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,aS: 
 
 — M"*^ o 
 
 IN 
 
 A SOD-HOUSE. 
 
 BY 
 
 ELIHU BOWLES. 
 
 I am human, and whatever touctcs 
 humanity, totjches me.— lerence. 
 
/ 
 
 FERlOlsSfl"'^ 
 
IN 
 
 A SOD=HOUSE 
 
 
 BY 
 
 ELIHU BOWLES. 
 
 I am hamant and whatever touches 
 humanity, touches me, — Terence* 
 
1216 
 
 Copyrighf, 1897, by ELlriU BOWLES, 
 
 PRICE Tw^nty'five Cents, 
 Address the Author, Emporia, Kansas< 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter, 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 
 V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 X. 
 
 XI. 
 
 XII. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Page, 
 
 FROM BOY TO MAN, . . . . . ♦ 5 
 
 FLEEING FROM CARE, 8 
 
 BUILDING ON THE CLAIM, .... 13 
 THE FIRST NIGHT ALONE, .... 14 
 
 LEARNING TO COOK, 16 
 
 THE FIRST SUMMER, 18 
 
 ON THE RAILROAD, 19 
 
 AT HOME AGAIN, .22 
 
 A WINTER NIGHT, 22 
 
 X HE i UG, • ■ . . , 2'Z 
 
 Dan Fowler's Story of Early Times ;in 
 
 Central Kansas, . . . . .24 
 
 Twinkles, 27 
 
 A Silver Song, ^o 
 
 A Winter Mirage, 32 
 
 THE PASSING YEARS, 34 
 
 A TYPICAL SUMMER, 35 
 
 A STRAY CAT, 39 
 
 THE SECOND EFFORT, 41 
 
 To School Again, 41 
 
 Out of Money, 41 
 
 A Glimpse of the Beautiful, ... 42 
 
 In the Library, ...... 43 
 
 Ned's Flying of Short Duration, . . 44 
 
 A BRIGHTER SIDE, 45 
 
 THE OTHER COUSIN, 46 
 
 Success, ........ 46 
 
 A Doleful Song, 47 
 
 Professor Sanders, 48 
 
 Will's Philosophy, 50 
 
 HUNTING WORK, 52 
 
 A LETTER FROM HOME, .... 54 
 
 NED'S ANSWER, 56 
 
 SLEEPING IN A FREIGHT CAR, ... 58 
 
Chapter !♦ 
 
 FROM BOY TO MAN* 
 
 Ned Sanders when a cheerful boy 
 
 Knew well a farm in Illinois; 
 
 By living in a country home. 
 
 He learned at tender age to roam 
 
 O'er meadows, fields, through forests wide. 
 
 And swamps where water-lilies hide. 
 
 He early learned the moral art 
 
 Of letting Nature tune his heart. 
 
 To him, her works were churches, schools, 
 
 More valuable than printed rules. 
 
 When all the wintry days were gone. 
 And grass again grew on the lawn, 
 He'd go with his companion Rover, 
 To play in meadows lined with clover. 
 He learned the use of bees and flowers, 
 As well as trees and April showers. 
 The river flowing through the wood, 
 He'd learned, was made to do much good : 
 
 To quench the thirst of lowing herds, 
 To furnish ponds for water birds. 
 To wash the fleece of dusty sheep. 
 To pile the drift-wood in a heap. 
 To wet the roots of many trees. 
 To water swarms of honey bees, 
 To run the mill that grinds the wheat, 
 To give the people fish to eat. 
 
 Ned often went beyond the mill 
 
 To spend the day with cousin Will, 
 
 By swimming streams or catching fish. 
 
 Or putting berries in a dish. 
 
 By gath'ring flowers and climbing trees, 
 
 Or robbing nests of bumble bees. 
 
/// a Sod-House. 
 
 In winter time their greatest fun 
 
 Was calling dog and loading gun, 
 
 Then oft^ to have a rabbit chase, 
 
 Or shooting squirrels, or sometimes trace 
 
 The raccoon to his hiding place. 
 
 In school the same as when at play, 
 Those cousins often led the way. 
 If Ned should fail to spell a word. — 
 'Twas seldom, though, such thing occurred — 
 Then Will was apt to pass toward head 
 And leave behind some faces red. 
 
 When problems were too hard for Will, 
 
 Then Ned was glad to show his skill. 
 
 And so it was in history. 
 
 In grammar and geography ; 
 
 When one would fail, 'twas then the two 
 
 Could do the work and prove it true. 
 
 When time h'\d changed those boys to men. 
 And common schools were needless, then 
 To college they had planned to go, 
 To give their minds a chance to grow. 
 Their parents helped by word and deed, 
 And to their sons had guaranteed 
 The cash to pay for tickets, books. 
 And clothes to aid their manly looks, — 
 To pay tuition, car-fare, rents. 
 And then allow for incidents. 
 
 Those cousins talked and dreamed of joys. 
 
 In college with a host of boys. 
 
 Of happy days with new-made friends 
 
 In lyceum halls where knowledge blends 
 
 With laughter, social chats, and breaks 
 
 The selfishness that business makes. 
 
 They talked about astronomy. 
 
 Of Latin and geometry. 
 
 Of college prizes they would win, — 
 
 When all done, then life's work begin. 
 
From Boy to Matt . 
 
 Alas I hard luck befell poor Ned ; 
 His plans all failed ; his hopes all fled. 
 'Tvvas gradually, his father's debts 
 Had grown till larger than assets, 
 Then dashed as eagles come for prey 
 And took the property for pay, — 
 Took hogs and horses, sheep and cows, 
 And wagons, buggies, reapers, plows. 
 It even took their fertile farms. 
 With virtue-making country charms. 
 
 'Twas hard for father, mother, son. 
 
 To start back where they'd first begun ; 
 
 With nothing but their hearts and hands 
 
 And now denied the low-price lands. 
 
 But then the thought that grieved them sore, 
 
 Was : Judgment for two thousand more ! 
 
 The energies of brain and brawn. 
 
 Of parents now are mostly gone. 
 
 Gone where? you say ; look at those fields 
 
 And see the energies there sealed 
 
 In meadows, lawns, and evergreens, 
 
 In house and fences, barn and shed, — 
 
 They hoped to will it all to Ned. 
 
 When time had come for Will to start 
 
 Away, he learned 'twas hard to part 
 
 With father, mother, cousins, too. 
 
 With uncles, aunts, and friends he knew. 
 
 He ne'er had been away a week. 
 
 And all that day could scarcely speak 
 
 Without tears rolling down his cheek. 
 
 And then it made him feel so sad 
 
 To think his friendly cousin had 
 
 To be deprived of college life. 
 
 And take instead the poor man's strife. 
 
 With heavy heart and downcast looks, 
 
 Ned helped Will pack his clothes and books 
 
 In trunks, then load them in the hack. 
 
Li a Sod-House. 
 
 He hitched up Uncle's Grey and Black, 
 Took Will to train, then drove them back. 
 Although in miles 'twas only five, 
 They had a long and lonesome drive. 
 
 They saw no light within the past : 
 
 Misfortune's cruel cloud had cast 
 
 A shadow o'er the innocent jo3^s 
 
 That blessed their lives when playful boys. 
 
 Misfortune also had betrayed 
 
 Them in their plans so gladly made. 
 
 And when that silent, painful ride 
 Was o'er, and trunks were placed inside 
 The depot, then Will said, "Good-by !" 
 Too sad for words, Ned's tearful eye 
 And quivering lip was his reply. 
 He started home and watched the train 
 Till out of sight beyond the plain. 
 His feelings, sobs and tears ran wild ; 
 He cried as never since a child. 
 
 Chapter II, 
 
 FLEEING FROM CARE, 
 
 Ned stayed at Uncle's — tried to rest — 
 Till Monday morn, then started west 
 In search of land, a level tract. 
 Still subject to the "Homestead Act." 
 
 The puffing engine whistling loud ; 
 The coaches packed with sleepy crowd ; 
 The roadside lined with prancing teams ; 
 The many peaceful, wooded streams ; 
 All sizes and all kinds of towns. 
 With people white, and black, and brown ; 
 The rabbits in the hazel thicket ; 
 Conductor's manly, "Ticket, Ticket !" 
 
Fleeing from Care. 
 
 The porter's threadbare monotone ; 
 The lonesome poodle none would own ; 
 The worn-out tourist's midnight groan ; — 
 These rapid changing scenes were best 
 To give Ned's mind a needed rest, — 
 Prepare him for the booming West. 
 
