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 "^Cre-^o-o^Q^ O^v^^ / t-<ii^> v^cLcrrvi /tX-ucv-r-* 
 
 TO 
 
 THE MEMORY OFOUR 
 BELOVED FATHER 
 
 JOEL ALONZO CHANDLER. 
 

 fiixchang-e 
 
 West. Res. Hist. Soc. 
 
 1915 
 
\^) 
 
 Joel Alonzo Chandler, ooly son of Joel aud 
 Sophia Smith Chandler, was born in Alstead, N. H., May 
 30th, 1824. He was of the seventh generation of the de- 
 scendants of William Chandler and his wife Annis Avho set- 
 tled in Roxbiny. Mass. in 1637. His paternal American 
 ancestors being as follows: 
 
 I. William and Annis Alcock Chandler. 
 
 II. Thomas and Hannah Brewer Chandler. 
 
 III. Henry and Lydia Abbott Chandler. 
 
 IV. Nehemiah and Mary Bnrroughs Chandler. 
 
 V. Joel and Abigail Simmons Chandler. 
 
 VI. Joel and Sophia Smith Chandler. 
 
 When eleven years of age he came with his parents to 
 Cleveland, Ohio. A few years afterwards they moved to 
 Richfield, Summit County where in 1848 he married 
 Martha M. Buck, daughter of Heman and Polly Mace 
 Buck. Seven children were born of this union, three of 
 
 whom are now living and reside in Cleveland viz: 
 
 Francis M. Chandler, Jennie A. Chandler Ellsw^orth and 
 George L. Chandler. His death occurred August 6th. 
 1893. His funeral was held August 8th, from his resi- 
 dence No. 57 Linwood Street and the burial at Lake View 
 
cemetery. The funeral oration was delivered by his stead- 
 fast friend and neighbor Frank N.Wilcox, Esq., who said, 
 
 My Friends :- 
 
 We are met today to perform the last office which the 
 living can perform for the dead. To pay our last tribute of respect 
 to one whose heart throbbed till death stilled it, with kindly sympathy 
 for the cares and sorrows of others and whose hands were ever ready 
 to do the good which his heart prompted. 
 
 It is with a sense of profound personal loss that 1 am here at the 
 dying request of Joel A. Chandler, to speak the words which it is 
 fitting should be uttered before we consign his body to the grave. 
 It was his wish that his funeral rites should be brief and unostenta- 
 tious — that only those should speak of him who were his friends 
 and who could speak of him as he was ''who would nothing extenuate, 
 nor set down ought in malice." This wish was in perfect keeping 
 with his life and character. He was a modest, earnest, honest, faithful 
 man. His life was free from every false pretense. He never did his 
 fellow-man a wrong. He loved his friends and had no enemies; 
 he answered every call which duty made, met every trouble with a 
 cheerful smile and bore his burdens uncomplainingly. 
 
 When such a one as he is claimed by death, it is most tit we read 
 the record that his life has made, that it may give us inspiration to 
 live our own lives better. Here is the simple record of his life: 
 He was born at Alstead, New Hampshire, May 30th., 1824. He was 
 the son of Joel and Sophia Smith Chandler. He was descended 
 from Puritan anccbtors who came from England to Massachusetts 
 in 1637. His paternal grandfather and great grandfather were 
 both volunteer soldiers in the revolutionary army. When eleven 
 years of age he left New Hampshire with his parents and came to 
 Cleveland — here they remained about three years when they remov- 
 ed to Richfield, Ohio where he grew to manhood. He was an eager 
 student and in the local schools obtained an education which quali- 
 fied him as a teacher. He followed this vocation and farming for 
 twenty years, teaching winters and farming summer months. He was 
 a self educated musician of no mean capacity. He was passionately 
 fond of music and with little, if any instruction he became a teacher 
 of music. He so far acquired a knowledge of the laws of harmony that 
 he became an adept in the arrangement of music and composed the 
 music for many songs. Some years since in competition with hun- 
 dreds of others he was awarded a prize by the "Boston Musical Re- 
 cord" for the best poem on music. 
 
 In 1863 he formed a co-partnership with Mr. D. G. Hester and 
 
3 
 
 engaged in the book business at Alliance. It is a pleasure to know 
 that his former partner of many years ago was a daily visitor at 
 his bedside and comforted him in his terrible affliction for many 
 weeks preceding his death. Ill health in a short time compelled him 
 to give up his business at Alliance and return to his home in 
 Richfield; here between farming and mercantile pursuits he passed 
 his life until he removed to Cleveland in 1888, where he has since 
 lived. He was for twenty years a .Justice of the Peace. lie enjoyed to 
 the fullest extent the confidence of his townsmen: he drew their 
 wills and settled their estates, adjusted all their quarrels, and all his 
 judgments were so just they never made him enemies. 
 
 In 1848 he married Martha Buck who together with three chij- 
 dren are here today as mourners at his bier. For many years he was 
 in broken health — for months he knew the end was near. The last 
 entry in his diary is dated April 16ih. 1893. It reads: "I feel myself 
 so broken down that for the present these entries that have given 
 me pleasure for so many years are ended." Since then he has suffer- 
 ed such physical torture as few people are called upon to bear. He 
 has suffered without murmtr or complaint. His thoughts were of 
 others rather than himself. His courage and fortitude were sublime— 
 with patient resignation he waited for the soothing touch of death, 
 to which he looked with pleasure as a welcome friend. I use the lan- 
 guage of another when I tay: "A braver, a more serene, a more 
 chivalric spirit never passed from life to enrich the realms of death; 
 no field of war ever witnessed greater fortitude, more cheerful, smil- 
 ing courage than this weak man displayed through all his weary 
 sickness." 
 
