" THE SWEET LITTLE MAN."

[TO TER EDITOR. Or THE "SrACTAT014.1 SIR,—When the "nuts" of Boston would not go to the war, and preferred lounging in ease and criticizing their betters for not helping to save their country in better form, Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote "The Sweet Little Man." His verses sting like a whip. It was only to a minority that they applied. In all wars there must be many men who cannot, even when most willing, answer the call. The gilded youth, the idle bloods, are, however, just the men who can and ought to go—the men who are not doing useful and necessary work, but merely looking on at life. We have among us now a certain number of " sweet little men." Let the older men and the women use Wendell Holmes's poem as a recruiting force. They may justly apply the whip of ridicule to the idlers. I give the verses below. I have left out those which only apply to the

War of Secession.—I am, Sir, &c. Z.

" THE SWEET LITTLE MAN. [Oraysa WENDELL HOLMES.] (Dedicated to the Stay-at-Home Rangers.)

All the brave boys under canvas are sleeping, All of them pressing to march with the van, Far from the home where their sweethearts are weeping; What are you waiting for, sweet little man?

You with the terrible warlike moustaches, Fit for a colonel or chief of a clan, You with the waist made for sword-belts and sashes, Where are your shoulder-straps, sweet little man?

Bring him the buttonless garment of woman!

Cover his face lest it freckle and tan ; Muster the Apron-String Guards on the Common, That is the corps for the sweet little man !

Give him for escort a file of young misses, Each of them armed with a deadly rattan ; They shall defend him from laughter and hisses, Aimed by low boys at the sweet little man.

All the fair maidens about him shall cluster,

Pluck the white feathers from bonnet and fan, Make him a plume like a turkey-wing duster—

That is the crest for the sweet little man!

Oh, but the Apron-String Guards are the fellows I Drilling each day since our troubles began— `Handle your walking-sticks !" Shoulder umbrellas !

That is the style for the sweet little man !

Have we a nation to save? In the first place

Saving ourselves is the sensible plan,— Surely the spot where there's shooting's the worst place Where I can stand, says the sweet little man.

Such was the stuff of the Malakoff-takers, Such were the soldiers that scaled the Redan ; Truculent housemaids and bloodthirsty Quakers, Brave not the wrath of the sweet little man!

Yield him the sidewalk, ye nursery maidens !

Sauce qui peat! Bridget, and right about! Ann :— Fierce as a shark in a school of menhadens,

See him advancing, the sweet little man ! •

When the brown soldiers come back from the borders, How will he look while his features they scan? How will he feel when he gets marching orders, Signed by his lady love, sweet little man?

• Now then, nine cheers for the Stay-at-Home Ranger!

Blow the great fish-horn and beat the big pan First in the field that is farthest from danger, Take your white-feather plume, sweet little man !"