IRLI SB lfc,3 3fll Isccffaneous octns H. WILSON IIIKItlY LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OP CAIIFORNIA MISCELLANEOUS POEMS BY G. H. WILSON. ssett : S. CocKuuiix & Sox, The Borough Printing and Publishing Works and Offices of the Oasett Observer. 1896. LOAN STACK P R E FAC E. HAVING been asked repeatedly, by my friends, to publish some of my poems in book form, I have at last ventured to do so, but not without some mis- givings as to their reception by those who may read them. Many of these pieces have appeared previously in newspapers, &c., and one of my earliest efforts was published in the Ossctt Observer in the year 1867. Some of the shorter poems were written under adverse circumstances, viz., when I was working amid the whirl and busy hum of machinery in the factory twenty-five years ago. Others have been composed during the past few years, in spare moments which have been snatched from a somewhat active com- mercial life. Most of them have been written OG2 iv specially for young people, and have been printed and presented in pamphlet form to the children in the Sunday Schools of the Ossett district. I am perfectly aware that the country is almost flooded with books of poems, and that the general reader has not much taste for this class of literature. Yet I hope, notwithstanding the adverse criticism which I know this small volume will receive, that nevertheless it may do some little good to those who peruse its contents. G. H. WILSON, Heath House, Ossett, May, 1896. CONTENTS. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Page. Lines, written on visiting Tintern Abbey . . 1 England's Welcome to Stanley.. .. .. 2 In Memoriam, "The Death of Lord Tennyson" 3 On the Birthday of a Friend . . . . . . 4 Lines on Scandal . . . . . . . . 4 Meditations on the Dying Year . . . . 5 Musings on the Death of the Old and the Birth of the New Year . . . . . . 6 The Death of the Duke of Clarence and Avondftle 7 Lines on the Death of Rev. C. H. Spurgeon . . 8 In Memoriam, Death of Aid. Nettleton, 2nd Mayor of Ossett . . . . . . 9 Ode to the Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone, on his 83rd Birthday . . . . . . 10 Marriage of the Duke of York and Princess May 11 To Rosie Wilson, on her 10th Birthday . . 11 The Boy and the Parson . . . . . . 12 Only .. .. .. .. .. .. 13 Letter to my Girls at School . . . . . . 13 The Miners' Lock-out . . . . . . . . 14 Letter to Lily and Rosie at School . . . . 15 Written to my Daughters at School . . . . 16 The Cry of Armenia . . . . . . . . 17 CHRISTMAS STORIES AND OTHER PIECES. WRITTEN SPECIALLY FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. Willie Chester . . . . . . . . 18 Little Tim . . . . . . . . . . 27 Billy and Jacky, the Two Orphans . . . . 33 Dick, the Crossing Sweeper . , . . , . 42 VI CONTENTS. CHRISTMAS STORIES, &c., continued. Page. Little Nell, or the Acrobat's Revenge . . . . 46 The Shipwreck, a Story founded on fact . . . . 50 Bob, the Fireman . . . . . . . . 54 Storm at Sea . . . . . . . . . . 61 Advice to Boys . . . . . . . . 63 Advice to Girls . . . . . : . . 64 My Mother .. .. .. .. .. 65 Advice to the Young . . . . . . . . 65 S< uii'TURE NARRATIVES IN RHYME. The Pharisee and the Publican . . . . 67 Christ Stilling the Tempest . . . . . . 70 The Birth of Christ . . . . . . . . 71 The Parable of the Sower . . . . . . 72 Let not your hearts be troubled . . . . 74 Christ Raising the Widow's Son . . . . 75 Christ Feeding the Multitudes . . . . . . 76 POEMS ox THE SEASONS. SI-KINO. Spring's Awaking . . . . . . . . 78 The Thrush : a March Song . . . . . . 79 Lines on Spring . . . . . . . . 80 Welcome Spring . . . . . . . . 81 Springtide Thoughts at Sunrise . . . . 82 SCMMI i:. Summer Thoughts . . . . . . . . 83 Thr .Joy of Harvest .. .. .. .. 84 AUTUMN. An Autumnal Reverie . . . . . . . . 85 An Ode to Autumn . . . . . . . . 86 WlNTI i:. Winter Musings . . . . . . . . 87 CONTENTS. Vll BClBCELLANKOUS SoN<;s. 'Twas in the Mouth of May .. Farewell, Sweet Jessie.. Once upon a time Do not say " Good-bye " My Sweetheart Marie Maggie Queen of my heart My Love is like the Red, Red Rose Years may come and years may go Old England for me Farewell The Old Oak Tree Song (Sacred) Up in the morning early My Love and I Never meet trouble half-way My Guiding Star (Sacred) CHRISTMAS CAROLS, etc. Shepherds o'er their Flocks Christmas Bells All Hail ! Redeemer, Hail ! . . Christmas Hymn Christmas Bells are Ringing New Year Bells Our Lives are Waning.. Page. 88 89 89 90 91 92 93 94 94 95 96 97 97 98 98 99 100 101 102 102 103 104 105 105 POEMS BY GEORGE HENRY WILSON MISCELLANEOUS. LINES WKITTEN ON VISITING THE EUINS OF TINTEEN ABBEY. I stand and gaze upon thy walls, which rise In all their lofty grandeur toward the skies, And think of days long passed, when holy men Thy sacred precincts trod with awe, and when They chanted forth with low and solemn sound Their evening hymn, then falling to the ground Before the altar, crossed themselves, and prayed With ardent fervent zeal, as there they laid. But centuries now have fled, and all around Is hushed and still, while silence reigns profound ; And, as thy ruined piles I thus behold, And picture to my mind the days of old, When in majestic beauty thou didst stand The pride and admiration of the land, My soul is overwhelmed as I here gaze On thy dismantled towers, decked with the rays Of yonder setting sun. But where are now 2 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Those monks of old, I ask, whose solemn vow Was held so dear, whose holy lives were spent Within the shadows of thy tenement ? And from thy walls, the echoing answer comes, "They sleep, and long have slept in mouldering tombs." But, though their bodies have become the prey Of worms, and mingled with the dust they lay, Yet they shall rise again, even when thou Hast crumbled into dust and none shall know The place where thou hast stood. Yea, they shall rise And worship in a shrine beyond the skies, A temple grander far than thou hast been Or mortal eyes below have ever seen. ENGLAND'S WELCOME TO STANLEY. WELCOME, Stanley, brave and true ! we hail thee once again To Britain's sea-girt Isles, from Afric's dreary plain ; The dangers thou hast passed have won thee glorious fame, And England's warmest praise thou now canst justly claim. Our plaudits we would give ; each British heart and tongue Is raised in friendly greeting in one united song. Thou, bold and gallant hero, hast gained the world's renown, And Britain waits to deck thee with the Victor's crown : Long mayst thou live, and may God's providence attend Thee all thy future life, where'er thy steps may bend ; And may each coming year yet more successful prove In crowning thy achievements of labour and of love. MISCELLANEOUS POKMS. THE DEATH OF LORD TENNYSON. LET England now bewail and mourn the loss Of one whose honoured name the nation long Has held so dear, and whose immortal songs Shall sacred still remain, though he has gone. And if 'tis true that, when the soul removes And quits this mortal tenement, it soars On high, and, freed from all impediments, Lives on, and far above th' ethereal sky With God in immortality endures Then, even though his mortal flesh decays, And moulders in the cold and silent tomb, Yet Tennyson still lives, and will remain Enshrined within the hearts of those who shall In future ages read, or sing the lines Which his poetic soul and lofty mind Have pictured with artistic skill ; and thus Shall live again, e'en when his lifeless clay Has mingled with the ashes of his grave. O, may the mantle he has worn so long, But now hath cast aside, without a stain Or blemish, like Elijah's mantle fall On some poetic soul, and may its charm And hidden power unfolded be, and may Its influence be felt in coming years. Then peace be to thy dust, oh ! Tennyson And joy eternal to thy soul be given ; No better epitaph could'st thou desire, Nor could thy loving nation wish thee less. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. LINES ON THE BIETHDAY OF A FEIEND. NIGH twenty years ago your form so fair Was clad in childhood's garb. Yet did compare With some rich casket, where a jewel bright Has oft been hid, for years, from mortal sight. But as through changing time your graceful form More lovely grew, though often by the storm Of life's dark tempests hid, this sparkling gem Shone brightly forth, like some rare diadem. And now, as I behold your face so sweet, Without a blemish, and in smiles complete My soul is moved to poesy and love, While thus I write my warm esteem to prove. But ere I close these lines of birthday muse And lay aside my pen please to excuse My lack of language, rightly to express The feelings which do now my soul possess. Yet with these thoughts my heartiest wishes blend In truest friendship, that shall never end. LINES ON SCANDAL. THIS is how to begin scandal Someone will say " I think " And that is the first link Informing the chain of scandal. Now the next link forged in scandal Is saying " I believe " Not meaning to deceive ; Yet adds to the chain of scandal. Another link added to scandal Somebody says " I know " Therefore, it must be so ; Thus xtrciujthemiuj the chain of scandal. IO80ELLANBOU8 POEMS. That's not the last link in scandal Another states " I saio "- And so on, there you go That is the way to forge scandal. So scandal, with idle chatter Began, then on it grew Until it seemed quite true But to gossips it did not matter. Did you ever think of the evil Which this sea ndal might do ? If so, always be true, Nor help the wiles of the devil. MEDITATIONS ON THE DYING YEAE. DYING are the embers of another fleeting year, And soon it will be past and gone for ever ; How days and weeks and months do quickly disappear, And all our old associations sever ! As we look back upon the years now fled away, We view, no doubt, with pain, the vows we cherished ; For all along our pathway trodden day by day We find it strewn with resolutions, perished. God's word declares, " That no one to himself can live," To good or evil all our lives are tending And every word, or action, will most surely give A blessing or a curse that is unending. Then help us, Lord, to live, that in the coming year We may each moment strive with zeal to render A good account to Thee, that we may ever share Thy blessings and Thy mercies sure and tender. 6 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. MUSINGS ON THE DEATH OF THE OLD AND THE BIETH OF THE NEW YEAR. RETROSPECTIVE. THE fleeting moments of the dying year Were well nigh spent, As in my silent room I sat, and there With thoughts intent, I pondered o'er the changes I had seen In days now gone. And, as in panoramic view, the scene Went gliding on, I wondered if the memories of the past Would ever be Forgot. And then my soul became o'ercast, As mournfully I thought of days misspent, of wasted hours, And wished the time, Gone by, would come again. That all my powers Of manhood's prime Might then be spent in deeds, and not in words " For blest are they Who do God's will." For He His aid affords To those who pray. INTROSPECTIVE. THE scene is changed another year appears A vision bright Hath shed its rays athwart my falling tears Oh ! joyous light For though I never can recall the past Most hideous dream Yet by God's grace, while life on earth shall last I can redeem In coming years each moment as it flies And thus improve My latent talents yea, be accounted wise By Him above, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Who gives a rich reward for labour done. And when on earth My toils are o'er, and I God's praise have won, My native worth Will then receive its due reward, and I A better life Shall live, in brighter realms beyond the sky, Free from all strife. THE DEATH OF THE DUKE OF CLAEENCE AND AVONDALE. WEEP, ye sons of England, and deeply now bewail The loss we have sustained, for our Illustrious Prince, And future King-elect, is dead ! How sad to tell The mournful tidings ; yet throughout the British Isles The woeful news has spread, and nations all lament Our Prince's death. 'Twas but as yesterday, that he So full of joy and hope was filled, and yet to-day Grim Death has seized him for his prey, and withered, dead He lies, cut down scarce in the prime of life, and when The future fraught with pleasure seemed, and happiness His cup of joy o'erflowed, while British hearts and tongues Were waiting eagerly to greet his wedding day, And join in mirthful song ; but now, instead of song, The funeral dirge we hear, and marriage-bells give place To muffled peal with melancholy sound, and flowers That would have strewn his bridal path must now be used To deck his shroud, or place upon his youthful grave. Yet weep not for the dead alone, for those who live Will need our warmest sympathy to heal their grief That we can ever give ; and one there is, whose heart Is torn with deepest sorrow, one day Bride-elect, And then upon the morrow bereft of him she loved What wild despair she feels, what pain and anguish tears O MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Her throbbing breast, then weep for Her. And also mourn For our beloved Queen, whose aged and widowed head Is bowed again with grief, as o'er the silent dead She bends, and once again her wounded heart is rent As she remembers Him s"he loved, who long ago A victim fell to Death's relentless hand, and passed Away both honoured and beloved by all the land. LINES ON THE DEATH OF THE EEV. C. H. SPUKGEON. GONE ! Gone ! How sad the loss we have sustained Let nations all bewail with helpless grief The death of one of England's brightest gems, Whose life with lustre shone, who often cheered The hearts with sadness filled, and helped to raise The fallen outcast, from a life of shame Unto a life of honour and of joy. But now, he's dead ! And o'er his silent grave The widow and the orphan bow their heads And weep, as only those can weep, who feel Their benefactor gone whose hand had helped Life's burden to remove, and smoothed the cares From many a weary brow. And as they stand And view the tenement, which now contains His lifeless clay, that death's relentless hand Has withered almost in the prime of life, Their bleeding hearts are torn afresh with grief, While bitter tears bedew the sacred ground. Yet in their sorrow, they may find a hope To banish all their woe, and thus inspire Their aching throbbing breasts (nor mourn their loss), For, though his body moulders in the dust, His soul still lives, and thousands yet will bless His honoured name. Yea, many still unborn Will praise " High Heaven " that Spurgeon ever lived. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. LINES WEITTEN ON THE DEATH OF THE MAYOR OF OSSETT, ALD. NETTLETON. DEATH, the mortal foe of man, again has come, And with his fierce relentless hand has seized One in our midst, whose strong and manly form Foreboded well, and promised in the future Many days of happiness. How swift the change 'Twas but as yesterday our worthy Mayor stood Surrounded by his family, and beloved By those who knew him best ; his cheerful smiles Portrayed his genial character, while o'er his face The hue of health shone forth, nor was there sign Of " foul disease or sudden dissolution." But wider still by far, beyond the narrow bounds Of his own family circle, will the loss Be felt and mourned. The Council of the Town Could ill afford to lose his helpful aid : For, though he could not boast of cultured tongue Or eloquence, yet with out-spoken words And earnest zeal he strove with all his power To aid the public good, nor feared the frowns Of those who saw not with him eye to eye, But steadily pursued till he attained The object which he sought. And when at last The town on him conferred, by one consent, Its highest honour, with quiet dignity He took the proud position ; and well he filled The Mayoral chair, nor did he ever swerve From duty's call, but his attention gave To help the Borough's weal ; but ere the year Of office round had sped, his sudden death A shock of sadness spread and nigh o'erwhelmed His townsmen's hearts with sorrow and with woe. And now the tomb contains his lifeless clay, And o'er his grave his widow bends with grief, While at her side his son and daughters stand Whose hearts are torn Nor can they realise At once how great the loss they have sustained : 10 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. But often in the future, when they see The vacant chair, and miss the form they loved, Their tears will flow afresh, and time alone Will stem their sorrow's tide and heal their grief. AN ODE TO THE EIGHT HON. W. E. GLAD- STONE ON HIS 83BD BIETHDAY. GLADSTONE, to thee the Nation now would pay Its warmest tribute of esteem and love. Statesman and scholar thou no compeer hast Whose lengthened life has for thy country's weal Been spent. Whose hoary head and silvery locks Give evidence that soon the mighty power Which thou hast wielded in the past, for good, Shall cease ; but ere thy work is laid aside We pray that thou, like others who have steered The helm of this vast Empire, and whose lives Were crowned with victory, by Heaven may be Deck'd with a victor's wreath, and crowned at last. Though fourscore years and three have passed away Since thou upon life's stage didst first appear And threescore years thy life hath now been spent In arduous toil, sometimes beneath the smiles Of men, and sometimes 'neath their frowns, yet still With true undaunted zeal thy noble life Is offered as a living sacrifice, On the altar of thy beloved country. Oh, may thy closing years successful prove, In this one last great effort thou dost make To aid in raising from its low estate The Nation, which has long by unjust rules Been crushed, yet whose brave men have keenly fought Shoulder to shoulder in defence of right. