would cheer on his friend Henley. Henley was a born poet, and it is not to be wondered that he was able—to use Stevenson's term—to spit out admirable lines, lines whose wisdom entitled him to the appellation of "Don." But life was cruel to Henley; the world never "patted" his shoulders, as towards the end it patted the shoulders of Stevenson, and these verses, thus faulty in prophecy, have their value mainly as a bright jeu d' esprit dating from the younger days of the two men.
EH, MAN HENLEY, YOU'RE A DON!
Eh, man Henley, you're a Don!
Man, but you're a deevil at it!
This ye made an hour agone—
Tht!—like that—as tho ye'd spat it,—
Eh, man Henley.
Better days will come anon
When you'll have your shoulders pattit,
And the whole round world, odd rat it!
Will cry out to cheer you on;
Eh, man Henley, you're a Don!
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