r /^?!Wt :rf*V. <>^^^-4R\^ / X,. ^\<'\ iW.cZy // *,/ Winnowed Grasses BY JOSEPH SAMUEL REED H THIRD EDITION PRINTED BY THE HOLLENBECK PRESS INDIANAPOLIS Copyright, 1S02, By JOSEPH S. REED. PS 26^2. TO MY MOTHER WHOSE LOVE AND SYMPATHY HAVE LENT INSPIRATION FROM MY EARLIEST REMEMBRANCE - WHOSE EVER-WILLING EAR HAS WEARIED NOT AT MY SIMPLE RHYME; WHOSE WORDS OF ENCOURAGEMENT HAVE DONE MUCH IN THE FURTHERANCE OF THIS WORK, THIS LITTLE BOOK OF VERSE IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED By The Authoj?. (iii> CONTENTS. PAGE The Journey of Life * A Christmas Id} 1 4 Draw the Line at That i4 A Race for a Bride i^ A Child of Nature 23 Spring on the Farm 2^ Origin of Santa Claus 27 Thos. A. Hcndrictcs 3^ Home 34 Duffey's Valentine 3*^ The Story of the Good Samaritan 42 The Soldier's Farewell 47 Memorial Day 49 A Preacher from Texas • 55 Torrid Weather 58 The Opera Bonnet ^^ HOOSIER DIALECT. How Aunt Marier Spent the Holidays 65 Uncle Josh at a Christmas Tree 75 Stirrin' Off So October • ^3 November ^5 Blind Prejudice ^9 SOCIETY AND ANNIVERSARY. Deserted Eagle Lake Hotel 97 Lines to an Oid Fellow's Table 105 (v) vi CONTENTS. PAGE. Canton Thompson at Chicago io8 Friendship, Love and Truth 115 To Major W. C. Griffith 118 To J. B. Patton and Wife 124 Lines to J. L. S 128 EPIGRAMMATIC. Stage Deception 133 Mistaken Identity. , 134 Premonitions 135 None Perfect. No, Not One 138 Prohibition 140 Sympathy From Below 141 Her Confession 143 The Awful Secret 144 His Regrets 145 Absent-Minded, Very 146 ThingfS We May Forget 148 My Resolution 149 A Train Incident 150 THE JOURNEY OF LIFE. Through life's eventful journey all must pass, 'T is so decreed, each for himself. Alas! How sad the thought, 'tis He alone can tell How endeth each, in heaven or in hell. Life's journey 's made with blinded eyes, But for our good, that we be not too wise. Ethereal things are meant beyond our ken; Our province then should be on earth, but men- Seek not to fly before thy wings are given. For men are angels only v/hen in heaven. A station high or low we each must fill. Depending much upon the actor's will; Whether arduous or easy be the task, Ourselves quite early must this question ask. Determined once, the battle 's almost won; But hesitate, the battle 's just begun. Life's rugged path is narrow alike for all, No favored few, but all that err must fall. The path 's beset v/ith danger all the way, To tempt the pilgrim almost ev'ry day. hi childhood's morn the journey easy seems. And glides along with constant, pleasant dreams; (I) THE JOURNEY OF LIFE. All joy, no sorrow mars its perfect bliss, Would it might remain in such a path as this. But no; alas! Temptation trammels youth; Joy yields to sorrow ; falsehoods banish truth. Such seems to be our mission, by Omniscience planned — To fight life's battle bravely, tho' be it hand to hand. In manhood's prime, the task is doubly great, To curb the passions, not be led by fate; Tho' in subjection, in us ambitions rise. To wealth, distinction, power, look with eager eyes. Conflict and carnage in some a great desire; Vain pomp and glory others most admire. Intemperance, sensuality, are others' goal (No surer path on earth to lose the soul). The flatterer's tongue, the subtlest of all, We stop to listen, then heed, then fall. No siren's song, however sweetly sung, Is more alluring than the flatterer's tongue. Isiviting seems this spot to turn aside ; 'T is hard to check our passions and our pride. Here revelry and lust are holding sway, Hov/ many thousands stop here by the way; These gilded halls and palaces so grand. For such as these are found on ev'ry hand, THE JOURNEY OF LIFE. To lure the weak and vain from virtue's ways ; Thus fallen once, they here eke out their days ; They doubtless think, we '11 but a moment learn, Yet countless souls to virtue ne'er return. Just in proportion to our vices' sv/ay, Tliat far we 've wandered from the narrow way. When hoary locks bedeck our aged head, 'T is then life's journey we '11 v/ith pleasure tread. The path, though narrov/, 'twill be strangely fair, Obstructions once to us, will be no snare ; Vices, we '11 pass with unyielding grace ; The virtues, we '11 enjoy them, face to face. And onward press, with duty's banner high ; Reward is ours, if we on Him rely. The lesson taught can not be measured here, Altho' obsei-vant be our heart and ear. Give alms to those in want, relieve their cares, For angels we may entertain then unawares. The decalogue to follow all who may ; The golden rule keep sacred every day ; Accounting well for talents God has given, Our duty do, and leave the rest to heaven. A CHRISTMAS IDYL. On Christmas eve, long years ago, An old tradition tells, The ground was covered o'er with snow. The sleighs were gliding to and fro, As mer'ly chimed the bells. 'Twas in an eastern city laid, A widow in her cottage near. Her children in the door-yard played, Tho'. chill the evening they delayed With not a dream of fear. The eldest, Ralph, her only son, A lad of twelve, and fair ; The daughter, Mina, full of fun. Her voice a rare and charming one That none with hers compare. A stranger sudden drew his rein, And cast his robes aside. And in a tone of kindest strain, This invitation to the tv/ain, " Come take a little ride." (4) A CHRISTMAS IDYL. 'T was but a moment's brief delay To join their new found friend ; They sprang into the open sleigh, And soon were speeding on their way, Unmindful of the end. The stranger on his horses prest, And spoke no word of cheer, Sped on and onward to the west, At length he halted for a rest Out in the woodland drear. Producing now a purse of gold, Thus spoke he to the lad : "May this increase an hundred fold Before your mother waxes old, And make her poor heart glad. I 've tried in vain this child to get, To cultivate her voice ; I vow it shall be famous yet, Her brow set with a coronet By the people as their choice. " Go, quickly to your mother tell What you 've seen and heard to-day ; No harm to Mina has befell, I swear to keep her safe and well : " Go ! we will go our way." A CHRISTMAS IDYL. Ralph hastened to his mother's side And told his awful tale ; They felt 't were better she had died ; With breaking hearts they cried and cried, The neighbors heard their wail, And when the awful truth was learned They searched the country round ; Tho' every one detective turned. Left not a single stone unturned, No Mina could be found. For days and days the widow's grief Was as her child were dead ; At length a letter came ; tho' brief, The tidings gave her some relief, And thus the letter read : "Europe" (was the broad address) " My dearest Mistress Gray : Deem not my act a lav/lessness, My heart has bled in your distress, Since your Mina went away. Her voice, a diamond in the rough, You may recall my notes, no doubt, *T was then regarded as a puff. Your means, I learned, were not enough. To bring the luster out. A CHRISTMAS IDYL. ' This my sole purpose, thought and aim, To guard this tender vine, Till all in praises speak her name ; And written on the scroll of fame. The glory all is thine. Rejoice with me for Mina, then. Who is now reconciled ; Tho' henceforth silent be our pen, Adieu till her fruition, when You may reclaim your child." [A lapse of ten years.'] Ralph now to man's estate had grown, So handsome, brave and stout ; Tho' ten long years at last had flown, His absent sister still unknown, He yet would seek her out. Gold fever now was raging high. And Ralph escaped it not; To make his fortune he would