From thc LouIsvIIIe Journal.
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Let us drink--in the bowl is no treas5li- No malice prepense in good cheer From our head if 1t pilfer the reason, 4. It ct least leaves our hearts more sincere. \ toast, or song, or story Of woman can neer come amiss; For ,woman's the theme and the glory Or man in a moment like this. Whatever the future may promise Whatever the present may give There is something they cannot take from us, While woman and memory live. With their signing and sobbing and weeping, All day they are all that they sesm- But, Lord pardon themt when they are sleep

 ing,

 There is no telling what they won't dream. Of women, dear mystical cfsatures, The Teian ] never believed Who can look on their forms and their fea-

 lures,

 And dream he will e'er be deceived. When they're saddest, they sing like lif-

 net

 When they're false, they betray with a

 tear; Their lips can pledge more in minute, Than their hearts can redeem in year. They shrink when their bosoms are boldest, And blush to dissemble their wiles-- They smile when their hearts are the coldest, And man Is seduced by their smiles. With their sighing and sobbing and weeping, All day they are all that they seem; But, Lord pardon them! when they are sleep

 ing,

 There is no telling what they won't dream.

 J. Yet we love them--how madly how blindly For love sees no faults, so they say But all We could blame Is most kindly Concealed from our eyes all the day- We have glimpses of grace in the morning. We have roses and raptures at noon, Our brows and our bosoms adornng- And bliss by the light of the moon. We have spells that we would not have bro-

 ken

 We have raptures and wishes suppress d. We have thoughts that have never been spo-

 ken

 We have looks--they imagine the rest. With their sobbing and signing and weeping, All day they are all that they seem. But Lord pardon them! when they are sleep

 ing,

 There is no telling what they won't dream.