robber's agent the alehouse's benefactor-his wife's sorrow his children's trouble-his own shame-his neighbour's scoff-the picture of a beast—the monster of a man!" Dr. Dodd. A PLAIN MAN'S PHILOSOPHY. I'VE a guinea I can spend, I've a wife, and I've a friend, And a troop of little children at my knee, John Brown ; I've a cottage of my own With the ivy overgrown, And a garden with a view of the sea, John Brown; By my shady sycamore, Large of heart, though of very small estatè, John Brown ; So, come and drain a glass In my arbour as you pass, And I'll tell you what I love and what I hate, John Brown. I love the song of birds, And the children's early words, And a loving woman's voice, low and sweet, John Brown ; But I hate a false pretence, And a want of common sense, And arrogance, and fawning, and deceit, John Brown; I love the meadow flowers, And the brier in the bowers, And I love an open face without guile, John Brown; But I hate a selfish knave, And a proud, contented slave, And a lout who'd rather borrow than he'd toil, John Brown. I love a simple song That awakes emotions strong, And the word of hope that raises him who faints, John Brown; And I hate the constant whine Of the foolish who repine, And turn their good to evil by complaints, John Brown; But even when I hate, And If I seek my garden gate, survey the world around me, and above, John Brown, The hatred flies my mind, And I sigh for human kind, And excuse the faults of those I cannot love, John Brown. So, if you like my ways, And the comfort of my days, I will tell you how I live so unvex'd, John Brown; I never scorn my health, Nor sell my soul for wealth, Nor destroy one day the pleasures of the next, John Brown; I've parted with my pride, And I take the sunny side, For I've found it worse than folly to be sad, John Brown; I keep my conscience clear, I've a hundred pounds a year, And I manage to exist and to be glad, John Brown. CHARLES MACKAY. THE BUNDLE OF STICKS. A GOOD old man, no matter where, It cannot much concern the tale,- His luck was what his neighbours had, He call'd his children round his bed, Who thus expounded his intent; way, "I wish that all of you would take it, And try if any one can break it." Obedient to the good old man, They all to try their strength began: Now boy, now girl, now he, now she, Applied the faggot to their knee; They tugg'd, and strain'd, and tried again, But still they tugg'd, and tried in vain: In vain their skill and strength exerted; The faggot every effort thwarted; Again the good old man proceeded Following the words their father spoke, Each sprig and spray they quickly broke ; "There father!" all began to cry, "I've broken mine!-and I! and I!" While you are join'd in friendship's throng, You undermine affection's root, And thus the strength'ning cord divide, |