Then go to your hovel-no raven has fed

The wife that has suffered too long for her bread;
Kneel down by her pallet and kiss the death-frost
From the lips of the angel your poverty lost;
Then turn in your agony upward to God
And bless, while it smites you, the chastening rod;
And you'll find at the end of your life's little span,
There's a "welcome" above for-a moneyless man.

DARKEY'S COUNSEL TO THE NEWLY MARRIED.

EDMUND KIRKE.

My chil'ren, lub one anoder; bar wid one anoder; bo faithful ter one anoder. You hab started on a long jour ney; many rough places am in de road; many trubbles will spring up by de wayside; but gwo on hand an' hand togedder; lub one anoder, an' no matter what come onter you, you will be happy-for lub will sweeten ebery sorrer, lighten ebery load, make de sun shine in eben de bery cloudiest wedder. I knows it will, my chil'ren, 'case I'se been ober de groun'. Ole Aggy an' I hab trabbled de road. Hand in hand we hab gone ober de rocks; fru de mud; in de hot burning sand; been out togedder in de cole, an' de rain, an' de storm, fur nigh onter forty yar, but we hab clung to one anoder; an' fru ebery ting in do bery darkest days, de sun ob joy an' peace hab broke fru de clouds, an' sent him bressed rays inter our hearts. We started jess like two young saplin's you's seed a growin side by side in de woods. At fust we seemed 'way part fur de brambles, an' de tick bushes, an' de ugly forns [dem war our bad ways]-war atween us; but lub, like de sun, shone down on us, an' we grow'd. We grow'd till our heads got above de bushes; till dis little branch, an' dat little branch-dem war our holy feelin'sput out toward one anoder, an' we come closer an' closer togedder. An' dough we'm ole trecs now, an' sometime de wind blow, an' de storm rage fru de tops, an' freaten ter tear off de limbs, an' ter pull up de bery roots, we'm growin closer an' closer, an' nearer an' nearer togedder ebery day-an' soon de ole tops will meet; soon de ole

branches, all cobered ober wid de gray moss, will twine roun' one anoder; soon de two ole trees will come togedder, an' grow inter one foreber-grow inter one up dar in de sky, whar de wind neber'll blow, whar de storm neber'll beat; whar we shill blossom an' bar fruit to de glory ob de Lord, an' in His heabenly kingdom foreber! Amen.

THE BALANCE WHEEL.-E. R. COATES.

THE world, so full of talent,

Will be nearer full of right,

When people do the best they can,
And do it with their might;

And, while we talk of doing,

There's a point I would reveal;

You make an even speed, if you
Will wear a balance wheel.

Some folks are ever preaching,

And are ever praying, too;

They'd have you practice what they say,
But not as they would do;

You never see example

Of the holy things they feel;

They have no moral power,

For they have no-balance wheel.

Brown thinks, if he is social,

That his wealth is sure to grow;

Ile button-holes you just the time
You'd give a V to go;

He's thick with all the sporting men,
And bores you till you feel

That Brown's a clever fellow,
But he lacks-a balance wheel.

Smith tries the game of dignity
And makes a grand display;
He freezes ev'ry living thing
That comes within his way;
No person will approach him,
And no person deign to kneel;
But people very freely say

He needs-a balance whcel.

Tom vows he will be practical,
He really labors hard,
And aims to be a millionaire,
Like Astor and Girard;
He never reads a paper,

Yet he works away with zeal,
And loses all, because he failed
To get a balance wheel.

A scholar says that learning
Is the only noble aim;

He studies morning, noon, and night,
Till he is near insane;

His head is full of wisdom

That he never will reveal; So mark him down as nothing

For he lacks-a balance wheel.

Bill forms a resolution;

He is bound to make a sum,"

By "giving in" to ev'ry man,
And differing with none;

He's never slow with "Yes" and "No,"
And slip'ry as an eel:

His neighbors say he is a flat,

And lacks-a balance wheel.

