200 FARMERS' INSTITUTES. 



'* We are but women. What can women do ? " 

 My soul made answer: "All she wishes to." 

 It is but true when women want more " rights " 

 They've nauglit to do but fake them ; for all heights. 

 All depths, ail breadths, all compass that she will, 

 What place so e'er she chooses she can till. 



Time was when mankind said to her, " thus far 



And no whit farther. There we place a bar; 



And it would be unwomanly to try 



'J'o overstep the bounds or pass them by." 



But now the answer is, to all, so plain 



None may repeat the words of this refrain. 



*' What can a woman do ? " One need but ask 

 What's to be done? No matter what the task 

 Or what required. Be it courage, skill, 

 Patience, discretion, wisdom, strength or will, 

 Through every avenue she enters in. 

 Where women fail, men need not hope to win. 



MUSIC. 



BY MRS. CANNON. 



Let muaic bring its soothing power 

 And hallowed make the twilight hour. 

 In times of peace or scenes of strife 

 How much like music is our life ? 

 Each life is like a wondrous melody, 



Or short or long ; 

 A wailing crj' at first and then a dirge 



Closes hfe's song. 

 Sometimes so long drawn out and sorrowful. 



We wish no more ; 

 Sometimes one short, sweet, perfect strain 



And life is o'er. 

 When hearts are young and happy hope will sing 



Light on her way. 

 Entrancing airs caroled in silvery tone 



The livelong day. 

 As wiser, deeper, holier thoughts arise 



Grand anthems roll, 

 Chorus of melody in volume comes, 



Thrilling the soul. 

 But discords spoil the harmony ere long, 



A grating jar ; 

 Life's toil and trouble nmrmmrs through the song. 



Its beauties mar. 

 Then minor chords in mournful cadence wail 



A low, sad strain. 

 In plaintive quavers softly dies away 



Life's last refrain. 



