Class fS?>coj 
 
 Book Ax%r 
 Oopightlf 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
SONGS OF THE FREE 
 
 A COLLECTION OF ESSAYS, 
 POEMS AND STORIES 
 
 TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE ALSTON, A. M. 
 
 ii 
 Founder Benjamin Benneka Research Society, 
 
 Howard University, Washington, D. C. 
 
 Anchor Publishing Co, 
 
 Metropolis, 111. 
 
 1918 
 
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 ©0. A 5 126 04 
 
 A-v© 1 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 PART I— ESSAYS 
 
 The New Ethiopian. 
 
 The Negro and the War. 
 
 The War's Ultimatum to the Negro. 
 
 E-Y-E-S Right. 
 
 On Emotion and Its Definition. 
 
 PART II— POEMS 
 Life. 
 
 The Shepherd. 
 Forest Meditations. 
 War Dawn. 
 The Song of the Free. 
 
 The Color Bearer. * 
 
 Easter. 
 
 The Transfiguration. 
 The Dying Sinner. 
 An Easter Prayer. 
 Howard University. 
 To Lincoln. 
 To An Old House. 
 To Mother. 
 To Phyllis Wheatly. 
 The Christ. 
 The Voice. 
 In Memoriam. 
 Till Then. 
 The Man. 
 A Freeman's Song. 
 The College Hymn of the Freshmen. 
 To the National Negro Educational Congres 
 The Happenings of Last Night. 
 Let Me Lie Whar De Watah Milyuns Grow. 
 
To Bug- Eye. 
 
 Fo' De Land's Sake Man, Hush! 
 
 The Brothers' Crime. 
 
 What? 
 
 To My Sister. 
 
 Return Sweet Smile. 
 
 Return Sweet Soul. 
 
 Leonah. 
 
 Wenonah. 
 
 Tell Her for Me. 
 
 My Spring. 
 
 Absence. 
 
 Ah Love, I Sigh! 
 
 The Rose Song. 
 
 I Saw I^ast Night the Dawn of Peace. 
 
 PART III— STORIES 
 At Midnight. 
 Rattlesnake Pete. 
 Through Air to Squash Bottoms. 
 Jeanne de L'Air. 
 
 Copyright 1918 
 Anchor Publishing Co. 
 
 NAR 20 1919 
 
I write these poor but earnest lines, 
 With mental struggles hard ; 
 
 That you may see His glorious works, 
 And nestle close to God. 
 
 FOREWORD. 
 
 The desire to express one's thoughts in 
 writing is a great one. The feeling that some 
 one at a distance is for the time being think- 
 ing as you think carries with it a kind of 
 pleasure. Even though the ideas expressed 
 are not new, the fact that they have become* 
 a part of you and are expressed in your own 
 words, makes them yours as it were, and if 
 they are worthy, to have them known to oth- 
 ers is but a natural desire. All of us have 
 ideas and the desire to express them is older 
 than language. 
 
 The great obstacle in the way of putting 
 one's thoughts in writing is the difficulty in 
 making one's purpose clearly understood. The 
 reader is just as much interested in Why 
 these ideas are expressed as What these 
 ideas are. Mere barren statements are not 
 enough; the purpose which they are to serve 
 is of fundamental importance ; and if the pur- 
 pose is clearly set forth at the outset there is 
 
—6— 
 
 little doubt that the reader is likely to go as- 
 tray as to the meaning of the discourse. 
 
 Writing is, at its best, a poor vehicle of ex- 
 pression. Written words can never carry the 
 impress that spoken words can. They release 
 their glow as they trail from the pen, and the 
 full power of their source is lost on the read- 
 er. Nevertheless, writing is, and will always 
 remain the best means by which one's tho- 
 ughts may become useful; for it is a means 
 of furnishing the greatest good to the great- 
 est number. This, then, leads us back to the 
 foundation of thought expression — the pur- 
 pose — a kind of food stored both outside and 
 inside the thought expressed. 
 
 The purpose of a discourse justifies it, and 
 in a way, modifies the criticisms which are 
 directed at it; or at least, restricts them 
 from becoming too general. It becomes very 
 plain therefore, that the purpose must be set 
 forth in a clear, unmistakable manner. It 
 may be stated at the outset, or it may develop 
 as the discourse progresses. 
 
 In either case it is to serve as a pivot upon 
 which all of the discourse rotates, and which 
 opens the way to its best interpretation. 
 
 In this little book which has been called 
 "Songs of the Free," is is the sole purpose to 
 so uphold and portray the best ideals to the 
 younger members of our race that they shall 
 ever strive for a knowledge of their past, an 
 understanding of their present and an indom- 
 itable faith in their future. • 
 
 The Author. 
 
PART I— Essays 
 
 THE NEW ETHIOPIAN. 
 An Historical Sketch. 
 
 Ethiopia was the 'birth place of the Ethiop- 
 ian race. From this country they migrated 
 into upper Egypt and became the ancestors 
 of the great Egyptians, whose civilization has 
 never been excelled. After many years this 
 civilization began to decline, due to the influx 
 of the wild European tribes ; and in time we 
 find this great civilization scattered through- 
 out the Oriental world. But the people who 
 had established it were no longer remember- 
 ed and even their identity was almst blotted 
 out in the fastness of the dark continent. 
 
 Hundreds of years rolled by and still the 
 people slept. It was not until they were 
 brought by other races to the western world 
 did they begin to awaken. It was at this 
 point that New Ethopia began to move and 
 to have its being. 
 
 It was nearly three hundred years ago 
 when our forefathers landed upon this conti- 
 nent — a destitute and savage people; 'bribed 
 and stolen from their native country and con- 
 demned to a life of slavery in these United 
 
— 8— 
 
 States of America. ^ rom the first moment of 
 their landing until 1863 they were the sole 
 popeity of the southern planters, who drove 
 them under lash to the fields wheie they tilled 
 the soil from sun up until sun down without 
 one cent of recompense and without one mite 
 of gratitude. 
 
 In Maryland and Virginia and especially in 
 the far southern colonies it was very difficult 
 to secuie white laboreis, so the planteis had 
 to depend almost entirely upon the Negro 
 slave, and as the plantations increased in 
 number and size the demand for slave labor 
 became more and more urgent — so the num- 
 ber of slaves increased rapidly. Further, the 
 slave labor put the planter in a position to 
 reap a large return from his fields. There 
 were very few expenses attached to the oper- 
 ation of the plantation; the laborers were 
 abun riant and the labor was free. The South 
 ern planter could easily hoard up riches, won 
 by the unrequited toil of his black bondsmen. 
 
 The growth of the thirteen colonies about 
 this time became rapid though substantial. In 
 the South the Negro labor had more than 
 doubled the output of tobacco, rice, indigo 
 and cotton. Also in the North factories were 
 established for the manufacture of cloth, 
 hats and glass. Cities and towns sprang up, 
 and the white man began to feel the spirit of 
 independence, which is characteristic of fron- 
 tier life; but the Negro chained by his own 
 ignorance and bound to a merciless over-lord 
 still toiled in the hot field. 
 
^9— 
 
 It was about this time when the prosperity 
 of the colonies was at its height that King 
 George III of England in a supreme effort 
 to rule Britian and especially her colonies, 
 imposed taxes upon them which their new 
 spirit of freedom could not undergo. Eng- 
 lish troops were stationed in some of the 
 largest cities to enforce the observance of the 
 Kings' laws and to hold the colonies in awe 
 of his power. But in Boston the spirit of re- 
 sentment was so great that it resulted in a 
 quarrel in which some soldiers fired into a 
 body of citizens. These were the first shots 
 of the great Revolution which was to drench 
 the country with blood for six long years. 
 Several of the citizens were killed; among 
 these was a Negro, Chrispus Attucks who 
 was the fist to give his life for a freedom of 
 which he knew nothing. 
 
 Thus the beginning of the great struggle 
 for independence. On July the fourth seven- 
 teen seventy-six the thirteen colonies with 
 shouts of joy and defiance declared themselv- 
 es free and independent from Great Britain; 
 and Lexington and Concord re-echoed the 
 sound. After years of sufferings and hard- 
 ships the Revolutionists under George Wash- 
 ington succeeded in wrenching America from 
 the hands of the English troops and estab- 
 lishing a government, "of the people, by the 
 people and for the people." But what of the 
 Negro during this great struggle for inde- 
 pendence? True, his blood was the first to 
 flow for this great cause ; yet at the close of 
 
—10— 
 
 the war, we find him still in an ignorant 
 state burning away his energy and coinage 
 in the hot fields of the Southland. The yoke 
 of bondage never once loosened from about 
 him. The southern planter knew that he was 
 indispensible, and from that time until I860 
 the Negro played a great part in the economic 
 development of the American Nation. 
 
 Out of these now firmly united colonies a 
 nation rose which was destined to dominate 
 the world. The American people grew lapidly 
 in prosperity and power. Gradually they be- 
 gan to work their way westward, and in 1803 
 Thomas Jefferson by the great Lou siana pu - 
 chase extended the Ameiican possessions al- 
 most to the sea. Independence had now 
 rooted itself in the heart of every Ameiican. 
 They made their own laws and rejoiced and 
 prospered in their new bought freedom. 
 But the laws of God must not be overlooked. 
 Jesus Christ summed up the comma ndments 
 in two fundamental statements : Thou shalt 
 have no other God before Me, and Love thy 
 neighbor as thyself. Did the American peo- 
 ple adhere to these laws? No! One of them 
 they had entirely discarded. Their neighbor 
 was among them an outcast, a menial, a 
 slave ; and yet they had no compassion upon 
 him nor sought to 'better his condition. In 
 the North, however, now and then a faint 
 cry against human slavery was heard. Loud- 
 er and louder grew this cry until the question 
 of slavery ignited all America. 
 
 The South wanted her slaves to be counted 
 
—li- 
 as population so that she would have moie 
 repiesentatives in congiess than the No±tii. 
 Tnis di ought on a gieat political dispute be- 
 tween the North ani the Sou in, ana in the 
 end South Carolina seceded fiom the Union — 
 followed almost immediately by fiiteen otner 
 Southern states. 
 
 There is no forgiving of sin without the 
 shedding of blood. The American nation had 
 sinned both against God and man. In a few 
 weeks the bombardment of Foit Sumpter 
 marked the beginning of the great Civil War 
 and the election of Abraham Lincoln foretold 
 the awakening of a new Ethiopia. 
 
 History fails to paint the awful struggle 
 between the North and the South. Language 
 cannot expiess what anguish knows. The 
 Union was now dissolved in two great fac- 
 tions. There was but one way to save it, and 
 Lincoln was the hist to see the way. In 1863 
 he issued a proclamation giving to all of the 
 slaves their freedom. This was the beginning 
 of our freedom and after the great war the 
 Negro rapidly adapted himself to his new 
 conditions. He grew up side 'by side with his 
 white brother and accomplished in less than 
 fifty years what it had taken the white man 
 over one thousand years to accomplish. He is 
 able to hold his own with any race in any field 
 of endeavor which he has been permitted to 
 enter. He has conquered the inevitable ; that 
 is, he has lived side by side with the white 
 race for three hundred years and has not lost 
 his identity or racial characteristics. 
 
—12— 
 
 This, then, is the true awakening of Ethi- 
 opia. We are now in the morning of a new 
 freedom. The black night of slavery has 
 passed. The tiny stars of the Northland 
 which strove to illume that night have faded 
 from view; while the golden sun of Justice 
 spreads its soothing rays over a land of liber- 
 ty. Nevermore will that sun cease to shine. 
 Although its surface may be made obscure 
 at times by passing comets of race riots, 
 lynchings and segregation in different parts 
 of the country; this sun shall never set but 
 shall ever rise higher and higher until its 
 beams penetrate the hearts of all men and in- 
 augurate the birth of the new Ethiopian. 
 
THE NEGRO AND THE WAR. 
 
 This great war crisis which has fallen over 
 the country like a vast enveloping shroud has 
 given rise to many problems which are high- 
 ly important to the American Negro. A state 
 of war is always accompanied by character- 
 istic conditions ; and it is from these condi- 
 tions that we are enabled to see the outcome 
 of the struggle. The fundamental cause of 
 all wars is, clearly biological — a struggle for 
 existence. The various races, nations and em- 
 pires involved in the present struggle are tiy- 
 ing to assert their right to exist; and in so 
 doing some of them have lost sight of the 
 very basic principles of existence. The great 
 principle of existence is not exemplified in 
 domination, but rather in assimilation. 
 
 Of all the races whose very existence is be- 
 ing weighed in the balance of this great war, 
 the most conspicuous is the Negro. 
 
 For fifty years we have slept in a kind of 
 lethergy of hope — longing for the day when 
 the high and just principles upon which this 
 government is founded, shall be indeed rea- 
 lized; and when the full hand of citizenship 
 
—14— 
 
 will be extended to us on every side. During 
 these yeais we have risen, slowly but suiely, 
 and we are at present able to cops with any 
 circumstance which the present crisis may 
 provoke. We have advanced normally in pop- 
 ulation, rapidly in finance and extraoid nari- 
 ly in education, and have reached a high sta- 
 tus of culture in spite of the many forces 
 which acted to the contrary. It is from these 
 conditions that we are able to catch a gleam 
 of our place at the end of this great struggle. 
 
