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Here and There. 
 
 A Collection of Reprinted Pieces from the 
 
 Religious Herald 
 
 a7id Other Periodicals, 
 
 BY 
 
 Together with Unpublished Poemr 
 by the Same Atithor, 
 
 • — •:<^fe'' — ■ 
 
 S. BOYCE BRADY, 
 
 PRINTER, 
 
 iiK N. Eleventh Street, 
 Richmond, Va. 
 

TO 
 
 MY MOTHER 
 
 THESE LINES 
 
 ARE 
 
 AEFECTIOXATELY DEDICATED. 
 
Copyright 1892 
 J. R. Greenvvay. 
 
"^f^^^^^I^ , 
 
 mm mcD^HSEB. 
 
 ly mother! What a host of ineniories 
 dear 
 fe#^^» Those sacred words revive within my 
 
 heart, 
 While in my day-dreams oftentimes I hear 
 And see her, though we're half the world 
 apart. 
 
 O noble heart, what owe I not to thee 
 For all thy ceaseless love and tender care, 
 
 Thy godly precepts, watchful consta,ncy, 
 And mention of me in thine every praj^er ! 
 
 Y^; if from life's temjjtations, toils and 
 snares, 
 I struggle forth unhurt, the voice within 
 Whispers, "Thy mother saved thee by her 
 pra\^ers 
 Which plead with God to keep thy soul from 
 sin." 
 
8 A LIGHT IN DARKNESS. 
 
 Rich be th3^ guerdon for th3'^ well-spent life 
 When God the Master speaks this judgment 
 word 
 ''Well done, thou good and faithful! Noble 
 wnfe, 
 Devoted mother, rest now^ with thy Lord." 
 
 ^ %%(B%iW %m B^BKltJESS. 
 
 " ////u that conicth unto me I to ill in no wise cast out^ 
 
 '^a^-^ihen our path is dark and drear\% 
 
 Full of doubts and hurtful snares, 
 '^^^ When our hearts are sad and weary, 
 Then comes Satan unawares. 
 
 Tempting us to sinful pleasures. 
 Deeds of wrong and passions w41d. 
 
 Lest w^e should attain the treasures 
 Of a soul that's undefiled. 
 
 Do we flee the dread temptation 
 Of our w^ordly nature's fire. 
 
 Or fulfil the consummation 
 Of the Devil's heart's desire? 
 
 Sad, indeed ! Too oft we linger 
 On the brink of sin's abyss. 
 
 Heeding not the w^arning finger 
 Of the Son of Righteousness 
 
A LIGHT IN DARKNESS. 
 
 Pointing us the way to heaven, 
 Long and steep and hard to find ; 
 
 '' There eternal life is given, 
 Tarry not, nor look behind !'* 
 
 Through the gloomy night of sorrow, 
 Stumbling oft and falling down, 
 
 Toil we, hoping on the morrow 
 To receive the glonous crown. 
 
 We should never feel dejected 
 
 By our failures in the fight ; 
 God has never yet rejected 
 
 Those who struggle for the right. 
 
 Though we often sin and wander, 
 And are lost upon the way, 
 
 Still, the Shepherd grows but fonder 
 Of His sheep that go astray. 
 
 Never will His goodness leave us, 
 
 If we ask Him to forgive ; 
 Let not doubts or fears deceive us, 
 
 '* He that doth beHeve shall live.'* 
 
 '^ W/20soever comes," said Jesus, 
 ** I will in nowise cast out ;'* 
 
 And He whispers when He sees us 
 Holding back through fear or doubt, 
 
10 HOW TO BE HAPPY. 
 
 *' Though your sins have been as scarlet, 
 Yet shall they be white as snow ; 
 
 I can save the basest varlet 
 From the hell's eternal woe ; 
 
 ** Show me but the true repentance 
 Of a broken, contrite heart ; 
 
 Offer it for my acceptance. 
 And I will fulfil my part. 
 
 " In my loving arms I'll take you, 
 Shelter you upon my breast ; 
 
 Child, I never will forsake you, 
 Come, then, come to m.e and rest." 
 
 " Lei him that hath two coats give to him that hath tione.^'' 
 
 hen we see the cankering sorrow 
 That pervades this suifering, heedless 
 ^^* world, 
 
 Do we think that on the morrow 
 We, perhaps, may in its depths be hurled ? 
 
 Pause : consider : can we lessen 
 Somewhat of the woe we daily see ? 
 
 Can our kindness help to freshen 
 Faded lives, deep sunk in miser>^ ? 
 
PRAY GOD HELP ME. 11 
 
 Oh, how many deeds of kindness 
 Each of us can in his own way do ! 
 
 Let us not, in selfish blindness, 
 Fail to share our joj^s with others too. 
 
 Sympathy with those in trouble 
 Costs but little ; kindness lives alway ; 
 
 Say each night, and joy will double, 
 " 1 have done a kindly act to-day." 
 
