PS 3521 
 
 .E57 L3 
 
 1907 = 
 
 .Copy 1 
 
 E>v«.cloruLs C K:exi.r>.e9r 
 
LAFAYETTE 
 
 AND 
 
 THE RUSTIC 
 RAMBLER 
 
 BY 
 
 EUDORUS C. KENNEY 
 
 (SPELLING SIMPLIFIED SOME) 
 
 CORTLAND, N. Y. 
 
 The Democrat Pkixtehv 
 
 1907 
 
? 6 -35^1 
 
 ( 
 
 Essays Against Stipei'stitioy, ISSU; Thusettes, 
 1S99; Some More Thusettes, 1905; Lafayette 
 and The Rustic Kambler, 19()7. Each 15 ( "ts. 
 The Author, Truxtou, N. Y. 
 
 {Copyright igoj by the Author] 
 
 By traDBfor 
 m\l 8 190? 
 
r 
 
LAFAYETTE. 
 
 Columbia, art thou a modern muse? 
 
 It matters not, I'll boldly thee invoke. 
 
 O, wilt thou now my long-ing- soul enthuse 
 
 To sing- a worthy lay of Lafayette? 
 
 A son of bloody revolutions two. 
 
 To his dear France and thee his heart was true. 
 
 Thou lovst him well; for in thy Capital 
 
 His statue has been raised before thy g"ate, 
 
 Where, as they pass, thy sons and daughters all 
 
 Behold him standing- midst his brave compeers. 
 
 He wears the continental uniform. 
 
 And seems to see War's distant rising- storm. 
 
 And hanging in thy legislative halls 
 
 Beside the portrait of George Washington 
 
 The handsome figure of my hero falls 
 
 Upon the vision of thy statesmen wise. 
 
 Columbia, he hath won thy tender heart; 
 
 Else why should thou embalin him thus in art ? 
 
 His father fell on Minden's battle field. 
 While sleeping in his cradle lay the babe; 
 And Liberty with doting eyelids kneeled, 
 And whispered; "This is my beloved Knight!" 
 In soft Auvergne arose the towered chateau. 
 Where slumbered then Oppression's bravest foe. 
 
 A frail and timid child, it hardly seemed. 
 He'd live to round out manhood's sturdy form; 
 But, while he still on boyish visions dreamed, 
 He found himself a royal musketeer; 
 And, scarce sixteen, in Cupid's blissful net 
 He was enmesht with Madame Lafayette. 
 
2 LAFAYETTE 
 
 At Metz within the frowning- citadel 
 He listened to the tales of strug-g-les dire 
 Across Atlantic's waves, when Brooklyn fell 
 And all the skies of patriots' hope were dark. 
 "I'll g-o and fight for them!" He cried with vim. 
 And Silas Dean a General made of him. 
 
 From France he quickly slipt away by stealth 
 In spite of friends and King- and youthful wife; 
 He gave up all, home, country, wealth. 
 And on the "Victory" to westward sailed. 
 O, wondrous love of Freedom, that excels 
 The music in his heart of wedding- bells ! 
 
 One balmy night in June at Winyau Bay 
 
 His light canoe skimmed smoothly o'er the wave, 
 
 And Nature's perfumed wildness seemed to say : 
 
 "Welcome, thrice welcome to our forest shores!" 
 
 And all the people shouted loud acclaim 
 
 As past from mouth to mouth his honored name. 
 
 From Congress came a stupid cold rebuff, 
 
 But Washington revived his soul with hope, 
 
 And from the first it was reward enuf, 
 
 To feel the approbation of One Man. 
 
 Dignity with fiery ardor met, 
 
 When Washington claspt hands with Lafayette. 
 
 What mean those drops now trickling from a wound? 
 They tell of that sad rout at Brandywine, 
 When he midst panic stricken men was found 
 With face set sternly toward the charging foe. 
 ■O, precious blood in Freedom's conflict shed ! 
 A Son of France has for Columbia bled ! 
 
 Behold at Gloucester the Hessians on the run ! 
 Twice they strove to stand, but Lafayette 
 Poured in a fire so hot, that everyone 
 Thought he was pickt to die that very night. 
 And Congress, warming now to his real worth, 
 JResolved, that he should have more men henceforth. 
 
LAFAYETTE 
 
 And then at Valley Forg-e that winter drear, 
 When feet were amputated frozen blue, 
 And Washing-ton was worried with the fear. 
 That all his men might leave before the spring-, 
 This Child of Luxury each hardship shared 
 And like the common soldier slept and fared. 
 
 When plotting- Conway and his vile Cabal, 
 Built on the lucky stroke of General Gates, 
 Soug-ht hard to bring- about our Father's fall, 
 And put a weakling- in supreme command. 
 Then Lafayette among-st the noble few 
 Stood firmest by him with a spirit true. 
 
 Sent north upon a foolish, wildg-oose chase 
 Away from Washing-ton, 'gainst Canada, 
 He feared before the world a rank disgrace, 
 And hastened back to join his worthy Chief. 
 Ah, no, he could not bear to fight apart; 
 United they forever brain and heart! 
 
 Sir William Howe, the ladies to surprise. 
 
 Laid plans to capture our gallant Marquis 
 
 And bring him as a trofy 'fore their eyes, 
 
 To swell the festive orgies at a ball. 
 
 But crossing o'er the Schuylkill he escaped. 
 
 And this bright hope with disappointment draped. 
 
 At Monmouth he dismounted from his steed. 
 To stem the current of a comrade's wound, 
 Tho useless proved his sympathetic deed, 
 For Death had claimed this hero as his own, 
 Sir Henry Clinton did the act admire 
 And gave the humane order, not to fire. 
 
 Congress covered him with praise deserved, 
 When in Rhode Island he turned back the tide. 
 Which set once more against our men unnerved 
 By tedious wrangles with the Count d'Estaing, 
 A task severe with troubles most replete, 
 To harmonize the army and the fleet. 
 
4 LAFAYETTE 
 
 The Ghoul of Fever fixt her claws on him, 
 
 And all the soldiers held as one their breath. 
 
 His firm hand trembled, flashing eye g-rew dim, 
 
 And for a while it seemed he could not live. 
 
 How narrow are the straights, which great men tread 
 
 Vibrating twixt the living and the dead ! 
 
 Then came the news, that little Henriette, 
 Who, when he left, could scarcelj^ lisp his name. 
 Was gone. "Will she, an angel now, forget 
 Her Papa?" Sad is absence, but most sad. 
 When infant spirits take their upward flight 
 And cannot kiss their father e'en good night ! 
 
 Reports were heard, that France would so-jn declare 
 
 A war herself against the English Isles. 
 
 The soul of Lafayette was now aglare 
 
 To cross the sea and with his brothers join. 
 
 He took a furlo from his foster land 
 
 And sailed away by western breezes fanned. 
 
 But afterward by angry tempest tost 
 
 The "Alliance" pitcht and rolled upon the swell; 
 
 The maintop mast was blown away and lost; 
 
 And Mutiny among the sailors iurkt. 
 
 Against these dangers boldly then he faced. 
 
 And thirty of the men in irons placed. 
 
 O, joy supreme ! He gazes once again 
 On sunny France and his dear waiting wife ! 
 And brimming o'er his cup ecstatic, when 
 A boy, the first, to them is born ! His name? 
 What could be chosen? Ah, there is but one 
 Upon the father's heart, George Washington ! 
 
 The sword, which Congress voted, now is his. 
 Presented by Ben Franklin's grandson, and, 
 Altho the plans 'gainst England ran amiss, 
 He filled his countrymen with love for us. 
 And hastened back with tidings most divine, 
 That soon would sail six vessels of the line ! 
 
LAFAYETTE = 
 
 Then traitor Arnold wove his hellish plot, 
 And Lafaj^ette was tang-led in its coils. 
 Thank Heaven, that but one such odious blot 
 Disgraced the record of our blessed land ! 
 He sat with thirteen others on the Court, 
 That sentenced Andre to his shameful mort. 
 
 The scene now shifts to fair Virg-inian fields. 
 "The Boy" and Lord Cornwallis play a game 
 Of "Hide and Seek." The weaker always yields 
 Eluding- his pursvxer. Washington 
 With Rochambeau and Count deGrasse join in, 
 And gloriously the final battle win. 
 
 Yorktown ! How the American heart doth leap, 
 When that grand victory to Heaven is sung ! 
 O, may we ever true and sacred keep 
 The memory of those, who helpt us then ! 
 And most of all our nation owes a debt 
 Unto that matchless hero, Lafayette. 
 
 Peace, sweet peace at last, but after vain 
 
 Weeks of bickerings among the men. 
 
 Who represented England, France, and Spain 
 
 In diplomatic tricks and villany ! 
 
 And Lafayette embraced the earliest breeze 
 
 To speed the glorious news across the seas. 
 
 "Come o'er and see us! I've a quiet room 
 
 Awaiting you 'neath Vernon's friendly roof. 
 
 And, now that we are free from War's dread gloom, 
 
 I long to view your face beloved once more. 
 
 We'll talk of old times and the happy morn 
 
 Of Liberty, which to our land is born." 
 
 Such was the message from our Father's heart 
 
 Sent over to his brave adopted son. 
 
 He came. And cannons roared from every part 
 
 A furious welcome never heard before. 
 
 From Florida to Massachusetts Bay 
 
 It was one wild impetuous holiday ! 
 
6 ' LAP^AYETTE 
 
 Hast heard about his farm, "La Belle Gabrielle," 
 Whereon he planned to free the colored slaves? 
 His keen profetic ear discerned the knell, 
 That later sounded o'er our nation's realm. 
 No rotten stone he wisht to be enwrought 
 Into the fane, for which he bled and fought. 
 
 "The American Republic will not last." 
 
 Said Frederick the Great to Lafayette, 
 
 As they were sitting- at a rich repast 
 
 Within Sans Souci's wall. "Yes, Sire, it will. 
 
 And I shall never rest content in France, 
 
 Until I see my people too advance !" 
 
 The streets of Paris now with blood are red. 
 Steady the beat of the heavy guillotine 
 Lopping at each fall a ghastly human head. 
 Under the midnight stars the tocsin rings 
 Its mournful dirge. And less alive than dead. 
 Women and children raving cry for bread ! 
 
 "We want powder for our wigs," remarkt 
 
 Jean Jacques Rosseau; "and that's the reason why 
 
 The people have no food !" France was embarkt 
 
 Upon a boiling sea of hate and wrath. 
 
 Extravagance at Court had run its course 
 
 And gold no longer could be got by force. 
 
 "How can we cross this yawning gulf?" The King 
 Cried out to his Calonne ; "What is to do?" 
 "Call in The Notables." The words did ring 
 Upon his royal ear with dismal sound. 
 And Lafayette appeared among the rest 
 With love of Freedom throbbing in his breast. 
 
 "Taxation only can be justified 
 
 By real wants of state." 'Twas thus he spoke; 
 
 And fawning courtiers raised their brows and cried : 
 
 "Put him in the Bastile!" But Lafayette 
 
 Then moved, that a Memorial be sent 
 
 Unto the King by the Council's President 
 
LAFAYETTE \ 
 
 Invoking- the old "States General." A shout 
 From Alps to Pyrenees the people raised; 
 For in this cong-ress they were not left out. 
 L/Ockt were the doors against the "Third Estate," 
 But in a Tennis Court they met and swore, 
 They would not part till tyrany was o'er. 
 
 "National Assembly" was their name. 
 And when the King- commanded to dissolve, 
 Mirabeau spoke up with face aflame : 
 "Go tell your Regal Master we are here 
 By the order of The People ! Lafayette 
 With the nobles workt this spirit to abet. 
 
 "The People's Friend" all over France was famed, 
 
 And one desire now occupied his soul. 
 
 To g-ive his land a Constitution framed 
 
 Upon the model of the United States. 
 
 And soon emerged his Bill of Human Rights 
 
 Amidst the mass of dread unseemly sights. 
 
 What means that rumbling on the Paris streets, 
 Which louder grows, as nearer comes a crowd 
 Wild for revenge? Now hark, the slogan greets 
 Your ear: "We storm today the old Bastile!" 
 It fell. And so the Revolution's on 
 And like a torrent gaining force anon. 
 
 Commander of the "National ^Guard," he tried 
 
 To save Foulon from death, and in the courts 
 
 Give him a chance. The populace defied 
 
 His power, and dragg-ed their helpless victim forth. 
 
 'Gainst Law and Order this a heinous sin, 
 
 He straig-htway sent his resignation in. 
 
 Then all the soldiers signed a firm compact. 
 
 And on his sword and honor each did swear, 
 
 That truly for the Nation he would act 
 
 And never disobey the Law. Profoundly 
 
 Toucht by this devotion of the men 
 
 He heard their prayer and took command again. 
 
» LAFAYETTE 
 
 A frantic woman marching- with a drum — 
 Others rushing- out and joining- in — 
 "Brread ! Brread ! Brread!" See, how they come! 
 Thousands shrieking wildly : "To Versailles ! 
 The King- ! The King- ! The cause of all our woe ! 
 To him ! Men, women, children, ho!" 
 
 And Lafayette must lead the new Cockades 
 Tricolored, and keep order in this mob. 
 About the King are many royal blades, 
 Who take not kindly to these National Guards. 
 Two days and nights the people surg-e outside 
 The palaces, wherein their King- doth hide. 
 
 "A plot! Save, save the Queen!" A midnight cry. 
 And Lafayette springs up — but not from sleep. 
 For there is none for him — and rushes by 
 The guards into the private reg-al rooms. 
 Then on the balcony occurs that scene, 
 When he before the People kist the Queen. 
 
 It's all arranged ! The King accepts ! Long- live 
 The Nation ! Back to Paris— the Hotel deVille ! 
 "The Royal Baker and his Wife will give 
 Us bread!" Weary Lafayette now writes 
 To Washington, and sends as friendship's seal 
 The Key that lockt so long the old Bastile. 
 
 The Constitution grows anon. And now 
 We'll celebrate upon the Champ de Mars ! 
 Three hundred thousand people will show, how 
 Parisians do not things by halves. And he. 
 Our Lafayette, is President, and more 
 Commander of the Guard. The thundering roar 
 
 Of cannonry announces, 'Tis begun ! 
 With music, banner, shouts, and revelry. 
 King, Assembly, troupers, priest, and nun — 
 Paris, France is one vast amphitheater! 
 And Lafayette upon his milk-white steed 
 Doth every evolution proudl3' lead. 
 
LAFAYETTE 9 
 
 A little respite 'mong-st the hills, and, lo, 
 War's murky clouds are g-athering- in the east ! 
 The royal refugees in steady flow 
 Pour o'er the borders, and stir up the King-s. 
 Once more at Metz, but this time in command, 
 For Law and Freedom he doth firmly stand. 
 
 But in the Capital the Jacobins 
 
 Push on The Revolution to excess. 
 
 His letter to the Assembly 'g-ainst their sins 
 
 Stirs up determination for revenge. 
 
 "Louis and Lafayette are leagued!" they said ; 
 
 "To the Tuilerees! The King ! We'll have his head!" 
 
 In Paris to defend his name, he found. 
 
 That all was changed. "Guilty of Treason," declared 
 
 The Assembly. King-, Queen, and Guard frowned 
 
 Upon the "Patriot Friend of the People." 
 
 "The Reign of Terror" with revengeful breath 
 
 Moves on resistless in its march of death. 
 
 A price was straightway put upon his head. 
 
 No longer stood the army true by him. 
 
 Across the border in despair he fled, 
 
 But fell into the King of Austria's arms. 
 
 At Wessel, Olmuetz, Magdeburg- confined 
 
 For five long- years in loathsome cells he pined. 
 
 The mouldy dungeon walls were six feet thick, 
 
 A ditch of stagnant water reeked beneath ; 
 
 At Olmuetz on a bed of straw lies sick 
 
 The hero of our tale. Alas, alas, 
 
 Unmerciful antithesis of Fate, 
 
 From heavens of love plung-ed in a mire of hate ! 
 
 His wife long pleading finds relief at last; 
 To her is granted one sweet boon, to share 
 His prison walls and limited repast. 
 With their two little girls, a loving group, 
 These four in sympathy conjoined again 
 Are sad and happy in their dismal pen. 
 
10 LAP^AYETTE 
 
 Now Bonaparte appears upon the scene, 
 And checks the Revolution with his guns. 
 He forces open prison doors, and e'en 
 The Austrian Monarch listens to his words. 
 Lafayette arrives in Paris with his wife. 
 And humbly thanks Napoleon for his life. 
 
 Retiring- to his dear "LaGrange" with her 
 He loved above all else, a few brief years 
 Of happiness flit by with naught to stir 
 The quietude. And then she past away. 
 Those anxious days of struggle, fear, and pain 
 Had proved too much for one poor little brain. 
 
 "Crier, call the Marquis deLafayette!" 
 
 'Tis done. "I beg your pardon, honored Sire; 
 
 Marquis am I no more. To pay a debt 
 
 Long owed by me, that rank was thrown aside." 
 
 Thus humbly spoke The People's Deputy, 
 
 And struck once more a blow for liberty. 
 
 A last exultant journey then he takes 
 
 With George to the young Republic of the West. 
 
 America with one accord now makes 
 
 The welkin ring in honor of her guest. 
 
 Congress declares for him a holiday 
 
 And listens to the fire of Henry Clay. 
 
 Up fair Mount Vernon's shady winding road. 
 His soul athrob with surging memories dear. 
 He climbs to gaze upon the calm abode 
 Of Washington and drop a loving tear. 
 Then midst huzzas and final sad good-byes 
 He bids farewell for aye to western skies. 
 
 In quiet Picpus' solemn burial grove 
 
 Midst martyrs from all earthborn trials free 
 
 Reposes now the man, who nobly strove 
 
 To liberate two lands from tyran}-. 
 
 "Rest Thou in Peace," the plain inscription reads 
 
 And at the grave the heart of Freedom bleeds. 
 
THE RUSTIC RAMBLER. 
 
 This is a story peculiar 
 
 Of a pedag-og- wand 'ring- away 
 From his little school-house on the hillside 
 
 To foreign cities and g"ay. 
 He leaves his youth-persuading- birch 
 In France and Germany to search 
 For wisdom, which in after years 
 He'll pour into his pupils' ears. 
 
 When he bid farewell to his mother, 
 She wrung- his hand in despair, 
 
 And said: "My boy, do be careful; 
 Dally not with those sirens fair. 
 
 Who in Berlin and Paris dwell 
 
 And lead young men strait down to hell. 
 
 Yield not to any vain allure; 
 
 Come back to us all bright and pure!" 
 
 His father prepared him a wallet 
 With medicines packt inside; 
 
 He thus could doctor his system 
 And on perfect action confide. 
 
 The labels each did well direct 
 
 How trubles dire he might correct; 
 
 To titen, loosen, sleep, or wake, 
 
 He had a special dose to take. 
 
 His name we will call Pedagogus, 
 Which telleth of his good trade. 
 
 And Rusticus cometh thereafter, 
 From excellent Latin made. 
 
 With these two titles we can sail 
 
 Serenely thru our simple tale. 
 
 And, when the meter one duth kill. 
 
 The other sure will fill the bill. 
 
12 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 He went by way of the Central, 
 
 Well nown because of Depew, 
 A senator telling- tuff storys 
 
 While colleagues push the bills thru, 
 T'ward Albany his course was bent. 
 Where many a plowman has been sent, 
 His district there to represent. 
 But campt instead in Mammon's tent. 
 
 He trudgd up and down the stairway 
 And along the Capitol halls, 
 
 And was greatly alannd by the echos, 
 That fell from the polisht walls. 
 
 His heavy boots with generus nails, 
 
 A remnant of his farm avails, 
 
 Resounded on the inlaid floor 
 
 Like distant thunder's awful roar. 
 
 And then he feard, the ceiling 
 
 Might tumble on his head. 
 For often in the papers 
 
 He had with sorrow read, 
 How millions had been squanderd here 
 In shoring up each toppling pier; 
 Foundashuns, superstructure, and 
 Integrity of men proved sand. 
 
 In an upper room hung the trofys 
 
 Of the war of sixty-one, 
 Old battle-flags torn and faded 
 
 By shot and a southern sun,. 
 "Why save these tatterd rags?" he said, 
 "Now that the issues all are dead. 
 Which set the grey against the blue, 
 And clove our nashun nigh in two ? 
 
 Let's bild a monster bonfire 
 
 And burn to one black spot 
 Every evidence of that conflict 
 
 'With its rankling haUeds hot. 
 
THE HUDSON 13 
 
 It is Columbia's deepest shame, 
 The ug-liest blot on her fair name, 
 That she could not end slavery 
 Without such vile brutality." 
 
 In the morning- he saild down the Hudson, 
 
 Oft calld the American Rhine, 
 On a steamboat named the C. Vibbard, 
 
 The finest old ship of the line. 
 He bot a g-uide-book with a map, 
 Which flew out in the wind flip flap, 
 And, had it not been for a friend, 
 He'd lost entire the New York end. 
 
 When he past that historic boulder, 
 Farfamed as "Anthony's Nose," 
 
 He searcht for the hole, where our fathers, 
 To worry our English foes, 
 
 Once stretcht a chain across the stream, 
 
 To catch their warships full abeam. 
 
 But tho he scand each foot of soil. 
 
 He naut could find but gargling oil. 
 
