ves did zwim
Ageaen the water's windy brim,
Out where the lofty tower o' stwone
Did stan' to years o' wind an' zun;
An' where the zwellen pillars bore
A pworch above the heavy door,
Wi' sister sheaedes a-reachen cool
Athirt the stwones an' sparklen pool.

I spoke zome word that meaede en smile,
O' girt vo'k's wealth an' poor vo'k's tweil,
As if I pin'd, vor want ov greaece,
To have a lord's or squier's pleaece.
"No, no," he zaid, "what God do zend
Is best vor all o's in the end,
An' all that we do need the mwost
Do come to us wi' leaest o' cost;--
Why, who could live upon the e'th
'Ithout God's gift ov air vor breath?
Or who could bide below the zun
If water didden rise an' run?
An' who could work below the skies
If zun an' moon did never rise?
Zoo air an' water, an' the light,
Be higher gifts, a-reckon'd right,
Than all the goold the darksome clay
Can ever yield to zunny day:
But then the air is roun' our heads,
Abroad by day, or on our beds;
Where land do gi'e us room to bide,
Or seas do spread vor ships to ride;
An' He do zend his waters free,
Vrom clouds to lands, vrom lands to sea:
An' mornen light do blush an' glow,
'Ithout our tweil--'ithout our ho.

"Zoo let us never pine, in sin,
Vor gifts that ben't the best to win;
The heaps o' goold that zome mid pile,
Wi' sleepless nights an' peaceless tweil;
Or manor that mid reach so wide
As Blackmwore is vrom zide to zide,
Or kingly sway, wi' life or death,
Vor helpless childern ov the e'th:
Vor theaese ben't gifts, as He do know,
That He in love should vu'st bestow;
Or else we should have had our sheaere
O'm all wi' little tweil or ceaere.

"Ov all His choicest gifts, His cry
Is, 'Come, ye moneyless, and buy.'
Zoo blest is he that can but lift
His prayer vor a happy gift."

HERRENSTON.

Zoo then the leaedy an' the squier,
At Chris'mas, gather'd girt an' small,
Vor me'th, avore their roaren vier,
An! roun' their bwoard, 'ithin the hall;
An' there, in glitt'ren rows, between
The roun'-rimm'd pleaetes, our knives did sheen,
Wi' frothy eaele, an' cup an' can,
Vor maid an' man, at Herrenston.

An' there the jeints o' beef did stand,
Lik' cliffs o' rock, in goodly row;
Where woone mid quarry till his hand
Did tire, an' meaeke but little show;
An' after we'd a-took our seat,
An' greaece had been a-zai