John Ploughman’s Pictures

IF THE CAP FITS, WEAR IT.

Friendly Readers: Last time I made a book I trod on some people’s corns and bunions, and they wrote me angry letters, asking, “Did you mean me!” This time, to save them the expense of a halfpenny card, I will begin my book by saying.

Whether I please or whether I tease,

I’ll give you my honest mind; If the cap should fit, pray wear it a bit;

If not you can leave it behind.

No offence is meant; but if anything in these pages should come home to a man, let him not send it next door, but get a coop for his own chickens. What is the use of reading or hearing for other people? We do not eat and drink for them; why should we lend them our ears and not our mouths? Please then, good friend, if you find a hoe on these premises, weed your own garden with it.

I was speaking with Will Shepherd the other day about our master’s old donkey, and I said, “He is so old and stubborn, he really is not worth his keep.” “No,” said Will, “and worse still, he is so vicious, that I feel sure he’ll do somebody a mischief one of these days.” You know they say that walls have ears; we were talking rather loud, but we did not know that there were ears to haystacks. We stared, I tell you, when we saw Joe Scroggs come from behind the stack, looking red as a turkey-cock, and raving like mad. He burst out swearing at Will and me, like a cat spitting at a dog. His monkey was up and no mistake. He’d let us know that he was as good a man as either of us, or the two put together, for the matter of that. Talk about him in that way; he’d do — I don’t know what. I told old Joe we never thought of him, nor said a word about him, and he might just as well save his breath to cool his porridge, for nobody meant him any harm. This only made him call me a liar, and roar the louder. My friend, Will, was walking away, holding his sides, but when he saw that Scroggs was still in a fume, he laughed outright, and turned round on him and said, “Why, Joe, we were talking about master’s old donkey, and not about you; but, upon my word, I shall never see that donkey again without thinking of Joe Scroggs.” Joe puffed and blowed, but perhaps he thought it an awkward job, for he backed out of it, and Will and I went off to our work in rather a merry cue, for old Joe had blundered on the truth about himself for once in his life.

The aforesaid Will Shepherd has sometimes come down rather heavy upon me in his remarks, but it has done me good. It is partly through his home thrusts that I have come to write this new book, for he thought I was idle; perhaps I am, and perhaps I am not. Will forgets that I have other fish to fry and tails to butter; and he does not recollect that a ploughman’s mind wants to lie fallow a little, and can’t give a crop every year. It is hard to make rope when your hemp is all used up, or pancakes without batter, or rook pie without the birds; and so I found it hard to write more when I had said just about all I knew.

BURN A CANDLE AT BOTH ENDS, AND
IT WILL SOON BE GONE.

He came in to old Alderman Greedy’s money for he was his nephew; but, as the old saying is, the fork followed the rake, the spender was heir to the

hoarder. God has been very merciful to some of us in never letting money come rolling in upon us, for most men are carried off their legs if they meet with a great wave of fortune. Many of us would have been bigger sinners if we had been trusted

with larger purses. Poor Jack had plenty of pence, but little sense. Money is easier made than made use of. What is hard to gather is easy to scatter. The old gentleman had lined his nest well, but Jack made the feathers fly like flakes of snow in winter time. He got rid of his money by shovelfuls and then by cartloads. After spending the interest he began swallowing the capital, and so killed the goose that laid the golden eggs. He squandered his silver and gold in ways which must never be told. It would not go fast enough, and so he bought race-horses to run away with it. He got into the hands of blacklegs, and fell into company of which we shall say but little; only when such madams smile, men’s purses weep; these are a well without a bottom, and the more a fool throws in, the more he may. The greatest beauty often causes the greatest ruin. Play, women and wine are enough to make a prince a pauper.

Always taking out and never putting back soon empties the biggest sack, and so Jack found it; but he took no notice till his last shilling bade him good-by, and then he said he had been robbed; like silly Tom who put his finger in the fire anu said it was his bad luck.

IT TS HARD FOR AN EMPTY SACK TO

STAND UPRIGHT. ’

Sam may try a fine while befor”- he will make

one of his empty sacks stand upright.

he Were

not half daft he would have left off that job before

.he began it, and not have been an Irishman either.

Pie will come to his wit’s end before he sets the sack on its end. The old proverb, printed at the top, was made by a man who had burned his fingers with debtors, and it just means that when

folks have no money and are over head and ears in debt, as often .s not they leave off being upright, and tumble ove“” one way or another. He that has but four and sends five will soon need no purse, but he w”’ most likely begin to use his wits to keep himself afloat, and take to all sorts of dodges to manage it.

