every corner;
It must have been left behind!"
The miners were stamping and shouting,
They were not patient men;
The clown bent over the cradle--
"I must take _you_, little Ben."

The mother started and shivered,
But trouble and want were near;
She lifted her baby gently;
"You'll be very careful, dear?"
"Careful? You foolish darling"--
How tenderly it was said!
What a smile shone thro' the chalk and paint--
"I love each hair of his head!"

The noise rose into an uproar,
Misrule for a time was king;
The clown with a foolish chuckle,
Bolted into the ring.
But as, with a squeak and flourish,
The fiddles closed their tune,
"You hold him as if he was made of glass!"
Said the clown to the pantaloon.

The jovial fellow nodded;
"I've a couple myself," he said,
"I know how to handle 'em, bless you;
Old fellow, go ahead!"
The fun grew fast and furious,
And not one of all the crowd
Had guessed that the baby was alive,
When he suddenly laughed aloud.

Oh, that baby laugh! it was echoed
From the benches with a ring,
And the roughest customer there sprang up
With "Boys, it's the real thing!"
The ring was jammed in a minute,
Not a man that did not strive
For "a shot at holding the baby"--
The baby that was "alive!"

He was thronged by kneeling suitors
In the midst of the dusty ring,
And he held his court right royally,
The fair little baby king;
Till one of the shouting courtiers,
A man with a bold, hard face,
The talk for miles of the country
And the terror of the place,

Raised the little king to his shoulder,
And chuckled, "Look at that!"
As the chubby fingers clutched his hair,
Then, "Boys, hand round the hat!"
There never was such a hatful
Of silver, and gold, and notes;
People are not always penniless
Because they won't wear coats!

And then "Three cheers for the baby!"
I tell you those cheers were meant,
And the way in which they were given
Was enough to raise the tent.
And then there was