■•: V** -^"^ ^^/ -^-^ ^^-^^^ :*^\ "--^^ ■■ . »■>--* . ■■^m- ./\}^^ y^**/^m' y 1 iV ^ • • •! A' ... -^^ '" -r .>''.yo-"' j^'.^y-jr-k / 4:^'% ''y^^v*^.* .*^ ^"f O- * c>, ♦Tvi** aO- %'<^^'' \ r- ^^ V .*-»^ -.^i^W** .f.^ V V ; .i^°- ^- iP^t. V 7 rf^*'-- ECHOES BY LUCirs PKHKV HILLS. A UTO GRAPH EDITION. published bv the authok. Atlanta, Ga. 1892 m 3 1893 CoPYKKiHT 189*J BY Lucirs P. Hills AUTIIOirs PIJKFACK. THIS little collection of verse is not published in response to a general demand, or in fact, to any demand whatever, l)ut simjjlv to gratify a whim of the author. Thoughts awakened l)y the experiences of a somewhat eventful career, having sung themselves into rhyme, have found lodgings among the men- tal faculties, where they have clung with such te- nacity that I have been enablerjiy, Invited her with promise fair, And creeping in, close to its heart, She found the Nortli Wind sleei)ing there She stooped, and on the sleeper's lips She coyly pressed a soft, warm kiss. And thrillmg to its magic touch. The North Wind woke to h:)ve and bliss. He gently wooed the willing maid. And there anon the pair were wed. And close w^ithin the sea-shell's heart. That night they made their bridal bed. They sle])t until the rosy east Blushed with the morning's first caress. Then j)arting with a last embrace. They wandered forth the world to bless. The North Wind swiftly fiew to fan The fevered south with cooling breath ; The South Wind kissed the frozen seas, And woke them from their icy death. 18 I>iit ever since, Ms o'er tlie earth The North aiKl South Winds gaily rove; The murinering sea-shell echoes still, Their iirst foiul whisperings of love. 19 REJECTEIJ. HK took luT liJind and lookecl into lier eyes, Tliose calm, i)iire eyes, holding his destiny; He sought to read them as the sailor tries To read the stars that guide him o'er the sea ; Alas ! how blind is love ! Hope smiling there, Hid from his view the specter of des|)air. He whispered all his faltering voice could say ; He told her of the love that thrilled his soul, He saw her turn her misty eyes away, iVnd felt the warm hand slip from his control, A sad sigh fluttered to her li})s and fell Upon the silence like a funeral knell. She had no need for speech — the tearful eye's Avoidance and the trembling hand's recall, The red lips, quivering with a sad surprise As the regretful sigh escaped — in all, P^ond Hope but heard and saw resistless doom. Folded her wings and crei)t into the tomb. 1>0 UNITED. ^rp^YAS midnight, and I sat alone within *- A room whose solemn darkness was broken Only b}^ the golden gleams of light, shot From the winking stars. Around me all the World was hushed in slumber, while the l)reeze that Crept between the shutters gently fanned my l>row until the wheels of thought began to Move more lazily, and anon my soul Was wafted to the border land that skirts Tlie realm of deep unconciousness. And so. Half sleeping and half waking, there a])])eared To me the vision which I here record. I saw a l^eautious maiden stand beside .V man of stalwart form and nobk' mein ; And standing there, amid a circle of Fond friends, these two were joined together : not •21 Witli eliaiiis that galled and fretted as the years IvoUed l)y, but with silken cords and golden Bands, that sat more lightly on them as theii- Mutual love drew them still closer to each Other. Then hand in liand I saw them start Tpon a journey down a winding way Thick' strewn with flowers,' while overhead the Sky was bright, as with the mellow light of Early morning. The friendly l)and bade Them (lod-speed upon their way, as thus the}^ Journeyed on, each loving and beloved ; and If sometimes their path was rough and l)r()ken For a little space, they stumbled not nor Fell, because their feet kept step unto tlie Music of their loving hearts. Sometimes the Sky was darkened by a cloud, but soon its I Jagged edges wore a golden fringe, and When it broke and scattered, the blue beyond Appeared more glorious because the cloud Had, for a moment, hid it from their view. 22 So, with joyful hearts and faces bright with Smiles, they traveled on together many Years, and when at last they reached the journey's End, the pearly gates of Paradise stood Open wide to welcome them to rest ; but. Pausing for a moment ere they entered In, one lingering glance they cast along The way which they had come, and seeing all. They nothing saw to cause them one regret. 