 At West Point he saw the students 
 
 Flirting with pritty maids. 
 Preparing thus for hard service 
 
 In skirmishes and raids. 
 'Tis said they lace in corsets tight. 
 To make their dress-suits fit aright; 
 They also bang- their hair with pains — 
 The Indians bang it on the plains. 
 
 Along the shore are manshuns. 
 
 The homes of eminent men, 
 Who fled out here by the river. 
 
 To escape from a New York den. 
 J. Gould, and Irving-, E. P. Roe, 
 Sam Tilden, Willis, thus they g-o; 
 We will not try to make a list 
 For fear some big--bug would be mist. 
 
14 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 At last, as he neard the city. 
 
 He g-azed on the tomb of Grant, 
 That man of deeds, but silent. 
 
 Whose requiem all will chant. 
 It stands projected 'g-ainst the sky. 
 Proclaiming- fame, that cannot die: 
 A general he of highest g-rade, 
 But statesmanship was not his trade. 
 
 On the pier in New York Pedagogus 
 
 By a welcoming friend was met 
 With a warm encouraging handshake, 
 
 That he'll not very soon forget. 
 They went straightway to wash and sup 
 At a boarding place in the air high up. 
 Where an old maid and her younger brother 
 Kept house content to love each other. 
 
 Quoth Rusticus: "This is quite proper; 
 
 Why should damsels be found 
 Galavanting about for new partners. 
 
 When their brothers are boarding- round?" 
 The next day, purchasing- a bill 
 Upon Berlin, his heart did fill 
 With joy, for as he lookt it o'er. 
 His cash seemed multiplyd by four. 
 
 He secured a second class ticket 
 
 On the steamer "P. Caland," 
 And paid for the same thirty dollars; 
 
 She would sail for Holland's strand 
 On Saturday at half past three. 
 Meanwhile he could Manhattan see. 
 It's Central Park and Stock Exchange 
 And other wondrus things and strange. 
 
 Of course he must do Coney Island 
 
 With its follies dizzy and gay. 
 Its merry-go-rounds and coasters 
 
 And merry maids in the spray. 
 
NEW YORK 15 
 
 "When a fellow comes out here to sport. 
 And bring-s his girl, lest he run short, 
 'Twere best to take excurshun rates 
 And buy round tickets with rebates." 
 
 Thus wisely spoke Pedag-og-us 
 
 On his way to hear Gilmore's band 
 
 In a concert with anvils and canons 
 To blld up the climax granH. 
 
 And then Pompeii was destroyd 
 
 Just as of old, tho more enjoyd, 
 
 And in the fireworks, strange to say, 
 
 Pulitzer burnd that self same day. 
 
 From a tower he viewd the city, 
 
 A monster human hive, 
 The bay and rivers around it 
 
 With a thousand craft alive. 
 Grandly swing- from shore to shore 
 The Brooklyn Bridg-es arching" o'er. 
 And holding- high her blazing- light 
 Fair Liberty commands the bight. 
 
 Now was a time for fasting 
 
 And prayer of serins kind, 
 The first to calm the stomach, 
 
 The second to quiet the mind. 
 For full twelve hours he nothing ate, 
 Tho tempting food filld high his plate; 
 He argued, that 'twould wasteful be, 
 To throw such good things in the sea. 
 
 "Farewell, farewell, Columbia ! 
 
 I've never left before 
 My native hills and valleys 
 
 For any foreign shore 1 
 I'll shed no bitter parting tears; 
 I'll bosom no depressing fears ; 
 If only I can stand this swell, 
 I'll rest ashured all else is well." 
 
16 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 So 'twas he murmurd softly, 
 
 As the city disappeard 
 Behind the blue horizon 
 
 And the twilight gently neard. 
 Then Emil Fisher by his bunk 
 With anxious mien talktof his trunk. 
 "I brot none," said wise Rusticus ; 
 "Impedimenta worry us." 
 
 A child of truble was Emil. 
 
 He had saild for this western land 
 To seek in Chicago a fortune. 
 
 That city of prospects grand. 
 But jumping from a cable car 
 While still it sped, he fell afar 
 And now must hobble on one leg 
 For from the other hung a peg. 
 
 "But I makes 'em pay," said Emil ; 
 
 "I sues 'em for Aq gelt, 
 Und it is tnit dees moneys 
 
 I'm bound for de alien welt. 
 But de lawyer, he so much has take, 
 I says : '■'■Ach Gott ! For HimnieV s sake ! 
 You Yankees, you no pitys feel; 
 Das Hemd from off my back you steal !" 
 
 The ship had scarce left its mooring, 
 
 When Emil turnd deathly pale 
 And ran like a chick to its mother 
 
 For the nearest quarter rail. 
 He went below, but Sunday morn 
 Recoverd from his inward storm 
 And in the sea a letter cast. 
 Since hope of mailing now was past. 
 
 When Louis, the courteus steward, 
 Rang the bell for the evening meal 
 
 Pedagogus went down to the table. 
 
 Just to see, how his stomach would feel. 
 
THE ATLANTIC 17 
 
 But, ah, the walls would not stand plumb, 
 And thru his system there did come 
 A turbulence; he rose in haste 
 And up the g-ang-way swiftly raced. 
 
 On deck he ag-ain was tranquil 
 
 And said : "I'll abide here to-night, 
 
 If these Dutchmen will only allow it ; 
 In the air I feel perfectly right. " 
 
 He crawld into his overcoat 
 
 And big fur cap, and while the boat 
 
 Went churning grandly thru the deep 
 
 He laid him down in peace to sleep. 
 
 At midnight the rumble of thunder 
 
 Awoke him from his dream. 
 And far away on the billows 
 
 He could see the lightnings' gleam. 
 And then he thot: "How can this be? 
 Why should rain fall in the sea? 
 Let its blessings rather pour. 
 On desert lands, that need it more." 
 
 Next morning he ate a biskit, 
 
 At lunch some coffee and toast, 
 And dinner-time found him devouring 
 
 A full bill-of-fare with roast. 
 But Emil groand from day to day, 
 For naut would on his stomach stay; 
 He'd look askance at Rusticus, 
 When on the deck he left a muss. 
 
 Now comes the jolly Herr Schulteis 
 
 With a bottle of Heneker beer; 
 He holds it on high triumfant 
 
 And says to the passengers near : 
 "I am dat statute in der bay, 
 De ship saild by de udder day, 
 Bartholdi mit her torch in hand ; 
 Beer is de light of efery land !" 
 
18 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Herr Schulteis liked Pedag-ogus ; 
 
 Companions were they for the trip, 
 And Rusticus brusht up his German 
 
 From his rollicking- comrade's lip. 
 Two frazes oft were on the breeze, 
 "What's the name of that?" and ''Wie heist 
 
 dies?'' 
 'Twas thus they sweetly did ag-ree, 
 And studyd both filolog-y. 
 
 The manner of serving- the table 
 
 Exhibited excellent sense. 
 Each viand was brot by the steward 
 
 In a common dish immense; 
 'Twas handed to the Second Mate, 
 Who first fiUd his official plate, 
 Then on its journey 'round it came 
 And everybody did the same. 
 
 'Tis a difficult thing- on the oshun. 
 To eat with consummate g-race. 
 
 The cups and saucers so often 
 
 Take a noshun each other to chase. 
 
 A piece of steak, as you suppose, 
 
 Starts for your mouth, but finds your nose ; 
 
 Your nabor by a slight mishap 
 
 Pours all her soup into your lap. 
 
 Herr Schulteis reduced to a system 
 
 The art of drinking- beer. 
 He would catch the opportune moment. 
 
 When the boat lurcht hard to the rear. 
 And then he'd raise the beaded cup 
 To his brig-ht and rosy visag-e up, 
 And with one smooth unbroken g^ush 
 The amber fluid down would rush. 
 
 When a passeng-er finisht his dinner, 
 
 In order not to entrench 
 On the patience of those beside him. 
 
 He climbed o'er the back of the bench. 
 
THE ATLANTIC 19 
 
 Sometimes, as he was doing- this, 
 His calculashuns ran amiss; 
 The ship went rocking- side to side 
 And caut him balanced there astride. 
 
 Too many there were for the places, 
 
 And every-one knew full well 
 The exact and happy moment. 
 
 When Louis emerg-ed with the bell. 
 We did not wait to hear it ring-. 
 But for the g-ang--way made a spring-; 
 Those left on deck dejected lookt; 
 For the second table they were bookt. 
 
 A musishan was wise Pedag-og-us ; 
 
 In his satchel he carryd a flute. 
 And often on deck in the g-loaming- 
 
 To the porpuses he would tcot. 
 Once Emil wanderd out that way 
 And askt, if he mig-ht try to play? 
 He took the pipe and fiUd it well— 
 With his last dinner, sad to tell ! 
 
 Rusticus also wrote verses, 
 
 An ailment hard to be cured, 
 If it once sinks deep in the system ; 
 
 The patient should be immured. 
 While the sailor-boys sang- with joyful tone. 
 He stood far g-azing mute and lone, 
 And soon upon our spirits fell 
 This most depressing- dog-gerel : 
 
 THE KILLING OF THE STEER. 
 
 We were four days on the oshun 
 
 And a calm was o'er the deep 
 The easy rocking moshun 
 
 Had lulid us all to sleep, 
 
20 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 When there came a cry from starboard : 
 "We are ahiiost out of meat !" 
 
 And a g-roan went back from larboard : 
 "Aw, there's nothing more to eat !" 
 
 Cahnly midst all this confushun 
 Stood the cook a drinking- beer: 
 
 And remarkt: " 'Tis an iUushun; 
 Men g-o for'd and kill the steer." 
 
 As was proper, in the steerage 
 He had made his quiet trip. 
 
 At New York he lost 2i pierage, 
 
 And the steward could not tip. 
 
 To the deck they firmly bound him 
 And with big- nives slasht him up. 
 
 All the tourists gathered 'round him, 
 Then went down and filld the cup. 
 
 O, a -fearful death to suffer ! 
 
 Pity him, the noble steer ! 
 If the water had been ruffer, 
 
 He'd had something worthy fear. 
 
 But as 'twas he stood and grumbled, 
 For he felt too close confined; 
 
 While the engines heaved and rumbled 
 Nothing more was on his mind. 
 
 Such the suffering of the masses, 
 To their fate defenseless led, 
 
 Sacrifized for higher classes. 
 Die that others may be fed. 
 
 One afternoon Herr Schulteis 
 
 Burst forth in a German song, 
 
 And, when he had reached a finish. 
 Another past it along. 
 
 And one by one, we each did sing 
 
 Some plaintive pert, or funny thing,. 
 
THK ATLANTIC 21 
 
 Till finally, left all alone, 
 Pedagogus sangf with feeling- tone : 
 
 TiouGHNiOGA. (Tee-oth-nee-o-g-a) 
 
 On the green shores of the Tioughnioga 
 
 Smoking his long pipe Conduca once dwelt, 
 
 And for his dauter, the sweet Altahala, 
 Noble Kenotah love's deep longing felt. 
 
 But there was war then against the dread Mingos, 
 And they stole sweet Altahala away; 
 
 Long sought Kenotah in vain for the maiden. 
 In his canoe he saild many a day. 
 
 On a high bank of the Tioughnioga 
 
 Sweet Altahala sat watching one morn, 
 
 Watching with dark eyes for her brave Kenotah, 
 Singing a love song so sad and forlorn. 
 
 Then in the distance a white plume came floating, 
 "Worn by Kenotah, to her heart well known; 
 
 Soon they were lockt in each other's embraces. 
 There by the butiful river alone. 
 
 Tioughnioga, O, Tioughnioga ! 
 
 Butiful river, that winds down the vale, 
 Rippling o'er pebbles and kist by the willows, 
 
 Glist'ning in sunlight and swept by the gale. 
 
 'Twas just high noon of Wednesday, 
 
 The eleventh day of our trip, 
 When the Fourth Mate climbed the rigging 
 
 Of our good old Holland ship. 
 He hookt one arm around a rope, 
 Lookt thru his trusty telescope. 
 And shouted down with accents bright: 
 "The Scyllis Islands are in sight!" 
 
22 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Then every heart beat quicker; 
 
 For to g-aze from east to west 
 Forever upon blank w^ater 
 
 Is a dreary thing- at best. 
 "The sailor loves the brine, they say ; 
 The balloonist in the air may play, 
 But I'm content to take my stand 
 On good old level solid land." 
 
 Thus audibly spoke Pedagogus, 
 As the islands came in view. 
 And we straind our eyes to discern them 
 
 With a longing deep and new. 
 The sailors painted fore and aft, 
 The oshun swarmed with little craft, 
 Herr Schulteis pledgd the world meanwhile, 
 And even Emil hatcht a smile. 
 
 And now we're plowing the Channel, 
 
 Old England plainly in sight, 
 And France, just a glimpse of her outline 
 
 Close down to the sea on the right. 
 We struck a fog and all night long 
 The whistle moand its dismal song, 
 To warn small boats, that flit across 
 From shore to shore, 'gainst total loss. 
 
 To the left are the rocks of Dover, 
 
 A bold and chalky ledge 
 High o'er the waves, and windmills 
 
 Seem critically near the edge. 
 Herr Schulteis and his jolly pards 
 Have broken off their game of cards ; 
 They're parachuting o'er the rail 
 Their bills for lager dark and pale. 
 
 And see on the top the Castle, 
 
 In story much renownd, 
 Far above the feudal village. 
 
 On which its towers frownd ! 
 
THE ENGLISH CHANNEL 23 
 
 Here vaunting- barons bold and free 
 Held pritty maidens on their nee, 
 While toiling- subjects down below 
 Perspired and curst their days of wo. 
 
 Soon we took on a pilot, 
 
 And Rusticus carefully rote : 
 '■''Goevee Mass eii Bro7iwershaven,^^ 
 
 The legend upon the boat. 
 "What do you want of that?" we said; 
 He smiled and sag-ely scratcht his head : 
 "It has a strang-e mysterius look; 
 I'll need it, when I print my book." 
 
 As we moved along- the delta 
 
 Of the river all serene, 
 The peasants waved their kerchiefs 
 
 From the banks so soft and green. 
 Sleek cattle lying on the grass 
 Raised their meek eyes to see us pass. 
 And windmills smoothly turning 'round 
 Pumpt water, but gave out no sound. 
 
 But what deliberashun 
 
 In coming into port ! 
 Doctors and trunk-inspectors 
 
 Held each his tedius court ; 
 The tide came up so very slow; 
 We waited for a harbor tow; 
 The sailors seemd to take a year. 
 To pull the ship 'round by the pier. 
 
 Herr Schulteis was "all seas over," 
 
 When he landed at Rotterdam, 
 But Rusticus felt quite sober. 
 
 And was meek as a cosset lam. 
 Not a word of Holland Dutch knew he, 
 A stranger far across the sea, 
 He gript his grips and sallyd forth, 
 Not heeding whether east or north. 
 
24 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Boys tryd to take his bagg-ag-e, 
 But he firmly shook his head; 
 
 This means the same wherever 
 It happens to be said. 
 
 Soon "Hotel Frankfurt" met his view; 
 
 Frankfurt was German, that he knew. 
 
 He marcht into its open door 
 
 And set his lug-gag-e on the floor. 
 
 He was met by a nice old lady, 
 
 Who had the happy tact 
 Of perceiving- what he wanted, 
 
 Tho the proper words he lackt. 
 She showed him to a feather bed, 
 And soon beneath its snowy spread 
 He slept but all night seemd to be 
 Still tossing on the restless sea. 
 
 Next morning down at breakfast 
 
 In a corner sat but two; 
 At the table with Pedagogus 
 
 Wds a maiden fair to view. 
 They ate in silence for a while. 
 Then with a bashful winning smile 
 He said : "What language do you speak; 
 Italian, Spanish, French, or Greek?" 
 
 She blusht like a summer sunset, 
 
 And said : "O, none of these four, 
 But only American English; 
 
 I am from Baltimore. 
 I'm going back on the "P. Caland" 
 To my own, my dearest, Maryland." 
 And then the> chatted thru the meal, 
 And like old comrads seemd to feel. 
 
 And now for a Dicshunary 
 
 From English into Dutch 
 And back again; he'll need it 
 
 In conversashun much. 
 
rottp:rdam 25 
 
 He found a Feller pocket size, 
 Two volumes, just a little prize. 
 To talk or listen all the same, 
 'Twill surely get him in the g-ame. 
 
 He must also have a guide-book, 
 
 A Baedeker, cover red. 
 With this upon his person 
 
 He can boldly forge ahead. 
 Ah, how the scoundrel fellows frownd, 
 Who laid in wait to show him 'round I 
 In Europe they infest each nook, 
 And worse than hell they hate this book. 
 
 Instead of a dollar the florin 
 
 Is the money unit here, 
 Some forty cents in value; 
 
 It threw him out of gear. 
 Everything he chanced to buy 
 Figured up confounded high ; 
 'Twas just the way it would have been, 
 If William Bryan had gone in. 
 
 To day that promist letter 
 
 Is given to the mail, 
 To catch the first ship westward, 
 
 That shall the oshun sail. 
 "God speed ye, little missive true 
 On wings of steam across the blue I 
 Go find our humble cottage white 
 And make two anxius bosoms light!" 
 
 Thus murmurd Pedagogus, 
 
 As he pusht the letter in 
 The slit outside the office, 
 
 Where its journey must begin. 
 Streets are narrow. Houses lean. 
 But Rotterdam is strictly clean; 
 For the good wives look to things 
 In their caps with spiral springs. 
 
26 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Rusticus saw them next morning- 
 Each in front of her door, 
 And they did not rest from scrubbing- 
 
 Till the pavement was like a floor. 
 He wandered on, where fish were sold, 
 And here found women young- and old, 
 Who seemd a special joy to feel 
 In scaling- perch or skinning an eel. 
 
 The Statue of Erasmus 
 
 ' Stands in a public square. 
 Like Doctor Martin Luther, 
 
 A man to do and dare. 
 The secret veil he punctured thru 
 Which hid hypocrisy from view. 
 His "Praise of Folly" made a hit; 
 Both fools and wisemen laft at it. 
 
 For supper, room and breakfast, 
 The bill was ninety cents. 
 
 Which paid, he hot a ticket 
 
 For The Hague and started thence. 
 
 The name of Holland's capital 
 
 Is mispronounced by Yankees all; 
 
 The Dutchmen make it rime with fog; 
 
 That is, they call it simply Hog-. 
 
 The cars are light and jaunty; 
 
 You enter at the side; 
 Each secshun holds ten people. 
 
 And no more ever ride. 
 You sit and gaze into the face 
 Of the pritty maid, who has the place 
 Exactly vis-a-vis to you 
 With eyes of brown, or grey, or blue. 
 
 The Hague is a butiful city. 
 
 And firmly planted here 
 May the Fane of Peace shine brighter 
 
 Till War shall disappear. 
 
THE HAGUE 
 
 In the Royal Picture Gallery 
 Rembr ant's "School of Anatomy" 
 Divides with Potter's "Bull" the praise 
 Of all, who critic's eyebrows raise. 
 
 The Binnenhof struck Pedag-og-us 
 
 With a feeling- akin to awe; 
 For here have dwelt stadtholders 
 
 From Maurice of Nassau 
 Down to the present day. And, when 
 One thinks of deeds these famus men 
 Have done within its ancient halls. 
 He feels that Time speaks from the walls. 
 
 And so in the Kirk calld Groote 
 You walk over burial stones, 
 Which for centurys have coverd 
 
 The underlying- bones. 
 Long since the friends haveceast to mourn, 
 And countless footsteps smooth have worn 
 Accustomd paths, where strangers tread 
 Above the couches of the dead. 
 
 Just a word about the Sabbath 
 
 Of a typical Holland town; 
 Not a mite of your Puritanic 
 
 Long--drawn face and frown. 
 But in the streets the children play 
 And fly their kites the live-long- day; 
 The parks with joyus lafter ring- 
 And working peeple breathe and sing-. 
 
 At Amsterdam the palace 
 
 Is finisht all inside 
 With finest polisht marble. 
 
 The King- doth here abide 
 Six days each year. The Castellan, 
 When Rusticus with care beg-an 
 To reg-ister his name and place 
 Of birth, put on a puzzled face. 
 
28 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Americans in Europe 
 
 Must hail from cities grand; 
 There is no other method 
 
 To make folks understand. 
 So Pedag-ogus was put down 
 As coming- from that wondrus town, 
 New York! His bosom swelld with pride 
 So big it almost crackt his side. 
 
 A family from Dublin 
 
 Went with him on the trip, 
 And many a roguish sally 
 
 Fell from the father's lip. 
 Due admirashun first was paid 
 To frescos fine by Rubens made; 
 Torn battle-flags next met the view — 
 He said : "They are be ribbons too !" 
 
 In the dining hall was a coal-stove 
 
 Made in The United States, 
 And Rusticus calld attenshun 
 
 To its nicely working grates. 
 The son of Erin quickly turnd 
 And, while his cheeks refulgent burnd. 
 Said: "I believe you Yanks could sell 
 The divil stoves to warm up hell ! 
 
 This remark shockt Pedagogus. 
 
 And in Holland there seemd to be 
 In the names of common places 
 
 Too much profanity. 
 The cities, steamboats, street-cars, all 
 His timid nature did appall. 
 How harsh to read upon a tram: 
 "Harlem, Central Station, Dam!" 
 
