If at any time you find it necessary to correct your brother, do not correct him with mud--never, on any account, throw mud at him, because it will spoil his clothes. It is better to scald him a little, for then you obtain desirable results. You secure his immediate attention to the lessons you are inculcating, and at the same time your hot water will have a tendency to move impurities from his person, and possibly the skin, in spots. If your mother tells you to do a thing, it is wrong to reply that you won't. It is better and more becoming to intimate that you will do as she bids you, and then afterward act quietly in the matter according to the dictates of your best judgment. You should ever bear in mind that it is to your kind parents that you are indebted for your food, and for the privilege of staying home from school when you let on that you are sick. Therefore you ought to respect their little prejudices, and humor their little whims, and put up with their little foibles until they get to crowding you too much. Good little girls always show marked deference for the aged. You ought never to “sass” old people unless they “sass” you first. POST-MORTEM POETRY (1) In Philadelphia they have a custom which it would be pleasant to see adopted throughout the land. It is that of appending to published death-notices a little verse or two of comforting poetry. Any one who is in the habit of reading the daily Philadelphia _Ledger _must frequently be touched by these plaintive tributes to extinguished worth. In Philadelphia, the departure of a child is a circumstance which is not more surely followed by a burial than by the accustomed solacing poesy in the _Public Ledger_. In that city death loses half its terror because the knowledge of its presence comes thus disguised in the sweet drapery of verse. For instance, in a late _Ledger _I find the following (I change the surname): DIED Hawks.--On the 17th inst., Clara, the daughter of Ephraim and Laura Hawks, aged 21 months and 2 days. That merry shout no more I hear, No laughing child I see, No little arms are around my neck, No feet upon my knee; No kisses drop upon my cheek, These lips are sealed to me. Dear Lord, how could I give Clara up To any but to Thee? A child thus mourned could not die wholly discontented. From the _Ledger _of the same date I make the following extract, merely changing the surname, as before: Becket.--On Sunday morning, 19th inst., John P., infant son of George and Julia Becket, aged 1 year, 6 months, and 15 days. That merry shout no more I hear, No laughing child I see, No little arms are round my neck, No feet upon my knee; No kisses drop upon my cheek; These lips are sealed to me. Dear Lord, how could I give Johnnie up To any but to Thee?