try, And bidding her a sad good-bye, He left his mother's cot A CHRISTMAS IDYL. Fortune smiled upon her son, His claim was richest ore ; E'en before two years were done, He far exceeded every one, How could he ask for more? His riches ample, now his heart Toward home and mother turned ; They ne'er had been so long apart; As the day approached for him to start. His heart more keenly yearned. He stopped at 'Frisco for a day, To purchase sundry things, And while he wandered aimlessly, He saw this placard frequently : *' To-night Miss Almie sings.'' Night had come, the day was spent, The crowd surged left and right. Our hero wondered what it meant, And asked his neighbor, whither bent? "Miss Aimie sings to-night." Once in the meshes of the throng. Our hero naught could do, But join the votaries of song, ^ That to his nature did belong, He could enjoy it, too= A CHRISTMAS IDYL. Midst great applause the curtain rose, The opera, in Italian sung ; Miss Aimie more in favor grows, And yet her singing did disclose, 'T was not her mother tongue. So oft recalled, at last she sung A song she learned when but a child ; Her voice in sweetest cadence rung, No string within her soul unstrung, The people all went wild, And failed to see our hero go Behind the scene as song was thro'; They therefore could not see him throw His arms around her ; you m.ust know 'T v/as Mina, and she knew him, too. I'll not describe this meeting more; They did not sleep, suffice to say. Thro' all the night, but talked it o'er. Decided 't was her last encore. And started home next day. They felt 'twould be indeed unwise To meet their mother so abrupt ; They thought to lessen her surprise, They 'd don a mendicant's disguise. And beg bread as she supped. 10 A CHRISTMAS IDYL. 'T was Christmas eve, the widow's light Illumed the way to passers by ; The fire burned on the hearthstone bright, The room was tidy set aright. As with a practiced eye. A knock was heard upon the door, The lonely widow bade them "come ; " Two strangers meekly did implore A crust of bread, they asked no more • They had no friends or home. The widow gave them what she had, Her eyes with tear-drops shone ; " I have a cause for feeling sad. And yet to give, it makes me glad ; I 've children of my own Out on the world, some other hand May give to them, as I to you. My Mina 's in a foreign land, And Ralph is o'er the prairies grand,— They were my only two. " They both were with me all this day. Just twelve long years ago ; A stranger in a handsome sleigh Enticed my little girl away — We '11 meet no more, 1 know. A CHRISTMAS IDYL. Ii Two years ago my Ralph went west, His fortune for to earn ; A kiss upon my cheek he pressed, Said, * Mother I will do my best To hasten my return.' " How very sad your lot must be. Your tear-drops can not hide, Your garments thin and worn I see, I want you both to bide with me, Until the Christmas tide." Soon Mina did control herself, And bid her tears be dry ; Espied her doll upon the shelf. And very soon embraced the elf, And sung a lullaby. It was the one Ralph heard her sing In 'Frisco on that night ; It could but sweetest mem'ries bring; No mortal heard such warbling. E'en angels 'twould invite; Now softest cadence, now more strong. The enchantment was complete. " That used to be my Mina's song. None other could this voice belong," And fell at Mina's feet. 12 A CHRISTMAS IDYL. No actor quicker off disguise Their garments silver sheen ; Imagine Mrs. Gray's surprise, There stood before her very eyes, A charming king and queen, Who condescended then to shower Their blessings so profuse ; Informed her of her wond'rous dower,. Embraced her, too, for full an hour. Before they let her loose. ' I want to tell you of the one Who took me o'er the sea ; 'T was for my good that it was done,. No kinder heart beneath the sun Than his has been to me. Tho' I may never more appear In public, as of yore, I '11 hold my benefactor dear. And only wish that he were here, You 'd like him all the more." Her mother felt these words were true j: 'T was a blessing not disgrace ; Altho' the audience were but two, Bade Mina sing an opera thro' From tenor down to bass. A CHRISTMAS IDYL. 13 She sang as never e'en before, Her soul without alloy ; Her voice brought neighbors to the door, — 'T was not, indeed, her last encore. They shared her mother's joy. For now had dawned sweet Christmas day,, The neighbors spread a feast In their abode, and happily They passed the great event away. To the principals, at least. Two years have passed ; their little home Is very pleasant, you '11 allow ; The children never more did roam, The stranger to them now is come, For he 's their father now. DRAW THE LINE AT THAT. If you 've loaned a friend a " Fiver,' And you think liim all correct, Yet it 's longer in returning Than you really could expect, Should he come again to borrow, Though your purse be rolling fat, I would venture this suggestion, " Better draw the line at that." If, perchance, you 're in a quarrel, And resort to fistic blows, Do not boo-hoo like a baby When he hits you on the nose ; Boldly stand your ground, young fellow, Stay until he knocks you flat. Then, if my advice is needed, " Better draw the line at that." Just suppose you 've been a-fishing. Patiently from morn 'til night, Tho' you 've tempting lively minnows, Not as yet a single bite ; - (14) DR/ilV THE LINE AT THAT. 15 All at once your cork goes under, Out of sight as quick as " scat," I should think that you were foolish Not to " draw the line at that." Then suppose you 're out a-sleighing, With your lady friend at night. And your horse, becoming frightened, Starts to run with all his might ; Altho' your hands are both engaged (In holding on your hat), The safest thing is let her go. And " draw the line at that." A RACE FOR A BRIDE. AN ENGLISH LEGEND. In olden times when knight errantry was young, Brave Briton's sons for gallant deeds were sung; Great dangers braved almost at any cost, Their chivalry was shown, no matter what was lost. Such times as these was when this legend, true. Occurred, 't is said, and I will tell it you. In a dungeon old in Briton's oldest town An aged man, and once of some renown. In shackles stood with hair as white as snow. He mimic rides with body to and fro ; The reins in fancy grasped, phantom whip applied. Thus for fifty years he has not ceased to ride. No crime had done, but reason all had flown ; Tho' great the cause, as by the legend shown. A baron rich who was of wife bereft. No son had he, an only daughter left. Of beauty rare to womanhood had grown. Two suitors had, that sought her hand to own. Egbert B., an artist poor, yet true. She much preferred, as well her father knew. (i6) A RACE FOR A BRIDE. 