/-7 ^" ^^. "J .^^ :< "-n.-o^ '^.^ .0 .^" ROSEMA RY SECOND EDITION ROSEMARY BY Qyde Robe Meredith and" PRIVATELY PRINTED On The Hollywood Press BALTIMORE. 1803 75 33-2.^ ilo^ - ! A3,? CL, Wfi. "1.-;.| 1 3 t>. t ^- Copyrighted 1903 by The Authors. All Rights Reserved. CONTENTS A Maiden who lived in Bel Aire, Meredith. A Ballad of Contradictions, A Dapper young chap from Duquesne, A Tale of Woe, " Blessed is the man, Don't kick a man. Don't Knock, Elfs Boots, Webster. Glaucus and Scylla, Meredith. Honor, and Fame, „ Indian Summer, Jonas Tubbs, Webster. Loving Faith, My Wish, Meredith. Olaf The Fortunate, 0, My Love's the fairest maiden, " Pygmalion And Galataea, „ Silence is not always golden, „ Story of a Clock, Webster. Sorrow doth make kinsmen, Meredith, Sometime, „ The Stream, „ The Asymptote, „ To Leuconoe, „ The Daisy's Lament to the Wind, Meredith. The Song of The Sirens, „ To Florida, Webster. To Thaliarehus, Meredith. There onee was an old maid named Baxter, „ The Preference, „ The fate of the Tove, „ The wieked Mad Mullah of Swat, „ Vanitas Vanitatum, „ Woman, Webster, Warp and woof, Meredith. TO OUR READERS WE take great pleasure in presenting this edition of Rosemary in its improved form, feeling sure that all will consider it vastly su- perior to the first edition, both in mechanical workmanship and in literary excellence. Our best efforts have been put into the work w^ith much more gratifying results than ^vere achiev- ed from the first edition; although that brought forth comment of a most encouraging nature, and far beyond our expectations. The literary tone of the present Rosemary has been agreeably heightened by seme alter- ations and additions deemed necessary to attract book lovers who particularly value writings of a classical nature. Mr. Meredith's transcriptions from the Greek have amply satisfied this taste. To those who Vv'ould read in a lighter vein, the w^ork affords abundant relaxation, thus blend- ing the whole in harmonious lights and shades that must appeal alike to the mental and the physical sense cf the reader. —The Publishers. MY WISH OH! not in scorn, and not in mockery, Adown Life's dreary pathv^^ay would I walk To gape with curious eye, and selfish heart Upon the endless throng of men; each one Dull eyed, and sick at heart. Faith gone; and Hope Sunk deep in sullen, blank despair, since all Their effort but recoils upon themselves. Men follow Duty, Wisdom, Pleasure's smile And soft seductive voice; but all in vain: The prize is always just beyond the grasp. Sad, sad and weary is the day of Life; And few enough the sunbeams bright that pierce The arching clouds and light the desolate way To w^here, beyond the gateway of a life More full, more bright; each heartfelt longing, vague And unfulfilled desire shall know for aye Fruition full; and blank despair give place To joy forever in the Better Land. Oh! let me shed some joy along the v/ay; Some downcast heart lift up; some mourner cheer, I'd think my life well spent; count this my great Reward; rest satisfied whate'er of good Or ill the future held in store for me: Could I but know some weary, lonely one Had seen the way grow bright; could I but bring One hearty laugh to lips long drawn with pain. ELI'S PATENT BOOTS /OP'^] LI "WHITTLE was the greatest in- ventive genius ever was in our neighbor- hood. He was a young man who al- ^isy ways seemed to be on the study; and something usually came of it, too. 7ith the tools given him «/ old by cAthena, he v/rought patiently at his task. C Long and patiently he wrought; and, under his skillful hands guided by the Sea-born goddess, the stone grew into a form qf wondrous beauty. Slowly, slov«;ly, chip by chip the cold marble fell away, until at last the image of the Divine goddess stood unfolded in all gf its radient beauty. so true and lifelike was the statue that Pjrgmalion almost fancied it to be endowed vAXh life. Tall, slender, perfect in form and feature; as it stood there in all ^ its divine beauty; a beauty excelling the beauty g^ mortal women, even as the light of Phcebos excells that of his sister, Selene; Pyjj- malicn gazed and gazed; his whole soul enraptured until his heart, inspired by Aphrcdyte exclamed: "Art thou human or divine? Art thou the work of my hands, or art thou some nymph g/' the lonely mountain-side whom m.y hands have released from these marble bonds? Tell me, oh most beauteous maiden! dost thou live and breathe? This gentle breast that I clasp so reverently to mine, does it throb with the blood of life? " C Day after day the Queen of Love filled his heart more and more with the beauty of