Mine," I said, "has always been the sort you get for money. I have not hitherto met the amatory variety; but if it's really marmalade I'm prepared to have a go at it." "And that," she said, "is very kind of you, but it's quite useless. For the moment there's no marmalade of any kind to be had." "None of the dark-brown variety?" "No." "Or the sort that looks like golden jelly?" "Not a scrap." "Or the old-fashioned but admirable kind? The excellent substitute for butter at breakfast?" "That must go like the rest. It has been a substitute for the last time." "Impossible," I said. "Everything is now a substitute for something else. Marmalade started being a substitute long ago, and it isn't fair to stop it and let the other things go on." "Well," she said, "what are you going to do about it? If you can't get Seville oranges how are you going to get Seville orange marmalade?" "Oh, that's it, is it?" "Yes, that's it, more or less. And now let's have your remedy."