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No, You Can’t.
Let me into the breakfast room, Bridget,
I’ll be a good girl if you will ;
And see if I can’t be a lady,
And see if I don’t sit still.
You wash me and curl mo and dress me,
Yet say that I do not look fit,
You think that I’ll tease for the sugar;
I won’t do it—hardly a bit.
I won’t put nay foot on the table,
Nor make the least atom of fuss ;
I won’t drum at all with my teaspoon,
I won’t pull the cloth in a muss.
Papa, if he only had seen me,
I know would have said “ Let her stay
But just as I pushed the door open,
You came there and snatched me away.
Don’t say “ No, you can’t,” and then kiss me—
You’re not half so kind as you seem.
I don’t want to stay with you, Bridget;
0 dear! I’m afraid I shall scream !
I wonder if folks that are grown up,
And thinking to have what they want,
Arc patient when doors are shut on them,
And good when they’re told, “No, you can’t.”
Mrs. A. M. Wells.
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH.
E APT AIN JOHN SMITH
was a man of rare gen
ius and enterprise, and
to him, even more than
di, the ultimate establish
the English colony in
is due. Even in those
wild adventure, Smith’s
career nad been such.’ as distin
guished him above all his fellow-colonists
in Yirginia. When almost a boy ho had
fought under Leicester, in the Dutch
campaign. His mind, as he tells us, “be
ing set upon brave adventures,” ho had
roamed over France, Italy and Egypt,
doing a little piracy, as it would now be
called, in the Levant. Coming to Hun
gary, he took service for the war with
the Turks, against whom he devised
many “ excellent stratagems,” and per
formed prodigies of valor in various sin
gle combats with Turkish champions,
slaying the “Lord Turbashaw,” also one
Lrualgo, the vowed friend of Turbashaw,
&s well as “ Bonny Mulgro,” who tried to
BURKE’S WEEKLY.
avenge the death of the other two. After
numerous adventures, a general engage
ment took place, and Captain Smith was
left for dead upon the field of battle;
here he was made prisoner, and sold into
slavery at Constantinople. Being re
garded with too much favor by his “ fair
mistress,” who “ took much compassion
on him,” he was sent into the Crimea,
where he was “ no more regarded than a
beast.” Driven to madness by this usage,
he killed his taskmaster, the Tymor,
whose clothes he put on, and whose horse
he appropriated, and thus succeeded in
escaping across the steppes, and after
overcoming many perils, he at last reach
ed a Christian land. “ Being thus satis
fied with Europe and Asia,” and hearing
of the “ warresin Barbarie,” he forthwith
proceeded to the interior of Morocco, in
search of new adventures. We next hear
of him “trying some conclusions at sea ”
with the Spaniards ; and, at last, at thirty
years of age, he found himself in Virginia,
at a time when a great portion of the
hundred colonists had perished, and the
survivors were meditating the abandon
ing of what seemed a hopeless enterprise.
Before long, Smith’s force of character
placed him at the head of affairs, Avhich
soon began to improve under the influ
ence of his resolute and hopeful genius.
But the position of responsibility in which
he was placed could not put a stop to the
execution of his adventurous projects. In
an open boat he made a coasting voyage
of some three thousand miles, in the
course of which lie discovered and ex
plored the Potomac. On the occasion of
one of these expeditions, his companions
were all cut off by the Indians, and he
himself, “beset with 2,000 savages,” was
taken prisoner and condemned to die.
Brought before the King of Pamunkee,
“ the savages” had fastened him to a tree,
and were about to make him a target for
the exhibition of their skill in archery,
when he obtained his release by the adroit
display of the great medicine of a pocket
compass. “ A bagge of gunpowder,”
which had come into the possession of
the savages, “ they carefully preserved
till the next spring, to plant as they did
their corn, because they would be ac
quainted with the nature of that seed.’
Taken at length before.Powhattan, their
Emperor, for the second time Smith had
sentence of death passed upon him. “Two
great stones were brought; as many as
could laid hands on him, dragged him to
them, and thereon laid his head, being
ready with their clubs to beat out his
brains.” At this juncture, “Pocahontas,
the king’s dearest daughter,” a beautiful
girl, the “nonpareil of the country,” was
touched with pity for the white-skinned
stranger; and, “when no entreaty could
prevail,” she rushed forward and “got his
head in her arms, and laid her own upon
his to save him from death,” and thus
succeeded, at the risk of her life, in ob
taining the pardon of the prisoner. Poca
hontas Avas afterwards married to John
Rolfe, “an honest and discreet ” young
Englishman, and from her some of the
first families of the Old Dominicfn are
proud to trace their descent.
The Importance of Little Things.
A young man, about the age of twenty
one, went into the city of Paris, in .1788,
in search of a situation. He had nothing
to trust to but Providence and a letter of
introduction to a celebrated banking es
tablishment. He called on the gentle
man at the head of it in full expectation
ol finding employment. Monsieur Perre
geaux glanced hastily over his letter and
then returned it, saying, “We have no
thing for you to do, sir.” The young
man’s hopes died Avithin him. He almost
burst into tears. But there was no help
for it. So he boAved and retired in silence.
As he passed through the court-yard of
the building, he suav a pin lying on the
pavement. He picked it up and stuck it
carefully into the sleetm of liis coat. The
banker saw what took place, and argued
from it a habit of economy. He called
him back, and offered him a humble situ
ation in the establishment. From that
he rose by degrees till he became the
principal partner in the firm, and event
ually the chief banker in Paris! Thus
Jacques Lafitte, the son of a poor car
penter in Bayonne, under God, OAved his
fortune to the picking up of a pin!
“ My Boy Drunk.”
“Drunk! —my boy drunk!” and tears
started to the mother’s eyes, and she
bent her head in unutterable sorrow. In
that moment the vision of an useful and
honorable career was destroyed; and one
of worthlessness, if not absolute dishonor,
presented itself. Well did she know that
intemperance Avalks hand in hand Avith
poverty, shame and death; and her mo
ther's heart Avas pierced as Avith a sharp
pointed steel. Ah, young jnan, if the
holy feeling of a loA r e for her who bore
you is not dead Avithin you, shun that
Avhich gives her pain; adhere to that
Avhich gives her joy. It she is A\ith you
on earth, she does not, cannot desire to
see her son a drunkard; if she is with her
Father in heaven, she knoAvs that your
conduct shuts heaven against you, and
debars you from her society forever. The
drunkard cannot inherit the kingdom of
God.
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