For there's a charm in woman's eye,
A language in her tear,

A spell in every sacred sigh,

To man-to virtue dear;

And he who can resist her smiles
With brutes alone should live,
Nor taste that joy which care beguiles-
That joy her virtues give.

BEAR AND FORBEAR.

J. E. CARPENTER.]
[Music by L. PHILLIPS.
Bear and forbear, whatsoe'er be your station;
Some there must be both to give and receive.
What could avail all the wealth of the nation,

Were it not meant to assist and relieve?
Some there must be to produce by their labour,
Some to consume when the seed ripens fair.
Is there a man but depends on his neighbour?
All nature teaches us-bear and forbear!

Bear and forbear-what's the use of oppression? The spirit of truth it can never be crush'd? Why should we covet mere worldly possession? The loud voice of justice can never be hush'd. Be sure, in good time, there will come restitutionWas not the earth made for all men to share? And He who made, wisely, the first distribution, Still teaches us all we should bear and forbear.

DROWN IT IN THE BOWL.

ANONYMOUS.]

[Music by GEARY

The glasses sparkle on the board,
The wine is ruby bright,

The reign of pleasure is restor❜d-
Of ease and fond delight.

The day is gone, the night's our own,
Then let us feast the soul;
If any care or pain remain,

Why, drown it in the bowl.

This world, they say, 's a world of woe;
But that I do deny :

Can sorrow from the goblet flow,

Or pain from beauty's eye?
The wise are fools with all their rules,
When they would joys control;
If life's a pain, I say again,

1

Let's drown it in the bowl.

That time flies fast the poet sings;

Then surely it is wise

In rosy wine to dip his wings,

And seize him as he flies.

This night is ours; then strew with flowers

The moments as they roll:

If any care or pain remain,

Why, drown it in the bowl.

DON'T SAY ONE THING AND MEAN

C. SWAIN.]

ANOTHER.

[Music by W. PALMER.

The little lane, the greenwood lane,

Where Mary dwelt, was gay with singing; For brook and bird in many a strain

Down vale and moor their notes were flinging;

But Mary's heart was deaf to song,

No longer she her tears could smother; For she had learnt at last 'twas wrong To say one thing and mean another.

'Tis right, 'tis due, when hearts are true, To show that heart without deceiving, And not to speak in idle freak

To try if one's the power of grieving.

In Mary's heart and Mary's mind
She loved one youth and loved no other;
But Mary's tongue was oft inclined

To say one thing and mean another.
Would all might see how sweet 'twould be
If truth alone their words directed:
How many a day might then be gay
That passeth now in tears dejected!
Would all might learn and all discern
That truth keeps longest friend or brother!
Then maids be kind and speak your mind,
Nor say one thing and mean another.

THE BARRING O' THE DOOR. ANONYMOUS.]

It fell about the Martinmas time,

And a gay time it was than,

[Scotch Air.

When our gude wife got puddings to mak',
And she boil'd them in the pan.

The wind sae cauld blew east and north,
It blew into the floor:

Quoth our gudeman to our gudewife,
66 Gae out and bar the door."

"My hand is in my hussy'f skap,
Gudeman, as ye may see;

An' it shou'd nae be barr'd this hundred year,
It's no be barr'd for me."

They made a paction 'tween them twa,
They made it firm and sure,
That the first word whae'er shou'd speak
Shou'd rise and bar the door.

Then by there came twa gentlemen
At twelve o'clock at night,

And they could neither see house nor hall,
Nor coal nor candle light.

"Now whether is this a rich man's house,
Or whether is it a poor?"

But never a word wad ane o' them speak,
For barring o' the door.

And first they ate the white puddings,
And then they ate the black;
Though muckle thought the gude wife to hersel',
Yet ne'er a word she spak'.

Then said the one unto the other,
"Here, man, tak' ye my knife;
Do ye tak' aff the auld man's beard,
And I'll kiss the gude wife."

"But there's nae water in the house,
And what shall we do than?"
"What ails ye at the puddin' broo
That boils into the pan ?"

Oh, up then started our gudeman,
And an angry man was he:
"Will ye kiss my wife before my een,
And scad me wi' pudding bree ?"

Then up and started our gudewife,
Gied three skips on the floor:
"Gudeman, ye've spoken the foremost word,-
Get up and bar the door."

THE WHISPERED WORD.

J. E. CARPENTER.]

[Music by C. W. GLOVER.

Where the breeze with the blossom was playing, And the bee woo'd the flowers in the dell, How I ventured alone to be straying

Is a secret I don't mean to tell; Who came there by chance is another That some day admitted may be, But the secret of all is, dear mother, The word that he whisper'd to me.

Did we ask of the wind, softly sighing,
What it whisper'd at eve to the flowers,
Don't you think that the breezes, replying,
Would say--that's a secret of ours?
So vows that in silence are spoken
If true, ne'er repeated should be,
And I know that 'twill never be broken,
The word that he whisper'd to me.

YOUTH'S FIRST LESSON.

E. L. BLANCHARD.]

[Music by L. PHILLIPS.

Laughing in the sunshine
Came a merry child,
Bee, and bird, and blossom,
Each in turn beguiled;
'Kerchief full of flowers,
Features full of joy,
Lightly o'er the meadows
Ran this happy boy.

Sporting in the sunshine,
Elfin of the spring,
Came a glittering butterfly
On its gauzy wing;
Swift the child pursued it,

And tripp'd, through heedless look:
All his scatter'd flowers

Went drifting down the brook.

Dreaming in the sunshine

Sat a gentle sage,
Watching youth's first lesson

In life's varied page;
"Thus," he said, "do mortals

Gather bitter fruit,

What is in possession

Losing in pursuit.”