 PB3il <S<©3a HSECP HtJ^.' 
 
 ear children, are you weary 
 Of striving for the good, 
 
 ^ Of fighting 'gainst your nature 
 And Satan's tempting brood ? 
 
 And do your hearts oft fail you, 
 And let your strength give way, 
 
 So that you halt and stumble. 
 And Satan gains the day ? 
 
 God knows your sore temptation, 
 He knows how hard you try, 
 
 He sees your every struggle 
 And hears your prayerful cry. 
 
 But let me tell the reason 
 Your strength is not so great ; 
 
12 THE SINNER. 
 
 The prayerful crj^ that God hears 
 Is uttered just too late ! 
 
 Don't wait till you have fallen 
 Before you make your prayer, 
 
 But when you feel temptation, 
 Then pray. God 's always there. 
 
 And He will surely hear you 
 And guide you with His hand, 
 
 And when He sees you falling 
 He'll help you firm to stand. 
 
 Four little Avords will save you 
 
 In many a trial sore, 
 Just these ones ''Pray God help mk," 
 
 Not after, but before. 
 
 ^msi B%m3X3m. 
 
 '■^ Unto 7vIiom I sivarc in niy wrath that they should not 
 enter into my rest.'''' 
 
 Jfiis heart had been filled with the pleasurse 
 1^ of sin, 
 
 '^^ No action or thought was too A'ile 
 For a soul that w^as chaos and darkness 
 within. 
 And infested with falseness and guile. 
 
THE SINNER. 13 
 
 The precepts of God were forgotten and gone, 
 No thought of the Saviour was there, 
 
 For Satan had entered and made it his home, 
 And had tangled the wheat with the tare. 
 
 He remembered not how he had stood in his 
 3^outh 
 At the side of his fond mother's chair 
 And heard from her hps the sweet message of 
 
 Truth, 
 And lisped at her knee his first prayer. 
 
 But one night as he lay in the sickness of 
 death. 
 He thought of his childhood's fair days, 
 Of his mother w^hose voice as she drew her 
 last breath 
 Was lifted to Heaven in praise — 
 
 "0 my son, when your heart is in trouble," 
 she spoke, 
 "Just turn to your Father above, 
 Tell Him all your sins, and His pardon in- 
 voke, 
 And He'll blot out the past with His love." 
 
 At that moment he heard the Christ's mes- 
 sage of good, 
 " Come th6u that art weary, oppress'd, 
 
14 THB SINNER. 
 
 Repent of thy sins and be washed in My 
 blood, 
 And lay thy tired head on My breast.'* 
 
 He feared : for he knew that his life had been 
 spent 
 In wickedness wilful and vain, 
 That his hour was at hand and he soon must 
 repent, 
 Or be lost in eternity's shame. 
 
 But the Saviour had called, and he answered 
 His voice, 
 
 ' ' Before Heaven and Thee have I sinned ; 
 O, Blessed Lord save me and bid me rejoice 
 
 In the glory that ne'er shall be dimmed." 
 
 His sickness was healed ; and he lives to pro- 
 claim 
 The kind loving mercy of God, 
 And to thank Him each night, as he kneels to 
 His name. 
 That He "took him from under the rod." 
 
 Now why are we sinners so prone to forget 
 The commands that our Saviour has made, 
 
 Until with misfortune our path is beset 
 And we call Him at once to our aid ? 
 
THE DEATH-BED. 15 
 
 Let us always be faithful and true to that 
 Lord 
 Who doeth all things for the best, 
 And our death will be sweetened when He 
 speaks the word 
 *' Well done ! Enter into My rest !" 
 
 ^H5E 303E^^H-B3IES. 
 
 *' Verily I say unto thec^ to-day shall tkoti be with mc in 
 paradise^ 
 
 -^^ s I passed by a lonely cabin 
 ^^ A child came running out — 
 **^ *' O please, sir, mother's a-dying, 
 
 And there ain't any preacher about. 
 
 *' Won't you come in and read her the Bible ? 
 She says she's afraid for to die, 
 And she can't see to read for herself, sir, 
 
 And there's no one but baby and I." 
 
 I thought to myself: ^'How unworthy 
 
 Am I to lead sinners to God ; 
 How point them the way to salvation 
 
 By a path that I seldom have trod ? 
 
 But I entered the death-chamber praying 
 For strength to m^ father above, 
 
16 THE DEATH-BED. 
 
 To help this poor death-fearing sinner 
 Laj^ hold on His pardon and love. 
 
 I sat by the suiferer's bedside, 
 And told her of Jesits the Lord, 
 
 Of the death that He died to redeem her, 
 Of the promise and hope of His word. 
 
 Bnt her faith, though repentant, was feeble, 
 She told me her sins were so great 
 
 That she knew he could never forgive her; 
 Her repentance, she feared, was too late. 
 
 Then I knelt b^^ the bedside and offered 
 A prayer for her grief-stricken heart, 
 
 That God would in mercy relieve it, 
 And faith in forgiveness impart. 
 