23 MARRIED L <) VERS. COME darling to-night, and sit by my side, Just in the old sweet way ; As we often sat ere yon were a bride. Just in the old sweet way ; On the rustic seat, 'neath the arching vine, Where honeysuckle and roses twine, While your eyes divine look into mine, Just in the old sweet way. I'll whis])er low in your listening ear, Just in the old sweet way ; The endearing words you so loved to hear. Just in the old sweet way ; And as through the leaves the moonlight dri])^ While the drooping lids your eyes ecli])se, V\\ |)ress my lijis to your finger ti})S, Just in the old sweet wav. •24 We'll smile at the scoffs of each envious tongue, Just in the old sweet way ; And grow calmly old as our souls grow young, Just in the old sweet way ; As together we climb life's rugged hill, The old romance shall our beings thrill. For, ever we will be true-lovers still, Just in the old sweet way. 25 GOD BLESS OFB HOME. GOD bless our home ! how oft to Heaven, From pleading li])s, that prayer is sent : While tliose who ask for heaven's smile Curse their own homes with discontent. (iod bless our home! the husband prayed ; Then, when his business day was done, He hied him streightway to the club, And there remained till nearly one. God bless our home ! from cushioned pew A fair young bride the words let fall ; The following night, ^\^th dashing swells. She flirted at the fancy ball. (rod bless our home! the young man said. But well his widowed mother knew That, while she sat alone that night. He practiced with his billiard cue. God bless our home ! with soft white hands A maiden wrought the motto fair, Then fumed and fretted all day long Because she'd no new hat to wear. Alas ! how oft, if Heaven should send Immediate answer to our prayer ; The blessing, when it sought our home. Would fail to find the suppliant there. ' Tis well, perchance, to seek Heaven's aid But while you toil for fame or pelf, 'Twere better in your leisure hours. To trv and bless the home vourself. 27 LENORE. OBEAUTIFITL EYES, as blue as the skies, And bright as the stars that sprinkle the night ; Each soft, melting glance sets my soul hi a trance, And touches each nerve with a thrill of delight. Light tresses of brown, as soft as the down Of the thistle, that floats on the midsummer air ; How I envy the breeze, that with impudent ease, Caresses, and kisses her beautiful hair. () beautiful lips, as sweet as the tips Of rosebuds just touched by the dew from above; What rapture awaits, at those bright coral gates, P\)r the mortal who captures their first kiss of love. O loveliness rare, of eyes, lips and hair. With graces of heart which the angels adore ; No blossom that grows, whether lily or rose. Can compare with the beautiful, darling Lenore. 28 A BHAI^SOIJY. T WAS sitting in the gloaming, ^ With my truent fancy roaming Through the castles I had builded in the air ; I was feasting on the graces Of the rare and fairy faces Of the many dazzling beauties gathered there ; And I lavished fond caresses, On the soft and silken tresses Of both facinating blond and gay brunette, Mot a soul my right disputed. When my blissful kiss saluted The blushing cheek of each fair maiden as we met. But a footstep gently falling, And a sweet voice softly calling. Scattered all my dreamy fancies far and ^\dde ; I arose like one affrighted, When my glad eye was delighted By the vision of my sweetheart at my side ; 29 ITer bright eyes were like the nioriiiiig. And the smile her face adorniiig, Made her radient beauty seem almost divine ; And a thrill of joy went through me, As I bent, and gently to me. Drew my darling till her loving lips met mine. (), your lips may know the blisses, Of a thousand friendly kisses. On the cheek of lovely maidens dark and fair; And your hands may feel the blessing Of the oft and soft caressing. On silken curls of gold or raven hair ; But the one supreme emotion. Which stirs all the soul's devotion, And rivals e'en the joy of heaven above ; Is the sweet, ecstatic rapture. Which fills and thrills you at the capture Of the first kiss fi-oni the red warm lips of love. 30 AUTUMN GLORIEH. 1L0VE the grand forest, 'tis nature's cathedral, And the spirit of worship dwells peacefully there ; The chorus of birds sing their anthem of praises. While each whispering zepher seems breathing a prayer; But I love best to wander amid its deep shadows, When the summer is gone and the year's grow- ing old, And the glorious arches above me are frescoed In colors of purple, and crimson and gold. But, while the bright hues of the sweetgum and maple. The oak and the beech, in their beauty combine, The eye loves to catch an occasional gliraps of The evergreen freshness of hemlock and pine ; 31 For the soul feels a thrill of still dee])er devotion. To see, when the bleak winds of autumn l)low cold, The emerald tints of the spring-time, still blended With autumn's rich purple, and crimson and gold, And so in our lives, if the spirit is nourished With the soft dews of love, and the sunshine of truth, When our powers are failing, our heart's best emotions Shall blossom and grow in perpetual youth ; So when the chill frost of old age falls upon us. And the warm cheering days <>f life's summer are told, In our souls, the bright verdure of