And oft from his warm fire he'd go,
And to the fields his road would take,
And there, at night, in frost and snow,
He watch'd to seize old Goody Blake.
10. And once behind a rick✶ of barley,
Thus looking out did Harry stand;
The moon was full and shining clearly,
And crisp with frost the stubble land.
-He hears a noise-he's all awake-
Again!-on tiptoe down the hill

He softly creeps-'Tis Goody Blake!
She's at the hedge of Harry Gill.

11. Right glad was he when he beheld her :
Stick after stick did Goody pull,
He stood behind a bush of elder,
Till she had fill'd her apron full.
When with her load she turn'd about,
The by-road back again to take,
He started forward with a shout,
And sprang upon poor Goody Blake.

12. And fiercely by the arm he took her,
And by the arm he held her fast,

And fiercely by the arm he shook her,
And cried, "I've caught you then at last!"
Then Goody, who had nothing said,
Her bundle from her lap let fall;
And kneeling on the sticks, she pray'd,
To God that is the Judge of all.

13. She pray'd, her wither'd hand uprearing,
While Harry held her by the arm—
"God! who art never out of hearing,
O may he never more be warm!"
The cold, cold moon above her head,
Thus on her knees did Goody pray,
Young Harry heard what she had said,
And icy cold he turn'd away.

14. He went complaining all the morrow
That he was cold and very chill:

His face was gloom, his heart was sorrow,
Alas that day for Harry Gill!

* Rick, a pile, or stack.

That day he wore a riding coat,
But not a whit the warmer he :
Another was on Thursday brought,
And ere the Sabbath he had three.

15. 'Twas all in vain, a useless matter,
And blankets were about him pinn'd:
Yet still his jaws and teeth they clatter,
Like a loose casement in the wind.
And Harry's flesh it fell away;
And all who see him say 'tis plain,
That live as long as live he may,
He never will be warm again.

16. No word to any man he utters,
Abed or up, to young or old;
But ever to himself he mutters,
"Poor Harry Gill is very cold."
Abed or up, by night or day,
His teeth they chatter, chatter still,
Now think, ye farmers all, I pray,
Of Goody Blake and Harry Gill.

LESSON CVI.

The Three Warnings.-MRS. THRALE.
1. THE tree of deepest root is found
Least willing still to quit the ground.
"Twas therefore said by ancient sages,

That love of life increased with years
So much, that, in our latter stages,
When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages,
The greatest love of life appears.

2. This great affection to believe,
Which all confess, but few perceive,
If old assertions can't prevail,
Be pleased to hear a modern tale.

3. When sports went round, and all were gay On neighbor Dobson's wedding-day,

Death called aside the jocund groom

With him into another room;

And, looking grave, " You must," says he,
"Quit your sweet bride, and come with me."

4. "With you! and quit my Susan's side! With you !" the hapless husband cried; "Young as I am? 'tis monstrous hard! Besides, in truth, I'm not prepared: My thoughts on other matters go, This is my wedding-night, you know." What more he urged I have not heard: His reasons could not well be stronger : So death the poor delinquent spared, And left to live a little longer.

5. Yet, calling up a serious look,-
His hour-glass trembled while he spoke,-
Neighbor," he said, "farewell! no more
Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour :
And farther, to avoid all blame

Of cruelty upon my name,

To give you time for preparation,
And fit you for your future station,
Three several warnings you shall have,
Before you're summoned to the grave.
Willing, for once, I'll quit my prey,
And grant a kind reprieve,

In hopes you'll have no more to say,
But, when I call again this way,

Well pleased, the world will leave."
To these conditions both consented,
And parted, perfectly contented.

6. What next the hero of our tale befell,
How long he lived, how wisely, and how well
It pleased him, in his prosperous course,
To smoke his pipe, and pat his horse,-

The willing muse shall tell :—
He chaffered then, he bought, he sold,
Nor once perceived his growing old,
Nor thought of Death as near;
His friends not false, his wife no shrew,
Many his gains, his children few,

He passed his hours in peace.

But, while he viewed his wealth increase,-
While thus along life's dusty road

The beaten track content he trod,

Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares,

2

That day he wore a riding coat,
But not a whit the warmer he :
Another was on Thursday brought,
And ere the Sabbath he had three.

15. 'Twas all in vain, a useless matter,
And blankets were about him pinn'd :
Yet still his jaws and teeth they clatter,
Like a loose casement in the wind.
And Harry's flesh it fell away;
And all who see him say 'tis plain,
That live as long as live he may,
He never will be warm again.

16. No word to any man he utters,
Abed or up, to young or old;
But ever to himself he mutters,
"Poor Harry Gill is very cold."
Abed or up, by night or day,
His teeth they chatter, chatter still,
Now think, ye farmers all, I pray,
Of Goody Blake and Harry Gill.

LESSON CVI.

The Three Warnings.-MRS. THRALE.
1. THE tree of deepest root is found
Least willing still to quit the ground.
'Twas therefore said by ancient sages,

That love of life increased with years
So much, that, in our latter stages,
When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages,
The greatest love of life appears.

2. This great affection to believe,
Which all confess, but few perceive,
If old assertions can't prevail,
Be pleased to hear a modern tale.

3. When sports went round, and all were gay On neighbor Dobson's wedding-day,

Death called aside the jocund groom

With him into another room;

And, looking grave, "You must," says he,
"Quit your sweet bride, and come with me."

4. "With you! and quit my Susan's side!
With you!" the hapless husband cried;
"Young as I am? 'tis monstrous hard!
Besides, in truth, I'm not prepared:
My thoughts on other matters go,
This is my wedding-night, you know."
What more he urged I have not heard:
His reasons could not well be stronger :
So death the poor delinquent spared,
And left to live a little longer.

66

5. Yet, calling up a serious look,— His hour-glass trembled while he spoke,Neighbor," ," he said, "farewell! no more Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour : And farther, to avoid all blame

Of cruelty upon my name,

To give you time for preparation,
And fit you for your future station,
Three several warnings you shall have,
Before you're summoned to the grave.
Willing, for once, I'll quit my prey,
And grant a kind reprieve,

In hopes you'll have no more to say,
But, when I call again this way,

Well pleased, the world will leave."
To these conditions both consented,
And parted, perfectly contented.

6. What next the hero of our tale befell, How long he lived, how wisely,-and how well It pleased him, in his prosperous course, To smoke his pipe, and pat his horse,The willing muse shall tell :He chaffered then, he bought, he sold, Nor once perceived his growing old, Nor thought of Death as near; His friends not false, his wife no shrew, Many his gains, his children few,

He passed his hours in peace.

But, while he viewed his wealth increase,--
While thus along life's dusty road

The beaten track content he trod,

Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares,