Class :^.3.£3J__ Go]pght«"_44^a_ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. i3 Copyright 1903 t>y Chas. Kane. INDEX. Page. Portrait of Chas. Kane, Frontis- piece 1 Copyright 2 Contents. Author's Preface 3 Th'e American Spirit 4 My Aim in Writing 5 Quatrain. — The Pen 7 Dedication. — Docendo Discimu's 9 Pitcairn 10 Illustration. — Birds-eye View of Pitcairn. Life No. 1 11 Life No. 2 12 Equity 13 Home 13 Land of tlie West 14 A Broken Heart 14 "Poeta Nascitur non Pit" 15 A Poet is Born Not Made Th'e Workingman 16 "Ye Olden Time" 17 Motto of Gen. — T'wice President of the United States 19 The Fourth of March — Inaugur- ation Day 20 The Good Samaritan 21 The Melancholy Days — New Version 21 The Dollar of Our Daddi'es 22 The Man Without a Party 23 Retrospection 25 Moments 26 A Memento 26 Quatrain. — The Pen, No. 2 .... . 26 Quatrain. — "Men Purpose, but God Doth Dispose" 26 Evolution 27 Page. A Quatrain. — "Better Late Than Never" 28 Moral Forces 28 "Imperfection" 29 Harvest 30 Disguises 32 Winter 33 Professional Dead-beats, or Sharks 34 On Whicli Side? 36 Duty of the Enlightened Citizen 37 Quatrain.— "Pons Assinorum".. 39 Waiting for My Call 39 A Mem'ento, Written in 1886 to Parry Duff 40 Ante-Bellum Days. — Before the War 41 "Speak Not 111 of the Bridge That Carries You Over" 42 How Dreadfully Hard to Be Poor 43 Keep Out of Debt 45 Reversal of the Picture 46 The War With Chili 47 "Lost" 48 Shut Your Mouth and Do Not Squeal 50 Death of the Poet, Walt Whit- man 51 Age — A Simile 53 The Unknown Author 54 Keep Good Company 56 The Gospel of How to Get There 57 The Giant's Struggle 58 Quatrain.— The Golden Daw 59 "God Bless The Boys" 59 Golden Rule for Boys and Girls 61 "Somebody Left in the Cold".. 62 Page. One Minute Late 63 Too Many Creeds 65 A Consummate Wretch 66 Z'ero Weather 68 The Fount of Youth 69 "The Great Divide"— An Indian Compla'mt 70 Modern Justice or Injustice 71 The Blessings of Home ,.. 73 A Wrecli 74 Pleasant Things 75 Hawaii; Chief City — Honolulu.. 76 The Chaplain's Prayer 77 Defeated 78 Sp'eech — "Copia Verbonum" . . 80 The D'efeat of Xerxes 81 Morning Calls 83 Quatrains. — On Music 84 "New Years— 1896-1903" 85 Household Restraint 86 Summer Days 87 Life's Problem 88 Reputation 90 My Broken Idol 91 Going to High School 92 Mild October 94 The Coxyite 95 The People Have Spoken 96 Move Onward, O Time 97 Answer to — "Rock Me to Sleep Our Boys 98 The Unexpected 100 Th'e Course of Empire 102 Addenda 105 A Beautiful Thought 107 Our Fast Age 108 Quatrain. — Fools 110 "America for Americans" 110 The Great Overflow 112 Hold Your Tongue 114 Are Holidays a Blessing? 115 Hope Died at Last 119 Page* Superstition . , 120 Mod'ern American Politics 123 Neglect Not Small Oppor- tunities 125 Degeneracy. — A Quatrain 127 The Mother-m-Law 127 Suggestive Thoughts 129 The Wiseacre's Saying — "I Told You So" 130 The Dying Bngin'eer 131 Hard Times 132 "Not Wanted" 134 "Wanted" 13'6 True Happiness 137 How Do You Treat Your Wives? 139 How Do You Treat Your Men? 141 Gentleman Groundhog 142 Robert Burns— The Scotch Poet 144 "For a'That"— By Burns 146 "Highland Mary" — By Burns.. 147 Common Sense 148 True Politeness — "The Man- ners Make the Man" 150 Wanted— Advice 152 Nothing Succeeds Like Success 153 Advantages of Age^ — By Cicero 155 Addenda 156 The Poet's Ambition 157 "The New Woman" 158 Contrast 159 Addenda 160 Truth . 161 Pittsburg, Pa 163 Enoch Arden 164 My Fortune 166 Natural Fools 168 Good Health 169 Blennerhas'set's Isle 170 In Oil City in 1865 172 "The Monroe Doctrine" 175 Page. Trtbute to Armenia 177 An Iroquois Legend, or tTie Land of Souls 178 Th'e Poor Man's Possession . . . 181 A Dividing Line 182 Rieligious Thouglit 184 The Master's Work 185 Ye Have Taken Away My Gods 186 The Church of To-day 187 Elaster Morning No. 1 189 Easter No. 2 190 And He Repaired the Broken Down Altars 191 A Hole in the Wall 192 Whither Shall We Flee? 194 "The Bright and Morning Star" 194 The Guiding Hand 196 Thanks 197 Our Clioice 198 The Better Life 199 The Storm's of Time 200 "The New Jerusalem" 200 "The Death of Moses" 201 "Th'e Day of Grace" 203 Crossing the Stream 204 Pen'itential Hymn 206 Walk Not Proudly 207 The Sabbath 210 God Bless the Children 212 Tribute to the Fathers — "These Suns Have Set" 214 Charity 215 God's Care 216 Naaman The Leper, 2d Kings: 5-10 217 Survey of Creation 219 The Seven Churches — Of Asia Minor 220 Ruth and Naomi 222 Ultima thule. Utmost Limit. . 224 Heaven — ^Ancient and Modern. . 225 Page. Refuge 226 The Oracle 227 TEMPERANCE POEMS. The War's Upon Us — "D^elenda est Carthago" Carthage Must Be Destroyed 228 A Ruined Life— An Imitation . . 229 Cause of Bad Times 231 The Wine Goblet 232 The Rich S'aloonist 233 What a Gallon of Wh'iskey Did 234 The Deadly En'emy 235 The Maiden's Resolution 237 Cold Water Song 238 The Glass 240 PATRIOTIC AND SENTI- MENTAL POEMS. Our National Bird 243 Anniversary Poem for G. A. R., Written May 30, 1892 244 Memorial Ode to G. A. R 246 Blaine, The Eminent Statesman and Patriot 247 Lincoln — Illustration — Portrait of Lincoln The Angel of Hope 250 Barefoot Boy — New Version... 252 The Tem.ple of Fame 253 The Domestic Hearth 255 Memory 258 The Angel of Peace 259 The Last Experiment — "Epluri- bus Unum" — One Out of Many 261 POEMS. On Courtship, Love, Marriage and Song. Courtsh'ip 265 Cup.id and Mars 266 Musing of a Pensive Swain — 266 Page. Courting — In Retrospective 267 The Bachelor's Haven — An Imi- tation of— "Tell M'e Ye Winged Winds" 268 The American Ladies 270 The Minister's Kiss 272 The Wildwood Strain 274 The Wife 275 Forever Thine 276 Is Marriage a Fa'ilure? 277 To Love and Wed 278 "Th'e Tune the Old Cow Died On" , 280 Courtship and Marriage — At Long Range 281 My Angels 282 The Bachelor 284 The Old Maid 284 The Hen-pecked Husband 286 Truest Enjoyments Found at Home 288 Womans Wiles 289 POEMS ON MYTHOLOGY. The Toils of Hercules 293 Daphn'e 296 Phaeton 298 Niobe 302 Helle 303 Orpheus and Eurydike 304 POEMS OF AN OBITUARY CHARACTER. "Father" 308 "Mother" 309 In Memoriam 310 Immortality 311 Closing Ode — ^Vale! "Any Thing New?" 313 A Visit to the Johnston Ceme- tery 314 Page. POEMS' WRITTEN LATER. Sing Me a Song 315 Boss Rule of To-day 316 "G-old Brick" 317 National Decay — E Piuribus Unum 318 Build'mg 320 New Years Pause, Joshua 3-4. . 322 The Picture— "That's Not Turn- ed Towards the Wall" 323 Excuses Won't Co 324 New Version of "America" .... 326 Song, "When You and I Were Boys" 327 Blest Land of Our Fathers 328 Russia's Massacre of the Jew's. 330 A Song of the Hen 332 Futility of Writing 333 What Is Home Without a Mother? 335 The Beautiful Gate, Acts 3:1-10. 336 "Sic Mundi Gloria Transit" 337 Illustration — ^Grover Cleveland. 338 Answer to "Together" By Aus- tin 338 A Tribute to the Late Presi- dent McKmley 340 Illustration — MicKinley 340 Lines Suggested By President McKinley's Going Home to See His Dying Mother 341 What Is th'e Greatest Good?. ... 342 Francis Scott Key, Author of the Star Spangled Banner.. 344 Darkness^ — Here Used in a Fig- urative Sense 345 A Reminiscence With a Moral. 346 "The Maine" 347 Addenda 348 P'eace Proclamation of Presi- dent McKinley, August 12th, '98 349 Page. Admiral Dewey's Victory at Ma- nilla 350 "Why?" Sketch of Napoleon Bonaparte. 352 George Washington Illustration — "George Washing- ton" 356 The American Flag Illustration — "On Guard" 359 Decision 360 "The Mill Cannot Be Run With Water That Is Past" 362 Labor Song — Dedicated to the Gause of Labor 363 True Hope 364 Greatness 365 Man Was Created for Immor- tality 366 A National Tribute 367 The Poet— New Poem 368 "Mammon" 370 Gettysburg 371 Ballad — Not in Favor of "Lager Beer" 372 Dear to My Heart 373 New Version of Dixie 374 The interview 375 The Man of Galilee 376 Forgiveness — ^"To Err is Hu- man, to Forgive Divine" .... 377 "In the Shadow of Mine Hand" 577 "Look Unto the Rock Whence Ye Were Hewn" 378 The Redeemed of the Lord 379 The Gospel Invitation 380 The Feast of Belshazzar 381 "A Good Man Has Passed Away" 382 "Kings" 383 Quatrain. — Our Coronation .... 385 Snyder's Horse 385 Page. "Those Who Drank Are Dead". 386 "More are the Children of the Desolate Than the Children of the Married Wife" 388 The Popular Verdict 390 The Christian's Home 391 Gethsemene — A Sacred Ode... 392 A Tribute— To "Boots" McDer- mott 393 Days of Boyhood 394 Dewey's Victory, No. 2, May 1, 1898 395 The Union Cause 396 Addenda 398 The Twentieth Century 398 The Husband— Man 400 The Railroad Man 401 Illustration — "Railroad Men". . What Shall We Do With Our Boys? 403 The Man on the Road 405 Lives of Rich Men — With Apologies to Longfellow .... 407 God Defends the Right 409 A Home of My Own 410 Boys, Avoid Cigarette Smoking. 411 To Live Is Grand 412 Calls 412 The Common School, The Peo- ples' Alma Mater 414 U Men Would Only Rise 415 The Aristocrat 416 Wanted— A Man 418 The Pilgrim's Return 419 The Roundhouse — A Ra'ilroad Poem 420 It Is Well 421 New Version of "Columbia" . . 422 A Woman Is Always In It 423 What Commands Re'spect 425 Our Latter Day 426 Page. Wiiy Don't They Do It Now? Song 427 An Evening View — From Heights of "Styling Terrace" 428 Life In Our Day 430 New Version of "The Man With the Hoe 430 Owe No Man Anything 432 Religion 433 The British-Boer War 434 Progress 435 My Poor Sick Boy 436 A Tr'ibute to Queen Victoria, Obiit. Jan. 22d, 1901 438 Forgiveness 438 Mrs. Nation — In Her Role as Joint-Smasher 439 A Vision Sublime 440 Language 442 "The Fighting Tenth" 443 Many Roads 445 Our Heritag-e — A National Song 445 The River of Life 446 The Rose of Sharon 447 The Heroes of the Nation 448 "Oh That Men Will Put An En- emy Into Their Mouths to Steal Away Their Brains." — Shakespeare 450 Men, How Do You Treat Your Wives? 450 Lad'ies, How Do You Treat Your Men? 452 New Version of No. 360 in Re- formed Hymnal 454 Page. New Version of "Hold the Fort" 454 I Want to Be Something 455 Am'er.ica's The Land of Corn.. 456 The Young Ladies' Pledge 458 Home's Joy 459 New Version of "Coronation" . . 460 A Railroad Hymn 461 "The Price" The Children 463 The Mount of Hindrances 465 They Told Me Thou Hadst Gone 467 Man's Aspirations 469 Elijah at Mount Horeb 470 Eden's Bowers 471 Life's Joys — A Sonnet 472 The Golden Gem 472 An Epistle to Miss — Now Dead 473 Love and Friendship 474 Fall of Carthage 476 Kmdne&s 478 Lights and Shadows 479 Mons Deorum — Mount of the Gods 480 Womanly Virtues 481 The Fatherland 483 The Moth'er of To-day 483 Vale 487 Memoranda — Marriages 488 Memoranda — Births 489 Memoranda — Deaths 490 Important Happenings in My Life 491 CHAS, KANE, TWENTIETH CENTURY POEMS ON MISCELLANEOUS TOPICS BY CHi^RLES KANE, AUTHOR. ]V1XJRRYSVILLE, FA. ILLUSTRATED. ID 'i35Z\ (^tM-z, ^.-LQ-IXJ-^ ^'^ Lj-o^ ^ rn % /=> 4 -] 3 M- \-q, 0^ AUTHOR'S PREFACE. It is of very little use to write a preface nowadays, as the majority of readers pass it entirely over, and dive into the body of the work. Is there any use for the publication of more books? We answer there is and always will be. Every age must have its own peculiar literature. What swayed the minds of the multitude a century ago, is now relegated to obscurity. As the world moves along, new men with new ideas, new national conditions must perforce give rise to a new and living literature. Men in this busy and practical age of the world have no time to delve into the musty tomes of the past or ramble through the graveyards of Ancient authors who are only occasionally consulted. Then each age must be known for its own distinctive acts and possibilities. The great authors of the past are retained on our shelves as household idols because of their former value and reputation. Few readers wish to wade through such stuff as Moore's ''Loves of the Angels," Pope's Essay on "Criticism" or on "Man," Milton's 'Taradise Lost," Dante's 'Tnferno," or even peruse the immortal Shakespeare. We have not taken any author as our model or followed any style of composition. We have taken many ideas from authors ancient and modern, and from the current events of the times. We have not received encouragement from the press or from any other sources. But of this we complain not. We believe in Burn's couplet modified : "Honor and fame from no (low) condition rise; Act well your part, there all the honor lies." We have written for the common people, for the American home and fireside — taking no account of connoisseurs or liter- ary trimmers, who always stand ready to condemn. Pope's couplet may show them their intrinsic value: "Some can for neither wits nor critics pass As heavv mule is, neither horse nor ass." 4 AUTHOR'S PREFACE. We believe in a literature that will improve the mind and strengthen the morals, The work of building is our own, ''From turret to foundation stone." Our work has been written principally in our maturer years on lessons drawn from real life. We have kept the pages clean. Our aim has been at least, to do some good to those who are passing through life's journey. Yours truly, CHAS. KANE. THE AMERICAN SPIRIT. THE, AMERICAN SPIRIT. If "to be a Roman was greater than a King," how much greater is American citizenship. Throw your foreign author for a while away, Over which you have studied many a day, Who has lived and written o'er the ocean's tide. Who in American Authors took little pride. Their works are living, the author's dead ; Of them we would have kind things be said ; To add our mite to American 'fame, Shall be our desire, end and aim. Neither envy nor jealousy reigns in our breast, Nor are we of arrogance much possessed ; But we rest content in our simple way, To let others differ with us if they may. If they have a niche in the temple of fame, We would not detract from honored name. If we have but one talent, we rest content. Thanking merciful heaven for what is sent. Take up an author to fame unknown. Who sits at the stool of the masters gone ; Who may be imbued with heaven's fire, But does not to Parnassian heights aspire. Who speaks of things humble and sublime, Points out facts and fates of the present, time, So that the busiest man lessons may read. Thus in considering may take heed. Homely facts may seem to the student vain, By storing them up, we knowledge gain. If rhetoric don't my writings control, You'll find they have a body and soul. Plainness of speech is what we seek, And to mean something when we speak. While we may not speak with the words of a seer, You will agree, my meaning is clear. Take up an author, read something new. Whose Americanism rings ever true ; Who believes in her principles heart and soul. MY AIM IN WRITING. Her "Charter of Liberty" as a whole : Her spirit of enterprise, learning great, That will eclipse every foreign State. Be my tribute of praise to my native land, Till my pen in weakness falls from my hand. Do not talk of a marble sculptured hall. Where each celebrity is niched in the wall. Where some four hundred may have a place, While those outside can have no space. Let my honored niche be the human heart, A warmer receptacle and a part Of enduring fame which will ever last, When earth with cycles of ages is past. If heaven has aided my muse to inspire ; Or dropped into my soul its hallowed fire; If a thought I have written, a word have said, Shall revive some mortal, now almost dead ; If a being oppressed with sin and strife. Shall upward look, lead a better life, I shall rest satisfied dropping my pen, Knowing my words shall live in the hearts of men. MY AIM IN WRITING. The ''Pittsburg Times" in commenting upon the fall of Oscar Wilde and the obscurity of his book, says : "The books and plays they write are as deadly to the moral health, as a pestilence is killing to the body." I have aimed thro' all my writings. To abstain from what is mean, Indecent, impure or revolting, — To keep the pages clean. In what is healthful, pure and wholesome, I have always aimed to find, Suf^cient to occupy my pages, And busy keep my mind. MY AIM IN WRITING. There's life and health in moral books, And such to-day we need ; But the poisoned plays of literature, Are what some people read. The deadly asp-like sting of venom, May be clad in syntax fine ; And the face of abomination. May wear a golden shine. Genius diseased must ignoble turn, To baseness mean and vile, While catering to the vulgar crowd, Perhaps to win their smile. They may deck the manners of a monkey. With deceitfulness of brass ; But he wears despite their trimmings. The morals of an ass. I Avould not defile the King's pure English, Or make unduly haste, To tickle the low substratum crowd, Who have perverted taste. I would not morality dishonor, B}^ either word or pen ; Nor use the mask of pure deception, Upon our fellow men. Down with the infamous "Oscar Wildes," Who publicly parade. Their noxious plays of obscenity, For gains that may be made. Putting on the garb of indecency. May for a moment win; But I never knew of successful infamy. Or tinsel-gilted sin. Unhappily there are imitators, Who ply dishonest trade, In aping vile and low-bred buzzards. Who appear on dress parade. Those who indecency parade, Of low or high sounding name. Should be heavily sat down upon. And made to feel the shame. DEDICATION. When we tamper with good morals, 'Tis as a burning coal, That will turn to plague its author, Leaving stain upon the soul. We can never clothe impurity, In swaddling bands so nice. But it bears the nose and ear-marks, Of its known parent vice. Let me then so write this volume, That generations hence, That if men say he had no genius. He had some common sense. And I would now sound the tocsin. Against what is impure In science, art or literature. For cleanness must, endure. Quatrain — The pen. There is a latent powder potent seen in the written word. Whose majestic power is greater than the mighty sword: A man may rule with a rod of iron his subject fellow men. But may be a dismal failure when taking up his pen. DEDICATION— Docendo Discimus.' Miscellaneous poems on various topics. We wish to present a small volume. Whose teachings shall be true ; Sweet as the breath of the morning. And fresh as the fallen dew. Refreshing to the weary sprit ; Glowing with ideas warm. To which may old and young take heed. Without the remotest harm. As the genial glow of the morning sun, Brings life to the frozen earth' So the reader may find some worthy fact. To cheer the domestic hearth. DEDICATION. Where the ruddy children round may gather, While some monitor may read Some ennobling lines by the author, Which they in after life may heed. The noblest ideas ever penned. Are in simple language fraught; The greatest thoughts of the ancient masters Are thus in plainness taught. Thro' all the tomes of erudition, The fact that is made plain. Is more admired than themes abstuse From which is little gain. To make an acceptable volume for all, We do not believe that we can ; The mightiest seers and prophets old, Were despised by their fellow man. But to know the right and do the right, As we are given it to know. By the omiscient power divine, Is our province here below. We present life thro' a Kaleidoscope, Where are varied images seen ; But we still must paint the pleasures of hope, In living colors and green. Why should we portray the gloomy side Of the mountain high of care? We never can entertain a thought, Of yielding to dread despair. Let us lightly nurse our calamities, Thus sever the Gordian Knot, That keeps us bound with sorrow's chain. Be happy with what we got. For the mountains of misery piled up high, Will be easier to ascend. If our eyes but soar to the upper sky. Midst the constellations trend. Tho' the goddess of fortune walks your way, Her favor on yOu showers. Be not o'ermuch elated or o'ermuch proud. Lest you fall from her lofty towers. 10 'PITCAIRN." Careless plodding along will never do ; > Reach for a higher estate ; Walk in the good old way of virtue, For life is noble and great. Tliank we God for the fount of inspiration, The power to think and indite ; To bring living coals from the forge of heaven, With a glowing pen to write. Then let us constantly try to live. So that at last we may feel, ''Our words do breathe, our thoughts do burn," And sec;ire high heaven's seal. PITCAIRN." Named after Robert Pitcairn, Superintendent of the Western Division of the P. R. R. On Turtle Creek's dull sluggish stream, On steep heights which it surround, And on the low adjacent valleys. Stands this modern railroad town. The story of the Ancient Cyclops who Worked for Vulcan is small, Compared to the giant enterprise Carried forward now at Wall. The ancient worthies never dreamed, Nor could they with prophet's vision see. The marvelous wonders of Art and Science. That we behold in nineteen hundred and three. The swift-winged god old Mercury, WHio through the clouds did bound, Was not in it with the harnessed lightning, That in few seconds goes the world around. Great steel bands span the Continent, Wireless messages in well-directed chase, Send their important information to Great liners that upon the ocean race. » LTFE-No. 1. :11 'Have we the letters Cadmus gave?" Behold a greater now is here; », .■ The expert stenographic reporter, Invades earth's every sphere. While aerial chariots may not plow, The upper currents of the air, Soon some master mind of science, Will on wings be moving there, And in the no great distant future Science will still greater wonders bring. When men may renew their youth and vigor At the waters of some new 'Tierian Spring." Now we draw this as a corollary: Knowledge has to all nations spread, That inventions now considered useful, Are small compared to those ahead. Soon "Uncle Sam" with his endless chain, :May distribute his sacks of mail, Over each hill, valley and plain. Thro' the length and breadth of his domain, j With the rushing- speed of the gale. | There sounds the whistle — ten thousand Workmen all point out and indicate. This is an industrial center, I. That is of importance very great. Those splendid workshops will be greater ; Here are good schools and churches found ; Here's seen the true American spirit ; Pitcairn is a prosperous town. Motor power. June 3, 1903. LIFE— No. I. Thou essence co-eternal With the Infinite of days. Thou art occult, mysterious, Who hath known thy ways? Enkindled, extinguished, yet renewed ; A flame that burns unsubdued. 1^ MINDS OF OLD. To what point shall we trace thee, From what distant clime? From the ancient shores of Lethe, Or beyond the dawn of time. Hath come this vital spark eternal ? It was, is not, and yet supernal. Whence doth this substance come or go? Our answer is we do not know. ^: Life — No. 2. Life is like a sea of troubles; O'er its stormy billows rise, Many "empty floating bubbles, Enchanting to the eyes. We start out in life's clear morning, Our guide is Hope's bright ray ; We, no future ills foreseeing, N'or blight of future day. The present genial sunshine. Illumes your sky, dear friend, and mine. But if our friends or sunshine fail. By an early unpropitious gale. Remember this maxim always true ; — There are some in closer straits than vou. MINDS OF OLD— Earlier Productions. My hours are spent in deep reflection On the mighty mtinds of old; Their thoughts me furnish meditation. Their wisdom I unfold. Trophies of thought pure and refined, ^ Are rich as jewels to the mind; More rich than gems of gold. With my moiety of learning sought, With them cannot conceive a thought. Ho'W great, how vast these minds of old Imparting rays of light, ' More precious than the dust of gold; Or clfaimonds polished bright. I cherish their exalted name, EQUITY. 13 Their genius burns in glowing flarne ; . . To peruse them's my delight. And with them gain an humble place, . That fleeting time may not erase. We speak of minds most noble, just, Whose memory can't be turned to dust, Nor yet wax dim with years ; Mental powers clog and rust. Inanimate clay cannot confine The wondrous powers of the mind; It live forever must. In convolutions plants turn, But minds of old in splendor burn. EiQUITY— Earlier Productions. All o'er creation's boundless fields • Her places of renown Her bulwarks mighty great that shields The subject and the crown I traversed far and wide to see — To find a court called "Equity" -^ I sought it up and sought it down Amidst all these could not be found. I sought to find this "Golden Fleece" In courts of high renown ; And. in humbler halls of justice. But still could not be found. Our statutes are good laws, you see. But law with justice don't agree. Where doth sit Equity, we cry, . ;\. And pause and wait for a reply? HOME. Though we may roam in foreign land. Tread in a stranger's clime. Will not the memory of the past Come rapping at the mind ? And tho' we drift o'er many seas, H ' ].AND OF THE' WEST. Be battered .by their foam, See all the world's varied hues, No place so dear as home. And tho' we walk earth's many isles, Of pleasure's joyous strand ; Gain -'Dame Fortune's" golden smiles,^ And favors on each hand ; Still recollections nCar the heart, ; Back to our minds will come, Of youth's" unripened busied years,' Spent in our childhood's home. We may sair thro' distant oceans, ■ Calm or propitious breeze ; Or to sorne, congenial climate, Within the tropic seas ; But yet the. past associations, Will thronging to us come ; Oft. we dwell in retrospection, In the old forsaken hom^. It matters not where'er we roam. The mind will build a house called home. LAND OF THE WEST. Land df the great unbounded West, I love thy tranquil shore ; Her people more than monarchs blest- Her greatness I adore. Then proudly let her banner wave. Land of the brave and free, Whose power doth the people raise. Whose temple's Liberty. •■■ A BROKEN HEART. A broken and forsaken heart. Is like the autumn rose, That's stricken with the early frost, And no renewing knows. Fled from it has all cheerfulness. "POETA NASCLTUR NON FIT." 15 Its beauty did depart ; Its tender boug-hs hang wilting down, And feels the piercing dart. So it is with a broken heart Oppressed with grief and woes ; It becomes inactive and inert, And no reviving knows. But pierced by sad misfortune's shaft, It turns to quick decay ; Naught but moans and anguish left : Poor heart how sad thv wav ! 'POETA NASCITUR NON FIT."— A Poet Is Born Not Made. Poeta nascitur-non fit, An ancient adage of much wit. Thus it has been by sages said, ^ ^ A poet is born and not made ; ' The vital flood the lava iire. That doth his being all inspire, Must bend his thoughts so that they flow. In meter swift or current slow. His nature must be pure refined, With genius, taste and skill combined. So that he can in nature see. Her varied forms of poetry. He must look forth, above, abroad. Thro' nature up to nature's God ; And must the upper chambers tread. Where common mortals fear and dread. Hence it has been truly said, '*A poet is born and not made," Kind heaven must its goodness share. Its incense and its hallowed air; Mother natures pure quintessence take, The poet true to mold and make. ^ 16 ,THE WQRKINGMAK. THE WORKINGMAN. Respectfully inscribed to the Working-men of the United States. Labor omnia vincet. All honor to the workingman, The bone and sinew of the land ; By steady work and patient toil, He takes a living from the soil ; The earth by labor's steady blows, Is made to blossom as the rose. He is the peer of best on earth, Great kings and princes own his worth. He delves down deep into the mine, Where diamonds black in plenty shine ; Invading nature's hidden store. He bringeth forth the golden ore. By forge and fire he works by day. And night, resounding with the play Of steam and whistle, bustle noise Of million brawny men and boys. Brings forth its products neatly done, , For every land beneath the sun. The ships that plow the mighty main, (Here genius does the work ag-ain,) Are built and rigged by labor's skill, And commerce moves around at will, All honor to the skillful hand, That sails the sea, or tills the land. When rude oppression sought our shore, And foreign hordes did on us pour, The laborer-soldier drove them back. And left sweet freedom in their track. Our union great that oceans span. Owes all to the poor workingman. Ye powers at home or foreign crown Cease trampling the wage-worker down Cease to tyrannize and control And let him, at least, own his soul. If you don't he will rise in might And hurl you down from powers height. ''YE OLDEN TIME.'- 17 See the workingman of every age, Shine brightest far on history's page. The greatest prophet that we know, Received his calling at the plow ; And the log-cabin boys have sent, To fill the place of President. All honor to the workingman With giant arm and brawny hand ; He must yet rule on earth's domains. For labor of the hand or brains, Can't be dispensed, no more than laws, And serves the most prudential cause. • Brethren of wealth, and means secure. Do not despise the worthy poor. Perhaps in some small hamlet reigns The youth of genius and of brains, Inured to toil, v^ho yet may be The ruler. of a nation's destiny. "YE OLDEN time; Well do old folks remember, As an}^ one may know, What our parents used to wear, Some fifty years ao-o. it was woolsey-linsey here. It was linsey-woolsey there, And common living everywhere In ye good old Democratic times O'f some fifty years ago. The living was not quite so fine, Nor did they make such show ; The "board" was well supplied with wine, And to "Inns" did people go. It was corn-dodgers here, It was buck-wheats over there ; And the product of the "stiller," Was welcomed everywhere In ye good old Democratic times O'f some fifty years ago. 18 "YE OLDEN TIME." The dear buxom, bonny lasses, Were loving, cheerful, bright ; Quite few put on their glasses, Their rouge, or **lily-white/' It was "scutching" parties here. It was "quilting" parties there. Tipping the light fantastic toe Was quite proper everywhere In ye good old Democratic times O'f some fifty years ago. Ol-d "King Cotton" reigned supreme O'er his darkies in the pen ; And he sold and bartered daily In the souls and lives of men. It was "freedom" up here, It was "slavery" down there, And the everlasting "Nigger" Caused trouble everywhere In ye good old Democratic times Of some fifty years ago. Let us now turn to our bankers — Our money furthermore ; The late revised "Detector," Had a place in every store. It was "wild-cat" money here, "Shinplasters" over there ; Five to ten per cent "discounting," Was common everywhere In ye good old Democratic times O'f some fifty years ago. But thanks to a kind providence, We live in better times, When "fiat" money don't go In dollars and in dimes. It is money sound up here, It is money sound down there ; But a reversal of administration Causes trouble everywhere In the year of grace, 1895. 'YE OLDEN TIME." 19 We have an era of good feeling Between the North and South And men discussing politics Don't dread a broken mouth. It is freedom up here, It is freedom down there, And a re-united union While one flag is everywhere In the year o'f grace, 1903. Motto of Gen. — Twice President of the United States. "Ask for nothing but what is right." "Ask for nothing but what is right," (Submit to nothing wrong,) Was the watchword of a statesman, That made him great and strong, He towered up as the mountain high, And there recorded his name, Which stands to-day in the upper sky, On the pinnacle of fame, Inured to poverty and toil, He became a soldier true ; He loved his land, his native soil, And fought its battles through. By friends beloved — by foes revered, He was chosen to make the laws Of the nation to which he adhered, And fought in the righteous cause. The war of 18 and 12 came on. And the hero^ of wars before. Longed for employment in the field, — His country's cause once more. Great Britain's fleet came thundering up, And opened a murderous fire ; But our patriot's valor and strategy too, Soon forced them to retire. He reared his fort of cotton bales On the Mississippi's plain ; Soon victory perched upon him. New Orleans was safe again. 20 THE FOURTH OF MARCH. For his valiant conduct in the field, His countrymen claimed the right To place him twice in the President's chair The Nation's greatest height. We thus see the fortune of a boy, Who was honest, firm and true. Whom the country delights to honor ; But his name — can be guessed by you. THE FOURTH OF MARCH— "Inauguration Day.' The fourth of March will come and go, With its rain and mud — its slush and snow, In this our very uncertain clime, The fourth of March is, "inapropos" time, To travel hundreds of miles away To see the sights of inauguration day. Yet the dear people, as you may know. Are all expectant to see the show ; •What matters the storm, the wind or rain. The elephant's there with all his train ; What matters the rush, the jam or squeeze, The people, you know, enjoy the ''breeze." When ''Uncle Sam" set up for himself. He was poor in worldly goods or pelf ; He robed not in royalty grand or dim, A modest president suited him; Acquiring this habit in an earl}^ day, It grew upon him and came to stay. And ever since the custom has been, One"regime" goes out, another comes in; The American Eagle wakes from his dream, And utters a loud and piercing scream ; And Uncle Sam with his musical chin, Talks of taking the continents in. Will not our legislators great. Who guide the grand old ship of State, Grant a permanent change — a later day, THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 21 To take in the town, if they feel that way, And then a hundred thousand strong, Shall march the president right along. Here wealth and beauty, fashion, pride, Gayly attired, march side by side ; Must shake his paw and make him a call, And see the president at the ball. Partisan bitterness now is o'er. Until renewed in four years more. ^ THE GOOD SAMARITAN. In sacred story annals^ One of which we read. There lived a good Samaritan, Who did a noble deed To him of neither race nor kin ; But bore him to a friendly Inn. Who then is my worthy brother? That man of friendship true, AVho seeing his neighbor suffering. Seeks out some good to do ; And never stops to count the cost, Knowing such deeds are never lost. 'THE MELANCHOLY DAYS"— New Version. The melancholy days are come, The rains are falling down ; And nature's face of late so gay, Is darkened by a frown. The toughest kind of mud abounds. And gloom hangs over all ; While nature sits in sullen tears, Enshrouded in a pall. When I muse of pleasant spring-time, I stop to heave a sigh. To think this maid of beauty. Was only born to die. ■22 THE DOLLAR OF OUR DADDIES. Now pallid autumn reigns supreme, The rose has left her cheek ; When she freezes up your whiskers, Her pallor makes you shriek. Nature has her compensations, Though some are '*wet" and "dry ;" Each can take his glass of cider, And eat his pumpkin pie. And some old corn-fed turkey, Perhaps he knows it not, May take to himself a ''tumble," And land right in the pot. 'Tis now I think of John Reform, Who office vainly sought ; It so happened that the other fellow, The snug position got, But let us cease our murmuring, Bring out some timely cheer ; Be thankful for what the seasons bring. And thus conclude the year. THE DOLLAR OF OUR DADDIES. The dollar of our daddies, 'Tis a mighty fine thing; And had I plenty of them I'd feel rich as any king. But somehow or other. As any one can see, Of this filty lucre, My pocket-book is free. But when I reach to grasp it, Tho' active I may be. It quickly slips my digits, Like the Irishman's flea. But there's one thing I abhor, It runs against my will, To see the other fellow have it, Locked up safely in his till. THE MAN WITHOUT A PAKTY. 23 I pity the poor sinner Who has it in his grip, But like a hot potato, He quickly lets it slip. When some other miser gets it, — The poor stingy deil Pinches it so tightly, He makes the eagle squeal. The dollar of our daddies. Though not worth its face. To own a hundred thousand, Is considered no disgrace. But the chap that gets them, By whatever plan, The world gives him credit. As a very smart man. Let us have at least a few To buy our daily bread. So that the group of children, May be housed and fed. The dollar of our daddies, Great many ends will meet ; The man that is bare-footed. Can put shoes upon his feet. When you get it, grow or prosper. Be filled not with deceit ; We find it the best passport, Or friend that we can meet. But let us stop this racket ; Each one pursue some plan. Tho' you never may get rich. To get the most you can. THE MAN WITHOUT A PARTY. The man without a party. How beautiful he stands ; The cynosure of every eye, The marching columns pass him by; 24 THE MAN AVITHOUT A PARTY. In dreadful solitude he reigns, Like a child that long has wandered. Away from its mother's side, Like a fragile bark surf-beaten. And stranded by the tide, This modern Solon in his wisdom, Sees fit to stand aloof ; For one party wears the horns, And the other shows the hoof. One old party had its Jackson, And another" had its Clay, A third had Victoria WoodhuU — Like the fathers — where are they? Echo only answers where, But yet the world doesn't care. Not a quarter century ago. We had our great St. John ; But like the glimmering igiiis-fatuus, Has old Prohibition gone. The two grand old parties. That have for generations stood, While they may have committed errors. Have done the nation good. But on the past we shall not dwell. For victories must in future tell. Our civilization must have parties, To reforms bring about ; For when one commits excesses. The other drives it out. In what place shall we find a party Without reproach or stain? We ransack all history's pages, And find our search in vain.. Our statutes may be wronged by men, But justice outraged will right again. We cannot then desert a party. Because some the right won't do ; Those who triumph in unjustice. Will soon pass away from view. RETROSPECTION. 25 When a party ceases to be useful, We should promptly pass it by ; For having outlived its usefulness, It should be consigned to die. RETROSPECTION. Alas, how oft unbidden, Will the thinking streamlet flow. When in retrospective glances, The years of long ago. Bring back scenes long departed ; Quite oft to me it seems, I behold my angel mother. In many passing dreams. In the homestead old departed. Where spent my youthful years, Life aglow with anticipations, Unmixed with future fears, I still behold my sainted mother. As I knelt beside her chair ; And repeated as she taught me, A childish infant prayer. Tho' life has brought its burden. And years have come with cares, -- On the brow that once was raven, %• • Has appeared the silver hairs, . Yet would I were a boy again, ' And for a moment meet The now broken family circle ; My joy would be complete. As we drive along life's pathway, Partake its transient cheer. The thoughts of home and mother May we evermore revere. ^ Pray let us still remember. Our mother's infant prayer; And when in heaven we nreet her, ,.;,i ^Repeat it with her there. ^ 26 MOMENTS. MOMENTS. There are moments of sorrow and moments of pain. Moments when life seems wholly in vain ; When, us, burdens of suffering seem to o'ertake — Hearts down-cast almost ready to break. We discern a glimmer of hope in the sky, And darkness gives way when the clouds pass by. Earth has no disease but there is some cure, And the darkest of nights can't always endure ; Soon the stars shining bright in beauty display. The coming in of the full-orbed day. A MEMENTO. Yea, tenderly we cherished him, But when the spring-time fair, Brought forth its feast of flowers, Our darling was not there. Yea, tenderly we laid him low. Beneath the frozen sod ; With tears our hearts did overflow, — We gave him back to God. — In memory of the author's son. QUATRAIN— The Pen^No. 2. A man may inherit riches, extensive wide domains, Be plastered o'er with titles, yet have very little brains ; He may wear the brand and dollar mark of very wealthy men Yet, may be an ignoramus when he tries to wield the pen. QUATRAIN. "Men purpose, but God doth dispose" — "La gente pone, y Dios disponso." Men may plan their campaigns with the greatest skill ; Dispute every inch of ground with a determined will, Sweep down like an avalanche upon opposing foes, 'Tis nought. "Men may purpose but God doth dispose." EVOLUTION. 