Sfo familij ®iwk
THE CHILD AND THE WHITE BOSE.
“White Rose, talk to me!
I don’t know wlint to do,.
Why do you say no word to me,
Who say so much to you ?
“ I’m bringing you a little rain,
And I shall be so proud,
If, when you feel it on your face,
You take me for a cloud.
“ Here I come so softly,
You cannot hear me walking;
If I take you by surprise,
I may catch you talking.
“ Tell all your thoughts to me,
Whisper in my ear;
Talk against the winter,
He shall never hear.
“ I can keep'a secret
Since I was five years old;
Tell if you were frightened
When first you felt the cold;
“And in the splendid summer,
While you flush and glow,
Are you ever out of heart,
Thinking of the snow?”
HOW DAFFY TOOK CARE OF DIX.
“ I’m ready to go now, Daffy,” said her
mother, as Daffy came into the neat kitchen.
Daffy’s mother was going out to work all
the morning.
“But, mother, I haven’t even read my
chapter,” said Daffy.
“ Very well,” said her mother, coldly; “ it’s
your own fault, then, for you have had plenty
of time. You must think of some, verse that
you know, till I come back; for it will never
do to leave Dix long enough to read a whole
chapter.”
Dix was Daffy’s little brother,
name was Dixmont
“Here are some paper and scissors for Dix,”
said Mrs. Downs, stooping to kiss the child.
“ Dix, be a good boy till mamma' comes back,
will he?”
“Dits will,” said the child; and Mrs.
Downs went away.
And Daffy sat looking out of the window,
trying, to think of a verse that she knew, as
her mother had told her. “Ah, I have it! ”
she said to herself, at last: “Suffer little
children to come unto me, and forbid them
not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven,”
And what was it that mother said about it ?
Oh, I remember. If Jesus loved little child
ren so much, then those who wish to follow
Him, must be kind to them for His sake;
and of such little children as Dix are the
kingdom of —0 dear! where is Dix?”
Daffy started up, for it had suddenly grown
very quiet in the room; and quietness where
Dix was, or had been, was always a forerun
ner of mischief. ■ v
“Dix, where are you?” cried Daffy.
Ho answer from Dix, hut an ominous snip
ping in the next room.
Daffy had dashed into the room in a mo
ment, but it was too late. Snip, snip, went
the scissors, and a large piece was cut out of
Mrs. Down’s best white counterpane.
“Dixmowf/” cried Daffy, “aren’t you
ashamed? Come away this minute. What
will mother say?’’
Dix began to cry. Poor Dix, how much
was he to blame?
“How, Dix,” said Daffy, putting him down
on the floor, with a little shake, “you must
sit right there, and cut that paper, and don’t
you dare move a step."
But Dix only cried harder than ever.
“Dear, dear,” said Daffy, rummaging in the
closet, “what a funny thing this is!—all tin,
and glass, and —O, there’s a knock at the
door!’’
“Sit perfectly still, Dix, till I come back,”
said Daffy, as she ran away to the door.
But Dix got very tired of sitting perfectly
still; for, you must know that it was Daffy’s
most intimate friend that had knocked, and
Daffy had a great deal to say to her. So
Dix jumped up, and patter, patter, went his
little feet over the kitchen floor to the closet.
“Oh, oh,” he cried, seating himself on the
closet floor, “ buska, buskal” How, buska
meant —in Dix’s vocabulary — basket, and
this particular basket was full of eggs. But
Dix didn’t know that eggs were thirty
cents a dozen, and if pounding them —to
which treatment Dix never failed to subject
any thing with which he came in contact —
would break them, so much the better and
—“0, O!” cried Dix again. This time it
was the “funny thing all tin, and glass,”
that Daffy had referred to, which took the
fancy of Dix—viz: a molasses pitcher, on a
lower shelf. And into this pitcher —partly
full of molasses—it was his next care to
put as many of the .eggs, as by dint of push
ing, squeezing, and breaking, he could get
in.
But in the midst of his energetic smashing
of egg-shells, Daily returned.
Now, of course, it was all the fault of poor
Dix,' that he had not remained sitting per
fectly still on the floor, and the consequence
was, that his face and hands received a very
rough washing from Miss Daffy, and his ears
were saluted with occasional slight repri
mands, from the same source, such "as, “0
naughty, naughty Dix.” “ Mother will pun
ish Dix." But it could not have been Daffy’s
fault at all, could it?
