I can't see that that's a reason

Why the scarlet I should wear.
Fustian coat and corded trowsers,
Seem to suit me quite as well;
'Think I don't look badly in 'em—
Ax my Meary-she can tell!

Sartinly I'd rather keep 'em

These same limbs you talk about—
Covered up in cord and fustian,
Than I'd try to do without;
There's Bill Muggins left our villa ge
Jest as sound a man as I ;
Now he goes about on crutches,
With a single arm and eye.

"Fun?" a knockin' fellow-creturs
Down like nine-pins, and that 'ere,
Sticking bag'nets through and through 'em,
Burnin', slaying, everywhere ;-
"Pleasant quarters ?" werry pleasant!
Sleepin' on the field o' battle,

Or, in hospital or barricks,

Crammed together jest like cattle.

Strut away, then, Master Sergeant;
Tell your lies as on you go;
Make your drummers rattle louder,
And your fifers harder blow;
I shan't be a "son o' glory,"

But an honest workin' man;

With the strength that God has guv me,
Doin' all the good I can.

WILLIAM PENN AND KING CHARLES. WHAT a pleasing contrast to the wicked custom of going with armies to rob men of their lands does the conduct of William Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania afford. Mr. Jacob Post tells us that previously to embarking, Penn went to take leave of King Charles, when the following dialogue took place :King." What! venture yourself among the savages of North America! Why, man, what security have you that you will not be in their war-kettle in two hours after setting your foot on their shores? I have no idea of any security against these cannibals but in a regiment of soldiers with their muskets and their bayonets; but, mind you, I will not send a single soldier with you."

Penn.-"I want none of thy soldiers; I depend on something better than soldiers. I depend on the Indians themselves, on their moral sense, even on the grace of God, which bringeth salvation, and hath appeared to all men."

King" If it had appeared to them, they would hardly have treated my subjects so barbarously as they have done."

Penn.-"That is no proof to the contrary; thy subjects were the aggressors. When they first went

to North America, they found these poor people the kindest and fondest creatures in the world. Every day they would watch for them to come on shore, and hasten to meet them, and feast them on their best fish, their venison, and their corn, which were all they had. In return for this hospitality of the savages, as we term them, thy christian subjects, as we term them, seized on their country and rich hunting grounds for farms for themselves. Now, is it to be much wondered at, that these much-injured people, driven to desperation by such injustice, should have committed some excesses?"

King,-"But how will you get their lands without soldiers?"

Penn.-"I mean to buy their lands."

King. "Why, man! you have bought them of me already!"

Penn.-"Yes, I know I have, and at a dear rate too; I did this to gain thy good-will, not that I thought thou hadst any right to their lands. I will buy the right of the proper owners, even of the Indians themselves; by doing this, I shall imitate God in his justice and mercy, and hope thereby to insure his blessing on my colony, if I should ever live to plant one in North America."

And God did bless his colony.

YOUR MOTHER.-TO GIRLS.

You all know the divine command "Honour thy

father and thy mother." An undutiful child is an odious character, yet but few young people show the respect and obedience to their parents that is becoming and beautiful. Did you ever sit and recount the days and nights of care, toil, and anxiety you cost your mother?

Did you

Did you ever try to measure the love that sustained your infancy and guided your youth? ever think about how much more you owe your mother than you will be able to repay? If so, did you ever vex or disobey her? If you did, it is a sin of no common magnitude, and a shame which should make you burn every time you think of it. It is a sin that is sure to bring its reward in this world. I never knew an undutiful daughter make a happy wife or mother. The feeling that prompts any one to be unkind to a mother will make her who

indulges it wretched for life. If you should lose your mother, you little dream how the memory of every unkind look or undutiful word, every neglect of her wishes, will haunt you. I could never tell you how I sometimes feel in remembering instances of neglect to my mother, and yet, thanks to her care, I had the name of being a good child. She told me shortly before she died that I had never vexed her by any act of disobedience, and I would not resign the memory of her approbation for the plaudits of a world, even though I knew it was her love that hid the faults, and magnified all that was good. I know how many things I might have done to add to her happiness and repay her care, that I did not do; but the grave has cut off all opportunity to rectify mistakes or atone for neglects. Never, never lay up for yourself the memory of an unkindness to your mother. If she is afflicted, how can you possibly get tired of waiting upon her? How can you trust any one else to take your place about her? No one could have filled her place to your peevish infancy and troublesome childhood. When she is in her usual health, remember she is not so young and active as she once was. Wait upon her. If she wants anything, bring it to her, not because she could not get it herself, but to show that you are