Rustic Hospitality and Protection of the friendless.

But George was older by a year than me:— He parted from me and was sent to Sea. "Good-bye, dear Phoebe," the poor fellow said! Perhaps he'll come again; perhaps he's dead. When I grew strong enough I went to place, My Mistress had a sour ill-natured face; And though I've been so often beat and chid, I strove to please her, Sir: indeed, I did. Weary and spiritless to bed I crept, And always cried at night before I slept. This Morning I offended; and I bore A cruel beating, worse than all before. Unknown to all the House I ran away; And thus far travell'd through the sultry day; And, O don't send me back! I dare not go.'— 'I send you back!' the Miller cried, 'no, no.' Th' appeals of Wretchedness had weight with him, And Sympathy would warm him every limb;