 I read her Christ's promise of pardon, 
 That urged her no longer to wait, 
 
 And His w^ords to the crucified robber, 
 That proved it was never ''too late.'* 
 
 Never too late for forgiveness 
 
 So long as the body has life ; 
 I sang to her "Almost persuaded," 
 
 And that put an end to her strife. 
 
 She wept: then a heavenly brightness 
 Came into her fast-failing eyes, 
 
A PLEA FOR THE FALLEN. 17 
 
 And she called on the name of her Saviour 
 With praises and jubilant cries. 
 
 She summoned the two little children, 
 And told them her end was at hand, 
 
 That she soon would be with their dear father 
 Who had gone to the heavenly land. 
 
 Take a lesson from this, little children ; 
 
 No matter how small you may be 
 You can always do something for Jesus, 
 
 Who died to redeem you and me. 
 
 Had that child never come out to tell me 
 
 Her mother was dying within, 
 No hand would have stretched forth to save 
 her, 
 
 And the soul would have perished in sin. 
 
 " Judge not, that ye be not Jtidged.''^ 
 
 I hypocrites and slow of heart, 
 When shall we understand 
 ^ The way to act a Christian's part 
 And take Christ's wavs in hand ? 
 
 Are we so good that when a man 
 
18 A PLEA FOR THE FALLEN. 
 
 Shall fall and lie in sin, 
 We all must put upon him the ban 
 We know is ours within ? 
 
 Look at ourselves ! Where is the soul 
 
 That never did a w^rong ? 
 We cannot find it in the whole 
 
 Of earth's departed throng, 
 
 All men are vile, and we are too, 
 
 Although we try to hide 
 Our own shortcomings from the few 
 
 Who swim against the tide. 
 
 And from the many thousands, too. 
 Who go down with the stream 
 
 We seek to hide our faults. Too true ! 
 It is no idle dream. 
 
 If he that is without a sin 
 
 Be first to cast the stone, 
 Who will have thrown the missile when 
 
 The Devil claims his own ? 
 
 Why don't we do as Christ has done 
 
 When fellow-sinners fall ? 
 Why not forgive them, like the One 
 
 W^ho pardon gave to all ? 
 
 We sin ourselves, and why not they 
 
A PLEA FOR THE FALLEN. 19 
 
 Who are but mortals weak ? 
 If we shall judge them, where, I pray. 
 Shall ire for mercy seek ? 
 
 *' Vengeance is mine,'' thus saith the Word, 
 
 " And / alone repa\^ ;" 
 What right have we, a mortal herd, 
 
 To take His right away ? 
 
 Nay, let us all conspire to aid 
 
 Our fallen brothers rise, 
 So all maj- share the mansions made 
 
 For us above the skies. 
 
 A kindly word to one in need 
 
 Of help from heaven above. 
 Might get his burden'd conscience freed 
 
 And blessed by Jesus' love. 
 
 For whom did Jesus bleed and die ? 
 
 It was not for the good, 
 But sinners, such as you and I, 
 
 Who need His precious blood. 
 
 If we had righteousness what need 
 
 Of Jesus crucified ? 
 But sinful is our every deed. 
 
 For this the Saviour died. 
 
 Then let us be as brothers all, 
 
20 THE MESSAGE OE CHRIST, 
 
 (No matter bad or good) : 
 To raise, not trample, those who fall, 
 This is true brotherhood. 
 
 '■'■Come unto Mcy all ye that travail and are heavy ladctiy 
 and I will give you rest^'' 
 
 /j^ome to me all ye that travail, 
 ^[llfi All 3^e heavy laden come, 
 ^^ Turn your backs on those who cavil, 
 Share with me my Heavenly Home. 
 
 Though your faith be but as little 
 
 As a grain of mustard seed, 
 Yet shall not one jot or tittle 
 
 Fail your soul's most trivial need. 
 
 Let not doubt or groimdless terror 
 At the thought of b^^gone sin 
 
 Or the heinousness of error 
 Hinder you from entering in. 
 
 Am not I the friend of sinners, 
 And the Help of those who fall ? 
 
 Turn ye, then, and be the winners 
 Of the Life that's free to all. 
 
 I am come to bring salvation 
 
A CRUMB OF COMFORT. 21 
 
 To the soitls of mortal men, 
 Haste ; accept my invitation 
 So that ye may live a^^ain. 
 
 Sin is one continual trouble 
 Which will all your life infest ; 
 
 I can ;give you pleasures double — 
 Blessed peace, eternal rest. 
 
 Your most trusted friends will falter, 
 When misfortune's blow 3^ou feel, 
 
 Trifles will their friendship alter, 
 Though you thought them true as steel. 
 
