Add files from ibiblio as of 2025-03-03 06:55:14HEADmain

1 files changed, 0 insertions, 3003 deletions

diff --git a/41468.txt b/41468.txt
deleted file mode 100644
index 5f7cbde..0000000
--- a/41468.txt
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1,3003 +0,0 @@
-                      THE WIDOW IN THE BYE STREET
-
-
-
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost
-no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
-under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
-eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license.
-
-
-
-Title: The Widow in the Bye Street
-Author: John Masefield
-Release Date: November 23, 2012 [EBook #41468]
-Language: English
-Character set encoding: US-ASCII
-
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIDOW IN THE BYE STREET
-***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Al Haines.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: Cover]
-
-
-
-
-                            THE WIDOW IN THE
-                               BYE STREET
-
-
-                                   BY
-                             JOHN MASEFIELD
-
-
-
-                                 LONDON
-                        SIDGWICK & JACKSON LTD.
-                         3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHI
-                                 MCMXII
-
-
-
-
-        _Entered at the Library of Congress, Washington, U.S.A._
-                         _All rights reserved_
-
-
-
-                           _Second Thousand_
-
-
-
-
-                                   TO
-                                MY WIFE
-
-
-
-
-                                   I
-
-
-Down Bye Street, in a little Shropshire town,
-There lived a widow with her only son:
-She had no wealth nor title to renown,
-Nor any joyous hours, never one.
-She rose from ragged mattress before sun
-And stitched all day until her eyes were red,
-And had to stitch, because her man was dead.
-
-Sometimes she fell asleep, she stitched so hard,
-Letting the linen fall upon the floor;
-And hungry cats would steal in from the yard,
-And mangy chickens pecked about the door
-Craning their necks so ragged and so sore
-To search the room for bread-crumbs, or for mouse,
-But they got nothing in the widow's house.
-
-Mostly she made her bread by hemming shrouds
-For one rich undertaker in the High Street,
-Who used to pray that folks might die in crowds
-And that their friends might pay to let them lie sweet;
-And when one died the widow in the Bye Street
-Stitched night and day to give the worm his dole.
-The dead were better dressed than that poor soul.
-
-Her little son was all her life's delight,
-For in his little features she could find
-A glimpse of that dead husband out of sight,
-Where out of sight is never out of mind.
-And so she stitched till she was nearly blind,
-Or till the tallow candle end was done,
-To get a living for her little son.
-
-Her love for him being such she would not rest,
-It was a want which ate her out and in,
-Another hunger in her withered breast
-Pressing her woman's bones against the skin.
-To make him plump she starved her body thin.
-And he, he ate the food, and never knew,
-He laughed and played as little children do.
-
-When there was little sickness in the place
-She took what God would send, and what God sent
-Never brought any colour to her face
-Nor life into her footsteps when she went
-Going, she trembled always withered and bent
-For all went to her son, always the same,
-He was first served whatever blessing came.
-
-Sometimes she wandered out to gather sticks,
-For it was bitter cold there when it snowed.
-And she stole hay out of the farmer's ricks
-For bands to wrap her feet in while she sewed,
-And when her feet were warm and the grate glowed
-She hugged her little son, her heart's desire,
-With 'Jimmy, ain't it snug beside the fire?'
-
-So years went on till Jimmy was a lad
-And went to work as poor lads have to do,
-And then the widow's loving heart was glad
-To know that all the pains she had gone through
-And all the years of putting on the screw,
-Down to the sharpest turn a mortal can,
-Had borne their fruit, and made her child a man.
-
-He got a job at working on the line
-Tipping the earth down, trolly after truck,
-From daylight till the evening, wet or fine,
-With arms all red from wallowing in the muck,
-And spitting, as the trolly tipped, for luck,
-And singing 'Binger' as he swung the pick
-Because the red blood ran in him so quick.
-
-So there was bacon then, at night, for supper
-In Bye Street there, where he and mother stay;
-And boots they had, not leaky in the upper,
-And room rent ready on the settling day;
-And beer for poor old mother, worn and grey,
-And fire in frost; and in the widow's eyes
-It seemed the Lord had made earth paradise.
-
-And there they sat of evenings after dark
-Singing their song of 'Binger,' he and she,
-Her poor old cackle made the mongrels bark
-And 'You sing Binger, mother,' carols he;
-'By crimes, but that's a good song, that her be':
-And then they slept there in the room they shared,
-And all the time fate had his end prepared.
-
-One thing alone made life not perfect sweet:
-The mother's daily fear of what would come
-When woman and her lovely boy should meet,
-When the new wife would break up the old home.
-Fear of that unborn evil struck her dumb,
-And when her darling and a woman met,
-She shook and prayed, 'Not her, O God; not yet.'
-
-'Not yet, dear God, my Jimmy go from me.'
-Then she would subtly question with her son.
-'Not very handsome, I don't think her be?'
-'God help the man who marries such an one.'
-Her red eyes peered to spy the mischief done.
-She took great care to keep the girls away,
-And all her trouble made him easier prey.
-
-There was a woman out at Plaister's End,
-Light of her body, fifty to the pound,
-A copper coin for any man to spend,
-Lovely to look on when the wits were drowned.
-Her husband's skeleton was never found,
-It lay among the rocks at Glydyr Mor
-Where he drank poison finding her a whore.
-
-She was not native there, for she belonged
-Out Milford way, or Swansea; no one knew.
-She had the piteous look of someone wronged,
-'Anna,' her name, a widow, last of Triw.
-She had lived at Plaister's End a year or two;
-At Callow's cottage, renting half an acre;
-She was a hen-wife and a perfume-maker.
-
-Secret she was; she lived in reputation;
-But secret unseen threads went floating out:
-Her smile, her voice, her face, were all temptation,
-All subtle flies to trouble man the trout;
-Man to entice, entrap, entangle, flout...
-To take and spoil, and then to cast aside:
-Gain without giving was the craft she plied.
-
-And she complained, poor lonely widowed soul,
-How no one cared, and men were rutters all;
-While true love is an ever-burning goal
-Burning the brighter as the shadows fall.
-And all love's dogs went hunting at the call,
-Married or not she took them by the brain,
-Sucked at their hearts and tossed them back again.
-
-Like the straw fires lit on Saint John's Eve,
-She burned and dwindled in her fickle heart;
-For if she wept when Harry took his leave,
-Her tears were lures to beckon Bob to start.
-And if, while loving Bob, a tinker's cart
-Came by, she opened window with a smile
-And gave the tinker hints to wait a while.
-
-She passed for pure; but, years before, in Wales,
-Living at Mountain Ash with different men,
-Her less discretion had inspired tales
-Of certain things she did, and how, and when.
-Those seven years of youth; we are frantic then.
-She had been frantic in her years of youth,
-The tales were not more evil than the truth.
-
-She had two children as the fruits of trade
-Though she drank bitter herbs to kill the curse,
-Both of them sons, and one she overlaid,
-The other one the parish had to nurse.
-Now she grew plump with money in her purse,
-Passing for pure a hundred miles, I guess,
-From where her little son wore workhouse dress.
-
-There with the Union boys he came and went,
-A parish bastard fed on bread and tea,
-Wearing a bright tin badge in furthest Gwent,
-And no one knowing who his folk could be.
-His mother never knew his new name: she,--
-She touched the lust of those who served her turn,
-And chief among her men was Shepherd Ern.
-
-A moody, treacherous man of bawdy mind,
-Married to that mild girl from Ercall Hill,
-Whose gentle goodness made him more inclined
-To hotter sauces sharper on the bill.
-The new lust gives the lecher the new thrill,
-The new wine scratches as it slips the throat,
-The new flag is so bright by the old boat.
-
-Ern was her man to buy her bread and meat,
-Half of his weekly wage was hers to spend,
-She used to mock 'How is your wife, my sweet?'
-Or wail, 'O, Ernie, how is this to end?'
-Or coo, 'My Ernie is without a friend,
-She cannot understand my precious life,'
-And Ernie would go home and beat his wife.
-
-So the four souls are ranged, the chess-board set,
-The dark, invisible hand of secret Fate
-Brought it to come to being that they met
-After so many years of lying in wait.
-While we least think it he prepares his Mate.
-Mate, and the King's pawn played, it never ceases
-Though all the earth is dust of taken pieces.
-
-
-
-
-                                   II
-
-
-October Fair-time is the time for fun,
-For all the street is hurdled into rows
-Of pens of heifers blinking at the sun,
-And Lemster sheep which pant and seem to doze,
-And stalls of hardbake and galanty shows,
-And cheapjacks smashing crocks, and trumpets blowing,
-And the loud organ of the horses going.
-
-There you can buy blue ribbons for your girl
-Or take her in a swing-boat tossing high,
-Or hold her fast when all the horses whirl
-Round to the steam pipe whanging at the sky,
-Or stand her cockshies at the cocoa-shy,
-Or buy her brooches with her name in red,
-Or Queen Victoria done in gingerbread.
-
-Then there are rifle shots at tossing balls,
-'And if you hit you get a good cigar.'
-And strength-whackers for lads to lamm with mauls,
-And Cheshire cheeses on a greasy spar.
-The country folk flock in from near and far,
-Women and men, like blow-flies to the roast,
-All love the fair; but Anna loved it most.
-
-Anna was all agog to see the fair;
-She made Ern promise to be there to meet her,
-To arm her round to all the pleasures there,
-And buy her ribbons for her neck, and treat her,
-So that no woman at the fair should beat her
-In having pleasure at a man's expense.
-She planned to meet him at the chapel fence.
-
-So Ernie went; and Jimmy took his mother,
-Dressed in her finest with a Monmouth shawl,
-And there was such a crowd she thought she'd smother,
-And O, she loved a pep'mint above all.
-Clash go the crockeries where the cheapjacks bawl,
-Baa go the sheep, thud goes the waxwork's drum,
-And Ernie cursed for Anna hadn't come.
-
-He hunted for her up and down the place,
-Raging and snapping like a working brew.
-'If you're with someone else I'll smash his face,
-And when I've done for him I'll go for you.'
-He bought no fairings as he'd vowed to do
-For his poor little children back at home
-Stuck at the glass 'to see till father come.'
-
-Not finding her, he went into an inn,
-Busy with ringing till and scratching matches.
-Where thirsty drovers mingled stout with gin
-And three or four Welsh herds were singing catches.
-The swing-doors clattered, letting in in snatches
-The noises of the fair, now low, now loud.
-Ern called for beer and glowered at the crowd.
-
-While he was glowering at his drinking there
-In came the gipsy Bessie, hawking toys;
-A bold-eyed strapping harlot with black hair,
-One of the tribe which camped at Shepherd's Bois.
-She lured him out of inn into the noise
-Of the steam-organ where the horses spun,
-And so the end of all things was begun.
-
-Newness in lust, always the old in love.
-'Put up your toys,' he said, 'and come along,
-We'll have a turn of swing-boats up above,
-And see the murder when they strike the gong.'
-'Don't 'ee,' she giggled.  'My, but ain't you strong.
-And where's your proper girl?  You don't know me.'
-'I do.'  'You don't.'  'Why, then, I will,' said he.
-
-Anna was late because the cart which drove her
-Called for her late (the horse had broke a trace),
-She was all dressed and scented for her lover,
-Her bright blue blouse had imitation lace,
-The paint was red as roses on her face,
-She hummed a song, because she thought to see
-How envious all the other girls would be.
-
-When she arrived and found her Ernie gone,
-Her bitter heart thought, 'This is how it is.
-Keeping me waiting while the sports are on:
-Promising faithful, too, and then to miss.
-O, Ernie, won't I give it you for this.'
-And looking up she saw a couple cling,
-Ern with his arm round Bessie in the swing.
-
-Ern caught her eye and spat, and cut her dead,
-Bessie laughed hardly, in the gipsy way.
-Anna, though blind with fury, tossed her head,
-Biting her lips until the red was grey,
-For bitter moments given, bitter pay,
-The time for payment comes, early or late,
-No earthly debtor but accounts to Fate.
-
-She turned aside, telling with bitter oaths
-What Ern should suffer if he turned agen,
-And there was Jimmy stripping off his clothes
-Within a little ring of farming men.
-'Now, Jimmy, put the old tup into pen.'
-His mother, watching, thought her heart would curdle,
-To see Jim drag the old ram to the hurdle.
-
-Then the ram butted and the game began,
-Till Jimmy's muscles cracked and the ram grunted.
-The good old wrestling game of Ram and Man,
-At which none knows the hunter from the hunted.
-'Come and see Jimmy have his belly bunted.'
-'Good tup.  Good Jim.  Good Jimmy.  Sick him, Rover,
-By dang, but Jimmy's got him fairly over.'
-
-Then there was clap of hands and Jimmy grinned
-And took five silver shillings from his backers,
-And said th'old tup had put him out of wind
-Or else he'd take all comers at the Whackers.
-And some made rude remarks of rams and knackers,
-And mother shook to get her son alone,
-So's to be sure he hadn't broke a bone.
-
-None but the lucky man deserves the fair,
-For lucky men have money and success,
-Things that a whore is very glad to share,
-Or dip, at least, a finger in the mess.
-Anne, with her raddled cheeks and Sunday dress,
-Smiled upon Jimmy, seeing him succeed,
-As though to say, 'You are a man, indeed.'
-
-All the great things of life are swiftly done,
-Creation, death, and love the double gate.
