M2fe 
 

i 
 
 j^^iAy^z 
 
 Lays 
 
 •h •^ 
 
 OF THE 
 
 -f •^ 
 
 People. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN F. NICHOLLS. 
 
 PRICE ONE SHILLING. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 BURT & SONS, 58, PORCHESTER ROAD, 
 r BAYSWATER, W. 
 
 18S5. 
 
 S^^- 
 
 A*:*;, 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this bool< 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/cu31924013529676 
 
LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
LAYS 
 
 THE PEOPLE. 
 
 (Chiefly from the " People.") 
 
 JOHN F. NICHOLLS. 
 
 LONDON ; 
 
 BURT & SONS, 58, PORCHESTER ROAD, 
 BAYSWATER, W. 
 
 188S. 
 
To MY WIFE 
 
 / dedicate all that is good in this my first bookt 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 tommy's prayer 
 
 A pauper's revenge 
 
 CRIPPLED FOR LIFE . 
 A broker's DEVICE . 
 A NEGLECTED HERO . 
 cabby's ADVENTURE . 
 A NOBLE COSTER 
 A mother's DARING . 
 BROUGHT BACK . 
 A clerk's RUSE 
 
 the little fireman 
 bob's medal 
 
 A watchman's STORY 
 
 LOST AND FOUND 
 
 A BRAVE WOMAN 
 
 AN idiot's GALLANTRY 
 
 HUNTING A MADMAN . 
 
 AT THE WORKHOUSE GATE 
 
 THE VICTORIA CROSS. 
 
 A mother's CRY 
 
 THE MODERN SCHOOLBOY 
 
 HOPE ON ! . 
 
LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 TOMMY'S PRAYER. 
 
 JN a dark and dismal alley where the sunshine 
 never came. 
 Dwelt a little lad named Tommy, sickly, 
 delicate, and lame : 
 He had never yet been healthy, but had lain since he was 
 
 born 
 Drag-gfing out his weak existence well nigfh hopeless and 
 forlorn. 
 
 He was six, was little Tommy, 'twas just five years ago 
 Since his drunken mother dropped him, and the babe was 
 crippled so. 
 
LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 He had never known the comfort of a mother's tender care, 
 But her cruel blows and curses made his pain still worse to 
 bear. 
 
 There he lay within the cellar, from the morning till the 
 
 nig-ht, 
 Starved, neglected, cursed, ill-treated, nought to make his 
 
 dull life bright ; 
 Not a single friend to love him, not a living thing to love — 
 For he knew not of a Saviour, or a heaven up above. 
 
 'Twas a quiet, summer evening, and the alley too was 
 
 still. 
 Tommy's little heart was sinking, and he felt so 
 
 lonely, till 
 Floating up the quiet alley, wafted inwards from the 
 
 street, 
 Came the sound of some one singing, sounding, oh ! soiclear 
 
 and sweet. 
 
 Eagerly did Tommy listen as the singing nearer 
 
 came — 
 Oh ! that he could see the singer ! How he wished he 
 
 wasn't lame, 
 Then he called and shouted loudly, till the singer heard 
 
 the sound, 
 And on noting whence it issued, soon the little cripple 
 
 found. 
 
TOMMY'S PRAYER. 
 
 'Twas a maiden rough and rugged, hair unkempt, and 
 
 naked feet, 
 All her garments torn and ragged, her appearance far 
 
 from neat — 
 " So yer called me," said the maiden, " wonder wot yer 
 
 wants o' me ; " 
 " Most folks call me Singing Jessie ; wot may your name 
 
 chance to be ? " 
 
 "My name's Tommy ; I'm a cripple, and I want to hear 
 
 you sing. 
 For it makes me feel so happy — Sing me something, 
 
 anything." 
 Jessie laughed, and answered smiling ' I can't stay here 
 
 very long, 
 But I'll sing a hymn to please you, wot I calls the ' Glory 
 
 Song.' " 
 
 Then she sang to him of heaven, pearly gates, and streets 
 
 of gold, 
 Where the happy angel children are not starved or 
 
 nipped with cold ; 
 But where happiness and gladness never can decrease or 
 
 end, 
 And where kind and loving Jesus is their Sovereign and 
 
 their Friend. 
 
LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 Oh I how Tommy's eyes did glisten as he drank in every 
 
 word 
 As it fell from " Singing- Jessie " — was it true, what he 
 
 had heard ? 
 And so anxiously he asked her ; " Is there really such a 
 
 place ? " 
 And a tear began to trickle down his pallid little face. 
 
 " Tommy, you're a little heathen ! Why, its up beyond 
 
 the sky, 
 And if yer will love the Saviour, yer shall go there when 
 
 yer die." 
 " Then," said Tommy ; " tell me, Jessie, how can I the 
 
 Saviour love, 
 When I'm down in this 'ere cellar, and He's up in heaven 
 
 abo»fe ? " 
 
 So the little ragged maiden who had heard at Sunday 
 
 School, 
 All about the way to heaven, and the Christian's golden 
 
 rule, 
 Taught the little cripple Tommy how to love, and how to 
 
 pray, 
 Then she sang a " Song of Jesus," kissed his cheek and 
 
 went away. 
 
TOMMY'S PRAYER. 
 
 Tommy lay within the cellar which had grown so dark and 
 
 cold, 
 Thinking all about the children in the streets of shining 
 
 gold; 
 And he heeded not the darkness of that damp and chilly 
 
 room, 
 For the joy in Tommy's bosom could disperse the deepest 
 
 gloom. 
 
 "Oh! if I could only see it," thought the cripple, as 
 
 he lay, 
 Jessie said that Jesus listens and I think I'll try and 
 
 pray; 
 So he put his hands together, and he closed his little 
 
 eyes, 
 And in accents weak^ yet earnest, sent this message to the 
 
 skies : — 
 
 " Gentle Jesus, please forgive me as I didn't know 
 
 afore. 
 That yer cared for little cripples who is weak and very 
 
 poor, 
 And I never heard of heaven till that Jessie came 
 
 to-day 
 And told me all about it, so I wants to try and pray. 
 
LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 "Yer can see me, can't yer, Jesus? Jessie told me that 
 
 yer could, 
 And I somehow must believe it, for it seems so prime and 
 
 good; 
 And she told me if I loved you, I should see yer when 
 
 I die, 
 In the bright and happy heaven that is up beyond the 
 
 sky. 
 
 " Lord, I'm only just a cripple, and I'm no use here 
 
 below, 
 For I heard my mother whisper, she'd be glad if I could 
 
 g-o; 
 And I'm cold and hungry sometimes ; and I feel so lonely 
 
 too — 
 Can't yer take me, gentle Jesus, up to heaven along 
 
 o' you ? 
 
 " Oh ! I'd be so good and patient, and I'd never cry 
 
 or fret. 
 And your kindness to me, Jesus^ I would surely not 
 
 forget ; 
 I would love you all I know of, and would never make a 
 
 noise — 
 Can't you find me just a corner, where I'll watch the other 
 
 boys? 
 
TOMMY'S PRAYER. 
 
 "Oh ! I think yer'll do it, Jesus, something- seems to tell 
 
 me so, 
 For I feel so glad and happy, and I do so want to go, 
 How I long to see yer Jesus ! and the children all so 
 
 bright. 
 Come and fetch me, won't yer, Jesus ? Come and fetch 
 
 me home to-night ! " 
 
 Tommy ceased his supplication, he had told his soul's 
 
 desire. 
 And he waited for the answer till his head began to 
 
 tire : 
 Then he turned towards his corner and lay huddled in a 
 
 heap 
 Closed his little eyes so gently, and was quickly fast 
 
 asleep. 
 
 Oh ! I wish that every scoffer could have seen that 
 
 Tommy's face, 
 As he lay there in the corner, in that damp and noisome 
 
 place ; 
 For his countenance was shining like an angel's, fair and 
 
 bright, 
 And it seemed to fill the cellar with a holy heavenly 
 
 light. 
 
LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 He had only heard of Jesus, from a ragged singing- 
 
 girl, 
 He might well have wondered, pondered, till his brain 
 
 began to whirl ; 
 But he took it as she told it, and believed it then and 
 
 there, 
 Simply trusting in the Saviour, and His kind and tender 
 
 care. 
 
 In the morning, when the mother came to wake her 
 
 crippled boy 
 She discovered that his features wore a look of sweetest 
 
 joy, 
 
 And she shook him somewhat roughly, but the cripple's 
 
 face was cold — 
 He had gone to join the children in the streets of shining 
 
 gold. 
 
 Tommy's prayer had soon been answered, and the Angel 
 
 Death had come 
 To remove him from his cellar, to his bright and heavenly 
 
 home 
 Where sweet comfort, joy, and gladness, never can 
 
 decrease or end. 
 And where Jesus reigns eternally, his Sovereign and his 
 
 Friend. 
 
A- PAUPER'S REVENGE. 
 
 §NE moment, oh, stay one moment, and give me a 
 coin for bread. 
 You're the first I've ever asked, sir, for 
 beg-ging's a thing I dread ; 
 But I only left the workhouse a few short hours ago. 
 And I hav'n't a friend to help me — for God's sake, don't 
 say ' No.' 
 
 I know that I'm presuming, but I'm suffering want and 
 
 pain, 
 And I'll never ask the Guardians to take me back 
 
 again — • 
 'The same old story !' Nay, sir ; my story is fresh and true, 
 Will you linger just a moment while I tell my tale 
 
 to you ? 
 
LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 Five long-, long years ago, sir, I was happy and 
 
 well-to-do, 
 Not a thin and wasted creature, but as tall and strong as 
 
 you; 
 With a wife as fair as sunlight, and a home like heaven 
 
 below ; 
 While, better than these, my name, sir, was pure as the 
 
 glistening snow. 
 
 I'd worked my business well, sir, then, thinking 'twould be 
 for the best, 
 
 I took in a working partner, intending to take some 
 rest, 
 
 And I did, till I found the money was melting fast 
 away. 
 
 When I searched the books and found, sir, that the busi- 
 ness had gone astray. 
 
