CHILDREN'S RIGHTS.

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horses, and dolls, and pop-guns, and ginger-bread,—don't believe I can do it, by Jupiter!

But then, I sit, with the toe of my best boot kicking the grate, for the want of something to do; it's coming awful cold, dreary weather, long evenings; can't go to concerts forever, and when do, my room looks so much the gloomier when I come back, and it would be cozy to have a nice little wife to chat and laugh with. I've tried to think of something else, but I can't; if I look in the fire, I am sure to see a pair of bright eyes; even the shadows on the wall take fairy shapes; I'm on the brink of ruin-I feel it; I shall read my doom in the marriage list before long-I know I shall.

CHILDREN'S RIGHTS.-Johnny Grit.

I rise, fellow-tormentors, to address you on a great big question -children's rights.

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Everybody is talking of women's rights, the rights of the ple, the rights of labor, but who talks of our rights? Nobody! On the other hand, everybody talks to us and treats us as if we hadn't any more rights than a litter of puppies, and even the nurse girls treat us as nuisances.

Now, if men are only children of larger growth, then it is true that children are men of smaller growth; for it's a poor rule that won't work both ways when the destiny of the human race is going to be put on trial.

Look at me? Am I not a human being? Don't I eat, drink, and sleep like any other person? And shall every great big lout, because he is big, be a voter, and have all kinds of rights, while I am only a boy? I protest against it-I rebel-I won't submit-so there now! If this be treason make the most of it!

I demand the right to come to the first table when there is "company " in the house.

I demand the right to sit up, every evening, as long as anybody else.

I demand the right to spit, chew, and swear, just like any other big man; but I don't expect to exercise that right and thus make a human hog of myself.

I demand to have a whole seat in the cars when I travel. I demand the right to spend my pocket-money as I please. I demand the right to vote to help put out of office that great elephant Hawkins, who, every time he passes a little boy, growls like some beast, "Get out of my way, you little pest!"

I demand the right to go to parties with some other girl than sis.

I demand the right to give the nurse girl “fits" pulls my hair in combing.

every time she I'm going to lecture on these rights. I'll howl from the platform like Miss Mad Anthony, and tear things like Mrs. Jupiter Mars, but I'll be heard in my cause.

Glorious cause! Long enough have cruel men slaughtered us innocents for breakfast, dinner, and tea; now we'll be slaughtered no more!

Hear this, O ye persecutors and tormentors of my class, and hearing, tremble!

CASABIANCA.*-Mrs. Hemans.

The boy stood on the burning deck,
Whence all but him had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;

A creature of heroic blood,

A proud, though child-like form.

The flames rolled on, he would not go
Without his father's word;

That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud-" Say, father, say,
If yet my task is done?"

He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.

"Speak, father!" once again he cried,
"If I may yet be gone!

And "- but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waving hair,

And looked from that lone post of death

In still, yet brave despair :

And shouted but once more aloud,

My father! must I stay?"

While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,

The wreathing fires made way.

*Young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the Admiral of the Orient, remained at his post, in the battle of the Nile, after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned, and perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder.

BOATS.

They wrapt the ship in splendor wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child
Like banners in the sky.

There came a burst of thunder sound-
The boy-oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea.

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part-
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young faithful heart!

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BOATS.-Johnny Shrimps.

I like boats. When I am big I mean to have as many boats as I want. I once read a book written by Mr. Sparrowgrass. He said that a boat was a good thing to have in the house, especially if there be any water near. I think so too.

Pa says he'll buy me a boat when he gets rich. He says he's too poor now, and can hardly get clothes to his back. He bought a nice new coat only last week. He says he can't afford a boat though; he has to buy cigars, and a pew in church, and John Barleycorn, and other necessaries of life. I think a boat is more a necessary of life than a pew in church, any day. I wonder who John Barleycorn is, and why pa wants to buy him?

dead as a fun. The It hurts

Aunt Jerusha says that if that boy has a boat he'll be sure to tumble overboard and be brought home wringing wet, and door-nail, by the police, on a shutter. It would be cops bring me home by the coat-collar or by the ear. I think a shutter would be much better.