childhood shall mingle With the glory of purple, and crimson and gold. 82 A CUllL OF (iOLlJEN HAIR, O ITTING by my study table, ^ In the twilight cold and gray, Toying with an ancient volume That had long been laid away ; P\'om between the covers fluttered, Fell, and lay before me there, A Httle bunch of violets, fastened With a curl of golden hair. In a moment all my fancies Of the future backward roll, While memories of other days Come sweejjing in upon my soul. Days when I, a youth of twenty. Free from every thought of care. Fondly loved the blue-eyed maid, who Wore that curl of o-olden hair. 83 1 think of that bright summer eve When, sitting 'neath the arching vine, The little hand that ])lucked those flowers Lay so lovingly in mine, While we builded airy castles Which we might together share. When the bridal wreath should twine Among those curls of golden hair. And, when at last that night I left her. At her father's cottage door. Little dreaming I should see her Lovely form in life no more. Long I stood and gazed enraptured At the dimpled face so fair. Then stooping, kissed the soft white brow, Beneath its crown of golden hair. Ere long I stood beside a casket. In a silent, darkened room. And my poor, despairing soul was Wrapped in deepest midnight gloom, 34 For I looked upon ray darling, Ljdng cold and lifeless there, A wreath of snow-white lilies, mingled With her wealth of golden hair. T^ong weary years have passed since then, And I have roamed the wide world o'er Have stood upon the mountain peak. And on the ocean's stormy shore ; Vet, through all of Ufe's emotions. In hope and joy, or doubt and care. The link that binds my soul to Heaven, Is that bright curl of golden hair. 85 MY AXiiEL BRIDE. ALONE b}^ the firelight's titful gleam T sit in mj^ easy chair, And watch in the flames the by-gone scenes Which my fancy pictures there ; And as swiftly by on memory's wings The pictured fancies glide, I catch the trace of a beautiful face, The face of my angel bride. Our lives were joined by no jn'iestly words, No bridal wreath had she, h'or all to soon did the angel come And bear her away from me ; IJut 1 know while eternity's ages roll, She is mine, whatever betide. For our souls were wed, ere the sj)irit fled From the form of my angel l)ride. 36 My 8oul luis lu) tspace for a living love, For His iillea with the love of the dead A love that is purer than many a love Where the priestly words are said ; So, as still alone on the river of life, 1 float with the drifting tide, ril i)lace each day, a fresh boquet On the grave of my angel bride. 37 WHEN I BIT DEO WEI). I'm only des' a 'ittle boy, Not more'n 'bout free years old ; An' sometimes when I'm naughty, zen My mamma she 'ill stold ; But I dess I'll do ze bestest sings Anybody ever knowed, F'or I'm doin' to be ze doodest man, When I dit drowed. My dreat bid sister's dot a beau, 'At tomes here all ze time, An' when I do into ze room, ITe des' dives me a dime, An' says I 'ook so s'eepy 'at He dess it's time I doed, But I'm doin to tourt some dirl myse'f^ When I dit drowed. 38 My auntie's dot a l)al)y l>oy, No l)iut my young heart keeps repeating, I'm just sixteen in June. 49 Long years ago, I luid a l)eau, A noble, darling boy, - I)Ut then [ played the bashful maid, So very shy and coy; And when he ])roposed to me, I said, "Augustus Charles Hethune, You know I am too young to wed,- Pm just sixteen in June," So then Augustus went away, And never did come back ; And shortly afterwards, I heard He'd married Sally lilack ; l>nt if e'er another fellow i)o])s, I won't be sueh a loon. For ril nestle on his breast and say. We'll marrv, love, in June. 50 ONL Y. ONLY a (leorgy mule, Tvelieved of his wearisome load, With never a thought of harm, P^eding beside the road. Outy a little l)oy, Playiug a frolicsome trick, C'arefully coming behind, Tickles the mule with a stick. Only a shapeless mass, Flying aloft through the air, Where is the little boy V Echo res])ondeth, ^^where ?" ( )nly a little grave. With nioiuMiers weeping around ( )nly a funeral show, . For the bodv was never found. 51 V OETK \ \L col H TSJIIP. SOME years ago, in an Eastern town, There lived a girl named Susan Brown, A\'li<), throngli tlie country, up and down, Obtained consideral)le renown. Not for any special grace Of intellect, or form, or face ; Eor certainly it would be vain, To deny that she was extremely ])lain. Her form was lemarkably sliort and stout. Her complection was like a speckled trout, Her eyes were the color of well-skimmed milk. And her hair like a snarl of crimson silk. Tinged with the vivid tint that lies In the glowing autumn sunset skies ; In fact, so red, Fve heard it said, That often in the night, it shed Upon the darkness sucli a glow. The roosters all b-eo-an to ci-ow. For, stH'iii'j,- the li.ulit sliiiie out in tlie iiiii'bt, So exceedinoly red, and uneoinmonly bright, The birds (winch isn't at all surprising,) Supposed, of course, the sun was rising, And so they crowed with all their might. But Susan had one saving grace, Aside from mind, or form, or face ; For every one in the viUage knew Mer paternal i)arent was rich as a Jew ; In fact, ])os8essed of a million or two ; And so, each impecunious bach' Thought, for a matrimonial matcli, Susan would make a most elegant catch. Now, in the self-.