Class _1__^J 
 
 \ 3 0' 
 
Recitations and 
 Dialopcs 
 
 ti -« 
 
 By mr$. 0. Uf. eriffin 
 
 "^ OopyrigM, 
 Applied for, 
 
 iaa4 
 
AUG 21 lyUi) 
 
 ^^/ Z/. /9d6' 
 / A95 77 
 
 75 35-13 
 
 IT 67^ 
 
 1V'4' 
 
 Z'?*^ 
 
 The river of time flows toward eter- 
 nity's gulf, 
 
 The current bears thouglitless liumau- 
 ity away. 
 
 None can improve the lost oppor- 
 tunity, 
 
 That lies in the relm of yesterday. 
 
 While searching for the source of 
 this mystical river, 
 
 Toward the mouth we unprecepitably 
 trace, 
 
 And equally with those, lost are all 
 efforts, • 
 
 Who searcli for the margin at the 
 beginning of space. 
 
1^ 
 
 CORRECTION. 
 
 The publication of this book was not 
 undertaken with the expectation that it 
 would fill any especial place in the realm 
 of literature. 
 
 Financial circumstances do not permit 
 reprinting, and I trust the readers will 
 kindly overlook all orthographical and 
 typographical errors for which the author 
 is not responsible. Cherishing the hope 
 of a second undertaking, and as a means 
 of furthering that attempt, this book is 
 placed upon the market. 
 
ROOSEVELT 
 
 In Oregon City 
 
The President in Oregon City. 
 
 From under neatli tlie Llended line, 
 
 Of red, white and blue, 
 
 The engne of glossy black was seen, 
 
 Decorated with cedar green. 
 
 The station rang with applauses loud, 
 
 And from the hill the gatliering crowd, 
 
 In anxios wonder beheld the train, 
 
 For him thej sought but not in vain. 
 
 One car o'er the rest superior rose. 
 
 By displaying his features his por- 
 
 trate shews. 
 Silence o'er the multitude crept, 
 And Roosevelt on the platform stepped. 
 In fullness each eye absorbed the light, 
 Where a Nation's president stood in 
 
 sight, 
 Eager ears were bent with fear, 
 Least his accents they might not hear. 
 A congratulation for the fertile land. 
 Nature's bounties on every hand, 
 The future's hopeful prospects view, 
 With an increased crop of children too. 
 Not only the quantity in demand. 
 But the quality that is on hand. 
 Encouraging the prosperity of the 
 
 Nation, 
 Under the present form of adminis- 
 tration. 
 He expressed regrets at not being able 
 
 to stand, 
 And grasp each citizen by the hand. 
 The train pulled forth and left the 
 
 crowd. 
 Who cheered their chief both long and 
 
 loud. 
 
 3 
 
Baby OlUe. 
 
 The golden ray of sunlight, 
 
 The little bndded rose, 
 Are emblems of the spirit land. 
 
 Where bliss and love o're flows. 
 
 A cloudy day, a blighted flower, 
 
 Not e'en the song of birds, 
 A blasted hope, a broken heart, 
 
 Aie griefs untold by w'ords. 
 
 Little OUie's Angle face. 
 Has left this world of care, 
 
 The sorrows which we daily know. 
 Are not for her to share. 
 
 When nature yields to pain and toil. 
 Temptations arise on every hand, 
 
 Far from the evil tempters grasp. 
 She's landed safe in Bulah land. 
 
 Some hearts w^ho trust in human power 
 And scoff at Christ's endeavor, 
 
 Are crushed by presure from above. 
 With God's hand on the lever. 
 
 Let others weep who see their blood. 
 
 Rebelling at his throne. 
 Without a hope to reach the world. 
 
 Where parting is never known. 
 
 Pure and holy was the pet, 
 The prize from God was given. 
 
 Just long enough to win the heart, 
 And woe the soul to heaven. 
 
 Waxen work of the finest mould, 
 The sculpture's chizel on the rock. 
 
 Could ne'er surpass the perfect gem, 
 Under the sod in a wooden box. 
 
Johnies' First Cigarette. 
 
 When Raleigh sat in his chamber to 
 
 smoke, 
 His servant failing to see the joke, 
 Down the stairs ran the faster 
 After dousing water on his master, 
 Shouting fire at the top of his voice. 
 Galling for help as was his choice. 
 
 But his experence was not as severe. 
 As that of our little school boy here, 
 Whose angry mother takes it in hand, 
 Her wayward son to repremand. 
 This knowledge gained has saved 
 
 many a penny, 
 To know that one cigarette was one to 
 
 many, 
 Johnie to manhood was rapidly grow- 
 ing, 
 Considered in school as quite accurate 
 
 in knowing, 
 The day finally came when his senses 
 
 awoke. 
 To be completely accomplished he 
 
 must learn to smoke. 
 *'My companions will call me both 
 
 stupid and soft. 
 If am not bound to a habit I cannot 
 
 brake off." 
 
 The one thing lacking he now began, 
 With cigarette in mouth and match 
 
 in hand. 
 He gave several puffs then turned to 
 
 the glass, 
 As the smoke rolled out in a mass. 
 The door opened qickly, his mother, 
 
 O dear ! 
 
And rightly he had a cause for some 
 
 fear. 
 My son, if you want to smoke, slie 
 
 said, 
 I'll make a chimney in the top of your 
 
 head. 
 I'll lay the first brick there myself. 
 And taking something from off the 
 
 Fhelf, 
 Every thing for a moment looked very 
 
 dull, 
 Truly he thought she had broken his 
 
 skull. 
 Through life Johnie was blessed with 
 
 wonderous health, 
 A man of great wisdom 'and increas- 
 ing wealth. 
 Happy, contented, respected afar. 
 And boasts of having never smoked a 
 
 cigar. 
 And as he grows older, you will often 
 
 hear him say. 
 Thanks to the uncompleted chimney 
 
 started that day. 
 
 True Wealth. 
 
 Along the dark and upward road. 
 
 As we travel toward the goal. 
 Priceless treasures each may have, 
 
 Though forsaken, poor aad old. 
 Compassion is a little thing. 
 
 And yet it is so great. 
 As to heal the wounded heart. 
 
 And happiness therein create. 
 Many are those who fail to know 
 
 And some though rich and old, 
 
 6 
 
Tliat loving words will melt the stone 
 That is crushing out the soul. 
 
 A pleasant smile is very '^lieap, 
 
 But tlie bliss it brings 
 Is more than gold unto the soul, 
 
 Loaded down with sorrow's scings. 
 There never was one in poverty, 
 
 Who forever must remain, 
 Bereft of all the priceless gifts, 
 
 That Providence did ordain. 
 
 He with his store of bullion, 
 
 Is not near so rich a man, 
 As he with loving heart 
 
 And gentle words at his command 
 
 Then never plead of poverty. 
 
 For 'tis our lot alone; 
 To be the richest one on earth, 
 
 Or tlie poorest e'er known. 
 
 Prank Players Take Warning 
 
 Cliildren are often up to tricks, 
 
 And the pleasure they gain 
 Sometimes causes another. 
 
 To bear useless pain. 
 Little pranks that are played 
 
 Untold harm has done. 
 By friglitening another party. 
 
 Just for innocent fun. 
 
 I relate this story 
 
 To demonstrate the truth, 
 It happened at my home. 
 
 When I was « youth. 
 My brother and I were at different 
 schools, 
 
He'd bet'ii gone three months or 
 more. 
 That Friday night 1 went home 
 As often had done before. 
 
 The chilly winds were blowing, 
 
 And the moon w^as shining briglit, 
 Wlien I greeted my parents, 
 
 On that clear cold night. 
 We enjoyed the social chat. 
 
 Until the sleepy eyes of some, 
 Informed us that the hour. 
 
 Of bedtime had come. 
 
 Reveling in peacefal sleep 
 
 In my brother's room. 
 Unconcious that midnight's hour 
 
 Would seal my fatal doom. 
 From sweet slumber I was awakened 
 
 By a sound at the window shutter 
 All alone in the front upstairs. 
 
 Not a single sound dared I utter. 
 
 O'er the bay window I distinctly saw 
 
 The shaddowT form of a man, 
 And through my active frightened 
 brain. 
 
 Ghostly visions ran. 
 I saw^ him enter the open window, 
 
 And draw^ the curtains apart. 
 Every effort was baffled, 
 
 To still my throbbing heart. 
 He slolly advanced toward the spot 
 
 Where I was trembling with fright. 
 In the solitary chamber 
 
 On a fearful winter night. 
 If a noise I had dared to make, 
 
 No one would come to my relief 
 I would surely be the victim, 
 8 
 
Of a murderer or a theif. 
 I longed for a defensive weapon, 
 
 But all to no effect, 
 There were jewels in the room, 
 
 Which was my duty to protect. 
 He steathly approached the bed 
 
 Where I was feigning sleep, 
 But dreaming of my parent's fate. 
 
 Who were plunged in slumber deep. 
 He paused, I thought to drug me. 
 
 Bat in compliance with my prayers, 
 He retreated through the door. 
 
 And began to desend the stairs. 
 No sconer had he left the room, 
 
 Than I cleared he window with a 
 bound, 
 Aud the ladder upon which he climbed 
 
 I lowered to the ground. 
 Endeavoring to deter his pursuit, 
 
 But was a foolish scheme, 
 That he cold leap as well as I, 
 
 I did not even dream. 
 Clad in night attire 
 
 Where the chilly winds did blow, 
 I never felt tlie stinging cold 
 
 With bare feet in the snov/. 
 I didn't stop to think of weather. 
 
 Nor with my appearance did bother, 
 There were robbers in the house, 
 
 I called unto my father. 
 He believed it was a vision, 
 
 But responded to the call 
 Just in time to realize 
 
 That theves were in the hall. 
 He came down the kitchen stairs. 
 
 And then crossing the floor ^ 
 Just as he seized a sturdy chair. 
 
 Before him opened the door. 
 
I liearcl a crasli, tliero was no iight^ 
 
 All I could see was black. 
 "O father !'" came the terrific cry, 
 
 Then I knew my brother wa.s back. 
 He intending to surprise us 
 
 When the morning came. 
 Approached his room through thc- 
 window^ 
 
 But it proved a dangerous gam.ey 
 He would have met iiis fate 
 
 Had he been an incli nigher. 
 By the tremendous blow 
 
 From our venerable sire. 
 
 A promineont gash several inches long. 
 
 The door case adorning, 
 In my father's house remains 
 
 To prank players a warning. 
 He will remember the experience 
 
 And not repeat the game 
 Although our parents think 
 
 My brother was not to blame. 
 Often tricks are played 
 
 And no harm is done 
 But at the very best 
 
 It is an extravagent fun. 
 
 Is Life a Dream. 
 
 The mother placed the flow^ers 
 
 On the grave of her only son 
 And bitterly wept as she said : 
 
 •'May God's will be done." 
 My treasure is taken away 
 
 And why am I left alive, 
 There is nothing on earth 
 
 Now for which to strive. 
 She tliought of the Holy Bible, 
 
 The crucifix was seen, 
 10 
 
And in "her anguish she spid, 
 
 "Oh, life is only a dream," 
 The father nnd husband stood 
 
 By the grave of his child and wife. 
 And counted his toilsome efforts, 
 
 He had made in his earthly strife. 
 How few were the moments of pleasure 
 
 And many the hours of imin. 
 All through life he had experieiiced, 
 
 V7iiile striving a fortune to gain, 
 Fate constantly waxe--^ and waned 
 
 With the ocian's tide it did seem. 
 And he tearfully said, 
 
 "My life has been only a dream."" 
 The grandfather lent on his cane, 
 
 For a moment stood facing the truth 
 He counted the cost of living, 
 
 To an old age from youth. 
 Through many a nolJe battle, 
 
 He had boldly carried his cross, 
 And after casting their sum 
 
 He counted them ail as dross. 
 And his aged eyes with water 
 
 For a moment did gleam, 
 Wliile he muttered these words, 
 
 "Yes, life is only a dream." 
 The Wallstreet miser counted his geld 
 
 And listened to its musical chime, 
 Said he, "The rewards of living 
 
 Are not worth a dime. 
 If out of life I could take it with me, 
 
 But I've no use for it where I go, 
 I gather it seeking pleasure, 
 
 It proves only a source of woe. 
 Now I know 'twas a failure, 
 
 To worship the yellow gleam, 
 It has truly revealed the fact 
 
 That life is only a dream. 
 11 
 
The widow said, as slie plaoted 
 
 The rose on her husband's grave, 
 "I'm all alone in the world 
 
 And must strive to be brave, 
 Tho' object of devotion gone 
 
 On w^hich her life was bent, 
 As she recalled happy moments 
 
 More deeply her heart was rent. 
 As the tombstone reflected 
 
 These words of scriptural theme, 
 She struggled to stifle the utterance 
 
 Of life is only a dream. 
 The aged christian reflected 
 
 Knowing life was nearing its last 
 "I've neither honor or riches. 
 
 But I'm satisfied with the past. 
 To travel the same road over 
 
 Doing the best I know, 
 I believe that [ should enjoy 
 
 Again through life to go. 
 For by my accomplished efforts 
 
 And eternities hopeful beam, 
 I've intuitive solved the mystery 
 
 That life is more than a dream. 
 
 13 
 
Life's DriH. 
 
 Life's Drill is composed of live girls and fivo boys. 
 The girls, Perfection, Love, Obedipnce, Pntience and 
 Honesty should he arrayed in white robes. Perfection, the 
 queen, wearing a wreath, or crown, upon her head, leads 
 and introduces her angles. 
 
 The boys are Evil, Hatred, Slothfuhiess, Jealousy and 
 Dishonesty, Evil, the king, blackened and wearing horns 
 is more hedeons than the rest. He introduces his servants, 
 who should be arrayed in shirtvS and panfaloons of various 
 colors. 
 
 The inarch through the hall, or room, can be varied 
 according to taste. The first stationary position is with 
 Perfection at the head of her angels iii the first row, while 
 in the rear rov7 is Evil and his servants, far enough back 
 to be partly shadowed. 
 
 Perfection.— "Behold ail virtue blended in oneness! 
 I inspire humanity with tiie art of God and the harmony 
 of Heaven. The highest attainsnents, the grandest con- 
 ceptions and the noblest achievements are mine. Woed by 
 love, accomplished by obedience, perfected by patience, 
 and enobled by honesty, I point and lead to supnrnal 
 relms. With pleasure I introduce my angel. Love." 
 
 Love. — "In me you will find the first and greatest 
 commandment ever given by the Deity ; and the second 
 like unto the first is embodied in me: 'Love thy neighbor 
 as thyself.' In the sunlight and in the dewdrop; in the 
 blooming fiowers and singing birds ; in the golden grain 
 and ripening fruit, alike in all nature I reign supreme. 
 Though often I am detlironed in the minds of mankind yet 
 without me you can never know Perfection. ' ' 
 
 Perfection.— "If you love me yDu will obey me. Then 
 next to love is my angel, Obedience." 
 
 Obedience.- "Upon the battlefield the well decipliued 
 soldier I march to victory and glory. Through disobedience 
 rebellion in heaven was wrought and angels of light were 
 transformed to deamons of darkness. I am the first law of 
 
 13 
 
nstnre, existing alike in tho aSoui luul in the solr.r systenj, 
 constsiilly workin out the gifat Designer's will. I point 
 the perfect way to all, though liarces per].s[j or sparrows 
 fail. All that is maguificient in motion, sublime in mag- 
 nitude, is grand in the crdor of obcdietiee. " 
 
 P. — "Tlie next is n)y uncomplaining angel Patience." 
 
 Patience.— "My highest ideal is the crucifix upon 
 which the Prince of Glory died. My destiny is the ever- 
 lasting happiness and eternal peace. I foil besetting tri- 
 bulations, and as a goddess I aui worshiped by those who 
 know rae. I ph^ad with the wr.yward, sooth the sick, 
 rally the discouraged, sympathize with the sorrowing and 
 inspire a heavenly hope by my faithful adherence to duty. 
 You will find me in both skill and labor. I am eternal in 
 the sculpture's chisel, the artist's pencil, the surgeon's 
 knife, the sexton's spade, the mechanic's drill, the seam- 
 stress' needle and the statesman's pen. From the spinning 
 of the spider's web to the laying of the Atlantic cable I 
 point the way to success. I probe the mysteries of science 
 and am visible in all wonderful achievements " 
 
 P. — "Not least in my leagon, " (pointing to Honesty,) 
 "is this undispensable factor. Honesty." 
 
 Honesty. — "I establish a confidence that cannot be 
 bartered. I command the etherial atmosphere and elevate 
 my subjecrs above earthliness. I inspire a selfrespect in 
 comparison to which gold and worldl}^ treasures are bnt 
 worthless dross. If I be absent in the mechanism of hu- 
 manity, it matters not what splendors may encircle or 
 honors may accompany all, is a failure awaiting timely 
 disclosure. We have been rightly taught that an honest 
 man is the noblest work of God." 
 
 The second march brings the boys in front and the girls 
 in the rear. 
 
 Evil.— "Concentrated in me are all the sorrows of the 
 human race. My servants haunt all individuals, and gain 
 a foothold upon every accessable mind. Here you behold 
 only four of my servants, but in the structure of my king- 
 
 14 
 
dom there are lesions whose mission it is to work hnvoc 
 and ruin. From the first period of responsibility I sae 
 that every one is constantly visited alike, the young and 
 old, the rich and poor, tlie great and small, and almost mi- 
 exceptionally somewhere in their lives mv kingdom is es- 
 tablished. I venture to introduce my servaut, Hatr3d. 
 Have you ever met liim before?" 
 
 Hatred. — "TJie kingdom of Satan is established in me, 
 and revenge is an offspring of which I am proud. I per- 
 petuate tlie most blood curdling deeds and foster the vilest 
 conceptions. My habitation is in tiie minds of those who 
 will tolerate me. 'Tis there I build my home and rear 
 my young. " 
 
 Evil. — "My second servant, like unto tlie first, has 
 jftea been met with before. I will introduce Slothfulness. " 
 
 Slothfulness.— "Carelessness and idleness like unto me 
 are chosen tools of Evil. When precision and industry are 
 forsaken, I goad myself and grasping the opportunity, by 
 mischievous devices, I lead my victims downward until 
 they are branded as subjects of our king Evil. Pass 
 through the prison and behold in the multitud my liandi- 
 .w ork. ' ' 
 
 Evil.— "Fortunate is that being Vv ho never met with my 
 servant, Jealousy." 
 
 Jealousy. — "I am the wizzard from the infernal world. 
 I glory in tlie eruption of homes, and in the anguish of my 
 victims, and in the wounds I inflict. My mission is to in- 
 cite husband against wife, brother against sister, lover 
 against sweetheart. I ignore the good and disdain the 
 pure. The precepts of sin I scatter regardless of results. 
 Like a roaring lion I traverse the earth seeking whom I 
 may devour. ' ' 
 
 Evil. — "I crush personal respect and bar the road to 
 success by my servant, Dishonesty." 
 
 Dishonesty. — "Who is more alert and active than I? 
 Yet no one ever prospers who listens to my suplications, 
 dictations or commandments. Then why do men obey me? 
 
 15 
 
I guild the way to success by pliautoms and hire ti.e 
 millions to woe a distruction. I leave my victims pining 
 in dnngeous to repent at leasure, while I langli at tl;e. 
 m^isery I have wrought. Beginning with trifles and end- 
 ing with importance I have hjarded illbegotten weahh 
 since time first began." — [Exit] 
 
 Miss Ethers Reply. 
 
 That dark eyed man to liis bethrothed 
 Upheld the suitor of earthly worth. 
 And gloried in the flusli that told 
 The secret of a lover's soul. 
 
 In reply the maiden stood. 
 The image of true womanhood. 
 Wounded, though, she bade him hear, 
 Tu language plain and accents clear. 
 
 "Trne, lie is a millionare, 
 But do you think I stoop to care? 
 I am not bartered by gold or fame, 
 Were he England's prince, 'twould be 
 the same. 
 
 "Tis merit alone that does enhancs, 
 With fame and fortune I take my 
 
 chance, 
 And center affection on true worth, 
 Not hoarded wealth or royal birth. 
 "Vast fields of grain belong to liim, 
 And tracts of land and castles dim ; 
 Equipage and servants at his command 
 But they cannot buy Miss Ethel's hand. 
 "From the repulsive thought I turn 
 
 away. 
 And my heart it seems to stray 
 To the object of true worth 
 That gave my affections birth. ' ' 
 
 16 
 
ETHEL M. JOHNSTON 
 Negation 
 
This declaration made so strong, 
 Repulsed each thouglit, though liar- 
 
 Dored long. 
 What liappened then we all may guess, 
 For words alone fail to express. 
 
