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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 — his<iod and Comforter— took charge of Moses there ;
" For such an end and such a Friend I " is c^•e^y Cliristian's prayeri
BEGGAR MAKUSCRTI'TS. 13
'Jibe "Go&5" at UDome.
I suppose we all know something, more or less, concerning the " gods." How
often other people have been amongst them I cannot say, but my own recollections
of their peccadilloes and peculiarities are nearly always .sufficient to inspire me with
a certain amount of humour not always of the mildest type. I do not allude to any
Idol gods, although some of them are idle enough in all conscience; so of course it is
understood that I make no travesty of the sacred character. The " gods " of this
sketch are of anything but a heavenly description, unless there be among them such as
believe with Christians — "Heaven is our Home." The "gods" whom 1 particularly
allude to are of so material a disposition that I venture in most instances to doubt
tiieir ethereal qualification entii'ely. How ever they managed to receive such an
appellatior, at all is beyond my conception, unless it be that generally speaking they
inhabit the higher regions of the places they resort to. Still, so much are they
bound up in our social life, that the theatrical and musical enterprises, if not at the
first of all started under their auspices, are yet greatly indebted to their patnjnage.
If you wish to know v/liere the applause comes from, the support comes from, the
noise comes from, and the condenniation comes from ; whether you care to
acknowledge the fact or not, the truth is — from the "gods." Therefore, ths "gods"
claim a pi^rticular share of our consideration, and further still, they receive it ; in
proof of which, note the superior acconnnodation now-a-days provided for them.
There is no doubt whatever about this, tliat the fact of them having received so
superlative a distinction, in name at least, would furnish evidence sutficient to
disturb the secular mind ; for tlie logic of its implication bristles with argument.
To our subject, however, — What manner of folks are the ' gods,' and whence come
they ? " They are not of one kind, as we knov/, inasmuch as they comprise male
and female, old and young, decently dressed, and ragged individualities. There
is, indeed, a great variety of the species, from grandparents to grandchildren, from
the patriarch down to the street arab. There are " gods " from choice, and " gods "
from necessity, decent "gods" and rakish "gods;" forming altogether, for the time
being, a combination powerful for either one thing or the other, but more generally
for the other, if that other be rowdyism or fun.
When a stillness as of death pervades the building, and a sudden .sound
as of the falling of a heavy body, accompanied by a chorus of execrations occurs,
it is ten to one upon the interrujjtion emanating from the sweltering, excited,
or mischievous "gods." When the mo.sfc pathetic and tender porti(m of a i)lay is
being enacted, and every sympathetic soul and kind-hearted listener is enthralled
with its intensity, any sudden outbreak, rush, stumble, clash, crash, and shriek
that rudely breaks the charm, is a mo.st certain indication that the combative
instinct has been roused amongst the "gods." Or, when the vocal accompaniments
of a pugilistic ".set to," with all its attendant stumbles, awake the echoes, and also
the ire of tlie whole " house," you may, in ninety-nine cases out (jf every hundred,
stake yoiu- last ]ienny that the "gods" are en evidence, and enjoying themselves
immensely. And by degrees we become imbued with the same characteristic
ourselves ; perhaps in a more refined fashion at first, but surely ending in a
resigned spirit of large-hearted toleration, sympathy, and brotherhood.
And, in fact, there is ample evidence, as managers can testify, that tlie
proportion of respectably-clad and fairly comfortable members of the "godly tribe"
lias largely increased of late years ; and, with that addition to tiieir numbers and
cliaracter, a moiu critical and exacting .sjjirit prevails, so that, perhaps, it is no
light task or compliment to satisfy the "gods " in these times. The unfortunate
female, minus a shawl or other head-gear, side by side with the more fortunate
miss or matron in all the glory of superior toggery, and who is accompanied by a
sturdy helpmate or jirotector, together with the very small .specimen of luimanity
whose occupation of street-vending or begging is for the time neglected, whilst he or
she as the case may Vie, pcrseveringly endeavours, and at last manages, to cheat the
"checker" at his post, and to sneak in unseen ; along with the careless and
broad-shouldered loafer, the strong tobacco odour from whose clothes and gums
seems to permeate the building, and whose frequent ejections of tobacco juice are a
standing (or sitting) joke and terror alternately— the.se constitute the better known
jiart of that original mass of humanity somewhat incongruously designated " the
gods," Add to those, ju.->t 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<r.
And he told us a tale of a bright little boy
Whose father had seen better days.
But who, through the drink, was a stranger to joy,
Since tlie habit he could not erase.
He also described how the wife had to plan
To get for them all daily bread.
And how people jeered at the once happy man
Who then was a drunkard instead.
And Johnnie —a smart and intelligent lad —
Was father's particular pet,
For his heart was not ruthless and viciously bad,
But only when drink he would get.
And it happened one niglit, when he started from home
To mate with the foolish and vain.
He heard little Johnnie entreating to come
A " tata," with father again.
He felt very sad as he looked at the boy.
For the question cost him a pang.
But roughly he bade him not thus to annoy.
And passed through the door with a bang.
His desolate wife keenly felt the disgrace,
Well knowing no money was there,
And tears trickled freely adown her sad face
In bitterest grief and despair.
Then brave little Johnnie — the youngster — uprose
And tearfully still did insist ;
Then quick through the door after father he goes,
While she — well, she couldn't resist.
And he followed along through each by-way and street
For tile lad couid not well understand
But tile tavern where fatlier his comrades did meet
Must own some attraction (^uite grand,
54 BEGGAR MANUSCRirTS.
So he followed him on, through the cold lUid the snow,
To the place he had hurried within,
And he crept in the room where his father did go
To drink beer, or whiskey, or gin.
And nobody noticed the youngster pass in.
Being each one stood up at the bar,
But being so cold, and a fire within.
He child-like did warm himself there.
But after a time, an old customer there.
Espied him, as proudly he stood,
And he wondered indeed to see the lad dare.
As though none but customers should.
Then he called out aloud, in liis rough, drunken tones :
" Holloa, lad ! what is't brings thee here ?
" Tha Stan's up so cleverly roasting thi bones ;
" Tell t' gaffer to fill thee some beer."
But the bright little chap saw his father stood by,
And he answered, as bold as could be :
" My dada comes here ;" and then heaving a sigh,
" I want to. stop with him and see.
" My dada declared that they didn't take boys
" To such kind of places as this,
" But if I can stay I won't make any noise,
"Nor do anything that's amiss."
And his parent stood there, and he heard every word.
And thought of the sin and the sliame ;
And his good honest nature resolved, as he lieard.
No longer would he be to blame.
And he picked up his Johnnie, so lovingly true.
Whilst manliness shone in his face ;
Then, kissing him, said, " My brave boy, it is you,
"That shall save me from further disgrace."
And there— at the counter — he vowed to his God
That he never would taste any more,
Declaring for ever he threw down tlie rod.
And passed with his child through the door.
And Johnnie went home with liis father tliat night.
Which his mother did wdnder to see.
But she wondered yet more at the far stranger sight,
That her husband was sober as she.
Tlien he kiss'd her, and gave her the money he had.
Relating what Johnnie had dime.
Explaining that rather than injure the lad,
Conversion in him had begim.
BEGGAR MAKUSCRirXS. 55
And his wife — poor vvoman — grew instantly rich,
And her heart sent a prayer up above ;
Her needle was stayed in the midst a of a stitch
To praise Him for mercy and love.
The fulness of joy overspread her wan face,
As Johnnie she pressed to her heart ;
The goodness of God had averted disgrace,
Disclosing a manlier part.
And the parents together with gratitude swell,
And offered thanksgiving to God ;
Whilst mercy heartfelt, beyond moi'tal to tell,
Enshrouded their humble abode.
The speaker that night told the story so well —
His picture was shown to the life —
Disclosing the depths to which drunkenness fell,
And the heart-rending grief of a wife.
And then, when he mentioned the scene at the bar.
His acting was earnest and true ;
I vowed to myself this description I'd dare.
Exposing the drink curse to you.
And many a tear and a sorrowfid face.
Betrayed how his efforts told well ;
And the purest of wishes arose from the place.
To save the poor drunkard from Hell.
Tlbc /ifticjbt of IRiiM'
The acting aright in life, is, and should be, a great power for good. It may not,
and does not in every case receive tlie world's adulation, for this is a selfish world;
but to those who act rightly it yields a settled conviction and peace of mind, that the
world can never give. They who act aright never need to fear, but the evil doer
always will. The might of right has a nobility, a strength, and a candour, that wrong
doing can never give. It is a nughty power, and all the world of wrong in battle
array, cannot i-ob it of its charm. They may assail, they may attack, they may kill
even, but right must ultimately prevail. Do then that wliich is riglit, stand by it and
maintain it. Doing right gives a peaceful mind — beyond the transgressor's com-
prehension — and wrong, however powerful, cannot prevent it. Right is above
temptation, and l)atHes Hell. Nature is with it, Heaven is with it, and conscience
demands it. The battle may be fierce, its light may be hid for a time, but its force
justifies it. It alleviates pain and sorrow, it soothes adversity, and sanctifies the doer.
If tliere were no other benefits, it is its own justification and reward. Be honest, be
true, be manly, be strong; and in time your strength and innocence becomes so plain,
and so contagious in its efficacy, tluit veiily none but fools sliall dare to dispute the
exceeding power, the sublime majesty, and the truly wonderful Might of Right,
56 BEGGAR MANUSCRirTS.
tTbe Doicc :Bc'^on'b.
(suggested by a midnight visit to a GItAVEYAKD.)
Halt thee, mortal, cease thy tread,
Let thy eyes anmiid thee f^aze,
Dare not to disturb the dead,
But return to thine own ways.
Let the evidences round thee,
Sacred to departed worth,
Prove, if only to confound thee,
All the fickleness of earth.
Bid thy simple wits to serve thee
But to hold a brief review ;
If, indeed, they don't unnerve thee,
Yet some service may they do.
Note the costly slabs erected,
Side by side with lowly mound.
Vanity thus- wise detected
Even in the burial ground.
Blots upon the face of nature,
Monitive of worldly pride.
Each a too convincing feature
Of its emptiness beside.
What is man that he should flourish,-
Vainly thus his j)uny might,
Since himself he cannot nourish
To prevent his manhood's flight
Tide and time the while o'ertake liim.
In a ceaseless hurried flow,
Still doth his presumption make him
Yearn to mastery below.
Why will he parade his weakness.
Or his vanity display,
Wlien his conscience prompts a meekness
Which befits him day by day.
Hear me, thou audacious mortal,
If thou woidd'st attain the goal,
Death is but the hidden portal
For the transit of the soul.
Life and death are hlrnt together.
In accord with Ood's design.
Nought of science can untether
Or unravel things Divine.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 57
What is His is far above thee,
What is thine belongs to Him,
If he did not dearly love thee,
Then in truth thine eyes were dim.
Go to, then, and let thy reason
Lead thee to the better path.
Live anew thy life's brief season,
ilindfiil what thou art and hath.
Hn Hcrostic.
IX HONOUR OF THE BAPTLSM OF BLACKBUEN'S " ROYAL " BABY, JUNE 21ST, 1888.
A fter many days, when Womanhood shall reign,
L ong though it seems — yet it is but a span,
E ven then, we hope that life within its train
X cells in beauty this harmonious plan.
A Ithough we know that Fortune's added years
N ever can wear the harmlessness of youth,
D oubtless there may in place of bitter tears
R emain for her sw'eet Innocence and Truth,
A nd so rest with the loved one love and ruth.
M ay, laughing May, sweet harbinger of joy :
A Hied to Hojie, untranmielled with alloy,
Y ear after year tliy Sylvan grace employ.
A uspicious day ; may each succeeding June
P rove fitter still with Nature to attune ;
P eerless though ever the Royal Sponsor be,
L et loyal friends and neighbours tender Love as free.
E re yet the cares of life come crowding round :
B e this the charm whence h:ippiness is found,
Y ea, this the shield 'gainst all unholy sound.
^nvoIUno tbc /lliusc.
Come, inspiring Muse ! and bring another moment's joy,
My heart is sad within me, for my life seems all alloy.
The road is rough and thorny, and I know not what to do.
So lend again thy kindly aid, to cheer my journey through.
Full often have I thee invoked in times f)f sore distress.
Yet often thougli I've needed thee, I need tliee now no less ;
I cannot find another frii'iid that I liojd half so dear.
Nor do I wish for other aid, while thuu remainest near.
^^ ibEggar manuscripts.
Let .sophists and philosophers disclaim thee as they may ;
Let fools of thee make ridicule, and brawlers have their say,
Still I can fully value thee, because I understand
A friend in need, thou art indeed, with ready, helping hand.
Then aid me now whilst imto thee my woes I strive to tell
For here I vow I never could, did I not love thee well ;
My head is bowed with sorrow, and my heart with anguish sore,
More care have I than man can bear, and never man had more. '
My life's a burden, yet it is to me of little weight,
Troubles lurk in every path, I cannot travel straight ;
Penury and sickness too, with endless pain and care.
Combine to make me wretched, for 'tis more than I can bear.
Bereft of home and comfort, and of kindred heart or friend,
Remain with me, O Muse, and cheer my journey to the end,
I'm stricken and faint-hearted, too— full disinclined to strive—
For man to man is so unjust, some fall where others thrive.
Then come, dear Muse, and favour me, with thy protecting care,
Endow me with forgetfulness of all that I must bear ;
Gloss again my sorrows o'er, and prove a faithful friend
And pilot me o'er life's rough sea, unto a happier end.
With thee the moments I enjoy, with thee I ease my pain.
With thee will I take comfort now, and stand erect again ;
I'll try to be a man once more, with purpose well unfurled,
And meet unflinchingly my fate, in battle with the world.
©lie Xittlc l^car.
Only a year ! And yet what a change
Just one little year has brought ;
Fancy could never so recklessly range
Awav from all reason and thought.
The life that was brightest is nothing but gloom,
The hope that was highest is gone ;
Both victor and \'ictim are laid in the tomb,
And sliadow and substance are one.
Only a year. Alas ! what a span
Of suffering, worry, and crime,
One little year discloses to man,
Though 'tis but an atom of time
Great joy may be changed into comfortless grief.
And happiness turn to despair.
Yet the days seeming long are in trutli only brief,
For swift is the flight of a year.
BEGGAR MANUSCRH'TS. 59
Only a year ! How well may we say
'Tis like to a vain empty boast,
For quickly indeed doth it hurry away
When life is entwined with it inost.
A breath, or a pasfe, yet mankind cannot tell
The changes that time ever bring,
But each may assist their good fortune to swell
By watching whilst still on the wing.
Mben /iDeu are Sa&.
When men are sad instead of glad,
And all things seem awry.
How easy then, for wayward men,
Precaution to defy ;
Because some plan goes wrong, forsooth
And trouble looms ahead.
We reel along like giddy youth
Tn 'wilderment and dread.
The world is not (though oft forgot)
A palace of delight ;
And men nuist work, and cannot shirk,
A share of common blight ;
A childish mood attains no good.
Nor wins a steadfast friend,
And halting ways can only raise
A sad regretful end.
How happy we might only be.
Did we but estimate
In better light, what to the sight,
Displays a vast estate
Of nature's gems and diadems
Implanted for our use ;
Examples all, inspiring gall
To follow their abuse.
\Miat boots it then, I say again,
In this haphazard life,
To build despair, and hasten care,
By drifting into strife ;
Let each enjoy, and well employ
Tlie good things at command ;
And just as free and eaa-nest be
To meet reversing hand.
So have good cheer, and give your car
Unto this homely strain ;
The day will follow evening,
As tile sunshine follows rain ;
Stand firm to every duty.
And with rigliteousness shod.
You will rise again in beauty,
And be nearer unto God,
60 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
Never employ sulks. If they were not cultivated they could not exist. They
always prove harmful, and under no circumstances is it possible to be otherwise, for
they are at best an unnatural and ineffective method. Nature may attune with
humanisiny: efforts, but artifice cannot compete with it. Sulks are artificial. If you
have a grievance, out with it, and let it air itself. Nothing like ventilation forgiving
satisfaction ; secrets and sulks go together. Freshen your grievance, and exposure will
drive it. Sulks are unmanly and treacherous in the highest degree. Harbour no
secrets, do nothing underhand, or fretting and sulking will never cease. Sulkers are
cowards, for sulks are unfair. Sulks are selfish, and in truth often cruel. Speak out
your sentiments ; affirm or deny, but never sulk. Mischief, uneasiness, and sorrow
are ever the offspring of sulks. There cannot be love in sulky people. Curb your
wilful temper, if you have such an incumbrance ; and bear meekly your deserts. Give
up all peevishness at once. Put away childish views and habits, and try to be happy.
Be open, mingle with your kind, and do everything above board. Be cheerful, and
never sneak, and I'll wager a trifle that you never sulk.
When Night's sombre mantle Creation is clouding,
And Nature is still'd into deathly repijse ;
When silvery Luna is hid by o'erclouding.
And all things around besjieak the day's close ;
How well to reflect on the greatness and wisdom — ■
The infinite Majesty throned upon high :
The grand and mysterious rulings of Heaven
Encompassing earth with an Omniscient Eye.
What mercy and grace : how vast and how tender —
How deep and how mighty the Power above ;
What wonderful goodness that can so well render
All things around to accord with His love.
O, Infinite Being ! the Source and the Fountain
Of Love, and of Hope, and of Time without end :
Designer of all, even ocean and mountain.
How rich is poor mortal in calling Thee Friend.
How well is frod's wisdom displayed in His power,
How ample His mercy dispensed to mankind ;
How tenderly precious in life's darkest hour
They only that serve Him can gratefully find.
The stars and the heavens, the earth and the ocean,
All things created and breathing with life.
Proclaim a Supreme and Onniipotent Motion,
One Almighty Ruler in peace or in strife.
O, when will poor mortals yield Heaven the glory,
Discover (rod's goodness, and yield Him the praise
Since all things around us proclaim the same story.
The Lord's the Arbiter that numbers our days.
The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness within it.
The bright starry Heavens His own resting-place;
His hand is revealed upon everything in it,
,A.nd blessed are we to partake of His grace,
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 61
^Beautiful XTbinos ot %iU.
The beautiful things of life,
How little in value Keein,
Though manifold and rife,
We pass as in a dream.
Ungrateful even in thought,
How thankless are mankind,
Remembering as we ought.
The Source from whence desiii-n'd.
The priceless boon of Health
With many comforts given.
The joys of love and wealth,
Encrowued with lioi)e of Heaven.
The trees and plants that bloom.
Luxuriant and fair, —
With food or sweet perfume.
Proclaim Almighty care ;
The treasures of the deep
And wonders of the sea,
Our gratitude should keep
Both evergreen and free.
The birds that sl<im the air,
The glories of the skies,
All Nature full and fair,
Bids thankfulness to rise.
Then let us always prove
How thankful we can be,
Abiding each in love
And peaceful amity.
Enjoying to the full,
The l)lessings all around,
However In-ight or dull.
In kind, or taste, or sound.
Poor mortals may not trace
The Maker's wise design,
But full in every place
His care and goodness shine.
The lowliest of earth,
In life, in heart, or mind.
A purpose had in birth.
If only we might find ;
62 BEGGAR MAXUSCRIPTS.
Complete in each detail,
The rough becomes the smooth
Man's artifices fail,
Divulging eacli, forsooth ;
So let us take to heart.
The while we live our days,
That manhood's better part
Is to render grateful praise.
MatcbiUG 'em off.
Many a time in my rambles through the streets, near to the Police Court or
the Railway Station, has my attention been directed to the motley groups of
people, who, by some strange meandering of fate, always seem to congregate
thereabouts. If there be any one time more than another when they abound, it
seems to be when the necessity of a Prison Van is most useful and convenient. Why
this should be so to the extent it appears, is not so clear to my reason — unless it be
that tastes and inclinations are more morbid in their character than is generally
supposed to be the case — but certain it is that the fascination exists in a most
surprising and tieneral degree. The particular time when the van has to make its
appearance at the prison gates seems to be very widely known, and CDnsequently
the assembling of those who know serves as a magnet to attract greater numbers of
spectators, and lends greater consequence to the occasion. Therefore it is that the
ceremony of vatchiivj the prisoners q//'has obtained generally here-abouts, and as they
are escorted from the assembly-room to the steps of the vehicle in waiting there is
nearly always an interesting but very mixed type of conversation carried on between
the prisoners and their friends or acquaintance in the crowd. Upon these occasions
there does not seem to be any manifestation of bitterness on the part of the police
towards their charges, as a rule ; and certainly it is well on the whole that such
should be the case, for it would only provoke retaliation in a more or less degree,
from either the pulilic or the press. Tliis conversation is carried on by many voices
at one time, and, as the time when it occurs is limited to a very short span indeed, it
has sometimes happened that the prisoner could not discover his correspondent's
identity, much less to carry on and maintain a healthy and satisfactory dialogue.
However, as the wits are sharpened in the case of old hands, for such an emergency,
and terribly blunted and paralysed in the unlucky new ones ; as much is probably
"made out" as serves for the purpose ; and without a doubt sufhcient will have been
said to either appease, disturb, or annoy, as will last each one of them for some time to
come. There can be no denying that the receptions usually accorded to one or
another, as the case may be, constitute to some others a very grievous fomi of
punishment indeed ; and, doubtless, many a poor soul would consent to have his or
her term of imprisonment doubled could t'ley only escape the " exhibition " torture ;
and for such unfortunate wi-etches it is a very hard lot indeed. It is not such a
difficult matter to distinguish the different t3npes of character, and I have sometimes
thought that if the positions were only reversed, and a few gaolers were placed in
the same predicament, they would in many instances fail in exciting a similar anidunt
of .sympatliy. But, as we know — and the detective force know also — appearances
are often deceitful ; and so we will not attempt to judge upon that head. V\'e must
admit, that generally speaking, the class of delinquents who face the Bench are much
of a "sameness," as the saying goes; and there is seldom any need for much
study, deep research, special attention, or any great share of wisdom or legal lore ;
so that it may well be that magistrates of experience are in truth the very best judges
of all that should command their discretion in connection therewith. At any rate,
if tliey possess any true manhood at all, most assuredly they will prove so. There
are now and again a few piisoners who step jauntily enough into the van, and who
seem to relish the whole matter as a labourer would his holiday. These are altogether
characterless as regards morality, and it is only on account of physical self-benefit
that they thus seem to embrace the unenviable notoriety. This class is largely
composed of females of tlie lewd type, and as they well know that dissipation has it
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 63
penalties, they have jvist sufficient sense left them to enable them to appreciate the
virtues of enforced chastitj', cleanliness, and temperance, knowinfj, as they do, that
they will emerge from " durance vile" in a hearty, vigorous condition, ready and
fit for the old life and habits. Of all vile offenders against society, these surely are
the vilest. We may rail against the drink traffic as we like, but it is such offenders
as these — whose doings, in a meai-ure must be winked at by members of the police
force in our large towns — who are the chief manufacturers of crime in the country.
Choosing as their associates the most reckless and abandoned of their ouce-a-day
dupes, they hound them on by their hellish artifices into greater crime, until they
hold their liberty as it were in their hands. Tlien, should the man not have become
lawless enough to brutalise and Vudly the intemjjerate victims of their decoying arts,
he is betrayed into the hands of the police for some petty misdemeanour previously
undiscovered, and so is often made through such means the vicious and
villainous pest of society that he is. How niisplaced, indeed, is the pity
engendered of their prison plight ; only God knows how many ruined homes and
broken hearts can be laid to the harlot's chai-ge. But enough of such. Safely
cabined in the prison van, away scour the crowd, or the main portion of it, through
tlie streets at full run towards the railway station, there to have one last
glimpse of the poor wretches descending from the vehicle to run the gauntlet of the
whole assemblage theie present, idlers, passers-by, and passengers included. What a
crowd it is, too, to be sure ! One would suppose by tlieir features, demeanour, and
apparel, that at least two-thirds of the spectators had already made acquaintance with
the same establishment that the State-paid and manacled travellers are
journeying to. How pinched, how woe-begone, and how cunning are their
visages ! How painfully interested do they seem in the welfare of those, who,
although deprived of their liberty, do yet enjoy ten times over a more beneficial
restraint and protection tlian their erstwhile chums. Butwliocan imagine the grief —
the deep consuming grief — of the poor unfortunate prisoner, as the case may be,
who, from sheer inability to pay the fine and costs incurred for having had his house-
chimney on fire, or even to pay his rates, must perforce be linked to and marched
along with some low desjiicable vagabond, or worse still, with a hardened criminal,
(xod help such unfortunates, say 1 ; and may the law not fail in helping them
also, ere long, I am sadly afraid that we think too little of these things whenever
we are brought into close proximity to our Police Court victims, and that, somehow,
the best part of our attention is directed to the more audacious members of the
degraded fraternity. It would hurt our f jelings, jar upon our nature, and eidist our
sympathies too greatly did we allow ourselves to be occupied with a study of
these wretched beings and their fate ; and so, like the vultures we are, we let them
severely alone, and consign them immercifully to the oblivion of forgetfulness. That
is the truth, I am sorry to say ; and in our liumble behalf we may fairly urge that
little practical good could possibly attend our single efforts in so morbidly
melancholy a direction. There they are, however, the best and the worst of them ;
and, could each of them only know it, it is far better to be resigned to their lot, and
endeavour, bad as it is, to extract from it any grains of comfort there may be hidden,
than to busy themselves with regretful or revengeful brooding. Some of tlieni do
this, poor souls ; and the straightenetl shoulders, the erect mien, and the steady
stride bear witness thereto. It cannot be expected that any prisoneis would laugh
loudly and long, for that would certainly be enigmatical conduct ; but a cheery
word, a smile, or a pleasant nudge are manifestations both feasible and proper ; and
so some of tliem endeavour thusly to comfort each other. Some, indeed, are
anything but satisfied with such innocent arts and wiles ; and for these, a piece of
twist tobacco, a fully chai'ged and burjiing ]>il)e of tobacco, or a last drain of beer or
whiskey, represent tiuly the olijects of tlii-ir most tonder solicitude ; and occasionally
they are gratified therewith. " Ta, ta, Liz ! " cries a voice in the crowd ; " Cheer up,
Tom," says another ; " Keep thi pecker up ! " bawls a third ; and from amidst the
surging and struggling mob who crowd the pathwaj', the police hurry their
prisontn-s along to the jilatform like driven cattle ; whiL«t the liandcuflFed crew, with
many brave efforts to no(l, smile, or sign a farewell, tramp on at a ([uickstep,
and are soon out of siglit. The i)ris()n van huiries liack unto its accustomed shed;
the i)olice return to report progress ; the mob break up and dis])erse ; whilst we
ourselves wander away homeward, sentimental and glum, through "wwtc/tmy the
pi'inoncrs off."
64 nEGGAU MAXUSCRIPTS.
Bebicatlon SbaJ^esperian.
[Being a Greeting to the Pounder of a Sliakesporian Banquet, at tlie Sliakespeare Hotel,
Huddersfield ; he being a Shakcaperian actor, by name Shakespeare Hirst. April, 1881.]
Hail to thee of ready voice, attuned to minstrel lay,
Hail thou troubadour, and grant this liberty I pray :
Namesake of a master mind, and friend to humble bard,
Hail thee, Boniface, and yield the writer thy regard.
What matters it if until now we twain liave never met,
Are we not enamoured both, and serve without regret —
Sweet Poe.sy, the gentle muse ; that ever and again
Enliveneth the drooping heart with varying refrain.
Then hail, thou fond remembrancer of Avon's peerless bard.
Press t)n with all devotion, and betoken thy regard,
Flourish yet thy darling hope and hope to flourish still.
Give votaries true welcome and befriend them witli "•ood-will.
o
Let the festive cheer be spread as in the days of yore,
Charge and pledge fidelity and friendship evermore ;
Bid each saddened heart be glad, and start its life anew,
For darksome days are be^it forgot, where comforters are few.
Read again the sober verse that token learning's staff,
Tell again the meny tales, that listeners may laugh ;
Bid the company be gay, and push a pleasant tlieme,
Let the hours speed away as in a pleasant dream.
Teach alike to old and young the duties of their sphere,
Entertain with portions neat of records fitly dear ;
Prove alike t j every one his seasons of the mind.
An eloquence atid wisdom both engaging and refined.
'Tis meet for every living soul, and good for bodies too.
