LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ' 
 
 DDDDETDb'^EE 
 
 
 

 J • 
 
 .>^' 
 
 
 : \./ .*Jfe'- %.*'' :Mk' \./ .-Jfev ^^ 
 
 
 

 
 ■ft" .♦l.r»x.% 't, C" 
 
 q« */;■.•* ^0 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^^. c> 
 
 
 0^ % ♦'Tt;'*' <n 
 
 
 "-^a.-^^' 
 
 .^^^^'^ 
 'V^ ^ 
 
 
 
 
 ,'. '**o< : 
 
'^::i. 
 
*HE face we find within this picture 
 Is not her own, it is my stricture ; 
 Because I love, where'er I roam 
 To think of her as safe at home. 
 And ready to receive me there. 
 
 Also the busy little sprite 
 
 Gathering the leaves both quaint and rare, 
 Is one of those who often light 
 
 Before me, when my wandering feet 
 Need guidance in the mazy street, 
 Or on life's darkened thorouErhfare. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by Harvey A. Fuller, in the 
 
 Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington 
 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
^HE OBJECT of this Book, wliy not declare it, 
 Is to get gain, the means whereby to live ; 
 'Tis like all others, though their authors swear it, 
 N.oae would believe them : none but surplus give. 
 
 • 
 It may be, after all, upon reflection, 
 
 These lines, though simple, may some truth unfold ; 
 Some gentle hint, some kindly retrospection. 
 
 To lift dull care, and profit young and old. 
 
 If so, the point is gained, for when the writer 
 
 And patient reader (or it may be savage) 
 Make fair exchange, both hearts will be the lighter. 
 
 And neither needs to rectify a ravage, 
 
 [SEK LAST PAGE.] 
 
INVOCATION. 
 
 THOU invisible and uncreated God, who in the 
 Earliest events of time wert old as nov^^, to Thee, 
 And not to muse, by human fancy formed, I lift 
 My prayer. O bless my song, inspire my thought, 
 And make each verse with sense replete. The bards 
 Who seek their inspiration from the Delphian gods 
 All miss their chance The draughts they drink 
 Are second hand, polluted by the channel whence 
 They run ; the fountain of true song is found in Thee— 
 In Thee alone ! First, let me ask, for asking doth 
 Become me well, and Thou hast said, ask and receive — 
 The promise, with the precept closely joined, no limit 
 Bears. First, let me ask, that Thou wilt cleanse 
 My heart from everything impure— ambition, pride, 
 And all their train of selfish weeds, I pray uproot. 
 And plant, instead, sweet flowers of heavenly truth : 
 Which taking root in time, shall spring to bear 
 Eternal fruit in Paradise restored. Then, let this 
 Hand, which Thou hast made and fashioned like 
 Thine own— which wrote on flinty stone the changeless 
 Code— trace- out these lessons well, that human 
 Eyes may read, and human hearts may thereby 
 Be refreshed. 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 PAGE E 
 
 Darkness at Noontide . . . . . . 5 | [■ 
 
 The Storm 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 8 
 
 Penn Dennis . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 9 
 
 Consolation , . • , 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 10 
 
 Tlie Difference 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 13 
 
 Our Pledge 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 13 
 
 In Memoriam . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 15 
 
 Our Alma Mater 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 16 
 
 Star of Our Hope 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 17 
 
 Health and Temperance 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 18 
 
 Light of Experience . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 19 
 
 Kiches . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 20 
 
 How Ave Manage Hard Times 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 •22 
 
 H^'mn of Praise 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 23 1 
 
 Counsel to the Young 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 23 1 
 
 Vacation 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 24 
 
 Vacation Over 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 25 
 25 
 
 Our Band of Hope 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Irish Logic 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 27 
 
 Impudence 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 27 
 
 Newly Fiedged 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 28 
 
 Lines to My Wife 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 29 
 
 Ode to the St. Lawrence 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 30 
 
 Lines Addressed to a Mountai 
 
 n 
 
 
 
 
 
 31 
 
 Ode to the Sea 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 32 
 
 To the Memory of Hauy 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 33 
 
 Song of the Workers . 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 34 
 
 When I am Old 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 35 
 
 Work and Pray 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 36 
 
 Song of the Heart 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 36 
 
 The Victor's Song 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 37 
 
 On the Train . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 38 
 
 The Devil Outdone 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 38 
 
 The Devil Ahead 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 41 ; 
 
 After Election 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 41 
 
 The Blues 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 43 
 
 Why Should we Fret 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 43 
 
 To H. I. Burr, Esq. . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 44 
 
 Ideal Manhood 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 44 ; 
 
 Bygones 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 45 \ 
 
 Heaven 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 46 
 
 References and Address 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 48 ! 
 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 I 
 
STRAY LEAVES 
 
 DARKNESS AT NOONTIDE. 
 
 ^M I awake, or do I dream ? 
 
 s Are things around me as they seem ? 
 This steady, ceaseless, surging motion, 
 Like billowy heavings of the ocean — 
 That drifts me onward, ever on, 
 As ship with mast and ruddor gone ; 
 Som,etimes for better, much for worse, 
 Like poetaster making verse. 
 
 Yes, I but dream ! The world around 
 Is to my life a world of sound ; 
 Nor always that. I've seen it still 
 And whisperless. The Whippowil 
 Had ceased its notes, and every bird 
 And every beast, from far and near, 
 Was silent. Not a sound was heard 
 From human lips, but instant fear 
 Possessed creation as it stood 
 Breathless and pulseless : lake and wood. 
 
— 6— 
 
 The sun from out the deepening blue 
 His arrowed hosts of liglit withdrew, 
 And sudden awful darkness came ; 
 So dark I could not find it name, 
 Nor aught comparison could find. 
 No words can picture it. The blind. 
 Born to their fate, must ever be 
 Blind to such change, such destiny. 
 
 And since that storm mj^ life's bereft 
 
 Of half its charms. All light is cleft 
 
 From out the universe. Not one 
 
 Of all the stars, that nightly run 
 
 Their silent, silvery course in air— 
 
 Which, as the psalmist said, declare 
 
 God's glory— speaks one word to me. 
 
 A dark, mysterious, changeless sea, 
 
 Like that which men of science think 
 
 Lies just outside earth's atmosphere— 
 
 And other worlds — envelopes all ; 
 
 And into these vast depths of ink 
 
 I sunk, with something of that fear 
 
 Which did the evil hosts befall. 
 
 When, keeping not their first estate, 
 
 Were from their birthright radiance driven : 
 
 In chains of darkness long to wait 
 
 The just decree of injured Heaven. 
 
 I can but dream ! — Nor is it strange 
 For one whose intellect could range 
 The verdant earth and radiant sky, 
 And look with ever wondering eye 
 Upon God's creatures, everywhere, 
 That roam the fields, or wing the air ; 
 But most on those of his own kind 
 Who image of His glory bear — 
 When doomed to be forever blind. 
 
The fearful storm that swept my world 
 
 Of fact and fancy, and me hurled 
 
 From liights where towering sunlight shines 
 
 Down into subterranean mines, 
 
 Where naught but darkness loves to dwell, 
 
 Long since has passed. I marked it well I 
 
 And all these yeirs, that move so slack 
 
 Upon their long and beaten track, 
 
 Like serpent with ill-jointed back, 
 
 Have wriggled on and off again. 
 
 They said to me, as if in jest, 
 
 We bear on our unwelcome breast 
 
 The strong and hopeful, able men, 
 
 But you may stand aside and rest. 
 
 You know (they laughel) it would not do 
 
 To give them death that for it sue — 
 
 Grim death's a terror, has a sting, 
 
 But can to you no evil bring. 
 
 'Tis o'er ! The thunder and the flash, 
 
 The earthquake shock, the ponderous dasli 
 
 Of furious tempest, hail and rain, 
 
 But yet the dire effects remain. 
 
 When other storms have swept the earth 
 
 With devastation fierce and wild — 
 
 They've cleared, and where before was dearth, 
 
 Sprung quickly, joyous, living green. 
 
 And nature in all phases smiled : 
 
 And kinder, better days were seen. 
 
 Would God it were so in my case ! 
 
 That out of this deep dungeon place, 
 
 Wherein my tortured soul remains 
 
 Still struggling with its giant chains, 
 
 This soul might rise, elate and free 
 
 To grasp again those rays of light, 
 
 Which from tl e first wrought day from night, 
 
 And pour their floods eternally 
 
 On all who have the eyes to see. 
 