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 11 And ere, most gallant leader, thou shalt quit The scene, where many a battle thou hast won In aid of justice, truth and liberty : Oh, may the flag of freedom wave again Upon our Sister Isle, and equal laws Be given, that she with us in truest bonds Of union may, by one consent, be joined, And as one nation may we stand or fall. MAEEIAGE OF THE "DUKE OF YOBK" AND -PRINCESS MAY." YE marriage bells, the joyful tidings spread ! Peal forth your merry chimes both far and wide ; For England's future King to-day hath wed The lovely Princess May, his honoured bride. Let Britain's sea-girt isles their tribute bring In honour of the happy Royal pair, While loyal subjects make the valleys ring With loud huzzas ! that echo through the air. Let drum and fife and cymbals now be heard, As youths and maidens dance on village green ; Let trumpets sound, and hearts be thrilled and stirred To cheer the nuptials of our future Queen. God bless the noble Duke and fair Princess : May peace and joy attend them all their days, And may their lives be crowned with happiness, Is now the prayer which joins our festive lays. TO ROSIE WILSON ON HER TENTH BIRTHDAY. AUGUST 31sT, 1892. So you are ten years old this birthday, And you say your name is Rose ! Why, you are growing quite a lady, And you think so, I suppose ? 12 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Yes, you have had as many birthdays As there are fingers on your hands Please accept my heartiest wishes : And may the bright and golden bands Which unite your life unto others Be strong, and unsevered remain And may all your life in the future Be as sunshine after the rain. And when your life here shall be ended May you live in that happier place Where no birthdays are ever recorded And no years can your beauty deface. THE BOY AND THE PARSON. A BRIGHT little boy was playing one day, In a village street 'mong the mud and clay, When a Parson happened to pass that way. Said he to the boy " What is it you're making ?" For he saw that a model he was shaping From dirt in the gutter that he was scraping. The boy looked up, and paused for awhile, Then, nodding his head, he said with a smile, " I'm making a church, and this is the aisle, "And there are the pews the people as well " And that is the steeple this is the bell 11 Here is the pulpit What more can I tell ?" " But where is the Parson?" he said to the lad; The urchin replied, with face not quite sad, " There's not enough clay round here to be had." The Parson then turned, and shaking his head, Away he did go his face blushing red Eepeating the words the boy had just said. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 13 ONLY. IT was only a little sunbeam, That shone with its feeble ray, Through a window up in a garret Where a child in suffering lay ; Yet, though sick and sad and weary, It made her heart feel aglow As she thought of Him, who so kindly His goodness and mercies bestow. It was only a tiny flower That grew on the village green, And was plucked by a little maiden Though many had passed it unseen Yet it cheered the heart of her brother, A poor, weak and helpless lad For to him 'twas a priceless treasure, And made him feel happy and glad. It was only a kind word spoken To one who was filled with grief And whose tears were silently flowing, Yet it brought a smile of relief. Then let us these trifles remember, Nor think them too mean to employ For kind words like flowers and sunbeams Will often bring gladness and joy. A LETTEE TO MY CHILDEEN AT SCHOOL. DEAE Lily and Eosie, pray list to my rhyme Now, as I am writing, I hear the bells chime, The bright sun is shining, and Spring-tide is here, In garden and meadow sweet flowers appear. The primrose and violet, their rich fragrance shed, The daffodil gracefully hangs down its head The daisies are kissing the dewdrops of morn, Which sparkle like jewels their crowns to adorn. 14 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. The trees in the orchard have burst from the tomb Of winter's strong fetters, and clad in their bloom Are scenting the air while the humming of bees Is wafting like music, and floats on the breeze. The skylark is mounting aloft in the air, And from its throat warbles its song sweet and clear, While the thrush in yon tree sings aloud to its mate, As she sits by her nest, and for him doth wait. And you, my dear children, a lesson thus learn, As daily in nature God's works you discern ; Be cheerful and happy, contented and free Then fairer than flowers in Spring- tide you'll be. THE MINEKS' LOCK-OUT, 1893. THE fight 'twixt Capital and Labor Is waging throughout the land, And great is the want and suffering Which is felt on every hand. Many children for bread are crying, But the shelf at home is bare ; Thin faces are pinched with hunger And wan with want and despair. Mothers, too, with hearts full of anguish, Are stricken with grief and woe ; And call for our help in their struggle Oh, who to their aid will go ? Will some kind hearted men and women From their store of plenty send To save them from want and starvation, And prove to suffering a friend? Let employers of labor consider The just demands of the men Let employed too listen to reason Their passions curb and restrain. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 15 Each workman of his hire is worthy Is a truth which none deny ; And " fair play " 'tis said " is a jewel " While cheating we all decry. Then why shouldn't " Capital and Labor " Join hand in hand, to destroy The evils of strikes and lock-outs And displace misery with joy? A LETTER. DEAR Lily and Rosie, as I take up my pen Please excuse me if prosey ; for now and again I fancy my letters are not so attractive To children whose minds are so buoyant and active. And, first, I would write of the state of the weather Which at present is dull, and not altogether Just what we would like it Alas ! it is raining You see I still grumble, and oft am complaining. Once more, I'm reminded that Xmas is nearing, When faces so sad will be made bright and cheering, For good Santa Claus will, no doubt, give them pleasure By filling their stockings with gifts they will treasure. And you, I imagine, have fondly been dreaming Of that festive season, till your eyes bright and beaming Have sparkled and shone like the dewdrops of morning, And now sweetest smiles are your faces adorning. Then, hurrah ! for the time of beef and plum pudding, When roast geese and turkeys the tables are studding. And may peace and plenty be yours, now and ever, Is the wish of the writer, your loving father. 16 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. A LETTER. DEAR Lily, I now take my pen, To write these lines to you : And, as the clock is striking ten, My words must be but few. I hope you're very well in health, Although 'tis wintry weather For health is better far than wealth, Though both go well together. How swiftly time is speeding on, Though perhaps to you 't seems drear ; A few more weeks will soon be gone, And Christmas will be here. Please give my love to darling Rose, And kiss her for me too She'll laugh and shout I do suppose, And make a lot to do. Ma ! says she is a charmer, O, And growing very big " So she will not be frightened, No ! Not even by a pig." But now I must conclude my rhyme, And hurry off to bed, 'Tis eleven o'clock I hear it chime And weary is my head. Yet, ere my pen I now lay down, Permit me thus to sign Yours very truly George Wilson This should be the last line. P.S. Your Ma and Freddy also send Their love to you in rhyme And forward look, with you, to spend A happy Christmas time. MISCELLANEOUS POl.M^. 17 "THE CRY OF ARMENIA." How long, O Lord, shall persecution reign And cruel tyrants crush beneath their feet Armenia's Sons ? Will nations all refuse To lend a listening ear ? And shall they cry For help in vain ? Behold them in their deep And abject misery, crushed to the earth By fiends in human form, whose reeking swords Are steeped, e'en to the hilt, in blood of slain. For ages past those faithful Christians Have suffered woes untold. The Turkish hordes Have often been let loose upon them, and Their wives and daughters have been ravished by Those hellish fiends. Then who will volunteer To help them ? For 'tis not enough that we As Englishmen should seek to mitigate Their woes by saving from starvation's verge. What we, as Britain's sons, should now demand, E'en by our swords and guns, is this To end For aye the Sultan's reign. Too long " the Powers That be" have bolstered up that kingdom, which Is rotten to the core, and which should now By our united efforts be o'erthrown. Then with one loud and soul-enthrilling cry Let England now declare, that tyranny Shall end, and freedom thus be given to brave Armenia's sons. So w r ill the sympathy And gratitude of all the world be earned. 18 CHRISTMAS STORIES and other pieces written specially for Young People. WILLIE CHESTER, THE LITTLE MATCH-SELLER. IT was on the eve of Christmas Yes, merry Christmas time ; When peace, joy and mirth, and goodwill on earth Rang out in every chime. And the night was cold and stormy, The snow fell thick and fast, As with hurried feet, through the busy street, The crowds were moving past. Some faces looked sad and weary, As they walked with haste along ; And some, with a smile, would pause for awhile, To gaze on the busy throng. Some were clad in tattered garments, And seemed half starved with cold ; While others were dressed in robes of the best, Trim'd with fur, rich to behold. And they all seemed very eager, Some nice present to possess ; The rich, with their gold, would treasures unfold, The poor were content with less. CHRISTMAS STOEIES. 19 But in the hurry and bustle None heeded the plaintive cry Of a little lad, who, with face so sad, Called out to the passers-by, " Who will buy a box of waxlights " A penny a box ?" he said ; And he shivered with cold, for his garments were old, While bare and wet was his head. He was only young and feeble, His voice you could scarcely hear ; Yet he tried to sell, for he knew quite well The cupboard at home was bare. And mother, he knew, was waiting, Yes, waiting now to receive The pence from her boy, so that she might buy Some food, on that Christmas eve. For, though she was poor and helpless, Her heart was loving and kind, And her darling boy was her pride and joy, And round him her heart entwined. They had not always been needy- No, brighter days they had seen ; But sorrow and woe, with their cruel blow, To darken their home had been. 'Twas only five years that winter Yes, 'twas just five years ago A man had been found, laid dead on the ground, And almost covered with snow. That man was poor Willie's father, And drink had been his curse ; Though often he tried his weakness to hide, He went from bad to worse. 20 CHRISTMAS STORIES. Yet he loved his boy when sober, He was fond of mother too ; And none more inclined to be gentle and kind, Or ever a heart more true. But, alas ! his love for liquor Grew stronger, till at last Both position of trust and honour he lost, Ere many years had passed. Thus his home was brought to ruin ; His wife and only child, Through his sad disgrace, had the world to face, Which drove him nearly wild. Then he sought to hide his sorrow, And drown his shame in beer ; Till that winter's night, in an awful plight, He ended his sad career. And when they had found his body, Frozen to death in the snow, None were left to mourn, save mother and son, That day, just five years ago. Since then the widow had struggled Herself and boy to maintain ; And often she found, as the years rolled round, It was hard their bread to win. But as little Willie grew older, Though only a tiny dot, He often would cheer his mother so dear, And help to lighten her lot. And that was why he sold matches, On that stormy winter's night ; And as he stood there, with blue eyes so fair, And gazed on the busy sight, CHKISTMAS STORIES. 21 He wished he was a bit older, That he might more useful be ; Then, with tears in his eyes, he heaved a big sigh, As he called out mournfully To a gentleman who was passing, A stranger, with long dark locks " Do buy a box, please, do, sir, if you please, " Only a penny a box !" The man he addressed stopped quickly, And turned to' look at the lad ; Then he, at a glance, saw here was a chance To cheer a heart that was sad, His own heart was full of kindness, For he remembered so well, How, long years ago, he stood in the snow, Trying his matches to sell. And so he said unto Willie " Why stand you here in the snow ?" And Willie replied " Since my father died, My mother is poor, you know : " That is the reason I'm here, sir, Do buy a box, if you please ; They're only a penny, I haven't got many " And he shook in the cold breeze. Then love filled the heart of the stranger, While, tears flowing from his eyes, To Willie he said, as he raised his head, And looked up with surprise, " What will you take for the lot, lad? Come, tell me now, my boy" Then poor Willie gazed, and stood quite amazed, His face lit up with joy. 22 CHRISTMAS STOEIES. " You can have them all for sixpence" At this, the stranger smiled, As a piece of gold, from a purse quite old, He took, and gave to the child, Saying, " Never mind the change, boy, You may keep it all " he said ; " But tell me your name, you need not shame, Is it Tom, or Dick, or Fred?" " My name, sir, is Willie Chester" " Chester !" the man then replied " Yes, sir," Willie said, as he raised his head, And his eyes he opened wide. For he wondered at the question Which the stranger asked of him ; And again, with surprise, he saw that the eyes Of the man with tears were dim. " What was the name of your father ?" Again the gentleman said " John Chester, sir " Then, a sigh as of pain He heaved, and hung down his head. Once more, the man fairly started ! " Could it be ! " Was this the boy Of his brother John ?" And he looked upon The face of the lad with joy, Now the stranger's name was Chester, But nigh twenty years ago He had left his home, o'er the world to roam, Eesolving that he would go And seek for fame and for fortune ; So he left his native shore, And sailed o'er the main, his fortune to gain, As many had done before. CHRISTMAS STORIES. 23 And for many years he had struggled, Far away in regions wild ; But, with heart and will, he toiled on, until Fortune upon him had smiled. Now, when from home he departed, He left his mother in pain ; A brother also, who said " Do not go ; I pray you, Bill, to remain At home, with me and dear mother ; Don't leave us here all alone" But he heeded not, though sad was their lot : " Good-bye," he said, and was gone. Yes, gone, and left them to struggle, With their lot, so dark and sad ; And for many long years his mother, in tears, Did mourn for her wandering lad. At last she died midst her sorrows, And John, her darling son, Of mother bereft, was all that was left, Over her grave to mourn, Thus years rolled on, and John Chester To manhood's prime had arrived ; Then he wooed and wed, and for years he led A sober life, and he strived To make it a life of goodness- While fortune upon him smiled ; And great was his joy, when a darling boy, Their first and their only child, 24 CHRISTMAS STORIES. Was laid on his wife's dear bosom : No happier twain could there be ; And sometimes he said, as he stroked his head " I wish my brother could see " His dear little charming nephew " I wonder where Bill is now ?" But he never heard, not even a word Of him, w r ho long years ago Had sailed o'er the bounding ocean " Oh ! could be be living still, And would he return?" How his heart did burn, For he loved his brother Bill. But as time passed on, John Chester Was tempted to go astray, And very soon found that the treacherous ground From under his feet gave way. And soon his evil companions, From whom he once did shrink, Dragged him down to shame, and his honoured name Was lost through the love of drink. And the rest of this sad story To you is already known ; How at last a slave, in a drunkard's grave, He reaped the seed he had sown. Now, all this time William Chester Worked on with might and main ; Yet he often tried his sorrows to hide, And longed for home again. CHEISTMAS STORIES. 