VA, m IS!,- f^.3lo31iLU^. Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013480185 Cornell University Library PR 47S9.H382L4 The lazy lays, and prose imaginings; writ 3 1924 013 480 185 THE LAZY LAYS, AND FBOSS IMAGININGS. WBITTEN, PBINTED, PUBLISHED, AND BEVIEWED BY WILLIAM H. HAEEISON. A.D. 1877 (POPULAB CHKONOLOaY;) A.M, S877 (TORQUEMADA;) A.M. 50,800,077 (HXTXLEY.) 38 GsEAT BussKUi Street, London. E-V, CONTENTS. PAGE MISCELLANEOUS POEMS AND PE.OSE WRITINGS— THE LAY OF THE LAZY AUTHOB, 7 THE LAY OF THE NEWSPAPER EDITOE, 11 THE SONG OF THE PAWNBROKBE, - 13 ^t (Ksstb, - - 16 THE LAY OF THE FAT MAN, 18 THE POETEY OF SCIENCE, 20 HOW HADJI AL SHACABAC WAS PHOTO- GEAPHED : (A letter from Hadji Al Shacabac, a gentlemaa who visited London on busi- ness connected witb a Turkish Loan, to Ali Muatapha Ben Buckram, Chief of ' the College of Howling Dervishes at Constantinople,) .... 25 THE LAY OF THE BROAD-BKIMMED HAT, 37 ST. bbide's bay, - 40 THE LAY OF THE MAEKET-GAEDENEE, - 4:3 " FAST FALLS THE EVENTIDE," 47 OUR RAVEN, - - - 49 MATEEIALISTIC RELIGION, - 55 iV CONTENTS. PAGE THE LAY OP THE PHOTOGRAPHER, - 62 HOW TO DOUBLE THE UTILITY OF THE PRINTING PRESS, - 68 THE SONG OF THE MOTHER-IN-LAW, 76 WIRBEL-BEWEGUNG, - 82 " POOR OLD JOE ! " 92 THE HUMAN HIVE, 95 THE LAY OF THE MACE-BEARERS, 98 A LOVE SONG, 103 A VISION, 105 UNDER THE LIMES, 109 THE ANGEL OF SILENCE, - - 111 THE WOBBLEJAW BALLADS— (By Anthony Wdbblejaws. ) NO. I. THE PUBLIC ANALYST, 118 NO. II. GENERAL GRANT'S RECEPTION AT FOLKESTONE, - - - 124 NO. III. THE RIFLE CORPS, 131 NO. IV. TONY's LAMENT, 135 NO. V. THE JULY BUG, 143 NO. VI. THE CONVERTED CARMAN, 149 Some of these Poems and Prose Essays have been previously printed in daily newspapers, and in serial publications, whilst the others are now issued for the first time. " Wirbel- hewegung" was originally published in The Ihigineer, and "How Hadji Al Shacabac was Photographed" in The British Journal of Pho- tography. This first edition of some of the Author's Collected Writings is now dedicated, without permission, to the inhabitants of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, the Islands in the British Seas, and the town of Berwick-upon-Tweed; also to the rest of the dwellers upon the Terrestrial Globe. THE LAY or THE LAZY AUTHOR. On the softest of banks in the silent wood, All screened from the summer sky, And the piercing rays of the noonday sun, We'll lazily watch the streamlet run, And the bright-eyed water-rats splashing in fun, Eree from all fears of a Cockney gun, * Or the grave of a London pie. And we'll dreamily watch the squirrel aloft, A-wagging his scrumptious tail. Swinging amain on the slender birch Eight up in the clouds. What a dangerous perch ! If that twig should give a wind-driven lurch He'll fall ; and his partner in vain will search For his aeronautical trail. 8 THE LAY OF THE LAZY AUTHOR. And ■we'll hear the buzz of the humble bee, As he plays his laziest tune; Closing our eyes whilst his drowsy hum Gently tickles the tympanum's drum, And his poor little wings grow weary and numb, Uplifting that body as big as a plum, On the hottest day in June. And I'll write some verses for young and old. Mixed up with prose as well ; And when .readers ask on this hottest of days, What I mean by idly presenting as " lays " Interspersed non-poetical prize es-says — I'll murmur deep down in my drowsy maze, " It's really too warm to tell ; " Decide the question to suit yourselves, " And don't be misled by me ; " Just keep your thoughts as free as the wind : " "When a theory's crude you invariably find " Some good-natured friend so awfully kind, " As to try in advance to bias your mind ; " / leave you perfectly free." THE LAY OP THE LAZY AUTHOR. H Yes, the mind shall wander in fancy free, Like waves on the rippling stream; Comedy, tragedy, science, and fun. In my lays shall find a place each one,' Like citron and sweets on a twopenny bun. And shall vanish again when their rdle is done La my phantasmagorial dream. N'owf fare-thee-well, my listeners dear. After this passing peep, At the lazy one who sings this lay, On a woodland bank on a summer's day, WhUst a fairy's eyes, in their gentle way. On her most devoted loved one play. As he sinks in tranquil sleep. On the cover of this book is a fine Griffin or " Gryphon," a time-honoured bird, who, in the days of old, kept guard over treasure, and pro- tected it from appropriation by his natural enemies, the one-eyed Arimaspians of northern regions. The particular Arimaspians upon -whom our Griffin is keeping watoh, are those American publishers who may gaze upon this book with a single and undivided eye to their own personal interests. What they have to expect should they interfere with the Griffin and his trust, has thus been told by Milton; — As when a gryphon, through the wilderness, With wingfed course ore hill or moarie dale, Pursues the Aiimaspian, who by stelth Had from his wakeful custody purloind The guarded gold. Paradise Lost. Book II. THE LAY OS THE NEWSPAPEK EDITOE. A REVIEW OF "the LAZY LAYS." In a column of books on our table piled, We perceive The Lazy Lays, And the "work having been thus observed by Us, "We feel it deserves great praise. But Our space is so small in these stirring times, For aught but weighty themes, And the Universe needs so much care from Us, That "We shun all rhyming dreams. Our greatly increased circulation just now, Drives tremors through Church and State, But advertisements brought up to ten p.m.. Will not reach Our hands too late. 12 THE LAY OF THK NEWSPAPER EDITOR, We regret the jealousy, envy, and hate Rival poets mil show, and their fuss At Our words for this book, but We say once more. That The Lays have been seen by Us. Tlie Scilly Islcmds' " Trumpet Blast." THE SONG THE PAWNBEOKEE. [When the Vale of Neath Railway was extended to Swansea, the Mayor and Corporation of that town invited the Directors of the Swansea and Neath Kailway Com- pany to a public breakfast, on the morning of the opening of the new line. The following verses were written at the time the public raised the question, whether the local authorities were or were not justified in defraying the expenses of the breakfast out of the rates.] Oh, plesh my heart ! Oh, plesh my heart ! Old Ikey's heart ish sad. To see de vaste in monish made It drivsh me almost mad. Tour hundred poundsh ! Four hundred poundsh ! In public breakfast shpent ; AU losht ! — all down their gaping throatsh De lovely monish went. 14 THE SONG OF THE PAWMBROKER. Four hundred poundsh ! Four hundred poundsh ! Mine heart ish breaking — oh ! 'Twould buy a nish new Shynnygogue ; A mountain of old clo'. De leetle boys vat valks de street, And puU my gaberdine, Vould never vaste good monish so, De shilds are moche too keen. Let all de monish you don't want Be to old Ikey shent. And he will lend to Christian dogsh At shixty-shix per shent. Lisht to an uncle's kind advish. And hear my gentle callsh. Or I will leave your vasteful town. And so will my three ballsh. Ikey Ben Solomons. 1h« €aBtlc. In the silence of eve when the shadows were falling, And the rocks and the twilight grew pallid and grey, I gazed on a castle once famous in story, And thought upon those who had long passed away. Eound the ivy-clad turrets the sea-birds were screaming, And the torrents beneath in their murmuring flow. Sighed a sorrowful dirge, 'mid the gloom and the darkness, O'er the graves of the mighty ones sleeping below. 16 THE CASTLE. I gazed on the moat with its cold icy water. On the courtyard and terrace with nettles o'er- grown; Through each dark winding passage my footsteps re-echoed, And I silently mused as I wandered alone. The rack and the .dungeon, the chain and the fetter, Have long done the work of oppression and wrong ; But their dark reign of terror has vanished for ever. For the truth has prevailed o'er the power of the strong. Oh, beautiful ruin, a moral thou teachest : Thy dark desolation, thy dust and decay, Are but emblems and types of tyrannical ages. Which are fading full fast, and must soon pass away. THE CASTLE. 