-However much we dawdle in the sun
-We have to hurry at the touch of Fate;
-When Life knocks at the door no one can wait,
-When Death makes his arrest we have to go.
-And so with love, and Jimmy found it so.
-
-Love, the sharp spear, went pricking to the bone,
-In that one look, desire and bitter aching,
-Longing to have that woman all alone
-For her dear beauty's sake all else forsaking;
-And sudden agony that set him shaking
-Lest she, whose beauty made his heart's blood cruddle,
-Should be another man's to kiss and cuddle.
-
-She was beside him when he left the ring,
-Her soft dress brushed against him as he passed her;
-He thought her penny scent a sweeter thing
-Than precious ointment out of alabaster;
-Love, the mild servant, makes a drunken master.
-She smiled, half sadly, out of thoughtful eyes,
-And all the strong young man was easy prize.
-
-She spoke, to take him, seeing him a sheep,
-'How beautiful you wrastled with the ram,
-It made me all go tremble just to peep,
-I am that fond of wrastling, that I am.
-Why, here's your mother, too.  Good-evening, ma'am.
-I was just telling Jim how well he done,
-How proud you must be of so fine a son.'
-
-Old mother blinked, while Jimmy hardly knew
-Whether he knew the woman there or not;
-But well he knew, if not, he wanted to,
-Joy of her beauty ran in him so hot,
-Old trembling mother by him was forgot,
-While Anna searched the mother's face, to know
-Whether she took her for a whore or no.
-
-The woman's maxim, 'Win the woman first,'
-Made her be gracious to the withered thing.
-'This being in crowds do give one such a thirst,
-I wonder if they've tea going at "The King"?
-My throat's that dry my very tongue do cling,
-Perhaps you'd take my arm, we'd wander up
-(If you'd agree) and try and get a cup.
-
-Come, ma'am, a cup of tea would do you good;
-There's nothing like a nice hot cup of tea
-After the crowd and all the time you've stood;
-And "The King's" strict, it isn't like "The Key,"
-Now, take my arm, my dear, and lean on me.'
-And Jimmy's mother, being nearly blind,
-Took Anna's arm, and only thought her kind.
-
-So off they set, with Anna talking to her,
-How nice the tea would be after the crowd,
-And mother thinking half the time she knew her,
-And Jimmy's heart's blood ticking quick and loud,
-And Death beside him knitting at his shroud,
-And all the High Street babbling with the fair,
-And white October clouds in the blue air.
-
-So tea was made, and down they sat to drink;
-O the pale beauty sitting at the board!
-There is more death in women than we think,
-There is much danger in the soul adored,
-The white hands bring the poison and the cord;
-Death has a lodge in lips as red as cherries,
-Death has a mansion in the yew-tree berries.
-
-They sat there talking after tea was done,
-And Jimmy blushed at Anna's sparkling looks,
-And Anna flattered mother on her son,
-Catching both fishes on her subtle hooks.
-With twilight, tea and talk in ingle-nooks,
-And music coming up from the dim street,
-Mother had never known a fair so sweet.
-
-Now cow-bells clink, for milking-time is come,
-The drovers stack the hurdles into carts,
-New masters drive the straying cattle home,
-Many a young calf from his mother parts,
-Hogs straggle back to sty by fits and starts;
-The farmers take a last glass at the inns,
-And now the frolic of the fair begins.
-
-All of the side shows of the fair are lighted,
-Flares and bright lights, and brassy cymbals clanging,
-'Beginning now' and 'Everyone's invited,'
-Shatter the pauses of the organ's whanging,
-The Oldest Show on Earth and the Last Hanging,
-'The Murder in the Red Barn,' with real blood,
-The rifles crack, the Sally shy-sticks thud.
-
-Anna walked slowly homewards with her prey,
-Holding old tottering mother's weight upon her,
-And pouring in sweet poison on the way
-Of 'Such a pleasure, ma'am, and such an honour,'
-And 'One's so safe with such a son to con her
-Through all the noises and through all the press,
-Boys daredn't squirt tormenters on her dress.'
-
-At mother's door they stop to say 'Good-night.'
-And mother must go in to set the table.
-Anna pretended that she felt a fright
-To go alone through all the merry babel:
-'My friends are waiting at "The Cain and Abel,"
-Just down the other side of Market Square,
-It'd be a mercy if you'd set me there.'
-
-So Jimmy came, while mother went inside;
-Anna has got her victim in her clutch.
-Jimmy, all blushing, glad to be her guide,
-Thrilled by her scent, and trembling at her touch.
-She was all white and dark, and said not much;
-She sighed, to hint that pleasure's grave was dug,
-And smiled within to see him such a mug.
-
-They passed the doctor's house among the trees,
-She sighed so deep that Jimmy asked her why.
-'I'm too unhappy upon nights like these,
-When everyone has happiness but I!'
-'Then, aren't you happy?'  She appeared to cry,
-Blinked with her eyes, and turned away her head:
-'Not much; but some men understand,' she said.
-
-Her voice caught lightly on a broken note,
-Jimmy half-dared but dared not touch her hand,
-Yet all his blood went pumping in his throat
-Beside the beauty he could understand,
-And Death stopped knitting at the muffling band.
-'The shroud is done,' he muttered, 'toe to chin.'
-He snapped the ends, and tucked his needles in.
-
-Jimmy, half stammering, choked, 'Has any man----'
-He stopped, she shook her head to answer 'No.'
-'Then tell me.'  'No.  P'raps some day, if I can.
-It hurts to talk of some things ever so.
-But you're so different.  There, come, we must go
-None but unhappy women know how good
-It is to meet a soul who's understood.'
-
-'No.  Wait a moment.  May I call you Anna?'
-'Perhaps.  There must be nearness 'twixt us two.'
-Love in her face hung out his bloody banner,
-And all love's clanging trumpets shocked and blew.
-'When we got up to-day we never knew.'
-'I'm sure I didn't think, nor you did.'  'Never.'
-'And now this friendship's come to us for ever.'
-
-'Now, Anna, take my arm, dear.'  'Not to-night,
-That must come later when we know our minds,
-We must agree to keep this evening white,
-We'll eat the fruit to-night and save the rinds.'
-And all the folk whose shadows darked the blinds,
-And all the dancers whirling in the fair,
-Were wretched worms to Jim and Anna there.
-
-'How wonderful life is,' said Anna, lowly.
-'But it begins again with you for friend.'
-In the dim lamplight Jimmy thought her holy,
-A lovely fragile thing for him to tend,
-Grace beyond measure, beauty without end.
-'Anna,' he said; 'Good-night.  This is the door.
-I never knew what people meant before.'
-
-'Good-night, my friend.  Good-bye.'  'But, O my sweet,
-The night's quite early yet, don't say good-bye,
-Come just another short turn down the street,
-The whole life's bubbling up for you and I.
-Somehow I feel to-morrow we may die.
-Come just as far as to the blacksmith's light.'
-But 'No' said Anna; 'Not to-night.  Good-night.'
-
-All the tides triumph when the white moon fills.
-Down in the race the toppling waters shout,
-The breakers shake the bases of the hills,
-There is a thundering where the streams go out,
-And the wise shipman puts his ship about
-Seeing the gathering of those waters wan,
-But what when love makes high tide in a man?
-
-Jimmy walked home with all his mind on fire,
-One lovely face for ever set in flame.
-He shivered as he went, like tautened wire,
-Surge after surge of shuddering in him came
-And then swept out repeating one sweet name,
-'Anna, O Anna,' to the evening star.
-Anna was sipping whiskey in the bar.
-
-So back to home and mother Jimmy wandered,
-Thinking of Plaister's End and Anna's lips.
-He ate no supper worth the name, but pondered
-On Plaister's End hedge, scarlet with ripe hips,
-And of the lovely moon there in eclipse,
-And how she must be shining in the house
-Behind the hedge of those old dog-rose boughs.
-
-Old mother cleared away.  The clock struck eight.
-'Why, boy, you've left your bacon, lawks a me,
-So that's what comes of having tea so late,
-Another time you'll go without your tea.
-Your father liked his cup, too, didn't he,
-Always "another cup" he used to say,
-He never went without on any day.
-
-How nice the lady was and how she talked,
-I've never had a nicer fair, not ever.'
-'She said she'd like to see us if we walked
-To Plaister's End, beyond by Watersever.
-Nice-looking woman, too, and that, and clever;
-We might go round one evening, p'raps, we two;
-Or I might go, if it's too far for you.'
-
-'No,' said the mother, 'we're not folk for that;
-Meet at the fair and that, and there an end.
-Rake out the fire and put out the cat,
-These fairs are sinful, tempting folk to spend.
-Of course she spoke polite and like a friend;
-Of course she had to do, and so I let her,
-But now it's done and past, so I forget her.'
-
-'I don't see why forget her.  Why forget her?
-She treat us kind.  She weren't like everyone.
-I never saw a woman I liked better,
-And he's not easy pleased, my father's son.
-So I'll go round some night when work is done.'
-'Now, Jim, my dear, trust mother, there's a dear.'
-'Well, so I do, but sometimes you're so queer.'
-
-She blinked at him out of her withered eyes
-Below her lashless eyelids red and bleared.
-Her months of sacrifice had won the prize,
-Her Jim had come to what she always feared.
-And yet she doubted, so she shook and peered
-And begged her God not let a woman take
-The lovely son whom she had starved to make.
-
-Doubting, she stood the dishes in the rack,
-'We'll ask her in some evening, then,' she said,
-'How nice her hair looked in the bit of black.'
-And still she peered from eyes all dim and red
-To note at once if Jimmy drooped his head,
-Or if his ears blushed when he heard her praised,
-And Jimmy blushed and hung his head and gazed.
-
-'This is the end,' she thought.  'This is the end.
-I'll have to sew again for Mr Jones,
-Do hems when I can hardly see to mend,
-And have the old ache in my marrow-bones.
-And when his wife's in child-bed, when she groans,
-She'll send for me until the pains have ceased,
-And give me leavings at the christening feast.
-
-And sit aslant to eye me as I eat,
-"You're only wanted here, ma'am, for to-day,
-Just for the christ'ning party, for the treat,
-Don't ever think I mean to let you stay;
-Two's company, three's none, that's what I say."
-Life can be bitter to the very bone
-When one is poor, and woman, and alone.
-
-'Jimmy,' she said, still doubting, 'Come, my dear,
-Let's have our "Binger," 'fore we go to bed,'
-And then 'The parson's dog,' she cackled clear,
-'Lep over stile,' she sang, nodding her head.
-'His name was little Binger.'  'Jim,' she said,
-'Binger, now, chorus' ... Jimmy kicked the hob,
-The sacrament of song died in a sob.
-
-Jimmy went out into the night to think
-Under the moon so steady in the blue.
-The woman's beauty ran in him like drink,
-The fear that men had loved her burnt him through;
-The fear that even then another knew
-All the deep mystery which women make
-To hide the inner nothing made him shake.
-
-'Anna, I love you, and I always shall.'
-He looked towards Plaister's End beyond Cot Hills.
-A white star glimmered in the long canal,
-A droning from the music came in thrills.
-Love is a flame to burn out human wills,
-Love is a flame to set the will on fire,
-Love is a flame to cheat men into mire.
-
-One of the three, we make Love what we choose,
-But Jimmy did not know, he only thought
-That Anna was too beautiful to lose,
-That she was all the world and he was naught,
-That it was sweet, though bitter, to be caught.
-'Anna, I love you.'  Underneath the moon,
-'I shall go mad unless I see you soon.'
-
-The fair's lights threw aloft a misty glow.
-The organ whangs, the giddy horses reel,
-The rifles cease, the folk begin to go,
-The hands unclamp the swing-boats from the wheel,
-There is a smell of trodden orange peel;
-The organ drones and dies, the horses stop,
-And then the tent collapses from the top.
-
-The fair is over, let the people troop,
-The drunkards stagger homewards down the gutters,
-The showmen heave in an excited group,
-The poles tilt slowly down, the canvas flutters,
-The mauls knock out the pins, the last flare sputters.
-'Lower away.'  'Go easy.'  'Lower, lower.'
-'You've dang near knock my skull in.  Loose it slower.'
-
-'Back in the horses.'  'Are the swing-boats loaded?'
-'All right to start.'  'Bill, where's the cushion gone?
-The red one for the Queen?'  'I think I stowed it.'
-'You think, you think.  Lord, where's that cushion, John?'
-'It's in that bloody box you're sitting on,
-What more d'you want?'  A concertina plays
-Far off as wandering lovers go their ways.
-
-Up the dim Bye Street to the market-place
-The dead bones of the fair are borne in carts,
-Horses and swing-boats at a funeral pace
-After triumphant hours quickening hearts;
-A policeman eyes each waggon as it starts,
-The drowsy showmen stumble half asleep,
-One of them catcalls, having drunken deep.
-
-So out, over the pass, into the plain,
-And the dawn finds them filling empty cans
-In some sweet-smelling dusty country lane,
-Where a brook chatters over rusty pans.
-The iron chimneys of the caravans
-Smoke as they go.  And now the fair has gone
-To find a new pitch somewhere further on.
-
-But as the fair moved out two lovers came,
-Ernie and Bessie loitering out together;
-Bessie with wild eyes, hungry as a flame,
-Ern like a stallion tugging at a tether.
-It was calm moonlight, and October weather,
-So still, so lovely, as they topped the ridge.
-They brushed by Jimmy standing on the bridge.
