Puslapio vaizdai
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robber's agent-the alehouse's benefactor-his wife's sorrow his children's trouble-his own shame-his neighbour's scoff-the picture of a beast-the monster of a man!"

DR. DODD.

A PLAIN MAN'S PHILOSOPHY.

I'VE a guinea I can spend,

I've a wife, and I've a friend,

And a troop of little children at my knee, John Brown; I've a cottage of my own

With the ivy overgrown,

And a garden with a view of the sea, John Brown;
I can sit at my door

By my shady sycamore,

Large of heart, though of very small estate, John Brown; So, come and drain a glass

In my arbour as you pass,

And I'll tell you what I love and what I hate, John Brown.

I love the song of birds,

And the children's early words,

And a loving woman's voice, low and sweet, John Brown; But I hate a false pretence,

And a want of common sense,

And arrogance, and fawning, and deceit, John Brown ;

I love the meadow flowers,

And the brier in the bowers,

And I love an open face without guile, John Brown; But I hate a selfish knave,

And a proud, contented slave,

And a lout who'd rather borrow than he'd toil, John Brown.

I love a simple song

That awakes emotions strong,

And the word of hope that raises him who faints, John Brown;

And I hate the constant whine

Of the foolish who repine,

And turn their good to evil by complaints, John Brown; But even when I hate,

If I seek my garden gate,

And survey the world around me, and above, John Brown,

The hatred flies my mind,

And I sigh for human kind,

And excuse the faults of those I cannot love, John Brown.

So, if you like my ways,

And the comfort of my days,

I will tell you how I live so unvex'd, John Brown; I never scorn my health,

Nor sell my soul for wealth,

Nor destroy one day the pleasures of the next, John Brown;

I've parted with my pride,

And I take the sunny side,

For I've found it worse than folly to be sad, John Brown ; I keep my conscience clear,

I've a hundred pounds a year,

And I manage to exist and to be glad, John Brown.

CHARLES MACKAY.

THE BUNDLE OF STICKS.

A GOOD old man, no matter where,
Whether in York or Lancashire,
Or on a hill, or in a dale,—

It cannot much concern the tale,—
Had children very much like others,
Compos'd of sisters and of brothers;
In life he had not much to give,
Save his example how to live;

His luck was what his neighbours had,
For some were good and some were bad!
When of their father death bereft 'em
His good advice was all he left 'em.
This good old man, who long had lain
Afflicted with disease and pain,
With difficulty drew his breath,
And felt the sure approach of death.

He call'd his children round his bed,
And with a feeble voice he said:
"Alas, alas, my children dear,
I well perceive my end is near;
I suffer much, but kiss the rod,
And bow me to the will of God.
Yet, ere from you I'm quite removed,
From you whom I have always loved;
I wish to give you all my blessing,
And leave you with a useful lesson;
That when I've left this world of care,
Each may his testimony bear,
How much my latest thoughts inclined
To prove me tender, good, and kind!
Observe that faggot on the ground,
With twisted hazel firmly bound."
The children turn'd their eyes that
And view'd the faggot as it lay;
But wonder'd what their father meant;
Who thus expounded his intent;

way,

"I wish that all of you would take it, And try if any one can break it."

Obedient to the good old man, They all to try their strength began: Now boy, now girl, now he, now she, Applied the faggot to their knee; They tugg'd, and strain'd, and tried again, But still they tugg'd, and tried in vain : In vain their skill and strength exerted;

The faggot every effort thwarted;
And, when their labour vain they found,
They flung the faggot on the ground.

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Again the good old man proceeded

To give the instruction which they needed:
Untwist," said he, "the hazel bind,
And let the faggot be disjoined."

Then stick by stick, and twig by twig,
The little children and the big,

Following the words their father spoke, Each sprig and spray they quickly broke ; "There father!" all began to cry,

"I've broken mine!-and I! and I!"

Replied the sire: ""Twas my intent
My family to represent!

While you are join'd in friendship's throng,
My dearest children, you'll be strong:
But, if by quarrel and dispute,

You undermine affection's root,

And thus the strength'ning cord divide,
Then will my children ill betide;
E'en beasts of prey in bands unite,
And kindly for each other fight;
And shall not every Christian be
Join'd in sweet links of amity?
If separate, you'll each be weak;
Each, like a single stick, will break;
But if you're firm, and true, and hearty,
The world and all its spite, can't part ye."

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