And, should I live through sun and rain Seven widowed years without my Jane,

O Sexton, do not then remove her,

Let one grave hold the Lov'd and Lover!

ANDREW JONES.

"I hate that Andrew Jones: he'll breed

His children up to waste and pillage.
I wish the press-gang or the drum
With its tantara sound, would come
him from the village!"

And sweep

I said not this, because he loves

Through the long day to swear and tipple ;

But for the poor dear sake of one

To whom a foul deed he had done,

A friendless Man, a travelling Cripple.

For this poor crawling helpless wretch
Some Horseman who was passing by
A penny on the ground had thrown;
But the poor Cripple was alone,
And could not stoop-no help was nigh.

Inch-thick the dust lay on the ground, For it had long been droughty weather: So with his staff the Cripple wrought Among the dust till he had brought The halfpennies together.

It chanced that Andrew passed that way Just at the time; and there he found The Cripple in the mid-day heat

Standing alone, and at his feet

He saw the penny on the ground.

He stooped and took the penny up:
And when the Cripple nearer drew,

Quoth Andrew, "Under half-a-crown,
What a man finds is all his own,

And so, my friend, good day to you."

And hence I said, that Andrew's boys

Will all be trained to waste and pillage; And wished the press-gang, or the drum With its tantara sound, would come

And sweep him from the village!

RUTH.