CHO.--Hurrah, boys! for the fire brigade-- The men resolved to stand In danger's front and bear the brunt Of this foe to our land.

When fire is reached and water got; In haste the hose they lay; They fall to work, each brave "red coat,"

By night as well as day.

And now the hook and ladder boys--look!

Have made their "grapples" fast To that huge frame midst glowing flame, And down it comes at last.

CHO.--Hurrah, then! for the Fire Brigade, Who heed not flame and smoke; They work as though such working made The zest of some good joke!

THE FIRE ALARM.

JUNE, 1859

Fire--fire--fire! Nigher still and nigher Seem the tones of the "Alarum bell" borne on the air!

Awaking with a start, what a sinking of the heart Even the strong are apt to feel, ere they are well aware!

Fire--fire--fire! Higher now and higher Leaps the madly raging flames as the cry goes round!

In the darkness of the night what a truly awful sight Is the burning up of homes, while we listen to the sound.

Fire--fire--fire! Behold the havoc dire!

When the black, wreathing smoke a moment clears away-- The flames both hiss and roar as the brave firemen pour Constantly the crystal streams from Engines in full play.

Fire--fire--fire! Fresh force it does acquire!

The rising wind has sent the blaze unto the other side!

Yet men are standing round in torpor most profound; Rouse ye up! now fall to work, and let your strength be tried!

Fire--fire--fire! Two blocks seem one vast pyre.

Oh, pity the poor houseless ones--fleeing now away!

Screen them from Winter's blast, for they are on you cast-- That sympathy in measure their losses may repay.

Fire--fire--fire! Thank G.o.d, the flames expire!

For a cold, but drenching rain most opportunely comes.

Now honor that Brigade which has such efforts made, And don't forget your neighbors who have just lost their homes.

MY OLD ARM CHAIR.

1859.

My old Arm Chair! The wear and tear Thou hast endured for me, Long ere this time deserved a rhyme Expressly made to thee.

When I thee bought, thy varnished coat And well proportioned frame My house adorned, and no one scorned Thee Rocking Chair to name.

But since that day, my bairns in play, Have tumbled thee about, Till thou appears well struck with years, And truly nigh worn out.

Dear to my heart--I'm loth to part With such a well tried friend; Yet even repairs to old arm chairs Must some time have an end.

I've patched thee oft; and cushions soft Those patches somewhat screen; Still, thy poor arms--reft of paint's charms Are scarce fit to be seen.

The rockers, too, I did renew-- Will hardly yield a rocking.

But out of sight to cast thee quite Would, to my mind, be shocking.

I therefore say: Thou here shalt stay As long as I remain; And no neglect I can detect Shall cause thee to complain.

Farewell, Arm Chair! thou canst not fare Much worse than I have done; For, by my pen, from fellow men Large share of scorn I've won.

A TRIBUTE TO THE BRAVERY OF MY COUSIN, MRS. T. A. COWHERD, WHO CROSSED THE ATLANTIC IN MID-WINTER WITH THREE HELPLESS CHILDREN, AND UNDER VERY TRYING CIRc.u.mSTANCES.

1855.

Dear cousin, I hail you as Mother most brave, Who crossed in mid-winter Atlantic's broad wave!

What you had to suffer in part I conceive, Though no gloomy story you made me believe.

a.s.sisted by Fancy I see your sad plight, Before busy Liverpool pa.s.sed from your sight; On shipboard I view you with three little babes, While the vessel rides proudly o'er blue ocean waves.

One small, year-old infant then hangs at your breast, And one child much older disturbs your night's rest By her frequent wailings from sickness most sore.

The third is but young and yet needs watching o'er.

I still look and wonder how you could bear up, When drinking so deeply of this bitter cup.

I picture you gazing, with tears in your eyes, Upon the poor sufferer and hushing her cries.

The vessel by dread winter tempests is tossed, And many more favored give all up for lost.

But Hope--that sweet Angel! your courage supports, And in these great trials to _trust G.o.d_ exhorts.

I fancy I see you while nearing the land, On the ship's crowded deck in sorrow now stand, Still watching your babe as she gives her last sigh; Yet Thomas, your husband, to help is not nigh.

And then is most vividly brought to my view _That_ Coroner's Inquest so trying to you; The bearing your loved one away to the grave, Though you, quite dejected, are still on the wave.

Oh, then I can paint, it is true but in part, The anguish and grief of your warm loving heart, Expecting at lodgings your partner to see, As anxious as any fond mother can be.

Your painful suspense as day pa.s.sed after day, And trifle of money was melting away; The pleasure which beamed in your calm, patient face, When _that_ friend was able your sojourn to trace.

Your journey so cold and so cheerless at last, Till you and the two tender children were cast On kindness of strangers in reaching our town, While Winter put on his most terrible frown.

My own keen emotions I need not express When you first came here and I saw your distress.

Once more I would hail you as Mother most brave, Who crossed in mid-winter Atlantic's broad wave.