The sad, and merry, or sublime, are well displayed to view ;
The high or low, or good or ill, whatever be man's lot,
Is pictured fair, with skilful care, and never point forgot.
Then hail thee, friend, and take from me this token of respect,
Though humble, yet I ne'er disgraced nor man, nor creed, nor .sect ;
In simple parlance I bestow, although in guise the worst.
My mshes strong, for comfort long, unto thee, Shakespeare Hirst.
Ubc 1Rew Estate.
We have read and we have pondered of the mischief born of caste.
We have studied long and wondered o'er the history of the past ;
We have gathered and digested all the records up to date.
But cannot find a paragraph about — The New Estate.
Conservatives and Liberals we had thought we understood.
And extreme \V higs and Tories, too, we rated as we should ;
Even Rads and Independents we had learned to tolerate,
But own to being puzzled, over this — tlie New Estate.
BEGGAR MANUSCRiriS. 65
A Tory once was known to be an advocate of class,
Who firmly clung to privilege and hardly let one pass ;
The Church and Constitution he held big with his own fate,
But never tolerated any upstart — New Estate.
A Whig, too, was a gentleman who played a useful part
In fireoching up economy with opposition smart ;
In the reveime and taxes, too, his interest was great,
And so would not demean himself w ith any — New Estate.
The Radicals, of course, we know have very forward views.
And will, in spite of Closure, still obstrtict and still abuse ;
They bait and bite, and angle well to drive a bargain straight,
And possibly have interests in this — the New Estate.
Of Independents, 'pen my word, I scarce know what to say —
There certainly is such a class in Parlianivnt to-day.
They seldom rise sensational, and know well how to wait
Without, indeed, a stirring need to start a — New Estate.
Who are they then ? What is their aim ? Of what extraction they ?
The people certainly should know what underlies their play.
Are they true-hearted democrats and agitating well,
Or is the Democratic cry a swindle and a sell ?
Conservatives, we know it well, are joinini^ in this cry —
Liberals too, have struggled hard for all they would supply.
There surely cannot be a breach in ought but ways and means,
Then why not put in Conference, an ending to such scenes ?
Come, Democrats, declare yourselves and tell us what you mean —
Say, are you on the people's side, or making that a screen ?
Is this a trap for privilege, or do you stand for right.
Pray tell us that we may esteem and prove your honour bright.
•ff^arD %mc5.
'Twas in the merry Christmas time,
When all is joy and love.
When bells from every steeple chime,
In praise to God above ;
When all the earth in gladness meet
In pleasure's sweet accord,
And eacli with he.irty welcome greet
The Birthday of tlie Lord.
Upon this bright auspicious day,
When hearts should all be glad,
Ahuml)le cotter's daughter lay
In bitter I>light and sad,
A wasting, lingering, fatal ill
Enchained her to her bed.
Defying love and care, and skill,
Creating grief instead.
66 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
'Twas very cruel each one thout,dit
To suffer fate so hard,
To lose the comfort life had brought,
And reap such a reward.
A prettier or a gentler lass
Had never joined in play,
And yet the verdict forth did pass,
To die on Christmas Day.
Imagine, each one, if you can,
The sad, depressing scene,
The broken and unhappy man
Who had contented been ;
Imagine, too, liis weeping wife,
So weary, worn, and sad,
The stricken daughter losing life
And all that makes life glad.
A frail young creature, well endow'd
With every sense and care.
So very soon to wear the shroud
For lifeless clay to wear.
Consider then, the parents' woe.
And bitter, deep distress.
To see their only darling so
In utter helplessness.
And yet the Christmas bells rang on
With men'y, joyous peal.
And bands of choristers sang on
In "thankful, happy weal ;
And all around tliem, far and near,
The festive tidings spread.
And sorrow lingered only there,
In constant fear and dread.
It had not been so long ago.
Since she with all the rest
Of youthful friends in playful show,
Could gambol with the best.
Her mother's pride and father's pet,
Enfreed from aught of harm ;
Her simplest wish was gladly met,
To shield her from alarm.
And there she lay — a shattered wreck
Fast hurrying away ;
Their hearts did almost seem to break,
Ujjon that holy day.
And whilst they tended her ho well,
Her playmates sang outside.
And tearfully in song did tell
Why Jesus lived and died.
They sa.ng about His blessed birth.
And all that did attend,
Of how He also lived on earth,
And i)roved tlie sinner's Friend.
They sang al3f)ut His precious love
And suti'erings on the cross,
Of His translation up above,
And gain for every loss.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 67
And whil.st they sano'jeach trembling limb
Her pleasure testified,
For she had learnt to trust in Him
Who had for sinnei's died.
Yet still the tears trickled down
Her wan and wasted cheek ;
'Twas hard indeed with dear ones round
The last farewell to speak.
Her plajnnates kissed her one by one
And bade the "long good-bye,"
And when each one away had gone
She burst in fretful cry ;
And thus she lay with saddened heart
And tear-bestreaming eyes.
'Twas hard indeed with all to jiart,
And never more to rise.
Full anxiously her parents tried
To soothe her deep distress.
And each essayed with loving pride
The darling one to bless ;
And then she gently went to sleep,
Entwined in fond caress.
To wake no more from slumber deep
Till Gabriel sounds to bless.
The bells still rang ; and all aror.nd
Was joy, and peace, and love.
And everywhere was heard the sound
Of praise to God above,
But when at length the worthy pair
Again stood by her bed,
She had release from every care,—
The Cotter's child was dead.
And soon they carried her away
Into the old churchyard.
Assured at the Judgment Day
Of Heavenly leward.
Then quietly they settled down.
Bereft of child and pride.
Remembering she gained a crown
The Christmas Day she died.
©It Criticism.
There are several passages of Sciipturo which have a direct bearing on this
subject, notable amongst which are: '■'■Jiuhjr not, hut //e he judf/eil ;" and '* Let
him who is withdut sin cast the first stone." It is so easy at times to under-rate
or over-rate another, that a man must indeed be very careful lest a thoughtless
action or malicious feeling pi-edominate over what is just and right, Learning or
experience alone should ever be the guiding principle in a critic's work, for without
such competence, folly will ensue. Honest ciiticisni is uprigiitness, false criticism
is cowardice, and none may lightly essay the task ; for so surely as that sunshine
follows stonn, it is, that the fruits of criticism — good, bad, or indifferent — will
68 BEGCxAR MANUSCRirXS.
inevitably appear in due course. Fault-finding is not criticism, for it blinds us to
the virtuous side ; and favouritism fails likewise. No man .should attempt to
criticise that which he is ignorant of, if so, it is damnatory in its rebound.
Surface minds cannot yield honest criticism, and criticism without qualification is
slanderous. If every critic would remember that his own deci.'^ions receive
criticism, there would result more honesty. Place, bluster, and wealth, are no
qualifications of a critic ; for such an one is sure to be ridiculed, and his decisions
reversed some day, alive or dead. True criticism is humanity proper, and a_ touch
of nature or friendship should animate the ruling. In unprincipled hands it is a
dangerous power for evil, in Innnane cnies a great lever for enlightenment. So let
each one try in the opportunities of life, to remember always that none are so
good that they cannot be better, and none so bad that they cannot be improved.
Thus everyone can be benefited ; and there cannot be a truer and straighter method
employed for that end, than the upright and downstraight action of honest criticism.
%iU as it is.
(allegorical.)
Once on a day, in a fertile resort,
Wliere wild flowers grew in profusion, and free,
And Nature in splendour maintained her Court ;
A stranger young Blossom there liappened to be
Transplanted, untended, bedraggled, and bruised,
Not boldly nor vain — but full meekly it lay,
Desirous withal to be only excused,
For daring to live as unfortunates may.
By little and little the blossom did thrive
Albeit neglected and low.
While all other flowers united, contrive
Not one sign of love to bestow.
Nor feeling nor friendship did any disclose —
Divided they seemed past recall ;
Yet liravely surmounting the list of its woes,
It flourished in spite of them all.
It struggled along till its usefulness gained,
A place in the heart of the crowd ;
But just as the same it had duly attained.
Again were the murmurers loud.
And when by-and-ljye it discovered a friend,
\\ ho dared to unburden his mind.
The shriek that was heard was so madly absurd,
New friends did the blossom then find.
And truly 'tis so in the Imttle of life :
A man may be wretched and sad.
He may also be hamper'd with worry and stiife,
But jealousy wishes him mad.
And the worst of it all, is that slanderous blows
Are cowardly dealt in disguise —
For a Cur never dare to intrude but his nose,
Lest punishment open his eyes.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 69
H BuUi^
If a man on this earth be difcihonest and mean,
To take an advantage be known or be seen,
If he in his heart be a coward, I ween —
That man is a Bully.
If a man strike dismay into peaceable mind,
By sad misbehaviour and mischief combined ;
If he is both selfish and cruel, I find — ■
That man is a Bully.
If a man of his strength make a brutal display.
Abusing his manhood by night or by day.
If he's dissipated and idle, I say —
That man is a Bully.
If a man make a boast (jf a. virtuous part.
The while being stony and vicious at heart.
If his life be a lie — his pretensions apart, —
That man is a Bully.
If a man be unkind unto children, 'tis true,
It proves him a cur who would meaner things do,
If he loided it over a poor woman too.
That man is a Bully.
If a man lend himself to the working of ill,
And lives so that none can extend a good will.
If he be unworthy his station to fill.
That man is a Bully.
1kinblv> 2)ec&5,
Who can guage the tender measure,
Or tlie force of kindly deeds ?
Telling how each heart doth treasure
Such attention to its needs.
Tndy is the language spoken :
" Blessings fall in double store ; "
Since to Ileal a spirit broken
Sanctities the healiuLf more.
In your heart, as in your dealing.
Let each one be kind and true, .
Ever offering fellow-feeling,
As ye would each should to you.
Never let a paltiy action
Stain a conscience good and clear
There is deeper satisfaction
• In upholding honour dear.
70 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
Though the world mayhap deride you,
And you lose a seemiiip' gain,
Let uprightness ever guide you,
If respect you would attain.
Kindness never fails in blessing ;
Sympathy sheds peace around ;
Ever in the conflict pressing,
Prove a man in honour bound.
Why shoidd any be so cruel.
E'er to wish his fellow harm ;
Life, at most, is but a duel ;
Death deprives of every charm.
Better far it is to wander.
Always gentle, simple, kind,
So that in our journey yonder.
No regrets disturb the mind.
Peace, and Love, and Understanding,
Far surpasseth worldly store ;
Conscience ever is commanding
Each to love his neighbour more.
Oh ! if men would only cherish
Purity of thought and deed.
Rivalry would quickly perish,
Yielding to the better creed.
(in west YORKSHIRE DIALECT.)
It wor dark as I turned aat at haase
Just to smook and parade abaat t' street
An' all wor as quiet as a maase,
Exceptin' mi own noisy feet.
So I trailed awaj^ carelessly grand,
Just as I oft used to trail,
Contented as ony in t' land
Crawlin away like a snail.
I hedn't a care nor a thowt
At could cause me a trifle o' pain,
Mi coilscience wor burdened wi' nowt
In t' shap of a troublesome stain.
So I smooked an' I trailed at mi eeas,
An' felt what it ^\'or to ]m free,
I'd nobbut mi own sel to pleeas.
An' noabdy felt leeter nor me.
* For Glossary of words employed in this and the succeeding rhyme, sec Page 70. The
pronoun / is used purposely in prcforeneo to aw in this pooni, in order to prove clearer to the
teadel's comprehension.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIl'TS.
I wanted for iiothin' to eit,
An' nothin' to drink or to .s})end,
I'd noljbut to keep misel straight.
An' wor certain o' muny a friend.
So I smook'd and I strutted away
As cheerful an' breet as a lark,
An' as heedless as though it wor day
For all it wor onimost jjitch dark.
I could see nowt but stars intut sky,
As they twinkled and shone all so breet,
And I noticed 'em twinkle an' fly,
An' tliowt it a glorious seet.
An' I WDudered an' stai-ed sich a while
Till mi een gat quite dazzled an' dim,
An' I'd sauntered away hauf a mile,
Takken up wi' mi studious whim.
Then I thrust mi owd pipe in mi coit,
An squared misel up like yo've seen,
I wor capp'd at I'd fon sich a toit.
For I hardly knowed wheer I'd been.
But I stood for a A\'liile wheer I wor,
Just to sattle misel in my mind,
An' I'm blest if I hardly durst stir,
For I'd stared misel varry near blind.
But after a while I coom raand.
An' bethowt me to toddle back hooam,
When I yerd all at once a strange saand
At startled me rarely, by gum !
Then I yerd it ageaxi quite plain
An' mi hair peeakd straight o' mi heead,
I wished I wor back hooam again.
For I thowt it wor summat fra't deead.
It worn't like a sliaat or a screeam,
If it wor I should easy hev known,
An' I'm Certain 1 worii't in a drecam.
Just as certain as that wor a nioan.
But I hasted to get aat o' t' gate.
For I wanted no bother wi' nowt.
An' I knew it ud \)e raither late.
Though I hedn't gicn time any thowt.
So I framed misel ontut road back,
An' started a gooin' at full run.
But not bein' certain o' t' track
I blacken'd as sooiu as begun
72 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
An I heeard the varry pame saand
'At I'd nobbut just noticed afoor,
An' I turned varry sharply araand,
Ther wor mischief abaat I felt sure.
But I thowt just for once in mi life
At a secret I'd try to finnd aat,
'Twornt oft as I mixed up wi' strife,
But I meant it if strife wor abaat.
So I waited to yer it agean,
An' bith mass if it worn't cloise by,
It saanded full waikly wi' pain
Just like a young moorcock's cry.
An' mi heart fairly louped wi' surprise,
An' I trembled in every limb,
I wor freetend to oppen mi eyes
Tor all wor so dismal an' dim.
I knew there wor no help for me
If some mischief wor plannin' araand,
But I waited for owt ther mit be.
An' I heeard the self and same saand.
Then I heeard it again and again,
Till I wondered wliatever's to do ;
I felt as it couldn't be men.
An' determined to follow it through.
I thowt happen somedy's in pain,
So I sooin f on a match and a leet.
An' I hunted araand me and then
I leet on a wonderful sect.
A poor little youngster laid theer,
In't turnin' just off at roadside,
"Wi' nobody ony where near.
To soothe it whenever it cried.
It wor cruddled ameng t' tufts o' grass,
An' wor lapp'd varry snugly an' dry,
But hardly left room for to pass
For ony 'at chonced to go by.
Besides, it wor lat on at neet.
An' it must hev laid theer some while.
It wor nearly lieart-brokken wi' freet,
An' couldn't give one little smile.
An' t' poor little thing fairly sobb'd,
An' its clieeks were as cowd as could be ;
To find it of comfort so robbed.
It wor almost heai't-burstin' to see.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 73
Its poor little een oppen'd wide
An' they looked sich a look in mi face,
I felt as if I could hev ci'ied,
To see sich a pitiful case.
It would hardly be four years owd,
But it seemed to be middlin' an' strong,
Yet it couldn't liev missed bein cowd,
Through liggin' in t' oppen so long.
I had plenty o' matches bi clionce,
So I managed to keep up a leet,
An' I started to coax it at once
Because it wor flade so o' t' neat.
I wiped it its nice little face,
An' stroked daan its bonny black hair,
I straightened its clooas into place.
An' acted with every care.
Then I kussed it an' kuddled it oft.
Just soas it mit tell I wor glad,
But I felt varry sheepish an' soft
When it started o' callhi' me " Dad."
So I lifted it up off at grund,
An' foulded it into mi arms,
Determined I'd noan be behund
In shieldin' it 'gainst all alarms.
But mi heart wor as full as a fitch,
For I felt what good luck it had been,
I'd hev faced oather giant or witch
To sarve mi poor innocent queen.
I didn't think haa it would end,
But I helped it an' did what I could.
For I felt at it wanted a friend
An' resolved what I could do I would.
I'm sure at I felt varry glad
In seein' haa things hed turned aat.
But I thowt after all it wor sad
To hev littend so strangely abaat.
So I kuss'd it again and again,
Tryin' liard for to mak it content ;
I lapjjud mi coit raand it an' then.
Towards mi owd homestead I went.
An' 1 carefully threeded mi way.
An' gat iiitut roadway t(j walk.
An' t' mooin comin' aat breet as day.
Caused t' youngster to prattle an' talk.
74 BEGGAR MANUSCRIfTS.
An' it hodded as breet f.s could be
To leet ns back home to mi cot,
An' t' baini wor a beauty to see,
In spite o' t' exjiosin' it got.
But just as we landed tut ^street,
I seed such a bustle abaat,
I tli(.)wt \\'e'd be best aat ot sect
Till I know'd what med people be aat.
So 1 axd of a chap comin past
Whatever hed stirred 'em like that.
An' he said " Ther's a youngster ats lost
" An' nobody knows where it's at ;
"An' its mother's near aat of her mind,
" For thers nobody knows wheer to goo,
" They've tried all their utmost to find
" Yet nobody knows what to do."
But as sooin as he spak I rushed aat
An' hurried tut middle ot craad.
An' for all I geet jostled abaat,
I shaated for t' iriother reight laad.
An' I showed 'em mi charge safe an' saand,
An' it laughed as they shaated wi' glee,
An' varry sooin t' news spread araand,
'At t' babby hed landed wi' me.
Then its mother coom cryiu' like mad,
An' I gav her it safe in her arms,
She stroked it an' kussed it so glad
To finnd it wor free fra alarms.
I thowt at shood never give ower
Eooath laughin' an' cryin' in turn.
But it cheered me I'arely, I'm sure,
To watch her so feelin'ly yearn.
An' she thenk'd me wi' tears in lier een,
As I stood like a dunce in a schooil ;
It wor t' nicest seet I'd ever seen.
But it made me feel same as a fooil.
I followed 'em homewards just then,
Till I saw t' little darlin' all reet.
Then they started to thenk me again,
So I left 'ein an' wished 'em good neet.
An' I hurried straight back to mi home.
As pleeased an' as praad as a king.
For all mebbe different to some
Mich liker to whimper nor sing.
BEGGAR MAXUSCKIl'TS. /
But t' poor little lass took no harm
For its thrivin' as weel as can be,
An' it alius possesses a charm
At mi uen are oft gladden'd to see.
An' I hope it '11 live in content.
An' keep happy hearted an' true,
For 'twor Providence certainly sent
Salvation to t' bairn an' me too.
Mitti^^scbisin.
(a west YORKSHIRE DIALECT DITTY.)
Mony whimsical mottoes aw've heeard in mi time,
At saands raither natty an' true,
But whether they're oather in reason or rhyme
Aw'm backard at praisin a few.
An' when aw wor nobbut a bit of a lad,
Aw Battled when aw geet a man
Aw wodnt hod aat for owt shady or bad,
As aw want to do reight if aw can.
Chorus.
So alius do reight if yo can,
It pays ev'ry woman an' man ;
Ne'er heed what folks say, it's mich better each day
To alius do reight if yo can.
Ther's a motto aw've heeard allt days o' mi life,
" In Rome do as all Romans do ;"
An' aw think it breeds endless o' fratchin' an' strife,
Deceivin' an' ticein folks too.
For if a chap's honest an' oppen hissel.
An' starts to fall in wi' this plan ;
What's likely to happen ther's noabdy can tell
When he moant do reight if he can.— Chorus.
Agean, ther's another, aw've oft heeard said,
" A Romany once, an' for ever ;"
An' should anyone wi' sicli liuniliug be led,
It never can prosper him — never.
If once yov gone wrong, tiler's no reason to think
Yo cannot get back like a man ;
An' it wodn't be nice for a poor chap to sink,
As wants to do reight if lie can. — Chor-us,
76
BEGGAR MAXUSCRIl'TS.
Aw'l mention one moor, at's weel known to yo all,
" A rowlin' stone gathers no moss ;"
An' this one aw think everybody '11 call
As waik as them tothers, or woss.
Ony shallow-craan knows, if he ligs hissel daan,
He'll never turn aat a rich man ;
For a chap needs to venture sometimes fra a taan,
As wants to do reight if he can. — Chorus.
Aw believe if aw tried, aw could goo on awhile
Explodin' sich owd-fashioned wit ;
For nah-a-daj-s childer can venture to smile,
Baat gaumin such rubbish a bit.
Its just on a par wit' t' owd Latin and Greek,
Of a past but a time-honoured clan ;
But aw'l try not to give ony impident cheek,
For aw want to do reiyht if aw can. — Chorus,
GLOSSARY OF DIALECTISMS
Employed in the Rhymes entitled, "Strayed," and "Witty-schism."
COMPILED BY THt AUTHOR OF THE BOOK.
DIALECT.
Aat ...
Ahaat
An' ...
'At
A 'jean...
Afoor
Aruand
A.rd
Alius ...
Allf
Aw've ...
A iv'iii
Aw
At's
Aw'l
Brcct ...
Bcthowt
Bother ...
Bith
Brokkcn
Bcin'
Bchund ..
Boonth
Bu irn . . .
Backard
Baat
Coicd
Co it
Cupped
Coo/ii
Cloise
Cruddlcd
Chonce
ENGLISH.
Out
About
And
That
Again
Before
... Aroimd
Asked
... Always
All the
... I have
I am
I
That's
... I will
... Briglit
... Bethouulit
...Trouble
By the
. . . Broken
Being
... Behind
Both
... Child
Baclvward
Without
Cold
Coat
Surprised
. . . Came
Near
Snugly placed
Chance
DIALECT.
ENGLISH,
Con.c
. . . Fondle or nurse
Clootis
Clothes
Chap ...
... Fellow
Craad
Crowd
Coined . . .
... Come
Craan
Crown
Childer...
Children
Deead
Dead
Daan
... Down
Eras
Ease
Bit
... Fat
'Em
Them
Een
... Eyes
Fra't
... From the
Finnd . . .
... Find
Erect
Fear or fright
Eon
...Found
Elude
Afraid
Fouided . . .
Folded
Euced
...Met, defied
Era
... From
Eooil
Fool
Erntchin'
Quarrelling
Erectencd
...Frightened
Grund
Ground
Gate
Way, road, passage
Gi'en
Given
Gcet
... Got
Goo...
Go
Gav'
... Gave
Gooin
Going
Gcthers ...
Gathers
Gaumin'
... Noticing
BEGGAR MAXUSCRIPTS.
77
DIALECT.
Hodded
J/aasc
JIcv'
IlednH
Ilauf
He cad
Hed
Haa
J heard
Hod
Hissel
Ho'Hini
ENGLISH.
Held
House
Have
Had ufit
Half
... Head
Had
. . . Ho^v
Heard
... Hold
Himself
Home
I lit'... ... In the
liduV ... ... Into the
Jmpident ... ... Impudent
It, applies to anything helpless or
inanimate.
Knou-ed
Knew
Kusscd ...
Kissed
KuddLed
Squeezed caressingly
Litten'd
. . . Had let, happened
Louped ...
Leaped
Lett ...
Let and light
Lapped . . .
Wrapped
Lat ...
Late
Li<j(jiiC ...
...Lying
Laud
Loud
Lif/s
... Lies
Middlin'
Fairly, just nice
Mebbe
'Maybe
Maase
Mouse
Mi
My
Mlsel...
... Myself
Mony
Many
Mit ...
Might, may
Med
...Made
Moo in
Moon
Mich
Much
Moan't
...Must not
Mooar
...More
Neet ...
Night
Nowt
Nothing
Nohlntt
Only
Noalj'di/ ...
N(jbody
Noan...
None
Nutty
Smart
Nah ...
Now
0' f
Of the
0;iy ...
Any
0' '
... Of
Owd ...
Old
OntiW
On the
Oppcn...
Open
Owt
Ought, anything
Gather
... Kither
Omiiwst
Almost
DIALECT.
PeeaVd
Plceas
liaand...
Raither
Height...
Jioivliu'
Smook...
8h'jp
SeV ...
Sect
Sich ...
Satt/e
Surarnat
Sooin
Saand...
Sous
Surve ...
Spak'
Shoo'd...
Schooil
Slid ...
Some'dy
Thowt ...
Tul-ken
Toit ...
Toddle
Ther ...
'Tworn't
Thers...
Ther
Turds...
Tut'
'Ta-or . . .
Thcnk'd
Threeded
Tothcrs
'Ud ...
Tarry
Wes . . .
War
wr ...
Well
Wieer...
Whoam
Wern't
Waikly
JMiimpcr
Wodti't
Wrrl ...
Waik
llo.s.s ...
117' t'
Wod ...
Yo
Yerd ...
Yer
Yo'vc ...
ENGLISH.
Reared, perched
Please
. . . Round
Rather
... Right
Rowling
... Smoke
Shape
Self
Sight
Such
Settle
Something
...Soon
Sound
... So as, so that
Serve
Spake
She would
School
... Should
Somebody
...Thought
Taken
... Hobby
. . . Steady walk
... There
It was not
... There is
There
. . . Towards
To the
It was
Thanked
Threaded
... The others
... Would
...Very
...We shall
...Was
... With
... Till or while
Where
Home
. . . Was not
Weakly
Cry
Would not
Well
Weak
Worse
With the
... Would
Ye
Heard
Hear
...You have
78 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
m tbe Map.
When j-ou sit at home in comfort, round your hearthstone, snug and warm,
With your dear ones all around yuvi, safely guarded from all harm ;
Do you ever give one moment's thought unto our homeless poor.
Who pass you daily on the street, and starve beside your door.
When'Dame Fortvine smiles upon you, and her favours freely lend,
So that you have not a trouble what to eat, or drink, or sjjend.
Are }^u mindful of the message that the Master left for you,
" To do towards one another as ye would be done unto."
When your children play around you, never wanting for a friend.
And healtli, and strength, and comfort, faiiy-like on each attend.
Are you never once reminded of the wretched waifs and strays
Who never had a parent's love to sanctify their days.
When you feel quite happy-hearted, and a stranger unto woe
When all things seem to prosper you wherever you may go,
Do you think about the saddened ones, the trodden, and downcast.
To whom the game of life beseems a harvest that is past.
Oh ! could we only view ourselves whilst blessings are in store,
Perchance we should aj^preciate and utilise them more.
But duty bids us look around, or whether high or low,
For each according to his lights some sympathy may shew.
H^utsbell pfjilosopbp.
To you I write.
And now indite
Herewith, by way of greeting.
These lines to show
That you may know
in spirit we are meeting.
I need not tell,
I love you well,
Because I never flatter,
But this is true,
'Twixt me and you,
To love is no small matter.
True Friendship may
Have much to say
Without such empty bubble,
And if each one
Let this be done
We should not have niuch trouble.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTt^. 79
Why should we try
To wander by
A plain and frank admission,
Since it is best
To be at rest,
And hold a straight jDosition.
There is no peace
Without we cease
Tins roundabout invention.
And I would scorn
To thus adorn (')
A good and true intention.
So, having said,
And thus far led
Your sympathies apace,
I fain would uKn-e
Beyond this groove.
And state another case.
Suppose some friend
Were now to send
Due token of reg.ard.
Well knowing you
Were well-to-do,
And needed no )u\\ard.
And, if in time
(To make it rhj'me).
Your circumstances failed,
And you had need
Of lielp indeed
As nothing else availed
And should he then
Remind you when
You lacked no f riendh' aid,
And with a frown,
Though you were down.
Of friendship seem afraid.
How would you fare
If he should dare
A traitor thus to turn.
And tell you plain
Your hope was vain,
And all entreaty spurn ?
And, if in trutli.
He should, forsootii.
Insult you, bold as brass,
Would you again
Respect him, then,
Or wliip him, by tl.c mass ?
80 BEGGAR MAXUSCRIPTS.
1 think I know
How you would go
And tan his brazen hide,
For he's a cur
Who would not dare
To spoil a traitor's pride.
Just HO I've seen,
And treated been
By one I once admired
And this I say :
Alack-a-day !
My passion soon he fired.
And here I own
To you alone,
I tendered swift receipt ;
For nought in life
Occasions strife
So much as bold deceit.
The while I prayed
For kinder aid.
Yet this I fain \vould tell :
With wounded heart
I took my part
And punished him right well.
Then quick he fled,
And from me sped.
Ere I my reason lost.
Or he had got
What he did not,
No matter what the cost.
I truly hate
To hear the prate
Of underhanded folk,
For I contend
He is no friend
\\Tio treats it as a joke.
