f:i frz,ry,'y r-// .'j','/",-^,. /,-v. THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. BEGGAIi MANUSCRIPTS: AN ORIGINAL MISCELLANY IN VERSE AND PROSE B^ ^bonine Jncc SXJBSCE,II=TI03Sr EIDITIOIST. Copyright. JDlachburn : North-East Lancashire Printing and Publishing Company, Limited. 1888. Contents. Xiist of Subscribers Autobiog-rapliy of the Author Introductory i-'reface Explanatory Note Dedication The Author to the Book Lancashire : A Toast The Scratchback Ckib... Looking at Death To My Dictionary The Death of ]\[oses The " Gods " at Home (Prose Sketch) The People A Workman's Hoine ... An Old Man's Story Dabbling (Essay) A Daily Prayer ... Gleesom'sLuck The Cat and tne Mouse ]\Iy Old Friend James ... Poesj' and Art For one night only (Prose Sketch) A Kiss ... The W ays of Peace To a Bird in Suninier Crookie Bland Who can tell ? Love, Rank, and Riches A Reminiscence ... Eclipsed Hope Alone with the Dead Runawayisms (Essay) Written to Order A Hymn of Praise The Days Gone By On Freedom Resignation ... What does it matter ? Chronicles of a Clan On Friendship The March of Genius (Prose Sketch) A Good Old Song Latter Wit ... A Brief in E.xtenso To a Dead Bride 937799 PAOE vii. 1 3 5 7 9 9 10 10 11 12 13 14 15 15 17 17 17 19 •20 •20 '21 23 24 24 25 27 28 29 30 30 31 32 32 34 34 34 35 36 36 38 38 40 41 42 43 IV. CONTENTS. This is the Land ... A''isioiis of Home Checkmates (Essaj") Love Song An Address to a Cat The Call of Duty The Last Wish (Prose Sketch) Une.Kpected ... The Might of Right (E.ss.iy) The Voice Beyond An Acrostic Invoking the Muse Only a Year When Men are Sad Sulks (Es.say) A ^Midnight Soliloquy .. Beautiful Things of Life ... Watching 'em off (Prose Sketch) Dedication Shake.sperian The New Estate Hard Lines On Criticism (Essay) Life as it is A Bully Kindly Deeds Strayed Witty-Schism Glossary of Dialectisms By the Way Nutshell Philosophy ... Helene — A Meniorj' (Prose Sketch) A Woman Forlorn Here's a Health ... Soliloquy — On Reflection Our Willie (Prose Sketch) . Recitative Commemorative The Tug of War ... System (E.ssay) A Song of p]tnotion The Work of Drink ... Doin Weel Disappointments (Essay) Turning Teetotal... Blackliurn's Greeting ... Only One (Prose Sketch) . An Open Heart Slow and Sure A Debating House Celebration (iood Owd Yorkshire The House of God Muggleton's Tea Party (Prose Sketch) Looking Back The Blackburn Poets, 1888 At Last ' ... A Tale of Love ... A Mad Adventure (Prose Sketch) The Lost Story ... How it happened (Prose Sketch) A Winter's Night... My Birthday Indecision (Essay) PAGK 44 44 45 45 46 49 50 52 55 56 57 57 58 59 60 60 61 62 64 64 65 67 6S 69 69 70 75 76 78 78 81 83 83 84 84 87 88 89 89 91 93 94 94 96 97 99 100 102 102 103 104 loe 107 108 109 110 113 114 116 118 119 CONTEXTS. All hour in "The Sun" Veritas Odium Parit (Prose Sketch)... Tekkin t' New Mayor tut Church Blessed Moments Dei (iratia (Prose Sketch) Love A Smiling Face rive minutes with a ^lediiim (Prose Sketch). A Straight Appeal Entrapped, or a Mad Salvation (Prose Sketch Modern Scepticism (Prose Sketch) Adieu PAUE 119 120 124 126 126 130 131 131 134 137 140 142; Xist of Subscvibevs. NAMES. ADDRESSES. Abbott, Joseph ... ... ... • • ■ Kenyon Street Abrani, W. A., F.R.H.S., Editor of the Blackburn Standard and Weekly E^yress ... .... .•• Adelaide Terrace Ainsworth, Thomas, Solicitor 25, King Street Almond, J. ... ... Langlio J late, Ba}' Horse Hotel, Blackburn Almond, John ... ... >•• 100, Grimshaw Park Almond, Thomas ... ... ... 34, Penny Street Appleby, Aid. Edgar, J.P. ... ... ... Wilpshire Grange Atkinson, John ... ... ... ... 15, Isherwood Street Boyle, Councillor John Birtwistle, Micah Brierley, Jos., C.E. ... Bailey, J. H., Borough Treasurer ... Binns, James Briggs, Samuel ... Bui-nett, W. H., Editor of the Evenincj Bispham, Anthony Boardman, Thomas ... Blades, William... Ballard, William Bryan, Mrs. A. ... Bryan, Arthur Bx-yan, A. 0. Baron, Wm., ( Bill o' Jack's ) ... Baron Jos. Baron, John S. ])all, (Jeorge, Trade Secretary ' ... Ball, James Backhouse, T. J., Solicitor ... Barker Geo., Trade Secretary Blackshaw, James Carter, Absalom Clifton, Thos. ... Cowburn, T. L. ... Braeside, Revidge 27, Harwood Street ... Richmond Terrace Borough Treasurer's Office ... 24, Feilden Street 74, Ashworth Street Ex2Jress& Standard. . .Revidge Road ... Moss Street, Daisyfield Exchange Hotel 39, Whittaker Street Whalley Banks . . . The Spread Eagle Hotel 88, Ellen Street 65, Larkhill 9, East Street, Witton 7, Edgware Road Astlcy Gate 78, Ecclcs Street The Merchants' Hotel York Cliff; Langho Weavers' Institute 5, Portsmouth Street 5, Proctor Street The Brewers' Arms, Novas ... 55, Church Street VIU. LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. NAMES. Culshaw, A. Crook, AVilliam Cliff, R. B., Solicitor Crossley, S., Solicitor. Cottam, Henry ... ADDRESSES. 3, Princes Street 4, Mile End, Revidge Road ... Library Street ... 1, Richmond Terrace 21, Hodson street 26, King Street Ragged School, Bent' Street Davidson, J. K., L.R.C.P. Dixon, James Dodd, Francis ... ... ... ... 12, King Street Duckworth, John ... ... ... 73, Charlotte Street Duxbury Thos. . . . Commercial (Temjjerance) Hotel, Station Road Davies, Henry, Newspaper Proprietor . . . Winckley Street, Preston Darle}^ C. E., Solicitor ... .:. 5, Lord Street West Ditchtield, Wm., (Jlerk to School Board School Board Offices Eastwood, Joseph ... ... ... 15, Richmond Terrace Eastwood, Councillor Robt. T., (Grand Master of Oddfellows, Manchester Unity) Regent Street Farren, Moses Farrer-Baynes, Aid. Thos., J. P. Fenton, Thos., Trade Secretary Fisher, J. W. ... Fairclough, R. Fletcher, John R., Solicitor Fox, John D. 31, Withers Street, Audley Ash House 63, Whalley Range ...183, Whalley New Road 292, Whalley Range ... 12, Preston New Road "See-Saw" Cottage, Bingley, Yorks. Gaine, W. E. L., Town Clerk, &c ., Gifford, R. Lord Graham, Wm. Graham, John Grosart, The Rev. A. B., D.D., LLB. Green, Wm. Garstang, W. J Town Clerk's Office Salford Bridge 61 and 63, Lower Audley Street 16, John Street Brooklyn House 72, Fisher Street Lord Street West Hill and Dale, Messrs. Holden, Thos. ... Holt, Elijah, Conservative Agent Hunt, Robert, Sergeant-Major Holloway, F. J. Hughes, John Hindle, Heni-y Hacking Ed., Market Inspector Hacking, T. J. ... Hargreaves, J. R. Haythornthwaite, W. Thwaites' Arcade 66, Whalley Range 143, Whalley New Road 35, Mincing Lane Kensington Chambers ... Venion Street 66, King Sti'eet .Market Inspector's Office 8, Preston New Road ... 29, Feildeu Street Cherry Tree LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. IX. NAMES. Hayhurst, Wm. Hindle, Arthur ... Holland, W. T., Solicitor Hamer, (,'ouncillor Edwin Henton, Tlios. Higson, Wm. Hughes, Thos. ADDRESSES. Lord Street Richmond Terrace Nortligate Braeside, llevidge The Nag's Head Inn 3, Burlington Street 56, Penny Street Irwine,*The Rev. A. P., M.A. The Vicarage, Bingley, Yorks. Johnson, R. W. ... 6, Hazel Bank Kilshaw, Richard, Temperance Missionary Kinstrey, Adam Shear Brow 9, John Street Lewis, Mrs. E. A. Lewis George, Chief Constable... Leaver, Councillor J as. Leaver, Jas., junr. Library, The Free Teetotal Mission Room Chief Constable's Office ...4, Duke's Brow 18, LTnion Street Blackburn McCallum, J. B., Borough McEwen, J. Mitchell, John Marsh, John Middlebrook, R. Marshall, A. Marshall, J. Martin, Isaac S Martin, J. M. IL, M.D. Moran, Wm. Engineer ... Borough Engineer's Office 70, Penny Street The Alliance (Temperance) Hotel, Northgate 9-5, x\ddison Street 2, King William Street 44, Church Street ...66, Larkhill Terrace Cjranvillc Terrace ... Arnheim, Preston New Road ..." 44, Bank Top Norris, John, Liberal Agent Nelson, W. H. ... .. Tlie Reform Club 43, Blackl^irn Street Ogdcn, S. R., Borough Gas Engineer Borough Gas Engineer's Office Peel, W. IL T. ... Panter, TUc llev. C. H. Pickersgill, R Pickvij), Hy., junr. ... Pickup, Jno. Pye, Jose])h Pinder. W. H. 1, Feilden Street 32, Bold Street •^)8, Duckworth Street 68, Northgate 17, Garuett Street ... Joseph Street 114, WhalleyOld Itoad LIST OP SUBSCRIBERS. NAMES. Platts, T., Solicitor Parker, Thos. ADDRESSES. .Tacketts Street 34, Ice Street Quail, Jesse, Editor (if tlie N'orthern Daily Telegraph Duke's Brow- Roberts, James Riishton, J. H. ... Robinson, Wni. Ramsbottom, J. T. Rile}', Richard, Solicitor Rutherford, J., (His Worship the Mayor of Blackburn) ... Town Hall Rushton, T. ... ... ... ... The Evening Post Office . The Mount, The Clarence Hotel . . . Addison Street 17, Feilden Street ... Russell Street 21, Victoria Street RidsdcJe, Thos. King Street Scott, Geo., Postmaster Shutt, Thos., Director Refuge Assurance Scholcs, Chris. ... Slater, J. T.... Slater, Thos. Shaw, J. W. Simpson, A. AV. R., Architect, etc. ... Sharpies, Henry ... ... 104, Stirrup, Walter, Architect, kc. Stark, Archibald South worth, Ceo. ... The Postmaster's Office Co.... HornclifFe, Duke's Brow Mill Hill 13, Ebony Street 94, Randall Street 88, Whalley New Road Hazel Bank Ingham Street, Higher Audley 6, Richmond Terrace 14, Stanley Street, Greenbank 10, SnajDC Street Taylor, Mrs. L. ... ... ... ..6, Simmons Street Tyrrell, W., Registrar of Births & Deaths... Registry Office, Simmons St. Thompson, Jno. ... ... ... ... 50, Market-place Townley, Jas. ... ... ... ... 29, Montague Street Tempo, Henry, Schoolmaster ... ... ... 1, Holland Street Toulmin, J. and G., Newspaper Proprietors ... The Times Office Tanton, Thos. ... ... 68a, Parkwood Street, Keighley Wria:ht, Jas. Ward, Wm., Ex Chief Constable Walker, Gregory... Walton, William Wilkinson, Jas. ... Walmsley, L. S. Whitworth, Joseph Wilcock, James, Director Refuge Assurance Wilson, R., Journalist Wills, J. A. ... Walkdcn, J. T. ... Whitehead, J. W^ Co. 32, Anvil Street Chief Constable's Office John Street 13, King William Street 9.1, New Park Street ... Kensington Place 6, Abraham Street ... 55, Montague Street ... Oswald Street ... 8, Darwen Street 6, Granville Terrace ... 53, Feilden Street AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF Thomas Inch. HOMAS INCE, the author of this book, was born at Bingler, ^J in the West Riding of Yorkshire, on the 11th NovembLT, 1850- His father, having taken the Queen's shilling and enlisted, ^''^'' whilst he was yet a child he was taken along with a j'ounger brother and sister to the Wigan Union Workhouse, where he was educated. Having been placed twice by the authorities in service — - first with a collier, and afterwards with a yeoman on Sir R. Gerard's estate — through circumstances over which he had no control, at the age of fifteen, he found himself back in the neighbourhood of his birthplace, from whence he made occasional ramblings through the country, until his •25th year. He has been twice married : first, in 1875, to a Miss Wild, of Bingley, who was accidentally drowned within si.x; weeks after the event ; and secondly, to his present wife, who was born at Haworth, but settled at Bingley also. She was the youngest daughter of Mr. Joseph Leach, who hailed from Woolwich, and whose brother Abraham (a sailor) was lost with Franklin in his North Pole Exi)l()ration. His brother died in his 20th year, amongst the strangers wlio had ado]jted him at Farnworth, near Bolton ; whilst his sister is marrioil, and resides at Keighley. As he has never been blessed witli a strong constitution, nor been taught any trade, it needs only to be mentioned that his experience of life has been anything but the rosiest. He has been honoured of late with a place in the list of " Yorkshire Poets : Past and Present," a serial work which is now publishing at Bradford, under the editorshi[) of Dr. Forsliaw of that town ; and in addition to being a fre(pient contributor to the Blackburn press, he has also been favoured with a letter of thanks from Their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales, for a poem written by him, entitled " Blackburn's Greeting," in honour of their visit to the town, on May 9th, 1888. He is at present resident in Blackburn, and has been there for some years ; living with his wife and son, and following the profession of a herbalist. Jntrobuctou^ preface. fjSr presenting this work to the reader, I venture to avail myself of the if\ liberty of offering a few remarks which to my mind appear very M ajjplicable in this connection. I refer to the extreme difficulty ■^^ which bars the way to success against any humble aspirant to literary fame who may, perchance, have had, like myself, to fight against adversity from his youth i\\). I make no ])rctensions above my deserts, but I cannot refrain from thinking that the subscribers to this volume attach some little merit to my endeavours, and in justice to them I feel called upon to protest against the principle which prevents many ca[)able but indigent writers from receiving encouragement for meritorious Avork. I know my own shortcomings too well — a neglected education and unf(:»rtunate surroundings have turned me out as I am, in truth, an unfinished article ; but there have been, and are still, many worthier devotees to what was and is to them — and to m3'self — a noble attainment, and a labour of love. The converting of genius or talent, by any process whatsoever, into hackneyed effort, is disastrous to a peo]jle's well-being ; but when instances of this kind are continually occurring, and bliglited hopes and broken hearts are the peculiar spoils of genius, then, I say, that the charge is not an mifounded one. All that is truest and best in our national instincts — all that is dearest and most refined in our private sentiments — are embodied in the lives of those unlucky beings, whose hearts have warmed with the honest fervour of literary ambition, Init have been often in the very budding of their genius ruthlessly despoiled b}' cynical, cold, and cutting neglect. Amongst local writers wlio have suffered in this respect may be mentioned Wildon, Nicholson, ami Prince. I care nothing for the note of admiration for life services when the worker has de[)artcd hence, and gone beyond all worldly needs; for nothing can comi)are creditably one tittle Avith the evidences of the hand and braiii of departed worth. Poets and writers there have alscj l)een of immortal fame, who during life had to battle witli tlie pangs of hunger and remorse, aided considerably by the neglect of a selfish world, but whose life-work has since been used as foundations for the upraising of immense fortunes to sjjeculators and strangers to the family. My simple, earnest wish, is then, to infuse, if possible, by my hiunl)]e efforts, sometliing more of love into the relations of liumankind. The liarslmess of tutelage may occasion grief — tlie venom of jealousy may beget ill-will — the spleen of IXTRODUCTORY PREFACE. rivalry may encourage strife — but my desire is to inspire friendship. In the Spirit of Love I ofter the Book, free from egotism I yield it, contented to abide by your verdict. If, when that verdict be given, I shall have succeeded in inspiring a truer manliness of feeling for others who choose to tread the beaten track t)f literature, tlien I know that I shall feel over a thousand times repaid for any iuilicticju which follows. The more than tinge of melancholy 'which pi-evades many of the selections, will, I trust, be excused to a certain extent, for I may in extenuation plead that a man can scarcely be expected to smile whose heart is torn and bleeding. THE AUTHOR. Blackhurn, Autumn, ISSS. Eyplanator^ flote- S the term, " Beggar Manuscripts," apiDears to occasion a feeling of surprise, and as I have no desire to screen my reasons for adopting such a title, I have to ask the indulgence of subscribers and readers whilst I tender the explanation. If the contents of a book prove satisfactory to the reader, I hold that it matters very little indeed as to what other distinction it receives ; but I will admit that if a name had to be chosen on account of the fitness of things, there is no name so applicable to this collection of writings as the one I have chosen. As an unfortunate I have played my part in life, tossed by the winds of adversity and misfortune here and there ; during such periods of distress I have penned most of the contents of this book, and forlornly I have struggled on their behalf for the recognition and sympathy of the literary world. I have begged for them to be purchased ; 1 have begged for publication ; I have begged for fair play and freedom ; and, begging ever on their behalf, they have beggared me, and are " beggars " indeed. Again, I have no sympathy with the assumptions of those who use high-sounding and meaningless titles for their efforts, and believe iirmly that whilst the book may yield some little pleasure to every reader, as " Beggar Manuscripts," they will be no less respected. Therefore, I trust that this terse confession will give satisfaction to the curious, and in no sense detract from the good intentions and merits of Yours truly, THE AUTHOR. Bebication* ^^"•^S it is necessary, now-a-days, to follow the fashions, in order to march with the times, I find it devolving jll m\ upon me, therefore, to write out these paragraphs to ■X- -x- * THIS is to me, indeed, a very pleasant task ; inasmuch as it enables me to speak collectively to the various friends who have, during my career, kindly assisted by their efforts to press onwards to this end. * * * THEREFORE, I do, with heartfelt pleasure and gratitude, hereby BcMcatC tblS, m\2 jTltSt "SBOOll, unto those Friends, cme and all, wlierever tliey uia}- be, and in whatever station of life — subscribers or non-subscribers — as a verv small token of my deep appreciation of their goodness, and in recognition of the charity in their hearts. * * * AND I do most earnestly trust that each one now living may be blessed with Happiness and Good Health, the best of all boons ; and that their generous dispositions may at all times prove, not only their own comforters, but a constant joy to those about them. * THAT each one may accept tliis Dedication in the kindly spirit which animates the writer is the best wish of the ■same, and in testimony thci'eof, I am jjroud to remain, Your most devoted, THOMAS INCE. MGM ll^I]nS6^IPTS.