Punch (103.1892)

November 5, 1892.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

213

THE TROUBLES OF STALKING!!

Irate Gillie {on discovering in the distance, for the third time that morning, a "Brute of a
Man" moving about in his favourite bit of "Forest"). " Oh ! deil take the People ! Come
aw a ,' Mustek Brown, Sir; it's just Peekadilly !!!"

AN AUTUMN AFTERNOON

AT NAZARETH HOUSE.

0 wealthy and world-weary triflers, 0 idle

and opulent folk,
For whom time is a foe to be slain, and life's

self but a bore or a joke.
Take yourselves, and your hearts, and your

purses to Nazareth House and behold
The brave service of well-bestowed time, the

brave uses of well-applied gold!

Where is Nazareth House, then, and what ?
"lis in Hammersmith, Madam, a place

That _ you probably seldom illume with the
light of your beautiful face.

But what f That's a far larger question, full
answer to which would take time.

Far better go see for yourself. If there's
aught of the moral sublime

In these gold-grubbing days, 'tis in scenes
where love-service unbought and un-
paid—

A vastly unbusiness-like thing in the eyes of

the vassals of Trade !—
Is devoted in silence unseen to the outcast,

the old, and the poor.
Five hundred such waifs are here housed,

and they yearn to find ref uge for more !
That's the pith of the matter, dear Madam!

And as for the rest, I've returned
From a visit, and fancy your heart, like my

own, would have lightened and burned !
Had you walked through the wards, as I

walked, with a Sister as frank and

unfeigned

As sweet Charity's servant should be. There
was nothing o'er piously strained

In this unrigid Refuge for helplessness.

Cheeriness, confidence, mirth
Seemed to reign in these child-crowded

rooms—in these wards where the aged,

whose birth
Hated well-nigh a century back, whether

sewing, or smoking, or prone _
On the pallet of sickness, all smiled, and no

soul seemed forlorn or alone.
How they sang, those close clustering tod-
dlers, their curly heads tier above tier,
With never a trace of restraint, and unknow-
ing the shadow of fear !
Here timidity checks not the young, and here

weariness haunts not the old.
There is laughter on age-shrivelled lips, and

the eyes of mere babies are bold
With the confidence born but of love. Even

imbeciles, helpless and blind,
Shut out at each sense from full life, yet can

feel unseen tendance is kind,
And sit silently placid, or burst into song of

a heart-searching sort—
Muffled speech from unplumbed spirit-depths,

yet inspired by the impulse of sport.
Have a chat, my dear Madam—shrink not,

they are women ! — with age-wrinkled

dames,

Who are busily bed-quilting here, while the
Autumn sun ruddily flames

On the walls from the liberal windows. Be-
stow but a smile and a jest,

They'll respond with a jest and a smile, for
there's life in each age-burdened breast,

And confidence, comfort, and cheer. Here
again clustered close round the fire

Are a number of grizzle-lock'd men, every
one is a true "hoary sire,"

Bowed, time-beaten, grey, yet alert and

responsive to kindness of speech ;
And see how old eyes can light up if you

promise a pipe-charge a-piece.
For the comforting weed Kingslet eulogised

is not taboo in this place,
Where the whiff aromatic brings not cold

reproval to Charity's face.
Ah! the tale is o'erlong for full telling ; but

never a bright afternoon
In London's chill leaf-strewn October was

better bestowed. 'Tis a boon
To be able to speak on behalf of Samaritan

kindness so schemed,
In a way in which lovers of man, not of

mummeries, ever have dreamed.
On such wise, wide, benevolent lines, with

no bondage of class or of creed.
But the helpless Five Hundred still swell,

and the Sisterhood feel sorest need
Of enlarging their borders and branches.

The children especially swarm,
And for every poor, pale, helpless mite, who

can here find a pallet and form,
Home, food, clothing, schooling, life-settle-
ment, love, there are hundreds for whom
And their piteous appeal the response must

unwillingly come, " No more room ! ",
Room, not in their hearts but their wards is

this unselfish Sisterhood's lack ;
There you, my dear Madam, can help, if your

purse-strings a little you '11 slack.
The Home for Poor Age, Helpless Childhood,

Incurable Sickness, depends
Not on fees or on wealthy endowments, but

alms and free service of friends.
Gifts, not only of money, but garments and

furniture, beds, tables, chairs,
The Nazareth ladies will welcome—Come !

Is there a Christian who cares
For Cod's poor and the Christ-welcomed

children, who will not respond in some way
To the modest appeal of these ladies, who care

for the Waif and the Stray ?

TO MANKIND IN GENERAL—

THEREFORE TO MR. GLADSTONE IX PARTICULAR.

{See Speech by Miss Cozens at Meeting of Woman's
Emancipation Union at Birmingham, Oct. 27.)

The time is come, beware of "us,"
There 's thunder in the air;

Your future's in the care of " us ;''
Beware of " us"—beware i

We'll cease to coax and " Cozen " you

By fascinating smiles,
And gaily now impose on you

By dynamitic wiles.