De meal and flour was almost gone, de pork barrel gettin' low,
And so one day I 'cluded dat I had better go

To brudder Johnson's tater patch to borrer just a few.
'Twas evening 'fore I got a start-I had so much to do.

It happened dat de night was dark, but dat I didn't mind,
I knowed de way to dat dai patch-'twas easy nuff to find,
And den I didn't care to meet dat Johnson, for I knowed
Dat he would sass me 'bout de mess ob taters.dat I owed.

I got de basket full at last, and tuck it on my back,

And den was goin' to tote it home, when somethin' went kerwhack, I tot it was a cannon; but it just turned out to be

Dat Johnson's one-hoss pistol a-pointin' straight at me.

I tried to argufy wid him, I 'pologized a heap,

But he said dat stealin' taters was as mean as stealin' sheep;
Ob course I could not take dat dar, it had an ugly sound,
So de only ting for me to do was just to knock him down.

And now, my friendly hearers, de story all am told,

Ob course I pounded Johnson till he yelled for me to hold; An' now I hopes you 'grees wid me, dat dis yer case and such Am berry triflin' matters to fotch before de church.

THE MILKMAID.

A MILKMAID, Who poised a full pail on her head,
Thus mused on her prospects in life, it is said:
"Let me see,-I should think that this milk will procure
One hundred good eggs, or fourscore, to be sure.

"Well then,-stop a bit,-it must not be forgotten,
Some of these may be broken, and some may be rotten;
But if twenty for accident should be detached,
It will leave me just sixty sound eggs to be hatched.

"Well, sixty sound eggs,-no, sound chickens, I mean:
Of these some may die,-we'll suppose seventeen,

THE MILKMAID.

Seventeen! not so many,-say ten at the most,

Which will leave fifty chickens to boil or to roast.

“But then there's their barley; how much will they need? Why, they take but one grain at a time when they feed,So that's a mere trifle; now, then, let us see,

At a fair market price how much money there'll be.

"Six shillings a pair-five-four-three-and-six,
To prevent all mistakes, that low price I will fix;
Now what will that make? fifty chickens, I said,-
Fifty times three-and-sixpence,-I'll ask Brother Ned!

"Oh, but stop,-three-and-sixpence a pair I must sell 'em!
Well, a pair is a couple,-now then let us tell 'em.
A couple in fifty will go (my poor brain !),
Why, just a score times, and five pair will remain.

"Twenty-five pair of fowls,-now how tiresome it is
That I can't reckon up so much money as this!
Well, there's no use in trying, so let's give a guess,—
'll say twenty pounds, and it can be no less.

"Twenty pounds, I am certain, will buy me a cow,
Thirty geese and two turkeys,-eight pigs and a sow;
Now if these turn out well, at the end of the year,
I shall fill both my pockets with guineas, 'tis clear."

Forgetting her burden, when this she had said,
The maid superciliously tossed up her head;

When, alas for her prospects! her milk-pail descended,
And so all her schemes for the future were ended.

This moral, I think, may be safely attached,

"Reckon not on your chickens before they are hatched."

211

THAT GRUMBLING OLD WOMAN.

THERE was an old woman, and-what do you think?—
She lived upon nothing but victuals and drink!
But though victuals and drink were the chief of her diet,
Yet this grumbling old woman never was quiet.

-MOTHER GOOSE.

She had a nice cottage, a hen-house and barn,
And a sheep whose fine wool furnished blankets and yarn;
A cow that supplied her with butter and cheese,
A large flock of geese, and a hive full of bees.

Yet she grumbled and grumbled from morning till night,
For this foolish old woman thought nothing went right;
E'en the days of the week were all wrong, for on Sunday
She always declared that she wished it was Monday.

If cloudless and fair was the long summer day,
And the sun smiled down on the new-mown hay,
"There's a drought," she said, "as sure as you're born!
If it don't rain soon, it will ruin the corn!"

But when descended the gentle rain,
Blessing the bountiful fields of grain,
And bringing new life to flower and bud,
She said there was coming a second flood.

She never gave aught to the needy and poor;
The outcast and hungry she turned from her door.
"Shall I work," she said, with a wag of the head,
"To provide for the idle and lazy their bread?"

But the rich she regarded with envy and spite;
She said 'twas a shame-'twasn't decent nor right,—
That the haughty old squire, with his bow-legged son,
Should ride with two horses, while she rode with one.

And the crabbed old fellow,-to spite her, no doubt,-
Had built a new barn like a palace throughout,

With a cupola on it, as grand as you please,

And a rooster that whirled head and tail with the breeze.

FAILED.

"I wish, so I do," she said, cocking her eye,

"There'd come a great whirlwind, and blow it sky-high!"
And e'en as she spoke, a loud rushing was heard,
And the barn to its very foundations was stirred.

It stood the shock bravely, but-pitiful sight!—
The wind took the old woman up like a kite!
As she sailed up aloft over forest and hill,
Her tongue, so they say, it kept wagging on still.

And where she alighted, no mortal doth know,
Or whether she ever alighted below.

MORAL.

My moral, my dears, you will find if you try;
And if you don't find any, neither can I.

213

FAILED.

YES, I'm a ruined man, Kate-everything gone at last;
Nothing to show for the trouble and toil of the weary years that

are past;

Houses and lands and money have taken wings and fled;

This very morning I signed away, the roof from over my head.

I shouldn't care for myself, Kate; I'm used to the world's rough

ways;

I've dug and delved and plodded along through all my manhood

days;

But I think of you and the children, and it almost breaks my heart; For I thought so surely to give my boys and girls a splendid start.

So many years on the ladder, I thought I was near the top-
Only a few days longer, and then I expected to stop,
And put the boys in my place, Kate, with an easier life ahead;
But now I must give the prospect up; that comforting dream is

dead.

"I am worth more than my gold, eh?"

it so;

You're good to look at

But a man isn't worth very much, Kate, when his hair is turning

to snow.

My poor little girls, with their soft white hands, and their innocent eyes of blue,

Turned adrift in the heartless world-what can and what will they do?

"An honest failure?" Indeed it was; dollar for dollar was paid; Never a creditor suffered, whatever people have said.

Better are rags and a conscience clear than a palace and flush of

shame.

One thing I shall leave to my children, Kate; and that is an honest name.

What's that? "The boys are not troubled, they are ready now to

begin

And gain us another fortune, and work through thick and thin?"
The noble fellows! already I feel I haven't so much to bear;
Their courage has lightened my heavy load of misery and despair.

"And the girls are so glad it was honest; they'd rather not dress so fine,

And think they did it with money that wasn't honestly mine?" They're ready to show what they're made of-quick to earn and to

save

My blessed, good little daughters! so generous and so brave!

And you think we needn't fret, Kate, while we have each other left, No matter of what possessions our lives may be bereft ?

You are right. With a quiet conscience, and a wife so good and

true,

I'll put my hand to the plough again; and I know that we'll pull through.