-<- V X X X V Zbc Hulboi* to tbc :S6oo\\* IF ever any book imist cost but lialf so mncli as thee, Methinks it were much better lost than e'er a book to be ; Through good report, and evil, too, have I upheld thee dear, To prove at last a record true of many a busy year. 'Tis true, indeed, I loved too well to be thy faithful scrilie, Thouyli thankless was the task tliat fell, my pruchfint to imbibe, A nightly and a daily toil thou recklessly entailed, In harvesting the varied spoil tliat sometimes I bewailed. Perplexing and unkindly, too, the work has proved to be. Although from dangers not a few have I protected thee, Throvigh nps and downs, in many a guise, companions have we been. As though in truth thou wert a prize that is but rarely seen. However, tliou wast my delight, although sometimes a bore, And, but for tliee a sorry plight would mine have Vieen for sure ; In trouble and in pleasure too, together we have sped. And so I will not cry. Adieu ! till memory be dead. Xancasbirc : H ZToast. It lias often been stated that Cotton is King, And S(j of the workers in Cotton I sing. No race in Old England hold lionour more dear Than the proud sons and daughters of famed Lancashire. In science and skill they stand well in the fray ; For pluck and goodwill they are noted to-day ; In lah(jur and love will each one persevere For the glorious prestige of famed Lancashire. Her daughters are modest, and faithful, and fair, No women for beauty can match them elsewhere, W'arm-licarted and loving, in friendsliij) sincere, fcjtill lending new lustre to famed Laucasliire. 10 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPT: Her sons have for centuries acted like men, And patriots proved with the sv/ord and the pen ; Ever foremost in daring and hindmost in fear, True champions always of famed Lancashire. Then here is a Immjier unto her bright name, And now let each friend celebrate her fair fame — " Through tlie world as we mo may we always revere The beautj'^ and worth of famed Lancashire." Ubc Scratcbbacfi Club. We have heard of politicians who are leaders of renown, We have read of clever artists who are known throughout the town, AVe have listened unto orators in institute and " pub," But have never seen the equal of The Scratchback Clcb. Their rendezvous is famous as a qualified resort Of "chappies " who have talents of a most peculiar sort. Bel esprit is the motto which inflates them every man, And renders the spectator to condemn them as a clan. There are dreamers who are building airy castles not a few, Who, in spite of being clever, are a bacchanalian crew ; There are office-holders also, who have special work in hand, ilore dignifled than aldermen, and seeming twice as grand. Tliere are lules and regulations for the guidance of the lot. And, strange though 'tis to chronicle, it should not be forgot. The members all believe themselves supremely well endowed, And keep a proper distance from the rude, unlettered crowd. " Who are these members ? " j'ou would ask. So thereto I reply. Nor dignity, nor principle, nor genius there, say I No statesman, e'en in embryo, nor artist ever there , Nor yet a single gentleman could anyone declare. Tlien look around, ye people all, when next ye go to town. And notice well the braggarts who parade both up and down ; Perchance ye may by accident your shoulders hap to rub Against some well-dressed member of The Scratchback Cll'b. 3LookiuG at 2)eatb. Looking at Death from a sick man's view, Laden with sorrow, and suffering too. Wrung with the anguish of torturing pain, Hoping and waiting for comfort in vain. How great must the contrast appear pictured there, Where Death puts an end unto blight and despair, It may not Le right to indulge in such breath. But still 'tis consoling, thus — Looking at Death. BEGGAR MAXrSCRirT.S. 11 Looking at Death from a different pliase, A life that is blasted with sin and disgrace, When day after day brings the end nearer view, Distorting its horrors and adding thereto. How utterly wretched must be such a fate, AVithout one redeeming or comforting trait, Remembering %v'ell what the Almighty saith, How terrible thus is tlie — Looking at Death. Looking at Death from the singular fate Of one whose ambition has no future state, Whose life without doubt may be blameless of men, Yet ends with the beasts of the forest and plain. How aimless and vain unto such must appear The life of mankind when the end draweth near ; "For why do we live, yet to gain or bequeath?" Must puzzle the sceptic on — Looking at Death. Looking at Death from the Christian's view, How cheery and gladsome the prospect thereto ; Release from a bondage of worry and strife. To enter the portals of sanctified life ; Nor doubting nor dreading in him can arise, Xo fearful misgiving may baffle his ej'es, Nor wrangling, nor chaos, nor envious breath Can hamper a Christian on — Looking a: Death. Zo m^ H)ictionaii\ A true old friend thou liast been to me When friends withal were none so many, And I have none that have proved t'j be So often I ceded — more than any. My lettered friend, how I treasure thee To my inmost heart is only known. For thy usefulness lent aid to me When otherwise I had toiled alone. How shall I sing thy entitled prais?, Or h(n\- shall I word my tribute strain, So thou, the tutor of all my lays, The highest hoiioui may still retain. Grant nie, O Muse ! for my old friend's sake, A spell of thy poetic ptnver. Endow me now \\'ith a zeal to wake The echoes sweet of a tuneful hotir. Thou dear old tome, ever rich to me, Since Learnings sweets from thee 1 have drawn. How can 1 fail in regarding thee. Companion true of the dusk and dawn. Merc words but faintly can express How deeply grateful T would prove, But my regard is nevertheless The yielding fruil of abiding Luvc, 12 BEGOAn JtAXUSCRirXS. ^bc IDcatb ot /IDoses. O" ;!■ Xebo's hill and Pisgah's height a holy radiance shone, For Jehovah with His servant there had will'd to be alone ; The Prophet by His order thus had travelled to his doom, And glory from the Presence did the meeting-place illume. The long expected Promised Land lay open unto view — The land of plenty overflown with treasures rare and new — The goal of man's ambition, and an Eden of delight, Lay like a sea of riches fascinating to the sight. The chieftain, who liad served his Lord, and knew Him face to face, Surveyed the country stretched below — the chosen resting-place ; His six score years of age he bore, as man his natural prime, With sight and strength as unimpaired as ever in his time. The anxious hopes and j'earnings of the troublous years gone by — • The humble, yet the faithful trust — how easy to descry ! How happy must we picture him to find his journey done, Blessing still, yet blessed, thus to feel his rest begun. Then spoke the God of Israel, and thus and thus said He : " The Land whereon thou gazeth I will not give unto thee ; " I promised it to Abraham, and unto all his seed, " Yet thou shalt not go thither, on account of thy misdeed ; " But, inasmuch as thou hast found great favour in My sight, " I suffer thee to view the Land, with every prospect bright, " For all the faithful service thou hast rendered in My Name, " A recompense in Glory shall atone for every claim. " Thy days are numbered, yet thine end shall be an end of peace, " (gathered unto thy people all thy murmurings shall cease, " Even here thou diest 71021) beside the Lord of Hosts, " A forfeit for the frailty that presumption only boasts." Thus spoke the Lord ; and Moses then, submissive to His will. Kesplendent with tlie holiness His Presence did instil. With bended knees and lowly mien, without regret or sigh, Surrendered there his deathless soul, and thus did meekly die. An enxdous death did Moses die, as doth a little child. Fit emblem of humility, in his spirit meek and mild ; He died an honoured Patriarch, in harmony with (lod, A favoured dissolution where the Holy Presence stood. Not all the world of schism, and not all that sages tell, Will ever dissipate the fact that Moses' end M'as well ; Promoted to communion witli the King of kings in life. He reached a higher glory when he quitted earthly strife. And so he died ; and never man was witness of his end ; His final resting-jjlace unknown to every earthly friend ; The Lord — hist here and there, a dreamy and sallow -vi.saged youth, or a 14 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. pale love-sick maiden, with anything Init classic features, although of most romantic disposition ; whose tearful demeanour, and at times audible outbreaks of sympathetic feeling are the standing jokes and butt for the comic element, then you have sometliing like a fair description of what may pardonably be termed as Britain's left wing — " the ' gods ' at lionie. The corner-man, or bully, is very rarely to be seen amongst the fraternity, for being of a more beastly, unnatural, greedy, and vicious type, he finds his quarry in the drinking dens of low repute and other haunts of iniquity. I make bold to say that were one of this class to commence his devilment amongst our " gods " he would share the fate of his satanie supeiior who was driven out of Glory ; and possibly he knows this quite as vvell as we do ourselves. There is at the bottom, even amongst the "gods," a certain modicum of love for British fair play, and any corner-man would find himself " in the wrong box," as it were, did he commit himself unnecessarily and intolerantly amongst them. And this it is which provides for an artiste the opportunity for applause and distinction, and in contra-distinction proves the downfall for incompetence. The true "gods" are of a lively, rakish, buoyant, careless, discriminating, and comfortable stamp, as different from their poorer or more flisreputable allies on all other occasions as could fairly be conceived. Taken all round, as a class, we may therefore describe them as being a far more preferable essential of society than those whose reputation is identical with police or criminal annals. It is now quite common to see in a crowded assembly of the "gods," dozens of them eagerly and seriously discussing the columns of some evening newspaper, "between the acts," so that such a circumstance of itself entitles them to a fair share of our respectful consideration ; for it is an infinitely better means of employing themselves than either rushing off to some beer vaults, or beclouding with tobacco smoke the means of entrance and exit. If we except the xmtimely and too frequent exits and entrances, ihe noises made by too clumsy peregrinations after the ever-favoured cheap gills azid pop bottks, the oraiige-peel and nutshell assaults with which they playfully disport themselves, and the small rivulets of tobacco-juice which besmear the teats ; I say, if we can ignore or put up with such drawbacks, we maypossiblyfind that the hauntsof the "gods," so far as sight and comfort go, are in reality the most convenient part of the building. So that, after all that can be said about them, if either Dick or Sarah, Jack or Gill, possess enough robustness, strength of nerve, love of mischief, or selfish Ijravado, with the requisite ability for self-protection ; there is no real reason ^^'hy they may not with considerable profit enjoy an occasional night in our entertainment temples amongst " the gods at home." ITbc people. What shall I say to the people ? How shall I reach to their hearts ? Had I the wisdom of sages — Had I the records of ages — A clarion tongue from a steeple — I lack in enacting my parts. What can I say to tlie many. That fortune may turn to their good ? Happy, indeed, to befriend them. Gladly my all I would lend them. For sadly, say I, there's not any But better might be if tliey ^\'ould. Why are they alwaj's dependent ? Why ever sad and downcast ? Why are the}' browlieat with money ? A\ h}' should the bees have no honey? For Unity's need each defendant Will bleed till salvation is past. BEGGAR MAXUSCRIPTS. 15 When will the toilerfs use reason? When will they show cuninion-sense ? Image of God, like the master, Travelling Heavenwards faster ; Now is the chance and the season To thwart the usurper's pretence. Then, on to success and renown ! And forward to freedom and right I ITnited your sway sliall begin, You only need w ill it and win ; So band yourselves well in each town, And organise meetings at night, H Morf^mait's If^ome. Let lordlings sing, and ladies cling, to wealth, and fame, and place. Let Handicraft and Science vie, to deck them out in grace ; Amidst a round of gaieties though daily they may roam, They lack the blessedness within a honest labourer's home. Besieged with state — betokened great — possessed of wealthy hoard — Surrounded by the flunkeys who attend their bed and board ; Yet, though they sliiiie and look so fine, and pleasant seems tlieir lot, There's a greater charm, and hearts as warm, within a humble cot. Around the workman's hearth, at night, when daily toil is o'er, The loved ones sit with spirits light — dull care without the door — The children's glee is good to see, whilst the elders' happy mien Excels the studied graces that with affluence are seen. The schoolboy's task ; the baljy's care ; the dangling father's knee ; The mother's work ; the granny's chair (where granny loves to be) ; The pleasant chat ; the cheerful play; the free and homely joys ; The evening meal ; the prayerful kneel of youngest girls and boys. A later hour — with freer power — of devotion fond and true ; Domestic schemes, and loving dreams what Father Time may do; Perchance some news, awhile amuse in passing night away ; Then off to bed, with reverent 'nead, to rest till coming day. 'Tis little, I know ; but who can show a happier lot than this? Or who could wish for better fare, when such imparts a bliss? The rich may boast possessions, but contentment beats them all ; So ye who uonld enjoy the boon, respond to duty's call. Hn 0l^ /IDan'5 Ston\ So you think T could tell you a story, that is, if I felt so inclined. And only Iwcause I am iioary, and show an intelligent mind ; Yo I credit my years and my reason, and truly you judge not unwell, And so that you >uffer no treason, a brief .simple talc I will tell. 