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Away to the wood again flew he,
And soon he espied the slanting tree,
And Jack, who stood laughing with all his might,
His axe in his hand - he laughed for spite ;
In triumph he laughed, and took up a stone,
And hammered his axe-head faster on;
“ Croak, croak!" came the carrion crow,
Flapping his wings with a motion slow;

Thwack, thwack!" the spiteful man,
When he heard his cry, with his axe began;
""Thwack, thwack!” stroke upon stroke;
The crow flew by with a “ Croak, croak !"
With a “Croak, croak !" again he came,
Just as the house burst into flame.
With a splitting crash, and a crackling sound,
Down came the tree unto the ground;
The old crow's nest afar was swung,
And the young ones here and there were flung;
And just at that moment came up a cry,
" Oh Jack, make haste, or else we die ;
The house is on fire, consuming all,
Make haste, make haste, ere the roof-tree fall!"
The young crows every one were dead;
But the old crow croaked above his head;
And the mother-crow on Jack she springs,
And flape in his face her great, black wings;
And all the while he hears a wail,
That turns his cheek from red to pale -
"T was wife and children standing there
Wringing their hands and tearing their hair!
"Oh woe, our house is burnt to cinder,
Bedding and clothes all turned to tinder;
Down to the very hearth-stone clean,
Such a dismal rain ne'er was seen:
“What shall we do? - where must we go ?”
“Croak, croak !" says the carrion crow.”

With happy folks beside us then,

Their smiles like summer weather ;
See how the women and the men

Come trooping in together.
And some come with a hobbling gait,

And some come tripping proudly,
And some come looking quite sedate,

And some come laughing loudly.
All come that can; each farming man

His best blue coat is wearing,
And cart and gig, and shandry dan,

Bring fine folks to the fair in. And little lads, brimful of glee,

With hands their pockets thrust in ; And trowsers turned up neatly, see,

To keep their shoes from dusting. Now crowd they all amid the rout,

As full of mirth as any,
Each looking eagerly about

To spend his fairing penny.
And this will buy a cow and calf-

But this of cakes is sonder;
And these will go to see the Dwarf,

And those the Giant yonder.
And roving round, see happy folks,

With sunny, country faces;
Some cracking nuts, some cracking jokes,

Some wearing modish graces.
And just peep on the bowling-green,

What capering and what prancing;
He's fiddling there a merry air,

To the merry people dancing!
Now, see those girls with one accord,

Around that booth are staring;
And many a lad has spent his hoard,

To buy a handsome fairing.
See, some give ribbons red and blue,

And some give green and yellow ;
And some give rings and brooches too,

To show a generous fellow.
Now hushed is every laugh and joke,

To hear a sailor singing,
How “ Poll of Plymouth's" heart was broke,

And "Monmouth's bells were ringing." And then how brave “ Tom Tough," d'ye see,

Brought to the Frenchmen ruin; or - Barbara Allen's cruelty,"

And “Crazy Jane's" undoing. But ere he has the next begun,

See, round all eyes are glancing
He stands alone, for all are gone

To see the dogs a-dancing !
Ha! there they are — why what a crowd!

And what a deafening racket!
Well may they stare, for there's a bear,
And monkey in a jacket!

Now ye who read this story through,
Heed well the moral - 't is for you ; -
Strife brings forth strife; be meek and kind;
See all things with a loving mind;
Nor e'er by passion be misled,
Jack by himself was punished.


THERE is a town in Staffordshire,

That I was born and bred in,
And dear May Fair can make it gayer

Than even a royal wedding.
Come, I 'll live over my youth again;

Life has enough of sorrow;
From by-gone things we 'll mirth obtain,

And think of care to-morrow.

Come, we 'll be drest in all our best ;

For hark, the bells are ringing ; And there's no sign of rain to-day,

And all the birds are singing.

