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We've learned what comfort is, I tell you !
A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin,
he holds up there's been frozen); Plenty of catgut for my fiddle,
( This out-door business is bad for strings) ; Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle,
And Roger and I set up for kings ! No, thank ye, sir-I never drink;
Roger and I are exceedingly moral— Aren't we, Roger ? See him wink !
Well, something hot, then-we won't quarrel. He's thirsty, too : see him nod his head !
What a pity, sir, that dogs can't talk ; He understand's every word that's said ;
And he knows good milk from water-and-chalk. The truth is, sir, now I reflect,
I've been so sadly given to grog, I wonder I've not lost the respect
(Here's to you, sir !) even of my dog. But he sticks by, through thick and thin ;
And this old coat, with its empty pockets, And rags that smell of tobacco and gin,
He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets. There isn't another creature living
Would do it, and prove, through every disaster, So fond, so faithful, and so forgiving,
To such a miserable, thankless master ! No, sir ! see him wag his tail and grin!
By George ! it makes my old eyes water ! That is, there's something in this gin
That chokes a fellow. But no matter ! We'll have some music if you're willing,
And Roger (hem ! what a plague a cough is, sir !) Shall march a little. Start, you villain !
Stand straight! 'Bout face ! Salute your officer ! Put up that paw! Dress ! Take your rifle !
( Some dogs have arms, you see !) Now hold your Cap while the gentlemen give a trifle
To aid a poor old patriot soldier ?
When he stands up to hear his sentence.
To honour a jolly new acquaintance.
Five yelps—that's five; he's mighty knowing !
The night's before us, fill the glasses ! Quick, sir ! I'm ill-my brain is going !
Some brandy—thank you—there—it passes ! Why not reform ? That's easily said ;
But I've gone through such wretched treatment, Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread,
And scarce remembering what meat meant, That my poor stomach's past reform ;
And there are times when, mad with thinking, I'd sell out heaven for something warm
To prop a horrible inward sinking. Is there a way to forget to think?
At your age, sir, home, fortune, friends, A dear girl's love—but I took to drink ;-
The same old story! you know how it ends. If you could have seen these classic features
You needn't laugh, sir; they were not then
I was one of your handsome men !
Whose head was happy on this breast !
guessed That ever I, sir, should be straying
From door to door, with a fiddle and dog, Ragged and penniless, and playing
To you to-night for a glass of grog ! She's married since—a parson's wife :
'Twas better for her that we should partBetter the soberest, prosiest life
Than a blasted home and a broken heart.
On a dusty road : a carriage stopped :
Who kissed the coin' that her fingers dropped ! You've set me talking, sir ; I'm sorry ;
It makes me wild to think of the change ! What do you care for a beggar's story?
Is it amusing ? you find it strange ? I had a mother so proud of me!
'Twas well she died before-do you know If the happy spirits in heaven can see
The ruin and wretchedness here below ?
Another glass, and strong, to deaden
This pain ; then Roger and I will start. I wonder, has he such a lumpish, leaden,
Aching thing, in place of a heart ? He is sad sometimes, and would weep, if he could,
No doubt, remembering things that were-
And himself a sober, respectable cur.
You rascal ! limber your lazy feet !
For supper and bed, or starve in the streetNot a very gay life to lead, you think?
But soon we shall go where lodgings are free, And the sleepers need neither victuals nor drink
The sooner the better for Roger and me!
LEAP FOR LIFE.
By Geo. P. MORRIS.
In the harbour of Mahon;
And the winds to sleep had gone ;
With gallant hardihood,
The main truck rose and stood.
A shudder ran through every vein,
All eyes were turned on high ;
Between the sea and sky.
Alone he stood in air ;
No aid could reach him there.
With horror all aghast ;
We watched the quivering mast.
And of a lurid hue,
Stood officers and crew.
The father came on deck-he gasped,
“O God! Thy will be done! Then suddenly a rifle grasped,
And aimed it at his son. “Jump ! far out, boy, into the wave,
Jump, or I fire !” he said ; “This chance alone your life can save,
Jump! jump!” The boy obeyed.
He for the ship struck out;
With many a manly shout,
These wet arms round his neck, And foided to his heart the boy,
Then fainted on the deck.
'Twas on Lake Erie's broad expanse,
One bright midsummer day, The gallant steamer Ocean Qucen
Swept proudly on her way.
Or, leaning o'er the side,
That flecked the rippling tide.
That smiling bends serene,
Impended o'er the scene,
That frame of sturdy oak
Blackened with fire and smoke.
A moment whispered low;
He hurried down below.
And clear his orders came, No human effort could avail
To quench the insidious flame.
The bad news quickly reached the deck,
It sped from lip to lip,
Looked from the doomed ship.
A hundred lips implore ; “But one,” the captain made reply,
“To run the ship on shore." A sailor whose heroic soul
That hour should yet reveal,
Stood calmly at the wheel. “Head her south-east !” the captain shouts,
Above the smothered roar,
Make for the nearest shore !”
Or clouds his dauntless eye,
His voice responds, “Ay, ay !” Three hundred souls, the steamer's freight,
Crowd forward wild with fear; While at the stern the dreadful flames
Above the deck appear.
But still, with steady hand,
He steered the ship to land.
He heard the captain cry ;
Faintly responds, “ Ay, ay !”
Stretch eagerly to shore.
Peril shall all be o'er.
No longer slowly creep.
With fierce, impetuous sweep.
The captain cries once more,