Class PS 1 ^5-^ 
 
 Book_Jh^ -/Vb- 
 Gopyright)^^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
MULTITOPICS. 
 
Dedicated to 
 Geoter Cleveland. 
 
 IMULTITOPICS 
 
 BY 
 
 Constantine M. F« Dressel, 
 
 AND 
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1900. 
 
 Author's Edition, 
 New York. 
 
THE LIBRARY OF] 
 
 CONGRESS, 1 
 
 Two COPtES 
 
 ReoEnfEO 
 
 MAY. 9 
 
 1901 
 
 Copyright 
 
 ENTRY 
 
 J^trr. 3o 
 
 f^oo 
 
 CLASS <5Lx3Sa Ha. 
 
 ^^Xo^ 
 
 COPY 
 
 « 
 
 75 /^^t 
 
 ■Quotations allowed if credited: 
 All other rights reserved. 
 
€'iSIES¥§ 
 
 OF THE FIRST PART OF MULTITOPICS. 
 
 — o — • Page, 
 
 Preamble 5 
 
 The Poem of Forest Life 7 
 
 Pensive Reflections 12 
 
 The Indian Summer 14 
 
 Poetry on Wisdom, and Separation 16 
 
 The Sail 17 
 
 An Aeorn Shower 21 
 
 Advice 22 
 
 The Poem of The Fiddler's Muse 24 
 
 A Flagration 26 
 
 Poetry on. The Peace Afore the Storm, and, The Storm. . . 30 
 
 Education 31 
 
 Valentio and Desdemoua 33 
 
 Dramatization of the Story of, Valentio and Desdemona. . . .38 
 
 A Poem on. The Eagle 52 
 
 In the Shades of Night 53 
 
 Some of my Book Friends 56 
 
 Mister Flemer and his Mule 57 
 
 A Bear Tale 59 
 
 Poem, At the Gate, and, A Catastrophe 60 
 
 The Poem on. A Cry of Night 62 
 
PREAMBLE. 
 
 NoT.V Bk.nk. 
 
 TIic'v are like essays, 
 Or iniscellanies, 
 Yet inultitopics. 
 
 PKEFACE is either the author's essoin ''' for the 
 existence of his book, or his enlightening 
 preliminary discourse, if not both, and ought 
 to introduce, what is worthy of perusal. In this res])ect 
 deficiency would l)eafault, and though the lecognition 
 of an error is naught to shame for, the consciousness of its 
 non-committance is paramount in self-satisfaction, and of 
 benefit, not only to ourselves, Imt also to our fellow-beings. 
 With these ends in view, I declare the copulation of 
 multi t and topics, J as the book itself, to be a creation 
 of my own. It is manifest to all versed in literature,S() nuich 
 is already written, that it is nearly impossible, to scribe 
 without stumbling in the ruts|| of other writers, with regard 
 to the themes; but that the literary merit lies in the different 
 workings of the subjects. The paths of learning are not 
 new; and only who deserves genius, is capa})le of originality , 
 and possessed of the recpiisite honor, industry, tenacity and 
 boldness, to pass adversity and attain immortal fame. 
 
 Books contril>ute much to intluence our actions, and 
 therefor should be elevating in morals, and aid us, like a 
 true friend, in present aims, or to iind fresh hopes for those 
 forsaken. Variety ever lends greater interest to work, and 
 thus in multito])ics or manytalks, as the name implies, my 
 
 ♦ excuse, t maiiA-. J talks. || tracks. 
 
6 
 
 inclination is towards promiscuity. Volume ought to be 
 less important than quality, for too many works, like most 
 orations, are not better for being lengtkly. The thoughts 
 should reilect urbanity ; and the phraseology is improved 
 by being comprehensible. To write is to be ambitious ; 
 and though a wish implies not its fulfilment, it has been 
 my desire, to scribe a volume, destined to breathe * to 
 posterity. I hold f the ostentatious conviction, that my 
 lofty aim is herewith accomplished, and own "l to have had 
 inspirations thereto. All it, I lived to deserve ; yet it 
 might be too venturesome, to entertain the wheedling 
 belief, that Multitopics would find universal appreciation, 
 for tastes differ, and some despise what others delight || ; 
 and it can hardly be otherwise, in this peculiar world, where 
 we suffer different rearings, or are thrown upon various 
 rocks, and retain heterogeneous impressions. However 
 Multi topics is more diverse than homogeneous, and who 
 find therein nothing to satiate their individual fancies, have 
 themselves to blame for possessing a character so remote 
 from that of myself, the author. 
 
 * live, t have. J admit. |1 relish. 
 
 Respect your own honor. 
 
 Then it will move you to. 
 Revere that of others. 
 

 Farest hiU, 
 
 \(^ ENEATH clear sk}' in the mountains, 
 l"J Mountains high and mountains low, 
 There many natural fountains, 
 Feed the lakes whence rivers flow. 
 
 There in the lakes the fishes thrive, 
 And the trout, falls overbound ; 
 
 There the bees in hollow trees hive, 
 While bears and deer gambol round. 
 
 On the mountains and the lakesides, 
 There the whortleberries grow ; 
 
 And the blackcaps* at the rocksides. 
 With the breeze wave to and fro. 
 
 There among trees the pine is found. 
 The oak, the beech and walnut; 
 
 And fems and fungi brighten ground. 
 Between birch, ash and chestnut. 
 
 There fivefingers, trail in the shade, 
 Of linden, spruce and maple ; 
 
 And gayly flower' d is each glade, 
 With daisies and the thistle. 
 
 * black raspberries 
 
There the astor and goldenrod. 
 And in moist spots lilies bloom; 
 
 "While robins hunt worms in the sod, 
 And the orchids raise swamps' gloom. 
 
 There cries the owl and whip-poor-will, 
 And the hop-toad speeds along ; 
 
 Where the willow grows at the rill, 
 And insects chirp all night long. 
 
 There the morning's early calling. 
 Finds pretty wren and blackbird. 
 
 And the mockingbird asinging, 
 "With the red, and yellow-bird. 
 
 There the rabbit unmolested. 
 And the squirrels prance about ; 
 
 "While the dove is snugly nested. 
 When gold sunset shuts day out. 
 
 In the mountaiQs' lovely forests, 
 There the strawberries ripen; 
 
 And neat brown eagles build their nests, 
 High, where clouds never thicken. 
 
 There the woodcock lives in the brake, 
 Near a batch of hickory ; 
 
 While clingiug on trees is the grape, 
 By where grows the blackberry. 
 
There the crows are often cawing, 
 From the elm trees near the mound ; 
 
 And the katydids are squeaking, 
 
 When mushrooms spring from the ground. 
 
 There the snakes glide through the thicket ; 
 
 While at lakeside cries the loon, 
 And is heard the chirp of cricket. 
 
 At the rising of the moon. 
 
 There the shumac with red berries, 
 
 The buttercups and primrose, 
 The mountain-laurel and cherries, 
 
 Thrive not far from the wild-rcse. 
 
 At the ponds the frogs are croaxing, 
 Croaxing to their mates a tale ; 
 
 And the violets are gi-owing. 
 
 In damp soil where slides the snail. 
 
 Ladybirds* live in the open, 
 Where the hazels form a hedge ; 
 
 And arrowheadsf grow in the fen. 
 Where the quail drinks among sedge. 
 
 Over tree-stumps and fallen log, 
 
 Lightly skips the butterfly ; 
 While at the elders near the bog, 
 
 Gladl}' flits the dragonfly. 
 
 * a species of beetle t plants 
 
10 
 
 The woods' obscurity at night, 
 
 Is relieved by light-beetles, 
 Or by the stars and planets bright, 
 
 And earth-shine,* while dew settles. 
 
 In the opens dandelions, 
 Thrive with carrot, wild yet neat ; 
 
 While at woods' edge rhododendrons, 
 Scent the air with flowers sweet. 
 
 Where the black-eyed-Susans flourish. 
 With the catnip and milkweeds, 
 
 Or the trefoils the bees nourish, 
 
 There the wind rings bluebells' seeds. 
 
 The anemones and wintergreen. 
 
 The tulip-tree and aspen, 
 Live in woods, where with moss is seen, 
 
 Indian-pipes f and lichen. 
 
 On penn3-royal cover'd ledge, 
 
 Grows sassafras and cedar; 
 And muski'ats house at the streams edge. 
 
 Where sprouts a mighty poplar. 
 
 Under cornel crawls the turtle, 
 
 Near the butternut, the chipmunk ; 
 
 And rich verdure proves ground fertUe, 
 In the woods where roves the skunk. 
 
 * Decaying substances frequently emit a phosphorescence 
 thus designated, and resulting from minute fungi, t fungi. 
 
11 
 
 There in the marsh trail cranberries, 
 And the rushes have their way, 
 
 While at the rocks grow pokeberries, 
 'Neath the branch where hornets sway. 
 
 From the top of a hollow trunk, 
 A racoon takes lengthly peep; 
 
 While prowls the fox where grows the spunk, 
 And night's darkness is most deep. 
 
 Where the oak stands blast by lightning, 
 
 And all wet from the shower. 
 There is found the everlasting, 
 
 And the snapdragons, flower. 
 
 From clear spring the water trickles, 
 And the mints grow at it's side, 
 
 Nigh the bluff where the brook ripplcB, 
 And puffballs push sward aside. 
 
 At beavers' dam the water thuds ; 
 
 And red dawn of morning fine. 
 Greets the woods full of sc ented buds : 
 
 I would forest life was mine. 
 
12 
 
 From dust to dust. 
 Often many years does take, 
 
 Surely, all must, 
 The terrestrial forsake. 
 
 hen we pass from the whirls of diurnal sti'if es, 
 it is frequently with reluctance. This repug- 
 nance to leave the earth, is obviously stronger 
 in such, as never experienced the wants of the indigent or 
 unhealthy. Happy, undoubtedly is the person, who feels 
 at the sunset* of this existence, a clear conscience. It is 
 the Creator's decree, subject to His almighty power, that 
 dust turn but to dust. The stroke which baffles being, 
 comes to all alike, to everything earthly, and often seems 
 unjust, because it is His will, that we see not the justice. 
 When we behold the dusting f mansions of the past, 
 ponder on the possible })eauty of the structures, and reflect 
 upon the festal joys that once there held sway, we natu- 
 rally picture in our imagination, the life, which our present 
 position in society may withhold from us, and cannot but 
 become possessed v»dth a gloomy impression marked with 
 a strong degree of respect. Our sentiment and fantasy 
 then readily illustrate, a grand reception or ball, a luscious 
 repast, a Xmas dinner, a New- Years day, an Easter, a lawn 
 party, a wedding, etc. We imagine the fair partakers, the 
 
 • close + mouldering 
 
13 
 
 frolicsome beauties, the gentle jokers, the envious lovers, 
 the manly variety, the gracefull couples, the roasted tur- 
 kies, the warming wines, the mutual pleasures of company, 
 indeed the pictures are unlimited and, individually as dif- 
 fering as the refinement of the individuals. 
 
