Oh, the golden days of the brave old world Made hall and cottage shine; The squire he sat in his oaken chair, And quaff’d the good red wine; The lovely village maiden, She was the village queen, And, by the mass, tript through the grass To the May-pole on the green. When trumpets roused this brave old world, And banners flaunted wide, The knight bestrode the stalwart steed, And the page rode by his side. And plumes and pennons tossing bright Dash’d through the wild mêlée, And he who prest amid them best Was lord of all, that day. And ladies fair, in the brave old world, They ruled with wondrous sway; But the stoutest knight he was lord of right, As the strongest is to-day. The baron bold he kept his hold, Her bower his bright ladye, But the forester kept the good greenwood, All under the forest tree. Oh, how they laugh’d in the brave old world, And flung grim care away! And when they were tired of working They held it time to play. The bookman was a reverend wight, With a studious face so pale, And the curfew bell, with its sullen swell, Broke duly on the gale. And so passed on, in the brave old world, Those merry days and free; The king drank wine and the clown drank ale, Each man in his degree. And some ruled well and some ruled ill, And thus passed on the time, With jolly ways in those brave old days When the world was in its prime. * * * * * THOUGHTS ON MUSIC. BY HENRY COOD WATSON. From whence does the Musician draw his inspiration? This question is often asked, but seldom correctly answered. Music, as a science, is but little understood. The importance of its detail is not considered, because its effects are not examined, by the appreciating eye of knowledge. To common observers, music possesses no feature worthy of consideration, beyond an accidental succession of notes, which gives a pleasing sensation to the ear, without intention or design. Most persons believe that they could write music, if they only knew their notes. To “turn” a melody is the easiest thing in life, and all the adjuncts, harmony and instrumentation, are merely mechanical parts of the art, which every one might learn. This is a popular and very gross error. Music is either a simple succession of relative intervals, which form a melody, or an aggregate of consonant or dissonant sounds, which produces a harmony. These two combined, form a vehicle for the expression of the passions of the human heart, more forcible and more truthful, than the noblest works of either the painter or the poet.