 But now the end has come: the rest he longed for has been grant- 
 ed him. The friend for whom he waited has arrived; and to those 
 whose hearts are heavy: to his mourning family and friends, to his 
 faithful wife, his children of whom he was so fond and proud, there 
 is consolation in the thought, that he has done with the cares and sor- 
 rows of this life — "He can never suffer more, never feel again the 
 chill of death, never part with those he loved, his heart can break no 
 more, he has shed his last tear and upon his brow is set the wondrous 
 seal of everlasting peace." 
 
 Notwithstanding his years of sickness he lived nearly to three score 
 years and ten. He lived and loved and suffered as must all mankind; 
 he had his hours of gladness and of tears. In a fragment of a poem 
 written by himself on the sixtieth anniversary of his birth we 
 find his own statement of what his life has been. He says: 
 My life has seen its three score years, 
 With larger share of smiles than tears, 
 
4 
 
 With some success, enough to meet 
 
 The bitter with a share of sweet. 
 
 From the far past my memory brings 
 
 A legion of remembered things, 
 
 That one by one, have come to me. 
 
 And through my life been company. 
 
 My early home, my school-boy days. 
 
 The Sunday worship, prayer and praise, 
 
 The healthy labor on the farm, 
 
 The out-door, nature's pleasant charm. 
 
 The songs my mother used -to sing, 
 
 Till teardrops to my eyes would spring, 
 
 The moral lessons, line on line, 
 
 My father gave me to be mine, 
 
 And added to his precepts true 
 
 The strength of good example too. 
 This fragment from his own pen gives us the key to his life 
 and character. He loved truth and justice. His nature was joyous, 
 sincere and affectionate, his mind was instinciively pure, poetic and 
 refined. He was a modest, unassuming and educated gentleman, 
 yet with it all he was a man of strong convictions and character. 
 The splendid courage which sustained him in his last days was 
 characteristic of his life; he defended with fearless fairness and 
 convincing logic the principles which he championed. His strength, 
 however, was not of the aggressive or self-assertive type whose 
 blows strike fire. His hand was never mailed. His weapons left no 
 scars, his satire was not barbed. His strength was that of the swaying, 
 yielding but unbreakable cable. He believed in the fatherhood of 
 God and the brotherhood of man. His creed was the Golden 
 Rule; he believed in the religion of humanity and the reign of law. 
 He believed in the immortality of the human soul, but he believed 
 with another whose language I quote, that ''the idea of immortality, 
 which like a sea has ebbed and flowed in the human heart, with its 
 countless waves of hope and fear, beating against the shores and 
 rocks of time and fate, was not born of any book, of any religion or 
 of any creed; that it was born of human affection and will continue 
 to ebb and flow beneath the clouds of doubt and darkness as long as 
 love kisses the lips of death; that it is the rainbow hope, shining 
 upon the tears of grief." 
 
 Let me read another poem from his pen expressing the view, 
 which he entertained at three score years, of this life and of that 
 
for which he hoped. It is in answer to that line from Whittier 
 whose works he loved, which reads: 
 
 "Oh! to be a boy again." 
 He says: 
 
 Would I be a boy again, 
 
 Leave for that my place with men? 
 
 Lay aside the lessons learned? 
 
 Lose the treasures dearly earned? 
 
 Throw away the gathered sense, 
 
 Gained through life's experience? 
 
 Give, at three years and ten, 
 
 All, to be a boy again? 
 
 No; I could not be content 
 
 Back to undevelopment 
 
 To return, to tread again 
 
 The same path I traveled then. 
 
 Subject still to doubts and fears, 
 
 Liable to woes and tears. 
 
 All is gone that should remain 
 
 When I am a boy again. 
 
 Man by laws Divine is made 
 To advance not retrograde. 
 To unfold as bud to flower, 
 To progress with all his power. 
 Mental riches to attain. 
 And true mental culture gain, 
 Wealth to lay in that safe spot 
 Where the thief approacheth not. 
 
 'Tis a holy thing to be 
 Once a child, then live to see 
 Youth, with all its hopes and fears. 
 Manhood ripening through the years, 
 Age matured, that trustingly 
 Waits the call to pass the sea 
 From these shores on which we stund 
 To the glorious summer land. 
 
 That beyond! Our thoughts fly for 
 
 As we view each shining star 
 
 And the vast expanse of blue 
 
 Which those bright worlds circle through; 
 
6 
 
 And a something in us stirs 
 Like tlie zeal of worshippers, 
 When a spiritual light 
 Dawns upon their wondering sight , 
 
 With emotions thrilling us, 
 
 With a glory filling us; 
 
 Rousing thoughts of future bliss 
 
 And a state of happiness. 
 
 Higher yet our thoughts ascend. 
 
 Wider, deeper they extend. 
 
 Viewing with immense surprise ^ 
 
 Human possibilities. 
 
 Thoughts, too, of a mind Divint* 
 Where perfections all combine, 
 Thoughts of Justice such as we 
 Speak of us morality. 
 And our spiritual sense 
 Feels a holy influence 
 Telling us that we are free 
 Heirs of immortality 
 
 Just — Divine — Immortal — three 
 Thoughts, that raise humanity, 
 From its early, low estate. 
 Toward the noble, good and great. 
 Saving all of value gained, 
 While He on the earth remained, 
 And preparing Him to rise 
 To the realms of paradise. 
 
 But if round and round we run. 
 Ending where we have begun 
 Kept within the little span 
 Bounded by the life of man. 
 Always mortal, not to be 
 Clothed with immortality; 
 Man's supreme condition then 
 Is to be a boy again. 
 
 This poem shows how strong was his hope in inmiortality , Imw 
 sure was his belief in the existance of a God of mercy and of love. 
 Few men have lived a life more free from blame. Its record has 
 
7 
 
 not H blot upon the page, lie kept the law: did good to those about 
 him: he strove to do no wrong and gave to every man his honest 
 due: he reverenced truth and justice: cherished those he love<l: 
 despised hypocracy and lived a moral, conscientious life. 
 