his work, until on the day when the fruitful Year had brought once more the pleasant spring-time, Pygmalion was fain to entreat the Sea-born goddess, even at her sacred shrine, to breathe the breath of human life into his statue of her. Thrice the sacred flame leaped sky- ward as a token that his prayer was heard; and accepting the happy omen, he returned to his abode. C. Going swiftly to the couch w^here he had laid her with tender care, he knelt and raised the statue in his arms. C Did her heart beat, or was it but the beating of his own anxious heart? "Were his kisses re- turned? Again and again he pressed his glowing lips to hers. What is this? Do her eyelids trem- ble? Oh joy! they open. Those glorious eyes look into his for an instant, then are ca^t down. S'owly, f'lowly they are again raised and Iook into his with the tenderest love and joy; while the delicate blush sT maiden modesty veils her lovely face as she sinks into his passionate embrace. C After awhile he speaks in accents gf won- drous joy: "Galatsea shalt thou be called, because thou shalt become the mother of a pure race; and in thee shall our land be restored." And he kissed her, stroking with loving hand her silky hair which covered them both as with a bridal veiL €L Slowly raising her face to his, and placing her arms around his neck, she whispered in accents of the most melting tenderness: " Py*6- malion, oh my beloved! " While all the hosts of Olympos voiced the Paeon of joy. THE ASYMPTOTE See how the gentle asymptote Delights to dance and sing! He frisks around and 'round and 'round As gay as anything. He courts the modest circle, and Is always faithful, yet He's doomed to dissapointment, for He never can her get. THE STREAM I fain would lie where daisies grow; And balmy winds in gladness blow Among the leafy trees; And o'er my head, sweet, soft, and low, The drowsy horn of bees. Thus would I rest, nor would I sigh To see the hours wing swiftly by As in a fading dream; But watch the fleecy clouds on high Glassed in the quiet stream. The stream that glides 'neath mossy banfej And creeps through grass and lilies rank; Where bends the alder low: Then 'neath a rustic bridge of plank With swift and quiet flow. To where, 'neath shade of giant pine* The placid cows at ease recline From heat of noonday sun. Then on again, like sparkling wine The crystal waters run, Until at last ihey reach the mill That stan<^s beneath the grassy hill With old and moss-grown walls* Then o'er the wheel that ne'er is still The bwsy streamlet falls. And dashes on with foam and spray To where the speckled beattties play In pools deep, calm, and clear; Then through the forest, old and gray; And thence into the mere. The quiet mere that gathers all The treasures of the stream, and all Safe hides beneath its wave: Ajs we glide down Life's stream, and fall At last into the grave. Beside that streamlet would I lie. And watch the hours wing swiftly by As in a fading dream; And trace the fleecy clouds on high Glassed in the quiet stream. Honor, and fame, and glory usually are the re- wards of mediocrity; while true greatness often is forced to rest satisfied with the consciousness of duty well done. SOMETIME Sometime, dear love, we'll meet, and then FII know The meaning of these half formed hopes and fears. Sometime, dear love, the son will pierce the gloom That hides the brightness of the passing years* Sometime, dear love, tbowgh when I cannot know. My heart will find its lonely way to thine, My ear will catch the music of thy voice. And I shall clasp thy waiting hand in mine. Sometime. IVe never seen thy gentle face, dear love, But I have felt thy heart beat close to mine* And sometime, in the coming years, dear love. My longing eyes shall gaze their fill in thine* And only in the quiet hours, dear love, IVe heard thy voice ring softly through the night. But still I knov/ the future holds thee safe; And we shall meet, and faith give place to sight, Sometime* THE STORY OF A CLOCK KE Czar sat on his throne, thinking. It was a habit he had when not oth- ^erwise occupied. Ke was considering who in the Empire should be killed 'off, when suddenly the clock struck seventeen. The Czar looked up quickly. A puzzled, then alarmed expression crept over his face, probably because ^it could not creep over his back. 