 The Negro, like all other American citizens 
 has been called upon and is expected to do his 
 'bit' in this present war. He has come fo Y th 
 without a murmur and is willing to sacrifice 
 and if need 'be, to give his "last full me?su r e 
 of devotion" to his country. He has tried to 
 enlist in every branch of the United States 
 Army and Navy. He further prove i his loy- 
 alty in the draft registration. Surely he has 
 answered the call, and surely, like all other 
 races involved, he expects and in fact deserv- 
 es reimbursement for his sacrifice. 
 
 The returns which the Negro believes will 
 follow his participation in this great war can 
 best be put in the language of the National 
 Association for the Advancement of Colored 
 People, which purposes to make ten million 
 Americans physically free from peonage, 
 mentally free from ignorance, politically free 
 from disfranchisement, and socially free 
 from insult. 
 
 These are indeed the principles for which 
 the Negro is willing to sacrifice his life. We 
 
—15— 
 
 are fighting for the equality of man ; that is 
 the great principle which means 'the right of 
 every nation, great or small, to develop in its 
 own way unmolested.' This is real democ- 
 racy, and when fully realized will mean the 
 salvation of all mankind. 
 
 What the War Means. 
 
 This war is not a mere conflict of arms, the 
 decision of which will go to the strongest na- 
 tion; but rather a conflict of the world-old 
 ideas of right and wrong — the decision of 
 which must go to the righteous. This con- 
 flict is not concerned merely with the question 
 as to which of the warring nations is in the 
 right ; but it is greatly concerned as to which 
 of the two great principles of existence shall 
 dominate the world — Might or Right. (In 
 this respect it is not in the least concerned 
 with race, creed or nation). 
 
 This struggle was of course inevitable. 
 The laws of both man and nature have con- 
 tributed to its precipitation ; and it is a settled 
 fact that this war must continue until there 
 is some real adjustment of inter-racial rela- 
 tions. 
 
 We see in this war the same old conflict 
 between the East and the West. Not, how- 
 ever, between the Oriental and Occidental 
 armies as it was in Darius' time ; but between 
 the Eastern and Western ideas. These two 
 ideas have always been in opposition — since 
 they represent two broadly different princi- 
 ples. 
 
 The western idea represents a principle of 
 
—16— 
 
 race superiority or domination, and for more 
 than 4000 years it has held sway over the des- 
 tinies of weaker men. It is the idea under 
 which we live today, and which threw us in- 
 to the present bloody struggle. The eastern 
 idea represents a. principle of race equality or 
 brotherhood; and although overshadowed by 
 the western idea it has been slowly fastening 
 itself into the hearts of all men, and is fully 
 recognized in this war. 
 
THE WAR'S ULTIMATUM TO THE 
 NEGRO. 
 
 This war has issued to the world an ulti- 
 matum; and especially on the Negro races 
 has this ultimatum been served. Were it to 
 be summed up it would be put in this wise: 
 "You must leave forever your ivays of super- 
 stition and ignorance and adapt yourselves 
 to modern culture and civilization" 
 
 This will apply not only to the race here in 
 America, but to the entire race the world 
 over; wnose greater advancement has been 
 retarded because of their inability to cope 
 with the situations before them. No matter 
 how many opportunities present themselves 
 to us, if we are unprepared to take advantage 
 of them they do us no good. The idea often 
 expressed by some of us that "all we need is 
 a chance" does not mean anything. We do 
 not need a mere chance, but the ability to 
 recognize an opportunity when we see it. To 
 do this we must be prepared ; that is, we must 
 be so trained that we can demand from the 
 world this so-called chance. Some may say 
 that no matter how well trained one may be, 
 
—18— 
 
 if he has no chance to show it it will avail 
 him nothing. It is so that "full many a flow- 
 er is bom to blush unseen," but this applies 
 to flowers — immobile otjects; and when ap- 
 plied to man it does not necessarily woik. Mo 
 one who has attained any accomplishment c£.n 
 "blush unseen" for though he may live in a 
 forest, the world will make a path to his 
 doorway. It is not a question of chance, but 
 of preparation. 
 
 What the Ultimatum Means. 
 
 This ultimatum which is seived on us is 
 unmistakeable. We must prepare as we have 
 never done before. This means that we must 
 train our ability; that is, we must confoim to 
 a definite means of education. The only way 
 by which we can hope to compete wkh the 
 other races of the world is to train ou 1 selves 
 diligently in the ways of modern cultir e and 
 civilization in such a manner that we can 
 still hold to those high ideals which are so 
 characteristic of our race. We must search 
 for all that modern civilization can offer and 
 select the best and most durable. 
 
 This war has brought the people of the 
 world closer together than ever before; and 
 when different nations and races mingle to- 
 gether in close contact, prejudices and an- 
 tagonisms are wont to rise which can only 
 be prevented by previous training. The war's 
 ultimatum is a world democracy ; a world civ- 
 ilization and a world religion. 
 
E-Y-E-S RIGHT! 
 
 It has been said that civilization came on 
 the wings of war. This is true, m that con- 
 quest has been the greatest factor in dissemi- 
 nating civilization among the nations of the 
 world. We find through the pages of history 
 that war has 'been the means of permanently 
 planting the civilization of one nation into 
 the heart of another. The civilization of 
 Greece was established thioughout the East 
 by means of the Macedonian wars. The civi- 
 lization of Rome was cariied to all parts of 
 the known world by the Roman conquests. 
 War, then, is a necessary evil into which na- 
 tions are sometimes thrown to eliminate the 
 greater evils. 
 
 The greater evil which confronts the world 
 today is called autocracy; which of itself, 
 means nothing, but in its application means 
 slavery. Slavery not necessarily physical, 
 but rather intellectual and spiritual. To be 
 physically enslaved is bad, but this can be 
 overcome by the bondsmen rising up against 
 their masters. To be intellectually enslaved 
 is worse, for in this condition the bondsman 
 
—20— 
 
 is unable to comprehend his own state and 
 therefore goes about in a happy-go-lucky 
 manner — satisfied with his unprogressrve- 
 ness. To be spiritually enslaved is hell, for 
 tne soul loses its inspiration and ideals and 
 sinks into a state of lethargy out of which it 
 can never rise. 
 
 The lesser evil which is striving to over- 
 throw the greater evil is called democracy, 
 which although not univei sally conceded, had 
 its origin in the Haitian Republic under the 
 great negro — Toussaint L'Ouverture. It has 
 been generally taught for obvious reasons 
 that democracy had its origin in the so-called 
 Grecian republic, but unless words have lost 
 their meaning, the government which exist- 
 ed in early Greece was not in any sense a de- 
 mociacy. Democracy first presupposes the 
 equality of man, and any fool who has studied 
 history with his brains and not with his pre- 
 judices must admit that the Grecian govern- 
 ment was established for the full-blooded 
 Greek and not for the thousands of members 
 of other races who were included in this "re- 
 public." 
 
 If then, the people who made up the great- 
 er part of this "republic" had no part in its 
 government, it was not a democracy, but an 
 autocracy. On the other hand, in the Haitian 
 Republic every race and faction were repre- 
 sented in its government — Blacks, Whites, 
 Mulattoes, French, English and Spanish — all 
 had equal representation in this the greatest 
 democracy the world has yet known. 
 
—21— 
 
 Thus democracy, an idea which is now per- 
 meating the mind of the world had its concep- 
 tion in the heart and brain of a Negro. Not 
 only did he dream of this ideal government, 
 but he put his dreams into practice and gave 
 to the world an inspiration and hope which 
 lies at the root of the present world conflict. 
 Had it not been for the little Republic of 
 Hayti the world might never have known that 
 it could govern itself without a master. 
 
 What, then, does this war mean to the Ne- 
 gro? Does it mean that he must, as before, 
 bear the weight and sorrow which shall 
 come in this mighty struggle without one 
 mite of recompense? No! We are fighting 
 for democracy, the equality of man — a gov- 
 ernment by the consent of the governed — 
 "of the people, by the people and for the peo- 
 ple, which shall not perish from the earth!" 
 And when the war's cloud shall have shifted 
 and the sun of a happier day shall send its 
 glorious beams across the muck of 'beaten au- 
 tocracy, — the Negro shall take his place by 
 the side of the other races of the world and 
 work out unmolested his own salvation. 
 
ON EMOTION AND ITS DEFINITION. 
 
 In order to give a clear and correct defini- 
 tion of any phenomen of life, whether mental 
 or physical, one must first understand the 
 causes which produces that phenomenon, and 
 the affect which that phenomenon produces. 
 It is a widely spread belief among most stu- 
 dents of psychology that the phenomenon 
 generally known as "Emotion" is so variable 
 and complex in its nature that it eludes all at- 
 tempts of explanation and especially of defi- 
 nition. This is due primarily to the amount 
 of mystery with which students of psychol- 
 ogy are wont to shroud all mental phenomena 
 So being satisfied at saying "feeling is feel- 
 ing," rest contented. In this paper, according 
 as space will allow, I shall attempt to give an 
 adequate explanation of emotion purely from 
 a 'biological point of view; in that emotions 
 are simply the manifestations of life. 
 
 If, then, emotions are the manifestations 
 of life, we are in a position to r'o away with 
 some of its mysteries and build up a clear 
 sensible definition. Prof. Ladd, in his "De- 
 scriptive Psychology," (P. 164) in answering 
 
—23— 
 
 the question "In what common characteristic 
 do all the different feelings or emot.ons per- 
 fectly agree?" says: "All feelings, high and 
 low, and even pleasures and pams, are alike 
 in this, that they are forms of feelings and 
 not ideas, thoughts, volitions, etc." wnich is 
 the same as saying that feelings are feelings 
 because they are feelings; or rather, to illus- 
 trate, that a noise is a horse because he is a 
 horse and not a mule or cow. 
 
 Plainly this statement means nothing, and 
 is simply one of the many ways by which 
 some psychologists evade fundamental ques- 
 tions. All emotions are alike in that ;(1) 
 they are primarily caused by physically stim- 
 ulii, (2) their effect upon the organism takes 
 the form of either repulsion or attraction 
 which are fundamentally the same, in that 
 both conform to the preservation of the or- 
 ganism. 
 
 The primary causes of emotion are, as has 
 been stated, physical in their nature. We, 
 in thinking of all the feelings and emotions 
 that have come to us during all of our exist- 
 ence, cannot recall one that was not caused 
 by some physical stimulus. Even where 
 emotions are caused by memory, so called, the 
 primary cause is the physical stimulus, for in 
 the act of memory, the same cortical cells and 
 nerve tracts simply recapitulate their pri- 
 mary experience. In feelings caused by imag 
 ination the conditions are practically the 
 same, the more or less pathological mind com- 
 piles images in various contortions that were 
 
—24— 
 
 once in its objective experience; thereby pro- 
 ducing in consciousness emotions of a great- 
 er or lesser degree. 
 
 We see from the above that all emotions 
 aie alike in so far as their primary cause is 
 concerned, namely — physical stimulii ; 
 whether anger, feai, hatred, love or any of 
 the so-called "different" feelings. ffl 
 
 Now, the result of emotions, as has been 
 stated, takes the form of repulsion or attrac- 
 tion. This no person will doubt; and neither 
 can one assert (Ladd) that feelings are too 
 variable and complex to sum up simply as re- 
 sulting in repulsion or attraction ; for each is 
 a fundamental law of all biological life. All 
 organic movements, all deep seated feelings, 
 all emotions, all sensations respond, in a 
 greater or lesser degree, to or from their 
 stimulant. This repulsive and attractive re- 
 sult can be easily combined to form one fun- 
 damental result — preservation, which is the 
 ultimate aim of all emotions. 
 
 Therefore, all feelings or emotions are 
 alike in that they are caused primarily by 
 physical stimulii and result as chaiacteristic 
 preservation of the organism. 
 
 Prof. Ladd in his Descriptive Psychology 
 (P. 166), tries to distinguish between sensa- 
 tions and emotions in this manner: "My 
 sensations are, indeed, mine, as truly as my 
 feelings are; both are alike subjective. But 
 my sensations are what my feelings are not, 
 and cannot be conceived as being; they also, 
 in the development of perception, become re- 
 
—25— 
 
 fered, as qualities, to the objects known in 
 sense-experience. Things are green, blue 
 sweet, sour, hard, soft, warm, cold, etc; and 
 in lespect to the objective character of some 
 of their qualities, even the most exterior parts 
 of my body are things to me. But when I 
 say my finger aches, as well as when I say 
 that the music makes me sad, the ache and 
 sadness have no "objective" existence; they 
 are indeed, mine par excellence, as contrasted 
 with all qualities of things which occasion 
 them." 
 
 Prof. Ladd has failed in the above state- 
 ment in that he has tried to separate ideas 
 of sense from objects of sense. Ideas of sense 
 as he has shown, are subjective and exist on- 
 ly in the mind or as perceived; objects of 
 sense, (Perkley, — Rand's Classical Philoso- 
 phy) are merely a number of ideas or quali- 
 ties which have been observed to accompany 
 each other and are called by one name. From 
 this we see that green, blue, sweet, sour, hard 
 soft, etc., beings simply objects of sense or 
 ideas also have no "objective" existence. 
 Consequently when Prof. Ladd says, my fin- 
 ger aches, or "the apple is green" , neither the 
 ache nor the green has "objective" existence; 
 both are alike "subjective." 
 
