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BALLADS BY BEN GAUI
it rather an enviable and saintly sort of thing to / wanderer ; few are the ties that bind me to earth die of consumption at twenty-five. Let parents -many are the reasons why I might desire to and friends look to it! God does not give lives quit it. All my work is the gospel, so that I may for fathers and mothers, and “ dear pastors,” to truly say that for me to live is only Christ; while help to snuff out, saying, “ His will be done!" | I endure so much in perils and persecutions, with God's will must indeed be done, but it is God's so little of earthly enjoyment to set off against my intention* that the most pious heart should keep on sufferings, that, if it were a question of balancivg beating till natural decay stops it; that the ten- pain and pleasure, for me to die would be gain." derest bosom should heave with vigorous life, and How many persous can honestly say all that ? not flutter with false sentiment. If there is Can a young mother with husband and children disease, it is to be considered as an abnormal about her? Or a useful man at the head of a thing, as much to be resisted with every energy family and a manufactory? Or a girl who has as a wild beast, and not coquetted with for the just tasted existence, fading of a painless disease ? sake of “a lovely end.” When every nerve bas Yet by thousands such as these the words of Paul been strained to beat back the destroyer, then, -appropriate to him, and, perhaps, to one in a and not till then is, “Thy will be done!" ang. million of any given generation-are used to thing better than caut and an insult.
justify a morbid habit of dealing with life as There is an often-quoted passage in the New rather undesirable thing than otherwise, or, at Testament, the ignorant misapplication of which least, as a thing indifferent. How popular the does incalculable mischief—“For me to live is sentiment is in serious-consumptive literature I Christ, and to die is gain." Paul, and Paul only, need not say. Nor how popular on gravestones, or some one in a parallel position, could reasonably though, if what I have said of its meaning be say that. The meaning is this: "I live for duty correct, its quotation is almost always a blunder, and not for affection; I am a missionary and a and sometimes a cant.*
Ballads bu Bon Gaultier's Grandsons.
If thou for place would’st never sell A PLEA FOR RICHARD COBDEN.
Thy vote as others do, man,
Fear not poor Cobden's praise to tell, 1 Genlleman who lost by Faction what he had gained by
For Richard was a true man.
In his hot youth the people's fight
He's fought before to-day, man;
A little kindness is his right,
Now Richard's hair is gray, man.
If for he joined the factious crew,
With Yorkshire he maun twine, man ;
Still here's his health, the old heart true,
And the days of its " lang syne," man.
If thou sometimes dost gang astray,
And still in heart a true man,
Be not too hard on him to-day,
For Cobden is but human.
He had his faults-they're not concealed,
Not faults of heart, but brain, man;
So, though he's out for Huddersfield,
Let's hope he'll sit again, man.
W. B, B. S.
* Often a blunder, we fear, and often cant; yet it is an
attaivable position, and in a sense applicable to all people ; * That is to say, if the laws formed by Him were obeyed. but it should lead them to desire life.
And the Greenwich Fair resorters boasted o'er their bitter
beer, TOBACCO'S PÆAN.
Greenwich Park surpassed Elysium, Greenwich donkeys Dedicated to Professor Solly, of controversial notoriety, Windsor deer. BY JOSEPH FUNE.
In the Lane y’clept " the Teapot" stood then many damsels
fair, Io Bacche.-Hor.
Asking you to come and taste their shrimps, and bread and Oh! doctors may lecture, and sages may sneer,
butter rare. Saying death doth lie hid in a pipe, Yet I'll chant ye a pæan for that I hold dear,
Here, when shows were still permitted, Panch, of the proRaleigh's weed, the fall-flavoured and ripe.
Flogged his wife in mimic anger, and his declamations Oh! thou, soothing weed, art a cheap Paraclete,
squeaked ; Thou art mine as I smoke bere alone,
Hence in silence and in sorrow, with his show-box in his I can see through thy smoke Fancy's phantoms so sweet,
hand, The dear ghosts of the joys that are gone.
