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insure, what was even more necessary than food beyond the point of mere starvation, - a shelter for the family from the elements. At length he said to the Irishman, "Pray, why do you keep this creature in the house?" Sure," said the peasant, with a smile, your honor wouldn't turn out the jintleman what pays the rint."
16. Thus it is, that the Irishman's cheerfulness is made to solace his poverty; thus it is, that the diamond can illuminate the darkness; that the playful light of a heavenly virtue may be drawn down to earth, even by the iron of which misery forges its fetters.
ANECDOTE OF DR. CHAUNCY.
LESSON LXXXIII. Anecdote of Dr. Chauncy.
DR. CHAUNCY was a distinguished clergyman
Boston, who died in 1787.
1. DR. COOPER, who was a man of accomplished manners, and fond of society, was able, by the aid of his fine talents, to dispense with some of the severe study that others engaged in. This, however, did not escape the envy and malice of the world, and it was said, with a kind of petulant and absurd exaggeration, that he used to walk to the South End of a Saturday, and, if he saw a man riding into town in a black coat, would stop, and ask him to preach the next day.
2. Dr. Chauncy was a close student, very absent, and very irritable. On these traits in the character of the two clergymen, a servant of Dr. Chauncy laid a scheme for obtaining a particular object from his master. Scipio went into his master's study one morning, to receive some directions, which, the Doctor having given, resumed his writing, but the servant still remained. The master, looking up a few minutes afterwards, and supposing he had just come in, said, "Scipio, what do you want?" "I want a new coat, massa." 66 Well, go to Mrs. Chauncy, and tell her to give you one of my old coats;" and was again absorbed in his studies.
3. The servant remained fixed. After awhile, the Doctor, turning his eyes that way, saw him again, as if for the first time, and said, "What do you want, Scip?" "I want
a new coat, massa. "Well, go to my wife, and ask her to give you one of my old coats; " and fell to writing once more. Scipio remained in the same posture. After a few moments, the Doctor looked towards him, and repeated the former question, "Scipio, what do you want?" "I want a new coat, massa.
4. It now flashed over the Doctor's mind, that there was something of repetition in this dialogue. "Why, have I not told you before to ask Mrs. Chauncy to give you one? Get away." "Yes, massa, but I no want a black coat." "Not want a black coat! why not?" Why, massa, I 'fraid to tell you, but I don't want a black coat." "What's the reason you don't want a black coat? Tell me, directly." "O! massa, I don't want a black coat, but I 'fraid to tell you the reason, you so passionate.” "You rascal! will you tell me the reason?" "O! massa, I'm sure you be angry." "If I had my cane here, you villain, I'd break your bones. Will you tell me what you mean?" "I 'fraid to tell you, massa; I know you be angry.”
5. The Doctor's impatience was now highly irritated; and Scipio, perceiving, by his glance at the tongs, that he might find a substitute for the cane, and that he was sufficiently excited, said, "Well, massa, you make me tell, but I know you be angry, - I 'fraid, massa, if I wear another black coat, Dr. Cooper ask me to preach for him!" This unexpected termination realized the servant's calculation; his irritated master burst into a laugh, "Go, you rascal, get my hat and cane, and tell Mrs. Chauncy she may give you a coat of any color, a red one if you choose." Away went the negro to his mistress, and the Doctor to tell the story to his friend, Dr. Cooper.
LESSON LXXXIV. The Glory of God in the Beauties of Creation.
1. THOU art, O God! the life and light
Are but reflections caught from thee.
Where'er we turn, thy glories shine,
2. When day, with farewell beam, delays
Through golden vistas into heaven;
3. When night, with wings of starry gloom,
4. When youthful Spring around us breathes,
LESSON LXXXV. Domestic Love.
1. DOMESTIC Love! not in proud palace halls
When morn her saffron robe o'er heaven and earth doth fling.
2. O! love of loves! - to thy white hand is given
When the babes cling around their father's knee;
And thine the voice, that, on the midnight sea, Melts the rude mariner with thoughts of home, Peopling the gloom with all he longs to see. Spirit! I've built a shrine; and thou hast come And on its altar closed, forever closed, thy plume.
LESSON LXXXVI. A Gypsy Encampment in England.
1. THE road pursued by the two travellers, though sandy, was smooth and neat, and well tended, and came down to the slope of a long hill, exposing its course to the eye for nearly a mile. There was a gentle rise on each side, covered with wood; but this rise, and its forest burden, did not advance within a hundred yards of the road on either hand, leaving between, except where it was interrupted by some old sand-pits, a space of open ground, covered with short, green turf, with here and there an ancient oak standing forward before the other trees, and spreading its branches to the way-side.
2. To the right, was a little rivulet, gurgling along the deep bed it had worn for itself among the short grass, in its way towards a considerable river, that flowed through the alley, at about two miles' distance; and, on the left, the eye might range far amid the tall, separate trees, haps, lighting upon a stag at gaze, or a fallow deer tripping away over the dewy ground as light and gracefully as a lady in a ball-room, till sight became lost in the green shade and the dim wilderness of leaves and branches.
3. Amid the scattered oaks in advance of the wood, and nestled into the dry nooks of the sand-pits, appeared about half a dozen dirty, brown shreds of canvass, none of which seemed larger than a dinner napkin, yet which, spread over hoops, cross sticks, and other contrivances, served as habitations to six or seven families, of that wild and dingy race, whose existence and history are a phenomenon, not among the least strange of all the wonderful things that we pass by daily without investigation or inquiry.
4. At the mouths of one or two of these little dwellingplaces, might be seen some Gypsy women, with their peculiar straw bonnets, red cloaks, and silk handkerchiefs; some,
A GYPSY ENCAMPMENT.
withered, shrunk, and witch-like, bore evidently the traces of long years of wandering, exposure, and vicissitude; while others, with the warm rose of youth and health glowing through the golden brown of their skins, and their dark, gem-like eyes, flashing, undimmed by sorrow or infirmity, gave the beau idéal of a beautiful nation, long passed away from thrones and dignities, and left but as the fragments of a wreck, dashed to atoms by the waves of the past.
5. At one point, amid white-wood ashes, and many an unlawful feather from the plundered cock and violated turkey, sparkled a fire and boiled a caldron; and, round about the ancient beldame who presided over the pot, were placed, in various easy attitudes, several of the male members of the tribe, mostly covered with long, loose greatcoats, which bespoke the owners either changed or shrunk. A number of half-naked brats, engaged in many a sport, filled up the scene, and promised a sturdy and increasing race of rogues and vagabonds for after years.
6. Over the whole, wood, and road, and stream, and Gypsy encampment, was pouring, in full stream, the purple light of evening, with the long shadows stretching across, and marking the distances all the way up the slope of the hill. Where an undulation of the ground, about half way up the ascent, gave a wider space of light than ordinary, were seen two strangers, riding slowly down the road, whose appearance soon called the eyes of the Gypsy fraternity upon their movements; for the laws in regard to vagabondism had lately been strained somewhat hard, especially in that part of the country, and the natural consequence was, that the Gypsy and the beggar looked upon almost every human thing as an enemy.
7. As the travellers rode on, the Gypsy men, without moving from the places they had before occupied, eyed them from under their bent brows, affecting, withal, hardly to see them, while the urchins ran like young apes, by the side of their horses, performing all sorts of antics, and begging hard for halfpence; and, at length, a girl of about fifteen or sixteen, notwithstanding some forcible injunctions to forbear on the part of the old woman who was tending the caldron, sprang up the bank, beseeching the gentlemen, in the usual singsong of her tribe, to cross her hand with silver, and have their fortunes told; promising