5 >> )S ,s" .O^V^' \ N ^:^^' \\ \ &l!?fcpBllltir^ !^ i'^^^^x: ^ ' \ N ^"^ \ V *^^)s Why man should feel sad at the close of day. For the earth, when robed in the garb of spring, Bubbles with mirth, and the glad birds sing Like man, who in vigor of youth says, "I, Who am strong and comely, shall never die." The summer comes, and the burning sun Takes from the grasses, one by one, The vigor that made them seem so rare, While man finds out that life has care. The fall, when the stubble field so bare. Tells of the harvest gathered there. Finds man in the sere and yellow leaf — Storm-tossed and cynic beyond belief. The winter, when driving wind and rain Seeks to revive the world again. Finds man laid away in his narrow bed, Oblivious to the tumult that rages o'erhead. 95 •BIG BUG." A bug is a bug, no matter what size, shape or color it is, and with no reference to the locality where it was from, for a bug can change location, if not at some one else's expense it can at its' own, for it is generally endowed with the power of locomotion. Bugs develop to a greater or less degree, according to the fruitfulness of the buggery in which Dame Fortune has cast their lot. As a general rule they are cannibalistic in their habits and prey upon each other with the usual result, the weaker going to the wall — of the stomach — while the victorious thrive on the spoils of conquest. That is, they generally spoil after getting it, and become abnormal in size and more particular about the quality of bugs they imbibe, and so broad of girth that they walk on the smaller bugs in entire unconsciousness of their proximity. Once in a while, when stepping 98 KODAKS. on one of the smaller of their kind, they find them slippery, like unto the tropical fruit peel- ing, and wrench their ungainly system so badly that ere they can recover they are boiling in the pot of the menial and ordinary bug. The prelude is simply to draw your attention to the term big-bug in the sense it is generally used^ and to explain the derivation of the term. 97 ROMANCE. The acme of ethereal romance Is alluring and tempting to view Through a vista of undefined longings, Faintly tinged with a roseate hue. Cupid's victim, seeking to transcend The mount of reason, by a rocky slope, Xaughs lightly at disheveled vesture — He buoyed is by omnipresent hope. Upon the wings of faith he's carried far To mate himself unto a kindred soul, That in the glamour of withheld defect^^ Is reward ample for his penance dole. The mist of love lifts lightly, and afar Is seen a vast and dusty plain. KODAiKS. With bits of verdure cropping here and there. Like islands peeping from the rolling main. The vapor settles with the double load, For heart is lighter, with own burdens lone, Gilt apex soon is lost to vision — Gaunt discord brings the first halftone. .Some fancied grievance or well-meaning truth Helps cover more of space than intervenes Between the rainbow tints of perfect love And plain, where sombre shades are seen. When all too late, a backward glance discerns No vestige of the fabled garden fair ; The idol shattered, crumbles to the dust. While hope dissolves and fades away in air. 99 A FEW DIRECTIONS. I was in a market the other day and heard a woman order a turkey. She stipulated, first, that it must be plump; second, that it must weigh seven pounds — no more, no less ; third, that it should be delivered at her house within half an hour; fourth, that it must be tender; fifth, that it must be of the hen variety ; sixth, that it should be one that has been fattened on corn ; seventh, that she didn't want that little Irishman to de- liver it; eighth, that she wanted two pounds of suet donated with it ; ninth, that it should be wrapped in white paper instead of brown ; tenth, that the fine feathers should be singed off; eleventh, that it should be killed with chloro- form ; twelfth, that its throat should then be cut with a razor ; thirteenth, that it should be hung up by the hind legs for two hours after having its throat cut; fourteenth, that the collector mustn't bring the bill for ninety days; and the market man promised to do all these things, as market men will. 100 THE SELFISH SUNS. Said the moon to the earth, When he called at night: *'You're not looking well ; Don't you feel just right?" "No, you know my sun, He's made me so dry — He lives beyond you. Up there in the sky — "Got up this morning. And was awfully hot About something or other — It doesn't matter what. "He took the cool water Fve been stowing away, 101 / KODAKS. Up into the sky — It has turned my hair gray. 'But it's just like the sons Of some mortals I know, Who leave the old folks To hoe in life's row — 'Until nothing is left But a furrow of care — A promise of heaven, And the weakness of prayer/ 102 MATERNAL LOVE. One thousand dollars offered as a prize for a- horse race; two dollars offered as a prize for the handsomest baby; both prizes offered by the- same aggregation of intellect. I suppose, the great unwashed ar^ to blame for the wide diversity of valuation between the ani- mal and the human, for while a man may admire and covet his neighbor's horses, he doesn't covet his neighbor's children. Every mother thinks her baby is the sweetest, dearest, brightest crea- ture on earth. She should think so. If she didn't the early life of her children would be a pretty hard row of stumps. Being imbued with this idea, she enters the child for competition,, just the same as Farmer Jones enters his calves. Looking at her infant through the spectacles of mother love, she can see no reason why her prodigy shouldn't carry off the honors. If she is^ 103 KODAKS. poor she will g^o without the necessaries of life to buy beautiful clothes for her baby, and as she sits down in the crowd of "female women," each liolding the same opinion in her mind and her cherub in her lap, her bosom swells with love and pride and fear. Yes, fear that the judges may be iDiased and do her offspring an injustice. The contest is over, the prizes are awarded, and two or three have the satisfaction of know- ing their judgment to be correct. But what of the rest? Weary and sick at heart, their tired limbs drag them home, where they can sob out their misery and shame. Shame at their folly in subjecting their darlings to such an ordeal, and misery because having done so, they were weighed in the balance and found to be inferior specimens of humanity. 101 JEST NOBODY. Nobody, jest nobody, Hustlin' aroun' in the world; Aint seekin' nuthin' or lookin' — Everything seems so cold. Leastwise, jest glancin' at it, Whil'st trottin' along in the race; Can't see no sunshine in it, 'Cepting now and then a face — Thet peeks out of grimy doorways, And, for a minit or two, Shines o'er the road I'm treadin', 'Twixt lines mighty narrow and blue. l«i CUTE, BUT TROUBLESOME. Some dainty bits of dainty lace, Fringing a wee, round, dimpled face, Some golden curls, tossed by the breeze, A tiny nose that tries to sneeze. Two pudgy fists, two pretty eyes, A mouth that laughs, and also cries. Two little feet with cunning toes, Belong to a baby, as everyone knows. 106 THE SOUL A famous novelist makes a character say: "The soul originall}^ is a small affair, but can be made whatever the owner chooses by education. It can be raised to any height or lowered to any depth, as the possessor may see fit." What a theory to advance! A soul is as large in a child as it ever will be. The soul is not edu- cated and cannot be taught. The soul is that subtle feeling that permits a person to realize anything that is beautiful, grand or divine; also causes them to feel sorrow at such calamities that may come under their observation. Education does not develop the soul; it develops the brain and gives the tongue words to tell of the beauties that the soul feels and sees. You will often find in association with uneducated persons that they have ideas that are grand, but lack the power to express them. Again you will find persons who 107 KODAKS. liaYe every facility to familiarize themselves with what are considered the higher branches of mental attainment who never put forward any idea that is grand, never express a word of rap- ture over a work of art, never show a semblance of sorrow over other's woes ; and still a de- lineator of character in a work of fiction (verily it is fiction) has the audacity to assert that a liuman soul is originally small and is enlarged according to its scope of observation. loa LIFE. Groping for knowledge with retentive brain, Thirsting for pleasure with an unconse»©us soul; A child, with all of life before. Is not unlike a glistening lump of coal. The teachings first impressed upon the mind, That guide it from the raw, uncultured state. Are like the kindlings that ignite the coal When first 'tis placed upon the grate. The slender tongues of fire, lapping at its si Receive at last a reward for their zeal; Blue smoke arising from the mass. Seems mourning for the life 'tis made t© feeL 109 KODAKS. The gas within, that is the heart and soul, Sometimes from crevice glows with sapphire hue, Then fades away, like passions of a mortal. In fitful gleam that cannot burn anew. Bright and enticing, like the walks of life, That parch the frame and turn dark hair to gray, The fire blazes ever toward the heart. And slowly eats the outer wall away. At last the vital spot is reached — The zenith, all the mass a living coal, Knowledge has burned out every hope, And ashes show, to life-long toil, the goal. no d POET AND PHILOSOPHER. "Pa, what is a poet?" "A poet, my son, is a misguided individual who thinks the sun would forget to come up or go down if he didn't explain it." "Is that all he does?" "No, my son ; he sometimes varies the monot- ony by being choked to death." "By what?" "Sometimes by emotion and occasionally by a bone of contention." "That's sad, aint it; but pa, what's a philoso- pher?" "A philosopher, my son, is a person who tells why the poet died, and explains how he could have lived a long time if he had avoided skim milk and such rich food." "Does he do anything else, pa?" "Oh, yes ; when he gets to be an old man he generally takes care of the spotted calves at the county farm." Ill . A\ADE IN GOD'S IA\AGE. The earth, rocked on the bosom of limitless space, Cradled to sleep 'neath the twinkling stars. Crooned to and nursed by the glittering sun, Is being arrayed for the pageant of war. Mankind is pursuing the planning and building Of engines to kill, of schemes to decoy ; Each night and each day, on land and on sea, Brings forth some contrivance, a destroyer t® destroy. A duel of nations brings to the surface Men devoted to country, to honor, to home. Spurred on by excitement, the weak are cour- ageous. And fight to the death for a coveted bone. Ill KODAiKS. Each in his nest, the lap of a nation, Born at the hour when Babel fell. Is calling the muster, and donning the buckler. To summon the demons from deepest hell. Demons of darkness and pillage and carnage, Reeking with blood, o'erspattered with slime.