'Great Czarina," he cried, "why does the clock strike thusly? Away!" he shouted to the Court attendant, "and send Count The-stars-sky, the vAst man, here at once. If he is not be- fore me in one moment, you lose your empty head." C The luckless wight flew to do his master's bidding, and in exactly fifty-seven CSi, one-half sec- onds, Count The-stars-sky stood before his roy- al Nibs. *'What wouldst have, oh most mighty one," said he. C "Art wise enough to tell what time it is when the clock strikes seventeen?" queried the Czar. C The Count scratched his head and replied: 'O great and noble ruler! I am wise in many things, and on matters of both the earth and the heavens I am out of sight, but I confess that I cannot answer your last question." C Then the Czar was exceeding wroth and or- dered four clashes of the Court cymbals, where- upon, four strong men appeared. He motioned them to seize the poor wise man. "Take yon- der fool to the chop-house, and hang his mis- erable head on the West gate of St. Peters- burg." C Days passed, and still his Highness medi- tated. At last he wrote a circular and had it posted throughout all the Russias, saying that he who could answer the vexing question should be made rich; but if he failed the first time, — off should go his head. €L Many came and tried, — and failed; until the Royal Chopping Machine got so far behind in its orders that the butchers had to stay up nights and work overtime; and yet the mystery was not solved. C At last a poor young fellow called at the im- perial gates, and asked admission. The guards looked him askance, for he Tvas a very meek man, and they felt that it was only more Vi^ork for the poor, over-tasked meat men. However, according to the Czar's orders, he was admitted to the surly monarch's presence. C Then came the old question: " Can you tell me what time it is when the clock strikes seventeen? '* All the courtiers waited with bated breath. " It is time, Most Noble One, that the clock was fi::ed " Came the instant reply. C Th^n ti2 cloal fill from the Czar's face, and he fell upon the poor man's neck and wept. He also shed tears. " For your wisdom, " said he. " You are made the richest man in the provence, and be- sides the many roubles I shall bestow, you are also made chief wise-man of my court. " C So Tinker-the-clock-sky lived happy ever after- ward as a brainy man should. LOVING FAITH C It is not alone the fact you love someone, that makes you happy; infinitely more precious is the knowledge that you are beloved. To know that, following everywhere one may go; whate'er one may do; goes the faithful love of one to whom his every wish and thought is sacred; this gives one a warmth <^ depth of feeling otherwise un - known. It places him above the mere sordid strivings of everyday life, and builds a w^all about him which will save his blundering feet many a mis-step. C This, then, is the love of woman for man; more to be sought after than great riches; and seldom or never found: yet, once attained, it is wide enough, and deep enough to hide a lifetime's trials, making of them but a mockery w^hen placed side by side with the shining light of a happiness which shall blaze a pathway even unto Eternity. HORACE'S TO THALIARCHUS See where Soracte stands enrobed In white* and deepening; snow; And how, beneath their burden* coId» The trees are bending low. And clear Digentia's busy stream; How smooth it is* and stiH: Fast bound by icy chains hurled down From yonder distant hill. But come! Pile high the glowing hearth With logs of Aiban pine; And draw* my Thaliarchus* from The Sabine jar of wine* Leave cruel "Winter with its storms Unto the gods whose care It is to calm the ocean wild* And thaw the frosty air. Inquire not of Tomorrow what It holds in store for thee; But what of good each day may bring — Rejoice that good to see. And while thy youthful blood glows waro^ Taste of gay Pleasure's store: — Sweet loves* the dance* — enjoy them alh Past youth returns no more* Soon to the iieliis and quiet lanes Win evening bring a throng Of joyoas, CMC-itcc girls, and boys, Each with a merry song* Then will the happy vows be paid In stolen kisses sweet; And soft, delighted whispers mark Where youth and beauty meet. TO FLORIDA Florida in springtime — Jasmine's mantling vine, Balmy air, and music. Glasses filled with wine! But weHI be widely scattered Ere the days draw near When roses red make summet The love-time of the year. Blessed Ss the man who never expects fitiything; for he shall not be dissapointed. THE SONG OF THE SIRENS A -TRANSCRIPTION ^A^ET and clear comes the song across the calm iEgaean sea, as the swift ship •speeds gracefully along under the bright loon-day sky. The captain anxiously 'scans the horizon. Again comes the echo I of that magic song, and the captain shud- ' ders as he hears it. He knows: The very |^vise Odysseus — for it is he — know^s full well the meaning of that enchanted lay. 