good-bye, Jim:
Take keer of yourse'f!"

Tuk the papers, the Old man did,
A-watchin' fer Jim--
Fully believin' he'd make his mark
_Some_ way--jes' wrapped up in him!--
And many a time the word 'u'd come
'At stirred him up like the tap of a drum--
At Petersburg, fer instance, where
Jim rid right into their cannons there,
And tuk 'em, and p'inted 'em t'other way,
And socked it home to the boys in grey,
As they skooted fer timber, and on and on--
Jim a lieutenant and one arm gone,
And the Old man's words in his mind all day,--
"Well; good-bye, Jim:
Take keer of yourse'f!"

Think of a private, now, perhaps,
We'll say like Jim,
'At's clumb clean up to the shoulder-straps--
And the Old man jes' wrapped up in him!
Think of him--with the war plum' through,
And the glorious old Red-White-and-Blue
A-laughin' the news down over Jim,
And the Old man, bendin' over him--
The surgeon turnin' away with tears
'At hadn't leaked fer years and years--
As the hand of the dyin' boy clung to
His father's, the old voice in his ears,--
"Well; good-bye, Jim:
Take keer of yourse'f!"

_James Whitcomb Riley._

A SAILOR'S YARN

_This is the tale that was told to me,
By a battered and shattered son of the sea--
To me and my messmate, Silas Green,
When I was a guileless young marine._

"'Twas the good ship _Gyascutus_,
All in the China seas,
With the wind a-lee and the capstan free
To catch the summer breeze.

"'Twas Captain Porgie on the deck,
To his mate in the mizzen hatch,
While the boatswain bold, in the forward hold,
Was winding the larboard watch.

"'Oh, how does our good ship head to-night!
How heads our gallant craft?'
'Oh, she heads to the E. S. W. by N.,
And the binnacle lies abaft!'

"'Oh, what does the quadrant indicate,
And how does the sextant stand?'
'Oh, the sextant's down to the freezing point,
And the quadrant's lost a hand!'

"'Oh, and if the quadrant has lost a hand,
And the sextant falls so low,
It's our bodies and bones to Davy Jones
This night are bound to go!

"'Oh, fly aloft to the garboard strake!
And reef the spanker boom;
Bend a studding sail on the martingale,
To give her weather room.

"'Oh, boatswain, down in the for'ard hold
What water do you find?'
'Four foot and a half by the royal gaff
And rather more behind!'

"'Oh, sailors, collar your marline spikes
A