17 Gilbert C, a lord of noble birth, Her father's choice, yet not of sterling worth. Her father plead, resorted to abuse, Made direst threats, but 't was not any use ; His last resort, a compromise was made, He called them up as in a dress parade ; Thus spoke he them in terms of stern command ; " He must a horseman prove, that wins Clemanthe's hand. It was my wish, 't is still my great desire. My daughter's spouse should horsemanship admire ; For money lack I not, 't is my ambition's pride My future son-in-law shall with distinction ride ; From Kennet's ivied tower bring thou an ivy vine. Upon my daughter's brow an ivy wreath entwine ; Five dykes shall cross and recross, making ten ; A test like this will prove that ye are men. The soonest back, upon my royal life, Shall claim her hand, and she shall be his wife. Go thou at once, and each a steed procure, Fleetest of limb and hardship to endure ; Seek out the ones that can long distance run. Twelve days report upon the rising sun." Both bowing low, they hastened to depart, Tho' troubled looked, yet each a hopeful heart. i8 A RACE FOR A BRIDE. They searched the turf wherever speed was shown, They sought the marts, and ev'ry jockey known • Succeeding now as in their judgment best. Must bide the time until the fmal test. Sad, sad, indeed, those twelve long days were spent; Clemanthe plead in vain her father to relent. His purpose fixed he would not brook dismay. But eager watched he for the fatal day. " How can I aid my Egbert in his task? " Incessantly she would herself this question ask. " I have it, yes, I will the wizard try; I must, and will save Egbert, or I die." Softly she rose while stars were shining bright. The wizard sought by Luna's silvery light. And told him all, her father's cruel whim. Of Egbert spoke, her wondrous love for him. " O, sir ! " she pleads, " I seek you now for aid, Assist me, sir, you shall be richly paid." The wizard's brain was cudgled for a while. At length he sprang up quickly with a smile Brought some herbs, and these directions gave : " Thou follow these, if Egbert thou wouldst save. This potion give to Egbert's rival's steed; To Egbert's this — be careful that you heed, A RACE FOR A BRIDE. 19 Observing this, the potions must be given Just at the hour the clock is striking seven, For one 's a poison and 'twill work its end ; Adieu, my friend, and may good luck attend." With joy she left the wizard's lonely cave. Now feeling sure she could her lover save. Her coachman sought she now with bated breath. Instruction gave, 't was simply life or death. She sought her room, yet not to sleep or rest, For on the morrow comes the dreadful test. At early morn she rose and dressed with care; In satin gown and white, with blossom'd hair. Her fairy form, her nymph-like mien and grace Contrasted strangely with her sad sweet face. The hour had come, with rivals each a groom, With whip in hand and ready for their doom. The baron smiled and said with much concern : ' Avaunt, my lads, and may you soon return." They touched their caps and wheeling to the right Applied their spurs and soon were out of sight. We follow them in fancy ; on they speed, Now neck and neck, now Gilbert in the lead. The course is lined by crowds on either side, To watch the novel way of winning bride. Here shouts go up for Egbert as they pass, Now Gilbert's better chance for winning lass. 20 A RACE FOR A BRIDE. They cross the dykes, how difficult the breach ! The end is near, the tower soon will reach. Here they come with chargers all a-foam. Now faced about and started back for home ; Tho' slower speed, 'twas yet surprising fast, The wonder was their enduring power should last So matched the steeds they being one in strength, Yet one must win, if but a finger length. Determined now, each face so plainly shown. That Fate must choose the one and Fate alone. Still flying on until four dykes have passed, Now side by side and coming to the last. Gilbert's steed here checked and pawed the ground But Egbert's steed o'er leaped it with a bound ; Just at the instant o'er the dyke had sped. He rearing, plunging, falling headlong dead ; The rider leaped, yet no dismay did show. But onward ran, he 'd but a league to go. Now looking back, his rival nearer come, Yet feared he naught for he was almost home. The gate is reached, he now stands by her side. The wreath entwines and clasps his willing bride. How brief their bliss, 't is painful to relate ; Would it were not, but such is cruel Fate. The baron stared with eyes of flashing fire, Gesticulating wild, could not retain his ire ; A RACE FOR A BRIDE. 21 "Dam'd cur," he cried, "vile horsemanship have shown, My vow is naught, and you I'll never own. Get thee from hence, thou low bred hireling race. And never let me gaze on thine accursed face." *' Father ! " she cried, " revoke thy cruel curse, He's rich in virtue although poor in purse ; I '11 be his wife, let nothing part us now, You 've pledged your word, and I 'II fulfill your vow." The baron's wrath increased beyond all bounds. Rushed back and forth upon his royal grounds. As if to nerve him for the awful crime. Most unprovoked and flagrant of that time. Clemanthe watched her father in despair, And with her lover breathed a silent prayer. He called again for Egbert to depart; They silent stood like statues heart to heart. He drew his sword and rushing tow'rd the twain. Thrust through and through, thus by her father slain. He stood there gazing but a moment on his child. Conscious of the deed, shrieked loud and wild ; Withdrew the sword their precious blood had spilt, Fell on the same and drove it to the hilt. Gilbert C. was witness to the deed, Dismounted not, but urging on his steed. 22 A RACE FOR A BRIDE. As if to gain some hoped for, wished for goal, Away they sped, his steed beyond control. As league on league he now unguided sped, Until endurance ceased fell he exhausted dead. The rider still in his own fancy rode. Applied his whip, as aimlessly he strode, Until his friends o'ertook and led his way ; We find him thus in prison cell to-day. The wizard's herbs were given the reverse, The cause of murder, suicide and curse. A CHILD OF NATURE. O ! how pleasant 't is to wander In the deep and quiet wood ; Oft in silence here I ponder, Midst Dame Nature's solitude. I dearly love the bright-eyed daisy, As it becks and nods to me ; The horrid men, they must be crazy. None its grace and beauty see. See the mirrored trees a-waving In the waters bright and clear. And the weeping willows laving Their drooping limbs, their hearts to cheer. In every branch, and twig and leaflet Is a sermon broad and grand, One that every child of Nature Can so easy understand. See the birdies — precious nestlings. With their ope'd wide scarlet throats. When but on a brief to-morrow. They '11 be trilling joyous notes. (23) 24 A CHILD OF NATURE. The nimble squirrel and the rabbit Love this broad expanse to roam ; Would that I could but inhabit This charming place to call my home ! I love, indeed, each charming creature That flies the air, or earth has trod ; In every attribute and feature Shows the handiwork of God. I often crave this isolation By the brook's green carpet rim, Holding sweet commune with Nature, Draws me nearer unto Him. SPRING ON THE FARM. Of seasons all, that do most pleasure bring, Thou gentle nymph be praised, sweet balmy Spring. The swelling buds are motionless and dumb. Yet they a language speak, " Fair Spring is come." Thy coming brings us birds from sunny climes, To carol notes to us ; no sweeter chimes Were heard, save in elysian bowers ; Companions mete, bright birds and fragrant flow'rs. No fairy land without them ere can vie In rare perfume and sweetest minstrelsy. The purling brook and rivulet and rill Thou bring'st to life, thro' all the winter still. The finny tribe again once more are gay, In sunshine basking in their wanton play. Emerges now the turtle, lazily to bask In hottest sunshine, tho' a seeming task ; In groups asleep they lie, perchance to dream ; On slightest sound plunge headlong in the stream. AH day the frogs in silence sit in rushy glade, At even-tide in concert sing their nightly serenade ; The deep bass voices leading off, tenors chiming in^ Contraltos, treble, each in turn at intervals begin. (25) 26 SPT{ING ON THE FAT{M. The nimble lambs in