:pk;IOe so cezst 
 
 MORE TRUTH THAN POETRY, 
 
 -BY- 
 
 ^ 
 
 MRS. EUREXXA WHEBUER. 
 
 Lopyrlghted, 1891 
 
fVIORE 
 
 TRUTH THAN POETRY. 
 
 BY^ 
 
 MRS. EUREXXA WHEELER. 
 
 
 BINGHAMTON, N. Y. 
 
 "«. R. UACON, JOB PRINTER, Il6 STATE STREET. 
 
 189I. 
 
 \ 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 To THE Public : 
 
 This little book which I oft'er to a sensible public is one of originality 
 written and arranged while discharging my daily household duties, re- 
 cording thoughts as they flowed in the channel of understanding. If 
 this production is acceptable and appreciated by the reader I shall reap 
 all I anxiously expect. Hoping it may find favor and be a household 
 friend, I remain with sincere respect. Yours Truly, 
 
 Mr.s. Eurkita Wheeler. 
 
 / 
 
A GOODLY THOUGHT 
 
 I gaze around the universe 
 s. And view its features grand, 
 
 ^ Which bear the impress everywhere 
 
 j^ Of an ahnighty hand. 
 
 ^ The glowing sun, whose dazzling beams 
 
 rv Sends forth a golden rav, 
 
 ^ As on his burning throne he dwells 
 
 'Mid never ending day. 
 
 A The silvery moon, whose milder beams, 
 ?V~ Attend us as we roll, 
 
 ^ And breathes to us throughout the night, 
 -. /^ Of our immortal soul. 
 
 1^1 The glistening stars whose gleaming light 
 
 vv Was of intrinsic worth, 
 
 ^ When they assisted long ago 
 
 Unto the Saviour's birth. 
 
 The mountains vast which to the skies 
 Rear their majestic forms — 
 
 Upon whose heights Jehovah stood, 
 Amidst the whirlwind's storms. 
 
 The boundless sea whose restless waves 
 
 Forever onward roll. 
 And seem at times to be possessed 
 
 With an uncouquered soul. 
 
 Then as I gaze upon the works 
 Of my Creator's hand, 
 
 Which all their offices perform 
 Unto his least command. 
 
 I ponder in my inmost soul 
 And wonder at the cause, 
 
 That God can so regard a man 
 W^ho disregards His laws. 
 
 LIFE'S DISAPPOINTMENTS. 
 
 Though to-day the roses blossom, 
 On the morrow they will die. 
 
 And the sunbeams glowing brightly 
 Will have faded from the sky. 
 
 And the friends you've loved the dearest 
 To your heart, shall prove untrue. 
 
And yonr dreams of earthly heaven 
 All be hidden from your view. 
 
 Oh the fair and glowing visions 
 
 Greeting us on life's fair morn, 
 Which as forth we go to meet them. 
 
 Die as quickly as they're born. 
 Oh the phantom form of pleasure 
 
 Which we eagerly have grasped, 
 But to find a withered spectre 
 
 In our warm embraces clasped. 
 
 Oh the cup of bliss untasted 
 
 Which we once had thought to quaff, 
 Oh the wheat we thought to gather 
 
 Where we nothing found but chaff, 
 Oh the bitter disappointments 
 
 We have met with on the waj' ; 
 Only night and gloomy shadows 
 
 Where we looked for brightest day. 
 
 Though the morn of life was joyous 
 
 Yet our blisses faded soon 
 And of much of bitter sorrow 
 
 Had we tasted ere 'twas noon, 
 For the waters of affliction 
 
 Have encompassed us about,- 
 And the night of life is troubled 
 
 With anxiety and doubt. 
 
 Then though roses bloom in splendor 
 
 And upon the morrow die 
 Yet their germs will grow and quicken 
 
 Into beauty by and b}^ 
 For as seeds will not enliven 
 
 Lest the parent blossom dies, 
 So the soul from out the ruins 
 
 Of afflictions shall arise 
 To become a glorious blossom 
 
 For the realms of Paradise. 
 
 YHARNINGS. 
 
 As the fever heated patient longeth for the cooling streams, 
 
 Babbles of them in delerium, hears their murmur in his 
 dreams; 
 
 So my heart forever yearneth for that home beyond the 
 skies 
 
 Where my loved ones wait my coming in the realms of Par- 
 adise. 
 
There tlhey re^t"besidethe waters, flowing through tlie "pas- 
 tures green, 
 .•A..S they dwell 'mid scenes celestial fairer thau our e,ves hath 
 
 seen, 
 "AVhere the flowers forever Wossom and the birds forevet 
 
 sing, 
 In the glowing vales ©f Eden in the country of our King 
 There the serrow laden spirit sweetest rest shall find mui 
 
 peace. 
 For that golden country entered, all oEr cares asid troubles 
 
 cease, 
 And as sunshine seems the brighcest after nights of darkest 
 
 gloom. 
 So the sweete!«fc joys await us at the entrance of tire tomb. 
 Then no woudec that my spirit sinking 'neath its weight of 
 
 care, 
 Anxiously awaits the smmmcns to that land s© bright and 
 
 fair, 
 "Where the glorious voice of angels in triumphant song ari^e 
 As thej dwell in joy forex^er in the realms of Paradise. 
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL LAND. 
 
 There""* a beautiful laud that I see in my dreams 
 With magnificent gardens and fountains and streamy 
 Where no withering blight on its inmates shall fall. 
 And the light of the spirit illuminates alL 
 
 ''Tis the land of the soul, 'tis the home of the blest, 
 AVhere the poor weary spirit from trouble may rest 
 With the latnbs of the flock in their beautiful fold, 
 When the storms of this life all beyond it have rolled. 
 
 There's a glorious stream in that beautiful land, 
 Of whose waters which flow over glistening sand, 
 You may drink and forget all your sorrow and strife, 
 And the wame of that stream is the Ri^'>er of Life. 
 
 There's an all healing balm in that beautiful land 
 For the souls who temptations and trials withstand ; 
 And that balm all the woe of the spirit shall cure, 
 If the strife to the end of the race we endure^ 
 There's no darkness or night in that beautiful land, 
 Which the spirit illumines with radiance grand. 
 And the end never comes to the ransomed soul, 
 For those ages of bliss shall eternally roll. 
 Then I pray I may keep in the way that is right 
 'Till my soul from this body of clay take its flight 
 To the home of the blest on that glorious strand, 
 Safe at last in the realms of that beautiful land. 
 
ACTS OF KINDNESS, 
 
 This life is too short to be trifled away 
 
 111 hatred's conte-fitions or useless displaj' ; 
 
 Oh better, far better it is to perform 
 
 Some action of kindness to keep the heart warm.. 
 
 There's many a person each day that we meet 
 At home or abroad, in the workshop or street, 
 Whose lives would be better and nobler by far 
 If they had to guide them sweei friendships, bright star. 
 
 There's man)' a heart that is aching with pain, 
 A striving to stand against scorn and disdain, 
 Whose bitterest sorrow would soon disappear, 
 With actions of kindness their pathway to cheer. 
 
 There's plent}' of work if you're willing to do, 
 The sad and the weary from trouble to woo, 
 A gentle word here and a pleasant smile there, 
 And many a heart is relieved of its care. 
 
 Make smaoth the rough places for faltering feet. 
 Give to the down trodden encouragement sweet, 
 And whisper of Heaven to spirits that mourn. 
 And lighten each burden too heavily borne. 
 
 Then bright and resplendent your harvest shall be. 
 Full ten-fold you've given returning to thee. 
 And happy you'll be, you was led to perform 
 Such actions of kindness to keep the heart warm. 
 
 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 When this crushed and broken spirit 
 
 Goes unto its final rest. 
 And these weary hands are folded 
 
 O'er this still and pulseless breast. 
 And the fire of sense and reason 
 
 Ivie in ashes 'neath this brow. 
 Will the world which judges harshly 
 
 Judge as harshly then as now ? 
 
 I have tried to do my duty. 
 
 Striven hard to walk aright. 
 But the ones who should have helped me 
 
 Made my burden far from light, 
 And when standing on the margin 
 
 Of the fearful gulf of sin, 
 They who should have tried to save me 
 
 Strove to push me farther in. 
 
7 
 
 It is hard to have to buffet 
 
 All the storms of life alone, 
 Knowing that your very neigh1)or 
 
 Hopes to see you overthrown, 
 Hard to stand and vainly struggle 
 
 'Gainst an all opposing tide. 
 Knowing that your purest motives 
 
 Are on every hand belied. 
 
 It is hard to face the forces 
 
 In a battle so unjust, 
 Knowing you'll receive no mercy 
 
 'Til 3'ou're humbled in the dust, 
 And although within your spirit 
 
 You can but despise them all. 
 It but makes them in their fury. 
 
 More determined you shall fall. 
 
 I am weary and discouraged 
 
 With this war of hate and strife. 
 And I at my Maker's option 
 
 Gladly would lay down my life. 
 And when I with willing spirit 
 
 Unto Death's decree shall bow. 
 Will the world which judges harshly 
 
 Judge as harshly then as now? 
 
 FAINT NOT. 
 
 Faint n®t, oh weary spirit. 
 
 Sink not beneath thy cares, 
 For from the deepest shadows 
 
 A light breaks unawares ; 
 And what thou deem'st misfortunes 
 
 A benefit may prove, 
 ,The way that God has taken 
 
 To try }'our faith and love. 
 
 Faint not although thy pathway 
 
 Is now bestrewn with throus. 
 For from the darkest midnights 
 
 Spring forth the brightest morns ; 
 And where the way is shrouded 
 
 With shadows from the tomb, 
 'Twill soon break forth to sunshine. 
 
 To beautv and to bloom. 
 
riien faint not, oh my spfn'f,. 
 
 But struggle bravely ou, 
 For-somi before thy vision 
 
 A glorious day shall dawn ; 
 And know oh soul the greater 
 
 The cross which liear you bear,. 
 The brighter will the crown' be 
 
 Which, you in Heaven' shall wear- 
 
 OUTOFTHRDHPTHS. 
 
 Jehovah called and from the depths>= 
 
 Glistened to his voice, 
 As he in tones of sweet connnand 
 
 My spirit bade rejoice, 
 And bid my soul that long had lain? 
 
 In bondages and thralls. 
 To now escape from durance vile 
 
 A.nd scale its prison walls 
 And I with with joy unspeakable 
 
 His mandates did obey. 
 As He my soul from death and night 
 
 Brought forth to life and day. 
 
 This spirit which had" d'ormanit Taina 
 
 Within the pit immured, 
 Now purified from earthly dros» 
 
 By woes it has endured, 
 lie bids from trammels to be ff-ee,. 
 
 And from the depths to rise,. 
 And pierce the nxxghty universe^ 
 
 And soar beyond the skies, 
 And though I've pondered in nry soulf,. 
 
 And vainly sought to know 
 Why He the King of Heaven shoulcB 
 
 Such gifts on me bestow. 
 
 Tis all in vain but unto Tliee 
 
 For all thy gracious ways, 
 My soul in reverence doth bow,. 
 
 And yield undying praise. 
 
 THE CITY OF REST 
 
 As I sat at my casement'oue eve long age, 
 
 As the golden sun sank in the west ; 
 It did seem as I looked through a rift in the cloudsf 
 
 I could see the fair City of Rest. 
 Oh the bright Jasper walls of thai city I saw. 
 
And the streets of pure gold I could see, 
 And the river of life as it rolled froui the throne, 
 With its glorious waters so free. 
 
 Ikit the sight to mine eyes the most blissful of all, 
 
 Was the face of the crucified one. 
 And the light from His features so holy and grand 
 
 Far exceeded the light|of the sun, 
 And I saw 'niong the angels who worshipped Him there 
 
 Many friends who had died long ago, 
 Whose trials and troubles have all passed away. 
 
 And the}' tread where the still waters flow. 
 
 They shall rest evermore in those pastures so green, 
 With their souls free from sorrow and strife, 
 
 I'or they conquered the world and their names are all writ 
 With the saints in the lamb's book of life. 
 
 And they beckon to me from that faraway shore. 
 
 And I long in my soul to be there. 
 When begirt with temptations too strong to resist, 
 
 And my cross seems too heavy to bear, 
 Then the great clouds of crimson and purple and gold. 
 
 Rolled together away in the west ; 
 Sliutting out from my view all those visions so fair, 
 
 Of that beautiful City ot Rest. 
 
 T'was a fancy I know that was born in the brain, 
 
 And a yearning for something more pure, 
 But as long as these pulses this bosom shall thrill, 
 
 The bright scenes of that land shall endure, 
 And when torn in the conflict of right with the wrong. 
 
 And temptations grow strong in my breast, 
 I pray in my heart and my spirit grows strong 
 
 As I think of that City of Rest. 
 
 GONE BEFORE 
 
 They are not dead, the friends we mourn, 
 
 Not dead but gone before, 
 And while we grieve their hearts rejoice 
 
 With Christ forever more. 
 