-
-And, as they passed, they gravely eyed each other,
-And the blood burned in each heart beating there;
-And out into the Bye Street tottered mother,
-Without her shawl, in the October air.
-'Jimmy,' she cried, 'Jimmy.'  And Bessie's hair
-Drooped on the instant over Ernie's face,
-And the two lovers clung in an embrace.
-
-'O, Ern.'  'My own, my Bessie.'  As they kissed
-Jimmy was envious of the thing unknown.
-So this was Love, the something he had missed,
-Woman and man athirst, aflame, alone.
-Envy went knocking at his marrow-bone,
-And Anna's face swam up so dim, so fair,
-Shining and sweet, with poppies in her hair.
-
-
-
-
-                                  III
-
-
-After the fair, the gang began again.
-Tipping the trollies down the banks of earth.
-The truck of stone clanks on the endless chain,
-A clever pony guides it to its berth.
-'Let go.'  It tips, the navvies shout for mirth
-To see the pony step aside, so wise,
-But Jimmy sighed, thinking of Anna's eyes.
-
-And when he stopped his shovelling he looked
-Over the junipers towards Plaister way,
-The beauty of his darling had him hooked,
-He had no heart for wrastling with the clay.
-'O Lord Almighty, I must get away;
-O Lord, I must.  I must just see my flower,
-Why, I could run there in the dinner hour.'
-
-The whistle on the pilot engine blew,
-The men knocked off, and Jimmy slipped aside
-Over the fence, over the bridge, and through,
-And then ahead along the water-side,
-Under the red-brick rail-bridge, arching wide,
-Over the hedge, across the fields, and on;
-The foreman asked: 'Where's Jimmy Gurney gone?'
-
-It is a mile and more to Plaister's End,
-But Jimmy ran the short way by the stream,
-And there was Anna's cottage at the bend,
-With blue smoke on the chimney, faint as steam.
-'God, she's at home,' and up his heart a gleam
-Leapt like a rocket on November nights,
-And shattered slowly in a burst of lights.
-
-Anna was singing at her kitchen fire,
-She was surprised, and not well pleased to see
-A sweating navvy, red with heat and mire,
-Come to her door, whoever he might be.
-But when she saw that it was Jimmy, she
-Smiled at his eyes upon her, full of pain,
-And thought, 'But, still, he mustn't come again.
-
-People will talk; boys are such crazy things;
-But he's a dear boy though he is so green.'
-So, hurriedly, she slipped her apron strings,
-And dabbed her hair, and wiped her fingers clean,
-And came to greet him languid as a queen,
-Looking as sweet, as fair, as pure, as sad,
-As when she drove her loving husband mad.
-
-'Poor boy,' she said, 'Poor boy, how hot you are.'
-She laid a cool hand to his sweating face.
-'How kind to come.  Have you been running far?
-I'm just going out; come up the road a pace.
-O dear, these hens; they're all about the place.'
-So Jimmy shooed the hens at her command,
-And got outside the gate as she had planned.
-
-'Anna, my dear, I love you; love you, true;
-I had to come--I don't know--I can't rest--
-I lay awake all night, thinking of you.
-Many must love you, but I love you best.'
-'Many have loved me, yes, dear,' she confessed,
-She smiled upon him with a tender pride,
-'But my love ended when my husband died.
-
-Still, we'll be friends, dear friends, dear, tender friends;
-Love with its fever's at an end for me.
-Be by me gently now the fever ends,
-Life is a lovelier thing than lovers see,
-I'd like to trust a man, Jimmy,' said she,
-'May I trust you?'  'Oh, Anna dear, my dear----
-'Don't come so close,' she said, 'with people near.
-
-Dear, don't be vexed; it's very sweet to find
-One who will understand; but life is life,
-And those who do not know are so unkind.
-But you'll be by me, Jimmy, in the strife,
-I love you though I cannot be your wife;
-And now be off, before the whistle goes,
-Or else you'll lose your quarter, goodness knows.'
-
-'When can I see you, Anna?  Tell me, dear.
-To-night?  To-morrow?  Shall I come to-night?
-'Jimmy, my friend, I cannot have you here;
-But when I come to town perhaps we might.
-Dear, you must go; no kissing; you can write,
-And I'll arrange a meeting when I learn
-What friends are doing' (meaning Shepherd Ern).
-
-'Good-bye, my own.'  'Dear Jim, you understand.
-If we were only free, dear, free to meet,
-Dear, I would take you by your big, strong hand
-And kiss your dear boy eyes so blue and sweet;
-But my dead husband lies under the sheet,
-Dead in my heart, dear, lovely, lonely one,
-So, Jim, my dear, my loving days are done.
-
-But though my heart is buried in his grave
-Something might be--friendship and utter trust--
-And you, my dear starved little Jim shall have
-Flowers of friendship from my dead heart's dust;
-Life would be sweet if men would never lust.
-Why do you, Jimmy?  Tell me sometime, dear,
-Why men are always what we women fear.
-
-Not now.  Good-bye; we understand, we two,
-And life, O Jim, how glorious life is;
-This sunshine in my heart is due to you;
-I was so sad, and life has given this.
-I think "I wish I had something of his,"
-Do give me something, will you be so kind?
-Something to keep you always in my mind.
-
-'I will,' he said.  'Now go, or you'll be late.'
-He broke from her and ran, and never dreamt
-That as she stood to watch him from the gate
-Her heart was half amusement, half contempt,
-Comparing Jim the squab, red and unkempt,
-In sweaty corduroys, with Shepherd Ern.
-She blew him kisses till he passed the turn.
-
-The whistle blew before he reached the line;
-The foreman asked him what the hell he meant,
-Whether a duke had asked him out to dine,
-Or if he thought the bag would pay his rent?
-And Jim was fined before the foreman went.
-But still his spirit glowed from Anna's words,
-Cooed in the voice so like a singing bird's.
-
-'O Anna, darling, you shall have a present;
-I'd give you golden gems if I were rich,
-And everything that's sweet and all that's pleasant.'
-He dropped his pick as though he had a stitch,
-And stared tow'rds Plaister's End, past Bushe's Pitch.
-O beauty, what I have to give I'll give,
-All mine is yours, beloved, while I live.'
-
-All through the afternoon his pick was slacking,
-His eyes were always turning west and south,
-The foreman was inclined to send him packing,
-But put it down to after fair-day drouth;
-He looked at Jimmy with an ugly mouth,
-And Jimmy slacked, and muttered in a moan,
-'My love, my beautiful, my very own.'
-
-So she had loved.  Another man had had her;
-She had been his with passion in the night;
-An agony of envy made him sadder,
-Yet stabbed a pang of bitter-sweet delight--
-O he would keep his image of her white.
-The foreman cursed, stepped up, and asked him flat
-What kind of gum-tree he was gaping at.
-
-It was Jim's custom, when the pay day came,
-To take his weekly five and twenty shilling
-Back in the little packet to his dame;
-Not taking out a farthing for a filling,
-Nor twopence for a pot, for he was willing
-That she should have it all to save or spend.
-But love makes many lovely customs end.
-
-Next pay day came and Jimmy took the money,
-But not to mother, for he meant to buy
-A thirteen-shilling locket for his honey,
-Whatever bellies hungered and went dry,
-A silver heart-shape with a ruby eye.
-He bought the thing and paid the shopman's price,
-And hurried off to make the sacrifice.
-
-'Is it for me?  You dear, dear generous boy.
-How sweet of you.  I'll wear it in my dress.
-When you're beside me life is such a joy,
-You bring the sun to solitariness.'
-She brushed his jacket with a light caress,
-His arms went round her fast, she yielded meek;
-He had the happiness to kiss her cheek.
-
-'My dear, my dear.'  'My very dear, my Jim,
-How very kind my Jimmy is to me;
-I ache to think that some are harsh to him;
-Not like my Jimmy, beautiful and free.
-My darling boy, how lovely it would be
-If all would trust as we two trust each other.'
-And Jimmy's heart grew hard against his mother.
-
-She, poor old soul, was waiting in the gloom
-For Jimmy's pay, that she could do the shopping.
-The clock ticked out a solemn tale of doom;
-Clogs on the bricks outside went clippa-clopping,
-The owls were coming out and dew was dropping.
-The bacon burnt, and Jimmy not yet home.
-The clock was ticking dooms out like a gnome.
-
-'What can have kept him that he doesn't come?
-O God, they'd tell me if he'd come to hurt.'
-The unknown, unseen evil struck her numb,
-She saw his body bloody in the dirt,
-She saw the life blood pumping through the shirt,
-She saw him tipsy in the navvies' booth,
-She saw all forms of evil but the truth.
-
-At last she hurried up the line to ask
-If Jim were hurt or why he wasn't back.
-She found the watchman wearing through his task;
-Over the fire basket in his shack;
-Behind, the new embankment rose up black.
-'Gurney?' he said.  'He'd got to see a friend.'
-'Where?'  'I dunno.  I think out Plaister's End.
-
-Thanking the man, she tottered down the hill,
-The long-feared fang had bitten to the bone.
-The brook beside her talked as water will
-That it was lonely singing all alone,
-The night was lonely with the water's tone,
-And she was lonely to the very marrow.
-Love puts such bitter poison on Fate's arrow.
-
-She went the long way to them by the mills,
-She told herself that she must find her son.
-The night was ominous of many ills;
-The soughing larch-clump almost made her run,
-Her boots hurt (she had got a stone in one)
-And bitter beaks were tearing at her liver
-That her boy's heart was turned from her forever.
-
-She kept the lane, past Spindle's, past the Callows',
-Her lips still muttering prayers against the worst,
-And there were people coming from the sallows,
-Along the wild duck patch by Beggar's Hurst.
-Being in moonlight mother saw them first,
-She saw them moving in the moonlight dim,
-A woman with a sweet voice saying 'Jim.'
-
-Trembling she grovelled down into the ditch,
-They wandered past her pressing side to side.
-'O Anna, my belov'd, if I were rich.'
-It was her son, and Anna's voice replied,
-'Dear boy, dear beauty boy, my love and pride.'
-And he: 'It's but a silver thing, but I
-Will earn you better lockets by and bye.'
-
-'Dear boy, you mustn't.'  'But I mean to do.'
-'What was that funny sort of noise I heard?'
-'Where?'  'In the hedge; a sort of sob or coo.
-Listen.  It's gone.'  'It may have been a bird.'
-Jim tossed a stone but mother never stirred.
-She hugged the hedgerow, choking down her pain,
-While the hot tears were blinding in her brain.
-
-The two passed on, the withered woman rose,
-For many minutes she could only shake,
-Staring ahead with trembling little 'Oh's,'
-The noise a very frightened child might make.
-'O God, dear God, don't let the woman take
-My little son, God, not my little Jim.
-O God, I'll have to starve if I lose him.'
-
-So back she trembled, nodding with her head,
-Laughing and trembling in the bursts of tears,
-Her ditch-filled boots both squelching in the tread,
-Her shopping-bonnet sagging to her ears,
-Her heart too dumb with brokenness for fears.
-The nightmare whickering with the laugh of death
-Could not have added terror to her breath.
-
-She reached the house, and: 'I'm all right,' said she,
-'I'll just take off my things; but I'm all right,
-'I'd be all right with just a cup of tea,
-If I could only get this grate to light,
-The paper's damp and Jimmy's late to-night;
-"Belov'd, if I was rich," was what he said,
-O Jim, I wish that God would kill me dead.'
-
-While she was blinking at the unlit grate,
-Scratching the moistened match-heads off the wood,
-She heard Jim coming, so she reached his plate,
-And forked the over-frizzled scraps of food.
-'You're late,' she said, 'and this yer isn't good,
-Whatever makes you come in late like this?'
-'I've been to Plaister's End, that's how it is.'
-
-'You've been to Plaister's End?'
-  'Yes.'
-    'I've been staying
-For money for the shopping ever so.
-Down here we can't get victuals without paying,
-There's no trust down the Bye Street, as you know,
-And now it's dark and it's too late to go.
-You've been to Plaister's End.  What took you there?'
-'The lady who was with us at the fair.'
-
-'The lady, eh?  The lady?'
-        'Yes, the lady.'
-'You've been to see her?'
-      'Yes.'
-          'What happened then?'
-'I saw her.'
-  'Yes.  And what filth did she trade ye?
-Or d'you expect your locket back agen?
-I know the rotten ways of whores with men.
-What did it cost ye?'
-    'What did what cost?'
-            'It.
-Your devil's penny for the devil's bit.'
-
-'I don't know what you mean.'
-  'Jimmy, my own.
-Don't lie to mother, boy, for mother knows.
-I know you and that lady to the bone,
-And she's a whore, that thing you call a rose,
-A whore who takes whatever male thing goes;
-A harlot with the devil's skill to tell
-The special key of each man's door to hell.'
-
-'She's not.  She's nothing of the kind, I tell'ee.'
-'You can't tell women like a woman can;
-A beggar tells a lie to fill his belly,
-A strumpet tells a lie to win a man,
-Women were liars since the world began;
-And she's a liar, branded in the eyes,
-A rotten liar, who inspires lies.'
-
-'I say she's not.'
-  'No, don't'ee Jim, my dearie,
-You've seen her often in the last few days,
-She's given a love as makes you come in weary
-To lie to me before going out to laze.
-She's tempted you into the devil's ways,
-She's robbing you, full fist, of what you earn,
-In God's name, what's she giving in return?'
