company. The courage of women is tried chiefly in domestic dangers. They are attendants on the sick and dying, and they must qualify themselves to go through many scenes of terror in these situations, which would alarm the stoutest-hearted man who was not accustomed to them.

E. I have heard that women generally bear pain and illness better than men.

Mrs. F. They do so, because they are more used to them, both in themselves and others.

E. I think I should not be afraid again to see anybody bled.

Mrs. F. I hope not. It was for that purpose I made you stand by me. And I would have you always force yourself to look on and give assistance in cases of this kind, however painful it may at first be to you, that you may as soon as possible gain that presence of mind which arises from habit.

E. But would that make me like to be bled myself? Mrs. F. Not to like it, but to lose all foolish fears about it, and submit calmly to it when good for you. But I hope you have sense enough to do that already.

SEVENTEENTH EVENING.

PHAETON JUNIOR;

OR, THE GIG DEMOLISHED,

YE heroes of the upper form.
Who long for whip and reins,
Come listen to a dismal tale,
Set forth in dismal strains.

Young Jehu was a lad of fame,
As all the school could tell;
At cricket, taw, and prison-bars,
He bore away
the bell.

Now welcome Whitsuntide was come,
And boys, with merry hearts,
Were gone to visit dear mamma,
And eat her pies and tarts.

As soon as Jehu saw his sire,
"A boon! a boon!" he cried;
"O, if I am your darling boy,
Let me not be denied."

"My darling boy, indeed thou art,”
The father wise replied;

"So name the boon; I promise thee It shall not be denied."

"Then give me, sir, your long-lash'd whip, And give your gig and pair,

To drive along to yonder town,

And flourish through the fair."

The father shook his head; "My son,
You know not what you ask,
To drive a gig in crowded streets
Is no such easy task.

"The horses full of rest and corn,
Scarce I myself can guide;
And much I fear, if you attempt,
Some mischief will betide.

"Then think, dear boy, of something else
That's better worth your wishing;
A bow and quiver, bats and balls,
A rod and lines, for fishing."

But nothing could young Jehu please,
Except a touch at driving;
'Twas all in vain, his father found,
To spend his breath in striving.

"At least attend, rash boy!" he cried,
And follow good advice,

Or in a ditch, both gig and you

Will tumble in a trice.

'Spare, spare the whip, hold hard the reine,

The steeds go fast enough;

Keep in the middle, beaten track,

Nor cross the ruts so rough:

"And when within the town you come,
Be sure, with special care,

Drive clear of signposts, booths, and stalls,
And monsters of the fair."

The youth scarce heard his father out,
But roar'd, "Bring out the whisky!"
With joy he view'd the rolling wheels,
And prancing ponies frisky.

He seized the reins, and up

he

sprang,

And waved the whistling lash;

"Take care! take care!" his father cried; But off he went, slap-dash.

"Who's this light spark ?" the horses thought, "We'll try your strength, young master;" So, o'er the rugged turnpike-road,

Still faster ran, and faster.

Young Jehu, tott'ring in his seat,
Now wish'd to pull them in;
But pulling, from so young a hand,
They valued not a pin.

A drove of grunting pigs, before,

Fill'd up the narrow way;

Dash through the midst the horses drove,

And made a rueful day:

For some were trampled under foot,

Some crush'd beneath the wheel;
Lord! how the drivers cursed and swore,
And how the pigs did squeal!

A farmer's wife, on old, blind Ball,
Wert slowly on the road,

With butter, eggs, and cheese, and cream
In two large panniers stow'd.

Ere Ball could stride the rut, amain
The gig came thund'ring on;

Crash went the panniers, and the dame
And Ball lay overthrown.

Now, through the town the mettled pair
Ran, rattling o'er the stones;
They drove the crowd from side to side,
And shook poor Jehu's bones.

When, lo! directly in their course,
A monstrous form appear'd;
A shaggy bear, that stalk'd and roar'd,
On hinder legs uprear'd.

Sideways they started, at the sight,
And whisk'd the gig half round,
Then, cross the crowded market-place,
They flew with furious bound.

First, o'er a heap of crock'ry-ware,
The rapid car they whirl'd;

And jugs, and mugs, and pots, and pans,
In fragments, wide were hurl'd.

A booth stood near, with tempting cakes
And grocery richly fraught;

All Birmingham, on t'other side,
The dazzled optics caught.

With active spring, the nimble steeds
Rush'd through the pass between,
And scarcely touch'd;-the car behind
Got through not quite so clean :

For, while one wheel one stall engaged, Its fellow took the other;

Dire was the clash; down fell the booths,
And made a dreadful pother.

Nuts, oranges, and gingerbread,
And figs here roll'd around;

And scissors, knives, and thimbles there,
Bestrew'd the glitt'ring ground.

The fall of boards, the shouts and cries,
Urged on the horses faster;
And, as they flew, at ev'ry step,
They caused some new disaster.

Here lay, o'erturned, in woful plight,
A pedlar and his pack;

There, in a showman's broken box,
All London went to wreck.

But now the fates decreed to stop
The ruin of the day,

And make the gig, and driver too,
A heavy reck'ning pay.

A ditch there lay, both broad and deep,
Where streams, as black as Styx,
From every quarter of the town,
Their muddy currents mix.

Down to its brink, in heedless haste,
The frantic horses flew,

And in the midst, with sudden jerk,
Their burden overthrew.

The prostrate gig, with desp'rate force,
They soon pull'd out again,
And, at their heels, in ruin dire,
Dragg'd, lumb'ring, o'er the plain.

Here lay a wheel, the axle there,
The body there remain'd,

Till, sever'd limb from limb, the car,
Nor name nor shape retain'd.