And, if some day
Upon your way,
You come across the kind,
Pray let tliem know
You deem them so,
And thus have easy mind.
The world is small.
But large withal.
For all who love the riglit ;
So try your best
To oust such pest
Away from honest sight.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 81
I would not own,
Or wish it known
That T had two-faced friends ;
For I dfUght
In actiucr right,
And there all friendship ends.
Do all you can
To prove a man,
As on through life you go ;
Avoiding strife
Wherever rife —
Allowing love to flow.
And then, indeed,
You hold a creed
To bear you bravely on.
And he is wise —
Thougli I advise —
Who sees his duty done.
Ibclcne.
(a mesiory.)
It was summer time. The noon-day sun, in bold relief, shed its refulgent rays
o'er the earth ; Nature wore its brightest garb, and the biz'ds oarol'd their sweetest.
The children ran merrily from school, and the busy woild for the time being hurried
to their various homes, and everything seemed glad. Everything, did I say ? Yet
not everything, indeed ; for in her chamber, stretched upon her bed, lay the dying
form of the once so bright and lovely Helene. Nineteen sunmiers had passed over
her head, and just now, when life seemed the brightest, she had to yield to the grim
Conqueror and die. King Death was waiting for his prize ; and though so very
young in life, she was old enough to die. I had known her long and well, for as
children we had romped together. I knew her at s:;hool also, when her smile was the
brightest, ht;r step was tlie lightest, and her form was the fairest of any. Companions
next we l)ecame, ruaming the fields and lanes together ; and at length, to my great
joy, she had placed her heart in my keeping. But now, alas, at this grandly beautiful
noon hour, when all seemed so hajipj' around, she whom I valued more than life itself
was surely passing away, and her flickering spirit battling witli death for the mastery.
What an awful ending to all our aspirations it seemed. Of what avail to us now
was the sunshine f Howcouki I feel any pleasure ? What mattered anything, indeed,
.so long as the light of my life was dying, and nothing luider heaven could save her ?
It had ])leased tlie Alniightj' so to (jrder it, and itiankind could not ch.uige the verdict ;
although it was inexpressil)ly sad thus to have all my liopes and schemes frustrated
and scattered at one blow. I presided my hand to my burning forehead, and gave
vent to the grief that filled my soul. Poor Helene ! loving and clinging to the last,
she could not bear to witness my distress, and feebly she entreated me to " cheer up,
82 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
and promise to meet her in heaven." But I could not answer her, for I only too well
remembered how very small indeed were my hopes of heaven not so very long before,
until her constant jdeadings curbed vay sinful progress. Thoughts of religion I had
banished completely, until she bi'oke the evil spull, and sjjoke to me of repentance.
And tlien I vowed, God helloing me. to try to act rightly ; and she, my beloved,
aided my endeavours. The poor darling richly earned a better fate ; nothing was too
good for her ; loving and beautiful, trusting and trae, no man ever possessed such a
jewel as my Helene, and I had honourablj' striven to deserve her. Of what use to
me was anything now, if my loved one couldn't share it 1 When everything looked
so promising, and a happy future seemed to lie before us, here at one fell stroke our
lives had become desolate, our plans unavailing, and my beautiful love was dying.
And whilst I stood watching her thus — sinking before my very eyes, my thoughts
reverted to the happy time when she was instinct with cheerfulness and hope, and
trouble was a perfect stranger. How different now were the surroundings, indeed !
We had never calculated upon opposition to our happiness in any way, much less to
anticipate cruel death. " Man jDroposes, but God disposes." Although the sun shone
brightly above us, and all around seemed gladness, yet to me it was terribly dark and
oppressive, for the queen of my heart was dying. There may, perhaps, be some stem
beings who could witness such scenes, and bear such sadness, unruffled — there may,
perhaps, be those who are numb and dumb with impressive awe at the approach of
death, but in my inmost heart I bitterly resented it, for, in spite of all our hopes and
desires, my dearest one was doomed. Sinful I know it is to rebel against our Maker's
decree, very wrong it was to harbour such feelings as then possessed me, but in my
wilful selfishness I could not resist railing at her fate. Love such as mine was mad-
ness indeed, and most bitterly did I bewail it ; but notwithstanding the lavishness of
affection displayed she sank gradually away. Ye whose infatuation leads to such
utter foi-getfulness of right and duty as mine, beware indeed that punishment fall not
upon you. " The earth is the Lord's and the fulness thereof ;" and presumption is an
awful crime. It is truly said that " though our way may not be His, yet the Lord
will provide. ' ' And as we stood sorrowfully by her bedside, M'ith a dear friend repeating
the ever sublime Requiem, slowly and sadly, commencing " Rock of Ages," the
torturing chastening to my soul was indescribable. " Helene, my darling," I cried in
my agony, "live for me, love, live for my sake." I had ever been forgetful of the
fact that death is the penalty of sin, and that sooner or later all must pay the
forfeit. Thoughts of death I had shunned as a bore, but now, in the very presence
itself, I prayed with a fervour unceasing that still she might escape it. " Whom the
Lord loveth. He chasteneth." How very hard indeed it was. We were both young,
the pleasures of life seemed so inviting, and we had meant to be so happy. Ah ! well ;
the blight had fallen, and I was indeed awakened. Tearfully I caressed her, lovingly I
held her in my arms, gently she clung to me, and solemnly, slowly, but surely, each
precious moment passed, never, never to return. Thank God, she was ready to die ;
better far than I, she had learned resignation ; confident and expectant of a blessed
resurrection, she waited patiently for the message that bid her to immortal light,
"where sorrows never trouble, and the tired are at rest." It was only, indeed, for my
sake she was anxious, and she whispered me to hope ; but the end had come. Clasping
me fervently unto her, with an effort she pressed her lips to mine ; then, pointing
with her finger upwards as if beckoning me to meet her in the realms beyond, she
lay gently down again, and soon all was still. And then — they told me that she was
— dead. So peaceful, so quietly still she lay, but Death was king at last. I would have
odven anything to have died also, but it was not thus to be ; and the darkest hour of
my existence was when they told me Helene was dead, and I was left alone in the
gloom. And still, the summer sun was shining, the busy noon time had not passed
away, the same work-a-day world was joyous ; Ijut for me, mj' life was dead. Never
again for me will life seem so bi'ight : never whilst I retain memory sliall I forget my
lost one ; never whilst upon earth shall I meet such another. Helene was my
idol, Helene was my all ; but, alas ! Helene is dead. So passeth away earthly hopes
and cdory. We buried her shortly afterwards, and a simple little stone, with the one
brief word " Helene," is all that marks her resting-place. As for me, what matters
now ? any place or every place is alike in the universe ; and so I bid adieu to the
home of my youth, the scene alike of i)leasure and of pain, bound for another shore,
to battle alone in the stomis of life until I meet her in heaven.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 83
H Woman forlorn.
God help a poor wnniau forlorn.
Whose heart is all shatteied and torn,
The world cannot tell, how her bosom does swell,
With grief over-mnch to be borne.
Despairing, dejected, and sad, *
A stranger to all that is glad,
She drags out her life, neither widow nor wife.
Mankind a worse fate never had.
No hope on life's journey has she.
No prospect could drearier he,
Lamenting the cost, of a happiness lost,
O would that such martyrs were free.
We may not and cannot surmise.
How hopeless it is to disguise,
The pangs of each day, as they hasten away,
With grief welling up to her eyes.
Should ever you meet such an one.
Have pity, and harass her none,
Just one simple word, if in sympathy heard.
Is much to a woman forlorn.
lucre's a Ibealtb.
SONfi.
Here's a healtli unto he, that does plough the deep sea.
With a heart that is light as a feather,
Who leaves a fond home, through the wide world to ro.am,
Away from his life's dearest treasure ;
For a brave one is he, although humble he be,
Who so ready proves true to the core,
O'er the ocean to sail, disregarding the gale,
True to Duty and Love evermore.
Here's a health to the tar, on each stout " man-o'-war,"
And our valour who strives to sustain,
Who will stand by his flag, and will die ere a rag.
Any traitorous finger.^ shall stain.
For he faces grim Death, and with latest of breath,
Still he urges his comrades the more,
Yet imdaunted to stand, nor abate one demand,
Until Honour is bright as before.
Here's a health unto sailors, their sweethearts and wives,
May eacli one steer wide of all sorrow,
And may they have happy and ])rosperous lives.
Without any fc;ar for the morrow.
Then away o'er the seas, with the healtli -giving breeze.
Will they speed with each heart brimming o'er,
And will cheerily sing, till the echoes shall ring,
" Here's to Duty and Love evermore,"
84 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
Soliloquy— ©n IRcflection.
What is there indeed in the nature of man,
Tends more to ennoble his fitful life'.« span
Than when in a turmoil of doubt and despair,
He bends to reflect on his burdensome care,
He may be oppressed — or, he may be cast down.
He may have lost heart o'er the giddy world's frown,
He may seem bereft of all comfort and joy.
Yet sober Reflection will drive the alloy.
With the passions at bay, and his manhood at stake,
Reflection will ever true reason awake.
When living seems useless, and all else a ban, -
To every endeavour of unlucky man.
When the gloss has " gone hence,'' and a chaos appears
Inducing repinings, exhaustion, and tears ;
There's a light lies beyond all the darkness and dread,
AVhen his selfish indulgence and bigotry's fled.
Reviewing his case, calm and careful, and plain
He rises refreshed in his manhood again.
For Reflection enables the weakest to cope
AVith ills that disperse with the dawning of hope.
Reflection will ever grant peace to the soid,
Compelling the forces of mischief to roll.
Reflection lifts higher the curtain of hope.
Imparting nev/ strength and enlarging its scope,
It cleanseth the brain from all spurious taint.
Conceiving a wisdom of love and restraint,
It yields to the mind a new impetus bora
Of honest desire from self to be shorn.
Then however you be, or too fast or too slow,
Submit to Reflection the way ye should go.
©ut Millie.
Dear reader, if you are partial to startling romances and adventurous themes, I
can hold out little hope that this humble life story will seriously impress you. It is
not at all sensational I admit, but this much can be said of it, that it is a
faithful record in every particular, and I can heartily recommend it to your sympathy.
The subject of this narrative was one of three children, whose advent to life was under
anything but auspicious circumstances. There are some fortunate people in the world
to whom misery is a stranger in their youth, Ijut " Our Willie," as I shall call him, was
unluckily familiar with it from his youth up. Whilst only a toddling child, and, along
with his brcjther and sister, very poorly attended to in consequence of the quarrelsome
bickering of ill-matched parents, the news was carried home that he who should have
proved their earthly protector, had " joined the Regulars " and enli.sted as a soldier.
(Jndercertain circumstances such a step would have proved a blessing to his poor \vife, as
it would have been the means of ridding her of what proved to be the bane of her life,
h>ut he, lieing the only bread winner, and so cowardly deserting her and the children,
only increased her difficulties, and exposed his own heartlessness. When cruel want
haunts your footsteps, and a thoughtless world derides your efforts ; when undeserved
shame and remorse takes hold of you, and starvinar children are pleading for bread ;
it is then indeed only a short step to despair. And very soon — too soon, alas ! the poor
young mother, with such a fate to battle against, fell into despair ; and by and by,
and ste]) Vjy step, unaided all too ci'uelly by the too stern moralists of that town, she
dj-jfted slowly, but surely, into loose habits and conduct, until getting at length into
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 85
tlie drunken courses which are inseparable from depravity, she became the inmate of
a prison. During her confinement there, her poor children were looked after by one
and another of her kindly neighbours, who had more of charity than justice in
their hearts. Reared as she had been in the habits of comfort and industry, and
feeling bitterly how her sad plight would affect her old parents who were fast
journeying to their last home, who will doubt that those grim walls drove away from
her every vestige of duty and self-respect ? If only a helping hand had been offered
to her when the villainous husliand had deserted her, if only indeed half as much care
was exercised in discovering such cases as hers as is done in detecting crime, how
different it would have been with her, and how much better would it be for civilisation
generally. But it was not so, alas ! and very often indeed in our advanced morality of
modern times, the sin of taking the one and first false step is made the medium
wherewith to wreck and blast the character and career of a whole lifetime. Upon her
release from imprisonment she was changed completely from her old self, and having
become unfortvinately lost to the gentler feelings of her nature, she left the neighbour-
hood to tramp about the country, dragging her children with her, as it were from
" pillar to post. " Ruin is imminent enough in all seriousness when things come to
such a pass, and all too soon she lost herself and became despised of her sex — an
abandoned woman. It is easy enough, God knows, for those who live in comfort and
contentment to express and feel deep aljhorrence at the vagaries of a fallen woman ;
but in very truth we are bound to admit when pressed, that it is anything but easy
for a deserted woman (who is still young, with good looks to recommend her, and who
sees her children starving whilst she herself is penniless) to keep in the paths of
rectitude. If we would be honest as we ought, we must confess that there is so much
sin and mischief inherent in human-kind, that verily the saints of yesterday only prove
the sinners of to-day. We are none of us blameless, however good we try to be ; and
it is a grievous presumption — which is an equal sin with any other — to constitute our-
selves judges over our weak and fallen brethren. I shall not attempt to depict the
character of this wicked life in its glaring hideousness, for unfortunately such instances
are not rare now-a-days. But one result of it was that her children were taken away
from her, and Willie became a pauper before he was six years old ; being destined as
it happened never to look upon his mother's face again. This, I contend, is the
greatest misfortune that can befall a child, for " come weal or come woe," the
tenderness that sanctifies the association, and which occasionally gleams out so
prominently under even the most adverse circumstances, is a possession of itself that
nothing else can ever atone for. It was not a pleasant lot to be a workhouse lad in
Willie's day, and nothing nearly so choice then as it is now, when philanthropists of
every grade vie with each other in striving to make such a lot bearable ; and it is also
true that a poor boy's life was more wretched in proportion than the other inmates,
for what with bullying, cramming, hungering, and flogging, it was then one ceaseless
round of arrant intolerance. Not one gleam of sunshine entered his boyhood, and yet
although of stinted growth and anything but robust, by some subtle elasticity indi-
genous to that period of life, he managed to reach his tenth year as presentably as the
majority of lads around him. There were no pence and pleasant trips for pauper lads
then, everything indeed partook toD much of the doctrine that existence was a bounty ;
and children, in common with older heads, were taught to be humbly thankful for
such a blessing. What a paltry travesty of life does such a doctrine present, when
calmly considered ! one cannot avoid surmising what weight of hypocrisj' underlies it.
It is very certain that this workhouse life was anytliing but a Paradise, for within
there, indeed, more than in any other place perhaps. Bumbledom reigns supreme ;
and man's ingenuity succeeds in initiating a system of in((uisition and torture, com-
parable in its completeness to a fine art. But when Willie had turned his tenth year
he discovered that the real troubles of life were only commencing, for, being then con-
sidered old enough to work for his living, he was hired out, or "parish placed," to a
collier, vvlio re((uired a lad to assist him in the mine. So with his parisii outfit, he was
bundled off to get along as })est he ccnild, once more amongst strangers. There was not,
perhaps, a more harassing life to be found than fell to the lot of a collier's pauper lad,
for they had to work half naked in grimy rags amongst mire and puddle, in a crawling
pf)sition, exposed to many unliealthy, tiresome, and often dangerous conditions : and in
addition were only half feil. Bnitality there had its full bent, and what with the long
hours, the thrashings, and varied accompaiiimentB iucideutal to auch a. dangerous
86 BEGGAR MAXUSCRIPTS.
occupation, it would not be amiss to describe it altogether as diabolical. Whether it
has improved in this year of our Lord, 1887, from what it was in Willie's time, I
cannot say, but this is undeniable, that it cannot be at any time a desirable occupation.
So nuich for life in a deep coal mine. Willie's "master" was a low, viciovis, and
brutal fellow, a veritable Shylock or a Legree in fact ; and it was quickly apparent to
the lad that he had got " out of the frying-pan into the fire;" for if any doubt ever
existed upon that point, the frequent beatings and bullying treatment he
received soon dispelled it. There are colliers, I dare say, who are as manly and tnie
as any gentleman can be, but in perpetration of rank mischievous conduct, and more
especially in the past, the dare-devil collier " carries the palm." Before a few years
had passed over, Willie's body was " black and blue " with scars and disfigurements,
caused by accidents or design ; and to make his bitterness complete he had not one
good friend in all the world. Kindness he never experienced, and had it been possible
for his poor lost mother to have seen him in his sixteenth year or so, she would have
gone crazed, such an object had his weary life made him. Stunted, deformed, and
rugged, he presented little appearance to a creature in the image of God. Poor
Willie ; how many to-day there are in as pitiful circumstances, God alone knows. If
only men and women would think a moment, how thankful they would be in having
such refuges as our Ragged Schools, and Homes for the neglected and homeless waifs
of society. There is not, and cannot be, a more practical and elevated form of
Christianity in the whole known world of schemes for man's salvation, than is found
in this glorious work of rescuing, housing, and training the helpless crowd of long
suffering and puny mankind. Who indeed can say how vast a work is theirs ? and
what devil's mischief they curtail. May we then not bestir ourselves more in this
noble direction? Does it not in truth behove each of us to warm to the work, whether
gentle or simple ? I feel sometimes that it is almost a work of martyrdom for the
very few, who so perseveringly, in spite of many reverses, have yet the Divine love so
implanted within them that they will not yield in their enterprise. Reader, do what
you can, however little, to help such good work, and who knows, maybe more than one,
as desolate as " our Willie," may through your means live to return benefit and
blessing to his fellow-men. At eighteen, Willie received a visit from no less a per-
sonage than his father, who, having left the army, had taken it into his head to look
up his son, and see what he was like. There was no affection prompted the visit,
nothing but heartless and idle curiosity merely to satisfy himself of the identity ; and
no sooner did he behold the miserable form, than he departed with as much speed as
he could respectably muster. Had Willie been a fine, muscular, well-developed and
manly figure, he would doubtless have "done something," for him, but his aj^pearance
horrified him. Oh, wliat a buraing shame to betray such an unnatural disposition as
that, a father indeed, whose heart should have brimmed over with affectionate yearning
for the poor unlucky lad, scanning him as though he was a brute, and as coolly as if
he was not himself responsible to Heaven for his desolation. Ye who understand the
pitiful, wordless, pleading of children, think how much that lad would suffer, then, and
afterwards, at his father's loathing and cold neglect. Would he not, think you,
youth though he was, and distorted ever so badly, yearn and rei^ine for one word of
love ? God grant that when that father reaches the judgment seat lie may receive
different treatment ! Friend, whoever you may be, I ask you was that not enough to
finish any lad, with one spark of natuial craving in him ? ^Vnd I can assure you, that
so truly as night follows day, so surely it broke Willie's hea-rt. It is not an idle or
meaningless story I am relating, it is every word as true as Gospel, and not long
afterwards he was found a stiffened corpse— cold and dead — upon his rude couch.
Better far indeed was it to leave such a cruel world, for if ever a lad's history
revealed a tale of horror, most certainly it was his. Poor Willie ; neglected, despised,
and maltreated, from his cradle right to the grave, a home at last lie would find in
Heaven. Fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers, if ye are blessed with a loving and
happy home circle, do not disdain to shed a tear for Willie ; and when your family is
safely in the fold, pray God that none of them experience his fate. He was only a
pauper it is true, he was only an unfortunate waif, we know, but in the sight of Him
who rules the lieavens and the earth he was as precious as any in the universe
Bitter, hard, cruel, and undeserved as was his brief life liere, yet at the great Atone
7/icnt there cannot possibly be a brighter sphere of glory, than will prove to exemplify
the Saviour's love for " our Willie."
BEGGAR MANUSCRirTS. 87
IRecitative Commemorative.
Since Avon gained, throngh Avon's bard,
Her grand historic fame.
The world of letters well regard,
The Grand Preceptor's name ;
Not all the wealth of history.
Or chronicles sublime.
Reveal a name more famous,
Or an Oi-acle so prime.
And well it is that fertile mind
Can estimate such worth,
Since none more gifted or refin'd
Has sprung from Mother Earth ;
It needs no zealous phantasy
To prove his teachings true,
Morality has ever been
The dowry of the few.
Then banish every mean excuse,
And hasten due regard,
Away at once with vile abuse —
Where merit wins re^^•ard ;
Discuss him when and how you will,
And ponder him well o'er.
An honest verdict proves him still,
As peerless as before.
In homage to his high estate,
I proffer true report,
And with all votaries will pay
A due and proper court ;
So Literate a company.
Full mindful of his fame,
In evergreen festivity
Perpetuate his name.
So, Sliakespeare ! still, wc bow to thee,
For precepts like to thine
Shall rule the world in destiny —
The human heart refine ;
Thy native worth, thy native shore
Shall publish o'er and o'er.
And l''ather Time shall manifest
Thy virtues evermore.
'Tis thus in Harmony we meet,
Thy Natal day to hold,
Commemorative of a mind
Brimful of letter'd gold ;
Respectfully before thy shrine
Unprejudiced and free.
We yield the honours truly thine
And tender them to thee.
88 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
Ube Zm of Mar.
The Scene was in a canvas tent, with himb'rous vans around — •
The cabin VI homes of quadrupeds in distant countries found ;
Ferocious ones, and tame ones too, were held in bondage there,
Divided from the people with tlie greatest skill and care.
The day was done, and flaring lights were hung around the place ;
The Exhibition had begun, and anxiotis seemed each face.
The people stood in groups intent, on Massarti's display.
To prove the iron will of man above the beasts of prey.
This Massarti the Tamer was intrepid, cool, and calm ;
Possessed of matchless courage, though alas ! he'd but one arm.
A sword hung ready by his side, against the time of need.
For well he knew he had to deal \\ith savage beasts indeed.
Then, marching to the lion's den, at once he entered in,
And hounded them till nmight was heard, except their horrid din ;
He made them march, and crouch, and leap, before he turned away,
As they retreated panting and excited from the fray.
No sooner had he turned his back, than, with a hideous yell,
The boldest sprang ui^on him, and upon his knees he fell,
Bnt swiftly by manceuvring h<5 deftly burst away.
And, sword in hand, did face them, like a warrior at bay.
The maddened brute did loudly growl, then sprang at him again ;
He tried his best to frighten her, but tried his best in vain ;
He slashed about him with his steel in tliat unequal strife,
For while she fought for mastery, Massarti fought for life.
A panic then amongst the crowd of gazers did ensue.
Each recognised liis danger, yet knew nothing what to do ;
'Midst screams of terrified dismay, and many a cry of pain.
The vicious beasts did seize him, and entrap him once again.
Full resolute with every stroke, he dealt a horrid gash.
And, nimbly holding on his feet, at them full tilt did dash
They danc'd and howled in agony, retreating as before.
Whilst he beheld advantage, and essay'd to gain the door.
No f[uicker than he reached it, than with fierce and a^vful yell
Again they dashed upon him, and alas ! again he fell.
They carried him across the den, and bruised his body sore,
Until, with giant's effort, he enfreed himself once more.
Than slash at them, witli might and main, he fought in dread despair,
P^xclaiming loudly for some help, but little lielp was there ;
The people were dumbfounded, and seemed rooted to the spot,
The while his life blood oozed away — a sad, ignoble lot.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 89
Feebler then his blows did fall, and feebler still he grew :
His strength well nigh exhausted, yet no one knew what to do.
A strong- partition then was found, to thrust inside the bars,
To part him from the lordly brutes, and foil them unawares.
Awhile enfeebled he held on, till lie could hold no more.
Then, bleeding and unconscious, he fell down upon the floor ;
The barricade was jamm'd within, but hope for him had tied,
The Lion Tamer was no naore — bold Massarti was dead.
System.
System rules the universe. It is the clockwork of time, the finger of health, and
the soul of existence. To be without a system is to be without a head, and they
without system have no guide. A system in life, or a system in business, is the surest
means to success, for men without system cannot succeed. A system in goverame'nt
and a system in religion is absolutely necessary for advancement. No confusion exists
in system, but without system confusion always. Cultivate then a daily system, a
regular system, and a life system, but pray j'ou let it be a system for good. No order
exists without system, and method is the attendant upon order. Be guarded in
speech, be upright in your dealings, be merciful and true. Be patient and plodding,
be tender and kind. The world may move slowly and fortune may lag, but all comes
right to him who waits. Contentment is great gain, and duty lies next to us. What-
ever of good thou canst find to do, do it with thy might. Do all things in reason,
and do all things well. Cleanliness is essential to reason, and reason essential to
system. Be honest and be true, then you have a system that will honour you in life,
and bless you in eternity. Hold fast to that system.
H Som of ^Emotion.
(illustrating the grievous condition of very many of our "unemployed.")
I will sing you a song of a heartfelt emotion,
And strive to enlist your pitying grace,
Since pity expresses the ti'uest devotion,
A suppliant I will unburden my case ;
Alone on tiie lioartli I unceasingly ponder,
Wherever, indeed, shall I light upon aid,
If in truth it will be " the big house " over yonder.
Alas ! that it may, I am sadly afraid.
Ah, well ; should it be that nought else sliould befall me.
But the grim workliouse door prove my ultimate fate,
I'll hie me and hide with dull grief tc appal me.
And wait for the next and a liappier state ;
Cruel hunger and want here triuinph around us,
And jeeringly mock our reputable pride,
To be lacking a crust and the money to buy one,
Is bearding a death which is galling to bide.
90 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
The cup of misfortune is now brimming over,
And dear ones perforce are bedabbled with me,
The once-a-day happy and light-hearted lover.
Stands now as forlorn as a body could be ;
The weary worn face of the poor wife and mother,
Still trustfully beams at my immobile mien.
In vain though I try every feeling to smother.
My heart she discerns when my eyes she has seen.
Oh, God ; can it be that dread poverty's victims,
Must ever be dragged to the verge of despair.
Shall innocent dears in a vortex of madness,
Sink thoroughly broken with anguish and care ?
Where, where, is the vaunted good Christian feeling,
From pulpits proclaimed and well published around,
One true human heart deserves better of Heaven,
Than all the stern moralists ever was found.
Then welcome, thrice welcome, the love of the lowly,
With sympathy true and with warm grasping hand,
Por they of a truth are most earnest and holy.
Though wretched they lie and benighted they stand,
The scum and the refuse of civilisation
Can never be termed our vast " uneiiiployed,"
For these are possessed of pr.aiseworthy ambition,
Which cuts to the quick when all hope is destroyed.
Where is the good of disclosing my story,
Since little indeed the harsh world would believe,
Not even though aged, and feeble, and hoary,
I could not convince whilst so many deceive ;
Nor ragged, nor blind, nor yet begging or croaking.
No sycophant ever, or hypocrite I,
'Twould be too good a theme for the fun and the joking,
To crave the relief they would smoothly deny.
What careth the world for an unit so humble,
Wliat matters indeed any quantity such,
When I and my kin from the earth have departed.
Though no one will gain, tliere will none lose so much ;
To have and to hold seems the standard of honoui,
To need and to starve is the ojjposite code.
To scheme for success and then hold fast ujjon her,
Are maxims renowned in the world's royal road.
'Tis useless ; I cannot — nor would I endeavour,
To win at such cost although easily got,
So I languish away and most likely will never,
Recover from this my unfortunate lot ;
But I hope — -yes, I hope — when the warfare is over.
That those left behind may liave fortune in store,
For long with reverses have I Ijeen a rover,
And I shall have rest when the struggle is o'er,
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 91
Z\K imoth of H)nnk,
A TEMPEKANCE RECITATION.
The kind of work that drink can do
(As brevity's the soul of wit)
C^uite briefly I'll portray to you
The dread results that come of it.
It does its work extremely well
At every opportunity,
And cultivates a track to hell
By snaring the community.
Its tempts the innocent and young
With blandishments quite various,
And garnished with a jovial song
It renders them contrarious.
It rouses mischief and dismay
With flattery and babble ;
It overcometh reason's sway,
And fascinates the rabble.
It makes a man forget himself,
And those unto him nearest ;
It steals his hardly-earned pelf,
And love from friends the dearest.
It robs the infant of its milk,
By making mothers careless ;
It turns its vendors out in silk
And drunken folks delirious.
Creating wife or mother soon
Despondent, sad, and weary ;
It makes a thinker a buffoon.
And turns bright prospects dreary.
It makes the young and tender child
To want and ci'ave provision ;
It renders peaceful peojjle wild,
And kills good aduionition.
