MY COUNTRY'S WARDROBE.

My country need not change her gown,

Her triple suit as sweet

As when‘ t was cut at Lexington,

And first pronounced “a fit.”

Great Britain disapproves “the stars;”

Disparagement discreet, —

There‘ s something in their attitude

That taunts her bayonet.

Faith is a fine invention

For gentlemen who see;

But microscopes are prudent

In an emergency!