 Our tears fall o'er the marble form, 
 From us so rudely torn we think, 
 
 But do not think their feet 
 Were wearv, tired, and worn. 
 
 Nor do we know how much their souls 
 With sorrows were oppressed. 
 
 But God, the poor tired hearts hath seen, 
 And taken them to rest. 
 
i<y 
 
 TTs Sard to part from those we- lo\'tf^ 
 
 And oh what Bitter pain, 
 To know the lips we'\-e kissed; scoff 
 
 Shall ne'er respond again- 
 
 V'o know those sightless ^eath diinim«d e^'KK- 
 
 Shall never more a-wake, 
 -ind when we know that death has w-oia. 
 
 It seetiitB our hearts would bieak. 
 
 And when the palid fbmr is laidJ 
 
 At rest beneath the sod', 
 it seems uuto tire saddened soul 
 
 There's nothing left hvA God. 
 
 We should not grieve o^er lifeless ela^^ 
 
 With aching heart and sore^ 
 9or they're not dead, the friends we nijoiisrTir, 
 
 N.ot dead but gone before. 
 
 TONDERrN:G. 
 
 I tvonder if there is-aIan<J 
 
 Away beyond the ^y. 
 With pastures cTothed in living greer? 
 
 And fk)wers that never die. 
 Where sorrowed hearts that cou-ntzy gainjecJ, 
 
 Are never known tcsigh. 
 
 I wonder if the soul shall lose 
 
 Its heavy weight of sin. 
 And all its cares and sorrows seem® 
 
 As though they had not been ; 
 While joy and peace reign in their stead. 
 
 That country entered in, 
 
 I wonder if the scornful words. 
 
 And bitter sneers unkind. 
 Of those who hated us on earth 
 
 Are ever brought to mind ; 
 Or shall they be with sin and woe. 
 
 Forever brought to mind. 
 
 I wonder if the toiling poor, 
 
 By woeful want oppressed, 
 Who scarce can keep the soul alive 
 
 Within the etar-vdng breast, 
 So loud the wolf knocks at the door. 
 
 Shall plenty find and rest. 
 
VI 
 
 T wonder if the soul shall meet 
 
 Within that spirit land, 
 With friends who left them Imig ago 
 
 To join that angel band, 
 -And if they'll know each other ther« 
 
 Aaid clasp the kindly hand. 
 
 Then if there is snch a wondrous land 
 
 To gain it I shall try. 
 And frotn this hour I'll seek to place 
 
 My treasures upon high. 
 Where moth and rust doth nolcorrsipt 
 
 AjQd pleasures Jiever die. 
 
 RULE OF LIFE- 
 
 As I the way of life pursue, 
 X,et me unto myself be true, 
 And yield t-o all their due respect, 
 INor unto any show neglect. 
 But prove myself unto the end, 
 A generous foe and faithful friend. 
 JSTe^'er let me frawn unto the great. 
 
 Nor sneer at those of low estate ; 
 But give me a well balanced mind, 
 That I may justly treat mankind, 
 Nor do an act I've judged as mean. 
 When I've that thing an others seen. 
 
 AVTien friends in whom I've put my trust, 
 Into my heart a sword shall thrust, 
 And 'gainst me in their souls devise 
 A thousand wicked sland'rous lies, 
 I<et me not give as I've received, 
 But live so they wont be believed. 
 
 Let me be found a trusty friend. 
 On whom my neighbor can depend, 
 And though report be good or ill, 
 A faithful friend they'll find me still, 
 Who to the end will see them through. 
 Nor judge none false 'til proved untrue. 
 
 If I perchance much gold should win, 
 
 Let me but count it as a sin 
 
 To hoard it while both want and woe 
 
 1 may relieve as on I go ; 
 
 And deem it lent me but to bless 
 
 And aid the poor in their distress. 
 
If on his way m}- foe should fall, 
 Or should be driven to the wall, 
 L,et not my spirit be so bad 
 As at his failure to be glad, 
 But rather lend a helping hand 
 And yield my gold to his command. 
 
 Let me not think to thrive and grow 
 
 TJpon the ruins of a foe, 
 
 Nor strive to glorify my fame 
 
 By adding to another's shame, 
 
 And when I can but illy speak 
 
 Of others let me silent keep. 
 
 If on my way I come across 
 A man who faints beneath the loss 
 Of character and wealth and friends, 
 Let me for their loss make amends ; 
 Befriend him in his woeful plight, 
 And lead him once more to the light. 
 
 Thus may I live a peaceful life, 
 All free from discord, hate and strife, 
 That He may say, who rules above. 
 And shields us by His mighty love, 
 When I the race of life have run : 
 Thou faithful servant 'tis well done. 
 
 MY FLOWERS OF PARADISH. 
 
 On Duty's dark and cheerless shrine 
 
 I sacrificed my love, 
 And saw the treasure of my heart 
 
 In incense float above ; 
 And as it unto Heaven soared 
 
 In undulating swells. 
 It changed into a garland fair 
 
 Of Heavenly Asphodels, 
 Which angels grasped and bore awav 
 
 To realms beyond the skies. 
 And there my flowers of Love shall bloom 
 
 For me in Paradise. 
 
 And from the embers on that shrine 
 
 A beauteous flower arose. 
 Whose fragrance soothes the bosom's pangs 
 
 And heals the spirit's woes. 
 Which round the pathway of the soul, 
 
 With its immortal bloom, 
 
^3 
 
 -A itazzliiig radiance doth shed. 
 And beautifies the tomb ; 
 
 -\iid wlien this soul at last is free 
 To soar beyond the skies, 
 
 This flower of Duty too shall .bloom 
 JFor Jiie in Paradise. 
 
 K1:ST. 
 
 Ve ■wholieavy laden are, 
 
 Who beneath yoiir burdens beTid ; 
 j[^alx>ring be3'OTid y-our strength. 
 
 Come and T will be your frietid;; 
 I will bear3'ou in m}- arms; 
 
 T will shield you on my breast; 
 •Come you sorrow laden souls, 
 
 Come and I will give yon re^ 
 
 'Ye whose lives are full of ^oe, 
 
 One long round of trouble here, 
 Having not a ray of hope. 
 
 All your lonely vray to cheeT; 
 Take upon ye now my yo'ke, 
 
 Heed \-enow my fond request, 
 And yourbiirdens on me cast, 
 
 And I'll give your spirits re^^ 
 
 WORDS OP PRAISH. 
 
 If I may, by a word of praise. 
 
 Or kindly action cheer 
 The path of sorrow's struggling child, 
 
 Which erstwhile was so drear ; 
 Or bring a ray of light and warmth 
 
 Unto the heart that's cold, 
 My spirit must be mean indeed. 
 
 Such kindness to with-hold. 
 
 A word of praise unto the soul. 
 
 That strives to do its best, 
 May fan to flames the fires divine, 
 
 W'hich slumber in the breast. 
 And quicken in the torpid mind 
 
 Ambitions and desires, 
 Which may enlighten all the world 
 
 Throueh their refulsrent fires. 
 
14 
 
 Some souls on oppositions thrive, 
 
 But more on honest praise, 
 And when my own was weathering 
 
 Its very darkest days ; 
 A word of sweet encouragement 
 
 Brought forth unto the light, 
 The spirit which so long had dwelt 
 
 In the abodes of night. 
 
 Though open praise they claim's disgrace, 
 
 I see no reason wh}' ; 
 For surely without light or sun 
 
 The strongest plant will die; 
 Nor can I see what hurt 'twill do 
 
 To speak the good I think. 
 Nor how 'twill harm the thirsty soul 
 
 Of honest praise to drink, 
 And if I by encouragement 
 
 May warm the heart that's cold, 
 My spirit must bejmean indeed 
 
 Due praises to with-hold. 
 
 RELIGION AND CREED, 
 
 My sins they did condemn me. 
 
 And so I thought I'd try 
 To find the way to Heaven 
 
 Before 'twas time to die ; 
 And as my mind was doubtful 
 
 Wherein my duty la}', 
 I thought I'd seek the shepherds 
 
 And have them show the way. 
 
 I found a Baptist preacher 
 
 And talked with him a while. 
 He said that he with water 
 
 Could wash away my guile ; 
 But for though I lived religion 
 
 And did my duty well. 
 Without this one condition 
 
 My soul would go to hell. 
 
 This seemed so very narrow 
 
 I left him on the spot. 
 And to the Parish Bishop 
 
 Myself I quickly got ; 
 He said I must do penance 
 
 The forty days of Lent, 
 And then it didn't matter 
 
 How other time was spent. 
 
15 
 
 This seemed too great a license 
 
 So to a Priest I hied, 
 Who, Protestant religion 
 
 Most bitterly decryed, 
 And said 'twas well I came to him 
 
 For 'twas essential, very, 
 That I my sins to him confess 
 
 And pray to Virgin Mar)\ 
 
 T didn't like his logic 
 
 So to a Methodist 
 I went with my petit'on. 
 
 Who did my story list, 
 And said that all 'twas needed 
 
 Was there to take my place, 
 And I would soon be perfect 
 
 Through ever growing grace. 
 
 This didn't seem sufficient. 
 
 And so I then besought 
 A Presbyterian preacher. 
 
 And this is what he thought : 
 That what's to be will surely be, 
 
 And that we must expect. 
 But if I'd come with him I might 
 
 Be one of the elect. 
 
 I turned away in sorrow, 
 
 For not a single word 
 Concerning Christian duty 
 
 Had I from any heard ; 
 Nor how to find religion; 
 
 So homeward I did turn. 
 To look within mj' bible, 
 
 To see if I could learn. 
 
 " Then love ye one another " 
 
 Were just the words I saw, 
 For therein lie the Prophets, 
 
 Religion and the Law. 
 And I've about concluded 
 
 That what the people need. 
 Is ratlfer more Religion 
 
 And rather less of Creed. 
 
 THE DIFFERENCE. 
 
 When a man is dead and buried, 
 Of his virtues how we preach. 
 
 But when he was living with us. 
 Very diffrent was our speech ; 
 
x6 
 
 1-1 IieVi not condone oitr A-ices 
 
 Or could see' in us a fault, 
 We would smirch his reputation, 
 
 An^ Wis character assaulL 
 
 We would strike hi^m in the dark,nesH:„ 
 
 Smite him when he could not see:. 
 Strive to- n>ake him out a rascal, 
 
 Better though, he was than we — 
 And if others wsrll bespoke hiin 
 
 We woiild listen with a sneer. 
 And with meanest inuendotS; 
 
 Make him at his worst appear: 
 
 Now, the pallid corpse arraigns us 
 
 For the evil that ws did ; 
 And we fain would shut his ujem'ry 
 
 Safe within the coffin lid ; 
 And our conscience now awakened^ 
 
 Crieth bitterly, forgive. 
 And remorse within our bosoms^ 
 
 To our d\nng day shall live. 
 
 Roses plant we o'er his- body ; 
 
 Thorns we gave him when alive^ 
 And for e\nl that we did him 
 
 Now, to make amends- we strive. 
 But it nothing now availeth,. 
 
 For repentance came too late^ 
 And he cannot hear our praises, 
 
 Though they reach, to Heaven's gate- 
 Then beware of evil speaking. 
 
 Be it of a foe or friend ■;. 
 For you'll surely see your folly 
 
 When it i& too late to mend ; 
 And may this, our sad experience. 
 
 To our souls- this lesson teach — 
 To' be kinder to the living 
 
 Ere they pass beyond our reach. 
 
 Your character and your repute 
 
 Are similar as brothers ; 
 Your character you make yourself— 
 
 Your reputation others ; 
 And though your character may be. 
 
 As pure as at creation, 
 You still may have through sland'rous tongue.'^ 
 
 The vilest reputation. 
 
IT (^,Oi:S ACAINST THE GRAIN- 
 
 When I see a foul injustice done, beneath niy very nose ; 
 When I see a churlish upstart treading on his neighbor's toes; 
 When I see a poor man struggle 'gainst oppression all in vain, 
 'Till he sinks beneath his burden, how it goes against the 
 grain ! 
 
 When I see a man insulted, and then injured by a lout. 
 Whom in trouble he befriended, and with money helped 
 
 him out. 
 When no other man would trust him, and then lets him plead 
 
 in vain, 
 I'or the justice he refuseth, how it goes against the grain ! 
 
 When I see a scornful woman shrug her shoulders with a 
 
 sneer. 
 When a weak and erring sister, in her presence doth appear ; 
 Whilst the poor repentant woman, tries her footing to regain. 
 She still lower tries to push her, how it goes against the grain! 
 
 When I see a humble person enter in the house of God, 
 And on every hand is greeted fey the cold looks ol* he proud — 
 'Till he feels that Jesus' mission on this earth has been in 
 
 vain, 
 And retires with bioken spirit, how it goes against the grain! 
 