-
-'Her faith, my dear, and that's enough for me.'
-'Her faith.  Her faith.  O Jimmy, listen, dear;
-Love doesn't ask for faith, my son, not he;
-He asks for life throughout the live-long year,
-And life's a test for any plough to ere
-Life tests a plough in meadows made of stones,
-Love takes a toll of spirit, mind and bones.
-
-I know a woman's portion when she loves,
-It's hers to give, my darling, not to take;
-It isn't lockets, dear, nor pairs of gloves,
-It isn't marriage bells nor wedding cake,
-It's up and cook, although the belly ache;
-And bear the child, and up and work again,
-And count a sick man's grumble worth the pain.
-
-Will she do this, and fifty times as much?'
-'No.  I don't ask her.'
-  'No.  I warrant, no.
-She's one to get a young fool in her clutch,
-And you're a fool to let her trap you so.
-She love you?  She?  O Jimmy, let her go;
-I was so happy, dear, before she came,
-And now I'm going to the grave in shame.
-
-I bore you, Jimmy, in this very room.
-For fifteen years I got you all you had,
-You were my little son, made in my womb,
-Left all to me, for God had took your dad,
-You were a good son, doing all I bade,
-Until this strumpet came from God knows where,
-And now you lie, and I am in despair.
-
-Jimmy, I won't say more.  I know you think
-That I don't know, being just a withered old,
-With chaps all fallen in and eyes that blink,
-And hands that tremble so they cannot hold.
-A bag of bones to put in churchyard mould,
-A red-eyed hag beside your evening star.'
-And Jimmy gulped, and thought 'By God, you are.'
-
-'Well, if I am, my dear, I don't pretend.
-I got my eyes red, Jimmy, making you.
-My dear, before our love time's at an end
-Think just a minute what it is you do.
-If this were right, my dear, you'd tell me true;
-You don't, and so it's wrong; you lie; and she
-Lies too, or else you wouldn't lie to me.
-
-Women and men have only got one way
-And that way's marriage; other ways are lust.
-If you must marry this one, then you may,
-If not you'll drop her.'
-  'No.'  'I say you must.
-Or bring my hairs with sorrow to the dust.
-Marry your whore, you'll pay, and there an end.
-My God, you shall not have a whore for friend.
-
-By God, you shall not, not while I'm alive.
-Never, so help me God, shall that thing be.
-If she's a woman fit to touch she'll wive,
-If not she's whore, and she shall deal with me.
-And may God's blessed mercy help us see
-And may He make my Jimmy count the cost,
-My little boy who's lost, as I am lost.'
-
-People in love cannot be won by kindness,
-And opposition makes them feel like martyrs.
-When folk are crazy with a drunken blindness,
-It's best to flog them with each other's garters,
-And have the flogging done by Shropshire carters,
-Born under Ercall where the while stones lie;
-Ercall that smells of honey in July.
-
-Jimmy said nothing in reply, but thought
-That mother was an old, hard jealous thing.
-'I'll love my girl through good and ill report,
-I shall be true whatever grief it bring.'
-And in his heart he heard the death-bell ring
-For mother's death, and thought what it would be
-To bury her in churchyard and be free.
-
-He saw the narrow grave under the wall,
-Home without mother nagging at his dear,
-And Anna there with him at evenfall,
-Bidding him dry his eyes and be of cheer.
-'The death that took poor mother brings me near,
-Nearer than we have ever been before,
-Near as the dead one came, but dearer, more.'
-
-'Good-night, my son,' said mother.  'Night,' he said.
-He dabbed her brow wi's lips and blew the light,
-She lay quite silent crying on the bed,
-Stirring no limb, but crying through the night.
-He slept, convinced that he was Anna's knight.
-And when he went to work he left behind
-Money for mother crying herself blind.
-
-After that night he came to Anna's call,
-He was a fly in Anna's subtle weavings,
-Mother had no more share in him at all;
-All that the mother had was Anna's leavings.
-There were more lies, more lockets, more deceivings,
-Taunts from the proud old woman, lies from him,
-And Anna's coo of 'Cruel.  Leave her, Jim.'
-
-Also the foreman spoke: 'You make me sick,
-You come-day-go-day-God-send-plenty-beer.
-You put less mizzle on your bit of Dick,
-Or get your time, I'll have no slackers here,
-I've had my eye on you too long, my dear.'
-And Jimmy pondered while the man attacked,
-'I'd see her all day long if I were sacked.'
-
-And trembling mother thought, 'I'll go to see'r.
-She'd give me back my boy if she were told
-Just what he is to me, my pretty dear:
-She wouldn't leave me starving in the cold,
-Like what I am.'  But she was weak and old.
-She thought, 'But if I ask her, I'm afraid
-He'd hate me ever after,' so she stayed.
-
-
-
-
-                                   IV
-
-
-Bessie, the gipsy, got with child by Ern,
-She joined her tribe again at Shepherd's Meen,
-In that old quarry overgrown with fern,
-Where goats are tethered on the patch of green.
-There she reflected on the fool she'd been,
-And plaited kipes and waited for the bastard,
-And thought that love was glorious while it lasted.
-
-And Ern the moody man went moody home,
-To that most gentle girl from Ercall Hill,
-And bade her take a heed now he had come,
-Or else, by cripes, he'd put her through the mill.
-He didn't want her love, he'd had his fill,
-Thank you, of her, the bread and butter sack.
-And Anna heard that Shepherd Ern was back.
-
-'Back.  And I'll have him back to me,' she muttered,
-'This lovesick boy of twenty, green as grass,
-Has made me wonder if my brains are buttered,
-He, and his lockets, and his love, the ass.
-I don't know why he comes.  Alas! alas!
-God knows I want no love; but every sun
-I bolt my doors on some poor loving one.
-
-It breaks my heart to turn them out of doors,
-I hear them crying to me in the rain;
-One, with a white face, curses, one implores,
-"Anna, for God's sake, let me in again,
-Anna, belov'd, I cannot bear the pain."
-Like hoovey sheep bleating outside a fold
-"Anna, belov'd, I'm in the wind and cold."
-
-I want no men.  I'm weary to the soul
-Of men like moths about a candle flame,
-Of men like flies about a sugar bowl,
-Acting alike, and all wanting the same,
-My dreamed-of swirl of passion never came,
-No man has given me the love I dreamed,
-But in the best of each one something gleamed.
-
-If my dear darling were alive, but he...
-He was the same; he didn't understand.
-The eyes of that dead child are haunting me,
-I only turned the blanket with my hand.
-It didn't hurt, he died as I had planned.
-A little skinny creature, weak and red;
-It looked so peaceful after it was dead.
-
-I have been all alone, in spite of all.
-Never a light to help me place my feet:
-I have had many a pain and many a fall.
-Life's a long headache in a noisy street,
-Love at the budding looks so very sweet,
-Men put such bright disguises on their lust,
-And then it all goes crumble into dust.
-
-Jimmy the same, dear, lovely Jimmy, too,
-He goes the self-same way the others went:
-I shall bring sorrow to those eyes of blue.
-He asks the love I'm sure I never meant.
-Am I to blame?  And all his money spent!
-Men make this shutting doors such cruel pain.
-O, Ern, I want you in my life again.'
-
-On Sunday afternoons the lovers walk
-Arm within arm, dressed in their Sunday best,
-The man with the blue necktie sucks a stalk,
-The woman answers when she is addressed.
-On quiet country stiles they sit to rest,
-And after fifty years of wear and tear
-They think how beautiful their courtships were.
-
-Jimmy and Anna met to walk together
-The Sunday after Shepherd Ern returned;
-And Anna's hat was lovely with a feather
-Bought and dyed blue with money Jimmy earned.
-They walked towards Callows Farm, and Anna yearned:
-'Dear boy,' she said, 'This road is dull to-day,
-Suppose we turn and walk the other way.'
-
-They turned, she sighed.  'What makes you sigh?' he asked.
-'Thinking,' she said, 'thinking and grieving, too.
-Perhaps some wicked woman will come masked
-Into your life, my dear, to ruin you.
-And trusting every woman as you do
-It might mean death to love and be deceived;
-You'd take it hard, I thought, and so I grieved.'
-
-'Dear one, dear Anna.'  'O my lovely boy,
-Life is all golden to the finger tips.
-What will be must be: but to-day's a joy.
-Reach me that lovely branch of scarlet hips.'
-He reached and gave; she put it to her lips.
-'And here,' she said, 'we come to Plaister Turns.'
-And then she chose the road to Shepherd Ern's.
-
-As the deft angler, when the fishes rise,
-Flicks on the broadening circle over each
-The delicatest touch of dropping flies,
-Then pulls more line and whips a longer reach,
-Longing to feel the rod bend, the reel screech,
-And the quick comrade net the monster out,
-So Anna played the fly over her trout.
-
-Twice she passed, thrice, she with the boy beside her,
-A lovely fly, hooked for a human heart,
-She passed his little gate, while Jimmy eyed her,
-Feeling her beauty tear his soul apart:
-Then did the great trout rise, the great pike dart,
-The gate went clack, a man came up the hill,
-The lucky strike had hooked him through the gill.
-
-Her breath comes quick, her tired beauty glows,
-She would not look behind, she looked ahead.
-It seemed to Jimmy she was like a rose,
-A golden white rose faintly flushed with red.
-Her eyes danced quicker at the approaching tread,
-Her finger nails dug sharp into her palm.
-She yearned to Jimmy's shoulder, and kept calm.
-
-'Evening,' said Shepherd Ern.  She turned and eyed him,
-Cold and surprised, but interested too,
-To see how much he felt the hook inside him,
-And how much be surmised, and Jimmy knew,
-And if her beauty still could make him do
-The love tricks he had gambolled in the past.
-A glow shot through her that her fish was grassed.
-
-'Evening,' she said.  'Good evening.'  Jimmy felt
-Jealous and angry at the shepherd's tone;
-He longed to hit the fellow's nose a belt,
-He wanted his beloved his alone.
-A fellow's girl should be a fellow's own.
-Ern gave the lad a glance and turned to Anna,
-Jim might have been in China by his manner.
-
-'Still walking out?'  'As you are.'  'I'll be bound.'
-'Can you talk gipsy yet, or plait a kipe?'
-'I'll teach you if I can when I come round.'
-'And when will that be?'  'When the time is ripe.'
-And Jimmy longed to hit the man a swipe
-Under the chin to knock him out of time,
-But Anna stayed: she still had twigs to lime.
-
-'Come, Anna, come, my dear,' he muttered low.
-She frowned, and blinked and spoke again to Ern.
-'I hear the gipsy has a row to hoe.'
-'The more you hear,' he said, 'the less you'll learn.'
-'We've just come out,' she said, 'to take a turn;
-Suppose you come along: the more the merrier.'
-'All right,' he said, 'but how about the terrier?'
-
-He cocked an eye at Jimmy.  'Does he bite?'
-Jimmy blushed scarlet.  'He's a dear,' said she.
-Ern walked a step, 'Will you be in to-night?'
-She shook her head, 'I doubt if that may be.
-Jim, here's a friend who wants to talk to me,
-So will you go and come another day?'
-'By crimes, I won't!' said Jimmy, 'I shall stay.'
-
-'I thought he bit,' said Ern, and Anna smiled,
-And Jimmy saw the smile and watched her face
-While all the jealous devils made him wild;
-A third in love is always out of place;
-And then her gentle body full of grace
-Leaned to him sweetly as she tossed her head,
-'Perhaps we two'll be getting on,' she said.
-
-They walked, but Jimmy turned to watch the third.
-'I'm here, not you,' he said; the shepherd grinned:
-Anna was smiling sweet without a word;
-She got the scarlet berry branch unpinned.
-'It's cold,' she said, 'this evening, in the wind.'
-A quick glance showed that Jimmy didn't mind her,
-She beckoned with the berry branch behind her,
-
-Then dropped it gently on the broken stones,
-Preoccupied, unheeding, walking straight,
-Saying 'You jealous boy,' in even tones,
-Looking so beautiful, so delicate,
-Being so very sweet: but at her gate
-She felt her shoe unlaced and looked to know
-If Ern had taken up the sprig or no.
-
-He had, she smiled.  'Anna,' said Jimmy sadly,
-'That man's not fit to be a friend of yourn,
-He's nobbut just an oaf; I love you madly,
-And hearing you speak kind to'm made me burn.
-Who is he then?'  She answered 'Shepherd Ern,
-A pleasant man, an old, old friend of mine.'
-'By cripes, then, Anna, drop him, he's a swine.'
-
-'Jimmy,' she said, 'you must have faith in me,
-Faith's all the battle in a love like ours.
-You must believe, my darling, don't you see
-That life to have its sweets must have its sours.
-Love isn't always two souls picking flowers.
-You must have faith.  I give you all I can.
-What, can't I say "Good evening" to a man?'
-
-'Yes,' he replied, 'But not a man like him.'
-'Why not a man like him?' she said, 'What next?'
-By this they'd reached her cottage in the dim,
-Among the daisies that the cold had kexed.
-'Because I say.  Now, Anna, don't be vexed.'
-'I'm more than vexed,' she said, 'with words like these.
-"You say," indeed.  How dare you.  Leave me, please.'
-
-'Anna, my Anna.'  'Leave me.'  She was cold,
-Proud and imperious with a lifting lip,
-Blazing within, but outwardly controlled;
-He had a colt's first instant of the whip.
-The long lash curled to cut a second strip.