Nine times out of ten they begin by making promises to pay on a certa’n day when it is certain they have nothing to pay with. They are as bold at fixing the time as if they had my lord’s income. The day comes round as sure as Christmas, and then they haven’t a penny-piece in the world, and so they make all sorts of excuses and begin to promise again. Those who are quick to promise are generally slow to perform. They promise mountains and perform -’molehills. He who gives you fair words and nothing more feeds you with an empty spoon, and hungry creditors soon grow tired of that game. Promises don’t fill the belly. Promising men are not great favorites if they are not performing men. When such a fellow is called a liar he thinks he is hardly done by; and yet he is so, as sure as eggs are eggs, and there’s no denying it, as the boy said when the gardener caught him up the cherry tree.

A HANDSAW IS A GOOD THING, BUT
NOT TO SHAVE WITH.

Our friend will cut more than he will eat. and shave off something more than hair, and then he will blame the saw. His brains don’t lie in his beard,

nor yet in the skull above it, or he would see that his saw will only make sores. There’s sense in choosing your tools, for a pig’s tail will never make a good arrow, nor will his ear make a silk purse. You can’t catch rabbits with drums, nor

pigeons with plums. A good thing is not good out

of its place. It is much the same with lads and

girls; you can’t put all boys to one trade, nor send

all girls to the same service. One chap will make

a London clerk, and another will do better to

plough and sow and reap and mow and be a

farmer’s boy. It’s no use forcing them; a snail

will never run a race, nor a mouse drive a wagon.

“Send a boy to the well against his will, The pitcher will break and the water spill.”

With unwilling hounds it is hard to hunt hares. To go against nature and inclination is to row against wind and tide. They say you may praise a fool till you make him useful: I don’t know so much about that, but I do know that if I get a bad knife I generally cut my finger, and a blunt axe is more trouble than profit. No, let me shave with a razor if I shave at all, and do my ^’^ork with the best tools I can get.

Never set a man to work he is not fit for, for he will never do it well. They say that if pigs fly they always go with their tails forward, and awkward workmen are much the same. Nobody expects cows to catch crows, or hens to wear hats. There’s reason in roasting eggs, and there should be reason in choosing servants.

HUNCHBACK SEES NOT HIS OWN HUMP,
BUT HE SEES HIS NEIGHBOR’S.

He points at the man in front of him, but he is a good deal more of a guy himself. He should not laugh at the crooked until he is straight himself,

and not then. I hate to hear a raven croak at a crow for being black. A blind man should not blame his brother for squinting, and he who has lost his legs should not sneer at the lame. Yet so johjV flougitma.y’s pictures. 23

it is, the rottenest bough cracks first, and he who should be the last to speak is the first to rail. Bespattered hogs bespatter others, and he who is full of fault finds fault. They are most apt to speak ill of others who do most ill themselv.

“We’re very keen our neigbor’s hump to see,
We’re blind to that upon our back alone;
E’en though the lump far greater be,
It still remains to us unknown.”

It does US much hurt to judge our neighbors,

because it flatters our conceit, and our pride grows

quite fast enough without feeding. We accuse

others to excuse ourselves. We are such fools as

to dream that we are better because others are

worse, and we talk as if we could get up

by pulling others down. What is the good of

spying holes in people’s coats when we can’t mend

them? Talk of my debts if you mean to pay them;

if not, keep your red rag behind your ivory ridge.

A friend’s faults should not be advertised, and even

a stranger’s should not be published. He who

brays at an ass is an ass himself, and he who

makes a fool of another is a fool himself. Don’t

get into the habit of laughing at people, for the old

saying is, ‘^Hanging’s stretching and mocking’s

catching.”

Some must have their joke whoever they poke; For the sake of fun mischief is done. And to air their wit full many they hit.

DRUNKARDS, READ THIS!

EXPELS REASON,

DISTEMPERS THE BODY,

DIMINISHES STRENGTH,

INFLAMES THE BLOOD,

f INTERNAL 1

! EXTERNAL

CAUSES ETERNAL 1^ WOUNDS;

[INCURABLE J

IS

A WITCH TO THE SENSES,

A DEMON TO THE SOUL,

A THIEF TO THE PURSE,

A GUIDE TO BEGGARY, LECHERY AND VILLIANY.

IT IS

THE WIFE’S WOE and
THE CHILDREN’S SORROW.

MAKES A MAN

WALLOW WORSE THAN A BEAST and
ACT LIKE A FOOL.

HE IS

A SELF-MURDERER
WHO DRINKS TO ANOTHER’S GOOD HEALTH

AND

ROBS HIMSELF OF HIS OWN.

HE HAS A HOLE UNDER HIS NOSE,

AND HIS MONEY RUNS INTO YV.