-ame village, where Dwelt the heiress of this millionaire, l^here lived a youtli suri)assing fair, Witli c(^al-black eyes, and raven hair. Named, Charles Augustus James St. Clair His accom])lishments were many and rare. And he bore himself with a courtly air, Which a modern school-girl would au|)er, without a cent; Poor as a chui'ch-niouse — dui'ing Lent ; Or even ])()orer still than that, i*ooi- as a c;)untry ))arsonage rat. Vet, despite his })overty, all the same, This youth with the eu))honious name. Declared his soul was all aflame With a passion which no power could tame, For the girl with the golden hair and fame ; And when the village gossips came And whispered slyly in liis ear That Susan Brown was rather queei-, Or, when some envious maiden said That Susan's temper, like her head, 54 Wiis a jK'rtVct snarl, and a fuM-y i-cd, He only smiled his blandest smile, (Childlike it seemed, though full of guile,) And snapped his fingers at their warning, And all their sage advices scorning, Declared that he would woo and win her, Although '•'•Old Nick"" himself were in her Alas ! my muse must here proclame, That, in the matrimonial game, 'Tis often w^ealth, not worth, that wins, For gold we see, like charity. Van hide a multitude of sins. IJut to resume ; one Sabhah night, When moon and stars were shining bright, Our diaries Augustus James St. Clair Arrayed himself with special care. In a broadcloth suit, glossy and new, (For which he had paid with an I. O. V.) And sallied forth to meet the maid On whome his future h()))es wei'e staid. Determined, without more debate, 'i'hat night lie woiiM (Iccidc his fate. And silently wandei-ing on his way, ^\nd earet'uUy pondering wliat to say, He framed a speech brim full of lies, Such as Ave know all ladies prize. Of features fair, and glossy hair, And mental graces rich and rare, And ruhy lips, and sparkling eyes. .\nd heing a'sthetic, and somewhat poetic. And having a voice that was very magnetic. He arranged a chime of pleasing rhyme, Which he meant to recite at the ])ro])er time. In a style that should 1)e extremely pathetic. Precisely at the hour of eight He entered at the garut there he stop])ed, as well he might, For in a rage the lady rose, And with one hand seized his clasic nose, AVhile the nails of the other plowed the skin Of his cheek, from the tem]»le to the chin ; And she yelled in his affrighted ear, In a voice most terrible to hear : 'd'll teach vou, von base, ill-mannered bear. 58 To be making liglit of my aubui-ii liair!'" And then she gave his ears a box, And madly tore his raven h)c'ks, Till he rent the skies with his piercing ci-ies, Whik' teai's of an enormons size IvoIUmI down in torrents from bis eyes. Ibit at length, by an effort of wild despaii-, (And depiiving his head of a handfnl of liair,) He managed away from her grasp to tear. And without an adieu, away he Hew At a gallo])ing pace, which I tell }*ou Would rival Tam O'Shanter's mare. Now, the watch-dog saw the Hying man, As down the garden walk he ran, .Vnd, with a natural belief That he was an escaping thief, Pursued him to the garden wall. Where, never slacking his speed at all With one wild leap he left the ground. And cleared the wall at a single bound ; But alas ! as he went, he left beneath, 59 The tail of his coat in the watch-dog's teeth AikI iIk'D, aixl tlicrc, in tlial tcrrihh' tear. Ended forever the love affair Between the gallant young St. Clair, And the girl with the very auburn hair. Vonng men, whenever you go to pro])Ose, Pray be contented with sim])le prose ; For, if you attempt to appear sublime, By i^utting your sentiments into rhyme, A^ou'r sure to get muddled every time. And ten to one you'll loose your bride, And perhaps the tail of your coat beside. GO "/r MIGHT II A VE been:' IT might have been — ah ! so it miglit, But that is neither here nor there ; It is not, and tlierefore I write, T do iK^t care, A hair. It might liave been — so T awake To find my hopes a dream, and yet, I will not jump into the lake, And so get wet. You bet. Tt might have been — but as a rule. Experience only serves to show That one was but a stupid fool To wish it so, You know. 61 Tlien farewell tliat which might have been. For milk that's spilled I will not cry, But hail the sentence from your pen Without a sigh, l>ye-bye I (>2 HARBY'S REPLY. (SUut, since you are contented and happy