25 For though he had prospered greatly, Yet he could not happy be ; So resolved one day no longer to stay In that land beyond the sea. Then at last he sold his business, His houses and lands as well ; And a ship came round, that was homeward bound, So he bade his friends farewell. And just on the eve of Christmas Arrived at his native town ; For only that day he'd sailed in the bay, In a vessel called " Eenown." And as he walked through the city, The streets of which were filled With an eager throng as he pressed along He heard a voice, that thrilled Him through and through with compassion : But little did he know That the voice he heard, which his soul had stirred, Through the thick falling snow, Was the voice of his own nephew, Out in the cold, cold, street, Who was standing there, with his head quite bare And nothing on his feet. But when he had heard the story He said to Willie " Come, " Let me take your hand (you can hardly stand), " And show me to your home. " For I am your uncle, darling, " I've just come home from sea" Then, after awhile, he said with a " What have you got for tea?" 26 CHRISTMAS STORIES. " I'm afraid," said little Willie, " We have not got any, sir ; " But with all this cash we'll soon cut a dash, " And mother will make a stir. " I'm so glad that you have come, sir, " And mother will be too ; " For she prayed to-day, that God, in His way, " Would prove His promise true." " Thank God ; He has heard her prayers !" His uncle then replied " And now, Willie dear, we will gladly share " A happy Christmastide." And so it was, on the morrow, Just at the break of day ; As the bells did ring, and the waits did sing Their merry roundelay, They joined in the happy chorus, As tears of joy they shed ; And merry were they, on that Christmas Day, For sorrow all had fled. LITTLE TIM. IT was on Christmas Eve, a many years ago : The wind was biting cold, and silent fell the snow ; And through the busy streets the crowds were hurrying fast. They quickly moved along to escape the wintry blast, But many paused awhile, with eager eyes to gaze "Upon the busy scene, for the windows all ablaze Were garlanded with mistletoe and holly green, Also fruits and flowers as fine as e'er were seen. CHRISTMAS STOKIES. 27 The school had closed, and children tripp'd with glee As homeward they now ran, so bright and merrily ; But they, too, now have stopped, and stand with wondering eyes, To view the tempting piles, and shout with glad surprise. " Come, come, young folks !" a voice rings out quite near; "I really cannot do with children standing here ; "You are blocking up the way, and people cannot see ; "Take these," the shopman said, "and run off home to tea." And, as he spoke, his hands he then did fill With nuts, and tossed them in their midst, until The children fairly shouted with delight ; And he, good-natured, smiled to see the sight. Now, very soon the nuts were gathered up, And on their way did run the merry troop. But one there was, a tiny little lad, Who slowly moved away, with face quite sad, For in the scramble this little boy had not Successful been, and so no nuts had got. The shopman had seen this as he stood by, And so he called out, " Tim, what makes you cry " My little chap? Come tell me now," said he. So Tim replied, " I did not get a nut, you see." Now Mr. King felt sorry for the boy For he remembered one, his pride and joy, A little son about the age of Tim ; And, as he thought, it made his eyes grow dim With tears for Willy, his own darling lad, Was warmly dressed, while Tim was thinly clad. Perhaps it was this thought that made him kind And with compassion filled his heart and mind. " Come here," he said, " and I'll make up to you " For losing those few nuts" ; and without more ado He brought a nice rich orange, fine and large, And placed it in Tim's hand without a charge. " Oh ! thank you," said the boy, with great delight As o'er his face there shone a joyous light. 28 CHEISTMAS STOBIES. [Now little Tim a drunken father had, And that was why he often looked so sad ; For many times the cupboard had been bare, While other boys had plenty and to spare.] "Have you got your Christmas goose?" he asked of him, " No, sir, I guess we ain't," said little Tim ; " They cost too much." And then his eyes he raised With wistful look, as on the birds he gazed. " I'll tell you where your Christmas goose is," said he. " Where? oh, tell me," Tim said quite eagerly. " Why, at the liquor store, just down the way, " Where many things besides are stowed away. " Now go and tell your father what I've said, " For he knows why you often want for bread." " I'll go and tell him now," replied the boy ; And off he ran, his heart quite filled with joy. Nor did he stop until he reached the place He called his home, and with a beaming face That shone quite radiant with delight he said, " Oh ! mother ! mother !" And running to the bed On which a thin and pale-faced woman lay, With nothing but a blanket, old and grey, To shield her from the cold and wintry blast. " Where is father?" said little Tim at last : His mother pointed to a corner, where A man in drunken slumber, lying there Apparently unconscious of it all, Nor caring what to him there might befall. " Oh ! I must wake him now," exclaimed the lad, " For I've some news that's sure to make him glad." " No ; You must not wake him," the mother cried. Then, as she spoke, she drew Tim to her side, And asked, " Why do you wish to wake him, dear?" For oft the lad had stood, in dread and fear Of father's anger ; but now all fear had gone As he replied, " Just wait till I have done ; " I want to tell my father where to go " To get our Christmas dinner, don't you know?" " Where is it, dear?" his mother asked of Tim, CHRISTMAS STORIES. 29 As with surprise she shook her head at him. " Why, at the liquor store," the shopman said ; " It's true, and so you need not shake your head. " He told me I might tell my father so. " Oh ! let me wake him ; then I'm sure he'll go." At last the mother saw how that the boy Believed the shopman's words, and to destroy His happiness she found it very hard. So, looking at her boy with great and fond regard, " Tim," she said gently, stroking the dark head That lay beside her own upon the bed ; " Do you not know what Mr. King did mean? " Here, nestle close to me, and let me screen " You from the bitter cold, and I will tell " You what the words have meant, for I know well. " Now, this is what the shopman really meant : Your father at the store has often spent His hard-earned money, that would now provide A Christmas goose and many things beside." Oh ! then, there is no dinner after all For us 1" said Tim, as from his eyes did fall Such bitter tears, and silently they flowed, As on his mother's breast his head he bowed. The mother for awhile said nothing to the boy, But kissing him so tenderly, her pride and joy, She presently the question asked of him, " Where did you get that nice sweet orange, Tim ?" At this he rose, and very soon he dried The tears from off his face ; and then he cried, "Why Mr. King gave it to me, you know ; ' ' Oh ! Is it not a beauty, quite fit for any show ? " We'll keep it for to-morrow, mother dear; " And see, I'll hide it in the blanket here." " Now tell me, Tim, what you have learnt to-day " At school," his mother said, that she might keep away His disappointment ; and then Tim replied, " The teacher spoke of merry Christmas tide, " And how we should be thankful for our home, ." For many children have no shelter from the storm. " And then she said that we had parents too ; 30 CHRISTMAS STORIES. " And, mother, I am glad that I have you ; ''But, do you know, I sometimes think that we, "(If father were away) might happier be ? " Hush, Tim my child ; you never more must say " Such words again, for once there was a day " When father was both good and kind to me ; " And perhaps some day he will his error see ; " So we must love him still, and ever try " To win him from the paths of misery." At length she saw that he, whom they supposed Asleep in drunken stupor, was aroused. And jumping from the bed on which he lay He rushed out of the room ; and then away Into the gathering darkness, on he went Not caring where the next few hours he spent. Now, all the time since Tim had first arrived At home, his father merely had contrived To affect a drunken slumber, and had heard Each word that had been said, and so he feared To think upon the past, for well he knew That every word of Mr. King's was true. For only just five years ago John Bell Had every comfort home could give, as well As happy wife and child, for whom his love And pride so constantly did prove Him worthy of respect by all around. But, oh ! what was he now ? Why now he found Himself a poor despised drunkard, the curse Of all who knew him ; and what by far was worse Than all, the wife whom once he loved was laid Upon a bed of suffering he himself had made ; And Tim, his only child, had wished him gone Oh ! was it strange, that as he stumbled on On through the darkness, trying now in vain To escape a guilty conscience, for the pain Was more than he could bear at last he found Himself beside the river's edge, and round He looked, to see if any one was near : CHRISTMAS STORIES. 31 What better could he do than now and here To drown himself ? for right full well he knew The words that his own boy had said were true " We would be happier without father." So He resolved at once, 'twas best that he should go And plunge into the river running by, Thus ending, once for all, his agony. 'Twas then he thought he heard a voice quite near Was it an angel whispering in his ear ? " No ; be a man, and not a coward base, " For you may rise by trusting in God's grace. " Do not destroy your life, but try again " To win the love you've lost, and you may then " Successful be in trying to restore " The happiness which you possessed of yore." And, as he thought, a longing o'er him came To break his shackles and his life reclaim ; But could he do it ? Well, he could but try ; And down he knelt, and with agonizing cry These words he prayed, " God helping me, I will ;' And, rising to his feet, he felt a thrill Of joy ! And now resolved, his steps he bent, And to his old employer's house he went. Now Mr. Leslie had often tried to win And save him from the downward course of sin. So great was his surprise to see again The man who oft had caused him grief and pain. Could it be true, that he had come at last Kesolved to break the chains that held him fast ? And, with a prayer that this the case might be, A welcome hand he gave both warm and free ; " Come in out of the cold," he said to John : And, into his warm room he drew him on, Saying, " What can I do for you my man ? " Tell me, and I will help you if I can." John answered, " Sir, I have resolved at last " Strong drink to shun, and so redeem the past. " A favor I would ask of you, kind friend, 32 CHRISTMAS STORIES. " Oh ! give me back my work, and I will spend " My future life, so that it may atone " For wrongs, that I my wife and child have done." " With all my heart," his master then replied, And as he spoke he drew John to his side And asked him, " Will you sign the pledge for me ?" " Yes, sir, I want to," he said quite eagerly; And with a firm resolve, though trembling hand, He signed his name, and joined the Temperance Band. And when he rose to go, his master then did say, " To show my trust in you, I now intend to pay " A week's wage in advance, that you may buy " The comforts that you need; and now good-bye, " And may you have a happy Christmas Day," Then John, with a glad heart, did haste away, About an hour had quickly passed away, When homeward he returned, where his wife lay With Tim curled up beside her fast asleep, While she, half dreading, still her watch did keep. But when she now beheld her husband dear, Whose arms were laden full with Christmas cheer, She saw at once a change had taken place, For a new light was beaming o'er his face ; Just then, Tim woke, and when he saw the sight, In ecstacy he fairly shouted with delight, " Oh ! father, I am so glad that you have got " Our Christmas dinner ; and look, oh ! what a lot " You've brought ; now shan't we have a jolly treat, " Why no one ever saw such piles of meat ! " And so it was, while purest love held sway, They thus did spend a happy Christmas day, Now for a time John found it hard to free Himself ; but soon he gained the victory, And henceforth led a new and better life, For home was free from sorrow and from strife. CHRISTMAS STORIES. 33 And though Tim never knew what made the change In father, and he sometimes thought it strange To see him now, so loving and so kind, And often he would ponder in his mind Of all the days gone by, and once he said Unto his mother, as with uplifted head He looked into her face, now free from pain, " I love my father, for he's won my heart again." BILLY AND JACKY, THE TWO ORPHANS. 'TWAS Christmas, happy Christmas-time, You could feel it in the air ; The bells rang out a merry chime, And joy seemed everywhere. The hurrying, jostling crowds were bent On errands of goodwill, As through the busy streets they went, Their missions to fulfil. Old gentlemen, in big fur-coats, Were tramping through the snow ; Their pockets bulging out, quite full Their faces all aglow. And children, too, went trotting on, With little bundles neat ; Their faces lit with pleasant smiles, They ran with merry feet. But here and there, among the throng Of people gaily dressed, Were those who slowly moved along, As through the crowd they pressed ; And sometimes they would stop and gaze, With eager, wistful eye, Into the windows, all ablaze, And then would heave a sigh, As anxiously they thought of home, Of loved ones waiting there, 34 CHRISTMAS STOEIES. No doubt expecting to receive Of Christmas gifts a share. And as they held, in their cold hands, A purse, both worn and thin, They pondered bow they best could spend The hard-earned pence within. And also rough, good-natured men Went jostling through the crowd ; With hands thrust in their pockets deep, They ask, with voices loud, The prices of the pretty trees Which on the pavement lay. And after buying all they need, They proudly march away, Thinking, no doubt, the coming morn Would bring a glad surprise To many little prattling ones, Soon as they op'ed their eyes. Now all who formed this busy throng Were bent so eagerly Upon their errands of good-will, That they had failed to see Two tiny, half-starved urchins, who, In rags and tatters clad, Stood shivering in the blinding snow, With faces worn and sad. They had no shoes or stockings on ; Their feet were blue with cold ; And in their hands they tightly held Their papers, still unsold. And no one seemed to heed the boys, Or listen to their cry ; Too busy e'en to cast a look, They quickly passed them by. The younger, a mere child of seven, With large dark eyes, portrayed That want had almost done its work, And on his form had laid CHRISTMAS STORIES. 35 Its blighting and relentless hand ; For every now and then He coughed a sharp, dry cough it was, That seemed to cause him pain. The clock in the cathedral tower Had now begun to chime ; Three papers only sold as yet, And half-past four the time. And little Jack now cried with cold, So begged that Bill would find Some place more sheltered from the storm, And from the cutting wind. Billy agreed, and off they ran, As fast as they could go, Unto a well-known empty shed, T' escape the driving snow. And then they close together crept, As close as they could be ; And as the wind blew through the chinks, Jack questioned, wistfully " Bill, do you think there's wind in heaven, " Where mother's gone to dwell?" And Bill replied, " I reckon not, " For I remember well " She told me all was nice up there, " No storms of wind and rain ; " No winter's snow, no biting cold, " Or cough that gives us pain." Jack shivered, and then asked again " Do all have Christmas there ? " And have they all nice things to eat, " Both plenty and to spare ?" 11 Yes ! Oh, yes !" Bill was sure of that, And so at once he said " There's pies, and cakes, and candy too." At this Jack raised his head, And with his eyes, now opened wide, He then with joy did cry CHRISTMAS STORIES. " I wish, Bill, I could go there now," And gave a long, long sigh. At this Bill placed his arm around His brother's neck, and said, " Perhaps, Jack, you will go, some day," And then he turned his head And drew his sleeve across his eyes, To hide the falling tears : For, although only nine years old, Brave was he for his years. And having dashed the tears away, To ease his brother's mind, He rose, and took him by the hand, Saying, " We will try to find " The place called heaven, where mother went." And then they pushed their way On through the crowded, busy streets, Where all was bright and gay. Now Bill could well remember still The way the waggon went, Which bore their mother to the grave ; And so his steps he bent Eight on, unmindful of the cold, On through the darkening night, They left the city far behind, Which soon was lost to sight. And on they trudged until the snow Grew deep and deeper still, For there it was not trampled down. Yet on they journeyed till At length they both grew tired and faint, And trembled with the cold. So Bill, at last, said " Let's go back," And as he spoke there tolled The city bell, which now struck nine, Far in the distant tower. " I guess we can't get there to-night, " For hark, how late the hour ! " CHRISTMAS STORIES. 