GOOD BYE.
When from the friend we dearly love
Fate tells us we must part,
By speech we can but feebly prove
The anguish of the heart.
And no soft words, howe'er sincere,
Can half so much imply,
As that suppress'd, though trembling tear,
Which drowns the word—Good bye.
Warwick. W.S.
A keen shopkeeper, having in his service a couple of shopmen, who in point of intellect, were the very reverse of their master, a wag who frequented the shop, for some time puzzled the neighbourhood by designating it a "music-shop," although the proprietor dealt as much in music as in millstones. However, being pressed for an explanation, he said that the scale was conducted by a sharp, a flat and a natural; and if these did not constitute "music," he did not know what did.
ISSACCAR.