S^llM-fW ■ M<^1E^ 
 
LEISURE 
 MOMENTS 
 
 0}$ 
 
 (S'oxS C?oSi) cS'^oNS (/oHJO (/o^b 
 
 SALMON- MACLEAN 
 
 % 
 
 ^ Wo cQP?o ^^^?^ ci\oyo cHO."fo ^JoX^ v,^^ 5^^0(0 '-''S'vO '-'Iot'o '^^^ip'^9A 
 
 'o^(^ 
 
 ON^OOXSli Q>0^ O V-lO O HJJIS O 
 
 BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO. 
 835 Broadway, New York 
 
-t;^;:; -■) ^%^ 
 
 ,11 2h'\ 
 
 L 
 
 1^"^ 
 
 Copyright. 1908, 
 
 BY 
 
 SALMON-MACLEAN 
 
 All rifrhts reserved. 
 
 248 6 64 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Risen City i 
 
 A Stricken City (Postscript Verses).... ii 
 
 A Translation from Horace (Odes i, 5) 13 
 
 The Bachelor's Button 14 
 
 To the Dewdrop 15 
 
 To Maidie 16 
 
 Maid of the Indies (an Acrostic).' 17 
 
 With My Yellow Rose 19 
 
 My Daughter, Oh, My Daughter 20 
 
 To Baby C , . 23 
 
 Music's Part • 24 
 
 A Phantom Storm 26 
 
 To Birdie 28 
 
 Ethlyn Ker 31 
 
 Not There Was Solitude 37 
 
 To Kitty 39 
 
 In Memoriam 41 
 
 The Siege of Quebec 43 
 
 Gettysburg 49 
 
 Insecurity 52 
 
 Sonnets :^ 
 
 If •- 53 
 
 Never 54 
 
ii Contents. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A-Mating 55 
 
 To Conscience 57 
 
 Patience 59 
 
 At Eastertide 61 
 
 Christmas Chimes 62 
 
 Odes to the Seasons 65 
 
 Evening Hymn 69 
 
 Anthem: ''God Bless Our Island Home". 70 
 
Lovingly dedicated to my friends* 
 
**The poet's age is sad: for why? 
 
 In youth, the natural world could show 
 No common object but his eye 
 
 At once involved with alien glow — ^ 
 His own soul's iris-bow." 
 
 — Robert Browning. 
 
PREFATORY NOTES. 
 
 "A Risen City," which appears between 
 these covers, is, properly speaking, only a se- 
 quel to that poem, *'A Stricken City," pub- 
 lished in the Autumn of 1907, in a little volume 
 entitled A Stricken City. 
 
 At first I thought it well to lend the title, 
 A Risen City, to this selection ; but seeing that 
 the writing of these poems had been the occu- 
 pation of my spare moments, and hoping that 
 they may be found fit for the filling up of 
 many a leisure hour, I have decided to use 
 Leisure Moments as the title of this book. 
 
 Since each of the two poems, mentioned 
 above, may be regarded as two separate cantos 
 of one poem, I may safely include here the 
 verses, which I composed after the manuscripts 
 of A Stricken City had left my hands, and 
 which would be duly inserted in some future 
 printing of that poem. 
 
 Of the remaining pieces, there are only a 
 few, which lend themselves to the building up 
 of what may be suggestive of a story: with 
 that end in view, therefore, I have chosen the 
 translation from Horace as the introductory 
 
ii Introduction 
 
 piece and "To Birdie" as that, with which the 
 tale should end. In grouping the rest, I have 
 paid respect to the relationship of their subject- 
 matter. 
 
 I remember, quite well, that there are the 
 standard authors and other authors of illustri- 
 ous note to select from, so that in presenting 
 this collection to the public, I do not wish it to 
 be thought that I am claiming the attention bet- 
 ter paid to them. I owe an apology, however, 
 to those whom I may wear}^ with these lines; 
 but I shall take this opportunity to thank those, 
 who, finding within these pages some entertain- 
 ment for a leisure hour, will deign to listen to 
 me. 
 
 For the sake of those who would sing the 
 anthem, "God Bless Our Island Home," suf- 
 fices it to say that the tune I had in mind, when 
 I was composing it, was that sung to "God 
 Bless the Prince of Wales." 
 
 January, 1909. J. A. S.-M. 
 
Leisure Moments 
 
 A RISEN CITY. 
 
 **Pallu<ifi Mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum 
 
 iabernas 
 Regnmnque turres/' 
 
 HORACIS. 
 
 '* Already, labouring with a mighty fate, 
 
 She shakes the rubbish from her mounting 
 brow 
 And seems to have rene^cv'd her charter's date. 
 Which Heaven will to the death of Time 
 allow, 
 
 *'More great than human now, and more au-^ 
 
 gust, 
 
 Now deified she from her fires does rise : 
 
 Her widening streets on new foundations trust. 
 
 And, opening, into larger parts she flies." 
 
 ' — Dryden. 
 
 The gloom, which hid thee, city, once bereft 
 Of life and fertile hours, has wholly left, 
 In this dim twilight, lines of Beauty's form—* 
 
2 L:^isuRE Moments 
 
 A rescue from the billows, after storm; 
 
 For, 'midst the shadows, some did toil and 
 
 toil. 
 By Hope's bright rays, and leave, above the 
 
 soil. 
 The monument to Faith and Duty, join'd, 
 Which sable-shielded Night has left behind. 
 
 There, in yon glade high guarded by those 
 
 hills. 
 The Rio Cobre gurgling drowns his rills ; 
 And innocent, yet with a murd'rous hand. 
 He waters free broad fields at man's command, 
 As through paths drill'd and dredged he con- 
 stant pours 
 The wealth unbounded of his num'rous stores. 
 Whilst still the shades of those, who breathed 
 
 their last 
 Within his iron throat, would stand aghast 
 As unavenged, his honour doth remain 
 A star to light each shade that would maintain 
 Within thy streets for Darkness his glad reign, 
 Should local voltage die with redd'ning wane. 
 His romp and laughter gladden visits paid 
 To where Jove placed his forges in that glade; 
 (Jove, conscious of his power to move thy 
 
 wains. 
 With blue eyes often peeps to view thy lanes). 
 Proud escort of two dames he struts along; 
 For, 'tween thee and Saint Jago, slow among 
 
Le)isurk Mome:nts 3 
 
 Thick giant grasses, shrubs, 'neath many a 
 
 tree, 
 He plods his silent way towards the sea ; 
 And there in quick'ning form his waters rise, 
 And ebb, advance, retreat, with melodies. 
 
 Now, through the twilight, there invite my 
 
 gaze 
 The shades of those you nursed in long past 
 
 days — 
 Days that to them were hours, in which they 
 
 dreamt 
 A life, from whose toils they are now exempt. 
 See good Yule crowded 'round by these glad 
 
 throngs 
 In thy great mart, to greet him with their 
 
 songs ; 
 There, strings and brass still sweeten mingling 
 
 strains 
 Of happy children, mirth of older swains: 
 Some, wont to worship on old Christmas 
 
 morn. 
 Keep conscious night's drear hours still to 
 
 adorn 
 Themselves with robes peculiar to the hour 
 That breathes to mark Yule's advent; then 
 
 adore 
 Him, in their haunts renew'd, for gifts and 
 
 pleasures. 
 Which o'er earth he has strewn in varying 
 
 measures. 
 
4 Le^isur^ Moments 
 
 But from across the vale they envy those, 
 Whose day still flows towards time's dark- 
 
 some close ; 
 And, as afore, they crowd each cool resoit, 
 Up on the hills, and at thine eastern fort. 
 
 There on the hills, where every tropic tree 
 And bud and flower seek immortality. 
 Whither the crystal waters haste their steep 
 Descent to meet in cisterns wide and deep, 
 Whence slow they wend their hidden path to 
 
 thee 
 Where once again they chatter when set free, 
 E'en now I wander by each dewy lawn 
 In fancy's dream (for here now breathes a 
 
 Dawn). 
 See that young palm : she stands alone ; around 
 Her lies a carpet green, and gravel-bound. 
 Look at yon grove, whose walls of trees pre- 
 vent 
 The distant eye from seeing what is pent 
 Within: there're rock'ries there 'neath wood- 
 built cots, 
 Where ferns of every tribe do own their lots; 
 Rose, jessamine, the tropic floral world 
 In artful ways are everywhere unfurl'd. 
 
 And those haunts left, behind uncultured trees, 
 Whose leaves must chatter with each fickle 
 
 breeze, 
 A paradise but hides. Then now beside 
 
Leisure Moments 5 
 
 The foam, or the soft ripples of the tide, 
 Upon green grassy patches, linger I 
 With Music, while she tunes a starlit sky. 
 And oft I climb'd, at dark'ning twilight, that 
 Old fort o'er there, while Phoebe o'er it sat ; 
 And thence I saw thee as thou wast ; but now, 
 Methinks, I see thee as thou art. Oh how 
 Couldst thou, O city, ever leave a spot 
 So fertile with fond pleasures? Bless thy lot; 
 Renew thy hopes ; and ever hold each charm, 
 Which'll stand obliv'ous to all threat'ning 
 harm. 
 
 What of the other charms that grace the land ? 
 They works of Nature, thine of human hand. 
 Though, as excelling thine, they win man's 
 
 praise, 
 Yet, near at hand, thine ready meet man's 
 
 gaze. 
 Now here they are, more num'rous they than 
 
 thine : 
 They are apart, I skip to each in line; 
 For, absent there, no union binds me here 
 To give the geographer a willing ear : 
 
 With climbing steps from Kendal's thirsty 
 
 mead. 
 Near four leagues north I rein my panting 
 
 steed ; 
 Behind, a parish; facing, one doth stand; 
 And gaping gorges gaze from either hand; 
 
6 Iv^ISUR^ MOMEJNTS 
 
 Here, in this path, in brotherhood are join'd 
 A range before and rugged chffs behind. 
 A freak of rivers claims that cleft for birth — 
 There, o'er the left wheel, in that lap of earth; 
 His name is Hector ; buried many a time, 
 He rises, too, as oft king in his clime ; 
 Still, in his grave beneath a bridge he sleeps ; 
 And o'er his dark broad bosom traffic sweeps. 
 
 That yon dark mount looks south : its visage 
 
 shows 
 To mem'ry bovine eyes, and horns, and nose; 
 And Nature kind to him preserves his age 
 To baffle calculations of the sage. 
 
