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Rev, Geo. A, Watson's 
 
 POEMS, 
 
 -)ALSO(- 
 
 A DISCUSSIOH OH 
 
 UNDAY Law, 
 
 Observance and Amusements, 
 
 A TREATISE 
 
 OETRY. 
 
 '<-£/ri 
 
 i ^ 7 V I- 
 
 \D'*Fvrhiv\*'''^ 
 
 i^'Y 
 

 Entered according to act of Congress, in the year of 
 1884 by Rev. Geo. A. Watson, in the office of the Librari- 
 an of Congress at Washington. 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 
 
ST.^LOUIS 
 
 THE 
 
 Future Great. 
 
 The most intrusive sway of dumb creation, liapp'ly now for ever 
 
 passed, 
 Succeeded by fair freedom's work, among Earth's most encliant- 
 
 ing beauties classed. 
 To higli perfection nicely wrought, adorning gems in Future Great 
 
 amassed. 
 
 -^1882.'^.^ 
 
To S. H. Laflik, who delighted views, 
 
 th' improving City's vast increase, 
 This Work respectful most, 
 
 I DEDICATE, 
 and now from pleasing labor cease; 
 To view his civic soul, that from incessant, 
 useful toil, knows no release. 
 
 THE AUTHOR, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The Poem is written throughout in pure Iambic meas- 
 ure, of nine feet in length. Tlie irk | some Pan | oram | a 
 nev I er changed 1 its u | niform | iden | tic view, 
 
 For the proper rendition of poetical composition, it is 
 well to remember, that verses of considerable length, may 
 have one or more Caesura); or demi-Caesural" ' pauses, and 
 in addition, a sentential or a final pause* 
 
 "Where once"' deceitful, fleetest Indian," and the guile" protect- 
 ed snake" were found." 
 
 In the XX triplet, the final pause rests on the word 
 mind. The Author deems it unnecessary to direct the in- 
 telligent Eeader's attention to the fact, chat occasionly a 
 secondary accent is used. 
 
 Perhaps you may find the verses rather long, but leis- 
 ure, a good voice and a clear head, will enable you to do 
 justice to yourself, to the verses, and a pleasure to your 
 hearers. 
 
 *See Bumons' English Grammar, Seventieth Edition, page 284. 
 
 The sweetest Eulogistic verse, 
 
 so well it suits the City grand; 
 That from the early, to the latest Sun, 
 
 her wish, obedience may command. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The following Poem contrasts the present with the past con- 
 clition of Saint Louis, and foreshadows the coming splendor, and 
 the widespread fame and commanding influence of the Future 
 Great. 
 
 Within the City's present limits, the Indian, the deer, and the 
 snake were ohjeets familiar to the Author in his youthful days. 
 He harely alludes to the beautifully sublime spectacle of a prairie, 
 on fire, which hecomes sublimely fearful, whenthelabors of alife- 
 time may be swept away at one fell swoop. Of course, he has nev- 
 er seen a master fire Exterminator, which could hurl a tidal wave 
 over the highest dome ; but gentle and ingenuous reader, remem- 
 ber you are perusing a Poem about St, Louis, the Future Great; 
 and further remark, that though St. Louis is not just now encom- 
 passed by old Ocean's waves, still, you will admit, that this event 
 may take pl.-xce in future ages. 
 
 The literary attainments of the Veiled Prophet's Abode are 
 the means of introducing the Future Great to the favorable notice 
 of the cultivated Chinese. But following closely in the wake of all 
 great cities, crime and corruption have at last worked their way 
 into its inmost life-giving sources. This fact was fraught with 
 danger to the Future Great. Saint Patrick, the Father of a persecut- 
 ed, fearless, dauntless People, moved by the charity bestowed on 
 his dearly cherished children, still abiding amid the shadows of 
 death,* successfully pleads its cause before God's eternal throne. 
 
 Saint Louis, the chivalrous ruler of a warlike Pace, alive to 
 the honor of his name, averts its impending destruction, and pre- 
 serves it, in the very nick of time, from the terrors and the horrors 
 of a raging conflagration. 
 
 GEO. A. WATSOK. 
 
 *The Great Famine of 1847- 48. 
 
St. Louis, The Future Great. 
 
 I. 
 
 Where once, deceitful, fleetest, Indian, 
 
 and the gnile protected snake were found; 
 Where once, th'all speed surpassing deer, 
 
 sprang graceful from the echo of his bound, ^ 
 There shall the Future Great resplendent rule, 
 
 and glory's brightest praise resound, 
 11. 
 The irksome Panorama never changed 
 
 its uniform, identic view; 
 The seasons duly came and passed, 
 
 the shining grass, it never changed its hue; 
 The same events, recurring actions, 
 
 their unvaried, peaceful course renew, 
 III. 
 Soon o'er this monotonic, weary scene, 
 
 a magic working change will rise. 
 The rapid progress of improvement, 
 
 in its forceful, most imposing guise; 
 Of wildest fancy's most alluring dream, 
 
 shall all the wonders full comprise.^ 
 
Attentive view ttie blazing furnace 
 
 to its unexcelled perfection made; 
 Where utilizing raging flameB, 
 
 through undiminished months, have steady stayed; 
 There once resistless, sweeping prairie fires, 
 
 their yearly carnage burnt displayed. 
 
 V* 
 
 Where once the slow advancing pack-horse^ • 
 
 and the weighty wagon weary went; 
 Where anxious months both came and passed^ 
 
 before the advent of the missing tent.^ 
 There shall the Railroad's lightning speed, 
 
 complaints of most exacting soul prevent. 
 
 Where once discordant war-whoop's shrillest notes, 
 
 quick sounded on th' affrighted ear, 
 Where once mistrustful, rested grim 
 
 primeval Chieftain's death portending spear, 
 Cathedrals grand, gay Mansions unsurpassed, 
 
 in dazzling splendor now appear* 
 
 vii. 
 
 Where once, the dusky Chieftain's most aggressive, 
 
 death avenging, frantic dance. 
 Unnumbered victims sought, to quench 
 
 the bloody thirst of his descending lance; 
 There Terpsichore's pacific crew, 
 
 in merry concert thrilling, s^all advance. 
 
VIII. 
 
 Ascending now with giant strides, perfection's heights, 
 
 triumphant lias she reached; 
 Dull speculation's massive, crumbling walls, 
 
 successful has she wisely breached ; 
 The brightest honor of her Merchant Kings, 
 
 no truthful man has e'er impeached. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The Future Great ne'er wrought on adventitious, 
 
 sham delusive, credit's base; 
 She never agitated was, by advent 
 
 of the fitful days of grace; 
 Her honored promise given, unfulfilled, 
 
 no injured man shall e'er replace. 
 
 Judicious credit, founded on the thrifty farmer's 
 
 well inspected gains; 
 Whose gold producing flocks, in shelter found, 
 
 defiance bid to wint'ry rains; 
 The wary lender's long abiding, 
 
 most suspicious trust, secure retains.* 
 
 XI. 
 
 Enraptured viewed the merchants all, 
 the yellow waving beauties of the field; 
 
 To move th' accumulating treasures, 
 that productive soils so freely yield; 
 
 They pensive pondered long, and thus 
 their gain achieving minds, success revealed.^ 
 
w 
 
 XII. 
 
 When tiny streams enlarge tlie swollen brooks, 
 
 then these increase the rivers' speed; 
 And they, in their propitious course, supply, 
 
 what all confess, an urgent need, 
 To commerce healthy, an essential 
 
 and enlivening force, by all agreed. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Admire Missouri® Elver -s unimpeded, 
 
 rapid, headlong, changeful course; 
 Kow see, resistless how he flows triumphant, 
 
 from his marshy lakelet source; 
 And most majestic sweeps before Mound City, 
 
 to her ev'ry claim enforce. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Upon his vast expanded bosom, 
 most exultant. Proudest Kavies ride; 
 
 Of special favored, happy land, 
 and foreign, distant Kations, justest pride; 
 
 In whose progressive, welcome wake, 
 the trophies of enduring peace abide. 
 
 XV. 
 
 The Future Great defiant sweeps the ocean wave, 
 
 her power has never ceased; 
 Th' admiring, endless plaudits, of devoted millions, 
 
 sweetest, daily feast; 
 Stretched far beyond the keenest ken, for Her, 
 
 gulf's ocean's depths, are much increased.^ 
 
——11 — 
 
 XVI. 
 
 From famed Missouri's classic shore, 
 a most stupendous wonder closely view: 
 
 The greatest master piece of Captain Eads, 
 and his mechanic, able few; 
 
 Th' artistic Bridge, the Phenix of this 
 iron age, shall all our joys renew. 
 
 XVIL 
 
 With imabated, ifghtning speed, the model 
 
 stanchest Steamers of the world; 
 At lashing, briny, mountain foam incrested wave^ 
 
 defiance graceful hurled;^ 
 And freedom's merry fashioned banners, 
 
 to th' expansive, wafting winds, unfurled. 
 
 XVIII, 
 
 Fast speed they forward, with the perfumed, 
 
 floated breezes of the Future Great; 
 Swift bearing full perfection's countless, 
 
 varied works, from ev'ry foreign state; 
 And all the flowing treasures of unbounded wealth, 
 
 scarce can they just relate. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 From far Wisconsin's frozen, dreary shore, 
 
 to her the harvest treasures flow: 
 From most romantic Colorador,^ 
 
 where the brightest golden metals glow; 
 From all surrounding, noted Kations, 
 
 who cannot her master skill forego. 
 
12 
 
 XX. 
 
 But what is paltry, enervating, treasure's gain, 
 
 beside the spirit mind] 
 Elastic, which transcending matter's frail abode, 
 
 may rarest wisdom find, 
 And joyous revel in th' acutest thoughts, 
 
 by well instructed souls combined. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Amid such treasures in the Future Great, 
 inquiring, thoughtful mind, may spend, 
 
 A precious hour's improving time, and'truth 
 destructive notions ever mend. 
 
 By gifted books, embellished with the wisest thoughts, 
 that we so well defend. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 From China's flow'ry kingdom, this important, 
 
 most judicious order, came: 
 "Send us four hundred thousand boxes of the bright, 
 
 illuminating flame. 
 And then, the Future Great, the Phenix 
 
 of the present age, we will proclaim. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Our ancient annals speak about Chicago, 
 
 energetic traders' bane; 
 Were branded on their unprotected backs, ^^ 
 
 the choicest grades of diff'rent grain;^^ 
 Impulsive were her people, unabashed, 
 
 not too esthetic, nor profane. 
 
^ — 1^— 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Saint Louis is to us a light diffusing, 
 
 beauty's brilliant, shiny Star; 
 With Pekin famous, our encircled, 
 
 strongly guarded Cities, on a par; 
 Chicago's murky light extinct, a warning 
 
 to the Nations from afar. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Bepublic^^ lasting, sprightly Post Dispatch. 
 
 impressive Democratic Globe;^^ 
 With Dixie's driven snow white cotton, 
 
 and Saint Louis famous silken robe,^* 
 8end us, forget not Santa Fe's unequaled, 
 
 most enduring, cheap abode. ^^ 
 
 XXVL 
 
 And why forgotten was the Watchman 's^^ 
 truth diffusing, most instructive page; 
 
 Which oft severely lashes all the vices 
 of a fickle, venal age; 
 
 And error's death inflicting wounds, 
 with truth's persuasive voice, shall yet assuage. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 That on a certain stormy day in March, 
 
 precise the seventeenth, they state; 
 A man in costume strange^\ appeared, 
 
 and boldly struck the famous Golden Gate; 
 Our truth imparting Annals, further 
 
 in remotest ages, brief relate. 
 
xxviir. 
 
 The Golden, Diamond ornamented Gate, 
 
 it yielded to the Stranger's stroke; 
 And thus in grace's terms entreating, 
 
 to th' assembled, awe-struck Fathers, spoke, 
 The bitter sentence of your condemnation passed, 
 
 most freely I revoke. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 In Erin's famine stricken, dreadest time,^^ 
 the boundless treasures of your love. 
 
 You godlike sent. Then fleet ascended 
 to the heavenly Throne, the spotless dove; 1 
 
 Descended with her olive branch, forgiveness 
 from the Father's Throne above. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 "Destruction's havoc wings swept high and low, 
 announced your fate as nearly sealed; 
 
 Th' Almighty and avenging Hand was raised; 
 the fearful blows had nearly pealed; 
 
 In famine's mutest garb,^^ we solema came, 
 the Judge's wrath was all concealed. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 From sordid pleasure's grovelling, soul destructive, 
 
 most unchristian, sinful ways; 
 Ascend to Him, who passed and present, 
 
 future ages, most supremely sways; 
 The wicked to destruction endless dooms, 
 
 the good, in lasting bliss, repays." 
 
XXXII. 
 
 The Future Great in pure Eeligion's 
 
 unadulterated, pleasing rites; 
 In lofty virtue's highest, most heroic, 
 
 peaceful, elevating flights; 
 Safe places her exalted, most seraphic, 
 
 everlasting, dear delights. 
 
 XXXIII, 
 
 The Future Great, her nascent, vast enduring fame, 
 
 enraptured foreign lands. 
 Acknowledge freely; and most lawless, 
 
 unabiding, fiercest, savage bands. 
 Are justly terror stricken, and obedience yield, 
 
 to her discreet commands. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 
 Hers are th' enchanting, sweet attractive, 
 
 most angelic, gracious ways of peace; 
 Th' imposter's crafty wiles exposed, there's none 
 
 th' enlightened, happy poor to fleece; 
 The bloody tyrant's supplicating slaves, 
 
 undaunted, fearless, dares release. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Degrading slav'ry's fetters cast aside, 
 
 they rise to freeman's happy state; 
 So far removed from vilest serfdom's soul consuming, 
 
 deathless, bitter hate; 
 That thus exultant, may they freedom's favors, 
 
 to delighted sons relate. 
 
XXXVI. 
 
 Prom fierce oppression's unrelenting', 
 
 diabolic, soul engendered fire; 
 To raise tormented, agonizing' man, 
 
 to dearest honor of a Sire; 
 What grander, more enohling prize, 
 
 could wild ambition's quenchless soul desire? 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 'Twere nobler far, to raise him high above himself, 
 
 vile earth's ignoble bliss, 
 To love's ecstatic, peace enjoying, heavenly kingdom, 
 
 sun ly more than this; 
 Where purest love's unbroken feast secure, 
 
 intruding fear may all dismiss. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 To deep oblivion long have passed, the simple 
 
 garments of the former race; 
 Now scarce admission would they gain, 
 
 to knavish beggar's cosy, hiding place; 
 Ko more the pauper's garb in Future Great ;2^ 
 
 his image scarce can we retrace. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 •Devices num'rous have so fashioned works of nature, 
 
 and excelling art; 
 That Future Great became the mistress of all nations, 
 
 and their only mart. 
 Alone, the King of Day, control refused, 
 
 his rays destruction would impart.^^ 
 
XL. 
 
 It was a hazy, heated, listless, 
 
 dull Kovember, sleep inducing day; 
 A lurid glare, high over Princely Dome 
 
 and Marble Street, portentous lay; 
 A mournful, thrice repeated signal, 
 
 showed the seething flames in dread array. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Like rapid thunder roar, the master 
 
 fire exterminator of the age, 
 Aloft a tidal foam capped wave,^^ hurled over 
 
 highest dome. The flames, they rage 
 Around the fated council hall, misfortune 
 
 to famed Future Great presage. 
 
 XLIl. 
 
 Th' aggressive flames in curling waves increase, 
 now beauty's Golden Gate they reach; 
 
 Swept flames intense, from N^orth to South, 
 from East to West, in wildest fury each; 
 
 Terrific falls, the far famed Golden Gate, 
 the God of Heaven we now beseech. 
 
 XLIIT. 
 
 The Future Great, what Hero's arm can save, 
 
 the piercing, universal cry; 
 From far horizon's farthest, utmost verge, 
 
 a wondrous, flashing flame, swept by; 
 From it emerged, a visored man, with w^hose behest 
 
 the raging flames comply. 
 
18 
 
 XLIY. 
 
 Exhausted now, relentless fury spent, 
 
 the dazzling Hero's halo crown 
 Divine, they cannot bear; much less Crusader's fierce, 
 
 restraining, deadly frown. 
 A mighty, cheering host, loud greeted 
 
 Saintly Louis, of crusade renown. 
 
 •'~^^V^W>'^<^- 
 
NOTES. 
 
 1. Deer in their wild state are very graceful and extremely agile 
 in their movements. No more beautiful sight in animated nature 
 can he witnessed, than a hand of them in easy motion, rising and 
 descending, Avith elastic and w^avy action, to he changed on the 
 least appearance of danger, with the rapidity of the wind. They 
 rise, they harely touch the ground, and rise again with such elas- 
 tic celerity, that you would almost think they were frightened at 
 the noise their feet made, in touching the ground. 
 
 2. The rapid progress of improvements in its forceful, most im- 
 posing guise, shall all the wonders full comprise, of wildest fancies 
 most alluring dream. » 
 
 3. In allusion to the distant journeys of the early Traders. 
 
 4. Judicious credit, founded on the thrifty farmer's well inspect- 
 ed gains, whose s:old producing flocks, in shelter found, defiance 
 hid to wintry rains, secure retains the wary lender's long ahiding, 
 most suspicious trust. 
 
 ,5. How to transport produce with benefit to the producer and 
 the consumer, is the problem now under consideration 
 
 6 Missouri, not Mississippi, if the resultant character of the two 
 streams, is taken into account. 
 
 7, Suggested by Captain Eads' far famed Jetties at the mouth of 
 the Mississippi River. Having viewed the Grand River and its Na- 
 vies, we next pass to the still unrivaled work of modern times, 
 Capt. Eads' Bridge, which may yet be young, when old Father 
 Time shall have passed away. The Ocean Steamers ascending to 
 the Sea-port Harbor of the Future Great, may next engage our 
 attention. 
 
 8. A beautiful sight, familiar to those, who have seen a first 
 class Steamer rounding to, and sw^an like stemming the sweeping 
 current at full fiow- 
 
 9. Colorado. 
 
 10, "The tanned hide of a Chicago Giant, 7 feet, 7 inches tall ; av- 
 erage circumferance, 5 feet, .5 inches is carefully- preserved in the 
 Royal Museum at Pekin We have always regarded it as a most val- 
 uable Historical Document. On it are branded four different pe- 
 riods of grain grades; seldom however, did the Traders fancy more 
 than one impression of the brands, as the operation was extreme- 
 ly painful. The grain grades were not often changed. 
 
-20- 
 
 11. The choicest grades, etc. From this it would appear, that 
 the grades and the grain did not always exactly correspond. 
 
 12. Republican. 13. Globe Democrat. 
 
 14. This would seem to indicate a marked change in the com- 
 merce of the world. 
 
 . 15. Adobe, an unburnt brick dried in the sun. A word formed 
 by the people of New Mexico from the Spanish adobar. Ihave a- 
 dapted it to our Idiom, by making it a word of two sylables, ac- 
 cented on the second. 
 
 16. Western Watchman. 
 
 17. Saint Patrick, arrayed in his Archiepiscopal Robes. 
 
 18. The great Famine of 1847-48. The dreadful sufferings of the 
 Irish in those frightful years, were too apalling to bear repetition^ 
 
 19. Extreme destitution, indeed, has but few words to waste. 
 
 20. Not literally true, just at the present time. 
 
 21. The City was probably set on fire by the Sun's rays converg- 
 ing on some inflammable substance. 
 
 22. The lashing of the waves, and the havoc of a raging temp- 
 est, added to the horrors of the fearful scene. Of course any intel- 
 ligent reader will easily perceive, that the above description re - 
 lers to a possible condition of the Future Great. 
 
 -^ 
 
SAINT CASIMIRS 
 
 HYMN 
 
 TO THE 
 
 BLESSED YIRGII 
 
 From the Latin. 
 
 1881. 
 
TO 
 JESUS, MAEfr, JOSEPH. 
 
 THEEE 
 MY DEDICATION, EVER 
 
 BE. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Sacred song is the language, in which the soul, elevated above 
 the worry of a care -stricken world, speaks to her Creator, and 
 holds, as it were, secret intercourse with Him, and gives free vent 
 to her anxious longings alter a more permanent, blissful abode> 
 enlivened by the ever recurring and exultant outpourings of the 
 extatic inhabitants of the Heavenly Sion, From the frequent men- 
 tion of song in the Holy Scriptures, we feel conscious, that it is 
 nicely adapted to supply a spiritual want, experienced by the hu- 
 man soul, during her sojourn in this valley of tears. The Jewish 
 people seemed to have been constantly reminded of the assist • 
 ance,to be derived from this harmonious adjunct to the weakness 
 of the human mind. " It speaks pf the Song of the Cherubim aiid 
 the Seraphim; of the Song of the four and twenty Ancients ; of the 
 Song of the tour living creatures of Ezechiel;of the Song of the 
 blessed souls. And when the Son of God, made man for us, came 
 upon the earth, then was the Song of Heaven made audible to mor- 
 tal ears, and the Angels sang, and the Shepherds listened,* "Glo- 
 ry to God on high, and peace to men of good will." The Canticle 
 of Canticles, of the wisest of men, but too plainly indicates to us, 
 the high esteem in which we should hold this heaven inspired, 
 and heaven- descended favor. Sacred Song then, is emphatically 
 a gift from God, aptly suited to raise our minds to a lively fore- 
 taste of the beauty, and the goodness of Almighty God. 
 
 Bidding farewell to disquisision, let us now rather turn our 
 attention to the beautiful Hymn of St. Casimir to 'the Blessed 
 Virgin, a Translation of wliich follows. 
 
 This, better than words, will explain what is meant by Sacred 
 Song. The Translator has endeavored to embody' m his Transla- 
 tion the Author's leading ideas. In addition to these, the de- 
 mand of a poetic translation, necessitated the introduction of 
 quite a number of secondary ideas, whose presence the intelligent 
 Reader will not regard, as marring the beauty of the Original. 
 From the very nature of the subject, a repitition of words and 
 ideas does occasionally occur. The punctuation, at times, may ap- 
 pear faulty, but its correct application, the choral, or poetic, ear, 
 
 * Bishop Elder 
 
will easily perceive. The aivision of the even verses of the coup- 
 lets, into two equal parts, will render the use of this Hymn in 
 Choirs, extremely easy. Where this arrangement was found im- 
 practical)le,the first words in italics, of the odd verse, will indicate 
 the required change. And here, I claim the privilege of acknowl- 
 edging my indehtedness to my young friend, Wm. Garesche, Esq., 
 who has rendered me valuable service in the preparation of the 
 Preface. 
 
 Church of the Holy Name of Jesus, 
 October 1st, 1881. 
 
SAINT CASIMIR. 
 
 Saint Oasimir, son of Casimir III, King of Poland, and Eliza- 
 beth of Austria, was born at Cracow, October 3, 1458. He was elect- 
 ed King of Hungary, but excluded from the Succession. 
 
 Having renounced the vanities of the world, he devoted him- 
 self wholly to works of piety, and in these, he spent the remaining 
 years of his life. 
 
 He was especially distinguished for his devotion to the Moth- 
 er of God. In her honor, he composed a Hymn, which begins: 
 Omni die, die Mariae To Mary, daily say. He died at Vilna, 
 March 4, 1484. He was Canonized by Leo X, in 1521. His tomb was 
 re-imbellished in 1604, at which time, his garments were found en- 
 tire, his body incorrupt, and the Hymn, Omni die, resting under 
 his right temple. For further particulars, see the. Bollandists, 
 March 4. 
 
 PRAYEB. 
 
 Oh God! Who in the midst of royal delights and the allure- 
 ments of the world, hast strengthened Saint Casimir with the virtue 
 of constancy, we beseech Thee, that the Faithful, through his in- 
 tercession, may despise worldly desires, and aspire after Heaven- 
 ly rewards. 
 
 Through Jesus Christ, our Lord, who liveth andreigneth 
 with Thee, in the unity of the Holy Spirit. Amen, 
 
Saint Casimir-'s Hymn 
 
 TO THE 
 
 Blessed Virgin. 
 
 I. 
 
 To Ma^y, give thy daily praise, 
 To her, my soul, thy thoughts upraise. 
 Her holy feasts, her actions kind. 
 Be ever present, to thy mind. 
 
 II. 
 Admire her Queen-like, gracious mien, 
 Its living source, the soul unseen. 
 A Virgin Mother's matchless fame, 
 A Mother now, in joy proclaim. 
 
 III. 
 Devoutly, in her service move. 
 Escape from crime's detested groove. 
 Avoid sin's tempest driven shore. 
 Its loathsome wrecks, for evermore. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Whate'er the mighty Lord hath reaped, 
 Hath us upon, most bounteous heaped. 
 This generous Queen, of heav'nly grace, 
 Has favored ev'ry human race. 
 
30 
 
 V. 
 
 Kelate a Virgin Mother's deeds. 
 As gently she, to triumph speeds.^ 
 A cursed and afflicted race, 
 Hast Thou restored, to honor's place. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Give to this lovely, ceaseless Queen, 
 Exalted praise, its brightest sheen. ^ 
 Announce an ever generous mind, 
 And gifts profuse, to human kind. 
 
 VII 
 
 Her glory, in an endless round. 
 The body's aids,* her praise resound. 
 The senses subject, conscious grow. 
 Their duty, do their service show. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Who can of fluent, flaming word,* 
 Her worth surpass, 'twere so absurd? 
 Whose fertile, subtile, active brain. 
 Can worthy hymns, of her obtain? 
 
 IX. 
 
 God's Yirgin Mother, all do prize. 
 With Her they hope, their souls may rise. 
 But not, indeed, to like renown, 
 I^or such a bright, celestial crown. 
 
 X 
 
 To pious liiinds, 'tis very clear, 
 Rare virtue's needs, do so appear, 
 That I and mine, her praise intend, 
 And in her honor, these may blend. 
 
XI, 
 
 Due praise on Mary, to bestow, 
 The wisest minds, can never know. 
 Who keeps her name, and it foregoes, 
 Most senseless he, his folly shows. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Whose holy life, to wisdom bound. 
 Displayed its power, its love profound.^ 
 Who th' unbeliever's shallow craft. 
 Upon its flare, did sure engraft.^ 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Flowers have their proper, varied speech, 
 T% actions' chimes, they cannot reach. 
 Her worthy words, their equal deeds. 
 Are sweetest virtue's, surest seeds. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Eve's fatal crime, had Heaven's approach, 
 Against us barred, at sin's encroach. 
 Submissive, faithful Mary's will. 
 Did souls induce, to enter still. 
 
 XV. 
 
 A vengeful, and a bitter blow, 
 Did haughty Eve, on man bestow. 
 But Mary gracious, leads the way, 
 To happy Heav'n's, eternal stay. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Iq Mary's, ardent love engage, 
 From youth her praise, advancing age. 
 Entreat her, blameless venerate, 
 From early dawn, to evening late. 
 
82— 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Her Son's behest, may She commend, 
 A helping hand, may She extend. 
 At life's eventful, happy close, 
 Our souls receive, to Heaven's repose* 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The brightest glory of thy race. 
 Elected know, to highest grace. 
 Away^ far down, may est sweetly view, 
 The greatest, and the wisest few. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Their voices, in thy service raise. 
 Attentive view, thy servants' praise* 
 The guilty cleanse, and nobly free. 
 Of Heav'nly gifts, they w^orthy be. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Great Jesse's rod,^ and weary mind's 
 Secure retreat, when passion blinds. 
 Eair wisdom's bright, and honored road, 
 The mighty Lord's divine abode. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 In thy pursuits, we goodness view, 
 And grace's fountain, dost renew. 
 God's pleasing temple, ever found, 
 In justice all, thy worth abound. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Hail Virgin! now the gates unbar, 
 To hapless souls, from God afar. 
 Against Thee, vainly was essayed, 
 The serpent's fraud, it long delayed.^ 
 
33 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 King David's, noble daughter fair, 
 Of Heav-nly King, art Thou, the heir. 
 From whom creation, steady flows, 
 Whose hand preserves, it wisely knows. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Untainted, living virtue's stem, 
 A charming rose, a dazzling gem. 
 Who lead'st a Virgin choir elate, 
 To endless joys, a happy state. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Do th' expeditious power bestow, 
 That worthy words, and actions flow. 
 Unceasing praises, may produce. 
 Thy merits' crown, their holy use. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 May mem'ry, all its art afford. 
 Thy frequent praise, its burden hoard. 
 That I Thy glory may so sing. 
 All honor due, to Thee e'er bring. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The death- like silence of my lips, 
 Does plainly show, their guilty slips. 
 Thy favors, silent may not be. 
 Their sinful use, may never see. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Upraise sweet commendation's voice, 
 
 A Virgin's praise; in her rejoice. 
 
 And those, in vice's ev'ry turn. 
 
 Dear freedom's chance, they may not spurn. 
 
— u 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Always most pure, and fruitful most, 
 
 A Virgin Thou, a mighty host. 
 
 A Virgin, yet a mother greets, 
 
 So flow'ring palm, its fruit completes.^ 
 
 XXX, 
 
 Be ever, consolation's pow'r, 
 Thy matchless charms, its beauty's flowT. 
 And from depressing, wearing grief. 
 Its fruit afford a swift relief. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Without the stain of any sin, 
 Fair beauty's boast, art Thou within. 
 Pure, joyful, may we ever be; 
 Thy praises' end, may never see. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Untasted joys, unwonted they, 
 Through Mother Thee, their worth display. 
 Faith's flaming, shining, guiding star, 
 To heav'nly homes, it points afar. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 To Thee, a blissful tribute flows, 
 A grateful world, its duty shows. 
 Forgetful, of its former days, 
 Bereft of truth's consoling rays. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 The rich, in desolation cast, 
 Eeview in grief, their treasures past. 
 As, in thy very words, contained. 
 The needy have, their all regained. 
 
XXXV, 
 
 Tlie wand'ring, crooked ways perverse, 
 Of manuers vile, tlieir deadly curse. 
 Kepelled by tliy protecting hand, 
 Hast forced to seek another land. 
 
 XXXVL 
 
 Beduce the body's vices more, 
 The weary soul, to God restore. 
 To spurn the world, allurements vain, 
 Hast taught, its follies to restrain. ^^ 
 
 XXXVIL 
 
 In virtue's state, and God besought, 
 The mind's pursuit, hast wisely taught. 
 The body's notions to restrain, 
 A heav'nly crown, to thus obtain. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Creater, and Redeemer great. 
 Who led us back, to virtue's state. 
 In chaste enclosure, hast Him borne, 
 Now sorrow's darts, cease we to mourn. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Hast borne a Son, we truly state. 
 A Mother Thou, Immaculate, 
 Creator, Sovereign, present King, 
 Of mighty Lords, and ev'ry thing. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Hast wrecked the wary fiend's intent, 
 Unconquered Thou, thy might unspent.^^ 
 Salvation's hope, relinquished sore, 
 Shines back by pardon, as before. 
 
36 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Of Him, the Mother, sweetly sing, 
 A blessed Lord, unconqu'r'd King. 
 Born nncreated, and of Thee,^^ 
 The Saviour of our race is He.^^ 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Of all despairing souls oppressed, 
 Bepairer Thou, consoler best. 
 Protect from dire affliction sore, 
 The wicked can escape no more J* 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 May not destruction's fearful doom. 
 In fire-fed pool, my soul consume. 
 A heav'nly crown, for me obtain. 
 Its rarest virtues, may I gain. 
 
 XLIY. 
 
 Give freely to th' entreating mind,^^ 
 Celestial gifts, and them combined. 
 Which cure its ev'ry, deadly sore; 
 Its just desires, to it restore, 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Chaste, modest, may I ever be. 
 Dissension's Son, may never see. 
 Attractive, sober, pious, kind. 
 And others' rights, may cautious mind. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Most aptly taught, supremely well. 
 In wisdom's race, may praise 'compel. 
 On guard against the cunning foe. 
 Eight well adorned, with virtue's glow. 
 
—37 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 In all, still seeing naught defiled, 
 Unchanging, grave, and ever mild. 
 Mature and stainless; void of guile^ 
 Forbearing, meek, for all a smile. 
 
 XLVIII, 
 
 Th' unvarnished truth to say and find, 
 A guarded heart, a thoughtful mind. 
 Xo evil wishing, serving God, 
 In holy works, without the prod. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Be Thou the tutrix, aider near, 
 The christian's help, we banish fear. 
 Fix not our thoughts, on things below, 
 Through grace's channels, let them flow. 
 
 Lo 
 
 Above all praises, worthy far. 
 Of shoreless sea, the saving Star. 
 Dost in fair beauty, far outrun, 
 The lightsome orb, and shining sun. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Sustain, relieve, and give the meek, 
 Thy prayer intense, them quickly seek. 
 What darkens, or depraves the mind, 
 Correct, remove, in fetters bind. 
 
 LII. 
 
 A happy Yingin's joy recount, 
 From devil's frauds, we safely mount. 
 A Virgin, and her godlike Son, 
 Restored the Crown, the devil won. 
 
~ 38 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Inviolate, and fniitfiil made, 
 By heav'nly off-spring, art repaid. 
 With modest virtue's, liily crown, 
 Enriched and raised, to great renown. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 For what Thou wast. Thou dost remain, 
 And generating, laiow'st no stain. 
 Dost meelvly nurse, and handle him. 
 From wliom tliy body, soul and limb. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Oh! deign me gracious, to commend, 
 And by thy Son, my soul defend. 
 That I destruction, may escape, 
 From danger dire, my course may shape. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 That I be meek, contention part, 
 Desires rebellious, from the heart. 
 Sin guard against, protection sure. 
 Thus virtue's prize, may I secure. 
 
 LVIT. 
 
 In slavish fetters, be not bound, 
 In worldly lust, be never found. 
 The souls in foUy, that embark, 
 It senseless makes, and doubly dark. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Impede elation's deadly course, 
 Of evils great , the fatal source. 
 Devouring anger's wicked flow; 
 JN'ot madly blaze, with fury glow.^^ 
 
- — 39 
 
 LIX. 
 
 May God's protecting, saving grace, 
 My heart preserve, in virtue's race. 
 Let not the ancient, v^icked foe, 
 Sow noxious seeds, of sin and woe. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Belipf afford, and speedy aid. 
 Thy feasts, our daily study made. 
 Tliy actions may w^e holy blend. 
 Do Thou our souls, from foes defend. 
 
 LXl. 
 
 liaise meekly now, your gentle voice, ^^ 
 In God and Mary, e'er rejoice. 
 Let not the sordid things of earth. 
 Withdraw you from a heav'nly birth. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 How few, and far between, our joys. 
 On them the soul; its strength employs, 
 In weak endeavers, sadly vain. 
 To r^ach a bliss, they can't contain. 
 
 LXIIl. 
 
 We nobly pass, from passion's flow. 
 When virtue does, her force bestow. 
 To Mary, humbly have recourse. 
 From Her to us, is virtue's source. 
 
 -^ 
 
40 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1. In manner meek, mighty in deed, 
 
 2. Exalted praise's, briglitest theme, 
 
 3. The senses. 
 
 4. Eloquence. 
 
 5. Displayed the power, of love profound. 
 
 6. Upon destruction, did engraft. 
 
 7. In reference to her royal and sacerdotal descent. 
 S. The serpent's venom, long delayed. 
 
 9. Sinless, the Palm hears flowers and fruits, so did Mary, her 
 divine son. 
 
 10. To hate and spurn the world's allurements vain, 
 I Hast taught ;^and all the follies they contain. 
 
 11. And Thou, with conqu'ring might unspent. Hast, etc. 
 
 12. And truly, also horn of Thee. 
 
 13. By Grace, the Saviour of our race, is he. 1 his, with the pre- 
 ceeding Averse, indicates a threefold Birth. See Butler's Saints' 
 Lives, Dec. 26th. 
 
 14. From which the wicked, can escape no more, 
 
 15. By way of Intercession. 
 
 16. Shall not, with hlazing fury, glow. 
 
 17. No part of the Hjrmn, hut added. 
 
Saint Casimir's Hymn 
 
 TO THE 
 
 BLESSED VIRGIN, 
 
 My Translatioq of Saiqt Casinqir's HyrT]n. iq Heroic 
 rrjeasure, I regard as less true to tl^e Origiqal, than rrjy 
 Iambic Tetrarr[eter Traqslaticrj, In some cases, l^owever, 
 it more represents successfully tl^e nqeaning of th|e Origi- 
 qal, 
 
 Iq tlqis Translation, I have made no use of my first 
 Traqslation, A comparison of the two Traqslatioqs, I be- 
 lieve, will be sufficieqt to satisfy the intelligent Reader on 
 tF]is point. In a few instaqces oqly, a sameness of ex- 
 pression nqay be detected. 
 
TRANSLATION 
 
 Of 
 
 SAINT CASIMIR'S HYMN. 
 
 PENTAMETER. 
 
 I 
 
 To Mary give intensest, daily praise, 
 To her, devoutest soul, thy thoughts upraise. 
 Her holy feasts, unfailing actions kind, 
 Be ever present to thy pious mind. 
 
 II 
 Admire and contemplate a heavenly worth, 
 And view a Mother in a God-like birth. 
 A blessed Virgin of unsullied fame ; 
 The beauty of her soul, aloud proclaim. 
 
 Ill 
 Invoke her aid, from crime's oppressive load ; 
 Of Vice's ways, most careful shun the road. 
 Lest hateful sin's eternal, cruel doom. 
 Should tempest-like, thy soul involve in gloom. 
 
 IV 
 This Queen has all the nations of the earth, 
 Drawn to her Son divine, by grace's birth. 
 The favors of his grace. She has bestowed; 
 On souls that with his love have overflowed. 
 
44 
 
 Y 
 
 My tongue, the triumphs of a Yirgln, sing ; 
 A Virgin still, to us a Son could bring. 
 Who by a happy, wonder working germ, 
 Could save a race, that deils before could spurn. 
 
 Yl 
 
 To glorious Queen, unbounded praises give ; 
 Unceasing Antheras hers, may ever live. 
 The world's exalted, most propitious Queen, 
 Keceive encomiums' everlasting sheen. 
 
 YII 
 Let all my senses, grace's humble aids, 
 Be in her service, most submissive maids. 
 Let naught, but virtue's most enchanting theme. 
 From all their complicated movements, beam. 
 
 YIII 
 Can Hymns express the virtues of her sou 
 Do blazing words, her worthy deeds enrol? 
 Who has existed, that her wonders told? 
 His worth above, beyond, the purest gold. 
 
 IX 
 Our interest find we, in her daily praise ; 
 From her we seek, our souls to glory raise. 
 Imagine not, her greatness you can reach: 
 Good sense, enlightened faith, this better teach. 
 
 X 
 To pious minds, it doth most just appear, 
 That profit great must flow from virtue near 
 Yet more, still this sincere, I may intend : 
 Myself in Mary's love to all expend. 
 
45 
 
 XI 
 
 Who Mary's name in death-like silence keeps, 
 On death's eternal brink, he foolish sleeps. 
 J>^or can we all her merits justly name, 
 Kor half the beauties of her soul proclaim. 
 
 XII 
 Her most seraphic loving, best taught life. 
 Its heavenward tenor, free from worldly strife. 
 Destroyed the figments and inventions base. 
 Of an heretic, hell-born, downward race. 
 
 XIII 
 Examples hers, resistless sway our souls ; 
 As roses' scent, our subject sense controls. 
 Her words and actions, church's glory great, 
 They have a virtue, not of second rate. 
 
 XIY 
 Eve's crime, celestial gates had firmly clos3d, 
 And to the spoiler's hand, had us exposed. 
 The bolts, they backward flew, at Mary's voice ; 
 She e'er believed ; obeyed ; we now rejoice. 
 
 XY 
 On Eve's account, man's sentence was decreed. 
 His woes and sorrows then commenced, indeed ! 
 In Mary's guileless soul, a way he finds. 
 That justice and full pardon, apt combines. 
 
 XYI 
 Of sense and mind, was She so e'er discreet ; 
 Chaste life's extremes, in her so wisely meet. 
 Profound respect, we duly, daily show; 
 For us to Him, her fervent prayers, we know 
 
46 
 
 xyii 
 
 From Son on us, a holy will bestow ; 
 That his eternal will, we do, and know. 
 This life we after, and its sorrows' end; 
 With Him in bliss, eternal ages spend. 
 
 XYIII 
 Of womankind, the brightest honor great, 
 All this we love to say, and gladly state. 
 On high we see thy beauteous, dazzling throne, 
 It occupied by Thee, and God alone. 
 
 XIX 
 All those propitious, gracious, instant hear, 
 Who now intent on praises thine, appear. 
 Of heavenly graces, may they worthy be. 
 And by thy aid, from sin's pollution free. 
 
 XX 
 Of saddened minds, to cruel doubts a prey, 
 A refuge thou ; to Thee they earnest pray. 
 A favored world, exceeding glory sees ; 
 Thy Lord's abode, the wisest so agrees. 
 
 XXI 
 Life's example, and pure morals' rule, 
 Exhaustless grace's gifts, in virtue's school. 
 All virtues' praise: th' example of thy life, 
 God's holy Temple ; no unseemly strife. 
 
 XXII 
 Hail ! holy Virgin pure ! by Thee the gates 
 Are opened wide, to fallen singers' states. 
 Thou ne'er in ambush, ne'er enticed wast caught. 
 By serpent's wily craft, with venom fraught. 
 
XXIII 
 
 King David's Daugliter, in thy virgin prime, 
 The royal, fairest daughter of thy time. 
 Whom Savior God, Creator's Father's love. 
 Had chosen: fairest Galilean dove. 
 
