Tho' my house is but small, 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 may look far and near, 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, In defence of a church that's the best, Sir; 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; '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, Which all confess, but few perceive, 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- Of cruelty upon my name, What next the hero of our tale befell, He chaffer'd then, he bought and sold, Nor once perceiv'd his growing old, Nor thought of Death as near; His friends not false, his wife no shrew, He passed his hours in peace. But while he viewed his wealth increase, Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares, And now, one night, in musing mood, Th' unwelcome messenger of Fate "So soon, d'ye call it?" Death replies : "Surely, my friend, you're but in jest! Since I was here before 'Tis six-and-thirty years at least, "So much the worse," the clown rejoin'd; Beside, you promis'd me Three Warnings, Which I have look'd for nights and mornings! But for that loss of time and ease, I can recover damages." "I know," cries Death, "that at the best, I seldom am a welcome guest; But don't be captious, friend, at least: 66 "This is a shocking story, faith; I warrant you hear all the news." "There's none," cries he; "and if there were, So come along, no more we'll part:"- CHOOSE THE RIGHT ONE. MRS. PARTON. THE moon looked down upon no fairer sight than Effie May, as she lay sleeping on her little couch, that fair summer night. So thought her mother, as she glided gently in, to give her a silent, good-night blessing. The bright flush of youth and hope was on her cheek. Her long dark hair lay in masses about her neck and shoulders; a smile played upon the red lips, and the mother bent low to catch the indistinct murmur. She starts at the whispered name, as if a serpent had stung her; and as the little snowy hand is tossed restlessly upon the coverlid, she sees, glittering in the moonbeams, on that childish finger, the golden-signet of betrothal. Sleep sought in vain to woo the eyes of the mother that night. Reproachfully she asked herself, "How could I have been so blind? (but then Effie has seemed to me only a child)! But he! oh, no; the grog shop will be my child's rival; it must not be." Effie was wilful, and Mrs. May knew she must be |