Reflections.

Gisborne Standard and Cook County Gazette, Volume IV, Issue 519, 16 October 1890, Page 3

Reflections.

lines SLG(SESTJ;D to fancy on seeing PICTL'RE OF OLIVER TWIST.

[By a correspondent.]

Poor Oliver Twist held in his fist an empty basin bare. On the colil stone floor, behind the door, stood a stenming copper, where Porridge served liot from that tempting pot to each hungry boy in that den, Whose eager gaze at the misty haz ?, hungrily said, May I come once again. Ah! those ill-fed boys, with tears in their eyes, look on in sore amaze At poor Oliver, who stood, and his spoon of wood by his s de on the floor lays, As dread Misses Squecrs through the doorappears all taken aback with sui jmse ; With a blow and a curse that made Oliver worse, she quickly opened his eyes. There can be no good in heating your blood, young dumpling, to him she tlren said, Lo mind what I say, at each meal in the day my chickens will but once bo fed. If you don’t feed spare, I vow and declare I’ll break

every bone; then she swore Such a terrible oath, that made Oliver lotli ever to ask her for more. With long fingers spare she lugged his hair, and bright tears stood in his eyes. I can t stand this from Master, Misses, and Miss, though I belong to the charity boys. So he misled and fled, and with tramp and head he reached London town, Where he learned very well to buy and to sell, and at last in comfort sat down.

Now all scholarly Squeers who think your the peers of every £ny in the school, Don't thra h too hard any poor dull card—you know it's against the rule.

While you scr .tch yo.ir pate with a smile sedate, a question of you I ask ( To reme > her and try, that when you were a boy you didn’t like too hard a-t isk.

Should chance bring there a y hungry and bare, your hands in your pockets then pluck ; Treat them to lo.lies and cake, 1 make no mistake, they’ll gather like flies in a ruck. There’s plenty of recruits for breeches and boots, as you'll see if you just lo k aroun>t. You need n t pause to find out the cause—it’s apparent to all, I’ll be bound. For whilst banks charge a lent of £l5 per cent.—a gross imposture I’m sure, No penpie can thrive, howe’er they may strive, or such very bad laws long endure/ Some say it is rum—no the t ines are too glum, you can’t write it down to that score. It’s just paper and pelf looking after itself, makes folks so dreadfully poor. Just hear Arthur spout, how it’s brought about ask Whitmore and Ormond and other. Split the County, you say, left us the taxes to pav.and of schemes they’ ze got yet another, Till like Oliver Twist we hold in our a heritage lem and bare, Which most folks in the land don’t understand—Mr Editor, a fact T declare. If the fatherhood of God, and man’s brotherhood be a truth, ks some people cry, why not adopt Bellamy’s ideal politics real, I write these last words with a sigh