Then the black storms shake their mantles
O'er the leaf-forsaken trees,
And the snipe comes with the woodcock
And the culver seeks the leas,
And the little lads are busy
Making ready for the fray,
With their cannon, logs, and crackers,
For the great Guy Fawkes's day-
When the piles of blazing bonfires,
And the spiteful, hissing toys,
As serpents, squibs, and fiery rockets,
Please both large and lesser boys;
Then the skylarks flock together,
And the linnets, crowding sing,
And the children mid the heather
Red rose berries gladly string;
Then the fruits all safely hoarded,
Lo, the farmer waits for morn,
With a shout for bleak November
And the merry hunter's horn;
While the dormouse and the squirrel,
Curling cosy in their nest,
Tell of merry Christmas coming
And a weary earth at rest.
A TRUE INCIDENT OF THE RAIL.
BRAVE Jack Chiddy-Oh, well you may sneer,
For the name isn't one that sounds nice in the ear;
But a name is a sound-nothing more-deeds are best,
And Jack had the soul of a man in his breast.
Now, I heard you say that you're fond of a tale
If it bears upon railway men and the rail.
Well, here is one that will suit you, I know,
Though it happened a good many years ago.
Jack Chiddy-there you are smiling again
At the name, which I own is both common and plain— Jack Chiddy, I say, wrought along with his mates,
Year in and year out, on a section of plates.
Simple enough was the work, with no change
But to see that both lines were in gauge
Fasten a key there, and tighten a bolt,
All to keep fast trains from giving a jolt.
Strange when one thinks where a hero may rise,
Say at times, in a moment, before our eyes,
Or right from our side ere we know it, and do
The work of a giant and pass from our view.
But the story? you say-Well, I'm coming to that,
Though I wander a little-now, where was I at?
Let me see.
Can you catch, shining round and clear,
The mouth of the Breslington tunnel from here?
You see it? Well, right on the bank at the top,
When stacking some blocks, all at once, down the slope
A huge slab of stone from the rest shore its way,
And fell down on the up-line of metals and lay.
One sharp cry of terror burst forth from us all,
As we saw the huge mass topple over and fall.
We stood as if bound to the spot, dumb of speech,
Reading horror and doubt in the faces of each.
Then one of our mates snatched a glance at his watch,
Gave a start and a look that made each of us catch
At our breath, then a cry, that thrill'd our hearts through-
"My God! the 'Flying Dutchman' is overdue!"
Hark, straight from over the hill we could hear
A dull, dead sound coming faint to the ear,
Then a short, sharp whistle that told with its blast
That the "Dutchman" was into the tunnel at last.
And there on the rail lay that huge mass of stone,
And the "Dutchman" behind coming thundering on ;
In a minute or less he would come with a dash,
And a hundred lives would be lost in the crash.
"Now, for your life, Jack!" for Chiddy had flown
Down the bank, and three leaps brought him close to the stone.
Not of his own life, for wife and child's sake,
Thought he, but the hundreds that now were at stake.
'Twas the work of a moment. With terrible strength
And a heave of the shoulder the slab moved at length—
Slipped clear of the rail—when, half-muffled in smoke,
From the mouth of the tunnel the "Dutchman” broke.
There was one sharp whistle, a roar, and a crash
Of wheels ringing clear on the rail, and a flash
Of coiling smoke, and a glitter and gleam
Of iron and steel, and then down fell the steam.
Not a breath could we draw, but stood blank with dismay
As the train tore along, making up for delay;
Till at last from us all burst a shout and a cheer,
When we knew that the "Dutchman" had passed and was clear.
And Chiddy? Ah me! you will pardon these tears,
For he was my mate on the rails many years.
When we found him one look was enough to reveal
That Jack's life-blood was red on the engine-wheel.
Brave Jack Chiddy! Now you don't sneer
At the name which I own is but harsh to the ear;
But a name is a sound-nothing more-deeds are best,
And Jack had the soul of a man in his breast.
WIPE your red swords on the manes
Of your battle-charging steeds;
Trail the banner from the plains
Where your brothers fell like reeds :
Pitch the saw-dust from your ships ;
Bid your cannon close their lips ;
War is thrown into eclipse
By Jerome.
It was on the roaring sea
When the ship was all a-flame
And a-drifting to the lee,
That the gallant sailor came
In his might ;
Not to do a deed of blood
Did he dare the flame and flood,
But like mercy's angel stood
In the light.
How he leaped upon the deck
Through the thunder and the smoke;
How he lifted o'er the wreck
A pale group that he woke
From despair.
Let the mother teach the child
Whom he caught from ruin wild,
While the dark death-angel smiled
On the glare.
It was not for Title's star
That he dared the flame and smoke:
Oh, a nobler feeling far
Lightened through his "heart of oak !"
It was love;
And then an Order old
As the man of Eden's mould,
For the sailor was enrolled
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