Unhappy fate ! But then I trow 
 
 ra rather be as I am now : 
 
 Deprived of sight, and doomed to grope 
 
 My journey through, without one hope 
 
 Of ever seeing, than to be 
 
 Like multitudes of men I meet, 
 
 Who cast a pitying look on me, 
 
 And deem their happiness complete 
 
 When outward sight is all they've got. 
 
 This brings them clothing, food and drink; 
 
 But they have never stopped to think 
 
 Of higher joys : their lives must rot, 
 
 Their memories perish when they're dead ; 
 
 Their bodies are the only thing 
 
 That can remembrance of them bring — 
 
 When these are buried, all is fled. 
 
 THE STORM. 
 
 [WEAVY and harsh falls the rain on the roof, 
 -^ Dismal and dread are the echoes within ; 
 Turbid and deep all the well-springs of life. 
 Flowing through channels of darkness and sin. 
 
 Strangely uncertain the fortunes of life — 
 Helpless and weak we step into earth's shades ; 
 
 Folly is youthtirne, despair is old age — 
 Manhood a struggle 'gainst poverty's raids 
 
 Tossed to and fro on this treacherous sea : 
 Maelstroms and breakers, a death-rolling tide — 
 
 Beacon-lights glimmer, then pall into night ; 
 Shorn by the tempest we rudderless glide. 
 
— 9 — 
 
 Slackens the rain, and the sunshine breaks through- 
 Tinges the storm-clouds with silver and gold ; 
 
 Fairer and brighter each moment the view : 
 So does my heart grow courageous and bold. 
 
 PENN DENNIS. 
 
 )ENN DENNIS was a mau who lived away 
 From all the busy scenes of civic life ; 
 
 Nor did he e'er possess a wish to stray 
 
 From rural haunts, except when urged by wife 
 
 Or noisy children, when, to cease from strife, 
 And have a moment's peace, he would consent: 
 
 And then declare, at home 'tis war to knife ; 
 I go, but you, " old lady," will repent — 
 You and the young ones here are all hell bent. 
 
 Then he, like others, whom they call hen-pecked, 
 Who bluster and of courage make a show — 
 
 Altho' their fiery passions soon are checked. 
 On seeing wife for tongs and hammer go — 
 
 Starts out, nor dares, " for worlds," to answer no. 
 Ho takes old Dobbin from his pleasant stall — 
 
 Who, like his master, hates to travel so, 
 And gears him to the heavy carry all : 
 Then shouts, " come on ! " as loud as he can bawl. 
 
 His horse and wagon and his living load 
 Are all the poor man has on earth to love ; 
 
 Nor does the hope his lagging spirits goad 
 That he shall meet these in the world above. 
 
'Tis just as well, perhaps : it might not move 
 Him much, to change this for that better sphere. 
 
 He fondly hopes hereafter he may rove, 
 
 Free from all earthly scenes, and he may hear 
 Tso more of earth, that now distracts his ear. 
 
 They start ! the clattering wagon drowns in part 
 Discordant words, and jangling infant's howl. 
 
 Then varied scenes their genial warmth impart, 
 And from all faces dissipate the scowl — 
 
 As adverse winds evolve fnir skies from foul ; 
 And when they reach the busy, boisterous town, 
 
 A draught of comfort from the flowing bowl 
 Puts all corroding sorrows further down, 
 And Dennis feels like one of high renown. 
 
 Meanwhile, his wife and daughters seek the store, 
 Where yard :stick knights obsequious vigils keep. 
 
 And into willing ears their flatteries pour — 
 And thereby oft a wondrous harvest reap, 
 
 Not for necessities, but things so cheap! 
 Which, notwithstanding, makes poor Dennis stare 
 
 And with another glass his sensLS steep — 
 Then filled with drink, oppressed by caustic care, 
 He huiTies home, and curses all things there. 
 
 CONSOLATION. 
 
 WEET consolation ! — glorious gift, 
 The darkest clouds are often rift 
 And settled griefs obliged to shift 
 
 Their quarters at thy magic touch. 
 There are some trials to be sure 
 That we mundaners must endure, 
 But we may find a speedy cure 
 
 And consolation for all such. 
 
^hy fill our hearts with anxious woe 
 
 Because the Chinese will not go ? 
 
 Our land might swarm with tribes more low 
 
 If all these Chinamen were gone. 
 What if old-country people come 
 By ship loads, need we fret and foam ? 
 We came here first, and we're at home — 
 
 Let them "go west" as we have done. 
 
 Why vex ourselves, as brethren do, 
 To what extent the wicked rue 
 Their misdeeds, here th.ir future due 
 
 Will be all we would like to bear. 
 It may be wise to foster fear, • 
 
 It checks oftimes our wild career ; 
 But more of love our hearts would cheer, 
 
 And spice and season life's rough fare. 
 
 Such salutary thoughts as these, 
 Employed good Deacon Like to-please, 
 When, to his great delight, he sees 
 
 "Pendennis' relic " in her weeds. 
 There ! thought the Deacon, there's my chance — 
 These godly views I will advance, 
 It will my gifts and joys enhance : 
 
 Besides, 'tis what the poor thing needs. 
 
 'Tis sad, dear sister, Deacon said, 
 That we are called to mourn the dead. 
 But consolation's light is shed 
 
 O'er every dark and devious way — 
 Life's journey soon with us is o'er, 
 On spirit wings we then may soar 
 Away, to meet those gone before 
 
 And share with them eternal day. 
 
Soon as we lose this vital spark 
 
 We leave this world, so drear and dark, 
 
 And join at once — Land ! Deacon, hark !- 
 
 I cannot stand tliat anyhow. 
 Tour consolation tortures me ; 
 Your future's dark as dark can be — 
 My husband I can never see; 
 
 His first wife's got hiin long 'fore now. 
 
 THE DIFFERENCE. 
 
 would like well to know if beyond the bright stars, 
 In that radiant kingdom of glory and bliss. 
 
 The people have feelings akin to our own, 
 And act them in that world as we do in this. 
 
 Do the angelic beings have titles and caste, 
 
 Or stations of influence measured by birth ? 
 When a poor one comes in is he always obscure, 
 
 Or a Jack at-apiuch as he finds it on earth ? 
 
 Have they high and low churchmen with " Doxies" for guides, 
 With " Hetero " for j our dox and " Ortho " for mine ; 
 
 Do the preachers form rings for protection up there, 
 And the laity sometimes their betters malign ? 
 
 The multitudes think they are in the straight way — 
 
 " Old school" and " new school " gaily flourish their passes ; 
 
 The heterodox sinner and orthodox saint. 
 
 The stalely and poor, with udd chicks of all classes. 
 
 All going to heaven ! a strange, motley crowd — 
 The Ro:nanist, Protestant, Mormon, and Jew ! 
 
 Some mumbling their worship, and some shouting loud. 
 But agreed in one thing, that none other is true. 
 
— 13 — 
 
 If society changes and church lines fade out, 
 Placing worth in the front and pretence in the rear, 
 
 There will be such a singular jostling about, 
 Twould be well to be making some "slight " changes here. 
 
 There is one fact, at least, that we may as well learn — 
 That all earthly distinctions will stand in derision, 
 
 When the Judge of the Earth to His ledger shall tura 
 To balance accounts for the final decision. 
 
 OUR PLEDGE. 
 
 mourn with the deepest of sorrow, 
 
 The course 1 have so long pursued ; 
 From my own vital fund strength to borrow, 
 And thus on the future intrude. 
 
 Oh ! why was I left in my madness, 
 
 To wander in darkness and gloom ? 
 When my cup might have o'erflown with gladness, 
 
 Instead of this bitterest doom. 
 
 The azure above seems so dreary — 
 It has shut out the last hope of grace, 
 
 And my eyes turning upward grow weary, 
 While a death hue steals over ray face. 
 
 But, hold ! there's a rift in the heavens — 
 
 A vision of glory I see : 
 And a voice the whole universe leavens, 
 
 Is wliispering mercy to me. 
 
— 14 — 
 
 It says, "son of earth, why despairing; 
 
 Wliy art thou fore.ver cast down ? 
 Heard ye not of the mansions preparing ; 
 
 Know ye not of the palm and the crown ? " 
 
 "Heard ye not of the sacrifice given ; 
 
 The vicarious sutfering and cross ? 
 When communion with heaven was riven 
 
 To man's irretrievable loss." 
 
 How a plan of most marvelous beauty 
 
 Was devised to wipe out the disgrace- 
 Placing man in the pathway of duty, 
 With hope at the end of the race. 
 