 That partner of mine soon vanished with all the available 
 
 cash ; 
 He had ruined the firm in bills, sir, and naught could avert 
 
 a smash : 
 Twas a blow that simply crushed me ; my ruin was 
 
 so complete. 
 That within a month from then, sir, we had scarcely food 
 
 to eat. 
 
A PAUPER'S REVENGE. 
 
 Ah ! many a time I've cursed him, the villain who spoiled 
 
 my life, 
 I prayed for vengeance once, sir, as I stood by my poor 
 
 dead wife, 
 For he, and he only, caused me the whole of my awful 
 
 woe, 
 And I prayed that God's wrath would follow wherever 
 
 the wretch should go. 
 
 Alone in the world, I glided down, down in the social 
 
 scale ; 
 Unable to find employment, my courage began to fail. 
 And weary of life and its burden, impelled by the hand of 
 
 Fate, 
 I flew to my only shelter inside of the workhouse gate. 
 
 Why did I leave it ? I'll tell you. The reason is strange 
 
 though true. 
 I hope you'll not think I am trying to hatch up a story for 
 
 you, 
 And pray do not think for a moment, I'm wanting to brag 
 
 of my acts, 
 I'll tell you the tale quite simply, confining it strictly to 
 
 facts. 
 
LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 'Twas only to-day it happened, thoug-h it seems a ntionth 
 
 ago, 
 I was just outside of the gate, sir, a-sweeping away the 
 
 snow, 
 When a tattered, shivering stranger, with an air of fallen 
 
 pride. 
 Came up and asked me softly : ' Was there room for him 
 
 inside ? ' 
 
 I started, and eyed the speaker, for I thought that voice 
 
 I knew, 
 And he seemed to quail before me as I looked him 
 
 through and through ; 
 'Twas a mutual recognition, and there for a minute's 
 
 space 
 We two old City partners, stood silently face to 
 
 face. 
 
 My blood grew hot, and I shouted, as I clutched and held 
 
 him fast : 
 ' You villain ! till now you've 'scaped me, but my time ha 
 
 come at last, 
 I've a few old scores to settle before I can let you 
 
 go! 
 And with that I raised my fist, sir, to strike him a crushing 
 
 blow. 
 
A PAUPER'S REVENGE. 13 
 
 But just as the blow was falling, I fancied that I could 
 
 trace 
 A mute appeal for mercy in his thin and careworn 
 
 face, 
 And my blow went wide and harmless, for, bad as he once 
 
 had been, 
 I couldn't resist his glances, whatever the man might 
 
 mean. 
 
 With an effort, I curbed my temper, and instantly let him 
 
 When he fell right down before me, on his knees inthe 
 
 pure-white snow, 
 And he sobbed : " I crave forgiveness, the way has been 
 
 sharp and rough ; 
 ' For God's sake spare your anger, my punishment's hard 
 
 enough ! " 
 
 'Twas a struggle, but I forgave him, and showed him the 
 
 the way inside, 
 Though I knew he couldn't stay there, however much he 
 
 tried. 
 The wards were full, they told him, there wasn't a vacant 
 
 place, 
 And it went to my heart, that look, sir, on his pale and 
 
 shrunken face. 
 
14 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 Then straight from the spot [ darted, right into the Master's 
 
 room, 
 Took my discharge and went, sir, away from the place of 
 
 gloom, 
 Into a gloomier, maybe. You say, 'twas a foolish 
 
 whim ! 
 Nay, sir, I left that workhouse to give up my place to 
 
 him. 
 
 That's all the revenge I've had, sii*, a poor one you think, 
 
 no doubt ; 
 But I hope I shall never regret, sir, the morning that I came 
 
 out. 
 Even now, I am proudly conscious that I did what I 
 
 thought was right — 
 I thank you, kind sir ! God bless you ! A happy new year ! 
 
 Good night ! 
 
CRIPPLED FOR LIFE: 
 
 A POLICEMAN'S STORY. 
 
 o 
 
 ' S'P^ O we have any accidents here, sir ? Any children 
 1 ^U ^^^ over, you say ? 
 
 Well, yes, but scarce any to speak of, and only 
 just once in a way. 
 It's a wonder ? You're right, that it is, sir, the crowds 
 
 that are running about ; 
 Lor' bless you, they don't care a button so long as they 
 only get out. 
 
 There's just one case that I witnessed, the story's not 
 
 often been told, 
 But I'll never forget it, sir, never, though I live to a 
 
 hundred years old. 
 If you care just to listen a minute I'll tell that same story 
 
 to you ; 
 It's touching and sounds like a novel, but nevertheless it 
 
 is true. 
 
i6 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 'Twas a Saturday afternoon, sir, on a beautiful summer's 
 
 day, 
 And dozens of bright little youngsters were out in this 
 
 street at play ; 
 And lor', they looked happy and healthy, 'twas the 
 
 pleasantest sig-ht to see 
 The way they were running- and jumping and clapping 
 
 their hands with glee. 
 
 They were some of 'em playing at hopscotch — a-hopping 
 
 and kicking a stone, 
 Whilst others, more witty and clever were making up 
 
 games of their own ; 
 The youngest of all in the gutters were mixing up mortar 
 
 and pies. 
 Whilst looks of enjoyment and pleasure shone out from 
 
 their bright little eyes. 
 
 The brightest and prettiest baby it was ever my lot to 
 
 see — 
 Just over a twelvemonth her age was, and some distant 
 
 relation to me — 
 Had crawled from the side of her sister, who ought to 
 
 have kept her in sight. 
 And was sitting out there in the road, sir, a-crowing with 
 
 all her might. 
 
CRIPPLED FOR LIFE. 17 
 
 I wasn't on duty just then, sir, and it never struck me 
 
 there was harm, 
 Till, chancing- to glance up the roadway, I started and 
 
 roared with alarm ; 
 For there, dashing- swift round the corner, a fire-engine 
 
 tore up the street. 
 And the baby was left in the middle, in the track of the 
 
 horses' feet. 
 
 The men saw the child, and endeavoured to stop their 
 
 mad horses' career, 
 When out in the road dashed a youngster — I couldn't 
 
 help giving a cheer — 
 And he caught up the babe in an instant, then swiftly he 
 
 took to his heels. 
 But the engine was on him— he stumbled — and fell 'neath 
 
 the wild whirling wheels. 
 
 The baby was safe, Dick had saved her, by pushing her 
 out of the way ; 
 
 He had risked his own life, little hero, I'll always remem- 
 ber that day. 
 
 How they picked him up, just like a dead thing, and took 
 him directly to Guy's, 
 
 The thought of that scene makes me foolish, and brings 
 up the tears to my eyes. 
 
LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 But they found that he wasn't quite killed, sir, and after a 
 
 bit he got round ; 
 Thoug-h one of his legs was quite crippled, and couldn't 
 
 be put to the ground. 
 'Twas dreadfully hard on the youngster, he wasn't much 
 
 older than six, 
 For instead of his running and leaping, he could only just 
 
 hobble on sticks. 
 
 5fr ^ "^ * 
 
 Well, the baby grew up, so did Dick, sir, and just like the 
 people in plays. 
 
 They determined to love one another the rest of their 
 natural days ; 
 
 For Dick, he adored little Mary, and Mary, she wor- 
 shipped him, 
 
 And the least bit of extra devotion made up for the loss 
 of his limb. 
 
 The end of this story is strange, sir, you may not believe 
 
 it is true, 
 But it is, I can prove it, if need be, and will just to satisfy 
 
 you; 
 If you'll just knock at No. ij, sir, you will see this same 
 
 Dick and his wife, 
 And he'll tell you he's never regretted the day he was 
 
 " crippled for life." 
 
A BROKER'S DEVICE. 
 
 ES, you're right, sir; we have to be artful, or 
 else we should never get on ; 
 And as for the landlords, it's certain they'd 
 only be trampled upon. 
 No; it isn't the poor that give trouble ; they usually pay 
 
 up the best ; 
 It's the shabby-genteel sort of people that put our astute- 
 ness to test. 
 
 Well, look here, sir, I'll spin you the story of one little 
 
 case that I had; 
 The house was just out in the suburbs, and the tenant 
 
 was regular bad ; 
 Don't pity the chap — he's not worth it ; you know some 
 
 like him, I dare say. 
 Who live all their lives upon others, yet are awful big 
 
 swells in their way. 
 
A BROKER'S DEVICE. 
 
 Well, the landlord he sent me the warrant for a " couple 
 
 of quarters " or so. 
 And I went in the usual manner, but discovered that if 
 
 was " no go." 
 He was rather too old to be caught, sir, and I saw with 
 
 professional eye 
 That I'd some little trouble before me, for my bird was- 
 
 too wary and shy. 
 
 For a week I laid siege to the villa, but not a good chance 
 
 did I see, 
 They answered all calls by the window, and bolted the 
 
 door against me ; 
 And the worst of it was, after sunset, he used to come out 
 
 and begin 
 To chaff in his bantering manner, and swear I should 
 
 never get in. 
 
 Then I dressed as a milkman one morning, determining' 
 
 not to be bilked, 
 But he came to the window, and, smiling, said, " No, I 
 
 don't want to be milked.''' 
 And again with a parcel I tried him, but no, all my 
 
 tricks, big and small, 
 Were always found out by the rascal, and I could'nt get 
 
 access at all. 
 
LAYS OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 I made myself scarce for a week, sir, and carefully 
 
 thought of a plan, 
 For I didn't intend to be beaten, and vowed to get over 
 
 the man. 
 So I got my young fellow to help me, and, together we 
 
 started again, 
 In a way that looked silly enough, sir, but which happily 
 
 wasn't in vain. 
 
 We borrowed some measuring tapes, sir, and some other 
 surveyor's affairs, 
 
 And dressing up spicy and natty, proceeded to give our- 
 selves airs. 
 
 We stuck up our posts and looked over, in quite a pro- 
 fessional way, 
 
 And measured the road near the villa the whole of the 
 livelong day. 
 
