"They _skriggl'd_[Footnote: To struggle quick.] and began to scold. "But laughing got the master; "Some _quack'ling_[Footnote: Choaking.] cried, 'let go your hold;' "The farmers held the faster. "All innocent, that I'll be sworn, "There wor'nt a bit of sorrow, "And women, if their gowns _are_ torn, "Can mend them on the morrow. "Our shadows helter skelter danc'd "About the moonlight ground; "The wondering sheep, as on we pranc'd, "Got up and gaz'd around, "And well they might--till Farmer Chcerum, "Now with a hearty glee, "Bade all good morn as he came near 'em, "And then to bed went he. "Then off we stroll'd this way and that, "With merry voices ringing; "And Echo answered us right pat, "As home we rambl'd singing. "For, when we laugh'd, it laugh'd again, "And to our own doors follow'd! "'Yo, ho!' we cried; 'Yo, ho!' so plain "The misty meadow halloo'd. "That's all my tale, and all the fun, "Come, turn your wheels about; "My worsted, see!--that's nicely done, "Just held my story out!!" Poor Judie!--Thus Time knits or spins The worsted from Life's ball! Death stopt thy tales, and stopt thy pins, --And so he'll serve us all. THE BROKEN CRUTCH. A Tale. "I tell you, Peggy," said a voice behind A hawthorn hedge, with wild briars thick entwin'd, Where unseen trav'llers down a shady way Journey'd beside the swaths of new-mown hay, "I tell you, Peggy, 'tis a time to prove Your fortitude, your virtue, and your love. From honest poverty our lineage sprung, Your mother was a servant quite as young;-- You weep; perhaps _she_ wept at leaving home, Courage, my girl, nor fear the days to come. Go still to church, my Peggy, plainly drest, And keep a living conscience in your breast; Look to yourself, my lass, the maid's best fame, Beware, nor bring the Meldrums into shame: Be modest, to the voice of age attend, Be honest, and you'll always find a friend: Your uncle Gilbert, stronger far than I, Will see you safe; on him you must rely; I've walk'd too far; this lameness, oh! the pain; Heav'n bless thee, child! I'll halt me back again; But when your first fair holiday may be, Rise with the lark, and spend your hours with me." Young Herbert Brooks, in strength and manhood bold, Who, round the meads, his own possessions, stroll'd, O'erheard the charge, and with a heart so gay, Whistled his spaniel and pursu'd his way. A Hint for a Libertine.