 When 1 see a rank injustice done because it is the law ; 
 And the greedy rich man gathers in his great rapacious maw, 
 All the substance that the poor man long has labored for 
 
 in vain. 
 And forecloses then his mortgage, how it goes against the 
 
 grain ! 
 
 When I see a righteous movement strive against a mighty 
 
 wrong, 
 (For the fittest scarce surviveth, but in story and in song.) 
 And the nobler effort faileth with its labor all in vain. 
 While the evil reigns triumphant, how it goes against the 
 
 grain ! 
 
 But the time is drawing nearer, when oppressor and op- 
 pressed, 
 Both expect to enter Heaven, there to find eternal rest, 
 And when he the proud aggressor finds his expectations vain. 
 And receives his righteous judgment, will it go against the 
 
 gram 
 
i8 
 
 GRATITUDH 
 
 Oh gratitudp ! Oh gratitude ! 
 
 Thou boon of peerless price, 
 I scarce!}' think the selfsame breast 
 
 Hath known thy presence twice ; 
 Or, what is worse than that by half. 
 
 When I the facts recall ; 
 I think there's hardly one in ten, 
 
 Who knows thy worth at all. 
 
 The more a man will do for us, 
 
 The more wt want him to ; 
 Then merely kick him for his pains 
 
 When he has helped us through ; 
 And if perchance the world should turn, 
 
 Upon him with a frown, 
 We haste to be the first to pull 
 
 Our benefactor down. 
 
 The fiercest brute that ever roamed. 
 
 By kindness is subdued ; 
 And even dogs, inferior beasts, 
 
 Will show their gratitude. 
 But man whom God did once create, 
 
 The angels scarce below ; 
 Is just the only creature, who 
 
 Ingratilude will show. 
 
 AN EVIL TONGUE- 
 
 Of all the ills by which we're cursed 
 An evil tongue's by far the worst ; 
 It seems as though a horrid nest 
 Of vipers dwelt within the breast. 
 And aided by the tongue their spite 
 Spit forth in venomous delight. 
 
 The tongue's the key that ope's the door 
 Unto the thoughts we have in store ; 
 And whether they be good or ill, 
 Reveal the truth the tongue it will; 
 For every vrord we speak you'll find — , 
 Their sources have within the mind. 
 
 An evil tongue, oh who can tell 
 The mischief that this member fell, 
 Has wrought upon the heart of man 
 Since first the world its course began; 
 Or count the souls that it hath sent 
 To ruin throusfh its vile intent. 
 
19 
 
 Oh how much sorrow it ^•asc"rsed, 
 How many faithful friends been lost, 
 How man}- enemies been gained, 
 How man)' loving hearts bten pained, 
 And with the deepest anguish wrung 
 By its foul means, an evil tongue. 
 
 Oh is there then, no way that we 
 Rid of this fearful curse can be ; 
 Refine the heart, from that proceeds 
 All evil words as^well as deeds ; 
 And when the stream's cleansed at its source, 
 Pure then 'twill flow along its course. 
 
 WHALTH \'S- WORTH- 
 
 'Tis wealth and not worth that commands the respect 
 Of the people who dwell in this land. 
 
 And if you've but dollars though fool or a rogue, 
 All society's at your command. 
 
 Your father and mother might both have been lumg, 
 
 And you too, if you had your desert. 
 But never you mind if you've plenty of gold, 
 
 For 'twill hide every vestige of dirt. 
 
 But if you are poor though of brains you've a store. 
 And to-da)f should go out on the street, 
 
 'Tis scarcely a smile or a nod of the head, 
 
 You receive trom the friends that you meet. 
 
 But let it be said that a fortune you've heired, 
 
 And to-morrow go out just the same ; 
 Of greetings, handshakings, kind wishes and such. 
 
 All descriptions would be but too tame. 
 This worship of gold you will find in the church, 
 
 Just you enter the door Sundaj' morn. 
 With garments both old and a little threadbare 
 
 And but note how you're treated with scorn. 
 
 Roth pastor and people your presence ignore. 
 
 Not a kindly hand to you is given ; 
 (I can't help but wonder if that's how 'twill be 
 
 When they all live together iu Heaven.) 
 
 Then at eve go again in some costly attire. 
 
 And but note what a difference 'twill make ; 
 
 The very best seat is now offered to you. 
 
 And your hand they all warmly do shake. 
 
Whilst if their Redeemer arrayed in the garb 
 
 That he wore while he toiled here on earth ; 
 Should enter the house dedicated to Him, 
 
 His appearance would only cause mirth. 
 That's pretty strong language I hear some one say. 
 
 But you know just the same that its true ; 
 For genius or brains have no weight with the mass, 
 
 And I fear 'tis the same too with you. 
 For man may be noble, heroic and grand, 
 
 With the best gifts of nature endowed, 
 But if there's no gilding to give them relief, 
 
 No effect do they have with the crowd. 
 .\nd thus vou will find it wherever yon go. 
 
 That if rich yon will ne'er lack a friend, 
 But if you are poor 'twill be counted a loss, 
 
 For which nothing else can amend. 
 Then shame on this toadying worship of gold. 
 
 Which has spread like a bli ^ht o'er the earth ; 
 And recognize man as God meant that yon should, 
 
 For his Intellect, Genius and Worth. 
 
 DON'T RHPINE. 
 
 What though to-day your luck seems lo;t. 
 
 Don't sit and pine in sorrow ; 
 But pluck up heart and go to work. 
 
 For better things to-morrow; 
 For every cloud you know they say- 
 Has got a silver lining. 
 And just beyond the darkest shade. 
 
 The sun is brightly shining. 
 What though your friends prove false to you. 
 
 Your character assailing ; 
 'Twill do no good to sit and mourn. 
 
 Nor railing give for railing ; 
 Keep right to work and let them go, 
 
 Whatever be their versions, 
 And only let it stimulate 
 
 You on to fresh exertions. 
 Then pass along and do your best, 
 
 And things will come out righth' ; 
 And right across your path the sun 
 
 Will soon be shining brightly ; 
 Then take the world just as it conies, 
 
 Nor extra trouble borrow. 
 And you will find as on you climb, 
 
 There's better things to-morrow. 
 
inii SLAi\l)l:RliirS RliBEKM 
 
 '.rbey say tkey (lo -well, le't'them say,, 
 
 I guess I knowthey do:; 
 •And niue tenths of the stuff they tefi 
 
 Is every woid untrue"; 
 And so yoTi need'nt sit mid try 
 
 T© make me take it in, 
 For I'm not overpleased-to hear 
 About youT neighbors sin. 
 
 Vour neighbors sin, concerning fh at. 
 
 I'm sure I do not know, 
 iliut somehow slie'-s displeased ^oli all. 
 
 And so her overthrow 
 "\'ou all together have conspired, 
 
 To someway bring about, 
 And so yoa come to me and throw 
 
 Insinuations out 
 
 "Your neighbors sin consists 1 guess, 
 
 In being fair of face, 
 And having more of natures gifts, 
 
 Than any an the place; 
 -And having seen the little minds, 
 
 For which 3^ou well are known, 
 She does the thing she ought to do. 
 
 And leaves, you all alone, 
 
 -And so together you've conspired, 
 
 To crush her to the ground ; 
 "While ifa^gainst her you were weigher^ 
 
 You wanting would /be found ; 
 .A'nd if one half tlie tilings you do, 
 
 Should to the light coifte out, 
 'Thait any one would notice yow, 
 
 I wonderfully doubt. 
 
 .And so T'll say tiglit liere and now, 
 
 You'd better take advice ; 
 And drop this story wliere it is,, 
 
 Before yoti tell it twice ^ 
 For folks who live in houses glaSS^ 
 
 Should never throw -a stone. 
 And ere they sweep clean their neighbors steps, 
 
 Thej^M better clean their own. 
 
WOMM. 
 
 I^railt}' tjiy name is woman, 
 
 So a gifted poet sung, 
 But Deceitfulness I'd name her, 
 
 If my mind could find a tongue ;: 
 iSlan is called a base deceiver, 
 
 So he's noted far and wide,. 
 But to come right down to business,. 
 
 He'&an angel by her side; 
 J'or no man that's born of woman. 
 
 To her level e'er can sink, 
 And I think 'twixt man aiid Satan,. 
 
 She must l3e a kind of link.- 
 
 Oh the baseness of the creature, 
 
 When she once makes up her nnncf . 
 That her more successful sister,. 
 
 To the shades must be consigned; 
 Then it is she shows her nature. 
 
 And a devilish trap she'll set, 
 And with wiliest devices. 
 
 Draw her victim in her net ;r 
 She'll pretend to her she loves her,. 
 
 That she wants to be her friend. 
 And in ev'ry kind of trouble, 
 
 Upon her she must depend. 
 
 Then her confidence she'll capture^. 
 
 Worm her closest secrets out. 
 Then upon the very housetop*, 
 
 Her shortcomings slie will shout :, 
 And .slie rests not from her labors, 
 
 'Till her victim prostrate lies 
 Under such a load of Scandal, 
 
 That she never can arise ;: 
 Then when she hath wrought this, niit?,. 
 
 Goes serenely on her way. 
 Thanking God she was created,, 
 
 Of a more superior clay. 
 
 You may sing of gracious woman. 
 
 You may toast her at your wine. 
 You may quote her as an angel. 
 
 And a being most divine ; 
 But she must be rather dift'rent. 
 
 From the specieS' I have seen. 
 For of all of God's created, 
 
 She's the meanest of the mean. 
 
THH MILIJ:N111M. 
 
 ■" Weill, what's the news? " "What ,' 'Aint you heari 
 About the thing that has occured?" 
 
 'Well, with surprise 'twill sitrike you dnnil). 
 The great inillenium has come." 
 "Vou don't saj- so?" " Well yes I do.'" 
 "It seems .so good it can't be true." 
 "'Well, but it is, and I'm so glad. 
 For I w-as feeling prett)'^ sad, 
 IFor things were getting you'll agree, 
 About as bad as bad could be ; 
 • And if the J- 'd kept a going on. 
 To certain ruin we'dliave gone; 
 'But fortli from darkness springs the light. 
 And all our wrongs will be made right. 
 The women folks who've had no chance. 
 Because they didn"! dress in pants, 
 And <jnh' got one half the pay. 
 For doing just as much a day, 
 As any of the men could do, 
 And sometimes doing better too, 
 Will stand with them on common groMnd^ 
 And be on equal footing found ; 
 The manufacturers I learn, 
 Will pay their workmen what they earn ■ 
 And aid them if tkey are distressed, 
 .And in return by them be blessed ; 
 And merchants swear no more to lies, 
 To sell to you their merchandise. 
 And butter, flour and coal they state, 
 AVill all be sold by honest weight ; 
 The rich men will no more abuse 
 Tax systems, but will pay their dues,; 
 ..\nd of their figures swear to facts, 
 And with the poor share equal tax ; 
 The lawyers will no more advise 
 .A man to do a thing unwise, 
 And law against each other when 
 There is no cause of action then ; 
 In lieu of bread give him a stone, 
 And pick the meat all off the bone. 
 And claim it for his rightful fee, 
 For now no lawyers will there be ; 
 For as no man will do a wrong 
 Their occupation will be gone ; 
 And politicians who have wet 
 The people's throats their votes to get, 
 
?4' 
 
 And scattered fivers far and wide,. 
 
 To get their ballot box siipplied ; 
 
 Their occupation too- must lose. 
 
 For now the people's voice will choose 
 
 An honest man to lead their cause 
 
 And rtrletheir land and make their laws : 
 
 And editors, no more they say 
 
 Will hate their rivals o'er the way. 
 
 And neither one will now accuse 
 
 The other one of stealmg^ news,,. 
 
 Or writing articles unfair, 
 
 IsTor to- false- circulation swear ;; 
 
 And liquor dealers toe they th,infc 
 
 Will be obliged themselves to drink 
 
 The poison stuffthey make to sell,. 
 
 To men to send their souls to hell ; 
 
 And I do'nt see no- reason why 
 
 They in a. short time will not die. 
 
 And small the loss would be if they did.. 
 
 If of this curse we might be rid ;; 
 
 And doctors too no more will charge 
 
 You but fo-r time tliey s|>end. at large. 
 
 For you and for the healing drugs 
 
 They'll deal to yon from their ow^l jugs'. 
 
 And you no more to druggists send 
 
 An extra fifty cents ta spend ;, 
 
 A«d wonjankind no more will vex- 
 
 Hei- sister but will love lier sex. 
 
 And all mankind will prove a friend 
 
 llnto each other to the end ;; 
 
 And genius will with moral worth 
 
 Be recogmzred tlirouglioutthe earth ; 
 
 The ministers- they too will preach 
 
 Unto the people if they'd reach 
 
 Their shining goal, that Hea.venly land. 
 
 They nnist be joined in heart and hand. 
 
 And throw contentions all aside 
 
 With malice and ignoble pride, 
 
 .^•ttd make no odd& 'twrxt high and low 
 
 And na res-pects> to persons show, 
 
 But all be joined for common g.ood 
 
 In universal brotherhood ;. 
 