> Creep from their hovels of pestilent silence. To revel in flotsam and jetsam of crime. Fever and famine trail in the wake. Left by an army to victory led; Some there are cheering for glories hard gained ;; Others are mourning for loved ones dead. Dead in the trenches, torn by some missile. Sent as a messenger screaming for peace ; Dead in the ocean, gone down in a warship, The tale of whose prowess never will cease. Man, with his pratings, called reason and logic^ Still is a savage, thirsting for gore ; Though cloak of civilian is drawn about him. Heathen he is, to his heart's core. List to him fan his illusions to reason ; Look at him writhe with impotent rage; m KODAKS. Hark to him rant of justice and mercy, Posing the while as a seer and a sage. Trims he the beacon of thought that inspired him; CoddHng it gently to warm it to life; Coaxing his anger with incense of passion; Unleashing his tongue in a harangue for strife. JEgotistic, despotic, selfish, how human — Sires and dams of the furies he woos ; Slaking the while through the ashes of heroes, A parallel theorist from them to choose. 114 MISGUIDED ENERGY. "Many men of many kinds, many men of many minds"" necessitates the corraling on one earth or in one country or on one island or in one city a heterogeneous assortment of men, ranging in abiHty from a preacher up to a lawyer, with the space between filled with common rogues, like- merchants, doctors, county and city officials, etc. It's a tough sandwich, for whenever anyone tries to bite a piece out of it they generally break a jaw or loosen up a few teeth in the attempt* and then quit. It is to be regretted that the rev- erend gentlemen who have got the Parkhurst habit and who have interested themselves in purifying the moral atmosphere of western cities have discovered that California has a national reputation for immorality. It is certainly news to the great unwashed to learn that such is the case, and there is just a possibility that the idea the reverend gentlemen mean to convey is that 115 KODAKe. a dead sheep in San Francisco smells worse than if it were in New York or Chicago]. It is glad- dening to the hearts of seekers for a public that is pure and unsullied to learn that in the Eastern States immorality has been reduced to a mini- mum; that all the men in those various places have ceased to sin, even with their eyes; that all the women are models of virtue ; but it is a source of wonder how the newspapers of those States discover so many cases of depravity, especially when it is taken into consideration that the average Easterner will not share any- thing, not even the odor of a dead sheep. It is a sign of progress to have the ministry take part in matters political, for they can assist very mater- ially in educating the masses to the old-fashioned idea of doing right for the sake of right, if they go about it in the correct way, but they should remember that this is California, the grandesl State of the Union; a State that is picturesque; and romantic in the extreme, and the bulk of the men and women who comprise its population are warm-hearted, impulsive and generous, qualifi- cations that can be possessed without depravity of mind or action, and they resent the insula to their good name embodied in the reverend gen- tlemen's conclusions and arguments. 116 KODAKS. There are poor depraved specimens of human- ity here as well as elsewhere; there always have been and always will be. Pastoral influence in the proper direction will materially reduce the percentage of evil-doers, but the proper direc- tion is not by barking over the heads of their' own kind in a hall, but in the highway and the byways, a word of counsel and a helping hand where needed. Such actions will bring lukewarm supporters from under cover who will join the procession and help the good work, but nothing will be gained by maligning the State as a whole or by stirring the dead sheep with a stick and then hastening away from the odor, shouting: "It must be stopped ; it is offensive ; let some brave man be appointed to bury it." PAST AND PRESENT. To those who teach the holy word, And love to tell of the good Lord, Whose life blood ebbed upon the tree That crowned the Mount of Calvary, Who died that mortals might live on, With hope of heaven to gird their loins ; And who, when spreading forth his creed. Gave not a thought to worldly greed, But lived the simple holy life That quells the turmoil, soothes the strife — Whose helpers asked but bed and board — No earthly dross they sought to hoard. The}^ told the simple homely truth ; They lived and proved their sterling worth. Turn from the picture of the past, To creeds and dogmas of to-day ; To men who figure, in cold blood, Will saving souls of mortals pay? Who think of comforts that money brings. Who clink it to the words of hymns, And name the amount that they require To haul a soul from out the mire. lis IVONDERFUL I once heard an ex-resident of sunny Mexico,, who was still a trifle shy of '^EngHsh as she am spoke," exclaim in a burst of poetic fancy, "How wonderful we are make." and must say that he diagnosed the case correctly. For instance, the plans and specifications for a modern upholster- ed female, if submitted to the architect of the original, Eve, would cause him to seek the seclu- sion of his factory and kick himself for sawing ofif a framework on a man and a brother that could be utilized in such a manner. It is also a question, open or liable to argument, after the opportunities he has had to observe the freedom of speech, with variations, also without varia- tions, used by the feminine race in daily life, as to • whether he would make them tongue-tied or not furnish any tongue at all, if he had the job to do over. Of course, he will have to be forgiven, for 119 KODAKS. it stands to reason "he knew not what he did," any more than Darius Green knew what he was going to do when he essayed his first trip with iiis flying machine, only Darius did his own ex- perimenting, and the mighty genius who builded a fair woman from a rib deputized someone else to take the risk of piloting the dear creature through this earthly paradise, and, like unfortu- nate Darius, striking earth occasionally with a resonant chug. Don't gather from the foregoing that I am an impressionist and have been pressed into the be- lief that woman has the right and title to all the peculiarities of humanity. She has neither the right nor the title to them. Just because she has taken them doesn't prove her ownership any more than Chairman Jones' assertion that Lo- quacious Bryan would be the next President of the United States made him so. Ah, but that man Jones, and Willie, Willie Bryan! They are made wonderful, too. Why, Willie can talk as much as a woman, and another thing in his favor, he can say as much, too ; and Jones, dear Jones, he can stick to his opinions, just like a woman, when it has been proven tCK him in a thousand ways and nine thousand times that he is wrong. KODAKS. Another wonderful thing is the PopuHst, or a PopuHst, as you choose. Learned men are won- dering where the hybrid sprung from and what he is good for. They differ somewhat as to the wherefrom part, but are unanimous in their ver- dict that he is good for nothing. For pecuHari- ties of construction I commend you to a ward poHtician. If the rnantle of Chief Executive should fall on his shoulders and he were carry- ing the world around on his back he couldn't ap- parently be endowed with graver responsibilities, and he is in such fear of the enemy overhearing his deep-laid schemes that he accumulates the habit, even if he meets a man in the middle of a ten-acre tract, with nothing in sight but a soli- tary cabbagehead, of hauling the man behind that cabbagehead to tell him that his only chance of a haven in the beautiful beyond is to vote for Busted Boodle for Supervisor. Even then he is afraid the cabbagehead will talk. And man — just plain man — is wonderful. The first thing he learns is to grasp. His tiny red> hands claw the air in a vain endeavor to grasp something and in the tender age of babyhood he lays the foundation for the saying that a man is never contented only when his appetite is satis- fied. He keeps on grasping in a graduated 121 KODAKS. course from rubber rings, marbles, tops pie, green apples, baseball bats, cigarettes, education, up to other people's money, and in the end makes a final grasp for breath. But the most wonderful of all is woman — dear, sweet, lovable woman. There is only one thing that is any more wonderful than a woman, and that is another woman. 123 A FEMININE HABIT. A maiden quite fair, And of age quite uncertain, Sought, by aid of a seer, To peer through life's curtain. The seer, keenly conscious Of the maiden's desire. Proved the opposite sex To be consummate liars. Then she took him to task, Did this seeker for truth. For dispelling an illusion. And asked for more proof. T see," said the seer, "You are like woman ever, You seek for advice — Do you take it? No, never." CREATION. There's a sort of fascination In hatching out a plot — Bringing to a point of focus Something that has happened not. Picking out some odd example, Met by chance upon the street, Clothing it with idle fancies, Till it seems to be complete. Here another, there a couple, Wedge in at the proper time, Soon appears a common novel, Sold at retail for a dime. 124 JUST LIFE; THATS' ALL. He had dabbled somewhat in the wonderful things, That were shown him day by day, And was prone to conclude, like the average man, That no one could term him a jay. One day, while parading a business highway. And thinking, the thoughts of a man, He chanced to observe a wonderful phiz Made on a new and original plan. At least that is what his judgment discerned, And, like all the rest of his race. He followed their course for centuries past, And was won by a pretty face. 125 KODAKS. The fine sunny quarters that once were his pride, With everything always in place, Took appearance like unto the cell of a monk — All so dull, dark and commonplace. How to change them? Why, yes, an excellent thought, He would ask that fair creature to share His ducats and all his available wealth — Then he'd leave that old bachelor's lair. So it all came to pass in due course of time; The wedding was a gilt-edge affair. And the guests who assembled to view the sad rites Pronounced them a bright, handsome pair. Five years have elapsed, as shown by the stars, And a man going home looking tired Has a ghost of resemblance to some one we know — Why, of course, that's the man we admired. 