'Twas in days long ago, then remember, not many years short of three score, On one cheerless night in November, a stranger did come to our door, I lived with my father and mother, a few miles away from the town. With only a sister and brotlier to accompany me up and down. The stranger was handsome and clever, with a style captivating and bold, And his e(jua), till tiieri, I liad never, beheld in a man young or old ; His age was, peiiiaps, five-and -twenty, somewhei-e not so far from my own, And of wealth he was 'customed to pltuty, as any might easy iiave known. IG BEGOAH MAXUSCRIPTS. He had called on a matter of business, and father invited hiin in. And of course he accepted the welcome, because of the brightness within. He got introduced unto sister, and also to brother and I, And soon he became (juite familiar, and time glided pleasantly by. Our dear sister Alice was pretty, not so-so, but something more rare, And he was uncommonly witty, with a presence commanding and fair, And soon — very soon — she was captured, t)y liim and the arts he possessed, While he, I could see was enraptured, by the charms her sweet beauty expressed, She was only a child, please remember, whilst he was so polished and smart, And before but the close of November, the stranger had stolen her heart ; li'or he made one excuse and another to call many times after then. And the darling, in spite of her mother, b3guiled him again and again, .Dear sister, we could only scold her, Init sternly forbade him the house ; 'Twas then that, indeed, she grew bolder, and stole to his arms like a mouse ; We felt that she was not his equal, and dreaded that harm would ensue, And, sir, if you notice the sequel, you'll find our suspicions proved true. They carried on thus until Chiistmas, and tlien on that festival morn. Whilst joy-bells were ringing so sweetly, the message that Jesus was bom, We found the dear girl had departed, and fled from the home of her birth, Leaving each one gloomy-hearted, and driving all gladness from earth. We loved her so well, and she knew it ; for she was the family's pride. We could not imagine siie'd do it, though sorely no doubt she was tried ; We thought her our one pretty flower, so lovely, so gentle, so kind, And to tlaink of that one fatal iiour makes justice appear almost blind. Ah, well ! she eloped ; and, believe me, she crushed us each one by the deed. And sometimes to speak does relieve me, for now my old heart seems to bleed. We saw her no mohi for a year, when she wandered back homewards to die, With a sweet little baby so dear, she gave us, and whispered, "Good-bye." It was something that all had expected, luit it broke our old parents down. To liear how she'd been neglected, by the scamp who allured her to town ; He robbed her of honour aid virtue, then left her to starve in the street. And as sure as there's justice in Heaven, some day he that justice will meet. Poor darling ! I hope she's forgiven, for although 'twas a terrible sin. Her beauty was worthy of lieaven, could she get admittance therein. She died for her sin like a martyr, heartbroken, repentant, and young, A victim to frailty and folly, misleading, degrading, and wrong. Befoi-e many months had passed over, from that very sorrowful day. We buried both father and m ither, near Alice, beneath the cold clay. Her baljy, that nothing would nourish, just wasted in spite of all care. Whilst nothing we had seemed to flourish, but trouble grew harder to bear. So, sir, you v>'ill know what we suffered, a]l through a gay libertine's whim, Wlio only, when t;kl of what happened, looked on with indifference grim ; He knew that his wealtli and position si/cured him from personal harm, And, reckless of future condition. Ire scoffed to behold our alarm. Then quickly we left the old homestead, to fight in tlie battle of life. And since then I have been in far countries, and joined in adventurous strife, But though I am now old and feeble, and my journeying reaches its close. My memory clings to sweet Alice, and the place where my loved ones repose. So now is my sad story ended, but in leaving you just let me say, Such a time I had never intended, upon this occasion to stay. I thought a great deal of my sister, and if maybe you have one yourself, Remember the fate of young Alice, and protect her from even herself. BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 17 IDabbling. Next to sneaking' hyi^ocris}' there is nothing so despicable as " dabbling." The man or woman who hal)itually turns up to everyone's inconvenience, who meddles with other peoj)le"s affairs, and who constantly ventures opinions unasked, are at best only mean, useless, and c :)ntemptil>le creatures. A trickster or a gossijJ should always be avoided, for they only make merry when other folks are sad. Love of mischief — -their sole virtue — is to honesty the greatest vice ; the same people, after tendering their solicitude with a dying man, would actually execute a dance o'er his tomb. Dabblers in trade, dabblers in law, dabblers in religion or in politics all men should shun ; and, whenever troublesome, put their foot upon and expose them. Dabblers exist everywhere, and, insidious as they are. Society is corrupted and pestered with them. Be waiy of them, whether in friendshijj's garb or sheep's clothing ! Resent always otEcious solicitude ! In public, on the stage, on the street, or in your home give them their just deserts and no favour. A dabbler is a braggart, a braggart is a coward, a coward is a cheat, a cheat is a knave, and knaves are scoundrels. Be just and firm, and dabblers cannot harm you. Merit never dabbles, and dabblers never merit — only the disgrace that eventually finds them. Heroes are not dablilers, and dabblers never make heroes. Look to it, then ! for all backbiters, cowards, gossips, and knaves are despicable dabblers. B 'Baily] ipraver. Thou who knowest all our failings And the inmost of each heart. Guard us. Lord, in all our dealings, That we ne'er from thee depart. Make our thoughts and acts more holy, Lead us to Thy heavenly throne, Teach us to be meek and lowly, And accept us for Thy own. Help us to withstand temptation, Cheer us with Thy graciovxs love, Grant us, Lord, Thy true salvation, Fit us for a home above. God of Mercy ! God of Justice ! Deign Thy servant's cry to hear ! God of Love, and God of Goodness ! Listen to a sinner's prayer. Amen. Olcesom's %x\c\\. In a (|uiet, respectable street Stood a house whicli was marked No. 4, In tile trade of the constalile's beat. With a knocker attached to the door. There the occupants, seven in all, Wlio had once been esteemed well-to-do, Reconciled unto poverty's thrall. Resided with comforts but few. Surrounded with plenty and pride, Tliey might have been strangers around. Since all of their neighbtnirs denied Aciiuaintance, with hauteur profound. 18 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. Yet open, and honest, and brave, Was each one within Ninnber Four ; And rather than favour to crave. Each one %vould have perished before. Mr. Gleesoni the father was called — A fine-looking man of two score — By hardship he ne'er ^vas appalled, Though poverty he would deplore. A city man — once he had friends, Who (Stayed while his fortune ran high^ For riches a false glamour lends To the selfish and indolent eye. 'Twas then he co\dd well entertain His friends and ac(piaintance at will. For he, be it said, had a brain Attractive to good men and ill. But an evil day came all too soon. And stripped him of all that he had. Till drudgeiy turned to a boon For which he was thankful and glad. With his family long he had tried Full bravely to hold up his head, But often they had to decide To go barely clad to get bread. Yet year after year they contrived Amidst carking care to exist, Till the much dreaded climax arrived When this simplest diet was missed. The younger ones struggled in vain To help in the making ends meet, But children sometimes prove a pain And tend to make anguish complete. Untrained and untutored in trade, No match for their fellows were thej', Although honest efforts each made To earn a few coppers some v/ay. Pretty Mary and Algernon ti'ied — As always good children will do — - To aid them and comfort, beside Denying necessities too. But cupboard and shelving were bare. And the fire had died in the grate ; Not a crust or a morsel was there To save them from hungering fate. The mother tried hard to caress And quiet her youngest in arms, Imploring the good God to bless And shield them from direst alarms. The father sat still with bowed head, And tears trickled down his sad face, For if ever the heart of man bled, 'Twas Gleesom's just then with disgrace. BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 19 Their sobs and the ticks of the clock Were the sounds that could only be heard, When a sudden unusual knock Impelled them to note what occurred. 'Twas the postman's "rat-tat " at the door; " For Gleesom's — a letter ! " he said ; And the father received it before He had scarcely erected his head. Then he started to read, and lie saw That an uncle had made him his heir, Whilst the writer — a 1 hah of thr law — Desired his commands then and there. And a cheque — a remittance — fell out, Which Algernon caught as he stood ; Whilst Cileesom walked strangely about, Exclaiming : " My uncle ! my God .'" And the wife and the elder ones next Got the letter, and read it in turn ; So startlingly sudden a text With gratitude caused them to burn. Then tlie parents and children all, The very first thing that they did, Was down on their knees each to fall Unto Him from whom nothincf is hid. And there, as they solemnly knelf. Delivered from longing and strife, The}^ prayed Him inl.inguage heartfelt To grant them His guidance through life. And thus did tlieir care pass away, And Gleesom's have riches again ; Good Samaritans all, from that day They lived well-beloved of men. Ube Cat aiib tbc /ll>ou3e. A cat, once in a house, Caught a very little mouse. As it crept from behind an open door ; Tlien began witli it to play, Till it slyly slipped av/ay, And bolted through a crevice in the floor. " Ah, ah ! " then said the cat, "I must take a liint from that, "For I can't afford to tlirow a chance away ; " I must change my vv'ay about, " Or be bound to go without "The comforts I require every day." So reader, in your turn, A lesson you may learn : To let no opportunity jjass by. But engage them as they come, And deny them not, like some. Who tlirough neglect at last neglected die 20 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. /n>Y) ©15 fvicnb Barnes. Of the many I have met, whom I never can forget, There is one my grateful memory proclaims As a very friend in need — in his thought, and si^eech, and deed — And I gladly Hail — my old friend James No sanctimonic»us knave, so impiouslj' to rave, Is he whom now my admiration claims, Yet it sliould be understood — an undoubted "child of God" Do I love to deem — my old friend James. He owns no large estate, and is neither rich nor great, Possessed withal of truly modest aims ; He loves a comely dame — and contentment, just the same, A philosopher is— my old friend James. He enjoys the doing good — as a honest nature should — Though such as he the niggard ever blames ; Yet is he valued more, and is truer than before, For a gentleman is — my old friend James. He could never yet succeed, nor he ever will, indeed, For he practises no underhanded games ; Yet, he struggles " like a Turk," and unceasingly does work Alack-a-day — my old friend James. He is good at repartee, and a "])oint" can deftly see — Most learnedly in discourse he exclaims ; He can picture like a book, and ^^'ill read you witli a look - So peculiar is — my old friend James. Then here's unto my friend, may he have a peaceful er.d, Untroubled by the glare of tort 'ring flames ; May his manhood bear him v.ell, and liis record ever tell To the credit of — my old friend James, Ipoesv anC) Hit. One morning, as over the world's barren waste, Two Sisters went slowly along, The one exercised her harmonious Taste — The other burst forth into Song ; Both the high and the low were enchanted full soon And under their influence fell, Till none but the lost ones could fail to attune With charms beyond man to excel. Oh, hard is the heart ! unresponsive and cold, Denying the beauty and grace Of either tiie Sisters, whose worth is untold, In giving true riches a place ; For the acme of grandeur, refinement, and worth Alone by their aid is pourtrayed, And all the routine and the foibles of earth, In comparison, sink in the shade. BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 21 So let us endeavour these Sisters to woo, In charity, honour, and truth, Regardless of what any scoffer may do. Or fashion may threaten, forsooth ; We are proud of tlie past, and will welcome the day When man, recognising his part, A\'ith dual devotion can feelingly say : " All hail, unto Poesy and Art ! " 3for ®uc IRiobt ©nl^. To the reader of dramatic and musical tastes, whose acquaintance with professionalism is above the average, there will doubtless appear, in connection with this heading, a stereotyped brusqueness which is quite as familiar as in this instance it is misleading. I have nothing to recite of Thespian reminiscences or of footlight surprises — my theme is altogether unconnected with the achievments of lovely debutantes or successful prima donnas — and it is, in truth of so opposite a character that I doubt if, after all, I shall be forgiven for the liberty I have taken in thus arresting attention. Descending, however, from this lofty pedestal, I must crave your indulgence whilst I briefly but faithfully become introduced to your notice. I need not disclose every particular of my past life and experiences ; it will suffice to state that I am not yet forty, and that I hail from within a coui)le of hours' ride of Manchester. When I refer to my home I imply the neighboui-hood of my late abode, for, as the appended remarlcs will show, my homestead is a memory, and my home is non est. Had it been otherwise, these remarks woidd never have appeared, and I slaould have been a happier man ; for they faithfully represent an actual occurrence, and are true in every detail. Therefore it is that 1 wish you to pay particular attention to the narrative, for the profits of life are divided so finely that none can tell what their share may be. As you may liave observed that a child without toys is lonesome, so adult life without corresponding joys is a misery ; and it is correct to say that no joy so corresponds witli adult life as the joj's attending the married state ; and I am a married man, and a father to boot ; so you will understand that whatever may now appear, and however irascible you deem me, having once possessed a home and family, I have been a contented and happy man. It is the remembrance of such happiness, indeed, that imparts to my present state and surroundings an appearance they perhaps would not otherwise have possessed, for at this present moment I am utterly disconsolate. It matters very little how I managed to lose my home, or that I only lost it yesterday — sufficient for now is the evil thereof — but it does matter very much that within the space of twenty-four hours, a man with his wife and child, should be driven out into the world, houseless, friendless, and penniless. Yet such is the fact ; and whether it matters or not, or whether we like it or not, we have to endure it as best we can. And so, as there was no help for it, we had to tiu-n out at very short notice, and with a very small bundle of clothing — saved from the wreck — which we were allou-cd to take with us, we faced the alternative. I do not think it could honestly be laid to my charge that I ever was a hard or illnatured man, or that my poor wife ever denied charity to a deserving case ; but I do know that never did any beggar feel more bitterly neglected than I did then. Respectable ac(iuaintances we avoided, and as some occult witchery seems to enlighten the understandings of our more influential and also prosperous friends of our impecuniosity whenever we are unluckily thus afflicted, none such as these were encountered ; and we had recourse to that very common but no less praiseworthy expedient amongst the poor, of "raisiru/ the wind," by "pledijin'j" the slenderstock of apparel that we fortunately had allowed to us. Shelter we were conq)elled to have, and in desperation we hunied into a back street and very (juickly bargained for it. 1 had litjpes of being enabled on the morrow to sunnount the chief dilficulties of our position, or I should not so unthinkingly have run into the place I did. The tv\'o i-ooms I had bargained for, when at last I was shown into them (which was not until I had innocently paid in advance), resembled nothing so much as a dilapidated outhouse below and an old loiiued 22 BEGGAR MANUSCRIl'TS. bam-loft above. If ever there was a curiosity in connection with architecture and design, that place was one, I am assured ; and, barring tlie severity of our condition, there could not possihly have been a more motley or ludicrous offering