playfulness are seen To congregate upon the hillside green ; As one surmounts a stump with eager zest, Instructor now assumes to be for all the rest ; How odd the sight, yet may not this be true, In silent language teach them how to do ? The chanticleer now crowing shrill and loud, His brood observing, and is justly proud ; Industrious his helpmeet labors all the day. Chastising any, should they not obey ; Yet guarding them, and out of danger brings. By shelt'ring them beneath her spacious wings. Alone the gander stands with such unrest On one foot, keeping guard the hidden nest ; Should you, at last, his charge have found. With outspread wings he comes with hissing sound. The little calves, so gentle, yet so shy. Uneasy quite, unless their dam is nigh. Who watches them with keenest love and joy. Exceeds the love the mother for the boy. The martin-box, long tenantless and still. Now filled with birds that labor with a will. Rebuild their nests, as oft their heads protrude. With thoughts intent upon the coming brood. Fair Spring thou art, we '11 hold thee ever dear! Thou 'It bide till summer comes, return to us next year. ORIGIN OF SANTA GLAUS. A LEGEND. Once on a time, it matters not Just when and where, have quite forgot. Although my locks are hoary ; 'T was told to me this legend true And faithfully will tell it you, This legendary story. He was once a little shepherd lad. With never an inclination bad. Through all his life's gradation ; He herded sheep by hills and brooks. And all the while' was reading books. Thus fitted to rule a nation. 'T is said of him, when but a child. His countenance was soft and mild As the tenderest little baby ; All loved him, yet I know not why ; That merry twinkle of his eye Was half the reason, may be. (27) 28 OT{IGIN OF SAlslTA CLAUS. The children gather'd 'bout his knees, Climbed on his back with perfect ease; But 't was his greatest pleasure To furnish candies, nuts and toys To all good little girls and boys And in no scanty measure. 'T was in the reign of a wicked king (I truly wish there was no such thing, Especially one that 's jealous), Our hero was despised by him. That he could rend him limb from limb. E'en worse than that they tell us. Now in his rage his trumpet blew, Brought forth his royal retinue. Thus spoke of the one he dreaded : " Have him brought to yonder tower, Mark well my words, in one short hour The rogue shall be beheaded." The edict flashed like lightning's fire, To children what could be more dire ! 'T was awful beyond all knowing ; Almost as quick as I can tell. The court was thronged, and citadel Was full to overflowing. OT^IGIN OF SAhlTA CLAUS. 29 " O King ! " they cried, mid sobs and tears, " He 's been so very good for years, Indeed we can not bear it To have him murdered, 'cause he 's good, He 's done no wrong, that 's understood, And we 're all here to swear it." " Now by my faith you 're very brave, Endanger your lives your friends to save, 'T is really to be commended ; Yet he a curse to me has been, I 've tried in vain your love to win; It must and shall be ended. " Mark ! This, alone, can save your friend, Your love and adoration end, And love no one before me ; Transfer your love to me, your king, And I will countless blessings bring, If you will but adore me." ** No, no !" They cried with one accord, "We 'II never cease to love our lord, But cherish him forever ; With breaking hearts, we promise this — If you will but our friend dismiss, To love you both endeavor." 30 OT^IGIN OF SA'NTA CLAUS. " No ! By my soul your friend shall die ; No greater man shall live than I, T is useless now to ask it ; Go! Headsman, order bells to toll, His head shall in an instant roll Down in the bloody basket! " Our hero, standing by the block. The sobbing children 'round him flock, He asks the king the reason ; " Is it for crime, or murder ? No ! Because the children love me so, O, King, is this called treason? " The king for shame now hung his head. He knew the truth the man had said. Yet would change his edict never ; "Although I grant your power and will, The children, they will love me still. And I '11 love them forever. (( Hereafter by supernal laws. You '11 speak of me as Santa Claus, The old, good-natured fairy ; Although I come 'mid snow and ice, I '11 bring you ev'ry thing that 's nice, In my overcoat, all hairy. OT^IGIN OF SANTA CLAUS. 31 Now, precious ones, I '11 say adieu, And make this solemn vow to you, Because I love you dearly, Tho' I may dwell in Northern clime, I '11 visit each on Christmas time. With sleigh and reindeer, yearly." ****** All know how well his vow 's been kept. Even while the children slept He 's traversed lands and waters ; His presents found on Christmas morn, — Almost before the day is born, — By our darling sons and daughters. TO THOS. A. HENDRICKS. IN MEMORIAM. A day of thanks is turned to grief, Our Nation mourns instead ; Alas ! too true, our pride and cliief Beloved Hendricks 's dead. Forbid that we should censure Him Who watches us with care, Yet seemingly He chose the one Our Nation least could spare. A statesman great, a patriot true, For the right he ever stood ; Honesty was all he knew. None knew him but for good. In party faith convictions strong (For all this right reserve), He being right could not be wrong, Nor from his duty swerve. (32) * TO THOS. A. HENDT{ICKS. 33 Aside from party, all in praise Speak volumes of his worth, His intellect like sun's bright rays In splendor shining forth. He 's now at rest, his labor 's done. It can but give us pain To lose " Indiana's favorite son," Nor see his like again. To history, in after years We '11 point with perfect pride; To Morton and our Hendricks, too, We '11 find them side by side. Quite balanced they in intellect, Men of gigantic brain ; Each their party did protect, Tho' brothers in the main. May we so live, in death no dread, That when life's journey 's past. We, too, can say, as he has said. Thank Heaven, " I 'm free at last." HOME. Home, the dearest spot on earth, Tho' many miles be intervening, And if it be our place of birth, It bears a still more sacred meaning ; Far reaching does its influence spread. With mother, queen of home, adorning ; What brightness does her minist'ring shed, As a gentle sun on April morning. Lord or peasant may dwell there. No titled coat of arms essential ; No high distinction can compare Where hearts' content, far more potential. It may be mansion or a cot, Antiquate, or latest fashion ; High or low, it matters not. Where love 's the only ruling passion. Every act should mutual be, As round the family altar kneeling. With one accord should bend the knee. To God and country's weal appealing. (34) HOME. 35 It may be east, north, south or west, In woodland, plain, or crowded city : T is where the mind and heart 's at rest, Responsive to all calls of pity. Let social games be favored here, We admonish parents, never mind them. Where these are not, we have a fear Your boys will go elsewhere to find them Let sunlight shine in every room, By being cheerful, kind and pleasant, 'T will certainly dispel all gloom, — At roll call, each will answer " present. The home is, therefore, after all. Just what the members try to make it ; Deem not your door a guarded wall, But free for each and all to take it. A home ideal, thus you see, We need but strive and 't will be given; In truth, it is but one degree Below the pearly gates of heaven. DUFFEY'S VALENTINE.