 But the Friend of all will never 
 Fail you when life's troubles come : 
 
 I will stand by you forever, 
 Here and in My Father's Home. 
 
 ourn not your sainted dead, 
 But dry your ej^es ; for tears do those 
 ^^fw^ no good 
 
 Whose souls have gone in grace 
 To see God face to face ; 
 Ye cannot hire them back, e'en though ye 
 would ; 
 
 They are forever fled. 
 
22 THE DRUNKARD. 
 
 Their lot is happier now 
 Than when through life, in vSnnshine and in 
 shower, 
 
 In darkness and in light. 
 They fought the soul's hard fight 
 To win the crown, through Christ's redeem- 
 ing power, 
 
 Who died on Calvar^-'s brow. 
 
 Their toils forever past. 
 They live in glory, singing 'round the Throne 
 
 OfFatherandofSon 
 
 And Spirit, Three in One, 
 Praising the God who gives them for their 
 own 
 
 The golden crown at last. 
 
 '''' Look not thou tip&n the wine when it is red . . . at 
 the last it biteth tike a serpent and sting eth like an adder. ^^ 
 
 I. 
 
 t the gin-shop door 
 A bloated and slouching figure leans, 
 **"♦ With the drunkard's glass\' and 
 
 blood-shot eyes, 
 
 As he harks to the coarse and ribald cries 
 That come from the room w^ith the painted 
 
THE DRUNKARD, 23 
 
 screens 
 
 And the sanded floor. 
 
 II. 
 ''What a fool!" they shotit, 
 With many a curse and brutal word, 
 
 " He wants to go home to his wife, he says, 
 ''And tell her he'll turn from his evil ways, 
 " The same old lie she so often has heard 
 " From her drunken lout !" 
 
 III. 
 Can a tiny spark 
 Of his smouldering conscience have come to 
 life, 
 And caused him to think of the scalding 
 
 tears, 
 The hopeless despair, and unending fears, 
 Of his starving but patient and faithful wife, 
 And her misery dark ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 On a pallet-bed, 
 In a squalid and cheerless room, that night 
 Lay his wife; but hereyes had now grown 
 
 dim. 
 And the rattle of death and the stiffening 
 limb 
 All told she could never more see the light, 
 She must soon be dead. 
 
24 THE DRUNKARD. 
 
 V. 
 
 A foot on the stair : 
 No piteous sob will he hear to-night, 
 
 Nor word to remind of the joyful da3^ 
 When he promised *'to love and to cherish 
 alway ;" 
 For the suffering soul has winged its flight 
 To the "Home over there." 
 
 VI. 
 
 A splash in the wave, 
 And a gurgling noise as of one who drowned^ 
 'Twas the drunkard, who, crazed at the 
 
 wrong he wrought. 
 Like Judas, a solace in death had sought ; 
 And he sank in the tide wnth never a sound. 
 Nor a call to save. 
 
 Take a hint in time, 
 Ye boys who are growing to man's estate. 
 Keep clear of the bar-room, that hell on 
 
 earth, 
 Where sorrow and miserj^ have their 
 birth. 
 The mother of infamy, murder and hate, 
 And of everv crime. 
 
A PRAYER FOR SUNDAY. 25 
 
 3v pB3vi3i3Pfi Tmm ^mmm^m* 
 
 €iiir Father, help us through the coniiug 
 I week . 
 ^ntf^ That we nia\' be 
 
 Tu all things that we do, and think, and speak, 
 Accept a1)le to Thee. 
 
 Oive us Th3' grace, that in our daih' life 
 
 Our hearts ma^^ reach 
 The Christ-like sweetness, free from hate and 
 strife, 
 
 That Jesus used to teach. 
 
 lie Thou our Helper should the tempter come 
 
 To lead astray, 
 Guide Thou our footsteps safel\' to Th\' home 
 
 Along the narrow way. 
 
 And when these eyes shall close and limbs 
 grow cold 
 
 In Death's embrace, 
 Lord, shelter us within the Heavenly fold, 
 
 Through Christ our Saviour's grace. 
 
26 I. N. R. I. 
 
 ^[tei ailed to a tree 
 
 ^J/JJ Like cominon felon, pierced and wound- 
 
 ^ ^ ed sore, 
 
 His ears assailed with jests and cruel sneers, 
 Taunted, reviled, as never man before 
 Or since ; yet to the storm of heartless jeers 
 Naught answered He. 
 
 Wormwood and gall — 
 
 These were His portion through those awful 
 hours ; 
 
 Keen was the nail and sharp the ruthless 
 thorn, 
 
 Bitter the anguish, fierce the tempter's pow- 
 ers, 
 
 Yet willed He that these tortures should be 
 borne 
 
 Once and for all. 
 
 His mission done 
 He soared above where sorrows are not 
 
 known, 
 Back to the arms of Him who loved Him 
 
 most, 
 And took again His place amid the Throne 
 Where dwell the Father, Son and Holy Ghost 
 As Three in One. 
 
^MISCELLANliOUS. 
 