Like an emigrant he wandered to a better-paying land. Like thee earthly joys, saith a sage, end in smoke,
“Gone away, and no address left," on his letters they inLike thee we must all end in-clay ;
scribe ; Here's a moral at once like“ a pig in a poke,"
“ Hooked it off” he has, and taken with him all the puppet Io Bacche !~come, chorus my lay!
tribe. But saith Solly (who sinokes not, for smoke makes him sick), Fairer seems this antique Greenwich, its folks seem inSmoke the mind doth with laziness thrall;
proved in sense, Johnson smoked-Paley smoked-veiled in smoke-volumes That he once has trod its pavement, that he once has ta'en thick,
their pence! Laboured Newton, the pride of us all!
Where yon tall Observatory crowns the rerdant-polished
slope, Oh! then sing, Io Bacche ! thou ne'er canst deceive,
Might ye see thick knots of lovers not much patronising In thy smoke not a heart-ache is hid ;"
soap; For the box of Pandora I never can grieve, While I tap my old bacey-box lid !
And the lovely Cockney maidens, their gay swains encircling
round, Oh! if life be but smoke—as I smoke here at home,
Danced in rings, or kissed their “ young men," on that CopidSucking wisdom from out a "long clay,"
hallowed ground. I could wish that my life, when the hour of death's come, Like this smoke should pass purely away!
Thro' these streets so mobbed an 1 dirty, thro' the shades of
might and main.
Sternly told by the official to-" look lively and more on." GREENWICH FAIR.
Vanished is the ancient splendour in the twinkling of an BY SHORTFELLOW.
Ah, alas! that all that's beauteous ever thus mast fade On the margin of the Thames, where the first meridian
and die. passes, Standeth Greenwich, town of fairs, pensioners, and trotting
Not thy vet’rans, nor star-gazers, Greenwich, wo i thee
But thy wild beast shows, and donkeys trotting on the Quaint old town of shrimps and teapots, thou shalt figure in Blackheath sward.
my song, Memories haunt thy ancient park like the tars who round it From the smoke of London city, sang this melancholy lay :
Thus, O Greenwich, I, a wanderer, out on Easter holiday, throng :
Sadly mourning, with a visage lengthy, and a heart most Memories of these bygone ages when from London Bridge
sore, there came
That thy glory has departed, that thy fairs are now RO Steamboats full of blithsome faces, to enjoy each Easter
SKETCHES OF JERSEY.
THE MANIAC'S TALE.-A LEGEND OF GROS NEZ.
"Why don't you go to Jersey ? Why don't you , “awful reductions.” I mistrust exaggerated prothink of Jersey ? Such a pleasant place !-so gay ! fessions of every kind. But, this is going from --so cheerful !—and the climate so mild !" my subject. From the account, set forward by
These questions were propounded to me some the newspaper, the Jerseyites seemed to be the years since, when I was in quest of a temporary most obliging people in the world, willing to proresidence.
vide you with everything which mortal heart could "Jersey ! I should like very much to see desire ; yet, notwithstanding all this, I could not it," thought I. Gay, do they say it is-gay? find one satisfactory reason for steaming over to that won't do for me, for I have thought it proper
see them. long ago to eschew gaiety !"
I read the paper through again ;-I believe I "Cheerful? No harm in cheerfulness, at least," should have spelled it all over, even to the printer’s suggested Inclination : “Such a mild climate !" name, had not my gaze been arrested by a delight
“Devonshire is quite as mild,” whispered Con- ful little bit in one corner, setting forth the prices science.
current of the various condiments of life-mutHow I hated Conscience for the remark, for I ton, beef, lamb, in fact, everything which the wished to go to Jersey.
stomach of man can desire. Heading this list was Well! I pondered on this for full two months, an announcement of startling interest to me; it trying all the time to hit on some reason which ran as follows: Conscience might approve, for a visit to Jersey. I “The Jersey pound contains 17} ounces British racked my brain for every conceivable and incon. weight; thirteen pence, Jersey, is equal to the ceivable motive ; questioned every one I met as English shilling, making a difference to English to the qualifications and advantages of that island; residents of 175 per cent.!" but not one sufficient motive could they furnish I snapped my fingers, and shook my fist (metame with, nothing more at least than the old in- phorically), at old dame Conscience. ducement of gaiety, cheerfulness, and climate; all “Now, you old croaker," I cried, “Now, I've of which that tiresome old jade, Conscience, would mastered you! I dely you to upset that!” not acknowledge, for she all this time kept mum- “Ugh!" growled Conscience, "you're only too bling something about being led away by a glad to take hold of it!" latent love of society-being induced to go too Gaiety," I resumed in soliloquy, "may be had far away from home by high-wrought pictures," at home; cheerfulness, you can carry with you etc.