 Ho had the gentle and sensitive nature of all poetic souls. His im- 
 agination was pure, elevated and refined. It responded to every en- 
 nobling influence. Music had the power to touch his heart to laugh- 
 ter or tears. He loved to hear th<? prattle of a child and children 
 knew him always as their friend, and so I think "he was as one of 
 these." He had the ]>oets nature and wiih better training and more 
 leisure given, would have made a name. The world is better for 
 his having lived. 
 
 Whatever beliefs others may entertain, I feel Fure that if beyond 
 this life, there is a life to come, where some shall live in everlasting 
 joy, those surely shall, who like our silent brother here today, have 
 professed and practiced thcr^ligicn of good deeds. If there be a 
 great eternal judge betVr,^ whose judgment scat we all must stand at 
 the great day. He is all wise and just, and so will judge us by what 
 our lives have been, will weigh the good ami bad and lean towar<l 
 mercy as He reaJs the scaks. And s ) dtar friends, wo can take conso- 
 lation in the fact, that for him we mourn, the sorrows of this life are 
 at an end, that if there be a life beyond the grave, he lives and 
 loves you as before, that "At the very worst, death is a dreamless 
 sleep, an endless and a perfect rest." i^o let us leave him resting 
 })eacefully. Devoted husband, loving father, steadfast frieml sleep 
 on. Thy work is finished. It is the ripened fruit which has fallen 
 from the tree of life. It is the yellow grain, which has been cut by 
 the pickle, and the fruit and the grain are good. Thon didst pray 
 for release from thy pains and thine infirmities. Thou didst ask to 
 drink of the sweet waters of forgetlulness. We would not disturb 
 thy slumber if we could. Thou art at rest — sleep on. 
 
 Let me sleep in mother earth, 
 
 Lay her sod upon my breast; 
 
 On her bosom I had birth, 
 
 In her bosom I would rest. 
 Let me sleep. 
 
 If for ill my life has been, 
 
 Sculptor's toil were vainly spent 
 
 If for good, the hearts of men 
 
 Euild the noblest monument. 
 Let me sleep. 
 
8 
 POEMS AND RANDOM RHYMES. 
 
 Although the poetical writings of Joel Alonzo Chandler 
 were profuse and varied, he made no effort to preserve 
 them, consequently, but few were ever published. 
 Some are incomplete and many have been lost or de- 
 stroyed. At the request of numerous friends, the follow- 
 ing poems and "random rhymes" as he was pleased to 
 term them, have been collected and are printed herewith 
 for their more convenient perusal and better preservation. 
 THE CREATION. 
 
 Long before the days of Luke 
 
 Moses wrote the Pentateuch, 
 
 Or, that credit has been his 
 
 For lo! these many centuries, 
 
 (Jenesis and Exodus 
 
 Followed by Leviticus, 
 
 Next the book of Numbers see. 
 
 Lastly Deuteronomy, 
 
 Bearing on their many pages 
 
 Tidings of earth's earliest ages 
 
 And by inspiration given 
 
 Unto Moses straight from heaven. 
 
 Various subjects of his pen 
 
 Antedate the time of men;. 
 
 Tell of things before the race 
 
 Of mankind on earth had place; 
 
 Tell the thoughts of God, when he 
 
 Only, filled immensity. 
 
 Tells the work on each day done, 
 
 When creative power begun. 
 
 Space to form and worlds to make 
 
 And for six days without break 
 
 Kept at work and wide awake. 
 
 In the sixth days work we find 
 
 God created humankind, 
 
 Male and female all complete 
 
 With the whole world at their feet, 
 
 Then with statements as to food 
 
 He pronounced them "very good" 
 
 And well pleased with what was done 
 
 Took a day for rest. First one. 
 
9 
 McQUEARY'S HERESY. 
 
 Say — what has this McQueary done, 
 
 That fame should give him such a run? 
 
 Why do you ask? 'tis plain to see 
 
 That he is charged with heresy. 
 
 Now what is that? is it a crime? 
 
 Has it been known before this time? 
 
 Does every pious person kick 
 
 At a suspected heretic? 
 
 One charge against him was, that he 
 
 Held views of Christ's paternity, 
 
 That divers "Wise men of the east" 
 
 Would not agree to in the least. 
 
 Has it been known before this time? 
 
 It has — in every land and clime 
 
 By those conceited ones who rest 
 
 In their assumed perfection blest. 
 
 Their kicking foot is always free, 
 
 Their mark to hit is heresy. 
 
 Now is it possible that we 
 
 Some great enlightenment shall see. 
 
 Because his sense of duty wrought 
 
 The free expression of his thought? 
 
 In his arraignment it is said 
 
 That he has preached his disbelief 
 
 Of resurrection from the dead 
 
 As now accepted by the chief 
 
 Priests, rulers, bishops, churchmen, high 
 
 In Episcopal Christianity, 
 
 And he has made of them a scoff 
 
 So they propose to cut him off. 
 
 But for the time of half a year 
 
 The sword may hang: if it appear 
 
 That by that time he has come back 
 
 Creedbound; to go along the track 
 
 Approved by those who censure now. 
 
 If he his errors disallow. 
 
 And bring himself to proper grade 
 
 In line on gospel dress parade. 
 
 They will accept his service then. 
 
 Will let him pray and preach again 
 
 And give a pardon most refreshing 
 
10 
 
 For thus correcting his digression. 
 
 He sets it forth in his defense 
 
 That he has not the evidence 
 
 That Jesus was the only man 
 
 For whom a new peculiar plan 
 
 Was made, that he might enter in 
 
 And save this world from death and sin. 
 
 That as such messenger of good, 
 
 He owed to God his fatherhood. 
 
 Of woman born the only one, 
 
 God's first and last begotten son. 
 
 What testimony does he lack? 
 
 What must he have to keep the track 
 
 The pious in the past have trod 
 
 Believing that it lead to God? 
 
 In the dim past when earth was new, 
 
 When symbols, thoughts and words were few, 
 
 With very small development 
 
 And with that little quite content. 
 
