It makes one's back ache so, stooping to weed all day, Of sticks and reeds in the dark fir-tree, I shall be famously glad when it's done! I've but a little bit to do—I shall have done in half Where lay his mate and his nestlings three; And whenever he saw the man come by, Dead horse! dead horse!" he was sure to crv, "Croak, croak!" if he went or came, And as you've nothing to do, just run and see if that The cry of the crow was just the same, lavender's in flower Jack looked up as grim as could be, There's a good Harry, do; I'll do seven times as And says, "what's my trade to the like of thee!" much for you; "Dead horse! dead horse! croak, croak! croak, croak!" You know I sewed, yesterday, that old clasp in your shoe. As plain as words to his ear spoke. HARRY.-I'd go, if I thought you'd have done by Old Jack stooped down and picked up a stone, the time I come back; A stout, thick stick, and dry cow's-bone, KITTY. To be sure I shall!-I wish you would not And one and the other all three did throw, waste so much time with your clack! So angry was he, at the carrion crow; HARRY.-Well, just let me pull up my shoe, and put But none of the three reached him or his nest, by this peacock's feather. Where his three young crows lay warm at rest; KITTY.-Nay, you may as well stay now; I've just And "Croak, croak! dead horse! croak, croak !" done, and we'll both go together; In his solemn way again he spoke For I want to show you something like a magpie's Old Jack was angry as he could be, And it is just by the lavender bush, and 't will save As soon as 't was light, if there you had been, There, now I've done my work! and I shall be I would you'd been there to see old Jack, HARRY.-Well, then let us begone; we shall have thwack! thwack!" I didn't think we should have had so much time, and Flew round as the axe's strokes he heard, THE OLD MAN AND THE CARRION CROW. THERE was a man and his name was Jack, And then there was such an unchristian smell! Now this old man did come and go, Flew round as he saw the shaking blow, "Thwack! thwack!" said the axe, said the crow Old Jack looked up with a leer in his eye, So he spit on his hands, and says, "have at the tree!' "Thwack!" says the axe, as the bark it clove; Away flew the crow to the house on the moor, As he flew away to a tree, to watch Then he flapped his wings, and cried, " Croak, croak!" Away to the wood again flew he, In triumph he laughed, and took up a stone, 46 Croak, croak!" came the carrion crow, And the young ones here and there were flung; Make haste, make haste, ere the roof-tree fall!" " Such a dismal ruin ne'er was seen: What shall we do?- where must we go?" "Croak, croak!" says the carrion crow." Now ye who read this story through, MAY FAIR. THERE is a town in Staffordshire, And dear May Fair can make it gayer Come, I'll live over my youth again; 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. 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, All come that can; each farming man 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, To spend his fairing penny. But this of cakes is fonder; And those the Giant yonder. And roving round, see happy folks, With sunny, country faces; And just peep on the bowling-green, To the merry people dancing! See, some give ribbons red and blue, Now hushed is every laugh and joke, To hear a sailor singing, And then how brave "Tom Tough," d' ye see, Ha! there they are- why what a crowd! But let us leave this noisy rout; And let us leave the singing;We have not seen the round-about, Nor have we seen the swinging. We have not seen old wicked Punch His little wife a-beating; We have not thought what must be bought For wearing nor for eating. We have not been to see the shows, The lion and his crony; The child so big - the learned pig Nor yet the learned pony. Why, what a deal we have to do! Come miss, and little master, We shan't get back by nine o'clock, Unless we travel faster! There now, we have seen every thing, And each has got a fairing! And homeward all, both great and small, Are leisurely repairing. And hark! the bells are ringing round, FRENCH AND ENGLISH. THERE were six merry children, all frolic and fun, THE LITTLE MARINER. Ay, sitting on your happy hearths, beside your mother's knee, How should you know the miseries and dangers of the sea! My father was a mariner, and from my earliest years, I can remember, night and day, my mother's prayers and tears. I can remember how she sighed when blew the stormy gale; And how for days she stood to watch the long-expect. ed sail: Hers was a silent, patient grief; but fears and long delay, And wakeful nights and anxious days were wearing her away. And when the gusty winds were loud, and autumn leaves were red, I watched, with heavy heart, beside my mother's dying bed; Just when her voice was feeblest, the neighbours came to say, The ship was hailed an hour before, and then was in the bay. 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 away. 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, hau seen the red-deer chased, And dwelt beneath the piny woods, a hunter of the waste. 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 Hon. duras' 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 sate 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 near, 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 mother's knee, Right merrily, right merrily, our gallant ship went free, Until we neared the rocky shoals within the Western What next I knew, was how at morn, on a bleak barren shore, Out of a hundred mariners, were living only four. I looked around, like one who wakes from dreams of fierce alarm, And round my body still I felt, firm locked, my father's arm. And with a rigid, dying grasp, he closely held me fast, Even as he held me when he seized, at midnight on the mast. With humbled hearts and streaming eyes, down knelt the little band, Praying Him who had preserved their lives, to lend his guiding hand. How should you know the miseries and dangers of the sea! Awakes his little children's glee, 190 That over, dear cousin, we all must be dressed,- Dancing shoes on his feet, à la mode, very fine I can tell you, because there's great work to be done, And each is as light as an Indian canoe ; The Sylph and the Swallow- the loveliest things ten, So come, as I pray you, my dear cousin Ben. As to lend, for our service, the lodge in the wood! When on Tuesday we all must be up with the dawn, But the twang of that bow fifty yards may be heard! And, lest that the water our boats should o'erwhelm, And a lunch will be ready at one-and what then? So, good-bye, my dear cousin ; be sure and come down I went down to Broom Hall, according to my cousin's invitation, by the Nelson. My cousin, and three young gentlemen who lived near, and had ridden over on ponies, were waiting for me at the park-gate, -it was then eleven o'clock. By three, all had arrived. The weather was very fine; the lodge in the forest, one of the sweetest, most picturesque places I ever saw; and Mrs. Hay was in a good humour all the time, though I am sure we gave her a great deal of trouble ;-I have bought two yards of green satin ribbon for Mrs. Hay's cap, which I shall send by Thomas this afternoon; but now to go on with the six days. The matches were kept up with a deal of spirit. Frank Thurlow, as everybody expected, won |