It was his choice that he might he employed In marble works, and had the thought enjoyed That some good master would his service need; But disappointment was for him decreed.

Some other places then the father tried, But all with _boys_ appeared to be supplied.

The youth more anxious grew from day to day, Nor could well brook what seemed such sad delay.

He oft retired at night unto his bed, With various plans contrived in his young head; But vanished soon were all these well-formed schemes, As though they were so many empty dreams; Until, by "hope deferred," he was made sad, And even home scenes failed to make him glad.

He now had nearly reached his thirteenth year, And did a small, weak youth, indeed, appear; Yet though so very young and small, this boy Had felt deep sorrow, and no little joy.

Good news at last he heard, with much delight, When his dear father came from work one night; He said a tradesman an apprentice wanted, And told what wages would to him be granted.

WILLIAM at once accepted of the place, And met the man next morn with smiling face.

'Twas soon agreed that he a month should try The work, and his new master satisfy.

This soon flew past, and he was strongly bound Till seven long years should, in their course, move round.

To mention all his trials and mishaps Would please no reader of this tale, perhaps; Suffice to say, he did himself exert In his new business, and was soon expert In making up their wares of shining metal-- A teapot, can, or otherwise a kettle.

Let none despise him for his occupation, For G.o.d has stamped it with His approbation.

'Tis therefore lawful, and should always be Approved of men, though e'en of high degree.

G.o.d's holy book commands that saints engage In honest callings, throughout every age; That they may lead a just and holy life, Nor needlessly be found in worldly strife; That they themselves and households may maintain, From the just proceeds of a righteous gain.

Let none be found so foolish or so base, As to regard mechanics as a race Devoid of intellect and common sense, Who to true honor have no just pretence.

Our ranks can boast of one far higher name Than e'er was found in other paths of fame.

This, my a.s.sertion, may to many prove A puzzle great, while puzzles they do love.

Cheer up, ye poor mechanics! and pursue Your lowly trades, and Heaven keep still in view.

Ye who have naught to boast save rank and wealth, Look round you openly--or look by stealth; See what our factories have done for you-- And for the world--whichever side you view!

Without them, Ocean ne'er would bear a sail To catch the breeze, or fly before the gale; Without them, where could we obtain the Press-- That mightiest engine in the universe?

Take it away, and we should back be thrown Into dark ages, which would Science drown.

While all the household comforts that we boast Would disappear, and be forever lost!

Such thoughts as these would ramble through the brain Of our apprentice, while he did maintain A due respect for those above him placed, And kept these things within his mind encased.

Let none suppose that he his trade pursued Without exposure to temptations rude.

In that small shop he found a vicious youth, Who feared not G.o.d, nor yet regarded truth: One who deep drank, who gambled, swore and lied Most awfully; nor can it be denied, Some other practices he did pursue Which, I would hope, he long has learned to rue.

'Twas well for WILLIAM that this vicious youth Was, undisguisedly, averse to truth; That, in attempting to sow evil seeds, He made no secret of his foulest deeds.

Howe'er it was, our hero stood his ground, In such sad vices never was he found.

He now acknowledges 'twas G.o.d's rich grace Kept him from falling in that dangerous place.

And, from his heart, that goodness would adore Which did preserve him 'midst such trials sore.

"Evil communications," G.o.d declares, "Corrupt good manners." Who then boldly dares To say their influence will not be seen In those who long exposed to them have been?

For, well we know, the unregenerate mind Is proper soil wherein to seek and find The seeds of latent evil, which may spring-- And springing, grow, till they destruction bring.

Even so it was with WILLIAM'S carnal heart, Some mischief settled in its fleshy part.

Nor was this all; he oft became the b.u.t.t Of journeymen or 'prentice, who would glut Their hardened hearts by showing greatest spite 'Gainst him for following what he thought was right.

Often that wicked youth, in wantonness, Would try all means to give him sore distress.

And once, with all a dreadful demon's rage-- In such acts none but demons would engage-- He threw him down, and held him; then applied A lighted candle to his throat and tried To make him think it merely was a joke!

Which was as true as most of what he spoke.

The sore thus made gave him most cruel pain, And left a scar that does even now remain.

Bad as this was, it was not half so bad As what was done unto another lad.

I heard the story, and believe it true-- And shudder while I have it in my view.

The town in which this shocking act was done I have pa.s.sed through--it was an English one.

The scene, a Tinsmith's shop, where several men Were wont to work, and all were present then.

A monster man two solder-irons took, Made them quite hot, and, with a fiendish look, Went right behind the boy, and on each side The heated irons to his face applied!

The youth saw one, his head aside he threw, Received a burn, before his fate he knew; He quickly turned it then the other way, And had two scars unto his dying day!

Methinks I hear the thoughtful reader ask, "Why was the man, at once, not ta'en to task?

Why did the other men not take a part With that poor boy, and show a feeling heart?"

