W. Hoyle.
* * * * *
THE LITTLE HERO.
From Liverpool 'cross the Atlantic,
The good ship floating o'er the deep,
The skies bright with sunshine above us,
The waters beneath us asleep;
Not a bad-temper'd mariner 'mongst us,
A jollier crew never sail'd,
'Cept the first mate, a bit of a savage,
But good seaman as ever was hail'd.
One day he comes up from below deck,
A-graspin' a lad by the arm,
A poor little ragged young urchin,
As ought to bin home with his marm.
An' the mate asks the boy pretty roughly
How he dared for to be stow'd away?
A-cheating the owners and captain,
Sailin', eatin', and all without pay.
The lad had a face bright and sunny,
An' a pair of blue eyes like a girl's,
An' looks up at the scowling first mate, boys,
An' shakes back his long shining curls.
An' says he in a voice clear and pretty,
"My stepfather brought me a-board,
And hid me away down the stairs there,
For to keep me he could not afford.
And he told me the big ship would take me
To Halifax town, oh, so far;
An' he said, 'Now the Lord is your Father,
Who lives where the good angels are!'"
"It's a lie," says the mate,—"Not your father,
But some o' these big skulkers here,
Some milk-hearted, soft-headed sailor,
Speak up! tell the truth! d'ye hear?"
Then that pair o' blue eyes bright and winn'n',
Clear and shining with innocent youth,
Looks up at the mate's bushy eyebrows,
An' says he, "Sir, I've told you the truth!"
Then the mate pull'd his watch from his pocket,
Just as if he'd bin drawing his knife,
"If in ten minutes more you don't tell, lad,
There's the rope! and good-bye to dear life!"
Eight minutes went by all in silence,
Says the mate then, "Speak, lad, say your say!"
His eyes slowly filling with tear-drops,
He falteringly says, "May I pray?"
An' the little chap kneels on the deck there,
An' his hands he clasps o'er his breast,
As he must ha' done often at home, lads,
At night time when going to rest.
And soft came the first words, "Our Father,"
Low and clear from that dear baby-lip,
But low as they were, heard like trumpet
By each true man aboard o' the ship.
Every bit o' that pray'r then he goes through,
To "for ever and ever. A-men!"
An' for all the bright gold in the Indies,
I wouldn't ha' heard him agen!
Off his feet was the lad sudden lifted,
And clasp'd to the mate's rugged breast,
An' his husky voice muttered, "God bless you,"
As his lips to his forehead he press'd.
"You believe me now?" then said the youngster,
"Believe you!" he kissed him once more,
"You'd have laid down your life for the truth, lad;
I believe you! from now, ever-more."
* * * * *
WANTED.
The world wants men—light-hearted, manly men—
Men who shall join its chorus and prolong
The psalm of labour and the song of love.