27 EVOLUTION. In this age of evolution, In this time of mighty seers, Occult wisdom is unfolded. Which had dormant lain for years, Some of the world's later sages, In speaking of their plan. Tell us it took myriads of ages, To evolute a man. Where is Newton, Milton, Luther? Thrown deep into the shade By these inspired literati, Which the latter days have made. Law-maker Moses made his blunders; His burning bush of flame Is robbed of its poetic splendors; Nought is left us but the name. On what mount were these transfigured? Did Jupiter or fiery Mars Flash celestial light upon them, Or some other leading stars? What if Beecher did believe it. Or is taught by great divines ; Give me the grand old volume. Where greater wisdom shines. They tell us of an after probation Of hypocrites below, Who sought the shades of Hades, And did no cleansing know. Oh, erudite professor learned. In tomes of mystic art ; Your learnings turned to foolishness, Perverted is your heart. The soul unto death that sinneth, We know shall surely die ; This great decree of heaven, Hath been given from on higrh. MORAL FORCES. Yet, in that mysterious region, We can't divine by whom — Stands the modern sma,rt; professor. And swings the cleansing broom. \\ Let us then be truly thankful. Though living. in a, line Of great ancestral monkies, . We are truly doing fine. Though it took a thousand years Or more to evolute a man. We feel just .as safe and happy, , Resting in the good old plan. - A quatrain — VBett^e'r late than never." ''Mas vale tarde que hunca." "Better late than never,'' but better never late ; What v/ill it availyou when closed is the gate Against ypi-i t^^i*o' which you aimed to climb, To the mountain of success upon the map of time? MORAL FORCES. The world admires its warriors" From distant times remote; Its g-rand illustrious generals, Who foes in battle smote. The world 'always worshipped heroes, At home or in the field; Erected have been triumphal arches, To the man who wouldn't yield: '■■' In the days of inquisition, ■'" ' The fagot andThe stake, ' Were great persuasi¥e"arguments. To converts quickly make, And even in" reformation times; " ■ To differ was to die ; •- The lurid flames that lit the martyrs-^ Rose as a light on hieh.- ^ • ^ "IMPERFECTION." 29. To illiimiiie future ages, And dispel the gloom of night, / '.'''/, The centuries dark pages, Became gradually more bright. . ' ''. Thus appeared the bow of promise,' '" ' On the heaven's arc divine ; Read: 'Tn hoc signo vinces," "We shall conquer in this sign."'' , ' '.' Oh, hark the din of sounding battle, ".' The boom of cannon's roar; '.,' 'Tis but the sound of printing presses, Only this and nothing more,. That shall arouse the sleeping millions; The dry bones all awake ; . . . : . Unnumbered vast and living armies, / ! ' They in array shall make. Oh, haste the grand millennial time, .' The day foretold by seers; , ; Swords be made into pruning hooks, To plow-shares shall be spears. Arouse ye moral conquering heroes, March on the enemy's towers ; And tho' the struggle may be long,' Final victory shall be ours. 'IMPERFECTION." The bow of promise may seem bright ' '. ,. To the child by misfortune driven; Beyond the ebon walls of night, Hope sees refulgent heaven." : The praise that's awarded genius true, May indeed to the mind seem pleasant ; The laurels that deck the conqueror's brow. May be wholly evanescent. And the rich and princely millionaire, By costly retinue attended. May not be Paradise gates so near. As the poor and unbefriended ; 30 HARVEST. There is not a step in the ladder of life, But there may be one that's lower ; And the tyrant autocrat of to-day, May to-morrow be out of power. The radiant dawn of a better day, In the distance may seem nearer; When dense darkness giveth way. The horizon is much clearer. For the fabled fount of life and youth, We have a cleansing one that's higher ; Where age puts on perpetual bloom, To which all our aims aspire. There is never a time for dark despair, Tho' threatening clouds may lower; And engulfing billows seem everywhere, So that you may seem in their power. Cheer up sad soul, walk in duty's way. Do not sad misery borrow ; Tho' threatening storms surround you to-day, There's a rift in the clouds to-morrow. The midnight sun may illume the skies, Where our guardian angels hover ; And the fount of life may be so near. That its source we may not discover. Away beyond time's surging floods. Behold the celestial portal ; And we clasp the hand of the loving one, That gives us a crown immortal. HARVEST. The mowing and reaping is now going on In the midst of ten thousand fields ; Beneath the heat of a tropical sun, The earth her harvest yields. Old Ceres hath in profusion strewn, O'er hill and valley and plain ; Thick as the stars in the upper sky, Are the shocks o'f the golden grain. HARVEST. 31. The sickle of Boaz is heard as of yore, On Bethlehem's hillside or plain, When Ruth was suffered to stay in the field, Gleaning a share of the grain. The hills of Palestine still doth bear, For a conquered and scattered race ; Times' march o'f improvement cannot be seen. For the Turk has control of the place. While freedom is dead in that down-trodden place, With mountains and valleys forlorn, Behold the bright star of the Occident, Where a nation of freemen was born. Where the triumphs of science are great. And wonders are everywhere seen ; Millions of acres are cut and tied. By the reaping and binding machine. The greatest o'f all times revolutions. Has been won by science and art; The wind and the lightning are harnessed. And taught to perform their part. Man that was once a poor galley slave. Knows well that ''knowledge is power;" For the elements yield to his touch. Supplying his wants every hour. Can anything newer be under the sun A former old saying and trite? "What man can do, can again be done." But can he soar to a greater height? The age of invention has rightly begun ; There is room for ten thousand more ; The featherless biped must yet take wings, Through the ether's depths to soar. What shall we render by way of praise. To that author of light so great. Who hath hitherto led our nation along. To its present exalted height? Come thank this kind author of good. From the innermost depths of the soul, That we in goodness and greatness advance, And reach our proud destiny's goal. [ 32 DISGUISES. While seed-time and harvest shall come and go, And harvesting, never. shall cease. We all shall enjoy the blessings of home, ,,; And pray for continual peace, And v^hen the grim old reaper at last, The Lord of the harvest appears, ' He will gather us in to His garner above. To rest through the cycle of years. DISGUISES. Does friendship go out with the touch of the hand? Is affection beneath the smile that is bland? Is anything meant when we heartily take The hand of another, and press it and shake? To the querries we make, we pause for reply. And watch the vast throng as they hurry us by ; 'Tis the smile and the nod, the tip and the bow, Greetings exchanged, we cannot tell how. A tradition runs down from the earliest day, That people don't mean one-half what they say ; By riper experience, we know it is true, They will not account for the half that they do. Is life's panorama, a thing real or dream? For sights on the surface are not what they seem, To detect glitter from g"old, tinsel from paint, Would puzzle the practical eye of a saint. An old maxim we think with wisdom is fraught. That language is made to conceal our thought ; We say one thing" while another we think ; While we talk to the one, to the other we wink. Why not name a thing right, call a spade a spade ; And a thief, a thief, in business or trade ; Don't parade your virtue, and hide your sin, A snow-white front and a serpent within. We read in the Grecian legends old. That Midas changed what he touched to gold. Of what he touched he could eat none. For his food and drink had p-old become. WINTER. 33 Touch man now-a-days with gold from the mill, And he will assume any shape you will. Men are not troubled for what they do, Until their sins are exposed to view. But talk or theorize as we may, Deception moves on in the same old way ; But man is fragile, deceitful, weak, And we scarcely expect he off will break From the sins of Adam, of standing long. Deceits in the breast of the busy throng, But honor and truth in friendship's plan, Must show to the world the perfect man. Quatrain : "Timie reveals all things. ''Tempus omnia revelat." Take warning, O man, it is vain to conceal ; For time will your innermost acts reveal ; As has often been said, there is no doubt, But your sins and deeds will be found out. WINTER. The decree has gone forth that winter shall come For old Boreas shall blow; He comes from- his cavern in the North, In his chariot carries the snow. He covers the earth with a mantle of white. And his pale fair Northern bride, The Arctic queen — the frost so bright, In majesty sits by his side. As old "Father Time" in his onward flight. Rounds out the passing year. He sheds the frost from his hoary beard ; His ice and his snows appear. Stern winter comes in his ghastly garb, We sit by our fires aglow ; The little boy with his bran new sled, Hurrahs for the "beautiful snow." M PROFESSIONAL DEAD-BEATS, OR SHARKS. And tho' we cannot sail thro' the air, Bring out the caparisoned steed ; The blithe young couple cheery and fair Move onward at rapid speed ; For the heart of the lover is glad, As he clasps his "best girl's" hand, To know the time for sleighing has come. And the sleigh-bell is heard in the land. •Tho' heaven has blest our basket and store, 'Tis more blest to give than receive ; Chill penury raps at the poor man's door ; There are wants for all to relieve. Let us all be thankful for mercies and gifts. May our hearts with charity glow; Then will we rejoice that the winter, Comes clad in his garments of snow. PROFEiSSIONAL DEAD-BEATS, OR SHARKS. Sheriff: 'T come now to make a levy on your property for the benefit of your creditors." Citizen, dead-beat : ''Mr. Sheriff, I must inform you that this property belongs to my wife. There have been sharks and dead-beats, Since the world was set afloat; There have been a class of cowards. Who hid behind a moat, But of all the most contemptible. On this side of heaven or hell, Is he who hides behind a screen; By his creditors cannot be seen, Behind a female petticoat. Pert Jacob of old put on disguise, To. gain the blessing grand ; Then to deceive his father's eyes. He reached forth Esau's hand. Thus acts ignoble and ingrate. Will still themselves perpetuate. PROFESSIONAL DE AD-BE Al'S, OR SHARKS. 35 And pure deception still, I trow Holds a very prominent place below : — Good honesty stands subordinate. There's a hundred different ways to scale A just and honest debt; There's many a rogue, at large, unhung, Who should his deserts get, The ten thousand schemes to beat Are developed into an art to cheat ; Here science vile pursues her part, And what with prostituting art, Extremes in deviltry meet. The widow's mite, the orphan's fund, And monies held in trust, Have vanished as the vapory air ; For the bank is on a "bust." And waiting crowds before the door, Those hungry sharks, in vain implore. A receiver will settle by and by ; And five per cent, appease the cry; Some day later will balances adjust. Our ''three-hundred-dollar" statute clause, Is perverted into a curse ; For villains will buy the more because. It gives a chance to swindle worse. While I do not advocate a jail, Professional thieves should get no bail ; Their names should be posted on the street; ''A professional villain and dead-beat," If in paying their bills they fail. That good business man is prosperous, Whose name and credit keep afloat ; But hell won't make him "pony up," Who hides behind a moat, (The top of whose castor you may view, You need no 'scope to read him through,) Of cotton-fibre, corset-steel ; And there he doth himself conceal, Behind a female petticoat. 56 ON WHICH SIDE? ON WHICH SIDE? For the Attention of Young Men. On which side do you stand, young man? Which way do you trend? It is easy to float with the current's flow, It requires no genius to downward go ; But what shall we say of your end, young man. But what shall we say of your end? What company do you keep, young man? Where do you evenings spend? It is easy to be a loafer, you know, A worthless bum, as the sayings go ; But what shall we say of the end, young man. But what shall we say of the end? Which track do you take, young man, That of the wrong or the right? Are your words and actions all profane, Do you sometimes curse with might and main? You also take a hand in a fight ; But do you think this is right, young man? Ah, you know well it's not right. Where do you spend your cash, young man ? It is money that talks, you see. Does satan get the bulk of your cash? Are you under his whip, his spur and lash? What shall the end of it be, young man. What shall the end of it be? Do you sometimes gamble and drink, young man, Do you touch your employer's till ? Do you not know the transgressor's way, Always leads to the foot of the hill ? And character ruined and lost, young man. Cannot be regained at will. What volumes of books do you read, young man ? That which is useful and true? On wisdom's words do you mentall}^ feed, Or is trash the matter for you? Have you a useful life in view, young man. Have you a useful life in view? ON WHICH SIDE? 37 In the name of religion and truth, young man, In the name of virtue and peace, Cultivate w^ell the seed-time of youth ; And look for a happy increase. If you waste your earlier years, young man. Soon shall opportunities cease. Finally, on which side do you stand, young man ? What to-day is your choice? Is your reputation of no account, Or wisdom's warning voice? Now is the accepted time, young man, The time to make your choice. Then wisely choose your course, young man, I entreat you not to delay ; It is mighty hard to retrace your steps. When once in the tempter's way. Your eternal destiny, young man, Depends on your choice to-day. There are many breakers ahead, young man, All tending to bear you down. If you continue in sin's dark way. And be with transgressors found. You will sink beneath the waves, young man. Their weight shall bear you down. If I can aid you to reach the goal, young man, By either petition or pen. To lift out of the mire a prostrate soul, I shall surely have gained my end But if entreaty is of no avail, I have failed to be your friend. There is a good and useful place, young man, To which you may aspire ; In some useful work, enroll your name Still aiming to be higher. That the world will be better because you lived, Is your humble friend's desire. 38 DUTY OF THE ENLIGHTENED CITIZEN. DUTY OF THE ENLIGHTENED CITIZEN. You are an enlightened citizen, And yet you seldom read The authors of much excellence, N'or their instructions heed. Some men are acting while they live, While others, slow-paced seem, A race of poor nonentities, Unstable as a flitting dream. The great immortal Shakespeare, Has in his writings said, That the evil men are prone to do. Live after they are dead. Is life of value, worth the living? Well, that will much depend Whether your aims are truly noble, Or in worthless ways you trend. Have you just a single talent? There is much for you to do In fighting life's momentous battle, And pulling safely through. Away with drones and sluggards. Such the world does not need; Emulate some worthy person, And do some noble deed. Would you court the famed Apollo? Would you maxims sage indite? Would you win the grace of the muses, And songs of beauty write? Would you climb the ''hill of science," Her laurels proudly wear? Don't count too much on erratic genius, But boldly strike and dare. If you have not gigantic power, There is much 3^ou can achieve ; The little deeds make up life's portion, And entitle us to live. Then drink deep the fount of knowledge, QUATRAIN. 39 From it true greatness springs ; Let not your soul be satisfied, With low and paltr}^ things. "A little learning is a dangerous thing," We think such is not the case; For Pope pretentious and pedantic, Was sometimes off his base. A man with little brains or education, May seem to critics small ; But I prefer the man of little learning. To the man of none at all. QUATRAIN— "Pons Assinorum. A bridge there is built, by mortals found, Neither above the earth nor beneath the ground Yet each plodding dull mortal over it passes : Tons assinorum — ''the bridge of asses." WAITING FOR MY CALL^A True Incident. I am waiting, I am longing. To hear the Master's call ; Old age is weary, lonely, dreary. And I would this life was all. I sit in patient waiting, 'till A few more days are o'er. When I, like a bird of passage, Will reach the other shore. Over four score years have found me I stand on life's decline ; Few and evil have been my years, The future life is mine. Do I shrink in contemplation. Of the change that's soon to be? No, I look with calm composure, To that land beyond the sea. Life is made of cares and trials ; But thoughts of that to come. Awaken all mv soul's emotion. 40 A MEMENTO. To reach my future home. But while here I stand yet waiting, With one foot in the grave, I calmly look unto that Savior, Who mighty is to save. A few more days of waiting, I shall hear the Master say: "Come up higher, it is better Than to dwell in house of clay." Where the gladsome days of summer. Shall be mine for evermore, When like the bird of passage, I Have reached the other shore. A MEIMENTO— Written in 1886 to Parry Duff— Long Since Dead. When hoary autumn cometh on, And winds sigh through each tree. And zephyrs cool blow o'er the lawn, Pray then remember me. When dreary winter frost and snow, Has settled on the lea, And cheering parlor fires glow, Pray then remember 'n>" When spring in gorgeous robes of green, Perfumes the land and sea ; Proud Flora reigns the matron queen. Pray then remember me. When comes the lovely summer day, And all is life and glee. When life's bright hopes feel no decay. Pray then remember me. And tho' ye o'er the world may wander, Its woes or pleasures see ; But when on the past ye ponder. Pray sometimes think of me. ANTE-BELLUM DAYS. 41 ANTE-BELLUM DAYS.— "Before the War." We met there and we worshipped ; We sang our songs of praise, In the unpretentious churches Of the ante-bellum days. Few were the sky-reaching steeples, Few the softly- cushioned pews ; Not so much gossiping by the people, Nor rehearsing of the news. We had no Miss Goulds or Vanderbilts, Dressed in ultra fashion's style, Who could spend five millions on a wedding, With a costly "Brown Stone" pile. Our antique dames cut no such figures, Nor walked in devious ways ; We had more sober calm demeanor. In the ante-bellum days. They were not wholly puritanic. Yet true piety was their's ; They were not ashamed of their religion. Or yet to kneel at prayers. Single-hearted, honest-minded. With but few deceitful ways ; The people then were not so wicked, In the ante-bellum days. Not the butterflies of fashion, Or worldlings filled the place ; There was simplicity of character, With old-fashioned traits of grace. We think rather kindly of those worthies, Who sang their hymns of praise, That pierced the very vaults of heaven. In those ante-bellum days. In those present costly temples, That are scattered far and wide. There is much less of true religion, And more of pomp and pride. 42 "SPEAK NOT ILL OF THE BRIDGE THAT CARRIES YOU OVE R.'' Than in those modest structures, Where were heard the chants of praise Of those long since gone to heaven, In the ante-bellum days. 'SPEAK NOT ILL OF THE BRIDGE THAT CARRIES YOU OVER." As a measure by which you are guided, In all your attempting to do, Speak not ill of the bridge that carries you o'er, Nor the man that carries you through. In this fast age when ingratitude reigns, And friends that were friends once before, Whom you labored to help at a former time, .Will frown as they pass by your door. Oh serpent vile, this base ingratitude ! For it most assuredly brings The stings of remorse; and just retribution. It carries along on its wings. I would that my patience could carry The slights and rebuffs of a friend, Who for some trifle imagined or real. Had caused our friendship to end. In our earlier days of acquaintance. Friendship true in our breast abode ; But something occurred I never knew what ; He turned as we passed on the road. Seasons had come — winters had passed, With their burdens of sorrow and care ; I called at his home, he spake not a word, For the angel of death had been there. Let us never speak rudely or ill of the man, Of whatever standing he be. Who saved us when we were tossed about, As a bark on an angry sea. The mines with their millions of gold, Do not hold in their locked embrace A jewel more precious than a true friend; No sun is more bright than his face. HOW DREADFULLY HARD TO BE POOR. 43 As ye value the face of a worthy friend, As ye treasure up silver and gold, The name of a friend keep in sacred trust. Of infinite value to hold, Friendship is the most costly gem. That was ever to mortals consigned ; Then let it reign in your heart and breast, And uppermost dwell in your mind. Then as I write and ponder and think, I am always obliged to adore The friend that carries me safely through. And the bridge that carries me o'er. If we our duty neglect or forgetful be, Let such ingratitude cease ; And when we have passed o'er life's troubled sea, We'll awake in friendship and peace. HOW DREADFULLY HARD TO BE POOR. Oh, how dreadfully hard to be poor. To be clad in poverty gaunt, To see as he glides past the door, The spectre-faced figure of want. To know that the place you call hom-e Is dreary, naked and bare ; That which sustains the body and soul, Is not found in abundance there. It dampens our ardor to know, In a world so fair as ours, Where the earth in a measure is blest With the nectar of sweet-smelling flowers. To know that the mountain of want. Doth up higher continually grow; And darken the sunny face of our globe, With a pall and mantle of woe. It may seem discouraging, sad indeed, That charity's helping hand, Can never reach all whO' are in need In some parts our fair and favored land. 44 HOW DREADFULLY HARD TO BE POOR The wintry storms and driving snow, Raging so wild, tempestuous shrill. Must penetrate the dreary abode, Where the inhabitants shiver still. It is the ceaseless plodding and toil. That here we constantly find ; And we see by the grist from poverty's mill, ^ It is forever on the "grind." j But such is the state of our sin-cursed earth. We know not when it will better be ; There is no spot where no penury reigns, On either the land or the sea. Why paint a picture so weird and dark, I And show up its gloomy side? • "But truth is mighty and must prevail," And we cannot this portrait hide. See the constant struggle for life and bread, The constant pushing aside, The scanty comforts in poverty's home, The final sinking beneath the tide. Oh, would that a poet's pen could paint, Tho' the prospect seemeth dim, A land where fulness always dwells. Dreadful poverty lank and thin. Shall forever be banished from the shore, ^ And a plentiful era come in ; A world renovated, restored to man. Shall the plaudits of angels win. In the mean time shall the millions here. Know nought but unceasing toil ; Chill penury reigns on earth's domains, Never-ending unrest and turmoil. It is wisdom's part, bow tO' heaven's decree. With a feeling of inward grace ; The injunction was given of ancient date, We must live by the sweat of our face. It is useless to stand in the mud knee-deep. And mourn our want of luck ; For food in plenty awaits the man, KEEP OUT OF DEBT. 45 Who girds jon the armor of pluck. For the windows of heaven are opened, To him who will help himself; Then, let none stand wringing his hands, Because of a lack of pelf. Tho' it is dreadfully hard to be poor, It is neither a shame or disgrace, If resolution flows in your veins And manliness beams in your face. Perhaps it is far better at last, When laid in repose on your bier, That deceitful riches bear you not down ; Friends water your grave with a tear. KEEP OUT OF DEBT. A letter dunning me for a debt. Has reached my place to-day. Which you can imagine without a doubt, I feel wholly unable to pay. These terrible duns disturbing repose. When a man is scarce of stamps, Are enough to give him a fit of blues, Convulsions or the cramps. I have some obligations due, That I know are right and just; But the bills incoming I cannot get; So I am obliged to trust. But will this appease the creditor Who refuses longer grace? The time is up, the amount is due ; I can get no cash on my face. These merciless, recurring duns, Must be received and met" Oh, the dreadful pangs and misery, Of always being in debt ! Some will buy everything they see. Whether goods or real estate; But 'when the day of settlement comes, Their "pile" is not very great. 46 EEVER8AL OF THE PICTURE. Beware of this burden that strikes you Like a rock impending overhead ; Too large a credit may bear you down, Its waves dashing over your head. As the ogre destroyed its victims of old, Unlimited credit will do to-day ; Then always measure the size of your purchase, By what you are able to pay. Three-fourths of the worries that trouble the soul, That keep up a constant fret, That bring you down to poverty's goal, Is caused by running in debt. Would you enjoy true independence. Then always pay as you go ; It will save you a world of trouble, Of infinite care and woe. Venturing in too far from the shore, Into the current of credit deep, Has caused many a poor man to mourn And many a woman to weep. Be cautious then of contracting a debt. You may be never able to pay ; For sure as the sun will rise and set. There cometh a reckoning day. REVERSAL OF THE PICTURE. A paper is laid on my table this eve. Its meaning and true intent : — A mortgage redeeiiied on my humble home. And I owe not mankind a cent. I now have a home I can call my own. Its walls are of pictures bare ; No creditor's duns can reach the spot. For I am the master there. The business world may run on credit. But stocks are not always at par; You will find in time your money has vanished And you wonder just where you are. THE WAR WITH CHILI. 47 To speculate in some honest way, Cannot be considered a mortal sin ; But beware of the crowd of villainous sharks, Who don't hesitate to "take you in." Lay aside for a rainy day that may come, Or a time that you have grown old, When you need the comforts of house and home, In a world of sympathies cold. Then labor and save and continually strive. Some portion of wealth to get ; Your credit maintain and not abuse. By keeping from getting in debt. THE WAR WITH CHILI. This "Paper War" was brought to a close by diplomacy in 1892, and ''Uncle Sam" remained master of the situation. The war with Chili is over. And each mighty iron-clad As she hoists her streaming pennant. In her "iron-sides" is glad. That she is not the victim Of a Chilian rifled ball, Or on the coast has not floundered, By an Equatorial squall. The war with Chili is over. But each tar is in a fit, And quite pugnacious is his temper. Because he cannot get a whit At the saucy small Republic Of the shoe-string-garter make. And the town of Valparaiso, Before his breakfast take. The war with Chili is over. But the diplomatic word Has once more to the world proven The pen mightier than the sword. 48 ^ "LOST." When "Uncle Sam's" great war-dogs, Unto her coast were bound, She said: "I beg your pardon, Uncle," And from her perch stepped down. War-ships are an excellent thing To possess in time of peace ; For nations that would devour you, Will in friendship much increase ; No more European conquests, Upon this Western sphere; For "Uncle Sam" is strong enough. To act as master here. "LOST." Away out on the desert bleak and bare, Where hundreds before had drossed, A man through the force of tempest and storm, Got off the track and was lost. Some time after a corpse was found, A stranger wholly unknown ; The monument to his memory raised, Was a rude and uncut stone. A ship had traversed the ocean deep. The gales came dashing high ; She struggled to breast the beating surf, That through her masts did fly. The struggle's unequal — she strikes a rock. Like a plaything she's tossed aside ; The dreadful hurricane drives her down, And she sinks in the ocean wide. A young man leaves his parental home ; Ambition rules righ in his breast ; He is going to make a mark in the world. And be of great power possessed. He delves down deep in the haunts of vice, And frequents the dens of sin ; So a useful life is ruined and lost. True manhood is wrecked within. "LOST. ' 49 We beheld a beautiful maiden fair, Whom it were a p'leasure to meet ; With a queenly step and a graceful air, She hurried along the street. Some dozen of years had passed her by, We read of a ruined name ; Of an angel that fell from virtue high, Down to the haunts of shame. The' wickedness rules almost everywhere, And living wrecks are found, Your character keep as the jewels bright, As diadems in your crown. Tho' demons may your pathway assail. Conquer, whatever the cost ; And never take up the dreadful wail ; The wail of the damned and lost. A man brilliant as a meteor high Sinks down through the upper air; All terrestrial things are dazzled. By the bright unusual glare. This towering bright eccentric genius, Down from the heaven is tossed ; Sinks straightway beneath times billows, And we weep because he is lost. The balmy, sweet, refreshing showers. That water field and parching plain, Refreshing earth, imparting vigor, - • Appear in another form again. Opportune hours passing unimproved, May be sacrificed at a cost ; And the fortunate tide in life's afifairs, May be irretrievably lost. What means this victorious army With banners bright displayed, Each with shining sword and helmet, And in marching suits arrayed? These have lived to make the world better; Earth and heaven admire this host ; Then live to make the world your debtor, Your reward can never be lost. 50 SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND DO NOT SQUEAL. SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND DO NOT SQUEAL. If in business you are beaten By some sbrewa and cunning art, By some wolf who wears a sheepskin, Wiho has not a human heart ; You may sufifelr inward toirments ; The fleecing badly feel ; Sihow not the world a face distorted. Shut your mouth and do not squeal. If some rascals overreach you, ,By a smooth, deceitful tongue; Has gained on you some advantage. By the act of doing wrong. Do not parade it in the papers ; It is far better to conceal ; The world won't show a sign of pity ; Shut your mouth and do not squeal. A man may be chock-fullpf knowledge, And sharp pointed as a pin ; But with all your fine conceitedhess. Some rogue may "take^ you in." Sharp experience may aid you In a dicker or fine deal ; But if the other chap outwits you, Shut your mouth and do not squeal. Steer clear the way of sharpers, Rope-pullers or dead-beats ; You stand no chance of getting even, Or adjusting balance sheets. To create a row or rumpus. Will no great damage heal ; If you suffer some indignity, Shut your mouth and do not squeal. DEATH OF THE POET, WALT WHITMAN. 51 DEATH OF THE POET, WALT WHITMAN. Notes from a lecture by his prophet, R. G. Ingersoll. The sen- tences in quotation are his. Introduction. To that mysterious boundless bourne, In some distant clime afar, Where there is no passage to return, ^ ' Where earth's Agnostics are, Fled Walt Whitman on that journey ,, To return here nevermore ; List to inspiring strains of music from The "Western wave-kissed shore." "He accepted theories, philosophies ; Absorbed all existing creeds" ; But the religion of the fathers. Did not meet his wants and needs. He owned no gods of any calibre, Old-fashioned, great or small ; In an Empyrean novel region, He reigned high above them all. "The nymphs of day" did not forsake him, Nor the "silent sisters" of the night, To the gloomy region of Tartarus, Or the sphere of vision bright. The "mysterious trumpeter" did blow The signal on his hoirn ; To the undiscovered land of nowhere. Was our author safely borne. Among "men milhners" and "tailors," And "venerets" he firmly trod. With an unconscious modest dignity. Of a modern "antique god." He preached the "gospel of humanity," A dogmatic doctrine fine, That suits dyspeptics, blue Agnostics, Existing only in the mind. Bright flowers of speech and sophistry, Word-painting, brilliant, rare ; Weird fancies of a pe:rverted brain, Standing on a pyramid of air. 52 FOOT-NOTES. Mohammets' coffin stood suspended, Mid way 'twixt heaven and earth ; But his religion has in it some reality, Of at least some real worth. Let mockers scorn the true religion. That is much higher than the hills. That inspires the soul with duty. And the mind with rapture fills. Oh, the infinite scope of nothingness, Beneath some strata of fine air, Where stands the grand Agnostic city On the stream of some nowhere. Oh, specious interpleader fine. Your art is not wholly new ; A century past we had learned swine. That knew, dear Bob, as much as you. You fail to despoil Moses of his honors ; Or obscure the sermon on the mount ; The law divine from Sinai given, Will to all future ages count. Let infidels boast and God blaspheme. And religion true despise. They never can injure the plan divine. By a fabric built on lies. So sinks down our learned Agnostic, The twin birother of the clod. Who is the architect of his own heaven. And the founder of his gpd. Foot-Notes. Queries for our arch-infidel to explain. What is meant by — ''A brother of the mountains"? By — ''An antique god"? By — "A philosophy and religion of his own and he was above all" ? By — "The laughing nymphs of day did not forsake him"? By — ''Silent sisters of the night"? By — "Western wave-kissed shore" ? By — "Millions will walk down the dark valley holding Walt Whitman by the hand" ? We leave the reader tO' determine for himself whether Plato, Socrates or St. Paul, ever uttered any such ineffable nonsense. AGE. 53 AGEr— A Simile. ''These papers were new yesterday but are old to-day." These papers are old and have seen their day, And we feel like throwing them hence away; They have been perused and hurriedly read, And the matter that's in them now is dead. Our appetites grow upon what we feed ; Our inward being reflects what we read; And the thoughts that do our purpose control, Beam in our eyes and arouse our soul. Come swift as the clouds on morning air, And emanate from the editor's chair. The world cares httle for the aged and old, But turns from them like a breeze that is cold ; There may be nothing repulsive in thei;r air, But there's little attraction for them anywhere, Tho' steady their walk and courteous their mien, The young in their company seldom are seen ; Call it attraction, repulsion or what you may, It is the way of the world in our civilized day. Neither education nor refinement brings. Any method to change this order of things. These papers a day ago, were bran new ; We scanned their pages in silent review ; Things that were good, we paused to note ; The rest we passed by as unworthy of thought. The chaf¥ from the wheat we did silently sift ; Note the march of events, as they onward did drift ; And knowledge thus gained is put safely aside ; So passes everyday life with its current and tide. So thus passes life in monotonous round ; One day we're elate, another cast down. An axiom, of course, you believe to be true ; Things look most attractive just when they are new; And the fancy that painted an object quite fair, May consider it now less worthy of care. It is useless to muirmur or fret at our state, Or disturb our repose at the rulings of fate ; But remain serene till counted at last, 54 THE UNKNOWN AUTHOR. As a newspaper number, a thing of the past. But Franklin and Milton are living to-day, In the wisdom they left, in the words they did say. Remember, my friend, a thought that's sublime, That age is more noble than youth in its prime ; And the head that is hoary, the mind that is sage, The heart that is young, that time cannot age, These are the diadems, wisdom's own crown, That shine most bright as ouir star sinks down. And the work we leave off while on pilgrimage here, We'll start up anew in that much brighter sphere. These random, stray thoughts we hope may assuage, The follies of youth and vices of age. THE UNKNOWN AUTHOR. The unknown author has a hard time, To a just recognition gain; For the rod of prejudice rules mankind. And true merit raps in vain. We do not believe that a man of genius. Can forever be kept down ; He will mount on wings bounding upward, And gain ambition's crown. Some critics with little sense or brain, May stand ready to condemn ; But the intellectual soaring eagle. May cast a frown on them. Some author of the hair-brained rank, May coin some foolish phrase ; Yet ten thousand asses utter it. And parade it in their plays. The myriad tons of silly things, Copied often and said, Are revamped, reclothed and printed. And before the woirld spread ; And nauseoiisness itself is pure. Compared with the poisoned stuff. That passes current for literature ; More than a "quantum suf." THE UNKNOWN AUTHOR. 55 The man hmlt of brass and pomp and tinsel, May stand high on dress parade ; But by men who work in quiet, Are true science volumes made. And the modesty of true merit, May remain for a time obscure ; The rays of the sun beneath the horizon, Cannot very long endure. Then, when prosperity has crowned him, He is lauded to the skies ; The gaping throngs stand ready, To behold the heroes' eyes. There is no need to seek the plaudits Of the vast unthinking crowd, Who at the antics of the automaton, Are made to cackle loud. We need not seek the approbation Of the motley, vulgar throng. Whose approval gives no credit, Whose censure does no wrong. Wihile no author is infallible. We can always point with pride. To the unobtrusive, modest author. Who throws vanitv aside. Then let it be our lot of fortune. To be recognized or known. Or spend our days among the humble. In some suburban town. Be it ours to climb no pinnacle of fame. From whose cold and dizzy height, Men have fallen as wandering meteors. Into an abysmal night. We would not have an ounce of credit, For what we cannot do ; Nor would we cast a single demerit, On the author of genius true. KEEP GOOD COMPANY. KEEP GOOD COMPANY. Keep good company, my young friend There is nought on earth more sure, Than that final retribution. Will o'ertake the evil-doer. You may assunle the garb of decency, In open day your virtues flout; But don't forget the good old saying *'Your sins will find you out." Human beings can be no better, Than the company they keep ; For there leads a road to the pit-falls. Where destruction's hidden deep. Avoid the haunts of iniquity, That inevitably leads To the plotting and committing Of vile outrageous deeds. Would you succeed and be somebody, In this hustling world of ours? Would you avoid the noxious serpents. Concealed beneath the flowers? Would you ever reach that pedestal, From which true glory mounts, That sublime and exalted station. Where the wand of power counts? Would you finally reach the eminence. The seat of high renown? Good company will keep you there. But bad will drag you down. THE GOSPEL OF HOW TO GET THERE. "That there is many a slip, Betwixt the cup and the lip," Is a saying quite old I declare; But the gospel I preach. And the doctrine I teach, Is the gospel of how to get there. THE GOSPEL OF HOW TO GET THERE. 57 It is the rulings of fate That sometimes the great, May sink in the slough of despair ; But the strong iron will. That is invincible still, Will seldom fail to get there. Seize the forelock of time, And on-upward climb, You will find it indeed very rare, That the men who pursue Definite objects in view, Seldom fail in their plans to get there. We admire the brave man WhO' doth firmly stand, Tho' weather be threatening or fair ; The right moment to seize, Furling his sails to the breeze. He forms his plans to get there. But that poor lazy soul With the speed of a mole, Seeming for nothing to care. Whom no one will cherish. Though he die or he perish, May fail in his course to get there. Have a purpose steadfast, And hold it in your clasp, And fortune, you onward may bear ; If the goals reached by you, You must keep this in view ; If you ever expect to get there. But what seemeth the use To give advice or abuse ; The eagle that sails in the air. Makes the elements bend In the course he doth trend. In pursuing his way to get there. The slow pacing snail, Is the man who will fail, Who has neither ambition or care; 58 THE GIANT'S STRUGGLE. He is but a clam, In the world's great jam', He never expects to get there. Now this gospel, I trow. As you very well know, Is the text that is preached everywhere ; And the man who' will win Gold or silver or tin. Must make it a point to get there. Honor, fortune or fame, Does not rest in a name ; To give further advice I forbear; For humanity's sake, This short sermon now take In the gospel of how to get there. THE GIANT'S STRUGGLE. The Titans, great and mighty giants • With old Saturn did contend. The sovereignty of the heavens ; But were defeated in the end. So to-day giant forces are contending; There is a perpetual war Whether upright men shall rule us, Or unjust our peace shall mar. Coelus and Terra are still arrayed in battl, With entrenchments on each line ; Hosts are enlisting, equipping, drilling, And in heated combats join. So fiercely wages the continual struggle. For position, place and power; Some are rising — some are falling, With every passing hour. But in life's continued struggle. There are marching groups ahead, With hands outstretched and imploring The bosses for dailv bread. QUATRAIN. 