THE SAILOR'S WIFE.
A TALE OF THE SEA.

HEAVEN keep the wives of seamen,

And bless their children small,
For they have power to cheer us,
If sorrow should befall!

I'll tell you how the thoughts of them
Once saved a ship in need,
As if they'd been the seraphim
That had of us good heed.

A stout ship was the Halcyon,
As ever sailed the sea;
The crew that manned the Halcyon,
Were thirty hands and three.

I was the good ship's purser,
The ocean was my joy —
The waves had been my playmates
When I was but a boy.

The master of the Halcyon

Was good as he was bold;
Let the name of William Morrison
Throughout the world be told!
We heaved the Halcyon's anchor
On the twenty-first of May,
And from our wives and children
With sorrow went away.

My wife was bonny Betsy,

Both trim and true was she;
We called the good ship after her,
When next we went to sea:
And how this glory chanced to her
I'll tell ye presently.

With her I left two children,

More dear than mines of goldAnother dark-haired Betsy,

And a boy scarce two years old. Said I, "My bonny Betsy,

These idle tears restrain;
The happy day will soon come round,
When we shall meet again!

"So, fare-ye-well, my jewels!"
Said 1, in feigned glee,
For I feared the pain of parting,
Would make a child of me.

We went on board the Halcyon,
On the twenty-first of May,
And with a fresh and prosperous gale,
From England bore away.

We were bound unto the islands
In the South Pacific sea;

And many a day, and many a week,
We sailed on prosperously.
But then a dreadful malady
Broke out among the crew;
The ocean-waves rolled heavily,
And the hot wind scarcely blew!

"T was on a Monday morning,
When first the plague appeared,
About the latter days of June,
When the Equinox we neared.

The brave men gazed in sorrow,
The weak men in despair-
As the reaper in the harvest-field,
Death drove his sickle there!

They died within the hammock,
They dropped from off the shroud;
And then they 'gan to murmur,

And misery spoke aloud.

When at the helm the helmsman died,
All care of life seemed gone;

We sate in stupid anguish,
And let the ship drive on.

We looked upon each other

In terror and dismay;
We feared each other's company,
And longed to get away.

But death was in the vessel,

And death was on the sea;

Said they, "we'll launch the long-boat,
And so part company."

In all we were but thirteen men;
And with that sluggish wind,
Six of our number put to sea,

And seven remained behind.

In vain the captain urged them

By the vessel to remain; But woe had made them reckless, And they answered not again. We saw throughout that weary day, A westward course they bore; But we lost them on the morrow, And never saw them more.

Our captain sate among us,

As he for long had done,

And cheered with comfortable words,
When comfort else was none.

Said he, "My brave companions,
Still let us nobly strive,
And for our wives and children,
Keep fainting hope alive!

"There was one, the bonny Betsy,
With a child in either hand
I saw her tears at parting,

As she stood on the strand.
"We all have wives in England —
Come, yield not to dismay;
Let's give a cheer for Betsy,

And do the best we may!

"Ye shall live to smile at sorrow!Brave hearts, let's down with pain! Please God, we 'll bring the Halcyon To England once again!

So spoke good William Morrison, His tears but half repressed; And all rose up as if renewed, And vowed to do our best.

It seemed the plague had left us,
And we were strong men all,
When we thought on those who loved us,
Our wives and children small.

And soon upsprung a cooling gale,
A cool gale and a strong;
And from those deadly latitudes
The good ship bore along.

We were but seven mariners,
And yet we were enow;
And we cheered for bonny Betsy,
With every rope we drew.

They looked on me with kindness,
As on we gaily moved;
For each man in my Betsy

Beheld the wife he loved.

Heaven bless the wives of seamen,
And be their children's stay,
For they have power to cheer us,
When we are far away!

And so we made our voyage

Across the southern main,
And brought that gallant vessel
To England safe again.

They named her there the "Betsy,"
Before the second trip;
And I'll abide beside her,

As long as she's a ship!

Now let us cheer for joy in store,
For sorrow that is gone,

And for my bonny Betsy,
And Captain Morrison!

THE MORNING DRIVE.

