For Gold The Merchant Ploughs The Main,

Then Gently Scan Your Brother Man, Still Gentler Sister Woman; Though They May Gang A Kennin' Wrang, To Step Aside Is Human.

Apropos, Is Not The Scotch Phrase 'auld Lang Syne' Exceedingly Expressive? I Shall Give You The Verses On The Other Sheet. The Words Of 'auld Lang Syne' Are Good, But The Music Is An Old Air, The Rudiments Of The Modern Tune Of That Name. ... Dare To Be Honest And Fear No Labor. ... Opera Is Where A Man Gets Stabbed In The Back, And Instead Of Dying, He Sings. ... Chords That Vibrate Sweetest Pleasure Thrill The Deepest Notes Of Woe. ... Critics! Those Cut-throat Bandits In The Paths Of Fame.

Be Briton Still To Britain True, Among Oursel's United; For Never But By British Hands Maun British Wrangs Be Righted.

Once Upon A Lammas Night When Corn Rigs Are Bonny, Beneath The Moon's Unclouded Light, I Held Awhile To Annie... The Time Went By With Careless Heed Between The Late And Early, With Small Persuasion She Agreed To See Me Through The Barley... Corn Rigs And Barley Rigs, Corn Rigs Are Bonny! I'll Not Forget That Happy Night Among The Rigs With Annie!

I Love Drinking Now And Then. It Defecates The Standing Pool Of Thought. A Man Perpetually In The Paroxysm And Fears Of Inebriety Is Like A Half-drowned Stupid Wretch Condemned To Labor Unceasingly In Water; But A Now-and-then Tribute To Bacchus Is Like The Cold Bath, Bracing And Invigorating.