126 KODAiKS. The hour it is midnight; let's peep at the door. And see who it is lets him in; As I live, it's the lady he told that day That her happiness then would begin. She certainly looks, and looks are enough, That happiness to her was rare; But then that's the way of the world and the flesh— They were surely a bright, handsome pair. 127 FATE OF THE SOUL I called on my philosophical friend the other evening and found him in a rather peculiar humor. He was in a communicative mood and regaled me with some of his impressions. "Do you hear the breeze playing an aeolian cadence on the wires outside? It finds an echo in that inner self that has never been defined and more than likely its story will never be told by mortal tongue. My senses seem benumbed and my body seems hke a shell of tissue with naught but the heart for a tenant, and that swinging to and fro like the pendulum of a clock that is weary of its work, but mechanically beats the seconds, minutes and hours away, until the reaper in his gathering of the wheat and weeds alike stops its weary, faltering ticks and says that it shall find eternal sleep beneath the sod, that opens alike to rich and poor, to miser and 128 KOC'AKS. spendthrift, to toiler and sluggard, to philoso- pher and imbecile, to symbol of virtue and rake. of vice — all can claim a resting place in mother earth. And its surface, when restored to life, wilfc feel the breath of spring, when flowers bloom; and grass is green, will know the zenith of their glory when bright summer changes them to* tawny hue; can tell of autumn, when the gleaner- gathers the sheaves like unto the angel of deatk as he replenishes his domain. Then comes the winter, when the wild winds and beating raim try in vain to force through the sod, but the)r who sleep below are all unconscious of the pass- ing seasons and their placid rest is fit rewardl for the battles of life that in days agone have rag- ed around them. And the soul, that turbulent: spirit, what shall be its fate? Will it always. wander through space, a torment to self and a. menace to others, or will it find a home in that: beautiful though mythical beyond, that refuge- where the so-called chosen ones shall meet to- sing eternal songs of praise, or will it be a wan- dering gust of wind that o'er Ceylon's isles- blows soft and balmy, o'er Asia's sands burns with fire, o'er Artie seas freezes with the chilli of death, o'er America's fair land soothes withj the breath of life and hope, o'er isthmus carries 129 KODAKS. pestilence in its vapors? Here, there and every- "vvhere. At times a restorer; with the next Ibreath a destroyer, seeking ever for variety, and following it at all times without regard to wheth- er its wake is strewn with joy or sorrow." 130 HOPE. Hope's promise, like the breaking of the morn. First looks on inky blackness of the night, Flaked o'er the canopy with glinted diamonds, That promise give of future, pure and bright. Then grayish shadows float above the mountain crest, Driving the stars to Heaven's far-oflf land. While tinted halos mingle with the gray. And crimson gleams cause darkness to dis- band. Now glistening sun, the fire of universe, Creeps slowly o'er the hilltops, far away. Causes chilled nature to unfold her wings, And to the world is born another day. 131 KODAiKS. Hope, perched upon the eyre of desire, With fledgHng wings unfrosted by old time. Leaps from the pinnacle, every vein on fire, To win the laurels of a life sublime. Hope may not long for earthly wealth, Nor all roads lead to ancient Rome; There's a secret hidden in the heart and soul. That always sings of home, sweet home; Yet does seek pleasure of the fleeting joys, That find abode on this grim earth ; This wilderness of sin and flagrant jest. Where passions grand are fund for jocund mirth. Too soon the petals of the rose Are withered by the flash of Satan's fire; Too soon the perfume, dainty, rare and pure, Is faded by the breath of gaunt satire. Thus Hope has combat with the rugged world. Which, in the morn, gave promise bright and rare, But ere the mantle of the night is drawn, Has knowledge of the depths of pain and care. 132 CLEANSING FIRES. The science of chemistry and the many secrets of the crucible are ever an interesting subject. Man's life and efiforts could be likened to an as- say of quartz to determine its value. When first dumped into the crucible he is the raw product, or the natural ore, and perhaps the theoretical education he has obtained may show a cropping of a precious metal. As the fires of experience burn faster and fiercer the baser metals or quali- ties fade away in smoke and gases and their residuum shows the gold and merit of the dross and worthlessness that is the result of the cleans- ing fires. The best result of a man's work comes after he has burned out the theories and traditions that were handed down to him, when he has found for himself that experience is the only teacher, when he permits his mind to analyze all 138 KODAiK®. that passes before him and to select the gems of thought and not burden himself with the weight of superstition and its dogmas; when he has learned to live and let live. When this is ac- complished the rancor of contention goes on around him and he is ever unfeeling of its pres- ence, for he has learned the lesson, that life is too short to be made a continual struggle against fate, and happiness lies only in accepting the beauties and in shutting the eyes to the imper- fection of mankind in general. 134 TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN. Some say that love, the passion that imparts New life into a human being's heart, Is something that the will can sway, Or force to do as it may say. And others, just as firm in their belief, To such an argument are blind and deaf ; They say 'tis like a fragrant fragile flower, And must be kept within a guarded bower. To save a discourse, both tiresome and long, Let's say that both are right and both are wrong,. But if you wish a love to last and be intense^ Use one-half love and one-half common sense.. 196 TWILIGHT. When twilight shadows gather near, And turmoil of the day does cease, The war and tumult within self Is calmed, and for the time finds peace. The glow of crimson on the sky. From whence the orb of light has sank. Turns to dull ashen, fades away. Like life of man, whate'er his rank. The silhouette of mountain range. Blends with the wall of azure sky, And star of evening twinkles o'er The place where day has said goodbye. lise ANTE SLUMBER SOLILOQUIES. Midnight. The air sweet and balmy, as air can be only in California ; the lights are out, save the glimmer of a street lamp, shining through the edge of a curtain. You hear the rattle of a coupe over the paved street. Occasionally the footsteps of a belated pedestrian are heard, some- times ringing sharp and clear. You endeavor to judge from the sound who the passerby is and what kind of a mood he is in. The sharp, clear footstep has youth, and a large unexplored future before it ; the shuffling pace is the lazy mortal who would let everyone alone if he were shown the same distinction ; the dignified tread is the limb of the law, as he pursues his calling; the dragging, listless step is one to whom am- bition is a dead letter, and to whom Father Time, with his combined harvester, would be a wel- come vision. All of these pass almost uncon- sciously through your mind. Then you forget them, the sounds are unnoticed, the incense- laden air brings to your tired brain the longed- for languor, and Morpheus reigns. 1^7 AS LIFE GOES. While treading down the narrow lane That sometimes is called life, You meet a motley mass of souls, Mixed up in din and strife. The man who earns his daily bread, By sweat of manly brow, Envies the man who v/orks his head. And wishes he knew how. The man who in an oflEice toils Throughout the livelong day, Thinks what a picnic it would be To cut and stack some hay. And thus they jog around the track, Each thinking that the other Has comforts in his role of life Without the other's bother, 138 A TRAMP PHILOSOPHER. "Why am I a tramp?" the vagabond said', "Well, mister, mayhap I were better dead, And if I should tell you the reason why You'd think the version were all a lie. "But once on a time, not so long ago, I lived in the life of glitter and show, Struggling along in the rancor and strife That fills up the days of a city man's life. "Knew the fatigue of trouble and care; Saw life's fondest hopes dissolve in the air; Found that success I could never attain, And contentment simply a castle in Spain- "I took to the road, and you see me to-day Dirty and ragged, but blithe and gay, 139 KODAKS. Known to the world as a rascal and scamp, And doomed all my days to be a tramp. '^Sometimes I regret the step I took, And backward glance, with hungering look, To the time when I, a man among men. Gave up the game I played with them. *^Only for a moment do I stand and gaze At the wa^te and wreck of bygone days; They had their uses — maybe some good — When I, now a tramp, earned a livelihood. "I live in the present and have not a care — I wander at will, no matter where ; Bumming my food in the light of day. Sleeping at night in sweet-scented hay. "It fits all the chinks of my scraggy frame; Makes me forget that I'm aged and lame; And to hope that whenever I pass away, It shall be when asleep in the new mown hay.' uo GRAND OPERA. My philosophical friend was raised, with various other things, on a farm in "York" State, He is a trifle secretive about the time when he became ripe enough to market, but has occasion- ally hinted that on the auspicious occasion he would have blended Very harmoniously with a background of St. Patrick's day flags. However, if such were the case, it is simply a page of his personal history, and if he should happen to leave a million dollars behind him when he boards Charon's ferry boat his biographers will attend to recording the details at so much a rec- ord. He is very fond of an opera, especially what is termed grand opera, and when the sea- son is at hand can be found in the front row with the rest of the baldheads. I gently intimated that the chorus girls were visually quite attrac- tive, and it was certainly pleasant to have their 141 KODAKS. I)right smiles haunt him still. He shook his head and said : "Guess again. No; come to think of it, you needn't either, for you couldn't guess in a week the whys and wherefores of my liking for opera. You see, it is this way : I've paddled my canoe on many a river and creek, have shot some rapids, and once or twice have been out of sight of land on the briny. I've observed a batch of things, real or otherwise, on these excursions, but away down deep in my heart is a memory of the old farm. It wasn't any different from the old farms most of you fellows knew in your youth, but it was my own particular old farm, and I remember it so well that I can shut my eyes, see the corn field, hear the wind rustling through the leaves, see the pumpkin vines crawl- ing everywhere like serpents, and what bully whistles you could make of the stems to the leaves, provided you rubbed ofif the fuzz so it wouldn't nettle your lips. "Of course, there's another side to that corn field story — the one when, with about six inches of snow on the ground, I walked behind the wa- gon and husked the down row, but that don't count in this narrative. Then there was a field @f wheat and one of rye, another of red-top and U2 KODAKS. clover, and, what was best of all, the medder (as my respected granddad called it), where there was a grove and wild crabapples and grapes and elderberries, for popguns, and poison ivy for grief; tree moss, for all the world like a minia- ture forest; and in the spring, wild flowers, such as Jack-in-the-pulpit, Dutchmen's breeches and others with names not so striking; a brook that went dry in the summer and was a torrent in the spring; an old chain pump, which came over with Noah, and a water trough that seemed to be as large as an Erie canal boat when I had to pump it full of water. Every once in a while the handle slipped off, hitting me on the ear, just to remind me that I wasn't paying attention to business. "Then there were tall poplars, where it was my duty and pleasure to carve my name; also that of a spindle-shanked, freckle-faced, ging- ham-sunbonneted little torment who lived on an adjoining farm. But excuse me, I wander. What I intended to speak about was the chick- ens. At that time I didn't consider it much of an honor to act as head waiter for a mixed as- semblage of barnyard fowls, and don't know as I do yet, for all the time I was feeding them I'd be thinking of a big pickerel I saw under the 143 KODAIKS. ice breaker down at the bridge, or of a chipmunk I was going to drown out whenever I got a chance, or wondering if I could chew up more green gooseberries without making a face than a Dutch boy who Hved across the road. "All such things would be running in my head while I was watching the perform- ances of those chickens, and now when I go to the opera I just imagine that the leader, as he picks up his baton and gives it a preliminary wave in the air, is saying, 'Chick, chick, chick; come chick,' and the violins, the cello, the piano and all the other instruments are the patter, swish and rustle of wings, as chicks, large and small, chicks squatty and tall, come scurrying from all directions to the center of the barnyard or stage. A big Shanghai rooster is the central figure. He struts up and down, pausing before a grain of corn, directing the attention of a Dominicker hen to the kernel, evidently inviting her to partake, at the last moment gobbling it up himself. He is the basso, who thumps around the stage and declares himself, in tones so all may hear, to be lord of all creation and a few other countries. The Dominicker hen is the 'female woman' he is ordering to go tell her mis- tress that if she don't get a move on herself— 144 KODAIKS. come at once and fall on his bosom — he'll kick: her bodyguard over into the next county and hang his rival to the first gas lamp he discovers.. Then a black Spanish rooster comes saunter- ing along, not making much noise, but gather- ing in any grains that lie in his pathway, until! he bumps up against Mr. Shanghai accidentally and is instantly called to account. This black: Spanish is a pretty bird and is the recipient of: many admiring glances from a bevy of Buff" Cochin hens. That's the tenor. He warbles so^ sweetly that Shanghai concludes it wouldn't do> to assassinate him on the spot, so he gives himi a show for his life, which he improves by hiding; behind the Buff Cochin hens, or chorus girls... These are brought to attention by a game roos- ter, who comes meandering along in a don't- care sort of a way, his head bobbing back and: forth, his spurs glistening, and an altogether de- liciously villainous look in his eye. He is the hero of the narrative, who has arrived from parts, unknown; who knows a Shanghai at a glance,, and a few other things. His rich baritone makes. the ceiling rattle, and the Buff Cochins, or rather chorus girls, catch on to the spirit of ther thing as he describes the splendors of a feast off grub worms in a tomato patch and promises t& KODAKS. -show them the way. About this thne a silver- spangled Hamburg comes trotting up to the traveler, and, with numerous clucks, signifies her approval, after which she marches off by the side of his highness, the Bufif Cochins and black Spanish forming a bodyguard, the Plymouth Rocks and Leghorns following, with Mr. Shang- ihai glad to follow in the rear. "Now, if that isn't your hero and heroine of opera, Avith their retinue of retainers, the honest villagers, glad to sit around and holler and drink ibeer or brown ale whenever the occasion offers, and the bull-dozing tyrant, who always gets it -in the neck, who asks for everything and takes anything, why, I've been doing the philosophi- cal act all these years in vain. But, as I was about to say, the reason I like grand opera is be- cause it reminds me of chickens in a barnyard, not so much because the singers look like chick- ens, but because they act like them; they remind me of my early days, when I was head waiter, -chef and general utility man to a flock of them. "And being reminded of them, reminds me of "the old oaken bucket, the striped chipmunks, ^vho escaped drowning only to be clubbed into the beautiful beyond ; the bumble bees, that often .stung me as I robbed them of their honey and U8 KODAKS. put it into cups made from acorn hulls, and many other things that made life on a farm 'down East' interesting, including the spindle-shanked, freck- le-faced, gingham-sunbonneted girl, whose name I carved at the very top of every poplar tree on the place." 147 AN EVER PRESENT SHOW. Did you ever watch two lovers, iVnd jot down the many ways They make vows of pure affection To last for countless days? Very much like pigs in clover, Are their notions vague of life. For they munch the fragrant blossoms Without thought of coming strife. Or of any of those failings That are classed as mortal ills — Sure to crop out in the future, Mixed up with a batch of bills. Kisses sweet as rose of Sharon, From each other's lips they sip. While they vow that life will ever Be a sweet sunshiny trip. They, of course, have heard of people. Who by mating made an error, 148 KODAKS. But their bland faith in each other Robs the future of such terror ; Builds a cottage on the hillside, Where birds sing and flowers bloom, Where coal grows in chilly winter And sweet outing gowns in June ; Where the grocer and the baker Leave their wares and never say : 'Pay your bill, or, by the holies I'll not come another day." Where the doctor, with his pill box. Or a nurse of ample girth, Never, never'll chance to visit. For of sickness there'll be dearth. Never will the chills and fever Knock upon the cottage door, And when it comes to dimpled cherubs- Not to have them they have swore. By and by they join their fortunes. Then ensues a wedding trip, And the wealth of osculation Is enough to sink a ship. They arrive back home quite happy, And begin to hoe the row That is looked on with suspicion By bald-headed men I know, Who maintain the row grows longer, KODAKS. And the strain of life intense. That there's naught but close acquaintance^ Will reveal a lack of sense ; That a woman is a creature Far too fair to ever wed, And a man a soulless villain — Never good till he is dead. LIFE'S DAY. A day, with its changes of light arM shade, Is Hke the Hfe of man or maid — The morning so sweet and calm and pure — Like the little child that must live and endure. The midday, when nature seems to rest, Like the middle of life when on the crest Of a wave of power or mount of woe. The mortal gazes on valley below — Back on the road o'er which he came, That may be spread with flowers of fame, But oftentimes 'tis a path of thorns, Marking a struggle since he was born. Forward is the road he now must go, Stretching away toward the sunset glow, 161 KODAKS. And he thinks as he starts the downward grade Of a peaceful rest in the everglade. The evening has come and the sun has sank, Like man must sink, no matter what rank, The shadows gathering to solemn gloom. Wrap their sombre mantle around his tomb. tSi A LIBEL A San Francisco paper printed what purport- ed to be the latest photograph of Prince Bis- marck. According to the pose the artist must have induced him to try and look at something about four years back without turning around to do so. Imagine, if you can, the iron chancel- lor, whose commands have swayed the world, posing for a picture in a position adapted to a soubrette winking at gallery gods. Just think of that old soldier, who had more dignity than all the crowned heads lumped together, affect- ing the position of a sixteen-year-old school girl, who would like distant relatives to believe she was just as roguish and vivacious as possi- ble, and wore her head on one side like a meadow lark on a rail fence, watching a boy with a gun. Maybe the photo is bona fide, but I doubt it, and hope to never have the doubt removed, for Bismarck, with his fifty years of continuous serv- 138 KODAKS. ice to his country, is a man to be classed, witk Washington and Lincoln, and it is not likely that in his eightieth year he would turn giddy and let an artist pose him in such manner as to suggest a crooked-necked squash. lU. A VAGARY. One day a fancy, strong of limb and girth, Seized and 'neath a fountain plunged me — ■ A fountain filled with wild creations, fraught With menace, that to frailties would a curse be. As fantasies, so wild with angry pleadiAg, Foamed o'er a wraith of discontent, The creature held within their grasp Was prone to raise his voice in wild lament, What is the world, with all its tenantry, That gifts of nature have disused ; Who temples build in wilderness of sin To mock God's creatures whom they have abused? KODAKS. What is the sun that Hghts and warms the world, Yea, gilds with glorious presence all the land? Some think 'tis but the sire of furies, That seek to fetter