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The following diagrams illustrate the method: Las cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour 6tre reproduites en un seul Ckich6 sont fiimdes d partir de I'angle supdrieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la mdthode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 mmmKam OH ■ ^'^. /'V'-" y1 Yf % POEMS BY RAN DMA Ggva N -A2£^?2^2r irt cries out aloud for thee ! I hear no other voice but thine. No other face I care to see. Forgive me I^oid ! if I repine O'er the flower you took to bloon' in heave 1 ; I know, the lovely flower was thine ; And only for a season given, Altho' no more, your lips can tell The love you had for me, Vou'r in Christ's fold, and all is well ; Grandma shall go to thee! I I HOME. Tlie soft wind scatters odors sweet, The I'ireflies ^(litter in the air, As on my moon-lit jijanlen seat, I breathe my evening prayer. Oh how I love this solitude ! When mind by care oppressed, And in sweet nature's quietude. My spirit findeth rest. Memory brings back long summer days ; I live the past all o'er again ; Again I climb the heathery braes, Again I'm back in my Scottish hame. I hear the echo of the I-'alls, I see old Tintac's cloudy peak ; I hear the Cuckoo's plaintive calls. And the Woodpecker's eager beat. I hear the Laverock in the lift ; Oh thou Ileaven-taughl bird divine, Why am I thus, of thee bereft ? Why came I to this distant clime? Why did I cross the icy bar. Where winter holds his sway so long? My Scottish home is fairer far ; Land of beauty, land of song. f: I A rapture that I cannot name Comes o'er me as my years grow brief ; Oh why does Mkmory still remain Twilling around my heart a wreath Of hawthorn bloom and heather bell ? Lethe, with all its mystic powers. Can never from my brain despel The fragrance of my mountain flowers. CLOUDS. Oh, beautiful clouds with fleecy wing! What pleasure ye to my memory bring As I watch you in the azure skies With uplifted spell, bound eyes. Till, in fancy inspired, I upward soar To a phantom ship, by a golden shore. And sail o'er a beautiful ether sea. Where the "White Island of the blest" maybe. On mountain side, I've sat for hours Gazing on palaces and towers. Sapphire thrones of beauty rare, And grim old " castles in the air." Till the spirit of a storm sublime Drove ethereal warblers from my clime ; Threw a pall o'er my outward being, And all my air-borne inward seeing. i888. Sweet Bells, I hear thy solemn tone, Which tells us the Old Year is gone ! Gone with its many hopes and fears ! Gone with the m3'riad fleeting 3'ears, To the vast unknown. Like an ice-hound brook, our unseen tears Flow sadly over our wasted years. .And joys we've known, no more to know, All fled like pictures made on snow. In days by-gone And now we welcome the new born king, The transient monarch of restless wing; Karth's guest is here, young P wand, And touch'd the trees, the fields and flowers; Peace reigns supreme all o'er the land, And glorious foliage fills our bowers. Trees standing still to greet the sun, With weight of fruit are bended low, Whisp'ring their summer's work is done ; And dew-kiss'd grapes luxuriant grow. Plenty has come, in golden showers, Down from a loving hand divine To these ungrateful hearts of ours, So prone to murmur and repine. Here in this sylvan solitude. All radiant with autumnal dyes, I praise the " Giver of All Good," With tremulous vo'ue and tear-dimm'd eyes. Korfend ! when angel reapers come To garner in the golden sheaves. That I. now in my setting sun. Have naught to give but withered leaves. MY COUNTRY'S TREE. See how my Maple waves her arms. So graceful, high in air ! With diamond bracelet ! glitteringcharms! And coronal so fair. She is a beauty, and a queen, In her angelic robe, — A radiant garb like hers, I ween, Came from the hand of God ! She's lovely in her white attire. And in her emerald green, In the