[314-1] This is adapted from An Attic Philosopher in Paris.
[315-2] The cheap wine shops of Paris are outside the Barriers, to avoid the city tax.
ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER’S PICTURE
By William Cowper
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
Before we read this beautiful little poem, let us prepare ourselves by learning something about the author.
William Cowper, the son of an English clergyman, was born in 1731. He was a delicate, sensitive little boy whose life was made miserable by his companions in play and at school. So timid was he that the larger boys tyrannized over him shamefully, and the smaller ones teased him as much as they liked. When his mother died, William was but six years old, and the shrinking little lad was placed in a large boarding school where the other boys were cruel and heartless. At least, so they seemed to the frightened newcomer. Probably they were no more cruel and heartless than most strong and healthy youngsters who are accustomed to give and take without whimpering. Young Cowper was merely the strange lad whose timid and hesitating manner seemed to call for discipline. Years afterwards, still remembering the agony of these years, he wrote of one big boy in particular.
“His savage treatment of me impressed such a dread of his figure upon my mind that I well remember of being afraid to lift my eyes up higher than to his knees, and that I knew him better by his shoe-buckles than by any other part of his dress.”