This is the man who is always dry, because he

takes so much heavy wet. He is a loose fellow

who is fond of getting tight. He is no sooner up

ban his nose is in the cup, and his money begins to run down the hole which is just under his nose. He is not a blacksmith, but he has a spark in his throat, and all the publican’s barrels can’t put it out. If a pot of beer is a yard of land, he must have swallowed more acres than a ploughman

could get over for many a day, and still he goes on

swallowing until he takes to wallowing. All goes

down Gutter Lane. Like the snipe, he lives by

suction. If you ask him how he is, he says he would

be quite right if he could rnoisten his mouth. His

‘purse is a bottle, his bank is the publican’s till and

his casket is a cask; pewter is his precious metal,

and his pearl is a mixture of gin and beer. The

dew of his youth comes from Ben Nevis, and the

comfort of his soul is cordial gin. He is a walking

barrel, a living drain-pipe, a moving swill-tub.

They say “loath to drmk and loath to leave off,”

but he never needs persuading to begin, and as to

ending — that is out of the question while he can

borrow twopence. This is the gentleman who

sings:

He that buys land buys many stones,
He that buys meat buys many bones,
He that buys eggs buys many shells.
He that buys good ale buys nothing else.

He will never be hanged for leaving his drink

behind him. He drinks in season and out of

season: in summer because ne is hot, and in

winter because he is cold,

*Purl.

SCANT FEEDING OF MAN OR HORSE
IS SMALL PROFIT AND SURE LOSS.

What is saved out of food of cattle is a dead loss, for a horse can’t work if he is not fed. If an animal won’t pay for keeping he won’t pay for

starving. Even the land yields little if not nourished, and it is just the same with the poor beast. You might as well try to run a steam engine without coals, or drive a water mill without water, as a horse without putting corn into him. Thomas

Tusser, who wrote a book upon “Husbandry” in

the olden time, said,

“Who starveth his cattle, and wearieth them out By carting and ploughing, his gain I much doubt; But he that in labor doth use them aright Has gain to his comfort and cattle in plight.

Poor dumb animals cannot speak for themselves.

and therefore every one who has his speech should

olead for them. To keep them short of victuals is

a crying shame. The one in our picture seems to

be thoroughly broken in: look at his knees! His

owner ought to be flogged at the cai tail. I hate

cruelty, and above all things the cruelty which

starves the laboring beast.

A right good man is good to all,
And stints not stable, rack or stall;
Not only cares for horse and hog,
But kindly thinks of cat and dog.

Is not a man better than a beast? Then, depend

upon it, what is good for the ploughing horse is

good for the ploughing boy. A bellyful of plain

food is a wonderful help to a laboring man. A

starving workman is a dear servant. If you don’t

pay your men, they pay themselves, or else they

shirk their work. He who labors well should be

fed well, especially a ploughman.

“Let such have enow
That follow the plough.”

JOHN PLO L’GHA/A A” S PIC T URES.

A LOOKING-GLASS IS OF NO USE TO A

BLIND MAN.

He who will not see is much the same as if he had no eyes; indeed, in some things, the man without eyes has the advantage, for he is in the

dark and knows it, A lantern is of no use to a bat, and good teaching is lost on the man who will not learn. Reason is folly with the unreasonable. One man can lead a horse to the water, but a hundred cannot make him drink: it is easy work to

30 IVir AND IVISDOM OF SPURGEON,

tell a man the truth, but if he will not be convinced your labor is lost. We pity the poor blind, we cannot do so much as that for those who shut their eyes against the light.

A man who is b]»ind to his own faults is blind to his own interests. He who thinks that he never was a fool is a fool now. ‘He who never owns that he is wrong will never get right. He’ll mend, as the saying is, when he grows better, like sour beer in summer. Flow can a man take the smuts off his face, if he will not look in the glass, nor believe that they are there when he is told of them?

Prejudice shuts up many eyes in total darkness. The man knows already: he is positive and can swear to it, and it’s no use your arguing. He has made up his mind, and it did not take him long, for there’s very little of it, but when he has said a thing he sticks to it like cobbler’s wax. He is wiser than seven men that can render a reason. He is as positive as if he had been on the other side the’ curtain and looked into the back yard of the universe. He talks as if he carried all knowledge in his waiscoat pocket, like a peppermint lozenge. Those who like may try to teach him, but I don’t care to hold up a mirror to a mole.

DON’T CUT OFF YOUR NOSE TO SPITE
YOUR FACE.

