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THE COMPACT.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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38

THE COMPACT.

It was a little boy who lived in Philadelphia town,
And a very kind old gentleman, whose name was Mr. Brown.
It happened that the self-same day they visited the Fair,
And, hand in hand, they walked about, a happy, friendly pair.
The little boy looked right and left with eager, wondering eyes,
The other gazed more steadily, for he was old and wise;
But soon he caught the small boy's way of feeling glad and bright;
And the boy no longer aimlessly looked to the left and right.

39

“I like you, Mr. Brown,” he said. “You make me understand.”
“I like you, too,” thought Mr. Brown, and pressed the little hand.
And so they walked together, and saw the mighty show,
While music, light, and brilliant hues set all the crowd aglow.
Then, suddenly, a shadow fell upon the old man's face;
He fixed his eyes right wistfully upon the wondrous place.
“Ah, me! ah, me!” he muttered, as to himself, nor smiled
At the merry look of questioning that came upon the child.
“My boy, a hundred years from now, another mighty Fair
Will crown the new Centennial; but we shall not be there.

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Not one of all this eager crowd” (and here he drew a sigh)
“Will be living on the earth that day—not even you and I.
“The years will bring discoveries, inventions, manners new,
And nations yet unborn may shame the things that here we view.
I own I 'd like to see it all, the next Centennial Fair,
With the Stars and Stripes that day, as now, flung gayly to the air.
“I 'd like to see the world grown wiser, better, too, my lad
(Though I'm not one of those who think this world is wholly bad).
I 'd like to see the country shine with nobler, holier grace,
And the Church of Christ triumphant in the manners of a race.

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“It 's useless to regret, I know; our life is but a span.
We'll all be gone before that day; yes, all, my little man.”
Then Brown, he wiped his spectacles, and gave a quiet cough;
But the little boy said: “Never mind, it 's such a long way off.”
“Yes, long for you, perhaps, my boy; but my life 's nearly spent.
Yet, if I knew just how the world would grow, I 'd be content.”
The little boy stopped short, with: “Here are benches, let 's sit down.
I'll tell you what I'll do for you, with pleasure, Mr. Brown.
“When I get big, I'll notice sharp just what the people do,
And how they live, how good they are—I'll watch them just for you.

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And then I'll tell some little boy (not born yet) he must keep
A sharp lookout, and, don't you see? in time he'll learn a heap.
“Well, when I'm old, I'll say to him what you have said to-day:
‘My boy, my time is nearly spent; I'll soon be going away;
I can't see the Centennial that 's coming soon, I know;
But you will see it, certainly, before you have to go.
“‘Now, I'm going,’ I'll say, ‘to Heaven; and when you come there, too,
You can tell me all about the show, and what you saw there new,
And how the people looked and did in Philadelphia town,
For I want to tell a friend of mine up there, named Mr. Brown.’”

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He ceased. The old man stared, then smiled and stroked the sunny head.
“Thank you, my boy, I'll count on you.” And that was all they said.
Then, quite content and glad again, the mighty show they scanned,—
The old man and the little boy,—still walking hand in hand.