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not some great criminal, exposed in that box on the sea without provisions, as a punishment for some dreadful crime I had committed. Fortunately, I had with me in my box certain articles which convinced him of the truth of my narrative. There was the comb I had contrived out of the stumps of the king's beard, and another of the same materials, but fixed into a paring of her majesty's thumb-nail, which served for the back. Lastly, I desired him to see the breeches I had then on, which were made of a mouse's skin.

The captain was very well satisfied with this plain relation I had given him, and said he hoped, when we returned to England, I would oblige the public by putting it on paper, and making it public. I thanked him for his good opinion, and promised to take the matter into my thoughts. He said he wondered at one thing very much, which was to hear me speak so loud ; asking me whether the king queen of that country were thick of hearing. I told him it was what I had been used to for above two years pašt, and that I wondered as much at the voices of his men, who seemed to me only to whisper, and yet I could hear them well enough. But when I spoke in that country, it was like a man talking in the streets to another looking out from the top of a steeple, unless I was placed on a table, or held in a person's hand. I told him I had likewise observed another thing, that when I first got into the ship, and the sailors stood all about me, I thought they were the most contemptible little creatures I had ever beheld. For, indeed, while I was in that king's country I could never endure to look into a glass, after my eyes had been accustomed to look upon such prodigious objects.

When I came to England, I offered to leave my goods in security for the payment of my passage, but the captain protested he would not receive a farthing. We took a kind leave of each other, and I made him promise he would come and see nie at my

house in Redriff. When I came to my own house, one of the servants opened the door, and I bent down to go in, like a goose under a gate, for fear of striking my head. My wife ran out to embrace me, but I stooped lower than her knees, thinking she could otherwise never reach my mouth. My daughter kneeled to ask my blessing, but I could not see her till she arose, having been so long used to stand with my head and eyes lifted up to above sixty feet, and then I went to take her up with one hand by the waist. My wife protested I should never go to sea any more, after having suffered so many and strange adventures.

The Ydiot Boy.



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UND Betty, now at Susan's side,

Is in the middle of her story
What speedy help her boy will bring,
With many a most diverting thing

Of Johnny's wit and Johnny's glory.
Poor Susan moans, poor Susan groans :

As sure as there's a moon in heaven,"
Cries Betty," he'll be back again ;
They'll both be here—’tis almost ten-

Both will be here before eleven."
Poor Susan moans, poor Susan groans :

The clock gives warning for eleven
'Tis on the stroke. “He must be near,"
Quoth Betty, “and will soon be here,

As sure as there's a moon in heaven.
The clock is on the stroke of twelve,

And Johnny is not yet in sight;
The moon's in heaven, as Betty sees,
But Betty is not quite at ease,

And Susan has a dreadful night.
And Betty, half-an-hour ago,

On Johnny vile reflections cast :
“A little, idle, sauntering thing !
With other names, an endless string ;

But now that time is gone and past,
And Betty's drooping at the heart-

That happy time all past and gone !
“ How can it be he is so late?
The doctor he has made him wait-

Susan, they'll both be here anon.”




The clock is on the stroke of one,

But neither doctor nor his guide Appears along the moonlight roadThere's neither horse nor man abroad,

And Betty's still at Susan's side.
And Susan now begins to fear

Of sad mischances not a few-
That Johnny may, perhaps, be drowned,
Or lost, perhaps, and never found,

Which they must both for ever rue. " I must be gone, I must away!

Consider Johnny's but half wise ; Susan, we must take care of him : If he is hurt in life or limb”.

Oh, God forbid ! ” poor Susan cries. So through the moonlight lane she goes,

And far into the moonlight dale ; And how she ran, and how she walked, And all that to herself she talked,

Would surely be a tedious tale.
In high or low, above, below,

In great or small, in round or square,
In tree and tower, was Johnny seen;
In bush and brake, in black and green,

'Twas Johnny-Johnny everywhere! And while she crossed the bridge there came

A thought with which her heart is soreJohnay, perhaps, his horse forsook, To hunt the moon within the brook,

And never will be heard of more. “Oh, saints! what is become of him ?