 XXIY 
 The Virgin's praises, we delighted view. 
 A gem most pure, a rose so new. 
 To happy world's exceeding, boundless joy. 
 The virgin choirs, thy peans meet employ. 
 
 xxy 
 
 Thy endless praises, may we ever sing. 
 And to the task, a careful study bring. 
 That fair success may crown our earnest will, 
 Let fitting speech and action, this fulfill. 
 
 XXYI 
 Unf agging memory's useful, pleasing art, 
 I much desire, to me that Thou impart. 
 In numbers tuned, with music's magic voice. 
 May I thy glories sing ; with Thee rejoice. 
 
 xxyii 
 
 My lips are mute, and to corruption prone. 
 On God, how seldom can they dwell alone. 
 On favors thine, we safe can ne'er presume ; 
 Tor favors thine, we have the utmost room. 
 
 xxyiii 
 
 Eejoice, oh Virgin ! worthy of all praise ; 
 To Thee, we lauding voices, humbly raise ; 
 Who hast become the sinner's mercy's guide, 
 To save him from perdition's damning pride. 
 
48 
 
 XXIX 
 
 Thou, Virgin ! Son dost bear: Tliou Virgin great I 
 'No equal hast, rejoicing, so we state. 
 Always, Thou faithful most, always most pure, 
 The palm so like ; its choicest fruit mature. 
 
 XXX 
 The calmest beauty, seek me of chy mind. 
 In virtue's flower meet, and faithful kind. 
 Whose wondrous fruit, may lasting joys impart. 
 And wasting sorrows, from our souls may part. 
 
 XXXI 
 All pure, without the stain of any crime ; 
 Thy virtue and thy worth, from early time. 
 With joyful, steady mind, and body chaste 
 In praise unwearied, may we ever haste. 
 
 XXXII 
 The world in joys unnumbered, gaily sings, 
 The Galilean Maid, a chorus brings : 
 '' From earth's outnumbered joys, we willing go, 
 To heavenly bliss, where joys forever flow. " 
 
 XXXIII 
 A most exultant world through Thee will shine, 
 And have transcendant beauty all divine. 
 Eree from its ancient, soul depressing gloom, 
 Triumphant rise, from its degrading tomb. 
 
 XXXIV 
 The rich reduced to hungry beggar's mien, 
 In sore aflliction, are so often seen. 
 The poor : this prophesied, and truly said. 
 In great abundance, to their Lord are led- 
 
49 
 
 XXXY 
 
 Forsaken now, are errors' crooked ways, [est rays. 
 Through Thee and thine, truth shines with bright- 
 False tenets base, and morals most perverse, 
 Through Thee in past oblivion, we immerse. 
 
 XXXYI 
 The pleasures and the fashions of the world. 
 By Thee despised, are ignominious hurled. 
 A God must seek, and vices overcome, 
 Instructed Thou: they silent are, and dumb. 
 
 XXXYII 
 In pious thoughts' employ, the mind may rest, 
 Intent on God, and his supreme behest. 
 For bliss, the body may afflicted be ; 
 Its impulse in effect, may never see. 
 
 XXXYIII 
 In the dark prison's womb, hast carried II im. 
 Our Lord, who us redeemed from death and sin. 
 To us, our ancient honor has restored. 
 Which grieving we, had e'er so much deplored. 
 
 XXXIX 
 Sure hast Thou borne a Son, inviolate 
 Eejoice ; a Yirgin Mother venerate. 
 A Son hast borne, of all created things, 
 Creator, and of mighty famous Kings. 
 
 XL 
 Oh ! blessed Thou, by whom the devil's craft, 
 Of object failed, though venomed was the shaft. 
 To those in iion grim despair's embrace, 
 Bright hope returns, with saving pardon's grace. 
 
50 
 
 XLI 
 
 A blessed great, unconquered, mighty King, 
 Whose Mother Tliou, undoubted proof we bring. 
 Him uncreated, timely born of Thee, 
 The Savior of our race, we certain see. 
 
 XLII 
 Repairer, Thou, of weak despairing souls ; 
 Consoler sweet ! from whom despair back rolls. 
 Free from the fiery, great avenging woe ; 
 The precious souls, who all thy love, they know. 
 
 XLIII 
 For me beseech a never ending rest. 
 This is my only, chief, and last request. 
 That I of pool, escape devouring flames. 
 And not among rejected, hopeless names. 
 
 XLiy 
 
 What I desire, most ardent I entreat : 
 Cure all my wounds ; thy cure entire, complete. 
 Canst freely give, to my entreating mind, 
 The graces of thy Son, of every kind. 
 XLY 
 
 That I most chaste, and modest ever be, 
 Sweet, pious, sober, circumspectly free. 
 Just, yielding ; of deceit entire devoid ; 
 Dissimulation, may I ever avoid. 
 
 XL YI 
 In Sacred Scriptures, thoughts' and learned lore ; 
 Well taught, and better guided by its store. 
 Thus exercised, in virtues' surest way. 
 Free yielding to its e'er bewitching sway. 
 
XLYII 
 
 Grave, constant, meek may ever be, 
 And winning goodness in my neighbor see. 
 Pure, simple, patient and discreet mature. 
 To humble self, and others' worth procure. 
 
 XLYIII 
 To sterling truth most true, and prudent speech ; 
 The bliss of silence, may I happy reach. 
 Kejecting evil, and its wicked source. 
 By pious works, my duty may enforce. 
 
 XLIX 
 Be zealous guardian, and assistant great, 
 Of Christian people, in their ev'ry state. 
 Sweet peace bestow, beyond fierce war's dread voice, 
 Delivered thus : peace loving souls, rejoice. 
 
 L 
 In Thee, the Ocean's guiding star, we see ; 
 By Thee, the Ocean's dangers we foresee. 
 The shiny stars, by Thee in brightness passed. 
 Their dazzling light, by thine is overcast. 
 
 LI 
 Assist, Ave supplicate, with thy sweet prayer ; 
 Refresh Thou those, entrusted to thy care. 
 Whate'er depraves, or heavy burdens minds, 
 Remove that far, and what to evil binds. 
 
 LII 
 Rejoice, oh ! Virgin, in thy inmost soul's recess ; 
 From demons^ power hast freed, we all confess, 
 When generated God from Thee proceeds, 
 In flesh undoubted, for our many needs. 
 
LIII [birth, 
 
 Still chaste, though dowered with purest God-like 
 So far removed from thoughts, and ways of earth. 
 Untainted, purest virtue's lilly crown, 
 By Thee possessed, raised far above renown. 
 
 LI\r 
 Joyous nursing, rev'rent handling Him, 
 From whom thy body, soul, and ev'ry limb. 
 Eor what Thou wast, that still doth persevere, 
 A generating Virgin dost appear. 
 
 LY 
 To Christ, thy precious Son, my soul commend ; 
 From foes malignant most, my soul defend. 
 May I escape from world's eternal lot, 
 My soul be free, from sin's infernal blot. 
 
 LYI 
 Contentions far remove, and humble make ; 
 Desire 'mpure, away entire take. 
 Against all crime, a Christian strength bestow ; 
 Unshaken mind's resolve, we e'er may show. 
 
 LYII 
 
 Let not ambition's racking cares, me bind. 
 And in vile fetters, keep my soul confined. 
 Such ceaseless, senseless cares, obscure the soul. 
 Quick in perdition's headlong course, enrol. 
 
 LYIII 
 
 Let maddening anger's brutal, blazing soul. 
 Obtain o'er me no lasting time's control. 
 Eor ever fail elation's ruthless hand, 
 Which crushes, when the passions all command. 
 
53 
 
 LIX 
 
 God's grace, thy prayer, my heart from sin preserve 
 May both, my soul, in steady virtue nerve. 
 Let not th' astutest ancient, wicked foe, 
 From virtue's fairest face, to vice shy go. ^ 
 
 LX 
 Belief most opportune, assistance give. 
 To those, who truly to thy virtues, live. 
 Who zealous sanctify thy ev'ry feast, 
 And in thy service, never yet have ceased. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1. By way of intercession. 
 
 2. Saint Thomas says : The good are led into evil under the ap- 
 pearance of good. See the Rules of Saint Ignatius for the dis- 
 cerning of spirits . 
 
 -^<^^^^- 
 
Saint Casimir's Hymn 
 
 TO THK 
 
 BLESSED VIRGIN. 
 
 The Traqslation iqto HeptaiT[eters. or verses of seven 
 feet is tF|e freest of tf|e three Translatioqs. It was found 
 irr[possible to stick closely to tlqe Original. Not unfre- 
 quer|tly, equivaleqt ideas, iqstead of tF|ose of the Author, 
 are expressed, and the text of tlqe Author, is less closely 
 followed in tl^is, thaq in the two precediqg Translations. 
 
TRANSLATION 
 
 Or 
 
 SAINT CASIMIR'S HYMN. 
 
 HEPTAMETER. 
 
 I 
 
 Devoted sotil,thy pious thoughts to Mary,daily raise, 
 Her sweetest words, and kindest actions too, receive 
 
 thy praise ; 
 Most meet observance of her feasts, impedes the pas- 
 sions' craze. 
 
 II 
 
 Th' exalted splendor of her soul admire, and contem- 
 plate ; 
 
 A God-like Son, his Virgin birth, mayst truly vener- 
 ate : 
 
 A Virgin rare, a God-like Mother, we can all relate. 
 Ill 
 
 Frequent her service, that thy soul, her potent aid 
 may free ; 
 
 Toul sin's oppressive load in anguish deep, mayst 
 never see ; 
 
 And from damnation's pool, God's fearing soul, for- 
 ever flee. 
 
-58 
 
 ly 
 
 This mighty Queen has raised us to the honors of 
 
 the sky ; 
 With grace's precious gifts, we can our fearful fees 
 
 defy; 
 And to her supplication meek, her Sen can naught 
 
 deny. 
 
 V 
 
 Sing now, my soul, a song triumphant to a fruitful 
 dame : 
 
 Whose Son divine has come, without the loss of Vir- 
 gin's fame, 
 
 And raised a cursed, most afflicted race, to honor's 
 name. 
 
 VI 
 
 In praise's ceaseless strains, sing to a most propiti- 
 ous Queen, 
 
 Encomiums ne'er bestowed, except on Her rof daz- 
 zling sheen ; 
 
 Whose splendors far outshine the brightest lights, 
 by souls e'er seen. 
 
 VII 
 
 In her most holy service, all the conscious senses 
 mute. 
 
 Their downward nature left, to vice's folly prone 
 acute, 
 
 Submissive onward march, and heed her will, with- 
 out dispute. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Do blazing words of speech just half her virtues true 
 
 enrol? 
 Can hymns her merits equal, firm inscribed on ages' 
 
 scroll? 
 Those oft may reach th' attentive ear ; but these, 
 
 the inward soul. 
 
59 
 
 IX 
 
 A heav'nly distant shore, we dimly see, yet courage 
 
 keep; 
 Because a mother dear, we see amid the breakers 
 
 deep : 
 And joy's eternal gift in bliss, one day, we hope to 
 
 reap. 
 
 X 
 A pious soul by racking doubts in bitter anguish 
 
 pressed, 
 To Mary, Ocean's star, a brief petition, thus ad- 
 dressed : 
 *' Thy power for soul's relief, be deep engraved upon 
 
 my breast," 
 
 XI 
 He calmly slept upon the borders of eternal death, 
 The virtue's of the Yirgin Queen, I much regard, 
 
 he saith ; 
 And saying this: I Mary ever said ; his dying breath. 
 
 XII 
 How far above the things of earth, her lofty spirit 
 
 soars, 
 
 In God's entrancing love, her loving soul new bliss 
 explores. 
 
 And hell born errors drives to their congenial gloomy- 
 shores. 
 
 XIII 
 
 Example spreads a force resistless to the human soul ; 
 
 As roses' scent, no man, no subject sense, can e'er 
 control ; 
 
 So Mary's words and speech, the Church and mem- 
 bers most extol. 
 
60 
 
 XIY 
 
 Eve's crime had closed against uiiiiappy man, 
 til' eternal gates 
 
 Meek Mary came, believed, obeyed, cliaiiged men's 
 disastrous fates ; 
 
 Admission thus She gave to Eve, and Adam's nu- 
 merous mates. 
 
 xy 
 
 On Eve's account, a sentence dread, on guilty man 
 
 was hurled : 
 Polluting sin's foul woe impressed upon degraded 
 
 world ; 
 Triumphant Mary came, Eedemption's Standard, 
 
 She unfurled. 
 
 XVI 
 
 Arrayed in all the dazzling splendors of thy Virgin 
 birth. 
 
 So far removed from all the grov'ling hopes of sor- 
 did earth, 
 
 A Virgin's ways we view, away from dizzy scenes 
 of mirth. 
 
 XVII 
 
 Along with him, to heavenly, blissful shores, we 
 
 joyous go; 
 His will performing in harsh winter, or the vernal 
 
 glow ; 
 At life's glad close, his beauties all, assured, we 
 
 then shall know. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 So far beyond, above, the highest range of woman- 
 kind ; 
 
 Of it, the glories all, in one pure soul so well com- 
 bmed ; 
 
 We view Thee raised above sublimest thoughts, of 
 human mind. 
 
61 
 
 XIX 
 
 With glory crowned in bliss producing, lieav'nly 
 
 sweet abode, 
 Intently hear the sinner's pleas, in sin's relentless 
 
 goad ; 
 Delighted praises, hear; console him on his weary 
 
 road. 
 
 XX 
 
 Loud sounds the tempter's roar, in saddened mind's 
 oppressive night, 
 
 In Mary's refuge, seek above the world, a brighter 
 light : 
 
 The Lord's divine abode, and gladdened world's su- 
 preme delight. 
 
 XXI 
 
 Perfection's ways, thy joyous, guileless soul, secure 
 
 they kept, 
 Exhaustless special grace's gifts, from Thee, we 
 
 now accept ; 
 God's holy Temple Thou, from Him, thy soul, it 
 
 never slept, 
 
 XXII 
 
 Amidst terrific thunders' sounds, the massive gates 
 are closed. 
 
 Against a sinful race, by witching sin's deceit im- 
 posed; 
 
 But now by Virgin's lilly hands, we view the gates 
 unclosed. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 King David's royal, fairest virgin daughter from 
 
 above ; 
 Whom loving God, Creator's, Father's all creating 
 
 love, 
 Had chosen as his fairest, dearest Galilean dove. 
 
62 
 
 xxry 
 
 Now hear th' entrancing music of a heav'nly virghi 
 
 band : 
 They sonnd their music on the lovely shores ; a far 
 
 off land ; 
 A Virgin decked in rosy, rain bow hues, imparts 
 
 command. 
 
 XXY 
 
 The power grant^ ; that I thy praises may forever 
 
 sing; 
 And to the task, a worthy speech and earnest action 
 
 bring ; 
 Thus let thy ceaseless praises, through all future 
 
 ages ring. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 I much desire, that memory's useful force, may much 
 
 increase ; 
 Attentive may it play its part, the soul from sin 
 
 release ; 
 In Mary's praises sweet, secure may it enjoy its 
 
 peace. 
 
 XXYII 
 
 Although my lips are mute, and to corruption ever 
 
 prone ; 
 Rare seeking for their many grievous faults, to just 
 
 atone ; 
 But still, reljdng yet on Mary's love, near mercy's 
 
 throne. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 To dread destruction's everlasting doom, was man 
 condemned ; 
 
 His crimes him dragging down ; by them in close 
 confinement hemmed ; 
 
 Eejoice ! oh ! Virgin rare, his bliss by Thee, so glori- 
 ous gemmed. 
 
XXIX 
 
 To bitter death was man condemned, unless a Vir- 
 gin meek, 
 
 A God-like Son should bear, this spotless Yirgin, 
 now we seek. 
 
 The Virgin Mary bore a Son, for Roman, Jew and 
 Greek. 
 
 XXX 
 
 When our sad, sorrow drifted souls, sink into an- 
 guish deep ; 
 
 We anxious search a course, that may our virtue 
 constant keep ; 
 
 View Mary's joy producing soul, then souls strength 
 quiet reap. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 In body pure, and soul without the shadow of a 
 
 stain, 
 We seek a Virgin, who can thus forever, so remain. 
 From useless search desist, a Virgin Mother, heav'- 
 
 ns contain. 
 
 XXXII 
 
 In soul entrancing strains, the Galilean Maid, She 
 
 brings. 
 Unnumbered joys, and to delighted world, She 
 
 sweetly sings : 
 Through Me che blessed souls, the heav'nly gate, it 
 
 open springs. 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 The present ever fails, a future joy, we zealous seek. 
 Such joy transcendant true, obtain we may, through 
 
 Mary meek. 
 Who free bestows it from her Son, on Roman and 
 
 the Greek. 
 
XXXIY 
 
 Tlie rich, who never knew the ragged beggar's^ scanty 
 meal, 
 
 Are sorely now reduced, their wants in public, to 
 reveal ; 
 
 This prophesied and said, deceptive, we cannot con- 
 ceal. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 Eclipse so hateful great, a mind perverse in errors^ 
 ways. 
 
 Clear truth eternal dims, in brightest mind's con- 
 verging rays. 
 
 'Tis Thou, most lady fair, who such perversion sure 
 delays. 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 In virtue's fairest mien, a fascinating pleasure comes, 
 Attacks the weary soul, it to destruction wicked 
 
 runs. 
 Seek God ; the flesh subdue, then soul the tempter 
 
 easy shuns. 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 An aim supreme^ we have, and actions ours, to this 
 
 most tend ; 
 To this, the body and its impulse too, must ever 
 
 bend ; 
 And thus for heav'n's reward, endeavors may most 
 
 happy blend. ♦ 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 The pris'ners firm are held, in darksome, loathsome^ 
 prison's den ; 
 
 Redeemer gracious seek, but still remain in prison's 
 pen; 
 
 The Virgin brings her Sons, Redeemer of th' im- 
 prisoned men. 
 
XXXI X 
 
 In nature's primal goodness pure, to Thee a God- 
 like Son, 
 
 Whose God-like reign supreme, before a King had 
 yet begun ; 
 
 A Virgin Mother Thou ; chaste lilly's crown, hast 
 doubly won^ . 
 
 XL 
 
 Against frail men, it failed, the rebel angeFs deepest 
 
 craft. 
 Sure was the deadly aim, envenomed most, the 
 
 hidden shaft ; 
 By Mary conqured lies ; to sinners now rare mercies 
 
 waft. 
 
 XLI 
 
 A blessed great, transcendant and unconquered, 
 
 mighty King, 
 Whose God-like Mother Thou, undoubted proof, we 
 
 easy bring. 
 The Savior of our woful, fallen race, the surest 
 
 thing. 
 
 XLII 
 
 The raging, restless, fiery angels death producing 
 
 dart, 
 Is hurled among despairing souls, and may eternal 
 
 death impart ; 
 But Mary comes. Consoler great, his wounds to cure, 
 
 with matchless art. 
 
 XLIII 
 
 For me beseech a never ending, undisturbed repose. 
 Where fires, they never touch ; and raging flame, it 
 
 never goes ; 
 Thus I a bliss may safe enjoy, that hell, it never 
 
 knows. 
 
XLIY 
 
 What ardent I entreat, cure all the wounds "of soul 
 
 so blind ; 
 The graces of thy Son, and precious these of ev'ry 
 
 kind 
 Give to entreating mind ; with these the soul to 
 
 virtue bind. 
 
 XLV 
 
 What nature weak rejects, that I may ever, always 
 
 be ; 
 And from the shameful faults, that souls degrade, 
 
 may I be free. 
 Sweet, pious, sober, just ; e'er with my brethren to 
 
 agree. 
 
 XLYI 
 
 By sacred exercises taught, and ornamented well, 
 By them, with Sacred Scriptures' lore, in virtue to 
 
 excel ; 
 Safe guarded and protected thus, the soul may vice 
 
 repel. 
 
 XLYII 
 
 May I be constant, grave ; in adverse things, be ever 
 
 meek ; 
 Benignant, simple, pure; the will of others, e'er to 
 
 seek; 
 Mature and patient, humble most ; but slow my 
 
 mind to speak. 
 
 XLYIII 
 
 So silent and reserved, he peaceful passed the bounds 
 
 of earth; 
 To senseful joy no slave, a time he knew for merry 
 
 mirth ; 
 So in such virtue passed, his life prepared for heav'- 
 
 nly birth. 
 
XLTX 
 
 By fiercest foes attacked, be Thou a guardian and 
 assistant great, 
 
 Of thy loved Christian flock, contending for salva- 
 tion's state ; 
 
 A conquerer's joyous tale, o'er vanquished foes, may 
 they relate. 
 
 L 
 
 Amid loud tempest's roar, salvation's surest, guid- 
 ing star ; 
 
 With men's and lofty Angels highest praises, on a 
 par ; 
 
 We see th' unwonted splendor of thy soul, in vis- 
 ion's distance far. 
 
 LI 
 
 With ardent prayer assist the souls, assailed by bit- 
 ter grief ; 
 
 Thy supplication free on them bestow ; to them a 
 sure relief. 
 
 Prom evil far their souls remove, and wav'ring un- 
 belief. 
 
 LII 
 
 In might a warrior came: his forces artful all con- 
 cealed ; 
 
 In this his strength and greatest weakness, were so 
 well revealed^ ; 
 
 A Virgin Mother came ; in vain his warriors, then 
 in armor steeled. 
 
 LIII 
 
 A God-like Virgin's fame, among the ^N'ations of 
 
 the East. 
 It reached the Happy Isles^ ; and there its wonders 
 
 much increased. 
 She bore a God- like Son ; He us from demon's sway 
 
 released. 
 
LIY 
 
 A joyous Mother nursing Him, from whom Thou'st 
 all received ; 
 
 Whose mortal body's frame, Thou'st rev'rent han- 
 dled, and conceived^ . 
 
 What once Thou wast, that still rainain'st ; by sin 
 wast ne'er deceived. 
 
 LV 
 
 May I secure escape, from wicked world's, eternal 
 
 doom 
 Where deeds atrocious most, the stubborn soul in 
 
 hell entomb ; 
 Most sure consign it thus, to darkest hell's infernal 
 
 gloom. 
 
 LYI 
 
 Contention's workers vile, may I forever careful 
 
 shun ; 
 Who in the ways of sin, desires impure, forever run ; 
 Protection scarce they seek, and so by vice are soon 
 
 undone. 
 
 LYII 
 
 Ambition's heartless, raving, world besotted, rest- 
 less soul, 
 
 Would phrenzied seek its grov'ling ends, disdaining 
 all control ; 
 
 Then servile drag the mind ; in dread perdition, 
 sure enroll. 
 
 LYIII 
 
 Let maddening anger's brutal, blazing soul, in pur- 
 pose fail ; 
 
 That woes unnumbered angered, guilty souls, may 
 not bewail ; 
 
 And sore repentance tardy seek, when time may 
 scarce avail. 
 
69 
 
 LIX 
 
 May God's impelling grace my soul, from deadly sin 
 
 preserve ; 
 May Mary's gracious prayers, my soul in solid virtue 
 
 nerve. 
 Erom virtue's surest path, th' astutest foe, my soul 
 
 ne'er swerve. 
 
 LX 
 Belief , assistance truly opportune, may st speedy give ; 
 That e'er among thy feasts and actions, we may 
 
 pious live ; 
 And should poor fallen nature fail ; may God th' 
 
 offense forgive. 
 
 -^ 
 
NOTES. 
 
 1. Saitli, pron. seth. 
 
 2. By way of intercession. 
 
 3. Onr last End. 
 
 4. A Virgin Motlier Thou ; chaste lilly's crown, h ist doubly won 
 by still remaining a Virgin, and yet becoming a Virgin Mother. 
 
 5. A Virgin Mother came ; in vain his warriors, then iil armor 
 steeled. In reference to the defeat of the devil and his rebel 
 angels, by the incarnation of the Son of God ; and also in refer- 
 ence to the part enacted by the Mother of God, in the work of our 
 Eedemption. 
 
 6. Happy Isles, called by the Ancients: Insulae Felices, sup- 
 posed to be the Canary Isles. 
 
 7. A poetical license, reversing the order of nature. 
 
Stabat Mater. 
 
 I 
 
 The sorrow stricken Mother stayed, 
 She tearful near the Cross delayed ; 
 Her Son, in anguish deep, arrayed. 
 
 II 
 Whose soul from joy, it wailing ceased, 
 Sore grieved, lamenting, woe increased, 
 A cruel sword, it ruthless pierced. 
 
 Ill 
 Afflicted, and so very sad. 
 This soul most blest, her sorrows had : 
 An only Son, in torments clad. 
 
 IV 
 
 She trembling viewed her God-like Son, 
 His sufferings us, and mercy won ; 
 Such tortures She, would never shun. 
 
 V 
 
 'No mortal man could tearless view, 
 A God-like Mother's livid hue, 
 Amid a deicidal crew. 
 
 VI 
 
 Christs' Mother seen, as mourner chief, 
 With Son in woe, beyond belief, 
 Who could restrain the flow of grief ? 
 
74 
 
 VII 
 
 For her tinwortliy race's sins, 
 Her Jesus' suff-ring so begins, 
 Amid rough scourges 'gaping dins^ 
 
 VIII 
 
 In desolation's awful death, 
 
 She saw Him yield his dying breath, 
 
 '' My sweet first-born," lamenting saithz ? 
 
 With Thee, most holy may I giieve ; 
 Thy grief, with mine so poor, relieve ; 
 Thy Virgin love, my soul receive. 
 
 X 
 
 My heart induce to ardent burn ; 
 Through Christ, to God, a quick return ; 
 That He my soul, may never spurn. 
 
 XI 
 
 Upon my heart, impress his wounds^ , 
 Whose suff'rings passed all human bounds, 
 And reached affliction's highest rounds. 
 
 XII 
 
 Afflictions his, with mine divide ; 
 
 For me, he gracious willing, died ; 
 
 In heav'n his wounds, he would not hide. 
 
 XIII 
 
 With thine, tears bitter mine, may flow, 
 And on the crucified bestow, 
 A tear, as long as life I know. 
 
 XIV 
 
 With Thee, beside the Cross to stand, 
 
 Lamenting join a holy band. 
 
 Is now my last, supreme demand. 
 
75 
 
 XV 
 
 With Thee, most sad may I bewail, 
 In harshness do me not assail, 
 A Virgin Mother, Thee we haiL 
 
 XVi 
 
 Past bitter w^ounds, may I recount, 
 To Passion's merits may I mount, 
 Christ's death I hear, all merits' fount. 
 
 XVII 
 
 With sorrow's dart, I wounded be. 
 Such Cross, with pleasure, may I see ; 
 For Jesus' love of Galilee. 
 xviir 
 Inflamed with burning love, and fired ; 
 Defense from Thee, 'gainst foes conspired ; 
 Dread Judgment's terrors now retired. 
 
 XIX 
 
 With grace, may I be nourished sure ; 
 Christ's death to me, most certain cure ; 
 His Cross for me, may heav'n procure. 
 
 XX 
 
 Advancing death the body claims. 
 Sad purges sin's most deadly shames, 
 And blissful life, to soul proclaims. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1. The scourging of our blessed Lord produced a stunning noise 
 and gaping wounds. 
 
 2. Seth. 
 
 3. Rhyme with sounds. 
 
76 
 
 SOUL OF CHRIST. 
 
 Christ's soul, me holy make ; 
 Christ's body, friends may take, 
 Christ's wounded heart, me sate, 
 Christ's blood, inebriate, 
 Christ's passion, comfort me, 
 Christ's Jesus' joys, may see, 
 "Within thy wounds conceal, 
 A place for me reveal, 
 Erom wicked foe defnnd. 
 My soul, thy voice commend. 
 My soul at thy command, 
 Join sweet angelic band, 
 In Sion's blissful land. 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 Oq the Occasioq of the TestinpLonial Presentation, Eqtwiqed in Red, 
 
 • Wl^ite aqd Blue, and Overlapped by a Cross, Formed of 
 
 Yellow aqd Purple, was Respectfully Dedicated, 
 
 TO RT. REV. P. J. RYAN, D. D.i 
 
 Majestic sweeps the ship along the shore. 
 
 But not, indeed, in search of sordid ore, 
 
 Far nobler is her present, worthy task, 
 
 And when she goes, reluctant most, we ask. 
 
 Adrift on Ocean's waves, propitious winds implore, 
 
 To waft him to his distant, native, cherished shore. 
 
 The zealous Bishop of this happy land, 
 
 On dearest home his love must brief expand, 
 
 He has elsewhere, another dearest home, 
 
 From ic too long, his thoughts, they must not roam. 
 
77 
 
 To Leo's voice, a willing ear he lends, 
 
 To serve the cause, on which so much depends. 
 
 Success attend thy sacred Mission's call, 
 
 Let naught but joy, intrepid soul befall. 
 
 We'll ever ardent hail thy safe return, 
 
 We trust, our love for Thee may brighter burn. 
 
 farewell, retain unfailing Peter's love. 
 
 And all the choicest blessings from above, 
 
 Remember children on Missouri's shore, 
 
 Who pray for Thee and thine for ever more. 
 
 1. Now Archbishop of Philadelphia. 
 
 Ch|urch[ of the Holy Name of Jesus — Confirmation Oct, 29, 1882, 
 
 BECITATIOH. 
 
 Kaught ill, Right Rev'rend Bishop, shall we truly say, 
 Nor all the many faults of Hero, thus betray. 
 The failing Hero's health, was not the very best. 
 His wayward disposition, not the sweetest all confessed 
 Devout, life's gracious Author, Hero had received. 
 His guiding strength'ning grace, it had not yet appeared, 
 A fire in Hero's soul, it burnt so very strong. 
 He ardent wished a place, in Christ's contending throng. 
 Brave Hero's wish, a law to mother, father too ; 
 But how could he belong to such a happy crew ? 
 The weakness of his soul, it was so very clear. 
 Poor Hero wept, and shed a bitter, scalding tear. 
 Th' afflicted mother, to the Bishop early went, 
 Exposed to Him her sorrow, and its vast extent. 
 '' Good woman ! be consoled : on early Sunday Eve, 
 *'An end to grief I'll bring ; its burden sure relieve, 
 ''The Spirit's e'en fold gifts, will strengthen Hero'ssoul, 
 
''And all the troubles of his mind, most sweet control.' 
 Advancing thus o'er high perfection's peaks, 
 Courageous will he spurn, deceiver's foulest freaks. 
 Along the slipp'ry paths of life he'll glide, 
 To heav'nly rest, where lasting joys so long abide. 
 
 SMITH AHD JOHES— A Dialogue. 
 
 ThLe Bible as the sole Guide to religious trutli. 
 Smith. Friend Jones, a question can you truly solve ? 
 
 From it no light, just now, can I evolve. 
 
 The Bible, has it all essential truth ? 
 
 From John, to Moses wise, and saddest Euth ? 
 Jones. Friend Smith, how very strange indeed, you speak: 
 
 We have it from the Latin and the Greek. 
 
 All saving truths, undoubted, it contains, 
 
 Without admixture of foul errors' strains. 
 Smith. From Hebrew, Greek and Latin does it come ? 
 
 Of truths unfailing, ever has the sum ? 
 
 On many points, the wise so oft are free ; 
 
 As to essentials, seldom can agree. 
 
 The Holy Book to all, its truths reveals ? 
 
 How then account for wranglers" fierce appeals ? 
 
 How can such jarring creeds, from truth proceed ? 
 
 Grows corn, or sorghum, from tobacco seed ? 
 
 How can the Holy Book, to all impart, 
 
 Conflicting truths, so far from primal start (a) 
 
 Solve all these doubts, with wisdom's treasures 
 
 flow, 
 Eternal truth, shall I securely know. 
 
 (a) The Bible regarded as the sole guide to religious truth. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The Muse heroic gravely made remark, 
 " What sounds discordant, inharmonious^ hark ! 
 Th' shallow minded, silly, wayward fools. 
 Who, inexpert, would use the Sage's tools, 
 On senseless, tuneless, inharmonic chimes. 
 Who ever does his folly ruminate."* 
 The Rural Past is grown to larger si^e, 
 Official acts this Pamphlet does comprise. 
 Exhaust, at once, who would, his treasured store, 
 Sedately rests, and wisely designs no more. 
 
 *See a notice of Rural Pastor in Missouri Hepublican, May 1, 1881. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 To appreciate the iollowing Piece, imagine a Country Pastor's 
 dilapidated Eesidence. .Further, picture to yourself an ancient 
 Cliurch, struggling hard for existence, and then on the very verge 
 of destruction. Finally, view a long equestrian statute in a well- 
 used, nearly worn out stable. All these surroundings are taken in 
 at a glance, and,grotesquely grouped together by the City Wag, 
 the expression of ^hose countenance betrays him to the observa- 
 tion of his country Friend. The struggle hrgins. The conn 
 try Pastor considerably magnifies his meager advantages. The 
 Wag very demurely listens to his country friend until he has 
 reached the lines. 
 
 Indeed! a happy Pastor am 1 still. 
 
 With rising hopes a higher post to fill, (c) 
 
 Here again his countenance betrays him. The Country Pastor 
 detects his waggish look, which kindles anew the wrath of the 
 irate Pastor. 
 
 The Wag, at last, wins the day by the adroit use of flattery, 
 which not unfreguently penetrates, where many a well- aimed 
 weapon had been previously foiled of its intended purpose. 
 
THE RURAL PASTOR AND HIS FRIEND. 
 
 A DIALOGUE. 
 
 R. P.— My worthy friend, you ask me how I fare, 
 But why that grin sardonic, vacant stare? 
 Your conduct truly most unseemly is, 
 Perhaps you dearly love to joke and quiz. 
 If so, my funny friend, take my advice, 
 Elsewhere yourself betake, within a trice. 
 P.— Do not your vengeful, mighty wrath expend. 
 On th' owner of no house, or other friend. 
 My graceless laughter loud, and it misplaced. 
 Be nobly now, by pardon free effaced. 
 A bony horse I saw, an empty crib — 
 The bony horse : he had a mighty rib. 
 
 R. P.— Stop, sir I to insult dare not rashly add ! 
 
 Porsooth ! you might fare ill if I were mad. 
 Know now, that of great famous Cherry Town^ . 
 I am the royal king and only crown^ , 
 And dainty fruits have I, of every kind. 
 Untouched by lawless men, or boys combined. 
 A sunny, cheery, happy, healthy home. 
 Enchanting, goodly walks, through which to roam 
 A princely church, its days now passed, and more ; 
 Souls leading to a mystic, heav'n wrought shore. 
 Beyond whose nearest, farthest, utmost bound, 
 Eternal peace, and blissful rest are found. 
 
.^S2 
 
 A drowsy murmur, soft and sweet, steals on. 
 The waving grass among, and graves upon. 
 'Tis but the sainted heroes' memory passed ^ 
 Whose matchless joys in heav'n for ever last. 
 Indeed, a happy pastor am I still. 
 With rising hopes, a higher pos to filP . 
 Again, I see that plastic, mimic face. 
 That ne'er was seen in witching wisdom's race. 
 Most loath am I once more to harshly speak, 
 And on thee, guilty still, just vengeance wreak. 
 Away ! thou canst not, must not tarry here, 
 I am, twice told, thy equal and compeer. 
 Thy twisted mind : a crook it has or two, 
 And this day's raving folly, live to rue. 
 r. — Indeed ! I do most willing, gracious go ; 
 An auburn lock : do now most kind, bestow 
 And joyous down the ruffled stream of time, 
 I swiftly flow, in happy verse and rhyme. 
 
 R. P.^Prolong no more this weary dialogue, 
 I hate both thee and endless epilogue. 
 F. — Indeed I my friend, you ever are in mind. 
 
 With taste,good sense and judgment,well combined . 
 
 R. P.— Stay yet awhile, my honest, learned friend* , 
 Contention cease, and wrathful minds unbend, 
 r.— And how can I such wondrous love repay ? 
 
 R. P.— Prolong your welcome, classic visit's stay. 
 Indeed ! a happy pastor am I still, 
 With rising hopes, a higher post to fill. 
 When sorrow's cruel crushing tide sweeps by, 
 Aloft to God-like thoughts may safely fly. 
 To soul's recesses deep, secure abode, 
 
83 
 
 Thus free himself from grief's oppressive load. 
 And fondly then does mind, with mind, commune, 
 In holy books, and aptly opportune, 
 ^ow busy memory plies her varied art, 
 From many sources does sweet joys impart. 
 To great Creator's happy home ascends, 
 And there in joy immersed, to earth again extends 
 Her airy, swift descending, viewless flight, 
 The mourning soul to fill, with new delight. 
 Eut now" to other s€enes attention bend. 
 And gracious mercy's boundless sway extend. 
 Erom quiet contemplation's sweetest state, 
 Our minds now turn to manlike action great. 
 Like roaring thunder, flashing lightning's speed, 
 Went Eural Pastor's fiery, foaming steed. 
 Up rocky mount, down sombre valley deep, 
 ^or eye, nor ear, could either distance keep. 
 But why this headlong, reckless, break-neck haste, 
 Has death, and all its horrors been effaced ? 
 The hoary headed sinner's last appeal. 
 Has roused the faithful, fearless Pastor's zeal. 
 His childhood's tottering, faithless, wicked years, 
 Had sore awaked the Pastor's gravest fears. 
 The die was cast, the danger bravely passed. 
 Approving smile, the soul it overpassed. 
 
-84- 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1. Perchance demurely, deftly to conceal, 
 "What til' autlior wary, never would reveal. 
 
 2. Crown : ornament- Modest wortb . 
 
 3. Perhaps an oak, a deal, or cedar post. 
 Within, a living sprite, or wily ghost. 
 
 This keenly raised his laughter loud, and strong. 
 
 And nearly sent him on his way along. 
 
 " The Pastor's ear was not the very best. 
 
 And objects far, hut faint, on sight impressed." 
 
 4. How quick to catch delusive siren's song, 
 And adulation' s sweetest voice prolong. 
 
-85- 
 
 POTATOES. 
 
 Being present at the exercises of a literary association, one of 
 tlie speakers announced, m a most dogmatic way, tliat liill-sides 
 were most favorable for tlie growtli of potatoes, tliis tickled my 
 fancy, hence tlie piece. A Physician and his Friend, in a raging 
 fever, are introduced. 
 
 Dost say, my friend, potatoes grow on crags, 
 
 Siber'an, under silken Union flags ? 
 
 Do not commix the eagles and the bears^ 
 
 Which, disaccordant, never show in pairs. 
 
 Potatoes such do grow, in scraggy soil, 
 
 Devoured by convicts, with voracious toil. 
 
 In famine dire, and sweeping overflow, 
 
 They do unwonted, lasting health bestow. 
 
 A smile derisive on thy lips, it steals, 
 
 And all tlie folly of thy soul reveals. 
 
 Ten dreary, dreadful years both came and passed. 
 
 Potato-seed, the rarest, came at last. 
 
 The seed: it grew, three years, three months and more 
 
 It came from barren, unproductive shore. 
 
 Potatoes long and slim, uncommon tough. 
 
 They grew along the hill-side steep and rough 
 
 Eesistless swept the fated valley through. 
 
 And high on house, and over rafter grew. 
 
 How sadly fares that hill, its shady sides. 
 
 Where the Potatoe tall and slim abides. 
 
 1. Emblematic of the Flags of the United States and the Rus- 
 sian Bear. 
 
THE GREAT DAY. 
 
 For months the Widow's tears had ceased, 
 To change her state, her fears had much increased. 
 Then came the scion of a warlike race, 
 Who deftly wooed and won, all lovely Grace. 
 Whose beauteous, sylph-like, and angelic form, 
 Was on that bright, propitious bridal morn. 
 The fit enclosure of a blissful mind, 
 Fired with an ardent love of human kind. 
 Which does two willing hearts completely blend, 
 When Heav'n her gracious sanction deigns to lend. 
 And bids them to remain for ever so, 
 As joyous on to bliss, they gladsome go. 
 
87- 
 
 MY NIECE S MARRIAGE EVE. 
 
 Ah ! Lizzie, doubly fair and bright, my dear, 
 How can you ever, always so appear ? 
 And dare a naughty, gloomy sorrow shade. 
 And on to-morrow's blissful joy invade ? 
 Swift, boundless beauty's thoughts do now enjoy, 
 Ecstatic mind, on visions bright employ. 
 Sweep boldly down the peaceful stream of time, 
 Seize hallowed pleasure in its noon-day prime. 
 From such delicious, potent, sating draught. 
 Let naught of hateful, ugly^ sin be quaffed. 
 And thus, may this, remain, for ever so, 
 As joyous on to bliss you gladsome go. 
 
ESCULAPIAN. 
 
 Ah me ! a Dublin doctor, doubly dear, 
 He truly has no equal or compeer, 
 Who nobly does his healing art employ, 
 And bids the sick p-ternal health enjoy. 
 How swift is he to soothe all human woes, 
 And from the sick repel domestic foes. 
 Jjet gracious peace and joy his home pervade, 
 And sorrow, at his happy door, be laid. 
 Thus in a cheerful mind, and body sound. 
 May brightest virtue's place be ever found. 
 May he who cures the hardest, toughest sores, 
 Bestow on him God's choicest, rarest stores. 
 
farewell! 
 
 Written for a Youqg Married Lady ori'Her Departure Fronri Child- 
 h[Ood's Happy Sceqes. 
 
 Farewell ! to childhood's joyous, merry, happy scenes. 
 And fondly now, my soul, on other hopes it leans. 
 May God protect a father kind, and mother too, 
 And in their children, all their former bliss renew. 
 Farewell ! dear Sisters, Brothers, too, and cherished Home, 
 Enchanting, goodly walks, through which 1 used to roam. 
 Mount gently now, my timid soul, to other aims, 
 Do sweetly yield to laws, that all the earth proclaims. 
 Amidst depressing, ceaseless, weary, irksome cares, 
 Do not forget the precious, living soul's affairs 
 And then, at life's well-spent, eventful, blessed close, 
 Christ, Mary sweet, mayst see, and saints to Heav'n uprose. 
 
