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THE BISHOP AND THE 
 CATERPILLAR - 
 
 AND OTHER PIECES. 
 
Digitized by tlie Internet Arcliive 
 
 in 2007 witli funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 littp://www.arcli ive.org/details/bisliopcaterpillaOOmanniala 
 
THE J^ISHOP AND THE 
 CATERPILLAR 
 
 (As Recited by Mr. Brandram) PJO 
 
 AND OTHER PIECES^ *117-^ 
 
 ' 6S 
 
 BY 
 
 MARY E. MANNERS 
 
 ILontiott : 
 JAMES CLARKE & CO., 13 & 14, FLEET STREET. 
 
 1892, 
 
2)ebtcatc& 
 
 (By Permission) 
 
 TO 
 
 LEWIS CARROL, 
 
 IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE 
 
 OF MANY HAPPY HOURS 
 
 SPENT IN 
 
 " WONDERLAND." 
 
 Carrol! Accept the heartfelt thanks 
 
 Of children of all ages. 
 Of those who long have left their ranks. 
 
 Yet still must love the pages 
 Written by him whose magic wand 
 Called up the scenes of " Wonderland." 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The whole of these poems, with the exception of 
 the last four, will be familiar to the readers of 
 The Boy's Own Paper* having appeared at intervals 
 in the pages of that periodical, from which they 
 are now reprinted by special permission. The 
 exceptions have been collected from various sources, 
 and several have made their de'but at the social 
 gatherings of an Essay Meeting composed of 
 members of the "Society of Friends," whose kindly 
 appreciation first encouraged me to hope that the 
 pieces might be found suitable for reading and 
 recitation by a wider circle of friends (with or 
 without the capital " F "). " The Bishop and the 
 
 * The Boy's Own Paper, which was started by the Religious Tract 
 Society, 56, Paterroster Row, to provide high-class literature for 
 boys, has long b(en quite a household word in every part of the 
 English-speaking world. 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 Caterpillar" has, I understand, been largely used 
 for this purpose. 
 
 For the rest, my enjoyment of the mysterious 
 title of "Anon " has been almost equal to Mark 
 Tapley's wonder at finding himself transformed 
 into a " Co." ; but I am told that this dignity is 
 no longer a desirable one ; so it is with even 
 greater pleasure that I subscribe myself to all who 
 are interested in the matter as 
 
 Their sincere well-wisher, 
 
 MARY E. MANNERS. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Bishop and the Caterpillar 
 
 A Holiday Story for Boys — and their Uncles ! 
 
 Count Rudolph's Beard 
 
 Brimmacum's Umbrella 
 
 Brimmacum's Wedding 
 
 Pickled Cockles 
 
 The Quaker and the Fairy 
 
 A Romance of a Friend's Bonnet 
 
 The King's Pudding 
 
 Dorothy 
 
 PAGE 
 I 
 
 .. II 
 
 ... 23 
 
 ••• 33 
 
 ••• 45 
 
 ... 59 
 
 ... 69 
 
 ... 78 
 
 ... 8s 
 
 ... 89 
 
THE BISHOP AND THE 
 CATERPILLAR. 
 
 The Bishop sat in the Schoolmaster's chair : 
 The Rector, and Curates two, were there, 
 
 The Doctor, the Squire, 
 
 The heads of the Choir, 
 And the Gentry around of high degree, 
 A highly distinguished company; 
 For the Bishop was greatly beloved in his See ! 
 
 And there, below, 
 
 A goodly show, 
 Their faces with soap and with pleasure aglow, 
 Sat the dear little school-children, row upon row ; 
 For the Bishop had said ('twas the death-blow to 
 
 schism). 
 He would hear those dear children their Catechism. 
 
 And then to complete 
 
 The pleasure so sweet 
 
 1 
 
2 THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR. 
 
 Of these nice little children so pretty and neat, 
 He'd invited them to a magnificent treat ! 
 And filled were the minds of these dear little ones 
 With visions of cakes, and of "gay Sally Lunns," 
 Of oceans of tea, and unlimited buns 
 (The large ones called " Bath," not the plain penny 
 ones). 
 
 I think I have read, 
 
 Or at least heard it said : 
 " Boys are always in mischief, unless they're in bed." 
 
 I put it to you, 
 
 I don't say it's true, 
 But if you should ask for my own private view, 
 I should answer at once, without further ado : 
 " I don't think a boy can be trusted to keep 
 From mischief in bed — unless he's asleep 1 " 
 
 But the Schoolmaster's eye hath a magic spell, 
 And the boys were behaving remarkably well — 
 For boys ; and the girls — but 'tis needless to say 
 Their conduct was perfect in every way ; 
 For I'm sure 'tis well known in all ranks of society. 
 That girls always behave with the utmost propriety. 
 
 ' Now the Bishop arises, and waves his hand ; 
 And the children prepared for his questions stand ; 
 
THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR. 3 
 
 >" With admiring eyes his form they scan ; 
 He was a remarkably fine-looking man ! 
 His apron was silk of the blackest dye, 
 His lawn the finest money could buy ; 
 His sleeves and his ruffles than snow were whiter, 
 He'd his best shovel-hat, and his second-best 
 
 mitre. 
 With benignant glance he gazed around — 
 You might have heard the slightest sound ! — 
 With dignified mien and solemn look 
 He slowly opened his ponderous book, 
 And proceeded at once the knowledge to try 
 Of those nice little children standing by. 
 
 Each child knew its name. 
 And who gave it the same. 
 And all the rest of the questions profound 
 Which his Lordship was pleased to the school to 
 
 propound. 
 Nor less did secular knowledge abound. 
 For the Bishop, to his great pleasure, found 
 That they knew the date when our Queen was 
 
 crowned, 
 And the number of pence which make up a pound ; 
 And the oceans and seas which our island bound ; 
 That the earth is nearly, but not quite, round ; 
 Their orthography, also, was equally sound, 
 
4 THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR. 
 
 And the Bishop, at last, completely astound- 
 
 Ed, cried. 
 
 In a tone of pride, 
 " You bright little dears, no question can trouble you, 
 You've spelled knife with a k^ and wrong with a w. 
 
 " And now that my pleasing task's at an end, 
 
 I trust you will make of me a friend : 
 
 You've answered my questions, and 'tis but fair 
 
 That I in replying should take a share ; 
 
 So if there is aught you would like to know. 
 
 Pray ask me about it before I go. 
 
 I'm sure it would give me the greatest pleasure 
 
 To add to your knowledge, for learning's a treasure 
 
 Which you never can lose, and which no one can 
 
 steal ; 
 It grows by imparting, so do not feel 
 Afraid or shy. 
 But boldly try. 
 Which is the cleverer, you or I ! " 
 Thus amusement with learning judiciously blending, 
 His Lordship made of his speech an ending. 
 And a murmur went round of " How condescend- 
 ing ! " 
 
 But one bright little boy didn't care a jot 
 If his Lordship were condescending or not ; 
 
THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR. 5 
 
 For, with scarce a pause 
 For the sounds of applause, 
 He raised his head, 
 And abruptly said : 
 " How many legs has a Caterpillar got ? " 
 
 Now the Bishop was a learned man, 
 
 Bishops always were since the race began, 
 
 But his knowledge in that particular line 
 
 Was less than yours, and no greater than mine ; 
 
 And, except that he knew the creature could crawl. 
 
 He knew nothing about its legs at all — 
 
 Whether the number were great or small, 
 
 One hundred, or five, or sixty, or six, — 
 
 So he felt in a " pretty consid'rable fix ! " 
 
 But, resolving his ignorance to hide. 
 
 In measured tones he thus replied : 
 
 " The Caterpillar, my dear little boy, 
 
 Is an emblem of life and a vision of joy ! 
 
 It bursts from its shell on a bright green leaf, 
 
 It knows no care and it feels no grief" 
 
 Then he turned to the Rector and whispered low, - 
 
 " Mr. Rector, how many ? You surely must know." 
 
 But the Rector gravely shook his head, 
 
 He hadn't the faintest idea, he said. 
 
 So the Bishop turned to the class again, 
 
 And in tones paternal took up the strain : 
 
6 THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR. 
 
 " The Caterpillar, dear children, see. 
 
 On its bright green leaf from care lives free. 
 
 And it eats, and eats, and grows bigger and bigger, 
 
 (Perhaps the Curates can state the figure ?) " 
 
 But the Curates couldn't ; the Bishop went on. 
 
 Though he felt that another chance was gone. 
 
 " So it eats, and eats, and it grows and grows, 
 (Just ask the Schoolmaster if he knows.)" 
 But the Schoolmaster said that that kind of know- 
 ledge 
 Was not the sort he had learned at college. 
 " And when it has eaten enough, then soon 
 It spins for itself a soft cocoon, 
 And then it becomes a chrysalis — 
 I wonder which child can spell me this ? 
 'Tis rather a difficult word to spell — 
 (Just ask the Schoolmistress if she can tell.) " 
 But the Schoolmistress said, as she shook her grey- 
 curls, 
 "She considered such things were not proper for 
 girls." 
 
 The word was spelled, and spelled quite right, 
 Those nice little boys were so awfully bright ! 
 And the Bishop began to get into a fright, 
 His face grew red — it was formerly white — 
 
THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR. 7 
 
 And the hair on his head stood nearly upright ; 
 
 He was almost inclined to take refuge in flight, 
 
 But he thought that would be too shocking a sight ; 
 
 He was at his wits' end — nearly — not quite, 
 
 For the Pupil Teachers caught his eye. 
 
 He thought they might know — at least he would 
 
 try- 
 Then he anxiously waited for their reply : 
 But the Pupil Teachers enjoyed the fun, 
 And they wouldn't have told if they could have done. 
 
 So he said to the Beadle, " Go down in the street, 
 And stop all the people you chance to meet, 
 
 I don't care who, 
 
 Any one will do ; 
 The old woman selling lollipops. 
 The little boys playing with marbles and tops, 
 Or respectable people who deal at the shops ; 
 The crossing-sweeper, the organ-grinder, 
 Or the fortune-teller, if you can find her. 
 
 Ask any or all, 
 
 Short or tall, 
 Great or small, it matters not — 
 How many legs has a Caterpillar got ? " 
 The Beadle bowed, and was oflf like a shot 
 From a pop-gun fired, or that classical arrow 
 Which flew from the bow of the wicked cock-sparrow. 
 
8 THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR. 
 
 Now the Bishop again put on a smile, 
 
 And the children, who had been waiting meanwhile, 
 
 In their innocent hearts imagined that these 
 
 Remarks applied 
 
 (They were spoken aside) 
 To the weighty affairs of the Diocese. 
 
 " The Caterpillar is doomed to sleep 
 For months — a slumber long and deep. 
 
 Brown and dead 
 
 It looks, 'tis said, 
 It never even requires to be fed ; 
 And, except that sometimes it waggles its head, 
 Your utmost efforts would surely fail 
 To distinguish the creature's head from its tail. 
 
 " But one morning in spring, 
 
 When the birds loudly sing, 
 And the earth is gay with blossoming ; 
 
 When the violets blue 
 
 Are wet with dew, 
 And the sky wears the sweetest cerulean hue ! 
 
 When on all is seen 
 
 The brightest sheen — 
 When the daisies are white, and the grass is green ; 
 
 Then the chrysalis breaks, 
 
 The insect awa,kes, — 
 
THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPILLAR. 9 
 
 To the realms of air its way it takes ; 
 
 It did not die, 
 
 It soars on high, 
 A bright and a beauteous butterfly ! " 
 
 Here he paused and wiped a tear from his eye ; 
 The Beadle was quietly standing by, 
 And perceiving the lecture had reached its close, 
 Whispered, softly and sadly, " Nobody knows ! " 
 
 The Bishop saw his last hope was vain, 
 
 But to make the best of it he was fain ; 
 
 So he added, " Dear children, we ever should be 
 
 Prepared to learn from all we see, 
 
 And beautiful thoughts of hope and joy 
 
 Fill the heart, I know, of each girl and boy ! 
 
 Oh, ponder on these, and you will not care 
 
 To know the exact allotted share 
 
 Of legs the creature possessed at its birth. 
 
 When it crawled, a mean worm, on this lowly earth. 
 
 Yet, if you know it, you now may tell, 
 
 Your answers so far have pleased me well." 
 
 Then he looked around with benignant eye, 
 Nor long did he wait for the reply. 
 For the bright little boy, with a countenance gay. 
 Said, " Six, for I counted 'em yesterday ! " 
 
lo THE BISHOP AND THE CATERPHLAR. 
 
 Moral. 
 
 ** To all who have children under their care," 
 
 Of two things, nay, three things, I pray you beware — 
 
 Don't give them too many ** unlimited buns," 
 
 Six each (Bath) is sufficient, or twelve penny ones ; 
 
 Don't let them go in for examination, 
 
 Unless you have given them due preparation. 
 