 On contemplation then, the future will bring to us, as 
 melancholy an illustration, as time has to the visitants of 
 the mansions nevermore. Friends, the soul of happiness, 
 will be marked only by the headstones or other memorials 
 on their tombs, if not by their urns, or other receptacles 
 foi' the residue of their incineration, and even these dole- 
 ful mementoes, will be found dispersed, proving that long 
 before, they who are no more, had become separated from 
 worldly companionship, some by nearer ties, others by 
 fortune or itineration. 
 
 And once 'tis past, 
 Ally fond recollections, 
 
 To those who last, 
 Come with pensive reflections. 
 
14 
 
 THE IXniAX SUMMEB. 
 
 When winter's chilly blasts are nigh, 
 And summer's sweetness claims a sigh, 
 
 The forest's trees are bared of leaves, 
 To carpet earth, by autumn breeze. 
 
 it-*^rf JWt'i fc^/"i- 
 ■^ V^" *^**' '^\ - 1 
 
 n the North American Temperate Zone, 
 where the rougher change of the seasons, 
 claims more deciduous than evergreen veg- 
 etation among the sylva, is experienced that 
 late namesake of summer, which was the 
 Indian's own. When the leaves drop, proving the fall, 
 and cover the ground more than the trees, the time of 
 autumn has come, when the Indian Summer has begun. 
 
 Then, when the forests were extensive and the clearings 
 few, the Indian went on his hunting path, well knowing 
 the flesh of the game to be daintiest then. The feigned 
 learning of the Caucasion hunter, caused him to take an 
 earlier pick of the game, during the previous, to him more 
 congenial season, and in derision term the Redskins^ time 
 of hunting, the Indian's Summer; but the Indian while 
 
15 
 
 gnawing tlie better meat, smiled at his paleface brother's 
 conceit. The knotty school of experience, often transforms 
 prejudice into admiration; thus game-laws are now open 
 mostly during the Indian Summer. Then, the air is cool 
 and bracing ; while the woods are hovering in a silvery 
 mist, which at sunset, frequently turns to a golden or red- 
 dish hue, coloring every bush, tree, rock, and water, 'neath 
 a greenish sky. Atimes, the iiery haze charms the viewer 
 after a light snowfall, while the phosphorescent moon- 
 beams tardily follow, reflecting the icy crystal's sparkle, 
 and enhancing the fascination of the scene. 
 
 Tlieu the Indian's Summer 's here, 
 Then on the hunt he went with cheer, 
 
 The while it lasted to make sure, 
 Full winter's larder to procure. 
 
16 
 
 WISDOM. 
 
 An I ponder on tbe lore, 
 
 That is stored in books of yore, 
 I thi-nk me, I am a fool, 
 
 Bat a blunt and useless tool. 
 
 Though with passing of the thought, 
 I reasoB that all I sought. 
 
 Can I store within my mind, 
 May Mneraosj^ne be kind. 
 
 For with study all can know, 
 Wisdom that is slow of flow, 
 
 And win laurels with knowledge, 
 Besides leave a name of edge.* 
 
 * distinction 
 
 SKPARATION. 
 
 Fools - they try to mis togethei-. 
 Oil, that will not join with water ; 
 
 They waste lime in base deception, 
 And tasie not joys of disruption. 
 
 When their acts belie there is peace, 
 Then their tortures will never cease : 
 
 Their balm is to drift asmider. 
 
 Else the spell will take them under. 
 
 Naught can niles of higher sitting, 
 Couiiiiand when they are not fitting, 
 
 Each tci each, and want to be free. 
 When on parting they can agree. 
 
17 
 
 THE SAIL. 
 
 Fate ! O merciless monster ! 
 
 EAR where the saline North Atlantic Ocean 
 waters, whether blown by tempestuous winds 
 into landlubbers' white-caps,* or remain set- 
 tled in a lull, wash the sandy, somewhat rocky 
 eastern shore of Staten Island, forming with the western 
 promontory of Long Island, the strip of water, connecting 
 the inner and outer bay of New York, called the Narrows, 
 about a hillside, lay the village of Stapleton, now consol- 
 idated wath that human-hive,f the ever great American 
 metropolis of New York. J In most small towns and vil- 
 lages, townf oik and villagers are neighbors, or everybody 
 is acquainted with everybody ; || thus the inhabitants of 
 Stapleton, all knew, that Conrad Stevens, and Frances 
 Leighton were very fond of each other, for they were nearly 
 always seen together. That neither had any other sweet- 
 heart, was plain to every busybody, and as they were in 
 each others company so much, neither of themselves would 
 
 ♦crests, combs, wash etc., are names for waves with foamy apexes 
 + overcrowdedness, as in a bee-hive 
 
 t Population doubled to near 3 ^ millions in 1896, by the addition of Kings, 
 Eichmond and parts of Queens and Westchester Counties. 
 II They are wise who learn to know each other. 
 
18 
 
 have had any reason for even a vague suspicion, that they 
 were not true to each other. They were ideal lovers ; indeed 
 they must have delighted Eros. Gossip long had it, that 
 they were engaged; but words often take wings, and then 
 rarely fly well. Frances had attained the age, previous to 
 which it is not meet for woman to bear the joys and pangs 
 of matrimony, or had just passed her twentieth spring. 
 
 As a brunette of the handsomest type, a pretorian would 
 have drawn her comparison with Venus. Her brown eyes 
 sparkled with gentleness, her full broad forehead showed 
 education, as did the full temples, musical inclination, the 
 peak on her eyebrows, rythni, and her broad chin, strength 
 of will. Her mold would have pleased the artistic eyes of 
 Antoine Bayard, whose celebrated painting — The Joyous 
 Band — hardly shows a more pleasing womanly figure. 
 
 Thorwaldsen would not have hesitated to compare her 
 to the Aphrodite of Melos. Frances had womanly habits,* 
 liked her home, and was diurnally busy in the kitchen ; 
 besides, she was modest not only in dress, but also in man- 
 ners, indeed did not even believe in the liberty of dancing; 
 thus it was no Avonder, that she was the more honored and 
 esteemed. Her aged parents were upright and associable, 
 and lived on a small income, the blessing resultant from 
 worthy youthful thrift; and among the flowers in the gar- 
 den surrounding their own neat little cottage, Frances, as 
 Conrad gallantly besides aesthetically reiterated, appeared 
 by far the prettiest. The Leightons, though not rich, had 
 reason to be proud, in being able to occupy their only child 
 at home.f They even intimated to Frances, that if she was 
 
 * Women should spend more time to household affairs than to sportlife. 
 t Parents ought to keep their offspring more at home, by educational amuse- 
 ment and good compmy, as much as circumstances will afford it. 
 
19 
 
 ever to be blessed with a good husband, she would not 
 have to depend entirely on him to slave for her existence. 
 
 Conrad was as venust* as Adonis, and aged twenty-six 
 years. His lovely mother had long departed this world; 
 Avhile his kind father cherished the memory of her who had 
 been dearest to him, more than to remarry. Conrad resided 
 with his parent an honest carpenter, and with an amiable 
 younger sister. At the trade of his father, Conrad averaged 
 the lowest earnings, necessary for marriage or an eagle per 
 week; but he felt that a salary was not a steady dependence, 
 and although he was conscientious and possessed the energy 
 and frugality, conducive to better financial results in time, 
 he happened to be enamored with Frances, and sweethearts 
 are not the only persons, who unwisely detest patience. 
 
 On the last occasion of a tete-a-tete, Frances took special 
 pains to make it evident to Conrad, that their pecuniosity 
 would prove efficient for housekeeping, that she coalddo 
 without a servant and that they could even live with her 
 parents. Conrad was transported at the fidelity of Frances, 
 and felt that he should propose to her, but like all men 
 true in love, he could neither hide nor utter his sentiments. 
 
 ^iJ^ jiAA. fc2fiy*- 
 
 An high afternoon sun, lighting up a fine Italian land- 
 scape, could not present to the view, a scene more pleasing 
 than the New York Narrows backed by green Staten Island 
 hills, as on this occasion, when a zephyr, which threatened 
 to turn stronger, wafted summer verdure's sweet perfume 
 about Conrad and Frances, as they stood, he a trifle taller, 
 side by side in their finery arrayed, on a plankway, viewing 
 a cat-boat as it lay quivering amid the rippling water. 
 
 * beautiful, from Venus theKoman mythologic goddess of beauty and love. 
 
20 
 
 Conrad had built the boat himself and named it Frances, 
 since as he explained, he felt proud of its goodness. 
 
 Frances had frequently enjoyed a sail with Conrad, who 
 had as usually gained her consent, with the approval of her 
 parents to another trip. Shortly they were seen seated in 
 the boat, appearing like brother and sister, and sailing be- 
 fore a breeze which filled the single canvas. Frances was 
 the hrst to break a long silence — " Oh! How lovely the 
 boat speeds along," To which Conrad politely remarked, 
 '•I certainly agree with what you say, Frances, but perhaps 
 you would not coincide to what I would say." "Conrad," 
 said Frances, "did I ever disagree with you?" To this 
 he retorted with an effort,"! wish you would not if I spoke 
 as I felt." Their eyes met each others glance ; and their 
 cheeks nearly rivaled the ruddiness of the setting sun. 
 
 They understood each other, though a long silence fol- 
 lowed before Frances timidly questioned as if in rebuke, 
 'know we each other not long or well enough, to have no 
 secrets." Conrad looked at her intently, but scarcely not- 
 iced, that her features were, like his own, of that innocent 
 hue, which was then visible in the feathery clouds above 
 him, as he almost gasped," then sail the path of life with 
 me." Her face even deepened in color, and a faint "yes" 
 escaped her crimson lips, which quivered with an emotion, 
 that was not becalmed by an endearing osculation. 
 
 Suddenly a squall capsized the boat; and it was night. 
 Poseidon could say her last word was "fate," to which 
 Aeolus heard him articulate " O, merciless monster!" 
 
 It is not well, that we engross ourselves in joy, 
 
 and forget the Almighty, and the lurking evils, 
 
 to which we are exposed. 
 