 In ignorance of natures laws, 
 
 Kelation of effect and cause, 
 
 They thought as other children do 
 
 And it might, or it might not, be true 
 
 The early history of the race 
 
 Ere written language had a place, 
 
 No earthly power could record, 
 
 So inspiration from the Lord 
 
 It is alleged, did guide the hand 
 
 Of writers, and divine commands, 
 
 The history of Genesis, 
 
 Of earth and all that therein is — 
 
 And other things both great and small 
 
 But inspiration wrote them all. 
 
 'Tis so declared, 'tis so believed 
 
 And humbly, thankfully received. 
 
 Among the words inspired is read 
 
 Of resurrection from the dead, 
 
 And in the creeds it has a place 
 
 Of much importance to the race 
 
 Who travel on the christian road 
 
 And worship in the christain mode. 
 
 The reverend defendant failed 
 
11 
 
 To teach that dogma — and assailed 
 It as an error wanting proof 
 And from its teaching held aloof 
 And wanting proof, prefered to be 
 An unbelieving iSaducee. 
 
 WHAT WE ARE WAITING FOR. 
 
 Waiting and waiting long day after day, 
 
 Waiting to hear what the jury will say: 
 
 When ended the racket, and finished the show, 
 
 That is known as the trial of Charles J. Guiteau. 
 
 For tirst degree murder the reprobate stands. 
 
 The President's life blood yet red on his hands, 
 
 He owns and admits he committed the crime, 
 
 Rut was moved and controlled by God, just at that time. 
 
 'Tis hard to endure, as endure it wcmust, 
 
 While everything decent is tilled with disgust. 
 
 To see the parade the vile murderer makes; 
 
 And the airs he puts on, and the license he takes. 
 
 The newspapers give to their readers each week, 
 
 Reports of his sayings, and doings, and ''cheek," 
 
 And his chatter so endless and insolent too — 
 
 (yourt and jury might well wish the trial was through. 
 
 He says, **God and I" did this horrible action, 
 
 To lift into power one Republican faction. 
 
 In his blasphemous way, he now claims inspiration 
 
 From God's mind to his mind to 83 save the nation. 
 
 His lawyers declare him a lunatic surely. 
 
 And this one defense they rely upon purely; 
 
 Rut take all his vanity into account. 
 
 And liis lunacy shrinks to the smallest amount. 
 
 This dainty assassin — this high-toned dead-beat — 
 
 This boarding-house jumper — this shyster — this cheat, 
 
 Presumes the attorneys to scold and reprove 
 
 For speaking of muri)p:k; he says, "Say remove." 
 
 So week after week, in a Washington court. 
 
 This blood stained assassin makes devilish s])ort; 
 
 And we wait all those legal formalities through, 
 
 To know what that jury is going to do. 
 
12 
 
 IN MEMORIAM.* 
 
 'Tis five and forty years, old book, 
 
 Since first within my hand I took 
 
 You, new and clean, without a dot, 
 
 Or blemiHli, or a "beauty spot;" 
 
 Like Uncle Hiram's love which gave 
 
 This book to me, wherein to save 
 
 The cherished music, which we played 
 
 Together ere this book was made. 
 
 And faithfully I've copied here 
 
 Tunes okl and new and every year 
 
 Have dearly loved at times to play 
 
 The music in this book today 
 
 AVith store of tunts complete and full 
 
 iSelected and original; 
 
 On every pag.? is witness to 
 
 The work I set myself to do. 
 
 Dear Uncle Hiram went away 
 
 And found his grave in Fl(>rida 
 
 Since then a score of years have flown 
 
 And 1 am waiting here alone 
 
 From him, l)ut with beloved friends 
 
 Wliose kindness every hour extends 
 
 And gilds the sunset of my days 
 
 With Love's bright, cheering, goltien rays. 
 
 ^' The above lines are written on the fly leaf of a man- 
 uscript music })( ok with the following inscription: — 
 "This l)ook was began in A. I). 1845, and has been filled 
 with music selected and original by J. Alonzo Chand- 
 ler, only c()mj>leting the work this 18th day of Feb- 
 ruary A. D. 1890 — 45 years. To my dear son Francis 
 M. Chandler, I give this book as an expression of my 
 good will anti love to him and of my appreciation of 
 his love and good will to me." "LTncle Hiram" was his 
 mother's brother Hiram Smith who was born in 
 Washington, Vt. Aug. lo, 1809 and died at Tampa, 
 Fla. in 1869. He was a musician in Co. E. 7th Reg't. 
 O. V. I. in the war of 1801-05. 
 
13 
 SOUNDS IN THE ^'MARCH OF TIME" 
 
 (a reverie.) 
 
 Within a valley lone I stand, 
 
 Where mountains rise on either hand; 
 
 Whose woods of evergreen surround 
 
 Their heads, which seem like monarchy crowned: 
 
 While far below the sunlight shines 
 
 On ocean's face in glinting lines, 
 
 As when old friends together mctt, 
 
 And joyfully each other greet. 
 
 The varied sounds borne to my ear 
 In long vibrations, pleased 1 hear. 
 They seem the throbbing, pulsing chiiue 
 Of the eternal marcli of time. 
 And as I listen — come the moans 
 Of natures grand cathedral tones. 
 In melodies like those which rang 
 When ''morning stars together sang."' 
 
 The sounds of breeze and bird and bee 
 
 Come mingled in the harmony 
 
 With eagle's scream, and dove's low call, 
 
 And sound of distant waterfall; 
 
 And with a chorus clear and fine, 
 
 The dwellers of the marsh combine 
 
 Their many voices, wild and free, 
 
 In joyous, spring-time jubilee. 
 
 And evermore, with steady roar, 
 As beat the surges on the shore, 
 Ts heard the deep unceasing soun<l 
 Of ocean's mighty bass profound; 
 While echoing over land and sea, 
 The thunder adds its minstrelsy. 
 And rolls its grandest song of praise, 
 Resporisive to the lightning's blaze. 
 