%m m^mmwt?i^m 
 
 ox THK DEATH OP* JUDGE HE2EKIAH TAYLOR, 
 
 OF ALBEMARLE COUNTY, VA. 
 
 JAN. 21, 1892. 
 
 oil on, toll on, thon grandly solemn bell, 
 Sound to these bleeding hearts the funer- 
 -' al knell, 
 
 Then let th}- throbbing moan sink to a sigh 
 For one more soul sped to its home on high. 
 
 This day they la\' the last remains to rest. 
 Of one who leaves behind a memory' blest, 
 A father, noble, tender, loving, kind, 
 A man of taintless honor, spotless mind. 
 
 A courtly Christian gentleman was he, 
 Staunch friend in sunshine and adversity. 
 His kindW words and genial, honest smile 
 Bespoke a man in whom there was no guile. 
 
 True to his conscience in his public life. 
 Though his impartial justice brought him 
 
 strife. 
 He clung to dut}^ seeking rather then 
 His God's approval than the praise of men. 
 
PAS7\ PRESENT AND FUTURE. 29 
 
 The ''narrow wa\^" was dark, and vsoon the 
 
 light 
 Shone on his work : men saw that he was 
 
 right : 
 Virtue triumphant gave as his reward 
 The peace of mind that deeds well done 
 
 afford. 
 
 * -K- ii- * -K- ^ •::- -;f -x- * 
 
 Farewell, farewell old friend! 
 True was th^^ heart when all seemed dark 
 
 and drear. 
 True shall mj^ heart be to thy memory dear, 
 
 And, when this life shall end, 
 God grant that I may clasp thy hand once 
 
 more. 
 In deathless friendship on the golden shore. 
 
 p^sir. ^nsiBs^m^ :^n%x Tm^nms^. 
 
 PAST. 
 
 -filled with countless memories dear, 
 ^||' Which increase from year to year, 
 "^" Our lives are swallowed by the greedy 
 
 past: 
 And looking back we think each mile upon 
 
 the road of life 
 Sped quicker than the last. 
 
30 RETROSPECT. 
 
 PRESENT. 
 
 For the present that we live, 
 
 Scarce a serious thought we give, 
 
 We only think of past and future days : 
 
 We take things as they come, and, when the 
 
 sun vshines, make our hay 
 Beneath his generous rays. 
 
 FUTURE. 
 
 Like a murky thunder cloud, 
 
 The lightning's darksome shroud — 
 
 Looms the future on th'horizon of our life: 
 
 We seek to pierce its gloom, but that can 
 
 never be, until 
 We end this earthly strife. 
 
 AX OLD MAN S LAMENT. 
 
 iOw often does the sound come back to me 
 In my declining 3'ears, the sound of her 
 ^^"^ dear voice ; 
 
 The A^oice full sweet with witching coquetry, 
 The voice of one I ne'er again can see, 
 My first and only love, the darling of my 
 choice. 
 
 Alas ! the ruthless Fate did cut in twain 
 The thread so sweetto me, the thread of love's 
 
THE LEPER. 81 
 
 fair dream ; 
 The. dream that greedy Death hath reiider'd 
 
 vain, 
 The dream that e'en now fills my ciii> with 
 
 pain, 
 And chills the joys that should my blighted 
 
 life redeem. 
 
 The reaper stole her taintless soul away 
 Ere we to God and man could swear the 
 sacred oath ; 
 The oath we pledged while Cupid held his 
 sway, 
 The oath of love that turns life's night today ; 
 In Heaven, since here we cannot, we'll 
 well redeem our troth. 
 
 «;HiE C3E1J3?B- 
 
 was darkening, and from out a gaping 
 tomb. 
 
 Came forth a lonely figure scantly clad, 
 Which halted in its gait, and rent the air 
 With moans of anguish like a soul gone mad. 
 Its head was covered with its meagre robe. 
 But on the hand which held the robe in i)lace 
 I saw the awful scales, the ashen skin. 
 The nail-less fingers, — never failing trace 
 
32 THE LEPER. 
 
 Of leprosy — the flesh -less joints exposed, 
 And running with foul matter: sad indeed ! 
 But sadder still, when hearing my approach. 
 The figure stopped and bade me take swift 
 
 heed : 
 "Unclean! Unclean! Beware!" it shrill3' cried, 
 Uncovering its head as saith the law ; 
 And sure that face w^as warning full enough 
 To keep from going near, what need of more? 
 Its cheeks were sunken, festered, scarred and 
 
 seamed. 
 With living sores, and old ones dried ^md dead ; 
 Lips cracked and rotted, eyelids honey -combed 
 With holes and crevices ; and on the head 
 The hair was ghastly white as were the brows, 
 And loathsome ichor, oozing do wn each strand 
 Did make it coarse and hard like silver wire. 
 So that its touch was clammy to the hand. 
 The lower limbs were swollen past all shape 
 And gnarled most piteously with cankering 
 
 sores, 
 So that to walk was hard, and fraught with 
 
 pain, 
 And ichor dripped from their distended pores. 
 