It makes a honest man a rogue,
And causes rogues to flourish ;
It brings a many things in vogue
Ui^rightness cannot nourish.
It changes man into a brute,
And makes a woman shameless ;
It covers botli with ill repute.
And renders reason aimless.
92 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
It fills o\ir workhouses and jails
And thrusts folks into prison,
Conipellini^r bitter tears and wails
When mischief has arisen.
It robs the people of good health,
Disgracing every histoiy ;
It gloats o'er poverty and wealtli,
And causes endless misery.
It robs a man of worldly store
And swallows all his riches ;
It strips his coat, and — what is more-
His very shirt and breeches.
It flatters virtue same as vice,
And lures with enchantment ;
It pictures even devils nice,
In breeding discontentment.
It robs a man of homely joy,
• His comfort and contentment,
And damages his girl or boy
With scorn or mean resentment.
It ruins everything in life.
And steals the senses given ;
It causes misery and strife,
And robs a man of Heaven.
It turns the man into a fool.
And makes the fool despise him ;
It blots away each golden rule,
And very oft belies him.
It greedily devours his meat.
And craves for every earning ;
It casts him homeless in the street,
And mocks his every turning.
It fills each dirty street and slum,
Or filthy habitation.
With victims sick at heart, or glum.
Through cursed ruination.
It humbles men and trifles all,
That righteous men hold dear ;
It binds its victims with a thrall
Of recklessness and fear.
It values nought and knows no care
'Tis Satan's direst curse.
Creating only black despair ;
No torture can be worse.
BEGGAR MANUSCRII'TS. 93
2)oin' mxccl
A MIXED DIALECT DITTY.
I'm sitting at whoinm in mi chair,
Withaat an odd penny on earth,
Yet free fro' ill-nature an' care,
Enjoyin' mi quantum o' mirth.
We've spent every copper we had,
In buyin' sich things as we could ;
I think at we've noan done so bad.
But, could we do better, we would.
Some folks as I know, poo a face,
.1 ust 'cause they nioan't hev all they want,
But I'm varry content in my place.
Although what we hev's nobbut scant.
What fooils is some fellows, for sure.
To mope, an' to bother, an' fret ;
Yo' never know'd anyone poor
As ever improved wi' it yet.
We've getten some pratoes an' fiaar
An' a fine pair o' kippers as weel
A drenchin' an' all, in a shaar,
'At's gone throo' mi clooas, I feel.
We've getten a good haif-a-paand
Of butter, besides a ham shank
Wi' a good bit o' nieit all araand.
But t' shopman for that I've to thank.
We've bowt some nice pot-herbs up yon',
Some turmits an' carrots an' all ;
Wes' hev' some good broth, I'll be bon',
Soas who ever happens to call.
Ther's some drippin', an onions, too.
Some meil, an' some sugar, an' tay ;
Wes' manage for one day or two,
Befoor it's all shifted away.
We've a pint o' new milk every morn,
For t' babby, an' Jack's porritch too.
Some fellies their noses ujitorn.
As nothin' no better can do
I managed to buy haif-an-aanee
O' bacca, to keep me i' toit,
So I oatlier can use it, or baance
I hev it at hand iii mi coit.
94 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
A chap 'at's content \vi' his lot
Is t' happiest man nnder t' sun,
An' should yo' believe it or not,
He'll sing when them tothers hes done.
'o
A bowl o' meil jJorritch is reight,
When t' ap])etite's sharpened wi' want ;
It 'ud set mony invalids straight
To bid a fareweel unto cant.
A boil, or a roast, or a fry,
I can order an' hev in a trice ;
Ther's lots as is woss off nor I,
For ony o' t' three's varry nice.
But I hevn't a penny in t' haase,
For all I can jabl^er an' sing ;
I couldn't sit here like a maase.
While feelin' at heart like a king.
Disappointments.
Sad things are disappointments. Broken hopes, futile wishes, and blank desires,
these are all disappointments. It is very hard to see one's aims and hopes all
shattered and dispelled, but we cannot prevent disappointments. Life is fitful, and
disappointments will ensue. We need not break down under them, let us bear them
manfully, and reflect that very often they are of our own shaping. Death we cannot
avoid, but much of misery, sorrow, and sickness we may. Don't fret too sadly, for it
only increases trouble. Be mindful of one another, cheer the disappointed ones, but
avoid aggravation. Be steady and prudent, be careful and sober, and you ^vill greatly
lessen disappointments. Don't be cast down by a disappointment, still look
onward and strive again. God is the arbiter of our destiny, and we cannot dispute
His will. Love God, and when trouble comes, He will help you to bear it. Cultivate
a forgiving spirit, and love your fellows. Do not faint, or frown, for that is a hindrance ;
and experience proves that in the long run, such a disposition is fruitful of dis-
appointments.
'C^urnino XTeetotal.
One day as I rambled the streets up and down,
Undecided whatever to do,
I met with a friend from a neighbouring town,
Who invited me with him to go.
Said he : " My old friend, I'm delighted we've met,
" For an hour together we'll pass.
"With pleasure," said I, "and, dull care to forget,
"We will go and indulge in a glass."
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 95
So in the next tavern we stepp'd ami in arm,
And seated ourselves near the bar ;
Then ordered a liquor quite pungent and warm,
As liquors, you know, often are.
We tried to be nierr}'', the truth to confess,
And chatted along with the rest.
But of pleasure, I vouch, we never had less ;
'Twas making-believe at the best.
We scarcely could hear what each one had to say,
Such a hul^bub and noise tiiey did make ;
The harmony cei'tain hail wafted away,
And our heads with the worry did ache.
The whole con\'ersation was meaningless too.
Though joined in by both old and young ;
The gossiping tattle could never be true.
Whilst the songs "^vere unfeelingly sung.
So we quickly arose, and went out from behind,
Confessing ourselves much the worse ;
For we'd fondly imagined a comfort to find,
Instead of the very reverse.
So we walked up the street, and we noticed instead
Just straight, as it seemed in our face,
A grand Coffee Palace did rear up its head —
A rich and a beautiful place.
My friend, very soon, with a look full of joy,
Pass'd himself through the half-open door,
And, drawing me after, said he, " My dear b-jj^.
There's nothing can beat this, for sure."
'Twas so of a truth, ; a quite elegant place,
With cleanliness everywhere ;
And people admired every comfort and grace,
Partaking the while of the fare.
The waiters were smarter and nicer )iy far
Than what is the usual run ;
So obliging and willing thoy served at the bar,
My friend would have flattcr'd each one.
The food, too, they sold, was substantial and ciioap,
No l)ett()r could anyone Ijuy,
And of dainties )>esides I beheld such a licap,
I felt I iiuist give them a try.
There was Cocoa and Coffee, besides Milk aiid Tea,
•Just to suit any customer's taste ;
No danger, we felt, b it that all would agret
Avoiding all riot and waste.
96 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
And then, after meals, you could study the NeM's,
For I read half an hour or more ;
And in vaiious way.s we ourselves did amuse,
And I never felt better before.
There were various games, and a chance for a i:iipe,
If anyone wished for a smoke ;
Convenient rooms for a wash and a wipe,
With comforts for all kinds of folk.
So when I reached home I explained to my wife
Each place I had seen up and down ;
She vowed and declared for the rest of her life.
She'd go there herself when in town.
Blacl^burn's Greetino to 'G;.lR.f3. tbe prince an^ princess
ot Males,
ON THE OCCASION OF H.R.H. THE PRINCE OF WALES LAYING THE FOUNDATION STONE
OF A TECHNICAL SCHOOL, AT BLAKEY MOOR, MAY 9tH, 1888.
Welcome, Albert Edward, Britain's heir, and Prince of Wales,
Welcome, doubly welcome, where true Loyalty prevails.
Here we gladly meet thee, as befits thy Royal part.
And Blackburn's cliildren greet thee with affection in each heart.
Welcome, Alexandra, unto Blackburn's busy scene,
Welcome, dearest Princess, of true womanhood a (^ueen, .
Welcome to each heart and home, a lusti'e there to shed,
Welcome to the homage that by Love is only led.
Welcome, Prince and Princess, for your happiness we pray.
And hope your Silver Wedding may beam Golden from to-day,
We offer you true feeling, and we tender you good clieer.
And trust we'll long remember this glad auspicious year.
Then hail ye and (lod speed ye, in your noble task this day,
A nation needs must prosper that is led in such a way.
In Blackburn's name, for Blackburn's fame, we greet you with delight,
And tens of thousands tongues will sing your praises ever bright.
N.B. — Their Royal Highnesses were gracious enou^'h to accept a couple of copies from the
author, -Mid also dci)utcd Sir F. KnoUys to lender liim their tlianks for the same, which he
was iiouourei by receiving, by letter, ou the 17th inst. following.
BEGGAR MANUSCRirTS. 97
Whether the subject of this sketch had ever any home at all, or wherever such a
home was situated if he had one, is entirely beyond my knowledge ; but after having
known him well for many years, off and on, as the saying is, I can state emphatically
that he never owned one to my recollection. From the first moment of our
acquaintance I was most strongly impressed with his manner, which, judging from his
rough exterior might reasonably have been expected to be rude and uncouth, but
which to my agreeable surprise was gentleness itself. Hugh, or Hughey, as we
familiarly termed him, was a poor and destitute street arab, who lived solely by his
wits or his luck, when nothing more definite availed. If work could be had he never
shirked it that I am aware of, but at once applied himself willingly and diligently unto it,
no matter of whatever kind it chanced to be. And varieJ indeed were the tasks he
undertook, anything from going upon an errand to labouring and living by tlie sweat
of his brow. Kind and quiet, civil and obliging always, it was a revelation to me to
witness such characteristics under oftentimes the most adverse circumstances. Of
brute strength he possessed a good share, although I never once saw him in a fighting
mood, nor even thorougiily defiant ; and yet he was a grand tellow, well built, healthy
and muscular, but simple withal. It is a common but unworthy characteristic of the
world generally, that a penalty must follow simplicity, however and wherever found ;
a'id whenever the slightest indication of natural failing, or brain weakness is visible,
then and there is a tax imposed as a matter of course. This is a most cowardly trait
in the innuan character, to say the least of it ; and like many another poor creature,
Hughty was a continual victim thereto. Not being as exactly acute in his perceptive
faculties as other men, but being always submissive and deferential to sui^erior in-
telligence, he has often been an easy prey to the cheater, and has perfoimed many a
hard day's work only to be swindled out of his wages at the close. On such occasions
he was rendered almost beyond the power of speech and expression, by what to his
view was the enormity of the meanness ; and yet whilst possessing abundance of
strength for the purjmses of successful retaliation upon the rascals, he has been im-
pelled to seek sympathy from myself by the mere narration, and ultimately to surmount
his misfortune in tearful ejaculations. He was troubled only little by either sentiment
or prejudice, and so was never long despondent. If t[uestioned concerning his
parentage lie would at once explain that he knew little about it, and that his ideas
were developed in a "free nchoul " until his thirteenth year, from which time he had
to face the world on his own behalf. Then his pilgrimage began ; and in iiis buffetings
aViout he wandered from town to town, and place to place, until by the time he
arrived at man's estate, he was tolerably familiar -with most of the highways in the
country — and thoroughly conversant with a vagrant's life. To beg he was not
ashamed, but was at all times as willing to give as to receive charity, and begging was
his last resort. Portering, carrying, and jobbing about, he was only too glad to be of
use in either direction, and if by chance his employer was a friendly one, he would
serve him as faithfully as a watch dog. I have known him in my illnesses to .serve me
without any recompense, and though at such times of a most irritable disposition, he
has cheerfully and meekly put up with it all. In fact, he would consider me upon
such occasions as entitled to growl at him, and so perverse is human nature, I have
actually growled at such forbearance, and behaved rudely enough, in consecpience. But
no one could appreciate him better, and the poor fellow knew after all that I did not
really wish to be unkind, and I always regretted such indiscretions. A real kindness
occupied his memory always, and his childish mode of recognising the same was
peculiarly modest and affecting ; but familiarity he despised. A word, or even a look,
was sufficient at any time to quell the ardour of his attachment, and he was mightily
jealous f)n occasion in maintaining a due apjjreciation of his dignity as a per.sonal
fiiend. He had his faults and hjibles, of course, but, as he often expressed himself,
" A principled man 1 like," and so far as in him lay, lie honestly strove at imitation.
Perhaps his chief ambition was to possess a watch and chain, and it was somethiu"- to
remember when fortune so favoured hun, and he ushered himself into our presence
the proud possessor of a cheap timepiece, which was safely secured to a gaudy brass
appendage which swung prominently across his vest. There could not lie any two
opinions then as to Hughey 's dignity and manifest importance, and with something
like a decent suit upon liis person to comj)letc the rig-out, I verily believe that he
98 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
fancied himself a highly placed personage indeed ; and he fairly endeavoured to
maintain the position. Tliis, however, was beyond his power to do, and consequently
the watcli, &c., were often entrusted to the custody of a pawidiroker for the means of
livelihood. It was a great fall for Hughey whenever that exigency arrived, and it
seemed as though all his importance vanished with the watch, never to return in any-
thing like the same measure without it. It could not be the watch, and it was not
wholly the man, but the two together completed a personalty at once ludicrous, and
decidedlj' original. It wr,s plainly evident whenever he shared our rambles under
such circumstances, that his was tlie patronage bestowed ; and because we understood
the poor fellow, we heartily ayipreciated his goodness, and permitted him the pleasure
of observing it. Many people there are who will deem us faulty in our likes and dis-
likes, but even so we prefer simplicity at all times to false upstart arrogance. Nay, I
am very often dubbed simple myself, but as the poor children of lost humanity are
always with us, it is a pleasure no less than a duty to mingle sometimes amongst
them, to promote harmony and contentment in their station, and persuade them into
loftier paths. If by so doing I become dearer to their hearts and clearer to their
understanding, then to remain simple will I be happy indeed. It is barely possible
for the firmest of the poor to get out of the rut, hemm'd around as they are with so
much that is depressing, demoralising, and objectionable ; and yet the very imhappiest
and lowliest of them all may not unprofitably claim our kind attention. The shifts to
which they are driven by the sheer force of circumstances are strangely varied indeed,
and Hughey could relate his expeiiences as to sleeping in various fashions, in different
haunts, on beds, hammocks, boards, hearths, barns, hay or straw shake-downs, and
sometimes under hedges, or in the open fields. Snow clearing in winter, coal storing
as occasion offeis, and handbill distributing when obtainable ; together \vith harvesting,
hop picking, and odd jobs at farm labouring, are only some of the methods employed
by such as Hughey, ^\•here^\■ith to earn the necessary requisites to keep body and soul
together. Thus the aid of such " (ui/o^-iioio^es " is necessary for the develoimient of
progress and civilisation, and scouted although they ignorantly are, it cannot be denied
that they prove as useful in their sphere (if not more so) than the better dressed
loungers who frequent the places of public resort in our towns and cities. It is all
very well to talk of dirt and depravity, and to stand aghast in pious horror at the
shortcomings of our very poor ; it is high and fine to advocate prosecution for charity
seeking ; b.ut for every one bad character who is laid hold of, there are nineteen
destitute and deserving people who receive the punishment designed for him. What
should a poor man do who rises penniless and hungry in a strange house, in a strange
neighbourhood ? He must not starve. Let him only do as Hughey has been com-
pelled to do, when necessity taught the way, simply to walk down the centre of a
respectable street, chanting in as musical a fashion as he can command, some tune
or hymn, evolved from loving memories of the dim past, and which performance is
intended to provoke symptoms of Christian charity. For this even is a man sent to
gaol, often by a minister of the gospel indeed, and a life's prospects, hopes, desires, or
ambition, as the case may be, is blotted out for ever, and he becomes a criminal. Ah,
well ; let us hope for better things to come, for better hearts, for purer minds, and for
cleaner consciences. What Hughey will come to I cannot say, but the odds are
greatly in favour of this, that a miserable life ends with a miserable death. He is
still livinf, sitting even in my presence whilst I pen this, a strong, robust, and not ill
looking young man of about 24, and were I a man of means he sh add never with my
consent leave my service. But such is life ; and poor Hughey, gladdened as he is by
having seen me once more, must perforce travel on from face to face, and place to
place, until time and fate bring us again together. I can well imagine as his
wanderings lead him, after a few year's absence, back into our neighbourhood, how he
yearns for another meeting, wondering as to my fate ; and when Providence guides
him at length to our door, and his familiar features come into view, his glistening eyes,
his kindling smile, his glad greeting, and his hearty hand clasp, are only in truth a faith-
ful reflex of my own emotion at seeing him once more. Poor fellow ! knowing as I do his
trusting and ingenuou-s nature, I often pray that he may escape in some degree the
harassingaccompanimentsandperils inseparable from the condition of a forlorn and friend-
less waif. The privations endured, the exposure to inclement weather, and the want of
g(X)d nourishment, cannot fail in the course of time in undermining the constitution ;
and the number must be very small, indeed, who wilfully and permanently commit
BEGGAR MAXUSCRIPTS. 99
themselves to such undesirable and bitter fare. Hughey is only one of the vast army
of our willing unemployed, and with such as would willingly work if they could, the
bitterness of the position nnist be acute, for poverty compels them to lie
associates with the veriost scum. However, it is a pleasure to see our poor friend in
any guise, and it often happens that when he arrives his wardi'obe is as weatherbeaten
as his countenance, and experience has taught us to be ready for the occasion. His
visits are prolonged at our wish to htjliday duration, and no matter how dilapidated
and tattered he appears, he is generally re-rigged before his departure. He knows
and feels that with us he is right, and our humble cot is made his harbour for rejiairs ;
and if our store of cast-off raiment be not always fasliionable, he knows there will be
sufficient wherewithal again to face the world. There are, alas, too many Hugheys
in this world of ours, and every reader of this short sketch may without difficulty grant
to some one of them, his or her friendship, and thereby illustrate fully their service
to that Master, who of His great love declared that, " Inasmuch as ye have done
it luito one of these My children, ye have done it also unto Me."
Hn ©pen ir^cart.
Some people think a mans a fool
Who shows an open heart.
As though it were the better rule
To act a double part ;
Yet I love best to see a man
Display a nature kind.
For he, above the others, can
A useful purpose find.
You need not whisper unto me
His failings, not a few,
It is enough for him to be
A man both good and true ;
Amidst a horde of reprobates
A man soon loses fame,
E'en though his usefulness creates
A blest and honoured name.
Then, heedless of the Cjniic's frown.
Live out your useful life,
Unselfishness begets renown
For good amidst the strife.
The brighter looks, and liiighter liearts,
Tliat follow in your train,
A tlious.uid times tii(; bliss imparts,
That e'er attends tlic vain.
100 BEGGAR MANUSCRirTS.
Slow auD Sure.
A simple country couple journeyed once to London town,
Witli cash enough to live upon, whilst strolling up and down ;
They had not spent a single day from home since they were wed.
And both of them agreed 'twas time by pleasure they were led.
So, lover-like — in rustic style — they wander'd arm-in-arm,
While ev'ry little thing they saw possessed a novel charm ;
He murmured, "Lawks-a-daisy me;" while slie exclaimed, "Oh, my !"
And both of them did thus maintain a constant parrot-cry.
The swain had donn'd his swallow-tail — a garment he did prize —
A relic of his grandad's days, and priceless in his eyes :
Its colour was of faded green, with buttons made of brass,
And just the coat to take the eye of rustic lad and lass.
His breeches were of corduroy ; his vest was made of plush ;
Vor fashion he had ne'er a thought, nor cared a single rush ;
A jaunty billycock hat he wore, with half-a-foot of rim.
And a gorgeous crimson necktie, which accorded with his whim.
His pretty partner was array'd in quite a taking way.
For flounces and for ribbons she was Belle of all that day ;
Her rosy cheeks and coal-black eyes made everybody stare,
But all agreed that he and she were quite a Model pair.
He swagger'd with his walking-stick, and she with parasol ;
Mo other couple there could match with country Job and Sal ;
Contented with simplicity, and seeking no renown.
They envied none with whom they met in famous London to\vn.
They were but young in years, and had nothing to deplore.
Their wedded life was happy, and they sought for nothing more,
Their income was sufficient to supply their every care.
And most o' folk were glad to know the hapj^y country pair.
In dress and manners each did try the other one to please.
For marriage was but courtship still, with ownership and ease ;
Obliging and good-tempered, each endeavoured to appear.
And Love maintained supremacy within their humble sphere.
And so this homely country pair were innocent of shame.
And home to them was just a home — deserving of the name ;
They sang away their little cares, and kissed away each frown.
And Job and Sal, though simple folk, were higher up than down.
And as they wandered through the streets, surveying all around,
The idlers tried in vain to guess what errand they were bound ;
And whilst the Cockneys laughed in fun, our rustic pair did smile,
But never dreamt their style of dress was curious the while.
To Crystal Palace first they went, its famous sights to view.
And many wond'rous things they saw — surprises old and new—
But what the most astounded them about the Sculpture there,
Was, that the want of modesty caused everyone to stare.
BBSGAR MANUSCmrTS. 101
It was not shame, since virtuous minds might truly wonder why
Such insults unto decency were bare to every eye,
For every eye ought not to see designs that may unnerve.
Lest they who falter by design, from innocence may swerve.
To Baker Street they ventured next, the Waxwork Show to view.
And gaze upon the novelties, as country people do ;
But Job no sooner got inside, than he was shaking hands
With the smiling Chinaman in wax, that by the doorway stands.
Then both of them did loudly laugh, that thus he was deceived.
For Job declared quite earnestly, 'twa=i human, he believed ;
They promenaded round the room, and noticed all within,
Attracting the attendants by their rustic style and din.
Into a handsome Music Hall they next did wend their way.
And listened to a song or two, and heard the music ])lay.
But when the Ballet dancers came, they caused the pair to blush.
So, running to the doorway, they into the street did rush.
The Theatre, likewise they found, was anything but pure,
And fast yoinig libertines tried hard to stare them out for sure ;
In very shame they blush'd to think they patronised such sights,
For everywhere it was the same, and wrongs were turned to rights.
Upon the Stage the Drama played was of triumphant wrong,
And words of double meaning were in every toast and song,
A brazen tone was all the rage, which caused them great surprise.
And Virtue there was bought and sold, before their very eyes.
All joy was gone ; and their sole wish, was quickly to reach home,
And both declared that when they did, again they would not roam.
They had started out for pleasure, but they found much more of sin,
Effrontery upon the streets, and shame and vice within.
So Job unto his wife did say, " When I get home again,
" I'll rest myself contented, lass " ; and she replied " Anicn,"
"To think," said he, " we dressed so gay to travel here and back,
" If we're obliged to come again, we'll dress ourselves in black."
And so between them they were glad, to start the journey home,
Determined ne'er to London town, in future would they come ;
The sights— so called— had sicken'd them, though both escaped tlie ban,
So he kissed her, and she kissed him, a good, time-honoured plan.
On reaching home they clianged their clothes, and placed them out of reach,
Kesolvcd tliey never would forget this lesson they would teach, —
" That homely ))leasures are the best, and greater comfort makes
" Than rambling aindessly abroad, and playing ' ducks and drakes.
J )>
Thus country cousins shew the M'orld that Town Life is a sham,
And scenes of wliicli we brag so mncli, mni'ality does damn,
So cultivate more homely joys, and perliajis in time we shall,
Entice again, to London town, true-hearted Job and Sal.
102 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
H Debating llDOusc Celebratioiit
AT "the old spread EAGLE," BLACKBURN, JANUARY 13tH, 1885.
The fire is quenched ; contention's dead ; the wordy war is o'er ;
Philosophy and Sophism have fled from out the door ;
Each solemn air and gesture strange, the hobbies learning bring.
Is laid aside, to seek repose, beneath the Eagle's wing,
The Chairman's bench, that honoured seat, which constitutes a throne,
Is relegated for awhile to regions lesser known ;
The bell, with all its glory, has been banished for the time,
And mirth usurps authority, where learning reigns sublime.
Sages, legislators, and the whole assembly then,
Hobnobbed, and broke the dull reserve, peculiar to such men.
Old age and youth, their merry quips, together they did crack.
And peals of laughter witness bore, that none did humour lack.
The goodly and substantial fare, with which the tables groaned,
Cemented a new fellowship that only friendship owned ;
Mind and matter, generated scope for more research.
And matter gave the mind a turn — the mind did matter much.
The festive board, the cheerful scene, and ever joyous song,
The loving cup, the merry tale, and happy go-along.
The soberest brain, the stoutest heart, relaxes 'mid such fare,
And thus the " Eagle's " proteges enthusiasm share.
What matters who shall call it wrong for wranglers to agree ?
Such recreation proves a boon to frail mortality.
It cannot be that noble minds will woo disastrous plight.
And so reprieve is granted for the " Eagle's " festive night.
Then, Hail, ye brothers, one and all ! for ye I breathe a prayer —
May the sunshine of prosperity attend you everywhere.
Foil honesty of purpose in a honest cause must win.
And happy days will smile upon " The Old Spread Eagle Inn."
There are many homes in England, and a many people too,
But none surpasses Yorkshire, nor is anyone more true.
You cannot find a better or a worthier renown.
Go where you will, I say it still, than Yorkshire's, up or down.
A Yorkshireman is jolly, and a Yorkshireman is plain,
He barters melancholy for a more substantial gain.
Though oft-times deemed a rustic, and as simple as you please,
He can buy or sell, your tip-top swell, and manage it with ease.
BEGGAR MANUSCRII'TS. 103
A Yorkshire girl is pretty, and a Yorkshire girl has taste,
She's happy and she's witty, and is cai'eful not to waste.
She can bake and sew, I'd have you know, and leads a useful life.
And men-folks tell, they come off well, who win a Yorkshire wife.
There is no finer scenery than Yorkshire's acred Shire,
No better favoui-ed country, for good health, or to admire,
There are hills, and dales, and moorlands, with many a hedge and dyke,
And honest-hearted ever, is a homely Yorkshire Tyke.
The natives of old Yorkshire are the bravest of the brave,
They never brook an insult, and a favour never crave,
The hold aloof from meanness, and no matter where they roam,
They cam a fame and honoiared name, for a model English home.
Then here's success to Yorkshire, and to Yorkshire people too.
My love for you will never fade, whilst heart and mind are true,
The grip of honest fellowship unto each one I extend.
And fondly greet, whene'er I meet, a hearty Yorkshire friend.
Ubc UDOuse ot Go&.
When unbelievers feet have trod
Beyond the walks of grace.
Still I within the House of God
Delight to take my place.
What though the sceptical and vain
Its proffer'd shelter scorn.
The House of God shall still remain
My Refuge night and morn.
To me it is a pi-ecious spot,
A tabernacled realm,
Where Peace abides and sin is not,
When Faith directs the Helm.
I love to hear the Preacher's voice
Repeating psalms of life ;
It makes my troubled soul rejoice,
And (luells all inward strife.
I like to hear tlie Organ's swell.
And feel the magic power
That prompts my trembling lips to tell
My failings every hour.
Beneath its well appointed roof
I lift my voice in song —
A tuneful burst which tenders proof
Of sinulcness and wrong.
104 liEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
I value not the Learning, which
Evohes di^;tru8S of mind ;
Let uie a clearer doctrine teach
Which gives me Hope to find.
'Ti.s in the House of God alone
Tliis doctrine can be found,
And gladly do I there atone
With reverence profound.
Then let my lot be good or ill,
Whilst ujipermost the sod,
I'll ]>lead for Mercy, Grace, and Will,
W'ithin the House of God.
/ll>uoolctou's XTea lpart^\
T went to a tea party, the other day, at my old"friend Muggleton's. I dare say
_you have heard of Bobby Muggleton before to-day, for it is a noted fact that when
he got married to Joan o' Dykes he became celebrated all at once. .Joan was no
common woman in any sense, and when Bobby jumped into partnership \\ ith her
so suddenly, he .surprised everybody by his bravado. If ever a prize had been
offered for a right-down virago, and Joan could have been entered, she would have
won it very easily, for she was- as awkwardly cantankerous as anybody conld be. I
don't blame her for being ngly, although she was not so handsome that I could be
tempted to flirt with her, but really she could have no occasion for being so awfully
snappy and ill-tempered. It is all very well for some folks to shout for women's
rights and sing " Rule Britannia," but at Bobby's house it was Joan who ruled the
roost. Certainly this rule was never disputed, for against a vicious looking, big,
brawny handed, and muscular six-foot woman, Bobby appeared a mere stripling.