59 Some resting beneath misfortune's cloud, Seem woe-begone and distressed ; While others in the sunshine of prosperity, Seem more than ordinary blessed. To what evil cause can we attribute, Life's myriad perplexing ills, That with hunger, grief and suflfering, The lot of unhappy mortals fills? Is it the vice we have inherited, Which we choose to make our own? This may be one of the leading causes, But not responsible alone. The greatest code of pure philosophy, To mortal men, e'er taught. The most beneficent method given, Which peace on earth, good will has brought, Is that taught by the worthy Master, To the tribe of fallen men : "To do to others as you would that They should do to you again." Notes. — "Titan," son of Coelus and Terra, elder brother of Saturn, and father of a race of giants. ''Saturn," — Son of Coelus and Terra, and father of Jupiter, but was banished from the throne of heaven by his son. ''Coelus," — The heaven ; "Terra," — The earth ; The Golden Rule. — The grandest rule ever promulgated for the benefit of man- kind. QUATRAIN— The Golden Law. Lycurgus and Moses, both made good laws. But each had defects, and inherent flaws ; But it remained for the Master to make a rule. Transcending any of ancient or modern school. GOD BLESS THE BOYS. God bless th^ boys and give them wisdom For upon them will devolve ]\Iany hard and knotty problems, Which our age has yet to solve. 60 GOD BLESS THE BOYS. May they grasp the situation With a determination strong, So that the nation's ills distracting, Shall be rectified ere long. Older minds may grow quiescent, And older hands may fail; But youth's quick discerning spirit, Must finally prevail. I, Who shall stem the surging tide of evil? i Who regain the advantage lost? ! It will be done by youthful forces, Trained, regardless of the cost. Who shall hold the reins of power With beneficent mild sway, [;, : To guard the ship of State from danger, That threatening is to-day? It will be held by youthful warriors. Of whom the world knows nought ; Who have genius, brains and action, Who have innate power and thought. God bless our boys and guide them, For very soon into their hand, Will fall the keeping and preserving The destinies of our land. Who are equal to the mighty tasks That very early may arise? We, the future leave with providence, And entrust it to the boys. The world's renowned, undying warriors, Who accomplished wonders here, Have their entrance and their exit. And their time to disappear. The true lesson taught in boyhood. Will in riper years mature ; Then in the teachings of the present, May we lay foundations sure. The time is ever present with us, When we true Statesmen need. Who are not given over to venality. Corruption rank or greed. GOLDEN RULE FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. 61 And in the history of diplomacy, We want men true and tried, Who hold our "Nation first and foremost;" In its institutions take pride. God bless the boys and guard them, Is our fervent, ardent prayer; Then shall peace and justice reign; Be triumphant everywhere. History's teachings are instructive; Youthful moments well employ; For the Nation's future ruler, Is now the studious boy. There is a prospect grand before you, And I would this maxim teach : That being an American citizen, You may the highest honors reach. If the name ''Roman Citizen" was a passport, That came down to later time, How much greater is the American, Than the Roman in his prime. GOLDEN RULE FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. We like to see the studious boy Who minds the ''Golden Rule," Who is a regular attendant Upon the Sabbath School. So sure as truth is eternal, If he carries out this plan, He will be stocked with useful knowledge, A good and useful man. We like to see the buoyant girl With fresh and ruddy looks, Who keeps well in mind her lessons, And reads good useful books. Then will she have a mental store-house. Of knowledge good and pure, That makes and molds her character, And keeps her steps secure. ''SOMEBODY LEFT IN THE COLD " She may not be a president's wife, Reside in Paris or Rome ; She can lead a much happier life, Adorning her humble home. If virtue's ways are pleasantness, And all her paths are peace, The blessings of a learned mind. Will all your joys increase. Of all the fields of culture here. Will the close observer find, That which yields the purest pleasure. Is the culture of the mind. Then treasure up youth's golden lessons. In your mind a precious store ; ' And give the ''Golden Rule" pre-eminence, All other rules before. 'SOMEBODY LEFT IN THE COLD.' It is the oft-told story repeated, A tale that never grows old; It is that o'f somebody slighted. Of somebody left in the cold. Of somebody jostled along, 'Till others took their place ; Who were left in their track despondent, While others won the race. My story is as old as Adam, Grown heavy with frost of years ; It is sprinkled with grains of sadness. And watered with streaming tears. Yet along the succeeding ages, The same old story is told; How the feelings are rent by failure. How somebody's left in the cold. Like the turbulent waves of the ocean. That doth constantly pour The froth and foam of their raging Upon the surf-beaten shore, ONE MINUTE LATE. So the crowds in tumult commotion, Are in ever-hurrying chase; While some gain their destination, Others are lost in the race. By fame or fortune up-drifted. The beggar, a prince appears ; By some strange unaccountable fate. Reversed are the orders of years. Youth has grown old prematurely; Renewed is the life of the old; Some leap into standing prominence. While others are left in the cold. Thus age upon age succeedeth; There still is the sigh and the moan ; Like the stir of the turbulent ocean, Are heard from afar and known. While some stand on high Olympus, We, looking backward, behold Others that fail to reach the summit,- Somebody left in the cold. The monarch upon his shaky throne. May be haunted by fear and dread ; Uneasy he wears the jeweled crown. Uneasy may rest his head. Those of humbler rank and station, May solider comforts behold ; We have this cheering consolation, That we are not left in the cold. 63 ONE MINUTE LATE. The engineer slept in his cozy cab ; He pulled out one minute late ; The passengers knew not the dangers passed. In escaping a horrible fate. An engine behind with rushing speed. Came puffing and steaming fast; But our engineer passed with his steed, On a switch — so danger was past. 64 ONE MINU'rE LATE. There was no crash or total wreck, Nor dozens of crippled men, As might have been caused by one minute late, And dire the consequence been. The engineer sighed and grew quite pale. At the thought of what had occurred ; But the reporters told no sickening tale, Nor was the community stirred. The picket stood at his weary post, Exposed to the enemy's lead; Pacing along his lonely beat. Yet never a word he said ; A minute he just relaxed his watch. When the enemy's sentinel near, Seizes him like a bird of prey. And he stands a prisoner here. The ambushed enemy dashes ahead. The result is a panic and fright; A rushing to arms and beating of drums. Thus arousing the demons of night. It was only a moment the sentinel slept ; Dreadful might have been the cost ; The cause of the nation for which he fought. Might have been irretrievably lost. The prisoner paced in his iron cell. With gloomy forebodings of dread ; That by noon on the coming morn, He would be numbered with the dead. Mid priests and deputies forth he marched. The criminals' crime to expiate ; The trap is sprung; the criminal fell; The reprieve came a minute too late. There was rejoicing and mirth in festal halls. And music's symphonious sound ; The bride and groom in costly attire, - Ready to be wedded were found. An order was issued to close the doors. Tightly bolt the massive gate ; When, alas, an invited guest appears. But just a minute too late. TOO MANY CREEDS. 65 The rolling universe dares not stop For a minute's pause on its course. Without causing a clash of worlds, Ruining gravitation's force. Oh, who can compute the fearful cost, Now, compute it, ye who may ; A life, a nation, a crown may be lost, By only one minute's delay. TOO MANY CREEDS. The world is cursed with too many creeds, Of unnumbered titles, forms and breeds; From earliest dawn of recorded time, Of each successive age, of every clime, Men, in their madness or their zeal, For their fellow beings woe or weal, Have constructed dogmas new and rare; Some thick as mud, some thin as air, Hard collars on men's necks to wear, Here is conscience bound with clanking chains, That tear the soul and wreck the brains. As old satan down from heaven was cast, So dissenting opinions still will last; Thus heaped on piles are creeds immense, Without much truth or common sense. Piled up they stand like mountains high, Obscuring heaven and earth, sea and sky, In this our brilliant inquiring age, Men may construct some maxims sage ; But the search-light of truth will put to route. The drivel that fools write about. New prophets come with mystic tread, Resuscitate fables centuries dead; They are clad in new attire once more. And made to read as sacred lore; Thus prophets false and prophets true. Pass by in a panoramic view. Religious bickerings and tumults spread; The fires of the inquisition are not dead. Our self-righteous Pharisee still finds a place. With his empty forms, in every race. A CONSUMMATE WRETCH. Anathemas vile now fail to harm ; "Grand Councils" cause no one alarm; Some skeptic doctor plainly sees, He cannot swallow the "decrees." Close observation, reading, thought, Great changes to his mind has brought; Then, immediately in press and speech. He, his new-found theories will teach. Is he right or wrong? Who shall decide? The right of thinking can't be denied. But he who simplifies, men's creeds. Deserves some recognition for his deeds; What with new ceremonials, fasts and feasts Sensational preachers, foolish priests. Men have been held in galling chains, 'Till scarce a speck of liberty remains. With ecclesiastic oppression bowed. Men have forsworn their heavy load. Oh, for a power to teach mankind, A way to free the imprisoned mind. What the world to-day doth stand in need, Is a simple faith, more simple creed, Divested of men's inventions rude. With parapharnalia worse than crude. On which God's creatures all can stand, A platform safe for fallen man ; A creed that vivifies the soul. That makes the sin-sick mortal whole ; A creed so simple, pure and broad, Opening the way to heaven and God. A CONSUMMATE WRETCH. He was the most consummate wretch, That drew the breath of life ; A creature lived of hope forlorn, Whom he designated wife. A minister grim, of deceptive mien — Could eloquently preach ; But of his domestic cussedness. He was not wont to teach. A CONSUMMATE WRETCH. 67 A temper passionate and fierce, Him quite a demon made; He drew his wife — as home diversion, Across the balustrade. He struck her, kicked, abused her, This pious imp of hell; He sometimes dragged her down the stairs, And shoved her towards the well. He preached of love to all mankind, — At home the servant maid Received his most polite attentions ; The rest may not be said. He whipped the devil 'round the stump, This base immoral fraud ; He taught the "Moral Law" in church, At home dishonored God. He was an outward Gospel man — Was often heard to say, "The day my wife is dead and buried. Will be my happiest day." Such brutal conduct drew to a close ; His mal-treated wife did hie To take an ounce of laudanum, And laid her down to die. Emetics given in proper time, Her unhappy life did save; She fled from this reverant sinner, As a victim from the grave. Vile deeds like this won't hidden lie, They to the world are known ; Expulsion, the fate of the "clergyman ;" And the devil gets his own. He preached of "temperance and righteousness," Of judgment yet to come ; Meanwhile he swore like any sinner, Drank worse than any "bum," We speak not irreverently of the "cloth;" And hope there are but few^ Who will assume the gab of the Master, While another thing they do. 68 ZERO WEATHER. Oh, that we had an outward sign To recognize the beast, Who works the racket of religion. When his heart don't feel the least. Let all such hypocrites be branded, Who are nought but a disgrace ; Or may they take a step like Judas. And descend to their own place. ZERO WEIATHER. When it reaches zero and down below. Oh, the stinging frost and the biting snow ; When the north wind blows, his deadly breath, Is the harbinger of destruction and death. For old Boreas the god of the north. In his stern grandeur stalketh forth; His geometrical figures again, We see engraved on the window pane. We read of an age when nature's face Was locked in chains, an icy embrace; When King Boreas had sole control, The equator being as cold as the pole. And mountains of ice piled up on high. Having ponderous summits, pierced the sky. The sun in the firmament cold and pale. Lacked warmth sufficient to prevail ; A frigid land and a frigid stream ; Dreadful desolation reigned supreme. What goes on there nobody knows. In this desolate region of polar snows ; This unexplored and unknown land. Human endurance cannot stand. If any waves reach this desolate strand. They are changed to ice by a magic hand ; Here the mercury freezes and winter reigns, None dare to dispute its dread domains ; The volcanic stream will in a moment freeze. At the wrathful fury of the polar breeze. THE FOUNT OF YOUTH. 69 No triumph of genius, science or art, Can do much to redeem this frozen part Of the globe, or its terrors subdue, With anything like success in view. Tho' he makes some elements own his skill. The impervious north will not own his will. But the youthful hero may now be born, Who shall the ice-king's castle storm; Having an aerial car under control. May steer his ship right to the pole. Shall he e'er come back — the doubt remains? For congelation may seize his veins. THE FOUNT OF YOUTH. Could men but find that fabled fountain Which would to them restore Eternal youth, perpetual beauty, And vigor evermore, With what unremitting zeal and fondness, Would they seek its chrystal tide; Sip its healing-purifying waters. And disport this fount beside. Could mankind wretched and hoary, Know that they still could live. Making this earth a paradise of glory, , Yielding its ripest joys to give. So that misery's dreadful ravages, That so virulently rage, Might give way to health perpetual, And men renew their age ; And earth to its primeval condition, Unsullied might once more return ; And pangs and wailings cease forever: In bliss, man would cease to mourn. For youth returned with innocence. The ceasing of all crime, Must be characteristic of this era, Of this golden age of time. 70 'THE GREAT DIVIDE." Shall we seek the vale of Tempe, Some undiscovered bourne, Or some island in the tropics, Where time's dial may return? Where life-giving breeze refreshing, Erase the marks of time ; And a thousand years duration, Shall find man in his prime. It is a harbored vain delusion, A quite absorbing theme; For mankind has ne'er abandoned, This youth's renewing scheme. With all the wisdom of the ages. We may, accept this truth : The spring of eternal wisdom. Is the fount of life and youth. "THE, GREAT DIVIDE"— An Indian Complaint. The great divide : — The mountain summit which is siipposed to separate this world from that which is to come. When at last I stand on the great divide, Hear the eagle's piercing note. Hear the cataract's sound by the mountains side, And the howl of the wild coyote. My heart grows feeble, my eyes grow dim ; And weariness seizes my hand ; I think of the bufifalo and the deer. In the happy hunting land. I shall take by bow and arrow along, And lay them down by my side; Then shall I repeat my great war song. When crossing the great divide. My poor old dog and my trusty gun, That I took along in the race, I cannot agree to leave them behind. When I renew my sportive chase. My dear papooses have all grown up. And now they pursue the foe ; The dear old squaw that was once my wife. MODERN JUSTICE, OR INJUSTICE. Has left me some years ago. And now they shall dig me a trench quite deep, And place me down by her side ; When at last we awaken from sleep, We'll meet on the great divide. The white man came and he took our land; He drove us still farther away, 'Till there's hardly a spot we can call our own, In the great "Wild West" today. But the "Great Good Spirit" will take his child. In delightful hills to abide ; In a country by white men undefiled, Just across the great divide. My warriors once were a mighty band Of noble trusted braves ; 'Tis sad to think we owned this land, Yet treated are as slaves. But our "Manitou" is great and good ; We shall with him abide; And then repeat our great "Sun dance," When we cross the great divide. In that great "Good Spirit" in whom I trust, I confide in my last repose; No cause than' ours has been more just. But I bid good-bye to my foes, But when on the mount of death I stand. In this faith and hope I abide ; That I'll meet my friends in the hunting land, Just across the great divide. MODERN JUSTICE, OR INJUSTICE. Acken, a veteran soldier was imprisoned three and one-half months in the Kittanning jail for stealing nine cents worth of coal. Oh, Justice ! it is a burning shame What crimes are committed in thy name. How the poor man suffers from the cause Of inflicting upon him unequal laws ; And learned judges and juries immense. 72 MODERN JUSTICE, OR INJUSTICE. Are oft swayed more by money than common sense. He, poor freezing man, in his misery, stole Nine cents worth corporation coal. His wife had died, his health was poor, And poverty's pangs he had to endure ; He suffers arrest — 'tis a shame to tell, He is made to share a prisoner's cell. Suffering in silence four months long; For the heavy hand of the law is strong. His children are taken and scattered abroad; A parody this on the justice of God. This poor old prisoner bears the scars Of hard-fought battles in former wars. Hear the judge this prisoner sad, accost: "Ten days more in jail and all the cost." Poor veteran soldier ! you now must feel Soulless corporation's iron heel. Home has been broken, and children gone; A soul crushed out, imprisoned, alone. Who can thy pangs of agony bear? Yet there is a God who will hear thy prayer. We would not be understood to connive Or condone those who by stealing thrive ; But as judicial ermine and red tape go, Each unfortunate wretch must get a blow. That pompous aristocrat rich as a Jew. Has stolen thousands of dollars of money, too ; But he stands uncondemned, we see to-day. How money will justice scales outweigh. He ranks with the "four-hundred," or upper ten, An example of the most successful men. Shall the cry of God's poor be heard in vain? Temper mercy with justice we ask again. Shall this undeserved sentence remain? Oh, justice! what crimes are done in thy name. "Fiat justitia, ruat coelum," we loudly call : Meaning, "Let justice be done, tho' the heavens fall.' THE BLESSINGS OF HOME. 73 THE! BLESSINGS OF HOME. "Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur," "Times are changed, and we are changed." Is there a place of all others the best, Where free from care the weary may rest. To which may the wanderer come ; Tho' it be a lone and secluded spot, Its memories dear cannot be forgot; Thank God for the blessings of home. Is there above others a holier shrine. Where the human approaches the nearly divine, To which we in memory turn. To that somewhat lonely, but familiar spot, Where Providence first cast our earthly lot, Whose incense continues to burn. Is fond recollection now saddened by thought? Are the scenes of spring-time nearly forgot? Ah, no ; we can fondly retrace The cottage tho' mean, for years it had stood, By a silver pure spring, by the edge of a wood. And we felt that a home was this place. "Tempora mutantur !" how changed is the scene When my mind wanders back to the days that have been, When children encircled the hearth, Who have wandered away in the world alone. Who to each other as strangers have grown ; But such are the changes on earth. In times of reflection how fondly we cling To the past, the dead past, and the joys it did bring; Yes, father and mother were there, An unbroken circle, a family band ; We hope once more in their presence to stand, And look in their faces so fair. Is there a spot that is tranquil complete. The essence of bliss and companionship sweet. That is anchored by family ties ; Sweet peace and love and affection dwelt there. Contentment and hope their blessings to share; Now this is the home that we prize. 74 A WRECK. Tho' life be laden with burden of years ; We see the past thro' a vista of tears ; The pilgrim in vision will come, To the home of his youth, thrice hallowed spot ; Amidst all life's changes cannot be forgot ; Thank God for the blessings of home. As we pass thro' this world, let no speck of shame Rest as a blot on our parents' good name ; Be content with things as they come ; Let no cause for tears of repentance be shed' Nor ever dishonor your parent's gray head ; Thank God for the blessings of home. A WREiCK. A wreck at all times is a pitiful sight : A mast of the vessel appears, Showing where the ill-fated craft had sunk. Where her crew have been sleeping for years, behold that wreck in a human form ; Some intelligence still you may trace ; But beaten and buffeted by the storm. And sunk to the depths of disgrace. Defaced is the image to him once given, In pollution of sin defiled ; Now blasted are his hopes of heaven, - In dissipation and pleasures wild. You may be built courageous and strong, Just as the staunchest and strongest ship ; Still not be able to weather some storm, That crosses your path in your trip. Physical manhood, vigor and power. That on you once luster shed, You have surrendered in an evil hour; Now you're a walking skeleton — dead. "An epitome of life's experience," May be thus in a few words run : A chapter of melanchol}^ ending; A life by wickedness,, undone. Can we wrap the mantle of charity Over character ruined and lost? AVhen sold are honor and integrity, PLEASANT THINGS. 76 Who can compute the fearful cost? Place all the transient pleasures of the world, On a true unvarying scale ; Thebt to elevate the soul immortal, Will most lamentably fail. An astronomer directs his telescope Across the disc of the heavens blue ; A radiant planet before unknown. Leaped across the professor's view. In the lapse of time had passed many years, In the age of this starry host; But when he tried to find it again, Retreating in space it was lost. The star of hope in the morning hour Sheds no illuminating ray, On the sunken ship down fathoms deep. That unluckily went astray. Of all the heart-rending shipwrecks, Known, sunken in part or whole. Is the human figment — totally ruined ; The wreck of the human soul. PLEASANT THINGS. Banish away your sad repining, Your growling, fretting, whining, And the evil that it brings ; A cheerful mind is always best,, A welcome and delightful guest ; We speak of pleasant things. There may be endless causes great, To ruffle, grind and irritate, And needless troubles give ; Control your temper, keep serene ; Try to observe the "golden mean ;" And thus in comfort live. A cheerful heart's a continual feast, Let yours and mine be this at least, A fount where kindness flows ; 76 HAWAII: CHIEF CITY— HONOLULU. We thus may banish useless strife, Enjoy, prolong and comfort life ; And banish half its woes. A pleasant and contented mind, , The truest riches that I find, ^ Whose fires are fed on love; ]• Not all the floods of earth can drown ; It steady burns the whole year round. Whose incense flies above. Let our domiciles be kept ablaze With love, content and peace always, And earth won't seem so sad ; For these pursued, their victories bring, A refreshing and perennial spring, ^ Whose waters make you glad. And now, dear friend, observe this way. Keep temper, bound the live-long day ; For joy eternal springs In every soul, and human breast, Of love and joy and peace possessed ; We speak of pleasant things. HAWAII: CHIEF CITY— HONOLULU. Oh tropical Honolulu, We need your coffee, rice ; Step into Uncle Sam's dominions. And he will treat you nice. You may not need, his overcoats, His whiskey or his ham ; While nature grows you all you need, You can fatten on your yam. Oh, tropical Honolulu, Lone city of the sea ; "Uncle Samuel" likes a "Sandwich," And may not object to thee. You need his fatherly protection, And no barbaric queen. Whom Cleveland tried to place in power ; About whom there's nothing mean. THE CHAPLAIN'S PRAYER. 77 From San Francisco's g-olden gate, To Honoluhi's shore, Thro' the grand Pacific Ocean, Two thousand miles or more, Yet Uncle Sam is truly able. With his giant iron-sides, To give you a government stable. And other boons besides. We dream not of universal empire; Since your wish is to be free. We can in a magnanimous spirit, Adopt a child like thee. Oh, sea-bound Sandwich Islands. Tho' neither large nor great. You'll soon form part of the dominion, . Of our Uncle Sam's estate. The effete European systems, Can here be tried no more ; Nor trumping up fraudulent claims, Upon Columbia's shore. The feudal times of lords and barons, Cannot be repeated here ; For rotten European systems, Must some day disappear. Note — This Island now is a part of our dominion. THE CHAPLAIN'S PRAYER. Extract from the 'Tittsburg Times." The Chaplain of the House of Representatives of Penn'a., eloquently prayed — "That after the struggles of this life are all over, the mem- bers may all go to a land where there is no winter." The chaplain eloquently prayed, That the members all may go, ■ When life's struggles are all over, To a land where storms don't blow, Where there is no harassing winter. Where icebergs cannot flow, Fanned by mild ethereal breezes, Where they don't shovel snow. 78 DEFEATED. Where the sunbeams play and linger, Where golden linnets sing, Where a never-ending summer. Is but perpetual spring: Where the people live and flourish, And never have a cause To complain or fret or murmur. At bad opj)ressive laws. That in some fantastic island, Those legislators rest, In some distant far Elysium, Some island of the blest. Where the mild winds of the tropics, In refreshing currents blow. Imparting life and health and vigor. Where they don't shovel snow. For this zealous wish, forgive us ; It would be a lasting boon, If half those so-called legislators. Were transported to the moon. While living an unmitigated nuisance ; They will more than likely go To that uncongenial climate, Where they don't shovel snow. DEFEATED. Vox populi, vox dei : — ''The voice of the people, the voice of God." In contesting a prize how hard to be beat, To suffer the lashings that come from defeat ; When by some combination we are overthrown. We pause and reflect to know how it was done; While fits of despondency knock at our heart, To know that some other has led in the start ; To know that we fought every inch of the ground. Yet our rival succeeded in turning us down. Whether our fault or misfortune we cannot know ; We may have made an implacable foe. Who hesitates not our course to impede, DEFEATED. 79 And has his revenge in our hour of need. False friends are turned to secret foes ; They give us the hand-shake ; in secret oppose ; They lavish courtesy on us ; their tongues are glib, While they plunge their dagger under our rib. In the great whirligig of ups and downs, The people a nobody sometimes crowns ; True excellence and worth, no doubt, Are put to an ignominious route. The unreasoning multitudes clamor loud ; Raise to power the vilest man in the crowd ; Thus swayed by passion or prejudice, Men seldom reason in matters like this. Thus while some win, others must lose, And reach not the point their hearts did choose ; But neverthless defeat brings pain ; Some never have heart to run again. Countless numbers lie low to-ray, Beneath the mound of crumbling clay. Who labored to win, yet they were beat, And sunk down to the grave because of defeat. We need not mention the case of Clay, Who was the most prominent man of his day ; Nor that of Greely who died full soon. The founder great of the New York Tribune. Nor need we repeat to the world again, The unsuccessful canvass of Blaine; We need not startle the world when we state, Death seeks the unsuccessful candidate. Men of superior worth do not always win. While the crowd may push a subaltern in ; And we sometimes doubt the truth of the cry, That rings abroad: ''Vox populi, vox dei." But be this as it may, in each nation's trend, Things will rectify themselves in the end ; If in a noble cause we are forced to retreat. No dishonor is ours when we meet defeat. SPEECH, ''COPIA VERBORUM." Quatrain — A Noble cause. The noblest cause may be a moment set back; But it can never be wholly defeated, While the ternal Jehovah reigns supreme. On the throne of the universe seated. SPEECH, "COPIA VERBORUM"— Fluency of Speech. Have you ever thought of the power of speech, That attribute of the soul? When reason and judgment sit supreme, How great is its control ! The glowing fires that inward burn. Will mould or melt the heart ; Will animate the breast of stone. Make life and being start. Of all the arts by heaven bestowed, Making human logic beam. The most excellent gift of eloquence, Remains the one supreme. It is the mighty engine of power. That vividly portrays The springs of learning, genius, art, In thousand different ways. In simple strains the bard may write, Desiring much to please; May sing of nature in all her moods, But contemptible are these, When all the fires of living thought. In radiant glories burn ; When earth doth almost pause to hear, Ecstatic in its turn. Grant me at least some of the power, By Cicero displayed, That living souls may feel the touch, And stony hearts be made To beat, pulsate and feel the thrill Of quickened true desire ; Be elevated to the mount of Heaven's most sacred fire. THE DEFEAT OF XERXES. 81 Ten thousand instruments seem weak ; Art as yet cannot rejoice, In producing any instrument — Excel the human voice. Oh voice more potent than all wonders, That our globe can e'er display ! In the still small voice, or Sinai's thunders, Thou hast a potent sway. Earth's instruments in one acclaim, May make a chorus loud ; But at the magic of the human voice, The hardest heart is bowed. When earth's accounting day shall come, And men shall cease to preach, The armies of the universe shall still, Retain the powers of speech. THE DEFEAT OF XERXES. Xerxes was a great Persian monarch who flourished about 485 B. C. We read in annals of ancient story, That over two thousand years ago, The Persian monarchy in all its glory. Before attempting Greece to overthrow. The mighty monarch Xerxes had constructed A strong fleet of three thousand sail. Comprising a Mediterranean squadron, That he thought no power on earth could quail. The Hellespont was hurriedly bridged over; Boat lashed to boat, a bridge did form A pathway for the millions of his soldiers, Who were commanded the Grecian works to storm. But vain and presumptuous monarch. Puffed up with vain glory, pomp and pride ; The bridge of boats just recently constructed, Were dashed to pieces by the fury of the tide. The engineers who had this bridge constructed, He did before his august presence bring: Ordered them one and all to be beheaded. THE DEFEAT OF XEKXES. To appease the wrath of this angry King. The sea, he scourged with thongs and fetters, Which into the yawning waves were thrown. To show the sea, he was its master ; That the waves must his influence own. The Spartan King Leonidas had collected A small army which he ordered hence. To guard the pass Thermopylae, Then standing, make a strong defense. Heroic Spartan's in their glory stood ; They, against Xerxes' millions made A phalanx of unyielding strength, Until by traitors vile betrayed. The Persian fleet around Sunium sailed ; On slopes of Mount Aegaloes a throne This presumptuous Xerxes had erected. To command the greatest armies ever known. Old Sol, all day long did light the combat ; The Spartans, their enemy did defeat ; When lo, at eve, the Grecians conquered. Dispersing this mighty Persian fleet. A wreck of more magnificent sail, The world has never since beheld ; The beaten hosts of Xerxes back returned. Overwhelmed on old Plataea's field. The Grecian arms now restored to power. At once set numerous islands free ; While Xerxes was beat, dismayed, disgraced. The victorious Grecians ruled the sea. Back to the Hellespont he, his scattered forces. Marched in a quite tumultuous train ; But the storm King of those angry waters, Destroyed the bridge that had built again. This haughty monarch had proposed his plans. But his millions, by no means, could prevail ; His retreating army miserably perished, And so did all his plans of conquest fail. MORNING CALL-. 83 MORNING CALLS. Dedicated to those women who have no time to spend in their own homes. The wind may blow, come storm or snow, Come fearful angry squalls ; , This lady meek, of whom I speak, Is making her morning calls. She's always in a hurry, a sort of a flurry, Yet, she somehow continues to wait; Her closing speech, she never can reach, Till away outside of the gate. She goes to town to see Mrs. Brown, To whom she unfolds her tale ; Now she is found to be fully wound. So her speech can never fail. At the hour of ten, this cackling hen, Continues to vent her noise; The maid slinks away in dread dismay, When she reaches out for the boys. The hour of noon has come too soon, For like a continued story, She never stops prates of balls and ''hops," Till she seems in a blaze of glory. The hour of two has come, it is true, Her tongue still keeps up a batter; Till the kitchen maid, scratches her head. And inquires what is the matter. The hour of four has come once more ; Her baby jumps and squalls ; "Be quiet dear, your ma is not here. She is making morning calls." There, the good man comes, on his bucket drums ; The clock strikes the hour of six; That the stove is cold, you need not be told;, Our lady's in a good-sized fix. 84 QUATRAINS. The moral is clear to all who may hear, As plain as the nose on your face ; That the woman whose tongue is always strung, Will assuredly fall from grace. QUAlTR'AINS— On Mlisic. The world had sat in deep darkness for ages ; 'Twas midnight on Bethlehem's plain, When music broke forth from the heavenly choir; All nations have sung the refrain. What is that enrapturing music Enchanting to the ears? Mellifluous as the breath of heaven, The music of the spheres. , Orpheus took his harp in his hand, Down to the gloomy shades ; His music soothed the hadean king, Where no living man invades. You made me happy with your music. The King of Orpheus said : "Take back to earth your Eurydike," Who had from the living fled. Hear ye that child in his gleesome prattle, In beauty of innocence mild ; Sweet as the chorus of angel voices, The laughter and mirth of the child. A poor needy one came over my way; I shared of my pittance a part ; His thanks touched a chord in my soul. Whose music still chimes in my heart. Music is the universal language. From heaven's own courts was brought ; In which earth's most touching rhapsodies, Were by the early masters taught. "NEW YEARS." 'NEW YEAR'S— 1896-1903.' We have reached in our life another mile stone ; And now it plainly appears, We are each going on his journey alone, Away down the vista of years. We have reached a point in life's brief span, When we stop and meditate, How short at best is the life of man, And the years to come so great. Does retrospection bring back to view The past with its failings great? Our errors of life we can now review For a moment and contemplate. Making some more resolutions anew. Lopping off some familiar sin ; In the year of grace, eighteen-ninety-six, May be a proper time to begin. The foot prints of time are visibly seen; His marks appear on our brow; His hoary frost on our head is seen ; He is writing our history now. Make a starting point for some noble aim ; Cast away your doubts and fears ; If you ever reach the niche of fame, You can welcome each "New Years." New Year marks a definite space of time; The stars a measure have trod ; Those that sang in creations' prime, Still follow in their orbits abroad. Natures forces are posing in grand review ; We are drifting to years unknown, Where we shall new lessons and studies pursue, In the light that proceeds from the throne. We have reached in our life another mile-stone. How is it, my friend, with thee? Are you drifting along as a thing unknown, Soon to be lost in time's endless sea? HOUSEHOLD EESTEAINT. Or have you some happy prospect in view? Then, stop and begin right here ; Some good for yourself or your neighbor do ; And thus spend each passing year. house:hoi.d restraint. Talk of your dainty rooms and roseate floors, Upholstered sets and rich curtained doors; With furniture cushioned in damasks fine, And bric-a-brac of the latest design. With tropical flov^ers arrayed in full bloom, While exegetics encumber the room ; These must attract in their beauty so bright; And pride must give way to the ethics of right. The rooms may be covered with carpetings rare; And sweet strains of music enliven the air; A veritable palace indeed it may be; All modern equipments in it you sec. A library the best that money can buy. Authors piled up promiscuous high; Are all these attractions sufficiently great, To keep boys at home and perfectly straight? A palace tho' gilded with fine burnished gold, So that it no ornaments further can hold, With the lamp of Aladdin new objects reveal; Emotions of pleasure and wonder we feel, So that our longings no further aspire ; Fruition gives more than heart can desire. Yet all these will clog on the mind of a boy; He seeks from home some unripened joy. You may talk of confining a boy in a house ; A boy is not built with instincts of a mouse ; He may meet with mishaps in experience school, And fresh aspirations may suddenly cool. Disappointment or failure may dampen his pride; Yet he has brilliant schemes that must be tried. Some untoward hap may alter his plan ; But such is transition from boyhood to man. SUMMEE DAYS. 87 There's in the mind of a boy ambition, unrest; For the fires of thought burn deep in his breast; While true independence reigns in him alone, He longs for the day when he power shall own. Talk of rearing your boys as a tender house plant ; We're glad to know that's something you can't. The boy amounts to nothing, tho' meek as a saint, Who is totally ruined by household restraint. The boy with ambition and zeal in his breast. Cannot in seclusion in any home rest ; He day and night studies some new design, Which when completed will aid human kind. No corner can hold, nor palace of art ; He longs for the time to perform his part. Give your boys some freedom — no time for complaint; Don't kill aspiration by household restraint. SUMMER DAYS. Bright summer days at last have come. With all its merry hours, Bringing delights to every home. From Elysian bowers. Matchless spring in varied grandeur. Has left the joyous scene; So in comes summer clad in splendor, In most bewitching mien. How grand and pleasing to behold The songsters on each tree, Chanting ther anthems manifold. And sweetest notes of glee. They all in happy union join. They seem to talk of love ; Mellifluous voices all combine, Their happiness to prove. Would that the realm of human kind, Would now their time employ, In throwing all distress behind; Unite in nature's joy. 88 LIFE'S PROBLEM. What tho' sweet summer has been sung, A thousand times before, The subject still remains as young, As when poets sang of yore. Creation's dreams displayed anew, On every hand are seen ; And nature doth her age renew, In fields of vivid green. This lesson to the mind of man. Should not be wholly lost ; Make hay in summer while you can. For autumn brings the frost. Oh, what a mortal sin it is, To grumble and be sad, In this a world of so much bliss ; So much to make you glad. Then let us sing our sweetest song. Let former misery go ; For this will sure our life prolong; Make Paradise below. LIFErS PROBLEM. There is none in the world seated so high. But some one may be higher : There is no limit 'twixt the earth and sky, To which we may not aspire. The road that many millions tread. Will lead down to disaster; While some in the race may forge ahead. They may reach their goal no faster. The world's knocks may seem cjuite hard; But some may be struck much harder ; Some event unknown may our plans retard, And wreck us outside of the harbor. Towering as mountains high are human ills ; A study of which is distressing; But when true content our bosom fills, This forms our life's great blessing. LIFE'S PROBLEM. Some would the fickle god pursue, Whose foot-steps lead to honor ; With this bewitching bauble in view They "assiduous wait upon her." When they in full possession sit, This fickle goddess of power, May hurl them down to the dismal pit, At some un propitious hour. Men's own misdeeds bring endless woe; On every hand are crosses : None can sum up or yet foreknow, The amount of human losses. The streams are clear on the mountain high, The icicles above are pendant ; So all true wisdom comes from the sky, Upon Faith and Hope attendant. This problem of life is hard to solve, Can't we make our plans much better? Great trusts in life upon each devolve, The creditor well as the debtor. Some worthy object attracts your gaze, Then to this worthy place aspire ; And upward steadily fix your eyes ; The end may crown your desire. Why should you pervert your Creator's plan, By falling lower and lower? When God in his providence made you man. He endowed you with some of His power. The humblest thing is made for use, In the gigantic plan of creation ; Then do not your hum_ble gifts abuse, But feel thankful for your station. Discontinue this moan and sad repine ; The stars in the heaven seem clearer ; Clouds brushed aside they brightly shine. Showing our day of prosperity nearer. Through the hazy mist of human cloud. We observe a golden lining tender; Looking up for a moment when were bowed. Behold the heavens shining in splendor. 