 Since there is no difference between sensa- 
 tions and emotions with regards to their ex- 
 istence, it follows that the only difference be- 
 tween sensations and emotions is in the de- 
 gree of their intensity ; that is, the difference 
 between emotion and sensation is that in e- 
 
—26— 
 
 motion the entire organism responds to the 
 extraordinary physical stimulus, whereas, 
 in sensation the ordinary physical stimulus 
 excites only some specialized sense organ and 
 does not necessarily involve an organic re- 
 action. 
 
 Since emotions are manifestations of life — 
 since all emotions are alike in that they arise 
 from physical stimulii and result in arr act 
 toward preservation of the organism, and 
 since there is no difference (save of degree 
 of intensity) between emotions and sensa- 
 tions ; we are in a position to compile a defi- 
 nition of emotion. 
 
 First — Emotion is that intensified organ "c 
 reaction observed when the organr m becomes 
 conscious, either through immediate associ- 
 ation, memory or imagination, of some im- 
 pending danger or safety. 
 
 The final definition of emotion will be got 
 from a short discussion of the present theor- 
 ies. These are three in number. One theory 
 is, in substance, that the emotion precedes 
 the action. This is true in so far as it spe- 
 cifies the beginning of the emotion, but it is 
 a known fact that emotion may continue to 
 exist during the action or long after the ac- 
 tion has taken place. Plainly this theory does 
 not add anything definite to our knowledge 
 of emotions. Another theory states, that the 
 emotion follows the action, which is in a 
 sense true and depends simply on the inten- 
 sity of the emotion ; 'but this theory does not 
 establish an adequate explanation of emotion 
 
—27— 
 
 but explains only the extent of its existence. 
 Still another theory states that the action is 
 the emotion, which is to my mind absurd, for 
 the action is plainly the result of the emotion, 
 or external manifestation of the emotion. 
 
 Evidently, emotion may precede, accom- 
 pany or follow the action; which brings us 
 in a position to sum up our final definition of 
 emotion; since all emotions are alike in their 
 nature of cause and effect, since there is no 
 difference between sensations and emotions, 
 since the action of the organism preceding, 
 during or following the stimulant is not the 
 emotion, it follows that the emotion can only 
 be the action of the stimulus upon the or- 
 ganism. 
 
 Second: Emotion therefore, is a purely 
 mechanical action of a physical stimulus, the 
 manifestations of which are observed in the 
 organism. 
 
PART II 
 
 POEMS 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 Sad mortal could'st thou but know 
 What truly 'tis meant to live, 
 The wings of thy soul would glow ; 
 And glory to God you would give. 
 
 To live is to be a Christian — 
 To stand up for the right ; 
 
 And ever hold up for Jesus 
 
 With all thy main and might. 
 
THE SHEPHERD. 
 
 Morning, the sunlight spread afar 
 
 And lit the suirounding vale; 
 
 A shepherd climbing a mountain high 
 
 The refreshing air enhaled. 
 
 Across his back was slung a sack, 
 
 In his hand he held a crook; 
 
 The sheep followed him close behind, 
 
 Nor they his path forsook. 
 
 They traveled on until they came 
 
 To a place that was the best; . 
 The Shepherd bade them feed at large, 
 And there they took their rest. 
 Today the good news has spread afar 
 And never more shall cease; 
 A Christ was born in Bethlehem, 
 Who brought everlasting peace. 
 Upon his 'back there was a Cross, 
 In his hand he held a book; 
 The Desciples followed him close behind 
 Nor they his path forsook. 
 They traveled on — and then he gave 
 To those who loved him best, 
 
 A place where they could be with God, 
 And there they took their rest. 
 
—SO- 
 FOREST MEDITATIONS. 
 
 Silence ! From out thy shrouded 
 Depths multitudinous with sound, 
 Where dampened leaves on watery 
 Bark collide, and weeping bushes 
 Droop their weary neads upon tny 
 Bosom; thou breathes a prayer; 
 
 Ye mighty trees in solemn majesty 
 Array, bespeak a thousand mysteiies 
 Yet untold ; and witn thy lofty heads 
 Reared to the skies, breathes forth 
 A tranquil song of hope and love. 
 When sadness like a blackened cloud, 
 Envelopes thy rarest joys — when 
 Discontent and distrust takes 
 Possession over thy soul ; steal away 
 Alone into the fastness of the 
 
 Wild-wood and list to her song — 
 And from out the depths of the 
 Forest will come this prayer : 
 
 Love is not lost 
 
 That abides with thee, 
 
 Songs are not hushed 
 
 That arise from thee; 
 
 Into the forest 
 
 Where nature confides, 
 
 There in the fastness 
 
 God still abides ! 
 
 Sweet is song 
 
 That comes to me, 
 
 Sweet is the hope 
 
 That is to be; 
 
 Lost in the Forest, I can but 'be 
 
 Close to Thee ! 
 
—31— 
 
 WAR DAWN. 
 
 Ten thousand burning sparkling fires 
 
 Alight the world forlorn; 
 And music from a thousand Lyres 
 
 Announce the coming dawn. 
 
 The Demon Hate and Selfish Lust 
 Have drenched the world with bloodj 
 
 And crumbled learning to the dust — 
 Destroyed the young manhood. 
 
 The weak and ignorant races bear 
 The burdens of the strong; 
 
 In their sore hearts they do not dare 
 To rise against this wrong. 
 
 The burning Sun soars on his way 
 
 Upon an arm of gold, 
 And pauses at the bright noon-day 
 
 To see the Great War's toll. 
 
 He sees the younger sons go forth 
 
 In battle garb array — 
 He sees them mangled in the dust 
 By Aryan tyranny. 
 
 God of the Universe today, 
 
 Let not thy mercy stray 
 Far from this world ! 
 
 Hold thou the maddened lords; 
 Freedom unfurl! 
 
 Let not the "superior" race 
 
 Blot out our trust in Thee ! 
 Protect our boys in France — 
 
 Hasten Liberty! 
 
-32- 
 
 THE SONG OF THE FREE. 
 
 soldier I beg take a heart, 
 A hope appears in yonder sky; 
 I'll show you all 'before we part, 
 Sweet peace, the Dawn of Peace 
 
 Is drawing nigh. 
 The God of men will soon o'ercome, 
 And wipe all sorrow fom the land; 
 Take heart ! take heart ! for peace is nigh- 
 Fll show you that your race 
 
 Shall always stand. 
 The day of sorrow now is gone, 
 No longer must you be forlorn; 
 Just struggle onward, I beseech, 
 The highest aim of man to reach. 
 The Dawn of Peace is drawing nigh, 
 And all fear and doubt must say good-bye. 
 Take heart, your race shall justice see 
 And sing with the world a 
 
 Song of the Free ! 
 
—33— 
 THE COLOR BEARER. 
 
 Day-break and over the shell-wrecked field 
 
 An awful silence lay ; 
 
 The Huns had ceased, their terrible guns 
 
 Were resting for the day. 
 
 Far out across this wretched field, 
 
 A Negro patrol came by; 
 
 Each one upon his errand bent, 
 
 Nor thought of danger nigh. — 
 
 When lo! out from the heavens 
 
 A fleet of German planes 
 
 Flew over the colored soldiers — ■ 
 
 Above the shell-torn lanes ! 
 
 "To cover men!" the lieutenant cried; 
 
 "Lie Low — close to the ground !" 
 
 The men soon scattered to and fro, 
 
 Each one a shell hole found. 
 
 But there was one who did not move, 
 
 Nor sought to cring or hide; 
 
 And in his arms "Old Glory" 
 
 Was waving at his side. 
 
 This flag that once had held him slave 
 
 And once had set him free — 
 
 Now floated proudly o'er a field 
 
 Blood-smeared for liberty. 
 
 "Lie down !" the lieutenant cried again ; 
 
 "Lie low or you must die !" 
 
 But the Negro only stood erect, 
 
 While bombs 'burst near by. 
 
 Then turning to the officer 
 
 He answered his command : — 
 
 "I will not put this old flag down 
 
 As long as I can stand." 
 
—34— 
 
 EASTER 
 
 Slowly and silently upon his way, 
 
 The sun arose at break of day; 
 
 As round his course he lightly swings 
 
 Memories to my mind he brings. 
 
 Today God sends a golden light, 
 
 And the world with hope is bright ; 
 
 Even the birds in joyous glee, 
 
 Merrily sing from tree to tree. 
 
 From earth comes praises loud and long 
 
 Joined with heaven I hear this song : 
 
 day of all the sweetest, 
 Ye happiness bring; 
 
 O King of all the greatest, 
 To Thee we sing ! 
 
 day, two thousand years ago, 
 
 Small hope we had; 
 Now Lord, Thy truth we know, 
 
 And we are glad ! 
 
 Heart join with the world 
 
 And sing and pray; 
 Soul, thy best unfurl — 
 
 glorious day! 
 
-35- 
 
 THE TRANSFIGURATION. 
 
 Midnight ! They stood on the mountain alone, 
 The pallid moon in the distance shown ; 
 They were Christ, Peter, James and John, 
 Assembled that night on Mt, Hermon. 
 They prayed and as their faith aspired, 
 All thoughts of earth from them retired. 
 Behold, they look with wondering eye 
 Upon the Christ — who standing by 
 Transfigured — His raiment as light ; 
 His face as the sun at midday height! 
 His countenance banished back the night; 
 And the Disciples following the light 
 Saw heaven open and out issued 
 Moses and Elias, but with light subdued. 
 A cloud descended and a voice of one 
 Said: "This is my beloved Son, 
 In whom I am pleased;" and to them 
 "Hear ye Him !" 
 
~-36~ 
 
 THE DYING SINNER. 
 
 That evening after the sun had set, 
 
 In a cottage by the sea 
 Lay a sinner dying, his soul was lost 
 
 Through all eternity. 
 What fearful thoughts crowded his mind 
 
 As he lay there — he was not saved; 
 A vision of eternal death 
 
 Over his conscience waved. 
 He knew that he had waited too late 
 
 Before taking up Jesus' cross, 
 And carrying out the Lord's command ; 
 
 He knew his soul was lost. 
 But as he lie there meditating, 
 
 Someone began singing — a child 
 That beautiful song his mother sang: 
 
 "My soul in sad exile — " 
 His mind went back to childhood days — 
 
 "Was out on life's sea;" 
 "So burdened with sin and distress," 
 
 if I a Christian could be ! 
 "Till I heard a sweet voice saying" 
 
 "Make me thy choice." 
 "And I entered the Heaven of rest." 
 
 Silently the sinner lay praying : 
 
—37— 
 
 God have mercy on me, 
 
 Save me from eternal death 
 And set my soul free ! 
 
 The spark of life was going out, 
 But gone was all earthly pain ; 
 
 Dying, the sinner joined with the child 
 And sang this beautiful strain : 
 
 "I've anchored my soul in the heaven of rest, 
 I'll sail the wide seas no more; 
 
 The tempest may sweep o'er the wild 
 stormy deep, 
 In Jesus I'm safe evermore." 
 
—38— 
 
 AN EASTER PRAYER. 
 
 Pent in darkest doubt, 
 
 My hope forlorn; 
 Lost from me? 
 
 It cannot be! 
 One by one te day-dreams pass, 
 
 And they are gone — 
 soul of mine when shalt thou be free 
 
 Out o'er the distant west, 
 A song I hear ; 
 
 Its strains fulfill 
 Thy 'blessed will. 
 
 Dark doubt grows fainter love, 
 For thou art near — 
 
 heart of mine be still, be still ! 
 Wrapped in darkest sin, 
 
 A world forlorn ! 
 L/ sinner flee, 
 
 Thy soul set free! 
 For unto you this day 
 
 A king is born. 
 O Lord of host deliver me ! 
 
 Hope return — 
 No darkness can shroud the more 
 
 Still I yearn — 
 The guiding light reveals upon 
 
 The shore 
 A silent figure robed in purest 
 
 White. 
 My dreams set free : — 
 
 And now to Thee 
 Beloved I take my flight — 
 
 soul of mine when shalt thou be free ! 
 
—39— 
 
 HOWARD UNIVERSITY. 
 
 All hail the college on the hill, 
 
 To thee our songs we raise ; 
 A thousand voices with one will, 
 
 Join in to sing thy praise. 
 For aye shalt thou stand a conqueror 
 in the fight, 
 
 And shine with thy knowledge as a bea- 
 con light — 
 Pointing the way to truth and light; 
 
 This song we raise. 
 
 Then hail the college on the hill, 
 
 With jubilant songs and free; 
 Though years may roll it shall be still, 
 
 Our University, 
 The pride of our student body here, 
 
 Thy sons stand amidst life's conflicts 
 without fear — 
 And from each country far and near 
 
 Thy praises ring. 
 
—40- 
 
 TO LINCOLN. 
 
 Up from the back-woods' rough control, 
 Up from hardships sad — untold; 
 
 He struggled on. 
 Daily he climbed step 'by step, 
 And ever his early teachings kept; 
 
 He gained the crown. 
 
