A HINT TO A FARMER.

Shun thou seats in the shade, nor sleep till the dawn! in the season When it is harvest-time, and your skin is parched in the sunshine.

572

MY FATHER.

How beautiful is the following picture by Caroline Anne Bowles, only child of Captain Charles Bowles, of Blackland, England. Born 1787:

My father loved the patient angler's art, And many a summer's day, from early morn To latest evening, by some streamlet's side, We two have tarried; strange companionship!

A sad and silent man; a joyous child!

Yet those were days as I recall them now Supremely happy. Silent though he was, My father's eyes were often on his child Tenderly eloquent--and his few words Were kind and gentle. Never angry tone Repulsed me if I broke upon his thoughts With childish question. But I learned at last, Learned intuitively to hold my peace.

When the dark hour was on him, and deep sighs Spoke the perturbed spirit--only then I crept a little closer to his side, And stole my hand in his, or on his arm Laid my cheek softly: till the simple wile Won on his sad abstraction, and he turned With a faint smile, and sighed and shook his head, Stooping toward me; so I reached at last Mine arm about his neck and clasped it close, Printing his pale brow with a silent kiss.

--_From Littell's Living Age._

573

_Love for a Father._--In the year 1773, a gentleman in England, whose health was rapidly declining, was advised by his physicians to go to Spa for the recovery of his health. His daughters feared that those who had only motives entirely mercenary would not pay him that attention which he might expect from those who, from duty and affection united, would feel the greatest pleasure in ministering to his ease and comfort; they, therefore, resolved to accompany him. They proved that it was not a spirit of dissipation and gaiety that led them to the springs, for they were not to be seen in any of the gay and fashionable circles; they were never out of their father's company, and never stirred from home, except to attend him, either to take the air or drink the waters; in a word, they lived a most recluse life in the midst of a town then the resort of the most ill.u.s.trious and fashionable personages of Europe. This exemplary attention to their father procured these three amiable sisters the admiration of all the visitors at Spa, and was the cause of their elevation to that rank in life to which their merits gave them so just a t.i.tle. They were all married to n.o.blemen: one to the Earl of Beverly, another to the Duke of Hamilton, and a third to the Duke of Northumberland. And it is justice to them to say that they reflected honor on their rank, rather than derived any from it.

--_Arvine._

574

MY FATHER.

I have a Father!

It needeth not that I should see His face, When each new day brings token of His grace.

Who can deny the Power that brings to pa.s.s The yearly miracle of springing gra.s.s?

Who can withhold allegiance, that sees The harvest glory of the fruited trees?

575

Confessing a fault makes half amends.

Denying one doubles it.

576

Not to repent of a fault, is to justify it.

--_Pliny._

577

Whoever thinks a faultless one to see Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er will be.

--_Pope._

578

_Faults._--Every man has a bag hanging before him, in which he puts his neighbors' faults, and another behind him in which he stows his own.

--_Shakespeare._

579

Better find one of our own faults, Than ten Of our neighbor's.

580

A GREAT MAN'S FAULTS.

Lord Bolingbroke was one evening at a large party. Political subjects were talked of, and the conversation finally turned on the famous Duke of Marlborough. Every one had something to say against him, many blaming his avarice. Bolingbroke was silent. One of the company inquired, "How is it that you say nothing? You knew him better than all of us, and could tell us a good deal about him." Bolingbroke replied, "He was a great man, and I have forgotten all his faults."

581

Each should be sure of an untarnished name, Before he ventures others' faults to blame.

582

The greatest of faults, is to be conscious of none.

583

Wink at wee (little) faults; Your ain are muckle.

--_Scotch._

584

He who asks timidly courts a refusal.

585