Page images
PDF
EPUB

and deformity into beauty. But while we are speaking in this respectable assembly, we have nothing to say of vice, but that we hope it exists not here; and while we are addressing this lovely assemblage of ladies, to mention deformity would be straying wide from the purpose. It will not be denied, that with the perfection of beauty, it is very well to possess a handsome interest in pecuniary matters; it makes the heart cheerful, and the business of life easy. It is written of Mrs. Primrose, the celebrated wife of the Vicar of Wakefield, that she would have her daughters each carry in their pockets a guinea, without ever changing it, to keep them in spirits. If a single guinea has such virtue, what may not be expected from a long and heavy purse, well stuffed with them? It must doubtless do wonders. There are those who maintain that many evils arise from the length and heaviness of the purse; that it makes prodigals of young heirs, and instigates them to all manner of excesses. But that their purse is not to be blamed may readily be proved. For money is just as willing to do good as to do evil, nay it answers its own purpose best by being the instrument of happiness to human kind. If it does, a man's money is no more to blame for his crimes than his bodily strength for his committing murder. For my part, though I have never experienced so much of the benefit of money, as some men have, yet the little I have had, has done me so much good, that I most earnestly desire to have more; and I shall think it strange if you doubt of my sincerity in this assertion. I have a strong imagination that if I had a great fortune, I should do much good with it; and if I could handsomely come to the possession of an affluent estate, I have so much confidence in my own integrity, that I should

not be afraid to trust myself with it. And while I am wishing for a great plenty of money myself, I cannot help wishing that my neighbours had more than they now possess; and in this respect, I hope I have the happiness of coinciding with their own ideas.

THE FOX AND THE CROW.

THE fox and the crow,
In prose I well know
Many good little girls can rehearse ;
Perhaps it will tell

Pretty nearly as well,

If we try the same fable in verse.

In a dairy, a crow
Having ventured to go,

Some food for her young ones to seek,
Flew up in the trees,

With a fine piece of cheese,
Which she joyfully held in her beak.

A fox who lived nigh,
To the tree saw her fly,
And to share in the prize made a vow!
For having just dined,

He for cheese felt inclined,
So he went and sat under the bough.

She was cunning, he knew,
But so was he too,
And with flattery adapted his plan;
For he knew if she'd speak,
It must fall from her beak,

So bowing politely, began:

""Tis a very fine day;"

(Not a word did she say ;)
"The wind, I believe, ma'am, is south;
A fine harvest for pease :"

He then looked at the cheese,
But the crow didn't open her mouth.

Sly reynard, not tired,
Her plumage admired,

"How charming! how brilliant its hue!
The voice must be fine

Of a bird so divine,
Ah! let me just hear it-pray do.

"Believe me, I long

To hear a sweet song."

The silly crow foolishly tries,

She scarce gave one squall,

When the cheese she let fall,
And the fox ran away with the prize.

THE BEDLAMITE.

A patient in bedlam who did pretty well,
Was permitted sometimes to go out of his cell;
One day, when they gave him his freedom, he spied
A dashing young spark, with a sword by his side.
The keeper suppressed the young soldier's alarm,
With-" be not afraid, sir, he'll do you no harm."
As soon as the gentleman came on the ground,
The bedlamite ran and surveyed him all round.
Ha! ha! he exclaimed, well, a mighty fine show!
Shall I ask you one question? What's that, said the

beau;

Why, what's that long dangling cumbersome thing,
That you seem to be tied to, with ribbon and string?
Why, that is my sword! And what's it to do?
Kill my enemies, surely, by running them through.
Kill your
enemies! sure, that's a thought I'd not own ;
They'll die of themselves, if you let them alone.

THE COLONISTS.

Mr. Barlow. Come boys, I have a new play for you. I will be the founder of a colony; and you shall be people of different trades and professions, coming to offer yourselves to go with me.-What are you, Arthur?

A. I am a farmer, sir.

Mr. B. Very well! Farming is the chief thing we have to depend upon. The farmer puts the seed into the earth, and takes care of it when it is grown to the ripe corn; without the farmer we should have no bread. But you must work very hard, there will be trees to cut down, and roots to dig, and a great deal of labour.

A. I shall be ready to do my part.

Mr. B. Well, then, I shall take you willingly, and as many more such good fellows as you can find. We shall have land enough; and you may fall to work as soon as you please. Now for the next. Beverly. I am a miller, sir.

Mr. B. A very useful trade! our corn must be ground, or it will do us little good, but what must we do for a mill, my friend?

B. I suppose we must make one.

Mr. B. Then we must take a millwright with us, and carry millstones. Who is next?

Charles. I am a carpenter, sir.

Mr. B. The most necessary man that could offer. We shall find you work enough, never fear.

There

will be houses to build, fences to make, and chairs and tables besides. But all our timber is growing; we shall have hard work to fell it, to saw planks, and to shape posts.

C. I will do my best, sir.

Mr. B. Then I engage you, but you had better bring two or three able hands along with you.

Delville. I am a blacksmith.

Mr. B. An excellent companion for the carpenter. We cannot do without either of you. You must bring your great bellows, and anvil, and we will set up a forge for you, as soon as we arrive. By the by, we shall want a mason for that.

Edward. I am one, sir.

Mr. B. Though we may live in log houses at first, we shall want brick work, or stone work, for chimneys, hearths, and ovens, so there will be employment for a mason. Can you make bricks, and burn lime?

E. I will try what I can do, sir.

Mr. B. No man can do more. I engage you. Who is next?

Francis. I am a shoemaker.

Mr. B. Shoes we cannot do without, but I fear we shall get no leather.

[ocr errors]

F. But I can dress skins, sir.

Mr. B. Can you? Then you are a clever fellow. I will have you, though I give you double wages. George. I am a tailor, sir.

Mr. B. We must not go naked; so there will be

« PreviousContinue »