 Or the questions, asked with the kindest intention, 
 
 May be rather a strain on their powers of invention. 
 
 Don't pretend you know everything under the sun, 
 
 Though your school-days are ended, and theirs but 
 
 begun. 
 But honestly say, when the case is so, 
 " This thing, my dear children, I do not know ; " 
 For they really must learn, either slower or speedier 
 That you're not a walking Encyclopaedia ! 
 
A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS 
 -AND THEIR UNCLES! 
 
 OR, KING HENRY VIII. AND THE ABBOT OF 
 READING. 
 
 A LITTLE boy stood gazing at a pastrycook's fair 
 
 tray, 
 Where tarts, and puffs, and lollipops were spread in 
 
 sweet array. 
 He stood and gazed, but that was all, he could not 
 
 purchase any, 
 Because, like Simple Simon, he hadn't got a penny ; 
 When by there came an uncle, of broad and portly 
 
 trim, 
 And he looked down at his nephew, and his nephew 
 
 looked at him. 
 " My dearest boy," the uncle said, in solemn tone and 
 
 gruff, 
 "You really don't think you could eat all that un- 
 wholesome stuff ? " 
 
12 A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS— 
 
 '* Oh, uncle dear," in tones of cheer, that nephew- 
 made reply, 
 *' I don't quite know what I could do, but I should 
 
 like to try." 
 " Alas, alas ! " the uncle said, and rather sighed than 
 
 smiled, 
 *' I would I were again a boy, an artless, happy 
 
 child ! 
 What pure and simple pleasure from that stall I then 
 
 might buy, 
 But now I couldn't touch a tart, and I shouldn't 
 
 like to try." 
 The nephew stood expectant ; the uncle did not 
 
 mind ; 
 So the boy said, " Sir, in * Fuller ' a prescription you 
 
 will find." 
 The uncle turned him homewards with a slow and 
 
 heavy tread. 
 Then o'er a ponderous volume before him open 
 
 spread. 
 He sat and pored for many hours ; he did not go to 
 
 bed ; 
 And this, or something like it, was the story which he 
 
 read. 
 
 " Merry it is in the good greenwood. 
 When the mavis and merle are singing, 
 
AND THEIR UNCLES! 13 
 
 When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in 
 cry, 
 And the hunter's horn is ringing." 
 Thus cries Sir Walter, in heart-stirring song, 
 And I think you will say, 
 In a general way, 
 That the Bard of the North is " no that far wrong." 
 
 But 'tis not quite so merry, 
 
 Indeed it is very 
 Provoking and trying, to saint or to sinner. 
 
 When you find, to your cost. 
 
 That your way you have lost. 
 And that dinner-time's come, and brought with it no 
 
 dinner ; 
 While your friends are so far that nought 'twill avail ye 
 To sound the wild mort or the jolly reveille I 
 
 For James Fitz-James 
 The poet claims 
 That he didn't get cross and call his knights 
 "names ; " 
 
 And though it is clear 
 He had some cause for fear. 
 And the loss of his steed made him feel rather queer, 
 He said nothing worse than — " Beshrew yon wild 
 deer." 
 
14 A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS— 
 
 But King Hal the Bluff 
 
 Was of different stuff, 
 And his language and manners were both somewhat 
 
 rough, 
 So he fretted and fumed far more than enough, 
 Vowed his grand M. F. H. was " a regular muff," 
 And declared that not one of his dastardly train 
 Should ever go hunting with him again ! 
 
 Nor cooled was the fire 
 
 Of the monarch's ire ; 
 In fact, it flamed up considerably higher. 
 
 When — his exit made 
 
 From the forest glade 
 
 And the sylvan shade 
 Formed by lofty trees with their branches spreading. 
 
 He found that his ride 
 
 Had been towards the wrong side, 
 And instead of to Windsor had brought him to 
 Reading ! 
 
 He was burly and tall. 
 
 But he felt quite small, 
 As he thought how that moment in Windsor Hall, 
 The banquet was led by the seneschal. 
 And the vassals were feasting, one and all. 
 While their lord and master was far beyond call. 
 
AND THEIR UNCLES! 15 
 
 The thought was as bitter as wormwood and 
 
 gall! 
 And he wrathfully muttered, " I call it a shame; " 
 Though he knew he had only himself to blame. 
 For that morn he had tenderly said to his Kate, 
 " If I'm not home to dinner, love, pray do not 
 wait." 
 
 Stay, though, I can't state 
 
 Precisely the date 
 Of my story, and so I'm unable to fix 
 
 Which queen then did reign ; 
 
 If not Kate, 'tis plain 
 
 'Twas Anne, or else Jane, 
 For their names were but three, though their number 
 was six. 
 
 Oh, free and fair is Reading town ! 
 
 And rich and rare is her high renown 
 For biscuits, baked of a nice light brown 1 
 
 Mixed, milk, and Marie, 
 
 Rural, rusk, ratafia, 
 
 Toast, table, and tea. 
 
 Orange, Osborne, Oswego, and mild nursery, 
 With many more names, I'll not stop to rehearse, 
 For colonials and captains won't fit in my verse ; 
 Yet I think you'll agree that King Hal had been 
 calmer 
 
i6 A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS— 
 
 If in his knapsack 
 He'd the forethought to pack 
 Some few dozens of these — made by Huntley and 
 Palmer. 
 
 But Palmers then 
 
 Were a sort of men 
 Who wore cockle-shells and sandal shoon : 
 
 Carried staves and scrips, 
 
 Fed on haws and hips, 
 And shrank e'en from touching a macaroon. 
 Quoth the King, with a sigh, as one rudely awaked, 
 " Don't count on your biscuits before they are baked." 
 
 But stay, oh stay ! 
 
 That abbey grey. 
 
 On Forbery Hill, not far away. 
 Was built, so at least all the guide-books say. 
 By King Henry the First (surnamed Beaiiclerc) 
 As a penance for injuries done to his Frere 
 Duke Robert, King William's lawful heir. 
 
 Henry did not choose 
 
 To wear peas in his shoes. 
 Or to walk barefoot among brambles and briars. 
 
 So this abbey he built 
 
 To atone for his guilt, 
 And left to the rule of the Benedict Friars. 
 
AND THEIR UNCLES! 17 
 
 The stately pile was his glory and pride 
 
 While he lived, and they buried him there when he 
 
 died. 
 King Henry the Eighth, now relieved from anxiety. 
 Felt inclined to approve of his ancestor's piety. 
 
 Full sweet is the sound of the convent bell 
 As it ringeth clearly o'er wood and dell, 
 For it speaketh of peace, and of calm repose, 
 Of respite alike from friends and from foes. 
 From courtly pageants and empty shows, 
 From morning calls and similar woes, 
 From little girls wanting new Sunday clothes. 
 And boys with their boots always out at the toes ! 
 
 On the monarch's ear 
 
 Most sweet and clear, 
 With sound of hope and presage of cheer. 
 
 Fell the solemn swell 
 
 Of that abbey bell. 
 For it rang not for matins, nor yet for compline, 
 But it said very plainly, " Oh, come, come and dine." 
 And the King, spurring fast towards Forbery Hill, 
 Replied with great fervour, " Ay, marry, I will." 
 
 Now Bluff King Hal was fond of a joke. 
 So he took off his crown, popped it into his "poke," 
 And, disguising himself, merely sent in his card 
 
 2 
 
1 8 A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS— 
 
 As a "Yeoman, one of his Majesty's Guard," 
 
 And was quickly seated among the rest. 
 
 The Lord Abbot's own particular guest. 
 
 " For, good friend," thus remarked his lordship's grace, 
 
 " Thou bearest thy passport in figure andTace ; 
 
 'Twas ever thus, since his reign began. 
 
 Our royal master loveth a man" 
 
 Good St. Benedict 
 
 Was uncommonly strict, 
 And drew up his rules with the utmost decorum 
 (The monks often thought, on purpose to bore 'em) 
 In Latin, the Regula Monachorum. 
 
 " Poor fellow, you know. 
 
 He lived long ago ! " 
 Quoth the Abbot, " for our times his notions are 
 
 'slow.' 
 To adhere to these rules means simply starvation. 
 And I think 'tis allowed to one of my station 
 To give to the Latin a free translation ! " 
 
 So the King soon found 
 
 On looking around, 
 He'd no need to complain of the monkish board ; 
 
 For the table was filled. 
 
 Thus the Abbot willed, 
 With all dainties the farm or the field could afford. 
 
AND THEIR UNCLES! 19 
 
 There was chicken and ham, 
 
 And mint sauce and lamb, 
 Good things which no cook should e'er part in 
 sunder, but 
 
 What pleased the King most 
 
 Was the knightly roast, 
 A sirloin of beef, with a very prime undercut. 
 To make its acquaintance he was full fain, 
 'Twas cut, and come, and come again ! 
 
 The monks all gazed 
 
 At their guest amazed, 
 As his knife and fork played a yeoman's part ; 
 
 And when finished at last 
 
 Was the brave repast. 
 The Abbot exclaimed : " Well fare thy heart ! 
 Come, pledge me now this cup of sack 
 To thy master's health. May he never lack 
 Such men as thou to eat and to fight ! 
 If our properest men must needs be our chief eaters. 
 The royal warrant was surely right 
 Which named thee one of his Majesty's Beef-eaters 1 
 An hundred pounds would I gladly pay 
 Could / make such a meal as thou this day ! 
 
 But alas, with me, 
 Few things will agree. 
 
20 A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS— 
 
 To touch solid meat is rarely my habit ; 
 
 I scarce can digest 
 
 A slice from the breast 
 Of a tender chicken, or little young rabbit ! " 
 The King sympathised, tried to look tender-hearted. 
 Thanked his host for good cheer, and so departed. 
 
 Some weeks passed away, 
 
 Then, one sorrowful day 
 
 To that abbey grey 
 Came a messenger nobody dared disobey ; 
 A Royal Pursuivant, with warrant of power 
 To take the Lord Abbot at once to the Tower. 
 
 When there he was fed 
 
 Upon water and bread ; 
 He bewailed his hard fate ; many tears he shed, 
 He really did not feel sure that his head 
 Was safe on his shoulders, so great was his dread ; 
 And he spent all his time in trying to measure 
 The how and the why of the King's displeasure. 
 Yet he felt a sensation of joy and relief, 
 A welcome diversion from sorrow and grief, 
 
 When the warder at last, 
 
 To end his long fast, 
 Brought in a magnificent sirloin of beef. 
 
AH^D THEIR UNCLES! 2i 
 
 Then forgetting all fears of bodily harm, 
 He ate like a farmer just fresh from the farm, 
 No longer he shrank from beef or from mutton : 
 " Two hungry meals make the third a glutton." 
 
 King Hal, from a private lobby hard by, 
 On his lordship's actions had played the spy ; 
 And now springing in, he exclaimed with glee, 
 " How now, my Lord Abbot, right gladly I see 
 That my patient is cured, so pay me my fee ! 
 An hundred pounds of good red gold 
 Must upon this table be duly told, 
 Or the monks of Reading may wait in vain 
 To welcome their Lord Abbot home again." 
 
 The Abbot, full glad to be quit of his fright. 
 Obeyed with as good a grace as he might ; 
 Then reached down his crozier, and put on his mitre. 
 And went home with a heart and a purse somewhat 
 lighter. 
 
 The morning dawns, the uncle yawns, and shuts the 
 
 weighty book, 
 Then hies him to the fair abode of the tempting 
 
 pastrycook ; 
 
22 A HOLIDAY STORY FOR BOYS. 
 
 He purchases the stock-in-trade of cakes, and tarts, 
 
 and pies. 
 Then finds his gentle nephew, and unto him he cries, 
 " My dearest boy, eat all you can, and give the rest 
 
 away 
 Unto your youthful playfellows, so happy and so gay. 
 But oh, I pray, be moderate, or plainly I foresee, 
 'Tis you will need the doctor, and who then will pay 
 
 the fee ? " 
 Three ringing cheers the uncle hears, then turns him 
 
 to depart. 
 Yet beareth homeward for his share a large red- 
 currant tart ! 
 
COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 
 
 A TALE OF CHIVALRY. 
 
 Count Rudolph von Ratz was a noble knight, 
 
 Quite ready at all times to dance or to fight ; 
 
 His name was a terror to every foe, 
 
 His battle-axe dealt a most deadly blow ; 
 
 He usually fought with a dozen or so 
 
 At once, but that was the custom, you know. 
 
 In the knightly days of long ago, 
 
 When to fight with one man was accounted "low," 
 
 For a noble knight not at all comma ilfaut ! 
 
 While in softer mood, all the world would agree, 
 
 None bowed with more courtly grace than he, 
 
 Or more featly served, on his bended knee, 
 
 The ladies at tennis or afternoon tea. 
 
 In short, he was equally loved and feared ; 
 
 And besides, — he possessed such a gem of a beard ! 
 