 And this plan, so consistent with reason, 
 With justice and mercy and love. 
 
 Reaches downward to man in his treason, 
 With a passport to favor above. 
 
 It stoops to the lowest condition 
 Of vice, degradation, and shame, 
 
 And to help man to gain manumission 
 The Spirit of holiness came. 
 
 With Its aid, son of earth, once more e-ather 
 Thy energies up for the strife — 
 
 Turn, turn, to the Infinite Father, 
 Like the prodigal son, for thy life I 
 
 Flee at once all vile habits of body, 
 Spei'd thee back from the precipice edge ; 
 
 Weave no longer these garments of shoddy. 
 But white robes, with this abstinence pledge. 
 
— 15 — 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 [Prof. Hiram Collier.] 
 
 '¥ 
 •^v 
 
 min'hOU art ffone, and we movirn thee, youth's dearest instructor, 
 Companion of manhood and prop of old age ; 
 Thou hast fought the good fight, and thy life's work is over, 
 God crowns thee a hero, man crowns thee a sage. 
 
 In years thou wert young, yet in dr^eds thou wert aged. 
 The gray hairs of wisdom hid mantled thy brow ; 
 
 But thy great loving heart beat with freshness of youth-time, 
 And could never to pain or infirmity bow. 
 
 A marvel of worth, with a mind keen and ready — 
 A heart that was quick 1o respond to each call : 
 
 The mainspring of life so well balanced and steady — 
 The seal of perfection seem placed upon all. 
 
 And why was it thus ? when the home and the college, 
 The church and the prayer-circle needed his aid — 
 
 With fond hearts and fond hopes crushed and blighted forever, 
 O why was the hand of the spoiler not staid ? 
 
 Sad the answer : alas ! 'tis the doom of the earthly, 
 The cold h-md of fate points us all to this goal ; 
 
 E'en the Son of the Heavenly entered death's portal. 
 To light up the way to the honae of the soul. 
 
 Faint gleams of that light cheer our desolate pathway, 
 And wring our consent to the loss we deplore ; 
 
 They tell us of lands that no clouds overshadow, 
 Of reunion and rest for the weary in store. 
 
 'Twas this faith in the future that buoyed up our brother 
 It smoothed down his pillow of anguish and pain. 
 
 For though losing this world he was sure of another 
 Where the faithful a blissful existence obtain. 
 

 _^--^. 
 
 OUR ALMA MATER. 
 [Hillsdale College]. 
 
 ^pi^APPY to day is our dear Alma Mater — 
 ■^'~' Queenly she sits ou her greeu college throne : 
 Sees from the distance her children returning ; 
 Joy thrills her bosom to welcome her own ! 
 
 Bravely these absent ones stepped from her threshold — 
 Stern was the fortune some pathways beset ; 
 
 But the dear thought of the eyes that still watched them, 
 Nerved every heart for the contlicts it met. 
 
 '^Virttis tcjitaynine ffaudet," her motto — 
 
 This, the grand watchword, their courage upstaid : 
 Brought them success out of fainting disaster ; 
 
 Steeled them for battle, where rights were betrayed. 
 
 Sweet the beginning, sweeter still the returning-, 
 Thus may we hopefully work to the end : 
 
 Work till the dawn of that better " Reunion," 
 Up to whose welcome we wait to ascend. 
 
 — i6 — 
 
— 17 — 
 STAR OF OUR HOPE. 
 
 -AJr was tossed all alone on a shoreless sea, 
 ^ And the storm was abroad over its fathomless deep — 
 While the heavens above seemed o'erhung with a pall, 
 And the sentinel stars were all dead or asleep ; 
 And I said, O where is there hope for me, 
 For the storm is wild and the tempest free ? 
 
 But the storm fiercely raged in its fury and might, 
 And the blackness of darkness enshrouded me still — 
 While the bellowing thunders re-echoed their groans. 
 And the demons of death seemed to roam at their will, 
 And I cried, God ! look in pity on me. 
 For no refuge on earth from Thy wrath can I see ! 
 
 Soon there came a lull in the turbulent scene — 
 The terrible darkness was cleft in twain. 
 The thunders were hushed, the billows were stayed, 
 The death-dirge was changed to a living strain — 
 When a star beamed forth so gloriously 
 That I said, can it be that this change is for me ? 
 
 Then in tones far richer than angels wake. 
 Or the song of the stars at Creation's birth, 
 A voice broke forth in the rapturous words — 
 *' Look unto me, O son of earth, 
 When the trials of life are too bitter for thee I 
 I am thy hope and thy destiny." 
 
 Since that dreary and weary and watchful night, 
 And its radiant morning so calm with hope, 
 I have tenderly pondered the words of my Lord, 
 And when with the storms of life I cope, 
 I never look down with distrust to the sea — 
 But joyfully up, where my future shall be ! 
 
HEALTH AND TEMPERANCE. 
 
 \ GOD, Tliou art God ! and there is none beside Thee : 
 > Immutable justice and wisdom are Thine— 
 And though oftimes the nations of earth have defied Thee, 
 Thy mercy and love undiminished doth shine. 
 
 O why should frail man in his folly upbraid Thee, 
 And curse Thee for evils his own hand hath wrought : 
 
 When his own stubborn will was the buckler that staid Thee 
 From filling his life with rich blessings unsought. 
 
 The laws of the universe, (methods of forces) 
 Evolved from Thy presence its movements to guide ; 
 
 Not only to orbit the worlds in their courses, 
 But even for man's petty wants to provide, 
 
 Were ordained for all good ; without them confusion 
 And chaos would reigti : all science and art, 
 
 And morals and physics, would be an illusion, 
 And knowledge on most points no one could impart. 
 
 (Addressing my fellows) — these laws are perverted, 
 
 We daily transgress them, as all of us own, 
 And when evils result, we hear it asserted — 
 
 " God's ways are inscrutable, wholly unknown." 
 
 And so it may be, in the sense of the poet. 
 
 In mystery moving His ways to perform, 
 But when we transgress, the most stupid should know it — 
 
 The consequence follows until we reform. 
 
 The pains we thus suffer are wholesome restrictions, 
 Are blessings disguised— as our grandams would say — 
 
 Meeting every transgression and all derelictions 
 Of duty whenever we happen to stray. 
 
— 19 — 
 
 'Tis the kind of a blessing tliat came to Sir Weaver, 
 And his reprobate family, Mrs. Weaver and all, 
 
 They were chiding and cursing religion, and never 
 Had listened one moment to charity's call. 
 
 Well, it fell out at length that one son was snake-bitten — 
 Did the bite kill the snake ! well, our s ory don't tell ; 
 
 But the doom of poor Bill was undoubtedly written, 
 And the preacher was called that his end might be well. 
 
 O God, said the preacher, praise is due Thee, forever, 
 For rattle snakes, " sorgers," and beasts of that cast : 
 
 Accept, Lord, our thanks for this bite of Bill Weaver, 
 Which brought him to see his condition at last. 
 
 We pray Thee to set a big snake on the father, 
 
 And give the " old woman " of treatment the same: 
 
 Bite Tom, and bite Jim, 'till to Thee they shall gather — 
 For noihing hut snakes can the Weavers reclaim. 
 
 Wh u these sufferings and pains have served all their function, 
 To make us reform, and it's deemed of no use — 
 
 They rally and strike with a parting injunction 
 To prepare for a state that is free from abuse. 
 
 So we argue for temperance, for peace and right living, 
 That our lives may be prosperous, happy and long ; 
 
 And instead of lamenting, be full of thanksgiving 
 To the Author of Good, who can never do wrong. 
 
 THE LIGHT OF EXPERIENCE. 
 
 sQJrE stood at the telephone bell, 
 ^■^-^ With a wish to converse with his wife; 
 But the far-away voice seemrd so strange 
 That he could not decide for his life. 
 
So he asked for more definite proof, 
 That the voice which he heard v.as her own; 
 
 Tell me something domestic, said he, 
 That we, and we only, have known. 
 
 It chanced when the test was applied, 
 That a storm-cloud was hovering near, 
 
 And it, too, had a message to give, 
 That played on the wire to his ear. 
 
 When picked up from his swoon he declared 
 That the proof was too strong to demur : 
 
 'Twas the light of experience to him — 
 It was her ! — yes, indeed! it was her I 
 
 RICHES. 
 
 ^E^HE sunset tinged the lowering clouds, 
 •^ And gave to them a golden hue — 
 While modest stars stole sofily out 
 The tranquil twilight scene to view. 
 