Perhaps he's climbed into an oak, Where he will stay till he is dead ; Or sadly he has been misled,

And joined the wandering gipsy folk." At poor

old Susan then she railed, While to the town she posts away“ If Susan had not been so ill, Alas ! I should have had him still,

My Johnny, till my dying day.” But now she's fairly in the town,

And to the doctor's door she hies ; 'Tis silence all on every side; The town so long, the town so wide,

Is silent as the skies.

And now she's at the doctor's door,

She lifts the knocker, rap, rap, rap ;
The doctor at the casement shows
His glimmering eyes, that peep and doze ;

And one hand rubs his old nightcap.
“Oh, doctor! doctor! where's my Johnny ?''

“ I'm here ; what is't you want with me?”
“Oh, sir; you know I'm Betty Foy,
And I have lost my poor dear boy.

You know him-him you often see.
“ He's not so wise as some folk be."

“Don't chatter of his wisdom,” said
The doctor, looking somewhat grim :
“What, woman, should I know of him ?”

And, grumbling, he went back to bed.
“Oh, woe is me! Oh, woe is me!

Here will I die ! here will I die !
I thought to find my lost one here,
But he is neither far nor near.

Oh! what a wretched mother I!”
She stops, she stands, she looks about ;

Which way to turn she cannot tell :
Poor Betty ! it would ease her pain
If she had heart to knock again.

The clock strikes three-a dismal knell !
Then up along the town she hies—

No wonder if her senses fail ;
This piteous news, so much it shocked her,
She quite forgot to send the doctor

To comfort poor old Susan Gale.
She listens, but she cannot hear

The foot of horse, the voice of man !
The streams with softest sounds are flowing,
The grass, you almost hear it growing,

You hear it now if e'er you can.
And now she sits her down and weeps,

Such tears she never shed before ;
“Oh dear, dear pony ! my sweet joy !


Idiot Boy !
And we will ne'er o'erload thee more.


Oh carry

He that loses his conscience has nothing left that is worth keeping.

Young Scholars Compositions.

A GAME AT HARE AND HOUNDS. On the 23rd of April last, having obtained permission of my mother, I started at eight o'clock in the morning for a game of “ Hare and Hounds” with some of my companions. The “hare was given five minutes' start; but what was our dismay, on taking the path we thought he was gone, and ascending a rising ground, to see him more than a mile in our rear, and between 200 and 300 feet below us, skipping about the rocks that skirted the part of the bay from which we were receding. We immediately divided, one-half going to Beer, to drive the "bare" back to Seaton, and the rest to lie in ambush behind a large rock on Seaton beach, known as the Armchair Rock, because we knew that unless he went by boat he would have to pass us. After waiting nearly an hour we heard a shout above us, and, looking up, saw the “hare" coolly surveying our movements ; but presently another, much louder shout, startled us, and our companions came in sight, not twenty yards from the “hare," who, with a bound, cleared the fence before him, and set out towards Conchill Common. We hastened up to our companions, who told us they had run nearly into Branscombe, a distance of three miles. After hastily sharing some luncheon we each went separate ways, to beat the bushes at Conchill. I was standing by myself, out of sight of any of my companions, when I heard a rustling among the branches of a large oak overhead, and, looking up, I saw the “ hare" crawling carefully along on one of the top branches, and dropping into a lane on the other side of the hawthorn hedge near which I was standing. As there was no gap in this prickly barrier, I had to resort to the method the “hare" had adopted, viz., climb the oak, and let myself down by the branches on the other side. I ran as fast as I could, for the lane was very steep, and the hare" out of breath, for I was gaining on him every minute. At last he dropped down by the roadside, utterly exhausted. I immediately gave the signal to my companions that he was caught, and, running up to bim, tied his hands behind his back. When we were all assembled, and had rested for a little while, we marched our prisoner in triumph through the streets of Beer, and home, across the cliffs ; so ending a very pleasant holiday.

A. SEARLEY, aged 13 years. Sir IV. C. Trevelyan s School, Seaton, Devon,

AN AFTERNOON'S HOLIDAY. Last autumn we were invited out to tea at a gentleman's hall, on the occasion of his son's coming of age, and we very gladly accepted the invitation. We had some wagons kindly lent us for the occasion, and started about two o'clock in the afternoon. When we got to the gates leading to the hall some of the boys had to carry the flags, to keep them from breaking, as some of the branches of the trees reached very low. As we were riding up the gravel walk we could hear the music playing. Before tea we amused ourselves with

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