Active and healthy, stout and young,
No business wanted he :

Now tell me reader if you'can,

What man more blest could be?

To make his comfort quite complete,
He had a faithful wife;

Frugal and neat and good was she,
The blessing of his life.

Where is the lord, or where the squire,
Had greater cause to praise
The goodness of that bounteous hand,
Which blest his prosp'rous days?

Each night when he returned from work,
His wife so meek and mild,
His little supper gladly dress'd,

While he caress'd his child.

One blooming babe was all he had,
His only darling dear,
The object of their equal love,

The solace of their care.

O what could ruin such a life,
And spoil so fair a lot?

O what could change so kind a heart,
All goodness quite forgot?

With grief the cause I must relate,

The dismal cause reveal;

'Twas EVIL COMPANY and DRINK,

The source of every ill.

A Cooper

A Cooper came to live hard by,
Who did his fancy please;
An idle rambling man was he,
Who oft had cross'd the seas.

This man could tell a merry tale,
And sing a merry song;

And those who heard him sing or talk,
Ne'er thought the ev'ning long.

But vain and vicious was the song,
And wicked was the tale;
And every pause he always fill'd,
With cider, gin, or ale.

Our Carpenter delighted much
To hear the Cooper talk;
And with him to the alehouse oft
Would take his evening walk.

At first he did not care to drink,,
But only lik'd the fun;
But soon he from the Cooper learn'd
The same sad course to run.

He said the Cooper's company,
Was all for which he car'd;
But soon he drank as much as he,
To swear like him soon dar'd.

His hammer now neglected lay,
For work he little ca:'d;

Half finish'd wheels and broken tools

Were strew'd about his yard..
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To get him to attend his work
No prayers could now prevail;
His hatchet and his plane forgot,
He never drove a nail.

His cheerful ev'nings now no more
With peace and plenty smil'd;
No more he sought his pleasing wife,
Nor hugg'd his smiling child.

For not his drunken nights alone
Were with the Cooper past;
His days were at the Angel spent,
And still he stay'd the last.

No handsome Sunday suit was left,
Nor decent Holland shirt;
No nosegay mark'd the Sabbath-day,
But all was rags and dirt.

No more his church he did frequent,
A symptom ever sad;

Where once the Sunday is mispent,
The week-days must be bad.

The cottage mortgag'd for its worth,
The favorite orchard sold;
He soon began to feel th' effects
Of hunger and of cold.

The pewter dishes, one by one,

Where pawn'd, till none was left;

And wife and babe at home remained
Of every help bereft.

By

By chance he call'd at home one night,
And in a surely mood,
He bade his weeping wife to get
Immediately some food.

His empty cupboard well he knew
Must needs be bare of bread;
No rasher on the rack he saw,
Whence could he then be ted;
His wife a piteous sigh did heave,
And then before him laid
A basket cover'd with a cloth,
But not a word she said.

Then to her husband gave a knife,
With many a silent tear;

In haste he tore the cover off,
And saw his child lie there.

"There lies thy babe, the mother said,
Oppress'd with famine sore;
O kill us both 'twere kinder far,
We could not suffer more.'

The Carpenter, struck to the heart,
Fell on his knees straightway;
He wrung his hands-confess'd his sins,
And did both weep and

pray.

From the same hour the Cooper more
He never would behold;

Nor would he to the alehouse go
Had it been pav'd with gold.

See Berquin's Gardener.

His

His wife forgave him all the past,
And sooth'd his sorrowing mind,
And much he griev'd that e'er he wrong'd
The worthiest of her kind.

By lab'ring hard, and working late,
By industry and pains,

His cottage was at length redeem'd,
And sav'd were all his gains.

His Sundays now at church were spent,
His home was his delight;

The following verse himself he made,
And read it every night.

The drunkard murders child and wife,
Nor matters it a pin,

Whether he stabs them with his knife,
Or starves them with his gin.

THE GIN-SHOP;

OR: A:

PEEP INTO A PRISON.

Z.

OOK thro' the land from north to south,. And look from east to west; And see what is to Englishmen, Of life the deadliest pest..

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