For both had long quite strict attendants been At a small Chapel, thought to be too mean To be oft visited by wealthy men; Though some would wander to it now and then.

As yet nor WILLIAM, nor his girl, professed To be by saving Gospel Truth most bless'd; Yet both went there three times each Sabbath day, To join in singing, if they did not pray.

And 'tis but right that Christian parents should To church take children, for the children's good.

To lead them to regard the Lord's own day-- Nor spend its hours in idleness or play.

These two young people might be quite sincere, For all their friends could ever see or hear; But though their love was warm, and pure as day, Time spent in this wise runs to waste away.

Of leisure he had never much to boast, For every work-day found him at his post; From six at morn till eight o'clock at night, He faithful wrought, as in his Master's sight.

Yet oft he wished--that wish was strongest then-- Improvement in his _learning_ to obtain; But, such love frolics made that wish in vain.

This grieved him much when, afterwards, desire He felt to nurture true poetic fire; And did regret that youthful follies cost So much in precious time forever lost.

This folly seen, he strove with eager haste To let his leisure run no more to waste, And rose each morn at four or five o'clock, To walk abroad, and gain of health a stock; Or listen to the lark's sweet morning lay, As he rose up to greet the King of Day; Or let the lively, thrilling blackbird's song, Charm his fond ear as he walked slow along.

Sometimes through well-fenced fields of new-mown hay-- Breathing out fragrance--he was wont to stray; Or climb a bill with firm, elastic tread, While Sol his early beams in radiance shed.

The Castle hill he mostly did prefer, As quite accordant with his character.

Upon its ruins he would musing sit, Till he was seized with a strong rhyming fit; Then frame his welling thoughts to some rude verse-- Which friends were anxious he should oft rehea.r.s.e.

If thus his leisure was not always spent, He read what books his friends had to him lent.

Of such good things he owned but very few-- And parents needed all the _cash_ he drew.

Thus was his time most constantly employed, While life pa.s.sed smoothly on--not unenjoyed.

BOOK III.

THE ARGUMENT.--Holidays: the Schoolboy's antic.i.p.ations in regard to them. Improper use made of such times by some Apprentices. Evil consequences of their conduct. An appeal to them on the subject. The sad tale of young DAYCOURT. Address to Liquor: its evils. WILLIAM'S holiday rambles. Father's birth-place. Tragic scene there. Farleton Knot. Glance back to Grandfather, etc. Joins Temperance movement. Visit of a man from Canada. His account of the country. Its consequences.

WILLIAM'S taste in books. Rural rambles on business. Reflections on cruelty to animals. Retrospective glance. Conclusion.

Hail, Holidays! To you, with great delight, The schoolboy looks--exulting with his might At the fair prospect of enjoying play, Or visiting relations far away.

Ere your propitious dawn he lays his schemes, And pleased, rejoices in his bright day dreams.

He, in antic.i.p.ation, views the charm Of being for days exempt from birchen harm!

When, free from tasks--nor caring much for books-- With some companion he can fish the brooks; Can ramble through the woods for flowers or nuts, Play with fair girls who live in sylvan huts, Mount with agility some green hill top, And, with a mate, roll full length down the slope; Or take his fill from loaded bramble bushes, Or from rich fruit bedecked in Autumn's blushes.

Such is the bliss that's placed before his view, In all its fulness, Holidays! by you.

And thus, without a single shade of sorrow, He greets his mates with "Holiday to-morrow!"

These pleasures seem unto his boyish mind Of the right sort--and for schoolboys designed.

He seldom thinks of all the anxious care His parents feel, to give their son a share Of useful learning, that he may discharge His part to G.o.d, to them, and men at large.

Apprentices as well with pleasure hail Their holidays--_O, may they never fail!_ These are too often spent in idleness, Or such sad courses as brings them distress.

This is the case when grog-shops they frequent; For ruin follows time and means ill spent.

Pause, O, ye youths! before you yet begin A course that may lead you to every sin!

Restrain your feet from entering those _holes_ Which prove the ruin of so many souls.

Would ye not pause, if right across your path There lay a monstrous serpent, full of wrath?

Would we, fool-hardy, rush into his jaws To certain death? or would ye rather pause?

Youths, ye have cause, yea, weighty cause, to dread This horrid serpent, on strong liquor fed, Which lurks in every place where _Rum_ is sold, Though they may be all covered o'er with gold-- They often are; nor deem it hard of faith-- The way to present and eternal death!

G.o.d does by His most holy Book declare, "Into G.o.d's kingdom none shall enter there, Who liquor drink till drunkards they become!"

Yet, day by day, some meet this awful doom.