Poor Dix had such dreadful qualms of
conscience, I suppose, at Daffy’s solemn way
of putting it, that he crept off humbly into
a corner, and put his thumb in his mouth—
the only solace he could think of tinder the
circumstances.
But it occurred to Daffy, after awhile,
that she was not very much like the good
little Janes and Elizas, that figure in Sab
bath School books, and she accordingly set
herself vigorously to the task of amusing
her little brother.
Dix being in a very subdued state, was
easily amused; and Daffy flattered herself
that she was being remarkably amiable, as
the clock ticked away and carried the hands
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 1867-
round to eleven. And now it was time to
make the fire for dinner, and fill the kettles,
and for this latter purpose Daffy took a small
tin pail in one hand, and the willing hand
of Dix in the other, and proceeded to the
spring.
This spring trickled into a hogshead sunk
into the ground; and into this hogshead it
was the delight of Master Dix to gaze; for,
you must know, he saw a little boy in the
bottom, a pretty little boy, with bright eyes
and hair, and red cheeks, looking right up
at him. Dix thought it must be rare sport
to live in the bottom of a hogshead of clear
water, and look up at all the little boys and
girls that came there.
And to-day, Dix had plenty of time to
gaze, for Daffy saw a butterfly, and imme
diately put down her tin pail, and ran after
it. Daffy was always chasing butterflies,
either real or imaginary. So Dix, having
nothing else to do, threw himself flat on the
ground, and smiled down at the little boy;
the little boy smiled up at him, and they
were having a very entertaining time, when
suddenly Daffy heard a loud outcry, and
turned quickly around, just in time to see a
little figure plunge head first into the hogs
head.
Daffy left her butterfly then, and ran back
to the hogshead, screaming all the way. The
neighbors could not fail to hear, and Dix
was soon seized by the feet, drawn up from
the hogshead, and carried in safety to his
mother’s house.
And many a weary day did little Dix lie
in pain after that fall, and faster and faster
went the money of poor Mrs. Downs, and
many were Daffy’s breakfasts, dinners, and
suppers of potatoes, and only potatoes, at
which she sometimes grumbled, but her mo
ther always said, “Hot a word, Daffy; this
was all Owing to you, and you should bear
your, part of the trouble in which we are
involved without a.murmur.”
“What a thoughtless child!” cried Sue
Sleepy-eyes. But she did not seem to know
that she was just as thoughtless herself, only
not in precisely the same ways. I hope none
of my readers will make a similar mistake,
when they condemn poor, thoughtless Daffy.
—Student and Schoolmate.
His whole
THE CRUSADE OF THE CHILDREN.
Besides the crusades undertaken by knights
and their followers, there was another, of
which little has been written, and yetit was
a strange and interesting proceeding. The
zeal which inspired men to bind the blood
red cross to their shoulders, incited, also,
more youthful spirits, and, year
1212, the Crusade of Children took place.
Girls, as well as boys, engaged in it, and it
is said that nearly ninety thousand children
started for the Holy Land.
They formed two bands. One went from
Germany; the other from France.
In Germany, the children were aroused
to this expedition by a certain native of that
country—either a heartless deceiver, or a
fanatic—who bore the name of Nicholas.
The ignorant young folks Avere persuaded to
credit the prediction that a drought Avas at
hand, so fearful, that it would cause the
Mediterranean Sea to become dry. And the
boys and girls, breaking loose from their
guardians, and school-masters, set off for
Genoa, in the fond hope of marching to Je
rusalem across the arid bed of that vast in
land sea. The wiser among their parents
and friends strove to withhold them from
so foolish and perilous an enterprise, but ex
postulation was lost upon these, frenzied
. youths. Some were put into close confine
ment; but they burst open doors, broke pas
sages through walls, and managed to join
their fellow-pilgrims. The poor little ad
venturers were destitute, of guides, provis
ions, and money; but, when asked-what
they proposed to do—they answered with
assurance, “ To- visit the Holy Places,” and
with hopeful hearts they started upon the
romantic pilgrimage. The pope of Home,
at this time the powerful and energetic In
nocent 111., was.told.ofi all this, and, in reply,
uttered a groan, and. cried, “ These children
reproach us with being buried- in sleep,
while they are flying to the defence of the
Holy Land.” Such was the superstition of
the age, that many grown people believed
these boys, and girls fulfilling the Avill of
Heaven, and some followed their confused
and needy ranks, Avhile others gladly be
stowed upon them food and money. The
host of enthusiastic young crusaders quitted
Germany, traversed Saxony, wended their
Ayay over the Alps, and at last reached Italy.
