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So the Captain called the outcast, as be faced the tem
From his own waist took his life-belt, and he bound it
round the child. "I can swim, my little fellow! take my belt, and make
for land. Up, and save yourself !” The outcast humbly kuelt to
kiss his band. With the life-belt round his body then the urchin cleared
the ship, Over went the gallant Captain, with a blessing on his lip. But the hurricane howled louder than it ever bowled be
fore, As the Captain and the Stowaway were making for the
shore ! When you tell this gallant story to your playfellows at
Safe—the battered, breathing body of the little Stow
away; Then they watched the waves of wreckage, and they
searched the cruel shore, But the man who tried to save the little outcast-was no
more. When they speak of English heroes, tell this story where
you can, To the everlasting credit of the bravery of man. Tell it out in tones of triumph, or with tears of quickened
breath, “Manhood's stronger far than storms, and Love is mightier
From “ Poems for Recitation,” by kind permission of the Author.
MR. TWIDDLE'S TROUBLE.
BY WALTER G, BAYNHAM,
My name is Teviotdale Twiddle; my age-two-andtwenty; income-four hundred a-year; conditionbacbelor; profession-gentleman. I suffer from a species of nervousness that exhibits itself in a propensity to meddle with every object that comes within reach. Most unfortunately all these individual volitions are exhibited on my part without my having at the time the slightest idea of what I am doing. Say that I talk to a friend in the street, I discover myself fingering his chain, or fumbling over his shirt collar. Only last week I was ignominiously dismissed the house of a most valued clerical acquaintance through unconsciously pulling off the apron of the maid-servant and tying it round myself, whilst making preliminary enquiries on the doorstep of the rectory. On the previous evening I was present at one of the most fashionable concerts of the season. Enraptured with one of the exquisite airs from “Martha," I all at once discovered myself breathing on, polishing, looking through, and unscrewing a pair of opera glasses which somebody bad placed in my immediate proximity. I was of course confused; and, looking round, I encountered the eyes of a young lady fixed on me as firmly as a bee on a sunflower. I was enraptrued; for the moment.
a entranced-spell-bound by her beauty. She was evidently the owner of the glasses; she tried to take them from me, extended her hand, I, with my habitual infirmity, no less naturally took her hand in mine. Her friends remonstrated; I attempted to apologize; redress or explanation was refused; several misguided individuals in the gallery shouted “ORDER,” some one in the front seats cried, “SEND FOR THE POLICE;" and I was carried out of the hall. Bent on an explanation, I hurried to the music-sellers where the tickets were procured and places booked. I gave them a description of the whole party, and ascertained they came from the house of a Mrs Scripp, who resided in the neighbourhood. Scripp! the
name was familiar; I remembered a fourth cousin of that name by my mother's side, who, (so I was once told), resided somewhere in India. I called at the house, asked for the mistress, sent in my card, and was ushered into the drawing-room. As my thoughts became concentrated on what would probably be my reception, my unhappy failing obtruded itself with a force that my sturdiest resolution could not withstand. Every article in the room came in its turn to be the object of my tampering proclivity. I will not allude to the fancy Oriental dusting brush, the feathers of which I plucked out so vehemently, that in less than two minutes, it was as bald as the head of a sucking pig; neither will I advert to a bottle of Eau de Cologne, with wbich, in my melancholy excited unconsciousness, I saturated my pocket-handkerchief and every chair and anti-macassar in the immediate vicinity; I will not dwell upon the fact that of the plants in the adjoining conservatory, I plucked several stems perfectly bare; nor my feelings on being subsequently informed that I had decorated my button-hole with a rhododendron.
One object was destined to inflict on me, in fifteen minutes, more misery, than in half a century I could attempt to describe. My recreant fingers happening to stray upon--what? A NECKLACE!-A DIAMOND NECKLACE! lying in an open velvet case on the table. “ Diamonds! hers of course! Diamonds! not half so brilliant as her eyes! a necklace too! It has clasped her neck, her swan-like throat, so wbite, so majestic! Ah!” I continued, as I contemplated it, “what's my throat in comparison with hers; it would go about half way round that, I suppose. Why shouldn't I try it on and see what a brute I looked, compared with that most graceful female of all the feminine gender !”