I rowed pa once. Pa says it's good for boys to row, and good

for men to sit in the stern of the boat and be rowed. boys have too much of a good thing. I had it then.

Sometimes

I caught crabs when rowing. I caught 'em with my oar, and they knocked me off the seat. Pa said not to care; it would make me grow. I don't see how it makes boys grow to be knocked over into the bottom of a leaky boat. It wets their trousers and makes 'em feel sticky. I don't call that growing.

I don't like to bale out boats. When the boat is leaky I take Dicky Mopps with me. He's littler than I am, and I can make him do all the baling. Once pa said he could not pay the rent, and might get arrested, and who should he get to bail him out? I said, Dicky Mopps." Pa said, "Don't be a fool." Ma says that pa

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sometimes asks very unreasonable things of me, and expects too much.

I like to build little steamboats. Aunt Jerusha says I use up all her spools of cotton for cylinders and rigging. I borrowed some of the wheels from the kitchen clock once to make ina

chinery, and the clock has never went since. Ma found it out, and told Aunt Jerusha that I had wonderful talent, and would make a great mechanic. But when I took a wheel and a needle, and some other things out of her sewing-machine, ma said I ought to be whipped soundly. I don't see why one thing didn't show as much talent as the other.

Aunt Jerusha says I am dragging her to an early grave, because I took her glasses out of her spectacles, and her old thimble, and her pill-boxes, and the top of the tea-kettle, to make up into things for my boat. She says she'll tell pa.

Pa says my boat is very nice. So I didn't tell him that I cut out the hull with his razor, and made the sails out of a piece of his shirt. Pa says that the washerwomen are very careless. One of them washed the back all out of one of his shirts. I think shirt-stuff makes very good sails. I mean to make a good many boats, and I know a boy whose father keeps a watch-store, and has lots of little wheels and things. That boy's name is Spriggins-Hank Spriggins. I gave him an apple to-day; it was sour, and I didn't want it. I mean to make up to Spriggins, and see if he won't give me some clock-works. He can get some from his pa. I often get things from pa without bothering him by asking him beforehand. I take 'em. It saves trouble.

"LITTLE JIM."

The cottage was a thatched one, the outside old and mean,
Yet everything within that cot was wondrous neat and clean;
The night was dark and stormy, the wind was howling wild,
A patient mother watched beside the death-bed of her child—
A little worn-out creature--his once bright eyes grown dim;
It was the collier's wife and child-they called him "Little Jim."

And oh to see the briny tears fast hurrying down her cheeks,
As she offered up a prayer in thought-she was afraid to speak
Lest she might 'waken one she loved far better than her life,
For she had all a mother's heart, had that poor collier's wife-
With hand uplifted, see! she kneels beside the sufferer's bed,
And prays that He will spare her boy, and take herself instead.

She gets her answer from the child-soft fall these words from him:
"Mother, the angels do so smile, and beckon 'Little Jim;'
I have no pain, dear mother, now, but oh! I am so dry-
Just moisten poor Jim's lips again, and, mother, don't ye cry."

NOTHING TO DO.

With gentle, trembling haste she held a teacup to his lips;
He smiled to thank her as he took three little tiny sips-
"Tell father, when he comes from his work, I said good-night to him;
And, mother, now I'll go to sleep." Alas! poor “Little Jim."

She saw that he was dying-that the child she loved so dear
Had uttered the last words that she might ever hope to hear;
The cottage door is opened-the collier's step is heard-
The father and the mother meet, but neither speak a word-
He felt that all was over-he knew his child was dead;
He took the candle in his hand and walked toward the bed;
His quivering lips gave token of the grief he'd fain conceal-
And see! his wife has joined him-the stricken couple kneel;
With hearts bowed down with sadness, they humbly ask of Him
In heaven once more to meet again their own poor "Little Jim."

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