* The story as told me, of Duffey's mishap, Began something after this wise : James Duffey, a handsome and promising chap, Loved a girl, yet that 's no surprise. Bess Brown was the being he so much adored. And he cared not a whit that 't was known ; He'd sparked her too often, now to be bored. And he called her his darling, his own. He loved her quite fondly, the story relates, This hazel-eyed, pretty gazelle ; His love was returned, it too, also states, As true lovers only can tell. There is always a " bitter along with the sweet " (An adage well known to be true). Bess Brown had a rival— Miss Dorothy Treat— Who dearly loved James Duffey, too. Hate does n't begin to express his contempt For Miss Treat, who indeed loved him so ; On every occasion she 'd make an attempt To inveigle Jim in for her beau. * Paraphrased from M, Quad's Duffey's Valeutine. (36) DUFFEY'S l^^LENTINE. 37 Thus matters went on until Valentine's Day, Jim bought a supply when in town ; A horrid old comic was purchased for Treat, The sweetest of Cupid's for Brown. He enclosed a sweet missive to the one he adored, Asking her heart and her hand ; Likewise to Miss Treat, tho' love he ignored, In language most haughty and grand. In addressing the notes — 't is sad to relate — He made an egregious mistake ; Love's message it sped to the one he did hate, To his loved one the comic did take. [_Sktp three days.~\ He was wholly unconscious of what he had done, While Miss Treat was in rapturous bliss ; She started for Duffey's, and went on a run. To fall in his arms with a kiss. Rushed in the room unannounced, what a shame, (He was thinking of Bess — soon his wife) — Almost out of breath she then did exclaim : "Take me, James ; I 'm yours, yours for life." 38 DUFFEY'S VALET^TINE. He told her quite plainly he'd not take her at all, And tore from her loving embrace ; Then rushed to the attic just over the hall, With a look of despair on his face. Miss Treat took her leave, tho' never dismayed, For his letter to her she possessed ; On her rival she'd call, and her offer parade, In a manner Bess Brown would detest. Now Bess was amused and fearful withal. His handwriting he failed to conceal ; Her beau had a sister on whom she could call, And to her the secret reveal. Had often before, could now, without doubt, With safety her secret confide ; She started for Duffey's by the nearest known route And stood at the front door outside. Their bonnets, a striking resemblance each bore, (Am sure I know not who 's to blame); So also it happened the dresses each wore And in stature the girls were the same. From the window above our hero could see. To keep posted on warfare without. " Look ! Treat has returned as sure as can be ; Young lady, I '11 put you to rout." DUFFEY'S VALENTINE. 39 He now did a most ungentlemaniy thing, It is but right you should know ; Tool< a bucket of water and gave it a fling, Straight down on the figure below. Damp and indignant she turned on her heel, Though never a syllable spoke. Homeward she wended, yet could not but feel That the letter was meant for no joke. It occurred to our hero, 't would be in good taste To call on his darling, his Bess ; Emerged from the attic, departed in haste, Full assured that his answer was yes. The door of the parlor was standing ajar. Nothing wrong to walk in, take a seat ; The snow without blinded, he could n't see far. Or he would have discovered Miss Treat. Her eyes more accustomed to the darkness inside At once to our hero she swept : He thinking, of course, 'twas Bessie, his bride, In a loving embrace there they wept. There are times in our life that Providence seems To take a conspicuous part ; It often, too, happens in lovers' young dreams, An apparent mischance breaks a heart. 40 DUFFEY'S VALEi^TINE. ' T was so in this case — a strong gust of wind Blew open the shutters full wide ; Just at this moment Miss Bessie appeared And ordered the intruders outside. Treat tightly held on to her darling, her James, Until reaching the sidewalk and street ; Our hero was naughty, and called her bad names, Thus making them strangers complete. Now, Duffey returned to his Bessie at once. The horrid mistake to explain : She would not believe him, and called him a dunce. And turned up her nose in disdain ; She told him to go to his Dorothy Treat And never to darken her door ; He walked away sadly and felt his defeat. While vengeance on women he swore. Breach of Promise was entered, very next court, To prove it, his letter was read ; The jury decided to break up the sport- " For the plaintiff, five thousand," they said. Dorothy, now with this nice little sum Began for the future to plan, 'T would be an incentive for others to come. Thus wage war upon a fresh man. DUFFEY'S J^ALENTINE. 41 Moral. Young girls, listen now to this piece of advice, And I trust you will follow it, too ; Don ' t waste your affections, no matter how nice, Till you ' re certain the fellow loves you. Young men, I ' ve a simple suggestion to make, Which I feel it my duty to give, In addressing your missives, don ' t make a mistake — You ' 11 regret it as long as you live. THE STORY OF THE GOOD SAMARITAN. I purpose telling you in rhyme Of experience dearly bought, By a traveler in ancient time ; Old Jericho he sought. On foot, he started out alone, Light-hearted, strong of arm, Courageous, he no fear had known Nor bode he any harm. His journey lay through forests deep, Meandering streams abound, Clustering pines on mountains steep With cones so large and round ; Thus journeyed he, nor drew apace Tho' wearied sore was he. He 'd reached a wild and lonely place, Close by the rolling sea. New danger now awaits him here. And for it ill-prepared ; A band of robbers here appeared. Nor was the traveler spared. (42) THE STORY OF THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 43 The3^ stripped his raiment, took his purse, And thinking he was dead, Then departed with a curse, " He '11 tell no tales," they said. Half unconscious there he lay, Bemoaning every breath, When lo ! a Levite comes this way, To look on the face of death. " O, Son of Levi ! Help ! " he cried, In tones of deep despair ; He passed by on the other side, Unfeeling left him there. *' Help ! Help ! " he cried, in louder tones, His wounds his mind had crazed, A priest attracted by his groans. Drew near and on him gazed. " O ! priest of the temple, holy man. Come help me, or I die ; " He paused, the while his face to scan, Yet deigned he no reply. Tho' recognizing him full well, As one of hi-s kith and kin, No brotherly love did in him dwell. No kindly heart within. 44 7"//E STORY OF THE GOOD SAMARITAN. His office made him quite devout, Long-faced and loud of prayer ; With no remorse he turned about, Withdrew and left him there. He quiet lay, all hope had fled, Despair shone out his face, A Samaritan this way was led, An enemy to his race. " Man of Samaria, pity me. My race have me decried." The Samaritan on bended knee Was quickly at his side. " What have we here, an Israelite, By the wayside, almost dead ? Poor fellow ! he will famish quite. Without some drink and bread. Cheer up, my friend, your thirst now slake, From out my pitcher here ; Also do thou this garment take, I 'm thy neighbor, do not fear. "My friend arise and lean on me, For you are very weak ; You need a surgeon, too, I see. We must a refuge seek." THE STORY OF THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 45 To a friendly inn he took him thence, And said with much concern, " Host, care for him at my expense, I '11 pay on my return." The lesson here designed to teach Should obvious be to all ; 'T is this, " to practice what you preach ;," Do right, tho' the Heavens fall. Friendship true, and Brotherly Love Go hand in hand through life, And always will a blessing prove Here in this world of strife. 