“Please bring me that old scrap-book, Robbie.�
The boy brought it, and the father read aloud these lines:—
“I have thought myself poor since God withheld
From me His lands and gold,
Forgetting that some of his gifts excelled
Mere wealth a thousand fold.
“For what is the wealth of the teeming fields
Beside thy love, wife mine?
And measured by joy a child’s love yields
What worth is a golden mine?