And have no cause to repine At the lot which P^ate has decreed you, I'll try and not grumble at mine ; For this we both seem to agree in, That it's better for you and for me, That I married the cross-eyed widow. Instead of Margery Lee. 65 LUTE AND L YRE. BENEATH the window of ray love I stood, bathed in the moonhglit's gkiw, And softly on my lute, I played A serenade in treittolo. With hesitating voice I sang, "Fair Maid, I love you as my life ! And sad will be my destiny If you refuse to be my wife." Xext night another wooer came, With instrument of strange design, iVnd from its strings, with skillful touch, Drew strains that seemed almost divine ; "Light of my soul," he boldly sang, "1 love you more than life or Heaven, And surely I shall pine and die. If from its light my soul is riven." 66 The bold musician won the maid, While I in loneliness remain ; And often, of the cruel Fates, I've asked the reason why, in vain ; But now alas ! I know full well The cause of my desaster dire, I serenaded with a lute. My crafty rival, with a lyre. 67 MOITNTAW ECHOES. m DIALECT. THE MOOXSlIIXEirs GREETING. HKITJ)! stiaiio-er, wlio l>o you? ('ftifer cf the revenue 'r IJeckoii not, but if you be, Here's a hint Til give you free — Turu alxnit your bosses' tail. Take the back track down the trail. Pike for licine a-foie your wife Gits tliMushureuee on your life. We-uus here luust live, you know. Them chaps don't oive us no show^; So we reckon that it's right To meet them revenues with fight, An\ stranger, fightin' hain't no fun When we git keerless with a gun. But if you've come here to see What city cliaps call scenery, 71 Take the trail to yander peak, Thar you'll find the thing you seek ; A'ou can git from that one si)ot, Finest views that Georgy's got ; North or South, or East or West, Can't tell which one is the best ; IJidge on ridge the mountains rise, Blue tops kissin' of the skies, And the vallies in between, Shinin' with the brightest green. You'll be hongry gittin' back. Then we'll have a little snack ; Hain't got no great shakes up here, l>ut you're welcome to a sheer ; Pone of corn bread, smokin' hot. Coffee from the ole tin j)ot, Bacon, jest a slice or two. Then a drap of mountain dew, ^Mountain dew which, T tell Yor, Hain't paid nary revenue. If you'd like to spend the night, We kill fix you u]) all ri<>-lit ; Hain't got but one room you see, Ole ooman, Sal, an' Jake an' nie, I^ut as long as thar's a floor We'll make a place for jest one more. I)Ut if you're nosin' roun' this hill To smell out someone's moonshine still, I won't orate any more, But say that same I said before ; Turn about your bosses' tail. Take the back track down the trail, ( )r ole Jake won't garantee What may happen, don't you see ? 73 1 THE CITY (ILUIR 1)1 KT. W^ be'ii down to the city, wife, aiT staid a week oi- more, All' thai* 1 seed a heep o' tilings I never seen a-fore, But I want iiios' perticabir, to tell you 'bout a toon I heerd a city choir sing, on SuiKbiy a'tenioon. Vou know when we war boys an' gals, they had preacliin' Sunday night' In the little ole log meetiir-house, at airly caii'le- light ; An' when it come to singiiT hymns, accordiii' to my tas'e, ^'oll war the captain as a trible, an' me tol'able on bass. So I jest as't a chap I met as 1 war strollin' roun', Whar they had the pnrtiest music of any meetiii'- house ill town? An' he p'inted to a biiildin' with a steeple, I declar', Mos' as hio'li, an' twice as peaked as ole Shai-p Top over there. A feller took me to a seat, way back agin' the wall, I \spose so I coidd see the nios' 'thout turnin"' roiin' at all, An' I thought how mighty clever them 'are c*ity chaps mus' be. To study the convenience of a mount'ineer like me. Well, I wasn't long to take the hint, but jest sot thar an' gazed At the queer an' ])urty tixin's, till I grew so sort o' dazed, That I r'ally eenamost begun to wonder if I had Somehow walked right into Heaven, 'tliout know- in' I Avar dead. The big, high winders that tliey had, to let the daylight through. War made of queer-shaped little glasses, colored yaller, red aiT blue ; 75 All' tlie ceiliir war all tVigerceed, or whatever 'tis they call That 'ar sort of tigger ])aintiir that they put onto the wall. The choir sot up in a loft where everyone could see, An' the orgin uj) hehhid 'eni war the queerest thing to me For I vow that it war l)out as big as this 'ere cabin here. An' the cliaj) that })layed onto't, — I think they called the orgin eei'. When the folks had ariv' an sot down, the orgineer Played a perliniinary toon, they called a volunteer, Then he give a little signal for the choir to begin, When they all riz in their })laces, an' together started in. For a while it seemed to nie that they war singing of a race, First the alter with the trible, then the tenor with the bass ; MJ Then the alter bass