Put LEFT ALONE AT EIGHTY. HAT did you say, dear? not to wait. I'll dress as quick as ever And Polly, who used to help, dear heart! lies t'other "Dear, maybe the flowers are living," she said, "asleep in this bit of wood." I can't rest, deary-I cannot rest: let the old man have his will, And wander from porch to garden-post. The house is so deathly still! Wander and long for a sight of the gate she has left ajar for me: We had got so used to each other, dear-so used to each other, you see. Sixty years, and so wise and good! She made me a better man up the old pipe, deary; I couldn't smoke From the moment I kissed her fair young to-day : face and our lover's life began ; I'm sort of dazed and frightened and don't And seven fine boys she has given me, and out of the seven not one know what to say. It's lonesome in the house here, and lone- But the noblest father in all the land would some out of door; be proud to call him son. I never knew what lonesome meant in all Oh, well, dear Lord, I'll be patient, but I my life before. The bees go humming the whole day long, and the first June rose has blown, And I am eighty, dear Lord, to-day-too old I to be left alone. O heart of love so still and cold! O precious lips so white! For the first sad hours in sixty years you were out of my reach last night. You've cut the flower. You're very kind! She rooted it last May: It was only a slip; I pulled the rose and feel sore broken up: At eighty years it's an awesome thing to drain such a bitter cup. know there's Joseph and John and Hal, But a hundred sons couldn't be to me like My little Polly, so bright and fair, so win- She had roses twined in her sunny hair, white shoes on her dainty feet, And I held her hand: was it yesterday that we stood up to be wed? THE ANSWER TO "THE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE."* IF all the world and love were young And truth in every shepherd's tongue, Time drives the flocks from field to fold The flowers do fade and wanton fields Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studsAll these in me no means can move To come to thee and be thy love. But could youth last and love still breed, SIR WALTER RALEIGH. THE LANDLORD AND THE AGENT. Μ son Jason to his shame be it spoken!— amongst them. I wondered for the life of me how he could harden himself to do it, but then he had been studying the law and had made himself Attorney Quirk; so he brought down at once a heap of accounts. upon my master's head-to cash lent, and to ditto, and to ditto, and to ditto, and oats and bills paid at the milliner's and linen-draper's, and many dresses for the fancy balls in Dublin for My Lady, and all the bills to the workmen and tradesmen for the scenery of the theatre, and the chandler's and grocer's bills, and tailor's, besides butcher's and baker's and, worse than all, the old one of that base wine-merchant's that wanted to arrest my poor master for the amount on the election-day, for which amount Sir Condy afterward passed his note of hand bearing lawful interest from the date thereof; and the interest and compound interest was now mounted to a terrible deal on many other notes and bonds for money borrowed, and there was besides hush-money to the sub-sheriffs, and sheets upon sheets of old and new attorney's bills, with heavy balances, as per former account furnished, brought forward with interest thereon; then there was a powerful deal due to the Crown for sixteen years' arrear of quit-rent of the town-lands of Carrickshaughlin, with driver's fees, and a compliment to the receiver every year for letting the quit-rent run on to oblige Sir Condy, and Sir Kit afore him. Then there were bills of spirits and ribands at the election-time, and MY poor master was in great trouble the gentlemen of the committee's accounts after My Lady left us. The execution came down, and everything at Castle Rackrent was seized by the gripers, and my * See Vol. II., 296. P. unsettled, and their subscription never gathered; and there were cows to be paid for, with the smith and farrier's bills to be set. against the rent of the demesne, with calf and hay money; then there was all the servants' wages since I don't know when coming due to them, and sums advanced for them by my son Jason for clothes and boots and whips, and odd moneys for sundries expended by them in journeys to town and elsewhere, and pocket-money for the master continually, and messengers and postage before his being a Parliament man. I can't myself tell you what besides, but this I know that when the evening came on which Sir Condy had appointed to settle all with my son Jason, and when he comes into the parlor and sees the sight of bills and load of papers all gathered on the great dining-table for him, he puts his hands before both his eyes and cried out, Very true, Sir Condy; nobody understands business better than yourself," says Jason. "So I've a right to do, being born and bred to the bar," says Sir Condy.-" Thady, do step out and see are they bringing in the things for the punch, for we've just done all we have to do this evening." I goes out, accordingly; and when I came back, Jason was pointing to the balance, which was a terrible sight for my poor master. "Pooh! pooh! pooh!" says he; “here's so many noughts they dazzle my eyes, so they do, and put me in mind of all I suf fered larning of my numeration table when I was a boy at the day-school along with "Merciful heavens! what is it I see before you, Jason-units, tens, hundreds, tens of me?" Then I sets an arm-chair at the table for him, and with a deal of difficulty he sits him down, and my son Jason hands him over the pen and ink to sign to this man's bill and t'other man's bill, all which he did without making the least objections. Indeed, to give him his due, I never seen a man more fair and honest and easy in all his dealings, from first to last, as Sir Condy, or more willing to pay every man his own as far as he was able, which is as much as any one can do. hundred. Is the punch ready, Thady?" says he, seeing me. |