 The Woolen Mills, 
 
 Remindful of the grim dark prison of 
 old, 
 
 Of which ghostly visions are told, 
 
 How martyrs suffered and patriots bled 
 
 And the dungeons bespattered with 
 
 blood are still red ; 
 The woolen mill at the end of town, 
 Like one of these hideous spectrals is 
 
 found. 
 Chained and locked is the fettered door 
 Where a chil] awaits to cover o'er 
 The forms which enter tlie walls which 
 
 glare, 
 As if haunted by ghosts who wrere 
 
 lurking there. 
 Towering on one side above the mill, 
 Is a perpendicular, rocky, moss grown 
 
 hill. 
 As though nature scorned the laborer's 
 
 doom. 
 And sought to bury them in a living 
 
 tomb, 
 From the western side, on a summer 
 
 day, 
 Where the waters with the sunshine 
 
 play. 
 From Salem, Albany, Corvallis, Eugene 
 Passing through the locks these boats 
 
 may be seen : 
 The Lang, Ruth and Modoc, at will, 
 
 17 
 
Load and unload at the woolen mill. 
 The seething waters from the pictur- 
 esque falls, 
 Yield their power to t]ie mill and 
 
 splash on its walls. 
 Then these Willamette waters, with 
 
 the Columbia combined. 
 Flow toward the ocean in freedom mi- 
 
 confined. 
 By the features of each inmate 
 Can be traced a resignition to fate. 
 And all labor with thoughtful care, 
 Though no penal law has placed them 
 
 there, 
 As a bee in a hive his mission knows 
 And strictly on his business goes. 
 Or as the architect of a coral strand, 
 Where each alone for himself must 
 
 stand, 
 Is found the laborers of the mill, 
 Each striving alone his place to fill. 
 Marvel you, how tlie wool is brought 
 
 there. 
 And leaves the mill ready to wear. 
 Whether sheared from the sheep, or 
 
 still on its hide, 
 Ready to be picked, or washed or dyed. 
 Frank is hard at labor here, 
 Supporting his mother and sister dear. 
 High ambitions in life he once laid, 
 But as soon as he entered the sixth 
 
 grade. 
 Poverty compelled them against their 
 
 will. 
 To end his schooling and send him to 
 
 the mill. 
 He pulls the wool from the rotten hide, 
 
 18 
 
He'd endure the stench though he died, 
 While his sickening heart turns away, 
 To tJie all important "pay day." 
 Wool from the East, wool from the 
 
 West, 
 Wool of the finest, wool of the best. 
 Wool from the patriotical sheep, 
 Whose mutton sailed the stormy deep, 
 Embalmed, pressed and mixed with 
 
 the beef. 
 And sent to the soldiers in need of 
 
 relief. 
 Wool from the leaders of the flock, 
 Who trace their pedegree back to the 
 
 ark. 
 Wool from the offsrings of that ram 
 Caught by the horns for Abraham, 
 When Isaa-c was on the alter lain, 
 Awaiting the knife with which to be 
 
 slain. 
 All to be carded and spun into cloth 
 
 of the best. 
 Measured, stitched, folded and pressed 
 Leaving the mill for the human back. 
 Not even a buckle or button to lack. 
 A stranger entering the office door. 
 And guided along from floor to floor. 
 Is reminded of mortals who fell, 
 And invariably looks for a convict's 
 
 cell, 
 And missing the striped garb, might 
 
 ask. 
 If the prisoners were at their daily task 
 For laboring there, if but rightly seen, 
 Under a lash more cruel and keen. 
 Than ever scourged a southern slave. 
 Or courage to the dumb brute gave, 
 
 19 
 
Is many a parent and child perhaps, 
 Continuously watching the day elapse, 
 Trembling with fear, lest lack of care 
 Should mark a fine on the record there, 
 The blow to fall on the home so dear. 
 And forcing back the sifled tear, 
 With the thought of the little ones 
 
 to guard, 
 Beyond his strength he labors hard 
 To enhance the home, keep the in- 
 mates fed, 
 Thus spurned to the task he earns 
 
 their bread. 
 Watchng each occupation there, 
 Now the warp they quickly prepare, 
 The individual fibers, side by side, 
 With nimble fingers the knots are tied, 
 Automatically the w^ork seems to be 
 
 done, 
 Thus constant practice, prefection has 
 
 won. 
 The moments, hour and day wear by, 
 How Tom's fingers, they do fly 1 
 The large wheel turns around and 
 
 around, 
 On the wheel the warp is closely 
 
 wound, 
 Cotton, silken and mohair strands. 
 Passing through the laborer's hands. 
 On the large wheel mark their way, 
 In one declaration seem to say, 
 ' ' The richest gift to human kind 
 Is a will of fate resigned. " 
 Every where found, Tom is the same, 
 Many an order is proud of his name, 
 For fellowship with mortal man. 
 In the leading circles of the land, 
 
 20 
 
A place of trust, reserved is there, 
 Which Tom fills with worthy care. 
 Soon he'll leave the dreary mill, 
 And light his pipo and climb the hill, 
 Slowly, slowly up the steep ascent, 
 On his precious boys his heart is bent. 
 From the boarding house gleams a 
 
 light, 
 His pace is quickened by the sight. 
 Soon two motherless babes will sink 
 
 to rest 
 Reclining on their parent's breast. 
 Near by the goods swing from a scaf- 
 fold high. 
 Each flaw is examined by a critical 
 
 eye. 
 Now the girls in the "drawing-in- 
 
 room" know their trade, 
 And mend the holes that are partly 
 
 made, 
 For when paid by the day, though no 
 
 work can be found, 
 'Tis wise to be busy when the "boss" 
 
 comes around. 
 The variety of machinery operated 
 
 here, 
 A Chinese prison might leave in the 
 
 rear. 
 For stretching, twisting and adjusting 
 
 the wear, 
 As the criminals of the prison are 
 
 extorted there. 
 Through numerous machines each 
 
 piece now goes. 
 Whose needful improvement its man- 
 ager knows. 
 Dick, throughout his lenial race, 
 
 21 
 
For generations back can trace. 
 The highest desire was to fill 
 An important place at the wooln mill. 
 So early training has taken root, 
 And in coming years has born its fruit, 
 And it can be most plainly seen 
 That Dick is devotd to his machine. 
 'Tis thus a long communion tends, 
 In giving rise to mutual friends. 
 Master of liis alotted task. 
 Nothing better does he ask, 
 Its own peculiar function to fill. 
 In perfect obedience to his will. 
 Daily connection with his machine. 
 Has wrought a fellowship unseen. 
 Having gained his great desire. 
 Contented now with nothing higlier, 
 The mill to him is his only theme, 
 And satisfaction reigns supreme. 
 Each consecutive piece through the 
 
 process goes. 
 Whose important improvement it 
 
 readily shows. 
 When all is completed and perfectly 
 
 right, 
 The goods are jiermitted to pass from 
 
 sight. 
 They disappear through a small door, 
 Consisting of a covered hole in the 
 
 floor, 
 Where each in succession follows the 
 
 path. , 
 To the room below where it takes its 
 
 bath. 
 Next we enter the long dark room 
 Filled with many a noisy loom. 
 In boyhood days from fortune barred, 
 
 22 
 
Alone ill life he labored hard, 
 Through perseverance he strove to 
 
 excel , 
 By fompleting each aiidertaking well 
 V/ith modest pride he does confess, 
 He owes this secret to his success. 
 Now "boss" of the VN-eavers see him 
 
 stpiid 
 To instruct and to conimand, 
 Posfc-essor of foresight, strength, and 
 
 skill 
 Master of a determined will. 
 No two ways with him you know, 
 But every thread to its place must go. 
 A princely conrt v.ell miglit he grace, 
 But none of the mill con Id take his 
 
 place. 
 Near the door on a little stool, 
 Winding the threads on a spool, 
 Is a neat and pretty little girl. 
 Whose lips when part show rows of 
 
 pearl, 
 With a saucy little nose, 
 Cheeks like velvet from the rose, 
 Sparkling eyes like diamonds shine, 
 Through the silkt^ii lashes fine. 
 With her brown and braided hair, 
 A duchess could not be more fair, 
 Waiting on all here in the mill. 
 Not one moment is she still. 
 Nannie is the maiden's name, 
 Many say it is a shame 
 To pen inside a prison wall 
 One intended for a castle hall. 
 Free from malice, envy, strife, 
 And all the baneful things of life, 
 Through the mill now here, now there, 
 
 23 
 
Scattering sunshine evrey where, 
 
 To the shadowy brain and clouded 
 
 heart, 
 An angel's light she must impart. 
 With gentle ways and robust health, 
 For the possession of true wealth, 
 The woolen mill could not compete, 
 With Nannie's disposition sweet. 
 In the center of this long room 
 Stands Betsy, attentative to her loom. 
 Weaving the blankets that will find a 
 
 bed, 
 In the Countess' chamber or plieasant's 
 
 shed. 
 Intent in completing another one. 
 Before the whistle blows and the 
 
 day's work is done. 
 Renewing her eiforts toward the last. 
 While her meager earnings, she doe? 
 
 cast. 
 She watches the fibers one by one, 
 From the time it began, till the 
 
 blanket is done. 
 Fearing tlireads will be broken or 
 
 missing there, 
 Consigning the goods to damaged 
 
 wear. 
 Just as life's fibers are laid you know, 
 While rapid into the future we go. , 
 And without thought or prayerful care 
 Our lives are consigned to the damaged 
 
 wear. 
 All colors of the rainbow seen,, 
 Red, crimson, purple and green. 
 The yellow of jealousy plain to behold. 
 As in our lives it is always bold ; 
 Now and then the stripeings of blue 
 
 24 
 
-■"■ 
 
 ■ 
 
 i 1- 
 
 jam--' 
 
 
 KT.. 
 
 
 BOSS OF THE WEAVERS METZNER 
 Decision 
 
Remind us that sometimes mortals are 
 
 true, 
 And the white blanket, as spotless as 
 
 snow, 
 As beginning or ending is striped you 
 
 know, 
 The warp now expands like a flash 
 
 to be seen, 
 Then catches the thread as it dodges 
 
 between, 
 Whatever color the shuttle may bear. 
 Is quickly woven into the wear. 
 Be it the dark instead of the light, 
 Or the wrong instead of the right. 
 To retrace the work and tear out the 
 
 spot, 
 Is the hardest part of a weaver's lot. 
 Thus through life as we move along, 
 The hardest thing is t« right the 
 
 wrong. 
 The weaver now standing in thought- 
 ful devotion. 
 Seems to partake of perpetual motion 
 With the whirling spindles, and belts, 
 
 and wheels, 
 And shafts, and bars, and glittering 
 
 steels, 
 That moment by moment, and hour 
 
 by hour. 
 Seem to feel their resistless power, 
 Realizing the importance of exacting 
 
 pace; 
 For anxious to fill each vacant place, 
 Is a multitude greater than the leathers 
 
 and steels 
 That mend the broken belts and 
 
 wheels. 
 
 25 
 
The rich man upon this spot, 
 
 By curiosity may be brought, 
 
 And for explanations idiy ask 
 
 Of the laborers at their manual task ; 
 
 With shrug of slioulders he might 
 
 spurn 
 The thouglit of stooping thus to learn. 
 One year's advance may scarcely pass 
 When brought to want by fortune's 
 
 blast. 
 And his precious darling is forced to 
 
 fill, 
 Betsy's place there at the mill. 
 If bent or twisted or broken in twain 
 The machinery is quickly mended 
 
 again, 
 By the loom fixer who answers there. 
 Knows what is wrong and how to 
 
 repair. 
 With hammer and wrench and bolt 
 
 and strap, 
 He seeius to be ready for any mishap 
 That might be the terrible doom, 
 And settle upon the unlucky loom. 
 A place with records he might fill, 
 Along with the doctor with surgical 
 
 skill, 
 The surgeon who dissects the heart 
 And joins the bones that are broken 
 
 apart. 
 And truly impossible it is to die. 
 If his presencce is but nigh. 
 From the chaos of tissues and muscles 
 
 of men 
 He reunites and he breathes again. 
 Successfully thus the man at the mill 
 Cures the loom of its every ill ; 
 
By tearing apart and putting together 
 Be it in wood, or steel or leather. 
 It is twelve o'clock, the lever is thrown 
 For the whistle has just now blown, 
 Echoing its message clear and shrill 
 For the hungry toilers of the mill; 
 Blending into one harmonious sound 
 Its melodies which circumferecne the 
 
 town ; — 
 That the bread of labor is sweet, 
 And those who toil have a right to eat. 
 On the pavement is heard the patter 
 
 of feet, 
 The lunch baskets transmit a savor 
 
 sweet, 
 From the warm coffee waiting impat- 
 iently there, 
 Its aroma escapes on the redolent air; 
 Little Elsie, a brunette of Scottish 
 
 decent, 
 On her brothers and father her eyes 
 
 are now bent. 
 The lark in his ariel flight, 
 Never possessed a heart so light. 
 Prattling children, and birds and 
 
 flowers, 
 Are heaven's gift to this dark world 
 
 of ours. 
 When the door swings to the whistle's 
 
 call 
 She trips inside the gloomy wall. 
 Of her musical talent her steps seem 
 
 to partake, 
 As the blue bells bloom for Scotland's 
 
 sake; 
 And a Brace or a Wallace might strive 
 
 to trace 
 
 37 
 
The long lost crown of the subjected 
 
 race 
 Borne by her parents o'er ihe salt 
 
 water strand 
 To find a grave in freedom land, 
 Where many a Douglas has bravely 
 
 shown 
 He prized his country's blood more 
 than his own. 
 The "boss pro tern" now rules the 
 
 room, 
 Throughout the silent hour of noon. 
 Sublime and powerful is the display. 
 When nature in her wrath gives way. 
 When earth's foundations tremble and 
 
 shake 
 And columns of fire through the moun- 
 tains break ; 
 When the angry ocean lier elements 
 
 combine, 
 The upheaval of nature is always 
 
 sublime. 
 But to see darting across the room, 
 In the direction of an unruly loom, 
 A temper carrying a man away, 
 This unqestionably is the grandest 
 
 display. 
 With an oil can up the ladder is found. 
 Morning and evening making his 
 
 round, 
 Empting the spools and gathering the 
 
 wool, 
 Filling his rolling basket full, 
 Oiling or sweeping or gathering the 
 
 waste, 
 Pus^nng and loading his cart witli 
 haste. 
 
Ijike a kitten at play when smoothly 
 
 all goes, 
 Like a firey eyed demon when he is 
 
 opposed. 
 This fellow can be no other, 
 Than Rip Van Winkle's eldest brother. 
 The next story aboYe where they card 
 
 the w^ool. 
 Of minor boys the room is full. 
 And the marvel is that the school can 
 
 spare 
 So many children peued in there. 
 In a nation which bears the name 
 And prides herself in asserting the 
 
 same ; — 
 That armies and navies she need not 
 
 collect, 
 Her ward against danger is intelect. 
 For since the new law came into force, 
 All are over fifteen of course, 
 The temptation is greater at prema- 
 ture age 
 To ripen in years at an early stage. 
 Imitating their "boss" as near as they 
 
 can, 
 For he to them is a model man. 
 Perfection truly is their need, 
 In word and thought, as well as deed. 
 Thus let it be, if it be so I 
 Trusting as through life they go. 
 To the highest point they may attain, 
 Like their "boss" and there remain. 
 World wide allowance for the boy is 
 
 given, 
 In his travels from earth to heaven, 
 For who can make more blunders than 
 
 a boy can, 
 
 29 
 
Unless it be tlie grown up man. 
 Busy is ea,ch little pair of hands 
 Earning the wages its labor demands. 
 Carding the wool, and when it is done, 
 Sent above to where it is spun. 
 The spinner ready to play his part, 
 Master of his allotted art, 
 Twists the ends of the whirling wool, 
 And watches the bobbins unti i they 
 
 are full. 
 The "boss" of the spinners is de- 
 lighted to see 
 The product of his spinning industry. 
 In constant motion is kept every jack, 
 That for filling the weavers may never 
 
 lack. 
 What a consternation would surely 
 
 be there, 
 If he were elected to the executive 
 
 chair. 
 And the mill should retain its boss 
 At the cost of a national loss 
 The spooling girls they gaze below 
 On the crowds that are passing to and 
 
 fro, 
 And by— accident of course it is said. 
 Drop missiles on the unlucky head. 
 Who dares to think these girls would 
 
 try. 
 To catch the glimpse of a stranger's 
 
 eye, 
 High o'er all toward heaven they are. 
 Above the thoughts of the world so far, 
 They fashion fate and make their 
 
 plans, 
 With the whirling spools and twisting 
 
 strans, 
 'Till the whistle bades them leave the 
 
fioor. 
 And freedom is given back once more. 
 There is Olive, Gracie, Estella arid 
 
 Kate, 
 On the cornel' they impatiently wait. 
 To oonntless charms and beauty given, 
 A type of the perfect work of heaven. 
 The light of oonque.st guilds each eye 
 And the transport meets the passer by. 
 "Old Sally," wirh criticism laden, 
 Passing, condemns each pretty maiden, 
 Her evil ear could not be beat 
 For bearing scandal she delights t« 
 
 repeat. 
 In gossip she might put to shame 
 All legal bearers of that name. 
 With jealousy her iieart is wrung, 
 In anger because she isn't young. 
 Down the sidewalk she hastens now 
 Just like a rampageous cow. 
 The dark eyed Assistant joins the 
 
 throng, 
 And homeward slowly m.oves along. 
 A v/axen im.age watch has kept. 
 And on the sidewalk joins his step. 
 An artist's pencil could not trace 
 The contour of a prettier face. 
 Nor lovers flute could not repeat 
 Music that was half so sweet. 
 Few are more able to stand the test, 
 Thau the assistant for an agreeable 
 
 guest. 
 Perhaps lessons in blarney he daily 
 
 acquires 
 From the one holding the position to 
 
 Vviiich he aspires. 
 Whose compliments are unnumbered 
 
 31 
 
nntil cliey appear 
 Vibrations for an angels ear. 
 As the multitude moves «loug, 
 A grizzly being joins the throng. 
 Of detestable things there is none 
 
 which can 
 Compete with a hardened selfish man. 
 His crooked legs and pigeon toes. 
 And pointed chin that meets his nose. 
 Are fit adornments for a heart 
 Condemning nature's noblest art. 
 His eyes glare like a demon that 
 
 would immure 
 All that is holy, good and pure. 
 Slightly remarks, he untruthfully 
 
 hurls. 
 To blot the fair name of the laboring 
 
 girls. 
 The boys in their teens throttle a smile 
 And into the streets in rapidity file. 
 A husband and father recalls the scene 
 With the delight of a fairy dream ; — 
 How his wife, a mill girl, stood there 
 
 one day, 
 And he too, in rapture was carried 
 
 away. 
 Industry and prudence have stamped 
 
 their name, 
 And honor all his features claim. 
 His eyes of a rich and hazel blue 
 Claim kindred with his heart so true. 
 He hastens homeward content with 
 
 his lot. 
 And reverences God for that sacred 
 
 spot. 
 Before the roses bloom and wither 
 
 again 
 
 32 
 
In the autumn winds and November 
 
 rain. 
 Many others may solve the secret un- 
 known 
 Of peace and contentment in homes 
 
 of their own. 
 And each evening the laborer will 
 
 hasten his steps, 
 For he knows that an eager watch is 
 
 kept. 
 Soon he'll fold to his heart the pride 
 
 of his life, 
 And bless the mill for his sainted wife. 
 The tailor room on the second floor 
 Contains twenty machines or more. 
 In two long rows if still unchanged, 
 Stationary to a table they are arranged. 
 Of the sewing boss it is said beware, 
 For intruders are unwelcome there. 
 The seamstress with her dextrous hand. 
 Guides the goods at her command. 
 With pressure of foot she catches the 
 
 speed, 
 Each seamstress now is thoughtful 
 
 indeed. 
 A sightless whirl and a singing buzz, 
 While its work the machinery does. 
 Into a circling path or a straighter one, 
 It stitches the garment until it is done. 
 One piece more is now laid by, 
 Ready to meet the critic's eye; 
 Just as the cassimere is held to the 
 
 liglit, 
 To see that every thread is right 
 If a fiber thought of going estray 
 A pair of black eyes would trace its 
 
 way, 
 
 33 
 
And mark a fine for the wayward 
 
 thread 
 Before the forbidden road it tread. 
 Sophists and chemists have failed to 
 
 find 
 That w^hich neither is matter nor 
 
 neither is mind ; 
 Bat this one truly —if any one can 
 Discern the immortal soul of man, 
 So the tailor "boss" examines the work 
 Leaving no chance for duty to shirk. 
 As though the welfare of the men 
 Who wore these garments might 
 
 depend 
 Wholly apon the perfect sight, 
 That set every thread aright. 
 Fearing througli life as they bear tlieir 
 
 load, 
 While following some meandering 
 
 road, 
 A crooked seam might mark their way, 
 And they thereby be lead estray. 
 So the garments are shaped and fash- 
 ioned there, 
 Just as tlie Sandal plion guides each 
 
 prayer. 
 Lest after modeling after a blunder 
 
 there 
 In this life of worldly care, 
 A crooked seam like an erring path 
 Might invoke eternal wrath. 
 The coat and the sleeves are waiting 
 
 there 
 For one individual piece of wear. 
 Worthless is each detached from the 
 
 other, 
 And the threaded needle binds them 
 
 34 
 
togather, 
 
 In oneness blended tlirough life should 
 be found 
 
 As the bride and the groom at the 
 alter are bound. 
 
 If brighter and newer goods were in 
 range 
 
 Immagine tlie coat its sleeves to ex- 
 change, 
 
 But it is no uncommon thing 
 
 For the bride to exchange her wedding 
 ring. 
 
