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And with that up jumps Scroggin, You see where he stands, Dangling the very rope
In his great, rough hands.
And moreover than that,
To make it past a doubt, There's the cat-skin in his pocket, Which he will presently pull out.
And he tells all the company
Assembled there that day, How Crabthorn had misused the cat, And had her made away.
Now if you inquire of me
Why her death he did not smother, I can only say, bad people
Often betray one another.
And I can very well suppose
They have quarrelled since that day, And now to be revenged on her
He determines to betray.
But you see how angry she is,
My dear little brother,
They may have cause to repent;
THE FISHER BOY.
AH! Fisher Boy, I well know thee,
Oh Andrew! thou hast not forgot, I'm very sure that thou hast not,
All that we talked about that day,
A wretched little orphan lad
And then we talked of many a heap
Then shame to think I knew thee not-
THE WANDERER'S RETURN.
THERE was a girl of fair Provence,
Who 'neath a spreading plane-tree sate,
And thus unto a mourner young, In a low voice did say.
"And said I, I shall dance no more;
A simple tale of household grief
And left young children three;
"Oh! many tears my mother shed; And earnestly did pray,
That he would still abide with us,
Her prayers he long withstood;
I dared not to my mother show
The sadness of my heart;
We said farewell, and yet farewell, As if we could not part.
"Three years ago, unknown to us, When nuts were on the tree, Even in the pleasant harvest-time,
My brother went to seaUnknown to us, to sea he went,
And a woful house were we.
"That winter was a weary time, A long, dark time of woe;
For we knew not in what ship he sailed, And vainly sought to know;
And day and night the loud, wild winds Seemed evermore to blow.
"My mother lay upon her bed, Her spirit sorely tossed
With dismal thoughts of storm and wreck Upon some savage coast;
But morn and eve we prayed to Heaven That he might not be lost.
"And when the pleasant spring came on, And fields again were green,
He sent a letter full of news,
Of the wonders he had seen; Praying us to think him dutiful As he afore had been.
"The tidings that came next were from A sailor old and grey,
Who saw his ship at anchor lie
In the harbour at Bombay;
But he said my brother pined for home, And wished he were away.
"Again he wrote a letter long,
I watched, as now, beside the door,
" I watched and watched, but I knew not then It would be all in vain;
For very sick he lay the while,
Will ne'er come home again!
"And now I watch-for we have heard That he is on his way,
And the letter said, in very truth,
He would be here to-day.
Oh! there's no bird that singeth now Could tempt me hence away!"
-That self-same eve I wandered down Unto the busy strand,
Just as a little boat came in
With people to the land; And 'mongst them was a sailor-boy, Who leaped upon the sand.
I knew him by his dark blue eyes, And by his features fair;
I've been tossed into the apple-tree just as if I was a ball,
And though I caught hold of a bough, I've had a terrible fall;
I'm sure I should have cracked my skull, had it not been for my hat.
You may see what a fall it was, for the crown 's quite
And it never will take its shape again, do all that ever I may!
ZEDEKIAH.-Never mind it, Peter! Put it on your head, and come along, I say! PETER.-Nay, I shall not. I shall sit down under this tree;
I've had nothing but ill-luck to-day. Come, sit down by me,
And I'll tell you all, Zedekiah, for I feel quite forlorn;
Oh dear! oh dear! I'm lamed now!-I've sate down upon a thorn! ZEDEKIAH.-Goodness' sake! Peter be still-what a terrible bellow
One would think you'd sate on a hornet's nest; sit down, my good fellow.
PETER.-I'll be sure there are no more thorns here, before I sit down;
Pretty well of one thorn at a time, Master Zedekiah Brown!
There, now, I think this seat is safe and easy-so now you must know
I was fast asleep at breakfast-time; and you'll always find it so,
That if you begin a day ill, it will be ill all the day. Well, when I woke, the breakfast-things were clattering all away;
And I know they had eggs and fowl, and all sort of good things;
But then none may partake who are in bed when the morning bell rings;
So, sadly vexed as I was, I rolled myself round in
And, “as breakfast is over, I'll not hurry myself," I