I took the necklace up, and put it at the back of my neck: was taking the exact measurement of that part of my anatomy in proportion to hers, when—the parlour door was suddenly opened, and—“ My mistress will see you directly," said the servant entering. I started—Oh
goodness gracious! horror of horrors! THE NECKLACE SLIPPED DOWN MY BACK!!!
I thrust one hand down my back, and the other up inside my coat-tail to stop its progress.
“What's the matter, sir?" gasped the girl.
“ Lor' bless us, sir!" said the girl, “ do you keep your gloves there?”
I don't know what I answered, I continued to dive into the recesses of my back; I was just clutching the object of my search, when I raised my eyes and encountered a demure-looking genteel lady of some fifty-five summers— she was gazing through a pair of gold spectacles on me in my interesting posture, evidently with a species of bewildered fascination.
“Good morning, ma'am,” I stammered, as I struggled into an erect posture; “Mrs. Scripp?”
She motioned me to take a seat. Then there ensued an ominous pause. I spasmodically buttoned my coat, and clapped my band to the centre of my back.
"You seem uneasy,” frigidly observed the old lady
“Yes, madam," I replied, confusedly, as I felt the necklace taking another leap, “that is, if I must tell you, I am suffering from-from-CORNS," I added, to clinch the explanation.
“With CORNS, sir?” she ejaculated. 66 What! IN THE MIDDLE OF YOUR BACK? May I inquire the object of your visit, Mr.
-?” said Mrs. Scripp. “My name is Twiddle, ma'am-Teviotdale Twiddle."
Every moment was consigning the necklace further into inexplorable regions. If I could but get her out of the room, but for an instant, whilst I divested myself of my coat and vest, I should be satisfied; but such an idea was hopeless,—There she sat, with an immovable dignity; these gold spectacles, under which all my words, thoughts, acts, my very limbs themselves, all but my back seemed paralyzed. I expected every moment the gold spectacles would be removed from me, only to discover the empty case, and that the necklace was missing.
“ Mr. Twiddle,—Teviotdale Twiddle,” I found myself
murmuring. “I am most respectably connected. I've four hundred a-year, and—”
“I am not aware that it's necessary to present your credentials Mr.
“ Twiddle, ma’am, Teviotdale Twiddle.” There was a pause. I felt driven to desperation when - I remembered suddenly that I had distant relatives of the name of Scripp living somewhere in India. In an instant I had hazarded the experiment-unfortunately, as it turned out—with the most disastrous results.
I beg your pardon, but the fact is, I am nearly related to your family.”
. “ To my family ? " echoed the old lady.
“ Yes! by the Indian branch,—the Scripps of-of-of Bombay."
The old lady rose, stared; then beaming with delight she exclaimed. “You are he, then? I thought so from the first.”
She took me by both hands, and fell upon my neck in a shower of tears and hysterical sobs.
“Goodness gracious, ma'am!" I shouted, struggling to relieve myself. “Compose yourself; what is the matter?”
“ After so many years of absence, too!” said the lady, “ to think we should meet and be about to part like this. You, too, her husband.” Down the old lady sank on my neck. Why did
send us in false name? continued the old lady. “To give us the greater surprise? Ob, you wicked Don Juan, you! But you want to see your wife, of course. You shall see her-she has been expecting you all day.”
She advanced towards the bell. My situation was every minute growing more alarming. I had never met with anything so awful. Ma'am," I began, imploringly. “ Don't! pray don't, ma'am!”
66 Ma'am! cried the delighted old lady. “Call me mamma! Mary said you would be here to-day. I didn't believe it, but—"
“ Don't ma'am-mamma, I mean—excuse me ma'am, I'm not here at all—that is, he isn't here at all—I ought