The ever-honoured name On the bright bead-roll of Fame, That our fathers held through all the changing Past, In it we claim our share, And by Saint George we swear, We can keep that name untarnished to the last; Then, when the hour arrives, We will give our very lives For the dearest land of all the lands on earth, And, foremost in the fray, Show Britain's foes the way Australia's sons can prove their British birth. Yes, there's not, &c. Sons of the South, unite In federated might, The Champions of your Country and your Queen; From New Zealand's glacier throne To the burning Torrid Zone, We'll prove that welded steel is tough and keen. The wide world shall be shown That we mean to hold our own In the home of our adoption, free and fair; And if the Lion needs, He shall see, by doughty deeds, How his Austral cubs can guard their father's lair. For there's not, &c. GARNET WALCH. _THE LITTLE DUCHESS._ BY ETHEL TURNER. "The tale is as old as the Eden tree, And new as the new-cut tooth." He was the clerk of the cash tramway, and when the rolling balls gave him a moment's leisure, used to look down from his high perch at the big shop beneath his feet, and, in his slow, quiet style, study the ways of the numberless assistants whose life-books thus opened to him so many of their pages. Lately there had come to the place a slight, grey-eyed girl, who wore her black dress with such grace, and held her small head with such dignity, that he whimsically had named her to himself "The Little Duchess." He liked to look down and catch a glint of her hair's sunshine when his brain was dulled with calculating change, and his fingers ached with shutting cash-balls and dispatching them on their journeys. And he used to wonder greatly how any customer could hesitate to buy silks and satins when their lustre and sheen were displayed by her slim little fingers and the quality descanted on with so persuasive a smile. There were handsomer girls in the shop, girls with finer figures and better features; but, to the boy in his mid-air cage, there was none with the nameless dainty charms that made the little Duchess so lovable.