us with endless bands. What are the hopes, that m a shifting brainj Try ever to escape their bounds, To leap into the spectral future far. Yet feel the scourge of ever-present hounds? What are the loves that burn within the heart, To sear it with an all-consuming fire? While ever on the merry music rings. Picked from the strings of weird, seductive lyre. What is the end that waits for all who come, Who enter in the lists of love and strife? Ask ye the fountain, as it bubbles on. To tell to you the secret of this life. This life, who says 'tis all we have to live? Is this the goal of love and hate and pride? Is this the end of all the joy and pain; No soul to triumph when the clay has died? 156 ORIGIN OF A MINISTER. The voices from the pulpit are heard far and near and the supposition to be drawn from some minister's remarks is that expounders of the gospel were first created and their stock in trade, man and his follies, were an after consideration. If we assume the theory of creation to be cor- rect it is proof positive that the minister was the after consideration, and while he may have been a piece of God's handiwork, he may also have been a natural result. That is, the feelings that permeate the mind of most men to in some way be a director of the balance of the universe may have budded in the mind of some of our ancestors and when the bud blossomed the result was a minister. This may be wrong, and without doubt a great many arguments could be brought forward to prove the statement to be incorrect. Still an argument, be it ever so good, is not necessarily a fact; it is a theory. A minister is a fact. You cannot make a tangible object out of a theory. Therefore it stands to reason that you cannot make a minister out of an argument 1.57 A BACK NUMBER DUDE. He has a few peculiarities Besides the ones I'll mention, But only those that show the most 111 call to your attention. Sometimes he is a widower, With just an only child ; Sometimes he is an ancient duck, Still thinking that he's wild. Sometimes he is a minister. Who likes a little fun; Sometimes he is a worthless cuss, And nothing but a bum. Ill one way they are all alike, In others they may vary; Each thinks himself a special prize For some sweet damsel wary. 158 KODAKS. No matter if his face is red, And features that's termed homely, With bandy legs, plus pigeon toes, And form that's far from comely — He'll dance attendance on the girls At any day or hour ; Blow in his cash in manner rash, Until the sweet things sour — Or shake him for a younger chap — A man about the town — Whose whiskers do not gently shade From black to dirty brown. If you should meet one of that kind. In sunshine or in rain, You'll find he's wearing a disguise, Or else girl on the brain. For no one but an ancient rake — One of those would-be friskers— Was ever known to think it helped His looks to dye his whiskers. m ENVIRONMENT. Tolstoi comments on the lack of happiness a banker finds shaving notes and claims a janitor's comfort to be far in excess of the banker's. He should have continued and said that a man is happy according to his own idea of himself. The man who by force of circumstances is a banker will be wonderfully happy unless he labors un- der the delusion that he would prefer being a railroad magnate and happen to be short some of the capital. A janitor will be a trifle happier than a banker unless he thinks he would prefer being a policeman and lacks the pull. The question of a man's happiness depends entirely on self knowledge that he is filling the niche he should fill, with determination and enough self respect to prevent retrograding and desire, not a betterment of the existing order of things, but rather a continuance of present bless- 160 • KODAKS. ings. Whenever a man accumulates a hankering; to be that which he is not his troubles begin and magnify in intensity as long as the privilege of breath is granted him. Lengthening his span of years and granting him a fulfillment of his de- sire would not soothe him, for the habit once ac- quired is as difficult to shake as it is for a minis- ter to mix politics with religion and not make sa. mess of both. INDEPENDENCE DAY. *Over the sun-kissed Occident Flashes a paean of joy and praise, Tribute to those who in the past, Shattered the fetters that made them slaves. Cast off the yoke that bowed them down To whim and fancy of a royal crown; -Made all men equal and free to pursue A search for happiness, pure and true. I Proclaimed themselves and their country dear. In a way so all the world should hear, -As a home for those by monarchs oppressed. Who longed for a haven of refuge and rest. ItVise in the council that prompted the move, Brave in their deeds of daring and love, 162 KODAKS. Steadfast in forcing the cause to an end — They gave their heart's blood to protect and defend. When in the end they grand freedom attained, They wasted no time o'er the victory gained, But turned from the sword to the ploughshare and pen, To develop the resources God granted them — Resource of continent, bounded by ocean, Swept by the breath of life-giving breeze; Saved from the world, apart from all nations, For people to live and do as they please. Destiny marked the path o'er the ocean That led to this mecca of unbounded wealth; Watched o'er the Pilgrims in pious devotion, And sheltered them from the wild savages' stealth. Gave to their frames the strength of endurance,^ Gave to their minds the courage to brave The terrors of war, its ills and hardships, To cast from their ankles the shackles of slaves. 163 KODAKS. Look ye the length and breadth of the nation, Over the boundless valley and plain, Carpeted with grasses, silvered by rivers Flowing from font in the mountain ravine. Mountains that seem like sentinels, guarding The wealth that is spread over vista between, Crowned as they are by that symbol of virtue. Snow of the heavens, pure and serene ; Mountain slopes covered with expanse of forest. Ribbed by canyons where cooling springs gleam, Veined with white quartz, in minerals abounding. Waiting for hand of mortal to glean. Harbors that naught in the world can compare with, Sheltered by cliffs from the wide main. Easy of access by broad and deep channels. Egress of rivers that traverse the plain. Great inland lakes, as large as the monarchy That sought in the past to rule our domain. Are simply a dot on the face of this country, That's ringing with praise for freedom at- tained. 164 KODAKS. Picturesque canyons, torn in the mountains, Tell of the struggle when volcanoes stormed Ages ago, when they reared the structures That now, clothed with life, show beauteous form. Bright plumaged songsters ring their glad carols, In the green glades, where the sweet flowers bloom, Bringing to mortals a gleam of contentment — Scenting the air with dainty perfume. Men of all nations are gathered around us, Sharing the fruits of the land and the sea, Inhaling the breath of personal freedom — Thinking and acting their own decree ; Worshipping God as their fathers before them Thought was the way to heavenly joy; Poinding the motto of nil desperandum, In a fulfillment without alloy. Ever shall this nation stand out in relief, As taking firm stand in freedom's belief; Knowing no master, having no slave. Land of the free and home of the brave. 165 KODAKS. Ever shall our emblem, the star-spangled banner,. Wave to the breeze, commanding respect; Ever shall we, in memory and manner, Give honor to those who gave life to protect. 166 IF THE SHOE FITS. WEAR ST. It was a cosy sitting room, that ordinarily would cheer the eye and bring a feeHng of peace and contentment, but on this occasion large chunks of gloom were visible to the naked eye. The lady of the house was the masterpiece of despair, while her devoted husband and a few sympathetic friends were lesser lights of calam- ity, who endeavored with kindly words of hope and a handkerchief to check the tears that welled from her large red eyes. But their labor was all in vain. She moaned, groaned, wept, shrieked and called for Johnnie. "Johnnie, oh, Johnnie, my darling! I know that you are dead. Why, oh why, did I talk cross to you this morning? Let me go, I say; I'm going to find him. Mamma's darling baby ; he's at the bottom of the river; I know he is. Dear little fellow; always so kind. Oh God, whv have you taken my boy?" "Cheer up, madam; your son may show up soon. There is no need of your worrying until KODAKS. you have reason to believe that misfortune has overtaken him." "Don't raise a false hope in my bosom. I "will never again see his ruddy face, his bright «yes, his mischievous smile ; and I misjudged my darling so often. If he only had his little, life to live over again what would I not do for liim? They'll be bringing my treasure home all wet and cold ; cold in the chill of death." The unhappy, sorrowing woman buried her liead on the sofa cushions in a wild paroxysm of .grief. There was not a dry eye in the room. Every heart ached with sorrow for the poor mother, as they tried in vain to comfort her. Bang went the front door. Clump, clump, came a pair of sturdy feet through the hall, and above it all sounded a shrill whistle, wrestling with the intricacies of "Ma Angeline." A ten- year-old boy, carrying a puppy by the scruff of the neck v/ith one hand and a baseball bat in the other, entered the room. "Hello! What's the row? Say, ma, see my dawg; what d'yer think of him? Aint he a bird? Dog catcher gave 'im to me; said I could keep him if I wanted ter, and I guess yes, I want." The sorrowing mother had arisen from the sofa. She stared at her offspring for a few sec- ies KODAKS. onds until the floodgates of her word mill could. be turned loose, and then she swooped down oa him. "Johnnie Jones, where have you been?'' "Nowheres much." "Don't you dare to say nowheres to me. I've worried my life out about you, thinking you were drowned or lost or something awful. Come here this instant. Take that (cufif) and that (cufif and more cufifs in rapid succession until the hopeful had a genuine case of grief). You scare me again, will you? You little scamp, I've a good mind to thrash you within an inch of your life. You go to bed now without your supper. I'll teach you ! You ungrateful little wretch." The friends took their departure and all ex- pressed their delight that Johnnie was alive and well; and Mrs. Jones, she was glad, too, and said so, and thanked them over and over again for their aid and sympathy. Then she returned to her novel and her husband and thanked God and herself that her darling was safe, while up- stairs in his little bed the boy was sobbing with grief and pain, and thinking over and over again: "The man gave me the nice puppy and I played with him and just forgot that I ought to go home." 169 DADDY'S HOME. When the sun at eve is setting, And the bees have ceased their drone. Babies gather at the gateway To greet daddy, coming home ; Joyous, merry little faces. Close against the pickets pressed — They are longing for the footsteps Of the man that they love best. All day long he has been toiling, And he's weary, every bone, But his task seems light and easy At the thought of going home ; Going home to wife and babies — Who wouldn't toil, such bliss to own? And there's naught but peace and comfort In the thought of going home. 170 KODAKS. There he comes. Out on the sidewalk Dash the babes, with laugh and shout All of them want to be carried — Daddy is so big and stout. So he folds his arms around them, Carries them up into the home, And the wife's sweet face beside thena Fills the picture — Daddy's home. 171 EGOTISM. About the most amusing thing on earth is the effect of the sectarian paper or the poHtical pa- per in a household that champions the cause espoused in the journal and would not have the corrupting organ of the opposition on the prem- ises, let alone peruse it. Supreme with the ad- vocate of the idol of their dogmas that waves in- cense toward an uncrowned king, their imagina- tion dances vividly to the tune of the offerings in print and their memory retains the telling points founded upon the theoretical creations of a theorist, which they propound in a most sol- emn manner as the ultimate result of what to than is the reasoning of a superior intellect that can and will accomplish wonderful and pre- sumptuous phenomenon. Life is all too brief to correct these individuals of their too compact- ness of idea, and the suggestion of a wedge of 172 KODAKS. knowledge in the shape of the literature of their supposed enemy, that is in reality the guardiaa that enables them to retain their tenure on the fruits of existence, would be treated with scorn as an emanation of ignorance from the brain ©f a scoffer, and the suggestor would be warned ol the pitfalls in his spiritual or political path as outlined by he of the one principle, one road, one gate, controlled and operated by the iroa hand of fate. 178 WHILE IT RAINS. The goose comes in on the northwest gale. While it rains, it rains, it rains; The nimrod now tells remarkable tales, While it rains, it rains, it rains. The tramp now is mourning and oftimes repents, While it rains, it rains, it rains — Of hard-earned dollars he cheerfully spent — While it rains, it rains, it rains. The hayseed is gearing his old gang plow, While it rains, it rains, it rains ; And thinking that work now begins "by swow," . While it rains, it rains, it rains. The predictor of weather is happy, I know, While it rains, it rains, it rains — To think that this time his word was a go, For it rains, it rains, it rains. 17 EVOLUTION. March seventeenth is the day set apart by those who were fortunate enough to get away from Ireland to celebrate the event. This is not quite as important a day as the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, but ranks close enough to inspire young America with the idea that Ireland is a country filled with good cheer, harps and sentiment — principally sentiment. An Irishman has more sentiment to the square inch than any other known being. It is of the variegated breed and always adapts itself to climatic conditions, being able to blow cold or hot, as the occasion requires. It is this peculiar adaptability that has done so much to shatter faith in the genuineness of the tears that are said to never dry up in an Irishman, for investigation has proven quite often that his old Irish home was a place of misery and hardship, and he bears 175 KODAKS. the separation from it with wonderful fortitude when it is taken into consideration the small amount of money it would require to carry him back there. The truth of the matter is that it will take about a thousand years of American freedom to teach him the proper way to appre- ciate the benefits accruing from a Republican form of government, but there is a lurking fear that long before the thousand years are up the government of this Republic will be entirely Irish and a lovely chance to watch the intricate process of evolution will be lost. 176 HIS HONOR. (With apologies to Longfellow.) Beside a country turnpike, The Fair Oaks' Courthouse stands; The judge, a mighty man is he. His height is fifteen hands. And the muscles of his honor's jaw Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp and black and short. His face sometimes is tanned ; His brow with sweat is often wet. He earns just all he can, As he looks a culprit in the face To see how much he'll pan. Week in, week out, when duty calls. You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy tread, 177 KODA/KS. With measured tread and slow, As he drifts out to his grist mill To start his morning show. -And children, going down town to school, Look in at the open door; They love to see the massive judge And hear his honor roar. And catch the melody of his voice That leaks out through the door. He goes on Sunday for a stroll, And meets some of the boys ; He hears them spin the latest yarns. They hear his mellow voice O'er-topping their stories just one notch, And it makes their hearts rejoice. Listening, meditating, sentencing — Onward through life he goes; !Each morning sees some case begun. Each evening sees it close; 3^or the judge must keep his docket clean. Though he thrives by others' woes. 178 KODAKS. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worth}' friend. For the lessons thou hast taught. To those who in your justice shop Against their will were brought. To explain unto your honor, Why mischief they had wrought. 179 HONESTY. "Pa, what is honesty?" "Honesty, my son, is a noble qualification that prevents a man from defrauding or in any way injuring his fellow men." "Is it used much, pa?" "Yes, my son; it is almost used up." "Where do you think I could find some, pa?'* "About as good a place as I know of is a ceme- tery." "But aren't people gone forever that are in a cemetery?" "Yes, my son; but the virtues and honesty still remain — on their tombstones. When you get a little older you can take a market basket and go out and pick some." ONE OF MANY. Did you ever meet the man who has peculiari- ties and is aware of the fact? He will tell you with a kind of aren't-you-surprised-sort-of-look on his face, "I only eat three meals a day. Just think of it ! And really I go to bed every night and actually breathe right along all the time, too ; and, for a fact, sir, I never read editorials. Oh, I know it startles you, but you mustn't mind me. I'm peculiar about some things, I am." 181 SUNSET ON DIABLO. Diablo, mount with satanic name, Towering like sentinel across the fertile plain, Dazzles with splendor from the crimson light. Shed by Old Sol, while fading from our sight. As shining day turns to the solemn night, A beauteous scene is shed by fading light; A crimson flood bathes mountain top in flame, Reflects its silhouette across the plain. A vagrant cloud, now hanging o'er the crest. Turns from gray vapor to a jeweled nest, Fit for the goddess of eternal love. Could she be tempted from her home above. The shadows gather on mountain and on plain, A cooling breath is wafted from the main; The silvered river onward gently flows, While in the heavens shines the after glow. Shading from crimson to a dainty pink. The dying sunbeams slowly fade and sink; The stars gleam brightly in the azure sky — Another day has gone and said goodbye. 182 A DOUBLE SHUFFLE. A young couple in San Francisco braved paternal wrath, were married and ten hours later they were cold in death from self-inflicted wounds. Funerals are expensive, and generally speaking, undesirable afifairs, but if the burden of a decent burial is not too heavy for the near and dear relatives to discharge the obligation, without hardship, the action of the young people may be considered as commendable, for they de- parted this life in a rainbow-hued state of mind that can only be equalled by a parallel case. They wanted each other and the desire was accen- tuated by parental interference. They got each other and spited the old folks. Wrapped in each others arms they concluded to bid farewell to the cruel world and spend the years of eternity in the realms of paradise, and probably are now gamboling on the golden streets and cracking: 188 KODA;KS. castanets and jokes with St. Peter about the ^way they "done" the old folks. It surprises me to know that young people, basking in the sun- shine of an overdose of thrills, should desire to shuffle of¥ at such an early stage of the game. If they had played an eight or ten years' engage- ment and taken a few youngsters through the category of infantile maladies and should be brought to a realization that the end was not yet, a tragedic finale would be considered a profitable swap for probable calamities. But the deed is done and one couple, at least, are spared the mortification of finding out, sooner or later, that neither is infallible, and both are mortal. 184 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SPINNING WHEEL I've spun many a mile of yarn, That's been woven into clothes, Worn by people now in glory — At least I will so suppose. Now I'm asked to spin a story. And I don't quite like the task, For I'm old and gray from spinning, But I'll spin this for the last. Observe my sturdy frame of oak. And see — of three legs I can boast; These mean the holy trinity Of Father, Son and Holy Ghost. My wheel, like time, has not an end, And band that runs around its rim; 18i KODAKS. Like life, is bound to snap in twain When age has worn it old and thin. Now, let me speak about my head. You see that it is lined with steel, And, like the crank of modern times, Within it runs a little wheel. My head of steel, my heart of oak. My wheel, that never knew an end. Have been in service all my life — I've always been a faithful friend. I've seen the roses fade from cheeks For many generations past ; Seen sorrow's cup drained to the dregs ; Seen happiness too great to last. To think of what I've seen and heard Unstrings me — makes me pause and reel. For after all, I'm nothing else But an old-fashioned spinning wheel. 