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"How many are you then,'' said I,
"But they are dead; those two are dead!
ANECDOTE for FATHERS,
Shelving how the practice of Lying may be taught
I have a boy of live years old,
'One morn we stroll'd on our dry walk,
My thoughts on former pleasures ran-;
A day it was when I could bear
My boy was by my side, so slim .
The young lambs ran a pretty race;
"My little boy, which'like you more,"
"And tell me, had you rather be,"
I said and held him by the arm,
"At Kilve's-smooth shore by the green sea,
"Or here at Liswyn farm?
In careless mood he looked at me,
"Now, little Edward, say why so;
"For, here are woods and green hills warm:
At this, my boy hung down his head,
His head he raised—there was in sight,.
Then did the boy his tongue unlock,