Oh, warning take! Flee from this dreadful crime!

Pause and consider, while you yet have time!

Listen the story which to you I tell; Dwell on its moral--mark the sequel well; Then look abroad, and see its counterpart In many a case that shows a broken heart.

DAYCOURT was a youth, possessed of wealth-- Had manly beauty and the best of health; In learning he excelled--was quite a wit-- And oft indulged in a deep musing fit.

Of very warm and truly tender heart, He did his best to act a proper part; Which made him much respected all around-- Against him, filled with envy, none were found.

His widowed mother, then, might well be proud Of such a son, and speak his praises loud.

He bore for her respect, and strove to prove In many ways the fulness of his love.

For many years this widow, in her grief, Looked up to G.o.d, and found from him relief.

She knew the Lord, before her husband died, And found Him one in whom she could confide; In all her trials meekly bowed her head, And found sweet peace was o'er her bosom shed.

Her son, to her, was all a son could be-- Yet on one point she felt anxiety: He had not then experienced the New Birth, And his best thoughts had all been of the Earth.

Adjoining their estate was living one-- A blithe young lady, who in beauty shone; With health endowed, and with fair learning graced, By wealth in easy circ.u.mstances placed.

AMELIA DOVE we well may call her name-- Like that sweet bird she seemed exempt from blame.

Her parents loved her--they could do no less-- She was the soul of all their happiness!

Early she rose, and, dressed in neat array, a.s.sisted her dear mother through the day.

Thus pa.s.sed her time, beloved by all around-- She was as good a girl as could be found; And a fair match for DAYCOURT all conceived-- This he himself had for some time believed.

They loved each other, and obtained consent From their kind parents, and were well content.

And, having leisure, they would often walk, Or, sitting in some bower, would sing and talk; Or else they read some book which both admired, Till their young hearts with ecstacy were fired; Through hill and dale--through woods--were wont to rove, Well pleased with all they saw, they drank in love!

The day arrived when DAYCOURT and his bride Were at the altar in pure wedlock tied.

The day was spent as such like days have been, And pa.s.sed away in happiness serene.

At night, a bounteous marriage-feast was spread, And Love's sweet influence over all seemed shed.

The friends invited strove to show their joy, In wishing happiness without alloy To that young couple, who, in youthful bloom, Were the admired of all in that large room.

But, Oh! I shrink! 'Tis my ungracious task From bliss like this to tear away the mask!

On such occasions wine's oft made to flow-- As if it were the source of joy below!

The bridegroom felt in a most merry mood, And drank each _health_ till his young, joyous blood Coursed through his veins as if quite all on fire, And his kind thoughts gave place to bad desire.

His brain began to whirl--he boisterous grew-- All eyes on him, observant, quickly drew-- He seized a bottle, which he madly threw.

Sad to relate! it struck his beauteous bride!

And she fell dead, by her dear mother's side.

This dread catastrophe soon sobered him, And he was sick, and felt his eyes grow dim.

But while all stood in terror and dismay, He roused himself, and fled from thence away; Then headlong rushed into a deep, deep, stream-- And thus was ended that bright, youthful dream!

The pious mother tried in G.o.d to trust, But this dire blow soon sank her in the dust.

Her parents, too, felt this most dreadful stroke Too hard to bear, for both their hearts it broke!

Oh, cruel Liquor! Thou hast millions slain, And still their death-throes cry to thee in vain!

Ten thousand broken hearts may soon be found In almost every land the world around.

Millions of orphans' cries thine ears a.s.sail, While parents' early death they loud bewail; The prisons and asylums which we build, From thy sad victims' ranks are chiefly filled.

War's dreadful ravages are justly blamed; But war with thee deserves not to be named!

And still, insatiate monster! thy dread jaws Are daily filled--being unrestrained by laws!

When will the day, the happy day, arrive, When thee the injured nations forth shall drive?

Beware, Apprentices! In time beware!

Flee from those places which would you insnare; Regard that man as your real enemy, Who, tempting, leads to inebriety!

Now, while you daily toil, I wish you may Have many a truly happy holiday!

The hero of my tale of such had some, And felt well pleased whenever they did come.

On such occasions he was wont to go To visit friends, who did much kindness show.

With ardent joy full beaming in his face, He more than once revisited the place Where his dear father spent his youthful days, In toilsome labor, or in childish plays.

To him 'twas still a sweetly quiet spot, A picture of content--a small, neat cot-- And just beneath the hill called _Farleton Knot_.

He had a strange, romantic turn of mind; To taste adventure ever felt inclined.

This being premised, we may expect to see, That by slight dangers undeterred was he From venturing to the edge of precipice, To have a peep into some dark abyss.