time, and two men-of-war besides the _Octopus_ lying
in the harbour; detachments from every regiment were sent, three
military bands followed, a battery of artillery, the marines and all
the jack tars in the place, the governor and his staff were there,
and every officer, who was not on the sick list, quartered in
Gibraltar, was present. A firing party was told off to fire over the
grave when all was over, and this brilliant procession was met at the
cemetery-gates by the bishop, attended by several clergymen and a
surpliced choir. I forgot to say that a string of carriages followed
the troops, and the entire procession could not have been much less
than a mile long.

"As we crossed the neutral ground this time, the sentry, with arms
reversed, saluted us; and the strains of Beethoven's 'Funeral March
of a Hero,' must have been heard all over Gibraltar as the three
bands--one in front, one in the rear, and one in the centre--all
pealed it forth.

"Of course, not one-third of the funeral _cortege_ could get near the
grave; but I managed to get pretty close. The service proceeded, and
at length the coffin was uncovered to be lowered into the grave; it
was smothered with flowers, but the wreaths were all carefully
removed, and the admiral's cocked-hat and sword, and then the
union-jack was off, and the bishop, the governor, and all the
officers near the grave pressed forward to look at the coffin.

"They looked once, they started; they looked again, they frowned;
they rubbed their eyes; they looked again, then they whispered; they
sniffed, they snorted, they grumbled; they gave hurried orders to
the sextons, who shovelled some earth on to the coffin, and the
bishop hurriedly finished the service.

"What do you think they saw when they looked into the grave?

"Why, poor Munro's coffin! I buried the admiral myself in the
morning, by mistake. The doctor and I found it out at the grave, but
we kept our own counsel."--_Young England_.

LADYSMITH.

BY F. HARALD WILLIAMS.

I.--LADYSMITH OCCUPIED.

Flushed with fight and red with glory,
Conquerors if backward flung,
Fresh from triumphs grim and gory,
Toward the goal the Army swung;
Splendid, but with recent laurels
Dimmed by shadow of defeat,
Thirsting yet for nobler quarrels--
Never dreaming of retreat.

Day by day they gri