ve a hansom in London by way of a "lark;"
Enlisted, deserted, and finally fled
Abroad, and was thought by his friends to be dead.

But Willy meanwhile was content with his lot;
He was slow, but he always was found on the spot;
He wasted no money on skittles and ale,
But put by his pence, when he could, without fail.

To the Penny Bank weekly his savings he took,
And soon had a pretty round sum in his book:
No miser was he, but he thought it sound sense
In the days of his youth to put by a few pence.

And so he got on; he was no millionaire,
But he always had money enough and to spare;
Could help a poor friend; pay his rent and his rate;
And always put silver at church in the plate.

His brother, meantime, who was thought to be dead,
Had across the Atlantic to Canada fled;
Then had gone to New York; then New Zealand had tried;
But always had failed thro' perverseness and pride.

He might have done well, but wherever he went,
As soon as his money came in, it was spent;
As of old he tried all trades, and prospered in none,
For he thought that hard work was "a poor sort of fun."

Then he heard of "the diggings," and there tried his luck;
He was never deficient in smartness and pluck;
And by means of some work, and more luck, in a year
He managed to make fifteen hundred pounds clear.

Then he thought of old England and Bedfordshire chums,
So back to his parish in triumph he comes;
And need I remark he found many a friend
Right willing to help him his nuggets to spend?

He turned up his nose at his poor brother Bill,
Who was always content to be plodding up hill;
Hard work he disliked, he despised peace and quiet,
So he spent all his time and his money in riot.

There was never a horse-race but Fred he was there;
He went to each meet, meeting, marker and fair;
In a few words, his candle he burnt to the socket,
Till he found one fine day not a rap in His pocket.

Then his poor brother Bill came and lent him a hand;
Gave him work and a share of his own bit of land;
If he means to keep steady I cannot surmise--
Let us hope that at length Fred has learnt to be wise.

But one thing is plain, if you mean to get on,
You will find that success must by patience be won;
In the battle of life do not trust to your luck,
But to honest hard work, perseverance, and pluck.

Don't turn up your nose at a hard-working chap,
For