 When far out on the Western plain, 
 The time had come to leave the train. 
 Three thousand feet above the sea, 
 Without a single shrub or tree. 
 He found a magic western town 
 With naught but prairie all around. 
 Old buffalo-grass yet lined the street ; 
 The pieces of sidewalks failed to meet ; 
 The buildings all looked very cheap, 
 And few^ had paint to make them keep ; 
 But they were made of new-sawed pine. 
 And bright as any paint, did shine. 
 
 Of business signs the main display 
 Was, "Boarding by the Week or Day," 
 "Livery Stable," "Feed and Hay," 
 "Town Lots for Sale by Smith and James," 
 "Homestead Lands and Timber Claims," 
 "Land Agency, J. Connelly," 
 "Locating Made a Specialty," 
 "Land Papers Drawn by J. A. Keen," 
 "For Contest Lawyer, See L. Dean." 
 
 Before that town was six months old. 
 Two hundred fifty lots were sold. 
 For sale, was twice as many more. 
 By agents numbering a score. 
 
 Ned hired a locator and team, 
 
 And started for the Beaver stream, 
 
 A small creek thirty miles away. 
 
 'Twas on a very chill}' da}^ ; 
 
 The wind was sharp ; the sky was clear. 
 
 In all that ride no soul was near ; 
 
JO Iji a Sod-House. 
 
 But many living things were passed 
 
 On that bleak plain where buffalo-grass 
 
 Was thin, and scarce four inches high, — 
 
 The color like the crust of pie. J 
 
 Jackrabbits hid 'neath thistles brown ; 
 The prairie dogs had made a town ; 
 Snowbirds and striped squirrels were thick ; 
 Wild ducks were swimming in the creek ; 
 A rabbit claimed a badger hole ; 
 A coyote skulked behind a knoll ; 
 And at the foot of Beaver slope, 
 Were many playful antelope. 
 
 A cattle ranch was reached that night ; 
 To Ned, it seemed a unique sight. 
 'Twas near a naked, stony bluff; 
 The hills on ev'ry side were rough ; 
 A Cottonwood sapling stood alone. 
 Close by a small house made of stone ; 
 The milkhouse, tunneled in the hill. 
 Sent forth a little crystal rill, 
 To water many cattle near. 
 And wet the garden all the year. 
 
 The cattle sheds were 'gainst a bank, 
 Corrals were made of stone and plank ; 
 Near by them stood the water tank. 
 The hay was made of sorghum, rye. 
 And prairie grass from lowlands nigh. 
 
 Though you may go from coast to coast. 
 
 You'll seldom find a kinder host 
 
 Than those two men stayed with that night. 
 
 Warmed by his lire and shared his light. 
 
 They sat down at a table spread 
 
 With cabbage, turnips, beef and bread, — 
 
 With milk and butter, eggs, potatoes — 
 
 With syrup, beans, and canned tomatoes. 
 
Fleeing from Care, ii 
 
 Though it was rather homely fare, 
 
 'Tis seldom better anywhere. 
 
 But that was not the better part : 
 
 'Twas "Welcome," coming from the heart. 
 
 The husband and the wife that night 
 Were entertained with great delight ; 
 And seemed as though some friends had come 
 To cheer their isolated home. 
 
 In weather fair, in snow or rain, 
 The ranchman on the Western plain 
 Counts any evening truly blest. 
 Perchance a trav'ler be his guest. 
 And when you leave you find he took 
 No mortgage on your pocket-book. 
 
 When night had passed, they started on ; 
 But ere the day was halfway gone, 
 They found a claim that suited Ned, 
 Unhitched the team, took lunch and fed. 
 
 The "U. S. Land Office" was in 
 
 The booming town of Prairie Lynn. 
 
 'Twas eighty miles by stage and rail ; 
 
 And Ned now feared that he should fail 
 
 To get his papers on that claim, — 
 
 He feared some one would choose the same. 
 
 Not so, he had his papers on 
 
 That land before two days were gone. 
 
 The Homestead and the Timber Act 
 Had caused the Office to be packed 
 With men in search of western land, — 
 E'en arid plains were in demand. 
 
 At supper Ned heard tales of care 
 
 That many people had to bear. 
 
 A gray-haired man from Iowa 
 
 Said : "Renting there has failed to pay. 
 
i2 In a Sod' House. 
 
 Last year I mortgaged all my mules, 
 My milch-cows and my farming tools ; 
 Besides, T kept my boys from school. 
 Crops failed ; my property all went 
 To pay the mortgage for the rent." 
 
 Of those who thronged the town that night. 
 All seemed to be cosmopolite ; 
 And all, home-seeking, travel-worn, 
 From friends and native country torn. 
 
 An ex-slave came from Tennessee ; 
 A sailor boy from Germany ; 
 A maid from Pennsylvania came 
 To teach a school and take a claim. 
 A swain from Sweden's wintry climes 
 Had crossed the ocean seven times. 
 The sails he raised ; the'ropes he plied ; 
 And all for this : To get one ride. 
 
 The youthful couple lately wed ; 
 
 Young men wiih hope, and heart, and head ; 
 
 The college student seeking health ; 
 
 The business man in search of wealth ; 
 
 The many brawny men of toil. 
 
 Who mix the sunbeams with the soil. 
 
 And by the work of hand and head, 
 
 Convert a part to snow-white bread ; — 
 
 All these, all these become a mass, 
 
 A sturdy, nature-conquering class. 
 
Building on the Claim, tj 
 
 Chapter IIU 
 
 BUILDING ON THE CLAIM. 
 
 When Ned at last secured a claim, 
 
 A sod-house then he made. 
 The tools he used were saw and hammer, 
 ' Breaking plow and spade. 
 He cut sod twenty inches long 
 
 And fourteen inches wide, 
 And then began the building twelve 
 
 By fourteen feet inside. 
 
 He made the walls 'most eight feet high 
 
 And thirty inches thick ; 
 Except he put no mortar in, 
 
 He laid it up like brick. 
 Instead of rafters for the roof, 
 
 Three timbers lengthwise laid, 
 Held up that roof of boards and dirt, — 
 
 Three tons it would have weighed. 
 
 He hauled some "native lime" and sand 
 
 From near the Beaver bluft'. 
 And plastered all the inside walls ; 
 
 So they would not be rough, 
 But make them smooth and clean and white, 
 
 Instead of dirty black. 
 And also keep the winter wind 
 
 From whistling through the cracks. 
 
 Then Ned could not afford to buy 
 
 The lumber for a floor, 
 But whispered to himself, "I'll walk 
 
 On'dirt a year or more." 
 He filed his spade till it was sharp 
 
i^ hi a Sod- House. 
 
 Enough to shave a clod, 
 And then one inch below the surface 
 Shaved away the sod. 
 
 And near one corner, in the wall. 
 
 He drove a wooden pin, 
 And nailed to it a small boot-box 
 
 To put his dishes in. 
 He bought a stove, but made a table, 
 
 Bedstead, bench, and stool ; 
 And all the wood-work showed it ne'er 
 
 Had touched a planing tool. 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 THE FIRST NIGHT ALONE. 
 
 With happiness and honest pride 
 
 For home that was his own, 
 Ned to his little sod-house came 
 
 Prepared to live alone. 
 But when smooth night-cloud hid the east 
 
 And quickly passed to west, 
 A heavy, lonesome feeling then \ 
 As quickly filled his breast. 
 And 
 The watchdog growled. 
 The coyotes howled. 
 The heavens scowled 
 That night. 
 
 Not e'en a wagon road was near ; 
 
 No neighbor's light was seen ; 
 And Ned was parted from his friends — 
 
 A thousand miles between. 
 He ne'er had stayed alone o'er night ; 
 
 No wonder boyhood fears. 
 With ev'rything so strange and new, 
 
 Should enter manhood years, — 
 
The First Night Alone. /j 
 
 When 
 The watchdog growled, 
 The coyotes howled, 
 The heavens scowled 
 
 That night. 
 
 When morning broke, a shining sun 
 
 And clear, blue sky were seen ; 
 And dewdrops shone like diamonds, on 
 
 The level prairies green. 
 The striped squirrels were rearing up 
 
 And skipping o'er the ground ; 
 The yellow-breasted meadow larks. 
 Were singing all around ; — 
 After 
 The watchdog growled, 
 The coyotes howled, 
 The heavens scowled 
 That night. 
 