 4 
 
21 
 
 From the acorns, grow, the oaks, 
 And on the oaks, the acorns. 
 
 jT is indeed a peculiar occurrence, that of an 
 : acorn sliower. Let anyone ti'ani]^ the forests 
 where oaks abound, near the end of that pleasant month 
 of the year, in which the signs of autumn first ap[)ear, and 
 the intermixture of green, yellow, red and brown verdure 
 evidence 'tis September, and the cpiaint event of an acorn- 
 shower, will be interestingly realized. Tik, tak, tak, tik, the 
 acorns strike the earth, then slightly covered with fallen 
 leaves, which not only rustle in wind, but also as birds hop 
 along to seek cocoons, and as squirrels, chipmunks, rab})its, 
 and other animals search for sul)sistence ; while the black- 
 snake twitches its tail among the dry foliage, in a manner 
 creating a sound similar to the rattle of the rattlesnake. 
 Tik, tik, tak, the acorns drop; while the woods are yet 
 mostly green, and resting in that grand repose, which some- 
 times settles on the features of aged persons, long before 
 their end. Amid exhilarating breeze, besides the richly 
 colored leaves of maple, dogwood, hickory, aspen, birch, 
 schumac, etc., fall the oak-seeds, — tak, tik, tak. It is not 
 difficult to recognize, that when the acorn shower, tik, tak, 
 tiks, summer is done, and the forests' rest is soon to come. 
 
 Whence came at first the acoms '? 
 They have had theii- Creator. 
 
22 
 
 ADVICE. 
 
 ouNSEL is a capital thing ; notwithstanding it is 
 much to be feared for the doubt of its wisdom. 
 
 Colloquial difference of opinion is seldom 
 
 weicfhty; and they who are paid for advice, often have more 
 use for their fee, than their clients benefit by a consultation. 
 
 It is youth which needs and ought to seek advice the 
 most ; for to have no knowledge of a matter, is to be fit for 
 imposition. As age instructs youth, the young naturally 
 incline to their elders for counsel; nevertheless they should 
 not forget, that the aged sometimes hold too contumaciously 
 to ideas fixed in years long past, and not in conformity with 
 the present circumstances. Advice is frequently given 
 intentionally, for the purpose of sending the advised in 
 opposite directions, or to gain their confidence for ill intent; 
 since honor succumbs much too often to acquisitiveness. 
 
 To be safe from deceit in this false world, is almost an 
 impossibility; and if there is a person who has not been illy 
 advised at sometime, or who has never been deceived, that 
 person must either live away from the worldly taint as a 
 recluse, or deservedly have angelic protection. Therefor 
 we should be skeptical about any directions, and endeavor 
 to weigh their value with self deductions; or if this, like 
 
23 
 
 many another talent is denied us, we ought test the sincerity 
 of our counselors in other regard. The braggart is so poor 
 an advisor, as the impunctual are unreliable. A spring may 
 amply serve one a long time before it fails, and so it is with 
 advice; and the failing, though sometimes only temporar}^, 
 giyes rise to discredit the reliability thereafter. Verily who 
 gives sound admonition, is thy friend; 3 et vile tongues exist, 
 and without just cause, aye, without even our knowledge, 
 friendship oft does change to enmity before the next sun- 
 rise; and worse still, that very enmity may lie concealed 
 beneath a simulated mantle of friendship. To Icse not, 
 trust not; and to lie not promise not. Wlien you nay you 
 will, do; and when you say you won't, don't; for truthful- 
 ness is elevating, and is one of the most valuable of talents 
 that lead to fame. Parental elucidation is not always trust- 
 worthy; while few persons wish to assume the r( sponsi- 
 bility of recommendation ; and personal introduction is 
 considered the best reference. Experience is the foundation 
 of the best advice; though the young may have moi e experi- 
 ence in a thing, and been more observant than the elderly. 
 Truly the aged, who retain their gift of youthful laight- 
 ness of mind, are the best sages; and if they are not affable, 
 it is of worth, to run the gauntlet of experience, and 
 reap its teachings ; though all learning is costly. 
 
24 
 
 THE FIDDLER'S MUSE. 
 
 What care I, when all about me, 
 Is free from worry, all sunshine, 
 Whether others have loss or gain, 
 Have I much, or have I little. 
 When I dream, I dream things rosy, 
 What I do, I do in gladness. 
 But my childhood days are over. 
 
 What the bow is to the fiddle. 
 Truly that is man to woman, 
 Each a helpmate to the other, 
 Eonely waiting, ever ready. 
 To respond to heartsease music, 
 Eas'ly broken,* each with roughness. 
 With gentleness a lasting joy. 
 
 Nature rules to find a partner. 
 So hope I, to get a true one. 
 One who in makeup reflects me, 
 And in love cannot reject me, 
 One the prototype of goodness, 
 Who can love none other than one. 
 And that one alone for lifetime. 
 
 * spoiled 
 
25 
 
 Such is nature pure and simple, 
 That fond wishes remain the same, 
 If fulfill'd or whether blasted, 
 Though in youth there is a ^varmness, 
 That with time does never return ; 
 When the hopes of warmth are over, 
 'Tis too late to bes-in anew. 
 
 -&' 
 
 Every hope needs nourishment. 
 Like the roots to make plants prosper, 
 Else success becomes chimera!, 
 And all industry is needless, 
 Useless also without wisdom; 
 While without reciprocity, 
 Hope wanes into humility. 
 
 More frequently than is of good, 
 
 Enthusiasm, leads ambition, 
 
 Eeads us to see things that are not, 
 
 To fancy, pictures in the sky. 
 
 Like the love that grows from friendship, 
 
 Hard to bear when nipt asunder ; 
 
 Yet all pleasures have dislikings. 
 
 No paths are alike in smoothness, 
 Some are longer, others shorter. 
 Though some short ones are the roughest. 
 And some long ones are the shortest ; 
 It depends more on the user. 
 Obstacles to surmount freely, 
 Throush such Godsend as is deserv'd. 
 
26 
 
 A Flagration. 
 
 -5<»^ 
 
 he sun had disappeared below the horizon at least 
 an hour, and the night was dark, for it was the time 
 of the new moon in the middle December of 1894 ; when 
 after a winter study of the Palisade Woods, and having 
 visited and bid good-by to, my acquaintance Mr. Johnson, 
 who built himself a house in these woods, I was feeling 
 my way, along an, in the obscurity of night invisible path, 
 leading about two miles eastward towards the Fort Lee 
 Ferry, which I intended to take for New York City. 
 
 There was only another liouse in this forest, about a 
 quarter of a mile distant and off the path, and as I passed 
 it, I noticed, that the interior was lit up, by the gleam of 
 lamplight passing without from an unshuttered window, 
 and evidencing that somebody lived within. As I tardily 
 picked my quiet way onward, in the loneliness that usually 
 incites meditation, f could not l)ut feel, that in this simple 
 rustic abode, whence resounded cheerful voices of children, 
 there was no doubt, at the very moment, more contentment 
 than in many a palatial mansion; and that we can be poor and 
 happy, which is better than being wealthy and unfortunate. 
 I heard the toot of the ferry reverberate throughout 
 the stillness of the woods, when suddenly I saw the swamps 
 and treetrunks before me reflect a ruddiness, which I 
 immediately recognized, had its origin in some combustion ; 
 yet as I looked about me, all was darkness. From the 
 
27 
 
 direction of the house I had shortly passed, wild shrieks 
 of alarm reached my ears, and at almost the same instant, I 
 beheld human figures aimlessly running about, as a pillar of 
 flame issued from the building, and illuminated its vicinity. 
 
 The gleam which penetrated the forest, enabled me to 
 reach the doomed structure, in a few minutes, without 
 much difficulty, by running on a path leading thereto. 
 
 Near the building, my gaze centered for a few moments, 
 on a small lot of household necessities huddled together, 
 of which a sofa was the most conspicuous, and where an 
 elderly, stocky gentleman, the pater-familias, surrounded 
 by several ladies, children and Newfoundlands, formed a 
 picturesque group, representing hoiTor as well as inviting 
 pity. The house was a two story and garret wood con- 
 struction ; and the blaze from the gable roof at the chimney, 
 reddened all that was visible; though the features of the late 
 residents seemed pallid. The distant neighbors and curious, 
 were attracted, by the red columns of flame and smoke 
 rising skyward, and alarming the people for miles about. 
 
 I came to the scene to help save things, and got the late 
 owner to ax off some fences adjoining the building, and 
 extending to a nearby woodshed, while I took some shut- 
 ters from the lower windows of the burning hc.use; but 
 mostly, others were led thither by the fascjuation which 
 a calamity creates, for they stood around, as motionless as 
 the trees, apparently in mute astonishment, yet in reality 
 deeply charmed by the progress of the blaze, w hich, as it 
 brightened the surroundings still more, showed new arrivals 
 at all points. In their ardor to be at the fire, parties ccme 
 ininning, some tripped over tree stumps or fell into ditches, 
 others, too corpulent to run, hurried along hobbling, and 
 yet others, came scratched by briers. The crackling of the 
 
28 
 
 flames was lost for some seconds, by the audibility of the 
 hammering on a massive iron ring nearly a yard in diameter, 
 and suspended by achain,from a horizontal beam supported 
 by two posts ; the sound calling the volunteer firemen, to 
 their station about a mile away, and reminding me of the 
 blacksmith busily pounding on the anvil of his smithy. 
 
 In the meanwhile, several willing hands, wrenched a 
 door, I had directed attention to, from its hinges; while 
 with the aid of a rake, I got some clothing, through the 
 ^vindow of a ground floor bedroom. One fellow, in stature 
 like Hercules, jumped upon the window-sill, to get inside 
 the room and save a cot, but I pulled him down ; still, in 
 spite of others and myself, he, undaunted, would have 
 ventured within, had not a blast of hot air coming from 
 the window, as I closed it, cooled his zeal. In the next 
 instant, flames began to flicker about the interior; and it 
 occurred to me, that although perseverance is required for 
 success, persistence can also lead to detriment. All that 
 could be protected from the fury of the fiery elements, was 
 saved ; though it was indeed little. As I stood at a safe 
 proximity to the former habitation, I beheld the ignescence 
 from the collapsing of the roof, which gave evident delight 
 to most of the now numerous spectators ; but the grandeur 
 only profounded my abhorrence of devastation. The late 
 dwelling was now completely enveloped in the flames, 
 which the wind fanned hither and thither in a frightful 
 manner; and to climax* the awe inspiring destruction, the 
 blackened chimney towering among the fierce flames, fell 
 over crashing, and showering sparks all about. The recent 
 inhabitant, with his ax in his left hand, his right booted 
 leg bent resting on a log, stood near me, watching his loss ; 
 
 * heighten to the uttermost 
 
29 
 
 and to my inquiry as to whether he held insurance against 
 fire, he responded in the affirmative, but added that it was 
 not much ; and then he seemed to realize, that his means 
 would not be adequate to replace his former home ; and 
 with an agitation which shook his whole body, and a moan, 
 he turned away from the appalling sight. Beyond the 
 clearing of the scene, the dai'kness seemed to be intensified; 
 while between the ruddy, nearest tree-trunks, promiscuous, 
 illuminated faces, though hardly indicating any particular 
 nationality, formed an interesting study of emotions. 
 