 I stood bewildered at the sight, 
 
 Then said, " though poor and scarcely known. 
 This gorgeous sunset, lovelit sky 
 
 And beauteous landscape are my own." 
 
 Yes, they are mine ! The sun by day, 
 The stars that spangle evening's dome : 
 
 The air I breathe, all nature's gifts — 
 Though wealth deny me lands aud home. 
 
 Why not content ? The rich have cares, 
 
 Anxieties, I cannot know — 
 The eyes of envy at them glower : 
 
 Crime scents their steps where'er they go. 
 
And this because of hoarded wealth, 
 «The which some honest men admired, 
 And wrought with peisevcrin; skill 
 'Till they had much of it acquired. 
 
 Nay, not so fast, they po^irer grew— 
 
 For none have much who crave for more ; 
 
 He "who is satisfied is rich 
 With scarce a gleam of shining ore. 
 
 Wealth gives unrest. The miser's soul 
 And body, too, with labor groans ! 
 
 One millionaire was, after death. 
 Obliged to travel in his bones. 
 
 Brings luxury ! The land and sea- 
 Each silvery stream and wild-wood glen 
 
 Must ravished be, to ornament 
 
 Or feast th:se pampered sous of men. 
 
 The brute creation hangs its head 
 For very shame, to see mankind 
 
 Glutton in vast variety ; 
 Then turn treated wants to tind ! 
 
 For them one kind is bountiful, 
 
 Supplying all their needs and wishes : 
 
 Giving us hint, who pray for bread, 
 With hope 'twill come in dainty dishes. 
 
 Thus does great wealth become a snare, 
 And poverty ensnares men, too : 
 
 Give me but strength to earn my bread, 
 With God to bless whate'er I do. 
 
HOW WE MANAGE HARD TIMES. 
 
 Y wife is an excellent sleeper, 
 
 Which is more than most husbands can say ; 
 While asleep it takes nothing to keep her, 
 
 And we save quite a bit in that way. 
 
 The coal in the snug stove bums slowly 
 
 Through the long night and part of the day, 
 
 And the rich will agree with the lowly, 
 To save fuel these "hard times " will pay. 
 
 The tramps and the beggars came often 
 For cotfee and something to eat ; 
 
 Their prayers would a miser's heart soften, 
 Their tones are so plaintive and sweet. 
 
 But now, since dear wife took to sleeping 
 
 So late, all this trouble is o'er : 
 They conclude we've relinquished housekeeping, 
 
 And call for their breakfast next door. 
 
 What's more ! since these late naps have blessed her, 
 
 Wife is dumb as a locmaa can be ! 
 And four hours in the morning of rest, sir, 
 
 From all strife is a blessing to me. 
 
 So taking these things all together, 
 
 I think it is safe to advise 
 That to sleep through hard times and cold weather 
 
 Is a counsel you need not despise. 
 
— 23 — 
 HYMN OF PRAISE. 
 
 ^? PIRIT invisible, around as above me, 
 
 ^ Speak Thou in pity, dear Lord, to my heart ; 
 
 Friendless I must be if Thou should'st not love me — 
 Heir of a kingdom, if grace Thou'lt impart. 
 
 Cheered by Thy presence, life seems worth the living — 
 Light iu the darkness and hope in despair ; 
 
 Honor and praise to Thee angels are giving, 
 May I not join with them, praise to declare ? 
 
 Works of creation are full of Thy Glory — 
 
 Sun, moon, and stars, and the earth, all rejoice ; 
 
 All but the human heart echoes the story — 
 Chilled and depraved by sin it has no voice. 
 
 Then, though my accents be feeble, don't chide me ; 
 
 Think of the depths. Lord, through which I have come : 
 Let me be loved of Thee, what else betide me. 
 
 Then shall my weary feet rest in Thy home. 
 
 COUNSEL TO THE YOUNG. 
 
 ■jNhjEVE'R laugh or make sport of the trials of others, 
 ■^^ Misfortune may have you as deep in its clutches: 
 Remember mankind are your sisters and brothers, 
 'Tis like beating a cripple to death with his crutches. 
 
 Don't whisper in company, nor do all the talking — 
 Nor be too familiar, such things bring contempt ; 
 
 Nor converse with your neighbor, across the street walking — 
 From " cant phrases " and " by-words " be always exempt. 
 
— 24 — 
 
 Hold your temper ; don't ever get into a passion 
 If others unwittingly hedge up your way : 
 
 Don't be in a hurry to ape every fashion 
 In wearing apparel or what you may say. 
 
 Be kind to the poor, your wealth is but lent you, 
 "We are stewards of all, as the scriptures have said ; 
 
 Give respect to the aged, nought but death can prevent you 
 From treading the pathway they tremblingly tread. 
 
 Hasten not to be rich : seek improvemant and study- 
 True riches consist in the wealth of the mind ; 
 
 Keep cheerful, and then to be healthy and ruddy 
 Be not to your appetites basely inclined. 
 
 VACATION. 
 
 i WHY has the clock of the College run down, 
 
 And why is its neighborhood breathlesslj^ still ; 
 Not a man is astir, not a woman is heard — 
 E'en the breezes float languidly over the hill. 
 
 A dead calm ! since the storm of Commencement is fled : 
 That storm which for months had been surging and beating 
 
 Through chapel and hall, over campus and streets, 
 The rest of the nervous incessantly cheating. 
 
 What a change ! As the bees in the tropics forget, 
 
 Or discover it useless to store up their food, 
 So our clocks all ran down : and the chapel and church 
 
 Did our worship so well we forgot to be good. 
 
 Of course we are willing to take up the cross ; 
 
 But the clock in the steeple why let it run down: 
 We ought to have one dear reminder at least 
 
 Of the Dame on the hill who supported the town. 
 
— 25 — 
 VACATION OVER. 
 
 PEHOLD ! Astonished be and live ! 
 Our life-blood starts, all bosoms thrill — 
 A resurrection day has come, 
 A nation's born to College Hill. 
 
 Where all before was sad and drear— 
 Where briers grew instead of roses : 
 
 Where human beings scarce appeared, 
 
 And then to look straight down their noses, 
 
 Is joyous mirth and flowering Spring— 
 The dullest hearts loud praises singing ; 
 
 E'en the " great clock " has started in, 
 In ponderous tones its welcome ringing. 
 
 As when the hosts of Koderick Dhu, 
 His signal heard, and rallied all : 
 
 So this great host (in nobler cause) 
 Have answered to their matron's call. 
 
 And still they come ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 
 
 The side-walks bend beneath their tramp- 
 Instructor, student, 'lumnus too : 
 
 There's Bailey with his A.stral lamp I 
 
 OUR BAND OF HOPE. 
 
 [KD you, our valiant Band of Hope, 
 D The pride and promise of our nation, 
 We trust that you'll have strength to cope 
 With every demon-like temptation. 
 
— 26 — 
 
 You've crossed the rubicon the fates 
 Had rolled before you in your cradle — 
 
 The whisky slings and opiates, 
 And knick-knacks from the nurse's table. 
 
 You're standing on your stalwart feet, 
 And they are in the path of honor — 
 
 That leads to virtue's blest retreat, 
 Don't halt nor turn your back upon her. 
 
 Seek only joys of pure delight 
 
 That from the temperance bowl are flowing ; 
 All other pleasures pall and blight. 
 
 The foulest curses oft bestowing. 
 
 Now you have learned the way to live, 
 You must the light impart to others — 
 
 To freely take and freely give 
 Becomes you, as a band of brothers. 
 
 There's work enough for all to do. 
 Don't fold your aims 'till we shall finish : 
 
 Rum-sellers yet may find that you 
 
 Have power to make their trade diminish. 
 
 Your numbers are not large, we know, 
 But one sometimes a thousand chases : 
 
 And when we strike for right, each blow 
 The stubborn foe still more disgraces. 
 
 And you who have the care of youth — 
 Ye parents, guardians, and teachers, 
 
 Fling high and wide the flag of truth, 
 Till it shall wave o'er all God's creatures. 
 
 Let all who love our cause fight on : 
 Beyond the strife there's rest and glory— 
 
 And when life's battles all are won. 
 We'll sing in heaven the joyful story. 
 
— 27' — 
 
 Dear friends, we're glad to meet you here, 
 In this our Union Temperance Meeting — 
 
 You "wlio liave gathered far and near 
 
 With joyful hearts our good cause greeting. 
 