 At last he reaches the highest round, 
 Yet still his eyes are on the ground : 
 
 He sees the slave. 
 With noble heart replete with love, 
 Believing 'twas the will of God above ; 
 
 Him freedom gave. 
 
41- 
 
 TO AN OLD HOUSE. 
 
 Yes thy logs are losing strength, 
 
 Crumbling with decay ; 
 Methinks 'tis been a long time since 
 
 Thou wast in thy day. 
 
 The mud that was between thy logs, 
 Displaced as the ages rolled ; 
 
 Many a youth in rustic togs, 
 Has shielded from the cold. 
 
 And as I look on thee Seer ! 
 
 Fast bending to the ground ; 
 From afar is wafted to my ear 
 
 An empyrean sound. 
 
 that someone would look with pride 
 Upon my poor weak soul; 
 
 And then as now in me confide, 
 When I have grown old. 
 
—42— 
 
 TO MOTHER. 
 
 Thy presence seems about me still, 
 
 Though I am far away. 
 I cannot wander from thy will, 
 
 You guide me on each day. 
 
 And mother dear I do not fear, 
 My hopes are not in vain ; 
 
 I'll fight the battle year by year, 
 With all my might and main. 
 
 So mother, far in the golden west, 
 Some glad day bright and fine ; 
 
 With tenderest care again I'll press, 
 Thy dear sweet lips to mine! 
 
—43- 
 
 TO PHILLIS WHEATLY. 
 
 star that shown when all was dark, 
 
 maid of dusky skin; 
 Who sang though caged like a lovely lark ; 
 
 Deep from thy soul within. 
 
 Could I but write with ink and pen, 
 To thee whose spirit hovers near; 
 
 I'd sing a song to thee O Queen, 
 A song that martyrs hear. 
 
 Yet I am weak, my soul doth see,, 
 
 maid without a stain ; 
 Thou who sang from sea to sea, 
 
 Thy work was not in vain ! 
 
 Though years have rolled away and gone, 
 
 Since hou wast in thy fame ; 
 Forever will a race forlorn, 
 
 Rejoice to call thy name! 
 
—44— 
 
 THE CHRIST. 
 
 We cannot see Him, yet He's near, 
 For through each raging storm — 
 
 He points the weary Pilgrim clear; 
 And guides him with His arm. 
 
 To every one He gives a work, 
 
 Although we may not see — 
 From His sweet call we must not shirk; 
 
 He whispers "Follow Me !" 
 
 THE VOICE. 
 
 Sing on sweet one, who'er thou art, 
 
 Thy lovely voice doth pacify me ; 
 
 That song must come from the inmost heart, 
 
 Praises of a soul set free ! — 
 
 Yes (God be with you till we meet again,) 
 
 My (When life's perils thick confound you;) 
 
 Heart (Put His arms unfailing 'round you) 
 
 Shall with thee sing. — 
 "God be with you till we meet again." 
 
—45— 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 (Mrs. L. E. Dorsey) 
 
 Silent Reaper, stay thy sickle keen, 
 
 As thou moveth on thy way ! 
 Why reap the loveliest flowers green, 
 
 And leave the others stay ? 
 
 O departed soul — perfect Saint, 
 
 If I could only sing 
 Of thy noble life — its picture paint, 
 
 To me 'twould gladness bring! 
 
 Yet I can say — through burning tears, 
 
 Without the least delay; 
 Thou didst thy best — through trying years 
 
 Until thy last day. 
 
 Silent Reaper thou came not as a foe, 
 I know thou art true and wise ; 
 
 For while we sorrow here below, 
 One reigns in Paradise ! 
 
 TILL THEN. 
 
 I do not seek for glory, 
 I do not long for rest; 
 I only want to see my God- 
 Till then I'll do my best. 
 
—46— 
 
 THE MAN 
 
 He chose his work, 
 
 And then 
 With faltering steps he went 
 Into the Cristian life, 
 
 And sin, 
 Temptations 'round him sent 
 With sorrow, pain and strife. 
 
 He kept the way, 
 
 And when 
 The clouds had all rolled by, 
 Beyond, he saw the light, 
 
 And sin 
 No longer nigh — had fled, 
 For Jesus was the light! 
 
 A FREEMAN'S SONG. 
 
 Out from a maze of Heathen doubt, 
 I come, with arms outstretching; 
 On civilization's sea I'm cast about, 
 To my stronger brother beseeching ! 
 'Tis not for Fame and Friends I seek, 
 Nor for some treasure hidden ; 
 'Tis for knowledge, grand and meek, 
 That I may do God's bidding ! 
 
-47- 
 
 THE COLLEGE HYMN OF THE FRESH- 
 MEN. 
 
 Let us come together Freshmen, 
 
 On this beauteous Autumn day; 
 And sing of dear old Howard 
 
 With a spirit blithe and gay; 
 And don't forget our numbers 
 
 For we're 170 strong, 
 As we go marching on! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Shout and sing for dear old Howard 
 
 Shout it o'er land and sea, 
 Shout and sing for dear old Howard 
 University ! 
 
 From many distant places 
 
 We have come to do our best, 
 To get an education; 
 
 That will stand most any test, 
 And when we have completed 
 
 Through life we'll do our best, 
 As we go marching on ! 
 
—48- 
 
 When you see us on the campus, 
 
 Yes, one hundred and seventy strong; 
 
 With our gallant banners flying ; 
 And our voices filled with song, 
 
 You cannot but join our praises 
 As we raise our voices high, 
 
 For Howard is our cry ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Shout and sing for dear old Howard, 
 
 Lift your voices full of mirth ; 
 Shout and sing for dear old Howard, 
 
 The greatest school on earth. 
 
—49— 
 TO THE NATIONAL NEGRO EDUCA- 
 TIONAL CONGRESS. 
 (St. Louis, Mo., Aug., 1910). 
 
 To you who by the help of God divine, 
 Doth meet to carry forward things sublime, 
 Who journeyed here from many distant place 
 To help the onward progress of a race — 
 I extend this poem. 
 
 The day has passed when men of our hue 
 Must hold a second place as once we knew ; 
 The rising Negro race shall take a share 
 In all things great, and you must help him 
 
 there. 
 A pathway lies before, on which all heroes go, 
 And you, dear sirs, must follow if you 
 
 would know 
 The plans of God to lift the Negro race 
 From dire conditions upon a higher place. 
 The world is calling for such men as you 
 
 have here, 
 To stand amid the conflict without fear; 
 That know our progress, which they observe, 
 Who place us in the light that we deserve. 
 Dear Congress, from a peaceful throne above 
 A Father looks and showers down His love; 
 He knows it all, but only awaits His time, 
 To place us at the top, to which we climb ! 
 "lour tears, your prayers, your works, are 
 
 not in vain, 
 For we shall some day reach the highest 
 
 plane. 
 
-50- 
 
 THE HAPPENINGS OF LAST NIGHT. 
 
 "Nature reposes on dewy beds, 
 The birds fly to their nests ; 
 The curtains of night are drawn, 
 And the world is at rest." 
 Congregated we stood in conversation deep ; 
 Our hearts with philosophy and buffonery 
 
 did leap ; 
 When up the street ; relentless fate ! 
 Came Roy, in a lazy meandering gait. 
 His eyes from his unshaven head did stare — 
 In a throaty voice he sang to the midnight 
 
 air. 
 He drew up close as he passed by us, 
 And right into the conversation did burst. 
 His voice rose high in argument clear, 
 All unconscious of the danger near. 
 Ere long we four sauntered down the street, 
 Each one with thoughts of fun replete. 
 There was John, Horace, myself, O joy! 
 We decided to have some fun out of Roy ! 
 And there quite near Mr. Blackwell's light 
 We surrounded him ere he could make his 
 
 flight. 
 "Let's carry him out of town" said John. 
 
—51— 
 
 Quick to the proposition we did respond — 
 Each arm respectively, John and Horace had 
 
 hold — 
 I spurred him on with fluent oratory bold. 
 And as we came to the Odd Fellows' hall, 
 We bade him bid farewell to all. 
 Straight down the road we marched in train ; 
 Resist he did, but all in vain. 
 Fun in Roy did not abide — 
 "Gentlemen, what means this outrage," he 
 
 cried : — 
 Then muttered something about ruffians bold, 
 And kindly we 'bade him his tongue to hold. 
 Down by the Golden property we led our man 
 And near the Gravel road, as philosophers 
 
 can, 
 Discussed his life, and asked with might, 
 Why he was out this time of night. 
 We argued long and much oratory did flow — 
 'Till suddenly we heard the 9 o'clock whistle 
 
 blow! 
 Then grabbing Roy in the same embrace, 
 Gently we turned him right about face, 
 And lead him down a dusty road, 
 Wherein stygian darkness abode! 
 The road was rough, caused by rain; 
 Suddenly, it turned off into a lane. 
 Right here we halted and off him took our 
 
 hands, 
 And straightway began to discuss our plans. 
 Said Horace, "let's carry him on and on." 
 Said I, "Let's turn him loose to run, 
 And see him sprint with might and main !" 
 Said John, "Let's carry him down this lane!" 
 
—52— 
 
 "We will !" All shouted in a very loud voice — 
 
 Poor Roy had not even a choice. 
 
 "Down that lane you'll never carry me, 
 
 No matter what the cost will be !" 
 
 In vain he struggled and swayed to and fro, 
 
 But John had spoken — he had to go ! 
 
 Down the lane o'er ditches and mudholes 
 
 sore — 
 He did not ask to see — that is he lamented no 
 
 more. 
 Along the path by the way 
 Tin cans hidden from view lay. 
 You can easily imagine what a task, 
 To lead a fellow through such a mass. 
 Gloom its raven wings had spread; 
 We could hardly see a foot ahead ! 
 Tugging on, we held him close; 
 Then turned up the road towards Horace's 
 
 house. 
 We asked him, "What now is the matter?" 
 Said Horace, "I believe he wants some water.' 
 At this he said, "No, not at all !" 
 Said I, "I think he is trying to stall!" 
 We led him almost to the gate, 
 There our decision he did await. 
 Said Horace, "Don't you all come in the yard ; 
 "My dog on strangers is very hard. 
 "He'll make you retreat without defence," 
 "And perhaps tear your pants on the sharp 
 
 spiked fence." 
 The dog was barking and running to and fro, 
 So we decided to let Roy go — 
 We turned him loose and 'bade him flee — 
 And down the road he shot with glee ! 
 
-53— 
 
 LET ME LIE WHAR DE WATAH MIL- 
 YUNS GROW. 
 
 Ise travelin' along dis lonely life, 
 
 An' I am dyin' slow; 
 But when I die I want to lie 
 
 Whar de watah milyuns grow. 
 
 Whar de sweet delisus milyuns grow 
 
 Along de ribber banks, 
 Whar de chickens nebber plant dare toes — 
 
 Oh lay me in dare ranks. 
 
 I can heah among doze milyuns 
 De angels singin' sweet an' low — 
 
 Den when I die, let me lie 
 Whar de watah milyuns grow ! 
 
—54— 
 
 TO BUG-EYE. 
 
 The sun was gently rising o'er the distant 
 
 vales and dells, 
 And 1 saw along tne horizon, shilouetted 
 
 against the hills, 
 A diabolical figuie crossing a sandy stretch; 
 A kind of wieid feeling this uncanny being 
 
 did fetch. 
 Grallic as a Gran-daddy, with lengthy strides 
 
 he sped ; — 
 The persperation of burdens hard was issu- 
 ing from his head. 
 The wind blew swift and penetrating, and 
 
 told of tales remote — 
 Now lolls, now swells, now catches his placid 
 
 frock-tail coat 
 And carries it on its bosom for out in space 
 
 beyond — 
 Nor did he stop nor heed at all, but promena- 
 ded on. 
 In his hand he held a bucket, the lid of which 
 
 was gone ; — 
 He opened not his spacious mouth — I think 
 
 he was forlorn. 
 Six days, Alack ! I saw that man advance 
 
 across the lea, — 
 Nor did I moan, I'm not afraid — he certainly 
 
 can't catch me! 
 
—55— 
 
 FO' DE LAND'S SAKE, MAN, HUSH. 
 
 G'way f urn heah, man, yo' missed it ! 
 
 Whar was yo' at las' nite? 
 Why wusn't you at de pahty? 
 
 Why man, 'twus jes' out o' site! 
 Yo' oughter seen doze beautiful gals, 
 
 Dey look sweet enny how; 
 But dat wus one ob dem times, 
 
 Dey looked extra sweet, I vow. 
 Dey flew around dare mightily, 
 
 Playin' dis game and dat; — 
 Why man dare wus a great big gang 
 
 E'ben settin' dar whar I wus at. 
 But dat aint all, listen heah; 
 
 'Bout 'leben o'clock doze eatin's came — 
 One lady lacked dat cream so well 
 
 She put three saucers to shame. 
 But dat aint de question, yo' missed it man! 
 
 We all went home in a rush — 
 Why wusn't you at de pahty? 
 
 Fo de Lawd's sake man, hush! 
 
—56- 
 
 THE BROTHERS' CRIME. 
 
 The day was chilly yet not too cold as down 
 the road they went ; 
 
 Two brothers and their sister dear upon an 
 errand bent. 
 
