azma; death's Utopia!"

"But to think he should have died with those words of the poet on his
lips?"

"A coincidence!" answered Straws. "No more notable than the death of
Edmund Kean, who, when he reached the passage 'Farewell, Othello's
occupation's gone!' fell back unconscious; or that of John Palmer,
who, after reciting 'There is another and a better world,' passed away
without a pang."

A silence fell between the two poets; around them shadows appeared and
vanished. Phazma finished his syrup and arose.

"Don't go," said Straws. "My own thoughts are poor company. Recite
some of your madrigals, that's a good fellow! What a wretched night!
These rain-drops are like the pattering feet of the invisible host.
Some simple song, Phazma!"

"As many as you please!" cried his flattered brother-bard. "What shall
it be?"

"One of your Rhymes for Children. Your 'Boy's Kingdom,' beginning:

"When I was young, I dreamed of knights
And dames with silken trains."

"Thou shalt have it, _mon ami_!"

And Phazma gaily caught up the refrain, while Straws beat time to the
tinkling measures.

* * * * *

The last entry in the date-book, or diary, of Barnes seems curiously
significant as indicating a knowledge that his end was near. For the
first time in the volume he rambles on in a reminiscent mood about his
boyhood days:

"The first bit of good fortune I ever enjoyed was when as a lad in
sweeping a crossing in the neighborhood of the Strand I found a
bright, shining sovereign. How tightly I grasped it in my little fist
that night when I slept in a doorway! I dared not trust it in my
pocket. The next night I walked to the ticket-seller at Drury Lane,
and demanded a seat down stairs. 'Gallery seats sold around the
corner,' said this imposing gentleman with a prodigious frown, and,
abashed, I slunk away. My dream of being near the grand people
vanished and I climbed once more to my place directly under the roof.

"My next bit of good fortune happened in this wise. Sheridan, the
playwright-orator, attracted my attention on Piccadilly one day, and,
for the delight of gazing upon him, I followed. When he stopped, I
stopped; when he advanced, I did likewise. I felt that I was treading
in the footsteps of a king. Suddenly he paused, wheeled about and
confronted me, a raw-boned, ragged, awkward lad of fourteen. 'What one
of my creditors has set you following m