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To moan their loss who hazard ran;
By manners love to show the man;
First made me dote on lovely Nan.'
And so on, and so on, with gentle Anna and buxom Nan; and poor Fanny, who drowned herself in the waves near to the place where hung the trembling pines; and poor Peggy, who loved a soldier lad (a marine, without doubt); and bonny Kate, who lived happily afterwards with Tom Clueline. Ellen joined in the choruses with her sweet voice; but, strange to say, she had not been asked to sing until the Old Sailor, struck perhaps by a sudden remorse at monopolising the harmony, called upon her for a song. Ellen, nothing loth, asked what song; and Joshua said,
Sing the song you learnt of mother, Ellen.'
““Bread-and-Cheese and Kisses”?' inquired Ellen.
· Yes, “Bread - and- Cheese and Kisses." — 'Tisn't quite a girl's song, sir' (to the Old Sailor); 'but it is a good song, and Ellen sings it nicely.'
Hooray, then, for “Bread-and-Cheese and Kisses !"' cried the Old Sailor, casting a glance
of intense admiration at Ellen, who, without more ado, sang as follows:
BREAD-AND-CHEESE AND KISSES.
One day, when I came home fatigued,
And felt inclined to grumble, Because my life was one of toil,
Because my lot was humble, I said to Kate, my darling wife,
In whom my whole life's bliss is, •What have you got for dinner, Kate ?'
Why, bread-and-cheese and kisses !'
Though worn and tired, my heart leaped up
As those plain words she uttered. Why should I envy those whose bread
Than mine's more thickly buttered ? I said, 'We'll have dessert at once.' . What's that? she asked.
* Why, this is.' I kissed her. Ah, what sweeter meal
Than bread-and-cheese and kisses ?
I gazed at her with pure delight;
She nodded and smiled gaily ;
I'd dine with pleasure daily.
When I but think of you, dear girl,
I pity those fine misses
At bread-and-cheese and kisses.
And when I look on your dear form,
And on your face so homely ;
And on your dress so comely;
I laugh at Fortune's misses.
And bread-and-cheese and kisses.'
Thus ended the happy day.
MINNIE AND HER SHELL.
So the simple ways of Joshua's simple life were drawing to a close. He had chosen his career, and to-morrow he would be at the end of the quiet groove in which he had hitherto moved, and would step upon rougher roads, to commence the battle which dooms many a fair-promising life to a despairing death, and out of which no one comes without scars and wounds which art and time are powerless to heal. To-morrow he was to leave a father almost too indulgent; a mother whose heart was as true in its motherly affection for him as the needle is to the pole; a friend who gave
him a love as tender and as pure as that which angels could feel.
During the past week he had been busily engaged in leave-taking, and he had been surprised to find what a number of friends he had. There was not one of the poor neighbours, in the poor locality in which he had passed his boyhood's days, who had not kind words and good wishes for him, and who did not give them heartily and without stint. Many a hearty hand-shake from men whose hands he had never touched before, and many a motherly kiss from women he had been in the habit of saying only Good-morning to, did Joshua receive. There is a stronger knitting of affection between poor people in poor neighbourhoods than there is among the rich in their wider thoroughfares. Perhaps it is the narrow streets that draw them closer to each other; perhaps it is the common struggle to keep body and soul together in which they are all engaged; perhaps it is the unconscious recognition of a higher law of humanity than prevails elsewhere; perhaps it is the absence of the wider barriers of exclusiveness, among which the smaller and more beautiful flowers of feeling—being so humble and unassuming--are in danger of being lost or overlooked. Anyhow the ties of affection are stronger among the poor. Putting necessity and sickness aside, more mothers nurse their babes from loye among the poor than among the rich.