She flits about big Moses Brown,

Who holds her hands to keep her down
And thinks her hair a golden crown

And his heart turns over once!
His cheek with Mary's breath is wet,
It gives a second somerset!

He means to win the maiden yet,

Alas, for the awkward dunce!

"Your stoga boot has crushed my toe!"
"I'd rather dance with one-legged Joe!"
"You clumsy fellow!" Pass below!"
And the first pair dance apart.
Then "Forward six !" advance, retreat,
Like midges gay in sunbeam street
"Tis Money Musk by merry feet

And the Money Musk by heart! "Three quarters round your partner swing!" "Across the set!" The rafters ring, The girls and boys have taken wing

And have brought their roses out! "Tis "Forward six!" with rustic grace, Ah, rarer far than-" Swing to place!" Than golden clouds of old point-lace They bring the dance about. Then clasping hands all-" Right and left" All swiftly weave the measure deft Across the woof in loving weft

And the Money Musk is dore!

Oh, dancers of the rustling husk,

Good-night, sweethearts, 'tis growing dusk, Good-night for aye to Money Musk,

For the heavy march begun!

Part Nineteenth.

Each of the Four Numbers of

"100 Choice Selections" contained in this volume is paged separately, and the Index is made to correspond therewith. See EXPLANATION on first page of Contents.

The entire book contains nearly

1000 pages.

100

CHOICE SELECTIONS.

No. 19.

WELCOME TO THE NATIONS.-O. W. HOLMES.
SUNG AT PHILADELPHIA, JULY 4, 1876.

Bright on the banners of lily and rose,
Lo, the last sun of our century sets!

Wreathe the black cannon that scowled on our foes,
All but her friendships the Nation forgets-
All but her friends and their welcome forgets!
These are around her: But where are her foes?
Lo, while the sun of her century sets,
Peace with her garlands of lily and rose!

Welcome! a shout like the war trumpet's swell
Wakes the wild echoes that slumber around;
Welcome! it quivers from Liberty's bell;

Welcome! the walls of her temple resound.
Hark! the gray walls of her temple resound;
Fade the far voices o'er hill-side and dell;
Welcome, still whisper the echoes around;
Welcome, still trembles on Liberty's bell.

Thrones of the Continents! Isles of the Sea!
Yours are the garlands of peace we entwine;
Welcome, once more, to the land of the free,
Shadowed alike by the palm and the pine;
Softly they murmur, the palm and the pine,
"Hushed is our strife, in the land of the free;"
Over your children their branches entwine,
Thrones of the Continents! Isles of the Sea!
QQQQQ*

ORMOLU'S TENEMENT HOUSE.-FITZ JAMES O'BRIEN.

A nice little dinner at Ormolu's;
A chosen few, and no ladies there:
Every man is a millionaire,

With ample waistcoat and creaking shoes.
The dinner, of course, is a great success-
Dinners at Ormolu's always are-

From the delicate bisque to the caviare,
And the wild boar's head in its gaudy dress.
But better than all is the rich dessert,

The season of large, well-fed repose,
When calm delight through the system flows,
And the brain deliciously lies inert.

Then the rich man sits in his easy chair,
And dreamily sees his houses and gold
In long processions of wealth unrolled,
Like caravans crossing the fields of air.
Wine and walnuts, walnuts and wine;

Big grapes frosted with purple bloom,
Odors floating all over the room
From ruby claret and leathery Rhine;
Crystal goblets of flint-like grain

Flashing the light through a thousand prisms,

And full of the tawny, unctuous chrisms

That ooze from the oily vines of Spain.

Fleshy clusters of rich bananas,

Citrons drowning in sirops of amber;

And, curling cloudily through the chamber,
Faint blue smoke from the fresh Havanas.

Over the wine the chat goes round-
English consols and Erie stock;
The newest invention, a patent lock,
And how the Paragon Bank's unsound.
Money, money on every tongue;

How to make it and how to lose it,
How to keep it and how to use it—
All the changes are duly rung.
Every guest round that shining board
Only dreams of dollars and cents,
Only dreams of the rise in rents,
Only thinks of his gathering hoard.