'T is not professing certain creeds That insures our sins forgiven, But kindly acts and loving deeds. That make us shine in Heaven. Indeed, 'tis said in Holy Writ, Of Charity alone, If we have but the lack of it Our Father 'II never own. 'T is not vocation, race, or dress, That makes men kind and true. But 't is the heart that they possess- That reaches out to you. w 46 THE STORY OF THE GOOD SAMARITAN. Calamity may each befall, And be a bitter cup, But loving hands will ever call And help to lift you up. THE SOLDIER'S FAREWELL. Farewell, that word, if fitly spoken, Gives us but pain, the weary heart unrest ; 'T is but a guide, an index, sign, a token Of emotions deep that dwell within our breast. Farewell to friends, is always said in sorrow. With deep regret we take them by the hand,. Reflecting thus that on the brief to-morrow Estranged from us and in a distant land. Farewell to father, dear farewell to mother, It breaks our hearts, and gives us untold woe ; Farewell to sister, and farewell to brother. Our pent-up tears do now unbidden flow. Farewell to wife, by far the hardest trial, Our country calls us now in deadly strife, To leave her thus, indeed no worse denial. Were asked of us, with e ' en our very life. (47) 48 THE SOLDIER'S FAREIVELL. The children, dear, how can we leave them ? They dream not what our fate may be, Apprise them not for 'twill but grieve them To learn, perchance, their father ne'er may see. Farewell to sweetheart, young and winsome creature Self-sacrificing, dutiful and brave ; Her trials marked, alas, in every feature, Yet swerves she not, her country's name to save. No farewells said beyond this world of sadness No battles waged, upon that happy shore ; There '11 be instead, all peace, and joy, and gladness, In that blest clime, where partings all are o'er. MEMORIAL DAY. When Sumter's gun was heard to peal Its warnings to the North, Caused patriotic hearts to feel The need of coming forth, Our country's honored name to save. To dare, to do, or die ; ' Oh, may our flag of union wave," Was then the battle cry. War waged against a foreign foe Is bad enough, indeed. To battle those we do not know Must cause our hearts to bleed ; Yet, a nation pitted 'gainst itself (As 'twas in sixty-one), A thousand times more awful. For 'twas father 'gainst the son. A call for volunteers was made. The " boys " did quickly come, Marched in review and dress parade, To the step of fife and drum ! (49) 50 MEMORIAL DAY. I see a widow's only son, In fancy, don the blue, With canteen, haversack and gun, His mother bid adieu To him, who was her all in all; Said, as he rose to go, " My son, be brave, if you must fall, Let your face be to the foe." I will not trace this warfare through, Those four long years of pain. Privation, suffering and death. May it ne'er recur again. Each side was well commanded. By Generals Grant and Lee, The South at last surrendered, At the Appomattox tree. 'T was cause of great rejoicing, Our hopes were realized That our country be a unit, And but one flag recognized. Through battles all, the widow's son Recalled his mother's word, He changed his cartridge box and gun For shoulder straps and sword. MEMORIAL DAY. 5 1 In sixty-five he wrote her, *' I '11 soon be home, no doubt, For the war is nearly over. Then I '11 be mustered out." Fate will'd that this v/as not to be ; In the Wilderness campaign, Our hero, bent on victory. Was numbered with the slain. The stars and stripes his winding sheet, Was sent to his mother's cot; They bore him thence with martial feet To the family burying lot. The minute guns were fired. As they lowered him to his rest, Thank God, my boy was valiant. For the bullet pierced his breast." We decorate this grave, to-day. Symbolizing thousands more Of gallant soldiers in the fray. Who ' ve crossed to the other shore. Fond mem'ry brings our comrades back, (This precious boon we crave). Not as they moulder here, alack, In the dark and silent grave; 52 MEMORIAL DAY. But as true soldiers dressed in blue In mem'ry now are seen, Shared rations oft with me and you, And drank from the same canteen. Marched side by side through thick and thin, Each other's burdens bore, Faltered not in battle's din Or the cannon's awful roar. 'T was in defense of the stripes and stars, We battled on like men. Forgetful of unsightly scars, Or the southern prison pen. This loving service tells us all That man is prone to die ; No matter be he great or small, Death hearkens not our cry ; But cuts us down with sickle keen, (How brief our earthly span) ! *T was only but on yester e'en — The infant — now the man. These darksome sepulchres so cold, Wherein our comrades lay, In reality, but merely hold Their tenements of clay : MEMORIAL DAY. 53 Once disenthralled, their spirits sped To Him who gave them light, To join those of the countless dead In the land where there's no night. *T is meet that we employ these hours, As by headquarters plann'd, 'T is meet that we bestrew these flowers With a reverential hand Upon the graves of those we love : 'T is a symbol true, I ween ; Those gone away to the realm above. Are kept in memory green. Then brightest flowers let us bring. All laden with perfume, Emblematic of eternal Spring, Where Eden bowers bloom. Appointed once for man to die — We can not always stay — They may strew the graves of you and me, As we strew these to-day. We can not help the dead of ours, Whose names we now revere, By strewing bright and fragrant flowers On graves recounted here ; 54 MEMORIAL DAY. Simply our esteem reveal, For their brave and daringness ; We do it freely, for we feel We ought do nothing less. Then let our dear, brave comrades sleep- Distinction they have won — Let whisp'ring winds their vigils keep, For valiant service done. Their peaceful souls be troubled not — Peace reigns vv^ith us supreme — No more they '11 hear the picket shot Nor see the sabre's gleam. No more they '11 hear the bugle call, No more the reveille. Not once again in line will fail. No dress-parade will see ; No more on picket duty placed. No counter-signs be said. Until the resurrection from The bivouac of the dead. A PREACHER FROM TEXAS. A preacher from Texas late had his demise, And straightway to Heaven he rode ; Saint Peter could hardly conceal his surprise, When informed of his recent abode. The Saint ope'd the portal, bade him walk in, And gave him a harp and a crown ; Imagine the preacher's surprise and chagrin. When he found not a soul from his town. He remarked to Saint Peter, when out for a stroll, "This seems most exceedingly queer. In all of my labors, I 've saved not a soul, I hoped to fmd every one here." " Remember, dear doctor," Saint Peter replied, " There 's a rival attraction below. And is well patronized, it can 't be denied. As report of last census will show." " Perhaps 'twould be better to aid your unrest, Of His Majesty's realm to learn; In purchasing ticket, let me suggest, A double one, good for return." (55) 56 . A PREACHER FROM TEXAS. Uneventful the ride, as downward he flew, Deep darkness, superlative night, Till Old Vulcan's forge appeared to his view, Which made a most uncanny light. Satan advanced, as he stepped from his car (Observing his clerical mein;, *' Friend, are you certain you know where you are? An odd place for preachers, I ween." ** A visitor, merely," replied the divine. Betraying no tremor of fear, " My flock it has wandered, I can but opine, A number are living down here." Satan was silent, yet grimaced askance. Then chuckled with fiendish delight, The preacher but needed a cursory glance, To learn that his surmise was right. Satan stepped forward and offered his arm (For he of politeness can boast), " To my guests there can happen no possible harm, And you '11 fmd me a generous host." He was guided throughout the Realm of Fire, And he saw not a few of his sheep : The pillars, and deacons, and all of his choir. Impelled him to silently weep. A PREACHER FROM TEXAS. 