anywhere; but the seventeen and a half per cent. I resigned myself to my fate then, and made (aye, there's the rub!) can only be found in preparations for going into Devonshire, when, as Jersey; so—to Jersey, I go! Now, be quiet, do, good luck would have it, a Jersey newspaper fell you old grumbler !” I continued; for Conscience into my hands,--an odd antediluvian-looking was beginning to mumble something; " be quiet, thing, with thin paper and bad type, about as and think of the seventeen and a-half per cent.!" large, in toto, as one page of the Times, the Conscience was silent; Conscience, at last was damage of the same being two-pence Jersey, one satisfied ; so, now I had nothing to do, but to depenny-three-farthings and a fraction British cur- cide on the best way of getting to Jersey. rency.
My thoughts vacillated between the Mail I ran my eye listlessly down its columns, and Packet (via Southampton) and the Transit, also read that a certain Mr. A., a house agent, would sailing from the same port. The former started be happy to either find a house or sell one, for me ; at 12 p.m., the latter at 6 p.m.; so, I chose the that another, Mr. B., would provide me with every latter, wishing to see the Needle Rocks by daylight. description of furniture ; that Mr. C. was dis- And here, en passant, I may remark, that, as we posing of his large stock of wines, spirits, etc., did not pass them until nearly ten o'clock, that merely for love, and disdained the idea of profit; hope was disappointed. I remained on deck until and finally, that at a “large establishment” in I was very sleepy, and then I went down stairs the town, where an alarming sacrifice” was being and turned into my berth. I considered it a duty consummated, summer dresses, shawls, bonnets, to be called up in the morning to see the sun rise etc., could be had for nothing at all, or next to at sea, so I gave orders to that effect. The connothing! I coupled the “alarming sacrifice" sequence of this was that I had to turn out of my and the “ next to nothing" together, and men- berth in the cold, raw morning, to look at a great tally determined, should I ever go to Jersey, to red ball which, through the mist (for it was very carefully eschew that shop. There is too much foggy), looked more like a monster orange than profession in these daily alarming sacrifices " and anything else. “It's all a myth, “said I,” this sun
rising at sea, - at least on a foggy morning. I innocent or harmless, which infuses an unwholeshall go down again.” Down I went, and did not some bitter into the cup of Jersey life-slander. show my face a second time until we arrived at That double tongued reptile flourishes in that Guernsey. We landed and had some breakfast, lovely and pleasant island. But this is the usual walked up and down the narrow streets, and then characteristic of a small place—the only meaus re-embarked for Jersey, which pleasant island we the elderly people have, I suppose, of feeding their reached all in good time.
feeble minds, and supplying the deficiency of pubFirst, it appeared like a dim line in the distance; lic information which distance from a large town then, as we came nearer, we could see its long low induces. cliffs. As we passed the headland at the western As soon as I could, I got to sleep, and awoke side of the island, the whole of the beautiful bay the next morning very much refreshed by a good of St. Aubin's came into view, with its miles of night's rest. During the forenoon, I sauntered sandy beach, over which the gentle waves rolled down to the town, and walked through its narrow in so peacefully. Elizabeth Castle (the head- streets. The day was so beautiful, that I deterquarters of the artillery), was the next object. mined to gratify my longing for a drive ; so I Built on a rock, and at high water entirely sur- ordered a carriage to be ready for me at five rounded by the tide, it stands out in bold relief, o'clock. an isolated fortress of dark and gloomy aspect. Five o'clock came, and so did the carriage. This was also passed; and then before us was the " Which way will you drive, Madam ?" the pier, crowded with well dressed people. I wished coachman asked, when I was seated. them all at Jericho, or anywhere else, at that "I am a stranger," I replied; "you must take moment; but my wishing did not remove them, me to the principal points of interest.” so I ran up the slippery steps as quickly as I He drove through the town, and came to a long could, and took refuge in a friendly cab, which road - the St. dubin's road, he called it. It ran philanthropic porter, for the small consideration along the coast. How beautiful that bay was, of a shilling, had engaged for me. The capture of with its intensely blue water on the one side, tle my boxes I entrusted to him, for I could not come rocky and verdant steeps on the other ! There forth again dirty or packet-stained, before those were liouses all along the road, none of them very unpleasantly clean looking people.