 "W^hat art thou, man or woman?" soon 
 I cried. 
 Aghast at such a sight of human woe: 
 For though the hair was long as woman's is, 
 
THE LEPER. 33 
 
 Methought the face and form did manhood 
 
 show, 
 **Alas ! it shrieked, in voice unnatural, 
 *'I am a woman, scarce three summers past 
 "I was as fair as an3^ village maid 
 *'In 3^011 bright hamlet; would they were my 
 
 last! 
 *'I was betrothed to a noble ^^outh 
 ^'Who loved me as himself, and more, he said : 
 "But on nry wedding morn I found the mark 
 "Which branded me as outcast, worse than 
 
 dead. 
 "I know not how it came to me, nor when. 
 "Twas but a little scurf within my palm, 
 "A trifle which I thought to brush away, 
 ' ' But could not. Still I thought it was no harm 
 "Until I showed it to a friend of mine, 
 "A maiden come to 'tire me for my spouse, 
 "Who told him of it; and he came in haste 
 "And cried 'unclean!' and drave me from 
 
 the house. 
 "Thus was it that the one that loved me best, 
 "And on his knees had begged me share his lot, 
 "Was first to spurn me, 'Thou art of the dead 
 " 'Go to thine own, unclean, I wed thee not.' 
 "I staggered from the door, and in the 
 
 street, 
 "Turned to the windows for a last farewell, 
 
34 THE LEPER. 
 
 "Where sat my mother ignorant of my doom ; 
 
 '"O mother sweet, I can no longer dwell 
 
 *" In this m^^ childhood's home,' with tears 
 
 I cried, 
 " 'God's curse is on me. Bitterness and woe 
 *' 'Must henceforth be my portion ; seek me not : 
 '^ 'Dead to the law, unto the dead I go.' 
 
 "Scarce had I ceased, when many former 
 
 friends 
 "Who heard my lover's cruel spurning cry, 
 "Did rush at me with stones, and drive me 
 
 forth, 
 " 'Thou God-accurs'd begone, lest we too die!' 
 "I had but reached the outskirts of the place, 
 "When, turning round, I sawmy mother dear 
 "Making all haste to come to me, that she 
 "Might share my doom. Filled with a sudden 
 
 fear 
 "Lest she should catch the loathsome leprosy, 
 ''I fled with all my speed for near a mile 
 "Until I was alone and unpursued, 
 "And then I rested in a cave a while, 
 "Thinking 'What next, and where?' Then 
 
 to this tomb 
 "I came and made my home, feeding on roots 
 "And herbs such as I found. Thus man^- a 
 
 week 
 
 "I ate and lived as did the mountain brutes. 
 
THE LEPER. 35 
 
 *'At last one CA^eniiig, crawling from my 
 lair 
 "In search of food, I saw the comely form 
 "Of her who would have shared my hideous 
 
 fate, 
 "Ma' mother w^ith her handmaid — all forlorn 
 "At loss of me, and seeking where I w^as, 
 "If haply she might find me and relieve 
 "Somewhat my miser\\ 'Surely now,' I 
 
 thought, 
 " 'They cannot know^ me ; none w^ould e'er be- 
 lieve 
 " 'That this foul mass of putrid rottenness 
 "'Is she who, on that w-edding morn so 
 
 bright, 
 "'Was driven forth with jibes and hurtling 
 
 stones 
 " 'Into a life-long gloom of dawnless night.' 
 ^'Therefore I took the coA^ering from my head, 
 "As is our wont, and cried 'Unclean! Un- 
 clean ! ' 
 "Thinking, moreover, that my voice now 
 
 changed 
 ''From mellow softness into harshness keen 
 "Would not betray me. But alas! too well 
 "My mother knew me. Can a mother's loA^e 
 "Fail to discover some familiar trait 
 "B_v w^hich to know^ her child? By Heaven 
 
36 THE LEPER. 
 
 above 
 "It cannot. Even then she knew her own, 
 ''And stretching forth her arms, 'My child, my 
 
 child, 
 " 'Come to me, dear, or let me come to thee : 
 " 'Na3% rmi not from me now, for I am wild 
 " 'For loss of thee and mourning thy hard 
 
 fate; 
 " 'Let me draw near and take th3^ fell disease 
 "'That I may live with thee and share thy 
 
 pain, 
 " 'For I am wear}^ of such thoughts as these 
 " 'Which have been mine since thou wast 
 
 driv'n away 
 " 'To misery and death. Ah, daughter dear, 
 " 'Far better were it to endure the life 
 " 'Whose only hope is death, death without 
 
 fear 
 " 'So it be spent with thee, than live in health 
 " 'With company of friends, whilst thou, mine 
 
 own, 
 " 'Art wandering outcast o'er the mountain 
 
 side, 
 " 'Dwelling in caves and tombs, sad and 
 
 alone ! ' 
 "Thus spake she tearfully, and ceased; 
 
