here am I."

Swing in your strokes in order, let foot and hand keep time;
Your blows make sweeter music far than any steeple's chime.
But while you sling your sledges, sing--and let the burden be,
"The anchor is the anvil king, and royal craftsmen we:"
Strike in, strike in--the sparks begin to dull their rustling red;
Our hammers ring with sharper din, our work will soon be sped.

Our anchor must soon change his bed of fiery rich array,
For a hammock at the roaring bows, or an oozy couch of clay;
Our anchor must soon change the lay of merry craftsmen here,
For the "Yeo-heave-o'!" and the "Heave-away!" and the sighing
seaman's cheer;
When, weighing slow, at eve they go--far, far from love and home;
And sobbing sweethearts, in a row, wail o'er the ocean foam.

In livid and obdurate gloom he darkens down at last;
A shapely one he is, and strong, as e'er from cast was cast.
O, trusted and trustworthy guard, if thou hadst life like me,
What pleasures would thy toils reward beneath the deep green sea!

O, broad-armed diver of the deep, whose sports can equal thine?
The good ship weighs a thousand tons, that tugs thy cable line;
And, night by night, 'tis thy delight, thy glory day by day,
Through sable sea and breaker white, the giant game to play.
O, lodger in the sea-king's halls, couldst thou but understand
Whose be the white bones by thy side, once leagued in patriot band!
O, couldst thou know what heroes glide with larger steps round thee,
Thine iron sides would swell with pride; thou'dst leap within the
sea!

Give honor to their memories who left the pleasant strand,
To shed their blood so freely for love of father-land--
Who left their chance of quiet age and grassy church-yard grave
So freely, for a restless bed amid the tossing wave--
O, though our anchor may not be all I have fondly sung,
Honor him for their memory, whose bones he goes among!

LORD DUNDREARY AT BRIGHTON.

AND THE RIDDLE HE MADE THERE.

One of the many popular delusions wespecting the Bwitish swell is the
supposition that he leads an independent life,--goes to bed when he
likes, gets up when he likes, d-dwesses how he likes, and dines when
he pleases.

The public are gwossly deceived on this point. A weal swell is as
m-much under authowity as a p-poor devil of a pwivate in the marines,
a clerk in a government office, or a f-forth-form boy at Eton. Now