ess--its fame is seemingly a bore, for he is quoted as
saying:--"I am feeling very well and enjoying life as well as an old man
can, but this eternal 'Ben Bolt' business makes me so infernally weary
at times that existence becomes a burden. The other night, at a meeting
of a medical association at my home in Newark, some one proposed that
all hands join in singing 'Ben Bolt,' whereupon I made a rush for the
door, and came very near forgetting the proprieties by straightway
leaving home. However, I recovered my equilibrium and rejoined my
friends. I don't think that General Sherman ever grew half so tired of
'Marching Through Georgia' as I have of that creation of mine, and it
will be a blessed relief to me when the public shall conclude to let it
rest."

Apropos of the use made of the song in "Trilby," _Harper's Bazar_
published the words and music; whereupon the author sent this letter to
the editor:--

"It is very pleasing to an old man like myself to have the literary work
of a half-century since dragged to light and commended, as has been the
case with 'Ben Bolt' of late. I was flattered by seeing my likeness--or,
rather, the likeness of a younger man than myself--in your pages; but I
must protest against some errors which, in spite of careful editing,
enter into your transcription of the song. The words of the original
were:--

'Don't you remember the school, Ben Bolt,
With the master so cruel and grim,
And the shaded nook in the running brook,
Where the children went to swim?'

"This has been changed in the song, as usually sung, to read:--

'With the master so kind and so true.
And the little nook by the clear-running brook,
Where we gathered the flowers as they grew?'

"You have copied this, but in a better shape, with the exception of
changing the rhythm. I must protest against this change, because the
school-masters of between sixty and seventy years since were, to my
memory, 'cruel and grim'; they were neither kind nor true. They seemed
to think the only way to get learning into a boy's head was by the use
of the rod. There may have been exceptions, but I never met them. At all
events, 'what I have written I have written.'"

BEN BOLT

I

Oh, don't you remember, Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?
Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown,
Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile,
And trembled with fear at your frown!
In the ol