 I thank the Lord that in onr night 
 
 He's sent this glorious ray of light. 
 
 And that I've lived to see it come., 
 
 This wonderful Millemum. 
 
=^5 
 
 11 S A LONG ROAD THAT HAS NO TURN. 
 
 It's a very long road, sir, that hasn't a turn, 
 And I want you from this thing a lesson to learn, 
 That the man who from shame you avoid on the street. 
 You may deem it an honor at sometime to meet. 
 
 Do not think that because you are prosp'ring to-day 
 That the thing is a going right on in this way ; 
 For who knows but that you ere your time comes to die. 
 May ask alms of the beggar whom you did deny. 
 
 And the man whom to-day you have flonted and jeered. 
 In the future may be by the millions revered, 
 And unfit you be deemed, to unfasten the shoes 
 Of the man you have covered with scorn and abuse. 
 
 While the man who is honored and gifted and rich, 
 His career may wind up at the end in the ditch; 
 F'or the great are abased with their pride to the ground, 
 And the lowly upraised when the wheel turns around. 
 
 Then you'll find it is best to be courteous to all, 
 For the curses you give on your own heads shall fall ; 
 .And oblige vou to honor the one you did spurn, 
 For there's no road so long but it comes te a turn. 
 
 THE GOSSIP. 
 
 Good morning, Mrs. Smithers, 
 
 I thought I'd jest run down 
 And see if you could help me 
 
 A trifle on my gown ; 
 And seein' you're so busy 
 
 I'll jest throw off my hat 
 And set here in the kitchen 
 
 And have a little chat. 
 
 You know agin my neighbors 
 
 I never say a word. 
 But I'm a gwine to to tell you 
 
 A little thing I heard 
 Afore I started down here 
 
 About that Widder Lee, 
 Who isn,t tew my thinkin' 
 
 Jest what she orter be. 
 
 I know she's run and chased here 
 
 All summer after Jake, 
 But I sha'n't .spile my story 
 
 Jest for relation's sake ; 
 And when I'm through a tellin' 
 
26 
 
 Some of the things she's done, 
 I don't believe you'll hanker 
 To h^ve her for your son. 
 
 'Twas Nancy Green that told me, 
 
 She said that yesternight 
 She sat on her piazzer 
 
 Afoie she lit her light, 
 And saw a handsome stranger 
 
 Stop at the Widder's house, 
 And so she watched proceedin's 
 
 As quiet as a mouse. 
 
 The widder's lamp was lighted. 
 
 So she could plainly see, 
 For all her blinds was open, 
 
 Jest as they allers be ; 
 And when she saw the stranger, 
 
 She run like all possessed, 
 And let him hug an' kiss her 
 
 And hold her to his breast. 
 
 They sat down on the sofy 
 
 As lovin' as could be, 
 And Nancy says she saw her 
 
 A settin' on his knee ; 
 An' bein' how's for Jacob 
 
 She'd be no likely mate, 
 I thought I'd come and tell you 
 
 Afore it was too late. 
 
 You thank me very kindly. 
 
 But 'twas her brother John, 
 Who'd come to see his sister 
 
 A wedded to your son ; 
 And that's the very reason 
 
 You couldn't fix my frock. 
 Was cause their to be married 
 
 Tew night at eight o'clock. 
 
 And folks who gad about 
 
 To talk about their neighbors, 
 Had better be at home 
 
 Attendin' tew their labors ; 
 And not be quite so anxious 
 
 Some trouble for to brew, 
 I think jest so Mrs. Smithers, 
 
 And that you know is true. 
 
 I guess I'll be a goin' 
 Fer it's a gettin' late, 
 
27 
 
 And my, if there aint Nancy, 
 A comin' through the gate ; 
 
 Well I'll go out the back way 
 Afore she's up the walk. 
 
 For I despise a woman. 
 
 Who'll of her neiijhbors talk. 
 
 LHND A HELPING HAND- 
 
 When you see a person drowning, 
 
 Do not stand aloof and shout 
 Haifa dozen sermons at him, 
 
 But just go and help him out ; 
 For he's sinking and he needeth 
 
 Manual aid and not advice, 
 And no good will do your preaching, 
 
 Though it be both wise and nice. 
 
 For the waters of affliction 
 
 Now encompass him around. 
 And unless you help him quickly, 
 
 In a moment he'll be drowned ; 
 Pull with all your might and main then 
 
 Till he's safe upon the land, 
 Nor desert him 'til he's able 
 
 On his feet ouce more to stand. 
 
 ' But suppose it is a person 
 
 Who is scorned by other men, " 
 All the greater is the reason 
 
 That yovi should befriend him then ; 
 For but one against an army 
 
 In the fray will quickly fall, 
 And with all the world against him 
 
 He can never rise at all. 
 
 Then let duty rule your conduct, 
 
 On your footsteps ever wait ; 
 And whenever there's occasion, 
 
 Help the poor unfortunate ; 
 And if ever you are tempted 
 
 To neglect a fallen man, 
 Please to recollect the story 
 
 Of the good Samaritan. 
 
2S 
 
 You yourself may meet with trouble, 
 
 Great misfortunes be your own, 
 Then yoy'll find when comes the harvest 
 
 You shall reap as you have sown ; 
 And the measure you have meted 
 
 Shall be meted you again. 
 So by all the good you hope for, 
 
 Kindly treat your fellow man 
 
 INGRATITUDE. 
 
 If ever misfortunes against you prevail, 
 
 Or slanerous stories your name shall assail; 
 
 'Tis strange but 'tis true that the person you've shown 
 
 Particular kindness, will cast the first stone. 
 
 Yes, he is the first who pretended to feel 
 The truest of friendship to lift up his heel ; 
 While he whom we counted our bitterest foe, 
 The greatest of clemency tow'rds us will show. 
 
 And he who was certain that he could depend 
 In seasons of trouble to find us a friend, 
 To turn so against us in troublesome times. 
 Ingratitude maketh the basest of crimes. 
 
 Such heartlessness robs us of faith in mankind. 
 And sometimes we think that no good can we find ; 
 But such things were common long ages ago, 
 As stories of Judas Iscariot will .show. 
 
 Then if of such troubles you've ne'er had a part 
 Prepare for the blow ere it strikes to your heart, 
 For the one whose afi^ections }'ou think are your own 
 Will be the most forward in casting the stone. 
 
 PROFESSION NOT POSSESSION. 
 
 You think 3^ou are a Christian, 
 
 Of that you've not a doubt. 
 Because you go to meeting 
 
 Each Sunday in and out, 
 And pay the best attention 
 
 To sermon and to prayer, 
 And make a fine profession 
 
 And in the communion share. 
 
29 
 
 Vou're not the only person 
 
 Who think that all thej- nee(1 
 To walk right into Heaven, 
 
 Is to adopt the Creed 
 Of any of the churches, 
 
 Profess, and sing and pra}-, 
 And share in the communion 
 
 On Sacramental day. 
 
 1 guess yo\i don't consider 
 
 The oar of faith is dead, 
 Without the oar of action 
 
 To send the craft ahead :; 
 And lest you "have them both, sir. 
 
 At once at your command. 
 Your bark will soon be foundered 
 
 On self religion's strand. 
 
 For by their works you'll know them, 
 
 The poor apprentice said ; 
 For by tbeir works youMl know thera, 
 
 And be the}- quick or dead ^ 
 And if their works are evil 
 
 You'll catch them unawares. 
 For wheat cannot be gathered 
 
 From sowing seeds of tares. 
 
 You think yKDU are a Christian, 
 
 Now let me say a word 
 Concerning se.v'ral actions 
 
 Which lately have occurred ; 
 And one is of the widow 
 
 Who rented rootns of you, 
 Whose rent through much of sicknesss 
 
 Was two weeks over due. 
 
 And having no wherewithal, • 
 
 This small expense to meet, 
 You turned her and her children 
 
 Out in the stormy street ; 
 AVhere, from the want of shelter, 
 
 Which you to her denied. 
 She sickened from exposure, 
 
 And 3^esterday she died. 
 
 Then there was Tommj' Allen, 
 
 Who took a loaf of bread 
 To give his crippled father 
 
JO 
 
 From hunger nearly dead ;■ 
 Who, when he plead for mercy 
 
 To yo« without avail, 
 You thought to teach a lesson. 
 
 And had him sent to jail. 
 
 Then there was Charlie Summers, 
 
 A bright and likely lad, 
 Who, through associations. 
 
 Was going to the bad ; 
 And you who might have helped liiu*. 
 
 An'd raised him up a niche. 
 With bitter tauntings sent him 
 
 Still lower in the ditch. 
 
 Then there are sundry stories 
 
 About dishonest weight 
 Of articles you're selling. 
 
 Which here I'll not relate ;; 
 And if that you're a Christian, 
 
 You're bounden to believe ; 
 I think it must be Satan 
 
 Who does j'our soul decieve. 
 
 For bj' their works you'll know thenr. 
 
 The poor apprentice said ; 
 For by their works you'll know them. 
 
 And be they quick or dead ; 
 And just because a person 
 
 Of religion makes profession. 
 It doesn't always follow 
 
 That he has it in possession. 
 
 K\(]CK HIM DOWN AND KICK HIM FOR 
 FALLING 
 
 Oh the meanness of this world. 
 
 It really is appalling. 
 To strike a man and knock him down. 
 
 And kick him then for falling ; 
 And if he strives to make a rise 
 
 And we be the regarder, 
 We turn around and go right back 
 
 And kick him all the harder. 
 
 The greater wrong we've done a man. 
 
 The more we try to hurt him ; 
 And when we've got him in the hole 
 
3^ 
 
 We cruelly desert him ; 
 
 And if through us he's done a wroitj^ 
 We twit hiui of his evil, 
 
 And try the very Taest we know- 
 To drive him to the devil. 
 
 Eut if he scorns us and our works, 
 
 And boldly bids defiance. 
 And goes to work to be a man 
 
 With st-urdy selfreliance ; 
 There's nothing hurts our little minds 
 
 So bad in all creation, 
 And if we could we'd doom him to 
 
 Complete amiihilatioTi. 
 
 But as we can't do all we can 
 
 To bring about his ruin. 
 And go around among his friends 
 
 And set a trouble brewing ; 
 And when we hear on every hand 
 
 Him wickedly berated, 
 Our little grovling spirits are 
 
 Exceedingl}^ elated. 
 
 And when he's driven to tbe wall. 
 
 Which is the more the pit}', 
 We feel more satisfaction far 
 
 Than if we'd took a city ; 
 And when we've got him :n the mud 
 
 We goad him and we prick him, 
 And if he strives to rise again 
 
 Unmercifully kick him ; 
 For oh the meanness of this world. 
 
 It really is appalling, 
 To strike a man and knock him down 
 
 And kick him then for falling. 
 
 THE DEAD BABY. 
 
 Ivovely little waxen baby. 
 
 Lying there so still and cold, 
 Fairer than the snowy blossoms 
 
 Which thy tiny hands doth hold, 
 Sweeter than the fragrant incense 
 
 Which the flowers around thee shed 
 Does thy spirit dwell in Heax'en 
 
 While thy body lies here dead ? 
 
52- 
 
 Were the angels waiting for you 
 
 When in death you closed your eye*? 
 Did they bekr you with them swiftl}' 
 
 To their home beyond the skies? 
 Did the}' lay yon softly, gently, 
 
 On the waiting Saviour's breast^ 
 Giving Ton a joyful welcome 
 
 To the eity of the blest ? 
 
 But my questions thou'lt not answer^ 
 
 For those lips shall never speak, 
 Nor the dimples chase each other 
 
 O'er th}? lovely rounded cheek ; 
 Stilled those restless hands forever,. 
 
 Closed in death those starry eyes ; 
 But I know thy spirit, beauty, 
 
 Lives again in Paradise. 
 
 Lovely little waxen baby 
 
 Lying there so cold and still. 
 Thou art free from earthly trouble,. 
 
 Ev'ry woe and ev'ry ill, 
 Like a bud too sweet to blossom 
 
 In a world so drear and cold, 
 Thou hast left this earth for Heaven, 
 
 There thy beauties to unfold. 
 
 DOUBTINGS. 
 
 Perhaps )-ou'll go right straight along 
 And do your neighbor all the wrong 
 It lies within your power to do. 
 And still be judged as good and true ; 
 But then I rather doubt it. 
 
 Perhaps you'll keep up all your days. 
 Your sneaking, underhanded ways, 
 And Justice's voice be ever dumb, 
 And Retribution never come ; 
 
 But then I rather doubt it. 
 
 Perhaps the curses you have thrown 
 On other heads shall bruise your own, 
 And lay the edifices low 
 Built on another's overthrow, 
 
 However much you doubt it. 
 