an' trible, started a three-coi-- nei'ed song, Till binieby the tenor humped liisself, an' holp the thing along. Then they all stopped but tne tril)le, an' she begun to sail, \Vith her demer-senier-quaverin', ;dl up an' down the scale, Till the twistin's an' giratin's of her vocal acrobets, 'Minded me of circus fellers, turnin' double sum- jnersets. Then the singin' stoi)ped a minute, while the or- ghieer, he ])layed A toon so melancholy like, I sw'ar, it fairly made, In s])ite of all that I could do, two little streams (^f brine. Come gushin' from the cornei-s of these tough ole eyes o' mine. Then the tenor an' the trible started in on a duet. 77 An' talk of soothiii' music, that war yoothiir yon kin bet ; P'or it war as soft an' tender as the gentle nionn- t'in breeze, That of a summer evenin' goes a soughin' through the trees. An' the longer they kept singin', the more sooth- in'er it got. Till they come to taper off the eend, an' then you see, I sot An' shet my eyes an' listened, till I r'ally thought Marier, The very angels had come down an' j'ined that city choir. Now, I don't go much on golden streets, for't kinder seems to me, That sich pavin' stuns an' these ole feet won't nios'ly jest agree ; An' as for playin' hymns an' psalms on golden harps, good laws ! 78 My lijiiids 'u(I he Ms clumsy as a ])air o' lobster's claws. But when the time has come at last, for me to take the trail To the yan side of the mount'iu, from this subler- nary vale ! An' I walk uj) sort o' trembliu', an' present myself before The angel that's ai)])'inted to tote the keys to heav- en's door, If he should grant to let me in to evei-lastin' bliss, .\n' offer me my ruther thar, I'll onl}^ ask for this — Through all th' indurin' ages of eternity, to set An' listen wdiile the angles sing that city choir duet. 79 n AY, F THE OPERA EXrORE. AY, FELI^EillvS, I war down to town about a ^eek ago, An' a city chap I knowed as't me to go an' see the show ; Twar a sort o' singm' circus that they called an operar, An' a gal named Miss Ma-dam-a-selle war ])layin' as the star. When we went up to the show-house, about eight o'clock at night, All the inside of the buildin' war in sich a l)laze o' light, An' so crowded full o' people that it nearly turned my mind, An' I had to shet my eyes awhile to keep from goin' blind. 80 The woMieii folks war dressed up iniolity tine, ex- ceptin' jest a few, That sot up ill sort o' eages, riglit hi everybody's view ; T reckon they war Veniises, or some sieh folks as those, They war so white an' stattoo like, an' pow'rful scant o' clothes. The inusieianers, they i)layed awhile, an' then the curt' ill riz. All' the sioht 1 saw upon the stage jest set my l)rain a- whiz ; .V lot o' fellers toggled out in fancy-colored frocks. While the dresses of the gals, it 'peared to me war mostly socks. This war what they called the chorus, an' they (hiiiced an' sung a spell. An then went, marchhi' off the stage, an' Miss Ma-dam-a-selle, With her lover cha]) came in an' sung a sort o' seesaw song, SI First the one an' tlien the other, jest a-hmpin' 'er ahjng. 'ilien they had a sort o' hiiggin' match, an' a kind o' kissin' spree, Till another cliaj) came rnshin"" in, as mad as he could be, An' drew his sword, an' made a lunge to git that lover's gore. When the gal she fainted i)luml) away, an' tum- bled on the floor. Hight at this p'int tlie cui-t'in fell, an' the ))eo])le clapped an' cheered. An' raised the durnedest i-acket that my cars had ever heerd, Till I as't my pardncr what tliey meant by sich a blamed uproar, ^A¥hvi" ho said, ^^the playin' war so tine they wanted an encore." So bimeby the curt'in riz ag'in, an' Miss Ma-dam- a-selle, 82 Came a-bowin' an' a-smiliir, while tlie iiiusie ])layed a s])ell. Then she suuo- a s()iio<)f ^^llome, Sweet Home,'" so tenderly an' low, ''lliat I thought one of the heavenly choir war ti'avlin"' with that show. \ow I reckon, fellei's, you may think that Tm a-tellin' hes, l>ut ril sw'ar that music hrought the teai's a- steamin' from my eyes. For lu']- voice jest seemed to i-each my heart, and wind itself around. So tremblin\ soft an' silky, like a spidei- web of sound. An' whlie I sot thai" an' listened, like someone in a dream, I seemed to heai- the ripplin' water, in yander mount'in stream, The i-ustle of the autumn leaves, the murmer of the bi-eeze. 83 An' the warbliii' of the robms in the hiiiachets of the trees. 