98 The Diverting History of John Gilpin. "So, fair and softly," John he cried, But John he cried in vain, So stooping down as needs he must He grasped the mane with both his hands, His horse, who never in that sort What thing upon his back had got Away went Gilpin, neck or nought, He little dreamt when he set out, The dogs dil bark, the children scream'd, And every soul cried out "Well done!" Away went Gilpin-who but he! And still as fast as he drew near, At Edmonton his loving wife Her tender husband, wondering much To see how he did ride. "Stop, stop, John Gilpin !-Here's the house!" They all at once did cry; The dinner waits, and we are tired;" Said Gilpin "So am I !" But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there; For why ?-his owner had a house The Diverting History of John Gilpin. 99 The calender, amazed to see His neighbour in such trim, Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, "What news? what news?-Your tidings tell! Or why you come at all?" Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, "I come because your horse would come; My hat and wig will soon be here- The calender right glad to find But to the house went in; Whence straight he came with hat and wig- A hat not much the worse for wear- Then turning to his horse, John said, 'Twas for your pleasure you came here; Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast! For while he spake a braying ass Whereat his horse did snort as he And galloped off with all his might, Away went Gilpin, and away Went Gilpin's hat and wig: He lost them sooner than at first- 100 The Diverting History of John Gilpin. Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw She pulled out half-a-crown; And then unto the youth she said, The youth did ride, and soon did meet But not performing what he meant, Away went Gilpin, and away The postboy's horse right glad to miss Six gentlemen upon the road, With postboy scampering in the rear, "Stop thief! stop thief!-a highwayman! Not one of them was mute, And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit. And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space, The tollman thinking, as before, That Gilpin rode a race. And so he did, and won it too; Nor stopped till where he had got up Now let us sing "Long live the king," And when he next doth ride abroad IN The Two Rivers. THE WAY OF THE WORLD. ΑΝ N old farm house with meadows wide, From this dull spot, the world to see, How happy I should be!" Amid the city's constant din, A man who round the world has been, "Oh! could I only tread once more THE TWO RIVERS: 101 THE RIVER OF LIFE AND THE RIVER OF DEATH, MRS. NOEL-THATCHER. N Nature's young morning, the Creator caused a river to flow in the first home. Out of that river came every winged fowl that flies in the midst of heaven, beside the innumerable multitude of living creatures, great and small, that throng the rivers and the seas. The waters teem with life, and play an active part in producing the fertility of our earth. The absence of water makes the barren desert: no creature ean sustain life without it; and not only animal, but vegetable life would inevitably fail, could it possibly be deprived of water. But ere long a dull, dark, river arose the River of Death! It has laved every city of civilization the world over, and wherever its pestilential waters come, there is disease and misery. It rose as a tiny stream, and one godly man unwisely drank of it, and it wrought woe to him and his ! On the river rolled, widening in its course. It spread and became a broad current in the land of Palestine. Princes drank of it-and "stretched out their hands with scorners." Prophets quaffed-and they "erred in vision and stumbled in judgment." Priests sipped from that dark river-and "offered strange fire before the Lord." Judges drank-and "perverted judgment." Kings met together for conquest-and were found drinking themselves drunk" by quaffing of this River of Death! And still it flows, and still men drink, and women, of this poisonous river. I see the aged man stooping to drink, and as he bows toward the enchanted stream, some mocking demon pushes him and he is gone! I see the merry bridal party. Loving friends are uttering fervent wishes for lengthened days, and joys as lengthened as their days, to crown the life of bride and bridegroom. Glasses are filled-filled from the River of Death!-and they drink to the health of the pair who stand on the threshold of wedded life and one from that hour shall cherish a love to the waters of that River of Death! He shall quaff again and again, until the home is filled with wretchedness, and wedded comfort is for ever fled. There shall be little ones mercifully cut off in helpless infancy, and the tomb shall close upon a disappointed, broken-hearted wife. Death springs from the River of Death! Men partake, and lose all noble aspirations, all manly feelings; women drink, and become unsexed and impure, and they wander through the streets of the cities and seek-and seek successfully, alas!-to turn others from the right way; and little children learn to quaff of the River of Death, till sixty thousand immortals every year slip into the river and are borne on its black sluggish waters over the precipice that separates the seen and unseen! We see them disappear, and Fancy, affrighted, almost catches the echo of their groans as they topple over into the dark, fathomless abyss. And still the river flows on as if it were a River of Life, and wherever the Gospel and Civilization go, the River of Death is found sending its rivulets there! and whilst one shall quaff |