 Who envies me now trailing but an ass 
 Deep laden with three blankets, food, spy-glass, 
 Intent to win in one night that proud peak, 
 Whence I would rule a realm for half a week? 
 He envies me, who reaching there espy 
 Encircling waters fringe earth's canopy, 
 When winds would shepherd kind their fleecy 
 
 flocks 
 To heights more humble, less of earth — more 
 
 rocks. 
 
 *Midst hilly wilds, a scene quite quaint and 
 
 grand 
 Attracts the visitor, who roams the land ; 
 Beside a fall, which chatters loud, and e'er, 
 A massive boulder lies secure ; and there 
 
Lkisurk Momi:nts 7 
 
 Slim boulders, train'd to herculean task, 
 Remain supports, and never aid would ask; 
 And daily master and his slaves record 
 The gifts of those, who names as gifts afford. 
 
 Between two precipices deep, and dark, 
 To one of which the iron stairs still mark 
 A knighted way, a broad white path, between 
 1 hick foliage, joins opposing banks : a scene 
 Ennch'd by relics in caves 'neath the green. 
 
 Hard by the shores north-eastern, lies a fount 
 Betwixt the legs of a too selfish mount; 
 His darkish blue gives free the racing sun 
 And ling'ring moon their pictures as they run 
 Whilst crowding herbage, rich with daily 
 
 showers. 
 Incessant test his photograph powers; 
 But woe to man, whose steps would him be- 
 
 ^ tray. 
 As 'long that climbing path above he'd stray ! 
 
 And what can sunset give to please the sight? 
 
 As from a subterranean path to light 
 
 The pass'nger goes, far 'hove Montego town, 
 
 He sees below, as quick he glances down, 
 
 A carpet variegated cov'ring fields 
 
 Of logwood, sugar, all the tropic yields. 
 
 Upon the carpet's edge, a city sits 
 
 Beside a bay, whose fringes Nature knits 
 
8 L:eisuRK Moments 
 
 Still ; and there stretches that bay's sharp-cut 
 
 line, 
 Watch'd by trees darkly green from 'midst the 
 
 brine. 
 But where yon kiss the ocean and the sky, 
 The lord of day, in bidding earth good-bye. 
 Would doff a hundred times his crimson cap, 
 And leave it hanging o'er the ocean's lap. 
 A few steps from the highway give a plain 
 Enthroned full twelve feet 'bove the briny 
 
 main; 
 The leafy screen, through which the path doth 
 
 wind, 
 Conceals a cot — rich Pleasure's selfish find ; 
 Before it gapes an orifice drill'd large, 
 Sunk through the massive granite near the 
 
 marge ; 
 In the huge throat an iron stairs but stand 
 Erect, with feet deep buried in the sand. 
 To see the cot rear from the rocky south ; 
 And near where stand the stairs, the gaping 
 
 mouth 
 Of this famed Doctor's Cave an entrance 
 
 gives 
 To waves, in which drug inexhaustive lives. 
 Nearby, descends by steps a chisell'd way 
 That meets the ocean where 'twould choose to 
 
 play. 
 Right noble is the proud Saint James, for 
 
 more 
 With wonders have the gods enrich 'd his store : 
 
Lkisur^ Moments 9 
 
 No bluffing headland would add to his pride; 
 Embedded 'midst the hills, far from the tide, 
 So limited and cool, blue waters sleep, 
 While shady trees surrounding vigil keep 
 And mow the leaf -strewn margin of the 
 
 couch. 
 Their tide but sleeps, the deep marsupial pouch 
 Ejects its mermaids on the rock-bound shore, 
 Should Nature's lips hush sounds they often 
 
 bore. 
 
 And must a golden table float here, too ? 
 
 Must some hid treasure air its head anew? 
 
 Old Tempus doth, at times, command each 
 shade 
 
 Of watching Spanish servants to parade, 
 
 When from the depths unfathom'd of a pool 
 
 Ascend a golden table, and a stool ; 
 
 But to remain coveted Spanish art, 
 
 Down, down they go. The guarding shades 
 depart. 
 
 Then somewhere else would rise through fire 
 and blood, 
 
 'Midst leaf-topp'd twilight, or Sol's albine 
 flood, 
 
 Some Spanish jar with golden charge en- 
 closed — 
 
 A willing present rich for once exposed. 
 
 Myth? Myth, perhaps, the table, stool, and 
 jar. 
 
lo MisuR^ Moments 
 
 (Mafuta! Chemist; test my good cigar.) 
 But will mafuta still besmear thy walls, 
 When Wine and Music pace thy lighted halls ? 
 Will foreign weed engage Jove's chymic hand, 
 And let a lordly weed manure the land? 
 Fair, lovely daughter, 'mid so many scenes, 
 So rare, so grand, and scatter'd by ravines ! 
 Black River, grim Bull Head, Blue Mountain 
 
 Peak, 
 Cane River, Riversdale, Blue Hole in bleak. 
 Bleak Portland, and Blue Hole — the mermaid's 
 
 creek, 
 The rest, too (of Saint James'), are of an age 
 Too changeful, and still Nature's hand engage : 
 Thou art of man; thy charms, of him; but 
 
 they. 
 Of Nature; and thy mother, Nature's clay. 
 There're more of charms, thy mother's name 
 
 recalls ; 
 Another theme would better make them 
 
 thralls. 
 From thy rent clay thy spirit wander'd long; 
 And winds, and waves sad chant thee dirge, 
 
 and song. 
 Whilst tim'rous Nature wept, great Jove his 
 
 voice 
 Sent forth as herald, to bid earth rejoice; 
 For, from above, the gods did show him there 
 Beneath a ray-spun gloom thee, risen fair. 
 Whom, as young Day rose from his cloud- 
 draped bed 
 
L^isuR^ Moments ii 
 
 And brought thine easier glad, we saw not 
 
 dead. 
 Now from our hearts, once rent by sorrow's 
 
 rod. 
 And from our Hps would rise glad praise to 
 
 God; 
 For now anew, in robes ethereal-like 
 Thy new-born, newly modell'd form doth 
 
 strike 
 The eye that sends across thy narrow sea 
 A shaded look towards Liguanea's lea. 
 No more our tears bedew thy memory, 
 No more thee as thy grave our eyes must see; 
 We see as monument thy risen self. 
 Or urn, thyself, upon that drooping shelf. 
 Thou, new in form! What better word can 
 
 give 
 Thine aged spirit name ? Long Kingston live ; 
 Immortal as thy name, may'st thou e'er stand 
 To welcome every age, and every land. 
 
 (Posfscripta.) 
 
 Within those rails that hoimd thy garden 
 square, 
 • ••••• 
 
 Thy choicest tropic blossoms bloom no more 
 There, where encamp the needy rich and poor. 
 E'en where thy cloister'd pilgrims, with 
 their songs 
 
12 L^isuR^ Mome:nts 
 
 Warm from their hidden altars and their 
 
 tongues. 
 Once join'd the reeds and strings in incensed 
 
 praise 
 To Heaven's King, on fixM repeating days, 
 Through blows impartial, desecrating, mix'd 
 Lie stones and tablets loving hands once fix'd. 
 Again within that dusty circling track, 
 
 There nozv a homeless populace lament, 
 Sky this ones canopy, and that a tent. 
 
L^ISUR^ MOMl^NTS 13 
 
 A TRANSLATION FROM HORACE. 
 
 Odes I, 5. 
 
 What youth, with many roses, slim, 
 
 With liquid odours sweet, o'er him, 
 
 Woos thee, Pyrrha, beneath some rock's 
 
 Cool grot ? For whom bind'st thou thy locks ; 
 
 Thou simply neat ? Ah ! oft, trust lost 
 And changed gods he'll weep, and [toss'd] 
 Waves, stirr'd by darkling winds, t' his eyes 
 All new, will hold his long surprise, 
 
 Who, now thee golden deeming, thee 
 Enjoys, who hopes thee always free, 
 E'er lovable — he mindful not 
 O' the treach'rous gale. To those hard lot, 
 
 Thou shin'st on new. The sacred wall 
 On votive tablet doth install 
 My garments wet, as hung by me. 
 Tithes to the god, who rules the sea. 
 
14 Leisure Moments 
 
 THE BACHELOR'S BUTTON. 
 
 Thou, sprite, that blow'st us, rose-buds. 
 To meet and kiss and part, — 
 
 Thou, who dost ever kindle 
 The fires of Cupid's heart, 
 
 Thy breath, steep'd with the essence 
 Of sweetest flowers of June — • 
 
 Will it not bend towards me 
 A lily fresh and soon ? 
 
 Here, on the branch that bears me 
 
 Alone, I sniff the air. 
 And rock; yet meet no lily, 
 
 Who'll whisper in my ear. 
 
 Fire me my heart, as Cupid's ; 
 
 Breathe, Love, around us, flowers'; 
 Blow me again ; and I will 
 
 Sweet whisper at their towers. 
 
Lhisurk Moments 15 
 
 TO THE DEWDROP. 
 
 Now morning breathes, earth's fair, anew. 
 
 In gilded garbs appear ; 
 And thou, too, stainless, smiling Dew, 
 
 Thou, dot, transcendent clear. 
 
 Refreshening to all around, 
 
 Reflecting heav'n above, 
 Unstain'd a jewel thou art found. 
 
 Fit emblem of pure love. 
 
 The bustle of a busy world, 
 
 The thermal rise of day 
 Are not for thee ; the leaf is curl'd, 
 
 Thy spirit fleets away. 
 
 The hours fly; begem me while 
 Thy life 'neath heaven glows; 
 
 Long kiss me; and an e'er fresh smile 
 Will meet each watching rose. 
 
i6 LiJisuR^ Moments 
 
 TO MAIDIE. 
 
 Thy name brought Fancy ; and her hand 
 
 Thy photograph outhned 
 Upon these walls, which once did stand 
 
 All bare within my mind. 
 
 The buried months made fresher those 
 Faint outlines; and each thought 
 
 Within me bloom'd a fragrant rose: 
 And thou the rose I sought. 
 
 But will not time cease to divide 
 
 Our trystings that afloat 
 Upon its tide we, side by side, 
 
 May sail our little boat? 
 
Iv^isuR^ Moments 17 
 
 MAID OF THE INDIES. 
 
 Maid of the Indies ! this you did command. 
 
 I would I were so skilful that my quill 
 Should not but trace, in this, thee, worthy, 
 grand. 
 