-90- 
 
 SALUTATION. 
 
 Said Jones to Jinkins on a hot June day, 
 
 A beautiful time, indeed, for races gay! 
 
 What funny race, my jolly friend, explain ; 
 
 In floating dust, three weeks, the streets have lain. 
 
 A story very short to make, I say, 
 
 Is the merry human race astray. 
 
 Friend Jones, how strangely, wondrous wise you are, 
 
 This surely comes from other sources far. 
 
 But rightly,, could you such a story tell 
 
 As that, which did the day so nicely sell. 
 
 That day, could you my friend, just now relate ? 
 
 It is the Day, we justly celebrate. 
 
-91- 
 
 THE FISHERMAN S SAIL. 
 
 As a fisherman sat at the close of the day, 
 Aboard of his boat in a creek of the bay, 
 Amending his nets, and enjoying anew, 
 The niim'rous draughts which at morning he drew, 
 The moorings were broke by a sweep of the gale, 
 And away, and away, went the fisherman's sail. 
 
 He looked for the canvas, he looked for the oar. 
 He looked all in vain, they were both on the shore. 
 He looked to the beach, where his wife in her grief, 
 Was holding her hands to Heaven for relief. 
 He caught on the breeze the voice of her wail. 
 As away, and away, went the fisherman's sail. 
 
 Three days and three nights o'er the fathomless seas 
 As light as the leaf that is bore by the breeze, 
 In spite of the hunger that gnawed at his heart, 
 In spite of the tear-drop that often would start, 
 In spite of the prayer that w^as breathed without fail, 
 Away, and away, went the fisherman's sail. 
 
 At morning the fourth by the light of its star, 
 
 A bark steered along the horizon afar. 
 
 His bosom revived with a flutter of hope, 
 
 His cheek, too, was wet with an exquisite drop, 
 
 But she soon disappeared without hearing his wail, 
 
 And away, and away went the fisherman's sail. 
 
At morning the fifth he seemed drifting away, 
 
 To a desolate island all rocky and gray. 
 
 Oh God ! it were sweet there to live and to die, 
 
 Though no mortal were near, though no creature were nigh. 
 
 He neared it, he passed it— his efforts were frail. 
 
 For away, and away, went the fisherman's sail. 
 
 At last, like an arrow just shot from the bow. 
 
 To that region of iceberg, darkness and snow. 
 
 Where the polar gloom slumbers for nights o'er the main, 
 
 Where no mortal shall ever behold him again. 
 
 Where his bones shall repose with the bear and the whale, 
 
 Away, and away w^ent the fisherman's sail. 
 
 How beantifuUy the preceding piece portrays some of the 
 strongest emotions that can agitate the human soul. Who is the 
 author? 
 
-9S- 
 
 THE BABY'S DEATH. 
 
 iHer Mother's Morniqg Care; How Sadly Fared it tl^rough tl^e 
 
 Weary day. Babies Have Beer\ Found Cliqgiqg to tl^e 
 
 Breasts of their Dead Mothers. 
 
 The lonely Mother's dead, 
 Crept Baby to her bed 
 Lowly, its nest, its food ; 
 In plaintive, wailing mood. 
 Three days poor Baby pined, 
 !N"or food, nor rest, could find. 
 The Baby's last embrace. 
 Just now has taken place. 
 Down drop its tiny limbs. 
 Its soul ascends in hymns. 
 To its Angelic host. 
 Its body: Beauty's boast. 
 The stranger's trembling hand. 
 His tears cannot command. 
 Consigns them to the grave. 
 His tears, the earth relave. 
 
Education, 
 
 Education to be of the greatest benefit to the person 
 educated, ought to be applied to both body and mind. 
 Were Public School Education to be restricted to what 
 society essentially needs^ viz : Eeading, writing and Arith- 
 metic, it would be a healthful step towards substantial 
 progress. And were the Public Schools to impart more of 
 an Industrial Education, the essential wants of the masses 
 of the people, would be better provided for ; and society 
 at large, would be in a more prosperous, healthier and 
 safer condition. More of the Family influence, and less 
 of the exotic Boarding School System, would be an un- 
 mistakable indication of progress in the right direction. 
 Kemove a Boy, or a Girl, from five to eight years from 
 healthy home influence, and then, where is the man or 
 woman, in this, or any other land, who can impart to that 
 Boy or Girl, a practical knowledge of the details of home- 
 stead life. I agree with Doctor Brownson, that God has 
 given to the Parents the aid necessary to train their Chil- 
 dren ; and that He has given such aid to nobody else. 
 
EDUCATION, 
 
 I 
 
 'Tis education guides the soul to wicked deeds, 
 When plastic virtue sows no self -restraining seeds ; 
 Destructive vice's headlong course, in naught impedes. 
 
 II 
 Were we just made for pleasure's gayest scenes, 
 Then might we safely place, the end beneath the means ; 
 And folly's ways embrace, without shy virtue's screens. 
 
 ILL 
 But nature loud proclaims, that this is not our end ; 
 Despite corruption's wily ways, we seek to tend, 
 To virtues and the ways, which they so well defend. 
 
 IV 
 Repulsive most, the hateful, downward race of sin ; 
 Allurements gross in foolish folly's loudest din ; 
 Enjoyed unceasing, unappeased, must e'er begin. 
 
 Y 
 Is Education author of these mighty wrongs ? 
 Are souls confined in vice's dens, with spirits' thongs ? 
 All this, and more, to Education false belongs. 
 
 VI 
 The torpid mind, without fair virtue's healing rays, 
 In vilest thraldom's self-constructed dungeons lays ; 
 False Education's bitter, rotten fruits portrays. 
 
yii 
 
 Appear not men and women, on a mimic stage ; 
 Their parts respective keenly act, from tender age ; 
 In virtue's patli, or vice's ways, tliey oft engage. 
 
 YIII 
 The inclinations that to virtue easy tend. 
 That sweet embrace, and all perfections ready blend ; 
 May with an equal pace, to vice's lairs extend. 
 
 IX 
 Full Education should its forces well combine ; 
 From nature's roughest blocks, produce a work so fine ; 
 Adorned with all the graces of the polished jS'ine. 
 
 X 
 
 But nature's noblest works may be so badly marred; 
 And dullest, feeblest, mental rays so madly starred; (a) 
 That we, from admiration's tribute, be debarred. 
 
 XI 
 Whose now the fault, what shall we such perversion name ? 
 To call it vice's folly, — 'twere so very tame ; 
 It can, but half the foolish parents' pride, proclaim, (b) 
 
 XII 
 Good Education trains the body and the mind ; 
 And rightly teaches here, their future bliss to find ; 
 Each in its proper sphere, in mete results combined. 
 
 XIII 
 Make children all, an honest occupation learn ; (c) 
 The drone's disgrace in civic hive, to hearty spurn ; 
 And be the social fabric's good, their chief concern, (d) 
 
 XIY 
 The girl should learn the happy homestead's needful laws; 
 Discreetly shun the talk, that vice so easy draws ; (e) 
 
 The worry, that the ill-instructed overawes. 
 
99 
 
 xy 
 
 Should in her nicely managed home, be ever found : 
 Complete contentment's deepest, cheering, grateful sound ; 
 Unwonted, lasting joys should spread, on all around. 
 
 xyi 
 
 Would parents thus instruct ,in wisdom's ways, their child; 
 We should less frequent see its crimes, in mountains piled ; 
 Our land with murder's blots not often so defiled. 
 
 xyii 
 
 Develop well the native forces of the mind ; 
 Teach it Creator's wisest plans, to easy find; 
 The employments of the body, intertwined, 
 
 xyiii 
 
 Possess dear freedom's sons, the riches of the land ; 
 
 Eepel the competition of a foreign band ; 
 
 Our home taught labor, skilled to order and command. 
 
 XIX 
 Should freedom's heirs become the judges of the soil ; (f ) 
 Their scanty bread condemned to earn, with untaught toil; 
 Permitting Europe's sons, their birthrights to despoil, (g) 
 
 XX 
 A foe is he to noble freedom's rising race, 
 Who dares demand the lab'rers of a foreign place ; (h) 
 
 Undoubted yet, who may our freedom all efface, (i) 
 
 XXI 
 
 The ancients understood true Education's end. 
 And never failed, the means in beauty so to blend ; 
 That means elficient, might to object fit extend. 
 
 XXII 
 Our modern Sage pursues a more decisive course, 
 Relying all on sweet imagination's force, 
 H evaunts the end to reach, without the means' resource. 
 
100 
 
 XXIIl 
 
 A boy without a paltry dollar to his name, 
 
 Is led along th' enchanting, dizzy walks of fame ; 
 
 He's educated now, they lying, false proclaim. 
 
 xxiy 
 
 Can aught in Education's dream, more silly show : 
 
 A youth adrift, with all unlearnt, that he should know. 
 
 Is this a useful Education to bestow ? 
 
 XXV 
 
 The girl is ushered soon on life's eventful stage ; 
 Important duties has she learnt, at ev'ry stage ? 
 Do life's unflinching laws, her thoughts engage ? (j) 
 
 XXYI 
 So dazzling are the deeds of this esthetic age ; 
 Surpass they far, the brightest Greek, or Eoman page ; 
 But few the suff'rings human, they can e'er assuage. 
 
 xxYir 
 
 A maiden now can play, and thrill the cords of fate ; 
 Eelent, attune, the savage breast of life long hate ; 
 Discount the wonders, that the ablest men relate. 
 
 XXYIII 
 Beneath her queenly notice, are the body's needs ; 
 At thought of servile work's disgrace, her heart, it bleeds ; 
 And from the household cares, her step, it quick recedes. 
 
 XXIX 
 How can deluded educators of our race, 
 Direct misguided efforts to the proper place, 
 And so preserve a tottering state, from sure disgrace. 
 
 XXX 
 Defective Education may to evil train ; 
 With most pernicious notions, fill the weakest brain ; 
 Eratie, most destructive views, in naught retain. 
 
101 
 
 XXXI 
 
 Well should it teach the body, and th' immortal soul ; 
 Bring life's unerring aims, to one united whole ; 
 Direct, reduce, the passions to the mind's control. 
 
 XXXII 
 Contented then, confront we might the perils of the age ; 
 Act well our ever changing parts, on realistic stage ; 
 With God's eternal hopes, tormenting griefs might sweet 
 assuage. 
 
 XXXIII 
 And from the incessant labors of a passing state, 
 Our weary way might work, to torments' end, there date 
 Our blissful labors' lot, our joys for e'er relate. 
 
 -^<^^^'-^ 
 
-102- 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 (a) Developed. 
 
 (b) In the worse than useless endeavor to educate children for 
 a station in life, for which they have i»o natural bent, and no nat- 
 ural or acquired qualifications, necessarily required to insure 
 success. 
 
 fc) Has the country, I would ask, a class of more deadly ene- 
 mies than the Trades Unions, whose pohcy m excluding appren- 
 tice labor, effectually closes against the native Children of the 
 coantry, resident in the Cities, Towns and Villages, all the avenues 
 to the acquisition of a knowledge of skilled labor ; thus forcing 
 upon us a foreign eh'.ment not always m harmony with our Ke- 
 publican Institutions. Can any man of moderate ability, endowed 
 with am(idicum of good sense, and unbiased by national prejudice 
 or sympathy, maintain, that a man, born in a monarchical country, 
 can all of a sudden set aside kingly notions, and exchange them 
 for republican ideas. The absurdily of such a claim, is but too 
 evident to the least intelligent thinker. And what is still worse, 
 keeping in enforced idleness, large numbers of native children, 
 who in turn, must largely increase the tramp element of the 
 country. 
 
 Were a moiety of the money, vainly spent on strikes, judiciously 
 employed in providing self-owned habitations for the industrious, 
 deserving poor, we would then be cursed with fewer strikes. 'Jlie 
 majority of strikes, I believe, have been attended with no good 
 results to the strikers. The Telegraph Operators' strike, proved 
 in the end, a signal failure. Were the strikers to make a better 
 use of their earnings, strikes would soon become a feature of the 
 past. The following about Madame de Stael, I deem in point: 
 Madame de Stael on a certain occasion, busily occupied with her 
 literary productions, received a highly flattering compliment from 
 a visitor. "I do indeed. She sensibly replied, enjoy my literary 
 success, but 1 take far greater pride in the fact, that T have learnt 
 seventeen different trades, at any one of which, in case of need, 
 X could earn a livelihood." 
 
 (d) In a merely temporal point of view ; but still not to the ex- 
 clusion of the soul's superior claims. 
 
 (e) How rarely She learns these laws at a Boarding School. 
 (fi The drudges of the country. 
 
 (g) By the action of the Trades Unions in excluding apprentice 
 labor, the supply for the demand for skilled labor, must come 
 from Europe. 
 
 (h) Skilled laborers in large numbers. 
 
 (i] Not indeed, directly, btit truly and eventually so, by the 
 action of the Trades Unions, in excluding apprentice labor, thus 
 adding largely to the criminal classes of the country. The Legis- 
 tures of the different States might well take some action to check 
 this absoriDtion of the skilled labor of the country by European 
 workmen. Let the apprentice learn the humblest duties of his 
 trade, but still allow him to advance. 
 
 [j] Does She know anything about household economy. In 
 case of need, could she cook a good, square meal? Let Her 'by all 
 means, learn any and every ^Z/???^ that may serve to lighten the 
 hardships of after life; but let Her not neglect to learn, and to learn 
 w^ell, the necessary and useful details of household Economy. 
 
Coleman's Rural World. 
 
 According to the request of the Editor of Colman's 
 Rural World, I wrote three articles on Sunday Laws, 
 Sunday Observance, Sunday Amusements and Abuses. 
 Having been attacked with considerable violence and vir- 
 ulence, I justly considered, that undue forbearance, under 
 such circumstances, wotdd have ceased to be a virtue, I 
 did, in consequence, freely give my Assailants, a Roland 
 for an Oliver. My first Article appeared, July 26, 1883. 
 
 Those who may wish further information in regard to 
 my Prose and Poetry, can consult Colman's Rural World, 
 for the years 1883 and 1884. The Articles signed Juvenis, 
 have been written by the Author. The Pseudonym was 
 assumed, in order that information might be more freely 
 imparted,and more readily received, by those who needed it. 
 
 Fanny Erost and the Diamonds, and Poetry and But- 
 ter ventilated, appear for the first time. 
 
ARTICLES WRITTEN 
 
 FOR THE 
 
 RURAL WORLD. 
 
 SUNDAY LAWS. 
 
 We are social beings, born into a society that has its 
 established laws and usages. To free this whole subject 
 of Sunday Observance, as far as we are able, from the 
 numberless entanglements in which it is wrapped and 
 needlessly confused, let us enter on its discussion with the 
 statement of certain preliminary notions, without the clear 
 perception of which, we shall most assuredly render con- 
 fusion worse confounded, and still more obscure a subject 
 that ought to be otherwise sufficiently plain to the com- 
 prehension of an ordinary well-instructed mind. 
 
 Being not only social, but also rational beings, in our 
 intercourse with our fellow-men we must be guided, res- 
 trained and governed by law. What then, we naturally 
 ask, is law ? Law is the appointed rules of a community, 
 or state, for the control of its inhabitants, whether un- 
 written, as the common Law of England, or enacted by 
 formal statute, (a) or, a certain enactment of reason for 
 the common good, promulgated by him, who has the care 
 of the community, (b). 
 
 From this it would appear, that the promotion of the 
 common good is the happy result that law ought to ac- 
 complish. Laying this down as an incontrovertible prin- 
 
-106 - 
 
 ciple, how is the common good promoted by closing places 
 of legitimate amusement, and forbidding the sale of liquor 
 on Sunday ? Whose social rights are violated by the sale 
 of liquor on Sunday ? Nobody's social rights are abridged 
 or infringed by this practice. But you may vehemently 
 affirm that the unanimous religious sentiment of the en- 
 tire community loudly demands the enactment and the 
 enforcement of such a law. Such may be the heated 
 statements of red-hot religious enthusiasm, but I doubt 
 much whether the facts of the case would make good 
 these bold and over-confident assertions. In the present 
 diversity of religious sentiment on the Sunday Law ques- 
 tion, moderation ought to be the watch ward of all the 
 parties concerned. Only just once grant that the religious 
 sentiment of the community, or more properly speaking, 
 a portion of the community, requires such a law, then the 
 same religious sentiment may go on asserting itself 
 and increasing its enactments, until every vestige of social 
 rights is swept away, and the paramount claims of a large 
 portion of that same community may be ignored and vir- 
 tually nullified. For let me ask you in all sound reason, 
 when once the religious sentiment seizes on the Sunday 
 Law question, when will its morbid cravings ever be satis- 
 fied ? Kever. We would then have Sunday Law with a 
 vengeance. Why, may the enthusiasts exclaim, should so 
 glorious a work be ignobly stopped, when the dazzling, 
 dawning sun of glorious religious sentiment gives so fair 
 a promise of noon-day splendor, in the stalwart culmina- 
 tion of religious sentiment, that shall triumphantly efface 
 the last faint glimmerings of the depravity of the human 
 heart ? We have, indeed, it is true, closed the saloons, 
 
107 
 
 but oh ! how far still removed from perfection is our 
 goodly work ! Let us now" «top the engine and the iron 
 cars, and music having hushed its unseemly Sunday notes, 
 and the wagons, and the carriages, and the omnibuses, 
 having ceased their unsabbatical rumblings over the 
 granite-laid streets, we may sink down into a state of bles- 
 sed quietude, and thus sweetly fulfil the requirements of 
 a higher spirituality. 
 
 I am sure that the liberty-loving spirit of this age and 
 country will so exert, and so unmistakably assert itself, 
 that we shall never be called on to deplore the enactment 
 of such a villainous concatenation of tyrannical laws, 
 that would be the key note to the death of religious and 
 civil liberty. Extremes of religious sentiment are pro- 
 gressive as well as aggressive, and when able, they will 
 control man no less in his civil than in his religious rela- 
 tions. 
 
 Would it not prove more rational and more generally 
 satisfactory to pursue a medium course in relation to the 
 saloons, and thus all parties might be reasonably satisfied ? 
 Let the above mentioned places be closed until 12 o'clock. 
 After that hour (not to shock anybody's fiiner sensibilities) 
 do not open them, but let them remain unclosed during the 
 rest of the day. 
 
 (a) Dr. Webster, (b) St. Thomas. 
 
 SUNDAY OBSERVANCE. 
 
 Besides the discharge of his social duties towards his 
 fellow-man, man as creature, is still further bound by ob- 
 ligations of a higher order toward his Creator. Before 
 the origin of profane history, and at the very dawn of the 
 
^ 108 
 
 Imman race, we see Cain and Abel making their offerings 
 to the Supreme Being, and thus acknowledging their de- 
 pendence on Him. This sense of dependence on a Supreme 
 Boing, is a sentiment deeply, and I might almost say, 
 universally impressed on the whole human race. Cicero 
 has substantially said : There is no nation that has not 
 its gods, its priests and its sacrifices. Pliny makes men- 
 tion of certain infidels of his time, who denied the exis- 
 tence of the gods, but when they found themselves in im- 
 minent danger, then they forgot their infidelity, and then 
 they became as anxious as the most fervent believer, to 
 obtain the assistance of these same gods, whose existence 
 just a moment before, they had so stoutly denied. 
 
 Among most nations, fixed days, in the course of time, 
 were set apart and dedicated to the service of the gods. 
 
 This we find to have been the case, from a very early 
 period of history, and passing by the remotest records of 
 other nations, we come down to the Jewish people, among 
 whom we find established a large number of festivals or 
 holidays, and notably that of the Sabbath, which recurred 
 every seventh day, and the most exact observance of which 
 among them, was of most rigorous obligation. No servile 
 work was allowed to be performed on that day. Just here 
 we may remark, that there are three different classes of 
 works. 
 
 1. Servile works, such as are preformed by servants, 
 work hands, or helps, or persons who serve others in a 
 menial capacity. Works of this class are forbidden on 
 Sunday, except in case of necessity. 
 
 2. There are liberal works, such as to teach, to con- 
 sult lawyers, to paint or draw artistically, to sing and to 
 
109 
 
 play on musical instruments. These works are forbidden 
 by no law, and they are unhesitatingly performed by per- 
 sons of w^ell-balanoed minds and most delicate conscien- 
 ces. 
 
 3. Certain works are called common, which are alike 
 done by master or servant, as to drive carriages or hunt 
 game. The intention of the person in the preformance of 
 any one of the preceding works, does not change the na- 
 ture of the work. 
 
 A man for his amusement might mow grass, or hew 
 out dimension rock on Sunday, but this would not elevate 
 his servile work to the dignity of a liberal occupation. 
 Having now, in part at least, disposed of what regards 
 the occupation of the body on Sunday, let us next address 
 ourselves to the arduous task of pointing out, what ought 
 to be the mental employment of the Sunday, in a spiritual 
 point of view, and in relation to the service of our Creator. 
 The Commandment says : " Eemember thou keep holy 
 the Sabbath day. You shall do no servile work therein." 
 Levit. c. xxiii. v. 8-9. These words point out to us a very 
 plain duty, the rendering of divine service to Almighty 
 God, and the abstaining from laborious secular employ- 
 ments. In regard to the non-performance of heavy Sun- 
 day work, all parties are pretty well agreed : but the 
 amount of spiritual work, that should fall to the portion 
 of each one, is a hotly disputed point, and as such, so 
 much warmth and passion are often displayed, that not 
 unfrequently the calm dictates of reason are lost sight of, 
 or totally ignored in the rancor of discussion. Some ex- 
 tremists are strongly in favor of keeping the mind run- 
 ning the whole entire day in a religious groove of the most 
 
— no — 
 
 rigorous and approved pattern. Children's minds, accor- 
 ding to this refining process, are to be subjected to the 
 same mental tension. But Quintilian, a master mind on 
 this point, aptly says : that children's minds are like a 
 precious vase, capable of containing only a small quantity 
 of precious liquor at a time. But now what is more 
 precious than proper religious training, provided it is im- 
 parted in a manner proportioned to the capacity of the 
 receiver ? By the modern process, in the United States, 
 their minds are crammed with religious instruction on 
 Sunday, a surfeit is the natural result, and in after life, 
 their reminiscences of the Sunday, are far from being of . 
 the most agreeable nature. To them the Sunday thus be- 
 comes a day of torture, instead of a day of rest. They 
 plainly see that to others and to almost everything else, 
 the Sunday is a day of comparative repose and relaxation ; 
 but they sensibly /ee^ that such a vast amount of religious 
 work and occupation is crowded into their still tender 
 minds, and by which their weak frames are so heavily 
 handicapped, that Sunday to their pleasure-loving hearts, 
 is indeed, a terribly dreary, dull day. Does it stand to 
 reason to so burden the opening mind of childhood, that 
 its earliest adoration of its Creator is crushed out by the 
 insipid and oppressive requirements of relentless, morbid, 
 sentimental manhood? For where is the warrant in 
 Scripture, or anywhere else, that the proper observance 
 of the Sunday requires the unbroken occupation of the 
 mind in the contemplation of heavenly truth, and in the 
 actual and uninterrupted exhibition of divine service to 
 Almighty God ? Were this programme to be carried out 
 rigorously, then indeed, would Sunday be to most people 
 
— Ill — 
 
 no day of rest, or relaxation. Is not that degree of mental 
 effort often required of children which renders the Sunday 
 to them an irksome day, hemmed in by too many religious 
 observances ? Even in the case of adults the religious 
 duties of the Sunday may be pushed too far. Chafing 
 under the influence of too much restraint, might not the 
 intelligent, inquiring mind be tempted to ask, why should 
 Sunday, a day of rest, instituted by God Almighty him- 
 self, be turned into a day of unremitting mental toil. 
 Extremists in Church and State might not always find it 
 so easy to give a satisfactory reason, justifying the many 
 vexatious restraints imposed upon the liberty of the com- 
 munity on a day, that ought to be truly a day of rest for 
 body and mind ? In the case of the young, who are yet 
 of feeble mind, the Sunday ought to be a day of pleasing 
 anticipations, to be realized in the enjoyment of rational 
 pleasures, that the retrospect in after life may be fraught 
 with naught else but the most pleasing recollections. If 
 the trainers of youth fail to accomplish this, then is the 
 Sunday robbed of the beneficial effects which it ought to 
 produce on the youthful mind. 
 
 SUNDAY AMUSEMENTS AND ABUSES. 
 
 In the discussion of the Sunday question, we have at 
 last reached the much mooted, vexed, and tortured topic 
 of Sunday Amusements. Are any amusements allowed 
 on Sunday ? Some say yes, and some say no, and others 
 sanction such amusements, or relaxation, or state of re- 
 pose, as are not within the reach of society at large. 
 
 Those who allow amusements on Sunday, maintain, 
 that after having devoted a reasonable portion of the day 
 
112 
 
 to religious exercises, which are expressly directed to the 
 public and divine worship of Almighty God, that then 
 they may innocently pass other portions of the day in 
 amusement and relaxation, and the amusements, too, may 
 be of a noisy nature, as base ball, town ball, and foot ball. 
 
 There are about two hundred millions of Catholic 
 Christians, who substantially take this view of Sunday 
 amusements, and who justly deem their use no infraction 
 of the Divine law. 
 
 They regard the Sunday as a day af rest for body and 
 soul, and consistently with this belief, they refuse to pass 
 it in a humdrum way, listless and joyous ; with mock 
 solemnity, and moroseness acute depicted on body and 
 mind, graphically impressing the startled beholder with 
 the vivid conviction of the woeful effects wrought in the 
 human soul, by the commission of the seven deadly sins. 
 We have, they truthfully conclude, no dictate of reason, 
 no scriptural authority, and no doctrinal decision, that 
 requires us to change the Sunday into a day of unalterable 
 gloom. 
 
 Others again tolerate no Sunday amusements. Accor- 
 ding to them you may read papers, you may frequent 
 theatres to your heart's contend on week daj^s; but on 
 Sunday, these same innocent amusements become criminal, 
 and render the perpetrator amenable to punishment for 
 the infraction of the Divine law. To this I reply, that 
 what is asserted without proof, may be refuted in the same 
 easy way, without given proof or reason. 
 
 You then approve of Sunday theatres ? ISTot so fast, 
 my friend. I most emphatically do not approve of Sun- 
 day theatres, but a person might think and act differently 
 
113 
 
 without sin, being guided by his conscience, whicli is a 
 practical dictate, decision, or judgment of reason, point- 
 ing oat to his mind wliat he ought to do, or omit, here and 
 now. Of course, I am intimately persuaded that Sunday 
 will ever remain with us, a time-honored day, but to sup- 
 pose that the restraints and prohibitions of the childhood 
 of a nation, can still be maintained if the advancing vigor 
 of manhood of that same nation, would seem to mark the 
 rankest folly of a narrow-minded man. Sunday travel 
 in the present material condition of this country cannot, 
 and will not be stopped. And I feel assured, that no 
 Sabbatical sophistry or nonsense of any denomination 
 shall ever be able to succeed in effecting such abolition. 
 Were this unfortunately to happen, we would then have 
 inflicted on us the Sabbath of the wealthy, whose amuse- 
 ments after six days' use, might well be stopped on one 
 day, to be resumed on the next, with increased relish, and 
 with renewed zest. Such a Sunday, however, would be 
 no day of rest to the humbler classes of society. They are 
 entitled to have a chance to enjoy on the only day within 
 their reach, the sources of amusement afforded them by 
 the parks and other public resorts of a vast and thriving 
 city, and which parks have been mainly acquired by the 
 combined labors of all the citizens. The Sunday is their 
 Sabbath, the day of rest, given to them by Almighty God 
 Himself. If, with the power of the ballot in their hands, 
 they should allow it to be wrested from them, then indeed, 
 would they richly deserve their subsequent degredation. 
 For what can be more galling or degrading, to the intelli- 
 gent mind, than the consciousness of having lost inesti- 
 mable advantages, through supine indifference in the non- 
 
114 
 
 use of the ballot, which every freeman ought to know, 
 when, and how to use. 
 
 I now bring together two texts of scripture, that seem 
 to explain ODe another. Eemember thou keep holy the 
 Sabbath Day. Exodus ch. xxv. 8. And he said to them : 
 the Sabbath was made for man and not man for the Sab- 
 bath. Mark c. ii. v. 27. The Sunday, therefore, was made 
 for man, not man for it. Let him not then become its 
 slave ; but let him commingle divine service, and rational 
 enjoyment, and noisy enjoyment, at that too, if he so 
 chooses, not however, without due regard to time and 
 place, as others' rights must be respected and properly, 
 protected. 
 
 Finally, are there any abuses connected with the Sun- 
 day ? I suppose there are, as some persons turn it too 
 much into a day of enjo^^ment of one sort or other. In- 
 dulgence in social enjoyments on Saturday night, beyond a 
 reasonable hour, and which are indulged in so far, as to 
 render the mind unfit for the discharge of Sunday obliga- 
 tions, may be regarded as a constructive violation of this 
 day. It ought to be, more or less, a day of comparative 
 quiet. This idea of quiet may be worked out in the mind, 
 at all times of the day^ and amidst what might otherwise 
 act as unavoidable and most prolific sources of mental dis- 
 sipation. Now, although the Sunday is eminently the 
 day of the Lord, nevertheless, the soul can be profitably 
 conscious of this fact, and still do ample justice to a great 
 many independent and divergent trains of thought. 
 Granting, which cannot be denied, that the soul has this 
 power of multiplying and guiding its intellectual activity, 
 it follows as a necessary consequence, that the fewer Sun- 
 
115 
 
 day laws we shall have inflicted on us, the better it will be 
 for the rich, the poor, and all other classes of society. 
 We, the American people, will possess and enjoy freedom 
 of action, and the largest share of it too, that can be made 
 compatible with rational freedom. 
 
 N. B.— I cannot see the great good: that some persons 
 fondly imagine to themselves, must necessarily result 
 from the closing of the saloons on Sunday. 
 
 FRANK TO THE REV. GEO. WATSON. 
 
 An article appeared in the Eural of July 26th, entitled 
 '' Sunday Laws, Observance, Amusements and Abuses," 
 that is for reckless sentiment simply astounding. Had the 
 writer thereof humbly subscribed himself a member of 
 the '' American Brewer's Association," I would not won- 
 der at the declarations contained therein, but when he 
 meekly appended the name of Rev. Geo. A. Watson, I 
 was astonished beyond all measure. He states that " as 
 we are social and rational beings, we must be restrained 
 by law." So much so good, but before he gets through, 
 questions our right to do any such thing, and then goes on 
 to define law, and does so correctly, and then very proper- 
 ly adds : '' From this it would appear that the promotion 
 of the common good is the happy result that law ought to 
 accomplish," and then asks, " how is the common good 
 promoted by closing places of legitimate amusement, and 
 forbidding the sale of liquor on Sunday." ^ow, there is 
 such a thing as places of legitimate amusement, and if 
 wrong to close those places on Sunday, then it follows it 
 is wrong to forbid any kind of legitimate work upon that 
 day ; or in other words, it is all wrong to protect our Sab- 
 
116 
 
 bath at all. Who is so blind that he can not see that the 
 gentleman's position is for doing away with the Sabbath 
 entirely ; and what nation ever did so, that did not lapse 
 into a state of barbarism ? Why should that Eev. gen- 
 tleman favor the sale of liquor as a beverage at all, either 
 Sunday or at any other time ? Senator Wilson once said : 
 " If there is any one thing known to human society wholly 
 unassociated with any good, it is the saloon system." 
 Does our friend not know that 60,000 poor inebriates in 
 this country alone, are annually going down into a drunk- 
 ard's grave, and to a drunkard's hell ? Does he not know 
 that that system is the cause of four-fifths of the crime of 
 the country ? The cause of the majority of the cases of 
 lunacy and demented persons? Does he not know that 
 the liquor traffic is conducive of debauchery, heartaches, 
 misery and w^oe all around us ! The cause of a great deal 
 of useless taxation ? The cause of the majority of the 
 bad houses of our cities, and the long murder trials ? Is 
 it possible, that that Rev. gentleman is so blind that he 
 can't see that that which produces such direful results 
 must be detrimental to the " common good," and there- 
 fore by closing such places the '' common good " is promo- 
 ted ? He asks : '' Whose social rights are violated by the 
 sale of liquor on Sunday ? " I answer, that poor, wretch- 
 ed mother who is made a pauper on account of drink ; 
 that little child that comes into this world demented on 
 account of drinking parents ; that poor lunatic (made so 
 by drink) who has killed the wife of his bosom ; that 
 poor inebriate wretch who occupies a felon's cell. He 
 further adds. '' But you may vehemently affirm that the 
 unanimous religious sentiment of the entire community 
 
117 
 
 loudly demands the enactment and the enforcement of 
 such a law." Why did he not say the moral sentiment 
 makes such a demand, for such is the case. He further 
 adds: '* Such may be the heated statements of red-hot 
 religious enthusiasm," as though, because we stand boldly 
 for che right, and against that which tends to stamp out 
 all that is noble in man, that we are to be sneered at as 
 '' red-hot religious enthusiasts." Again, '' only just once 
 grant that the religious sentiment of the community, or 
 more properly speaking, a portion of the community, re- 
 quires snch a law, then the same religious sentiment may 
 go on asserting itself and increasing its enactments until 
 every vestige of social rights is swept away, and the para- 
 mount claims of a large portion of that same community 
 may be ignored and virtually nullified." What astound- 
 ing language coming from such a source, '' only once grant 
 such a law is required." What law ? why a law, to render 
 sacred the holy Sabbath; that God in his wisdom has 
 given us and commanded us to keep sacred — a law to pre- 
 vent debauchery and rioting on the Sabbath day, and to 
 protect the reverend gentleman and his congregation in 
 the house of God and at their homes— a law that has 
 been enacted by every Christian nation, and violated only 
 by barbarians or heathens—" the paramount claims of a 
 portion of the community may be ignored." What does 
 he mean by such claims ? Is it the claim of every man to 
 do just as he pleases ? That is just the claim every crim- 
 inal in the land sets up. The James and Younger boys 
 never set up any other. He then asks : " When once the 
 religious sentiment seizes on the Sunday law question, 
 when will its morbid cravings ever be satisfied ? " Is it 
 
138 
 
 not strange that a religious teacher who is supposed to 
 love God, and humanity, should talk of the religious sen- 
 timent, the Sunday Law question and its morbid cravings. 
 Why use the term morbid cravings ? Is it not right for 
 Christianity to hate evil and everything that has a ten- 
 dency to dethrone the right ? What gospel does the gen 
 tleman preach, if it is not of right living and doing? 
 Sabbath desecration and liquor selling defeats anything 
 of the kind, then why should our reverend friend uphold 
 that which defeats his mission ? He sneeringly iutimates 
 that after we have closed the saloons then we will be in 
 favor of stopping the engine and even cars, the wagons, 
 and carriages, and thus sweetly fulfill the requirements of 
 a higher spirituality, as though there was great danger 
 of this world becoming entirely too good to dwell in. 
 After which he adds : ''I am sure that the liberty-loving 
 spirit of this age and country will so exert and so unmis- 
 takably assert itself that we shall never be called on to 
 deplore the enactment of such a villainous, concatenation 
 of tyrannical laws, that would be the key note to the 
 death of religious and civil liberty." Liberty ! yes lib- 
 erty ! how brave we ought to feel in thy august presence. 
 The inference to be drawn from the above assertion of our 
 friend is, there might possibly be a little rebellion got up 
 on the part of those liberty-loving spirits of the age undei' 
 certain contingencies, and in the event of such a thing 
 taking place, we are to understand in ''unmistakable'' 
 terms upon which side our friend proposes to fight, pro- 
 viding he don't run. The poor inebriate lying helpless in 
 the gutter, grunts at the passer-by and exclaims " hands 
 off." I am just enjoying my civil liberty. The '' liberty- 
 
119 
 
 loving spirit of the age " is upon him in full force, in fact 
 is weighing him down— just that and nothing more. The 
 frequenter of tlie bawdy house says, mind your own busi- 
 ness, 1 am only enjoying my civilliberty, notwithstanding 
 tlie good Book declares hell and destruction are before 
 him. Let the man that clamors for the saloon in the name 
 of civil rights, beware lest in so doing he inflicts civil 
 w^rongs, which may awaken in his soul Macbeth's des- 
 pairing cry, '' Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this 
 blood clean from my hands ? " 
 
 Our reverend friend further says: ''Let the above 
 mentioned places, (saloons,) be closed until 12 o'clock, 
 after that hour do not open them, but let them remain 
 unclosed during the rest of the day." Demagogue-like, is 
 that not a brilliant solution of the whole question ? Why 
 be so particular about the hour of 12 ? Oh, I presume our 
 friend about that time will be through with his discourse 
 upon God's dealings with the children of men, especially 
 his denunciations of the drunkard, and such as put the 
 cup to a brother's lips, and after dismission they can retire 
 to the unclosed saloons for the '• remainder of the day ; " 
 and all in the name of " civil and religious liberty." That 
 dauntless woman of the French Kepublic, Madame Ko- 
 land, while upon the scaffold, erected at the foot of the 
 statute of Liberty, and with the last pulse-beat of her im- 
 passioned soul, seized the pen and wrote, "Oh, Liberty! 
 what deeds are done in thy name, " Frank." 
 
 Eest. Kansas 
 
120 
 
 FRANK'S FANCIES' FREAKS. 
 
 SUNDAY LAWS. 
 
 To fairly estimate a writer's remarks and statements, 
 concomitant facts or circumstances cannot be neglected, 
 or ignored, witliout doing liim a manifest injustice, ^ow, 
 wliat are the circumstances surrounding the writer, who 
 wrote on Sunday Laws, and whose article was published 
 in CoLMAN's Rural Would of July 26. Briefly, they 
 are the following : The saloons of St. Louis and other 
 large cities of Missouri, and the small ones too, for aught 
 he knows to the contrary, are freely allowed to sell liquor 
 on six days of the week, and I may surely question the 
 great good that can be effected by closing them on Sunday, 
 or whether any good whatever is effected by so doing. 
 This is a debatable question, and of such a nature, too, 
 that the fact of my taking the negative or affirmative side, 
 ought not to have been deemed worthy of blame : but it 
 is a characteristic trait of building, gushing manhood, to 
 condemn in unmeasured terms, any opinion that may hap- 
 pen to thwart its initial, crude notions. I excuse thee, 
 young man ; thy too incoherent utterances are, as I might 
 almost say, naught else than the natural defects of thy 
 present state of mental development. Advancing age 
 will doubtless tone down the offensive exuberances of 
 youthful inconsideration, and consequent natural impetu- 
 osity. 
 
 The moderate use of beer and other liquors cannot be 
 condemned, and the law that forbids their sale or use, is 
 merely penal in its effects. As my remarks do not call for 
 the discussion of the prohibition question, or the evils 
 
-121- 
 
 resTilting from liquor's intemperate use, I decline to take 
 it up, as irrelevant to the subject anderdiscussion, at least 
 in the only way in which, just now, I choose to view it. 
 
 Our views in regard to the observance of the Sabbath, 
 are, I suppose, radically different. But what I have said, 
 cannot, I imagine, be fairly construed, as aiming at the 
 abolition of proper Sunday observances. I do, however, 
 most decidedly object to too much law or restraint, on 
 this point. Had Sunday a voice, it might justly exclaim : 
 Oh ! save me from my friends, whose intemperate and 
 indiscriminate zeal inflicts on me my most deadly wounds, 
 and whose fiery zeal, unsupported and unguided by 
 knowledge, only serves to increase the evils, which other- 
 wise, I might most easily remedy. 
 
 My sentiments on this subject have been well consid- 
 ered, and guardedly and moderately stated. Your attack, 
 however, in regard to my views, is reckless to tjie last de- 
 gree. Take my advice, friend Frank, consult Webster 
 Unabridged, on social and reckless^ and then candidly 
 confess, how very reckless you have shown yourself in 
 your uncalled for attack on me. I reject the substitution 
 of your moral sentiment^ as I consider religious sentiment 
 to be the proper word to express the meaning, which I 
 intend to convey. There is a vast difference between 
 moral and religious sentiment. The morbid, religious 
 sentiment of a community might require many things to 
 be done, or omitted, which bear little, or no relation to 
 morality. A few words of explanation, I now regard as 
 in order. Were a farmer to use five horses where three 
 would be amply sufficient, then and there would we have 
 a reckless expenditure of force ; and were he to invite his 
 
]92_ 
 
 friends to an infare, and send fchem home fasting, he would 
 be guilty of violating their social rights. Were he, how- 
 ever, to treat them in right royal style, and such a guest 
 would drow^n reason in wine, then such a guest would 
 abuse the social rights of his host ; and were this guest to 
 go staggering along the streets, then he would violate the 
 civil rights of the citizens. Were he, in the next place, 
 taken to the hospital and reduced to death's door, and 
 should the services of a clergyman of his choice "be re- 
 fused him, we would have a clear case of the violation of 
 his religious rights. Finally, his legal rights might be 
 violated by a total disregard of his last will and testament. 
 
 In the course of your strictures, you incorrectly strive 
 to maintain, that if it i^ wrong to close legitimate places 
 of amusement on Sunday, then it would be wrong to for- 
 bid any legitimate work on Sunday. I deny your conclu- 
 sion, and^ I thus distinguish: In the case of most 
 of those, who frequent places of legitimate amuse- 
 ment on Sunday, as the parks, the Fair Grounds, etc., 
 this performance on their part is not a servile work. It is to 
 them a mere amusement, and they can enjoy it to their 
 hearts' content, and still find ample time for complying 
 with their obligation of Sunday worship. The service of 
 God is a voluntary act, and the increasing of Sunday res- 
 traint will not much advance the cause of religion. 
 