 Though the coat be greatly damaged 
 what matter, 
 
 To overlook the stain and mend the 
 tatter. 
 
 Although it be mutual who would 
 not command 
 
 It much more tiian the fearful rend. 
 
 And both be upheld to a world of sport 
 
 By the talior's shears or the circuit 
 court. 
 
 As little dye turns the white, 
 
 So little motives change the light. 
 
 The wool receives its color by the ap- 
 plication of dyes, 
 
 Just as the wary culprit deeply hid- 
 den lies. 
 
 Changing tlie former stains each time 
 through the dye it has passed 
 
 By consecutive dips imprtoing a 
 deeper cast. 
 
 Like life's procession though the 
 purest it contains, 
 
 Little escapes from the dye exempt 
 from the stains. 
 
 Deeper and deeper are the shades of 
 
 35 
 
the pink. 
 As the wool into the boiling liquids 
 
 sink. 
 In succession follow vicumina, brown 
 
 and blue 
 The purple giving the Bishop's robe 
 
 its hue. 
 Teaching though the inclination of 
 
 mortal men 
 Is to do an act of kindness to a friend ; — 
 Yet unto him who does aspire 
 To reach a point that still is higher. 
 To an enemy, he will condescend 
 To do him good as well as a friend. 
 The wool into the boiling liquid lie 
 While the heat adjusts the fadeless 
 
 (lye, 
 As the known and the unknown are 
 
 united complete 
 By the application of attention, 
 
 "mental heat" 
 Wool of ravea black from this room 
 
 is passed. 
 Only a tarnished name bearing a 
 
 darker cast. 
 The minerals yield to change her hue 
 With golden threads the wear is 
 
 stamped through. 
 As the gold democrats from Bryan 
 
 drew 
 Important though they seem but few, 
 Free silver met her fatal doom 
 And nineteen hundred closed her tomb. 
 Escaping from her well made grave 
 She marks the cassimere with a silver 
 
 wave. 
 Now there is a mixture upon tlie floor 
 
 36 
 
Of some new dyes untried before. 
 As in government the Socialist 
 Would like to experiment in this. 
 Other wool receives the dye anew 
 Changing but not improving the hue. 
 As those who strive all ills to cnre, 
 And a populist he comes out sere. 
 So the wool receives its chosen cast 
 When lastly through the dye it has 
 
 passed. 
 As 'tis woman's privilege to instill 
 Her chosen principles at will, 
 Long before man's natal hour, 
 Unchanged by any earthly power;— 
 Yet who would blame tj woman's 
 
 hand 
 The blended colors of each stand. 
 Though Adam led by tempting Eve, 
 The tree of falsehood did conceive. 
 And branches from irs productive root 
 In abundance yield their fruit. 
 Woman need not wish to raise her 
 
 hand 
 To wrench the septer from mortal man. 
 On that platform written by angels 
 
 above 
 His neighbor has himself to love. 
 No restitution nsed be made 
 By the variation of any shade. 
 Thus the dye is applied aright 
 Or th wool retains its spotless white. 
 Now a shapeless mass of wool is here 
 Just such a havoc does appear, 
 When uncurbed, the anarchist hand. 
 With total ruin marks tiie land. 
 On the basement floor the blankets go 
 around, 
 
 37 
 
Here they are burled, carded and 
 
 bound. 
 Peculiarly arranged are the teasels 
 
 there, 
 Acting their part in coropletiug the 
 
 wear. 
 Polly is there along with the rest. 
 Eager to learn and doing her best. 
 Each pair now is carefully bound, 
 And they seem to be soft as eiderdown. 
 Polly is but a young girl as >ou see, 
 Reared in a home of luxury. 
 Much more so tlian you usually find, 
 And ignorant of labor of any kind. 
 As society's out cast, for work she 
 
 must roam, 
 Her mother's death having ruined her 
 
 home. 
 Witliout a trade no place could she fill. 
 Until the carding boss made room at 
 
 the mill. 
 Who knows but the blanket that Polly 
 
 burls today, 
 Across the blue ocean may find its 
 
 way. 
 As an Englishman's luggage while on 
 
 foreign soil does roam, 
 Help to drive the Boors from their 
 
 productive home. 
 You may be buried and your little girl 
 Perhaps with pretty Polly the blankets 
 
 may burl. 
 Longer hours they are compelled to 
 
 see, 
 Under a "Boss" less kind than he. 
 Not like the one at present is there, 
 In all his exactions honest and fair, 
 
 38 
 
But a "Boss "that isiinjiist and brutal 
 
 too, 
 And harder labor the girls are com- 
 pelled to do. 
 There is a room in the basement rear, 
 Where you will find the engineer. 
 At the entrance is stationed a guard, 
 Just as the gates of heaven are barred 
 By Michael, they say, who letting 
 
 one stare, 
 But having no absolute business there, 
 Looks toward the sign as one draws 
 
 near 
 Of "positively no admittance here." 
 We are forced to applaud his constant 
 
 devotion 
 That so wonderously blends mind, 
 
 matter and motion. 
 Now just as the driving wheel's weight 
 Determines the engine's speed, 
 So the weight and depth of our pur- 
 pose, 
 Determines whether we shall succeed. 
 And men who feed the furnace, 
 When tlieir hearts cease to throb, 
 We hopL^ throughout eternity, 
 Will discontinue their joK 
 For such awfol fires as these men do 
 
 baild. 
 With soot, smoke and ashes the long 
 
 chimneys have filled, 
 Successfully blackening the read for 
 
 many a weary day, 
 So that down the fluess Santa Claus 
 
 never found his way. 
 Ending at the beginning, prom aading 
 
 around and around, 
 
 39 
 
The dreaded "boss of the bosses'' 
 
 the superiDtendent is found. 
 And the lucky employees are sure to 
 
 remove from sight. 
 When they see him coming, all tliat 
 
 isn't right. 
 Many may know of his excelence in 
 
 presenting a toast. 
 But more know by experience that he 
 
 can deliver a roast. 
 So the laborers when they see him 
 
 coming, in sincerity they pray, 
 That the damaged goods will dodge 
 
 his eye and he'll loeaceably go v^ay. 
 As soon as his back is turned, 'tis 
 
 doubtful what they think. 
 But the employees of tlie woolen mill, 
 
 are none too good to wink. 
 The sagacious superintendent, predes- 
 tinated that place to fill. 
 And his efforts marked with shrewd- 
 ness, guard each interest of the mill. 
 Murky and misty from mud, rain and 
 
 sleet, 
 For disagreeableness the day could 
 
 not be beat. 
 Nature's elements combined seemed 
 
 to delight 
 In hiding the goddess of justice on 
 
 the court house from sight. 
 And the spires that should glitter 
 
 with a weclome sheen. 
 Like the rest of the town shrank from 
 
 being seen. 
 Down the steps the shivering mill 
 
 hands press. 
 Each trying in rapidity to preceed 
 
 40 
 
the rest. 
 For iJie great railroad bell said " iiiig 
 
 dong, ding dong, 
 Clear the track in a moment the train 
 
 will be long. " 
 Yet before the swiftest had gone half 
 
 of the way, 
 The engine rushing by seemed mock- 
 ingly to say : 
 "Corporations and trusts are increas- 
 ing in mi gilt, 
 And monopoly claims a limitless 
 
 right." 
 Slowly across the track the long 
 
 freight train keeps going, 
 As from the arteries of commerce the 
 
 life bloody. was flowing. 
 Increasing in magnitude, more and 
 
 more, 
 On through nature's channels in a 
 
 ceaseless pour. 
 Into regions obscure she dauntlessly 
 
 probed, 
 Until freely her life blood encircles 
 
 the globe. 
 With one final halt the train blocks 
 
 the path. 
 Just as the quarter whistle expostu- 
 lates in wrath : 
 "No excuse for being late, lost job 
 
 or docked pay," 
 A petition was acknowledged for 
 
 clearing the highway. 
 Like ants a barrier trying to surmount, 
 Above, below, through, around and 
 
 about. 
 Thoughtless now of the petition what 
 
 41 
 
had become of it, 
 Could it snugly a pocket or pigeon 
 
 hole fit. 
 Making their way at all hazzard, 
 
 knowing their fate 
 Would compel them to suffer should 
 
 they dare to be late. 
 The laborers press forward, that arc 
 
 able to climb 
 And in wrathful remembrance make 
 
 up for lost time. 
 Before the mixing of the morter 
 That holds the bricks so firmly to 
 
 get her ; 
 When the rocks were in the quarry's 
 
 bed, 
 Unsmeltered was the iron and lead ; 
 The stately tree the forest claimed, 
 Unconstructed was the wooden frame ; 
 The" night watch" in the cradle lay. 
 Busily growing day by day. 
 In the evening, now exerting his lungs 
 
 to expand. 
 In the morning they see him with 
 
 lantern in hand. 
 All believe that his rounds he has 
 
 constantly made, 
 And not even in thought from duty 
 
 strayed. 
 Circumstantial evidence is a witness 
 
 keen, 
 Alike to the high, or lowly, or mean. 
 Scorning to give even clemency rest. 
 Spurning mercy from her immutable 
 
 breast. 
 Always claiming and holding her own, 
 Successful against justice, she ascends 
 
to the tlirone. 
 Circumstantial evidence they say 
 
 don't lie, 
 And as the head men cf the mill 
 
 draw nigh, 
 The broken fragments and pieces of 
 
 glass. 
 Telling how the night missels through 
 
 the window passed. 
 Or something else prehaps may he in 
 
 arrears, 
 And when accompanying the scene the 
 
 "night watch" appears, 
 He knows that for playing hooky the 
 
 most eifectual cure 
 Unqestionably is for tlie penalty to 
 
 endure. 
 So the breaking of the window light. 
 That happened on that memorial night, 
 And the spreading of this general news, 
 Deprived the night watch of his usual 
 
 snooze ; 
 Or for vacation in the long dark night. 
 Forbade him from the mill take flight. 
 Just as each circus has its sideshow, 
 Cjrnered on the first floor is the 
 
 dynamo, 
 'Tis just such a machine as Franklin 
 
 might commend, 
 Like numberless feelers its wires 
 
 extend ; 
 Transmitting the ligiitening in a 
 
 creditable manner, 
 As to represent the firmament or 
 ' ' Star spangled banner. ' ' 
 And there is no part of the mill that 
 
 is hidden from sight, 
 
 43 
 
But what is disclose by the electric 
 
 light. 
 Everywhere is manifested this al 
 
 energizing power ; — 
 In the singing bird, in the blooming 
 
 flower, 
 In the puffing engine, in the rusliiug 
 
 train; 
 In the roaring cataract, in the patter- 
 ing rain, 
 In the sparkling dew drops, in the 
 
 plant that is grown ; 
 In the Aurora bcrealis of tlie 
 
 northern zone. 
 In the solar system, in the comt-t's 
 
 flight. 
 In the cyclonic distruction, and the 
 
 golden sunlight, 
 Is found this electircal phenomena 
 
 and like the mind of man. 
 Is the molucular motion, solve the 
 
 mystery if yon can. 
 Upon the wall on every floor. 
 Stationed in two places or more. 
 May be found an empty pail. 
 And near it hanging upon a nail, 
 A hose smaller than the Atlantic 
 
 Cable, 
 And "fire only" on the wall is labled. 
 But this inscription so tliey say. 
 Does not keep the demon away. 
 The blackened sheds do take a fall, 
 When an insurance covers them all. 
 Wicked would be the chemical load 
 Failing under such circumstances to 
 
 explode. 
 And creating a fire that would make 
 
 44 
 
a clear sweep, 
 Of accumulated rubbish piled around 
 
 so deep. 
 Just calling the fire department from 
 
 town 
 To save the river from being burned 
 
 down. 
 The weary laborers need thirst no 
 
 more, 
 For the pump like a fountain on the 
 
 basement floor, 
 Awaits in submission to any command, 
 Anxious to yield to every hand ; 
 And from nature's treasures hidden 
 
 from sight, 
 pours in abundance her liquid bright. 
 Not from decomposed matters or acids 
 
 'tis made, 
 But distilled in earths refrigerant 
 
 shade. 
 'Tis the drink that gives health, that 
 
 men may live longer. 
 Pleading not to be exchanged for a 
 
 drink that is stronger. 
 They had Vvheeled wool nearly all day, 
 When Pat McOartie led the way ; — 
 They scorned the pump that welcomed 
 
 them, 
 And slyly slipped around the bend, 
 Soon out of sight with ' ' bumpers' ' full : 
 "We'll toast to the men who own 
 
 the wool," 
 Said Mike O'Connor with glass in 
 
 hand. 
 As in the center he took his stand. 
 *'Ye know the blaze that made things 
 
 hum, 
 
 45 
 
And we thought that the jndgniGiit 
 
 day had come, 
 And pitching in we played our part, 
 And got drenched through by tlie old 
 
 hose cart. 
 Because we laid hold and gave them 
 
 a lift 
 The woolen shirts we received as a 
 
 gift; 
 So here is to the proprietors that are 
 
 always away 
 And the two Jpxob boys we see every 
 
 day." 
 Following the example of wayward 
 
 men, 
 To return to earth again, 
 Or liiie an erring tempter which does 
 
 stray 
 And home again does lind its way. 
 Ever ready to leave its station, 
 At the slightest provocation. 
 So the elevator makes its round 
 In its circuit up and down, 
 Subject to the changeable will 
 Of the employees of tlie mill. 
 And few are the laborers who aspire 
 To ascend toward heaven any higher 
 Thau the wool which from the sheep 
 
 is shorn. 
 And in its process upward borne. 
 If nature's laws would change again 
 This subject to the will of men. 
 Such confusion and disorder wrought, 
 would by the fickle minds be brought. 
 Like the elevator starting o'er, 
 To travel up and down once more. 
 In the woolen mill'storehouse guarded 
 
 46 
 
•svith care 
 Is every description of superior wear, 
 For mercliantile biisiuess supplies are 
 
 oil hand, 
 Ready for shipment at any demand. 
 Maccanaw robes and cassimere yon 
 
 find, 
 Blankets and flannels of most every 
 
 kind. 
 Bundled ann bailed, measured and 
 
 pressed. 
 Packages weighing no more or no less ; 
 For the Fairbank scales are universal ly 
 
 believed 
 To tell the whole trutli and not try to 
 
 deceive. 
 Regardless of issue or ensuing fate, 
 Every partical of matter is given its 
 
 weight. 
 Here the stencil plates await their call. 
 Too numerous to count hang on the 
 
 wail. 
 Noted for remembrance of their name, 
 And importing their mark always 
 
 the same. 
 Statistics in books printed and bound, 
 A library of themselves near the office 
 
 is found. 
 Like biographical volums in bulk 
 
 they appear, 
 Filled with designs for the future 
 
 cassimere. 
 Confidential in the ready talent and 
 
 skill. 
 The cassimere awaits the designer's 
 
 will. 
 Whose dextrous hands on improvement 
 
 resolved, 
 
 47 
 
Are from his pockets withdrawn while 
 the iiroblems are solved. 
 
 After effecting designs on the cassi- 
 mere complete, 
 
 They triumphantly into his pockets 
 retreat. 
 
 Soon historical features in tlie goods 
 will be lined, 
 
 In lieu of the checks and circles 
 which w'e now find. 
 
 Reaiiziug as in all trades there is 
 room at the top, 
 
 Ambitions and skill they are sure not 
 to stop. 
 
 Each check and each dot his hands 
 set aright, 
 
 Then back to their hiding they plunge 
 out of sight. 
 
 Jack Frost has improved by knowl- 
 edge gained, 
 
 In his geometrical designs ©n the 
 window pain. 
 
 And plain to be seen by the patterns 
 made, 
 
 His indebtedness to this expert at the 
 designing trade. 
 
 So the goods are fashioned at the 
 woolen mill, 
 
 Like the universe completing a de- 
 signer's will. 
 
 An obligation to cancel with his 
 Eastern friends 
 
 Jones, of San Francisco, some samples 
 sends. 
 
 After examining the wear the mer- 
 chants order more, 
 
 In Brooklyn, Philadelphia and Balti- 
 more. 
 
 48 
 
Universally decided when brought 
 
 to the test, 
 That none could compete with the 
 
 goods of the west. 
 For all woolen wear of every sore, 
 In quantity and quality never fell 
 
 short. 
 The London msrchant strove in vain, 
 But year after year his goods remain ; 
 And to sell them he surely can't. 
 For their wool grows on a cotton plant. 
 Now blessed with prosperity his trade 
 
 does appear, 
 For he sends to Oregon City every year 
 And then patiently waits until 
 He receives his supplies from the 
 
 w^oolen mill. 
 Corporal Dikes his store to fill 
 Met the dark eyed salesman at the mill, 
 And asked to see some damaged wear, 
 Which he stated he could repair ; 
 And retail them for the best, 
 Though they could not stand the test. 
 Here the conversation was broken in 
 
 twain, 
 Uuuttered the other half remained. 
 For the air witli a roaring sound was 
 
 filled, 
 From the wholesale house the only 
 
 one 
 On the planet of Neptune, farthest 
 
 from the sun, 
 ' ' Gentlemen of the woolen mill 
 Of Oregon City please immediately fill 
 Our order at the earliest possible date. 
 Your goods are pure wool recommen- 
 dations state. 
 
 49 
 
Your merchant in Saturn sincerely 
 
 requests 
 To have their bills remembered with 
 
 the rest. ' ' 
 Then the vibrations calmed on the ear. 
 Yet that organ this utterance seemed 
 
 distinctly to hear : 
 "The noblest creation wrought by 
 
 God's hand 
 Is divined in the structure of an honest 
 
 man. 
 King Edward on Coronation day, 
 Might have appeared in neater array, 
 For the woolen mill it never failed, 
 And if good judgment had prevailed, 
 An order might have been sent in there 
 For later styles and better wear. 
 The washing machine scatters its spray 
 In beautiful bubbles which soon pass 
 
 away. 
 The softening of soap which has been 
 
 shipped there. 
 All has its part in completing the wear. 
 But the St Paul dude, or Chicago belle, 
 A wonderful tale of woe might tell, 
 How the taxes they had neglected to 
 
 pay, 
 And their poodle "doggie" was taken 
 
 away. 
 His place with the rest iie does nicely 
 
 fill, 
 In the soap that is shipped to the 
 
 woolen mill. 
 The Sunday school teacher imi^ressed 
 
 on our mind. 
 How the story in the bible we'd find, 
 Of the woman oppressed with toil 
 
 50 
 
striving to sell her measure of oil. 
 How there appeared a magic ' an, 
 And descending on the lucky can, 
 An endless stream of oil there came, 
 Thus enriching the poor dame. 
 For the use of mortal man, 
 At the mill it appears she left the can. 
 In and out of tlie bank, for it is "pay 
 
 day," 
 All are eager to carry their gold away. 
 Honesty to this hank has so often been 
 
 traced, 
 That it leaves its imprint on the 
 
 treasurer's face. 
 The accuracy with which business is 
 
 transacted here. 
 Would do ample credit to any cashier. 
 While the secretary raises his eyes 
 
 from his pen, 
 Knowing that all things done he can 
 
 add "amen. " 
 Consciously feeling a righteous pride, 
 For over these books he does preside. 
 Because it is pay day at the woolen 
 
 mill. 
 Many a "toper" must have his fill. 
 The butchers display their choicest 
 
 meat, 
 The grocers prepare their monthly treat 
 Every clerk presents his sweetest 
 
 smile. 
 Eager for a share of the laborer's pile. 
 Ada glides by with school books for 
 
 her brother, 
 A long wished for treasure to present 
 
 to her mother. 
 An unparalleled hand in her part, 
 
 51 
 
She ims prided herself in that partic- 
 ular art. 
 With the glow of health on her bearti- 
 
 ful face, 
 Her gentle ways and winning grace, 
 The intelectual current so deep and 
 
 still, 
 Has dominion over her passive vrill. 
 And the angels in heaven witness how 
 
 true 
 The noble young girl has worked her 
 
 way through. 
 The rarest gems and richest diamonds 
 
 are found, 
 In the hardest and roughest rocks of 
 
 the ground. 
 The sweet with the bitter they say 'tis 
 
 God's w411. 
 And little Ada still weaves at the 
 
 mill. 
 One and all have awaited this day, 
 When each should draw his alotted pay 
 Trusting the coming check would cast 
 An increased sum upon the last. 
 With equal thought we do prepare. 
 Our labor for the check drawn there, 
 On the bank of the heavenly land, 
 And cashed by the immortal hand. 
 At the sound of the whistle the door 
 
 is swung. 
 And a restless tide of old and young, 
 Pours into the street one mighty flood, 
 Of machinery that is run by blood. 
 All are nearer the grave one day. 
 But have they advanced any other way? 
 And if it is not a progress up you 
 
 know, 
 
 52 
 
It is truly down we go. 
 All over the town the eye can see 
 The beautiful homes of the employee. 
 Money that built them from the 
 
 banker's till, 
 Was drawn from the deposit of the 
 
 woolen mill. 
 Among the scripture's wonderful pages 
 They, these geneologies tell, 
 Of Moses, Saul and David, 
 And the Jacobs are mentioned as well, 
 How while Esau was hunting 
 Jacob at home remained. 
 And his brotlier's blessing, 
 Through their father obtained. 
 And possibly could that blessing 
 Consisted in part of a will, 
 Transmitting forever to the Jacobs, 
 Proprietorship in the mill? 
 The Bible in telling the story 
 Never a w^ord did say 
 About the signature on the check, 
 Coming in proper play. 
 Now suppose a case that is not likely 
 
 to be. 
 That the laborers were proprietors 
 
 and proprietors the employee. 
 From their monthly wages cant you 
 
 see at a glance 
 How a dollar would bo docked at 
 
 every available chance? 
 And when against organized labor 
 
 they unsuccessfully fought. 
 In submitting to the union by strikes 
 
 were brought, 
 How through constant exactions of 
 
 various kinds, 
 53 
 
Eestoratiou for loss would be made by 
 
 fine. 
 How every room would have abun- 
 dance of fresh air, 
 V/ith a metor on the windpipe of all 
 
 who entered tliere. 
 And when the w^eary laborer tried his 
 
 lungs to fill, 
 Down upon the day book would go an 
 
 extra bill. 
 Convenience for the help would be on 
 
 every floor, 
 With a slight addition charged on 
 
 entering the door. 
 Looking from this stand point the 
 
 laborers truly see 
 What wingless little angels their 
 
 present employers be. 
 The employees of the mill believe this 
 
 very day, 
 That it somehow liappeued in a mysti- 
 cal way, 
 Tliat liheity's eagle from her arie on 
 
 high, 
 Saw the nation's colors floating in the 
 
 sky. 
 Descending she poised for a moment 
 
 in air, 
 With a design to perch on the flag 
 
 staff there. 
 Fluttering her wings her feet clutched 
 
 the knob. 
 Freedom's emblematic bird's heart 
 
 did throb. 
 And General Clinton or Howv. of re- 
 volution fame. 
 At the bird on the mill with their 
 
 muskets took aim. 
 54 
 
And forever to liberty the laborers 
 
 bid adieu, 
 By the heart of the bird being pierced 
 
 through. 
 Her screams reverbrate as shrill 
 A? ever a whistle from the mill. 
 Portland, the metropolis of Oregon, 
 
 above all cities of the nation, 
 Was honored by the seventh annual 
 
 convention of the Wool Grower's 
 
 Association, 
 And when these delegates visited the 
 
 mill, 
 The stripling boy let his work stand 
 
 stil. 
 Turned completely around with mouth 
 
 opened wide, 
 To view the new comers on every side. 
 The dainty young maiden, precepit- 
 
 ably shy, 
 Improved the opportunity when they 
 
 went by. 
 The sour old dame fearing the chance 
 
 she would miss, 
 The temptation to "rubber" ^he could 
 
 not resist. 
 The industrious laborers, men with 
 
 gray hair, 
 Whose dignified looks reproved each 
 
 stare, 
 Attentative to their work but their 
 
 eyes slipped away. 
 To view the distinguished visitors of 
 
 t^at day. 
 The secretary is perched on his little 
 
 stool. 
 Remindful of a naughty boy at school. 
 
