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Give me the man, as a friend and a neighbor,
Who toils at the loom, the spade, or the plough,
Who wins his diploma of manhood by labor,
And purchases wealth by the sweat of his brow.
And that man shall be found 'mid the close ranks of labor,
And be known by the work which his industry rears;
And the chiefdom when won shall be dear to his labor,
And we'll honor the man whatever he
Judge of a man by the work he is doing,
Speak of a man as his actions demand, Watch well the path that each is pur
And let the most worthy be chief in the land.
Why should the broadcloth alone be
And the man be despised who in fustian appears?
While the angels in heaven have their limbs unprotected,
You can't judge a man by the coat that he wears.
THE cold winds of autumn wail mournfully here,
The leaves round me falling are faded and sere;
But chill though the breeze be, and threat'ning the storm,
My heart full of fondness beats kindly
Oh! Dennis, dear, come back to me,
'Twas here we last parted, 'twas here we first met,
And ne'er has he caused me one tear of
The seasons may alter, their change I defy,
Oh! Dennis, dear, etc.
THE COTTAGE BY THE SEA.
J. H. THOMAS.
CHILDHOOD days now pass before me,
Calm and bright as evening glow; Days that knew no shade of sorrow, When my young heart, pure and free, Joyful hail'd each coming morrow, In the cottage by the sea.
Fancy sees the rose-tree twining
Round the old and rustic door, And beneath the wild waves shining, Where I've gathered shells of yore; Here I heard my mother's warning, As she took me on her knee, And I feel again life's morning, In the cottage by the sea.
What, though years have passed above me, Though through fairer scenes I roam, Yet I ne'er shall cease to love thee,
Childhood's dear and happy home;
WAIT TILL I PUT ON MY BONNET.
My father loves counting his cattle,
Sweet walks, and the soft quiet air; The field, with the dew-star upon it,
The scent of the newly-mown hay; Oh, wait till I put on my bonnet, Night's sweeter by far than the day. There are bonnets with ribbon and feather,
But mine's like a gipsy's, so
A bonnet that's careless of weather,
The day was intended for labor,
Oh, wait till I put on my bonnet,
WILLIE, WE HAVE MISSED YOU.
8. C. FOSTER.
OH! Willie, is it you, dear, safe, safe at home?
They did not tell me true, dear, they said you would not come;
I heard you at the gate, and it made my heart rejoice,
For I knew that welcome footstep and that dear familiar voice.
Making music on my ear in the lonely midnight gloom. Oh,
Willie, we have missed youwelcome, welcome home.
We've longed to see you nightly, but this night of all,
The fire was blazing brightly, and lights were in the hall.
The little ones were up till 'twas ten o'clock and past,
Then their eyes began to twinkle, and they've gone to sleep at last;
But they listened for your voice till they thought you'd never come,
Oh! Willie, we have missed youwelcome, welcome home.