Here's to his nod for the stranger;
Here's to his grip for a friend;
And here's to the hand, on the sea, or the land,
Ever ready the right to defend.

There's a troop of trusty children from the Island
Who've planted Englands up and down the sea;
Who cultivate the lowland and the highland
And fly the gallant colours of the free:
Their hearts are as loyal as their mother's;
Their hands are as ready as their sire's
Their bond is a union of brothers,--
Who fear not a holocaust of fires!
Then here's to the Sons of the nation
Flying the flag of the free;
Holding the farm and the station,
Keeping the Gates of the Sea;
Handed and banded together,
In Arts, and in Arms, and in Song,
Father and son, united as one,
Bearing her Banners along,
Peacefully furled in the van of the world,
Or waving and braving the wrong!




THE RED ROSE OF WAR.

BY F. HARALD WILLIAMS.