, if tha'll goa
an' shooit all t' 'monkeys' off iv'ry one o' t' haases, fra t' top ta t'
bottom o' t' street, tha'll be a varry fair shot when tha's finished."
Bob, I believe in the goodness of his heart, set out to find the monkeys,
but without success, and he returned to tell his "instructor" that he
"hed been i' iv'ry harse i' t' street, but noan on 'em hed a monkey in
it." Barber, notwithstanding, maintained that there was a monkey on t'
top o' nearly every house; and Bob felt that he had been nicely "taken
in" when the sort of monkeys alluded to was explained to him. It was
common knowledge at that time that every--or nearly every--house in
Devonshire-street had a "monkey" (_i.e._ a mortgage) on it. The incident
was the subject of much fun for a long time afterwards--Bob Brigg and his
monkey-shooting. But Barber did really teach "the young idea to shoot,"
taking Bob with him on several shooting expeditions.

"WHEN GREEN LEAVES COME AGAIN"

Perhaps the following unpublished poem, which I wrote some years ago,
will not be inappropriate at this season; it will "go" to the tune of the
old English ballad, "The dawning of the day":--

As I walk out one winter's morn,
Along the Steeton Ing,
And as I gaze me all around
Romantic ideas spring.
I think upon my past career,
With antics all in vain;--
But I will be a better lad
When green leaves come again.

The little birds I cannot see,
Excepting now and then;
For they are far beyond the sea
And left the haunts of men.
The trees are bare, and every bush
Speaks out to me so plain--
That I should be a better lad
When green leaves come again.

The fields are like a silvery lake,
The mountain tops are white,
And rear their heads majestically--
To me a great delight;
And as I gaze on Rivock End,
Across the silvery plain,
Methinks I hear a voice speak out--
"Green leaves will come again."

Green leaves came, and green leaves went,
And they are gone once more,
And I have never kept my vow,
Which makes my heart full sore.
But I will never "dee i' t' shell,"
But make that vow again--
That I will be a better lad
When green leaves come again.

And should I tarry here a while
To see the smiling scene,
When nature takes her snow-white cloth
And cha