Once _earned_ their pay, and got the name
Of fine, brave lads! But you!--for shame!
Boys, I could thrash you all, I fear!

It may be, times will change, this year--
Your friends all tire of you, I know,
And what, if they should let you go!
The school, through you, has such a name
All good men feel a kind of shame;
They feel the world must laugh, at last--
The world that could not scorn the past!

Oh, think of that, my lads! I see
You do not mean to turn from me.
From _me_, your best of friends? Oh, no!
I may seem grave, and dull, and slow.
But you and I, my lads, are one!
Your fame, your blame, I can not shun.
Much have I borne for you, of late;
But you are small, and I am great!

* * * * *

A Reflection for Recorder Hackett.

The GRAHAM bread bakers are useful members of the community, but the
same can not be said of GRAHAM bred lawyers.

* * * * *