oung man had mushed in by the lone Chilcoot Pass
And was known to the boys as "That titled young Ass."

For the stuff he wrote home took Belgravian breath:
"Dear Monty with savages!"--"mushing!"--"to death"!
They were shocked at the mention "pay-dirt"; and "the pan,"
They fully explained, was "held by Monty's man!"
At St. James, The Carlton, The Ritz, it was told
How "Monty owns mountains and canyons of--Gold!"

Came a lapse in the years and the letters. Despair
Seized the hearts in Belgravia--no word from the heir;
For the lure of the Northland--the life of the camp,
Had Monty the Beau transformed into a--tramp
Who had drifted, like jetsam, the breakers among,
And had almost forgotten his own mother-tongue.

* * * * *

[Illustration: PRAY, SIR, HAVE YOU SEEN MR. MARMADUKE]

In the year ninety-eight arrived per Dawson stage
In December, a lady, a maid, and a page;
One clearly of rank. With the air of a queen
She stepped up to the desk, asking: "Pray, have you seen
Mr. Marmaduke Montague-Marlinford-Dunne?"
Adding proudly,--"The gentleman, Sir, is my son."

The clerk at the desk stared and stammered, then said:--
"No gent be that name in this shack has his bed;
But mebbe' th' Boys"--Here he calls to a bunch,
"Say, has any o' youse seed a kid with a hunch
That sounds like--Ma'am, wot was th' name o' y'r son?"
She faltered, "Sir! Montague-Marlinford-Dunne!"

Nobody knew him--worse, nobody cared--
But the bar-keep speaks up (while his quid he prepared),
"Say, w'ot was th' kid like?"--one stared at the other----
"Warn't he a pardner of Billy Bird's brother?
An' had he a bench-claim know'd as 'Bloody Jim'?
'Cos if he had ther's a warn't out f'r HIM!"

"I'll describe him, good sirs," said the lady in tears:
"He left home just of age, namely twenty-one-years.
His hair, sunny gold, is inclined to up-curl----
His complexion is peach-like--he's fair as a girl.
He has large, soulful eyes, they are beaming and kind,--
A soft, bird-like voice--and an artistic mind.

"Military in bearing--broad-shouldered and tall;
Speaks languages seven--a 'linguist,' you'd call.
Paints, sings, rides to hounds; he dresses with care;
A de-lightful manner, with most restful air:--
Oh! prithee, good gentlemen, find me my son,
Whom all Lon