 There blends with these, on land and sea, 
 
 The sounds of human industry. 
 
 That speak with highest eloquence 
 
 Of man, and his intelligence. 
 
 As it has been, so must it be 
 
 From century to century; 
 
 Witli strength and majesty sublime, 
 
 Moves on the endless "March of time" 
 
14 
 
 To the members of Company H.: ITTtli. 
 Ivegiment O. V. I., at their reunion held at 
 West Richfiekl, Ohio, September 1st. I.s<s2. 
 
 In reunion once again 
 
 Worthy comrades, who have been 
 
 Wearers of the army blue. 
 
 By the bands magnetic, strong. 
 
 Held in cordial friendship long, 
 
 Meet as brothers tried and true. 
 
 Old time memories rise once more, 
 Bringing back the days yore. 
 While each well remembered hicv, 
 With the hands whose hearty clasp, 
 Close in fervent friendly grasp, 
 At this meeting time and place. 
 
 Memories of the time when wt; 
 
 As a soldier company, 
 
 Mustered to our Nation's aid; 
 
 And once more our pulses thrill 
 
 At remembrance of the drill, 
 
 Of the marcli, and dress-parade. 
 
 Memories of those scenes of strif*-, 
 Struggles for our Nation's life; 
 When the prize we battled for. 
 Was for Union, Freedom, Peace; 
 Which rebellion swore should cease 
 By arbitrament of war. 
 
 In our Nation's hour of need, 
 
 Wlien the war was war indeed. 
 
 Then our (lovernmant's stern call 
 
 Roused each patriot ciiizen. 
 
 Filled its ranks with loyal men. 
 
 All to tight and some to fall. 
 
 Somt! — to fall in battle's line, 
 iSome — in hospitals to pine, 
 Some — with scars that yet remain — 
 By the perils, which we shared, 
 Dangtrs, we together dared — 
 To their homes returned again, 
 
By such toils and service done, 
 
 Was our Nation's victory won, 
 
 And its peace again secured; 
 
 And to-da}^ with pride, we see 
 
 All its grand prosperity, 
 
 Through the hardships then endured. 
 
 To 
 
 Jennie Amelia Chandler 
 
 •11 tlie eighteenth anniversary of her birthday 
 
 Eigliteen years ago today, 
 So I heard your mother say, 
 You appeared, and in your way 
 Tohi us ''that you came to stay.'' 
 
 Time has swiftly passed sini-e then. 
 
 And the sixth of May again 
 
 Comes, and brings of your birthday, 
 
 Eighteenth anniversary. 
 And today there comes to you 
 Legal privileges new. 
 Such as come to us, when we 
 Reached our own majority. 
 
 But the lovo that hailed the <lawn 
 
 Of your life, is not withdrawn; 
 
 Still it lives to aid and bless 
 
 And rejoice in your success. 
 So your mother prays, ''that you 
 May be useful, good and true; 
 So your father prays — and then, 
 litith together say — "Amen !" 
 
 AUTOGRAPH ALBUM LINES. 
 
 I lay upon this shrine 
 
 An offering of mine; 
 
 A wish, that days and years may bring to ytm 
 
 A light, to help you see 
 
 The truth that makes you free. 
 
 And keeps you free to do the good a!i<l true. 
 
16 
 DECORATION DAY. 
 When the month of May, with its roses gay. 
 Brings the time of our Sacred Festival, 
 Our love still burns as our memory turns 
 To the past war diys when our dear ones fell. 
 We look away to that former day, 
 And recall the names which our loved have borne : 
 And we feel once more as we felt before, 
 When ourcherished ones from our arms were torn. 
 It was in the days, when the battle's blaze 
 Gleamed red, where the blue and the gray were crossed : 
 When Grant and Lee strove for victory: 
 And a cause was won, and a cause was lost. 
 That the calls were made which must be obeyed ; 
 When the arms of every patriot citizen 
 Were raised in their strength , and their blows, at length . 
 Brought peace to the land, and the war to an end. 
 With the war cries cease rose the songs of Peace: 
 And the praise and prayers of the church and state, 
 Were devoutly paid, and thanksgiving made. 
 For the days when love shall do more than hate. 
 The surviving ones, who had faced the guns. 
 And had shared the dangers of camp and strife. 
 With the scars they bore, had returned once more. 
 And marched to the sounJ of the drum and fife. 
 But the undertone of the widow's moan 
 Was heard, in the pauses of the fife and drum. 
 For the husband gone, she had leaned upon 
 For help and sui)j)ort, that no more could come. 
 And the mother, too, for her son so true. 
 Felt the pangs of grief where her pride had been: 
 From each household band of this broad, fair land, 
 Were some missing ones, who came not again. 
 But a welcome glad the survivors had, 
 As they home returned when the war was o'er, 
 And the tribute free of their sympathy 
 For their comrades dear, who could come no more. 
 Was freely shed for the honored dead, 
 And for those who mourned for the brave ones lost: 
 And together they keep Memorial Day, 
 To recall the past and recount the cost. 
 
17 
 
 So a day was set; and we keep it yet, 
 
 As a solemn time, in tlie month of May; 
 
 When we celebrate, and we decorate 
 
 With floral crowns, and banners gay. 
 
 Where their gravesjwere made, and their forms were laid 
 
 That we held so dear; for 'tis love that keeps 
 
 The memory of the sleepers there; 
 
 And 'tis hope that smiles, while affection weeps. 
 
 As to-day we stand in our own fair land, 
 
 Where the j)eace of years hath its blessings shed. 
 
 We can see with pride, in the States so wide, 
 
 That progress rich has been o'er them spread; 
 
 And that warfare's woes were painful throes, 
 
 That should bring the dawn of a better day; 
 
 And we hold it well, that we meet and tell 
 
 Of the war's results, on this day of May. 
 
 IMMORTALITY. 
 