90 REPUTATION. I would I could trace with an angel's pen, The earth's great surcease of sorrow; But let us act as becomes good men. And no useless trouble borrow. Will your name be recorded in the "Book of Life,' Engraved on its roll of honor ? You can do some good in this vale of strife ; Be immortalized as the donor. REIPUTATION. When the noblest gift from heaven descended On surging billows of flame, By celestial retinues attended, Swift to our rolling planet came, One from the Empyrean heights of heaven. Sought only an humble station ; The gods assembled had given him name; One happy indeed — called "Reputation." When "virtue" displayed her talisman rare. Whose powers are great and unbounded. To reclaim the fallen — the foul make fair ; The world was wholly astounded. But in magical pinions from aloft, The highest gift to civilization, Descended swift to the shores of time; On its banner was borne — "Reputation." Bright "genius" in oriental emblems, Triumphant, her wonders here displayed ; Mankind was as a slave led captive. By the brilliant display she made. But the gods sought in vain for a gem more fair, In the limitless fields of creation ; For engraved on the arch of the universe wide. In letters of gold stands — "Reputation." Traverse if you will the realms of space, Ascend the highest dome of heaven ; Searching Utopia's boundless paradise, And choose the best thing given, MY BROKEN IDOL. 91 You will find this princely gift to men, Grandest in the bounds of all creation; For heaven is lost and earth is hell When you mourn as lost your — ''Reputation." MY BROKEN IDOL. I never idolized an object Made of inanimate clay, But by some stroke of rude misfortune, Was sure to be taken away. And the ties by which we were bound, Were ruthlessly torn apart ; As the cords of affection were severed, It pulled a string from my heart. Why do the dread shafts of misfortune, Their fiinted arrows conceal, Wounding hearts that are true and united. Who nought for each other can feel But emotions lasting and tender, A divine undying flame? Oh, why this tearing asunder. Whose souls and hearts are the same? It has been said the most beautiful flower. Will soonest wither and fade ; And those whom we love most tenderly, Soonest deep in the grave are laid. And we grieve at the fate of one adored, Whose gentle presence here, Brought us joy and peace and sunshine, As light from some other sphere. We never idolize an object, But some cruel dart and fell, Will strike and pierce the lovely being, Whom we have loved so well. We must tender this our true devotion, Perennial in its bloom ; And cherish the memory of our angel, Now laid in the narrow tomb. 9^ GOING to HIGH SCHOOL. GOING TO HIGH SCHOOL. A personal' sketch, respectfully dedicated to my old friends and classmates, H. J. Dible, of Murrysville, Pa., and J. f C. Boyce, of Sardis. Henry and I were school-mates together ; But this was thirty some years ago ; Thousands of changes have been in the weather, But no change did our friendship know. Some became lawyers, editors, doctors, Others became prominent men in the church ; But Henry and I taught ''District School," And were known to handle the birch. "Excelsior," our motto, we pushed right ahead, With determination and energy, too; To stand at the very top of our class, Was a thing that we always could do, While some were coquetting and fooling. And passing their studies hurriedly by. We spent no time in silly chit — chatting ; And we knew what was meant by "apply." "Oves, non ubique tondentur" — a translation Of which seemed to puzzle a boy, who Rendered it— "eggs are not always broken by thunder," Thinking this was the proper translation too. But passing across on the "Pons assinorum," Was but a shuffling way to recite ; And the bridge that carries an ass across. May be constructed of timbers too light. "Eggs are not always broken by thunder." The very best teachers and schools, Will fail to put brains where nature denied. And the world is still peopled with fools. And the scholar of wonderful brilliancy. Who did little time in studying spend, Was soon overtaken and left in the race. By the student who closely did studies attend. GOING TO HIGHSCHOOL. 93 But forty years work changes mind and body; . ; . , - The aspirations we then did find, Have fled like troubled phantoms at night; And undeceived is the matured mind. Contact with the busy striving world around, Has brushed many fond conceits away; We stand as ex-pedagogues ; did our work ' , In the cause of education, at an earlier day. We taught ''the young idea how to shoot ;" Enforced as we could the "Golden Rule ;" And sharply used the rod betimes, When other devices failed in school. Talk about ruling a city, controlling a state, . Officers handy to enforce 3^our will ; But to govern a group of mischievous boys, Needs greater executive ability still. Tho' in other employments now engaged, We are not ashamed the world to tell. We put conscience into the work Ave did ; Making it always a point to excel. A pittance of twenty dollars per month. Could neither make us rich or great ; Yet we saved a little more than we spent, Thus adding a trifle to our estate. A new generation has appeared on the scene ;' Gone many acquaintances well-known here ; So' you and I will soon be laid on the shelf, And in a few more years disappear. But the beautiful chain of friendship formed. When we studied together at school, '■ Shall never be sundered or broken in twain. While we remain here on God's foot-stool. Henry and I went to school together; This was thirty some years ago ; A Providence kind has spared our lives. For still further usefulness here below. Our life's streams are pulsating anew ; 94 MILD OCTOBER. Our heart beats warm, our emotions come, When we think of departed friends of youth Who left us ; — but we, too, shall be gathered home. Notes. — Excelsior — higher; more elevated. Oves now ubi- que tondentur^Sheep are not everywhere shorn. Ex- pedagogues — Teachers out of the business. Pons assinorum — The bridge of asses. Our high school — Leechburg, Penna. Death has claimed class-mate J. C. Boyce. MILD OCTOBER. Beautiful pleasant mild October, When the summer comes to grief; The woods have changed to crimson color, To prepare the falling leaf. Now the forest is tinged with sadness ; Hushed the song of singing bird ; The late vocal strains of gladness, Are now no longer heard. Now the golden blaze of sunset. Puts on sympathizing hue ; The autumn clouds in sombre jet, Over-hang the skies in blue. And quick beneath the horizon. The glinting sunshine fades ; When deeper chilliness coming on. O'er nature's face pervades. The shifting winds in mild cadences, Begin to whisper in the ear: 'The harvests' over, the summer ended," And declining is the year. We now pluck the ripened fruitage, Grapes of the luscious vine. Which may be used for better purpose, Than the making into wine. Capricious, mild, serene October, We note thy plaintive cry; For the winds a dirge are singing, THE COXYITE. 96 And the dark waves, quick reply. But we true enjoyments now, May in abundance reap ; Life's labors with success are crowned; Then, why should mortals weep? Beautiful gathered fruits of the earth! The promise doth still remain : 'Seed-time and harvest shall come and go," Our garners be filled with grain. We must have time for luxurious growth, That summer is sure to bring; But the mellow fruit of October, Transcends the promise of spring. When the Lord of the harvest shall come. With his sheaves of golden grain, We shall be gathered to our home ; For our life has not been in vain. A simile of man's condition ; We shall be gathered at last, — Hope shall be changed to full fruition, When our October is past. THE COXYITE. America needs no Coxyite, An excressence on the soil, Who would live without some labor, Who would neither spin nor toil ; Who would lead a life nomadic, And beg his share of food; A pestiferous ''dead-beat," bummer. That serves no earthly good. The world owes no man a living Who despises honest work ; Who neither uses brain or muscle. But always aims to shirk. The world needs no such tramping armies. Who would despoil the landscape fair; Want of property re-distribution, So that they may get a share. 96 THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN. Why in the scale of human being Will any creature fast descend, 'Till low as the brute creation, That has neither aim nor end ? Men were created for some purpose, Each in his accustomed sphere; But the worthless tramp who feeds on others, Has no worthy or business here. There are countless social heresies, By which men would despoil, Those who by frugality earn riches As the result of honest toil. No "communism" in this free land; Those who would prosper, thrive. Must earn their bread by their own hand; Thus in independence live. "A space there is for every creature," Is a saying true and trite ; For foreordained is human labor. And who says it is not right? Pestiferous anarchy or socialism, Of whatever type or breed, Will be summarily dealt with ; For such our people do not need. Notes. — The term was applied to a worthless army of tramps who followed "Gen." Coxy to Washington City, to force Congress to pass some measures of relief, in March and April, 1894. THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN— "Populi Regnant.' The people have spoken — have spoken once more. With the thunder-like tones of Niagara's roar ; Like the fierce-rolling storm, the swift-sweeping blast, Like swift meteors down from the firmament cast, The hordes of corruption, of political crime, That swindled the people in a manner sublime. Have received a set-back, a great calling down. From the lakes to the sea, to the populous town. MOVE ONVVAKD O TIME 97 The people have spoken, have spoken again ; The valleys are filled with the hosts of the slain ; The ballot more potent than cannon or ball, Is the safe-g-uard of freedom, a redress to all. Woe will bef"all the party, as well as the man, That does for its country the worst that it can ; No patriot living shall his infamy own ; People shall rejoice when he is overthrown. History its lessons may often repeat ; And men over-burdened may beg and entreat Those haughty courtiers, who in defiance still, May continue to thwart the popular will. Until those oppressed, in thralldom held down, May burst their bonds with a mighty bound; Then as lashed by the waves of the raging sea. Those shall buried in oblivion be. MOVE ONWARD, O TIME. Answer to^ — "Rock Me to Sleep." Move onward, oh years, in thy course sublime. Would we block the Avheels of swift-rolling time? Would we change time's dial, its hands turn back, Stop the earth's revolutions around on its track ; Call our friends back from that fair sunny shore ; Do things that are foolish a thousand times more? These are the states of a fanciful brain, When reason succumbs to illusions insane. It is vain to wish back the stream of our years, With its trials, temptations and sorrowing tears; It is also quite silly, and imbecile, vain. To wish for return of our childhood again. Have we not had enough of harassing care? Ay, more than the troubled heart can bear ; Then, why resurrect joys or sufferings dead. And mourn pale ghosts of opportunities fled? We would not pick up pebbles on Lethe's shore. Where the winds are silent, and no waves roar ; Nor delusive apples on Dead Sea's plain. Which when touched turn to ashes again ; 98 OUK BOYS. Nor call up spirits from the 'Vasty deep," Who are presumed to enjoy their peaceful sleep ; And our parents at rest beyond time's woes, We would not disturb their calm repose. And tho' o'er our homes deep shadows have flown, We have many joys and adversities known, We would not, had we the power at will, Wish for the touch of a hand that is still. Poor Orpheus, alas, his labors were in vain. To bring back to earth his Eurydike again, Learn by heart this lesson, where'er our lot is cast; It is folly to recall the dim shadows of the past. Would we open wide the portals of the chrystal gate. And usher airy legions into this our mortal state? The hoary past bring back to our vision, anew. With its myriad repulses chilling to our view? Tho' our childhood days have fled, many years ago, We would not wish them back ; a thousand times no. We as grown up children, must our daily vigils keep ; And Ave want no kind mother, to rock us now to sleep. Weird fancies will oft unsolicited find Their way to the partly-unbalanced mind ; But no one on earth desires now to seek A kiss from the pale, cold, ghostly cheek ; Nor would we wish to see the shadowing hosts From the realms of Hades, wandering ghosts. Away with such sickly sentiments so vain ; And brush aside the cob-webs from the brain, Notes — Lethe — A river of the lower world whose waters caused forgetfulness in those who drank them. Orpheus — A musician whose skill in music was such that the trees and rocks followed him. OUR BOYS. Exuberance of spirit is theirs to enjoy; Cheerfulness with them abides ; Good humor's their constant feast of the soul. While innocence in them resides. OUR BOYS. 99 Do they make a general racket around Commingled with laughter and noise? Must repression be used to turn them down. Checking the merriment of those boys? Ah no, we cannot ; this their hour of freedom ; Their time to. play with their toys ; Their time for romping and skipping around; For enthusiastic are the souls of the boys. Physical exercise aids them in growth ; They were not made to be resigned ; Development true remains with the boy, Who cultures both body and mind. Go on in your ebullition of spirit ; What if grandpa does sometimes scold ; His notions are changed ; perhaps too sullen : But boys must be boys, if parents grow old. Many old folks seem to forget the truth, That in youth they loved frolic too ; And hopped and skipped and played leap-frog, As our healthy boys now all do. Mount your hobby-horse, boots and spurs ; Ride your tricycle wheel with speed ; Develop your bust, and strengthen your lungs ; Such healthy athletics you need. And if they drop in hungry and tired, On the floor too heavily tread, Remember that play is much better than physic; And pills are much dearer than bread. While violence and rudeness we would deplore, A spirit of selfishness mean despise ; There is nothing in all this world too good. For our romping good-natured boys. Soon laborious work of the world is theirs, With its stupendous mountain of care ; When papa and mamma have left them, They must then their perplexities bear. Long be continued the joys of the children. Before genuine trials are known, When mirth and frolic mingled with glee, Mark the hours they call their own. 1 ' .'^ L. C' Kt, 100 THE UNEXPECTED. Go' ahead and fire your Chinese crackers ; Make smoke and whooping and noise ; For the genuine life of the world to-day, Beats alone in the breast of the boys. Some new invention may the world appall, Changing methods of work to channels unknown, Which gives to the world more genuine value, Than the much-hunted philosopher's stone. Happy is the man as well as the nation, Who his God-given genius employs ; For if e'er the millennium reaches us, It must be ushered in by the boys. Dear parents, then cease your fretting and murmur, Open for a moment that bosom of thine ; Let the boys enjoy life while they may; For now is their day of bright sunshine. With good training and morals equip them, While you still have the power to advise ; For God has made the earth for His children; There is nothing too good for our boys. the; unexpected. 'Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate." — Pope. Are you some worthy object pursuing In city or country or state ? Are you the goddess of fortune awooing, And hoping to dine with the great? Or, are you rapidly downward agoing At a horrible break neck speed? The kind of record you now are making, Mankind is not slow to heed. Perhaps the original plan of your canvasi. On which you your fortune tried, By some indirection wholly unknown, May have been suddenly turned aside; The pleasing hopes and plans you cherished, By which you would guide your course, Have by some fatality quickly perished, As by an irresistible force. THE UNEXPECTED. 101 In occult chambers of mind deep hidden, Are the mysterious sources of thought; And when we start to write the beginning, Of the finishing touch, we know nought. But the inspiration by which we indite Word after word, line upon line, Is a power that guides and directs our thoughts, Not of wholly our own design. We plan our campaign with well-drawn maps ; We think we see clearly through ; But our best laid plans have dire mishaps ; One thing we attempt, another we do. The greatest mind may in some things fail ; No oracle yet has been tried, That can help us read the "Book of Fate," Which the present from mortals hides. Sometimes the objects and things we count and want, Are like forbidden fruit, denied ; Men's wishes the gods did not always grant, But oft gave them some gift beside. Thus things unexpected crowd in upon us, Whose lasting results we can't know ; That which we think unworthy of doing, May be the key to our fortune below. While great opportunities make great men. In learning, in warfare or art. Unknown men will rise on the spur of the moment, And perform a most wonderful part. Then how can we guess the predestined end, By which we successful may be, When thousands of human wrecks are seen, Floating like bubbles upon life's sea? A morsel of philosophy may taste good ; Do not worry the future about ; If you are now doing nothing but sawing wood, You can for other chances look out. It's a thousand times better we can't foresee Each event ere it happens here ; For the mind and soul would assuredly be Unable to stand the load of care. 102 THE COURSE OF EMPIRE. There is no royal road to wealth or fame; Take hold of the work you like to pursue ; But if something unknown obstructs your course, Change your tactics like a soldier true. Application, perseverance and energy, Will work in your favor by odds ; Tho' you may not reach the mount of desire, You may sit at the feast of the gods. N'Ote^Gods here means great or good men. THE COURSE OF EMPIRE. "Totus mundus agit histrionem." "The whole world is a stage." Turn we our muse from this Western Nation, Cease a moment to worship at her shrines, "To a land where the lamp of glory still burns, And the light of immortality shines," To that civilization, ancient, historic. That hath girdled the globe like a chain; The conqueror, exemplar, teacher of nations, Whose glory had risen, but is fallen again. The grand course of empire now has descended. From the famed fields of the Orient trodden by war, Whose empires had begun, decayed and ended. Till progress in Occident Nations shines like a star. The "Delphian Oracle," no longer is sounding; So with Orpheus' harp and Apollo's lyre. Or is there yet in Eastern Hemisphere burning. The Persian's ancient and sacred fire? Turn we to that older land of philosophers, Renowned and distinguished in war or peace, When wisdom, belleslettres, and literature flourished In Athens renowned, the caiptol city of Greece. Ariseth there now a modern Pericles, Of whose wisdom and valor the ages tell yet. Who fought in the sacred cause of Democracy, Whose star had risen but not to set? THE COUESE OF EMPIRE. 103 A reminiscence of Greece's ancient glory, The ruined Parthenon at Athens stands, Reminding nations that war's dread visitations, Have changed the maps of many lands. Where can we boast of modern orators or statesmen, Who can Plato in reasoning, or Socrates excel ? Of classic Thucydides and Xenophon. Shall all succeeding ages tell. Saio Plato: — "Virtue is one but aptly comprehended With wisdom, courage, temperance, thought ;" And would that our modern legislators mind The conservatism these great masters taught, The cardinal virtues, equity, equality, humanity Sit in ashes ; modern nations truly need Learn lessons how to treat their ill-used subjects; The oracle is silent ; he who runs may read. Socrates arraigned as an enemy of religion. This staid philosopher, the wisest of men Was found guilty and finally condemned, For denouncing vileness that was existing then. Miracles are no more wonderful than the changes. That "Father Time" has in later centuries rung up. Since immortal Socrates was condemned to die. By quaffing down the poisoned hemlock cup. The world still maligned its benefactors of true Enlightment, who in the noblest cause Have written laws and founded constitutions Making government much better than it was. Lycurgus wrote and enforced his own laws To establish discipline ; his people save By rigid enforcement of such; and the name "Spartan" is associated with the brave. To whom shall we liken the orator Demosthenes, Hurling philipics against the Delphian god? The world was filled with the fire of his eloquence. And denunciation that speaketh still abroad. Among statesmen of the. modern nations. Whose wisdom and eloquence are rare, Plato, D'emosthenes and Cicero, as speakers, Will very favorably at all times compare. 104 THE COURSE OF EMPIRE. Next we speak of Alexander the conqueror, Whose kingdom at one time was the world great, Whose dream of universal empire was to merge The nations into a tribuary state. Old Carthage, Italy and Europe added. Were to be his by conquest, yet beside ; But while for universal empire planning, He took to drinking; in maddening fever died. Grand old nation reputed by Romulus founded ; After a reign of thirty years had passed him by. Was to his father Mars translated, the Martian heaven That hangs among the resplendent orbs on high. Gone are Janus and Vulcan ; also Vesta the goddess, Who did o'er homes destinies preside; The famous ''Sybilline Books" of fortune transient, That were once the Roman Senate's pride. Posthumous nation, ruined by arbitrament of war; We pause to think of Carthage's sad fate ; Defeat of Hannibal ; extermination of this city Renowned for wealth, resources, valor great. The eternal city on the Tiber sits a queen dethroned ; Once proud mistress of the world ; now she's shorn Of power to enthrall the nations ; a monument Of man's ambition : a Niobe quite forlorn. No more Roman legions countermarch, led by a Victorious Scipio between the Elbe and Rhine ; Hadrians troops as shadows pass ; repudiated Her claim to rule the nations by power divine. Shorn of her temporal power ; the nations (pay tribute) To Christs vicegerert holding St. Peter's Keys ; While her ban of excommunication lighth,^ sits, She labors for the reign of the "Prince of Peace." While oppression rules, revolutions must make changes In government; shaking thrones be felt; Yet we fear no raid by plundering *'Goth and Vandal," For the sturdy Anglo-Saxon, the Teuton and the Celt Must still remain the earth's supreme masters ; Will our globe's destinies finally control ; Their religion, language and their civilization. Must possess the earth, only bounded by the pole. ADDENDA. 105 Religion, civilization, science, art and progress, Follow in the wake of the Anglo-Saxon tread ; He occupies; he plants his flag; he never retreats Once he has conquered; his outposts far ahead. His conquering army must reclaim the earth From bonds of heathendom ; he never reckons loss The Cresert must be in humiliation lowered By the crowning act of civilization, the lifting of the cross. What the future has in store for European powers, We know not; we suppose the holocaust of war Will wage in fury o'er the nation's, changing the map And boundaries of some kingdoms, and retard. The advance of righteousness ; but the end Will mark a great advance in liberty; False systems will topple over ; and the day Of revolution for better things is nigh. ADDENDA. Vast populations have been moving westward Steadily since pre-historic times ; As if by one mighty effort at concentration. The peoples have sought our Western climes. The world's scepter of learning, wealth and power, To Greece from bran^e old Persia passed ; For a while Italia reigned preeminent, But Great Britain held this power at last. - Like Bethlehem's star which steadily guided' The three kings with their treasure in the way. Till it stood still over the infant cradle, Pointing as a beacon where our Redeemer lay. So the star of Empire which in the East had risen. Where the seat of vast power once did rest. Has been steadily moving Occidental, Till it stands over the young empire of the West. May we improve on that ennobling civilization Which modern armament has rendered doubly strong, When the banner of Christ borne by His battalions, Will bear religion and freedom both along. 106 ADDENDA. Turn we then from this, our Western Nation, To the homes of scholars and eminent divines, Whose lamp of glory still proudly burns, ''And the light of immortality shines." Notes. — ''The Guebers" were a tribe of fire-worshippers in Persia. The "Delphian Oracle" of Greece, a deity sup- posed to give answers to inquiries. "Orient," the East; here used for eastern nations. "Occident," the West; here used for western nations. "Orpheus," a poet who could move inanimate objects by the power of his lyre. "Phoe- bus Apollo," a deity among the Greeks and Romans pre- siding over archery, medicine and music. "Belleslettres," polite literature. "Pericles," a great Grecian warrior and statesman. "Lycurgus," a great Spartan law-giver. "Parthenon," a celebrated temple of Minerva at Athens. "Socrates," the purest of moral philosophers, being in advance of his age, he was condemned to death, by being forced to drink a cup of hemlock poison. "Plaito and Xe- nophon," pupils of Socrates and the greatest moral teach- ers who' lived before Christ. "Thucydides," a renowned Grecian scholar. "Demosthenes," one of the greatest of Grecian orators. "Alexander the Great," a great king and general ; at one time ruler of the known world. He died from deliriums caused by strong drink. "Carthage," once a great city in Africa, but after a long siege was captured and destroyed by the Roman power. "Romulus," the re- puted founder of Rome, according to received chronology, 753, B. C. "Mars," in ancient times, a deity; the god of war; now, one of our planets. "Martian heaven," a fancy of the ancients. "Niobe," the daughter of Tantalus who wept herself into a stone through grief at the death of her children, that were slain by Apollo. "Janus," a god of two faces, whose temple was kept open during time of war. "Vulcan," a forger, the god of blacksmiths. "Vesta," the goddess of the household, in whose temple at Rome, the sacred fire was kept and guarded by six vestal virgins. "Sybilline Book," consulted as oracles of fortune by the Roman senate in times of great calamity. "Hannibal," an eminent Carthagenian general who suffered defeat. "Sci- pio," a victorious Roman general. "Goth," one of an ancient tribe of barbarians, inhabiting Norway and Sweden. "Vandal," one of the most barbarous of the northern na- A BEAUTIFUL THOUGHT. 107 tions that invaded Rome ini the fifth century. "Christ's vice- gerent," said by the CathoHcs to be St. Peter, who holds the keys of heaven and hell. ''Anglo-Saxon," an English Saxon, also their language. "Celt," a name pertaining to the early inhabitants of Italy, Gaul, Spain and Britain. "Teuton," a people of Germany and their language. "The Course of Empire," the trend of a higher civilization, freedom and progress, which has been, from, the Oriental nations, steadily drifting westward. "Immortality," the quality of being endowed with endless life. "The Cres- cent," the symbol or emblem of Turkish power. "The Cross," the symbol or emblem of Christianity. A BEAUTIFUL THOUGHT. 'When God would set fast a beautiful thought, He plants it in the tree." — Talmage. "When God sets fast a beautiful thought. He plants it in the tree," That rears aloft its giant head. The symbol of the free. ; Without its presence, this our earth Would be a desert drear ; '; Nb chrystal fountains could collect. Nor nectral springs appear. When God conceives a beautiful thought. He moulds it into a flower. Whose fragrance from His gardens above. Is wafted into each bower, : When He from heaven would mould a thought. Leaving its impress here, • The form of some celestial wonder, ] Is rounded into a sphere. The magnolia, palm and maguey That grace some southern grove, ' \ Are but scintillations from His thought. From the gardens of His love. From the amaranthine fields above us. That know not time's decay. Are sent perennials bright to cheer us, From the blue upper way. lOB OUR FAST AGE. • • ■ Unfolding of his power exhibits ' 'A well developed plan ' ■' .■ To clothe the earth with trees and flowers, ■ '^ The fit abode of man, - Painted by an Artists potent-pencil. Whose tintings show the skill And workmanship of a supreme master, ; \Vho the universe doth fill. When we the starry hosts consider, On the grand celestial height. Where the constellations ever burn In luster passing bright, We stoop in wonder and amazement, That He to us, has brought, :; The clear refulgence from His throne, The subjects of His thought. When God conceives a beautiful thought. Painted in colors bright, He plants it in the luscious fruit, A blessing and delight ; The weighed orbs, in majesty above us. To fine perfection brought, Are but conceptions co-eternal With His sublimer thought. OUR FAST AGE. This is a hurly-burly break-neckage, When men will rush with speed. Against the rocks of sin and danger. Without ever taking heed. Boys are old men now at thirty-five ; They live so very fast : They burn their candle at both ends, Of course it cannot last. Men will invent new fangled methods And rack their puzzled brains, On some new extraordinary system Which will increase their gains. OUR FAST AGE. 109 Speculation and peculation Have a tendency that's mean ; For the race of fools will always live, And grab at something ''green. " If great financial gains are offered, ^ At once they reach each hand, While "discretionary pools" announce, Inducements truly grand. In rolls the gold and green-backs, Into their coffer's strong; But the semi-annual dividends, Are slow to come along. There are lots of people in this world. Whose earnings are quite small, Will part with their hard-earned dollar. With good chance to lose it all. This mysterious bent can't be explained By philosophic ken ; To' gain something out of nothing, Is the wish of many men. In face of oft-repeated warnings Of old or modern schools. Men will rush into the arms of sharpers, Be fleeced like simple fools. The staid old interest, six per cent, Seems for this age too slow ; Men will fall like Phaeton from his chariot, Into the abyss below. Men must grow rich with railroad speed ; Make money thick and fast ; While some may for a time succeed. The funds short time will last. That which is gained by dishonest means, ^^ Will find a swift pretense ' To mount on wings and fly away. Not knowing when or whence. Honest gold as hard-earned credit, Will no doubt, longer count; It will be a blessing to the possessor; Financial waves surmount. 110 QUATRAIN, FOOLS. Don't sacrifice good principle or name ; Let conscience ever keep You in the straight way of rectitude; So calm will be your sleep. QUATRAIN, FOOLS "Co Munde Plein de fous." We dare not reflect in the first "Great Cause," Who still rules the world by immutable laws ; Nor yet on the various prophet's schools, Many of which are filled with fools. "AMERICA FOR AMERICANS." We promulgate this declaration, In our much desired plan ; The time has truly come for America, To aid the American. Not that we would deprive good peoples Of any name or race, Who wish to better their condition. From finding here a place. We want to find the friendly legislator, Who is heart and soul imbued, In the interest of our struggling millions ; Our nation's greatest need. We warn all mercenary legislators, Of whatever name or creed ; To the cry of the sleighted American, You must, at once, give heed. Shall foreign tribes or Italia's sons Afflict the world once more? Shall the reeking scum and filth of Europe, Be poured in upon our shore? Have things come to such a terrible pass, Our natives must give place His home, his work, his situation To a semi-barbarous race? Shall corporations, ''communism of pelf," Be allowed to trample down The native American citizen. ''AMERICA FOR AMERICANS." Ill Till no place for him is found? Law must check those organizations, That would our laws defy, By importing-, employing foreign hordes, While our men stand idly by. The man or woman who is born here or. Naturalized upon the soil, Must always have the right of way. If it only be to toil. And corporate greed or close combine, Allied with selfish knaves. Must learn this lesson for all time; The age is past for slaves. A goodly heritage and rich is ours ; But is a burning shame, That despotic masters once o'erthrown, Are only changed in name. Men will assert their heaven-born right. The right to labor here ; Closed be our ports 'gainst foreign hordes, Or revolution's near. Hold up your head, my worthy brother, Though horny be your hand; This is your father's priceless heritage, In this our favored land. While you are patriotic citizens. And love your country's cause, Demand of your sworn legislators, To make protecting laws. Protecting capitalists to manufacture. By "Protective Tariff" laws. May be in its design munificent; But this won't help the cause. If crowds of foreigners take the work, That our own men can do ; "Protection" to the American labor. Is the only policy true. 112 THE GREAT OVERFLOW. THE GREAT OVERFLOW. With the progress made by inventive genius In the sciences, mechanics and art, Modern appHance for saving labor, That accurately perform their part. Moved by the electric motor or steam, Tens of thousands yield their places ; While the laboring crov^ds still multiply, What work shall we find for the many races? With this inevitable law of displacement In manufactures of every kind, In what branch of human industry. Shall the ousted worker employment find? This troubled question of economics, Will like a spectre, still appear in view ; The time may come when the willing worker, May seek many places for work to do. Great corporations study dividends ; To each great invention men must yield Their places by which they a living earned, To the iron competitor that rules the field, It might now be a disputed question, Whether or not the principle is true : — Should applied mechanics take men's places. Without giving them some other work to do? What with natural increase and immigration, The avenues of employment are lessened each year; With the exceeding rapid march of inventions. Which contracted or widened is the worker's sphere? But the history of the past, paradoxical it seems. And will to the attentive student shov. , That new fields of labor up were opened ; That labor and invention hand in hand did go. But the future horoscope is not pleasing, From any point the compass now can show; For with the unborn millions of population, There must of necessity, be an overflow. THE GREAI OVERFLOW. 113 Not taking a pessimistic view of the situation, Or using the prognostications of a seer, Capital must make to labor just concessions Or there is interminable trouble near. Altho' men have been trodden down for ages, Until scarcely able to longer sigh or groan, We trust that in the great enlightened future, Unto men, by men, shall better things be done. It is idle now to talk of revolutions, The last arguments of the oppressed ; The better plan of peaceful arbitration. Shall step in, relieving the distressed. Perhaps the principal of evolution. Our enigma or querry might explain ; "The survival of the fitest," occupy the ground ; The others, let die out or order to be slain. But Christian ethics step in right here, Expounded by ablest tongue and pen ; "Do unto others as you would be done by," Will restore earth in a measure to paradise again. While labor-saving inventions benefit the world, There is no axiom to my mind seems more plain ; That is an evil to destroy the work of millions. Without restoring to them some compensating gain, Perhaps it were well not to disturb our peace unduly. Or borrow trouble for the centuries to come ; The present is ours ; use it to our best advantage. This being our privilege — our duty then is done. AVhat with no more discoverable continents, Inhabitable islands now in sight. The welfare of earth's future billions, Does not to the reflective mind seem bright. But the question still remains unanswered; Let future times their expediency show, How to best employ unnumbered millions. An avalanche of people, a tremendous overflow. 114 HOLD YOUR TONGUE. HOLD YOUR TONGUE. "There is a woman down there who has an awful tongue ; she keeps the whole neighborhood stirred up."— D. L. Moody. If your temper is out of joint or ruffled, By a real or fancied wrong, Let me impress upon your mind this lesson, It's always safe to hold your tongue : And keep in hold a steady rein, Until you some composure gain. Things in this world oft go wrong; The best plans you may devise. May like an obstinate current strong, Drift away before your eyes ; But control your feelings, for 'tis best, Your mental powers should quiet rest. One great wrong may breed another ; If you try to regulate the ills, Of your own or that of others, No, you cannot fill the bills, A thousand wrongs can't make one right; Revenge is weak if you have might. What you most desire you may not get. Some enemy your wishes may oppose; It will do no good to murmur or fret ; Time will even it with your foes ; ^ The much better plan is thus to live ; Pardon, forget, live right, forgive. Quietude, not quarreling should exist In each humble home of ours ; Removed from strife it should be blessed. Where no evil tongue devours ; Not emitting poison like serpents vile,^ Nor hammering neighbors all the while. It puzzles moral philosopher's research, That people should prefer to live In the atmosphere of immoral contagion, ARE HOLIDAYS A BLESSING. 