 55 
 
In other factories, firms, banks and 
 
 stores, 
 Through careless work the standard 
 
 lowers. 
 The reason why some ink is red 
 Knowing that it has been said 
 Blundering on through lack of care, 
 Untrathful things are w^ritten there. 
 But here facts are fond alone. 
 For the secretary's record is well 
 
 known. 
 Of transtactioDS done and all done 
 
 well 
 The papers, books and ledgers tell 
 As though to each mortal they allotted 
 
 the pay, 
 On the all-important reckoning day. 
 Through the office windovr, outside 
 
 catches his eye, 
 When he neglects to be overly sly. 
 With his hieroglyphic he fills out the 
 
 blank, 
 That draws the gold from the city 
 
 bank. 
 "The love of which" the adage is old, 
 "Is the root of all evil," by the good 
 
 we are told. , 
 The gold so widely acknowledged, 
 As the all powerful thing. 
 Love, virtue and honor. 
 Kneel in submition to this king. 
 And yet every laborer, to carry this 
 
 gold away, 
 By many an unseen trail. 
 Has truly earned his pay. 
 While traveling toward the grave 
 In the acquisition of wealth, 
 
 56 
 
Sacrifices eyesight and his general 
 
 liealth. 
 Tliis intransical god whose liome is in 
 
 the bank 
 Buys a place iu the sanctuary, 
 And in tlie social rank 
 Raining many a family, 
 Sevreing it apart, 
 Crowding the natural affection, 
 From out the human heart. 
 And yet the laborers barter, 
 To call this gold their own 
 Many a natural gift, 
 When it is unanimously known, 
 That dissatisfactory results. 
 Follow its trancient fame, 
 A cold grave to rest in. 
 And a forgotten name. 
 Now the rest of the help of tlie office, 
 Can it possibly be. 
 That they once stood at their trial. 
 The judge and jury could see 
 And thus the sentence was read, 
 While their eyes with tears did fill, 
 For the rest of their natural days 
 Condemned to the woolen mill. 
 
 Biddie's Broken Loom. 
 
 Biddie's loom is broken again. 
 
 And Biddie's heart as well, 
 What calamity next shall come 
 
 Shakespeare could not tell. 
 Toward the loomfixer's hiding place 
 
 Biddie softly crept. 
 Under such a circumstance 
 
 Great Caesar might have wept. 
 To break the news in gently, 
 67 
 
She precantioii took, 
 Yet for the coming afterclap, 
 Now with horror shook. 
 
 A handy shuttle wlilcli dhe grasped, 
 
 In mid air did swing, 
 Like RoJjert Fitzsimons' wife 
 
 She entered into the ring. 
 
 The savage boss to the rescue flew, 
 
 He hit his lips with wrath. 
 And hurled his looks of anger 
 
 In fleeing Biddie's path. 
 The loomfixer addressed the boss, 
 
 Who listened to his dolefull tales, 
 Just as the noble Bismark, 
 
 Would to the Prince of Wales. 
 Biddie soon returneth 
 
 Her handkerchief she produced, 
 Stood wiping her weeping eyes 
 
 With this flag of truce. 
 The vanquished hero seized thehammer 
 
 While Biddie's heart did throb. 
 He administered to the broken loom 
 
 And then he jumped his job. 
 A kinsman to his rescue came. 
 
 And filled his purse with gold, 
 By safely storeing him away 
 
 In a mechanical fold. 
 The boss' wrath subsided. 
 
 Like the roar of the rain, 
 And o'er his tranquil countenance, 
 
 The sunshine played again. 
 Hannibal crossed the Alps, 
 
 And ne'er a shuttle did see, 
 Wellington fought at Waterloo, 
 
 And gained tlie victory. 
 
 58 
 
We do admire their generalship, 
 
 Yet eutertaiu a fear, 
 Tiiat they would not have conquered 
 
 If opposed by Biddie's tear. 
 Biddie's loom now breaks no more, 
 
 Redemption is wrought in full, 
 And with a "HoDSon shuttle," 
 
 She is weaving "Dewey wool." 
 
 MY MOTHER. 
 
 A darkened shade o'er life is cast. 
 And I sadly gaze upon the past ; 
 For never in this world so vast 
 I felt a loss so great as the last, 
 The death of a loving mother. 
 So faithful a friend I ne^er knew, 
 Her equals on earth no doubt were few. 
 Gentle, kind, loving and true. 
 With hope above a groveling crew 
 In God, trusted my mother. 
 By kindness she had gained a name. 
 More enduring than heroic fame. 
 She ahvays bore the spot of shame 
 to shield iier children from all blame, 
 Dear and patient mother. 
 'Twas she, so loving and so fair, 
 Guarding her children with tender care 
 And while fondly kneeling by her 
 
 chair, 
 Taught them to lisp their earliest 
 
 prayer,— 
 Now gone from the earth is mother. 
 Inspired by faith and beauteous love, 
 Which came to her as from above, 
 'Twas her nature, as of the harmless 
 
 dove, 
 
 59 
 
To couceal wheu e'er wo sought to 
 
 shove 
 Blame upon my mother. 
 Now her sacrificing life is o'er, 
 Sorrow troubles her no more, 
 Nor the afflictions she patiently bore; 
 But from me, Oh, death has tor© 
 My angelic mother ! 
 Alone in the silent tomb, 
 As pure as the rose in blcom, 
 Above her waves no vauting plume, 
 In her shroud invailed hi gloom — 
 Is the prostrate form of mother. 
 Knnowig she lies in blissful rest, 
 No sorrow molests that peaceful breast : 
 Having past all earthly test, 
 And recorded among the sacred blest, 
 Is the name of mouldering mother. 
 
 Mother's Cup and Saucer. 
 
 Mother's cup and saucer 
 
 Though broken they may be. 
 Have been a ward against evil 
 
 Through many long years to me. 
 Her children have roamed and 
 scattered. 
 
 While the north wind moans and 
 sighs, 
 All through the long cold winter, 
 
 In a neglected grave slie lies. 
 I look at her Holy Bible 
 
 A braid of her hair I see. 
 But that broken cup and saucer 
 
 Is the dearest thiMg to me. 
 This aged piece of china 
 
 In most homes would have no place 
 
 60 
 
MRS. A. WALTER 
 
 'Pat his 
 
Bnt to me it is ho altor, 
 
 Where descends the throne of Grace. 
 'Tlio lips that taugVit me in chihlhcod 
 
 A guard their memory has kept. 
 How oft' I've seen pressing this cup, 
 
 That chastens each wayward step, 
 When in mj daily business 
 
 From hont'sty tempted to stray, 
 That broken cup and saucer 
 
 Has intercepted the way. 
 When tempted to wrong a neigiihor^ 
 
 Some worldly point to gain, 
 Or to speak a cruel word 
 
 That would cause another pain. 
 The lips which pressed that cup, 
 
 Setting so high upon the shelf, 
 Seem to rebuke my actions, 
 
 And I chastise myself. 
 Trouble, sickness and sorrow. 
 
 Failure in life's high call, 
 Discouragements that are unnumbered 
 
 And my weakness crowns them all. 
 With the disappointments of life 
 
 My list is full made up, 
 Since last I saw her drinking 
 
 From that broken cup. 
 'Tis doubtful if there be a convict 
 
 Suffering for his crimes today. 
 But a broken cup and saucer 
 
 Might have turned the way. 
 For by some foul action 
 
 He'd shrink to have mother know, 
 As she sips the contents of the cup, 
 
 He drinks the dregs of woe. 
 Women in your beauty and grace, 
 
 And men in your stalworth the pride, 
 
 61 
 
Let tlie broken cup and saucer 
 Be your heavenly guide. 
 
 Good Resolutions Too Late. 
 
 A widow did you ask? Yes. No, no — 
 Yet again and again I Jiave wished 
 
 it were so. 
 If in honor my o^^ n dear Imshand was 
 
 dead 
 I could more easily earn our bread. 
 Robert lives, he does, but wliere? 
 Sentenced for life in the prison there, 
 A truer and better husband than he. 
 And a kinder father could not be. 
 How oft we two have sat in the little 
 
 church 
 And together the scriptures did search ; 
 He would say in the future one day 
 
 lie would be 
 From all bad habits entirely free. 
 The thought of these resolutions bring 
 
 hot tears, 
 And I look ar our baby of only five 
 
 years. 
 Who is sure to say, "please mamma 
 
 don't cry. 
 Papa will come home again by andby. " 
 Just the image of his father, so manly 
 
 and fair, 
 And I push back tlie locks of long 
 
 curling hair. 
 His bright eyes with intelligence beam, 
 Yet I wish his existance was only a 
 
 dream. 
 Employment here is very hard to find, 
 Wi th such a disgrace upon me and 
 
 mine. 
 
If I could fly to some place unknown, 
 But I cannot leave him here in the 
 
 prison alone. 
 Two weeks from the day the trial was 
 
 o'er, 
 That I entered the prison door. 
 Oh ! the anguish I never can tell. 
 When I was refused admittance to his 
 
 cell. 
 Coldly they bade m« go away 
 With permission to return on tiie next 
 
 Thursday, 
 Promising that my husband I could 
 
 see. 
 In the presence of a guard along with 
 
 me. 
 But how can I meet him! We both 
 
 know the stain 
 He lately imprinted on liis once 
 
 honored name. 
 Yes I shall go and him I will see, 
 And I shall take little Bobbie along 
 
 with me. 
 Sincerely I wish we were going there 
 
 to stay, 
 As nearer and nearer draws the 
 
 promised day. 
 When I tell you my story yon too will 
 
 see, 
 That he was the victim of a conspiracy. 
 He had a friend, or rather called him 
 
 so, 
 But when tested only, true friendship 
 
 we know. 
 Their business was the same, but of 
 
 the two. 
 My husband the more successful! 
 
 grew. 
 
Ju8t the day baforo the races would 
 
 be here, 
 I was troabiod witii a couscieiicious- 
 
 fear ; 
 In coustuiit companionship tliese tw(. 
 
 were found, 
 By one common interest they seemed 
 
 to be bound. 
 In courting Robert's friendsiiip such 
 
 pains he took, 
 Those black eyes of his had a sneaking 
 
 look. 
 When he left our parlor the other 
 
 night, 
 I cautioned dear Robert, but he laughed 
 
 at my friglit. 
 To me he looked like a vulture tii:it 
 
 would feed 
 On the quarrels that liquor and gamb- 
 ling breed ; 
 A dispute over the races the next day 
 
 he raised then, 
 After getting my husband to drink 
 
 again and again. 
 As a true friend he was disguised with 
 
 care, 
 Knowing Robert's weakest points he 
 
 attacked him there. 
 And as the dispute in anger grew, 
 My husbard tlireatened what he would 
 
 do. 
 One who, when sober a murderous 
 
 thought 
 Never within his brain was wrought. 
 Preparation for the deed was made 
 
 with care, 
 That a deadly weapon should be ready 
 
 there ; 
 
 64 
 
This fiend under the shadow] of 
 
 friendship hidden, 
 Excited his victim who now did as he 
 
 was bidden. 
 So weakened with liquor, he exault- 
 
 iugly knew, 
 Whispered "Robert be a man, to your 
 
 word be true. ' ' 
 The weapon loaded was there on the 
 
 spot, 
 And the heart of a stranger was 
 
 pierced by the shot. 
 Goaded with triumph, his pretended 
 
 friend, 
 Knew that m business competition 
 
 would end. 
 Oh the work of that moment no tongue 
 
 can tell, 
 The ruin of himself and family as 
 
 well. 
 You see how liquor marked his ruinous 
 
 path, 
 Enough to be unable to stifle his wrath. 
 If only sober Robert had been, 
 This advantage they could never have 
 
 taken then. 
 Soon after, the sentence I heard, wliile 
 
 the people did gaze, 
 Condemned to hard labor the rest of 
 
 his days. 
 Now parted forever from babe and 
 
 from wife, 
 He wears the prison striped garb the 
 
 rest of his life. 
 
 Canvassing Books. 
 Down in the beautiful valley away, 
 65 
 
Where the birds in springtime are 
 carolling, 
 
 Where the summer sun pours down all 
 day 
 Its rays upon nature's garland, 
 
 Where the rigor of winter 
 
 Oomes forth to invigor 
 
 The prosperous yoemen 
 
 Who deem the deep snow, 
 
 And the cold winds that blow, 
 An unfailing omen 
 
 Of abundance next season, — 
 
 Is a mansion emblazoned in splendor 
 
 Where a romantic urchin 
 
 Was born and bred, 
 
 By a mother gentle and tender. 
 
 Miels away lives her cousin of woman- 
 ly mould, 
 
 Where the pine trees tower and tama- 
 racks grow. 
 
 Amid cranberry marshes centuries old, 
 
 And wintergreen swamps where wild 
 flowers blow. 
 
 Where rushes from the hillside, 
 
 A rivulet that rushes, 
 
 Bringing down its white foam, 
 All the long year round, 
 By a low plot of ground 
 
 Where stands the maid's home 
 
 On a neat little farm. 
 
 There love and blissfulness reign. 
 
 Among brilliant young children, 
 
 Who cause not an effort, 
 
 For perfection and order is ever main- 
 tained. 
 
 Near a large city that stretclies so 
 vastly, 
 
 66 
 
It recently happened one cold winter 
 
 day, 
 That these two lasses, differing so 
 
 gastly, 
 Came together in a comical way. 
 With a project in view 
 That baffied all logic. 
 For the city they started. 
 In liaste they went forward, 
 In a bobsled they borrowed. 
 And wiien they departed 
 All the neighbors rejoiced. 
 No wonder there was spread a frantic 
 
 alarm, 
 When these tw^o alighted 
 In the streets of the city, 
 Each carrying a bundle under her arm. 
 What next to be done they scarcely 
 
 knew. 
 Or where to commence the streets were 
 
 so wide, — 
 But they finally resolved, these stragl- 
 
 ing two, 
 For each to canvass her specific side. 
 To elude suspicion 
 Tliey wisely concluded 
 To leave the largest luggage at a store. 
 While the streets they promenade, 
 The police they evade. 
 Tiiey will come back after more, 
 When they have sold their first load, 
 They enter the first house not overly 
 
 bold, 
 And when each one returns. 
 She meets her companion. 
 Who asks her how many books she has 
 
 sold. 
 
 67 
 
All the long afternoon of that wintery 
 
 day, 
 In each home their monotonous lingo 
 
 recite, 
 And "no" is all the occupants say, 
 While slowly dawns the shadow of 
 
 night, 
 Both faint hearted and tired. 
 For a lodging place start. 
 One was a student who worked for 
 
 her board. 
 While the other little dunce 
 Left her school all at once, 
 A fortune to make by selling tlie 
 
 adored. 
 Wonderful, wonderful books. 
 No venturing that night in the streets 
 
 of the city. 
 But with bones that were aching. 
 And brains that were whirling, 
 They cuddled in bed with a prayer for 
 
 pity. 
 Morning dawned with its bright sun 
 
 beams, 
 They resolved to abandon their 
 
 perilous fate; 
 The niglit was not filled with blissful 
 
 dreams. 
 And botl; were too tired to even talk 
 
 straight. 
 'Twas plain to behold \ 
 No one need be told, 
 That on going home their minds were 
 
 bent. 
 And each in their turn. 
 This one thing they had learned, 
 That a canvasser of books 
 
 68 
 
Earns evrey cent,. 
 
 Even unto this day 'tis their unchang- 
 ing belief, 
 From books by canvassers sold 
 One would starve on the gold 
 With tliat as their only relief. 
 
 Rescued From the Slams. 
 
 It was one very cold winter night, 
 
 When a strange man saw by a flicker- 
 ing light 
 
 Two Salvation Soldiers entering the 
 slum, 
 
 And begged them for money wath 
 which to buy ru.m. 
 
 By one honest effort, honestly plead- 
 ing, 
 
 Him back to his home in thought they 
 were leading 
 
 To the wife he'd deserted and babies 
 so dear, 
 
 Fearing his companions and scorning 
 a tear, 
 
 He sought woe in the drink that has 
 been 
 
 The ruin and shame of imndreds of 
 men. 
 
 After hearing his story of sorrow 
 complete. 
 
 Two sisters were sent up the dark 
 street 
 
 Along with the stranger who under 
 conviction, 
 
 Sought from the world a holy protec- 
 tion. 
 
 Up the stairs to the landing floor 
 
Theu ascending by ;i ladder to the? 
 
 attic ioor — 
 Is a room where the rotten shingles 
 
 miglit 
 Have been misplacted to let in the 
 
 light. 
 For no other sho"wn Imt the moon's 
 
 pale beam, 
 Where the mother sat watcliing one 
 
 infant dream. 
 And weeping again with a mother's 
 
 prayer, 
 O'er the one whom death had visited 
 
 there. 
 Through the long night the least 
 
 noise to hear. 
 Startled her form with unusual fear. 
 But in ceasless prayer her lieart would 
 
 yearn, 
 That free from liquor he might return ; 
 The father sober once more, be found 
 Before his daughter was placed under 
 
 ground. 
 The day before she pined and said, 
 * ' Rapa curses win n we have no bread ; 
 It has been two weeks since he was 
 
 here, 
 1 love my papa, he is so dear. 
 I'm cold and hungry but I'll not 
 
 complain, 
 If papa will come home to me again. " 
 In her mother's arms like a withered 
 
 flower. 
 When scarcely had elapsed another 
 
 hour, 
 She passed aw ay with the angel there, 
 Who took her from this world of care. 
 