Anger is a short madness. The less, we do when we go mad the better for everybody, and the less we go mad the better for ourselves. He is far

gone who hurts himself to wreak his vengeance on others. The old saying is, ‘Don’t cut off your head because it aches,” and another says, ‘*Set not your house on iire to spite th’.:; moon.” If things go awry, it is a poor way of mending to make them worse, as the man did who took to drinking because he could not marry the girl he liked. He must be a fool who cuts off his nose to spite his face, and yet this is what Dick did when he had vexed his old master, and because he was chid must needs give up his place, throw himself out of work, and starve his wdfe and family. Jane had been idle, and she knew it, but sooner than let her mistress speak to her, she gave warning, and lost as good a service as a maid could wish for. Old Griggs was wrong, and could not deny it, and yet because the parson’s sermon fitted him rather close, he took the sulks, and vowed he would never hear the good man again. It was his own loss, but he wouldn’t listen to reason, but was as wilful as a pig.

Do nothing when you are out of temper, and then you will have the less to undo. Let a hasty man’s passion be a warning to you; if he scalds you, take heed that you do not let your own pot boil over. Many a man has given himself a box on the ear in his blind rage, ay, and ended his own life out of spite. He who cannot curb his temper carries gunpowder in his bosom, and he is neither safe for himself nor his neighbors. When passion comes in at the door, what little sense there is indoors flies out at the window, NEVER STOP THE PLOUGH TO CATCH A MOUSE.

There’s not much profit in this game. Think of a man and a boy and four horses all standing still for the sake of a mouse I What would old friend Tusser say to that? I think he would

rhyme in this fashion:

A ploughman deserveth a cut of the whip
If for idle pretence he let the hours sHp.

Heaps of people act like the man in our picture.

They have a great work in hand which wants all their wits, and they leave it to squabble over some

pretty nothing, not worth a fig, Old master Tom

would say to them.

No more tittle tattle, go on with your cattle.

He could not bear for a farmer to let his horses out

for carting even, because it took their work away

from the farm, and so I am sure he would be in a

great stew if he saw farmers wasting their time at

matches and hunts and the like. He says:

“Who slacketh his tillage a carter to be, For groat got abroad, at home shall lose three; For sure by so doing he brings out of heart, Both land for the corn and horse for the cart.”

The main chance must be minded, and the little things must be borne with. Nobody would burn his house down to kill the black beetles, and it would never answer to kill the bullocks to feed the cats. If our baker left off making bread for a week while he cracked the cockroaches, what should we all do for breakfast? If the butcher sold no more meat till he had killed all the blow-flies, we should be many a day without mutton. If the water companies never gave the Londoners a drink till they had fished every gudgeon out of the Thames, how would the old ladies make their tea? There’s no use in stopping your fishing because of the seaweed nor your riding because of the dust.

EVERY MAN SHOULD SWEEP BEFORE
HIS OWN DOOR.

He is a wise man who has wit enough for his own affairs. It is a common thing for people to mind Number One, but not so common to see

people mend it. When it comes to spending money on labor or improvements, they think that repairs should begin at Number 2, and Number 3, and go on till all the houses up to Number 50 are touched up before any hint should be given to

Number One. Now, this is very stupid, for if charity should begin at home, certainly reformation should begin there too. It is a waste of time to go far away to make a clearance; there’s nothing like sweeping the snow from your own door. Let every dog carry his own tail. Mind your own business, and mend, your own manners, and if every man does the same all will be minded and mended, as the old song says:

“Should every man defend his house,

Then all would be defended;
If every man would mend a man,

Then all mankind were mended.”

A man who does not look well to his own concerns is not fit to be trusted with other people’s. Lots of folks are so busy abroad that they have no time to look at home. They say the cobbler’s wife goes barefoot, and the baker’s child gets no buns, and the sweep’s house has sooty chimneys. This comes of a man thinking he is everybody except himself. All the wit in the world is not in one head, and therefore the wisest man living is not bound to look after all his neighbors’ matters. There are wonderful people about, whose wisdom would beat Solomon into fits; and yet they have not sense enough to keep their own kettle from boiling over.

YOU MAY BEND THE SAPLING, BUT
NOT THE TREE.

Ladder and pole and cord will be of no use to straighten the bent tree; it should have been looked after much earlier. Train trees when they

are saplings, and young lads before the down comes on their chins. If you want a bullfinch to pipe, whistle to him while he is young; he will scarcely catch the tune after he has learned the wild bird’s note. Begin early to teach, for children begin early to sin. Catch them young and you

may hope to keep them.

Ere your boy has reached to seven,
Teach him well the way to heaven;
Better still the work will thrive
If he learns before he’s five.

What is learned young is learned for life. What we hear at the first we remember to the last. The bent twig grows up a crooked tree. Horse-breakers say,

“The tricks a colt getteth at his first backing, Will whilst he continueth never be lacking.”