 How foolishly, how foolishly 
 
 He felt when morning came ! 
 He found imagination had 
 
 Been more than half to blame. 
 So through the day, though working hard, 
 
 He scarce could keep from sleeping. 
 And all the time a tired, languid 
 Feeling o'er him creeping ; 
 Because 
 The watchdog growled, 
 The coyotes howled. 
 The heavens scowled 
 That night. 
 
i6 . In a Sod-House. 
 
 Chapter V. 
 
 LEARNING TO COOK* 
 
 By practice mixed with common sense 
 
 And many comic incidents, 
 
 Ned dearly earned a simple weal — 
 
 Could quickly set a simple meal. 
 
 At first 'twas bad, amazement grew ; 
 
 He learned how little that he knew. 
 
 Then came the bach'lor's starving times. 
 
 Which pinched his stomach, saved his dimes. 
 
 And then a second effort mide 
 
 To learn the kitchen girl's trade. 
 
 The soup-beans boiled within the pot, 
 
 While hen eggs fried in skillet hot ; 
 
 Dry bread was cooked with canned tomatoes ; 
 
 And meat was fried with cold potatoes ; 
 
 The teapot boiled, a thirst to quench ; 
 
 When at the plow, the monkey-wrench 
 
 He'd throw and kill a timid hare, 
 
 Then fry it brown with greatest care. 
 
 One evening Ned found our quite well 
 
 That rice was wonderful to swell : 
 
 He filled half full a small tin pan. 
 
 Then poured in water from a can, 
 
 Then put it on the stove to boil. 
 
 Then stopped to rest from weary toil. 
 
 The water muttered rather low ; 
 
 The rice was cooking somewhat slow ; 
 
 But rising up like warm yeast dough. 
 
 And soon above the can did show 
 
 Like a hay-shock covered o'er with snow. 
 
 He dipped a part out with a spoon ; 
 
 Again, again, he dipped ; but soon 
 
 'Twould rise up like a rising moon. 
 
Learning- to Cook. ly 
 
 And supper gave its share of fun : 
 That rice was scorched, but not quite done. 
 When tired of pancakes ev'ry day, 
 When tired of going two miles away 
 To get a neighbor's wife to bake, 
 Ned thought a better course he'd take. 
 He knew one man who baked light bread, 
 And did it well, so people said. 
 "I, too, will learn to bake," thought he ; 
 "I'll save my dimes for meat and tea." 
 His neighbor bach'lor gave advice ; 
 Ned read the yeast box over twice ; 
 Then went to work to make the dough ; 
 He stirred in flour till it would flow 
 About like sorghum in the snow ; 
 Then set it on the stove to rise. 
 Till it was twice its former size. 
 But suddenly a voice, ''Hello ! 
 Say, Sanders, don't you want to go 
 With us and have a coyote chase 
 Along the draws on Murphy's place?" 
 Away they went with mingling sounds 
 Of men, of hoofs, of anxious hounds. 
 A few short hours, Ned reached his door. 
 His spirits then began to lower ; 
 A sadder countenance he wore : 
 That dough had streamed the cook stove o'er 
 It'stood in puddles on the floor ; 
 What little stayed inside the pan, 
 "Had sunk to rise no more." 
 
^8 In a Sod-House. 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 
 THE FIRST SUMMER. 
 
 The first year Ned was on his claim 
 
 It underwent a change, 
 Affecting in a serious way 
 
 A neighbor's cattle range. 
 For weeks in spring and summer 
 
 He was busy, wet and dry, 
 A"plowing sod for sorghum, corn. 
 
 For winter wheat and rye. 
 Near by his house he dug a well — 
 
 No spring was on his land — 
 'Twas eighty feet ; and half the way 
 
 Was curbed to hold the sand. 
 He earned some cash by carrying 
 
 Surveyor's flag and chain. 
 By hunting corner stones worn out 
 
 By wind, by frost and rain. 
 So Ned was never idle, but 
 
 Was always hard at work. 
 He hoped to found a happy home ; 
 
 And dared not, could not shirk. 
 
On the Railroad. 
 
 19 
 
 Chapter VU. 
 
 ON THE RAILROAD. 
 
 The men who settle in the West, 
 On land that's unimproved, 
 
 Soon find expenses greater than 
 They figured when they moved. 
 
 The little incomes all are gone, 
 By which more cash to win. 
 
 The money keeps on going out, 
 But ceases coming in. 
 
 Ned found it so, and went to work 
 A hundred miles away, 
 
 And hired to work with railroad men- 
 Three twenty-five per day. 
 Then 'twas 
 
 Down the grade and turn the scraper, 
 
 In the pit and fill the scraper. 
 
 Up the grade and dump the scraper, — 
 Round and round, 
 Up and down. 
 
 Through the weary, weary hours. 
 
 He went to work as at the plow. 
 
 With honesty and zeal. 
 Another workman cursed him when 
 
 Ned's team was near his heel. 
 But after noon the team was tired ; 
 
 And Ned was tired, too ; 
 As tardy minutes came and went. 
 
 They both more tired grew. 
 Of all the days Ned ever worked, 
 
 That seemed the longest one ; 
 It seemed as if some Joshua 
 
 Had meddled with the sun ; — 
 
20 hi a Sod-House. 
 
 But 'twas 
 Down the grade and turn the scraper, 
 Inihe pit and fill the scraper, 
 Up the grade and dump the scraper, — 
 
 Round and round, 
 
 Up and down, 
 Through the weary, weary hours. 
 
 Next morn at five the surly boss 
 
 Aroused the railroad camp. 
 Ned slept within his wagon, though 
 
 The air was cool and damp. 
 The muscles of his arms and legs 
 
 Were somewhat stiff* and sore ; 
 His back had tallied ev'ry time 
 
 He turned the scraper o'er. 
 With breakfast done, he hurried out 
 
 And quickly hooked the traces. 
 At work he found the greatest pressure 
 
 On the sorest places. 
 But 'twas 
 Down the grade and turn the scraper, 
 In the pit and fill the scraper, 
 Up the grade and dump the scraper, — 
 Round and round. 
 Up and down. 
 Through the weary, weary hours. 
 
 The days were short ; and when from camp 
 
 To work they all had gone, 
 The frost would often glisten by 
 
 The light of fading dawn. 
 One hour for noon, and then when all 
 
 Were back to camp at night, — 
 The only'remnant of the day, 
 
 A narrow streak of light. 
 So through the many sunny days, 
 
 .When air was still and clear. 
 Through Vind and dust, through cloud and 
 
 With chilly atmosphere, [^og 
 
 i 
 
On the Railroad. 
 
 21 
 
 It was 
 Down the grade and turn the scraper, 
 In the pit and fill the scraper, 
 Up the grade and dumpihe scraper, — 
 
 Round and round. 
 
 Up and down. 
 Through the weary, weary hours. 
 
 When winter snows had fallen, and 
 
 When railroad work was done, 
 Ned started for his homestead 
 
 With the money dearly won, — 
 A sum not large, although enough 
 
 To live the winter through, 
 To buy the grain to feed his team 
 
 And feed a pig or two. 
 So Ned was glad that he had gone 
 
 To work with railroad men ; 
 Yet hoping never, never more 
 To have to go again ; 
 For 'twas 
 Down the grade and turn the scraper. 
 In the pit and fill the scraper, 
 Up the grade and dump the scraper, — 
 Round and round. 
 Up and down. 
 Through the weary, weary hours. 
 
In a Sod- House. 
 
 Chapter Vm. 
 
 AT HOME AGAIN. 
 
 "Ned Sanders is at home again," — 
 
 This simple message went 
 From house to house for miles around 
 
 That scattered settlement. 
 
 With country new and neighbors few, 
 'Tis then they're near in heart ; 
 
 But thousands with but elbow room 
 Are many miles ripart. 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 
 A WINTER NIGHT* 
 
 The ground was white ; the moon was bright 
 
 And jolly swains had come 
 To spend an evening wath their friend 
 
 Within his sod-house home. 
 They talked and laughed while doing chores 
 
 They laughed and talked at tea ; 
 With jokes and pranks and stories went 
 
 The evening merrily. 
 By turns they took the musket out 
 
 And hid behind the feed-pile, 
 To shoot jackrabbits come to dine 
 
 Upon the sorghum seed-pile. 
 With telling wit and humor, and 
 
 With pathos in between. 
 Effectively a part of them 
 
 Could tell what they had seen. 
 Jim Simpson worked, the summer past. 
 
