But oh! of all delightful sounds
Of evening or of morn,

The sweetest is the voice of Love,
That welcomes his return.

THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS, AND HOW HE GAINED THEM.

You are old, Father William, the young man cried ;
The few locks which are left you are gray;
You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man ;
Now tell me the reason, I pray.

In the days of my youth, Father William replied,
I remember'd that youth would fly fast,
And abused not my health and my vigour at first,
That I never might need them at last.

You are old, Father William, the young man cried,
And pleasures with youth pass away;

And yet you lament not the days that are gone
Now tell me the reason, I pray.

In the days of my youth, Father William replied, I remember'd that youth could not last;

I thought of the future, whatever I did,

That I never might grieve for the past.

You are old, Father William, the young man cried, And life must be hastening away;

You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death; Now tell me the reason, I pray.

I am cheerful, young man, Father William replied;
Let the cause thy attention engage;

In the days of my youth I remember'd my God!
And He hath not forgotten my age.

FROM THE DEVIL'S WALK.

HE owned with a grin
That his favourite sin
Is pride that apes humility.

THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

It was a summer evening;
Old Kasper's work was done,
And he before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun;
And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.

She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round,
Which he beside the rivulet,

In playing there, had found;
He came to ask what he had found,
That was so large, and smooth, and round.

Old Kasper took it from the boy,
Who stood expectant by;

And then the old man shook his head,

And with a natural sigh,

'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory.

I find them in the garden,

For there's many here about; And often when I go to plough,

The ploughshare turns them out; For many thousand men," said he, "Were slain in that great victory."

"Now tell us what 'twas all about," Young Peterkin he cries;

And little Wilhelmine looks up

With wonder-waiting eyes;

Now tell us all about the war,

And what they fought each other for."

It was the English," Kasper cried, "Who put the French to rout; But what they fought each other for, I could not well make out; But everybody said," quoth he, "That 'twas a famous victory.

My father lived at Blenheim then,'
Yon little stream hard by;

They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly;

So with his wife and child he fled,

Nor had he where to rest his head.

With fire and sword the country round
Was wasted far and wide,

And many a childing mother then,
And new-born baby died :

But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.

"They say it was a shocking sight
After the field was won;

For many thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun;

But things like that, you know must be
After a famous victory.

"Great praise the Duke of Malbro' won,

And our good Prince Eugene.'

"

Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"
Said little Wilhelmine.

"Nay-nay-my little girl," quoth he,
"It was a famous victory.

"And everybody praised the duke,
Who this great fight did win."

"But what good came of it at last?”
Quoth little Peterkin.

Why, that I cannot tell," said he;

But 'twas a famous victory."

THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE.

"I know not whether it be worth the reporting that there is in Cornwall, near the parish of St. Neots, a Well, arched over with the robes of four kinds of trees, withy, oak, elm, and ash, dedicated to St. Keyne. The reported virtue of the water is this, that whether husband or wife come first, to drink thereof, they get the mastery thereby."-FULLer,

A WELL there is in the west country,
And a clearer one was never seen;
There is not a wife in the west country

But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne.

An oak and an elm-tree stand beside,
And behind doth an ash-tree grow,
And a willow from the bank above
Droops to the water below.

A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne;
Joyfully he drew nigh,

For from cock-crow he had been travelling,
And there was not a cloud in the sky.

He drank of the water so cool and clear,
For thirsty and hot was he;

And he sat down upon the bank

Under the willow-tree.

There came a man from the house hard by,
At the Well to fill his pail;

On the Well-side he rested it,
And he bade the stranger hail.

"Now art thou a bachelor, Stranger?" quoth he;

For an if thou hast a wife,

The happiest draught thou hast drank this day

That ever thou didst in thy life.

'Or has thy good woman, if one thou hast, Ever here in Cornwall been?

For an if she have, I'll venture my life,

She has drunk of the Well of St. Keyne."

I have left a good woman who never was here," The Stranger he made reply;

"But that my draught should be the better for that, I pray you answer me why."

"St. Keyne," quoth the Cornish-man, “ many a time Drank of this crystal Well;

And before the Angel summon'd her,
She laid on the water a spell.

"If the Husband of this gifted Well
Shall drink before his Wife,

A happy man thenceforth is he,
For he shall be master for life.