 'Twas soft, and long. 
 
 And silky, and brown ; 
 The boast of the country, the talk of the town ; 
 
24 COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 
 
 The envy of many a beardless youth 
 
 Who dashed down razor, and groaned, forsooth, 
 
 In wan despair ! 
 
 For the unguents rare 
 Of Rowland, Latreille, or Professor Brown 
 
 Could never produce 
 
 E'en by constant use 
 Such a beard as grew, quite spontaneously, 
 On the chin of Count Rudolph, surnamed the Free ! 
 
 And many a maid heaved a secret sigh 
 
 As the knight on his coal-black steed rode by ; 
 
 And delicate fingers would often trace 
 
 On banner of silk, or cigarette case. 
 
 The arms that flashed on his silver shield, 
 
 The arms that none but he might wield : 
 
 Two hairy oobits proper upon a verdant field ! 
 
 But little recked he, 
 ' This knight so free. 
 Of youth who frowned, or of maid who sighed ; 
 And he laughed out loud as he gaily cried, 
 " Come weal, or come woe, the whole of my trade is 
 To fight all the knights, and to serve all the ladies ; 
 Yet nor knight nor maiden of high degree 
 Shall e'er boast of the capture of Rudolph the Free." 
 
COUJ^T RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 25 
 
 Full oft the pitcher may go to the well, 
 Yet one day ringeth its funeral knell ! 
 
 And " the god of love 
 
 Who sits above " 
 (So Shakespeare says, and he's always right) 
 Sent a shaft to the heart of the careless knight, 
 
 Who turned round quick 
 
 And, like Benedick, 
 Thus all tiresome jokes on the subject parried : 
 
 " When I vowed that I 
 
 Would a bachelor die, 
 I did not think I should live to be married ! " 
 
 On a " castled crag " by the " lonely Rhine " 
 Dwelt the lordly Baron von Blumenstein ; 
 And henchmen true 
 In doublets of blue, 
 Who mostly had nothing at all to do, 
 Stood waiting about, in doorway and hall, 
 In case the Baron should please to call, 
 "What ho, without there ! " (in tone of dread), 
 " Remove the banquet," or "somebody's head." 
 'Twas all the same to those vassals bold, 
 Who did, without murmur, just what they were told ; 
 Or I trow there'd have been what is termed " a 
 
 shine " 
 In the stately halls of Blumenstein ! 
 
26 COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 
 
 The Baron was blessed with a gentle wife, 
 The joy of his heart and the pride of his life ; 
 She never spoke word that engendered strife ; 
 
 But cabbages red 
 
 She pickled instead, 
 She rose with the lark, and went early to bed. 
 The fame of her beer and sauer-kraut 
 Was noised through the country round about : 
 And the Baron's retainers would often vow 
 That no lord in the land had a better Haus-frau. 
 
 But beyond compare 
 
 Was the daughter fair 
 Who graced the home of the worthy pair. 
 She had lovely blue eyes and bright golden hair, 
 And plenty of frocks all of white to wear ; 
 She'd a heart quite light and free from care, 
 And cheeks like the blush on the Cath'rine pear ; 
 Such a winsome smile, such a charming air 
 Would have softened the heart of a grizzly bear ; 
 And before you had time to say " Beware ! " 
 Every youth who beheld her began to pine 
 For the love of sweet Hilda von Blumenstein. 
 
 I trow, there is little need for me 
 
 To tell any lover of chivalry 
 That this was the lady of high degree 
 Who was born to lead captive Rudolph the Free. 
 
COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 27 
 
 Behold him now, as he kneels at her feet, 
 
 And pleadeth his cause in accents sweet : 
 
 " Let my love be proven, my lady fair. 
 
 Show me what for thy sake I shall do or dare. 
 
 And 'tis done at once, whatever it be, 
 
 For thou alone rulest o'er Rudolph the Free." 
 
 The lady blushed, and the lady sighed ; 
 She knew that his love would be sorely tried. 
 " Now lithe and listen, sir knight," quoth she, 
 " I claim no service of bended knee, 
 I put thy love to no simple test 
 Of doughty deed or of knightly quest ; 
 Far harder task must, I ween, be thine 
 Ere thou winnest Hilda von Blumenstein." 
 
 " Now prove me, and try me, my lady fair, 
 What man may do, or what man may dare, 
 That Rudolph dares, for thy sake, to try ; 
 An he fail or falter, then let him die." 
 
 Full sweetly smiled that lady bright. 
 
 To hear the vow of her gallant knight ; 
 
 Yet ashen pale grew her lovely cheek. 
 
 And vainly awhile she strove to speak ; 
 
 But at last came the words which to breathe she 
 
 feared, 
 The tremulous murmur, " Cut off thy beard ! " 
 
28 COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 
 
 With sudden anger the knight flushed red, 
 
 " Nay, lady mine," he proudly said, 
 
 ** Hadst thou asked for my heart, or my hand, or my 
 
 head, 
 The thing were more quickly done than said ; 
 But I trow 'tis merely a mockery 
 To lay such command on Rudolph the Free." 
 
 ''Alack and alas," the lady cried, 
 " My love for thee overcometh my pride ; 
 Yet never mayst thou be knight of mine. 
 For thus runs the legend of Blumenstein : 
 
 " • W^^m a Iai>2 of Blumenstein, fair anti firitjl^t, 
 Stall list to tlje lofae of a beartfeti fenigljt, 
 ^ erg s]^all ie j&earlj at tieati of nigi^t, 
 2lnl3 fire anb flame rouse t]^e toattiers all 
 QTj^at keep tljeir toatcf) on \\z castle toall ! * 
 
 "Our castle is planned by my lordly sire. 
 
 Who feareth no foe save the crafty fire ! 
 
 In every bower is a hand-grenade ; 
 
 In the courtyard, a volunteer fire-brigade ; 
 
 O'er each noble steed, as he standeth in stall, 
 
 Hangs the harness ready at need to fall ; 
 
 In every corridor, I ween. 
 
 Gleams the scarlet robe of the fire-queen. 
 
COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 29 
 
 With her motto which speaketh to every one : 
 ' Place thine arms through the straps and run.' 
 Yet, I fear me that all would naught avail, 
 Should Hilda list to thy flatt'ring tale." 
 
 " Now Fate divides us," Sir Rudolph said, 
 " Were ever lovers so sore bested ? 
 For a withered crone o'er my cradle sung 
 This ancient rhyme in an ancient tongue : 
 
 " ' OSit|[ ]^calt!j anK toitl^ strengt]^ tfjo beartJ gj^all jgrofo, 
 JJn fia antf flame 'ttoill banisfj, E troto.' 
 
 " Yet say but the word, and e'en Fate I brave, 
 For Rudolph the Free is thine humble slave." 
 
 " Nay now, nay now, 
 
 'Twere vain, I trow. 
 To Fate's decree to refuse to bow ; 
 
 An thou diedst," quoth she, 
 
 " All for love of me, 
 I don't think matters improved would be — 
 So I think, on the whole, I'll go home to tea. 
 And I charge thee for ever all hope to resign 
 Of wedding Hilda von Blumenstein." 
 
 By the castle gate, 
 When night fell late, 
 Linger'd Rudolph von Ratz, in a doleful state ; 
 
30 COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 
 
 On a Hebrew harp he sadly played, 
 
 And he sang to his lady a serenade ; — 
 
 His words and his tune ne'er had met before, 
 
 And 'twere much to be wished they should meet no 
 
 more ; 
 'Tis ill to sing when the heart is sore. 
 
 On the ear of the watchful sentinel 
 
 The sound discordant at midnight fell, 
 
 And he said to himself : " This is not well." 
 
 So, raising his crossbow high in the air. 
 
 He sternly demanded, "Who goes there?" 
 
 But the knight, I suppose, 
 
 Was lost in his woes, 
 And he only longed to disturb the repose 
 Of the maiden who caused to his heart such 
 
 throes ; 
 So he went on chanting his tuneless prayer, 
 " Awake and listen, O lady fair ! " 
 
 I pause to remark 
 
 That the night it was dark ; 
 And the sentinel, fearing to make a mistake, 
 Came up to the knight, gave his shoulder a shake, 
 As a gentle hint for the worst to prepare. 
 And repeated his query of " Who goes there ? " 
 But Rudolph still called on his lady fair. 
 
COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 31 
 
 The watchman, his patience exhausted quite, 
 Determined to view the stranger aright. 
 Put his hand in his pocket, to feel for a light, 
 Struck a match on the box (it was Bryant and 
 
 May's), 
 And the beard of the knight was soon in a blaze ! 
 
 A cry of " fire " through the still night rang. 
 
 Loud pealed the alarm-bell with crash and with 
 
 clang ; 
 And out came pouring the warders all, 
 Who kept their watch on the castle wall. 
 In fifty seconds, or rather less. 
 The engine came dashing along express ; 
 Quick the firemen saw where the mischief lay, 
 So they " married their stand-pipes " without delay, 
 And straight on Count Rudolph began to play. 
 While the trusty henchmen formed in a line 
 And passed the buckets right up from the Rhine ; 
 And the Baron himself, his wife, and his daughter, 
 Descended by rope-ladders into the water. 
 
 'Twas a terrible rout. 
 Though the fire was put out 
 Ere Rudolph quite knew what 'twas all about ; 
 But alas and alack ! 
 A remnant black 
 
32 COUNT RUDOLPH'S BEARD. 
 
 Alone remained, for the world to see, 
 
 Of the noble beard of Count Rudolph the Free. 
 
 A passing sigh for that vanished grace, 
 
 Count Rudolph heaved for a moment's space ; 
 
 'Tvvas a thousand pities he wasn't insured, 
 
 But he thought, " 'Tis an evil that cannot be cured, 
 
 So I trow it will e'en have to be endured." 
 
 Then a sudden joy through his bosom thrilled ! 
 
 " Beshrew me, the portents are both fulfilled ! 
 
 And no one's the worse, except by a fright, 
 
 Sir Rudolph, no longer a bearded knight — 
 
 May claim the hand of his lady bright ! " 
 
 So he did. And the bells rang right merrily 
 
 For the wedding of Hilda with Rudolph the Free. 
 
BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 
 
 Brimmacum's our second master — he's rather a mild 
 sort of " fella," 
 
 But at Easter-time he went and bought the gor- 
 geous^j-^ umbrella ! 
 
 There's too many syllables there for the grammar, I 
 must confess ; 
 
 But anything falling short of those words my feel- 
 ings wouldn't express ! 
 
 'Twas silk, with an ebony stick, and gold mounts, or 
 something as bright, 
 
 And topped up with a jolly big ball of the finest 
 crocidolite — 
 
 That's right, I know, for I bribed little Jones with my 
 penknife (I wanted to sell it), 
 
 To go up to Brimmacum's desk one day, and ask 
 him how to spell it ! 
 
 My ! wasn't he mad ? But he'd have been worse if 
 he'd heard Briggs major reporting, 
 
 " I say, boys, here's a precious lark ; old Brim- 
 macum's going a-courting." 
 
 3 
 
34 BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 
 
 Well, the summer holidays came and went — we 
 
 always come back a bit glum ; 
 But worse than the newest homesick boy was poor 
 
 old Brimmacum. 
 That the course of true love hadn't run smooth, was 
 
 plain to the seeing eye, 
 For his smart umbrella had disappeared, and none 
 
 knew the reason why. 
 And Briggs did say — but Briggs, I fear, for truth 
 
 doesn't greatly care — 
 That he'd changed it away for a diamond ring, which 
 
 the lady declined ta wear. 
 
 I didn't go home at Christmas time ; I went up 
 
 north to see 
 The splendidest man that ever lived — my grand- 
 father. Squire Leigh. 
 And didn't I have a glorious time, a regular first- 
 rate spree ! 
 
 There was skating and riding. 
 Snowballing and sliding, 
 And everything fine in the way of providing ; 
 Turkeys and geese, 
 Ten mince-pies apiece, 
 And carol singers unmoved by police ; 
 Holly and yew. 
 And snapdragon, too. 
 With a big plum-pudding, all burning blue ! 
 
BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 35 
 
 Hunt the slipper and blind-man's buff, 
 
 Figs and oranges quantum suff. 
 (A piece of Latin no boy finds tough). 
 
 Roast apples and chestnuts, all aglow ; 
 
 Playing upon the old banjo — 
 
 I mean the boys, not the apples, you 
 know — 
 
 Doing our best to "jump Jim Crow," 
 
 Kissing under the mistletoe 
 (But that's a proceeding I think rather slow). 
 Getting back forfeits lost at "old sodger," 
 And then — Aunt Lucy struck up " Sir Roger." 
 