for risible contemplation. No sooner had the " landlady " deijarted into her own domain than we commenced to stare in liewildemient, first at each other, and lastly around the premises. As badly situated as we were, and although the tears were scarcely dejDarted from my dear wife's visage, yet it was next to impossible to repress a smile at our surroundings. There could not have been less than fourteen varieties of wall-paper adorning [i] the walls below, and some of the patterns were extremely gaudy and highly-coloured, whilst others were dull, dark, and greasy ; not to mention the variations in design, which were opposite as almost could be. The pictures on • the walls, which were really cuttings from very old illustrated papers, and framed in most bulky fashion, had a thick coating of dirt each ; so that what with the frames being covered with tissue paper, or what had once been so before the change took place, and the glass being besmeared abundantly with more than one dirty deposit, they were fit objects for destruction. The flooring was uneven, and in many places broken up ; two corners were thoroughly dripping from a eesspool just outside in the yard corner, which slowly but surely oozed onwards, into, and through the walls right inside the house, and ultimately disappeared through the interstices of broken flags. Two ricketty chairs, a three-legged stool, a broken table, and a wretched cujjboard, with its criminal assortment of crockery ware, together with a rusty old fender and a spacious ashes receptacle, in which the poker lay half hidden, constituted the full camplement of furniture at our disposal. Not that we were the only occupants of the premises, either ; for, before the lapse of many minutes, we were most disagreeably startled and disgusted to observe the bold but none the less measured progress of three or four coclcroaches and a cricket across the hearthstone. With these we commenced reprisals, and for fully the space of two hours we were frecpiently engaged in the work of extermination ; for no sooner did one lot get massacred than several others seemed ready and willing to appear on the scene. The smile, which at first tarried upon our lips, very quickly gave place to an opposite expression, and for my own part, I felt in a very melancholy condition. As for my wife and child, I could not appease them, try as I might, and verily to attempt thus to do seemed like adding insult to injury ; so I i-efrained, and to put an end to our discomfort, proposed retiring to sleep ; thinking also thereby to benefit for the morrow. The demon of mischief nnist surely have prompted me to such a course, for if the below stairs was wretchedly furnished, tlie bedroom was if possible more so; and we quickly decided not to undress ourselves. Fortunately, being provided with a piece of candle, which was stuck into the neck of an ancient beer bottle, we were enabled for a time to watch by its twinkling aid the various accessories of our dormitory. AVere I to describe each one in detail I am sadly afraid that my word would be doubted, for of a surety it was never — previously, nor since — my lot to meet so rickety and horrible a state of things. Words would fail in describing the utterly lost and ])overty-stricken condition of the whole interior, for it literally swarmed witii filth and vermin. The walls, which had once gone through the process of "blueing," but which were now highly variegated in colour (owing to the high deatli-rate of the bug tribe, ^v■hose gore and mangled carcases were so plainly en evidence), were cnunlaling away with age and damjjness. Three or four large butcher's hooks which were suspended across the ceiling, and across which cords were strung, hinted hideously at the convenience of self-murder, and to my fevered imagination, as it were, awaited grimly my acceptation. Mice and other vermin scampered in and out of the hollow walls, almost careless of our presence ; whilst bed-flies and house-flies held undisturljed holiday. I had as many coppers left me as would purchase candle-light until morning, so I thankfully hunned outside to a corner store for the boon, determined if possible never to close my eyes in sleep upon the premises. With my family tliat was impossible, for what with fretting and crying, and nervous exhaustion, neither the child nor his mother could keep awake ; so resigning myself to the inevitable, for one night, at all events, I jiersuaded them to lie down on the bed-covering, whilst I seated myself on the bedstead rail. To make matters worse than they were, it was terribly close and stifling, and although the window of the room was half open, yet breathing was a matter of much difficulty ; and I felt half choked. Poverty is dreary enough of itself, in all conscience, but when saddled with every horrid accompaniment BEGGAR MANUSCRirTS. 23 of pestilence and misery, then indeed is it a grievous burden. Of all the nights that ever I spent disconsolate in my life, never before was this night equalled. Well might the Poet sing in praise of balmy sleep ; for long before dawn I felt thoroughly undone with my weary vigil and its attendant evils, and a prospect of rest seemed tlie embodiment of perfect bliss to my tortured mind. What with my endeavours to keep the sleepers unmolested ; my huntings after the biting disturbers of their peace ; my clumsy efforts to keep a steady light burning ; my adventures with a few of the boldest mice, who were audacious enough to leap occasionally upon the bed ; and my weary eyes and heart ; my lot was indeed a truly wretched one. I must at last have succumbed unto circumstances ; for being somewhat startled at the sudden noise made by some passing carts through the streets, I lost my balance and fell liead over heels on to the room floor. Tliis was the last point of my endurance, for daylight having arrived, we arranged our clothes and general appearance as best we could under the circumstances, and hurriedly quitted the premises ; determined never again to trust our liealth and persons to the vagrant mercies of a . haclc street lodging house. And, God willing, I never shall ; and in conclusion I trust that no reader, gentle or simple, will fail in extending their kindliest sympathy to any belated person whose experience brings them at any time within such a shelter, if even " for one night only." H ld55. What rapture in a lover's kiss. What concentrated store of bliss, W^hat happiness, what passion keen, What love, what joy,a kiss can mean. A soul to soul, a heart to heart, W'hat fulness doth a kiss impart ; A signature of homely birth, A bond of truest friendship's worth ; A taste of nature's native bliss, And purest ransom — is a kiss. A seal of love, a compact sign. An emblem of a troth divine. An union meet, an issue won, A token sweet and dual boon. The kiss of innocence and faith A world of restful comfort hath ; The kiss of fond i)ossession means A harbinger of blissful scenes ; A kiss at worst expresses most Achievement better M'on or lost. A kiss can grant a lease of life, A kiss presents a truce to strife, A kiss- can bind a wayward soul, A kiss can travel pole to pole ; A kiss of love or kiss of joy,- A kiss of pride without alloj', A kiss of wu]cC)me well bestowed, A kiss of (4od speed on our road, A kiss of pl(;asure, how'er given, Yields a spicy balm of Heaven, 54 BEGGAR JtANUSCRII'TS. ^be Mai^s ot peace. How well it is to see the ways of peace, And view the sweets of innocence and joy, To gain from anxio^is care a brief release, And taste the boon of rest without alloy. To see tlie people toiling in content. And join their homely pleasures day by day. To cultivate such cheerful sentiment Unfettered by ambition's restless sway. To help the poor and needy in their lot, To soothe the sick and comfort the oppress'd. To rescue those the world may have forgot. And yield the wretched wanderer a rest. To train the lude and ill conditioned mind, To foster and encourage learning's boon, To profit by example to mankind. And teach the world with Nature to attune. How happy then to witness this indeed. And mingle with sucli usefulness and love ; How better still in sowing such good seed. And labouring the harvest to impi-ove. Then "onward" let your watchword ever be. Ye peaceful workers whereso'er you loam, A Heaven here on earth j'e caimot see, But Heaven at the last will be your home. Uo a Mvb in Sutiiiner. Chirp on, sweet bird, and let thy lay Bespeak thy joj'ful plight ; Sing on, and gladly hail the day That brings thee life and light. Let every note be full of jjraise. And every trill be glad ; Sing on, and revel in thy ways, And nevermore be sad. Sing on, and let the joyous song Thy timid nature cheer ; Sing on, and in thy strength be strong, A stranger unto fear ; Let every blade and every bough Sufficient harvest prove ; Sing on, and let the Maker know Thy gratitude and love. Chii^J on, and may the sunshine be A pleasure to thy need ; Sing on, and prove tliy loyalty For mercy small indeed. Sing on, and let all human-kind Such lessons from thee take ; In everything some good to find, For God the Giver's sake. BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 2o ''Croohie Blanb." Come, listen all, both great and small, whoever you miiy be. And I will tell a story of a man of low dcigree ; He was not rich nor famous cjuite, as you may understand. But a simple individual we knew as " Crookie Bland." Now, this was not his " Christian " name, though many folks forgot. But "Crookie," ever humble, thought a nickname mattered not ; He only was of ugly build, a strangely shapen elf, So people called him " Crookie," and he answered it himself. The creature never had a home to call his own in life, And bare existence proved to be an ever constant strife ; He sheltered in a lodging-house, well noted in the town. And earned his scanty livelihood by job work up and down. Sometimes he earned a shilling, and again he might earn more, Sometimes he could not earn at all, and so was very poor. But whether he had work or no, he never used to growl, And never was induced to steal, or covetously prowl. It is the truth that I relate about poor " Crookie Bland," His nature was as upright as the noblest in tiie land ; So long as he could earn a crust, or yet a trifle spare. Some other poor "unfortimate " was welcome to a share. His clothes were like himself — as strange — and never nicely fit. He had to wear what he could get. and get them bit by bit. Sometimes, indeed, he loooked a " guy," a most peculiar sight, Which caused the thoughtless urchins to exclaim with wild deli'dit. Now, " Crookie " was but human, and no relish had for scoff, He knew his imperfections well, but could not shake them off; He knew that his was not the blame for ugliness of form, And grieved to be molested by the ragamuffin swarm. However, he contrived his best to get along each day. And season followed season, mitil years rolled away ; His hardships and his failings he endured as he could. Although his lot, when happiest, was anything but good. He had his friends, as who has not, whoever they may be ? But his especial favourite was little Nellie Lee ; Her father and her molher both lay in a parish grave, And so the rugged " lodgerhood " a willing succour gave. She really was a lovely child, justbord'ring six years old. And prattled on through every day delightful to behold ; The roughest men and women there would listen with delight, For all beloved the little one, who rendered life more bright. A trifle liere and a trifle there — all round they did their best — Maintaining little Nellie, now her parents were at rest ; Her lovely eyes and witeliing face, and busy prattling tongue. Withheld the mad behaviour of tliat rudely sorry throng. And Nellie dearwduld luve them all — as little eliildren do, And yet, their special favourites, have little children, too, And Nellie's ripe affections were, as all could plainly see, Accorded to poor " Crookie," allunstintingly and free. 26 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. And, O ! what happiness it raised within that rugged form, To feel a love tliat kei)t his heart, unfrozen too, and warm ; He struggled through his bitter lot as only hei'oes can. And outwardly thougli like a beast, witliin him lived a num. An apple or an orange, or a cunning little toy, Ofttimes baspoke the fullness that poor " Crookie " did enjoy ; A merry little pastime, or a very pleasant chat. Were preludes unto Heaven that no other work begat. Poor "Crookie !" thougli his worth was small, his wealth of love was great, And hour after hour ho would list to Nellie's prate ; If ever in a pet and cross, or if sh-e was unwell, It was only unto '• Crookie " that her troubles she would tell. And so the days, and weeks, and months, took wings and flew away, Whilst Nellie unto " Crookie " was the lodestar of his way ; Just like a child the man became, when seated by her side. Contented to remain her slave, and wait on her with loride. That " beggars can't be choosers," is a saying trite and true ; Discomforts of a many kinds they bear with spirit too ; Too often, now, to be forlorn, is counted as a crime, And Justice is discounted, to keep headway with the time. Upon a rough-and-tumble bed, upon the attic floor, Young Nellie with the children lay, the poorest of the poor ; Wliilst " Crookie " had a space within the second floor backroom. And often thought himself in luck, such* quarters to assume. 'Twas on a night in winter, when the household were asleep, And every inmate also ^vas enwrapped in slumber dee}}. Poor " Crookie " was awakened by a suff'ocating smell. Whilst blinding smoke that filled the room a horrid tale did tell. An instant more, and only one, ere " Crookie '" up did start, And "Fire ! Fire ! " loudly roared, witli all his voice and heart ; One instant more, and then he forced his way unto the door, And shouted, "Fire !" once again, more loudly thaia before. In less than half-a-minute then the house did ring with cries, As falling sparks and angry flames did greet the slumberers' eyes The oldest and the youngest there were filled with wild affright, As nakedly they rushed without, that bitter winter's night. The fire-engine quickly came, on Mercy's errand bent. And through the hose full quickly then the cooling stream was sent ; Room after room the gallant men — disciplined, cool, and brave — Explored 'mid dangerous flame and smoke, sjine lingerer to save. Among the falling timbers, and amidst the smoky gloom. Brave " Crookie " did himself engage in rushing to each room ; Here and there, and everywhere, his crooked form was seen Assisting old and young to flee in safety from the scene. And soon, indeed, the news went round that every one was safe — Each strong-limbed man and woman, and each harried little waif — When suddenly the cry arose, " Wixa Nellie safe and sound ? " But, to the horror of them all, the cliild could not be found. BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 27 Then, like an arrow from a bow, and with an awful sigh, The hunchback leaped upon the stairs to rescue her or die ; 'W'itli solemn earnestness he prayed, in deep distress of mind, "May God direct my footsteps till the little one I find." His hair was burned, his face was scorched, but onward yet he strode, Risking life at every step where fiercest danger glowed. He gained the door at length, and groped, amid the stifling fume, Then, seizing on her senseless form, he struggled from the room. The angry flames leapt round the.pair as if to burn them down, But still the hero staggered on with neither faint nor frown ; His strength had well nigh left him, when, witli one exertion more, He crawled beneath the window where the water in did pour. Thank God ! a fireman saw them then, and quickly grasped the girl, For at that fatal moment, " Crookie's " form was seen to whirl : The floor fell thi^ough — and he went too — an instant only late, And thus was lost a Hero who deserved a better fate. Poor " Crookie !" ugly and deformed, possessed a manly heart ; The lordliest of Britain's sons could play no nobler part. True chivalry a champion lost that spiritland did gain. When he for love laid down a life that bore no shameful stain. In vain we look for heroes in a set and chosen place ; In vain examine rank and wealth, or (juality and race ; They rise promiscuously round the surface of the land, And never win regard until, they end like " Crookie Bland." Mbo can tell ? Who can tell what load of sorrow Daily fills each bed of pain. Where a victim for the morrow Watches hopefully in vain ? Who but these can tell the story, Fraught with suffering, care and grief ; Young and tender, old and hoary, Sadly longing for relief 'i Helplessly each vigil kecjping, Stimg with gnawing 2)ain and woe ; Fitful slumbers, sighs and weeping. Only such can ever know. Trusting, maybe, that a brighter Dawning be for them in store ; So the burden may be lighter. And the dread suspense be o'er. Who indeed can guage the feeling Rife within each troubled breast ; Manifold of thoughts revealing. Still at war or calm at rest '( Let us not unlcindly judge them, Rather let us render aid ; Never favour once begrudge them. So their lot bo better made. ^8 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. Proud mankind may vaunt religion, As the safeguard to the aonl ; But, alas ! 