CONTENTS Page The Grasshopper Cowley : : Mrs. Barb.:ud : . AROUND the fire one wintry night When, hark! a gentle hand they hear « Cold The Beggar Man. of Cold blows the blast across the moor, The fleet drives hifling in the wind; Yon toilsome mountain lies before, A dreary treeless waste behind. “ My eyes are weak and dim with age, “So faint I am these tottering feet “ Open your hospitable door, With hafty step the farmer ran, |