For the Table Book.
WHITTLE SHEEPSHANKS, ESQ.
Formerly there was a farmer of very extensive property, who was also of great piety, residing in Craven, with the above awkward Christian and surname. He once purchased some sheep of a native of North Britain at one of the Skipton cattle fairs, and not having cash enough with him to pay for them, he said to the man, “I’ve no money by me at present, but I’ll settle with you next fair.” “An’ wha ma ye be, sir?” said the Scotsman. “What, don’t ye know me? I thought every body knew Whittle Sheepshanks.” “Hout! mon,” said the Scotsman, “dinna think to make a fule o’ me; wha’ ever heard sic a name o’ a sheepshanks wi’ a whittle to it.” This so offended Mr. Sheepshanks, that he changed his name to York.
T. Q. M.
For the Table Book.
MY “HOME.”
This is the soothing word that calms the mind under all the various anxieties, mortifications, and disappointments we meet with, day after day, in the busy world. This is the idea that enables us to support the most trying vexations and troubles—it is an antidote for every evil—
My “Home!”—There is a deliciously restful, quiet tone about the word. It presents heavenly ideas of soft ease, and gentle repose to the oppressed mind and languid body—ideas of quiet seclusion, where one’s powers and faculties may be relaxed, and be at rest. The idea of “home” is perhaps the only one which preserves an equal influence over us through all the different periods of life.