 Aunt Lucy's capital fun when nobody else is by ; 
 She likes a lark as well as a boy, if it's only done on 
 
 the sly ; 
 But when there are other fellows about — big grown- 
 up fellows I mean — 
 She puts on all her fine lady airs, and remembers 
 
 she's turned eighteen ; 
 And instead of waiting upon a chap, and putting his 
 
 specimens right. 
 She expects him to dangle after her, and be what 
 
 she calls " polite ! " 
 So when the dancing and stuff began, I wasn't going 
 
 to stay ; 
 I saw Aunt Lucy looking for me, and I quietly 
 
 slipped away. 
 
36 BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 
 
 I went to call on the keeper— his name is old Joe 
 
 Tupper ; 
 I thought I'd have a good talk with him, and get 
 
 back in time for supper. 
 
 I love to talk to old keeper Joe, because he can 
 
 always tell a 
 Good tale about hunting or fishing, or, what I like 
 almost as well, a 
 
 Ghost story that might 
 
 Make your hair stand upright. 
 And give you the " creeps " for the rest of the 
 night ; 
 
 A terrible tale of a woman in white, 
 
 With golden hair and eyes as bright 
 
 As the newest thing in electric light. 
 Which wildly gleam o'er flood and fell — a 
 
 Story of fear 
 
 For the time of year ; 
 But the only thing I did not think to hear 
 Was the story of — Brimmacum's best umbrella. 
 
 There it stood on the cottage floor. 
 The very first thing my eyes before, 
 When, stealing away from that wild uproar. 
 I gently opened the keeper's door ! 
 It looked at me with an eye severe ; 
 I fell back, muttering, " This is queer." 
 
BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 37 
 
 But, growing bolder, I ventured near. 
 Saying, " How in the world did you get 
 here ? " 
 
 Then keeper Joe, rising, cheerily said, 
 "I'm main glad to see thee, Maister Fred. 
 Cum, sit thee down, and I'll tell thee t' story 
 O' that there umbrella what's stannin' afore 
 
 thee." 
 I obeyed his behest right cheerfully, 
 And I'll tell you the tale as 'twas told to me. 
 
 " Miss Lucy, thou knows, she cum back fra school 
 
 chock full o' all sorts o' knowledge ; 
 But all th' lot on't wurn't no use — she wanted to go 
 
 to t' college. 
 The lasses i' my young days, Maister Fred, they 
 
 hadn't so far to seek ; 
 They'd nobbut one tongue, and they used it — they 
 
 wanted no Latin nor Greek ; 
 They looked arter housekeepin' matters, they baked 
 
 t' puddin's and t' pies. 
 And if ivver their tongues did fail 'em, why, they 
 
 made it up with their eyes. 
 But t' squire got a schoolmaister fella to cum i' th' 
 
 holiday time, 
 And he wur a-teachin' Miss Lucy thro' all th' 
 
 summer's prime. 
 
38 BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 
 
 Aye, but Miss Lucy's a scholard, and she went at it 
 
 right smart ; 
 And it tuk her just no time at all to get all his books 
 
 by heart. 
 'Twould ha' done ye good to hear 'em talk o' the 
 
 glorious * Tragic Three ' ; 
 But th' thing as puzzled me most o' all were th' 
 
 wondrous * Attic Bee.' 
 Thinks I, — * I beant no scholard, and he's got th' 
 
 mathematics ; 
 But I don't believe as his bees 'ud thrive, if he kep' 
 
 'em up i' the attics ! ' 
 Yet howsomedivver that might^be, there wurn't no 
 
 lack o' honey. 
 And their books was alius a-preachin' up the wuth- 
 
 lessness of money. 
 For money can't gi'e happiness ' — ^thinks I, ' That's 
 
 pretty plain ; 
 Umbrellas don't bring t'sunshine, but they helps 
 
 to keep out t' rain.' 
 Then he tuk her out i' the park o' nights, and he larnt 
 
 her t' names o' t' stars, 
 And he tauld her which wur Venus, and which wur 
 
 Cupid and Mars ; 
 And they went a-streakin' about i' th' lanes in a 
 
 manner most surprisin'. 
 And they brought home a heap of rubbishly weeds, 
 
 and said they wur botanizin'. 
 
BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 39 
 
 They calls him Miss Lucy's " coach," ' says I 
 
 * missus, but dosta know ? 
 If they'd on'y gi'en him to me to name, I'd ha' called 
 
 him Miss Lucy's beau.' 
 And so fur a week or two, thou knows, he had it all 
 
 his own way ; 
 But then t' auld house begun to fill wi' folks as had 
 
 cum to stay. 
 Miss Lucy kep' up wi' her lessons, as in course she 
 
 wur bound to do. 
 But he fun hissen at loose ends like, arter they'd 
 
 gotten thro' ; 
 For he wurn't at home a-top on a horse, and wur 
 
 mortal feared on a gun ; 
 And Miss Lucy went off wi' her cousins, and he wur 
 
 clean out o' t' fun. 
 So he turned quite sulky-like, and cum off a-fishin', 
 
 ye see. 
 And he thought he'd show off his larnin', and hev it 
 
 out wi' me ; 
 But, bless ye, I knows a sight o' things, so I wurn't 
 
 taken aback, 
 For Trigonometry beant no use when ye're gettin' a 
 
 barn to thack ; 
 And I onct heard Miss Lucy say to him — she knowed 
 
 she wur talkin' treason, 
 'You men invented logic fur to hide your want o' 
 
 reason.' 
 
40 BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 
 
 Well, he sets hissen down alongside o' me, and maks 
 
 believe to fish, 
 (Ye might put all the trout as he ivver caught in a 
 
 very small-sized dish). 
 Then all on a sudden he bursts out, vvi'out the least 
 apology : 
 
 Says he, ' Joe, 
 
 Dosta know 
 Aught about Chro-nology ? ' 
 
 Says I, ' Nay, 
 
 I can't rightly say. 
 As I ivver did much i' that sort o' way.' 
 ' Aye, that's a terrible pity,' says he ; 
 * It's a very gran' science, Chro-nol-o-gy. 
 It taks in all creeturs, great and small, 
 The fishes that swim and the beasties that crawl. 
 And shows ye some things as ye can't see at all ; 
 
 " ' It classifies ants, and blue-bottle flies. 
 
 And teaches ye how to make use on your eyes.* 
 
 Thinks I to mysen, ' Ah, thou may boast, 
 
 I can see as far thro' a mileston' as most, 
 
 Tho' I ne'er i' my life set foot in a college.' He 
 
 Goes on, wi' a laugh, 
 
 ' 'Twould take thee half 
 O' the rest o' thy life to larn Chronology ; 
 But I'll lend thee a hand, if to larn 't thou'rt 
 
 wishin'.' 
 
BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 41 
 
 ' Thou don't say so,' says I ; 
 
 'Well, I think I'll none try, 
 
 So I'll e'en get along wi' my fishin'.' 
 
 " Just then I landed a fine fat trout, 
 
 And t' schoolmaister thought as I'd cut him out ; 
 
 So, as soon as t' fish vvur fairly caught, 
 
 ^ Joe,' he begins,' ' dosta know aught 
 
 O' t' science o' Phrenolo-gy ? ' 
 
 Says I to he, 
 
 ' What might that be ? 
 I doubt 'twould be summat too strong for me.* 
 ^ Oh, that,' says he, ' rings i' th' student's ears 
 Th' wonderful music of the spheres ; 
 And numbers the countless orbs that stray 
 Thro' the trackless path o' the Milky Way ; 
 It shows how the planets in order run ; 
 It weighs the earth, and it measures the sun. 
 With a science exact, that never fails.' 
 Thinks I, ' But I'd like to look at them scales ! ' 
 
 " ' It's a gran' thing, ye see. 
 
 Is Phrenolo-gy. 
 'Twould tak half thy lifetime to larn 't,' says he. 
 Says I, 'I'm afeard it's no good wishin', 
 
 Fur as yet I ne'er 
 
 Had that time to spare, 
 So I'll e'en get along wi' my fishin'.' 
 
42 BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 
 
 " Then he drops his rod, of its weight com- 
 
 plainin', 
 Puts up his umbrella, and thinks it's rainin', 
 
 Wonders why he cum, 
 
 Thinks he'll go home, 
 Then all on a sudden, * Joe,' he cries, 
 
 ' Open thy eyes. 
 That flower o' the rock's a splendid prize ! 
 
 I mun get it fur her ; ' — 
 
 I didn't stir, 
 It wurn't no manner o' use to me. 
 * Why, Joe,' a'most in a passion, cries he, 
 ' Thou cannot know Ornitholo-gy ; 
 That tells ye the name o' each flower as blows, 
 From the daisy pied to the blushing rose ; 
 It puts each plant o' thy cottage border 
 Into its proper system and order ; 
 And by its help ye can easily settle 
 Which part is the stamen and which is the petal. 
 Aye, sad indeed must thy lack o' knowledge be ! 
 'T would tak' half thy life to larn Ornithology ! ' 
 Says I, * Fur larnin' I'm alius a-wishin', 
 
 When I've naught else to do ; 
 
 But I think that noo 
 'Twould be best fur me t' get on wi' my fishin' ! 
 
 ** Then he gangs a-slitherin' about them rocks ; 
 But t' flower all his tewin' and moilin' mocks, 
 
BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 43 
 
 And afore I 'xactly sees what he's arter, 
 
 He pitches head-foremost into t' water ! 
 
 But, as luck would hev' it, that smart umbrella 
 
 (A long sight too smart fur a schoolmaister fella) 
 
 Sticks fast i' t' rocks, so he holds on tight, 
 
 And he hollers fur me wi' all his might. 
 
 Thinks I, ' Thy larnin's a poor apology.' 
 
 ' Schoolmaister,' says I, 
 
 ' Didst ivver try 
 To larn t' science o' Swimology? ' 
 
 Says he, * No ; 
 
 Mak' haste, Joe ; 
 
 If you don't be quick I shall hev' to let go.' 
 Says I, as I plunged i' th' stream like winkin', 
 And landed him drippin' upon the shore, 
 * If I hadn't lookt sharp 'twou'd ha' tuk thee 
 
 more 
 Nor the WHOLE o' thy life to larn that, I'm 
 
 thinkin' ! ' 
 
 " Yet he wur a plucky chap, arter all, fur he cum back 
 
 t' next day. 
 And pulled that flower fur Miss Lucy, but I think she 
 
 said him nay ; 
 Leastwise, he seemed down-hearted like, when he 
 
 cum to say good-bye ; 
 But mebbe he couldn't mak' up his mind, and so wur 
 
 afeard to try. 
 
44 BRIMMACUM'S UMBRELLA. 
 
 He wanted to gi'e me a fi'-pun note, and that's how 
 
 it cum to pass 
 As he left me his smart umbrella, fur I wouldn't ha' 
 
 none on his brass. 
 So I've got it fur a keepsake, fur I really tuk it kind 
 On him to be so anxious fur t' improvin' o' my 
 
 mind ! " 
 
 I told Aunt Lucy the story, but she didn't see the 
 
 fun, 
 Though I left out all the levering, as, of course, Joe 
 
 should have done. 
 And though I didn't mention names — a fact I can 
 
 aver, 
 She cried because old Brimmacum had risked his life 
 
 for her ! 
 Well, girls are the queerest creatures, that's all I've 
 
 got to say ; 
 And I think (but you mustn't let it out, or hint it in 
 
 any way, 
 'Tis a secret I've never told before, not e'en to my 
 
 nearest chum) 
 That very soon I shall have to speak — of — ** My 
 
 Uncle Brimmacum." 
 I think 'twill be rather jolly, you know, for he isn't 
 
 half a bad " fella," 
 And my wedding present to him shall be another 
 
 fine umbrella ! 
 
BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 
 
 When Christmas-time came round again, and flung 
 
 o'er hill and lake 
 A veil of snow, like frosting on a jolly rich plum- 
 cake ; 
 And Winter, like a pastrycook, the ice was deftly 
 
 spreading. 
 Aunt Lucy sent me a silver card to bid me to Brim- 
 
 macum's wedding. 
 There were two little hearts in the corner, instead of 
 
 a postage-stamp ; 
 And Hymen larking round with his torch, which 
 
 looked like a bicycle lamp ; 
 And ivy (that means Fidelity) with true-lovers' knots 
 
 in a bow : 
 "When I make up my mind to get married, I won't be 
 
 so spoony, I know. 
 
 Aunt Lucy wrote, "Dearest Freddie" {Freddie! I 
 
 was in a rage), 
 " I thought you might like to come, dear, and be my 
 
 sweet little page ! " — 
 
46 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 
 
 Now I don't care much for pages, they're mostly 
 
 dressed-up girls, 
 With lace furbelows and collars and a lot of un- 
 
 cropped curls, 
 And they hang about with the horses, instead of 
 
 going to fight ; 
 So I thought, all things considered, I'd rather be a 
 
 knight. 
 Briggs major chaffed me awfully ; said he, " It's jolly 
 
 grand 
 To be Brimmacum's boy in buttons," which of course 
 
 I couldn't stand. 
 