But one calamity after another had befallen
them on their long journey through these
picturesque lands. -Thieves had entered their
bands, and robbed them of baggage and
gifts, which they had received as pilgrims.
Disease, the long Aveary march, heat, and
lack of proper food, had greatly lessened
their numbers. Now a part were ruthlessly
seized and made slaves, but seven thousand
presented themselves before Genoa. The
senate gave them leave to rest for six or seven
days within the walls of the city; but, after
ward, repenting of this kindness, partly from
fear that their multitude would cause a
famine, ordered them to go elsewhere. It
has been believed, however, that some young
Germans, of noble birth, were allowed to
remain as citizens of Genoa, and that they
became founders of distinguished families.
The other pilgrims, finding the blue waves
of the Mediterranean rolling as of old, and
despairing of seeing City, turned
their faces homeward. And the way which
. they had trodden in lively troops, cheering
each other with joyous songs, one by one,
they mournfully retraced, with naked feet,
suffering from hunger, and the heartless
gibes of those-whom they met on .their te
dious'journey. Such was the fate of the
German boy and girl crusaders.
Nor were the young French pilgrims more
fortunate. They gathered together near
Paris; and, passing through Burgundy, ar
rived in safety at Marseilles. Here, two
merchants, Hugh Ferrers, and William Por
ous, proclaimed that, from the piety of their
hearts, they were willing to give all pilgrims
to the Holy Land a free-passage across the
sea. The youthful crusaders gladly accepted
the apparently generous offer, and, in seven
vessels, embarked from Marseilles. They
had been but two days at sea, and were near
the island called St. Peter, when a terrific
storm burst upon them, and the angry waters
swallowed two of the ships with all their
passengers. Some years afterward, at the
command of Gregory IX-, a church was
erected upon this island, in memory of the
young crusaders who perished here at this
time; and, formerly, the spot could be
pointed out where the bodies, which were
washed on shore, were buried. The other
voyagers escaped the waves, and landed,
some at Bugia, the picturesque sea-port of
Algeria; others, at Alexandria in Egypt.
At these places, the zealous crusaders learned
the value of the kindness of the Marseilles
merchants, for Hugh Ferrers and William
Porcus were engaged in the business of sell
young hoys to the Saracens, and all these
helpless youths were now sold as slaves;
some to the Saracens, others to slave-mer
chants. A number of them who refused to
embrace Islainism, died as Christian mar
tyrs.
There were some who entered upon the
ill-starred expedition of the Children’s Cru
sade, and yet escaped its varied perils. It
seems hard that they were not allowed to
remain peacefully in Europe. The pope re
quired them, with the exception of those
who were deemed physically unfit for the
march, to fulfil the vow wfiich they had
made, by fastening the cross upon their gar
ments, and they were obliged, later in life,
to start again for Jerusalem, or to buy their
freedom from the pilgrimage by alms.
Thus ended the Children’s Crusade of the
thirteenth century. In the nineteenth, let
us hope that our young people better under
stand the object for which they should gird
themselves for battle, and the means of vic
tory.—lbid.
FOEGITE US AS WE FOBGIVE.
An incident, related in one of the Hew
York daily prayer meetings, and which bears
upon this subject, may be of interest and
benefit to some. An old man told of a revi
val in which lie had been an active partici
pant, and through the means of which a lady
of influence was brought under conviction.
Might after night she was found at the altar,
yet failed to find peace; the most earnest
prayers and faithful exhortations seemed of
no avail. At the close of the services on
one occasion she seemed almost despairing,
and when the congregation retired, she was
left still kneeling at the altar rails. A few
of the older brethren and sisters, in response
to her passionate entreaties not to leave her
to perish, remained. They prayed and talk
ed with her for some time, till finally one asked
her to pray aloud. She pleaded inability.
