Why do we, like the moth around the taper,
Sport with the fire that must consume our frame?

Be wise in time! Arouse thee, oh thou sleeper,
Account thy moments dearer than thy gold;
While time thou hast, appoint a good time-keeper
To treasure up thine hours till thou art old.

Lose but this chance, and thou art lost for ever,--
Seek him who keeps a watch for sinking souls--
Ask for COX SAVORY'S HORIZONTAL LEVER,
With double case, and jewell'd in four holes!

To Persons About to Marry.

Gentle pair, ere Hymen binds you
In his fetters, soft but sure,
Pray, bethink you, have you ever
Had substantial furniture?

Love's a fickle god, they tell us,
Giddy-pated, lightly led,
Therefore it were well you found him
In a comfortable bed.

Olive branches soon will blossom
Round your table, two or three;
And that table should be made of
Good and strong mahogany.

If the cares of life should gather,
And we all must look for cares,--
Sorrow falls extremely lightly
In the midst of rosewood chairs.

Few that walk can 'scape a stumble,
Thus hath said The Prophet-King;
But your fall will be a light one
On Axminster carpeting.

We can keep your little children
From collision with the grate--
We have wardrobes, we have presses
At a reasonable rate;

Mirrors for the queen of beauty
Basins of the purest stone,
Ottomans which Cleopatra
Might have envied on her throne.

Seek us ere you taste with rapture
Love's sweet draught of filter'd honey,
And you'll find the safest plan is,
NO DISCOUNT, AND READY MONEY!

Want Places.

Wants a place a lad, who's seen
Pious life at brother Teazle's,
Used to cleaning boots, and been
Touch'd with grace, and had the measles.

* * * * *

Wants a place as housemaid, or
Companion to a bachelor,
Up in years, and who'd prefer
A person with no character,
A female, who in this respect,
Would leave him nothing to object.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS

The Lay of the Lover's Friend.

[AIR--"_The days we went a-gypsying_."]

I would all womankind were dead,
Or banished o'er the sea;
For they have been a bitter plague
These last six weeks to me:
It is not that I'm touched myself,
For that I do not fear;
No female face has shown me grace
For many a bygone year.
But 'tis the most infernal bore,
Of all the bores I know,
To have a friend who's lost his heart
A short time ago.

Whene'e