MAN’S PLACE IN NATURE. (_Dedicated to Darwin and Huxley._) They told him gently he was made Of nicely tempered mud, That man no lengthened part had played Anterior to the Flood. ’Twas all in vain; he heeded not, Referring plant and worm, Fish, reptile, ape, and Hottentot, To one primordial germ. They asked him whether he could bear To think his kind allied To all those brutal forms which were In structure Pithecoid; Whether he thought the apes and us Homologous in form: He said, “Homo and Pithecus Come from one common germ.” They called him “atheistical,” “Sceptic,” and “infidel.” They swore his doctrines without fail Would plunge him into hell. But he with proofs in no way lame, Made this deduction firm, That all organic beings came From one primordial germ. That as for the Noàchian flood, ’Twas long ago disproved, That as for man being made of mud, All by whom truth is loved. Accept as fact what, malgré strife, Research tends to confirm―― That man, and everything with life, Came from one common germ. _Tinsley’s Magazine._ 1868. Contrast this refined _jeu d’esprit_ with the following specimen of the kind of literature that is sold by street ballad singers. It was printed at _Taylor’s_ Song Mart, Brick Lane, Bethnal Green, and sold for one half-penny:―― FAITHLESS NELLY. They told him gently she was gone To the station house, and smil’d; They led him to a dark back cell, Where laid his squalling child. For gin she had sold everything, And spent all she could borrow; “In the station house she sleeps,” says he, “She’ll be out again to-morrow.” Six policemen bore her to the cell, Next day before the beak, And for blacking a big policeman’s eye She was sent up for a week. Outside the Court the old man watch’d Her into the van with sorrow; Says he, “If I take you home to day, You will be here again to morrow.” They took her straight to Tothill Fields, To grind wind on the mill, But she scream’d aloud for a drop of gin, They gave her an extra drill. Six days after the old man saw Her through the bars with sorrow; Says she, “Old boy, I’m lock’d in now, I shall be out again to-morrow.” ――――:o:―――― WINGS. (Composed by DOLORES.) Wings! to bear me over Mountain and vale away; Wings! to bathe my spirit In morning’s sunny ray. Wings! that I may hover At morn above the sea; Wings! thro’ life to bear me And death triumphantly.