When a boy is rebellious, conquer him, and do it

well the first time, that there may be no need to do

it again. A child’s first lesson should be obedience,

and after that you may teach it what you please,

yet the young mind must not be laced too tight, or

you may hurt its growth and hinder its strength.

They say a daft nurse makes a wise child, but I

do not believe it; nobody needs so much common

sense as a mother or a governess. It does not do

to be always thwarting; and yet remember, if you

give a child his will and a whelp his fill, both will

surely turn out ill. A child’s back must be made

to bend, but it must not be broken. He must be

ruled, but not with a rod of iron. His spirit must

be conguered, but not crushed.

“GREAT CRY AND LITTLE WOOL,” AS

THE MAN SAID WHO CLIPPED

THE SOW.

Now, is not this very like the world with its notions of pleasure? There is noise enough: laughter and shouting and boasting; but where is

the comfort which can warm the heart and give peace to the spirit? Generally there’s plenty of smoke and very little fire in what is called pleasure. It promises a nag and gives an g. Gayety is a sort of flash in the pan, a fifth of November squib, all fizz and bang and done for. The devil’s meal is all bran, and the world’s wine turns to vinegar. It is always making a great noise over nutshells. Thousands have had to weep over their blunder in looking for their heaven on earth; but they follow each other like sheep through a gap, not a bit the wiser for the experience of generations. It seems that every man must have a clip at his own particular pig, and cannot be made to believe that like all the rest it will yield him nothing but bristles. Men are not all of one mind as to what is best for them; they no more agree than the clocks in our village, but they all hang together in following after vanity, for to the core of their hearts they are vain. One shears the publican’s hog, which is so fond of the swill-tub, and he reckons upon bringing home a wonderful lot of wool; but everybody knows that he who goes to the “Woolpack” for wool will come home shorn: the “Blue Boar” is an uncommonly ugly animal to shear, and so is the “Red Lion.” Better shear off as fast as you can; it will be sheer folly to stop. You may loaf about the tap of the ‘’Halfmoon” till you get the full moon in your noddle, and need a keeper: it is the place for men whose wits go wool-gathering, but wool there is none.

A MAN MAY LOVE HIS HOUSE, THOUGH
HE RIDE NOT ON THE RIDGE.

You can love your house and not ride on the ridge; there’s a medium in everything. You can be fond of your wife without being her drudge, and

you can love your children dearly, and yet not give them their own way in everything Some men are of so strange a kidney that they set no bounds to their nonsense. If they are fond of roast beef they must needs suck the spit; they cannot rest with eating the pudding, they must swallow

the bag. If they dislike a thing, the very smell of

it sets them grumbling, and if they like it they

must have it everywhere and always, for nothing

else is half so sweet. When they do go in for eating

rabbits, they have

Rabbits young and rabbits old.
Rabbits hot and rabbits cold,
Rabbits tender, rabbits tough:
Never can they have enough.

Whatever they take up takes them up, and for a season they cannot seize on anything else. At election times the barber cannot trim his customer’s poll because of the polling, and the draper cannot serve you with calico because he is canvassing. The nation would go to the dogs altogether if the cat’s-meat man did not secure the election by sticking his mark on the ballot paper. It isupposed that the globe would leave off turning round if our Joe Scroggs did not go down to the “Dun Cow,” and read the paper, and have his say upon politics, in the presence of the House of Commons assembled in the tap-room. I do not quite think so, but I know this, that when the Whigs and the Tories and the Radicals are about, Scroggs is good for nothing all day long. What party he belongs to I don’t know, but I believe his leading principle will be seen in the following verse:

If gentlemen propose a glass,

He never says them nay;
For he always thinks it right to drink

While other people pay.

GREAT DRINKERS THINK THEMSELVES
GREAT MEN.

Wonderful men and white rats are not so scarce as most people think. Folks may talk as they like about Mr. Gladstone, Lord Beaconsfield,

and that sharp gentleman Bismarck, but Jack, and Tom, and Harry, and scores more that I know of, could manage their business for them a fine sight better; at least, they think so, and are quite ready to try. Great men are as plentiful as mice in an old wheat stack down our way. Every parish has one or two wonderful men; indeed, most public-houses could show one at least, and generally two; and I have heard that on Saturday nights, when our “Blue Dragon” is full, there may be seen as many as twenty of the greatest men in all the world in the tap-room, all making themselves greater by the help of pots of beer. When the jug has been filled and emptied a good many times, the blacksmith feels he ought to be prime minister; Styles, the carter, sees the way to take off the taxes, and old Hobbs, the rat-catcher, roars out,

“They’re all a pack of fools,
And good-for-nothing tools;
If they’d only send for me,
You’d see how things would be.”

