Pat went to his mistress: "My lady, your mare
In harness, goes well as a dray-horse, I swear:
I tried, as you're thinking to sell her, or let her,
For coming on thus, she'll go off all the better."
"Twas very well thought of" the lady replied,
"You've acted a sensible part.
But Patrick, pray tell me the day that you tried,
Of whom did you borrow the cart?"
"The cart? why, she walk'd well in harness, I saw,
But I thought not, by no manes, to try if she'd draw;
For says I, by Saint Patrick, who, her comes to view,
To tell him, she has been 'in harness' will do!"
M.L.B.
THE MONTHS.
AUGUST.
MRS. ROBINSON.All around
The yellow sheaves, catching the burning beam,
Glow, golden lustre.
All around
The yellow sheaves, catching the burning beam,
Glow, golden lustre.
This is the month of harvest. The crops usually begin with rye and oats, proceed with wheat, and finish with pease and beans. Harvest-home is still the greatest rural holiday in England, because it concludes at once the most laborious and most lucrative of the farmer's employments, and unites repose and profit. Thank heaven, there are, and must be, seasons of some repose in agricultural employments, or the countryman would work with as unceasing a madness, and contrive to be almost as diseased and unhealthy as the citizen. But here again, and for the reasons already mentioned, our holiday-making is not what it was. Our ancestors used to burst into an enthusiasm of joy at the end of harvest, and even mingled their previous labour with considerable merry-making, in which they imitated the equality of the earlier ages. They crowned the wheat-sheaves with flowers, they sung, they shouted, they danced, they invited each other, or met to feast as at Christmas, in the halls of rich houses; and, what was a very amiable custom, and wise beyond the commoner wisdom that may seem to lie on the top of it, every one that had been concerned, man, woman, and child, received a little present, ribbons, laces, or sweetmeats.