 So perfectly like thee ; for by His will 
 God did in thee mould Beauty with His hand. 
 
 I would my tongue could render what is sweet, 
 Befitting, with full rapture; earth'd seem 
 bare, 
 
 Bereft if e'er with time thy youth should fleet 
 On to eternity vast, certain, near ; 
 
 Not thine it is to welcome soon retreat. 
 
 Could I with epithets, in numbers good, 
 
 Harmonious touches give those blushing 
 cheeks, 
 About which smiling Dimples silent stood 
 Receiving imprints of what glad Mirth 
 speaks — 
 If but my muse were talented — I would 
 
 To me, my task is but a laurel rare 
 
 Young bards would never get, if Fate's dark 
 frown 
 
i8 LmsuR^ Mome:nts 
 
 Beclouds their brows (e'en though the muse is 
 there), 
 Ere Custom, with her bay, or myrtle crown, 
 Gives kingship to their worthy heads once bare. 
 
 Indeed, this mould, which breathes thine own 
 true breath. 
 No one else would more fitly hold; and 
 though 
 So glad a print, as this, may meet the death 
 A short-lived scan from thee could but be- 
 stow, 
 The muse did sing. And now the kind muse 
 saith : 
 
 "Here rest the tribute." But the muse sets 
 here. 
 
 On ending, this support all tribute-crest, 
 Memento-like of spots to us most dear — 
 
 Earth's only symbol of man's saintly rest. 
 
L^isur:^ Moments 19 
 
 WITH MY YELI.OW ROSE. 
 
 And what, — must, as this passing flow'r, 
 
 The first spray and divine of that 
 Pure worship, which on thee I show'r, 
 All known to thee, be soon forgat, 
 
 As fickle winds 
 Must rid my petall'd care of all 
 That wish and future could install 
 For two so free and kindred minds? 
 
 Perchance, 'Adieu, Adieu' thy lips 
 
 May give my sense too pleased to hear 
 Their notes, of which sad Mem'ry sips 
 (Now, they have ceased to tune my ear) : 
 
 Ah! e'en as wine, 
 Thy voice would but intoxicate 
 My soul forsaken now, too late 
 
 To know our hands shall ne'er entwine. 
 
 Serve me my potion — weal, or woe ; 
 
 The cup would savour e'er of all 
 That therein Mem'ry's lips would know, 
 
 For thee my thoughts must e'er enthral: 
 Though winds unfair 
 My hope, my craft, may vengeful scourge, 
 Unless thy breath joins to submerge 
 
 That craft, to thee me shall it bear. 
 
20 L:eisuRE Moments 
 
 MY DAUGHTER, OH, MY DAUGHTER. 
 
 "My daughter, oh, my daughter !" 
 
 The weeping mother cried. 
 *'Thy daughter, fairest lady,*' 
 
 Said one ('twas eventide), 
 
 "Is in that mansion ; thither 
 
 I saw her wend her way. 
 When hght and dark were blending 
 
 To usher in this day." 
 
 "Ah! Sirrah, wait here, linger 
 
 Around my little home 
 Till I return' with Mary — 
 
 Oh, Heaven, tend my roam." 
 
 The widow'd woman girded 
 
 Her waist, to lift her sack 
 One inch ; and soon the distance 
 
 Lay trod behind her back. 
 
 Now standing by an organ. 
 
 From which great Hadyn*s soul 
 
 Immortal sweet was flowing 
 As rare wine from a bowl, 
 
LiJisuRE Moments 21 
 
 "Stop ! Sir,'* said she : the fingers 
 Ceased o'er the keys to roam ; 
 
 The voices fled the organ; 
 Brief, silence ruled the home. 
 
 Then out burst the pale widow : 
 "I know that thou hast said, 
 
 *0 could I reach that dame's heart, 
 To dwell there till I'm dead;' 
 
 "Ah, Sir " But here he stopp'd her. 
 
 *'0h, lady," cried the beau, 
 "Your daughter's hand I pined for; 
 
 Her heart (ah, this I know) 
 
 "Was mine, is mine ; these fingers '* 
 
 But here his voice was drown'd 
 
 By sighs, the blood his cheeks left, 
 His brow the 'kerchief found, 
 
 "These fingers long have won her 
 
 Proud heart ; her letters bear 
 Me witness that my wishes 
 
 Were hers, too ; this I swear." 
 
 A hundred steps resounded 
 
 Upon the carpet green 
 That from an inner chamber 
 
 Led to this parlour scene; 
 
22 Leisure Moments 
 
 The purple curtains parted: 
 A damsel, with her hair 
 
 Loose hanging o'er her shoulders, 
 Rush'd in to where tliey were. 
 
 "Oh, mother," said the damsel, 
 "Fear not ; the 3^ear of strife 
 
 Thou gavest me is ended ; 
 
 I'm now John's wedded wife." 
 
LEISURE Moments aj 
 
 TO BABY C- 
 
 Thy voice through space in waves — a sea— < 
 Comes breaking o'er my memory, 
 And flooding all, o'er which mine eyes 
 Now wander : you before me rise. 
 Though time divides this present hour 
 From when I saw thee, youthful flow'r, 
 I now behold those fearless eyes, 
 Through which thy soul surveys what lies 
 Around awaiting thee, when days 
 Will bring thee, lass, spring's fickle ways. 
 But through those eyes, methinks, I see 
 A soul that dreads no rod's decree; 
 And lips so firm set but reveal 
 Such as Truth's own would ne'er conceal. 
 What haughty mien crown'd by thy browl 
 And e'en no rippling smiles allow 
 Thee to display the simple ways, 
 Such budding youth too oft betrays. 
 
24 Ll^ISURE MOMJ^NTS 
 
 . MUSIC'S PART. 
 
 Fingers eager but to please 
 Dance the keys 
 
 High, and low ; 
 Fast, then slowly from the cords 
 Float sweet chords 
 
 O'er the bow; 
 Anger's eyes deep tinged with red 
 Dive the waves, as quick they spread 
 Row by row. 
 
 Sharp, and flat, and semitone 
 Melt the stone 
 
 Of a heart; 
 Sparkling clear, as from a fount, 
 Tears now mount ; 
 
 Quick, and smart 
 Flees revenge from that calm'd breast, 
 Where breaks soothing each waves crest 
 Music's part. 
 
 Storms rage long; deep billows roar: 
 From the floor 
 
 He his eyes 
 Lifts; and, through the window niche, 
 
L:^isuRB Mome;nts 25 
 
 Meadows rich 
 
 Sudden rise : 
 Waves unseen, and tempest's sprite 
 (Sudden hush'd their phantom might): 
 Quit their guise. 
 
26 LmsuR^ Moments 
 
 A PHANTOM STORM. 
 
 The roof was canopy; each idle chair, 
 
 Which stood around me, wore a look of care. 
 
 The hearth was sleeping; summer breathed on 
 
 earth ; 
 And in the fields dwelt every voicesome mirth ; 
 Whilst all alone the clock the mantelpiece 
 Kept to himself, and ne'er his chat would cease. 
 A canvas o'er the clock e'er silent speaks; 
 It tells of rocky streams, of snow-capp'd peaks, 
 Him, having seen no Russian foe to fight, 
 Retreating to his den a conquer'd wight. 
 In whom earth saw a corp'ral, emp'ror, slave 
 When from a throne he'd fled to Freedom's 
 
 grave : 
 That scene, that Corsican's almighty will 
 Did lend themselves that twilight hour to fill. 
 And 'round me art, too, frame-pent, voiceless, 
 
 spoke ; 
 I listen'd, until when string'd voices broke 
 The silence. 
 
 'Twas a midnight ride, as by 
 Some dark green cornfield, 'neath a moonlit 
 
 sky,— 
 One sea reflecting every willing ray 
 
Leisure: Mom£:nts 27j 
 
 That Phoebe would but shower, on her way ; 
 
 And now to hear a sudden gentle noise 
 
 From 'midst the leaves — a little streamlet's 
 
 voice 
 Attuning earth, and floating at the curves, 
 When, o'er the peak by him, his fear-struck 
 
 nerves 
 Would storm detect, and find him all without 
 A raincoat; then as he would turn about 
 The willing palfrey, lo, the eyes must find 
 White sheets hung from the welkins black; a 
 
 wind, 
 A-hurrying from the fire display of Jove, 
 Fast driven by the voice of him it strove 
 In vain t' escape ; the pulsive screams of leaves, 
 Which must fall smitten, strewn, and not in 
 
 sheaves : 
 These, these appear, as musing I would dream 
 Of what I heard when music was a stream. 
 
28 Leisure Moments 
 
 TO BIRDIE. 
 
 Oh, birdie, Bird, the cage door 
 
 Is ope, none doth rejoice; 
 The roof re-echoes no more 
 
 The music of thy voice. 
 
 The Hnnet, and the thrush, too, 
 Who danced each day around. 
 
 And fought the doors to get through, 
 And at each other frown'd, 
 
 And kiss'd the wires that guarded 
 
 The sanctum of thy cage, 
 Hast thou left unrewarded — 
 
 Each left without his wage? 
 
 Were they not guards, who watch'd thee 
 
 With patient, jealous eye, 
 As if from some dread en'my 
 
 They saw e'er drawing nigh? 
 
 But where art thou, oh, birdie? 
 
 Thy spirit haunts thy cage, 
 The mem'ry of each laddie, 
 
 Whom Envy did engage. 
 
Le;isure Moments 29 
 
 Each whistle of the spring winds 
 
 Recalls thy memory 
 To each, who now in it finds 
 
 A vocal treasury: 
 
 The linnet, and the throstle 
 
 Do mourn that thou art gone, 
 As now the March winds rustle 
 
 Around the cold, cold stone-^ 
 
 The stone, which marks the fond spot. 
 Where once you charming stood : 
 
 Was violence thy hard lot? 
 
 Or hast thou sought the wood? 
 
 Is thy sad absence ever 
 
 To see us grow insane? 
 From gloomy thoughts deliver 
 
 Our minds, which long have Iain 
 
 In regions of anxiety, 
 
 Where threat'ning Horrors gaze 
 With redden'd eyes, whence Piety 
 
 Is banish'd all her days. 
 
 When Beauty, with her brushes, 
 
 Thy rosy cheeks did taint. 
 And tinge thy lips with touches 
 
 O' the rarest crimson paint. 
 