37 Then Jacky coughed again, but still With tearful eyes, said he, " No, no, Bill, let's go on again, 11 For, perhaps, we soon shall see " The place called heaven, where mother lives ; " It can't be far away, " And maybe we shall spend with her " To-morrow, Christmas Day." Then on again they side by side Tramp through 'the drifting snow, With none to cheer and none to guide, Alone, alone they go. Alone ! Ah ! no, for there was One, A Friend, who's always nigh ; Whose ears are ever opened wide To hear the Orphan's cry. At last Jack said, " I am so tired, " My eyes won't open keep, " Let's lay down here upon the snow " I want to fall asleep." Bill shivered as he said, " No, Jack, " You must not lay down here, " And look, I see such a big light, " Perhaps we're nearly there ; " At any rate, we'll ask the way, " Most likely they will know." So Jack again now started up, And onward they did go. Now very soon they stood before A mansion large and fine, With windows all aglow with light, That on the snow did shine ; The curtains were drawn up, and so Bill took a peep into A room in which a lady sat With lots of children too. 38 CHRISTMAS STORIES. And in the room a Christmas tree Was decked quite full with toys, And these the lady shared among The little girls and boys. Now Bill had never seen before Such lots of things, you know, So was it any wonder he Forgot the cold and snow, And for at least five minutes gazed Upon the dazzling scene ? At last he whispered, " Jack, come here, " For this is heaven, I ween." No answer came, and looking round He saw that Jack was laid Upon a heap of drifted snow ; And so again he said " Come, Jacky, boy, wake up, wake up, " We've got to heaven, my dear ! " And I am going inside to see " If mother's waiting here." But still no answer came from Jack ; And Billy tried in vain To shake him from the fatal sleep, And make him speak again. At last he crept up to the door, And rang the bell with fear, On which a tall man, in fine clothes, Did quickly then appear. " Please, sir," said Bill, " I want to know " If mother is inside ? " And, please, sir, is this place called heaven ?" At which the man replied, In tones quite stern, " What do you want ?" Thinking, no doubt, that Bill Was only wanting food to eat ; And so, with voice quite shrill, " You cannot come in here," he said, " But to the kitchen go, CHRISTMAS STORIES. 39 " For beggars never are allowed " To come this way." And so He turned away, about to shut The door in Billy's face, When, just in time, the lady came And asked to hear the case ; And with a little questioning, She soon Bill's troubles knew ; So, calling to her husband, said, " Go, bring his brother, too." But little did they think that Jack, Now lying in the cold, Would spend to-morrow's Christinas Day Within the Saviour's fold. Good Mr. Sempton soon returned, With Jacky on his arm ; But, as he laid him on the couch, He said, with some alarm, 1 ' I am afraid this little man " Is past all human aid ; " But we must try to save his life." And so he quickly said, " Tell John to harness ' Bob ' at once, "And I with him will go " To fetch the doctor right away. "And mother, you will know "Just what to do till we return ; " We shan't be long, my dear." So, kissing her, he left the room, And rushed away in fear. Now for a time Bill did not know What Mr. Sempton meant, But their sad faces troubled him, As o'er poor Jack he bent ; And, giving him a gentle pull, He whispered in his ear " I say, we've got to heaven, you know, "Come, wake up, Jacky dear." 40 CHRISTMAS STORIES. Christmas-eve had well-nigh gone, And soon the bells would ring In honour of the Saviour's birth, Who did glad tidings bring ! And in the silent room they watched, With anxious eyes, now bent Upon the couch where Jacky lay Their faces all intent, Waiting to catch the faintest sign Of his returning life. At last the doctor said, " I fear " 'Twill end his mortal strife." And as he spoke he turned away, The falling tears to hide, And thought of one, a darling child, Who long ago had died. He also thought of those at home Sleeping so peacefully, And from his heart there rose a prayer That they might happy be. At last a little sigh is heard, Then quick his tears he dried, And turning to the coach, he saw Jack's eyes were open wide. And, gazing round the dazzling room, A smile his face did fill As faintly he now whispered, " Heaven ! But where is Ma and Bill ?" Now Bill had been well fed and dressed, So he had begged to stay Just in a corner of the room Where little Jacky lay. So now he from the corner stole, And with a tearful face He said to Jack, " Ma is not here, " And this is not the place " Where mother lives." And as he spoke, O'er Jacky's face there passed CHRISTMAS STO1UES. 41 A cloud of sorrow and distress, That now his brow o'ercast. But there in the dim light, before The dawn of Christmas Day, The story old was once more told About the heavenly way. And, as they spoke of Christ and heaven, Jack asked in feeble tone, " Is mother waiting for me there ? "And shall I see her soon ?" " Yes, dear," the answer came ; and then He for awhile was still, But soon he whispered, " Oh ! I wish " I could go now, with Bill." " ! we'll take care of Billy, dear," The lady then replied, As she then took the older boy And drew him to her side. Then Billy knelt down by the couch, And Jacky's hand he took, Saying, " You'll soon get well again !" But Jacky did not look. His eyes were fast becoming dim, And stretching forth his hand, " Mother," he cried, " I've come to keep- " Christmas in that bright land" And as he spoke, his head fell back Upon the pillow there, While on his face a smile still played. His soul had gone to share A better Christmas in the skies, In mother's company ; Where want and sorrow are unknown, And all is bright and free. And though some years have rolled along Since Jacky passed away, Yet still Bill strives to shun the wrong, Hoping that he, some day, 42 PIECES FOB YOUNG PEOPLE. Will meet dear Jack, and mother too, In mansions bright above Never to part, ever to join In singing Jesu's love. DICK, THE CKOSSING SWEEPER. DICK was only a crossing sweeper, In one of the city streets ; And he was so poor and friendless, That life to him had few sweets. But one friend he had named Lily, Who sold flowers over the way ; They were only plain and cheap ones, So she hadn't a grand display. Yet she often wished she could buy some, Yes, just like those she had seen In the hands of the ladies who pass'd her- Roses and ferns, rich and green. Sometimes Dick would leave his crossing Awhile, and run to his friend ; And she was always glad to see him, Just a few moments to spend. For often they had cheered each other, In times of distress and grief, And almost forgot all their troubles, In giving each other relief. One day Dick ran over to Lily, And as they were talking she said, " Dick, are you not fond of red roses?" At this, he nodded his head, PIECES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 43 Saying, " Yes, oh, yes ; I am very ; " They smell so sweetly, you know ; " I wish I could buy yer some, Lily, "And I will do some day, somehow." Then she laughed, and said it was nonsense ; But Dick said again and again "I'll buy yer some bonniest red roses, " Just see if I don't." And then Away he ran back to his crossing, Eesolving to save up his cash ; And oft he repeated, " I'll buy 'em ! " Then, oh, my ; she will cut a dash." At the finish of that day's sweeping Dick felt much elated to know That besides finding bed and supper He had threepence to spare, and so He said to himself, " Now I'll buy em ;" Then off to a shop right away He ran, and there in the window He saw such a beautiful spray Of red roses, and entering boldly He said to the lady inside, " What's the price o' those 'eer red roses?" At which to him she replied, And said with a smile, " Two and sixpence." Then Dick turned sadly away ; For he'd set his heart on the purchase For Lily, " o' that 'eer bookay " One morning the flower girl was absent, For, seized with a fever, she lay On a wretched bed in a garret, And Dick missed her all that day. 44 PIECES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. So when his day's labor was ended, Though weary and footsore was he, He resolved he would go and see her, For he knew he would welcome be. But when he arrived at the garret, Poor Lily said eagerly, " Dick ! Where are the beautiful roses, " The red ones, you promised to me?" Then advancing a little nearer, He took her hot hand in his own Oh, how burning it was with the fever And begged of her to lie down, Saying, " I hav'nt the roses Lily, " I 'aint got the money yet ; " But I promised, and I will buy 'em, " So there's a darling, don't fret." Then poor Dick, both sad and bewildered, Stole away, with tears in his eyes ; And wandering into the city, His heart well nigh burst with sighs, He came at last to the flower shop, Where he'd been not long ago ; And there again in the window Such beautiful roses he saw. The young lady observed him looking, And stepping outside she said, " Are you the boy who not long since " Called here ?" Dick nodded his head, Saying, " Yes, I should like some roses, " For Lily, my friend, she's so ill ; 11 But I know I 'aint enough money," He said, as his eyes did fill PIECES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 45 Again with tears. But, said the lady, " How much have you got, my lad ?" " Two shillings," he said, rather slowly, And he hung down his head, so sad. " Come into the shop," she said, smiling, " And from the best roses you see " You may choose for yourself, for two shillings." Then he entered the shop with glee. About ten minutes later our hero Stood again in the garret's gloom ; And, unwrapping the beautiful roses, That with fragrance fill'd the room, He stole to the bedside on tiptoe, Thinking she must be asleep ; And touching her gently, and softly, Said, " Lily ! Come, just take a peep "At those lovely and charming red roses, "I've brought them at last you see." Then she opened her eyes, and saw them, Crying, " Dick ! Are they for me ?" And over her face, sad and weary, A bright sunny smile there pass'd, As she said, " Dear Dick, now I'm happy, "I thought you would bring them at last." Then she said, "Come, Dick, let me kiss you," And held up her thin wan face, While the boy clasped his arms around her In a fond and last embrace. "Thank you, good night," then she murmured; "I'm so tired and weary; but, dear, " I feel Jesus, the Saviour, is near me, "And I know I've nothing to fear. 46 PIECES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. " So good-night again, and God bless you" These were the last words she said ; And her eyes were then closed for ever, And poor Dick knew she was dead ! She had gone to the home for poor children, To a brighter and happier place ; Yes, gone with the scent of the roses Lingering on her sweet face. LITTLE NELL, OK THE ACEOBAT'S REVENGE, THE ground was covered thick with snow, And fiercely keen the wind did blow, As o'er a rough uneven road The show vans creaked beneath their load 'Twas a circus and a wild-beast show, Combined in one, which often go On tour, and on the village green Or in the country town is seen At last they stop, and turn within A waste enclosure, and begin To pitch their tent ; all hands are called To take their part, and having hauled The canvas roof, they spread it o'er The open space, and scarce an hour Has passed away before the tent Is ready for the eve's event. Five caravans there were in all, Containing wild beasts great and small ; Others also, in which to stow The costumes used within the show. In one of these there lay a child, Tossing with fever fierce and wild : A little girl, but six years old, With flaxen hair that shone like gold ; PIECES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 47 While close beside her on the bed A woman sat with downcast head. The tears were flowing from her eyes, And from her breast heaved heavy sighs. Sometimes, when conscious for awhile, The child would raise her head and smile, Which often eased her mother's care And drove away her sad despair. 'Twas just three hours before the time To start the show ; she heard the chime Of village bell, tolling the hour She listened ; yes, 'twas striking four. Just when the clock had ceased, a man Appeared, whose face was pale and wan ; And, as he came, with silent tread He stole on tiptoe to the bed, For he was careful, lest he might Disturb the child " How's Nell to-night?" He whispered to his wife ; for he Was father to the girl. And she Eeplied " I'm very much afraid She's worse again " then with her head Bowed down she wept o'er little Nell ; How great her sorrow none, could tell. At last, Bob said, " I wonder who " Will watch her while we're in the show ?" 11 1 cannot leave my darling's side," Replied his wife " For woe betide " Us if when we perform to-night " Nell left her bed ; oh, that we might " Just for this once permission get " To stay with her. The Boss might let " Us off this night's performance, dear ! " Go ask him, Bob ! I know he's queer ; " But tell him of the dangerous state " Of Nell, and tell him that her fate, " Her life, depends upon the care " That we may now together share." 48 PIECES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. Then Bob to Mr. Hodgkins went With heavy heart, and head low bent ; He knew, too well, 'twas vain to ask The boss to let them off their task. And so, when his appeal he made, Hodgkins, in anger frowned, and said " I cannot help you, and if you " Refuse to act to-night the two " Of you must leave the show." Bob then In sadness turned away, and when He told his wife the showman's words, She wept, but said" We can't afford " To lose our place, and Nell so ill ; " Oh ! it is very hard ! Yet still . " We'll have to do our work somehow, " Or he will turn us from the show." So she and Bob performed that night Upon the high trapeze. The sight Was one which drew large crowds ; both old And young trudged through the biting cold That winter's eve, for Bob's great skill Was known. The show began to fill, And soon was packed. At length the time To start drew near. The clock did chime The hour of seven, when man and wife Appeared upon the scene, and rife With loud huzzas the tent did ring, As up the ropes fast hurrying They climbed on to the bars. And when The daring feats began the men And boys rose from their seats, and loud Were the shouts from the excited crowd. But see ! within the tent a child Appears, and very soon the wild Huzzas are hushed 'Tis little Nell ! " Mother," she cries. Oh ! who could tell The feelings of that mother's heart " Mother, I'm afraid." Then, a start ! PIECES FOE YOUNG PEOPLE. 