He commenced the Lord’s Prayer, requiring
her to repeat it after him. When he came
to'the petition, “Forgive us,” etc., she stop
ped. He repeated it, when she cried out,
“ I cannot—O, I cannot say that!” He arose
from his knees and told her she might as
well go home, for she had no right to expect
fdrgivifneits of God while she withheld it
from a fellow-creature. After some time
being spent in expostulation, pleading and
weeping, she was enabled by divine grace to
make the sacrifice, and went home rejoicing
in the smiles of a reconciled God. At the
time of the recital of the incident, she had
been living an exemplary, useful and devot
ed Christian life for some twenty years. —
Zion’s Herald.
POOE PEOPLE AND. POOE MONEY.
In a sermon on the disadvantages of being
poor, preached by Henry Ward Beecher,
occurred the following:—“ln all the troubles
and mischief that arise from false weights
and spurious currency, it is usually the poor
that suffer the most. Here is a spurious
quarter of a dollar. The merchant, in whose
hands if chances to be, thoughtlessly, of
course, (for merchants are always honest !)
passes it to the trader, and he seeing thatit
does not look quite right, but not thinking
it worth while to scrutinize it too closely,
passes it to the grocer; and he, glanciDg at
it, and not liking the looks of it, but not wish
ing to be overparticular, and saying, ‘I took
it and must get rid of it,’ passes it to the
market-man, he, saying, ‘itmight as well be
kept travelling,’passed it, as he was 70111’-
■neying, to the conductor, and he knowing
that it is not good, but disliking to say any'
thing to the man, says to himself, ‘I will
keep it and give it to somebody else,’ and
passes it to a sewing woman. She is poor,
and a person that is poor is always watched;
and when she offers it, it is discovered to
be spurious and is refused! ‘lt is nearly
my whole day’s wages, but it is counterfeit,
and of course I must not pass it;’ and she
burns it up, and so is the only honest one
among them all. Bad bills, spurious cur
rency, almost always settle on the poor at
last.”
THEY SHALL COME PEOM THE EAST AND
PEOM THE WEST.
Col. Steiner, of Frederick, Md., made a
speech at the S. S. Convention of that State,
in which he said: “Travelling out West, a
few years since, I met a friend who had just
been journeying through California. He
was out one evening upon an extended plain,
well suited for grazing. He thought he
heard strains of sweet and soft music, and
looked far as the eye could reach, but saw
nothing. As he passed on, it came stronger,
sweeter upon his ear. He recognized a hu
man voice. Ascending a little rise in the
plain, just beyond, he saw a child sitting,
watching sheep, and singing, “ I want to be
an angel.” “What are you doing, my
child ?” he asked. “ I am keeping Sunday
school, sir,” was the reply. He thought, he
saw there the mustard seed gro'svm into : a
thrifty twig. Again, this summer, I met a
friend who had travelled in the East, who
told him that in a little Arab village, not iai
from the ruins of Nineveh, he was startled
by hearing an Arab child humming one ol
the familiar American Sunday-school tunes.
That, he thought, was a leaf of the naustard
tree. Yet again, two springs since, he saw
gathering in one of the largest buddings in
Paris, the Imperial Circus, some 5000 little
French children, Protestant babes, singing
the stirring tunes of the Sabbath-school,
that have found their way into almost every
corner of the earth. Here was a noble
branch of the Sunday-school tree, sprung
from such an humble planting, and yet so
blessed by the showers and suns of heaven
as to bring forth that which we now see and
hear.”
SATED BY A KITTEN.
There is a thrilling story told of a eahin
boy and his kitten, that illustrates in a mark
ed degree the providence of God that often,
by the most trifling incident, saves the life
of an individual. It was in his first voyage,
and all the more thrilling to him. When the
vessel stood out from Boston, young Jack
thought there was never any thing finer than
to be at sea in a noble ship. For days and
days, the strong wind and heaving ocean
bore them safely and swiftly toward their
destined haven. But when off the coast of
Africa near the Azore Islands, the ship en
countered a heavy gale. Had the ship been
in mid ocean, she would have been fearfully
driven and tossed by the raging elements,
yet no doubt would have been saved. As it
was, however, it seemed impossible to avoid
the land. It was impossible also, to steer
safely into any quiet harbor, for no harbor
was at hand, and so after all efforts proved
unavailing, she struck upon the grim rocks
that studded the “lee shore,” as the sailors
call it. “ Cut away the boats! ” shouted the
captain. Every man was glad to obey the
order, for the fury of the waves was fast
breaking up the vessel. Jack was only a
small boy, but he worked away nimbly, do
ing what he could. The crew consisted of
twenty-four men, and there were three boats
on board; one of these, the largest, called
the long boat; the other two taking the
name of “jolly boats.” Though the last
named were somewhat smaller, yet they
were calculated to live in as heavy a sea as
the “long boat.” One of the “jolly boats”
had been lowered, and Jack was about jump r
ing in, in haste with many others, when,
strange as it may seem, he happened to
think of his little kitten, that had been his
pet all the way out from home.