17 I wish not to see thee again, in thy splendour, Of pomp and magnificence — ^fleeting as sand — O'er the race of humanity freedom is dawning, And a happier time for mankind is at hand. Of the nations of earth the foundations are shak- ing, For purposes, deeper than mortal can tell, Are working and weaving with men and their passions. And ruling the universe wisely ^nd weU. THE LAY 61' THE FAT MAN, [Written shortly after the publication of Mr. Banting's essay instructing stout people how to reduce their size.] How many a happy though indolent hour, Do we pass o'er the pages of Scott, Till we seem to live in the days of old. And the present is all forgot. For the air he peoples with life-like forms. And teems with fire his page. As he leads by the power of his master mind Through the scenes of a bygone age. THE LAY OP THE FAT MAN. 19 But the pages of Banting are sweeter by far, 'Tis nice o'er his writings to dwell; TTia smiles for the lean, and his tears for the fat, Are kinder than mortal can teU ; The lean ones of earth he envelops in oil, And warms with an unctuous fleece, Whilst the lubberly man, the two-legged globe. Is quickly distilled of Ms grease. Yet I hate the old man who could sit down and write Such a volume on animal fat. Who weighs himself every day in the scales, Exclusive of coat, boots, and hat ; So cover him o'er with oblivion's shroud, Then shelve him as fast as you can, And we'll all of us drop a large marrow-fat tear O'er the grave of the greasy old man. THE POETEY OF SCIENCE SAY not Science lacketh charms To ■woo the poet's pen, To swell the pages of romance, Or thrill the souls of men ; Her's is a realm of fairy land, A scene of endless change, Where eye and ear are all confused With wonders passing strange. She binds the eternal elements. She yokes them to the plough, And iron steeds with heai-ts of fire Speed at her bidding now ; THE POETEY OF SCIENCE. 21 Deep in the Ocean's solitude She her bright name engraves, Unscathed she treads its golden sands And cleaves its surging waves.* She joins the nations of the earth With mystic net-work bands, Binding in common brotherhood The dwellers in aU lands; Whilst through these wondrous arteries The lightning pulses thrill, Bearing glad news of " Peace on Earth," To all mankind, "Goodwill." * "Bridges, unsupported by arches, can be made to span the foaming current ; man shall descend to the bot- tom of the ocean safely, breathing, and treading with firm steps on the golden sands, never brightened by the light of day. Call but the secret powers of Sol and Luna into action, and behold a siijgle steersman sitting at the helm guiding the vessel, which divides the waves with greater rapidity than if she had been fiUed with a crew of marin- ers toiling at the oars. And the loaded chariot, no longer encumbered with panting steeds, darts on its course with relentless force and actiAdty. Let the simple elements do their duty ; biad the eternal elements, and yoke them to the same plough." — Friar Bacon's Prophecy. 22 THK POETRY OF SCIENCE. She bends their orbits, and the stars Speed on their track of light, Sparkling afar in heaven's dark hall, Like glories in the night; The planets feel her lion grasp As their bright paths they run. And with relentless laws she guides The Chariot of the Sun. The trees relate their fairy tales, TJie plants unfold their store Of wisdom and design, and tell Truths never dreamt before. The lightning plays around her feet And does her bidding well. The very stones break forth in song, List to the tales they teU: — They tell how chaos ruled — ^how earth Lay wrapped in death-like sleep. How silence reigned in majesty. And darkness veiled the deep. THE POKTRY OP SCIENCE. 23 They tell Low life uprose on earth, ■ How forests clothed the land, And step by step reveal the work Of HIS Almighty hand. Calmly in sUence and in gloom, In caverns of the earth. They teach vain man the nothingness Of his ephemeral birth ; Show him dread scenes of former life Long to destruction hurled. And on earth's pillars bid him read The history of a world. Behold another votary still— The light her aid has given — Light, whose bright beams of purity Rushed angel-winged from heaven. Then fair Aurora lit the north, And shook her streaming bars. Then earth awoke, awoke to life — Then sang the morning stars. 24 THE POETRY OF SCIENCE. Yet learn, Enchantress, thy domain A limit still must know ; Thus far, O Science, is thine own — Farther thou canst not go. In Councils of Eternity HIS wondrous ways were planned — Ways that elude thy piercing eye, Defy thine iron hand. Remotest ages yet untold Shall own thy powerful sway, Till man with aU his noble works Shall pass from earth for aye. For ever teach him Nature's laws. Unfold his Maker's will. Guide him in paths of light and truth, And lead him upwards still. HOW HADJI AL SHACABAC WAS PHOTOGRAPHED. The original of the following letter is writ ben in the choicest Arabic, of which I here present my readers with a translation. The letter is from Hadji Al Shacahac, a gentleman who visited London on business connected with a Turkish Loan, to Ali Mustapha Ben Buckram, chief of the College of Howling Dervishes, at Constantinople : — Sweet, O Ali ! are the moments thus snatched from the hurry of existence, when in the silence of night I take up my quill to hold sweet communion with the friend of my youth. No longer, alas ! can we tread together the gardens of Istamboul, listening to the sweet notes of the nightingale, with its wings gHsteniug in the silver rays of the 26 HOW HADJI AL SHACABAC silent moon, its melody changing with, each zephyr which gracefully undulates the leaves of the lofty palampore. Happy be thy days, O AU ! — serene and peace- ful the hours of thy existence ! Sweet, indeed, is the memory of friendship, grateful the remem- brance of affection Tinto the soul of Al Shacabac, who now, far away from the wise utterances of thy learned lips, languishes like the love-sick bul- bul when deprived of the company of the rose. Allah is great; so now with sable fluid, and the quill of a grey goose, I tell thee, Ali, of my fearful adventure with the wizards of the crystal cages, in this vast city of the infidels. May the graves of their fathers be eternally defiled ! Here, O Ali, people take portraits, and, in fact, pursue all occupations with the visible assistance of the Evil One. They traverse rivers on the backs of dragons, and float through air Suspended to eggs of fiends, whUst on land screaming demons of fire, with red and green eyes of Hght, fly with a thousand infidels at once through the bowels of WAS PHOTOQBAPHED. 27 tie earth. The shrieks of these fire (lemons are horrible, rivalling the cries of those livid angels Monkir and Nakir, who, says our Holy Prophet, question every unbeliever directly he is laid in the grave, and beat him on the temples with an iron mace till he roars with anguish. Yesj in this awful place, O AH, they hatch birds, and I am told babies, by steam; and the barbers in their shops force the heads of their customers against a revolving wheel to clear the mud out of their brains. Thou hast heard of the wicked Magi, or Wor- shippers of Kre, whom our Holy Prophet kicked out from his vast dominions as he would unclean dogs. A remnant of these unbelieving curs exists here, within the walls of this Unholy City, and gains, it is said, immense sums by taking por- traits by the aid of foul incantations. Allah bismillah ! It is said the giaours bottle sunbeams for this uiiholy purpose, and that the powerful and malignant Genii, Klo Eyne and SU Ver, are their chief abettors. The wizards, tmlike those 28 HOW HADJI AL SHACABAC of yore who taunted the dark caverns of the earth, live in glass cages upon the housetops. I longed for my portrait to send' to thee, O Ali, and the fourteen wives who mourn because of my absence in the land of the stranger ; yet my infidel friend, Sammi Ben Jones, was long in over- coming my scruples against visiting these wizards in their crystal cages. However, by his advice I walked along the street of Mi Lend, where many ^1 wizards, for the sum of sixpence in infidel money, exercise their unholy incantations. It was a fine morning. I walked along with the dignity remarkable to my family, dressed in my best pink breeches, yellow coat, and scarlet turban, wondering whether I should have to pass through many difficulties before one of the wizards would allow me to enter his domicUe. My doubts were soon at rest. I was forcibly seized, Ali, by six of the filthy emissaries of these magicians, who caught hold of my flowing robes, thrust gleaming squares of crystal beneath my very nose, each pulHng me with all his force. WAS PHOTOGRAPHED. 