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I still hear her cry,

The gloom upon your youthful cheek speaks “I wish I may die

anything but joy”; If here is n't Tom's Shirt, that 's been so long Again I said, “What make you here, you little amaking !

vulgar Boy ?" sy gracious me!

He frowned, that little vulgar Boy, — he deemed Well, — only to see !

I meant to scoff, I declare it's as yellow as yellow can be ! And when the little heart is big, a little “sets Why, it looks just as though 't had been soaked it off.” in green tea !

He put his finger in his mouth, his little bosom Dear me, did you ever I

rose, But come, 't will be clever

He had no little handkerchief to wipe his little nose ! To bring matters round ; so I'll do my endeavor.

“Hark! don't you hear, my little man ?- it's * Better Late,' says an excellent proverb, than

striking Nine," I said, Never !' It is stained, to be sure, but 'grass-bleaching

“An hour when all good little boys and girls

should be in bed. will bring it

Run home and get your supper, else your Ma To rights 'in a jiffy.' We'll wash it, and wring it; Or, stay, - Hudson's Liquor'

will scold, - O tie ! Will do it still quicker,

It's very wrong indeed for little boys to stand

and cry!” And – ” Here the new maid chimed in, “Ma'am, Salt of Lemon

The tear-dropin his little eye again began to spring, Will makeit, in no time,quite fit for the Gemman!” His bosom throbbed with agony, — he cried like So they " set in the gathers,”- the large round anything! the collar,

I stooped, and thus amidst his sobs I heard him While those at the wristbands of course were

murmur,

“Ah! much smaller,

I have n't got no supper ! and I have n't got The button-holes now were at length "overcast.”

no Ma !" Then a button itself was sewn on,-'t was the last !

“My father, he is on the seas,

dead and gone ! All's done!

And I am here, on this here pier, to roam the All's won !

world alone ; Never under the sun

I have not had, this livelong day, one drop to Was Shirt so late finished, so early begun !

cheer my heart, The work would defy

Nor brown' to buy a bit of bread with, -- let The most critical eye.

alone a tart. It was “bleached,” – it was washed, - it was hung out to dry,

“If there's a soul will give me food, or find me It was marked on the tail with a T, and an I !

in employ, On the back of a chair it

By day or night, then blow me tight !” (he was Was placed, -- just to air it,

a vulgar Boy ;) In front of the fire. Tom to-morrow shall “And now I'm here, from this here pier it is wear it !"

fixed intent O coeca mens hominum ! - Fanny, good soul, To jump as Mister Levi did from off the MonuLeft her charge for one moment,

ment!” vile coal

*Cheer up! cheer up! my little man, cheer Bounced out from the grate, and set fire to the

up!" I kindly said, whole !

You are a naughty boy to take such things into (THOMAS INGOLDSBY, ESQ.)

your head; If you should jump from off the pier, you'd

surely break your legs, MISDAVENTURES AT MARGATE. Perhaps your neck, — then Bogey'd have you, A LEGEND OF JARVIS's JETTY.

sure as eggs are eggs ! MR. SIMPKINSON (loquitur).

“Come home with me, my little man, come I wasin Margate last July, I walked upon the pier, home with me and sup; I saw a little vulgar Boy, - I said, “What make My landlady is Mrs. Jones, we must not keep

my mother's

my

but one,

- a

RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM.

you here?

her up,

her sex,

There's roast potatoes at the fire, — enough for I rang the bell for Mrs. Jones, for she was down me and you,

below, Come home, you little vulgar Boy, -- I lodge at "O Mrs. Jones, what do you think? - ain't this Number 2."

a pretty go?

That horrid little vulgar Boy whom I brought I took him home to Number 2, the house beside here to-night “ The Foy,"

He's stolen my things and run away !” Says I bade him wipe his dirty shoes, that little she, “And sarve you right!"

vulgar Boy, And then I said to Mistress Jones, the kindest of Next morning I was up betimes, I sent the

Crier round, “Pray be so good as go and fetch a pint of | All with his bell and gold-laced hat, to say, I'd double X!"

give a pound

To find that little vulgar Boy, who'd gone and But Mrs. Jones was rather cross, she made a little

used me so ; noise,

But when the Crier cried, “O Yes !" the people She said she “did not like to wait on little vul. cried, “O No!”

gar Boys." She with her apron wiped the plates, and, as she I went to “ Jarvis' Landing-place," the glory of

the town, rubbed the delf, Said I might “go to Jericho, and fetch my beer There was a common sailor-man a walking up and

down, myself !”

