3.  Such beautiful, beautiful hands! 
     They’re growing feeble now,
   For time and pain have left their mark
     On hands and heart and brow. 
   Alas! alas! the nearing time,
     And the sad, sad day to me,
   When ’neath the daisies, out of sight,
     These hands will folded be.

4.  But oh! beyond this shadow land,
     Where all is bright and fair,
   I know full well these dear old hands
     Will palms of victory bear;
   Where crystal streams through endless years
     Flow over golden sands,
   And where the old grow young again,
     I’ll clasp my mother’s hands.

XXXIII.  THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM.

Jane Taylor (b. 1783, d. 1824) was born in London.  Her mother was a writer of some note.  In connection with her sister Ann, Jane Taylor wrote several juvenile works of more than ordinary excellence.  Among them were “Hymns for Infant Minds” and “Original Poems.”  Besides these, she wrote “Display, a Tale,” “Essays in Rhyme,” and “Contributions of QQ.”  Her writings are graceful, and often contain a useful moral.

1.  An old dock that had stood for fifty years in a farmer’s kitchen, without giving its owner any cause of complaint, early one summer’s morning, before the family was stirring, suddenly stopped.  Upon this, the dial plate (if we may credit the fable) changed countenance with alarm; the hands made a vain effort to continue their course; the wheels remained motionless with surprise; the weights hung speechless; and each member felt disposed to lay the blame on the others.  At length the dial instituted a formal inquiry as to the cause of the stagnation, when hands, wheels, weights, with one voice, protested their innocence.

2.  But now a faint tick was heard below from the pendulum, who spoke thus:  “I confess myself to be the sole cause of the present stoppage; and I am willing, for the general satisfaction, to assign my reasons.  The truth is, that I am tired of ticking.”  Upon hearing this, the old clock became so enraged that it was upon the very point of striking.  “Lazy wire!” exclaimed the dial plate, holding up its bands.

3.  “Very good!” replied the pendulum; “it is vastly easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as everybody knows, set yourself up above me,—­it is vastly easy for you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness! you who have had nothing to do all your life but to stare people in the face, and to amuse yourself with watching all that goes on in the kitchen.  Think, I beseech you, how you would like to be shut up for life in this dark closet, and to wag backward and forward year after year, as I do.”

4.  “As to that,” said the dial, “is there not a window in your house on purpose for you to look through?” “For all that,” resumed the pendulum, “it is very dark here; and, although there is a window, I dare not stop even for an instant to look out at it.  Besides, I am really tired of my way of life; and, if you wish, I’ll tell you how I took this disgust at my employment.  I happened, this morning, to be calculating how many times I should have to tick in the course of only the next twenty-four hours; perhaps some one of you above there can give me the exact sum.”