115 And by lying habits thrive, Rather than in the moral atmosphere, Where religion reigns with conscience here. But as the tongue blights all around it As with the fires of hell, It well behooves each human creature, To hold in check, and guard it well ; For the flaming angel with a sword. Can't undo the sin of a wicked word. Then keep your mind and heart from evil, And your tongue from speaking guile, Why should you elect to serve the devil. Who will own you after a while. Then keep your tongue from bitter strife ; For out of the heart are the issues of life. The tongue rightly used is a useful member; You and I have often been told, A word fitly spoken how pleasant it is, "Like apples of silver in pictures of gold." T^hen blessings on him who can always impart, A word of cheer, to enliven the heart. "He who steals my purse steals trash," Has been by Shakespeare said ; But he who steals my reputation, "Makes me very poor indeed." Who filches by a deceitful tongue. Does me an irreparable wrong. Oh, grant me the power to impress upon you, With a poet's or prophet's pen ; The tongue was made for the noblest uses ; Blessing, instead of cursing, our fellow men. Then let this star be placed in your crown ; You raised men up, instead of dragging them down. ARE HOLIDAYS A BLESSING. Are holidays of any kind a blessing? Is a question that we in earnest ask ; But let each reader give his answer ; For it is not an easy task. 116 ARE HOLIDAYS A BLESSING. When discussing live and social problems, This rule will hold invariably true: The value of any day and institution, Is in proportion to the good they do. Then by a process of logical deduction, Which vv^ill true mathematics own ; The process of ratiocination, Are from the known to the unknown. Science still deduces new-born formulas. Unknown equations to evolve ; For eminent scientists and scholars, Have many problems yet to solve. That which is intended for a blessing. May be perverted to a curse ; Just as the luscious fruit in Eden's garden. Did disease and death disburse. So it runs in all succeeding ages, Men will the grandest gifts abuse ; Paradise has no attractions for them ; They turn its blessings to ignoble use. Man, in his fallen nature is so perverted, If heaven strewed garlands in his path, Would spurn them as unworthy notice ; And drink deep the dregs of wrath. Until the millennium shall dawn, That which was intended for a good, Will be changed to most debasing uses : Men will poison drink instead of solid food. Are national holidays a blessing? The casual observer sayeth no; For behold a peaceful family broken, By drink — the demon of all woe. ,^ Here bacchanalian orgies of the night. Again its fearful work has done; Some unlucky life has been blown out, Between the rise and set of sun. Next morn the papers tell of crimes committed, As a sequel of the holiday's trend; That one wonders where they had beginning. Or what boundaries mark their end. . ARE HOLIDAYS A BLESSING. J 17 From one end of our land unto the other, It is but an endless repetition still, A glowing description of the honors, That will make the blood run chill. So it seems on those especial days, Designed for noblest use of the times. They are turned aside to drunken orgies, And the most revolting crimes. So instead of lightening life's burdens, By making its current happier flow. Rum marks this day for devastation, Producing unutterable woe. The darkest picture painted yet by artist, Must have its fairer, sunnier side. By which its defects and imperfections, We may in a certain measure hide. So the million happier families Find this time a source of joy, When s.undered friends are re-united ; And in social mirth the hours employ. Friend meets the face of happy friend ; Old friendships have new birth ; Now exchanged are gladsome greetings, Which are by far too few on earth! Thrice blest be each returning holiday, When heaven and earth send cheer ; Hand clasps hand in friendship's grasp ; A foretaste of heaven may be here. As the purest gold ^r silver coined, Must have its weight of alloy, So the purest of terrestrial blessings, Must be mixed with saddened joy. Yet those national or memorial days. Must ever a grateful echo find In the heart and soul of patriots. In the breast of all mankind. That which adds a moment of happiness. Making our life's trials less. Relieves some worthy ones of suffering. Taking away the sting of distress, 118 ARE HOLIDAYS A BLESSING. Should be kept as a memorial sacred ; Not be allowed to run to decay; For life is more than the things that perish, And we hail each well-kept holiday. We have cause to lament the wicked carousal, Where life is of miuch happiness shorn ; But we rejoice there cometh a day in the year, When old memories revived — new ones are born. We rejoice that a day is thus set apart, That we should observe in a spirit true. Knowing that life at best is short enough, And our days of rejoicing too few. National holidays should be a blessing; Their origin, inception, design. Is to cause patriotism to grow in the heart And thankfulness dwell in the mind. For our children around us must now be taught. The value of our institutions grand ; That our ''Magna Charta" with blood was bought, That we have O'n earth the freshest land. Then be it ours those days to honor, Not only for the nation's good, But as becoming, meet and proper, All self-respecting people should. Then let our holidays fill this measure, So that our happiness may increase ; Be citizens true to our institutions ; Cultivate temperance, charity and peace. If we have overdrawn these pictures. Please show us where we are wrong ; We will at once make needed corrections, If our language is too strong. But read again ni}^ brightest picture ; Carry with you what you may. So that you lend a charm of pleasure. To each recurring holiday. HOPE DIED AT LAST. 119 HOPE DIED AT LAST. A true incident that happened at Johnstown, Pa., December 25th, 1894. She waited four years for the return of her lover, but he came not. She only said, "ATy life is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am. aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead." — Tennyson. She kept a perpetual watching Oil each succeeding Christmas morn, For the lover of four years before. Hoping- that he might at last return ; She had the table spread with viands On each new, recurring year, Thinking that her old-time lover. Might at Christmastide appear. But she was doomed to disappointment ; For the man she vainly sought, Was dead, drowned, or married to another ; But still she had not him forgot. In her heart there brooded a sorrow Which she never could expel ; Life was as death to her without him, Alas, for Johnstown's grieving belle. About Christmas time four years ago, He was a lover fond and true ; But having promised, he did desert her. As perfidious man will do. As he never wrote nor yet came back, Hope within her bosom died ; To end life's sad disappointments, She then committed suicide. L'ENVOL Oh, the steadfastness of woman's love! It is worse than mortal sin To trifle Avith those warm aflfections, And the hand and heart to win. 120 SUPERSTITION. Then to desert her to dishonor. What is left her but despair? What law can reach this wretch to punish, Or force him its righteous burden bear? Is there a moral to this story, For you, my gentle ladies fair? If your unsteadfast lover jilts you, Never yield to dark despair. Why should you sacrifice a useful life, On courtship's stormy, troubled sea? For you can easily be the wife. Of a much better man than he. Constancy is a god-like virtue. Of which the poets often sing; Bestowing it on an unworthy suitor. Is not just the proper thing. How often history repeats itself, No one in this world can tell ; There may be some who read this story, Left as was our Johnstown belle. Note. — "L, envoi," serving to convey a moral. SUPERSTITION. We must confess mankind is superstitious, Such now is in my line of thought. I appeal to the world's prolific thinkers For an answer ; who is not. It has come down from earliest ages. Its spell and power binding as a chain ; From it we can't ourselves emancipate. For it seems to flow thro' every vein. It may be a remnant of that heritage. Which prevailed *in semi-barbarous state, Before the era of Christian civilization : Mythology, astrology, or fate. But let us label it what we will. Modern knowledge antiquities refines; Men still cling to some old superstition, Of what we render evil or propitious signs. SUPERSTITION. 121 Thro' the ancient so-called "Books of Sybilline," The Roman senators learned their fate ; For in strict accordance with this oracle, They steered the uncertain ship of State. The "Delphian Oracle" also had its shrine In ancient Greece and mystic Rome ; In its prophetic answer was the wisdom, That found a place in every home. Quaint astrologers and soothsayers, Went beyond reasons feeble bars ; Astrologers asserting that all mankind Were dominated by leading stars. That man of many fortunes — Napoleon, In military manners great, Ascribed success tO' his ruling star, That impelled him on as by fate. The life and history of Lord Byron Was by evil fortune marred; From his own lawful wife, he sought divorce. By the blind goddess, evil-starred. Unhappy writer of "Childe Harold ;" The world has seldom ever seen. Such admixture of genius, sensuality. And intellectual powers keen. Robert Burns in "Tam O' Shanter," Does in somewhat stirring language write, - When pursuing some uncanny pleasures, In the "wee" small hours of the night. How he came across witches and warlocks ; We know not by accident or chance, Engaged in a new French cotillion. And had quite a lively dance. But permit us to make all allowance For poor Bobby's addled brain ; And not reach far into metaphysics. This mystery to explain. There's a thousand demons in the glass. That diseased imaginations fill ; And the worst "hob goblins" in this world, Are the creatures of the "still." 122 SUPERSTITION. Shall we read the classic Shakespeare And take note of what he saith About the pranks of wakeful witches In his story of Macbeth? To make a strong and potent charm, There commingled were queer parts Of uncouth animals, filthy vermins. Best of the necromancer's arts. If we turn to the volume of "Inspiration," We may in grand procession call Hosts of spirits from the "vasty deep," As did once the Kingly Saul. The spirit of Samuel was called up To see if he could tidings bring, To inspire news that would mean victory, To Israel's rejected King. It has been custom for lovers of all ages. To choose the time of hallow e'en To try their charms and incantations. That the future may be foreseen : That the maid may glance at her future lover, The young man sees his future wife, That both may discern that good fortune. That will happier make their life. If a group of thirteen sit down to dinner. They are haunted by this fear, That death will take one of their number, Before the close of another year. Or why Friday is called an unlucky day. No one has risen to explain. It is in line with ancient superstitions That still find lodgment in the brain. Thus we find many popular superstitions. Running parallel with our times, Not confined to any particular nation, Nor bounded b}^ any creeds or climes ; Learned divines may preach and reason, While educators may theories teach ; But deep-seated is the source of superstition. Beyond any human powers reach. MODERN AMERICAN POLITICS. iS» That there is an over-weening- desire To learn the unknowable — to be possessed Of that magic, powerful, talisman, On which we may build and rest. Then who can blot out this fatuous desire. That in itself may mean no harm, While not using Egyptian incantations. Resort to the pleasure of a charm? That there is a predominating influence, Is an accepted fact of sense ; Call it the rulings of a fate or fortune, Or designings of wise Providence, Still there remains that intuition, Which wields the power of a rod ; ' Tho' we may disclaim outward superstition. Yet in a niche may be the hidden god. Superstition may be the milder form. Of the heathenish pagan rites, When men reveled in total darkness. Without truth's redeeming lights. Yet now we can't wholly eradicate The traditions of years long ago ; ] For the blood of our once rude ancestors, : Must still in the veins of their children flow. But let us assume the role of a prophet: Times teachings will never efface The foolish but simple superstitions, That have been handed down to our race. But the best of good fortune awaits you. Who to the present time will give The best of his thoughts his time and attention, In solving the problem how to live. MODERN AMERICAN POLITICS. We don't mean decent politics, but the methods used by the "Bosses." Scholarship, ability or qualifications are not considered factors. 124 MODERN AMERICAN POLITICS. Is there a disagreeable nasty thing, That can never truly mix With good morals, law, or decency, It is the dirty game of politics. Misrepresenting is not considered wrong : Some cunning lie may be brought, To injure the opposition candidate, Before the canard can be caught. [ Men who may be square in other lines. Do not for a moment hesitate To do some underhand dirty work, For the "ring-chosen" candidate. ' , As in the uncertain games of love or war, I All means are considered fair, ( To knock the opponent broadside out. So that their fellow may get there. Men who will press each other's hand, Friendly congratulations extend. Who will outwardly act the part, Of, at least, a seeming friend, Will stab their rivals behind the back. Making a deep unfriendly cut ; He will vilify and soil and defame, If it does his mean purpose suit. M,en will many species of frauds commit, So that it oftentimes seems They work on the principle that tho' bad. The end will justify the means. When professional politicians make the "slate" Fair-minded citizens seldom win For they will not stand the vituperation That is so freely heaped on them. We speak of our ennobling civilization. Of our farmers and our fame; But when it comes down to politics, "What crimes are committed in thy name." The "Slough of Despond" was a mean place For any mortal his tent to fix ; But the abbmination of abominations. Is the Stygian pool of politics. NEGLECT NOT SMALL OPPORTUNITIES. 125 Universal suffrage is a sublime theme, Of which we never tire to write; But organized villainy forges ahead, And money "unseen," makes might. Professional politicians fix their slate ; The busy citizen pays no heed, Until some wretch disgraces the office, And then they create a rumpus, indeed. I once had a sleeping vision at night ; When awake, haunts my memory still : It was that of a politician seeking heaven, And the road was quite up hill. Now when he reached St. Peter's portal. His messenger did at once appear, Who gravely answered for his master ; "No politicians wanted here." NEGLECT NOT SMALL OPPORTUNITIES. 'You cannot reach heaven by a single bound ; The ladder by which you rise, You must ascend step by step, round by round. From the groveling earth to the vaulted skies." The all-wise Creator did never intend, That you should at once into prominence leap ; You must struggle to ascend the mountain crags. Before you arrive at the top of the rocky steep. You may still work on in your humble way ; Lurking lions for you in waiting may roar, Before you wear the laurels of fame. Or the higher places of eminence soar. The heroes of victories be they ever so small. Marching manfully along this trend, May encounter opposition and hardships too ; But they will surely win in the end. Opportunities small in no wise neglect; Each one makes a rung in the round. That will lead you up to position high. Whose foundations are deep in the ground. 126 NEGLECT NOT SMALL OPPORTUNITIES Despise not the day of opportunities small ; They as monitors will you prepare, For that public station that may you await, Perhaps in some president's chair. Do you intend to gain a position of honor. The bright laurels of victory take? An apprenticeship served in the proper way, For you a higher position will make. Many intelligent men in this our age, Awaiting the wheels of fortune to turn Up a golden spoon to eat their soup, Are drifting along while little they earn. But while they are waiting in 'durance vile," The sapper and miner with arms strong. Will capture the enemy's citadel ; On a flood-tide of glory be wafted along. My worthy, friend, you're an absolute failure, If you do not improve a small thing; For plodding, perseverance and energy. Will their reward to the warrior bring. Would you to your position superior rise. In ascending the mountainous height, You must toe each crag of the towering ledge, Before you stand on its summits bright. , ' Great men are not born above the clouds, But are on humbler ''terra firma" found; Those who have risen from hovel to palace, Are princes on whom men placed the crown. Is there a spark of ambition in your make-up? Is there in you any desire to rise? Now, is the time to build your ladder, That will reach from the earth to the upper skies. "You cannot reach heaven by a single bound," But work carefully as you build ; The upper dome reflects the golden light, And we admire its beautiful gild. We would not have you think that glory is all We want in this world to make us wise ; But steady application will build the ladder, By which you to fortune and fame may rise. DEGENERACY. 127 DEGENERACY— A Quatrain. It is sad degenerate nature asserts itself; This may not cause you much surprise, That sons of truly great and noble men, Run in the paths of folly ; wisdom's laws despise. THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. Adam was the only living creature. As runs the Scriptural saw, Who had this exception as a feature, That he had no mother-in-law. Who he got to fondle his babies, Will still a mystery remain ; He somehow failed in family training. For he raised up wicked Cain. Of the many truly despised creatures, In the history of our race. The ever ubiquitous mother-in-law. Holds quite a prominent place. It's a fact accepted the world round. On the camel's back the straw. That causes endless marital troubles is. The unhappy mother-in-law. We are often led to the conclusion When we dismal stories read, Of the scandals, crimes and miseries. That appalling are indeed, That with Josh Billings, we lament. That with mother-in-law, a thorn Of dissention woe and torment, was to Trouble her ofif-spring born. When the mariner launches out upon the sea. He must with storms contend. And tempestuous billows roaring high. That would his frail barque rend. So the youthful inexperienced husband, To whom the future bright may seem, Must guard against matrimonial breakers. Or will perish love's young dream. 128 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. The evil serpent still lurks in the garden, Hoping to blight the household fair; And men may yield just oft as women, To destroy the joy that's there. We cannot blame all attending evils That the fallen world ever saw, In destroying its peace and comfort. To the abused mother-in-law. Indispensable conditions are existing. Unhappy mortals must endure ; We sometimes consider a good an evil. And like fools go hunt a cure. So long as perverted human nature Remains of its present brand, So long will the mother-in-law question, Cease not to disturb the land. Alexander Selkirk in his island home, Was with his found man "Friday," free From interference of mother-in-law ; We presume they could happy be. This being a common-place world to live in, It is the part of wisdom's plan, If we must indulge in a mother-in-law, To treat her as well as we can. Making all allowance for human frailties, We should not always complain ; It is not well to subject the human tension, To an unnatural strain. The little matters that worry mortals, Of single or married school, Would be in a great measure abated, Would they mind the ''Golden Rule." Kind mothers forgive if aught we have said, Be tinged with what is untrue ; The mother-in-law has come to stay; We can find for her work to do. The shabby treatment they sometimes get. Caused by ingratitude deep, For love and respect are seldom theirs, Would cause an angel to weep. NEGLECT NOT SMALL OPPORTUNITIES. 129 You perhaps in your travels can find a wife, Whose mother died years ago; Then you will be free from her annoyance, If it should have caused you woe. But amidst life's humble or rich surroundings. Never this matter forget ; That we were troublesome tots of babies, Needing orr mothers sometimes yet. SUGGESTIVE THOUGHTS. We are living, we are working, In a world that seemeth strange ; The tide is going, ever flowing, All are subject unto change, And the beings we were formerly. Are scarce the same to-day ; Some of our old acquaintances, Are passing fast away. Their words were a welcome message. Our souls and hearts to cheer ; And their friendly counsel given. We ever shall hold dear. They were faithful worthy brothers, Whose lives were ever true ; And their solemn admonitions. May we ever keep in view. They have passed beyond the border. From the world's surging tide ; But we shall clasp their hand in friendship. When we reach the other side. Tho' we may not see them here below. Nor greetings extend again; Upon their epitaph may be written, "Their lives were not in vain." 'Tf we ever reach that port called heaven, Which we humbly hope we may," May we find each faithful brother. Who is working hard to-day. These unworthy lines are written, 130 THE WISEICRES'S SAYING. As a tribute to my friend, Wiho has ne'er gone back upon me, Whose friendship knows no end. THE WISEACRES'S SAYING— "I Told You So. There are people in the world who always know; They point to the fact — 'T told you so." They in their way are exceeding wise, They see with a single glance of their eyes ; And what they don't know, either great or small, Is scarcely worth the knowing at all. That man has gone wrong, did you not know? It has long been w'hispered^'T told you so." They have a magnifying glass to spy . The great big mote in their neighbor's eye ; Of the faults of their neighbor they much dilate ; Of their follies and vices they boldly prate ; And there's nothing that happens far or near. But their ears are bending to catch or hear. My neighbor's wife ran away, you know, I expected it long — 'T told you so." What a gratification to see ahead ; Have our plans and motives boldly read ; And our innermost doings hidden away. Brought forth to the gaze and light of day. It may tickle the world and gossipers, too, To' have our frailties portrayed to view ; But that it's expedient, I do not know; The wiseacres say — "I told you so." ^ - "eat number of things may be wicked and wrong, ?ught we can think of is worse than the tongu' aporings, mutterings never cease, - • our little domestic peace ; ^ .cdiing too sacred in this sphere, X ur it to besmirch, pollute or smear. There's a great surprise coming, you know. For the wiseacre says — "I told you so." The prophets are coming from Jericho, On their tongues they carry a tale of woe ; They have predicted the date and year. THE DYING ENGINP^ER. 131 In which our planet will disappear. Drawn up or down into fathomless space, So the dying orb will finish its race ; Or indulge in some pyrotechnics, you know ; Well, it didn't happen — "I told you so." We cannot tell the year of the world. This wise being into our planet was hurled ; But we presume it happened at an early year, That the wiseacre in his role did appear. The world would be lacking in news to-day, Were this important personage taken away; He is here to stay, let things come or go ; And will always repeat — 'T told you so." THE DYING ENGINEER. Poor lad, he stuck to his post, and did well ; His engine over the precipice fell, Into the torrent's whirling stream. Strangled by smoke and burned by steam, Oh,^ the horrible sulphurous breath ; Wedged in a cage and burned to death. Who can calmly view this horror, d'read, Relieve the living and care for the dead ? ''Come quick with help ! Oh, for God's grace. To help me out of this horrible place ! - Pray for my wife and child," he said : "Would to God that I now were dead !" God bless my child and loving wife." ''Won't somebody come and finish my life ?" "Have mercy upon me, come quickly, hie. And grant relief so that I may die." Before being rescued, his life he gave, Who often the lives of others did save. Was ever courage so truly gireat ? Pity, life must yield to such a fate ; And the manly spirit be put to rout ; A life be extinguished and thus put out. But sacrificed as thy life must be, The world owes a debt to such men as thee. 132 "HAKD TIMES." A widow in mourning standeth there, Wringing her hands and muttering prayer. "Without him I'm sad— ^broken-hearted within ;' "Would to God that it had not been/' How oft is repeated the story I tell, He stood at his post, did his duty well ; And when we bow at the hero's shrine, Our heairt-felt reverence shall be thine. "HARD TIMES." Yes, times are mighty hard they say : You hear this doleful strain. Wherever you go, where'er yon be, It seems a virtue to complain. This chronic disease Americans have ; To the grumblers a God-send ; 'They stop not to reckon their wasteful habits, Nor compute the amount they spend. Six hundred million are spent each year For the nasty Virginia weed ; They never consider tobacco too dear, A thing that they do not need. Some smoke and spitter and chew ; Their nervous system gives out ; To let up in this thing would never do ; They help to bring hard times about. Six hundred millions for luxuries each year. We to our harbors import ; American goods are too common, you knov^. For our millionaire swells to sport. Thus our treasury's drained of its gold ; Stagnation is seen on each hand ; The anomalous spectacle we behold, Of yielding our markets to foreign land. Some fifty thousand people attend the Handicap — bet on the race ; Thus twenty-five thousand they foolishly spend, Adding not one cent to the place. "HAED TIMES." 133 And the thousand-and-one faker games Has to them an attraction rare. Is it any wonder we have hard times, Or that pockets of cash are bare? Ten thousand or more taken out of the town ; A traveling circus comes along; Great crowds from the country are flocking, To see the menageries strong. The hard-earned dollars are thrown broad cast; In the hippodrome take a seat; But antics are better for the stomach far, Than bologna or pudding to eat. Soon spring time arrives, base ball ''booms ;" Christians of the plebeian sort, Will spend their time beholding the games, And bet their dimes on the sport. Do not accuse me of 'Turitan" talk when We speak of the sins of our age ; For madness and folly are born with men ; Their thoughts and attention engage. Railroad companies greedy of gain offer Inducements the Sabbath to break ; We see the well-equipped excursion trains. Their loads of passengers take. Thus pleasures votaries add each year To colossal fortunes built; But we must this reprove as immoral and bad, Adding crime to the nation's guilt. When will mortals learn the folly and sin Of throwing their money away ; It is prudence to save what little you can, To help in some "rainy day." This one great lesson Americans need, Which will pan out in the end : Salt some of your hard-earned money down, And not all on your vices spend. The times are dreadfully hard, men say; Why can you not make them better? Stop drinking and smoking a quarter a day ; Burst your chain like a fetter. 134 "NOT AVANTED." While I would not miserly men endorse, Be not to your vices a slave ; The amount you earn won't make you rich, But the sum you carefully save. Nations nor individuals cannot escape : For effect will follow cause ; For penalties dread will be fulfilled, For violated and broken laws. It may seem old-fogyish thus to speak ; My duty to me seems plain ; For temporal and eternal wealth, Are considered the richest gain. NOT wanted; We read in the heavens an ominous sign. Presaging the future portentous ; For business success and the issues of life, Are questions considered momentous. There are certain conditions we see in this world, Some others are taken for granted; But an ominous sign-board we read as we go, Tis that of life's fa^ilure ''Not wanted." Our fortunate star for the very last time, Up to- its meridian has risen ; Then it slowly recedes from the dome of the sky, When it disappears as a vision. And the enchanted and magical castle, The lamp of "Aladdin" in splendor. Is extinguished as spark from electric flame ; Disappears in a moment of wonder. The noon-time of life may have passed us by. Our star may be shining- in splendor ; But the storm-wrapt clouds in the western sky, Our pilgrimage dreary may render. The citadel proud to which we aspired. Before us lay in a valley enchanted : We read the sign on the gate swung shut, "No admission here — Not AVanted." "NOT WANTED." 135 Have we an innate ambition to reach tliat goal Where we heroes read of in story? To' benefit mankind by doing some work, That we may gain a portion of glory? But the opportunities by which we would rise. Are never more before us presented; We meander along as dull mortals will, For fate has our purpose resented. But those who stand on fame's lofty summit, No sign of their downfall portending May be suddenly thrust from this lofty mount; Be crushed in the rapid descending. And the myriads who worshipped them, Unstinted whose praises they chanted, Now place the notorious placard before them : 'Weighed and found wanting — Not Wanted." Be strong, O man, in your youthful days. While your sun may be brilliantly shining; For it rarely happens to a mortal's lot. To earn fame when his sun is declining. You may not be able to reform the world, But keep up a courage undaunted ; For it may not be any fault of your own, That for the present you may not be wanted. In this age of stir, competition and strife, Wlien men are like meteors falling On the tempestuous wave of a troubled sea. And no one will list to their calling. Put on your shield, gird your armor on ; Be not with vain imaginings haunted; You may victory gain tho' late in the day, Disregarding the sign — "Not Wanted." With wealth 3,nd prosperity men w^ill applaud you ; All will worship the golden idol. What you need to do is to beckon them toward you. And they will wear your collar and bridle; But when the world sits down on a man, Soon his banner of distress is flaunted ; The doom of Atlas was in comparison mild With the unfortunate man — "Not Wanted." 136 "WANTED." "WANTED.' A man with strong and steady aim, Fire beaming in his eye, With resolution in his heart, Religion from on high, To help to make the world better. As it swiftly moves along; Whose will and determination. Are powerful and strong. We want men of worth and knowledge, Of unexampled zeal, Who will stand the crucial testing. As the melted gold or steel. Jin whom when put in place or power, The people can confide ; For they shall still become the brighter, As sterling silver tried. Men of superior honesty, On whom you can depend. And trust them with your capital, Till time itself shall end. We want men of good character. Of reputation fond, WhO' will not lie nor steal, whose word Is better than their bond. We want men of temperate habits, WhO' have unyielding will, And by force of moral character. Detest the poisoned "still." For in this world of competition, There is a steady chase ; And none but the truly sober. May expect to win the race. We want men who are undaunted. Though their task seems quite hard; Who their souls for money will not barter, But for conscience have regard. TKUE HAPPINESS. 137 Who, when placed in high or low station, Will their whole duty do To their fellow and their country; Who are ever loyal, true. We want, finally men and women Who will stand for a good cause ; Will steady work for reformation. And the making of good laws. We advertise for such persons, Who can these positions fill ; If you in the world would make a mark, Come along with heart and will. TRUE HAPPINESS. ''The man that boasts, of golden stores. Of grain that loads his groaning floors, Of fields with freshening herbage green, Whose bounding steeds and herds are seen. I call not happier than the swain, Whose limbs are sound, whose food is plain ; Whose joy a blooming wife endears ; Whose house a smiling offspring cheers." Written by Solon an ancient Greek poet who lived before the time of Christ. Where shall true happiness be found In all this world's great circuit round. In all its ports so fair? Have ye yet gained the glittering prize The envy of all mortal eyes, That tempt men everywhere? Do' you, that wealth and gold possess. Have best of clothes wherewith to dress ; Earth's richest bounties give The pleasures that the rich enjoy Without the seed of grief's alloy, Know the secret how to live? 138 TKUE HAPPINESS. Do you, that hold the reins of power, Who d'oth hi^h above your fellow tower, Whom men' do oft entreat To any favor at your hands ; To grant them some of their demands. Enjoy life's blessings sweet? Do you, O man, who roves the seas Enjoying honors, life and ease. In cold or tropic zone, With all earth's pleasures at your feet In measured full abundance meet, Enjoy the sweets of home? Have you possessions great and vast, Your lot among the wealthy cast. Have men in your employ, Who are obedient to your will ; Who do your whispered orders fill- Do you this life enjoy? Are you avaricious, filled with greed, Having more in the world than you need; Still yet you're grasping more. And oppressing God's humble poor ; Thus piling- your wealth up more secure. Does happiness seek your door? The man, of humbler station here Who lives in his accustomed sphere, This goddess may caress. Who to life ma}' charmed blessings give, Making it a pleasure here to live, May this great boon possess. Life is not measured by length of days In efforts mean your wealth to raise, But simply what you do To raise fallen .mortals to the skies, To bade the weak and feeble rise ; The work of love pursue. HOW DO YOU TEE AT YOUR WIVES? 139 True happiness don't dwell with rank; The man having ponderous sums in bank, May be haunted with fear That the burglar having his plans well laid, May this his earthly treasure invade, When there is no one near. The man of habits pure and clean, Who lives up to the ''Golden mean," May not be rich or great ; But having cares that are quite few, He can hold on to happiness true, And tempt the god of fate. True happiness lies not in wealth ; But vigorous age and sturdy health, Are yours, my worthy friend. Then will kind heaven bless your lot, When you make good use of what you got ; ; This answers life's great end. HOW DO YOU TREAT YOUR WIVES? li a man does not treat his wife right I don't want to hear him talk of Christianity." — D. L. Moody. A pertinent question I ask, dear friend. It is opportune, proper and meet. Are you happily living in married life. And with common-place decency treat The woman whom you have plighted and won, And pledged high heaven before To cherish and love all others above. To live for, support and adore? When men are Christians we can find out ; Not by seeing their outward lives, But the innermost truth may come to light, By consulting their patient wives. Not that, we think the hidden skeleton Of the house should be laid bare ; But men who shabbih^ treat their wives, Shouldn't be respected anywhere. 140 HOW DO YOU TEEAT YOUR WIVES? We do not think that women all are angels, Because their plumage may be bright ; They may fail to secure that recognition Which should be theirs of right. But in ninety cases out of hundred, The wrong's on the masculine side ; For in woman's heart there rests a feeling, Her woes from the world to hide. I But that hideous being of a man who Is a hypocrite in his heart, Who wears the brazen mask of deception, , Is a duplicate creature in part ; ' The meanest and most contemptible thing, That the planets to-day disclose, Is the man who dishonors married life. No true sense of decency knows. We want more piety in our homes. More manliness that is true ; Christian morals that speak for themselves. Bringing character into view. A Christianity that brightens our homes, ■ 'As the glare of the noon-day sun. Blending hopey'faith and religion. Into a true harmonious one. We want more cheerfulness in our homes ; More of friendship's tranquil air. That displaces the gloom of clouds opaque. Scattering sunshine everywhere. We need more happiness in our homes, Where now there appears a dearth. Why should the place we call our homes. Be the dreariest spot on earth? 'Tis a burning disgrace on civilization, A never^to-be wiped out shame. That a man will slight a virtuous wife. For some silly wanton dame. This pertinent question, I now repeat. Most important one of your lives : If your soul is not dead tO' all sense of shame, You will honor and love your wives. HOW DO YOU TREAT YOUR MEN? 141 HOW DO YOU TREAT YOUR MEN?— A Sequel. Ladies, I ask you an opportune question, That concerns nine out of ten; That strikes at the root of true happiness. How do you treat your men ? That the man is the lord of the household. We do not for a moment deny; That he is not with perfection crowned. We do not stop to answer why. If women did sin in Eden's bower, And had therefrom to retire, She is still a ministering angel. Whom both gods and men admire. . . She was never meant for an inferior When placed below, by Adam's side. What is more beautiful under heaven, Than the pure and virgin bride? The woman is mistress of the household ; 'Tis her province there to control, Where religion and virtue, hand in hand. Are the hand-maids of the soul ; Where the science of culinary art Ministers to the inner man, Catering to the wants of the appetite, As the good wife only can. The recording angel down hath written, That you promised to be true, As he hath forsaken the realm of women. To live for and cherish you. You have more power than St. Peter has, With his emblematic keys ; Yours is the power to rule by love. To conquer and to please. Your companion may be wed to some vice; But neglect no means to win Him from a life that leads to crime. And the penalties sad of sin. 142 GENTLEMAN GROUND-HOG. Remember before your gray hairs appear, Or you are prematurely old, That no man is ever changed in habit, Whose wife is a common scold. We admire the home where happiness dwells, A fount of congenial bliss, Pouring its streams on the family circle ; Earth hath no joys like this. But we in heart and soul abominate The fire of eternal feud. Where the woman's tongue like a razor keen, Almost cuts into flesh and blood. There is a sacred injunction spoken of, It were well for all to obey ; Life is too short to be spent in squabbles, Or in never-ceasing fray, Pray to gracious heaven for that power, That will be given only when, You do not yield in an evil hour, But rightly treat your men. GENTLEMAN GROUND-HOG. Respectfully dedicated to his hogship February 2d, 1895. Gentleman ground-hog, how do you do. How are your friends, and how are you? How are your folks and grand-children dear? Have you any news from your lower sphere? Do you ever hear the church-bell toll, S'n^e you left the world — crawled into your hole? Ha ■ ^ou any strange under-ground news to tell? Are ii feeling- happy, good and well? I si : vQu're not feeling slick and fat, No: ^ ;ar coat as smooth as an old greased hat. I have not been down there, yet I know Your kitchen is bare — not even crow To fill your stomach with needed meat, Or aught that is rich and good to eat. But the fact remains, you still are found, A happy family living under the ground. (tENTLEMAN ground-hog. 143 You have descended from the good old time, When the Indian occupied our freezing clime ; And the squatting squaw with her small papoose Around the wig-wam fire — her lord no use, Had to cook the wood-chuck and build the fire, And do all the chores for her lazy sire, While the painted Indian with bow and dog Made relentless war on the poor ground-hog. But our gentleman ground-hog is a prophet old, Making the weather sometimes zero cold. February 2d, he comes out to celebrate. Without proclamation, or any fuss great. If the day seems clear from pole to pole. He turns about and pops into his hole ; And there he will in contentment stay. Till another six weeks have passed away. Our ground-hog has no dyspepsia, he takes no pills Or paregoric, makes no big doctor bills ; But yet, he is believed to lead a happy life ; He was never known to be divorced from his wife. Whether he lives married, or a bachelor, well The writers of history do not, or cannot tell. As a staid old philosopher content with his lot. He never murmurs for what he hasn't got. Neither he, nor his father, nor his mother's son Cares a fig for Avhat is done at Washington ; Or whether our legislators makes good laws^ O'r the Japanese gain in the Orient's cause. Or whether "Tariff" or "finance" shall meet mishap, Our gentleman ground-hog don't care a snap. If the Cleveland crew sinks to the bottom of the sea, He is still as funny as a ground-hog can be. I admire the ground-hog, his family to boot ; He is never too proud to wear an American suit ; And his wife lives as simple as any one can. For she never buys dress to bankrupt the old man. iVltho' he's a squatter, none grudge him his home. For he takes things contentedly just as they come. While America stands, let things change as they may, We shall always be glad to see ground-hog day. 144 EGBERT BURNiS. He is independent and simple in taste. To defend his home, he always makes haste ; He never asks credit, nor yet gets in debt ; His "bank-stock" has ne'er been exhausted yet. His voice is not musical as the nightingale's song, Yet, we wish him prosperity, life that is long. Hail native citizen ! health to your mate. You never take whiskey, either crooked or straight. ROBERT BURNS— The Scotch Poet. "King David O' poetic brief Wrought aniang the lassies sic mischief And bloody rants ; And yet he's ranked amang the chief, O' lang sine Saunts." "And now be Tam, for a' my cants. My wicked rhymes and drucken rants, I'll gie auld cloven clooties haunts An unco slip yet, And snugly sit amang the saunts At Davie's hip yet." Original from Burns. We to mankind this truth declare True poets in the world are rare ; Yet in old Scotia's land so fair. On January morn, A man of genius, passion, taste. Into this world was born. Untutored sang our worthy bard ; By poverty oppressed quite hard. Without much hope of earth's reward. Held in bondage dread ; The curse of rum, his genius marred, Yet to fame and honor wed. In the great realm of human kind. When the grand Architect Divine, In His creation did assign A place for man here. He outlined the way to greatness, Each in his proper sphere. ROBERT BURNS. 