The Milkmaid

A milkmaid, who poised a full pail on her head, Thus mused on her prospects in life, it is said: “Let me see,--I should think that this milk will procure One hundred good eggs, or fourscore, to be sure.

“Well then,--stop a bit,--it must not be forgotten, Some of these may be broken, and some may be rotten; But if twenty for accident should be detached, It will leave me just sixty sound eggs to be hatched.

“Well, sixty sound eggs,--no, sound chickens, I mean: Of these some may die,--we’ll suppose seventeen, Seventeen! not so many--say ten at the most, Which will leave fifty chickens to boil or to roast.

“But then there’s their barley: how much will they need? Why, they take but one grain at a time when they feed,-- So that’s a mere trifle; now then, let us see, At a fair market price how much money there’ll be.

“Six shillings a pair--five--four--three-and-six. To prevent all mistakes, that low price I will fix; Now what will that make? Fifty chickens, I said,-- Fifty times three-and-sixpence--I’ll ask Brother Ned.

“O, but stop,--three-and-sixpence a pair I must sell ’em: Well, a pair is a couple,--now then let us tell ’em: A couple in fifty will go (my poor brain!) Why, just a score times and five pair will remain.

“Twenty-five pair of fowls--now how tiresome it is That I can’t reckon up so much money as this: Well, there’s no use in trying, so let’s give a guess,-- I’ll say twenty pounds, and it can’t be no less.

“Twenty pounds, I am certain, will buy me a cow, Thirty geese and two turkeys,--eight pigs and a sow; Now if these turn out well, at the end of a year, I shall fill both my pockets with guineas, ‘tis clear.”

Forgetting her burden, when this she had said, The maid superciliously tossed up her head; When, alas for her prospects! her milk-pail descended, And so all her schemes for the future were ended.

This moral, I think, may be safely attached,-- “Reckon not on your chickens before they are hatched.”

--JEFFREYS TAYLOR.

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’Tis always morning somewhere, and above The awakening continents from shore to shore Somewhere the birds are singing evermore.