Thus, thus, I leap upon thy back, and scour the distant plains,

Away, who overtakes us now, shall claim thee for his pains.

THE FELON.

OH! mark his wan and hollow cheek,
And mark his eye-balls glare:
And mark his teeth in anguish clench'd,
The anguish of despair:

Know, since three days, his penance borne,
Yon felon left a jail;

And since three days no food has pass'd
Those lips so parch'd and pale.

"Where shall I turn ?" the wretch exclaims;
"Where hide my shameful head?
How fly my scorn? Oh! how contrive
To earn my honest bread?

This branded hand would gladly toil;
But when for work I pray,

Who sees this mark-'A FELON!' cries,
And loathing turns away.

"This heart has greatly err'd, but now
Would fain revert to good;

This hand has greatly sinn'd, but yet
Has ne'er been stain'd with blood.

For work, or alms, in vain I sue;
The scorners both deny :

I starve! I starve!-then what remains ?
This choice to sin or die!

"Here virtue spurns me with disdain ;

Here pleasure spreads her snare;
Strong habit drags me back to vice,
And urged by fierce despair,

I strive while hunger gnaws my heart,
To fly from shame in vain.
World, 'tis my cruel will! I yield,
And plunge in guilt again.

"There's mercy in each ray of light
That mortal eyes e'er saw;
There's mercy in each breath of air
That mortal lips e'er draw:
There's mercy both for bird and beast
In God's indulgent plan;

There's mercy in each creeping thing-
But man has none for man!

"Ye proudly honest! when ye heard
My wounded conscience groan,
Had generous hand or feeling heart
One glimpse of mercy shown,
That act had made, from burning eyes,
Sweet tears of virtue roll;

Had fix'd my heart, assur'd my faith,
And heav'n had gain'd a soul."

THE BACHELOR'S REASONS FOR TAKING A WIFE.

GRAVE authors say, and witty poets sing,
That honest wedlock is a glorious thing:
But depth of judgment most in him appears,
Who wisely weds in his maturer years,
Then let him choose a damsel young and fair,
To bless his age, and bring a worthy heir;

To soothe his cares, and free from noise and strife,
Conduct him gently to the verge of life;
Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore,
Full well they merit all they feel, and more;
Unaw'd by precepts, human and divine,
Like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join:

Nor know to make the present blessing last,
To hope the future, or esteem the past;
But vainly boast the joys they never try'd,
And find divulged the secrets they would hide.
The marry'd man may bear his yoke with ease,
Secure at once himself and heaven to please;
And pass his inoffensive hours away,

In bliss all night, and innocence all day :
Tho' fortune change, his constant spouse remains,
Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.

But what so pure which envious tongues will spare?
Some wicked wits have libell'd all the fair.
With matchless impudence they style a wife
The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life;
A bosom serpent, a domestic evil,

A night invasion, and a mid-day devil.

Let not the wise these sland'rous words regard,
But curse the bones of every lying bard.

All other goods by Fortune's hand are given--
A wife is the peculiar gift of heaven:
Vain Fortune's favours, never at a stay,
Like empty shadows, glide and pass away;
One solid comfort-our eternal wife,
Abundantly supplies us all our life.

This blessing lasts (if those who try say true)
As long as e'er a heart can wish-and longer too.
Our grandsire Adam, e'er of Eve possess'd,
Alone, and even in Paradise unbless'd,
With mournful looks the blissful scenes survey'd
And wander'd in the solitary shade:
The maker saw, took pity, and bestowed
Woman, the last, the best reserve of God.

A wife! ah, gentle deities, can he
That has a wife e'er feel adversity?
Would men but follow what the sex advise,
All things would prosper-all the world grow wise.
"Twas by Rebecca's aid that Jacob won

His father's blessing from an elder son:

Stretch'd on the ground, awhile entranc'd he
And press'd warm kisses on the lifeless clay
And then upsprung, with wild convulsive start,
And all the father kindled in his heart!

'Oh, Heavens,' he cried, 'my first rash vow forgive,
These bind to earth-for these I pray to live.'
Round his chill babes he wrapp'd his crimson vest,
And clasp'd them sobbing to his aching breast.

HANDS versus HEADS.

I THINK the hand must certainly be a more important member than the head; for we all know, if a man lose his hand, he is subjected to much inconvenience which cannot be disguised; whereas if a man lose his head, there's an end of all his troubles, and he never complains about the matter. Again, if a man should be born without a head, although it might at first be thought he would cut a very strange figure in the world, yet we know from experience otherwise. We know that such a man may be a good neighbour, a loyal subject, and indeed, an excellent parish-officer. Suppose the same man without an arm-still he is better, for if there's any treason abroad, he's sure to have no hand in it; although this may not say much for his honesty, inasmuch as the world may call him light-fingered. I am willing to take both sides of the question, but still I cannot avoid a little partiality in the favour of hands. I hope every person present has not lived so long in the world, without being three or four times in imminent danger of going out of it. If this has been the case, I must triumph in one position; does the doctor deal with his head? no, he applies to the hand. Go to a lawyer, ask him for a single monosyllable, and we all know, before he opens his mouth-he holds out his hand. There is a current from the palm to all the other functions and moral capacities of man. The hand may be said to contain

all the channels in the moral world ;-from the hand of a lawyer it washes the Cape of Good Hope, and abounds in flats. In the miser, it is the Frozen Ocean. In the doctor, too frequently, the Dead Sea. In the slave-merchant, it is the Atlantic, for it keeps the whites from the blacks. The parson's hand holds the parish stream. Every man contributes a share in the hand of the tax-gatherer, is the Bay of Biscay, for what falls in, there is no knowing where it goes to; in the hand of the man of the world, is the petrifying spring of Derbyshire, for whatever is put into it, comes out a stone,-and in the hand of the man of charity, is the blessed Nile, for its overflowings give abundance and content. It would be well if our heraldry were, as Othello says, "hands, not hearts." From the true poet's hand flows the purest crystal, which without disguise, shews the little shining pebble and the hollow shell in their native brilliancy and emptiness. Hands are the most important members, far superior to heads; even a bad man's hand may be sometimes held out, and give a hearty shake, when in five minutes after the head may reprove the action; when the hand is given in haste, the repentant head sometimes says 'excuse my glove," which may be translated, excuse my heart." How often do we see, when gentlemen can do nothing with their heads, settle matters with their hands; men, who have frequently not reason to withdraw an objection, have fortunately a finger to draw a trigger. I hope these affairs will, in many cases, be allowed to depend entirely upon hands, and in which heads have not the least transaction. A hand, I repeat it, is the most powerful engine in the possession of man; and if any gentleman present is sceptical on this point, I trust he may be arrested before he gets home, in order that he may declare to me, by to-morrow morning's post, that there is nothing so awful as the hand of a sheriff's officer; never mind the head of the law, or I should say, head and wig; for what would one

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