HUMAN CONDUCT.
Why is it that the heart of man
So full is of vagary,
That when he's told what's right, he jerks
The rein, and does contrary.
Like skittish horse, or stubborn pig,
Or other self-willed creature,
That in the public highways shows
Its vile and perverse nature.
There's many a lesson taught to man,
But little does he mind them,
Many's the warning given to him,—
He throws them all behind him.
But let me a short tale relate
Instead of moralising,
You'll prize it more, I dare to say,
Than any such premising.
The sun was shining on the hills,
The countryside looked sweeter,
And brighter and more beautiful
Than I can tell in metre.
It was the spring-time of the year,
That pleasant balmy season,
When freshness passes o'er the earth,
And come the buds the trees on.
When Nature young looks, and is young,
But though she dresses gaily,
The time grows old, for Time, like man,
Grows older daily, daily!
Ah me! that men should be so weak
As not to read the lesson,—
Ripe fruits are offered them, but they
The garbage love to mess on.
One day along a country road
With hedge and hawthorn bristling,
A country lad was passing, and
In merry mood was whistling.
Stout was he and his joints well knit,
And firm as time-tried timber,
But light withal and agile too,
No sapling yet was limber.
Anon a horseman came that way
Who sat on horseback rarely,
This the horse knew as well as he,
And so had bolted fairly.
The young man eyed him as he came
And was by no means idle,
For as he passed he leapt in front,
And caught him by the bridle.
The horse reared back, and with the shock
His rider fell right over
Among the mud, and well for him
The place was soft as clover.
Brought to his feet, without a hurt,
But all o'er very muddy,
He thanked the lad, well-pleased to find
He sound was and unbloody.
He was a thin spare man, and past
Mid-life, and looking sickly;
Not that his health was touched at all,
Or that his limbs were weakly;
But he had been for many years
In towns a constant dweller,
Confined to business close, and this
On health is oft a teller.
He had an eye for bales and goods,
And turnings of the market;
But for the country's picturesque,
His shadow rare did dark it.
He rode out had to breathe the air,
And give his nerves a bracing,
His steed unruly had become,
His horsemanship disgracing.
The countryman pulled up some grass,
No readier thing appearing,
And rubbed him down in ostler style,
The mud from off him clearing.
And then for having saved his life,—
To cut my tale the shorter,—
He offered him, as a reward,
To take him as his porter;
And if he showed capacity,
To give him education,
To make him fit in course of time,
To fill a higher station.
The youth agreed to't, for he thought,
(While handing back the bridle)
He'd like the change, besides just then
He happened to be idle.
In Glasgow busy city now,
Behold this country clown bred,
First porter and then junior clerk,
And learning to be town bred.
Years passed, the sun shines once a day,
But days make years, and every
Sun that rises counts one, thus time
Flows on, as water rivery.
Through all gradations of the desk
The youth, still true and steady,
Had risen till, from senior clerk,
He partner was already.
The merchant now, as commerce had
To counting-house long held him,
Resolved to take his ease at last,
And came to business seldom:
The junior partner and head-clerk
Care of the cash-box keeping,
While he himself had chosen to be
What's called the partner sleeping.
The countryman, no longer young,
Had toiled both late and early,
And gained some wealth, and 'twas his boast
That he had won it fairly.
But with it he had learnt betimes
And aye the more the faster,
Some of the city's ways that were
Not pleasing to his master.
He ne'er had married, and was fond
Of being hospitable;
For 'twas his pride always to have
His friends around his table:
And so extravagant became,
To feasting much addicted,
And rich wines drinking, which of course
His income much restricted.
One night his master was in town
And heard he had a party,
An old man now, not wanting sense,
But humorous and hearty;
Yet this he to himself oft thought,
He thought that 'twas a pity,
His clerk should spend his money in
Thus feasting all the city.
And so resolved to call on him
And bring him to his senses,
Not by a lecture commonplace
Of prudence and expenses:
But by a something which he had,
A sort of old memento,
That in his judgment was well worth
Of lectures grave a cento.
It was a frosty night, and there
Had been a fall of snow on,
The slippery streets required great skill
And caution them to go on.
With but one fall, he reached the house,
The entrance well he knew there,
Sudden and unexpected burst
Amidst the jovial crew there.
The gas burnt clear, the host looked blue,
And not the lights, as use is
When one particular guest appears
That no one introduces.
He said, "Lies the skeleton frost
On one street and another,
"I tripped and fell, and where I lay
One skeleton hugged his brother.
"His breath is on each pane congealed,
Cold enters through each portal,
"How my teeth chatter with the cold,
A sign that we are mortal.
"What's this, a banquet spread and rich,
The wines all bright and glowing,
"No thought of this when you I met
Along the road-side going."
He then produced a bundle which
He opened with derision,
And singly held up the contents
To their astonished vision.
There was the wellworn hairy cap,
The corderoys to back it,
His host had owned, and there too was
His former fustian jacket.
These were the clothes the country lad
Had on at their first meeting,
And these he now brought forth to be
To him his present greeting;
That he might pause in his career
Of jollity and revel,
Lest in his age, reduced he should
Be to his former level.
'Tis strange that human conduct oft
So reckless is and hollow,
That when the right path reason shows,
It seeks the wrong to follow.
The master having said and done,
Quick vanished from them after:
The host attempted at the time
To turn it off with laughter.
Next morn reflection made him take
The hint,—and to be brief then,—
Though roughly put, 'twas kindly meant,—
He turned o'er a new leaf then.
MORAL.
To be of any use, reproof
Still strong should be and home put,
A lecture grave or saying wise
The mind is quickly from put;
Instead of gen'ral moral saws,
Facts personal lay stress on,
And like a surgeon probing deep,
Reform is in the lesson.