49 A shriek ! Bob's wife had failed to reach The swinging bar, and, with a screech Of wild despair, she headlong fell Close by the side of little Nell, And there upon the ground they lay Quite still. At length the crowd give way For Bob, who, having seen her fall, Has left the trapeze bar. A pall Of sad despair spreads o'er his face, As down he kneels beside the place Where his young wife is lying dead ; Then, sobbing loud, he bows his head And cries, in anguish keen and wild, " God, save my darling wife and child." The people who had gathered round Removed the child from off the ground For little Nell was also dead Her spirit from this world had fled And sought to keep the news so sad From Bob, lest it should drive him mad, Nor told him that poor little Neh 1 Had gone to live where angels dwell. But he found out the worst ere long, And soon he left th' excited throng Looking with rage and anger round, He hastened off the Circus ground. When morning dawned two of the men Walked round the caravans, and when They came to where the showman slept, And found the door ajar, they stept Inside, and there upon the floor Hodgkins lay dead, and covered o'er With blood ! While, from the footprints there, They guess'd the cause of death. The bear Had somehow got out of its den. They turned towards Bruin's cage, and when 50 PIECES FOE YOUNG PEOPLE. They gazed upon the fastenings saw They had not been by Bruin's paw Unloosed. Who then had done the deed ? Some there were who guessed ; none agreed ; " It was an accident " a few Declared, but only one man knew. " THE SHIPWRECK." A STORY FOUNDED ON FACT. TWAS on a dark and stormy night, Far, far away across the sea ; No moon to shed her silvery light, The wind was blowing furiously. Near to a wild and rocky coast, Huge waves beat high against the shore, And in their madd'ning fury toss'd With noise loud as the thunder's roar. Now and again the wind would cease, And for awhile was hushed and calm ; Then suddenly it would increase, And e'en more wildly raged the storm. But in those moments calm and still The people who lived near the sea Heard cries for help, both loud and shrill, Which fill'd their hearts with misery. And, though the darkness hid from view The ship from which was heard the cry, The men upon the shore well knew A vessel was on rocks close by. And so, throughout that dreadful night, They waited for the sun to rise ; And when it cast its first faint light, A scene of terror met their eyes. PIECES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 51 For on the rocks, not far from land, They saw a ship, almost a wreck ; And, wildly waving with their hands, The passengers stood on the deck. Their cries for aid rang through the air, Yet helpless was the crowd, though brave No lifeboat on the shore was there, No common boat their lives could save. The people from the hills around Came crowding down upon the shore ; Yet no assistance could be found, For none had seen such storm before. At last the sound of hoofs was heard, And in the distance could be seen A horseman, who at length appeared Eiding with haste towards the scene. The crowd immediately gave way, As from his horse the rider sprang, And seized a rope without delay, While o'er the hills loud cheers now rang. This man they knew had often braved The fiercest storms upon the sea, And many a drowning one had saved A hero bold and true was he. The horse he rode was known as well The wonder of the country round ; Perfect in form, sound as a bell None other like it could be found. Just for a moment then he stood, To pat his favorite's arched neck ; Then glancing up in silent mood He turned his eyes towards the wreck. 52 PIECES FOE YOUNG PEOPLE. What were his thoughts as he stood there ? What scheme could he at once conceive ? How could he through the breakers bear, And those in peril now relieve ? Then turning to his horse again, " Jenny," he said, " Shall we now try To swim across the angry main?" The horse then neighed in fond reply, And looked into her master's eyes ; Then for a sign her head she bowed, As on her back, amid the cries Of wonder from the excited crowd, Without another word he sprang, And plunged into the raging deep " They will be lost," the cry now rang, And loudly did the people weep. But no ! They battle with the sea, And every moment brings them near The doomed vessel, where they see The seamen clinging with despair. At last they reach the vessel's side, And soon the rider springs on deck ; Then to the horse the rope is tied, And next they're seen to leave the wreck. While, clinging to the rope behind, A line of human beings is seen ; Oh, can they hold 'gainst sea and wind? Or will they perish yet between The ship and land ? Grave doubts arise, Lest horse and man should fail to reach The shore again but mid surprise They soon are close upon the beach. PIECES FOB YOUNG PEOPLE. 53 And now at length they gain the shore The precious cargo safely lands ; Oh, will they venture out for more ? For there now beckoning with their hands Others upon the wreck they see Crying for help. Then to his steed, He turns again " Jenny " says he " We must unto their cries give heed." So once again they face the storm, And battle with the wind and wave ; They reach the ship, where white with foam The hero stands resolved to save But, oh, it was a fearful thing, To see them plunging from the deck ; Yet safe to land again they bring A precious cargo from the wreck. And, as the people crowd around, Their loud huzzas ring through the air, As yet again the hero turned Towards the wreck, for clinging there A few remained,. whom he would try To rescue from a watery grave : Who still were crying piteously And tossing helpless on the wave. Once more he looked upon his horse, Her strength he knew was well nigh gone ; Yet soon determined on his course His love to man the victory won. Then instantly he jumped astride His ever bold and gallant steed, And plunged into the seething tide, Nor to the raging sea gave heed. 54: PIECES FOB YOUNG PEOPLE. They swim again, though slowly on Towards the sinking ship ; they reach The vessel's side at last : " Well done " Bursts from the crowd upon the beach. Ere long each one the rope holds fast, And then into the sea they leap. Oh ! Will they all be saved at last ? Can man and horse their strength still keep ? Ah ! What a fearful struggle stay ! They disappear ! Yet soon again They rise ! Oh, will their strength give way And will this last attempt prove vain ? Alas ! Alas ! A mightier wave Than all before above them rolls They sink ! And find a watery grave No more are seen those precious souls. And thus this noble-hearted man And faithful horse both perished there ; While on the shore the tidings ran The people wept in deep despair. And to this day, when storms beat high Upon that coast, the tale is told And many a strong man heaves a sigh, As he portrays that hero bold. "BOB, THE FIREMAN, OR AN INCIDENT OF THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER." No ! Don't say that, sir, for it hurts me so I'd rather you gave me a cruel blow Than speak like that of Bob ! 'Tis true his face Is full of ugly scars. Yet no disgrace Are they to him ! Just listen, and I'll tell You of the sad calamity, that fell PIECES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 55 On Bob, the fireman, many years ago, And how those dreadful scars came on his brow." But ere this story I to you relate, Perhaps it would be best, if I should state The reason why those words above were said, And what to this most touching story led. 'Twas on the " Fifth, Guy Fawkes' day," when I Went for an evening's stroll, and passing by The station of the Fire Brigade I saw A man in charge. The air being cold and raw, I stepped inside to have a smoke and chat, And while away the time. I scarce had sat One minute, when a man appeared, whose face Was dreadful to behold. Hardly a trace Of human form was left. He nodded to The fireman as he passed, then going through A door, he disappeared. I with a start Exclaimed, " Oh ! What a monster." Then a smart Of conscience stung me, as I looked upon The face of my companion. In a tone Of kind rebuke, he said, " Don't say that, sir ; You don't know Bob, or you wouldn't, I'll aver For, though his face is ugly, yet his heart Is good, and true, and brave ; for oft the part That he has played in days gone by has shown That he a hero was, and through the town No man is honoured more. No, he is not A fireman now, though always on the spot To lend a helping hand if needed. He And his wife yes, he's married and you see They live in rooms above. ' How's that?' you say. You'd like to hear the story ? Well, you may ; It's just the night to tell it. 'Tis a tale I've often told, and yet it ne'er grows stale." The fireman then commenced this story to relate, How, fifteen years that night, Bob met his fate. " We sat down here, just as we two are now, 56 PIECES FOE YOUNG PEOPLE. Smoking our pipes, when suddenly the blow Of whistle sounded. 'Twas the well known call To duty ! Two minutes later, and all The men were ready for a start. Then down The horses madly galloped through the town. Bob Anderson and I stood side by side, And both were doubtless thinking of his bride ; For, ere th' alarm was given, our quiet chat Had been of Nelly Lee, and as we'd sat Upon this very seat he'd told me all About his coming marriage, while his tall And well-built form had shook with laughter, when At his request I'd promised there and then To act as his best man. And as we sped Swiftly along the busy streets I said, ' I hope we shall not, on your wedding-day, Travel so fast ' ; and Bob turned round to say, ' Perhaps there will not be one, for may be ' That Nelly will not wed the likes o' me.' Just at that moment, as the engine flew Along the crowded streets, there came in view A sight that almost staggered us. I guess There was no more time for talk, for in less Than half a minute, sir, we heard the cries Of them poor wretches for help, while our eyes Took in their peril at a glance ; for there, Clinging to the windows, in wild despair, Both men and women stood. I should have told You, sir, it was a lodging-house, where old And young were staying on that awful night ; Nor shall I e'er forget the dreadful sight. The fire, which started in the rooms below, Had not yet reached the upper floor, and now The engine stopp'd : and, sir, I never knew Our chaps get quicker into business. Few Fire brigades could equal us, for our men Were strong and brave, and so I need not then PIECES FOE YOUNG PEOPLE. 57 Describe how hard we worked to rescue those Poor precious lives. At last the cry arose That all were saved, but soon we heard a shrill And piercing shriek for help, and on the sill Of window in the topmost room we saw A woman with a child. A thrill of awe Then ran through every heart. And now ere long The tongues of flame had reached her, and among The cries below, her voice was heard, " Oh ! save My child !" 'Twas then Bob Anderson the brave Appeared, and up the longest ladder he Sprang quickly, while the crowd tremendously Then cheered him. But ere he gained her side, With a wild cry, which echoed far and wide, She shrieked again, " Oh ! Save my child," and then She threw it down below ; but two strong men Received it in their arms, both safe and sound, Or 't would have fallen dead upon the ground. The woman swooned, and back she fell, ere Bob Could reach the window-sill. A bitter throb Of grief and woe then shook the crowds below, For Bob had also disappeared. And now The smoke and flames each moment thicker grew, And both, alas ! were hidden from our view Yet not for long, for suddenly I saw A blackened form appear again, and lo ! Within his arms Bob Anderson now bore The woman he had gone to save. While o'er The gaping crowd deep silence reigned, until With scarce a moment's pause I with a will Undaunted up the ladder quickly climbed, And first I seized the woman's form, begrimed With smoke, and scorched with fire ; then passed her down To those below she w r as not dead, and soon Both Bob and I were safely on the ground ; But he, poor fellow, sad to tell, was found So sadly burned he had to be conveyed 58 PIECES FOE YOUNG PEOPLE. Unto the hospital, where it was said He never would be cured. ; . ^ ^ ., # A week had passed, And I had been unconscious, but at last I learned Bob's fate. He had the shock survived, And almost by a miracle he lived Yet not the Bob I saw that eve ascend The fire-escape ; for when I found my friend In hospital I there beheld a being Whose face I hardly recognized. And seeing Him I wept aloud with grief # .,, .,, .,. s .. Months had fled, And then one day a message came, which said That Anderson was ready then to leave The hospital. So off I went to receive And welcome back my friend. I scarce can tell The deep emotions of my heart, for well I knew that Nelly Lee, his love and pride, Would be ashamed to see him at her side. And so it proved, for Nell had scarcely seen His sad disfigured face, when she had been To visit him, as he unconscious lay, Nor thought that with the change would pass away Her love for him, yet so it was ; and when He went to see her, why she there and then Kef used to look at him. So all was up Between them, and poor Bob his bitter cup Drank to the dregs, bidding to life's fond dreaui Of happiness farewell This was to him More cruel far than anything beside, And oft he wished he in the fire had died But time passed on, and Bob grew strong again, Yet I could see his heart was filled with pain ; And, though a pension granted by the town Provided for his wants, yet he had grown PIECES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 59 More melancholy still ; for oft he heard The lads cry out, ' Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes ' which stirred His heart with grief. But I must hurry on And finish up my tale. It chanced upon Another night, just four years after that On which Bob met his fate. And as I sat And thought of days gone by, who should appear But Bob ! I should have told you, sir, that here He often came to lend a helping hand, Though not a regular member of the band. Well, scarce five minutes pass'd, before we heard Th' alarum ring, and up we jumped and stirred Ourselves. The fire was in a well-known square So Bob at once resolved to go, for there Lived Nelly Lee. And, as we dashed away Along the crowded streets, I heard him say, ' I wonder if it's Nellie's home ?' His face, Though marred, was bright and beaming, not a trace Of fear was there, and very soon we came In sight of Portland Square. To Bob the name Had precious been, in days gone by ; and now As we arrived, and saw the fierce flames glow, He cried, ' 'Tis Nelly's father's shop !' ' Come men,' He yelled ; ' Come, hurry up ! look sharp !' and then He shouted out, " These folks are friends of mine." * Yes, pretty friends,' we thought. But at the sign From Bob, each man worked with a will. The fire Was gaining ground, and soon the flames leaped higher, And then 'twas seen that nothing now could save The house and shop from ruin. Yet bold and brave The firemen worked, assisted by the crowd, To save whate'er they could. Just then a loud And piercing cry was heard, " O save my child." 'Twas the voice of Mr. Lee, whose face was wild With deep despair, for Nell had disappeared 60 PIECES FOB YOUNG PEOPLE. Within the burning shop, and it was feared She would be lost. It seems that she had gone To fetch her father's cash-box, and upon Beaching the upper room, where it was kept, Had turned to bring it down. The fire had crept Up through the staircase, and the flames arose And beat her back. 'Twas then, so I suppose, She thought of Bob, for she had seen The bold and fearless man, as he had been Urging the men to rescue all they could, And save her father's property. She stood For a moment, then to the window went, And soon above the din the air was rent With a loud voice: "Oh ! save me, Bob !" cried she. Bob heard her voice, and like a hero he Sprang up the fire-escape, and in his arm He bore her gently down, quite free from harm. No, she wasn't hurt, and since T've heard her say That all her former love returned that day As she felt Bob's arm around her ; and when The fire was out I found them once again As thick as tw T o young turtle doves. And now I think, sir, you will guess the ending How A short time after, they were wed. And I, yes, was Bob's best man. And, sir, that's why 1 always speak a word for Bob, my friend." Just as he brought his story to an end, A chubby little chap, some six years old, Came trotting in his hair, which shone like gold, Hung round his neck in curls. "And who is this?" I asked. " Why Bob's youngest child." Then a kiss. " Hark ye ! he calls me uncle ; I forgot To tell you I wed his sister, Charlotte PIECES FOB YOUNG PEOPLE. 61 No, sir ; don't apologise," he smiling said, " I know you meant no harm." And then he led, Me up the stairs, saying, " I'll introduce " You to my friends above." And there, all spruce And neat, they sat around the fireside grate, And glad were they to see me. Need I state, As I now end my story sad, but true, That when I pass that way, as I oft do, I always step inside, my friends to see, And with a smile they gladly welcome me. STOBM AT SEA. IN an old fishing village, lying near the sea, On the Eastern Coast of Yorkshire, I chanced to be Once staying with a friend. I had gone there to rest, Also for change of air ; and hailing from the West, From a large and crowded city, I quickly found [round My health was much improved, and as the weeks went I and my friend together often took a walk, To smoke an evening pipe, and have a quiet talk. I can remember well, though years have roll'd away, A fearful storm one night, as if 'twere yesterday Oh, such a storm ! I fancy I can see it now, And seem as if I felt the wild winds fiercely blow. 