 So we two concocted a pretty note, which said I'd 
 
 gladly come 
 And shed the light of my presence on Mrs, Brim- 
 
 macum ; 
 But if 'twas all the same to her, for reasons I'd not 
 
 explain, 
 I'd rather be H. M. Stanley, or Allan Quatermain ; — 
 Or, if she went for the classics, as far as I could tell. 
 Why, Ajax or Dick Turpin would suit me just as 
 
 well! 
 
 But my brilliant suggestions experienced a rebuff. 
 For she thought the last-named gentlemen a little 
 
 bit too rough. 
 And of juvenile explorers she'd really had enough ; 
 
BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 47 
 
 I didn't think Aunt Lucy remembered things so 
 
 long,— 
 To rake up a fellow's sins like that, is downright 
 
 mean and wrong. 
 She was hinting at that afternoon we started for the 
 
 Cape, 
 Got shipwrecked in the greenhouse, and cleared off 
 
 every grape. 
 Old Joe said, " Boys is varmint " — but I forgave him 
 
 then ; 
 I know he's not the sort of chap to bring things up 
 
 again. 
 
 So, after all, it was settled I'd better be myself. 
 And then (at the end of the term, you know, one's 
 
 apt to be short of pelf, 
 But the mater came down handsome, she thought it 
 
 very nice) 
 I bought a fine umbrella, and I stuffed it full of 
 
 rice ; 
 And I made old Brimmacum promise, whatever was 
 
 the weather, 
 He wouldn't put it up until his bride and he were 
 
 together ! 
 It was the tallest kind of a joke, because, you see, it 
 
 appears 
 They'd agreed to pretend they'd been married for 
 
 any amount of years ; 
 
48 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 
 
 And nobody had the least notion they were out orr 
 
 their honeymoon 
 (Folks must have been precious stupid, for I lay they 
 
 did nothing but spoon). 
 But, one day, when lots of swells were round, it came 
 
 on to rain, — in a trice 
 Up went that smart umbrella, and out fell a shower 
 
 of rice ! 
 Oh ! didn't the people chaff them, and there was no 
 
 end of a spree ! 
 And the credit of that transaction was entirely due tome. 
 
 But there, as the bookwriting fellows say, " we must 
 
 not anticipate." 
 I reached Leigh Hall " the day before," which I 
 
 thought was rather late ; 
 Still, I had my share in the scrimmage, for, after a 
 
 minute's doubt, 
 Grandmother said that Ethel and I might set the 
 
 presents out — 
 Ethel's the youngest bridesmaid ; we had a bit of a 
 
 wrangle, 
 She called old Brimmacum " a duck," because he 
 
 gave her a bangle ; 
 And she was uncommonly wild with me, though it 
 
 wasn't the slightest use. 
 When I said I didn't know much about ducks, but I 
 
 fancied she was a goose ! 
 
BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 49 
 
 Well, we made it up in a little while, 
 Then settled to work in first-rate style ; 
 
 We wrote some neat little labels, and counted them 
 up when we'd done ; 
 
 And the glorious sum total — was three hundred and 
 sixty-one ! 
 
 Presents aren't half a bad invention — 
 
 Just a few I should like to mention : 
 
 A patent contrivance for drawing a cork, 
 
 Three dozen spoons and a toasting-fork ; 
 
 Knives for carving and eating fishes, 
 
 And fifteen designs in butter-dishes ; 
 
 A silver " grid " for frying your steak. 
 
 And little twin baskets for wedding-cake ; 
 
 A set of sermons from Uncle Draper 
 
 (He'd better have sent the " Boy's Own 
 
 Paper ") ; 
 Bowls and plates, and such like crocks, 
 Garden-rollers, and chiming clocks ; 
 The stunningest sort of a writing-table, 
 Six pen-wipers from baby Mabel ; 
 Scuttles for coals, and silver lamps, 
 And the Wonderland Case for postage-stamps ; 
 Brooches and bracelets set with jewels, 
 And heaps and heaps of things in crewels, 
 Which Ethel tremendously admired, 
 Though the very sight of them made me tired. 
 
 4 
 
50 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 
 
 Up to this, we'd behaved with the greatest pro- 
 priety, 
 But now I proposed that, by way of variety, 
 A little amusement might intervene, 
 So I popped the pug in the soup-tureen, 
 And suggested the wall-pocket lined with satin 
 Was exactly the place to hide the cat in ! 
 I'd just accomplished my dearest wish 
 By putting a mouse in the muffin-dish. 
 When the ink- stand went and toppled over. 
 So I stopped the stream with a table-cover ; 
 But Ethel cried out, " Oh dear, oh dear ! 
 That's the gift of the Lady Delamere ! " 
 'Twas plain I'd got into an awful mess. 
 So I thought I'd better go and confess ; 
 But, though perhaps 'twas a trifle mean, 
 I couldn't help feeling more serene 
 When Granny came peering round the screen. 
 She gazed awhile on that Stygian scene. 
 And then only said, very soft and low. 
 She thought, on the whole, I had better go 
 And pay a visit to keeper Joe 
 (Just to keep me out of a scrape, you know), 
 While she and Ethel set matters straight 
 That cleared my mind of a heavy weight 
 And I feel at liberty to state 
 That the damage wasn't so very great. 
 
BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 51 
 
 As I drew near to the cottage-door, Old Brimmacum 
 
 walked away ; 
 Cried Joe, " I'm fain to see thee, lad, and hopes thou 
 
 bee'st cum to stay ! 
 Says I to th' missis, ' He's sewer to cum, or else thou 
 
 may ca' me dunce.' 
 Schule-maister's bin argufyin' wi' me as a man can't 
 
 luv but once ; 
 Says I, wi' my face pulled straight-like, tho' I 
 
 laughed a bit i' my sleeve, 
 * Maister, an true luv cums but onc't, there's a sight 
 
 o' mak'-believe ! ' 
 But theer, what can ye 'spect of a chap o' th' eve on 
 
 his weddin'-day ? 
 When folk is bent on coortin', they're apt to be tuk 
 
 i' that way." 
 
 Here I broke in with, " Joe, I say. 
 
 You've led me astray, 
 
 You told me Aunt Lucy had said him * nay ! ' " 
 
 Joe answered me in his solemn way, 
 "jMaister Fred, an thou lives long eneugh, it's sartin 
 
 thou wilt find 
 A woman's none a woman, if she doesn't chaange 
 
 her mind ! 
 That minds me on a story as chanced i' my young days ; 
 Cum, sit thee down and hear it; I'll mak' t' fire t' blaze. 
 
52 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 
 
 " Sally and Sam, when I wur young, had coorted 
 
 mony a year, 
 And a' th' folk they wished 'em well as knovved 'em, 
 
 far and near. 
 An' they wur happy, I'll be boun', as any lark as 
 
 sings ; 
 For Sally wur a gradely lass, as knowed the mak' o' 
 
 things, 
 An' Sam nor all th' other lads wur taller by th* head ; 
 An' 'twas th' talk o' t' village as they wur boun' to 
 
 wed. 
 Now, on a summer's evenin', when t' farm-work wur 
 
 all done, 
 They walked togither, arm-in-arm, and Sam he thus 
 begun : 
 
 ' Sally,' says he, 
 ' Thee an' me 
 'S been a coortin' a goodish bit, hanna we?' 
 Sally blushed and smiled and looked away ; 
 She thought, in course he wur goin' to say, 
 ' My lass, now I wants thee to name t' day.' 
 And so she wur summat taken aback. 
 When he went on quite anither tack. 
 ' Hey, we've been a coortin' a longish bit — but 'tis 
 
 over'd now, I find ; 
 So I thought I'd cum an' tell thee as I ha' chaanged 
 my mind.' 
 
BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 53 
 
 "At fust she thought he wur makin' fun, 
 So she laughed and said, ' Now, Sam, ha' done. 
 Thou needn't be tryin' it on wi' me, 
 Thou knaws I'd nivver think ill o' thee. 
 Thou's nivver had no 'casion for sayin' aught o' t' 
 kind.' 
 
 * Eneugh for thee to knaw,' says Sam, ' as I ha' 
 
 chaanged my mind.' 
 
 "Then Sally she wur downright mad — and sma' 
 
 blame too, says I — 
 She'd a spice o' temper, as lasses have as is smart 
 
 and neat and spry ; 
 ' Thou ill-contrive't waistril, I wunder thou's th' face — 
 Thou knaws t' folk '11 cry thee shame thro'-out th' 
 
 hull o' t' place. 
 To talk sich stuff as that to her thou's walked out 
 
 wi' so long ; 
 Thou'dst better chaange thy mind agen, for sewer 
 
 thou's chaanged it wrong.' 
 
 " Hey, she gev' him a tung-lashin', a regilar set-down. 
 But Sam wur nivver daunted by any woman's frown ; 
 He let her talk till she wur tired, and then, * My lass,' 
 says he, 
 
 * I've tauld thee as I've chaanged my mind, and that's 
 
 eneugh for thee.' 
 
54 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 
 
 ** Now, Sally she begun to see as tantrums wouldn't do ; 
 So next she tried clandoodlin' — and well she did it, 
 
 too. 
 (I fun' it out at siwenteen, and I'll say 't at nigh 
 
 three-score. 
 When a woman tak's to clandoodlin', a man may as 
 
 well gi'e o'er.) 
 
 * Nay, Sam, thou nivver means it,' says she, and 
 
 drops a tear ; 
 
 * We two ha' luvved each other for well-nigh sivven 
 
 year, 
 An' we broke t' lucky sixpence, and vowed we'd 
 
 nivver part ; 
 I nivver thought as thou wouldst go and try to 
 
 break my heart ! 
 An' if thou goes and leaves me now I'll lay me down 
 
 and dee.' 
 I'm soft as a boiled turnip if a lass but wets her e'e, 
 But Sam he didn't care a smite, he wurn't that mak' 
 
 o' stuff— 
 
 * I've chaanged my mind, I tell thee,' says he, ' and 
 
 that's eneugh.' 
 
 " Now when clandoodlin' failed her, she knaw'd what 
 
 to be at. 
 She went and tuk to strathegy — and woman's good 
 
 at that. 
 
BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 55 
 
 I'm stronger nor th' missis, and wiser too, no 
 
 doubt ; 
 But when she taks to strathegy, she beats me out 
 
 and out. 
 
 " Sally dreed her e'en, and smoothed her hair ; 
 And med' believe as she didn't care. 
 'Well, Sam,' says she, 
 ' It's nowt to me, 
 I'm thinkin' there's plenty o' fish i' th' sea ; 
 But what dosta think folk '11 say o' thee .-' 
 Now tho' thou'rt as bad a lot as can be, 
 And hast seemin'ly lost all thy luv for me, 
 I can't forget as I onc't luvved thee ; 
 So I've a plan, an' if thou'U agree, 
 Th' blame on t' partin' shall fall on me — 
 Tvvould nivver do for a likely lad to leave a lass i' 
 
 the lurch. 
 Thou mun go and see t' parson, and hav' us asked i' 
 
 church ; 
 An' thou mun nivver cheep a word o' all as thou hast 
 
 said, 
 An' things '11 go on just as tho' we still were boun' to 
 wed. 
 
 " * An' then t' parson he'll begin to tie us up for 
 
 life, 
 
56 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 
 
 " Sam, wilta ha' this woman to be thy wedded 
 
 wife, 
 To luv* an' keep an' cherish her thro' good report and 
 
 ill ? " 
 And thou mun then, as bauld as brass, mak' answer 
 
 "Ay, I will." 
 And then 'twill be my turn, thou knaws, an' he'll cum 
 
 to me and say, 
 "Sally, wilta ha' this man, to honour and obey? " 
 And I shall toss my head as tho' I luvved thee ne'er 
 
 a jot, 
 And say out loud afore folk, " Nay, maister, I will 
 
 not." 
 
 So then wi' me 
 The fault will be. 
 And none o' t' blame will lig o' thee.' 
 
 " Now Sam he thought 'twur just as well as she 
 
 should ha' th' blame, 
 So long as he could get his way, and leave her all th' 
 
 same. 
 So he went and put th' axins up, and when th' day 
 
 cum round, 
 A luvvinger couple, you'd ha' said, there couldn't well 
 
 be found. 
 And Sally wur that snod and smart, in ribbins and in 
 
 lace. 
 
BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 57 
 
 Wi' a smile as looked like mischief upon her bonny 
 
 face ; 
 And her posy wur forget-me-nots, as might ha' been 
 
 a hint — 
 But bless you, Sam he'd no more 7ious nor if he'd 
 
 bin a flint. 
 