'tis often sickness Paves the way into the goal. Broken, bruised, and weary liearted, See the sufferer lie enchained ; Strength and pleasure all departed. All the world's resources drained. How embittered then the anguish, Like misfortunes to endure ; How could any help but languish With such helplessness in store. Prate no more of Vcxin enchanters. Biblical or classic lore ; Pain and crime are master ranters. Which disturb the conscience more. Dread remorse and meek repentance. Point the patliway to the fold ; Passion's slaves discard rebellion, Once the beacon they behold. Well sometimes it is to suffer, If it check a wayward mind ; But the man's an arrant duffer, Who would wilfully be blind. Why should any wretched mortal, Strive against the Supreme will. Whilst a blessed heavenly portal. Proffers balm for every ill. Turn again, ye heavy laden. Start anew and lose no time ; Comely y(juth and beautous maiden, Celebrate true manhood's prime. Let us yield the sick ones succour Whilst our health be unimpaired. And with true devotion utter Pleas that each to God be spared. %ovc, IRank, anb IRicbes. There are three simple words whicli are known unto all. Love, rank, and riclies ; Aud yet how important in truth may we call, Love, rank, and riches. There lives not a man in the world's wide domain, Bnt of one or the other must ever retain. Some keen recollection, come joy or come pain. Oh, love, rank, and riches. BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 29 Three simple words, big with meaning and weight, Love, rank, and riches ; Swaying tlie Universe early and late, Love, rank, and riches. What thougli it be either one of the three, The otliers full soon in attendance will be, And livalry royal betwixt them we see. Oh, love, rank, and riches. Beggars, forsooth, may be swelling with Love, Sans rank and riches ; Noblemen, t o, may dejectedly prove Sans love and riches. The wealthy ;irt;-!-('/u( so vulgarly low. In seeking alliance, pei'force has to go And forfeit all Love to ennoble his show ; Oh, love, rank, and riches. Which is the mightiest one of the three. Love, rank, or riches 'i Of weightiest import \vhich shall it be, Love, rank, or riches ? Enough and to spare is true Riches indeed. And Rank cannot soar beyond Honesty's creed, But to Love and be Loved is a laudable need ; Oh, love, rank, and riciies. Cold is the heart that is hardened 'gainst Love, 'Midst rank and riches ; Titles and wealth only emptiness prove Vain rank and riches ; Mankind would be wiser and better by far. Did riches and rank never hajjpiness mar ; But love and its rivals are ever at war. Oh, love, rank, and riches. *' H IRcminiBcence." Watching liy the cradle side Of our infajit treasure. Listening the while it tried Its breathings hard to measure. How my heart went out to him. To see him rack'd with pain. Words would only picture dim. Description is in vain. I loved him with so deep a love To rest him I'd have died. And yet such selfislmess did prove A foil to all my pride. So helpless and so frail witlial It seemed a bitter fate Tliat he, my jirecious l)oy, my all. Should lie iu such a state, 30 BEGGAR MANUSCRirTS. The dearest thing on earth to me Was he, my darling joy, And oh, it was so hard to see My helpless baby boy. The tortured limbs and fevered brow, With anguish rent my heart, Too well I worshipped him I know Nor tiiought I e'er to part. But when the time so dread had past And liope fi'om me was riven, I found it better at tlie last For baby rests in heaven. BcUpseb. He was stylishly clad j'ou could see, and resembled a man well to do, his demeanour was easy and free, and his eyes glistened fearlessly true ; he seemed to lack nothing at all of the comforts and pleasures of life, his form was commanding and tall, and his features betokened no strife. His quite elegant whiskers and dress, bespoke a peculiar style, and none could have fancied him less than favoured with fortunate smile ; his linen, too, quite commc il faut, immaculate, clear, and profuse, outvied, with some jewels to show, a model for masherdom's use. As he sauntered along through the street, a magnet for envious eyes, both the lowly, the wealthy, and great, regarded him all with surprise ; a strut, or a stare, or a halt, betrayed each inquisitive mind, and mem'ries for once were at fault, his identity seeking to find. Some lordling, or rich millionaire, eacli knowing one tliought he would be, for who ^^'ith him else could compare, or bear such a carriage as he. Thuswise they discussed as they passed, and the stranger strode grandly along, till the vulgar obstruction at last, enticed the police to the throng ; and the sergeant, a knowing old hand, full quickly the magnate espied, and hastening on did soon stand, very close to the gentleman's side ; just a moment he rested liis eyes, upon features that paled to his view, and then to the rabble's surprise, he uttered one loud "So it's you.'' He handcuffed his man in a trice, and smiled a peculiar smile, then gripped on his arm like a vice, retracing his foot- steps the while, and somehow the mob got to know that the fellow was not a grandee, but a criminal vicious and low, and few were so daring as he. Then arrayed in his grand superfine, the magistrate's sentence he heard, never more in such plumage to shine, but uttered he never a word ; like a star he had burst into view, but as suddenly vanished away, without even one brief adieu, unto those who beheld him that daj'. iDope, What cheering magic in the word. The blessed thing called Hope, Exhorting mortals to attain A welcome goal of joyful gain, Indeed, it is a bliss ; A bliss to sooth a droojjing heart ; A Miss that sweetens sorrow's part, A precious boon is this. BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 31 A beacon of the dawninsr liofht, A treasure in the dark, The one thing needful in the storm, A shield tliat baffles all alarm, What shall compare with Hoj^e? Hope will steer us through tlie fi'ay, Hope will help to win the day, Cling to blessed Hope I What matters though in direful need,- And troubles fill the air ? Live on, plod on, the tide will turn, Joy will come t(j those that mourn, And sadness find relief; Relief witli double strength and grace Relief tliat time will ne'er efface ; Hope on through every grief. Hope is a lamp, a light, and friend. That saves us from despair ; The faith of innocence and love, A cheering sunbeam from above. To pilot us ahead ; A pilot true, when tempest toss'd ; A pilot true, when all seems lost ; A quickener of the dead. Blouc wttb tbe E)ea5. [Occasioned by a calamity which bcfel the author's wife, wlio was drowned acciclent;\lly within six weeks after their marriage, and in lier twenty -fourth year.] 'Twas a cold winter's night, and my friends had departed, I sat quite alone in the darkness and gloom ; I thought of my loss, and I felt heavy hearted To know that my loved one had met such a doom. The joy of a lifetime had left me for ever. The hope from my heart had remorselessly fled ; The dream of my youth I thought nothing would sever, lint I sat there awakened — alone with the dead. 'Twas only a year since first I had met her. And but a few days since I made her my bride ; Yet she was devoted, and 111 not forget her, For life was worth living with her by my side. She lay cold and still, in her robes calmly sleeping — I wished, as I gazed, that I lay in her stead ; But useless my wishing, or thinking, or weeping, I sat broken-hearted — alone with the dead. Young tlumgh I was, yet it brought me a sorrow Mcjre lasting than all 1 have met -with in life ; And the joy of to-day is a burden to-morrow Perchance I remember my lost little wife. She brought me no wealth, lait her love was a treasure, A stake for which I woidd undaunted liave bled ; And though she is gone, yet in moments of leisure My fancy u ill paint me — alone with tlie dead. 32 BEGGAR MAXUSCRIPTS. IRunawa^isms. Some people may perhaj^s think there are no such things as runawayisms, but there is ; and if you wish to make their acriuaintance, always run away from a temptation to do wrong ; run away from double dealing and hj'jiocrisy. All such are solid and tangible isiiia — contemptible plagiarisms — that never made a man respected, or ltd a soul to heaven. If you cannot grasp in your minds the fairness of anything which comes within your notice after reasonable consideration, nm away from it, have none of it ; for it is manifestly unsafe to tamper further. Always remember that nothing upon earth is so plain as honesty, and nothing so open as merit. The light of day — like the hand of time — exposes all things, and not every infemalism attending life or death can stand against it. The /sm>,- of life are stumbling blocks to a man's feet ; if man \\ill only trust his Maker, let his conscience lead. There is an entity in the conscience apart from the mind, and where there be an inclination to wrong doing, the conscience rebels. Isms are born of diplomacy, and diplomacy lives by circum- vention. From every ism of doubt or wrong, run away ; and then will conscience applaud you. A peaceful contencmjnt surpassas all and under difficulties or with success uprightness wins the day. Mritten to ®r&er. One afternoon on business bent, I hurried on my way, Scheming how I best could earn some wages for the day ; A wife and child were left at home, who awaited my return. Whilst I, unskilled in any trade, knew not which way to turn. At length into my muddled brain there entered an idea, So quick to give it vent I strayed to a neighbouring ai'ea, And in my distant mind I saw, dear reader, you must know, A gleam of luck if I \\ould try my Genius to show. In Poet's haunts I'd ventured oft, and wandered many a time, And sentiments in verse I'd penn'd, producing lots of rhyme ; My soul was fired with glory, and elated was my pride, And I fancied that for Poesy like a martyr Id have died. So, furnished with a sober mien, across the road I strayed. And entered in a busy store where boots and shoes were made ; The master asked my errand, which I scarcely could explain. But when I did he laughed aloud — then looked and laughed again. Then laughing still, he closer came, and gazed into my face, I felt abashed and humbled, for it looked a hopeless case ; But after he'd enjoyed his stare, said he, " young man, 'tis true, — For I pretend to study heads, and see the ' hunqi ' in you." Contented then I made myself, mitil he spoke again ; " I understand Phrenology, but do not thuik me vain ; It is strange indeed to hear a man discourse on such a text, And whatever in the world," said he, '^ will people come to next." Unto him then I did not dare to make a bold reply, For appearajices against me went, a fact I don't deny ; Seedy-looking clothes T wore, with old lioots on my feet. And boldness then would never do if I \vith him would treat. So quietly I answered that my errand I could do. But he needed no such service, and I had no cause to rue. For he chatted with me cheerily, on topics rich and rare. Confessing full belief in what the Spiritualists declare. BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 33 A blank to me were siilijects like to that he had in hand, And, truth to tell, I must admit, I ne'er could understand \V hat inter&st there was in such, the people to excite, But whilst I litstened, he explained the oa^e in better light. "Spiritualists believe," said he, " that people never die ; " That mother Earth does claim her own is what they don't deny ; " But the living conscious entity can never waste away, " For how can Immortality relapse into decay, " We know that people still appear, fanatics claim as dead, " Although the bodies may depart, their influence has not fled. " We know that in another sphere, and in another frame " Intelligence does prove that they are one and both the same, " We reckon that the Bible is the best book in the world, " The truest narrative of facte that ever was unfurled. " Its histories and precepts both, prove our belief is true, " And if you arc not bigoted you must believe so too. " We do not tell you this is triie, but this is what we prove, " So come, examine for yourself, as truth no one can move " I'll meet you here on Sunday next, and come just as you are, " For what thy hand can find to do, that do and always dare. " We know that people preach us down, we know we've black sheep, too, " We know that knaves and hyijocrites, will any mischief do, " But still we trust to common sense, for what is just and right, " You'll find it no delusion if you come on Sunday nigjit." When he had finished speaking thus, I stood in mute amaze, And still he stood to look at me with fervent, honest gaze, Xothing I had heard before, and x-ead in papers, too, Had laid the case so clear and plain to my untutor'd view. I told him so, and then he asked, if I would think it o'er. Declaring if I did, that I would wish to study more. But we left the subject there and then, and pleasantly did smile, For I had not thought my precious time he would so well beguile. So back unto my visit's cause, we started once again. And thoughts of home and family, brought me a tinge of pain. We talked tiie matter over, and I vow his words were true, A\h(-n he described my failings, and informed me what to do. Said he, " I do not advertise just so as you suggest, " But to further your endeavours, I will give to you a test, "And the jjurport of this interview, Ijetween yourself and me, "Write down in twenty verses and your banker I will be." So I came away, and cannot say, I left with merry heart, Although he'd aired his eloquence and repartee so smart ; Yet are these lines a record of my willingness to try, — To earn expenses for the time so spent 'twixt lie and I, And now T reach the twentieth verse, completing this mj' task ; From every one tliat clioose to read, some interest I ask, I may not meet each person's views, .and such I don't intend. For I have wiitten to. order, and I hope to please my friend. 34 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. H 1f5piiin ot praise. Christian.s, all with one accord, Join in praises to the Lord ! Ring witli lieart and Noice to Him Who is King and Lord supreme. Laud His praises to the skies, Let your Hallelujahs rise Humbly to the Judge of all, Plead His mercy ere you fall. Sound the grateful, happy song, Till it reach the Heavenly throng ; Loud Hosannas all proclaim, Sing with joy the Sa\iour's Name. Praise Him all with joyful cry. King of Heaven ! God Most Hig-h ! While the eclio sounds again. Every heart respond "Amen." Amen, XTbe S)a\>5 Gone 3S\?. I cannot check a sigh when I think of days gone by — Of my boyhood, when the future seemed so bright and fair ; How I played with childish glee, from all anxiety free, And never knew aught of sadness or of worldly care. Then all was jf)y and mirth, but like everytiiing of earth, They could not last for ever thus, and quickly they did fly ; And now, when I am alone, I often grieve and mcjurn The loss of the many joys I had in the days gone by. Many sights since then I have seen, and in many places been — In search of pleasure I have rambled far and near — But the pleasure that I find can never give peace of mind Like youthful joys that warm the heart and banish fear ; And while I roam through life, amid its scenes of care and strife, No matter what befalls me, still T never shall deny That of all the days I have seen not one to me has been So endearing as my boyhood's days, no^v long gone by. ©11 ifreeDom. " Who cries Freedom ?" know ye not, There is no freedom 'neath the sun, The calls of Duty are forgot, When freedom holds our duty done. 