Rustic Hospitality and Protection of the friendless.

But George was older by a year than me:—

He parted from me and was sent to Sea.

“Good-bye, dear Phoebe,” the poor fellow said!

Perhaps he'll come again; perhaps he's dead.

When I grew strong enough I went to place,

My Mistress had a sour ill-natured face;

And though I've been so often beat and chid,

I strove to please her, Sir: indeed, I did.

Weary and spiritless to bed I crept,

And always cried at night before I slept.

This Morning I offended; and I bore

A cruel beating, worse than all before.

Unknown to all the House I ran away;

And thus far travell'd through the sultry day;

And, O do n't send me back! I dare not go.’ —

‘ I send you back!’ the Miller cried,‘ no, no.’

Th’ appeals of Wretchedness had weight with him,

And Sympathy would warm him every limb;