 '' But he'd getten t' lesson off by heart, an' when t' 
 
 parson said, 
 ' Sam, wilta ha' this woman as thou's cum here to 
 
 wed?' 
 He wurn't nivver a bit flustered, tho' he'd behaved so 
 
 ill, 
 But spoke out bauldly like a man, ' Ay, maister, 
 
 that I will.' 
 And then a light o' triumph shone in Sally's e'en so 
 
 blue. 
 And when t' parson speared at her, she answered, 
 
 • I will,' too. 
 * Hey, Sally, lass ! ' cried Sam, aghast, * thou'st bin 
 
 and clean forgot, 
 Thou knaws thou tauld me thou would say, ' Why, 
 
 no, that I will not' 
 ' Hey, Sam, my lad, I knaw I did — but now, I think 
 
 thou'lt find 
 It's quite eneugh for thee to knaw as / ha' 
 
 CHAANGED MY MIND.' " 
 
58 BRIMMACUM'S WEDDING. 
 
 But Brimmacum didn't change his mind, and Aunt 
 
 Lucy said, " I will"; 
 And Joe declared, " In twenty year happen she'll say 
 
 it still ! " 
 And wasn't the cake just scrumptious ! Trust me» 
 
 for you know I've tried, 
 And I shouldn't much mind a wedding myself, if 
 
 they'd only leave out the bride ! 
 
PICKLED COCKLES 
 
 A QUAKER STORY. 
 
 In the old-fashioned " Friendly " days, 
 
 When Quaker garb and Quaker ways 
 Had not died out — when Quaker phrase 
 Was heard in every Friendly greeting, 
 And not merely reserved for " Preparative Meeting : " 
 
 When old and young 
 
 Used the Quaker tongue, 
 
 Said " thee " and " thou," 
 
 Declined to bow, 
 
 And thought a song 
 
 Most improper and wrong ; 
 In the days which we love — to hear about 
 (They were less amusing to live in, no doubt), 
 There dwelt just outside a suburban town 
 A dear old Friend named Tabitha Brown. 
 
 Now Tabitha Brown was clad always 
 
 In the softest of drabs and most dove-like greys ; 
 
6o PICKLED COCKLES. 
 
 With the whitest of caps on her silver hair, 
 
 And apron and mittens and all " to compare ; " 
 
 While out of doors she was just the same, — 
 
 Most spotless, quiet, and free from blame ; 
 
 Her shawl was neatly folded in, 
 
 And kept in its place by a white-headed pin ; 
 
 The sweet placid face, 'neath the silver hair 
 
 (Showing lines of sorrow, but none of care), 
 
 Looked out from a bonnet quaint and shady, — 
 
 She was what one might call a real " Quaker Lady." 
 
 Thy excuse, gentle spirit — I apprehend 
 
 Thou wert what's better still, a true " Woman Friend." 
 
 Tabitha Brown was well skilled in the arts 
 
 Of making pies, and puddings, and tarts ; 
 
 Of pickling, preserving, and baking, and brewing. 
 
 Of boiling and roasting, and frying and stewing, 
 
 Cheese-pressing and churning — 
 
 In all sorts of learning 
 Connected with thrifty household ways, 
 Tabitha Brown was above all praise. 
 In fact, there was nothing she couldn't make, 
 From a whole-meal loaf to a wedding cake ! 
 
 While for dusting and rubbing, 
 And scouring and scrubbing. 
 And subjecting all things to the process called 
 " tubbing," 
 
PICKLED COCKLES. 6l 
 
 For swilling and mopping, for sweeping with brooms, 
 For turning the furniture out of the rooms, 
 For shaking of beds and for beating of chairs, 
 For taking up carpets and cleaning the stairs ; 
 For polishing pots, pans, dishes, and kettles. 
 And everything else that is made of bright metals ; 
 For leaving black beetles and spiders no peace. 
 For using that article termed " elbow-grease," 
 Together with soap, sand, bath-brick, and black-lead, 
 Emery paper (or what was then used instead). 
 For keeping the house without spot, speck, or stain, 
 There never was servant like Phoebe Jane ! 
 In short, and most boys will, I think, grasp my 
 
 meaning, 
 She kept up all the year one perpetual " spring- 
 cleaning." 
 
 Phoebe Jane was tidy and trim. 
 
 But no Quaker dress could make her look prim ; 
 
 And, notwithstanding her " Friendly " gown. 
 
 She failed to resemble Tabitha Brown. 
 
 Her bonnet and shawl were just as plain, 
 
 Yet they looked somehow different on Phoebe Jane ; 
 
 While rebellious curls would sometimes stray 
 
 From her cap in a m.ost unorthodox way, 
 
 And, though she persistently brushed them o'er, 
 
 They only curled tighter than before. 
 
62 PICKLED COCKLES. 
 
 Her temper, too, was none of the best ; 
 And if any one, either mistress or guest. 
 Her peculiar notions chanced to offend, she 
 
 Her feeh'ngs expressed 
 
 (It must be confessed) 
 In Quakerly speech which was not always "friendly" ; 
 And Tabitha Brown wrote these words in her diary : 
 " P. J.'s heart — it is good, but her temper — is fiery." 
 
 This quiet household contained a third, — 
 A jackdaw, a really remarkable bird ! 
 From the day he left his parental nest 
 In Quaker language he'd been addressed ; 
 And he talked in quite as " Friendly" a strain 
 As Tabitha Brown or Phoebe Jane. 
 
 No schoolboy's freak 
 
 Had e'er taught him to speak 
 Of "awfully jolly " or "stunning," or " fine," 
 
 Or to whistle sad airs 
 
 About "oysters" and "stairs," 
 And "Ehren/' or " Bingen," or "Bonn" "on the 
 Rhine. =' 
 
 Sedate and grave. 
 
 He knew how to behave ; 
 On points of decorum his feelings were sensitive ; 
 
 Friends scarce had erred 
 
 Had they sent this bird 
 
PICKLED COCKLES. 63 
 
 To the " Quarterly Meeting " as " Representative." 
 Tho' no doubt he would not have failed to declare 
 That he certainly " did not expect to be there." 
 
 But not even beneficent Quaker law 
 Can eradicate mischief from a jackdaw, 
 
 And a failing bad 
 
 He once had had, 
 Which is common to all of his species and genus 
 (Pray let it be kept a secret between us) — 
 He had not a conscience sufficiently fine 
 To discriminate clearly 'twixt " mine " and " thine." 
 
 On thimbles and keys. 
 
 Button-hooks and green peas, 
 
 Spoons ("tables" or "teas") 
 
 He would suddenly seize 
 
 Without saying " please," 
 And convey them to places not reached with great 
 ease — 
 
 To the tops of tall trees, 
 
 Rocked by Spring's "gentle breeze." 
 Or to crannies thro' which your hand could not squeeze. 
 
 Once, when many degrees 
 
 Of cold made it freeze, 
 And Tabitha Brown 'gan to cough and to sneeze, 
 She sent for her doctor, the best of m.d.'s. 
 And this model jackdaw ran away with the fees. 
 
64 PICKLED COCKLES. 
 
 But 'twas long ago 
 
 Since he'd acted so ; 
 And Tabitha gently said, " Thee know, 
 We ought to have charity, Phoebe Jane ; 
 I do not think 'twill occur again." 
 
 Now of all the receipts which Friend Brown possessed, 
 She prized one more highly than the rest, 
 Which, from mother to daughter handed down. 
 Had for years belonged to the race of Brown ; 
 'Twas for pickled cockles, and Friends would 
 
 declare. 
 When they tasted the " Monthly Meeting " fare, 
 That this dish indeed was beyond compare. 
 So, though Tabitha looked with benignant eyes 
 On the rapid consumption of puddings and pies, 
 And showed, indeed, very small reserve 
 In the matter of marmalade and preserve. 
 She was somewhat "exercised in her mind," 
 On entering the storeroom one morning, to find 
 That the jar she had thought was filled to the brim 
 With dainty molluscs in orderly trim, 
 Was in truth half empty ; and in some pain 
 She mentioned the fact to Phoebe Jane : 
 "They'll not last until cockles come round again." 
 But Phoebe Jane was very cross, 
 And, as she gave her head a toss, 
 
PICKLED COCKLES. ^ 
 
 Replied, " I thought thee couldn't know 
 That the stock was getting low 
 
 Of pickled cockles." 
 
 Tabitha quietly withdrew, 
 
 Yet still, alas ! 'tis very true 
 
 That neither mistress nor maid could guess 
 
 How day by day the store grew less, 
 
 Of pickled cockles. 
 
 And Phoebe Jane took it into her head 
 That her mistress didn't believe what she said, 
 And remarked, as she took the breakfast up, 
 " I know thee think that I dine and sup 
 
 On pickled cockles." 
 
 And, though Tabitha calmly assured her that she 
 Had not the least doubt of her honesty, 
 Phcebe still declared that she couldn't remain 
 If her character wasn't freed from the stain 
 
 Of those pickled cockles. 
 
 One afternoon it chanced that she 
 Was filling the little brass kettle for tea ; 
 When, turning round, with surprise she saw, 
 On the ground beside her, the grave jackdaw 
 
 Eating pickled cockles. 
 5 
 
66 PICKLED COCKLES. 
 
 The kettle falls, the waters pour 
 
 Over jackdaw, grate, and kitchen floor ; 
 
 And Phoebe cries, with excited feeling, 
 
 " Ah ! Friend, I see that thee've been stealing 
 
 The pickled cockles ! " 
 
 The poor jackdaw became very bald 
 From the dire effects of that terrible scald ; 
 He looked a most deplorable fright, 
 And he never after could bear the sight 
 
 Of pickled cockles. 
 
 For a year and a day this poor little bird 
 
 Never opened his mouth to speak a word ; 
 
 At the end of that time an event occurred 
 
 Which caused his voice once more to be heard. 
 
 Tabitha Brown had a brother-in-law. 
 
 As strict a Quaker as ever you saw ; 
 
 His coat was long, and his collar was straight ; 
 
 You knew him at once as a " Friend of weight." 
 
 He wore a broad-brimmed beaver hat. 
 
 And rejoiced in the name of " Nathaniel Pratt." 
 
 Now this " weighty Friend " 
 Came up to attend 
 The famed " Yearly Meeting " of which you have 
 heard, 
 
PICKLED COCKLES. 67 
 
 Which begins, so Friends say, 
 
 " On the first Fourth day 
 Which follows the First day, in order the third, 
 
 Of the Fifth month."— Pray, 
 
 Might I venture to say 
 That this is rather a roundabout way 
 Of describing the third or fourth Wednesday in 
 May? 
 
 *Twas First day morning, and eight or nine 
 
 Most " well-concerned Friends " had met to dine 
 
 At Tabitha Brown's. Nathaniel Pratt, 
 
 Who on the right hand of the hostess sat, 
 
 Still wore, sedately, his broad-brimmed hat; 
 
 But having thus borne his testimony 
 
 In a manner in which he stood quite alone, he 
 
 Began to think that he now was free 
 
 To consider himself at liberty 
 
 To consult his comfort in some degree ; 
 
 So he took off his hat, and exposed to view 
 
 A massive head, which, I assure you. 
 
 Might have served as a model for Giunta, of Pisa, 
 
 Who loved to paint 
 
 A benevolent saint 
 As bald — as bald as Julius Ca;sar, 
 With a halo instead of the laurel rare 
 Which the Senate permitted the latter to wear 
 
68 PICKLED COCKLES. 
 
 To conceal the scarcity of his hair ! 
 (For further particulars see Lempriere.) 
 The jackdaw, whom nobody thought of heeding, 
 Took a lively interest in the proceeding ; 
 And though he had never studied geology, 
 And had no acquaintance with natural laws, 
 It was plain to this cleverest of jackdaws, 
 That effect, as a rule, must proceed from cause. 
 Then, not stopping to make the slightest apology, 
 . With a knowing air 
 
 He perched on the chair 
 Of the " weighty Friend " who had lost his hair, 
 
 And exclaimed in his ear 
 
 In tones loud and clear, 
 But yet with a touch of pity sincere 
 (Inspired, no doubt, by a fellow feeling), 
 ** Ah^ Friend ! I see that THEE've been stealing 
 
 The pickled cockles. ^^ 
 
 Moral. 
 
 Don't steal Pickled Cockles — fresh ones are not dear 
 And if in your mind you are not quite clear 
 Concerning the pickling, look out the receipt on 
 Page three-ninety-one of the late Mrs, Beeton. 
 Thirdly, and lastly — I speak with due cause — 
 I should certainly strongly advise you to pause 
 Before you put faith in the best of Jackdaws ! 
 
THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY. 
 
 Do you wonder at my title ? 
 Wonder at the strange conjunction 
 Of such widely different beings 
 (Different as drab from scarlet) 
 As a Quaker and a Fairy ? 
 Listen, then, and I will tell you. 
 Tell you all the wondrous story 
 Of an excellent young Quaker, 
 Much respected in his Meeting 
 By the name of Joseph Woodfall. 
 