29 and uttering curses in the barbarian tongue against the others who sought to force me into their mas- ters' abode. " Allah kerim ! " I exclaimed in fainting accents, "these dogs mil murder me, and my bones will whiten in the land of the stranger." Suddenly a dragoman in blue came along the path, uttering the cabalistic word "Moovon," which I entered afterwards in my note-book. At the sound of it the miserably-clad giaours each slunk into the entrance of his employer's den, and contented himself with verbal adjurations. I entered one abode which seemed less repulsive than the rest, and asked the imp at the door to admit me to the seer, his master. He shouted up the stairs, " Olio ! Eerz an- othergui !" which I was afterwards told by Sammi Ben Jones means, " Make ready, O master ! The Wise and Noble Hadji comes !" Having taken the fatal step into the dark arch- way, I must confess, O Ali, my frame shook with terror — my trembling knees refused their office. 30 HOW HADJI AL SHACABAC To propitiate the evil Genii I took my shoes from off my feet at the entrance, and proceeded along the passage to a flight of stairs, vhere I pros- trated myself, bowing three times towards Mecca. I found myself raised from behind with startling rapidity and pain, caused by the toe of the giaour, who, according to the infidel custom, lifted me to my feet ia this manner by the sole strength of his accursed leg. The pain I feel to this day, and I fear it will never leave me till I bathe ia the pond blessed by Our Holy Prophet, which is supplied by two pipes from Al Cawthar, one of the rivers of the Paradise of the True Believers. With faltering steps I trod the ricketty stairs, and at last stood before the portal of the dread abode, on the panels of which were inscribed fearful cabalistic signs of mystic import, and in large red characters the words "John Smith," which, 1 believe, formed the name of the vile son of Jehanum himself. The door opened. The figure of the dread WAS PHOTOGRAPHED. 31 wizard, with a fiendish grin across his thin face, stood before my awe-struck gaze. Directly he saw me he opened his eyes and roared, "Omosis!" Then he sank into a seat, his sides shaking with idiotic laughter. In words of thunder he shouted to me in the infidel tongue — " Aintew akure 1" at which I was ready to sink through the floor with fright. He motioned me to a seat- in a chair with no bottom to it, and told me to gaze my hardest at a small picture nailed to the wall. ^ O Ali ! how shall I describe that picture ? In our native land nothing but the eyes of our houris are visible to the stranger, yet here the women run about wild without any keepers, have even their necks bare, and are supposed to possess souls. But the one in this picture, O Ali, stood in a barbarian theatre. She was dressed only in gauze, and was spinning round on one leg like your tame monkey Korac when in the height of his antics. "Allah akbar!"said I, "What can equal the c 32 HOW HADJI AL SHACABAC wickedness of these Christian dogs ! May their fathers' graves be for ever defiled." The wizard next fixed the back of my neck in an iron instrument, so that I could not turn away my gaze. " Staffir Allah ! " I cried in agony, " the anguish of the bowstring cannot equal this. I choke ! I expire ! Shades of my fathers ! The wretched Shacabac will soon die with the throes of sufibca- tion, and skate over the bridge Al Sirat into the Paradise of the True Believers !" I thought my last hour was nigh, especially when I saw the magician hide his head in a black curtain, as though he wis"hed not to witness my agonies. He then retired to his secret den, O Ali, mut- tering accursed incantations, and came out with a small cabinet constructed of cedar, in which, no doubt, a wondrous talisman was concealed. He placed this in a kind of cannon covered with a pall of funeral black, and then he pointed this direful weapon at my head. My hair stood on WAS PHOTOGEAPHED. 33 end, my eyes dilated with, terror, my parched tongue clave to the roof of my mouth. He un- covered the opening of the cannon. I sprang up with a shriek of terror, the iron instrument of torture stUl clinging to my neck, and with out- stretched arms implored Allah to forgive me for entering the unhallowed den of the wizard of the crystal cage. In this attitude did the Evil Genii take my portrait. The magician again retired to his den, where I heard the sound of running water; then he returned with a plate of crystal, and show- ing it to me made signs of approval, uttering, in a commendatory tone, the words, "Tharz astunner ! " But, O Ali, the picture of thy friend was ugly in the extreme. The aspect of abject fright was upon my countenance; stars were represented bursting above my head, a long-tailed comet streamed from my nose, whilst my body was spotted all over, yea, even like unto that of the monkey Korac. No doubt the mighty power of 34 HOW HADJI XL SHACABAC the stm had copied the evil planetary influences which in that direful moment had threatened me, but were at the time invisible to mortal eye. I carefully tied the crystal tablet in my turban, handing sixpence to the wizard as I turned to Jeave. The red-haired monster jumped between me and the door, and in the vilest language de- manded "fibob," or five shillings. In vain I expostulated and ofiered another sixpence, making double his usual . fee. With dreadful curses the infidel dog threw me on the fioor, and pressing a bottle of bitter liquid labelled "Fixing" to my lips, said he would give me "Fissik" if I did not "forkout fibob" — at least, so I understood him. The fear of this horrid threat of Fissik, who is doubtless some demon under his command, made me pay the five shillings, after which I descended the stairs saddened in spirit. The imp at the door demanded a fee, upon which I called him the son of a burnt father, and made him a long speech in the Turkish tongue. WAS PHOTOGRAPHED. 35 O Ali ! Friead of my soul ! The night wanes apace. Even as I write the sun tinges with, crimson and gold the light clouds of the East. The winds of heaven blow gently through my ' open wiadow, and I think of the time when I journeyed with thee on the road to Ispahan at the same silent hour. I like not the turmoil and noise of the busy city, and long for the time when we shall once more tread together the bowers of Al Kibar, and I shall again hear from thy learned lips the true doctrines of Islam. My mind is much disturbed by the invisible stars and comets which lurk aroxmd me, so on my return we will lay my crystal portrait before our wisest astrologers to learn what these mystic signs portend. Fare thee well, Ali ! Friend of my bosom ! Peace be unto thee and thine house ! Mayest thou live long in the land of our fathers; and, when thou art called to Paradise, mayest thou receive the richest fruits of the tree Juba, which produces pomegranates, grapes, and dates of a 36 HOW AL SHACABAC WAS PHOTOGEAPHED. taste -uiiknowii to mortals ! Fare thee well, O All ! and pray that thy friend may be protected from evil planetary influences, as well as the demon Pissik. Al Shacabac. THE LAY THE BROAD-BEIMMED HAT.* I LOVE it ! I love it ! my broad-brimmed hat, With its surface so smooth, and its crown so flat ; And often my memory wanders away To the thrice happy hours of my boyhood's young day, And I dream of the shop where I patiently sat. While grandmother purchased my broad-brimmed hat. * These verses have been set to music by Mrs. Weldon (of Tavistock House, Tavistock Square, London), who trained the celebrated "Gounod" Choir. 