'Twas in the Autumn, and the day had been quite calm, Just such a day as oftentimes precedes a storm The sun was sinking, and the Western sky shone red As if 'twere bathed in liquid fire. The mountain's head Was crowned with crimson glow. The sea appeared at rest. Th' aquatic birds swam gently o'er its placid breast. The fishermen had drawn their boats high on the beach, And, as they homeward walked and heard the sea-gulls screech, 62 PIECES FOE YOUNG PEOPLE. They gravely shook their heads in ominous dismay, Saying, " There'll be a storm, before the break of day." Ere long a change was seen the sky became o'ercast With heavy sable clouds, the moaning wind at last Began to blow a gale. The lightning's flash we saw ! We heard the distant thunder peal; and struck with awe, We hastened to the village, from which my friend and I Not thinking of the gathering storm, or darkening sky Had wandered far away ; but ere it came in view The rain in torrents poured, the wind much fiercer blew. And as we hastened on, drawing towards the sea, We saw the foaming billows dashing furiously rn the rocks below ; then trembling at the sight, prayed "God help the men, who on the sea to-night Are battling with the waves." And as we gazed upon The seething foam, we heard, distinct and clear, a gun, Which, very well we knew, came from some vessel doomed. For, as the lightning flashed ! and bellowing thunder boomed ! We in the distance saw a helpless ship being driven Upon the surging sea, with sails in tatters riven. Then coming towards the beach, over the village green, The fishermen now ran, for they had also seen The vessel in distress. And with them they did bring Their stoutest ropes and life-buoys, while we, hurrying Through the blinding storm to meet them, could plainly see The ship w r as drifting to the rocks, then piteously, Loud cries for help were heard, rising above the sound Of wind and waves. At once the men, with ropes around Their waists, dashed through the surf towards the helpless craft, Where, clinging to the vessel's masts, both fore and aft, Were seen the shipwrecked crew. And then again we prayed " God save these helpless men " E'en as these words were said The doomed vessel reeled ! and on the rocks was cast, A hopeless wreck ! but on the surging waves the mast PIECES FOB YOUNG PEOPLED 63 And rigging tossed, while clinging to them could be seen Two brave and stalwart men, and holding up between Them in their brawny arms they bore a little child It was the captain's child" Oh save us !" loud and wild The cry rang out from these brave men. A rope was thrown, They seized it and were saved. But all the rest went down, And with the ship were lost. So doth my story end ; Yet often, when I pay a visit to my friend, In sadness we refer to that most awful sight, Nor shall we e'er forget the storm that Autumn night. ADVICE TO BOYS. SPEAK A KIND WORD WHEN YOU CAN." JUST speak a kind word when you can, boys, For there's many a heart full of sadness That you might relieve with a word, boys, And sorrow would change into gladness. 11 Kind words never die," it is said, boys, Though they may, for awhile, not be heeded; Yet some day they'll bring their reward, boys, And prove just the words that were needed. How many there are who require, boys, A few words which are loving and cheering, To help them in shunning the wrong, boys, And save them from rocks they are nearing. For many are tempted to sin, boys, Who for help are constantly calling ; And if you keep on the look-out, boys, Perchance you'll prevent them from falling. And if you but once should succeed, boys, In saving a soul that is erring, You never again would be found, boys, Kind words to the needy deferring. 64 PIECES FOE YOUNG PEOPLE. -ADVICE TO GIRLS." IN walking the pathway through life, girls, You must be sure and keep a straight line Nor swerve to the right or the left, girls, But the wiles of the tempter decline. For often there lurks in the way, girls, Many dangers you cannot behold ; And if you step out of the path, girls, It will lead you to sorrows untold. Then be careful as each step you take, girls, And let virtue your motto remain ; That your life in the future may be, girls, Kept free from impurity's stain. And if this advice you will keep, girls, You shall reap a rich harvest of joy ; And receive an eternal reward, girls, Where no tempter can ever destroy. MY MOTHER. WHOSE voice, when in my childhood's years, In sweetest tones allayed my fears ; Whose soft hand wiped away my tears ? My Mother's. Who nursed me when, with parched tongue, And fever'd brow, nigh death I hung ; And softest lullabies then sung ? My Mother. Who heard me lisp my feeble prayers, And soothed my sorrows, and my cares ; Who guarded me 'mid youthful snares ? My Mother. PIECES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 65 Who shielded me amid the strife, Which in my boyhood's days was rife ; Who pointed out the path of life ? My Mother. Who, when in sad distress and grief, Brought to my troubled heart relief, And made the hours seem bright and brief? My Mother. But well do I remember, how At length she lay with fevered brow ; Twas then I cried, in pain and woe, My Mother ! And, oh ! what bitter tears I shed, When kneeling by the silent bed, On which was lying cold and dead, My Mother. :.: And now, though years have passed away, And she lies mouldering with the clay, I gaze upon her grave, and say, My Mother ADVICE TO THE YOUNG. IN climbing the ladder of fame, If you would successful prove, And win for yourselves a great name, Be careful as each step you move. For many there are who begin, And climb very well for a time ; But soon they are tempted by sin And fail ere life's at its prime. PIECES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. In climbing the ladder of life, Make the first rung your desire ; And you will gain strength in the strife, As you mount up those that are higher. For that's the way all men have done, Who've climbed to the top with success, Who the nation's best plaudits have won, And God delighted to bless. Let Excelsior your motto remain, And fearless your efforts to rise ; Then you shall successfully gain The fame and the honour you prize. And, if through life's pathway you keep The advice to you we now give, For the fruit of your toil you shall reap The hero's reward, while you live. SCRIPTURE NARRATIVES. 67 SCRIPTURE NARRATIVES IN RHYME. THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN. Wrapt in the splendour of an Eastern sky, The pinnacled towers of the proud city lie ; In majestic repose, unconscious of danger, She slumbers nor heedeth the voice of the Stranger, Who tells of her doom. The ninth hour of the day is fast drawing near, And the streets, which where silent, now busy appear ; To the Temple far-famed, eager feet are approaching To offer their sacrifice No business encroaching On that sacred hour. Men of all ranks and grades obey the sacred call, And through the Temple gates are passing all But see ! Here cometh one who in rank is surely higher Than all who yet have passed Is he a saintly sire, That thus he comes ? With slow majestic tread he draweth nigh, Ascends the polished steps, and stands on high Within the sacred precincts of Jehovah's Temple ; Truly a man of noble presence, an example To all around. 68 SCRIPTURE NARRATIVES. Who is this worshipper ? Doubtless some Jewish Prince Or a man of high authority And hence How lordly his mien, his aspect how commanding How conscious of his dignity thus demanding Our attention. Also a man of wealth, for he is richly dress'd A robe of finest texture is hung across his breast ; And among the folds of his silken turban gleaming Are jewels both bright and rare, sparkling and beaming 'Neath the sun's bright rays. Nay, more, he is a man of sanctity, for see How deep and broad the hem of his garments be, While on the marble floor his embroidered robe is flowing And on his forehead bound are texts of Scripture showing His zeal for the truth. He is a Pharisee, a man of righteousness, Also a man of impregnable holiness ! Behold ! an example of human perfection Of unblemished purity a reflection Of pure godliness. And now the white-robed priests their sacred call attend, While, densely thick, the clouds of incense rich ascend On the assembled throng deep silence reigns supremely, As the Pharisee composed, with outward form so seemly, Prepares to pray. But stay ! We hear the sound of footsteps drawing near, Which break upon the solemn stillness resting there Whoever can it be, that dares so late to enter Into the holy temple, and thus to venture Within the sacred shrine ? SCRIPTURE NARRATIVES. 69 See, through the arched doorway, in dark-hued garments Enters a man with face so sorrowful and sad ; [clad, Slowly he moves along, with shame and sorrow bending His eyes are downward cast No pomp his steps He is a Publican. [attending Into the darkest corner, slowly and sadly steals This poor despised Publican What misery he feels- No place is there for him, where the sun is brightly streaming So richly on the pavement stones, and beaming So brilliantly. The spot on which the Pharisee stands with form erect Is not the place for him, whom no one doth respect If nothing else would keep him from showing his emotion, The look of that bold worshipper would hinder his devotion, And crush his burdened soul. So he standeth afar off, nor dares to glance to heaven With downcast head, and his heart with anguish riven, He smites upon his breast And yet in hope relying On Him who reads the heart, with earnest fervour crying, " Be merciful to me." But hark ! The Pharisee has now begun to pray ; And, as with folded arms he stands, we hear him say " God, I thank Thee, I'm not as other men, not even " As this Publican " But will the God of heaven Listen to such mockery ? No ! No ! His pompous words fall back again to earth, A vast emptiness to which his pride gave birth His false devotions end, and, with a haughtier bearing Than before, he leaves the holy Temple, daring To think himself secure. 70 SCEIPTUBE NABRATIVES. Oh ! Blind Pharisee ! And canst thou thus presume Upon Jehovah's mercy ? Then listen to thy doom " He that exalteth himself, and seeks to merit heaven, " Shall be abased" by God, and from his presence driven To everlasting woe ! The Publican now leaves the Temple's sacred shrine How radiant beams his face, so full of joy divine And as with cheerful step he seeks his humble dwelling He hears an inward voice, in tones of peace revealing " Thou art justified." These words our Saviour spake to those who put their trust In outward rites and forms, yet were to men unjust : "This man went down in peace" for thus it is recorded ' ' He that humbleth himself shall be by God rewarded "With everlasting life." CHEIST STILLING THE TEMPEST. 'Twas night, and on the Sea of Galilee A ship was tossing on the billowy wave ; The crew were fearful, lest they soon might be Cast on the deep, and find a watery grave. A little while before, the sea was calm, As in the boat they sprang, and left the shore ; But suddenly upon them came the storm, Nor had they seen such storm-tossed waves before. They battled with the wind and waves until Their strength had well nigh gone, but all in vain The storm still raged the boat began to fill, Yet on they toiled upon the angry main. At last they cried for help " Oh ! Master ! Save Us, or we perish in the yawning deep "- For, there was One, whose power could still the wave- But, worn and weary, He lay fast asleep. SCKIPTUBE NARRATIVES. 71 Yet, at this cry, He rose and with His word He hushed the winds, and bade the billows cease And straightway there was calm, for Christ the Lord The stormy sea controlled, and there was peace. And often we, upon the sea of life Are tossed about by angry winds that blow, Yet we forget, amid the toil and strife, That there is One to whom we then can go ; And, if we cry for help, we soon shall find The Master at our side, whose voice can still The raging sea control, and calm the wind, For they do yet obey the Saviour's will. THE BIETH OF CHRIST. 'TwAS midnight, and over Bethlehem's plains there reigned Deep silence, nor could a sound be heard, save perhaps The distant night bird's screech, or dismal howl of wolf In search of prey, which, to appease their hunger leave Their darkest haunts, and fly, or prowl into the night That they perchance may find a poor stray lamb, or sheep, Which, having wandered far beyond the shepherd's care, Has lost itself amid the tangled briers and thorns. Upon these plains, in deepest solitude, there watched The shepherds by their flocks, when suddenly a blaze Of light upon them came, and, falling to the ground, Trembling with fear they lay, nor had they strength to rise, Till listening they heard a voice distinct and clear, Which bade them " Fear not " While looking up they saw The plains were lit with splendour, that exceeded far The noonday's sun in brightness, for around them shone " The Glory of the Lord " And 'mid the dazzling rays An Angel stood, who thus proclaimed the Saviour's birth. 72 SCRIPTURE NARRATIVES. " Behold I bring glad tidings of great joy to all, "For unto you is born this day of David's line " A Saviour, which is Christ the Lord, and for a sign, " In Bethlehem's manger laid, you there shall find the babe 11 In swaddling clothing wrapp'd." Then suddenly there joined A multitude of heavenly hosts, who sang God's praise, And made the distant hills re-echo with their song. The shepherds then arose from off the ground, entranc'd With joy ! for all their fears had fled, and hastening Away they went to see the Babe in Bethlehem. Nor did they stop, till they beheld with wondering eyes The infant Christ Whom having seen, returned at once The joyful tidings to make known to all around. And although eighteen hundred years and more have pass'd Since Christ our Saviour's birth by angels was proclaim'd On Bethlehem's plains, yet still we hail with joyful song Each Christmas day, and join in sweetest strains, to make The Anthem swell again, as we the happy morn Now greet which brings the tidings of the Saviour's birth While often do our hearts with love and joy o'erfiow To Him who came on earth salvation to bestow. THE PAKABLE OF THE SOWER. BEHOLD ! A sower went forth to sow, And, as he scattered the seed amain : Some fell by the wayside, But did not long abide ; For the fowls picked up the fallen grain. Some fell on stony ground, and these soon Sprang up. But when the sun's cheering rays Should have fed and cherished, They were scorched and perished ; For they had no roots and withered away. SCEIPTURE NAIiBATIVES. 73 And some were sown among the thorns, Which soon sprang up and choked the seed. So no fruit did these bear, For they could not grow there, 'Mid the tangling briers, and the clinging weeds. But others fell on ground that was good, And they brought forth fruit, not weeds or tares : Some brought forth sixty-fold, Others an hundred-fold, For so God's word unto us declares. " Who hath ears to hear, then let him hear," Our Saviour to the disciples said ; For they could not perceive, Neither could they believe, Till in their minds His wisdom He shed. And then He explained the parable thus " When any man heareth these words of mine, " And he knoweth them not, " Then the seed he hath got " The wicked one taketh by foul design." This is the man whom our Lord compares To the wayside hearer, whose heart is hard ; For he doth not believe, Neither doth he receive The words that are preached, nor reap the reward. The next one is he who heareth the word, And anon receives it without delay : This is the stony ground, Where not much earth is found, And soon it withers, and parcheth away. Then he that receiveth seed among thorns Is he whom the world with riches deceives ; And his holy desires 'Mid the tangling briers Are choked, and bring forth nothing but leaves. 74 SCRIPTURE NARRATIVES. But he that receiveth into good ground Is he that heareth and doth understand The life-giving word, And fruit to the Lord Even an hundred-fold spreads o'er the land. LET NOT YOUR HEARTS BE TROUBLED. " LET not your hearts be troubled," Were the words the Saviour said As He spake to His disciples, Whose hopes were withered and dead. They were gathered there in sadness, In the hush of eventide ; And their hearts were full of sorrow, Though Jesus was at their side. Do you ask, " What made them fearful ?" ' Or enquire, " Why so sad were they ?" It was because their Lord and Master Had said He was going away. But Jesus bade them be cheerful And a promise to them He did give " I go to prepare a place for you, "And with me ye then shall live." " If ye love me, keep my sayings, " And I to my Father will pray ; " That He may send the Comforter, " Who shall ever with you stay." Then be not afraid to tarry Awhile in this world below, For He, your Teacher, will guide you, And heal all your grief and woe. SCRIPTURE NARRATIVES. 