garden of our primal sire Our Maple was the queen. England claims her royal oaks, With stately spreading boughs. And roots as firm as castle rocks, Staiinch as feudal vows ! I'd rather claim our Maple Belle With her locks of ruddy glow, " Trees have tongues," they own her spell In sylvan language low. The cypress, and the dusky pine. Reminds me I am clay ; And makes me look on " Father Time " and fret my hour away. But the golden gleam of my country's tree Wafts my soul on high, To the Eden prepared for "even me " In the eternal by and by. i A PLEA FOR THE POOR. Winter has come, wi' its cauld rain an' sleet, An' ill-clad hairnies shiver an' greet, Shiver an' greet, wi' hunger an' cauld, — Lord, ' temper the wind " to the lambs o' the fauld. My heart is sae wae when I meet I' the streets, Bonnie wee callants, wi' thin, raggit breeks, Rlae-frozen legs, shoon oot at the taes, — Oh ! had I the siller, I'd buy them a' claes! There's folk wha hae walth wadna part wi' a preen (Unless, it may be, gif-gaf wi' a' freen). Rut keec) a' they gather wi' miserly paws, " Saving a' their fish-guts for their ain sea maws." Ye gear-gatherin' mortals wha ne'er had a' fa'. Oh, help your puir neebor wha's back's at the wa' ; Dinna hoard up your gold to rear mansions an' towers, For Earth says to Earth, " All shall be ours ! " vSo ere ye are called on to cross the dark river, Gae, share your bawbees wi' your puir starvin' brither ; 'Twas to share wi' the needfu' you blessings were gi'en,- \Vi' ilk blessing gaes out there'll goupens come in. Noo, when auld Boreas blaws his cauld breath, Freezin' the lammiekin a' maist tae death. Oh, hear the Good Shepherd — lie speaks unto thee : " As ye do unto them, ye do unto Me. " i'.'SS*! THE SNOW-SHOERS. Hark ! the noise ! Oh, 'tis the Snow-Shoers, — Darling boys ! Glowing in health, Flowing in song, Let us cheer the dear lads as they r' tramping along Merry and gay In the beautiful moonlight, bright as the day. Breasting the breeze Nothing can freeze Darling boys! Your innocent joys. Happily singing, as onward you go Oh may your life's path be as pure as the snow. One down in a drift ! Give him your hand, Pull him out lovingly, Help him to stand, So also take share in the struggle and strife Of a poor fallen brother in his battle of life. Round by the mountain, Up to the Tines! Drink at the Fountain, Taste not the Wines ! Beware of the " Stirrup Cup," Brave boys and true Keep clean the Escutcheon of the gallant Tuques Blue. llffT n i\ 1889. Another year ! ah me ! Has cycled into Eternity. Anon, as we its requiem sing. We hear the shout, "God bless the King," The new born infant, Eighty-nine — The old hath fled in the mist of time. Now let us happy V)e, in the dear old way, Revelling in affection's voice to-day ; Oblivious of our heritage of sorrow. Leave life's dark combat till to-morrow, Give withering care into the hands divine (A happy; trusting heart, has fadeless prime, ) Tho' snowflakes gather high and cold. We'll joyous be as in days of old. While seated round our well piled fire, Let faith see our Eternal Sire, As gushing up from Memory's spring. We trace His bounteous hand, and softly sing The oft-repeated, oft-forgotten chant, " The Lord's my Shepherd, I shall not want.!' Let sunshine fill our souls anew. And bid each thankless sigh adieu, Pray God for peace of mind and spirit clear. And with that boon. He'll grant a smiling year. THE EMIGRANT'S NEW YEAR. Kare-weel to the year that's fast wearin' awa', Fare-weel to its poortith and sorrow. The fortune is brought, wae's me was but sma', The new ane may glint on us to morrow ! Last year I was hame on my ain heather hill, In our wee theekit house by the burn, 'Mang neebors I lo,ed, an' lo'e them a' still, An' I'm deein' o' grief to return ! I ken they a' wish me a Happy New Year, And speak o' the friends far awa' ; But little they ken o' what I thole here, Or the heart that is burstin' in