A PLAY FOR VERY LITTLE CHILDREN.
OH, dear mamma! I'm glad you've come!
Pray look, for we pretend,
I'm riding in a pony chaise
To see an absent friend.

Now, is it not a famous scheme,
As like as chaise can be?
And such a noble horse as this
We very seldom see.

For 't is a true Arabian,

As white as driven snow; "T was bounding o'er the desert sands Not many months ago!

And we pretend we speed along,

Like arrows in the wind;
And Charley is my servant lad,
Who gallops just behind.

And so, mamma, we're driving out —
And 'tis a morn in May;

And we can scent the hawthorn flowers,
As we go by the way.

And we can see the bird-cherry
Upon the green hills wide,
And cowslips pale and orchises,
And many flowers beside.

And little lambs are all at play;
And birds are singing clear;
Now is it not a charming thing,

To be thus driving here?

And oh, mamma! we've seen such things!

Charley would have it soAlthough a little servant lad

Should not dictate, you know. And first we met a drove of pigs,

Great Irish pigs and strong; And oh! I so much trouble had,

To get the horse along!

And then a great, wild Highland herd
Filled all the narrow road;
They looked like mountain buffaloes,
And wildly stared and lowed;

And 'neath their shaggy brows, on us
Such dismal looks they cast!
Mamma, 'twas really wonderful
How ever we got past!

And coaches we have met, and carts,
And beggars lame and blind;
And all to please this serving-boy,
Who gallops just behind.

Come up, my little horse, come up,
I'm sure you can't be tired;
You never must be weary, sir,

When you're so much admired!

There, now we're at the turnpike gate,
And now we 're driven through;
Over the hill, my little horse,

And then the town's in view.

There, now we're in the town itself;

"Smith," "Hopkins," "Cook and Jones;" One scarce can read these great gilt names, For jumbling o'er the stones!

And now we pass "The Old Green Man,"
And now we pass "The Sun;"
And next across the market-place,
And then the journey's done.

Ah! now I see the very house

And there's the drawing-room; Charley, alight, and give my card, And ask if they're at home.

Oh yes! I see them every one, There's Anne and Jane and Kate; No, Charley, now you need not ring, For they are at the gate.

And now, mamma, that we are here,
Will you pretend to be,
The ladies all so kind and good,
Whom we are come to see?

THE FOUND TREASURE.

OH, Harry, come hither, and lay down your book,
And see what a treasure I've found! only look!
"T is as handsome a kitten as ever you saw,
Equipped like a cat, with tail, whisker, and claw.
See, here it is ready for pastime and freak,
Though it looks at this moment so sober and meek:
Yes, Harry, examine it over and over,
"T is really the kitten no one could discover!
Oh Kit, we have sought you above and below;
We have gone where a mouser never could go;
We have hunted in garrets with diligent care,
In chambers and closets-but you were not there;
We have been in dark corners with lanterns to see,
We've peeped in the hayloft if there you might be;
And the parlour and kitchen we 've searched through
and through,

And listened in vain for your musical mew!

And who would have thought that a sensible puss, As your mother is deemed, would have harassed us thus!

Then to bury you here, in this odd, little den!
But you never, my Kit, shall be buried again;
You shall go to the parlour, and sit on the hearth,
And there we will laugh at your frolicsome mirth;
You shall caper about on the warm kitchen floor,
And in the hot sunshine shall bask at the door.

You shall have a round cork at the end of a string
Tied up to the table, you grey, little thing!
You shall twirl round and round, like a brisk wind-
mill sail,

You poor little simpleton, after your tail;
And jump in affright from a shade on the wall;
And spring, like a tiger, on nothing at all—
While my father will lay his old book on his knee,
And my mother look up from her knitting to see.

I am glad we have found you before you were wise,
And had learned all a kitten's arch ways to despise ;
Before you grew sober, demure, and all that,
And adhered to grave rules, like a well-behaved
cat!

Come Kitty, we'll take you, this same afternoon,
And show you about, like a man from the moon.
There, down in your basket, we 'll cover you so,
And ask but a pin for a peep at the show!