 We appeared next morning again, sir, a-walking and 
 
 spying about, 
 The tenant was there at his window, a-watching our 
 
 movements, no doubt ; 
 3ut we never looked up at the villa, we seemed to have 
 
 plenty to do, 
 Though we knew not the use of our tools, sir, and no more 
 
 of surveying than you. 
 
A BROKER'S DEVICE. 
 
 Then we measured the fence of his garden, and presently 
 
 out the man came ; 
 He wished us a very good morning, and of course, sir, we 
 
 wished him the same. 
 And he chatted and asked us our business, and we trumped 
 
 up a plausible tale 
 About land being wanted directly for a new branch line of 
 
 the rail. 
 
 Well, we grew so pleasant and friendly that he let us go 
 
 over his ground. 
 And we measured and then surveyed it, till all of a sudden 
 
 we found 
 That we'd have to just take the dimensions of the house 
 
 from the front to back, 
 And he granted permission " with pleasure," so we entered 
 
 the house " in a crack." 
 
 His face was study, I tell you, when on getting inside I 
 
 explained 
 That, according to landlord's instructions, for two quarters' 
 
 rent I distrained. 
 He was perfectly struck with amazement ; then, raving 
 
 and stamping, he swore 
 That from that day forth he would never trust " measuring 
 
 men " any more. 
 
A NEGLECTED HERO. 
 
 n^'^jN a cold and dismal garret in a filthy London 
 
 ^"^^^ Where the cheering beams of sunlight very, 
 
 very rarely come. 
 Lay an aged man — a cripple — on an old and tattered 
 
 bed; 
 While beside him stood a lady — 'twas to her the cripple 
 
 said: 
 
 " What's the matter, did you ask, Miss ? Well, I feel so 
 
 weak and queer ; 
 And my heart beats fast and heavy, it's a fever, Miss, 
 
 I fear. 
 You should not have ventured near me; you, perhaps 
 
 may catch it, too. 
 Not afraid ? You're awful plucky, and it's very kind of 
 
 you. 
 
34 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 "No, don't go and fetch the doctor, I've no coin to pay 
 
 his bill; 
 Folks like us must take our chance, Miss, when we 
 
 happen to be ill. 
 And I'm not afraid of sickness, I can bear it like a 
 
 man; 
 As I bore it years ago, Miss, when the Russian war 
 
 began. 
 
 " Been a soldier ? I believe you ! why I served for fifteen 
 
 years, 
 And was once a smart young private in the grand old 
 
 Grenadiers. 
 Look you. Miss, I've got three medals, showing plainly 
 
 how I fought 
 For the honour of old England, when her voice was 
 
 set at nought. 
 
 I have braved two Russian winters, badly clothed and 
 
 badly fed ; 
 Twice have I been wounded sorely, and been reckoned 
 
 with the dead. 
 Why, I lost my foot at Alma, when we stormed and took 
 
 the heights; 
 'Twas a glorious battle, lady, and the best of all my 
 
 fights. 
 
A NEGLECTED HERO. 2S 
 
 "I can picture it just now, Miss, and I fight it once 
 again, 
 
 Why I seem to hear the bullets, as they pelt like heavy 
 rain. 
 
 Hark ! the stirring ' Charge ' is sounding ; up the moun- 
 tain's side we go, 
 
 Caring nothing for our safety, so that we can meet 
 the foe. 
 
 ■" But those days are gone for ever ; youth, and health, 
 
 and strength, all fled, 
 Here I lie in this cold garret, well-nigh starved for want 
 
 of bread. 
 Crippled in my country's service, then discharged a 
 
 shattered man, 
 With a mean and paltry pension — that's a grateful 
 
 country's plan ! 
 
 -" I am bitter ? Well I may be. Why should England 
 
 still forget 
 That she owes to her old soldiers an incalculable 
 
 debt? 
 She will spend her millions often, in a way that's 
 
 indiscreet, 
 While some scores of her old vet'rans have not food 
 
 enough to eat. 
 
25 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 " Don't excite myself ? I must, Miss, when I think upon 
 
 the past ; 
 Still, I'll have to keep more quiet, for my pulse beats very 
 
 fast ; 
 And I think I'm getting weaker, and its hard to get my 
 
 breath. 
 Oh, that on the heights of Alma, I had met a soldier's 
 
 death ! " 
 
 Ere there dawned another morning, this old soldier passed 
 
 away ; 
 Quitting life's stern field of battle for the realms of 
 
 brightest day. 
 His true story makes us wonder. England ! 'tis a crying 
 
 shame, 
 That ye so neglect the heroes who have won you power 
 
 and fame ! 
 

 
 CABBY'S ADVENTURE. 
 
 tt'g^^ID I tell you my adventure? Very well, old 
 R@wl chap, I will. 
 
 (Only come inside the shelter, for it's cosy 
 
 there, and still). 
 It is not a lengthy story, and, of course, I vouch it's 
 
 true, 
 For it happened to myself, mate, so I know 'twill int'rest 
 
 you. 
 
 I'd been plying all last Monday, from the morn till ten 
 
 at night, 
 And had taken nought to speak of, so my temper wasn't 
 
 bright ; 
 I was standing on the rank here, hoping soon to get a 
 
 fare, 
 When I heard a voice call " Hansom ! '' from the other 
 
 corner there. 
 
28 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 I was over in a second, gflad to get the smallest 
 
 job, 
 Even though I'd have to travel full two miles to earn a 
 
 " bob." 
 And I saw upon the pavement quite a seedy-looking 
 
 chap, 
 Clad in shabby, threadbare garments, and a slouched hat 
 
 minus nap. 
 
 He was in an awful hurry, whilst his face was pale as 
 
 death. 
 And he told his destination like a person out of 
 
 breath. 
 In he jumped, and off I started wondering what the man 
 
 could be. 
 For to tell the sober truth, mate, he had rather puzzled 
 
 me. 
 
 I was growing quite suspicious as I quickly drove 
 
 along. 
 For his manner seemed to tell me he was up to something 
 
 wrong ; 
 So, to satisfy my longing for a little extra proof, 
 I undid my little trap, mate, and I eyed him through the 
 
 roof. 
 
CABBTS ADVENTURE. zg 
 
 He was sitting like on thorns, mate, and was fidgfetting 
 
 about, 
 Then he suddenly, from somewhere, brought a pair of 
 
 pistols out. 
 I am not a nervous fellow, but it nearly " raised my 
 
 hair," 
 When I saw him eye the weapons with a sort of loving 
 
 air. 
 
 It was risky thus to watch him, so I drew my eye 
 
 away, 
 But before I closed the trap, mate, I distinctly heard him 
 
 say. 
 In a voice of pent-up passion, like the villian at the 
 
 Vic, 
 " Gracious heaven, grant that I may yet have time to do 
 
 the trick ! " 
 
 I was puzzled most completely, and I frankly owr* to 
 
 you 
 That I couldn't really settle what was best or right to 
 
 do; 
 Anyhow, 'twas my intention not to let the fellow 
 
 slip. 
 But to track him if I could, mate, or to give the police the 
 
 tip. 
 
30 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 Well, we reached our destination ; out he jumped and 
 
 paid his fare, 
 Then he darted round a turning- just as hard as he could 
 
 tear. 
 I was after him directly (left my cab to take its 
 
 chance), 
 Vowing vengeance on the fellow who was " leading me a 
 
 dance." 
 
 I could see him on before me, running at an awful 
 
 rate, 
 While I tried my best to follow, though it wasn't easy, 
 
 mate. 
 All the shops had closed their shutters, barring one upon 
 
 the right, 
 And I staggered when I saw him make for this with all 
 
 his might. 
 
 "Now," thought I, "the end's approaching," as I saw 
 
 him rush inside ; 
 Quick as thought your humble servant followed with 
 
 avenging stride. 
 Mate, we'd gone into a pawnshop ! I was done completely 
 
 brown ! 
 For he just produced his pistols, and he pawned ihem /or a 
 
 crown. 
 
A NOBLE COSTER. 
 
 HERE you are, sir — that's Pincher, the coster, 
 the chap I was talking about ; 
 That's him with his donkey and barrer, 
 family out ; 
 He's nothink uncommon to look at, he lives like the rest 
 
 of us do, 
 And yet he's the best-hearted feller of any that ever I 
 knew. 
 
 It's four year ago, I should reckon, since Pincher and I 
 
 became chums. 
 When we lived at Whitechapel together in one of the 
 
 best of the slums ; 
 For Pincher was in the same business, and went to the 
 
 market with me, 
 So of course, we got thick with each other, and at length 
 
 became partners, d'ye see. 
 
32 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 Well, we worked up a donkey and barrer, and was 
 gettting on swimmingly when 
 
 My partner fell slap into love, sir (like the rest of the soft- 
 hearted men), 
 
 With a pretty young girl in her teens, sir, and one that 
 seemed rather too smart 
 
 For a steady old file like my Pincher — howsomdever, she 
 captured his heart. 
 
 They were married in less than a month, sir, from the 
 
 time that their courting began, 
 And directly the two were united my chum seemed a 
 
 different man ; 
 For the new partner cut out the old 'un, so I very soon 
 
 left them alone, 
 And bought up a sturdy old donkey, and a neat little stock 
 
 o' my own. 
 
 Well, I lost sight of Pincher for weeks, sir, in the usual 
 
 struggle of life, 
 But I heard from a pal that poor Pincher had had a bad 
 
 time with his wife. 
 And that finally Jennie had left him^ appearing to care not 
 
 a rap 
 For the husband who faithfully loved her, but eloped with 
 
 a sporting young chap. 
 
A NOBLE COSTER. 33 
 
 Then I met Pincher up at the market, and I hardly believed 
 
 it were him. 
 He was altered so much through his trouble, and his eyes 
 
 had got sunken and dim. 
 And he said, as he " tipped me his flipper," " Old pal, 
 
 I've been left in the lurch. 
 But I know as you'll stick to old Pincher, and give me 
 
 your help in the search." 
 
