It matters little where be my grave,

If on the land, or in the sea;

By purling brook, 'neath stormy wave,
It matters little or nought to me;
But whether the angel of death comes down
And marks my brow with a loving touch,
As one that shall wear the victor's crown,
It matters much!

THE MONEYLESS MAN.-H. T. STANTON.
Is there no secret place on the face of the earth
Where charity dwelleth, where virtue has birth,
Where bosoms in mercy and kindness will heave
When the poor and the wretched shall ask and receive?
Is there no place at ali where a knock from the poor
Will bring a kind angel to open the door?
Oh! search the wide world, wherever you can,
There is no open door for a moneyless man.

Go, look in your hall where the chandelier's light
Drives off with its splendor the darkness of night;
Where the rich hanging velvet, in shadowy fold,
Sweeps gracefully down with its trimmings of gold;
And the mirrors of silver take up and renew,
In long-lighted vistas, the wildering view-
Go there at the banquet, and find, if you can,
A welcoming smile for a moneyless man.

Go, look in yon church of the cloud-reaching spire,
Which gives to the n his same look of red fire;
Where the arches and columns are gorgeous within,
And the walls seem as pure as a soul without sin;
Walk down the long aisles; see the rich and the great
In the pomp and the pride of their worldly estate;
Walk down in your patches, and find, if you can,
Who opens a pew for a n.oneyless man.

Go, look in the banks, where mammon has told
His hundreds and thousands of silver and gold;
Where, safe from the hands of the starving and poor,

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;
Where he frowns on the weak and smiles on the strong,
And punishes right whilst he justifies wrong;
Where juries their lips to the Bible have laid
To render a verdict they've already made;
Go there in the court-room and find if you can
Any law for the cause of a moneyless man.

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; 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
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;

He buttonholes 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 every 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 wheel.

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 every man,
And differing with none;

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
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.

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 show an intelligent gaze,
For which I am paid just a trifle,

And I've been in a number of plays.

Dreams? Yes, I've had lots of dreaming,
From very earliest hours,

When far off, a youth in the country,
I fancied I'd wonderful powers;
And looked on the players a-strolling
As beings of highest renown,

When they visited with their stock-pieces
The hall in our little old town.

I learnt pieces and used to recite them,
The country folk thought very well,
And then the desire for fresh triumphs
Had o'er me a dominant spell.