'Tis freedom only to progress. To prove by action and endeavour, A people's claims deserve no less, Where duty regulates them ever. BEGGAR MANUSCRirTS. 35 " What is Duty V can we say ISIan has not an obligation To redeem liimself each day By a code of preservation. How can manhood live and thrive In the midst of self-abasement, Freedom's sons must ever strive Unto Tyranny's erasement. "What is Nature ?" doth it mean A sympathy of kindred forces, Or, alas ! as hath been seen. An union by forceful process ? Away the thought of vengeful mien, Which clashes with good human feeling, True Nature at its best is seen When gentle effort 'tis revealing. Thus Nature, Duty, all indeed, Within mankind of thought and action Creates a truly noble creed — The Liberty of satisfaction. 'Tis this which animates the soul, And fires hearts albeit lowly In martyr'd ranks their names to roll, And perish in a cause so holy. IResignattou. Safe with the holy Lord I place My every hope and trust ; In Him my soul can surely trace A righteous God and just. Although temptations hem me round, And troubles try me sore ; Yet is my faith in Him jjrofound, And shall be evermore. 'Tis meet that He should try His own. And strengthen witli His care ; For true foundations are unknown Without recourse to prayer. And if my soul should turn away To more alluring scenes. It hastens but the evil day — A wicked portion gleans. The righteous man (lod loveth well. For righteousness is He ; Ujiriglitness He can truly tell. And it pleasetli Him to see. Then will I leave my cure with Him And trust in His good grace ; For feelile though I be, and dim, Yet shall I see His face. 36 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. Mbat i:>oc5 it matter ? What does it matter although 3'fm be poor, If still of good health and your strength you are sure, You toil and you live as an honest man should, AVhen some of your hcttcrs are not half so good. Beware, and take care, that no evil thouglits mar, Your comfort and prospects if lowly tliey are ; . There are many who pass you in supei-fine clothes, Would gladly exchange with your humble repose. What does it matter, because and betimes — Grim poverty seems just the blackest of crimes ; Though the sun reigns aloft and illumines the earth, Yet a duty well done gives true happiness birth. Contentment's a flower no money can buy, The fruit of well doing which none can deny ; So sing while ye may, and be time to your kind, Then quickly you leave discontentment behind. What does it matter to you or to me Because there are others much richer than we. Each one has a duty on earth to fulfil, With wealtli or without, or for good or for ill. Do the best that you can, whether wealthy or poor, For none can do better than tliat we are sure. And though we may never with Fortune succeed. The highest good fortune is ours indeed. Gbroniclcs ot a Clan. (a political disquisition.) Attend to me, whoe'er you be, for just a little while, And I will tell to please you well, in brief and homely style, The story of a doleful Ijand who wander through the towm, And by report are of the sort that mean to earn renown. Now understand, this doleful band, in solemn conclave met, Not once or twice, but more than thrice — the numbers I forget, They met in " holes or corners " where each made his trouble known Bold chamiDions of a purpose which made selfishness its own. By energy they did contrive to build themselves a cause, And inwardly did swear to kill the blight that gave them pau.se ; They were not ragged pariahs altiiough they felt the ban Of excommunication keen that blackballed every man. The members had distended minds, well versed in surface lore. Each thought himself a Solomon and higher could not soar ; But sad to tell, with all their skill — the drawback of each life Was this indeed, that caste decreed, an ignominious strife. Now I like a man — who is a man — to have a good backbone. To show his mettle by some deeds that make his virtue kno\vn ; A man whose goodness proves his worth, whose merit gives him place, For such an one is useful inito all the human race. The policy of " hji lioolc or crooh " appeals to narrow minds, It may attract the reckless ones, but upright people blinds, And yet these celebrated men whose foi])les I relate, Resorted to such tactics in vain hopes to change their fate. BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 37 Diplomacy, perfidious art ! was not more cutu than thuy, They fir.st secede, and thought to bleed attention Ijy such way O'er one thing- and another then they agitated loud, And formed a combination to attract the vulgar crowd. *o' So glaring did this action seem, it fairly took one's breath. For a head without a tail is doomed full soon to certain death ; But a very special friend they found to bear the brunt of all, And find the needful, don't 3'ou see ? to trundle on the ball. This master stroke of policy kept each one in full view, And automatons speeches were reported tlirough and through. Themselves supplied the talking for it pleases little minds. And one did move, and someone prove, a plaint of many kinds. Alas 1 indeed, for all tlieir scliemes, a failure was the game, For i)eople got disgusted at the mention of each name, And the very special friend himself — a much respected man Got a very costly bill to pay for joining such a clan. No earthly use — however small — was gained by such a coiqi, Sans honourable mention then they knew not what to do, A base ingratitude did seem to hang about the town, For many thouglit they had beeir sold, to buy the Clan rencjwn. The Barrel Organ next went wrong, if what they said was true, The \\-onder is, it went so long, without rebellion too ; They rated it and threatened it, tlien from it did depart, And ever since, as people say, 't has turned with better heart. Another question then arose, to which tl ey did attend. And fate, so ciuel hitherto, again beseemed a friend ; But all their boasted knowledge proved a blunder and a sham, And showed crass ignorance to be synonymous with " damn," And thus enraged with everything they sent abroad for aid. Which not refused did rally them that they were not afraid, They charged again in bold array, and this is truth I tell. They got another routing and it made their passions swell. Failures thick on every hand discredited them each hour, A simple body could but think such fate would turn them sour, But still once more in very truth tliey tried their hand again, And pleaded hard for allies, both with specious words and pen. Those allies sure, knew what was best, for both themselves and us And heeded not the sorry tales tire Clan did fuss and buzz. They pander to self benefit and personal renown. And never cause will prosper that they pilot in the town. So people all, both great and small, take notice what I say, Avoid this clique as best you can, and eye them well each day, They speeciiify and write reports, that help their purjjose on, But seek of them a favour, and youll find them giving none. Give me a Slasher, far a\\ay liefore a whining cur. At least we understand liim, and what is to do he'll dare. He is free from pettifogging, and we know he's blunt and true, And hole and corner fancying will find him nought to do. Then felhnv men, look round y(ni well, for members of this band, Tlieir troubles they nuist bear alone, 2)ray let them understand, They rant and rail and agitate, they twist and strut about, But where they thrust their noses in, you dearly get them out. 38 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. O, is it not exquisite joy to clasp a loving palm — To mark the fervour in the eye, and taste of friendship's balm — To note the cheering, kindly tone, and feel the welcome given — • To know a heart beats with your own — in unison of Heaven ? What in the world can half compare with Friendship's happy lot ? What can so well defy dull care, or make eacli care forgot ? What boon of eartJi is half so cheap, and yet what boon so dear? What chaemswill not friendship leap ? What heart will itnotcheer ? Be manly and let Friendship prove the true love of the soul, For love is strong enough to move the world from pole to pole ; Its influence goes everywhere, whilst Friendship jogs apace, A foil to every darkling care, and helper in life's race. Grant fully, then, this precious boon, and let its virtues spread ; With virtue it doth well attune, or else is virtue dead ; A friendly clasp or kind embrace — a simple word or kiss — Possess a charm and honied grace, that renders sorrow bliss. "XTbe /iftarcb of Oemus." [Being a Summary of the Proceedings at an Extraordinary Meeting of the Notorious " Scratchback Club."] The occasion of the 100th meeting of this assembly was an event in the annals of our town, for public interest had been excited by an announcement which had appeared in the Weeklij Scorcher, the pet organ of the club, and read as follows : — FIRST ANNUAL .SOIREE and 100th MEETING of the SCRATCHBACK CLUB. — SPECIAL ADDRESSES by Nicodemus Podge, F.O.G.Y., and Little Inflatous, M.U.G. Subject :—" The March of (4enius." Chair to be taken at 8 p.m. — A. Bouncer, Secretary. Such an important occasion could not be considered other than extraordinary in our neighlDourhood, and as a natural consequence there was an unusual muster of members and their friends on the night in qviestion, to the number of about three dozen souls. When it is remembered that each one present either was, or expected to be, an authority amongst his fellows, the dignity attending such a distinguished gathering may easily be surmised. Punctually to the appointed time (within twenty-five minutes, during which certain and sundry refresliments of an alcoholic nature had been freelj' imbibed) the Chairman — who happened to be Mr. Inflatous — together with the orator announced BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 39 for the occasion, ascended the rostnim, and immediately sat down. It was very evident that both gentlemen had exceeded the bounds of discretion, for they indulged in a playful familiarity which could not fail to be noticed. However, at exactly half-an-hour Ijehind the time advertised, the Chairman called attention to business, and, after a rough ovation had been accorded him, he commenced as follows : — " Brother Scratchbacks, — We are assembled on this special occasion to celebrate the 100th meeting of our society's l^eing and progi'ess — (iiear, hear) — and also to listen to the inspiriting oratory of an ilhistrious member of our ranks. Although the subject chosen for to-night has hitherto baffled the understandings of the liighest and most learned societies, I am proud to say that it will now receive, in this room, an exposition and imravelling that will at once and for all time render the modern name of ' Scratchback ' a blessed memory. (Great applause.) If you will paidon me for saying it, I would emlirace this opportunity of suggesting that from this time henceforth our beloved institution be considered and stjded the 'Premier gathering of noble minds that periodically assemble in this our to\vn ;' for it is undeniable that wc are, in truth, gentlemen, the only real and local embodiment of true Genius. As you are well aware, we already number amongst us some wonderful lights of learning, in the shape of poets, novelists, scientists, ifcc. ; and it is true to say, that although the great world of literature have in their ignorance failed to recognise that fact, nay, more, have actually laughed at our efforts ; the grand time is coming on when the said world will be not or.ly compelled to admit the same, but will be proud of the distinction of our alliance. (Cries of " Bravo," " Good lad," and applause.) It is true, indeed, that our poets are only Sprin;/ poets ; it is too true that our novelists are unappreciated ; and, gentlemen, between ourselves, it is beyond dispute that our scientists are in any but an advanced state. But that is no disgrace, gentlemen. I merely mention the fact in order to reveal in open assembly the coi-rect nature of the rare resources at our disposal ; and, I say it proudly, my brothers, we never, never, under-rate our achievements. (Applauding cries of " Good old man," &c.) To-night, Brother Scratchbacks, the subject is ' Genius,' and as every one of you understand it perfectly — bearing its stamp on your brows, in fact — I need not ask the question : ' What is it ? ' One thing I can vouch for boldly, and it is this : if there be any such thing at all as Genius in man's composition, assuredly its home is here. (Disturbance in the staircase caused by the replenishing of glasses, &c.) If I am to have order, I will proceed, but if not (cry of " Here's luck," and applause, during which the rest of the sentence was lost). Well, gentlemen, I am not presumptuous enough to trespass further on your time — for I want my glass as well as you —but 1 strongly believe ihxt if I had to deal with the subject under discussion this evening, I could do better justice to it than Mr. Podge ; but, as iu order to maintain our dignity we miist scratch each other's backs in a friendly style, I have great pleasure in giving him the job, and beg leave to join in your carousal." (Great applause and uproar, in the midst of M'hich tlie renowned Mr. Podge grandiloquently rose to address the meeting.) This gentleman, whose voice betrayed a certain huskiness, and whose gestures were remarkably dramatic, commenced by referring to the self-esteem of his friend, who had preceded him, as a special chaiactei'istic of a Scratchback, and expressing himself willing on that account to excuse his loquacity, he proceeded : — " My Friends, — T am to-night placed in a proud position- -a position which my qualifications merit — but a position, after all, which only true Genius can .adequately fill. Having once had the distinguished Jionour of shaking hands with the worthy editor of our enlightened Wcekl//, and having also been invited to tea by that functionary's better half, I am fully confident that most of you will support me in the inference, that in honouring me this evening, you likewise honour yourselves. (Cries of " Question.'") To-night I address you upon Genius, and I venture to ask each one present the startling question, ' What is it •' Is it merit ? Is it learnin"' ? Is it craft ( I say, umphatically : No ! it is Genius, and (aenius only. Tlien, what is Genius ? Is it a coml)ination of art and wit, or is it in reality only another name for science ? I tell you, plainly, it is neithei. Never shall it be said that this advanced assembly did not understand the term, when every " Man-Jack " of you is a Genius in himself. Genius is marching along, and nothing can prevent it, In the far away future, when each of us shall have passed away, who can tell, 40 BEGGAR MANUSCRII'TS. my brethren, what may or may not happen 1 Lifting the curtain of that distant period, I can clearly i^ee that no name of that age exhibits such bold relief as the even no\v celebrated name ot "Scratchback," and everywhere in that day are wc — the pillars of this greatness — renowned for our Genius. Like an Indian on the warpath, Genius is marching on ! Like an Arab crossing the desert, Genius is marcliing on ! LilvC the earth revolving on its axis, Genius is marching on ! What is Genius, I ask again ? Is it wisdom ? No. Is it pride ? No. Is it conscience ? No. Then, I say that it is something vastly different to what the world — not our world — esteem it. Should any man, hot a member of this our Learned Brotherhood, ever aspire to it, we will attack him. Should any advanced Stranger contribute to ou7' Weekly, we will assavdt him in the rear. Should any man refuse homage to our light and leading, we will slander him. Should anyone criticise us unfavourably, we will destroy his peace and comfort, and smile at his discomfiture. In short, comrades, in one brief word I will admit it : a Genius is a Scratchback, and only Scratchbacks are Geniuses. (Loud applause, and disturbance occasioned by a couple of inebriated brothers having a friendly wrestle in a corner.) In conclusion, my Divinities, as I see that a few of you, through a series of potations, are developing a certain wildness of aspect, and as I know from experience what a clannish lot you are when aroused, I would state, if you will give order — (cries of "Shut up," &c.) — that for the honour of this assembly — (noisy interriiption) — for the good of this house — ("bosh") — for the character of the famous 'Scratchback Club,' — for appearance, and my