 70 
 
liaying the cold corpse of the little 
 
 one 
 Oil the pile of rags by her baby son, 
 She lifted tier eyes from the face of 
 
 the dead. 
 And thought of the change in the man 
 
 she had wed; 
 How through liquor he had squandered 
 
 a home, 
 How among strangers they were 
 
 forced to roam ^ 
 How he'd gambled liis employer's 
 
 money away 
 And the officer came and took him 
 
 that day; 
 When the term of six months was 
 
 brought to an end. 
 He promised to live a upright man; 
 How the love for drink overcame all, 
 And she feared 'twould be the cause 
 
 of a second fall. 
 How the thought of leaving him 
 
 existed long, 
 But the ties of love were woven too 
 
 strong^ 
 A sound on the ladder, what could it 
 
 be! 
 And opening the door quickly to see, 
 'Twas not her husband ,by the noise 
 
 she knew — 
 Then a Salvation bonnet came into 
 
 view — 
 She thought of the threats her husband 
 
 would make, 
 How every bone in their bodies he'd 
 
 break. 
 Should she permit one of that band 
 
 71 
 
Ever inside of the door to stand? 
 Out side partly hidden by the gloom 
 Seeming to be backward on entering 
 
 the room — 
 Stood the fathe/ awaiting to see 
 If still welcome he there might be. 
 He was conscious of wrong and 
 
 smitten with shame, 
 But love is unchanging and always 
 
 the same. 
 One moment the mother tlie truth now 
 
 guessed. 
 And quicklj^ is folded close to his 
 
 breast. 
 One treasure of home he found 
 
 placed on high, 
 And was determined to meet her again 
 
 by and by. 
 In disgust he remembered the life of 
 
 dark cast, 
 And when prayers ascended for the 
 
 good of the race, 
 The Army was foremost at God's 
 
 tlirone of grace. 
 
 Christmas Gems. 
 I. 
 
 The star of Bethlehem guided the way, 
 
 Until in the heaven it stood 
 O'er the manger where tlie Savior lay, 
 
 And to see him the wise men could. 
 The message of this gift of God, 
 
 Down through the ages rang ; 
 "Peace on earth and good will toward 
 men, ' ' 
 
 The angel immortal sang. 
 'Tis God's only begotten son, 
 
 72 
 
Came tlie dark world to light ; 
 Niueteeu hundred and four years 
 
 Have passed since that night, 
 Frankincense and myrrh 
 
 Were the gifts which he received, 
 But life immortal and endless bliss 
 
 For the Christians who believed. 
 That memorial Christmas day 
 
 Has long gone into the past. 
 But the light of tlie world still shines. 
 
 And bright are the rays it casts. 
 
 II. 
 
 In naming the countries of the globe, 
 
 How many can I tell? 
 There is Europe, Asia. Australia, 
 
 And the Americas as well. 
 And the dark continent of Africa, 
 
 Where the little heathen grow ; 
 Of our merry Christmas day 
 
 As yet they do not know. 
 Tliey never heard of Santa Clans 
 
 Whom we all love, 
 Nor of our dear Savior, 
 
 Who went from earth above. 
 Many faithful missionaries 
 
 To the continents go, 
 And tell the sacred news, 
 
 That of Christmas they may know. 
 The holy word will make them happy, 
 
 And point the heavenly way. 
 Then they, like us, may also 
 
 Enjoy the Christmas day. 
 III. 
 Christmas has come, 
 'Tis t. merry day. 
 
 73 
 
Bells are ringing, 
 Children are singing, 
 And all sorrow is driven away. 
 
 Stores are closed. 
 
 And business is stopped. 
 
 At every meeting, 
 
 There is greeting, 
 And a merry Christmas dropped. 
 
 If we can't give, 
 
 Pleasant words we may say 
 To all the pror, 
 Who come to our door. 
 And make them enjoy 
 The Christmas day. 
 
 Santa Claus will come 
 As we believe, 
 
 Bringing toys, 
 
 To girls and boys, 
 Which with joy will be received. 
 
 How glad we are because 
 Christmas is here. 
 From father and mother, 
 Sister and brother. 
 The presents will come as every 
 
 year. 
 'Twas on this day 
 That our Savior was born, 
 There in the manger. 
 Guarded from danger, 
 He was found at early morn. 
 He came to die 
 Our lives to save, 
 For our sins to atone, 
 Without a moan 
 His life he freely gave. 
 
 74. 
 
TheD in his name 
 Leud a helping hand, 
 
 And with shouts of mirth 
 The day of his birth 
 Shall be hailed throughout the 
 
 land. 
 Of reading the story 
 We will remember 
 Of the gifts he received 
 From those who believed 
 On the twenty-fifth of December 
 IV. 
 "I don't believe dear papa knows," 
 
 Blue-eyed Willie said, 
 As he threw his arms around the neck 
 
 Of his little brother, Ted. 
 "You seel's two years older than you, 
 
 And as long as I can remember, 
 Santa Glaus never failed to come, 
 Sometime near the last of Decem- 
 ber. 
 I heard papa telling mamma, 
 This year Santa Olaus wouldn't 
 come. 
 Papa's wages would go still lower, 
 He said while he cast their sum. 
 What is that to do with Christmas, 
 
 I'd just like to know. 
 And keeping dear old Santa away, 
 
 'Cause papa's wages are low." 
 The boys stood silent for one moment, 
 
 Then thoughtfully Teddy said, 
 "If I could write like you can, 
 I'd send him a letter, Fred." 
 The boy who had mastered the primer. 
 Full of self confidence grew ; 
 
 75 
 
He felt he weight of importance 
 
 For the many words he knew. 
 There was ball, and candy and top, 
 
 And wagon, and horse, and drum, 
 
 "I shall just write a letter to Santa, 
 And then I know he will come. 
 You want a book, pencil and knife, 
 
 Rubber doll, candies and kite. 
 I will ask for these in my letter 
 
 And send it by papa tonight." 
 The toilsome task of the message, 
 
 Tlie little hands did complete, 
 And papa was asked to mail the letter, 
 
 And carried it away to the .treet. 
 Who can doubt that Santa received 
 
 And faithful for each item did hunt. 
 The babies hushed the plea of poor 
 wages, 
 
 Cliildren are never little but once. 
 
 V. 
 
 Pa used to believe in systems, 
 
 And the governing of natural laws, 
 He scorned the delusive idea 
 
 Of liarboring a Santa Glaus; 
 Until one Christmas morning, 
 
 About two in the night. 
 The nurse ratttled his chamber door, 
 
 And bade him speed with the light. 
 Santa Claus had truly come 
 
 To convert pa if he could, 
 For he was the only skeptical man, 
 
 In the surrounding neighborhood. 
 Old Santa had quietly slipped away, 
 
 Ani left a wonderful toy. 
 It wasn't china, rubber nor putty, 
 
 Bat a bouncing baby boy. 
 
 76 
 
Now, this Christmas pa decided 
 
 To spend it by himself, 
 What do you think Santa thought. 
 
 My pa wanted with this elf. 
 When I arose in the morning 
 
 A merry Christmas I v\islied them 
 all. 
 Pa looked up and frowned at me 
 
 And the baby began to squall. 
 
 "'TIS the presents we need the most. 
 
 That Santa is sure to bring 
 "This looks like being alone," mut- 
 tered pa. 
 
 As the door bell began to ring. 
 Since that Christmas morning 
 
 Pa has not denied the fact, 
 That down the chimney Old Santa 
 Claus comes 
 
 With presents on his back. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Chime ye ringing bells. 
 
 Oh stir the thoughtless earth, 
 Go ring the message around the world 
 
 The news of our Savior's birth. 
 Ring, ring ye merry Christmas bells, 
 
 For the good tidings which ye bring, 
 The bond may b« free for the Savior 
 has come, 
 
 The holy angels of heaven sing. 
 The shepherds sought the city of 
 David, 
 
 Their presents to the cherub bring — 
 God's angels hover over the manger. 
 
 Merry Christmas bells, ring, ring. 
 
 77 
 
The Truly Great. 
 
 Before us are the great examples 
 Of illustrious lives that lead to fame. 
 
 And also are the samples 
 Of thos?i who strove to gain a name. 
 
 Often honors have been obtained 
 By selfisli or ignoble strife, 
 
 While worthiness has been disdained 
 Because glory for power was rife. 
 
 The monuments of marble only 
 Are neither proof nor sign. 
 
 For in many grave lonely 
 A noble hero reclines. 
 
 The reward is not always given, 
 By those who dwell on earth. 
 
 But the law that rules in heaven. 
 Is of right instead cf birth. 
 
 It is not the deed of heroic daring 
 That marked the great alone, 
 
 But it is those of noble bearing 
 By which they may be known. 
 
 Let the aim be always high, 
 And the strife is truly great. 
 
 There is reward for those who try 
 If they only learn to wait. 
 
 The baffling of our temptations 
 
 More pleasure will create, 
 Than the conquering of creation 
 
 To the truly great. 
 
 78 
 
MY TURN TO REQTE FIRST. 
 
 Dialogue. 
 
 (Enters first boy. )— "Gro ring the 
 bells and fire the guns and fling the 
 starry banner out, shout reedom till 
 your lisping ones give back" — 
 
 (Enters second boy, and interrupts.) 
 — "You're mistaken; it is my turn to 
 recite, young man. My name comes 
 on the program first. ' ' 
 
 First bov— "No, it don't." 
 
 Second boy — "You go and sit down 
 and wait until I get through. My 
 piece is an oration like big folks 
 speak. (Bowing) — "Up from the 
 South at break of day, bringing to 
 Winchester fresh dismay. The a- 
 frighted air which the shudder bore, 
 like a herald in haste to the chief- 
 tain's door, with a terrible grumble 
 and rumble and" — 
 
 First boy, interrupting — "I know I 
 come first. ' ' 
 
 Second boy—-" You don't either.'' 
 
 First boy — "I do too. You recite af- 
 ter I do. (Bowing) — Go ring the bells 
 and fire the guns and fling the" — 
 
 Second boy — "1 want you to under- 
 
 79 
 
stand that I recite first. (Bowing) — 
 Up from the South at break of day, 
 bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, 
 the"— 
 
 First boy — "You think you can 
 down me, do you?" 
 Second boy — "You interrupt me 
 again and I will show you." 
 
 (Both bowing and reciting together, 
 first boy reciting — "Go ring the bells 
 and fire the guns, and fling the starry 
 banner out, Shout freedom till your 
 lisping ones give back their cradle 
 shout. ' ' 
 
 Second boy reciting — "Up from the 
 South at break ot day, bringing to 
 Winchester fresh dismay, the a- 
 frighted air which the shudder borp, 
 like a herald in haste to the chieftan's 
 door, with a terrible grumble ana 
 rumble and roar telling the battle was 
 on once more. " 
 
 Both pause, look angrily at each 
 other, wrestle a moment, then recite 
 together the second time. Second boy, 
 shaking his fist and pushing first boy 
 — "I'll not stand any m^re of yoar 
 foolishness. Bowing — Up from the 
 South at break ot day, bringing to 
 Winchester fresh dismay, the afright- 
 ed air which the shudder boro" — 
 Grasping first boy, who has been try- 
 ing to hold his hand over the mouth 
 of the second boy. In tne scuffle that 
 follows, the second boy is seated upon 
 the down form of the first boy who is 
 trying to recite. Second boy hold- 
 
ing his hand over the mouth of the 
 first boy, bows. (Exit both. ) 
 
 Celebrating the Glorious Fourtb. 
 
 From the meadow the robins are 
 calling, 
 The wild canaries are singing 
 And in the elms along the lane 
 
 The oriole nests are swinging. 
 The grouse has ceased his hooting, 
 The pine squirrel is resigned to 
 fate ; 
 For che Fourth of July in Morton's 
 grove 
 The country will celebrate. 
 
 The scorching sun pours down, 
 
 There is not a sign of rain, 
 And the stores in the little village, 
 
 Are hopeful of a holiday gain. 
 A multitude has looked forward 
 
 For the dawning of that joyous day, 
 For the city will send an orator forth, 
 
 And the city band will play. 
 
 Men, women and children 
 
 Their efforts all combine. 
 Gather in the beautiful grove, 
 
 To worship at freedom's shrine. 
 Far away on Kingsberry's hill 
 
 Where the lowing cattle graze, 
 Thoughtless of our fathers' deeds, 
 
 In revolution days. 
 
 An explosion vibrates the air 
 As if bombardment had commenced, 
 
 81 
 
And the leader of the herd 
 
 Marches toward the fence. 
 Liberty's bell seemed to ring 
 
 As on independence day. 
 And forcing his weight against the 
 fence 
 
 The boards and wires gave way. 
 Toward the celebration ground 
 
 He leads the dairy band. 
 And never pauses until he halts 
 
 Before rlie speaker's stand. 
 Durham's blood v^ras slow to wrath 
 
 For Norton's grass was green, 
 But waving o'er the orator's head 
 
 The nation's flag was seen. 
 Her midnight stars and asure blue 
 
 Which lit the soldier's eye, 
 Who salutes once more his country's 
 flag 
 
 An then swoons back to die. 
 Her blood red stripes he also saw, 
 
 And lower bowed his head, 
 With a bellow deep and loud 
 
 As if to awake the dead. 
 Echoed then that awful roar 
 
 Which Gettysburg once knew. 
 When from the deadly canons mouth 
 
 The balls and shells they flew. 
 Confederate nor union guns 
 
 Ne'er made a louder threat. 
 Than from the raging animal 
 
 The holiday beset. 
 Heavenward the parson looks 
 
 As if to implore some saint, 
 And the ladies on the ground 
 
 Try their best to faint 
 
 82 
 
And swoon at some admirer's feet, 
 Who in horrors stood aghast 
 
 As when in that fearful day 
 He'll hear the judgment blast. 
 
 The orator's palpitating heart 
 
 In terror of defeat. 
 As nearer drew the enemy 
 
 Like a huge base drum beat. 
 He thought of liberty, independence 
 
 And justice's goddess too. 
 The wrong out balanced in her scales, 
 
 Her sword was drawn he knew. 
 England's parliment was never moved 
 
 By eloquence more grand, 
 Than that v;^hich issued from the lips. 
 
 Of the orator on the stand. 
 As he seized an awaiting rail 
 
 And toward the beast did run. 
 Said he "just catch him by the horns 
 
 And hold him till I come. " 
 Patrick Henry nor Webster, 
 
 John Calhoun nor Clay, 
 Never moved an audience 
 
 With such a magic way. 
 The band rallied the scattered notes 
 
 And hurled them at the foe, 
 For Trenton was captured Christmas 
 night, 
 
 By Washington you know. 
 The gallant conquorer chased the 
 enemy 
 
 Which from the park did run, 
 As real Putman chased the British 
 
 From the field at Lexington. 
 From daughter, mother, son and father 
 
 His praise will never cease. 
 
 83 
 
A representative in war, 
 
 A magistrate in peace. 
 The grown up man and little child, 
 
 Of the hero's victory sang, 
 And from the Chautauqua park to the 
 
 cemetery, 
 Election's bugle rang. 
 His progress as in years gone by, 
 
 No candidate oppose 
 And triumphant to the mayor's throne. 
 
 His majesty arose. 
 
 . Francis E. Willard. 
 
 Though vested with an immortal robe, 
 Her fame has circumferenced the globe 
 And for their restoration of the race, 
 A work eternal on earth she placed. 
 Organizing and establishing through- 
 out the land. 
 The Women's Christian Temperance 
 
 band. 
 In oneness attempting their efforts to 
 
 bind 
 To the glory of God, for the good of 
 
 mankind. 
 Francis E. Willard's name shall 
 
 enhance, 
 As through life she led the advance. 
 Constant through the sisterhood, 
 Acknowledge as universal in good. 
 Learned, accomplished she upheld to 
 
 the light. 
 The verbial pictures she painted so 
 
 bright. 
 The affectionate stories that pointed 
 
 the way, 
 
 84 
 
FRANCES E. WILLARD 
 Temperance 
 
In the hearts of her hearers are living 
 today. 
 
 The hand that comforts the mortals 
 that weep, 
 
 The fruits of their labor in eternity- 
 reap. 
 
 This advocate of temperance has gone 
 on before, 
 
 Yet t^e work she began with time 
 only is o'er. 
 
 A Mother's Handiwork. 
 
 It was a mother's chosen device. 
 
 To rear her daughter in ignorance of 
 
 vice. 
 In little Eshter one might trace 
 Robust health and natural grace. 
 She thus unacquainted with a world 
 
 of sin, 
 Was one whom devotion might easily 
 
 win. 
 Deceived in the laws of nature's art. 
 By her parents conceiving ignorance 
 
 a modest part, 
 Oft over the mysteries of life would 
 
 brood. 
 Was by a traveling stranger woed. 
 Overcome by ingenious fraud, 
 She had consented to travel abroad. 
 Just as the serpent beguiles at will 
 With phantoms of pleasure the future 
 
 to fill- 
 He overcame the compliant mind 
 Of Esther, the most trustful of women 
 
 kind. 
 
 85 
 
The knowledge was hidden with 
 
 cautious care, 
 Of his home in New York and his 
 
 family there ; 
 Of the social standing in which he 
 
 prides, 
 Of the church where he as a deacon 
 
 presides. 
 And his daughter, who like Esther, yet 
 
 not so fair. 
 In the sanctuary sings in the choir 
 
 there. 
 Seared was the conscience that could 
 
 rest 
 With this monstrous secret in his 
 
 breast. 
 The life was new and with pleasure 
 
 filled. 
 To Esther's weak and wayward will. 
 The game of cards, the glass of wine, 
 Companions that worship at Yenis' 
 
 shrine ; 
 Have wrought a hiram in sinfullness 
 
 there. 
 With King David can scarce compare. 
 And in shame and vice more deeply 
 
 bound 
 Than ever polluted the English crown. 
 Oh society, society ! Look at your feet. 
 Count the cost of the pleasures you 
 
 deem so sweet ! 
 
 Soon these two on a foreign shore are 
 
 found. 
 And Esther is more closely to him 
 
 bound, 
 For the wedding that was promised 
 
 it appears 
 
 86 
 
Her usual pleadiDgs end iu tears. 
 
 Annoying her companion he departed 
 unbeknown, 
 
 Leaving her to battle the world alone. 
 
 Now in the great metropolitan city 
 he passes, 
 
 With the respected and honored 
 classes. 
 
 A Paris nurse rapped at the door 
 
 As she had been bidden some weeks 
 before ; 
 
 The mother responded trembling and 
 weak. 
 
 But the language of France was unable 
 te speak. 
 
 The nurse saw that she was too late 
 to stay 
 
 The drug that was knawing her vitals 
 away. 
 
 Esther a few words of English spoke, 
 
 Though not understood the senses 
 awoke. 
 
 Held forth a, paper with streaming 
 tears, 
 
 To be given to her child at account- 
 able years. 
 
 Then back to the cot where the little 
 one lay, 
 
 Calling on God she passed away. 
 
 The nurse read the story of the com- 
 mon thing, 
 
 By a glance at the hand for the miss- 
 ing ring. 
 
 How plighted assurance had existed 
 there 
 
 Though the Priest had neglected read- 
 ing his prayer. 
 
 87 
 
How desertion in the hour of mortal 
 
 needs 
 And the reflection of darkening deeds 
 Had mingled discouragement with 
 
 wrath, 
 And Esther traveled the suicidical 
 
 path. 
 
 Aunt Maggie. 
 
 Holiday is near by 
 
 And I should be delighted, 
 To dine at our Auntie's 
 
 'Though I've not been invited. 
 You may call me rude. 
 
 But I credit your abuse, 
 To your not having an aunt Maggie 
 
 As the excuse. 
 
 At all other places 
 
 I'm forced to wait 
 For a formal invitation 
 
 That comes up to date. 
 Otherwise I'll intrude 
 
 "Wheresoever I stray, 
 And mar the bright pleasure 
 
 Of the holiday. 
 In this exceptional case 
 
 Auntie would say, 
 As she hastened to greet me 
 
 In her gentle way. 
 That she knew I'd be present. 
 
 And bidding me see, 
 That an extra dish 
 
 Was made special for me. 
 Those days have been gone 
 
 Long in the past, 
 But the scene is unchanging 
 
 88 
 
In memory stedfast. 
 I imagine [ inhale 
 
 The savor so sweet, 
 Look first in one direction 
 
 Expecting a treat. 
 
 Then turning again, 
 
 I watch her prepare, 
 Her dinner with her 
 
 Usual exacting care. 
 Over the fire the steak 
 
 She would fry. 
 Remove from the oven 
 
 A nice mince pie. 
 
 All kinds of vegetables 
 
 Are a part of the fare. 
 The turkey and cranberry sauce 
 
 Are both there. 
 The cakes and the cookies 
 
 The doughnuts as well, 
 All things imaginable 
 
 Too many to tell. 
 She superintends the dinner 
 
 Each dish one by one. 
 And all of the labor 
 
 Is most cleverly done. 
 With resting assurance 
 
 I can always say. 
 That it is impossible 
 
 To get in Auntie's way. 
 The table with luxuries 
 
 Is now quickly spread. 
 Assuring us all we shall 
 
 Be immediately fed. 
 The farm hath yielded 
 
 Her produce there, 
 Guarded by industrial 
 
And economical care. 
 Proving the prophecy 
 
 To be complete, 
 That those who labor 
 
 have a right to eat. 
 In a moment or two 
 
 The dinner is completed, 
 And around the table 
 
 The guests are seated. 
 Not a lord or lady 
 
 Or duke or duchess too, 
 Would dare to do the many things 
 
 That w^e delight to do. 
 And a better dinner 
 
 I know at any rate, 
 And not half so good, 
 
 I'm afraid they never ate. 
 With no thoughts of wronging 
 
 Our industrial neighbor. 
 And we like drones be living 
 
 From off his hard labor. 
 We laugh and chat togetlier ; 
 
 The careless things too we say 
 Proves that life is more lowly 
 
 Is the happiest way. 
 Not a critical suspension 
 
 Our appetite now lingers, 
 But taking up a turkey bone, 
 
 Just between our fingers 
 Ravenously we knaw it 
 
 'Tis but a beginner. 
 Thus we do ample justice 
 
 To our auntie's dinner. 
 The good things go around and around, 
 
 While sitting at the table, 
 And we are compeied to eat 
 
 As much as we are able. 
 