75 " CHRIST RAISING THE WIDOW'S SON." OUT, through the city gates, a funeral train Is passing on and slowly moves along, While, following close behind, a widowed mother Treads with feeble step and tottering limbs ; And as she walks, with head bowed down, she weeps Such bitter tears, which, falling to the ground, Call forth the deepest sympathy of those Who with her follow on towards the tomb. This weeping woman's heart is torn with grief, For on that funeral bier they carry forth Her son, her only son, who long had been The joy and comfort of her life, and who Had often cheered her in her great distress : For many years on him she had relied, And on him built her future hope and joy ; But now her hope had fled, her joy was gone For he, her darling son, lay withered, dead ! Seized by the mortal foe in manhood's prime, A corpse he lies, and in the silent grave Must soon be placed to moulder in the dust. But hark ! A voice is heard, a voice so full Of sympathy and love, that says, " Weep not." And going to the bier on which the young man lay, The Saviour touched it (for He it was who Bade the widow's tears be dry). And the men Who bore the bier stood still, and wondered at The stranger's words. Then, with that voice which wakes The sleeping dead, He cried ! " Young man ; I say "To thee, ' Arise !' " And straightway he, who had Been dead, rose up with life and power renewed To cheer again his widowed mother's breast And help life's burden to remove, and thus Bring joy and happiness where deep despair Had dwelt, and banish sorrow, fear and care. 76 SCRIPTURE NARRATIVES. And so may we amid life's sorrows find In Him our Comforter for still He lives Though now we cannot see His loving face Or hear His gentle voice (as in the flesh), We yet by faith must trust His power to save Us in the darkest hour of life, e'en when The cold and icy hand of death removes Our loved ones from our midst, and o'er the grave We bend, and listen to the sad, sad words Which sound upon our ears, " Dust unto dust." For has He not declared in words of truth, " I am the Eesurrection and the Life." And he who thus believes shall live again In that eternal world of peace and joy. CHEIST FEEDING THE MULTITUDES. ALL through the long and dreary day The busy crowds the Saviour press'd; They heeded not the sun's hot ray But followed on nor thought of rest. They listened to His loving voice, His miracles Divine they saw They heard Him bid sad hearts rejoice ! And banish all their grief and woe. But now, the shades of eventide Are gathering o'er them, thick and fast : Yet still they linger at his side, Although the day is nearly past. Th' disciples then to Jesus went, And bade Him send the crowds away ; " The day," they said, " is now far spent, "Nor can they longer with us stay." But " Christ, the Lord," compassion had, And heeded not the loud complaint Of His disciples. So he said, " Give them to eat, lest they should faint. SCRIPTURE NARRATIVES. 77 Then the disciples stood aghast ! Nor understood their Lord's reply. And so, with great surprise, they asked " How can we, Lord, their needs supply ?" " Two hundred pennyworth of bread, " Would not for them sufficient be." For they forgot, how He had fed The multitudes in Galilee. But when the people gathered round He bade them place the hungry crowd In fifties down upon the ground, And then His sacred head He bowed. Then blessing, brake the five small loaves And two small fishes all they had Thus Jesus fed the multitudes, And made their hearts feel light and glad. " About five thousand " did partake Of bread and fish till all were filled, While, as the food our Saviour brake, It multiplied just as He willed. " And when the fragments which remained " Were gathered up," behold, 'twas found The bread and fish so much had gained That great surprise was felt around. Thus often did the Saviour show- In times of need His wondrous power, And willingly did He bestow His aid in many a trying hour. And, though 'tis eighteen hundred years Since Christ His miracles displayed, He still will banish all our fears If we but ask Him for His aid. 78 POEMS ON THE SEASONS. POEMS ON THE SEASONS SPRING. SPKING'S AWAKING. The winter's snow again has disappeared The sun pours forth it's warm and cheering rays While Nature greets its resurrecting power, And with new life the hedgerows and the trees Are clothed once more in Spring's habiliments. The tiny flowers peep from their grassy beds, And with their lovely tints of varied hue The vales are deck'd. And as we walk along The meadow's path, we tread with careful step, Lest carelessly we crush beneath our feet The primrose or the violet, which fill The morning air with perfume. Suddenly The sweet and joyous harbingers of spring With songs enchanting greet our ears : the thrush In yonder tree is warbling forth his notes, Both shrill and clear, in joyful melody The skylark mounts on lofty wings, and soars Into the air, trilling its merry tune, And adds its cheerful tribute to the sun, Which, rising in the Eastern sky, illumines The earth with splendour, shedding its bright rays O'er mountain, hill, and dale. POEMS ON THE SEASONS. 79 And as we gaze Upon the handiwork of God, our hearts Are filled with rapture, and with heaven-born joy ; While chords of harmony within our souls Are touched as by skill'd fingers on the harp And mingling with the rippling rivulet, Which sparkling flows beside the grassy bank, Or blending with the voice of singing bird, We join in songs of praise to Him whose power And goodness fill the earth. But language fails, And poets in their happiest muse can ne'er Portray the feelings of a sincere soul, Who thus doth meditate upon His works ; Nor can the pen of mortal man describe Howe'er inspired the joy and love which flow In full and copious streams to God, who is The Author and the Giver of all good. -THE THEUSH": A MAECH SONG. Welcome, sweet bird, thou harbinger of spring ; Thy tuneful notes sweet joy and gladness bring ; Soon as the dawn appears in Eastern sky, We hear thy voice in cheerful melody. Again at eve, as sinks the sun to rest Behind the western hills, in crimson vest ; And as the man of toil, with weary tread, Eeturns unto his cot with upturned head He greets thy joyous song ; for soon he knows That winter's stormy winds and chilling snows Shall disappear, while spring returns again, Bringing its sunshine and its gentle rain, 80 POEMS ON THE SEASONS. Sing on, thou king of songsters, for thy mate Is listening to thy warbling, sat in state On topmost branch of yonder lofty tree ; And, as she hears thy evening's lullaby, She for thy coming waits just as the bride Awaits the coming home, at eventide, Of him, whose cheerful song and welcome voice Bring peace, and make her loving heart rejoice. LINES ON SPEING. The winter's storms again have pass'd away, and Spring Once more asserts her power, and with her mantle green She decks each mountain, hill and dale. New life is seen Displayed where'er the eye may turn, while that which seemed Decayed and dead, bursts forth again with life renewed. And we behold the trees, which but as yesterday Were bare, and showed their naked twigs, to-day are clothed In garb of varied hue, and soon will blossom forth In promise of the fruitful harvest that shall come. The meadows everywhere are decked with flowers so gay The daisy peeps out of its bed, and opens wide Its tiny bloom to greet the morning sun. The primrose And the violets, too, their carpets rich have spread, Which fill the air with sweet perfume. While over all The gentle zephyr wafts its cool refreshing breeze, Imparting life and health to everything around. The birds on bush and tree trill out their merry song, And sweetest music greets our ears, as warbling forth In lofty tuneful notes, each one unto its mate, Their voices ring again, while echoes answer back In sweet refrain, and thus doth joy and gladness spring Into our hearts, then bursting forth in thankfulness POEMS ON THE SEASONS. 81 And praise to Him whose hand directs the Seasons in Their course, and who decrees not one of them shall fail While time on earth endures, our heartfelt songs now blend In tuneful harmony to God who reigns above. WELCOME SPKING. HAIL ! gentle, sweet and lovely Spring, We welcome thee again ; Thou mak'st the song of gladness ring, O'er mountain, hill and plain. With tints of rich and varied hue, Thou deck'st the landscape o'er ; And, with thy touch, appears in view Each tiny bud and flower. The meadow's carpet green is spread, On w r hich the lambkins run, And gambol, frisk, and jump ahead, Or bask beneath the sun. The primrose and the violets shed Their perfume through the air ; The daisies peep out of their bed, Thy cheering rays to share. The thrush his merry song now sings In notes both clear and sweet ; The skylark mounts on lofty wings, The morning's dawn to greet. The cuckoo now, from milder climes, Eeturns across the sea, And warbles forth in \velcome chimes Its plaintive melody. 82 POEMS ON THE SEASONS. And in the hush of eventide The nightingale doth trill Its evening songs, which far and wide The vales with music fill. All nature thus proclaims again, In one united song, Thy advent, while in soft refrain Its echoes we prolong. SPEINGTIDE THOUGHTS AT SUNEISE. THE morning dawns, and o'er the mountain top The sun is gently rising, and will soon, In his majestic splendour, shed his light O'er hill and dale, on woodland and on plain Cov'ring with golden rays each forest tree, And decking every tiny shrub and flower With beauteous beams, which, mingling with the dew, Will sparkle forth like jewels bright and rare. The birds lift up their heads from 'neath their wings, And rise to greet with joy the new-born day ; Then mounting on swift pinions through the air Make hill and dale re-echo with their songs. The little lambs begin to frisk and jump In merry gambols o'er the meadows green, And, with their unhorn'd heads, they butt and toss Each other in their wantonness and play. The labourer wakes, and, rising from his bed, He bids dull sleep begone, then forth he goes With cheerful step his daily bread to win. And, as with sunny smile or merry song He wends his way into the fields beyond Made mellow by the winter's frost and snow He takes the seed and spreads it o'er the land ; Nor does he doubt that, when the summer's sun POEMS ON THE SEASONS. 83 Hath shed abroad its warm and cheering rays, A rich and plenteous harvest it will yield. For God hath promised in His sacred word " That they who sow shall reap " And here we learn A lesson, which should regulate our life, For all are sowing, either wheat or tares, And all will, too, a harvest reap. Oh, may The seed we sow, whether mid smiles or tears, Be sown in faith and hope : so shall we gain, In God's own time, the fruit of all our toil, And when the last great reaping time appears And angels shall descend to gather in At God's command the ripe and golden grain, We shall be found among the wheat, not tares, And hear the welcome shout of " Harvest Home." SUMMER. SUMMER THOUGHTS. THE summer's sun shines brightly, and the sky Is blue and clear, nor flits a cloud across Its wide expanse. The soft air wafts its smile O'er hill and dale, and sweetest perfume spreads Around our path, as we through meadows tread With light and joyous step, e'en careful, lest Our feet should trample on the smallest flower That blooms, which lifts its tiny head to catch The sunbeams as they fall. And as we gaze Upon the lovely scene, our hearts are filled With joy, and songs of praise our lips employ. The birds, in bush and tree, are warbling forth In sweetest strains their morning songs to Him Who is the giver of all good, Whose will Commands the seasons as they come and go 84 POEMS ON THE SEASONS. Each one in its appointed course, for He Hath said while time endures it shall be so ; Not one of them shall fail seed time, harvest, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, follow In their successive rounds : sunshine after rain ; Plenty follows want ; rest treads on the heels Of toil ; and all in turn give evidence Of the Almighty power of Him, whose wisdom Truth and goodness eternally display That " God is love " while we with joyful song His praise prolong in one united strain. THE JOY OF HAKVEST. HARVEST time, glad harvest time, again is here ; The corn is ripe, and bends its full and laden ear; Where'er the eye can reach, the rich and golden grain Is ready for the reaper's sythe, and once again The joyous shout, the shout of " Harvest Home," is heard, And, listening to the sound, our hearts with joy are stirred. The trees are filled again with ripening fruits, and bend Beneath their weight, while lovely flowers their fragrance blend And fill the air with perfume rich and rare, while all Around, on hill, through dale, the voice of nature calls For gratitude and love to Him who rules for good, And who provides His creatures year by year with food. Then raise again the shout of "Harvest home," and make The hills and valleys ring, as ye your offerings take From out your bounteous stores ; and as ye thus present Your tithes to Him, and in pure adoration bent, Let gladness fill your hearts, and words of praise employ Your noblest powers in songs of everlasting joy. POEMS ON THE SEASONS. 85 AUTUMN. AN AUTUMNAL EEVEEIE. THE Autumn leaves were falling fast, The wind blew cold and chill, As through the woodland glade I passed Beside the rippling rill. A few short weeks before, the dell With music soft and sweet Ke-echoed, and its magic spell Had stayed my wandering feet. But now the songs of birds were hushed, And nothing could be heard Save the rustling of the falling leaves By Autumn breezes stirred. And, as I wandered on and on, Close by the babbling brook, And gazed the changing scenes upon, My thoughts in fancy took Me back once more to bygone days, Those days of long ago ; And wrapt in mournful memories My heart o'erflowed with woe. For there in fancy I could see The form I loved so well What blissful rambles there -^ Ah, me; What joys I cannot tell. But many years have passed away Since we walked side by side, And I, who now am old and gray, Lament my long lost bride. 86 POEMS ON THE SEASONS. For in yon cold churchyard she sleeps Beneath the grassy mound, Where oft I kneel and lonely weep Upon that sacred ground. AN ODE TO AUTUMN. SUMMER-TIME is ended, Harvest too is past ; Fruits and grain are gathered Safely in at last Hark ! The song of gladness, Einging loud and clear See ! The swift wing'd swallows, Circling in the air, For their flight preparing, To warmer regions bound Leaves in showers are falling Swiftly to the ground, Toss'd by Autumn breezes, O'er the pathway strewn Evening gathers quickly. And the silvery moon Hides along in splendour Stars their lustre shed, Like pure diamonds sparkling Twinkling overhead Chilling winds remind us Winter draweth near, With its icy fetters, Binding on its bier. All that now looks lovely, In its chilly arms, Bobbing beauteous nature Of her summer charms. Thus each moving season Quickly hastes along. Spring will follow Winter, Bringing its sweet song POEMS ON THE SEASONS. 87 So, our lives are changing : Childhood first appears, Youth and manhood follow, Then declining years. Old age is the Winter, Wrinkling soon the brow Death doth quickly follow, Ending life below. But the resurrection Brings new life again, And in endless springtide Souls immortal reign. WINTER. WINTEK MUSINGS. WINTER again has come. The snow falls fast And spreads its mantle over all the earth ; The trees have shed their leaves and naked stand, Bereft of autumn's garb. The birds of song Are silent, not a note of music thrills Our ears, while death-like stillness reigns around. The sun has lost its bright and cheering rays, And for a time all nature, wrapped in calm Similitude of death, is held fast bound By winter's icy grasp, as with a chain ; Nor shall she wake again, or show a sign Of animating life, till Springtide comes And, with its resurrecting force, shall loose Or break the bonds which bind her fast. Then will The sun again shine forth o'er hill and dale, And pour its genial warmth on all around, While all creation shall with life renewed Unite in one accord, to greet and praise The Lord of earth and sky, Whose mighty hand MISCELLANEOUS SONGS. Controls, and keeps with unresisting power The wheels of nature moving on. Nor shall The seasons, as they roll, fail or stand still, But ceaseless move, until they each run out Their destined course, and God Himself declares That time on earth shall ever cease to be. MISCELLANEOUS SONGS 'TWAS IN THE MONTH OF MAY. OH ! 'twas in the month of May, And my heart was light and gay, As I took my sweetheart o'er the meadows green ; Oh ! the daisies looked so sweet As they bloomed beneath our feet, And I wove them into garlands for my queen. Oh ! the birds their songs were trilling ! And my heart, with love, was thrilling ! As we sat beneath the shady trysting tree Oh ! she promised: to be mine, And upon love's sacred shrine Both our hands and hearts were joined so tenderly. Oh ! 'twas in the month of June, And the bells with merry tune Filled the air with gladsome music, loud and clear Oh ! it was our wedding day, And our hearts were blythe and gay, As the village youths and maidens sang, good cheer. MISCELLANEOUS SONGS. 