The Good Scholar (Boston: Lee & Shepard; NY: Lee, Shepard & Dillingham, 1863)
THE GOOD SCHOLAR.
LEE & SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.
LEE, SHEPARD & DILLINGHAM,
49 Greene Street.
LEE & SHEPARD.
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
ELECTROTYPED AT THE
BOSTON STEROTYPE FOUNDRY.
1. MY TEACHER’S GEM.
2. THE SCHOLAR’S WELCOME.
3. GOING TO SCHOOL.
4. THE GOOD SCHOLAR.
5. UNCLE HENRY’S STORIES.
6. THE LIGHTHOUSE.
7. DOG STORIES.
8. REWARD OF MERIT.
9. STORIES FOR ALICE.
10. AUNT LIZZIE’S STORIES.
11. MOTHER’S STORIES.
12. GRANDPA’S STORIES.
32 volumes, in a neat box, or sold separately.
Dear Young Friend:
By the appointment of the School Committee, I am to be your teacher. This office is a very important and
responsible one. To me the parents have intrusted, during my time of service, some of their dearest interest—the education of their beloved children; their intellectual training, and the care of their manners and morals. If they expect diligence and faithfulness in the men they employ to labor in their fields or shops, they certainly expect the same in the person who is to cultivate the minds and the hearts of their children.
It is my sincere wish, and it will be my earnest endeavor, to perform all the duties of this office faithfully, so as to meet the approbation of the committee and the parents, and to make the school, in the highest degree, beneficial to the scholars.
But in order to do this, the scholars
must give their cheerful coöperation. The responsibility of making the school pleasant, and a source of improvement, rests upon the pupils as well as on the teacher. Each one must perform his part faithfully.
The object of the school is your improvement. And a teacher, however well qualified and faithful, cannot secure for you that object without you faithfully perform your duties. If you come to make the school a place of idleness and play instead of study, the teacher will labor for you in vain. You should come to the school as you would go to a trade,- -resolved to “do your best,”—to get all the benefit from it possible to become a good scholar. This should be your object now. make it your
earnest purpose to obtain all the good from the school you can.
This you owe, in the first place, to your parents.
Are you aware how much your school privileges cost? Though free to you, they cost your parents a good deal of money. A portion of the taxes they yearly pay goes, as you may know, to meet the numerous and large expenses of carrying on our national and state governments; and a portion to meet the expenses of conducting all our town business—such as laying out and keeping in repair the roads, taking care of the poor of the town, maintaining schools, &c. Now about one fourth of all the money raised by taxes in our
cities and towns is for schools! Then there is all the money for your books, stationery, &c. All this money your parents pay for your improvement in knowledge. And they have a right to expect that you will derive that improvement from your school. And if you idle away your school hours and neglect your school privileges, you do your parents as great a wrong—you as truly defraud them of their hard-earned money—as the teacher would by idling away his time and neglecting his school duties. Remember, then, that you owe it to your parents to derive from your school, by a faithful performance of every duty, the greatest possible benefit.
Then, in the second place, you owe it to your teacher.
Your parents will judge of the teacher’s fidelity by the progress you make in your studies. If they see, from week to week, that you are becoming more and more interested in your studies,—are making proficiency in your learning,—they will give your teacher the credit of fidelity. But, on the other hand, if they see no such interest or progress, they will be very likely to lay most of the blame on the teacher. They will feel that something is wrong in the management of the school. “Here we are paying our money,” they may say, “for the schooling of our children; but what does it amount to? They show no interest in their stud-
ies; it is all play. They seem to be getting no good—they might as well be at home.”
Do you not see how the teacher has to suffer for such idleness and want of improvement? If all the scholars were to do the same, the school would be ruined, and the reputation of the teacher be lost. And to cheat a teacher, in this way, of his reputation as an instructor, is even worse than cheating him of money.
In the third place, you owe it to your schoolmates to do all you can to make the school pleasant and interesting.
The conduct of some scholars in school is, as children sometimes say, “real mean”—it is wicked. They
seem to make it their study to avoid, as much as possible, all other study, and do all they can find a chance to do, to hinder those who wish to be studious. This is certainly mean and dishonest. To do any thing to interrupt and hinder others in their studies is worse than hindering them in their work, or even taking from them their money, for learning is better than money.