 SO 
 
It has gone into the past, 
 
 But in thought it is a balm, 
 And through life's weary journey 
 
 A criterion she shall be, 
 Always the simple auntie, 
 
 This party that you meet. 
 In the church or parlor, 
 
 The kitchen or the street. 
 And I truly pity 
 
 Whomsoever he might be, 
 That never had an Aunt Maggie 
 
 That he might go and see. 
 
 A Cbieftan's Daughter. 
 
 I am Chicatama, a chieftan's daughter, 
 
 You know of the Sioux by their out- 
 break and slaughter. 
 
 The Appalachian system once v/as our 
 home, 
 
 But far from those hills we are now 
 forced to roam. 
 
 From ocean to ocean, o'er forest and 
 field, 
 
 The bear and the bison, the otter and 
 seal. 
 
 Ye know they are ours, 'til the in- 
 truder came 
 
 And his civilization banished our 
 game. 
 
 Who blames us because the pale face 
 is slain, 
 
 And we strive to recover the lost 
 domain. 
 
 Which one of you would submisively 
 stand 
 
 And see raiment and food forced out 
 of the land. 
 
 91 
 
Do you think you can curb the love in 
 
 this breast, 
 The Great Spirit placed there for the 
 
 war and the chase? 
 Shall we sit down underneath the oak, 
 And the pipe of peace with the white 
 
 man smoke? 
 
 Read of Old Sitting Bull and learn 
 
 of the rest, 
 How Custer's bones still bleach in the 
 
 West. 
 And after tliat battle many warrior 
 
 found. 
 His bow and arrow in the happy 
 hunting ground. 
 
 We are called traitors when we leave 
 
 the land, 
 Of the stinted reservation marked out 
 
 by your hand. 
 And refuse to be fed by the v/hite 
 
 man's bread 
 Like a child from a spoon when its 
 
 mother is dead. 
 
 If the dead cold unfold deeds foul and 
 
 mean, 
 Just think of Pocahantas what she 
 
 felt and seen. 
 And many a warier to day for her 
 
 sake. 
 The treacherous pale face would burn 
 
 at the stake. 
 Don't think it our choice to exchang3 
 
 for your care, 
 The free born spirit of the mountain 
 
 air. 
 
 92 
 
Do your rations atone for the wrong 
 
 you have done, 
 No ! Hand the chief tan's heritage down 
 
 to his son. 
 
 When the victims shall cry for mercy 
 
 and help, 
 I will hold up the blood reaking scalp, 
 and revenge is my cry when I think 
 
 cf the land, 
 From which we w^ere driven by the 
 
 civilized man. 
 
 Shot Upon His Coffin 
 
 My little girl opened the door 
 
 With her face all wreathed in smiles, 
 "Oh mother dear here i? a telegram. 
 
 Its from the Phillipine Isles." 
 I hastly opend the message, 
 
 And in a glance I read, — 
 "By the time you know my story 
 
 Dear mother I shall be dead". 
 
 "I was tired and sick from marching, 
 
 And as a sentinel I stood last night, 
 My brain was turned by the heat. 
 
 And the fever dimed my sight. 
 This morning they tell me I slept 
 
 And to suffer for such is my lot. 
 Tomorrow upon my coifin, 
 
 Blindfolded I shall be shot. " 
 Trembling I staggered backward. 
 
 Too deeply smitten to weep. 
 With the thought of my only son. 
 
 Over come with sickness and sleep. 
 A pardon from the president, 
 
 Wouuld reach the Isles too late. 
 Should he condescend his intercession. 
 To save my boy from his shameful fate. 
 
How I wished that his child hood body 
 
 lu a coffin had been lain 
 And he ne'er had reared to manhood, 
 
 And aspired to relms of fame. 
 All through college he stood the top- 
 most, 
 
 On the play ground, in the class; 
 Few were they who were his equals, 
 
 None were they who surpassed ; 
 When the examination was over 
 
 And he so proudly stood the test, 
 All his classmates tliought him lionored 
 
 More than any of tlie rest, 
 
 With stories of patriots I have spured 
 him, 
 
 Their heroic ready manner, 
 To uphold his country's laws, 
 
 And her starry spangled banner. 
 He sympathized with the rebellion 
 
 Which arose in that near isle. 
 When Cuba revolted first 
 
 Against the Spaniards cruel and vile. 
 
 His memorial denouncement I re- 
 member 
 Whose eloquence stirred a nations' 
 feeling, 
 When the cruiser's victims were shot 
 iH the back, 
 While close to the slaughter house 
 kneeling. 
 Yes ! My blood did almost stagnate 
 
 As I strove with stifled tears, 
 When the steamer pulled from Port- 
 land 
 With her Oregon volunteers. 
 From the deck his farewell, 
 
 94 
 
Proud and manly it was done, 
 At the shrine of my country's alter, 
 
 I had placed my only son, 
 Strgguling thus with human weakness 
 
 With every sign of an immotion 
 I had given my precious child 
 
 With a patriot's tre u devotion. 
 
 Now earthly treasure that is dearest 
 
 Is the object of mortal foe 
 With cowardly taunts and exultations 
 
 To goad upon my vital woe. 
 When tiie gal nt troops returneth 
 
 And the flag they proudly wave 
 O'er the grave of their dead heros 
 
 Then his sister too most suffer 
 And in shame must leave tlieir sighs, 
 
 For their soldier brother's body, 
 Like a stricken traitor lies. 
 
 Is it for crimes that I have done 
 While this vale of woe I've trod, 
 
 That his blood in condemnation 
 Is before the judgment throne of God? 
 
 Oould I but see thjse blue eyes 
 sparkle, 
 
 Lean upon his breast once more, — 
 But his mangled corpse they'll bury 
 
 On the Phil ipine Isle and shore. 
 See him kneeling in his coffin ! 
 
 Oh, his bosom streams with blood. 
 From the ugly wound upon him 
 
 Gushes forth a crimson flood. 
 Is that the fatal volley, 
 
 The noise that sounds so near, 
 ''Dear mamma cover me up" — 
 
 'Tis my baby's voice I hear. 
 Merciful Father of heaven, 
 
 95 
 
Ungrateful though I maj seem, 
 I thank thee with all my reasoning 
 
 It was buc a fevered dream. 
 And the Phillipine war is over 
 
 And hostilities have ceased. 
 Honored are our soldiers 
 
 And the nation rests in peace. 
 Nestling close beside me, 
 
 I my precious baby boy 
 Who may yet grow to manhood 
 
 And be both pride and joy. 
 
 Heppoer's Flood. 
 
 We in mercy to the law of nature 
 
 Yield to her smile or frown 
 Today she bestows her sunlight 
 
 As if it were a gem set crown. 
 But look on the work of yesterday 
 
 The rain and hail and mnd 
 Have immerged the homes of many 
 
 In Heppner's woeful flood. 
 Before the cloud descended. 
 
 And darkness hid the town 
 A stronger mind might yield to fear 
 
 Than that of Nettie Brown. 
 In simple chillike trustfulness 
 
 The refuge above all other 
 She quickly seeks in danger's hour 
 
 Shelter beside her mother. 
 The roar of rain and hail 
 
 The roof descends as well 
 Was it a lightning stroke? 
 
 No, it was a cloud that fell. 
 Mother, daughter and little babe 
 
 That lie resting in sweet sleep 
 
 96 
 
Are borne on the rushing waters 
 Amid the ruin's shapeless heap. 
 Now, the relentless angry flood 
 
 Is at the height of its wrath 
 Mingling men, women and ciiildren 
 
 In its wreck strewn path. 
 In the seathing waters 
 
 Little Nettie feels a grasp, 
 'Tis her mother's Hand 
 
 She struggles now to clasp. 
 For just one moment only, 
 
 Each clings unto the other. 
 Then a rushing timber 
 
 Parts them there forever. 
 Oh, the anguish and lasting sorrow. 
 
 No tongue can ever tell. 
 Wrought by the disaster 
 
 Heppner's cloud that fell. 
 Among the first that were rescued 
 
 Was little Nettie Brown, 
 But her baby brother's body 
 
 Has never yet been found. 
 The little one and its mother, 
 
 Together took its flight ; 
 From the earthly regions of darkness, 
 
 To the realms of heavenly light. 
 
 Prompt to the call of sufferers, 
 Was the response from far and near 
 
 In the recovery of the lost ones. 
 And in the debris to clear. 
 Food and raiment and shelter 
 
 Are given to supply the distressed 
 And little Nettie Brown 
 
 Is provided for among the rest. 
 
 97 
 
Pegfgy [McCooster, the Old Maid. 
 I am poor abused Peggy McCootser 
 
 I used to be young and gay 
 But now like all the^rest of old maids 
 
 I'm overly cranky they say. 
 Even my companions of childhood, 
 
 Caring nought for my aching heart. 
 Seem to delight in reminding me 
 
 That beauty with youth depart. 
 To see such dear friends gathered 
 together 
 
 Is a most beautiful sight 
 And to teU'you my pitiful story 
 
 Perhaps it isn't quite right, 
 Yet I know I shall have your sympathy 
 
 Though on your pleasure I cast a 
 shade 
 By relating the mournful circumstance 
 
 That made me an old maid. 
 Every one says 'tis remarkable 
 
 How well I hold my youth — 
 Fifty-two years on my coming 
 birthday, 
 
 You nan scarcely believe it the truth. 
 At most all kinds of^labor, 
 
 In life I've had my turn, 
 And the very best of wages 
 
 It is easy for me; to earn. 
 My consecutive terms of school I've 
 taught. 
 
 Through mud, and sleet, and rain, 
 In that sylvan district. 
 
 Of hickory or bass wood lane, 
 But now, I look back on life, 
 
 'Tis failure through and through. 
 
 98 
 
There are no completions of mine 
 3ut what some one else could do. 
 Preparations ;for my wedding wera 
 once made 
 Peter McCoy was my betrothed' s 
 name. 
 He was a burly Irishman, 
 Bald headed, with gout he was lame. 
 Bent over as one with labor would be, 
 But this was not Peter's case 
 He always stooped when walking 
 Just to economise space. 
 My motlier's word of wisdom, 
 I repeat them in tears again 
 "Dear Peggy your first may be your 
 last chance. 
 Pray for gra- .e to endure him then. ' ' 
 And her words were truly "prophetical 
 When she said "Peggy don't make 
 fun 
 You will see one day an offer like this 
 
 Is very much better than none, ' ' 
 Peter would feed my ma on candy, | 
 And I like a bursted tomato would 
 grin. 
 And pa would call me in the kitchen 
 
 And say "Peggy t'is such a sin, 
 Tliis fellow from early childhood, 
 
 With Midas hands is possessed. 
 Whatever he touches turns into gold, 
 Obey your father, child, and be 
 blessed. " 
 Oh, the thought of looking identity, 
 
 By being tied to that man. 
 He will tell me just what to do, 
 
 I . 99 
 
Aud just how to think if he can. 
 And there he sat in our parlor, 
 
 Trying so nice to seem, 
 Like the red headlight of danger 
 
 His bald head did gleam. 
 Father would s^y " 'tis no cau^e of 
 mirth" 
 Mother in arger grew loud. 
 Don't laugh, daughter, at Peter's 
 bald head, 
 'Tis an emblem of whicli he is proud. 
 The dreams failing to produce its crop 
 
 Is blighted by the radient sheen 
 Reflected from his intellectual brow, 
 Which does with intelligence gleam. 
 Almost every night at our house. 
 
 My papa and Peter did chat 
 They'd talk about loaning money 
 
 And about this and that. 
 Peter got so disgusting 
 
 I so reckless I did not care 
 And I just for an experiment 
 
 Quickly upset his chair. 
 His heels and his head came in 
 collision, 
 'Twas the finest circus I ever saw, 
 And just like Newton's apple, 
 
 He followed gravitation's law. 
 Recovering equilibrium 
 
 Just as quickly as he could, 
 And with his red eyes flashing. 
 
 He perpendicular stood. 
 Says he, "Peggy McCooster 
 
 I w^ant you to quickly decide. 
 And right here in your father's 
 
 100 
 
presence, 
 
 Promise to be my bride." 
 Father looked quite vicious, 
 
 But I pleased him by naming the 
 day, 
 That at the hymeneal altar, 
 [ I'd swear my life away. 
 Pater's wrath quickly subsided, 
 
 He seemed to enjoy the joke, 
 But ah, poor me engaged to be married 
 
 You'd thought my heart was broke. 
 Preparations, now for the wedding, 
 
 Were made up to latest date. 
 My parents would get rid of their 
 burden 
 
 Before it was too. late. 
 Soon we entered the little clmrch 
 
 As the bride and groom. 
 Rapidly the moments bore me along. 
 
 Toward my waiting doom. 
 Peter decorated by a big sunflower 
 
 Emblematic of his happy state, 
 Oh, that big awkward fellow, 
 
 I could not help but hate. 
 Down came a mellow apple 
 
 On top of Peter's bald head. 
 Then I snickered outright 
 
 "Be serious" the parson said. 
 With deep regrets I look back to that 
 day 
 
 How much better it would have been 
 If only in good behavior, 
 
 I'd just been married then. 
 "By the ties of wedlock" the Par- 
 son said 
 
 101 
 
' ' Tis' no trifling thing to be bound. ' ' 
 Mother I saw w as uneasy 
 
 And shook her head and frowned. 
 He read from the open Bible 
 
 And said something about "all 
 is well" 
 And whether he read of Nebuchanezzar 
 
 Or Nicodemus I can't tell. 
 
 Then he turned to me and said, 
 
 "Woman do you solemnly swear, 
 That you will love, honor and obey, 
 
 Your lord and master there." 
 I saw the trap in a moment 
 
 And freedom I quickly found. 
 Out of the door I went 
 
 With a hop, a skip and a bound. 
 
 Over tlie barbwire fence, 
 
 Quickly I was gone. 
 And the deep duck pond I waded. 
 
 With my white slippers on 
 And that beautiful white silk dress. 
 
 That my mother for me did get. 
 And really I don't believe 
 
 It has ever been paid for yet. 
 
 Peter yelled "Peggy, come back, 
 You are missing your very last 
 chance," 
 And the sacred truth he delivered, 
 
 As you can see by a glance. 
 Then a Scandinavian girl in the 
 audience, 
 Said "Oh ! it is such a disgrace, 
 If Peter would only let me I'd gladly 
 fill Peggie's place. " 
 
 102 
 
Peter hearing her and said : 
 "You are the proper one." 
 
 The minister finished the other ou 
 her 
 That on me he had begun. 
 
 In the most beautiful house in town, 
 Mr. and Mrs. McCoy you will see, 
 And it almost breakes my heart, 
 When I think it might have been me. 
 And my eyes svith tears are scalded, 
 
 When Ithink I help make the match 
 And count the little McCoys too, 
 
 Thicker than mushrooms in a patch. 
 Life may be hard for all. 
 
 And heavily with sorrow laid 
 But there is nothing quite so bad, 
 
 As being compelled to be an old 
 maid. 
 
 The Little Heroine. 
 
 Little Eva a beautiful child. 
 
 Of twelve years old was she, 
 Stood watching some children 
 
 On the bridge, playing in merry glee. 
 The tiresome noise of the citys din 
 
 Had worried the maiden fair 
 And she gently lolled on the mossy 
 bank 
 
 To braid her golden hair. 
 The ducks lightly buoyed o'er the 
 water, 
 
 That reflected each sunny beam, 
 And the clear bright sky above the lake 
 
 In etheral blue was seen. 
 "Just two hours," the children said 
 
 * ' Until the train goes by. 
 
 103 
 
We'll have time to go to the houes, 
 
 And return before then if we try. ' ' 
 A little babe of six months old 
 
 Was left alone on the track 
 And bade sit still upon the bridge 
 
 Until the children came back. 
 They were scarcely out of sight 
 
 When Eva's heart began to flutter, 
 She saw the train come 'roud the bend. 
 
 And not one word could she utter. 
 The puffing engine came rushing on 
 
 In such rapid haste, 
 Toward the spot where the little one 
 
 Just one moment before was placed. 
 No one but Eva was near enough 
 
 To know the terribe fate. 
 And if she should stop to give warning 
 
 All efforts would be too late. 
 She breathed a prayer to lier God 
 
 Tlien by a resolute act, 
 She ran upon tlie fatal bridge, 
 
 For the train, it could not slack, 
 By steady nerve and immortal strength 
 
 In her arms the babe she grasped. 
 "The only chance to save our lives, 
 
 Is to swing from the bridge, she 
 gasped. 
 By one wild glance she spied a studen 
 
 Upon which her feet could rest 
 And down upon the pier she swung 
 
 With the little one close to her 
 breast. 
 Those tiny arms around her neck, 
 
 When her feet the studen touched, 
 And a bar of iron, which she just 
 
 104 
 
could reach 
 
 With a vice 1 ite-grtitp she clutched 
 There she was in that perilous place 
 
 Holding her panting breath, 
 Conscious of the chances she ran, 
 
 In meeting a horrible death. 
 O'er her rushed the maddened train 
 
 Defying every brake. 
 Below her the deep dark waters 
 
 Of St. Croix's Lake. 
 The heavy weight shook the bridge, 
 
 As though it was very frail. 
 And every moment it seemed to Eva 
 As though her strength would fail. 
 As firm as rock was the steady nerve 
 
 Of the heroine inspired. 
 And the gathering crowd sent shouts 
 ot joy 
 
 To the maid whom all admired. 
 No sooner had the train gone by 
 
 Than a boat came sailing near, 
 To rescue Eva and the babe. 
 
 Who were now trembling with fear. 
 The swathy hand of a sturd yman 
 
 From the pier lifted the maid. 
 And on the bottom of the deck, 
 
 Her fainting form they laid. 
 A ghastly look came over her face, 
 
 Then heaved her little breast, 
 One struggle for anotlier breath, 
 
 And she sank to rest. 
 The exertion was too much for her. 
 
 The generous spirit had fled. 
 And many gathered upon the boat, 
 
 105 
 
Where tlie little maid lies dead. 
 la the beautiful city cemetery, 
 
 One sepulcher stuuds alone 
 And near it this epitaph is written, 
 
 Upon a magnificent stone. 
 "This monument was erected, 
 
 To mark the sacred grave, 
 Where the corpse of little Eva lies, 
 
 One of the heroes brave. ' ' 
 When all of this fine marble, 
 
 Shall have mouldered and crumbled 
 away 
 The generous deed of Eva, 
 
 Sliall be as fresh as today. 
 The cooing doves proclaim it, 
 
 The wind softly sighs, 
 It sliall never be forgotten, 
 
 'Til mortal memory dies. 
 
 Why Katie McFinnigfan is a Widow 
 Today. 
 
 Just thirty years ago it is today, 
 
 Since Michel Finnigan came this way. 
 
 It was one Sunday just about noon. 
 
 Pa, ma and the parson were coming 
 home soon. 
 
 My ! what for a dinner my ma could 
 make. 
 
 The goose, the dumplings, the pies 
 and the cake 
 
 Then quick I heard a noise on the floor 
 
 And turning around there stood a man 
 by the door. 
 
 And he said : ' ' Good Lady I am al- 
 most dead 
 
 106 
 
starving I am for a piece of bread. 
 I tried hard all day long and no work 
 
 could I find, 
 And just for some dinner if you'll be 
 
 so kind. " 
 Then [ gives him the very best that 
 
 were got 
 I tells my ma the parson I thought 
 When it was all over my ma didn't 
 
 care. 
 She said good Proviendce mnst have 
 
 sent him there. 
 
 Tlien he sat down to the table and 
 
 ate 
 Soon he says "What is your name?" 
 
 I said "it is Kate. " 
 Then he said "O Katie, my dear, 
 
 bless your sweet life, 
 It's Michael McFlinnigan wants you 
 
 for his wife. 
 What for a chance, and my very first 
 
 one. 
 This was to get married a.nd that so 
 
 soon. 
 When pa, ma and the parson come I 
 
 cant' say, 
 But I was Mrs. McFlinnigan before 
 
 the end of that day. 
 
 Now fourteen children we have just 
 
 the same 
 And a daughter that married O'Brien 
 
 by name. 
 There is Johnnie and .Timmie, and 
 
 Barnie and Pete, 
 And wee lirtle Mikie, oh he is so 
 
 107 
 
sweet 
 But the girls are freckled, red lieaded 
 
 like their dad as you see, 
 And not one of them there that is 
 
 handsome like me. 
 All the years I've worked hard to 
 
 keep them in bread. 
 With shoes on their feet and hats on 
 
 their heads 
 And all of this time Mike he would 
 
 tell 
 Of the days that were coming when 
 
 he'd make a pile 
 Of the towns he would own and rail- 
 roads he'd buy 
 And the castles he'd build clear up to 
 
 the sky 
 And if I'd patiently wait and see, 
 The President in the White House 
 
 some day he'd be. 
 But as for work — it wasn't in Mike, 
 I never could get him to do one lick. 
 When I came out of the field today. 
 There he sat smoking and reading 
 
 away, 
 Says I "Now Mike and you hoot for 
 
 the barn. 
 Or faith, and you'll wish you'd never 
 
 been born. " 
 And not since we've been husband 
 
 and wife 
 Did Mike ever move so fast in his life. 
 He seemed to know right by the 
 
 white of my eye 
 The best thing he could do was to fly 
 
 108 
 
Aud the brick that I warm and put 
 
 under the bread 
 I just let it fly right square at his 
 
 head, 
 And the stove lid I threw at his 
 
 back 
 Went through the door with a ter- 
 rible crack. 
 I turned around to my eldest son Pat 
 He looked just lik'e his dad and I 
 
 liked him for that, 
 I said to the rest, "If you open your 
 
 head, 
 Yu'U pile in a heap there under the 
 
 bed." 
 I get awful mad and don't let it out, 
 But this time for sure I just had to 
 
 spout. 
 