 Drab his coat, and drab his gaiters, 
 And of buttons they were guiltless ; 
 And his hat was made of beaver. 
 And its brim was of the broadest. 
 Plain his dress and plain his speech was, 
 Few his words, but very weighty. 
 And he never read a novel, 
 Never read a work of fiction ; 
 But he studied Fox's journal, 
 
70 THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY. 
 
 And the works of Penn and Barclay ; 
 
 That was where he found amusement ; 
 
 Not in theatres or dancing, 
 
 Not in hunting or in rowing ; 
 
 Bicycles were not invented, 
 
 If they had been he would not have. 
 
 Wasted time in vain diversion ; 
 
 And he always went to Meeting, 
 
 Twice on First day, once on Fourth day, 
 
 Never thought a walk more pleasant. 
 
 Never said he had a headache, 
 
 Or his cold was very serious ! 
 
 Clerk he was to Monthly Meeting, 
 
 Door-keeper at the Yearly ; 
 
 All the meetings he attended ! 
 
 Now this excellent young Quaker 
 Fell in love with fair Priscilla — 
 Fairest maid in all the Meeting ! 
 And he thought, if way would open 
 He would marry fair Priscilla. 
 
 ^any virtues had Priscilla, 
 She was modest, neat, and tidy, 
 Soft her voice, and sweet her temper ; 
 And in all her household duties 
 None could equal fair Priscilla. 
 
THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY. 71 
 
 So he spoke unto the maiden, 
 Spoke with serious words and weighty. 
 Said he saw his duty clearly ; 
 Hoped that well she would consider 
 And the same conclusion come to. 
 Thus he wooed her, thus he won her ; 
 For our Quaker youths and maidens 
 Have hearts very much like others ! 
 And the serious words of Joseph 
 Spoke a love as true and tender 
 As the sonnets of a poet ! 
 And Priscilla's modest answer, 
 " Yea, I think I love thee, Joseph," 
 Meant as much as love-lorn maiden 
 Ever sang to knight of story ! 
 
 But, alas, no one is perfect ! 
 Faults belong to human nature ; 
 And Friend Joseph soon discovered 
 What he thought a serious failing 
 In the maid he loved so dearly. 
 Too light-hearted was the maiden — 
 Light her heart, and light her footstep. 
 And her merry, ringing laughter 
 Vexed the quiet soul of Joseph ; 
 For he thought it was not seemly 
 To be very glad and joyous 
 
72 THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY. 
 
 In this world of sin and sorrow. 
 
 And she loved poetic stories, 
 
 Loved the " Faerie Queene" of Spenser, 
 
 And the bright and fair creations 
 
 Of sweet Shakespeare's wondrous pencil. 
 
 Found glad beauties in the sunshine, 
 
 In the flowers and sparkling dewdrops, 
 
 Which, to honest Joseph's notions, 
 
 Were but vain and idle fancies. 
 
 And she half believed in Fairies ; 
 
 Told him many a tale of wonder, 
 
 And the while he listened to her — 
 
 Listened, puzzled, yet enchanted — 
 
 Thoughts quite sober rose within him : 
 
 Would the habit of truth-telling 
 
 Not be injured by these stories ? 
 
 Could her " yea " and " nay " be sacred 
 
 If she meddled with these fictions ? 
 
 Would her wild imagination 
 
 Lead astray the sweet Priscilla ? 
 
 But, one evening, while he pondered, 
 Much perplexed and puzzled sorely. 
 While he wondered if his duty 
 Bade him leave his fair Priscilla 
 (After words of kindly counsel). 
 Bade him lead a life most lonely, 
 
THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY. 73 
 
 Or seek out another woman 
 Not so fanciful or comely ; 
 While he pondered, puzzled sorely, 
 Suddenly, adown a moonbeam. 
 Gleaming through the open casement. 
 Came a little tiny creature, 
 Fairer than the loveliest mortal ! 
 Blue her eyes as heaven's azure, 
 Golden hair fell o'er her shoulders ; 
 Dainty robes, of brightest colours. 
 Draped her little dancing figure. 
 She was just the sweetest Fairy 
 Human eyes have ever gazed on ! 
 So this little graceful being, 
 Fluttering wings of gauzy silver, 
 'Lighted, gently as a roseleaf. 
 On the outspread hand of Joseph. 
 And, in tones of bell-like sweetness. 
 Said : " O unbelieving mortal, 
 I have come to teach thee wisdom. 
 Dost thou fear that Fairy legends 
 Will affect the truth of woman ? 
 Fairy tales are always truthful ; 
 Deep within them lies a meaning. 
 Meaning mystic, pure, and holy. 
 Only innocence can read it. 
 Only childhood in its freshness, 
 
74 THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY. 
 
 Only guileless men and women. 
 Thou art guileless, O Friend Joseph! 
 But, I fear, thou'rt rather stupid ! 
 Yet, because thy heart is honest, 
 And because thy tongue is truthful 
 (Virtue most beloved of Fairies), 
 I have come to teach thee wisdom. 
 Come with me, and I will show thee 
 Something of this mystic meaning, 
 Something of the works of fancy ! " 
 
 Honest Joseph, looking downwards 
 At the little graceful being, 
 At the sweetest of the Fairies, 
 Said : " I think 'tis not consistent 
 For a man Friend, staid and serious, 
 To be seen with one so flighty ! 
 Is it seemly for a woman 
 To be seen with hair unloosened ? 
 With a gown of gaudy colours, 
 And with jewels vain and sparkling ? 
 Cover up thy wandering tresses 
 With a modest cap of muslin ; 
 Change thy robe of flaring colours 
 For a gown more neat and simple ; 
 Then, perchance, when thou returnest, 
 I will listen to thy teaching. 
 
THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY. 75 
 
 Try to find the mystic meaning — 
 Though, I fear me, weighty wisdom 
 Dwelleth not with one so flighty." 
 
 Then the Fairy's merry laughter 
 
 Followed Joseph's admonition, 
 
 And, without a word, she vanished. 
 
 In her place there stood a figure, 
 
 Clothed in garb of Quaker fashion ; 
 
 And the face was grave and serious, 
 
 And the bright blue eyes were downcast, 
 
 And the golden hair was gathered 
 
 Underneath a cap of muslin ! 
 
 Slyly smiled she at his wonder, 
 
 But in modest tone she queried, 
 
 " Will I suit thee now. Friend Joseph ? " 
 
 Joseph answered, gravely, slowly, 
 
 " Verily, thou art more seemly ; 
 
 I will follow where thou leadest." 
 
 Out into the moonlight dancing 
 Went the little Quaker Fairy ! 
 Honest Joseph followed after, 
 Pondering deeply, puzzled sorelj'-. 
 Then she showed him sights of wonder ; 
 Nothing new she showed unto him. 
 But her wand gave brighter colours 
 
76 THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY, 
 
 To the glorious works of Nature, 
 And he saw a fairer beauty 
 In the sparkling of the dewdrops, 
 In the gleaming of the moonbeams, 
 In the bright and varied colours 
 Of the flowerets in the meadow. 
 Then he heard a sweeter music 
 In the splashing of the fountain, 
 In the ripple of the streamlet, 
 In the song of lark and linnet. 
 And the sound of human laughter, 
 And the songs of human gladness, 
 Seemed no longer sad and sinful. 
 Then she showed him human sorrow. 
 Comforted by sweetest fancy ; 
 Memories of happy childhood, 
 Hopes of brighter days in future, 
 Raising men from weary sadness 
 To a cheerful, bright contentment ; 
 Gilding many a dreary garret, 
 Soothing many a lonely pillow, 
 Bright'ning life in every dwelling. 
 
 Then she turned and spoke unto him : 
 " Fear not for thy wife Priscilla, 
 Wife she will be, for I know it. 
 Sorrow is the lot of all men. 
 
THE QUAKER AND THE FAIRY. 77 
 
 Do not seek it ere it cometh. 
 
 Do not check her gladsome spirit, 
 
 Happiness is right, not sinful. 
 
 Let her listen to the poets, 
 
 Let her tell thee tales of wonder. 
 
 She will lead thy sober reason 
 
 To the brighter realms of fancy ; 
 
 And her wild imagination 
 
 Will be sobered by thy judgment. 
 
 Ye are suited to each other ! " 
 
 Then the Fairy vanished slowly ! 
 And the excellent young Quaker 
 Woke from out his wondrous slumber. 
 From that day a change came o'er him ; 
 Still his hat was made of beaver, 
 Still its brim was of the broadest. 
 Still his speech was plain and friendly, 
 Still he studied Fox and Barclay, 
 Still he was a good young Quaker ; 
 But he listened to Priscilla, 
 Listened to her pretty fancies. 
 Did not check her joyous spirits ; 
 Nay, he sometimes smiled to see them. 
 So he married fair Priscilla, 
 And, in words of good old story, 
 " They lived happy ever after." 
 
A ROMANCE OF A FRIEND'S 
 BONNET. 
 
 " Unless Virtue guide us, our Choice must be wrong" 
 
 Penn's "Maxims," 256, 
 
 One First day morn, I ween, 
 At ** Meeting " might be seen, 
 
 At the end 
 Of a sober boyish row, 
 On a form made short and low, 
 
 A small " Friend," 
 
 Feeling very new and strange, 
 Looking round him for a change 
 
 To employ 
 His thoughts, which wandered free, 
 For he was, as all might see, 
 
 A new boy. 
 
 But a short space did divide 
 The men's from the women's side. 
 And near him. 
 
A ROMANCE OF A FRIEND'S BONNET. 79 
 
 Also at the short form's end, 
 Sat a little " Woman Friend " 
 Neat and prim. 
 
 Her gentle, serious face 
 
 Seemed to suit the time and place ; 
 
 Yet he tried 
 To compose his thoughts in vain, 
 They wandered off again 
 
 To her side I 
 
 On the form, before each young 
 Woman Friend, a bonnet hung. 
 
 Do not smile ! 
 Covered each in dove-like hue ; 
 Fashioned plainly in the true 
 
 Quaker style. 
 
 These bonnets, he did find, 
 With copy-books were lined, 
 
 And he then 
 On each neatly-written page 
 Read the maxims grave and sage, 
 
 Of Friend Penn. 
 
 And the bonnet, which he deemed 
 To the little maiden seemed 
 To belong, 
 
8o A ROMANCE OF A FRIEND'S BONNET. 
 
 Spoke thus, with silent voice : 
 " Unless Virtue guide, our Choice 
 Must be wrong." 
 
 'Twas ** Second Meeting" day, 
 And the girls had gone away 
 
 In grave state ; 
 And the boy then turned to heed 
 The words the Clerk did read, 
 
 With due weight. 
 
 'Twas Query number three. 
 Which the Clerk read solemnly 
 
 Up above. 
 " Do Friends," the boy preferred 
 To translate what he heard, 
 
 "Fall in love?"* 
 
 And in his childish mind 
 He an answer seemed to find 
 
 Full and true ; 
 " To the best of our belief," 
 Ran the wording, quaint and brief, 
 
 " Yes, they do." 
 
 * III. Query. " Are Friends preserved in love one towards 
 another ; if differences arise, is due care taken speedily to end them ; 
 and are Friends careful to avoidj and discourage tale bearing and 
 detraction?" — Rules of Discipline. 
 
A ROMANCE OF A FRIEND'S BONNET. 8i 
 
 Boy and girl grew youth and maid, 
 Trained beneath the firm and staid 
 
 Quaker rule ; 
 Their paths ran side by side 
 For a time, then severed wide, — 
 
 They left school. 
 
 The young man went astray 
 From the good old-fashioned way 
 
 Of his youth ; 
 His collar was turned down, 
 His hat, from brim to crown, 
 
 Changed, in sooth ! 
 
 His bow had quite a grace, 
 And " Sunday " took the place 
 
 Of "First day"; 
 He called " Seventh month," " July," 
 And " business Meetings," " dry," 
 
 Sad to say ! 
 
 Light literature he read ; 
 
 He learned to dance ('tis said). 
 
 When he penned 
 
 His letters ('twas a blot) 
 
 He wrote, " Dear Sir," and not 
 
 " Esteemed Friend." 
 
 6 
 
82 A ROMANCE OF A FRIEND'S BONNET. 
 
 Yet still the maiden's face, 
 And her simple Quaker grace, 
 
 In his heart, 
 With the words of love and truth 
 Which he learned in early youth, 
 
 Had a part : 
 
 And oft, when doubts assailed 
 And temptation half prevailed, 
 
 " Yet be strong," 
 Cried memory's warning voice, 
 *' Unless Virtue guide, our Choice 
 
 Must be wrong." 
 
 Though his behaviour shocks 
 Friends of views orthodox, 
 
 And minds deeper ; 
 At "Yearly-Meeting" he 
 By appointment came to be 
 
 A doorkeeper. 
 
 " Would the present be the time 
 To receive Rebecca Pryme, 
 
 We would learn. 
 And another Woman Friend 
 Under, as we apprehend, 
 
 A concern ? " 
 
A ROMANCE OF A FRIEND'S BONNET. 83 
 
 The young Woman Friend who bore 
 This message to the door, 
 
 Where he stood, 
 Wore a bonnet, plain and prim, 
 And the sight seemed unto him 
 
 Very good ! 
 
