their own families and troubles, like their fathers
and mothers before them.

Where were the children ? Ah, where were they
not ? Lizzie was in Australia; Mary was in Buenos
Ayres; Poll was in New York; Joe had died in
India, and so they called them up, the living and
the dead, soldier and sailor, and colonist s wife, for
the traveller s sake who sat in their kitchen.

They passed me a photograph. A trim young
fellow in soldier s garb looked out at me.

"And which son is this ? " I asked.

They laughed a hearty chorus. Son ! Nay,
grandson, just back from Indian service and a
soldier-trumpeter to the King. His brother was
in the same regiment with him. And so it ran,
sons and daughters, and grand sons and daughters,
world-wanderers and empire-builders, all of them,
while the old folks stayed at home and worked at
building empire too.

/tab\There dwells a wife by the Northern Gate,
/tab\And a wealthy wife is she;
/tab\She breeds a breed o rovin men
/tab\And casts them over sea.

/tab\And some are drowned in deep water,
/tab\And some in sight of shore;
/tab\And word goes back to the weary wife,
/tab\And ever she sends more.

[[183]]

p182 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p183w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p184

v?