 When he purchast a third-class ticket 
 
 For Hanover, Germany, 
 "Make haste, dear Sir," said the agent; 
 
 "Your train leaves immediately." 
 
AMSTERDAM 29 
 
 Pedag^ogus in a nervus rush 
 Peeple, right and left did brush, 
 Reacht his car with beating- heart, 
 But waited long- for it to start. 
 
 "Make haste, indeed," he repeated. 
 
 And broadly began to smile; 
 These Dutchmen can never hurry; 
 
 They should live in Chicago awhile!" 
 The doors are closed and all is well; 
 Three strokes upon the stashun belJ, 
 Three little trills, and with a scream 
 The engine feels the pressing steam. 
 
 And now we are leaving Holland, 
 
 A fertile land and free 
 Brot down from Alpine mountains 
 
 And spread out in the sea. 
 A long and arduus road she trod 
 Beneath Spain's persecuting rod; 
 She made the sea itself a flood 
 To wash away the tyrant's blood. 
 
 Over the plains of Prussia 
 
 We're speeding lightly along, 
 Watching the toiling peasants 
 
 And humming a sweet folk-song. 
 Denmark once ruled here supreme. 
 Then beneath a new regime 
 The Hanseatic League of towns 
 Spread its influence o'er the downs. 
 
 The Kaiser now triumfant 
 
 Reigns with firmest hand. 
 The rail-roads are oflishal 
 
 And by his servants mand. 
 Uniforms of blue and red 
 'Round the trains a briliance shed; 
 Everywhere a marshal tone, 
 Strictest disiplin is shown. 
 
30 thp: rustic rambler 
 
 When the cars sweep by a crossing- 
 There at attenshun mute 
 The flag-man stands like a statue, 
 
 Then g-ives the soldier's salute. 
 No cow-catchers can be seen — 
 Cows are kept in pastures green — 
 Eng-ine bells you will not hear, 
 For the track is always clear. 
 
 It was verging- toward evening- 
 
 And Rusticus desired 
 To reach his destinashun 
 
 Before folks had retired. 
 As thus he mused, came in the car 
 A man, whose name was Wolkenhaar. 
 He wiped his honest looking- brow 
 And said: "You come and see my f ran. 
 
 Me and my old woman, 
 
 We keeps a small Gasthaiis 
 In the city 'round the corner 
 
 By the Market Church daraus.'" 
 In rapid German this he spoke, 
 And Pedag-og-us often broke 
 Into the current of his speech. 
 And "slower, slower" did beseech. 
 
 When he arrived at Hanover 
 
 And traverst the stashun g-rand 
 Out into the "Platz of Augustus," 
 
 His pupils beg-an to expand. 
 Around a semi-circular park 
 Fine building-s loomd up thru the dark, 
 And in the center towering- high 
 An equestrian statue caut his eye. 
 
 The Gasthaiis was a relic. 
 
 Of Medieval times 
 With many a curius feature 
 
 To weave into our rimes. 
 
HANOVER 31 
 
 A driveway led strait thru one end 
 From which the g-uests atni^ht ascend, 
 Or enter, where the brig-ht Bar-maid 
 With foaming- steins supplys her trade. 
 
 Toward the street a g-able. 
 
 And from the roof of tile 
 The little dormer windows 
 
 Seem down on you to smile. 
 There was no need to further seek 
 For board and lodg-ing-s; by the week 
 Three dollars was the modest price. 
 The terms were settled in a trice. 
 
 Low was the chamber ceiling- 
 
 And heavy wooden beams 
 Projecting- formed a framework 
 
 In which to set his dreams. 
 Standing- close ag-ainst the wall 
 Was a yellow stove and tall; 
 From its top lookt down a snipe 
 And on the table lay a pipe. 
 
 Herr Wolkenhaar left him a candle; 
 
 "Sleep well, my Sir!" he said. 
 Then Rusticus solved the problem 
 
 Of the German feather bed. 
 Two there are, 'tween which you go. 
 One above and one below. 
 Midst their soft capashus folds 
 King- Bug- his mad carousal holds. 
 
 Everywhere were soldiers 
 
 In street and car and store. 
 For stashund at Hanover 
 
 Was the whole Tenth Army Corps. 
 Infantry improves a lad, 
 But cavalry makes him look sad; 
 He strides so much that like an O 
 His leg-s assume an outward bow. 
 
THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 One day we went to the barracks 
 
 To see the fellows ride, 
 And heard some vigorus German 
 
 To the first year men applyd. 
 One fell off so often, that 
 The red-faced officer and fat 
 
 Said: "Hey! Are you a d d sand-hare? 
 
 Or do you think it's time for prayer?" 
 
 The tall impressive column 
 
 Of Waterloo holds high 
 The names of Hanoverians, 
 
 Who on that field did die. 
 Eight hundred ! No one reads them o'er; 
 Endless record writ in gore ! 
 'Round this monument now drill 
 Boys, who future lists will fill. 
 
 Rusticus bot some blackberys 
 
 In the market on the square; 
 His thots flew home to the brambles 
 
 Where they grow so big and fair. 
 ''Wie vielP' he askt the comely Frau. 
 "■Ein Groschen.'' Ah, his German now 
 Was useless, so he shook his head.' 
 "■Zehn Ffennige,'' the woman said. 
 
 He went to the Royal Theater; 
 
 An opera was sung, 
 "The Merry Wives of Windsor," 
 
 Shakespeare in the German tung. 
 Mosenthal the music wrote, 
 Rich and sprightly every note. 
 Falstaf's torture ends the play. 
 Imps and fairys in ballet. 
 
 On high in the "Amphitheater" 
 
 Pedagogus found his seat 
 Conducted by a maiden 
 
 In comel}^ garb and neat. 
 
HANOVER ^3 
 
 Much embarast was our youth, 
 When the g-irl slept up, forsooth, 
 Reacht to him her little hand 
 And spoke. He could not understand. 
 
 But soon she vanisht softly 
 
 In the shaded lig-ht and dim, 
 And that she was an usher 
 
 Then slowly dawnd on him. 
 Women work in many ways 
 That would Yankee maidens daze; 
 Pitching- hay, and weeding- roots, 
 Shoveling coal, and blacking- boots. 
 
 What a fruitful source of culture 
 
 Is the modern Opera House ! 
 To be pityd is the mortal, 
 
 Whom Art can not arouse. 
 Music, Painting-, Sculpture aid; 
 Poetry, and Science, laid 
 Upon the altar of the play, 
 Bless the peeple day by day. 
 
 At half past nine 'twas over, 
 
 Time for the aftermath 
 Of lag-er-beer and pretzels, 
 
 The Cierman's stomach bath. 
 ''Ges7md/ieit," ''prosit," glasses clink; 
 Everybody takes a drink, 
 Then ''giite nacht,'' at evening's end 
 All their homeward journeys wend. 
 
 And now for "Herren Hansen," 
 
 A fine old classic Schloss 
 With acres of park and garden 
 
 And a fountain wundergross ! 
 Two hundred twenty feet and two 
 The water shoots with column true, 
 Then breaks into a fairy spray 
 And downward finds its glistening way. 
 
 3 
 
34 THE RUSTIC ramblp:r 
 
 The sun was shining brightly, 
 
 And in the water's sheen 
 A lovely little rainbow 
 
 Was shimmering- 'gainst the green. 
 Quoth Rusticus: "We must suppose, 
 Before the Flood no fountain rose. 
 Or cataract fell in the glen, 
 To sort the colors out for men !" 
 
 Soon came the superintendent 
 
 And with offishal key 
 Screwd off the current slowly, 
 
 That ran so forcibly. 
 Lower, lower with each turn, 
 It sank at last into the urn 
 Gurgling forth its discontent 
 At this enforced imprisonment. 
 
 "Here is a lucky fellow!" 
 
 Said Rusticus that day, 
 As he cond the trusty guide-book 
 
 In his usual thoro way ; 
 "The Royal Stables he doth keep, 
 And from the visitors must reap 
 A handsome income, for, I see, 
 He is allowd to take a fee." 
 
 Nervusly the horses 
 
 Stept 'round at our approach. 
 And archt their necks expecting 
 
 To be harnest to the coach. 
 Of color white or slightly cream, 
 Stallions, mares, a perfect dream 
 To one, who loves his eye to feast 
 Upon this noble knowing beast. 
 
 ''Alles besetzt!'' was the edict 
 
 He heard from a passing car. 
 
 As it glided along serenely 
 
 And left him watching: afar. 
 
HANOVER 35 
 
 Europeans demand a seat; 
 They'll stand waiting" in the street 
 Rather than to surg-e and squeeze. 
 And punch each other with their nees. 
 
 At the Old Market Church on Sunday 
 
 In Luther's Fatherland 
 Only women and children 
 
 Composed the faithful band. 
 * 'Where are the men?" he slowly said, 
 And later in the paper read, 
 That for the Zoolog-ic Park 
 Twelve thousand peeple did embark ! 
 
 Varius combinashuns 
 
 Musical and otherwise 
 Performd as best they were able 
 
 To charm the ear and eyes. 
 Hang-ing- on one chap was seen 
 Harmonica, bells, tamborine, 
 Triang-le, cymbals, and a drum ; 
 Prrrp, ting- a ling, slam, bum bum ! 
 
 How little wist Doctor Luther, 
 
 When he burnd the Papal Bull, 
 That the blessed cup of freedom 
 
 Would run so brimming- full ! 
 Science, Art, and Modern Thot 
 Into Germany have brot 
 Students from all o'er the g-lobe 
 Nature's secrets here to probe. 
 
 If you buy a hat in Hanover, 
 You may try it for a day; 
 The dealer will keep the old one, 
 
 Till you come and take it away. 
 Rusticus still wore his straw, 
 But the winds were growing- raw; 
 He now appeard in a German cap 
 With shining- vizor and big- earlap. 
 
36 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Brunswick claims Gaus and Lessing-, 
 
 Two men of worthy fame ; 
 One made in Mathematics, 
 
 The other in Letters, a name. 
 If historic rings you'd see, 
 In the Duke's Museum free 
 Mary Queen of Scot's behold, 
 Or Luther's doctorate of g^old. 
 
 In a church is the tomb of Jurgens, 
 
 Inventor of the Spinning- Wheel — 
 Long- since he has gone to Heaven, 
 ^heve ya7'-ns are purely ideal. 
 "By our fireside on the farm 
 Mother's soft and graceful arm 
 In those days of simple bliss 
 Often turnd a wheel like this." 
 
 Thus lovingly spoke Pedagogus, 
 
 As he left the ancient pew 
 For the "Windmuehlenberg, " a hillock, 
 
 Commanding an excellent view. 
 New York still lingerd in his mind. 
 That mammoth mill of endless grind; 
 Here calmd is all such nervus strife 
 In restful, sweet, artistic life. 
 
 Our stay was brief in this city ; 
 
 Rusticus longd for a room 
 With a bed, a chair, and a table, 
 
 A wash-bowl and a broom. 
 While each day abroad he'd roam. 
 This to him would be a home, 
 A regular place to take him in. 
 And his mind had centerd upon Berlin, 
 
 Magdeburg in transit 
 
 Reminds him of the pump 
 
 By Otto vonGuericke invented. 
 
 And how the school-girls jump, 
 
MAGDEBURG 37 
 
 When the hemisferes divide 
 
 By atmosferic pressure tied; 
 
 The first were monsters, as it seems, 
 
 For hitcht to them were two ox-teams ! 
 
 The butiful suburb of Potsdam 
 
 Toward noon his eye did greet. 
 And a vanishing- g-limps of "Sans Souci" 
 
 Great Frederick's favorit retreat. 
 Once alited from the train, 
 Rusticus spoke out amain : 
 "I'm now, where long- I've wisht to be. 
 In the Capital of Germany !" 
 
 Baediker told Pedag-ogus, 
 
 That a Vereins Haus was kept 
 By the Evang-elical Union, 
 
 And the first night there he slept. 
 But horrors, what a dismal place I 
 He saw with wry disgusted face 
 Blank walls and mortals deep perplext 
 With fears of this world and the next. 
 
 After a miserable breakfast 
 
 He saunterd down the street 
 In search of brighter quarters 
 
 Economical and neat. 
 Over an entrance would appear : 
 "'Ein moblirtes Zimmer hier.'" 
 He'd ring the bell and up would go; 
 A Frau would then the apartment show. 
 
 He found on "Hollman Strasse, " 
 
 At number twenty-two. 
 With a certain good Frau Hoyer 
 
 A room he thot would do. 
 A widow struggling 'gainst the tide 
 Upon the fourth floor did abide; 
 A felon on one hand she bore, 
 But kept at housework as before. 
 
38 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 The price for room and Friiehstueck 
 
 Was five and twenty Marks 
 Per month, and, as he wanderd 
 
 Thru avenues and parks, 
 He'd buy a frugal mid-day lunch 
 And all alone would sit and crunch 
 Upon some mossy mound or bench 
 His donuts like a country wench. 
 
 Frau Hoyer came in next morning-. 
 
 While he was still a-bed. 
 And left him a cup of coffee 
 
 And a g-enerus cut of bread. 
 This experience was quite new. 
 And o'er his clieeks a scarlet hue 
 Rusht, as she an instant glanced 
 Where he so sweetly lay ensconced. 
 
 '■'■Mein Herr, you must make an Anmeldung, 
 
 Said she that very day, 
 And 'round to the Polizei stashun 
 
 She piloted him straitway. 
 Here an officer in charge 
 With head and constitushun large 
 Pryd into his history, 
 To see if he might risky be. 
 
 There was more or less confushun, 
 And the magistrate then said : 
 "Have you no pass or paper. 
 
 Which may in proof be read?" 
 "A letter yes, from Andrew White," 
 And at the word it came in sight. 
 "Leave this, my Sir, eight days with us." 
 "As you desire," said Rusticus. 
 
 About seven in the evening 
 
 On the last day of the eight, 
 
 As tho unto a Baron 
 
 Or Lord of high estate. 
 
39 
 
 A uniformd policeman came 
 And handed Rusticus the same. 
 Perhaps the name of Andrew D. 
 Someone before had chanced to see? 
 
 "Why are you suspishus 
 
 Of every fellowman, 
 Who comes into your city, 
 
 From Beersheba or Dan?" 
 Said Rusticus, as home they went. 
 "Since France is aye on veng-ence bent; 
 Her spys are lurking- everywhere, 
 'Tis well to have a little care." 
 
 Thus spoke the g-ood Frau Hoyer 
 
 In chosen words succinct, 
 So that to him the meaning 
 
 Shone forth clear and distinct. 
 '^Langsam, langsam,'" he would say, 
 When her tung- ran wild away; 
 For woman's the same the wide world o'er, 
 In a wrestle of speech no man can throw her. 
 
 "My niece is coming- tomorrow, 
 
 And will live with us awhile; 
 You'll have fine times tog-ether," 
 
 Said she with a knowing smile. 
 Why do mating- birds in spring- 
 Brighter, sweeter music sing? 
 Why is't the heads of men do whirl 
 At the mention of a pritty g-irl? 
 
 Direct for "Unter den Linden" 
 
 Rusticus set his pace. 
 This is the heart of Deutschla7id, 
 
 The pride of the German race. 
 Palaces and statues grand 
 Along the spashus Slrasse stand ; 
 Architect with sculptor vies 
 To fascinate your wondering eyes. 
 
40 THE RUSTIC KAMBLEK 
 
 As here he was leshurly strolling-, 
 
 Marking- the rich display 
 Of butiful things in the windows 
 
 Of the arcade passag-e way, 
 Seated in a g-reat arm-chair, 
 With thotful brow and silver hair 
 And cheeks of slig-htly ruddy hue, 
 Victor Hugo met his view ! 
 
 Near by was a simple notice, 
 
 "Admishun fifteen cents, " 
 And waxen was the figure 
 
 With expreshun so intense. 
 He enterd, and just by the stair 
 He saw above a maiden fair 
 Smiling pertly down on him; 
 He trembled weak in every limb, 
 
 And blusht, as he past the damsel, 
 But dared not look at her, 
 
 For over his glassy eyeballs 
 
 Came a foggy, feverish blur. 
 
 And then the words, his mother spoke 
 
 At parting, on his spirit broke. 
 
 No; to such wiles he would not yield. 
 
 With rapid stride away he heeld. 
 
 "Behold how low in citys 
 
 The common moral tone, 
 When in such public places 
 The people will condone 
 Temptashuns held before the youth. 
 To lead him far from paths of Truth, 
 To chase vile fantoms flitting down. 
 Where sin doth every virtue drown!" 
 
 Thus murmurd Pedagogus, 
 
 As he neard the "Kaiser Saal," 
 
 Where, the Royal Group observing, 
 Each like a mammoth doll. 
 
BERLIN 41 
 
 Another g-irl more modest stood 
 In peasant dress and simple hood; 
 A visitor in town she seemed — 
 That she was wax, he never dreamd, 
 
 For he could see her moving- 
 
 The head from side to side, 
 And her eye athwart the figures 
 
 Attentively would g-lide. 
 But she remaind so very long-. 
 He knew at last, that he was wrong-. 
 And then the daisy on the stairs 
 Lost all her terrors unawares. 
 
 About four hundred and eighty 
 
 Specimens may be seen, 
 So do not try to exhaust them. 
 
 But leave a few between 
 The principal ones, as you pass along 
 Amidst the staring motly throng, 
 That slowly winds from room to room 
 In "Castan's Wax Panopticum. " 
 
 Here's a mythical scene from "Sneewitchen," 
 And there is "Good Queen Bess," 
 
 Yonder is Tintorretto; 
 
 With tragic carefulness 
 
 He views his dying dauter's face, 
 
 And on the canvas he doth trace 
 
 The ag-onys that rack the heart. 
 
 When soul and body tear apart. 
 
 Read the warning by that window, 
 
 "If nervus, don't look in." 
 A maiden is awakening, 
 
 Who evidently has been 
 Buryd alive in the Catacombs. 
 Midst ribs, skulls, shanks, and gastly gnomes, 
 Which in these grotos dank abound. 
 She opes her eyes and looks around. 
 
THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 She trys to squeeze out of the coffin, 
 
 But the heavy stones above 
 Yield not, tho she looks to Heaven 
 
 And prays to the God of Love. 
 For masks and hands of heros dead, 
 Whose deeds are done and words are said, 
 Relics of Bonaparte also, 
 A hurryd g-lance, and on we go. 
 
 Here is the Berlin Congress 
 
 Around a table grand 
 Sitting, all but Bismark, 
 
 Who speaking now doth stand. 
 O'er "Eastern Question" much perplext. 
 Their countenances calm or vext. 
 You notice, that more than the rest 
 Disraeli is the one addrest. 
 
 Around the room are generals. 
 
 Kings, and men of fame; 
 Kant, Goethe, Schiller, Lessing — 
 
 Just a few we'll name — 
 Washington stands also there, 
 Darwin, Wagner, and Voltaire, 
 Garfield, Gladstone, Pius IX, 
 And hosts of others fill the line. 
 
 We'll omit the "Chamber of Horrors;" 
 
 Enuf has already been seen 
 To fill ten nights of slumber 
 
 With fantoms yellow and green. 
 As Rusticus his exit made. 
 Now that he did not feel afraid. 
 He riskt a sly glance on the stair 
 At the waxen flirt still smiling there. 
 
 And now to the Royal Palace 
 
 He turnd his earnest face, 
 Where in a pair of scuff ers 
 
 He skated wiih native grace 
 
43 
 
 Upon the costly inlaid floors 
 By tapestrys, thru ample doors, 
 Midst old historic souvenirs, 
 And under gordeus chandeliers. 
 
 And this great Schloss is haunted; 
 
 Orlamunde's shade 
 Appears as a wierd "White Dady" 
 
 And then away doth fade. 
 Her children, it is said, she killd, 
 Two little hearts forever stilld, * 
 
 That she to Albert might be wed — 
 Sbe's kept a walking, now she's dead. 
 
 In America all are rascals; 
 
 So, when you have a check. 
 Good identificashun 
 
 Must be ready at your beck. 
 In Europe you are thot all right. 
 And paper draws the cash on sight. 
 Rusticus met no vain defer; 
 The banker said: "How much, my Sir?" 
 
 Marie was the name of the maiden, 
 
 Who came to Frau Hoyer's next morn, 
 
 And a dearer and sweeter one never 
 To this world of struggle was born. 
 
 Every day she went to work 
 
 In her shop — no use to shirk; 
 
 For girls must eat and girls must toil, 
 
 Tho from such lives their souls recoil. 
 
 In the evening she'd bring Pedagogus 
 
 His supper and sit by his side, 
 And sip from the very same tea-cup, 
 
 And her trubles to him confide. 
 She had a fine soprano voice 
 And from the "Lieder-Schatz" a choice 
 Array of songs they quickly learnd 
 And sang with warmth, that fairly burnd. 
 
44 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 The words were frequently laden 
 
 With tenderest sentiments, 
 And often Marie would wonder, 
 
 If Rusticus caut the sense. 
 When two voices sweetly ring-, 
 Soon two hearts will also sing-. 
 Ah, what ecstasys of bliss 
 Mig-ht result from songs like this: 
 
 NEVER LONELY. 
 From the German of Pius Allexander Wolf, 1820. 
 
 Lonesome am I not alone. 
 
