“And what is the port you’re plying to?” “When the last long trick is
                done
  There’ll some come back to the old ’ome port—­’ere’s ‘opin’ I’ll be
                one;
  But some ‘ave made a new landfall, an’ sighted another shore,
  An’ it ain’t no use to watch for them, for they won’t come ’ome no
                more. 
  There ain’t no ’arbour dues to pay when once they’re over the bar,
  Moored bow an’ stern in a quiet berth where the lost three-deckers
                are,
  An’ there’s NELSON ‘oldin’ ’is one ‘and out an’ welcomin’ them that’s
                made
  The roads o’ Glory an’ the port of Death in the North Atlantic trade!”

C. F. S.

* * * * *

SELF-DENIAL.

“And what,” I said, “did you do during the Great War, Francesca?”

“In the first place I fine you a sum not exceeding one hundred pounds for asking me such a question.  In the second place I retort upon you by telling you that one of the things you’re going to do during the Great War is to give up marmalade.”

“What!  Give up the thing which lends to breakfast its one and only distinction?  Never.”

“That,” she said, “sounds very brave; but what are you going to do if there isn’t any marmalade to be obtained for love or money?”

“Mine,” I said, “has always been the sort you get for money.  I have not hitherto met the amatory variety; but if it’s really marmalade I’m prepared to have a go at it.”

“And that,” she said, “is very kind of you, but it’s quite useless.  For the moment there’s no marmalade of any kind to be had.”

“None of the dark-brown variety?”

“No.”

“Or the sort that looks like golden jelly?”

“Not a scrap.”

“Or the old-fashioned but admirable kind?  The excellent substitute for butter at breakfast?”

“That must go like the rest.  It has been a substitute for the last time.”

“Impossible,” I said.  “Everything is now a substitute for something else.  Marmalade started being a substitute long ago, and it isn’t fair to stop it and let the other things go on.”

“Well,” she said, “what are you going to do about it?  If you can’t get Seville oranges how are you going to get Seville orange marmalade?”

“Oh, that’s it, is it?”

“Yes, that’s it, more or less.  And now let’s have your remedy.”

“You needn’t think,” I said, “that I’m going to take it lying down.  I shall go up to London and defy Lord RHONDDA to his face.  I shall write pro-marmalade letters to various newspapers.  I shall form a Marmalade League, with branches in all the constituencies so as to bring political pressure to bear.  I shall head a deputation to the PRIME MINISTER.  I shall get Mr. KING or Mr. HOGGE or Mr. PRINGLE, or all three of them, to ask questions in the House of Commons.  In short I shall exhaust all the usual devices for giving the Government a thoroughly uncomfortable time.”