 In Colorado Springs, 
 
A Wifiter Night. 23 
 
 A pretty town where little pug 
 
 To lordly fashion clings. 
 With gestures and sarcastic air, 
 
 While stoutly standing up, 
 'Twas thus he told the story of 
 
 A woman and her pup : 
 
 •"When the day was calm and sunny 
 And the blossoms full of honey, 
 To the workmen it was funny 
 Then to see this queen of money 
 Starting out to take a walk. 
 All alone — with none to talk ; 
 But she would lug 
 And tightly hug 
 Her little pug- 
 nose pup. 
 
 ^^Yet her home contained two other ; 
 For this woman was a mother 
 Of a baby and its brother ; 
 But her heart did nearly smother 
 Under such a load of gold. 
 Yes, her baby-love grew cold, 
 Till she would lug 
 And tightly hug 
 A little pug- 
 nose pup, 
 
 ^'Should this woman go a-riding 
 With her babies, then confiding 
 Friends would turn away deriding, 
 In deep shame their faces hiding; 
 For they'd say she's in a plight, 
 But acknowledge it was right 
 For her to lug 
 And tightly hug 
 Her little pug- 
 nose pup. 
 
24- In a Sod-House. 
 
 "Many modern lords are very 
 Careful that they never marry 
 Any woman who will carry 
 Children ; for they say 'twill bury 
 All their honor to be seen 
 With a w^oman — gentle queen 
 If she won't lug 
 And tightly hug 
 A little pug- 
 nose pup." 
 
 Dan Fowler's Story of Early Times in Central Kansas. 
 
 "In eighteen hundred seventy-three, 
 
 My parents started west to see 
 
 If they could find where land was free ; 
 
 "For Kansas then was on a boom ; 
 
 The crops were good, the flowers in bloom. 
 
 And Indians mostly in the tomb. 
 
 "In seventy-four, while on the claim. 
 Grasshoppers by the billions came, 
 Reversing many a settler's aim. 
 
 "When troubles came, when hope had ceased. 
 One half the men their wagons greased, 
 Then loaded up and started east. 
 
 "But we were with the half which stayed 
 To see a farming country made 
 On lands where buflfalo yet strayed. 
 
 "None fell a prey to famine's clutch ; 
 But people's like for game was such 
 That quails and rabbits suff'ered much. 
 
 "Next year tall grass gre\v on the hill ; 
 The people had fat hogs to kill, 
 And corn and wheat to take to mill. 
 
A Winter Night. 2^ 
 
 "The rye grew ver}^ thick and tall ; 
 Potatoes grew enough for all ; 
 Then turnips, later in the fall. 
 
 "Tomatoes, lettuce, onions, beans. 
 Cucumbers, peas, and mustard greens 
 Made gardens smile with richest scenes. 
 
 "In spring wild berries came so quick ; 
 In summer, plums and grapes were thick ; 
 And walnuts grew along the creek. 
 
 "But nature's smile was only part ; 
 For thorns must clothe the naked heart, 
 Before a poor man gets a start. 
 
 "Homesteaders' teams were not the best ; 
 For wornout plugs must try the West. 
 In this the East was truly blest. 
 
 "Of fifty horses, five were sound. 
 Indeed, disease did much abound, 
 Diseases simple, complex, compound. 
 
 " 'Twas ringbone, curb, or hoof-bound feet. 
 Too many bones, too little meat ; 
 While years alone were found complete ; 
 
 "Or hair too long, or hide too tight ; 
 Poll-evil, blindness, or failing sight. 
 While spring-halt made one foot too light. 
 
 "Stump-suckers to the fence rail clung ; 
 
 A fever oft was in the lung ; 
 
 While knees or ankles both were sprung. 
 
 "But such made only fun for me. 
 While passing on in boyhood glee 
 To years where other sights I see. 
 
 "Sometimes when heavy grass was dry. 
 The fires would start while winds were high, 
 And go like cyclones passing by. 
 
26 in a Sod-House. 
 
 ''They blackened all things in their way ; 
 Burned scores of stables in a da}^ 
 With piles of corn and stacks of hay. 
 
 "A dirty place for human souls 
 
 To live, was in those 'dug-out' holes, 
 
 Just covered o'er with dirt and poles. 
 
 "The only planks were in the door ; 
 The walls were dirt and nothing more ; 
 And so, the damp, uneven floor. 
 
 "But cares wore fast on heart and brow, 
 When debts had taken team and plow, 
 Ur taxes took the only cow. 
 
 "Yet cares were few and light for me. 
 While passing on in boyhood glee 
 ^fo vears where other sights I see. 
 
 "The house in which was taught our school. 
 Though very rough — to children cruel — 
 Was warm in winter, in summer cool. 
 
 "The floor was dirt ; so half the walls. 
 While half was made of logs quite small. 
 Of logs too tough for wedge and maul. 
 
 "The roof was boards with dirt on top. 
 Log frame beneath, then center prop 
 To hold it so it couldn't lop. 
 
 "The coarse slab benches had no backs ; 
 Their legs were poles dressed with an ax. 
 To sit there long was quite a tax. 
 
 "Not even shelves had been supplied ; 
 But on those benches long and wide, 
 The scholar's books lay by his side. 
 
 "But school days all made fun for me, 
 While passing on in boyhood glee, 
 To years where other sights I see. 
 
A Winter Ni^/it. sj 
 
 "Our log-house home upon the hill, 
 Where children moved at parents' will, 
 Was school when district schools were still. 
 
 "With ev'ry mind on knowledge bent, 
 And ev'ry one with books content. 
 Our evenings round the fire were spent. 
 
 "And when by memory I see 
 
 Those boyhood days which used to be. 
 
 It seems all things made fun for me." 
 
 An altruistic theorist 
 
 Was Victor I. La Ray, 
 A rustic man who studied in 
 
 A simple sort of way. 
 Peculiar was the method used 
 
 In giving men his views. 
 His aim was ever to instruct ; 
 
 Some thought it to amuse. 
 He said : "I have a funny story 
 
 I would like to read." 
 To listen, Ned and all the others 
 
 Gladly then agreed. 
 He took a paper from the inner 
 
 Pocket of his coat. 
 And read this comic piece of verse 
 
 An eastern author wrote : 
 
 "Old Susan Kellum owned a cow 
 
 And lived in Germantown. 
 In selling milk, she found she must 
 
 Compete with neighbor Brown. 
 'Twas almost like starvation for 
 
 Herself and little Dick. 
 One day her boy came running in 
 
 And said : 'Brown's cow is sick.' 
 
28 In a Sod' House. 
 
 Then quickly came a twinkle in 
 
 Old Susan Kellum's eye ; 
 It seemed she wouldn't worry, though 
 
 Her neighbor's cow should die. 
 
 "Brown's customers began to come 
 
 To buy her milk and cream ; 
 She sold a pint to Doctor Smith. 
 
 A quart to Lawyer Beam ; 
 And Brown, himself, came over then 
 
 To buy a quart or so. 
 'Twas then that Susan tried her best 
 
 Strong sympathy to show, 
 But she couldn't hide the twinkle 
 
 In the corner of her eye. 
 'Twas plain she wouldn't dress in black. 
 
 Though Brown's old cow should die. 
 
 "She sold new milk, skimmed milk, and cream, 
 
 Sold all the cow would give ; 
 And little Dick and Susan Kellum 
 
 Then knew how to live. 
 A box must hold two sacks of flour, 
 
 The shed a ton of coal ; 
 Some apples in a coffee-sack ; 
 
 Potatoes in a hole. 
 And Susan had a twinkle in 
 
 The corner of her eye ; 
 It plainer grew when Brown had hung 
 
 His cow-hide out to dry. 
 
 "When our farmers have a crop 
 
 While old Russia suffers drought. 
 When a teacher gets a school 
 
 By shoving some one out, 
 When a workman gets a job 
 
 With a dozen standing by — 
 Oh this world is full of twinkles ; 
 
 Have you tried to find the why? 
 
A Winter Night. 2g 
 
 There are many twinkles twinkled 
 
 By those who have the pie, 
 Like the twinkles Susan twinkled 
 
 In the corner of her eye. 
 
 '*But do not censure harshly, 
 
 Though many starve and die, 
 While others live in plenty, with 
 
 A twinkle in the eye ; 
 But let us work together for 
 
 A better time that's nigh, 
 When an honest man can live without 
 
 A twinkle in his eye ; 
 When there won't be twinkles twinkled 
 
 By those who have the pie, 
 Like the twinkles Susan twinkled in 
 
 The corner of her eye." 
 
