mesick, I s'pose--and I'd like you to tell--"

"Hand them over," sighed I.

"I will, since you're so pressing. They're in the Edgar Doe stanza."

Doe gave me a soiled piece of paper, and watched me breathlessly. I
read:

TRURO TOWER

Stone lily, white against the clouds unfurled
To mantle skies
Where thunder lies,
White as a virtue in a vicious world,
Give to me, like the praying of a friend,
White hope, white courage, where the war-clouds blend.

Stone lily, coloured now in sunny chrome,
Or washed with rose,
As long days close,
And weary English suns go west'ring home,
Look East, and hither, where there turns to rest
A homing heart that beats an English breast.

Stone lily, first to catch the shaft of day,
And first to wake
For dawns that break
While lower things are steeped in gloaming grey,
Over my banks of twilight look and see
The breezy morn that fills my sails for thee.

"Oh, you've felt like that, have you?" said I. "So've I. Your poem
exactly expresses my feeling, so it must be absolutely IT."

"Rupert, you ripping old liar!" answered Doe, aglow with pleasure.

"No, I mean it; honestly I do."

"Well, anyhow," said Doe, getting up and brushing thistles off his
uniform, "don't you think that now, as 'this long day's closing,'
it's time we two 'weary English _sons_ go west'ring home'?"

I assured him that this was not only vulgar but also void of wit;
and he sulked, while we turned our faces to the west and retraced
our former path. Once again the summits of the hills, as we stepped
upon them, showed us the lofty grandeur of the AEgean world. We
halted to examine the wonderful sight that loomed in the sky-spaces
to the north of Lemnos. This was the huge brows, fronting the
clouds, of the Island of Samothrace. To me they appeared as one long
precipice, from whose top frivolous people (such as Edgar Doe) could
tickle the stars.

"St. Paul left Troas," ventured I, "and came with a straight course
to Samothrace," a little blossom of news which angered Doe, because
he had not thought of it first. So, after deliberate brain-racking,
he went one better with the information:

"The great Greek god, Poseidon, sat on Samothrace, and watched the
Siege of Troy. It looks like the throne of a god, doesn't it? I
wonder if the old boy's sitting there now, wat