_Ralph._ You must get to school at once. Patsy, I"ll be answerable for John Ray"s appearance at Farmer Hopkins"s after school. Won"t that do?
_Patsy._ To be sure it will. I can depind upon you, Master Ralph. But mind and cape an eye on that chap; fur it"s my opinion he"s a little cracked; he"s bin ravin" about crags, and peaks, and liberty like a full-blooded Fenian. I"ll go home and practise a bit wid that cowhide.
[_Exit_, L.
_Charley._ Well, John, got your piece?
_John._ Got my piece? No. I"ve been bothered to death!
_Ralph._ You"ve been keeping company with the "thief of time."
_John._ I"d like to know what you mean by that.
_Ralph._ I"ll tell you. You should have studied your piece yesterday noon; but, instead of that, you went boating. You should have studied last night; but instead of that, you got into a sc.r.a.pe, which promises to make trouble for you; and this morning you played ball instead of taking time for your work.
_John._ Well, I meant to have studied it yesterday, but I thought I had plenty of time. I wanted a little recreation.
_Charley._ Yes, John; but you should look out for the lessons first, and not neglect them. Come, let"s go to school.
_John._ And be at the foot of the cla.s.s. I don"t like this.
_Ralph._ You"ll find a remedy for it in the copy-book.
_John._ What is it?
_Ralph._ A warning to the dilatory--"Procrastination is the thief of time."
[_Exeunt_, R.
THE RAIN-DROPS.
T.H. EVANS.
A farmer had a field of corn of rather large extent, In tending which, with anxious care, much time and toil he spent; But after working long and hard, he saw, with grief and pain, His corn began to droop and fade, because it wanted rain.
So sad and restless was his mind, at home he could not stop, But to his field repaired each day to view his withering crop.
One day, when he stood looking up, despairing, at the sky, Two little rain-drops in the clouds his sad face chanced to spy.
"I very sorry feel," said one, "to see him look so sad; I wish I could do him some good; indeed, I should be glad.
Just see the trouble he has had; and if it should not rain, Why, all his toil, and time, and care he will have spent in vain."
"What use are you," cried number two, "to water so much ground?
You"re nothing but a drop of rain, and could not wet one mound."
"What you have said," his friend replied, "I know is very true; But I"m resolved to do my best, and more I cannot do.
I"ll try to cheer his heart a bit: so now I"m off--here goes!"
And down the little rain-drop fell upon the farmer"s nose.
"Whatever"s that?" the farmer cried. "Was it a drop of rain?
I do believe it"s come at last; I have not watched in vain."
Now, when the second rain-drop saw his willing friend depart, Said he, "I"ll go as well, and try to cheer the farmer"s heart."
But many rain-drops by this time had been attracted out, To see and hear what their two friends were talking so about.
"We"ll go as well," a number cried, "as our two friends have gone.
We shall not only cheer his heart, but water, too, his corn.
We"re off! we"re off!" they shout with glee, and down they fell so fast.
"O bless the Lord!" the farmer cried, "the rain has come at last."
The corn it grew and ripened well, and into food was dressed, Because a little rain-drop said, "I"ll try, and do my best."
This little lesson, children dear, you"ll not forget I"m sure; Try, do your best, do what you can--angels can do no more.
THE SCOLDING OLD DAME.
There once was a toper--I"ll not tell his name-- Who had for his comfort a scolding old dame; And often and often he wished himself dead, For, if drunk he came home, she would beat him to bed.
He spent all his evenings away from his home, And, when he returned, he would sneakingly come And try to walk straightly, and say not a word-- Just to keep his dear wife from abusing her lord; For if he dared say his tongue was his own, "Twould set her tongue going, in no gentle tone, And she"d huff him, and cuff him, and call him hard names, And he"d sigh to be rid of all scolding old dames.
It happened, one night, on a frolic he went, He stayed till his very last penny was spent; But how to go home, and get safely to bed, Was the thing on his heart that most heavily weighed.
But home he must go; so he caught up his hat, And off he went singing, by this and by that, "I"ll pluck up my courage; I guess she"s in bed.
If she a"nt, "tis no matter, I"m sure. Who"s afraid?"
He came to his door; he lingered until He peeped, and he listened, and all seemed quite still, In he went, and his wife, sure enough, was in bed!
"Oh!" says he, "it"s just as I thought. Who"s afraid?"
He crept about softly, and spoke not a word; His wife seemed to sleep, for she never e"en stirred!
Thought he, "For _this_ night, then, my fortune is made: For my dear, scolding wife is asleep! Who"s afraid?"
But soon he felt thirsty; and slyly he rose, And, groping around, to the table he goes, The pitcher found empty, and so was the bowl, The pail, and the tumblers--she"d emptied the whole!
At length, in a corner, a vessel he found!
Says he, "Here"s something to drink, I"ll be bound!"
And eagerly seizing, he lifted it up-- And drank it all off in one long, hearty sup!
It tasted so queerly; and what could it be?
He wondered. It neither was water nor tea!
Just then a thought struck him and filled him with fear: "Oh! it must be the poison for rats, I declare!"
And loudly he called on his dear, sleeping wife, And begged her to rise; "for," said he, "on my life I fear it was _poison_ the bowl did contain.
_Oh dear! yes_, it _was_ poison; I now feel the pain!"
"And what made you dry, sir?" the wife sharply cried.
""Twould serve you just right if from poison you died; And you"ve done a _fine_ job, and you"d now better march, _For just see, you brute, you have drunk all my starch!_"