I go and bask in Baker Street,
All in the pouring rain.

[Illustration]

Come snow! where fly, by some strange law,
Hard snowballs--without noise--
Through streets untenanted, except
By good unconscious boys.

[Illustration]

Come fog! exultant mystery--
Where, in strange darkness rolled,
The end of my own nose becomes
A lovely legend old.

Come snow, and hail, and thunderbolts,
Sleet, fire, and general fuss;
Come to my arms, come all at once--
Oh photograph me thus!

[Illustration]

* * * * *




OF THE DANGERS ATTENDING ALTRUISM ON THE HIGH SEAS.