A SIMPLE LAY. _By the Archbishop of Canterbury._ ――――A Rural Dean That with the Church content, Brooked not in any shape or form The schism of Dissent. He met an aged cottager, He was eighty-two, he said, His hair――as will to you occur―― Had some time left his head. He had a dazed and rustic air, In kettle-smock was clad; The Dean a minute had to spare, So spoke to this gran’-dad: “Of sons and daughters cottager, How many may you be?” “I have had seven, they’re all in heaven, Not one is left to me!” “And what were they?” the Dean asked then; “What were they?” echoed he; “Why, three was Plymouth Bretheren, And two turned Methodee. “And two was Baptistes, I think, The heldest an ’is brother; The heldest, well, he tookt to drink, An’ used to whack ’is mother. “But in the hend he did reform, An’ gived up bein’ cranky; He was converted in a storm By Moody an’ that Sankey!” “That two were Methodists, you said, And Plymouth Brethren three, And Baptists two, then why say you That seven in heaven there be?” Then did that cottager reply, “Seven boys and gals had we, And now they’re dead, as I’ve a-said, In heaven I hopes they be.” “You’re very green!” observed the Dean, “And won’t be long alive; Your children seven are not in heaven, Nor three, nor four, nor five! “For all of them, by what you say, Dissenters I must call; And so you make a great mistake. There’s none in heaven at all!” “Their graves are green, they may be seen,” The cottager replied. “Ah, yes, I see, they are on the Unconsecrated side.” “The first that went was Mary Jane,” The cottager did say; “A rare good gal, too, in the main, ’Twere fine to yeer ’er pray! “So in the ground, sir, she was laid, Then Bill the fever caught; A rare good workman with ’is spade, And good in deed an’ thought! “It seemed a despard cruel blow!”―― And here the old man sighed―― “For ’fore the ground was white with snow, God help us! all ’ad died!” “How many were you?” said the Dean, “I think you mentioned seven?” Then said the cottager, serene, “Yes, we have seven in heaven!” “They were dissenters!” cried the Dean, “They cannot be in heaven!” ’Twas throwing words away, for still The cottager would have his will, “And said “We’ve seven in heaven!” From _Finis_, 1877. ―――― THE BALLAD OF THE ’BUS. ――――A simple ’Bus, Belonging to a London “Co,” That gets its ten per cent. with ease, ――Why should it crowd us so? I hailed a raucous little “Cad,”―― “There’s room for one!” he cried; But when I stood upon the step, The facts his word belied. He bore a bag to give you change; His voice was very loud. The simpleton he overcharged, And timid ladies cowed.