35 
 
 Perhaps Uie luillri of fate grind slow, 
 •But then they surely grind you know, 
 •And when your soul feels no alarm 
 You'll feel the weight of Justice's arm 
 Before you've time to doubt it. 
 
 LINES ON PARNHLL 
 
 Oh thou man of great pretensions, 
 ^."nto what divine ascensions 
 
 Thy endeavors might have readied ? 
 Had not thine own wicked actions, 
 •Caused ])y s-trife nor party factions, 
 
 In the end thyself impeached. 
 
 Parnell, thou idol once enshrined, 
 
 In ev'rj- patriotic mind, 
 
 Thy glorious sway, alas, is o'er, 
 
 Thou'rt fallen now to rise no more ; 
 
 And woe betide the evil day 
 
 Thou proved thyself but common cla}-. 
 
 THliRFS ALWAYS SOMEBODY. 
 
 Whatever you do and wherever you go, 
 Somebody will make it their business you know, 
 And though to please all you sincerely should try, 
 There's always somebody you can't satisfy. 
 
 Thei'e's alwa3s somebody a looking for flaws, 
 
 And gazing to see if propriety's laws 
 
 You don't overstep as you go on your way, 
 
 And hope and desire in their hearts that you may, 
 
 For nothing's so sweet to a mean little mind 
 As morsels of scandal, which if they can land, 
 (And hunt they will for it on flimsiest grounds), 
 Their joy at discovery knoweth' no bounds. 
 
 They'll turn it, and twist it, and pat it, and roll, 
 And tell it to every identical soul 
 
 That they meet, be it said to their shame and disgrace, 
 And how such a person can honest folks face ; 
 
34 
 
 I'm sure I can't tell, but then people who're mean 
 Are always a looking through spectacles green, 
 And think if to yoii they've another's faults shown 
 You'll be a forgetting to look at their own. 
 
 MR JONES' DECISION 
 
 I've pondered on the subject 
 
 And have made up my mind 
 That friends who're true amd faithful 
 
 Are scarce and hard to find ; 
 And though I've been a trav'ling 
 
 This forty years or more. 
 And thought of true companions 
 
 I had at least a score ; 
 I found when trouble met me 
 
 They'd leave me on a run. 
 And when a friend I needed, 
 
 I wouldn't have a one. 
 
 You know there's lots of people 
 
 Whose hearts seem like to burst. 
 They hold so much affection 
 
 For you, but who're the first, 
 When trouble comes a calling. 
 
 To make the greatest speed 
 To get away and leave you 
 
 Afore their help you need. 
 
 You've heard about the rabbit 
 
 Who had a hundred friends 
 As long as she could pander 
 
 Unto their selfish ends ; 
 But when their aid she needed 
 
 To help to bear her through, 
 A life and death concernment. 
 
 They'd something else to do. 
 
 And so I've allers found it ; 
 
 The more that I would do 
 To help along xay neighbors 
 
 The more they'd want me to ; 
 And when I'd done one favor, 
 
 Another they would ask, 
 And found when ,twas accomplished, 
 
 'Twas all a thankless task. 
 
They'd claim that they were anxious 
 
 To help me get along, 
 But when I asked assistance 
 
 The}' sung a different song ; 
 And said that all my trouble 
 
 Was caused b}- nn' neglect 
 Of things I might have seen to, 
 
 And I must not expect 
 That they could bear my burdens, 
 
 While I sat at m}' ease ; 
 And this is all I got from 
 
 The ones I'd tried to please. 
 
 And so I have concluded 
 
 To independent be, 
 And pay no more attention 
 
 To them as don't to me. 
 And if upon my travels 
 
 I have the luck to fall, 
 'Twill not be on relations 
 
 Or friends that I shall call ; 
 But unto perfect strangers 
 
 For succor I shall go. 
 For I shall be more certain 
 
 To find it there I know. 
 
 I'll do as I am done by 
 
 By either foe or friend. 
 And go upon my journey 
 
 Alone unto the end ; 
 And with consideration 
 
 I'll treat myself I'd mention. 
 And deal no more in friendship, 
 
 That's nothing but pretension. 
 And all dissolves to nothing. 
 
 Jest like an empty bubble, 
 As Boon's it comes in contact 
 
 With any kind of trouble. 
 
 JEALOUSY. 
 
 Oh, we jealous minded women, 
 How it does our spirits vex. 
 
 When we hear a man applauding 
 Any other of our sex ; 
 
 For we cannot bear that any 
 Should be noticed more than we 
 
And we wish our fairer rival 
 At the bottom of the sea. 
 
 She may be-*of all tiie women. 
 
 Just the oMe we've loved the most :. 
 And the one we most admired too, 
 
 And have e'en been known to boasl' 
 f)f her wonderful attractions ; 
 
 But when men begin to sing 
 Gf her beanty and Her graces, 
 
 It is quite another thing. 
 
 Then the evil passion Envy, 
 
 Ever dwelling in our hearts, 
 (Vilh the desidly bow of Slander, 
 
 Shoots a thousand poison darts :. 
 At our imsuspeeting sister. 
 
 Ami nor night nor day rest we, 
 Til we've sunk her reputation. 
 
 To the bottom of the sea- 
 Why this evil disposition ? 
 
 Wh}- this tendency to hate 
 tier whom we should love sincerely 
 
 Is a myst'ry very great 
 And impoEsible to fathom ; 
 
 But this thing I know full well, 
 That the fountains of such spirits 
 
 Have their sources deep in hell. 
 
 SHAM AND DECK 
 
 ■ nf sick and tired of fhis deceit 
 I And sham which everj' where I meet,. 
 And if you care with me to go, 
 Some of those shams to you I'll show ;, 
 And if you've time now for the same 
 Come on with me behind this dame, 
 Who's going up the street to call,, 
 Whom we will follow in the hall 
 And there b}- keeping very still 
 Hear all that's going on we will. 
 Note how the hostess comes to meet 
 The dame with pats and kisses sweet ; 
 For she's so glad that she has come, 
 And that she chanced to be at home ; 
 I'or reallj' since she saw her last, 
 It seems as though an age had passed ; 
 
" And so this is A-our baby here, 
 
 Oh what a darling little dear, 
 
 For children I'm completely wild, 
 
 And this is just the sweetest child 
 
 That ever drew a living breath 
 
 And I shall love him just to death ; " . 
 
 And so her tongue runs on this wise 
 
 Until the lady doth arise 
 
 To take her leave, " aiid must you go ? 
 
 I am so sorry it is so. 
 
 But come again as soou's j'ou can 
 
 And bring this darling little man." 
 
 Then when the dame has left the place 
 
 Behind her back makes up a face, 
 
 And says she hopes the nasty cat 
 
 Will never bring that horrid brat, 
 
 Who has the most detestful ways 
 
 vShe ever saw in all her days 
 
 Inside of her tour walls again. 
 
 Then to the waiting door maid : "Jane, 
 
 If here again she e'er should come 
 
 Vou tell her that I'm not at home." 
 
 While she, the one who made the call, 
 
 A horrid nuisance, notes it all, 
 
 For she, that woman at her best 
 
 Does imreservedly detest ; 
 
 And all she went there for I wot 
 
 Was just to see what she had got ; 
 
 .And as to that she having learned 
 
 She hopes her call wont be returned. 
 
 Oh Women, you who seem so sweet 
 
 Are nothing but a vile deceit. 
 
 Here stands a man upon the street 
 Who seems the gentleman complete, 
 " A perfect creature, nobly planned 
 To love, to honor, and command ; "' 
 A princely form, a kingly mind. 
 Here certainly no sham we'll find ; 
 Now cast your eye along the street 
 Where comes a woman fair and sweet, 
 With perfect form and lovely face 
 And every movement full of grace ; 
 He tips his hat with bow polite. 
 And ere she's scarcely out of sight. 
 He turns to friends a standing near 
 With knowing smile and scornful sneer ; 
 And in the space of twice three winks 
 
?s 
 
 Her character to zero sinks. 
 
 Where now's a man's vaunted noble mind! 
 
 It.s all a perfect Miam you'll find. 
 
 Here comes a man who wants a wife 
 
 To walk with him the path of life, 
 
 So he selects the queen of girls 
 
 With ros-y cheeks and teeth like pearls^ 
 
 And such a form, it to his eye 
 
 No pigec^n could in plumpness vie ;. 
 
 And when at last s>he is a bride. 
 
 And he alone is by her side, 
 
 And she begins to dofifher fads, 
 
 Her dress, and stays, and several pads,. 
 
 Removes her teeth, wipes off the paint, 
 
 He feels as though he'd surely faint ; 
 
 And when he .sees that pack of bones. 
 
 He mourns with iaward sighs and groans 
 
 And wonders what's the reason why, 
 
 They say that figures will not lie. 
 
 For sure!}' her's, so plump and neat. 
 
 Is nothing but a rank deceit. 
 
 Here comes two people who are friends. 
 And so will be until the ends, 
 They have in view they shall have gained ; 
 Then when their object is attained. 
 Like an old shoe that's thrown aside, 
 They'll merely let each other slide, 
 Which proves the fact of which I am, 
 Most certain, friendship's but a sham. 
 
 Here goes a man and wife to call. 
 We'll follow them, too, in the hall, 
 And there by keeping strictl}' whist 
 Their conversation we may list,. 
 And peeking through the kej'hole, note 
 How they upon each other dote, 
 And speak in most endearing terms 
 Unto each other, which affirms 
 The true affection of their lives ; 
 *' She is the darlingest of wives ; " 
 He says so all the crowd maj' hear, 
 .A.nd calls her Angel, Love, and Dear, 
 While she his notice doth return, 
 And for his presence seems to yearn, 
 And answers him with loving words, 
 And there they coo and bill like birds ; 
 While all the crowd looks and admires. 
 Nor of such true affection tires, 
 
39 
 
 Por never saw the}- like to this, 
 "Such perfect love and wedded bliss. 
 Now if 3-011 have a mind to roam, 
 Will follow them towards their home. 
 And ere they get one-half way there. 
 He at his Love begins to swear ; 
 Whilst in a perfect rage she gets, 
 And then the vilest epithets 
 The}- heap upon each other's heads ; 
 Then hie them Tiome to sep'rate beds, 
 And like enough the}- will not speak 
 "Unto each other for a week. 
 Now where's the sweets of wedded bliss ? 
 They're all a perfect sham like this. 
 
 Hei-e conies a man with visage metk , 
 
 Whose black attire is verj- sleek, 
 
 His air and clothing spick and span 
 
 Do both bespeak the clergj-man ; 
 
 Let's follow to his journey's end 
 
 Where he will call upon a friend, 
 
 Whose husband is away from home. 
 
 And so will be for hours to come ; 
 
 They talk about the weather first, 
 
 Then of the sins b}^ which we''re cursed , 
 
 And of Religion's lofty power 
 
 To quell those ills, and ere the hour 
 
 Has to the shades three quarters flown. 
 
 His arm around her waist is thrown. 
 
 And on her lips he leaves a kiss ; 
 
 And if this is Religion, this 
 
 Concerning which he'll preach and prate, 
 
 I've all I care for on my plate ; 
 
 And ministers, else I'm a liar, 
 
 Are mostly wolves in sheep's attire ; 
 
 Or what's as bad, have cloven feet 
 
 To make Religion a deceit. 
 
 Here is a mansion grand and fine. 
 
 With workmanship of rare design ; 
 
 Let us go in and look around 
 
 And see what shams may here be found ; 
 
 Come in the parlor through the hall. 
 
 And note the hangings on the wall, 
 
 The fine piano rich and grand. 
 
 The elegant and costly stand, 
 
 The bric-a-brac a priceless store, 
 
 And velvet carpets on the floor ; 
 
 Now here you think you nothing find 
 
40 
 
 To prove the thing I have in mind ; 
 
 But now my friend just come with me, 
 
 And we shall see what we shall see ; 
 
 Here is the kitchen xold and bare 
 
 With but a table, stove and chair ; 
 
 Where when from calling she comes back 
 
 The mistress doffs her seal skin sacque, 
 
 And sits her down in robes of silk. 
 
 And eats her tea ot bread and milk ; 
 
 And then her spouse in rich attire 
 
 Comes in and sits withovit a fire. 
 
 And makes his rae^l of milk and bread, 
 
 And then they both go off to bed ; 
 
 Now note those garments 'neath their dress, 
 
 They're in a state of wretchedness, 
 
 And nothing more than flimsy rags, 
 
 With patches here and there some tags ; 
 
 And will you glance toward those hose, 
 
 They're minus both their heels and toes ; 
 
 But this don't worry them I ween 
 
 For tbev but care for what is seen, 
 
 And willingly would live on dust 
 
 To be considered upper crust ; 
 
 And I'm convinced, well yes 1 am, 
 
 That Aristocracy's a sham. 
 
 But now my friend 1 must go home 
 For I this time no more can roam, 
 But shams you see do much abound 
 And may in every place be found. 
 For you yourself cant help but own 
 That these are perfect which I've shown. 
 And when my busy season's o'er 
 Just call around and see some more. 
 
