Discontented Betty.
One morning as Betty sat milking her cow,
And thinking as much as her time would allow,
A neighbor came by who had known her for years,
To whom Betty confided her cares and her fears.
“Well, Betty, and how do you like your new place?”
Said she, “you’re looking in very good case!”
“Indeed,” replied Betty, “I never was worse,
For I find I am expected to slave like a horse;
By four in the morning I’m up at my work;
(Then there is nothing to live on but cabbage and pork!)
I’ve to wash, and to brew, and to dairy and bake,
And eight or nine beds every morning to make,
Besides keeping clean every place you can look in;
But the greatest annoyance, by far, is the cooking!”
Her friend, who had patiently heard all she said,
Observed, with a sigh and a shake of the head—
“Indeed, my dear Betty, contentment is wealth,
Though you have plenty to do, you have excellent health;
I assure you, (believe it or not as you please,)
I had rather be you, making butter and cheese,
Than the idle fine lady who lives at her ease!”
What boxes govern the world? The cartridge-box, the ballot-box, the jury-box, and the band-box.—New York Paper.
HOPE.
THE WORDS AND MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM.
1.
The lark whose morning song is gay,
At evening hath a pensive lay.
The thrush that caroll’d blithe at morn,
Sits silent now in yonder thorn.
But evening hath no frown for me;
No spectres in its gloom I see—
For hope, fond hope, looks thro’ the night,
And finds beyond its worlds of light.
2.
Then let the sun go deeply down,
And evening o’er the landscape frown—
My thoughts on wings of hope shall rise
To yon fair orbs beyond the skies.
And if, awhile, we tread the glade
Where clouds and darkness cast their shade,
Yet here—e’en here—hope’s wizard wand
Shall stud the gloom with stars beyond.