I told my tale, — he seemed to think I'd not

been treated well, I did not go to Jericho, - I went to Mr. Cobb,

And called me “ Poor old Buffer!" - what that I changed a shilling (which in town the people

means I cannot tell. call a Bob,) It was not so much for myself as for that vulgar That Sailor-man, he said he 'd seen that morning

child, And I said, “ A pint of double X, and please to A son of — something — 't was a name I'd never

on the shore, draw it mild !"

heard before,

A little "gallows-looking chap" – dear me, When I came back I gazed about, – I gazed on what could he mean?. stool and chair,

With a

“carpet-swah” and mucking-togs," I could not see my little friend, because he

and a hat turned up with green. was not there! I peeped beneath the table-cloth, beneath the He spoke about his “precious eyes," and said

he'd seen him “sheer,". I said, “You'ittle vulgar Boy ! why, what's be- It's very odd that Sailor-men should talk so come of you ?

very queer ;

And then he hitched his trousers up, as is, I'm I could not see my table-spoons, – I looked, but told, their use, could not see

It's very odd that Sailor-men should wear those The little fiddle-patterned ones I use when I'm

things so loose. at tea; I could not see my sugar-tongs, my silver I did not understand him well, but think he meant

watch, – 0, dear ! I know 't was on the mantel-piece when I went He'd seen that little vulgar Boy, that morning, out for beer.

In Captain Large's Royal George, about an hour I could not see my Macintosh, — it was not to be before, seen !

And they were now, as he supposed, "somewheres." Nor yet my best white beaver hat, broad-brimmed about the Nore.

and lined with green ; My carpet-bag, - my cruet-stand, that holds my A landsman said, “I twig the chap, – he's been sauce and soy,

upon the Mill, My roast potatoes ! all are gone! -- and so 's And 'cause he gammons so the flats, ve calls him that vulgar Boy!

Veeping Bill !"

sofa too,

to say

swim away

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him out,

He said “he'd done me werry brown," and nicely

Is this the way, you “ stowed the swag,

Wretch, every day you That's French, I fancy, for a hat, or else a carpet- Treat her who vowed to love and obey you ? bag.

Out all night!

Me in a fright; I went and told the constable my property to track; Staggering home as it's just getting light ! He asked me if “ I did not wish that I might get you intoxified brute !

-you insensible block! it back." I answered, “To be sure I do ! — it's what I'm Look at the Clock ! – Do! — Look at the Clock !" come about.”

Winifred Pryce was tidy and clean, He smiled and said, “Sir, does your mother Hergown was a flowered one, her petticoat green, know that you are out ?”

Her buckles were bright as her milking-cans, Not knowing what to do, I thought I'd hasten And her hat was a beaver, and made like a man's ; back to town,

Her little red eyes were deep set in their socketAnd beg our own Lord Mayor to catch the boy

holes, who'd “done me brown."

Her gown-tail was turned up, and tucked through His Lordship very kindly said he'd try and find

the pocket-holes;

A face like a ferret But he “rather thought that there were several

Betokened her spirit : vulgar boys about."

To conclude, Mrs. Pryce was not over young,

Had very short legs, and a very long tongue. He sent for Mr. Whithair then, and I described “the swag,”

Now David Pryce My Macintosh, my sugar-tongs, my spoons, and

Had one darling vice ; carpet-bag ;

Remarkably partial to anything nice, He promised that the New Police should all their Naught that was good to him came amiss, powers employ,

Whether to eat, or to drink, or to kiss !
But never to this hour have I beheld that vulgar

Especially ale,
Boy!

If it was not too stale
I really believe he'd have emptied a pail ;

Not that in Wales
Remember, then, what when a boy I've heard

They talk of their Ales; my Grandma tell,

To pronounce the word they make use of might "BE WARNED IN TIME BY OTHERS' HARM, AND YOU SHALL DO FULL WELL!"

Being spelt with a C, two Rs, and a W. Don't link yourself with vulgar folks, who've got no fixed abode,

That particular day, Tell lies, use naughty words, and say they “wish

As I've heard people say, they may be blowed !”