 Mostly, the features were those of young folks, and some 
 indicated trepidation, some showed glee, others expressed 
 indignation or anxiety, while a few had the nonchallance 
 of the stoic. The clamorous commotion which presently 
 occurred, was due to the arrival of the firemen ; though I 
 failed to see a reason for any uproar, since we oft cannot 
 understand actions foreign to our natures. The firemen, 
 numbering about a dozen, seemed nonplused at the head- 
 way of the fire, but very soon formed a bucket-line, for 
 passing well-water to the woodshed, which they drenched. 
 
 The fire had now spent its force ; and the burning ruins, 
 but little warmed the chilly night ; while with the darken- 
 ing of the scene, there came a chaos of departure, started 
 by the rumbling away of the fire-wagon, with its hand- 
 pumps, pails, pick-hooks, ladders and other appendages, as 
 drawn over the rough road, by the firemen. For a short 
 time, the forest reechoed with the lusty voices of persons 
 homeward-bound, searching for friends and paths, and then 
 all was quiet. The flagration had ended with the dieing 
 to ashes, of the glowing embers ; while a long time will 
 elapse, ere the grass thrives where rests a heap of ashes. 
 
80 
 
 The Peace Afore The Storm. 
 
 Kv'rythmg is quiet ; 
 
 Yet, nigh comes disquiet ; 
 For yonder is a cloud — 
 
 The heralding storm-cloud. 
 
 See, the water's roughing, • 
 As the wind is changing ; 
 
 And dark clouds the daylight, 
 Dim to that of twilight. 
 
 If it was otherwise. 
 
 We could escape devise ; 
 
 But sorrow 'tis too late, 
 The degree is our fate. 
 
 The lightning and thunder, 
 The rain and northwester. 
 
 End in their fiercest form. 
 The calm before the storm. 
 
 THE STORM. 
 
 The waves are rolling fast along. 
 
 And with their white crests moan a song, 
 That with the pattering rain chimes, 
 
 And with whistling northwester rhymes. 
 
 Lightning plays in rapid flashes ; 
 
 Thunders roar above waves splashes ; 
 Dark as clouds the water-spouts form ; 
 
 All flies southeast with wind and storm. 
 
 The fury of the storm is past ; 
 
 Though washings of the Avaves yet last : 
 The sun bursts forth ; the storm is by ; 
 
 A rainbow forms upon the sky. 
 
31 
 
 Educatioti. 
 
 THKOUGH providence we were all born 
 without knowledge ; thus education 
 is an acquirement, and is of the utmost 
 importance to our welfare. Without 
 education, and specially a rational relig- 
 ious learning, we would degenerate; while 
 as civilized beings, we must be educated. 
 Although erudition is the grandest 
 % benefaction of civilization, we can learn 
 but little of what there is to know. We 
 cannot all expect to be gifted to the 
 ^^^^^^^^^ extent of being able to learn as much as 
 the wise, neither may we iind need therefor ; ^\ hile only the 
 highly educated, can form a clear conception of the vast- 
 uess of the field of learnino;. If we would individualh' aim 
 but to gain the rudiments of all knowledge, our lifetime 
 would barely prove adequate. When we contemplate the 
 hight of knowledge, as exenq3lified by the books ^vliich 
 represent the learnings of ages, we muvst become amazed to 
 think of what may be exacted of future generations; since 
 we learn from the past for the future: yet educaticm should 
 never be misused, since the lesser learned who esteem and 
 desire to learn from, the more educated, should be encour- 
 aged and not misled ; and kno\vledge ought only serve 
 ennobling purpose. After gaining a general education, 
 
32 
 
 during our youth in the schools, we strive wisely to follow 
 more particularly and severely, the studies belonging to 
 the vocation we select as a means of livelihood, the success 
 depending mostly on having a thorough knowledge of the 
 business. Colleges,though always useful,are hardly within 
 the average means, and are not essential for knowing 
 something. Education ought not to be shunned because 
 it requires an expenditure of money, for it is a beneficial 
 and mostly remunerative investment. Money generally 
 determines our bringing up; nevertheless, in the worldly, 
 silly bustle to acquire money, education is too frequently 
 neglected. Mostly social and other pleasures, sports, etc., 
 deter the acquisition of wisdom; for they become simply 
 pastime, teaching little or nothing, and are apt to cool the 
 love for study ; while without fondness for a thing, we 
 lose interest therein. The wiseacre scoffs at learning; but 
 the sagacious admire it. Education convinces, that we can 
 and should learn more ; and when we seek diversion from 
 moiling occupations, we ought find educational amusement 
 among the arts and sciences — music, drawing, painting, 
 photografy, printing, sewing, cooking, etc. We do ^vellto 
 learn of other languages, the most useful besides English 
 being German ; however, the study of a thesaurus* is vast. 
 We cannot argue without intelligence ; while our position 
 in life, and association with people, largely influence our 
 erudition ; and we must make efforts for progression. 
 
 * dictionary 
 
33 
 
 Valentio and Desdemona. 
 
 ^^J URINGa part of the fifteenth century, there existed 
 
 ^s y' in northern Italy, the small dukedom, ruled by Duke 
 
 Karl, who had a most V)eautiful, highly cultured and only 
 daughter, by the name of Desdemona. Adjoining the 
 domains of Duke Karl, were the lands belonging to the 
 Duke of Savoy, whose only son Leon, \vas a handsome, 
 well-proportioned, sprightly youth, fond of studies, and 
 much respected for his goodness. No enmity had ever 
 existed between these rival houses, and Duke Savoy 
 would as cheerfully have accepted Desdemona for a 
 daughter-in-law, as Duke Karl would have been delighted 
 to have giveu her to Leon in marriage ; since there was, as 
 is best, little difference in their qualit)'. Duke Savoy did 
 not desire his son to become involved in amours ; and Duke 
 Karl reasoned wisely, that a damsel of twenty summers, 
 ought soon become settled in matrimony; thus it was not 
 strange,that the dukes agreed on the advisability of having 
 their children become better acquainted with each other. 
 
 To this end Leon became a frequent guest of Duke 
 Karl, ^vho spared no eft'orts to have liis daughtei' present 
 during Leon's visits. Leon, then twenty-five years of age, 
 or when it is best for a man to marry, A\as very attentive 
 to Desdemona, which greatly [)leased Duke Karlj who 
 knew liis daughter would not be likely to meet any other 
 suitor her equal in nobility and wealtli, and felt it to be a 
 part of his paternal duty to encourage his daughter to such 
 a favorable connection, as with Leon. Desdemona.however, 
 was in deep love with Valentio, her father's favored gar- 
 dener; notwithstanding, she did not wish to anger hei-fond 
 
o4 
 
 parent, by acting contrary to his aspirations, and reckoned 
 that with coolness on her part, Leon would in time cease 
 his courting her, and leave her free to disclose to her dear 
 parent without angering him, her love for Valentio; but 
 her coolness to Leon, only increased his love for her. 
 
 Desdemona, often considered the advantages of Leon 
 above Valentio, and could not always act indifferently to 
 him ; yet her love invariably attracted her more towards 
 Valentio, whom her loving father cherished more than 
 his other gardeners — Provo and Toni. In form, Provo 
 was tall and slender ; while Toni was short and fat ; still 
 they were boon companions, quite frolicsome, and could 
 not understand, why Valentio took life seriously. At one 
 time, after trying earnestly to make Valentio join them just 
 once in revelry, Provo and Toni heard from his own lips, 
 that he was on his way to see his lady-love. To discover 
 whom that could be, was but natural to Provo and Toni ; 
 thus instead of another night's drollery, they decided to 
 shadow Valentio, and found him seated on a bench with 
 Desdemona. The gesticulations of Provo and Toni, as they 
 were kneeling behind some shrubs watching the cooing, 
 their faces beaming with surprise, could not have been 
 more comical and varied, at such a trivial, but to their vul- 
 gar senses, highly important affair. Now and then, one 
 put his hand to his ear in a vain effort to hear what was 
 said, and negatively shook his head to the other. They 
 did not dare to go any nearer, but imitated the actions of 
 the sweethearts, who soon left the scene, arm in arm, after 
 which Provo and Toni cautiously ventured forward, and 
 heatedly discussed the propriety of informing the duke 
 on the morrow, of what had transpired. 
 
35 
 
 The next morning Duke Karl, as he entered his study, 
 found a letter from Leon, on his table, for his daughter, 
 and with pleasure ordered it left on the table of her study. 
 Provo and Toni had now arrived, and desired an audience 
 with the duke, who thinking they wanted advice, readily 
 granted it. Provo and Toni entered, full of hope, but were 
 in a fix, as to who should tell the news to the duke, who 
 noticed it, and requested Toni to speak. Toni did not wish 
 to assume the full responsibility and said, "Provo has some 
 infoiTQation which deserves a reward," at which the duke 
 could not refrain from laughing outright, and curiously 
 asked to hear more. Provo did not mind to proceed, and 
 flowingly explained, how they found Desdemona in the 
 company of Valentio. After a close questioning, the duke 
 became incredulous, and with a mild rebuke, ordered them 
 to take their orders for the day, as usual, from Valentio. 
 
 They had not been gone long, when Desdemona entered 
 with apparent glee, and informed her father, that Leon 
 had written her, he would call at eleven o'clock. The duke 
 thereupon expressed a ^vish to see the letter ; but \vhen 
 Desdemona offered it, he desired her to read it for him, 
 which she accordingly, but bashfully did as follows. 
 
 My Desdemona Dear — Again I long to see you. One encouraging 
 word from your rosy lips, and I would know happinees again. I will 
 come as near as possible at eleven A. M. In Sincerity, Leon Savoy. 
 