health's sake — I will now retire and leave the jjremises." Mr, Podge rapidly retires from the place, after a refresher at the bar ; leaving the late Chairman hugging the table-legs most affectionately in a kneeling attitude, whilst the rest of the " Geniuses " are settling matters in a peculiarly rough fashion of their own. At 11 p.m. arrives the landlord, who, knowing the wayward character of his friends, very kindly besprinkles them with cold water, whilst his " throtcer out" proceeds muscularly and scientifically to clear the room. And then indeed was seen, in a somewhat startling fashion, how truly erratic is the "March of Genius." H OOOb ©I& SOIKJ* How well I love the singing, Of a really good old song : With sweetest echoes ringing, Treasured memories among. It fills my soul with gladness, And my pulses ([uicken fast, Until its tuneful sadness. Leads me back into the past. happy is the sorrow by some goodness sanctifii;d, And bitter is the morrow of such happiness denied. How truly mem'ry keeps us Always evergreen and young. When hearts becoTiie enraptured. By tlie strains of some old song. Recalling in one moment. Other days of long ago. Our sympathies are chastened, ■ And with deeper vigour glow : 1 love the tender feeling, ever masterful and strong. Our nobler self-revealing, when we hear a good old song. BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 41 A good old soiiff I like it For the glimpse it yields so free Of days now jiast for ever, That are always dear to me. It seems to lend a fragrance, And an essence all divine, Commingling with the mem'ries Of the happy aidd lanrj sync. I would not miss such pleasure, though it may be fringed with pain, And, whilst I have the leisure, let me listen once again. Xattcr Mit. It's a wonderfid world that we live in, my lad, you'll find as you travel along, Oue half of tlie people are gloomy and sad, who hardly get clear of wrong, The other half seldom take heed of their lot. but pass them unthinkingly by, And so, 'tsvixt the two, I declare unto you, 'tis as irksome to live as to die. When I was a lad, and that's sometime ago, things were different then, by the mass ! We had all room to breathe very freely, you know, without interference with class. There were not so many to keep then as now, and nine out of ten earned their share. And each one to fate would contentedly bow, and harboured nor mischief nor care. There wasn't such scheming and trying to cheat, as there is in the world now-a-days, And folks were not useless as now, I repeat, and had less extravagant ways, A working man then left to more moneyed men the business we term "Legislate," And so the world wagged, and in blessedness dragged, to its length undeterred hy its fate. All around were green fields and most beautiful lanes, for exercise, frolic, and health, There were comforts in store for the humble and poor, as well as for those who had wealth ; There was work to be had, and poor folks could be clad, Mithout " strikiwj " and suffering long, And none but the worst could become so accurs'd, that a life was a burdensome song. But take notice now, what a hubbub and row, tliere exists 'twixt the rich and the poor And only reflect what a curious creed, does equality teach, to be sure ; The new-fangled schemes maj' be much in advance, of jog-along methods of old. But, believe what I say, we're no better to-day, although more inventive and bold. Just look wliat we drink ; an old body would think we surely don't knov*- our own minds, For with milk and witli tea, other mixtures we see, and not always the safest of kinds ; Our food is the same, and whom are we to blame;, tlie buyer, or dealer the most 'I 'Tis a nice state of things that this modern life brings, if only we counted the cost. Concerning TIeligion, too, loolv what a tribe of strange sections now can be found, But in my younger days we united in praise witlii.ut such dissension around. There were Church folk and Papists, and Wesleyans thtn, witli Kanters and (Quaker folks, too. And, as old as I be, and from all that I see, full (piite as much good did tliey do. 45 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. There were not such fashions as now in my youth ; there was more sense of modesty then, And people behaved, 1 can say it with truth, like sensible women and men ; The boys and the girls, just remember it, please, were kept under proper control. And modernised " Masherdom " could not appease the weakness of one little soul. We then had our sports for all seasons betimes, such as Maying and Carolling too, The Peace-Egg, and Mumming, and Bonfire games, creating much hullabaloo, We had annual Feasts and good Statute fairs, where sweethearting had its full bent, And we fared none so bad, I can answer, my lad, had jjeople remained in content. To-day, 'pon my word, though it sounds so absurd. Life seems but a tiresome race. And those who would last, to avoid getting pass'd, must accustom themselves to the pace. 'Tis a moil and a toil, and it makes my blood boil, to be hurried and worried like this. And if nought will atone but departure, I own, there are times when departure seems bliss. But yet after all, I can never recall, those days that are past long ago. Though I oft feel it hard, that I cannot retard the march of events you must know, Had I only foreseen, what has happened and been, I declare I would never have stayed, But I'll stop whilst I can, that each woman and man, may see that I am not afraid. H Brief, in Bjtenso. 0, who can tear aside the veil that shrouds the mortal mind, Or render yet one brief detail or portraiture defined Of what is known or what is felt of either sight or sound. Or of anytliing that may indeed indulge a thought profound. Ah, why indeed, should mortals seek to wield immortal power. And pierce through the solemn state encircling death's sad hour, It matters little what the views that tend a dying state. So that the work of life portends a happy blissful fate. Poor narrow minds, that christen Faith a weakness of the brain, Because, forsooth, they will not stoop to grasp immortal gain ; How true it is that all the might and force of logic's sway, Supports the right of reason to yield faith its natal day. The stubbornness of self-willed minds too tndy may impede The welfare and the progress of a simple life and creed. Dissenting and disputing through a wretched fear of trust. Will never sight the Beacon or the Refuge of the just. What boots it that a something seems to favour Unbelief, It is not right we should presume to fathom and conceive ; We feel, by force of reason, that our faith is good and grand. And, therefore, can content ourselves, with things we understand, BEGGAR MANUSCRirXS. 43 Tlie warrior and the statesman, with the sage and genius too, Are but a portion of the host who prove the maxim true, That light and reason animate whenever duty calls, And faculty becomes supreme where even death befalls. Then why refuse to exercise this sound and simple view, Since every exigence of life proclaims it good and true, To think that men who live and die, or stand or fall in turn, Begrudge a full belief in this, compels my wrath to burn. Zo a S)ea& Bvi^c, Short indeed has been thy journey, Soon thy race of life is run, Never did we dream, dear Mary, Thou so early wouldst be gone. When our cup of joy was brimming. And our loves were strong and true. Little heed we gave to dreaming What the future might not do. But, alas ! my heart's devotion, Death has claimed thee for his own Bitter grief remains my portion, I must journey on alone. Brief has been our part together, Swiftly hath it sped away, But its sweetness shall not wither, Till of life my latest day. Once again, my darling Mary, "We shall meet in realms beyond, Joined in bonds of love eternally Midst the heavenly hosts to stand. Keen and bitter is this parting, Bitter more than words can tell. Keener still it is to murmur. This — my loved one — this farewell 44 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. TLbis is tbc XanD. (patriotic song.) This is the land our fathers trod, For which they fought and died ; They heeded not tlie de.spot's rod, Nor danger yet denied, Theirs was a gi-eat and noble cause. No baseness could they brook ; Their struggles were but freemen's wars, To break the tyrants' yoke. Chorus. Then raise the flag of Freedom ! Long may it wave unfurled ! The glory of Britannia, And envy of the world. True Britons yet of freedom boast. They honour still the brave ; And though array'd 'gainst many a host They won't desert the slave. To tyrants and oppressors still Each true heart is a foe ; They must submit to British will Or quickly be laid low. — L'hokus. Then rouse ye all of British blood, From duty never fly ; But try to do your country good, And like true Britons die. Then will the nations envy ye, AVhen strife away is hurled ; And Britain's sovereign ever be The monarch of the world. — Chorus. Disious of IfDome, A SONG FOR SAILORS. When sailing at night o'er the fathomless sea. The fairest of pictures of home come to me. In fancy I see the beloved ones there And hear gentle voices for me breathe a ]5rayer. Softly, sweetly, soothingly come, AVelcome and beautiful, visions of home. AVhen Nature's exhausted and calmly I sleep. Lull'd })y the wild waves of the wonderfid deej). True blessings from heaven so bounteous come In touchingly tender memories of home. Softly, sweetly, soothingly come, Welcome and beautiful, visions of home, BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 45 Though danger surrouiids us, still I love the sea And whilst I've a choice, yet a sailor I'll be. With a hope that wherever fate bids me to roam I shall often be favoured M'ith visions of home. Softly, sweetly, soothingly come. Welcome and beautiful, visions ni home. Cbcclnnates. Say what we will, there is nothing so imwelcome as checkmates. In whatever guise they appear, there is no denying the fact that none of us i-elish their intrusion, and yet, in many instances, how often we might, by the exercise of a little forethought, guard against them effectually. It is very hard to be checkmated at every turn, and yet we cannot improve our circumstances by repinings. To be checkmated in wrongdoing is conniiendable, even if it be unacceptable ; but checkmating honest endeavours is detrimental to lioth molality and position. In the battle of life, never tread upon the weak and lowly, for it often occurs that circumstances change the nature of things entirely, and everyone in a more or less degree is subservient thereto. Charity, when properly exercised, yields more jjleasurable results than any other virtue ; and, blessed indeed, are the charitable. For your manhood's sake, have charity. Never check a noble aspii-ation ; never discourage a manly bearing. Be no willing hindrance to an earnest and striving effort. Check all greed and selfish tendencies, prevent every imfair attempt at down-treading, but never give a helping hand to check a deserving cause. This life of ours is weary enough for many poor souls as it is ; there are already sufficient evils without adding to them. The curse of poverty, the burden of bereavement, or the drunkard's folly, checkmate with loving sympathy so far as lies in your power, but never under any circumstances, by either aiding or abetting, prove a party t) hinder any upright effort. Be a man or a woman in daylight and in darkness, and y u will have the sati.sfaction of feeling that no one can justly discredit you ; and if tiiere were no fui-ther result than this, it is undeniably the brightest adornment of our nature to feel that we are living in practical symjiathy and at peace with all the world. %0\K SOIKJ. Fair as the stars that shine above, All radiantly bright, Thou art to me, mine OTily love, Aly heart and soid's delight. No monarch ever loved his crown, Or held his country dearer, Then I love thee, my peerle-ss one, My beautiful Louisa. Believe me, dear, believe me now, That I am oidy thine, And most sincerely here I vow No other shall b(! mine. For weal or woe, where thou shalt go, I only wish to please thee, And loyal i)rov(!, to thee, my lovo My beautiful Louisa. 46 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. No tempting wiles, or rivals fair, Shall change my love for thee, Devotion unto thee I swear. My bride if tliou wilt l)e. Then why withhold thy glad consent, Or longer let us linger. Yield now, I pray, and name the day, Aly beautiful Louisa. Hn BD^ress to a Cat : BEING A LOGICAL DISSERTATION ON MATERIALISM, ETC. Come hither, my Tabby, I'll talk unto thee, AVhilst lazily taking thy ease on my knee, Th(jugh only a cat, yet I value thee more Than many whom fortune attracts to my door. I wish to have silence from thee for awhile That wink of thine eye is a wise-acre's smile ; Any contrary work will make us disagree, And caterwauls surely provoking will be. Tnou well knowest, Tabby, how once thou wert weak, How plenty good fare made thee comely and sleek ; A twist of thy tail or a short plaintive mew. Expresses thy wish as to what I should do. Thou art but a brute and yet thankful withal, In receiving attentive response to thy call, Content on the hearth ever trustful and free, What better if any could any cat be ! And yet what a little it is to receive, So little indeed it is hard to believe ; But stranger it is that mankind are so blind. Only few are contented when fortune is kind. Then patiently listen to what I relate, Contentment's a boon, and a boon truly great, A brute such as thou purring low on my knee. Is richer and happier than thousands like me. 'Tis true thou art weak and dependeth so much Upon all that in reason we tender to such, But for just what thou art and doth daily receive, Thou hast reason to smile beyond any to grieve. Enough and to spare from each morning till night, Sufficient from then till another day's light, A sleep now and then with some frolic between, Completes in good faith all thy daily routine. BEGGAR MANUSCRirTS. 47 Nor hunger nor trouble e'er come to thy lot, Misgivings of fate never enter thy cot ; Whenever for change thou art truly inclined, Some innocent pastime is easy to find. Compared with us mortals how vast is the change, Since mind is a master that freely does range Away through the earth and far over the sea, Without any respite wherever we be. We boast of good sense with a heart and a soul, We prattle of hell and a heavenly goal ; We bolster religion and politics too, Then wonder next moment at mischief they do. We rave and we argue, or vow and blaspheme, We crave and we cheat, or we dote and we dream ; We grumble and sigh at the dravi'backs of life. But augment them daily with worry and strife. No wonder that men with such minds are so strange, No sooner they settle than sooner they change Each whim oi' each fa cy with which they're possessed. Or leads them or drives them as fancy seems best. They vaunt and command or they fume and they rave, Very cowrtrds betimes and sometimes they are brave ; They are skilful and clever, or giddy and weak. And blow hot or cold as they interest seek. But thee, my own Tabby, I understand well, Whatever lietides thou hast nothing to tell ; Whilst nations and rulers expeiienee throes, Yet thou art contented as anyone knows. 'Tis true that sometimes thou dost make a great noise At a seeming neglect or a too stringent voice ; Although when thou seest a quarrelsome mood. Thy instinct impels thee to hide and be good. But there ! thou are only a cat after all. Witliout an endowment unless 'tis thy "call;" Diplomacy never was study of thine. And as tnie as I live 'tis no study Divine. The arts it employs are but fitted for men Or women, or both having need of a brain, And even with such they oft-times prove a curse, When instead of panacea they make panic worse. And thus thou art blest in thy own lowly sphere And calmly exists ([uite regardless of fear, A lesson pourtraying in minding thine own. Since men seldom leave other's business alone. And yet how indifferent thou to thy fate. Not caring nor troubling concerning thy state ; Debarred from a prospect of heaveidy place, But safely secured from hellish disgrace. 