His father smacks him in the face, He pulls him by the nose, The village schoolboy only cries, And crying――off he goes; His parents go to bed at night, And THERE, they’ve no repose. W. C. L. _The Sporting Times_, July 5, 1884. ―――――――― THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. Beside a dingy public-house, the village smithy stands, The smith, a nasty man is he, with beastly dirty hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms a bruiser well might suit, His face is void of any charm, he looks a nasty brute. His brow is wet with beery sweat, he scarcely earns a bob; But to drink up another’s drink he’s always on the job! Week in, week out, from morn to night, he curses high and low. You seldom hear his hammer’s beat, his step is dull and slow; Communications from his mouth are seldom “yes” or “no.” And children coming home from school run frightened past his door, They fear to see the ugly beast, and shun his drunken roar, They’d only catch a kick or blow, if they lingered near his door. He never goes inside a church, and never sends his boys, He never heard a parson preach, he hates his daughter’s voice, Snarling over her kitchen work, it makes him swear like vice, Reminding him of her mother’s voice――_that_ wasn’t over nice. And when he thinks of her once more, how in the grave she lies, He thinks in his heart that Providence is sometimes kind and wise, Cursing, drinking, borrowing; onward through life he goes. No morning sees good work begin, no evening sees its close. Nothing attempted, nothing done, from gin he gets repose. _The Topical Times_, September 13, 1884. [Illustration] The parody of “A Psalm of Life,” entitled “The Maiden’s Dream of Life,” which was quoted on page 64, Part IV., of _Parodies_, was copied from a Washington (U.S.) newspaper, dated December, 1871. The idea of this parody had evidently been borrowed from one contained in a small volume by Phœbe Carey, entitled “Poems and Parodies.” The borrower made some verbal alterations, which were by no means improvements on Miss Carey’s parody, which is decidedly the better of the two:―― A PSALM OF LIFE. (_What the Heart of the Young Woman said to the Old Maid_). Tell me not, in idle jingle, Marriage is an empty dream, For the girl is dead that’s single, And things are not what they seem. Married life is real, earnest, Single blessedness a fib; Taken from man, to man returnest, Has been spoken of the rib. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Nearer brings the wedding day. Life is long, and youth is fleeting, And our hearts, if there we search, Still like steady drums are beating Anxious marches to the Church.