only gives birth to a second.

However, I will try to cure you; we will raise the walls of the granary.'

This time the farmer declared his only wish was granted, and returned gaily to his farm.

Some days after, a builder was sent by Mr Ferrers to look at the work to be done. Antony asked him, in the course of conversation, what would be done with the old wood-work.

'Nothing, I suppose,' said the builder; it is not very strong, and, at most, would only serve for a grange.' 'And ours happens to be too small,' said the farmer. 'Have you any room for a larger?'

'Yes, close by the stable-door, by taking a bit off the garden. Come this way-I will shew you.'

They went to look at the ground, which the builder found admirably adapted for a new building. He pointed out to Antony all the advantages that would arise if the stables were enlarged, and a tank made for manure. Antony adopted the scheme with enthusiasm; it would be a means of completing the improvements begun, and of making the farm superior to any in the neighbourhood; while, at the same time, the old wood-work would be made use of. Without this additional expense, the improvements undertaken would not give returns proportioned to the outlay, and Mr Ferrers ought to adopt them for his own sake.

But Antony added that he dared not ask him.

'I should be told that I was never satisfied,' said he ; 'it would not be understood that what I ask is as much for the good of the farm as for my own profit. If I had the means I would soon do it, without asking anybody ; but poor people must just be content to wish a thing.'

'Don't put yourself about,' said the builder, who

thought it impossible to employ money for any other purpose than building; 'I will speak to the squire, and he is sure to do it.'

Antony encouraged him, and begged to know the result as soon as possible.

Left alone, he turned over the builder's projects in his own mind, and calculated his own profits. In the end, it was clear to him that all that was proposed was quite indispensable-if he had not asked for it before, it was because he hated to complain; but Mr Ferrers would be both hard and unjust to refuse him.

He

However, several days passed, and he heard nothing of the builder. The suspense was insufferable. went to the village, some distance from his farm, in which the builder lived, but he could not find him. He returned still more disquieted. From all appearances, Mr Ferrers had refused; he could no longer calculate on the enlargement of his premises; he must still make shift, and his chance of wealth was gone for want of a little money of his own, or a little good-will on the part of others.

Antony had given himself up to these bitter reflections, when he heard some one calling him. It was the builder, who had just spied him from the top of a scaffolding, where he was overlooking his workmen.

Well, the business is settled, Master Antony,' he shouted.

'What business?' asked the farmer, who dared not guess. 'What business!—why, the grange and the stable.' 'The squire consents?'

'We are to begin it next month.'

'Come and take a glass with me, and tell me all about it,' cried Antony delighted.

The master-builder descended from the scaffolding, and

joined Antony at the inn, where he told him that his landlord had laughed without making any objection, and had asked the builder for a minute estimate of all the changes to be made.

On

Antony went back to the farm quite reassured. his arrival, he went once more to visit the spot destined for the new buildings. The former entrance being no longer of use, a way must be made across the garden; there was a hedge to cut down and a ditch to fill up. He resolved to do it at his own cost, without saying anything to Mr Ferrers. But this arrangement would deprive him of a part of the little garden, already reduced by the construction of the manure-tank; this would be a loss to him, and his landlord could not refuse him some compensation. There was a piece of land unoccupied just across the road; Antony thought he might lay claim to it as a compensation. He consequently went to Mr Ferrers, under pretence of knowing when the alterations were to be begun.

'Well, Master Antony,' said the squire on seeing him, 'I hope you are satisfied?'

'Poor people have no right to complain as long as they have bread to eat,' replied the farmer.

'A precept of most Christian resignation,' replied Mr Ferrers. 'But it seems to me, my friend, that you have other causes for satisfaction; have I not granted all you have asked, including new farm-buildings?'

'I am much obliged to you, sir,' said the farmer coldly; 'but you are aware that labourers live by tilling the and when you deprive them of any portion of it, it is like taking a morsel of their bread!'

soil;

And who is going to deprive you of it?' asked Mr Ferrers.

'Excuse the liberty I take,' said Antony, a little embarrassed; but your new grange, sir, and the road up to it, will take away a part of the garden. I am not given to complaining; but if you would allow me to cultivate the little slip of ground opposite our farm, that would give us compensation.'

"Ah! very good,' said Mr Ferrers, looking at the farmer; it seems to me that this little slip of ground is about an acre!'

'I cannot say,' said Antony, looking very innocent; 'I never measured it; but it is something to poor people like us, while it is nothing to the master.'

'Listen to me a moment,' said the squire. 'You must make a calculation, my friend. Here is an estimate of all you have asked from me; it amounts to nearly eightyfive pounds. Adding the acre of ground, it will be a hundred and twenty-five pounds that have been spent to satisfy your desires, in less than a month! According to this calculation, it would be necessary, in order to satisfy a poor man like you, Master Antony, to have forty thousand a year, and I have only half that sum. Even then, you would not be happy; for, since I promised you a new roof, you have gone on from one wish to another, always discontented and complaining. You see, then, wealth cannot satisfy a man who cannot content himself with what he has. The happiness you run after, you will never find, my friend; it lies neither in wealth nor in power, nor in anything outside our lives-the Almighty has put it within our reach: He has put it in ourselves!'

GOODY BLAKE AND HARRY GILL.

A True Story.

1.

Oh! what's the matter? what's the matter?
What is 't that ails young Harry Gill,
That evermore his teeth they chatter,
Chatter, chatter, chatter still?
Of waistcoats Harry has no lack,
Good duffle gray, and flannel fine;
He has a blanket on his back,

And coats enough to smother nine.

2.

In March, December, and in July,
'Tis all the same with Harry Gill;
The neighbours tell, and tell you truly,
His teeth they chatter, chatter still.
At night, at morning, and at noon,

'Tis all the same with Harry Gill; Beneath the sun, beneath the moon, His teeth they chatter, chatter still.

3.

Young Harry was a lusty drover,

And who so stout of limb as he?
His cheeks were red as ruddy clover;
His voice was like the voice of three.
Old Goody Blake was old and poor;
Ill-fed she was and thinly clad;
And any man who passed her door

Might see how poor a hut she had.