What would the parents say, were some one to come daily, and for hours together, hinder the teacher, and take him from the duties of the school? Would not that be dishonest—cheating the parents and the scholars? But is it not quite as bad to hinder the scholars from studying as to hinder the teacher
from hearing the lessons when studied?
If all the other scholars are attentive to their books,—scarcely looking from their lessons,—acting as though they meant to turn the school and the instructions of the teacher to the greatest possible account, how could you be idle? Such studiousness would shame a lazy, idle scholar, and inspire him with the same spirit of industry. But, on the contrary, if all are idle, whispering, making the school the means of improving them in roguery instead of knowledge, how could you be studious if you wished? What an injury such conduct would be to you!
Remember, then, that you owe it to your schoolmates to be studious
and faithful in all the duties of the school—to help, by your conduct, make the school pleasant and profitable to all.
In the fourth place, you owe it to yourself.
By neglecting to secure the benefits you ought from the school, you do yourself a serious wrong. In after life you will feel this, if you do not now. you certainly wish to be respected and useful in the world. But you will be neither useful nor respected, when you come forward in life, if, from idleness or love of pleasure, you grow up without having improved your mind. How you will then lament your folly! If you love play now better than study, you will
probably see hereafter some of your schoolmates taking high and honorable stations in life, while you are left, unrespected, to plod on in ignorance and obscurity. Many good people have lamented their misimprovement of early school privileges; but who ever heard one express sorrow because he made good use of them? Many a father has said, “I am resolved that my children shall never have to suffer the mortification and inconvenience that I have suffered from a neglected early education. If I can give them nothing else, I am resolved to give them a good education.”
Sir Walter Scott neglected study in his boyhood; and see how he bewailed it in after life! “It is with
the deepest regret,” he says, “that I recollect in my manhood the opportunities of learning which I neglected in my youth. Through every part of my literary career I have felt pinched and hampered by my own ignorance, and I would this moment give half the reputation I have had the good fortune to acquire, if, by doing so, I could rest the remaining part upon a sound foundation of learning and science.”
The lessons, too, which you may learn now in early life, are much more valuable than any others, because they are more enduring. “The lessons of infancy,” says an Arab proverb, “are graven on stone; the lessons of riper years disappear like the tracks of birds.” Now is your time
for graving your lessons on stone; and you owe to yourself to make the most of your school privileges. They will soon be past, and if neglected, they will be lost forever.
And once more, I would say, you owe it to your Maker, who has given you a mind to be educated—not only to avoid doing any thing to interrupt the peace and prosperity of the school, but to do all in your power to make it useful to yourself and to all connected with it.
“Your mind is like the talents which the man in the parable gave to his servants. You must not only preserve it carefully, but God expects you to enlarge and increase its powers. These powers are now comparatively feeble; but if you improve
your mind, as God designed you should, the one talent will in due time increase to ten talents, and your reward will be in proportion.”
Now, young friend, in order that the school may be thus pleasant and
useful, there are various duties for you to perform. I will mention two or three of the more important ones. And,
1. You must carefully regard, and cheerfully obey, all the rules of the school.
You know there are, in every family, school, society, town, state, and nation, certain rules and laws to regulate the conduct of the members. There can be no happy family, school, or community, without such rules and regulations. And these rules must be strictly obeyed to be of any service. To secure this obedience, there are always certain penalties, or punishments, connected with disobedience.
We have certain regulations and
rules in our school, which must be cheerfully complied with, or the school can be neither pleasant nor useful. they are regarded as essential to the prosperity of the school. They are all designed for the good fo each scholar and the whole school. They are adopted for your good as much as the good of any scholar. They leave each one to enjoy just as much liberty and freedom as will not interfere with the interests of the whole. Good laws were never designed to interfere with the rights or happiness of any one only so far as the highest good of the whole requires. They are intended to protect the rights and happiness of all. These laws and their penalties are always friends to the good and obed-
dient, but a terror to the lawless and wicked.
Punishment is no part of keeping school, only so far as is necessary to maintain the rules of the school. If these rules—which, we have seen, are essential to the peace and prosperity of the school—are all complied with, there will never be any such thing among us as punishment.
“Well, my son,” said a gentleman to a boy six or seven years old, “do you go to school?”