At any rate, whenever any knotty argument was waging, .loan wonld clinch it at
once by ordering him off to some job or another, and for quietness' sake he used to
13ut up with it. He was a tackier, or a weaving overlooker by trade, and could earn
a comfortable salary; and being of economical pursuits his wife reaped the advantage.
As it happened, there worked under his supervision at the mill, a nice, buxom young
woman, just out of her teens, and between her and Bobby had grown apparently a
mutual liking. In fact, it was the deepest occasion for remorse with Bobby, that he
had never met her in his single days, and, unfortunately for his peace of mind,
Betty spurred him on by appearing at her lo\'eliest ; and btith of them got deeper
in Love's gilded meshes, until a perfect infatuation took possession of them.
Now, Betty was really a good-looking young woman, and beyond this attachment
to a married man, which could not be kept within proper bounds, there was
nothing could be said to her discredit. But, someliow, it happens that the best
intentions, as the Scotch poet puts it, "oft gang iigley," and the heart that should
have been sacredly true to his wife, yearned, alas ! for another. It does occur
sometimes in this unlucky sphere, that we discover, only too late, " u-Jiat mi(/ht,"
alas, only so well, " have been." When Joan received the news of Bobby's
imfaithfulness, bitter feelings possessed her, and the .same boded ill for his welfare.
Of all sad things in life, nothing is truly sadder tlian to see a tied couple travelling
contrary ways, and each bent upon spiting the other. However, the commonplace
routine of Bobby's life was one day changed by the breakage of some engine
machinery at the mill where he worked, and, of course, as it wonld take a considerable
time to repair it, it necessitated a holiday for the general hands, Bobby and Betty
amongst the number. So when he reached home and told Joan of the affair, she
very quietly arranged to visit some friends, and bade him to remain indoors and mind
the house. Of course, like a proper termagant, she did not even then leave him
without plenty restrictive regulations a,s to the conduct becoming to a married man
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 105
whose wife was from home ; and such a state of melancholy did her attitude
inspire within him, that it was fully an hour after her departure when he arose from
his seat. But for once in his life he had arrived at some sort of determination,
and settled in his mind what a godsend her absence would prove, in promoting a scheme
of enjoyment. And enjoyment he meant having, in some shape or other, to celebrate
such a happy release from thraldom, and being undecided as to the manner thereof, he
walked over to consult me in the matter. Thus did I get mixed up in the affair.
Undoubtedly our friendship demanded such a display of confidence in such an im-
portant matter, but, speaking frankly, the avidity I displayed in urging him
forward in his scheme was not altogether free from a malicious fi^eling towards Joan.
So we studied the matter carefully, and finally decided to have a " tea party " at
Bobby's own house, the company to consist of tiiree couples only. Of course, in our
own way, we did not forget to take measures to have a perfect clearance of every-
thing before his wife's return, ourselves included. We arranged to have Betty with
us, with also a chum of ours, and our sweethearts ; so that altogether we might enjoy
ourselves without stint, and be safe from prying eyes. The prospect of Betty's
smiling loveliness gracing his hearthstone in reality, fairly entranced Bobby, and
whilst he busied himself in the necessary preparations for the event, I went round
and got the company together. He knew one or two nice little " tips," did Bobby,
and when we arrived at his liouse he had the kettle boiling, a nice spread on the
table, everytliing cosy, and a large bottle of " short stuff " to keep the steam up. Of
course there was a little fluttering when we all got together, but it soon wore away,
and before we left the talile we were as merry as lambs. It was a splendid affair all
through, and a drop of rum and tea is a wonderful reviver. At any rate, we laughed
and cliaffed, told tales, joked witli one another, and behaved altogether the same as
children. It takes a wonderful effect in a good company does rum and tea, and if
you help 3'ourselves too freely to it, you won't be long before you show an attack of
" simples." Well, before so very long, there was some rare rosy cheeks and smiling
faces, and every one of us felt fairly frisky. Bobby forgot all his troubles for once,
and as he sat tliere in his arm-cliair, with Betty next to him — one arm round her
amj^le waist, and her beaming face nestling against liis manly shoulder — they were
truly a picture worth seeing ; and I shall not easily forget it. They looked for all the
world as soft as hot butter that melts itself away as you look at it. I often think
about the "carryings on" that night, for what with song singing, and a moderate
share of sweeth carting as well, we fairly eclipsed ourselves. There is no one fonder
of a little boisterous fun in its proper place than I am myself, but the lively and
expressive style of that occasion must very nearly have approached a misdemeanour,
A shrewd observer will often note the simpering and cooing peculiar to such
meetings, and oui-s vva§ no exception to the rule. It is a moot question, indeed, as to
what becomes of the sober senses of an unusually philosophic mind in this condition
of things, for verily there are very few specimens of this class even, who ujion such
occasions do not seem to change their character completely. However, Bobby and
Betty " carried the palm " upon this occasion, and wluit with spooning and frolicing,
I never knew such an " all gone " party as we then proved. An arrangement was
made to sing a song each in turn, the rest to join in the chorus, and after a time it
came to Bobljy's turn to sing. With it also came the climax. Standing side by side
in the centre of the room, or as near standing as they were capable of, he in a fond
caressing attitude, and slie leaning lovingly against him, with one arm clasping his
neck, he rose grandly to the occasion, and with nuich feeling rendered tlie opening
strains of " (lood-bye. Sweetheart, good-bye." You might imagine, friend, but will
never kno-w, how strangely blended were the impressions produced thereby ; for with
her strong lung'd and unsteady assistance, the disjointed sentences and starting tears
of the twain, accompanied by the audibly hysterical results of the unusual " fuddle ''
from everyljody ])resent, it was striking enough fe)r a " patent right " application.
No one watching the perfonnance, sucii as it was, coidd have doubted that the fare-
well was realistic, and such, indeed, it j^roved to be. .Tust when the second verse
was finishing, and Bobby's feelings seemed about to overflow ; just as Betty
(owing to the prolonged and uncommon strain upon her nervous system) was
preparing carefully to fall in a convenient swoon ; and just as the onloolcers
were experiencing unwonted thrills ; just at that moment the door opened
wide and very suddenly, and in walked Joan. In she stalked like an avenging fury,
106 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
and at the sudden apparition, one loud and continued yell rent the building. In one
moment there was a tremendous bustle ; screaming, screeching, declaiming, and
bewailing, such a scene as I never wish to witness again. Bobby and Betty were
fairly mesmerised, and there they stood in solemnly endearinc attitude, with
eyes fixed upon Joan, unable to stir either hand or foot. Beyond the ever
chano-ing pallor of their faces, which alternated from sallow to crimson, you would
have^thought them both thoroughly petrified. Joan took in the situation at a glance,
and a peculiar sneer about her cruel lips gave me the impression that she enjoyed her
triumph. It was really a pity to spoil our pleasure so unnaturally, but truth to tell,
we had ourselves aided in our discomfiture in forgetting prudence, and overstaying
the limited time arranged upon. Seeing how matters stood, Joan walked coolly to a
slopstone in the kitchen and returned with a bowl full of cold water, which she very
deliberately and diabolically emptied over Bobby and Betty together, heedless of the
spasmodic cries of the thoroughly bewildered victims. But why need I relate the
details of the terrible midoing they received ? Suffice it to say they deserved com-
miseration in their plight. Such a change in our programme was never anticipated,
and we wished heartily to turn our backs upon it, which we did not manage without
the aid afforded to us by the household utensils which lay convenient to the injured
wife's reach. In fact, so desperate was the case that the «rial flight of a three-legged
stool had miraculously missed ending my discomfited career, and I vowed inwardly
and heartily as I ran, never again to risk an encounter on similar terms with an
Amazon. What dire punishment befell the unfortunate love-lorn couple, pity forbids
me to say ; but this I can vouch, that for their very fleeting term of joy, they suffered
most cruelly, morallv and physically. What hap|jened precisely I never knew, .and
never had the heart'to enquire ; but it is certain that Betty did not return to her
work until three days had expired from the starting time, and then she bore evidence
of much sundry and vicious ill-usage. As for poor Bobby, the suffering victim of an
ill-starred marriage, sure his injuries were palpably evident to any beholder, for, not
to mention the colouring process his face had undergone, he carried scratches and
scars innumerable. He also lost his employment in consetjuence of enforced absence
from the mill, and when 1 happened to see him in the street one day, his features
looked so downcast, and of such a pallid hue, that I truly grieved for his sake. He
suffered much for the adventure, but in spite of all remained trae to Betty ; declaring
solemnly that nothing should compel him to live one day longer with Joan than law
permitted, and that an action for divorce was pending, which, if successful, would
ensure his own and Betty's happiness for life. And folks certainly pitied his hard
lot, having noticed how lightly and cruelly Joan had treated him. I told him that
they had my best wishes, and" many of them, for success ; but sincerely besought him
for all our sakes not to be rash whatever he did, and not to let Joan hear one word
of his intentions, for I felt sure if she got to hear of it, poor Bobby's life would not be
worth the insuring. Naturally, I do wish that all folks who are devoted to one
another should come to a happy condition, but whether or not my friends ever do so,
I know that I shall never forget for a long time to come, that unexpected denouement
at Muggleton's Party.
Alone in my study one cold winter's evening,
I sat and I pondered on incidents past ;
The cares of the day had dispers'd, to my seeming.
And calm retrospection engaged me at last.
I pictured the friends who had long since departed,
And lived once again in a beautiful world ;
The scenes long ago made me feel happy-liearted,
As innocent pleasures were quickly imfurl'd.
BEGGAR MANUSCRirXS. 107
The youthful Innrj syne even yet did attract me,
As carelessly free with my fellows I played,
Till Time, the uprooter, yet farther did track me,
And drove me athwart, where the wanderer strayed.
Some strange ups and downs were revealed to my thinking
As over life's sea I was driven and toss'd ;
Betimes fairly calm, and sometimes almost sinking,
'Tis hard to believe what the journey has cost.
But angels of mercy once more did attend me.
And sunrise adorned the horizon at last ;
Though humble and frail, yet a few did befriend me.
Till at length — hajjpy day — is the misery past.
And now, may the rest of my days be contented,
Tor the vision has gone, and my work starts anew ;
I would tliat no further of life be lamented,
So, facing my lot, I will strive to be true.
ZTbe Blacl?burii poets, 18SS.
ODE IN RESPONSE TO WILLIAM BILLINGTON's "WHERE ARE THE BLACKBURN POETS GONE ?"
There's a question of late that has often been put.
And the answering which proves a troublesome nut ;
But if you will grant me one minute of time,
I'll venture to give you the answer in rhyme.
" Come, tell me, O Muse," sang the Patriarch Bard,
" Where the Poets have gone whom we deeply regard,
" And why are they silent in tuning the lyre,
" Whose genius Vjurns with celestial fire ? "
This query in truth held an ominous tone.
As Billington perfectly well would have known ;
But he, with a heart overburdened with zeal,
Spoke out from his fulness for Poesy's weal.
Devotion alone led the tip of his pen.
And made him deplore the dull quietude then ;
So, in plain, homely strain, he expressed a desire
For the nuisic of those whom the Muse did inspire.
And wherefore should he not the (juestion ask.
Since surely it offered a cordial task ;
For his compeers tiady had fallen away.
From constant endeavours to edit each Lay.
But now tliat the (Querist has journeyed hence,
There cannot remain any causi' of ]>retence
For silence, or rust, or witholding tiie strain.
And so to his (juestion I'll venture again.
108 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
There is Yates and there's Chippendale, Abram,andWest,
With those dialect rhymsters, and locally best—
The two brothers Baron, whom nought seems to tax,
Self-styled " Jack-o'-Ann's," and again, "Bill-o'-.Tacks."
There's Hurst and .loe Baron, with dry " Aker-Whitt,"
Remain with us still, and as votaries sit :
These all were renowned in a practical way.
When Billington penned his sweet Lyrical lay.
We have Duxbiiry, Clounie, and Edgar and Hull,
Welcome singers each one, and of harmony full ;
Surely these will succeed in creating renown,
And guarding the fame of our poetic town.
A many besides, in addition we've got,
Too modestly shy, although sterling the lot.
In defence of our honour the gauntlet is thrown.
That the shades of the dead may our Brotherhood own.
There is Walker, a name we sincerely admire,
Still sings, though with Jardine, transplanted each lyre ;
But the Querist, alas ! has pass'd into that bourne
(With poor Richard Rawcliffe) f rom whence none return.
May his name and his fame ever verdant remain.
And may we sweet singers for ever retain.
That a page to the glory of this, our loved town.
Be found in the annals of England's renown.
Ht Xast.
[A gentleman, having sorvcd in a subordinate position for many years — a position wliicli was
irksome to Ids feelings — very suddenly became rich through the decease of a wealthy relative,
and invited the Author to consider the circumstances, and celebrate the occasion by writing this
farewell to his surroundings.]
'Tis o'er at last — the galling yoke —
The bondage now is past,
The chain is loose — the fetters broke, —
And I am free at last.
'Tis sad to picture all the years
Of bitterness and care.
To think of all the sighs and tears
Evolved from deep despair.
I cannot own one little pang,
Because my task is done ;
I'm heedless now of every clang,
Eor now — the Battle's won.
Farewell, to all ye books and pens ;
Farewell, ye Ledgers too ;
Farewell to everything that lends
Remorse unto my view.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 109
Farewell, to all ye hateful scenes —
A jubilant farewell ;
A service with you only means
A servitude in hell.
Avaunt, ye spectres of the past !
Away, from out my view !
For time has vanquished you at last,
And life is leased anew.
Never again do I wish to see
Ye symbols of disgrace ;
Not any charm remains for me
About the wi-etched place.
I leave you all in sweet content,
Without one small regret.
Beyond the wish that luck was sent
Ere you and I had met.
So, once again, a last adieu
My patience is run o'er ;
A life mis-spent begins anew ;
Farewell, for evermore.
H Zalc of Xo\>e.
Two Lovers together were strolling one day,
And fondly conversed in an amorous way ;
Each one did endeavour the other to please.
Desiring the while to appear at ease.
They tarried at length in a quiet retreat
Where mossy-grown hillocks provided a seat.
And Will with his arm clasp'd around Maggie's waist.
Of true lover's rapture enjoyed a rich taste.
But she, though indeed very happy just then,
Possessed but a sorry opinion of men ;
And though in her heart she was honest and just,
Of him she had always a little distrust.
She could not explain this condition so well.
For Love runs astray, as its vagaries tell.
But yet slie displayed ([uite a tremulous fear
Though he was as constant as days in the year.
Young Maggie was timid and sliy as could be.
From lover's sweet joys she would shrinkingly flee,
Full di'eading lest Will in liis ardour would poach
And cause her a future of lasting reproach.
110 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
But never indeed had he proved so inclined,
For he vakied lier person no more than her mind ;
His fiihiess of course might entice him astray,
But never beyond any f(jnd lover's way.
And thus did they reason whilst cozily sat,
The j^ros and the cons duly measured in chat.
And handsome young Maggie she fluttered and sighed
As Will begg'd for favour becoming a bride.
And little by little his arts overcame,
As he in his fervour redoubled his claim,
His low murmured pleadings and kisses so sweet
Consumed every fear with fire and heat.
H /IDaD HDventure.
A very interesting acquaintance of my younger days was a person whose
sobriquet was "Old Nepper." Not that he was so very old in years, for he could not
have exceeded thirty, or so ; luit considered as he was — half idiot and half knave —
his peculiarities entitled him to rank as "old." There was no mischief afoot he was
not a party to, and whether concocted by men or boys, no surer way of securing his
friendship existed than by such a paltry bribe as a piece of tobacco. For this con-
sideration, you could command him unreservedly for either fun or vengeance, if not
otherwise engaged. Add to this peculiarity an uncouth figure, short limbs, and a
certain facial deformity, with a habit of developing too suddenly somewhat alarming
fits, and you will have a fairly accurate description of Old Nepper. Considering the
fits and the idiocy combined, it is true to say that I always experienced a certain awe
of him ; and I am positive that the mad animal style, in which he kept the very
young village children in justifiable terror of him, aroused in myself feelings of a
similar, though more subdued nature. But with all his drawbacks he was very
popular, and an acknowledged institution in our midst ; and I verily believe that in
one way or anotlier, every inhabitant had cultivated his acqaintance. In common
with the rising generation throughout the country at that time, there was no day in
the year so dear to the hearts of our village youths as the Gunpowder Plot (bonfire
day). Upon that day and night, mischief held high jinks, and many a blazing pile
gave testimony to the plundering dejjredations upon fences and in woods, by organised
gangs, banded together for the occasion. If ever there was one time more than
another when our hero's services were in request, it was on these occasions, for his
d.aredevil ventures and simplicity rendered nothing safe that came in his way.
Fences, trees, plants, and anything else that was combustible and movable, were all
purloined and added to the bulk that was stowed away in some out-of-the-way place
ready for the carnival. And it must not be forgotten that each separate gang of
youths kept its own separate store, and, being in rivalry with each other, it not un-
frequently happened that successful raids were made upon their respective stores, thus
occasioning and maintaining a malicious spirit abroad. It was no wonder, then, that
this " progging " time, as it was called, was an excitable period in our village ; and
when, in addition to the plundering, contributions in coal and coin were levied upon
the neighbours in each district, it may very easily be surmised what mischief resulted,
and what an important event was Bonfire Day. These bonfires were no child's play,
but great, fierce, blazing piles that illuminated the whole district, and kept burning for
a couple of days, and around wliich roughly sported, with firearms, fireworks, beer
barrels, dancing, smoking, and flirtation, the various members of each proprietary
band. Amidst such scenes as these, of course, Nepper would revel until he lost his
bead completely, and it was little wonder that the orgies were to him ineffaceable, for
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. Ill
in them he achieved great distinction. Upon one certain occasion, Nepper's gang had
prepared a great stock of combustibles, and lieing desirous of obtaining a little diver-
sion at the idiot's expense, they determined upon a line of action. Following out
their plan, they were not long in informing him that, from information received, they
expected to receive a visit from a certain gang of rival plunderers, and thus prevailed
upon Nepper to remain all nig-ht upon the premises, and keep watch over their posses-
sions. This information alone was sufficient to make Nepper prick up his ears, but when,
in addition, they primed him well with beer and tobacco, he could not have withheld
his approval. So he consented to keep guard over the storehouse yard, and plainly
let them see that he was fully determined to attack anything or anybody that offered
to lay unlawful hands upon their spoil. There was really no danger whatever of
STich an occurrence taking place, and they knew it very well ; but being mischievously
inclined, they considered themselves entitled to have some entertainment. Nepper,
therefore, thoroughly befooled, took up his position as arranged, and with a stout
cudgel in his grasp waited seriously and patiently for the de^jredators. Now, it
also happened that a certain frolic-loving policeman, having been an miseen listener
to the gang's arrangement, resolved within himself to use the occasion for his own
relaxation, and Nej^per's discomfiture at the same time. So, keeping his jjroject to
himself, and having provided a white gown, cap, skull, and mask for the purpose, he
waited until midnight for the efficient carrying out of his scheme. Nepper, in the
meantime, having taken up his quarters in the yard, waited until he almost despaired
of action, but curbing his impatience as well as a vigorous enjoyment of a smoke
could expi'ess, he quietly seated himself in a corner and awaited developments. It
may possibly have been that during his prolonged inactivity his ardour had somewhat
abated, but whether that was so or not, a sudden sound at the opposite end of the
premises, occurring simultaneously with the then closing midnight chimes, full
quickly aroused him to a proper sense of his position ; and he strained his eyes in a
vain effort to pierce the intervening gloom. Soon, again, he heard the same sound
repeated, and tliinking to surprise the daring intruder unawares, he cautiously crept
towards the place, keeping very close to the wall. Now, curiously enough, the
policeman — for he it was — having donned his disguise and made himself look as
ghostly as possible, was pursuing similar tactics to Nepper himself, and creeping
along the wall side ; and, as a natural consequence they met full tilt on the way.
Whether it was the suddenness of the affair or not, I cannot tell, but certain it is
that Nepper's terrified shi'iek and the rustle of retreating robes were startling sounds
that (piickly broke the midnight stillness. It happened also, at this juncture, that
the moon began to shed her light upon the scene at the same time that Nepper's
comrades were returning to release him from his task and chuckle over their sharpness.
But, up(m hearing the shriek and cautiously peering over the wall, they became
witnesses of an interesting sight indeed. In one corner of the yard, trembling with
an awful fear that possessed him, they Ijeheld their victim staring with dilated eyes
at a white figure which was surmounted with a " death's head," leering at him from
the opposite corner. Intuitively they felt that every occasion for joking haC
disappeared, and that for the poor fellow, at all events, it had become a most serious
matter. However, curiosity overweighed every other consideration ; and they
anxiously awaited the issue of events, whilst taking the precaution not to be seen,
for, knowing their comrade's peculiarities as they did so well, to expect a "battle
royal " was not too much under the circumstances. What to think of such an imearthly
visitant Nepper did not know, but it is certain that the figure fascinated him, and
completely lield him in check. With anything earthly he could grapple to some
purpose, but against such as there appeared, to expect it was out of the question.
Had " his ghostship " then departed, all would have ended well for both parties, but
when it began to handle the precious •' phnider," as if to take it away, that was a
proceeding tliat the pour fellow would not and could not allow to pass unchallenged.
Even to the idiot tliere seemed to be a gn^at gulf 'twixt ghosts and thieves, and the
moment that the wood was handled, he at once boldly shrieked in defiant tones a
warning to "put it down." There nuist surely have been some determination in Nepper's
looks at the time, for the figure immediately dropped it in an unceremonious manner.
Such a demand, and in such tones, iiad rather disconcerted the intruder, but he appli(!d
himself to sucli n'liostl}' artificfs as in Ins mind seemed associated with the character,
to such good effect, tliat so lon^' as the "operation" lasted, Nepper was helpless,
112 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
With one ami of spotless white, strikingly uplifted, and the other solemnly
waving him backwards — his whole form in an attitude of stern impressivenes.s — it is no
wonder that he mesmerised Nepper ; for I make bold to say that any other person
would have exhibited similar effects, Nepper was completely imder his sway, had he
not handled that wood ; and the poor fellow co\dd readily have suffered annihilation
ratiier than have borne such an insufferable indignity. But such a result was averted
for even a second time, and this fact l)ecoming irradicably impressed upon JNepper's
mind, and his cunning being of a certain order, he ([uickly decided that Ghost or no
Ghost he would make a stand for it, if he dared to touch that wood again. And so
indeed it happened, foi' in a very short space of time, his horrified comrades, peering
anxiously over the wall, saw him, frothing with passion, make a savage onslaught upon
his opponent. And very quickly then it was known by the sound of a muffled but
angry voice, that the end of tlie struggle was not so distant. The ghost impersonator
was in a sad dilemma when he found himself at such close qiiarters, and he felt that the
tug of war, the most serious item of the evening, had reached discussion. He knew
his man's prowess only too well, and thoroughly appreciated Nepper's instincts when
aroused ; and for the very first time he felt an earnest desii-e to avoid contingencies.
Keeping as clear of Nepper as possible he backed freely towards the door, hoping thus
to leave the ])lace ; but a sight of tlie cudgel which our hero had grasped, and was
preparing tcj wield, at once determined him to make a more serious and final effoi-t.
With this view he resorted once more to his trickery and raised his arm, but e\'ery
trace of terror having been dissipated by than time from Nepper's mind, down went
the cudgel upon the unlucky hand with a swinging, sacrilegious, whack. (Jne nmttered
curse, one hvirried move, and the skidl and head gear were quickly deposited upon the
ground, whilst tlie policeman's well-known but exasperated features were exposed to
view. "D n thee, tha wrong head," he lustily shouted, " give it up, willta ? I'm
not a ghost; tha gret fooil, be quiet." Had Nepper been at all argumentative, the
matter might even then have been settled amicably, although it had reached the acute
stage ; but the strange, and to him unaccountable denouement, only increased his
jierplexities. " I don't care what tha art," retorted lie in the same vernacvilar, "tha
munnot come steilin' my prog, an' I'll noan stand it," and with that he applied him-
self to waving his cudgel dangerously near to the policeman's head. Of course, after
that, there was nothing for it but to have a regular set to ; so, knocking the idiot's
weapon from his hand, they were soon (juickly struggling, wrestling, and rolling about,
locked in each other's grasp, and in justice to the policeman it must be admitted that
it was an unequal contest, for Nepiper was a monster in lirute strength — as such people
often are — but the policeman was certainly no child in his liands. Nepper's comrades
perceiving a pressing necessity for interference, they hurriedly decided to part
the two combatants ; and not one moment too soon. First one down and then tlie
other, howling, pommelling, and cursing alternately, it was no wonder that the
unusual noise roused the whole neighbourhood, and brought other police officers upon
the scene, and then only was the officer rescued from the idiot's clutches. And it
must be confessed that the practical joker, when safely released from his grasp,
presented a most pitiable appearance, while as for NepjJer himself he was loudly
hilarious and declaiming hideously. The whole truth oozed out at last that the poor
fellow had been victimised by both his chums and the policeman ; and for the honour
of the village, and out of respect to the police force, it was resolved to let the matter
rest, and never to try conclusions with him again. To this day there are certain
villagers who entertain the highest admiration for old Nepper, and who firmly believe
that the true explanation is only a concoction to deprive the idiot of well-merited
honour, and they cling to the opinion that Nepper really did encounter, and actually
overcome a real ghost, but was finally undone by the policeman. It is only fair to
add that no one ever since has attempted familiarities with him, for the officer has
often declared that he was thoroughly worn out, and expected annihilation as the only
possible ending to his mad freak at the same moment that he was rescued. They are
great friends now, and there is little danger of Nepper being in want of tobacco
or beer again so long as he can supply him. Need I tell you, reader, in conclusion,
that, popular as the poor fellow had always been previously, his ghost adventure made
him more popular still ; and when the Bonfire day arrived, and the whole band congre-
gated round their " burning record," the feather decoration in his hat proclaiir.cd that
if one spirit more than the rest was triumphant, that one was indeed " Old Nepper."
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 113
Ube Xost Stor^.
[pounded on a popular anecdote.]
An antii|narian — old and grave,
Of Vandalism jealous —
Employed himself to trace and save
Traditions — mighty zealous.
For Legendary lore, our fiiend
Had got cai)aci<ms swallow.
And for his tacts did much depend
On circumstances hollow.
Thus time, and space, and money — he
Had never mind to reckon.
As boldly — but peculiai-ly,
To any one he'd beckon.
And so a pile of uncertain Lore
Had Fogy in his sanctum,
And if he had heard some things before,
Why then — he simply " Yank'd " 'em.
Disinterested in all his aims
To benefit the million,
He noticed not the numerous games
To make him look a silly " un."
And when the learned (?) man had found
Some tumble-down old miins.
He, quite entranced, said, "I'll lie bound
" Here's been some awful doin's."
So calling to his aid a man,
A very Hodge in bearing,
The antiipiarian soon began
To exercise his darin<?.
Said he — " This Ruin, — do you know
" Of any likely Story
" That Warfare or Romance can show
" Connected with its (ilory ?
" If so you do, you may depend
" I'll recomjtense the trouble,
" And should it prove surprising, friend,
"Why then I'll give you double."
Then the Yokel spoke with an eager tongue,
As though he'll earn'd his crown,
" Tiler' wor one once, sir, when I wor young,
"But that Story fjcct burnt down,"
114 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
•ffDow it Ibappcucb*
Whether it was that Harry and I were diCEerent to other peoi)le I cannot say, but
certain I am that wo were very' similar in our likes and dislikes. Whatever scheme
or enterprise might be on the cards, sure enough it happened that each of us was
interested in it ; and as he and I were of about the same age and build, we somehow
came to join issue in every venture, and became boon companions and bosom friends.