 The sister taught a country school and had 
 to walk by rail. 
 
 The brothers talked of strength they had 
 and loud with noise did hail 
 
 The beautiful scenes that 'round them was 
 and boasted without fear ; 
 
 Each one their sister's bundles had nor thot 
 of danger near. 
 
 Alas! they came to a trestle long and drew 
 near the edge. 
 
 "Forsooth," the elder brother cried, "I can- 
 not cross that bridge!" 
 
 He argued long about his affairs nor from 
 his tracks would part ; ; 
 
 So the sister took the younger boy and across 
 the bridge did start. 
 
 When half way across she stopped dead still, 
 and sighed with a weariness sad; 
 
 The 'brother at the other end her other bun- 
 dle had ! 
 
—57— 
 
 Then calling to the other boy as only sisters 
 
 could, 
 They sauntered back along the track to 
 
 where the brother stood. 
 She took the bundle from him and bade the 
 
 other stay — 
 Then turned around upon the track and went 
 
 her lonely way. 
 The brothers stood as meek as lambs 
 
 and watched their sister true ; 
 But ere she reached the other end a train's 
 
 whistle blew ! 
 The train was coming toward her fast and 
 
 'twas the sister's aim 
 To get across the trestle before the engine 
 
 came. 
 The brothers at the other end now filled with 
 
 disgrace, 
 Sought to warn her of the train and urged 
 
 her on in haste. 
 The yunger boy whose voice was keen, did 
 
 yell with all his might — 
 The smoke from the engine drawing nigh had 
 
 hid her from their sight ! 
 The elder boy lamented much and urged with 
 
 might and main ; 
 The roaring of his mighty voice was heard 
 
 above the train ! 
 In chorus they did yell and shout and seemed 
 
 a'bout to die ; 
 They clapped their hands in agony and pray- 
 ed to God on high. 
 On and on the train came — the sister they 
 
 could not see; 
 
-58— 
 
 They thought her dead, and paralyzed stood 
 
 to see what the end would be ! 
 Alas, the train shot by them — the air with 
 
 glee was. rent ; 
 Far down the track all safe and sound the 
 
 gallant sister went ! 
 She lifted high her parasol and waved it as 
 
 a lance — 
 For joy the big boy jumped high in the air — 
 
 'twas said he tore his pants ! 
 And light some darkened soul like mine. 
 
 WHAT? 
 
 What holds a man in deep suspense, 
 As he passes by the garden fence ? 
 
 Watermelon. 
 What makes him hasten like the very old 
 
 scratch 
 To get among'st that melon patch? 
 
 Love. 
 What makes him retreat without defence 
 And tear his pants on the barb-wire fence ? 
 
 Bulldog! 
 
■59- 
 
 TO MY SISTER. 
 
 Again dear one, our God above, 
 Has bestowed on us His glorious love ; 
 Another birthday He has let us see, 
 And O the happiness, though parted we be ! 
 Then sister dearest of all the world — 
 Accept this gift, my dear sweet girl. 
 
 RETURN SWEET SMILE. 
 
 Behold, when I look in your dear sweet eyes, 
 A cherished hope within me dies ; 
 
 For you know I hoped that you and I, 
 Would create a friendship that could 
 never die. 
 
 Yet when I look into your face, 
 
 Behold I see not even a trace 
 Of the sweet smile that once you had, 
 
 That stirred my soul and made me glad. 
 
 It filled my restless heart with glee, 
 
 To know that you, dear, smiled at me ; 
 Though not for me, let it shine, 
 
-GO- 
 
 RETURN SWEET SOUL. 
 
 List, do you hear a voice that is calling? 
 
 Do you not hear it — a voice of love? 
 The voice of some one that you love dearly, 
 
 A voice of a Soul that dwelleth above. 
 
 In sweet tones 'tis pleading — 
 
 Come back to the Cross, 
 And there in its shadow your sorrows unfold. 
 The voice of a mother is calling her daughter, 
 
 Return sweet soul. 
 
 Will you not heed the dear words from 
 mother? 
 
 Why do you linger, why do you wait ? 
 The voice of the Savior is calling you dearest ; 
 
 Return sweet soul before it is too late ! 
 
—61- 
 
 LEONAH 
 
 There was an Indian name Kwasind 
 
 Who loved a Dekota maid; 
 He being a Creek to her could not speak, 
 
 So near by her lodge he stayed. 
 Once while he was standing near by her tent, 
 She approached him with noisless tread ; 
 "Though you are a Creek sir, I would you 
 speak," 
 And this is what he said : 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Leonah my queen, for nights I have been 
 Standing out here in the ice and the snow ; 
 My soul longs for you, I believe you'll be true, 
 I love you, Lenonah ! 
 
 Lenonah looked at him for awhile — 
 
 Slowly he met her gaze ; 
 The breeze through the tree-tops whistled a 
 tune, 
 
 A dog in the distance bays. 
 Then smiling she lay her head on his breast — 
 
 A bell in the distance rang ; 
 Drawing her close up to his breast, 
 
 This was what he sang : 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
-62- 
 
 WENONAH 
 There was an Indian brave 
 Who would travel near the wave, 
 
 To a certain wigwam. 
 He'd pick flowers on the way 
 And stay there all the day. 
 And at night with spirit bent, 
 He would hover near the tent 
 
 And sing this song : 
 
 CHORUS: 
 My dear Wenonah, 
 
 listen to my song ; 
 For you dear day by day 
 My heart doth pine away. 
 Will you not love me, 
 
 1 love no one but you ; 
 
 give my heart some cheer 
 Wenonah dear ! 
 
 He wooed her in this way 
 Till at last one gloious day 
 
 He won her love. 
 So they 'built a lodge to live in 
 Near the big sea waters gleamin' 
 And at times when things went wrong 
 He'd sing their old love song 
 
 And chase each care. 
 
 CHORUS: 
 
-63— 
 
 TELL HER FOR ME. 
 
 winds that move from sea to sea, 
 And wrestle the leaves in every tree, 
 change thy course and swiftly go 
 To the dear maid that I love so; 
 In her sweet ear this song unfold — 
 That I love her with all my soul. 
 
 O birds that sing near her each day, 
 In thy sweet song I would thee say, 
 That I love her with all my heart — 
 My love for her will ne'er depart ; 
 Then will my restless soul be free — 
 Ye winds and birds tell her for me ! 
 
 'Tis done, ye have made me glad, 
 
 No more will my heart be sad ! 
 
 You've carried my message to her sweet ear, 
 
 And my soul need never fear, 
 
 For in her eyes a light did shine 
 
 That told of wondrous things sublime 
 
 That showed a glowing love for me ; 
 
 The winds and birds told her for me ! 
 
—64— 
 
 MY SPRING. 
 
 Spring is here, the birds are on the wing, 
 Far and near from tree to tree they sing; 
 And on my soul their melodies ring — 
 Memories of thee sweetheart, they bring. 
 
 Morning comes, again their songs I hear, 
 The hours linger, Ah Love 'tis hard to 'bear ! 
 Yet from afar echoes through the air 
 Bid me to wait, sweetheart, I can but dare! 
 
 Spring has gone, the little birds have flown, 
 I lay upon my pillow tired and worn ; 
 But in my dreams again the birdies sing — 
 I see your face sweetheart, you are my spring 
 
— G5— 
 
 ABSENCE. 
 
 Fading day! — 
 Pale moon o'er the distant way 
 
 ascending, — - 
 Twilight on the silent world 
 
 descending, — 
 Lengthy shadows to the eastward 
 
 'bending. — 
 Far away. 
 Hope Forlorn ; — 
 Love-light on my highest wish 
 
 ascending — 
 Dark doubt on my pining heart 
 
 descending. — 
 One soul always breathes thy name 
 
 unending, 
 But thou art gone ! 
 When in my dreams uplifted, 
 Thy image love has drifted 
 
 On its way ; 
 Leave not my heart in sorrow — 
 Stay till the coming 'morrow — ■ 
 Endless day! 
 
—66- 
 
 AH LOVE, I SIGH ! 
 
 The hours I spent with thee beloved, 
 Were as the 'wakening mornin' beams ; 
 
 I see them ever, day by day — 
 I count them over in my dreams ! 
 
 As ages long they pass by me ! 
 Ah love, I sigh ! 
 
 Then too, Thine image, always sweet, 
 Across my longing vision flows; 
 
 Just for a moment, then gone complete; 
 But leaves an aching heart that knows ! 
 
 memories so sweet, so true ! 
 
 precious hours so dear so few ! 
 
 When twilight bids the fading day good-bye, 
 
 1 count the hours as they fly — 
 Ah love, I sigh ! Ah I sigh ! 
 
-67— 
 
 THE RuSE SONG. 
 
 One little rose 
 
 So sweet, so fair, 
 
 That grows in a garden 
 
 So rich, so rare ; 
 God watches o'er it with love Divine — 
 Radiant flower, art thou mine? 
 
 One little hope 
 
 So dear so true, 
 
 That swells in my memory 
 
 And calls to you ; 
 One can unchain it and make it feee — 
 Who knows — is it thee? 
 
 One little song 
 
 That comes to me, 
 
 And tells of sweet visions 
 
 That are to be ; 
 God sends the visions and song from above- 
 Heavenly carol, thou art love ! 
 
 One little name 
 
 I breathe each day; 
 
 It comes to my lips 
 
 At eve when I pray; 
 God keep you holy, so fair, so free — 
 One little rose — love, 'tis thee ! 
 
-6$— 
 
 I SAW LAST NIGHT THE DAWN 
 OF PEACE. 
 
 Last night in my lonely cottage, 
 
 A vision came to me ; 
 In which I saw the dawn of peace, 
 
 That came to set men free. 
 I heard the trumpet's mighty blare, 
 
 I saw the great war cease ; 
 And from the fields all torn and bare, 
 
 A cry went up for peace. 
 The marshalled nations' guns had ceased, 
 
 Their drums beat soft and low; 
 As off the blood-drenched field they marched, 
 
 To battle nevermore ! 
 I saw you standing 'by my side, 
 
 Your eyes with love aglow; 
 And peace, sweet peace once crucified 
 
 Had come to depart no more. 
 I held your hand with tender care, 
 
 As a light illumed the East; 
 It joined our hearts forever there — 
 
 It was the dawn of peace ! 
 
PART Ill—Stories 
 
 AT MIDNIGHT. 
 
 It was a miserable wet night. The rain 
 poured down in torrents, and, borne by the 
 strong winds from the northwest, beat sharp- 
 ly against the window panes and rattled the 
 casements. All parts of the old tavern 
 screaked and groaned in irritating sounds as 
 the mad winds threatened to shatter it to 
 pieces. We were storm bound. All three sat 
 at the table silent and glum — each occupied 
 with his own weird thoughts. Suddenly the 
 man at the farther end of the table raised 
 his head from his hands and sat upright fac- 
 ing the other gentlemen and myself. 
 
 He was a small, pale, shabbily dressed old 
 man. His face was cleanly shaven and 
 bloodless. His head was extremely large. 
 His eyes, which were deeply sunken, were 
 large and dark. His appearance suggested a 
 foreigner. In fact he looked to be of another 
 century altogether. Looking keenly at each 
 of us he said: "Feels pretty good to be 
 here." 
 
 "The swish of that rain reminds one of the 
 wash of the sea, doesn't it? It makes me 
 think of that strange scene I witnessed one 
 night at Sea Breeze. Would the Senores like 
 to hear of it?" "Go ahead," I said, pushing 
 the box of cigars in his direction, we might 
 as well hear a story or two while we wait." 
 The other man sat silent and motionless, but 
 his eyes looked his approval. "About six 
 
—70— 
 
 months ago," he began in a low voice, "dur- 
 ing my second visit to Sea Breeze, I witness- 
 ed one of the strangest scenes I believe ever 
 took place. What the meaning of this 
 strange happening was, I cannot say ; never- 
 theless, after I shall have given you a clear 
 description of Sea Breeze and the remarkable 
 scene which took place on the night of June 
 13th, you will heartily agree with me in say- 
 ing it is strange indeed. 
 
 "Sea Breeze is merely a name given to the 
 marshes on the southern coast of New Jersey. 
 It is, as is all the state of New Jersey, very 
 sandy. Cutting up its surface here and 
 there are large gullies — some shallow, some 
 deep; winding their way swiftly to the Bay. 
 
 On the banks of these gullies numerous 
 reeds grow, to a height of three feet. They 
 are so thick that one can, by stooping down, 
 completely conceal himself from view. 
 
 Toward the north and a little to the west, 
 the marshes are covered with salt hay, a kind 
 of grass that is peculiar to that part of the 
 country, and which grows vey tall and thick. 
 This salt grass is cultivated by the neighbor- 
 ing people from which they realize a good 
 profit. 
 