“How,” said Jack, to himself, “I must
take Mollie with me; it would be very cruel
to let her drown.” So across the deck he
hastened, and descended the hold into the
cabin, where poor Hollie lay huddled up in
a corner. He soon had her in his arms, and
was on deck; but the boat in which he
thought to have gone was separated from
the vessel, while, at the same time, he obser
ved that the second small boat was manned.
Well, in less time than, it takes me to write
this, all were off the ship; of course Jack
was among the last in the long boat. The
sea arose to a fearful height, and soon there
was. nothing to be seen of the ship, but a
few floating spars. It was found to be very
difficult to keep the boats from swamping,
yet in the hands of skilful seamen, all went
well. Darkness soon enveloped these little
crafts in the folds of night. It was impossi
ble for them to keep longer together. It was
a fearful crisis: all that could be done was
to give themselves lip to the mercy of the
winds. Once the captain, who was with Jack,
ordered them to try the oars, hoping that
they might make land, but it nearly cap
sized them, so it was abandoned. At length
morning came, but Jack with his keen eyes
could see nothing of the other boats. Where
could they be? Through the whole succeed
ing day and the following night, they were
tossed about by the heavy swells of the
ocean, and did not make land till the morn
ing of the third day. Where were the.other
boats ? you ask. Alas, they capsized anS all
perished that were on board. Little Jack
knew that if he had not gone back after
kitty, he would have shared their fate. He
was then wayward and thoughtless, but now,
through the grace of God, he thanks the
Lord Jesus for the deliverance. —Boston Re
corder.
LUTHEE THE SINGEE.
I believe that there must be more mean
ing in the simplest word of our Saviour than
we have yet found out—probably than we
shall ever find out. But some of his sayings
we may be allowed, I think, to judge more
profound than others. Among those which
seem to me deepest in significance is the say
ing, “Blessed be ye poor; for yours is the
kingdom of God,” which surely implies that
their poverty has something to do with their
blessedness. At all events, it would be easy
to show some of the truest advantages as
springing from a lowly birth,.like that of
our Lord, like that of Luther.
Had not Luther been born in poor estate,
he could not have written with such simple
realism about the ox and the ass, the manger
and the hay. He sings just like a cottao-e
-ehild rejoicing over his baby-brother. If he
had not-been of lowly birth, he would not
have exulted in such simple outbursts of na
ture. An artificial education tends to a vul
garity of mind, revealing itself in the dis
covery of vulgarity where it does not exist.
Wherever you see strong expressions of
disgust, you may most probably detect a vul
gar mind, and you have reason to doubt,
besides, whether the disgust exists anywhere
but in the mind that disgustedly expresses
it. One of the severest tests to which breed
ing, as we call it, could be put, would be the
sudden reduction to poverty from the enjoy
ment of all the means and appliances of
wealth, bringing humiliation to the man who
cannot accept them as the will of God.
Then should we see how far the breeding
lay in the pride of appliance, or in the sim
ple condition of the soul. And that beha
viour which comes nearest to God's feeling
when he made man, and when he made hi,
Son the son of a pooi*woman, will be tl.,
heaven-acknowledged tyjxr of true bob a
viour of right and dignified and graceful
manners. Again, Isay, was P anl - V >n
virtue of his lowly birth that Luther ca m , }
so close in heart and feeling to the birth «
the child Jesus. Only let no poor man think
to exclude the rich thereby; for the man
who is poor in spirit is the man who reap,
the benefit of poverty, whether he be a beg.
gar or a millionaire.
