rayer, and said, "O Father, forgive them!"

NOTE.--Nova Scotia was first settled by the French, but, in 1713, was
ceded to the English. The inhabitants refusing either to take the oath of
allegiance or to bear arms against their fellow-countrymen in the French
and Indian War, it was decided to remove the whole people, and distribute
them among the other British provinces. This was accordingly done in 1755.
The villages were burned to the ground, and the people hurried on board
the ships in such a way that but a few families remained undivided.

Longfellow's poem of "Evangeline" is founded on this incident, and the
above selection describes the scene where the male inhabitants of
Grand-Pre' are assembled in the church, and the order for their banishment
is first made known to them.

LXXIII. SONG OF THE SHIRT. (266)

Thomas Hood, 1798-1845, the son of a London bookseller, was born in that
city. He undertook, after leaving school, to learn the art of an engraver,
but soon gave up the business, and turned his attention to literature. His
lighter pieces, exhibiting his skill as a wit and punster, soon became
well known and popular. In 1821 he became subeditor of the "London
Magazine," and formed the acquaintance of the literary men of the
metropolis. The last years of his life were clouded by poverty and ill
health. Some of his most humorous pieces were written on a sick bed. Hood
is best known as a joker--a writer of "whims and oddities"--but he was no
mere joker. Some of his pieces are filled with the tenderest pathos; and a
gentle spirit, in love with justice and humanity, pervades even his
lighter compositions. His "Song of the Shirt" first appeared in the
"London Punch."
###

With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread:
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch,
She sang the "Song of the Shirt!"

"Work! work! work!
While the cock is crowing aloof!
And work! work! work!
Till the stars shine through the roof!
It is oh to be a slave
Along with the barbarous Turk,
Where woman has never a soul to save,
If this is Christian work!

"Work! work! work!
Till the brain begins to swim;
Work! work! work!
Till the eyes are heavy and dim!
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in a dream!