His brow was sad because it bore
A costlier hat than e'er before;
His feet were sadder; he'd to pay
For boots that quickly wore away,
Excelsior!

In oyster shops he saw the shells
Wherein the luscious bivalve dwells,
But had no chance of shelling out,

And murmured, as he dreamt of stout,
Excelsior!

"Try this rump-steak!" the butcher said; "At Tillyfour the ox was bred; Juicy it is, M'Combie's pride,

46

And only one-and-six." He sighedExcelsior!

'Stay!" cried a maiden of the bar, "A shilling buys a good cigarTen more some icy dry champagne." He shook his head and cried again, Excelsior!

"Take comfort," said a Hebrew mild;
"I love to help a Christian child.
My moderate terms are cent. per cent.
'Twas sixty once," he thought, and went-
Excelsior!

At dead of night that wayward youth,
So saddened by the eternal truth,

Was by a pious peeler found,

Who kindly raised him from the ground, Excelsior!

He uttered words that can't be told,
Said eating game was eating gold,
Showered maledictions on the souls

Of those who raise the price of coals-
Excelsior!

When morning shone upon the town,
He had to pay five shillings down,
And blessed the rulers of the skies,
The price of Justice does not rise,
Excelsior!

MORTIMER COLLINS.

The London Magazine. February, 1876.

"CLEAN YOUR DOOR-STEP, MARM?"

THE shades of night were some time past,
And snow had fallen thick and fast;
A youth, who broom and shovel bore,
Was heard to call outside the door,

"Clean your doorstep, Marm? "

In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright,
The singing kettle brightly shone-
Again, again, his well-known tone-

"Clean your doorstep, Marm?'

His brow was sad-his chilly nose,
Like fiery coals, glow'd in the snows,
And, as the kitchen bell he rang,
In accents clear he loudly sang,

"Clean your door-step, Marm

"Oh, stay," the girl said, "while I see,
As I takes up the toast and tea;
And if your charge is not too high "-
"A tanner's all," the poor boy's cry,

"To clean your door-step, Marm!"

He set to work with all his might,
But suddenly went out of sight;-
Half-buried in the coals was found
The youth who sang that piteous sound,
"Clean your door-step, Marm!"

Some rascal in the night had twigged,
The coal-iron loose, which he had prigged,
. If I'd a know'd a hole was there,

I would o' coorse ha' took more care Cleaning your door-step, Marm!"

His eyes were wild; his brow above
Was crumpled like an old kid glove;
And like some hoarse crow's grating note
That word still quivered in his throat,
"That Thirty-four ! "

"Oh, give it up!" his comrades said,
"It only muddles your poor head;
It is not worth your finding out."
He answered with a wailing shout,
"That Thirty-four!"

"Art not content," the maiden said,
"To solve the 'Fifteen' one instead?"
He paused-his tearful eyes he dried-
Gulped down a sob, then sadly sighed,
"That Thirty-four!"

At midnight, on their high resort,
The cats were startled at their sport,
To hear, beneath one roof, a tone
Gasp out, betwixt a snore and groan,
66 That Thirty-four!"

His eyes flashed brightly in his head,
Till, as the notice-boards he read,

His cheeks for one short moment blenched,
But soon he cried, with fingers clenched,
"The Heath is ours!"

Then he recalled the large amount
The people'd paid that they might count
That Heath their own, and then again
He shouted out, with might and main,
"The Heath is ours!"

As thus he cried, a keeper came,

And roughly said, "Young man! Your name?
I'll summons you for spouting here."
"Bah," cried the youth, "I have no fear-
The Heath is ours."

The liveried myrmidon but jeered,

'Well, that's the queerest tale I've heerd;
This 'eath's been taken by our Board."
Much moved, the youth in answer roared,
"The Heath is ours."

"Rouse not his ire," an old man said;
"You have not, p'rhaps, the by-laws read?
Alas! he's might upon his side."
"Go to!" the eager youth replied,
"The Heath is ours!"

"O stay!" a maiden said, "nor pass
In that mad way across the grass!

You will be fined. Oh, please don't go !" "Thanks!" cried the youth, "but I must show The Heath is ours!"

Then, rising 'gainst crass Bumble's yoke, He every stupid by-law broke,

And when stern keepers asked his name,
Still loud the self-same answer came :
"The Heath is ours!"

As evening fell, a tottering form,
All heedless of the gathering storm,
Defied each notice-board he passed,
And cried-determined to the last :
"The Heath is ours!"

"O, stay," the maiden said, “ a rest

Pray give us! What with Bixby's Best,' And Simmons' Pills,' we're like to die.' He only answered, "Will you trySapolio?"

"Beware them Peaks! That wall so bright
Is but a snow bank, gleaming white,
Your paint won't stick!"; came the reply,
"I've done it! How is that for high?
Sapolio."

One Sabbath morn, as heavenward
White mountain tourists slowly spurred,
On ev'ry rock to their dismay,

They read that legend, strange alway

Sapolio."

"Beware of rain,” an old man said,
"Dark lowers the tempest overhead,"
The youth made quite a little speech,
"I fear no rain if once I reach

13, Cross Cheaping."

"Oh stay," a maiden said, and "rest;
Put not your strength to further test,"
A smile lurked in his bright blue eye,
And merrily he made reply:

"13, Cross Cheaping."

"Once safely there, I shall forget

My tired feet, and dread of wet;
Whilst buying where I've bought before;
Whilst choosing from that well-filled store,
13, Cross Cheaping."

"Their Boots have richly earned their fame;
Their SHOES have gained an envied name;
What matters mud, however thick,
When once your feet are shod by DICK,
13, Cross Cheaping."

THE drizzling rain was falling fast,
As thro' the streets of London passed
A youth who bore a neat and nice
Umbrella with the strange device,

"The Imperceptible."'

His step was firm, erect his form,
As heedless of the gathering storm
He homeward hied with dauntless mien
Beneath that elemental screen-

"The Imperceptible."

He saw umbrellas creased and torn,
By wet and angry persons borne,
And sorrowing o'er their wretched plight,
He pitied those who lacked that night
"The Imperceptible."

"Best try a cab," an old friend said;
"Dark lowers the tempest overhead,