 That moonlight, winter night when swains 
 
 Had come to visit swain, 
 Ned's little sod-house standing far 
 
 Upon the Western plain. 
 Was filled in early hours by 
 
 Much talk, much chatting gay ; 
 But later in the night, the talk 
 
 Was in a sober way. 
 The conversation lasted till 
 
 The midnight hour was near ; 
 And all had shared in talking but 
 
 The quiet Jack O'Lear. 
 Says Jim : "You know that Jack's the singer ; 
 
 Now we need a song. 
 For all are growing sleepy and 
 
 The hours growing long." 
 Then others said : "Come, Jack, a song !" 
 
 "Some music, Jack, now quick !" 
 "We want the song you learned while working 
 
 Out at Clear Creek." 
 Jack seeing now a good excuse, 
 
 Said with a timid shrug : 
 
^& in a Sod-House. 
 
 ''I ought not sing that silver song. 
 
 For Ned's a good goldbug." 
 Then Ned arose good naturedl}^ 
 
 And slapped him on the back ; 
 Said : "I'm the man your song is for. 
 
 Come now, some music, Jack !" 
 So Jack began to clear his throat ; 
 
 Then gave a timid shrug : 
 Then sang by rote this silver song, 
 
 To Ned, the good goldbug : 
 
 "'It is sad and also funny 
 
 That a man who has no money, 
 
 Not a penny 
 
 For the many 
 Men whom he has begged to trust him. 
 Says 'free silver' does disgust him, 
 Thinks more money sure would bust him 
 
 But admits 
 
 He has quit 
 Hearing silver dollars dingle. 
 Any coin when it is single, 
 With no other one to mingle. 
 Cannot jingle, jingle, jingle 
 
 In the pockets of the farmer, 
 
 In the purses of the toiler, 
 
 On the counters of the merchant. 
 
 White silver, 
 
 Bright silver — 
 Give us silver, silver, silver, 
 
 Free silver. 
 
 "Call the miner from his hovel : 
 Bring along \^our pick and shovel ; 
 
 Tap the fountains 
 
 In the mountains ; 
 Start the streams of silver flowing ; 
 Start the bankrupt business going ; 
 Make the gold king stop his crowing : 
 
A Winier NisJit. 
 
 31 
 
 Give him hints 
 That our mints 
 Make the silver dollars dingle. 
 Any coin when it is single, 
 With no other one to mingle, 
 Cannot jingle, jingle, jingle 
 
 In the pockets of the farmer. 
 In the purses of the toiler. 
 On the counters of the merchant. 
 White silver. 
 Bright silver — 
 Give us silver, silver, silver, 
 Free silver. 
 
 (The Future.) 
 
 '•Men have lost their long devotion 
 To the lords across the ocean. 
 Who once ruled us. 
 Who once schooled us. 
 Many men are mining silver; 
 Many are refining silver ; 
 Mints are coining shining silver. 
 Any man 
 Often can 
 Hear the silver dollars dingle ; 
 For no coin is longer single. 
 See them by the hundreds mingle ; 
 Hear them jingle, jingle, jingle 
 In the pockets of the farmer. 
 In the purses of the toiler. 
 On the counters of the merchant. 
 White silver. 
 Bright silver — 
 We have silver, silver, silver. 
 Free silver." 
 
 Then all went home but singing Jack ; 
 He stayed o'er night with Ned. 
 
^2 in a Sod-House. 
 
 The hours like minutes flew away. 
 
 When night had gone, Jack said : 
 "Tve listened, and I half believe 
 
 The coyotes have a hen ; 
 Because I hear your leghorn rooster 
 
 Cackle now and then." 
 Then out they went ; and all — 
 
 The far-extending plain was like 
 
 A peaceful sea of snow ; 
 The morn was clear ; the air was still : 
 
 And mercury was low. 
 When Venus hid behind the dawn, 
 
 The sun was soon in view ; 
 Then suddenly the plain, a strange. 
 
 Delusive landscape grew ; 
 And truth took wings, but left delight : 
 And though the eye 
 Then told a lie. 
 It was, indeed, a pleasing sight. 
 
 Across the west a range of hills 
 
 Arose ten miles away ; 
 And far along the north a smooth 
 
 Extensive valley la}' ; 
 The towns and villages appeared 
 
 For twenty miles around. 
 With buildings thrice their real size 
 
 And some not touching ground ; 
 For truth took wings, but left delight ; 
 And though the eye 
 Then told a lie. 
 It was, indeed, a pleasing sight. 
 
 A neighbor's sod-house came in sight, 
 
 A palace nearly done ; 
 A cattle ranch stood on its edge 
 
 And faced the morning sun. 
 At other times the railway train 
 
 Was wholly hid from view ; 
 
A Winter Night. jj 
 
 In sight in now alternately 
 
 From hill to valley flew ; 
 For truth took wings, but left delight ; 
 
 And though the eye 
 
 Then told a lie, 
 It was, indeed, a pleasing sight. 
 
 But suddenl}^ the inter'sting 
 
 Delusion disappeared : 
 The ridges sank ; the valleys rose ; 
 
 The plain again was cleared 
 Of villages away from home, 
 
 Of trains far oft' the track, 
 Of cattle ranches out of shape, 
 
 Of palaces in black. 
 Again truth filled the morning light ; 
 The human eye 
 Then told no lie, 
 Yet one could see a pleasing sight. 
 
^4 Jf^ « Sod-House. 
 
 Chapter X. 
 
 THE PASSING YEARS. 
 
 The first few years, Ned's land was farmed 
 
 As land in Illinois. 
 No one need tell him how to farm ; 
 
 He learned that when a boy. 
 He planned, or plowed, or planted from 
 
 The dawn till close of day : 
 He planned, or plowed, or planted as 
 
 The seasons rolled away. 
 
 Sometimes he raised a paying crop, 
 
 But often he would fail ; 
 Sometimes the West was Eden, 
 
 Sometimes 'twas drought or hail. 
 And then his plows grew rusty ; 
 
 Dry farming didn't pay ; 
 And grass hid all the furrows as 
 
 The seasons rolled away. 
 
 Not idle he, but often worked 
 
 Upon a ranch near by ; 
 Dehorning, branding, driving cattle; 
 
 Cutting corn or r3'e ; 
 Or working in the sorghum patch. 
 
 Or making prairie hay. 
 'Twas hard he always labored as 
 
 The seasons rolled away. 
 
 Sometimes he worked the harvest through 
 
 In Kansas wheat-fields great, 
 Or gathered corn through autumn days 
 
 In fair Nebraska state. 
 Or chopped the pines that grew among 
 
 The rugged Rockies gray. 
 The hopes of youth still spurred him on, 
 
 Though seasons rolled away. 
 
A Typical Su miner. jj 
 
 Chapter XI, 
 
 A TYPICAL SUMMER* 
 
 When the heart is needing cheering 
 From the ills of pioneering 
 
 On the Plains, 
 There is nothing that is better 
 To relieve it from its fetter 
 
 And its pains. 
 
 Than a pleasant summer morning, 
 With the sun of June adorning 
 
 Landscapes round. 
 Then the air is clear and mellow, 
 And the sunlight falling yellow 
 
 On the ground. 
 
 Then the grass on all the prairie, 
 As upon a lawn, is ver^^ 
 
 Fresh and green ; 
 But 'tis freckled o'er with flowers, 
 Which the dashing summer showers 
 
 Keep so clean. 
 
 From the spring a stream of water 
 Slowly trickles down the gutter 
 
 'Mong the rushes ; 
 To his mate the dove is cooing — 
 Can't tell when to quit his wooing. 
 
 In the bushes. 
 
 In the sandy brooklet brimming 
 Many speckled trout are swimming. 
 
 In the light ; 
 While the catfish and the turtle 
 Swim near willow, plum, or myrtle, * 
 
 Out of sight. 
 
 * A lowland slirub, erroneously called myrtle. 
 
^6 In a Sod- House. 
 
 Where the stone from hills are cropping. 
 Many rabbits young are hopping, 
 
 All unheard ; 
 Where the creviced rocks are highest. 
 Dwells the hawk, for he's the shyest 
 
 Prairie bird. 
 
 To the plain so far from timber, 
 Redhead with his neck so limber. 
 
 Forth has come ; 
 And the gawky little plover 
 With his spindle-legged lover 
 
 Is at home. 
 