I am informed _they all enjoyed the joke!_ Not one reproachful word they ever spoke.

I blush to think that any of my trade Should of such monsters ever be afraid.

The very thought still makes my blood to boil-- And shuddering, from such thoughts I back recoil!

I would have dragged the fiend unto a jail, Or had him fastened to a wagon's tail, Laid bare his back, and let the lash descend-- And, doing this, would still my act defend!

Ye masters, foremen, journeymen, and all Who view such scenes, on each of you I call To try your utmost now to do away Such shocking deeds, enacted day by day!

If this you do not, you deserve the blame, And richly merit good men's scorn and shame.

Our WILLIAM'S trials led him oft to think That, while from duty he would never shrink, It would be better far to leave his trade, Than the sad object of such sport be made.

And to his father spoke to this effect-- Not in ill humor, but with much respect.

The father's counsel was, that he should stay.

As soon the other youth would go away.

I here may mention he had one good friend, And one on whom he always could depend; This was his dear young master, who oft took Much pains in reading o'er the Christian's Book-- Received its lessons in his gentle heart, And showed by this he chose the better part.

He would encourage and defend the youth, Who saw it right to let him know the truth.

Alas! this master soon was seized by Death, And died rejoicing in our "common faith."

COOPER with grief beheld the sorrowing scene, And called to mind how kind that friend had been; And often wished more like to him were found In all the workshops through the country round.

Still time moved on; the elder youth took leave, And those he left had no just cause to grieve.

'Twas WILLIAM'S turn to take the other's place, And do his best to bring it no disgrace.

He now had under him a younger boy, While better work did his own hands employ.

The workshop was a cellar, close to th' street, And pa.s.sers-by would oft the workmen greet.

The light came through an iron-grated s.p.a.ce, Making a prison-like and dismal place.

One day a stir was made that street within, And each felt anxious to behold the scene.

The errand-boy was busy cleaning knives, As others have done often in their lives.

He in a moment climbed upon the bench, And the huge _carver_ in his hand did clench.

WILLIAM was looking up, with outstretched throat, Quite un.o.bservant, being lost in thought.

"I'll cut! I'll cut!" fell quickly on his ear; He felt sharp pain, and thus had cause to fear!

The boy, for fun, across WILL'S neck had drawn The carving-knife, and stood still as a stone; Quite terrified at sight of blood, he said, "I thought it was th' _back!_" it proved the edge instead.

The wound was slight, but might have been far worse-- And he might ne'er have figured in my verse.

One thing the serious reader would expect-- To give G.o.d thanks he could not well neglect.

Ah, me! his pa.s.sion drove such thought away-- Strong Pa.s.sion's call he hastened to obey; And feeling in a dreadful angry mood, He beat the boy that it might do him good!

Yes, beat him without mercy, and declared 'Twas well, indeed, the lad no worse had fared!

G.o.d dealt not thus with thee, my hero fine, He long forbore with all those sins of thine; And 'twas but just thou should'st some mercy show, To that poor boy, who did no better know.

My Muse, most willingly, would quit these themes-- Which are not seemly in a poet's dreams.

More pleasing topics now demand my pen, Though often sung by many wiser men.

The subject of my verse had early felt That sensibility within him dwelt.

So const.i.tuted was he, that at school, When he should have been conning grammar's rule-- In deep arithmetic--or other task-- His eye would wander to a distant desk, Which, having reached, itself it stationed there, Fixed on some beauty-bud of promise rare!

'Twill not seem strange, then, if in after years This thing called Sensibility appears.

Strange, or not strange, our hero's heart was warm, Which made him seek the other s.e.x's charm; And when his mind was brought to fix on one Who, in his eyes, all others far outshone-- He loved to ramble, on a moonlight night, With that dear girl--so charming in his sight-- And listen to the murmuring of Kent's stream, Whose face reflected full each pale moonbeam; Or wander by the side of some lone wood, In sweet discourse, which both considered good.

Or else they clomb, delighted, up that hill, Upon whose top the Castle's ruins still Invite the mind, in pensiveness, to know The end of all things in this world below.

Yes, these have stood within that gloomy place, Which now exhibits many a striking trace Of the rude ravages of Man and Time, As seen upon that edifice sublime.

And, as he stood upon that green hill's brow, Has felt inclined abiding love to vow To her, who fondly on his arm was leaning With upturned eyes, which well bespoke their meaning.

That place is sacred to such lovers' vows-- As could be witnessed by each tree that grows Around those ruins; which have also seen Some sad, strange sights within their day, I ween!

Sometimes they chose to see a mutual friend, And in sweet singing would the evening spend.

At other times through beauteous Gillingrove, [Footnote: A well-known lovers' retreat.]

They, arm in arm, and rapt in love, would rove.

This walk they mostly took on Sunday nights, As most in keeping with that day's delights.