 The duke seemed as gratified at the note, as Desdemona, 
 who wanted to go and await Leon's coming; but her father 
 bid her to stay a moment ; while much to her discomfort, 
 he ordered, that Valentio report to him at once. Valentio, 
 Avhen he arrived, became ill at ease, and to the duke's 
 question ; if he had seen Toni or Provo the previous eve- 
 ning, replied, that he had, but would not join them in 
 
36 
 
 sport. The duke then amazed his hearers by stating : that 
 revenge had no chance for reward ; and by requesting 
 to know from Valentio, if he liad been with his daughter 
 in the garden the night before. Valentio looked in dismay 
 at Desdemona, who came to his relief, by informing her 
 father ; that Valentio showed her the new flowers. The 
 duke a[)p8ared relieved thereat ; however, he doubtingly 
 remarked," the moon does not throw a true light on a sub- 
 ject," and told Valentio, to prepare for the planting of 100 
 blood-orange trees, which he expected would soon arrive. 
 
 Not long after Valentio left, Desdemona went to meet 
 Leon, who then arrived in the study of her father, and 
 after being welcomed, informed the duke, that Desdemona 
 had met him, and promised to come very soon. In the 
 meantime, the duke and Leon had an interesting conver- 
 sation and some wine. The duke became impatient, at the 
 length his daughter stayed away, but neatly excused her 
 tardiness. Desdemona, then came and announced, that to 
 Leon's lioaor she had prepared a i-epast all by herself, and 
 at her bidding, they all proceeded to the dining-room. 
 
 'Twas midday, when Provo and Toni were resting on a 
 bowlder in the forest, discussing their interview with the 
 duke. Provo yet hoped for a reward ; but Toni considered 
 their prestige lessened. Valentio then met them, and after 
 giving directions for the afternoon's work, went his way. 
 Leon soon came along,and Provo embraced the opportunity, 
 to offer him some valuable intelligence for a reward; but 
 Leon was unconcerned,until Toni stated that it related to 
 Desdemona.when the ensuing bartering, and the disclosing 
 of Desdemona loving Valentio, was ludicrous, excepting to 
 Leon, who promised to test their veracity, and left. Provo 
 and Toni lamenting their ill-luck, left in another direction. 
 
37 
 
 In the evening, Desdeinona was in lier study, when at 
 a window, there appeared a ladder, upon which Valentio 
 climbed into the room, much to his and Desdemona's 
 delight. Not many minutes had passed, when Leon found 
 access to the room, as had Valentio, and in a rage, demanded 
 who it was, that dared to cross him in love. Desdemona 
 was too frightened to offer an explanation, and only wrung 
 her hands in despair. Leon, as he recognized Valentio, saw 
 hanging on the \vall, crossed as an ornament, two swords, 
 which he instantly brought into requisition for a duel, to 
 the horror of Desdemona. The clashings of the steel blades 
 showed, that Leon was too excited to fence well, and it was 
 fortunate that his sword broke, since Valentio refused the 
 advantage. At this moment Duke Karl entered, much to 
 the relief of his daughter, who pleaded forgiveness for her 
 love to Valentio. Her father looked puzzled ; however the 
 general explanation which followed terminated happily,for 
 Leon admited his error, and gratefully pledged his friend- 
 ship to Valentio, who became betrothed to Desdemona. 
 
 Not many days thereafter, Desdemona and Valentio 
 celebrated their mai-riage, in Duke Karl's garden. It began 
 with a charming sunset, and was a gorgeous affair, includ- 
 ing diverse curious dances, some about a fountain in various 
 colors. The pretty orange-blossoms predominating, sweetly 
 scented the air; and the full moon had risen, before the 
 celebration ended. Dukes Karl and Savoy had cheerfully 
 chatted together most of the time ; while Leon enjoyed 
 the company of Valentio's fair sister Olivia, whom he later 
 wedded. The funny Provo and Toni were also present,and 
 at last received their reward,in mirthful humiliation. Thus 
 nobleness foils knavery, and brings great happiness. 
 
 ^ 
 
38 
 
 VALENTIO AND DESDEMONA.* 
 
 ( Dramatization. ) 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Valentio — Chief gardener of Duke Karl. 
 Desdemona — Daughter of Duke Karl. 
 Duke Karl — Father of Desdemona. 
 Leon — Son of Diike Savoy. 
 Provo and Toni — Gardeners of Duke Karl. 
 Duke Savoy — Leon's father. 
 Olivia — Sister of Valentio and Desdemona's maid. 
 Attendants, dancers, etc. 
 
 Synopsis of Scenery. 
 ACT I 
 Scene I - A forest-path. Evening. 
 Scene II - A part of Duke Karl's garden. 
 
 ACT II 
 Scene I - Duke Karl's Study. 
 Scene II - A forest-path. Midday, 
 
 ACT III 
 Scene I - Desdemona's study. 
 Scene II - Duke Karl's Garden. 
 
 -SOS- 
 
 ACT I — SCENE I - A forest-path at sunset. 
 
 Enter right, Dukes Karl and Savoy. 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 
 "Here we can rest a^am as usual." 
 Sits on a stone. 
 
 Duke Savoy, ( Sits on another stone.) 
 
 "It gives us relief, to take needful rest." 
 
 For rights of performance, write to the author. 
 
39 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "At our age, none wait long for lasting sleep ; 
 And we are here since we held together ; 
 For dukedoms are oft w orth naught the next day : 
 That our children are better acquainted, 
 Must long keep our little estates intact." 
 
 Duke Savoy, 
 "You think then, that Leon loves your daughter?" 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "I noticed he is attentive to her; 
 And friendship readily turns into love." 
 
 Duke Savoy, 
 " Then friendship is the best meter of love, 
 But allows a variety for choice." 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 '"Tis always wise, to hold to friends of old, 
 Friends,who with the test of time,have proved worth ; 
 And when pressed, as in political strifes, 
 There are few opportunities present. 
 That would allow us new acquaintances; 
 While our children are each other's equals, 
 And thus would make the most suitable match." 
 
 Duke Savoy, 
 " Your wife was not as wealthy as yourself." 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "We became our equals in marriage; 
 And I wish all to know such happiness : 
 I noticed, Leon oft ^vrites my daughter. 
 No doubt, tender messages from Cupid." 
 
 Duke Savoy, ( arising ) 
 "That is well; but love often surprises." 
 
40 
 
 Duke Karl, (arising) 
 " Youth is warm ; but age cools the blood and love." 
 Exit left, Dukes Karl and Savoy. Enter right Provo. 
 
 Provo, 
 **The hard seats are better fit for the young." 
 Exit right, Provo. Enter right, Provo and Toni. 
 Toni, ( sitting on a rock. ) 
 "This is a beautiful night to be out." 
 Provo, ( walking up and down. ) 
 "Savoy's maids will look pretty in moonlight." 
 
 Toni, ( changing his seat to another rock. ) 
 " Moon or not, to me they are always nice." 
 
 Provo, 
 "I see Valentio's coming this way." 
 
 Toni, 
 "We must try to make him join us to-night." 
 Enter right Valentio. 
 Valentio, 
 " Good ev'ning ! Does the full moon bring you out ?" 
 
 Toni, 
 "We sometimes get quite so full as the moon." 
 
 Provo, 
 "No, Toni ! I never get your fulness." 
 
 Toni, 
 "Oh, you get your own! My fulness is mine." 
 
 Valentio, 
 "Such a fine ev'ning makes us feel pleasant; 
 And brings me out again for enjoyment." 
 
 Provo, ( sitting on a rock. ) 
 "Tis time you would join us in a night's sport." 
 
41 
 
 Toni, 
 "The girls would make a new man out of you. 
 Come with us. Life is empty without joy." 
 
 Valentio, 
 '' It may be nice, to take life so lightly, 
 To lose modesty and find merriment, 
 Or defile conscience with evil habits, 
 To harden the feelings against goodness, 
 And debase our senses and healthy blood; 
 But to me, life is much more serious: 
 I know, that the love of but one woman, 
 Is to me the sweeter for purity. 
 I have found her for whom I have kept pure ; 
 And this night I will meet my lady-love. 
 Enjoy yourselves, and excuse me. Good night." 
 
 Exit left Valentio. 
 
 Provo, 
 "The same as ever, and mind he's in love.'' 
 
 Toni, ( getting up. ) 
 " Indeed Provo ! Think you he's in earnest ? " 
 
 Provo, ( arising ) 
 " ' Tis no joke to be in love. We must see. 
 Who has struck his fancy. Let's follow him." 
 Exit left, Provo and Toni. 
 
 ACT I SCENE II A part of Duke Karl's garden in full moon. 
 Enter right Valentio. 
 
 Valentio, 
 " Desdemona seems to me somewhat late. 
 Ofcourse, she will arrive in a minute." 
 
 Looks left whence he expects her to come. 
 
42 
 
 Valentio, ( coming forward. ) 
 " No! She appears not yet. Oft I wonder, 
 Whether Leon's frequent visits of late, 
 Are not connected with Desderaona. 
 Oh! That we could speak, as we have the mind, 
 And thus be free from love's uncertainty. 
 
 ( Enter left DeBdemona, who listens. ) 
 When born we cause parents anxiety. 
 And begin the battle for existence. 
 We pass ills only to meet some others. 
 That embitter the intervals of joy. 
 Glory and riches, often pass away, 
 For we cannot master our destiny; 
 Thus sometimes our ambitions are thwarted." 
 
 Desdemona, 
 " Oh! Do not talk so melancholy strain, 
 Don't women suffer more for joy than men ? 
 And yet I think, that joy does sweeten ills. 
 How can you be unhappy and love me?" 
 
 Valentio, 
 "I adore you, yet know not happiness, 
 Since you will not promise to marry me." 
 
 Desdemona, 
 *' I promise it, but must entreat patience. 
 Await but the time and all will be well." 
 Valentio, takes her hands in his own and gently giving her a kiss, 
 they seat themselves on a bench. 
 
 Valentio, 
 "Truly virtue receives good recompense; 
 And we triumph in not giving up faith." 
 Enter right, Provo and Toni, who creep behind some shrubs, and 
 watch Valentio and Desdemona. 
 
 i 
 
43 
 
 Desdemona, ( arising. ) 
 " Let US go. I like not to tarry here ; 
 And would rather proceed to my study." 
 
 Valentio, ( getting up. ) 
 "I could not give you cause to regret it." 
 Exit left, Valentio and Desdemoca, arm in arm. 
 Provo and Toni, cautiously come forward. 
 Toni, 
 "'Twas Valentio and Desdemona." 
 
