Favorite Songs and Hymns For School and Home, page: 0289

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

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It may be laid down as a general rule that smoking is a bad habit for the singer, male or female�for there are females who are proud of being able to smoke cigarettes nowadays! With many instances of great singers before us, who have also been great smokers, it is impossible to say decidedly that singers must not smoke; but the habit is one to be very cautiously in�dulged in. If smoking in any case induces expecto�ration, it should at once be given up, for the habit of spitting, to which some smokers allow themselves to give way, is in reality, perhaps the great evil of smok�ing; it weakens the throat, lungs and chest. Avoid late hours. You require, not only a certain amount of sleep, but to take that sleep before the body and mind are at all overtaxed. From many causes, it is well
known, that the human frame is always at its lowest vital energy from about 2 a.m. till 5 a.m. and the nearer you approach these hours in going to bed, the less able are you to derive all the benefit which you require from sleep. Twelve o'clock is late enough for any one. Another reason why late hours are bad is connected not with physical facts so much as with morals. It is true, you may come to no actual harm, or get into no positive evil, by being out late at night, but you place yourself in a position of risk�risk of cold, over-fatigue, inhaling vitiated atmosphere, etc., as well as risk to moral character, which latter, in its way as delicate as the voice, is injured not only by actual violation of right, but by all society, conversa�tion, and literature which tend at all to mar its purity.
National Air.
And there I see a swamping gun, Large as a log of maple,
Upon a mighty little cart; A load for father's cattle.
And every time they fired it off, It took a horn of powder;
It made a noise like father's gun, Only a nation louder.
And there I see a little keg, Its heads all made of leather,
They knocked upon't with little To call the folks together, [sticks,
And Cap'n Davis had a gun, He kind o' clapt his hand on 't,
And stuck a crooked stabbing iron Upon the little end on 't.
The troopers, too, would gallop up, And fire right in our faces;
It scared me almost half to death To see them run such races.
It scared me so I hooked it off, Nor stopped, as I remember,
Nor turned about till I got home, Locked up in mother's chamber.
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