THE FIFTH STANDARD' READER. MISCELLANEOUS. THE WAY FOR BILLY AND ME. Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hazel bank is steepest, Why the boys should drive away But this I know, I love to play THE BEGGAR MAN. AROUND the fire, one wintry night, And jokes went round, and careless chat. When, hark! a gentle hand they hear "Cold blows the blast across the moor; "My eyes are weak and dim with age; And drifting snows my tomb prepare. "Open your hospitable door, And shield me from the biting blast; With hasty step the farmer ran, And close beside the fire they place The poor, half-frozen beggar man, With shaking limbs and pallid face. The little children flocking came, And warm'd his stiff'ning hands in theirs; And busily the good old dame A comfortable mess prepares. Their kindness cheer'd his drooping soul; The children, too, began to sigh, Lucy Aikin. THE PALMER.* "OPEN the door, some pity to show! "No outlawt seeks your castle gate, Might claim compassion here. "A weary Palmer, worn and weak Oh, open, for Our Lady's sake! "The hare is crouching in her form, The hart beside the hind; An aged man, amid the storm, No shelter can I find. "You hear the Ettrick's sullen roar, "The iron gate is bolted hard, At which I knock in vain ; Who hears me thus complain. "Farewell, farewell! and Heaven grant, When old and frail you be, You never may the shelter want That's now denied to me!" *Palmer, pilgrim or wanderer, going to some shrine to fulfil a vow. Outlaw, one whose crimes have deprived him of the protection of the laws. The Ranger on his couch lay warm, For lo! when through the vapors dank A corpse, amid the alders rank, The Palmer welter'd there. Sir W. Scott. THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS, AND HOW HE GAINED THEM. "You are old, Father William," the young man cried, r "In the days of my youth," Father Willian replied, "You are old, Father William," the young man cried, And yet you lament not the days that are gone, Now tell me the reason, I pray." "In the days of my youth," Father William replied, I thought of the future, whatever I did, That I never might grieve for the past." "You are old, Father William," the young man cried, You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death, "I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied, In the days of my youth I remember'd my God, Southey. |