It matters little where be my grave, If on the land, or in the sea; By purling brook, 'neath stormy wave, THE MONEYLESS MAN.-H. T. STANTON. Go, look in your hall where the chandelier's light Go, look in yon church of the cloud-reaching spire, Go, look in the banks, where mammon has told Lie piles upon piles of the glittering ore; Walk up to their counters-ah! there you may stay Till your limbs shall grow old and your hair shall grow gray, And you'll find at the bank not one of the clan With money to lend to a moneyless man. Go, look to your Judge, in his dark, flowing gown, With the scales wherein law weigheth equity down; Then go to your hovel-no raven has fed DARKEY'S COUNSEL TO THE NEWLY MARRIED.-EDMUND KIRKE. My chil'ren, lub one anoder; bar wid one anoder; be faithful ter one anoder. You hab started on a long journey; 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 de 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 agrowin 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 growed. We growed till our heads got above de bushes; till dis little branch, an' dat little branch-dem war our holy feelin's-put out toward one anoder, an' we come closer an' closer togedder. An' dough we'm ole trees 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' uearer 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.-ELMER RUAN COATES. The world, so full of talent, Will be nearer full of right 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, 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; He buttonholes you just the time He's thick with all the sporting men, Smith tries the game of dignity He needs - a balance wheel. Tom vows he will be practical, Like Astor and Girard; He never reads a paper, Yet he works away with zeal, A scholar says that learning He studies morning, noon, and night, 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 every man, He's never slow with "Yes" and "No," And slippery 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 They take the stuff for one great man The world, so full of talent, If on the apparatus Each would hang-a balance wheel. THE SUPER'S STORY.-EDWIN DREW. You see, sir, I'm only a super, I'm one of the mob on the stage, With never a line to utter The crowd in front to engage. My part is to hold up a banner, And I've been in a number of plays. Dreams? Yes, I've had lots of dreaming, When far off, a youth in the country, When they visited with their stock-pieces I learnt pieces and used to recite them, |