 We shall meet no more on this earthly shor^' 
 With the loved one gone, with the loved one gone. 
 And our hearts are sore while our eyes brim o'er 
 For the vacant place at our hearth and home. 
 'Tis the law of life that this mortal form 
 Shall be gathered back to its native dust; 
 That the soul of man must again be born 
 And in higher life learn a higher trust. 
 It is that triumphant and holy time 
 When we leave the known and launch away 
 For that unknown shore and that blessed clime 
 Of which we've heard and for which we pray. 
 Where we hope to meet in a union sweet 
 With the loved of ours who wei-e called to go 
 From this earthly life to that safe retreat 
 Whose visions of glory have thrilled us so. 
 
 QUESTION. 
 Why do dreams and visions fair. 
 Make us wish to enter, where 
 All our loved ones, who have passed 
 From our sight, find rest at last? 
 
18 
 
 KXTKACTS FROM DIARY FOR APRIL KSUl. 
 
 I 
 
 ■ Tis the tirst morn of April days. 
 A look of oloudiness and luize 
 O'erspreads the sky and seems a sign 
 That winds and clouds will soon coml>ine. 
 To bring a generous wealth of rain 
 And wash the face of earth again. 
 To make the swelling buds advance 
 Released from their last winter trance. 
 
 II 
 The second day of April now ^ 
 
 Is beaming on us and each bough 
 Is gemmed with beadlike drops of rain 
 That fall and are renewed again, 
 As from the clouds their watery stores 
 II<mr after hour unceasing pours. 
 
 III. 
 Day number three turns out to be 
 Equipped with clouds like yesterday, 
 But coldt r blows the western breeze, 
 'Tis almost «)ld enough to freeze. 
 The sun at noon has warmed it more 
 Again the rain begins to pour, 
 
 IV. 
 Day number four comes into view 
 With nature clothed all clean and new 
 In a mantle of snow, which comes gently down 
 And whitens every street in town. 
 That's what it does, there it will stay 
 Till wind and sun shall melt it away. 
 Already is the work begun 
 And a few short hours will see it done. 
 
 V. 
 Day number live is present now, 
 When worshipers devoutly bow 
 In synagogue — perhaps alone 
 Hold sweet communion with the Throne, 
 Send thanks and praises for all good 
 Received, enjoyed and understood. 
 "He needs no special place of prayer, 
 VVliose hearing ear is everywhere." 
 
19 
 
 VI. 
 
 The sixth morn comes and brings the day 
 
 That calls the voters all away 
 
 To do the duty which each man, 
 
 Who is a faithful citizen 
 
 Will not allow to go undone, 
 
 Nor trust it to some otlier one, 
 
 But feels as if himself, is he 
 
 Whose vote must help bring victory. 
 
 VII. 
 Word comes this morning April 7. 
 Republicans have captured heaven. 
 Politically speaking so. 
 Because the Democrats all know 
 That Rose is in and Farley out 
 And now the impulse is to shout 
 Hurrah for Rose, our Mayor — he 
 Has now the opportunity, 
 To use his power and influence. 
 (Jombined with his well known good sense 
 And faithfulness to fill the place 
 Of Mayor, in these days of grace. 
 
 REVERENTIA. 
 Infinite Spirit of Life, 
 Infinite Power Divine, 
 Infinite Fount of Intelligence, 
 Fount of this soul of mine. 
 
 From the eternity past, 
 
 Into the present I come, 
 
 Into tliis world of humanity cast, 
 
 Here for a season my home. 
 Hereby thy poAver I stand, 
 Here by thy life I live, 
 Here 1 am learning thy law's command, 
 Honor and glory to give. 
 
 Blessings surround my way, 
 
 Blessings to me are given, 
 
 More than I know, or can think, or say, 
 
 Making a foretaste of heaven. 
 
20 
 PARAPHRASE ON GENESIS 2-17. 
 *'In the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt 
 surely die." 
 
 Was the inspiration true? 
 What it threatened did it do? 
 What was the excuse they framed 
 When, all naked and ashamed, 
 And expecting to be blamed, — 
 Heard the voice at cool of day 
 Calling them to "come this way" 
 Why, like simpletons they said: 
 "We were naked and afraid." ^ 
 
 Then came out the question hot- 
 Did you eat that fruit, or not? 
 And the timid, new made man. 
 Thus his weak confession ran:- 
 "T'was the the woman which you made 
 To be with me, she, who laid 
 Samples of the fruit by me 
 Looking nice as fruit could be, 
 Smelled and tasted splendidly; 
 She advised me just to bite 
 And was sure 'twould be all right. 
 So I gnawed it to the core. 
 Saved the seeds to raise some more." 
 Then the Voice the woman called, 
 She was frightened and she bawled :- 
 "T'was the serpent that declared 
 If we ate we would be spared. 
 And he seemed so kind and mild 
 That I surely was beguiled 
 And I acted like a child 
 Who is always pleased to see 
 Something handsome on tree; 
 And to let it waste would be 
 Nothing like economy." 
 Then the serpent was reproved- 
 Had his legs and feet removed, 
 And, to make it worse 
 On him fell the bitter curse :- 
 "On thy belly shall thou go, 
 Cursed above all cattle; low 
 
21 
 
 And degraded, and the tread 
 Of mankind shall bruise thy head ; 
 And thy enmity to feel, 
 Thou shalt only bruise his heel. 
 And the woman, she shall be 
 Servant to the man; and he 
 For his living, work and sweat 
 Till he pays for what he ate." 
 
 IN COURT. 
 There was something quite amusing 
 In the chatter and the clatter 
 And the pompous way of using 
 Many words for little matter. 
 That the lawyer so exceeding 
 "Highfalutin" in his pleading, 
 In his argument regarding 
 Who on deck was "promenahding" 
 Seemed to satisfy that jury 
 That the whole was sound and fury 
 Signifying— nothing. 
 