Sam hates the name of weathercock,
And would reverse the rule,
When once he takes a notion,
There's a notion with a mule;
If he should find his error,

'Tis a thing he'll not reveal; The people say--he is a stick, And needs-a balance wheel.

No wonder that so many fail
And fizzle out again;

They take the stuff for one great man
And make two little men;

Or venturing beyond their depth,
They drown their fiery zeal;

You'll find them known as-able men
Who lack-a balance wheel.

The world, so full of talent,
Would be nearer full of right,
If we would run the engine

With its whole effective might;
And though we're doing wonders,
We would greater things reveal,
If on the apparatus

Each would hang-a balance wheel

ON THE TOWN.-R. H. STODDARD.

THE lamps are lighted, the streets are full,
For, coming and going, like waves of the sea,
Thousands are out this beautiful night;

They jostle each other, but shrink from me.
Men hurry by with a stealthy glance,

Women pass by with their eyes cast down, Even the children seem to know

The shameless girl of the town.

Hated and shunned, I walk the street,
Hunting-for what? My prey, 'tis said;
I look at it though in a different light,

For this nightly shame is my daily bread;-
My food, my shelter, the clothes I wear;
Only for this I might starve or drown;
The world has disowned me-what can I do,
But live and die on the town?

The world is cruel. It may be right
To crush the harlot, but grant it so,
What made her the guilty thing she is?
For she was innocent once, you know.
'Twas love!-that terrible word tells all;
She loved a man, and blindly believed
His vows, his kisses, his crocodile tears-
Of course, the fool was deceived.

What had I to gain by a moment's sin,

To weigh in the scale with my innocent years,

My womanly shame, my ruined name,

My father's curses, my mother's tears?

The love of a man! It was something to give

Was it worth it? The price was a soul paid down, Did I get a soul-his soul-in exchange?

Behold me here on the town!

"Your guilt was heavy," the world will say,

"And heavy, heavy your doom must be;

For, to pity and pardon a woman's fall,

Is to set no value on chastity.

You undervalue the virgin's crown,

The spotless honor that makes her dear;"But I ought to know what the bauble is worth, When the loss of it brings me here.

HH*

But, pity and pardon! Who are you,
To talk of pardon, pity, to me?
What I ask is justice, justice, Sir;

Let both be punished or both go free.
If it be in woman a dreadful thing,

What is it in man, now? Come, be just; (Remember she falls through her love for him, He, through his selfish lust!)

Tell me what is done to the wretch

Who tempts and riots in woman's fall?

His father curses, and casts him off?

His friends forsake? He is scorned of all?

Not he; his judges are men like himself,

Or thoughtless women who humor their whim; "Young blood," "wild oats," "better hush it up,” They soon forget it-in him!

Even his mother, who ought to know

The woman-nature and how it is won, Frames a thousand excuses for him,

Because, forsooth, the man is her son.

You have daughters, madam (he told me so),

Fair, innocent daughters,-"Woman, what then P Some mother may have a son like yours,

Bid them beware of men.

I saw his coach in the street to-day
Dashing along on the sunny side,
With a liveried driver on the box;
Lolling back in her listless pride,
The wife of his bosom took the air.

She was bought in the mart where hearts are sold; I gave myself away for his love,

She sold herself for his gold.

He lives, they say, in a princely way,

Flattered and feasted. One dark night,
Some devil led me to pass his house;

I saw the windows a blaze of light;
The music whirled in a maddening round;
I heard the fall of the dancers' feet;
Bitter, bitter, the thoughts I had
Standing there in the street.

Back to my gaudy den I went,

Marched to my room in grim despair,
Dried my eyes, and painted my cheeks,
And fixed a flower or two in my hair.
Corks were popping, wine was flowing;
I seized a bumper and tossed it down;
One must do something to kill the time,-
And fit one's self for the town.