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n within my bosom Softly this I heard: "Each heart holds the secret: Kindness is the word." _John Boyle O'Reilly._ The Penny Ye Mean to Gie There's a funny tale 'of a stingy man, Who was none too good but might have been worse, Who went to his church, on a Sunday night And carried along his well-filled purse. When the sexton came with the begging plate, The church was but dim with the candle's light; The stingy man fumbled all thro' his purse, And chose a coin by touch and not by sight. It's an odd thing now that guineas should be So like unto pennies in shape and size. "I'll gie a penny," the stingy man said: "The poor must not gifts of pennies despise." The penny fell down with a clatter and ring! And back in his seat leaned the stingy man. "The world is full of the poor," he thought, "I can't help them all--I give what I can." Ha! ha! how the sexton smiled, to be sure, To see the gold guinea fall in the plate; Ha! ha! how the stingy man's heart was wrung, Perceiving his blunder--but just too late! "No matter," he said; "in the Lord's account That guinea of gold is set down to me-- They lend to him who give to the poor; It will not so bad an investment be." "Na, na, mon," the chuckling sexton cried out, "The Lord is na cheated--he kens thee well; He knew it was only by accident That out o' thy fingers the guinea fell! "He keeps an account, na doubt, for the puir; But in that account He'll set down to thee Na mair o' that golden guinea, my mon, Than the one bare penny ye mean to gie!" There's comfort, too, in the little tale-- A serious side as well as a joke-- A comfort for all the generous poor In the comical words the sexton spoke; A comfort to think that the good Lord knows How generous we really desire to be, And will give us credit in his account, For all the pennies we long "to gie." Leedle Yawcob Strauss I haf von funny leedle poy Vot gomes shust to my knee,-- Der queerest schap, der createst rogue As efer you dit see. He runs, und schumps, und schmashes dings In all barts off der house. But vot off dot? He vas mine son, Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss. He gets der measels und der mumbs, Und eferyding dot's oudt; He sbills mine glass off lager bier, Poots schnuff indo mine kraut; He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese-- Dot vas der roughest chouse; I'd dake dot vrom no oder poy But leedle
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