THOSE HORRID VOLUNTEERS.

n P ir Mr. Editor, excuse me pray, lint vou're the friend. I know, of all our sex: ,f . tr ouble, sir, quite takes my strength away; It's quite enough the strongest mind to vex. "Uv husband, sir,—you know hiin—Mr. Pop, u irroceries sells—and doesn't sell em dear; \Hectin ,r me, his babbies, and his shop, flas been and 'rolled himself a volunteer. , ri mo nster man, he stands just four feet four, leaves his weak spouse—not quite, sir, fourteen stone. And three small children—soon there'll be one more, ' To pass their time uncared for and alone. Those tender vows which he once swore to me, la' church at Betlmal green, are all forgotten, To Irtmlle gunpowder instead of tea, Ami musket balls instead of balls of cotton. If standing armies they're obliged to keep, Can't single men be forced to volunteer? There's Mr Pop is getting in his sleep To mutter things that sound most awful queer „ Ei(r ] lt w heel, left wheel," like talking to a cart. - Night about left," I can't tell what he's dreaming; \ n d then he shouts out" Fire," which makes me start; The thought of fire, sir, always sets me screaming. He savs they're not real soldiers, perhaps, sir, not, That it's the fashion, and he must be in it; And if ;»« enemy came near the spot They'd all get sick leave granted in a minute. If that's the rase I think, sir, Sir. Pop Although he says himself it would look shabby Had better stop at home and mind the shop, Or else help me to nurse the blessed babby. It must be dangerous, by what they say, When they're out, sir, at target firing; They shut both eyes and turn tlieir heads away, _ While crowds of saucy nursemaids stand admiring. There's Snooks's house (they're in an awful fright) Gets peppered with their balls, you can't tell how; Ami Pop—he said the gun kicked—serve him right " lie missed the target, sir, and shot a cow. I hear they're trying to increase the force Twelve "officer's and twenty men already, Enough to frighten any foe, of course, If we could only get them to stand steady; But if they're only listing, sir, for show We mustn't look to them to be protected. The officers, themselves, their drill don't know, But that they say is not to be expected. i Small men should never mix in such affairs; ' And married, too! 'tis nothing but rascality, When men like Pop get taking soldiers' airsChildren in arms they look, sir, in reality. There's lots of drunken loafers in the town, Make them defend our glorious constitution; Upon their heads they'll call our blessings down, And, perhaps, prevent a female revolution. If foes should come we've engines and we've men, And they, of course, are used to standing fire: Let them play on 'em; if no good, why then We've the police; what more can we desire. My husband, sir, shall lay his arms aside: I'll try him first with coaxing and endearing. If useless, curtain lectures must be tried, And he'll be glad to drop his volunteering. J.T.M. Tiinaru.