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7. "Work-work-work

From weary chime to chime; Work-work—work

As prisoners work for crime! Band and gusset and seam,

Seam and gusset and band,

Till the heart is sick and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand!

8. "Work-work-work

In the dull December light;

And work-work-work

When the weather is warm and bright;

While underneath the eaves

The brooding swallows cling,
As if to show me their sunny backs
And twit me with the spring.

9. "Oh! but to breathe the breath
Of the cowslip and primrose sweet;

With the sky above my head,

And the grass beneath my feet;

For only one short hour

To feel as I used to feel,

Before I knew the woes of want
And the walk that costs a meal!

10. "Oh! but for one short hour!
A respite however brief!
No blessed leisure for love or hope,
But only time for grief!

A little weeping would ease my heart;
But in their briny bed

My tears must stop, for every drop

Hinders needle and thread!"

11. With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,

Plying her needle and thread;
Stitch! stitch! stitch!

In poverty, hunger, and dirt;

And still with a voice of dolorous pitch

Would that its tone could reach the rich!-
She sang this "Song of the Shirt!"

XCVIII. THE BORROWED UMBRELLA.

DOUGLAS JERROLD.

1. Bah! that's the third umbrella gone since Christmas. What were you to do? Why, let him go home in the rain, to be sure. I'm very certain there was nothing about him that could spoil! Take cold, indeed! He doesn't look like one of the sort to take cold. Besides he'd have better taken cold, than taken our umbrella. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say do you hear the rain? Do you hear it against the windows? Nonsense: you don't impose upon me; you can't be asleep with such a shower as that! Do you hear it I say? Oh! you do hear it! Well, that's a pretty flood, I think, to last for six weeks; and no stirring all the time out of the house. Pooh! don't think me a fool, Mr. Caudle; don't insult me; he return the umbrella? Anybody would think you were born yesterday. As if anybody ever did return an umbrella!

2. There; do you hear it? Worse and worse. Cats and dogs! and for six weeks; always six weeks; and no umbrella! I should like to know how the children are to go to school to-morrow. They sha'n't go through such weather; I am

determined. No; they shall stop at home and never learn any thing (the blessed creatures!), sooner than go and get wet! And when they grow up, I wonder whom they 'll have to thank for knowing nothing; whom, indeed, but their father? People who can't feel for their own children, ought never to be fathers.

3. But I know why you lent the umbrella; oh, yes, I know very well. I was going out to tea at dear mother's tomorrow you knew that, and you did it on purpose. Don't tell me; you hate to have me to go there, and take every mean advantage to hinder me. But don't you think it, Mr. Caudle; no, sir; if it comes down in buckets full, I'll go all the more. No; and I'll not have a cab! Where do you think the money's to come from? You've got nice, high notions at that club of yours. A cab, indeed! Cost me sixteen-pence, at least; sixteen-pence! two-and-eight-pence; for there's back again. Cabs, indeed! I should like to know who's to pay for 'em; for I am sure you can 't, if you go on as you do, throwing away your property, and beggaring your children, buying umbrellas!

4. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, do you hear it? But I don't care; I'll go to mother's to-morrow; I will; and what's more, I'll walk every step of the way; and you know that will give me my death. Don't call me a foolish woman; 't is you that's the foolish man. You know I can't wear clogs; and with no umbrella, the wet 's sure to give me a cold; it always does, but what do you care for that? Nothing at all. I may be laid up for what you care, as I dare say I shall; and a pretty doctor's bill there'll be. I hope there will. It will teach you to lend your umbrellas again. I should n't wonder if I caught my death: yes, and that's what you lent the umbrella for. Of course!

5. Nice clothes I get, too, traipsing through weather like this. My gown and bonnet will be spoiled quite. Needn't

I wear 'em, then?

Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall wear 'em. No, sir; I'm not going out a dowdy to please you or any body else. Gracious knows! it is n't often I step over the thresh old; indeed, I might as well be a slave at once; better, 1 should say; but when I do go out, Mr. Caudle, I choose to go as a lady. Oh! that rain! if it is n't enough to break in the windows. Ugh! I look forward with dread for tomorrow! How I am to go to mother's, I'm sure I can't tell, but if I die, I'll do it. No, sir; I'll not borrow an umbrella : no, and you sha'n't buy one. Mr. Caudle, if you bring home another umbrella, I'll throw it into the street.

6. Ha! it was only last week I had a new nozzle put on that umbrella. I'm sure if I'd known as much as I do now, it might have gone without one. Paying for new nozzles for other people to laugh at you! Oh! 't is all very well for you. You've no thought of your poor, patient wife, and your own dear children; you think of nothing but lending umbrellas. Men, indeed! call themselves lords of creation! pretty lords, when they can't even take care of an umbrella!

7. I know that walk to-morrow will be the death of me, but that's what you want: then you may go to your club, and do as you like; and then, nicely my poor, dear children will be used; but then, sir, then you'll be happy. Oh! don't tell me! I know you will: else you'd never have lent the umbrella! You have to go on Thursday about that summons; and, of course you can't go. No, indeed, you don't go without the umbrella. You may lose the debt for what I care; 't is not so bad as spoiling your clothes; better lose it; people deserve to lose debts who lend umbrellas.

8. And I should like to know how I'm to go to mother's without the umbrella. Oh! don't tell me that I said I would go; that's nothing to do with it; nothing at all. She'll think I'm neglecting her; and the little money we're to have, we

sha'n't have at all; because we've no umbrella. The children too! (dear things) they'll be sopping wet; for they sha'n't stay at home; they sha'n't lose their learning; 't is all their father will leave them, I'm sure. But they shall go to school. Don't tell me I said they should n't (you are so aggravating, Caudle, you'd spoil the temper of an angel); they shall go to school; mark that; and if they get their deaths of cold, 't is not my fault; I did n't lend the umbrella.

XCIX.-HATS.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

1. Spring has come. You will find some verses to that effect at the end of these notes. If you are an impatient reader, skip to them at once. In reading aloud, omit, if you please, the sixth and seventh verses. These are parenthetical and digressive, and, unless your audience is of superior intelligence, will confuse them. Many people can ride on horseback who find it hard to get on and to get off without assistance. One has to dismount from an idea, and get into the saddle again, at every parenthesis.

2. The old gentleman who sits opposite, finding that spring had fairly come, mounted a white hat one day, and walked into the street. It seems to have been a premature or otherwise exceptionable exhibition. When the old gentleman came home, he looked very red in the face, and complained that he had been "made sport of." By sympathizing questions, I learned from him that a boy had called him. "old daddy," and asked him when he had his hat whitewashed.

3. This incident led me to make some observations at table the next morning, which I here repeat for the benefit of the

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