 Come up, we say, and join our ranks — 
 At home, abroad, all mischief noting, 
 
 And when rum-devils play their pranks, 
 Just quash their schemes by honest voting. 
 
 IRISH LOGIC. 
 
 ^OU'RE too late at your work, sir ! " said Mr. O'Neil, 
 ^ One day to his servant, " it isn't just right." 
 " By me faith, that is so ! " says Pat, " never yez mind, 
 I'll be lavin' ye airly enough, sure, to night." 
 
 Said Mr. ONeil, " that is not what you mean ; 
 You must work so much later to earn the same pay." 
 " Och ! " says Pat, " I will niver commit sich a trick, 
 To be making two lates for yez, both in one day." 
 
 IMPUDENCE 
 
 ^ j'^P 'OW strange the thought that men forget 
 
 That they from common dast were taken. 
 When by their looks and vulgar speech 
 'Tis plain to see they're not half shaken. 
 
 Why should a man put on fine airs, 
 And strut and gobble like a turkey— 
 
 And read his title clear to fame 
 
 When sharper eyes discern it murky. 
 
Tou'd think to see these fools parade, 
 
 That they'know all that s worth the knowing, 
 
 And when they die they'll take from earth 
 Hel" wisdom, to the place they're going. 
 
 It happened but the other day, 
 That a poor man, who lisps and stutters. 
 
 Was bluffed, and made to feel his lack 
 By one of these confounded strutters. 
 
 Our friend was stammering out his thought 
 When " Windy " to the circle drifted, 
 
 And bluntly said, " he wants to know 
 Why Balaam's ass with speech was gifted ? " 
 
 • 
 •' Fret not yourself," a wag replied, 
 
 " That question, sir, needs not to floor bim — 
 Old Balaam stuttered like himself. 
 And so the ass spoke out before him ! " 
 
 So when we see good sense put down, 
 Where bluster for sound learning passes, 
 
 We must conclude, as did our wag. 
 We've heard from one of Balaam's asses 1 
 
 NEWLY FLEDGED. 
 
 M? ENDEAVOR, so far as I'm able, 
 ^^ To encourage the true and the right : 
 To use due restraint at the table, 
 And be cheerful, and sunny and bright. 
 
 But, alas ! for poor, frail human nature. 
 It is fickle and faulty, no doubt : 
 
 And we seem to be bound in a fate sure, 
 That is destined to wheedle about. 
 
— 29 — 
 
 Alas ! for the curse of the passions, 
 Or rather the way they are used : 
 
 We follow the world and its fashions, 
 And thus our high nature's ahused. 
 
 Overcome, overcome, says the Spirit ! 
 
 By which we may fairly infer— 
 If not perfect, we may get so near it, 
 
 No lust will our progress deter. 
 
 LINES TO MY WIFE, 
 
 ^ THOUGHT of you , wife, as I climbed o'er the hills, 
 ^ And when I reclined by the murmuring streams: 
 And the thought of you, dearest, my bosom yet thrills, 
 By- day in sweet fancies, by night in soft dreams. 
 
 And when the fair hills have all vanished for aye, 
 And the music of brooklets no more greets the ear ; 
 
 On the pinions of love we will soar far away. 
 To be parted no more in Eternity's sphere. 
 
 'Tis a beautiful thought, and the dearest I know, 
 That another, whose love will not cease at the tomb, 
 
 Is with mc in spirit wherever I go. 
 
 In prosperity's glare, or advtrsity's gloom. 
 
 Sometimes in our iourney, the pitiless world- 
 Proud as Satan at heart, and as brainless as stone. 
 
 Has frowned on our course and anathemas hurled ; 
 But you've stood like the rock where the sea foam is thrown. 
 
 Sweet spirit of love, as I think of you now, 
 Far away from my presence, for life from my sight, 
 
 Tears of tender relief ease my pale, aching brow. 
 And I feel that an angel has stooped in his flight. 
 
-30 — 
 
 Like the carriage that bore me away from your side, 
 Words are merely rouo:h coaclies to carry our thought ; 
 
 So I'll now cease their use and leave you to decide 
 How I feel, by the feeling within your heart wrought. 
 
 ODE TO THE ST. LAWRENCE 
 
 r AJESTIC, mighty, most sublime 
 
 Of all the streams that enter ocean I 
 Twin sister of the tide of Time, 
 To dwell on thee, I've quite a notion. 
 
 All who have seen thy rolling waves, 
 Unless, perchance born in their hearing, 
 
 Have felt poetic thoughts arise, 
 And into noblest numbers steering. 
 
 So I, in deference to the rule : 
 Better be dead than out of fashion. 
 
 Will ponder— pummel all my powers — 
 And then, Pegasus-like, I'll dash on. 
 
 wary, wiusom, mystic Muse ! 
 
 Thy kindly face turned toward me ever ; 
 But anyhow, beam brightly now, 
 
 Lest I disgrace this rolling river. 
 
 A writer on Niagara Falls 
 
 Complained his head grew giddy thinking ; 
 Rich Tide, could he thy grandeur see. 
 
 He'd doubtless reel like he'd been drinking. 
 
 Thou hast Niagara in contempt ; 
 
 Your actions show you never knew her. 
 A giddy, girlish seamstress she, 
 
 Of all the lakes, thou art the sewer. 
 
— 31 — 
 
 A thousand crafts and numerous rafts 
 Thy bouncing bosom are bedecking ; 
 
 Rich, rocky reefs and waterfalls 
 Fond fellows' hearts are often wrecking. 
 
 But go thy way, thou fickle maid, 
 Thy former friends each hour forsaking. 
 
 One heart, at least, is ou thee staid, 
 Though not so fond of conquest making. 
 
 LINES ADDRESSED TO A MOUNTAIN. 
 
 i VAST, eternal realms of dirt, 
 With silken, silvery snows begirt ! 
 To outward view thou art sublime ; 
 Within, you scarce deserve my rhyme. 
 
 A whited sepulcher thou art ! 
 Bright to the view, but dead at heart. 
 The royal robes around thee furled 
 But hide sharp edges from the world. 
 
 Thy glories have all poets sung, 
 Their brains belabored, heartstrings rung, 
 That they might see and feel thy might. 
 Thy praise in noblest numbers write. 
 
 And thou art worthy of their meed ! 
 Beyond their dreams thou'rt great indeed ; 
 For thou hast grown exceeding high : 
 Thy soaring summits prop the sky. 
 
 But is there virtue, after all, 
 In having grown so mighty tall ? 
 Convenience, comfort wonld suggest 
 A broader and a lower crest. 
 
— 32 — 
 
 The eagle builds on thee his nest — 
 (A proud and ugly bird at best) : 
 Thou givest him a welcome home, 
 And all his friends who wish to come. 
 
 This kindly courtesy to friends 
 Will, for some coldness, make amends ; 
 So, in the breast of all mankind, 
 A tender place you'll always find. 
 
 You see, that after all, old friend, 
 I criticise with liberal end. 
 Thou'rt handled daintily so much, 
 Thou wilt enjoy this rougher touch. 
 
 As children, pampered, sent from home, 
 Abroad upon the earth to roam. 
 With rougher treatment, caustic cares, 
 Grow brave, and lose their pettish airs ; 
 
 So I intend this for thy good — 
 (I scarce could be in milder mood) ; 
 'Twill be thy gain to find some change 
 Of conduct in thy rustic range, 
 
 Good-by, Old Mountain, we must part ; 
 I will not fold thee to my heart 
 As some have done : 'twill not thee please- 
 Besides, it might my feelings freeze. 
 
 But I will leave thee to thy fate — 
 Admired, caressed by all the great ; 
 Assuring thee 'twill be a treat 
 A trusting, truthful friend to meet. 
 
 ODE TO THE SEA. 
 
 "^HE sea, the sea, the wonderful sea ! 
 
 •iJ A world of itself, in a musical glee : 
 Seizing the minds of the poets with awe, 
 Gorging poor wr(cks in its merciless maw ! 
 
Thou art, indeed, of superior worth : 
 Cleansing the atmosphere, watering tlie earth ; 
 Giving to conamerce its earliest seat — 
 Furnishing monsters dead sailors to eat. 
 
 Well did the poet say : " Chainless art thou ! " 
 None but the Master e'er calmed thy rough brow. 
 Thou art a monarch, of world-wide domain, 
 And thy bowels are full of tiie bones of thy slain. 
 
 Thou hast rich treasures of silver and gold 
 Hid in thy bosom, beyond man's control ; 
 Empires of wealth, sunk in watery strife — 
 Robbing mankind all the daj^s of thy life. 
 