 We went, and for days we were searching, but of Jennie 
 we found not a trace. 
 
 While the gloomy expression grew deeper on the sorrow- 
 ing Pincher's face. 
 
 I know if some men lost a wife, sir, they'd consider her 
 not worth a rap, 
 
 But my chum was a different feller — a regular fidgetty 
 chap. 
 
 We were sitting one night up at Pincher's and having a 
 bit of a chat. 
 
 When we heard a strange sound on the staircase, a sort 
 of a low pit-a-pat. 
 
 And then some one opened the door, sir, I was never so 
 struck in my life 
 
 As I was when I saw in the doorway the form of the run- 
 away wife ! 
 
34 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 She fell on her knees before Pincher, " Oh ! husband, 
 
 forg-ive me ! " she cried, 
 " Don't curse me, I know I deserve it ; but I'm sick of the 
 
 g-litter outside !" 
 Then Pincher he went to her calmly, and I saw the salt 
 
 tears in his eyes. 
 As he kissed her on both of her cheeks, sir, and tenderly 
 
 helped her to rise. 
 
 He never reproached her, nor scolded, but spoke in his 
 
 calm, loving way. 
 And so touched the heart of his Jennie, that she hadn't 
 
 a sentence to say. 
 She'd expected, no doubt, to be beaten, and driven with 
 
 oaths from the door, 
 And warned by a furious husband not to get in his way 
 
 any more. 
 
 He took her back there on the instant, and they've lived a 
 
 bright life ever since, 
 They've a couple of fine little youngsters, and Pincher's 
 
 as proud as a prince. 
 Lots o' folks have called Pincher a fool, sir, but I'm fully 
 
 convinced that he ain't. 
 For in my estimation his action was worthy a Biblical 
 
 saint. 
 
A MOTHER'S DARING. 
 
 lON'T you talk to me about women, as though 
 they were timid and weak ; 
 You've not seen so many as I have, or that's 
 not the way you would speak. 
 Why, bless you, there's some of the females have twice 
 
 as much pluck as we men ; 
 You doubt it? Well, listen a moment, I'll tell you an 
 anecdote then. 
 
 'Tis twelve months ago, mate, or nearly, since what I 
 
 shall tell you occurred. 
 But I've never forgotten the story — 'tis true, mate, not 
 
 just what I heard. 
 And the subject's a female, a poor one, and not very 
 
 lovely, I own, 
 But as noble and plucky a woman as any that I've ever 
 
 known. 
 
36 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 Nell Blake was an artisan's wife, mate, and she'd one 
 
 little maiden of three. 
 Whose manner was winning and pretty, and full of sweet 
 
 innocent glee. 
 And the mother was proud of her daughter (and her pride 
 
 was but natural too), 
 In fact she just cherished the maiden, as good mothers 
 
 usually do. 
 
 One day a menagerie came, mate, and halted quite 
 
 close to their street. 
 And Nell thought she'd take little Jessie, and give her a 
 
 bit of a treat. 
 So, dressing themselves in their neatest, they went on 
 
 the opening night. 
 Together with scores of the neighbours, all bent on 
 
 enjoying the sight. 
 
 They entered, and Jess was delighted, the scene was so 
 
 new to her eyes. 
 And now and again she would utter a word to express 
 
 her surprise ; 
 The tricks of the monkeys amused her, and she couldn't 
 
 refrain from a laugh, 
 When she noticed the neck of the creature Nell told her 
 
 was called the giraffe. 
 
A MOTHER'S DARING. 37 
 
 Well, all of a sudden the people came rushing- along- in a 
 
 crowd, 
 With terror writ plain on their faces, while some of them 
 
 shouted aloud — 
 " The tiger's broke loose, he is coming ! " Nell heard and 
 
 was struck with dismay, 
 Then she turned to clasp hands with her daughter, and 
 
 hurry her out of the way. 
 
 But Jessie had gone ; she had wandered to look at some 
 curious thing, 
 
 Not thinking what trouble and sorrow to a fond mother's 
 heart it would bring. 
 
 Nell sought for her, called her in vain, mate, and her 
 fears and misgivings were such 
 
 That she felt her wee maiden was surely in the blood- 
 thirsty animal's clutch. 
 
 Then her sensitive ear was smitten by the sound of her 
 
 daughter's cry. 
 And frantic and breathless she darted to rescue her child 
 
 or to die. 
 In a moment she saw little Jessie, with staring eyes, 
 
 holding her breath, 
 'While the tiger was crouching before her ere springing 
 
 to deal swift death. 
 
38 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 Nell Blake never halted a moment, but straight to her 
 
 child did she gfo, 
 Rushed in between her and the tiger, forgetting the 
 
 strength of her foe ; 
 She watched him for several seconds, then just as he 
 
 sprang at his prey, 
 She snatched up her child in an instant, and tried to get 
 
 out of his way. 
 
 She eluded his spring and she dodged him, but he caught 
 
 he*" a blow on the arm, 
 That caused her to reel in a swoon, mate, and made Jessie 
 
 shriek with alarm ; 
 Then quickly the mother recovered, and her joy surely no 
 
 one can tell, 
 When she heard the sharp crack of a rifle, and the 
 
 animal staggered and fell. 
 
 That's the anecdote ; how did you like it ? D'ye see you 
 
 were quite in the wrong, 
 And some women can beat the men, mate, although 
 
 they're not nearly as strong. 
 Don't you talk against women again, mate, for I think 
 
 everybody will own. 
 That if you cannot praise 'em a little, you'd far bettef 
 
 leave them alone. 
 
BROUGHT BACK. 
 
 JHE wandered alone at midnight, throug-h alley 
 and court and street, 
 Through the heart of the wealthy city, yet 
 starving for food to eat ; 
 Still on, though her feet were weary, and the wintry wind 
 
 blew keen. 
 Whilst her heart was nearly breaking at thought of the 
 " might have been." 
 
 Through her mind old scenes are passing, so vivid and 
 
 quick and clear ; 
 She can see the stile where Harold first met her and 
 
 called her "dear : " 
 And the old, sweet country village, where she lived in the 
 
 days gone by, 
 And where not a pang of sorrow e'er caused her a tear 
 
 or sigh. 
 
40 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 Then again does her fancy paint her a picture of that gay 
 
 scene, 
 When the wedding bells rang sweetly, and she was a 
 
 sailor's queen. 
 But the vision melts, and quickly there flits through her 
 
 haunted mind 
 The sight of her love departing, and leaving her sad 
 
 behind. 
 
 He had gone to his duty bravely, away o'er the salt 
 
 blue sea. 
 "Oh, God ! " she prayed when he left her, " bring Harold 
 
 again to me." 
 But months went by and he came not, and novv two years 
 
 had fled. 
 She had lost all hope, and mourned him as one who was 
 
 surely dead. 
 
 She had wed against parents' wishes, they'd renounced 
 
 her long ago. 
 And poverty's strong hand forced her to take to the 
 
 needle and sew ; 
 But she who had loved the country, and thrived in its pure, 
 
 fresh air. 
 Soon pined in the crowded city, penned up in a workroom 
 
 there. 
 
BROUGHT BACK. 41 
 
 Still on did she wander slowly, till, weary and well-nigh 
 
 spent, 
 Into one of the broad recesses on London Bridge she 
 
 went, 
 And peering just over the coping, she strains her eyes to 
 
 scan 
 The place beneath where swiftly the cold, black river 
 
 ran. 
 
 What horrible thoughts are coming ! They tell her a 
 
 leap in there 
 Will ease her of all life's burdens, its pain and want and 
 
 care. 
 " Only one leap," she murmurs ; " no more to be starved, 
 
 oppressed ; 
 May be I shall meet my Harold in the far-off land of 
 
 rest." 
 
 She sprang on the bridge's coping, and gave just a glance 
 
 around. 
 No one in sight ! 'Twas lucky ! But her sharp ear 
 
 caught a sound. 
 'Twas a footstep coming quickly. Should she wait till it 
 
 passed her by ? 
 No, she would plunge that instant. What matter who 
 
 saw her die ? 
 
42 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 But a voice cries, " Hold! for God's sake ! " She starts, 
 
 and falls from the ridge, 
 Not into the rushing- river — not on to the hard, stone 
 
 bridge ; 
 But a man's strong arms have caught her, she is gently 
 
 raised to her feet ; 
 She turns, and they both are startled as soon as their 
 
 glances meet. 
 
 "Harold!" "Why, Bess, my darling!" The husband 
 
 and wife have met. 
 What pen can describe the gladness such meetings as 
 
 these beget ? 
 Bess hardly believed her senses ; she felt so supremely 
 
 blest. 
 As her weary head lay pillowed on her sailor husband's 
 
 breast. 
 
 He told how his ship had foundered, how he managed to 
 
 reach a shore, 
 Where he eked out an existence for eighteen months or 
 
 more, 
 Till rescued, he came to England to search for his poor 
 
 young wife, 
 And how he at last had found her, and brought her back 
 
 to life. 
 
A CLERK'S RUSE. 
 
 OU admire my g-allant conduct ? I am glad f 
 but still I fear 
 That my actions weren't so gallant and so brave 
 as they appear. 
 Ah ! you haven't heard the details, and you want the 
 
 story through ? 
 Well, I am not very busy, so I'll try and tell it you. 
 
 First of all, I'd lilce to mention, that we menials of the 
 
 pen 
 Often do not leave the City till the clocks are striking 
 
 ten. 
 I am used to this infliction, and, besides, I've extra pay ; 
 But some firms will give you nothing, though you slave- 
 
 the night away. 
 
44 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 I was working- late one evening in this little cosy 
 
 room, 
 All the clerks had left the building, which was quiet as the 
 
 tomb. 
 I was so absorbed in business that the time flew swiftly 
 
 by, 
 
 Till I found, all of a sudden, that eleven o'clock was 
 nigh. 
 
 Well, I thought I'd done enough, sir, so I put my books 
 
 away, 
 Locked my room, then down the staircase I with caution 
 
 took my way. 
 I had nearly reached the bottom, when I thought I heard 
 
 a sound ; 
 So I stopped awhile and listened, peering anxiously 
 
 around. 
 
