As proud as any lord was I, And thought myself full ten feet high. And many a hand that hat passed through, And he'll come out and trounce you well, Said I, "mine's newest, and of course, Just see the crown, how high it is, "I care not," said another voice, If mine's not best, I'll never move, That it has cost the most." Then rant and tear, to fight we went, To settle fairly the event, And set the matter right; And many a ragged vest and shirt, Now, circumstances since have shown, For trifles quarrel best; They beat and bruise each other sore, LESSON XVI. THE COUNTRYMAN, HIS SON, AND THE ASS. This new version of an old fable gives new interest to it. We found it in an English school book. Fables, allegories, and parables, so run into each other, that it is difficult to draw the line between them. Under a figurative diction, they generally convey salutary advice, and perhaps no form of composition has been so popular in every age. The oldest fable on record, is that of the trees and the bramble, (Judges ix. 8,) which has never been excelled. A country fellow and his son, they tell As they were jogging on, a rustic class Were heard to say, "Look! look there at that ass! The old fellow minded nothing that they said, “Ne'er heed 'em, lad.” "Nay, father, do get on;" Well, do and see what prating tongues will say." The boy was mounted; and they had not got Down came the son, on hearing this account, "See! see!" exclaimed, "that old, hard-hearted wretch! How like a justice there he sits, or squire, While the poor lad keeps wading through the mire." 66 'Stop!" cried the lad, still deeper vexed in mind, This done, they thought they certainly should please, Still disappointed by succeeding tone, On this they both dismounted; and some say, The ass between 'em; prints, they add, are seen, As overstraining an ingenious hint. The copy that we follow, says, the man Rubbed down the ass, and took to his first plan; Walked to the fair, and sold him, got his price, LESSON XVII. THE CLEAN FACE. This sprightly description of a common operation, should be spoken by a small boy, in a cross, complaining tone, until he reaches the last two lines, when he must straighten up, and utter his resolution with the energy of a hero determined to suffer imposition no longer! The author is our countrywoman, MISS LESLIE. O, why must my face be washed so clean, And scrubbed and drenched for Sunday, When you know very well, as you've always seen, "Twill be dirty again on Monday. My hair is stiff with the lathery soap, And my smarting eyes I'm afraid to ope, And my lip the suds is sipping. They're down my throat and up my nose, And you rub as hard as ever you can, And your hands are hard to my sorrow,No woman shall wash me when I'm a man, And I wish I was one to-morrow. LESSON XVIII. THE DREAM OF LIFE. It is related of Maurice, Count de Saxe, one of the greatest generals and most successful conquerors that ever lived, that on his death bed, he turned to his physician and said, "My life has been a splendid dream." On this fact, a writer in the Episcopal Watchman has founded the following verses. Happy will it be for such men of blood, if the dream of life has no more serious consequences than an ordinary dream. The warrior from his couch of death Where the regal pageants stream, Youth pressing onward to the prize, O'er his dying spirits came; Young feeling's gush-and triumph's flush, All in their first keen freshness rush On the glance of that last hour. Success had waited on his way, Were to the glazed eye of death But a vague and splendid dream. |