ON THE SUDDEN DEATH OF JAMES CAMPBELL, OCTOBER 11TH, 1852. AGED 7 YEARS. "Boast not thyself of to-morrow for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth."-PROV. XXIX. 1. 'Twas Autumn in the present year, I recollect the day, When little James, but seven years old, That morn the child repaired to school, No one had reason then to think When school was closed, as oft before, The child had not proceeded far, Death stopped him short, for down he fell, At twelve o'clock, this little boy In health appeared to be; Ere one had struck! though sad 'tis true, On Tuesday morn, James left the school On Friday next, his body dead, Children! if careless still you live, And suddenly should die; How awful then your state will be Throughout eternity. Then give at once your heart to Christ, And cast your sins away; Then when you die He'll take you home Newport, I. W. JOHN DORE. 13 A PATCH ON BOTH KNEES. WHEN I was a boy, it was my fortune to breathe, for a long time, what some writers term the "bracing air of poverty." My mother-light lie the turf upon the form which once inclosed her sweet and gentle spirit!—was what was called an ambitious woman; for that quality which overturns thrones, and supplants dynasties, finds a legitimate sphere in the humblest abode that the shadow of poverty ever darkened. The struggle between the wish to keep up appearances, and the pinching gripe of necessity, produced endless shifts and contrivances, at which, we are told, some would smile, and some-to whom they would teach their own experience— would sigh. But let me not disturb the veil of oblivion which shrouds from profane eyes the hallowed mysteries of poverty. On one occasion it was necessary to send me on an errand to a neighbour in better circumstances than ourselves; and, therefore, it was advisable that I should be presented in the best possible aspect. Great pains were accordingly taken to give a smart appearance to my patched and dilapidated wardrobe, and to conceal the rents and chasms which the envious tooth of time had made in them; and by way of throwing over my equipment a certain savour and sprinkling of gentility, my red and toil-hardened hands were inclosed in the unfamiliar casings of a pair of gloves, which belonged to my mother in days when her years were fewer and her heart lighter. I sallied forth on my errand, and on my way encountered a much older and bigger boy, who evidently belonged to a 66 family which had all our own dragging poverty, and none of our uprising wealth of spirit. His rags fairly fluttered in the breeze; his hat was constructed on the most approved principle of ventilation, and his shoes, from their venerable antiquity, might have been deemed a pair of fossil shoesthe very ones in which Shem shuffled into the ark. He was an impudent varlet, with a dare-devil" swagger in his gait, and an "I'm as good as you" leer in his eye; the very whelp to throw dirt at a well-dressed horseman because he was well dressed-to tear a boy's ruffles because he was clean. As soon as he saw me, his eye detected the practical inconsistencies which characterized my costume, and taking me by the shoulders, turning me with no gentle hand, and surveying me from head to foot, he exclaimed with a scornful laugh of derision, "A patch on both knees, and gloves on!" 66 I still recall the sting of wounded feeling which shot through me at these words. To parody a celebrated line of the immortal Tuscan, That day I wore my gloves no more." But the lesson so rudely enforced sank deep into my mind; and, in after life, I have had frequent occasion to make a practical application of the words of my ragged friend, when I have observed the ridiculous inconsistencies which so often mark the conduct of mankind. When, for instance, I see parents carefully providing for the ornamental education of their children, furnishing them with teachers in music, dancing, and drawing, but giving no thought to that moral and religious training from which the true dignity and permanent happiness of life can comenever teaching them habits of self-reliance and self-discipline and control, but rather, by example, instructing them in evil speaking, in uncharitableness, in envy, and in false hood,—I think with a sigh of the patch on both knees, and gloves on. When I see a family in cold selfish solitude, not habitually warming their houses with a glow of happy faces, but lavishing that which could furnish the hospitality of a whole year upon the profusion of a single night, I think of the patch on both knees, and gloves on. When I see a house profusely furnished with sumptuous furniture, rich curtains, luxurious carpets, but without books, or none but a few tawdry annuals, I am reminded of the patch on both knees, and gloves on. When I see public men cultivating exclusively those qualities which win a way to office, and neglecting those which will qualify them to fill honourably the posts to which they aspire, I recall the patch on both knees, and gloves on. When I see men sacrificing peace of mind and health of body to the insane pursuit of wealth, living in ignorance of the character of the children who are growing up around them, putting themselves off from the highest and purest pleasures of their nature, and so perverting their humanity that that which was sought as a means insensibly comes to be followed as an end, I say to myself, "A patch on both knees, and gloves on." And lastly, when I see thousands spent for selfishness and ostentation, and nothing bestowed for charity; when I see fine ladies besatined and bejewelled, cheapening the toils of dressmakers, and with harsh words embittering the bitter bread of dependence; when I see the poor turned away from proud houses, where the crumbs of the table would be to them a feast, I think of the patch on both knees, and gloves on. |