 but I, 
 "Fearing she would approach me and em- 
 
THE LEPER. 37 
 
 brace 
 "My loathsome form, loathsome to me and 
 
 her, 
 "If she but came thus close, did hide my face 
 "And wept— the teardrops stung my leprous 
 
 cheeks 
 "And eyelids— while I thought me of a scheme 
 "To drive her from me lest she, leprous too, 
 "Should be swept down in death's most filth\^ 
 
 stream. 
 "It was— to curse her, for I knew that then 
 "Her love would leave me, and her heart 
 
 would grow 
 "To hate me, though I felt 'twould wound 
 
 me sore 
 "To treat her thus. Still, it were better so. 
 "O God of Abram! How I vainly wished 
 ''My limbs were fleet as when I fled away 
 "That wedding morn, but they were swoll'n 
 
 as now. 
 "The sin was holy ; pardon grant, I pray I 
 "I raised my head and, as she drew her 
 
 near 
 "To clasp me in her fond embrace of love, 
 "M}^ voice burst forth in curses such as hell 
 "Could not invent nor Satan's self approve. 
 "My purpose was accomplished. Not a word 
 "She spake, save 'O my God! and has it come 
 
38 THE LEPER. 
 
 " 'To this, that iiiine own daughter ciirseth 
 
 me?' 
 ''Then to her hand-maid, 'Take me quickly 
 
 home.' 
 "I watched them out of sight, my mother 
 
 dear 
 "And hand-maid faithful ; then in bitterest 
 
 grief 
 "Betook me to ni}^ tomb, if haply there 
 "In death or madness I might find relief, 
 "But neither came, although I prayed for 
 
 both. 
 "And still I live, unheeded by the Lord, 
 "Loving Him, trusting — though He heareth 
 
 not, 
 "Hoping to share the promise of His Word. 
 
 "At morning now and eventide each day 
 "My. mother's servant brings me drink and 
 
 meat, 
 "Setting it down afar and leaving it 
 "To watch me take it into my retreat. 
 "She brought me change of raiment once, 
 
 but I 
 "Forbade her, saying I had need of none; 
 "I wished to hasten death, and if perchance 
 "Scant raiment brought it, then 'twere better 
 
 done 
 "Than if I slew mvself. Now thou hast heard 
 
VJB VICTIS. 39 
 
 ''My sad and bitter story. Get thee hence. 
 ''Na3% keep thy money; that to such as I 
 "Availeth naught; Heaven bless thy good 
 intents." 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF THE LATE WAR. 
 
 was night: and all around me lay the 
 bodies of the slain, 
 '^^ Dismembered limbs and headless trunks 
 were scattered o'er the plain ; 
 
 No sound I heard save now^ and then the 
 croaking of the frogs, 
 
 The chanting of the whippoorwill, the bark 
 of distant dogs. 
 
 The moon rode high, and shed her rays around 
 me on the dead, 
 
 And at my feet methought I saw an ugly grin- 
 ning head. 
 
 It grinned ; but not in happiness, for on that 
 field of v.'oe 
 
 E'en Satan's self could hardly dare a smile of 
 joy to show. 
 
 I gazed in terror, wondering wh\' that face 
 seemed strange to me 
 
 And yet familiar, with its grin of hellish devil- 
 try. 
 
40 V^ VICTIS. 
 
 I strove to turn and flee, but no ; the sword- 
 thrust in my side 
 Had almost drained my life-blood, and, no 
 
 matter how I tried, 
 I could not rise to turn m\^ back upon that 
 
 spectre dread , 
 The awful face that lived though slain— that 
 
 "Ugb" grinning head. 
 The blood was trickling from its neck as by 
 
 its corse it la3'', 
 And as it looked on me and gnashed its teeth, 
 
 I heard it say 
 *' You know me! Yes, for it was you who, 
 
 with your metal keen. 
 Did hew me off from this my trunk, but now 
 
 at last, I ween, 
 Mv turn has come ; for though my blade did 
 
 pierce you as I fell 
 It slew you not. Now listen to the words I 
 
 have to tell. 
 And then prepare 3^ou for A^our death. Hal 
 
 Satan could not deal 
 Such torments sharp, such cruel pain, as you 
 
 anon shall feel. 
 
 ''Ye Southron fools! And do ye hope to 
 down our Union flags. 
 To tread our standards in the dust and flaunt 
 3^our rebel rags ? 
 
V^ VICTIS. 41 
 
 Ye rout us now and cut us down, but 'ere four 
 
 years are past 
 Your armies shall surrender and your cause 
 
 shall breathe its last. 
 We northmen then will govern you and hold 
 
 you in our hand, 
 And make you feel our tyranny throughout 
 
 your wasted land. 
 Your heroes will we persecute and bow them 
 
 to the ground, 
 And Yankees true in every public office shall 
 
 be found. 
 