 When happy Mirth, and Duty 
 
30 L^isuR^ Mome:nts 
 
 Their touches did combine, 
 RemodelHng thy beauty 
 Here, in thy small confine, 
 
 The stern world would then kind grow. 
 
 And happy grew the sad, 
 Then, Anger would no ill know, 
 
 And saneness clothed the mad, 
 
 The weary hours would light grow. 
 
 And labour pleasure gave, 
 Where'er thy smile would free go. 
 
 As light across the wave. 
 
 Return, oh, birdie, birdie; 
 
 The linnet and the thrush 
 Await thy coming, maidie. 
 Thou, birdie, cherub, lady! 
 
 Around thy cage they rush! 
 Within thy cage they jostle! 
 The linnet, and the throstle,— 
 The linnet, and the thrush. 
 
L^isuRi; Moments 31 
 
 ETHLYN KER. 
 
 Flat was its top ; a cent'ry flew 
 Once o'er its pebbled paths ; that hill 
 Was crown'd with one large church, which 
 knew 
 
 What masonry's deft hand and will 
 
 Could raise to baffle time's decay. 
 
 Beside those paths, slabs, carved with skill, 
 
 Reveal'd too many a bed of clay, 
 In which the sleepers victims were 
 Of every Fate. As there they lay, 
 
 And slept, they reck'd not of the stir, 
 Which shed sad tears, and raised loud cries 
 For one there known as Mistress Ker. 
 
 Between the church and eastern skies. 
 Within the churchyard guarded, rose 
 The pastor's cot in lowly guise. 
 
 Beneath its roof, in calm repose. 
 As evening's curtains lower'd slow, 
 A candle's ray would oft disclose 
 
22 Leisure: Moments 
 
 Fair Ethlyn sitting by its glow. 
 A voice, as chanting to each stitch, 
 Would always read while she did sew. 
 
 The pulpit knew that voice's pitch ; 
 It fill'd so oft the spacious church, 
 Which never knew its tongue to hitch. 
 
 As quick a wind the sky did smirch 
 With clouds, one Sunday afternoon, 
 The choir wish'd no more to perch . 
 
 As warblers of a strain ; but soon 
 
 That voice, which all had known so well— • 
 
 The pastor's — led them, as the moon 
 
 Her tides. Then as the organ's swell, 
 And fingers nimble, feet, each tongue 
 Did sudden in hush'd silence dwell, 
 
 A deep voice roar'd the hills among : 
 Two clouds of threat'ning mien came fast; 
 And as they cleft the paths along 
 
 For those they led, lo ! each quick cast 
 A bolt at his brave foeman, and 
 The duel did no longer last. 
 
 The sun peep'd out to view the land, 
 
 As twilight left the land and sea ; 
 
 For, as when youth's too mischievous hand 
 
Leisur:^ Mome:nts 33 
 
 Offends decorum, then doth flee 
 The urchin from fear'd disciphne, 
 The clouds had sought a western lea. 
 
 But there beside the aged shrine 
 The target of the duel lay- 
 Beneath Destruction's foot, and pine 
 
 (Whose larger end had dent the clay, 
 And now against his thigh it lean'd) : 
 The cottage lies there to this day. 
 
 The pastor's aged wife had ween'd 
 Not Fate's decree, as there she sat 
 Beside the table, while she clean'd 
 
 Each misty lens : the snowy cat 
 Then keeping slumb'ring silent watchi 
 Within the doorway on the mat, 
 
 The clock, which many a spring did catch 
 Slow tolling every minute's death, 
 Its friend upon the grassy patch. 
 
 On which Sol wrote when pass'd the breath 
 Of every hour, and Ethlyn, all 
 Were canopied, unwarn'd by Death. 
 
34 L^isuR^ Moments 
 
 There was no note of Ethlyn's call. 
 To that sad scene, there was a rush, — • 
 As sounds the wind amidst the tall 
 
 Shrubs of the forest's thick-set bush, 
 Or e'en 'midst autumn rustling leaves, 
 Stiff skirts did flutter, halt, then hush— 
 
 A calm. Too long, and deep for breves — 
 Those breves, which pedals low long sound — 
 Rose each sad groan, such as relieves 
 
 The pain of him, who is long bound 
 
 By sorrow, or regret; but they 
 
 Saw given up, by that strewn ground, 
 
 Poor Ethlyn in life's less'ning ray. 
 
 A heart, hard press'd by sorrow's weight. 
 
 Upon the stiffen'd tongue will lay 
 
 A portion of its weary freight; 
 The tongue, then stubborn, silent lies, 
 Whilst crowding thoughts confused, ere late, 
 
 Now take the tide towards the eyes: 
 The feeble pastor silent wept. 
 Mix'd groans, and shrieks, and lengthen'd 
 cries 
 
 Bewail'd the fate of her, who slept; 
 
Leisure Moments 35 
 
 But Phoebus smiled upon the scene, 
 As o'er the western skies he swept 
 
 In royal state : this did chagrin 
 
 The heaven occidental, for 
 
 Its blood-tinged face was plainly seen. 
 
 As Sol slipp'd through his exit-door, 
 The heaven o'er its blood flush'd face 
 Drew veil, and shew'd its rage no more. 
 
 A sombre mantle o'er the place 
 
 Was spread ; but when the sun did raise 
 
 It, ere he start'd his wonted race, 
 
 He saw there, through the morning haze, 
 Beneath a willow's ravish'd hair 
 (Each lock, a tongue on windy days), 
 
 The gather'd friends. A cold, dark air 
 Swept every countenance, as slow 
 Was Ethlyn lower'd sadly there 
 
 To reach her narrow bed. But lo. 
 Whene'er pale Death, his cruel shocks 
 Gives, who would dare defy? and, oh, 
 
 Down cheeks once dry, as desert rocks, 
 Flow'd silent streams. Now, one by one, 
 They left, some with disorder'd locks. 
 
36 Leisure Moments 
 
 Beneath that willow, one large stone 
 Half buried, with its chisell'd face 
 Half turn'd to heaven, there alone 
 
 With silent tongue betrays the place, 
 Where Ethlyn 'neath a willow's moan 
 Lies, watch'd by many a petall'd grace. 
 
Leisure Moments 37, 
 
 NOT THERE WAS SOLITUDE. 
 
 Not on that mount of pleasures bare, 
 
 Where all alone I breathed the air 
 
 So cooling, whistling merry tunes, 
 
 For ten and three repeating moons,—* 
 
 Not there was solitude. 'Twas not 
 
 Because a kitten had forgot 
 
 To seek the dewy bowers, where 
 
 The feather'd minstrels tuned the air; 
 
 'Twas not the horse, which liked to peep 
 
 Into my room, where lay asleep 
 
 Poor Kitty on my snowy bed ; 
 
 'Twas not the winds, which often led 
 
 Their flocks close by my cottage door, 
 
 Or e'en across the glossy floor 
 
 (For, oftentimes, they did intrude 
 
 There) : these did not drive solitude! 
 
 And e'en in sweetest leisure, when 
 
 O'er crag, o'er fence, through wood I then 
 
 Let careful steps my way select 
 
 To pluck buds, which my breast bedecked, 
 
 To go to kiss the singing brook. 
 
 Or, haste to hide within a nook 
 
 From driving rain; or when I rode 
 
38 L^isuR^ Moments 
 
 Through fens, through mist, or where they 
 
 sow'd 
 The golden corn, or ginger : there 
 No soHtude was ever near. 
 
 (Life was a dream too short to thee.) 
 As one, who slept with limbs stretch'd free. 
 As if but list'ning to some sound 
 That murmur'd in the rocky ground, 
 With eyelids, lips, and senses seal'd, 
 While hover 'd 'round about the field 
 His guardian angel, leisure spent 
 The summer hours in sweet content : 
 So I those days when there was e'er 
 Thy spirit present. How could there 
 Be solitude when thou wast near? 
 
Li^isuRS Moments 39 
 
 TO KITTY. 
 
 Too loud, too loud I say, Kitty, 
 
 A whisper e'en I hear ; 
 But snores Hke thine would chase all thoughts 
 
 That'd wish thee always near. 
 
 How oft hast thou me standing made 
 
 A veritable tree, 
 To hasten grumbling from my feet 
 
 T' my shoulder, eh, Kitty! 
 
 Thy weight doth not my neck oppress, 
 
 Nor doth thy tongue excite 
 My nerves ; but leers, like those you aim 
 
 At my poor lips, unite 
 
 To bid me watch thy mischievous hand : 
 
 Ah ! glad am I to see 
 That that old lexicon relieves 
 
 My ear, and neck, of thee. 
 
 When comes a stony, inky block 
 
 That crumbles in thy bed. 
 What next will meet thy fancy, Kit, 
 
 To choose as bed, instead ? 
 
40 L^isuRiS Moments 
 
 Oh ! naughty, pet, — why with thy hand 
 Now blur what shew the path, 
 
 O'er which my steelly steed did trot ? 
 Why rouse pegasan wrath? 
 
 Hear ! footprints, on this milky way, 
 Are not of those that mark 
 
 Thy tribe, thy race, thy sense ; thou art 
 At best but in the dark. 
 
 And, now, before I do transfer 
 
 The spirits of this page 
 (Since I must bury what I wrote, 
 
 And, too, my innocent rage), 
 
 Let these same bearers of their forms 
 Bear thee to where much dust 
 
 Would lie, if from my good cigar 
 Drop ashes, crust by crust. 
 
Leisure MoME:N'rs 41 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Ah ! well did Spring with magic touch trans- 
 form 
 The forest skeletons to shapes that shade 
 The landscape em'rald that, with the alarum 
 A nation's knell now sounds (for thou 
 
 hast made 
 Thine exit), I may, on this side the glade, 
 Bespread thy bed with newest leaves of bay, 
 Which ere the vengeful summer's gone 
 may fade: 
 Thee England mourns; for, lo, to her dis- 
 may, 
 She woke to find her darling hero lifeless clay. 
 
 Thee, type of English daring, Eton's pride, 
 Youth's guide upon the road to martial 
 fame, 
 Thy country mourns : and lonely now beside 
 Thy couch stands Courage weeping, fear- 
 less dame — 
 Thy consort o'er the fields that knew thy 
 name. 
 Which of the cruel Fates with feigning love 
 
42 LieisuR^ Mome:nts 
 
 Did kiss thee, Redvers, with her lips 
 aflame 
 With red revenge, because 'twas not with 
 glove 
 Some thornful entities from earth thou didst 
 remove ? 
 