 To the plants that are exotic, 
 Wind and sun are quite despotic 
 
 Now and then ; 
 But with rain in earl}^ summer, 
 Both the new and oldest comer 
 
 Hope again. 
 
 Then the ground is moist and mellow. 
 And the rye-patch turning yellow 
 
 On the hill : 
 Wheat and barley both are blooming ; 
 New-mown hay, the air perfuming 
 
 Near the rill. 
 
 'Tis not every year, but often 
 Pride of June lies in its coffin 
 
 In July. 
 Early hopes are badly shattered ; 
 And the people who were flattered 
 
 Stand and sigh. 
 
 When the summer heat increases. 
 And for weeks the moisture ceases — 
 
 When rain stops, — 
 Then when midday hour is nearing, 
 Southwest winds begin to seering 
 
 Growing crops. 
 
A Typical Summer. j>7 
 
 After noon the wind is higher, 
 And the air is getting drier 
 
 Ev'ry hour. 
 Skies above are growing hazy ; 
 And the people growing lazy, 
 
 Sad, and sour. 
 
 'Gainst the house the wind keeps knocking ; 
 In the corner flies are flocking 
 
 From the gale ; 
 Garden truck is badly wilted ; 
 And the tender weeds are tilted, 
 
 Looking pale. 
 
 When the sun begins to lower, 
 Then the wind is slower, slower, 
 
 Till it stops. 
 With the wind the heat decreases. 
 Till at night it wholly ceases 
 
 Burning crops. 
 
 % But this work is not completed : 
 Dry, hot winds are oft repeated 
 
 Many days. 
 Like the fodder for the cattle. 
 Then the corn blades loudly rattle — 
 
 Dead the maize. 
 
 Millet ceases growing taller ; 
 But instead 'tis getting smaller 
 
 Ev'ry day. 
 Grass is whitish brown, and curly ; 
 Not the fresh, dark green of early 
 
 June or May. 
 
 Then on Saturday homesteaders 
 
 Come from breaking plows and headers 
 
 To the town. 
 In the stores and on the sidewalks. 
 Little groups with humbled pride talks ; 
 
 Things are brown. 
 
j8 - In a Sod- House. 
 
 One will soon begin to moving ; 
 One will go without first proving 
 
 On his claim. 
 One will sow more wheat than ever — 
 "Idling soil so rich was never 
 
 Nature's aim." 
 
 But the latter summer's raining 
 Stops the people from complaining 
 
 Of the drought. 
 He who poorly built his sod-house. 
 Finds it now a sloppy mud-house. 
 
 In and out. 
 
 Lakelets all around are showing ; 
 Creeks are rivers swiftly flowing 
 
 Down the plain ; 
 And the district overseer 
 Finds his road work looking queer 
 
 Since the rain. 
 
 Soon another picture brightens 
 All the dreary land and lightens 
 
 Many hearts. 
 Most of those, who, sorely grieving. 
 Were intent on quickly leaving, 
 
 Fail to start. 
 
 Soon the prairies all are greener, 
 Herds of kine and horses cleaner. 
 
 Fat and sleek. 
 Under skies as blue as sapphire, 
 Grows the broomcorn, sorghum, kaffir 
 
 Rank and thick. 
 
 Latent are thy great resources. 
 Soil and hidden water courses, — 
 
 Arid West ! 
 Where the buftalo has flourished. 
 Millions there will yet be nourished 
 
 On thy breast. 
 
A Stray Cat. ^g 
 
 Chapter XII, 
 
 A STRAY CAT. 
 
 One winter eve cold winds were whistling loud : 
 And o'er the sky was hung a heav}^ cloud. 
 Snowflakes were beating 'gainst the windovvpane 
 Of Ned's sod shanty on the barren plain ; 
 With book he sat beside the fire and light, 
 As pleasantly as on a starry night. 
 He heard a scratch 
 About the latch, 
 Then listened near the cabin door, 
 Then opened wide the cabin door. 
 In came a cat ! 
 
 Then ''Hiss I" and off it scampered in the storm. 
 
 Ned went to reading, happy, snug, and warm ; 
 
 And laughing freely at the cutting wit 
 
 Of Thacker}', whose missiles often hit 
 
 The hollow vessels of the social state: 
 
 It takes both heads and hearts to make men great. 
 
 He heard a scratch 
 
 About the latch. 
 Then listened near the cabin door. 
 Then opened wide the cabin door. 
 
 In came a cat, 
 
 A timid cat ! 
 
 Again the homeless kitty had to go. 
 In darkness plunging through the pelting snow. 
 With book Ned sat beside the fire and light. 
 And felt the worth of home on such a night ; 
 Yet half condemned for chasing off a stray. 
 As if 'twere on a sunny summer da}^ 
 
 He heard a scratch 
 
 About the latch, 
 
40 In a Sod-H&iise. 
 
 Then listened near the cabin door, 
 Then opened wide the cabin door. 
 
 In came a cat, 
 
 A friendless cat, 
 A white and yellow spotted cat. 
 
 "Come, kitty, come !" this time it gladly heard. 
 Then leaping on the bed it loudl}^ purred ; 
 And louder, louder purred while running round 
 A refuge from the storm at last was found. 
 To pity things that feel became delight 
 To Ned ; because upon a stormy night 
 He heard a scatch 
 About the latch, 
 Then listened near the cabin door, 
 Then opened wide the cabin door 
 For e'en a cat, 
 A homeless cat, 
 A pretty, playful, spotted cat. 
 
The Second Effort. 41 
 
 Chapter XIIL 
 
 THE SECOND EFFORT. 
 
 To School Again. 
 
 Since Ned first planned to go to college, 
 
 Many ^^ears had passed. 
 He often thought : "I'll go next year." 
 
 He did succeed at last. 
 At first 'twas quite embarrassing 
 
 To him, he'd been so long 
 Where surging crowds were never known 
 
 'Twas strange to see such throng. 
 All students seemed so distant, cold ; 
 
 A few professors gruft' 
 Reminded him of railroad times 
 
 With Irish bosses rough. 
 Ned soon began to sighing for 
 
 The freedom of the Plain, 
 And secretly to wishing 
 
 That he were there again. 
 
 Out of Money. 
 
 'Twas then his essay teacher, 
 
 A pretty innocent maid. 
 Told all the pupils in the class 
 
 That she'd refuse to grade 
 An essay that was written 
 
 On any kind of note. 
 Except the kind the faculty 
 
 Had ordered by their vote. 
 She held the fancy paper up 
 
 And told the class to look ; 
 And then Ned felt the crushing weight 
 
 Of an empty pocketbook. 
 
/f.2 In a Sod-House. 
 
 He fretted and he worried, and 
 
 He worried and he thought : 
 "A quarter's worth of paper with * 
 
 A nickel can't be bought." 
 So he worried and he fretted and 
 
 He worried and he thought: 
 ''A quarter's worth of paper with 
 
 A nickel can't be bought." 
 Unwillingly he ventured 
 
 To use another kind, 
 Some cheaper sheets he'd had a year. 
 
 But then was glad to find. 
 He knew the work in essay couldn't 
 
 Less than zero be, 
 Not thinking that another way 
 
 Would come the penalty. 
 So when she held Ned's essay up 
 
 And told the class to look, 
 Again he felt the crushing weight 
 
 Of an empty pocketbook. 
 
 A Glimpse of the Beautiful. 
 
 Soon a brighter day was dawning ; 
 
 Ned was 'neath a painted sky ; 
 Lectures quickly caught his ear ; the 
 
 Grand museum caught his e3'e. 
 
 Choral classes sent their music 
 Through the corridor and hall ; 
 
 And piano tones were rolling 
 Up the spacious college wall. 
 
 Recitations lost their terror. 
 As his love for teachers grew ; 
 
 And acquaintance made of students 
 Many friends both kind and true. 
 
The Second Effort. 43 
 
 When the clouds would cross the heav'ens, 
 'I'hey displayed the richest hue ; 
 
 When the sun had made them vanish. 
 Skies were left in deepest blue. 
 
 When the wind began to blowing, 
 There was music in the breeze ; 
 
 When the sun was'neath the hilltops, 
 St?rs were gleaming through the trees. 
 
 When the earth was wrapped in darkness. 
 
 Then the keen electric light 
 Drew a pretty pencil picture 
 
 On the blackness of the night. 
 
 Iii the Library. 
 
 Library, oh regal treasure ! 
 
 Rich in profit, rich in pleasure. 
 