 Commerce now flings h.r white sails o'er thy main ; 
 The sailor rejoices in freedom again ; 
 He's at home on his craft, and he blesses Old Nick, 
 While the landsman below deck is horribly sick.. 
 
 But a truce to this strain — I must bid you good bye, 
 For my thought wings its flight through the measureless sky 
 To a sea of pure crystal, whose waters shall roll 
 Through Eternity's sphere, in the home of the soul. 
 
 There the silvery tide of the River of Life, 
 Murmurs sweetly of rest from all discord and strife. 
 Never more shall the saints Time's dark avenues tread. 
 For the earth and the sea have disclosed all their dead. 
 
 Ah ! here is true grandeur and infinite might, 
 Gazed on by the blest with unwearied delight ; 
 'Tis too much. Fancy falters, it cannot remain, 
 It droops back to earlh and life's ocean again. 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF HAUY. 
 [Founder of Institutions for the Blind, Paris, 1780. 
 
 ''HOU great Apostle for the Blind, 
 
 (France never gave degree more apt") — 
 
 To thee 'twas given to bear the light 
 
 To souls in twofold darkness wrapped. 
 3 
 
— 34 — 
 
 Thy cause was one where noble work 
 j By stern abiding faith was led — 
 
 Which ofttimes took thy simple fare, 
 Nor aught of substance wrought instead. 
 
 The multitudes who, in hot haste. 
 The rugged road to honor run, 
 , Will, for a time, ignore all ease. 
 
 And press the battle till it's won. 
 
 But here was energy and will, 
 With heart from every lust refin d — 
 
 A sacrifice, eclipsed by none, 
 Save His, who died for all mankind. 
 
 A few years since, Columbia's land 
 Was jubilant with praise and mirth — 
 
 Loud rang the shouts for Washington, 
 Whose valiant arm gave Freedom birth. 
 
 'Twas well ! Had I a thousand tongues, 
 I'd tune them all to Freedom's lyre — 
 
 And when its noblest notes I struck. 
 
 Thy name, my song would most inspire. 
 
 Yes, thou wert mighty to redeem, 
 Not from a human tyrant's chain ; 
 
 But tyrant darkness, in whose grasp 
 The spirit fettered must remain. 
 
 Wherever now, upon our earth, 
 
 Philanthropists their rights proclaim, 
 
 Schools for the blind are grandly reared, 
 And thousands taught to bless thy name. 
 
 SONG OF THE WORKERS. 
 
 iZ^E are a royal Temperance Band, 
 By faith and works cemented — 
 Our object, is to rid the land 
 Of beverages fermented. 
 
— 35 — 
 
 The subtle serpent of the still 
 
 Had wreatlied his charms around us ; 
 
 But we have risen with a will 
 
 And burst the chains that bound us. 
 
 From our misfortunes we have learned, 
 Dear school (but good moreover) — 
 
 That we should leave no stone unturned, 
 Which vaay a serpent cover. 
 
 Our leaders watch the wily foe 
 
 With vigilant inspection : 
 Our power as temperance men we'll show 
 
 At town and state election. 
 
 We'll rally for the cause we love — 
 
 Let cowards prate and prattle ; 
 But our fair flag shall wave above 
 The smoke and din of battle. 
 
 WHEN I AM OLD. 
 
 ,}XifIi^EN I am old ! How brief the space 
 Between the wish, and its obtaining — 
 We scarce life's dusty road have sought, 
 Ere we the end are quickly gaining. 
 
 When I am old ! What shall it be ? 
 
 The joys of youth shall be a burden : 
 I'll lay aside earth's tinselry, 
 
 And press toward the heavenly guerdon. 
 
 When T am old ! How few can think 
 To make the needed preparation ; 
 
 They stand at once upon death's brink, 
 Beyond the reach of reparation. 
 
 When I am old ! Ah ! while I speak, 
 The murky mists of age surround me : 
 
 I'm going now, good-bye — I'm gone ! 
 Death's icy hand hath surely found me. 
 
-36- 
 
 WORK AND PRAY. 
 [Temperance Song.] 
 
 /^HERE'S nothing new in all around me: 
 '<J The same old routine still appears — 
 My habits fixed, in chains have bound me, 
 I seeai engulfed in doubts and fears. 
 
 Intemperance, like a fiend infernal, 
 Will dog my footsteps to the grave : 
 
 I've sought the aid of the Eternal, 
 Yet more for earthly spirits crave. 
 
 I'll summon all my powers, God-given, 
 To rise and strike one final blow : 
 
 Then, through my tears, I'll ask high Heaven, 
 To grant nepenthe from this woe. 
 
 'Tis done ! I feel my strength renewing — 
 God's power the serpent's head can bruise ; 
 
 Ho ! ye who stagger down to ruin, 
 Turn quickly back, nor help refuse. 
 
 SONG OF THE HEART. 
 
 •w^HY beauty and freshness, my darling, are faded, 
 -^O And silvery tresses encircle thy brow — 
 
 The step of thy youth-time life's journey has jaded, 
 And thy form, once so proud, shows infirmity now. 
 
 (CHORtrs).— But the heart of my darling is buoyant as ever, 
 
 Its beauty and graces have grown still more fair: 
 Its ties of affection naught earthly can sever— 
 Its truth and its virtue no age will impair. 
 
— 37 — 
 
 The prospects around us, were bright when we started, 
 Nor aught could we see that might e'er bring distress ; 
 
 But the prospects turned ti alter, our hopes proved false-hearted, 
 And failures oft came where all promised success. 
 
 (CHORrs). — But the heart, etc. 
 
 But the heavens above us were not always darkened — 
 Our palhway, though thorny, grew roses as well, 
 
 And sweet angel voices we heard as we hearkened, 
 In anthems the triumphs of glory they tell. 
 
 (CnoRUS). — So the heart, etc. 
 
 Then why be content with the world and its pleasures — 
 
 Its warmest affections too often turn cold : 
 The fond faithful heart is the richest of treasures. 
 
 Its love cannot change, and it never grows old. 
 
 (CnoEUS). — And the heart, etc. 
 
 THE VICTOR'S SONG. 
 
 ^^.TE hail wi'ih rejoicing our glad manumission 
 
 <^cJ From a power at whose shrine we have shamelessly knelt, 
 Unlike other serfdoms, our own choice of action, 
 And a bondage, that body and soul both have felt. 
 
 King Alcohol may be the proudest of monarchs. 
 But his pride is the pride of the angel that fell. 
 
 A selfishness, glutting itself on man's ruin ; 
 Denounced by the scriptures and reason as well. 
 
 But the God who created us gave to us talents, 
 And designed us while here all these powers to engage; 
 
 We're to foster the right and to drive out the evil — 
 And drunkenness now is the crime of the age. 
 
-38- 
 
 Then come to the rescue, ye brave and true-hearted, 
 Demolish this traflQc of death and the grave. 
 
 We'll use moral suasion, and strong legislation, 
 Till the flag of our freedom shall everywhere wave. 
 
 ON THE TRAIN. 
 
 ^^ORTHROP, I am on the train— 
 -cJ ^ 'Tis a grand excursion day — 
 If I had a bit of brain, 
 I'd take notes along the way. 
 
 But my brain, alas, has left me. 
 Like the hopes of by-goue years; 
 
 Hopes that smiled ere they bereft me, 
 Turning joyousness to tears. 
 
 Oh, the dreary, weary sadness 
 Of a heart that's forced to drink 
 
 From a cvip o'erflown with madness, 
 Of a brain that cannot think. 
 
 Scarce alive, yet wildly dreaming 
 Of a still more direful state, 
 
 When, with dissolution teeming, 
 Every part shall meet its fate. 
 
 Thus I sit, and sigh, and wonder. 
 As I've done for many a year, 
 
 When I hear a voice of thunder 
 Shouting "Tickets," in my ear. 
 
 THE DEVIL OUTDONE. 
 
 ^TVyTrY fancy, in a midnight revel, 
 ~^j^ Her pinions plumed to see the Devil 1 
 She found him well, to say the least, 
 But not a horrid, skulking beast. 
 
