And as I perceived, by the sound of his voice, And the look of his eye, it was clearly his choice That it should not be touched, I have now to rejoice That I told him we 'd let it remain; For, had it been gathered when full in the flower, Its blossoms had withered, perhaps, in an hour, And nothing on earth could have given the power That would make them flourish again. But now, of a fruit so delicious and sweet I 've enough for myself and my playmates a treat; And they tell me, besides, that the kernels secrete What, if planted, will make other trees: For the shell will come open to let down the root; A sprout will spring up, whence the branches will shoot; There 'll be buds, leaves, and blossoms; and then comes the fruit-- Such beautiful peaches as these! And Nature, they say, like a mighty machine, Has a wheel in a wheel, which, if aught comes between, It ruins her work, as it might have been seen, Had it not given patience this trial. From this, I 'll be careful to keep it in mind, When the blossoms I love, that there lingers behind A better reward, that the trusting shall find For a trifling self-denial. THE BROKEN PIPE. Come here, little Willie: Why, what is the trouble? "I 've broke my new pipe, ma'-- I can't make a bubble!" Well, do n't weep for that, child, But brighten your face, And tell how the grievous Disaster took place. "Why, Puss came along; And, said I, 'Now she 'll think That white, frothy water Is milk she may drink.' "So I set it before her, And plunged her mouth in, When up came both paws, And clung fast to my chin. "Then I gave her a blow With my pipe; and it flew At once into pieces! O what shall I do? "I can't make a bubble! I wish naughty Kit Had been a mile off: See! there 's blood on me yet!" I 'm sorry, my boy; yet Your loss is but just; You first deceived Pussy, And trifled with trust. In this, when you failed, You compelled her; and thence The wound on your face, From poor Kit's self-defence. Then, when you grew cruel And beat her, you know Your pipe and yourself Fared the worst for the blow. Let this lesson teach you, Hence never to stoop To make man, or brute, That may trust you, a dupe. And when you have power, It should not be abused, Oppressing the weaker, Nor strength be misused. For, often, unkindness Returns whence it came; And ever deceit must Be followed by shame. Remember this, William, And here end your sorrow; I 'll buy you a pipe, To blow bubbles, to-morrow. VIVY VAIN.