﻿290 PICTORIAL MISCELLANY. 



Seeing how they were kind and good, 



Hath felt his stubborn soul subdued ; 



And the very sight of their young at play 



Hath put his hunter's heart away : 



And a mood of pity hath o'er him crept, 



As he thought of his own dear babes, and wept 



I know ye are but the beavers small, 

 Living at peace in your own mud wall ; 

 I know that ye have no books to teach 

 The lore that lies within your reach ; 

 But what? Five thousand years ago 

 Ye knew as much as now ye know ; 

 And on the banks of streams that sprung 

 Forth when the earth itself was young, 

 Your wondrous works were formed as true ; 

 For the All- Wise instructed you. 

 But man ! how hath he pondered on, 

 Through the long term of ages gone ; 

 And many a cunning book hath writ, 

 Of learning deep, and subtle wit; 

 Hath compassed sea, hath compassed land, 

 Hath built up towers and temples grand, 

 Hath travelled far for hidden lore, 

 And known what was not known of yore ; 

 Yet after all, though wise he be, 

 He hath no better skill than ye ! 



Billy Egg. 



"CAN you direct me to Mr. William Egg's?" said I one morning 

 to a smart shopman, who was loitering at the door of a showy hab- 

 erdasher in the principal street of a town in Ireland, in which, for a 

 few months, I once resided. I had been told by two or three persons, 

 that Billy Egg's was the best shop in the place ; for that he being a 

 general dealer on a very large scale, I should be sure to get " every- 

 thing in the world there." Moreover, I had been instructed that he 

 sold good articles at a cheap rate, and being a stranger, I felt truly 

 glad that I had been recommended to a tradesman on whom I could 

 confidently rely. " Can you direct me to Mr. Egg's ? " I repeated, 