“Yes, sir, I have been three days, and I haven’t been punished once.” And he looked as though he had accomplished a feat that was worthy of his boasting. And why should he be punished? That s no object of going to school, any more than being
fined or sent to prison is an object of being a farmer or a storekeeper. What would you think to hear a boy say he had been on a farm or in a store three days and had not been arrested by an officer once? If he has not been breaking any of the laws of the community, why should he be arrested? And if he should break any of those laws and be punished, the punishment would not be for working on the farm or in teh store, but for crime. And so punishment in school is for crime—for the violation of rules—and not for going to school.
You should remember, young friend, that we must always be under laws—laws that will protect us from injury and injustice, and that
will also prevent us from doing injury or any injustice to others. If you learn to comply cheerfully with the rules of school, you will find it easy hereafter to comply with the laws of society, under which you must ever live.
The laws of the land and the rules of school are much like the fences that enclose the public ways. If there is a good road, you never find any inconvenience from the fences that enclose it. You never complain of them as abridging your liberty and interfering with your rights, and wish them out of the way. When you drive the cows to pasture, you find these same fences of great service, saving you many a run after your straying drove, and also preventing
other creatures from coming in from the fields to annoy you.
Now let us look at a few of the rules of our school, and see if they are not essential to the prosperity of the school, and consequently if they ought not to be regarded by every scholar.
One rule is, to begin and close the school at a stated hour.
Now suppose we had no such rule, or that it were disregarded by teacher and scholars, what would be the result? There would, of course, be no regularity in the attendance. Each would come and go when he chose, and the school would be constantly interrupted. The teacher, too, might begin at eight or eleven o’clock, and
close at three or at six, as he happened to feel. How soon would the school, under such management, be ruined. Its very existence, as well as its peace and usefulness, depends upon its regularity in this respect.
Another rule is, that the scholars must not whisper, or communicate with each other, without special permission; and that permission must be sought as seldom as possible.
The object of this rule is, that all may pursue their studies unmolested, and that the recitations may be attended to without disturbance. This rule requires no more of you than it does of all. And it promotes your good just as much as it does the good of others. If you whisper, all the rest have the same right to whisper
at the same time! And can you tell, by any rule of arithmetic, how much noise fifty scholars, whispering at the same time, would make? If you were engaged on a hard sum, or had but a short time to get a difficult lesson, or if you were reciting a lesson, how would you like such a disturbance? Can you not easily see how useful—how important to the good of the school and to your own good—is this rule against whispering?
Another rule is, that there must be no prompting, or in any way aiding each other, or any unfairness in the recitations.
A violation of this rule may be a great injury to a scholar. By receiving help from others, or by any unfair
means, he may form a habit of depending on such assistance, so as to lose his self-reliance. Then it is unjust to the rest of the class. A scholar may, in this manner, attain a higher rank in the class than he merits.
All such assistance from each other, or from concealed helps, or by any unfair means, is especially unsafe and improper at public examinations. How it lowers a scholar in the estimation of the committee and the visitors to be seen obtaining an answer by unfair means! How often scholars are sadly mortified by being detected in such dishonorable conduct! Better, a hundred times, fail in an answwer, or give a wrong one,than give a right one unfairly obtained.
Julia was a fine scholar—the best
in her class. Her reputation was so well known that a slight mistake or two at examination would scarcely affect her standing. And yet, so anxious was she not to fail in any thing, that she very foolishly concealed written answers in her book. Here was a temptation to dishonesty. And the consciousness of it seemed to weaken her self-possession and confidence, and she yielded. The committee saw it, and the cheeks of the poor girl were crimsoned with shame at the detection. Better have failed in every answer, than exposed herself to such mortification, and done herself such an injury. Besides, such conduct was morally wrong—it was deception.
Now is not the rule in regard to
this subject a good one? Good for the school as a whole, and good for every scholar?
I will mention only one other rule, and that relates to the intercourse of the scholars. We are a great family, and within our walls peace and harmony should ever reign. How unlovely to have alienations and strife—to see older scholars teasing the younger! Instead of this, the rule is, that all should act like a band of loving and affectionate brothers and sisters. Respect each other’s rights, and be careful and tender of each other’s feelings, and especially of those who are in any way less favored than the rest.
How pleasant and happy the school where these and all the rules are carefully complied with!
2. If you would derive benefit from the school, you must be constant and punctual in your attendance.
At a public examination of a High School, the teacher stated that one scholar had received only seven marks, during a course of four years, for loss of lessons; and three of these were
excused for sufficient reason! And during the whole period he had not received a single mark for wrong conduct. The same was true of several other scholars, during their course of three years!