Mr. David Pryce had been soaking his clay, Don't take too much of double X !- and don't And amusing himself with his pipe and cheroots,

The whole afternoon at the Goat-in-Boots, at night go out

With a couple more soakers, To fetch your beer yourself, but make the pot

Thoroughbred smokers, boy bring your stout !

Both, like himself, prime singers and jokers; And when you go to Margate next, just stop, and And, long after day had drawn to a close, ring the bell,

And the rest of the world was wrapped in repose, Give my respects to Mrs. Jones, and say I'm They were roaring out “Shenkin!” and “ Ar pretty well !

hydd y nos”; (THOMAS INGOLDSBY, ESQ.) While David himself, to a Sassenach tune,

Sang, “We've drunk down the Sun, boys !

let's drink down the Moon !

What have we with day to do? “LOOK AT THE CLOCK !"

Mrs. Winifred Pryce, 't was made

for you !” “Look at the Clock !” quoth Winifred Pryce,

At length, when they could n't well drink any more, As she opened the door to her husband's knock, Old “Goat-in-Boots” showed them the door ; Then paused to give him a piece of advice,

And then came that knock, You nasty Warmint, look at the Clock !

And the sensible shock

MORAL.

trouble you,

RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM.

FYTTE I.

David felt when his wife cried, “ Look at the Sometrisling correction was just what he meant;Clock !"

all Forthe hands stood as crooked as crooked might be, The rest, he assured them, was“quite accidental !" The long at the Twelve, and the short at the Three !

The jury, in fine, having sat on the body
That self-same clock had long been a bone The whole day, discussing the case and gin toddy,
Of contention between this Darby and Joan ; Returned about half past eleven at night
And often, among their pother and rout, The following verdict, “Wefind, Sarve her right!"
When this otherwise amiable couple fell out,
Pryce would drop a cool hint

Mr. David has since had a " serious call,"
With an ominous squint

He never drinks ale, wine, or spirits, at all, At its case, of an “Uncle” of his, who'd a

And they say he is going to Exeter Hall
“Spout."

To make a grand speech,
That horrid word “Spout”.

And to preach and to teach
No sooner came out,

People that “they can't brew their malt liquor Than Winifred Pryce would turn her about

too small !" And with scorn on her lip,

That an ancient Welsh Poet, one PYNDAR AP And a hand on each hip,

Tudor, "Spout” herself till her nose grew red at the tip, Was right in proclaiming “ ARISTON MEN U DOR!"

Which means “You thundering Willin,

The pure Element I know you 'd be killing

Is for Man's belly meant !"
Your wife —ay, a dozen of wives — fora shilling! And that Gin's but a Snare of Old Nick the de-

luder!
You may do what you please,
You may sell my chemise,

And “still on each evening when pleasure fills (Mrs. P. was too well bred to mention her stock,) But I never will part with my Grandmother's

At the old Goat-in-Boots, with Metheglin, each Clock !"

сир, Mrs. Pryce's tongue ran long and ran fast ;

Mr. Pryce, if he's there, But patience is apt to wear out at last,

Will get into “The Chair," And David Pryce in temper was quick,

And make all his quondam associates stare So he stretched out his hand, and caught hold By calling aloud to the Landlauy's daughter, of a stick.

* Patty, bring a cigar, and a glass of Spring Perhaps in its use he might mean to be lenient,

up,”

66

Water!” But walking just then was n't very convenient, The dial he constantly watches ; and when So he threw it, instead,

The long hand 's at the “XII," and the short at Direct at her head ;

the “X,”
It knocked off her hat;

He gets on his legs,
Down she fell flat ;

Drains his glass to the dregs,
Her case, perhaps, was not much mended by that; Takes his hat and great coat off their several pegs,
But whatever it was, whether rage and pain With his President's hammer bestows his last
Produced apoplexy, or burst a vein,

knock, Or her tumble induced a concussion of brain, And says solemnly, — “Gentlemen! LOOK AT I can't say for certain, but this I can,

THE CLOCK !!!"
When, sobered by fright, to assist her he ran,
Mrs. Winifred Pryce was as dead as Queen Anne.

RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM.
(THOMAS INGOLDSBY, ESO)

99

And then came Mr. Ap Thomas, the Coroner,
With his jury to sit, some dozen or more, on her.

THE JACKDAW OF RHEIMS.
Mr. Pryce, to commence
His “ingenious defence,"

THE Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's chair!
Made a

powerful appeal” to the jury's “good Bishop and abbot and prior were there ;
sense,

Many a monk, and many a friar,
The unlucky lick

Many a knight, and many a squire,
From the end of his stick

With a great many more of lesser degree, He “deplored,” — he was “apt to be rather too In sooth, a goodly company ; quick”;

And they served the Lord Primateon bended knee.
But, really, her prating

Vever, I ween,
Was so aggravatig:

Was a prouder seen,

Read of in books, or dreamt of in dreams, And nobody seems to know what they 're about, Than the Cardinal Lord Archbishop of Rheims ! But the monks have their pockets all turned inIn and out

side out; Through the motley rout,

The friars are kneeling,
That little Jackdaw kept hopping about :

And hunting and feeling
Here and there,

The carpet, the floor, and the walls, and the ceiling.
Like a dog in a fair,

The Cardinal drew
Over comfits and cates,

Off each plum-colored shoe,
And dishes and plates,

And left his red stockings exposed to the view; Cowl and cope, and rochet and pall !

He peeps, and he feels
Mitre and crosier ! he hopped upon all.

In the toes and the heels.
With a saucy air,

They turn up the dishes, — they turn up the
He perched on the chair

plates, – Where, in state, the great Lord Cardinal sat, They take up the poker and poke out the grates, In the great Lord Cardinal's great red hat;

- They turn up the rugs,
And he peered in the face

They examine the mugs ;
Of his Lordship’s Grace,

But, no !- no such thing,
With a satisfied look, as if he would say,

They can't find THE RING ! “We Two are the greatest folks here to-day!” And the Abbot declared that “when nobody And the priests, with awe,

twigged it, As such freaks they saw,

Some rascalor other had popped in and prigged it!" Said, “The Devil must be in that little Jackdaw!"

The Cardinal rose with a dignified look, The feast was over, the board was cleared,

He called for his candle, his bell, and his book ! The flawns and the custards had all disappeared,

In holy anger and pious grief And six little Singing-boys dear little souls

He solemnly cursed that rascally thief ! In nice clean faces, and nice white stoles —

He cursed him at board, he cursed him in bed ; Came, in order due,

From the sole of his foot to the crown of his head;

He cursed him in sleeping, that every night Two by two,

Heshould dream of the devil, and wake in a fright. Marching that grand refectory through ! A nice little boy held a golden ewer,

He cursed him in eating, he cursed him in Embossed and filled with water, as pure

drinking,

He cursed him in coughing, in sneezing, in As any that flows between Rheims and Namur,

winking; Which a nice little boy stood ready to catch

He cursed him in sitting, in standing, in lying ; In a fine golden hand-basin made to match.

He cursed him in walking, in riding, in flying ; Two nice little boys, rather more grown,

He cursed him living, he cursed him dying ! Carried lavender-water and eau de Cologne ;

Never was heard such a terrible curse !
And a nice little boy had a nice cake of soap,

But what gave rise
Worthy of washing the hands of the Pope.
One little boy more

To no little surprise,

Nobody seemed one penny the worse !
A napkin bore,
Of the best white diaper, fringed with pink,

The day was gone,
Anda Cardinal's Hat marked in "permanentink.”

The night came on,

The Monks and the Friars they searched till dawn; The great Lord Cardinal turns at the sight

When the Sacristan saw,
Of these nice little boys dressed all in white;

On crumpled claw,
From his finger he draws

Come limping a poor little lame Jackdaw !
His costly turquoise :

No longer gay,
And, not thinking at all about little Jackdaws,

As on yesterday ;
Deposits it straight

His feathers all seemed to be turned the wrong
By the side of his plate,

way ; While the nice little boys on his Eminence wait; His pinions drooped, — he could hardly stand, Till, when nobody's dreaming of any such thing, His head was as bald as the palm of your hand ; That little Jackdaw hops off with the ring !

His eye so dim,

So wasted each limb,
There's a cry and a shout,

That, heedless of grammar, they all cried, “THAT
And a deuce of a rout,

's HIM!

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