“Mrs. Glasse in a Treatise—­I wish you could read—­
    Our importance has shown, and has prov’d to us why
  Man shields us and feeds us:  of us he has need
    Ev’n before we are born, even after we die.”

WHICH IS THE FAVOURITE?

  Brothers and sisters I have many: 
  Though I know there is not any
  Of them but I love, yet I
  Will just name them all; and try,
  As one by one I count them o’er,
  If there be one a little more
  Lov’d by me than all the rest. 
  Yes; I do think, that I love best
  My brother Henry, because he
  Has always been most fond of me. 
  Yet, to be sure, there’s Isabel;
  I think I love her quite as well. 
  And, I assure you, little Ann,
  No brother nor no sister can
  Be more dear to me than she. 
  Only, I must say, Emily,
  Being the eldest, it’s right her
  To all the rest I should prefer. 
  Yet after all I’ve said, suppose
  My greatest fav’rite should be Rose. 
  No, John and Paul are both more dear
  To me than Rose, that’s always here,
  While they are half the year at school;
  And yet that neither is no rule. 
  I’ve nam’d them all, there’s only seven;
  I find my love to all so even,
  To every sister, every brother,
  I love not one more than another.

THE BEGGAR-MAN

  Abject, stooping, old, and wan,
  See yon wretched beggar man;
  Once a father’s hopeful heir,
  Once a mother’s tender care. 
  When too young to understand
  He but scorch’d his little hand,
  By the candle’s flaming light
  Attracted, dancing, spiral, bright,
  Clasping fond her darling round,
  A thousand kisses heal’d the wound. 
  Now abject, stooping, old, and wan,
  No mother tends the beggar man.

    Then nought too good for him to wear,
  With cherub face and flaxen hair,
  In fancy’s choicest gauds array’d,
  Cap of lace with rose to aid,
  Milk-white hat and feather blue,
  Shoes of red, and coral too
  With silver bells to please his ear,
  And charm the frequent ready tear. 
  Now abject, stooping, old, and wan,
  Neglected is the beggar man.

    See the boy advance in age,
  And learning spreads her useful page;
  In vain! for giddy pleasure calls,
  And shews the marbles, tops, and balls. 
  What’s learning to the charms of play? 
  The indulgent tutor must give way. 
  A heedless wilful dunce, and wild,
  The parents’ fondness spoil’d the child;
  The youth in vagrant courses ran;
  Now abject, stooping, old, and wan,
  Their fondling is the beggar man.

CHOOSING A PROFESSION