 Oh for a dovelet's wings to fl}-. 
 Where I in peace might live and die. 
 Nor once upon my journey meet 
 With either sham or vile deceit. 
 
 DON'T JUDGE BY APPEARANCH. 
 
 You should never judge a person by the clothing that he 
 
 wears, 
 For you'll often find the raiiusnt of a sheep on vv'olves and 
 
 bears, 
 A;i:l a snovvy loo'ciiig uxrplic; biles a bosjm foul with sin 
 So who judges by appearance v.'ill get sadly taken in. 
 
4' 
 
 You will find the finest diamonds on the higgest kind of 
 
 rogues, 
 And the slickest looking coats, too, on the meanest sort of 
 
 dogs, 
 And the lowest kind of people wear the richest kind of 
 
 clothes, 
 And the noblest minded person oft' in tattered garments 
 
 goes. 
 
 You will find the gayest kind of plumage growing on a song- 
 less bird. 
 
 And the plainest feathered songster makes the sweetest mu- 
 sic heard ; 
 
 And the finest of bananas lie the blackest rind within ; 
 
 And the sweetest kind of orange has the roughest kind of 
 skin. 
 
 Oft' the man who Icoks the sprucest and is always dressed 
 
 to kill. 
 Owes the barber, and the tailor, and the washerwoman's 
 
 bill; 
 While the man whose coat is shabby has a pocket full of tin ; 
 So who judges by appearance will get sadly taken in. 
 
 NATURE'S NOBLEMAN, 
 
 Yon may bow to wealth and station. 
 
 But I never could nor can, 
 For I'll only own allegiance 
 
 Unto nature's nobleman ; 
 He who towers above his fellows 
 
 By his great and lofty mind, 
 And by nature was created 
 
 As a king among mankind. 
 
 He may be both poor and lowly, 
 
 Clad in tatters and in tags, 
 But I love and honor genius, 
 
 Though it be arrayed in rags ; 
 And the noblest minded person 
 
 That this world has ever seen, 
 Had no place of habitation. 
 
 And his clothes were poor and mean. 
 
 'Tis not clothes that makes the person. 
 
 Nor degree, nor yet estate, 
 But a noble mind, God given. 
 
 Is what makes one truly great ; 
 
42 
 
 And I with the ancient preacher 
 Inconsistencies have seen, 
 
 Servants riding upon horses, 
 Kings performing service mean. 
 
 Merit oft' goes unrewarded, 
 
 As of course it always will. 
 And though crushed by foul injustict 
 
 Yet the virtue is there still ; 
 And the dormant germs of genius, 
 
 Although chilled by cold neglect. 
 Often blossom into splendor, 
 
 When the thing we least expect. 
 
 Rut to come back to my subject, 
 
 He must noble be and just. 
 Nor perform an act dishonest. 
 
 Nor betray the simplest trust. 
 Square and honest in his actions 
 
 To the very slightest thing ; 
 Such must be the man I'll honor, 
 
 As he stands an uncrowned king. 
 
 Then ye simple minded people 
 
 Bowing to an empty name 
 Or the gods of pomp and mammon. 
 
 You are welcome to the same ; 
 Bot I with you will not worship. 
 
 For I never could nor can ; 
 But I'll swear eternal homage 
 
 Unto nature's nobleman. 
 
 THE CUP OF LOVH. 
 
 Oh drink my soul of blisses, 
 
 Drink deeply while you may. 
 Of joy, and love, and kisses, 
 
 While yet it is to-day ; 
 Oh drain this cup of pleasures, 
 
 This draught of nectar quaflf. 
 For soon life's fullest treasures 
 
 Will turn to empty chaff; 
 And when shall come the morrow 
 
 And changes on us call. 
 Our joy shall turn to sorrow, 
 
 To wormwood and to gall ; 
 For blossoms that are fairest, 
 The sweetest, and the rarest, 
 
43 
 
 The soonest fade and fall. 
 
 For love, the sweetest treasure 
 
 By God to mankind given, 
 At morn may prove a pleasure, 
 
 A bitterness at even' ; 
 And in the fairest blossoms 
 
 There lurks a drop of bane ; 
 So love within our bosoms 
 
 May leave .a deathless pain ; 
 Then while t1;€ spirit's o'er us 
 
 Let's quaff ^his draft divine. 
 This cup of love before tis. 
 
 Though it be poisoned wine ; 
 Then drink my soui of blisses, 
 
 Drink deeply while you may, 
 Of icy, and love, and kisses 
 
 While yet it is to-day ; 
 For plossoms that are fairest, 
 
 The sweetest, and the rarest, 
 The soonest fade awav. 
 
 Insult not the fallen, of that have a care, 
 FvUough of life's burdens alaeady they bear ; 
 And guilty and evil the heart that can add 
 A pang to the spirit already so sad. 
 
 As a flower that's crushed and trampled 
 Sends the sweetest fragrance forth. 
 
 So the soul must taste of sorrow. 
 Ere 'twnll prove its finest worth. 
 
 THE WAY IT GOES. 
 
 Upon the roost in Biddyville a little pullet sat, 
 
 .•\ spot upon her breast did itch and so she picked at that, 
 
 A feather loosened by the act went fluttering below, 
 
 " Oh dear," says she. "the more I pick the handsomer I 
 
 grow. ' ' 
 She tucked her head beneath her wing and soon was fast 
 
 asleep ; 
 But not so with another hen, who did a virgil keep. 
 Until the hens were all asleep that sat upon the roost, 
 So she, if anything occurred, of knowing it could boast. 
 
44 
 
 She nudged her neighbor in the side and whispered in her 
 ear ; 
 
 "Vou know that little Downy Breast, who sits beyond us 
 here, 
 
 I heard her stir and watched her pick three feather.-; from 
 her breast, 
 
 So that the Chanticleer would think her fairer than the rest. " 
 
 "Well is that so? I always thought she was a forward thing;" 
 
 And with these. words she turned and hit her neighbor on 
 the wing, 
 
 And told her that Miss Downy Breast had plucked out feath- 
 ers five, 
 
 For love of Mr. Chanticleer who hated her alive. 
 
 She, in her turn, her neighbor told, who sent the tale along. 
 
 And each a quill or two to add seemed not to think wrong ; 
 
 And when it reached to Turkeytown, the talej-ou'd not have 
 known, 
 
 It had, from adding here and there, to such proportions 
 grown. 
 
 To gain the admiration of the Cock in Biddj^ville 
 
 Three lovelorn pullets from their forms had plucked out 
 ev'ry quill ; 
 
 vSo it was told and nearly dead they were from freezing 
 weather ; 
 
 So thus three unfledged fowls had grown from one poor lit- 
 tle feather. 
 
 THE POOR WOMAN'S BXPERIHNCB A' 
 CHURCH 
 
 I thought I heard a knocking 
 
 And did too for a fact ; 
 You thought you'd stop and leave me 
 
 A nice religious tract. 
 Which tells us of that creature, 
 
 The father of all lies, 
 And how we may discern him 
 
 In whatsoever guise. 
 
 See here, aint you the woman 
 
 Who asked me down to church. 
 And when you there had got me 
 
 Just left me in the lurch ? 
 You really don't remember, 
 
 Well if you don't I do. 
 And I'll refresh vour mem'ry 
 
 B}' facts I'll state to 3'ou. 
 
45 
 
 ■ 'Twas in the month of Auguk 
 
 You called m here to see 
 If I had got a Bible; 
 And then you questioned me 
 
 ■ About my soul's condition 
 
 And if I went to church, 
 For Satan, if I didn't, 
 Would get me in the lurch. 
 
 I said I had no clothing 
 
 To wear to such a place, 
 And there you sat and told nie 
 
 With that decietful face 
 They wouldn't mind my garments- 
 
 And want the soul's repoSC 
 Ten times more consequential 
 
 Than all the finest clothes ; 
 
 ■ And if I'd go to meeting 
 
 To hear about the Lord, 
 My soul will surely fiad there 
 A H'eavenly Ye ward. 
 
 And so on Suuday morning, 
 
 It was the very next, 
 "I dressed and -v^relit te meeting 
 
 So as to hear 'the text. 
 "I know my clothes were rather 
 
 Of antiquated st3'le, 
 And when the church I enterei'i 
 
 The folks began to smvle. 
 
 'This set me in a fluster, 
 
 As well I recollect, 
 TFor sucli a smiling greeting 
 
 I didn't quite expect, 
 .And when the smiling broadene<) 
 
 Into a perfect grin. 
 And someone tittered outright 
 
 I wished I'd not gone in. 
 
 But then thinks I encouraged<, 
 
 I shall a welcome find 
 AVhen once that lady sees me 
 
 Who was so good and kind ,• 
 ..\nd sure enough the sexton 
 
 Then seated me by you. 
 And you with bearing scornful, 
 
 Awa}' from me withdrevv % 
 And from my hand extended 
 
 You turned in cold disdain, 
 
46 
 
 JTor ventured through the servicE 
 To look at me again.. 
 
 And as I ssl beside you. 
 
 Amid the people's sneers, 
 1 own that I could scarcely 
 
 Keep Ixick the scalding tears-. 
 For no one else pretended 
 
 With me to sympathize. 
 And I had been encouraged 
 
 By your deceitful lies 
 To go down there to meeting. 
 
 In that old hat and frock,. 
 And now that I had got there 
 
 Was made a laughing stock . 
 And when the congregation 
 
 Their ridicule had shown. 
 Vou left me in my trouble 
 
 To fight it out alone. 
 
 I didii't hear the sermon 
 
 Nor anj'thing 'twas said. 
 For all at once my feelings 
 
 Seemed withered up and dead ; 
 But all the while I wondered, 
 
 As there I sat by you, 
 If Jesus had have been there 
 
 If He'd have scorned me too. 
 
 Oh but I had a thinking, 
 
 As there I sat that day, 
 The which if I should tell yon 
 
 Would take your breath away. 
 But as it is all over 
 
 We'll let the matter drop, 
 But you no more need trouble 
 
 Yourself with me to stop. 
 
 But there's a certain subject 
 
 Of which I'd like to tell, 
 (For though I know but little. 
 
 I know that little well,) 
 A fact that's true as preaching, 
 
 Then be it understood 
 The churches of the present 
 
 Do more of harm tlian good. 
 
 For with their pride and fashion 
 
 They scorn upon the whole, 
 The thing to God most precious 
 
47 
 
 Ali\iml->le person''3 soul. 
 And if we go to wor&hip 
 
 They ridicule and laugli 
 And feed our starving spirits. 
 
 With empty husks and chafF, 
 And I have no more uses 
 
 For churches, goodness Tcnows, 
 Who only care for people 
 
 Who dress in splendid clothes. 
 
 And if 5^our tracks there tell yoa 
 
 How you may know that elf. 
 Most commonly called satan. 
 
 Just keep them for yourself. 
 But no, you two may leave me. 
 
 Then go and come no more, 
 And I prefer the kind that 
 
 Leave heels toward th« doon 
 
 THE DEAD GARDEN OF THE HEART. 
 
 Oh the founts of my heart are as waters of Marah, 
 Ami unfruitful its soil as the sands of Sahara, 
 And all faded and dead in the bloom of its verdure, 
 For the moisture is gall which its gardens did nurture. 
 
 Dry and dead in its bloom lies Love's beautiful blos>^()m, 
 AVhich an Eden-like garden did make of my bosom, 
 And I mourn o'er the flower that decayed in its beauty. 
 Though my spirit it lured from the pathway of duty. 
 
 Also Friendship's bright flower with its beautiful mission, 
 Lieth withered and dead, killed by doubt and suspicion, 
 And I silently weep in my woe, broken hearted. 
 For the blossom of Friendship forever departed. 
 
 While the fair flower of Hope, which in glorious beauty, 
 Shed a radiance bright round the dark path of Duty, 
 With the sweet bud of Faith which my spirit did cherish, 
 Were the last of the flowers of my bosom to perish. 
 
 And I bitterly mourn in the depths of my sorrow. 
 
 For the floweis of my soul which bloom not on the morrow, 
 
 For the founts of my heart are as waters of Marah, 
 
 And unfruitful its soil as the sands of Sahara. 
 
VIRTUE IS ITS OWN RHWAKD' 
 
 ^nto you ^'e wii'sonie maidens 
 
 Are the songs I sing to-day. 
 Songs of warning and entreat}', 
 
 Lest your feet are led astray . 
 By the ever watchful tempter 
 
 Who is seeking ev'ry howr, 
 Like a grim and famished monster. 
 
 For the prey he may devour. 
 
 You will, find him in the lover, 
 
 In the man whom yoo adore, 
 Who professes that he loves you 
 
 In his very bosoms core, 
 But although he this professes 
 
 It is not Love's holy flame, 
 That could doom a guiless spirit 
 
 To a never ending shame. 
 