 Sleep well. For latest days, now Honour 
 writes 
 Upon the tablet of thy Country's heart 
 Thy name amongst those of the bravest 
 wights : 
 Permitteth me my muse to act her part, 
 Me yet unskill'd in her divinest art; 
 Unlaurell'd though, she'd wind about thy 
 head 
 A wreath of bay, whose leaves would 
 soonest start 
 To mellow. But to whom shall Courage 
 wed? 
 She leaves what was btit 3^esterday her bridal 
 bed. 
 June 3, 1908. 
 
L^isuR^ Moments 43 
 
 THE SIEGE OF QUEBEC. 
 
 Greece, Italy, and others — all have seen 
 Their fields made vast arenas, where 
 dread strife 
 Drain'd many a bravest heart that long had 
 been 
 A mother's joy, her pride, her highest 
 
 Hfe: 
 Canadian fields, too, have fierce fights, 
 not rife. 
 Made gory; redden'd the Saint Lawrence 
 ran. 
 Perhaps in anger, when Quebec, his wife. 
 Lay maim'd, for Wolfe had led his every 
 man 
 E'en to her iron gates, he leader of the van. 
 
 War charged the breath of England's loyal 
 
 sons; 
 And zvar the Frenchman's: for three 
 
 passing years 
 On either side th' Atlantic's tide, their guns 
 
 By rival thunders signall'd common 
 
 tears. 
 
44 L^isuREj Mome:nts 
 
 *'Go, take Quebec," said Pitt, new to the 
 cares 
 Of premier office in the Empire wide; 
 
 Wolfe martiaird arms, long eager; sail'd: 
 dark Fears 
 (That would but try to stain a nation's 
 pride) 
 From Saunder's frigates fled, as fast these 
 plough'd the tide. 
 
 In numbers far superior, from the Fall 
 Of Montmorency to Saint Charles, stood 
 fast 
 The French in deepest ranks, — 'twas Duty's 
 call ; 
 But when from Isle Orleans brave Wolfe 
 
 had cast 
 A martial eye benearing what was last 
 Upon his sweeping scan, the blood soon fled 
 
 To each his pallid cheek, as o'er the vast 
 Canadian fluvial shore his eye had sped 
 Obstructed by a gun-peak'd wall soon ridged 
 with dead. 
 
 And two days more, June would have left 
 Wolfe's arms 
 Still idle on the islet of Orleans; 
 But blood as his was, test'd, unspill'd by 
 harms 
 Brought near at Falkirk, Dettingen, and 
 scenes 
 
L^ISUR^ MOMI^NTS 45 
 
 More daring coloured, as at Rochefort's 
 greens, — 
 That blood him fill'd with ire, which 
 breathed command 
 To take this strongest fortress by a means 
 Forlorn, and fruitless, when against a land 
 Fort-crown'd, and mann'd, his latest stratagem 
 was plann'd. 
 
 What if had Monckton, Townshend, Mur- 
 ray seen 
 The plots staged faithfully — just as de- 
 sign'd ! 
 What if the fruits of later feats, though 
 green. 
 Had ripen'd, and not scorch'd by adverse 
 
 wind — 
 When fell four hundred, prey to fire un- 
 kind! 
 Now watch'd brave hearts of oak, beneath a 
 sky 
 Of summer glow, from silent guns be- 
 hind. 
 While one, majestic in command, with eye 
 Far seeing, learnt what was so distant, as if 
 nigh. 
 
 The summer hours, now near all gathered, 
 lay 
 Abundant 'neath the leafy mounds of oak 
 And pine, when Wolfe, along the wat'ry way 
 
46 LEISURE Mome:nts 
 
 Unlit, with muffled oars, and silent stroke 
 Led on the martial skiffs he mann'd. 
 When woke 
 Montcalm of French renown, from where 
 he'd lain, 
 He saw, as if awaked, too, when day 
 broke, 
 A host array'd, south-west, upon the plain 
 That table-like rose far above the crystal main ; 
 
 For all unseen had Wolfe the steep way led, 
 
 His treach'rous footing made safe by the 
 
 hand. 
 
 Now proud behind his turrets, Montcalm 
 
 said: 
 
 "I shall erase tliem soon from where they 
 
 stand :" 
 And as he voiced this his bold command : 
 "Advance! Charge! Fire! Stain ye your 
 swords Vvath blood; 
 Your bayonets ensheathe in sinews; and 
 Stay not the Eagle's course till runs a flood 
 From every talon wound to dye the river's 
 mud," 
 
 Forth belch'd a myriad fires, and thunders 
 
 roar'd. 
 As if a hundred Joves had storm'd the 
 
 spheres ; 
 But still obedient, though with patience 
 
 bored, 
 
L^isuREi Moments 47 
 
 The English — targets — answered not : like 
 
 bears 
 They patient crouch'd behind the fence- 
 like lairs 
 Their rifles made in steel-crown'd rows ; and 
 when 
 Within their range the French came, un- 
 awares 
 They show'r'd a blinding storm of fire, 
 which then 
 Sent reeling back, pell-mell, Montcalm and all 
 his men. 
 
 Wolfe led the way to vict'ry ; but *twas thrice 
 
 Upon the way he halted, stung by fire : 
 Once, twice he rose, and start'd again; the 
 vice 
 Of Death him held when last he fell. As 
 
 higher 
 The tide of charging rose, he did enquire, 
 Reclining, swooning, as he heard They run: 
 *'Who run ?" And one replied : " "The 
 en'my, Sire;" 
 Cried Wolfe to him: "Let nothing pass a 
 gun 
 From fields outlying to Montcalm, till victVy*s 
 won." 
 
 And ere the tide of battle swept Montcalm 
 And his battalions from the fort, Wolfe 
 lay, 
 
48 Lkisurk Moments 
 
 Upon the Plains of Abraham, soothed with 
 balm — 
 Eternal healing to his aching clay 
 Now stark, and cold, 'neath heaven's fad- 
 ing ray. 
 Montcalm, too, cross'd the lonely darksome 
 vale, 
 Through which had Wolfe pass'd on that 
 fatal day; 
 And those he left behind to tell the tale 
 Ere long did find themselves within the Eng- 
 lish pale. 
 
Le:isure Mome:nts 49 
 
 GETTYSBURG. 
 
 I felt this morning's breath as on it passed 
 
 Towards eternity ; and now the noon 
 Is serving me not what the morning, last, 
 Had giv'n; and what will evening bring 
 me soon? 
 These, as the Fates, my measured hours 
 
 attune 
 As please them all obedient to their iceberg 
 Hearts — cold indiff'rence : 'twas on a new 
 moon 
 They breathed a new Thermopylae: — at 
 Hamburg, 
 Or Berlin rather ? No, not there, — at Gettys- 
 burg. 
 
 At Gettysburg low laid — from where rise 
 
 peak'd, 
 
 And sad, opposing heights in parallel ways 
 
 (Save where the one in curvature had 
 
 sneak'd 
 
 Away from strifes of earlier summer 
 
 days),— 
 At Gettysburg, methinks, as now doth 
 •gaze 
 
50 Leisure Moments 
 
 A summer sun upon that hallow'd spot, 
 I see the war-clouds gather thick, and 
 prays 
 One that the spark, the thunder-clap would 
 not 
 But bring, in showers, the good that is man's 
 joyous lot. 
 
 The thund'ring had all ceased at Sharpsburg, 
 where 
 A field was claim'd and won; the hope, 
 the fire. 
 Which fill'd each breast, on future fields did 
 glare; 
 And there were seen new vict'ries — one 
 
 desire : 
 But, ah, at Gettysburg, burst forth the ire, 
 Full blown, revengeful of the past defeat : 
 Through burning hours, three noons did 
 it require 
 To muster fullest strength : blood at red- 
 heat 
 Made then that field an altar, now a sad retreat. 
 
 Dark-brow 'd, cloud-capp'd, and hydra-head- 
 ed, down 
 Upon the gath'ring arms look'd sadly 
 those 
 
 Hills, at fair Gettysburg. Who watch'd '3em 
 frown 
 
Leisures Moments 5^ 
 
 When, as July from months of slumber 
 
 rose, 
 Friends, kit and kin, in dubious fight did 
 close ? 
 They saw, they felt, they drank, with heav'n 
 they wept, 
 For at their feet those, who were blood- 
 knit foes. 
 Lay heap'd, and cold; and while these 
 breathless slept. 
 The bruised trees, like sentinels, the vigil kept. 
 
 Morn saw a skirmish; eve unsettled strife; 
 Next evening saw the Fates still wrang- 
 ling o'er 
 The fickle balance; but the tliird, the life 
 Blood of Earth's largest plann'd republic 
 
 more . 
 
 To one side weigh that strife, full stam d 
 
 with gore. 
 True pivoted at Picket's charge,— as fell, 
 It stay'd ; and this at Gettysburg. Afore 
 Old Waterloo, now Gettysburg doth tell 
 That on it last a nation s destiny did dwell. 
 
52 Leisure Moments 
 
 INSECURITY. 
 
 The mighty oak, mail'd 'gainst the tempest's 
 
 rage, 
 Yet target of Jove's anger, red, and Wind, 
 Monarch for years, may in one moment yield 
 Securest fame to but an acorn's bud : . 
 So yielding may be what earth knows as fame, 
 Time's ravage knows not health, nor hour, nor 
 
 name. 
 
Leisure MoM:eNTS 53 
 
 IF. 
 
 A yawning gap, or but Gibraltar-like 
 A steep abrupt, ne'er to be overcome, 
 Attainment from the unattain'd to some 
 
 Divides ; and each the ditch, or but the dike, 
 
 Which m.arks the place where'er the Will did 
 strike 
 'Gainst dread Defeat's all rattling, shatt'ring 
 
 bomb, 
 Or meet Success with glad and noisy hum 
 
 For vantage 'gainst an almost deadly pike. 
 
 This common semblance of prevention meets 
 The ear from those, who would, or could, or 
 should, 
 But did not reach the now-wish'd vantage seats 
 Which Mem'ry, or the world would own as 
 good ; 
 And just as Time of yore, the Present greets 
 This IF defending now as e'er it could. 
 
54 L^isur:e Moments 
 
 NEVER. 
 