 For of thee divinely sweet 
 
 Floats an imag-e all my own 
 Ever near iny soul to g-reet. 
 
 Brig-ht, entrancing-, like a star, 
 Unapproachable, and still. 
 
 Ever near, yet far, so far ! 
 All my being- it doth fill. 
 
 If I g-o, or if I stay. 
 
 All I feel, or wish, or do, 
 
 Joy or sorrow, day by day 
 I am living- just in you. 
 
 A museum, what is its object? 
 
 Why do great citys hold 
 Such marvelus collecshuns 
 
 Of specimens untold ? 
 That folks may while away an hour 
 In Science's delig-htful bower? 
 That ruling- nabobs may appease 
 The pride, that doth their nature tease? 
 
 Or that the thirst of collectors 
 
 May thus be satisfyd? 
 All these are proper answers 
 
 And to the truth allvd. 
 
45- 
 
 But more important is the end, 
 That they shall some assistance lend 
 To thinkers, who the facts may bind 
 In theorys for all mankind. 
 
 We live on cherisht theorys, 
 
 Built often in our youth 
 By others, before we're able 
 
 To weigh a mite of truth. 
 In later years we sometimes wake, 
 Reconnoissance around to take, 
 And find that Faith is put to rout 
 By that unwelcome warrior, Dout. 
 
 But what is this, your "theory?" 
 
 Only an artful pile 
 Of blocks on no foundashun, 
 
 That stands but a little while? 
 Not so; it is a general truth 
 Workt out by many minds, forsooth, 
 And like a pendulum it acts, 
 Swings ever closer to the facts. 
 
 Thus to the great Museum 
 
 Of Zoology at Berlin 
 From every clime and countrj' 
 
 The specimens have been 
 Gatherd carefully and set, 
 So that students each may get 
 Sweeping views or speshal ones, 
 As desire within him runs. 
 
 "Come here! Come here! O, sister, 
 
 This pritty butterfly 
 Is like the one exactly 
 
 We captured, you and I !" 
 "Not quite, tny brother, on the wings 
 I see a marking, as it clings 
 Upon the flower, that ours has not, 
 A stripe and here and there a dot." 
 
46 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 "Well, that is a curius mammal, 
 A cross of a wolf and a dog- ! 
 Perhaps it may have a bearing-, " 
 
 Says our thotful pedagog-, 
 "Upon the habit, always found 
 In dogs, of turning- round and round 
 E'en now, when they lie down to rest — 
 Years g-one 'twas done to make a nest." 
 
 Such are the little snatches 
 
 Of conversashun heard. 
 As slowly on one passes 
 
 With quiet wonder stird. 
 Each family is so arrang-ed. 
 That you may see, how it has changed, 
 While in an endless bitter strife 
 It strugg-led hard for food and life. 
 
 "Now I'm bound for the Aquarium!" 
 
 Said Rusticus with vim. 
 As he walkt up "Unter den Linden" 
 
 With a rapid step for him. 
 You enter here and "presto change," 
 A picture wierd, unique, and strange ! 
 Grottos, where snakes glide on the rocks. 
 Or tie themselves in body-locks 
 
 Around projecting branches 
 
 Of now and then a tree, 
 In which bright birds are chirping 
 
 In native liberty. 
 Below doth sleep the crockodile. 
 And, lest she should her skirts defile. 
 The crane stands holding them so high, 
 That her slim legs may shock your eye. 
 
 The winding way you follow 
 
 And soon along the sides 
 Appear two rows of caverns. 
 
 And everyone provides 
 
47 
 
 A home for some attractive form 
 
 Of life. They're filld with water warm 
 
 Or cold, to suit the fastidius wish 
 
 Of coral, sea anemone, or fish. 
 
 In front are plate-glass windows, 
 
 And artifishal lig^ht 
 Thrown from above illumines 
 
 Each. It is a sight 
 Amusing-, to watch a star-fish crawl 
 About, as tho to make a call; 
 He finds a mossy crevice brown 
 And, being- tired, he sits him down. 
 
 You will linger by the medusa, 
 
 To see it locomote ; 
 A mass of transparent jelly 
 
 Serenely now doth float, 
 When suddenly it feels a spasm — 
 Like hicups, when a fellow has'em — 
 The umbrella then turns rong side out. 
 And back again, thus moves about. 
 
 Rusticus orderd coffee 
 
 At the little restaurant. 
 The maid brings from a grotto 
 
 The delicacys you want. 
 How strange to eat beneath the ground 
 With animals all scatterd 'round! 
 You seem to hear a distant knell 
 From days, when man was but a cell. 
 
 Why is a crowd of peeple 
 
 Gatherd about that cage? 
 Something most interesting 
 
 Their attenshun doth engage. 
 Awakend lately from a nap 
 An ape is holding in his lap 
 And fondly kissing his dear wife, 
 As oft occurs in higher life. 
 
48 thp: rustic kambler 
 
 "Do you notice that chimpanzee? 
 
 He sitteth down so much, 
 That his posterior calluses 
 
 Have developt to beat the Dutch ! 
 When 'round the stove at Miller's store 
 We sit and talk the country o'er, 
 It is "revershun," now I see; 
 Ancestral traits are working- free." 
 
 Thus filosofized Pedagog-us, 
 
 And ascended to the street, 
 Where "Tunnel to the Aquarium" 
 His searching- eyes did greet. 
 Descending once again he found 
 A dancing hall, and spinning round 
 Sweet girls, who very cordial were. 
 And to a hug would not demur. 
 
 He fled abasht to a street-car 
 Bound for the Berlin "Zoo." 
 
 The housing here is tasty 
 
 And pleasing to the view. 
 
 Lions and tigers feel at home. 
 
 Children freely 'round do roam. 
 
 And cake and pea-nuts love to toss 
 
 In to the great rhinoceros. 
 
 Most of the inmates are quiet. 
 
 But the dogs benumb your ears. 
 
 They have lived mid civilizashun 
 So many many years, 
 
 That bark they must by day and night; 
 
 A burglar always seems in sight. 
 
 'Tis silly here to keep it up. 
 
 This pride of being- a bonton pup. 
 
 At four p. M. a concert 
 
 By a military band 
 On Sundays is the custom 
 
 Of this great German land. 
 
49 
 
 Week-days you can pay a Mark 
 And with the wealthy view the park, 
 But on the Sabbath all is freer, 
 Including- Wurst and lager beer. 
 
 When Rusticus returnd that evening 
 
 He was met by sweet Marie 
 With a smile, as she brot his supper 
 
 And pourd something in his tea. 
 "What is that ?" he said in Dutch, 
 And tasted with a dainty touch. 
 Her red lips formd a witching drum 
 And rolld out musically : "RrrrumI" 
 
 They were limited in talking, 
 
 And, what they could not saj-. 
 They had to make apparent 
 In some expressive way. 
 The eyes can speak — O, what sweet thot 
 Strait from the soul thru them is caut ! 
 And, when two mortals clasp the hand, 
 There's something felt, both understand. 
 
 She was greatly pleased with her Yankee, 
 
 And, when he made a mistake 
 In his Deutch, she'd correct it so slowly. 
 
 That her jaw would almost break. 
 If something funny bubled out. 
 She'd clap her hands and laff and shout, 
 And 'round the room would wildly hop. 
 Till he had fears she'd never stop. 
 
 Berlin is a historic city. 
 
 It, was once composed of two; 
 Koelln was the name of the sister. 
 
 Before they together grew. 
 Brandenberg, at first did hold 
 The Margrave's goodly chest of gold, 
 But afterward there seemd to be 
 More fun for him upon a Spree. 
 
 4 
 
50 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Now comes the Hoheiizollern 
 
 Fritz with the Iron Tooth, 
 Chews up the city's freedom, 
 
 And builds a Schloss, sans ruth. 
 Joachim was a Protestant 
 And War's grim skeleton and g-ant 
 Stalks hereabouts for thirty years, 
 While populashun disappears. 
 
 The Elector Frederick William 
 
 Built a new town on the spot 
 And named it for his Dorothy 
 
 Dorotheanstadt . 
 He had the forests cleard away. 
 And planted lindens, where to day 
 You stroll along- that royal street 
 With every modern art replete. 
 
 Then the French were foolish 
 
 And revoked the Edict of Nantes, 
 
 And peeple rusht by thousands 
 To Berlin for a chance 
 
 To earn an honest livelihood. 
 
 O, that rulers understood. 
 
 That men, who Freedom's flag- unfurld, 
 
 Are the benefactors of the world ! 
 
 Industry, art, and letters 
 
 Now begin to thrive, 
 And sixty thousand workers 
 
 Are in this German hive. 
 Frederick William First, the crank. 
 Who formd his Giant Guards in rank, 
 Died in due time and left the state 
 Unto his son, young Fritz the Great. 
 
 Grand buildings now are rising. 
 
 Lessing and Nicolai, 
 Mendelssohn and Chodowiecki 
 
 Are in the public eye. 
 
BERLIN 51 
 
 Frederick courted French savants 
 And with Voltaire danced quite a dance, 
 Meanwhile was fighting- all the world — 
 Three armys joind he backward hurld. 
 
 Under Frederick William Second 
 
 French was laid aside 
 And rug-ged sturdy German 
 
 To the drama was applyd. 
 Then came Frederick William Third, 
 And guns of Bonaparte were heard 
 Raising War's tumultuus din 
 In the streets of old Berlin. 
 
 The University is founded. 
 
 Humboldt, Ritter, Boch 
 Hegel, Schleirmacher, 
 
 And Shinkel form a stock 
 Of names, that on world pages shine — 
 I'm glad to have them writ on mine. 
 The last, a sculptor architect. 
 Soul into granite could inject. 
 
 The Fourth Frederick William 
 
 Was an artisan himself. 
 And the noble builder, Shinkel, 
 
 Lay on Death's dusty shelf. 
 Drake and Blaser showd their hand. 
 Railroads coursing thru the land 
 Berlin to other citys bound, 
 And Commerce freer channels found. 
 
 Then comes Emperor William 
 
 And the victory over France; 
 Germany united 
 
 Doth rapidly advance. 
 Bismark binds the northern states 
 In a union which the Fates 
 Do favor much, and on she rolls — 
 Berlin now claims two million souls. 
 
THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 "The Balance of Power in Europe" — 
 
 Most delicate the swing-, 
 Of fickle equilibrium, 
 
 Which weal or wo doth bring- 
 To helpless peasants at the plow 
 Or bourgeoisie ; \\\Qy dream not, how 
 The jelusys of ruling- courts 
 Necessitate g-reat ships and forts. 
 
 France, Germany, and Russia, 
 With Eng-land are the four, 
 Which play the g-ame forever 
 
 Of diplomatic lore. 
 Behind these principals are found 
 The weaker nashuns standing 'round — 
 Of late we see a change of plan; 
 In step Columbia and Japan. 
 
 How we long to delve back in the story 
 
 Of man before he could write ! 
 Those strange miraculus ficshuns 
 
 Emerging from the night ! 
 The Royal Museum has a hall 
 Where weapons, trinkets, urns, and all 
 Such ancient relics may be found 
 B rot forth from many a cave or mound. 
 
 Upon the walls are paintings 
 
 Of olden German gods, 
 Who awed the early peeples 
 
 With superstishus rods. 
 Oden, the Father, much adored, 
 Hertha for harvests was implored, 
 Baldur, the Savior, full of love, 
 And Hulda, sweet domestic dove. 
 
 Here are Odur and Freya 
 
 Upon a battlefield 
 Marking with blood the heros 
 
 By valiant deeds reveald 
 
53 
 
 As worthy the warior's paradise; 
 
 To Valhalla they will rise, 
 
 Forever there the sword to wield 
 
 In fights, where wounds are daily heald. 
 
 And yonder scene is Helheim, 
 
 The icy abode of those, 
 Who on soft beds of sickness 
 
 Their eyes at last do close. 
 Here are wickd devils too, 
 Loki and Hel, of darkest hue, 
 Norms, Titania, elves and sprites, 
 And Thor, who fire from Heaven smites. 
 
 All this seems utter nonsense 
 
 To twentieth century folks, 
 Material for satire 
 
 And other sorts of jokes. 
 But how about that apple tree, 
 Which Eve gazed on so longingly ? 
 And Jonah's fishy submarine? 
 Not every fool knows, what they mean. 
 
 Too young is our Columbia 
 
 To have a mossy lore 
 Of myths and legends hoary 
 
 To tell to children o'er. 
 The redman's soul is full enuf 
 Of marvelus poetic stufl^, 
 But this does not our mind confuse; 
 Our fairy tales come from the Jews. 
 
 What joy is in a letter. 
 
 When it flys across the sea 
 
 With news of home and Mother, 
 And Father writes, that "We 
 
 Received your lines from Rotterdam, 
 
 Safely brot by Uncle Sam. 
 
 All the stock is doing well. 
 
 We have lots of hay to sell. 
 
54 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 John and Em are marryd. 
 
 The Joneses have a boy. 
 Molly has three kittens." 
 
 Unassuming- plain alloy 
 Of common things, but vital still 
 In the life of Morg-an Hill ! 
 Since the missives have beg^un, 
 Back and forth they'll freely run. 
 
 Now^ for a trip to Potsdam ! 
 
 October v^^ith its tints 
 Of yellow, maroon, and orang-e. 
 
 From which the sunlig-ht g-lints 
 In showers of golden buty rare. 
 Bids us throw aside each care. 
 As would the famus Frederick 
 Amidst his wars heartsore and sick 
 
 With a bottle of ready poison 
 
 Conceald within his vest; 
 "Sans Souci" was the palace 
 
 To which he fled for rest. 
 It is a simple bilding- low 
 Desig-ned for comfort not for show, 
 Approacht by flowery terraces 
 And hedg-d around with shrubs and trees. 
 
 From below a graceful fountain 
 
 Shoots a hundred feet in air. 
 And near is the statue of Flora — 
 
 He wisht to be buryd there. 
 The clock which Frederick used to wind 
 In good repair within you'll find; 
 It stopt, when his heart stopt 'tis said^ 
 All those, who know, are long since dead. 
 
 His faithful hound and charerer 
 
 Sleep 'neath this hallowd soil — 
 
 A hundred years of slumber 
 
 ^rom hunt and war's turmoil! 
 
POTSDAM 55 
 
 God rest their bones! We'll walk along- 
 To where yon wind-mill sing-s its song: 
 "Me His Highness could not buy; 
 I fand the breezes 'neath his eye. " 
 
 There's a way most expedishus 
 
 O'er tedius roads to pass, 
 Just stand upon a hillside 
 
 And g-o by opera glass. 
 So 'twas that Rusticus did flit 
 To "Ruinenberg" and gently lit 
 On a counterfited ruin for 
 The cover to a reservoir. 
 
 In the Park are soldiers' quarters, 
 
 Selected men the best 
 Drilld hard to g-et perfecshun 
 
 And then to teach the rest. 
 The Orangery with flowers is filld 
 And plants exotic here are tilld. 
 Archt openings invite the eye 
 To follow vistas thru to sky. 
 
 Graceful milk-white statues 
 
 Of lovely women nude 
 Delight the eye artistic 
 
 Or shock the mind of the prude. 
 Unconcernd in a mossy dell. 
 Where dripping water on her fell, 
 A maid lay in sweet purity. 
 While squirrels friskt about her nee. 
 
 Rusticus chanced to stumble 
 
 On the little Japanese house 
 Coverd with curius figures 
 
 Which will a smile arouse. 
 For each doth lack an eye or ear 
 Or nose or fing-er, something queer. 
 Frederick calld it "House of Apes," 
 As 'round he rambled plucking grapes. 
 
56 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Let's step in the Residence Palace; 
 
 Both Fredericks have lived here. 
 It is full of old mementos 
 
 To the German peeple dear; 
 The ink-stained table of the son, 
 His music-stand, flute solo done 
 By himself, a table vi^hich 
 Went dow^n below^ without a hitch. 
 
 He thus could dine w^ith no servants 
 
 Standing- in the room. 
 Secrets course thru their noddles 
 
 Like water thru a flume. 
 The old man painted naked maids — 
 They look like brainless wornout jades- 
 "/« Tormentis ," he from g-out. 
 They from something- worse, no dout. 
 
 The father would cudg-el Fritzy 
 
 Thoroly with a cane 
 And then go g-randly skating 
 
 On rollers down a plane. 
 When Pedagogus saw the place 
 He shouted with a radient face: 
 "Hurrah for our United States, 
 Old Frederick First, and roller skates!' 
 
 In the Garrison Church the ashes 
 
 Of these illustrius men 
 Await the final trial 
 
 Of mortal creatures, when 
 They too like common folk must stand 
 Before the Judge with lifted hand. 
 Some call him Time, some History, 
 Some Nature, some Infinity. 
 
 Pedagogus had used the method 
 Of "doing-" the place in a day. 
 
 And, plodding back to the stashuii 
 His weary lonely way, 
 
He heard the chimes rinjj;- out a tune, 
 Which oft at morning-, eve, or noon, 
 In other days rolld down the dell. 
 To cheer his heart at Old Cornell. 
 
 While homeward he was speeding- 
 Thru the window he could see, 
 How carefully the Germans 
 
 Look after every tree 
 Of the forest. Cleared away 
 Are briars and underbrush for aye, 
 And as the monarchs fall apace. 
 Vig-orus saplings take their place. 
 
 That night, when good old Morpheus 
 
 Our hero's couch did bless 
 With his most welcome presence 
 
 And many a soft caress, 
 Rusticus was wandering still 
 Around Sans Souci's gentle hill. 
 And midst low, smoky, plasterd walls 
 ^'Dreamd, that he dwelt in marble halls.' 
 
 Marie had brot her time-piece 
 
 And hung it in his room. 
 It was a family treshure, 
 
 A preshus old heir-loom. 
 Its weights ran nearly to the floor, 
 And oft in striking it would pour 
 A stream of peals into the air. 
 Announcing time, that made him stare. 
 
 That night it struck twelve and eleven 
 
 All at one spiel, you see; 
 And thus mid his slumbers came ringing 
 
 The hour of twenty-three ! 
 He sprang from bed with ihrobbing head. 
 And muttering to himself he said: 
 "Day after to Morrow ! Hear that bel^ I 
 I've slept two nights as sure as hell !" 
 
58 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Marie essayd to learn Eng-lish 
 From Otto's Grammar, which 
 
 Rusticus hot second handed. 
 
 In a charming- musical pitch 
 
 She'd sound such words as "to" and " 
 
 But our "th" she could not do. 
 
 "Don't laff" she said; "its awful hard! 
 
 His haw-haw on her nature jard. 
 
 He was prog-ressing- in German, 
 Tho his dull ear faild to catch 
 
 A complicated sentence 
 
 Thrown at him in a batch. 
 
 If some lengthy speech he'd try, 
 
 In the middle prone he'd lie; 
 
 Then in segments one by one 
 
 He'd deal it out, till all was done. 
 
 "The Strug-gle for Existence," 
 Darwin's wonderful words, 
 And "Survival of the Fittest;" 
 
 The theologian girds 
 His armor on to fig-ht these terms, 
 For here he sees destructive germs, 
 That may his business undermine 
 If they're not squelcht in nick of time. 
 
 Not long- ago derided. 
 
 Or totally unnown. 
 To day each g-reat world thinker 
 
 Adopts them for his own. 
 A system of filosofy 
 Broad as the vast infinity 
 By Heibert Spencer was evolved — 
 The Universe complete it solved. 
 
 It was observed by Darwin, 
 
 That animals reproduce 
 In geometric raMo 
 
 With rapidness profuse. 
 
59 
 
 Unopposed each one would fill 
 The world with its own species, till 
 The stock of food by running- short 
 Would cut them off and cause abort. 
 
 Hence everywhere a strug-g-le 
 
 For room and food and life. 
 And, where one wins the battle, 
 
 Millions fall in strife. 
 The lion has soft padded feet 
 Inturning- claws and mouih replete 
 With murderus teeth to catch and hold 
 The poor g-iraffe upon the wold. 
 
 But brig-ht are the eyes of the latter 
 
 And set upon the side, 
 And sensitive projecshuns 
 
 Upon his head provide 
 A way to feel his food and look 
 For fos, that steal from hidden nook 
 To spring- upon him from the rear; 
 Then comes in play his running- g-ear. 
 
 Some would say, the Creator 
 
 Doth take supreme delight 
 In watching- helpless creatures 
 
 With one another fierht. 
 Each lives by killing- ofif his fo — 
 Both plants and animals are so — 
 A chang-e, that fits one to survive. 
 Will live, because it keeps alive. 
 
 And thus in constant prcg-ress 
 
 The better species vie 
 And rise by Evolushun, 
 
 While others sink and die. 
 The rocks reveal full many a trace 
 Of forms, that once did hold a place. 
 But now extinct have griven o'er 
 To fitter ones on Time's vast shore. 
 
6t THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 And crowning- this long- strug-g-le 
 Is that 'tween man and man. 
 
 He has conquord all below him 
 And put them 'neath his ban. 
 
 Fossil records tell the tale, 
 
 How brain tishue did prevail; 
 
 Now History beg-ins to write 
 
 Later chapters of the fight. 
 
 For space, for teritory 
 
 Expanding- nashuns crowd 
 
 Upon each other's borders 
 With defamashuns loud. 
 
 O'erpopulated Europe longs 
 
 For land to feed her hung-ry throng-^. 
 