Now such a habit of meeting every duty of school regularly and promptly, is worth every thing to a scholar. It will have a most happy effect on his future success in life. No one wishes to employ a person, or have any connection with him, who is often tardy, and inconstant in the performance of duty and in meeting his engagements.
All who have been particularly successful in any pursuit in life, have been remarkable for their punctuality. A want of this is a great defect in the
character of any one—it is an immorality. One person by his tardiness may cheat others of much valuable time. And time is money. Supposing the teacher of a school of fifty scholars should be tardy fifteen minutes. Here is a loss to each scholar of fifteen minutes— or for the whole school of more than twelve hours, or two whole days! If he is tardy fifteen minutes twice a week, there will be a loss, during a term of twelve weeks, to each scholar, of one day, or for the whole school, fifty days! And the scholar, too, experiences a personal loss every time he is absent or tardy. If frequently absent or tardy, the loss, during a single term of school, is a very serious matter.
Then, young friend, form the habit
now of meeting every duty and engagement promptly.
The three greatest sources of trouble in our schools, it has been said, are unnecessary absence, tardiness, and whispering.
In these remarks I have taken it for granted that your parents will do all they can to aid you in being at school constantly and seasonably, and in deriving from the school the greatest possible benefit. And I shall confidently rely upon their cheerful coöperation in all my endeavors for your improvement.
3. Another thing that you must do, if you would have the school a benefit to you, is to be studious.
Nothing can compensate for this.
No matter how popular and skilful may be the teacher, his efforts will all be in vain without studiousness on the part of the pupils. Elegant and commodious school rooms, excellent books, the best mode of instruction, and every possible facility to make the school interesting and useful, will all be in vain unless you are studious. No one can stdy for you, any more
than he can eat for you. The mind derives nourishment and strength from study, as the body does from food. But in both cases the nourishment will be useless unless you receive it yourself.
The benefit to be derived from your school will depend much more on your disposition to improve your advantages than on the character of your school house, books, or teacher. In our most costly and convenient school houses, under the instruction of the best of teachers, you may find some dunces,—the idle and the mischievous,—plagues to the teachers and annoyances to all the studious. And again, in a small, plain school house, with only an ordinary teacher, or other advantages, you may find
some real gems of scholars,—those that attend school to learn,—who understand and appreciate the object for which their parents pay so much school money.
“Whatever you do, do the best you can.” This was the excellent, parting advice of a venerable man to his grandchild. And the child always remembered it, and practised upon it; and it made him a man, useful in life, and respected by all who knew him. Make this your motto. When you play, play earnestly—do the best you can; and when you study, do it with a will.
It is a part of the teacher’s duty to attend to the manners and the morals of his pupils. And in this we have
the very best of helps. It is the custom, in most of our schools, to read a portion of the Holy Scriptures daily. And there is no book that contains more excellent lessons of good manners, true politeness, and good morals.
It is my hope that you, young
friend, will carefully read those lessons. Ever be polite and respectful in your conduct towards all,—inferiors as well as equals and superiors,—at home, at school, and wherever you may be. “Politeness,” says Dr. Witherspoon, “is real kindness kindly expressed.”
You should remember that you have the reputation of the school and the teacher, in a measure, in your keeping. Others will judge of us by the general behavior of the scholars. If you are, every where and to every one, civil and respectful, kindly expressing real kindness, you will honor the school and honor your teacher. This is shall confidently expect of you.
A very impressive precept of the Scriptures is, to be truthful.
Remember that this is “one of the foundation stones of a good character. The reputation which does not rest upon this foundation, is like the house built upon the sand. It cannot stand.” Now in childhood is the time to lay this corner-stone of the character deep and firm. Avoid all deception, in words, or actions, or looks. Let it be said of you, when you come to the close of life, whenever it may be, “He never told a lie!”
If you regard the precepts of the Scriptures, you will never indulge in profane language.
Profaneness is the most inexcusable of al sins. No possible advantage can be derived from it. And then the indulgence in it is not only sinful itself, but it leads to other sins.
This vice is seldom found alone. Out of 986 boys sentenced to the Massachusetts Reform School for crime, it was ascertained that 872 had been addicted to profanity. These boys were not committed for profaneness, but for other offences. From this statement it would seem that eight ninths of the boys who fall into criminal habits are profane swearers! Do you wonder that Howard, the philanthropist, used to button up his pocket when he heard a person swear, on the ground “that any one who can take God’s name in vain can also steal, or do any thing else that is bad?”