 The wishful eyes spill tears for what is near, 
 And far enough to tantalise the mind; 
 The arm outstretch'd to pluck so glad a find 
 Would still, through fingers dancing, fill the 
 
 air 
 With vain inventions fraught with prospects 
 fair, 
 And spectre-like, — these, tunnell'd paths to 
 
 wind 
 Through mighty obstacles that hopeless 
 blind 
 A willing industry, a need, a care. 
 
 Unown'd, and out of reach a treasure sits 
 
 Inviting to most mortals ; but a Fate 
 With wilful plans had made her regal writs 
 
 Ordaining feast for eyes, but nought of date 
 When lingual touch takes place, for it ne'er 
 flits 
 In downward flight to please him, who 
 would wait. 
 
L^isuR^ Moments 55 
 
 A-MATING. 
 
 Life's path all strewn with roses, 
 Or one full set with thorn, 
 
 Life's day made of reposes, 
 One breathing hopes forlorn, 
 
 Succeeding days all sunny. 
 Or days of weeping hours, 
 
 All life pursuing money, 
 Or years in Idle's bowers. 
 
 Would weary even patience. 
 And sick'n a healthy mind ; 
 
 Whilst blended, their joint presence 
 Makes absent each its kind 
 
 (Just as in Music, measures 
 
 Bereft of discords shew 
 Too clear the hidden treasures. 
 Which plent'ous seen, cheap grow; 
 
 Or, bars with discords studded 
 
 Declare the art insane ; 
 Whilst if all earth is flodded 
 
 By both in mingling strain, 
 
'56 L^isuRS^ Moments 
 
 With music irrigating, 
 
 Imagination yields) : 
 Dame Nature's song, A-Mating, 
 
 Must e'er attune her fields. 
 
L:eisuRE MoMijNTS 57 
 
 TO CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Fair arbiter of all men's deeds, 
 Whose fearless nod doth relegate 
 Proud Right, and shameless Wrong to sate 
 
 Each o'er his mem'ry's wheat, and weeds ! 
 
 Wise choice is thy secure abode 
 
 Hid from the gaze of influence vile; 
 Conniving not at Satan's wile. 
 
 Undaunted, Justice guards thy road. 
 
 The wise, the great wait at thy feet, 
 And with earth's humblest list to thee; 
 The judge, the prisoner, bond, and free 
 
 Before thy throne in common meet. 
 
 Save when thine intellect is blunt — 
 When Justice from thy side departs, 
 Thus leaving thee the king of hearts 
 
 That shine at Lucifer's dark font; 
 
 And Mem'ry then before thy throne, 
 With plaints against thy past decrees. 
 Would write upon her cheeks the pleas 
 
 Successful 'gainst wrongs thou hast done — 
 
58 L^isuR]^ Mome:nts 
 
 The span, which from thine earhest hours 
 Brings thee the last, is laurell'd by 
 The choicest leaves that ever sigh 
 
 In winds that bathe fair Eden's bowers. 
 
 Since passing years no foot-marks leave 
 Upon thy locks, let fleeting time 
 No false ideal, from polar clime 
 
 To tropic, give, thee to deceive. 
 
leisure: Mome:nts 59 
 
 PATIENCE. 
 
 Wait pa. jiitly on God's own time; 
 
 In waiting, never tire : 
 Protracted springtime fitter makes 
 
 The fruit for Summer's fire. 
 
 Leap forward not; move cautiously; 
 
 Thy time and action plan ; 
 The past, thy chart ; the future, fields ; 
 
 And courage, shield: O man. 
 
 While mortals slumber, fathom low 
 
 Thy deep cavernous mind ; 
 A golden morn, a silver cloud 
 
 May greet thy midnight find. 
 
 Her strength, once dormant, Earth doth see 
 
 To gather motive pow'r; 
 And unexpected shatter'd lies 
 
 Wealth's worshipp'd, mossy tow'r. 
 
 The air in slumber lieth, as 
 
 A fickle sprite, at rest; 
 But madden'd antics soon it hurls 
 
 O'er Earth's defenceless breast. 
 
6o Leisure Moments 
 
 And while the billows monsterlike 
 
 The tempest lashes wild, 
 The port-bound pilot wise remains 
 
 The storm's obedient child. 
 
 But ne'er with patience armour thee, 
 If Sluggard be thy role; 
 For, on life's stage, each motion doth 
 Reveal the actor's soul. 
 
Leisure Moments 6i 
 
 AT EASTERTIDE. 
 
 What here belingers sighs, and tears, 
 
 Which would reheve the soul 
 Of burd'ning thoughts fraught with dark 
 fears, — 
 
 That ne'er 't may reach its goal? 
 
 Methinks, I hear a whisper say : 
 
 '' 'Twas Eastertide the first, 
 Christ armoured in mortal clay, 
 
 Death's gate for once did burst." 
 
 Ah ! yes, — and now 'tis Eastertide ; 
 
 Erom wintry slumber Earth 
 Has risen; and here doth abide 
 
 Blithe Spring of tender birth : 
 
 So, at that Eastertide, when graves 
 
 Their charges all must yield, 
 Earth's vanquish'd, captors, lords, and slaves 
 
 Anew will meet a-field. 
 
62 Lejisur^ Moments 
 
 CHRISTMAS CHIMES. 
 
 Hark, hark, I hear the tongues of Christmas 
 bells 
 (Whose silv'ry notes, too, mark an Au- 
 tumn's fall) 
 To many a hill, and to their spiry dells 
 
 Are gath'ring faithful flocks, each with its 
 call. 
 
 List, list the chimes : the echoes in my ear 
 Tell what the wise men saw on Christmas 
 morn. 
 
 When to His kingdom did a King appear: 
 His birth no royal pageant did adorn. 
 
 Thither from 'far. Him sages came to see, 
 Rich with the Orient's treasures ; to His feet 
 
 A star did guide them, and their company — 
 The angels — cheer'd them with hozannas 
 sweet. 
 
 See, in the morning candle's waning light, 
 The little children, Vaken'd show their glee : 
 
 For in the sombre hours, hid from their sight 
 A father brought them treasures much, and 
 free. 
 
LmsuRi; Moments 63 
 
 The promise, which an age had waited long 
 
 To see, shot forth at last into the world ; 
 The shoot sprang up the wheat and tares 
 among ; 
 Though lopp'd it sent aloft its leaves un- 
 furl'd; 
 
 Far o'er the land the shady branches wave, 
 Scatt'ring fresh seeds; and here some flour- 
 ish free: 
 We are but shoots ; and till we reach the grave, 
 Let Onward, Upward e'er our watchwords 
 be. 
 
 Now varied years assemble to outpour 
 
 Each the heart's measure, each with grateful 
 mind; 
 Tongues, now in silence buried, did adore 
 Him, who was meek, and gentle, loving, 
 kind: 
 
 As those, too, who within some sacred hall 
 Now gather, we ourselves — glad treasures — • 
 bring 
 
 Along with incensed praise, with gold; let all 
 Our cares, too, lie before our Saviour King. 
 
 Night reigns, a candle rules its little realm ; 
 At dawn. Night's luminaries dimly burn : 
 He, who by fear had sway'd a statecraft's 
 helm. 
 
64 LEISURE Moments 
 
 Sat soon forgot by men, who quick did 
 turn — 
 
 Some glad, some doubting — to the Manger's 
 door ; 
 But now the sovereign would, to join the 
 throng, 
 Descend his throne, and, unlike him of yore, 
 Would seek Him with meek footsteps, 
 pray'r, and song. 
 
Lkisur^ Moments 
 
 ODES TO THE SEASONS. 
 
 Triumphant Spring ! as gaily o'er the fields 
 Thou mak'st thy pageant march, the tongued 
 
 winds 
 Glad hail thine advent, which their songs pro- 
 claim 
 From ocean's crests to farthest peaken bow'rs. 
 Ere long, no more the white-mask'd spires shall 
 
 view 
 Thy fields with tearsome eyes; nor will the 
 
 hearth 
 Keep by his side, O Spring, earth's bubbling 
 
 mirth, — 
 The sun is near, reviewing tropic foams. 
 In Nature's carpets, flow'rs of varying hues 
 Are interwoven ; on the once shorn trees 
 Green caps, with tassels dangling in the air, 
 Make light and shade, where sight the distance 
 
 sees; 
 Ah ! Summer must succeed thee, and his breath 
 Shall parch the beaut'ous emblems of thy days! 
 
66 LiSisure: Mome:nts 
 
 II. 
 
 As with a brazen eye, the meadows green 
 Thou, Summer, dost survey, thy less'ning gaze 
 Of fierce regret must watch the nimble hours, 
 As slow they, number'd, lie for Autumn's 
 
 tread. 
 Hail, Summer ! swift to rent the veiled sky 
 With hurled darts, the earth's too tim'rous 
 
 throng- 
 Bewail thine anger, but with noisesome voice 
 Invoke thee blessings, while thy pleasures live. 
 Thy reign is ending; tender Autumn's cry 
 Will soon be heard, but never by thine ear — 
 A brother's ear, — ere long thee stark and cold 
 A leafy sepulture will cover o'er; 
 Whilst there thou dreamest. Autumn will re- 
 joice 
 For bounties, which thy fire now doth prepare. 
 
 III. 
 
 O Autumn, Autumn! thine it is to mourn 
 The year's decline, as o'er dead Summer's pile 
 Thy tending winds must soon their requiems 
 
 pore, 
 Whilst trees, and shrubs their headgears off 
 
 must throw. 
 And as the golden fields, and meadows green 
 Thou wouldst but garner, fill thy spacious 
 
 stores. 
 
L^isuR^ Moments 67, 
 
 That Winter's sunken mouth may, as afore, 
 Rich choose from what a gen'rous Spring did 
 
 sow. 
 How fickle are thy ways : the land, the sea 
 In thee feel Winter's touch, and Summer's 
 
 breath ; 
 Would that thy locks no traces of fled days 
 Betray, — the silv'ry hue of reverenced age. 
 Alas ! thou, too, must go with passing Time, 
 And take thy mantled rest beneath the snow. 
 
 IV. 
 