 Provo, 
 "Certainly! And just think of such outrage. 
 We must inform the duke of this event." 
 
 Toni, 
 "Alas ! I think it would hurt his feelings." 
 
 Provo, 
 "Fool ! The duke will give us reward therefor." 
 
 Toni, 
 "Reward? Did you say reward ? Then be it." 
 
 Provo, 
 "Why yes ! We will tell him in the morning." 
 
 Toni, 
 "And be more merry with the girls to-night." 
 
 Exit right, Provo and Toni. 
 
 ACT II — SCENE I - The study-room of Duke Karl. 
 Duke Karl enters, sits at his table, and examines some letters. 
 Duke Karl, 
 "This note from Leon for Desdemona, 
 I think, must be about the sixth this month. 
 Last month he sent her only three letters ; 
 
44 
 
 Which shows, that Leon has doubled his love." 
 Rings a bell, for an attendant who enters. 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "Put this note on Desdemonas table." 
 Exit attendant. 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "Leon is very regardful to her ; 
 And yet Duke Savoy is (|uite right in that, 
 We should not think our wislies are fulfilled, 
 Until we know it for a certainty." 
 . Enter a servant who announces, ProA'o and Toni. 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "Show them in; perhaps they seek some advice." 
 Enter Provo and Toni, who appear somewhat shy. 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "Well Toni! Out with it, speak unreserved." 
 
 Toni, 
 "Provo has some news wliich deserves reward." 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "Ha! Ha! Be free Provo; let me hear it." 
 
 Provo, 
 '"Twas in the moonlight last night that we found, 
 Both Desdemona and Valentio, 
 Seated in company in the garden." 
 
 Toni, 
 "Yes Sir! For we knew them in the moonlight." 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "You recognized them ; but did they see you? " 
 
 Provo, 
 "Oh no sir! We did not venture so near." 
 
45 
 Duke Karl, 
 " Then you have only seen them from the back ; 
 You cannot make hatred where there is love. 
 Go, and mind orders from Valentio." 
 
 Exit Provo and Toni. Enter Desdemona. 
 
 Desdemona, 
 "Leon wrote he would call at eleven." 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "That will be soon. Let me see the missive." 
 Desdemona ofiers the note. 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "It is neatly written. Read it for me," 
 
 Desdemona, ( reads ) 
 My Desdemona Dear — Again I long to see you. One encouraging 
 word from your rosy lips, and I would know happiness again. I will 
 come as near as possible at eleven A. M. In Sincerity, Leon Savoy. 
 
 Desdemona, 
 "I will go and await him at the gate," 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "Stay a moment : it will interest you." 
 
 Rings bell for a servant who enters. 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 " Valentio is to report at once." 
 
 Exit servant. Enter Valentio. 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 " Did you see Provo and Toni last night ? " 
 
 Valentio, 
 "Yes sir. I refused to join them in sport." 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "Surely revenge has no chance for reward : 
 But was you with Desdemona last night ? " 
 
46 
 
 Desdemona, 
 " Valentio showed me the new flowers." 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "The moon throws not true light on a subject. 
 I expect one hundred blood-orange trees. 
 Go, prepare that they grace the main entrance." 
 Exit Valentio. 
 Desdemona, 
 "Leon must be coming. I will meet him." 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 " Very well. Go show him the new flowers." 
 Exit Desdemona. 
 Duke Karl, ( musing ) 
 "The capriciousness of woman is great. 
 Now I know that she loves Valentio ; 
 But still Leon's coming seems to please her." 
 An attendant announces Leon who enters. 
 Duke Karl, ( shaking Leon's hand ) 
 "Good hail Leon. Did you meet my daughter?" 
 
 Leon, ( taking a seat ) 
 "Aye duke, and she promised soon to be here." 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "She awaited your coming with delight, 
 No doubt, she now puts on her finery ; 
 Thus women like to please the men they love." 
 
 Leon, 
 "She pleases me in many other ways; 
 Yet she mostly seems quite cool in manners." 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "Tis only due to maiden modesty; 
 And woman is more precious when modest." 
 
47 
 ( Duke Karl, pouring out some wine ) 
 
 "The evil of wine, lies in its misuse ; 
 But a little does one good. Health Leon." 
 
 Leon, ( taking a goblet ) 
 " Health duke, and also to Desdemona." 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "Aye ! She seems to stay away somewhat long : 
 But women are not always punctual." 
 
 Desdemona, ( enteiing ) 
 "I have just prepared a little repast, 
 To honor Leon. Come let's enjoy it." 
 
 Duke Karl, ( getting up ) 
 "Come Leon. Lunch from whom we love, tastes best." 
 All Exit. 
 
 ACT II SCENE II A forest path at midday. 
 Enter left, Provo and Toni. 
 Toni, ( seating himself on a tree-stump ) 
 "No, no, Provo ! There's no reward getting." 
 
 Provo, ( sitticig on a log ) 
 " ' Tis silly to give up hope and courage." 
 
 Toni, 
 "Yes ! But no doubt we have lost some favor." 
 
 Provo, 
 "Brace up Toni, here comes Valentio." 
 
 Toni, 
 "Azooks! He will give us reward therefor." 
 
 Valentio, ( entering right ) 
 "There are some holes to dio^ this afternoon. 
 For one hundred trees at the main entrance. 
 Be not disheartened, as I will aid you." 
 Exit left Valentio. 
 
48 
 
 Toni, 
 "Alack Provo! 'Tis reward for goodness." 
 
 Provo, 
 "You irritating fool, here comes Leon. 
 Know" that he will reward us for the news." 
 
 Toni, 
 *'So! O yes! Of course he will reward us." 
 
 Leon, ( entering right ) 
 "Hail thee gardeners! Know you any news? " 
 
 Provo, 
 " Of great import deserving of reward." 
 
 Leon, 
 " Oh, in that case you may withhold the news." 
 
 Toni, 
 " But its relating to Desdemona." 
 
 Leon, 
 "To Desdemona? Speak, my purse rewards." 
 
 Toni, 
 "We wish no money, but some of your wine." 
 
 Provo, 
 " The vintage from the vines back on the hill." 
 
 Leon, 
 "Ha! There is very little of it left." 
 
 Toni, 
 " That little will make us tell you the news," 
 
 Leon, 
 "Very well, if its enough, it is yours." 
 
 Provo, 
 "Valentio and fair Desdemona, 
 We saw seated together like sweethearts." 
 
49 
 
 Leon, 
 " It seems you do not like Valentio ; 
 But when I see it, I will believe it." 
 Leon exit left. Provo and Toni arise to leave. 
 
 Toni, 
 "This reward-getting is a poor business." 
 
 Provo, 
 " Be not discouraged, for my heart yet beats." 
 Both exit right. 
 
 ACT III — SCENE I - Study-room of Desdemona. 
 
 Desdemona, 
 " I feel very tired Olivia : 
 You may go and prepare for retirement." 
 
 Exit Olivia. 
 Desdemona, ( putting out a few candles ) 
 " This is a world of great perplexity ; 
 Since we know not what the next moment brings. 
 If father knew, I loved Valentio, 
 Would he, or would he not, give his consent, 
 For us to marry ? It would anger him. 
 
 ( ladder-top appears at window ) 
 No, I have not the courage to tell him." 
 
 Valentio, ( entering from the ladder ) 
 "My Desdemona dear, 1 love you so." 
 ( they embrace and sit down ) 
 
 Valentio, 
 " It may be best, if I ask your father, 
 To give his consent for us to marry." 
 
 Desdemona, 
 '•Do wait, later it may not anger him." 
 
50 
 
 Leon, ( entering from the window ) 
 " Ho! Who is it, that dares to cross my love ? 
 Valentio! You love Desdemona ? 
 
 ( takes swords from the wall ) 
 Take clioice. These ornaments shall serve our use." 
 
 Valentio, { complying ) 
 "Honor, not will, forces me to accept." 
 
 ( Thej' fence until Leon's sword breaks. ) 
 Dake Karl, ( appearing at the door ) 
 "This seems a duel for Desdemona." 
 
 Desdemona, ( kneeling before her parent ) 
 "Forgive me, since I love Valentio, 
 And I have pledged myself to marry him." 
 
 Leon, 
 "And I pledge Valentio my friendship. 
 He clearly won, and proved of noble stock ; 
 For when he had the best of advantage, 
 He cast it aside. Congratulate him." 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "Thus you seem to ask of my approval, 
 And my heart must bend. Congratulations." 
 ( The heads of Provo and Toni appear at the window. ) 
 
 ACT III SCENE II Duke Karl's Garden near the Fountain. 
 Table with fruits and wme and seats and 2 attendants to the left. Fountain in 
 the background. Illuminations with colored lights. 2 Guards and 12 Dancers. 
 
 Enter, arm in arm, talking, — 
 
 Valentio and Desdemona, Dukes Karl and Savoy, Leon and Olivia, 
 
 and Provo and Toni, seating themselves at the table. 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 " A father, on the day his daughter weds, 
 May be excused for a little spending ; 
 Thus my welcome guests this celebration." 
 
51 
 
 Duke Savo}', 
 " It gives me supreme pleasure to be here, 
 May the young couple live happy and true." 
 ( All drink to the toast. ) 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "Dancers will now amuse us for awhile." 
 
 ( Ballet. ) 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "Provo and Toni, I will reward you ; 
 I meant to discharge you, but will keep you." 
 
 Provo, 
 "Thank you, I will remember the kindness." 
 
 Toni, 
 "Many thanks duke, 'tis reward for goodness." 
 
 Leon, 
 " Provo and Toni, I must inform you : 
 The mne you bargained for is yours but sour." 
 
 Duke Karl, 
 "More dancing, and the entertainment ends." 
 
 ( Ballet. ) 
 Chonis, 
 ''O SO jolly, jolly the time went by; 
 And the time which comes, may it happy be. 
 As the time which goes by, without a sigh." 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 — =-^<K5^i^^>0^-^^ — 
 
 Note — The space allowing elucidation, I cannot forbeir a few remarks. This 
 play IS written in the meter of ten syllables to the line. The Italian costumes 
 of the fifteenth century are always interesting ; while the few characters repre- 
 sented require thespians of merit ; and the scenery leaves naught to be desired 
 for elaborate staging. Of the ballet, my taste would be, to have half clothed 
 light, the rest dark. It is my firm belief, that virtue is rewarded, even if only 
 in the prevention of evils ; which is the moral of Valentio and Desdemona. 
 
The Eagle. 
 
 O the eagle, lovely eagle, 
 
 How it moves high ui^ in the air. 
 
