I turned ter Poll to wake ’er, when I see a awful glare Cornin’ in the bedroom winder, an’ the ’eat was ’ard to bear, The ’ouse was all ablaze, an’ we’d dropped out ter the ground ’Bout ten minits, when it fell in scatt’rin fire all around. Jumpin’ out Jack broke ’is leg bad, and our kiddy’s life he’d saved; ’E ’ad took ’er out in safety, an’ ’ere on me ’earts engraved, The deed o’ that there dawg, who come back through fire to us, An’ can ye wonder now, sir, that last night I made a fuss? ’E braved a burnin’ staircase, an’ ’ed stayed till we had dropped, An’, when my Poll, soon after, straight away to glory popped, She said, “Jim, keep our Jack safe,” an’ I’ve allus’ kep’ me vow, An’ you’ll let me off, sir, won’t you, so that I don’t break it now; The kid ’as gone to her mother, wi’ the angels up above, An’ if I should lose old Jack, why, I’d nothin’ ave ter love, Ah! don’t be ’ard, sir, this time――don’t break a poor cove’s ’eart; What, sir? I’m free! God bless yer! me dawg an’ me won’t part! AGLAUS. ―――― SALLY. What’s the matter down the alley Don’t yer know? I thought as ’ow Every one ’ad ’eard of Sally―― Killed last week in a drunkin row. Come aside, then, out of the mob, sir. A drink? I don’t mind if I do. I don’t like talkin’ of this job, sir; But any ’ow I’ll tell it you. Well, I think ’twas last December―― ’Bout as near as I can tell―― Joe Hale, then a stiddy member, Lost ’is wife an’ kid as well. That upset ’im altogether, Drove ’im nearly off ’is head; Whether it was that, or whether It was not, it’s what was said. Fightin’ every night an’ boozin’, Doin’ weeks an’ months in quod, Sellin’ all ’is sticks, an’ losin’ All he ’ad, when on the cod; An’ he’d leave pore little Sally (Sally was ’is daughter, sir) For days a starvin’ in the alley, Givin’ not a thought to ’er. This night Joe was fightin’ madly In a gang of drunkin’ brutes, Who, if things was goin’ badly, ’Ud down a man an’ use their boots; An’ little Sally, screamin’ “Murder!” With a face just like a sheet, Rushed among the fightin’ herd, sir, An’ fell down beneath their feet. Trampled on, an’ crush’d, an’ moanin’, They carried Sal out of the fight; She lay a little while a groanin’, An’ then she died the selfsame night. An’ now they’re goin’ to bury Sally―― An’ Joe? Ah, Joe, too, ended bad, For when he seed ’er dead in the alley, He went stark, starin’ ravin’ mad. PHIL. LASCELLES. The pathetic ballads of Mr. Sims are frequently chosen for recitation, and good parodies of them are much sought after, as a relief to the overwrought feelings of the auditors.