-'You to presume to teach.  Of course, I know
-You're mother's Sunday scholar, aren't you?  Go.'
-
-She slammed the door behind her, clutching skirts.
-'Anna.'  He heard her bedroom latches thud.
-He learned at last how bitterly love hurts;
-He longed to cut her throat and see her blood,
-To stamp her blinking eyeballs into mud.
-'Anna, by God!'  Love's many torments make
-That tune soon change to 'Dear, for Jesus' sake.'
-
-He beat the door for her.  She never stirred,
-But primming bitter lips before her glass;
-Admired her hat as though she hadn't heard,
-And tried her front hair parted, and in mass.
-She heard her lover's hasty footsteps pass.
-'He's gone,' she thought.  She crouched below the pane,
-And heard him cursing as he tramped the lane.
-
-Rage ran in Jimmy as he tramped the night;
-Rage, strongly mingled with a youth's disgust
-At finding a beloved woman light,
-And all her precious beauty dirty dust;
-A tinsel-varnish gilded over lust.
-Nothing but that.  He sat him down to rage,
-Beside the stream whose waters never age.
-
-Plashing, it slithered down the tiny fall
-To eddy wrinkles in the trembling pool
-With that light voice whose music cannot pall,
-Always the note of solace, flute-like, cool.
-And when hot-headed man has been a fool,
-He could not do a wiser thing than go
-To that dim pool where purple teazles grow.
-
-He glowered there until suspicion came,
-Suspicion, anger's bastard, with mean tongue,
-To mutter to him till his heart was flame,
-And every fibre of his soul was wrung,
-That even then Ern and his Anna clung
-Mouth against mouth in passionate embrace.
-There was no peace for Jimmy in the place.
-
-Raging he hurried back to learn the truth.
-The little swinging wicket glimmered white,
-The chimney jagged the skyline like a tooth,
-Bells came in swoons for it was Sunday night.
-The garden was all dark, but there was light
-Up in the little room where Anna slept:
-The hot blood beat his brain; he crept, he crept.
-
-Clutching himself to hear, clutching to know,
-Along the path, rustling with withered leaves,
-Up to the apple, too decayed to blow,
-Which crooked a palsied finger at the eaves.
-And up the lichened trunk his body heaves.
-Dust blinded him, twigs snapped, the branches shook,
-He leaned along a mossy bough to look.
-
-Nothing at first, except a guttering candle
-Shaking amazing shadows on the ceiling,
-Then Anna's voice upon a bar of 'Randal,
-Where have you been:' and voice and music reeling,
-Trembling, as though she sang with flooding feeling.
-The singing stopped midway upon the stair,
-Then Anna showed in white with loosened hair.
-
-Her back was towards him, and she stood awhile,
-Like a wild creature tossing back her mane,
-And then her head went back, he saw a smile
-On the half face half turned towards the pane;
-Her eyes closed, and her arms went out again.
-Jim gritted teeth, and called upon his Maker,
-She drooped into a man's arms there to take her.
-
-Agony first, sharp, sudden, like a knife,
-Then down the tree to batter at the door;
-'Open there.  Let me in.  I'll have your life.
-You Jezebel of hell, you painted whore,
-Talk about faith, I'll give you faith galore.'
-The window creaked, a jug of water came
-Over his head and neck with certain aim.
-
-'Clear out,' said Ern; 'I'm here, not you, to-night,
-Clear out.  We whip young puppies when they yap.'
-'If you're a man,' said Jim, 'Come down and fight,
-I'll put a stopper on your ugly chap.'
-'Go home,' said Ern; 'Go home and get your pap.
-To kennel, pup, and bid your mother bake
-Some soothing syrup in your puppy cake.'
-
-There was a dibble sticking in the bed,
-Jim wrenched it out and swung it swiftly round,
-And sent it flying at the shepherd's head:
-'I'll give you puppy-cake.  Take that, you hound.'
-The broken glass went clinking to the ground,
-The dibble balanced, checked, and followed flat.
-'My God,' said Ern, 'I'll give you hell for that.'
-
-He flung the door ajar with 'Now, my pup--
-Hold up the candle, Anna--now, we'll see.'
-'By crimes, come on,' said Jimmy; 'Put them up.
-Come, put them up, you coward, here I be.'
-And Jim, eleven stone, what chance had he
-Against fourteen? but what he could he did;
-Ern swung his right: 'That settles you, my kid.'
-
-Jimmy went down and out: 'The kid,' said Ern.
-'A kid, a sucking puppy; hold the light.'
-And Anna smiled: 'It gave me such a turn,
-You look so splendid, Ernie, when you fight.'
-She looked at Jim with: 'Ern, is he all right?'
-'He's coming to.'  She shuddered, 'Pah, the brute.
-What things he said'; she stirred him with her foot.
-
-'You go inside,' said Ern, 'and bolt the door,
-I'll deal with him.'  She went and Jimmy stood.
-'Now, pup,' said Ern, 'don't come round here no more.
-I'm here, not you, let that be understood.
-I tell you frankly, pup, for your own good.'
-'Give me my hat,' said Jim.  He passed the gate,
-And as he tottered off he called, 'You wait.'
-
-'Thanks, I don't have to,' Shepherd Ern replied;
-'You'll do whatever waiting's being done.'
-The door closed gently as he went inside,
-The bolts jarred in the channels one by one.
-'I'll give you throwing bats about, my son.
-Anna.'  'My dear?'  'Where are you?'  'Come and find.'
-The light went out, the windows stared out blind.
-
-Blind as blind eyes forever seeing dark.
-And in the dim the lovers went upstairs,
-Her eyes fast closed, the shepherd's burning stark,
-His lips entangled in her straying hairs,
-Breath coming short as in a convert's prayers,
-Her stealthy face all drowsy in the dim
-And full of shudders as she yearned to him.
-
-Jim crossed the water, cursing in his tears,
-'By cripes, you wait.  My God, he's with her now
-And all her hair pulled down over her ears;
-Loving the blaggard like a filthy sow,
-I saw her kiss him from the apple bough.
-They say a whore is always full of wiles,
-O God, how sweet her eyes are when she smiles.
-
-Curse her and curse her.  No, my God, she's sweet,
-It's all a helly nightmare.  I shall wake.
-If it were all a dream I'd kiss her feet,
-I wish it were a dream for Jesus' sake.
-One thing: I bet I made his guzzle ache,
-I cop it fair before he sent me down,
-I'll cop him yet some evening on the crown.
-
-O God, O God, what pretty ways she had,
-He's kissing all her skin, so white and soft.
-She's kissing back.  I think I'm going mad.
-Like rutting rattens in the apple loft.
-She held that light she carried high aloft
-Full in my eyes for him to hit me by,
-I had the light all dazzling in my eye.
-
-She had her dress all clutched up to her shoulder,
-And all her naked arm was all one gleam.
-It's going to freeze to-night, it's turning colder,
-I wish there was more water in the stream,
-I'd drownd myself.  Perhaps it's all a dream,
-And bye and bye I'll wake and find it stuff;
-By crimes, the pain I suffer's real enough.'
-
-About two hundred yards from Gunder Loss
-He stopped to shudder, leaning on the gate,
-He bit the touchwood underneath the moss;
-'Rotten, like her,' he muttered in his hate;
-He spat it out again with 'But, you wait,
-We'll see again, before to-morrow's past,
-In this life he laughs longest who laughs last.'
-
-All through the night the stream ran to the sea,
-The different water always saying the same,
-Cat-like, and then a tinkle, never glee,
-A lonely little child alone in shame.
-An otter snapped a thorn twig when he came,
-It drifted down, it passed the Hazel Mill,
-It passed the Springs; but Jimmy stayed there still.
-
-Over the pointed hill-top came the light
-Out of the mists on Ercall came the sun,
-Red like a huntsman halloing after night,
-Blowing a horn to rouse up everyone;
-Through many glittering cities he had run,
-Splashing the wind vanes on the dewy roofs
-With golden sparks struck by his horses' hoofs.
-
-The watchman rose, rubbing his rusty eyes,
-He stirred the pot of cocoa for his mate;
-The fireman watched his head of power rise.
-'What time?' he asked.  'You haven't long to wait.'
-'Now, is it time?'  'Yes.  Let her ripple.'  Straight
-The whistle shrieked its message, 'Up to work!
-Up, or be fined a quarter if you shirk.'
-
-Hearing the whistle, Jimmy raised his head,
-'The warning call, and me in Sunday clo'es;
-I'd better go; I've time.  The sun looks red,
-I feel so stiff' I'm very nearly froze.'
-So over brook and through the fields he goes,
-And up the line among the navvies' smiles,
-'Young Jimmy Gurney's been upon the tiles.'
-
-The second whistle blew and work began,
-Jimmy worked too, not knowing what he did,
-He tripped and stumbled like a drunken man;
-He muddled all, whatever he was bid,
-The foreman cursed, 'Good God, what ails the kid?
-Hi!  Gurney.  You.  We'll have you crocking soon,
-You take a lie down till the afternoon.'
-
-'I won't,' he answered.  'Why the devil should I?
-I'm here, I mean to work.  I do my piece,
-Or would do if a man could, but how could I
-Then you come nagging round and never cease?
-Well, take the job and give me my release,
-I want the sack, now give it, there's my pick;
-Give me the sack.'  The sack was given quick.
-
-
-
-
-                                   V
-
-
-Dully he got his time-check from the keeper.
-'Curse her,' he said; 'and that's the end of whores'--
-He stumbled drunkenly across a sleeper--
-'Give all you have and get kicked out a-doors.'
-He cashed his time-check at the station stores.
-'Bett'ring yourself, I hope, Jim,' said the master;
-'That's it,' said Jim; 'and so I will do, blast her.'
-
-Beyond the bridge, a sharp turn to the right
-Leads to 'The Bull and Boar,' the carters' rest;
-An inn so hidden it is out of sight
-To anyone not coming from the west.
-The high embankment hides it with its crest.
-Far up above the Chester trains go by,
-The drinkers see them sweep against the sky.
-
-Canal men used it when the barges came,
-The navvies used it when the line was making;
-The pigeons strut and sidle, ruffling, tame,
-The chuckling brook in front sets shadows shaking.
-Cider and beer for thirsty workers' slaking,
-A quiet house; like all that God controls,
-It is Fate's instrument on human souls.
-
-Thither Jim turned.  'And now I'll drink,' he said.
-'I'll drink and drink--I never did before--
-I'll drink and drink until I'm mad or dead,
-For that's what comes of meddling with a whore.'
-He called for liquor at 'The Bull and Boar';
-Moody he drank; the woman asked him why:
-'Have you had trouble?'  'No,' he said, 'I'm dry.
-
-Dry and burnt up, so give's another drink;
-That's better, that's much better, that's the sort.'
-And then he sang, so that he should not think,
-His Binger-Bopper song, but cut it short.
-His wits were working like a brewer's wort
-Until among them came the vision gleaming
-Of Ern with bloody nose and Anna screaming.
-
-'That's what I'll do,' he muttered; 'knock him out,
-And kick his face in with a running jump.
-I'll not have dazzled eyes this second bout,
-And she can wash the fragments under pump.'
-It was his ace; but Death had played a trump.
-Death the blind beggar chuckled, nodding dumb,
-'My game; the shroud is ready, Jimmy--come.'
-
-Meanwhile, the mother, waiting for her child,
-Had tottered out a dozen times to search.
-'Jimmy,' she said, 'you'll drive your mother wild;
-Your father's name's too good a name to smirch,
-Come home, my dear, she'll leave you in the lurch;
-He was so good, my little Jim, so clever;
-He never stop a night away, not ever.
-
-He never slept a night away till now,
-Never, not once, in all the time he's been.
-It's the Lord's will, they say, and we must bow,
-But O it's like a knife, it cuts so keen!
-He'll work in's Sunday clothes, it'll be seen,
-And then they'll laugh, and say "It isn't strange;
-He slept with her, and so he couldn't change."
-
-Perhaps,' she thought, 'I'm wrong; perhaps he's dead;
-Killed himself like; folk do in love, they say.
-He never tells what passes in his head,
-And he's been looking late so old and grey.
-A railway train has cut his head away,
-Like the poor hare we found at Maylow's shack.
-O God have pity, bring my darling back!'
-
-All the high stars went sweeping through the sky,
-The sun made all the orient clean, clear gold,
-'O blessed God,' she prayed, 'do let me die,
-Or bring my wand'ring lamb back into fold.
-The whistle's gone, and all the bacon's cold;
-I must know somehow if he's on the line,
-He could have bacon sandwich when he dine.'
-
-She cut the bread, and started, short of breath,
-Up the canal now draining for the rail;
-A poor old woman pitted against death,
-Bringing her pennyworth of love for bail.
-Wisdom, beauty, and love may not avail.
-She was too late.  'Yes, he was here; oh, yes.
-He chucked his job and went.'  'Where?'  'Home, I guess.'
-
-'Home, but he hasn't been home.'  'Well, he went.
-Perhaps you missed him, mother.'  'Or perhaps
-He took the field path yonder through the bent.
-He very likely done that, don't he, chaps?'
-The speaker tested both his trouser straps
-And took his pick.  'He's in the town,' he said.
-'He'll be all right, after a bit in bed.'
-
-She trembled down the high embankment's ridge
-Glad, though too late; not yet too late, indeed.
-For forty yards away, beyond the bridge,
-Jimmy still drank, the devil still sowed seed.