 See'st yon tiny speck in the sky ? 
 ' Tie an eagle, golden eagle. 
 
 There the eagle, beaut'ous eagle, 
 Loftily as the clouds themselves, 
 
 With graceful movements in fine curves, 
 Flies the eagle, pretty eagle. 
 
 Comes the eagle, noble eagle, 
 
 Dropping from above to lone jDine ; 
 
 Where among its highest branches, 
 Perch'd the eagle, tired eagle. 
 
 There the eagle, resting eagle. 
 Causes uproar among tovmfolks ; 
 
 Who too quickly motives mistake, 
 See an eagle, preyful eagle. 
 
 But the eagle, wise good eagle, 
 
 Needing rest cares naught for clamor ; 
 
 And at silly townfolks' actions, 
 Looks the eagle, roosting eagle. 
 
 Calm the eagle, stoic eagle, 
 
 Sits amid the high treetop green ; 
 
 Not when the men with their guns come, 
 Moves the eagle, lonely eagle. 
 
 A.nd the eagle, unmov'd eagle, 
 Braves with dignity defiance ; 
 
 Then with a wild and mocking scream. 
 Soars the eagle : farewel eagle. 
 
53 
 
 )i} il|e §l)^Se^ of "ffiglii. 
 
 HE da}' in October, li;ul bt-eii clear and 
 pleasant, when near its cl<^se, I stood not far 
 from where the ^vaters of New York Harbor 
 splasli the most soiitlierly ptii't of Mnnliattan 
 Island, known us the Batter) .'•" Eefoi'e me 
 lay one of the finest liarbors in the world : a harbor that 
 is the more dear to many travelers, for eiidinu" a hazardous 
 ocean journey. To my rit!:ht lay Jersey City, behind 
 which the golden sun hung low in the western sky : and 
 southerly, in the distance, I beheld the hills of Staten 
 Island ; while in the east, buildings of Brooklyn, cast their 
 curious shapes against the gray mist. In front of me lay 
 Governors Island, used for a military station ; and towards 
 the west, the Statue of Liberty f on Bedloes Island, reminded 
 me, that there are also repul)lics in Europe ; while nearby 
 on Ellis Island, I could discern the immigrant l)uildings. 
 
 Boom ! A shot from a cannon near Castle William on 
 Governors Island, indicated a salute to sunset. J The twi- 
 light following was not of long duration ; and various 
 colored lights on buildings, quays and boats, glimmered 
 throu2:h the shades of nio^ht. The light of the crescent 
 moon reflected in a dazzling manner, from the ruffles of 
 the water, when I turned about for a walk in the streets 
 of " Old Knikerboker,"in the shades of night. From the 
 
 * From the historical fact, that the Dutch of New Amsterdam had at this 
 place planted and manned a battery against a British Fleet, before the Duke of 
 York gained control, and changed the nime to New York, in 1(;G4. 
 
 +■ A present from the French, made by Bartholdi, unveiled 188G. J This is an 
 old custom, due to the realiz ition, that for some it may be the last sunset. 
 
54 
 
 park, called Battery, the site of a fort during the Dutch 
 and English reigns, I emerged upon Bowling Green, where 
 the first citizens played nine-pins,* and where stood the 
 leaden statue of King George III, which was utilized for 
 bullets, by the patriots of the American Revolution. Here 
 begins Broadway.on which I had gone only a short distance 
 when I came to " Ye Church of ye Olden Tyme," known 
 as Trinity Church. and facing Wall Street.the great financial 
 center of the new world. The investor, who has lost his 
 money, can find a solace, at the sight of " Old Trinity" and 
 as he sees the advancing hands on the clock in the tower, 
 he can I'ealize that the past is dead ; and that if he cannot 
 forget, he is taught by Christianity to forgive. So here I 
 stood where in the daytime all is hustle and bustle after 
 money ; while in the shades of night, all is quiet excepting 
 oti Sylvester night, when people come to hear the chimes 
 from the bells of the Ciiurch of Trinity, ring in the new 
 y^ear. As I passed Wall St , which has its name from being 
 the position of a stone wall that protected the first settlers 
 from the encroa-chment of the Indians, I reasoned that it 
 is well, that we protect ourselves from physical dangers; 
 but that we should also secure ourselves from moral ills. 
 
 I proceeded up Broadway, which was once the prome- 
 nade of the early citizens, wliose villas lined its route, but 
 which long since, has become a business thoroughfare, 
 crowded with people in the day-time, but almost deserted 
 in the shades of night. Soon I came to another old church, 
 that of St. Paul ; and then I recollected the different pic- 
 ture hereabouts, at the time of my boyhood. The hundreds 
 of telegraph wires, suspended from numerous lofty poles, 
 
 * The game of skittles, now mostly played with ten pins, and called ten-pins. 
 
are now all placed in iindergi'onnd conthucts ; instead of 
 omnibuses there are oars ; the old gas lights in the streets 
 are replaced by electric ones; and mostly tall buildings, 
 familiarly styled " skysci-apers," and mostly of beautiful 
 architectural design, have tahen the places of the smaller 
 old fashioned, nevertheless more roomy structures. 
 
 Such a decided change, in twenty years, would have 
 made me stare in amazement, had I not seen the gradual 
 development. In the shades of night, I came to the statue 
 of the typical Franklin, at Pi'inting House Square, where 
 in the presses of the many newspaper buildings about, lay 
 many a germ of education ; and where in the streets news- 
 boys vied wildly, in the competition of a rather too early 
 livelihood at news-papei'-selling : howevei- I did not long- 
 stay at this more lively neighborhood, and soon was stroll- 
 ing along old Chatam St., now called Park Eow, and on 
 the wide historic Bowery, in the shades of night. 
 
 In the habits of its frequenters, these thoroughfares are 
 as much alike as in their stores and jumbles of amusement, 
 being a veritable highway for the" Cheap Johns" and the 
 " Come Ons".* In the day-time, a jostling of a multitude 
 of business people, in the shades of night, mostly crowded 
 with pleasure-seekers, and some at their W(^rst, the Bowery 
 presents an avenue, such as can only l)e met with, in the 
 greater cities of our globe. As I came nearer to Cooper 
 Institute, founded by Peter Cooper the philantropist, for 
 the furtherance of science and art, I discerned on its clock, 
 that it was relevant, for me to say good-night. 
 
 * A cheap-john, is a person who hunts for a bargain and gets one : whereas a 
 tome-on, always looks for bargains, and is imposed upon. 
 
 L.ofC. 
 
Same af mtj Bcioti Friends. 
 
 There are always some tomes, which stand out from the others, 
 majestically, like a piiie in a forest ; and they are striking, for their 
 literary beanty, diversity, wisdom, educational and economical 
 qtialities, besides the entertainment they afford, viz — Cervantes' 
 Don Q'lixote, Works of Shakespeare, Le Sage's Gil Bias, and Quo 
 Vadis by Sienkiewicz, which are a lit foundation for any library. 
 
 Then, the elegant, flowing and expressive Works of Goldsmith and 
 of Cooper, are suitably followed by Longfellow's Poems, Essays of 
 B.icon, and Irving's Works. These are books, which anyone cannot 
 only profitably read, but also study to advantage. For their clearer 
 comprehension, a Webster's Dictionary and the Grammars of Harvey 
 and of Swinton, are indispensable. Further could be recommended, 
 Anderson's General History, ( for brevity, ) the Eclectic History of 
 the United States, by Thalheimer, Ritter's History of Music, and the 
 History of the United States Mint by Evans. Several text-books 
 are also valuable, specially. Wood's Natural History, Greenleaf's 
 School Arithmetic, Elementarx- Lessons in Astronomy by Lockyer, 
 Steele's Chemistry and Natural Philosophy, Botany by Gray, and 
 Harper's large School Geography. For general information, the 
 National Enc yclopedia, ( popular edition ) is the most compact. 
 
 Readers, with their miscellaneous selections, allow a choice among 
 other authors, desirable ones being. Harper's, Harvey's, Holmes'' 
 and Willson's, fifth rea<lers, and Aiulerson's Historical Reader. 
 
 A ^Manual of Law and Business Forms, by Haigh, is well worthy of 
 piTusal ; while the Physiology of Hotze, teaches us the make-up of 
 niiiikind ; wliose bodily ills, the Domestic Physician, by Hering, my 
 godfather, often alleviates. Of biographies, Audubon's Life, is a 
 cliarniiug naratiou, illustrating adventuresome persistence, required 
 i)y the naturalist ; Avhereas the Life of Cleveland, Sage of Princeton, 
 to wliom is dedicated Multitopics, since he has shown the sincerity 
 and deVK)ii;urity of true greatness, is a rising i-evelation of aman. 
 
57 
 
 Mr. Flemer and his Mule. 
 
 R. Flemer was a blacksmith by trade, and a farmer 
 by necessity; ^vllom I knew from my boyhood ; when 
 incidently, I became acquainted with the habits of his 
 mule ; of which I am about to write, and do vouch for, 
 to be the most accurate information, that could now be 
 procured on the subject. Mr. Flemer did not only get a 
 mixture of donkey and hoi'se because it did not meager 
 his purse as much as the price of a horse wouhl have done; 
 but also since he needed an animal which could better 
 take care of itself, than a horse, while he was occupied 
 in laboriously wiping out debts, at the anvil of his smithy. 
 
 Well, Mr. Flemer got just the thing he wanted ; at least 
 he did not consider it meet to admit othei'wise : and it is 
 wise to content ourselves, with what we cannot change. 
 
 It was a sprightly mule, that like any other creature, 
 became rather exhilarated in the pure Orange Mountain 
 air near Warrenville, New Jersey. Mr. Flemer told me 
 the mule proved very saving, and would eat almost any- 
 thing, from shoestrings to a corset. I was some^vhat 
 incredulous ; though when I saw the beast gnaw at a 
 grind-stone, I was willing to believe it. The mule had 
 not been in harness much, I presumed, for Mr. Flemer said, 
 he must have strapped it on too tight the first and last 
 time, since about a fortnight that I had seen him, for it 
 broke allover. At one time, Mr. Flemer rode the nude only 
 a few seconds, before he became enlightened to the style 
 of a back-somerset. Mr. Flemer thought it a joke on the 
 mule, and I acknowledge, that was the most philosophical 
 manner of taking it. At another time, Mr. Flemer hitched 
 the mule to his wao^on with strono-er harness, and started 
 lor the village of Bound Brook, distant nearly three miles. 
 