38 THE LAY OF THE BROAD-BRIMMED HAT. When the maids at a picnic get caught in the rain, It's shelter they seek, nor seek it in vain; And they say, as the water pours off round the brim, " Good gracious ! how much we're indebted to him — To the funny old man who owns this large tile, With his ' Yerily, yea ! ' and benevolent smUe ; With his sober-cut coat, and its lining of grey. Oh ! aitit he a darling 1 — aye, ' Verily, yea ! ' " Through the streets of the town I impressively walk. Of attraction the centre, of gossips the talk, And the little boys shout, "What a regular flat Is that funny old man in the broad-brimmed hat!" With my gingham umbrella their jackets I clout. And ask if their mothers are sure they are out; But the young rogues have always their answer quite pat — " Friend ! where didst thou purchase thy broad beaver hat?" THE LAY OP THE BEOAD-BRIMMED HAT. 39 When tie sorrows of life set in like a flood, And tlie nations are reeking with, warfare and blood, Its influence steals o'er my senses like rain — Assuaging my anguish, relieving my pain. Earth's troubles depart, its dramas grow dim. As I sink into slumber beneath the broad brim ; And my dear little brother, as well as the cat, Oft takes a night's rest in my broad-brimmed hat. The rocks may be rent and the sea become dry. And the moon disappear from its place in the sky ; The sun may grow dim — a mere dusky red ball — The empires of earth may totter and fall; The idle may grin, and the wicked may frown, The lowly despise, and the lofty look down. And small boys be saucy, and rude, and all that, Yet I'll love thee ! I'll love thee ! my broad- brimmed hat ! ST. BKIDE'S BAY. Lost in thought, oft I wander to scenes that are fading — .. To scenes where bright hope and high thoughts were entwined; And often in silence fond memory lingers O'er moments with bright recollections en- shrined : When aU joyous I gazed on the haven's bright waters, As sunset bedecked them with glories untold, When the cave and the headland, the cloud and the billow. Seemed robed in a mantle of crimson and gold— ST. bride's bay. 41 When on Druidstone sands in frolicsome gladness, We chased the short hours in that glorious light, Till the glare from the far Bishop's Lighthouse ■was streaming, And the pale stars above told the march of the night — When the moon shed her beams on the slumber- ing -waters, Which in purity mirrored her image beneath; When faintly the lights in. the far hamlets glim- mered. And the wiads murmured low o'er the brush- wood and heath — When the surge of the waves by the caverns re- echoed, Emitted a moan all weird-Kke and high. As the incoming waters in ripples were breaking. Or streamed o'er the rocks with a sorrowful sigh. 42 ST. bride's bat. Ye are dear to me ever, ye wild scenes of beauty, For life with its changes was happier then. Far away from the clamour and care of the city, The clang of the hammer and bustle of men. THE LAY THE MAEKET GARDENER; A ETGHTE MOURNFULLE STORIE. A SOBER man was William Jones, WLo ne'er was known to laugh; Tlie undertaker tried iu vain To get him on his staff Long at the market-gardening trade Had dismal William toUed, And seen his fondest hopes decay, His undertakings foiled. 44 THE LAY OF THE MARKET GAEDENEK. And no^w upon the tool-house steps, Like a young Cushat dove, He sat and sang the dismal tale Of unrequited love. "My mind in early youth was choked "With tares and poppies grim ; 'Twas disappointment sowed the seeds, And misery raked them in. "Ifes, sorrows rose to kill my joys. Like mushrooms in a night; The sunflower of my life is gone. My heart's-ease has the bHght. "I fondly loved sweet Susan Gibbs, A solemn lass, and sad; She wept so much that people thought Her melancholy mad. "As soon as I discerned her worth. In melancholy tones I urged my love with sobs and sighs. And she replied with groans. THE LAY OF THE MARKET GARDENER. 45 "While thus adown life's tearful scene So swimmingly we sailed, A tailor from a neighbouring town, My mourning suit curtailed. " Ah ! false and fair is Susan Gibbs, She lately has began To cut the tendrils of my heart — She loves the tailor man." Now at the Plough and Harrow's tap Jones daily drank and pined. So much her faithlessness did plough And harrow up his mind. Said he — " My love to you was like The needle to the Pole, Yet breaches come, and now you sew Great stitches in my soul. " Oh, cruel, cruel Susan Gibbs ! With these sharp garden shears I'll cut my thread of life in two, And quit this vale of tears." 46 THE LAT OF THE MARKET GAEDENEE. " Oh William, don't ! ot Billy, don't ! I'll constant prove and true.'' " What care I for your ' Billy don't,' Give me that billet doux." With fearful looks he read the scrawl; Susan recoiled with dread; They both sheered off the cellar stairs, And he sheared off his head. Now faithless lovers, warning take From William Jones's fate; Like Susan you may live to mourn. But mourn, alas, too late, t Remember jealousy has eyes As sharp as any fox, And turned poor Jones's little trunk Into a six-feet box. "FAST FALLS THE EVENTIDE." When the setting sun in splendour Slowly sinks from mortal sight, Crowns the earth with clouds of crimson, Robes the sea in living light — When the rainbow hues of sunset Fading from the hills are seen, And the night, with dusky mantle, Reigns our sable-shrouded queen. Calming earth with all its passions — Envy, hatred, fear, and love — And the pale white stars are throbbing, Throbbing in the heavens above — D 48 "FAST FALLS THE EVENTIDE." When earth's sister orb, ascending, Tints with light each hillock green, And the ferns, with dewdrops bending, Glisten in the silvery sheen. Then I feel how sin and sorrow Stain the earth by mortals trod. Par from man the troubled spirit Seeks its fellowship with God. OUE EAVEN. He was a malicious bird, and in him. all the evU propensities of his tribe appeared to be centred ; he seemed to be continually meditating mischief, and there was roguery in every look. He had been in our possession some days before we chris- tened him, there being a difficulty in finding a name bad enough to suit his deserts ; but one morning as we were considering the subject, and the advisability of calling him " Beelzebub," he was observed to listen with marked attention, with his head on one side, and a diabolical sparkle in his eye ; at last, to the surprise of all present, he pronotmced, in a deep, hoarse voice, the name " Roger." Where he learnt it was never satis- factorily ascertained, but Roger became his name from that hour to the day of his death. 50 OUE RAVEN. Tte maid-servants stood in bodily fear of him, and he knew it full well. Like most of Ms tribe, he was perfectly happy while trying the strength of his iron bill upon their ankles. He would also walk off with scraps of meat and mutton chops from before their eyes with the utmost gravity, knowing that they were afraid to molest him. On occasions of this kind there would be loud cries for " Bill," young buttons, who alone could man- age the formidable Roger. The bird would pay little attention to their cries, till he heard the footsteps of Bill in the passage, when he would suddenly lose all his magisterial dignity, and run and drop the stolen dainty before the nose of the sleeping and innocent cat, after which he would jump on the table and shriek "Bill!" with the loudest of them. Even in the coldest weather he thoroughly washed himself twice-a-day, till his beautifully glossy feathers shone again. After each bath, he usually mounted a sunny corner of the outhouse, and had a long talk to himself; here and there OUE BAVEN. 