twa'. Oh. why did I leave our snug " But an' Ben," Our bonnie kell-yard and the vSmiddy? Or what gar'd me sell, to help us out here, My twa grancie kye an' the cuddy ? Had I the wit then I think I ha'e noo I wadna be sabbin' an' murnin', But dark days may brighten e're the next year is through, It's " a laug lane that hasna' a turnin'." The Lord has been kind to spare my guid-man Through sickness that fell on us sair. He weighs a' our burdens' an' wunna' lay on But just what He kens we can bear. There was plenty o' room in our ain native soil For John an' the callants an' me. And John and the callants were willing to toil If the laird had just let us a-be. But the laird o' the manor maun hae braw hunting-grounds. And cared mair for his " game " and his " deer" ; He wanted the land for " Preserves " an' his hounds, And expatriated us here ! They say the "guid folk," will make hanies for the poor, God send it were this very day. For wi' strugglin' sae hard, wi' " the wolf at the door," Like the year we're fast wearin' away. Oh, if they'd begin what they said they would do, An' no daidle, but " do with their might," Many blythe hames v/here dark forests grow Would shine in God's blessed sun-light ! And my three bonnie laddies wha' weary and yammer. An' greet for their parritch an' kail, Would dance at the sound o'Dad's auld smiddy hammer — It's for them I am makin' this wail. Yes ; Geordie an' Jamie an' Sandy will grow Brave men, an' stalwart in body an mind. And pride whispers fondly auld Scotia may know What she's lost by losing sic men o'their kind. Hone bids me cheer the incoming year May chase a' our sorrows awa', And the joy it may bring will gar the "bush " ring Wi' praise frae the hearts o' us a'. To MR. W. CURRIE. All business carts I cast away, For this is William's Marriaj^c-day ; He gives to luc a Sister dear, Whose worth is known hotli far and near. O may she be a loviiij^ wife, .And reij^n the .liij^cl of his life. And their united hearts, the Shrine Of Matriiii->nial love divine. .•\nd may tVod's everlasting care, He ever round the happy pair. And the Silver Link that chains their Soul Ik' unbroken in the Heavenly goal. H Memory's treasured thoughts arise Of child-hood's home, 'neath Scottish Skies. Let your manly arm and cheery smile Be round Sweet Jessie of "Holy Isle." To MISS vSTEPHEN. I'ellow Pilgrims long we've been Upon this upward weary road, And the' we may faint-hearted seem, Prone to rest aud sleep and dream, Not " Pressing'' to our blest abode. Yet, He who is the " Life, the Way," Will not let His Pilgrims stray ! The' distant seems the Golden Gate, " They also serve the Lord who wait.' MY Fl.OWlCkS. My f^ank'ii Irtasures have j^om.' to rest. \yith a snowy iiiantli" o'er their breast; The first that ,'li'^li rose, of ruhy red ; Then foUovved lier sister, i)earl wliite. My (larliiiji little "Jacobite." A!ul " Loiidoii I'ride" fell to the dust. As "\V'eepiii)4 Willow " said she must; Her dying words were " None so pretty ; " This vanity excited pity I'Vom "Daisy" and " Violet," modest dears. 'iMiey bowed their heads to hide their tears. Wiiikinj^ Marijjolds close 1 their eyes. And JLja/.ed no lonj^er on the skies; "Sweet William" sighed and looked around, His " Columbine " lay on the j,'rouud ; And such a chan^^e came o'er Miss Moss, .'^he jfrew so sallow, sear, and cross. My Scottish Thistle, proudly wa\ inj( I'lvery storm and tempest Ijraving ; He cares not tho' Old l?oreas raj^es, .\s Scotia's sons will do for ages; My loyal heart so longs to press it, Hut " Nemo me im])nne lacessit. My blooming " Primrose." you shall rest With me, within my sanctum nest; Precious gift, from dear wee " Flo," Precious flower, I love you so, .\lmost above all things terrestrial, My lovely, sweet, " mild-eyed celestial. Ah, nie ! I well nigh had forgot My g )lden-eyed I'orget-me-not ! .Say, little elf, shall we e'er meet Again, beside the g.