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.