51 the words "Roger," "Bill," and " HuUoa," could be clearly distinguished, but the greater part of his recitation was unmeaning gabble. When hungry he would shout " Bill ! " at the top of his voice, till the red-haired individual in question made his appearance ; then in a deep, solemn voice h6 would say " Roger," thereby inti- mating that, upon whatever important avocation his young friend might at that moment be engaged, it was imperative that Roger's wants should have immediate attention. Every evening Ms eyes might be seen in the darkness, glaring down from the top of the kitchen cupboard, like those of an evil spirit, as he sat meditating dark and evil deeds for the morrow, like the raven of Barnaby Rudge. Science was not neglected by him; he was an enthusiastic floriculturist. If a flower took his fancy, he would pull it up by the roots, carry it to another part of the garden, make a hole in the mould with his beak, and replant it. This would not have mattered much, but sometimes with the S^ OUR KAVEN. insane desire, perhaps, of forming a bouquet for some lady raven of his acquaintance, he would pluck the flowers, and not being able to biad the stalks together, would strew them over the path- way. Conchology also had its share of attention ; for if a snail came in his way, he would divest it of its shell in the twinkling of an eye, and its unfortunate occupant would be gliding down Roger's throat before he could rightly tell what was the matter. Through Roger I nearly lost the friendship of a young doctor, whom I had known ever since his christening. The doctor lived next door, and was partial to grapes — in fact, he prided himself upon his skUl in growing them, and spent most of his leisure time in attending to a large vine at the back of the house. Early one fine morning Roger amused himself by nipping off the bunches one by one, and watching them fall on the ground below. The doctor saw the havoc that had been made, and was heaping maledictions upon the head of the depredator or depredators unknown, when a loud OUK EAVEN. 53 "Hulloa!" caused Hm to look up, and Koger let fall the last bunch, on his nose. For this freak he was given away to a gentle- man living half a mUe off; but a few days afterwards he came tumbling in at the door in an apparently tipsy state, exclaiming, " Hulloa ! Roger! hu-1-l-o-a !" It was a dark, wintry night when a tremendous crash and a cry of thieves, alarmed the whole house, and going to the window which overlooked the garden, I saw a large dark hole in the red-tUed roof of one of the outbuildings, through which the rascals doubtless expected to force an entry into the house. Bill opened the garden door, and cautiously climbed up to the hole ia the outhouse roof, when out popped Roger's head with a loud " Hulloa ! " which so frightened the boy, he lost his hold, and slid off the roof to the ground. Roger was whipped for that night's work, yet he amused himself next day by repeating the experiment. It was wonderful how he was able to move so heavy a body as a pantile, yet he did 54 OUR RAVEN. it, and as tie outliouse stood a fair chance of being unroofed by his pranks, he was sent away a long distance into the country. Like most mischievous people, he suffered for his tricks in the end. A ploughman was late one evening walking along the road near Roger's abode, and the raven began hopping and flying after him, shouting " Hulloa ! Bill!" Now, BUI happened to be the name of the individual in question, so he fled from the apparition in terror, with the ' demoniacal bird speeding at his heels, his dark proportions much increased in size, through the dim light of the dusk of the even- ing. The man, who firmly believed that a fiend was pursuing him, at last could run no longer, so turned round and frantically beat poor Roger to death with a thick stick. He then carried the body back in triumph to the village, looking upon his achievement as a praiseworthy act rather than otherwise. MATEEIALISTIC EELIGION. Materialism is flourishing at the present day, upsetting popular ideas by antiquity established, and reducing everything to mechanics and mathe- matics. Besides, it is about to put itself to the test of experiment. Who has not heard of the. furnaces, the great anvil, and the steam-hammer, about to be fitted up near Burlington House by the chief philosophers of the day, to forge a new religion by the proper manipulation of the right chemical substances 1 Indeed, the only difficulty is how to "hitch on" the mechanical religion to human consciousness and aspirations; but the, temporary absence of this trifling link need be no bar to the authoritative promulgation of the doctrine of "the present orphanage of man, and his future nonentity," or to the condemnation of 56 MATEEIALISTIC RELIGION. those opposed to it to the limbo of the tinintel- lectual. Let lis see what the scientific world knows about the "matter" which we are to fall down and worship. Until philosophers define what they mean by " matter," all arguments based upon a word to which several meanings are attached, are necessarily not clearly stated. The prevalent idea among physicists is, that matter consists of a vast number of almost infi- nitely small atoms in a state of incessant vibration. That these hypothetical atoms move is certain, because material bodies change their volume with every change of temperature. Make an iron poker hot, and it is longer than it was when cold. Hence, as the atoms in the extreme ends of a hot poker are Tneaswrahly farther from each other than they were when it was cold, it is cer- tain that they must have moved. It is supposed that each little atom vibrates to and fro, and that this vibration is what men call "heat." The greater the atomic vibration, the hotter is the MATERIALISTIC RELIGION. 57 substance, because the little atoms knock against the ends of the nerves in the hand ■vdth greater force, and the substance consequently feels warmer. If the temperature be lowered, the atoms swing over less space than before, consequently the poker contracts. If a sufficiency of heat be applied to the substajQce, the atoms swing so far apart that the force of cohesion is partially overcome, and the atoms roll over each other like so many marbles in a moving box. In this condition the substance is said to be " melted : " it is in the liquid state. Increase the heat, and the little atoms are so liberated that they fly to and fro, knocking against the sides of the vessel contain- ing them. This is known as the gaseous state of matter. The above hypothetical view of the nature of material bodies explains a vast number of physical facts, and is of great value in successful experi- mental physical research. It is the view held by most of the leading physical philosophers of the day. 00 MATERIALISTIC RELIGION. Those objectors who deny that solid substances consist of particles in a state of incessant motion, are at variance with the best men ia the philo- sophical world, and hold exceptional views about practical experiments connected with the expan- sion and contraction of solids. If, however, the hypothesis be admitted, then it is clear that to define what matter is, the materialist must define the nature of the little vibrating atoms. In fact, the whole question — "What is mat- ter 1" rests upon the question — " What is an elementary atom 1" Nobody has ever seen one of them. They are infinitely beyond the reach of the most powerful microscope, since millions upon millions of them are required to occupy the .space of a single cubic inch. There is the greatest difference of opinion in. the philosophical world as to the ultimate con- stitution of atoms, and herein lies the justification of my assertion, that the argument for materialism is based upon a word having a vague, uncertain MATERIALISTIC RELIGION. 59 Professor Tyndall thinks that, possibly, atoms are infinitely rigid little particles, something like minute bullets. Will he please explain how they buUd themselves up into living intelligent beings 1 If they do not so build themselves up, but flow to different positions around something invisible, ■what is that invisible something, and does it live ■when unclothed by matter ? Professor Sir WUliam Thomson once promul- gated the speculation, that atoms possibly consist of portions of an infinitely elastic fluid, thrown iato a state of vortex motion ; and Helmholtz has mathematically demonstrated that such motion, once set up, ■would continue to all eternity. By an " infinitely elastic fluid," is meant one destitute of viscosity, or fluid-friction — a fluid very similar in its nature to the interstellar ether.