57 His Majesty said : " 'T is my duty, dear guest, To inform you the day of your train." Nick, show me a scalper that wants to invest, I 've made up my mind to remain." TORRID WEATHER. {ioo° in Shade.} We can not keep cool, and therefore we grumble ; We can not get even one short cooling breath ; We lie in our hammocks, we roll and we tumble, We tumble and roll, nearly worried to death. We now are attired in the scantiest clothing, A Fiji or Hottentot e'en put to shame. Yet to wear even this, it gives us a loathing, We 'd imitate Eve, if 't were not for the name. O, for a lodge in the frigidest ocean ! O, to embrace the hidden North Pole ! Anything cooling, e'en a "cold pizen potion," To disseminate heat, tho' it freezeth the soul. O ! for an iceberg of gigantic proportion (Not barely just one, but, rather, a fleet); To guarantee even a snooze, I 've a notion, .'T would take one at our head, and two at our feet. Come down, Mr. Blizzard, and pay us a visit, Come with your frigidity, fury and fuss ; It can not be hotter in Sheol — now is it? — Than the weather we 're having at present with us. (58) TORRID IV EAT HER. 59 Yes, come right along, sir, don 't tarry a minute, Leave no one at home, sir, but bring entire crew, I venture a farthing, when once you are in it. There ne'er was a hotter reception for you. Off goes your ear-muffs, and great coat, I trow, sir, When once you are subject to our torrid laws, 'T will warm even charity, and you, too, I know, sir, Contented you '11 be with the thinnest of gauze. How can we endure this dry, torrid weather? 'T will last how much longer, I wonder who knows ? I 'm ready to vacate this world altogether. If only allowed to return when it snows. THE OPERA BONNET. How fresh in my mind is the opera bonnet, That looms up before me, obstructing my view. That has from a titmouse to condor upon it ; - I damaged my vision, but could not see through. Still distorting my body, quite like a great noodie,— To see but an actor, it seems such an age ; But look ! my obstructor 's caressing her poodle, I now have an excellent view of the stage. That far-reaching bonnet, That stop-vision bonnet. That horrible bonnet, that bane cf the stage. That sweet little actress, of her I 'm enamored,— . To gaze on her beauty is rapture and bliss. But up comes that horrible bonnet,— Dog hammered ! I did not get even to throw her a kiss. Oh, what shall I do? I can no longer bear it! Shall I go for a " clove," my ire to assuage, Or grapple that bonnet, into carpet rags tear it, And scatter the demon all over the stage ? That top-heavy bonnet. That sky-tow'ring bonnet. That infernal bonnet, the bane of the stage. (60) HOOSIER DIALECT POEA^S. (6i) HOW AUNT MARIER SPENT THE HOLIDAYS. Sam, our second boy, you know, Thet hankered after knowledge And settled down in Chicago, When he had got thro' college, An' married jist six years ago, Not one of us had seed 'em ; They writ us lots of letters tho', How glad we wus to read 'em. We had n't heerd fer quite a spell, When we got another letter, All printed out in purple ink, — *'They must be doin' better," Says Josh to me, an' begun to read, "Chicago, twelfth an' secon', Dearborn Av., Flat twenty-one," They 'r broke up now, I reckon. " My dear old father, mother, too, I hasten to address you ; 'T is been an age since last we met, 1 love you still, God bless you! (63) 64 HOIV AUl^T MARIER SPENT THE HOLIDAYS. We want you both to visit us,— Spend holidays, vacation ; 'T will do you good, and then, besides. To see your new relation. " I 've dealt in margins strong of late, Like little Jacky Horner, * Put in a thumb, pulled out a plumb ; ' In fact I 've ' held a corner.' I 've been a bear for ninety days. Have made the bulls look sulky. By buying short and selling long, My bank account is bulky. ** So come along and don't delay (I enclose you railroad passes), 'T will be a glorious holiday, For my little bonnie lasses. I 've told them you would surely come, They must not catch me fibbing ; 1 '11 only say good-bye till then. Your son, J. Samuel Cribbing." I says to Josh, for pity sake What is our Sammy doin'? He must be goin' with a show, An' actin' like a bruin. HOPVAUNT MARIER SPENT THE HOLIDA YS. 65 " He 's on the Board 0' Trade," says Josh, *'A-makin' of the prices, The bulls push up, the bears pull down, The father of a crisis." Says I to Josh, we both can 't go ; Says he, "An' more 's a pity, You never rid on the kivered keers, Ner scacely seed a city. But then, expect you 'd better go, Fer 't is time you wus a lernin' ; I '11 stay an' feed an' milk the cows, An' do the chores an' churnin'." We sot the day fer me to start, An' it was n't long a-comin', An' when I took the kivered keers, My lands ! they went a-hummin'. I couldn't help but watch the things Go flyin' past the winder ; My journey's eend wus gettin' near, Thar warn't a thing to hinder. " Chicago ! " shouted the lantern man. An accomodatin' feller, Who help'd me with my carpet-sack, Ban'-box an' umbereller. 66 HOIV AUNT MARIER SPENT THE HOLIDAYS. A big blue-coated man, says he, " Where is your destination ? " I aint got none, says I to him, I 'm boun' fer my relation. I handed Sammy's letter out. An' he read the numbers in it. Says he to me, " You '11 take the grip, Be off in half a minit." I told him I hed hed the grip An' ev'ry other ailin'; " Here, Aunty, take this cable grip," An' he sent me off a sailin'. I got off when the fixin' stopped. An' looked this way an' tother; Thar warn't a single flat in sight. Each tall jist like the other. I noticed number twenty-one. With lions guardin' by it; Was ruther feard to venter up, But tho't I 'd better try it. I give the bell a monstrous pull (I lerned that back in Posey); A woman opened up the door. With cheeks all round and rosy. HOJV AUNT MARIERSPET^T THE HOLIDAYS. 67 " Is this my Sammy's wife?" says I, " Your card, I must present it ; " " I don't play keerds," I made reply, In a manner thet I meant it. Jist then my Sammy happened in An' raley know'd his mother, An' called his wife and childern in, An' made me nearly smother With hugs and kisses all to onct ; It was a happy greetin', The happiest day that 1 hev hed Sence at our love-feast meetin'. I told him why Josh didn't come, Still it couldn't help but fret him. Says he, "My joy is incomplete; I wish I could have met him ; Yet I 'm so thankful that you came, I must forget all others. He put his arms around my neck, " 'T is mine, the best of mothers." I up an' told him all the news, 'Bout the meetin' house a-burnin', Of the 'lection we 'd hed of late, 'Bout everybody turnin'; 68 HOJV AUl^T MARIER SPENT THE HOLIDAYS. 