Good works, of faith the fruit,
Should ripen year by year,
Of health and soundness at the root
And evidence sincere.
Dear Savior, grant thy blessing free
And make our faith no barren tree.
Lydia H. Sigourney.
* * * * *
na’bob ap plaud’ed un as sum’ing sad’ dler dif’ fi dence sec’ re ta ry ob scured’ live’ li hood su per cil’ i ous
A MODEST WIT.
A supercilious nabob of the
Haughty, being great—purse-proud, being rich—
A governor, or general, at the least,
I have forgotten which—
Had in his family a humble youth,
Who went from England in his patron’s suit,
An unassuming boy, in truth
A lad of decent parts, and good repute.
This youth had sense and spirit;
But yet with all his sense,
Obscured his merit.
One day, at table, flushed with
pride and wine,
His honor, proudly free, severely merry,
Conceived it would be vastly fine
To crack a joke upon his secretary.
“Young man,” said
he, “by what art, craft, or trade,
Did your good father gain a livelihood?”—
“He was a saddler, sir,” Modestus said,
“And in his line was reckoned good.”
“A saddler, eh? and taught
Instead of teaching you to sew!
Pray, why did not your father make
A saddler, sir, of you?”
Each flatterer, then, as in
The joke applauded, and the laugh went round.
At length, Modestus, bowing low,
Said (craving pardon, if too free he made),
“Sir, by your leave, I fain would know
Your father’s trade!”
“My father’s trade? Heavens! that’s too bad! My father’s trade! Why, blockhead, are you mad? My father, sir, did never stoop so low. He was a gentleman, I’d have you know.”
“Excuse the liberty I
Modestus said, with archness on his brow,
“Pray, why did not your father make
A gentleman of you?”
* * * * *
archness, sly humor free from malice.
suit (s[=u]t), the people who attend upon a person of distinction; often written suite (sw[=e]t).
Write the plural forms of boy, man, duty, youth, family, secretary.
Copy these sentences, using other words instead of those in italics:
He was an unassuming boy, of decent parts and good repute. His diffidence obscured his merit. Excuse the liberty I take.
is but the guinea’s stamp,—
The man’s the gold for a’ that!
One cannot always be a hero, but one can always be a man.