 Yes ; I heard the noise again, sir, and I'd not the slightest 
 
 doubt 
 That somewhere within the building there were trespassers 
 
 about. 
 Then the question came before me, " Should I leave them 
 
 to their work ?" 
 But 'twas plain I had a duty that it wasn't right to 
 
 shirk. 
 
A CLERICS RUSE. 45 
 
 So I crept back up the staircase, wond'ring how the case 
 
 would end, 
 When I thought I heard a footstep just beginning to 
 
 descend. 
 Was it real, or was it fancy? If 'tis true, how can I 
 
 act? 
 Then I saw a man was coming, and the footstep was a 
 
 fact. 
 
 Oh ! that I had just a weapon ; but I hadn't such a 
 
 thing ; 
 I had nothing but a pipe case, and some keys upon a 
 
 ring. 
 Do you wonder I grew nervous ? — in a moment we should 
 
 meet ; 
 And I felt that it was certain I should get a sore 
 
 defeat. 
 
 Somehow, I betrayed my presence, and the fellow darted 
 
 back. 
 " Now," thought I, " it's ' neck or nothing,'" and I followed 
 
 on his track ; 
 While I held my precious pipe-case like a pistol in my 
 
 hand, 
 And in very tragic accents I commanded him to 
 
 " Stand ! " 
 
46 
 
 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 I was playing- most high-handed, but it was my only 
 
 chance ; 
 So, as slowly he retreated, I continued to advance. 
 Vowing, in most boastful language, that if he attempted 
 
 flight, 
 I would pull my pistol's trigger, and would settle him 
 
 outright. 
 
 Then we got on to the landing, where a door stood open 
 
 wide, 
 Through this door the burglar vanished, slamming it 
 
 when safe inside ; 
 And I heard him give a chuckle, but I think it stopped 
 
 his grin 
 When I got my bunch of keys, sir, and securely locked 
 
 him in. 
 
 How I ended my adventure, you, of course, already 
 
 guess^ 
 For a pair of City " bobbies " moved him to a " new 
 
 address." 
 As you heard the story through, sir, I am sure you must 
 
 have thought 
 There was nothing brave or gallant in the way the man 
 
 was caught. 
 
THE LITTLE FIREMAN. 
 
 HAT do you think o' my youngster — he's a likely 
 lad, sir, eh ? 
 You would n't think he was a hero in the amateur- 
 fireman way. 
 But he is. I can tell you a story that'll make you look 
 
 and stare ; 
 How he brought down a lad at a fire, sir, from the top 
 of that building there. 
 
 It's a hospital, that's what it is, sir ; and it's nearly a 
 
 fortnight ago 
 Since a chum o' my Willy's went in, sir, on account of his 
 
 health bein' low. 
 And my Will he got anxious and worried, for he missed 
 
 his young playfellow bad. 
 And he went about gloomy and grumpy, and always 
 
 looked lonely and sad. 
 
48 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 He was constantly watching- that window (the top one, up 
 
 there to the right). 
 And I'm certain, if I would a-let him, he'd a-looked at it 
 
 all through the night ; 
 For his playfellow's bed lay near it, and my Willy knew 
 
 that quite well, 
 And to look at that window was pleasure, far more than 
 
 we can tell. 
 
 Well, he kept like that for some days, sir ; he was always 
 
 a-watching that place, 
 When he rushed in to me one evening, with a look of 
 
 alarm on his face. 
 " It's on fire ! " he shouted ; " oh ! father ; the hospital's 
 
 all in a blaze ! " 
 And he looked at me with such eyes, sir, that I shrank 
 
 from his terrified gaze. 
 
 " Oh, father !" he cried in his terror, and he seemed nigh 
 
 ready to drop, 
 " How can they get at poor Tommy ? he's right at the 
 
 very tip-top, 
 It'll burn him right up to a cinder if he is obliged to 
 
 stay; 
 I'll run out and tell them to fetch him," and he instantly 
 
 darted away. 
 
THE LITTLE FIREMAN. 49 
 
 I told him to stop, but he did'nt ; so I followed him, sir, 
 
 like mad, 
 But he went on ahead like an engine, and the crush was 
 
 fearfully bad ; 
 The hospital, sir, was a-burning, and the flames getting- 
 
 fiercer and higher, 
 While the fireman were working their hardest to get some 
 
 control o' the fire. 
 
 They were fetching the patients out, too, sir, as quickly 
 
 as ever they could, 
 And the fire-escape men were all busy and doing a great 
 
 deal of good, 
 But the friends of the patients were watching to see that 
 
 they all were got out. 
 And above all the roar of the flames, sir, we presently 
 
 heard a shout — 
 
 "There's a boy at the top forgotten," and I thought 
 
 o' my Will's little chum ; 
 And my eyes grew heavy and dim, sir, for the great salt 
 
 tears would come. 
 The fireman seemed well nigh distracted— the escape was 
 
 on fire at the top ; 
 And they said it was death to ascend it, for the ladder 
 
 would certainly drop. 
 
50 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 But a lad dashed up that escape, sir, as it seemed to his 
 
 certain death ; 
 While the crowd stood speechless and silent, and ev'ry 
 
 one held his breath. 
 That boy was my Will, I could see him, by the light from 
 
 the great red iire, 
 And I felt — well, I can't tell how, sir, as I saw him mount 
 
 higher and higher. 
 
 For the ladder seemed all of a totter, but that boy of mine 
 
 was so light 
 That he got to the window in safety ; and we saw him get 
 
 in all right ; 
 But he came- out again in a second, and he carried a small 
 
 white pack ; 
 That boy had gone after his Tommy, and was bringing 
 
 him down on his back. 
 
 ^uch a cheer rent the heavens just then, sir, as I never 
 
 shall hear again ; 
 And the crowd got as mad as hatters, and shouted with 
 
 might and main. 
 But the lads got down safe to the ground, sir, and both 
 
 of 'em fainted away ; 
 For after that dreadful excitement, 'twas no wonder at 
 
 all, I say. 
 
THE LITTLE FIREMAN. 
 
 5» 
 
 What do you think of him now, sir ? a likely lad, sir, 
 
 eh! 
 There's not many youngsters a-going- as could act in that 
 
 sort of a way ; 
 For he risked his own life for his playmate, and he's ready 
 
 ito do it still. 
 So I hope there's no harm in my saying I'm proud of my 
 
 Fireman Will. 
 
BOB'S MEDAL. 
 A BARGEE'S STORY. 
 
 I HAT boy is a treasure— he is, sir, and wuth 
 his full weight in pure gold. 
 He don't look much like it, I own, sir, with hi& 
 garments so dirty and old ! 
 His face would'nt hurt for a washin' and his hair wants a 
 
 touch with the comb, 
 But you won't find a pluckier chap, sir, I don't care 
 wherever yer roam. 
 
 He's not werry 'andsome, I reckon, his features is rather 
 
 too large. 
 But good looks ain't specially wanted aboard of an old 
 
 river barge. 
 I look at the actions o' youngsters, for that seems to me 
 
 a good test. 
 An' if they've got smartness and courage, I allers forgive 
 
 'em the rest. 
 
BOB'S MEDAL 53 
 
 Wot's he done ? Why, he's aliens a- doing- ; he bangs 
 
 all the boys that I know. 
 He's not up to much at his lessons, an'_ he's got no school 
 
 prizes to show ; 
 But he holds something better than these, sir — a medal 
 
 he gallantly won 
 By saving the life of a baby — but I'll tell you just 'ow it 
 
 were done. 
 
 Our craft is a river barge really, but we do the canals 
 
 now and then ; 
 I don't like it much, for my own part, though its pleasant 
 
 to see some o' the men. 
 It doesn't suit Bob, I can tell you ; he likes to sail fast 
 
 with a breeze. 
 And not to be towed up a ditch, sir, by a horse that's 
 
 gone wrong at the knees. 
 
 We were bound up the Regent's Canal, sir, one morning 
 
 in last July ; 
 We had been for a trip up the Mersey, and the end of 
 
 our journey was nigh ; 
 So we took it quite easy, as usual, and left Master Bobby 
 
 to steer, 
 JFor we knew if young Bobby was helmsman that we should 
 
 have nothing to fear. 
 
54 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 We journeyed on slowly, of course, sir, till we came to a 
 
 neat-looking bridge. 
 And a nurse-girl was standing upon it, a-holding a child 
 
 on the ridge. 
 I thought 'twas a foolhardy action, but still, 'twas no 
 
 business of mine, 
 To trouble with other folk's matters is not werry much in 
 
 my line. 
 
 We were just passing under the bridge, sir, when I heard 
 
 a loud shriek of alarm. 
 And it instantly struck me the baby had suddenly come to 
 
 some harm. 
 I saw something fall in the water, and I shouted to Bobby, 
 
 " Look there ! " 
 He looked, and then darted slap over, with his heels right 
 
 up in the air. 
 
 He went for the child like a hero the moment he heard 
 
 the splash, 
 No stopping to ponder the question— he didn't consider 
 
 it rash ; 
 He saw that the child was in danger of filling an early 
 
 grave. 
 So over he went in an instant, to do what he could to 
 
 save. 
 
BUB'S MEDAL. 55 
 
 I jumped in the barge's old punt, sir, and pulled like mad 
 
 to the scene, 
 In time to haul in Master Bobby and the poor little babe 
 
 all serene. 
 It was just "touch and g-o" with the baby, 'twas some 
 
 time ere she came round. 
 And had Bob but delayed for two seconds, she certainly 
 
 would 'a been drowned, 
 
 Our Bob was a sort of a hero, at least for a couple of 
 
 days, 
 But he never got " uppish " about it— he cared very little 
 
 for praise. 
 It's that makes me like him the better, for the chap as I 
 
 hates the most 
 Is the one who can't do a brave action without he must 
 
 make it a boast. 
 