'C It is the Sirens singing: Singing a song of home and loved ones; singing to entice the unwary sailor to a cruel and treach- erous death. For those who hear that song are maddened by its sorcery, and lured farther and farther from their way until they perish miserably on a barren and rocky shore. d. Full well Odysseus knows this, for naught of wisdom may be hidden from him. Yet a daring thought crosses his careful mind: — He will hear the Siren's song, and yet escape all harm. C Quickly calling his dear companions around him and telling them gf their awful danger, and of his daring plan; he seals their ears with wax, while they in turn bind him firmly to the mast. C The ship speeds on. Louder and louder gro-w the voices, and sweeter and clearer the song. Nov/ Odysseus can hear it in all of its magic beauty; and his brain reels with delight. Vainly he strives to loosen his bonds, but they hold fast and he cannot escape. C Now they are passing the mystic isles, and he can even distinguish the words gf the wonderful song. It is a song gf home: A song of Ithaka— the sunny island he has not seen for twelve long years. C And now he hears his own dear wife; the glori- ous Penelope, sing; and weep as she sings, that Odysseus returns no more to his waiting home. " Odysseus is false! Odysseus hath forgotten! Od- ysseus cares no more for his wife, and child, and home in sunny Ithaka. Odysseus hath forgotten! " C " Let me go! Loose my bonds. Let me fiy to her kind and loving arms. Let me see her beaut - eus face once more before I die. O my wife — my \vife! " wails Odysseus, forgetting that his compan- ions cannot hear his cries. €L But now^ they have passed the enchanted isles, and the song grows fainter and fainter as the proud ship speeds onward over the glassy sea. And now the voices have ceased altogether, and the very wise Odysseus signals to his dear companions to loose his bonds, since all danger is at an end. C Unstopping their ears; and raising a paeon gf joy to the eternal gods; Odysseus sails away: — The only man who ever heard the Siren's song and lived to tell the tale. INDIAN SUMMER There's x iecliag Gently stealing: Through the short and haty day — West wind blowings Plainly showing Us that Summer's gone away* Leaves are falling; Plovers calling Through the dry and russet grass» Flowers dying; Thistles flying On the zephyrs as they pass. Pumpkins yellowing; Apples mellowing; Chestnuts falling all around; Andf a solemn Sentry column^ G>rn shocks guard the frosty ground. West wind sighing For the dying Flowers that deck bright Summer's toalt^ And still flyingr Flying, flying From the morn 'till evening's gIoom» Come ihc feathered Legions gathered By a word from Winter's motith, To the flowers, And the bowers Of the warm and sonny sooth. A SONG Oh! my love's the fairest maiden Ever made a home rejoice With the sunshine of her presence. And the music of her voice. Oh! her eyes are like twin pansies. And her lips like rose-buds rare, And a very snare of beauty Is her long and wavy hair. Every atom of my being Trembles into sweetest rest When my weary head is pillowed On her warm and fragrant breast. And her heart is mine forever; Yes, forever and a day; And ni love her 'til the heavens And the earth shall pass away. OLAF THE FORTUNATE ALLEGORY ORN in the rugged Northland ^vhe^e the Ice King holds his sway; he was tall and lithe, and strong. Fair of face, with eyes blue and clear as the depths of a rock- bound fjord, and hair that shone with the glint of burnished gold; he was bright and beau- tiful as some old Norse god. C His mother, in the love of her heart, called him " Olaf ; " for she said " he will be a ccmfcrt to my old age. " And as he grew to manhood, he was filled with all the wisdom of the Elves, and Fays; and his hands ^vere cunning with all the skill of the Gnomes; so that through all the length ard breadth of the land, wherever he was known, he was called *' Olaf, The Fortunate; " because whatsoever his hand touched, that tiling prospered exceedingly. C After a while he went to school; unlike his hum - ble playmates who knew naught of learning and books: w^here he drank deeply of the stored up wisdom of the age.s A poet born, he possessed wondrous skill in music; and his pencil could seize the very soul of beauty and hold it for all time. C But the spirit of the Vikings was in his heart, and the spirit of the sea was in his blood; so, with never a word of farewell to those who had surrounded his youth with joy, he left the pleasant valley that had sheltered him for so long, and ran away to sea. C For