Young and thoughtless, we were nearly always ripe for mischief, and it became a
proverb in our village that wherever one of us was to be found, the other was never
far away. It is true to say that very often we received blame for things of which we
were entirely innocent, and also got many physical inflictions which, although being
of a salutary nature, were still undeserved and unappreciated. It could not truly be
said that Harry was vicious, or mean, or even wilfully destructive ; but that he was
boisterous, rich, and kindling in enthusiasm, no one ventured to dispute. What I
was myself, must of course be inferred from our association ; but when we arrived a.t
man's estate, an event occurred which in some mysterious fashion became the first
but certain occasion of our drifting apart, and taking a course of our own. This
puzzled me very much at the time, and as our lives had been wrapped in each other
for so long a period, it was with considerable pain that I set myself the task of dis-
covering the why and wherefore thereof. And I discovered it to my cost, for I found
myself deserted to my great surprise in order that he might follow a girl who had
stolen his affections from me. At first I could have laughed aloud at the thought,
for I could not suppose such a state of things to continue ; but after a time the con-
viction was driven home to me that never again should we be lads together, and that
our manhood had begun. Ah, well ; it is thus with everyone, and yet it seemed to
me to be as great a punishment as any that could have befallen me, for I was made
to feel my loneliness in a very bitter fashion. So we drifted apart, and as time wore
on I yielded to circumstances, and became ere long a v/anderer. I^'rom place to place
I rambled and strayed, here one day and there another, earning a livelihood as best I
could, until after a year's time I returned to the village, weary and thoroughly heart-
sick. Then, of course, I learnt the news, and as nearly every villager knows a good
deal of his neighbour's affairs, it turned out that Harry's affairs were discussed very
freely far and wide. The girl, for whose society he had jilted me, was really a nice
and respectable person, but being of a highly romantic disposition, she had easily
fallen in love with him. I knew her, of course ; and although I had alwaj'^s been on
speaking terms with her family, yet I had never felt anything of so amatory a nature, as
to become particularly interested in her. But Harry was alwaj's impulsive, and so
he yielded easily enough to Cupid's machinations when his time arrived ; and Emma
and he were really a model pair. Young, shapely, and attractive, both, everyone in
the community spoke well of them, and in addition to wishing tliem well, took a
decided and proprietary interest in them. This, of course, by the way ; but from the
moment of my departure from the village, it was naturally expected that a marriage
betwixt the pair was only a question that required mooting, and, once mooted, would
be as easily settled. And so, upon returning thither, I expected nothing else than
seeing them married, settled, and comfortable ; but what was my astonishment to
learn that the wedding day had actually been postponed three times ; that Harry was
very undecided, and that poor Emma, alas ! was in a most interesting but unfortunate
condition. Latterly, so the rumour ran, he had begun to evince a desire to shirk
responsibility ; and as folks dared not rail against him through fear of driving him
clean away from the place, it may easily be imagined how matters stood. Once more,
however, I felt dra-wn towai'ds him, and on meeting him soon afterwards a few miles
away from home, we renewed our companionship, and exchanged confidences. He
seemed entirely changed as it were, wore a hunted, distressed, and haggard look,
as tiiough he suffered from great mental affliction ; and when he hinted, as he did,
that together we should travel away from that neighbourhood and from all who knew
us, I thought only of him and our friendship, and for his sake I agreed. Those happy
days of the past haunted me still, and I felt, wanderer and lonely as I was, that
for a return of such happiness to my life, I would have risked a great deal.
I thought nothing of others, and in my selfishness was for the time incapable of so
doing ; yet had I only considered a little, I might have seen the folly of my conduct.
We decided to go home for some changes of linen towards evening, and then, under
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. " 115
cover of the darkness, to make for the railway station and off. I must surely have
been mad to have consented at all, for, v.ould you believe it, reader, that on that very
day he had turned traitor to his vows, and actually deserted Emma on
what should have been her weddinjf day '': He had arranged to
meet her at a certain place in the next town, a distance of four miles off,
where the marriage should liave taken place, but instead of going at the appointed
time, he had taken the contrary direction, where I clianced to meet him. And in
that next town she was waiting, possiVily hoping against liope, that a way would be
found out of the difficulty. She had taken along with her, as witness to the nuptials,
an old friend of her own, and what nmst have been the feelings of both to find them-
selves in such a dilenmia ? But we didn't trouble ourselves aljout those things, and
so, feeling sure that they would have got back home and out of the way, we found
ourselves at 8 p. an. waiting on the platfonn for the down train. We had booked for
a long journey, and hoped by to-morrow to be far away from all home associations and
scenes. I think it was 1 who was the most desperate and determined of the two, for,
to my thinking, Harry only seemed downcast, undecided, and melancholy. Truly he
had got himself into a mess, and although he had behaved very badly to his sweet-
heai't, it was very plain that he loved her, altlunigh lie seemed to steer farther and
farther away from his duty. I didn't at all like to sec him thus, and someh(nv or
other began to feel oppressed with a presentiment of trouble that seemed to be
impending ; but, putting' a bold face on the matter, I shouted him to hurry along
towards the centre of the train, which was then puffing into the station. Opening a
carriage door, and trying by laughing banter to cheer him up, we were about to stej)
inside, when out came two females ; and we instantl}' were accosted by them. Wonder-
ful powers ! it was Enirnu and la-r friend, returning heaitbro]<en from the town ; and
there the four of us all stood for iialf a minute gazing into each others faces,
paralysed, as it were, in the doorway. Never whilst I live shall I forget my
sensations at that moment ; for with the first glance at the poor girl's careworn and
tear-stained face — and meeting at the same time the pitiful, pleading, and yet sur-
prised gaze — I felt intuitively that I should do nothing more to divide them, and that
I would rather suffer death tlian attempt it. If ever shame took possession of a man,
it did of me then absolutely ; and forgetful of all but the miserable meanness of the
enterprise, I was rendered powerless. Not so Harry, liowever ; for no sooner did he
realise the fact of their presence than, with a yell that seemed wrung from his very
heart's core, he retraced his footsteps at a run and hurried from the station. They were
dressed (juite nicely indeed, in robes whicli were symbolical of a marriage ceremony ;
but the silence of dtath possessed me until Emma broke the spell, and in broken
accents implored me to follow him and plead her cause ; and I resolved to do it, to put
away the mean desire which had possessed me, and try what one man could to repair
the breach which had been effected. So I closed the carriage door, and bidding them
stop at a little wicket-gate close to, T liurried after Hariy, and found him waiting dis-
consolately a short distance away. I at once informed him of my change of fi'ont,
and tried by every persuasion to induce him to come into consultation on
the matter ; but he stoutly declined to alter his views, and roundly
aljused me for my folly — as he called it — in addition. There was
nothing for it, then, but to let him see that I was in good earnest, so,
tearing my railway-ticket into pieces and flinging them away, I told him
the serious nature of the offence. I am not at liberty here to detail all that I did tell
him. I know that if the girl had been my sister I could not have done more for her
than I did. Apart from every other consideration, I tnld liini of her very visible
approach to maternity, and conjured him to believe tliat Providence would not endure
such cruel and unmanly conduct on his part. I bore with his reproaclies, and
explained that even then he had time to make reparation, and prove her honest before
the world. Whilst we were in the heat of it the two girls ajjproached us, and no
sooner did he see the look of manifest love and forgiveness in l*]nnna's face than he broke
down completely, and expi-esscd his great sorrow. Tliis was more than I could stand,
on my jiart; and whilst tliey embraced and made it up, I and her friend took occasion
to stioll further away, and discussed as to how n\atters niiglit be righted between
them. And when we returned, the twain had settled it all, so that I undertook, with
tiieir pennission, to see everytliing carried out. Enjoining strictest secrecy upon the
friend, it was decided that they should go home to her parents' Ikjusc together for the
116 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
night, and never attempt to deny or affirm anything, other than that they were
married and wished to retire early, as they intended to take a journey on the
morrow. And in celebration of the marriage, a general festival was already being
held by the assembled friends, and whilst they partook of the good cheer Emma
retired to rest in the company of her friend, who was asked to stay until the knot was
tied ; whilst I and Harry visited the Registrar privately to arrange for the morrow.
Afterwards we spent the night together, and before ten o'clock the next morning they
were lawfully made man and wife, greatly to every one's satisfaction, and their own
respect. An hour's ride in a cab got them home safe and sound, but as certain
symptoms began to manifest themselves soon afterwards in connection with the affair,
a doctor was brought, and before noon my friend's wife was delivered of a fine boy.
Everything prospered with the pair ; and, as for myself, I was made so much of
by both of them, that I felt very proud of my share in the matter, and became highly
popidar. If I state, in conclusion, that at a certain ceremony with a certain baby, in
a certain church, on a certain subsequent Sunday, there was no happier man than
the godfather, and that the godfather was very like myself, you will, no doubt,
understand it.
H Mintcr'5 Itttobt.
'Twas a bitterly cold winter's night,
All the streets were deserted and bare,
Ev'ry house had its glimmer of light
And nought seemed witliout but despair.
As I hurried along towards my home
In a shiver with chill and the cold,
I wonder'd to think who would roam
Abroad from a sheltering fold.
Even topers were scarce to be seen,
And "night-walkers" too, had gone hence,
A good sign that the weather was keen.
Too much for a hollow pretence.
Encased in warm clothing and shoes,
I hasted along on my way,
Determin'd no spare time to lose,
Anxiety at home to allay.
The baby was tuck'd into bed.
And mother was darning the hose,
Whilst time only slowly had sjjed
On landing in sight of repose.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 117
But r|uiclv when I reached to the door,
Wide open in greeting 'twas throwni,
I was slipper'd and settled before
Any bachelor how could have known.
Enfreed from my wrappings and hat,
The chair being drawn to tiie fire,
My darling quite opposite sat,
A woman to love and admire.
A thankfulness rose in my heart
For a partner so loving and true,
Whose presence alone could impart
A joy and a blessedness too.
And there by our own fireside.
Quite gladsome and happy wei'e we,
Content in our lot to abide
Ever trustful, and loving, and free.
Thus sitting with love in each eye.
And softness the while on each tongue
No reason gave scope to deny
A pleasure through all our life long.
'Twas grand to remain seated there.
With hearts beating faithful and true,
Secure from the blight of despair
And kindred unhappiness too.
The pitiless storm raged without,
The wind moaning weird and wild,
No signs of a lull were about.
No hopes of a morrow more mild.
The hisses, the whistles, and groans,
Whilst swiftly careering along.
Resembled in shriekings and moans,
Cadenzas of mischief and song.
The howling, discordant and strange.
The whirr and the sivish of its might.
Were startling and sudden in change.
Enough to put one in a fright.
So life, with its infinite sounds.
Can harass a mind ill at ease,
A\ hile falsity's measure rebounds
On those who iniquity seize.
No Rock like the sound one of Trutli,
No Bligiit like tlie depth of Despair
No Hope so inviting as Youth,
No Canker so bitter as Care.
118 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
Though Tempest, and Blight, and Despair,
SuiToinid us the worst and the best.
Yet trusting in God's gracious care.
We cahnly retir'd to our rest.
And so then to be happy and free,
Like a many through life who have trod.
Their evidence — the token shall be,
" Live closely U7ito Nature and God."
/llb^ JSirtb^a^.
Once again has Father Time
Anotlier year unroll'd,
And once again I hear the chime
That tells I'm getting old.
Short, indeed, the years seem,
Retrncing o'er the time ;
Stranger, too, than any dream,
That I have reach'd iny prime.
What have I done good in life?
Or has it been well spent ?
How have I gone through the strife ?
And am I now content ?
That's the question ; is it well
Or is my record bad ?
Would that I could truly tell,
I've reason to be glad.
Still the answer I should know,
Since mine has been the task ;
Yet would I not answer " No,"
Because myself I ask.
Creatures of the earth are we,
So I intend no harm.
Humbly wisliing to be free
From vain presumption's charm.
Can I improve ? That's the test.
Which reaches to my heart ;
Each one may attempt his best
To act a better part.
Am I willing ? I say, " Yes ;
"And will do right away."
Frail, yet I can venture this,
From now, on my Birthday.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 119
So each one may do the same,
And strive with better grace ;
Keep the conscience free from blame,
And bear a smilins^ face.
This is all that man can do.
Throughout his fitful life :
Prove himself upright and true.
Engaging in the strife.
5nt)ecision.
A great hindrance to man is man's indecision. Forgetful of the proverb, " God
helps those who help themselves," how prone we are to ignore our own responsibility.
Many is the time when a decisive character would have led us on to avert evils that
otherwise have attended us. I would not say be rash, or impetuous ; but many
instances occur, where, without study, a firm, manly decision, gains success. In any
questionable undertaking, Ije backward enough, but in a right or reasonable cause,
decide at once. Men should be manly, and in manly work not slow to decide ; and
whatever is unmanly reject at once. Not in idleness or wrong doing, not in worldliness
or dishonesty, lies man's duty ; and all the gloss and glitter of life should make no
man shirk his duty. The duty of man is clear to all men, his responsibility light as
day, and the path of duty is the path of honour. Be honourable in all things, be just
to all men, and true to yourselves. When sorely tempted, think of your honour, and
decide at once. Remember all those who depend upon you, and trust you ; and never
by any omission of duty, or indecision of purpose, cause any trouble to be accounted
for afterwards. Fortunes have been lost, and hell has been won, many a time and oft
by indecision, as well as indiscretion ; but look calmly before you leap. Delays are
dangerous, but don't always kill. Second thoughts are sfmietimes best, but generally
the way lies straight before us. Judge fairly, but beware of liypocrisy. Always cling
to fair honest principle, and be sure in all your atonings you owe none for indecision
Hn fDour in *'Zbc Sun."
'Twas in a town of some renown.
In a Tavern styled "The Sun,"
Whose Hc>st, from all frequenters,
Had a high opinion won.
I ventured late one afternoon,
Determin'd to enjoy
An hour's strange society.
And business to defy.
The tables were surrounded
By a troop of merry blades.
Whose characters were various
As their respective trades.
Each one for mirth was well inclin'd
Upon that afternoon,
And told again his favourite joke.
Or struck a lively tuuo.
120 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
The player sat upon his stool,
And freely stnniiin'd away,
When suddenly the landlord came
And unto all did say :
" Let us have some sport, my Lads !
" And sing with hearty cheer,
" And each one who neglects his turn
" Shall forfeit pay in Beer."
No sooner said than seconded.
And quickly then 'twas pass'd.
That everyone should sing around,
In turn — until the last.
The " Ilems " and " Ahs," from many a throat,
Resounded through the place,
As bold or nervous warblers then
Became possess'd of grace.
Alrmg " The Banks o' Bonnie Doon "
Did stroll " The Yorkshire Lass,"
And "Blue-eyed Nelly" sang "Good-bye,"
As " A friend in need " did pass."
" Give me the man of honest heart ! "
Exclaimed " Bold Pat Molloy ; "
" Long life unto your honour,"
Said " The Connemara Boy."
" What are the wild waves saying ? "
To " Dick Turpin's mare Black Bess,"
That "Jonathan, .James, and John " should raise
The laughter to excess.
" The Waterford Boys " went mashing
With "The South Carolina Gals,"
On " The rocky road to Dublin,"
Along with " Dear old pals."
The Forfeits were collected then,
Midst many a hearty laugh,
And voices lately harassed were
Reliev'd with many a (juaff.
Some were crack 'd and broken quite.
And others all but done.
But I turn'd away delighted
With— an hour in " The Sun."
''Deritas oMum parit."
A curious subject is this of mine ; from its very nature, as it were, compelling
me to criticise truthfully any body or any thing that may perchance attract my atten-
tion. I must do myself the simple justice to state that were it not for my business
peculiarities, very possibly I should have had no tendency to outstrip Nature with my
wondering propensities. Certain it is that more than half of my business hours I
have little else to do than gaze through the window, or content myself with
the contents of some book or newspaper. Now when it happens also that
across the road there is a flourishing pawnbroker's shop, and that customers are con-
tinually passing in and out all the day, whilst I have rarely any business to transact ;
such a fact renders one (jf a more contemplative turn, than perhaps would otherwise
be the case. That being so, I am positively certain from my vantage ground to
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 121
notice scenes and occurrences tliat help curiously but materially to swell the curiosity
in my composition. Certainlj', my eyes were originally intended for observation, just
as my brains were intended to support them ; and while, at the same time, many
people base their faith on simple rumour, I am myself convinced that nothing for a
positive fact can surpass ocular demonstration, although certain vulgar expounders of
proverbial wit declare most boldly, that only feeling is tlie naked trath. This is
scarcely admissible, seeing indeed that science has to account for much that is not
literally tangible ; neither would it apply to any person's case who might be blind or
deaf, as then it would appreciate one of the senses to the detriment of the other.
Let that be as it may, it has often struck me as a curious question, why the three
gilded balls should always hang so conspicuously over the pawnshop door, for they
would undoubtedly explain themselves far more clearly if upon each one of them were
inscribed an initial of £ s. d. There is no denying that they present a very close
relationship to those magic signs, in whatever light they may be regarded; and perhaps
it is a truth that such establishments are a very useful institution in a crowded com-
mercial country. At any rate, for my part I am sure that they are much preferable
to the money-lending dens which abound now-a-days, and which businesses, so-called,
only thrive themselves in many instances out of the exorbitant and extortionate /tcs
that needy and unwary applicants are swindled out of. It is a pleasant thing, I
know, when one can rid themselves of trouble at any time and under ordinary circum-
stances, but it must be infinitely grander still to be enabled to bundle it up, and get it
changed for cash deposits. Such is the case, however, for I can see folks with worn
and weary faces, patiently \\'aiting their turn at the door, with bundles of all shapes
and sizes, and then after a time come away without them, nervously grasping the
much required change. It is good to see some of them come away, with a happy
glitter in the eye and a lightness in the step that contrasts greatly with their previous
moods. I have often watched them walk away thus, sometimes, indeed, joining a
friend in waiting, and the pair smiling gladly at the knowledge of possession. O, this
mone;y ! what it can both do and undo ! It is with great jjleasure I sometime revel
in the hope of a cheaper and commoner commodity for purposes of existence, in the
future sphere to which we are undoubtedly accredited. But there, I must not digress ;
on and away they go with the money upon their various errands — some maybe to
comfort a poor sick sufferer, some to prepare nourishment for the toiler, some only to
hand over the money in settlement of rent or some other obligation, and some others
to spend it in a drunken spree. You can very easily sort out the drunken class, by
one or other of the several distinctive badges or "trade marks " peculiar to them,
for it is characteristic of them that they make little effort to disguise their identity ;
and, as a matter of fact, I have very often seen them in the open streets actually and
unblushingly doffing coats, skirts, shawls, shoes, &c., and carefully bundle them up,
preparatory to disposing of them, for the pittance that the broker in his discretion
cliooses to lend. When things get to that pass, it needs very little discernment to
know that the Drink is having its innings, and it often happens in such circum-
stances that those who drink freeest of the spoil, will finisli the day's carousal by
thrashing tlie spoiler. How else, indeed, could it be otherwise ? for it is undeniable
that as a rule the chief actors in such orgies, have also immoral tendencies apart from
drinking, and only the most depraved, vicious, or idle characters, will cling sufficiently
long to the vice to become, as it were, bold enough to push it to desperation. Thus
we see that if we would be just as we ought, it is not alone the drink that is respon-
sible for all the mischief that ensues ; for if you notice a person with good moral
character, or who is honest and hard working, indulging in a drink, you will invariably
find that, if let alone, he can attend to his business without being tainted with an
inclination for becoming either an imbecile, a criminal, or a pauper. This is the case
all tlie year round, in many thousands of instances, and there is very little justification
for the attacks made upon moderate drinkers as a body, for they will most favourably
compare witli any body of total abstainers of equal number, for either virtue, charity,
or respectability. It is true, however, that the indictments always flow from an inter-
ested or j)rejudiced source, which cannot, tiierefore, be accepted as arguments ; for,
besides being entirely unjust, they are in point of fact as misleading as they are un-
warrantable. It must be understood that there is no evidence to support the
rii^hteousness of total abstinence over moderation, which is half .so convincing as that
which supports the righteousness of moderation, in the fact " that every night, through
122 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
all the year round, the most respectable, honest, and hard working of our
citizens, together with thousands of the best wives and mothers, can consistently
and beneficially use it without abuse, or to the neglect of their obligations.
Tons of statistics cannot overcome this honestly plain and palpable fact.
If you desire to trace this argument in its entirety, just ask any experienced Detective
the Life Story of a drunkard, and you will hear of vicious and rakish tendencies before
the drink, at least seven times out of every ten. A law to prevent thieves, prostitutes,
and criminals of that class, from frequenting any licensed house or drinking bar,
would do more towards sobering the community than all the preaching and raving
possible. The Detective knows as he passes in and out of the pawnshop, or the drink
shop, which is the depraved and which is the unfortunate customer. A guilty career
seldom can pass unseen ; it may for a time evade, but it is only a question of time
after all. A good thing to remember always is, that those who pay little or no regard
to their own character and capital, will never care to regard other jDeople's ; and so it
is very often far preferable to cultivate a lo^'e of your own company onlj', than to have
connections with such worthless trash. I jDositively hate loungers, and unhesitatingly
vote them a great public nuisance idling about, their chief hobby being to hang upon
other peo2:)le's sympathy or simplicity. I know it is not right to hate anj'^one, the
instinct within us of right and wrong is sufficient to tell lis so much without any
Bible ; but when men will so far forget themselves as to be always moping and preying
like brutes upon their fellows, for the contemptible purpose of easily swindling them
out of their hard-earned money, whilst they themselves never try, or care to earn one
cent by their labour, I cannot help hating them. And so it is ; a man cannot think
long without money getting mixed up in his thoughts. Whoever first invented money
must surely have had hard neighbours, or else there would never have arisen any
necessity for current change. That first commercial speculation did more to cause an
upset in the world than any cause or combination since, barring women. Religion and
Politics, Money and Women, have everything at stake. It is greatly conducive to
serious reflection to notice how easily and thoughtlessly men as a rule can blame
women for the mishaps of life, when we know them to be in reality the dearest and
truest helpmates that ever mortal man possessed. This is not easily nor creditably
to be accounted for, and although I may be lajdng myself open to the charge of
partialitj', I really must say a few words in defence of women. Things have gone
very wrong indeed with a man, when he thus forgets his due to womankind, and I am
curious enough to imagine that if poor women laid claim to one half of man's vindictire-
ness, the time would not be far distant when it would be " God help poor men." How
prone is man to take advantage of a woman's weakness, and yet how prone is woman
to forgive after all. Is it not a shame indeed that man's superior strength should be
arrayed against the innocent arts and devices of inoffensive woman ? How grand it
is to witness, not to mention enjoy, the loving devotion and cheering influence of a
pure and noble woman. In times of strength and jjrosperity we are only too apt to
think lightly of the tender sex, but just watch carefully, how, when the crash of mis-
fortune comes upon us, what a true, trusty, and invaluable friend we possess in a
beloved mother, wiie, or sister. And then again, is it not ten thousand pities to see
this sex, the mainstay of our existence in fact, from whom we select our partners and
helps, often in large numbers, and amongst the lower classes increasing alarmingly,
led and reared in vice and sin at very tender ages. It cannot be the drink that is
responsible for this ; if the truth must be stated, and the sooner we face it the better,
it is the laxity of morals we display, and a total disregard of correction, and real pride
we evince, that in great measure must be blamed for such a state of things. How
else indeed can we account for the abomination ? The recent revelations of Modern
Babylon were not one whit too strong in depicting the lustful carnality of the age,
and it is certain that if only half the truth was told of the trafficking in immorality,
it is truth to say that the public would not believe it. I have no desire, as some
writers have, to pander to an unfair spirit of class jjartiality by condemning the higher
orders, for it is of no use, and it would not advance the interests of morality one tittle
to do so. In spite of the strong statement lately volunteered by a Lancashire operative
deputation to the Home Secretary, " That the conditions imposed upon v:or]cpcople,
and cspeciaUij females, hy factory cmpjloyers, in continuiwj a system of mixinf/ sexes
in hot rooms where it is necessary for Loth to v;ork half naked, is conducive to
immorality," which is certainly true in inference if it be a fact, there yet remains the
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 123
startling and damning- evidence, that childhood and the years of puberty, exhibit very
degrading tendencies. It is not unknown among scholars, even in Sunday as well as
day schools, and this can only be accounted for by the assumption that rigorou.s
surveillance on the part of parents and teachers is neglected, and example becomes
infectious. The working classes can not rid themselves of responsibility on this head,
for they are equally guilty (if not more so) on account of greater numbers, with the
rest. High wages and reduced prices of life necessaries, together with increased
facilities for false pride and questionable amusements, seem to have developed the
lurking evil propensities of nature ; and no one dare assert to-day that there remains
in the lower orders, anything like the amount of civility, indebtedness, gratitude, and
humility, which shone out so conspicuously, and often very creditably, a few genera-
tioTis ago. So much for morality. Is it not a disgrace upon nineteenth century
civilisation that women should have to sink so low as we now see them, when even
young girls openly solicit prostitution in our streets ? Is it not a shame that the
conmion lodging houses of all our towns should contain so many of those unfortunate
fallen ones, who tvu'n there as a last resort to avoid starvation, and there lose the last
shreds of virtue and modesty that might perchance cling to them ? Is it not a shame
that our police records at Petty Sessions sliould in the main be one long string of
infamy on the part of these our sisters 1 And is it not a shame that our prisons should
have to hold so many of these victims to a nation's bestiality ? If the Law that
establishes prisons only employed its resources in establishing a Code whereby it
became penal to have suspicion of character verified, and also in providing
Refuges for homeless and ill treated females, there would soon be an improvement.
There is no denying tliat to a certain extent the Law, recognising this sin of
fornication as a necessary evil, has grown more lax in repressive measures, until
finally we are overrun with it and its attendant evils. It is high time, indeed, that
women, the same ns men, should be allowed also the privileges of training for special
work, so as to grasp advantages that may render them in time secure from the
dominant association of any mean, dissolute, or criminal connection. There are
those, undoubtedly, who fancy that if such were the case, our homes would suffer,
but in my opinion such a fancy is utterly ridiculous. Women know very well that
in neglecting our comfoit they increase their own discomfort, and I suppose that
however learned they may become, they would remain, materially, women still.
Before closing this paper, and seeing that I have drifted thus far from my
starting-place, I will just say one or two words concerning a question that has often
occasioned much comment in recent years, namely, the withdrawing of Grocers' Licences
to sell intoxicants. I have tried hard to consider this c[uestion carefully, and cannot
resist coming to the conclusion that if grocers have invested their money in a lawful
business, and in a lawful manner, and if they conduct that business lawfully, it seems
to me a sheer act of confiscation to deprive them of their licenses, at anyone's bidding,
without a reasonalile compensation. To my mind, no other c(mclusion is possible,
and altiiough drunkenness is deplorable enough in all seriousness, yet it will not do to
match sentiment against honesty and fair play. It must not be assumed that all
rights are on tlie side of sentiment, for they are most certainly not ; and it very
often occurs that sentiment has revolutionary tendencies. It has been said that
these licenses promote drunkenness in women, but this is in reality — as a rule — not
the fact, for it is asserted that according to the returns of Petty Sessional cases, not
one of every twenty female dnmkards, are proved, or known to have got their drink at
such shops. Neither is there any proof that such shops create a taste or pander to it,
but it could be proved that very often, indeed, they present oj)portunities for
respectable women to purchase this requisite in a proper and becoming business fashion,
safe from contamination. The majority of dixmken women are loose or abandoned,
whom we always know where to find, and who get their drink where they cannot buy
groceries, and where they don't expect to do. Therefcu'e, having, as I think, travelled
pretty considerably since the commencement of tiiese remarks, and having no doubt
whatever but thatmany will consider me, in wnne instances, rather wide of my argument,
I leave you to decide upon it. A settled conviction imjjrcsses iiie that I can never
hope to please everybody, and so I never intend to try to do ; but as I have handled
each sul)ject lK)nestly, and according to my lights, I trust sincerely that I may give
no olfence, in spite <>i tlie truism i take as my title, which, translated means, that
truth often causes hatred.
l24 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
Ueftftin' t' 1Rew /IBa^or tut' Cburcb.
Come, stir thi, my lass, if tha can,
Tha knows 'at I mumiot be late,
An haar sin at first tha began,
Tha seems as tha'd just geet agate ;
Ise ne'er manage up tut' Taan Hall,
Unless I can put on a spurt ;
I've to wesh me, an' dress me, an' all,
Beside chantjin' flannel an' shirt.
Just look at aar Jacky's new whim.
He's pushed mi clein front off at chair,
Ise t'hev to be stricter wi' him.
He's woss nor a cat I declare ;
So hand me them shoon ovver here.
An' find me mi collar stud, too,
I only feel useless an' queer.
So push thisel forrad, nah do.