 Then some one says: "Katie, dear, 
 
 dont' you love your poor Mike, 
 And havent' you any mercy when he 
 
 is sick, 
 I've a cramp in my back and a fever 
 
 in my head, 
 And a pain in my side and I must go 
 
 to bed. 
 And Katie, dear Katie, oh! you are 
 
 so good. 
 If you just get a little supper and 
 split a little wood. ' ' 
 I hikes out of the window as soft as 
 
 I can 
 And creeps around the house with the 
 
 mop in my hand 
 
 109 
 
But sure and I think he is onto the 
 
 sound 
 For quick and he clears the gate with 
 
 a bound 
 A nd off for the barn vve race like deer 
 I tried awful hard, but I couldn't get 
 
 near 
 He scares the wits ont of my old beast 
 
 of a cow, 
 And just like a cat he goes into the 
 
 mow. 
 
 Said X, "Now Michael, a clmuge 
 
 there'll be 
 You'll out in the field and you'll work 
 
 with me, 
 You'll dig the potatoes,, you wnll 
 
 hoe in tlie corn 
 You'll feed the chickens .and pigs 
 
 every night and morn 
 And if you an't oat of bed before 
 
 ten, — 
 I'll have a divorce and get mnrried 
 
 again. ' ' 
 
 Tlien he said "Katie, dear Katie, I 
 
 am tired of my life 
 When I think I have got such a cruel 
 
 wife." 
 And a strap that's made fast awsy 
 
 up in the mow 
 He puts it around his neck and some 
 
 how 
 And just as I gives the board a wee tip 
 And into the air my Mike he slips 
 And the rest is painful and sad. 
 
 110 
 
When I think I could have been so 
 
 crael and bad 
 Now all the flowers I can save 
 1 carry them out and put on Mike's 
 
 grave 
 And that is exactly precisely the way 
 That Katie McFlinnigan is a widow 
 
 today. 
 
 Fritz in the Hop Yard. 
 
 Theodore Zederman wrote a letter and 
 
 said 
 "Or ne work in my hop yard my dear 
 
 Fred" 
 Says he "there's no use of your be- 
 ing poor 
 When two piles of money and five 
 
 pounds more 
 You can make if you work tor me 
 So if you have eyes just use them to 
 
 see, 
 This generous offer I make to you 
 For the best of wages with little to 
 
 do, 
 For the pulling of poles, and measur- 
 ing hops, 
 The raising of wires and letting down 
 
 props. ' ' 
 
 Now when the Great Eastern left 
 
 Liverpool, 
 For America Fritz was was eager to go 
 For the wonderful land of corn and 
 
 wine, 
 Where gold can easily earn or find, 
 One week he got the letter no more 
 
 111 
 
He stood at Theodore Zederniau's door. 
 The bargain was made what Teddy 
 
 should pay 
 For easy work Fritz awaited the day. 
 His task begau with little to do, 
 His first day was his last one too. 
 A pretty young girl whispered and 
 
 said, 
 "What is your name" Fritz answered 
 
 "tis Fred." 
 She says, "now Fredrick now ion't 
 
 go away, 
 But sit on the hopper and pick hops 
 
 while you stay. " 
 Fritz was scarcely seated when a 
 crippled old man 
 Said "liere now give me a lift if 
 you can. 
 Quick to his feet and ready to go 
 When a voice rang out "hopper moved 
 
 ne is slow. ' ' 
 Said another "don't keep me waiting 
 
 a year. 
 Now, for to measure, come right 
 
 along here. ' ' 
 Fritz, over his shoulder his eyes he 
 
 did roll 
 When Mother Jones' voice rang out 
 "Hop-pole, hop-pole, hop-pole, Fritz 
 
 what are yDu about," 
 In every direction a voice rang out. 
 Fritz started backward as he'd been 
 
 taught 
 To wait on the ladies first as he ought. 
 
 112 
 
•"Wire up" says one, **wire down I 
 
 say, 
 * * Hurry up, Fritz, and come this way, ' ' 
 "'Measure, hop- pole" in a chorus 
 
 rang out. 
 Some of them scold and others they 
 
 shout. 
 Then the boss says, *Tritz, why stand 
 
 like a dunce. 
 Can't you move in forty directions 
 
 at once. 
 Fetch on some sacks through the 
 
 wire, as you 
 Empty the box, and don't be so slow. 
 Move up that hopper, and hold up 
 
 the props. 
 Dump that basket and pick up those 
 
 hops." 
 Fritz started forward then turning 
 
 around 
 Caught his foot in a vine and fell to 
 
 the ground. 
 He quickly rolled over, then standing 
 
 upright 
 With doubled up fist he was ready 
 
 to fight. 
 Says he ** Theodore Zedermon, I owe 
 
 to you, 
 This wonderful job with nothing to do, 
 And if ever again you strike such a 
 
 snap. 
 Pass it down the line to some other 
 
 chap. 
 I want no more of your hop yard here, 
 
 113 
 
I'll take my hops in a glass of beer; 
 
 And in Fatherland, I'll live where 
 
 There is plenty of work. I am going 
 back there." 
 
 And whosoever picks hops will un- 
 derstand why 
 
 Fritz bade us an everlasting goodby. 
 
 Crushed By Mighty Words. 
 
 Play for children. 
 
 Lady, and colored expressman 
 carrying parcel, enter the stage. 
 
 Sambo, ( colored expressman ) : " Say 
 Missa if yu dun say ober a few big 
 words ober to me on de way down to 
 de depot dis ere old man will be ex- 
 tremely disobliged to yu. " 
 
 Lady: "How big words do you 
 want Sambo?" 
 
 Sambo: "Can't get 'em too big 
 Missa," (measuring with his hands 
 as on the largeness of the words) "Ize 
 a powerfulhand for remembering big 
 words and getting dem off when a 
 calamtous occasion predominates. 
 Spell em out right now Missa, and 
 dis old nigger won't forget you when 
 watermellon season comes round 
 again." 
 
 Lady: "You don't expect to find 
 use forthem this morning do you?" 
 
 Sambo: "I reckon I does. My son 
 Abraham works down to de depot 
 and wheneber I comes round he tries 
 
 114 
 
to sliow off ober me and makes me 
 feel smalJ. " (Measuring with his 
 hands a small distance from the floor. ) 
 "He will try it on for sore dis very 
 morning and I just want to be done 
 fixed to paralyse his desirability." 
 
 Lady: "Well, come along Sambo 
 and don't let me miss the trani and 
 I'll give you a choice assortment of 
 Websters vocabrlaric curiosities." 
 
 Exit — Sambo carrying parcels. 
 
 Enter second colored boy, Abraham, 
 swinging a switch and looking as if 
 exi)ecting some one. 
 
 Sambo enters, carrying parcels. 
 
 Abraham, waving switch, "Hi! 
 oh! dar old man, han't I done told 
 you these fonr hundred times not to 
 stacousate that stupendous old vehicle 
 in the way of the omnibuses? Some 
 old niggers have no more consang- 
 uinity of rectitude than a squash." 
 
 Sambo, setting parcels down and 
 looking up defiantly: "Was you 
 dun spoken to me sir. " 
 
 Abraham: "Corse I was, nigger." 
 
 Sambo, with gesture, while Abra- 
 ham catches his breath at each ex- 
 postulation: "Den I vant you to 
 distinctly understand dat when de 
 cooperation of imperialism seem to as- 
 sumulate a disreputable infringment 
 on hereditary avaraciousness I will 
 retract my individualty — not before. 
 
 115 
 
Sir, not before, sir. " 
 
 Abraham, st«*ggering and droppinj^r 
 his switch: "By George Washington 
 things are getting so mixed up that 
 for certain I don't know whether I'm 
 his son or he is my father. *' 
 
 Sambo, motioning to the parcels, 
 and picking up Abraham's switch : 
 *'Den catch hold here Abraham and 
 elevate these accumulated miscellane- 
 ous arti'-les and never again, my son, 
 let your aristocratic proclivities pre- 
 dominate ober your venerated ances- 
 tors. " 
 
 Exit Abraham carrying parcels and 
 Sambo swinging the switch. 
 
 Bird Life. 
 
 Five little ones huddled together 
 
 Guarded with care by father and 
 mother, 
 
 At the slightest noise there opened 
 to be fed 
 
 Five little mouths of the brightest 
 red. 
 
 Day by day they rapidly grew. 
 
 Sorrow and care they never knew. 
 
 God's goodness predominated the air, 
 
 And nature's perfections were every- 
 where. 
 
 When papa in the evening sang some- 
 times, 
 
 His songs seem sweeter than vesper 
 chimes, 
 
 116 
 
And mamnaa's warbles so soft they 
 
 seem, 
 Like the angel bird of a fairy dream. 
 But alas ! One day a man passed by 
 And with his steady aim and eye 
 Mamma fell at the terrible blow. 
 And our lot was changed from weal 
 
 to woe. 
 
 Five little birds lacked for care, 
 And papa's screams echoed through 
 
 the air. 
 Next morn the nest was a pitif al sight, 
 For four little birds had died that 
 
 night. 
 
 One survived the truth to find. 
 
 With as keen a sense as the human 
 
 mind, 
 That man's destruction of birds will 
 
 make 
 And wreck their homes for fashion's 
 
 sake. 
 The remaining bird, that was now 
 
 full grown. 
 In quest of food from its nest hap 
 
 flown, 
 And startling, paused in its aerial flight 
 For his mother's plumage met his 
 
 sight. 
 Going home from church that day, 
 Was a lady clad in costly array. 
 The crime of paint on her hands and 
 
 face 
 Might adorn a warrior of the savage 
 
 117 
 
race. 
 On the hat of this lady that seemecS 
 
 so fair 
 Tlie stuffed mother bird was erected 
 
 there 
 Her glassy eyes glared from under the 
 
 crest 
 Her little one chilled and died in the 
 
 nest. 
 Why do women create the fashion 
 Of wearing these plumes of a heathen- 
 ish fashion, 
 And making the world desolate far 
 
 and near, 
 By the millions of birds slaughtered 
 
 each year. 
 Oh! that the Great Creator's art, 
 Should be so lacking in any part. 
 That his deficiency should demand 
 Women to rob the sea and land. 
 
 The Union is All Right. 
 
 Be true to the Union wherever you 
 
 oam, 
 
 And you'll be true to your country, 
 
 Your God and your home. 
 
 Say just what you mean, 
 
 Then do as you say 
 
 And united as brothers we are sure of 
 
 the day. 
 
 My grandfather came from across the 
 
 sea, 
 Where they never heard of union and 
 
 harmony 
 
 118 
 
Where every man was in for himself 
 as you know. 
 
 On that " Green Isle"" where the mur- 
 phies grow" 
 
 And when they once listended to free- 
 dom's call 
 
 Old England, she had it in for them 
 
 all. 
 
 Grandmother was an advocate of peace 
 
 John Quincy Adams, eldest neice, 
 
 Kind, good, handsome and neat 
 
 And for tidiness could not be beat. 
 
 Just like the Union girls of today. 
 
 Admired by all in the same way. 
 
 When we moved upon the hill 
 
 Grandfather worked at the woolen 
 mill. 
 
 Just at the time when it '^ stood in 
 hand^' 
 
 For the Union men to make a stand. 
 
 Grandafther says "You dont' get m« 
 in, 
 
 But hurrah for Old Ireland and th« 
 side that will win, 
 
 I'm on the fence to see the fun, 
 
 If things get too hot, I'm ready to 
 run 
 
 Then next year I'll be boss at the 
 mill 
 
 And the proprietors will remember me 
 in their \^11. " 
 
 Then grandmother looked as if she had 
 soured 
 
 And turned and called grandpa a 
 
 119 
 
coward. 
 Said Bhe "If Lincoln had lived their 
 
 cause to plead 
 He would have bid the Union God 
 
 speed. 
 
 Kind and generous and just to all 
 Responsive to his country's call; 
 A man not afraid of his word nor his 
 
 work 
 And never a duty was known to shirk, 
 Just like the Union men gf today 
 And upheld the laborer in the same 
 
 way. 
 
 And the Union girls are the proper 
 
 kind 
 True and pure as you will ever find, 
 With a soul to do and a will to dare. 
 And joyfully in the labor share." 
 I was peeping in throagli a crack 
 And heard my grandfather say he'd 
 
 take it all back. 
 Said he, '"The Union is all very fine 
 As sure as BoDypart crossed the 
 
 Rhine 
 And the Union folks they can't be 
 
 beat. 
 Please mam, let me get onto my feet, 
 And never again from my lips shall 
 
 be heard 
 Against the Union another word." 
 
 Then grandfather came to where I was 
 
 hid 
 And made an apologj , so that he did. 
 
 120 
 
Says he "'yon was born on St. Pat- 
 rick's day 
 And I'm in for having you on the 
 
 right way 
 And whither, or not, yoa work at the 
 
 mill, 
 Yon'll belong to the Union, so that 
 
 you will. 
 Then I'll be great and good as I can, 
 And join the Union when Pm a man 
 Then VU be sure of a happy life 
 If I just get a Union girl for my wife. " 
 
 Artisian Assembly. 
 
 (Special. ) 
 
 There is a land, the saints all tell ns, 
 
 Where genial fellowship rules the heart 
 
 And our mothers bade us seek that 
 realm 
 
 Where the faithful never part. 
 
 I have a brother both great and good. 
 
 And not mnay years ago 
 
 To ward off fate against wife and babe 
 
 He joined the **Red Cross" you know. 
 
 Let me tell you now that this is a 
 secret 
 
 I promised so faithfully I'd never dis- 
 close 
 
 The name of the order I never have 
 told it 
 
 Just you and I and no one else knows. 
 
 So pledge on your honor, I know I 
 can trust you, 
 
 No one word of which you ever will 
 
 121 
 
tell 
 'Tis peculiar to me how women are 
 
 gifted 
 In keeping their secrets so well. 
 
 A banker, a merchant, a lawyer all 
 
 three, 
 Advised him but one thing to do, 
 To unite witli their order and wander 
 
 no farther 
 And sliare with their friends tried 
 
 and true. 
 But as good intermingling with the 
 
 evils directed 
 He shunned all society, until at last 
 Vouchsafe for himself and his family 
 You will find for him as one of your 
 
 members steadfast. 
 
 And now he will tell you for uplift- 
 ing manliood 
 
 For fellowship genial, noble and 
 true. 
 
 Seek the place where destiny led him 
 
 For tliat is an order that will never 
 
 break through. 
 
 So let us profit by his example 
 Trusting not tlie outer world for pity 
 But send in your application card 
 To the Artisan Assembly of Oregon 
 
 City. 
 In the assembly where all is love 
 A record of^our work liere below. 
 With a golden pen is kept you know 
 By the white winged secretary above. 
 
 122 
 
As soon as on the armor girds 
 The critical world he mast mand 
 Proving the Artisan pledge to stand 
 For more than a bable of words. 
 There's labor for each individual one, 
 Conscious of my vows shall I 
 Ignore my task, and passing by 
 Leave duty still undone? 
 
 Where is he, who, with toil is im- 
 pressed, 
 
 Then is it loyal to wait and see, 
 
 If another will visit the sick for me, 
 
 And believe I merit the reward of 
 the blest. 
 
 Other examples from memory may 
 fade, 
 
 But Elazerath at the gate. 
 
 With the rich man in state, 
 
 Immortal the vision is made. 
 
 In daily life we are made the better, 
 
 As in the darkening hour, 
 
 We feel the eternal power. 
 
 That can sever each earthly fetter. 
 
 Immutable law of heaven ! 
 
 Divine Master Artisan by Thee 
 
 Author of fealty 
 
 Our perfect example is given. 
 
 Wealth in rapidity vanishes away, 
 
 Doomed to oblivion, dust and decay 
 
 But principles are as eternal as the sun 
 
 And impressed from childhood one 
 by one. 
 
 123 
 
The Jealous Wife. 
 You often tell me that I am cruel 
 And that Josiah is abused. 
 But now listen one moment, 
 And I'll break you the latest news. 
 Blessed the mortals 
 That through life may go 
 Without having experienced 
 Love's passionate flow. 
 With increasing disgust 
 I recall the mistake of mine 
 How in my love blind weakness 
 I knelt at an earthly shrine. 
 I know I'm not handsome^ like Josiah 
 And twenty years older than he. 
 I used to be a loving wife. 
 Kind and gentle as could be. 
 This hypocritical story 
 To me Josiah would often tell, 
 For a woman to control the finance 
 He argued, didn't look well. 
 All who knew it said I was foolish 
 When on my wedding day 
 I drew a check on the First National 
 
 Bank 
 And signed five thousand dollars away. 
 Oh! the flattery and blarney that 
 
 followed 
 And I took it all down at once. 
 But we'd not been married one week 
 When I saw I'd been made a dunce. 
 I eagerly think of that day 
 What a blunder I made I can see. 
 I wonder if love ever made such a goose 
 
 124 
 
Of any one else but me. 
 
 My friends in my face would laugh 
 
 And say, "for yon Josiah doesn't care 
 
 Oh ! Florence Mariah, 'tis only the gold 
 
 That is the attraction there." 
 
 On his deceptive word I placed my 
 
 hope, 
 Though the truth I plainly saw, 
 I grappled at each delusive fate, 
 Like a drowning man at a straw. 
 Now to my face the facts lie'd express 
 More and more miserable I grew each 
 
 day. 
 Trustful and patient, obedient and 
 
 faithful, 
 One year and three months wore away. 
 When across my path came this final 
 
 letter, 
 A ridiculous thing as you &ee 
 Addressing Josiah in affectionate terms 
 And me, his wife, as the infiintive 
 
 she. 
 With a Miss Sarah Oatinjamer. 
 Josiah had fajlen in love, 
 And they had been corresponding 
 As named in the letter above. 
 Vindictive, unmerciful, relentless, 
 Day by day excited I grew. 
 Love turned to revenge is the bitter- 
 est thing 
 That mortal on earth ever knew. 
 Josiah seem to delight 
 In destroying the harmonious path 
 But I was determined to make him 
 
 125 
 
feel 
 Tlie depth of a woman '^s wratlr. 
 A spell took me of a sadden, 
 Just trust me for being sick, 
 And I sent for my husband to come 
 And bricg tlie doctor quick. 
 The physician he brought was a cau- 
 tion 
 For, by profession he stood 
 As one who would increase his trade 
 In every way that he could 
 When he came to doctor the well. 
 He prepared them for the hurse 
 And when he cured the sick 
 He always made them worse. 
 As soon as I saw him coming 
 I began to moan, 
 But I kept near the window 
 So tiiey could hear each groan. 
 There was the noted physician 
 To keep me from getting worse 
 And Sally, the author of that letter, 
 Josiah brought home for a nurse. 
 They all came rushing in 
 The hired girl leading the way, 
 It could be plainly seen 
 She thought she'd come to stay. 
 Josiah placed his arms around me 
 And said, "Oh ! my dear little wife. '* 
 Twas the first time he'd said such a 
 
 thing 
 In all of our wedded life. 
 To be called little dear 
 126 
 
How pretty it truly did soand, 
 
 Btu Josiah woaldu't thought of it 
 
 If Sally hadn't been around. 
 
 You can plainly see what prospects 
 
 They both had in view. 
 
 Oh ! how I wanted to chuckle 
 
 But of course that wouldn't do. 
 
 And just think, he kissed me. 
 
 Then pretended to cry.; 
 
 I carefully peeped to see 
 
 And there wasn't a tear in his eye. 
 
 As spasm I quickly had 
 
 Up to the latest date. 
 
 And they lay nae back on the pillow 
 
 In a very critical state. 
 
 Their medicine they had for me 
 
 But as soon as t'^e doctor turned about 
 
 1 filled the bottle with water 
 
 After dumping the mixture out. 
 
 They poured it into a teaspoon 
 
 And gave it to me with care 
 
 I suppose they tliought it was poison 
 
 Carefully compounded there. 
 
 Sally, that audacious creature. 
 
 All over the house did walk 
 
 One would have thought her the 
 
 mistress 
 To liave heard her talk. 
 When Josiah came home at night 
 He was overly good. 
 He thoughtfully carried the water 
 And split every stick of the wood. 
 He didn't complain as usual 
 Not one cross word did he say 
 
 127 
 
About how bad he felt 
 
 And how hard he worked that day. 
 
 And as they sat at the table 
 
 Josiah was so polite. 
 