 Servile works, as a general thing, are forbidden in 
 Christian communities. But stop all servile work on Sun- 
 day, as I have elsewhere stated, and then who is so blind 
 as not to see, that this would result in the total abolition 
 of the Sunday, as a day of rest and relaxation, in regard 
 to far the larger number of the inhabitants of the popu- 
 
-123- 
 
 lous cities. I have already sufficiently explained this : I, 
 therefore, refrain from further repetitions. 
 
 '' Only once grant, etc," Frank now becomes virtu- 
 ously indignant, and the gist of his reasoning is this : 
 The saloons ought to be closed on Sunday, and the result 
 would be the sanctification of the Sunday. I deny the 
 correctness of such a conclusion, as the numberless facili- 
 ties afforded for obtaining liquors on Saturday, would 
 mainly, if not wholly and inevitably, defeat the end pro- 
 posed to be accomplished by the Sunday law. In fact, it 
 would make bad much worse, as whisky and other ardent 
 drinks would be more freely used than on any other day 
 of the week. 
 
 I protest against Frank's glib way of garbling my 
 sentences. I have not spoken against all Sunday laws, 
 but I do strongly oppose oppressive Sunday enactments, 
 w^hich unnecessarily abridge, or restrain the liberty of the 
 citizen. Public sentiment, and next the ballot, will even- 
 tually settle this much vexed question. 
 
 What you say further on about the James and the 
 Younger boys, is entirely foreign to the subject under dis- 
 cussion. Your lucid remarks about morbid cravings, I 
 pass by, as I do not choose to discuss the successive parts 
 of a garbled sentence, which ought not to be so considered ; 
 but in its entirety. I insert the following sentence entire : 
 '' I am sure, that the liberty-loving spirit of this age and 
 country will so exert, and will so unmistakably assert itself, 
 that we shall never be called on to deplore the enactment 
 of such a villainous concatenation of tyrannical laws, 
 that would be the key note to the death of religious and 
 civil liberty," Let any fair minded, intelligent pers0n. 
 
-124- 
 
 read the immediately preceding sentence, and connect it 
 with the one just given above, and then I would confident- 
 ly venture to say, that no one coidd possibly draw the in- 
 ferences, that Frank has so recklessly drawn. If I had 
 used the word license, instead of liberty, in the last sen- 
 tence, prank's conclusi ns might be regarded as sufficient- 
 ly deducible from the premises ; but since I did not use 
 the word license, nor any other word, or words of like im- 
 port, I decline to follow Frank in his erratic line of reason- 
 ing. Towards the end, Frank becomes pathetic, and pours 
 out the vials of his wrath on the unoffending word " un- 
 closed," and styles its use demagogic. Perhaps he vaguely 
 meant to insinuate, that the word open should have been 
 used in preference. Cavilling, captious, carping, censor- 
 ious critic, I would like to call your attention to the fol- 
 lowing sentence, which is found near the end of my arti- 
 cle on the Sunday Law question : " Extremes of religi- 
 ous sentiment are progressive as well as aggressive, and 
 when able, they will control man no less in his civil, than 
 in his religious relations." Friend Frank, read Cobbett's 
 Reformation, a work written by a Protestant. In it you 
 may see the various enactments of a dominant religious 
 sentiment, backed by the power of the State and the 
 cruelties therein described, ought to be sufficient to inspire 
 free men, and the lovers of freedom, with a fixed, abiding 
 and unalterable determination, to keep every species of 
 religious fanaticism under due control. We have had 
 examples, even in this, our own country, of the excesses 
 to which the religious sentiment drives its votaries. 
 
 The early history of the Kew England States and of 
 Virginia, affords abundant proofs of the necessity of 
 
-125- 
 
 curbini,^ the outbursts of religious fanaticism, when it 
 dares to step beyond the bounds of li^^ht reason. Crude 
 religious dechimation, Frank, and not to the point at that, 
 will not always pass unchallenged by sensible people. If 
 they are shorn of too much of their liberty, no matter on 
 Avbat day this may happen, you may rest assured that a 
 reaction will infallibly come, and then the friends of 
 rational Sunday observances, may not find it so easy a 
 task to stem the sweeping, raging adverse current of un- 
 duly repressed human rights. And f^mong these Frank, 
 there is none that is sweeter to the human soul than free- 
 dom of thought and action. 
 
 Oh ! naughty Frank, you have said so many and such 
 funny things in relation to my first article on the Sunday 
 question, that 1 really begin to suspect, that after all, you 
 are surely just a bit of a wag. Try, try, again, Frank. 
 I have two more articles on. the Sunday question, that I 
 wishfully trust may meet with your supreme approbation. 
 Ko doubt in years to come you will better understand the 
 issues of life and death, and. the roads that lead thereto, 
 and then you will be astounded at the narrowness of the 
 channel, through which your thoughts now do flow. I^ot 
 unlike an angry torrent sweeping down a mountain side, 
 dealing death and destruction to all that come within its 
 reach. 
 
 The torrent now has ceased its ragings, and, changed 
 into a placid stream, it majestically sweeps along in its 
 beneficent course, meandering through charming, bound- 
 less stretches of meadow land and yellow, waving fields of 
 grain, dispensing blessings unmeasured to the happy cul- 
 tivators of the soil. Not unlike old age, enriched with 
 
the garnered treasures of a cultivated youth, culminating 
 in the matured and rational enjoyments of a ripe old age, 
 beautifully repaying the aged farmer's well-spent days, 
 and fitly ushering him forward on to the enjoyment of 
 untold bliss, in the thrice happy mansions of the blessed, 
 replete with theexultant songs of Christ's crowned heroes. 
 Finally, Friend Frank, allow me the exqidsite pleasure 
 of regaling you with a poetic effusion : 
 
 And if, perchance, the plural forward move, 
 Displace it not from most unwonted groove : 
 
 KAKSAS. 
 
 Sweet Kansas, in most doleful plight, 
 Caught fire about the Sunday right. 
 From outward bark, to inmost core, 
 Incensed they grew, so very more. 
 With eye severe, they rufiled view, 
 The height of knowledge, as they knew. 
 Missouri's shores, they wrathful leave, 
 And for her sins they hotly grieve ; 
 Yet, still, the mighty wonder grew. 
 That, heads so small, too much they knew. 
 
 SUNDAY LAW. 
 
 REPLY TO REY GEO. A. WATSOH, 
 
 "The hottest horse will oft be cool. 
 The dullest wilj show fire ; 
 The friar will sometimes play the fool. 
 The fool will play the friar." 
 Which is it in your case— my friend, the Kev. Geo. A. 
 Watson ? The latter, I think, for I sorely suspect you of 
 
^^127 
 
 having '' stole the livery of heaven to serve the devil in." 
 Priest or layman, I shall treat you as you treat yourself. 
 The sentiments to which you give utterance in discussing 
 the Sunday Law, are unworthy of your high calling. 
 They are anti-Christian. They suggest a retreat into bar- 
 barism. Civilization, sir, makes no retrogrades. Her 
 watchword is ''forward." At the head of her thunder- 
 ing squadrons, the bugle sounds the charge, never the 
 retreat. In the van of her flight, ever flutters '' the ban- 
 ner with the strange device : Excelsior." This is the 
 age of progress. Her dazzling sun, cleaving its way to- 
 ward the zenith where sits the millennium, never throws 
 its shadow backwards on the dial. That you have ap- 
 proached your subject with some perturbation is evinced 
 by a degree of nervousness about your style, which, though 
 it might have existed, we have not before observed. In 
 short, sir, your rhetoric seems suffering from a severe at- 
 tack of St. Vitus' Dance. Hopeful signs that you are 
 newly treading " the by-ways and alleys of sin," and will 
 soon observe that 
 
 '' Every devious step thus trod 
 Still leads you farther from the road." 
 i'or all your effort to avoid rendering " confusion worse 
 confounded," which, by the way you should have enclosed 
 in quotation marks, you seem to have got somewhat mud- 
 dled. The subject is not ''wrapped in numberless entangle- 
 ments," as you seem to think. The complexities which 
 enshroud it are purely imaginary, and the mists that 
 seem to compass it about, are but the result of a befogged 
 mental vision. Your verbose definition of law, amounts 
 to nothing. Everybody knows what law is. The question 
 
simply involves the right of a state to restrict by law, or 
 an enactment of reason for the common good, if that 
 suits you better— the sale of intoxicants upon the Lord's 
 Day. In your argument, you have developed nothing 
 new. One hundred and ninety-five years ago the coming 
 October, the gallant hero of the house of :N"assau, with 
 his little escort of live hundred sails, came sailing over the 
 autumnal seas to '' inquire into the pretended birth of a 
 supposed Prince of Wales," and to establish the manu- 
 facture of strong liquors in England. Your arguments 
 have been howled from every bar-room in Christendom 
 from that day to this. The only noticeable pecularity 
 about it is, that we hear it from the pulpit for the first 
 time. The right of a nation, or state, or community, to 
 protect itself against marauders, thieves, murderers, pub- 
 lic nuisances, baleful influences, or anything that tends 
 to the corruption of public morals is older even than this. 
 It is coeval even with law itself. Anything that affects 
 the moral status of society is a proper subject for legisla- 
 tion. Where the moral standing of society is high, com- 
 munities are law-abiding ; hence the cost of judicial pro- 
 ceedings is proportionally low, and pauperism is the ex- 
 ception rather than the rule. Where the moral standing 
 is low, the reverse is true. There can be no better test of 
 this moral standingof a community than the respect it has 
 for the Sabbath, and any law, custom, usage or practice, 
 that tends to belittle that respect, tends also to the inevit- 
 able debauching of public morals. Little by little the 
 leaven of unrighteousness works its way through the mass 
 of the body politic, and by the inevitable workings of the 
 law of cause and effect, lawlessness follows ; crime sue- 
 
129 
 
 ceeds, pauperism, police, courts, taxes. Anytliing tliat 
 diminishes a man's abilities to provide the necessaries of 
 life for his family, is a proper subject for legislative con- 
 trol, and may be restricted or entirely prohibited, just as 
 the highest needs of society demand. Any person who 
 engages in a business that eats up the substance of the 
 bread- wijmer without returning a substantial equivalent— 
 by which the dependent ones are thrown upon the char- 
 ities of the public for the bread that is to keep starvation 
 from the door— clearly infringes the rights of that public. 
 No one has a right to pile up expenses for others to pay. 
 This, I think, no fair person will deny. That the retailer 
 of intoxicants is engaged in just such a business, " goes 
 without saying." That the practice of keeping open sa- 
 loons on the very day on which legitimate biisines is sus- 
 pended, when those w^ho labored through the week, and 
 have in their pockets the balance of their week's earnings 
 that may have survived the carouse of Saturday night, 
 are at leisure, is the prolific cause of half the pauperism 
 in our towns and villages ; in that it affords an opportuni- 
 ty, for spending the last dime in drink, which, but for the 
 opportunity, might have been saved for the wants of 
 needy families, requires but a glance of the mind to prove. 
 And yet, our reverend friend tells us, no one's rights 
 are infringed. Three-fourths of the miseries and crimes 
 that fill our land with mourning, and cover our age with 
 disgrace, may be traced to Falcons. And yet, nobody's 
 rights are infringed. Forsooth ! Pandemonium let loose 
 at our doors, and no infrir;gment on our riglits? Are 
 nobody's rights infringed when the youth o' oui- h rd. 
 who are one day to fill offices of State, and liold tlu^ lu hu 
 
130 
 
 of Government, are surrounded by the damnable influ- 
 ences that are to work their ruin ? That attract with 
 their glitter, that dazzle with all the fiendish fascination 
 of stained glass, of music, breathing sweet and low, while 
 painted nymphs, in tinsel and paste diamonds, like so 
 many dancing dervishes, are whirling and gliding before 
 the footlights, lill bewildered by the dazzle, the glitter 
 and the glare— like the poor silly moth that circles round 
 the light, continually shortening the axis of its orbit, till 
 finally its wings are scorched— they are drawn by an in- 
 visible force into the whirling, seething maelstrom that 
 shall engulf them? Are nobody's rights infringed when 
 the sad, heart-rending wail of some poor, half demented 
 mother, who has a terrible cause for her anxiety, comes 
 throbbing through the darkness : '' Where is my wander, 
 ing boy to-night ? " My friend, the Eev. Geo. A. Watson, 
 can you conceive of anything so full of despair, so fraught 
 with unutterable anguish, so big with reproof for the men 
 who see no infringement of anyone's rights in the retailing 
 of this devil's broth on Sunday, as these words ? If you 
 can, I cannot. Are nobody's rights infringed when the 
 shout of obscene hilarity and maudlin glee comes welling 
 up from some low groggery. or the blood-curdling cry of 
 murder comes shrilling through the night, scaring us from 
 our dreams, as some poor soul is hurled in a moment of 
 time, stupified with drink into the presence of his Maker ? 
 And as his drunken eyes see the balance wherein his vices 
 and his virtues are being weighed, will not that shrinking 
 quivering soul mumble in explanation of his fault— our 
 minister so taught us ? 
 
 Where then shall you stand, my clerical friend ? Well 
 
-131- 
 
 may that stern Judge say, as did poor Constance of Bre- 
 tagiie to Diike Lymoges, of Austria : 
 
 '' Thou cold-blooded slave, 
 Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side, 
 Been sworn, my soldier, bid me depend 
 Upon thy stars, thy fortune and thy strength, 
 And wilt thou now fall over to my foes ? 
 Thou wear the lion's hide I doff it for shame 
 And hang a calf's skin on thy recreant limbs*" 
 Ham Lake, Minn. Freb. 
 
 P. S.— The above was written Aug. 3d, but before I 
 could send it Bon Ami came dashing up on his wild Texan 
 pony, and wooed me with so irresistible a smile to a race 
 across the prairie, that I left the Rev. Geo. A., to try a 
 dash with Bon ; never thinking that I might not find the 
 Admirable Doctor on my return. Alas ! for haman ex- 
 pectations I In my absence Frank came along and, in a 
 blaze of righteous indignation, took the said Doctor to 
 pieces, strewed his membra disjecta to the four winds, and 
 '' left no place where he stood." But as my article deals 
 with a somewhat different phase of the question from 
 Frank's, I have concluded to forward it. You can send 
 it after those disjointed remains, or—to the waste basket. 
 Aug. 26, 1833. Fred. 
 
 REV. GEO. A. WATSON'S REJOINDER. 
 
 Before making some preliminary remarks, I must, in 
 all candor, be permitted to observe, that Fred's produc- 
 tion, published in this day's Rural World, is eminently 
 
132 
 
 uncouth, ungentlemanly and unchristian; and is besides, 
 so void of reason, and at the same time, so contrary to 
 reason, that the unpolished and ungrammatical, perfor- 
 mance might be justly deemed as unworthy of ranking 
 even with the undeveloped maiden effort of the veriest 
 schoolboy of the land. Like a riderless, fiery, impetuous 
 steed, he flies the track from the very start, and as the 
 philosophers aptly style it, he makes fiasco, under the pal- 
 pable error of ignoratio elencM, or a non-knowledge of the 
 points at issue. This, further on, 1 flatter myself I shall 
 be easily enabled to prove to the entire satisfaction of the 
 intelligent readers of the Kural World. I was, indeed, 
 most loth to take up the unmanly and unmannerly docu- 
 ment, reeking as it were, with the crudities of an addled 
 brain, but the necessity of making a few needed observa- 
 tions, and the additional desire of setting the Sunday 
 question in as clear a light as possible, have, in a manner, 
 forced me to pay my respects to Fred's most disingenuous 
 utterances. 
 
 Take the sentence that begins with " Her dazzling sun, 
 etc." In thishe represents the millenium, an abstract idea 
 as " sitting on the zenith." The zenith, I suppose, was 
 not much depressed by the superincumbent abstract mil- 
 lenium. This, for all the world, looks much like confu- 
 sion worse confounded. Take another sentence : " That 
 the practice of keeping open saloons, etc." We have here 
 a jumble of ideas, but no sentence, or sentences properly 
 expressed or connected together. "- That attract with 
 their glitter, etc.," is another wretchedly constructed sen- 
 tence. But I must spare my readers and refrain from 
 making any further remarks on Fred's lumbering style. 
 
133 — 
 
 A brief explanation, and then Fred's case again. 
 
 Without intending to enter into any discussion on the 
 question, I merely state, that it is not intrinsically wrong 
 to sell liquor on Sunday, or on any otljer day, and thereby 
 nobody's social rights are abridged, or violated. Liquor 
 in itself is not essentially wrong, but murder is. The 
 harm to society comes not from liquor's simple use, but 
 from its abuse. The mere use of opium is not wrong, 
 but its excessive increasing use, is reprehensible. I have 
 said nothing that could properly provoke the discussion of 
 the prohibition question, neither do I intend to enter on 
 its discussion. 
 
 As men united in society, we have no right to prevent 
 our fellow-man from doing that, which is not intrinsically 
 wrong. The use of liquor comes under this head. This 
 right may be abused, and then the civil law, where such 
 a law exists, strives to correct its abuses, or totally pro- 
 hibits its use. 
 
 Kow, unchristian Fred, I must take up your case. 
 You attempt to use against me, with telling effect, the 
 two concluding lines of your poetic quotation, as a dilem- 
 ma, but your effort goes uncrowned with success. What 
 is a dilemma ? An argument which presents an antagon- 
 ist with cwo or more alternatives, but is equally conclusive 
 against him, whichever alternative he chooses. Webster. 
 " The friar will sometimes play the fool," 
 
 This is not applicable *to me, as I am not a friar, and 
 never was one. 
 
 " The fool will play the friar." 
 
 My poetical works: The Kural Pastor; Saint Louis, 
 The Future Great : my translation of Saint Casimir's 
 
-134- 
 
 Hymn, from the Latin, and the various pieces tliat I have 
 contributed to Colmak's Rural Wori^d during tlie last 
 six or eiglit months are sufficient proofs thut I do not 
 merit tlie appellation of fool. Your dilemma, to make the 
 most of it, is but a very poor specimen of this logical 
 figure. 
 
 To you, I apply, as eminently suitable, the following 
 dilemma : 
 
 Fred's ignorance of English proceeds either from nat- 
 ural stupidity, or from an improper use of educational 
 facilities, or from a want of educational facilities. I sup- 
 pose you will accept the last alternative as the least humili- 
 ating. The proof that your knowledge of English is ex- 
 tremely defective, plainly appears in your attempted reply 
 to my article on Sunday Laws. Your ignorance of En- 
 glish, I have made sufficiently evident in preceding por- 
 tions of this rejoinder. 
 
 " I sorely suspect." I would advise you to buy a bot- 
 tle of Saint Jacob's Oil, and cure yourself. '' The senti 
 menls " as far as anti-christian inclusive. Perhaps you 
 imagine all that is so, because I differ with you on the 
 question of Sunday Laws. You are too fond of luxuria- 
 ting in assertion, give us. the sentence or sentences that 
 are unworthy of my high calling, and those that are anti- 
 Christian. 
 
 You say '' Civilization knows no retrogrades.^'' Just 
 for once in your life, Ered, take' an intelligent glance at 
 Roman history, and in it you will see the very acme of 
 civilization closely allied with the grossest barbarism- 
 For further information, a rare article with you, consult 
 the President of the St. Louis Humane Society. 
 
-135- 
 
 *•' Muddled; " I guess the fogs of Ham Lake, must 
 have bestraddled some of your ideas, ''Verbose;" not 
 much so. If there is any defect in my definition, or ratlier 
 my selections, it arises not from " verbosity, but from too 
 much. precision. '* Everybody knows what is law." Is 
 that so ? Well ! really, I am mighty glad to hear it. A 
 great deal of what follows is ignoratio elenchi, or a non- 
 knowledge of the points at issue. I have never denied 
 the right of the State to pass all necessary laws, for the 
 w^ell-being of its inhabitants. I have, however, foreshad- 
 owed what a fanatical party, backed by the power of the 
 State, might, if left to itself do in regard to oppressive 
 Sunday Laws. The bare idea of being checked in this 
 regard, is, I suppose, the true source of your rancorous 
 opposition to my views. It is too late, Fred, in the civili- 
 zacion of the world, to attempt with impunity, to weakly 
 crush an adversary with the epithet "anti-Christian." 
 This is an age, Fred, of marked material and intellectual 
 progress ; ranting will not pass for reason, especially when 
 there is question of abridging the liberty of the citizen. 
 
 '' The practice of keeping open saloons," is pretty 
 much all bumkum. It does not necessarily follow, that if 
 the saloons were closed on Sunday, that less money w^ould 
 be spent in the saloons, as where liquor is allowed to be 
 sold during the week, a supply of the desired article could 
 be easily procured on the preceding Saturday. 
 
 But it is Sunday. Very true, Fred, but you and I and 
 the other members of the community, must, as truly loyal 
 citizens, allow the law to take its course. 
 
 Perhaps the poor woman of whom you have so elo- 
 quently spoken, became demented through indulgence in 
 
136 
 
 the opium habit. Perhaps she cared more about fashion 
 and the enjoyment of social pleasures, than she did about 
 the proper training of her children. Perhaps she com- 
 mitted the training of their hearts, their ways and their 
 manners, to the hands of menials. Perhaps she was a 
 true, unflinching votary of fashion, and an obsequious 
 slave to its most exacting requirements, though these 
 might prove a deathblow to home enjoyments. After 
 graphically describing the harrowing death-scenes of a 
 dying Gambrinus, he apostrophizes me in the following 
 style : " Where then shall you stand my clerical friend ? 
 
 Beside my blessed Lord, I trust, whom I have exclu- 
 sively served for more than forty years, in whose service I 
 have striven to follow the dictates of my conscience, un- 
 hampered by the obsolete maxims of rigid Sabbatarians. 
 
 But as one good turn deserves another, where, Ered, 
 wilt thou be on the great accounting day ? Perhaps among 
 those, who have violated the commandment which says: 
 Thou Shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor, 
 Exodux chapter xx v. 16, Thou hast borne false testi- 
 mony against me, and, lyingly or ignorantly, accused me 
 of giving utterance to anti-Christian sentiments, of the 
 guilt of which any honest, fair-minded, truthful man 
 would readily acquit me. Thou hast applied to me op- 
 probrious language, worthy only of an ignoble poltroon, 
 and which in the case of a secular man, would have entailed 
 the necessity of an ample apology, and this refused, a 
 bloody reparation might have been the result. Ko man, 
 but an ingrained coward, would wantonly gQ out of his way 
 to insult a clergyman in good standing in his church or 
 denomination. I put on the livery of heaven, to serve the 
 
137 
 
 devil in ? In 1853 I became a Catholic priest, through no 
 sordid motives. At that time, my father was what was 
 then considered a wealthy man, and from him I might 
 then have received a fortune ; but my priestly hopes and 
 anticipations forbade a return to secular pursuits. Thou 
 dost sorely suspect that I put on the livery of heaven to 
 serve the devil in. Begone ! thou cold-blooded Minneso- 
 tian. The fetters of a slave would be contaminated by 
 contact with thy lying limbs. I am a native Missourian. 
 1 love my country, my State. Their laws, their liberties 
 and their well-being are dear to my heart. But when high 
 handed bigotry strives to make us slaves of the Sunday 
 (Mark ch. ii. v. 27), which ought to be a day of rest and 
 relaxation, alike for the rich and the poor, then, though I 
 am a minister of the Gospel, I shall raise my voice in 
 favor of sweet liberty's priceless boon. 
 
 That ages work great changes in this material world, 
 will not obscurely appear from the following poetic effusion 
 entitled, 
 
 HAM LAKE. 
 
 In ages long since passed, there was a misty Ham Lake 
 
 view, 
 Minn'sota's folly loving sons, the place, so well they knew. 
 But now destruction's stern, relentless voice, has cursed 
 
 the shore, 
 Where once the ships came wafted all along the banks 
 
 of ore. 
 Ask of the raging winds that swept destruction's cave, 
 Through which there passed no costly treasures, and no 
 
 cringing slave, 
 Engulling all that once was grand, in Minnesota's home, 
 
138 
 
 And of their greatness lost, iianglit left, but Ocean's 
 
 fading foam. 
 A warning to the wanton fools who truth defy. 
 And strictest justice to a fellow Christian, base deny. 
 Missouri's classic shore can boldly vaunt, a stancher crew, 
 Who in their present goodness, all their former worth 
 
 renew. 
 
 LETTER FROM FRANK. 
 
 I have twice read the strictures of the Eev. Geo. A. 
 Watson, upon a former article of mine on the Sunday Law 
 question, and I want to say to that gentleman, that the 
 public are not particularly interested in any funny, or ri- 
 diculous, thing that he may say in regard to me, either 
 poetical or otherwise. It matters not whether my head is 
 large or small, that is not the question ; but is the saloon 
 system and the abrogation of Sabbath and sanctuary priv- 
 ileges right ? The gentleman has placed himself in the 
 position of a champion of the saloon system, and that 
 which tends to Sabbath-breaking, notwithstanding we 
 are commanded in the good book to remember the Sabbath 
 day, and keep it holy. I don't wonder at all that he squirms, 
 and insists by his nice, little classifications, that I have 
 misrepresented him. That seems to be the easiest way 
 out of it. He knows full well his position is not tenable, 
 and not calculated to make the community around him 
 better. I am not alone among the readers of the Rural 
 in condemning his article upon the subject ; no, sir, by no 
 means. I showed his first article to a Baptist clergyman, 
 
a gentleman who is financial secretary of one of their in- 
 stitutions of learning, and he thought it was perfectly as- 
 tonishing, and would not at first believe that Mr. Watson 
 was a clergyman, but thought that he merely subscribed 
 himself as such as a burlesque. He speaks of my uncalled 
 for attack upon him. I have done nothing of the kind. 
 I hold no ill feeling toward that gentleman or any other 
 member of the Circle. I merely attacked his position, a 
 thing I had a right to do, as I believe it fraught with mis- 
 chief, and any amount of sneering at me on account of 
 my age or lack of ability will not shield him from being 
 censured by the Christian readers of the Rural, lam 
 willing to concede the gentleman is a man of considerable 
 ability, and I shall never stoop so low as to write, con- 
 cerning the little head or lack of ability of that gentle- 
 man or any other member of the Circle. I was better 
 bred long years ago, and shall not now ignore early train- 
 ing. The gentleman thinks, in order to fairly estimate a 
 writer's remarks and statements, concomitant circuna* 
 stances cannot be ignored. Well, what are they ? Why, 
 the saloons of Missouri are in full blast six days of the 
 week, and consequently we might as well have them sel- 
 ling seven days and be done with it, or, in other words, if 
 a man sins a little, he had better not stop at that, but go 
 on and become a desperado. But what the Christian 
 public would like to know is, why he, as a Christian min- 
 ister does not raise his voice against those saloons running 
 even the six days ? But instead of that, he advocates 
 their running just one more day. He says he is opposed 
 to murder, but then, he is powerless to oppose that which 
 produces it. But then he says it is the abuse of liquor- 
 
140 — - 
 
 selling that brings all these dire results. Well, now all 
 we ask is to do away with the saloons, and that does away 
 with the abuse. The gentleman knows they are the source 
 of a great deal of crime, and why not speak out against 
 them ; but he dodges that by saying, prohibition is not 
 here under discussion ; he don't want to discuss the in- 
 temperate use of liquor, but thinks the moderate use of 
 beer and other liquors cannot be condemned. That is the 
 plea set up by the saloon interest all over the land, that 
 moderate drinking does no one any harm. Point me to a 
 single besotted inebriate in the street, as he reels from 
 lamp-post to lamp-post, and from that to the gutter, but 
 w^hat was once a moderate drinker ; and many of them, 
 too, declared they never would be anything else. It is es- 
 timated by good authority that in this country alone 60,- 
 000 poor inebriates are passing away annually, and from 
 what source are the ranks being recruited? Why from 
 moderate drinkers. What a " morbid " Christianity it is 
 that favors such a ghastly Bight. My friend advises me to 
 consult Webster's Unabridged on " social " and ''reckless." 
 My dear sir, there is no need of doing any such thing in 
 order to learn whether or not your position is reckless. 
 Any position that is so much at variance with all that is 
 holy and good can be well understood without such helps. 
 The way is so plain the '' wayfaring man, though a fool, 
 cannot err therein." Our friend made some very nice dis- 
 tinctions between religious, civil and social rights. He 
 says by explanation, '' were a farmer to invite his friends 
 to an infare and send them home fasting, he would be 
 guilty of violating their social rights, but were he to treat 
 them in right royal style, and such a guest would drown 
 
reason in wine, then such a guest would abuse the social 
 rights of his host." Oh yes, and in the event we enact a 
 law to protect that host, why then according to our friend's 
 position that would be an infraction of the guest's civil 
 liberty. He further says, '• were this guest to go stagger- 
 ing along the streets, then would he violate the civil rights 
 of the citizen," and yet our friend can't see any use in any 
 law to forbid the violation of the rights of a citizen. He 
 seeks to keep separate the religious, social and civil rights 
 of men, and yet go into what community you may, and 
 where the religious rights of the citizen are ignored, but 
 little regard is paid to civil and social rights . The gen- 
 tleman's plea for the parks and fairgrounds being thrown 
 ^peu upon the Sabbath day, intimating there will be ample 
 time for the people to worship and to attend the places 
 also, will not meet with the approval of the christian peo- 
 ple. I believe in God's word,' and cannot believe he meant 
 that we should ever blend worship and amusement upon 
 the day that he hallowed and commanded we should keep 
 holy. He remarks in another place, the gist of my 
 reasoning is this, '' the saloons ought to be closed on Sun- 
 day, and the result w^ould bethesanctificationof Sunday," 
 and then adds, " I deny the correctness of such a conclu- 
 sion, as the numberless facilities afforded for obtaining 
 liquors on Saturday would mainly, if not wholly and in- 
 evitably defeat the end proposed to be accomplished by the 
 Sunday law." My reverend friend is opposed to the Sun- 
 day law, because he thinks the end proposed will be de- 
 feated, wants it abolished, because vicious men will con- 
 spire to render it ineffectual. That position will do away 
 with every law in the statute book. Well, who arie oppos- 
 
ing the Sundaj^ laws in St. Louis, why, every saloonkeeper 
 in the city, and why ? Oh, I presume it is because they 
 are afraid they will sell too much on Saturday. Is it not 
 strange our Sunday law opposers can't get together and 
 agree on some method of attack, and not have so much 
 disagreement ? The same class of fellows oppose prohi- 
 bition, because more liquor will be sold under a prohibi- 
 ting law ; and raise large amounts of money to defeat the 
 enactment of such laws, when according to their reason- 
 ing it enhances their business. Our friend says I garbled 
 his sentences, as though there was a single sentence that 
 would palliate the ridiculous position in which he volun- 
 tary placed himself. He says he has not spoken against 
 all Sunday laws. Oh, no ! he didn't have room, our genial 
 editor won't furnish space for that, but he don't want any 
 law enacted that will unnecessarily abridge or restrain 
 the liberty of the citizen; that is, he don't want any law 
 that will forbid drinking or rioting upon the Sabbath day ; 
 if they must do it six days, why then do so the seventh, 
 notwithstanding the scriptures teach us all such things 
 are of the devil. In a subsequent article he says, '' the 
 fewer Sunday laws we shall have inflicted on us, the better 
 it will be for the rich, the poor, and all other classes of 
 society." Where there is no transgression, there is no 
 law. Law is for the purpose of restraining transgressors. 
 Kone but violators feel its restraining power. My friend 
 advises me to read Cobbett's Eeform, a work written, as 
 he says, by a Protestant. It now begins to dawn 
 upon my mind why my friend has so much to say about 
 " religious fanaticism." He is merely an exponent of the 
 two hundred millions of Catholic Christians that believe 
 
„. .143 — 
 
 in worshiping Almighty God in the forenoon and engage 
 in such '' amusements of a noisy nature as base ball, town 
 ball, and foot ball." ISTow I want to say to my friendright 
 here, that history don't show that you represent a class 
 that have always had the greatest amount of regard for 
 the civil and religious liberties of those that did not 
 agree with them ; and the least you say about it the better., 
 I care not to provoke a discussion with you upon the sub- 
 ject. My forefathers were from beyond the great deep 
 and could tell a tale of woe that smacked very little of 
 liberty. Without any ill feeling toward our reverend friend, 
 and with thanks to Col. Colman for so much space, I now 
 leave the subject and make room for other members of 
 the Circle. Frakk. 
 
 Rest, Kas. 
 
 REV. GEO. A. WATSON'S ANSWER TO FRANK'S 
 LUCUBRATIONS OF OCTOBER 11 TH. 
 
 I must say this much of Frank, that of course, he had 
 an undoubted right to endeavor to answer and to combat 
 viewSc which he might deem injurious to the spiritual and - 
 temporal good of the community, and which, if allowed 
 to go unchallenged, might eventuate in the entailment of 
 untold evils on society ; but in pursuance of this right to 
 apply to me excessively abusive language, simply because 
 I expressed views contrary to his, was what I had a right 
 to regard as totally uncalled for, and wholly at variance 
 with the attributes of a cultured gentleman, and far be- 
 neath the dignity of even an embryo christian. 
 
__1M 
 
 After your article of August the 23d, it is, indeed, 
 most amusing to hear you talk about good breeding, aiid 
 etiquette. In my rejoinder of August the 30th, I am free 
 to confess, that I have in no degree, trenched on the usa- 
 ges by which gentlemen are governed in their intercourse 
 with friends, or strangers. Your remarks, in regard to 
 your good breeding, remind me of an incident related by 
 Cicero. On a certain occasion, so Cicero says, '' many 
 distinguished strangers had come from divers and far dis- 
 tant countries, to witness the Olympic games. A stran- 
 ger, venerable in gait and mien, advanced towards the 
 seats, that had been prepared for the accommodation of 
 the spectators. The young men made signs to him, at 
 the same time opening their ranks, as if willing to ac- 
 commodate him, but when he had approached, they closed 
 their ranks; and so the cruel sport went on, until the 
 I ged man had reached the seats, which had been reserved 
 lor the Lacedemonian Ambassadors, who then arose to a 
 man, ai<d received him in their midst. From the assem- 
 bled multitudes there rose a thunder of applause ; and 
 after it had somewhat subsided, the stranger quite audibly 
 remarked to those immediately near him : ''The Atheni- 
 ans know what is right ; but the Lacedemonians practice 
 it." I do, therefore, Frank, concede your claim to eti- 
 quette, but I am sorry to be compelled to state, that in 
 your answer of August the 23d, you have egregiously failed 
 in its observance. Frank, the next time you put forward 
 your claim to etiquette and your utterance thereon, would 
 it not be ji'st the nice and proper thing for you to sign 
 your name, instead of your nom dej^hime? 
 
 The end that I proposed to myself, in my article of 
 
145 
 
 July 26, was merely and solely a discussion of the legal 
 points in relation to the Sunday law question. It was not 
 my aim to give expression to my individual preferences, 
 but I did endeavor to show into what excesses a dominant, 
 fanacical, religious party might run the laws of the coun- 
 try, if not closely watched and overawed by the sober, 
 better sense of the community at large. In this, I flatter 
 myself, I have succeeded. And in proof that fanaticism 
 ought to be guarded against, I refer the readers of the 
 EuRAL World to Cobbett's ''Eeformation." Taking a 
 legal view of the Sunday law question, I very properly 
 abstained from preaching. It was neither the time nor 
 the fitting occasion for such display, and the legal treat- 
 ment of the question did not demand it. You have not 
 refuted the preliminary truths laid down in my article of 
 July 26, but you have all along clearly ignored the topics 
 under d'scussion and persistently continued to discuss the 
 prohibition question. This naturally leads me to the sup- 
 position that you have read some work on prohibition. 
 You accuse me of dodging, but if any dodging has been 
 done during the course of this discussion, you have done 
 the dodging. Perhaps you have read Dickens' "Artful 
 Dodger." If so, you have proved yourself an apt scholar. 
 LayiQg down the subject on which I proposed to write, 
 I was master of the position, and when you strive to force 
 on me the discussion of the prohibition question, it is on 
 your part, to say the least, a piece of unmitigated imper- 
 tinence. I am not the champion of the saloon system. 
 You cannot give a single sentence by which you can prove 
 your assertion ; but consistent with your usual style of 
 reasoning, you indulge in I eckless assertion, and you un- 
 
146 
 
 dertake to prove or disprove, what I have neither affirmed 
 nor denied. Yerily, Frank, you are but a sorry specimen 
 of a preacher. You have, though an unapproachable 
 knack for jumbling together things totally different and 
 discordant. You give us a hotch-potch, into which you 
 have thrown the Baptist minister, the financial agent, the 
 holy book, and the Christian readers of the Eurai. World. 
 Frank, it would benefit yoa much more to follow the ad- 
 vice of Horace, '' Sutor ne ultra crepidam,^^ in the discuss- 
 ion of the Sunday question. I am confident that the 
 readers of the Eural World do not expect you to turn 
 preacher. You would do well to leave that to abler and 
 better qualified hands. It is all up-hill work with you, and 
 I can easily imagine that the Christian readers of the 
 EuRAL World have not been much benefited by your 
 sapient remarks on spirituality. It ill becomes preachers 
 to become hackneyed politicians, and vica versa ; seculars 
 assuredly cut a sorry figure in the preacher's role. Had you 
 spoken thus,I am more than certain that most of the readers 
 of the EuRAL World would have heartily applauded your 
 wonderful foresight and your nice discrimination in the 
 selection of a suitable subject, on which to address them : 
 " Fellow citizens : I see, as you must also plainly see, that 
 the temper of the times is such that prohibition just now 
 cannot be carried in all the States. Let us bide our time, 
 and until it comes, since w^e cannot get a whole loaf let us, 
 at least, be content with even half a loaf. But why, fel- 
 low citizens, I may ask you, cannot this be done, and why 
 should it not be done ? Look around you, over the length 
 and breadth of our land, and what ominous signs of na- 
 tional decay and destruction harshly greet our eyes on 
 
: — 147 — - 
 
 all sides ? Our astounded gaze encounters on almost all 
 sides grocery stores and bar rooms in immediate proximi- 
 ty, and both under the management of the same individ- 
 ual. Boarding houses and bar rooms under the immediate 
 management of the same individual. Wholesale and 
 retail grocery stores selling intoxicating liquors of almost 
 every description. Why not draw the lines sharply and 
 closely, and if any man is allowed to sell liquors, do not 
 permit him to sell anything else in the same establishment, 
 and why not forbid him then and there to engage in any 
 other business ? Why not impose such fines and penalties 
 that a second violation of the law would be rendered a 
 remote possibility ? Why do not our law-makers do 
 their duty V Because they have an eye to re-election. 
 Why does not the daily press raise its potent voice for an 
 abatement of the liquor evil ? Because it dreads the loss 
 of advertisements. Why do not the politicians, who 
 ought to agitate for the good of the country, speak out 
 plainly and unmistakably against the increasing evil ? 
 Because they have an eye to election or re-election. Why 
 do not the clergy come out against the growing evil ? Be- 
 cause words, unsupported by coercive action w^ould prove 
 of no avail. These, fellow citizens, are my views on this 
 momentous subject and occasion." Amid loud and pro- 
 longed cheering the orator came down from the rostrum. 
 To show up to the readers of the Btjhal World 
 Frank's disingenuous and dishonorable way of reasoning 
 on a legal question, I select the two following sentences : 
 " Oh yes, and in the event we enact a law to protect that 
 host, why then according to our friend's position, that 
 would be an infraction of the guest's civil liberty." And 
 
148 — 
 
 yet our friend can't see any use in a law to forbid the 
 violation of the rights of a citizen. Polite usage forbids 
 the use of the proper epithet, but I do say, it is a down- 
 right falsehood. There is nothing that I have WTitten 
 from July 26th, to the present date, to justify such an un- 
 truthful assertion. He further says, ''Were this guest to 
 go staggering along che street, then w^ould he violate the 
 civil rights of the citizen. I give the same answ^er to this, 
 as in regard to the preceding sentence. I select another 
 sentence : '' My reverend friend is opposed to the Sunday 
 law, and wants it abolished, because vicious men will con- 
 spire to render it ineffectual." This is another untruth- 
 ful sentence. I have nowhere said that I w^as either for 
 or against this particular Sunday law in regard to the 
 closing of saloons. I simply asserted that the law could, 
 to a very great extent, be rendered inoperative. There is 
 no parity betw^een this and other Sunday laws. Hunting 
 game on Sunday is forbidden in this State, Missouri; 
 could anybody defeat this law by doing an extra share of 
 hunting on Saturday, as he could by laying in an extra 
 share of liquor ? This shows the absurdity of your reas- 
 oning. In one of my preceding articles 1 expressed the 
 opinion that little good could be effected by closing the 
 saloons one day out of seven. Frank says this is an en- 
 couragement to commit sin one day more. According to 
 this reasoning, it is a sin to drink liquor on Saturday, 
 and also a sin to drink liquor on Sunday. Towards the 
 beginning of his answer of October 11th, Frank says : 
 '' The point under discussion between us is : 'Is the sa- 
 loon system and the abrogation of Sabbath and sanctuary 
 privileges right ?' " I have nowdiere proposed any such 
 
149 — ■ 
 
 questions for discussion. Our friend says I " garbled his 
 sentences (and I say so still) just as though there was a 
 single sentence that would palliate the ridiculous position 
 in which he voluntary (voluntarily?) placed himself." 
 I have not placed myself in any ridiculous position, and 
 of course, I needed no sentence to palliate my nonposition. 
 For Frank's information I may state, that we attend to 
 religious duties in the morning and afternoon, as faith- 
 fully as our Protestant fellow-citizens. 
 