— 39 — 
 
 As some have said ; but rather he 
 Was armed with might and majesty — 
 An angel wiih prodigious wing, 
 And visage rare, though somewliat marred 
 By that strange flight, which, poets sing, 
 Occurred when he and Michael warred. 
 .His eye intelligence expressed, 
 And deep resolve yet did not rest 
 In fixedness, or vacant stare, 
 As often studious students wea" '. 
 "But wandi^red ever, as intent 
 On some new scheme of mischief bent. 
 Sometimes he frowned in subtle rage 
 That made Ih? realms of darkness lower, 
 And chilled with awe the fiends that wage 
 With him the strife for murderous power. 
 Again, as if in cheery mood, 
 If aught can cheer nhere naught is good, 
 He looked with seeming of delight 
 To a subversion of the right — 
 A present triumph of his cause 
 Against the Alhvise Sovereign's laws : 
 Advantage slight, vouchsafed, no doubt, 
 By the Supreme, to make the rout 
 Of pride and falsehood, from the field. 
 The greater. When the e foes shall yield, 
 As yield they must, all in their train — 
 Those who rebel and foster wrong. 
 " Truth crushed to earth shall rise again ! " 
 A truthful maxim shiiU remain, 
 Though uttered in a poet's song. 
 Thus sat the Devil on his throne, 
 By centuries of practice grovvn 
 So cunning in his various arts 
 Of base deception, that all hearts 
 Would be deceived and led astray, 
 But for the peaceful, potent sway 
 Of gracious Truth, and her compeer, 
 That modest maid of heavenly birth — 
 Sweet Virtue, who, though loved on earth. 
 
— 40 — 
 
 Adiniieil and praised, both far and near, 
 Is more esteemed than chosen here ! 
 Around, in grani imperial state, 
 Were gathered prince and potentate, 
 As if in secret conclave met : 
 Their armor all with jewels set — 
 That dazzled in the distant view, 
 But, nearer, wore a brazen hue, 
 Or brassy, like their sovereign lord ! 
 I've seen the s ime, upon m.y word. 
 Reflected in the human race. 
 Take any politician's face, 
 Who's striving for a chosen place ; 
 Or sometimes, too, religious men — 
 Those Avho can shout, and say " Amen 1 " 
 The loudest, and most fondly speak : 
 Have much of gilt in heart and cheek — 
 To prove the truth of what I say, 
 Just pass collection plates their way. 
 But what within that realm befell, 
 On this occasion, none can tell. 
 At least, all keep the secret well. 
 'Tis said that spirits can commune, 
 Mind unto mind, without a word. 
 And so, perforce, I little heard ; 
 But this I learned, that 'tis absurd, 
 To deem these beings out of tu ue 
 As some declare, and full of strife. 
 Among themselves. In human life 
 We have more tumult far than they — 
 A caucus or town-meeting day : 
 A great convention — better yet, 
 Beligious circles, when they've niet 
 To do church business, or to set 
 Old difficulties into shape, 
 Such stubborn scenes no imps 'could ape. 
 Of course I'm not commending devils. 
 But 'tis my wish to banish evils. 
 I take this way to point them out, 
 In hope reform will come about. 
 
— 41 — 
 THE DEVIL AHEAD. 
 
 ^T^-f^E pull, or drift upon the tide— 
 ^'^^ The oar that droops will find its side 
 
 Has lost momentum, and will be 
 
 In rearage through eternity. 
 
 He who created-us designed 
 
 That every faculty of mind 
 
 And soul shodld have its proper play, 
 
 And constant progress maik each day. 
 
 A garden, is the youthful breast, 
 Where germs of loftiest beauty rest, 
 And from whose quick'ning soil may rise 
 The fruitage of a Paradise. 
 
 But while this gradual growth succeeds, 
 Eternal vigilance it needs, 
 Lest he who sows the seeds of death 
 Shall enter with his blighting breath. 
 
 "When churches for vacation close. 
 To give the pastor some repose, 
 The Devil, with a grin, relates 
 That he vacation never takes 
 
 AFTER ELECTION. 
 
 WHAT has become of the clamor and din, 
 
 The political lightning and thunder, 
 That flashed from the pen, and brayed loud from the throat 
 
 Of the old and the young— ^2/*"^ Wonder. 
 
 Blowi;! away! Both the faithful and faithless have done, 
 
 The newspapers everywhere show it. 
 Tlie pen of the " croaker " has had its last run. 
 And the "stump speaker" heard his last "go-it." 
 
— 42 — 
 
 The last word of welcome has gone from the lip 
 Of the man who "stood treat" till election, 
 
 And with it, the smile and warm grasji of the hand, 
 And the nod of fraternal affection. 
 
 They tugged, till they stirred up a sulphurous mess, 
 Their kettles and schemes were stupendous. 
 
 The man in the moon, as he rode o'er our land, 
 Held Lis nose, for the ste. ch was tremendous. 
 
 The day of election has come, and just gone, 
 
 All trials of party surmounted. 
 Unless we're marched back, as in " Seventy-six," 
 
 To a "judicial" Board to he counted. 
 
 THE BLUES. 
 
 CFTER hours of tiresome walking 
 sO'er a rough and dusty highway, 
 Through a boiling, blistering sunshine. 
 Here I rest my weary body; 
 Glad to find a hearty welcome. 
 Would my heart, so sad and lonely, 
 Could find resting like my body; 
 But 'tis drifting, ever drifting. 
 Like a ship without an anchor 
 At the mercy of the Ocean. 
 Now a fair breeze lulls its pinions, 
 Then a whirlwind flings it starward- 
 'Till it loses all its bearings 
 And, for want of chart or compass, 
 Founders in the hungi-y billows. 
 Would some guiding star might greet me, 
 Just one gleam, from out tiie gloaming. 
 Wavering on my darkening pathway, 
 'Till I find a firmer footing. 
 Now and then a welcome riftin<r 
 
— 43 — 
 
 In the blackened heavens above me. 
 
 Ami the smile of Him wlio loves me 
 
 Glances through Ihc awful awning; 
 
 Then 'tis hid, and darkness cometh, 
 
 Wild as chaos, where blind Milton 
 
 Saw the Devil stretch his pinions. 
 
 Once the joys of faith upheld me 
 
 Drinking deeply from its fountain 
 
 Draughts that filled my soul with gladness, 
 
 Leaving room for naught that's fearful. 
 
 But those days of consolation, 
 
 (Like the hopes tliat cheered my youthtime 
 
 Smiling sweetly ere they left me 
 
 Making absence, still more empty.) 
 
 All are numbered with the bygones, 
 
 Just the reason of such trials. 
 
 Why this threefold woe, and darkness, 
 
 Crushing spirit, soul and body, 
 
 I may learn in the hereafter. 
 
 WHY SHOULD WE FRET. 
 
 WHY should we fret if the world does nt go 
 In our most approved way, is too fast, or too slow, 
 If it pay its obeisance to neighbors next door, 
 And pass us in silence because we are poor. 
 
 Chorus.— O why should we fret, it will ne'er bring us station, 
 Nor change us one whit in our social relation, 
 Let us drive out the blues, and with merriment fill us, 
 For we'll live till we die if our freting don't kill us. 
 
 Suppose you're in debt, and ai'e anxious to pay, 
 You have tugged at your engine by night and by day. 
 But you find you're behind when your schedule is due. 
 Let your passenger fret, he's as able as you. 
 
 Chorus— O why should we fret, &c. 
 
— 44 — 
 
 In short never trj^ any trouble to meet. 
 
 But let it cross over to your side tlie street. 
 
 If adversity comes, or a panic prevails, 
 
 Just put on the steam, and throw sand on the rails. 
 
 Chorus — O •nhy should we fret, &c. 
 
 TO H. I. BURR, ESQ. 
 
 ^lM?OW I wish, my dear Squire, in the midst of our hurry, 
 ^-t-^ TVe could sit down a while to an old-fashioned t^dk. 
 Worse than useless it is, all this flutter and flurry, 
 This running and jumping, wlien booked for a walk. 
 
 We have hurried and scurried, till your head is well sprinkled 
 
 With silveiy down, where the raven once sat; 
 And my visage, dear Squire, is most woefully wrinkled. 
 
 And to tell you the truth — lie — truth — '.ie — I'm as gray as a rat. 
 
 We have trudged like old veterans, haven't we, Squire ? 
 
 Every phantom that rose we were quick to pursue it; 
 But alas ! when brought down, there was naught to admire, 
 
 So we'll take a short breath — yes — no — yes — no we never will do it. 
 
 IDEAL MANHOOD. 
 
 WHERE is the man that is honest and true. 
 With reason and judgment and charity giffed, 
 
 Who can face adverse winds sailing billowy seas, 
 Or complacently drift till the storm cloud is rifted. 
 