 America with open arms 
 
 For many years has ufferd charms. 
 
 But all such valves of safety 
 
 Will finally be closed, 
 And then the awful death-g-ods. 
 
 Who thus far have but dozed. 
 Will waken to a carnag-e hot 
 And rush the fires beneath their pot. 
 War, Disease, and Famine frown 
 On men and keep their numbers down. 
 
 But nashuns to be fittest 
 
 Must everywhere improve; 
 Art, Literature, and Science 
 
 Must all be on the move. 
 So, as we g-o about Berlin 
 Some light perhaps may now flow in 
 Upon the marvelus advance, 
 That placed Germania over France. 
 
 Next we'll visit the Arsenal, 
 
 Or "Ruhmes Halle" 'tis calld. 
 
 Thru which a Frenchman hurrys 
 With spirit deeply g-alld. 
 
BERLIN 61 
 
 Under the bust of Frederick First, 
 Who love of fame had warmly nurst, 
 We enter, and see, how Art doth bear 
 Of a country's weal her worthy share. 
 
 A complete historic memorial 
 
 Of war in all its detail ; 
 Architect, painter, and sculptor 
 
 Have filld each one his g-rail 
 And drunk to the honor of all those, 
 Whov'e helpt to conquor the nashun's fos. 
 They've lavisht on this bilding- grand 
 The finest work of heart and hand. 
 
 Carefully arranged by centurys 
 
 Are th' evolving means of offence 
 
 From the spear of the old cave-dweller 
 To the rifled canon immense. 
 
 Once decorative art appeard, 
 
 But afterward away 'twas cleard; 
 
 On effectiveness the mind intent 
 
 Sought how to deal out death hell-bent. 
 
 When man took up projectiles. 
 
 The victory was won 
 O'er all the other creatures. 
 
 That flurisht 'neath the sun. 
 'Tis plain now, what that legend means, 
 Where smooth round pebbles David gleans 
 And great Goliath with a sling 
 Upon his drum-sticks down doth bring. 
 
 An exhibit of Engineering 
 
 Shows, how must keep apace 
 Prosaic Mathematics 
 
 In this tremendus race. 
 Models of French fortreses, 
 Frescos of great victorys, 
 Captured battle-flags and guns 
 By the hundreds and the tons ! 
 
THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Germania's sons and daughters 
 Stroll freely thru these halls 
 And catch the inspirashun, 
 That on the spirit falls. 
 The poets sing- of bravest deeds, 
 Relig-ion cloaks it with her creeds, 
 And hand in hand all things unite 
 To bolster Deiitschland' s power to fight. 
 
 Now behold Pedagogus 
 
 At a roller skating rink ! 
 Frau Hoyer sits by the railing 
 
 And Bavarian beer doth drink. 
 Marie has never been on skates, 
 Which lucky fact necessitates, 
 That Rusticus must hold her hands — 
 She objecteth not, in fact demands. 
 
 She clings to him like an ivy, 
 That twines around an oak, 
 
 And in her perambulashuns 
 Gives him many a poke, 
 
 Unintenshunal indeed. 
 
 But which naturally do lead 
 
 To thrills, which thru his system dart, 
 
 And palpitashuns of the heart. 
 
 Of course they must have a tumble; 
 
 Her feet fly in the air. 
 And down they go together, 
 
 He underneath as a chair. 
 She seems to rather like her seat, 
 And is quite loth to take her feet. 
 Of all conveniences for rest 
 The lap of a man suits a girl the best. 
 
 An Opera House and Theater 
 Compose the Royal Stage; 
 
 Quite modern is the latter 
 
 The former ripe with age. 
 
63 
 
 ^'Standin^ room only," you'll not see — 
 An American barbarism, we'll agree — 
 For fifteen cents the peeple all 
 May listen to "Faust" or "Parsifal," 
 
 Some take along- their lunchuns, 
 
 A sausage and a bun. 
 And between the acts they picnic 
 
 With many a jest and pun. 
 The Theater has on either hand 
 A church; the three do nicely stand 
 In symetry superbly mast — 
 On Sunday eve they're all in blast. 
 
 Marie's g-ood old Grandmother 
 
 Was reported very ill, 
 And the girl took Pedagog-us 
 
 To the chamber lone and still. 
 High in an attic close and dark 
 They found this lovd but shatterd bark 
 Just about to drift from shore 
 Without a compas or an oar. 
 
 Much pleased she seemd with her callers, 
 
 And Rusticus quietly said, 
 As he sat by the pashent old lady 
 
 In a chair drawn close to the bed: 
 "When you are well, perhaps you'll go 
 Back with me?" She answerd: "No; 
 I fear the great dark rolling- sea; 
 I think, you'd better take Marie!" 
 
 At the "Boerse" the speculators 
 
 Are calm and very polite ; 
 They move about with leshure 
 
 And talk in accents light. 
 But stocks are changing- hands the. same. 
 As when New Yorkers play the g-ame. 
 Like coachers on a base-ball g-round. 
 Yell, dance, and wildly antic 'round. 
 
64 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Near by upon the river 
 
 Are fishermen in their boats. 
 Eels they are skilfuly weighing-; 
 
 Each one carefuly notes, 
 That his balance is acurate — 
 No profit conies from over- weight — 
 An eel by the middle he will pick 
 And snap him out as 'twere a stick." 
 
 The tower of the Berlin "Rathhaus" 
 
 Gives a fine view of the town, 
 But there is no elevator 
 
 To take you up and down. 
 About half way a curteus man, 
 Will offer you a chair and fan. 
 An amber glass before the eyes 
 Will clear away the smoky skys. 
 
 You look along "Unter den Linden" 
 
 From the "Lust Platz" to the "Thor, 
 And on thru the great -'Thier Garten" 
 
 As level as a floor. 
 Charlottenburg lies just beyond. 
 And like a graceful water bond 
 The Spree winds thru the city dense 
 With palaces and monuments. 
 
 Baron vom Stein, the statesman, 
 
 Stands in "Doenhofs Platz." 
 On Great Market Day the wimen 
 
 Arrange in gordius mats 
 Their flowers about him, and behind 
 Are vegetables of every kind. 
 Beef and mutton, chickens, fruit, 
 The most eccentric taste to suit. 
 
 Like an aucshuneer the Baron 
 Offers his goods for sale — 
 
 Still it seems appropriate. 
 
 For his life did much avail 
 
65 
 
 To bring- prosperity and peace, 
 And, when each Fran counts her increase 
 Of wealth at nig-ht, she thanks her God^ 
 That old Vom Stein this earth has trod. 
 
 Preparing- to leave for Dresden, 
 
 Rusticus went to the bank, 
 Wherein was kept his money. 
 
 His buoyant spirit sank. 
 When he found the doors of iron lockt. 
 The road to his treshure firmly blockt; 
 In Europe without a blessed cent I 
 Think for a moment, what that meant ! 
 
 The hour was one of business ; 
 
 It was no holiday; 
 Scenes of g-reat bank failures 
 
 Thru his vishun courst their way. 
 He g-ave the handle one more twist; 
 It would not yield to mortal rist. 
 What could he do? The world lookt black. 
 In blank despair he settled back. 
 
 Then he saw a brazen bell-pull, 
 
 A lion ready to roar, 
 He seized it and, lo, the latch dropt, 
 
 And in swung- the ponderus door ! 
 He fattend his shrunken pocket book 
 And departed with a happy look 
 Of joy upon his radiant face— 
 The world was now a jolly place. 
 
 He was telling Marie that evening, 
 
 How the Baptists go down in the stream, 
 E'en thru the ice of winter. 
 With faces all a-beam. 
 "What for?" she askt; "to take a bath?" 
 "O, no; to escape from God's just rath." 
 "But they have on their clothes?" she said. 
 "Yes, yes; long robes from foot to head." 
 
 5 
 
66 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 But Marie had fallen to lafifing-; 
 
 She knew but a single form 
 Of baptism, that of babys 
 
 In water nice and warm, 
 And so could not appreciate, 
 How folks grow up degenerate, 
 And, if they would their sins expunge, 
 Must in the river take a plunge. 
 
 She seemd sad, when he talkt of going; 
 
 Into her nature had purld 
 A strange irrepressible feeling 
 
 For this maa from another world. 
 She gave him her little fotograf, 
 And said with a vain attempt to laff : 
 "Write me, when you sail for home, 
 And I'll go with you thru the foam!" 
 
 She took the book of folk-songs 
 
 And o'er the pages turnd. 
 As if for something searching. 
 
 They had together learnd. 
 Finally she found a piece, 
 And then, as if a vain caprice 
 Had seized upon her spirit free, 
 She cryd : "Sing this, sing this to me !" 
 
 PARTING. 
 From the German of Ottmau Schoeuhuth, 1827. 
 
 Maiden adieu ! I'm leaving you ! 
 Now ends our fleeting bliss — 
 Give me one parting kiss. 
 Maiden adieu ! 
 
 Maiden adieu ! I'm leaving you ! 
 True as that love of thine 
 Shall be forever mine. 
 Maiden adieu ! 
 
67 
 
 Maiden adieu ! I'm leaving- you ! 
 Weep not with eyelids red — 
 Love lives, when all is dead. 
 Maiden adieu ! 
 
 Rusticus is now at the stashun, 
 His head a trifle confused, 
 He asks for a "■drei'' class ticket. 
 
 And the agent is much amused. 
 In plainest Eng-lish he doth say: 
 "Just step around the other way 
 And take a glass of lager beer ; 
 We let no dry class travel here." 
 
 But he tosses out a ticket 
 
 And on it you can read: 
 "For Wittemberg one passage 
 
 In the dritte class." Indeed 
 We're going to study the story old 
 Of Luther's Reformashun told 
 To children in each pius home 
 Of Protestants, but not by Rome. 
 
 Anting from the "'Wagon'" — 
 
 For thus they call the car — 
 We saw no town or village 
 
 The verdant fields to mar. 
 This seemd like home and a joyus throb 
 Courst thru the breast of our dear hob. 
 He fell in line with his duble grips. 
 His opera glasses on his hips. 
 
 Along the bank of the rail-road, 
 Like a stray theatric troup. 
 We marcht with jokes sarcastic 
 A weary straggling group. 
 At last the path curvd 'neath the track, 
 And on a tree a few yards back 
 A notice read with meaning full j 
 "Here Luther burnd the Papal Bull.". 
 
68 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Rusticus gazed intentlv. 
 
 It was an oak well formd, 
 'Neath which the blaze was kindled, 
 
 That 'round the whole world stormd. 
 Its twigs and branches spreading now 
 In all direcshuns picture, how 
 The Church divided into sects 
 Thus multiplying her eifects. 
 
 That was a scene momentus. 
 
 The Doctor had been "fired" 
 By The Holy Pope Immortal 
 
 Of the Church of God Inspired. 
 And forth he came with college boys 
 Mid songs, and wild hilarius noise, 
 And up to Heaven in smoke it went. 
 An epoch-making document ! 
 
 In the town is an old Seminary, 
 The "Augusteum" 'tis calld, 
 
 And Doctor Martin Luther 
 The Vatican appalld 
 
 By teaching here new doctrines strange. 
 
 Which anshent dogmas did derange. 
 
 You see his stove of colored tiles, 
 
 Drinking goblet, table, files 
 
 Of grand old written sermons, 
 And paintings by Cranach. 
 
 On Market Place are standing 
 With loving arms a-lock 
 
 Luther and Melancthon, two 
 
 Co-workers, here united true. 
 
 As when in 1520 they 
 
 The call for acshun did obey. 
 
 Luther was the driver. 
 
 Strong, thickset, plain; 
 Philip more the scholar, 
 
 Slender, pale, the brain, 
 
WITTEVTBERG 69 
 
 From which issued thot acute 
 Adown the ages bearing- fruit. 
 Complemental were their parts, 
 As a unit throbd their hearts. 
 
 Far out is the old "Schloss Kirche" 
 On which the Theses were naild— 
 
 Ninety-five, you remember. 
 
 It's sanctity has not availd 
 
 To ward off French and Austrian shot 
 
 Pourd in from belching- canons hot. 
 
 The wooden doors are seen no more. 
 
 But writ in iron you read the lore. 
 
 More central is the "Stadt Kirche," 
 
 Where Luther often preacht, 
 And with unerring- logic 
 
 His heterodoxy reacht. 
 It has two towers and each a bell. 
 The hour of day they both do knell. 
 The gilded hand-tips seem to crawl 
 Around the gloomy clock-face pall. 
 
 Men first bowd down in worship 
 
 At their ancestor's grave. 
 The Spirit of the Father 
 
 Was called upon to save 
 From Famine, Hunger, Storm and Cold 
 And other demons dark and bold. 
 The Sun, Moon, Heavens, personifyd 
 Were also God's who livd and died. 
 
 Jehovah was a Sky-God, 
 
 Who dwelt at Sinai. 
 Upon the cloud-wrapt summit 
 
 Moses would apply 
 For laws or consultashun deep, 
 The Israelites in line to keep. 
 From that time on He came to be 
 The tribal God, who set them free. 
 
70 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 But the noshun broadend later, 
 And Gentiles with the Jew 
 Joind in to worship "Jahveh" 
 
 In adorashun true. 
 And wider still the thot expands 
 Until it covers unknown lands, 
 And o'er the Universe One God 
 Now rules supreme with loving- rod. 
 
 Religion like a river 
 
 Rolls down the course of time. 
 Gathering tributarys 
 
 Into its flood sublime, 
 Until the banks it overflows 
 And in a delta wandering goes 
 In countless irigating- rills 
 And every soul with hope instils. 
 
 'And at the points of parting 
 
 Are found historic men, 
 Moses, Isaiah, and Jesus, 
 
 And later even, when 
 Luther, Loyola, Calvin, yes 
 Wesley, Williams, Channing-, bless 
 The world with their great fecund lives ; 
 Each leaves a sect, which long- survives. 
 
 And let us not be heedless 
 
 Of other holy streams; 
 Buddha and Confucius — 
 
 Each disciple deems 
 His own beloved Master best. 
 And destind to o'ercome the rest — 
 Zoroaster, Laou-Tsze, 
 Mohammed, Krishna, all must be 
 
 Considerd in this movement 
 Of man from out the night 
 
 Of darkest superstishun 
 
 Toward intellectual lisfht. 
 
DRESDEN 71 
 
 Creeds will slowly be resolved 
 Into one great faith evolved 
 By casting- foolish things aside 
 And letting naut but truth abide. 
 
 "See the wine mountains yonder ! 
 
 Everybody look !" 
 Rusticus peerd thru the window 
 
 With eager neck acrook. 
 On to Dresden now by rail 
 Along the buteus Elben vale ! 
 In teraces the hillsides steep 
 With vines of Bacchus fairly weep. 
 
 Farther up the river 
 
 Beyond the city's towers 
 This range of hills is wooded 
 And in its shaded bowers 
 Hide pritty villas. You may stroll 
 Where'er your longing sets its goal, 
 For fences none your course impede, 
 And all from underbrush is freed. 
 
 Upon the river's bosom 
 
 Long boats sail smoothly by. 
 Swiftly with the current, 
 
 But when a tug doth try 
 To pull a number 'gainst the stream. 
 Then she has to put on steam — 
 O, how easy 'tis to glide, 
 When you're floating with the tide ! 
 
 Upon the well-kept highway 
 
 A woman often jogs 
 To and from the city 
 
 With her cart and dogs. 
 Strong and healthy are these wives 
 Working outdoor all their lives, 
 But bent over, shoulders round, 
 As if reaching for the ground. 
 
THE RUSTIC KAMBLF:K 
 
 Hark, the sound of a trumpet 
 
 Breaks on the evening- air ! 
 The soldier and his barracks 
 
 Confront you everywhere. 
 With Herr Blou^itz and his wife 
 Rusticus enjoyd his life. 
 His room was neat but very small — 
 To turn around he used the hall ! 
 
 There had arrived quite lately 
 
 A young- Blowitz on the scene, 
 Who announced himself continually 
 
 With short intervals between. 
 But Rusticus cared not for this, 
 His heart was full of thankful bliss. 
 That in his couch naut else abode 
 Than he, and hence this feeling- Ode, 
 
 TO brown's ointment. 
 
 When bed-bug-s o'er my breast 
 
 Their midnig-ht gambols make. 
 And "skeeters" in the air 
 Their classic rondos sing-, 
 Thou, Herbal, g-iveth rest. 
 ^ My little pot I take 
 
 And rub you here and there — 
 O, Thou dost comfort bring! 
 Sweet peace from thee doth spring! 
 
 What was the cry of an infant 
 
 To his resounding snore, 
 Or the banging of the church-bells, 
 
 Which all night o'er and o'er 
 Tolld out the hours, and quarters too ! 
 One performance scarce was thru 
 When 'round again they would proceed, 
 While sleep on fluttering wings did speed. 
 
DRESDEN 
 
 Rusticus dreaded the Sabbath ; 
 
 "The devil will be to pay. 
 When they all g-o off together !" 
 
 Profanely he did say. 
 But it was not very bad; 
 Groupt in chords a trifle sad, 
 The pealers with a taste refined 
 In harmony the tones combined. 
 
 Among- the varius churches, 
 
 Whose sacred towers seek 
 The heavens, you will notice 
 
 That of the Russian Cireek. 
 Its rounded spires with nobs well tipt 
 And draping chains so gently dipt 
 Would make an urchin fondly stop 
 And wish one for a monster top. 
 
 The "Zwing-er" is the boast of Dresden, 
 
 A quadrilateral court 
 Enclosed by six pavilions 
 
 And enterd thru a port. 
 Richest treshures here you'll find 
 To warm the soul and feed the mind, 
 Life in nature and in art. 
 Of mankind a monster chart. 
 
 "Go at once," says Baediker, 
 
 "With energ-y unimpaird 
 To see The Sistine Madonna." 
 
 Pedagog^us hardly dared 
 To step inside and take a seat 
 Upon the sofa at the feet 
 Of Raphael's Virgin with The Child 
 And wondrus cherubs there beguiled. 
 
 Hoffman's "Christ in the Temple" 
 
 Your eye intent will hold. 
 You see the Boy Celestial 
 
 Puzzling the wise-men old. 
 
74 THE RUSTIC kamblp:r 
 
 Here is Youth displacing- Ag-e, 
 Time is turning- o'er a page, 
 Future thot to light just born 
 Pushes back the past forlorn. 
 
 The Zoologic Museum 
 
 Has an ape from Borneo. 
 
 With other monkys' business 
 He has been monkying so, 
 
 That his nose has g-rown far out 
 
 And he now has quite a snout. 
 
 He's approaching toward man 
 
 Just as rapidly as he can. 
 
 In the Japanese Palace 
 
 Rusticus found his ideal, 
 A marble Boy of Bacchus, 
 Who certainly did feel 
 Happy standing in a tub of grapes, 
 For not a thing- his body drapes 
 Except the fruit, which doth embrace 
 His darling chubby legs and waist. 
 
 Come, let's g-o to the theater ! 
 
 A finer can not be found 
 Thruout the German nashun, 
 
 Or all the world around ! 
 A line of statues on the roof 
 Of noble tone g-ives ample proof; 
 Shakespeare, Goethe, Schiller, stand 
 Prominent among- this band. 
 
 The play will be "Undine;" 
 
 For the music sweetly set 
 To the clever Albert Lortzing- 
 
 We find ourselves in det. 
 Kuekleborn and Lorelei 
 Are water-spirits. Dwelling nigh 
 A fisherman and his old wife 
 Pass on the shore their simple life 
 
DKKSDEN 
 
 The Spirits leave Undine 
 
 At the fisher-peeple's cot 
 And steal away a dauter 
 
 The same ag-e to a dot. 
 Prince Henry finds the Fisher-g-irl 
 And takes her to his courtly whirl, 
 Where Hug-o meets and loves her true, 
 As boys and girls are wont to do. 
 
 To test his love she sends him 
 
 To the charm-world by the sea, 
 Where he finds the fair Undine 
 
 So butiful and free. 
 He makes this water-sprite his wife, 
 Who thus doth win eternal life; 
 Back they go to court, and then 
 His first love seizes him again. 
 
 So he casts away Undine, 
 
 But the wondrus Kuehleborn 
 Appears and takes the couple 
 
 His king-dom to adorn 
 As prince and princess 'neath the wavi 
 And Hug-o now must ever lave 
 Amid the sea-weed, fatal dole, 
 A water-sprite without a soul ! 
 
 Once all the earth was peepled 
 
 With curius dwarfs and nomes, 
 And midst the snapping- fire-brands 
 
 Red demons had their homes; 
 The air with elves and ang-els swarmd. 
 Graceful nymphs the fountains warttid. 
 Maids and Undines 'neath the spray 
 Courst their dark mysterius way. 
 
 Then cold and cruel Science 
 
 Expelld sweet Poetry. 
 And left but Force and Matter 
 
 All thru infinity. 
 
76 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Some do long- for olden times 
 With simple life and childish rimes; 
 They say, that moderns live so fast, 
 That Happiness they f!y right past. 
 
 Leipsic is not burdend with buty. 
 
 The old historic town s 
 Has a boulevard around it, 
 
 Forts now tumbled down 
 And built into a promenade, 
 Where citizens of every grade 
 Air themselves, and student chaps 
 Display their scars and colord caps. 
 