-irden seat. Sweet treasured flowers, since we ilid part. Deep winter lies within my heart. THI-: OKA INDIANS. .\rise and help the Oka braves. Who dwell beside their fathers' graves; A sorrowing sile:ice wraps them round. They cling unto the hallowed ground. Let holy strength within you rise; Frustrate the Okas' enemies ; Look on your Indian brother's face That sadness is not commonplace. The Christian Indians and their chief. Can stand erect, e'en in their grief: Tnd while they claim their Ood-given land Ahey'll take no gift from Primate h . id. They'll fight, as Christians fight alway, The fight of faith ; they'll watch and pray, .Vnd Ood will hear their burdened cry, We hold the fort, the Lord is nigh. <^licntluii.Kt.) Miss Ivucy Lettuce retired to bed One evening when the sky was red, Bye-and-by Miss Lucy arose, And dress'd herself in her finest clothes Of delicate green and muzy brown, The sweetest maiden in Garden Town. She called to her neighbour. Miss Polly Pea, ' Polly, I am invited out to tea." I heard cook say to John in the stable, ' Bring Lucy Lettuce in to table." And what do you think, that sour old sinner, Miss Rachel Rhubarb, was out to dinner. She piques herself on her pedigree. And her fo^ gie old relative " Gregorv." She's but ? vulgar village fixture ; All makf. grimaces at her mixture. Bah ! thr: meanest grubs in Garden Town Shy from //^r with scornful frown. But Polly, I wish that you and I Could be as easily passed by. I noticed this morning, when you arose. How pale and pinched was the curl on your nose Those loafing dudes, the worms, I fear. Are undermining your health, my dear. There's our cousins Cabbage, on the next block. You know they have come of a hardy stock. Well, those very same scamps, I hear folks say. Revel and feast with them night and day ; So this riotous life and " do as-you-please," Was ended in hopeless heart disease .' vSee Celia Celery tall and fair. Aristocratic in her air. She is the elite of (xarden Town, With green top-knots and ecru gown. Why should she feel so very crusty, I've seen her look both old and rustv. And she looks down with haughty mein Oh dear, wee, modest Betty Bean. I'Viend of the great Bonanza King, The muscle of stalwart western men Was got from thee, thou peerless gem. Could I compare you with such trash As wishy-washy Suky Squash ? Oh, I should feel myself a felon To equal thee to Watermelon. Look ! Pat Potatoe ope's his eyes. While I laud Betty to the skies. And vSissy Sage, a very Plato, With flaring red-headTom Tomato Miss Onion, you are too impresive ; I'll pass you, lest I weep excessive. Tho' mummies bowed to you the knee, I cannot choose but turn from thee And leave thee with thy Leeks and Garlick. Come near me and you'll find me warlike. Patrick Parsley, if you knew How ancient builders copied you. Your Gothic leaf I've traced on tombs — Seen carved on grandly pillared domes — And " Parsley Peel," the weaver chief. His daughter traced thy lovely leaf ; On costly fabrics now we see Designs of foliage all from thee. An, who is he theie by the wall. Poising and bowing to Old Soi? The Sunflower, looking proudly mild Since patronized by Oscar Wilde. He's warning me 'tis growing late, And Father Thyme rejects to wait — Nurse Dolly Dew is hastening down To bathe the maids of Garden Town. ' i * THE FAIRIICS' BAZAAR. Two fairy sprites, Carrie and Clare, Resolved to hold a j^arden Fair, And serve to Butterflies and Bees Just what they love, and what would please. iio, 'neath the maples, wide and tall, Kach placed a pretty tiny stall, With such a fraj^rant bright array Of condiments, and flowers so gay. Then came the fussy wandering Bees, For Honey-s.ickle or Sweet Pease ; Bu/.zing around, from stall to stall. Intent were tliey on gobbling all. Fluttering came gay Butterflies, In golden robes, and starry eyes, Made a hasty lunch on " vStock " And hovered off; a happy flock. Old neighbour Toad came limping past. Ah, ha ! cried