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12. We would brush his bright hide till 'twas free from a

speck;

We kissed his brown muzzle, and hugged his thick neck;
Oh! we prized him like life, and a heart-breaking sob
Ever burst when they threatened to sell our dear Dob.

13. He stood to the collar, and tugged up the hill, With the pigs to the market, the grist to the mill; With saddle or halter, in shaft or in trace,

He was stanch to his work, and content with his place.

14. When the hot sun was crowning the toil of the year,
He was sent to the reapers with ale and good cheer;
And none in the corn-field more welcome was seen
Than Dob and his well-laden panniers, I ween.

15. Oh! those days of pure bliss shall I ever forget, When we decked out his head with the azure rosette; All frantic with joy to be off to the fair,

With Dobbin, good Dobbin, to carry us there?

16. He was dear to us all, ay, for many long years;
But, mercy! how's this? my eye's filling with tears.
Oh! how cruelly sweet are the echoes that start
When Memory plays an old tune on the heart.

17. There are drops on my cheek, there's a throb in my breast,

But my song
shall not cease, nor my pen take its rest,
Till I tell that old Dobbin still lives to be seen,
With his oats in the stable, his tares on the green.

18. His best years have gone by, and the master who gave The stern yoke to his youth has enfranchised the slave. So browse on, my old Dobbin, nor dream of the knife, For the wealth of a king should not purchase thy life.

STRIKE!-RALPH HOYT.

1. I've a liking for this "striking,"

If we only do it well;

Firm, defiant, like a giant,

Strike!-and make the effort tell!

2. One another, working brother, Let us freely now advise; For reflection and correction

Help to make us great and wise.

3. Work and wages, say the sages,
Go forever hand in hand;

As the motion of an ocean,
The supply and the demand.

4. My advice is, strike for prices
Nobler far than sordid coin;
Strike with terror, sin and error,
And let man and master join.

5. Every failing now prevailing

In the heart, or in the head,—
Make no clamor,—take the hammer,-
Drive it down, and strike it dead!

6. Much the chopping, lopping, propping,
Carpenter, we have to do,
Ere the plummet, from the summit,
Mark our moral fabric true.

7. Take the measure of false pleasure;
Try each action by the square;

Strike a chalk-line, for you walk fine;
Strike, to keep your footsteps there;

8. The foundation of creation

Lies in truth's unerring laws:
Man of mortar, there's no shorter
Way to base a righteous cause.

9. Every builder, painter, gilder,
Man of leather, man of clothes,
Each mechanic in a panic

With the way his labor goes.

10. Let him reason thus in season;
Strike the root of all his wrong,

Cease his quarrels, mend his morals,
And be happy, rich, and strong.

THE QUAKER AND THE SOLDIER. STEELE.

1. HAVING notified to my good friend Sir Roger, that I should set out for London the next day, his horses were ready at the appointed hour in the evening; and, attended by one of his grooms, I arrived at the county town at twilight, in order to be ready for the stage-coach the day following. As soon as we arrived at the inn, the servant who waited upon me, inquired of the chamberlain, in my hearing, what company he had for the coach?

2. The fellow answered, Mrs. Betty Arable the great fortune, and the widow her mother; a recruiting officer (who took a place because they were to go), young 'squire Quickset her cousin, that her mother wished her to be married to; Ephraim the Quaker, her guardian; and a gentleman that had studied himself dumb, from Sir Roger de Coverley's.

3. I observed, by what he said of myself, that, according to his office he had dealt much in intelligence; and doubted not there was some foundation for his reports of the rest of the

company, as well as for the whimsical account he gave of me. The next morning at day break we were all called; and I, who know my own natural shyness, and endeavored to be as little liable to be disputed with as possible, dressed immediately, that I might make no one wait. 1

4. The first preparation for our setting out was, that the captain's half-pike was placed near the coachman, and a drum behind the coach. In the meantime the drummer, the captain's equipage, was very loud, that none of the captain's things should be placed so as to be spoiled: upon which his cloak-bag was fixed in the seat of the coach; and the captain himself, according to a frequent, though invidious behavior of military men, ordered his man to look sharp, that none but one of the ladies should have the place he had taken fronting the coach-box.

5. We were in some little time fixed in our seats, and sat with that dislike which people not too good-natured usually conceive of each other at first sight. The coach jumbled us insensibly into some sort of familiarity; and we had not moved above two miles, when the widow asked the captain what success he had in his recruiting? The officer, with a frankness he believed very graceful, told her, "that indeed he had but very little luck, and had suffered much by desertion; therefore, should be glad to end his warfare in the service of her or her fair daughter! In a word," continued he, “I am a soldier, and to be plain is my character: you see me, Madam, young, sound, and impudent: take me yourself, widow, or give me to her; I will be wholly at your disposal.

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6. "I am a soldier of fortune, ha !" This was followed by a vain laugh of his own and a deep silence of all the rest of the company. I had nothing left for it but to fall fast asleep, which I did with all speed. Come," said he, "resolve upon it, we will make a wedding at the next town; we will wake this pleasant companion, who is fallen asleep, to be the bride-man; and," (giving the quaker a clap on the knee) he concluded, "this sly saint, who, I'll warrant, understands what's what as well as you or I, widow, shall give the bride as father."

7. The quaker, who happened to be a man of smartness, answered: "Friend, I take it in good part that thou hast given me the authority of a father over this comely and virtuous child; and I must assure thee, that if I have the giving her I shall not bestow her on thee. Thy mirth, friend, savoreth of folly thou art a person of a light mind; thy drum is a type of thee; it soundeth because it is empty.

8. "Verily, it is not from thy fulness, but thy emptiness, that thou hast spoken this day. Friend, friend, we have hired this coach in partnership with thee to carry us to the great city; we cannot go any other way. This worthy mother must hear thee, if thou wilt needs utter thy follies; we cannot help it, friend, I say if thou wilt, we must hear thee; but, if thou wert a man of understanding, thou wouldst not take advantage of thy courageous countenance to abash us children of peace. 9. "Thou art, thou sayest, a soldier; give quarter to us who cannot resist thee.

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Why didst thou fleer at our friend who feigned himself asleep? He said nothing, but how dost thou know what he containeth? if thou speakest improper things in the hearing of this virtuous young virgin, consider it is an outrage against a distressed person that cannot get from thee. To speak indiscreetly what we are obliged to hear, by being hasped up with thee in this public vehicle, is in some degree assaulting on the high road."

10. Here Ephriam paused; and the captain, with a happy and uncommon impudence (which can be convicted and support itself at the same time), cries: "Faith, friend, I thank thee; I should have been a little impertinent, if thou hadst not reprimanded me. Come, thou art, I see, a smoky old fellow, and I'll be very orderly the ensuing part of my journey. I was going to give myself airs, but, ladies, I beg pardon."

11. The captain was so little out of humor, and our company was so far from being soured by this little ruffle, that Ephraim and he took a particular delight in being agreeable

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