"What is her cause of grief?Come tell me, little man," I said,
"Come tell me, and be brief."
Clasping his sister closer still,
He kissed her tear-stained face,
And thus, in homely Yorkshire phrase,
He told their mournful case.
———
"Mi mammy, sir, shoos liggin thear,
I' th' shut-up bed i'th' nook;
An' tho aw've tried to wakken her,
Shoo'll nawther spaik nor look.
Mi sissy wants her porridge,
An its time shoo had 'em too;
But th' foir's gooan aght an th' mail's all done—
Aw dooant know what to do.
An O, my mammy's varry cold—
Just come an touch her arm:
Aw've done mi best to hap her up,
But connot mak her warm.
Mi daddy he once fell asleep,
An nivver wakken'd moor:
Aw saw 'em put him in a box,
An tak him aght o'th' door.
He nivver comes to see us nah,
As once he used to do,
An let mi ride upon his back—
Me, an mi sissy too.
An if they know mi mammy sleeps,
Soa cold, an white, an still,
Aw'm feeard they'll come an fotch her, sir;
O, sir, aw'm feeard they will!
Aw happen could get on misen,
For aw con work a bit,
But little sissy, sir, yo see,
Shoo's varry young as yet.
Oh! dunnot let fowk tak mi mam!
Help me to rouse her up!
An if shoo wants her physic,
See—it's in this little cup.
Aw know her heead wor bad last neet,
When putting us to bed;
Shoo said, 'God bless yo, little things!'
An that wor all shoo sed.
Aw saw a tear wor in her e'e—
In fact, it's seldom dry:
Sin daddy went shoo allus cries,
But nivver tells us why.
Aw think it's coss he isn't here,
'At maks her e'en soa dim;
Shoo says, he'll nivver come to us,
But we may goa to him.
But if shoo's gooan an left us here,
What mun we do or say?—
We connot follow her unless,
Somebody 'll show us th' way."
——
My heart was full to bursting,
When I heard the woeful tale;
I gazed a moment on the face
Which death had left so pale;
Then clasping to my heaving breast
The little orphan pair,
I sank upon my bended knees,
And offered up a prayer,
That God would give me power to aid
Those children in distress,
That I might as a father be
Unto the fatherless.
Then coaxingly I led them forth;
And as the road was long,
I bore them in my arms by turns—
Their tears had made me strong.
I took them to my humble home,
Where now they may be seen,
The lad—a noble-minded youth—
His "sissy,"—beauty's queen.
And now if you should chance to see,
Far from the bustling throng,
An old man, whom a youth and maid
Lead tenderly along;—
And if you, wondering, long to know
The history of the three—
They are the little orphan pair—
The poor old man is me:
And oft upon the grassy mound
'Neath which their parents sleep,
They bend the knee, and pray for me;
I pray for them and weep.
Did yo Ivver!
"Gooid gracious!" cried Susy, one fine summer's morn,
"Here's a bonny to do! aw declare!
Aw wor nivver soa capt sin th' day aw wor born!
Aw neer saw sich a seet at a fair.
Here, Sally! come luk! There's a maase made its nest
Reight i'th' craan o' mi new Sundy bonnet!
Haivver its fun its way into this chist,
That caps me! Aw'm fast what to mak on it!
It's cut! Sithee thear! It's run reight under th' bed!
An luk here! What's these little things stirrin?