The straightforward fulness of these hymn
stands in strong contrast both to the arti
ficiality of most religious compositions of th
same age in England, and to the inanity of a
trreat proportion of the hymns of the pro
sent day. This one seems to be, for all time,
as modern now as it was when he wrote it,
expressing the heart of the eternal rclatioii
between man and God: —
CHRIST-SONG.
From heaven the angel-troop came near,
And to the shepherds did appear.
A tender little child, they cry,
In a rough manger lies hard by.
In Bethlehem, Bavid’s town of old,
As prophet Micah has foretold;
Our Master, Jesus Christ, it is,
Who brings you all his saving bliss.
And ye may well break out in mirth,
For God is one with you henceforth;
His Son is born your flesh and blood;
Tour brother is the eternal God.
lie will not, cannot leave you. The nee
Set you in him your confidence;
Whatever foes stand in the road,
Defy them in the name of God.
To you what can do death or sin ?
The true God is to you come in.
Let hell and Satan raging go—
The Son of God’s your comrade now,
All safe at last your lives ye find.
For you are how of God’s own kind.
For this thank God, now and alway,
Patient and happy every day. Amen.
—Sunday Xagazim.
SOCIAL THEOBISTS AND OHBISTIANITI.
Social theorists, who overlook the power
of Christianity, are likely to fall into impor
tant errors. Dr. Draper thinks that every
nation must grow old and die, like the indi
vidual, and that the leading Christian nations
of the world must soon experience the fate
of China. But he forgets that the church
of Christ has in it a preserving power to
arrest the process of decay. The Quiver
says:
“ That little society of which we read in
the third and fourth' chapters of the Acts oi
the Apostles, was the pledge of the world s
civilization. Look at its mutual love, its
world-wide sympathies. It could not but
progress in intellectual as in moral develop
ment. Here was the mighty power, rising
up, growing, expanding, which met the
advancing tides of Eastern and Nor the?
barbarism, overcame their force, and coi.
verted them into modern civilization. Here
.is what gave rise to our great cities and om
mighty works. Here is what, if adhered to.
■ will keep those cities from the fate of Tyre
and. Carthage, of Nineveh and Babylon.
Here is what, if? held fast to, will prevent
the fulfilment of Macaulay’s famous predic
tion of the fate of London. If she preserves
her Christianity, and honors Efer Lord and
her God, the New Zealander of a future day
will never gaze with mournful interest from
the broken archway of the Thames upoi.
the rains of great London. He will never
see the willows waving, or the rushes grow
ing, where now rise her storehouses and her
palaces; or the wild water-bird floating it.
undisturbed security upon that miglity
stream which now carries the navies and tin
commerce of the world. Eor Christianity,
with its expansive growth, possesses also tin
attribute of unfading youth. A thousand
years in its history are but a day. There i
no wrinkle on its brow, no stain on it.-
crown of glory.
Power or an Axe. —The other day I wa
holding a man by the hand—a hand as firn.
in its outer texture as leather, and his sun
burnt face was as inflexible as parchment
he was pouting forth a tirade of contemp'
on those who complain that they get notliin :
to do, as an excuse for idleness. Said 1
“Jeff, what do you work at?” “Why,” sal.
he,-“ I bought me an axe three years ago tluf
cost me two dollars. That was all the mono;.
I had. I went to chopping wood by the core
I have done nothing else, and have earner
more than six hundred dollars; drank n
g ro gi paid no doctor, and have bought me ■■
little farm in the Hoosier State, and shall !>■
married next week to a girl who has earnc
two hundred dollars since she was eighteen-
My old axe I shall keep in the drawer, am
buy me a new one to cut my wood with.
After I left him, I thought to myself, “tin'
axe and no grog.” These are the two thing
that make a man in the world. How sma
a capital that axe—how sure of success witu
the motto “Ho grog.” And then a farm, am
a wife, the best of all.
WHY WILLIE WAHTS THE OUETAIHS TJ7
Com wind, cold wind,
You may rumble shrilly;
Snug and happy in his bed,
Lies our little Willie.
Round moon, round moon,.
On the snow you glisten;
You may hear our Willie laugh,
If you will but listen.
Bright stars, bright stars,
How the snow has drifted I
Mother, let the curtain stay:
Let me have it lifted;
Bor I like to seethe stars,
If awake Fm keeping,
And tohave the stars see me,
If l am a-sleeping.