Epigrams.

Bad temper is an odious thing,
Deny it if you can;
It mars the peace of happy homes,
And makes a beast of man.

page 17

Frail humankind is nothing more
Than dust upon the ground;
A puff of wind will blow away
Man, no more to be found.

When King Death shall summon us,
We must obey his call;
For as by sin man was raised,
So by sin he must fall.

'Tis wisdom in this troubled life
To do all we can;
To serve God with righteousness,
And not injure man.

page 18

On the evening of the 31st December, 1877, I with two friends agreed not to retire to rest till after the birth of the New Year. It was also understood that we should honour the event with a "feu de joie"! but, alas, friendly agreements, like national treaties, are made to be broken, for about 10 p.m. a third friend dropped in bringing with him a "big treat," to wit, one dozen of real good beer; and, as was natural on so auspicious an occasion, we uncorked and drank till a sense of drowsiness stole o'er our rather sensitive feelings, causing us to seek our beds, forgetting the "fair promises" we had made, till the following day, about 12 a.m., when I remembered and felt somewhat annoyed at Bacchus for his audacity, and consoled my wounded feelings by offering the following apology to the newly-born year:—

Pardon, eighteen seventy-eight,
My compliments, tho' rather late,
Are none the less sincere;
Old Bacchus with majestic pomp
Would have me join in merry romp
With right good bottled beer;
Therefore I pray thee be not hard
Upon thy evil-doing bard.
Prosper'ty be the tok'n;
Then throughout thy twelvemonths reign
Nought will I do that is profane.
'Tis my tongue that's spoken.