B one day drove a flock of geese,
And met with Farmer A:
Says Farmer A, "How much a piece
For this flock did you pay?"
Says B, "I paid for all I drive
Just six pounds and a crown;
And I'm going to sell them, all but five,
At yonder market town;
When fifteen pence a head I'll charge
Above what they cost me,
And thus obtain a sum as large
As I gave for all you see."

How many geese did B buy? How much did he give for each? and What price did he ask? He bought 25 geese at 5s each, and meant to ask 6s 3d each.
Oft sought in the country, much prized in the town?
Like a king, above all, I can boast of a crown;
If not found in the palace, I grace the chateau;
Both the peer and the peasant my usefulness know.
When I've not seen six months I am said to be old;
Though exalted by nobles, I'm bought and I'm sold.
Though ne'er in a sermon, I take part in all chat;
Yet I'm ne'er found in this, but I'm always in that.
I'm seen in most colours, am brown, black, or white,
But am rarely found red and, when good, I am light;
In demand with both sexes, selected with care,
I'm prized by most men and add grace to the fair.
Of no use to my owner when kept in his sight,
I attend him by day, and oft serve him by night;
As his slave I am passive; yet, strange it may sound,
To keep me in order, I'm frequently bound.
My fetters are silken; I'm useless at home,
Though a constant companion whenever you roam;
And, though no enchantment within me doth dwell,
Pray tell me my name—for in that lies a spell!
A Hat.

'Twas born in anguish, 'twas cradled by care,
And has lived ever since in the depths of despair.
It dwells in the valley, it glides on the wave,
It is laid with our ashes when cold in the grave.
In darkness it brightens, in sunshine it dies,
As far from the smile of enjoyment it flies.
In the rainbow it sits, in the stars it has birth,
And with angels descending it visits the earth.
With Adam it dwelt, and so to Paradise came,
But eve knew it not, though it shared in her shame.
It mingles in battle, yet still it loves peace.
It joins in the banquet, the dance, and the chase
From the dream of our childhood it ne'er can depart
And it lies, like a gem, in the core of the heart.
The traveller bears it o'er desert along;
The nightingale loves it, though strange to her song.
On the point of an arrow it cleaves through the air
Yet the pinions of birds cannot follow it there.
The bosom disowns it, yet bright through our tears,
When shed in affection, it ever appears.
The cataract fearfully hurries it on,
But, search it through billows and tempest—'tis gone.
From the joys of our mortal existence 'tis driven;
Yet finds an unchanging asylum in heaven.
With the harp of the minstrel it ever shall dwell
And it comes to my lips as I utter "Farewell".
The Letter A.

Though grief gives me birth, I'm a stranger to care.
I scorn the dull earth, and float in the air.
No lover claims me, though I revel in bliss.
I taste of each lip, and melt in each kiss.
I'm an egotist's pride, though in silence I reign;
And, through free from sorrow, I'm always in pain.
Though in laughter ne'er seen, in mirth I delight;
In blindness I grope, though perfect in sight.
In foolishness, Wisdom, and wit I've a place;
Though dwelling in virtue I live in disgrace.
Though frost knows me not, with winter I blend;
And always to ice I'm a capital friend.
I'm never in heat, though I live in the fire.
Though never in want, I'm in every desire.
I am I—, but the end of my paper I spy;
So I'll wind up my stave and wish you good-by.
The Letter I.

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