 Napoleon and the allys 
 
 Fought a battle here. 
 And in the walls of churches 
 
 Canon balls appear. 
 His Majesty was on the run. 
 And, ere the fatal day was done. 
 The v^^estern bridge blew up too soon 
 And left some Frenchmen as a boon. 
 
 Rusticus attended a lecture 
 
 In German Theology. 
 While the s'udents were waiting, 
 
 Several he could see 
 Eating sausages and buns. 
 Lunch consistent with their funds. 
 Then the old "prof" hustled in 
 And spoke upon original sin. 
 
 He also went to a wedding 
 
 In the ancient Nicolai Church, 
 The pair had come to the altar 
 
 For happiness in search. 
 The priest was drest in a long- black g-own 
 With a ruff so stiff, that he couldn't look down, 
 But he gave the youngsters good advice 
 And plenty of it for the price. 
 
Then in came a crowd of Blue-caps 
 And raised a g-rand old song. 
 
 The harmony was perfect, 
 
 Tho fifty were in the throng. 
 
 O, that Americans could sing ! 
 
 Music from us hath taken wing. 
 
 We lack the voice, the lungs, the art, 
 
 But most of all we lack the heart. 
 
 Leipsic is strictly Lutheran — 
 
 No other sect allowd. 
 A Baptist told Pedag-ogus, 
 
 How he to force had bowd, 
 And out beyond the city's bound 
 A little chapel had been found, 
 Where they a Sunday-school could hold 
 And g-lean a few lambs for the fold. 
 
 The Theater is handsome 
 
 And fronts on Augustus Platz. 
 Behind is a lake and fountain 
 
 With shrubs and flowers in nols. 
 The actors fondly love to go 
 Upon the roomy portico. 
 Which overlooks this pritty park 
 And to the dripping- waters hark. 
 
 "Lohengrin" by Wagner! 
 
 Aha, that will be fine ! 
 When Rusticus saw the bill-board. 
 
 He straitway fell in line. 
 And bot a ticket and the text, 
 Over which with pashence vext 
 He strug-gled all the afternoon, 
 Until he seemd about to swoon. 
 
 The violins are sounding 
 
 A sweet chord soft and high, 
 
 Which gradually grows deeper, 
 Swelling by and by 
 
73 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Into a grand and marshal strain. 
 You see King- Henry, who would fain 
 Decide a quarrel o'er the crown 
 Of Brabant. Friedrich with a frown 
 
 Tells how Princess Elsie 
 
 Wanderd into the wood 
 With her little brother Gottfried, 
 
 Dost him, and she could 
 Have killd the lad — but 'tis not known — 
 So he and Ortrud claim the throne. 
 Henry orders Elsie brot. 
 Lovely, timid, mistrusting- naut. 
 
 Her presence dispels suspishun. 
 
 She beg-s for a champion knight. 
 The call sounds on the trumpet. 
 
 No warior takes the plig-ht. 
 Again 'tis blown, and see ! A boat 
 Down the winding stream doth float. 
 And in it rides a hero bright 
 Drawn by a Swan of purest white ! 
 
 Soon he fights with Friedrich, 
 
 Who falls, by a mystic charm 
 Struck down, and the wondrus stranger 
 
 Experiences no harm. 
 Now he's the Prince of Brabant new. 
 And marrys lovely Elsie, who 
 Doth swear beneath high Heaven's dome 
 She will not ask his name or home. 
 
 But the dark and wicked Ortrud 
 Knows well the female heart; 
 
 She tempts sweet gentle Elsie 
 With every hellish art 
 
 To ask the fatal question. Ha! 
 
 She wins, and with a wild huzza 
 
 Her husband rushes in to kill 
 
 The Knight, but falls in death's cold chill. 
 
LEIPSIC 79 
 
 *'The Land of Gral is my country, 
 
 My name is Lohengrin, 
 And now away I hasten 
 
 No longer to be seen 
 By Elsie — O, sweet bliss, how brief ! 
 Good by ! I leave you all in grief I 
 Come hither, Gottfried, lovely boy !" 
 The lad emerges full of joy, 
 
 And runs down to his sister. 
 
 Lohengrin then sails away 
 As sinks the sun in the mountains 
 
 At the close of a summer's day. 
 Such in short is the story old 
 In northern sagas often told. 
 That night at Leipsic it did seem 
 A wierd, entrancing, mythic dream. 
 
 In the morning came a letter 
 
 From the heart of sweet Marie. 
 She wrote: "I am so lonely 
 
 Since you are gone from me I 
 I think of how we used to sing. 
 And memory doth ever bring 
 The hope to meet you once again. 
 Be sure and write exactly, when 
 
 You expect to take the steamer. 
 
 How lovely it would be 
 To sail with you for Boston ! 
 
 O, I do long to see 
 New York, Chicago, splendid towns. 
 Where all the girls wear silken gowns ! 
 It is so hard to struggle here ! 
 Take me along, now won't you, Dear ?" 
 
 The German people are happy. 
 
 While they're waiting for a train; 
 
 Every one will lunch then 
 
 And a glass of lager drain. 
 
80 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 They care not, when the cars may come, 
 They do not sit morose and g-rum, 
 But 'round the board with harty laff 
 They eat and joke and gesimdheit quaff. 
 
 We'll stop off a day at Weimar 
 
 Of Goethe and Schiller the home, 
 Wieland, Litz, and Herder — 
 
 Many a noble tome 
 Has grown to ripest fruitag-e here. 
 In statue, dwelling- house, and bier, 
 Everywhere these names appear 
 Beloved in life, to memory dear. 
 
 The summit is held by Goethe, 
 
 But Schiller's youthful face 
 Shines always very near him 
 
 In purity and g-race. 
 Tog-ether on the Monument 
 They stand in union sweetly blent. 
 And in the Ducal Vault they rest 
 With laurel leaves above each breast. 
 
 How humble the homes of authors ! 
 
 Great thots are wont to flow 
 From plain and simple chambers 
 
 With ding-y ceilings low. 
 Many a reader of "Wallenstein," 
 Who could not pen a sing-le line. 
 Would curl his lip in proud disdain 
 To sleep, where Schiller's head has lain. 
 
 In the rustic Cemetery, 
 
 Where lies the sacred dust 
 Of these g-reat German poets. 
 The common mortal must 
 With his kindred take a place 
 And- be content with narrow space. 
 The names upon the wall are writ, 
 When g-raves lie very close to it. 
 
81 
 
 Luther was born at Eisleben. 
 
 At the ag-e of twenty-two 
 He was an Augustinian, 
 
 But later chang-ed his view. 
 At Wittemberg he lived three years, 
 Then by chance at Rome appears 
 And finds th' Ecclesiastic Seat 
 With vain Medician waste replete. 
 
 To meet the enormus outlay 
 
 Indulg-ences were sold, 
 Which drew upon the merit 
 
 Of holy fathers old 
 To balance 'g-ainst the load of det, 
 Which shades of sinners always met, 
 When they in Purgatory squared 
 The soul-account for them prepared. 
 
 And selling- these came Tetsel 
 
 North into Germany, 
 And found this Doctor Luther, 
 
 Who braved the mighty See, 
 And naild his Theses on the door. 
 Which raised at once so great uproar, 
 That Leo X pronounced his fate 
 As mortal excommunicate. 
 
 But Martin made a bonfire 
 
 Of this great Papal Bull, 
 And then forthwith was summond 
 
 To argue it in full 
 Before the grand King Charles of Spain 
 At Worms near Frankfort on the Main. 
 And here he pleaded for free thot, 
 A course with fearful danger fraut. 
 
 Saxony's Elector 
 
 Luther's firmest friend. 
 Went as his protector 
 
 And staid until the end. 
 
82 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Declared an outlaw, it seemd best 
 That friends should capture Luther, lest 
 Something- worse might him befall; 
 And so he disappeard to all. 
 
 But in the Wartburg- Castle 
 
 Disguised as Junker Georg-e 
 The Bible he translated, 
 
 And thus a work did forg-e. 
 The basis of the German tung-, 
 And also spread the gospel 'mong 
 The peeple, so that each could read 
 And for himself bild up a creed. 
 
 Quite late on a stormy evening 
 
 Rusticus arrived 
 At Eisenach, and, hustling 
 , Across the platform, dived 
 
 Into a cab, the first in sight. 
 Which rolld away into the night. 
 Next morn the clerk said: "Never mind, 
 Altho it's raining-, we will find 
 
 A way to see the Castle ; 
 
 A carriag-e" — "Ah, just so. 
 But I will wait for sunshine," 
 
 Said Rusticus, and, lo. 
 Hardly spoken were the words. 
 When on the air came songs of birds. 
 And 'midst the nimbus peeking thru 
 Appeard a tiny speck of blue. 
 
 In the fair Thuringian forest 
 
 Far above the quiet town 
 The Castle of the Wartburg 
 
 From its pinnacle looks down. 
 Rusticus followd the donkey-path 
 Instinctively, tho the aftermath 
 Of mud caused now and then a slip. 
 Which set him once upon his hip. 
 
EISENACH 83 
 
 On guard was the usual soldier, 
 
 Who said: "In America 
 I suppose you have no castles?" 
 
 "O, yes indeed! Ha, ha 1 
 The Onondag-a Castle near 
 The town of Syracuse, I fear, 
 You have forgotten. 'Tis our pride. 
 Near by the Cardiff Giant died." 
 
 Then down was dropt the port-cuUis, 
 
 And Rusticus went in 
 This Schlossot the Reformashun, 
 
 Where Luther once had been, 
 The table saw, on which he wrote, 
 His chair and peg to hang his coat. 
 The fire-place, bed, and big ink-spot — 
 He slung'at the devil, but mist his shot. 
 
 Once it was the custom 
 
 For Tradesmen Guilds to send 
 Their singers to the Wartburg 
 
 In friendly trial to blend 
 Their voices, and the "Saengersaal" 
 Is well preserved; so is the hall 
 Where lords and ladys, knight, and priest. 
 In feudal days were wont to feast. 
 
 Reader, do you remember 
 
 The map of Germany, 
 How it used to be so motled 
 
 With states and duchys free? 
 The war with France has changed all this. 
 But as you pass you can not miss 
 The residences of the dukes, 
 Tho now these titles are but flukes. 
 
 We must take a stroll around Marburg 
 
 And visit its Castle fine, 
 For here bold Martin Luther 
 
 Said of the Bread and Wine : 
 
84 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 "They are the Body and the Blood; 
 
 No matter where the onward flood 
 
 Of thot shall take me, thus 'tis writ, 
 
 And the Devil can't make me budgie from it !' 
 
 A-down the Lahn to Coblentz, 
 
 A butiful valley ride 
 With sudden curves and tunnels 
 
 And mountains on each side ! 
 At Ems you see ag-ainst the sky 
 Hotels with prices fully as hig-h, 
 And soon along- a slow incline 
 The train rolls out on the German Rhine. 
 
 Coblentz is a Catholic city, 
 
 And Sunday was All Souls Da^-. 
 The pius wimen went plashing 
 
 Along the muddy way 
 To the cemetery 'neath the bill; 
 With loving hands and voices still 
 Upon each grave ten candles bright 
 They place to cheer the soul's dark night. 
 
 Rusticus met Mr. Thiele, 
 
 An American German-born, 
 At Coblentz on a visit. 
 
 And he took our pilgrim lorn 
 To Mother Baumblum's hillside place. 
 Who smiled on them with genial grace. 
 And 'neath the guns of Asterstein 
 They drank her health in home-made wine.. 
 
 Mr. Thiele waa a sing^er, 
 
 And Rusticus indeed, 
 Could join, when such a vintage 
 
 His throat from flem had freed. 
 And Mother Baumblum in her youth, 
 Like every German girl forsooth, 
 Had filld with music her big heart. 
 They sang in trio, each a part. 
 
COBLB.NTZ 85 
 
 THE RHINE-WINE SONG. 
 From the German of Matthias Claudius, 1775. 
 
 The Rhine, the Rhine I Behold our vinyards growing"! 
 
 O, blessed be the Rhine ! 
 Upc»n her shores the ripening- g-rapes, bestowing- 
 
 On us their mag-ic wine I 
 
 Now crown with leaves the brimming g-oblet, crown it! 
 
 There is no other wine ! 
 And drown dull pain with Bacchus' nectar, drown it! 
 
 O, quaff the drink divine! 
 
 Yes, drain the cup and let Care be forsaken! 
 
 Laff out and naut repine! 
 And if a soul with blues be ever taken, 
 Give him this Godly Wine ! 
 
 On the w^est bank up the river, 
 
 Three hundred feet in air, 
 Proud Stolzenfels is outlined 
 
 Ag-ainst the heavens fair. 
 And from its dizzy parapet 
 In panoramic buty set 
 The view doth every soul incline 
 To sing- the praises of the Rhine. 
 
 To the eastward o'er the city 
 
 Looking- g-rimly down 
 Ehrenbreitstein sits threatening 
 
 With dark determined frown. 
 Within its massive rock-built walls 
 The trumpet sounds its daily calls, 
 And from below the listening- ear 
 This patriotic song- may hear : 
 
 THE GERMAN RHINE, 
 
 From the German of Niklas Becker, 1840. 
 
 They never shall posess it, our own free German Rhine! 
 Altho the greedy robbers shall rush in line by line; 
 
86 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 So long as gently ripling it wears its dress of green. 
 So long as padles diping disturb its glistening sheen ! 
 
 They never shall posess it, our own free German Rhine! 
 So long as hearts are kindled with the fire of its wine. 
 So long as in its current the hardy boulders rest, 
 So long as Heaven's picture is mirored on its breast! 
 
 They never shall posessit, our own free German Rhine! 
 So long assturdyfellows 'round bashfulmaidens shine. 
 So long as fish within it their fins of silver raise, 
 So long as German singers sound forth its hyms of 
 praise I 
 
 They never shall posess it, our own free German Rhine, 
 Until upon its bottom doth every head recline ! 
 
 Pedagogus had been tramping 
 
 Over bridges forts and hills; 
 The mud and rainy weather 
 
 Had brot on varius ills; 
 Not the least of which to meet 
 Were the blisters on his feet; 
 Court-plaster and good Doctor Brown's 
 Herbal Ointment heald the wounds. 
 
 He boarded the steamer Goethe 
 
 With a ticket for Cologne 
 On a cold November morning 
 
 Dejected and alone. 
 The sun shone forth, and with buttond coat 
 He stood on the deck of the trim little boat 
 With mittend hands and purple cheeks 
 Watching the castellated peaks. 
 
 "Wilder is the Hudson, 
 
 Vineyards grace the Rhine; 
 Your river boasts her castles, 
 
 Ice-houses garnish mine. 
 
THE RHINE 87 
 
 Legends, poetrj% and lore 
 Flourish on the fertile shore 
 Of either stream, and up and down 
 Liners steam from town to town." 
 
 Thus remarkt Pedag-og-us 
 
 To a buxom German youth 
 Fleeing from army service. 
 
 Who wisht to know the truth 
 About America, the place, 
 Toward which he now had set his face: 
 "You have Indianer ovqy there?" 
 "O, yes; a level state and fair," 
 
 Said Rusticus in German. 
 
 "No, I refer to men. 
 Red devils, who chase you on horses 
 
 And take j^our scalps oif then !" 
 "Don't be alarmd, my darling boy. 
 No longer Indians do annoy; 
 You'll see them not, unless you go 
 To William Cody's Wild West Show." 
 
 This seemd to calm his feelings, 
 
 And a look of hope came o'er 
 His rosy face, as the steamer 
 
 Ran in toward the western shore. 
 It was ten o'clock, when they reacht Cologne, 
 A town to our pilgrim all unnown. 
 He bolted across to the street near by. 
 And "Gasthaus zur Rhein Platz" met his eye. 
 
 Emigrants for America 
 
 Coming down the Rhine 
 On their way to Antwerp 
 
 Stop here to sup and dine. 
 For thirty years the /mil had kept 
 Her house and quite a fortune reapt. 
 "Barrels of soup I've sent to New York!" 
 She said, as she brot a nife and fork. 
 
THE RUSTIC KAMBLER 
 
 "In human casks you ship it," 
 
 Said Rusticus jocose; 
 "And of your exportashun 
 
 But little ever g-oes 
 More than a furlong- out to sea." 
 She laft and said : "That all may be." 
 Her guests bound for those western skys 
 Gazed on our friend with curius eyes. 
 
 An old man from Poughkeepsie 
 Had been to his German home, 
 
 Whence as a boy he wanderd 
 To brave Atlantic's foam. 
 
 "O, friend," he said, "it's all changed now! 
 
 I did not know my brother's brow ! 
 
 We gazed into each other's eyes 
 
 As strangers with a cold surprise ! 
 
 I'm going back to my Hudson 
 
 Never to leave it more ! 
 I shall live and die on its dear old 
 
 Rock-emboldend shore ! 
 I'm taking- this niece of mine along-; 
 She's a worthy maiden brown and strong- ; 
 She can carry a hundred pounds on her head, 
 Swing- a sithe or make a g-ood loaf of bread." 
 
 From Coblentz Rusticus had ritten 
 
 His banker at Berlin 
 To send his money post-lagernd 
 
 To Cologne, and he stept in 
 The Office on the very next day. 
 The Assistant Master portly and grej' 
 Remarkt: "Your registerd letter is here, 
 But I cannot g-ive it to you, I fear, 
 
 "Without the stamp of your Consul.'" 
 
 Then Pedag-ogus went 
 In search of this official. 
 
 By a policeman sent 
 
COLOGNE 89 
 
 Far out in the suburbs, where 
 
 He saw Old Glory fan the air. 
 
 But the Consul said: "I must refuse 
 
 The stamp of the United States to use. 
 
 I will g"0 myself to the Office 
 
 And see what we can do." 
 But the stuborn g-rizzly German 
 
 Held to his dictum true. 
 The Consul askt : "Have you naut to show, 
 That you're the man?" "I should say so!" 
 Quoth Pedag^og-us, and in sight 
 Came forth the name of Andrew White. 
 
 Red-tape disappeard like magic. 
 
 The Postmaster changed the address. 
 And made it in care of the Consul. 
 
 And Rusticus doth bless 
 The wonderful power in peace or war 
 Of the United States Ambassador. 
 His face assumed a brighter cast 
 As his finanshal panic past. 
 
 Cologne is a city of churches; 
 
 Its Cathedral is world-famed, 
 There are thirty four old bildings 
 
 After saints and ^mgels named. 
 Pedagogus went at once 
 To see the Dont, and like a dunce 
 Fell into the clutches of a guide, 
 Who from a distance him espyd. 
 
 "We must not disturb the service," 
 
 The miserable liar said; 
 "But we'll take a look at the Model 
 
 For a little while instead." 
 They walkt into a naboring store, 
 Where Eaii-de-cologne the trade-mark bore 
 Of Maria Farina, and here you could 
 See an excellent mineature in wood. 
 
90 THE KUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 "My Sir, it is not permitted, 
 
 To pay for vewing- this work. 
 
 But you may purchase a bottle 
 
 Of colone, " he said with a smirk. 
 
 "O, thanks, how easy are the terms; 
 
 They say colone, is good for g-erms ! 
 
 But come, I have a longing- deep. 
 
 Inside the Dorn to take a peep !" 
 
 The guide ran thru his lingo 
 
 In a desultory tone. 
 And soon skipt round the corner 
 
 And left our friend alone. 
 Then 'tween the colums he would stand 
 With opera-glasses in his hand, 
 And let the butiful windows ope 
 To him a grand kaleidoscope. 
 
 Lost was he in enjoyment. 
 
 When suddenly a gasp 
 Near by from a pi us old woman, 
 
 Who was breathing like a rasp. 
 Awoke him from his reverie. 
 She was crossing herself, and he could see. 
 That she meant him to doff his German cap 
 So down it went with a noisy rap. 
 
 Then he thot of the time, when cathedrals 
 Were bilt from the ernings small 
 
 Of poverty stricken peeple. 
 
 Who gave their little and all 
 
 To please, as they supposed, a God, 
 
 Who like weak kings ruled o'er this sod, 
 
 Deliting in such grand display. 
 
 They never dreamd, that in this way 
 
 They simply cringed to masters. 
 
 Who had discoverd how 
 Thru foolish superstishuns 
 
 To make their spirits bow. 
 
COLOGNE 91 
 
 And g-et posession of their gold, 
 A method shrewd and old, so old ! 
 But one thot doth assuag-e in part, 
 Some of the money went for art. 
 
 And now g-ood-by to Germany ! 
 
 We've made a hasty tour. 
 And therefore our conclushuns 
 
 Must not be drawn too shure. 
 But we have met sincerity, 
 Politeness, culture, verity. 
 Good natured peeple and g-ood beer — 
 Still drunkenness did not appear. 
 
 Into the old Gasthaeuser, 
 
 Where we have often stopt. 
 The boys and g-irls have enterd 
 
 And by a table dropt 
 With a Giiten Abend, Zwei Glass, please. 
 Have laft and chatted at their ease ; 
 By nine o'clock they homeward stroll. 
 And none on stormy billows roll. 
 
 Severe are the laws of the nashun 
 
 And rig-idly enforced; 
 From the g-overnment and army 
 
 You can never be divorced. 
 "Beware of Pickpockets!" is not read ; 
 The warning- is to them instead ; 
 "They will be punisht," say the signs. 
 And finger business fast declines. 
 
