LIKE the he . t of a woman (pathetic and tender), Tet stalwart and strong, with a soul ever true: Alert with pure courage his service to render— These are the men in the jerseys of blue.

For whenever the storm with its death-dealing finger Bolls up from the caverns its army of sound, In the long diapasons that pause not nor linger, The men of the Life-boat will always be found.

Not over the battlefield, wreathed in his glory, Will he flash up aloft the bright sheen of his blade; For sung not in legend, scarce whispered in story, Is the terrible struggle his good arm hath made.

His weapon—the rocket—the-_ deep shadows rifting, With Hope in the wake at each gleam of its star; His sword—but the oar—the white surges uplifting; His music—the life-song that rings o'er the bar! Deep down in the heart of an Englishman ever Is the love for the honest, the noble, and brave; And, sure, from his bosom Time never shall sever The nerve that rides on the crest of the wave! For with joy he 'will mount lip the hills of the ocean, Or sweep down its ravines with courage sublime:— One noble endeavour—his only devotion— To guard, like an angel, the coasts of our time. G. W. LINO.

NOTICE.

The next number of the LIFE-BOAT JOURNAL will be published on the let February, 1900..