The farmer is a happy man, His life is free from care, With naught to make his spirit sad Or make him want to swear; All day among the c.o.c.kle burrs He gaily grubs and hoes, And money never troubles him, Unless 'tis what he owes.

How sweet at early dawn of day To rise before the sun, And hustle briskly round the barn Till all the ch.o.r.es are done; To feed the cows, and milk them, too, In brightly shining pails, The while they tread upon your corns And thump you with their tails.

How sweet to hie into the field, From breakfast smoking hot, And chase a plough all day around A forty acre lot, And, when it strikes against a stone, Drawn by the horses stout, To have the handles prance around And punch your daylights out.

How sweet at noon to lie at ease Beneath some spreading tree, And hold a secret session With an ardent b.u.mble bee, And when your rheumatism makes Your legs refuse to go, How sweet to lie upon your back And watch your mortgage grow.

And when the busy cares of day Have faded with the light, How sweet to lie in peaceful sleep Throughout the dewy night, And to hear the partner of your joys, At the first faint tinge of dawn, Shout, "Come, old granger, hump yourself The cows are in the corn."

MORTIMER C. BROWN.

_THE SON OF A SOLDIER_

BY OWEN OLIVER.

(_Reprinted from "To-Day" by kind permission of the Author._)

You'll be sure to know my daddy, 'Cause he wears a coat of red.

An' a rifle, an' a bay'net, An' a helmet on his head.

An' he's very big an' handsome, An' his name is Sergeant Smith, An' he's gone to fight the Boers That our Queen is angry with.

He's the good Queen's faithful soldier, So he's angry, too, of course-- I expects they _will_ be frightened When they know my daddy's cross!

Daddy took me up and nursed me 'For he went on Friday week; "Sonny-boy," he said, "Here's sixpence, Bless you, lad!" and kissed my cheek, "Mind you write to me and tell me How you're doing at your books, How the baby's learning walking, How your little sister looks, How you're good and helping mother-- That's the news I want to find."

Mine is only printing writing, But my daddy doesn't mind.

I'm my daddy's little soldier, An I've often heard him say, Soldiers ought to do their duty Though their officer's away.

Mamma says my duty's doing Just what daddy said I should; But it's hard to do my lessons; And its harder to be good!

Teacher says, "Just keep on trying, They'll come easy by-an'-by;"

Mamma says I do grow better, And she'll write an' say I try.

Won't he smile! unless they've shot him!

Mamma said perhaps they would; An' she cried and cried till I cried-- But I don't believe they could.

No one couldn't hurt my daddy; If they did, when I grow tall, I shall take a sword and rifle, An' I'll go and kill them all.

If I woke up big to-morrow, Off to battle I should go; Then I'd see who'd touch my daddy-- Please, dear G.o.d, do make me grow!

_THE MILE._

BY DAVID M'KEE WRIGHT.

(_By kind permission of the Author._)

Sports day at the township; the station chaps mustered From Stewart's and "Flaxland" and Scott's of "Argyle;"

Good sport and good weather, and take things together The event that they talked most about was the mile.

Young Wilson from Flaxland could run like a greyhound, His times were a wonder with no stopwatch by; From Stewart's, Jack Barry could go like "Old Harry,"

And Scott's chaps had pinned all their faith on Mackay.

The township had three in, and each looked like winning.

The cunning boys smiled when you asked what they knew; I'd have sooner been resting than stripping and breasting The mark for the honour of old Waitahu.

But the chaps that were with me would take no denial-- I used to run once and could do it to-day; It was no use complaining I wasn't in training, I was hard from the hills and could show them the way.

So they said; but the other blokes smiled at my chances, Well they might when I hadn't run for a year; I heard someone mutter, "He's softer than b.u.t.ter-- He used to win once, but he won't finish here."

That made me feel foolish, I wished I'd been training, I felt if I had I could make someone spin, But still I was thinking, "I'll finish like winking; Though there isn't a ghost of a chance I can win!"

We all toed the line, but I wasn't excited, I fancied the race was all over for Dan; The slowest could do me--the pistol went through me, I jumped from the scratch, and the tussle began.

I'd a yard at the start, but I lost it next moment, My word, they went off at a terrible bat; I saw in a minute I wouldn't be in it If Wilson and Barry kept moving like that.

They went for a quarter, then Pearce, of the township, Ran up to the lead like a young cannon ball; I kept well behind them, I reckoned to find them About the three-quarters, or else not at all.

Second round the same order, Mackay creeping closer, And Pearce, of the township, dropped out at the bend; They kept the pace going, but Wilson was blowing, I didn't expect to see him at the end.

Third round, and, by George, I was closing upon them, My long steady swing was beginning to tell; Mackay took the running--he'd played pretty cunning-- I caught my first man at the three-quarter bell.

Then I let myself out and I tackled another, Pa.s.sed him quickly and got up to Wilson at last; There was nothing left in him that once looked like winning; He gave up the struggle the moment I pa.s.sed.

Jack Barry was next, and we got going level, I brought him along till we tackled Mackay; The whole ground was moving, our pace was improving, By Jove! at the finish the gra.s.s seemed to fly.

"Come on, Dan! come on! you can leave them both standing!"

"Jack Barry's the winner!" "Mackay leads the way!"-- The yelling and raving, the rushing and waving-- I'll always remember the finish that day.

We were going "eyes out," all three shoulder to shoulder, I gathered myself for the best I could do-- I heard my name crying, I took the tape flying For the honour and glory of old Waitahu!

_Other Volumes in this Series._

MANNERS FOR MEN MANNERS FOR WOMEN A WORD TO WOMEN HOW TO BE PRETTY WHAT SHALL I SAY?

THE BOOK OF St.i.tCHES HEALTH EXERCISES AND HOME GYMNASTICS THE APPLAUSE RECITER RECITATIONS THE GENTLE ART OF GOOD TALKING CONCERNING MARRIAGE ATHLETICS OF TO-DAY MANNERS FOR GIRLS BEAUTY ADORNED