But if you're poor, Heaven help you! though your sire
Had royal blood within him, and though you
Possessed the intellect of angels, too,

'Tis all in vain;-the world will ne'er inquire
On such a score;-why should it take the pains?
'Tis easier to weigh purses, sure, than brains.
I once saw a poor fellow, keen and clever,
Witty and wise;-he paid a man a visit,
And no one noticed him, and no one ever

Gave him a welcome. "Strange!" cried I; "whence is it?"
He walked on this side, then on that,
He tried to introduce a social chat;
Now here, now there, in vain he tried;
Some formally and freezingly replied;
And some

Said, by their silence, "Better stay at home."
A rich man burst the door,

As Croesus rich; I'm sure

He could not pride himself upon his wit;
And as for wisdom, he had none of it;
He had what's better, he had wealth.

What a confusion!-all stand up erect;
These crowd around to ask him of his health;
These bow in honest duty and respect;
And these arrange a sofa or a chair,
And these conduct him there.

"Allow me, Sir, the honor!"-then a bow
Down to the earth. Is 't possible to show
Meet gratitude for such kind condescension?
The poor man hung his head,

And to himself he said,

"This is, indeed, beyond my comprehension!' Then looking round,

One friendly face he found,

And said, "Pray, tell me, why is wealth preferred
To wisdom?"-"That's a silly question, friend!"
Replied the other; "have you never heard,

A man may lend his store

Of gold or silver ore,

But wisdom none can borrow, none can lend?"

CCI. THE TARTAR.

THERE's trouble in Hungary, now, alasi There's trouble on every hand.

For that terrible man,

The Tartar Khan,

Is ravaging over the land!

He is riding forth with his ugly men,

To rob, and ravish, and slay;

For deeds like those,

You may well suppose,

Are quite in the Tartar way.

And now he comes, that terrible chief, To a mansion grand and old;

And he peers about,

Within and without,

And what do his eyes behold?

A thousand cattle in fold and field,
And sheep all over the plain;

And noble steeds

Of rarest breeds,

And beautiful crops of grain.

But finer still is the hoarded wealth

That his ravished eyes behold;
In silver plate

Of wondrous weight,

And jewels of pearl and gold.

A nobleman owns this fine estate;
And, when the robber he sees,

'Tis not very queer

He quakes with fear,

And trembles a bit in the knees.

He quakes in fear of his precious life And scarce suppressing a groan.

"Good Tartar," says he,

The Khan looked round in a leisurely way,
As one who is puzzled to choose;
When cocking his ear,

He chanced to hear

The creak of feminine shoes.

The Tartar smiled a villainous smile,

When, like a lily in bloom,

A lady fair,

With golden hair,

Came gliding into the room.

The robber stared with amorous eyes;
Was ever so winning a face?

And long he gazed

As one amazed

To see such beauty and grace.

A moment more, and the lawless man
Had seized his struggling prey,

Without remorse,

And taking horse

He bore the lady away.

"Now heaven be praised!" the nobleman cried,
"For many a mercy to me!

I bow me still

Unto his will,—

God pity the Tartar!" said he.

-John G. Saxe.

CCII. THE OFFICE-SEEKER'S PLATFORM.

No man can be truly great without money, and the easiest way to get money is to take it on every occasion, no matter whose it may be. I mean to be truly great. It is safe to say, the way society is now constituted, that an honest man is a fool; and if a knave is not the noblest work of God, then what is he? I think that is very well put, what is he? Look at him as he moves in the highest circles of

society, swaggers along the sidewalk, talks of stocks, bonds, and mortgages, and boasts his untold wealth, and say what is he?

As for me, I mean to move in the highest circles of society. I am going to Congress to make money. I shall refuse no bribe, and shut my eyes to corruption. I care nothing for my constituents; let them look out for themselves. That is their business; my business is to get money and be truly great, and move in the highest circles of society. Honesty is the best policy for every body but me. I'll none of it. Not I.

I do not propose to steal from any private individual, and make myself answerable to the laws; but if any man wants a job put through, by which the people can be robbed, and a large share of the plunder find its way into my pocket, you may count on me. I am not a common ruffian; I am a high-toned Congressman. I do not knock a man down with a bludgeon, and go through his pockets; but I offer my congressional services, and then it is nothing to me who knocks him down after that. I can only say that I fear he would be poor picking after I get through with him.

I am a man of enterprise. I go in for railroads and canals, not so much because these things are public benefits, as because they open a channel for wealth to flow into my coffers from the pockets of the unsuspecting public. There is nothing better than money. My religion is money. My patriotism is money. I am perfectly willing to be a patriot if I am paid for it. I am for sale. Whoever pays my price can have me. I am not the only public-spirited patriot of this kind in the United States. You can find hundreds of them in every place of public trust, from a petty postmaster up to the most dignified Senator. They all love their country-for money.

Grab and grasp is the watch-word of the day. Steal while you can, for when you are dead, politically or physically, you can not. A few addlepates talk about putting

honest men in office; but it can't be done.

We have the power, for we have the money; and the more money we get the more power we shall have. We have struck a mine, and we don't mean to let go our grip. Honest men can't cope with us, because they are not up to all of the tricks of the professional politician. Oh, no! I tell you honesty is at a fearful discount. The people don't want it. They prefer being bled by knaves and rogues; and I, for one, am perfectly willing to let them have their way. Let them bleed if they like it. Fellow-citizens, these are not my sentiments. They are not the outspoken words of any officeseeker. Oh, no; but actions speak louder than words.

CCIII-A FRAGMENT.

It was a fearful night. The pale lightning quivered at intervals through the clouds, and the wind rushed through the neighboring wood, uttering strange, discordant sounds, which were followed by a mysterious stillness, augmenting the terrors of the hour. I found myself in a dark, gloomy dungeon. A dim light given by a lamp that hung far above me was the only thing visible. I knew not how I came there; enough that I was there. In the center of this scene of desolation, methought I saw a lady of most exquisite beauty, whose luxurious hair hung in natural ringlets over a graceful and well-molded shoulder. Her form, too, was

In her

such as an artist might have chosen for a model. hand was a wand, with which she beckoned me. I had advanced but a few steps, when an icy coldness seized me, and, by the livid effulgence of the lamp, I beheld skulls scattered over the floor, and heads, severed from their bodies, laughing with grim insensibility. Loud claps of thunder now shook the castle; but my own beating heart soon overpowered every other sound. A thrill of