Fasten this collar, if tha will,
For raylee I'm fitted for nowt,
If I don't ged off sooin I'll be ill,
An' I wodn't miss t' walkin' for owt.
Nah brush mi new hat, theer's a lass.
An' gie me mi walking-stick, too ;
Just stir, while I look intut' glass.
By gum ! mi owd daisy, Ise do.
Tell Jacky to ged off at step,
Soas I can goo aat on mi way ;
His face is as red as a hep,
Through what he's a wan tin' to say.
He fancies Ise tak' him wi' me
A marchin' int' ranks, I declare ;
Dost think as I'm lettin' folks see
A " monkey up stick " after t' Mayor ?
By gow ! but ther's plenty o' folk.
An' Riflers, an' Pleecemen, an' all ;
Musicianers too, 'boon a joke,
Just framin' in order to fall.
I wodn't hev missed sich a seet,
An' nah I'll not leave 'em int' lurch
I'll follow them top-nobs int' street.
An' join int' procession tut' church.
Theer's t' childer, just landed wi't wife,
An' t' new married couple next dooar
Sich craads I ne'er seed in mi life,
Ther's double as coom t' time befoore.
I might as weel do it quite grand.
An' keep up tut' Mayor if I can ;
No better a chap lives int' land —
He looks ev'ry inch like a man.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 125
Theer's t' Parliment members beside,
An' Caancil chaps, polish 'd as steel ;
Theer's t' Aldermen, puffed up wi' pride,
An' t' Lampleeters walkin' as weel.
I'm fond of a gradely turnaat.
An' I fancy we look up to snuff ;
Although but for mc bein abaat,
. They might hcv looked badly enough.
Theer's t' bugler saandin' his note.
An' t' drum gies a regilar bang ;
Then like a "Great Eastern" afloat
We start vvi' a musical clang.
I hardly dare look to one side.
Mi collar's that stiffen'd wi' stai'ch ;
But as straight as a gaslamp wi' pride,
I like a bold Briton did march.
Mi walkin'-stick stuck in a hoil.
An' it brak' as I strided along ;
Mi blood it set on to a boil
To notice 'em laughin' int' throng ;
But I marched wi' t' stick handle in hand,
An' tried to look same as nowt wor,
When a hoss, as geet startled wi' t' Band,
Just made me soas I dussn't stir.
Them gentry as walked next to me
Kept shaatin' for me to ged on,
But I felt noan so wishtul to be
AVeel slatted and trampled upon ;
So I hurried misel' aat o' t' rooad,
An' mi hat tumbled daan ontut' flooar
Misfortune oft comes in a load.
An' pitched me heidfirst at a dooar.
A lump just as big as mi fist
Arose on my heid in a crack.
An' varry soon then I geet hiss'd,
An' wished in mi haase I wor back.
Yo' talk aljaat laughter an' fun
I caused 'em wi' my sorry pass.
But all mi ambition wor gone.
So sharp I i)iked off wi' t' owd lass.
Int' church that unfortunate morn,
While t' Parson wor readin' his prayer,
A misrable figure, foi-lorn.
Set liurdeii'd at hooam wi' care ;
But nah its a good while ago.
An' noab'dy's no reason to search
Ab to haa, when, or wheer, yo' know,
I walk'd wi' t' New Mayor tut' Owd Church.
126 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
Bles5e& .foments.
When the shades of ni"-ht are falling
And the work of day is done,
When the Memory is recalling
Hopes departed or begun ;
There is magic in that hour
Which dispels the inward gloom,
Making Home a fairy Bower
Where the Love-light does illume.
When we trace again the History
Of the period gone before,
When we know we've solved the Mystery
Tliat can never haunt us more.
Then, perchance a source of profit
Unto each one may accrue,
If we take a lesson off it
In the Gloaming's brief review.
Blessed moments ; sad and aching
Though at times they prove to be,
Still their influence keeps waking
Chords of tenderest HaiTnony.
O, if such could only linger
In our work-a-day concerns,
Love would be the welcome Ringer,
Yieldincf as our Manhood earns.
** Wci Gratia;'
A Christmastide Reminiscence,
A hard, untliankful life is the life of a tramp. In this happy land, as in every
other, there are many people whose fort\ine or misfortune, leads them or drives
them, into what is not incorrectly described as a career of vagaliondage. or a life
on the tramp. Years ago it was my misfortune — bereft of parents' care — to be
living a life on the tramp. Why I tramp'd I knew not, and where I tramp'd I cared
not, so long as I might keep body and soul together, and ultimately find a settlement.
I was only a youth, and though too often in extreme danger and inured to hardsliip,
yet I had occasionally tasted the sweets of life and the comforts of a settled home.
True, it never had been my own home, and only too often indeed did I feel it, and bear as
bravely as I could with the contending influences. Yet even those varying jieriods
of content I remembered keenly as happiness indeed, and the hope of at some time,
however distant, finding again a haven of rest, sustained my spirits wonderfully.
Somehow or other, in all my wanderings I seemed ever to make towards a seaport,
and on the occasion under notice I was bent upon reaching Hull. Why, I cannot
say, only that the sea connection in my idea offered a better chance of employment.
What I really knew of seafaring was next to nothing, but impressed somewhat by
reading stories of adventure, I expected in some way or othei' to meet with an opening of
good luck. So I plodded along, hungry and weakly for want of nourishment, my bare feet
encased in an old pair of shoe-tops from which the soles had entirely departed, but which
I retained and wore as some excuse for decency. The rain had fallen incessantly all
the day, and on until midnight, when it cleared away, and the moon shone mit most
brightly, lighting up the distant Humber, and acting as a beacon to my path. I was
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 127
thoroughly saturated, and presented a woe-begone appearance, I dare say, for nay
heels being blistered and sore, they bled freelj% and I had not even a rag to cover
them. The previous night I had slept underneath a wall on the roadside near Selby,
as I could not proceed further in my lame state ; and I could not beg for the life of
me, fearing to meet the consequent scowls, refusals, and unjust criticisms, which
follow the act. But in some degree I could tell when I saw a kindly person, and such
I asked relief from, and consumed it as I got it. However, I pulled myself along,
feeling as though I should drop every minute almost, until I reached the Hessle road,
Hessle is but a few miles distant from Hull, and being a nice level country,
the highway served as a kind of promenade for pedestrians, and seats of
a garden pattern were ranged at convenient distances from each other
alongside the causeway en route. From other tramps I had learned that it was Hull
pleasure fair on the morrow, anc so when a policeman met me pushing along, and
asked my business, I replied that I was for Hull fair, and inquired the nearest way to
the ground. Of course he directed me, and ordered me also to hurry indoors as soon
as I could ; so, very tired and wretched I limped along. I did not get much further
before I stopped to rest on one of the seats provided, and gazing away o'er the wide
expanse of water beyond, I bemoaned my lost and desolate condition. I could have
slept soundly, wintry and wild though it was, but prudence forbade ; and so rousing
myself witii a great effort, I again hobbled on. I reached the town at last, but; not
knowing my way about, I wandcjred up street and down street, lost entirely. Of
course, all streets were alike to me then, for I did not care where I was if I could
only find shelter imtil morning. But of shelter I saw no hope, and tired out, although
the moon was shining brightly, in despair I crept into an alley, and fell down on the
cold frozen flags, thoroughly worn out. I might have slept an hour or so when I
awoke and looked about me. It must have been the intense cold that disturbed me,
for it seemed to have reached to my bones, but shivering all over, I managed to get
up, and shuffled away. Two policemen were at the street corner, so, thinking to be
directed to the Fair-ground, I enquired of them the way. As bad luck would have it,
one of them was he I had encountered on the highway, so he gruffly threatened me
with gaol if I did not clear off at once. I turned sadly away, and after rambling
about for some time, I saw a light froni a fire over a wall close by, and I asked the
man who stood by — a watchman — to let me sleep in his hut until morning. I was
crying bitterly then, and being frightened, and beyond further exertion, I must have
looked a pitiable spectacle indeed. He instantly assented, and helped me over the
wall ; then spreading some old mats on the floor near the fire, he bade me sit down
and have some remains of his supper to eat. But indeed I was past eating, and even
whilst he was yet talking, I had dropped down and was fast asleep. He awoke me
in the morning when his time had expired, so eating the few mouthfuls of food that
he offered me, I thanked hiin and hobbled out once more. The old mats on which I
had slept having been damp, my joints and limbs were as stiff as could be, having
also had my wet clothes on ; and what with my lame feet and my aching joints, with
my miserable prospects, my condition may be much better imagined than described.
All through that day I wandered about like a lost wretch as I was ; and
when darkness again came on, I felt that I must either beg or die before morning.
Seeing a benevolent-looking gentleman, I plucked up courage and asked him to assist
a poor lame stranger boy who was in the greatest need. He replied very kindly, and
after bestowing a few coppers on me advised me at once to find lodgings and get to
bed ; adding that it was his duty to arrest beggars, being a member of the detective
force. I took his advice, sought out cheap lodgings, and hastened inside. Paying
threepence for a bed, I was first ushered into the backroom of the house, which was
set apart for lodgers and furnished for their convenience. Round the room was a
high-backed seating, crescent shaped, the centre falling backwards and the ends
approaching inwards. The right centre and the arms were the seats of honour, and
generally occupied l)y those who had most eloquence or audacity. A way behind the
settee led to the tables, and over these and around the room were the shelves for food,
and no responsibility was to attach to the landlady of the house, as, of course,
cliaractcrs of every degree constituted the assembly, and she could n<it be expected to
spend her time in looking after them. There were altogether aliout thirty lodgers of
both sexes in tlie house, some few of them toiling daily at regular w(irk, but lodging
in .such a place for the sake of mixing with, and enjoying, the society of adventurous
,128 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
tramps and outcasts of every description. One of them, who turned out to be a
quack doctor, noticing my distress, kindly provided me with some clean hot water to
bathe my feet in, and wrapped my heels in some clean c,a-eased rags ; offermg me also
some bread and milk afterwards, which I vi^ry gladly accepted, and which in fact con-
stituted my only refreshment for that day. A big, warm, roaring fire made the place
quite comfortable, and on the mantel over the fire were ranged ready for individual
use, a ([uantity of small tin tea-urns, in every degree of cleanliness from a brightly
burnished gloss, down to 'a thick sooty coating. I then went to bed, sleeping by
invitation with the quack doctor, who seemed to fancy me as being likely to prove
less troublesome than any other bedmate. Both sexes undressed and slept m the
same rooms, and beyond the more modest female who undressed in the dark, that was
the only exception to the rule. For myself I didn't trouble much about such a cir-
cumstance, although I had some misgivings at first about my bedmate ; but being too
wearied for much reflection, I was soon soundly asleep. I afterwards learnt that any
one could have a bed to themselves for a trifle extra, which plan gave great satisfac-
tion. I slept heartily during the night, and was much benefited by it ; and so, after
attending once more to my heels and redressing them, I partook of a few mouthfuls of
breakfast, and hobbled at my leisure during the day around the docks. I managed
to live on for some time by the generous help of a friend, to whom I had written, and
who forwarded me a remittance by return. When I was able to walk comfortably,
and • my heels were better, my money being exhausted, I turned out to seek some
labouring work at the docks. But my hopes were speedily dashed, and I could not
get any on any terms, as, it being severe weather, the rivers were frozen and work
was very scarce. So I managed as best I could, doing some little service at my
lodgings now and again for a meal, and doing without when I could get none. To
add to^my distress, I had been unable to pay my lodging money for a few nights, and
I knew that such a state of things couldn't last ; so I worried and fretted considerably,
until the days passed on, and Christmas Eve came round at last. I shall never forget
that Christmas Eve whilst I live, for I truly expected the landlady to turn me adrift,
seeing that I could not pay my way, and I was then indebted to her for several nights.
I had tasted nothing at all "that day, and felt naturally very faint, but
fearful of being outside in the bitter cold and fog. I determined at all
hazards to remain indoors as late as I possibly could, whatever might be
my ultimate fate. Some idea may be formed of my predicament when I
mention that, sickened at the sight of more fortunate people returning cheerfully
with their stocks of provisions and good things for the morrow, I had seriously con-
templated the possibility of ending my despair in committing suicide. It was a
desperate resolve I know, and wicked ; but indeed I had scarcely the heart to live,
for I was thoroughly nauseated with misery and woe. One thing I could not account
for, and that was that everyone seemed to be cheerful as could be, although some of
them I knew had very little indeed to be cheerful over. By the time that all were
assembled, it had got eight o'clock, the time when the landlady usually collected her
money ; and I was studying the matter over whether by slipping out unobserved I
•might avoid the being driven out, when the door opened suddenly and she appeared.
Behind her walked a couple of men, each having hold of a basket full of rich Christmas
loaves cut in halves, which they placed in the centre of the room ; whilst she made
her way right to the hearth, where she turned and faced the company. The sight alone
unnerved me, for I thought the old lady had given them permission to try to sell a
seasonable commodity, and I inwardly bewailed my unhappy lot. However, there was
then no help for it, if such was the case, as repinings could do no good, and tremulously
I awaited the course of events. Expecting to hear her voice making the accustomed
demand upon all to "fay up," I tried to calm myself to meet the unlucky inevitable.
But, Cod be praised, it was not to be ; for, standing in renowned Yorkshire fashion before
the fire, she wished us everyone, old and young, in her dear old Irish voice andgesture, "^4
Merry Christriuis," and many of 'em ; inviting each one present at the same time in
the heartiest of tones, to partake of the Christmas cheer at her expense. _ It was also
intimated that anyone who cared could have a pint of beer free in addition. And
then such a joyful cheer rose up to Heaven for her kindly and timely assistance. As
for me, I was thoroughly unmanned, and would have nothing whatever until I had
seen her and explained my position ; so following the good woman into the passage
privately, I told her as earnestly as I could the true facts of the case, and asked her
I
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 129
to allow me to be indebted to her for one more night. The bliss of that next moment
I'll never forget, for, looking at nie in a kind mutlierly fashion, she put her hand into
mine, and with tears in her eyes replied, " (Jod help ye, my lad, it's all right,
darling,"' telling me that it was an annual custom of hers to treat all
her lodgers to a, free nitjht and (jood cheer upon Christmas Eve ; and, she continued, whilst
patting me on the side of my head, "Go inside lad, go inside ; you're somebody's jioor
bairn, (jo and viakr ycrsel comfortable, an' God be wid ye," and hurried herself into
her own room. Cynics may sneer if they vi ill ; but just at tliat moment I felt so
truly happy and so blest that I was rendered speechless, for they were the very
kindest words I had heard for a long time. Tears were in my eyes, and I could not
keep them back, try as I would ; and what with the choking sensation in my throat,
and the relief to my mind, I was powerless. But I could not go inside just then for
the world, so when she had gone into her own room, I went out into the yard behind,
and cried like a child for very joy. I felt that (iod had extended His grace to me,
and that he had proved to a poor helpless outcast a Friend indeed. Ye who are
heavy laden and bowed down with trouble, never despair ; for this pi'oves that the
Almighty taketh note of you. Then I went inside, and ate and drank my share with
the rest, sang as lively as any of them, sang from my heart for joy ; and amongst all that
lot, hearty and happy though they were, none of them I know were more truly happy
than I. My tears were chased away, my sorrow had flown, my heart had grown
light, and — like a bee humming amongst that rough and ready tlirong — I spent a
contented, happy, and thankful Christmas time. I cared nothing for my rags indeed,
I thought nothing of my sad plight ; such things seemed as nothing then, compared
to the great end gained in enjoying a Cliristmas Eve as of yore. My rags were bad
enough, God knows ; but what mattered rags, indeed, in Poverty Hotel, where
there was scarcely an exception to the rule 'I No one present went short of food or
comfort on that night, I can vouch ; for happiness in a measure is contagious, and
each one tried in a simple fashion to forget dull care. And then later on, whilst the
Christmas bells were ringing, and thi'ough the streets the choristers went singing — •
when peace reigned supreme, and all tlie assembly lounged cozily around the
hearth, some smoking, and all listening to the ready stories from some one or
another of bygone Christmas associations — the tears of some, and the murmurs
of others, told plainly enough of a holy, soothing, and cheerful influence ;
and although in many other places and around other hearths, the celebration miyht
have been more robust and inspiriting, yet to me one of the happiest Christmas Eves that
ever I spent, was that amongst the dregs and drones of society in the " paddin can."
Ye who have not suffered so extremely cannot imagine such a state of mind. I felt
renewed as it were, and when midnight arrived and the last chime had struck clear,
I hurried out of the house cheerfidly to again traverse the docks, and see if any vessel
had arrived for unloading. As good luck would have it — and it often comes in lumps —
a large ship from Hamburg was just being moored ; so along with several
other poor fellows, I got started to work at once. That was the turning point, and
cheerfully I toiled away, and put in as many hours as I could reasonably manage, in
overtime as well. I wanted no more tramping, for I had had enough of such a life,
and I felt determined that if it were possible to realise the necessary expenses for the
purpose, I would return to my native village, and find work and shelter amongst the
l)eople whom I knew. I was fortunate enough to secure a full month's work here and
there amongst the shipping, and afforded myself such apparel as my circumstances
allowed. I settled with my generous hostess for so much as she would accept, but
not one peimy piece would she receive for my indebtedness during Christmas week ;
for, as she feelingly observed, I was at liberty to consider the same as a gift. And in
return for her kindness I have endeavoured ever since to remember substantially the
wretched waifs of outcast Inunanity, and sometimes I am fain to imagine with a
similar result. At any rate, I returned to my native village, was successful in
my desires, and before so very long afterwards, had come to learn to forget
on occasion, the unutterable perils and privations, I had found during my
wanderings, to be inseparable from the life and condition of a " tramp."
Such an experience is not inspiriting I know, but whenever Christmas comes
round, I am forcibly reminded of that time, many years ago, when my misery was
so crushing, and emancipation so unexpected, but which surely gave evidence of the
Grace of God.
130 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
%ovc.
What is love ? Is it a thing
To gather, or to choose l
To cither find or lose ?
And to order, or to bring 1
Do you deem it something bom
Of artificial aid ?
An article of trade, •
And of higher glamour shorn ?
Do you fancy Love can flow
In measure or demand,
Or that you can command
Either touch, or taste, or glow ?
Is it something you can check
Or quicken as you will ?
To create, or to still.
And to hinder, or to beck ?
Has Philosophy a guage
Its eloquence to sound ?
Or can a thouglit profound
Its dominance assuage ?
Is it ever bought or sold
For cash, or style, or place 1
Can you equal its grace,
Or define it, young or old ?
Have you once felt its power.
And known its kindling rays,
That brighten'd darkest days,
And cheered the lonely hour ?
Has it sparkled through your soul,
Or aroused you with its fire ?
Has it purified desire.
And yet magnified the goal ?
Has it made you more refin'd.
And caused you to be good-
To live just as you should.
More careful of your kind 'i
Or whence, or how, or reason,
True Love has Honour's place.
It animates our race.
Or high, or low, or season.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 131
H Smiling face.
When a friend I meet, upon the street,
Who shows a sniilitig face,
When I come to stand, and grasp his hand.
Or fervently embrace,
There's a wondrous spell, T cannot tell,
Possesses me awhile.
For the friends are few, I count as true
With glad sunshiny smile.
There's a something nice, that in a trice,
Goes straight unto the heart.
And the loving act, proclaims that fact.
Where words could not impart.
Should a man deceive, and in his sleeve,
True innocence beguile,
Yet the traitor's eye, will oft belie,
His self-complacent smile.
There's a genial glow, does ever flow,
Within an honest breast.
And it seems at once, to give response,
And set the mind at rest.
How I do enjoy, or man or b(jy,
In greeting him the while.
To denote the truth, of friendship's youth.
And win his cheery smile.
Then howe'er you be, take this from me,
Or whether late or soon.
Do the best you can, to prove a man,
For friendship is a boon.
Ever cTiltivate, this happy state.
Be high or low your style.
That a loving friend, until the end.
May greet you with a smile.
five /Hbinutes wntb a **/lDe&ium."
It is not often that I trouble myself about mediums or familiar spirits now-a-days,
for those whom I have hitherto encountered in the "professional" line have never
conducted themselves as became desirable acquaintances ; but an old friend of
mine, named Mr. Bowdle, got so mixed up with them that ultimately Spiritualism,
with all its evils and phenomena, settled on his brain. I do not mean to infer
that Spiritualism is an evil, because I am not so positive upon that point, but
without a doubt the clap-trap and humbugging manifestations which are believed
in by the common people in connection therewith, I do heartily denounce as an
imposition and a nuisance. The affinity of loving spirits, the influence of .sacred
memories, and the inspiration of reminiscences, are circumstances that I acknowledge ;
Ijut tliese are another thing entirely from the glaring and often bungling manifestations
of the jiresiiit day ; and however my friend had embraced sucli notions surpassed
my understanding. He was far from >)eing an ignorant man, although a little
peculiar upon certain doctrines and beliefs ; and at the same time was moderately
well-to-do, whicli made his conversion more remarkable still. This will be best
un<lerstood when T explain that, f)n account of his wealth, his hospitality was taxed
consideraVily by the fraternity, who travilled professionally from ])lace to place, and
rerpiired housing. I liave often wondered at this trait in thc:ir character, since
all are afFected by it ; the couunon blight of impccunioKity, like some distinguisliin
brand, claims inediumship as its very own. 1 had made sqnie little acquaintance
e>
132 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
with one or two members of tliat ilk, and was not, therefore, entirely ignorant of
their pretensions and peculiarities, which I thoroughly appreciated at their proper
value ; at any rate, from my point of view, In fact, I liave received more than one
invitation to private Seances, as tiieir experimental sittings are tenned, and I must
confess, seeing that " trutli is the only flower that never decays," that never but once
was anything done by any medium that was either startling or uncommon in any degree.
The exception was in the case of a so-called Medium, who was described as an
illiterate country blacksmith from the Border neighbourhood. Whether that
description was correct I cannot say, but as to his ability " under influence," there
could scarcely be two opinions. I cannot think of liis name, as it is some years since ; but
I can say this, that in a very quiet way, I tried by conversation and social chat to
discover off-hand what art he possessed. But I could not manage it, for he was very
reserved and shy in his remarks ; so, as his quiet silence was too much for my
inquisitiveness, I perforce had to content myself with observing his stolid
demeanour and guise. He was young, sallow-looking, and very humbly dressed ;
and although I could gather little enough of his history, beyond that he was married
and slightly consumptive, there was that about him which betrayed very clearly a
studious disposition. Ho\vever, he showed little polish, and certainly, unless it was
his part to play, was wanting in even the commonest civilities. His " business " was
to give "Trance Orations," and upon any subject put to him, at a moment's notice.
The chosen topic on the occasion imder notice was a classical one, dealing with
ancient history ; and whether he was in a trance or no, his handling of the subject
for an hour was uncommonly surprising and able. His language was eloquent and
cultivated, but I remember very well the sensation that unconsciously overtook me at
the close, to the effect that if I liked, and possessed nerve enough to sham inspiration
and to keep my eyes closed. I felt that I could play a similar part, altliough not an
easy one. !My great objection to it all was that we were compelled to accept everything
without argument. This was the only drawback I could find, and I distinctly
remember that it made me as ill prejudiced after all, as if I had discovered a flaw.
But I had no real right to such an assumption, and wouldgladly have banished it had any
person present attempted to put its genuineness to the proof. However, this
case has been the only one, hitherto, where I could not clearly doubt the honesty
of the matter ; therefore, on that account, I will not show bravado enough to oppose
the point as to whether certain minds can or can not, be strongly influenced upon
occasion ; but this I do deny heartily, that certain noises, freaks, or cute applicable
words, set to mean anything or nothing are related to real Spiritualism.
Anyway, my friend Bowdle firmly believed in all these things, and by his
championship thereof, created in me and my friend Tomkins profound regret.
Certainly he could hold his own in any little argument we had, but it was in
his own way ; and a very peculiar way it \vas after all, ff)r he stoutly believed himself
surrounded with spirits, and that he was more or less subject to their influence. Thus
he grew quite restless, and a victim to the most idiotic hallucinations. Tomkins and
I, of course, were always at loggerheads with him, because we would not see things in
the same light, and fall into his views headlong.
So things w-ent thus until one day it happened that a famous Medium paid a visit
to the town, and private "circles " became, amongst that community, the order of the
day. And it happened that Bowdle invited my friend to one of these, and he went
accordingly. Now, if Tomkins had one characteristic more prominent than
another, it was in being devout, and frank in his disposition ; consequently he was
rather startled when the lights were turned down. We had previously understood
that mediums varied in capabilities, but this particular one, it seemed, professed
almost anything ; a matter which caused Tomkiiis to whisper to Bowdle " that he must
have been a blood relation to ' Old Harry. ' " However, they all clasp"d hands around
the table, and waited anxiously for the alarm, passing the time in singing, &c. ; and
after half-an-hour's patience, to his great surprise, Tomkins felt something covering
his head, and clasping his shoulders. In my friend's dilemma there was oidy one
remedy to his way of thinking, and he embraced the opportunity of earnestly and
inwardly engaging in prayer.
There is not the slightest doubt about the efficacy of prayer, experience and
expediency alike support this view, and so our friend prayed accordinglj'. But alas !
the fates were against him, and his prayers failed lamentably upon tliis occasion ;
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 133
whether or not upon account of his having wilfully joined the transgressors I cannot
say. One thing is certain, a "' smack " upon his mouth, M'hich cruelly set all his
teeth upon edge without any warning, and considerably staggered him, put an end to
his prayers instantly. WTien, in addition, some hard s\ibstance collided with his nose,
causing his terrified shriek to mingle witli other strange noises then in vogue, poor
Tomkins, thinking that his annihilation was intended piecemeal, threw up his hands
and turned on the gas, just in time to catch a malicious grin stealing o'er the medium's
phiz. But nothing more. That was enough for my friend however, and very quickly
they got to high woi'ds, and Tomkins was in a fair way to become a blasphemer, when
Bowdle interposed and enticed him homewards ; thus ending a most discreditable
transaction. It cannot be denied that an unbeliever, who is known to be stubborn,
can get grossly assaulted under the conditions imposed on such occasions. T may
here be allowed to state that this one complaint I have heard made very often
.since then ; and I declare that such brutal conduct is tantamount to stigmatising
the whole docti-ine as a huge piece of blackguardism.
But the time came at length when both I and my friends were invited to an
exhibition, and for our friend Bowdle's sake we decided to go, so that if it were at all
possiljle we might venture to expose his infatuation. .So the three of us set out
together, and duly arrived at the place where a certain notorious Medium was engaged
to illustrate the wonders of second sirjht, or clairvoyance. Tomkins and he had met
before, it seemed, somewhere, and they could not "hit it" in consequence, as my
young friend, after a warm argument, had openly dubb'd him as an imposter, Slan-
derous abuse is not argument, and I do not for one moment wish to screen my friend's
indiscretion, for I maintain that he had no right to say so much, even if he had
thought it.
The room wasquite full upon ourarrival,andconsequcntlywehadalittledifficultyin
procuring seats, but with the help of Bowdle, who was a committee-man, we managed
very comfortably indeed. Theaudiencewere mainly females, and of these a good propor-
tion were elderly ; but here and there were scattered about a few representatives of
the sterner sex, members of the committee, &c. The Medium, who was upon his feet
on the platform when we entered, noticed us going in ; and as we were rather late
and our entrance caused some little stir, we were thus unfortunate in furnishing
him with a cause of complaint against us ; and so he stopp'd the public peiformance to
tender us his private opinion. However, we didn't want to miss our opportunity, so
avoided recrimination by swallowing his insolence as best we could, and saying nothing.