 The friends of the child came down 'andsome, and Bobby 
 
 got plenty of cash. 
 But he cared most of all for his medal, though even with 
 
 that he's not flash. 
 He keeps it inside of his jacket, done up in its black 
 
 leather case. 
 For he doesn't want that to prove pluck, sir ; his certifi-^ 
 
 cate's there, in his face. 
 
A WATCHMAN'S STORY. 
 
 RATHER monotonous life, sir? Well, yes, I 
 just reckon you're rig-ht; 
 It isn't the liveliest calling to watch in a ware- 
 house all nig-ht; 
 For solitude's all werry well, sir, for poets to praise and 
 
 uphold. 
 But it's not werry nice for a watchman when the nights 
 are so bitterly cold. 
 
 Do I mind it ? Well, not on the whole, sir ; you see I've 
 
 got used to it now ; 
 But when I first joined the perfession I couldn't g-et on 
 
 anyhow. 
 For, you know, I was dreadfully startled the werry first 
 
 nig-ht I began. 
 And that seemed to damp all my courage, and mak-e me 
 
 a fidgetty man. 
 
A WATCHMAN'S STORY. 57 
 
 'Twas a big- " fancy firm" that engaged me, when some 
 
 of their workman were sacked ; 
 Their warehouse was simply gigantic, with all sorts of 
 
 valuables packed. 
 My duties were easy, though strict, sir, the place was put 
 
 under my care, 
 And I was responsible solely for all of the articles there. 
 
 Well, I started my watch about ten, sir ; of course, I 
 
 had nothing to do ; 
 But in walking about the warehouse, I spent a good hour 
 
 or two, 
 The silence was awful impressive — there wasn't the 
 
 sound of a mouse ; 
 And I sat down to rest for a moment, up there at the top 
 
 of the house. 
 
 Crash ! I sprang to my feet in an instant, as I wondered 
 
 what noise it could be ; 
 The sound seemed to come from the basement — I would 
 
 travel down quickly and see. 
 So, taking my lantern in hand, sir, I made a most diligent 
 
 search. 
 But saw nothing strange or uncommon, and all was as 
 
 still as a church. 
 
58 LA YS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 I turned and ascended the staircase, when I felt myself 
 
 forced to the ground, 
 And a man whispered, " Hist ! or I'll kill you ; don't utter 
 
 a single sound !" 
 Then he whistled a low, long- whistle, and I heard^ th& 
 
 quick shuffle of feet. 
 As three men came gliding in, sir, from out of the silent 
 
 street. 
 
 I can't tell exactly my feelings as I lay expecting death ; 
 I felt that I dared not move, sir ; scarce dared to take a 
 
 breath. 
 And my heart stood almost still, sir, and my blood seemed 
 
 turned to ice. 
 When the men produced some lashing, and bound me 
 
 up in a trice. 
 
 They suddenly left me, lying as helpless as man could 
 
 be, 
 While horrible thoughts came taunting, oppressing, and 
 
 worrying me. 
 I struggled to burst my bonds, sir, but a prisoner fast I 
 
 lay. 
 And I knew no help could reach me till the morn of the 
 
 coming day. 
 
A WATCHMAN'S STORY. 59 
 
 Then I fancied that something a-burning attracted my 
 
 sense of smell, 
 And a horrible dread possessed me, I seemed to be under 
 
 a spell. 
 For stronger and stronger the odour seemed rising from 
 
 under the floor ; 
 77ie place was on fire ! I could feel it ; I swooned, and I 
 
 knew no more. 
 
 When I came to myself I was lying in a snow-white 
 
 hospital bed, 
 I was bandaged with wool all over, from the soles of my 
 
 feet to my head. 
 A fireman had rescued my life, sir, and not one minute 
 
 too soon. 
 For had he not stumbled upon me, I had never recovered 
 
 my swoon. 
 
 The villains who served me so badly were some of the 
 
 men who were sacked ; 
 They did it just out of revenge, sir, but I'm happy to say 
 
 they were tracked. 
 You wonder I keep to the business ? Well, p'r'aps it is 
 
 funny to you, 
 But, you see, I've a living to get, sir, and I've nothing" 
 
 else better to do. 
 
LOST AND FOUND: 
 
 A COMMISSIONAIRE'S STORY. 
 ^o 
 
 AVE I an uncommon story that I can relate 
 to you ? 
 Well, no doubt if I reflected I could think of 
 one or two. 
 Stay, I've one, maybe 'twould suit you, it is true although 
 
 'tis queer. 
 And 'twill pain me, but I'll tell it if you think you'd care 
 to hear. 
 
 You must know that I've a daughter who is very dear 
 
 to me, 
 She is pretty, though I say it, and as winsome as 
 
 can be ; 
 I have no one else to care for, so as you may well 
 
 infer, 
 I became extremely careful who I let come courting her. 
 
LOST AND FOUND. 6l 
 
 But with all my jealous watching I was foiled a month 
 
 ago, 
 For a dashing , handsome fellow that my Rose had got to 
 
 know, 
 Used to call when I was absent, and by means of 
 
 flattery's art 
 Led her to desert her father and to blight her own young 
 
 heart. 
 
 Well, I searched all London over, but my trouble was 
 in vain, 
 
 And, heart-broken, I concluded we should never meet 
 again ; 
 
 Maybe but for chance we shouldn't — "chance," I said, 
 but who can say 
 
 But that when my means were failing Providence sup- 
 plied a way ? 
 
 I was waiting here one morning, business being rather 
 
 slow. 
 When a stranger came and asked me if I were engaged 
 
 or no, 
 And when he had heard my answer, he a letter gave 
 
 to me. 
 With instructions where to take it, and a pretty decent 
 
 fee. 
 
62 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 Off I started with the missive, which I noticed was 
 
 addressed 
 To a lady who was staying- at a boarding-house up 
 
 West, 
 And I felt somewhat elated, for as near as I could 
 
 tell 
 Mine was quite an easy errand, and would pay me fairly 
 
 well. 
 
 I was thinking- of my Rosie as I neared the quiet 
 
 street, 
 Wondering whether, if I found her, she would be as fair 
 
 and sweet 
 As she was before she left me — wond'ring- if she'd ever 
 
 be 
 Just the same true-hearted daughter and as deeply fond 
 
 of me. 
 
 I had reached my destination, and I gave a postman's 
 
 knock ; 
 Quick as thought the door was opened — back I started 
 
 with the shock, 
 For I saw upon the threshold — ah 1 I doubt not you have 
 
 guessed — 
 Twas my Rose, and in a second she was folded to my 
 
 breast. 
 
LOST AND FOUND. 63 
 
 She was quivering- like an aspen ; though she tried she 
 
 could not speak, 
 I could see that she had suffered and repented of her 
 
 freak. 
 " Rose," I said, "thank God your father loves and trusts 
 
 you just the same ; 
 Let him help you in the future to redeem a tarnished 
 
 name." 
 
 Then she told her story sadly ; how that she'd been led 
 
 away 
 By the villain's flattering- promise that he'd marry her 
 
 one day ; 
 How at first she trusted in him, and the way seemed 
 
 bright and fair, 
 How at length she saw her folly and was seized with 
 
 grim despiair. 
 
 ^Twas her letter I was bringing, written by the wretch 
 
 himself ; 
 He, like children, tired of playthings, and would throw 
 
 them " on the shelf." 
 I trampled on his vile excuses, looked with grateful eyes 
 
 above, 
 And murmured, " God be thanked ! my Rose is sheltered 
 
 by a father's love." 
 
A BRAVE WOMAN. 
 
 TALKED with a stalwart young- seaman last 
 
 week on Ratcliffe Highway ; 
 He belong-ed to the crew of a steamer that wa s 
 wrecked in Aberdour Bay. 
 And I asked him if he would mind telling- the way he was 
 
 saved from the sea ? 
 Then (excepting the rhyme) he narrated the following- 
 story to me : — 
 
 •' Well, you see, we had started for home, sir, and were 
 
 anxious to get on our way ; 
 When it came on to blow big guns, sir, as we stood off 
 
 Aberdour Bay. 
 But our craft was so sturdy a steamer, that we laughed 
 
 and thought light of the gale, 
 For no matter how angry the weather, we never had 
 
 known her to fail. 
 
A BRAVE WOMAN 65 
 
 " But accidents weaken the strongest, and our skipper's 
 
 brown face grew long, 
 When a message came up from below, sir, 'that the 
 
 engines had all gone wrong,' 
 Then we set to and hoisted what canvas we thought that 
 
 the vessel would'bear. 
 And tried to beat clear of the bay, sir, for the gale was 
 
 driving in there. , 
 
 '• But, no ; it was useless our trying, for the wind blew so 
 
 frightfully hard. 
 That on to the shore, to leeward, the ship drifted yard 
 
 after yard. 
 The skipper roared, ' Let go the anchor ! ' We did so, our 
 
 drifting was checked ; 
 But we knew if the cable should snap, sir, the ship would 
 
 be certainly wrecked. 
 
 " The billows dashed over, around us, as though mad that 
 
 we held our own ; 
 Then ' crack!' 'hvas the cable parting, and our hearts seemed 
 
 turned into stone. 
 Once more we were driven shorewards, this time at a 
 
 furious rate ; 
 There was nothing could possibly check us, so the steamer 
 
 rushed on to her fate. 
 
as LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 " Then we felt her quiver and shudder, as she struck on 
 
 the pebbly beach, 
 And we looked with despair at the shore, sir, that, living;, 
 
 we could not reach ; 
 Fof the surf was boiling- and hissing, and dashing with all 
 
 its force, 
 And no man could have swum to the land, sir, not if 
 
 he'd the strength of a horse. 
 
 " There was only one woman ashore there, and we'd 
 
 hardly a glimmer of hope, 
 Yet I managed to screw up my spirits, and determined to 
 
 throw her a rope ; 
 I tried, but too great was the distance ; and, despairing, 1 
 
 saw it fall short ; 
 But that woman, dashed into the surf, sir, and the next 
 
 time I threw it 'twas caught. 
 