58 
 
 ' Tis cliildlike to amuse ourselves at the dilemmas! of 
 others ; yet, the neighbors had congregated, to see Mr. 
 Flemer and his mule start off, in full expectation of the 
 gratification of their propensity to fun. At the cate, 
 the mule would go no further; and Mr. Flemer talked to 
 the beast, and patted its neck. One old rustic, I heai'd 
 say: 'twas as useless to argue with a prejudiced voter or a 
 contumacious woman, as with a mule : and I since found, 
 he spoke from keen knowledge. However, the mule, miidi 
 to the amusement of its drivei', and to the chagrin of the 
 disappointed spectators, acted more reasonably than some 
 persons, and away sped Mr. Flemer. The neighbors \vere 
 on hand, to welcome him, when he was expected to come 
 back : and I myself, took a rocky seat, nigh a lightning 
 ])last oak, on a hilltop, and cultivated valuable patience. 
 
 Then I heard the vociferati(ms, of a voice I recognize<l as 
 that of Mr. Flemer, who, as he came along, told me, the 
 mule was allriglit, and worth every bit ahorse : albeit I saw 
 the foolishness of boasting, when at the foot of the hill, the 
 mule went through a zig-zag fence, for a thistle, and ])ack 
 on the road again, ^^dlere it stood (piiet. I had run do-.vn 
 nearby, and thouglit Mr. Flemer appeai'ed anxious ; but I 
 said he could drive on, that I would set up the fence again. 
 
 Mr. Flemer soon exhausted his vocabidary, yet the mule 
 stood still. Next I saw Mr. Flemer alight from the wagon, 
 and cut a switch; but like some people, the mule anticipated 
 evil, and there remained only iSir.Flemerrunningalong that 
 part of the high^vay. Moved ])y pity, I no sooner finished 
 my self-imposed task, than sprinting on the road I soon 
 overtook the breathless Mr. Flemer, who said, he was 
 afraid the mule Avould ran into something, and so it did ; 
 though it was only the wagon-shed. In a fcAV seconds, the 
 mule w^as free, and its antics, kept the neighbors from 
 
59 
 venturing near. Mrs, Flemer remarked, the mule had at 
 least sense enough to get home before her husband ; this 
 however, was no detrimental reflection on Mr. Flemer, as 
 he was truly good-natured, and possessed of an enviable 
 equanimity. As we learn more with time, so Mr. Flemer 
 learned to know more about his mule. Unlike numerous 
 specimens of humanity, the mule appreciated friendship, 
 and thus it was no wonder, that Mr. Flemer and the mule 
 were often out late at night. This did not last long, and 
 the neighbors gossiped that Mrs. Flemer must have lectured 
 the mule ; since Mr. Flemer when bound homeward, had to 
 resort to noise producing devices, to make the mule go ; 
 which was highly distasteful to Mr. Flemer as he could 
 no longer get home without letting people know, that he 
 was coming. Once as I sat on a branch of an apple-tree, 
 enjoying of the tart though delicious fruit around me, I 
 heard a clamor like the beating on a tinned iron dish-pan. 
 That was Mr. Flemer making the mule go. At another 
 time ni}' attention was attracted by a loud rattling, and as 
 everybody else nearby, I knew, that Mr. Flemer was com- 
 ing from the village. One pleasant evening, the stillness 
 was broken by cow-bells, but they sounded from some cows 
 in a meadow. It seemed to me remarkable, that whereas 
 patience is fre(piently shown to some people without avail, 
 tile patient ett'orts of iVbner Flemer, finally made the 
 mule prove entirely satisfactory. 
 
 A BEAR TALE. 
 
 Once upuu a time, there were three bears — two large and old, and 
 one young and small. The elder two, covetous of the nectar of a 
 hive, induced the little bear, to join them in their laid upon the 
 tempting treacle ; but when the bees resented the intrubioD, with their 
 stings, the larger bears saved their own hides, by leaving the younger 
 bear, to battle with the bees. This tends to show that, among people 
 too, the little inexperienced fellow, should be more careful and just. 
 
(>0 
 
 AT THE GATE. 
 
 He stood talking to her at the gate, 
 The old man recall'd he call'd her Kate, 
 
 But that was back many years ago, 
 
 When in green years he could better go. 
 
 Now his limbs are weak, his hair is white, 
 Though memory brought him back the site, 
 
 Where spoke a youth to her at the gate. 
 He fancied yet, he heard him say Kate. 
 
 But the bud of womanhood faded, 
 
 Droop'd, w^as no more, and to him shaded. 
 
 Life he hoped for with her at the gate, 
 
 Where lives the hermit who call'd her Kate. 
 
 A CATASTROPHE. 
 
 (^^' 4^^ railroad-station of a town, was more crowded 
 II tlian usually, on this occasion, because of a holiday. 
 \Jjy' Most of the people, were awaiting relations or 
 friends ; some had baggage or satchels, and as anxiously 
 awaited the train, winch was due in a few minutes, as the 
 rest. Some parties expected to be taken to their various 
 destinations, bent on friendly visits, for it ^vas no business 
 day ; others awaited friends or relations, no doubt the 
 more dearly, for the long interval since a previous visit. 
 
 Many persons who appeared on the station-platform, 
 carried lovely bouquets for their dear ones. A pretty Miss, 
 who hardly could have passed her teens, seemed as un- 
 conscious of her surroundings, as if in love, and held in 
 her hands, a bunch of beautiful flowers, no doubt for her 
 
61 
 
 " brother." Here, an eklerl)' poetical looking gentleman, 
 carried a large number of white La France roses, p.erhaps 
 for a married daughter ; while there, it seemed, a well- 
 matiired lady thought deeply, maybe of a son. Nearly all 
 appeared happy in pleasant anticipation of meeting their 
 beloved ; and pretty as pictures, merry young folks chatted 
 and laughed. The train was due; nevertheless it arrived 
 not ; and the minutes ilevv along. The day had been clear 
 and agreeable, but a dark cloud appeared in the west and 
 the scene changed. Why did the people anxiously crowd 
 about the station-master? He had given notice that the 
 train was wrecked, and could not yield to entreaties for 
 nearer news, for he knew it not. Tlie most people expected 
 their dear ones harmed. Had they deserved it, or had 
 they lost their faith ? Truly calamity tests our belief. 
 
 A ti'ain had come rumbling to the station : and it had 
 brought the surviving, injured and dead. Newsboys had 
 already, extras of the disaster ; and increasing crowds were 
 kept back by extra patrols. The deceased were laid on the 
 platform; and the maimed hurried aAvay in and^ulances, to 
 different hospitals. Pathetic were the scenes of recognition; 
 heartrending, the identihcation of the killed. The elderly 
 gentleman was seen, to kneel in prayer, divide his roses 
 amono; the sufferins-, and in tears of thankfulness, to leave 
 the scene, with his daughter and grandchild. The mel- 
 ancholy damsel, looked the more sweet, in tears of joy, as 
 she went away with her fiance. Of all horrors, kind reader, 
 deserve trust in the Almighty, that thy tears of sorrow, 
 turn to tears of gratefulness and happiness. 
 
62 
 
 S 
 
 A CRY OF NIGHT. 
 
 S I wander'd about the woods at night ; 
 s And near me heard the bat's and night-bird's flight 
 As the wind rustled the dry leaves nearby ; 
 My lone musing was broken by a cry. 
 
 Could it be that in this night of darkness ; 
 
 My ears really heard a sound so heartless : 
 As nearby dry leaves were rustled by wind ; 
 
 Or was it the whim of sensitive mind ? 
 
 I stopp'd to wander, stood still and listen'd ; 
 
 I saw where the will-o-the-wisp glisten'd : 
 Certainly my ears did not deceive me ; 
 
 Yet all was quiet, nor ill could I see. 
 
 I had heard gurgling and gasping for breath ; 
 
 Or I heard nothing in the forest's breadth : 
 Bat God, Master of all, I'm glad 'tis well ; 
 
 You owe me no evil, that I can tell. 
 
 Just then the woods' stillness became ended , 
 With a soul-stirring screaming that blended, 
 
 la a gasping and gargling the most weird ; 
 That would awe the bravest who ever heard. 
 
 It was not a sinner by rope dangling ; 
 
 Nor was it a villain busy strangling; 
 But a bird that makes such a gruesome howl, 
 
 And though very handsome, is nam'd screech-owl. 
 
 ffintl «f fart |iwt, WoXme mt. 
 
 .^^ 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTICE. 
 
 For convenience, Multi topics will be issued in nine jjarts, of which the first 
 is herewith presented. I did it all myself, and will not do it again. The edition 
 consists of a hundred copies. I have a few copies at f 1. — and others, bound 
 to order, at $ 3. — or $ 5. — Their sale would not repay my labors, but aid the 
 publication of the next parts. When complete, I expect a volume consisting 
 of three smaller ones of three parts each, which I provide for separate binding, 
 since some years must elaspe before completion. I am thankful for criticisms, 
 and not adverse to consider offers of other publishers, however please do not 
 all write at once. Future Multitopics will include among others — 
 
 Castles of Germany, Truth, 
 
 The Conflagration,( Chicago 1871 ) 
 
 Sympathy, The Great Spirit, 
 
 The Woodman and the Oak, 
 
 Pride, A Spectre of the Night, 
 
 Julius Cassar, Moderation, 
 
 A Signal of Distress, An Album, 
 
 Finance, The Country Fair, 
 
 The Hunter and tha Bear, Love, 
 
 A Hall of Fame, The Trapper, 
 
 Friendship, Hist ! Learning, 
 
 The Play of. The Four Seasons, 
 
 Music, The Farmer's Daughter, 
 
 An Ogdoastich, Temperance, 
 
 The Spectre-Dog, John Seitz, 
 
 Health, A Prayer, Superstition, 
 
 The Weather, The Life-Saver, 
 
 Revery in the Mountains, Books, 
 
 The Exodus, Two Pictures, 
 
 A Library, Nature, The Brook, 
 
 Respect, A Letter, Marriage, 
 
 A Keepsake Shovel, The Scold, 
 
 Politeness, A Weed, Games, 
 
 Business, Jealoiasy, Farming, 
 
 Glory, Relations, Poetry, Etc. 
 
Jnne-l. ifi>Qi 
 
MAY 9 1901 
 
^jijijiiiliiiiliiilliiliiP 
 
 1> IX llllllil' 
 
 ri ffjii! il ini 
 T I'rniimrti'i 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 015 988 613 A " 0, 
 
 lllliliiiiiiriiiM 
 
 ■'iimiiilliiil.'Jjil!' 
 ' I ' iiiiiniiiij <