And we had children, but while wants increased
Wages stood still. The silver buckles went,
So went the watch; and when the holiday coat
Was worn to work, no new * one in its place.
For me..
you see my rags! but I deserve them,
For wilfully, like this new-married pair,
I went to my undoing.

TRAVELLER.

But the parish...

WOMAN.

Aye, it falls heavy there; and yet their pittance
Just serves to keep life in. A blessed prospect,
To slave while there is strength, in age the workhouse,
A parish shell at last, and the little bell
Toll'd hastily for a pauper's funeral !

Is this your child?

TRAVELLER.

WOMAN.

Aye, Sir; and were he drest

* A farmer once told the author of Malvern Hills, "that he almost constantly remarked a gradation of changes in those men he had been in the habit of employing. Young men, he said, were generally neat in their appearance, active and cheerful, till they became married and had a family, when he had observed that their silver buttons, buckles, and watches gradually disappeared, and their Sunday's clothes became common without any other to supply their place,.. but, said he, some good comes from this, for they will then work for whatever they can get."

Note to COTTLE'S Malvern Hills.

And clean'd, he'd be as fine a boy to look on
As the Squire's young master. These thin rags of his
Let comfortably in the summer wind;

But when the winter comes, it pinches me
To see the little wretch; I've three besides ;
And,.. God forgive me! but I often wish

To see them in their coffins... God reward you!
God bless you for your charity!

TRAVELLER.

You have taught me

To give sad meaning to the village bells!

Bristol, 1800.

IX.

THE ALDERMAN'S FUNERAL.

STRANGER.

WHOM are they ushering from the world, with all This pageantry and long parade of death?

TOWNSMAN.

A long parade, indeed, Sir, and yet here
You see but half; round yonder bend it reaches
A furlong further, carriage behind carriage.

STRANGER.

'Tis but a mournful sight, and yet the pomp Tempts me to stand a gazer.

TOWNSMAN.

Yonder schoolboy

Who plays the truant, says the proclamation
Of peace was nothing to the show; and even
The chairing of the members at election
Would not have been a finer sight than this ;
Only that red and green are prettier colours
Than all this mourning. There, Sir, you behold
One of the red-gown'd worthies of the city,
The envy and the boast of our exchange; ..

Aye, what was worth, last week, a good half-million, Screw'd down in yonder hearse!

STRANGER.

Then he was born

Under a lucky planet, who to-day
Puts mourning on for his inheritance.

TOWNSMAN.

When first I heard his death, that very wish
Leapt to my lips; but now the closing scene
Of the comedy hath waken'd wiser thoughts;
And I bless God, that, when I go to the grave,
There will not be the weight of wealth like his
To sink me down.

Is Gospel-wisdom. I would ride the camel, .
Yea leap him flying, through the needle's eye,
As easily as such a pamper'd soul

Could pass the narrow gate.

STRANGER.

Your pardon, Sir,

But sure this lack of Christian charity

Looks not like Christian truth.

TOWNSMAN.

Your pardon too, Sir,

If, with this text before me, I should feel

In the preaching mood! But for these barren fig-trees,
With all their flourish and their leafiness,

We have been told their destiny and use,
When the axe is laid unto the root, and they
Cumber the earth no longer.

STRANGER.

Was his wealth

Stored fraudfully,.. the spoil of orphans wrong'd, And widows who had none to plead their right?

TOWNSMAN.

All honest, open, honourable gains,
Fair legal interest, bonds and mortgages,
Ships to the East and West.

STRANGER.

So hardly of the dead?

TOWNSMAN.

Why judge you then

For what he left

Undone ;.. for sins, not one of which is written
In the Ten Commandments. He, I warrant him,
Believed no other Gods than those of the Creed;
Bow'd to no idols,.. but his money-bags;
Swore no false oaths, except at the custom-house;
Kept the Sabbath idle; built a monument
To honour his dead father; did no murder;