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THE PILGRIMS AND THE PEAS.— PETER PINDAR.
And consequently be a good adviser:
And never be a whit the wiser.
The genius of each man, with keenness view-
A glorious bonfire up in you.
Of famed Columbus and his egg,
A TRUE STORY. A brace of sinners, for no good,
Were ordered to the Virgin Mary's shrine, Who at Loretto dwelt, in wax, stone, wood,
And in a fair white wig looked wondrous fine.
A sort of apostolic salt,
But very diff'rent was their speed, I wot:
The other limped, as if he had been shot.
Had his soul white-washed all so clever;
The dry and embalming air of the mine
Who was he, then? No man could say
In their great rough arms, begrimed with coal,
To the outer world of the short warm grass.
Older than any one here, I guess!
So they brought old Bess with her silver hair,
And the crowd around him all gave way,
Then suddenly rang a sharp, low cry!
“O Willie! Willie! my lad! my lost!
Between us! .... O Willie! how strange it seems
A BOY.-N. P. WILLIS.
There's something in a noble boy,
A brave, free-hearted, careless one,
His dread of books and love of fun,