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The corn to thrash, or the hedge to plash,
The market-team to drive,

Or mend the fence by the cover side,
And leave the game alive.

Ay, only give me work,

And then you need not fear
That I shall snare his worship's hare
Or kill his grace's deer;
Break into his lordship's house,

To steal the plate so rich;

Or leave the yeoman that had a purse
To welter in a ditch.

Wherever Nature needs,

Wherever Labour calls,

No job I'll shirk of the hardest work,
To shun the workhouse walls;
Where savage laws begrudge

The pauper babe its breath,
And doom a wife to a widow's life
Before her partner's death!

My only claim is this,

With labour stiff and stark,
By lawful turn my living to earn,
Between the light and dark;
My daily bread and nightly bed,
My bacon, and drop of beer,

But all from the hand that holds the land,

And none from the overseer!

No parish money or loaf,

No pauper-badges for me,

A son of the soil-by right of toil

Entitled to my fee.

No alms I ask, give me my task,

Here are the arm, the leg,

The strength, and sinews of a man,
To work, and not to beg.

Still one of Adam's heirs,

Though doom'd, by chance of birth, To dress so mean, and to eat the lean, Instead of the fat of the earth;


To make such humble meals

As honest labour can,

A bone and a crust, with a grace to God,
And little thanks to man!

A spade! a rake! a hoe!
A pickaxe, or a bill!

A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow,

A flail, or what ye will-
Whatever the tool to ply,

Here is a willing drudge,

With muscle and limb, and woe to him
Who does their pay begrudge!

Who every weekly score

Docks labour's little mite,

Bestows on the poor at the temple door,
But robb'd them over night.
The very shilling he hoped to save,
As health and morals fail,

Shall visit me in the New Bastile,
The Spital, or the Gaol!




"THE common bias of the mind undoubtedly is (such is the benevolent appointment of Providence), to think favourably of the future; to overvalue the chances of possible good, and to underrate the risks of possible evil; and in the case of some fortunate individuals, this disposition remains after a thousand disappointments. To what this bias of our nature is owing, it is not material for us to inquire: the fact is certain, and it is an important one to our happiness. It supports us under the real distresses of life, and cheers and animates all our labours. * * * * When such a temper is united (as it commonly is) with pleasing notions concerning the order of the universe, and in particular concerning the condition and the prospects of man, it places our happiness in a great measure, beyond the power of fortune. While it adds a double relish to every enjoyment, it blunts the edge of all our sufferings; and even when human life presents to us no object on which our hopes can rest, it invites the imagination beyond the dark and troubled horizon which terminates all our earthly prospects, to wander unconfined in the regions of futurity. A man of benevolence, whose mind is enlarged by philosophy, will indulge the same agreeable anticipations, with respect to society; will view all the different improvements in arts, in commerce, and in the sciences,

as co-operating to promote the union, the happiness, and the virtue of mankind; and, amidst the political disorders resulting from the prejudices and follies of his own times, will look forward with transport to the blessings which are reserved for posterity in a more enlightened age."-Dugald Stewart.

THERE's a good time coming yet,
A good time coming;

We may not live to see the day,
But earth shall glisten in the ray
Of the good time coming.
Cannon-balls may aid the truth,
But thought's a weapon stronger;
We'll win our battle by its aid—
Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming yet,
A good time coming;

The pen shall supersede the sword,
And right, not might, shall be the lord,
In the good time coming.

Worth, not birth, shall rule mankind,
And be acknowledged stronger;
The proper impulse has been given-
Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming yet,
A good time coming.
Hateful rivalries of creed,

Shall not make their martyrs bleed

In the good time coming.
Religion shall be shorn of pride,
And flourish all the stronger :
And Charity shall trim her lamp-
Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming yet,
A good time coming;
War in all men's eyes shall be
A monster of iniquity

In the good time coming;
Nations shall not quarrel then,
To prove which is the stronger,

Nor slaughter men for glory's sake-
Wait a little longer.





"It was a wise injunction to Timothy, 'to be instant in season and out of season,' because we so often fancy that a word would be out of season, when it would, in fact, be seasonable.”—Arnold.

KEEP pushing 'tis wiser
Than sitting aside,
And dreaming and sighing
And waiting the tide.
In life's earnest battle
They only prevail
Who daily march onward
And never say fail!

With an eye ever open,

A tongue that's not dumb,
And a heart that will never
To sorrow succumb-
You'll battle and conquer
Though thousands assail;
How strong and how mighty!
Who never say fail!

The spirit of angels

Is active I know,
As higher and higher
In glory they go;
Methinks on bright pinions
From Heaven they sail,
To cheer and encourage
Who never say fail!

Ahead then keep pushing,
And elbow your way,
Unheeding the envious,
And asses that bray;
All obstacles vanish,
All enemies quail,
In the might of their wisdom
Who never say fail!

In life's rosy morning,

In manhood's firm pride,
Let this be the motto
Your footsteps to guide;

In storm and in sunshine,
Whatever assail,

We'll onward and conquer,
And never say fail!



"Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways and be wise, which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest. How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? When wilt thou arise out of thy sleep? Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep: so shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man.' -Proverbs vi., 6-11.

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"TIs the voice of the sluggard-I heard him complain,
"You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again."

As the door' on its hinges, so he on his bed

Turns his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy head.

"A little more sleep, and a little more slumber."

Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours without number;
And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands,
Or walks about saunt'ring, or trifling he stands.


I pass'd by his garden, and saw the wild brier,
The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher ;3
The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags;
And his money still wastes, till he starves or he begs.
I made him a visit, still hoping to find
He had taken more care for improving his mind;
He told me his dreams, talk'd of eating and drinking,
But he scarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking.
Said I then to my heart," Here's a lesson for me,
That man's but a picture of what I might be ;
But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding,
Who taught me by times to love working and reading."

1. What is door the nominative to?
2. Why heavy head?

3. Broader and higher than what?
4. Said I then to my heart, have we


any other phrase signifying the same thing?

5. What part of speech is but here?

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