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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. 51