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And begged he'd tell them, if he knew,
Whether the thing was green.or blue.

"Sir," cries the umpire, 66 cease your pother;
The creature's neither one nor t'other;
I caught the animal last night,
And viewed it o'er by candle-light:
I marked it well-'twas black as jet:
You stare but, sirs, I've got it yet,
And can produce it." "Pray, sir, do;
I'll lay my life the thing is blue."
"And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen
The reptile, you'll pronounce him green.”

"Well, then, at once to ease the doubt,"
Replies the
man, "I'll turn him out;
And when before your eyes I've set him,

If

you don't find him black, I'll eat him." He said, then full before their sight

Produced the beast, and lo! 'twas white! Both stared; the man looked wondrous wise: "My children," the chameleon cries

(Then first the creature found a tongue),
"You all are right, and all are wrong:

When next you talk of what you view,
Think others see as well as you;
Nor wonder if you find that none
Prefers your eyesight to his own."

MERRICK.

XII. THE THREE WARNINGS.

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 later stages,

When pains grow sharp and sickness rages,
The greatest love of life appears.

This strange affection to believe,
Which all confess, but few perceive,
If old assertion can't prevail,

Be pleased to hear a modern tale:

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." “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.

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His hour-glass trembled while he spoke,
"Neighbor," he said, "farewell: no more
Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour:
And further, 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.

What next the hero of our tale befell,

How long he lived, how wise, how well,
How roundly he pursued his course,
And smoked his pipe, and stroked 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,
Uncalled, unheeded, unawares,

Brought on his eightieth year.

And now, one night, in musing mood,
As all alone he sate,

Th' unwelcome messenger of Fate
Once more before him stood.

Half killed with anger and surprise,
"So soon returned!" old Dobson cries.
"So soon, d'ye call it?" Death replies:
"Surely, my friend, you're but in jest;
Since I was here before

'Tis six and thirty years at least,
And you are now fourscore."

"So much the worse," the clown rejoined; "To spare the aged would be kind:

Besides, you promised me three warnings, Which I have looked for nights and mornings:

But, for that loss of time and ease,

I can recover damages."

"I know," cries Death, "that, at the best,

I seldom am a welcome guest.

But don't be captious, friend, at least;
I little thought you'd still be able
To stump about your farm and stable;
Your years have run to a great length;
I wish you joy, though, of your strength."
"Hold," says the farmer, "not so fast;
I have been lame these four years past."
"And no great wonder," Death replies;
"However, you still keep your eyes;

And sure to see one's loves and friends
For legs and arms would make amends."
"Perhaps," says Dobson, "so it might,
But latterly I've lost my sight."

"This is a shocking story, faith;

Yet there's some comfort still," says Death: "Each strives your sadness to amuse;

I warrant you hear all the news."

"There's none," cries he; "and, if there were, I'm grown so deaf I could not hear." "Nay, then," the spectre stern rejoined, "These are unjustifiable yearnings; If you are lame, and deaf, and blind, You've had your three sufficient warnings. So come along; no more we'll part." He said, and touched him with his dart: And now old Dobson, turning pale,

Yields to his fate-so ends my tale.

MRS. THRALE.

XIII. THE SMACK IN SCHOOL.

A DISTRICT school, not far away,
'Mid Berkshire hills, one winter's day,
Was humming with its wonted noise
Of threescore mingled girls and boys;
Some few upon their tasks intent,
But more on furtive mischief bent.

The while the master's downward look
Was fastened on a copy-book,

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