— 45 — 
 
 Still more, when prosperity lights up his sky , 
 And rainbows his future with unnumbered splendors, 
 
 Will not, in its glare, stretch unnatural wing, 
 And droop by the strain which his rashness engenders. 
 
 'Twas this sort of man that Diogenes souglit, 
 With lantern, at mid-day! through streets of his city, 
 
 Of mind justly balanced 'twixt passion and thought, 
 Stern for justice and truth, blent with mercy and pity. 
 
 But Diogenes traveled in vain for such boon, 
 No man, in this sense of»the word, could he find, 
 
 And 'tis said by the sages, that not very soon, 
 Will this wonder appear in the ranks of mankind. 
 
 •4^^- 
 
 BYGONES. 
 
 ^I^ET bygones be bygones, I say; 
 ■75:^ Why live over December in May, 
 
 And shiver and freeze through its storms — 
 
 Cheer up and be merry and warm. 
 
 Chorus. — Doa't stand very long to reflect. 
 Pass on and do better; 'tis clear 
 Inaction can never protect 
 You from danger that lurks in your rear. 
 
 Just look at one instance, I pray. 
 Of mishaps that occur by delay. 
 Where a woman this maxim forgot 
 And was salted therefor on the spot. 
 
 Chorus. — Don't stand, etc. 
 
-46- 
 
 In the light of the past we may learn 
 
 Our future to shape and discern, 
 
 Its breakers and shoals, yet 'tis sin 
 
 To waste time over what might have been. 
 
 Chorus. — Don't stand, etc. 
 
 HEAVEN". 
 
 ,^AfPNEXPRESSIBLY sweet, to the wayworn and weary, 
 ^ Is the. thought, that release from life's cares will be given, 
 That beyond this strange blending of joy and of sadness, 
 Is a blessed retreat, we delight to call heaven. 
 
 There are flowers on earth of the rarest perfume, 
 And landscapes that beckon us joyfully on; 
 
 But ere you step in to their delicate maze 
 Their beauty, and freshness are withered and gone. 
 
 The wisest and best have all suffered this feeling, 
 No balm could be found that afforded relief; 
 
 E'en that prophet, and teacher, the God man and Savior. 
 Was burdened with sorrow, acquainted with grief. 
 
 The laws of his nature he no doubt regarded, 
 And his faculties must have been free from disease. 
 
 And never intending to wrong any other, 
 No remorse for such conduct his conscience could seize. 
 
 Yet, with all his perfections, and freedom from ailments, 
 Our Lord was not charmed with this life or its pleasures; 
 
 "While engaged in his mission he constantly pointed 
 His hearers above, as the place of their treasures. 
 
— 47 — 
 
 The eye of the human ne'er saw a view like it, 
 Nor hath it yet entered man's lieart to conceive, 
 
 Of the transcendi-'nt glories and infinite pleasures, 
 Awaiting the faithful and those who believe. 
 
 In visions the prophets have caught a few glimpses: 
 A city whose splendor no earthly has known, 
 
 With rich pearly gates and with bright golden pavements- 
 A sea of pure crystal, a gliUering throne. 
 
 In the midst is a ti'ee with fair fruitage immortal, 
 Its leaves for the healing of nations designed; 
 
 No sickness, nor sorrow can enter those mansions. 
 And evils that hav^e been, are ne'er brought to mind. 
 
 The staff of the pilgrim, the lame, and the aged. 
 Will be all laid aside, and their need never come; 
 
 Blind eyes will be opened, the deaf mutes shout praises, 
 And all will rejoice when we reach that blest home. 
 
 No more the black banner of error and falsehood. 
 Shall wave its dread folds o'er a sin-stricken world; 
 
 But the standard of trutli shall be everywhere planted, 
 And wisdom and peace to the breezes unfurled. 
 
 The sneer of the scoffer, the smile of the villain, 
 And the cant of the hypocrite, all are unknown; 
 
 Moral worth is adjudged the true measure of manhood, 
 And the "beggar of earth there a kingdom may own. 
 
 Friends parted in tears will be met there forever. 
 And all shall strike hands with a hearty good will; 
 
 Not a sigh will be heard, not a tear drop shall glisten, 
 But one grand song of triumph the welkin shall fill. 
 
 To .this end, friendly reader, I trust we are hasting. 
 Though desiring, of course, each his portion to live; 
 
 With a kindly farewell, I will lay down my pencil, 
 In hope brighter measures the future may give. 
 
J^'d 
 
 —48- 
 
 REFERENCES AND ADDRESS. 
 
 Trimsharp's Account of Himself; 
 
 Or, memoir of H. A. FULLER, The Blind Lecturer. 
 
 This book cent lins an account of the author's early life and misfor- 
 tune. His experience of four years in the Institution for the Blind, 
 New York oily ; a history of the Ins.itutions for the Blind, and the 
 methods of instruction adopted by the n ; a sketch of his three years' 
 course of study in Hillsdale College, Michigan, and the way he studied 
 while there ; his experience in the lecture field ; a numb, r of poems 
 composed by him while on his lecture tours, and several engravings. 
 12 mo. Nicely bound iu cloth, price $1.00. 
 
 NOTICE TO THE PUBLIC. 
 
 As I have been requested by Mr. Downev, who has had the charge 
 of getting out the first edition of " Triinsh:irp's Account of Himself" 
 (he knowing that I had read the whole work), to express my opinion of 
 its merits, \ most cheerfully comply wiLh his request by saying that I 
 have found the historical pari to be exceedingly well written, giving 
 many incidents in his own life, as well as in the lives of several others 
 who, like himself, were deprived of the blessing of sight, that will be 
 found interesting to the general reader ; and I am also satisfied that his 
 poems indicate such au adaption of mind to that branch of writing, that 
 it will be well for him to give it his particular attention. And I am will- 
 ing to risk my reputation as a jiidfje of the wants of the people, by saying 
 that I have not a doubt of his meeting with great success in thus offering 
 these reminiscences to an appreciative public. 
 
 A. W. CHASE, M. D., 
 
 Prest. and Supt. of the Ann Arbor Printing and Publi>-hing Com- 
 pany, author of "Dr. Chase's Recipes; or, Information for Everybody," 
 and " Dr. Chase's Family Physician, Farrier, Bee-keeper, and Second 
 Receipt Book." 
 
 From the Commercial Advertiser, Norwood. N. Y. :-—" Trimsharp's 
 Account of Himself," embraces a sketch of his life, and a recital of 
 the difficulties that he surmounted in securing an education, together 
 with a brief history of the education of the blind and their achieve- 
 ments, and a collection of beautiful poems. It will be perused with 
 interest and profit by all who are fortanate enough to secure a copy. * * 
 
 * * Mr. H. A. Fuller delivered his lecture on temperance Sabbath 
 evening to a large and attentive audience at the Methodist church. He 
 handled his subject in an able manner, speaking rapidly and holding 
 the close attention of his hearers. His appeals to manhood and reason 
 were very strongly put and had far greater force for conviction than 
 the usual hackneyed stories told for momentary efi'ect. * * * 
 
 * * * "Brother Fuller is a man of great energy and perseverance, 
 giving temperance, scientific, and literary lectures. We commend 
 Brother Fuller and his book to all our readers."— T/ic Citizen, Moravia. 
 
 All communications addressed to 
 
 H. A. FULLER, Lecturer, 
 
 Hillsdale, Micnigant 
 
 Mr. Harvey A. Fuller, the Blind Lecturer, is publisliing an edition of his poems, " Stray- 
 Leaves." His writings are characterized by purity of style and sentiment, are elevating in 
 their influence, and the reader cannot but feel that there is in them a generous fund of 
 wholesome thought. They will be sent to any address, postpaid, for 25 cents. Address 
 HARVEY A. FULLER, Hillsdale, Uich.— Hillsdale Business. 
 
 W £3 
 
v^^-\/* V'"^'^'*/ \''-^\/ %''-■' 
 v'^^v^ \J'^^'\/^ '^V^'^^V \.'^^ 
 
 
 
 4> .-'''- 
 
.n^ 
 
 
 
 
 r-^^. 
 
 
 
 r. ^^ .* .*^%^^^ -^Z /Jfe-, *^^^^^ ;;^f^^„ •% 
 
 
 
 
 
 .^^ .. 
 
 ^o. 
 
 
 o (. •■ ^ 
 
 V » ' •. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ' *i:^* 
 
 * *■ ' <\i 
 
 
 
SHliaaaiaiHiHJiffiK