work for the tailor. But you are not above mending, I hope, for we must not mind wearing patched clothes while we work in the woods.

G. I am not, sir.

Mr. B. Then I engage you, too.
Henry. I am a silversmith, sir.

Mr. B. Then my friend, you cannot go to a worse place than a new country to set up your trade in. H. But I understand clock and watch making, too.

Mr. B. We shall want to know how time goes, but we cannot afford to employ you. At present, you had better stay where you are.

Jasper. I am a barber and hair dresser.

Mr. B. What can we do with you? If you will shave our men's rough beards once a week, and crop their hair once a quarter, and be content to help the carpenter the rest of the time, we will take you. But you will have no ladies to curl, or gentlemen to powder, I assure you.

Lewis. I am a doctor.

Mr. B. Then, sir, you are very welcome; we shall some of us be sick, we are

likely to get cuts, You will be very

and bruises, and broken bones.
useful. We shall take you with pleasure.
Maurice. I am a lawyer, sir.

Mr. B. Sir, your most obedient servant. When we are rich enough to go to law, we will let you know.

Oliver. I am a schoolmaster.

Mr. B. That is a very respectable profession-as soon as our children are old enough, we shall be glad of your services. Though we are hard working men, we do not mean to be ignorant. And who are you? Philip. A minister of the gospel.

Mr. B. We venerate you, sir, for the sake of your office, which is the most honourable and important to mankind. We should do well to support the institutions of our holy religion, were we to regard our temporal interests alone; for we are assured, that godliness has the promise of the life that now is, as well as of that which is to come. But, if, indeed, the maintenance of the sacred ministry, should be attended with some pecuniary sacrifice, we would readily make it, for the honour of God and to secure our well being in the coming world-recollecting the tremendous import of our Saviour's question-What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? With sentiments of affection and respect, therefore, sir, we welcome you to our number. Will you go?

P. With all my heart, sir.
Mr. B. Who comes here?

Quentin. I am a soldier, sir; will you have me? Mr. B. We are peaceable people, and I hope we shall not be obliged to fight. We will learn to defend ourselves, if we have occasion.

Robert. I am a gentleman, sir.

Mr. B. A gentleman! and what good can you

do us?

R. I mean to amuse myself.

Mr. B. Do you expect that we should pay for your amusement?

R. I expect to shoot game enough for my own eating you can give me a little bread and a few vegetables; and the barber shall be my servant?

Mr. B. The barber is much obliged to you. Pray, sir, why should we do all this for you?

B. Why, sir, that you may have the credit of

saying, that you have one gentleman at least, in your colony.

Mr. B. Ha, ha, ha! A fine gentleman truly. Sir, when we desire the honour of your company we will send for you.

THE CHILD ON THE OCEAN.

MOTHER, how small a thing am I,
Rocked on the restless sea!
I ask, when gazing on the sky,
Can God remember me?

How solemnly the stars look out,
Upon the broad, blue deep;
I wonder what the sun's about-
Has he gone away to sleep?

How beautiful the moon to see
Walk proudly through the night—
Unshadowed by a single tree,
To mar her queenly light.

How brilliant is the track we mark,
As leaps our vessel on-

A rival light, that cheers the dark,
When stars and moon are gone!

Mother, I am a feeble thing,

Mid scenes so vast and bold;

"My child, your thoughts can o'er them spring; Your mind they cannot hold."

THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE.

IN days of yore, when time was young,
When birds conversed as well as sung,
When use of speech was not confined
Merely to brutes of human kind,

A forward hare, of swiftness vain,
The genius of the neighbouring plain,
Would oft deride the drudging crowd,
For geniuses are ever proud:

He'd boast, his flight 'twere vain to follow;
For dog, and horse, he'd beat them hollow;
Nay, if he put forth all his strength,
Outstrip his brethren half a length.
A tortoise heard his vain oration,
And vented thus his indignation :-

"Oh puss! it bodes thee dire disgrace, When I defy thee to the race.

Come, 'tis a match; nay, no denial;

I lay my shell upon the trial."

'Twas "Done" and "Done!" "All fair!” “A

bet!"

Judges prepared, and distance set.

The scampering hare outstripped the wind;
The creeping tortoise lagged behind,
And scarce had passed a single pole,
When puss had almost reached the goal.
"Friend tortoise," quoth the jeering hare,
"Your burden's more than you can bear;
To help your speed, it were as well
That I should ease you of your shell:
Jog on a little faster, pr'ythee;
I'll take a nap, and then be with thee."

So said, so done, and safely, sure;
For say, what conquest more secure?
When'er he waked, (that's all that's in it,)
He could o'ertake him in a minute.
The tortoise heard his taunting jeer,
But still resolved to persevere;
Still drawled along, as who should say,
"I'll win, like Fabius, by delay;"
On to the goal securely crept,
While puss, unknowing, soundly slept.
The bets were won, the hare awoke,
When thus the victor-tortoise spoke
"Puss, though I own thy quicker parts,
Things are not always done by starts ;
You may deride my awkward pace,
But slow and steady wins the race."

:

THE MISERIES OF WAR.

I HATE that drum's discordant sound,
Parading round, and round, and round;
To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields,
And lures from cities and from fields:
To me it talks of ravaged plains,
And burning towns and ruined swains,
And mangled limbs, and dying groans,
And widow's tears and orphan's moans,
And all that misery's hand bestows,
To fill the cup of human woes.