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Alas! too late the ship returned, too late her life to

save; My father closed her dying eyes, and laid her in the

grave. He was a man of ardent hopes, who never knew dis

may; And, spite of grief, the winter-time wore cheerfully



THERE were six merry children, all frolic and fun,
At play on a green 'neath the Midsummer sun;
And thus they sang, in their heartsome glee,-
“ We're French and English-three against three !
These are the Frenchmen, meagre and thin,
Hop, skip and jump. do you think they 'll win?
These are the Englishmen, sturdy and stout;
Brave in the battle, they 'll win, no doubt.
Pull away, pull with all your might -
Pull away - that's the way we fight!
• Twenty battles we fight in a day;
Some we win, as best we may;
Some we lose, but we care not a pin-
If we did not laugh, we should always win.
French and English - here we stand
Three in an army, on either hand!
Pull away, pull with all your might -
Pull away - that's the way we fight!

He had crossed the equinoctial line, full seven times

or more, And sailing northward, had been wrecked on icy

Labrador : He knew the Spice-isles, every one, where the clove

and nutmeg grow, And the aloe towers a stately tree with clustering

bells of snow.

He had gone the length of Hindostan, down Ganges'

holy flood; Through Persia, where the peacock broods a wild

bird of the wood; And, in the forests of the West, had seen the red-deer

chased, And dwelt beneath the piny woods, a hunter of the


“Who cares for a battle, where nobody's slain;
They who are down may get up again!
None run away, like a coward or knave-
Frenchmen and Englishmen, all are brave!
Now again let the battle be tried,
Three for an army on either side ;
Pall away, pull with all your might -
Pull away — that's the way we fight!"

Oh! pleasant were the tales he told of lands so

strange and new; And, in my ignorance I vowed, I'd be a sailor too : My father heard my vow with joy,—so in the early

May, We went on board a merchant-man, bound for Honduras' bay.


Right merrily, right merrily, we sailed before the And day by day, though burning thirst and pining wind,

hunger came, With a briskly heaving sea before, and the lands. His mercy, through our misery, preserved each droopman's cheer behind.

ing frame : There was joy for me in every league, delight on And after months of weary woe, sickness, and travel every strand,

sore, And I sale for days on the high fore-top, on the long He sent the blessed English ship that took us from look-out for land.

that shore.

There was joy for me in the nightly watch, on the And now, without a home or friend, I wander far burning Tropic seas,

and pear, To mark the waves, like living fires, leap up to the And tell my miserable tale to all who lend an ear. freshening breeze.

Thus sitting by your happy hearths, beside your mo Right merrily, right merrily, our gallant ship went ther's knee, free,

How should you know the miseries and dangers of Until we neared the rocky shoals within the Western the sea!


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Unchanged—unchanged !—the very flower

That grew in Eden droopingly –
And now beside the peasant's door

Awakes his little children's glee,
Even as it filled his heart with joy
Beside his mother's door, a boy!
The same — and to his heart it brings
The freshness of those vanished springs!
Bloom then fair flower in sun and shade,
For deep thought in thy cup is laid ;
And careless children, in their glee,
A sacred memory make of thee !

That over, dear cousin, we all must be dressed, A POETICAL LETTER.

'T is my sister Bell's birth-day,-quite spruce, in our


Dancing shoes on his feet, à la mode, very fine,

Broom Hall, June 7th. And mamma has invited us that day to dine; MY DEAR Cousin Ben,

And Bell has invited nine friends of her own With infinite pleasure this letter I pen,

Just a partner a-piece – they are all to you known; To beg you will come, like a very good friend, Miss Paget, Miss Ellis, Miss White, and the rest, Six days of delight in the country to spend. And that beautiful dancer, the pretty Miss West : Pray ask your pa pa, and on Monday I 'll wait But I won't stop to tell you the names of them all, (You can come by the Nelson) beside the park-gate; But the archery victor will open the ball. And, there's a good fellow, bring with you your bow, On Friday, betimes, has been fixed for our going And your new bat and ball; - if the reason you 'd Five miles down the river, a grand match of rowing. know,