 Two or three hours at Aachen — 
 
 The French say Aix la Chapelle— 
 
 A city famed for its treatys, 
 And Pedagogus fell 
 
 In with a cuple of young school-mams. 
 
 Touring alone without any quams 
 
 Of super-modesty of mind 
 
 To keep them in their homes confined. 
 
92 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Rusticus longd to go with them 
 
 In their jolly rambling-s round, 
 But they were moving Swiss- w^ard 
 And he for France was bound. 
 So bidding them a sad adieu 
 He went his way with spirits blue, 
 And o'er his lonely bachelor soul 
 A wave of discontent did roll. 
 
 Belgium is a happy country, 
 
 P^rom war she's always free; 
 Others fight her battles, 
 
 And her army seems to be 
 Merely for parade. Flemish and French 
 Upon each other here intrench. 
 '■Entree''' and ^^Ingang'''' will be seen, 
 Which the same in Yankee mean. 
 
 The ancient Aryan peeple 
 
 Migrating toward the west 
 Divided into branches, 
 
 And now by strange behest 
 Of Fate they flow together here, 
 A tung and nashun new to rear, 
 As Norman PVench did once sail o'er 
 Where Anglo-Saxons held the shore. 
 
 Rusticus knew French a little, 
 
 He could read it fairly well. 
 But words, which were glibly spoken 
 
 On a pals3^d ear-drum fell. 
 Two sentences he learnd to use, 
 "■Je suis un Americain,'' and choose 
 To travel in my own sweet way. 
 But, alas ! ' ''Je ne comprends pas francais ! ' ' 
 
 Another, ''Faut il a changer,'' 
 
 He added very soon, 
 Yov at the rail-road crossings 
 
 It proved a blessed boon. 
 
BELGIUM 93 
 
 The German g-ard looks after you, 
 
 But Frenchmen let you go right thru; 
 
 Whenever Rusticus saw a train, 
 
 He shouted his sentence with might and main. 
 
 Before he arrived at Brussels, 
 
 A fourth was on his list, 
 For a bargain in board and lodg-ing 
 
 He sorely would have mist. 
 ^^Conibien demandez voiis pour cette f 
 Saved a deal of sad regret. 
 Preventing- bills from trundling in 
 Fattgr than they should have been. 
 
 Brussels is calld "Little Paris;" 
 
 Its fine "Hotel de Ville," 
 Parks, and Palace of Justice, 
 
 To every eye appeal. 
 On Sunday along- the boulevards 
 Came marching- in review the Cards, 
 With billowing- flags and trumpet blast 
 The handsome lines went sweeping past. 
 
 How butiful the army. 
 
 When it is on parade ! 
 How terible, when in battle 
 
 The thundering canonade. 
 The rattling- fire of infantry. 
 The furius dash of cavalry, 
 The g-roan, the oath, the g-asping broth, 
 All say : Here rules the hand of Death I 
 
 Belgium is the fighting-ground of Europe. 
 
 The Field of Waterloo 
 Is ten miles south of Brussels, 
 
 Which Rusticus did vew 
 Upon a dark November day. 
 A crowd of men and maidens gay 
 Surrounded him, wlien off he stept 
 And on the stashun platform leapt. 
 
94 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Maps they unrolld before him. 
 
 Behind, and about his neck. 
 He lookt like a rustic maypole, 
 
 Which the children do bedeck 
 And dance around at Easter Tide. 
 Then down the road with ample stride 
 He raced, but one persistent g-uide 
 Chased on and to outwind him tried. 
 
 '•'Sprechen Sie DeuUh ^'^ he shouted. 
 
 "■Nein Ich verstehe's nicht.'" 
 "Perhaps then you are Eng-lish?" 
 
 "No; our peeple lickt 
 Them once. I am a Lenape brave; 
 Tioughniog-a's g-listening- wave 
 Kisses the soil, where I was born 
 On a laffing- sunny April morn ! 
 
 Hoop la! Good by !" And skipping- 
 
 Rusticus ran ag-ain, 
 This time completely escaping-; 
 
 Later, however, when 
 He had climbed The Lion Mound, 
 His old tormentor there he found. 
 To Pedagog-us he appealed : 
 "I've shown Jay Gould around the Field !' 
 
 "Jay Gould could well afford it, 
 
 An interloping- scribe 
 Who sined his name to papers. 
 
 Which ruind our whole tribe I" 
 Then taking- out his guide-book he 
 Lookt o'er this place of destiny ; 
 La Haie Sainte, and Hugomont, 
 Where specters still the gardens haunt; 
 
 La Belle Alliance, where Welling-ton 
 And hammering Blucher met ; 
 
 The Monuments to Gordon 
 And Hanoverians set, 
 
SAINT OUENTAIN 95 
 
 Posterity for aye to tell, 
 Where they in conflict nobly fell; 
 The height, on which Napoleon stood 
 And calmly watcht the sanguin flood. 
 
 He tryd to picture that onrush 
 
 Of the fated cuirassiers 
 Into the sunken road- way — 
 
 A little girl appears 
 And says : "Please bu}' a bullet. Sir?" 
 His tender heart could not demur, 
 But into a hedge the ball he threw. 
 Its old-time feelings to renew. 
 
 Rusticus was very timid. 
 
 He feard to arrive at night 
 In gay and festive Paris; 
 
 A little clear day light 
 Would be well at first he thot; 
 Hence Saint Quentin our hero caut. 
 Here Coligny met defeat, 
 And later Frenchmen must retreat 
 
 Before resistless Germans 
 
 Back on Belgian I^ille. 
 In the hotel two peasants 
 
 After their evening meal 
 Tried to play at billiards, and 
 Rusticus also took a hand. 
 Whene'er the cue-ball ran amuck — 
 Ahvays due to "bull-head" luck — 
 
 With most intense excitement 
 
 A button was moved on the score. 
 
 And, lo, the godess Fortuna 
 Seemed to favor more 
 
 Her faithful western devotee I 
 
 He won, and shouted : "Three times three 
 
 For Uncle Sam 1 He has no match I 
 
 He beats the world upon a scratch!'' 
 
96 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Next morning- we g-o on to Paris. 
 
 At the crossings lone and mute 
 Stand wimen, who carefully gard them, 
 
 And give a pritty salute, 
 As the train sweeps smoothly by. 
 On board an aucshaneer did try 
 To sell some trinkets. Then a lad 
 In briliant coat and trousers clad 
 
 Playd calls upon a trumpet. 
 
 And past around his cap. 
 Soldiers drinking- from bottles. 
 
 Others taking- a nap, 
 Two wimen quareling over a seat, 
 Black eyes, sharp features, dainty feet. 
 Show a chang-e is taking place 
 In the caracter of the race. 
 
 Rusticus arrived by evening- 
 
 At the "Depot of the North," 
 And hurrying past the inspectors 
 
 Immediately sallyd forth 
 To seek a room. It was not long 
 Before ' ' Une chambre pour un garcon'' 
 Appeared upon a door. He rang. 
 A woman emerged. With nasal twang 
 
 She snarld impatiently: ''Qu'y a-t-ilf' 
 
 He tryd to answer in French. 
 "Say, don't you understand English?" 
 
 • Said the disagreable wench. 
 "Oui — yah — yes !" he blurted out; 
 I have just come, and am looking about 
 For a bed?" "Well, mine's too small ; 
 It's for a little boy, that's all !" 
 
 He concluded to wait till the morrow. 
 And went to a small hotel. 
 
 The clerk said : "I've an acquaintance. 
 Who knows English very well." 
 
97 
 
 He brot around a waiter smart. 
 
 Who had acquired the useful art 
 
 Of many tung-s. He said : "Come 'round 
 
 To our restaurant ; 'tis easily found." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Pedag-ogus, 
 
 "I'll let you take me in !" 
 And the angel of the apron 
 
 With a self-suffishent grin 
 Went his way. But Rusticus at 55 
 Rue de Dunkirque then did drive 
 A bargain satisfactory. 
 W^ith Mother Francois he will be. 
 
 They had to use pencil and paper. 
 
 His noledge of French to brace, 
 And once the pashent old lady 
 
 Rote : "You're a very hard case I" 
 His room had a floor of hexagonal bricks, 
 And Rusticus made some fantastic kicks. 
 When he jumpt out of bed in the morning, for 
 They were col^ as the ice-flos of Labrador. 
 
 The two would sit in silence 
 
 Sipping their cafe au lait ; 
 She would heat both milk and Java 
 
 And serve in a primitive way. 
 Table-spoon, bowl, and bread; 
 And, since but little could be said. 
 She had her boarder in a vise, 
 But nevertheless the fai'e was nice. 
 
 He noticed about the city 
 
 The sign of "Cremerie," 
 Where milk and eggs and bread-cuts • 
 
 Could be had economically. 
 A candle for a light at home, 
 "Shank's horses," when he wisht to roam, 
 Such the method of seeing the town 
 And keeping expenses safely down. 
 
98 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 The Louvre, the Wolf! How peculiar, 
 
 " To name a palace of art 
 After such a ravenus creature I 
 
 It alarms a timid heart. 
 Times past a hunting- castle stood, 
 'Tis said, within a dismal wood, 
 And wild beasts made their nig-htly lair, 
 Where now are courts and colums fair. 
 
 On the way down Pedagog-us 
 
 Was startled by a horn ! 
 It filld him with thots of farm-days, 
 
 When he heard it hoing corn. 
 Then it meant rest and dinner too, 
 Now 'twas the car-conductor blew. 
 Soon came strains from a shrill kazoo. 
 Toward some gewgaws to draw the vew. 
 
 Then a pea-cock's tail of windmills 
 
 Moved slowly, like the bird. 
 And merry bells a jingling 
 On Norman horses stird 
 His memorys of Christmas Tide 
 With its glistening snow and cutter-ride. 
 But "hey" or "izt" and Jehu's whip 
 Oft for the sidewalk made him skip. 
 
 What crys of despair the vendors 
 
 In Paris do emit ! 
 They hold the prevailing vowel 
 
 With eye-brows deeply knit. 
 Then break into falsetto notes. 
 And away upon the air it floats. 
 Men pass by with soaring racks 
 Of boxes piled upon their backs. 
 
 See, the convenshunal beggar 
 Neels with his dog so kind. 
 
 Eyes rolld up to heaven, 
 
 To make you believe he's blind ! 
 
99 
 
 And here comes a woman ponderusly fat. 
 Sporting- the latest Parisian hat, 
 Towing^ a poodle sheard for June, 
 And sailing aloft a toy baloon. 
 
 With a pityful sad expreshun 
 
 On his weary palid face 
 An old man trod the pavement. 
 
 In an advertising- case. 
 Upon the Fountain of Victory 
 Eg-yptian sphinxes you may see ; 
 Rusticus thot they must be ill, 
 For out of the mouth they seemd to spill. 
 
 He anxiusly lookt for a barber; 
 
 His hair was poetically long-. 
 He enterd the shop and pointed 
 
 To the part esthetically rong-. 
 The artist vevv^d him with a frown 
 And deckt him in a priestly g-own. 
 When he arose and his topnot eyed, 
 He found he was hig-hly Frenchifyd. 
 
 A- skirmish of g-uides at the Louvre 
 
 Attackt him on both flanks, 
 But he charg-ed strait thru their forces 
 
 And broke their scatterd ranks. 
 "No admishun!" the attendant said. 
 Back he stept and Baedeker read : 
 "At ten o'clock the doors are oped;" 
 That this was true, he fondly hoped. 
 
 The clock is striking. "Step in, sir!" 
 
 The same oflicial spoke. 
 He was fifteen seconds early 
 
 And a rule of the government broke. 
 After an hour of wandering around 
 Weary of art and legs he found 
 By the Venus of Milo a retreat 
 And carelessly lounged upon a seat. 
 
100 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 "Please not make a bed of it!" 
 
 Said a man in uniform. 
 Rusticus straitend up quickly 
 
 With crimson cheeks and warm. 
 Two Chicag^o men came by ; 
 "What's that?" "Venus!" On they fly. 
 A Boston g-irl the fig-ure vewd 
 And said: "Lahg- waists are very rude!" 
 
 Here comes a private of the army. 
 
 O, horors, those red pants ! 
 Bag's with broom-sticks in them, 
 
 Shame on the taste of France ! 
 Pale blue coat and light red cap, 
 Loud enuf to disturb their Nap ! 
 Two Germans follow talking low : 
 "This girl to Berlin ought to go; 
 
 We had her once in our fingers. 
 
 Napoleon filld these halls 
 With prizes from his conquests 
 
 Won with canon-balls." 
 Both arms are gone from Venus, and 
 Imaginashuns oft are fand 
 Clever theorys to weld 
 As to their form and what they held. 
 
 Rusticus has one to offer. 
 
 He thinks, that Cupid bright 
 In her left she was firmly holding 
 
 And spanrking him with her right 
 On account of the pranks, which he did play 
 With* Aeneas and Dido. Fatal day! 
 To linger was to love, and she 
 Went loving to Eternity ! 
 
 To see the paintings of Raphael 
 
 Woven into cloth. 
 Tapestry s for the palace. 
 
 Royal food for the moth, 
 
PARIS 101 
 
 Is wonderful ! The weaver sits 
 Behind his canvas of thred and knits 
 The colord yarns into richest shades — 
 Alas, that such a product fades ! 
 
 Gobelin, name most famus ! 
 
 Dilapidated bildings old, 
 Looted by the Communists 
 
 Hot in veng-ence, cold 
 To art, for in the strug-g-le wild 
 Twixt welth and poverty the child 
 Of want can not discriminate. 
 But sacrifizes all to hate. 
 
 Paris is a lively city. 
 
 But it is cloyd with deth ! 
 
 As you think upon its history, 
 You labor oft for breth. 
 
 The very pavements reek with blood ! 
 
 Revolushuns flood on flood 
 
 Have swept the streets and havoc made 
 
 With coblestones and baricade. 
 
 Just behind the Cathedral 
 
 Of Our Lady, "Notre Dame," 
 Stands a little bilding- 
 Unasuming-, calm. 
 The home of awful trag-edys, 
 Crime and Folly's darkest lees, 
 Bodys, which a night have lain 
 In the waters of the Seine. 
 
 The Morg"! Behold the pictures 
 
 Of corpses on the wall I 
 And there behind the grating- 
 Let your vishun fall 
 Upon the figure of a maid, 
 Who the game of life has playd. 
 Until devoid of every frend 
 She's found at last the bitter end. 
 
102 thf: rustic rambler 
 
 But away, we cannot ling-er ! 
 
 To the Louvre once ag^ain, 
 In the Eg-yptian Museum, 
 
 Where are the mummyd men 
 Preservd, because their shadows might 
 Need them, as thru deepest night 
 They journey on by Anubis led 
 Toward the haven of the ded. 
 
 And now we will remember 
 
 That curius bas-relief 
 On Notre Dame of Paris, 
 
 Where Hell's relentless Chief 
 Ropes in lost souls upon the left 
 Of every joy and hope bereft, 
 While those redeemd upon the right 
 Move upward to the realms of light. 
 
 The Egyptians brot in their Mummys 
 
 During a family feast. 
 And thus these home reunions 
 
 Continually increast. 
 And some there are at this late day, 
 Who feel that near them ling'ring stay 
 Ancestral spirits watching o'er 
 Their doings on Time's fleeting shore. 
 
 Fere La Chaise is a cemetery 
 On a hill above the town. 
 
 Here are buryd tragedians, 
 Poets, e'en the clown. 
 
 Architects and orators. 
 
 Generals of bloody wars. 
 
 Common peeple, men of fame ; 
 
 Beneath the sod they're all the same. 
 
 There's a row aristocratic 
 
 And quarters for the poor. 
 
 Here lies the gentle Heloise 
 And Abelard, her wooer. 
 
PARIS 103 
 
 Lovers still weep o'er their doom 
 And scatter g-ar lands on the tomb, 
 In life so cruelly torn apart, 
 A preacher and his sweet sweet-heart! 
 
 "Observe," said Pedagogus, 
 
 "How sing-le folks are free 
 From numerus afflicshuns, 
 
 Which marryd peeple see I 
 This theolog-ian should have been 
 Wedded to his hate of sin ; 
 Now a warning- here he lies. 
 Saying-, bachelors, do otherwise I" 
 
 The Romans used to quarry 
 
 Limestone near the Seine, 
 And subteranean channels 
 
 Folowing- every vein 
 Do undermine the city. Piers 
 And butreses were bilt, the fears, 
 That avenues might sink, to quell. 
 Then bodys w^ere thrown in pell-mell. 
 
 These are the famus Catacombs, 
 
 And now each speshal bone 
 Lies classifyd and labeld 
 
 Upon its shelf of stone — 
 Museum of the unnown ded 
 Before the osteologist spred ! 
 Throng-s of poor forg-otten French 
 Adorn the caverns of this trench. 
 
 Avaunt, dred Ossuary 1 
 
 We'll to the Pantheon, 
 Grand Corinthian Temple 
 
 Of noble stone upon 
 The sacred tomb of Genevieve, 
 For men of France, who shall achieve 
 Renown. Voltaire, Rousseau, have here 
 With Victor Husro found a bier. 
 
1 
 
 104 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Then to the Tomb of Napoleon 
 
 With its g-lorius g-olden dome. 
 Where Bonaparte and family 
 
 Lie in their final home, 
 And Saint Denis a few miles out; 
 Dag-obert, Clovis, and, no dout, 
 Charlemagne, were here laid down. 
 When they grew weary of the crown. 
 
 Thus we have seen in Paris, 
 
 How men do ever strive 
 At varius times and places 
 
 To keep their names alive. 
 And to preserve their bodys weak. 
 Believing that the souls do seek 
 For them, when at the final doom 
 They leave for aye the cheerless tomb. 
 
 And we have notist also 
 
 A dred of punishment 
 In rath by Gods of Ven^ence 
 
 On helpless mortals sent, 
 And how men strive to paliate 
 This vain imaginary hate 
 By fasts and prayers and sacrifize 
 And incense wafted to the skys. 
 
 At first e'en human beings 
 
 Were offerd up in blood ; 
 Then followd lambs and bullocks, 
 
 A heart-distressing flood; 
 Fruits and flowers were more humane; 
 And now thru reason cold but sane 
 We see, that God much more desires 
 The contrite soul than altar fires. 
 
 Deeds appear as causes, 
 
 And in their shure efi^ects 
 
 Reward or stern correcshun 
 The thotful man detects. 
 
VERSAILLES 105 
 
 He strives not to evade the Law 
 Of Nature, for it has no flavv^, 
 But studys carefully her ways 
 And thus prolong-s his happy days. 
 
 Versailles now tempts Pedag-ogus 
 
 From Mother Francois away, 
 To make a short excurshun 
 
 On a chill November day. 
 The train soon courses smoothly by 
 The ramparts bilt so broad and high 
 To ward off German shot and shell. 
 But all in vain, for Paris fell. 
 
 When he enterd the butiful chapel 
 
 Of the Palace at Versailles, 
 There stood a charming- young lady, 
 
 A sight, which never fails 
 To stir the blood of a bachelor lone, 
 No matter how stolid he may have grown. 
 After staring awhile with thumping brest, 
 He venchurd at last the following quest: 
 
 "Beg pardon; but do you speak English?" 
 
 "O, yes; London's my home!" 
 Then it was smoothest sailing. 
 
 And together they did roam 
 Thru those grand historic halls 
 With choicest paintings on the walls, 
 And Rusticus pourd his stock of lore 
 Upon this maid from Albion's shore : 
 
 "I have been traveling lately 
 
 Around in Germany 
 And here I find the climax 
 
 Of Prussian history." 
 "That's strange!" she said; "in France!" 
 "O, no; by warfare's lucky chance 
 William here received the name 
 Of Emperor with loud acclaim. 
 
106 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 These rooms were used for the wounded, 
 
 The pictures coverd o'er 
 With canvas, and not one of them 
 
 The slitest damage bore. 
 Alas, the grandeur of Louis Fourteen ! 
 This 'Hell of Expenses' cost between 
 Forty and fifty million pounds. 
 Not to menshun surrounding- grounds ! 
 
 Six thousand and eighty horses, 
 Thirty five thousand men, 
 
 Workt on the parks and teraces, 
 Once but a mossy fen. 
 
 On Sundays, when the fountains play, 
 
 Four hundred pounds the peeple pay, 
 
 Altho apparently it's free. 
 
 For taxes fools do never see. 
 
 Notice those chatos out yonder, 
 
 To the right of the little lake ! 
 Maintenon dwelt in the smaller. 
 
 In the other Barry would make 
 Her bed of gordius luxury. 
 These dames a rapid life and free 
 Pursued. With many an artful smile 
 They would "Their Majesties" beguile. 
 
 Once matters grew exciting; 
 
 Out came the Parisian mob, 
 And no one knew exactly. 
 
 Whose head was next to lob. 
 
 There Lafayette beloved did stand. 
 
 Who o'er the soldiers held command, 
 
 And kist the queen in plainest sight, 
 
 .To show the crowd that all was right. 
 
 And here is the Battle of Yorktown ! 
 
 Behold George Washington 
 And Rochambeau ! Corn wall is 
 
 There met two to one. 
 
VERSAILLES 107 
 
 When for New York he would embark, 
 And found no ships. All things lookt dark. 
 In front the fo filld trench on trench. 
 We owe that victory to the French." 
 
 "Arn't you weary of talking-?" 
 