 * «♦ ^ -^'^ 
 
 THREE SCORE YEARS. 
 Three score years of time are mine, 
 One is gained since fifty nine. 
 What may be in store for me 
 Patiently I wait to see; 
 But the past has come and gone, 
 It was future once, but came 
 Hour by hour and day by day 
 So my years have passed away. 
 Wonderful is life to me 
 Great its splendid mystery. 
 All the future comes at last 
 To be present, then is past. 
 
22 
 
 THE NOMINATION. 
 
 Some history in rhyme. 
 
 There was a day when delegates, 
 
 From each of the United States 
 
 Together met to nominate 
 
 A Presidential candidate. 
 
 Chicago was the the chosen place, 
 To make selection for the race. 
 To that convention, every man 
 Was counted a republican. 
 
 High, honored names of noble men 
 
 Were urged for that distinction, then, 
 
 By orators, in speech most rare, 
 
 Who spoke their worth and virtues there. 
 
 Each had his steadfast friends who came 
 And voted for him just the same 
 At every call; still hoping he 
 Might soon win the majority. 
 
 But words and votes alike were vain; 
 
 None from the other's friends could gain: 
 
 But each remained, as all could see, 
 
 In obstinate minority. 
 
 His many friends then voted for 
 Ohio's new made senator. 
 Which proved a most succesful plan; 
 And James A. Garfield was the man. 
 
 The nomination then was made. 
 
 The grand endorsement on him laid ; 
 
 Convention work was nobly done, 
 
 Election work was just begun. 
 
 THE ELECTION. 
 
 With speeches wise and sound, 
 With argument profound. 
 
 The parties orators their work began; 
 Brave Hancock was the pride 
 Of the democratic side, 
 
 But Garfield was the man-republican. 
 
23 
 
 Each incident of life 
 
 Was told of in the strife 
 B7 friends commended, and by foes condemned; 
 
 And politicians lies, 
 
 Were thick as summer flies, 
 And buzzing like them to the very end. 
 
 Election day had passed 
 
 The votes had all been cast 
 The counting officers their work had done; 
 
 And soon 'twas fully known 
 
 And honestly was shown 
 That Garfield was the candidate who won. 
 
 EXTRACT FROM DIARY FOR FEB. 7th. 1891. 
 An invitation came to me, 
 In afternoon of yesterday, 
 With pleasant hint and information 
 That if, without too much persuasion, 
 I would consent to play a tune 
 On violin that afternoon. 
 And hear the speeches and selections 
 Of items new and resurrections 
 Of old time ''chestnuts," which have done 
 Good service in the line of fun, 
 For generations three, or four, 
 And point enough to go once more. 
 But that old ''fiddle" tried to "balk;" 
 Its "A" string quite refused to talk, 
 And Swigert trembled as he took 
 His "fiddle," with beseeching look, 
 And carried it away to mend 
 Its strings, till it was right to lend. 
 Then he returned it back to me. 
 And then we i)layed tunes two or three; 
 Miss Reed the organist and I 
 Did what we could musically. 
 The R. C. H. S. * girls and boys 
 Will not forget our joyful noise. 
 
 * RICHFIELD CENTRAL HIGH SCHOOL. 
 
24 
 
 THE JOURNEY TO OPIIO. 
 Among the best remembered things 
 Borne from the past on memory's wings, 
 Is the experience I had 
 When I was yet a little lad, 
 Eleven years had shone upon 
 And life had been a quiet one: 
 For then my parents deemed it best 
 To leave New Hampshire and "go west," 
 And to the fair Ohio state 
 Prepared themselves to emigrate. 
 One fine September afternoon, 
 We harnessed up the black and bay 
 And everything was ready soon 
 To say farewell and drive away. 
 The preparations all complete 
 Each in the wagon took a seat, 
 The parents two and children three, 
 Were all of our small family. 
 Farewells and hand shakes soon were done, 
 Our faces turned toward the west: 
 Our long journey was begun 
 And that first night our welcome rest 
 At Uncle Sto well's home we found 
 In Rockingham, State of Vermont; 
 And when next morning westward bound 
 We said, *'good bye" to Uncle, Aunt 
 And cousins four — and then we went 
 Across the mountains green 
 And sundown saw at Arlington. 
 So on we went, day after day, 
 Drawn by our faithful black and bay, 
 Across the Empire State we passed. 
 The Keystone State came next and last 
 And thus for more than twenty days 
 We traveled on the western ways, 
 Till on Lake Erie's southern shore 
 We reached a city — one that bore 
 The name of Cleveland, and where we 
 Found shelter with a family 
 Of dear old neighbors, we had known 
 In bruve New Hampshire's land of stone. 
 
25 
 EXTRACT FROM DIARY FOR AUG. 14th. 1891, 
 Nearly half the eighth month gone 
 And today the rain comes on 
 Like a benediction rare, 
 On the earth and the air. 
 In the forenoon, silently 
 To the house of mourning, we 
 Went and listened solemnly, 
 To the words of song and prayer 
 And the sermon uttered there; 
 To the scripture lesson read; 
 To the exhortation said 
 By the brother, young in years, 
 To the relatives in tears. 
 And we listened as we sat 
 On the ground and held our hat, 
 To the earnest preacher's word 
 That did seem almost absurd. 
 That the cause of death is sin; 
 Now I could not take that in 
 Only as as a fable old, 
 That has many times been told. 
 
 LINES TO J. F. A. RAIDER 
 of Newaygo Mich. 
 My friend of the days of the long ago. 
 My friend of the years that have passed since then; 
 I welcome your line and your shadow so 
 And remember those good old times again. 
 If months and years on their course have rolled 
 And our meetings few and far between. 
 Our friendship has kept like the pure, pure gold 
 That tho' dim outside, is all bright within. 
 
 MY GRANDFATHER'S HAT. 
 My grandfather's hat was a yellowish tinted brown. 
 Of the finest beaver's fur this hat was made 
 And its generous width of rim and its lofty hight of 
 
 crown. 
 Made a grand display on Sunday dressparade. 
 