89 FAREWELL, SWEET JESSIE. FAKEWELL, sweet Jessie, I must bid you good-bye, Though sad is the parting to me I leave you in sorrow, my fortune to try In a land far over the sea. Oh ! Weep not, my darling, nor bid me to stay, Though my heart is breaking for thee ; But pray for me, dearest, when I'm far away, In a land far over the sea. And when I am toiling, my fortune to gain, Dear Jessie, my thoughts still shall be Of the darling I left behind me in pain, When I sailed far over the sea. But soon I'll return, love, with joy, and with pride, To share all my riches with thee ; Then you, dearest Jessie, I'll claim for my bride, And no more roam over the sea. ONCE UPON A TIME. Once upon a time, I knew a maiden fair, And she had golden hair. Her eyes were violet blue, Her teeth .were pearly white, Her heart was warm and true, Her steps were gay and light- That maid was my delight. And once upon a time, I woo'd that maiden fair With bright and golden hair. I knelt down at her feet 90 MISCELLANEOUS SONGS. And asked her to be mine ; She said in accents sweet, Her heart for me did pine Nor could she then decline. Then once upon a time, I wed that maiden fair, With soft and golden hair. 'Twas in the early spring, When all was bright and gay, The village bells did ring, The folks made holiday, As I took my bride away. But many years have pass'd, And she, who once was fair, With lovely golden hair, Is now both old and grey. For Winter's frost and snow Have changed all to decay, And silvered locks do now Bedeck her aged brow. And soon will come a time, When she with silvery hair, Who once was young and fair, Will bid a fond good-bye. And though we part in pain, Yet, far beyond the sky, We soon shall meet again In love's eternal reign. DO NOT SAY " GOOD-BYE." To say good-bye for aye, would give me pain, To thee, my love, I cannot say good-bye My heart would break, never to see again Thy lovely form. Then do not say, " Good-bye." MISCELLANEOUS SONGS. 91 To say " good-bye," and never hear thy voice In merry laughter, rippling through the air ; Nay, rather would I make " Grim Death " my choice Than never see again thy face so fair. Then do not say " Good-bye " to me, for aye, But bid me cherish still my heart's desire- That we may meet again. And drive away Dull care, and with new joy my life inspire. Yet once again, my love, I now appeal Yea, even on my bended knees, would try That sentence to revoke my joy to seal Then say, " We'll meet again," and not " Good-bye.' MY SWEETHEART, MARIE. I'LL sing of my sweetheart so joyous and gay, She's fair as the flowers which blossom in May Her hair is like gold, and her eyes, bright and blue, Her cheeks are as roses of delicate hue She's the queen of my heart, so happy and free, She's the joy of my life, My Sweetheart, Marie. Her steps like the fairy, are light as the air, She skips o'er the meadows, so sprightly and fair ; At the sound of her voice, all sorrow and pain Doth vanish, as sunshine disperseth the rain. She's the queen of my heart, so happy and free, She's the joy of my life, My Sweetheart, Marie. O soon may the time come, when her I can claim, To be my companion, for no higher aim Can I ever conceive, than to make her my bride, And no greater bliss, than with her by my side ; For she's queen of my heart, so happy and free, She's the joy of my life, My Sweetheart, Marie. 92 MISCELLANEOUS SONGS. MAGGIE. OFT do I think of the days When we were young Maggie When we joined in sweetest lays, That e'er were sung Maggie I fancy I see thee now On the rustic seat Maggie When first I pledged thee my vow, Mid our kisses sweet Maggie And soon came the happy day When you and I Maggie Were married and went away Why do you sigh, Maggie ? 'Tis true, it is long ago And now we are old Maggie Winter with its storms and snow Its tale has told Maggie But still we would not recall The days that are pass'd Maggie- Though night with its dark'ning pall Its shadows cast Maggie For beyond the present life, So full of care Maggie There is one, which, free from strife, We soon may share Maggie Then wipe away all your tears, Let sadness be gone Maggie Away with sorrow and fears The battle's nigh won Maggie. MISCELLANEOUS SONGS. 93 QUEEN OF MY HEAET. QUEEN of my heart, love, for thee I am pining, Oh, when shall I see thy sweet face again ? When shall my head on thy bosom reclining Find sweetest repose from sorrow and pain ? By day and by night, love, waking or sleeping, My thoughts are of thee And oft in my dreams I fancy I see thee I wake ! And with weeping My pillow is bathed by sad gushing streams. O could I but tell, love, where I might find thee, Then nothing on earth should keep me away My arms in loving embraces would bind thee, Nor should' st thou leave me in sorrow to stray. But now my heart cries Oh ! Why didst thou leave me, Alone in my sadness and anguish to pine ? Can it be true, did my soul so deceive me, And must I for ever life's pleasures resign ? Is there no answer, must I, love, forget thee, And blot from my heart thy memory so dear ? No more to think of the joy when I met thee, And kissed thee so fondly, when no one was near ? Nay, I cannot forget thee, my dearest, my darling, For my heart would nigh break, no more to behold The face of my love, whose voice like the starling So often hath cheered me in days of old. Then fly to me, dear one, on love's swift wings sweeping, come to me now whatever betide ; For my eyes are dim with sorrow and weeping 1 wait for thy coming to make thee my bride. Queen of my heart, love, for thee I am pining, O when shall I see thy sweet face again ? When shall my head on thy bosom reclining Find sweetest repose from sorrow and pain ? 94 MISCELLANEOUS SONGS. MY LOVE IS LIKE THE EED RED ROSE. MY love is like the red red rose, The rose of early spring ; Her face with health and beauty glows And I her praise will sing. Her steps are buoyant as the air Her laughter light and free ; No music is to me more rare No sweeter melody. Her bonny eyes are sparkling bright, Like gems of fairest hue She fills my soul with sweet delight, And thrills me through and through. Her ruby lips, with kisses sweet, I fain would press to mine Her lithesome form so trim and neat Fondly I would entwine. YEARS MAY COME AND YEARS MAY GO. YES, years may come and years may go, You may forget the past ; but, oh, I never can. Those days gone by Still linger in my memory. And though in pain we now must part, Yet still within my throbbing heart No other love shall ever reign, Though we may never meet again. Your kindness I shall ne'er forget, But often think when first we met Beneath the shades of eventide, And lovingly sat side by side. MISCELLANEOUS SONGS. 95 Yes, there beneath the trysting tree We sat, from care and sorrow free ; But now keen anguish tears my breast, And robs me of my peace and rest. O, could I hear thy voice again In words of loving sweet refrain : Eecalling now that stern decree And bid me welcome back to thee. Then would my heart, in sweet repose, Find peace and rest from all my woes ; And on thy bosom safe recline, Content to know that thou wert mine. OLD ENGLAND FOE ME. OLD England, the land of the brave and the free, Wherever I roam, or wherever I be, No spot in this wide world with thee can compare : Who dwells 'neath thy banner, its freedom may share. Old England for me, Old England for me, Is the song of my heart so happy and free. The sun never sets over thy wide domain, Thy sceptre is wielded o'er sea and o'er plain, Nor can there be slaves where thy standard is seen Then here's to the health of my country and Queen. Old England, &c. Then England for ever, the land of my birth I'll drink to thy bounty, mid pleasure and mirth ; And this is the song I will sing unto thee Old England for ever Old England for me. Old England, &c. 96 MISCELLANEOUS SONGS. FAEEWELL. Farewell, dear friend, we now must part- Yet, oh ! it wounds my aching heart, To think that I no more may see Your form divine so fair to me Or ever hear your voice again In loving songs of sweetest strain. I never, never shall forget The happy time when first we met How sweet the memory lingers still It often makes my bosom thrill With joy that I cannot control A joy which bound us soul to soul. But when I'm far away from thee, Say, will you ever think of me ? Or will you very soon forget That we together ever met ? And seek to crush beneath your feet The memories of the past, so sweet ? Nay ! Let us hope to meet again 'Twould ease me of the throbbing pain Which rends the vitals of my heart. But, oh ! to think that we may part For aye ! Alas ! that it should be ; It fills my soul with misery. THE OLD OAK TREE. I sit beneath the old oak tree, And fondly dream, my love, of thee Of happy days, when long ago, Under its shades, the solemn vow Was pledged, which nothing e'er can sever- That vow which bound us one, for ever. MISCELLANEOUS SONGS. 97 Near to this spot the silver stream Buns, sparkling with the sun's bright beam, And as it glides o'er pebbly bed Reflects the blue sky overhead, While visions sweet come gently stealing Over rny soul, love's bliss revealing. Oh, that thou now wert by my side, That I might claim thee for my bride. Then would I with my arms entwine In fond embrace thy form divine, And through the sunny hours of day Would pass the happy time away. SONG. SACEED. I stood by the sea at midnight, When the moon had risen high ; And its silvery light w r as streaming Over the star-lit sky. And I thought of the great Creator Whose wisdom and power controls The mighty expansive ocean Which ever unceasing rolls. And there, as I gazed with rapture On the scene my eyes beheld, My soul w r as o'erwhelmed with wonder, And with joy my bosom swelled. And this was the prayer I murmured : " O Lord of earth, sky and sea, " Be Thou my Guide and Defender, " My hope through eternity." 98 MISCELLANEOUS SONGS. UP IN THE MOKNING EARLY. Up in the morning early, my boys, Yes, up at the break of day " Tis the early bird that catches the worm " Then up at the break of day. " Early to bed, and early to rise " This advice I give to you " 'Twill make you both healthy, wealthy and wise, Is a saying old, yet true. " Go to the ant, thou sluggard " 'tis said " Consider her ways, and be wise " This is a lesson, quite easy to learn, A lesson you should not despise. Then, " Don't let the grass grow under your feet" But ever keep moving apace : No laggard can ever expect to succeed In winning the goal in life's race. The ladder of fame can only be climbed By those who are bold and true : And, if you would reach ambition's fair height You must rise with the morning dew. CHOKUS. Up in the morning early, my boys, Yes, up at the break of day " 'Tis the early bird that catches the worm " Then up at the break of day. MY LOVE AND I. My love and I sat side by side, Beneath the overhanging trees ; Fast fell the shades of eventide The leaves moved gently in the breeze. MISCELLANEOUS SONGS. 99 'Twas there we pledged our solemn vow, The vow that did our hearts unite ; I fancy I can see her now The darling of my fond delight. Her trembling hands were placed in mine, Her head fell gently on my breast : I gazed upon her face divine, And knew that I her love possess'd. Often since then my love and I Have sat beneath that shady bower, And, wrapt in true felicity, Spent many a sweet and tranquil hour. On the same seat, I once again Am sat in sadness, and alone My heart is full of grief and pain, For she, my love, is dead and gone. NEVEE MEET TEOUBLE HALF-WAY. To you who are harassed with sorrow These few words of advice, I pray You will take nor think of to-morrow And never meet trouble half-way. Our troubles are oft our own bringing, And sometimes engender despair ; But, if we croaked less, and tried singing, They'd vanish away in thin air. Now, what is the use of repining, And nursing the ills of our life ? Or what do we gain by our whining? Will it help us in sorrow and strife ? 100 MISCELLANEOUS SONGS. No, if we would banish our sadness And turn all our sorrow to joy, If our hearts we would fill with gladness, And the cares of our life destroy, We must always look out for the bright side ; For there's many a cloudy day That turns to sweet sunshine each noontide, And drives all the darkness away. MY GUIDING STAR. SACKED SONG. My heart is filled with joy again My drooping spirits lifted are Departed is my grief and pain, For I have found my Guiding Star. Ere Thee I found, dark was my mind, And chaos did my soul possess ; But now in Thee my Star I find, A light in this lone wilderness. Shine on Thou Star of purest light, Nor ever hide Thy face from me For without Thee the dreary night Would almost endless seem to be. Jesus, my Star, shine on, shine on Through all my path of life, and when My journey ends the eternal Sun Shall guide me to the heavenly plain. CH1USTMAS CAROLS, ETC. 101 CHRISTMAS CAROLS, etc CHRISTMAS CAROL. Shepherds o'er their flocks are keeping Midnight watch, while others sleeping Know not that the time is near, When the long foretold Redeemer Of mankind, the Lord and Saviour, Should in Bethlehem appear. Suddenly upon them falling Comes a blaze of light appalling Brighter than the noon-day sun ; Bending to the ground they tremble, Filled with fear they close assemble, As they gaze the light upon. Then with eager ears they listen, And with light their eyes do glisten, As they hear a voice divine Saying, " Fear not, for I greet you "With glad tidings now I meet you, "And I give you for a sign : "You shall find in Bethlehem's manger, "Wrapped in swaddling clothes, a Stranger, " Who is Jesus Christ the Lord." Then a heavenly host appearing Joined the chorus loud and cheering, Praising Him, with sweet accord. 102 CHEISTMAS CAROLS, ETC. CHEISTMAS BELLS. Christmas bells again are ringing, Waits their, carols sweetly singing Join to greet the happy morn Wake ye people, from your slumbers Wake ! and sing in tuneful numbers Christ in Bethlehem is born. Angel voices tell the story Christ is born, the Lord of glory- Shepherds listen to the strain While they chant with holy pleasure Joyful news, in happy measure- News that echoes o'er the plain. See, the hosts of heaven appearing Hark ! their voices sweet and cheering Swell the chorus loud and clear " Glory to the God of Heaven, " Peace on earth to-day is given ; "Spread the tidings, far and near." While the rapturous song is pealing Wise men from the East are kneeling Bound the Babe in Bethlehem. Earth and heaven combined rejoice, Praising him with heart and voice Crown Him with bright diadem. CHRISTMAS CAEOL. ALL hail ! Redeemer, hail ! Saviour of all mankind, Goodwill and peace on earth In Him we all may find. CHRISTMAS CAROLS, ETC. 103 Join all the hosts above In songs of joy and praise, While we in anthems sweet Our hearts and voices raise. To shepherds it was told " Behold to you I bring " Glad tidings of great joy ; " A Saviour and a King " Is born to you this day, " And this shall be your sign : " In Bethlehem's manger you " Shall find the Babe Divine." And then th' angelic choir Took up the sweet refrain, While earth re-echoed back The wondrous joyful strain. " Glory to God on high, " Goodwill to all descend, "And peace on earth be given," Saviour, Eedeemer, Friend. CHRISTMAS HYMN. WAKE, ye Christians, from your slumbers Eise to greet this happy morn, Join to sing in tuneful numbers Unto Him, Who once was born In a manger poor and lowly Born a ruined world to save, Born to make us pure and holy, And redeem us from the grave. 104 CHEISTMAS CAEOLS, ETC. Heavenly hosts on swift wings fleeting Waft the tidings from above ; Mortal tongues re-echo greeting Joyful songs of peace and love ; Let us chant the wondrous story And with angels swell the strain, " Christ the Saviour, Lord of Glory, World's Redeemer born to reign." CHRISTMAS BELLS ARE RINGING. Christmas bells are ringing, Joyful tidings bringing, Listen to the sound ; Youth and age rejoice, And, with heart and voice, Make the hills resound. Angels' voices blending, Heavenly hosts attending, Swell the chorus high ; Peace on earth assuring, Good-will e'er enduring, Echoes through the sky. Shepherds tell the story, Christ the Lord of Glory Comes to save mankind ; Welcome, heavenly stranger, Born in Bethlehem's manger, As a babe they find. Christmas bells are ringing ; We, our Carols singing, Hail the festive day ; Saviour, we adore Thee, Falling down before Thee, Chant our joyful lay. 105 CHRISTMAS CAROLS, ETC. NEW YEAE BELLS. EING in, ye bells, the glad New Year Ding dong, ding dong With merry peals both loud and clear The strains prolong. We hail with joy, with songs we greet This welcome day : We worship at the Saviour's feet And fervent pray That every day, and every hour, Our lives may be Guided by His Almighty power From error free. Oh, may His hand our footsteps guide In paths secure, And may we never turn aside But firm endure. That when on earth our lives shall cease We may be found Where all is love and joy and peace, On heavenly ground. OUE LIVES AEE WANING. Our lives are swiftly waning And soon will pass away, While all things now remaining Will perish and decay. 0, whither are we tending? What is our destiny ? Shall we, in bliss unending, Dwell in Eternity ? CHEISTMAS CAROLS, ETC. Or shall we live for ever In misery and woe ? Lord, grant that we may never Into that darkness go. May we at last inherit In heaven's bright land above, Through Christ our Saviour's merit, Eternal peace and love. 106 ffinis. PBINTED BY S. COCKBUBN AND SON, THE BOBOUGH WOBKS AND "OBSEBVEB" OFFICE, OSSETT. YC156441