'I'hen a picter riz before nie, of this log cabin here, Whar Fve Uved on corn an' bacon for nigh onto sixty year. But while I wai- a-lisiiin' to that Httk' sliow-gal sing, I wouldn't traded this ole cabin for tlie ])alace of a king. lUit when at last the singin' ended, I puHed my pardner's sleeve, Au tohl Ihni that i i-eckoned it wai' time foi* nie to leave, For my soul war runnuT over with the music of that song. An' I wanted to git out o' doors aiT cai'ry it along. An' ever sence that evenin', when the sun is sinkin' low. While the sunnnit of ole Sharp Toj) thai-, shines with its dyin' glow, 84 r l)ow my head an' listen, till I almost seem to hear The music of that same s.veet song- a-ringin' in my ear. An' I'll tell you fellers, when my time to leave this world has come. If I should git a ticket to the new Jerusalum, All I'll ask, is jest for standin' room, way back agin' the door. To hear that show-gal's angel sing, "Sweet Home" forevermore. 85 s HOW THE FIDDLE SUXG. AY, boys, you know that city chap that's be'n a-totin' me around, To see all sorts of sights an' hear most every kind of sound V Well, when I war m town last week he tuck me out ag'in, To hear a high-toned tiddler chap play on the violin, — l.eastwise, I think they called it some sich high- ferlutin name, But good Lord, 'twar nothin' but an ole red fiddle all the same, — Howsomever, if you chaps had heerd that fiddle sing, you'ld swore You never heerd no instrumunt could sing like that, before. S6 The fiddler came onto the stagje Avith a knowin' kind o' smile, An' stood a-strokin' an' a-pattn' that ole tiddle tor awhile. Like it war a livin'' critter, that could feel an' un- derstand, A silent language he war talkin' by the techin' of his hand. Then he put it to his shoulder, an' then he laid his chin, In a sort of a caressin' way, down on that violin, P^or all the world jest like a child 'ud lay its head to rest. On the soft an' soothin' piller of a lovin' mother's breast ; Then he shet his eyes a minute, in a dozy kind o' way, Like 'twar night, an' he war jest a-goin' to fiddle in the day, While I foUered suit, an' shet mine too, for music alius 'pears To give me a queerish sort o' sense of seein' with my ears. «7 Then the fiddler went to tiddlin', kind o lazy like an' slow, An' the strings begun to whisper with a music sw^eet an' low, As if they couldn't help from singin', but sung quiet like, to keep From w^akin' up the dreamin' world too sudden' from its sleep. 'Jlien purty soon I seemed to see a sort o' misty light, Creepin' slowly u]» the eastern sky, an' pushin' back the night ; The birds begun to twitter in a hesitatin' style, p]xperimentin' like to see if it was wuth their while. But when bimeby the summits of the ole Blue Ridge, begun To show" the ravelin's of light around the edges of the sun, Why, the whole indurin' chorus jest turned in with a vim, An' sot the world rejoicin' with their airly mornin' hymn, 88 Wliilo tlio fiddler drew tlie music from tliem lld- dle-strings so tine, That doggone me if I didn't think I heerd the sunbeams shine. Then I seed two lovers conrtiiT in the shadder of a tree, An' they war jest about as spoony as lovers ever git to be ; I seed Vm whisperiiT secret like, 'l)()ut t'other, that an' this, An their heads kept (b-awiiT cluser, till bimeby I heerd a kiss, — Not one ()' them as p()j)s out with a sudden plunk an' thud, I. ike a nuile a-j>ullin' of his foot from ole Xo'th- (ileorgy mud, But a lingerin'-sweetness-hmg-drawn-outish kind o' kiss, you know. Like the feller'd tuck a powerful holt, an" couhhrt let 'er go ; It sounded like a whip-lash, jest before you hear 'er crack, SI) But it lasted rutlier longer, an' ended with a smack That made my ole lip > tingle with the very sort o' fire, That ust to tickle 'em sometimes, when I war courtin' of Marier. Then the tiddler give the tnne a turn, an' I seed a black cloud rise. Like a widder's vail unroUin' o'er the bright face of the skies, The wind turned in to howlin' like a risin' har- ricane, The birds left oft' their singin', an' it begun to rain. The lovers took to kivver, for lovers, you kin bet. Are a-most like other critters, 'bout gittin' hungry, cold or wet ; I seed the lightnin' blazin', an' I heerd the thunder crash, An' for awhile it seemed as if the world 'ud go to smash, — But jest thar the music changed ag'in, the black cloud rolled away. 9U An' left the sky jest curtained with a dismal sort o' gray ; The wind came sighin' through the trees with sich a lonesome sound, That I felt as if there warn't another livin' soul around. Then a church bell went to tollin' for a spirit that had Hed, An' somehow, you see, I scorned to know a little child war dead ; I seed an o])en grave, an' a baby's cofhn settin' thar, 1 heerd a mother cryin' while the Parson said his pray'r. Then the sexton war a-lowerin' the cofiin in the ground, An' I heerd the dirt fall on it with a dull, heart- sicknin' sound ; An' that fiddle war a-singin' sich an agonizin' strain, That it seemed as if the universe war moanin' with its i)ain ; 91 All creation turned to w'eQ\>'u\' an" i could a-swore^ you know, 'lliat I seed the tears a-drappin' from that (piiv- erin' tiddle bow. While tlie crowd that sot thar listenin\ jest oas))ed an' held theii- l»i-eath. Till the