inviting or picturesque, it is true, but passably To my intense satisfaction they (the boxes) pretty. The distant country was dotted with were soon arranged by the side of the cab, a beautiful country seats and lovely cottages. goodly pile, for I cannot travel with only a band- Presently we turned out of the main road into box. A horrid suspicion seized me. Should I a valley. The long sloping sides were either have to get out and inspect them ?
covered with luxuriant wood, or divided into hang. My delightful porter again came to the rescue. ing gardens-—"coutils," they are called there.
“Better have a cart for the luggage, ma'am," These, after a time, ceased — we left all habitahe said.
tions behind us; and then came barren looking “Very well," I replied, “will you be so good | bills, covered with the yellow gorse and its golden as to engage one ?" and I gave him another shilling bloom, and the purple heather, in its creeping, to propitiate himn.
wild, luxuriance. The sky was without a cloud, I and my boxes were soon disposed of, and off and blue, bright, intense, and glowing! The we started for the hotel. We passed the Fort- birds' song kept up a perfect chorus in the clear “ Fort Regent," with its massive brickwork, and air. bristling cannon ; its great broad ramparts and I began to dream, and muse, and wonder, and grassy slopes.
think that Jersey was indeed a lovely place. Arrived at the Hotel, I chose my rooms, ordered Beautiful scenery, I have generally noticed, has my dinner, and prepared to make myself comfor- a depressing influence; but it was not so with that table
. As the evening progressed, the carriages enchanting valley. There, all seemed joyousness; and cabs were dashing furiously through the even the carol of the birds produced a feeliug of street.
enjoyment-of happiness. “Is there anything unusual going on ?" I asked, We drove on, and the character of the scenery for I was not prepared for such a noise.
changed. It became wild, rugged, barren. Large Nothing particular, Madam," (you are " Ma- stones covered the narrow and precipitous road. dam,” everywhere in Jersey, syncope de “Ma. On one side was a miniature mountain, or rather, dame"); "only Lady Li's ball."
gigantic bank; on the other, a precipitous descent. · Are there many balls given here, then ?” I On went my charioteer. The road became still asked.
narrower ; had we met any other carriage I do “Oh! yes, plenty; something is going on every not know what we should have done, for passing night.”
would have been an impossibility. I very soon realised the truth of this assertion. At last this interminable road ceased, and me Gaiety is the chief ingredient in Jersey life,-at emerged on to what seemed a narrow plain, 30 least, it is one of the ingredients, and the principal wild, so desolate, so devoid of either tree or one ; unfortunately, there is another, not quite so shrub.
My Jehu drove on as far as he thought safe, and eye would light up suddenly, her pale cheek flush, then, turning round, advised me to alight. and she would hold her head as if in pain, and
"I cannot take my horses any farther," he said, muan! and moan! and moan !" My companion " but you can walk on to the old ruin, there, ceased for one moment, and pressed his hand over right along that path ; you will come to the point his eyes; then he resumed his narrative. at last. It is called . Gros Nez.'”
“We spoke to her grandfather about her, but I thanked bim, and went on alone. What a
he shook his head when we talked of a doctor. scene niet my view as I reached that point! On “By degrees she became paler and paler, and three sides of me, far as the eye could reach, I be- so thin that she seemed hut the spirit of her held nothing but the sea,—so calm, so boundless, former self. Her grandfather watched her closely, so beautiful, -stretching out to the horizon. From but lie would seek no leech's aid. We all knew the point where I stood, the cliff descended per- that he had some reason for this, but we did not pendicularly for some two hundred feet, to a small dare question him, for he was a proud, reserved pebbly beach, where the tiny waves rolled in man, and said little to any of us. The spring and mimic fury.