It has been said that the mouth is the chimney of the heart. That must be a corrupt heart indeed that can
pour forth from this chimney volumes of profane and foul words. No wonder that a mother, when she heard that her little son used such words, thoroughly washed his mouth with soap and sand and water. His heart needed washing too.
What a delightful school ours would be, if all of us obeyed every precept of the Bible! If we loved God with all the heart, and one another as ourselves, there would not be heard among us one profane, indecent, uncivil, unkind word, nor seen one improper action. All would be peace, and harmony, and love. Each one would be diligent and faithful in every duty, and the improvement of all would be rapid and great.
That such may be the case, and that the school may be one of great profit to you, young friend, is the sincere wish of
In every school there is one who is called the best scholar. Teachers and pupils have no difficulty in deciding who is entitled to this honorable distinction; and when we once heard
the pupils of a school exclaim, as a bright-eyed boy entered the room, “Here comes Frank: he is the best boy in school!” we thought, “What a good introduction to a new teacher!” After becoming acquainted with the scholars we found that they had told the truth. Frank was the best boy in school, and will no doubt become one of the best men in the city. Think of it, boys. “The best boy in school!” Who would not be proud of such a title? It is worth more than thousands of dollars. But perhaps some scholars will say, “We can’t all be the best.” This is true: but you have a right to try; and the one who will try the hardest will succeed, for there is power in that little word try. Frank could not be the best boy in
his school if he did not try. If you cannot be the best, be careful not to be the worst. Every school has one boy who is worse than any other scholar. We pity him; we pity his parents, his brothers and sisters. Let every boy who reads this resolve to be “the best boy in school.”
Here is a school just let loose. Who does not remember the “recess” and the intermission of his school days? The merriment and fun, and gushing of animal feelings, that have been restrained through long hours, how they burst forth when released, like rushing waters! The welkin rings with the merry shout, as confinement is exchanged for liberty, study for play.
Do you not find yourself, young reader, almost ready to jump and join these merry children in their play? But look! that rogue of a boy, with his hat high over his head, we fear has a wicked purpose in his heart in
* See Frontispiece.
regard to that golden-winged butterfly. Little boy, hark you! Do not crush and spoil those delicate and beautifully tinted wings. Do not quench that short and sunny life. One blow with your hat will do mischief you can never repair. Then leave the pretty butterfly to his brief joys, and seek yours in some other way. Play—yes, let loose all the pent up joys of your young heart; but do not be cruel to your mates, or to any of God’s creatures.
This picture seems to represent a little boy playing truant. We will call his name,—let us see,—well, almost any name will answer—say, Jim Tardy.
We suppose his poor mother gave him as good a breakfast this morning as she had, and then sent him off to school. She wants her little boy to get all the learning he is able, and grow up to be a useful man, and a comfort to her in her old age.
Since his father died, Jim’s mother has had to look to him for help. Many an errand he has to do for her. If he would always be prompt and obedient, he would make her sad heart sing for joy. But Jim doesn’t love to work or to study. He had much rather chase the butterflies, hunt birds’ nests, and play among the flowers.
You see Jim Tardy has got so far on his way to school. He has thrown down his satchel of books, and here he is amusing himself among this pro-
fusion of wild flowers. We don’t blame Jim, or any other little boy or girl, for loving flowers; but they should not forget the beautiful flowers that are strewed all along the paths of knowledge. Afer all, we are not quite sure that it is a flower with which this little boy is so engrossed. Can it be that he has a butterfly, or some other creature that he is tearing in pieces? We hope not. Certainly he is not hastening to school, as he should be, but playing truant! That means “an idler,—an idle boy,”—and that is always a dangerous and wicked play.
Here we have this young truant again. He has finished his play, and seems to have come to himself, and found he is too late for school. And
now what shall he do? What excuse can he make either to his teacher
or his mother for being tardy? The poor boy looks sad about it. He must either make up a false story as an
excuse, or risk a punishment at school, and perhaps at home also.