Two boats are got ready, and moored in our view, I can tell you, because there 's great work to be done, And each is as light as an Indian canoe ; At shooting and cricket a match to be won: The Sylph and the Swallow — the loveliest things And to make it a pleasure the less to be slighted, That e'er skimmed the water, dear Ben, without Eight other young gentlemen have been invited,

wings! Their names are as follow-all promise they'll come- And, lest that the water our boats should o'erwhelm, First, merry Tom Wilmot, we call him Tom Thumb; Papa and my uncle will each take a helm; The two Master Nortons, and witty Dick Hall, And my uncle, you know, an old sailor has been, And elever George Nugent, so famous at ball; And papa 's the best helmsman that ever was seen. Ned Stevens the sailor, and gay Herman Blair, So tell your mamma there's no danger at all,And lastly Frank Thurlow, the great cricket-player. We shall not be o'erset or by shallow or squall. And now if you 'll count them you 'll find there are the prize for that day has not yet been decided, ten,

But before it is wanted it will be provided. So come, as I pray you, my dear cousin Ben. On Saturday, Ben, is a great day of sorrow, And to give you some notion of how we're to spend 'T will half spoil the rowing to have such a morrow : These six days of triumph, dear cousin, attend ; - But papa has determined that morning to spend But first I must tell you, papa is so good

In chemical wonders that scarce have an end As to lend, for our service, the lodge in the wood ! Among waters and fires, and vapours and smokeHe has had it repaired, and from Cornwall to Fise, On my word, cousin Ben, how you 'll laugh at the You ne'er saw such a snug liule place in your life; joke. With a low, rustic roof, and a curious old door, And a lunch will be ready at one - and what then ? With a dozen straw chairs, and new mats on the floor: Why each one must go to his home back again. And there we're to live. jovial fellows, indeed, With good store of poultry, and fruit for onr need;

So, good-bye, my dear cousin; be sure and come down And there the old housekeeper, blithe Mrs. Ilay,

By the Nelson on Monday — the fare is a crown

And more than a crown's worth of pleasure you 'll Is to cook us a capital dinner each day;

get And mamma has provided us dainties enow,

And the lodge in the forest you 'll never forget. Tarts, jellies, and custards, and syllabubs too! So come, my dear fellow, and with us partake Papa and mamma and my sister, unite These six days of triumph-fine sport we shall make! In love to my aunt and my uncle.—Good night! And now I 'll go on telling what is to be done :- And believe me, dear fellow, Imprimis, on Monday begins all the fun;

As true as can be, All ready in order, the guests will arrive

Yours, anxiously waiting Half-a-score of the merriest fellows alive!

J. W. C. When on Tuesday we all must be up with the dawn, For a great march of cricket we have on the lawn; [MEMORANDUM.)

June 18h. The prize will be hung up aloft on a tree, I went down to Broom Hall, according to my cousin's A new bat and ball -- as complete as can be. invitation, by the Nelson. My cousin, and three On Wednesday, a pleasant excursion we make, young gentlemen who lived near, and had ridden Each equipped à la Walton, to fish in the lake; over on ponies, were waiting for me at the park-gate, And all that we catch, whether minnow or whale, -it was then eleven o'clock. By three, all had arWill be cooked for our supper, that night, without fail. rived. The weather was very fine; the lodge in the On the morning of Thursday, gay archers are we, forest, one of the sweetest, most picturesque places I The target is ready, nailed up on a tree;

ever saw; and Mrs. Hay was in a good humour all And the prize-such a bow and such arrows!-my the time, though I am sure we gave her a great deal word,

