islain to s e," said a farmer's wife, "These boys will make their mark in life; They were never made to handle a hoe, And at once to a college ought to go; There's Fred, he's little better than a foo., But John and Henry must go to schoo.."
"Well, really wife," quoth Farmer Brown,
As he set his mug of cider down,
"Fred does more work in a day for me
Than both his brothers do in three.
Book larnin' will never plant one's corn,
Nor hoe potatoes, sure's you're born,
Nor mend a rod of broken fence-
For my part, give me common sense."
But his wife was bound the roost to rule,
And John and Henry were sent to school.
While Fred, of course, was left behind,
Because his mother said he had no mind.
Five years at school the students spent;
Then into business each one went.
John learned to play the flute and fiddle,
And parted his hair, of course, in the middle;
While his brother looked rather higher than he,
And hung out a sign, "H. Brown, M. D.”
Meanwhile, at home their brother Fred
Had taken a notion into his head;
But he quietly trimmed his apple trees,
And weeded onions, and planted peas,
While somehow or other, by hook or by crook,
He managed to read full many a book,
Until at last his father said
He was getting "book larnin"" into his head;
"But for all that," added Farmer Brown,
"He's the smartest boy there is in town."
The war broke out, and Captain Fred
A hundred men to battle led,
And when the rebel flag came down,
Went marching home as General Brown.
But he went to work on the farm again,
And planted corn and sowed his grain;
He shingled the barn and mended the fence,
Till people declared he had common sense.
Now, common sense was very rare,
And the State House needed a portion there;
So the "family dunce" moved into town-
The people called him Governor Brown;
And his brothers, who went to the city school,
Came home to live with "mother's fool."
THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS.
Somewhat back from the village street
Stands the old-fashioned country-seat,
Across its antique portico
Tall poplar trees their shadows throw,
And from its station in the hall
An ancient timepiece says to all,—
"Forever-never!
Never-forever!"
Half-way up the stairs it stands,
And points and beckons with its hands
From its case of massive oak,
Like a monk, who, under his cloak,
Crosses himself, and sighs, alas!
With sorrowful voice to all who pass,
"Forever-never!
Never-forever!"
By day its voice is low and light;
But in the silent dead of night,
Distinct as a passing footstep's fall,
It echoes along the vacant hall,
Along the ceiling, along the floor,
And seems to say, at each chamber door,
"Forever-never!
Never-forever!"
Through days of sorrow and of mirth,
Through days of death and days of birth,
Through every swift vicissitude
Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood,
And as if, like God, it all things saw,
It calmly repeats those words of awe,--
"Forever-never!
In that mansion used to be
Free-hearted Hospitality;
His great fires up the chimney roared;
The stranger feasted at his board;
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