"There are three ways in which men take One's money from his purse, And very hard it is to tell Which of the three is worse; But all of them are bad enough To make a body curse. You're riding out some pleasant day, And counting up your gains; A fellow jumps from out a bush, And takes your horse's reins; Another hints some words about A bullet in your brains. It's hard to meet such pressing friends In such a lonely spot; It's very hard to lose your cash, But harder to be shot; And so you take your wallet out, Though you had rather not. Perhaps you're going out to dine, Some filthy creature begs You'll hear about the cannon-ball That carried off his pegs; He says it is a dreadful thing For men to lose their legs. He tells you of his starving wife, His children to be fed, Poor little lovely innocents. All clamorous for bread; And so you kindly help to put A bachelor to bed. You're sitting on your window-seat, Beneath a cloudless moon; You hear a sound that seems to wear The semblance of a tune, As if a broken fife should strive To drown a cracked basoon. And nearer, nearer still, the tide Of music seems to come, There's something like a human voice And something like a drum; You sit in speechless agony Until your ear is numb. Poor 'home, sweet home,' should seem to be A very dismal place, Your 'auld acquaintance,' all at once Is altered in the face-- * * * * * * * * * * But hark! the air again is still, The music all is ground; It cannot be--it is--it is-- A hat is going round! No! Pay the dentist when he leaves A fracture in your jaw; And pay the owner of the bear, That stunned you with his paw; And buy the lobster that has had Your knuckles in his claw; But if you are a portly man, Put on your fiercest frown, And talk about a constable To turn them out of town; Then close your sentence with an oath, And shut the window down! And if you are a slender man, Not big enough for that, Or, if you cannot make a speech, Because you are a flat, _Go very quietly and drop A button in the hat_!" Excellent advice! How many hats there are--and not of music-grinders only--in which we should be delighted to see the button dropped! The next in order is very good, and equally intelligible on this side of the Atlantic. We give the greater part of it:-- THE TREADMILL SONG. "They've built us up a noble wall, To keep the vulgar out; We've nothing in the world to do, _But just to walk about_; So faster now, you middle men, And try to beat the ends, Its pleasant work to ramble round Among one's honest friends.