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UP, Timothy, up with your staff and away! Not a soul in the village this morning will stay; The Hare has just started from Hamilton's
grounds, And Skiddaw is glad with the cry of the hounds.
-Of coats and of jackets both grey, scarlet and
green, On the slopes of the pastures all colours were
seen ; With their comely blue aprons and caps white
as snow, The girls on the hills made a holiday show, Vol. II.
The bason of Box-wood, * just six months be
fore, Had stood on the table at Timothy's door, A Coffin thro' Timothy's threshold had pass'd, One Child did it bear, and that child was his
OLD CUMBERLAND BEGGAR.
The Class of Beggars to which the Old Man bere described belongs, will probably soon be extinct. It consisted of poor, and, mostly, old ant infirm persons wbo confined themselves to a stated round in their neighbourbood, and bad certain fixed days, on which, at different bouses, they regularly received charity ; : sometimes in money, but mostly in provisions.
I SAW an aged 'Beggar in my walk,
road May thence remount at ease. The aged man Had placed his staff across the broad sinooth
stone That overlays the pile, and from a bag.
All white with flour, the dole of village dames,
birds, Not venturing yet to peck their destin'd meal, Approach'd within the length of half his staff.
Him from my childhood have I known, and
then He was só old, he seems not older now; He travels on, a solitary man, So helpless in appearance, that for him The sauntering horseman-traveller does not
throw With careless hand his alms upon the ground, But stops, that he may safely lodge the coin Within the old Man's hat; nor quits him so, But still when he has given his horse the rein Towards the aged Beggar, turns a look, Side-long and half-reverted. She who tends The toll-gate, when in summer at her door
She turns her wheel, if on the road she sees
He travels on, a solitary Man,
They move along the ground; and evermore,