The water here was of the deepest summer passed, and the long autumn began. Tho green, and clear as crystal. I stood entranced. flowers were all dying, and the trees showed There was a peculiar loneliness and stillness in the symptoms of decaying foliage. They hore a sad scene, which brought the tears into my eyes, and analogy to Marie-she, sweet blossom, faded as made me think on by.gone years and scenes, when they did. And now another change came over her. the world had smiled more brightly on me.
She would wander out alone at night, in the calm, Suddenly, I heard a sigh, and, for the first time, cold moonlight, murmuring to herself words which discovered that I was not alone. A man, whose none could understand. She would sing; but her restless eyes, and nervous manner, proclaimed a tones were such as belong to the fabled syrensmind ill at ease, stood beside me. How, or from wild potes of enchanting sweetness-- melancholy whence, he came, I never knew; for until that mo. strains of phantom music. Many a night have I ment there had been no trace of human being watched her, as she paced the shingled beach, 10
covering on her head, her golden hair streaming in "Lady," he said, and a slightly foreign accent the wind, her face so pale and wan, her grandfather told me that he was not my countryman, Lady, always following her at a distance, never letting would you like to hear a tale of sorrow, connected her know that he watched her.
At length, with that old ruin ". And he pointed to the strange murmurs began to be afloat. The village archway. I answered in the affirmative.
crones would point, and the village children “ 'Tis not known as one of the legends of the tremble, as Marie, her eyes fixed on the distant place,” he said “but 'tis chronicled in the hearts heavens, her hands crossed on her white bosom, of those who wept for her whose spirit still wan- would walk past them. "See !' they would whisders round this spot. But I must begin, for the per, ‘See, the old man and his changeling grandsun is dipping in the horizon, and the sea-birds child.' bave channted their good night to him.
“ Marie was now unmindful of all. She never "It happened many years ago ; for I was a boy spoke, but seemed to move in a living dream. She then, and eighty summers have since passed over was more beautiful than the fabled houris; but her my head. At that time, Marie Langelier was beauty was not that of an earthly creature. the pride of this fair island. I can remember her At length, once, at the dead of night, while the as she used to trip along to the village Church ; moon was at its full, she rose and dressed herself. her eye as bright and blue as our own Jersey sky, Her grandfather, who was always on the watch, her spotless skin as pure as her unsullied heart, heard her; so he rose too, and just caught a
- nothing could be purer than that!—her laugh, glimpse of her as she left the house. He followed music and sunshine combined. She was only her, as usual. She walked on, and on, and on, her fifteen. I used to look, and look, and admire, and eyes still fixed on the bright stars, her hands, as
but my admiration and wonder were tinc. ever, crossed on her breast, murmuring to herself tured by a feeling which I could not define, words which were understood by none but the something akiu to fear. I did not know then, why spirits which led her on. She traversed coast, I should feel this; but I do know now.
valley, bill, and dale, without stopping. That slight “Marie was never allowed to mix with anyone in form seemed to know neither impediment nor the place; she might give a kind 'good day to all, fatigue in its ghastly walk. On and on still, until but nothing more. She was accompanied in her she reached this plain, her grandfather following daily walks by her aged grar:dfather, who seemed her closely. When she gained that ruin, she to doat upon her.
stopped and turned ber face towards him. Such a "Well, years passed away, and a change came face! It was of livid whiteness; the features over Marie. She no longer sang as she ran along rigid, fixed; the eyes glassy! the face of the
- her voice had lost its melody, her step its dead! [The narrator trembled and dropped on joyousness. She would wander on with her grand his knees, then started wildly to bis feet as he confather, sadly, slowly. The 'good-day' was still tinued.] She beckoned with her spectral band, given, but in so sad, so low a voice! Her blue and her grandfather approached ber; but, as he