There is a recitation written by Mr. Richard H. Douglass, which is often given by him with success, entitled “Christmas Day in the Beer-house.” In its opening lines it somewhat resembles Mr. Sims’s “Christmas Day in the Workhouse,” but it does not follow that poem sufficiently to be styled a parody, and is, moreover, rather coarse in its style. Every one remembers “The Manual for Young Reciters,” which appeared in _Punch_ in 1887, and has since been issued in a small volume, entitled “Burglar Bill,” by J. Anstey, (London, Bradbury, Agnew & Co.) Two of the papers contained in this are imitations of Mr. Sims; _Burglar Bill_ is one, but a far more amusing specimen is _A Coster’s Conversion_. A poor harmless costermonger relates how he “Give a copper a doin’, As ’ad said my barrer was blockin’ the way, And they took me afore a beak, And he see what I wanted was change o’ hair, So he sent me to quod fur a week.” Whilst he is away in durance vile some well meaning, but mistaken, philanthropist converts his wife to Æstheticism, and on his return to his humble roof, he is much amazed, and by no means pleased, with the alterations made in his home:―― “I’ll not ’ave none of it, Betsy,” I sez――and I chucked the lot of it out, And I did’nt recover my self-respeck till I see it go up the spout! For we all on us has our feelings, Sir, and my pride it was cruel ’urt, To think as a swell could ha’ gone so fur as to rob a poor man of his dirt! But I never ’anker for Culcher now, nor henvy no harristocrats, For I’m cured fur life of the longing I ’ad fur a roomful of brick-a-bats. Of spadgers and pea-green paint you’ll find in the attic ’ardly a trace, And, when me and my old woman ’as words――there’s allus plenty o’ space! * * * * * This appeared originally in _Punch_, May 14, 1887. Mr. Sims has recently published (London, Chatto and Windus) _The Dagonet Reciter_, which contains most of the poems which have been referred to in this Collection, “Ostler Joe,” “The Life-boat,” “Keeping Christmas” etc., as well as a selection of his humorous prose writings. Before leaving this author, there remains a parody of his to be quoted, it should have appeared in Volume IV., which contained other parodies of “The Lost Chord.” THE LOST CORD. Seated one day in a carriage, I was frightened and ill at ease, For a fellow, behaving wildly, Was up to his drunken sprees. I knew not if he was playing, Or what I was doing then, But I pulled the cord like winking, While the lunatic shrieked “Amen.” It rattled against the ceiling As I clasped it in my palm, Then it broke and fell on the cushion, Where it lay in a holy calm. It startled the next compartment, On the lunatic’s nerves it jarred; It reached the length of the carriage, But it never reached the guard.