"mother-ship," their role in this respect may be outlined by subsequent experiment beyond the possibility of criticism. The right line of action was set forth by the Secretary to the United States Navy when he informed Congress that "well trained and thoroughly reliable crews are indispensable for submarine boats, and like all torpedo boats their efficiency will largely depend on the nerve, dash and steadfastness of their personnel." This marks the accurate attitude towards the submarine boat in its present stage-a desire to ascertain its powers, and a recognition that this can be done only by detailing officers and men to the craft, and giving them every opportunity and encouragement to test the capabilities of this audacious development of naval warfare. So far as can be judged this is the line of action that the British Admiralty have laid down, and this way lies truth as opposed to theoretical condemnation or over-appreciation, both of which are fraught with danger.

ARCHIBALD S. HURD,

THE DRUMMER BOY.

BROAD is the beach and bare and white
That round an island lies,

Bright are the waves and ever bright
Till lost against the skies;

Or up the reef before the breeze
The foaming billows pour
Among the drift of distant seas
Flung on that lonely shore.
An oaken knoll of mainland met
This island and its pines,
And there the enemy had set
His camp in ordered lines.
The night across the ocean fled,
The noon crept o'er the hill,
And but a dull succession led
Of sleep and smoke and drill-
Of smoke and sleep and drill.

Some guns and men went straggling by
The outer beach one day,

While pickets watched with shaded eye.
The inner coast and bay;
When opposite the camp they stop,
Enforced awhile to rest,

Until the tardy sun shall drop

Down through the crimson West..
Across the isle their guns they roll,
Nor wish a cloud away,

Till straight abreast the tented knoll
Where unsuspicious lay

Their enemies. And winds in vain

The ragged canvas shake,

No sleeper turns, or turns again
To sleep and not to wake-

Not one the winds awake.

The cannoneers beneath the pines
Look eagerly for dawn,

And wonder if the foe divines

The net around him drawn;
Athwart his camp-fire's fitful glow
What sombre shadows throng,
Still mutely come and hover low
The careless tents along.

The sergeant trains his guns aright
Before the flicker dies,.

While faintly swells of pallid light
Break over Eastern skies.

With lanyard loosely held they wait
The word, nor with a thought

Of useless pity hesitate,

So well their trade was taught

Their bloody trade was taught.

Here, then, they watch, and there they rest
Until a drummer boy,
With mind by daily task impressed,
Returns to his employ.
Reluctantly he quits his bed,

Collecting what he dreamed:

"I thought I was at home," he said,
"How glad and gay it seemed!"
At once they must their usual round
About the camp begin,

At once the arid hills are drowned

With military din;

And ever as the drumming spread

That drowsy morning through,
"I thought I was at home," he said,
"I wish that it were true—
That it were only true."

The rattle loud of reveille
Dispels each sleeper's fear

For phantom joys that seem to flee,
Of ills that follow near;

The tents disgorge along the height
A yawning group, nor loath

Are they to gibe some moody wight
Who answers by an oath.

With brush and bough the fire they nurse,
It flares against the hills,

One lights a pipe, and one a verse

Of rustic humor trills

The sergeant grimly smiled. Each gun
He nicely now aligns

Upon the throng, nor heeds a one
The wind among the pines-
The wind and wailing pines.

From out the gloom, with sudden glare
And crash, upon these souls

So blithe the shell came plunging where
They gathered 'round the coals;
And hardly has a moment sped

Since song and laugh were heard, But now upon the silence dead

No leaf nor whisper stirred. Though oft they may the roll repeat, There will no answer come

From him who on that morning beat
So merrily the drum.

He sleeps where oleanders build.

Each spring their scarlet dome, With wish forevermore fulfilled, Since now he is at homeForevermore at home.

H. W. CLOSSON,

Colonel, U. S. A.

PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF WHAT HAPPENED IN MANILA BAY

AFTER THE BATTLE.

THE troops that arrived on June 30th, under command of General Anderson, established themselves in the Cavite arsenal and went to drilling. The rainy season had begun about the middle of June, and was now in full swing.

It was excessively uncomfortable on board ship, but we in the Petrel preferred the rain to the blazing weather we had had before, because it made the air a little cooler and drove away the mosquitoes, and brought more breeze; but it was not very gay at the best. We swung around our anchor day after day, and watched the rain, and walked up and down the deck in our bare feet. We had about eighty rubber blankets on the ship, and we served them out to as many men, for them to sleep on on deck, because there was not breathing space enough for all to sleep below in such a heat. There was always half of one watch on duty at night under arms, besides several sentries; they were nearly always wet.

Things seemed about as uncomfortable as they could be, but we had only to imagine how much worse it would be for the Army when they landed on shore, to become quite contented with our lot. Our launches and tugs patrolled the bay at night, and we kept a bright lookout. At intervals there would come the report that the Spaniards were to make a desperate attack that night. We always believed these reports and braced ourselves; and night after night we strained our eyes, and sent the searchlights all over the bay. When we turned in we noted carefully where each garment lay, so that we might get on deck quickly. We kept our papers and affairs in such condition that there would be no trouble if we should be killed. But the attack never came, and none of us were killed.

On the 17th of June the second detachment of troops came under command of Brigadier General Greene. By this time the Filipinos had fought their way to a position within range of Fort San Antonio, which was at the southern end of the defences of Manila.