Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub

And the best that can be said,
When they ask why thou art fled,
Is, that thou art gone to share
With him the empire of the air.

(By permission of the Author.)

MR. SIMPKINSON'S MISADVENTURES AT

MARGATE.

THE Rev. RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM.

'Twas in Margate last July, I walk'd upon the pier, I saw a little vulgar boy-I said, “What make you

here? The gloom upon your youthful cheek speaks any

thing but joy; Again I said, “What make you here, you little vulgar

boy ? "

[ocr errors]

He frowned, that little vulgar boy,-he deemed I meant

to scoffAnd when the little heart is big, a little "sets it off ; He put his finger in his mouth, his little bosom rose He had no little handkerchief to wipe his little nose ! “ Hark! don't you hear, my little man ?-it's striking

nine," I said, An hour when all good little boys and girls should be

in bed. Run home and get your supper, else your ma' will

scold- oh! fie! It's very wrong indeed for little boys to stand and

cry!"

The tear-drop in his little eye again began to spring, His bosom throbb’d with agony,-he cried like

anything!

I stoop'd, and thus amidst his sobs I heard him

murmur-" Ah! I haven't got no supper, and I haven't got no ma'!

“My father, he is on the seas—my mother's dead and

gone

e ! And I am here, on this here pier, to roam the world

alone; I have not had, this live-long day, one drop to cheer my

heart, Nor "brown' to buy a bit of bread with--let alone a

tart.

"If there's a soul will give me food, or find me in

employ, By day or night, then blow me tight!” (he was a vulgar

boy ;) “And now I'm here, from this here pier it is my

fixed intent To jump, as Mister Levi did from off the Monu-ment!" “ Cheer up! cheer up! my little man-cheer up!"I

kindly said, “You are a naughty boy to take such things into your

head: If you should jump from off the pier, you'd surely

break your legs, Perhaps your neck—then Bogey'd have you, sure as

eggs are eggs! Come home with me, my little man, come home with

me and sup; My landlady is Mrs. Jones—we must not keep her upThere's roast potatoes at the fire,-enough for me and

youCome home you little vulgar boy-I lodge at Number 2.” I took him home to Number 2, the house beside “The

Foy," I bade him wipe his dirty shoes,--that little vulgar boy,

And then I said to Mistress Jones, the kindest of her

sex, 'Pray be so good as go and fetch a pint of double X!”

But Mrs. Jones was rather cross, she made a little

noise, She said she “ did not like to wait on little vulgar

boys," She with her apron wiped the plates, and, as she rubb’d

the delf, Said I might" go to Jericho, and fetch my beer myself!" I did not go to Jericho—I went to Mr. CobbI changed a shilling-(which in town the people call “ a

bob”)— It was not so much for myself as for that vulgar

childAnd I said, " A pint of double X, and please to draw it

mild !"

When I came back I gazed about-I gazed on stool and

chairI could not see my little friend--because he was not

there! I peep'd beneath the table-cloth-beneath the sofa

too I said, “You little vulgar boy! why what's become of

you?" I could not see my table-spoons I look'd, but could

not see The little fiddle-pattern’d ones I use when I'm at tea; I could not see my sugar-tongs-my silver watch-oh,

dear! I know 'twas on the mantel-piece when I went out for

beer.

I could not see my Macintosh-it was not to be seen ! Nor yet my best white beaver hat, broad-brimm'd and

lined with green

My carpet-bag-my cruet-stand, that holds my sauce

and soy,

My roast potatoes !mall are gone l-and so's that vulgar

boy!

I rang the bell for Mrs. Jones, for she was down below, “Oh, Mrs. Jones! what do you think ?-ain't this a

pretty go?That horrid little vulgar boy whom I brought here

to-night, He's stolen my things and run away!!"-Says she,

“And sarve you right!!”

Next morning I was up betimes—I sent the Crier round, All with his bell and gold-laced hat, to say I'd give a

pound To find that little vulgar boy who'd gone and used me

SO; But when the Crier cried, "O Yes!" the people cried,

“O No!”

I went to “ Jarvis' Landing-place," the glory of the

town, There was a common sailor-man a-walking up and

down, I told my tale-he seem'd to think I'd not been treated

well, And call'd me " Poor old Buffer !"-what that means I

cannot tell.

That sailor-man, he said he'd seen that morning on the

shore, A son of—something—'twas a name I'd never heard

before, A little “ gallows-looking chap "--dear me, what could

he mean? With a “carpet-swab” and “muckintogs," and a hat He spoke about his “precious eyes," and said he'd seen

turned up with green,

him “sheer”— It's very odd that sailor-men should talk so very queerAnd then he hitch'd his trousers up, as is, I'm told,

their use It's very odd that sailor-men should wear those things

so loose.

I did not understand him well, but think he meant to

say He'd seen that little vulgar boy, that morning, swim

away In Captain Large's Royal George about an hour before, And they were now, as he supposed, “somewheres'

about the Nore.

A landsman said, "I twig the chap-he's been upon the

millAnd 'cause he gammons so the flats, ve calls him

Veeping Bill!" He said, "he'd done me very brown,” and nicely

« stow'd the swag,That's French, I fancy, for a hat-or else a carpet-bag. I went and told the constable my property to track ; He asked me if “I did not wish that I might get it

back?” I answered, “ To be sure I do!-it's what I'm come

about,” He smiled and said, “Sir, does

your

mother know that

you are out ?"

Not knowing what to do, I thought I'd hasten back to

town, And beg our own Lord Mayor to catch the boy who'd

“ done me brown," His lordship very kindly said he'd try and find him out, But he “rather thought that there were several vulgar

boys about.”

« ForrigeFortsæt »