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THE PLOUGHMAN.

THERE is the Ploughman; ploughing up his fields ready to cast in the corn; the harrow will then pass over it, and another crop may be expected in due season.

Only a few weeks ago the corn was standing thick over those fields, bowing its yellow ears to the wind, ripe and ready for the sickle. The reaper entered the ranks, cut down and gathered in the golden stores, and now the plough again enters the soil and prepares it for another crop.

Thus labour treads on the heels of labour -all things are full of labour-nothing great can be done in this world without labour-so

Work away while you're able,
Work away, work away

And to speed with your labour,
Make the most of to-day;
What may hinder you to-morrow,

'Tis impossible to say.

Work away while you're able,
Work away, work away!