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'Besides, I must share in the wants of the times,
"And though I've no money, and though I've no lands,
ples' Derry down.
"Then before I'm induced to take part in a riot,
Quoth Tom, "Thou art right; if I rise, I'm a Turk:" So he threw down his pitchfork, and went to his work.
THE NEWCASTLE COLLIER.
Have you heard of a collier of honest renown,
Whatever betided, he thought it was right,
And Providence still he kept ever in sight;
To those who love God, let things turn as they would,
He was certain that all worked together for good.
He praised his Creator whatever befell;
In trouble he bowed him to God's holy will;
If the land was afflicted with war, he declared,
When taxes ran high, and provisions were dear,
Though his wife was but sickly, his gettings but small,
When another child came, he received him with joy,
It was Joseph's ill fortune to work in a pit
But ever when these would profanely advance,
That this happened by luck, and that happened by chance,
Still Joseph insisted no chance could be found;
Not a sparrow by accident falls to the ground.
Among his companions who worked in the pit,
One day at the pit his old comrades he found,
As Joe on the ground had unthinkingly laid
His provision for dinner, of bacon and bread,
A dog, on the watch, seized the bread and the meat,
And off with his prey ran with footsteps so fleet.
Now to see the delight that Tim Jenkins expressed!
So saying, he followed the dog a long round,
While Tim, laughing and swearing, went down under
Poor Joe soon returned, though his bacon was lost,
When Joseph came back, he expected a sneer,
How sincere was the gratitude Joseph expressed!
"When my meat," Joseph cried, " was just now stolen
And I had no prospect of eating to-day,
A PEEP INTO A PRISON.
Look through the land from north to south,
And look from east to west,
Of life the deadliest pest.
It is not want, though that is bad;
Nor war, though that is worse; But Britons brave endure, alas!
A self-inflicted curse.
Go where you will, throughout the realm,
In cities, villages, and towns,
The prince of darkness never sent
To man a deadlier foe; "My name is Legion," it may say,
The source of many a wo.
Nor does the fiend alone deprive
The laborer of his wealth; That is not all; it murders too
His honest name and health.
We say the times are grievous hard,
But, drunkards, to your wives and banes
The drunkard's tax is self-imposed,
Like every other sin; The taxes altogether lay
No weight so great as gin.
The state compels no man to drink,
Compels no man to game;
To rags, and want, and shame.
The kindest husband, changed by gin,
Is for a tyrant known;
Becomes a heart of stone.
In many a house the harmless babes
Because the craving gin-shop takes
Come, neighbor, take a walk with me,
And see the cause of penury
We shall not need to travel far—
Behold that great man's door; He well discerns yon idle crew
From the deserving poor.
He will relieve with liberal hand
The child of honest thrift; But where long scores at gin-shops stand,
He will withhold his gift.
Behold that shivering female there,
Who plies her woful trade!
That hopeless wretch has made.
Look down those steps, and view below
Yon cellar under ground; There every want, and every wo,
And every sin is found.
Those little wretches, trembling there
With hunger and with cold, Were, by their parents' love of gin,
To sin and misery sold.
Blessed be those friends to human kind
Who take these wretches up,
Of their sad parents' cup.
Look through that prison's iron bars,
Look through that dismal grate, And learn what dire misfortune brought
So terrible a fate.
The debtor and the felon too,
Though differing much in sin, Too oft you'll find were thither brought
By all-destroying gin.
Yet Heaven forbid I should confound
Calamity with guilt!
With blood of brother spilt.
To prison dire misfortune oft
The guiltless debtor brings; Yet oftener far it will be found
From gin the misery springs.