No, Sir! poor fellow,.. he was wise enough
To be content at home, and 't was a home
As comfortable, Sir! even though I say it,
As any in the country. He was left
A little boy when his poor father died,
Just old enough to totter by himself,
And call his mother's name. We two were all,
And as we were not left quite destitute,
We bore up well. In the summer time I work'd
Sometimes a-field. Then I was famed for knitting,
And in long winter nights my spinning wheel
Seldom stood still. We had kind neighbours too,
And never felt distress. So he grew up
A comely lad, and wonderous well disposed;
I taught him well; there was not in the parish
A child who said his prayers more regular,
Or answered readier through his Catechism.
If I had foreseen this! but 't is a blessing
We don't know what we 're born to!
As he grew up he used to watch the birds
In the corn, child's work you know, and easily done.
'Tis an idle sort of task; so he built up
A little hut of wicker-work and clay
Under the hedge, to shelter him in rain :
And then he took, for very idleness,
To making traps to catch the plunderers;
All sorts of cunning traps that boys can make,..
Propping a stone to fall and shut them in,
Or crush them with its weight, or else a springe
Swung on a bough. He made them cleverly,..
And, I, poor foolish woman! I was pleased
To see the boy so handy. You may guess
What follow'd, Sir, from this unlucky skill.
He did what he should not when he was older:
warn'd him oft enough; but he was caught
In wiring hares at last, and had his choice,
The prison or the ship.
Was kindly left him; and for broken laws
This was, methinks, no heavy punishment.
So I was told, Sir. And I tried to think so,
But 't was a sad blow to me! I was used
To sleep at nights as sweetly as a child, ..
Now if the wind blew rough, it made me start, And think of my poor boy tossing about
To feel that it was hard to take him from me
For such a little fault. But he was wrong,
Oh very wrong, a murrain on his traps!
See what they've brought him to!
He will be taken care of if he lives;
And should you lose your child, this is a country
Where the brave Sailor never leaves a parent
To weep for him in want.
No succour long. In the common course of years
I soon must be at rest; and 't is a comfort,
When grief is hard upon me, to reflect
It only leads me to that rest the sooner.
FATHER! here, father! I have found a horse-shoe!
Faith it was just in time; for t' other night
I laid two straws across at Margery's door,
And ever since I fear'd that she might do me
A mischief for 't. There was the Miller's boy
Who set his dog at that black cat of hers, . .
I met him upon crutches, and he told me
'Twas all her evil eye.
I would have gladly given a crown for one
If 't would have done as well. But where didst find it?
Down on the common; I was going a-field,
And neighbour Saunders pass'd me on his mare;
He had hardly said "Good day," before I saw
The shoe drop off. 'T was just upon my tongue
To call him back; .. it makes no difference does it,
Because I know whose 't was?
The shoe's the same, you know; and you did find it.
That mare of his has got a plaguey road
To travel, father; . . and if he should lame her,..
For she is but tender-footed, ..
I should not like to see her limping back,
Poor beast!.. But charity begins at home,
And, Nat, there's our own horse in such a way
This morning!
Why he han't been rid again! Last night I hung a pebble by the manger With a hole through, and every body says That 't is a special charm against the hags.
It could not be a proper natural hole then,
Or 't was not a right pebble; . . for I found him
Smoking with sweat, quaking in every limb,
And panting so! Lord knows where he had been
When we were all asleep, through bush and brake,
Up-hill and down-hill all alike, full stretch
At such a deadly rate!..
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