If you have a fancy to listen to these great men when they are talking you need not go into the bar, for you can hear them outside the house; they generally speak four or five at a time, and every one in a Mitcham whisper, which is very like a shout. What a fine flow of words they have! There’s no end to it, and it’s a pity there was ever any beginning, for there’s generally a mix up of foul talk with their politics, and this sets them all roaring with laughter. A few evenings in such company would poison ‘the mind of the best lad in the parish.

TWO DOGS FIGHT FOR A BONE, AND A
THIRD RUNS AWAY WITH IT.

We have heard of the two men who quarrelled over an oyster, and called in a judge to settle the question; he ate the oysters himself, and gave them

a shell each. This reminds me of the story of the cow which two farmers could not agree about, and so the lawyers stepped in and milked the cow for them, and charged them for their trouble in drinking the milk. Little is got by law, but much is lost by it. A suit in law may last longer than any suit a tailor can make you, and you may yourself be worn out before it comes to an end. It is better far to make matters up and keep out of court, for if you are caught there you are caught in the brambles, and won’t get out without damage. John Ploughman feels a cold sweat at the thought of getting into the hands of lawyers. He does not mind going to Jericho, but he dreads the gentlemen on the road, for they seldom leave a feather upon any goose which they pick up.

However, if men will fight they must not blame the lawyers; if law were cheaper quarrelsome people would have more of it, and quite as much would be spent in the long run. Sometimes, however, we get dragged into court willy nilly, and then one had need be wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove. Happy is he who finds an honest lawyer, and does not try to be his own client. A good lawyer always tries to keep people out of law; but some clients are like moths with the candle, they must and will burn themselves. He who is so wise that he cannot be taught will have to pay for his pride.

STICK TO IT AND DO IT.

Set a stout heart to a stiff hill, and the wagon will get to the top of it. There’s nothing so hard but a harder thing will get through it; a strong job can be managed by a strong resolution. Have at

it and have it. Stick to it and succeed. Till a thing is done men wonder that you think it can be done, and when you have done it they wonder it was never done before.

In my picture the wagon is drawn by two horses; but I would have every man who wants to make his way in life pull as if all depended on himself. Very little is done right when it is left to other people. The more hands to do work the less there is done. One man will carry two pails of water for himself; two men will only carry one pail between them, and three will come home with never a drop at all. A child with several mothers will die before it runs alone. Know your business and give your mind to it, and you will find a buttered loaf where a sluggard loses his last crust.

In these times it’s no use being a farmer if you don’t mean work. The days are gone by for gentlemen to make a fortune off of a farm by going out shooting half their time. If foreign wheats keep on coming in, farmers will soon learn that

“He who by the plough would thrive,
Himself must either hold or drive.”

He is a sorry dog who wants game and will not hunt for it: let us never lie down in idle despair, but follow on till we succeed.

Rome was not built in a day, nor much else, unless it be a dog kennel. Things which cost no pains are slender gains. Where there has been little sweat there will be little sweet. Jonah’s gourd came up in a night, but then it perished in a night.

AN OLD FOX IS SHY OF A TRAP.

The old fox knows the trap of old. You don’t catch him so easily as you would a cub. He looks sharp at the sharp teeth, and seems to say,

‘* Hollo, my old chap,
I spy out your trap.
To-day, will you fetch me?
Or wait till you catch me?”

The cat asked the mice to supper, but only the

young ones would come to the feast, and they never

went home again. ‘’ Will you walk into my parlor?”

said the spider to the fly, and the silly creature did walk in, and was soon dead as a door-nail.

What a many traps have been set for some of us. Man-traps and woman-traps; traps to catch us by the eye, by the ear, by the throat, and by the nose; traps for the head and traps for the heart; day traps, and night traps, and traps for any time you like. The baits are of all sorts, alive and dead, male and female, common and particular. We had need be wiser than foxes, or we shall soon hear the snap of the man-trap and feel its teeth.

Beware of beginnings: he who does not take the first wrong step will not take the second. Beware of drops, for the fellows who drink take nothing but a “drop of beer,” or “a drop too much,” Drop your drop of grog. Beware of him who says, “Is it not a little one?” Little sins are the eggs of great sorrows. Beware of lips smeared with honey: see how many flies are caught with sweets. Beware of evil questions which raise needless doubts, and make it hard for a man to trust his Maker. Beware of a bad rich man who is very liberal to you; he will buy you first and sell you afterward. Beware of a dressy young woman, without a mind or a heart; you may be in a net be-r fore you can say Jack Robinson.

“Pretty fools are no ways rare:
Wise men will of such beware.”