 As to what you say in your third sentence, just before 
 the end of your October Lucubrations, I have this much 
 to say: If my memory serves me aright, Babbington 
 Macaulay once said, " modern history is a grand conspir- 
 acy against truth." As to Protestants and Catholics, it is 
 safe to say, that both have persecuted more or less. You 
 say, substantially at least, the less said on the Catholic 
 side, the better. I retort in just the same words, the less 
 said on the Protestant side, the better. I*^ow, Frank, as 
 members of the Home Circle, let us pay our respects to 
 the Muses, and sing. 
 
 PROHIBITIOK. 
 
 Frank fired with Prohibition's glow, 
 This subject, scarce can he forego. 
 It does his mind so sorely gag. 
 That all things else to this must drag. 
 It haunts him at the very start, 
 From it, most loth, can he depart. 
 At almost ev'ry sentence' end. 
 We see its raging forces blend. 
 The distant, rumbling thunder's roar, 
 Is heard on Prohibition's shore. 
 
150^ 
 
 Acoustic's study do we love, 
 
 Sweet Prohibition far above. 
 
 IS^ow Frank, do change the acrid theme, 
 
 We all prohibit sour cream. 
 
 And give us aught from bark to inward core, 
 
 We've had enough of Prohibition's lore. 
 
 Eev. Geo. A. Watsok. 
 Postscript.— 1. Frank, I may some day or other send 
 you a description of the game of Town-Ball. I am sure 
 a bout at it would do us both more good than to be moping 
 over an ill-favored rehash of the musty persecutions of 
 by-gone days. 
 
 2. The genial editor of the Eukal W^ould might 
 now most opportunely step in on the Home Circle and say, 
 in regard to persecution : i^one of this, young men, I 
 supremely despise persecution in all its phases, neither 
 shall its expression or impression ever stain the pages of 
 the Rural Wori.d. 
 
-151- 
 
 THE EDITOR'S SANCTUM INVADED, 
 
 A short time ago, I happened in at the Eural's sanc- 
 tum. The Editors were deeply absorbed in their various 
 mental occupations, a peculiar gleam of unmingled satis- 
 faction crept over the intellectual faces of the busy work- 
 ers. You might have almost imagined that it verged on 
 an expression of supreme complacency, and especially was 
 this plainly perceptible, in the unruffled, benign counten- 
 ance of the managing editor. It would, indeed, be a pity 
 to witness a change come over this charming, rarest, home- 
 like scene. Soon so wrapped were the Editors in the folds 
 of their musing, that evidently they were impervious to 
 all outward disturbing influences. They had already put 
 in their fairest licks, and, to all appearances, they were 
 just on the point of adding the finishing strokes to the ar- 
 duous tasks of the day. The managing Editor's face 
 brightened up. His pen flew over the sheets with light- 
 ning speed. It was evident that the brightest ideas of the 
 day were being clothed in permanent form ; but a few 
 more brisk, bright flashes of the human soul divine would 
 have sufficed to bring his labors of the day, to a fitting 
 and a glorious termination. But how vain, sometimes, 
 are our dearest anticipations. In the midst of one of his 
 sublimest periods, the Editor in chief had nearly finished 
 a masterly peroration on the boundless sources of happi- 
 ness in store for the wise, persevering, and intelligent 
 cultivators of the great American Sorghum Plant ; how 
 every wretched hovel of the land might be happily, mar- 
 
152 
 
 velously changed into prince-like mansions, when a 
 
 tlmnclering rap on the door, liarshly grated on the ears of 
 tlie spell-bonnd writers. Young Frank, the Colonel's son, 
 jumped to his feet, so deeply had he been immersed in 
 unraveling the almost endless intricacies in the pedigree of 
 
 a Merino ram, the managing Editor's eyes flashed fury, 
 
 as eyes had never flashed before. The pen had already 
 dropped from his motionless hand ; the ink had bespat- 
 tered a pair of spotless, snow-w^hiie cuffs all this was 
 
 enacted in less time than its description has required. In 
 stentorian tones the Editor in chief exclaimed : Manag- 
 ing Editor ! attend to this man. And his lightning-sped 
 pen continued to fly over the sheets with its wonted magic 
 rapidity. The man somewhat hesitatingly approached. 
 From his general dilapidated appearance, you would have 
 rightly judged him to be a fit representative of the famous 
 Eip Van Winkle. Having safely tucked his coon skin cap 
 under his arm, and after having squirted a bountiful sup- 
 ply of tobacco juice over the brussels carpet, he thus be- 
 gan : " I traveled with you some months since, we stop- 
 ped at my town, you called it Athens, which was a glaring 
 blunder. I have lived in the town just forty-eight years 
 and two days. The correct, genuine pronunciation of my 
 town is J.thens, and youjusttry torememberit. ''Athens, 
 I say I " and quicker than thought, the managing Editor 
 fiercely faced the bold intruder. ' Sir ! ' (his passions by 
 this time had fairly mounted up to white heat), this office 
 sir, I must plainly inform you, sir, is to all intents and 
 purposes, infallible in its ways and dealings. Any man, 
 sir, that dares to correct me in my editorial capacity, does 
 it at his dire peril. Anything, sir, that this office does 
 
-153 - 
 
 not know about sorghum and sheep, butter and bees, cat- 
 tle and chicken, hog and horse, is not worth knowing. 
 
 But two years ago I was on the borders of the Indian 
 ;Nation. Iwas addressing a large crowd. It was, sir, one 
 of my happiest efforts. I was eloquently and impressively 
 telling my hearers that Colman's Eural World did not 
 always talk Sorghum, Sheep or Bee, but what it did say, 
 was to the point, and entirely reliable. 'That's a lie,' 
 came from a man in the crowd, a lean, lank, cadaverous 
 looking individual, whose leanness was so great that it 
 would have made a ramrod blush for very shame. Of 
 course I made for him. Just step over here with me, sir, 
 to that closet, in w^hich I keep my tomahawk and his 
 scalp." ''Excuse me, I'd rather not." Well then, sir! 
 the next time you come to this office, talk business." 
 " That's just what I was trying to come to. Here are 
 twenty dollars for twenty subscribers to Colman's Kural 
 World." "Sit down, my noble friend! Here's your 
 receipt. Call again sir, and the best services of this office 
 are at your command." I slowly and musingly retired. 
 The exciting occurrences of the late impending conflict 
 had made a vivid and lasting impression on my mind. 
 
 Jtjyenis. 
 
 Respecting the above, we have two remarks to make. 
 In the first place, the subscription list brought in was for 
 fifty subscribers ; in the next, when Mr. Juvenis comes 
 into this office again we shall understand that he is here 
 to quiz and to caricature what is said and done, and can 
 count on getting the cold shoulder. As a writer he is bad 
 enough, as a painter he is worse, but, as a faithful recor- 
 
-]54- 
 
 der of history he is abominable and intolerable. Now, 
 sir, just you try it again ! 
 
 JUVENIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Friends— Juvenis, have you read Colmaist's Rurai. 
 Would of June 21st ? 
 
 Juvenis— Has it aught worthy of being transferred to 
 the archives of history, and of assuming an appropriate 
 place among the precious annals of the human race ? Is 
 it calculated to afford either profit or amusement to the 
 coming generations, that are one day destined to act their 
 respective, momentous parts on the kaleidoscopic stage 
 of life ? If such be the nature of the production, refuse 
 me not the exquisite pleasure of perusing such a unique 
 contribution to the literature of this enlightened age. 
 
 Friends— Oh ! Juvenis, but it is so very funny. But 
 just listen : the author's non deplume is Fred. He is in 
 the act of wishing his friends farewell, and instead of 
 doing so in English, in which, goodness knows, he is 
 woefully deficient, he tries to say it in Latin, about which 
 he knows still less. The following are his words : Face 
 voMscum, 
 
 Were the shade of Caesar or of Cicero to catch him 
 wandering along the Elysian fields, spouting his bad Latin 
 to the other ignorant shades, would he not catch a sound 
 drubbing at their hands ? 
 
 First Friend— What shall be the subject of our present 
 entertainment ? 
 
 Second Friend — Let us point out the defects and the 
 inaccuracies of speech and statement indulged in by the 
 
155 
 
 members of the Home Circle, and so while away a pleas- 
 ant hour, in analyzing the vagaries of the human mind. 
 Juvenis, would not this be a capital, fun-enlivening occu- 
 pation ? 
 
 Juvenis— To some minds, this is, indeed, a rare and 
 genuine amusement, a very feast of soul; to my mind, 
 however, it affords, no pleasure. I am always more agree- 
 ably occupied, when employed in descanting on the beau- 
 ties of the human mind ; on the rich sources of delight 
 which lie concealed, as it were, in the happily contrived, 
 and well wrought productions of master minds. To these, 
 I turn with pleasing ecstasy, and among them I serenely 
 pass some of the happiest hours of intellectual life and 
 growth . 
 
 Second Friend— Juvenis, can you possibly imagine, 
 that you find such sources of pleasure in reading the ar- 
 ticles contributed to the Home Circle ? 
 
 Juvenis— Some of the articles are written in a polish- 
 ed style, and in most excellent taste; others are rich in a 
 variety of beautiful sentiments, as that on Burns, by 
 Paulus ; but it bears not the impress of a master's manip- 
 ulating hand. The parts are beautiful, but they lack 
 unity of design and execution. Some articles are too 
 deeply tinged with adulation of the fair sex. One young 
 man exerts his wit, at least we must give him credit for 
 the effort, in boundless praise of a lady's contribution ; 
 while another, with Quixotic frenzy falls down dazed at 
 the mental effulgence of his special inamorata. 
 
 First Friend— In some of the articles it appears to me, 
 that there is a great want of taste, and a marked poverty 
 of thought. It is so much easier to criticize and carp at 
 
156 
 
 what others have written, than to draw forth from one's 
 exhausted, or never replenished, mental resources. 
 
 Second Friend— But did not Eev. Geo. A. Watson 
 catch it at the hands of Frank and Fred ? 
 
 First Friend— In my opinion, it was, at least, a drawn 
 game as to vituperation. 
 
 Juvenis— Such discussions are rarely attended with 
 any good result ; and no gentleman of culture or refined 
 feelings, will willingly engage in them. It is, we may 
 briefly state it, the surest characteristic trait of ignorant 
 and impetuous minds, stored with no reliable or useful 
 information, and which have never been subject to any 
 proper mental training, to fly into a towering passion, to 
 launch forth into vituperative language, and to vainly 
 strive to crush an adversary by voluble, abusive language 
 But this is neither reason, nor reasoning. To resort to it 
 unnecessarily, is an infallible indication of a badly-bal- 
 anced mind, and it further unmistakably betrays the 
 workings of an uncultured mind, which congenially re- 
 vels in ribaldry, through lack of necessary and suitable 
 knowledge. 
 
 First Friend— Juvenis, can we not hit on some plan 
 by which this undesirable state of things may be changed 
 for the better ? 
 
 Second Friend— I like fun, and for the life of me I 
 cannot see what great harm can possibly come from an 
 occasional well-developed and thoroughly matured spat. 
 You know the old proverb : " All work and no play 
 makes Jack a dull boy." 
 
 Juvenis— The best-instructed and calmest persons can 
 rarely, if ever, discuss with even a passable degree of 
 
157 
 
 moderation, matters of vital importance. Annnguarded, 
 harsh, miwelcome word is the father of a still harsher one 
 in the mind of him whose feelings have thus been wound- 
 ed. If this holds good, as it undoubtedly does, in regard 
 to those of mature minds, how much more applicable, is 
 it not, to those whose minds are in a transient, formative 
 state, and whose impulses and passions arenottoo strictly 
 kept under the control of reason. But this is wandering 
 from the main point on which I wished to touch. Could 
 we not make our Home Circle more instructive, and at 
 the same time not less entertaining ? Would not the fol- 
 lowing, or a similar plan, be attended with the happiest 
 results ? To effect this, could not the contributors to the 
 Home Circle forward their names to the Editor, mention- 
 ing the subject on which they might wish to write. These 
 subjects might be either essays, biographies of remarka- 
 ble men or women of our country, some of the virtues or 
 vices that tend to mar the harmony of the Home Circle. 
 I do not consider that I trespass on the reserved rights of 
 the proprietor or Editor, by saying that religion and poli- 
 tics would have to be rigidly excluded from the columns 
 of the Home Circle. This, however, would not prevent 
 the introduction and discussion of rational principles, im- 
 pressed by our common Creator, on every rational soul. 
 Letters and poetry, as a matter of course, would still con- 
 tinue to occupy their time-honored place. Brevity, pi- 
 quancy, polish and condensation, ought to be the watch- 
 words of the contributors. The Editor, of course, would 
 reserve to himself the right of rejecting any topic, the 
 discussion of which he would not wish to take place in 
 the Home Circle's columns. Subjects not adapted to the 
 
-158- 
 
 generality of readers, would be excluded. I shall occa- 
 sionally translate from the French or the Latin, selections 
 that may prove interesting. 
 
 JUVENIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Juvenis— At our last meeting we resolved and we 
 naturally agreed to express ouc views in regard to letter- 
 writing; each one also promised to furnish a sample letter 
 for the instruction and amusement of the Circle. 
 
 Second Friend— Here's my letter, and I trust it has, 
 at least, the merit of being straight and unmistakably to 
 the point: 
 
 Thukderville, Dec. 1, 1884. 
 
 Sol. Soakum, Esq. — Sir : Widow Calliope informs me 
 that your board-bill, amounting to $18.25 remains unpaid. 
 It is a pleasure to me to be able to inform you, that the 
 sooner this is settled, the pleasanter it may be for yourself 
 and the community at large. 
 
 WlKKLE WhACKUM. 
 
 Juvenis— My Friend, your letter is briefly and well 
 written. Its import could not be easily mistaken ; the 
 recipient will find it to his advantage either to mend his 
 ways or change his habitation. It is, strictly speaking, 
 a business letter with just a bit of grim persuasion thrown 
 in. 
 
 First Friend— Gentlemen, the following letter, to the 
 best of my ability, redeems my promise : 
 
 Catnipbtjrg, May 1, 1883. 
 
 Master John Eosey.— My Dear Friend : Your ex- 
 
159 
 
 tremely kind favor of April 11th. came duly to hand. I 
 can sincerely assure you it was read and re-read with in- 
 creased pleasure at each successive perusal. It affords me 
 much pleasure to accede to your gracious request ; but the 
 extremely pretty letter which you have so ably written, 
 might naturally make me shy about communicating in- 
 formation to one, who seems so little to need it ; but since 
 you have so earnestly requested it, 1 could not find it in 
 my heart to refuse to gratify your wishes, couched in such 
 beautifully appropriate language. Allow me then to call 
 your attention to a notable defect. In your letter, I no- 
 ticed several changes and erasures. Had you first written 
 on waste paper and reviewed it a few times, your final 
 copy would not have been marred by a single imperfection. 
 I admired the nice care with w^hich it was written and the 
 evident pains bestowed on its composition. You have 
 well and truly carried out an axiom, thorougly im- 
 pressed on my mind, from early infancy, but my father, 
 long since deceased, and which is to the following effect : 
 If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing well. If a 
 friend or an acquaintance, is deemed unworthy of a care- 
 fully written letter, then, by all means, have the good 
 sense not to write one. A carelessly spoken sentence may 
 be overlooked ; but a slovenly written letter, never. Your 
 Horace pertinently tells you : '' Ve7-ba volant, scripta -tim-^ 
 nenV (Words fly, writings remain.) If you possess t\xd^f 
 talent, write a letter suitable to the capacity of the person 
 for whom it may be intended. Carefully avoid every de- 
 scription of personal exaggeration, and do not make offers 
 of services which you never intend to perform. I was 
 much pleased with your punctuality. As a last request, 
 
160 
 
 do not spare your waste paper. 
 
 Your affectionate friend, 
 
 Caveat Sckiptor. 
 
 Juvenis — My Frind, I submit the following : 
 
 LiLLYViLLE, Dec. 24. 
 
 My Dear Niece : Your kind favor of the 11th ultimo 
 afforded me unmingled delight at the marked and the well- 
 poised development of your mental faculties. How cun- 
 ningly and deftly you approached the subject of laying on 
 me the burden of a didactic response. Your charming 
 missive is such a dainty little bit of epistolary perfection 
 that your request created in my mind the lurking suspic- 
 ion that you sought for information for the express and 
 the sole purpose of being enabled to give free scope to 
 your critical attainments. But no, it cannot be so. The 
 intrinsic stamp of truth which adorns your letter, effaced 
 such an impression as soon as received. You ask for my 
 views on epistolary correspondence. It is extremely diffii- 
 cult to give suitable directions on this subject, as minds 
 are so diff'erently constituted that what may prove bene- 
 ficial in one case may in another be attended with injuri- 
 ous results. I deem it superfluous to state, that tedious 
 and uninteresting details ought to be studiously avoided, 
 A letter to a particular friend may abound in the brightest 
 and most sparkling thoughts naturally at the command of 
 the writer. If the letter is of a formal nature, brevity 
 ought to be its distinguishing characteristic. I need not 
 tell you that a rough draft of a letter is one of the easiest 
 methods to enable you to write a letter pleasing to your- 
 self, and agreeable to the receiver. This will afford you 
 ample opportunity to add or retrench words, and to so 
 
161 
 
 change sentences, that your meaning may come out clear, 
 distinct and forcible. Were this practice more generally 
 observed, we would hear no more of the irksomeness of 
 letter writing. A letter ought to be written in a free and 
 easy style, without any appearance of studied effort. A 
 letter of a literary nature may be written with a degree of 
 polish that would be very much out of place on ordinary 
 occasions. Of course, you may sometimes be so sharply 
 thrown back on your own resources, that you may find it 
 quite embarrassing to grant or to withold the desired mis- 
 sive. In writing a letter of recommendation, which you 
 would rather decline, you might, at least, lay great stress 
 on some good quality possessed by the person so applying. 
 Finally, be careful how you give expression to any rumor, 
 suspicion or judgment, that may be unfavorable to man, 
 woman or child. 
 
 Your Uncle, Juyenis. 
 
 Miss Cozy Demure. 
 
 A question asked by Idyl some time since, is thus an- 
 swered : Kemark 1. Names of objects personified, are of 
 course regarded as proper nouns ; as, *' And Truth severe 
 by fairy Fiction dressed." — Butler'^s Grammar, (1874), p. 
 278. 
 
 Idyl's poem, ''Haunted," is magnificent. It marches 
 on majestically from the very beginning to the very end. 
 The rhythm is irreproachable. As a poetic composition, I 
 consider it far superior to anything she has ever written. 
 
 May Myrtle's beautiful poem, "A Dream," goes straight 
 to the heart of any one, who was ever surrounded by 
 charming home influence. Juvenis. 
 
JUVENIS AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Friends — Why has sorrow once more made good his 
 claim, and why is Juvenis not himself as usual ? 
 Perhaps affliction's ruthless hand has dealt a telling blow. 
 And harshly driven fortune's friend to sorrow's drear abode. 
 
 Juvenis— My friends, you have not judged amiss. 
 Just look at these documents : 
 
 First Friend— I am delighted with the bright prospect 
 that opens to your view. How glorious, and, at the same 
 time, how pleasing to communicate the knowledge and ex- 
 perience gleaned from a varied intercourse with the keenest 
 intellects of the living and the dead. Could you not 
 truthfully say, that Observer has proved himself far in- 
 ferior, as well in style as in thought to Bon Ami ? Besides, 
 has not Observer indulged in surmises that would have 
 marred the harmony of any home circle ? A man of in- 
 ferior talent and culture always appears to disadvantage 
 in a conflict with a man of superior attainments ; and es- 
 pecially is this the case, when the rudeness of his speech 
 and the acerbity of his manner do but too clearly indicate, 
 that he has unfortunately lost sight of the amenities that 
 should characterize social intercourse, whether in writing 
 or actual contact. . 
 
 Frank called Observor to account, but in such a man- 
 ner that Frank might have justly exclaimed in the words 
 of Pyrrhus : '' One more such victory, and I am undone." 
 A writer ought to be able to combat adverse opinion or 
 statement, without betraying loss of temper or urbanity. 
 
 Second Friend— Little of what has just been said 
 chimes in with my views. My motto is : Meet force, with 
 force. If any man strikes me in body or mind, I am dis- 
 
163 
 
 posed to strike back with capital, and interest into the 
 bargain. I allow no man to apply harsh epithets to me 
 with impunity, 
 
 Juvenis — My friends, as far as we are able, let us ever 
 be guided by the dictates of cool, calculating reason. Of 
 course on occasions, I would not hesitate to follow Frank- 
 lin's advice : When you are the anvil, bear patiently ; 
 but w^hen you are the hammer, strike hard. 
 
 But now, I must slacken my pace, and proceed with 
 more circumspection, and act with greater caution. What 
 can I say about Idyl ? 
 
 First Friend— Why say, that what she writes is gen- 
 erally most entertaining, and that she has a most pleasing 
 knack of passing naturally from one topic to another. 
 If a slight fault should occur, yoa may pretend not to 
 notice it. 
 
 Juvenis— Thanks for your just remarks and judicious 
 counsel. Bon Ami has sharply criticised Paulus' poetic 
 effusion. Paulus' answer was weak in the extreme. A 
 man may wTite what he pleases, and as he pleases ; but 
 this does not shield w^hat he has written, and as he has 
 chosen to write it, from the critic's pain-dealing darts. 
 Moreover, it ill becomes a waiter to display temper in re- 
 gard to his own composition. If it is worthy of praise, 
 praise will come in due season ; if otherwise, the less said 
 about it the best. 
 
 Second Friend— Juvenis, would you graciously deign 
 to favor us with one of your own poetic effusions ? 
 
 Juvenis— With pleasure, my friends. A few months 
 since, I was in one of the Bellefontaine cars. IS'ot far 
 from Christy Avenue, I saw a worn-out citizen of the 
 
164 
 
 African persuasion, superintending the loading of a 
 rickety wagon, with tlieodds and the ends of that romantic 
 locality. If not too strong a figure, you might be tempted 
 to say, that the horse resembled a bony, cadaverous shad- 
 ow% and you might almost imagine, that he was barely 
 able to drag approaching dissolution to the bone yard. I 
 composed it on the spur of the moment : 
 
 An ancient horse. The driver drove, 
 
 A future course, The horse he strove, 
 
 Keluctant went. The horse dead fell. 
 
 His forces spent. Terrific yell. 
 
 Like an antiquated egg, the horse exploded and liter- 
 ally fell to pieces. The crowd yelled, some one cried, fire ! 
 the patrol wagon came dashing by like lightning, the sal- 
 vage corps was quickly on the ground, the crowds rushed 
 from all directions to the scene of action. Christy Aven- 
 ue was convulsed to its very centre and the fire depart- 
 ment drenched the flaming fragments and the surging 
 masses. 
 
 For the present, I shall draw^ my remarks to a close, 
 with a more pleasing piece : 
 
 THE LOYERS' QUAKREL. 
 
 L. Sweet James ! thy strangely vacant look, 
 
 In thee dame nature all mistook. 
 The beauty of thy eyes and make — 
 'Twere raving folly's grave mistake. 
 Thy voice is clear, like raven's croak, 
 Or muffled oars, in sombre stroke. 
 Thy w^alk possesses all the grace, 
 Of limping fnadman in the race. 
 
165 
 
 G. In thee, kind nature naught mistook, 
 
 Grace flows from beauty's every look. 
 Th' attraction of thy matchless form, 
 Might well provoke the jealous storm, 
 Sonorous is thy voice's ring, 
 Thy use of it, so void of sting. 
 Exhausted nature now may rest, 
 Half thy perfections, scarce confessed. 
 
 Both. Let anger's fitful, causeless rage, 
 Forgiveness write, on lover's page. 
 Thus ever happy shall we be, 
 And blissful days from God foresee. 
 
 L. Kow gently cease, seraphic friend. 
 
 My ears from jargon's notes defend. 
 
 JXJVEI^IS. 
 
 •^ 
 
INTRODUCTION, 
 
 Fanny Frost in Cowman's Eural World, has pres- 
 ented herself in a gossipy way, as a young lady in search 
 of a husband. She writes Prose remarkably well, and 
 consequently, has said many pleasant things in my regard. 
 I have treated her accorrding to the requirements of the 
 character, in which she has chosen to appear, and have 
 diagnosed her case to suifc. 
 
 Towards the end, matters assume a lively appearance, 
 unmistakable traces of temper become visible, doubtless 
 to the no small amusement of the readers. 
 
TO FANNY FROST. 
 
 We pensive passed along Sedalia's verge, 
 From it, we saw a lady quick emerge. 
 In action, gesture, and the meekesc mien, 
 She was the acme of perfection seen. 
 ' ' My friend, couldst tell who might that lady be ?" 
 '•'■ The teasing Fanny Frost, you plainly see. 
 Take my advice, we'll quickly pass her by, 
 Sedalia's maidens all, she'd 'nice ' defy. 
 But yesterday, to Grandma slyly said : 
 ' Of Future Great, the crowning shame hast read?' 
 Why no, my dear, what may the matter be ? 
 Can aught down there from swiftest justice flee ? 
 In sick men's house (6) a man unbaried lies. 
 ilis speedy burial who so bold denies ? 
 Most brief details just now have slowly read. 
 The sturdy man, they say, not yet is dead. 
 . S. Dame Kumor told this most veracious tale, 
 Her truthful voice, we ever, joyous hail. 
 
 (b) City Hospital. 
 
 TO FANNY FROST. 
 
 A maid her mind so oft can change, 
 
 A man of sense, ' t would ' most derange, 
 
 To-day, she's overflowing kind, 
 
170 
 
 To-moiTOW, she's of different mind. 
 She archly says : Yon horrid thing, 
 With voice's most sonorous ring. 
 Had you displeased her very much, 
 Hurled might have been, the grandma's crutch ; 
 But, if perchance, she hates you so, (a) 
 All counter doubts, secure forego. 
 Her mind, in words, she rarely means, 
 It lives so much, in both extremes. (6) 
 A poem may you ably write, 
 In il, she may supreme delight, 
 But — horrid all, she'll surely say, 
 And thus lier keenest wit display. 
 She dearly loves to daily tease, 
 It gives her mind the greatest ease. 
 Such pleasure, then, do not refuse, 
 Since much her mind it does amuse. 
 (a) Just the contrary. (6) In reference to costly bon- 
 nets and shoes. 
 
 AN ACROSTIC, ETC. 
 
 Fast moved the wheels of sparkling thought, 
 And faster still with beauty fraught, 
 J^^at's (a) burning words, her favor sought. 
 Kay stop, my ardent friend she cried, 
 Your suit, just now, must go denied. 
 
 Far down the stream of time, I see 
 Bough winding shoals ahead of me ; 
 
— m — 
 
 Once more to sorrow's goal they lead, 
 Stop now, your cause no longer plead. 
 Till grief, its flight from me, doth speed. 
 
 Demure she was, in thought and word, 
 When fairly hit— 'tw^ere so absurd ! 
 Unwounded still, she sly maintained; 
 Conviction's fact, from speech restrained. 
 Convince a maid against her will, 
 With aspic's sting, your soul may kill. 
 Entrapped with logic's trenchant lore, 
 Envenomed, hurls her anger more. 
 Praise mental treasures, and their kind, 
 IS^aught else so sweet to female mind. 
 
 You blandly asked me, what I meant, 
 And anoient lyre's true intent. 
 The readers of the Ciicle Grand, 
 Will quick your mighty wit expand, 
 And wond'ring much, they'll merely ask : 
 Who did the ancient lyre unmask f 
 
 From regions far, this earth above, 
 Such news came down in fairy's glove. 
 
 TO FANNY FROST. 
 
 Along the roughest shores of time, a lady cautious crept, 
 Perfection's ways, her joyous, guileless soul, secure 
 
 they kept. 
 Her ever restless, active mind, employment anxious 
 
 sought. 
 
172 
 
 And into wildest fancy's scenes, her hopes fantastic 
 
 wrought. 
 Anon, with sudden start, she'd break the tenor of her 
 
 way, 
 Abrupt essay delight in constant change's grand dis- 
 play. 
 Far stretched th' uneven rocky shore, beyond the far- 
 thest ken. 
 Yet further still, her thoughts beyond the reach of 
 
 favored pen. 
 Before her vision keen, majestic speeds a surging crowd. 
 Intent on glory's brightest theme, and treasure's worth 
 
 so proud. 
 Perplexed, could she the problem solve ; its covert 
 
 meaning all ? 
 Th' impending, racking woes, deceitful joys, that 
 
 might befall. 
 The scene is charged : now swift she floats amid the 
 
 shifting throng. 
 Swept by a mighty force, resistless hurling all along. 
 The land marks once so well defined, obscured, are 
 
 total lost ; 
 The marching hosts advance, recede, with wildest fury 
 
 tost. 
 Portrayed you have the busy, passing scenes of human 
 
 life, 
 With all the telling force of passion, and its endless 
 
 strife. 
 Alone, unscathed, you could not bear the fury of the 
 
 blast : 
 To try, were rankest folly, and a want of wise forecast. 1 
 
173 — 
 
 The mother of the opening year, would fain her power 
 show, 
 
 On you, her favored one, uncourted blessings free be- 
 stow. 
 
 Perchance 'tis then you '11 change, and Fanny Frost 
 just cease to be, 
 
 And join the nuptial crowd, which we so merry often 
 see. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1. The roughest shores, etc. The context does not completely 
 define the nature of the shores, though before the end of the 
 piece, we perceive that the matrimonial shores are meant. 
 
 2. Spring. 
 
 3 Leap Year. 
 
 REV. GEO. A. WATSON; 
 
 Upon his mighty throne a doughty lordling sat, 
 And hurled upon the world his verses, very flat, 
 And scanning long the earth, he flung his voice on high, 
 Crying— I wot, I ween there are none so great as I. (a) 
 
 Way down, down, down, so far below his feet, 
 He spied a little girl with flying footsteps fleet. 
 Then he laughed, a wild haiha! that sounded like acurse. 
 And said '' I'll flnish her, I'll pelt her with poor verse." 
 Her unprotected head felt the weight of something hard, 
 (The girl but little knew of heiavy weighted bard)— 
 And on the darksome earth, she sank her down in dread 
 And sadly sighed apace, I would that I were dead. (6) 
 Yet the mighty poet man no pity on her took, 
 But hit her oft again with poems— like dull book, 
 
174 
 
 So heavy, stale, and flat, in Homeric verse< 
 Descending with dnll thud, like Mephistolic curse, (c) 
 The girl she wildly wept with many a woeful wail, 
 Thy verses are so bad, and yet they do not fail, 
 To hit me fast, and fill my heart with weary pain, 
 I fancy thou art touched with softening of the brain. 
 
 Fanny Frost, 
 foot notes. 
 
 (a) I don't know what '• J ween'," " 1 wot" means, just put the 
 words in forrythm. 
 
 (6) Isn't " darksome " pretty good for an amateur ? 
 
 (c) 1 think " Homeric," and " Mephistolic " are just too splendid 
 for anything. 
 
 There is a drill like sameness in the harmony of the ahove 
 piece, as in eighteen out of the twenty lines, the capital pause 
 regularly falls on the sixth syllable. 
 
 FANNY FROST. 
 
 Well may you first improve your faulty style, 
 Then better measured verses true compile. 
 Your fourth is Alexandrine with a tail, (a) 
 Trochaic weeps,— 'tis flatter than a quail. 
 The fifth homeric is too full of rhyme. 
 It clumsy fell, so could not come to time, (b) 
 Your seventh caudalled (c) too. Iambic not, 
 But this, perhaps, unknowing, you forgot. 
 Your ninth is caudalled too ;— let this so pass : 
 Your errors would I not, so harsh amass. 
 Famed Homer had a nice poetic ear. 
 Him would your faulty verse have caused to fear. 
 Last caudalled thirteenth comes ti> fill the row, 
 From last, so naughty robbed a tail, you know. 
 The last, for want of brains, you shortened sore, 
 
175 
 
 Five feet, one-half, a fault just that, no more. 
 
 (a) Ono syllable over. 
 
 (b) One foot too short. 
 
 (c) A verb, from the adjective caudal. Tailed or furnished 
 with a tail. 
 
 :N^. B.— See GoLMAK's Eural World, January 2d. 
 
 A NODE TO ENEMIES, 
 
 BY FANNY FROST. 
 
 Who are you ? Where do you hide ? 
 
 What have I done to you, pray ? 
 Do you go through the grass with a squirm and a slide. 
 
 And bite if I happen that way ? 
 
 Are you venomous quite as a snake ? 
 
 Or fatal like dogs that are mad ? 
 Which IS the way you intend to take, 
 
 Are you label'd " very bad ? " 
 
 I should like to find where you stay. 
 
 And whether you rattle or hiss ? 
 Come out in the light of the day 
 
 Without an Iscariotkiss. 
 Just please stand here in a row 
 
 I'll count you— perhaps— if I can. 
 Why cowardly strike a blow 
 
 In darkness, at woman or man ? 
 I scorn where another might hate, 
 
 And give you a smile for each blow, 
 Defying you— laugh at a fate 
 
 Which might crush a weaker heart low. 
 
Are you just as cruel as death, 
 
 With hearts full of malice and sin, 
 Does poison exhale from your breath ? 
 
 While your tongues wag such chattering din? 
 I shall strive for the path leading up 
 
 And leave you the one going down ; 
 So drink of the rue in your cup 
 
 And practice your ugliest frown. 
 
 And I shall jog on just the same, 
 
 'Nov mind what my enemies say, 
 For while you thus foot-ball my name, 
 
 We're nearing the judgment day. 
 
 HATE; 
 
 Uncover a lurking serpents' den, 
 A venomus hiss you'll hear, and then. 
 Perchance you'll see the reptiles' hate. 
 In writhing form, and head elate. 
 Such cruel sight, .who'd wish to see ? 
 From objects such, we'd willing flee. 
 And were a pitiless human soul, 
 To pass so far beyond control. 
 To imitate the serpents' wrath. 
 We'd warily shun such person's path. 
 No man offense may wanton give ; 
 No woman the same, and peaceful live. 
 We have our dearest, cherished rights ; 
 A petty mind ; its petty spites. 
 These serpent like, it may retain, 
 Its venomed soul, for ever stain. 
 
177 
 
 Bestrain unguarded hatred's tongue, 
 Then range yourself, the good among. 
 Indulge your passion's angry vent, 
 A pass on fierce, of like extent, 
 May harshly meet its passion twin, 
 Then passions' hates, anew begin. 
 Respect we must, another's rights, 
 Thus lay aside, ignoble spites. 
 See Colman's Rurai. World, May 1st. 
 
 AN EXODE. 
 
 A writer of th^e Honqe Circle !n Colnqaq's Rural World wrote a Node 
 to h[er eqenqies of the same Circle. Sl^e graciously allows 
 therY\ to take a downward course, wh^ilst she asceqds on 
 high[. Th[is piece is to that a response. 
 
 A lordly soul, by anger fierce impelled, 
 
 Against correction mete, it sore rebelled. 
 
 A gibing, caustic critic, would it be. 
 
 Dim microscopic faults, could easy see. 
 
 Its glaring imperfections, near at home, 
 
 Might uncorrected, freely onward roam. 
 
 Learn slower condemnation to impart. 
 
 Yourself as rule, from which to ever start. 
 
 Yourself, do not so wondrous strange delude. 
 
 Nor think your works, perfections all include. 
 
 Correccive shaft, has forceful struck a tender part. 
 
 Poetic lore cannot relieve the aching smart. 
 
 Thy foes consign, to hell's eternal lot? 
 
 But for thyself secure a cooler spot. 
 
 To deepest hell wouldst send, with withering curse? 
 
178 
 
 To heav'n wouldst go, thy soul in vengeance nurse? 
 
 Let not such angry passions sudden rise, 
 
 Yain pride correction all supreme defies. 
 
 Its source, like senseless tiger's wrath unseen, 
 
 Indiff'rent fawns, or rends, its fits between. 
 
 Our faults to mend, we stubborn may ref ase. 
 
 This folly's stigma plain, can naught excuse. 
 
 A man in wisdom's ways most aptly trained. 
 
 By wisdom's force, his errors are restrained. 
 
 A fool conceits mistakes for wisdom's flow, 
 
 To rankest follies' slough, prefers to go. 
 
 Like fogs that rise, to risen fogs unite, 
 
 In deepest clouds, his mind immerses quite. 
 
 Kind nature's clouds their treasures free dispense. 
 
 His coalesce, in follies grand, immense. 
 
 They baneful, concentrated poisons give, 
 
 In which no wisdom's rays can ever live. 
 
 The wisest man, his errors can perceive, 
 
 A fool has none, that faults he can believe. 
 
 Eey. GEO. A. WATSOK. 
 ^Exode. (Gr. Drama) The concluding part of 
 a play, the catastrophe. See Eural World, 
 May 1. Passim. 
 
 POETRY VS. BUTTER. 
 
 BY FANNY FROST, 
 
 Quite oft' in the years which have passed away, 
 With the glories that spring discloses ; 
 
 I've written full many a lyrical lay, 
 Of birds, and music, and roses. 
 
And sometimes have dreamed that the lips of fame 
 
 Did condescendingly kiss me ; 
 But found that my verses were rather lame, 
 
 And the kisses did somehow miss me. 
 
 And so, in a moment of much distress. 
 With thoughts '' too utterly utter," 
 
 I found that if fame I'd woo, I must 
 Just turn my attention to butter. 
 
 And now, as the sweet golden rolls I pat. 
 The ladies say, '' none could be finer ;" 
 
 I find a dear inspiration, that 
 Is softer and, I think, diviner. 
 
 If the Eev. G. A. W. would 
 
 But turn his attention to farming. 
 He might with less trouble b,e understood, 
 
 His symptoms far less alarming. 
 
 For when to the silent land I pass. 
 
 And obituates o'er me mutter. 
 They'll say " Her verses were poor, alas I 
 
 Yet, oh, she made excellent butter." 
 
 And so of this preacher it must be said. 
 
 His verses are far from charming ; 
 Yet, like fragrant incense, when he was dead, 
 
 They'd write—" He excelled in farming." 
 
 POETRY AND BUTTER, VENTILATED. 
 
 The Poets and Butter so badly were mixed ; 
 The Lady, the Fanny so Frost— ed this fixed. 
 The Poets, the Preacher, the Butter and Frost, 
 
180 
 
 In utter confusion, how strangely they're tossed ! 
 Of flowers thou'st written ; of roses, how strange I 
 Of mnsic ; the forest-bird's shady far range. 
 Now happy to rural, to homely sweet scenes, 
 Attention and wishes, thou turnest, safe means, 
 Of glory's exalted, untrammelled, fair queens. 
 To Ceres, the Goddess agrestic, wouldst lead. 
 The aged, the vet 'ran, the farmer, indeed ! 
 Long before thou hadst uttered thy primal, sad wail; 
 Thy body, its senses, obscurity's veil. 
 Amused was I then, with nature's fair mien. 
 And sporting with hazel, its blossoms so green. 
 Laborious, slow turning the richest clay mold, 
 Producing the walnut, its beauty untold. 
 When polished, the nicest dear cradle, indeed I 
 When holding the Fanny, the Frost, all agreed, 
 Nay frisky, my sister^ ; cold Fanny and Frost, 
 To justice esthetic, how hopeless art lost ! 
 Thy verses, how slowly, how weakly they limp : 
 The printer, he clogged them, the fanciful imp. 
 The anvil, the hammer, the hatchet and drill 2= ; 
 All sounding in dulness ; from writer's tame quilL 
 Kow gives us the butter, so yellow and sweet, 
 Of acids devoid, and thy mind of conceit. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1, Tn prose, Fanny Frost called me Brother Watson ; of course 
 etiquette demanded a proper response, and I called her : Sister 
 Frost. 
 
 Nay, my frisky Sister, cold Fanny Frost, is the prose equivalent 
 of the poetic line. 
 
 2. In allusion to some of Fanny Frost's sledge hammer aucl 
 drill remarks. 
 
-181- 
 
 FANNY FROST AND THE DIAMONDS. 
 
 Fair Frisky Fanny Frost, 
 
 Dull Dings did thus accost : 
 
 Cross, fussy, Father Dings, 
 
 Wliat coming evil brings 
 
 Thee, to this Mansion House ? 
 
 We have no rat, no mouse. 
 
 Of brooms we have no need, 
 
 And none of garden seed. 
 
 Why then shouldst thou €ome here ? 
 
 Kaught else could we so fear. 
 
 Perhaps old Father Dings, 
 
 Thou'st brought us gold, or rings ? 
 
 How nice does Lady fair, 
 
 Enjoy my weary care* 
 
 I bring a royal lace. 
 
 For Ladies' noblest race. 
 
 The Ladies here are queens, 
 
 Nice gent their dash esteems. 
 
 The nicest gems they claim, • 
 
 Their worth, I truly name. 
 
 Two dazzling diamonds rare, 
 
 But just one single pair. 
 
 Old Ocean's surging wave^ 
 
 Must wait the like to lave. 
 
 The Sun surpass they far, 
 
 His rays their beauty mar, 
 
 A thousand dollars clear, 
 
 But half their price appear. 
 
182 . 
 
 Good fifteen hundred strongs 
 
 Came Farmer Jones along. 
 
 To Fanny Frost I go : 
 
 To her their beauty show. 
 
 Indeed ! they are so cheap, 
 
 Your fields may double reap. 
 
