The chests which lay in the court-yard,
We papered them so fair,
Making a house right famous,
And dwelt together there.
The old cat of our neighbor,
Came oft to make a call;
We made her bows and courtesies,
And compliments and all.
We asked with friendly question,
How her health was getting on:
To many an ancient pussy
The same we since have done.
In sensible discoursing
We sat like aged men,
And told how in our young days
All things had better been.
That Truth, Love and Religion
From the earth are vanished quite--
And now so dear is coffee,
And money is so tight!
But gone are childish gambols,
And all things fleeting prove--
Money, the world, our young days,
Religion, Truth and Love.
PAID FOR BY THE PAGE.
BY EDWARD S. GOULD.
The labourer is worthy of his hire. A man who produces an available
"article" for a newspaper or a periodical, is as properly entitled to a
pecuniary recompense, as a doctor, or a lawyer, or a clergy-man, for
professional services; or, as a merchant or a mechanic for his
transferable property.
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