A BLACK HEN LAYS A WHITE EGG.

The egg is white enough, though the hen is black as a coal. This is a very simple thing, but it has pleased the simple mind of John Ploughman, and made him cheer up when things have gone

hard with him. Out of evil comes good, through the great goodness of God. From threatening clouds we get refreshing showers; in dark mines men find bright jewels, and so from our worst troubles come our best blessings. The bitter cold sweetens the ground, and the rough winds fasten the roots of the old oaks. God sends us letters of love in envelopes with black borders. Many a time have I plucked sweet fruit from bramble bushes, and taken lovely roses from among prickly thorns. Trouble is to believing men and women like the sweetbrier in our hedges, and where it grows there is a delicious smell all around, if the dew do but fall upon it from above.

Cheer up, mates, all will come right in the end. The darkest night will turn to a fair morning in due time. Only let us trust in God, and keep our heads above the waves of fear. When our hearts are right with God, everything is right. Let us look for the silver which lines every cloud, and when we do not see it let us believe that it is there. We are all at school, and our great Teacher writes many a bright lesson on the blackboard of affliction. Scant fare teaches us to live on heavenly bread, sickness bids us send off for the good Physician, loss of friends makes Jesus more precious, and even the sinking of our spirits brings us to live more entirely upon God. All things are working together for the good of those who love God, and even death itself will bring them their highest gain. Thus the black hen lays a white &gg*

SZ^

HE LOOKS ONE WAY AND PULLS
ANOTHER.

He faces the shore, but he is pulling for the ship. This is the way of those who row in boats, and also of a great many who never trust themselves on the

water. The boatman is all right, but the hypocrite is all wrong, whatever rites he may practice. I cannot endure Mr. Facing-both-ways, yet he has swarms of cousins.

It is ill to be a saint without and a devil within, to be a servant of Christ before the world in order to serve the ends of self and the devil, while inwardly the heart hates all good things. There are good and bad of all classes, and hypocrites can be found among ploughmen as well as among parsons. It used to be so in the olden times, for I remember an old verse which draws out just such a character. The man says:

“I’ll have a religion all of my own, Whether Papist or Protestant shall not be known; And if it proves troublesome I will have none.”

In our Lord’s day many followed him, but it was only for the loaves and fishes. They do say that some in our parish don’t go quite so straight as the Jews did, for they go to the church for the loaves, and then go over to the Baptist chapel for the fishes- I don’t want to judge, but I certainly do know some who, if they do not care much for faith, are always following after charity.

Better die than sell your soul to the highest bidder. Better be shut up in the workhouse than fatten upon hypocrisy. Whatever else we barter, let us never try to turn a penny by religion, for hypocrisy is the meanest vice- a man can come to.

FOOLS SET STOOLS FOR WISE MEN TO
STUMBLE OVER.

This is what they call “a lark.” Fools set stools for wise men to stumble over. To ask questions is as easy as kissing your hand; to answer them is as

hard as fattening a greyhound. Any fool can throw a stone into a well, and the cleverest man in the parish may never be able to get it up again. Folly grows in all countries, and fools are all the world over, as he said who shod the goose. Silly people are pleased with their own nonsense, and

think it rare fun to quiz their betters. To catch a

wise man tripping is as good as bowling a fellow out

at a cricket match.

‘’Folly is wise in her own eyes,
Therefore she tries Wit to surprise.”

There are difficulties in everything except in eating pancakes, and nobody ought to be expected to untie all the knots in a net, or to make that straight which God has made crooked. He is the greatest fool of all who pretends to explain everything, and says he will not believe what he cannot understand. There are bones in the meat, but am I to go hungry till I can eat them? Must I never enjoy a cherry till I find one without a stone? John * Ploughman is not of that mind. He is under no call to doubt, for he is not a doctor: when people try to puzzle him he tells them that those who made the lock had better make the key, and those who put the cow in the pound had better get her out. Then they get cross, and John only says, You need not be crusty, for you are none too much baked.

A MAN IN A PASSION RIDES A HORSE
THAT RUNS AWAY WITH HIM.

When passion has run away with a man, who knows where it may carry him? Once let a rider lose power over his horse, and he may go over

hedge and ditch, and end in a tumble into the stone-quarry and a broken neck. No one can tell in cold blood what he may do when he gets angry; therefore it is best to run no risks. Those who feel their temper rising will be wise if they rise themselves and walk off to the pump. Let them fill their mouths with cold water, hold it there ten minutes at least, and then go indoors, and keep there until they feel as cool as a cucumber. If you carry loose gunpowder in your pocket, you had better not go where sparks are flying; and if you are bothered with an irritable nature you should move off when folks begin teasing you. Better keep out of a quarrel than fight your way through it.