-'A bit in bed,' she thought, 'is what I need.
-I'll go to "Bull and Boar" and rest a bit,
-They've got a bench outside they'd let me sit.'
-
-Even as two soldiers on a fortress wall
-See the bright fire streak of a coming shell.
-Catch breath, and wonder 'Which way will it fall?
-To you? to me? or will it all be well?'
-Ev'n so stood life and death, and could not tell
-Whether she'd go to th'inn and find her son,
-Or take the field and let the doom be done.
-
-'No, not the inn,' she thought.  'People would talk.
-I couldn't in the open daytime; no.
-I'll just sit here upon the timber balk,
-I'll rest for just a minute and then go.'
-Resting, her old tired heart began to glow,
-Glowed and gave thanks, and thought itself in clover,
-'He's lost his job, so now she'll throw him over.'
-
-Sitting, she saw the rustling thistle-kex,
-The picks flash bright above, the trollies tip.
-The bridge-stone shining, full of silver specks,
-And three swift children running down the dip.
-A Stoke Saint Michael carter cracked his whip,
-The water in the runway made its din.
-She half heard singing coming from the inn.
-
-She turned, and left the inn, and took the path
-And 'Brother Life, you lose,' said Brother Death,
-'Even as the Lord of all appointed hath
-In this great miracle of blood and breath.'
-He doeth all things well as the book saith,
-He bids the changing stars fulfil their turn,
-His hand is on us when we least discern.
-
-Slowly she tottered, stopping with the stitch,
-Catching her breath, 'O lawks, a dear, a dear.
-How the poor tubings in my heart do twitch,
-It hurts like the rheumatics very near.'
-And every painful footstep drew her clear
-From that young life she bore with so much pain.
-She never had him to herself again.
-
-Out of the inn came Jimmy, red with drink,
-Crying: 'I'll show her.  Wait a bit.  I'll show her.
-You wait a bit.  I'm not the kid you think.
-I'm Jimmy Gurney, champion tupper-thrower,
-When I get done with her you'll never know her,
-Nor him you won't.  Out of my way, you fowls,
-Or else I'll rip the red things off your jowls.'
-
-He went across the fields to Plaister's End.
-There was a lot of water in the brook,
-Sun and white cloud and weather on the mend
-For any man with any eyes to look.
-He found old Callow's plough-bat, which he took,
-'My innings now, my pretty dear,' said he.
-'You wait a bit.  I'll show you.  Now you'll see.'
-
-Her chimney smoke was blowing blue and faint,
-The wise duck shook a tail across the pool,
-The blacksmith's shanty smelt of burning paint,
-Four newly-tired cartwheels hung to cool.
-He had loved the place when under Anna's rule.
-Now he clenched teeth and flung aside the gate,
-There at the door they stood.  He grinned.  'Now wait.'
-
-Ern had just brought her in a wired hare,
-She stood beside him stroking down the fur.
-'Oh, Ern, poor thing, look how its eyes do stare,'
-'It isn't it,' he answered.  'It's a her.'
-She stroked the breast and plucked away a bur,
-She kissed the pads, and leapt back with a shout,
-'My God, he's got the spudder.  Ern.  Look out.'
-
-Ern clenched his fists.  Too late.  He felt no pain,
-Only incredible haste in something swift,
-A shock that made the sky black on his brain,
-Then stillness, while a little cloud went drift.
-The weight upon his thigh bones wouldn't lift;
-Then poultry in a long procession came,
-Grey-legged, doing the goose-step, eyes like flame.
-
-Grey-legged old cocks and hens sedate in age,
-Marching with jerks as though they moved on springs,
-With sidelong hate in round eyes red with rage,
-And shouldered muskets clipped by jealous wings,
-Then an array of horns and stupid things:
-Sheep on a hill with harebells, hare for dinner.
-'Hare.'  A slow darkness covered up the sinner.
-
-'But little time is right hand fain of blow.'
-Only a second changes life to death;
-Hate ends before the pulses cease to go,
-There is great power in the stop of breath.
-There's too great truth in what the dumb thing saith,
-Hate never goes so far as that, nor can.
-'I am what life becomes.  D'you hate me, man?'
-
-Hate with his babbling instant, red and damning,
-Passed with his instant, having drunken red.
-'You've killed him.'
-  'No, I've not, he's only shamming.
-Get up.'  'He can't.'  'O God, he isn't dead.'
-'O God.'  'Here.  Get a basin.  Bathe his head.
-Ernie, for God's sake, what are you playing at?
-I only give him one like, with the bat.'
-
-Man cannot call the brimming instant back;
-Time's an affair of instants spun to days;
-If man must make an instant gold, or black,
-Let him, he may, but Time must go his ways.
-Life may be duller for an instant's blaze.
-Life's an affair of instants spun to years,
-Instants are only cause of all these tears.
-
-Then Anna screamed aloud.  'Help.  Murder.  Murder.'
-'By God, it is,' he said.  'Through you, you slut.'
-Backing, she screamed, until the blacksmith heard her.
-'Hurry,' they cried, 'the woman's throat's being cut.'
-Jim had his coat off by the water butt.
-'He might come to,' he said, 'with wine or soup.
-I only hit him once, like, with the scoop.
-
-Splash water on him, chaps.  I only meant
-To hit him just a clip, like, nothing more.
-There.  Look.  He isn't dead, his eyelids went.
-And he went down.  O God, his head's all tore.
-I've washed and washed: it's all one gob of gore.
-He don't look dead to you?  What?  Nor to you?
-Not kill, the clip I give him, couldn't do.'
-
-'God send; he looks damn bad,' the blacksmith said.
-'Py Cot,' his mate said, 'she wass altogether;
-She hass an illness look of peing ted.'
-'Here.  Get a glass,' the smith said, 'and a feather.'
-'Wass you at fightings or at playings whether?'
-'Here, get a glass and feather.  Quick's the word.'
-The glass was clear.  The feather never stirred.
-
-'By God, I'm sorry, Jim.  That settles it.'
-'By God.  I've killed him then.'  'The doctor might.'
-'Try, if you like; but that's a nasty hit.'
-'Doctor's gone by.  He won't be back till night.'
-'Py Cot, the feather was not looking right.'
-'By Jesus, chaps, I never meant to kill 'un.
-Only to bat.  I'll go to p'leece and tell 'un.
-
-O Ern, for God's sake speak, for God's sake speak.'
-No answer followed: Ern had done with dust,
-'The p'leece is best,' the smith said, 'or a beak.
-I'll come along; and so the lady must.
-Evans, you bring the lady, will you just?
-Tell 'em just how it come, lad.  Come your ways;
-And Joe, you watch the body where it lays.'
-
-They walked to town, Jim on the blacksmith's arm.
-Jimmy was crying like a child, and saying,
-'I never meant to do him any harm.'
-His teeth went clack, like bones at murmurs playing,
-And then he trembled hard and broke out praying,
-'God help my poor old mother.  If he's dead,
-I've brought her my last wages home,' he said.
-
-He trod his last free journey down the street;
-Treading the middle road, and seeing both sides,
-The school, the inns, the butchers selling meat,
-The busy market where the town divides.
-Then past the tanpits full of stinking hides,
-And up the lane to death, as weak as pith.
-'By God, I hate this, Jimmy,' said the smith.
-
-
-
-
-                                   VI
-
-
-Anna in black, the judge in scarlet robes,
-A fuss of lawyers' people coming, going,
-The windows shut, the gas alight in globes,
-Evening outside, and pleasant weather blowing.
-'They'll hang him?'  'I suppose so; there's no knowing.'
-'A pretty piece, the woman, ain't she, John?
-He killed the fellow just for carrying on.'
-
-'She give her piece to counsel pretty clear.'
-'Ah, that she did, and when she stop she smiled.'
-'She's had a-many men, that pretty dear;
-She's drove a-many pretty fellows wild.'
-'More silly idiots they to be beguiled.'
-'Well, I don't know.'  'Well, I do.  See her eyes?
-Mystery, eh?  A woman's mystery's lies.'
-
-'Perhaps.'  'No p'raps about it, that's the truth.
-I know these women; they're a rotten lot.'
-'You didn't use to think so in your youth.'
-'No; but I'm wiser now, and not so hot.
-Married or buried, _I_ say, wives or shot,
-These unmanned, unattached Maries and Susans
-Make life no better than a proper nuisance.'
-
-'Well, I don't know.'  'Well, if you don't you will.'
-'I look on women as as good as men.'
-'Now, that's the kind of talk that makes me ill.
-When have they been as good?  I ask you when?'
-'Always they have.'  'They haven't.  Now and then
-P'raps one or two was neither hen nor fury.'
-'One for your mother, that.  Here comes the jury.'
-
-Guilty.  Thumbs down.  No hope.  The judge passed sentence;
-'A frantic passionate youth, unfit for life,
-A fitting time afforded for repentance,
-Then certain justice with a pitiless knife.
-For her his wretched victim's widowed wife,
-Pity.  For her who bore him, pity.  (Cheers.)
-The jury were exempt for seven years.'
-
-All bowed; the Judge passed to the robing-room,
-Dismissed his clerks, disrobed, and knelt and prayed
-As was his custom after passing doom,
-Doom upon life, upon the thing not made.
-'O God, who made us out of dust, and laid
-Thee in us bright, to lead us to the truth,
-O God, have pity upon this poor youth.
-
-Show him Thy grace, O God, before he die;
-Shine in his heart; have mercy upon me,
-Who deal the laws men make to travel by
-Under the sun upon the path to Thee;
-O God Thou knowest I'm as blind as he,
-As blind, as frantic, not so single, worse,
-Only Thy pity spared me from the curse.
-
-Thy pity, and Thy mercy, God, did save,
-Thy bounteous gifts, not any grace of mine,
-From all the pitfalls leading to the grave,
-From all the death-feasts with the husks and swine.
-God, who hast given me all things, now make shine
-Bright in this sinner's heart that he may see.
-God, take this poor boy's spirit back to Thee.'
-
-Then trembling with his hands, for he was old,
-He went to meet his college friend, the Dean,
-The loiterers watched him as his carriage rolled.
-'There goes the Judge,' said one, and one was keen:
-'Hanging that wretched boy, that's where he's been.'
-A policeman spat, two lawyers talked statistics,
-'"Crime passionel" in Agricultural Districts.'
-
-'They'd oughtn't hang a boy': but one said 'Stuff.
-This sentimental talk is rotten, rotten.
-The law's the law and not half strict enough,
-Forgers and murderers are misbegotten,
-Let them be hanged and let them be forgotten.
-A rotten fool should have a rotten end;
-Mend them, you say?  The rotten never mend.'
-
-And one 'Not mend?  The rotten not, perhaps.
-The rotting would; so would the just infected.
-A week in quod has ruined lots of chaps
-Who'd all got good in them till prison wrecked it.'
-And one, 'Society must be protected.'
-'He's just a kid.  She trapped him.'  'No, she didden.'
-'He'll be reprieved.'  'He mid be and he midden.'
-
-So the talk went; and Anna took the train,
-Too sad for tears, and pale; a lady spoke
-Asking if she were ill or suffering pain?
-'Neither,' she said; but sorrow made her choke,
-'I'm only sick because my heart is broke.
-My friend, a man, my oldest friend here, died.
-I had to see the man who killed him, tried.
-
-He's to be hanged.  Only a boy.  My friend.
-I thought him just a boy; I didn't know.
-And Ern was killed, and now the boy's to end,
-And all because he thought he loved me so.'
-'My dear,' the lady said; and Anna, 'Oh.
-It's very hard to bear the ills men make,
-He thought he loved, and it was all mistake.'
-
-'My dear,' the lady said; 'you poor, poor woman,
-Have you no friends to go to?'  'I'm alone.
-I've parents living, but they're both inhuman,
-And none can cure what pierces to the bone.
-I'll have to leave and go where I'm not known.
-Begin my life again.'  Her friend said 'Yes.
-Certainly that.  But leave me your address:
-For I might hear of something; I'll enquire,
-Perhaps the boy might be reprieved or pardoned.
-Couldn't we ask the rector or the squire
-To write and ask the Judge?  He can't be hardened.
-What do you do?  Is it housework?  Have you gardened?
-Your hands are very white and soft to touch.'
-'Lately I've not had heart for doing much.'
-
-So the talk passes as the train descends
-Into the vale and halts and starts to climb
-To where the apple-bearing country ends
-And pleasant-pastured hills rise sweet with thyme,
-Where clinking sheepbells make a broken chime
-And sunwarm gorses rich the air with scent
-And kestrels poise for mice, there Anna went.
-
-There, in the April, in the garden-close,
-One heard her in the morning singing sweet,
-Calling the birds from the unbudded rose,
-Offering her lips with grains for them to eat.
-The redbreasts come with little wiry feet,
-Sparrows and tits and all wild feathery things,
-Brushing her lifted face with quivering wings.
-
-Jimmy was taken down into a cell,
-He did not need a hand, he made no fuss.
-The men were kind 'for what the kid done ... well
-The same might come to any one of us.'
-They brought him bits of cake at tea time: thus
-The love that fashioned all in human ken,
-Works in the marvellous hearts of simple men.
-
-And in the nights (they watched him night and day)
-They told him bits of stories through the grating,
-Of how the game went at the football play,
-And how the rooks outside had started mating.
-And all the time they knew the rope was waiting,
-And every evening friend would say to friend,
-'I hope we've not to drag him at the end.'
