188

The Right Change.

that fellow, I forget what he calls himself, sing "One more glass before we part." And didn't we join in the chorus !

WILL. Ha, ha, ha, poor fellows! and order an extra glass or two to illustrate the song, I suppose? Those are the kind of songs that make the landlords rub their hands. And you poor silly sheep can't see plainer than that! Why, the publicans can afford to pay a singer well for singing a song of that description.

TOм. Well, of course, the landlords must live as well as other people. It's a good business and very respectable.

WILL. Oh, yes, very respectable. Where are nine-tenths of the robberies concocted? and where do the thieves spend their ill-gotten wealth? Why, in the public-house, to be sure. Well may our poorhouses and prisons fill while those places are open from early morn till late at night ready to entrap men, women, and even children, and lure them on to ruin.

TOм. Why, Will, you would make a capital teetotal spouter. Let me know when you are going to hold forth, and I'll come.

WILL. I have no pretensions to oratory, but if I had I certainly should think it my duty to go upon the platform and advocate the principles of total abstinence. I believe there is no greater stumbling-block in the way of the moral and social elevation of the people of England, than the habit of using intoxicating drink.

Toм. Well, Mr. Lecturer, and where did you spend your evening may I ask? Threading needles for your wife while she darned the stockings?

WILL. Not exactly, although I might have done worse than that. When you were courting Mrs. S. I have no doubt you thought it a grand privilege to be allowed to thread a needle or wind cotton for her.

Tом. Oh yes! that was before the "curtain lectures" commenced. But you havn't told me how you spent your evening.

WILL. Oh, I went to an entertainment.

Toм. You went to an entertainment, did you? Why you are getting gay, I declare!

WILL. Yes, I was gay, as gay as the merriest there.
Toм. Did you sing "One more glass before we part?"

WILL. No, we did not. It was a Band of Hope entertainment, and the children sang. They sang about glasses too, but it was glasses of pure, bright water.

Toм. And did you get your right change?

WILL. Oh yes! I got all I went for and a good deal more. I sat and listened to the glad voices of the little ones, and I thought "of such is the kingdom of Heaven," and it seemed as if the pearly gates were coming nearer as their sweet songs rang out from their happy hearts. Did I get my right change? Aye! that I did. I got a change from weary labour, a change that did me good. You will never get your right change in a public-house: you will get misery and poverty, shame and wretchedness. Your right change would be to reform your life altogether and become a teetotaler.

TOM. Well, I really think I'll try your teetotalism. When I found my pocket so light this morning I had half a mind to give up drinking, and now what you have said has quite settled the matter. I'll sign the pledge, and when I take home my card you will all say that I have got the "right change."

I can hear the young birds twitter
From their homes in leafy nooks;
And a thousand diamonds glitter

When you dance upon the brooks.

Then I see a darkened chamber
Where a maiden lies in pain;
And a soft voice sadly murmurs,
"Let me see the sun again.
"Sister Katie, draw the curtain,
Lift the window, turn the blind:
I'll be better, I am certain,

When I feel the summer wind."

Then the sunbeams, softly stealing,
Cross the crimson-covered floor:
Some shine bright upon the ceiling,
Others rest upon the door.

And she feels their warm caresses
When they linger on her bed,
Kiss her brow, and light her tresses
Like a glory round her head.

Ere they came, a weight of sorrows
Lay upon her heart and eyes:
Ere they go, from them she borrows
Thoughts which make the burden rise.

They had found her faint and fearful;
But they whispered in their love,-
"Timid maiden, why so tearful?

Lift, and leave all cares above!"

Golden sunbeams, brightly shining
'Neath yon dark cloud's purple breast;
Bringing from its brilliant lining
Messages of peace, of rest.

Oh! let us, like you, be giving
Genial light and love abroad;
That all round us, by our living,
May be cheered upon their road.

Let us labour, nothing fearing,
Earnestly and humbly too;
For we know the night is nearing,

When we no more work can do..

MRS. HAWKSHAWE.

HE sunshine is a glorious thing,
That comes alike to all,
Lighting the peasant's lowly cot,
The noble's painted hall.

The moonlight is a gentle thing,
It through the window gleams
Upon the snowy pillow where
The happy infant dreams.

It shines upon the fisher's boat

.

Out on the lovely sea;

Or where the little lambkins lie,

Beneath the old oak tree.

The dew-drops on the summer morn,
Sparkle upon the grass;

The village children brush them off,
That through the meadows pass.

There are no gems in monarchs' crowns
More beautiful than they ;

And yet we scarcely notice them,

But tread them off in play.

142

Work: Honourable.

Poor Robin on the pear-tree sings,
Beside the cottage-door;

The heath-flower fills the air with sweets,
Upon the pathless moor.

There are as many lovely things,
As many pleasant tones,

For those who sit by cottage-hearths
As those who sit on thrones!

WORK: HONOURABLE.

HOSE who toil to earn their bread

TH

Need not grumble at their lot;

They in noble footsteps tread,
And a claim to life have got.
Toil is not the wage of sin,

For in Eden work was given;
Man was made to work and win
Spoil of earth and bliss of heaven.

He who at the anvil stands,

Striking while the iron glows,
Though he works with horny hands,
Nobly strikes the ringing blows.

At the loom and in the field,
In the shop and on the soil,
Where men wisely power wield
There is dignity in toil.

He who works with throbbing brain,
Thinks, to teach men how to live,
Writes, that others good may gain,
Speaks, to truth fresh zest to give,-
He can claim the manly right
With the sons of toil to stand,
He asserts his mental might,
Helps to bless his native land.

He who lives a life of ease,

Idly wasting all his days,

Aining only self to please,

Filled with pride, and courting praise,