many years he made the boundless sea his home; visiting strange lands, and meeting strange peoples, and learning their v<^ays of life: and many, yes, many fair women smiled upon him, and bade him cease from his wanderings, and many true friends he found who bade him stay with them: but the spirit of unrest was ever upon him, so that no charm could bid him stay, un- til at last, youth gone, and the strength of man- hood failing, he, no longer poor and unknown, sought in a far off land for the peace which he had not found upon the sea. C For once, upon his wanderings to and fro upon the waste of waters, he had sees a wo- man's face. Fair and sweet; with blue eyes, and golden hair; Olaf knew at last what it was that his life had lacked for so long: knew at last the mean- ing of the vague but insistant longings that would not be stilled: knew at last the meaning of the lone- liness, and unrest that had made of him a wander- er upon the boundless deep, and had urged him ever on and on toward the illusive goal of peace and contentment. So now, no longer poor and \xn- known, he left the sea for a land far from the place of his birth; and there, amid a strange people* he sought and found his bride. C For a time he was very happy. His wife was very beautiful; and with no care to vex him; he was still " Olaf, the fortunate " , and his life seemed very bright. C But after a while his sky grew dark. His wife, inconstant as fair, grew tired of her husband's love. His ways were not her ways, and no bond of sym- pathy had grown up to hold them heart to heart; so that little by little they drifted asunder, until, at last, the parting came, and Olaf was left alone. C Then " Olaf, the fortunate, " too old to form new ties: and like a plant uprooted by the fierce storma of winter; drifted down the dark tide of despair ever faster dnd faster until, at last, he sank into a name- less grave; old, and poor, and alone. Silence is not always golden: sometimes it is a brazen lie. Don't kick a man when he is down: you are not dead yet. THE DAISY'S LAMENT TO THE WIND "Whisper no more thy sweet stor 7s: — Storys of pleasure and love. Murmur no more the soft music Learned from the tree-tops a!;ovc. Fresh as the dew of the morning Resting a-whilc on my heart, G)me thy glad wings through thesilcncej But all too soon they depart. Leaving me nothing but sadness: Stealing the joy from my day, — Even the bees from the forest Jeer as they haste on their way» Fickle and faithless forever, Wandering hither and yon. Ever forsaking the old love. Heart in the keeping of none. — Whisper no more thy sweet storys Unto my sorrowful heart. Sing not. — or singing, stay with me. Never for aye to depart. STORY OF JONAS TUBBS ALWAYS thought Eli "Whittle was pe- :uliar in some ways, but he wasn't patching to old Jonas Tubbs; lived Sn the same township with him all |his life and aint never figured out iow he came to die. for of all the Itamation contrary men, Jonas was the contrariest. He would do every- thing he could to spite other folks, and when anybody tackled him about some of his funny doings, he would (always have a reason. I believe he fcwas the most onreasonable reasoner I ever see; ' t was terrible exasperating. ^C However he came to get married was a mystery to all us town folks; but he 'did. I remember when he first brought Mary Har- din that was, home as his wife, and a mighty smart little woman she was, too. Quiet and neat, and tended too her ov/n business all the time. ' Nothcr thing the neighbors couldn't understand; how she lived with Jonas all them years, for the older he got the queerer and more contrary he acted. Mary stood it all Like the true christian woman she was, and tended him til the last breath left his contrary body. C They lived in a tumble-down stone house, and as 'bout all Jonas knew was work, she seldom got away from it. Jonas' father had a new frame house half finished when he died suddenly. Somebody asked Jonas why he did n't finish it and he said " because my father left it that way." CNever went to church, or saw the circus " because everybody else went." Never was on a train; and I reckon ten miles would reach farther than he ever got away from his birth-place. C. He did n't smoke, or drink; and was never known to have any fun except once, when somebody coaxed him to a camp-meeting. While there, Deacon Weathersby's hired men took him in tow, and afore he knew what was happening, Jonas was drunker than a fool. Cut up awful; and when Mary seen him she thought he had gone plumb crazy. No- body ever seen him that cheerful since. C How he could work! Any man