 Beyond the marshes the ground is saturat- 
 ed with water, forming one of the largest 
 swamps in southern New Jersey. It is a tan- 
 gle of gum and white oak, almost twenty 
 miles square, most of it under water — a maze 
 of jungle covered islands and black bayous. 
 There are snakes and alligators, panthers 
 
—71— 
 
 and bears. There was an old story told 
 aiound that this place was the abode of the 
 devils. One man had swoin that he had been 
 chased for five miles by a black shaggy figure 
 with a hay fork. The neighbors gave it the 
 name of 'Green Swamp' because of its green 
 appearance, and it is the name, I think, most 
 appropriate. In general Sea Breeze with its 
 great sandy marshes stretching fas as eye 
 could eee along the bay — covered with salt 
 hay; and the mighty swamp in the distance 
 from which the beasts and reptiles, and 
 above all, the world famous Jeisey "skeeters" 
 emerge at night so enchanted me that I de- 
 termined to visit it again at night. 
 
 "This is why on the night of June 13th, I 
 was standing all alone on the great marshes 
 with my face turned toward the bay, drink- 
 ing in the grandeur of the scene. The moon 
 was full and its rays seemed to give to the 
 scene a ghastly appearance. Solitude reign- 
 ed — not a ripple came from the gullies; the 
 bay slept; and even from the great swamp 
 no sound issued. 
 
 "Why had I come here at this time of 
 night? It must be after twelve. It is in- 
 deed picturesque, but O, the solitude. Those 
 were the train of thoughts that ran through 
 my mind as I stood there, and I was just 
 thinking of making my way back, when I 
 was startled by a yell that seemed to shake 
 the very ground upon which I stood. I was 
 very much mystified by the sound and decided 
 to find out from whence it came. I started 
 
—72— 
 
 across the marshes in what seemed to 'be the 
 direction. About half way across I came up- 
 on a deeply worn path. This I could see ran 
 directly toward Green Swamp. I followed 
 the path, and as I advanced deeper into the 
 swamp the yell was repeated. I began now 
 to walk rapidly. I could see now that I was 
 on one of the small islands. Suddenly I 
 came in contact with some tall reeds, and 
 thinking that water was near, I began care- 
 fully pushing my way through until I did 
 come to one of the laige gullies. 
 
 Just as I did so the moon glided behind a 
 cloud and the yelKng which now sounded very 
 near, ceased. I couli not see very far ahead 
 because it was considerably dark; neverthe- 
 less I could distinguish the dim outline of 
 something moving about the opposite bank. 
 I crouched back among the reeds so as to 
 watch unobserved when the moon should 
 emerge from the cloud. 
 
 Suddenly the moon from the cloud issued 
 and there on the opposite bank was revealed 
 the strangest sight I ever witnessed. Al- 
 most in front of me sat a man, no, yes, a 
 man, on a rock. He was barefooted, with his 
 pants rolled up to his thighs; one leg was 
 crossed over the other and he was nursing 
 a toe and mourning pitifully. His head was 
 lowered; all of his attention seemed bent on 
 his toe; so I crept a little nearer to get a 
 clear view of him. I observed that his legs 
 were very long and crooked ; they were bow- 
 ed and strangely, both were bent the same 
 
—73— 
 
 way. His arms too were very long and bare 
 one dangled beside the rock on which he sat, 
 the other was used in supporting one of his 
 large feet, while his fingers caressed his big- 
 toe. 
 
 His head being bent down, I could not see 
 his face, yet I could see that it was mostly 
 covered with hair — long and shaggy. As he 
 sat there, he presented a picture, not of a 
 man, but of an inhabitant of hell, whom none 
 could describe but a Dante. Suddenly he leap- 
 ed high in the air flinging his arms and yell- 
 ing at the top of his voice. His face was now 
 in plain view and I must say it was diaboli- 
 cal. His mouth, which consumed the princi- 
 pal part of his face, was wide open, disclos- 
 ing hideous fangs. All of the other portions 
 of his head and face were completely covered 
 by the thick mass of hair, save his eyes, 
 which shown like mighty stars. This man, 
 shaggy, half naked, leaping about wildly; 
 yelling and screaming madly in the fast di- 
 mming moonlight, presented only a picture 
 of the infernal. 
 
 Suddenly the moon shot behind a cloud and 
 darkness prevailed. Simultaneously the man 
 seated himself, on the rock and silence pre- 
 vailed ; but only for a brief period ; for as 
 the moon again emerged from the cloud, he 
 began leaping and shouting as before. 
 
 For hours I watched that man. As the 
 moon shown brightly in view he would leap 
 and shout wildly on the bank, but as it drifted 
 behing some cloud out of sight, he would seat 
 
—74— 
 
 himself calmly on the rocks — calm and se- 
 rene." 
 
 The little man ceased speaking and looked 
 around as though half expecting to see the 
 horrible vision again. "What do the Senores 
 suppose this strange occurrence could have 
 meant?" 
 
 "I think," — 'but I got no further, for just at 
 that moment the landlady came in with a 
 tray of steaming supper and the strange hap- 
 pening at Sea Breeze was forgotten. 
 
RATTLESNAKE PETE. 
 
 "Whoa, thar ! — by gum ev'ry time I gets to 
 this dam knoll them thar ponies gets skittish. 
 Whoa, that, damye!" and old Dave jerked the 
 lines with all his ruddy strength, bringing 
 the stage coach to a halt with a mighty jar. 
 
 We were perched upon a beautiful knoll 
 which intercepted the old trail twenty miles 
 from Elk's Inn. Old Dave had jumped down 
 from his seat and was busy arranging the 
 harness. There was a worried look on his 
 face, and he was muttering to himself. 
 
 "Anything wrong with the harness," I 
 asked. 
 
 "O no," he said quickly, "they need just a 
 little fixin' up." 
 
 "This is a very beautiful spot. What hills 
 are those to the left?" 
 
 "Them thar's part of the Ozark mountains 
 and I dunno as how this spot is very purty, 
 stranger." 
 
—76— 
 
 "Pretty! Why just look at the view one has 
 all around ; lofty mountains to the left, prai- 
 ries to the i ight, stretching as far as the eye 
 can see; in front the — " 
 
 "Yas, an' if you knowed what I know' bout 
 this har spot it would lose a lot of that pur- 
 tiness." 
 
 "Why, what's the matter with this spot 
 man ! I can't see," — 
 
 "It's the darndest spot on earth !" snapped 
 old Dave, climbing back into his seat and tak- 
 ing the lines. "Taint a thing but hell; that's 
 all ! Giddap ! We got to make the inn afore 
 night." 
 
 Encouraged by his long whip, the little po- 
 nies started out on the trail in a swinging 
 trot. Soon the little knoll was lost in the dis- 
 tance, and old Dave became more and more 
 at ease. There must be something singular 
 about that little spot back there to have so 
 upset a man of this type. 
 
 "Didn't mean no harm, stranger, the way 
 I spoke back yonder. As I said afore, thet 
 spot kind o' gets me ev'ry time I pass thar. 
 Eve heered o' Rattlesnake Pete?" 
 
 "No," I said, searching my memory for 
 such a name. 
 
 "Wal, I didn't think ye had, seeing ye had- 
 n't been 'round here long as yit. He lives 
 'round these here parts." 
 
 "That's a queer name for a man. Is it a 
 nickname?" 
 
 "Wal yas, and no. You see 'twas this way : 
 Way back in the fifties these eer parts was 
 
—77— 
 
 more wilder than they are now. Injuns 
 roamed all loimd; but they didn't bother no 
 one. This har trail was nothing but a foot- 
 path. A stage came pass 'bout once a month. 
 
 "It was on one of tnese trips that the stage 
 biung to these parts a little woman fiom 
 Michigan whose husband was out heer mak- 
 in' good in minin'. She hadn't orter made 
 the trip, seein' as how she was expectin' a 
 visit from the old stork. 
 
 "Eut she was a biave little woman, and she 
 thought as how she could make the trip all 
 light. At Cowan's Station she took the stage 
 fer these parts. She was the only passenger. 
 The diiver was an Injun — Hawk, a purty 
 tiusty filer. He'd been driving the coach fer 
 six year. 
 
 'The first part of the trip went alright. 
 'Bout three o'clock they reached that little 
 knoll back thar what we jest left. It looked 
 rliffrunt in them days. Some trees stood on 
 it, and on the right slope there was a kind o' 
 swampy stream, sometimes used fer a water- 
 ing place fer the ponies. The grass was tall 
 ana thick, and it was filled with varmints and 
 creepin' things. 
 
 "Hawk stopped the stage on this knoll and 
 unhitched the ponies. He told the lady as 
 how he was goin' to give them a little water ; 
 then he lead them down to the stream.. 
 
 "He hadn't been gone mor'e ten minutes 
 afore he was skeered by a piercin scream. 
 When he rushed to the top of the knoll he 
 was struck dumb at what he seed. 
 
—78— 
 
 "Ther little woman was laying half way 
 outter the stage door dead-like — and wrapped 
 'iound her boddy was the ugliest and biggest 
 rattler that's ever been seed in these parts. 
 
 "My God! Had he bitten her?" I aske:;. 
 
 "Yas, and he had throwed back his head 
 fer to finish the poor gal, but Hawk was too 
 quick fer him. There wasn't much left 'o that 
 lattler when Hawk got through with him. 
 The pore little woman wfs unconscious. 
 Hawk hitched up and drove back 'bout two 
 miles to an Injun village. The Injuns took 
 care of the little gal, but she soon died, but 
 the baby was born." 
 
 "Was it alive?" 
 
 "Yas, — the Injuns was skeered 'o it at the 
 first. You see his skin was spotted all over 
 like a rattlesnake, 'cept his face and hands. 
 One old squaw took him and reared him up. 
 The Injuns called him Rattlesnake Pete. 
 
 We had reached the level country. The lit- 
 tle ponies were trotting lazily along the dusty 
 trail. Suddenly I was awakened from the spell 
 by a lurch of the stage coach as it went over 
 a fallen tree trunk. Old Dave was nearly 
 thrown from his seat. The lines slipped from 
 his han^s. He grabbed for them quickly, 
 and in doing so, I caught a glimpss of his 
 bare arm. The skin was scaly and spotted 
 like a rattlesnake's. 
 
THROUGH AIR TO SQUASH BOTTOMS. 
 
 If anybody asked you if you ever saw the 
 Devil, I am sure that you would answer them 
 in the negative. That is because you have 
 never been to Squash Bottoms, for if you had 
 you would have ceitainly seen the Rev. Josiah 
 Fable, who leszmbles Satan in every respect 
 save one — his title. He was the only preach- 
 er in the neighborhood for twenty miles 
 square, and there was nothing in the whole 
 community that could take place unless he 
 suggested or fostered it. 
 
 On the 19th of August, when the people 
 held their annual picnic, celebrating the 
 death of one Pre-Varicator, who is said to 
 have discovered the moon, it was the Rever- 
 end who planned the festivals, and it was the 
 Reverend who received the balance after all 
 the expenses were paid. He was the sponsor 
 of all projects and the receiver of all divi- 
 dends. He seemed to possess a strange influ- 
 ence which controled all things, which a de- 
 scription of him will show. 
 
 Josiah Bable was about eight feet seven 
 inches tall, short of trunk and long of limb. 
 His trunk did not exceed twelve inches in 
 length while his legs, slender and shaky drop- 
 ped eighty-four inches to his feet which 
 
—80— 
 
 spread out over the surface of the giound like 
 two vast Alluvial fans. Two long, limbery 
 arms hung loosely from the upper end of his 
 trunk, sti etching past his ankles. The Rev- 
 erend was made up of muscle and gristle. 
 There was not a bone in his anatomy, except 
 of couise his head, which was of an adam- 
 antine substance. His eyes were small and 
 deeply sunken. They had no particular color, 
 but had the power to take on different hues 
 according to the disposition of the owner. The 
 children while playing happily out in the 
 commons on seeing Bable's ghoulish form 
 emerging towards them across the field, dis- 
 perse in every direction squalling and crying 
 for their mothers. 
 
 Still under this iron rule Squash Bottoms re- 
 mained the filthiest, happiest and most un- 
 complaining village in the world. It lay six 
 mi/es from Punkin Bluff, half hid 'by a ridge 
 of lofty hills that circled around it in endless 
 waves of the green. These hills served as pas- 
 ture lanes for the great number of cattle 
 which grazed on their slopes. Life was hap- 
 py in Squash Bottoms and it was never dull. 
 Always there was something going on; a 
 grand celebration, a barbecue or something 
 which the wonderful mind of Rev. Bable had 
 contived. 
 
 Squash Bottoms boasted of two main build- 
 ings, one was the church and the other was 
 Ben Hauser's Saloon which was in the center 
 of the main and only street in the village. 
 The church stood on the other side of the 
 
—81— 
 
 street directly opposite the saloon. It was 
 a tall, shaky frame building, very spacious 
 and capable of seating" the entire population 
 including the dogs. 
 
 Squash Bottoms kept in communication 
 with Pumpkin E luff by a freight train which 
 came and went morning and evening respec- 
 tively each day. This made it very conven- 
 ient for the business men of both villages 
 and especially those who had any connections 
 with the little biick 'tank at Pumpkin Bluff. 
 
 It was for this very reason that we find 
 Rev. Bable all diked out in his long black 
 coat, which could have been used better as a 
 tent, early Friday morning impatiently strut- 
 ting back and forth in front of the box car 
 depot. He had important business arrange- 
 ments at the Bank of Pumpkin Bluff. 
 