 You'll have them for a song ; 
 
 To you, shall they belong ? 
 
 My thanks ; You understand 
 
 Fair beauty's just demand. 
 
 And thus the money goes, 
 
 For such seductive shows. 
 
 Did here the evil stop. 
 
 We might a fortune prop. 
 
 This barely is a tithe. 
 
 For those whom fashions writhe. 
 
 Remorseless fashion's laws, 
 
 Allow no time to pause. 
 
 But now the end is reached, 
 
 And folly's ways impeached. 
 
 The victims of deceit. 
 
 Are met with scorn complete. 
 
 Keep then, a dime for rainy day. 
 
 Avoid the scornful word's display. 
 
LLOYD GUYOTS FAULTY LOGIC. 
 
 Lloyd Guyot is apparently becoming enamored of logic ; 
 but his utterances are occasionally somewhat incoherent, 
 inexact in statement, and illogical in conclusion. He says 
 that I referred Fred to the various poems which I had 
 WTitten, and which I transferred to the Home Circle. I 
 never made any such statement. I called his attention to 
 the Eural Pastor ; Saint Louis, the Future Great ; Saint 
 Casimir's Hymn, from the Latin ; finally ,. I alluded to the 
 Rural World during the last six or eight months. ISTo 
 person, possessed of a fair English education, could possi- 
 bly conclude, that the numerous pieces contributed to Col- 
 MAK's Rural World were affirmed to have been taken 
 from the above-mentioned poems. It is illogical to con- 
 clude, that because the preceding poems are sufficent, in 
 my estimation, to free me from the imputation of being a 
 fool, that, therefore, Fred, or anybody else, could free 
 himself from a charge of a similar nature, by simply writ- 
 ing a poem, either long or short. The folly and the falsity 
 of such a conclusion, is but too evident to any moderately 
 well-informed person. Fred, or anybody else, might write 
 a long or a short poem, with this end in view^ and still not 
 succeed in freeing himself from the duncical imputation. 
 Two members of the Home Circle have read the poems in 
 question; and I know they regard them as ample proof, 
 that the epithet of a fool is not applicable to me. By the 
 train of reasoning which I then adopted, I was enabled to 
 
-184 
 
 prove the inconclusiveness of Fred's dilemma. Any one 
 imbued with the merest spattering of logic, well under- 
 stands the telling force of a correct dilemma, and also 
 with what crushing effect it recoils on him who fails in its 
 use. Some of the foregoing ideas I embody in verse, for 
 your especial logical delectation. 
 
 TO I.I.OYD GTJYOT. 
 
 The lamb-like, frisky Lloyd Guyot. 
 So long his logic has forgot. 
 A sequence now, you need not mind, 
 Like husk, the grain within confined. 
 Conclusions sound, ho premise need. 
 Let sound, instead of sense, proceed. 
 But how, you ask, can this be so. 
 And why should I my sense forego ? 
 Lloyd Guyot, doctor most sublime, 
 Can tell you this, in prose or rhyme. 
 Lloyd Guyot scorns logicians' ways. 
 Their silent, creeping, slow delays. 
 Would you the Watson's verse surpass. 
 Much glory to yourself amass ? 
 Why then a great deal dashing write. 
 The less the sense, the more deUght. 
 Press closer now, the tightened hand 
 And see our present needs' demand. 
 The premise should conclusion hold, 
 And naught, but what before was told, 
 Lloyd Guyot's plan, it differs some ; 
 From premise false, conclusions run. 
 This simplifies the weary task, 
 What more, in justice, could we ask V 
 
 (a) Among the ancients the closed hand was emhlematic of 
 logic; the open hand, of oratory. 
 
185 
 
 DEDICATED APPRECIATIVELY TO LLOYD 
 GUYOT. 
 
 You think I do not understand a joke ; 
 What fun adheres to malice and its cloak. 
 Your words in polished course, they easy run, 
 They slyly sting, and this you say, is fun. 
 Keep cool, my friend, a hearty joke I love, 
 Sweet adulation's voice, so far above. 
 I wonder much, why you so serious take, 
 What most accomplished wag, would merry make. 
 You ably joked in cultured, grandest style, 
 A joke of equal worth, I would compile. 
 Why then so slow, to catch another's wit, 
 Since yours so well, it surely seemed to fit. 
 When next a friend or foe, you tickle hard, 
 Think not he can, from fun, be just debarred. 
 
 LLOYD GUYOT, THE BORES' EXTERMINATOR. 
 
 To Lloyd Guyot, sincerest thanks ; 
 Him may you spy in wisdom's ranks. 
 Praise is narcotic very strong. 
 To few can it most true belong. 
 To me surprise it was, so very great, 
 To hear you marvels such relate. 
 A patent quick, should you obtain, 
 And patent's use, most sage restrain. 
 A druggist here, has paste so fine (a) 
 'Twould Circle's Poems all confine. 
 Your plan, the wonder of this age, 
 Our Circle's worth, it doth presage. 
 
To you, 1 give its glory's thought, 
 
 With splendor of your mind, 'tis fraught. 
 
 Exterminator of the bores. 
 
 Whose craft, on them, defeat it pours, 
 
 May now his soul to fame resign. 
 
 And let the bores in anguish pine. 
 
 (a] Kecipe for paste : Gum Tragacantli 1 pt. or X pt. Water, 
 9pts., or 2>^pts. 
 
 L1.0YD GUYOT : Your plan for the extermination of 
 the bores, has been most admirably conceived, and its de- 
 tails have been delineated with the rarest skill of a master 
 mind. No such idea could have passed through the dura 
 mater of an orlinary Genius. 
 
 As an improvement, I would suggest the frequent use 
 of your poetry. Few bores would detect the sly trick, as 
 it is impossible to forget, where there is nothing to remem- 
 ber. 
 
 See EuRAL World, March 20, 
 
 DEDICATED WITH INCREASING AFFECTION TO 
 REV. GEO, A. WATSON. 
 
 If what you wrote deserve the name of wit, 
 Or wit deserve the sense you give to it, 
 Then must I say, in great respect, to you, 
 'Tis only once you've told us something new ! 
 Great credit take for causing Wit's disgrace. 
 By dashing logic in its pungent face ! 
 A joke's a joke, and logic, logic too ; 
 Kor will the one e'er for the other do. 
 Confused man ! I judge ere long you'll try 
 
187 
 
 Convincing us tliat laugliter's but a sigh ! 
 
 Or, failing that, a harder tasl^ begin 
 
 By urging tliat your wit provok'd a grin ! 
 
 Lloyd Guyot. 
 
 DEDICATED WITH UNPARALLELED ADMIRA- 
 TION TO LLOYD GUYOT. 
 
 Deluded man I wouldst vainly strive to lessen logic's force, 
 To check the onward flow of truth, resistless in its course ? 
 Dost see the marvelous beauty of these pantomimic feet ? 
 A telescopic view, could scarce their wonders half repeat. 
 Contrivance such, might outward beauty's transient state 
 
 explain ; 
 But inward beauty's source, would unrevealed, her secret 
 
 still retain. 
 Illogic, senseless, crudest joke, hast perpetrated clear, [a) 
 In it no logic, joke, no sprightly wit, could e'er appear. 
 Well might true logic scorn such wit as thine, so very tame, 
 Indignant spurn the man, that would degrade her attic 
 
 name. 
 Deluded man ! who wouldst th' exalted poet's art essay, 
 And in th' endeavor, folly's most ignoble part display (6) 
 If thus fchy joke, has neither wit, nor logic, in its train. 
 Who then with Horace, could his face from laughter's grin 
 
 restrain ? 
 (a) See Bural World, October 25 and April 24. 
 
 [b] 1 judge ere long you'il try, Convincing us that 
 
 laugliter's but a sigli ! Or, failing that, etc. Tlie tenth line repres- 
 ents me as con^^incing that laughter is a sigh, and tal^en with a 
 portion of the preceding line, it supposes that my trial has pro- 
 duced conviction, the beginning of the 11th line denies this, ** or, 
 failing that, etc' Lloyd Guyot: a little more grammar; less poetry 
 or more. 
 
188 
 
 WATSON VS. GUYOT. 
 
 I deeply sympathize with poor afflicted Guyot, who 
 so justly grieves over the sufferings that he is under 
 the dire necessity of inflicting on the members of the 
 Home Circle. Under such circumstances, it would, in- 
 deed, be cruel in me to bear on the crushed reed with too 
 heavy a hand. Grief, in rough natures, is wont to exhaust 
 itself in such choice language as ''befuddled, etc.," and 
 when you wrote that sentence, you must have been badly 
 befogged. Webster does not give befuddle. But now to 
 the main point at issue. No connective is needed after 
 ''' conviction ^"^^ merely add: in the minds of those persons 
 designatedhy '"us." ''Or failing that," has its proper 
 place in my criticism ; but in your poetry, these words 
 are worse than out of place, they are unsuitable ; as they 
 deny, without any qualifying term, what " convincing us" 
 had before affirmed, and this in a dependent clause of the 
 same sentence or construction, because that of "failing 
 that," has " convincing us" for its antecedent, or rather 
 the whole of the tenth line. 
 
 In the KuRAL World of June 12th, Guyot makes the 
 following admission : What I meant to say, stated in 
 plain prose, is this : " Confused man ! I judge ere long 
 that you will try to convince us that laughter's but a sigh, 
 or failing in that, attempt (improved by, you will attempt) 
 something more difficult by urging that your wit provoked 
 a grin. The admission: "What I meant to say," in 
 reference to the four lines of poetry reinserted by you in 
 the Rural World of June 12th, is tellingly correct, as 
 those four lines of poetry do not express what your prose 
 
- — 18Q 
 
 rendition of them does express. I do not imagine that any 
 intelligent man would maintain that the two following 
 sentences are identical in meaning^'' You'll try convin- 
 cing us that laughter's but a sigh'' and ''you will try to con- 
 vince us that laughter's but a sigh/' In the former, "you'll 
 try is follow^ed by the result ''convincing us." In the 
 latter, or your prose rendition, the case is different, since 
 it is not affirmed '' that you will convince us," but that 
 " you will try to convince us." 
 
 Your puerile remarks about the beginning of a line, 
 are unworthy of even a passing notice. Thus have I 
 cleared myself, and left you as you were from the start, 
 in the wrong. 
 
 Just here, I v^^ould like to know why you always persist 
 in signing yourself Lloyd Guyot? You sign what suits 
 your taste. I do no more ; I sign w^hat suits my taste. Is 
 it not drivelling folly on your part, to descend to such silly 
 remarks in a criticism, in which we might reasonably ex- 
 pect something more manly to predominate. But it is on 
 a par with your hypercritical remarks, in regard to w^hat 
 constitutes the beginning of a line. 
 
 One more remark. It is a common trick of a w^orsted 
 man to cry: "Pedant," against his more successfid 
 adversary. 
 
 A man who properly uses his knowledge when the oc- 
 casion demands it, cannot be said to be pedantic, I plead 
 innocent to the charge of pedantry. It, have I always 
 despised in thought, word and action. I do not remem- 
 ber ever to have boasted of my knowledge of Latin, French 
 German, or even of Coptic, about which I know nothing. 
 
 Dost thou, my friend, rashly deem it a specimen of 
 pedantry, that I should so graciously and condescendingly 
 
__i0a — . 
 
 deign to abase myself, so far, as to beseech thee to swaddle 
 up Pegasus, to mounc this misty, yea and moreover, this 
 fiery steed, and then to cavalierly charge and plunge 
 through the evanescent lucubrations of poetic hallucina- 
 tions; and to grasp, v^ith a firm and a grim grip, the 
 nothingness of all sublunary things. No, my friend . For- 
 bid it, all ye gods ! of the upper, the middle and lower 
 regions. But instead, let our glorious Fourth of July 
 Flag, forever wave over the Homes of the Free and the 
 Brave. 
 
 I have been keenly delighted and gloriously pleased 
 with Koah's last effusion. It w^afts me back again, as it 
 were, through the bright scenes and happy recollections 
 of childhood's days. Thanks to you I^oah. N. B. I'll 
 be after you though, for your first effusion. I suppose 
 the editor has mi slay ed it. 
 
 An anecdote, if you please. 
 
 They w^ere engaged. Pleasure and amusement was 
 the order of the day. In their jaunt, they were nearing 
 a drug store, when the young man inhaled the bewitch- 
 ing Oder of a first class Havana. '' Excuse me, love ! a 
 moment." '' Ko, my dear! for love of me, forego the 
 gratification; let us economize." They passed on. The 
 youth a sadder, if nob a wiser man. The events of human 
 life have their ebb and their flow. So in this case. On 
 their way home, they came near an ice cream saloon. The 
 young man brightened up and said : " I was just on the 
 point of inviting you to step in and take a plate of ice 
 cream. But, no, my dear ! for love of me, forego the 
 gratification. Let us economise." He never saw a mad- 
 der girl. Many months came and passed, before again he 
 dared to use the word economize. 
 
CORDIALLY INSCRIBED 
 
 TO 
 
 Bon Ami, 
 
 BY THE AUTHOK. 
 
 Our cherished friend, how cheery kind thy look. 
 In thee, indulgent nature naught mistook. 
 To others with a sparing, guarded hand ; 
 To thee, whatever was at her command. 
 She, unreserved, most gracious, kind, bestowed. 
 Eor thee, her treasures, boundless, overflowed. 
 Thy body's modest, graceful, winning mien; 
 The sparkling gems of shining soul unseen ; 
 Thy mind's unrivaled, harmless, playful wit. 
 Has roused, resistless, merry laughter's fit. 
 How truly happy then, when thee we view, 
 Then pleasures' notes we gladly all renew ; 
 And truly, dare we not to flatter thee ; 
 Still wisdom's progress do we daily see. 
 Scale glory's dazzling, dizzy heights. 
 Seek, dauntless, virtue and her pure delights. 
 So^hall th' increasing labor well be spent- 
 God's constant care and blessings on it sent— 
 Th' unswerving goodness of thy charming soul, 
 May yet surpass thy brightest merits' scroll. 
 
THE THREE FAMOUS HUNTERS. 
 
 Three Hunters famous, crept along a woody highland 
 
 slope, 
 In which were found the fattest deer, and toughest ante- 
 lope. 
 Young Frank, he was the gentle, nice young man, who 
 
 slept so sound. 
 From morning's sun to evening's rays, asleep so snug, was 
 
 found. 
 They chid him, as destroyer of the famous woodland 
 
 chase. 
 Afraid, he said he was, to breathe — so full of deer the 
 
 place. 
 Against a tree, so firm he stood, the leader of the hunt, 
 The deer, confused when passing, 'twas his duty to con- 
 front. 
 The deer mistook him for a whitish tree, and so they 
 
 passed ; 
 But he, m sorghum much engrossed, its treasures soon 
 
 amassed, 
 Th' astute Judge C. on game laws' sore abuse, intent was 
 
 lie, 
 The game, they passed him round; his laws, they did not 
 
 want to see. 
 Most lucky now, two glossy gobblers of the highland 
 
 breed, 
 In adverse course together fell— the Judge, he checked 
 
 their speed. 
 The Judge's wit, it far surpassed the game laws' slow 
 
 abuse, 
 
193 
 
 The turkeys' heads together ties, and shot with bullet's 
 
 use. 
 Erom that sad day to this, no^ squirrel ever there has yet 
 
 been seen, 
 Kor glossy turkeys' heads, nor rodent's tail, the legs be- 
 tween. 
 The Judge, a moral man was he, addicted not to use 
 A diabolic word, nor failing friends to much abuse; 
 On chis occasion, still, his language failed in nicest choice, 
 The prayer book's meekest lines, did not his angry soul 
 
 rejoice ; 
 Some say, he swore damnation bo the turkeys and the deer, 
 But this, we dare not say, his judgment stern, so much 
 we fear. Juvekis. 
 
 TO THE MOTHERS OF THE HOME CIRCLE. 
 
 Sublimest thoughts, were passing through my mind. 
 
 Fair beauty's grandest thoughts, so well combined. 
 
 :N'ow dearest baby not so plaintive cry. 
 
 My verse so nice, 'twill critics' art defy. 
 
 The critics oft so little understand. 
 
 The work of others, is their chief demand. 
 
 About all things, so wise they flppant speak. 
 
 You'd think that polished folly was their freak. 
 
 ]^ow baby dear, why not be cosy still ? 
 
 Already twice hast marred poetic quill. 
 
 Poor baby could not understand, tli' appeal, 
 
 Kor well a mother's thoughts esthetic feel. 
 
 Not yet had learnt to breast the jars of fame, 
 
-194- 
 
 But still had learnt its wants to loud proclaim. 
 
 Oh dear ! what trouble do these babies give, 
 
 Poetic thoughts with them, so hard they live, 
 
 Sweet mother ! humor baby's present needs, 
 
 'Twill wiser grow, as daily life proceeds. 
 
 You once were young, a mother'3 care you had, 
 
 Quick ! soothe poor baby's pain— 'tis now so glad ! 
 
 For self alone, we surely were not made. 
 
 To others' wants, our care we often grade. 
 
 In this we do th' Almighty's will obey. 
 
 In mansions bright, He'll soon our griefs repay. 
 
 FOR THE HOME CIRCLE'S LITTLE MEN AND 
 WOMEN. 
 
 [Verba movent ; exempla trabunt.—Uor 
 
 Words move : example draws.] 
 
 I. 
 
 With vainest mother's care. 
 Her ways to them (a) so bare. 
 They keenly see, beware ! 
 
 II. 
 The Child, parade she views. 
 Bright folly's changing hues, 
 Thus- vice's germs renews. 
 
 Ill 
 Neglect she may her home, 
 Allow them free to roam, 
 Their faults, she'll soon bemoan. 
 
195 
 
 IV. 
 
 An oath from Father goes, 
 A wicked way, he shows. 
 And sanction bad bestows. 
 
 Y. 
 The strongest drink he takes. 
 It him so merry makes. 
 The Child, its milk forsakes. 
 
 YI. 
 Supply a substitute, (6) 
 Of healthy, good repute, 
 Thus evil talk refute. 
 
 YII. 
 The bigger brother swears, 
 At stolen rabbit snares. 
 The smaller not forbears. 
 
 YIII. 
 Mold not the tender minds, 
 To vice, that easy binds. 
 The Savior's voice reminds. 
 
 IX. 
 Down to the deepest hell, 
 Destruction's dismal knell. 
 Their Fate does sure foretell. 
 
 X. 
 On wax, an image fair 
 Impress, 'tis ever there. 
 
 To childish mind, compare. 
 
 XI. 
 A tiny seed, it grows. 
 Increasing still, it goes, 
 Maturest grain foreshows. 
 
196 
 
 XII. 
 
 Truth to the child is seed, . 
 . Supplies its spirit's need, 
 And makes it good, indeed, 
 
 XIII. 
 Let grace's forces blend, 
 Their amplest powers lend, 
 The child from wrong defend. 
 
 (a) Her little daugliter. 
 
 (6) Strong l)lack coffee or tea, and cake ; or fruits. Good home 
 made cider; if boiled, add water and sugar according to taste. 
 
 THE FARMER'S PRE-EMINENCE. 
 
 The Farmer's uneventful life, 
 So far removed from war, or strife, 
 Is not without a special charm, 
 'Midst treasures of a woodland farm. 
 Without him, comes the pauper's face, 
 To him, we countless pleasures trace. 
 The merchant's coffers are replete 
 With gold. His prices all can meet. 
 Untried the patient Farmer's skill, 
 Who could his empty coffers fill ? 
 Destruction then would sweep the land, 
 Dire famine would supreme command. 
 The merchant's goods would slowly rot, 
 To pieces fall the fisher's cot. 
 Untasted doctor's physic go, 
 Amid unceasing fevers slow. 
 The lawyer might his books consult, 
 
197 
 
 But profit none the more result. 
 
 Starved soon the preacher's gauntest steed, 
 
 Himself reduced to sorest need. 
 
 The rotting ships on muddy shore, 
 
 Eeplenish now the pauper's store. 
 
 The beaver hats to coon- skins changed, 
 
 How sad the hatter's trade deranged. 
 
 Mechanic's tools, forget their trick, 
 
 Are covered all by mould 'ring brick. 
 
 The lightning railroad's speed so long has ceased, 
 
 l^he weeds along the track have much increased. 
 
 Once busy fact'ries now so still, 
 
 Our minds with dread and wonder fill. 
 
 •X- ^ -J?- •?(• -K- -X- •»• 
 
 Hard works the farmer at his home. 
 But many a day he's free to roam. 
 He's happy in his children's sports. 
 Their childish humor, kind supports. 
 Their rougish, merry tricks, so please. 
 Each one in turn, may others tease. 
 Their dearest sisters, tender love. 
 Their boyish pranks, so far above. 
 A mother's gentle, kindest voice. 
 Their simple hearts, does much rejoice. 
 Off to the densest woods they hie, 
 Where countless treasures soon they spy. 
 Now home returned, they eager show 
 Their sacks, from which the walnuts flow. 
 In each one's joy the mother shares, 
 And for their Christmas bliss prepares. 
 Can City's sons such joys possess ? 
 
198 
 
 'Twere rankest folly to confess. 
 The dingy walls, and pavements rough, 
 Are to the childish heart a sore rebuff. 
 Then hail to happy Farmer's country life, 
 So far above the City's dust and strife. 
 
 OF MOTHER-EARTH-HEAVEN. 
 
 THE COUNTER PART : 
 
 FATHER-EARTH-HEAVEN. 
 
 Ill fares the social, rural, lonely cot, 
 
 Bereft of Father's rule, so long forgot ; 
 
 His is th' impulsive youths to manly guide, 
 
 And check the sallies of their wanton pride. 
 
 Their manlike nature needs restraining curb, 
 
 Without restraint they'll soon to evil herd. 
 
 The steady Father's ever watchful care 
 
 May all their daily faults, secure repair. 
 
 His ever present eye, effective trains 
 
 To order, and submission easy gains. 
 
 His sons equipped for deadly struggles hard, 
 
 From pleasures meet, they'll ne'er be just debarred. 
 
 Sweet home delights shall gratify their taste, 
 
 And on their road to blissful country haste ; 
 
 Such blessings from a Father's care, they flow, 
 
 For Heaven, prepare their souls from here below. 
 
 And thus a two-fold bliss on sons bestow, 
 
 From sources rare, success we must derive, 
 
 In>irtue's path, the soul we cannot drive. 
 
-199- 
 
 All this example can more surely do, 
 Than all the nicest words, we ever knew. 
 
 HARVEST WOOD. 
 
 ''Why now, so slow, my Sallie dear ! 
 The workmen for their meal appear. 
 The yellow, waving fields, are ripe, 
 The green has wholly changed its stripe. 
 An hour's tardy, wanton loss. 
 Our profits to the winds may toss. 
 In sunshine, make the better hay ; 
 In rain, the grass may moldly stay." 
 '• Most just, your urgent, wise demand, 
 The wood I have, at scantest hand ; 
 The breakfast now, may barely pass, 
 The wood, for noon-day meal, amass." 
 The crowds to work, they merry go, 
 On wood, a thought, they ne'er bestow. 
 To home, fatigued, they weary come, 
 In burning force, the mid-day sun. 
 They wait, then patience surly grows, 
 The wrathful husband anger shows. 
 " The viands sweet, to sun exposed, 
 Where once the wood, it snug reposed, 
 Shall soon, or later, hunger cure. 
 A fresh supply of wood ensure. 
 She said, with smile and archest look. 
 Again, the wood, they ne'er mistook. 
 
200 
 
 EDUCATION. 
 
 A man of one idea read, 
 
 That wisdom from the earth had fled. 
 
 Said he, a most propitious time. 
 
 The heavenly mind 'twere basest crime 
 
 To keep aloof from wisdom's lore. 
 
 And all its beauties not explore, 
 
 'Tis Education molds the mind. 
 
 And wisdom teaches how to find, 
 
 'Tis true, the body's forces weak, 
 
 In plainest terms they speak. 
 
 The weakest child must wisdom learn, 
 
 And sluggish matter's wants thus spurn. 
 
 Suppose the body slowly sinks. 
 
 The mind in splendor sweeter thinks. 
 
 Exalt we must, the nobler part, 
 
 With Education's ev'ry art. 
 
 Of noblest parts, are we composed, 
 
 Of body, pris'ner mind inclosed. 
 
 Supremely foolish, heedless acts, 
 
 Who lives forgetful of these facts. 
 
 To each a proper care extend, 
 
 And from excess, the soul defend. 
 
 We may unmindful never live. 
 
 To frailest body, nothing give. 
 
 The ancients understood their man, 
 
 Erom tender childhood, wisdom's plan. 
 
 The child was taught the arts of life, 
 
 His part to act, in daily strife. 
 
 But now— the child is steady crammed, 
 
-201- 
 
 With knowledge undigested, rammed. 
 
 On wits, through wicked life, must only thrive, 
 
 And naught, from Education bad, derive, 
 
 MY GIFT. 
 
 To my nephew in law Norman Wright, 
 On the day, on which he was half Wright. 
 To Frances Watson, surely Wright, 
 On the day on which she was all Wright. 
 
 How bright the dazzling target new! 
 Do many strike the centre view. 
 But wherefore failed the shot to strike? 
 Was e'er before a failure like? 
 The marksman of his prize secure, 
 His soul defeat must now endure, 
 Th' unsteady breeze, it quivered so, 
 Th' enchanting prize, he must forego. 
 How brightly shines the soul's delight. 
 Can aught obscure its blissful sight? 
 Can passions gloom, her gaze withstand, 
 With all the force she may command. 
 Fair Virtue strikes the centre view. 
 And all your joy, shall thus renew. 
 Without her aid you strive in vain, 
 Keceding bliss, you cannot gain. 
 With steady aim, and virtue's glow, 
 You have what earth may ne'er bestow. 
 In union may your peace be laid, 
 With God's eternal bliss repaid. 
 
TO BON AMI. 
 
 Good Friend, why would you ardent undertake 
 A task that might the bravest fearful make? 
 Blame not the preachers, nor their shrewdest friends: 
 Dependence, truth and folly easy blends. 
 Delusive error's fickle dimmest ray. 
 Is light to those that shun the blaze of day. 
 Could you a mountain hurl from firmest base, 
 The weakness of such souls you might replace. 
 How sweet to guileless souls bright wisdom's ways. 
 With scorn the stolid fool advice repays. 
 Opinions long, no one can easy change. 
 Too great a haste, smooth action's wheels derange. 
 Increasing, steady, good in patience wrought, 
 With fairest virtue's fruit is often fraught 
 Perhaps too philosophic this you deem, 
 Assigned to folly's arrant, shapeless dream. 
 Of fools the number most surpassing strange, 
 Abound they still in palace and the grange. 
 Of you or me, or Colmak' Eural Pagje, 
 No man can say, without dread peril's rage, 
 To arms ! the Circle cries. Defend we must 
 The leaders, from the cruel madman's thrust. 
 Fear not, my friends, the Bon Ami's a host, 
 To naught their banter, and their silly boast. 
 In virtue's armor clad, he manful goes, 
 Destruction hurls, on most unwary foes. 
 A smile derisive on their lips it steals, 
 And all the venom of their souls reveals. 
 If not to death, to silence fierce impels 
 
-•203- 
 
 Good Friend, all those immured in folly's spells. 
 All o'er the Circle's homes, free banners wave, 
 The richest, last bequest of Sires brave. 
 
 WHAT ARE EVILS? 
 
 And still the fires, they busy rage, 
 And Kansas Rest would more engage, 
 And Frank, he would most solemn say 
 Our forces now, they seek display. 
 Produce no corn, nor barley straw, 
 They soon may change, to whisky raw. 
 In them great evils are concealed. 
 Their woes unnumbered, unrevealed. 
 Conceded that it may be so, 
 From other sources, evils flow. 
 The diamonds and the dresses dear, 
 Are things that free men justly fear. 
 No man a slave can willing be, 
 With might and main, from it will flee. 
 Wise Horace understood the case. 
 To draw a tear from other's face. 
 Yourself must lead the weeping way, 
 Hot, flowing tears, must not delay. 
 Let women check their gaudy show, 
 And simpler methods, wisely know ; 
 Domestic virtues cultivate. 
 Imagined woes much less dilate. 
 Joy seeking hearts, we all possess, 
 Their throes, we never can repress, 
 If mothers' homes, no joys afford. 
 
204 ' 
 
 We seek them at another's board. 
 This law, you may not contradict, 
 ^or man to labor all, restrict. 
 Examples from the mothers teach, 
 What harshest laws can never reach. 
 Attractive homesteads, let them make, 
 ^N'or man, nor child, will them forsake. 
 To think that men will models be. 
 From dissipation ever flee. 
 When women but themselves, they seek, 
 Snpposes men to be too meek. 
 Ko play for man, can never work. 
 Indignant, this he'll surely shirk. 
 
 EQUAL RIGHTS. 
 
 Coii.'CoLMAK :— I most earnestly protest against any 
 change in the Home Circle. For gracious goodness sake, 
 we have already nearly books enough on Dry Goods and 
 Preserves. He, indeed, must be a poor, pitiful, thriftless 
 specimen of a farmer, who is unable or unwilling to buy 
 the books needed for himself and family. Might not the 
 Home Circle appropriately adopt the motto ; 
 
 Equal rights to all : 
 Exclusive privileges to none. 
 
 My sister dear— sweet Ina is her honored, stainless name— 
 With magic voice, so well she can her social rights proclaim. 
 An ample Circle, at most happy home, I cut in twain. 
 That thus, in self defense, 1 could my equal rights main- 
 tain. 
 Delight extreme was pictured on her fair, angelic brow, 
 
205 
 
 Because her fondest, only wish, she easy got, just now. 
 Contentment far outspread her wdngs, and Semi-Circles 
 
 both entwined, 
 And vainly strove secure to make our everlasting bliss 
 
 combined. 
 My charming Semi-Circle true, did ever so remain ; 
 Her's was too small, expansive, endless, notions to contain. 
 She earnest came, and vainly wished a place in my domain. 
 You have, most clear and well-defined, the choicest rights 
 
 you sought— 
 What now, so sad a change, untimely has it vv^rouglit ? 
 Confounding all the laws of I'lght, man's ev'ry social 
 
 thought. 
 With Us, Creation's Lords, cm equal terms you would 
 
 contend. 
 To equal education and the suifrage, views extend. 
 Why, then, encroach and tresspass on the Sacred Circle's 
 
 Home ? 
 Ambition, man's supreme control, on this his thoughts 
 
 they roam. 
 As well as you, lie has an active, energetic soul ; 
 His manly thoughts, do not, always, so kindly brook con- 
 trol. 
 Drive him, all his ambitions, from the magic Circle's 
 
 Home, 
 Then on forbidden thoughts and scenes you force his mind 
 
 to roam ; 
 And how could jealous, v/oman fair, such naughty course 
 
 approve ? 
 Then, from the happy Circle's Home, his thoughts do not 
 
 remove. Juvenis. 
 
206 
 
 THE WONDERFUL EFFECTS OF HARMONY. 
 
 Taking either a literary or a musical view of Paulus' 
 production, published in the Rural World January 31, 
 we may appropriately style it an Extravaganza. 
 
 A sorry joke, indeed, must that be, which needs ex- 
 planation. Some of Paulus' embryonic jokes, sorely stand 
 in need of such adventitious aid. With pleasure, I now 
 proceed to gratify his poetic cravings : 
 
 HARMONICALLY DEDICATED TO PAULTJS. 
 
 Sweet Paulus is a nice young man, 
 Umbrella bring, and dainty fan. 
 These does he thorough understand, 
 Beyond, naught else may you demand. 
 Were he a grinning skull to find. 
 We'd see his feet to flight inclined ; 
 A doleful dirge most sad would sing, 
 Most bitter tears from rocks would wring. 
 Chorus : Sweet Paulus is a nice young man, 
 Umbrella bring, and dainty fan. 
 
 Along the northern seas have swept, 
 The ships that once in thraldom slept. 
 The ice long since has disappeared. 
 The ships the coast, so close have neared, 
 Th' incautious whales secure are caught, 
 Their struggles now with danger fraught. 
 Their pliant bones, so sore we need, 
 The price is fixed by sailors' greed. 
 Chorus : Sweet Paulus, etc, 
 
207 
 
 Hard works a force of active men, 
 
 Umbrellas liage, we gladly ken. 
 
 Misfortunes dire abrupt arose, 
 
 On Paulus swift, their weight impose, [a) 
 
 His bones like wire, they slowly crack. 
 
 Stretched cruel to their utmost rack. 
 
 Quick bring cologne and dainty fan. 
 
 Or else, we'll see a dying man. 
 
 Chorus : Sweet Paulus, etc. 
 
 Grim terror seizes now his soul. 
 
 Protrude his bones from body whole. (6) 
 
 A whale bone he so deftly takes, 
 
 And back bones new, he clever makes. 
 
 A fan would fain so nicely make, 
 
 And to the ladies joyous take. 
 
 The toughest bone, it broke in two, 
 
 But this he could not join anew. 
 
 Chorus : Sweet Paulus, etc. 
 
 He lovely sang the sweetest song, 
 
 The pieces joined just all along, 
 
 Th' enchanted birds came flying down, 
 
 The sable crows with ebony crown. 
 
 Sang chanticleer, his shrillest blast. 
 
 The owl, he thought, it was too fast. 
 
 The sparrow shy, he only said : 
 
 " Sweet Paulus," and he quickly fled. 
 
 Chorus : Sweet Paulus is a nice young man, 
 
 Umbrella bring, and dainty fan. 
 
 (a) The superincumbent weight of the huge umbreUas crush- 
 ed the poor yonugman down to the very earth. 
 
 (6) Forcibly reminding one of the ghastly appearance of a 
 partially developed skeleton. 
 
-208- 
 
 A TRAMP. 
 
 Good morning, Rev. Father A., 
 
 Why look yon now so very gay, 
 
 Have fortune's freaks a kindness shown, 
 
 Your path, with golden honors, strewn ? 
 
 I came express to wish you well, 
 
 My joy so great, I cannot tell. 
 
 The goodness of your soul, I know. 
 
 Its virtue shines with brightest glow. 
 
 To gen'rous give, you never fail. 
 
 In Parish, 'tis a household tale. 
 
 I have a slight request to make. 
 
 And only for sweet virtue's sake. 
 
 Oppression's ruthless, grinding hand, 
 
 Has haughty spurned my just demand. 
 
 A helpless wife, five children too, 
 
 My bitter, daily griefs renew. 
 
 Could you a slight advance afford, 
 
 Eor wife's and children's pressing board ? 
 
 Most opportune, my sturdy friend. 
 
 Could you, 'a helping hand extend ? 
 
 My place is new, the walks are rough, 
 
 The w^orking hands, not half enough. 
 
 Come, take the shining spade and hoe, 
 
 And deftly show us, what you know — 
 
 Good day, kind friend, I may not stay, 
 
 To wife must go, without delay. 
 
 The Knave, the spade, may ready take. 
 Be sure you watch the outer gate, 
 
209 
 
 PSEUDO-CRITICISM. 
 
 To criticise is such an easy thing, 
 
 To hurl a missile with envenomed sting, 
 
 To tell us all what might be useful done ; 
 
 When slowly go, or speed to graceful shun. 
 
 But let us wisely compromise the case, 
 
 Dame Nature's talents not so quick displace. 
 
 A worthy man of unpoetic turn, 
 
 Grows stolid cold, when poets ardent burn. 
 
 In him, blame not the most prosaic mind. 
 
 His hobby 'tis, but of one only kind. 
 
 Some dearly love to tease, and gently fight, 
 
 Quixotic, can you always tell who's right ? 
 
 To restaurant for meal you hungry go. 
 
 With rarest fish, your plate must overflow. 
 
 Perhaps your neighbor hates the finny tribe. 
 
 Of them just naught would taste for richest bribe. 
 
 An Editor must a feast so well contrive. 
 
 That all from it, may pleasure sweet derive. 
 
 Despotic some would have their darling way. 
 
 And none from_ them should different think, or sixy 
 
 The greatest good, for greatest number be ; 
 
 But not what 1 or you, for self may see. 
 
 THE TRAITOR. 
 
 The Traitor had a key for noble use, 
 
 Th' ignoble wretch turned it to vile abuse. 
 
 With outstretched hands,his friends besought relief 
 
 His venal soul was deaf to manly grief. 
 
— 2in — 
 
 His groveling mind was bought with perjured gold.* 
 
 For this his vote, the key, he basely sold. 
 
 To former friends, his present foes, return 
 
 He may : hut friendless him, they'll surely spurn. 
 
 Vast hoarded wealth may scorn a just appeal ; 
 
 But mind, on hoarded wealth, will vengeance deal. 
 
 A pampered few may wealth's delusions boast, 
 
 And sums immense expend on barren coast, 
 
 And snag infested, sand-bar river shore. 
 
 To West from sordid East, such gifts, naught more. 
 
 The masses do sometimes most slowly move ; 
 
 But vengeance' day, will traitors sharply prove. 
 
 A mighty River's force, who can restrain ? 
 
 And who th' oppressor's hated sway maintain ? 
 
 Derisive smile, on pampered lips, it steals, 
 
 But future, sure defeat, it ill conceals. 
 
 Twice have we fought, in freedom's sacred cause, 
 
 For Wife and Home, shall we ignoble pause ? 
 
 A close united Nation's hoarded gold, 
 
 Shall not to Section's friends its force unfold. 
 
 What comes from a United Nation's hands ; 
 
 Must yield obedience to her just demands. 
 
 Free Trade, in Elvers' unimpeded course; 
 
 Cheap rivers to their primal, distant source. 
 
 *0r sometliing else of like value. 
 
— 211 
 
 AN ACCIDENT THAT NEVER 
 HAPPENED. 
 
 What happened to the Colonel yesterday, 
 Could you my truthful friend, for certain say? 
 That information truly cannot give, 
 Naught evil as I surely hope to live. 
 Amiss do not distress your anxious mind, 
 Naught wrong to him has happened, as I find. 
 Have you heard what happened to the Colonol yes- 
 terday? I have not. Neither have I. 
 
 Well now the Colonol went deer-hunting in the in- 
 terior of the state, early last week, taking his son Frank 
 his dogs, guns and camping equuipments along. Mr. 
 Watson -s lines were wTitten before he left, hence have 
 no reference to w^hat may have happened since. He felt a 
 little funny w^hen he wrote them, which by the way, he is 
 much in the habit of doing. 
 
 . AGRICULTURIAL 
 
 1884. THE EDITORS TO THE PATRONS OF 1884. 
 COLMAN'S RURAL WORLD. 
 
 Our w^ork well done secure we now may rest, 
 Your aid for present year we must request. 
 Your numerous flocks, in shelter close repose, 
 The sharpest winds defy, and wasting snows. 
 Through anxious months we've fought the farmer's cause 
 With scarce the time to more than healthy pause. 
 The pen strikes deeper than the trenchant sword, 
 Resistless most for farmer's free abode. 
 
-212- 
 
 Our pen, unerring speeds in wisdom^s ways, 
 
 From frozen Maine to Colorado strays. 
 
 We teach the sons of toil from ^N'orth to South, 
 
 The secrets of the harvest and the drouth. 
 
 To drainage we'll direct their useful thought, 
 
 And show them treasures where they should be sought. 
 
 A man in foolish work may sore expend. 
 
 The strength on which a wife and child depend. 
 
 Let sharpest wisdom guide the laboring hand, 
 
 Deep drainage does unfailing gains command. 
 
 Sweet sorghum's cause we do most earnest plead, 
 
 It shows an easy way to conquer need. 
 
 Why spend your money for a stranger's sweets, 
 
 When well tilled soil your every want it meets. 
 
 Your fleecy flocks can onward drive the blast, 
 
 They have for farmers treasures rich amassed. 
 
 The lowing rampant herd and sluggish swine, 
 
 May well engage the farmer's leisure time. 
 
 They have their wants, these must you not neglect, 
 
 On empty purse you may most sad reflect. 
 
 For stacks extended to their utmost bound, 
 
 For barn and crib in utmost plenty found. 
 
 For all these many blessings we rejoice; 
 
 Due thanks to God we give with cheerful voice, 
 
 And happy view the coming prospect bright. 
 
 When we'll ascend to God's eternal light. 
 
213 
 
 WILL FAWLEY. 
 
 Abundant lack of social taste, 
 
 Excel you do, by careless haste. 
 
 A line hast penned of deadest prose, [a) 
 
 From Amphibrach, it stolid rose. 
 
 Poetic as your head, or nose. 
 
 Severe poetic composition same. 
 
 Demands good stanzas of an equal fame. 
 
 YouVe badly mixed your huddled verse, 
 
 In pedal length 'tis short— not terse. 
 
 The measures play at hide and seek. 
 
 They're neither highest Dutch, nor Greek. 
 
 Dull Peg'sus (6) yours does sluggish stir. 
 
 Pie barely brays a puss-like pur. 
 
 When nexc the Circle's rights you claim, 
 
 Let not ill manners mar your name. 
 
 (a) Even Watson who lias lost. 
 (6) Pegasus. 
 
 TIME AND HOPE. 
 
 In youth, we think the years will never come ; 
 Th' advancing age, quick flies th' augmented sum. 
 The passing joys and griefs of tender age, 
 A kaleidoscopic view% on every page. 
 In quick succession most erratic write. 
 To it, how slow time's weary, dragging flight. 
 The griefs, they travel with a giants' stride, 
 The joys, in slowest coachman's chaise, they ride. 
 
