o rest his head.

With fire and sword the country round
Was wasted far and wide,
And many a tender 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 Marlbro' 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.'

FATHER WILLIAM

You are old, Father William, the young man cried,
The few locks that 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.

_MRS. COCKBURN_

THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST

I'VE seen the smiling
Of Fortune beguiling;
I've felt all its favours, and found its decay:
Sweet was its blessing,
Kind its caressing;
But now it is fled--it is fled far away.

I've seen the forest
Adorned the foremost
With flowers of the fairest most pleasant and gay;
Sae bonny was their blooming!
Their scent the air perfuming!
But now they are withered and weeded away.

I've seen the morning
With gold the hills adorning,
And loud tempest storming before the mid-day,
I've seen Tweed's silver streams,
Shining in the sunny beams,
Grow drumly and dark as he rowe