nnisic in that fiddle, sohhed an' sobbed itself to death. An' tlie woi-ld went into niournin\ as its spirit viz on hicrh. To o-o foi-evt'r an' forevei-, serenadin' throuoh the skv. An' I'll bet my bottom dollar, if that choir ai-ound the throne. Should ever ketch the echo of that wanderin' s})irit's tone. They'll hush their song awhile, an' give their golden harps a rest, While from every chamber windei' in the man- sions of the blest, A bouqut of angel heads '11 be a-stretchin' out to hear <)2 'Vhv music of tliat serenade i-iuo- lliioimli tlie lieav- eiily sp'ere. An' it* them cherubs ever learii wliat instruuiuut on earth, Sung tlie airly morniir antlieni at tliat serenader's birth, I reckon tliat for once they'll do a )>o\verful hu- man thing. For tliey'll envy every cuss that's lieei-d that ole red hddle sino-. m AN ECHO FROM THE OLD FARM. -. '^-<^ ? ^ - M ' WHEN THE HONEYMOON IS O VEE. w /^ELL, John, 3^011've be'ii a-telliii' me you're troiii' to leave \is soon, To take a little M'eddin' tri]>, and s])en(l the honeymoon ; So I guess you're happy as a lark that sings the wliole day through, .And I reckon you've got no idee of ever feelin blue ; lUit, my boy, I went that road myself, nigh forty year ago, And 1 got acquainted with some things that mebbe you don't know ; So jest lennne give yon some few p'ints, al)()ut the outs and ins. When the honeymoon is over, and tlie lumidrum life begins. 97 Tht^m poets say, that lovers most alius sonietmies thinks they hears Then- own little world revolvin' to the music of the spheres, All nater's full o' melody, from the whistle of the breeze, To the warbHn' of the little birds, and hummin' of the bees ; But when their ways begin to clash, and things don't kind o' June, That same world some how or other gits to ])layin' out o' tune. And their ears become familiar with the (liscords and the dins. When the honeymoon is over, and the humdi-um life be2:ins. ^'our Avife won't be an angel, John, and if she was, I fear You'ld make the most ongainliest match, to work in le hariM^ss won't ])ull together every time ; And your double-seated keerrige, though l)ran- spang new and sUck, Won't most alius jog along the road without a hitch or click ; •^9 You may try and keep tlw axles 'iled, and tJie geariir all screwed tiglit, And you'll ruther guess the vehicle '11 make the trip all right ; But you're bound to hear the clatterin' of loos- ened bolts and pins, When the honeymoon is over, and the humdrum life begins. The fallow liehl o' life, my l)oy's, chock full o' stuns and stumps. And every laborer's got to take his share of thumj)S and l)unipM ; For the critters will git frjictious like, and you can calculate. You'll frequent' find it powerful hard to ph)ugh your furrer streight ; Then, when the hayin' time comes on, you'll be mighty apt to fret. And complain of Providence because the clover's gittin' wet; 100 But that's jest- the tmie to tight aghi' your most besettm' sins, When the honeymoon is over, and tlie liunidi-iina life begins. So, my son, wlien you've been aU day long, a- workin' out o' doors, Till you have to use the lantern -light to do your even in' chores, Then you come in tired and hungry, and set down to wait for tea. With your coat Hung on a cheer post and one foot up oil your knee ; Don't look sour because your little wife ain't quite as spruce and neat As when you sot and courted lier on that, ole rus- tic seat ; But remember, she must wrassle with the kittles and the tins, When the honeymoon te OAxr, and the humdrum life begins. 101 I suppose you kiu reuieuiber, how you used to " spend your cash, Jest to git your sweetheart keromils and every sieh-like trash ; Then you never reckoned the expense, and if she'd only smile, And jest put her little hand in your'n and leave it there awhile ; You grew so soft and nieller like, you vowed your very life Would be a stingy price to pay for sicli a darlin' wife ; So don't grumble now, at what she si)ends for nee- dles, thread and phis. When the honeymoon is over, and the hunuh-um life betrins. But, my boy, you alius make a little sweetheart of your wife, And be her tender lover through all the changin' scenes of life ; 102 Try mikI lielj) her bear her biirdeiis, and you'll Hiid your'ii lighter too, And her smile when storm-elouds gather'U l)e like sunshine peekin' through ; And all along the toilsome journey, clean to the very end Make her your partner and companion, and confi- dential friend ; Then youll find that little wife o' yourn is heav- en's richest boon. For she'll make the humdrum of your life, a life- lono- honeymoon. lO:^ xxo \ ••••♦.'<^ "o V .' •i'-O' & ^'ii > \*^^V V^^*/ \*^^V ^^' ^. *.To« aO v- ► i"!.*^- ^j, • # 1 ■P^ .•: .* ^o 4V •!• ' • • « Av ^^ 'o,T« A ♦ 'o r ••••«.'<> /»C:^^% ol -o • » • A .^* .0 ^^^^ •. • '^^..^^ ^« ^ "a oV^SjO^* ijy ^ • ^1* :. .0 ^^^ •. %^<