THE SAME (CONTINUED).

A SCARLET Coat my father took,

And sword as bright as bright could be ; And feathers, that so gaily look,

All in a shining cap had he.

Then how my little heart did bound!

Alas! I thought it fine to see ;

Nor dreamt that when the kiss went round,
There soon should be no kiss for me.

At length the bell again did ring;
There was a victory, they said;
'Twas what my father said he'd bring;
But ah! it brought my father dead.
My mother shriek'd: her heart was woe:
She clasp'd me to her trembling knee.
O God! that you may never know
How wild a kiss she gave to me!

But once again—but once again,
These lips a mother's kisses felt.
That once again-that once again-

The tale a heart of stone would melt;
'Twas when, upon her deathbed laid-
O God! O God! that sight to see!—
My child!-My child!" she feebly said,
And gave a parting kiss to me.

So now am I an orphan boy,

With nought below my heart to cheer:
No mother's love, no father's joy,

Nor kin nor kind to wipe the tear.
My lodging is the cold, cold ground;
I eat the bread of charity;

And when the kiss of love goes round,
There is no kiss of love for me!

THELWALL.

THE BEGGAR'S PETITION.

PITY the sorrows of a poor old man

Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your

door;

Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span
Oh, give relief! and Heaven will bless your store.

These tatter'd clothes my poverty bespeak,
These hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years;
And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek
Has been the channel to a flood of tears.

Yon house, erected on the rising-ground,
With tempting aspect drew me from my road;
For Plenty there a residence has found,
And Grandeur a magnificent abode.

Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor:

Here as I craved a morsel of their bread, A pamper'd menial drove me from the door To seek a shelter in an humbler shed.

Oh, take me to your hospitable home!

Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold: Short is my passage to the friendly tomb,

For I am poor and miserably old.

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,

Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your

door;

Whose days are dwindled to the shortest spanOh, give relief! and Heaven will bless your store.

Moss.

THE OLD AND NEW SHOES.

"GOOD by, get away, you ugly old things!" Said a little boy once to his shoes;

"All stubb'd are your toes, all twisted your strings,

You're wrinkled, one-sided, and loose.

'But here are my new ones, so shiny and bright; They are almost as smooth as my skin:

How stiff they are, too! how straight and upright! How snug my feet feel now they're in!"

So saying, he gave to his old shoes a kick,
And strutted with pride to the door;

His unkindness had cut the old shoes to the quick,
For nothing contempt can endure.

"Master Frank, Master Frank, stop a while, if

you please"

('Twas one of the shoes he heard call); "Our soles cannot bear such insults as these, And your pride, Sir, will soon have a fall.”

Frank stood still with wonder and look'd at the shoe, But could not see into the matter;

At last he exclaimed,—“ As they've nothing to do, I suppose, like Poll Parrot, they chatter."

THE SAME (CONTINUED).

So he open❜d the door, and walk'd down the stairs,
His shoes were too stiff to go fast;

But let us observe him, and see how he fares,
How repentant poor Frank was at last.

His shoes wore so smooth that he could but just stand,

So tight that they pinch'd in his toes;
He could only sit still, and try to look grand,
And remember he had on new shoes.

But Fido ran in, who loved little Frank,

And the shoes were remember'd no more; They began to cut capers, but at the first prank Down tumbled poor Frank on the floor.

He was a brave boy, he thought not of crying,
He said "Never mind," though in pain;
He whistled to Fido, but there is no denying
He fell down again and again.

He went to his bed with his heart full of sorrow; He said to the nurse- "I should choose,

If you please, when I'm dress'd, my good Betsy, to-morrow,

To put on my easy old shoes.

THE SAME (CONTINUED).

"SEE how red my toes are, and I'm all black and blue;

I don't like my new shoes at all."

"Ah! you see," answered Betsy,

you was true ;

"what I told

Your shoes, Master Frank, are too small."

His old shoes he was glad in the morning to see; And, forgetting his trouble and pain,

"How happy," said he, "my poor toes will be To get into the old shoes again."