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I feared to see my mother's tears, my father's agony,
Yet still my eyes looked wistfully across the ocean-tide,
I knew that dark green ivy-tower, I knew the house of God, To which so oft in sinless joy my boyhood's steps had trod; Where youth's first breath of prayer and praise had risen up on high, Pure as the dew-drop of the morn exhaled to the sky.
And many of my early loved were sleeping all around
I gazed upon the moonbeam pale, till, to my aching eyes,
As gliding from my aching sight, the wan, pale figure passed,
EXTRACT FROM SPEED THE PLOUGH.
Sir Philip Blandford and Farmer Ashfield. Sir Philip.—Come hither. I believe you hold a farm of mine?
Ashfield.-Ees, zur, I do, at your zarvice. Sir Philip.-I hope a profitable one ? Ashfield.-Zometimes it be zur. But thic year, it be all t'other way as twur—but I do hope, as our landlords have a tightish big lump of the good, they'll be zo kind hearted as to take a little bit of the bad.
Sir Philip. It is but reasonable. I conclude then, you are in my debt.
Ashfield.-Ees, zur, I be-at your zarvice.
Ashfield.—Sir, I do owe ye a hundred and fifty pounds-at your zarvice.
Sir Philip.- Which you can't pay. Ashfield.-Not a varthing, zur-at your zarvice. Sir Philip.-Well, I am willing to give you every indulgence. Ashfield. Be you, zur? that be deadlý kind.—'Dear heart ! it will make my auld dame quite young again, and don't think helping a poor man will do your honour's health any arm- -I don't indeed, zur— I had a thought of speaking to your worship about it—but then thinks I, the gentleman, mayhap, be one of those that do like to do a good turn, and not to have a word zaid about it—zo, if you had not mentioned what I owed you, I am zure I never should-should not, indeed zur.
Sir Philip.-Nay, I will wholly acquit you of the debt, on condition
Sir Philip.-On condition, I say, you instantly turn out that boy—that Henry.
Ashfield.-Turn out Henry! Ha, ha, ha! Excuse my tittering, zur ; but you bees making your vun of I, zure.
Sir Philip. I am not apt to trifle. Send him instantly from you, or take the consequences.
Ashfield.-Turn out Henry! I vow I shou’dn't knaw how to zet
about it-I should not, indeed zur.
Sir Philip.—You hear my determination. If you disobey, you know what will follow. I'll leave you to reflect on it. (Exit.
Ashfield.-Well, zur, l'll argufy the topic, and then you may wait upon me, and I'll tell ye. (Makes the motion of turning out.)-I should be deadly awkward at it vor zartin.--However, I'll put the case. Well, I goes whiztling whoam-noa, drabbit it, I shou’dn't be able to whiztle a bit, I'm zure. Well, I goes whoam, and I sees Henry zitting by my wife, mixing up someit to comfort the wold zool, and take away the pain of her rhumatics. Very well, then Henry places a chair vor I by the vire zide, and zays—“ Varmer, the horses be fed, the sheep be folded, and you have nothing to do but zit down, smoke your pipe, and be happy !" Very well, (becomes affected) Then I zays
Henry, you be poor and friendless, zo you must turn out of my houze directly.” Very well, then my wife stares at I-reaches her hand towards the vire place, and throws the poker at my head. Very well, then Henry gives a kind of anguish shake, and getting up sighs from the bottom of his heart—then holding up his head like a king, says—“ Varmer, I have too long been a burthen to you—Heaven protect you as you have me. Farewell! I go.” Then I says, “ If thee does I'll be domn’d,” (with great energy.) Hollo ; you Mr. Sir Philip ! you may come in.
(Enter Sir Philip Blandford.
Zur, I have argufied the topic, and it wou'd'nt be pratty--zo can't Sir Philip.-Can't ! absurd ! Ashfield.-Well, zur, there is but another word-I won't., Sir Philip.-Indeed !
Ashfield.—No, zur, I won't ;—I'd zee myself hang'd first, and you too, zur—I would indeed (bowing.)
Sir Philip:-You refuse then to obey.
Ashfield.-I be very zorry for that too—I be, indeed zur ; but if corn wou'd’nt grow, I cou’dn't help it; it wer'n't poison'd by the hand that zowd it. Thic hand, zir, be as free from guilt as your own.
Sir Philip.--Oh! (sighing deeply.)
Ashfield.-It were never held out to clinch a hard bargain, nor will it turn a good lad out into the wicked world, because he be poorish a bit. I be zorry you be offended, zur, quite—but come what wool, I'll never hit thic hand against here, but when I be zure that someit at inzide will jump against it with pleasure (bowing.) I do hope you'll repent of all your zins—I do, indeed, zur ; and if you shou'd, I'll come and see you again as friendly as ever--I wool, indeed, zur.
Sir Philip.-Your repentance will come too late ! (Exit. Ashfield.
Thank ye, zur-good morning to you—I do hope I have made mysel agreeable-and so I'll go whoam. (Exit.
THE TINKER AND GLAZIER.
SINCE gratitude, 'tis said, is not o'er common,
And friendly acts are pretty near as few;
With Turk, with Pagan, Christian, and with Jew;
Of these rare qualities a slender sample,
And try the boasted influence of example.
It can't, at any rate, do much harm.
One, Glazier Dick, the other Tom the Tinker;
Their ale they quaff'd,
They both agreed 'tis said,
They jok'd, sung, laughed,
Glisten'd to see them the brown pitcher hug,
Had this blithe ending- Bring us t'other mug.'
And at the tinker winks,
As 'trade's success! he drinks,
His friendship, too, display'd,
And drank success to trade!'
How long and rueful his round visage grew,
Solder the only fluid he could view..
All trades, you know, must live;
The job to Tom then give;
Each might be call'd a loving brother ;
And one good turn, in truth, deserves another.
But not a word he said,
The plot was in his head, And off he nimbly trips,
Swift to a neighbouring church his way he takes;
Nor in the dark,
Misses his mark,
Back as he goes,
His bosom glows,
Importance in his face;
Thus briefly states the case !
I've done your business most complete, my friend:
Each window in the church you've got to mend
If for your sake I have not broke them all.'
Who deeply sighs ‘0, la !'
Then drops his under jaw,
Share with his heart,
Dick's unknown smart,
For let me act the best I can,
Tom, Tom, I am a ruin'd man.
THE DEAD DONKEY.
He was stretched at full length beside the ditch where he died. A half-finished house the back-ground seemed to rejoice in the fate of the poor animal; maliciously displayed on a board, whereon was legibly written
THIS CARCASS TO BE SOLD !" The sturdy thistle boldly reared its head in its vicinity, fearless of the donkey's pluck.