48 BEGOAR MANUSCRirTS. A lord of creation witli both lieart and .sonl, Who boasts of eternal or infinite whole, Although he be blest with a far seeing mind, Tliy bnitish cniitentnient he ii'^ver can find. Tlie bliss that is born of an ignorant state Can ne'er be attained by the wise or the great, For low condescension will ne'er reconcile Presumption whenever united with guile. This then is the truth that thy kind same as men Are creatures of impulse at best now and then, But such must obey whilst manlcind regulate Dame Nature's resources to suit their own state. So Tabby we reach the old topic again. That vexes the learned and startles the vain, A topic tliat bristles I own with much pyint. But as nicely digestive as pudding or joint. The topic is : "Whether is matter or mind " Superior agents in ruling mankind V And this I will say that if matter they prove. Mankind will be levelled to thy brutish groove. I do not speak liglitly, for rather I'd weejj Than jest at the folly such reasoners keep. No reason I'm certain exists in the plea, That Materialism gives reason to me. Matter we grasp, but the mind we can trace, Or else had my logical rhyming no place ; For matter lies dead until mind gives it life, Or matter v/ould never be groundwork for strife. .Here is my simple body, such matter as that Is like unto thine although only a cat. Yet deejjer and further than matter of weight Is a difference reasoners cannot put straight. How comes it that I can well estimate thee ? How is it thou always art subject to me ? Why ever should I thy necessities please ? Or what dost thou care about minerals and trees ? What knriwest thou too of the heavenly sphere ? Or what compreliension of joy or of fear 'i Discover thy ancestry, tell me thine aim. What carest thou, too, for a good or bad name ? Bah ! It is nonsense to ask thus of thee, But yet 111 explain how the subject strikes me ; We cannot account for each thing that we know By reason that nature has rendered us so. We know for a truth that the mind can explore, We know its resources are boundless in store. We know that each object is handled as plain As any the feelings can measure again. BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 49 And wli3' do we know it ? because we can feel A tangible grasp as of metal or Kteul ; The eye of discernment that reason employs, Accords with the senses that make it the voice. And not only thus is it reason can feel, For reason can grasp what it cannot reveal ; As for instance, the soul it can bring into view, Although undefined and invisible too. We know it and feel it by faith and by force Of reason and logic which none can divorce, Accepting a doctrine of reason and right. Then faitli is the offspring first-barn to the sight. We cannot have reason unless we believe, We cannot believe only that we can feel. We cannot have feeling we cannot conceive. And can only conceive what the mind can I'eveal. So Tabby that's v;hv we are just as we are. And nature is so that we never should dare To call into fjuestioti one little doubt, Of end, or ot aim, or our mission about. We are not immortal although we are wise, Corruption can ne'er incorruptible rise, The same as the brutes we ret\u'n unto dust. But they, unlike us, have no future in trust. By viitue of virtues with ^vhich I am blest, In lieu of right usage I now stand confess'd ; A forfeit is made of a glory beyond. And I merit a future of torment to stand. So run away. Tabby, I've settled my mind. And feel rather better, I'm eased of the kind ; For studies like this prove uncommonly hard For mortals to practise with faithful regard. Ubc Call of S)ut\?» When a nation's honour lies at stake, and a country's in dismay, AVhen hearts and nerves their tension break to mingle in the fray, When htartlis and homes the strain abide, and subjects suffer long, When ruination stalks beside the struggling, patient throng ; 'Tis just in such a mcMncnt that tlie mind asserts its will, 'Tis then a nation breaks restraint o'er burdens thatcan kill Wlien leaders falter, heroes rise, to throw the gauntlet down And daring to tlie action, thus the daring wins renown ; So, in the hour of danger, let this your watchword be : " For the honour of my country, and the cause of Liberty ! " Trust the God of 15attles e'er yet the strife's begun. Then, up and do your duty, till tlie victory is won. 50 BEGGAR MAXUSCRIPTS. When hearts are sad, and blackness seems to hover through each day, Wlien anguish torn with scenes and dreams that seldom pass away, Wlien loved ones weep and children wail, for better days to come, .When troubles deep, each adverse gale is wafting nearer home; Be still, be calm, be brave, be strong, just face it like a man, The worst will soon be over if you grapple best you can ; 'Tis cowards only court defeat, and fortune metits the brave, For while there's life there's hope at liand, to decorate thj grave ; Then up, arouse yourselves, and strive to live with iDetter grace, When bad is worst, the worst at least may bear a smiling face. Be ready for the conflict, and respond to duty's call. Then duty in tlie doing yields a pleasure through it all. Misfortune ever proves itself a most unv.'elcame guest. The tug of war 'twixt it and self conduces slow to zest, But surely men need never shirk the doing what is right. Or else, indeed, the wasted work will aid a bitter plight. Be up and doing, stir yourselves, stand well unto your guns, Respect your obligations unto all the weaker ones. Be loyal, just, be firm, be trae, put all your armour on ; Tarry not, but struggle through, until the work is done ; Nations, countries, men apiece, each one and all have wrongs, One and all must do their best, or singly or in throngs ; The task may be a hard one, and the duty may give pain, But duty still is duty, and but duty will remain. xrbe Xast Misb. I feel very much for either the man or woman who has never listened to the sweetly- mourijful strains of the musical gem bearing the abo\'e title. Composed by an ardent musician, hailing from tlie Thrcjstle nest of Old England, as a part of Airedale, in Yorkshire is proudly calk-d, I never wonder indeed at the eminent Londoner's enthusiasm, when he frankly declared that this one, grand, simple effort of genius, was far moi-e sublimely musical, than all his own celebrated compositions put together. The mournful ring, the tender pathos, and gentle, melancholy cadence of the music, cannot fail to impress itself upon any intelligent listener's imagination ; for it truly conveys to all intents and purj^ost s, a last good wish very dearly expressed. But it is not of " The Last Wish " itself that I am going to speak just now, but of an incident which the strains of this touching requiem always bring fresh to my recollection. Originally hailing myself, from the village above-mentioned, but more often in the exigencies of life wandering away from it, it fell to my lot, one cold winter's evenimr, to find myself after a weary day's march, at a country place in one of the Midland counties. As usual in those harassing times I was in great straits, and upon that occasion my sole possessions were a very few pence in my pocket, and the rather seedy-looking clothes upon my back. I entered a lime washed lodging-house, which was a familiar resort for needy pedestrians in those days, and at once bargained with the landlady for a night's shelter. The place was almost filled with tlie resident lodgers who worked in the neighbourhood ; and most of them were then engaged in preparing the evening meal. Having no means of indulging my own appetite, and feeling the pangs of hunger very aciitely, I at once made my way into a far corner of the room, and entered into conversation with a late comer like myself. Curiously enough, our conversation was of home reminiscences, and interchanges of sentiment took place between us. One of the young men residents happening to hear us mention my native village, turned very sharply lound and gruffly demanded "what we knew about it ?" He was a strong, muscular fellow, of the medium height, black and grimy from his work at the forge, with a cut of features and general appearance BEGGAR MAXUSCRIl'TS. 51 that denoted a reckless and bold disposition. He was busily engaged at the fire, superintending the preparation of what, by its fumes, represented a savoury supper. He was a man, in truth, whom, when you see such, you instinctively avoid as dangerous to tlie peace ; but of course having been asked a question, it was only common civility to return him an answer. So I answered him (juietly thai I knew every nook antl corner of the village, and moreover, every grown-up i-esident there. He grew more interested and became more civil, and asked me further of many people and places that I remembered quite well. I grew more interested myself, and wondered what was going to hapj^en next, for I could judge by his knowledge and vernacular that he was intimately connected with the village somehow. " Did ta ever know ' Owd Peter' there V he queried after a time. Now as it happened, I had always been on very good terms with the old man, and had spent many hours in his company. In fact, no one was better known than " Owd Peter" was, for he was foreman of the largest woi-ks in the village for half-a-century, and he suffered besides from a terrible impediment in his speech. Perhaps it was this impediment which rendered him so notorious, for nothing delighted the village harum scaruiii so nmch siS ixn exhibition of his weakness. Again too, he was well known on account of tlie achievements of a wild runaway son of his, and because of his own campanological distinction ; so that altogether old Peter was common property, and I answered that I knew him quite well. However, the victuals being cooked and ready for discussion, the young man bade me cheerfully to draw up to the table, and get a 'bit o' sumniat to eit,' a request with wliicli I willingly complied, fesing that I was in a famishing condition almost. When we had eaten for a little time, he-banteringly said — " Awl tell thi what it is, owd lad, but tlia doesn't talk sich brooad Yorksher nah as tha once did," and, continued he after a pause, " thers varry few folks as ud know wheer tha comes fro." I assented to that cheerfiTlly, explaining my peculiar associations and proclivities, but owning a great regard still for " my native twang." " Well, awl tell tlii summat," said he, " whenever tha sees owd Peter ageon, just tell him tha's seen his bad lad ; an say awm all reet, wilta f ' I promised him gladly that I would do so, and pictured to myself the surprise with which the old man would hear the news. I cannot deny but that the confession rather startled me, for the youth's reputation was a bad one, and to be at such close quarters with him was far from being desirable. However, I noticed from that moment that the man's voice was In-oken, his eyes were dim with tears, and his food lay untnuched. It is not agreeable to see a strong man wrestling with the agony of pent-up remembrances, and when I saw the tear-dimmed eyes, I felt that even the most rugged heart is not wholly inaccessible. "Nah, mak tiiisel a gooid meal," he enjoined, after composing himself a little, " aw don't feel mich int citing way niisel somehah to-night, but tha'rt welcome to owt at aw hev." I thanked him heartily for his kindness, but his c nly reply was — "Don't mention it, but think on nah, an tell towd chap ; an say at av.' wish him weel." And I promised. I was away early next morning upon my travels, and so did not see him again ; but the clianged features and goutier tones as he gave me his loving message, will never be forgotten. I was only in a very sorry plight myself at the time, but it is really wonderful what a little sympatliy will do. And some montiis afterwards when I returned to tlie dear old home, I did not forget to keep my promise to him ; for, meeting old Peter in the main street, I acquainted him word for word with his son's remembrance and go.id wishes. And how the i)ld man's features relaxed when I told him everything ; how his eyes dimmed ; hr)w brokenly yet kindly he ejaculated " Poor lad ! Po(n- lad ! (4od bless him ! I can tell you, reader, wiioever you may be, that I felt repaid ten thousand times for any trouble it might have cost me, when I saw the loving unison of heart and sympatliy exhiliited in both father and son ; although in distance and appearances so wide apart. How good indeed i.s it to see such ^ympatily. Tliere may be tears and sadness ; there may be sacred yearnings and jiainful memories ; but every tear, every thought, every look and every word, is doubly sanctified thereby, and I felt glad because of my part in tlie occasion. It may be doubted, nay, it often has been, that 52 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. tender feeling can be manifested in humble life, and by the pariahs of society ; but the loving instinct, it may be, is far stronger in the despised ranks than is often credited. The old man \vas not loriking so strong and hearty a.« was his wont, and I felt as a consequence that his son's tearful good wishes were all the more appreciated. He shook my hand heartily before we parted, Ijut could not express himself in words, and it was not so very long after then that he succumbed to affliction, and found relief in death. Who can say that it was not easier for him to die with his wild son's loving message than without ? Hearts can keenly feel, and responsive love and spnpathy yields comfort even in death. There are few people indeed in our own locality, but respected the old man, for half-a-century of usefulness will tell its own tale ; and so, as he had officiated at many funerals and weddings in his day, it was decided by the neighbours to yield him a public funeral in return. And finally, in return for the many peals he liad rung for the villagers, they decided to ring a peal for him ; and whilst many hundi-eds of them crowded the beautiful grounds of the little cemetery on the hillside in honour to his loving memory, his comi-ades at the grave-side, with uncovered heads and muffled handbells in their grasp, feelingly and harmoniously rang their adieu, to the pathetic and mournfully solenm strains of " The Last Wish ;" the composer of which music the old man had known personally. It was about two years afterwards, when in improved circumstances, and going a journey south, I again saw the young man, and was enabled to repay him the kindness I had received at his hands. His appearance was much the same as when I had seen him before, except that he seemed more careworn, but his first words to me were : — " Did ta tell mi fayther what aw tell'd thi ?" So I told him everything as it had happened, and I shall never forget whilst I live, his happy, tender and trenmlous appearance, when I related how his father had blessed him. I do verily believe that if his redemption could be traced to any one cause more than another, it was owing to his father's love. And he broke down completely when I detailed the last sad scene of all at the grave-side ; how the whole village had turned out in his honour, and his comrades had played ''The Last Wish." He could not say what he wished to say of thanks, but he grasped my hand ; and with bowed head, he wept until his feelings were relieved. No other thanks would have expressed half so much. Hearts are often caught at the rebound, and I ventured to suggest a turning point in his life and actions, pointing out the unprofitableness of a reckless and dis:solute career. He said very little at the time, but that he had considered himself well has since been amply evident, for he returned home, became sober and thoughtful, and has now succeeded in earning the respect of the neighbourhood. A\'e are good friends still, and often comfort one another ; and now having become respectable, his own best wish and mine is, that he may remain so, and prove a \\ orthy son of a dearly loved and honoured father. XHnerpccte^. Within a large hall in a northerly town, Xot very long since, you must know. Along with a neighbour and friend — Mr. lJro^vn- I sat for an hour or so. The room — quite a large one — was very well pack'd With children of every degree ; Whilst some, who had further in life's pathway track'd, Attended to listen and see. BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 53 'Tvvas a temperance meeting was held on that night, And such as a man levies to see ; For tliat is the side which is safest and right, And where all tnie men ought to be. The simple addresses were brimful of truth, Condemning the drunkard's great sin ; The moral of each was to prove unto youth. What folly it was to begin. At length there arose a sedate looking man Whose manner was eai'nest and strong, He started at first where a drunkard began, And followed his course right alon