 After awhile the familiar shriek of the 
 old engine came to his ears, and a few mo- 
 ments later was rumbling on his way to the 
 Bluff. The old freight moved slowly, for it 
 was loaded with many machines for lifting 
 and moving. These were to be unloaded at 
 the Bluff, for the engineers who were blast- 
 ing in the slope in preparation for extending 
 a bridge across Apple Creek. 
 
 About eight o'clock the train arrived at the 
 Bluff and Bable swung out of the caboose and 
 sauntered down along the track to the bank. 
 It was a most beautiful summer day, howev- 
 er, not the slightest breeze stirred, no birds 
 sang in the bushes — all nature seemed to be 
 waiting — expecting something. The eery 
 
—82— 
 
 silence was only broken by the occasional 
 bray of a lonesome mule which was hitched 
 near the depot, and ever an anon the heavy 
 blast in the ravine below. 
 
 When Rev. Bable at last emerged from the 
 bank it was nearly 6 :30 p. m. He looked tired 
 and haggard; evidently for the first time in 
 his long fraudulent life he had been beaten. 
 But this was only the beginning. It was al- 
 ready approaching time for the train to leave, 
 and Babel was just thinking of hurrying a 
 little when he was staitled by the toot of a 
 whistle, and looking up was surprised to see 
 his train leaving the depot and bearing down 
 towards him on its way to Squash Bottoms ! 
 Was he to be defeated a second time? That 
 remains to be seen. Quick as a flash he 
 darted along the track bent on catching the 
 caboose as it went by. But poor fool! He 
 was running in an opposite direction to that 
 in which the freight was moving. He did 
 catch the caboose alright, but the force of che 
 swiftly moving train loosened his weak grip 
 and slung him clear over the little depot, 
 landing him on some soft manured ground at 
 the heels of a rawboned, gigantic feminine 
 mule. 
 
 Though feminine, this mule was quite mas- 
 culine when her temper was aroused. She 
 had already been frightened by the noise of 
 the old train, and when Babel dropped with a 
 thud at her heels well — it didn't last long any 
 way. She merely placed both iron-clad hoofs 
 along his spinal chord and he shot headlong 
 
—83— 
 
 over the bluff. Down, down, down he shot; 
 catching and grabbing at the shoit shrubbei y 
 which grew along the steep bank; yet he 
 could not check his speed. Once his adamant 
 head struck the tiunk of a tree, which impact 
 had no effect on his speed. The tree was 
 broken in three places and violently torn up 
 by the roots. 
 
 You will remmber I said some engineers 
 were blasting down in the ravine ; well it hap- 
 peii2d that they were just about this time pre- 
 paring to blow up a great flat rock which in- 
 terfered with their work, and which could 
 not be removed otherwise. Consequently they 
 planted dynamite under the rock, lit the fuse 
 and scampered in every direction out of dan- 
 ger. 
 
 Just as the fuse was sparkling brightly 
 there came a screeching, tearing sound from 
 the slope above and Rev. Bable swung bird- 
 like out over the ravine, then d: opped point- 
 blank on the doomed rock below! Ah, what 
 a look ! The fuse sputtered, a white puff of 
 smoke shot in the air, followed instantly by a 
 terriffic explosion. The hills re-echoed the 
 sound — bounding and rebounding it back- 
 ward and forward until the whole valley re- 
 sounded like the fiery blast of hell. 
 
 The air was filled with flying dust and rock 
 in the midst of which was the Rev. Ba'ble 
 clinging to a huge boulder which was shoot- 
 ing up at the rate of a mile a second. Up, up 
 went the boulder with Babel desperately 
 clinging on. High above the surrounding 
 
—84— 
 
 valley, high above the hills, high above the 
 white clou is, high into the empyrean they 
 shot! Eut at last the old man's grip weaken- 
 ed — shutting his eyes he let go* of the rock. 
 For a few moments he remained poised in the 
 sky, then suddenly tu ning two summe: saults 
 he shot downward like a bullet directly to- 
 wards a large fleecy cloud. In a moment and 
 the Reverend would have had for the first 
 time in his life a bath — but it was not so. 
 Just as he got in about twenty feet of the 
 cloud, the lage black coat he wore unloosened 
 its sixty yards of broadcloth; spreading out 
 in the air like the wings of a monstrous aer- 
 oplane, and Rev. Bable sailed horrizontally 
 in space — 'beyond the cloud ! 
 
 The sun was just sinking behind the west- 
 en hills. Squash Bottoms was peparing for 
 a big supper. Sweet, barefooted dusky maid- 
 ens were sesn coming from the pastures lad- 
 en with milk. From every house there came 
 the burned odor of frying bacon or smoking 
 goat meat. Suddenly the r whole village was 
 aroused by someone yelling down in front of 
 Ben Hauser's saloon. Everybody rushed out 
 into the street to see what was the matter. It 
 was Ben himself. He was standing out in 
 the middle of the steet pointing frantically 
 upwards yelling at the top of his voice. He 
 was calling to the people to look, and when 
 they at last understood him they turned their 
 eyes heavenward and saw an awful sight. 
 
 Not one hundred yards above, in plain view 
 
floated the f : amey form of Josiah Bable. 
 Even at that distance his eyes showed like 
 mighty stars and flashed a greenish hue. For 
 a few moments the people could not believe 
 what their eyes saw; but as the huge form 
 diew nearer and nearer a great superstition 
 fear seiz:d them and they fell on their faces, 
 praying to God that they should not be de- 
 sti oyed. 
 
 In the meantime the Rev. Ba'ble floating 
 'ioun:l and 'round in a circle drew nearer and 
 nearer to the eaith. The people of one ac- 
 cord once more raised their eyes to see their 
 coming doom. They saw the form make two 
 complete circles and on the third come to an 
 abrupt pause. 
 
 For fully five minutes he remained poised 
 in the air about one hundred feet from the 
 gi ound. 
 
 Suddenly the long black coat ceased to flap 
 in the breeze and fell losely at his sides. His 
 arms dangled downward and the Reverend, 
 after describing a complete semicircle in the 
 air, shot earthward like a meteor. He struck 
 the roof of the church, disappearing through 
 its rotten shingles! 
 
 It was sometime before anyone could be 
 induced to go in the church to ascertain the 
 results ; but when Ben Hauser was half coax- 
 ed, half pushed in the door by his neighbors 
 he saw the Reverend seated astride the pulpit 
 calmly brushing the dust and powder stains 
 from his long black coat apparently as well 
 as ever. 
 
JEANNE DE L'AIR. 
 (Romance of the World War) 
 
 It was twilight in the month of August. 
 The cabin cringed upon the steep bank of 
 the liver Clain, seemed lonely and deserted. 
 Farther back from the cabin, and a little to 
 one side, the dim outline of a long shed could 
 be made ut; and encircled about all was a 
 massive vineyard, — black and forbidden in 
 the fast growing darkness. 
 
 The entire site had an air of abandon ; and 
 well it might be for hovering above this silent 
 landscape a Death Angel lurked and waited. 
 
 How long would she have to wait? flow 
 long could this weakening soul continue its 
 struggle against the inevitable? But this was 
 a strong man; strong because he loved h's 
 country, whose dire need of him was now 
 ringing in his ears — and whose call he could 
 not answer. 
 
 The room in which the man lay contained, 
 besides the couch, two roughly made chairs 
 and a crude dresser. The floor was bare and 
 the walls void of pictures. On the dresser 
 was a lighted candle and a small oil painting 
 
—87— 
 
 of a young woman — at which the man was in- 
 intently gazing. There were two doo s in the 
 loom — the fiont door which led to the road 
 outside; and the rear door, leading to an ad- 
 joining loom. 
 
 The eamle gave a flickeiing though fairly 
 bright light. The man on the couch slowly 
 i aised himself to a sitting posture, and reach- 
 el for the painting en the (Lessor. His effoit 
 failed and he sank back on the couch with a 
 loud groan. He was still gazing at the paint- 
 ing with longing eyes when the rear door 
 opened and a young girl enteied carrying a 
 bowl of steaming soup. 
 
 She was dressed in the garb of the French 
 peasant girl, and at a glance one would have 
 taken her for the exact duplicate of the paint- 
 ing on the dresser. There was the same oval 
 face, the large illuminating eyes, the mass of 
 flaxen hair and the dainty red lips which 
 were slightly parted as she stood there star- 
 ing anxiously at the man on the couch. 
 
 "Mon Pere," she cried, placing the bowl on 
 the dresser and going to the couch. "You 
 must not take it so hard. In a few days you 
 will be well and be able to get around. Only 
 you must be patient, — be patient." 
 
 "No Jeanne, I will never be well again. I 
 have only a few hours to live as it is ; and my 
 only regret is that I must leave you alone in 
 the world, and that this accident has happen- 
 ed just when I was needed most by my coun- 
 try/' 
 
 "Qui, mon Pere, if there ever was a time 
 
when our beloved France needed every one of 
 her sons, it is now ! Raccine tells me that the 
 German invaders, are now within twenty 
 miles of Paris, and that our soldiers are un- 
 able to check their advance !" 
 
 "Mon Diea!" ciied the old man suddenly 
 sitting upright on the couch. "Helas, that I 
 had the stiength! But Paiis must not fall! 
 Jeanne, take the lantern and go to the shed 
 and bring me that roll of blue prints in my 
 chest; — the keys are there on the dresser. 
 Preste, mon Cheie, we have no time to lose!" 
 
 The old man sank uack upon the couch as 
 Jeanne darted out of the front door, lantern 
 in hand. The overwhelming news which had 
 just been heard had almost brought the end 
 that was very near. Being situated as he 
 was upon the Gain river, it was seldom th:.t 
 any news of the great struggle between his 
 country and Germany penetiated this lonely 
 and unpopulated region. Although the strug- 
 gle was hardly two months old, many stait- 
 ling things had happened since the kaiser's 
 formal declaration of war against France. 
 
 Jules Russeu had been one of France's les- 
 ser noted wine growers. He had been living 
 on this little farm for ten years, alone with 
 his daughter; his wife having died before he 
 moved to this part of the country. During 
 his entire stay on the farm he had been se- 
 cretly working on an aeroplane; his inten- 
 tions being to make an aircraft that would 
 be formidable in warfare. Three weeks ago 
 while experimenting with his machine, he ac- 
 
—89— 
 
 cidentally flew into a tree and was thrown 
 fifty feet to the ground — sustaining fatal in- 
 juies. The aeroplane was damaged only 
 slightly. 
 
 As he lay there grieving over his helpless- 
 ness, he was aroused by a loud knock at the 
 door. 
 
 "Come in," he called weakly. 
 The door opened and a tall, sturdy built 
 young man limped into the room. 
 
 "What, you he e, Ruccine? How long have 
 you been from the front?" 
 
 "Two weeks, monsieur. I was wounded 
 near Soissons, and the Commander ordered 
 me home as I could be of no use to the army 
 now." 
 
 "Too bad, my boy. We are both in the 
 same predicament. But do you think, hon- 
 estly, that Paris is in any real aanger?" 
 
 "Danger ! Why it is only a question of houi s 
 when Paris must fall into the hands of these 
 invaders. They are pouring down from the 
 north in hordes, and the outer forts of Paris 
 are already being bombarded by them." 
 
 "0, mon Dieu! What is the matter with 
 our troops? Has General JofTre lost his 
 nerve?" 
 
 "It's not that. The soldiers are disheaiten- 
 ed. They do not realize what the war means. 
 It is too sudden. They need arousing — some- 
 thing to awaken them up to the issue." 
 
 "Old, you are right Raccine. They need a 
 'Maid of Orleans* — but where is Jeanne? I 
 sent he- to the shed" — 
 
—90— 
 
 "Je suis ici, Pere!" cried the girl cashing 
 through the door. "0 Raccine — comment se 
 va?" 
 
 "As well as one could be who must limp 
 around while his countiy is being crushed by 
 a powerful enemy." 
 
 "There now, you have done your part. You 
 have served your countiy briefly but well. 
 All France knows of your bravery around 
 Soiscns. Do not grieve, but pray for our de- 
 liverance." 
 
 "We 1 ! said, Jeanne, my daughter, tut bring 
 me those blue prints, for I have much to say 
 to you ere it is too late!" 
 
 Ici il y a' Pere," said the girl approaching 
 the couch. The old man rose to a sitting pos- 
 ture while Jeanne spread the papers out on 
 the couch before him. Raccine drew nigh as 
 the old man in a voice choked with emotion 
 poured forth his geat secret to his daughter. 
 
 It was not a dream nor a theory, but a 
 method by which the now surrounded Paris 
 might be delivered from the hands of the 
 Germans. 
 
 For more than two hours he talked — his 
 voice growing weaker and weaker. 
 
 "Jeanne, he said, faintly; you understand 
 now to fly the machine — I have taught you 
 well. Take these papers and follow your in- 
 structions; I — 
 
 "Old, mon Pere, I will do as you say. God 
 will protect and help me ! — only you must be 
 strong" — 
 
 "Be strong? — yes be strong! cried the old 
 
—91— 
 
 man sinking back on his pillow. You be 
 strong, Jeanne, — deliver Paris; ha! — Maid d' 
 Orleans — Jeanne, — Maid de i'Air!" 
 
 These last words died away in a whisper 
 as the old man slowly closed his eyes. The 
 girl sprung up and bent anxiously over the 
 couch. 
 
