inquire for Adam Goos,
Or to ask where Pastor Meder has removed--so
You must treat as out of date the story I relate,
Of the Church in Philadelphia he loved so.

He is gone, gone, gone with Martin Luther,
(Never say I didn't give you warning).
In Seventeen Ninety-five he was (rest his soul!) alive.
But he's not in Philadelphia this morning.

If you're off to Philadelphia this morning,
And wish to prove the truth of what I say,
I pledge my word you'll find the pleasant land behind
Unaltered since Red Jacket rode that way.
Still the pine-woods scent the noon; still the catbird sings his tune;
Still autumn sets the maple-forest blazing.
Still the grape-vine through the dusk flings her soul-compelling musk;
Still the fire-flies in the corn make night amazing.

They are there, there, there with Earth immortal
(Citizens, I give you friendly warning).
The things that truly last when men and times have passed
They are all in Pennsylvania this morning!

Brother Square-Toes

It was almost the end of their visit to the seaside. They had turned
themselves out of doors while their trunks were being packed, and
strolled over the Downs towards the dull evening sea. The tide was dead
low under the chalk cliffs, and the little wrinkled waves grieved along
the sands up the coast to Newhaven and down the coast to long, grey
Brighton, whose smoke trailed out across the Channel.

They walked to The Gap where the cliff is only a few feet high. A
windlass for hoisting shingle from the beach below stands at the edge of
it. The Coastguard cottages are a little farther on, and an old ship's
figure-head of a Turk in a turban stared at them over the wall.

'This time to-morrow we shall be at home, thank goodness,' said Una. 'I
hate the sea!'

'I believe it's all right in the middle,' said Dan. 'The edges are the
sorrowful parts.'

Cordery, the coastguard, came out of the cottage, levelled his telescope
at some fishing-boats, shut it with a click and walked away. He grew
smaller and smaller along the edge of the cliff, where neat piles of
white chalk every few yards show the path even on the darkest night.

'Where's Cordery going?' said Una.

'Half-way to Newhaven,' said Dan. 'Then he'll meet the Newhaven
coastguard and turn back. He says if coastguards were done away with,
smuggling would