-
-And poor old mother came to see her son,
-'The Lord has gave,' she said, 'The Lord has took;
-I loved you very dear, my darling one,
-And now there's none but God where we can look.
-We've got God's promise written in His Book,
-He will not fail; but oh, it do seem hard.'
-She hired a room outside the prison yard.
-
-'Where did you get the money for the room?
-And how are you living, mother; how'll you live?'
-'It's what I'd saved to put me in the tomb,
-I'll want no tomb but what the parish give.'
-'Mother, I lied to you that time, O forgive,
-I brought home half my wages, half I spent,
-And you went short that week to pay the rent.
-
-I went to see'r, I spent my money on her,
-And you who bore me paid the cost in pain.
-You went without to buy the clothes upon her:
-A hat, a locket, and a silver chain.
-O mother dear, if all might be again,
-Only from last October, you and me;
-O mother dear, how different it would be.
-
-We were so happy in the room together,
-Singing at "Binger-Bopper," weren't us, just?
-And going a-hopping in the summer weather,
-And all the hedges covered white with dust,
-And blackberries, and that, and traveller's trust.
-I thought her wronged, and true, and sweet, and wise,
-The devil takes sweet shapes when he tells lies.
-
-Mother, my dear, will you forgive your son?'
-'God knows I do, Jim, I forgive you, dear;
-You didn't know, and couldn't, what you done.
-God pity all poor people suffering here,
-And may His mercy shine upon us clear,
-And may we have His Holy Word for mark,
-To lead us to His Kingdom through the dark.'
-
-'Amen.'  'Amen,' said Jimmy; then they kissed.
-The warders watched, the little larks were singing,
-A plough team jangled, turning at the rist;
-Beyond, the mild cathedral bells were ringing,
-The elm-tree rooks were cawing at the springing:
-O beauty of the time when winter's done,
-And all the fields are laughing at the sun!
-
-'I s'pose they've brought the line beyond the Knapp?'
-'Ah, and beyond the Barcle, so they say.'
-'Hearing the rooks begin reminds a chap.
-Look queer, the street will, with the lock away;
-O God, I'll never see it.'  'Let us pray.
-Don't think of that, but think,' the mother said,
-'Of men going on long after we are dead.
-
-Red helpless little things will come to birth,
-And hear the whistles going down the line,
-And grow up strong and go about the earth,
-And have much happier times than yours and mine;
-And some day one of them will get a sign,
-And talk to folk, and put an end to sin,
-And then God's blessed kingdom will begin.
-
-God dropped a spark down into everyone,
-And if we find and fan it to a blaze
-It'll spring up and glow like--like the sun,
-And light the wandering out of stony ways.
-God warms His hands at man's heart when he prays,
-And light of prayer is spreading heart to heart;
-It'll light all where now it lights a part.
-
-And God who gave His mercies takes His mercies,
-And God who gives beginning gives the end.
-I dread my death; but it's the end of curses,
-A rest for broken things too broke to mend.
-O Captain Christ, our blessed Lord and Friend,
-We are two wandered sinners in the mire,
-Burn our dead hearts with love out of Thy fire.
-
-And when thy death comes, Master, let us bear it
-As of Thy will, however hard to go;
-Thy Cross is infinite for us to share it,
-Thy help is infinite for us to know.
-And when the long trumpets of the Judgment blow
-May our poor souls be glad and meet agen,
-And rest in Thee.'  'Say, "Amen," Jim.'  'Amen.'
-
-*      *      *      *      *
-
-There was a group outside the prison gate,
-Waiting to hear them ring the passing bell,
-Waiting as empty people always wait
-For the strong toxic of another's hell.
-And mother stood there, too, not seeing well,
-Praying through tears to let His will be done,
-And not to hide His mercy from her son.
-
-Talk in the little group was passing quick.
-'It's nothing now to what it was, to watch.'
-'Poor wretched kid, I bet he's feeling sick.'
-'Eh?  What d'you say, chaps?  Someone got a match?'
-'They draw a bolt and drop you down a hatch
-And break your neck, whereas they used to strangle
-In olden times, when you could see them dangle.'
-
-Some one said, 'Off hats' when the bell began.
-Mother was whimpering now upon her knees.
-A broken ringing like a beaten pan
-It sent the sparrows wavering to the trees.
-The wall-top grasses whickered in the breeze,
-The broken ringing clanged, clattered and clanged
-As though men's bees were swarming, not men hanged.
-
-Now certain Justice with the pitiless knife.
-The white sick chaplain snuffling at the nose.
-'I am the resurrection and the life.'
-The bell still clangs, the small procession goes,
-The prison warders ready ranged in rows.
-'Now, Gurney, come, my dear; it's time,' they said.
-And ninety seconds later he was dead.
-
-Some of life's sad ones are too strong to die,
-Grief doesn't kill them as it kills the weak,
-Sorrow is not for those who sit and cry
-Lapped in the love of turning t'other cheek,
-But for the noble souls austere and bleak
-Who have had the bitter dose and drained the cup
-And wait for Death face fronted, standing up.
-
-As the last man upon the sinking ship,
-Seeing the brine creep brightly on the deck,
-Hearing aloft the slatting topsails rip,
-Ripping to rags among the topmast's wreck,
-Yet hoists the new red ensign without speck,
-That she, so fair, may sink with colours flying,
-So the old widowed mother kept from dying.
-
-She tottered home, back to the little room,
-It was all over for her, but for life;
-She drew the blinds, and trembled in the gloom;
-'I sat here thus when I was wedded wife;
-Sorrow sometimes, and joy; but always strife.
-Struggle to live except just at the last,
-O God, I thank Thee for the mercies past.
-
-Harry, my man, when we were courting; eh...
-The April morning up the Cony-gree.
-How grand he looked upon our wedding day.
-"I wish we'd had the bells," he said to me;
-And we'd the moon that evening, I and he,
-And dew come wet, oh, I remember how,
-And we come home to where I'm sitting now.
-
-And he lay dead here, and his son was born here;
-He never saw his son, his little Jim.
-And now I'm all alone here, left to mourn here,
-And there are all his clothes, but never him.
-He's down under the prison in the dim,
-With quicklime working on him to the bone,
-The flesh I made with many and many a groan.
-
-Oh, how his little face come, with bright hair,
-Dear little face.  We made this room so snug;
-He sit beside me in his little chair,
-I give him real tea sometimes in his mug.
-He liked the velvet in the patchwork rug.
-He used to stroke it, did my pretty son,
-He called it Bunny, little Jimmie done.
-
-And then he ran so, he was strong at running,
-Always a strong one, like his dad at that.
-In summertimes I done my sewing sunning,
-And he'd be sprawling, playing with the cat.
-And neighbours brought their knitting out to chat
-Till five o'clock; he had his tea at five;
-How sweet life was when Jimmy was alive.'
-
-*      *      *      *      *
-
-Darkness and midnight, and the midnight chimes.
-Another four-and-twenty hours begin,
-Darkness again, and many, many times,
-The alternating light and darkness spin
-Until the face so thin is still more thin,
-Gazing each earthly evening wet or fine
-For Jimmy coming from work along the line.
-
-Over her head the Chester wires hum,
-Under the bridge the rocking engines flash.
-'He's very late this evening, but he'll come
-And bring his little packet full of cash
-(Always he does) and supper's cracker hash,
-That is his favourite food excepting bacon.
-They say my boy was hanged; but they're mistaken.
-
-And sometimes she will walk the cindery mile,
-Singing, as she and Jimmy used to do,
-Singing 'The parson's dog lep over a stile,'
-Along the path where water lilies grow.
-The stars are placid on the evening's blue,
-Burning like eyes so calm, so unafraid,
-On all that God has given and man has made.
-
-Burning they watch, and mothlike owls come out,
-The redbreast warbles shrilly once and stops;
-The homing cowman gives his dog a shout,
-The lamps are lighted in the village shops.
-Silence; the last bird passes; in the copse
-The hazels cross the moon, a nightjar spins,
-Dew wets the grass, the nightingale begins.
-
-Singing her crazy song the mother goes,
-Singing as though her heart were full of peace,
-Moths knock the petals from the dropping rose,
-Stars make the glimmering pool a golden fleece,
-The moon droops west, but still she does not cease,
-The little mice peep out to hear her sing,
-Until the inn-man's cockerel shakes his wing.
-
-And in the sunny dawns of hot Julys,
-The labourers going to meadow see her there.
-Rubbing the sleep out of their heavy eyes,
-They lean upon the parapet to stare;
-They see her plaiting basil in her hair,
-Basil, the dark red wound-wort, cops of clover,
-The blue self-heal and golden Jacks of Dover.
-
-Dully they watch her, then they turn to go
-To that high Shropshire upland of late hay;
-Her singing lingers with them as they mow,
-And many times they try it, now grave, now gay,
-Till, with full throat, over the hills away,
-They lift it clear; oh, very clear it towers
-Mixed with the swish of many falling flowers.
-
-
-
-
-'The Widow in the Bye Street' first appeared in _The English Review_ for
-February 1912.  I thank the editor and proprietors of the _Review_ for
-permitting me to reprint it here.
-
-The persons and events described in the poem are entirely imaginary, and
-no reference is made or intended to any living person.
-
-JOHN MASEFIELD.
-10*th May* 1912.
-
-
-
-
-THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH
-
-
-
-
-           *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *
-
-
-
-
-
-
-                             JOHN MASEFIELD
-
-
-                         THE EVERLASTING MERCY
-
-            Fifth Impression.  Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. net
-
-
-                       SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS
-
-"Mr Masefield is to be congratulated on a remarkable achievement--a
-vital portrait of a man, the drama of a great spiritual conquest, and
-many passages of high beauty."--_Spectator_.
-
-"This is probably the most important addition to English religious
-poetry since Francis Thompson wrote 'The Hound of Heaven.'  'The
-Everlasting Mercy' is the story of a conversion; not the 'interesting'
-conversion of some cultured and introspective Agnostic, full of wise
-saws and modern instances, but the sensational, primitive, catastrophic
-conversion of a village wastrel, violent alike in body, mind and soul--a
-drunkard, poacher, bully and libertine....  In it Mr Masefield has
-accomplished two separate things.  He has written a superb poem, swift
-in its pace and vivid in its phrasing, and produced as well a
-psychological document of surpassing interest....  He has brought the
-flaming torch of beauty to light the dry processes of the religious
-psychologist."--EVELYN UNDERHILL in _The Daily News_.
-
-"Here, beyond question, in 'The Everlasting Mercy,' is a great poem, as
-true to the essentials of its ancient art as it is astoundingly modern
-in its method; a poem, too, which 'every clergyman in the country ought
-to read as a revelation of the heathenism still left in the land.' ...
-Its technical force is on a level with its high, inspiring thought.  It
-makes the reader think; it goads him to emotion; and it leaves him alive
-with a fresh appreciation of the wonderful capacity of human nature to
-receive new influences and atone for old and apparently ineradicable
-wrongs."--ARTHUR WAUGH in _The Daily Chronicle_.
-
-
-
-                             JOHN MASEFIELD
-
-                    THE TRAGEDY OF POMPEY THE GREAT
-
-       Library Edition, 3s. 6d. net; paper wrappers, 1s. 6d. net
-                           Second Impression
-
-"Fine, nervous, dramatic English.  Words which eat into the soul, which
-have a meaning, which are revelatory of character.  A fine virility
-about the whole play and its conception.  An altogether admirable piece
-of writing which fully justifies Mr Masefield's real literary
-distinction."--_Observer_.
-
-"In this Roman tragedy, while we admire its closely knit structure,
-dramatic effectiveness, and atmosphere of reality ... the warmth and
-colour of the diction are the most notable things....  He knows the art
-of phrasing; he has the instinct for and by them."--_Athenaeum_.
-
-"The talk of Pompey, of Domitius, of Acilius, is not that of great
-lords, but rather of men like Hawkins and Drake.  This is the result of
-Mr Masefield's imaginative handling.  He sees them so, and so they live.
-They live indeed.  Their characters are clear and bold; they say nothing
-but what reveals them and helps to make the tragedy a rich as well as a
-moving thing.  It is poetry.  It is almost music, and on the first few
-pages there are notes that linger with us to the end, haunting us like
-the blowing of horns in an old and silent forest."--Mr EDWARD THOMAS in
-_The Daily Chronicle_.
-
-"He has written a great tragedy....  The dialogue is written in strong,
-simple, and nervous prose, flashing with poetic insight, significance,
-and suggestion.  The characters are intensely alive, the situations are
-handled by a master hand, and the whole play is pregnant with that high
-and solemn pathos which is the gift of the born writer of
-tragedies."--_Morning Post_.
-
-
-
-                   SIDGWICK & JACKSON'S MODERN DRAMA
-
-
-"Messrs Sidgwick & Jackson are choosing their plays
-excellently."--_Saturday Review_.
-
-"The distinction, which is quite appreciable, of being included in the
-series of modern plays published by Messrs Sidgwick & Jackson, in which
-there is nothing bad."--_Manchester Guardian_.
-
-
-THREE PLAYS BY GRANVILLE BARKER:
-
-"The Marrying of Ann Leete," "The Voysey Inheritance," and "Waste."  In
-one Vol., 5s. net; singly, cloth, 2s. net; paper wrappers, 1s. 6d. net.
-
-Third Impression.