that stayed more than a month with Jonas was a mighty good fel- ler. His horses was three old plugs, and he actual- ly worked 'em to death at the same time keeping • " colt " in the pasture fifteen years " waiting for it to grow up." €L Deacon Weathersby's farm was right next to Jonas and a fine place it was, too. He and the Deacon had trouble over the line fence and Jonas always hated him after that. , I 'member one sum- mer that he did most all his haying at night, least- wise all he could, " because he didn't want that old varmint to see how much hay he had. " C Well sir, things went along this way for years. Jonas all the time getting more onreasonable and crabbed, and working harder all the time. It be- gan to tell on him pretty severe 'long toward the last; got dropsy in his feet and legs so bad he couldn't hardly cripple around, but kept to work and would't take no medicine. Kad a terrible sore on his left breast that got worse and worse; worked all through harvest in that shape, Mary all the time begging him to see a doctor. He said "it come of itself, and it could go of itself; he was not going to monkey with it. " C One night Mary went to the neighbors, unbe- knownst to the old man, for help. They locked him in his own house and then went for Doc Trav- ers. "When he got there Jonas was hobbling a- round the room, trying to get out, and raising Cain. Doc tried to quiet him, but the man had been contrary all his life; wouldn't listen when he was sensible, and now he had no sense at all. He fought 'em off for awhile, but his strength give out and Doc made a try at getting him into some kind of shape again. 'Twas no use; he was too far gone and soon died. C Course, it was tough on Mary, but a man had- n't ought to be so blamed contrary. VANITAS VANITATUM €L Behold! as for man, he is as a leaf that is tossed by the wind: Yea, the storm -wind catcheth it up, and it findeth no place of rest. €L Sorrow and dissapointment is his portion thru- out all the days of his life: And when his end ap- proacheth; it is to rot, and be forgotten. C Behold! oh man, the exceeding vanity of all thy wisdom; it is even as a puff of smoke: The wind sporteth with it, and lo! it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. C Give ear, oh man! Harken and understand! God is, and he alone shall endure. All else is as the mist of the morning which the sun scattereth afar. The Son ariseth, even the Son of Righteous- ness; and all things else shall pass away. A maiden who lived in Bel Aire Had trouble in combing her haire. So she slamed the comb down, And said with a frown: I'll have it cut off: so thaire! GLAUCUS AND SCYLLA A "TRANSCRIPXION OW gloriously bright the day was! Ho-w warmly the summer sun shone •down upon the laughing earth! And ^ilhov/ cool, and inviting seemed her clear ^^tountain to Scylla, tired of her sport! I Since early mom had she roamed over grassy hill and dale, and through the [peaceful aisles gf the dim and hoary for- est, in search of the fairest flowers to ^deck her glossy hair. Sweet and happy, and of wondrous beauty; still was her heart her own, for no man had ever yet taught her the smiles and tears of f love. Reclined at ease upon the cool green sod, her head pillowed on one pearly arm, her half-closed eyes gazing wistfully over the crystal w^aters qf the blue /Egaean rolling far away into the distance before her; she was suddenly startled from her pleasant reverie by a strange apparation. Slowly a figure raised itself from the bottom qf the quiet sea before her. A strong and noble head crowned wnth a mass qf hair long and green as the sea-weed; a calm and god-like face; a large and brawny chest; colossal shoulders; long and graceful arms; but lower limbs indistinct, and formed for use under the water rather than upon the solid earth. "What art thou?" gasped the astonished nymph. " A god? " Surely thou art not a mortaL Such a form would ill become a dweller upon the solid earth. " " Glaucus was I called among men. Glaucus skilled in casting the net, and in taking the fiinny wealth of the teeming sea. But one day in ftow- ery spring a strange thing befell me: drawing my nets as usual, I had thrown the scaly fish upon the grass at my feet. Suddenly the panting and al- most lifeless fish began to nibble at the grass about them, when lo! their strength returned to them, and they all, with one accord, leapt back into the waiting sea. Tasting of the sacred grass myself, scarce had I swallowed the grateful juice ere I felt the wondrous change. Into the willing sea I plung - ed to be met by the hoary Poseidon himself who raised his