 "0, mon Pere!, — Don't — don't — Dieu! 
 Raccine he is dead!" 
 
 The poor girl threw herself upon the couch 
 sobbing and calling her fathe ; but the hove 1 - 
 ing Angel had not waited in vain, for the 
 to*n soul was even now being wafted to an 
 everlasting peace. 
 
 II. 
 
 Dawn, gray, silent dawn — with noiseless 
 tread had overtaken the little cabin on the 
 Clain, and with it, came the songs of happy 
 birds, the breath of new 'born flowers, and 
 the hope of the breaking day. 
 
 Inside the lonely cabin solitude re*'gned. 
 Jeanne Russue was kneeling beside the de- 
 serted couch — her grief -stricken face raised 
 towards heaven in silent pi aver. Racc'ne sat 
 in a chair nearby, his face buried in his hand. 
 Very slowly he lifted his face and stared 
 searchingly at the girl. 
 
 "Jeanne, he said softly, it is morning — I 
 hear our country calling. I cannot answer; 
 but you — you can. — " 
 
 "Out, and I will answer; It was my fath- 
 er's wish, and I will never rest until it is 
 done !" 
 
 Rising up from the couch the girl gathered 
 
— 92— 
 
 up the blueprints and went slowly into the 
 next loom. There was no time to lose — for 
 even now her dear Paris might have surren- 
 dered to the enemy. 
 
 In a few moments she reappeared. The 
 tears from her cheeks had fled. The grief - 
 toin face was transformed into one of stern 
 determination. 
 
 Raccine arose as she entered the room, and 
 stretching forth his arms, drew her to him. 
 
 ''Jeanne, he cried in a choking voice, how 
 can I let you go — mine, — my own beloved — 
 0, the mockery of civilization, when women 
 must fight for their country's freedom!" 
 
 "Raccine, dear, there is no one else to car- 
 ry out this mission. Two months ago I let 
 them tear you fiom me, and now that it is 
 my turn,, do not weaken me by your grief; 
 but pray that I may have strength to do my 
 dear father's bidding." 
 
 "You are right, Jeanne," said Raccine, 
 slowly releasing her from his embrace. I will 
 attend to everything here. Now good-bye, 
 and may God guide and protect you to the 
 end." 
 
 "Good-bye, Raccine," said the girl, tenderly 
 kissing him on the cheek. Then crossing to 
 the couch she took one last look at the white 
 upturned face — and passed silently out of 
 the door. 
 
 Half an hour later, Raccine was aroused 
 by the popping of a motor, and rushing to the 
 door, he saw a gigantic aeroplane soaring up- 
 ward. He watched it circle round and round 
 
—93— 
 
 like a great eagle — then steer noithward to- 
 wards Paris. 
 
 III. 
 
 All night long the great Geirmn siege guns 
 weie pounding away at the forts around Pa- 
 lis. All night long the frenzied inhabitants 
 CiOwdei _n the cellars and basements, waited 
 their doom which now seemed inevitable. 
 Tioop after tioop of the defending aimy 
 weie falling back behind the city and throw- 
 ing up breastworks for the last stand. Shells 
 were bin sting everywhere. The gigantic 
 Howitzers were hurling their death-laden 
 missies with superhuman accuracy into the 
 lines of the French Aimy; and, as the morn- 
 ing sun, blood-red through the smoke-laden 
 atmosphere, soared above the eastern horizon 
 the great Geim n war machine was steadily 
 grinding its way into the heart of Paris. 
 
 High above all, the huge Zepplins hoveling 
 over the doomed city like hideous 'birds of 
 prey, wore dropping bomb after bomb which 
 were falling in the streets and on the build- 
 ings, leaving death and destruction with their 
 every impact. 
 
 By noon the French army had fallen back 
 upon its last line of defense, and the inhabi- 
 tants of the city had given up all hope of de- 
 liverance. The first great drive of the enemy 
 had spent its strength and the German 
 hordes were now preparing for their final on- 
 slaught. The French commander issued or- 
 ders to make ready for the last stand which 
 were being carried out in feverish haste. It 
 
—94— 
 
 seemed as though the Fiench army had lost 
 control of itself. The men seemed dazed and 
 half -heai ted. 
 
 The officers were closeted in their head- 
 quaiteis discussing whether it would be ad- 
 visable to surrender the city or not; and af- 
 ter a bitter debate it was finally decided to 
 surrender to the Germans. 
 
 "Howevei ," s:id the commandant, "w9 will 
 go right along with our preparat'on as if we 
 intended to hold the city ; but when the attack 
 is renewed we shall then act on this decision." 
 
 "Oui," answered General . "Ou * 
 
 city is doomed. I can see no other w. y out of 
 it; we must surrender." 
 
 "But gentlemen," observed an African offi- 
 cer who had opposed the idea of surrendering 
 "do you real'ze what you are to do? Do you 
 realize what it will mean to surrender to the 
 Germans ! At this time to give up would lead 
 to the destruction of all Europe." 
 
 "Old, General Kufus, but what are we to 
 do? Are we not now half encircled by those 
 blood-thirsty Huns. There is nothing to do 
 but to surrender." 
 
 A murmur of dissent came from the other 
 members of the staff as the giant African 
 arose once more to speak. He stood six feet 
 with perfect physic ; a true type of the great 
 race to which he belonged. For a few mo- 
 ments he surveyed the assembly of officers 
 before him. His eyes never wavered as he 
 looked into the stern faces of the men who 
 were once his masters. A breathless silence 
 
—95— 
 
 came over the assembly as the impassionate 
 words of wisdom fell from the lips of the 
 Negro. 
 
 "Gentlemen," began Kufus, "you are in- 
 deed about to commit an awful blunder. It 
 will be disloyal to surrender Paris without a 
 struggle. You say that it is useless to fight. 
 Is it not better to die trying to defend your 
 country than to surrender and see it laid in 
 ruins? Sirs, we have so far been on the de- 
 fensive and we have never yet been put to a 
 real test of our strength. If we would reor- 
 ganize our armies and carry the battle to the 
 enemy before he resumes his attack on us, I 
 am sure we could halt his drive. We must 
 not give Paris up without showing a supreme 
 effort to save her!" 
 
 "There is good judgment in what you say 
 General," said the Commandant rising. "If 
 we could assume the offensive there is no 
 doubt that the enemy would be halted. But 
 how are we to do it? Our men are all demor- 
 alized." 
 
 "Sir," said the Negro, "we need some act 
 to bring our armies back to the sense of their 
 duty and responsibility. This can 'be done by 
 a sharp thrust at the enemy. Some one of our 
 divisions must charge the nearest enemy line 
 — and take it!" 
 
 For awhile the officers wrangled and hesi- 
 tated, but in the end it was decided to adopt 
 the suggestion of General Kufus, and fight to 
 the last. 
 
 Arrangements were quickly made for a 
 
—96— 
 
 general chive on the enemies' lines, and Gen- 
 eral Kufus' African Division was to lead the 
 onslaught. By two o'clock everything was in 
 readiness, and at a given signal the French 
 guns began to rain a sheet of fire into the 
 enemies' ranks. This was kept up for about 
 an hour, and, when the guns ceased, the Af- 
 i ican Division marched out of the city to face 
 the Germans. 
 
 This was the beginning of the end! The 
 fate of France lay in the undaunted bravery 
 of her Negro soldiers. What would be the 
 outcome? Must France be crushed? Surely 
 she had trusted her deliverance in the hands 
 of the world's most fearless soldiers. 
 
 Half way out on the field the black army 
 was met by the murderous, fire of the enemy. 
 They did not waver. Again and again the 
 German artillery fire swept through the 
 ranks of the marching Africans, but the 
 black resolute line came on ; while all France 
 held its breath !. 
 
 Suddenly there came a sharp ring of a 'bu- 
 gle, and the black men, transformed into a 
 mass of howling demons, dashed headlong on 
 the German line like a thunderbolt ! The on- 
 slaught was maddening. The Germans 
 fought bravely. At first it seemed that they 
 would hold their ground in spite of the ter- 
 riffic charge ; but they were no match for the 
 Negroes. The ring of the clash of steel was 
 deafening. The black men came on as the 
 great German line began to waver. Reserves 
 from the rear were rushing to the German's 
 
—97— 
 
 rescue. Up to this time the Fiench armies 
 had not closed up to support their black com- 
 rades and they were obliged to fight the Im- 
 perial Prussian guard alone. 
 
 The German flying machines too were play 
 ing havoc in the African ranks by dropping 
 bombs. It now looked as though this brave 
 charge of the blacks would at last come to 
 naught. But still they fought; holding the 
 giound which they had gained with stubborn 
 defence. 
 
 Suddenly high above the noise of the rag- 
 ing battle, there came a shrill sound which 
 set the blood tingling in the veins of the war- 
 riors! For a moment they stopped fighting 
 and turned their eyes upward. What a mar- 
 velous sight met their gaze. 
 IV. 
 
 Directly over the heads of the battling 
 blacks soared a gigantic aeroplane. It was 
 the largest craft that had ever been seen at 
 the front; and it was shaped like a monstrous 
 eagle. No guns or any mechanism of defense 
 was visible, yet this great aircraft was flying 
 directly towards the German fleet of air- 
 ships ! The^e was something about this 
 strange craft which held the attention of the 
 soldiers. All the field glasses from the vari- 
 ous headquarters were watching its move- 
 ments. What did it mean? What was its 
 mission? The answer to these questions was 
 soon to come. 
 
 The aircraft was now directly over the 
 fleet of German planes. Suddenly it darted 
 
—98— 
 
 downward headlong into the midst of the 
 fleet. There came a 'blinding flash of light 
 and the entire German fleet was enveloped in 
 flames. 
 
 So quickly was this done that the soldiers 
 did not at first realize what had happened. 
 When they did come to their senses they saw 
 the huge aircraft gliding swiftly over the 
 German lines. This brought the Germans to 
 the sense of their danger ; but it was too late. 
 Already the death dealing flames of the air- 
 craft was playing havoc in their lines. 
 
 This was too much for the amazed French- 
 men, who, seeing their enemy put to flight by 
 the mighty aircraft, regained their lost cour- 
 age and began charging in the wake of their 
 black comrades. 
 
 The airship did its part. Here and there it 
 darted swift as an eagle, discharging its 
 death dealing liquid on the panic stricken 
 Germans. They were now in full flight all 
 along their lines and the gallant African 
 troops were hot in their wake. 
 
 All the rest of the evening the battle ra^ed 
 and the Germans were still falling back in dis 
 order. Regiment upon regiment of the en- 
 emy was almost wiped out by the terrible air 
 monster. It was impossible to hit it with 
 their guns, for they observed that when they 
 shot at it the shell would invariably burst 'be- 
 fore it reached the mark. Every German 
 aeroplane was destroyed by this wonderful 
 machine, and the retreat of the Germans be- 
 came a slaughter. 
 
—99— 
 
 Three times the German officers tried to 
 rally their panic-stricken men, but each time 
 they were carried away by the onrushing 
 French and Africans. There was no mistake 
 now — the French soldiers had regained their 
 lost courage, and the German diive on Paris 
 would fail. 
 
 As evening came on General Kufus' men 
 fell back and gave way for the fresh troops 
 which were pouring in from the south. All 
 Paris was rejoicing at the outcome of the bat- 
 tle and discussing the action of the strange 
 craft which had done so much to save the 
 city. Kufus and his officers were discussing 
 the same subject. 
 
 "But that was the strangest aeroplane I 
 ever saw, General. Where is it now? Do 
 you see it?" 
 
 "Yes, Kafir," replied Kufus, "there it is to 
 the right. It seems to be headed this way 
 too!" 
 
 "Oh, indeed! I see it; but it is coming to- 
 wards us — look, it is directly overhead, Gen- 
 eral!" 
 
 The general was already staring at the 
 wonderful machine which was now directly 
 above them. They could see it plainly. It 
 was circling round and round like a giant 
 Condor. Suddenly, it came to an abrupt stop. 
 There came a 'blinding flash of light, follow- 
 ed by a teriffiic explosion and the giant air- 
 craft was rent in fragments ! 
 
 "My God, General! What has happened?" 
 shouted Kafir. 
 
—100— 
 
 "The machine has bursted ! But look, man 
 —what's that falling?" 
 
 General Kufus was already rushing across 
 the field in the direction of the falling object. 
 Several of his men who recognized the situ- 
 ation darted after him. They reached his side 
 just in time to see him catch in his arms the 
 falling body of a girl. 
 
 "God," muttered Kuf us as he laid the white 
 limp figure on the soft grass. 
 
 "Dead — General," whispered one of the 
 men. 
 
 "Electrocuted," answered Kufus, "the fall 
 could not have killed her." 
 
 "Was she alone in the machine?" 
 
 "I don't know — have the men search the 
 wreck for other bodies. Look — what's this?" 
 
 Kufus bent over the body of the girl and 
 stared at the inscription on the necklace that 
 she wore. He read it aloud : / am Jeanne, I 
 Came to Save Paris." 
 
 "And so have you done, Jeanne !" cried Ku- 
 fus rising, "come men, bring a stretcher ; we 
 shall bear this body into the city. The world 
 must know of this noble maiden who has 
 saved Paris."