And, Emma, one for you and Ann,
Between you to divide;
As Charles is older than yourselves,
I hope you’re satisfied.
EMMA.
Oh yes, mamma, ’tis quite enough,
We could not wish for more;
We never in our lives have had
One half as much before.
CHARLES.
Mamma, you seem to be perplexed
With some unpleasant care;
You smile, but then ’tis not the smile
That I have seen you wear.
Pray, tell me is it anything
That I have said or done?
I hope, mamma, I never shall
Be an ungrateful son.
MOTHER.
Oh, no, my child; you ever have
Been dutiful and kind,
But still, there is a circumstance
That has perplexed my mind.
You know that worthy family
That lived up on the hill,—
Poor Mr. Smith, the clever man,
That used to tend the mill.
Last spring, his wife and little ones
Were very sick, you know;
When they recovered, he was seized,
And died a week ago.