'Bout ole Dobbin runnin' off When haulin' in pertaters ; Bout Plielps' gals a-goin' to town A lernin to be waiters. Told him 'bout his ole sweetheart 'Lopin' with Jack Blivin, An' comin' back to her parent roof Ready to be forgiven. The old folks actin' sensible, Withdrawin' their objection. They 's got as good a son-in-law As any in that section. Sammy showed me thro' the house ; He said it all wus his'n ; Of marble, stone, an' iron too, — It seemed more like a prison; A dozen rooms or more in all With 'lectricity wus lighted. An' heated with a biler, too,-- My Sammy wus delighted. They hed spring cheers in ev'ry room, An' carpets velvet fillin'; Spring beds and big flat mattresses, An' this to me wus killin'; HOIV AUm' MARIER SPENT THE HOLIDAYS. 69 I wouldn't give my feather bed, An' tick with new straw scented, Fer ail the springs an' mattresses Thet ever wus invented. I couldn't help but think of him,— Fer a person's mind will wander, — 'T was Sammy, in his boyhood days, On our homestead way back yonder. I believe thet he wus happier then, Not a single hour wus gloomy. Then with his riches of to-day. An' mansion grand and roomy. They took me out to see the sights, — I promised not to worry, — The people went which ever' way, An' all seem'd in a hurry; They didn't even stop to speak. Rushed past your Aunt Marier As if their folks wus nearly dead, Er goin' to squench a fire. They took me 'round to see the parks, An' the animals a-showin', A big white house, they called it green, With flowers in it growin'. 70 HOl^' AUNT MARIER SPENT THE HOLIDAYS. I wouldn't venter on the lake, I whispered to my darter, I b'leeve in sprinkalin', y' know, I'm a leetle 'feard o' warter. We went one night to the opery ; When the curtain bell went ringin* They didn't give 'em time to dress. Till they hed 'em out a singin'. They did n't 'pear a bit ashamed, — I wouldn't tho't they 'd do it — They hed on lots of skeeter bar. But easy to see through it. I liked Same's family awful well. An' they all 'peared to love me. They didn't act a bit stuck up, Like city folks above me. I 'd been with them, now jist a week. An' must start back to-morry, An' when I tho't o' leavin' them It made me feel so sorry. Sam says to me, " I 've plenty wealth, We mean that you shall share it, I present you with this silken gown. An' beg of you to wear it ; HOIV AUhIT MARIER SPENT THE HOLIDAYS. 71 We give a company to-night, In honor of your visit, The only thing that I regret, That father needs must miss it." " I 'm much obleeged to you, my boy," — Great tears my eyes wus sheddin', — *' The last silk dress I ever wore Wus at your father's weddin'. I '11 wear it at your party, son ; Altho' I 've gray hairs plenty, I '11 jine so yearnest in the fun. They '11 think I 'm five and twenty. " But hev you got your cookin' done Fer company folks, now Sammy? ' No ! ' Then you 'd better clear the way An' leave it to your mammy. I '11 make two hundred crullers, Sam, An' twist cakes, nothin' shorter. Git cider sweet an' cider hard, Five gallons each, you orter." Sam told his man with the paper cap. Who seemed a little daunted, To give me freedom of the house, Er anything I wanted. 72 HOJV AUNT MA'KIETi SPENT THE HOLIDAYS. \ rolled my s/eeves, pinned up my dress, An' buckled right into it ; The time, it seemed so short to me, 'Till I was dun and through it. The time hed come fer me to primp, Fer company folks hed gethered, My silk dress made me shine jest like A peacock lately feathered. Sam introduced me all around, I felt relieved when thro' it ; He wus so happy, I '11 be bound. He felt right proud to do it. They hed the games of Crokinole, Of Tiddledeewinks, Parcheesi, I didn't much object to these, So harmless an' so easy ; But when it come to playin' keerds, Excuse your Aunt Marier ; I tuck them blamed ole yuker decks An' throwed 'em in the fire. They danced aroun' the room by twos. In a ruther purty motion, Yit nothin' like ole " weaverly wheat," Accordin' to my notion. H01VAUNTMAT^IET{ SPENT THE HOLIDAYS. 73 I ordered all the fiddlin' stop'd, An' we play'd ole Sister Phoeby ; The way I cut the pigeon wing Would rival Queen 0' Sheby. Your Aunt obsarv'd sum snickerin', But she did n't keer a hooter, She hes a way of straightenin' things When they do n't go to suit her. She tuck the lead in other plays, Thet all the folks admired, An' spoke of her in perfect praise, Before they all retired. Next day I kissed 'em all good-bye. With a blessin' " God protect you ! You say you '11 visit us next year ; Do n't fail, fer we '11 expect you." Sam tuck me to the depo' place; Jist before the keers hed started, He put a brass check in my hand. We said good-bye and parted. Josh give the check to the baggage-man,- I aint tellin' you no story,— He rolled us out a leather trunk Big 'nuff fer Queen Victory. 74 HOIV AUNT MAT^IET^ SPENT THE HOLIDAYS. We opened it when we got home, An' we wus quite delighted ; Our Sam had sent a notion store, Fer both of us united. We found this note, "Accept this, please, From your second son who made it; Do n't feel that any thanks are due. You Ve a thousand times repaid it." I wus tellin' Josh the nice time I 'd hed, An' he did n't look so pleasin'; " Begosh I '11 let the cows go dry An' go myself next season." UNCLE JOSH AT A CHRISTMAS TREE. I went to town a Christmas eve, Fur the second time this season; 'Lowed may be I 'd stay all night, Marier 'd know the reason; I wanted to see a Christmas tree, An' see jist how they run it; Since things turned out as they did, I 'm awful glad I dun it. I never seed a "tree" afore, Nur had n't much idear; I took a seat clear up in front, So I could see and hear. Found I wus ruther early tho', For they wus still arrangin' Purty things all 'round the tree, An' now an' then a changin'. Did n't hev very long to wait, Till the children com.e a-flockin'; Made me think when I 's a boy, A hangin' up my stockin'. (75) 76 UNCLE JOSH AT A CHT{JSTM/}S TTlEE. I allers bleev'd in Santa Claus; Them wus my happiest hours; The nearest I kin liken it Is a hummin' bird in flowers. Three little gals set down by me, With joy their faces beamin', Watchin' the tree with eager eyes, An' the presents bright and gleamln', Wonderin' what they each would git; I felt their hearts wus akin' For fear they 's miss'd (they bein' poor), An' no interest in them takin'. Songs wus sung, and speeches made, By little folks an' old 'uns; Sum, was full uv sympathy, An' others mighty cold 'uns. The preacher teched on charity, In a purty little story, Sayin' all who gave the poor Would git reward in glory. Speeches thru', the time 'd come, An' the presents now awardin'; They 'd take 'em off an' pass 'em roun', Each to their names accordin'. UNCLE JOSH AT A CH%IS TMAS n{EE, 77 I watched their faces earnestly (Fur that wus part my mission), To them that got, still not content, An' all the more wus wishin\ My eyes wus turned to others now, Them three little ones espyin'; I could tell by the'r lashes wet, Thet each hed been a cryin'. "What is yer name, my little girl?" *' Please, sir, my name is 'Mandy.' '' "Did n't they give you any thing?" " No," she sobbed, " not even candy." "Ner me, ner me," the others sobbed, With hearts completely broken; My eyes wus wet in spite of me, In my throat wus sumthin' chokin';, My pocket-book in sympathy Wus out in half a minit, I did n't stop to count the bills, But give 'em all 't wus in it. Their surprisin' look you orter seen. An' tearless eyes now glisten; " One minit, please, my little girls, Will you now kindly listen: 78 UNCLE JOSH AT A CHT^ISTMAS VREE. 'T wus not myself that giv you this, It wus my heart that bid it ; If any ask you who I am, Say Santa Claus who did it." Tlie deacons in amazement stood, 'T wus past their comprehension, ' Hed never seed the lil