 Said the dauter of John Bull. 
 "O, no;" quoth Pedagogus; 
 
 "I am so full, so full ! 
 I've been pent up for ninety days, 
 And utterd not one English fraze ! 
 Forgive me, mam, this visit brief 
 Has been to me a great relief I" 
 
 To study Natural History 
 
 Go to the ''Garden of Plants;" 
 Cuvier, LaMarck, and Humbolt 
 
 And other renownd savants, 
 Benardo de Saint Pierre, Buffon, 
 Have labord here, and thot upon 
 The absorbing mysterys of life 
 As it evolves thru endless strife. 
 
 While the Communists held Paris, 
 
 The animals were killd 
 To feed the starving peeple. 
 
 And these parks were filld 
 With ambulances. Many a shell 
 Came screaming hither, as it fell. 
 And rolling, plunging, plowing 'round 
 Amidst the cages, tore the ground. 
 
 The Wine Halls are adjacent 
 
 With barrels everywhere, 
 And alcoholic incense 
 
 Doth permeate the air. 
 Red-nosed topers out of tin 
 Hover near and thru the skin 
 Imbibe sufficient nectar sweet 
 To last until some one will treat. 
 
108 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Rusticus could not leave Paris 
 
 Without seeing- the Opera House, 
 And Meyerbeer's exquisit music 
 
 His longing- still more did rouse. 
 In this respect he was not alone, 
 And on the steps with a pleasant tone 
 A stranger began to parler francais 
 In a rapid and most confusing way. 
 
 "Perhaps you are from America!" 
 
 He used the English now — 
 "So am I and we are brothers !" 
 He cried with radient brow. 
 "And from what section do you come?" 
 "New York," said Rusticus rather glum. 
 "I am from Rio Janeiro, Gol, 
 We're scarcely nabors after a!l !" 
 
 Pedagogus ascended the Staircase 
 
 With a subdued feeling of pride. 
 He had made a point to come early 
 
 As directed by the guide. 
 And took his place in the balcony, 
 The bon ton ladys thus to see, 
 Who with kid gloves and gordius trains 
 Compensate for their lack of brains. 
 
 The steps are of polisht marble, 
 
 Rosso-antico balustrades, 
 Algerian onyx hand-rails, 
 
 And the gentlest sort of grades. 
 Like butiful pea-cocks up they crept. 
 And far below the silk gowns swept, 
 A razzle-dazzle-dizzying sight 
 To a country bumpkin out for a night. 
 
 Their shoulders reacht to the waist-belt 
 And were drest in the costume of Eve, 
 
 While Rusticus wore an overcoat 
 
 With the lining- all out of the sleeve. 
 
PARIS 109 
 
 He parted with it at the door, 
 And then with dificulty bore 
 The temperature arranged for those. 
 Who were attending- without clothes. 
 
 Between acts come experiments 
 
 Of a g-astronomical kind: 
 Many go out to the buffet, 
 
 Where stomachs are undermined 
 With numerus reagents sold 
 Liquid or solid hot or cold; 
 Others the fleeting moments pass 
 Exploring figures by opera-glass. 
 
 It is certainly amusing, 
 
 This telescopic serch 
 Among epitomized toilets. 
 
 See yonder bald-head lurch 
 Clear over his chair with monster guns 
 Leveld upon a girl, who stuns 
 His vishun with buxom buty 1 She 
 Returns his fire with a weapon wee. 
 
 But the ladys enjoyd it immensly, 
 
 And did not stop for the play. 
 It made Pedagogus quite nervus. 
 
 For they all seemd to point his way. 
 So he joind the multitude outside 
 Surging along, a frivolus tide 
 Of laffing, chatting Parisians gay 
 Thronging the halls and Grand Foyer. 
 
 ^' 
 The night is given to pleshure; 
 
 Sleep is of no account. 
 Like our own deluded peeple 
 
 They think an exhaustless fount 
 Of life is ready upon demand, 
 One reason, why they could not stand 
 Against the sturdy German band, 
 That swept a whirlwind o'er their land. 
 
110 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 When Rusticus, starting for London 
 
 Chang-ed his francs to pounds, 
 He seemd to be nearing- bankruptcy 
 With most remarkable bounds. 
 One twentieth only on the draft ! 
 It lookt as tho ofifishal graft 
 Had workt its iingers 'round his pile, 
 But still 'twould last for a little while. 
 
 The downward road to Rouen I 
 
 What an alarming thot ! 
 It reminded him of circulars 
 
 By temperance peeple wrot. 
 Tipplerstown and Topersvill 
 He expected, but a cider-mill 
 Was the only thing, that did appear 
 To realize his anxius fear. 
 
 And now we run upon witchcraft, 
 
 The famus Joan of Arc, 
 Imprisond and burnd in this city; 
 
 A street and tower mark 
 Her memory upon the heart 
 Of France, for whom with mysti(^^t 
 She led her men thru bloody scenes 
 To victory around Orleans. 
 
 But we are free from such moonshine ! 
 
 Stop a moment; is that so? 
 The witchcraft craze of Salem 
 
 Was not very long ago. 
 And hiding safely in her nook 
 Rests many a dame, who claims to look 
 Behind your ribs and trubles cure 
 By simple faith in magic pure. 
 
 No dout the enthusiasm 
 
 Inspired by brave Joan 
 Lead superstishus Frenchmen 
 
 To rush into the van. 
 
Ill 
 
 Constantine displayd the cross. 
 O'er many a hard-fot bloody foss 
 Crusaders followd without fear 
 The sacred head of the holy spear. 
 
 Mascots are all around us, 
 
 And much depends on faith ; 
 But success awaits g-ood effort, 
 
 So it's weel to ha' them, baith. 
 In battle keep your powder dry. 
 In sickness keep your spirits hig-h, 
 Put confidence in Nature's laws, 
 To stop a pain, shut off the cause. 
 
 Rusticus escaped from Rouen 
 
 And journeyd to Dieppe 
 Upon the Eng-lish Channel, 
 
 A soul-relieving- step. 
 "Veritable Cider of Normandy," 
 A leg-end you often in Paris see, 
 Is realized here, and all over town 
 The topers were pouring- the apple-juice down. 
 
 It was Sunday and the fisher peeple 
 
 Were in for a holiday. 
 Six feet from the old cathedral 
 
 Lining- the narrow way 
 Beg-an the bawdy amusement tents. 
 And the worshipers, as they wanderd hence. 
 Could banish care and worrying- frowns 
 By entering- the "Home of American Clowns!" 
 
 Near the lighthouse hang-s a fig-ure 
 
 Of The Savior on The Cross, 
 Where pray the wives and dauters 
 
 Of fishermen, who toss 
 Upon the dark and trecherus deep : 
 "O, Jesus, in Thy pity keep 
 Our husband, father, brother brave. 
 From deth beneath the hartless wave!" 
 
112 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 November winds are whistling-, 
 
 And it begins to rain; 
 The billows tumble hevily 
 
 Out yonder on the main. 
 " 'Tis a nasty sea!" the steward sed, 
 And shook his onest, noing- hed ; 
 "But we've a spunky little boat, 
 I reckon she'll manag^e to keep afloat!" 
 
 It was two o'clock in the morning-, 
 When the steamer venchurd out; 
 
 We took a bit of sleep first, 
 Then basins past about; 
 
 Everyone received a prize 
 
 Uniform in shape and size. 
 
 Anxiusly these babes we nurst, 
 
 And wonderd, who would need one first? 
 
 On board was a comical fellow, 
 
 Who boldly offerd to bet 
 On himself ag-ainst all others. 
 
 "Bloody Moses, how I swet!" 
 He groand, when like a fairy cork 
 The boat went dancing-. "Ah — New — York 
 Came from his throat, and then the fun 
 Commenced. We joind him one by one. 
 
 Here was harmony of feeling ! 
 
 We could not go on" deck; 
 In the bunks we clung in teror 
 
 Of momentary wreck.. 
 At last of filling all relieved 
 We fell a-sleep, but dreamt we heaved. 
 And boiling, rolling, pounding on, 
 We reacht the English coast anon. 
 
 A short ride brot us to London; ( 
 
 Its smoke, and fog, and rain. 
 
 Mud, gas, crowd, and rattle. 
 Rest not the. weary brain 
 
113 
 
 Of a sea-sick pilgrim, and all sed 
 There's naut for him like a good soft bed. 
 Rusticus stole to his nest away 
 And slept all nite and half of a day I 
 
 Eig-hteen hours of slumber, 
 
 Then into the vortex whirld 
 He took a peep at this monster 
 
 Metropolis of the world. 
 "Aw — shine 'em up!" A cry of despair 
 From the shoe-black on the fog^gy air. 
 Hound's-ditch, Cheap-side, Picadilly, Fleet, 
 Pall Mall, White Hall, Poultry Street, 
 
 Curius names, but natural, 
 
 They ring- of olden time. 
 There are plenty of "roads" in London 
 
 Which might fill in our rime. 
 Near Temple Bar we attended court. 
 Where the Lord Chief Justice held the fort. 
 A round black spot on his wig you see. 
 Which shows he's a sprig of the baronetcy. 
 
 Below the pettifoggers 
 
 Wore also perukes of grey. 
 Mismatching their black mustashes 
 
 In a most incongruus way. 
 Duble aged they seemd to be. 
 Thirty in front, behind eighty three! 
 No dout in speaking they turn the back. 
 Thus gaining the grace, which their faces lack. 
 
 Grand old Westminster Abbey! 
 
 Everybody goes there, 
 And rite® a glowing descripshun; 
 
 How can the structure bear 
 So much devoshun? We will be 
 Considerate, and bend the nee 
 At important tombs allowd 
 To lie neglected by the crowd. 
 
114 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 John Gay of "The Beg-g-ar's Opera," 
 
 The epitaf his own, 
 A piece of human experience. 
 
 Which doth sad hearts condone: 
 "Life is a jest and all things show it, 
 Once I thot so, now I know it." 
 A stone erected by Mathew Prior 
 Contains the following- poetic fire: 
 
 "As doctors g^ive fizic by way of prevenshun. 
 Mat, alive and in helth, of his tomb- 
 stone took care; 
 
 For delays are unsafe, and his pius intenshun. 
 May haply be never fulfilld by his heir. 
 
 Then take Mat's word for it, the sculptor is 
 paid; 
 
 That the fig^ure is fine, pray believe your 
 own eye. 
 
 Yet credit but lig-htly what more may be said, 
 
 For we flatter ourselves and teach marble 
 to lie." 
 
 By Louis Fourteen he was "busted," 
 
 And Doctor Friend then rote 
 One of his long- inscripshuns 
 
 Concerning- which we quote: 
 "Friend, for yovir epitaf s I g-rieved. 
 Where still so much is said; 
 One half will never be believed. 
 The other never read." 
 
 Let's notice the horses and cariag-e 
 Of Thomas Thynn of Long-leat; 
 
 "Shot in his coach," says the tablet, 
 A wound with dang-er replete! 
 
 A jolly Welchman proudly brag-s. 
 
 That, since his father drove the nag-s, 
 
 In the Abbey you may see 
 
 Upon the coach his effig-y. 
 
115 
 
 Georg-e the Third to Andre 
 
 Raised a monument, 
 And a bass-re-lief of Washing-ton 
 
 Buty and honor lent. 
 But our Father's head will not remain — 
 Three times replaced, but all in vain. 
 There Admiral Tyrrell we behold 
 Ascending- from the waters cold 
 
 To the clouds and cherubs of Heaven I 
 
 And doting- old Cong-reve 
 May thank his Henrietta 
 
 For the stone he doth receive. 
 Ten thousand pounds to her he left. 
 Which eased somewhat her liart bereft 
 Of one, she held by a doutful band, 
 The world could not quite understand. 
 
 And Mrs. Oldfield, the actress. 
 
 At deth lost not her hope 
 Of making- an impreshun. 
 
 And so in lines of Pope: 
 "Odius! in woolen; 'twould a saint provoke!" 
 Were the last words that poor Narissa spoke; 
 "No, let a charming- chintz and Brussels lace 
 Wrap my cold limbs andshademy lifelessface; 
 One would not shure be friteful, when one's 
 
 ded— 
 And, Betty, g-ive this cheek a little red." 
 
 We'll not omit Sir Mooreland's 
 
 Remembrance of his wives; 
 In Hebrew, Greek, and Ethiopic 
 
 He praised their g"odly lives. 
 As we walk along the northern ile. 
 We notice on a little tile 
 "O, Rare Ben Johnson!" in letters neat; 
 Below the poet stands on his feet! 
 
116 THE RUSTIC RAMBLP:R 
 
 We have tryd to do our duty. 
 
 Rememberd are a few, 
 Who sadly are neg-lected, 
 
 As folks gfo coursing- thru. 
 For approbashun we appeal, 
 To those, who with Sir Kneller feel, 
 They would not in West Minster lie. 
 For fools are put there, when they die. 
 
 At Oxford are twenty-two colleg-es 
 
 Scatterd about the town. 
 Students are passing- thru portals 
 
 In mortar-board and g-own. 
 The dining-room of Christ's is hung 
 With noted portraits and among 
 Them William Gladstone doth appear; 
 He formerly was boarding- here. 
 
 In the kitchen the cook is roasting- 
 
 Before an open fire 
 Three fat and frag-rant chickens. 
 
 Sweet victims of the pyre! 
 Quoth Rusticus: "On you, my friend. 
 Doth Eng-land's greatness much depend: 
 That rooster's leg may feed the brain 
 Which over Parliament shall reign. 
 
 Or a Tennysonian poem 
 
 May hide within his wing; 
 Who knows, what young collegian 
 
 The nashun's songs will sing?" 
 He took with grace the compliment, 
 And his lithe body suavely bent. 
 But said: "Dear Sir, a little fee 
 Would probably compensate me!" 
 
 Rusticus selected Chester 
 
 As a quiet hjiven of rest, 
 To brace for another struggle 
 
 Upon Atlantic's brest- 
 
CHESTER iVt 
 
 The city dotes upon her wall 
 Preserved intact the towers and all, 
 It circumscribes the older town, 
 And at street-crossings steps lead down. 
 
 On Sunday a throng came marching 
 
 Heded b}' a band, 
 The same Salvashun Army 
 
 That battles in our land. 
 "Maina, I want to go!" then sed 
 A Hi-Church boy. She shook berthed: 
 "No, no, my son, they are too loud; 
 You must not mingle with that crowd." 
 
 Rusticus' byots were wearing 
 
 Over at the heels. 
 But he loved them with a fervor. 
 
 That everybody feels 
 For a faithful onest friend, 
 Nearing his lamented end. 
 Roick, roick, was the tone 
 Emitted as his pedefone. 
 
 He bot a pair of s tog as 
 
 With monster hevy soles 
 And uppers that expanded 
 
 Into prodigius folds. 
 Colob, colob, was now the sound 
 As on the walk he hobbled round. 
 This stock of leather soon will be 
 Past the custom-houses free! 
 
 The boots he called Cinderellas 
 
 In a sarcastic sort of way. 
 And he dragd them into the country 
 
 To Eaton Hall next day. 
 Above the gate were the Ducal arms 
 Which for the ladys have such charms. 
 The road went gracefully winding about; 
 He followd it, till he was all tired out. 
 
118 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Rabbits popt up and skedadled, 
 
 He was wacht by the timid deer, 
 But the outlines of the Palace 
 
 Daned never to appear. 
 He g-ave it up with a sickly laff, 
 Went back, and studyd a fotograf ; 
 But of Eng-lish manors the actual size 
 Was proven both to his leg's and eyes. 
 
 'Twas a brig-ht crisp day of December, 
 
 When the "Adriatic" steamd 
 Away from the docks of Liverpool, 
 
 And the face of Rusticus beamd 
 With delite. An Italian ballet troup 
 Formd on board a motly g-roup. , 
 Tom, the steward, showd great tact 
 Translating- moshuns into fact; 
 
 For they new but little Eng-lish. 
 
 One laffing- brite brunet 
 Eyed closely the bob-taild dress-coat 
 
 Of Tomas, as it set 
 With closest fit upon him, then 
 "Fine fig-oor! Fine fig-oor!" shouted, when 
 He turnd and askt: "Is that your name?" 
 And afterward he used the same. 
 
 "Meester Tom, Meester Tom, some lag-er!'' 
 
 She calld to him one morn. 
 "Can't have it; 'twill spoil Fine Figoor!" 
 
 Said Tomas with bitter scorn. 
 At Queenstown boats came tossing out 
 Rowd by wimen old and stout. 
 The passengers a rope would loose. 
 Tied at the end into a noose; 
 
 A sturdy mother of Erin 
 
 Would settle in the loop. 
 Take a grip above, and rinkle 
 
 Her nose with an Irish "oop!" 
 
 1 
 
THE ATLANTIC 119 
 
 Then bumpytybump she came on board 
 Bring-ing- her basket full}^ stored 
 With fruit and noshuns, which she sold 
 To g-arner a bit of Eng-lish gold. 
 
 "Would ye be afther givin' me 
 
 A British shillin' for 
 This Yankee quarther, misther?" 
 
 "An' that I will, begor!" 
 Sed Rusticus in her own brogue. 
 The woman proved somewhat a rogue, 
 For later, when across he luncht, 
 He found the "quarther" had been puncht! 
 
 Mary Victoria Highheely 
 
 Listend to Rusticus' tales 
 Of travels, and then askt blandly. 
 
 How they lowerd the mails 
 To the cable in the sea? 
 She also wonderd, if there would be 
 Ruffer waves, than had been seen 
 Queenstown and Liverpool between? 
 
 "Slitely," sed wise Pedagogus, 
 
 And, when she felt the swell. 
 Over her face instanter 
 
 A cloud of despondency fell. 
 She went below and never more 
 Appeard, till on Manhattan's shore 
 They dragd her from her cherisht bunk. 
 To rumage thru her preshus trunk. 
 
 A baby in the steerage 
 
 Fell sick and died. Poor thing. 
 It could not stand the oshun! 
 
 Its mother now will bring 
 Sad news to Papa waiting- lone 
 Out on the prary for his own. 
 'Tis midnite. A circle of seething sea 
 Is lit by the moon. The white-caps free 
 
120 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 Are switch! into threds by the breezes 
 Fitful, hartless and cold. 
 
 O, how they moan thru the rig-g-ing-! 
 See the mother fold 
 
 Her darling- to her brest! Alack, 
 
 Here come two siailors with a sack! 
 
 In vain has been her tender care; 
 
 The chaplain reads a formal prayer; 
 
 Then down to its bed eternal 
 
 The body g-ently g-lides, 
 Down amid the corals 
 
 And sea-weed green it hides. 
 Rest sweetly, little baby mine, 
 'Neath the tossing-, foaming- brine! 
 We have left you there to sleep 
 "Rockt in the cradle of the deep." 
 
 On the nineteenth of December 
 At precisely ten o'clock 
 
 The steamer struck upon something-, 
 That felt very much like a rock. 
 
 Rub-dub-dub! The eng-ins stopt. 
 
 Men turnd pale. Wimen dropt. 
 
 A rush for deck, a sailor's joke, 
 
 "Only a pilot," the words he spoke. 
 
 We are ten miles from Nantucket 
 
 Ag-round upon the shoals, 
 And a mean and choppy o«hun 
 Ag-ainst the larboard rolls. 
 Captain Parsell, head all bare. 
 Runs to the wheel with llyine" hair. 
 The eng-ins labor at the shaft 
 To swing- around the mity craft. 
 
 The water boils into soap-suds 
 
 From the churning of the wheel. 
 
 At last a g-entle sliding 
 
 Beneath the ship we feel. 
 
HOMK 121 
 
 She's moving- now! Thank God, we're off! 
 But still we chug- in every troff. 
 O, for a thousand feet oi sea! 
 Henceforth too deep it can not be! 
 
 That nite a fool of a smarty 
 
 Went yelling thru the hall. 
 We sprang- from our bunks in teror, 
 
 For we were nervus all. 
 But a reashuring- word from Tom 
 Produced a welcom mental calm. 
 In the morning we stood off the bar 
 And saw Bartholdi loom afar. 
 
 Rusticus maild a letter 
 
 As soon as he came ashore 
 To his most devoted parents, 
 
 Who did not no before 
 E'en that he was homeward bound. 
 He rote: "At Crismas I'll be found 
 On hand for turky. Save a place, 
 And let Grandfather say the g-race. " 
 
 And as to the bill of expenses 
 
 He was forst to pay, 
 We'll subtract what's in his pocket 
 
 From the amount he took away. 
 Two hundred sixteen, fifty one 
 Squares the account, when all is done. 
 Four months, seven days, he has been gone, 
 And not a thing- is left in pawn. 
 
 For weeks it was quite curius. 
 
 When American work he'd see. 
 How cheap, unrawt and spurius 
 
 It all now seemd to be. 
 Push things thru to a rapid end. 
 Use and smash, then patch and mend! 
 Everywhere was graft and dole, 
 Lack of buty, finish, soul. 
 
122 THE RUSTIC RAMBLER 
 
 But sloly we are gaining, 
 
 As the decades onward roll, 
 And, when we cease our straining 
 
 For money as a goal. 
 We'll get a deal more out of life. 
 Goodwill and friendship will be rife, 
 The oshun will no longer bound ■ 
 And men seem men the world around. 
 
 
1 
 
 I 
 
015 908 818 2 ^