Nothing is improved by anger, unless it be the arch of a cat’s back. A man with his back up is spoiling his figure. People look none the handsomer for being red in the face. It takes a great deal out of a man to get into a towering rage; it is almost as unhealthy as having a fit, and time has been when men have actually choked themselves with passion, and died on the spot. Whatever wrong I suffer it cannot do me half so much hurt as being angry about it; for passion shortens life and poisons peace.

When once we give way to temper, temper will claim a right of way, and come in easier every time. He that will be in a pet for any little thing will soon be out at elbows about nothing at all. A thunder-storm curdles the milk, and so does a passion sour the heart and spoil the character.

SCATTER AND INCREASE.

People will not believe it, and yet it is true as the gospel, that giving leads to thriving. John Bunyan said:

“There was a man, and some did count him mad, The more he gave away the more he had.”

He had an old saying to back him, one which is as

old as the hills, and as good as gold:

“Give and spend
And God will send.”

If a man cannot pay his debts he must not think of giving, for he has nothing of his own, and it is thieving to give away other people’s property. Be just before you are generous. Don’t give to Peter what is due to Paul. They used to say that ^’Give” is dead and ‘Restore” is buried, but I do not believe it any more than I do another saying, ^’there are only two honest men, one is dead and the other is not born.” No, no, there are many free hearts yet about, and John Ploughman knows a goodish few of them — people who don’t cry, “Go next door,” but who say, * ‘Here’s a little help, and we wish we could make it ten times as much.” God has often a great share in a small house, and many a little man has a large heart.

Now, you will find that liberal people are happy people, and get more enjoyment out of what they have than folks of a churlish mind. Misers never rest till they are put to bed with a shovel; they often get so wretched they would hang themselves only they grudge the expense of a rope. Generous souls are made happy by the happiness of others; the money they give to the poor buys them more pleasure than any other that they lay out.

HE WOULD PUT HIS FINGER IN THE

PIE, AND SO HE BURNED

HIS NAIL OFF.

Some men must have a .finger in every pie, or, as the proverb hath it, ‘* their oar must be in every man’s boat.’’ They seem to have no business

except to poke their noses into other people’s business; they ought to have snub noses, for they are pretty sure to be snubbed. Prying and spying, peddling and meddling, these folks are in everybody’s way, like the old toll-gate. They come without being sent for, stop without being asked, and cannot be got rid of, unless you take them by the left leg and throw them down stairs, and if you do that they will limp up again and hope they don’t intrude. No one pays them, and yet they -give advice more often than any lawyer; and though no one ever thanks them, yet there they are, peeping through keyholes and listening under the eaves. They are as great at asking questions as if they wanted you to say the catechism, and as eager to give their opinion as if you had gone down on your knees to ask it.

These folks are like dogs that fetch and carry; they run all over the place like starlings when they are feeding their young. They make much ado, but never do much, unless it is. mischief, and at this they are as apt as jackdaws. If any man has such people for his acquaintances, he may well say, “Save me from my friends.”

I know you assistance will lend;

When I want it I’ll speedily send;

You need not be making such stir,

But mind your own business, good sir. A LEAKING TAP IS A GREAT WASTER. A LEAKING tap is a great waster. Drop by drop, by day and by night, the liquor runs away, and the housewife wonders how so much can have gone. This is the fashion in which many laboring

men are kept poor. They don’t take care of the pence, and so they have no pounds to put in the bank. You cannot fill the rain-water butt if you do not catch the drops. A sixpence here and a shilling there, and his purse is empty before a

man dares to look in it. What with waste in the kitchen, waste at table and waste at the public-house, fools and their money soon part to meet no more. If the wife wastes too, there are two holes in the’ barrel. Sometimes the woman dresses in tawdry finery and gets in debt to the tally-man; and it is still worse if she takes to the bottle. When the goose drinks as deep as the gander, pots are soon empty, and the cupboard is bare. Then they talk about saving, like the man who locked the stable door after his horse was stolen. They will not save at the brim, but promise themselves and the pigs that they will do wonders when they get neai’ the bottom. It is well to follow the good old

rule

“Spend so as ye may
Spend for many a day.”

He who eats all the loaf at breakfast may whistle

for his dinner and get a dish of empties. If we do

not save while we have it we certainly shall not

save after all is gone. There is no grace in waste.

Economy is a duty; extravagance is a sin. The

old Book saith, He that hasteth to be rich shall

not be innocent,” and, depend upon it, he that

hasteth to be poor is in much the same box.

Stretch your legs according to the length of your

blanket, and never spend all that you have:

“Put a little by;
Things may go awry.”