"We propose soon to take our rescued Street-Arabs for 'A Fortnight's Holiday under Canvas'—by the sea, if possible."—Appeal of Mr. J.W.C. Fegan, of the Boys' Home, Southwark.
Thalatta! Thalatta! Not XENOPHON'S Greeks, O benevolent Public, but "Nobody's Boys,"
Wild Arabs of London, by tenderness tamed, at the sight of the sea vent exuberant joys
In vociferous shoutings! Imagine the rapture of wrecks from the gutter and waifs from the slum,
When first on their ears falls the jubilant thrill of the sky-soaring lark, or the wild bee's low hum!
Imagine the pleasure of plunging at will into June's leafy copses of hazel and lime,
Of scudding through acres of grasses knee-high, and of snuffing the fragrance of clover and thyme.
But what is all this to the dumb-stricken wonder, swift followed by outbursts of full-throated glee,
Which fancy can picture, when London's pale outcasts from some grassy cliff catch first sight of the Sea!