But still, in sunshine or in storm, May I be faithful to my trust, MY FIRST GUINEA. REV. DR. VAUGHAN. I WELL remember, when I was very young, possessing for the first time a guinea. I remember, too, that this circumstance cost me no little perplexity and anxiety. As I passed along the streets, the fear of losing my guinea induced me frequently to take it out of my pocket to look at it. First I put it in one pocket, and then I took it out and put it in another; after a while I took it out of the second pocket and placed it in another, really perplexed what to do with it. At length my attention was arrested by a book auction. I stepped in, and looked about me. First one lot was put up, and then another, and sold to the highest bidder. At last I ventured to the table, just as the auctioneer was putting up the "History of the World," in two large folio volumes. I instantly thrust my hand into my pocket, and began turning over my guinea, considering all the while whether I had money enough to buy this lot. The biddings proceeded; at last I ventured to bid too. "Halloo, my little man!" said the auctioneer; "what! not content with less than the world?" This remark greatly confused me, and drew the attention of the whole company toward me, who, seeing me anxious to possess the books, refrained from bidding against me; and so the "World" was knocked down to me at a very moderate price. How to get these huge books home was the next consideration. The auctioneer offered to send them; but I, not knowing what sort of creatures auctioneers were, determined to take them myself; so, after the assistant had tied them up, I marched out of the room with these huge books upon my shoulder, like Samson with the gates of Gaza, amidst the smiles of all present. When I reached my home, after the servant had opened the door, the first person I met was my now sainted mother. "My dear boy," said she, "what have you got there? I thought you would not keep your guinea long." "Do not be angry, mother," said I, throwing them down upon the table: "I have bought the world for nine shillings!" This was on Saturday; and I well remember sitting up till it was well-nigh midnight, turning over this "History of the World." These books became my delight, and were carefully read through and through. As I grew older, I at length became a Christian, and my love of books naturally led me to desire to be a Christian minister. To the possession of these books I attribute, in a great measure, any honours in connexion with literature that have been added to my name. I have not mentioned this anecdote to gratify any foolish feeling, but to encourage in those young persons I see before me that love of literature which has afforded me such unspeakable pleasure-pleasure which I would not have been without for all the riches of the Indies. THE POOR MAN'S SONG. MRS. HANNAH MORE. BECAUSE I'm but poor, And slender's my store, That I've nothing to lose is the cry, Sir! I vow I can't bear it, I give all such praters the lie, Sir. Tho' my house is but small, Yet to have none at all, Would sure be a greater distress, Sir; And my orchard so neat, Be the prize of a foreign oppressor? On Saturday night, "Tis still my delight, With my wages to run home the faster; I look far and near, may But I never shall find a paymaster. I've a dear little wife, To lose her I shouldn't much like, Sir; To see my sweet child With its head on the point of a pike, Sir, I've my church too to save, And will go to my grave, In defence of a church that's the best, Sir; I've my Queen, too, God bless her! Let no man oppress her, For none has she ever opprest, Sir. British laws for my guard— "Tis safe in the light or the dark, Sir; I get instant redress; My orchard's as safe as his park, Sir. My cot is my throne, What I have is my own, And what is my own I will keep, Sir; Should fighting come now, 'Tis true I may plough; But I'm sure that I never shall reap, Sir. Now do but reflect What I have to protect, Then doubt if to fight I shall choose, Sir; Now tell me I've nothing to lose, Sir. So I'll beat my ploughshare Though I use it reluctantly then, Sir; That my sword now so bright, May soon turn to a ploughshare again, Sir. THE THREE WARNINGS MRS. THRALE. THE tree of deepest root is found This great affection to believe, Be pleased to hear a modern tale. When sports went round, and all were gay, On neighbour Dobson's wedding day, Death called aside the jocund groom With him into another room; And looking grave—“You must," says he, "Quit your fair bride, and come with me." "With you! and quit my Susan's side! With you!" the hapless husband cried, "Young as I am, 'tis monstrous hard! What more he urged, I have not heard, Yet calling up a serious look, His hour-glass trembled while he spoke— "Neighbour," he said "Farewell! no more Shall death disturb your mirthful hour: And farther, to avoid all blame Of cruelty upon my name, To give you time for preparation, In hopes you'll have no more to say; What next the hero of our tale befell, He chaffer'd then, he bought and sold, Nor once perceiv'd his growing old, His friends not false, his wife no shrew, He passed his hours in peace. But while he viewed his wealth increase, |