-
-Special Edition, on hand-made paper, limited to 50 numbered copies,
-signed by the author, extra bound in three volumes, in a case, L1, 1s.
-net per set.
-
-"Mr Granville Barker, by virtue of these three plays alone,
-unquestionably ranks among the first of our serious literary
-dramatists."--_The Observer_.
-
-
-THE MADRAS HOUSE.  A Comedy in Four Acts.
-
-By GRANVILLE BARKER.  Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. net; paper wrappers, 1s. 6d.
-net.  Third Impression.
-
-"You can read 'The Madras House' at your leisure, dip into it here and
-there, turn a tit-bit over lovingly on the palate ... and the result is,
-in our experience, a round of pleasure.  'The Madras House' ... is so
-good in print that everybody should make a mental note to read
-it."--_The Times_.
-
-
-PRUNELLA; or, Love in a Dutch Garden.
-
-By LAURENCE HOUSMAN and GRANVILLE BARKER.  With a Frontispiece and Music
-to "Pierrot's Serenade," by JOSEPH MOORAT.  Fcap. 4to, 5s. net.  Theatre
-Edition, crown 8vo, wrappers, 1s. net.
-
-"A very charming love tale, which works slowly to a climax of great and
-touching beauty."--_Daily News_.
-
-
-CHAINS.  A Play in Four Acts.
-
-By ELIZABETH BAKER.  Crown 8vo, cloth, 1s. 6d. net; paper wrappers, 1s.
-net.
-
-Second Impression.
-
-"Nothing could be more free from stage artifices than Miss Baker's play.
-It is simplicity itself, both in its construction and its dialog.... But
-it is just the sort of play that one likes to buy and read, for it is
-real and alive, and a play full of ideas."--_The Daily Mail_.
-
-
-THE NEW SIN.  A Play in Three Acts.
-
-By BASIL MACDONALD HASTINGS.  Cloth, 2s. net; illustrated paper
-wrappers, 1s. net.
-
-"'The New Sin' will rank among the most remarkable plays of recent
-years."--_Morning Post_.
-
-"Enormously alive, interesting, varied, and stimulating."--_Evening
-Standard_.
-
-
-RUTHERFORD AND SON.  A Play in Three Acts.
-
-By GITHA SOWERBY.  Cloth, 2s. 6d. net.
-
-"Miss Sowerby's 'Rutherford and Son' is the best first play since
-'Chains' of Miss Elizabeth Baker....  These authors take you immediately
-by the ear, and limit their discourses strictly to the text....  These
-plays are really astonishing examples of what can be done in a modern
-theatre by keeping strictly to the point."--_Saturday Review_.
-
-"I have read few good acting plays which are so consecutive and
-satisfactory to read."--_T. P.'s Weekly_.
-
-
-LOVE--AND WHAT THEN?  A Comedy in Three Acts.  By BASIL MACDONALD
-HASTINGS.  Cloth, 2s. net.
-
-
-LORDS AND MASTERS.  By JAMES BYRNE.  Crown 8vo, cloth, 1s. 6d. net;
-paper, 1s. net.
-
-
-THE TRIAL OF JEANNE D'ARC.  By EDWARD GARNETT.  Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s.
-6d. net.
-
-
-MARY BROOME.  By A. N. MONKHOUSE.  Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. net; paper, 1s.
-6d. net.
-
-
-ANATOL.  A Sequence of Dialogues.  By ARTHUR SCHNITZLER.  Paraphrased
-for the English Stage by GRANVILLE BARKER.  Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. net;
-paper wrappers, 1s. 6d. net.  Second Impression.
-
-CONTENTS.--(I.) Ask no Questions and you'll hear no Stories--(II.) A
-Christmas Present--(III.) An Episode--(IV.) Keepsakes--(V.) A Farewell
-Supper--(VI.) Dying Pangs--(VII.) The Wedding Morning.
-
-
-PAINS AND PENALTIES: A Defence of Queen Caroline.  By LAURENCE HOUSMAN.
-Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. net.
-
-"This play has been censored.  It is a play by a poet and artist.  And
-it goes very deeply and hauntingly into the heart.  The note that it
-sounds is the note of Justice, and he would indeed be either a fearful
-or a fawning reader who could find aught to object to in it."--_The
-Observer_.
-
-
-THE CHINESE LANTERN.  A Play in Three Acts. By LAURENCE HOUSMAN.  Pott
-4to, 3s. 6d. net.
-
-
-THE WAY THE MONEY GOES.  A Play in Three Acts.  By LADY BELL.  Crown
-8vo, cloth, 1s. 6d. net; paper wrappers, 1s. net.
-
-
-THE COURT THEATRE, 1904-1907.  A Criticism and Commentary by DESMOND
-MACCARTHY.  With an Appendix of Reprinted Programmes of the
-Vedrenne-Barker Management.  2s. 6d. net.
-
-MAX BEERBOHM in _The Saturday Review_ says: "When Mr MacCarthy was
-writing weekly criticisms, I always turned in him as to one by whom an
-austere sobriety of judgment was surprisingly expressed in terms of
-youthful ardour.  In this book he is as ardent as ever, and as just; and
-his appreciation of Mr Shaw as dramatist seems to me both the most
-suggestive and the soundest that has been done yet."
-
-
-
-                           GENERAL LITERATURE
-
-
-THE GLORY THAT WAS GREECE: A Survey of Hellenic Culture.  By J. C.
-STOBART, M.A., Late Lecturer in History at Trinity College, Cambridge.
-Super-royal 8vo, profusely illustrated in Colour, Gravure and Line.
-Price, 30s. net.
-
-"Mr Stobart does a real service when he gives the reading but non-expert
-public this fine volume, embodying the latest results of research,
-blending them, too, into as agreeable a narrative as we have met with
-for a long while."--_Guardian_.
-
-
-THE GRANDEUR THAT WAS ROME.  By J. C. STOBART, M.A.  (Uniform with the
-above.) 30s. net.  Autumn 1912.
-
-
-SAILING SHIPS AND THEIR STORY.  By E. KEBLE CHATTERTON.  With a Colour
-Frontispiece by CHARLES DIXON, and over 130 Illustrations. Designed
-cover in cloth gilt, 16s. net.
-
-
-STEAM-SHIPS AND THEIR STORY.  By R. A. FLETCHER.  With a Coloured
-Frontispiece and 150 Illustrations.  Extra Royal 8vo, over 400 pages,
-designed cover, cloth gilt, 16s. net.
-
-Uniform with "Sailing Ships and Their Story."
-
-
-THE LIFE-BOAT AND ITS STORY.  By NOEL T. METHLEY, F.R.G.S.  With 70
-Illustrations.  Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, 7s. 6d. net.
-
-
-BRITAIN'S RECORD: What She has done for the World.  By E. KEBLE
-CHATTERTON.  Demy 8vo, illustrated.  7s. 6d. net.
-
-
-
-                        SIDGWICK & JACKSON LTD.
-                      3 ADAM STREET, LONDON, W.C.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIDOW IN THE BYE STREET ***
-
-
-
-
-A Word from Project Gutenberg
-
-
-We will update this book if we find any errors.
-
-This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41468
-
-Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one
-owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and
-you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission
-and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules, set forth in the
-General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and
-distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the
-Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a
-registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks,
-unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything
-for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may
-use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative
-works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and
-printed and given away - you may do practically _anything_ with public
-domain eBooks.  Redistribution is subject to the trademark license,
-especially commercial redistribution.
-
-
-
-The Full Project Gutenberg License
-
-
-_Please read this before you distribute or use this work._
-
-To protect the Project Gutenberg(tm) mission of promoting the free
-distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or
-any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
-Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
-Gutenberg(tm) License available with this file or online at
-http://www.gutenberg.org/license.
-
-
-Section 1. General Terms of Use & Redistributing Project Gutenberg(tm)
-electronic works
-
-
-*1.A.* By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg(tm)
-electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
-and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
-(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the
-terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all
-copies of Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works in your possession. If
-you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
-Gutenberg(tm) electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
-terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
-entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
-
-*1.B.* "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
-used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
-agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things
-that you can do with most Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works even
-without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph
-1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
-Gutenberg(tm) electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
-and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic
-works. See paragraph 1.E below.
-
-*1.C.* The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the
-Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of
-Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works. Nearly all the individual works
-in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
-individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
-located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you
-from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating
-derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project
-Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the
-Project Gutenberg(tm) mission of promoting free access to electronic
-works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg(tm) works in compliance with
-the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg(tm) name
-associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this
-agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full
-Project Gutenberg(tm) License when you share it without charge with
-others.
-
-
-*1.D.* The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
-what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
-a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
-the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
-before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
-creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
-Gutenberg(tm) work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
-the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
-States.
-
-*1.E.* Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
-
-*1.E.1.* The following sentence, with active links to, or other
-immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg(tm) License must appear
-prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg(tm) work (any work
-on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the
-phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed,
-performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
-
-    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-    almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
-    or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
-    included with this eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org
-
-*1.E.2.* If an individual Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic work is
-derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating
-that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can
-be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying
-any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a
-work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on
-the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs
-1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
-Project Gutenberg(tm) trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
-1.E.9.
-
-*1.E.3.* If an individual Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic work is
-posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and
-distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and
-any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
-will be linked to the Project Gutenberg(tm) License for all works posted
-with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of
-this work.
-
-*1.E.4.* Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project
-Gutenberg(tm) License terms from this work, or any files containing a
-part of this work or any other work associated with Project
-Gutenberg(tm).
-
-*1.E.5.* Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
-electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
-prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
-active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
-Gutenberg(tm) License.
-
-*1.E.6.* You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
-compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
-word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
-distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg(tm) work in a format other than
-"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
-posted on the official Project Gutenberg(tm) web site
-(http://www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or
-expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a
-means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original
-"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include
-the full Project Gutenberg(tm) License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
-
-*1.E.7.* Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
-performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg(tm) works
-unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
-
-*1.E.8.* You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
-access to or distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works
-provided that
-
-  - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
-    the use of Project Gutenberg(tm) works calculated using the method
-    you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
-    to the owner of the Project Gutenberg(tm) trademark, but he has
-    agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
-    Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
-    within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
-    legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
-    payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
-    Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
-    Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
-    Literary Archive Foundation."
-
-  - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
-    you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
-    does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg(tm)
-    License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
-    copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
-    all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg(tm)
-    works.
-
-  - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
-    any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
-    electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
-    receipt of the work.
-
-  - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
-    distribution of Project Gutenberg(tm) works.
-
-
-*1.E.9.* If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
-Gutenberg(tm) electronic work or group of works on different terms than
-are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
-from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
-Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg(tm) trademark. Contact the
-Foundation as set forth in Section 3. below.
-
-*1.F.*
-
-*1.F.1.* Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
-effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
-public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg(tm) collection.
-Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works, and the
-medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but
-not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription
-errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a
-defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer
-codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
-
-*1.F.2.* LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
-of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
-Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
-Gutenberg(tm) trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
-Gutenberg(tm) electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
-liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees.
-YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY,
-BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN
-PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND
-ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR
-ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES
-EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.
-
-*1.F.3.* LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
-defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
-receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
-written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
-received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
-your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
-the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
-refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
-providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
-receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
-is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
-opportunities to fix the problem.
-
-*1.F.4.* Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
-in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER
-WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
-WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
-
-*1.F.5.* Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
-warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
-If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
-law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
-interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
-the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
-provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
-
-*1.F.6.* INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
-trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
-providing copies of Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works in accordance
-with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
-promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works,
-harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
-that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
-or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg(tm)
-work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
-Project Gutenberg(tm) work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
-
-
-Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg(tm)
-
-
-Project Gutenberg(tm) is synonymous with the free distribution of
-electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
-including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
-because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
-people in all walks of life.
-
-Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
-assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg(tm)'s
-goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg(tm) collection will remain
-freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg
-Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and
-permanent future for Project Gutenberg(tm) and future generations. To
-learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and
-how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the
-Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org .
-
-
-Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
-Foundation
-
-
-The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
-501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state
-of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue
-Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is
-64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
-http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf . Contributions to the
-Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the
-full extent permitted by U.S.  federal laws and your state's laws.
-
-The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr.
-S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
-throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809
-North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
-business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
-information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page
-at http://www.pglaf.org
-
-For additional contact information:
-
-    Dr. Gregory B. Newby
-    Chief Executive and Director
-    gbnewby@pglaf.org
-
-
-Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
-Archive Foundation
-
-
-Project Gutenberg(tm) depends upon and cannot survive without wide
-spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
-increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
-freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
-array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
-($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
-status with the IRS.
-
-The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
-charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
-States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
-considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
-with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where
-we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
-DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
-visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
-
-While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
-have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
-against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
-approach us with offers to donate.
-
-International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any
-statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside
-the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
-
-Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
-methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways
-including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate,
-please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
-
-
-Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic
-works.
-
-
-Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg(tm)
-concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
-with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
-Gutenberg(tm) eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
-
-Project Gutenberg(tm) eBooks are often created from several printed
-editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. unless
-a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks
-in compliance with any particular paper edition.
-
-Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's eBook
-number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
-compressed (zipped), HTML and others.
-
-Corrected _editions_ of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
-the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed.
-_Versions_ based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
-new filenames and etext numbers.
-
-Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
-
-    http://www.gutenberg.org
-
-This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg(tm),
-including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
-Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
-subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.