 "God bless her! she caught up that rope, sir, and in 
 
 spite of the boisterous sea. 
 She wound it three times round her body, and up from the 
 
 water went she ; 
 And she beckoned us each to come quickly, but we thought 
 
 that 'twould be but in vain ; 
 For no woman alive,' we murmured,' ' can stand such a 
 
 terrible strain !' 
 
A BRAVE WOMAN. 67 
 
 " But yet we would try, for 'twas certain delay meant a 
 
 terrible death ; 
 So we started a man on the voyage, whilst the rest of the 
 
 crew held their breath. 
 There, ' hand over hand ' he travelled, whilst as firm as a 
 
 rock stood she, 
 Till at length the seamen was saved, sir, from the clutch 
 
 of the merciless sea. 
 
 "Then one after the other we followed, till the whole of 
 
 the crew were on land. 
 Oh ! you ought to have seen us struggling for a grasp of 
 
 that brave woman's hand 1 
 It may seem very foolish to you, sir, but I felt almost ready 
 
 to cry; 
 And there wasn't a sailor amongst us but what had a tear 
 
 in his eye. 
 
 ''I know ev'ry true-hearted Briton will praise this true 
 
 herciine's act; 
 It isn't a jumble of fiction, but a plain, undeniable fact. 
 I declare she's as plucky a woman as any of which I have 
 
 read ; 
 Quite fit to take rank with Grace Darling and the Women 
 
 of Mumbles Head. 
 
AN IDIOT'S GALLANTRY. 
 
 'YE see "that peculiar object there, standing 
 against the lamp ; 
 That one with gawky limbs, sir, and face of an 
 idiot stamp ? 
 That's Jerry, as brave a young fellow as ever I wish tff 
 
 know, 
 I'll tell you a story about him, if you're in no hurry 
 to go. 
 
 You know he's a little bit silly, his head-piece has always 
 
 been wrong ; 
 But though he is weak in the brain, sir, his limbs are 
 
 amazingly strong. 
 He's simple and quiet enough, sir, unless he is bustled 
 
 about, 
 And then without any exertion he puts his tormentors 
 
 to rout. 
 
AN IDIOT'S GALLANTRY. 69 
 
 You've heard how they often take fancies— peculiar 
 fancies, you know ? 
 
 Well, Jerry was taken with one, sir, ten days or d. fort- 
 night ago. 
 
 For a sweet little golden-haired lassie had met him one 
 morning and smiled. 
 
 So from then he conceived it his duty to guard and watch 
 over the child. 
 
 He found where she lived, in the square, sir, and every 
 
 day he'd be there, 
 And watch her go out in the morning with her nurse in 
 
 a carriage and pair. 
 The horses were capital " steppers," but Jerry could run 
 
 like the wind, 
 And just like a dog he would follow at some little distance 
 
 behind. 
 
 If she didn't go out, he would watch, sir, for hours and 
 
 would never stir ; 
 'Twas well that her friend and protector became so 
 
 devoted to her ; 
 For the time soon came when she needed his strength 
 
 and devotion most. 
 And lucky for her that young Jerry was found at his 
 
 favourite post. 
 
70 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 She went for her drive one morning, with Jerry 
 
 a-trotting- behind, 
 The pace of the horses was rapid, but he didn't seem 
 
 for to mind. 
 When, just as they got to the Park, sir, the horses were 
 
 seized with a fright, 
 And, in spite of the coachman, they turned, sir, and 
 
 bolted with all their might. 
 
 Their iron-shod hoofs struck fire, sir, as they dashed 
 
 towards Jerry like mad, 
 And I shivered and muttered a prayer for the simple^ 
 
 idiot lad. 
 But still as a statue he stood, sir, till he almost felt their 
 
 breath, 
 When he swerved, then clutched their bridles, and stuck 
 
 to them like grim death. 
 
 Full many a yard they dragged him, but his sinews 
 
 began to tell, 
 As he tugged at their bits his hardest, and struck at 
 
 their heads as well. 
 They tried, but they couldn't resist him, his blows were 
 
 far worse than the whip, 
 And finally they gave in, sir, to his powerful, vice-like 
 
 grip- 
 
AN IDIOT'S GALLANTRY. 71 
 
 Jerry took to his heels and ran, sir, when he knew that 
 
 the child was saved ; 
 'Twas only for her he had acted, and a horrible death 
 
 had braved. 
 They offered him money ; he laughed, sir, and refused 
 
 in his simple style. 
 For the only reward he cared for was the little one's 
 
 grateful smile. 
 
 Folks say it was purely his madness that caused him to 
 
 seize the reins ; 
 I think that a gleam of reason shot into his clouded 
 
 brains. 
 He might have got out of the way, sir, but he stood like a 
 
 lump of stone. 
 Then struggled to save her life, sir, at the risk of losing 
 
 his own. 
 
HUNTING A MADMAN. 
 
 ON'T say that you think me courageous, for 
 that's an assertion I doubt, 
 I did what I thought was my duty, and it's 
 nought to go boasting about. 
 I will tell you the truth of the story, and I think you will 
 
 easily see 
 There is nothing about the achievement to give any 
 honour to me. 
 
 I was up at my station one morning, attending to trains 
 
 as they came, 
 And as I was crossing the line, sir, I heard some one call 
 
 me by name ; 
 I turned and beheld an old schoolmate, who was up on 
 
 the platform behind, 
 Who said he was going to London with a gent who was 
 
 out of his mind. 
 
HUNTING A MADMAN. 73 
 
 The madman was standing beside him, as quiet and 
 
 meek as could be, 
 He looked- quite as sane as his keeper, as he courteously 
 
 nodded to me ; 
 And my friend said at times he was harmless, whilst 
 
 at others his fury was such 
 That a person unused to such people would be just like 
 
 a child in his clutch. 
 
 Then a down train ran into the station, and I had to cross 
 
 over the line, ' 
 But when it had gone I returned, sir, when I saw that 
 
 old schoolmate of mine 
 Fall, struck by the hand of the madman. I took in the 
 
 scene at a glance. 
 As the madman leaped on to the rails, sir, to make the 
 
 best use of his chance. 
 
 I thought it was right to pursue him, so I went for him 
 
 just like a shot, 
 For I feared what would happen to him, sir, if into the 
 
 the tunnel he got. 
 On he went, without halting an instant, right into the 
 
 darkness and gloom, 
 While I ran like the wind, sir, to save him from meeting 
 
 a horrible doom. 
 
74 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 The up train was due in a minute — how I hoped I might 
 
 reach him ere then ! 
 Then the thought of his strength burst upon me, for I'm 
 
 not the strongest of men ; 
 Still, I wouldn't go back, I would risk it, and put up with 
 
 a bit of a strife. 
 If I could but reach him and keep him from foolishly 
 
 losing his life. 
 
 Directly I entered the tunnel I was caught in a terrible 
 
 grip. 
 And I lost all hope as my captor clutched my throat in 
 
 a vice -like nip. 
 Yet I struggled as well as I could, sir, and I managed ta 
 
 loosen his clasp. 
 But he flew at me then like a tiger, and again I was 
 
 tight in his grasp. 
 
 I heard the loud screech of the engine as the up train 
 
 came dashing along, 
 And I fought with my foe like a trooper, but the madman 
 
 was terribly strong. 
 Down, down, I was forced to the ground, sir, and my 
 
 heart was beginning to quail, 
 While the lunatic grinned as he held me on the dangerous 
 
 up line of rail. 
 
HUNTING A MADMAN. 75 
 
 I could see the red light of the engine as it shone through 
 
 the thick, murky gloom ; 
 Along came the train, and I shuddered as I thought of 
 
 our terrible doom. 
 All at once the man noticed the light, sir, and I fancied 
 
 his grasp grew slack. 
 So, exerting myself, I sprang upwards, and sent him' 
 
 right on to his back. 
 
 I had thrown him quite clear of the metals, and I quickly 
 
 avoided the train. 
 Ere it swiftly rushed over the spot, sir, where a moment 
 
 ago I had lain. 
 How thankful I felt you may guess, sir, my peril had not 
 
 been in vain. 
 For in less th2Ln two minutes the madman was safe with 
 
 his keeper again. 
 
AT THE WORKHOUSE GATE. 
 
 OLLY, my lass, I'm a coward, for the very first 
 time in my life, 
 For I haven't the pluck to enter, and be parted 
 from you, old wife. 
 Long- years we've besn linked together, and come foul 
 
 weather or fair, 
 We've never lost sight of each other, but we shall if we 
 go in there. 
 
 D'ye think of the years gone by, dear, since the time 
 
 that I courted you, 
 When down the lanes in the country like the birds 
 
 we'd bill and coo ; 
 And the night when I said I loved yer, and yer promised 
 
 to be my wife, 
 And when both of us vowed we'd never be parted in this 
 
 'ere life ? 
 
AT THE WORKHOUSE GATE. 77 
 
 D'ye mind when we came to London, with hopes that 
 
 were full and bright, 
 And how hard we laboured together from morning till 
 
 late at night ? 
 The money came rolling in quickly, and we carefully put 
 
 it away, 
 But'twas swamped in that rascally failure, and we have n't 
 
 a farthing to-day ! 
 
 Then I met with my accident, Molly, and quite lost the 
 
 use of my arm, 
 I shall never forget, njy old darling, how you nursed me 
 
 so tender and calm ; 
 Why, I couldn't feel pain with your nui sing, your ways 
 
 were so cheery like, 
 Though you were sorely tried, lass, by your restless, 
 
 fidgetty Mike. 
 
 Ah I since that unlucky tumble we've been kept on eC 
 
 downward course ; 
 It seems as though we've been crushed, lass, by some 
 
 hidden, powerful force. 
 Till now, though we've fought and struggled, and every 
 
 move we've tried, 
 Yet, we're close to the workhouse threshold — one step, 
 
 and we stand inside. 
 
78 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 They tell me it's warm in there, wife, and they gives yer 
 
 some food to eat, 
 There's a snug little bed to sleep in, and togs that are 
 
 clean and neat. 
 Maybe its the truth that they tell me ; but, still, it would 
 
 break my heart. 
 Though the place were a heavenly mansion, if you, dear, 
 
 and I must part. 
 
