!
Despise and spurn him never,
A thousand blessings on his head
'Tis he that feeds you ever.
Should others work no more than you
Quite spare would be your diet,
Your gills would turn a livid hue
If they would stop and try it.

Then go to work with hands or head,
You'll surely profit by it;
And strive to earn some honest bread--
You can, if you will try it.

Ye sweeter ones of gentler sex,
Who tread the pavement hourly,
I do not wish your hearts to vex,
Then pray don't take it sourly--
Methinks sometimes 'tis no disgrace
Tho' seldom you are nigh it,
To be at home, your proper place,--
If you don't believe it, try it.
Are there no duties there to do?
If so "be up and doing!"
No clothes to mend, that you could sew,
No beer that's worth the brewing?
Then stay at home, sometimes, at least,
My counsel, don't defy it,
A little rest's as good's a feast,
If you don't believe it, try it.

'Tis easy quite to do the right,
And in it there is beauty,
What e'er you do, do with your might,
But always do your duty.
Be true unto yourself, and then--
Wise counsel--don't decry it,
You can't be false to other men--
If you don't believe it, try it.

BYE AND BYE.

Shadowy, dreamy phantoms ever rising
Up before wild Fancy's eyes,
With their untold and beauteous splendor,
Make us present things despise.

And procrastination whispers softly,
Wait a little longer yet;
Rashness will defeat your purpose, mortal,
And be cause of deep regret.

Wait with patience just a moment longer,
Then with safety clutch them fast--
Thus the spirit of delay beguiles us,
Till the lucky time is past.

Moments freighted deep with joy ecstatic
All unheeded pass away;
While we musing scan the misty future,
Hoping they will ever stay.

Bye and bye! may gaily point us forward,
Unto scenes with joy o'ercast--
Only mirage of Life's barren desert,
They are found to be at last.

Bye and bye! with all its artful scheming,
Though it may seem most sublime,
Wisdom horror-stricken spurneth from her,
Knowing only present time.

Reason tells us now's the time for action,
And this truth will ever last,
Written as it is throughout all nature,
On the pages of the Past.

WILLIAM JAMES JONES.

William James Jones was born in Elkton, August 25, 1829, and received
his education at the common school and Academy in that town. His youth
and early manhood was spent in m