145 But doth each age and country tell, How men great and good and noble fell By drink, the accursed fiend of hell; The wrecks of fleeting time, Are seen as mountains towering high With genius once sublime. The man that's born to titles great, Hereditary, pomp, estate, May be consigned by stubborn fate. To be a creature small, Wlhile true-born manhood, sure will rise, A star o'er-looming all. "What though on hamely fare we dine," Wear clothes not rated extra fine, The glittering jewels of the mind Will conspicuously appear. More valued than regal robes divine, Of fools in royal gear. "Farewell old Scotia's bleak domains," Her frozen hill-sides, snow}^ plains. On ''Highland Mary" still remains Our poet's song; Long as her braes and heathery hills, Their notes prolong. "To gain "Dame Fortune's" golden smile, Many have to wait a long, long while. And travel many a thousand mile. To woo the fickle god ; And yet stern disappointment meet. And fail to gain her nod. "Ye banks and braes and streams around, Green be your swards and flowers found ; Our poets' warmth and love abound, In immortal lines ; Unborn millions yet shall read them. Beyond Scotia's confines. 146 ''FOE A' THAT." "King- David O' poetic brief" Israel's King and singer chief, '■ In amours wrong had come to grief, For which he did repent ; In bosoms of the grandest men, The thorn of vice is sent. We admire the genius of the man, Whose aims are noble, true each plan ; And would his frailties lightly scan, It being understood, We best subserve great virtue's cause, In showing what is good. "Oh Scotia ! my dear, my native soil," Land of his labors, humble toil ; The lyric tunes none can despoil ; "The Cotter's Saturday Night," Does in the "Book of Life" thy name enroll, And keep thy honor bright. "From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs;' The simple bard still lives while many kings Have come and gone as useless things ; From mind have passed away ; But in glory's immortal shining tablets. Thy name is writ to stay. Dear land of Knox and Bobbie Burns, Mankind thy frailties sadly mourns ; Yet in retrospect the memory turns, To a star obscured full soon ; Peace to' thy ashes as they sweetly slumber. On thy banks o' Bonnie Doon. "FOR A' THAT"— By Burns. "Is there for honest poverty That hangs his head and a' that? The coward slave we pass him by We dare be poor for a' that, "HIGHLAND MARY." 147 For a' that and a' that. Our toils obscure and a' that ; The rank is. but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gfowd for a' that." "HIGHLAND MARY"— By Burns. For the benefit of many who do not possess Burn's poems, we insert the above verbatim. This with the "Cotter's Saturday Night," is among the best of this author. "Ye banks and braes and streams around The castle o' Montgomery ; Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie. There summer first unfurled her robes And there they langest tarry ; For there I took the last farewell, O' my sweet Highland Mary." "How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk; How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade, I clasped her to my bosom. The golden hours on angel wings. Flew o'er me and my dearie ; For sweet to me as light and life. Was my sweet Highland Mary." "Wi' mony a vow and locked embrace. Our parting was fu' tender ; And pledging aft to meet again. We tore ourselves asunder ; But oh ! fell death's untimely frost, That nipped my flower sae early ; Now green's the sod, and cauld the clay. That wraps my Highland Mary." "O, pale, pale now those rosy lips, I aft hae kissed sae fondly; And closed for aye the sparkling glance. That dwelt on me sae kindlv. 148 COMMON SENSE. ''And mouldering now in silent dust The heart that loved me dearly ; But still within my bosom's core, Shall live my Highland Mary." COMMON SENSE. Have you of learnings store immense, The ''quantum suf," of common sense, A lamp that guides your way? The brightest gem of ray serene, A ruby fit to adorn a queen ; Not ostentation gay. Keen wit may burn and flash awhile ; But soon die out as a ruined pile, While satire may cut keen ; Sarcasm may thrust its poisoned dart, And strike its arrows to the heart; Do a thousand things that's mean. Your perceptions are full rounded out ; You know just what you are about; Your sixth sense comes to view ; Yet the business world may not love Your course, nor yet in fact approve, The mean things that you do. You have high sense, a finished tone ; You walk in the upper empyrean zone ; The humbler realms you scorn ; Conceit with empty fulsome arrogance, May carry you safe thro' the "mystic dance," But your livery may be torn. A low sense will manliness check, And may you not with laurels deck ; Yet you' need not condescend. To men that's low, or of vile estate. For certainly may the swervings of fate, Lead to an ignoble end. COMMON SENSE. 149 One mail may have of brains a peck ; Another in volume may greatly lack. Not born with genius high ; The eagle may boast of its victory sure, Yet may be outrun by the tortoise poor, If he will but only try. Have you not seen the successful man, Who carried out each well-laid plan, Without money immense ; Who had no capital at command, Nor friends to lend a helping hand ; He had good common sense? The lowly Elisha in ages past, Had Elijah's mantle o'er him cast; His solid sense had won ; The Jordan's wave was rent in twain ; The man of God passed over again. As had his predecessor done. Ransack history's pages thro' and thro' ; The men of common sense appear to a- iew ; Caesar the Rubicon crossed ; The aristocratic tyrants at Rome's head. In utter dismay and confusion fled ; Roman freedom was not lost. In all our planet's broad domains, Men of all nations, of all strains, An advantage have immense ; Tho' born not to titles or great wealth. Belittling snobbery ; but own health Deduced from common sense. The world is lacking much to-day In men who preach and men who pray, Who would be over-smart ; Whose intellectual teeming powers. Fall as drops from evening showers, While vileness fills the heart. 150 TRUli: POLITENESS. If there is a gift more than divine, That elevates all human kind ; Blessings flow from thence; The man tho' poor is crowned with might, In whom men and angels take delight, Who has but common sense. TRUE POLITENESS— "The Manners Make the Man.' True politeness marks the gentleman, As the manners make the man; The hand-maid of education, It is nature's royal plan. Affectation is to all disgusting; Too much sweetness clogs the taste ; Simplicity and naturalness. Are virtues that will last. True politeness longest weareth ; The bright and evening star, Shines forth in modest splendor From her orbit distant far ; So this lustrous virtue among mortals, Will continue still to shine, Illuming earth's darkened bowers. As with a radiance divine. True politeness is like a diamond, A grace to own and wear ; For it marks the personality. With the gleam of sunshine fair. Of what value is that ornament, Or so-called diadem. If it lacks the intrinsic value, That gives richness to the gem? Great stores of wit or learning. May sometimes fortunes build ; Costly cathedrals rich emblazoned. May display a brilliant gild. A magnificent spectacle they appear To the enraptured eyes ; But if the foundations be built on sand, That builder was not wise. TKUE POLITENESS. 151 When true politeness decks the person, Nature's fond charms appear To envelop with a halo sweet and tender, Those who are in truth sincere. The greatest riches bring no pleasure To the man who is a boor, Who, lacking the virtue of politeness. Is indeed, a being poor. True politeness cannot nauseate. Nor its sweet memories fade ; Like the tree of Life, fruit you may gather. All times beneath its shade. Shall we speak of myriad graces Clad in most bright array? Void of the stamp of true politeness, How seeming vain are they. A word of politeness costs no money, A smile can do no harm ; For friendship extended to a stranger, May breed attentions warm. If the world could but eliminate, The many hard things said, Our globe would appear in brighter hue; Not tears, but smiles instead. Our teacher once gave us a copy. And we use it in this case : "Learning", wit, grace and manners, Will fit a man for any place." We need not study a Chesterfield, Nor ponderous volumes learn For instruction ; politeness is the pivot, On which our fortunes turn. We pity the boorish creature, Who snarls at all in sight ; Making all around him suffer. Seems to be his great delight. Blest be the cheerful countenance, That sheds its beams of grace ; When true politeness rules at home, we Know of no more pleasant place. 152 WANTED— ADVICE. WANTED^ADVICEl A teamster trudging along the road, Had a cart that carried a heavy load; He struggled masterly with a will ; His cart stuck in the mud, stood stone still ; His animal rested and there he stood. For whipping and cursing would do no good. His cart-wheel had stopped, so had the tire; He stood completely tied up in the mire. It was but a short time till a motly crowd. Gathered around him and speaking loud. Some exercised sympathy seasoned with talk, Others thought that a horse should never balk. One stepped up to him, a gentleman nice, And tendered the teamster a bit of advice : ''If I had a horse and a cart down here, I would draw a long breath and blow in his ear." A drummer stood by in whose hand was a grip : "Why don't you give him the weight of the whip ; I do no coaxing my horses will thrive, For I am their master and know how to drive." Up stepped a humane agent, looking quite wise : "When my horses don't go, I bandage their eyes ; He can't stay there always, he surely will start. If you hitched him to the other end of the cart." A drover spoke up who was sleek and well-fed ; "When my horse takes a tantrum, I reach for his head; And if he won't come, the next thing I propose, Is to read him a lecture and tickle his nose." A huckster then advanced a plan that won't fail; Says he, "try the device of screwing his tail ; Then, if he don't kick, advance or retire, I build a pile under him and light it with fire." "Get out of the way, you sympathy crowd" Said two sailors advancing, in accents loud, "It is help, not advice, the poor man needs now ; The craft's on a reef, both stern and bow; NOTHING SUCCEEDS LIKE SUCCESS. 153 Clear out you advisers, 'tis help that he needs ; Your acts, not your words, give weight to your deeds. Companion, right here, your shoulder put to the wheel ; Now, she's coming aloft from stern to keel." "Thank you," said the teamster for service, twice ; A pound of help is worth a ton of advice." Advice is a commodity, all have to spare. While one in a thousand, solid help will share. So the man with the cart moved along the road ; The lesson that he learned, did him some good. ''After sober reflection," said he, "I now understand, Ten thousand advise you, while one lends a hand." The world is full of vile nostrums and quacks. Of ante-deluvians, crabs and mossbacks, Who owe to advancement an unpaid debt ; And the question arises, are they civilized yet? While much of this world they try to secure, They would much rather kick than help the poor. But of all the mean devils, be they ever so nice. He's most to be spurned who gives nought but advice. NOTHING SUCCEEDS LIKE SUCCESS. There were two bright boys and it came to pass. They stood in College in the same class ; By dint of perseverance and industry too. They stood side by side the whole year through. Finally, the ''Alma Mater," proud of each son. Them parchments gave for honors won ; So as far as the human mind could trace, Their prospects were equal in life's race. When the Rebellion liad at Fort Sumpter begun, Had fired on the Union flag its gun. President Buchanan whose sympathies were With the South, did not try or dare To suppress treason, however rank or great. Or coerce what he called a "Sovereign State" President Lincoln could see no settlement, Except that of war's arbitrament. 154 NOTHING SUCOEEDSlIllE SUCCESS It was then two worthy y-outlis at College, Who had acquired some useful knowledge, Took up. arms for the Union cause^ In defense of its institutions and laws; - Who fought we understand in the same regiment ; The rebels their missiles round them thickly sent. But they both lived till the war was o'er, And we give you their history furthermore. The one took up the ministerial cause; The other became a lawyer posted in laws. The first moved away to a country town. Dispensing the Gospel where sinners are found ; The other succeeded, not unusual or rare ; The voters placed him in the assemblyman's chair. Honors were thrust upon him, he soon became great ; The people him made governor of the state. The parson, a mediocre sort of a man, , Still diffused and taught the Gospel plan ; But it seemed kind fortune hirh did not wed ; Labor he ever so hard, he could not forge ahead. Or endeavor as he would, in his heart aspire. The star of his fortune never seemed to rise higher; In his own humble way, he kept drifting along. None regarding him as a minister strong. But the governor known o'er the breadth of the land, His presence and speech are in constant demand ; And multitudes gather and shout and rejoice, Becoming enraptured at the sound of his voice. Whatever^he may say in a brief interview, Is telegraphed the country through and through ; The people of the nation, him their choice did declare; Now he occupies his place in the president's chair. One was born to fortune we all must confess ; The other worked hard but achieved not success. One stands on the apex of glory's high zone, While the other remains a factor unknown ; His ambition is vaulted — no higher can go ; His com-patriot stands high while he remains low. If the former utters a whisper, the nations will hear, While the latter so poor that none will revere. ADVANTAGES OF AGE. 155 There's a mysterious influence over us that we Can no more control than the waves of th^ sea. Let us strive as we may we cannot reach the hill Of renown or eminence, but must linger still In shadows of lowliness among our compeers ; However high our aims there always appears An influence to hamper, to hinder or mar; . ■ , We no more can ascend than a fallen star. .. The one has high honors strewn at his feet ; His fame and his laurels seem nearly complete ; He rides in grand style in the President's car, Waiting crowds greet him both near and far. Our parson is barren of the world's applause ; He remains the uncrowned ''Doctor of Laws.'' There is a divinity that shapes mortal clay. As Shakespeare says, ''rough-hew it as we may." If men reach the summit of ambition great. It is the workings of providence and not fa,te. Some men will arise, and wear honor's crown, While for others there seems no place to be fotind; Their star of success in the noon-day fair Sinks below the horizon, no more to appear. But the world still applauds, nevertheless. The man who gains the goal of success. ADVANTAGES OF AGEr^By Cicero. His leading thoughts are here versilied and reproduced. So far from a state of indifiference and languor, In no grand active work engage, We behold the activity and earnestness Of a vigorous old age. And youth's favorite occupation, A maxim ever true appears, Will still continue, to exert itself In our life's declining years. And the acquisition of some art or science, In youthful times we sought. By vigorous work and application, I Will have been to perfection brought. 156 ADDENDA. Thus Solon in advanced age had written, Consider it ye who may; ~ That age was not barren of its glory ; "He learned something every day." The advantages of age are inestimable In another point of view : We are now relieved from the tyranny, Of lust and ambition too. From the angry contentious passions ; ; From inordinate desire, That consumes and burns its victims, As with a raging fire. 5 We, in our own bosoms look for happiness, \ To retire ourselves within ; For as life's evening sunshines ling-er. Its million glories just begin, If to these moral benefits resulting, From the length of added days, Be added that sweet food of mind now gathered. From fields of science honored ways. I know not that life has any better lesson. Which can mortal man engage. To know that on life's steps declivity, He possesses a virtuous old age. And when he recedes beneath the horizon, And his orb is bathed in night. He shall appear far more conspicuous. On the famed Olympus' height. Notes. — Cicero was born, io6 B. C, and taken all in all, for his eloquence, for his learning, for his true patriotism, he stands forth among the very brightest of ancient names. "Mount Olympus," the seat on which Jupiter built his courts, reigning over heaven and earth. ADDENDA— To Last. L, envoi. All honor to the head that is hoary ; Peace shall its latter days crown, While virtue and truth, the armor of glory. Will shield as the sun goeth down. THE POEl'S AMBITION, 157 Then wrapt in the mantle of fabric immortal, In a country where sunshine e'er gleams, He shall open the door of heaven's own portal, Far removed from the shadow of dreams. THE POET'S AMBITION. He was an humble unknown poet, Yet there was written on his brow The word ''immortal" in bright letters ; You can pause to read it now. Please do not scorn his humble efforts, Because of innate prejudice; For as low stars rise to the zenith. He will surmount all slights like this. Posthumous glories, he don't covet. When heaped upon the mound, Under which he at last may moulder. Beneath the moist cold ground. Oh, what avails this pomp and pageantry, Of obsequious honors shown. That were denied to him while living; But given when he is gone. The world is filled with countless volumes. Some ancient, antique, sage ; While some have written themes disgusting, A curse to each succeeding age. And oft bright "gems of ray serene," The quintessence of pure thought. May while the poor author's living, Be appreciated not. Popular subscriptions may be gathered For the writer of some old song ; The meed of homage once denied him, May be granted ages long After he to dust has crumbled, Become a brother of the clod ; A monument is raised o'er-looking, His form beneath the sod. 158 , " "THE NEAV WOMAN." We need not be burdened with this reflection, On our degenerate race, That present glories are evanescent, And may change with time and place. An urn may contain the ashes of a man Whom the world' did fondly greet, Piling honors high upon him. And reclining at his feet. ! [ ', The world is filled with jealousies. Born of base passion, pride ; Praise that should be accorded fully, Is by envious men denied. And why then raise this slab of marble. Pointing upward to the skies ? .: Write upon it : "Praise denied while living," Now, posthumous honors rise. I have one inordinate ambition, The poet, smiling said : ' Grant me^a srnall share of recognition. Before I'm numbered with the dead. Mankind, I now' this notice serve upon you. If you me this privilege allow ; If I have written a thought of inspiration. Please give^me credit for it now. ''THE; NEW WOMAN.' Since the days our grandma's lived, The women are not the same; Instead of the good old fashioned matron, We have now the modern dame. The brand ney/ woman has appeared On the ,n,ewspaperial,page ; For all old things have passed away, In our fast and bustling, age. Old maid conventions talk of "suffrage ;" The fact stares us plainly now. We have the maudlin maid in bloomers. Whose mother milked the cow. CONTRAST 159 ,The modern well-built bicycle, A long-felt want has filled ; Astride, arrayed in baggy bloomers, Sits our modern damsel skilled. The athlete plys his avocation By performing in his tights ; But we must yield the palm to women, Who are preaching for their ''rights." Clear the way, old bachelor fogies, A march on you she steals ; If you must deny her right to vote, " ' You cannot impede her wheels. The large family now is a nuisance; Our new woman has no charms In her make-up for numerous children, Squalling and hanging to her arms, She has no spare time to train them up ; She must her whole time employ In studying up the fashion plates ; To her life is only joy. ^^Will she condescend to bring up (^hI^ren ? "Don't talk about it ! not much. This is something she leaves entirely To the Irish and the Dutch. In the great round of pleasure's dissipation, And at society's demands, To attend to noisy hungry children. Finds no favor at her hands. CONTRAST. Our race of mothers gone to heaven, Thought it no great disgrace To work to rear their numerous children; Each one in their hearts had place. Many and arduous were the struggles. And griefs they had to bear; ' ' But in their hearts they loved their children. Bestowing on them love and care. l^ ADDENDA. The children then looked like their fathers, A copy of their mother, too ; For she didn't train with several husbands, As some of our later women do. When we think of the ancient fire place. She still sits on memory's shrine ; She carried out the laws of her being, Obeying the Creator's laws divine. A queen sits no prouder than a mother. Who has blessed her humble home With a group of well-trained children, From whom the nation's heroes come. But neither filial love nor honor Awaits, it can be truly said, The woman who never bears children, To weep o'er her tomb when dead. ADDENDA. In their anatomical construction, In the cut of their jaw or jib. We believe they have descended from Adam, And made from the same old rib. But laying aside these old revelations, She is born now to compete ; And perhaps our generation of suitors, May think her just as sweet. We would not cast any mean aspersion On those born at later date ; "Times have changed, we have changed with them,'' Such is our transient mortal state. Still we think the proper sphere for women, And we hope she may ever rise. Is in the God-ordained home institution, Wherein all true happiness lies. TRUTH. 161. TRUTH. Truth unadorned is adorned most of all. — Author. "Magna est Veritas, et prevalebit." Translation — "Truth is mighty and will prevail." In speaking, my friend or untutored youth, Use facts that are plain — unvarnished truth, Rather than dissimulation fine ; Walk by this rule that is always straight, If you ever would be trusted or great ; Measure your course by this line. It may seem smart to prevaricate, Sharp to deceive and dissimulate, A mask of deception wear; The principles of truth are always sound, Eternal, immutable, unchangeable found, Plucked from heaven's own garden fair. How shall we deck the lily that grows. Enamel the matchless tints of the rose? Or in Hesperides' garden fair, Clothe the golden apples in richer hue ; Or paint the skies in a lovelier blue. In the stratas deep of the upper air? Can we lovelier make the tints of the morn Where the steeds of Jove are as racers borne. Their millifluous lights display? Can we improve on the infinite plan. That eternal intelligence gave to man, For truth will shine to the perfect day? We rejoice in the heaven-born precept sublime, That has stood o'er the wrecks and ruins of time ; Can no more than the firmament fall ; We cannot deck truth with a gorgeous design. That would make it more elegant look or fine ; For truth unadorned shines best of all. 162 TRUTH. The ancient philosophers counted as wise, The touch-stone of truth did relish and prize, Though oft persecuted they were ; And the world to-day old thousands of years, Its searching light still shuns and fears ; For truth strips all sophistry bare. Part of the world in error still rears its head, And woiild its pestilential errors spread, Assuming the truth to teach ; While tyranny grim with despotic power, May with a rod of iron rule for an hour, And blasphemous doctrines teach. But these shall all with a hurricane sweep, Be hurled down to the bottomless deep; Divine prophecy hath us told, That falsehood must fall to rise no more ; For truth shall cover the continent's o'er; Its teachings increase a thousand fold. The sceptre of truth is on the universe arch ; Its glories shine forth in its conquering march. On the wings and the armor of Jove; The armies of heaven and earth exultingly sing, The victorious march of this conquering King; For truth is emblazoned in heaven above. No pencil can paint, nor yet brush portray A straighter line — a more perfect way, To the celestial boulevard broad ; For truth is a pearl that stands alone, Like an emerald bright bedecking the throne. Emitting sparks from the throne of God. Notes. — "Hesperides" — Three nymphs, daughters of Hesperus, who guarded the golden apples which Juno gave to Jupi- ter. "Jove" — The name of the Supreme Deity among the Romans. Here it means the Almighty. "Em- blazoned" — Adorned with figures of heraldry. "Boule- vard" — A public walk along a street. "Truth" — Con- formity to fact or reality, Webster. "My mouth shall speak truth, Prov. 9 chap. "It must appear that malice bears down truth," Shakespeare. PITTSBURG, PA. 163 PITTSBURG, PA. 'A great city reigning- like a queen from her dominant seat at the headwaters of the Ohio." — Hon. John Dalzell, Rep. Pittsburg standing ahead of all competitors, In her transcendent beauty is seen ; At the headwaters of the mighty Ohio, She sits as a reigning queen. Her furnaces emitting clouds of smoke, Give a tinge of darkness to the place ; Her thousands of workmen in arts skilled, May sometimes be seen with a sooty face. Into her lap an extended commerce, Now pours from far and distant climes; Her natural resources and boundless wealth. Are the marvelous features of the times. The products of her shops, field, forest and mine, A constant stream into her channels pour; And the products of her fire and forge, Are sent to the earth s remotest shore. All that ministers to the tastes and necessities. And the civilization of our age. Are found here in great profusion ; and men In all the arts and sciences engage. Here are beautiful homes of wealth and comfort. Which the humblest laborer may attain ; The millionaire capitalist gives to the laborer That wages by which he wealth may gain. Here science and modern invention thrive ; The road that leads to honor and to wealth. Is open to the poor but struggling genius ; For honest fame is not acquired by stealth. Here religion and education reign supreme ; Greece in her better palmier days, Could; not boast of such magnificent temples. As we now for our children raise. 164 ENOCH ARDEN. Old time methods are now superseded, By applied electricity and steam, Compelling the elements to do us service, Which ancient philosophers did not dream. This is our boast and crowning glory, That we our children train and educate In the best schools of literature and science, Which tend to mak; We prophesy, her ship canal will 3^et be built, Great engineering triumph of modern days ; Her commerce be increased a thousand fold. Adding thus fresh laurels to her bays. Her past is a part of our nation's history. Which must forever remain secure ; Also, her pre-eminence and greatness in the future, Will, as a natural result, endure. And the patriotic "State of Allegheny," Of which our martyred president spoke. Can manufacture goods for every nation ; And will wear no foreign manufacturer's yoke. True — she tastefully sits as a dominant city. Gracefully attired, a reigning queen ; The moral grandeur of her men and women. Is in her established institutions seen. No foolish boast, this of pre-eminence. Which God and nature hath made ours ; Her natural resources stand unlimited. Likewise her genius and inventive powers. Proud that we are a citizen of no "mean city." We speak in prophetic tones and loud. That now in traveling we may rival the wind. Yet may mount our chariot on the cloud. ENOCH ARDEN— In a New Role. Some years ago in a far Western town, It being generally understood, There lived a seeming prosperous man, Whose-credit was rated eood. ENOCH ARDEN. 165 He was the husband of a lovely wife, And a beautiful daughter too ; To outward appearance his dutiful wife, Was the possessor of happiness true. One fine star-lit night, he left the town — Did very suddenly disappear, Taking with him everything in reach. Excepting his wife and daughter dear. It then leaked out he creditors had. From whom he had borrowed cash; With a feeling of fury they beat themselves, And their teeth did fiercely gnash. The wife and daughter were destitute left By this fiend in human form ; They had not a dollar left in the world. To protect them from the storm. The world looked with suspicion upon them. And treating them in a manner cold ; That they were not depressed nor cast down, You will know when my story is told. The mother most earnestly went to work, With fine courage, undaunted will ; And the heroic daughter possessed of pluck, Resolved to retrieve her lost fortune still. They .prospered as they deserved to do; The- mother set up a store ; The daughter became a school principal ; Their wealth returned once more. They showed the world they were not to blame, For their sadly fallen rank ; They soon had money to supply their needs, Besides having account in bank. By dint of courage, struggle and effort. They surely deserved tO' win ; And proved to the cold indififerent world, The cause of their fall was not their sin. Let us now resume the thread of our story. Which now appears proper and meet ; A seedy tramp called at this lady's door, And begged for something to eat. 166 MY FORTUNE. The good woman at him intently looked, And what did her greatly surprise, The long lost husband she saw in the tramp, Whom she at once did recognize. Now the practical part of my story comes in. Did she weep o'er the prodigal wild, And take him back to her loving embrace, As in the case of a long lost child? And did! she haste to slay the fatted calf, Prepare music and dance and feast. To welcome the prodigal husband of former years, Whom she now had expected least? Not by a jug-full — She had more sense ; And sternly bade him to flee, While she called the faithful family dog, Which pursued him up a tree. So the ungrateful wretch hied him away, Whom the world doth loathe and' scorn ; Dread retribution brought justice at last, And a vagabond wanders forlorn. MY FORTUNE. Why consult all oracles here below? What is good for me I'll surely know. My fortune is not found afar, In the situation of any star. Perhaps we mortals may find some boon. Some where beneath the sun or moon ; But where can I in the universe find, That undiscovered wealth of mine? What soothsayer can to me reveal The beauties of some Elysian field. Where my hopes in luxuriant verdure grow Whose ripened fruit I may some day know? And the fortune good of which I dream, May be realized — in abundance team ; And the fame in prospect, for which I pine. An actuality — may be mine. MY FORTUNE 167 There's a fortune for you and me, no doubt, If we go to work and carve it out ; And the shapeless mass of unpolished stone, May be as a thing of beauty hereafter known. In the sculptured image an angel appears, That is celebrated thro' all coming years ; What once appeared an unshapely mass. Stands a model of beauty in its class. You may look for life into fortune's cup, Still hoping for something to turn up ; And spin around dame fortune's wheel, Till your judgment's sick and your senses reel; Vain fortune tellers and seers consult, With unsatisfactory, poor result; You may thus proceed till time shall cease ; Fortune will not be found in any of these. The only true recipe that I find, (Why grope for the goddess of fortune blind), Is to go into the struggle with might and main, And your every nerve and energy strain. By manfully striving, forging ahead. Taking the lead of others and not be led ; Then, if you find not fortune, or it finds not you. Discard what I've said as being untrue. The way to fortune is no royal road, Upon which are palatial sums bestowed ; But it may lead over some rock's abyss. The mountainous crag or the precipice ; But whether it is craggy, smooth or rough, Swerve not from your cause — it is not enough To look back and obstructions count ; You can, if you will these things surmount. If this short lesson I read you totally fail, Upon your drowsy soul for a moment prevail ; If you are made out of poor and worthless clay, Only fit to be kicked out of the way ; If there's not a noble sentiment in your soul. No care for distinction's final goal. Then I must finish with the sad refrain ; You're dead while living, your life's in vain. 168 NATURAL FOOLS. NATURAL FOOLS. Some men are natural born fools, Whom neither sense nor reason rules ; They have a modicum small of brains, Over which they hold no patent reins. They may endeavor to soar up high, As the lordly eagle in the sky ; But when they flap their wings above the ground, The sun melts the wax and they fall down. Some men are born natural fools, In spite of learning sought at schools ; Conceit for brains, they substitute ; Chimerical whims for learnings fruit. Ideas disburse that blessings mar, That would turn pale the brightest star ; But their ignis-fatuus light's soon found. To lead away to marshy ground. Some men are natural born fools, Of knaves and dupes the willing tools ; And if they were but sent out to grass. They would be inferior to the ass That doesn't possess beauty or grace. Or comeliness of form or face ; For soon their braying and antics bring them down, And you just know where they can be found. Some men are born natural fools ; And we violate no proper rules When we would form them in a class. Between the donkey and the ass. When they essay great wit to sprout, You wonder, pause, stop and doubt. Whether an animal, man or goose, From some menagerie's not turned loose. GOOD HEALTH. 169 GOOD HEALTH— "Mens Sana in Corpere Sano.' Translation — A sound mind in a sound body. "Beware of youthful excesses for they are so many conspiracies against old age." Oh give me the health that is better than wealth, Or gold on deposit or store ; Or gems from the land of some emerald strand, Or silver from Argentine's shore. With all these at will, could I be happy still, If health is a stranger to me; How dearly I prize the jewel that lies ' At the foot of him who is free. From the bondage and thrall deliver us all From the implacable tyrant disease, Who with him may bring that terrible king, Making the heart of humanity freeze, Or brings if he will, the dread fever and chill, Before which the spirit must bend ; And this dreadful foe its victim lays low. And an open grave is the end. Erring mortals beware, and ever take care, There comes soon a reckoning day ; Youthful folly and sin will sometimes begin,. Like an avalanche sweep you away. When you might enjoy this, a lifetime of bliss, Looking back with serenest content. That you took care of your health, a mine of true wealth, That your previous life was well spent. I once knew a man who lived in our land. Who could scarcely a dollar enjoy; He little could talk ; 'twas a burden to walk. Or his money or bank-stock employ. His hundred thousand could not make him sound. Life to him was a burden and grief, When death with sad grace boldly stared in his face, And brought him the promised relief. 170 BLENNERH ASSET'S ISLE. 'Tis a melancholy reflection that we must mention, Its truth is apparently clear That the sins of the parents with their sad torrnents And penalties in their children appear. The disease may be born, the hope's not forlorn. That mortals may failings redeem ; In spite of heredity, lowness or penury, There may be a bright future for them. This law is prevailing we find availing. With its logic and truth combined ; A body that is sound is always found With strength and vigor of mind. But the mass of mankind appears purblind ; For a mess of pottage they trade For health that is given, best gift of heaven ; And diseases their body invade. Joy and health to the bowl that satiates the soul. Leaving behind no poisonous sting. That destroys the body and the fabric wholly, And death will infallibly bring. You, to whom I write, arise in your might. And guard as your honor this wealth ; If lost under the sun your're forever undone ; Then despise not the laws of health. Beware of youthful excesses that on life presses. Unbecoming folly and rage; Dark passions and vice that 'gainst you will rise; Conspire against your old age. Then hold to the health that is better than wealth, Oh, why should you throw it away, In follies below the best gift God did bestow, And suffer forever and aye? BLEINNERHASSET'S ISLE. Away down upon the broad Ohio Where doth dame nature smile, There stands a spot quite historic. Known as Blennerhasset's isle. BLENNERH ASSET'S ISLE. 171 The current swiftly passing round it, Appears much as years gone by; But connected with it are associations, Time will not allow to die. It was here that Blennerhasset settled In this island wilderness, Who was a son of noble birth, With a wife to love and bless. He erected here a lovely mansion Upon this wild island ground; So that west of the Alleghenies, None better could be found. But amidst all this rustic splendor, Appointments new and fine, There stealthily appeared a serpent, With a cunning, bold design. It was that of Burr once prominent in State and national affair, Who began to hatch some scheme of treason. Which went floating through the air. Perhaps they fondly dreamed of empire, Which they proposed to found, Wresting a part of the American nation, From its foundations sound. But like many other treasonous schemes, This was surely doomed to fail ; While Burr and Blennerhasset fled. And behind them left no tale. The soldiers racked this regal mansion ; Not a single trace appears To remind one of its ancient history. And fate in earlier years. The proud and traitorous occupants. Who the government defied, Fled ; and pursued as fugitives abhored, In want and squalor died. 172 IN OIL CITY IN 1865. The placid Ohio still meanders carrying Along its rapid stream The mighty commerce of the 'Tron City," Of which the ancients did not dream, Then while we read America's history, Take pride in her fair name. The traitorous Burr and Blennerhasset, Are consigned to eternal shame. ^ Notes. — Blennerhasset, son of a British nobleman, came to this island in 1797. Aaron Burr was once vice president of the United States. In 1805, Burr cam(e to this island and formed a scheme to capture the territory west of the Alle- gheny mountains, and perhaps found a new empire. Sol- diers were sent who nipped this scheme in the bud. The conspirators fled and were afterwards arrested on a charge of treason, but could not be proved guilty. How- ever, the epithet of treason still clings to them. IN.OIL CITY IN 1865. If you ever go to the City of Meadville, A city beautiful, grand in design, Are palatial mansions built by the wealthy, Reposing in architectural structure fine. Not many rods from the station there stands The imposing ''Delemater Block,'' Built by the man who had grown quite rich. By investing in ''Oil Creek stock." These were the days when shrewd monied men, Got rich as Croesus at a single bound ; Some from poverty and insignificance too, Became the wealthiest men in the town. For the treasures of oil in tJie deep "sand rock,' Had been for long ages wholly unknown. Till men with capital, push and energy, Drilled numerous holes in the ground. The earth to the tap of the drill did respond, And thousands of tanks were hurriedly built To hold the impetuous streams of oil, AVith which they were soon well filled. IN OIL CITY IN 1865. 173 A forest of derricks grew up all around, Built on every available spot; A "Bonus" was offered, or munificent sum, To the possessor of the meanest lot. Countless adventurers here spent their money; All had the disease of ''oil on the brain ;" The lucky speculator got quickly rich. While those were much greater that made small gain. Millions of dollars were sunk down here ; The dollars smelt greasy and tasted of oil, With carboniferous acid the air was laden ; Yet each hurried along to share the spoil. We were a part of this great invasion, That came from all parts to the city of oil ; Along the Allegheny's meandering banks, We sitting in our derrick did drill and toil. The invasion of "Goth and Vandal"' was nothing Compared to the flow of humanity's stream ; The "Carpet Sack" brigade kept marching along, To procure wealth from oil was their dream. We worked in Plummer north-east of Oil City, For Venango was leased all around ; Here millions were spent in fruitless endeavor, Oil was not in great quantities found. But forests of derricks lined Cherry Run ; While a few made permanent gains. Thousands sank their wealth in a hole. And had bankruptcy left for their pains. But the deluge of oil in "Pithole City," Beats all record, years since or before ; Its fountains were opened reaching flood-tide ; - The "Rooker and Twins" kept a constant out pour. Pithole City at once leaped into prominence, Of transcending importance and wide renown ; From the wilds of a woody tangled forest. She sprang to the size of a populous town. 174 IN OIL CITY IN 1865. Here were business blocks and theaters built ; Passing along you would frequently meet The virtuous — the "demi-monde" from the cities, While stumps yet remained; in the street. In this mush-room city of large pretensions, The man who struck oil got suddenly rich, While the poor devil who struck a dry hole," Was forced to the wall and fell in the ditch. Like many another quick-built mush-room city, She early showed signs of rapid decay; When her territory was drained by thousands of wells, Her wealth melted as snow flakes away. In a few short years where affluence dwelt, The moles — and bats and birds of the air Inhabit the place where the tide of fashion Stood, in this transient city but fair. We lived and acted a part of this drama, In this new and cosmopolitan town ; We helped to drill some flowing wells. In which oil was in plenty found. When, our mind reverts back to sixty-five, Seeing how swiftly great riches were made, We inwardly sigh that life's panorama And shifting scenes so suddenly fade. The story of Delemater is known in our State : Wallace in eighteen and ninety suffered defeat, Hon, R. E. Patterson won in the governor's race ; Our Meadville candidate had to retreat. His bank soon went under while creditors wept, Being unable or unwilling to pay; So the millions that came from investing in oil, Were as by a hurricane swept away. Some *'Coal Oil Johnny," as poor as a church mouse, Soon found himself worth millions in gold ; His wealth too sudden, alighting upon him. He found himself unable to hold. Three thousand dollars is a dangerous income. With each rising and set of the sun ; • The man owning this wealth may be no happier. Than he who owns little or none. •'THE MONROE DOCTRINIt." 