To the Squire daily; principles of honour Were all unknown to him: all means allowable Which served his ends. He gained a great ascendance Over the Squire, and ere four years were passed, He was appointed bailiff. “The old bailiff Was sent adrift, and the kind, worthy, Squire, His thirty years’ employer, turned against him! It was a villain’s act, first, to traduce, And then supplant—it was a Judas-trick! The gardener John, who wooed the bailiff’s daughter, Had married her before this plotter’s work Was come to light; and they, poor, simple folk, Invited him among their wedding-company, And he, with his black plots hatching within him, Came, full of smiles, and ate and drank with them; The double-faced villain! The old bailiff Was turned adrift, as I have said already, And his dismissal looked like a disgrace, Although the Squire brought not a charge against him, Except that he was old, and younger men Could better carry out his modern plans! And modern plans, God knows, they had enough! Old tenants were removed; and soon a notice Came to the gardener, John, that he must quit; Must quit the little spot he loved so well, And where the poor, heart-broken bailiff, found A home in his distress. It mattered not Their likings or convenience, go they must; The Squire was laying out his place afresh— Or the new bailiff, rather; and John’s garden Was wanted for the fine new pleasure-grounds! “The man of work—the man who toils to live, Must still be up and doing; ’tis his privilege That he has little time to wring his hands, And hang his head because his fate is cruel. John was a man of action, so, to London Came he, and, ere a twelvemonth had gone round, Had taken service as a city fireman. It was an arduous life; a different life To that of gardening, of rearing pinks, Budding the dainty rose, and giving heed To the unclosing of the tulip’s leaf. But he was one of those who fear not hardship; And when he saw his little fortunes wrecked By the smooth villain whom he had befriended, He left his native place with wife and children, Mostly because it galled his soul to meet The man who had so much abused his goodness, And, in the wide and busy world of London, Where, as ’tis said, is room for every man, He came to try his luck. He was strong-limbed, Active and agile as a mountain goat, Fearless of danger, hardy, brave, and full Of pity as is every noble nature. “He was the boldest of the London firemen. Clothed in his iron mail like an old warrior,