 None welcomes thee, grim Winter: thy cold 
 
 breath 
 Doth strike in vain the door, the window pane ; 
 By day, by night, the gen'rous hearth doth 
 
 spend 
 His moments in the Pleasures' company; 
 Without, the streams, which once the oceans 
 
 fed, 
 Lie glossy, dreaming; and asleep their might; 
 And Earth, beneath a blanket white and cold 
 Keeps warm the tender seedlings for Spring's 
 
 care; 
 Lest thou extinguishest his blazing hearth, 
 Far from thy haunts the sun betakes himself 
 To where a Spring's wan spirit was outdone. 
 And Summer's sprite well to succeed doth 
 
 strive ; 
 
68 L:eisuRE Moments 
 
 His northward journey, now begun, shall 
 
 bring, 
 Ere long, the welcome end of thy dread reign. 
 
 Ye, royal sons immortal of the year, 
 Of whom two, peers, contemporaneously 
 Divide earth's waste, which twain the tropic 
 
 leaves 
 You, — each, your portion of a hemisphere! 
 As Phoenix', e'er your dust must faithful bear 
 Again each future season but to rule 
 Anew, twice while the sun his yearly course 
 Pursues reviewing how the planets fare. 
 The concert of your blending pleases Earth, 
 And fittest colours gives in every tone. 
 Save where perennial breathes an aged Spring 
 'Neath summer skies o'ertopping autumn fields, 
 Which constant dress'd in gaudy em'rald, shew 
 No sunken trace of any passing year — 
 The ashen hue of age — hoar-frost, and 
 
 snow, — 
 The tropic tree sheds not a winter tear. 
 
LEISURE Moments 69 
 
 EVENING HYMN. 
 
 Ere my freed spirit hovers near 
 
 The dark still waters of Death's stream, 
 I pray that Thou my plea wouldst hear, 
 
 While lingereth the candle's gleam : 
 O Lord ! protect me while I lie 
 Unconscious 'neath this canopy. 
 
 The setting sun hath led to earth 
 
 The shades that rule the nightly hours ; 
 
 And now bereft of day's glad mirth, 
 I take content the lot that's ours: 
 
 O Lord ! let this my humble cry 
 
 Reach Thee from 'neath earth's canopy. 
 
 Soon in Earth's sombre mantle's fold 
 This frame awaits my soul's return; 
 
 But if from Life's day to Death's cold, 
 Long night I pass to fill my urn, 
 
 Then keep, Lord, for my soul on high 
 
 A place 'neath heaven's canopy. 
 
70 LEISURE MoMEiNTS 
 
 'GOD BLESS OUR ISLAND HOME." 
 
 Thou, land of tropic beauty! 
 
 Glad home of laughing rills! 
 May Heaven's 'special duty 
 
 Enrich thy dales and hills : 
 Thy bulwarks guard thy towers; 
 
 Thy moat, with corals strewn, 
 Protects thy shady bowers, 
 
 Which merry breezes tune : 
 Thou, child of England's valour ! 
 
 Thy sons' hearts beat with pride, 
 As peoples do thee honour 
 
 Afar, and at thy side. 
 
 The skies e'er paint at pleasure 
 
 The surface of thy seas, 
 And to thee fit climes measure, 
 
 Queen of the Antilles : 
 May God forever bless thee, 
 
 Thy children kindly care. 
 And rule thee with His mercy 
 
 Throughout the live-long year: 
 Our incense — pray'rs, we ever 
 
 Glad offer — rises free, 
 
LEISURE Moments 71 
 
 That thee He may dehver 
 From every misery. 
 
 Thou, home of heroes vahant, 
 
 Whose fires swept the seas ! 
 Their names, as stars, still brilliant 
 
 Illumine galaxies : 
 Though storms, and earthquakes shatter 
 
 Thine idols, queenly Isle, 
 Thy sons will never scatter 
 
 In fear of Nature's guile; 
 And e'en where Nature freezes, 
 
 Or where thy sailors roam, 
 There e'er will tune the breezes : 
 
 "God Bless Our Island Home." 
 
 PiNIg. 
 
By James A. Ritchey, Ph.D. 
 Psychology of the Will ^j^^^ 
 
 By Charles Hallock, M. A. 
 Peerless Alaska j qp 
 
 By Dwight Edwards Marvin. 
 
 Prof. Slagg of London 1.50 
 
 The Christman * j'cq 
 
 By Caroline Mays Brevard. 
 Literature of the South i.^o 
 
 By Susan Archer Weiss. 
 Home Life of Foe (3d ed.) i.^o 
 
 By Irving Wilson Voorhees, M.D 
 Teachings of Thomas Henry Huxley (2d ed.) . i.o© 
 
 By Mrs. Annie Riley Hale. 
 Rooseveltian Fact and Fable i.oo 
 
 By Hon. D. W. Higgins. 
 The Mystic Spring j c© 
 
 By Edith Nicholl Ellison. 
 The Burnt-Offering , ^ j^^ 
 
OUR NEWEST ISSUES 
 
 «^a<oo)2<o 7a<o '^)^^ y%'t^ 5)o(o$^S(ool^(^ 5^^(o ^fo/o vgVo o)a 
 
 
 
 By Alexandre Erixon. 
 The Vale of Shadows 1.50 
 
 By Mrs. Josephine M. Clarke. 
 The King Squirrel of Central Park (Juvenile) . .60 
 
 By William N. Freeman. 
 St. Mammon 1.50 
 
 By Mrs. I. Lowenberg. 
 The Irresistible Current 1.50 
 
 By M. Y. T. H. Myth. 
 
 Tales of Enchantment i.oo 
 
 A Tale Confided by the Woods 75 
 
 By Ida Blanche Wall. 
 Comedy of Petty Conflicts 1.25 
 
 By Elizabeth Helene Freston. 
 
 Poems (portrait) beautifully bound i.oo 
 
 Italians Fornarina (leather) 3.00 
 
 Compiled by Darwin W. Esmond. 
 Poetry of Childhood, by Paul Warner Esmond 
 (Memorial Edition) 1.50 
 
O UR NEWEST ISSUES 
 
 cxp '-p '^F) C^iP^ <-'^^ "^^^^S^ '^'^S^ ^^■b^ ^^'P '"^^? '^^^%S^ S^v.-^ '^'^ ^^>^ 
 oyoh oVofo ^jof o <?j^ <^}oro ^^loto o)o<5 ''ioT^Vo(oo>Woo>^(oc>g(oO^ 
 
 lyy^b <S~^ (^>^ (To^e^^a cro^ ft o^b (^-•g-^cyy^gfe'y^c^y-cgg'S^g osa 
 
 By Wilbert C. Blakeman. 
 The Black Hand o.^.. 1.50 
 
 By John W, Bennett. 
 Roosevelt and the Republic, , , . , o . . 1.50 
 
 By Hon. Joseph M. Brown. 
 
 (Governor of Georgia.) 
 
 Astyanax — An Epic Romance 1.50 
 
 By John Tracy Mygatt. 
 What I Do Not Knov/ of Farming 75 
 
 By Esmee Walton. 
 Aurora of Poverty Hill » . . 1.50 
 
 By Josephine Merwin Cook. 
 Bandana Days 75 
 
 By Howard James. 
 The Wraith of Knopf and Other Stories i.oo 
 
 By George Fuller Golden. 
 My Lady Vaudeville and Her White Rats .... 2.00 
 
 By J. A. Salmon- Maclean. 
 
 Leisure Moments 100 
 
 A Stricken City ,,.... , , , . .50 
 
Sam S. & Lee Shubert 
 
 direct the following theatres and theatrical 
 attractions in America : 
 
 i 
 
 Hippodrome, Lyric, Casino, 
 Dalys, Lew Fields, Herald 
 Square and Princess Thea- 
 tres, New York. 
 
 Garrick Theatre, Chicago. 
 
 Lyric Theatre, Philadelphia. 
 
 Shubert Theatre, Brooklyn. 
 
 Belasco Theatre, Washing- 
 ton. 
 
 Belasco Theatre, Pittsburg. 
 
 Shubert Theatre, Newark. 
 
 Shubert Theatre, Utica. 
 
 Grand Opera House, Syra- 
 cuse. 
 
 Baker Theatre, Rochester. 
 
 Opera Hou^e, Providence. 
 
 Worcester Theatre, Worces- 
 ter. 
 
 Hyperion Theatre, New 
 Haven. 
 
 Lyceum Theatre, Buffalo. 
 
 Colonial Theatre, Cleveland. 
 
 Rand's Opera House, Troy. 
 
 Garrick Theatre, St. Louis. 
 
 Sam S. Shubert Theatre, 
 Norfolk, Va. 
 
 Shubert Theatre, Columbus. 
 
 Lyric, Cincinnati. 
 
 Mary Anderson Theatre, 
 Louisville. 
 
 New Theatre, Richmond^ 
 Va. 
 
 New Theatre, Lexington, Ky. 
 
 New Theatre, Mobile. 
 
 New Theatre, Atlanta. 
 
 Shubert Theatre, Milwau- 
 kee. 
 
 Lyric Theatre, New Orleans. 
 
 New Marlowe Theatre, 
 Chattanooga. 
 
 New Theatre, Detroit. 
 
 Grand Opera House, Dav- 
 enport, Iowa. 
 
 New Theatre, Toronto.^ 
 
 New Sothern Theatre, Den- 
 ver. 
 
 Sam S. Shubert Theatre, 
 Kansas City. 
 
 Majestic Theatre, Los An- 
 geles. 
 
 Belasco Theatre, Portland. 
 
 Shubert Theatre, Seattle. 
 
 Majestic Theatre, San Fran- 
 cisco. 
 
 K. H. Sothern & Julia Mar- 
 lowe in repertoire. 
 
Margaret Anglin and Henry * Shore Acres." 
 
 Miller. 
 
 „- . . _ , Louis Mann in ** The White 
 
 Virginia Harned. Hen." 
 
 **ISBetey"'°^" "°'°"" "Th« Road to Yesterday." 
 
 Mme. Alia Nazimova. Henry Woodruff in ''Brown 
 
 of Harvard." 
 
 Thos. W. Ross in **The , _. 
 
 Other'Girl." "The Secret Orchard," by 
 
 ^ ,. , Channing Pollock. 
 
 Cecelia I^oftus. * 
 
 Clara Bloodgood. ^J°'\ Hopper in " Hap- 
 
 Blanche Ring. 
 Alexander Carr. 
 
 pyland." 
 Eddie Foy in *' The Orchid. 
 
 id.'» { 
 
 Diffbr Bell Marguerite Oark, in a new 
 
 ° ^ ' opera. 
 
 "The Girl Behind the .,^, 
 
 Counter." ^^e Social Whirl," with 
 
 The Light Kternal.* 
 
 Chas. J. Ross. 
 