175 You may ask the question, did we not get rich, Where many hundreds of thousands were spent — Where fire devoured large streams of oil, And fortunes at once into nothingness went? Speculation not being our turn of mind, We felt rich on four dollars a day, Which we did invest near Pittsburg town. Where we have yet continued to stay. But we must with this brief reminiscence close. As it may not our readers interest ; But to record this brief memoir of a busy life. We hesitate — but sometimes think it best, So if you ever visit the City of Meadville, Look about ; you'll find correct what I say ; The block as a monument to Delemater stands, While its former owner has passed away. 'THE MONROE DOCTRINE." As applied to Great Britain or any other European power, in regard to further territorial aggression or acquisition on the Western Continent. We believe in the Doctrine of Monroe That it is surely just and right, But then, admitting that is so. We cannot afford to fight. Uncle Sam can't stand for all creation ; His power however great, Assume the quarrel of each nation. Or yet grant protectorate. We will not permit our weaker neighbors, To be of wealth or honor shorn ; Our influence extends from Behring Straits Away down to Cape Horn. Yet we cannot espouse the quarrels Of each South American State ; This is a monstrous stretch of doctrine. We cannot now contemplate. 176' ' 'THE MONROE DOCTRINE. " But if 'Great Britain or any other power Shairby force on conquest seize An inch of Uncle Sam's dominions; Or seaboard cities, if you please. Then shall the marshaled hosts of freedom With camion, sword and gun, Give the erieiiiy a warm reception, And soon have him on the run. We 'canhdn fight for matters trivial, Which if we did attain, Would' niany millions cost in treasure, And a hundred thousand slain. We seek no quarrel with Great Britain ; But if she fails to do what's right, We very^soon can'bring her to her senses, In some other way than fight. If Great Britain's flag has ruled the ocean, And did some rude nations take, Civilization, art and science Has followed in her wake. But we ^n'ow this notice serve uppn her. And .'We mean it to be so. That in the future in this hemisphere. She can no further go. We would not our present boundary limit. But not by a "pirate's" hand, But by the laws of gravitation. Shall we own this Western land. This Northern Continent shall be ours Without the firing of a gun ; With or without foreign acquiescence, . Shall be these trophies won. The day Tor- foreign colonization, By either fraud or force, Is relegated to the past ages, And now has run its course. Each American Republic hereafter, Must enjoy the boon of peace ; And we warn^ all foreign intermeddlers, Now's the proper time to cease. TRIBUTE TO .UUJExMA. 177 TRIBUTE TO ARMENIA. Ancient Armenia, arise make answer, Where has thy banner of freedom fled? Tigranes ruled thy ancint government. That now belongs to nations dead. But thy noble spirit and spark of freedom, No Turkish tyranny can down ; And would that Christian nations or Armenia, The barbarous Turk uncrown. Europe's gathered fleets lie still at anchor At Constantinople's gates, yet 'tis a shame. That Christian powers stand in apathy. Lowering the standard of the Christian name. Shall brigandage and assassination Their hellish and brutal force display? And yet our feeble Christian civilization. Permits the Turk to hold such sway. Shall we indifferent look upon slaughtered thousands. And massacres dire, and butcheries grim, When torch and sword, rapine and plunder, Make all former atrocities grow dim ? A power that concedes no form of freedom, Can be of no real genuine worth ; And the united arms of Christendom, Should arise and sweep it from the earth. How much loncrer shall the flasf of Christian freedom Be made to trail low in the dust? God of heaven ! awake in thy mis;-htv vengeance And revenge thy down-trod'den just. Historic, ancient land of Armenia Upon which the true light never set ; Thou shalt as the phoenix, rise from thy ruins ; There is in reserve for thee sweet freedom yet. The tottering Satrap on the Bosphorus, Must be as Lucifer cast down ; For soon is filled his cup of iniquity. And he wears of eternal infamy the crown. 178 AN IROQUOIS LEGEND. In this age brutal force can't long triumph ; Nor canting hypocrisy make its lair At the straits of the Bosphorus ; but Christian freedom Must conquer ; I behold it in the air. Let us show the world the cross must conquer ; Oppressed nationalities must be free ; That the accursed crescent stained with blood, Must be lowered ; swept from every sea. Words are too weak to adequate convey the Abominations of the ''unspeakable Turk." I ask — shall Christian Armenia be blotted out, When to save her would be Christian work? AN IROQUOIS LEGEND, Or "The Land of Souls." Written by Henry R. Schoolcroft who was born in 1793. In the versification of this Legend I follow the trend of ideas used by this author with some original ones as they sug- gest themselves, and seem appropriate to fill out the nar- rative. — Jan. 4, 1896. Uncas sat in mourning, his head upon his knees ; The forests all were green with the foliage of the trees. The buffalo trail at hand, the prairie's broad domain. Seen in the gentle Zephyrs, as a field of ripened grain. The great river rolled its waters to the ocean far away, Where the ''Great Spirit's" children see no declining day; The sun shone brightly, among the waving- trees. While Uncas sat in mourning, his head upon his knees. Uncas had been a gallant warrior, was never counted slow ; His name had driven terror to the heart of every foe ; The approach of the w^arrior, like the whirlwind in its course, Was relentless as the prairie fire in all its dreadful force. Among the distant lodges, his name had terror spread ; And many a squaw sat mourning, her lover being dead. The sun shone full upon him, as he lay beside the grave Of his beloved, in mourning, whose presence he did crave. AN IROQUOIS LEGEND. 179 A young squaw had promised him, to happy make his life ; The day for the wedding set, in which she'd be his wife ; The day for joining hand had come, perfumed by summer's breath ; The day for the wedding witnessed the bride laid low in death. In a mound by the winding river did this noble brave, Ubder the genial sunshine, consign her to her grave. Then Uncas drove in stakes where his precious treasure lay ; He, in unconsolable grief and sadness, turned away. The war club lay neglected in the corner of the room ; The bow hung idle to the roof of his ding-y, lonely home ; The swift arrow bore not death to the buffalo any more, Nor did his spear smite the fish along the sunnv shore. The "Great Spirit" frowned upon him, unpropitious was the breeze ; Day and night he sat in mourning, his head upon, his knees. The ancient doctors told him of a fair and shadowy land. Where he could seize with pleasure, his Indian maiden's hand, Situated in a region between the ecjuator and the poles, A place for glad reunion "The happy land of Souls." Uncas grieved and pondered as he lay uneasy on his bed ; Then wandered fast toward the land, where had his maiden fled. Thus sorrowing onward he proceeded, in mind a captive slave, Till he beheld the mound above her, then wept upon the grave. Then he departed southward, intently gazing round. Where the land of Souls and spirits might be found. He wandered over forest, over meadow, hill and stream ; But yet could see no kindly light, in radiance on- him beam. Then soon into a brighter place, he turned his longing view, Where the forests were all green, beneath the skies so blue. At last he came to a noble lodge, upon a point of land, Where there appeared before him, a most venerable man. In ample robe of skins was this aged pioneer clad. Informing the young chief, to see him he was glad. His bride had passed this lodge, but a little time before, On her journey from this world to the happy hunting shore. 180 AN [ROQUOIS LE(.END. "See yon gulf beyond the prairie," the old man gently said : ''That is the region of all Souls/' the stream beyond the dead. The boundary of that land is here, but you must bear in mind, Before you enter that harbor, you, must your body leave behind. It was an eagle's flight, he in a new country stood, Where bright and golden was the stream, beside a verdant wood ; The songsters held, a festival with happiness replete; And flowers appeared the richest, none ever seemed more sweet. Beautiful beings passed along, health-giving fountains played, And islands of grand scenery, that never more can fade. And Uncas there beheld a group of old-time trusted friends In this land of perennial freshness where pleasure never ends. On the strand he found a canoe, of bright refulgent stone. Into which he entered, to find where his Indian maid had gone. He entered on his journey stemming both waves and tide, When suddenly before his vision, his darling he espied. At length they reached the shore of that happy golden isle, Where glad images of beauty in supernal grandeur smile; They wandered on together thro' those deathless fields of light, Where age is not extinguished, but youth keeps ever bright. Their loving hearts communed on the beauty of the scene. Beyond the gates of Paradise where death had never been ; But said Uncas to himself I would remain forever here. But I must return back to earth to finish my career. ''Return," said the unknown voice, "to the land from whence you came." "You have many years yet to live and build a famous name ; Many years in mortal life will pass away from view, Before you finish the appointed work which 3^ou must surelv do." "Enriching the thoughts of your nation, do all the good you can. So will you make an enduring name among your fellow men. Pause not before great obstacles, neither turn nor quail; Breathe a sprit of defiance, you cannot surely fail." THE POOR MAN'S POSSESSION. 181 ''When you cross ag-ain this border, no foes can you annoy, Your bride will clasp you in her arms with gladsomeness and joy." The young warrior then awoke, and found that he lay Beside the prairie grave near the closing of the day. He arose in pensive spirit and toward home his footsteps pressed, Just as the sun was sinking to his chamber in the West. And what yet may be real did to this warrior seem, The beginning, the continuing, the sequel to a dream. THE POOR MAN'S POSSESSION. 'A Fool for Luck and a Poor Man for Children." I have a little jaunty wife; And I have children nine ; And as they recognize their daddy, I know the flock is mine. Do I love those ragged urchins? God knows my heart, I do ; Thro' fire, storm or water, rd strive to carry them through. The raven locks that used to play Around the youthful brow, Are almost changed to silver gray, - And life is real now. Our youthful dreams of riches Have taken fleeting wings ; And fortune's vain delusions, Are unsubstantial things. I own a little graden plot Fixed up in style that's fine, But to what does it amount When I divide by nine. But on the world cold, unfeeling, 'Tis useless to depend ; Be the architect of your own fortune, If you wish to keep a friend. 182 A DIVIDING LINE. Here comes a group of children To play around my knee ; And it is the truth I'm teUing, They all depend on me. Do I love those romping children? God Icnows my heart, I do ; Tho' I be deprived of many things, I'd try to carry them through. I have no solid sinking fund, Nor much of real estate; My bank stock or investments, I cannot say are great. But as life is quite uncertain, My earnings are quite small ; Still I patronize the savings bank. And do not spend it all. Have you a wife and children Whom you consider dear? You are fulfilling God's own purpose. For which you were placed here. It is your sworn, bounded duty, To prepare for years to come ; To love, protect and cherish. Those darlings of your home. Should we then have a wife and children, And life to us seems fair, God for some useful purpose. Entrusts them to our care. Thrice blest the family circle, Though wealth is incomplete, Where heaven and earth their benisons. Blend in communion sweet. A DIVIDING LINE. *T would like to have you either through money, or 'Life In- surance,' be able to leave the world feeling that your fam- ily need not become paupers." — T. De Witt Talmage. There is a dividing line you see Between those that would properous be, And those that would not ; A DIVIDING LINE. 183 So wise it is in life to prepare For times of destitution and care ; An excellent thing is forethought. Ah, who would a worthless pauper be, When by continued industry, he Might a competence secure, Against a possible ''rainy day," That unsolicited come it may. And not be a beggar poor A life insurance thought it may cost. Is a fortune that cannot be lost By the world's ups and downs ; 'Tis better than gold in failing banks, Insignia, title, worthless ranks ; Or the uncertain tenure of crowns. The world's reverses may sweep you down ; A thousand and one things may be found,- Against you to conspire ; The strongest physical health may fail ; Secret foes your being may assail ; Laugh when you stick in the mire. Let you be poor, or let you be rich. It matters very little which. So that you seize old "Father Time" By the forelock on his brow ; To prepare against emergencies hard, Requires a constant daily guard : The time to prepare is now, We see of transient things the trend ; Of the "Unrighteous Mammon" make your friend, And obey the Gospel true ; As you have done those things for me, Your children will remember thee ; And heaven shall claim thee too. 184 KELIGIOUS THOUGHT. I then would have you the world leave, So that when friends around you grieve, Your family may be blest; Then wrapt in cloak of peace secure. Your name and fame will still endure ; And sweet will be your rest. RELIGIOUS THOUGHT. Above all that has been said, can be said, or will be said, religi- ous thought occupies the greatest intellects; inspires the greatest minds, and is the source of life and immortality. Socrates taught us immortal life, But he only imperfectly knew The doctrine that he had evolved. While much that he said was untrue. That the soul is immortal he well understood, Seen only thro' a dim light ; Dense d'arkness reigned when he lived, — The depths of heathendom's night. We rejoice we live in a much clearer age. When light and true knowledge ablaze. Rivals the glaring meridan sun. Imparting its life-giving rays. Moses gave to a darkened world the law From Sinai's mount of flame, But faith and truth and righteousness With the lowly Nazarene came. It needs more than human wisdom to speak; A greater than inspired pen To unfold the marvelous work of the spirit, In renewing degenerate men. When we stand on our perch of humility. Behold man ruined by the fall, We marvel that Infinite love was so great, As to ever extend him a call. When all has been said that can be said. As compared with religious thought, How vain, mean and co^ntempible ! THE MASTER'S WOKK. 185 They readily sink to nought. Thou Infinite mind, grant us the power, That we may vividly portray The glorious truths by religion taught, In showing erring mortals the wa}^ THE MASTER'S WORK. 'Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" Acts 9:6. Lord, what wilt thou have me to do? Is there never a work for me? Shall I never labor to save a soul, Whilst others I busy see? I know there's a work I'm destined to do. Lord, grant me aid to carry it through. I know there's a way in which I should walk ; I know there are evils to shun ; I know for me there's a kingdom and crown. To be either lost or won. Then let me press forward and win the prize, While it now in my power to reach it lies. The Master hath called for his harvest hands, For His fields are ready to reap; He wants souls that are anxious and willing, His pastures in order to keep. There is a work then, that I can do : Lord, grant me grace to carry it through. Why stand ye idling thus to-day? Go up and possess the land : The wilderness must be first passed through, Before you as victors stand. Have ye yet passed the Red Sea wave. Or do you Egypt's flesh-pots crave? The Master kindly asks you to work. To build up His kingdom here ; He wants you, as one of His royal guests, In bridal robes to appear. He wants you to begin the work to-day ; Not only to work, but watch and pray. 186 ''YE HATH TAKEN AWAY MY^ GODS." Ye countless thousands, why do ye stand As though there was nothing to do? There may be one poor sinner waiting, And expecting a blessing from you. Why will ye stand back until too late, Or will ye press in at the pearly gate? Here is an example for ages to come : When Saul the true light did view, Imploring the Master, he trembling said, ''Lord, what will thou have me to do?" He preached ; nor death nor power nor force. Could swerve him from pursuing this course. Ye drowsy Christians, arouse, awake ! Your Master's calling pursue. Come and take the kingdom by force. For His kingdom is given to you. We rejoice there is something for us to do, God grant us faith to carry it through. YE HATH TAKEN AWAY MY GOD'S." Judges 18:24. I'm left in a manner forlorn and sad. Oh, what shall I do or say; I've nought in the world to make me glad, They have taken my gods away. My soul is weary, my heart is sick, Where on this earth shall I find. An object to worship ; help me quick To relieve my sorrows of mind. Oh, I had not thought of this dreadful day. Which now appears to have come, When I have no god to which I can pray. No object of worship at home. You ruthless despoilers have had your way, Have taken my precious store ; No god I can call my own to-day ; What on earth have I more? THE CHURCH OF TODAY. 187 Then, all may an object lesson heed, From a simple text like this ; An omnipotent God, you must have indeed, To secure your share of bliss. Does the world or mammon, or time, or sense, Secure of your life control ? Are worldly things of more consequence, Than the saving of the soul ? Ye lukewarm Chjistians, where is your zeal. Has your sense of duty fled? Have you a name to live, a heart to feel Or is your religion dead? Shall the heathen in his land of night. Have greater zeal for his god Than the Christian who w^alks in the broad daylight, Of His promises shed abroad? Solemn admonition for you and me? Let none take our God away. Where shall we stand, or where shall we be In His great judgment day? When the universe shall be rolled as a scroll. All earthly hopes run down. Let us firmly cling to the God of our soul ; And humbly wait for His crown. I'm left in a manner forlorn and sad, What now can I do or say? I have trifled away the call that I had, I have now m sin grown gray. There is yet for you mercy in God's great store ; Humble yourself and come nigh ; Oh, haste to seek Him ; His aid implore. And you cannot surely die. THEI CHURCH OF TO-DAY. The church of to-day as a beacon set high, Stands shedding her sunbeams afar ; With her foot placed on the earth, she points to the sky, Basks in the bright light of Bethlehem's star. 188 THE CHURCH OF TODAY. She's been founded in sorrow, in trials and tears; Her foes have sought to. blot out her name ; Yet the stronger she grows with the lapse of her years, For she's fed by omnipotent flame. The church of to-day — for what does she stand, For all that is glorious, beautiful, true ; For all that enlightens, ennobles our land, For all that makes us peculiarly grand. Thrice blest is the work she gives us to do. With her breastplate of Faith, her anchor of Hope, Charity true doth her ramparts adorn ; The kings of the earth shall arise at her call ; Her thanksgiving incense breathes forth on the morn. They shall come from the East, the isles of the West, And stand on the battlements high ; Those that dwell in her shadow shall call themselves blest. For the day of her triumph is nigh. From the furthermost ends of the earth, To the uttermost bounds of the sea, As a safe retreat for the nations and tribes, They shall into her safe harbor flee. An army with banners, a strong mighty host, No foes can ever against her prevail ; The dominion of satan shall be overthrown. And his kingdom shall utterly fail. Hail, glorious, grand, magnificent light. To that city of refuge we flee ; The day-spring on high hath illumned our path ; AVe exulting thy glories shall see. The church of to-day stands on solid rock; For Jehovah hath sworn from His throne on high, Hell's battlements never her foundations can shock ; Her omnipotent guards are the hosts of the sky. Hallelujah He reigns, her triumphant head, Who as a conqueror rose from the grave ; This world shall be saved, the glad tidings spread ; He shall forever reign who is mighty tO' save. EASTER MORNING. 189 EASTER MORNING— No. i. Oh, hark, 'tis the earthquake's deep murmur; All nature's enshrouded in gloom, The veil of the temple is riven, The Savior's embalmed in the tomb. The disciples o'erburdened with sorrow, And bowed with a burden of grief, Had hoped that the coming to-morrow, Might bring to their minds some relief. Anon, the angel from heaven descended. And away, he hath turned the stone: The keepers are quaking with terror ; The Lord had arisen and gone. The rock-hewn sepulchre's empty ; Broken down the door of the prison ; Hear the voice of the angel proclaiming. Our Savior the Lord had arisen. The first day of the week when assembled. Their crucified IMaster appears ; To them His "commission" is given, And blessings for all future years. Now glad are the hearts of the weary disciples Archangels in peans of song, Resounding- in depths of heaven's high arches ; Sweet anthems of music prolong. Bring forth your best gifts all His children, For the Lord hath arisen to-day ; O'er death and the grave He hath triumphed ; To heaven hath opened the way. No language can tell of His suffering-; No language can speak of His love ; No other can save us but Jesus, And prepare us a mansion above. Oh, what shall we render unto Him. May we always choose the good part; For He is always pleased to accept, A contrite and oenitent heart. 190 EASTER. Let all nations of earth bring Him homage, Till heaven's hallelujah's shall raise; And the ransomed of earth and the angels of heaven, Shall unite in His marvelous praise. EASTER— No. 2. ''He is not here, for He is risen." Matt. 20: The throes of crucifixion are over ; And He who is mighty to save, Has left the cold chamber's slumber. And triumphed over the grave. The sunset of eve sank in sorrow ; The morning disperses the gloom ; "He is not here for He's risen/' And broken the bars of the tomb. Thus the minions of earth are defeated ; At morning the conqueror waits. To comfort the weary disciples. Now standing outside of the gates. Come, crown Him with garlands of flowers. And strew the conqueror's way ; "He is not here, for He's risen," The angel proclaimeth to-day. The high archangels rejoicing, Unite in a glorious strain. While the songs of redemption shall echo. And gladly take up the refrain. And now, as the cold earth awakens, Once more becomes vocal with song; "He is not here, for He's risen," The voice of rejoicing prolong. Thus the grand deliverer triumphs ; The greatest foes did defeat ; Erect your arch in the conqueror's path. And strew your wreathes at His feet. All nations and tribes sound His praises, Their exalted Redeemer to own, "He is not here, for He's risen," Our great Intercessor alone. EASTER. 191 Be silent ye muse of Apollo, Broke is your musical chord ; For earth's sweetest strains shall be sung To the praise of its new risen Lord. As the rolling seasons pass o'er us, This is the song we shall sing; 'He is not here, for He's risen," And hallowed the glories of spring. 'And he repaired the altars that had been broken down." Bible. Come let us the broken down altars repair. And bring to our God the sweet incense of prayer From a soul full of faith, a heart full of love. Meet for the cause of the A faster above. With hearts full of thanksgiving and praise. To our Father our anthems acceptably raise ; Sweet hallelujahs our tongue shall inspire. Till our voices shall blend with the heavenly choir. Yea, let us the broken-down altars repair, For our Maker above is the hearer of prayer ; The song that He puts in our mouth we shall sing, And swell the great chorus of Jesus our King. Oh, loved one yet wandering hi pathways of sin. He pleads with you now, and inviteth you in ; Erect then your altar — erect it with care. And say "Dearest Savior," accept my prayer. Our Father has promised to merciful be. And Jesus has died to redeem such as thee. His spirit He gives to each penitent heart ; A home and a crown after life doth depart. Let each one the broken-down altars repair. For our Master above is the hearer of prayer ; The song of redemption we ever shall sing, And swell the great chorus of Jesus our King. 192 A HOLE IN THE WALL. A HOLE IN THE WALL. 'And he brought me to the door of the court and when I looked, behold a hole in the wall." Ezek. 8:7. *'He brought me to the door of the court," Leading in to the haunts of sin ; Through a hole I was permitted to see The votaries that were therein. And the secret sins there committed, Will stand in a bold array, And sink the soul to the lowest hell. When comes the judgment day. . Let us penetrate that secret chamber. And behold the motley crew ; And see what the votaries of folly. In their wanton mad'ness do. It is here that lust and passion, Inflamed by strong drink and wine. Indulge in bacchanalian orgies ; Stamp out the image divine. Here men of wealth and maids of beauty. Into the depths of folly sink ; Thus com;mingling and carousing, They are on perditions brink. Revolting crimes are here committed. That will not bear the light ; That savor of satan's carnivals, Whose thriving time is the night. The world is full of abominations. That are cunningly hid from view ; And the outside world will never know. What the inside world do. Thus the onward march of iniquity Is the same in every age ; Men will suffer in madness for their sins ; Die in the phrenzy of their rage. A HOLE IN THE WALL. m\ In the chambers of his imagery, With a censor in his hand, See an old and hardened sinner, In his sable garments stand. He worships the goddess of fortune, And Mammon from the east ; Behold him emerge from his temple, And see the marks of the Beast. There stands a substantial palace — A gilded court of sin ; God will never forgive the inmates. For the crimes that are done within. Sweet innocence is deprived of virtue. And beauty hidles in shame ; Right here we must condemn some women. Who bring disgrace on the name. Millions sacrifice in other ways Their hopes for life to come ; Their prosperity and peace of mind, And on earth a happy home. God pity our sinful fallen race. Must our brother or sister fall. And must the syrens of vice and sin, Continue to plague us all? But as the bubbles that rise and sink, As the flakes that come and go. We see this restless human tide. In a downward current flow. Shall virtue or vice be triumphant? Shall wisdom^ or folly win ? When will earth's teeming millions, Forsake the paths of sin? Tho' the pleasures of sin may seem sweet, You will have cause to regret ; Sin goes not unpunished in this world. Reward of justice must be met. We know that warnings will be useless. But in virtue's name we call ; Your secret sins will come to light ; You're seen thro' a hole in the wall. 194 WHITHER SHALL WE FLEE? WHITHER SHALL WE FLEE? When temptations round us gather, Oh, whither shall we flee, For protection, strength and succor, O Lord, but unto Thee ? When troubles round us hover, Our pathway lonely be. Then wilt thou grant us solace. By coming unto Thee. May the earnest of thy spirit Thy grace that's full and free Rest upon thy humble servant, A portion give to me. As is our day of labor, So our strength shall be ; May it be our great endeavor, To give our hearts to Thee. Let us tO' heaven our glances, Cast upward as we go ; Pray that our cups of blessings, May surely overflow. But if we feel His chastening hand, Ah, whither shall we flee? Thy potent arm can heal us If we only come to Thee. Lord, lead us in thy pathway, And crown us with thy grace, So that we, at last, in heaven, Secure a resting place. From times storm, clouds and tempest, Ah, whither shall we flee? We shall anchor in the harbor, And safely trust in Thee. 'THE BRIGHT AND MORNING STAR." Thou root and ofl^-spring of David, Thou bright and morning star, Let the gleams of thy bright radiance, Shine on our souls afar. THE BRIGHT AND MORNING STAR. 195 From the dome of heaven's hi^trh arches. Where supernal glories are. Shine on our world of death and darkness, Thou bright and morning star. Thou highest, brightest constellation, Whose light no clouds can mar. Illumine our hearts benighted, Thou bright and morning star. Brighter than Arcturus' glories. Or the day's triumphal car. Or Orion in majestic splendor, Is our bright and morning star. When our planet was enshrouded In gloom of death and night, Brighter than the rays of the morning, W^s thy pure effulgent light. When heaven's portals are opened, The white gate stand's ajar. May we enter in the radiance. Of this brig'ht and morning star. Shine on in thy glorious splendor, Sitar of the Soul sublime. Thy light shall shine for millions yet, , Beyond the wrecks of time. Thou root and off-spring of David, No night our peace can mar ; Light us to thy celestial harbor, Thou bright and morning star. Gracious, beneficent Spirit, Who deigns our souls to bless. Prince of peace, eternal ruler, — Author of righteousness : Thou root and off-spring of David, Whose sons we truly are, Make us a home in thy mansion. Thou bright and morning star. 196 THE GUIDING HAND. THE GUIDING HAND. With an outstretched omnipotent arm, Jehovah's mighty hand, Led them through the wilderness Unto the promised land. They were in the wilderness entangled, The sea had shut them in ; The mighty wilderness in the rear, A pursuing army passing near. The Red Sea wave for them is cloven ; They walk as on dry land ; They perceive the power of Jehovah, And see His guiding hand. ''Better for us to serve the Egyptians Than in the wilderness to die,"' Is the voice of their lamentations — The wail of their bitter cry. "Fear ye not, stand still and see the Salvation of your God." He shall fight your battles. He shall guide you on your way; Your enemies shall be scattered. As the mists at break of day. ''They were all baptized to Moses, In the cloud and the sea." A pillar of fire shone above them ; A pillar of cloud by day, Pharoah's power has vanquished been ; A wall of waves is placed between. He gave them heavenly manna. Which fell in the night as dew ; Partaking this satisfied hunger. As the desert they passed through. And when they were pressed in battle, Ere they reached the promised land, Jehovah's power omnipotent, Is seen in His guiding hand. THANKS. jr,7 Through Elysian plains we wander In the full-robed blaze of day ; Or trouble's wilderness meander. And cannot see our way : Look aloft to the pillar of fire : Leading- to the promised land : Cast your aspirations higher ; Behold the guiding hand. THANKS. For all thy tender mercies In our pathway shed abroad, And for all thy living kindness, . We thank thee, O our God. For all thy favors given Upon this earthly sod, For the bright hopes of heaven, We thank thee, O our God. For the light of truth refulgent, The way our father's trod, For heaven's beams resplendent. We thank thee, O our God. The friends by which surrounded. As we homeward, onward plod ; For the gift of grace unbounded, We thank thee, O our God. For our creation and redemption, For thy spirit's blest abode, For the wonders of salvation, We thank thee, O our God. For the meek and lowly Savior, Shall we in strains applaud ; For whose especial favor, We thank thee, O our God. 198 OUR CHOICE. OUR CHOICE. So long- as the Lord permits us, With heart and hand and voice, We shall still continue to labor 'In the good old church of our choice. And when in old age we're g'athered, To enjoy our season of rest; The church ransomed shall receive us, And honor us as her guest. The church is our spiritual mother, In \vhich we first saw the light; Shall we then not love her, give her honor, And make her our heart's delight? She is the noblest institution Upon these shores of time ; Around her eternal glories center, And golden truths sublime. The world is her field of conquest. And the fruits of many lands. Shall be gathered up and treasured, Till her voice the world commands. Spiritual aid to us she will render When our earthly sun shines dim ; For she reflects from heaven the splendor, When seen in the light of Him. Who in bridal robes hath dressed her, And adorned her as His ''Bride :" In her Savior's love and eternal fullness, She is forever to abide. In that grand celestial city. Where we some day hope to be, We shall partake of the luscious fruits That grow by the golden sea ; The cherished hopes and aspirations, That once were ours on earth. Shall give away to realizations. In the land of our new birth. THE BETTER LIFE. 199 Most glorious church of Zion ! The fruit she yearly yields, Is the health and life of nations, And reclaiming of her fields. "Then shall the wilderness rejoice And blossom as the rose ;" The ends of the earth hear her voice, And in her palaces repose. THE BETTER LIFK Would you the better life desire And gain the highest prize? Let heavenly joys your mind inspire, And upward cast your eyes. Would you reach that house of splendor. Ecstatic pleasures win? Be opened wide the celestial gates. And let the pardoned in. Laborious discipline is ours, So that we may not rove In paths of sin's forbidden bowers, But seek our house above : Then be clad in robes immortal, Cleansed from every sin ; Be opened wide ye celestial gates, Admit the ransomed in Grand employments, true pleasures, Unknown to mortal eyes, The choice of heaven's treasures. Are the true Christian's prize. The pure in heart shall heaven see, A crown of glory win ; Be opened wide ye celestial gates. And let the ransomed in. When thou makest up thy jewels, And when from sin set free. May there be reserved a portion, For a sinner such as me. 200 THE STORMS OF TIME. Lo, here comes the ransomed many, Who did the battle win ; Be opened wide ye celestial gates, Admit the victors in. THE STORMS OF TIME. When the raging storms hover Over the sea and land, When the blackness of the tempest Is seen on every hand, W!ien lashed by wind and storms. Our ship about to break, Lay fast hold on Hope, the anchor; Thank God and courage take. When the mighty, surging billows, Over our ship are lashed, And drifting upon the quick-sands, Her ribs to pieces smashed, Then, in this great commotion. Our life and soul at stake. Put faith in the great Captain ; Thank God and courage take. When our tender barque is broken, Our hopes within us fail, Lord, save us or we perish Through the fierceness of the gale. Then standing at the post of duty. On, for the mainland make ; In the sheltered port there's safety; Thank God and courasre take. 'THE NEW JERUSALEM." May we as followers of Jesus, The Gospel in our hands, See that it be safely carried To earth's remotest lands. Chorus. — Then with that glorious company THE DEATH OF MOSES. 201 That taught the truth to men, w Of the new Jerusalem. Shall we walk on the golden streets May the living, glorious Gospel Over the world be spread Till on earth's remotest nation The light of Life be shed. Chorus. — Then with that glorious company- May we follow their examples And imitate their faith Devotion, love and charity And persevere to death. Chorus. — Then with that glorious company- Forever from earth be banished, Old superstition's veil ; For true faith and life eternal, Will soon o'er earth prevail. Chorus. — Then with that glorious company- Then ever-blessed dear Redeemer, Just take me as I am ; Make me worthy of admission. To the supper of the Lamb. Chorus. — Then with that glorious company- That taught the truth to men, Shall we walk on the golden streets Of the new Jerusalem. THE DEATH OF MOSES. The reproach of Christ, esteeming Far greater riches, he Chose to suffer for a season ; — Led his hosts across the sea. 202 THE DEATH OF MOSES. Typical of that heavenly Jordan Which must some day be crossed ; So in God's own gracious season, Will cross His chosen host. On God's own appointed mountain, His chosen leader stands; He view^s the land of promise, Beyond old Jordan's strands. Altho' one hundred and twenty years, Had now passed over him, His natural strength had not abated. Nor had his eyes grown dim. On Pisgah's bold, lofty summit, There appeared unto his view, The delightful plains of Jericho, And Lebanon's cedars, too. Then, he beheld the promised land Across the Jordan's wave; Jehovah, with His own right hand. Prepared for him a grave. Bright seraphims in waiting. His spirit did convey To the bright and heavenly Canaan, The land of endless day. Thus passed one of God's great warriors, With epitaph unpenned : Thy graven law imperishable, Must to ages all descend. Oh, beautiful vale of Moab ! Oh', sad, neglected spot: Down through the drift of centuries, Thy name is not forgot. While marching to the land of promise, Our christian toils recount. May we be at last permitted. A view on Pisgah's mount. Thus died the most illustrous man, The world did ever bless ; God's chosen people led victorious, Thro' the drear wilderness. "THE DAY OF GRACE." 203 Oh, consecrated vale of Moab ! Long as her flowers bloom, Shall angel guards the place protect. Of this most hallowed tomb. 'THE DAY OF GRACE. Wherefore have ye wandered from Him Where is now your faith? You are on the road that leadeth Down to the gates of death. Jesus invites you to return, And seek the throne of grace; Or your candle-stick will be removed, Out of its former place. Except you shall repent of sins. And anew your life begin, You shall be abandoned by Him In the mire and death of sin ; And the gracious loving spirit, That doth with sinners plead. Shall take its sudden departure, In time of greatest need. Must ye iiear the voice of warning And yet reject the sound? You are fast hastening to the place Where repentance is not found. *T knoAv thy works, thou hast a name,'' Tho' livest and art dead ; Thy day of grace fast hastening — Perhaps, it now has fled. Thy woe and tribulation Ma}^ not be far from sight; And may come upon yon sudden, As the silent thief at night. - ' ■■■'■ Thou may est reject the spirit, • • With his wooings kind ahdifree; But there comes a day of judgment, From which thou canst 'h6t flee:. 204 GROSSING THE STREAM. But the Lord is long in suffering Not willing- any die, But that all should come unto Him, And join the church on high. "Him that overcometh will I make a pillar In the temple of my God," Where are higher glories promised, And His love is shed abroad. Be this our prayer : — our names be written By recording angel's pen, How that by faith we OA^ercame, The ransomed among men. We all earth's foes shall overcome, With all their raging powers ; Then as the Christian conqueror, The triumph shall be ours. Then flee hence from devastation, From earth's frightful dread alarms ; For the Savior standeth waiting To' receive you in His arms.. May we accept that great salvation, Abundant, full and free, Hallelujah ! we shall triumph, And more than conquerors be. CROSSING THE STREAM, Tn life they were not separated, and in death they were not divided." They had traveled fifty years together Thro' life's devious winding ways ; They braved the storms of frost and weather, In dark or halcyon days, The burdens of age had grown upon them ; Theirs hadi been many trials ; But they conquered life's temptations, By abstemious denials. CROSSING THE STREAM. 