A MASTER of a country school Jump'd up one day from off his stool, Inspired with firm resolve to try To gain the best society; So to the nearest baths he walk'd, And into the saloon he stalk'd. He felt quite. startled at the door, Ne'er having seen the like before. To the first stranger made he now A very low and graceful bow, But quite forgot to bear in mind That people also stood behind; His left-hand neighbor's paunch he struck A grievous blow, by great ill luck; Pardon for this he first entreated, And then in haste his bow repeated. His right hand neighbor next he hit, And begg'd him, too, to pardon it; But on his granting his petition, Another was in like condition; These compliments he paid to all, Behind, before, across the hall; At length one who could stand no more, Show'd him impatiently the door. * * * * May many, pond'ring on their crimes, A moral draw from this betimes! II. As he proceeded on his way He thought, "I was too weak to-day; To bow I'll ne'er again be seen; For goats will swallow what is green." Across the fields he now must speed, Not over stumps and stones, indeed, But over meads and cornfields sweet, Trampling down all with clumsy feet. A farmer met him by-and-by, And didn't ask him: how? or why? But with his fist saluted him. "I feel new life in every limb!" Our traveller cried in ecstasy. "Who art thou who thus gladden'st me? May Heaven such blessings ever send! Ne'er may I want a jovial friend!" 1808.* ----- THE LEGEND OF THE HORSESHOE. WHAT time our Lord still walk'd the earth, Unknown, despised, of humble birth, And on Him many a youth attended (His words they seldom comprehended), It ever seem'd to Him most meet To hold His court in open street, As under heaven's broad canopy One speaks with greater liberty. The teachings of His blessed word From out His holy mouth were heard; Each market to a fane turn'd He With parable and simile. One day, as tow'rd a town He roved, In peace of mind with those He loved, Upon the path a something gleam'd; A broken horseshoe 'twas, it seem'd. So to St. Peter thus He spake: "That piece of iron prythee take!" St. Peter's thoughts had gone astray,-- He had been musing on his way Respecting the world's government, A dream that always gives content, For in the head 'tis check'd by nought; This ever was his dearest thought, For him this prize was far too mean Had it a crown and sceptre been! But, surely, 'twasn't worth the trouble For half a horseshoe to bend double! And so he turn'd away his head, As if he heard not what was said,