We could see his purpose very plainly, and possibly he could see ours, for he did his best
to excite the people against us, and us against him, but we allowed him to keep the
excitement to himself. There was nothing singular about his appearance at all,
except we mention the clerical cut of his garments ; and as he was of middle height
and age, and tolerably good-looking, he would readily have pass'd muster with most
people as a model minister. However, there he was at his post, and it needed no
Phrenologist to discover his excitabilit}' and combativeness. He was veiy loth to
commence business, after unburthening himself even ; but there was no help for it, as
themultitudeclamouredfora commencement. His procedure was .something after the
manner of a mesmerist, throwingout his arm.s and drawing them in again with dramatic
effect ; then, with a prolonged murmur and a solemn tragic air, he subsided into an
idiotically unconscious position, after the stage maniac style ; and thus the ivo7-ds of
v;isdoin fell incoherently from his mouth. And in the name of all that is sensible
upon this earth, what tliink you was the substance of his ■endeavours ? It was nothing
more or less than a string of guess work, and surmises upon the simplest rubbish and
tittle tattle. " // the father of some one present had lived until then, he would be so old
or thereabouts ; he had such and such an appearance, and his sister had a daughter
about so old, who v:as then present at the meetinrj." He had his eye.s fixed upon a
certain woman, although his tapering fingers pointed at the whole row of women ;
and so suddenly stopping his jumble, he professed to ask one woman, although in truth
pointing to the lot, " if ani/thinf/ he had said vxis true, and did any one recoipiisc the
character he depicted.'^ The woman he was looking at spoke at once, and
very abru])tly, something to the effect that .she recognised her uncle, lately deceased,
and that there was some api)ear.ance of truth in his remarks. And tlien tiie multitude
applauded and cheered, as thougli some marMjllous revelatiun had been made, insteiid
of a piece of gues.s work, &c., upon some notoriety that was common property, easily
134 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
obtained, and certain almost to be part correct even if haphazard. I felt ashamed
indeed, for tlie whole thing from a rational standpoint was simply ridiculous, and
nothin;,' whatever but what would liave passed muster as gossip's chat, was ever intro-
duced either naturally or scientifically for our advancement.
Tomkins was not going quietly to allow such a demonstration without urging his
protest ; and he rose at once to put a question to the Medium upon the point, but no
sooner did he attempt his purpose, than the committee were appealed to, to support
their i-epresentative ; and he was sternly requested .to keep silence. And so it would
have ended, but Bowdle and I, thinking that a civil (juestion deserved a civil answer,
taking our friend's part, the connnittee tl^en, in consideration of Bowdle's position,
agreed to let the matter be discussed, if the Medium would consent. But, as the saying
goes, the Medium's "blood was up," and charging us with riotous intentions, he
declined to proceed either to discussion or any other business. I never saw anyone so
mucli agitated as he was ; to any ordinary person sucli excitement was dangerous, but
to such as he, it liazarded danger and disgrace. But he stuck to his text however ;
and nothing would content him but our summary dismissal from the premises, which
he must have known was a very safe jjlan to adopt. This settled the matter at once,
for some of the company having come considerable distances on purpose to hear him,
did not relish the idea of having a night wasted, and so they supjiorted the motion for our
e viction. So there was really no help for us, and we received the order to disappear,
which not being inclined to obey so readily, we were haided forth by the rougher
element, and very quickly got hurried into tlie street.
And to call such work as that Spiritualism, why it is the most senseless and
idiotic tomfoolery tliat ever received public recognition. How can it be construed
into a religion at all ? And what is its purport ? The wonder is that people will
encourage such a mockery of common sense, for it could not survive calm criticism.
It is no more Spiritualism in reality than is legerdemain, and not h.alf so warrantable,
because of its entire uselessness. It is debasing in its tendencies, and how it can be
sustained at all, depends greatly on the frivolity of human nature. We were certainly dis-
gusted with what we saw of it, liut what new freaks were developed in our absence
we cannot say. However, Mr. Bowdle never forgave them the insult put upon him by
ejecting his friends, and very greatly to his credit he left them entirely. Time after
time they tried to excuse themselves and persuade him to return, but all to no purpose;
and the news arriving shortly after of the arrest and conviction of the same "Medium,"
as a rogue and vagabond, and his subsequent imprisonment for three months with
hard labour, drove the last nail into Bowdle's heresy and completed his emancipation.
True, his discomfiture happened in another town ; and more honour to
them, say I, for their superior discernment, althoiigh his accusers were termed his
traducers. Call this business by any other name, but out of respect for our enlightened
intelligence, do not say that it is Spiritualism. It is just possible, indeed, that there
might have been sometliing more and deeper in it than what we discovered, but if so,
it is not our fault in neglecting to remark upon it, since we were not permitted to see
it ; but whether there be or not, I have not the slightest desire to see repeated the
too utterly absurd and ridiculous demonstrations we then witnessed, in that well-re-
membered " five minutes with a medium."
H Straigbt Hppeal.
A GOSPEL STORY.
There — the wretched woman stood,
By Pharisees arraign'd — •
Vilest of that neighbourhood —
With guilt and evil stain'd.
Steep'd in misery and sin.
And weighted with despair,
Not a friend had she to win
Her soul from dark despair.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 135
There — the humble Nazarene,
Whom Pharisees did fear —
Noted well the vicious spleen,
And undisguised sneer.
Thrills of deepest pity ran
Tliroun-hotit the troubled frame
Whilst His wond'rous love began
The lost one to reclaim.
Then He cast a loving glance
Upon her sullen face ;
Then the creature looked askance,
Ashamed of such disa-race.
Then did Jesus, with a word,
Her drooping spirit cheer ;
Then liis voice each Rabbi heard,
Commanding not to fear.
Soon her stern accusers spoke,
With dangerous intent,
Trusting that her bitter 3^oke
Might gainsay argument.
" There she stands," the spokesman said,
" The vilest of tlie vile ;
" Infamously born and bred,
" And never free from guile.
" There she is — the luckless wretch —
" Beyond redeeming power.
" Hast Thou evidence to stretch
" In her behalf this hour ?
" If Thou art the Son of God,
" As Tliou doth boast to be,
" And a lifetime she hath trod,
" In utter infamy.
" What sliould lia])pen unto such ?
" And what shall be her fate ?
" Hath she not deserved much
" Of punishment's estate ?
" Show us now Thj' holiness,
" The wliile lier sin is bare ;
" Prove to us Thy Godliness,
" And let the harlot hear."
Silence then did reign around
That I'harisecan Court ;
No dissentient voice was found
To qacstiou that report.
136 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
On each Phariseean face
A gleam of triumph shone ;
Such a N'ery clear case
Admitted question none.
In mocking irony they sat,
Awaiting Jesus' plea,
Contented and exultant that
No loophole could He see.
Hark ! The solemn voice was heard,
By every Rabbi tliere ;
Each one hung upon His word
With most expectant care.
" Ye Pharisees," He slowly said,
" Your duty now is plain :
" By Justice only be ye led,
" Since Mercy pleads in vain.
" See unto it, that Justice now
" Retains her judgment seat ;
"Let each with heart and voice avo'
"A Justice all complete.
•' Hear Me, therefore, every one,
" This woman's cause esjjouse ;
" And so that Justice may be done,
"Your Consciences arouse.
" Though her Sin hath found her out,
" Yet Justice should be true ;
" And so, to banish every doubt,
" I now appeal to you.
" If ye — her Judges — have no sin,
" Then woe, indeed, for her,
" But if ye are defiled within
" Then further do not stir.
" If any 'mongst you have no sin,
" She suffereth alone,
" And such an one may now begin
" To hurl at her the stone.
" But if ye know a sinful act
" For which ye should atone,
" Within yourselves admit the fact
" And leave her well alone."
He said — and each judicial mind
Such Ruling did deplore —
Since none of them could hope to find
A word against her more.
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 137
So one by one they fled away,
From out His presence then
And neither one had au'dit to sav
To baffle him acrain.
"Ir)^
Yet as they hurried each without,
All acciisation lost,
The wretched woman stared about
Considerinff the cost.
But He — the lowly Nazarene,
Remained to Duty true,
He kne^v how wicked she had been
And what remained to do.
So after each had gone away
He turned to her and said,
" Woman, even from to-day
" Be thou more wisely led.
" These Pharisees in Judgment Hall
" Thy sinfulness condemn,
" The while their Consciences appal
" And cowards make of them.
" Sinful, though indeed thou art,
" Repent thee of thy deeds,
" Choose a meeker, purer part
" More suited to thy needs.
" Love thy God, and every one
" Of all thy Neighbours too,
" As we would have all things done,
" So also we should do.
" Thy sins — though many — are forgiven,
" Tile wretched past is o'er,
" Live to earn thyself a Heaven
" Go, and sin no more."
lEutrappeC); oi% H /llbaD Salvation.
It was in 187 — that I made the acquaintance of my friend Jamieson ; and T
will say this mucli, that if ever one man had a strong regard for another, I certainly
had for my friend. When I first made his acquaintance through a mutual friend, he
held a very high and honoured })osition in the town. Having a private business that
provided him with lots r)f spare time, he devoted that time and his energies, M'ith
much assiduity, to fulluwing the vocation of an amateur missionary and philanthropist.
His exact status in that capacity I never knew, nor cared to know ; it was sufficient
13^ BEGGAR MANUSCmPTS.
for me that every person of any eminence in the neighbourhood both knew and
respected him. I believe that as a temperance worker, a local lay preacher, a visitor
of the sick, a charity dispenser, and an organiser of social meetings, he had very few
equals ; but temperance was his great hobby. Naturally such a position led him into
society, and as a consequence there were few people with whom he was not on
intimate terms. And he was certainly a creditable acquisition, for I never found any
person, old or young, rich or poor, who did not consider him as a gentleman every
inch ; but notwithstanding all this, he was a man of little education. When I speak
of little education, I allude more especially to his perceptive faculties and his judgment,
for it seemed to me that very many people who were recipients of his worth, considered
him as very much in the light and character of a pump handle ; and consequently he
was very often victimised. Large hearted, sympathetic, and impulsive, I know of a
trutli that he was no fit person either to dispense charity, or be allowed carte hlanehe
to give his manual services in any project, for he proceeded in total disregard of self-
interest. I have never since in my experience of life met another such a man, and
probably I never shall. Not yet thirty, and of serious demeanour in dress and
manners, slenderly built and rather tall, rapid gait and thin featured ; his moustache,
his smile, and his hearty hand clasp, were the only things that separated him from the
gloom which enveloped his life. However, it is not so nmch of my friend as of an
incident connected with our acquaintance that I am now about to speak. He and I
became inseparable, and thus it happened that his deeply religious character and
genial disposition, did much to promote in me an earnest desire to follow in his lines.
With this view, therefore, I improved my attendance at services of his religious
persuasion, and accompanied him to various meeting places. I cannot admit that my
record was an exceptional or even commonly dark one, so far as law-breaking
achievements went, for I had never seen the inside of a prison, and, as a matter of
fact, only a Court of Justice once or twice. But as he and I grew more companionable,
I discovered that the one thing lacking to render our friendship complete, was greater
religious interest on my part, and so, out of pure regard for my friend, and a natural
desire to act aright, I determined to cultivate it. I could not have been considered
proud, since I had certainly attained a very unselfish opinion of myself, and in my
mind resolved to become a more serious man. This is a most laudable purpose, if
only suitably and successfully carried out, but alas ! " Man proposes and God disposes."
I had begun to accompany him to his private pew upon Sundays, and was finally
prevailed upon to pay a visit to a " class-room meeting." Those of my readers who
have never attended one of these special meetings, must understand that it is a
meeting of a religious class, who are members together, in a room attached to the
chapel or school, and set apart for the purpose. This class is presided over by a
" Leader," as he is termed, who is generally brimful of habits and speech betokening
deep religious fervour. Both sexes meet in the class, and the meeting generally
consists of congratulations, hymn singing, individual prayers and praises, and fervent
ejaculations. Should any strangers attend, by invitation or otherwise, it is understood
that the class in various ways make them feel their position more or less acutely as
the case may be, and to those who attend such a meeting for the first time, as
I did upon this unlucky occasion, a strange experience is sure to await them.
That is, supposing them to be ordinary human, and not adamant. I shall
never forget that occasion whilst I live ; and although I have had many strangely
exciting and original experiences in my tijne, I always count that as one of the most
thrilling and truly impressive. From the moment of my entrance, until I made my
exit, I was made to feel the awful responsibilities of my position most intensely, and
from first one and then another, from the Leader down to the female sitting near me,
I found myself in their prayerful addresses, the wretched object of their supplicating
solicitude. I will here admit that no sooner had I got well seated inside, and taken
a rapid view of my surroundings, than I felt that I had altogether mistaken my
vocation, ajid got into the wrong place, for I always had an aversion to being attended
to and discussed from a "pious" point of view. What humility I possessed upon
entering the room, was hacked out of me in a very short time, and before so very long
indeed, I found myself burning with a mad desire to leave the place, and see their
faces no more. Tlie Lord knows how eagerly I desired peace for my soul upon
entering, but for my peace of mind I devoutly wished to be out again. All my hopes
of entering the earthly Heaven unimpressively were rudely dispelled, and yet for the
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. l39
world I would not, nor could not be bold enough to create disruption. I can very
well imagine some of my readers saying that 1 was making much ado about nothing,
but although some people might not be ruffled by such an experience, yet I have
learnt since then tliat I am not alone in my peculiarities. It is all very well indeed
to take a certain interest in man's salvation, but there can be no excuse for the excru-
ciating monotony and mono])oly developed in these wretched seances. The line must
be drawn somewhere, and the sooner and the better for morality. Entreated from all
sides to pray, I confess I could sooner have cursed, in mydilenmia. I boiled almost with
heat, and what with rage, perspiration and humility, I have no doubt but I seemed a
fit object of pity, and in need of (xrace. But sadly indeed for me, neither pity nor
grace was forthcoming, and I had to bide it out in the best way I could. Sitting
down blankly and appearing unconcerned, was altogether out of tlie question, for I
lacked the pe)wer of mimicry necessary to carry it through. Again, there is such a
thing in my composition as a love of fair play, and my feelings rebelled against the
imposition. If I iiardened myself sufficiently whilst upon my knees not to notice
them, and covered my face with my hands, they had still the advantage of me, and
the giving out a verse or two to sing, standing up, only increased my mortification.
At one time I had a man upon either side of me, and whilst one would ask insinuatingly
if I was "saved,"' the other would follow by asking me pointedly, "Would I wish to
go to Hell ?" At another time, a female would ui-je her best endeavours in bidding me
to make a good confession of my sins, whilst the voice of the Leader could be heard in
chorus, "Do it now," as if the very existence of that class depended upon my undoing ;
every sentiment expressed was supplemented by prolonged "Aniens.'^ And whilst I was
forced to accept whatever offered ; and it is only simple truth to tell, that nothing
was ever offered me of consolation that could for one moment be considered as either
friendlyorChristian sympathy. fSomefolkswithoutdoubtwillconsider that I must have
been a wicked sinner, to feel the position so painfully, but I can only retort by saying
that the whole proceedings grated harshly upon my senses, and was altogether foreign
to my expectations. According to my sentiments, there was not a vestige of true reli-
gion about it. A quiet, respectful, and contrite demeanour, in every one
present, would have appealed to my better iiature ; but for a section to presume they
were .s«r»<6-, and stood in no need of meditation and prayer, and to select me as the
^^ sinner," was neither upright, moderate, nor charitable. We all entered I supposed
upon common ground, and so I resented the bullying horse play indulged in. I know
very well indeed, how ill becoming it was to feel as I felt, upon leaving that assembly,
but when that blessed time arrived, I most sincerely wished never to enter the place
again. The lightness had been taken out of my life for the time, and although repen-
tant enough when I entered, when I left I was nearly past redemption. The numerous
hand-shakings and invitations that I received to visit them again, seemed only to my
thinking the usual artistic effusions born of a7i inordinate hankering after sport ; and the
very sheepish appearance of my too solicitous friend confirmed my suspicions
concerning the operation. He, I am sure, had never intended my undoing in that
fashion, Init I suppose the revival mania (like the dogs of war when once let loose)
does not stop at trifies. If such another experience should await me in the days
to come, and I receive the slightest warning of its proximity, I can here assure my
friends that full preparations are made for my defence. I cannot exactly account for
my repugnance to such methods, but to my mind, there seems something wholly
distasteful and out of place in vulgar intrusions upon private devotions. We are
certainly not every one alike in our nature and disposition, and it as well to remember
always tliat what is fun to some people, may be punishment to otliers. To be termed
a black slieep, a sinner, and a piodigal, is quite enough of abuse in my opinion to be
thrown at any one, but to be basted as well as roasted, is beyond human endurance.
The whole service from my standpoint was execrable, and most certainly a travesty of
the Sacred character. Wo more roasting and basting in the name of religion for me ;
for though I am a firm believer in the efflcacy of spiritual supervision, in a properand
l)ecoming spirit, I can safely say that ot(tn(r/es such as I have described are an arrant
hypocrisy, ;uid an uiunitigated canting nuisance. There is undoubtedly a great need
of civilization yet, even in this enlightened age, but I would infinitely prefer the
blight of bluntest scepticism, to the mean and'petty devicesof those peculiarpeople who
deem themselves the recipients and partakers, of what I unluckily discovered to be
after all, only a ruad salvation.
140 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
/nboDern Scepticism.
In considering this question, perhaps it will be as well to state at once that my
object is nut to discountenance religious life and eifort of any creed whatever, for
I have the deepest respect and "reverence possible for true Religion, pure and
undefiled. This is not an occasion for inquiry into the particular merits of the
various religious idioms, and therefore it will be sufficient upon that head to consider
grantedany claims that each maysetup. Seeing, then, that there will be no occasion for
bickering amongst contrary sects, I ask the calm attention of every serious and
well-minded person to the study hereof. To commence, let me state at once
that Scepticism is not Secularism, and in order fairly to demonstrate my position
and understand it clearly, I shall consider Secidarism a,s on a j>«r with
every other ism, and grant it just as much consideration. Now, it is not my province
in this essay to give a definition of true Eeligion, any more than it is to preach a new
one, and therefore I request that every thinker will apply himself strictly to the
subject under notice. I say at once, that to be a Sceptic is, in my opinion, no sin, so
•long as such Scepticism be provoked by seeming abuses or irregularity. Satisfaction
is a necessary factor in the establishment of Faith, and Faith is the backbone of
Religion ; so it occurs that Dissatisfaction is the prevailing cause of Scepticism. To
be a honest Sceptic, from a religious point of view, is at once to show and prove an
inquiring mind, and no Scepticism can be genuine that is tainted with Bigotry. The
controlling element in Scepticism is Doubt, not Disbelief absolutely and m toto ; and
a certain amount of Toleration is due as well from a Sceptic as from a Bigot, or Priest,
or Believer. It may possibly have occurred that many doubters have gone into the
ranks of opposition through sheer error of circumstances surrounding their position,
and no good end could be served by denying such a fact, but it is due to such to state,
that the sin of so doing, was perhaps more tnily one of omission than commission.
One thing is certain, and it is this : that no simple Sceptic upon any point or
trimming of religious doctrine, is justified in becoming an opponent. Defence is not
defiance," and it is plain that as no two wrongs can make one right, therefore it is that
injury is caused by seceding, and injustice by opposing. Whilst I may excuse the po.sition
of a conscientious Sceptic upon reasonable grounds, yet it must be understood that there
is no sound plea for obstinacy, since that is as reprehensible as religious Bigotry, to
say the least. My object is simply to show that there are, and have ^ been, great
reasons at work in the propagatir)n of modern Scepticism. So far from this Scepticism
being detrimental to the spread of Religion, we find that religious life itself has
progressed wonderfully in recent times, as evidenced by the increase of communities ;
and in fairness we may note that a very striking evidence in favour of honest
Scepticism, as distinguished from rank infidelity, is the fact that the children of very
many Sceptics still receive pious training in our Sunday schools. There remains,
then, the great question as to what causes have contributed towards the
development of Scepticism, and I maintain that for this growth is tke prevalence
of Cant mainly responsible. Not solely, I admit, for I confess that Intolerance and
Ignorance also have something to do with it, but perhaps nothing nearly so much.
As to whether my assertion is correct or no, I, of course, only argue ; but I feel
convinced, in my mind of this, that there is truly so little of real infidelity in the
land that I cannot claim for it importance sufficient, to warrant me in attaching much
value to its force. And, therefore, as a natural consequence, I cannot consider it as
at all comparable to such factors of Scepticism as Intolerance and Ignorance. _ Then
what shall I say of Intolerance, and in what measure is it responsible for Scepticism ?
First then, Intolerence is the natural fruit of a strained or half-hearted principle,
and in religious matters generally attaches to a schism, where class distinction or
personal jealousy predominates. It is impossible to particularise every instance that
illustrates Intolerance, but as the symptoms are patent enough to all who suffer from
it. it is unnecessary so to do. Intolerance differs greatly in its application, but
under any circumstances it is the nearest possible approach to Bigotry, and is always
lamentable. There is little or no excuse for its display and exercise, and good people
will avoid the very appearance of it ; for it is evident that no close communion or real
confidence can abide with it. Such, indeed, is its power for evil, that where ignorance
might be disposed to walk reverently in a chosen but rather hazy groove, as one may
say, the very appearance of dictation or sujjerciliousness would rouse a latent spirit
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 141
of opposition, that once feeling the infliction would chafe under the restraint, and
finally quit its presence in disgust. So much, then, for Intolerance ; and innumerable
instances of it might be noted with profit if the occasion warranted. There is never
any justification for its employment, and it enters so insidiously into doctrinal
eti«piette, that very often where it is most painfully and profusely e'/ident, the slaves
to its passion remain in ignorance of the fact. The remedy for this Intolerance is
plain, but not easy of accomplishment ; and it may easily be that there exists in it very
much of mutuality, for if the heaping coals of fire obtain on the one side, and a freezing
disregard continue on the other ; thus both parties remain strained, and mischief to
one or both must ensue. Such intolerance as is thus manifest, is decidedly certain to
provoke not alone Scepticism, but the bitterness of revolt ; and the sooner official
authority steps in, and the better for religion's sake, and for the welfare of the
community. Tliere is possibly a misconception abroad as to what really constitutes
intolerance, and it may be that occasionally, instead of there being any exhibition
of intolerance on the pai-t of the clergyman, that there exists an unreasonable
and unprofital)le expectation by certain of the flock, or even the church officials.
Whenever such is the case it cleax-ly proves that Intolerance is not confined to one
section only, and it liehoves us to be cai'eful lest we deal unjustly with innocent and
meritorious individuals. In the case of ministers of the Gospel as apart from others,
there are indeed examples showing how most cruel intolerance can be practised by
wardens, deacons, and trustees, to thegreatpainandcompleteundoing — insomecases —
of the unfortunate Pastor. I merely mention this as a proof that Intolerance is not
always one-sided, and to show that it is a very easy matter for a combination to act
unjustly towards one or two who may fairly be called estimable individuals. It is
also worthy of notice that the Faith which unbelievers deem to be the most intolerant,
namely, the Koman Catholic, yet presents to the world an union and profession where
charges of intolerance in reality are rare. And such a spectacle as this, which is
midoubtedly the case, proves a high tribute to a Church which is animated with those
holy and humble instincts so conspicuous amongst members of this ancient Faith.
It proves at once, and very conclusively also to my mind, that the great antidote and
drawback to Intolerance is to be found in Humility ; for no one can dispute that
humility and reverence, are very prominent characteristics amongst all members of
the Church of Rome. Whether or no these virtues are engendered by the diligence,
benevolence, and learning of this Priesthood, is not the question ; although personally
I am inclined to believe so ; but the facts as here stated are evident enough to all
observers. So that it is plain that it behoves us to be very careful in casting
aspersions and bitter recriminations, to the detriment of any particular person or body ;
for if we would be honest, as it is our duty to be, we must be prepared to " give and
take " somewhat in settlement of these differences. The old adage concerning " glass
houses, &c.," is always very applicable where charges of intolerance are bandied about.
Concerning iynorancc then, which is my third reason for, or cause of, Scepticism ;
there can be very lif^le doubt as to the fitness and also justice of the charge. Not
that I infer such an ignorance as might be displayed in social or political matters,'
althouiih it may occur that it is identical ; but I allude more particularly to a symptom
that is best described as irreverent, unappreciative, unfeeling, and unnatural. This
is an ignorance which is totally blind, careless, and unregardful of the real merits of
the case. It cannot be denied that many so-called Sceptics are certainly
irreverent, not alone of persons but Doctrine also ; and such being the case, nmch
unliappiness befalls, for it renders them unaj)proachable. It may reasonably be
inferred that such people are hypocritical, for they are out of sympathy with those
whom they profess to be in synipathj' with ; and in charity we cannot avoid putting
this down to Ignorance. If they knew any better, and desired God's Orace, or sovl
comfort, they could not be dangerous, seeing that sympathy alone would bind them to
right ; but knowitig better, and having no desire for reconciliation of spirit, upon
them rests the charge of Intf)lcrance. So much for the irreverent Scej)tic. That
tliere are unappreciative and unfeeling Sceptics must also be admitted, and it must be
calamitous to fall into their clutches ; for to adopt sanctimonious airs and habit for
tlie devilish purpose of creating mischief, is brutal, dishonourable, and inhuman.
Tliese are the black sheep of Religion, the wolves in sheep's clothing, the Pharisees,
and drawbacks to real religion, who would not consider themselves ignorant, but
whom we know to bo l>lindly so, nevertheless. Not alone are they blind themselves
142 BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS.
to the power of salvation, but they are powerful in leading or driving the waverers
into a similar condition, and spreading disruption thereby. To be a honest Sceptic
one must have a honest cause. It is no answer to impute motives, and profess
solicitude also ; there must exist some plain, plausible, and tangible reason for living
beyond the pale of Doctrine ; some palpable barrier to a reasonable and united Faith.
Likes and dislikes should not enter into the calculations of thoughtful, earnest
worshippers ; and it is very mean, even to absurdity, for any one with no better cause
for holding aloof, thus to damage a good cause by separation. There always will be
honest Sceptics against one or other point of Doctrine, but the man who wars with
Religion in toto,is only stemming the tide of Progress, and is verita'ily a hindrance to
the welfare of Society. There can be no honour in such work, and not much of
satisfaction either. Therefore, this is certain, that true Scepticism pure and simple
has no place for continuance, and false Scepticism of any kind whatever is dangerous.
By having no place I mean, and I think it is plain, that if you are honestly doubtful
concerning the htness of any petty point of Doctrinal etiquette, you may by discussion
and attention have such doubts removed by enlightenment ; and even if not in
every one particular entirely dissolved, yet you may, by virtue of your good desires
and conduct have them accounted for satisfactorily. This course, if followed,
would put a great check upon Infidelity, and it is not alone the duty of
any Sceptic to approach this end fairly, but it is also the duty as it should
be the aim, of any Minister or official to meet him equally. So long as
Jealousies, Bigotry, and Intolerance exist in religious conmiunities, so long also
will religious cant ; and the present attitude of Scepticism upholds it. I have endea-
voured to show that there are no real grounds for separation from each other, between
Sceptics and Religious Bodies ; and it behoves both parties to put an early end to
useless bickering. This may easily be achieved by each person attending to Duty in
a proper spirit, but with an increased desire to study more the interests of others
rather than personal aims. It is deplorable that good, honest, respectable, and well
meaning men and women, should, through the agency of Traitors, or their own
Stiffness, deny to the world, through individual effort, the manifold advantages which
only flow from unanimity, and an acquiescence in the Divine injimction to "Love one
another," and preach the Gospel unto all the world.
BMCU !
How many times one little word.
Has been the cause of pain ;
Which neither they who said or heard,
Could e'er recall again.
And yet, alas ! it may occui-.
As now 'twixt me and you ;
To such a word, we must recur,
This simple word — Adieu !
To you, my critical Adept —
Or Butcher— if you will :
Should any faultiness have crept,
Herein, beyond my skill ;
I wish you to remember, that —
A "Be'jfjar" is not you.
Yet one in cold November sat,
Inditing this — Adieu,
BEGGAR MANUSCRIPTS. 143
For you, ye virtuous and kind,
I own a deep regard ;
Desirous that an earnest miud.
May merit some reward.
Could I your Friendship hope to win,
I vow by all that's true,
I'd rather linger than begin
To tender this — Adieu.
Amidst the labyrinths of thought.
Where you and I have strayed ;
Perhaps I may have set at nought.
Decorum, prim, and staid ;
A natural Bohemian bent.
Is my excuse to you.
And if so be, you are content,
Shake hands, and say — Adieu !
That ^'Beggar Manutcripts" may prove,
Deserving your support ;
I pray, and strive by ev'ry move,
Your sympathy to Court.
Some interest, p'r'aps now and then.
Its pages may renew ;
And so I hope, as now my pen.
Inscribes this fond — Adieu !
NORTH-KAST LANCA«IlUtK PUINTING AND rUBLISHINC COMTANY, LIMITKH, ]5LACKBUKN.
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