214 
 
 The griefs we shun ; the joys embrace in vain : 
 When caught, we sadly feel, they naught contain. 
 In hot pursuit, we onward steady press ; 
 Our failures past, reluctant we confess. 
 Hope spreads her wings ; expands a dazzlihg sight: 
 Invites the soul to come, and win the fight. 
 We struggle hard along the roughest road, 
 Most patient bear, the oft increasing load. 
 But why pursue we thus, a phantom chase ; 
 The soul to work, must have an ampler space. 
 Why then not rise above the things of earth, 
 And feed her with the hopes of heav'nly birth 
 On these she'll farther fly. than farthest flight 
 Of worldly hopes, allured by nature's might. 
 But how you ask, can wondrous this be so ? 
 Because to heavenly birth, we onward flow. 
 
 Rev, GEO. A. WATSON. 
 
 iq 183^, oq t\\e occasion of Lafayette's death, if my nqenqory 
 serves me right, a mock naval battle took place or} Chouteau's 
 poqd, well out from sl^ore, aqd inqmediately north of the mlll- 
 danq. Seated among my fellow studeqts oq tlqe shore, I witness- 
 ed th^e burqiqg of tlqe miniature ship, wh^ich Iqad first served for 
 a pyrotechnic display. A clergynqan who does not live nqore tlqan 
 two h[undred miles fronq Compton Hill ch^alleqged nqe to write 
 aqything dibout th3.t picturesque locality. Revertiqg to bygone 
 years, I give the reader 
 
 boyhood's pleasures. 
 My feeble friend, what may the matter be, 
 Forgotten is your former buoyant glee? 
 Perhaps 'tis time's relentless hand, 
 
215 
 
 That dares not sudden urge his fieice demand, 
 
 The lilly gently yields, its days are passed: 
 
 The sturdy oak withstands tornado's blast, 
 
 Kefrain my friend, thy aim has missed the mark. 
 
 The burning mast, how tierce the fight! Oh hark, 
 
 The vessel sweeps the shore near Compton Height ; 
 
 In plastic mud she sinks ; disastrous flight ! 
 
 ^ear bleakest Compton Hill I'll never tarry more. 
 
 Where once the merry skater's swept the wind before. 
 
 On smoothest ice they move, and agile curve, 
 
 Their names appear, the work of steady nerve. ' 
 
 On surging waves the swimmers rise and fall ; 
 
 But now through thickest mud ignoble crawl. 
 
 A creek there was ; a mill in motion set, 
 
 Now mud and dust. Old Father Time would fret. 
 
 Old Father Time, he crooked* blessed the marshy shore. 
 
 Where once the skaters swept the fiercest gales before. 
 
 * Mill creek in its day, was as crooked, as a weeping willow or 
 an opossum's tail. 
 
 ^^^ 
 
THE DEATH OF PRESIDENT HARRISON. 
 
 BY WILLIS. 
 
 Lay his sword on his breast ! There's no spot on its blade 
 In whose cankering breath his bright laurels will fade. 
 'Twas the first to lead on at humanity's call- 
 It was stayed with sweet mercy when '' glory " was all. 
 As calm in the council, as gallant in war, 
 He fought for his country, and not for its hurrah ! 
 In the path of the hero, with pity he trod— 
 Let him pass — with his sword— to the presence of God. 
 Follow now, as ye list I The first mourner to-day 
 Is the Nation — whose father is taken away ! 
 Wife, children and neighbor may moan at his knell. 
 He was '' lover and friend "to his country as well. 
 Tor the stars on our banner grown suddenly dim ! 
 Let us weep in our darkness— but weep not for him ! 
 Not for him, who departing, leaves millions in tears I 
 Not for him — who has died full of honor and years ! 
 Not for him— who ascended fame's ladder on high ! 
 From the round at the top, he has stepped to the sky. 
 It is blessed to go, when so ready to die. 
 
 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 
 
 Th' assassin twice has struck his murderous blow, 
 Yet freedom's fires burn still with fiercer glow. 
 
A Nation's dreadful raging anger speaks, 
 And on the guilt}^ head, just vengeance wreaks. 
 Th' afflicted mother's grief, doth sore abide, 
 From it and wifely anguish, can he hide ? 
 Is there a cottage, or a lowly place. 
 That can his crime conceal, without disgrace ? 
 Down trail the Nation's glory to the dust, 
 Consign him to corruption's loathesome rust. 
 Prolong his lasting degradation's wail. 
 Eternal horror of his crime prevail. 
 Eecord it not, sweet memory's golden page, 
 The Nation's Hero, slain in madman's rage. 
 
 Written on the day of the President's solemn Obsequies. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Julia Isabella Aatas Six Years, Seveq Monties Daugh[ter of 
 George Prer[dergast, St. Louis County. 
 
 A mother's GRIEF. 
 
 To me ^s Julia Isabel, for ever lost ? 
 Death's gloomy ocean, may it never be recrossed ! 
 Shall all the beauties, of her budding soul be nipped, 
 Fond Parents hopes, in primal source, untimely clipped? 
 The drooping, faded flowers, a mighty curse do show, 
 And thus, they slowly cease, their fragrance to bestow. 
 From fleeting pleasure's poisoned, deadly source, scarce 
 
 had she time, 
 A draught to take, and thus escaped the dangers of liei' 
 
 prime. 
 
218 
 
 Hers was a promise of excelliag matchless worth, 
 From gracious Heaven, a priceless gem, to lowly earth. 
 Her little winning, artless ways, a charm possessed, 
 Approving smiles, a mother's love, but half confessed. 
 Hers was a deft, a steady, ready, willing hand, 
 A mother's faintest wish, was her supreme command. 
 Destruction's power has claimed the drooping lilly bright, 
 K^ow sadness most intense, effaces past delight. 
 Eelentless death has sped his most unsparing dart, 
 Religion's soothing care, may yet — a balm impart. 
 Shall cruel death's dominion, never be destroyed ? 
 And God's ecstatic bliss, by worthy souls enjoyed ? 
 The last accounting day, in glory shall restore, 
 To us, our dearest, darling one, for ever more. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM OF MICHAEL NAUGHTON. 
 
 Accidentally Killed, April 8th[ 1882. 
 
 The fell destroyer has dealt his deadly blow. 
 The widow's bitter tears, most freely flow. 
 We all must die ;— but oh ! the rending pang, 
 When his last shriek, upon the air it rang. 
 A single moment's warning, not his chance. 
 Death sped his cruel, most unerring lance. 
 Death's wasting hand, a steady grief imparts, 
 Life's vgor suddengone,— it doubly smarts. 
 God calls us to his happy, blest abode ; 
 Sometimes how very sad the dreary road. 
 Eeligion strengthening, healing balm bestows, 
 Quick grace's gift, the soul it overflows. 
 
-219- 
 
 Grieve not as they, who have no certain hope, 
 And who, desponding ways, in darkness grope. 
 To God we turn our souls, in bitter grief. 
 From Him, we may obtain a sure relief. 
 
 COL. A, W. SLAYBA.CK 
 
 ACTION OPPORTUNE. 
 I. 
 
 Spry S. H. Laflin, he who kept so still, 
 His shrewdest voice, it was so very shrill, 
 The Merchants' Hall, 'twould soon entire fill. 
 
 II. 
 Men of the Future Great ! why stand we here ? 
 About his matchless fame, what can we fear ? 
 His deeds emblazoned high, they now appear. 
 
 III. 
 The fadeless laurel wreath, we say encore ; 
 His soul in other realms may happy soar, 
 To Us, Him gloomy death, will ne'er restore. 
 
 lY. 
 
 Address we now, to his lamenting friends. 
 Whose tearful souls, their grief, it sadly rends, 
 In sore affliction's sobs, it vain contends. 
 
 V. 
 Assuage oppressive grief, we justly strive, 
 Away, blunt sorrow's pain, we gently drive, 
 And for the Widow's days, a joy contrive. 
 
220 
 
 VI. 
 
 Disdain we much, a paltry alms to show, 
 
 His princely, life long worth, too well we know 
 
 But friendship's gifts, most free we shall bestow, 
 
 YII. 
 The Future Great, his many deeds they grace. 
 Most sad, th' untimely end of manly race. 
 His worth in honor's roll, who can replace? 
 
 IRELAND. 
 
 Of bitter suffering, shall there never be an end ? 
 Must sorrows' darts, to ever endless griefs extend ? 
 How sadly vain to us, have been the ways of peace, 
 The raking anguish of our hearts, e'er on tli' increase- 
 Affliction's overflowing cup, we've daily drained, 
 Ko longer can unbidden tears, be now restrained. 
 Our unremitting toil can scarce a pittance gain. 
 Sufficient just, the soul in body to retain. 
 This state of degradation, never have we wrought ; 
 Against its grinding curse, most bravely have we fought. 
 A most unfeeling cruel ruthless sister's savage mind, 
 Eelentless and vindictive, in all evil most refined. 
 Has foulest, lasting wrongs unnumbered, on us heartless 
 
 heaped. 
 And thus her murderous soul, in unresisting blood is 
 
 steeped. 
 The earth God gave to Adam and his sons, for their sup- 
 port ; 
 This claim to haughty conqueror, is no more than silly 
 sport. 
 
A just and great avenging God, sees all onr wrongs. 
 Inflicts on guilty nations, evil that belongs. 
 How very slow to us may be, supreme, almighty ways ; 
 Of mighty souls the wicked deeds, ia anger he repays. 
 The darkest night, may yet the brightest day precede, 
 And sorrows' griefs, with haughty Albion's pride recede. 
 Then joyful shall we welcome, Sunburst's daw^ning day. 
 And hated Saxon drive from Erin's every bay. 
 A giant nation then may spring, to human rights alive, 
 And untold blessings, both from man and gracious God, 
 derive. 
 
 THE LAND LEAGUES APPEAL 
 
 Has God created all this joyous, lovely earth. 
 To be th' ignoble sport of rank, and highest birth ? 
 Must all its sparkling treasures, and its fruitful lands, 
 Become the merry playthings, and th' enslaving bands. 
 Of a select, exclusive, chosen, pampered few ? 
 And millions left, the beggar's wof ul lot to rue. 
 Was such the gracious, common Father's primal will. 
 When Adam's sons were told, th' inviting earth to fill? 
 The craft and cunning of the wary, wicked mind. 
 Has oft oppressed the best of human kind. 
 If craft may justice to the winner thus impart, 
 A craft reverse, may yet defeat the keenest art. 
 Deliver not the land to dumb creation's paws, 
 Eestore it rather, to th' immortals' wiser laws. 
 
FIVE PERIODS OF HUMAN LIFE. 
 I. 
 
 INFANCY. 
 
 The baby crows, 
 The mother knows^ 
 Its sparkling eyes. 
 Are its replies. 
 
 II. 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 The sly young coon I caught, 
 With wicked claws it fought, 
 My mittens saved my hands, 
 Its teeth ripped my sleeve bands, 
 'Twill be my little pet, 
 I^Tow mother, do not fret. 
 
 My pretty cambric dress, 
 Put by in mamma's press. 
 To pieces now is torn ; 
 Its loss, I sadly mourn. 
 Oh! wicked Poll I'll switch, 
 Thee ! hateful, ugly witch. 
 
^223 
 
 III. 
 BOYHOOD. 
 
 Far famed old College am I bound, 
 Where wisdom's ways are surely found. 
 Its trials must I bravely meet, 
 My lessons daily to repeat. 
 My mind with useful truth to store, 
 Sweet knowledge and its brightest lore. 
 Desponding thoughts for wicked elves, 
 For God helps those, who help themselves. 
 
 GIRLHOOD. 
 
 Th' improvement of my mind, my present good, 
 
 Th' Academy grand, is my secure abode. 
 
 A parting look, at all my dresses neat. 
 
 Such occupation, seldom to repeat. 
 
 The tidy bonnet's fashion's highest trim, 
 
 For dashing youth's complexion, very prim. 
 
 Must now, my mind on thoughts more useful spend. 
 
 And reason's forces, from parade unbend. 
 
 lY. 
 
 MANHOOD— WOMAKHOOD. 
 
 The fruitful, flaming orb of beauteous May, 
 Will suffer not, the dormant herbs' delay. 
 Eesistless, joyous, gaily must they spring. 
 And soft enchantment to the breezes fling. 
 Th' unbudding soul of tender, youthful age, 
 Such traits exhibits, in its ev'ry stage. 
 
224 
 
 It mighty spans the chasms of time and space, 
 The forceful germ of love expands apace. 
 Youth fearless of impending danger, goes 
 Unconscious of sly treasure's lurking foes. 
 
 Y. 
 
 OI.D AGE. 
 
 With oft repeated toil the snail completes its race, 
 Thus slowly does Old Age, its last resort embrace. 
 Why to the present with unwonted fervor cling ? 
 Can past and faded joys in quick relief upspring, 
 The soul imparts the energetic, dying spark, 
 Her comrade gives the final signal to embark. 
 The soul acute, inspects her last abiding place, 
 Avoid dCvSti-uction's sure advancing work, to face. 
 And anx i ous feels her death-struck members, torpid grow . 
 The world and gilded folly she must now forego. 
 But yet, one farewell glance on this her earthly scene, 
 And then from mortal eye, tho future is her screen. 
 
 THE GAME OF CHESS. 
 
 Mr. Frederick L. Slous, an octogenarian, when a boy in his teens, 
 composed a poem, which has been republished a number of 
 times, the last time in the Glasgow Herald. It describes in 
 verse a game of Chess without the usual nomenclature, and so 
 well does the writer do it that any reader can make out the 
 moves without difficulty. We publish it omittiug the intro- 
 duction, and trust that the moves will be made on the board as 
 the poem is being perused. 
 
 First to the fight the white imperial Pawn 
 Two paces strides across the chequered lawn ; 
 With equal haste, inspired with equal rage. 
 
225 
 
 The swarthy Pion rushes to engage ; 
 
 In middle space th' opposing heroes frown'd, 
 
 Prepared to strike, yet impotent to wound. 
 
 On different sides the hostile Knights advance, 
 
 Shake their keen brands, and couch their beamy lance; 
 
 Tasgar the fierce, and Asdrubal the stroQg, 
 
 Whose deeds transcend the feeble powers of song. 
 
 iN'ext from afar, with bold, impetuous spring, 
 
 The martial Bishops rush from wing to wing ; 
 
 Well skilled in death, the pointed dart they throw, 
 
 Yet sometimes close and grapple with the foe. 
 
 Koland the brave, the candid chieftain's name, 
 
 The black, Argante, high enrolPd in fame. 
 
 With cautious step, behind his ample shield, 
 
 The Bishop's Pavv^n moves onward to the field ; 
 
 When, from the swarthy ranks, with fiery haste. 
 
 The Black King's Knight indignant Orcan passed. 
 
 O'er all the field he cast his angry eyes, 
 
 At length th e royal pawn forlorn he spies. 
 
 And aims a blow,— meanwhile for danger rife, 
 
 The White Queen's Pawn leaps forth aimd the strife. 
 
 Incautious youth! by one descending blow 
 
 He sinks in blood before his sable foe! 
 
 Beneath his throat the thirsty weapon glides, 
 
 And breath and life at one foul thrust divides: 
 
 Ponderous he falls— his clanging arms resound— 
 
 And terror chills each beating heart around. 
 
 Kevenge : revenge ! the swarthy victor bleeds ! 
 
 Grim visaged death arrests his gallant deeds, 
 
 For as to spoil the panting chief he press 'd, 
 
 The Bishop's Pawn transpierced his eager breast. 
 
226 
 
 Convulsed he falls — with glances that deride, 
 
 The insulting foe beheld him as he died; 
 
 Then leaped exulting where supine he lay, 
 
 And hurl'd in air the gory corse away. 
 
 With daring hate beside the sheltering wing, 
 
 The gloomy Bishop threats the candid King. 
 
 A Knight there stood, as yet unknown to fame, 
 
 Beauteous as morn, and Mildar was his name; 
 
 With loyal wish his sacred wish to screen. 
 
 Prepared for death, he bravely springs between, 
 
 Ah! hapless youth! by ruthless fate decreed 
 
 Before thy monarch's pitying eye to bleed! 
 
 The star crowned gods, who sit enthroned above, 
 
 In awful guise around Olympian Jove, 
 
 W^ho gaze on war amongst us mortal elves. 
 
 With cheek unblenched (being safe and snug themselves), 
 
 E'en they imasked, from Heaven's unclouded sphere 
 
 Had dropped one soft commiserating tear: 
 
 Had now abandoned 'midsb the gory plain. 
 
 The Boyal Pion dies by Orcan slain. 
 
 Behind the ranks, the King retires from sight. 
 
 The watchful Book protects him in his flight. 
 
 Inflamed with rage that yet unsated burns. 
 
 The swarthy Knight to youthful Mildar turns: 
 
 Full on his chest the ponderous steel descends. 
 
 And through his helm a struggling passage rends: 
 
 His crashing skull the grinding stroke divides, 
 
 And to the throat with force resistless glides. 
 
 Whilst from their hollow seats pressed forth and crushed, 
 
 The bleeding eyes with brains commingled rush'd. 
 
 Fired at the sight, his trusty Pion stood. 
 
227 
 
 And marked with swelling breast his masters's blood ; 
 
 Then onward rush'd, and as the foe drew near, 
 
 Above his hip he drove his fatal spear. 
 
 Without a groan, the swarthy hero fell, 
 
 Content in death to be revenged so well. 
 
 With certain Hni upon the blood-stained heath, 
 
 The Black King's Bishop wields the pointed death : 
 
 Pierced through the throat, the faithful Pion dies : 
 
 Beside his liiat^ter's corse supine he lies. 
 
 Kow fiercely springing to her Knight's third square, 
 
 The warrior Queen renews the fainting war; 
 
 Each hero's soul her martial ardor fires — 
 
 Her taunts inflame — her generous praise inspires. 
 
 Still his dire course the gloomy Bishop held. 
 
 By gathering hosts around him unrepelled ; 
 
 He marked, where towering at his station stood. 
 
 The W^hite Queen's Book, as yet unstained with blood, 
 
 He marked and slew ; with one resistless blow 
 
 He strikes to earth his unsuspecting foe. 
 
 Kow lightly springing o'er the spacious lawn. 
 
 The White King's Bishop slays a faithful Pawn. 
 
 Awed at the sight, the dusky King retires. 
 
 Laments his fate, yet still the deed admires. 
 
 The White Queen's Bishop seeks the gathering war. 
 
 And threats his sable consort from afar ; 
 
 But swiftly summon'd from the dusty field. 
 
 Her Knight presents his interposing shield ; 
 
 Impetuous Tasgar joins the attacking force. 
 
 And nimbly leaps with well-directed course. 
 
 To where the Koyal Pion once had stood, 
 
 Now pale in death and stiff with frozen blood. 
 
228 
 
 The black Queen's Pawn moves on in hopes, nnseen, 
 To shut the Bishop from his guarding Queen ; 
 But vain the attempt ! the watchful Queen attends, 
 Sidelong she springs, aud still the piece defends. 
 The Black Queen's Bishop darts between the foes, 
 Again perchance the captive to inclose ; 
 But warned before, the cautious foe retires. 
 And on the intruder turns his angry fires. 
 Its aiding spear the Black Knight's Pawn extends, 
 And the brave Bishop from the stroke defends. 
 Ill-judged defense I at one infuriate spring, 
 The vengeful Bishop threats the helpless King. 
 In vain from check with trembling steps he flies. 
 In vain for help sends unavailing cries ; 
 The White King's Bishop seals his hapless fate, 
 And all is ruin, horror, and check-mate ! 
 
 CAISSA'S CHALLENGE, 
 
 How precious time is sadly sorely, lost. 
 
 And restless sleepless nights, not half the cost, 
 
 Who now can check th' alluring, cunning plot ? 
 
 Oh ! who can patient bear th' encroaching blot ? 
 
 How can demented, senseless, witless wight, 
 
 In ivory idols find so much delight. 
 
 Death they are, to our brightest, social joys, 
 
 And conversation's never ceasing clogs. 
 
 The King and Queen and Knight, they ever move. 
 
 In one unvaried, never ending groove. 
 
 Such funny verses, I did haply find. 
 
 They are th' effusion of a morbid mind, 
 
229 
 
 Which would our pleasures through one sluggish 
 
 channel flow, 
 Sharp condemnation on another ill bestow. 
 To some, the merry, dizzy dance, is very wrong, 
 And others find the Preacher's sermon very long. 
 Who wants and tries all like himself to make, 
 Will ceaseless foi his folly sorely ache. 
 'Twere better far, to follow wisdom's course, 
 And leave each human mind, to its resource. 
 One rule of joy for all, who dares contrive, 
 Shall never, at his wished for end arrive. 
 
 THE SEXTON'S PICNIC. 
 I 
 
 A jolly Sexton turned a grin, 
 He said, he thought it was no sin. 
 For fish to have a double fin. 
 
 II 
 When next, I saw him passing by. 
 He had a lot of chicken pie ; 
 Of pork it was, and toughest rye. 
 
 Ill 
 He laid it all along a brook • 
 Near by, a rusty shepherd's crook ; 
 Upon a tree, a roguish rook. 
 
 IV 
 He stepped aside to get a cooling drink ; 
 The rook, he snapped the bread, with merry wink ; 
 The pork was swallowed by a hungry mink. 
 
230- — ■ 
 
 Y 
 
 Confession dire, 'twas in the camp ; 
 
 Tlie pack, it went witli yelling tramp ; 
 The Sexton had, but now no cramp, 
 
 YI 
 Th' exciting chase, it then began ; 
 At tramp he hurled tomato can ; 
 Far through the City panting ran. 
 
 YII 
 His foot, it struck the river bank; 
 At every gulp, he water drank, 
 The tramp likewise, fell into rank. 
 
 YIII 
 The Sexton caught him by the back. 
 And turning quick, he wrenchd the pack, 
 Then dealt his head a double whack. 
 
 IX 
 All weak and dripping wet, he reached the shore, 
 The Sexton and the tramp so very sore, 
 Of this adventure dread, just now no more. 
 
 X 
 The years rolled by, the Sexton died ; 
 At gasping breath, the tramp he spied 
 His pardon full, he ne'er denied. 
 
 XI 
 His bones, they quiet rest beneath a knoll, 
 His worthy deeds to light, they'll ne'er unroll 
 'Till' judgment will them show on dazzling scroll. 
 
231 
 
 THE SONGSTERS' STRUGGLE OR JEALOUSY. 
 
 Canary bird could sing a sweet and lovely song. 
 To very few of winged race, such notes belong. 
 For many months, the merry Songsters vainly strive, 
 And fruitless were, their futile efforts to arrive. 
 At hated rivals' faultless, matchless, winning grace ; 
 Their fearful anger passed beyond the bounds of space. 
 The sleepy owl, (a) he heard of their contention rare, 
 Drowsy, he said, he thought he could a moment spare. 
 Terrific, horrid blast, he hooted far and near, 
 In consternation now, the feathered tribes appear. 
 Then bravely came the thrush, their forces rallied he : 
 " Attentive hear, and victors ever shall we be.*' 
 He sang to th' admiration of th' assembled crowd, 
 Of him, his song, they justly were so very proud. 
 Canary then, in one continued, ceaseless flow, 
 Poured forth her mighty song of love, so high so low.— 
 Heard this, the gallant, heartless, rakish mocking bird; 
 The songs of all so aptly aped — 'twas so absured. 
 Canary flopped her wings, and sang a song so spry — 
 Be silent now ! you ugly, saucy bird, oh ! fie ! 
 
 (a) The owl liad been banished from the society of the birds. 
 
 ANGER. 
 
 A fearful man, I knew, his look severely cold, 
 His shrivelled, shrunken face, it looked so very old. 
 " Good Sir ! what may the matter, mighty trouble be? 
 Your roguish look, was once so full of joy and glee. 
 
232 
 
 He faintly gasped, and only, barely said : a cliic. 
 
 I wondered much and feared, how words so firm could stick. 
 
 Again, he frantic gasped, a Chica, merely said. 
 
 I thought the man was sick, and should be freely bled. 
 
 Chicago I thundering came, a paper have I here, 
 
 Saint Louis Village Post Dispatch, it would appear. 
 
 A Eeverend Sir has villified Chicago fair ; 
 
 Of it would make a roving shepherd's beastly lair. 
 
 I blame the man, who wrote the traders' bane (a) 
 
 And truly may imagine him to be insane. 
 
 These verses hap'ly from oblivion have been saved ; 
 
 They show how old Chicago, unrepentant, raved. 
 
 (a) See Saint Louis, The Future Great xxiii and xxiv. 16-25. 
 
 THE CUNNING PASTOR'S NEAT FAREWELL- 
 
 The brave and gallant 'Reilly said. 
 To Jerry Muley as he fled : 
 Fools madly, rashly, wicked go, 
 Where devils conquered, reverence shrw. 
 And me, you may not apprehend. 
 As countless dangers dire, impend. 
 Take my advise, 'twill serve thee well, 
 And free thee from delusion's spell. 
 Thy warrant surely hast forgot, 
 Th' absorbent paper, soaked the blot. 
 Now homeward take, thy merry course, 
 Dare not, thy silly threat enforce, 
 Next time, the shepherd bravely face, 
 With paper come, and watchman's mace. 
 
233 
 
 A LADY'S ANGER. 
 
 An inveterate Wag played off a nunqber of sly tricks oq a Land 
 lady ; but at last, her patieqce gave way, and though^ tlqe 
 incideqt below described was of but triflir^g irqport, still, 
 like tlqe last hair that broke the Cancel's back, it proved suffi- 
 cient to effectually rouse her wratlq. He had upset an erqpty 
 salt-cellar, 
 
 The eye in anger flashed, 
 
 The cups, they headlong crashed. 
 
 .V tiny foot it stamped, 
 
 The body all, it cramped. 
 
 In trembling wonder, I, 
 
 Uprising sought to fly. 
 
 She haughty, sternly said: 
 
 Your thoughts, I've often read ; 
 
 But why the cellar salt, 
 
 Without upsetting fault, 
 
 You have so oft upturned, 
 
 Was what I angry spurned. 
 
 Shun then a Lady's wrath ; 
 
 Pursue a safer path. 
 
 When salt again you need, 
 
 Let words your want precede. 
 
 Do check your anger's force, 
 
 A joke I meant, of course. 
 
 The angry eye still there, 
 
 I promised future care. 
 
 My ways, I vowed, I'd mend; 
 
 Now lips, in smiles, unbend, (a) 
 
 Yet scarce a word was said ; 
 
 But anger's voice, it sped. 
 
234 
 
 Her wounded soul's reproof, 
 Made Lady keep aloof. 
 The eye in anger plays ; 
 The voice, the truth, it says. 
 Now reconciled, I state, 
 No more, can I relate. 
 
 (a) Anger contracts and tightens the Jips ; pleasure lessens 
 and expands them. 
 
 SIGH NOT. 
 I 
 
 Oh ! sigh no more, 
 
 Conceal no sore, 
 
 In sinful core. 
 
 This were corruption's fires, 
 
 To kindle fierce, with sin's desires. 
 
 II 
 When body sighs, 
 The soul replies, 
 In anguish lies. 
 
 These friends, in sorrows meet, 
 Their closest union most complete, 
 
 III 
 Now free the soul, 
 Then it console. 
 The body whole. 
 The restless mind in peace. 
 The sluggish body's joys increase. 
 
 ly 
 
 God's goodness seek. 
 
^ — 235— 
 
 With tears the cheek, 
 
 To God they speak. 
 
 The weeping soul in tears, 
 
 -Forgiveness gracious, soon appears. 
 
 Y 
 A sin is formed, 
 The soul deformed, 
 To sin conformed, (a) 
 Pure soul, its image fair. 
 For virtue all, should e'er declare. 
 
 Vi 
 
 Then sin avoid, 
 
 Of good devoid. 
 
 By wrong decoyed, 
 
 Bost fear the serpent's bite V 
 
 Sin murderous shun, in hasty flight. 
 
 YII 
 Sweet pleasure's way. 
 Leads all astray, 
 Through night and day. 
 But pleasure's saddest end. 
 Just fear, may ever well expend. 
 
 yiii 
 
 ^ow cea3e to sigh, 
 
 We virtue try. 
 
 To God we fly. 
 
 To Him, we instant go. 
 
 Whose saving grace, so well we know* 
 
 IX 
 Our labors cease. 
 Our joys increase, 
 
236 
 
 In virtue's peace. 
 
 True virtue's solid ways, 
 
 Coniplete the faithful Christian's days. 
 
 X 
 In God, we hope, 
 Sweet joys, they ope. 
 In boundless scope. 
 In God for ever hope. 
 Then virtue's gates, we easy ope. 
 
 {a) See.Tom Hood. 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH. 
 
 You wish a King to die and scourge him sore, 
 You give him but a day, an hour, no more. 
 
 J. Kacike. 
 The wicked sought a God-like birth. 
 
 Adored, I saw him on the earth. 
 Aloft he proudly raised his head, 
 Then him before, the thunder fled. 
 The heav'ns on high were his abode, 
 His humbled foes, he overrode. 
 I passed along his glory's place so nigh, 
 His glory ; him no longer could I spy. 
 
 J. Kacine. 
 
 A TABLEAU. 
 
 Unwonted softness was by labor overcome 
 
 These weighty words her tongue in fagging mouth make 
 
 mum. 
 Her speech then drooped, it was an effort far too great, 
 
 A sigh ; down dropped limp arm, eye closed, its sleepy 
 
 mate. Boileau. 
 
237 
 
 WAR HASH OF 1861. 
 
 A matron had a shoe, 
 Porbeef or mut ten stew. 
 The boarders found it tough ; 
 Said slie in manner gruff. 
 Of calfskin was it made, 
 By board bills grudging paid. 
 The calf is fond of grass ; 
 Of hay, the silly ass. 
 Does not shoe leather suit, 
 The arrant raw recruit ? 
 And v/hy should I refrain, 
 My living thus to gain ? 
 A month, or weekly stay. 
 Board bill be sure to pay. 
 And they who honest live. 
 May paltry rogues outlive. 
 
 HAIR RESTORATIVE. 
 
 The hairless scalp does funny show, 
 
 A single hair, as white as snow. 
 
 Use Wurmb's Translucent Brush awhile, 
 
 You'll then receive the lover's smile. 
 
 This Brush on wooden leg was tried. 
 
 Full foTt J feet were soon descried. 
 
 The hair, it never stopped to grow. 
 
 As very many truly knov/. 
 
 Kear Water Tower this Brush is seen, 
 
 In winter and the rains between. 
 
At sight of Brush, a lady's hair impTO\res^ 
 This her unbounded admiration moves. 
 Let soap Castillian cleanse the lathered pate^ 
 Then this Translucent Brush, will hair create. 
 
 A WICKED, LEERING LOOK, 
 
 The wicked, vicious fool, 
 The devil's pliant tool. 
 Trom his corrupted mind. 
 Flows vice of ev'ry kind. 
 In others vice can sec, 
 From which, in him, they flee* 
 The raging fires of hell, 
 Enslave him in their spell. 
 His shameless, burning soul^ 
 Kew victims does enroll. 
 For them, for him, in fine^ 
 Who can the woes opine ^ 
 
 HOME DISCOMFORTS, 
 
 The milk is sour ! oh ! who his anger can contain ? 
 Could not the careless maid the acid's growth restrain? 
 Of goodly ice, have I a frozen ocean's tide, 
 Upon whose did once a gallant vessel ride. 
 But thrown away is toil upon a lazy race, 
 Who worthless, heedless, fairest lovely works deface. 
 The bread is very sour ! to crown misfortunes' throng' 
 From here to there, to Bot'ny Bay, and all along. 
 
239 
 
 'Tis t' hateful story of a wicked age's scourge, 
 Which does, from all the duties of the house, emerge. 
 The meretricious soul loves not her humble home. 
 To other houses far, she never fails to roam. 
 This is to deal destruction's, foullest, fellest blow. 
 To all that God, and man, and child, love here below\ 
 
 AN ENIGMA. 
 
 As I was crossing London Bridge, 
 
 A weeping boy I met, 
 
 I asked him why he wept. 
 
 Poor mother on a barren ridge, 
 
 In sutf 'rings slowly dyed. 
 
 For this, I sadly cried, 
 
 Before my birth on London Bridge. 
 
 ' Answer : His mother dyed clothes ; he was not horn on London 
 Bridge. 
 
 DUST. 
 
 Dust falls through roofs. Against all proofs, 
 
 Of solid slate. Of golden plate. 
 
 Of yellow thatch. Without a patch, 
 
 Through pine or oak. Through fire, or smoke, 
 
 It finds its way ; Now over hay, 
 
 Then under crates. Or massive gates. 
 
 Bright eyes it fills, Swift passes mills 
 
 All through, without A stop at spout, 
 
 A mark or trace. To find its place. 
 
 Of dust enough, ISTo further puff 
 
 Of hazy stuff. 
 
240 
 
 ACROSTICS. 
 
 May all the flowers of early Spring, 
 And all the harmless joys they bring 
 Restore to sickly, pallid cheeks ; 
 Youth's crimson hue, that health bespeaks. 
 
 May all my joys on God be spent, 
 And from my soul, all sin be rent. 
 Eest e'er from sin, and all its way, 
 Yield love to God, and his sweet sway. 
 
 Mind matchless Mother Mary more, 
 And ev'ry action higher soar. 
 Kemember her unflinching grace, 
 Yield not thy soul to anger's place. 
 
 May sou] -like beauty be thy crown, 
 In maiden virtues' fair renown. 
 Supremely shun the sinner's ways ; 
 Strive hard, 'tis virtue that repays. 
 
 Contrive thy actions all, to guide, 
 
 On sterling virtues' safest side. 
 
 Eepel sleek vice's first advance, 
 
 taught else can save from sin's mischance. 
 
 Each virtue has a special mark, 
 
 To this canst fly, as safety's ark. 
 
 THE TRUMPET'S BLAST. 
 
 Loud sounds the trumpet's shrillest blast, 
 On hill and mountain top, the last 
 Mce nestles in an open ear, 
 
241 
 
 Goes faster than the swiftest spear, 
 Meanders through the crooked vale, 
 Alights on tempest's dreadest trail, 
 .taught fears on lofty Ocean's sail. 
 MUTUAL admiratio:n^. 
 Indulgent, laughing, praised the Critic's trenchant wit, 
 Declared she never saw, a phrase so nicely fit ; 
 Yes, truly thought he was, by far, the wisest man, 
 Led he the stanchest leaders of the dauntless van. 
 Left out, naught worth is groping sage's wisest plan. 
 
 ADVICE. 
 
 Brand not the budding, youthful mind's impress, 
 Or soon you may the vital spark suppress — 
 I*^eglect's advancing age's sore distress. 
 Amid the mashers of the Future Great, 
 Mash modest maiden's madcap merry mata, 
 Incensed, indeed, indignant, I inflate. 
 
 WISDOM. 
 
 Secure, she rested on the rocky shore. 
 
 On beauty's thoughts intent, forevermore. 
 
 Perhaps she dreamt of a far distant home. 
 
 Her thoughts reversed, through childhood's scenes they 
 
 roam, 
 Into the gay recesses of the mind, 
 Each beauty's thought, the gayest of its kind. 
 
 AGRICULTURAL. 
 
 Corn crops, this year, are most surprising good, 
 On land just cleared from thickest hazel wood. 
 Leaves are sometimes protection needed sure, 
 
242 
 
 March winds may yet demand a rich manure. 
 And April's most unsteady, coolest days, 
 ^N'aught that a lingering frost so cruel slays, 
 Succeed by destruction's slow delays. 
 Repelling noxious weeds' destructive sway, 
 Unless you idle pass the days of May. 
 Rejecting June's seductive, many calls, 
 And steering clear of sluggard's lazy falls, 
 Leave not your mind on aught that sin enthralls. 
 Win wisdom's most august and happy smile. 
 Or a September's witching wealth compile, 
 Refresh your mind in gay October's hue. 
 Leave not the friends, in youth so well you knew, 
 December's joys, November's youth renew. 
 
 THE FOX. 
 
 AN ACROSTIC. 
 
 Sly hungry fox, on game intent. 
 Endowed with sharpest wits' extent, 
 Deterred from farmer's snug abode. 
 Again, he sought another road. 
 Love's labor lost, he sadly found. 
 Inclosed the grapes, a wall around ; 
 All sour, he said, his teeth he ground. 
 
 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 Go to most happy friend's abode, 
 Advance along the flow'ry road. 
 
243 
 
 Inspect the riches of the place, 
 ^ote rosy hue, on ev'ry face. 
 Entranced, sojourn, improve you may, 
 Secure in health's imparting ray. 
 View now, Old Crockett's lonely star, 
 In conflict fierce, naught on a par, 
 Learn Heroes' deeds in battles far, 
 Leave warlike works, for peace's way, 
 Escape from blood's detested sw^ay. 
 
 BURLESQUES. 
 
 WALNUT, HOG, RANCH, 
 
 BY JUVENIS. 
 I 
 
 The Eanche it stunted. 
 The Hog he grunted, 
 Him Walnut hunted. 
 Decided grand burlesque, 
 The actors so grotesque. 
 But still in pleasure's mask, 
 
 They sure may gaily bask. 
 
 . i[ 
 The Walnut was green, 
 The Eanch in its sheen, 
 The Hog eat a bean. 
 The Hog, the Walnut's branch, 
 Quick struck him on the haunch (a) 
 The hog in angush squeeled, 
 
 The Hog his hide was peeled. 
 
 Ill 
 The Kanch near black haw, 
 The light it ne'er saw, 
 
244: — - 
 
 Heard raven's dull caw. 
 
 The Eanch, with wisdom's dearth, 
 
 80 near the dankest earth, 
 
 A dreary gloom possessed, 
 
 Devoid of cheer, or re&t. 
 
 IV 
 
 The Hog in Hunger, 
 'Twas sure no wonder, 
 The crib from under ; 
 The Hog, the Walnuts ripe. 
 He ate like sweetest tripe ; 
 His hill^ he left to snipe, 
 Ke'er used it for a pipe. 
 
 V 
 
 The Kanch now failing, 
 
 The wind prevailing. 
 
 The Walnut quailing. 
 
 The wind shook Walnut's house, 
 
 It had no rat, no mouse. 
 
 The bread, it was no where, 
 
 But much there was of air. 
 
 V[ 
 
 The Hog, he grunted, 
 The Ranch it stunted, 
 The slough, it fronted. 
 The master hungry came, 
 The Hog, so very tame, 
 The Hog gave up the ghost. 
 So lean, too thin for roast. 
 
 Walnut is represented as a tree, or as a person. This adds to 
 the heauty of the Burlesque. I do not know whether Walnut 
 ever owned a hog, or a ranch, hut for aught that concerns the Bur- 
 lesque, it is a matter of indifference. 
 
245 
 
 In burlesque, a freedom of thought is tolerated, that would be 
 out of place in auy other species of composition. The passage, 
 from the shorter to the longer lines, is very pleasing to the poetic 
 ear. There is a difference of only one syllable. A writer in Col- 
 man's Rural world, over the pseudonym of W.xlnut, unquali- 
 tiedly, condemned but did not criticize the poetry of Juvenis, (Rev. 
 Geo. a. Watson.) (a) See Hudibras. 
 
 A TERRIFIC STRUGGLE, 
 
 Far famed old drowsy Baden saw another sight, 
 The game cocks herce engaged in most terrific fight, 
 From North to South, from East to West, gay wagons came ; 
 To near the struggling Heroes, their most anxious aim. 
 In terror dashed the yellow dogs, with surging crowds ; 
 Dust, feathers red, commingled with the muiky clouds. 
 Make wag ! Edina's conquering hero rooster comes : 
 The victor's crown bestow ; mid roar of fifes and drums. 
 The wool, it does not fly, but feathers red and black ; 
 Edina wins the day ; the strongest birds fall back. 
 Commotion fiercest was the order of the day ; 
 To what excesses it might lead, no man could say. 
 Th' ungoured stifling dust, it flew through alleys quaint ; 
 Through muddy streets and highways grand, without res- 
 traint. 
 The men of Baden fiercely view the reeking scenes ; 
 The chickens savory limbs now fill soup tureens. 
 Most doleful dirges of the lonely Whip-poor- Will, 
 Old Baden lull to sweet repose, on feathery hill. 
 So long they slept, the shining grass, it slowly grew, 
 Above the houses' chimney tops, so very few. 
 At greatest length five feet, long inches three, or more. 
 Marines veracious say, that this was just the score. 
 
THE BONY HORSE. 
 
 In famous old Saint Louis Town, 
 
 A bony horse he had, a clown. 
 
 His skin, it overlapped in double folds. 
 
 Like iron makers queerest looking molds. 
 
 His skin, it grew around the bones ; 
 
 Of it, the owner made his straps and hones. 
 
 The tail, so hard it steady grew. 
 
 From it tlie crow bars broken flew. 
 
 The ears in horny strength increased ; 
 
 The ram, his horns were much decreased. 
 
 His backbone struck a Mississippi boat. 
 
 In fragments soon to shore, we saw it float. 
 
 The ribs were molded into solid ore. 
 
 And placed by Saddick boy, behind, before, 
 
 The hardest iron Filley's toughest door. 
 
 These doors, ten years have never moved, 
 
 And this, grim Swallow swears 'tis proved. 
 
 The Saddick boy, discharged he left, 
 
 Of hope, in skin and bones, bereft. 
 
 The plainer, nailer. Door Sill cute. 
 
 The story thought, he'd safely hoot. 
 
 The head in hickory color true, 
 
 He strove in mallet form to hew. 
 
 His ax, it broke, and handle too, 
 
 His toughest teeth in pieces flew ; 
 
 His Sunday hat, no shape it knew. 
 
 His legs were twisted through a double door, 
 
 But stopped when they had reached the second floor. 
 
 Old Goblins heard the wond'rous tale, 
 
 And could for every fact, go bail. 
 
