Favorite Songs and Hymns For School and Home, page: 0206

450 Of The World's Best Songs And Hymns, With Lyrics & Sheet music for voice & piano.

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	IN tome communities the want of an appreciation of music is made very apparent. Selfishness, impo�liteness and clownishness, are often manifested to an unpardonable degree when a young lady is called to the piano. The first note struck is taken by the rest of the company as a signal for loud conversation and uproarious laughter. When she has finished, it would often be difficult for many of the company to tell whether she had played the "Danube Waltzes" or " Yankee Doodle." Common civility should, in the parlor or in the concert hall, require at least respectful attention. We are aware that the number of third and even tenth-rate musicians in the world is large. Many young ladies who consider themselves adepts in the art of music seem to regard a discord as satis�factory as a chord. How many " proficients " in music	would be speechless from ignorance if called upon to define gamut! how many wonld almost swoon if called upon to run it! And yet, notwithstanding all this, impoliteness or rudeness is quite inexcusable. The difference in musical taste is sometimes due to a peculiarly nervous constitution, or to the depressed or elated condition of the mind. Grief is often soonest solaced by a lively air; hilarity best controlled by a plaintive one. But, after all, that which influences-musical taste, or any kind of taste, most is education. Teach children to admire the sublime and the beau�tiful in nature. At the home fireside and in th« school-room, everywhere, children should be instruc ted in music. Correct taste in music flings wide the gate to the highway of all that is beautiful, noble and good. Among the fine arts it stands foremost.
	THE OLD OAKEN BUCKE	T.	E. Kaillmark. Samuel Wcodworth.
	That moss-covered bucket I hailed as a treasure, For often at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell, Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well. The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.	How sweet from the green, mossy brim to receive it* As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips! Not a full-blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it* Tho' filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips. And now, far removed from the loved habitation, The tear of regret will intrusively swell, As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket that hung in the well; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hangs in the welL