of trouble ;-1 have bought two yards of green satin Bat the twang of that bow fifty yards may be heard! ribbon for Mrs. Hay's cap, which I shall send by And the king of all archers, even bold Robin Hood, Thomas this afternoon ; but now to go on with the Kad been proud of such arrows to speed through the six days. The matches were kept up with a deal of wood;

spirit. Frank Thurlow, as everybody expected, won

at cricket. I-I am proud to say, got the bow and arrows-the finest things that ever were seen! and they have won me, since then, the prize-arrow at Lady — 's archery meeting. The prize for rowing was gained by the young gentlemen of the Sylph, and was a set of models of the progress of shipbuilding, from the Egyptian raft of reeds, up to an English man-of-war. The young gentlemen of the Sylph drew for it, and it fell by lot to George Nugent; and with this every one was satisfied; for he is a general favourite.

All this I would have told in rhyme, that it might have matched my cousin's letter, but I am a bad hand at verse-making.


The boy went to the sea, and Alice

In a sweet dale, by Simmer Water, Where dwelled her parents, there dwelt sbe With a poor peasant's family,

And was among them as a daughter.
Each day she did her household part,

Singing like some light-hearted bird ;
Or sate upon the lonely fells
Whole days among the heather-bells,

To keep the peasant's little herd.
Poor Alice, she was kind and good ;

Yet oft upon the mountains lone
Her heart was sad, and 'mong the sheep,
When no eye saw her, she would weep

For many sorrows of her own.


They sate upon the green hill-side,

Sweet Alice Fleming and her brother; “Now tell me, Alice,” said the youth, “And tell me in sincerest truth,

Thy thoughts no longer smother,-

“Wherefore I should not go to sea ?

Dost fear that evil will befall. Dost think I surely must be drowned, Or that our ship will run aground,

And each wind blow a squall ?

“ Dear Alice, be not faint of heart,

Thou need'st not have a fear for me; I know we're orphans — but despite Our homely lot, in God's good sight,

I'll be a father unto thee!

“Cheer up, cheer up! the ship is stout;

A well-built ship and beautiful, I know the crew, all brave and kind As e'er spread canvas to the wind

• The Adventure,' bound from Hull;

Sweet maiden — and she yet must weep.

Her brother meantime far away Sailed in that ship so stout and good, With hopeful spirit unsubdued,

Beyond the farthest northern bay. The voyage was good, his heart was light;

He loved the sea, - and now once more He sailed upon another trip With the same captain, the same ship

In the glad spring, for Elsinore. Again, unto the Bothnian Gulf

But 't was a voyage of wreck and sorrow ; The captain died upon the shore Where he was cast, and twenty more

Were left among the rocks of Snorro. The boy was picked up by a boat

Belonging to a Danish ship; And as they touched at Riga Bay, They left him there — for what could they

Do with a sick boy on the deep? And there within a hospital

Fevered he lay, and worn and weak, Bowed with great pain, a stranger lad, Who not a friend to soothe him had,

And not a word of Russ could speak.
Amid that solitude and pain

He begged some paper and he wrote
To Alice ; 't was a letter long, –
But then he used his English tongue,

And every sorrow he poured out.
Poor Alice ! did she weep! - ah yes,

She wept, indeed, one live-long day; But then her heart was strong and true, And calmly thus she spoke :-"I too

Will go to Riga Bay!" “ To that wild place!" the people said,

Where none can English understand ? Oh! go not there - depend upon t, He's dead ere now - he does not want Your aid — leave not your native land !"

“A whaler to the northern seas;

And think, what joy to meet again! Dear Alice, when we next sit here, Thou 'lt laugh at every idle fear,

Wilt know all fear is idle then.

“Three voyages I 'll only take,

As a poor ship-boy — thou shalt see So well the seaman's craft I'll learn, That not a man from stem to stern,

But shall be proud of me!

“ Ay, Alice, and some time or other,

I'll have a ship,-nay, it is true, Though thou may'st smile ; and for thy sake I'll call it by thy name, and make

A fortune for us two."

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