* If mate- * A clever experiment, designed by Sir Wm. Thomson and Professor Tait, to show the great permanency of fluid vortex rings, even when a fluid not destitute of friction is used, was once exhibited by the latter philosopher at Edin- burgh University. • A large square wooden box had one of its ends taken off, and a piece of thick cloth ■was tied over this end. In the opposite end of the box was a round hole, 60 MATERIALISTIC KELIGION. rialists believe solid substances to consist of vortex rings, ■wUl they explain how the said riags build themselves up into intelligent beings ? Not a few philosophers think that atoms con- sist of forces emanating from points, and points have neither length nor breadth. Is this the materialistic opinion ? If so, it assumes that there is no such thing as common matter at all, in the sense in which the word is ordinarily- used. Professor Huxley is inclined to think, with Bishop Berkeley, that our knowledge of the the size of a cheese-plate. The necks of two retorts en- tered one of the sides of the box ; the one retort was made to discharge hydrochloric acid gas into the box, whilst the other supplied ammoniacal gas. When these two gases mixed, white fumes were formed ; consequently, the box was continuously charged with dense white smoke. Every time the cloth at one end of the box was struck by the hand, a vortex ring of common air was forced out of the round hole opposite ; the said ring of air was made visible to the eye by the white smoke it held in suspension. These white rings floated about in the room for some little time before their viscosity caused them to break up. When- ever two of these smoke-rings struck each other as they floated about, they rebounded from each other as two india- rubber belts would have done. MATERIALISTIC RELIGION. 61 external world depends on the nature of our sensa- tions, and the way in which those sensations act upon our consciousness. He says that if he were compelled to choose between pure idealism and pure materialism, he should select the former. As it is a fact that the best philosophers of the day do not know what matter is, and are divided in opinion as to its nature, there is just cause for complaint, that anybody should use the word " matter " in the fundamental part of an argument against any religious ideas which exercise a bene- iicial moral influence upon society. There are people who think that there is no such thing as common matter, and that the external world is the result of mental conditions governed by law. THE LAY PHOTOGRAPHER. A SCIENTIFIC BALLAD. [In the following poem the various mampulations incidental to the preparation of what are known to photographers as "dry plates," are allegorieally de- scribed. Dry plates are much used in the photographing of landscapes.] The American YouNG Pyroxyline has come out of the west, Origin of Pyroxyline. Where he lived with dark niggers, not very much All regardless of safety he plunged in the brine, To keep watch and ward o'er the fair Iodine. THE LAY OP THE PHOTOGRAPHER. 63 Bright, bright was his armour and gleaming his The Meeting of Pyroxyline and face, Iodine. As he seized his fair prize with a loving em- brace. " Oh, Roxy ! Ha, dun now ! You've broken my fan! I'll tell papa Tyndall, you naughty young man !" The truth must come out, though it grieves me full iodine cuts off the luminous sore, rays, hut allows the ultrarred to She for Tyndall, her parent, told fibs at the v^^- door; To the ultrar-red rays she said-^" Come in and roam ! " But to those with bright colours said — " Pa's not at home !" This demoralised maid, thus traiaed in deceit, iodine enters into union A rich store of sUver resolved to escheat. ^"^ ^'i™''- " I like not old Mtre,'' she sulkily said, " But his silver galore — it is that I will wed." E 64 THE LAY OF THE PHOTOGEAPHER. Iodide of suver Poor Pyroxyline turned yello-w with, rage, oatisea Pyroxy- line to turn To see them united at that early stage.* yellow. His spirits departed, he grew pale and thin, TUl the dear little man became nothing but skin. The Nitric Acid j^^ ^^^ oj^ j^itre soon gave up the ghost, is driven off, ° r & ' and the Iodide cw'ijich was hunted by Crookes from pUlar to of Silver is ^ J r And boys cleared their windpipes and shouted " Hooray ! " Whilst the station was filled with a glittering throng, To welcome the hero, the theme of my song. Oh firm was the step of bold General Grant, With his hat, as the Yankees say, "full on the slant ;" "Yankee Doodle" he whistled while marching along. Did this greatest of heroes, so stout and so strong. THE WELCOME TO GENERAL GEANT. 127 The Mayor in his robes looked most scrumptiously fine, And his Aldermen three -were drawn up in a line — Messrs. Hoad, Banks, and Caister, were all of them there, And the Town Sergeant also to wait on the Mayor. AH lively as grasshoppers fresh from the Lees, They said to the General — " Sir, if you please. Our Clerk will now read you a friendly address — " " Si-lenoe ! " roared the Sergeant, on " Si " putting stress. " With very great pleasure," the General said, " Will I hear that 'ere dockyment properly read ; But the steamer's a-waiting, so pray, sirs, be quick;" And he sat down good-humouredly whittling a stick. Then the Mayor and the Aldermen opened the roll. Which the Clerk read aloud with much feeling and soul. 128 THE WOBBLE JAW BALLADS. Until tears began flowing from every eye, And his pathos elicited many a sigh. " We, the Worshipful the Mayor, We, the Aldermen and Burgesses Of most ancient Folkestone's town. Deeply and sincerely urgesses Your striking individual merit. Your undisputed capabilities ; So welcome you on this here pier. Which at the bottom of the hiU it is." Here the Clerk paused for breath, and benignly looked round. Whilst from those withia earshot there came not a sound, Then beginning again the Clerk waved his hand, And continued in accents impressive and grand — " Our two all-fired important nations. Please give us aid in well cementing ; But just remember. Mister Grant, This land of freedom never went in For living mermaids made by Bamum, Wooden nutmegs, brandy cocktails, Woolly horses, and those marvels Which of Yankees form the stock tales." Here a chuckle and giggle from Alderman Banks Made the Mayor look severe at a man on his flanks. THB WELCOME TO GENERAL GRANT. 129 Till he saw tte real culprit was one of his clan, When he smiled, though he wished him at far Teheran. " We hope your son will grow in wisdom, Will imitate his worthy father, Will whip creation with his cuteness, And outshine you, sir — don't we rather ! Given under our Corporate Seal, (With wax from Eiley's) in the Town Hall, Signed: — A. Wobblejaws, J. Sherwood, And W. Harrison, to crown all. " Then said General Grant with the sweetest of smiles — " I have travelled, my friends, some few thousands of miles, But never expected a welcome like this ; I feel, 'pon my soul, in the regions of bliss. "When nations like ours are conjoined hand in hand. Our strength so united no power can withstand ; We can trample out wars, bid disturbances cease. And establish afar the pure empire of peace. 130 THE WOBBLE JAW BALLADS. " Your municipal government seemeth. to me A very strong brancli in your liberty's tree, So, Hurrah ! ye brave Britons, -who ne'er will be slaves ! And who live on roast beef from your birth to your graves. " And now Mr. Mayor, I must bid you farewell, With gratitude greater than mortal can teU ; And to you Mr. Hoad, also you Mr. Banks, Mr. Caister likewise, do I tender my thanks." Then cheers from the people, and tunes from the band. Reached the steamship "Victoria" far from the land; And Sir Edward Watkin atop of the pier. Cried " Ochone! he is leaving us! Bless me! oh dear ! " Anthony Wobblejaws. THE WOBBLEJAW BALLADS. No. III. To the EddJvtor of the "Folkestone News." Me. Edditok, Did yott know that jeenyus cums down from father to sun? Tony sez that other things cum down in the same way, and that our minds stamp their marks upon our boddies, and the minds and boddies of them that cum after us. He sez, sum yung peeple have diseeses and deformitys, cos of the lies their par rents told in trade and elseware. Here's wot Tony's father rit and printed sum yeers ago. Truly yures, Sarah Wobblejaw. 