Just then a man with wooden leg Met Dick, and held his hat to beg; And while he told his mournful case, Look'd at him with imploring face. Dick, wishing to relieve his pain, His pockets search'd, but search'd in vain; And so at last he did declare, He had not left a farthing there. The beggar turn'd with face of grief, And look of patient unbelief, While Richard now his folly blamed, And felt both sorry and ashamed. "I wish," said he (but wishing's vain), "I had my money back again, And had not spent my last, to pay For what I only threw away. "Another time I'll take advice, And not buy things because they're nice; But rather save my little store, To give to those who want it more." [Illustration] [Illustration] THE HOLIDAYS. "Ah! don't you remember, 'tis almost December, And soon will the holidays come; Oh, 'twill be so funny, I've plenty of money, I'll buy me a sword and a drum." Thus said little Harry, unwilling to tarry, Impatient from school to depart; But we shall discover, this holiday lover Knew little what was in his heart. For when on returning, he gave up his learning, Away from his sums and his books, Though playthings surrounded, and sweetmeats abounded, Chagrin still appear'd in his looks. Though first they delighted, his toys were now slighted, And thrown away out of his sight; He spent every morning in stretching and yawning, Yet went to bed weary at night. He had not that treasure which really makes pleasure, (A secret discover'd by few). You'll take it for granted, more playthings he wanted; Oh no--it was something to do. We must have employment to give us enjoyment And pass the time cheerfully away; And study and reading give pleasure, exceeding The pleasures of toys and of play. To school now returning--to study and learning With eagerness Harry applied; He felt no aversion to books or exertion, Nor yet for the holidays sigh'd. [Illustration] THE VILLAGE GREEN. On the cheerful village green, Skirted round with houses small, All the boys and girls are seen, Playing there with hoop and ball. Now they frolic hand in hand, Making many a merry chain; Then they form a warlike band, Marching o'er the level plain. Now ascends the worsted ball, High it rises in the air, Or against the cottage wall, Up and down it bounces there. Then the hoop, with even pace, Runs before the merry throngs; Joy is seen in every face, Joy is heard in cheerful songs. [Illustration] Rich array, and mansions proud, Gilded toys, and costly fare, Would not make the little crowd Half so happy as they are.