he, I see at last Where I'll get something for the throat. My cousin Frog, has such a croak. And while upon my stool I rest. Put up some Balsam, of the best, Spruce-gum too, roll up with it, 'Twill cure nit of my hated spit, Poor little Toad ! I'll bind your limb With Ribbon C.rass, its just the thing, (Oh, why do wicked boys throw stones To give you pain and broken bones?) There's grand Old Man, and Father Thyme, Sweet William too, and Columbine, Ladies' Slippers, with velvet bows, (No thimble heels, no needle toes !) Coxcombs too ! we have a score Very cheap ! they're such a bore. Bachelor Buttons, by the gross. And oh, such green inviting Moss ! Pine needles too, for sewing leaves Just the same as mother Fa'c's, They're also good for sewing Tares Such as the Ragged Sailor wears. Here's Juniper, from overhead Where old FHijab wished him dead, The Wandering Jew brought from afar, On Thistle down s light aerial car! And vSea-weeu, from God's public highway. Foxglove from dame nature's by--vay ; See the lovely Golden-rod Pointing up to nature's God. And here's green Shatnrock. from /Armagh. Crush'd by the Saxon I.ion's paw ! The clouds are cradling round the sun. The Fairie's long day's work is done. I";ach takes her little spruce pine pillow. And goes to rest beneath the willow ; The lovely orphan ! Queen of night ! Will shine o'er them, till morning light. B TO MISS L. O- IvOttie dear your lovely flowers, Foretaste to me of holy bowers, Where Hyacinths and lyillies vSpring To greet the smiling of the King. Tho' I am wearing nigh the brink Of all that's mortal, your sweet link Of fragrant flowers lifts up my Soul Unites me to the !)lcssed Whole. Of all that is prepared for me The Golden Streets, the Jasper vSea ! The Tree of Life, the Pearly Gate Where loved ones gone before now wait. Thanks dear friend for these sweet flowers, Recalling many youthful hours With Nature and with Nature's God I've spent along lifes' weary road, LONGED FOR SUMMER. Sununer days have come at last — I've wearied for their coming ; The swallow bands are sweeping past, And wandering bees are humming. The robins carol on the boughs Of my stately pussy willow ; The very lowing of the cows Makes the air feel mellow. The school boy's shout at bat and l)all Shows dreary winter's over, That would-be mother with her doll, .\nd happy, scampering Rover. Oh ! could I but walk again Throughout that clover field, Along the road and down the lane, What pleasure it \vould yield ! But here I lie, a stricken soldier, Who in life's battle struggled long; Salvation's armor on my shoulder, Until my Captain calls me home. Gladly shall I leave the field. For my Great Physician's .sleeping V)alm l"*or by His stripes I shall be healed, Then, oh, the crown ! the robe ! the balm ! Gr.ani)M.\ Gowax. I * « t i THE HEATHEN CHINEE." XVhen Sandy ga'ed hame vvi' the washing yestreen, The callant cam back again rubbin his e'en Wi' his raggit coat sleeve, an' his heart like to biak.— " The leddy " had tauhl h ni he " needna come back ; " For tho' that the washin' had ne'er failed to please. She would send a' her claes to the Heathen Chinese. Weel ken'd that leddy his father was deed, That his puir widowed mither was toilin' for bread ; B t little she kent, an' less did she care Kor the hunger she caused, an' the hearts she made sair. Her reason was only, " Chinese can wash cheaper," An' lo ked what she thought, "Am I my brither's keeper ? " Oh, Sandy, my laddie, what can I dae mair, Unless, aiblins, I shave off a' my gray hair, An' stick an auld switch tae the croon o' my head, — Onything, onything, laddie, for bread — An' change the guid name o' auld Tibby Gun To the new-fangled ane o' Fee-fa-Fum. " An' crook in my feet tae Sandy's auld shion ( But their oot at the taes an' winna hand in). An' your daddy's long sack, tied round wi' his sash, Would bring in the washin', mair than I could wash ; Ha ! I kent. when I joked