132 THE WOBBLKJAW BALLADS. THE EIFLE OOEPS. Mr. Edditor — Sir, — Our invinsible rifles, Who fight like cook bantams, and stick not at trifles, Came over this way, sir, a few days ago, A marchin' like fiddlers, sir, all of a row. Then the noise that they made, it was awful! dear ! All the farmer fokes rownd was a dyin' with fear. Of the frite which they caused, the akkount which I send, Was written in Lundun, dear sir, by a frend. I have no more to say, and no longer wiU trubble you. And am yures very truly, Theophilus "W. " Whoi, Joe, my lad, who be these men. All dressed so 'nation grand? For zartin 'tis as voine a sight As any in the land. THE EIFLE COEPS. 133 I've locked my Zairey up, d'ye see, Else arter 'em she'd run. For -when she sees red coats she's off. Just loike a loaded gun." " Whoi lawks," said Joe, "and doan't 'ee know? They're Yeather-beds from town. With their Capten marchin' at their head — Him with the whiskers brown. They're going to the park to vight, And kill each other there, Though now they look so friendly too — 'Tis true, I do declare ! And those who're left will zack the place, , And carry off our woives, And take away our virniture. And maybe end our loives !" " Well, Joe lad, this be zorry news. We must defend our homes, And try and give them roiful chaps A toaste of broaken boans : 134 THE WOBBLEJAW BALLADS. Zo we -will drop in at the "Bull," And lest our pluck should vail, "We'll keep it up -with many a sup Of brother Joiles's ya-ale." * * These three verses were written by a friend of the author of " The Lazy Lays. " THE WOBBLEJAW BALLADS. No. lY. To the Edditor of the "Folkestone News." Me. Edditok, Tte plot is a thikkening. Mr. James Jones have brought me, and the ballads, and Tony, publikly under the notis of the Mare and copper- ashun in conclave, at their last meetin, and every face was pale at the gravity of the okkashun, and to-day I see our Town Crier a sittin on his door step, and pollishin up of his bell with a bit of lather and a old gluv. " 0," ses he, " Mrs. Wobblejaws, marm, you've caught me." "Which?" ses I, as grand as the Empress of Inja, for aint I Tony's mother 1 "Well," he replide, "Jones have introdoosed you and yure most exient sun — tell him I sed ' exient' — ^to our Counsle and Copperashun, which meens warm work for all publik servents, for all 136 THE WOBBLEJAW BALLADS. them as feel the cares of pomp and state," ses he, sighinj "so I've bought a noo umbrella and a noo pare of shoes, and now I'm a pollishin up of my bell with brickdust from Spinks's," ses he. "Wornt Jones wild?" ses I, larfin, "but he's a good man, is Jones j he's one as is respektid by me, and the Town Clerk, and Tony, and all Folkestone." " I shood think he is," sad the Crier. " Why," sed he, starin thru a cloud as was in the sky, and with a solem fur-away look as if he cood see the end of evverything, " Tre knowd Jones, on and off, man and boy, sixty-seven years cum next Mikklemuss, and there aint nobody, ne'er a one on em, as can say that agen him," ses he, a snap- pin of his fingers, and stretching out one leg," and aksdently upsettia a little boy with milk cans. "Verry tru, verry tru," ses I, pikkin up the little boy wrong end uppermost in the excitement of my feelings. "Adoo / Or revawr !" sed the Town Crier, and we parted. Wats to be dun with my sun Tony 1 He have THE WOBBLE JAW BALLADS. 137 fallen in. luv with Rose Tomkinson, as is tlie art- fullest creetur in Folkestone. 0, she's deep, she is. She gits people to like her, by newer sayin nothing aggenst noboddy ; she newer jines La our little talks abbout our nabers, or helps to put down them as oght to be put down. Tony's sister trys to pick quarrels with her, and I'm skarsely siwle to her when Tony's out of the room. Ugh ! The apricot ! "Tony," ses I, "yure a disgrasing of us"j me and yure father intended you for Sophy WUkinS; as would make us the best peeple in our chappie, and would drive the Whiffens so ravin jellus that they would newer sit easy agen at prares ia tteir 13ue on Sundays, and wood newer forgive us to their dyin day." " Tony," ses his sister, burstin out cryin, " you'U be the ruin of us all, and I shant get engaged as lady's made to the rectoress thru the iofluens of Sophy "WUkins." Heer Tony's little bruther, who didnt understan wot was said, begun to cry too. 138 THE WOBBLEJAW BALLADS. "Tony,"' sed Miss Spriggs, his atmt, "I tliink all luv makkin is wikked and sinfle, and yure parents is too good to you in lettin you think even of Sophy Wilkins. Ware do you expect to go to when you die?" "Tony," ses his father, "I'm greeved, deeply greeved. Yure a proddigle sun, sir ; yure a flying in the face of provvidence, and bringiti. of the gray hares of yure parents in sorrer to the grave. " " Stop there," I sed, " I havvent got eny gray hares." " Considerin," ses he — not heedin — " considerin the influens of deacon Erasmus Wilkins in our chappie, considerin the aid he mite hev been to me in bisniss, I look upon you as a proffigit, and hope you'll read all about Annienias and Saffira before you go to bed to-nite, and that yure heart -will be sofened. I would have you think," ses he, wavin his hand ellerquent, " I would have you think of the futur of them disobedyent chil- dren as is predestined to perdishun. Befor we THE WOBBLE JAW BALLADS. 139 go to bed to-nite we will aU sing the improving hym:— 'Mid seas of never-ending flames, Where vengeance dire in thunder rolls, And darts to inflict immortal pains, Poison the blood of daumfed souls." Heer I cried with joy, and thot I was in hewen. Our minnister newer spuk better than did Tony's father that nite. "I have newer had so much trubble," ses he, " since the day them three twins come ; the other two of em never disgrased me, but you Tony " here he berried his eyes in his hankerchef. Then Tony got up, verry red, and sed, " I dent want to be misrespectful, father, but I bleeve yure all carin more abbout yurselves than about me, an I think more people is married by their familys than of there own akkord." " Well, and what would bekum of the Diverse Court, and your Unkel John's bisness as a lawyer, if it wasn't so?'' ses I. " Anyhow,'' repKde Tony, " I dont like this byin and sellLn of human creeturs, and I think 140 THE WOBBLE JAW BALLADS. its despritly wikked for awl father and you say, and I hope Miss WUkins will be at the bottom of the well in Seagate Street, before Harvey an- nelieses it again. " And he went out. Heer's trubble ! Heer's trubble ! And now, Mr. Edditor, there's a look in his eye as I dent Kke, and my mind misgives me that he wont give in. He has all his mothers determi- nashun, but in him its obstinisy, for he wont give in when he's rong, and I never give in, be- cause I'm always rite, and thats the differens between us. I'm sorry he have not dun enny verses for you this week about the luvly skanddles that hev bin brought to him, but next week let them as thinks their private affares isnt known to noboddy look out. Yures in trubble, Sarah Wobblejaws. Tony's lament. 141 TONY'S LAMENT. Dear Sir, My mother has sent you nothing from me this week. There have been troubles in our house too sacred for the public ear, so I cannot let you know the subject or any of the parti- culars. Perhaps, however, the few lines which foUow may be acceptable : — As the Earth with its maddened cargo On the path of the ages rolls, And cries of sorrow and anguish Pour sadly from human souls, One wonders why it was created, 'Neath the shade of a mystical ban. Why the Councils of God and the angels Should result in the making of man. But vain are the throbbings of sorrow. And vain is the weakness of tears. When man should be up and be doing Dismayed not by shadowy fears. 