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Μ'

LINES TO A LITTLE BOY.

(Robert Chambers.)

Y winsome one, my handsome one, my darling little boy,

The heart's pride of thy mother, and thy father's chiefest joy;

Come ride upon my shoulder, come sit upon my knee,

And prattle all the nonsense that I love to hear from thee:

With thine eyes of merry lustre, and thy pretty lisping tongue,
And thy heart that evermore lets out its humming happy song:
With thy thousand tricks so gleesome, which I bear without annoy,
Come to my arms, come to my soul, my darling little boy!

My gentle one, my blessed one, can that time ever be,
When I to thee shall be severe, or thou unkind to me?
Can any change which time may bring, this glowing passion wreck,
Or clench with rage the little hand now fondling round my neck?
Can this community of sport, to which love brings me down,
Give way to anger's kindling glance, and hate's malignant frown?
No-no, that time can ne'er arrive, for, whatsoe'er befall,
This heart shall still be wholly thine, or shall not be at all;
And to an offering like this thou canst not e'er be coy,
But still wilt be my faithful and my gentle little boy!

My winsome one, my gallant one, so fair, so happy now,

With thy bonnet set so proudly upon thy shining brow,

With thy fearless bounding motions, and thy laugh of thoughtless glee,
So circled by a father's love, which wards each ill from thee!

Can I suppose another time when this shall all be o'er,

And thy cheek shall wear the ruddy badge of happiness no more:
When all who now delight in thee far elsewhere shall have gone,
And thou shalt pilgrimise through life, unfriended and alone,
Without an aid to strengthen or console thy troubled mind,
Save the memory of the love of those who left thee thus behind?
Oh, let me not awake the thought, but, in the present blest,
Make thee a child of wisdom-and to Heaven bequeath the rest :

Far rather let me image thee, in sunny future days,
Outdoing every deed of mine, and wearing brighter bays;
With less to dull thy fervency of recollected pain,

And more to animate thy course of glory and of gain;

A home as happy shall be thine, and I too shall be there,

The blessings purchased by thy worth in peace and love to share-
Shall see within thy beaming eye my early love repaid,
And every ill of failing life a bliss by kindness made-
Shall see thee pour upon thy son, then sitting on thy knee,
A father's gushing tenderness, such as I feel for thee;
And know, as I this moment do, no brighter, better joy,
Than thus to clasp unto thy soul thy darling little boy!

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I

THE LITTLE FACTORY SLAVE.

TO A MORE FORTUNATE PLAYMATE.

(Grimstone.)

OFTEN think how once we used in summer fields to play,

And run about and breathe the air that made us glad and gay:

We used to gather buttercups and chase the butter-fly:

I loved to feel the breezes lift my hair as they went by.

Do you still play in those bright fields, and are the flowers still there?
There are no flowers where I live now-no flowers anywhere;
But day by day I go and turn a dull and tedious wheel;—
You cannot think how sad, and faint, and tired I often feel!

I hurry home to snatch the meal my mother can supply,
Then back I hasten to my task, that, not to hate, I try.
At night my mother kisses me, when she has comb'd my hair,
And laid me in my little bed,-but, I'm not happy there!

I think upon the factory-the fines that on us wait;

I start, and ask my father, if I have not laid too late;

And once I heard him sob and say, "O better were a grave,
Than such a life as this for thee, thou sinless little slave!"

I wonder if I ever shall obtain a holiday!

Oh! if I do, I'll go to you, and spend it all in play :

And then, I'll bring some flowers home, if you will give me some, And at my work I'll think of thee, and holidays to come.

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HEN they asked Mr Feeble-mind how he fell into his hands.

Then said the poor man, I am a sickly man, as you see: and because death did usually once a day knock at my door, I thought I should never be well at home; so I betook myself to a pilgrim's life, and have travelled hither from the town of Uncertain, where I and my father were born. I am a man of no strength at all of body, nor yet of mind, but would, if I could, though I can but crawl, spend my life in the pilgrim's way. When I came at the gate that is at the head of the way, the Lord of that place did entertain me freely; neither objected he against my weakly looks, nor against my feeble mind; but gave me such things as were necessary for my journey, and bid me hope to the end. When I came to the house of the Interpreter, I received much kindness there: and because the Hill of Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I was carried up that by one of his servants. Indeed, I have found much relief from pilgrims, though none was willing to go so softly as I am forced to do: yet still, as they came on, they bid me be of good cheer, and said, that it was the will of their Lord that comfort should be given to the feebleminded, and so went on their own pace. When I was come to Assault

lane, then this giant met with me, and bid me prepare for an encounter. But, alas! feeble one that I was, I had more need of a cordial; so he came up and took me. I conceited he should not kill me. Also when he got me into his den, since I went not with him willingly, I believed I should come out alive again; for I have heard, that not any pilgrim that is taken captive by violent hands, if he keeps heart-whole towards his Master, is, by the laws of Providence, to die by the hand of the enemy. Robbed I looked to be, and robbed to be sure I am; but I am, as you see, escaped with life, for the which I thank my King as the author, and you as the means. Other brunts I also look for; but this I have resolved on, to wit, to run when I can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when I cannot go. As to the main, I thank Him that loved me, I am fixed; my way is before me, my mind is beyond the river that has no bridge, though I am, as you see, but of a feeble mind.

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