 For beneath the " friendly" shade 
 
 Was the sweet face of the maid ' 
 
 (Thus it proved) 
 Whom, that First day long ago, 
 When they sat in silent row 
 
 He had loved ! 
 
 On no very distant day. 
 
 When there seemed an '* open way," 
 
 And he came 
 To her, and spoke his mind. 
 She too, he joyed to find. 
 
 Felt the same. 
 
 Guided by Virtue's voice, 
 
 Bless'd was this young man's choice ; 
 
 And the twain 
 In the Meeting-house once more 
 Where they sat in days of yore 
 
 Met again. 
 
84 A ROMANCE OF A FRIENDS BONNET. 
 
 The Friends assembled there 
 In the quiet waiting share 
 
 With the bride, 
 And the husband, soon to be. 
 Who are sitting silently, 
 
 Side by side. 
 
 Then he takes her by the hand, 
 • And the two together stand, 
 
 Ent'ring life ; — 
 " Until our lives shall end. 
 Dear Friends, I take this Friend 
 For my wife ; 
 
 " With assistance from Above 
 I promise faith and love " 
 
 (Thus he saith) 
 " As befits the married state, 
 Till the Lord shall separate 
 
 Us by death.' 
 
THE KING'S PUDDING. 
 
 'TwAS drawing near to happy Christmastide ; 
 
 A sound of chopping, mingled with the hum 
 
 Of merry voices, reached my ears. The scent 
 
 Of plums and spices filled the frosty air 
 
 With a rich, balmy fragrance ; and my thoughts 
 
 Reverted to that pudding made of old 
 
 In Arthur's time. 'Tis thus the legend runs : — 
 
 Three pecks of barley meal the King obtained, 
 
 Some say he stole. 'Tis well for them the sword 
 
 Excalibur, that mystic, wondrous brand, 
 
 Is safe within the keeping of a maid, 
 
 The Lady of the Lake. — May shame alight 
 
 On those who dare, with false and slanderous 
 
 tongues, 
 T'assail the honour of the blameless king ! — 
 This meal King Arthur took, and with the aid 
 Of all his knights and Guinevere his queen 
 He made the pudding so renowned in song ! 
 
86 THE KING'S PUDDING. 
 
 He rolled it out, then with a liberal hand 
 He placed therein a goodly store of plums 
 And that it might be rich, but not too rich, 
 Two lumps of fat (of suet or of lard. 
 We learn not which, enough to say 'twas fat) 
 He added, not by weight, and not by guess, 
 Such clumsy methods must perforce suffice 
 In these degenerate days. In Arthur's time 
 Love brightened all the common things of life. 
 And poetry was linked with every act, 
 However humble, and so Arthur used 
 A standard worthy of a knightly king. 
 Each lump was fashioned of the size and shape 
 Of the white dainty thumb of Guinevere ! 
 Thus closed his task. Then Galahad arose 
 And brought the bag, of samite pure and white 
 As his own fame ; and Tristram tied the string 
 And placed the pudding in a mighty pot, 
 Which hissed and bubbled with triumphant glee 
 As though it knew the honour which it gained 
 In being chosen from the common herd 
 To boil a pudding fashioned by a king ! 
 For hours the pudding boiled. Then Lancelot 
 Essayed to take it up — for in all feats 
 Requiring steady eye and skilful hand 
 Sir Lancelot of the Lake was ever first. 
 Around him gathered soon a brilliant throng. 
 
THE KING'S PUDDING. 87 
 
 Watching with bated breath the dexterous knight, 
 
 Who lodged the pudding safely on a dish, 
 
 And placed it deftly on the table round. 
 
 Then all the Court did eat, and praised the King, 
 
 Whose knowledge of the peaceful household arts 
 
 Was equal to his prowess in the field ; — 
 
 And what they could not eat, the careful Queen, 
 
 In loving competition with her lord, 
 
 Fried for their breakfast on the morrow morn. 
 
 Then Enid took her harp and sang the strain 
 
 Familiar to our ears from childhood's days : 
 
 " When good King A rthur ruled this land. 
 
 He was a goodly king ! 
 He took tJiree pecks of barley meal, 
 To make a bag pudding ! 
 
 " A bag pudding tJie King did make. 
 
 And stuffed it full of plums ; 
 And in it put two lumps of fat. 
 
 As big as my two thumbs I 
 
 " The King and Queen did eat thereof, 
 
 Aftd noblemen beside ; 
 A nd what they could not eat that day 
 
 Tlie Queen next morning fried ! " 
 
 She ended, and in deep prophetic voice 
 Grave Merlin spake : " Let future ages learn 
 
; THE KING'S PUDDING. 
 
 A lesson from this pudding made in sport. — 
 
 Oh, English men and women of all time, 
 
 Deal out your Christmas cheer with bounteous 
 
 hand, 
 But let not sinful waste decrease your store ! 
 Whate'er your rank or age do not disdain 
 To stir the pudding for the Christmas board ; 
 So shall you follow the example set 
 By good King Arthur and his beauteous queen." 
 
DOROTHY. 
 
 (A TALE OF H ADDON HALL.) 
 
 Gaily the lights are shining 
 
 In stately Haddon Hall, — 
 For a bridal night must needs be bright, 
 
 And merrily goes the ball ; 
 'Tis whispered another such wedding 
 
 Will not be far to seek, 
 For a lovely pair are the daughters fair 
 
 Of Vernon,—" King o' the Peak." 
 
 Oh, cool is the little chamber 
 
 Adjoining the great ball-room, — 
 And no one wonders that Dolly 
 
 Should rest in the partial gloom ; 
 And no one recks of the mighty love 
 
 That holdeth her heart in thrall. 
 Of the tears that rise as she sadly cries, 
 
 " Farewell to Haddon Hall ! " 
 
90 DOROTHY. 
 
 She gently closes the portal 
 
 That leads from Haddon Hall, 
 And the stone stair faintly echoes 
 
 The sound of her light foot-fall ; 
 She passes the lighted windows, 
 
 And steals in the night away. — 
 'Tis the story of old — love versus gold, — 
 
 And love has won the day. 
 
 There lingers a young wood-cutter 
 
 In the glades near Haddon Hall : 
 Yet never a king of the forest 
 
 'Neath his axe need fear to fall : 
 He waiteth now in the darkness, 
 
 One hand holds his noble steed. 
 While the other is laid on his trusty blade : — 
 
 A knightly churl indeed ! 
 
 A rustle of silken garments, 
 
 A glitter of jewels rare, 
 A gleam of gold 'neath the cloak's dark fold, 
 
 And Dolly is standing there ; — 
 One moment of hurried greeting, 
 
 He lifts her over the wall, — 
 And away they ride, that youth and his bride,- 
 
 The heiress of Haddon Hall. 
 
DOROTHY. ~ 91 
 
 A knight and gentle lady 
 
 Hold sway in Haddon Hall, 
 And children fair bless the happy pair 
 
 And love is lord of all. — 
 And a ducal race shall proudly trace 
 
 Its lofty pedigree, 
 Back thro' ages gone, to the brave Sir John 
 
 And the Lady Dorothy. 
 
 The ivy twines round the turrets 
 
 Of stately Haddon Hall, 
 But Dolly's face, with its girlish grace, 
 
 Still smiles from the old oak wall ; 
 And youths and maidens whisper low 
 
 Of love that can do and dare, 
 As they rest awhile near the ancient pile 
 
 On Dorothy Vernon's stair. — 
 
 They say you are wronged, sweet Dolly, 
 
 By this tale of Haddon Hall, 
 That the course of true love ran smoothly, 
 
 And you never eloped at all ; 
 For you were a model daughter. 
 
 As dutiful as fair ; 
 So you ne'er took flight, on that festal night, 
 
 Adown that old stone stair. 
 
92 DOROTHY. 
 
 For Sir John took the orthodox method 
 
 Of winning the prize which he gained ; 
 And the needful consent of parents 
 
 Was duly asked, and obtained ; 
 So he never stood in the darkness, 
 
 While the lights gleamed bright at the ball. 
 Nor risked his life, to claim as his wife 
 
 The heiress of Haddon Hall. — 
 
 It does not sound so romantic, 
 
 But may be 'twas all for the best ; — 
 Yet the ** peacock in pride " shows side by side 
 
 With the boar of the Vernon crest ; 
 And the old stone stair still standeth, 
 
 And the picture hangs on the wall, 
 To prove without fail the truth of my tale 
 
 Of the heiress of Haddon Hall ! 
 
 "W. SjicajgJii * Sctis, Pri»i<ers, tttUv Lane, Lor.dcv, E.C. 
 
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 " In descriptive writing, in simplicity and gracefulness of style, and in perfect 
 mastery over her characters, Mrs. Barr can hold her own with any living English 
 novelist." — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 A Rose of a Hundred Leaves. By Amelia E. Barr, 
 Author of " Jan Vedder's Wife," " Friend Olivia/' &c. With 
 Numerous Illustrations. Printed on a superfine paper. Hand- 
 some cloth binding. 6s. 
 
 Friend Olivia. A Quaker Story of the Time of the 
 Commonwealth. By Amelia E. Barr. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 J. Greenleaf Whittier, the Quaker Poet, who has just died, wrote 
 TO Mrs. Barr: "My Dear Briend, — But for failing health and sighi, which 
 make even a brief note a paivful effort, I should long ago have told thee how much 
 I adtnire thy FRIEND OLIVIA. I read it as it appeared in ' 'I he Century^ 
 and irtari'elled at its admirable portraiture of the early Quakers and their times. 
 As a Quaker, I heartily thank thee for it. I shall read it again in book fonn, 
 though my eyes do not allow me to use them much. Let me tell thee that, though 
 I read but sparingly any new literary works, I have read every book of thine with 
 great interest. I congratulate thee on their great success, and am gratefully thy 
 sincere friend,— '^onti G. Whittier." 
 
 In a variety of handsome cloth bindings, or bound uniformly, crown 8vo. 
 
 THREE SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCE EACH. 
 
 In Spite of Himself 
 A Border Shepherdess 
 Paul and Christina 
 The Squire of Sandal Side 
 The Bowof Orange Ribbon 
 Between Two Loves 
 A Daughter of Fife 
 Jan Vedder's Wife 
 *»* A new and cheap edition of "Jan Vedder's Wife " is now 
 issued. In paper cover, price \s. 6d. 
 
 The Harvest of the Wind, and Other Stories. 
 By Amelia E. Barr. Crown 8vo, paper, is. 
 
 A Sister to Esau 
 She Loved a Sailor 
 The Last of the Mac- 
 
 Allisters 
 Woven of Love and Glory 
 Feet of Clay {with portrait 
 
 of author) 
 The Household of McNeil 
 
MAR 6 1986 
 
 JAMES CLARKE &^ CO.'S LIST. 
 
 NOVELS BY EMMA JANE WORBOISE. 
 
 J\/EIV AND CHEAP EDITION. 
 
 *^ These Novels, which have hitherto been sold at Five Shillings 
 each, are now issued at 
 
 THREE SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCE EACH. 
 
 Thornycroft Hall 
 
 MiLLICENT KeNDRICK 
 
 St. Beetha's 
 Violet Vaughan 
 Margaret Torrington 
 The Fortunes of Cyril 
 
 Denham 
 Singlehurst Manor 
 overdale 
 Grey and Gold 
 Mr. Montmorency's 
 
 Money 
 Nobly Born 
 Chrystabel 
 Canonbury Holt 
 Husbands and Wives 
 The House of Bondage 
 Emilia's Inheritance 
 
 Father Fabian 
 Oliver Westwood 
 Lady Clarissa 
 Grey House at Endlestone 
 Robert Wreford's Daugh- 
 ter 
 The Brudenells of Brude 
 The Heirs of Errington 
 Joan Carisbroke 
 A Woman's Patience 
 The Story of Penelope 
 
 SiSSIE 
 
 The Abbey Mill 
 Warleigh's Trust 
 Esther Wynne 
 Fortune's Favourite 
 His Next of Kin, 
 
 The following y. 6d. Voluvtes are now issued at Three Shillings each. 
 
 Married Life ; or, The Story of Phillip and Edith. 
 Our New House ; or, Keeping up Appearances. 
 
 Heartsease in the Family 
 Maude Bolingbroke 
 
 Amy Wilton 
 Helen Bury 
 
 A limited number of the following Novels, published at Four 
 Shillings and Sixpence, are now offered at Two Shillings and 
 Sixpence. 
 
 Campion Court 
 
 Evelyn's Story 
 Lottie Lonsdale 
 
 Sir Julian's Wife 
 
 The Lillingstones 
 
 The Wife's Trials 
 
 1/11/92 
 
000 560 726 
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed. 
 
 QL APRinS9 
 
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