247 
 
 A single hair, lie said, he slyly got, 
 
 Around a cable tied a double knot. 
 
 Eive hundred miles and more, it was in length, 
 
 And double twice ten thousand men in strength. 
 
 To shore the cable quickly came, 
 
 The hair, its strength the very same. 
 
 Four hundred thousand pounds was cable's weight, 
 
 In truth unvarnished, this I merely state 
 
 POETRY AND HISTORY, 
 
 Astutest Friend ! I never thought you w^eresogreata wag, 
 
 To try a Lecture prehistoric, through all ages lag. 
 
 And speaks without, its most transcendent beauties clear- 
 ly see. 
 
 And noble truth enslaved, from fickle, haughty error, free. 
 
 In latent fun you much abound : its source, we scarce can 
 trace, 
 
 Aladdin's lamp, in brightness, you so easy can replace. 
 
 Delusions' grimmest phiz-historic, would you rashly dare? 
 
 With this, the rankest, rampant folly,who can just compare. 
 
 De Soto had a dread, exciting, most terrific dream ; 
 
 He said, he thought, he surely heard the moving parch- 
 ments scream. 
 
 Awake, he plainly saw the ecrolls historic, wildly float, 
 
 O'er Castle frowning, quaintest draw bridge, and its deep- 
 est moat. 
 
 This queer, complex delusion, is it not historic true ? 
 
 Perhaps it was poetic, as it steady, shapely grew. 
 
 The brightest, shining, most impressive truths, you vainly 
 strive. 
 
248 
 
 To firm impress, on those who live, in dull, historic hive. 
 'Twere nobler far, the Poet's truth imparting lays to grace, 
 You'd then be useful to yourself, and all the human race. 
 Take this most kind advice, 'twill ever, always, serve you 
 
 well. 
 And free you from delusions' most historic, galling spell. 
 
 THE FAMOUS FISHERS. 
 
 A St. Louisiaq, Wit^ a f^/lilwaukee Frieqd, Weqt a FisF\iqg With[ 
 the Following Result; 
 
 Two fishers famous crept along a muddy, unfrequented 
 shore, 
 
 The startled, timid fish, they fled the fishers famous far 
 before. 
 
 Began the race at Ferry Street, New Market passed. Ca- 
 thedral Square ; 
 
 Between the Fishers and the flsh, two miles, just that, 
 naught more to spare. 
 
 Milwaukee slyly said : the fish to Cairo hot may speed their 
 course. 
 
 Left we exposed to piquant, most sarcastic jeers, without 
 resource. 
 
 Our steps discreet retrace, at Union Market, is the finny 
 prize. 
 
 The steel for silver hooks, we'll change, and fishes draw of 
 rarest size. 
 
 No sooner said, than neatly done. The luscious fish from 
 river shore. 
 
 All viewed. Admiring friends their beauty praised, de- 
 licious flavor more. 
 
249 
 
 A WONDERFUL CAT. 
 
 Miss Amarilla (a) had a cat, 
 
 Tobacco chewed, and hissing spat. (6) 
 
 White sand it swallowed, with a gulp, 
 
 Quick changed it was, to apple pulp. 
 
 It sewed itself a cosy cap ; 
 
 It over rolled and took a nap. 
 
 Am'rilla caught it fast asleep ; 
 
 She water dashed, it took a leap, 
 
 And up the blazing chimney rapid flew ; 
 
 When down it came,— 'twas nicest mutton stew. 
 
 Two weeks, two days. Miss Amarilla wept ; 
 
 Eatigued, in deep repose She hissing (c) kept. 
 
 (a) A name taken at random. 
 
 (&) Thislineis very obscure. It may possibly mean: that 
 Miss Amarilla did the chewing; the cat, the spitting. See Mother 
 Hubbard. 
 
 (c) She smoked. 
 
THE QUALITIES AND RULES OF POETRY. 
 
 COMPrj:.ED FROM VARIOUS SOURCES. 
 
 EEY. GEO. A. WATSO]^^. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 As many persons have imperfect and incorrect ideas 
 and whimsical notions about Poetry, and as the sources 
 of information on this subject are extremely meager, and 
 within the reach only of comparatively few persons, I 
 flatter myself, that I shall render the general public an 
 acceptable service, by presenting, in as succinct a form as 
 possible, preliminary notions in regard to Poetry, and the 
 laws by which it is governed in its formation and rendi- 
 tion. 
 
 As from words. Poetry forms its tools, or feet, we 
 must necessarily understand the formation of these feet, 
 and their proper position in the line, in order that they 
 may harmoniously move together, and thus succeed in 
 producing the desired result, in the cultivation andamuse^ 
 ment of man's esthetic faculties, that enable him to per- 
 ceive and appreciate beauty and delicacy of thought, and 
 felicity in the use and manipulation of the means, adapt- 
 ed to imprint poetic impressions on the intelligent, plastic 
 soul. The partial, or total absence of this elementary 
 knowledge, is the reason why so many would-be critics 
 utter such crude absurdities on this subject, and rather 
 make a display of their own supreme, ineffable ignorance, 
 than of tlie deficiencies and short comings of the Authors, 
 whom they so ignorantly attempt to criticise. Author. 
 
We begin with the preliminary notions and partial 
 definitions, as no adequate definition of Poetry can possi- 
 bly be given. 
 
 Poetry is imaginative composition, w^hether in prose 
 or verse. Poetry is passion and imagination em^bodying 
 themselves in words^ . Poetry is strictly the language of 
 the imagination ; and the imagination is that faculty, 
 which represents objects, not as they are in themselves, 
 but as they are molded by other thoughts and feelings 
 into infinite variety of shapes and combinations of power. 
 This language is not the less true to nature, because it is false 
 in point of fact; but so much the more true and natural, if 
 it conveys the impression which the object under the in- 
 fluence of passion makes on the mind. 
 
 Sir Joshua Eeynolds remarks, that the very existence 
 of poetry depends on the licence it assumes of deviating 
 from nature. It sets out with a language in the highest 
 degree artificial ; a construction of measured words, which 
 is a deviation from common language, and such artificial 
 composition should be presented to the mind in a tone 
 different from that of conversation. When this artificial 
 mode has been established as the vehicle of sentiment, it 
 is required that the sentiments should be in the same pro- 
 portion elevated above common nature'^ . 
 
 The art of poetry is an imitative art ; but illusion is 
 not its province. The imitative power of art' consists in 
 producing results resembling, but not identical with those 
 created by natural objects, or by human passion, character 
 and action. The metre too, in poetry, preserves this es- 
 sence of art by operating as a constant barrier against any 
 
approach to reality, at tlie same time that it acts as a pow- 
 erful auxiliary to the sense. Poetjy is the only art that 
 employs words for its instruments. Good poetry creates, 
 or re-embodies the impressions, which the poet has im- 
 bibed into his own mind by observation. This faculty of 
 producing from such elements the impression of individ- 
 ual character, action, or scenery, is the power which we 
 generally term imagination^ . 
 
 One of the chief traits of the poetical is, that it pe- 
 culiarly affects the imagination and the feelings. A com- 
 mon idea, the result of experience, or simple reasoning, 
 may be conceived, and accordingly expressed by the poet, 
 in such a way as to strike our feelings with peculiar force. 
 A great pare of poetry, in fact, consists in a striking ex- 
 pression of common ideas, because it is impossible that a 
 poet should always have new ideas. N^arrative poetry, 
 and Epic poetry, which presents actions as happening, 
 while the poet himself is entirely kept out of view, are of 
 this class^ . The essence of poetry consists in imitation, 
 words are its instruments^ . The Greeks designated poetry 
 as the artistic productions of the imagination, expressed 
 in language^ . In proportion as men know more, and 
 think more, they look less at individuals and more at 
 classes. They therefore make better theories and worse 
 poems. They give us vague phrases instead of images^ and 
 personified qualities instead of men. They may be better 
 able to analyze human nature than their predecessors; 
 but analysis is not the business of the poet. His office is 
 to portray, not to dissect. 
 
 By poetry we mean, the art of employing words in 
 such a manner as to produce an illusion on the imagina- 
 
254 
 
 tion : the art of doing by means of words, what thepaint- 
 f^r does by means of colors. 
 
 '' As imagination bodies forth, 
 
 The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
 
 Turns them to shapes, and gives the airy nothing, 
 
 A local habitation and a name." 
 Truth, indeed, is essential to poetry ; but it is the 
 truth of madness. The reasonings are just, but the prem- 
 ises are false. In an enlightened age there will be much 
 intelligence, but little poetry ; as men will judge and com- 
 pare, but they will not create. Poetry produces an illu- 
 sion on the eye of the mind. The business of poetry is 
 with images, and not with words. 
 
 The poet uses words indeed: but they are merely the 
 instruments of his art, not its objects. They are the ma- 
 terials which he is to dispose in such a manner as to pres- 
 ent a picture to the mental eye. And if they are not so 
 disposed, they are no more entitled to be called poetry, 
 than a bale of canvas and a box of colors are to be called 
 a painting^ . It will be further useful to define what is 
 meant by Invention. Invention is the process of evolving 
 thought in connection with any particular subject'^. In- 
 vention is the exercise of the imagination in contriving 
 the arrangement of a piece, or the method of presenting 
 its parts! . 
 
 Doctor Carey maintains, that poetic composition is 
 an aid to the nicer and more correct writing of prose, on 
 account of the varied mental exercises, through which the 
 mind must pass, in pursuit and attainment of this object. 
 
 What Lord Kames has so well said on the subject of 
 
—255 
 
 poetry, must now engage our undivided attention. I have 
 condensed what he has said, and endeavored to present 
 his rules, remarks and suggestions, without any injury to 
 the perspicuity and usefuhiess of the Original. 1. Verse 
 to be correct, must be invested with the five following 
 conditions. 1st. The number of feet that compose a verse 
 line. 2d. The different lengths of syllables, that is, the 
 difference of time in pronouncing. 3d. The arrangement 
 of these syllables combined in words. 4th. The pauses or 
 stops in pronouncing. 5th. The pronouncing syllables in 
 a high or low tone. 
 
 2. The three first are obviously essential to verse ; if 
 any of them be wanting, there cannot be that higher de- 
 gree of melody, which distinguishes verse from prose. To 
 give a just idea of the fourth, it must be observed, that 
 pauses are necessary for three different purposes : One 
 to separate periods and members of the same period, ac- 
 cording to the sense ; another to improve the melody of 
 the verse ; and the last to afford time for breathing. A 
 pause of the first kind is variable. A pause of the second 
 kind, being determined by the melody, is in no degree ar- 
 bitrary. The last is in a measure arbitrary, depending on 
 the reader's command of breath. 
 
 3. With respect then to the pauses of sense and mel- 
 ody, it maybe affirmed without hesitation, that their coin- 
 cidence in verse is a capital beauty, but this coincidence is 
 not always possible. With regard to quantity, one remark 
 will suffice : two short syllables with respect to time are 
 equal to one long syllable, and this is applicable to every 
 species of verse. 
 
 4. We come now to Engliish heroic verse, which 
 
256 
 
 shall be examined under the whole live heads of number, 
 qualit}^, arrangement, pause and accent. This verse is of two 
 kinds; one named rhyme, or metre, and one named blank 
 verse. Beginning with rhyme every line consists of ten 
 syllables, five short and five long, and two lines so con- 
 nected are termed a couplet. To this there are two ex- 
 ceptions. The first when an additional syllable is added 
 to each line of the couplet : 
 
 The piece you think is incorrect? Why, take it, 
 I'm all submission ; what you'd have it, make it. 
 This may pass in a single couplet, but if frequent, it 
 would disgust. The other exception is an Alexandrine of 
 twelve syllables, in the second line of a couplet, where 
 pomp and solemnity are admissible. As to quantity, 
 monasyllables in theory, are either long or short ; but if 
 the less significant word is made long, the verse is render- 
 ed harsh : 
 
 Faint ivas \\ the aiv— Evangeline, Longfellow. 
 Thrice she \\ looked back || and thrice || the foe |j drew near || 
 
 Pope, The Rape of the Lock. 
 Should look II him in || the face || and ask || in wrath ||, 
 
 In the above line make in long, then note how it mars 
 the line. 
 
 5. False quantity has a very bad effect in verse. Ihe 
 ought to be always short : Observe how harsh it makes a 
 line, where it must be pronounced long : 
 
 This nymph || to the || destruction of || mankind ||. 
 
 Let it be pronounced short, it reduces the melody to 
 almost nothing. It is better so to pronounce it, than to 
 have false quantity. In the following examples we per- 
 ceive the same defect : 
 
-257—- 
 
 And old]] impertinence || expel |1 by new |1 
 With varying vanities |j from ev'ry part. 
 
 With regard to pauses we note the following facts: 
 1st. A line admits but one capital pause. 2d. Indifferent 
 lines, we find this pause after the fourth syllable, after 
 the fifth syllable, after the sixth, and after the seventh. 
 This divides heroic lines into four kinds. Each kind or 
 order has a melody peculiar to itself, readily distin- 
 guishable by a good ear. The pause, however, cannot be 
 indifferently made at any of the places named, it is the 
 sense that regulates the pause, and this determines of 
 what order each line must be, There can be but one cap- 
 ital musical pause in a line, and that pause ought to coin- 
 cide, if possible, with a pause in the sense, in order that 
 the sound may accord with the sense. 
 
 After the 4th syllable : 
 Back through the paths || of pleasing sense I ran. 
 
 After the 5th syllable ; 
 
 So when an angel |j by divine command. 
 
 After the 6th syllable : 
 
 Then from his closing eyes || thy form shall part. 
 
 After the 7th syllable. 
 And taught the doubtful battle f| where to rage. 
 
 Besides the capital pause, there are generally two mi- 
 nor pauses in each line : One before the capital pause, and 
 one after it. The former comes immediately after the 
 first long syllable ; the other, like the capital pause, varies, 
 
 1st and 8th Led I through a sad n variety I of woe. 
 1st and 7th Still II on thy breast || enamored I let me lie. 
 2d and 8th From storms | a shelter II and from heati ashade. 
 2d and 6th Let wealth! let honor il wait| the wedded dame. 
 2nd and 7th Abovej allpainll all passion|| and all pride. 
 
 The proper place of the semi-pause with respect to 
 
. 2n8 
 
 melody, is after the eighth syllable, so as to finish the line 
 with an lambns distinctly pronounced. A full pause 
 must never divide a word : A noble super i fluity it craves. 
 Abhor, a perpeltuity should stand. Are these lines 
 distinguishable from prose ? Scarcely, I think. The same 
 rule is not applicable to a semi-pause, which being short 
 and faint, is not sensibly disagreeable when it divides a 
 word : 
 
 Helen tless waUs I whose round contains. 
 
 There may be a pause in the melody where the sense 
 requires none. A metrical pause cannot be placed indiff- 
 erently after any word. A substantive may not be sepa- 
 rated from its article. The following line cannot be read 
 as marked : 
 
 If Delia smile, the I flowers hegin to spring. 
 
 It ought to be: 
 
 If Delia smile || the flowers begin to spring. 
 
 To properly determine the place of the pause, we must 
 observe that certain words cannot be separated. In the 
 natural order, the adjective must precede its substantive, 
 and therefore, no pause can take place immediately 
 ^ after the adjective. The following and all such lines are 
 objectionable : 
 
 Of thousand bright || inhabitants of air- 
 Haste to the fierce || Achilles tent, he cries. 
 
 In the inverse order, the pause may come immediately 
 after the substantive : 
 
 For the fates severely kind ordain. 
 
 In the direct order, the verb and adverb must not be 
 separated : 
 
 And which it much 1| becomes you to forget. 
 
 In the in verse order, the pause may come immedi- 
 ately after the verb : 
 
259 
 
 No matter, Guorge continues |1 still to write. 
 
 In the invej se order, no pause can take place between 
 the verb and an active substantive. An active verb can 
 be separated from the thing on which it acts : 
 
 Should, chance to make|| the well dressed rahble stare^ 
 
 In the inverse order, when the pass.ive substantive is 
 first named, a pause ui-dj take place immediately after it : 
 
 As soon as thy letters |j trembling I unclose. 
 
 Words connected by conjunctions and prepositions, 
 admit freely a pause between them, as : 
 
 Assume what sexes || and what shapes they please. 
 
 IsTo immediate separation or pause ought to take place 
 after particles, that taken separately, have no meaning : 
 When victims at|| your altar's foot, we lay. 
 
 The capital pause may be placed on victims || and the 
 semi-pause on foot||. In the first line of a couplet, the 
 concluding pause differs little, if at all, from the pause 
 that divides the line ; and for that reason, the rules are 
 applicable to both equally. A couplet ought always to be 
 finished with some close in the verse ; if not a point, at 
 least a comma. This rule is seldom transgressed. 
 
 6. The sense must never be wounded or obscured by 
 the music : 
 
 Who rising, high || th' imperial sceptre raised. 
 
 When two words or two members of a sentence, in 
 their natural order, can be separated by a pause, such sep- 
 aration can never be amiss in an inverted order. The 
 nature of an inverted period requires a pause, that the 
 parts may be distinctly known, as : 
 
 With words like these || the troops Ulysses ruled. 
 
 The same holds good where the separation is made at 
 the close of the couplet : 
 
260 
 
 For spirits freed from mortal laws, with ease 
 Assume what sexes || and what shapes I they please. 
 
 A number of uniform lines having all the same pause, 
 are extremely fatiguing, and in a long poem, intolerable. 
 When resembling objects are expressed in a plurality of 
 verses ; these lines in their structure ought to be as uni- 
 form as possible ; and the pauses in particular ought all 
 of them to have the same place, as : 
 
 Bright as the sun || her eyes the gazers strike ; 
 And like the sun || they shine on all alike 
 
 In heroic English verse the capital pause ought to 
 come after the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, or the seventh 
 syllable. I admit that this rule may be varied, when the 
 sense or expression requires a variation. In such cases, 
 the capital pause may come after the first, the second, or 
 the third syllable. 
 
 And over them triumphant death his dart 
 Shook II hut delayed to strike. 
 From his slack hand the garland wreath for Eve 
 Down dropped || and all the faded roses shed. 
 
 From Milton. 
 
 7. Accent contributes to the melody by giving air 
 and spirit ; and emphasis, by distinguishing important 
 words. The emphasis cannot be laid on a low or insig- 
 nificant word, without burlesquing it. There are two 
 principal Emphases; one, that is immediately before the 
 capital pause, and one that is divided from the pause by a 
 short syllable. The former belongs to lines of the first and 
 third order ; the latter to those of the second and the 
 fourth. 
 
 Of the first kind : 
 
 Smooth flow the waves || the zephyrs gently play, 
 Belinda smiled 1| and all the world was gay, 
 
261 
 
 He raised his azure wand || and thus began. 
 
 Examples of the other kind : 
 
 There lay three garters || half a pair of gloves. 
 And hew triumphant arches I to the ground 
 
 These accents (Emphases or Pauses) make different 
 impressions on the mind, which will come np again for 
 discussion. The following shows the bad effect of exclu- 
 ding the capital Emphases, or Pause. 
 
 No pardon vile || obscenity should find. 
 
 When the fault is at the end of a line that closes a 
 couplet, it leaves not the slightest trace of melody : 
 
 But of this fame, the bearings and the ties, 
 The strong connections, nice dependencies I. 
 
 In a line expressive of what is humble or dejected, the 
 capital Emphasis is excluded with advantage 
 
 In these deep solitudes || and awful cells, 
 The poor inhabitant beholds in vain. 
 
 Some lines may have five Emphases ; others, not more 
 than one. 
 
 As it often happens in poetical composition, the first 
 
 order appears to be proper for a sentiment that is bold, 
 
 lively, or impetuous ; the third is proper for what is grave, 
 
 solemn or lofty ; the second for what is tender, delicate or 
 
 melancholy, and in general for all sympathetic emotions ; 
 
 and the last for subjects of the same kind, when tempered 
 
 with any degree of solemnity. The use and effect of these 
 
 orders are illustrated by extracts from Pope's Kape of the 
 
 Lock. 
 
 First Order. 
 
 On her white breast || a sparkling cross she wore, 
 
 Which Jews might kiss || and infidels adore. 
 
 Second Order. 
 
 Our humble province || is to tend the f a^ 
 
262 
 
 Kot a less pleasing f] though less glorious care. 
 Third Order : 
 
 To fifty chosen Sylphs n of special note. 
 
 A plurality of lines of the fourth order would not have 
 a good effect in succession ; because by a remarkable ten- 
 dency to rest, their proper office is to close a period, it is, 
 therefore, mixed with other orders. 
 Fourth Order. 
 
 steel could the works n of mortal pride confound, 
 And hew triumphant arches n to the ground. 
 
 8. We now proceed to Blank Yerse, which rejects 
 rhyme, and gives freer scope to the flights of the imagina- 
 tion. Our verse is extremely cramped by rhyme. E-hyme 
 necessarily divides heroic verse into couplets; Each 
 couplet is a complete musical period, the parts of 
 which are divided by pauses, and the whole summed up 
 by a full close at the end. The melody begins anew with 
 the next couplet, and in this manner a composition in 
 rhyme proceeds couplet after couplet. Strictly speaking, 
 the sense and the melody ought to close with the couplet. 
 But as such strictness of composition would be extremely 
 difficult, licenses are granted. There ought to be some 
 pause in the sense at the end of every couplet ; but a full 
 close in the sense ought to come only at the end of the 
 couplet. The same period as to sense, may be extended 
 through several couplets ; but each couplet ought to con- 
 tain a distinct member, distinguished by a pause in the 
 sense, as well as in the sound ; and the whole ought to be 
 closed with a complete cadence. Such rules confine rhyme 
 within very narrow limits ; a thought of any extent can- 
 not be reduced within its compass. The sense must be 
 curtailed and broken into parts, to make it square with 
 
263 
 
 the curtness of the melody ; and besides, short periods 
 afford no latitude for inversion. 
 
 9. Blank verse has the same pauses as rhyme, and a 
 pause at the end of every line. There must be a musical 
 pause at the end of every line, but this pause may be so 
 faint as to cause no pause in the sense, and thus one line 
 may run into another, until a period of great extent is 
 complete. 
 
 Nothing contributes 7nore to the force and elevation of lan- 
 guage than inversion. The loftiness of Milton's style arises 
 chiefly from inversion. Some regard rhyme as childish, 
 but its use in all modern languages among men as well as 
 children, shows that it could not have such a currency, 
 without some foundation in human nature. It has been 
 employed by poets of genius in their serious and light 
 compositions. 
 
 Music has great power over the soul ; it may be em- 
 ployed to inflame or soothe our passions. A single sound, 
 however sweet, is not music ; but a single sound repeated 
 after intervals, may have the effect to rouse attention ; 
 and a variety of similar sounds must have a still stronger 
 effect. 
 
 Considering the musical effect of a couplet, w^e find, 
 that it rouses the mind, and produces an emotion moder- 
 ately gay, without height or elevation. This considera- 
 tion is applicable to rhyme, which constitues two verse 
 lines by making them close- with two words similar in 
 sound. This beautiful effect of rhyme is lost sight of in 
 a poem of considerable extent. 
 
 10. Ehyme is not a fit dress for grand and lofty images, 
 but it does raise a subject to its own degree of elevation. 
 Addison, Spectator, Ko. 285 Observes: ''That rhyme 
 
264 
 
 without any other assistance, throws the language off 
 from prose, and very often makes an indifferent phrase 
 pass unregarded ; but w^here the verse is not built on 
 rhyme, there, pomp of sound, and energy of expression 
 are indispensibly necessary to support the style, and to 
 keep it from falling into the flatness of prose. 
 
 The cheering and enlivening effect of rhyme, is still 
 more remarkable in poems of short lines, where the 
 rhymes return upon the ear in quick succession. For 
 which reason rhyme is perfectly well adapted to gay, light, 
 and airy subjects. Witness the following : 
 
 Wnen we love and. when we langush ! 
 
 Wishes rising, 
 
 Thoughts surprising, 
 
 Pleasure courting. 
 
 Charms transporting, 
 
 Fancy viewing, 
 
 Joys ensuing. 
 O the pleasing, pleasing anguish! 
 
 Addison, Rosamond,act i so. ii. 
 
 Sportive love, mirth, gayety, humor and ridicule, are 
 the provinces of rhyme. 
 
 Having said what occurs upon rhyme, I close the 
 section with a general observation, that the melody of 
 verse so powerfully enchants the mind as to draw a veil 
 over very gross faults and imperfections. 
 
 I (the Compiler) conclude this part of my subject in 
 the words of Thomas Hood, who says : that blank verse 
 is not to be recommended to the student for practice, as the 
 absence of rhymes necessitates the most perfect melody 
 and harmony ; and without this, such verses have blank 
 ness, but no beauty, and less poetry. They are no better 
 than prose chopped up into lengths. Take the following 
 as a sample : 
 
-265- 
 
 Quite oft in the years which have passed away, with the glories 
 that spring discloses; I've written full many a lyrical lay, of birds, 
 and music, and roses. 
 
 FOUR CHOPPED LINES. 
 Yet sometimes have dreamed that the lips of fame, did con- 
 descendingly kiss me; but found that my verses were rather lame, 
 and the kisses did somehow miss me. 
 
 FOUR MORE CHOPPED LI^STES. 
 
 The. rhymes are : fame, me, lame, me. Written in this 
 way, it would never have been mistaken even for poetical 
 prose. 
 
 Some preliminary notions will now occupy our atten- 
 tion, after which, we will abridge what Everett has writ- 
 ten on Iambic measure, 
 
 -^ 
 
--266 
 
 VERSIFICATION. 
 
 Yersification is the art of making verses. A verse is 
 a metrical line of a length and a rhythm determined by 
 rules which usage has sanctioned. A Hemistich is half 
 of averse. A Distich, or couplet, consists of two verses 
 rhyming together. A Stanza is a regular division of a 
 poem, consisting of two, or more lines, or verses. Stanzas 
 are of every conceivable variety. But in the same poem 
 they should be uniform. A foot is a division of a verse, 
 consisting of two or three syllables. The dissyllabic feet 
 are four in number. Iambus, one short one long, remove; 
 Trochee one long one short, moving ; Spondee two long 
 dark night; Pyrrhic two short syllables, happily. The trisyl- 
 labic feet are eight in number, as follows : Anapest, two 
 short one long, intervene; Dactyl, one long two short, hap- 
 pily; Amphibrach, one short one long one short, redundant; 
 Amphimacer one long one short one long, Winding Sheet ; 
 Bacchus one short two long, The dark night; Antibacchus 
 two long one short, eye servant; Molossus three long, long 
 dark night; Tribrach three short inseparable. The 
 Iambus, the Trochee, the Anapest and the Dactyl are 
 called primary feet. The remaining eight feet are called 
 secondary. When the secondary feet are combined with 
 the primary feet, such verses are said to be mixed. Ac. 
 cording to the number of the feet, the varieties of metre 
 are as follows : Monometer, or a measure composed of 
 one foot; Dimeter of two feet; Trimeter of three; Tetrame- 
 ter of four; Pentameter of five ; Hexameter of six ; Hepta- 
 meter of seven; Octometer of eight; tonometer, of 
 nine. Poetry is written in Blank Verse and Ehyme. The 
 
267 — 
 
 former has been already fully discussed ; rhyme will now 
 again engage our attention. 
 
 Khyme is the correspondence of sound in the termin- 
 ating words or syllables of two or more verses following 
 one another immediately or at no great distance. For 
 two or more words to rhyme to each other, it is necessary 
 1. That the vowel be the same in both. 2. That the 
 parts following the vowel be the same. 3. That the parts 
 preceding the vowel be different. 
 
 Beyond this it is necessary that the syllables, to form 
 a full and perfect rhyme, should be- accented syllables. 
 Old and bold ai e perfect rhymes also contrive, arrive. Air 
 and hair are perfect rhymes, to any, except a Cockney's ear. 
 I now proceed to condense what Everett has to say about 
 Iambic measure. The book is long since out of print, but 
 I trust some publisher, will issue a new Edition, for the 
 especial instruction of fledgeling critics. 
 
 THE IAMBUS. 
 
 1. The Iambus, which is the ground of English num- 
 bers, consists of two syllables, one short, and the other 
 long. I select a line from Saint Louis, the Future Great, 
 which slightly changed will furnish pure Iambic feet from 
 one, to nine feet ; 
 
 They went. 
 They weary went 
 The wagon weary Went, 
 The Weighty wagon weary weiit. 
 Horse to the weighty wagon weary went, 
 The pack-horse and the weighty wagon weary went. 
 Th' advancing pack-horse, and the weighty wagon weary went. 
 The slow advancing pack-horse, and the weiglity wagon weary went, 
 Where once the slow advancing pack-hol'se, and the weighty wagon weary went. 
 
268 
 
 2. The first and shortest Iambic line used in English 
 is followed by a short syllable, and thus corresponds with 
 the Amphibrach. It is never used alone. 
 
 My heart in my bosom abumpiiig, 
 Goes thumping, 
 And jumping. 
 And bumping. 
 
 The Padloch, Act ii Se. i, 
 
 3. The second species of Iambic measure is made up 
 of two feet. It is rarely used alone. 
 
 Where, where are they, 
 Whom Paean's ray 
 Hastouclied, and bid divinely rave? 
 
 Dr. Yoang's Ocean. 
 
 4. The third species of Iambic line is made up of two 
 Iambuses and a short syllable. 
 
 Wlien we two parted 
 In silence and tears 
 Half brokenhearted 
 To sever for years. 
 
 The first and third lines exemplify the rule ; the second 
 and fourth lines are composed of an Amphibrach and an 
 Iambus. 
 
 5. The fourth species of the Iambic line is made up 
 of three Iambuses, and is of very frequent occurrence. 
 
 A thousand cups of gold, 
 In Judah deemed divine, 
 Jehovah's vessel hold, 
 The godless heathen's wire. 
 
 JBryon's Vision of Belshazzar. 
 
 6. The fifth species of the Iambic line is made up of 
 three Iambuses and a short syllable. It is rarely used 
 alone. The additional short syllable imparts a life and 
 sprightliness to this measure, that is surprisingly beauti- 
 ful. 
 
269 
 
 Yon roaring t)oys, wlio rave and fight, 
 On t' other side th' Atlantic, 
 I always held them in the right, 
 But more so, when most frantic. 
 
 Cowper The Modern Patriot, 
 
 7. The sixth species of Iambic line is made up of 
 four Iambuses, and is frequently called the Octo syllabic 
 measure. It is a favorite measure with English Poets. 
 Seven lines in this measure, concluding with an Alexan- 
 drine form a noble Stanza. The following form of a Stan- 
 za suits pathetic and humorous subjects : 
 
 What hallows ground where heroes sleep ! 
 'Tis not the sculptured piles you lieap ! 
 In dews that heavens far distant Aveep. 
 
 Their turf may hloom ; 
 Or Genii twine heneath the deep 
 
 Their coral tomb . 
 
 Campbell, 
 
 In another form three lines rhyme, followed by a fourth 
 of the same or a different number of syllables, which 
 serves as a refrain : 
 
 When life as opening huds is sweet, 
 And golden hopes the spirit greet. 
 And youth prepares his joys to meet, 
 Alas ! hOAv hard it is to die ! 
 
 Mrs. Barbauld, 
 
 The Dies Irae in this measure, in triplets, by Dillon, 
 Earl of Eoscommon is uncommon and beautiful : 
 The judge ascends his awful throne, 
 He makes each secret sin he known. 
 And all with shame confess their own. 
 
 Burns expresses the passion of love in this measure, 
 
 three rhymes, followed by a fourth line formed of two lines 
 
 and an Amphibrach. The last rhyme always repeated : 
 
 As on the brier the budding rose 
 Still richer breaths, and fairer blows, 
 
So in my tender bosom grows 
 
 The love I bear Willy. PUlly. 
 
 8. The seventh species of Iambic measure is made 
 up of four Iambuses and a short syllable. It is peculiarly 
 adapted to the familiar style, and to the Burlesque : 
 
 Then aid Sh Knight abalid duelling, 
 
 And out he rode acolonelling. Hudihras. 
 
 Alternated with four Iambuses, it forms a neat Stanza: 
 
 1 know the thing that's most uncommon 
 
 (Envy be silent and attend) 
 1 know a remarkable woman, 
 Handsome and witty^ yet a friend. Pope, 
 
 9. The Heroic line of five Iambuses is the eighth 
 species of Iambic measure. It suits solemn and sublime 
 subjects ; but not subjects of a gay or triyal nature. It is 
 used in Milton's Paradise Lost, Thomson's Seasons. Ic is 
 used in Quatrains : 
 
 The curfew tolls, the knell of parting day^ 
 The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea 
 The ploughman plods his weary way 
 And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 
 
 Oray^s Elegy ^ in a Country Church Yard, 
 On her white breast || a sparkling cross she wore, 
 Which Jews might kiss 1( and infidels adore. 
 
 Pope's Rape of the Lock, 
 
 The following is made up of triplets alone. This 
 Stanza is uncommon : 
 
 No longei^ hence the Gallic style preferred, 
 W^isdom in English Idiom shall be heard. 
 While Talbot tells the World where Montaigne erred. 
 
 Prior, 
 BLAKK YERSE. 
 
 10. Blank Verse is measure without rhyme. It should 
 always be in the heroic measure. To succeed in this 
 requires a great sensibility of taste ; an ear unerringly 
 correct. Inversions of this species are more frequent than 
 
271 
 
 in rhyme. The only Poet that seems to have succeeded 
 perfectly in this measure, is Milton. Doctor Johnson 
 says: "That rhyme cannot be safely spared, except 
 where the subject ciin support itself." For examples, see 
 Milton's Paradise Lost, and Bryant's Thanatopsis. 
 
 11. The ninth species of the Iambic line, consists of 
 five Iambics and a short syllable. This measure is adapt- 
 ed to burlesque and humorous objects. See Byron's 
 Beppo. 
 
 12. The tenth species of the Iambic line consists of 
 six Iambuses, and forms what is called the Alexandrine. 
 It is used at the end of a Stanza, and sometimes inter- 
 mingled with heroic feet : 
 
 Majestic moves along, and awful peace mabitains. 
 
 Dry den Aeneid B 1 L. 223. 
 
 I have written a Piece on Education in this measure, 
 in triplets, and I consider that I have successfully and 
 advantageously disregarded the arbitrary rule, which re- 
 quires the lines to be divided invariably in the middle. 
 Ko sound reason can be given for such a silly rule. 
 
 Can aught in Education's dream more silly show: 
 
 A youth adrift with all unlearnt, that he should know; 
 
 Is this a useful Education to bestow? 
 
 That all the forest rings, and ev'ry neighboring place, 
 
 And there is not abound buttalleth to the chase. 
 
 Dryden. 
 
 In this piece we have forty four lines, full of mono- 
 syllables, and the capital pause invariably in the middle 
 of the line. Of course, it is no wonder that such poetry 
 should tire both writer and reader, 
 
 13. The eleventh species of Iambic measure is the 
 line of seven feet. It is admirably adapted to quaint, and 
 I may add other subjects. 
 
272 
 
 There were three kings into the East 
 
 Three Kings both great and high 
 An' they hae sworn a solemn oath, 
 
 John Barley Corn should, die. Burns. 
 
 High and die are the rhymes. Properly speaking, the 
 above four lines form only two lines or poetry. The 
 arbitrary rule requiring the capital pause to fall on the 
 fourth foot, may be harmoniously disregarded. 
 
 14. The line of seven Iambuses with a short syllable, 
 is suitable to satiric and humorous subjects. 
 
 15. The use of eight Iambuses in a line is found in 
 Adelaide Proctor, and in Saint Louis, the Future Great 
 1st Edition. 
 
 Saint Louis is to us a distant, light diffusing, shiny star: 
 With Pekin famous, our encircled, guarded Cities on a par; 
 Chicago's light extinct, a warning to the nations from afar. 
 
 16. The Iambic line of nine Iambuses is used in 
 Saint Louis, the Future Great. See Ko. 1. 
 
 For further information See Thomas Hood, and if possi- 
 ble, Erastus Everett. 1848. Out of print. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1. Wehster. 2. Trench on the use of words Lecture ii. No. 33. 
 3 Hazlitt Lecture i. 4. Sir Joshua Reynolds Lecture i. 5. 
 National Encyclopaedia. 6. Encyclopaedia Americana. 7. 
 Dictionnaire des sciences 8. Chamhers' Encyclopaedia. 9. 
 Macaulayon Milton. 10. Quackenhos 11. Webster. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Accident ^ 211 
 
 Acrostics 240 
 
 . Agricultural ^ * ' 211 
 
 Ami, Bon— Acrostic 241 
 
 Ami, Bon— Dedication 191 
 
 Ami, Bon to 202 
 
 ^"^^^ **.'.^*'*.V.*!!*^.!!!'^^ 231 
 
 Appeal, Land Leagues' 221 
 
 Baby, Death of ' / 93 
 
 Bible rj^ 
 
 Burlesques 243 
 
 Caissa, Challenge of. 228 
 
 Casimir's, St. Hymn Preface .[.,..... 26 
 
 Casimir's, St. Tetrameter , * .' * * 29 
 
 Casimir's, St. Pentameter [[[[] 43 
 
 Casimir's, St. Heptameter 57 
 
 Cat, The wonderful .!.*.*..*.....*.'.* 249 
 
 Chess,The game of , [.,..... 224 
 
 Christ, Soul of " 7^ 
 
 Corne tt, Acrostic 244 
 
 Criticism,«Pseudo. * " 209 
 
 Day, The great qq 
 
 Dust ..[,,., 239 
 
 Education * 9^ 
 
 Education 200 
 
 Emphasis , 260 
 
 Enigma 239 
 
 Esculapian gg 
 
 Evils, What are * " 202 
 
 Eannie Erost *..*. 169 
 
 Eannie Erost and theDiamonds [ isi 
 
 Earewell ^9 
 
274 
 
 Farmer, Pre-eminence of 196 
 
 Father — Earth — Heaven , 198 
 
 Fawley, Will 213 
 
 Fisherman, Sail of , 91 
 
 Fishers, the famous 248 
 
 Frank to the Kev. Geo. A. Watson 115 
 
 Frank's Fancies' Freaks 120 
 
 Frank's reply 138 
 
 Frank's Lucubrations answer to 1 43 
 
 Fred, reply to 126 
 
 Fred, Watson's rejoinder to 121 
 
 French, from the 236 
 
 Gainesville, Acrostic 242 
 
 Garfield, Assassination of 216 
 
 Gift, my 201 
 
 Guyot, Loyd 183 
 
 Harmony, The wonderful of 206 
 
 Harrison, Death of 216 
 
 Hash, War 1861 of 237 
 
 Home Circle, Mothers of 193 
 
 Home, Discomforts of '238 
 
 Horse, the bony 246 
 
 Hog Ranch Walnut 243 
 
 Hunters, famous the 192 
 
 Iambus, The 267 
 
 Idyll, Acrostic 241 
 
 Ireland 220 
 
 Juvenis and his friends 154 
 
 Kames' Remarks on English Poetry, abridged 254 
 
 Lady, Anger of 233 
 
 Life, Five periods of 222 
 
 Look, Leering 235 
 
 Longman, Acrostic 241 
 
 Mary, Acrostics of 240 
 
 Men and Women little, of Home Circle 194 
 
 l^ame Holy, Church of 77 
 
 ISTaughton, Michael — 213 
 
 I^iece, Marriage of 87 
 
-275- 
 
 Pastor, the cunning 232 
 
 Pastor, the rural 81 
 
 Pause, capital . 257 
 
 Pause, Semi 2*57 
 
 Pauses, effect of location 257 
 
 Poetry, Preliminary notions of 252 
 
 Poetry, Qualities and rules of 251 
 
 Poetry and History 247 
 
 Potatoes 85 
 
 Prendergast, Julia Isabella 217 
 
 Quantity, False . . ... 256 
 
 Ryan, Et. Rev. P. I. (now most Rev.) 76 
 
 Rhyme. What is -. , 267 
 
 Rhyme, good effect of 264 
 
 Rhyme, Subjects of 265 
 
 Restorative, Hair 837 
 
 Rights, Equal 204 
 
 Sanctum, Invaded the Editors 151 
 
 Saint Louis, The Future Great 7 
 
 Salutation 90 
 
 Sedalia, Acrostic. 242 
 
 Sexton, Picnic of 226 
 
 Sigh Not 234 
 
 Slayback, Col. A 219 
 
 Songsters' Struggle 231 
 
 Stabat Mater 73 
 
 Sophie, Acrostic 241 
 
 Struggle, Terrific 245 
 
 Sunday Law IO5 
 
 Sunday Observance. 107 
 
 Sunday Amusements and Abuses li;i 
 
 Time and Hope 213 
 
 Traitor 209 
 
 Tramp 208 
 
 Trumpet, blast of 240 
 
 Verse, Correct 255 
 
 Verse, English Heroic 260 
 
 Verse, Blank 270 
 
— 276— 
 
 Versification , 260 
 
 Verse, Bl^ink, Everett 262 
 
 Wood, Harvest 199 
 
 Watson, Eev. Geo. A. Incident in Life of 214 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 78 omit r in strains. 
 
 Page 75, bear instead of hear. 
 
 Page 77 se'en, instead of e'en. 
 
 Page 80, read statue for statute. 
 
 Page 95, in Education, omit stead after home. 
 
 Page 99, drudges, instead of judges. 
 
 Page 100, restrain, instead of retain. 
 
 Page 101, read th' instead of the. 
 
 Page 120, budding, instead of building. 
 
 Page 138, before truth insert sterling. 
 
 Page 164, in course, omit u. 
 
 Page 242, succeeded. 
 
 Page 247, specks. 
 
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