What comfort would your waving plumes And brilliant dress bestow,

When you thought upon the widow's tears And her orphan's cry of woe!

WILLIAM.

I mean to be a president,
And rule each rising state,
And hold my levees once a week
For all the gay and great:
I'll be a king, except a crown,
For that they wont allow,
And I'll find out what the tariff is,
That puzzles me so now.

MOTHER,

My son! my son! the cares of state
Are thorns upon the breast,

That ever pierce the good man's heart,

And rob him of his rest.

The great and gay to him appear

As trifling as the dust,

For he knows how little they are worthHow faithless is their trust.

LOUISA.

I mean to be a cottage girl,
And sit behind a rill,

And morn and eve my pitcher there
With purest water fill;

And I'll train a lovely woodbine

Around my cottage door,

And welcome to my winter hearth
The wandering and the poor.

MOTHER.

Louisa, dear, a humble mind
'Tis beautiful to see,

And you shall never hear a word
To check that mind from me;
But ah! remember, pride may dwell
Beneath the woodbine shade;
And discontent, a sullen guest,
The cottage hearth invade.

CAROLINE.

I will be gay and courtly,

And dance away the hours;
Music, and sport, and joy shall dwell
Beneath my fairy bowers;
No heart shall ache with sadness
Within my laughing hall,
But the note of joy and gladness
Re-echo to my call.

MOTHER.

Oh, children! sad it makes my soul
To hear your playful strain ;
I cannot bear to chill your heart
With images of pain.

Yet humbly take what God bestows,
And like his own fair flowers,

Look up in sunshine with a smile,
And gently bend in showers.-Anon.

THE SICK CHAMBER.

IT has often been remarked, that in sickness, there is no hand like a woman's-hand, no heart like a woman's heart; and there is not. A man's breast may swell with unutterable sorrow, and apprehension may rend his mind; yet place him by the sick couch, and in the shadow rather than the light of the dim lamp that watches it; let him have to count over the long, dull hours of night, and wait, alone and sleepless, the struggle of the gray dawn into the chamber of suffering; let him be appointed to this ministry even for the sake of the brother of his heart, or the father of his being, and his grosser nature, even where it is most perfect, will tire; his eye will close, and his spirit grow impatient of the dreary task; and, though love and anxiety remain undiminished, his mind will own to itself a creeping in of irresistible selfishness, of which indeed he may be ashamed, and which he may struggle to reject, but which, despite all his efforts, remains to characterize his nature, and prove in one instance at least, his manly weakness.-But see a mother,

a sister, or a wife, in this place. The woman feels no weariness, and owns no recollection of self. In silence, and in the depth of night, she dwells, not only passively, but so far as the qualified term may express our meaning, joyously. Her ear acquires a blind man's instinct, as, from time to time it catches the slightest stir, or whisper, or breath of the now more than ever loved one who lies under the hand of human affliction. Her step, as in obedience to an impulse or a signal, would not waken a mouse; if she speaks, her accents are a soft echo of natural harmony, most delicious to the sick man's ear, conveying all that sound can convey of pity, comfort, and devotion and thus, night after night, she tends him like a creature sent from a higher world, when all earthly watchfulness has failed her eye never winking, her mind never palled, her nature, that at all times is weakness, has now gained a superhuman strength and magnanimity, herself forgotten, and her sex alone predominant.

Literary Gems.

THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE.

AN unrestrained volubility and wantonness of speech is the occasion of numberless evils and vexations in life, It begets resentment in him who is the subject of it; sows the seed of strife and dissension amongst others; and inflames little disgusts and offences, which, if let alone, would wear away of themselves; it is often of as bad effect upon the good name of others, as deep envy or malice and, to say the least of it in this respect, it destroys and perverts a certain equity of the utmost importance to society to be observed, namely, that praise and dispraise, a good or bad character, should always be bestowed according to desert. The tongue, used in such a licentious manner, is like a sword in the hand of a madman; it is employed at random; it can scarce possibly do any good, and, for the most part, does a world of mischief; and implies not only great folly and a trifling spirit, but great viciousness of mind, great indifference to truth and falsity, and to the reputation, welfare, and good of others.-Butler.

THE GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS.

NEVER recall the ideas of, or ruminate on, past injuries or provocations. This is the amusement of many in their solitary hours, and they might as well play with cannon balls or thunderbolts: they may work themselves up to distraction, to hate every thing and every body, and to have the temper and disposition of the destroyer himself. "Anger may glance into the bosom of a wise man, but remaineth only in the breast of fools." Make the most candid allowances for the offender; consider his natural temper; turn your anger into pity; regard him as ill of a bad distemper; think of the patience and meekness of Christ, and the petition in the Lord's prayer, how much you stand in need of forgiveness yourself from God Above all, be sure to set a guard upon your tongue when the angry mood is upon you.-Horne.

and man.

I WOULD I WERE A LITTLE BIRD.

I WOULD I were a little bird,
To fly so far and high,

And sail along the golden clouds,
And through the azure sky.
I'd be the first to see the sun
Up from the ocean spring;
And ere it touch'd the glittering spire,
His ray should gild my wing.

Above the hills I'd watch him still,
Far down the crimson west;
And sing to him my evening song,
Ere yet I sought my rest.
And many a land I then should see,
As hill and plain I cross'd:

Nor fear, through all the pathless sky,
That I should e'er be lost.

I'd fly where, round the olive boughs,
The vine its tendrils weaves;
And shelter, from the noonbeams seek,
Among the myrtle-leaves.

Now, if I climb our highest hill,
How little can I see!

Oh, if I had but wings, mamma,
How happy should I be !

Wings cannot soar above the sky,
As thou in thought canst do;
Nor can the veiling clouds confine
Thy mental eye's keen view.
Not to the sun dost thou chant forth
Thy simple evening hymn;

Thou praisest Him, before whose smile
The noonday's sun grows dim.

But thou may'st learn to trace the sun
Around the earth and sky;
And see him rising, setting still,
Where distant oceans lie.
To other lands the bird may fly,
His pinion cuts the air;

Ere yet he rests his wing, thou art,
In thought, before him there.

Though strong and free, his wing may droop,
Or bands restrain his flight;
Thought none may stay, more swift its speed
Than snowy beams of light.

A lovelier clime the bird may seek,
With summer go and come-
Beyond the earth awaits for thee,

A bright eternal home.-Juv. Miscellany.

FOLLIES OF FASHION.

IN no instances have the folly and childishness of a large portion of mankind been more strikingly displayed than in those various, and occasionally very opposite, modes in which they have departed from the standard of nature, and sought distinction even in deformity. Thus, while one race of people crushes the feet of its children, another flattens their heads between two boards; and while we, in Europe, admire the natural whiteness of the teeth, the Malays file off the enamel and dye them black, for the