142 THE WOBBLEJAW BALLADS. So as soon as this fit has passed over. And joy has abolished "the blues," Your Tony, as faithful as ever, Will send some more lines to the News. Anthony Wobblejaws. THE WOBBLEJAW BALLADS. No. Y. To the Edditor of the " Folkestone News," Dear Sir, Tony sez he is miserable at home ; he goes about on the hills, stickin' beetles, flise, and sichKke, •with pins. He takes them to Mr. Fitzgerald at the Museum ; he is a grate frend of Tony's, and always speeks well of him. Tony is keeping Jiily Bugs shut up ia a glass hive for to studdy them. Tony's father likes this experriment ; he sez that, now there in a hive, p'raps they will lem to make hunny, and be more proffitible than bees, because there bigger, and we shall all make our fortunes. I send you his last verses. Truly yures, Sarah Wobblejaws. K 144 THE WOBBLE JAW BALLADS. THE JULY BUG. On yester eve I trod the hills Ahove the Dover Road, While sunset tinted hill and sea, And fast the tide outflowed. But darkness hurtled in the air, A cloud approached amain ; It was not fog, it was ~ not smoke. And much too low for rain. And nearer, nearer stiU it came, Brown as my railway rug; " Can, can it be ?" I wildly said — " Yes ! 'Tis the July Bug." As big as beetles were the things, They gave a nasty hum. They whirled in myriads round my head, " Yet still," said I, " they come." THE JULY BUG. 145 They crawled adown my graceful neck, They twisted in my hair, Ran up my sleeve, crawled down my boots. But found no solace there. One crashed against my Grecian nose. And fell with sullen roar; Another fat one on my lips Would fain my mouth explore. A July Bug in evening flight, Nor reason shows nor rule ; He knocks his head 'gaiast every post — In short he is a fool ; So I dislike the July Bug, Just as the women state They do not mind an ugly man, But a bom fool they hate. Last night in dreams I saw a Bug With maUfed head-gear crowned, I'm sure he measured eight feet long. And nearly seven feet round. 146 THE WOBBLEJAW BALLADS. And in the doorway he reclined Of Mr. Goodliffe's shop ; He jumped and shouted from behind, And pushed him -with a mop. The Crier stood by his right ear, Making a hideous diu ; His biggest bell he jerked with force, And drove the music in, Whilst Mr. Wilshere and two men Pulled at his third left leg; He troubled not — that stolid Bug — " It's all in vain," he said. Some handcuffs Mr. Wilshere then Produced amid much chaff; Even the blockhead of a Bug Could not forbear a laugh. Flat irons lent by Mr Poole Were next thrown at the Bug, And somewhat marred his calm repose ; They made him shake and shrug. THE JULY BUG. 147 Said Mr. Poole — " I witnessed how He twisted, as he fell, The chimney-pot askew upon The Rendezvous Hotel."* "Oh! That explains it!" Hogben said, " I heard a curious creak, And thought rheumatic Moggs's knees Were extra bad this week." They from the Harbour Station fetched An old horse full of game, Who " makes up" trains when left alone, And " Jemmy" is his name. A rope was tied around the necks Of Jemmy and the Bug, And crowds in High Street watched them pass. With many a pull and tug. * An examination of the chimney-pot will prove to anybody the truth of my vision. — A. W. 148 THE WOBBLE JAW BALLADS. Near Griffith's shop they strained the rope And nearly broke their necks, Because the Bug would stop to read The bill about blank cheques. At last within a slight machine, For bathing on the beach. The Bug was caged by Jemmy's aid. So go not, I beseech You, into that machine to-day, But listen at the door. And if the Bug is in it still. You'll hear his gentle snore. Hark ! Do you hear the Boulogne boat ? Or is it yonder tug 1 Is it a talking telephone? No. 'Tis the July Bug. Long live the Queen ! Long Hve the Mayor ! Long live Spearpoint also, And when another Bug is trapped Be sure I'll let you know. Anthony Wobblejaws. THE WOBBLEJAW BALLADS. No. VL To the Edditor of the "Folkestone News." Dear Sik, Tony is bringing his ballads to a close for the present. Everyboddy wants to know what he ■will rite about when he takes up his pen again. He has plenty of subjiks ia hand, as fellers: — How a milingtery ossifer fired at a targit, and hit a heel-pie man in Sandgate. How Alderman Caister seed a ghost. What the stashun master aed to his men, and what the men sed to the stashun master. Miss E-osylinder Smith and the curate. The luvs of the Mares of Folkestone, which Tony ses is an anshent and ossifide subjik. Alderman Banks on the pollushun of rivers. How a sharp blade and a speer poiut, was found in the mail bags con- 150 THE WOBBLE JAW BALLADS. triry to regulations. We want more and let them as nose them, rite all abbout them to the Mare, for Tony, but good bye to all frends for a time. Truly yures, Sarah Wobblejaws. THE CONVEETED CAEMAN. Dear Sir, At the Wesleyan Home Mission meeting last week, under the presidency of Mr. Fagg, the Eev. W. D. Walters made a statement, which I took down at the time, that a workman in Mr. Spurgeon's flock was suddenly moved to speak to a carman in the street about his soul; the man swore at him, but finally was induced to go to the Tabernacle, which he afterwards said he would never enter again. The next time the carman saw Mr. Spurgeon's follower in the THE CONVERTED CAEMAN. 151 street lie took to his heels, but was pursued, caught, induced to go to the Tabernacle again, and was, with his wife, converted, and is now a useful member of the chvirch, I have filled in the details of this story from imagination, thus: — In one of Folkestone's chapels. On the fifth day of July, Eighteen-hundred-and-seventy-seven, With mouth agape sat I. And Mister Walters told his tale. Whilst deacons aU-a^row, In nicely studied attitudes. Smiled on their flock below. The preacher's hair was curly black. His face was rosy red. And rosier, ruddier stUl it grew. As thus he sung or said: — 152 THE WOBBLEJAW BALLADS. "In the bright sun on London Bridge A pale-faced workman stood, Who groaned, and upwards rolled his eyes, He was so very good. "And that same bilious carpenter A carman rude espied, Who cracked his whip and cried, 'Ya-hip!' So after him he hied. " His shiny cap had one great peak Just half-way down his back. And for an apron this pure child Of nature wore a sack. " His trowsers, made of corduroy. Were tied below the knee. As is the custom of his class. Most beautiful to see. " His blouse of canvas fluttered free, He bore his heavy whip Beneath his arm, did this rude man — The man who yeUed 'Yarhip!' THE CONVERTED CARMAN. 153 " Now, had that man. read Coleridge He would have cried, d'ye see^ ' I prithee, ancient carpenter, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me J' "But, 'You get out!' was all he said, And snapped amain his whip. Then set his legs a^swing again. And once more cried, 'Ya-hip!' "'Oh, go not thus!' said Spurgeon's child, 'But listen unto me, Here is a ticket, blue and red, For our next weekly tea.' " ' Your tea be blowed,' said that rough man. With look of strange surprise. And added sundry bad remarks About his limbs and eyes. " ' I will not let thee say me nay,' The carpenter replied; Then both his eyes that carman rubbed, And opened very wide. 154 THE WOBBLE JAW BALLADS. "For had the stranger punched his head, Or sworn an oath or two, The carman would have been at home, Nor puzzled what to do. "So lest his brains should be fatigued In solving this hard knot, He took the ticket, went to tea, And found it strong and hot. " And deaconesses spoke him fair. And so did Spurgeon too; They were so very nice all round. He felt in quite a stew. "That night he passed ia fitful dreams. Brought on by hymns and tea; His simple brains were so upset. All in a whirl was he. "When next he saw the carpenter Close by his waggon's wheels. That sturdy carman dropped his whip, And took unto his heels. THE CONVERTED CABMAN. 155 " But the good carpenter gave chase, Joined by a crowd of boys, And once more into thraldom led The man in corduroys. "He brought him back to Spurgeon's flock, And with him came his wife; And that bluiGF man reformed his ways, And led a better life. "In the great Tabernacle's hall They oft stand side by side — The carpenter and carman both — To Spurgeon's joy and pride. "And oft he tells his listening flock How censures leave a smart. But kind words go like arrows home To every human heart." The moral Walters drew from this. All in a nutshell lies — " Tou can reclaim yowr hrother ma/n, So go and do likewise." 156 THE WOBBLEJAW BALLADS. Some teartickets I straightway bought, And though Spearpoint* may rail, To-night I'll stop and clean convert The man who drives the mail. Anthony Wobblbjaws. * The Folkestone Postmaster. THE END. V '. V "^ J- •!