205 But her guardian angel whispered : 'Twas about the hour of eve, "Mother, your days on earth are numbered, Now, take your farewell leave." Anon, the morning clouds had broken ; "They are calling me," he sighed ; The good old man resigned his spirit, And in peace and quiet died. Thus in life they were united, And in deaith they diid not part ; The herald from the heavenly world, Sent his arrows to each heart. Thus they lived and loved together, In peace serene they died; And the aged reverent sire Sleeps by his good wife's side. And the ties of true affection. By which they were united here. Shall continue in new life unbroken. When they reach the brighter sphere. They like heroes true had conquered ; Now, beyond the rolling tide, They walk in fields of peace perennial. Where true glory doth abide. But when the Arch-angel sounds his trumpet On the resurrection morn, Nations shall come forth to judgment, As on the wings of lightning borne. Dear old grandfather shall be there, A crown above his smiling face ; And mother clad in robes of beauty. Saved by the power of grace. That they have gone from earth to heaven. We sincerely humbly trust; That their sins are all forgiven. And they're living with the just. But this sad reflection comes upon us. — Lessens earthly pomp and pride, That this world seems much the poorer, Since the good old couple died. 206 PENITENTIAL HYMN. PENITENTIAL HYMN. May God in mercy me forgive, For sins and evils done; And may J pardon full receive Throug-h His eternal son ; In whom the pardoned sinner trusts, Whose prayers He v^on't despise ; He cleanses from all worldly lusts, And bids the sinner rise. Oh, then His mercy full implore. And bid His judgments stay; His goodness is forevermore To such as walk His way. Oh, where shall you and I be found In the great judgment hour, When assembled nations all around, Shall tremble at His power? Great judge in mercy spare my soul From the destroyer's snare ; And make this wounded spirit whole, Despising- not my prayer. For unto whom in heaven above. Or in this earth below Can sinful men receive thy love, Or where for pardon go.^ Great God in mercy me forgive. And save this dying soul ; And make this wounded spirit live — By cleansing make it whole. Then in the cross will conquer A home beyond the skies, Peaceful, blest, ours forever. Let hallelujahs rise. AVALK NOT PROUDLY. 207 WALK NOT PROUDLY. "Walk not proudly in the land for thou canst not cleave the earth. Neither shalt thou equal the mountains in stature." — Al. Koran of Mohammed;. Pride goeth before destruc- tion and a haughty spirit before a fall." — Bible. Let not ambition's flaunting wings In vain efforts reach the sky; Uncertain are terrestrial things When piled up mountain high. The world's great monument of folly Without limitations bars, Was the stupendous pile of Babel That sought to pierce the stars. Yet in all succeeding ages, ^Monumental folly rules ; And modern South sea Bubbles Reign in the heart of fools. And "Spanish chateaus" finely built, Suspended in upper air, As specters in departed visions. Have not bases anywhere. Wisdom may be known of her children, Yet modern sages smile At others trying to reform the world, In wicked Avays grown vile. For men vainly still imagine That hoarded wealth will give. More than heaven has foreordained, A continued lease to live. Then why walk proudly in the land, "For thou canst not cleave the earth ;" Nor rend the mountain summits high. Nor give to an atom birth. Inglorious creature of a day, Clothed in stature small ; "Thou canst not equal the mountains high," Nor vet their summits tall. 208 WALK KOT PROUDLY. Or why should mortals vainly soar To' reach the snow-capped cloud — Hidden chambers of the firmament— The North winds gauzy shroud? Misdiirected vain ambition, "In folly's maze advance ;" Thou canst not climb the Pleiades, Nor learn their mystic dance. Pride precedeth certain destruction ; The storm, the regal oaks and tall, Will wrench and twist and rend in pieces, Before their giant forms fall. So the spirit untamed and haughty, Must ignobly condescend, Just as the storm the mighty branches. Of the terebinth will bend. Misapprehension, wrong ambition. Wherefore would you stray Into the constellation of Taurus, Or explore the "Milky Way?" The Infinite mind has placed beyond us, Summits which we cannot reach; The chrystal mounts that's hyperborean With their unexplored beach. Pyramids of volumes have been written By pen of philosopher or sage, Affirming that men daily grow wiser, With each succeeding age. The alchemist has come and gone, Archimedes still speaks ; Newton's grand laws of gravitation, Order out of chaos makes. But whether we speak of mind or matter The first great leading cause Has firmly fixed, yea, established, Boundaries and eternal laws That govern with exact precision. WALK NOT PROUDLY. 209 Into the limits of the unfathomable, Thou canst no further go Than the infinite mind in His'wisdom, Hath seen fit to mortals show. , Then, why wouldst thou stride the heavens apace. Into heaven's arcana soar, Or drive a tandem team in chariot race — Empyrean realms explore? Mount upward, groveling child of earth ; O'H. wings of inspiration rise. Yet clad in robes of true humility, To thy home beyond the skies. Notes. — "Mohammed," a religious imposter who arose in the in the sixth century. ''Al Koran," the name of the book in which he taught his doctrine or religion, now the pre- vailing religion of Turkey and other places. "Tower of Babel," confusion. Built on the plain of Shinar on the banks of the Euphrates. A tower commenced, as is sup- posed during the life of Noah, and under the direction of Nimrod, 113 years after the deluge. "Pleiades," in astron- omy, the seven stars situated in the neck of the constel- lation of Taurus. "Milky Way," a broad luminous path, or circle in the heavens, supposed to be the light of in- numerable fixed stars. "Hyperborean," most northern ; an inhabitant of the most northern region of the earth. "Chateaux," castles in air; fanciful. Newton's laws of gravitation. First, the attraction between bodies is pro- portional to the product of their masses. "Archimedes' Principle," the weight of a body immersed in water is di- minished by an amount equal to the weight of the water which it displaces. "Arcana," secrets. 210 THE SABBATH. THE SABBATH. ''Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy."— Bible. "The sunny Sabbath which marked the coming of sprmg, was taken advantage of by a multitude of people whom the winter has kept away from the parks and flowers."— "Pittsburg Times." The grand old stern historic Puritans, We read their history still. How they almost changed the tierce climate, Of each New England granite hill. Struck the first blow for independence ; Made good and wholesome laws, For the strict observance of the Sabbath, And each noble righteous cause. We of this later century thank them For having many victories won, In the cause of truth and righteousness ; For great deeds of valor done. If perchance, they were too zealous. We must now these faults forgive ; For it was an age of stern repression, In which they then did live. But with all their faults and frailties, Let me stand on "Plymouth Rock," Rather than on plane of modern sophistry, With its learned liberal talk. For new school of votaries have risen, That would change the Sabbath day To O'ue of frivolties and pleasures. Taking all its sanctitude away. It is now the goddess Flora — not the virgin. Who, in her artificial bowers. Is the Madonna for the worshippers, Whose shrine is banks of flowers. And the thousand and one excursions, Irreligious bands at play. Are fast undermining the sanctity Of our once-loved Sabbath day THE SABBATH. 211 The ''Sunday Newspaper" an abomination, Shedding its baleful light abroad, Whose pages filled with frothy literature, That draws the mind away from God. ''Sunday reading," a vile misnomer ; For all the foulness of the week Is picturesquely drawn and 'dished up In glowing colors — fluent English — Would bring blushes to an angel's cheek. Break down the bars that guard our Sabbath, As we now behold the trend, xA.nd mark you, ruin and desolation, Shall be the beginning of our end. Man may trample on with impunity The law; that came from Sinai great ; But history repeats itself in nations : Behold, we tremble at their fate. "The Sabbath day was made for man," Not in vain pleasures to abuse ; But for the cause of highest civilization, And the most benignant use. And would we avoid the shoals and breakers Of nations past, long since dead, "Remember ye to keep my Sabbaths ;" Ye shall be kept from visitations dread. When Israel was into bondage carried By the Almighty's stern command, The people wailed with harps upon the willows ; The Sabbath reigned in the deserted land. Shall we the latest and greatest nation ■ Of any age or time or place. Be weighed in the balance and found wanting Yielding to final rviin and disgrace? The prophetic cymbal now hath sounded. The sun in the heavens at high noon, Proclaims our Sabbath must not be surrendered, The christians birthright and his boon. 212 GOD BLESS THE CHILDKEN. This nation of the people, for, and by the people, Of acknowledged providential birth, Must still remember to keep her Sabbaths, And not be blotted from the earth. GOD BLESS THE CHILDREN. 'God bless the dear children. What would our homes be without them?" — Talmage. There may rich unnumbered blessings That deign to condescend. Enriching us with earthly treasures. That seem to know no end. How much more we prize possessions. Our transient life endear, In the precious gift of children, Who come to bless us here. ''What is home without a mother," Or a father help to lend? But cold and cheerless is the mansion, When no children's voices blend. Then what is home without the children In their gleesome mirth and joy? Their charmed life adds a pleasure : God bless our darling boy. God from His throne does bless the children, For He saith the children dear, Are a part of His heavenly kingdom. As messengers come here. Is there a harp discoursing music From the realms of angels bright? Is there a more melodious sonnet Than the whispered, child's "good-night?" Methinks the radiant hosts of heaven, With faces wrapt, serene. Look down with unbounded pleasure, Where are earth's cherubs seen. GOD BLESS THE CHILDREN. 21: When the "Good'-nig-hts" are repeated, Their guardian angels keep A vigil over the silent hours, That's occupied by sleep. What is home without some children? An oasis quite sad, Bereft of children's merry prattle, That makes the heart feel glad. What is there to bind affections- Love's truest strongest Ijnk, Unite, cement the hearts of parents, Down even to death's brink? We enjoy their childish rompings, We love their tender smile; For we but have them here as children, Only for a little while. For the years pass on and crowd them With its many grievous cares ; Anon, the happy years of childhood, Pass by them unawares. We almost feel a pang of pity For the snug and cozy home Where children never tread the carpets, And their voices never come. Tho' a home be one of royal grandeur, Religion, life and grace, It's as lone as was Eden's bower. Ere the coming of our race. God will bless the homes of children, Our children ever dear; May it be our duty to train them, And keep them in His fear. We know, if we reach the port of heaven, That pure and holy land. We shall see multitudes of children. Stand nearest God's right hand. 214 TRIBUTE TO THE FATHERS. TRIBUTE TO THE FATHERS— "These Suns Have Set." Majestic monarchs of the. earth! As some tall steeples high, You drew the lightning trom the clouds; Your spirits stormed the sky, And gathered strength as from each zone, Ye trod with angel wings, Till heaven's livery seemed your own, And earth's sublimer things. Great intellectual giants thou Of glorious, bright record; We at thy shrine of greatness bow. And sincerely thank the Lord That tho' thy form is humble dust, Thou hast a living voice To warn us all in whom to trust. To worship and rejoice. As brilliant meteors thwart the heavens Illume the darkened plain. These satellites on either side Shone brighter in their train. And the peoples long benighted, Saw the beacon-light afar, The splendid heaven-born refulgence, Shed by "Bethlehem's star." We of the world's later ages Rejoice that thou didst live, And as earth's pioneers and sages. Thy holy lives didst give To teach the everlasting truth sublime ; We in vaiii look for thy peers, Indelibly stamped on niche of time, Is the record of thy years. Oh, brilliant suns of former days, Nought can your luster dim ; You, as bright constellation's blaze. And reflect the lis-ht of Kim, CIJARITY. 216 Who precepts greatest gave to men, Did righteousness restore, So that our fallen, sinful earth. Might happy be once more. CHARITY. Above the world's noise and din, Its tumult, rage and blighting sin. Its guant distress, its portals dark, Where human life has scarce a spark Of brightness or of cheer, Appears fond charit}- and true, Its heavenly mission to pursue ; The lighted fires of heaven are seen, The wretched heart is made serene; Heaven to earth's brought near. The countless homes of Christendom, Which dire want proceedeth from, Find here a messenger of love Fraught as an angel from above : The work of love pursue. The Master's work is e'er at hand, In freedom's or oppression's land, There comes the message from the throne To make this work, a work our own ; And keep this end in view. Above the hills of Bethlehem, A star arose — was seen of men ; For centuries before, unknown Men groped in darkness all alone; 'Twas then the day-spring from on high Revealed a star, unusual, bright, That quick dispelled the gloomy night ; And charity sat down with men, And Hope, once dead, revived again ; These children of the sky. True charity the world will bless. Alleviate and kill distress ; Helping a brother who may fall, A widow who is deprived of all; 216 GOD'S CAKE. That brotherhood restore That makes a heaven of earth below, And lessens the burden of human woe The greatest good to all impart ; To help the sinking, aching heart. Can charit}^ do more ? GOD'S CARE. 'T know not when His islands lift Their fronded palms in air ; I only know I cannot drift Beyond His tender care." — Longfellow. To Him, who controls in infinite space The numberless worlds that haste in their race. Under whose pavillion — by whose guiding hand, The universe moves, in a circle so grand, Be inscribed this theme, an unworthy line, Whose works in immensity show Him divine ; The myriad worlds celestial, proclaim Him their maker and worship His name. How then can His creatures, poor beings below Read the Infinite Mind or His purposes know? It is wise to adore Him, believe in and trust The wisdom revealed of Him who is just. We perceive all around the goodness of God, In the blue upper depths where His foot-steps have trod ; In the millions of orbs that whirl in their course By coiicentric circles, all-powerful force. When the firmament's wonders and glories I see, I can't comprehend how His grace has reached me ; The wonder of wonders that never shall cease, Why He sent to our world His Gospel of peace, Of hope, charity, faith, redemption and love, From the courts of His spiritual temple above. Or w)hy He in great condecension did deign To rescue a race by sin that was slain. NAAMAN THE LEPER. 217 His islands may drift with their quick-shifting sands ; Continents may sink or develop new lands; Nature affrighted, into sadness may turn ; Planets appear, or in fierceness may burn ; Worlds disappearing thro' realms of space. May suddenly tell of the end of their race : Proud nations may fall, may quick disappear. While nought may be left to remember them here. Tho' the heavens in flame, be wrapt as a scroll, It shall be well for the sin-pardoned soul, That like a phoenix in triumph shall rise Its deliverer to meet in the vault of the skies ; To know there's a place where the ransomed may come, A haven of rest and an enduring home ; To know that His grace is unspeakably free, And accepting the gift, is sufficient for me. To know that God's child with His spirit endued, Has the promise that all things work for his good. Whether here he remains or in some other spheres. The promise is his of unchangeable years. This prophecy shall then, be written a truth ; As the age of the eagle, renewed is thy youth ; No more can He promise to creature or saint. He shall run and not weary, walk and not faint. The mysteries around us we cannot explain ; In the light of the future, they shall be made plain. In the day when the fulness of grace shall unfold, Our millennium will dawn, no more to grow old. When the arch-angel's summons to nations around, Shall awaken the dead by the force of his sound, We know with the blest our portion shall be, Giving glory to God that He saved you and me. NAAMAN THE LEPER— 2d Kings: 5-10. 'Go and wash in Jordan seven times." Naaman, the captain of the Assyrian hosts Came with a well-laden train, A retinue splendid, bearing presents, Into Israel's domain. 218 NAAMAN THE LEPER. He was in war a valiant leader, But he had afflicted been: A leper and doomed' to certain death ; He sought to be made clean. Drove up Naaman in his chariot, And standing a moment before, With cortege proud, imposing mien. The Prophet Elisha's door, He expected the prophet to greet him. Before the healing began; That he would invoke the name of his God, And heal by the stroke of his hand. The prophet, however, did not appear; His servant this message gave : "Go wash in the Jordan seven times," Be healed by the Jordan's wave. "Are not Abana and Pharpar," he said, Damascus rivers that be, Better than all of Israel's streams That find their way to the sea? "May I not wash in them and be clean?" Such thoughts aid his mind engage ; The prophet's advice was quickly spurned — He turned away in a rage. His attendants soothed his anger, On his mind an impress made : "Go wash in the Jordan seven times," And do as the prophet bade. The haughty courtier plunged, immersed. Lo, his leprosy was gone. He declared his faith in Jehovah, As the cleansing God alone. Thus was the arrogant leper healed ; He Jehovah's power had seen ; His leprosy had all disappeared ; I He now stood renewed and clean. The haughty sinner won't condescend, The Gospel truths to obey ; If he submits to be saved at all. He has mapped out his way. SURVEY OF CREATION. 219 The imperious monarch down must bow ; His titles and wealth are vain ; He must wash in Jordan's healing fount, To remove the leper's stain. 'Are not Abana and Pharpar," he said, Damascus rivers that be, Better than any of Israel's streams That rapidly find the sea? Repentant sinner, humbly come To the healing fount for sin. The prophet cries, ''plunge in Jordan's wave," And thou shalt be wholly clean. SURVEY OF CREATION. Can we the creation around us survey, Be low or exalted the place. And not the wisdom, omniscience and power, Of an infinite being trace? Can we the domain of nature survey, And be not struck with awe, At the wonders of the author's display. As ruled b}^ immutable law? Behold our sun as the source of light. In his journeyings from afar. Bestowing the life-giving heat so bright. From the throne of his burning car, Let us study our own swift-rolling orb. By its millions of beings trod, And see the omnipotent steps of Him, Who reig-ns as creation's God. He makes the grass and verdure to grow On the mountain-tops forlorn ; On the valleys is seen the overflow Of the crops of waving corn. He adorns the lilies of the field In robes that befit them well ; The pomp and grandeur of Solomon's court, Their splendor cannot excel. 220 THE SEVEN CHURCHES. He shut up the sea with mighty doors ; He this decree hath made : "Hitherto shalt thou come and no farther," Here shall thy proud waves be stayed. Shall we delve into immensity of space, Counting wonders one by one? Could we do this work a thousand years, We would scarcely have begun. Revelation and reason teach us. At His universal shrine. Intelligent mortals must adore Him, In the light of His face divine, Whose glory fills the realms of space. Whose salvation reaches souls ; Whose goodness extends o'er the human race Whose power all worlds controls. THE SEVEllSr CHURCHES— Of Asia Minor. In the city where Diana's ancient temple. In all its brilliant glory stood. With its hewn columns of Parian marble. Finest workmanship of wood, Was one of the world's greatest wonders ; Vast multitudes worshipping there ; "Great is Diana of the Ephesians," Laid in silver shrines of beauty fair. Here the church of Ephesus was planted. Which was commanded to return To her first love whom she had forsaken, Lest her light should cease to burn. Great heaps of stones now mark the ruins. Where the "Beloved Apostle" trod; Times sad ravages and desolations, Where once the believer worshipped God. The church of Smyrna faithful stood While did persecutions frown ; To those that held the truth till death, Were given an im.mort^l crown. THE SEVEN CHURCHES. 221. Her candlestick has not been removed, - Tho' its light sometimes shone dim; >'■ ' Tho'' wrapt in opaque clouds of darkness, ^ She still reflects the light of Him. The church of Pergamos was recommended For holding fast to His word ; But those that did the deeds he hated. Were to be smitten with the sword. Her great library by Anthony was taken ; She now reveals a sad decline ; The light of her apostolic glory, Has now almost ceased to shine. In the ancient church of Thyatira, Tares amomg the wheat were sown ; But those that held to Truth and Charity, By the discerning eye was known. Unto those who persevered of Thyatira, His promise an eternal crown ; ' But those that did despise His warning, No' repentance since have found. In Sardis they had defiled their garments, And to that church the spirit said, T know thy works that thou hast a name. That thou livest and art dead," Be faithful and strengthen the things that remain, For the time of th}^ naming is brief; . In case thou failest before me repent, I will come as the midnight thief. 'Twas here the river Pactolus flowed. Whose sands did golden treasures bring, When the Monarch Croesus was defeated, It was the seat of the Persian King. Spoliated by Goths Saracens and Turks, It as a mass of ruin stands ; Carried captive were its sacred vessels. By the invader's wicked hands. "I know thy works thou hast kept my word," Behold before thee an open door; Because thou hast kept the word of ni}^ patience, Thou art mv called forevermore. 222 KUTH AND NAuMi. Thou shalt be safe in the hour of temptation, Which shall come upon the world, When those that reject His precious promises, Shall be down to destruction hurled. Philadelphia remains still erect, A ''column in a scene of ruin stands ;" Allah-Shehr, the city of God, The beacon light of the lands. A name and memorial of His faithfulness, Has been left to believers on earth ; The promised glories to those that o'ercome, Shall be known in their heavenly birth. Thy doom is pronounced, O Laodicea, And wretched indeed is thy lot ; Thou canst never receive His approbation ; Thou art neither cold nor hot. To them the Apocalypse had been given ; The spirit of God had been sent ; But their greatest zeal was for the world, And they found no time to repent. Thus were Asia's seven churches exhorted. Each according to its own need ; The Faith delivered once to the saints, Was their rich heritasfe indeed. The Son still walks in the midst of his churches, And the light of His spirit divine. Surrounds with a halo each humble Christian, Consecrating each pilgrim's shrine. RUTH AND NAOMI. The famine had raged with great severity In that portion of the globe, When Elim'elech of Bethlehem-Judah, Emigrated to the land of Moab. Providence seemed unkind to him, As in our narrative appears ; He died; leaving a widow and two sons, After sojourning a few years. RUTH AND NAOMI. 223 The pious Naomi had lost her husband, We by inspiration understand, Her's was the fate of a desolate widow, In that far-off Moabite land. Two sons whom she fondly loved had died ; She was almost left in despair; She proposed to return to her former land, And seek out her subsistence there. In this land were the two sons happily married ; Beset by misfortune's evil tide, Their plans in life had all miscarried, For in this strangle land they died. There were then left three widowed women, Who mourned in sadness quite alone ; No' husband now to kindly lead them ; As for kindred they had none. The great theme taught is the power of love ; Not love between woman and man. Nor the popular theme of the novelist, Portrayed as he only can. This was a love that brooked all entreaty The most unselfish that we find. Of a widow lone for her mother-in-law. The most exalted of the mind. Her hour of parting now had come : - Her hand in friendship she extends ; "Remain my daughters where plenty is, And stay in the house of your friends." Orpah tenderly bade her mother good-bye. And their parting moment was o'er ; She turned back to her home and her gods, And we never hear of her more. Ruth to her mother-in-law beseechingly said. "Entreat me not from following thee ; For whither thou goest I will go, And whither thou restest, will I be." "Thy people shall be kinsmen to mine ; From thy God I will not depart ; Thy hand in mine shall. go down to death; United for life shall be each heart." £24 ULTIMA THULE. • "And when thou sinkest to the silent grave, Thy hour having come to die, Then will I lie down wrapt in peace, And with thine shall my body lie. God is our witness, we cannot part ; I will follow thy footsteps on. The covenant angel recorded the deed, And approved of the action done. Thus a great and mighty kingdom arose, We in sacred annals afterwards read ; For the promised Savior of mankind, Came thro' this woman's seed. The star of the house, of David shone In celestial radiance bright ; The slumbering nations were awakened. When beholding this heavenly light. ULTIMA THULE. Utmost Limit. If you go to heaven you'll find some singing Who' the golden crown doth wear ; Descend to hell, you'll find some wringing Their hands in dread despair. Would you climb the stairway of the planets, Up thro' the circumambient air. Perhaps you'd find some wandering mortal, Who had found a lodgnient there. Would you enter the courts of peace and pardon, The glorious sanctorum where The redeemed of earth and meet for heaven, Are engaged in the solemn act of prayer, You will find a group of happy children, Who their sweet hallelujahs raise, Till their voices blend with the angel chorus. In their resounding hymns of praise. Would you penetrate great ocean's depths Away beneath the briny foam. You would find here the bones of m.ortals. Who had tangled sea-weed made their home, "HEAVEN." 225 And perchance their stalking spirits May in those gloomy depths abide, Where the Creator has thought proper, His ways from mortals hide. Would you enter that borne undiscovered Where are the weeping wailing hosts Who parade the streets of dread perdition, In troops of wandering ghosts, Here you will find unhappy immortals Who have sinned away their day of grace ; Condemned tO' wander in the shades of hades. Where no ray of mercy strikes the place. Unknown, oblivious to the passing crowd. Would you stealthily enter in Where the habitues of vice in secret Are practicing all forms of sin^ Here you would a motley crowd encounter. Indulging in a bacchanalain spree, Whence they sink to the bottomless pit — Nevermore rise in perdition's sea. Heaven's marshaled hosts can't save the sinner. They will cross the boundary line Of pardon, hope and joy's fruition, And perish in spite of power divine. When you enter heaven you'll find some singing, Who rich bridal robes doth wear, While in the depths of hades some are wringing Their hands in fierce despair. 'HEAVEN"— Ancient and Modern. Homer's heaven was an Elysium At earth's terminus ; a plain That never knew a sunset, When doth Rhadamanthus reign. Hessiod's heaven is what he calls The islands of the blest ; Three times a year are flowers blooming Games and music are the best. 226 REFUGE. The Scandinavian's favored heaven Was where the god Odin dines In the sacred temple of Walhalla Dispensing richest wines. The Mohammadan's celestial paradise Is where Al Sirat bridge is crossed ; When they revel in endless sensuality — Are in vain pleasures lost. The American aborigines looked forward To a heavenly hunting ground. Where deers and buffalo abounded, Persued by the swiftest hound. The mythological view of heaven, Was the dark Tartarean shore. Guarded by the hound Cerberus ; The Styx, were the spirits all rowed o'er. The blatant infidel and skeptic, Has no heaven him to bless ; He lives and breathes like the animal. Dying, sinks into nothingness. But the Christian's new Jerusalem Is large and high and deep and broad Enough to contain earth's ransomed millions. From creation's dawn till day of judgment. Who seek the salvation of our God. REFUGE. "Who have fled for refuge to lay hold on the hope set before us." Heb. 6:8. Oh, ye who have wandered as sinners abroad. Flee from the domains of lewdness and sin ; And onward fast press to the kingdom of God, That ye, your redemption may win. Into the city of refuge, the doors open wide ; Friends now anchored safely, your coming await; And you are assuredly on the safe side. Once you have entered the "Beautiful gate." THE ORACLE. The ransomed of ages for refuge ha\'e tied, Now live in the sanetified fold. Arise fro^m your Sodom, the city now dead, For that one of pure sapphire and gold, And you, the unsaved, I entreat you to flee. For the avenger now in a spirit of wrath, May as an enemy swift be pursuing thee : Death will be yours if found in his path. If you are now a lone exile and roam, Death eternal may your penalty be. Are not the inducements of a safe home, Incentives to '^ause you to flee? Then haste to this glorified city of peace, Whose walls of salvation are grand ; Where the songs of redemption never shall cease, In this healthful and exquisite land. Not for Israel alone, but the gentile too. Are its portals wide open thrown. Oh, pilgrim, make haste, a place is for you, Where no wave of oppression is known. Seek refuge, we, to the unrighteous cry: Let nothing retard thee in flight. Why outside remain and eternally die. With the city of refuge in sight? Has your life been all wrong, the avenger rs near? Go, be washed in a fountain that's clean ; For the city of refuge is year after year, A retreat from defilement and sin. Eternal city of refuge in heaven above, The sanctified home of the blest ; May we be caught up in the arms of His love. And remain as a permanent guest. THE ORACLE. The oracle further is silent. Pray ponder well what you read ; A very small truth will be of value, If you its teachings only heed. 228 TEMPEUANCE POEMtS. The "Delphian" oracle is silent: The oracles of God still show We have a divine oracular priest, AVho reveals to us all we need to know. The prophetic oracle still speaketh ; Revelation still doth bring Answers to our souls inquiries, From the throne and palace of the king. The orb of revelation ne'er shone clearer Than in our twentieth century day; The way faring man tho' a fool Cannot err upon the king's highway. TEMPERANCE POEMS. "Touch not, taste not, handle not." ''Abstain from all appearance of evil." New Testament. ''Oh, that men will put into their mouths What steals away their brain." — Shakespeare. The war's upon us. "Delenda est Carthago." Carthage must be destroyed, The war's upon us — let it come; Pulverize the power of rum ; Break the power that fain would bind, . With chains and fetters all mankind. Bow not to rum the suppliant knee ; Maintain your right — you're born free ; Sell not your body or your souls To sneaking, prowling human ghouls. Shall a hundred thousand ropers stand Dealing out death throughout the land? Adding fumes to the fire of hell — Leaving woe where peace should dwell. Shall widow's sighs and orphan's tears With burning pangs and pains and fears, To humble peaceful dwellings come? Must all be sacrified to rum? A EUINED LIFE 229 Shall that fond father's darling boy, His mother's hope and future joy Be led a captive — die a slave And fill a drunkard's wretched eravt Shall that dear mother filled with grief. Seek the grave to find relief, And want and woe their sorrows trace Where happiness should find a place? Shall that poor creature, suffering wife, Be made tO' eat the dregs of life — Lack every bliss that makes a home, To prop and feed the power of rum ? Shall those poor chidren, pale and gaunt. Clad in rags and trained to want, Be miade to feel the curse of rum? Strike these devil's workers dumb ! Destroyed must be this Hydra head That desolation round hath spread : Forever slain must be the foe, Whose vials pour out wrath and woe. Arouse, ye freemen, in your might ! Strike for God and win the fight; May O Lord thy kingdom come ; Pulverize the power of rum ! A RUINED LIFE^An Imitation. I stood at eve as the sun sank down By a grave where a brother lies. Whose life was bright as the lilies white; And heaven's azure shone in his eyes ; But he gave away to the siren's song ; He fell from ambition's height, For the gilded saloons led him along, And he fell in his manhood bright. 230 A RUINED LIFE. Yet a lesson we fain would learn to-day From the garden above his dust. How the good and the strong can be led away, As well as the wise and just. By the tempter's art and the sparkling wine, This youthful and manly breast. In whose soul was the instinct of manhood fine, Was consigned to his grave to rest. In the spring-time fair when the meadows were Aglow with carnations red, Our generous hero, youthful and fair, To his inamorata was wed, The two started out in the battle of life. But drinks overshadowing blight, Soon clouded the prospects of man and wife, And their hopes sank down in night. Ere many years had passed them by, Instead of a happy wedded life, Rumors through the air began to fly, That spoke of the drunkard's wife : Of her wretched lot, her forsaken boy. Of a man who in manhood fell, Who neglected to make his home his joy, — Who' sank down from heaven to hell. A useful lesson we may learn to-day, Ere the hope of our life be passed ; That millions are falling the self-same way, And are dying drunkards at last. An important lesson w^e learn to-day. From the garden above his dust : Abstain, abstain from the cup that may Render your life and being cursed. God pity the poor inebriate ! Save him from a life of shame — His inexorable and cruel fate. And heaven will bless your name. Touch not taste not, nor handle the thing, I entreat you with living voice ; In heaven's name and the joys it mav bring, To-day make the proper choice. Note. — 'Tnamorata," a lady lover. CAUSE OF Bad times. 231 CAUSE OF BAD TIMES. I never saw the times so hard, Prices ranging cheap or dear, But men to make their spirits glad, Have ''soaked" their heads in beer. They then to tone their appetites. Pour the poisoned "spirits" down; . Till hoopsey-doodle, flipity-flop, They anchor on the ground. I have never seen the times so hard. But men would march in line Without a circumspect regard. And gulp diluted wine. Poor, besotted reveling mortals, They to Bacchus all resign ; Till hoopsey-doodle flipity-flop, They look like human swine ! None ever saw the times so' hard. But men could take a spree, Without showing the least regard If they were out at the knee. It matters little if children cry. Or mothers beg for bread : There hoopsey-doodle flipity-flop, The pavement strikes his head ! I never saw the times so hard, The weather wet or dry, But men will find some good excuse Toi soak themselves in "rye." Thus the evil spirit of the "still" — Juice of the fiery bug. Ah, hoopsey-doodle flipity-flop, Its victim's grave hath dug! I never- saw the times so hard. But better might have been. Would rnen not burn their soul-case out. By filling up with gin. 232 THE WINE GOBLET. While there are millions spent for drink, There are thousands spent for bread ; Till hoopsey-doodle flipity-flop The drunkard's badly bled ! I never saw the times so hard In times of strike of peace, But true prosperity is marred When drinking does increase. I warn you every mother's son, Don't spend your life in vain. Till hoopsey-doodle flipity-flop You are among the slain. I never knew the times so hard, The prices high or low, But men will fill their waist-coats with An unrelenting foe. Strike down this evil in our land ; Let temperance reign once more, Till ours shall be a m.odel nation, To Columbia's furthest shore. THE WINE GOBLET. "Come send round the wine and leave points of belief to simpl ton sages and reasoning fools." — Moore. Moore has sung us a song in praise of the wine, As he boastingly, gleefully laughs ; Filling the sparkling goblet to the brim, Like men of less note, mockingly quafifs. But strangely omitting the sequel to tell, Of the end of the drunken spree ; Of the pain-racked head and beclouded brains, Of the midnight worthless debauchee. He'also omits to truthfully tell Of the serpents that lurk in the bowl. Whose fangs are fastened into the brain. Whose fire kindled consumes the soul. Come ye topers, leave the board laden with wine, And leaving out points of belief. For what little reason you now possess. Shall depart from your brain as a thief. THE EICH SALOONIST. 233 Of "simpleton sages," the author doth speak; The mocker makes it a rule to scoff ;^ But it is wiser to act like sober men, Than hogs drinking swill in the trough. The man who avoids this blasting curse, Can afford to let scoffers sneer ; And all the hosts on the devil's side, However much they miay crow and cheer. In condemnation of "reasoning fools," The author wbuld tauntingly write. Glossing o'er the demons of wine-bred Bacchus, That are born in the wine at night. Be a man or a woman and dare to refuse ; Take warning by thousands that fell ; For a ruined life gives no compensation, Exchange not your heaven for hell. THE RICH SALOONIST. Clad in broad-cloth and fine linen, With an overflowing till, While no want nor destitution, Can this splendid homestead fill, This lordly creature of "high license' Treads in fine furnished halls ; And exulting views with pleasure, The rich pictures on his walls. His neighbor just across the alley, A poor woman lacks her bread ; Oft, during night's silent watches. She wishes that she was dead. The man who vowed to support her. To always be her stay, To this man's capacious barroom, At nights will wend his way. Hear strains of voluptuous music. Softly floating in the air; See that wife with jeweled fingers. Her children looking fair ; 234 WHAT A GA]>LON OF WHISKEY DID. But not many squares away, Sits a mother bent with griei ; On her face there broods a sorrow, For which there is no relief. Dread valley of the Upas tree. Filled with dead men's bones ; But worse this school of vice and crime, The worst of any age or time ; Oh, hear creation's groans, How long shall this death-dealing blight, Kill the fairest of our race. Men's blessings all exterminate. Leaving the finale or disgrace? WHAT A GALLON OF WHISKEY DID. Let us see what a gallon of whiskey did: Ofif the mouth of hell it opened the lid ; It made a peaceful man insane, Poisoned his heart, maddened his brain. And did as readily will be seen, Transformed a man into a fiend ; It destroyed the peace of home and life; And ruined the happiness of a wife; And homeless children now can tell. Of this remorseless fiend of hell. It led him to do^ as many before. To take an axe and break down the door; The imprisoned wife away to keep. Thro' the window takes a fearful leap ; She alights on the ground in dismal dread. And picks herself up in a manner dead. The poor old grandmother nigh four-score, Is knocked by him, down on the filthy floor; A cut from a glass is seen near her crown, From which the blood came trickling down. This wretched creature, insane and wild. Attempts the life of his wife and child ; The children cry in awful despair, Their own and their mother's life to spare, Would that we could cover this scene of shame THE DEADLY ENEMY 235 The lamp was upset, the house took flame ; By some miraculous power, no doubt, The flames were extinguished and put out. Yet this is a business that Christian men, Uphold with their vote, and tongue and pen. A family ruined and left to bear The sting of disgrace, instead of care; Behind prison bars now shivering stands, The wretch of a man with blood on his hands, With a soul polluted, cursed from on high, Too wretched to live, too' wicked to die. No repentance is his; cup full of sin; No' religion without when hell is within. A picture like this we fain would hide ; But this demon of drink shows the darker side, Note. — This incident is literally true. THE DEIADLY EINEMY. That this an enlightened Christian nation, Is by all countries understood ; But the greater part of modern Christians, Labors not for its highest good. Chris