_Lays of Modern Oxford_ (Chapman and Hall, 1874.) EXCELSIOR. The price of meat was rising fast, As to his daily duty passed A toiler who, with bitter laugh, Had read upon his _Telegraph_, Excelsior! His brow was sad; because it bore A costlier hat than e'er before: His feet were sadder; he'd to pay For boots that quickly wore away, Excelsior! In oyster shops he saw the shells Wherein the luscious bivalve dwells, But had no chance of shelling out, And murmured, as he dreamt of stout, Excelsior! "Try this rump-steak!" the butcher said; "At Tillyfour the ox was bred; Juicy it is, M'Combie's pride, And only one-and-six." He sighed-- Excelsior! "Stay!" cried a maiden of the bar, "A shilling buys a good cigar-- Ten more some icy dry champagne." He shook his head and cried again, Excelsior! "Take comfort," said a Hebrew mild; "I love to help a Christian child. My moderate terms are cent. per cent. 'Twas sixty once," he thought, and went-- Excelsior! At dead of night that wayward youth, So saddened by the eternal truth, Was by a pious peeler found, Who kindly raised him from the ground, Excelsior! He uttered words that can't be told, Said eating game was eating gold, Showered maledictions on the souls Of those who raise the price of coals-- Excelsior! When morning shone upon the town, He had to pay five shillings down, And blessed the rulers of the skies The price of Justice does not rise, Excelsior! MORTIMER COLLINS. _The London Magazine_, February, 1876. * * * * * "CLEAN YOUR DOOR-STEP, MARM?" The shades of night were some time past, And snow had fallen thick and fast; A youth, who broom and shovel bore, Was heard to call outside the door, "Clean your doorstep, Marm?" In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright, The singing kettle brightly shone-- Again, again, his well-known tone-- "Clean your doorstep, Marm?" His brow was sad--his chilly nose, Like fiery coals, glow'd in the snows, And, as the kitchen bell he rang, In accents clear he loudly sang, "Clean your doorstep, Marm?" "Oh, stay," the girl said, "while I see, As I takes up the toast and tea; And if your charge is not too high"-- "A tanner's all," the poor boy's cry, "To clean your doorstep, Marm?" He set to work with all his might, But suddenly went out of sight;-- Half-buried in the coals was found The youth who sang that piteous sound, "Clean your doorstep, Marm?"