186 HISTORIC SETTLERS. The year 1895 will be remembered long as the year in which so many aged citizens were report- ed as living in various portions of the country. Not wishing to be thought ignorant on the lo- cation and affidavit age of at least one of the old boys, I have made careful search in the country adjacent to Stockton and have discovered a man who remembers perfectly the time Columbus lo- cated Chicago and appointed George Washing- ton as consul of same, to hold in trust for Pull- man, W'ho would not be over until his yotmgest son, who was rather a delicate child, got through teething. One thing in particular that vividly impressed the scene on his mind was Chris joshing George about the propensity of the Americans of that period to baldheadedness, and George, standing up bravely for the climate and laving the blame on the inhabitants. 187 A MEMORY. Through the haze of recollection Comes the scent of clover bloom, Wafted from a grassy meadow In the pleasant days of June. And an old red house that nestled In a grove of maple trees — Seems as though I hear them waving In the perfume-laden breeze. And a lilac bush that shaded One end of the quaint old house, I can see the dewdrops sparkling On the blossom-laden boughs. Then those sweet old-fashioned flowers- Verbenas, tulips, geraniums, flox — 188 KODAKS. Growing in such wild profusion 'Round the borders of the walks. Bees are droning in the clover, And upon an old rail fence Is a little streaked chipmunk Scampering in his merriment. Birds are singing in the woodland, Where Jack-in-the-Pulpit blooms- Everything is joy and gladness In the pleasant days of June. 189 CURIOSITY. EHsha Gray, inventor of the teleautograph, asserts that "man is such an imperfect organism that it is difificult for him to comprehend even the simpler mysteries of nature." He also states that many things are happening all around him which he does not see or hear. I thoroughly concur with Lishe in all these statements, al- though our reasoning to arrive at the same con- elusion may vary a trifle. But what matters the method as long as the result is the same? How- ever, I go a trifle further than Elisha and say, Why should man fathom the mysteries of nature? Man, in his natural state, is an animal, with ani- mal instincts, and man, in his educated state, retains these instincts, which are the gratification of his five senses. If he is a barbarian and has vices extraordinary, his fellow-barbarians kill him; if he is civilized and has vices, they are 190 KODAKS. glossed over by the polish of education, and he is not only tolerated but courted. A brain that could retain a knowledge of one per cent, of the sayings and doings of the world has never been cast, and if it should ever be cast, the owner' thereof could never hope to live long enough for the shifting scene to pass before him. Hence why should nature, that struggled along for countless centuries without the aid of man, be asked to yield her secrets to his vulgar curiosity? If permitted to understand even an iota of nature's methods, he would attempt to remodel them according to his own ideas. Then why not abandon the idea and content himself with preying on his fellow-creatures, one upon the other, and reserving nature for a playground — a something to be admired and enjoyed, but hot to be pried into, for many a casket supposed to hold priceless treasures has, when broken into, been found to contain nothing but a skeleton? Elisha's remark about not seeing and hearing a great many ch'ings that are around him is very true. Think of a man trying to cross a street with a cable-car coming from each direction, a half dozen wagons jogging along at dififerent speeds, ii Salvation Army band playing on the corner, and a few other rackets, endeavoring to see and 191 KODAKS. hear all that was going on. Yes, and think of one who would want to see and hear it all. If you know of such a one, buy and send him to Lishe, to practice on, thereby endearing yourself to Elisha ; also endearing yourself to the individual's neighbors, who certainly should be pleased to be rid of a man having a patent right on so much curiosity. 19S, A MOOD. When winds of winter whistle round the eaves, While raindrops splash against the window panes, Who does not not love to sit by cosy fire. With fancy running riot with loose reins? The panorama of the world is shown to view — The forms of all the continents of earth, With waves of ocean frothing at their sides, And sparkling rivers that entwine their girth. Great caps of snow in land of midnight sun. Streaked with reflections of Borealis' gleam. Where squatty Esquimaux, in huts of ice, Are happy with their own cold storage scheme. 193 KODAKS. Xand of the tropics, where the orb of day Beats down with sensuous and torrid glare On jungles, where the vegetation rank For beast and serpent forms a welcome lair. Islands of all nations, dotted here and there, Cropping from out the mass of billowing blue Xike specks — or, rather, any hills of the sea — Each showing some new phase or hue. Between the great extremes of heat and cold. In setting of the stage of real life, ■Some sections teeming with the fruits of peace And others struggling with want and strife. This is the spot where longest fancy lingers ; For here are puppets that the mind can call Who for a time have place in public note Ere wealth or wisdom totters and they fall. Xach city, reeking with its load of life, Who tread their way beneath its lofty spires, •Comes for an instant to the eye of mind Their views, their hopes, and still unfilled desires. KODAKS. The ocean steamers battling" with storm-tossed sea, The railroad tracks like cobwebs o'er the land. With birds of passage flitting here and there. Whose lives are in the hollow of God's hand. Brought closely to the eye, the scene reveals Each mortal struggling for self alone — No matter what the color, garb or calling. Without respect to any rule or zone. This is the world, and this is life, Viewed at a glance in retrospective mood. If any doubt they toil for self alone 'Tis self alone they have misunderstood. 195 A MELODY OF LONG AGO. There's a dear old peal of melody ^ Still ringing in my ears, Though time has rolled into the past More than a score of years. The strain brings back to memory A wide, clear, rippling stream; On its grassy bank I loved to lay And watch the clouds and dream. Great masses of white went sailing by O'er the canopy of azure hue. Jostling together, then drifting apart. Like leaving old friends for new. The air was scented with dainty perfume From wild flowers in shady dell, While borne on the breath of a summer breeze Was the sound of the village bells. 196 KODAKS. Clanging away in the distant spires, Large ones and small ones and all, The rich, the poor, the outcast and beggar To the worship of God they call. But distance softened the brazen clang, And when it had reached my ears An anthem of praise was graven therein That has lasted all these years. I've heard the hymns of eternal praise, With accompaniment of organ grand; Have heard the airs of our nation free Rendered by world-wide famous band — Have listened to singers of great renown, When tears to my eyes would well — But sweeter by far was the summer morn, With the chime of the village bells. 197 PHILOSOPHY. The "Nothing-too-tough-to-tackle" Debating- Society at their last session wrestled with the question, "Is a philosopher a necessary evil?" No verdict was reached, as most of the members claimed to lack knowledge of the requisites for a full-fledged philosopher of the modern era. Those who had the affirmative side had compiled their informaton from the life of Socrates and a few of those pioneers who persisted that a wagon wheel could travel on smooth ground as well as in a rut, and were ruled out of order as being a long way behind the times. The sustainers of the negative theory were willing to admit that a gen- uine, simon-pure philosopher would be a handy thing to have in the comrnunity, but asserted that there hadn't been but one born during the last century; that he was apprenticed to a clergyman and expired in convulsions when he discovered the actual limit of his philosophications. Mr. Talkary, in the course of his remarks, said : "The trouble with the average philosopher 198 KODAKS. of this era is that he possesses peculiarities and insists on certain regularities of habit that are not compatible with philosophy. It is no trick at all for a well-fed, well-clothed man to specify a plan whereby men and women could be com- fortable and happy. He has a supreme contempt for the sentimental idiosyncrasies of humanity in general; sometimes because he does not pos- sess a spot in his heart and soul that is suscepti- ble to color, but more often because he has a surfeit of pleasures. Age is a great promoter of philosophy, so it is not proper for a man to claim as a virtue something that is simply a non-desire. Your true philosopher is the one who, with his belly sticking to his back from lack of food, his shoulder-blades and knees cropping out of tat- tered garments, whose vitality is sapped by dis- ease and whose heart is aching for just a few loving words of comfort, stretches out his hands and tells his hearers that while life seems to be a troubled sea it is in reality a haven of beauteous rest; that if happiness were placed in one scale and sorrow in the other there could be no doubt of happiness being the dominating force. That is philosophy, and an expounder of such philos- ophy would leave a name to be remembered long, and a lesson that would be remembered not at all." 199 POMPOSITY'S SOLILOQUY IN THE GRAVEYARD. An old-time friend of Pomposity's went the way of all flesh, and a mutual friend asked him if he was going to attend the funeral, "No, sir; not much. I will not go to a funeral. It's bad enough for me to know that some time I have got to go to my own, and I don't want to be reminded of it and made blue by uncanny thoughts of the tomb, let alone the possible evils of futurity. And there's another thing, too. I can't go out to the cemetery without getting mad — madder than blazes. I walk through the city of the dead and see a nice tombstone over a man who owed me seven hundred dollars. Over there a monument — the son-of-a-gun under it skipped out for the hereafter and I held his paper for two thousand, Down yonder a vault; the marble clay that re- poses within left me mourning to the tune of thirty-five hundred; and so on. I think I've got 300 about thirty or forty thousand dollars reposing- under the daisies, and I tell you what, I'm not going to arouse my ire so that it will compel mc to journey into the next world to try and collect tkat money." an THE LANE OF LIFE. Canto the First. A babe, first seeing light of day. Makes lusty clamor at the sight and scene — Mourns till cradled in a mother's arms, When clothed and nursed it slumbers all se- rene. No will of self did ever give it birth. 