THE IMIGRANT SHIP.

Otago Witness, Issue 2668, 3 May 1905, Page 76

THE IMIGRANT SHIP.

A ship was sailing o'er the sea To Auckland, northern city; And all aboard were glad, and free Loud rang the sailors' ditty. There many an eye was gleaming bright, And> many a heart was beating; The longed-for land was well in sight, The ship-board hours were fleeting. The dancing of a tricksy breeze Disturbed tlte dreamy ocean, And checked its mood of slumberous ease With gay and giddy motion. The sky was bright and free from clouds Above the old-time wherry; The sails were tugging at her shrouds, The decks below were merry. As on she sped, right gaily on, Beneath her spread sails' urging, While February sunshine shone

Athwart the billows surging Against a Titan wall of rock, Upreared exceeding proudly, The broad Pacific's might to mock, Its spent waves murmur loudly. That wall of rock is in her path. Hark! how the shrouds are straining; The baffled waters break in wrath, And still the ship is gaining. Ha! there's a stir^ upon her deck A sudden sense of error ; A fearful imminence of wreck — Paralysis of terror. "All hands!" the bosun pipes from aft, And fore they wildly scurry. All rank and station on that craft Forgotten in the flurry. While every man caught at the rope In desperation grimly; For land and life, a^ forlorn hope, Seen thro' the whffe spume dimly. High in the air the' frowning cliff, Sheer from the f oani-ftecked water ; No power had saved 'them if a whiff Of wandering wind had caught her. The captain shouted from the poop, But one mistook the order, And, panther-like, upon the group He sprang in wild disorder. " For God's sake, every man take hold, I'll shoot the man who blundered." Then women fainted, men turned cold, And loud the surges thundered. They used to tell, who dreed that hour, So near the rock was lowering, A careless hand had tossed a flower Against that bastion towering. Full slowly swerved that reckless prow From death and dire disaster. The dew dried on each pallid brow, Each pxilse beat firm and faster. And by the fire o' winter nights, "When fields with frost were hoary, The emigrant his child delights "With " "Willie Watson's story." — Roslyr, Auckland, April, 1905.

— Church : "The old general always wanted to bo where the fighting was, thickest." Gotham: "Is that a fact?" Church: "Oh, yes. Why, even when ha went to church he asked if he might sit up in the choir." A horror came to me one night—

A spectre blear and old — "Your name?" I cried, in wild affrigbi. It said, "I am a cold." "Begone!" I cried, "your clammy touch] I will no more endure!"" And straight it vanished at the sight Of Woods' Great Peppermint Cues*