 How nice he waited on Sally 
 
 He thought I was oat of sight. 
 
 You can't make me believe 'twas 
 
 wicked 
 Nor what I did was a sin. 
 I carefully peeped thrugh the keyhole 
 And took the performance in. 
 Josiah complimented her looks 
 And told her she was fair, 
 B elieving I eagerly longed 
 To have them both by the hair. 
 The scripture strictly command us 
 Evil not to know, 
 And I suppose it is the happiest 
 Way through life to go. 
 It has been my experience, 
 Let me tell you this, 
 That tliose who look for evil 
 Will find it without amiss. 
 Josiah said che supper was excellent 
 The house was as tidy as could be ; 
 How often he'd wished his wife 
 Was a good cook like she. 
 Then that villianous fellow 
 Went so far as to say 
 That her biscuits were the best 
 He'd eaten in many a day. 
 As his praises expanded, 
 I couldn't stand any more 
 I trembled every moment 
 
 128 
 
Fearing IM break through the door. 
 
 I quickly sprang into bed 
 
 And gave a terrible groan 
 
 Au:i after a choking cough 
 
 I finish with a hideous moan. 
 
 Do you think I'd die to please them? 
 
 Perhaps it isn't right 
 
 But my sole life's object 
 
 Is just to live for spite. 
 
 Afl Old Man's Honey. 
 
 Just have an insurance upon your 
 
 life 
 When you think of the greyhaired 
 
 man with his wife 
 Who enter the ball with a feeble 
 
 tread. 
 Along with the baby he has wed. 
 They rivet the center of attraction 
 
 there 
 By standing still for a moment to 
 
 stare 
 Awkwardly whirling as if in a trance, 
 Retreating like one in St. Vitus dance, 
 They hop around there in mid air 
 And bump against each dancing pair. 
 Plunging forward, as if it all cost, 
 Together, to gather the notes they 
 
 had lost. 
 A look o'er the female face aoes stray 
 And in hope of conquest glides away 
 While wistful glances haunt some spot 
 But alas! it is a forbbidden lot; 
 And more acute is her present state 
 She blushing consigns herself to fate. 
 
 129 
 
A smile goes around for the greyheadj. 
 That had better adopted than to 
 
 have wed, 
 And for love of renown will not for- 
 feit his place 
 To one that might fill it with natural 
 
 grace. 
 What heart would not be sadly riven 
 To think such matches were made in 
 
 heaven. 
 The old and young now passing seem 
 Like the clipping of some fairy dream. 
 Turning again to see him there. 
 This aged man with his gray hair, 
 And tottering steps with an infant 
 
 child. 
 Turning again we throttle a smile 
 And ponder over the proverb given 
 "Earth's whitest points are nearest 
 
 heaven. " 
 Seldom if ever doth appear 
 The trio that is blended here 
 Of age and beauty and of bliss. 
 Oh, what a wonderous mixture this, 
 For the aged heart is not wrung 
 With the excuses it bears for the young. 
 'Tis natural enough to be lovers of 
 
 money 
 But excuse us all from an old man's 
 
 honey. 
 
 Carrie Nation in Our Town. 
 
 It seemed to go with lightning speed, 
 The ringing of doorbells and spread- 
 
 130 
 
ing the plans, 
 The message was echoed far and near. 
 And the evening papers reported tlie 
 
 same, 
 
 A party in the Weinhard parlor sat 
 Playing cards and supped their ale. 
 Says Brown 'On tlie eight fifteen 
 
 tomorrow 
 Carrie Nation will be here without 
 
 fail. '^ 
 Was the very same Judge Brown you 
 
 know 
 That bonght a poodle dog on Christ- 
 mas day, 
 So when he got so full he couldn't 
 
 get home, 
 His wife wouldn't miss him when he 
 
 stayed away. 
 "Have you heard the wonderful 
 
 news?" 
 Said Mrs. A. as she called to Mrs. B. 
 *' Tomorrow Carrie Nation will be 
 
 in our town" 
 And they ; both ran together to tell 
 
 Mrs. C. 
 The Bartender said, in the saloon on 
 
 the corner. 
 As he held up the paper and turned 
 
 around, 
 ** We'll be on the lookout tomorrow 
 For my best girl is coming to town. " 
 The doctor, that baldheaded pirate, 
 Leaned over the bar and tipped his 
 
 131 
 
A physician by name and a murderer 
 by practice, 
 
 Winked his eye, and these compli- 
 ments passed : 
 
 •'Here is health to you and your pros- 
 perous trade 
 
 And Carrie Nation and her little 
 hatchet. 
 
 Let her tomorrow do the worst she is 
 able, 
 
 I trust, my friend, you are all able to 
 match it." 
 
 Next morning before the arrival of 
 the train 
 
 What a consternation took place. 
 
 The eyes that were eager to get a 
 glimpse 
 
 Of that desperate effiminatical face. 
 
 The blacksmith, butcher, baker and 
 merchant, 
 
 All were awaiting Carrie to meet. 
 
 The lawyer, mechanic, priest, parson, 
 saloonist. 
 
 And even the farmer helped to block 
 up the street. 
 
 Carry did come and the first thing she 
 said: 
 
 •'For an interview with the Gov- 
 ernor will I have a show?" 
 
 "He's at the Capital of the state," 
 a small boy said 
 
 "Where the criminals and idiots all 
 
 go." 
 Then she called for the mayor, but 
 
 132 
 
no response 
 Being duly warned of the eventful 
 
 day, 
 More quickly than usual he swallowed 
 
 his breakfast 
 And now he was cautiously hidden 
 
 away. 
 
 Immediately in the courthouse she 
 found him, 
 
 And laying hold of the mayor like 
 this : 
 
 By the ear, she walked him into the 
 street, 
 
 Explaining every word with an em- 
 phatical twist. 
 
 Says Carrie: "Prohibition is pro- 
 claimed through the land 
 
 So gather your dear little herd. 
 
 Don't you dare to disobey my command 
 
 Before I leave I shall speak a tem- 
 perance word. ' ' 
 
 The mayor grappled his hat with one 
 hand. 
 
 Trembling in his boots and shaking 
 with fear. 
 
 Says he "Dear madam, I will if I 
 can." 
 
 And with one final twist liberated 
 his ear. 
 
 "I've an engagement, excuse me, 
 please do, 
 
 Time is very precious," he said. 
 
 With coat tails a flopping he ran down 
 the street 
 
 133 
 
Like an arrow around the corner he 
 
 sped. 
 How they laughed when Carrie in- 
 quired, 
 If the reprobate court was in session 
 
 there 
 And down it came on the unlucky 
 
 head, 
 The u nbrella she elevated in air. 
 She rampaged the court house through 
 
 and through 
 Preaching as much as she was able, 
 And the county judge but saved his 
 
 neck, 
 By hiding clear under the table. 
 Carrie next came to a cigar stand. 
 Says she: "I bring you this news. 
 With soap and water the mouth must 
 
 be washed 
 Of whomsovever tobacco will use." 
 She next climbed a flight of steps 
 And opened the door of a chamber 
 
 there. 
 The lawyer said ''What can I do for 
 
 you dear?" 
 Now assuming his pretty air. 
 Said Carrie "Now to confess, I come ; 
 I am hunting for a temperance man 
 And if you want me to reform your 
 
 town 
 And wish to help me I know you 
 
 can. ' ' 
 Into his reading room the lawyer 
 
 ran 
 
 134 
 
As he heard these words in fright. 
 He cored his breath of its liquor taint 
 And put glasses and bottles out of 
 
 sight, 
 Then he turned to his prohibitional 
 
 saint 
 Says he "The sheriff you'll meet, 
 And just like me he is a temperance 
 
 man. 
 You'll find him down the street." 
 As Carry stepped back to the head of 
 
 the stair, 
 How his eyes with mirth did gleam, 
 And he chuckled as soon as he shut 
 
 the door 
 And from the window watched his 
 
 scheme. 
 The dignified Senator she next met 
 Who cautiously made his bow, 
 And unsuccessfully tried to turn aside 
 But Carrie had him buttonholed now. 
 "The saloons in town must all be 
 
 closed. 
 My petition I want you to hear. " 
 He seemed somehow to refuse her re- 
 quest. 
 And Carry just boxed his ear. 
 Before the eventful day was brought 
 
 to a close 
 There was an organized band, 
 All the women in the town were ready 
 To help Carry reform the land. 
 With pitchforks, hatchets and cleavers 
 They were now ready to fight. 
 
 135 
 
Every saloou in town would be leveled 
 "They'd annihilate the wrong and 
 
 preserve the right." 
 Just at noon she was mustering her 
 
 forces 
 And darkness struck the town 
 And when the sun returned its glit- 
 tering beams 
 Carrie was nowhere to be found. 
 
 Mrs. Coon to the Rescue. 
 
 There is a two story house, once 
 
 painted brown 
 With a high board fence erected all 
 
 around. 
 From the main street you can gaze 
 
 inside 
 Where Bartholomew Coons and his 
 
 family preside. 
 Mr. Coons is a man of dignified air 
 And to enter the clergy once did 
 
 prepare, 
 But the laws of religion were too 
 
 binding and strict 
 And with his disposition did often 
 
 conflict. 
 When free silver was at the height of 
 
 its boom 
 He entered tlie bar and improving the 
 
 room 
 By denouncing Mark Hanna, he 
 
 quickly began 
 To uphold the supporters of sixteen to 
 
 one. 
 
 136 
 
Before Cleveland returned from col 
 
 storage once more, 
 Or Bryan was npset on the political 
 
 shaft. 
 Now the nps and downs of his neigh- 
 bor's affairs 
 He watched with most uncommon 
 
 care. 
 A fraternal member he bore the name 
 And did ample credit to the same, 
 Binding in obligation every one 
 By the small kindness he had done. 
 Yet rejoicing to see a beginning strife 
 For to him it meant a prosperous life, 
 Until he found he was ground and 
 
 couldn't climb farther. 
 Fearing a fall decided to retire, 
 But this is more easily said than done, 
 He made several attempts but no last- 
 ing one. 
 To mind his own affairs he unsuccess- 
 fully tried 
 And had he succeeded he surelv would 
 
 have died. 
 Mrs. Coon had been born in the Wol- 
 verine state 
 And must have accomplished wonders 
 
 both good and great 
 For her husbands short comings made 
 
 repairs 
 By a strict adherence to her own 
 affairs. 
 
 The only one to overcome the fault 
 Since Lot's wife was turned to a 
 
 137 
 
pillar of salt. 
 By investigation the truth you'll find. 
 Was in her being both deaf, dumb and 
 
 blind. 
 
 The Western Wilds. 
 
 From Helena, Montana 
 
 One hundred eighty miles 
 
 In spite of the scattered ranches, 
 
 It bears the name of the wilds 
 
 From tlie fertile valley 
 
 The Indians were driven by the whites. 
 
 Yet from underneath the sagebrush 
 
 The Indian asserts his rights. 
 
 Whenever lone herdsman 
 
 Or hunter chances to spy, 
 
 The crack of his ready rifle 
 
 Tells that he is nigh. 
 
 The mounds of sand are intercepted 
 
 By sage brush alone 
 
 Only in the valley 
 
 That vegetation is grown. 
 
 The happy cowboy now whistles 
 
 His familiar tunes 
 
 Arrayed with his sombrero 
 
 And leather pantaloons. 
 
 Unrestricted and daring 
 
 Or quarrelsome he may be 
 
 Reckless is his nature 
 
 Uncurbed in liberty. 
 
 Himself like the Indian 
 
 He fantastically adorns. 
 
 The lariet swings 
 
 And descends o'er the horns 
 
 138 
 
Of the wild steer 
 
 That now does his best 
 
 And the steed and the rider 
 
 Are brought out to a test. 
 
 The round up dny 
 
 Makes a general change, 
 
 When the cattle are driven 
 
 Prom off the range to avoid a stampede. 
 
 They earnestly strive 
 
 The young ones into 
 
 The coral they drive. 
 
 The hissing hot iron 
 
 They quickly prepare 
 
 The initial of the owner 
 
 Is now branded there. 
 
 The animal is mastered 
 
 In the following strife 
 
 And must wear the mark 
 
 For the rest of liis life. 
 
 The cowboy's attraction 
 
 Does chiefly consist 
 
 In hardships unnumbered 
 
 And dangers that exist. 
 
 When in dispute and anger 
 
 His opponent he assails 
 
 Quarrelsome lawlessness 
 
 Often prevails. 
 
 Mt. Hood. 
 
 Mt. Hood has worn for ages unknown 
 Her queenly robe on her majestic 
 
 throne. 
 Seed time and harvest may come and 
 
 may go, 
 
 139 
 
And this primeval goddesb from her 
 eternal snow 
 
 A smile of contentment o'er the valley- 
 does cast 
 
 Through summers bright sunshine and 
 winters fierce blasts 
 
 Ranier, Adams, Jefferson, St. Helens 
 companion slopes stand 
 
 As if equally obedient to serve her 
 command. 
 
 So beautifully arrayed in their heav- 
 enly white 
 
 The image of goodness, purity and 
 light. 
 
 No conspiracy a foothold on her king- 
 dom can gain 
 
 Only the transformation of systems 
 her reign can obtain. 
 
 Races of men return to the earth 
 
 And leave tshrouded in mystery their 
 primitive birth. 
 
 But constant through time from her 
 supreme white, 
 
 This goodness reflects her 'mpartial 
 light. 
 
 The laurel, the willow are beneatli 
 her form 
 
 Through summers frieght with sun- 
 shine and winter's fierce storms. 
 
 And peacefully at her majestical feet 
 
 The North and the South in friend- 
 ship meet. 
 
 Cities are erected amid her domains, 
 
 Her fertile valleys and upland plain 
 
 140 
 
Agricalture and manufacture both 
 
 have their place 
 Amid the industries of the prosperous 
 
 race. 
 Rivers winding from her feet toward 
 
 the bay. 
 Carry the produce of the valley away, 
 As swans over the water majestically 
 
 float, 
 The channel is dotted with many a 
 
 boat, 
 Advancing, increasing, improving, 
 
 all the while, 
 Yet at man's insignificance the moun- 
 tain does smile. 
 Far away on the hospital bed 
 Where the sufferer toss, his aching 
 
 head 
 This goddess transmits her reflected 
 
 light 
 As if it were the sheen of an angel 
 
 bright. 
 Alike in the home her gentle beams 
 Glide softly o'er the pillow where the 
 
 infant dreams 
 In her presence the thief laid his gold 
 And the perjerer of falsehood told, 
 Knowing each thought, she need not 
 
 guess 
 She sees the wishes we dare not 
 
 confess. 
 Eleven and twelve, fast flies the night 
 The lovers would stay its hasty flight. 
 Short are the hours of perfect bliss 
 
 141 
 
And Mt. Hood is thoughtful of this. 
 Towering toward heaven so proud, 
 Peering above the gathering cloud, 
 She encourages the moonbeams bright. 
 By reflection from her snowy white, 
 And at the close of the dreamy spell 
 Never a secret was known to tell. 
 She atches tne little nestling doe 
 That has been hid by the cautious roe. 
 Traces the mountain lions away 
 Sees the eagle rend its prey, 
 Standing there she never stirs 
 Triumphant above the tallest hrs, 
 She hears the coyote's dismal howl 
 Mingled with the hooting owl, 
 And never was known to expostulate 
 When the panther 's^screams reverbrate. 
 She watches the fish creep along the 
 
 fresh water edges 
 Depositing their eggs^in the sand on 
 
 the ledges 
 And bids them farewell when spawn- 
 ing season is o'er 
 When to the saltwater world they re- 
 turn once more, 
 The birds as they creep along on the 
 
 fern, 
 She gladly welcomes their yearly 
 
 return. 
 Guarding their morning-evening fare. 
 Consisting of abundance of berries 
 
 there, 
 And when the little ones are reared 
 and taught to fly 
 
 142 
 
The mountain bids them a cherry 
 good by. 
 
 Sacred history would have hallowed 
 
 her name 
 And in heathen lauds have spread her 
 
 fame. 
 If on Mt. Hood so cold and bare 
 
 Noah's arc had lauded there, 
 Trinmphant on her summit sat 
 instead the top of Mt. Ararat, 
 And the raven and dove from this 
 
 monntain so high 
 O'er the unmarged hillocks and val> 
 
 leys did fly. 
 Until the dove triumphant, carried 
 
 the spray 
 As a token of the deluge passing away. 
 Perhaps combustions are hidden with 
 
 care, 
 Compounded in natures labrafcory there 
 Bat with patience and piety the 
 
 mountain is blessed, 
 A.nd for ages her wrath has been sup- 
 pressed. 
 Time alone the secret can probe, 
 What is hidden underneath her white 
 
 robe, 
 By her eruptions tlie valley may be 
 
 defaced. 
 When the future in history has taken 
 
 its place. 
 Outward appearances is no guarantee, 
 Of what inward inclinations and com- 
 position be. 
 
 143 
 
In reading her history the school hOT 
 
 may hear 
 Like Lisbon's earthquake or volcanic 
 
 St. Pe er, 
 Desolation spread over the land 
 By the mountains revengful hand. 
 The whiteness of her companions has 
 
 marred. 
 By the eruption of their principal 
 
 guard. 
 
 Like the parent whose lips with oaths 
 
 are cursed 
 Stabs the moral heart of the child 
 
 he has nursed. 
 She emblematic of an eternal night 
 May be a teacher of darkness instead 
 
 of light. 
 Gulping forth her revengful wrath 
 Spreading destruction throughout 
 
 her path. 
 Her illuminous flame toward heaven 
 
 may point 
 
 Amid thunders equal to Simian's 
 
 roar. 
 The beasts of the fields and the fowls 
 
 of the air 
 Are all in complete subjection there. 
 Civilization in confidence rests, 
 Beneath the mountain's snowy crest. 
 Trusting, believing, returning to 
 
 dust, 
 Yet Mount Hood has not betrayed 
 
 her trust. 
 
 144 
 
A Woman's Invention. 
 
 A womaD's invention, what could it 
 be? 
 
 This almost insoluble mystery. 
 
 'Twas before the national lever touched 
 McKinley's hand, 
 
 And flnancial prosperity flooded the 
 land. 
 
 Before the destruction of the battle- 
 ship Maine, 
 
 Which wrought disaster to the king- 
 dom of Spain. 
 
 'Twas during Cleveland's second ad- 
 ministration 
 
 When Coxey's army started the notion 
 
 That Erastus proved though of sleep 
 he was fond, 
 
 To the morning alarm it was wise to 
 respond. 
 
 His mother would vocalize just in 
 this way : 
 
 ''Erastus, Oh ! Erastus, " she meekly 
 would say. 
 
 "Breakfast has been waiting I've 
 called you before ; 
 
 Now, if you must come, comejquickly, 
 I'll call you no more. " 
 
 With a moan and a groan he'd ejacu- 
 late, then. 
 
 Toss on his pillow for sleep once 
 again. 
 
 Soon his father would roar from the 
 foot of of the stair, 
 
 "Erastus, Erastus, your come out of 
 
 145 
 
there. " 
 
 With a "Yes I'am comiug" his 
 dreams he'd complete 
 
 Thougii fiercely liis parents their call 
 they'd repeat 
 
 Thus annoyed each morning too 
 often to mention. 
 
 His mother resolves on a final inven- 
 tion. 
 
 Her genius encouraged by a promising 
 charm. 
 
 From a dilapidated clock she extri- 
 cated the alarm. 
 
 Which she places, after setting with 
 uncommon care. 
 
 Where tlie spring vs^ould entangle and 
 mat in his hair. 
 
 Now wound, was awaiting for action 
 complete 
 
 Where Erastus is so sweetly on the 
 pillow asleep. 
 
 Morning dawns and her gentle sun- 
 beams 
 
 Flood the pillow with livid streams 
 
 . A buzz and a wh'rl like an earth- 
 quake shock 
 
 And visions of destruction o'er Eras- 
 tus flock. 
 
 In fright with one bound he sprung 
 on the floor. 
 
 Since that morning his mother repeats 
 lier call no more. 
 
 The Pansy Blossom. 
 Little pansy's welcome faces 
 
 146 
 
Peeping through the foilage green 
 Reflect each color of the rainbow 
 And all its mingled shades are seen 
 Purple velvet streaked with azure- 
 blue, 
 Ebony has marked the center, 
 Blended with her chosen hue. 
 Saffron turns to sunset golden 
 As it fades into the white. 
 All the colors of the prism 
 Are transmitted to the sight. 
 Brown and purple harmonize. 
 Crimson shades into pink, 
 While the little velvet centers 
 Into darkening oranges sink. 
 Eacli arrayed in chosen costume 
 In common of the sunlight share. 
 And the faces of the blossom 
 Express contentment resting there. 
 Who could dispute the little pansy, 
 Being nature, s favorite child, 
 For upon each passing stranger 
 She bestows her ready smile. 
 Nature hath in her provision 
 Furnished all the bloasom needs, 
 Until the bud has blossomed and 
 
 withered 
 And back to earth returns in seed. 
 Gold can not buy befitting raiment 
 Such as little pansies wear ; 
 But mortals might in like content- 
 ment 
 With the pansy blossoms share. 
 
 147 
 
^UG 21 1905 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 015 905 640 5