 **The savage who was once 3^our slave shall 
 be your master then. 
 
 And slow degrees shall bring him to an equal 
 place with men. 
 
 But first 3'e'll feel his insolence, his arrogance 
 and pride, 
 
 His self-conceit and meanness, and hisbrtitish- 
 ness beside. 
 
 For every daily newspaper shall tell a tale of 
 woe, 
 
 Of honored matrons shamed hj him, of maid- 
 ens' pride laid low. 
 
 And so from age to age shall be your punish- 
 ment prolonged. 
 
 Till ye become the serfs of those who once to 
 you belonged : 
 
42 V^ VICTIS. 
 
 For what is it but serfdom to be ruled by 
 
 black buifoons 
 Whose form is somewhat human, though 
 
 they're mostly like baboons ? 
 ''Yet you, my friend, will hardly live to see 
 
 the negro rule, 
 For 'tis the time for mj^ revenge on 3^ou, poor 
 
 helpless fool!" 
 Thus taunted he, and ceased : and in the 
 
 tvidnkling of an eye 
 The head became a portion of the trunk that 
 
 la^^ hard by. 
 And up it rose and fell on me, all heljoless in 
 
 my pain. 
 And tore my hair and eyes and throat with 
 
 all its might and main. 
 I screamed aloud in agony but moved nor 
 
 hand nor foot, 
 I had no strength to battle it, this murder- 
 ous, vengeful brute. 
 It raved and cursed and bit mj^ flesh and spat 
 
 it in my face, 
 It seemed to wreak on me its hate of all my 
 
 ill-starred race. 
 
 I mustered all rny dying strength, and with a 
 frightful scream 
 
V^ VICTIS. 43 
 
 Awoke to find m3^self in bed, the grinning 
 head a dream. 
 
 The sweat stood out in beads upon ni^- fore- 
 head as I swore 
 
 That my supper should be free from lobster 
 salad evermore. 
 
The reader has doubtless asked himself al- 
 readA^ why a book of this nature was turned 
 loose on the public without any preface. 
 Well, the reason is this : Very few sane peo- 
 ple commence reading a book by wading 
 through the preface. Most of them read the 
 book first and are in that way enabled to ap- 
 preciate the preface, and so turn back to it. 
 However, I do not wish to cast a slur on the 
 few who prefer to begin at the preface, for I 
 used to be that way m^'self until I began to 
 be about ten years of age, and then I came to 
 the conclusion that it was but lost labor to 
 spend my time in reading a page or a page- 
 and-a- half of matter that did not convey to 
 my mind the slightest idea of anything at all. 
 So I made the rather paradoxical resolution 
 that should I ever become cranky enough to 
 write a book myself I would put the preface 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 45 
 
 at the end. Moreover, in this particular in- 
 stance, a preface would be obviously out of 
 place, as nay object is to ''hand round the 
 hat," so to speak, and even a street-musician 
 would hardh' have the audacity to hand 
 round the hat before torturing his audience 
 with his tunes. 
 
 THE HAT. 
 
 The foregoing collection of poems, consist- 
 ing partly of reprints from the Religious Her- 
 ald, of this city, as set forth in the title-page, 
 is published for the benefit of the Union 
 Church at Milton, Albemarle County, Va., a 
 church which has been doing a good work 
 with its Simda3^-school and services, but 
 which is sadly in need of repairs and has to 
 struggle against tremendous odds from lack 
 of funds. In view of these facts I have no 
 hesitation in asking the reader to get his or 
 her friends to buy copies of this little book, 
 for by doing so the^^ will not be helping me 
 but helping the cause of One who has done 
 much to help them. Do not let anj^ question 
 of denomination stand in the way. Baptists, 
 
46 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Alethodists and Episcopalians worship tinder 
 that same roof (which, bY-the-wa3^, leaks in 
 several places and no one has as yet offered 
 to repair it gratis), so we can all contribute 
 and feel that we are givino^ ''the cup of cold 
 water" to the "little ones" of our several de- 
 nominations. The price of the book is mod- 
 erate, and offers an opportunity of doing a 
 good action at a trifling cost. "Cast th\' 
 bread upon the waters for thou shalt find it 
 after many da vs." 
 
 J. R. G. 
 Richmond, Va., May, 1892. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Crumb of Comfort, A 21 
 
 Deathbed, The 15 
 
 Drunkard, The 22 
 
 How to Be Happy 10 
 
 In Memoriam 28 
 
 I. N. R. 1 26 
 
 Leper, The 31 
 
 Light in Darkness, A 8 
 
 Message of Christ, The 20 
 
 My Mother 7 
 
 Past, Present and Future 29 
 
 Plea for the Fallen, A 17 
 
 Postscript 44 
 
 Prayer for Sundaj^, A 25 
 
 Pray God Help Me 11 
 
 Retrospect 30 
 
 Sinner, The 12 
 
 Vae Yictis 39 
 
I, 
 
 mmJl" °^ CONGRESS 
 016 117 384 8 #