hands in prayer and freed me from every stain of mortal life. And for thee, oh most beaute- ous nymph! have I left my rosy palace in the midst of the glassy sea. For I saw thee, and love thee, and desire thee for mine own," But the beauteous Scylla fled from his prof- fered embrace; nor was he, being freed from all stain of earth, able to follow her; but sank slowly into the depths gf the wavy sea; his heart torn by somber grief. But soon he bethought him gf Circe, wise and artful enchantress: and going in haste to her glo- rious island palace, he gave voice to his sorrow and desire. " O Circe! Mighty daughter gf the glorious C^ all-seeing Sun! Powerful enchantress! \Vise; and skilled in all the arts gf magic! Incline thine ear to my prayer; and accomplish for me my desire: Grant that Scylla, most beauteous gf all the daughters of Oceanos, may hearken unto the voice of my love!" Thus he stood praying with uplifted hands; CBi the daughter of the glorious and all- seeing Sun kept silence for a space. But soon the Artful Goddess spake in this wise: " Glaucus, child of the foamy sea, approach! " Obeying the command, he advanced and stood by the golden portal of her palace, when she again spoke. " Glaucus, child of the foamy sea, look! " And he w^as fain to shield his eyes from the splendor of the vision before him. Tall, and radi- ently fair, she stood; her starry eyes shining upon him; her face lit by a smile of w^ondrous sweetness and beauty; her fair w^hite arms outstretched in supplication; Glaucus trembled for very fear of her beauty as she stood before him. " Very beautiful art thou, oh daughter of the glorious and all-seeing Sun! yet I love thee not. Far more fair to me is the sweet face of the happy and innocent Scylla. Fare thee well. " " Fool! Barest thou to liken thy pitiful nymph to me? And dost thou prefer her love to mine?, " exclaimed the artful goddess with angry scorn. " Go! Return to thy pitiful nymph! She will not scorn thy love; nor will she resist thy embrace: oh thou blind and ignorant tool! " Leaving the sacred island of the artful goddess Glaucus went pensively along the pebbly floor of the wavy sea. Scarce had he reached his own happy domain ere he was met by the hosts of his ftnny subjects, each bewailing in his own tongue the aw- ful thing which he had just beheld. A creature of horrible deformity had sunk to the bottom of the sea in their midst. Gazing in pity at the shapeless mass before him, Glaucus spoke: " Who, and what art thou? oh most unfortu- nate one! And who hath wrought this woe upon thee?" " Sc3^11a was I called of mortals. Scylla whom thou didst frighten by the ardor gf thy love. And it is Circe, most powerful daughter gf the glorious and all- seeing Sun who, because that she was not able to win thee to herself, has wrought this woe up- on me. Ten thousand years must I abide in this wretched state until another shall come, compell- ed by the love gf the chaste Selene, herself, who shall set me free, and place me within thy kind CSl, loving arms. " Thus Scy^Ila.. But Glaucus wanders up and down, up and down, ceaselessly along the peb- bly floor of the wavy sea; waiting, waiting, for the fated time to come. HORACE'S "TO LEUCONOE Nay! do not seek, Leuconoe, Thy future state to know; Or what of good or ill the Fates Upon thee will bestow. If health and wealth are given thee, And friends, and length of days; Fill up thy cup and drink, and shout The joyous song of praise. But if this day shall bear thee on Beyond the tide of years; Still sing thy song, and drink thy wine, And drown in joy earth's fears. ^ ^ Biographical F. HARRY E. WEBSTER THE subject of this sketch is a nat- ive of Onondaga county, New York, " the land of big red barns, " as he himself puts it. A few years after his birth, the Webster family re- moved to North Dakota (then Dak- ota Territory) , where his boyhood was spent, he having lived on the plains for nearly ten years. It was while attending the Fairview School that Mr. Webster first ventured into the realms of literature. Together with Charles Chester Christie, the Fairview News, a school paper, was launched. He and Christie published it several seasons, mean- while dreaming of the time when they would own a genuine newspaper; the dream was never real- ized, for in 1890, Webster moved to Mason City, Iowa, and entered the office of the Fxpress-Rejnibli- can. He worked on this paper for a short time as " devil " and contributor with varying success, and again " struck the trail, " this time for Baltimore Md., where he obtained employment with a rail- road company. Christie went to