'Twas but a turn of fortune's wheel That gave it life and lungs and hunger And dormant passion it must sometime feel. From swaddling clothes and crawling on the floor It reaches kilts and a desire to walk. Finding encouragement in these old arts, Soon it has learned to pout and talk. 202 KODAKS. A kindergarten gives the rudiments, When kilts are changed for knickers, and the joy ■ , Is seen displayed in the new garb — The baby now has grown to be a boy. A boy who goes to school and everywhere That every other boy has gone before ; Who learns to whistle, dance and swear — Who never has too much to ask for more. He fancies baseball, boating, guns. Of course, he has to have a bike. And almost every game that's known He has a penchant for and likes. His boyish troubles vanish like the mist That hovers o'er the meadow in the morn,-^^ He may be angry, but he cannot make it last No more than he could help his being born. From school to college. The momentous step Changes the tenor of his heart and frame ; He longs for knowledge and for power : ^^ ' Upon the scroll of fame to carve his'-nanne. 203 KODAKS. Sonae damsel fair now mingles with his dreams — A creature whom he loves and longs to wed — She worries him throughout the livelong day ; AH other thoughts are driven from his head. S^e must be his. He'd roam the world To lay its treasures at her feet, 0nly his bright collegiate course Lacks some two years of being quite complete. These are the days when lagging time Is thorn that pierces deep his side, Though he will learn ere many years How fast the days can by him glide. Those college days, those golden hours, When he has thought the road so wide, With friends drawn up in double tiers To do him honor as a nation's pride — They pass away and seem a dream, When looking backward he has read The funeral of his hopes and loves And of the girl he didn't wed. He carves his way like other men In some allotted walk of life, . 2 + . KODAK*. Where business ventures cool his blood By keeping him in constant strife. He's found another girl who fits A place within his heart and soul — Who spurs him on to brilliant deeds, Helps him to win his fame and goal. TJhus he has blindly paved the way For sorrow that must come to all Who make an idol of the clay That must make answer when tl^e Master ca^ He's gathered cares that haunt and jeer Or grimace while his feet they trip; That gloat with joy when some loved cup Slips from his grasp when almost to his lip. He's past his prime. The downward path That leads, as all roads lead — to death- Lies straight ahead. He cannot swerve, Nor can he. call one wasted breath. He sees his hopes fade one by one. Though here and there a flashing ray Just for a moment lights his path, f And seems the Ruler's hand to stay, iM KODAKS. The struggles o'er, he knows the worst — Knows that his work on earth is done ; Learns that the time has come to die When love of life has just begun. Could he but start in life anew, With knowledge gained and stored away, What power he'd have to beck and call To hold the world and make it sway. Such strange, wild longings fill his heart, That from his fate he fain would flee, But, failing there, turns to the One Who gave him life with its decree. Darker and darker grow the days, The pride to rule or ruin wanes, Tiii kindly spirits calm his woes And soothe the rancor in his veins. The calm of peace steals o'er his brow ; His wrinkled hands have idle grown- Never again will passion thrill. For God has called his spirit home. 206. KODAKS. Canto the Second. The power that rules this universe, That placed man in His image here, Has method, born of judgment rare. Which guides his step from cradle to the bier. He places follies where they'll tempt. Yet form a guard to point the way So none need falter at their task Or from the path be led astray. These guide-boards oft are lost to sight By man, who, hurrying to a goal. Forgets the light of love and day — Forgets he does not own his soul. A soul that's tortured, tempted, tried, In ways most hard to comprehend — Which knows its weakness all too well And many times will sway and bend. Some careful plan has come to naught; Courage has oozed from out his finger-tips ; Some cup of joy was dashed to earth When draught had all but passed his lips. i;ODAKS. What can he do? "Begin his life anew" Is what the looker-on would calmly say. Not counting what the loss has cost Or that the man, mayhap, has had his day. All have a day, and some have two or more — The hero royal never knows defeat; He'll trim his barque upon another course And, smiling, say, "The charm of life is sweet." He takes a pattern from the years that glide And finds a lesson in the shifting scene — The garb of spring, the summer's glow, The autumn harvest and the winter keen. No matter what one year has brought. Though it be scourged by pestilence and flame, A new one calmly takes its place. Leaving the old a simple page of fame. Pages of fame are sometimes pleasant tales Of those who rollicked on the crest of power — Those whom some stroke of fortune made The showy heroes of the passing hour. A ftew year is a scroll all pure and fair, Unmarred by deed of brain or brawa — at* KODAKS. A curtain rising like the sun, •■ Tinting the landscape with the rosy dawn. Showing a future all wide and unexplored, Waiting for man to scribe upon the page The deeds that proclaim for the hour The greatest hero and the greatest sage. More unknown heroes grace a silent tomb Than e'er found herald to proclaim their worth ; More unknown heroes walk the world to-day Than known ones hidden in the silent earth. Canto the Third. Grave Censor who proscribes the ways of life, From blade of grass to wisest of the seers, Has recourse oftentimes to subtle art To light a pathway or allay a fear. So guarded is the whispering voice. Almost unheard amongst the slumberinj;- bowers. That listener ensconced amidst the bloom Thinks 'tis a breeze but murmuring througfe the flowers. KODAKS. The rippling stream or mountain cataract That thunders through a dark ravine ZKnows naught of law, yea, has no care, So sparkles on with merry, joyous paean. Serene in ignorance of fate that waits Upon some dim and distant shore, "Where silvery rivers leaving wooded hills Are merged within the breakers' sullen roar. Yea, lost. Their life blood mingles with the tide ; Rolls in and out upon the yellow sands, Or mingles with some wayward current And strays to kiss the shores of other lands. Bright-hearted Sol, who warms the heart and soul, Peers down upon the ocean's foam, Plucks from the billow's emerald crest The shattered mist and claims it as his own. iong rays of light stream from the orb of fire, Spread like a fan of texture frail and fair; JBut each has set for it a task, And for the mist of ocean forms a stair, 210, KODAiKS. Upward they climb, beyond the mountam top, Until they halt and form heroic stand, As though they feared the Heavenly power And dared not lose the sight of sea and land. Each day adds to their banded strength. Until at last their sinew seems so strong. They scorn the hand of Sol who holds them there And Avonder they have owned him King so long. The fleecy mass, nursed by the wraith of hate, Changes to sombre, dismal hue; Grim mutterings drown all peaceful overtures, While flashing satire pierces through and through. At war with selves, they reck not of their path ; In wild confusion flee from unknown foe, Till scattered on the earth they lie, Once more to swell a streamlet's cheery flow. Again they sparkle in the light of day — Again they bubble through the leafy dells, Knowing new joy at seeing olden scenes, Hearing again the sound of wedding bells. 211 KODAKi. Sweet dreamy chimes, pealing soft and low. Telling that life begins anew, Leading again through lush of woodland, Until once more they reach the ocean blue. •M& INDEX. My America --- ---.-5, Ideality .-_- 7 Th« Gold Seekers - - . - . - - 9 Fat Jack and Slim Jim - - - - - - 14 WarTanted to Soothe a Disciple of Blackstone - 16 Hereditary Taste _-._-_- 18 Recrimination -------19 The Trend of Wealth ------ 20 California Dialect -------- 22 An Abused Professional ----- 24 Hankering --------26 He Was Never Satisfied - - - - - - 29 The Cipiiers - - 31 Fin de Siecle Matrimony ----- 32 The Silurian's Lament ----- 33 Behind the M^sk -------34 Selfishnesis -------- ;,5 Politeness --------- ^6 21S KO'DAKS. One Thing Done Well - - - - - - 37 A Celesitial Virtue - - _ - - - 39 Les Miserables __-._-- 4i Honor and Dishonor __---_ 43 Biercing - - -- - - - - 45 The Microbe of the Soul 47 Liar -.-_---_. 49 Still an. Bliigma ___---> 55 Respect Poverty — It Might Change - - - 57 An Old Story .-----_ 60 To Be a Sage Requires Old Age - - - 62 They Never Change ______ 64 Fancy Helps Many a Cause - - - - 67 Our Flag and Country ----- 74 A Modern Plague _-_.__ 78 Strike an Average - - - - - - 81 Ko Ping Ki Ti (Hatchet Mian) - - - . 83 Slim Jim's Lament ______ 84 The Penalty of Oid Age - - - - - 87 Pigeon Holes -------89 Nectar for Kings ______ 91 Time Only Has No End - - - , - - 95 Big Bug - - - - - - - - 96 Romance -_--__-_ 98 A Few Directions - - . - _ - 100 The Selfish Suns - -,.-._- 101 Maternal Love - - - - - - - 103 214 KODAKS. Jesf Nobody ----- _ - 1(>5- Cute, but Ttoublesome - — - - los The Soul -------- lOT Life --------- - 10» Poet and Philosopher - - - - - - 111 Made in Grod's Imag'e - - - - - 112 Misguided Energy ------ 115 Past and Present _--__-- iig. Wonderful --_-_--- 119 A Feminine Habit - - - - - - 12S Creation - - - - - -- - - 124 Just Life, That's All - - . ' - - - 125 Fate of the Soul - 128 Hope - - - - 131 Cleansing Fires ------- 138, To Whom It May Concern - - - - 135 Twilight -------- I06 Ante Slumber Soliloquies - - _ _ - 137 As Life Goes - - - - - - - - 138 A Tramp Philosopher ----- 139 Grand Opera . - * _ - - - 141 An Ever Present Show _ - - - - 14& Life's Day -------- 151 A Libel - - - 15S A Vagary - - - - - - -'- 155 Origin of a Minister .-__-- 157 A Back Number Dude _ - - _ _ 158. 2115 jEtnvironimeat .-_.--- igf IrwJependenc* Day ------ 162 If the Shoe Fita, Wear it - - - - - 167 Baddy's HomQ ----- - I7f Egotism - - - - -- - - 172 While It Raifl* ------- 17* Kvoiution -_--._-- 175 Hi« Honor - - 177 Honesty -------- ig© One of Maay -_--._- i8i -Sunset on Diablo ------ 182 A Double Shuffle 183 Autobiography of a Spinniag Wheel - - 185 Historic Settlers - 187 A Memory -------- 18S ■Curiosity _---__-- 190 A Mood --- 19S A Melody of Long Ago ----- 196 Philosophy -------- 198 Pomposity's Soliloquy in the G^raveyard - - 20© The Lane of Life - - - - - - - 2©2 ns Jan - 12 1901 ..f'BRARY ■>1 -A" J -^1 t^N'l^l •- '. .'^ \ '\ ^'*WI ^'■ -^ .E " *\ > > < t m"'- V i^^H f ' V. /• •:i Mri^l f^' ' '^^i s^ :>J ^^^^^1 ' , >-*v