 Ned soon found that volumes in it 
 
 Stole each vacant hour and minute. 
 
 Once he sat — a book was lying 
 
 In his hand — with thoughts fast flying 
 
 Through his mind, of something higher, 
 
 Unknown something, something higher. 
 
 All around him books were standing ; 
 
 And he felt his soul expanding ; 
 
 And he felt his soul aspire 
 
 To the unknown something higher. 
 
 Through a cloud the sun came gleaming ; 
 
 Then as if from pleasant dreaming, 
 
 He awoke from meditation. 
 
 Looking outward on creation. 
 
 Earth was still, 'neath winter's whiteness, 
 
 Sleeping warm 'neath winter's brightness. 
 
 Snow-capped roofs in sunlight glimmered ; 
 
 Curling smoke from chimneys shimmered 
 
 Through a thousand pathways mazy 
 
 To a sky of silver — hazy. 
 
^^ In a Sod-House. 
 
 Trees were fair as fairy maiden, 
 With the snow were heavy laden. 
 In the pines with branches bending, 
 Green and white were richly blending. 
 From a twig a birdie's twitter 
 Caused the snow to fall and glitter ; 
 In the snow^ its music simple 
 Left a trace by mark and dimple. 
 Toward the sun a lakelet chosen 
 For athletics, lay unfrozen. 
 Stillness made it clearer, clearer. 
 Till it grew a perfect mirror. 
 O'er the silent waters sleeping, 
 Many leaning trees were peeping 
 In to see, with smile and ditty. 
 If their winter suits were pretty. 
 
 Ned's Flying of Short Duration. 
 
 While thus he sat with volumes standing 
 
 Thickly all around, 
 With beauty shining everywhere, 
 
 In sky and o'er the ground, 
 His roommate dropped a letter in 
 
 Ned's open, idle book. 
 A letter always made him glad. 
 
 And when a glancing look 
 Revealed a faithful debtor's name. 
 
 He felt a pleasing thrill ; 
 But this he found, and not 
 
 The looked for fifty-dollar bill : 
 
 ''Dear Sir : I'm broke ; my broomcorn sold 
 
 At twenty-three per ton. 
 My crop was good ; but better far 
 
 Are those who planted none. 
 I cannot pay ; I'm not to blame, 
 
 But much I pity you. 
 I never had a better hand 
 
 To work the summer through." 
 
A Brighter Side. ^j 
 
 Next morning when the roll was called, 
 
 No voice from Ned was heard ; 
 His seat was vacant ; such a thing 
 
 Had ne'er before occurred. 
 And when a student answered : 
 
 "Mr. Sanders left the school," 
 'Twas then the teacher quickly- struck 
 
 His name from oft' the roll. 
 
 And few again heard the name of Ned, 
 And few again ever thought of Ned, 
 And no one knew what became of Ned, 
 
 As the school went busily on. 
 And no one knew of the tears he shed, 
 And no one knew of the hopes that fled, 
 And no one knew of the heart that bled, 
 
 As the school went merrily on. 
 
 Chapter XIV. 
 
 A BRIGHTER SIDE. 
 
 Many states have heard the stories 
 
 Of the droughts in arid West ; 
 So reports are often dpubted 
 
 When the country's at its best. 
 Business then is strictly business — 
 
 Rush and push in store and shop — 
 When the price of wheat is rising 
 
 And the farmers have a crop. 
 
 There are wheat stacks by the hundred 
 
 Scattered o'er the level plain. 
 Steamers pufling, threshers humming, 
 
 Many wagons hauling grain. 
 Money there from many countries — 
 
 Ev'ry thing is at the top. 
 When the price of wheat is rising 
 
 And the farmers have a crop. 
 
^6 hi a Sod-IIou$e. 
 
 Chapter XV. 
 
 THE OTHER COUSIN* 
 
 Success. 
 
 By many years of study. Will 
 
 Had won a worthy name. 
 His early hopes were realized ; 
 
 His college honors came, — 
 A prize in oratory and 
 
 Another in debate, 
 A class address Commencement Day, — 
 
 A college graduate. 
 
 In school the many studies 
 
 Gave him many worlds of thought. 
 In histor}^, the greatest world, 
 
 Was where his mind most wrought. 
 It showed a stage of players, clear 
 
 From Babylon to Rome ; 
 From Rome, extending westward past 
 
 His Illinois home. 
 
 And men of other ages, who 
 
 Long since in graves were hurled, 
 Are living actors on this stage 
 
 That reaches round the world. 
 'Twas Man, the actor. Will, the student. 
 
 Liked to read about : 
 Man, Man ! the greatest study, one 
 
 Can find in school or out. 
 
 Will studied dead men living, and 
 
 He studied living dead. 
 Because so much he studied Man. 
 
 His heart kept growth with head. 
 
The Other Cousifi. ^j 
 
 He studied economic thought, 
 
 Read many volumes through ; 
 
 And ev'ry day he studied Man, 
 His heart more tender grew. 
 
 A Doleful Song. 
 
 Will saw the miner in the mine, 
 
 Mechanic in the shop ; 
 He saw the plowman plow and sow 
 
 And gather in the crop. 
 In the spring, in the autumn, in sunny June, 
 
 When the days were short, when the days 
 were long. 
 So many were singing this doleful tune, 
 . So many were singing this doleful song : 
 
 In the garden where Eve 
 
 Was so quick to believe 
 A lie by the ruler of Hades, 
 
 The good Lord did declare 
 
 That no man anywhere 
 Could spend all his time in the shade. 
 
 But some, this law don't suit. 
 While the masses hard are working. 
 Then a few are always shirking. 
 And in shady places lurking. 
 
 To get the richest fruit. 
 So we toil, toil, toil 
 Till our bones need oil ; 
 That our big rich neighbor 
 May be free from labor." 
 
 Will often saw the unemployed 
 
 Workmen on the street. 
 He read their lives — an open book 
 
 In primer type complete. 
 In the spring, in the autumn, in sunny June, 
 
48 In a Sod- House. 
 
 When the days were short, when the days 
 were long, 
 Their lives were singing this doleful tune ; 
 Their lives were singing this doleful song : 
 
 " 'Tis the panic has spread 
 
 Until business is dead : 
 One half our employers are broke ; 
 
 And the banks has shut down 
 
 On all cash in our town, 
 The costliest kind of a joke. 
 
 Ten jobs for twenty men ! 
 Half the spindles ceased their turning ; 
 Half the lights have ceased their burning ; 
 Half the men have lost their earning ; 
 
 How can we find work then? 
 We must tramp, tramp, tramp, 
 Till in graves we cramp ; 
 We can't labor, labor, labor 
 For our big rich neighbor." 
 
 Professor Sanders. 
 
 A few years passed ; Will Sanders held 
 
 The chair of history 
 And economics in an eastern 
 
 University. 
 When one successful year was o'er. 
 
 His business couldn't wait ; 
 But called him to his boyhood home. 
 
 To settle the estate. 
 
 'Twas here his mind reverted to 
 
 His loving cousin Ned. 
 The clover in the pasture where 
 
 So many cattle fed. 
 The orchard, river, wood, and mill, 
 
 The birds so happy wed. 
 All spoke or sang of boyhood and 
 
 His loving cousin Ned. 
 
The Other CousiJi. 4q 
 
 "I hear that Ned is living yet 
 
 Upon the Kansas plain, 
 Where crops so often fail because 
 
 Of wind and lack of rain. 
 And I must go to see him in 
 
 His little western home. 
 I'll write today and tell him when 
 
 To look for me to come." 
 
 The day Will reached the place to take 
 
 The stage, to leave the train, 
 He didn't find as he had thought 
 
 A barren windy plain. 
 The sky was blue ; the sun was bright ; 
 
 The air was still, yet free ; 
 And June had spread a carpet green 
 
 As far as m?n could see. 
 
 But soon the driver hinted that 
 
 It wasn't always so ; 
 And said, "A tenderfoot had better 
 
 Go a little slow." 
 The sweetest prairie flower was 
 
 The cactus in the grass. 
 This song Will's heart kept singing to 
 
 The cactus in the grass : 
 
 "Little pin-cushion cactus 
 So near by the road ; 
 
 Little pin-cushion cactus, 
 Stay here by the road. 
 
 "Little pin-cushion cactus 
 Close down in the grass ; 
 
 Little pin-cushion cactus, 
 A crown in the grass. 
 
 "Little pin-cushion cactus. 
 Red bloom among thorns ; 
 
 Little pin-cushion cactus, 
 Perfume among thorns. 
 
