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FARMER JOHN.

IV.

"There Money is king," says Farmer John,

"And Fashion is queen; and it 's mighty queer To see how sometimes, while the man

Is raking and scraping all he can,

The wife spends, every year,

Enough, you would think, for a score of wives,

To keep them in luxury all their lives!

The town is a perfect Babylon

To a quiet chap," says Farmer John. "You see, old Bay,

You see, old Gray,

I'm wiser than when I went away.

V.

"I've found out this," says Farmer John,

"That happiness is not bought and sold,
And clutched in a life of waste and hurry,
In nights of pleasure and days of worry;
And wealth is n't all in gold,

Mortgage and stocks, and ten per cent,
But in simple ways and sweet content,
Few wants, pure hopes, and noble ends,
Some land to till, and a few good friends,
Like you, old Bay,

And you, old Gray,

That's what I've learned by going away."

VI.

And a happy man is Farmer John,
O, a rich and happy man is he!
He sees the peas and pumpkins growing,
The corn in tassel, the buckwheat blowing,
And fruit on vine and tree;

The large kind oxen look their thanks,

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As he rubs their foreheads and strokes their flanks;
The doves light round him, and strut and coo:
Says Farmer John, "I'll take you, too,

And you, old Bay,

And you, old Gray,

Next time I travel so far away."

J. T. Trowbridge.

I

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HOLD high office in the town, being guardian of the best treasure it has; and I exhibit, moreover, an admirable example to the other officials, by the cool and downright discharge of my business, and the constancy with which I stand to my post. Summer or winter, nobody seeks me in vain; for all day long I am seen at the busiest corner, just above the market, stretching out my arms to rich and poor.

2. At this sultry noontide, I am cupbearer to the parched populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my waist. To all and sundry I cry aloud, at the very top of my voice: "Here it is, gentlemen! here is the good liquor! here is the unadulterated ale of Father Adam! better than brandy, wine, or beer; here it is, and not a cent to pay. Walk up, walk up, gentlemen, and help yourselves!'

3. It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no customers. Here they come. "A hot day, gentlemen! Quaff and away again, as to keep yourselves in a nice cool sweat. You, my friend! will need another cupful to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there as it is on your cowhide shoes. I see that you have trudged half a score of miles to-day, and, like a wise man, have passed by the taverns and stopped at the running brooks and bubbling springs. Drink, and make room for that other fellow who seeks my aid to quench the fever of last night's potations, which he drained from no cup of mine.

4. " Welcome, most rubicund sir! You and I have been great strangers hitherto! But mercy on you, man! The water absolutely hisses down your red-hot gullet. Fill again, and tell me, on the word of an honest toper, did you ever, in tavern or dramshop, spend the price of your children's food for a swig half so delicious?

5. "Who next? O my little friend! you are just let loose from school, and are come here to scrub your blooming face, and drown the memory of certain taps of the rod

THE BIRTHDAY OF SPRING.

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by a draught from the Town Pump. Take it, pure as the current of your young life; take it, and may your heart and tongue never be scorched with a fiercer thirst than now!

6. "There, my dear child! put down the cup, and yield your place to this elderly gentleman who treads so gingerly over the paving-stones. What! he limps by, without so much as thanking me, as if my hospitable offices were meant only for people who have no wine-cellars.

7. "Well, well, sir! no harm done, I hope? Go! draw the cork, tip the decanter; but when your great toe shall set you a roaring, it will be no affair of mine.

8. "This thirsty dog, with his red tongue lolling out, does not scorn my hospitality, but stands on his hind legs, and laps eagerly out of the trough. See how lightly he capers away again! Jowler! did your worship ever have the gout?"

Hawthorne.

LIX. - THE BIRTHDAY OF SPRING.

I.

RY Holiday! Holiday! let us be gay,

CRY

And share in the rapture of heaven and earth ;
For see! what a sunshiny joy they display,

To welcome the Spring on the day of her birth;
While the elements, gladly outpouring their voice,
Nature's pæan proclaim, and in chorus rejoice!

II.

Loud carols each rill, as it leaps in its bed;

The wind brings us music and balm from the south,
And Earth in delight calls on Echo to spread
The tidings of joy with her many-tongued mouth;
Over sea, over shore, over mountain and plain,
Far, far doth she trumpet the jubilee strain.

III.

Hark! hark to the robin! its magical call
Awakens the flowerets that slept in the dells;
The snow-drop, the primrose, the hyacinth, all
Attune at the summons their silvery bells.
Hush ting-a-ring-ting! don't you hear how they sing?
They are pealing a fairy-like welcome to Spring,

IV.

The love-thrilling wood-birds are wild with delight ;
Like arrows loud whistling the swallows flit by;
The rapturous lark, as he soars out of sight,

Sends a flood of rich melody down from the sky.
In the air that they quaff, all the feathery throng
Taste the spirit of Spring, that outbursts in a song.

V.

To me the same vernal whisperings breathe,

In all that I scent, that I hear, that I meet Without and within me, above and beneath :

Every sense is imbued with a prophecy sweet Of the pomp and the pleasantness Earth shall assume When adorned, like a bride, in her flowery bloom.

VI.

In this transport of nature each feeling takes part ;
I am thrilling with gratitude, reverence, joy;

A new spring of youth seems to gush from my heart,
And the man is transformed all at once to a boy.
O, let me run wild, as in earlier years!

If my joy be withheld I shall burst into tears.

EXERCISE.

Horace Smith

1. Let us share in the rapture of heaven and earth.

2. The elements sing Nature's paan. [Song of rejoicing.]

3. Loud carols each rill as it leaps in its bed.

4. The rapturous lark sends a flood of rich melody down. 5. All the feathery throng taste the spirit of Spring.

6. Earth shall assume pomp and pleasantness.

LX.

THE TEA-ROSE.

THE TEA ROSE.

151

K

ATE. Cousin, I have been thinking what you are to do with your pet rose when you go to New York. You know it would be a sad pity to leave it with such a scatter-brain as I am. I love flowers, indeed; that is, I like a regular bouquet, cut off and tied up, to carry to a party; but as to all this tending and fussing, which is needful to keep them growing, I have no gifts in that line.

Florence. Make yourself easy as to that, Kate. I have no intention of calling upon your talents; I have an asylum in view for my favorite.

Kate. O, then you know just what I was going to say! Mrs. Marshall, I presume, has been speaking to you: she was here yesterday; and I was quite pathetic upon the subject, telling her the loss your favorite would sustain, and so forth; and she said how delighted she would be to have it in her greenhouse, it is in such a fine state now, so full of buds. I told her I knew you would like to give it to her; you are so fond of Mrs. Marshall, you know.

Flor. Now, Kate, I am sorry, but I have otherwise engaged it.

Kate. Who can it be to? you have so few intimates here?

Flor. O, it is only one of my odd fancies!

Kate. But do tell me, Florence.

Flor. Well, cousin, you know the little pale girl to whom we give sewing?

Kate. What little Mary Stephens! how absurd, Florence! This is just another of your motherly, old-maidish ways, dressing dolls for poor children, making bonnets, and knitting socks for all the little dirty babies in the neighborhood. I do believe you have made more calls in those two vile alleys behind our house than ever you have in Chestnut Street, and now to crown all-you must give this choice little treasure to a seamstress girl, when one of your most intimate friends in your own class would value

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