 Tis strange in a place like England, that people should so 
 
 forget. 
 That humaii love gets stronger, the nearer the grave 
 
 we get ; 
 And they ought to allow an old couple, who are used to 
 
 each other's ways, 
 To be happy in sight of each other the rest o' their 
 
 natural days. 
 
 Come, wife, it is getting so chilly ; shall we venture inside 
 
 or no ? 
 'Twill be hard for me, but for your sake, if you say the 
 
 word we'll go. 
 Maybe they'll let me see you on a proper visiting 
 
 day — 
 I leave it with you, old Molly, 'tis for you to say yea or 
 
 nay. 
 
AT THE WORKHOUSE GATE. 79 
 
 No I Do you mean it, Molly ? You would sooner stay 
 
 outside, 
 And, living-, or starving, you'd rather keep close to your 
 
 old Mike's side ? 
 God bless you, old dear! then together we'll live, and 
 
 together we'll die ; 
 And we'll meet in the land of plenty I've heard of beyond 
 
 the sky. 
 
THE VICTORIA CROSS. 
 
 ^BmHO is that g-ent in the carriage, and why did he 
 % vra! nod to me ? 
 
 He once was a cpmrade of mine, sir, and fought 
 by my side, d'ye see, 
 He's a noble young fellow, and handsome, with none of 
 
 your paltry pride ; 
 I'll tell you a bit of his story, if you care just to step 
 inside. 
 
 Soon after he entered the regiment a lady was sweet on 
 
 our Jack ; 
 She was pretty, and young, with money^ and he couldn't 
 
 help loving her back. 
 But he suffered for this, his presumption, for the adjutant 
 
 worshipped her, too. 
 And, of course, he came down on the private and worried 
 
 him all he knew. 
 
THE VICTORIA CROSS. 81 
 
 However, Jack bore it all bravely, and courted the lady 
 
 the while, 
 While we who were up to the story, would oft at the 
 
 adjutant smile. 
 For he couldn't conceal his displeasure, and hib every look 
 
 seemed to say — 
 " All right, my fine, tender young fellow, I'll be even with 
 
 you some day." 
 
 Then a war broke out and the regiment was sent to a 
 
 different clime, 
 To the lady, our Jack, and his rival, no doubt 'twas a 
 
 serious time. 
 But affairs of the heart have to wait, sir, when soldiers 
 
 are ordered to fight. 
 Still the strongest of love gets stronger when its objects is 
 
 out of sight. 
 
 We'd been out for just over a month, sir, when the enemy, 
 
 thousands strong, 
 Showed over the heights in front, sir, and harassed us all 
 
 day long. 
 We shelled them and tried many dodges, but all were of 
 
 little avail, 
 And we lay down to sleep that evening exposed to the 
 
 foe's leaden hail. 
 
 G 
 
82 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 Next morning the foeman descended and charged us with 
 
 sword and spear, 
 While we mowed them down with our rifles to the tune of 
 
 a rattling cheer. 
 But the rest came on like a whirlwind to crush our 
 
 compact little band, 
 And with courage that couldn't be slighted they fought 
 
 with us hand to hand. 
 
 Jack and I stood shoulder to shoulder — we were right in 
 
 the thick of the fight, 
 And the adjutant, too, was quite near us, a slashing out 
 
 left and right. 
 But he suddenly fell — Jack saw him, and uttered a loud, 
 
 sharp cry ; 
 Then he rushed from my side, in an instant, to succour 
 
 his rival or die. 
 
 As he dashed to the crowd I shuddered, but his arms 
 
 were brawny and strong, 
 And back from his prostrate rival he scattered the dusky 
 
 throng. 
 He was bleeding from many a wound, sir, but still he 
 
 kept fighting away, 
 Till his comrades came up to assist him, and speedily 
 
 settled the fray. 
 
THE VTCTORIA CROSS. 83 
 
 He gained the Victoria Cross, sir ; none ever deserved it 
 
 more, 
 But it wasn't by this distinction that our hero set much 
 
 store ; 
 For he won, when he nobly darted to the wounded 
 
 officer's side, 
 The friendship of all the regiment, and a wealthy, fair, 
 
 young bride. 
 
A MOTHER'S CRY. 
 
 jlHAT a strug-gle 'tis to live, 
 
 In this grasping-, harassing- age ; 
 Though I'm stitching away through the live 
 long day 
 I can earn but a paltry wage. 
 Stitching, stitching — two children have I, 
 To be clothed, and warmed, and fed. 
 So in sorrow and pain, with a reeling brain, 
 I stitch for my children's bread. 
 
 To the poorhouse I cannot go — 
 
 I should die of a broken heart. 
 
 So I'll turn my face from that pitiless place 
 
 Where my children and I must part. 
 
 Stitching — stitching — together we'll stay, 
 
 And live by the needle and thread ; 
 
 For as long as I've breathy I'll fight grim death, 
 
 And stitch for my children's bread. 
 
A MOTHER'S CRY. 85 
 
 It's my health and strength I need ; 
 
 Had I these I would never complain, 
 
 But I'm tired, and faint, through an old complaint, 
 
 And I seldom am free from pain. 
 
 Stitching — stitching — from dawn of day, 
 
 Till the midnight hours have sped. 
 
 With an aching heart, and fingers that smart, 
 
 I stitch for my children's bread. 
 
 "Hark ! my babies with hunger cry — 
 
 Help me, God ! to struggle on still. 
 
 As I stitch, stitch, stitch, to make men rich, 
 
 Whilst I'm starving, and cold, and ill. 
 
 Stitching — stitching — while eyelids droop. 
 
 And while burning tears I shed, 
 
 Far into the night, by a candle's light, 
 
 I stitch for my children's bread. 
 
 Oh, that I might rest awhile 
 
 From this wearing, worrying work ! 
 
 But this fact I dread : no work, no bread, 
 
 And my stitching I dare not shirk. 
 
 Stitching— stitching— the night begins. 
 
 The long cold nights I dread ; 
 
 And half in the grave, I work, and slave, 
 
 And stitch for my children's bread. 
 
86 
 
 LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 I feel as if death were near, 
 So exhausted and chilled am I ; 
 And I shudder and shrink, as I strive to think 
 How the babes will fare when I die, 
 Stitching- — dyingf —my work not done — 
 If to-morrow should find me dead, 
 God help the rich, when I cannot stitch 
 To provide for my children bread. 
 
THE MODERN SCHOOLBOY. 
 
 E sits in the great big school, 
 With a face so thin and pale, 
 Striving- to cram for the next exam., 
 For he knows he must not fail. 
 He is hungry, and cold, and faint, 
 
 He would be a scholar, but can't ; 
 Yet he toils to earn for his teacher stern, 
 A larger Government grant. 
 
 No breakfast again to-day 
 
 (For father is out of work) ; 
 His clothes are old and the day is cold, 
 
 But lessons he dare not shirk. 
 Grammar, and science, and sums. 
 
 Botany, Latin, and Greek ; 
 Over these and more he must sit and pore, 
 
 Though his brain be dizzy and weak. 
 
LAYS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 How hard he strives to learn ! 
 
 But flesh and blood are weak, 
 And the tear-drops chase down his careworn face 
 
 As he looks at the ditficult Greek. 
 Oh, what a banquet is there 
 
 For the scholar of classical lore ! 
 But to this poor lad so hungry and sad, 
 
 A crust would be worth far more. 
 
 He knows he is not too wise. 
 
 And he dare not get behind ; 
 So with might and main he strives again 
 
 To feast on the food for mind. 
 But his eyes grow heavy and dim, 
 
 And his face wears a hopeless look, 
 While with aching head, and longing for bread,. 
 
 He scans the perplexing book. 
 
 Scarce ten years old is he, 
 
 Yet he seems a stunted man, 
 For his face, once fair, is worn with care, 
 
 On the mighty School Board plan. 
 His blue eyes, once so bright, 
 
 Are heavy, and dull, and dim. 
 While his heart, once gay, is seared to-day,. 
 
 And all through a Parliament whim. 
 
HOPE ON ! 
 
 OPE on ! though gloomy clouds are gath'ring 
 o'er thee, 
 And all above, around, is dark and chill, 
 Thou know'st not what bright paths are yet before 
 thee ; 
 Dismiss thy fears! press onward, hoping still. 
 
 Hope on ! when life seems dreary, dull, and cheerless- 
 Hope on ! for happy days will come again ; 
 
 We cannot wish our lives for ever tearless. 
 For brightest sunshine follows after rain. 
 
 Hope on ! when storms of fierce vindictive rancour 
 Strive hard to cast thee on the dread lee-shore; 
 
 Hope on ! and let go Hope's strong trusty anchor. 
 Then wait with patience till the storms blow o'er 
 
go HOPE on: 
 
 Hope on ! when thou thy fragile bark art steering 
 
 'Mid rocks, and shallows, and in currents swift — 
 
 Hope on ! and let this thought be sweet and cheering: 
 With Hope for helmsman thou wilt never drift. 
 
 Hope on ! though men are cold and unforgiving, 
 Think not the world no sympathy contains ; 
 
 Warm, loving hearts there are among the living. 
 That throb with pity for a neighbour's pains. 
 
 Hope on ! when life seems hardly worth defending. 
 When hope is drooping and when love has fled; 
 
 Hope on ! the darkest day must have an ending. 
 Revive the joy that sleeps, but is not Head ! 
 
 Hope on ! dispel each gloomy, vague repining. 
 
 Look upward ! full of faith, and hope, and love ; 
 
 Then through the cloud- rifts where the sun is shining, 
 Thou'lt catch a glimpse of glorious Hope above. 
 
 BuET k Sons, Printers. 58, Poi cliestev Road, W., and l.S, Poland Street, Oxford Street. 
 
PR5110.N26Lr"'""'™"'"-"'"'^ 
 ■-ays of the people, chiefly from the "peo 
 
 3 1924 013 529 676