 He to gain his selfish object 
 Lauds your graces to the skies, 
 
 VX'hile your too confiding natvire 
 In his heart he doth despise,. 
 
 And when won he'll cast you from hiua 
 Like a' flower that's lost its bloom,. 
 
 And you'll henceforth walk in shadows- 
 Worse than shadows of the tomb,. 
 
 Maidens listen not the pleadings,, 
 
 Thoivgh you love with hearts of flame- , 
 Of the mran who'd cast a shadow 
 
 O'er the lUster of your fame, 
 And you'll join in yeara to follow 
 
 Ibe this song with one accord, 
 (And no words were ever truer^. 
 
 Virtue is its own reward.- 
 
 K THERE A HELL? 
 
 Some people doubt that there's a helL 
 
 That is they claim they do, 
 But in my soul I hope there is 
 
 P/en though I go there too, 
 For where'll the prosp'rous evil man- 
 
 Whom wealth and power begirts. 
 If there ''s no future punishment. 
 
 Receive his just deserts. 
 
49 
 
 The man who robs his fellowman 
 
 Of character and wealth, 
 And e'en his wife's affections steals 
 
 Through vilest kinds of stealth ; 
 And whom you'd siirely deem a saint, 
 
 To hear him sing and pray. 
 As his Religion he parades 
 
 Upon the Sabbath day. 
 
 He walks into the house of God 
 
 With sanctimonious air, 
 And listens with a saintly grace 
 
 Unto the text and prayer, 
 And in the minister's Amen 
 
 He joins in tones devout. 
 While in these hymns his pious voice 
 
 In heartfelt notes rings out. 
 
 "To aid the widow in distress, 
 
 This day oh Lord I vow," 
 He sings and thinks how Monday morn 
 
 He'll go and get tliat cow 
 That Widow Murray bought last May 
 
 And of its cost paid half, 
 And as the rest is overdue 
 
 He'll take with it its calf. 
 
 " To do as I would be done by 
 
 Oh Jesus teach me how," 
 And of that man who wants that loan 
 
 He sits and ponders now, 
 And as the cash he's got to have 
 
 What usury to charge, 
 Nor deems the sum often per cent 
 
 To be a cent too large. 
 
 " Teach me to feel another's woe 
 
 To hide the faults I see," 
 And thinks he'll tell the minister 
 
 About that Charlie Lee, 
 Who, as he walked out with a friend. 
 
 Not knowing he was near. 
 Went with that friend to a saloon 
 
 And got a drink of beer. 
 
 '•The mercy I to others show, 
 
 That mercy show to me," 
 He sings and ponders in his mind 
 
 And hopes it cannot be 
 That anyone will lend Brown funds 
 
 To pay that debt he owes. 
 
5»^ 
 
 And if tlie)- don't, on Tuesday noon) 
 His mortgage he'll foreclose. 
 
 Ind then he lists with air devout 
 
 The Benedidtive prayer, 
 Xnd hies L'o an adjoining street 
 
 And joins his siren there, 
 Ind scorns the pleadings of the maid'. 
 
 He meets irpon tlie way, 
 Who', while she in- his service v^as. 
 
 He vilely did betray. 
 
 "That's pretty stuff to put in print,' " 
 
 I hear somebody say, 
 But is- it worse to write it up^ 
 
 Than 'tis^to act it, pray ? 
 And you angelic creatures who*' 
 
 With fury dap your wings-, 
 .\r.e very liable to be 
 
 The ones who do these things. 
 
 Tou know they say the truth cuts hard. 
 
 And tliat is what I tell,. 
 And for »uch hypocrites as this 
 
 I hope there ivS a hell ;. 
 A gooi old fashioned hell, where thosf 
 
 Who claim to love the Lord,. 
 Rut serve the Devil in their hearts 
 
 May find their just reward. 
 
 And though you think 1 say too much 
 
 About Licentious loves. 
 It's high time that this subject should 
 
 Be handled without gloves. 
 But whatsoe'er you think or say 
 
 I''m sure I'll try to bear it. 
 And whosoe'er the coat may fife 
 
 May put it on and vrear it. 
 
 SILLY WOMEN' 
 
 Oh you sill}' minded women, 
 
 Caring but for dress and show,. 
 Daubing on your paint and powder, 
 
 Ijre you on the war path go; 
 vStriving to' attract attention 
 
 From the gentlemen you meet,. 
 Making mashes, as yon call it, 
 
 On the rowdies of the street; 
 
5'» 
 
 Sneering at your wiser sisters 
 
 Who refuse with you to roam, 
 Tou will wish ere this has ended 
 
 You like they had stayed at home. 
 Though you deem 'tis admiration 
 
 That these people feel for you, 
 'You w^ould soon change your opinion 
 
 If the truth of it you knew, 
 And could you but hear the speeches 
 
 Intermixed with slurs and sneers 
 'That they make to friends about you, 
 
 How your smiles would change to tears, 
 -And althoirgli you deem she's slighted 
 
 Whom such people notice least, 
 :Know you not that buzzards gather 
 
 Where they're surest of a feast ? 
 -And when through yoxir silly conduct 
 
 You have won a tarnished name, 
 "You will have this consolation, 
 
 There's none but A'ourselves to blame. 
 
 NO GOOD ON EARTH. 
 
 The man who's always borrowing 
 
 But never wants to lend ; 
 Who will abuse behind his back 
 
 His very truest friend ; 
 "Who with the rowdies loiters on 
 
 The corner of the stree^t ; 
 ^Mlo always will accept a drink 
 
 Rut never offers treat ; 
 Who dawdles all his time away 
 
 Upon the thoroughfare. 
 Insulting half the women folks 
 
 Who have to meet him there ; 
 Who could be bought for just a cent, 
 
 {A cent more than he's worth) ; 
 This is the man of whom T sing. 
 
 He is no good oti earth. 
 
 The woman who about her work 
 
 Is slovenly and slack ; 
 W^ho takes all that her husband earns 
 
 And puts it on her back ; 
 Who while her kitchen work's undone 
 
 From house to house doth gad, 
 
5: 
 
 Proclaiming that all womenkind 
 
 Except herself are bad ; 
 Who*alway^-seems to want to be 
 
 The first to cast the stone ; 
 Who while condemning others faults 
 
 Forgets about her own ; 
 Who when her little soul was bom 
 
 A cipher had its birth ; 
 This woman 'tis of whom I sing, 
 
 She is no good on earth. 
 
 vStand forth ! You prisoner at the bar, 
 Now have 3-ou aught to say, 
 
 Wh)' you for taking forcibh' 
 This person's gold away 
 
 .Should not this day be sentenced to 
 The penitentiary ? 
 
 I have. You'll find within that book 
 That lies there on the shelf 
 
 A good sufficient reason why 
 I from him took his pelf, 
 
 And 'twas because it says the Lord 
 Helps him who helps himself. 
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S SON(;. 
 
 I'm a jolly chap and frisky, 
 Very fond of drinking whiskey, 
 
 But you know that I suppose, 
 By my clothes so old and tattered. 
 And my hat so rough and battered. 
 
 And the blossoms on ni}' nose. 
 
 I have neither shirt nor collar, 
 Drunk I get on every dollar. 
 
 Or I should say every cent, 
 Then I wallow in the ditches, 
 Badly soiling coat and breeches, 
 
 Until I to jail am sent. 
 
 Once I had a wife and baby 
 Just as nice as yours is, maybe, 
 
 But I went upon a drunk 
 And came home and took the poker. 
 Knocked her down and tried to choke her 
 
 And I guess it raised her spunk 
 
Yor she went away next iiiorranjj 
 'Thout a single word of warning-., 
 
 And I've never seen lier since, 
 -So I drink, Iwccough, and stutter. 
 And go sprawling in tli€ gutter, 
 
 Just asliappy as a prince. 
 
 ^Sotnetimes a'fter drunken revels, 
 Snakes I see and little devils. 
 
 And they clamber roujid m}- bed. 
 Then the wa\' I howl and bellow- 
 Is enough to scare a fellow 
 
 Eaiiamost out of his bead. 
 
 'Then come on, you drinking devil, 
 »Soon with nie you'll find your levels 
 
 Come ahead and take a drink. 
 But if we donH soon prohibit. 
 In the jail or on the gibbet 
 
 We shall end our lives T think 
 
 THE MOST IMPORTANT TOPIC 
 
 I cannot help but notice 
 
 When I take up the papers, 
 The place of honor they devote 
 
 To pugilistic capers, 
 •Of half a dozen ruffian brutes, 
 
 •Who pound and maul each other 
 Until it is impossiUe 
 
 To tell the which from t'othef. 
 
 This all absorbing topic fills 
 
 Its most important pages, 
 As it describes how Jack and Tom 
 
 Each other mauled for wages. 
 Whilst the inferior themes of state, 
 
 Like little Jack}' HorueJ- 
 With Sammy's rights and Ireland's wrongL^ 
 
 Are stuck off in the corner. 
 
 The paper dwells upon the scene 
 
 And piants in pictures glowing 
 Their attitudes within the pit, 
 
 Their every movement showing. 
 And raves about their brawn, (not brain) 
 
 Their actions and reposes, 
 And how they cracked each other's ribs 
 
 And broke each other's noses. 
 
54 
 
 It tells how Thomas Knock-em-Down's 
 
 Opponent rushed forth at him, 
 Expecting on tliV verj' spot 
 
 To wonderfully bat him, 
 But Thomas, hisVggressor's blow 
 
 Now parried discreetly, 
 And at the tenth or 'leventh round 
 
 He knocked him out completeh-. 
 
 And thus the paper goes along 
 
 The combatatants applauding, 
 And of the one -who won the fight 
 
 It speaks in language lauding, 
 And I myself can't help but own 
 
 'Tis very elevating, 
 A thirst for all that's great and good 
 
 Within the soul creating. 
 
 But when some people whom we know 
 
 Get in a scrimmage d.unken, 
 We think that when they've come to blows 
 
 It's very low they've sunken 
 But then it makes some difierence 
 
 In fighting I'll go bail 
 If men ten thousand dollars win 
 
 Or sixty days in jail. 
 
 DARK- 
 
 They mixed them up the black and white 
 To judge which one was nearest right, 
 And what do you think ? The blackest sheep 
 Came out at the head and top of the heap. 
 
 THE CHANGR. 
 
 Dear girls, there's been an awful change 
 
 Since John and I were married, 
 And could I have that change forseen 
 
 I longer would have tarried, 
 Nor would have been in such a haste 
 
 To leave that land of blisses, 
 Where life was but one round of love 
 
 And sweet delicious kisses ; 
 But now, alas, no kiss I get, 
 
 That nonsense all is over, 
 
55 
 
 For when I did a husband win 
 I lost my darling lover. 
 
 He used to call nie ere we'd wed 
 
 His little pigeon Hattie 
 Because I was so very plump, 
 
 But now he calls me Fatty ; 
 And then he raved in glowing terms 
 
 Aboxit my auburn tresses, 
 And wore a lock next to his heart 
 
 With pieces of my dresses, 
 But I no more am auburn haired, 
 
 I simply am redheaded. 
 It's color's taken such a change 
 
 vSince John and I were wedded. 
 
 You know he used to come to tea 
 
 When he and I were coiirting, 
 And then he used to say to me. 
 
 Without a thought of sporting, 
 The biscuits that I used to make 
 
 When we took tea together. 
 Were nice enough for Angel's food 
 
 And lighter than a feather ; 
 But now when T such biscuits make 
 
 (With woe I write these pages) 
 Instead of feath'ry angel food 
 
 He calls them rocks of ages. 
 
 lie used to tell his pigeon then 
 
 Before he'd really caught her, 
 vSlie'd never be obliged to put 
 
 Her hands into cold water ; 
 But when I spoke of it to-day. 
 
 With sorrow I repeat it, 
 He said he didn't s'pose I'd be 
 
 Too lazy for to heat it ; 
 And that is just the way it goes 
 
 Dear girls the wide world over, 
 The minute you a husband win 
 
 You'll surelv lose vour lover. 
 
 Man and wife met in a dark hallway. 
 
 And they hugged and kissed each other, 
 For he thought it was her sister 
 
 And she thouhht it was his brother. 
 Found out their mistake of course 
 Now are suing for divorce. 
 
5-6 
 
 HOW rDHAVHHHRBf:: 
 
 f wish S had a clianning- wife 
 To walk with'me the path of hfe, 
 Who how to pTease nie e're woold eon^ 
 \nd keep ni}" buttons all sewed on.. 
 
 [.'d have her when the sun sh®uld rise 
 To open wids her tender eyes. 
 And give me their first loving glance.. 
 And hem the bottoms of my pants. 
 
 A model wife'^l'd have her be. 
 From gossip and backbiting free, 
 To ease niy pains awA heal my hurts^ 
 .And patch up my old undershirts. 
 
 [• would prefer with her tx) staj', 
 Ikit when that I must be away 
 I'd have her heed my fond requests, 
 And set new backs in my old vests^ 
 
 Her greatest happiness should be. 
 
