(_A Traveller's Thank-Offering._)
Faith! I feared I was bound for that general bourne, which we all
must approach through one narrow gate,
But, oh! once again I have felt heart and brain hurried up by the
waters of Harrogate.
(Here's jolly good luck to them!)
Doctor BLACK of that place of my bothersome case did _not_ make a
muddle or mull, for,
I owe strength of limb, heart and stomach, to him, and those
terrible doses of sulphur!
(And stoutly I _stuck_ to them.)
And true gratitude rules at present my mood (though gratitude's
rather a rarity),
And that's why I'd say just a good word to-day for an excellent
Harrogate charity,
(A regular A-Wonner!)
That fine Yorkshire Home for Incurables! Come, ye who've got from
the sulphur springs benefit,
And put in your "mite" in the slot, which will quite hold a pound,
yet a shilling or penny fit.
(You just ask the "Stunner!")
The Duchess of DEVONSHIRE opened the _fête_ and bazaar, driving
over from Bolton,
The Abbey, you know, a most picturesque show, which the tourist has
got a firm "holt" on,
(I use the vernacular!)
Her Grace by her kirtle had good Dr. MYRTLE, who unto the Tykes
introduced her,
And when that she pleaded for funds sorely needed I hoped there
were few who refused her.
(That's neat and oracular!)
The good _Yorkshire Post_ says the Home may well boast of much
honoured names as subscribers,
And Alderman FORTUNE (appropriate name!) and SAVERY (two
blameless bribers
Of folks to do duty)
Spake up for the Home. Shall poor invalids roam, in pain, and
alone and untended,
When at brave Harrogate it may be their kind fate to be doctored,
and fed, and befriended?
(By Wisdom _and_ Beauty!)
Doctors MYRTLE and SOLLY, it makes me feel jolly--by sulphur wells
made sulphur weller--
To say a good word! Mr. JOSHUA WHITWORTH--Hon. Sec.--is "a jolly
good feller"
(And so's Miss M. SMITH).
The Leeds Engineers' Band was all there, gay and grand, and Sir
--what was it?--ha!--MATTHEW DODSWORTH,
Not lengthily clatters about such Home matters, he knows what a
wink or a nod's worth
(In point there is pith).
Oh, MYRTLE! Oh, BLACK! Should I ever come back to that
doctor-ruled, sulphur-drenched region,
May potions and baths, and those brisk plateau-paths cure my
pains as before, though they're legion
(And spare me that narrow gate).
But--here's to that Home for Incurables! Rome was not built in a
day, so they tell us,
But Charity always beginneth at home, and I'd say, if Bath will
not be jealous--
That Home is--at Harrogate!
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