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 rubbed the delf, Said I might "go to Jericho, and fetch my beer my self!" I did not go to Jericho-I went to Mr. Cobb-* I changed a shilling-(which in town the people call "a Bob") It was not so much for myself as for that vulgar child And 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 chair I 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?" * QUI FACIT PER ALIUM, FACIT PER SE.-Deem not, gentle stranger, that Mr. Cobb is a petty dealer and chapman, as Mr. Simpkinson would here seem to imply. He is a maker, not a retailer of stingo-and mighty pretty tipple he makes. 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 mantelpiece 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!-all are gone!-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, "Ο 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 "muckingtogs," and a hat turned up with green. He spoke about his "precious eyes," and said he'd seen him "sheer," -It's very odd that Sailor-men should talk so very queer And 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 Mill And 'cause he gammons so the flats, ve calls him Veeping Bill!" He said "he'd done me wery 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; 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." He sent for Mr. Whithair then, and I described "the swag," My Macintosh, my sugar-tongs, my spoons and carpetbag; He promised that the New Police should all their powers employ! But never to this hour have I beheld that vulgar Boy! MORAL. Remember, then, that when a boy I've heard my Grandma tell, "BE WARN'D IN TIME BY OTHER'S HARM, AND YOU SHALL DO FULL WELL!" Don't link yourself with vulgar folks, who've got no fixed abode, Tell lies, use naughty words, and say they "wish they may be blow'd!" |