 To seat lierself and sew for me 
 
 Until her e3'es burst from their sockets. 
 
 But whan she'd mended keep my pockets. 
 
 Thiis she should be a charming wife 
 Who happier would make my life. 
 For Well I know she'd on me dote 
 And fix the lining of mj' coat. 
 
 A,nd like a pair of turtle doves. 
 We'd feast and thrive upon our loves. 
 For I would bill and she could coo 
 And keep mj' stockings darned up too- 
 
 THE wmi 
 
 A hat, coat, vest and a pair of pants. 
 
 And the figure they contain, 
 A pair of shoes and a fly necktie, 
 
 And a great big headed cane, 
 And if thati should go to the pains. 
 To find which head contained the most Ijrains 
 The head of the dude or the head of the cane 
 1 think that my efforts would all be in vain. 
 
57 
 
 WHICH WAS WORST? 
 
 11 was at an evening party 
 
 Where the people had conversed 
 
 Of the ravages of sparrows 
 
 And of worms and which was worst? 
 
 Miss DeStnith sat next her suitor 
 
 Who the conversation lost, 
 As a book of fine engravings 
 
 His attention had engiossed. 
 
 She not knowing that the fellow 
 
 Had not heard a single word, 
 Of the conversation asked him 
 
 Which he thought worst, worm or bird ? 
 
 Are sparrows then as bad as worms ? 
 
 " What think you Mr. Barrows? " 
 " I cannot tell " he said surprised, 
 
 " I never have had sparrows." 
 
 LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP 
 
 If ever you are tempted 
 
 To go beyond your means, 
 And buy a suit of broadcloth 
 
 When you should purchase jeans, 
 Or buy a useless object 
 
 Because it is so cheap, 
 You'd better take my coun.sel 
 
 And look before you leap. 
 
 If ever you are tempted 
 
 To cut a brilliant dash, 
 And like a dazzling comet 
 
 All end up in a flash ; 
 You'll find 'twas injudicious 
 
 To fly where you should creep 
 And break your neck in falling, 
 
 So look before you leap. 
 
 Young fellows, if you're tempted 
 When flushed a deal with wine, 
 
 Because a creature waltzes 
 So awfully divine 
 
 To pop the question to her. 
 Go home and go to sleep, 
 
58 
 
 And sober up a little, 
 
 And look before you leap 
 
 Remember ^irls, when tempte.i 
 
 To wed a sporting man, 
 Because he's gay and handsome, 
 
 Instead of honest Dan, 
 Who'll make the truest husband 
 
 A lifetime you may weep 
 For just a moment's folly, 
 
 So look before you leap. 
 
 In whatsoever business 
 
 In life yoft may embark. 
 You'll save your soul from trouble 
 
 If unto me you'll hark, 
 Nor go it at a gallop 
 
 Where you should only creep, 
 And keep your eyes wide open 
 
 And look before you leap. 
 
 MR. JONES AND THH ROCKIM; CHAIR 
 
 Home from the club came Mr. Jones, 
 
 And with a silent step 
 He entered his domicile. 
 
 And up the stairs he crept. 
 
 Now Mrs. Jones, with great forethought, 
 
 Had placed the rocking chair 
 For Mr. Jones to stumble o'er 
 
 When he came up the stair. 
 
 For though he said 'twas only ten 
 
 When he got home club night, 
 She thought if he had said 'twas one 
 
 He'd hit it nearer right. 
 Jones' mind was full of funny things 
 
 That happened at the club, 
 When all at once against the chair 
 
 He chanced his toe to stub. 
 
 The chair rocked back and hit his chin, 
 
 And made him bite his tongue 
 As down he stooped to pet his toe 
 
 And then the fight begun. 
 
 Jones pitched into that rocking chair 
 That rocking chair at him, 
 
59 
 
 And from the first I will admit 
 Jones' chance was pretty slim. 
 
 He hit it squarely in the back, 
 
 It made a forward plunge, 
 And with its rockers sharp from behind 
 
 It gave his chest a lunge. 
 
 He kicked at it with all his might, 
 
 But that kick cost him woe, 
 It barked the skin from off his shin, 
 
 The nail from ofif his toe. 
 
 Then if a man was ever mad 
 
 That man was Mr. Jones, 
 As round about that chair he pranced 
 
 With smothered swears and groans. 
 
 Now if he'd given up the fight 
 
 And left the chair alone. 
 And bathed his wounds with arnica, 
 
 He wisdom would have shown. 
 
 But no that chair should never think 
 
 It got the best of him, 
 vSo headlong at the pesky thing 
 
 He rushed with all his vim. 
 
 Oh dear me suz, he went so fast 
 
 He sprawled across the chair, 
 And with a most tremendous din 
 
 They tumbled down the stair. 
 
 Sometimes the chair was on the top 
 
 And sometimes Mr. Jones, 
 The chair its back and rockers broke. 
 
 And he most of his bones. 
 
 Then Mrs. Jones with injured air 
 Asked what that racket meant, 
 
 (Though she had placed that rocking chair 
 With villainous intent. ) 
 
 But Mr. Jones the point now saw, 
 
 Or thought he saw the fun. 
 When from the sitting room the clock 
 
 Chimed out the hour— 'twas one. 
 
 He answered not a single word, 
 
 But picked up his remains 
 And silently crept up to bed 
 
 To nurse his aches and pains. 
 
6o 
 
 Now not a word said Mrs. Jones 
 Concerning what had been, 
 
 Bnt Mr. Jones from that night on 
 Arrived at he-xiie at ten. 
 
 LEATHER BREFXHHS 
 
 Come sit you down beside nie 
 
 And listen while I tell 
 A circumstance peculiar, 
 
 Which unto me befell 
 When I was but a stripling 
 
 Upon my father's farm 
 Which filled my soul with horror 
 
 And terrible alarm. 
 
 Full well do I remember, 
 
 'Twas on an autumn day 
 And I to Uncle Nathan's 
 
 Had started on my way 
 To do my father's errand 
 
 And have him come at morn, 
 And bring his yoke of oxen 
 
 To help us draw our corn. 
 I had on leather breeches 
 
 Through which a hole had worn 
 Upon the seat which mother 
 
 Had patched, but I had torn 
 It loose somehow or other. 
 
 And now to make it right 
 I stuffed it in the opening 
 
 And hid it out of sight. 
 I went along quite nicely 
 
 Until I did commence 
 To stone the little chipmunks 
 
 That played around the fence, 
 And then I found some chestnuts 
 
 A lying on the ground, 
 And when of these I gathered, 
 
 A hare I chased around. 
 And so the time I wasted 
 
 In idleness and play. 
 Until I should have been there 
 
 And on my homeward way, 
 When all at once my feelings 
 
 Experienced quite a shock, 
 
6! 
 
 Pot when from home I started 
 'Twas only three o'clock 
 
 And now from indications. 
 
 As sure as Fin alive, 
 And it's fhe trut"h I'm tellin^f. 
 
 It was as late as five, 
 And as I was a coward 
 
 I started on a rim 
 And reached my Uncle Nathan^s 
 
 At setting of the sun. 
 
 I qiiickly did my errand 
 
 And "hied me from the s])ot^ 
 And started for my fathers 
 
 Upon a lively trot. 
 For as it now was twilight 
 
 And dark "'twould be at six, 
 And I'd two miles to travel 
 
 I had to pick up sticks 
 
 I've said I was a coward 
 
 And 'twas tlie truth I told, 
 "For certainly beside me 
 
 A hare was overbold, 
 And when up close behind me 
 
 I heard a fearful sound 
 My feet, I went so swiftly, 
 
 Did scarcely touch the ground. 
 
 P^or terror lent me fleetuess 
 
 And on I went like wind, 
 That horrifying creature 
 
 Still coming on behind. 
 
 3 dared not look behind me 
 
 For fear of what I'd see. 
 For all the while the monster 
 
 Kept right up close to me. 
 And when I tried to leave it 
 
 I couldn't make it do, 
 For when I went the faster 
 
 That went the faster too. 
 
 The moon looked down in horror, 
 
 The stars in pity stared. 
 And I meanwhile a getting 
 
 Still worse and worser scared. 
 
 Into infernal spirits 
 Seemed changed the stubs and posts 
 
62- 
 
 And little shrubs and bushes 
 All seemed^turned into ghosts . 
 
 Rap, rap, on came the creature- 
 
 And I flew on before 
 Chased bj' the fearful monster 
 
 Along the road I tore, 
 When all at once before me 
 
 A welcome light did beam^ 
 And for the glorious beacon 
 
 I flew on-like a dream, 
 
 Wliile still up close behind me- 
 
 The climax for to cap 
 Came on that flying creature 
 
 With its unearthly rap,. 
 Ahd on it foUowe i after 
 
 Up to the kitchen door 
 As I with yell terrffic 
 
 Sprang in upon the floor. 
 And looked around Ijehind me 
 
 To see if I could see 
 
 That horrifpng creature 
 That had so frightened me, 
 
 And sure enough the thing I saw. 
 Oh shades of ghosts and witches, 
 
 'Twas nothing but that dangling patch 
 A flapping on my breeches. 
 
 THE MAN OP ONI: IDEA. 
 
 For merc5''s sake, do look a there. 
 There comes that horrid old night mare. 
 That man who'd make a preacher swear, 
 That man of one idea. 
 
 He'll put ottr souls upon the rack 
 And. take us down that beaten track, 
 Then turn and come the same way back. 
 That man of one idea, 
 
 That same old story he will tell. 
 Ring that old ding, dong, sing, song bell 
 With its eternal constant knell, 
 This man of one idea. 
 
?>3 
 
 For Heaven's sake go get a gun 
 And shoot, and then pretend 'twas done 
 By accident or jnst in fun, 
 This man of one idea. 
 
 'The Lily and the Rose got to quarreling, 
 The Rose called the Lily a white livered thing. 
 The Lily told the rose if ^he was in her place 
 She'd go and pnt some powder on her old red face. 
 
 MY FIRST PANTS 
 
 I suppose I should say 
 That my happiest day 
 
 Was the day that I called you my wife^ 
 But the day I'll advance 
 That I donned my first pants 
 
 Was the happiest day of my life. 
 
 I for office have run 
 And my party has won. 
 
 And I also won you for a wife ; 
 And our first was a boy 
 Who's a hope and a joy 
 
 And a happiness unto my life. 
 
 I have tasted the bliss 
 
 Of loves first sweetest kiss, 
 
 And I've seen my plans flourish and grow, 
 Fondest hopes gratified 
 I have drank in my pride 
 
 All the joys that this world can bestow. 
 
 I've the lottery sought 
 And a ticket I've bought, 
 
 Which a fortune to me did advance, 
 But there's nothing can give 
 Though forever I live 
 
 Such a J03' as m}' first pair of pants, 
 
 KINDRED SPIRITS. 
 
 Oh wh}' should kindred spirits 
 With but one mind, one heart, 
 
 With every thought in common 
 Be doomed to dwell apart ? 
 
 Why must th}' heaving bosom 
 Whereon m)' heart should rest 
 
 Forever and forever 
 
 Be severed from this breast ? 
 
64 
 
 Why must this mighty passion 
 Which rends our souls in twain. 
 
 And speaks of untold blisses 
 I'orever be in vain ? 
 
 Thy passionate caresses 
 Why must I e'er forego 
 
 And miss the sweetest pleasures 
 This world can e're bestow ? 
 
 Oh why must my kindred spirits 
 With but orte mind, one heart. 
 
 Forever and forever 
 
 Redoomed to dwell apart. 
 
 SOMHOXH HLSirS FAULTS 
 
 Mow ver}- fast we are to note the failings of our brother. 
 But cultivate ourselves those traits we hate so in another ; 
 Nor in our ignorance we deem as we their faults condemn. 
 That they as mean things see in us as we can see in them. 
 
 'Tis altogether too niucli time we people sj>end in railing 
 About somebody else's faults and some one else's failings, 
 For we're so anxious for their .sins to cast at them the stone. 
 That in our haste we all forget to think about our own. 
 
 If we would hetchel our ov%n flax and 'tend to our own spin- 
 ning, 
 
 We'd not have (juite so much of time to note our neighbors 
 sining ; 
 
 And as we for some fancied sin, their character assault — 
 
 We do not know enough to know we've much the meaner 
 fault. 
 
 It makes me think of fabled limes, when men bore on their 
 
 shoulders 
 A hump wherein their faults were made quite plain to all 
 
 beholders ; 
 And each man thought from such defects that he alone was 
 
 free — 
 Because the hump on his own back, he in no wise could see. 
 
 And so my friends to our own faults, let's give our whole 
 attention ; 
 
 Nor dare, as long as we've one left, another ones to mention; 
 
 An pray that fate, from scorn and tdiame and much con- 
 tempt to free us ; 
 
 Will give us power to see ourselves, — as other people see us.