Ah, young friends, that is the fruit of wrong doing—of sin. It always brings sorrow and pain with it. If Jim had gone directly to school, he could have met his teacher with a smiling face and a peaceful conscience. But now, see how sad he is, as he looks down upon his satchel! Should he go to school, and the teacher ask him no questions about his absence, still the reproofs of conscience would make him unhappy; and when he returns to his mother, he will be obliged to carry around with him the secret that he has disobeyed her.
We trust the readers of this book will never be found acting the idler and playing the truant. Admire
the sweet flowers and the beautiful creatures God has made as much as you choose, but never let them allure you away from the path of duty and obedience.
A GOOD SIGN.
While all the rest of the schoolgirls are playing, here is Emma, seated on a green bank, reading.
Is not that a good sign? Would not
the mothers of all our readers say, ‘Yes, you may play with Emma whenever she invites you.”
Here is another “good sign.”
“Mother, I am sure James is a better boy now.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because, when the schoolboys did not know where he was the other day, I found him by a tree praying.”
“A good sign, Willie. You may go and play with him whenever he invites you.”
You remember Ananias was afraid to go and see Saul of Tarsus, when he was blind in the house of Simon, at Damascus. It is no wonder, for he knew what a strong persecutor Saul had been. But as soon as he was told that Saul was now a pray-
ing man, he was willing to go. He knew that it was a good sign—“Behold, he prayeth!”
A traveller once stopped at a strange house to rest for the night. The people were at first afraid he would rob them. They locked their best things up very carefully. But, before retiring, he asked for a Bible, and then had worship in their house. They felt safe then, for they knew the good sign—“Behold, he prayeth!” Those who trust themselves to God can be trusted.
THE APPLE WAR.
A number of years ago there was a boarding school in England for boys of the Society of Friends; there were also schools for boys of other denominations in the same town, whom, for distinction’s sake, I will call town boys, and the others, Friend boys.
It was the practice of the town boys, whenever they met any of the Friend boys in the street, to shout after them, “Quaker, Quaker!” and other opprobrious names. This, no doubt, was mortifying to the Friend boys, but they passed on, and reviled not again.
Things continued in this state for a long time, until one day the Friend boys were taken out for a country walk, and being about to ascend a high hill, they observed some of the town boys at play near where they had to pass, and they said one to another, “Now we shall catch it!” And, sure enough, they did, and that pretty smartly; for as soon as the town boys espied them, they shouted out most vociferously, “Qua-
ker! Quaker! Quack! quack!” so long as they could be heard.
When the Friend boys arrived at the top of the hill, and seeing their enemies at such a disadvantage below them, they deemed it a fitting time to retaliate, and sent down a few missiles, by way of alarm, into the enemy’s camp. This unexpected salute startled the town boys, and they indignantly exclaimed, “Why, these Quaker boys are pelting us with stones!” And in their haste they vowed revenge; but immediately a volley of the same sort of ammunition came pouring down upon them, when, to their great surprise, as well as gratification, they found that they had been attacked, not with stones, but with apples, which the Friend
boys had brought from home in their picnic baskets, but for another purpose. Now, as all boys love apples, they soon gathered up these peaceable missiles, and began to eat.
One of the boys, of more reflection than the rest, observed how remarkable it was, that the very boys who had for a long time received nothing but ill usage, without a word of complaint in return, had now given them a quantity of apples; this was to them most marvellous treatment. They now began to see the evil of their conduct, and, boy-like, to accuse each other of beginning the attack. None, however, were willing to be regarded as the ringleaders, but all of them agreed that a very different treatment in
future was due to such kind boys, and they one and all determined to practise it. On arriving at their school in the evening, this remarkable incident became the subject of general conversation among the boys. After some deliberation, they concluded to send two or three of their number as an embassy of peace to the Friends’ school, to acknowledge the wrong practice they had hitherto followed, and asking forgiveness for what they had done.
We need not add how kindly they were received, and how cordially the Friend boys agreed to cancel all past grievances.
There’s a monster at first seems an angel of light,
And he flies on beautiful wings;
But at the last like a serpent he’ll bite;
At the last like an adder he stings.
He fires the heart, and he crazes the brain,
As he sweeps through the blood like a hurricane.
In the sparkling wine he moves to beguile
He lures in the foaming ale;
His victims go to sleep with a smile,
But they awake with a wail.
Chorus.—There’s a monster, &c.
Away! away! ye fiend of the bowl;
Your power is known full well;
You kill the body and the soul,
And cast them into hell.
Chorus.—There’s a monster, &c.