Reynolds, North Dakota, mastered the printer's trade, and establish- ed the Buxton, (N. D.) Enterprise, being at the age of nineteen, an editor and publisher. His death came shortly after and robbed the profession of a brilliant mind, and Mr. Webster of his best friend and future partner. The winter of 1895-6, was spent in New York State. Always interested in ev- ery new venture in the journalistic field, he became a regular correspondent of the De Ruyter (N. Y.) Ameriean. This paper had a short and exciting ca- reer of one year, W^ebster returning to Baltimore. In October, 1901, Mr. Webster conceived the plan of establishing an amateur press for the print- ing of small original booklets, all the Tvork to be done by hand. Mr. Meredith was a willing partner and the idea was carried into effect by the founding of The Hollywood Press. Several leaflets and poems were gotten out, followed Christmas, 1902, by the first Rosemary, which met with such favor that the edition, of which this is a part, became possible. CLYDE ROBE MEREDITH After the man had gone away, Meredith said: " Yours is all right, but who is going to write mine? " So I volunteerd to do it myself, if he would give me a icvf pointers. Meredith is a blonde, with wide-spreading arms a high forehead, and an intense longing for food. Aside from his books, there is nothing he grows enthusiastic over more quickly than the mention of something to eat. He was bom in Mt. Pleasant, Iowa, about thirty-two years ago, and left that place very shortly afterward. I never learned whether it was chickens or the rent. He has never been back. He was raised, principally, on railway trains. In this respect, he differs from almost everyone else; I have heard of babies raised on Eagle Brand con- densed milk, and they became " birds " later on, but Meredith is the pioneer in using railway trains to hurry him along toward manhood. Although bom in Iowa, he is of William Penn Quaker stock, C8l> naturally drifted to Pennsylvania, where his boyhood was spent in acquiring an appe- tite and such other information as came his way. He tells me that his education consists of " pick- ups. " For a man with such a smattering of know- ledge he does real well, and in time will be able to write breakfast food poetry. Early man- hood found him in Baltimore. I say "found him," for he admits, himself, that it ^ ~^ was awfully cold ln~f<^efi^<_ ^^^^*' ijj that box car the last night, so I suppose some one must have found him; maybe the brakeman. In order to further enlighten the indulgent reader, I have drawn some pictures of Mr. Meredith in life-like poses. I merely mention that I make my own illustrations, be- cause I do not care to have unnecess- ary litigation with either Messrs. Gib- son or Christy. You will note a riot of red occurring in this book at spasmodic in- tervals; that's Meredith. He loves it and when festooned with a tie brilliant enough to burn holes in his shirt front, is extremely well pleased with himself. In justice let me add that red ties, with him, do not mean cigarettes also, the latter being generally known as a red tie's travelling com.pan- ion. When he smokes at all, it must be either a choice production of the tropic isles or his old re- Mrn+in^ ^ f oCrrv liable briar, loaded with fragrant leaf. Meredith is musically inclined, but does not often attempt to lift up his voice in praise. He says he was a right good singer at one time, but lost his voice one night while on his way home from a party and never recovered it. In fact, nei- ther of us sing often; the last time we tried it to- gether, the family said either they would move, or we would have to. •^TV****^^^ But my, my! here I have let my pen run on and on, until I have laid Meredith's entire career bare to the public gaze. Should he ever run for office, and his political enemies get hold of this, his fate would be sealed; but he asked me to do it, and now, upon reading the first proof, says he is more than satisfied. —F. Harry E, Webster. H2A? 70 ^^7 ^^ ^^ A. x> % -1 O * A* ... "-^ ^•-' ^° V C 0^ "ov^ .^^ o V ^^^ .^" A J. * ^ '^^ * T^V 1 • * ^ Deacidified u! , ^ ^. ' \v Neutralizing a ^', •^. ^t*-i Treatment Da .■^ 0>. *«,-,•* o^ Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. ■<^-. ' v* Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide •^ ^ ^ t*-i Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 \\ ^v °M PreservationTechnologies '°yyy * *'""-d leader m collections presebvatioh o 'v ' ' ^ Thomson Park Drive • ^ Cranberry Township, PA 16066 0^ ^ .-^ ^^--^ ^0 vO ,*°x'-^ B^)^ N. 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