 ..^t. o „ . ]s,m^s T. Powers in "The 
 
 "The Snow Man." Blue Moon." 
 
 Blanche Bates in " The Girl Bertha Kalich 
 
 from the Golden West." ..j^^j^ Kleschna." 
 
 David Warfield in "The 
 
 Music Master." ««The Man on the Box." 
 
 " The Rose of the Rancho," 
 
 with Rose Starr. Cyril Scott in " The Prince 
 
 Harrison Gray Fisk^'s Chap." 
 
 Attractions. «i « ^r i . »h * <. 
 
 ■r^. 1 • ,i^Z ^T " Mrs. Temple's Telegram.'* 
 
 Mrs. Fiske in "The New ^ 
 
 York Idea." "The Three of Us." 
 
 You cannot go wrong in selecting one of 
 these play-houses for an evening^s entertain- 
 ment in whatever city you may happen to be. 
 
Books for ^^The Battle 
 of Life'' ^ ^ ^ 
 
 The Instrument Tuned 
 
 By Rosa Bifch Hitt 
 
 Teaches how to regulate your physical system by 
 
 thought influences; how to get clear of nervousness, 
 
 restlessness and disease by learning to lAmJi: 
 
 health. Full of the newest ideas of the great New 
 
 Thought 
 
 $J.OO, postpaid 
 
 William HcKlnley 
 
 A Biography 
 
 By A. Elwood Corning 
 What greater incentive and inspiration to success 
 than the life of the great martyr-president I He 
 rose from the humblest beginnings — and the 
 memoir is written especially for men and women 
 who are "fighting their way." 
 
 Fully illustrated; gold? $1.25 
 
 BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 835 Broadway. New York. 
 
BOOKS YOV NVST READ 
 SOONER QR LATER 
 
 Told awt Twflight 
 
 By Eva Browne. 
 
 ^'^detightful collection of stories and po«nis}, 
 
 ^Author's photo.) 
 
 $ixx>. 
 
 Job Trotter 
 
 By Sylvester Field. 
 50c 
 
 A unique work, proving that the "earUily paradise" 
 of flie colored race is Africa. This book is decidedly 
 ^ best work that has yet appeared on the subject. 
 
 TKe S!i\ of Ignorance 
 
 Bv Henrietta Siegeu. 
 $1.00. 
 
 An exceedingly clever story, by a New York girl, who 
 ^pictures with a fearless hand the domestic misery result- 
 ing from ^ink and dissipation. 
 
 (4 special drawings.) 
 
BOOKS YOU MUST READ 
 SOONER OR. LATER 
 
 A T&le of the Revoltstlon 
 
 By WiLUBERT Davis and Claudia Branmom^ 
 
 i2mo, cloth. Illustrated. 
 
 $i.oo. 
 
 A~£ascinating story of the Revolutionary period, in 
 dramatic form, in which the treachery of Benedict 
 Arnold and the capture of Major Andre are the climaxes.] 
 The loves of Andre and Marcelle (herself a spy) lend a^ 
 very charming touch of romance. 
 
 TKe B\Erto£i Manor 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 By Rev. M. V. Browm. 
 I2mo, cloth. $1.50. 
 
 A "most thoughtful, able and authoritative work in 
 «sDga^ng narrative form, dealing with the existing evils 
 of the liquor trade. The author has wisely embodied 
 his conclusions in charming fiction — or fact? — and thus 
 ^l)Ci>k jrSI apF^a to a public as wide as the continent^ 
 
BOmiS YOU MUST REAP 
 SOONER OR LATER 
 
 Lost in the Mammoth Cave 
 
 By D. Riley Guernsey. 
 Decorated cloth, i2mo. Illustrated. 
 Price, $1.50. 
 A tale which a Jules Verne might envy from 
 his own vantage ground. Imagine the possibili- 
 ties for a story which are conjured up by the 
 thought of a party of brainy men and women 
 lost in the Mammoth Cave ! 
 A prominent reviewer says : 
 "This ought to be an immensely popular book. 
 There are no idle moments from cover to cover, 
 and it is one which the reader will not think of 
 laying aside until he has read every word." 
 
 Under the Darkness of the 
 Night 
 
 A Tale of West Indian Insurrection* 
 
 By Ellen Chazal Chapeau. 
 Cloth, i2mo. Attractively Produced. 
 Price, $1.00. 
 The scenes of this st:)ry are laid in Ste. 
 Domingue from 1792-93. It is a most timely 
 book, written by one whose life has been passed 
 among West Indians, and who can read the 
 African character Avith surprising skill and ac- 
 curacy. A wonderful picture of tropical life, 
 brilliantly depicted. 
 
 Bfoadway Fuhlkhing Company^ 
 
 636 Broadway, New York, 
 
BOOKS YOU M¥ST READ 
 SOONER OR LATER 
 
 GREY DAWN REFLECTIONS 
 
 By VIRGINIA BEALE LECKIE 
 
 This clever Washington girl has come close to 
 writing the wittiest and brightest book of epigrams 
 that has appeared in this epigram-mad age, A fev/ 
 samples % 
 
 A friend lies for— an enemy about — and a wife with— you. 
 
 If your grandfather made it in pigs you have a perfect 
 rigiit to look haughty when pork is served. 
 
 A married woman's troubled look at 3 A. M. is not so much 
 due to worrying " if" as to " how" he will come home. 
 
 The majority of women lay the first misstep to Cupid ; some 
 to the man; but it is a fact, if open to criticism, that curiosity 
 and the opportunity are often to blame. 
 
 Printed on grey antiqwe paper* Cover in grey- 
 red, green and gold* Marginal decorations in color. 
 Frontis medallion portrait of awthor in tedy sepia and 
 gold* Post-paid, $J.OO* 
 
 S^" What daintier holiday gift for your HIM ©f 
 HER? 
 
 BROADWAY PUBI.ISHING CO. 
 S35 BROADWAY, NEW YORK 
 
 ^ 
 
 4 
 
BOOKS YOV NVST READ 
 SOONER OR LATER 
 
 SOME MEN PAY 
 
 Ten thousand dollars for an expert to manage their adver- 
 tising. There are others who pay TWO dollars for an annual 
 subscription to Printers Ink— the leading journal for adver- 
 tisers and business men, published every Wednesday— and learn 
 what all the advertisers are thinking about. But even these are 
 not the extremes reached. Therr are me'- who lose over 
 $100,000 a year by doing neither one. 
 
 Young men and women who have adn ambition to better their 
 busihess by acquiring a thorough knowledge of advertising, and 
 who wish to become proficient in the art of writing advertisments, 
 are invited to send me ONE dollai? for a SIX illONTHS' TRIAL 
 SUBSCRIPTION to Printer's Ink and such information as they 
 may care to ask. Sample copy Tree. Address 
 
 Printers' Ink Publishing Co. 
 
 JO SPRUCE ST., NEW YORK. 
 
 BETWEEN THE LINES 
 
 VIOLA T. iMAXIMA 
 Cloth, 12mo. Dainty in style, thrilling in contents . $1 00 
 This is a story on the always interesting subject of an unfort- 
 unate marriage; a story of pique and lost opportunity. 
 
 Broadway Publishinof Company, 
 
 835 Broadway, New York^ 
 
BOOKS YOU MUST READ 
 SOONER. OR LATER 
 
 V/hy ffot Order J>fottf f 1 
 
 > »■ I . I I I jJ I J I - I I ■— — — — M« 'll . I<ll 
 
 Evelyn 
 
 rJtJStory of the West and the Far' East ^ 
 
 By Mrs. Ansel OppeIjiheim.j 
 
 4 lUus. $1.50. 
 
 Limited edition in leather, $2.00^ 
 
 [Ckc 9n*e bM spoken of Uls book with anqaatiaed teriM at pnlav, 
 
 The L&st of the Caveblleni 
 
 By N. J. Floyd. 
 
 ^ Drawings and Autfaor^s Photo; 
 
 $i*SO. 
 
 f^lfe vjt^r or more brilliant pen has told &e sjtcay of 
 /^eCifH War than Capt Floyd's; no wca^k tooce thriffing 
 ^ibijify as a r^Moance has recently been wli^un the reach 
 
BOOKS YOU NVST READ 
 SOONER. OR LATER 
 
 New Book by the Author of 
 
 A Girl and the Devil ! 
 
 We beg to amiounce for autumn a new novel from 
 .the pen of Jeannette Llewellyn Edwards, entitled 
 
 LOVE IN THE TROPICS 
 
 The scene of Miss Edwards' new work is laid in 
 (Strange lands, and a treat may be confidently prom- 
 tsed the wide reading public whose interest in her first 
 book has caused it to run through over a dozen editions. 
 
 "LOVE IN THE TROPICS" 
 
 «»/// be ready about /^otf ember i, and 
 particulars ttfill be duly announced.' 
 
 TTie New Woma^nhood 
 
 By WiNNIFRED H. COOLEV. 
 $1-25. 
 
 ^Ko more original, strikmg and brilliant treatise on 
 'flle subject indicated by the title has been given the 
 vast public which is watchmg the widening of woman's 
 sphere. Mrs. Cooley is a lecturer and writer of many 
 years experience; she is in the vanguard of the move- 
 ment and no one is better qualified to^^^ak to the great 
 tiea«t of wc»nankind. 
 
BOOKS YOU MVST READ 
 SOONER OR LATER 
 
 Llewellyn 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 By Hadley S. KlMBERLIWa^ 
 
 Ctoth. $1.50. 
 5 Illustrations by S. Klarr? 
 
 Here is a story whose artistic realism will appeal to 
 
 everyone, while its distinction as a serious novel is made 
 evident by its clever anaJysis, sparkling dialogue ajid 
 thrilling and powerful situations. "Llewellyn" will win 
 all hearts by her purity and charm. 
 
 •^ 
 
 Sawtaf\ of the Modem World 
 
 By E. G. Doyen.. 
 J2mo, cloth, handsomely produced. 
 
 The Sitle of this book will arouse curiosity r^adils 
 brilliant contents will fully reward the wide public whiicli 
 it will reach. 
 
 A Misso\&riai\*s ^Honor^ 
 
 By Wv W. Arnolds,. 
 
 Go^, i2mo. $u<XK, 
 
 ^ Illustrations.. 
 
OCT 6 1909 
 
1 iRPARY OF CONGRESS i 
 
 ■■^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ J, 
 
 015 929 270 8 •