about changin my name, You would laugh like the sunshine after the r^i" " Weel, I dinna wish wrang to the queer blinkin craturs, Sae lang's they'll no tak tae sellin' the papers ; For .Sandy, ye ken, they bring in the bawbees, An' it waurna for them, we often wad freeze ; And the flannels an' boots, frae the friends o' the WiTNKSs, Were sic a great boon, and held awa sickness. " So Sandy, my laddie, be honest an' true. The Lord has been guid, and He'll bring us through; We manna be downcast, or sit douii an' wae. But aye put a stout heart untae a stey brae ; When God feeds the ravens He disna forget The widow an' orphan — they aye get a bit ! " m TO MY GANE BILLY'S PORTRAIT. Oh ! my twin-brother Ne'er shall another Caress me or bless me So fondly as thou ; Ne'er was that loving e'e R'er kent to frown on me, Meekness and truth niark'd thy clear manly brow. When thou wer't in darkness laid Wrapp'd in thy Jenny's plaid An' a her dark tresses laid on thy breast Lonely an' comfortless Reft o' a' happiness Oh, how she longed to share in thy rest ! Years noo have come and gone Still I am sad and lone, And I " fade like a cloud that hasoutwept its rain.' 'Tis life that divides us I'path will unite us, Then oh, how I'll cling to my Billy again ! i8qo. I'a^her time, of hoary age, Appears again upon life's stage, Withdraws old eighty-nine from view As ninety makes his grand debut ; And shouts his prologue to the world Mid din of bells, and flags unfurled. Hear our youthful king's ovation. His promises to every nation ; He speaks of ending Ireland's ills. Repeal eviction and coercion bills, Give back to Ireland national life. And equal laws to end its strife. Why should our brethren weep and cower ' Neath the sad abuse of power? (God grant ere vengeful thoughts grow strong And Ireland avenge its hated wrong :) Ah! from the gulf of gloom Hope's silvery rays Give a redeeming trace of better days. Points to the land of the Sitting Sun, And the mighty brotherhood in one ; He frowns on " trusts" and combination. Favors equal rights and emigration — The blending of all human kind In one grand universal mind ! Talks of a " Fraternal Union " O'er the Almighty's vast dominion ; In the millennium era, this may be. When the angel stands on earth and sea. With uplifted hand the world o'er. And swears that time shall be no more. MORNING. Hail bright harbinj^er of day ; Resplondent orb of light ' Whose golden beams doth chase away The sable shrouded night. The crystal dew hangs on the flowen^, How sweet the glowing thorn, Ah ! who could waste, in sleep, nuch hours. ' The cheerful dawn of morn.' The feather'd songsters of the air. Their matin hymn doth raise. The warbling little brooks declare The great Cieator's praise. The flowers in ecstacy upfling Their fragiant incense high, Alas ! that man should fail to sing A holy psalm of joy ! Ari.se, and greet the new born rays, And climb the upland lea, Join in nature's song of praise, In nature's Jubilee ! HOPE. I hear the north wind sigh, and say, Soon I'll bring frost and snow. I bid farewell to my flowers to-day, Sweet treasures ! must you go. I may not see you here again, And ere my roses bloom. Kind hearts, whose love shall never wane. May plant thee near my tomb. Flowers lovelier than mortal thing ! I'd sleep, if thou wert near; And all arouid thy fragrance fling. And drop a crystal tear. — What's loved in life; may it be given (If humble the request) To roam 'mongst flowers in the fields of heaven. With garlands for the blest ! Garlands, to hang on the harps of gold Of my loved ones lost, and found. Now safe within the Shepherd's fold, Where joy and peace abound. Sweet sadness leads me to the throne. My aching heart to still, To make my mute petitions known, And hear His kind " I will." Oh happy hope through endless years, I'll sing again their lullaby, For God will change my sighs and tears Into a deathless' melody ! N. AUTUMN. Maternal I