26 
 
 MORALITY. 
 
 Human justice pure and true 
 
 As you wish done unto you, 
 
 As you wish your rights respected, 
 
 See that no one's are neglected. 
 
 Let each person have their due, 
 
 Right to live comes with our birth, 
 
 Grandest right known on the earth. 
 
 No one has the right to slay 
 
 And a life to take away. 
 
 All mankind are equal there, 
 
 No one is superior 
 
 To his fellow human being, 
 
 And this fact when clearly seeing 
 
 Makes a wall of safety round 
 
 Every person; but the bound 
 
 Of that safety is removed 
 
 When a person charged and proved 
 
 With a murder of his kind. 
 
 Showing that the proper mind 
 
 Was so much demoralized, 
 
 That the right by none possessed, 
 
 Wrongfully had been assumed 
 
 And its exercise presumed 
 
 Most unjustly — and the wrong 
 
 Rouses many to resent 
 
 By swift, certain punishment, 
 
 For the highest, darkest crime 
 
 Known to mortals — and the time 
 
 Fails to show tliat wrongs are righted 
 
 When the rights of some are slighted. 
 
 When a looker on assumes 
 
 That because one wrong is done 
 
 The right way to balance it, 
 
 Is to do another one 
 
 Of the same grade as the first, 
 
 Possibly immensely worse. 
 
 Many wrongs are only wrongs. 
 
 Never reaching to the right. 
 
27 
 JESUS TO NICODEMUS. 
 "Verily, Verily! I say unto you— Ye must be 
 born again!" 
 
 When comes the hour of mortal pain, 
 
 The holy hour of spirit birth, 
 
 When we no longer can remain 
 
 As dwellers here upon the earth; 
 
 That is our grand triumphal day, 
 
 When we are called to ''come away." 
 Into the realms of higher life, 
 Freed from the burden of our clay 
 Past all earth's trials, storms and strife, 
 Our spirits walk the heavenly way; 
 And clear to us the meaning then, 
 This truth — "Ye must be born again." 
 
 For as they list the breezes blow; 
 
 We hear and feel, but see them not, 
 
 Nor whence they come, nor where they go. 
 
 So is the change upon us wrought. 
 
 Without this change we cannot see 
 
 The heavenly kingdom's mystery. 
 
 Oh, mortals! lift your eyes and see, 
 How grand is life's eternal law, 
 Tliat gives us immortality 
 With the first breath of life we draw; 
 And power divine and wisdom willed 
 That all the law must be fulfilled. 
 
 WHAT THE POETS WRITE. 
 
 [unfinished] 
 One poet says, in soothing psalm: 
 ''There is a calm for those who weep. 
 Another writes these words of balm: 
 "He giveth his beloved sleep." 
 The holy rest that waits to bless 
 The holy life of righteousness; 
 Another poet, old and gray. 
 Gives this, for comfort on our way: 
 
28 
 
 "Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell, 
 The dear Lord ordereth all things well." 
 And now that dear, old poet gray 
 Whose words have lightened many a way, 
 Sees by his low descending sun, 
 That his earth life is nearly done. 
 That soon his spirit eyes will see 
 The portals of eternity; 
 Where he shall enter into rest 
 Companion of the good and blest. 
 
 NIGHT AND DAY. 
 Earth's shadow at evening so softly comes down. 
 Enveloping forest and meadow and town; 
 And those who have labored all day in the light, 
 Are called to their rest by the beautiful night. 
 In majesty, splendor and strength comes the day, 
 As the sun marches forth like a king on his way; 
 Ambition and action all day do their best. 
 Till the beautiful night brings the season of rest. 
 In grandeur and glory the sun shines alone, 
 A monarch is he on his radiant throne; 
 But the shadows of evening displayed to our sight 
 The wonderful glories of beautiful night. 
 In the broad light of day, but one world and one sun 
 Can be seen by us mortals, — but when day is done. 
 The clear sparkling stars and the moons silver light, 
 Shine as gems in the crown of the beautiful night. 
 May it be so with us when our life's day is o'er. 
 And the Angel of Death bears our souls to the shore. 
 Where immortals are gathered, -that blessedness bright 
 Transcending the glories of day, or of night. 
 May illumine our way, and reveal to us there, 
 In the land of the blest, in the mansions so fair, 
 Our loving and loved, gone before from our sight, 
 And grant us glad meeting in heavenly light. 
 
29 
 MEMORIAL DAY. 
 When the pleasant month of May 
 Glides along its yearly way, 
 Bringing from the wealth of spring 
 Treasures of the fields and woods, 
 Gardens, groves and solitudes, 
 For a vernal offering; 
 Then her treasure, fresh and fair, 
 Cull we with the tenderest care, 
 For the love-gifts which we bring 
 To the well remembered graves 
 Of our parted soldier braves. 
 Where their dust lies slumbering. 
 And upon each grassy mound. 
 Mournfully, to music's sound 
 And the solemn voice of prayer. 
 Leave our floral crowns and tears, 
 With our loves of by-gone years, 
 Tributes to the sleepers there. 
 Glad we give the honors due 
 To each worthy comrade, true. 
 Who returned to us again; 
 For their duties nobly done, 
 For the victories they won. 
 As our soldier citizens. 
 In the future coming years. 
 When "Memorial Day" appears. 
 May they long be spared to stand 
 At the front upon this day. 
 That we one and all may say — 
 "Blessings on the faithful band." 
 And the old love wakes once more. 
 For our brothers as before. 
 Kept by faithful memory; 
 While their service we relate, 
 And their graves we decorate, 
 On this anniversary. 
 
WRITTEN IN 1893. 
 I have almost reached the bound. 
 Of my three-score years and ten 
 And I question — have I found 
 Reasons good and wise and sound 
 For the wish that many men 
 Have — to be a boy again? 
 
 Not found. 
 
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