JO In a Sod-House. 
 
 "Little pin-cushion cactus. 
 Is seen on the Plains ; 
 
 Little pin-cushion cactus, 
 A queen on the Plains.'^ 
 
 Will's Philosophy. 
 
 The visit o'er, Will took the train — 
 
 The day again was mild — 
 And started for his eastern home 
 
 To meet his wife and child. 
 A happy man, a happy man ; 
 
 The day again was mild ; 
 The train w^as swiftly taking him 
 
 To meet his wife and child. 
 
 Will sat beside the w^indow as 
 
 The train w^as speeding way, 
 And gazing at the smiling plain, 
 
 The beauty of the day ; 
 Yet thinking of his loving wife, 
 
 His child with rich locks curled, — 
 The dearest wife, the sweetest child 
 
 In all the wide, wide world. 
 
 But now and then another picture 
 
 Flashed across his mind, 
 A picture of his cousin Ned 
 
 So Idtelv left behind. 
 "I see him in his boyhood years ; 
 
 I see him in his youth, 
 With ardent thirst for usefulness, 
 
 A symbol fair of truth. 
 
 "Again a simple hearted man 
 
 In poverty I see ; 
 No wife to comfort and to cheer, 
 
 No child upon his knee ; 
 
The Other Con sin ^ jr 
 
 Excessive toil and lack of school 
 Has badl}' dwarfed his mind ; 
 
 Yet happier than if he knew 
 How narrow he's confined, 
 
 ^'Tve studied men for many years ; 
 
 I've read their lives with care. 
 My observation bids me this 
 
 Important truth declare : 
 It takes two things to make a man -, 
 
 First, self-activity ; 
 No less important is the second, 
 
 Opportunity. 
 
 "Ned had the first the same as I ; 
 
 The second was denied. 
 Misfortune's wave has buried him — 
 
 He sank beneath the tide. 
 Philanthropists in ev'ry land 
 
 Some day will teach this truth : 
 A chance for life, societv 
 
 Must give to helpless youth. 
 
 " 'Twill lead humanit}' to higher 
 
 Planes than we have trod, 
 And pay an honest debt men owe 
 
 Posterity and God. 
 Political economy 
 
 Must wear a newer gown : 
 Must clothe itself in ethics. 
 
 Lay its tattered garments down ; 
 
 "Must look for all the rights of man 
 
 Not weary men with 'Trade' ; 
 Must help repeal the 'Iron Law', 
 
 For such in sin is made." — 
 Thus speeding to his loving wife, 
 
 His child with rich locks curled ; 
 The dearest wife, the sweetest child 
 
 In all the wide, wide world. 
 
5^ In a Sod-House. 
 
 Chapter XVI, 
 
 HUNTING WORK. 
 
 Two hundred miles away from home, 
 
 Rich farms on ev'r}^ side. 
 The wheat in stack, the cornfields green 
 
 Extending far and wide ; 
 With weary limbs and blistered feet. 
 
 With heartaches over-run, 
 Ned sat beneath a cottonwood 
 
 To shelter off the sun. 
 
 "Dam'd bum, you wouldn't work if you had 
 
 work." — 
 These words too vile for paper white, 
 
 Too black to write with ink. 
 Were hurled at Ned, that day, by one 
 
 Who didn't feel nor think. 
 Ned thought how many weary miles 
 
 He'd tramped from town to town. 
 This epithet so vile, he now 
 
 Must bear for sitting down, — 
 
 For stopping while the burning sun 
 
 Was sinking in the west. 
 For stopping while his aching heart 
 
 And limbs were taking rest. 
 And soon hot tears were streaming o'er 
 
 His sun-tanned, dusty face, — 
 An honest man in search of work 
 
 Now feeling deep disgrace. 
 
 And then he started down the lane 
 
 And stopped beside a brook. 
 To wash the dust and tears away — 
 
 Drive oft the wretched look. 
 
Hunting Worh. JJ 
 
 A wagon rattled down the road ; 
 
 The driver hallooed out : 
 "Say, Stranger, don't you wan't a job? 
 
 I see you're big and stout." 
 
 So many, many times had Ned 
 
 Inquired or asked for work. 
 That when he'd ask, a cloud of fears 
 
 Would all around him lurk. 
 His heart would sicken, while his face 
 
 Would redder grow with shame ; 
 And e'en a look would censure him, 
 
 Would load him down with blame. 
 
 O happy man ! that evening when 
 
 A driver hallooed out : 
 "Say, Stranger, don't you want a job? 
 
 I see your're big and stout." 
 Those simple words had driven clouds 
 
 Of deep despair away, 
 Brought thrills of joy, and ushered in 
 
 Another shining day. 
 
 And Ned began to cutting corn 
 
 With seven other men. 
 The corn was thick ; the workmen couldn't 
 
 Understand it when 
 They saw the stranger cut his row 
 
 And keep so far ahead. 
 All wondered why he worked so hard ; 
 
 All wondered why, but Ned. 
 
 And this is why he cut so fast : 
 
 He now and then would think 
 Of those vile words, too vile to speak, 
 
 Too black to write with ink. 
 And ev'ry time he thought of them 
 
 His walking faster grew ; 
 And ev'ry time he thought of them 
 
 His cornknife faster flew. 
 
j^ lu a Sod-House, 
 
 He kept his job for many weeks^ 
 
 Till autumn work was done. 
 Of bitter days in hunting work. 
 
 He often spoke with fun. 
 With fift\^ dollars in his purse 
 
 One bright November morn, 
 A cheerful man, he started home, 
 
 He left the fields of corn. 
 
 Chapter XVH. 
 
 A LETTER FROM FATHER AND MOTHER. 
 
 "Our only Son, Our loving Son : 
 
 Your letter came today. 
 We're glad to hear that you are well 
 
 And back at home to stay. 
 You wrote of friends and neighbors old, 
 
 That you would like to see : 
 There's some are rich and live in town, 
 
 And some are poor as we. 
 
 "You well remember how we managed 
 
 Bad and got in debt. 
 And but for that, our son would 'been 
 
 A living with us yet. 
 Or if you'd rather gone to town, 
 
 Then we'd have gone there too. 
 We'll worr}^ not, but live in hope 
 
 We yet may live with you. 
 
 "Unless the slough is miry or 
 
 Unless we have a load. 
 We never pass our dear old home ; 
 
 We take another road : 
 
A Letter from Father and Mother. 55 
 
 Red apples in the window and 
 
 A boy upon the street, — 
 They always make him hungry when 
 
 He knows he cannot eat. 
 
 *'We've thought and talked a month or more 
 
 Of something hard to do : 
 To write and see if we could get 
 
 A little cash from you. 
 Your mother isn't very well ; 
 
 We've had the doctor come ; 
 And year by year the rent has grown 
 
 To be a larger sum. 
 
 *'But if you cannot send it, we 
 
 Will love you just the same. 
 We lost our home ; that drove you off; 
 
 'Tis we who are to blame. 
 So do not worry ; let us hope 
 
 We'll sometime own another, 
 And then our only son can live 
 
 With father and with mother." 
 
^6 hi a Sod' House. 
 
 Chapter XVIII. 
 
 NED'S ANSWER. 
 
 "Dear Parents : I'm so sad to hear 
 
 That mother isn't well ; 
 I fear that she may have another 
 
 Long and weakly spell. 
 I'm glad to send you money now, 
 
 A hundred-dollar note, 
 A noble gift from cousin Will, 
 
 He sent when last he wrote. 
 
 *'He said he hoped that I would plan 
 
 To go to school again ; 
 I told him I was sure to go, 
 
 But couldn't tell just when. 
 Another thing my cousin wrote, 
 
 Which made me cry with joy : 
 'I owe a debt to you, dear Ned, 
 
 For kindness when a boy.' 
 
 "Dear parents, you remember well 
 
 The little testament. 
 You gave me on the parting day, 
 
 When first from home I went. 
 I carry it where e'er I go. 
 
 And read it o'er and o'er ; 
 Thougrh manv leaves are worn and brown, 
 
 I love it more and more. 
 
 "I never vet have told you that 
 
 My lungs are growing weak ; 
 It's hard for me to think about. 
 
 And harder yet to speak. 
 I've slept out doors in weather cold, 
 
 Much wheat I've pitched through dust ; 
 With proper care, my lungs will soon 
 
 Grow strong again, I trust. 
 
NecPs Answer. 57 
 
 "Dear parents, do not blame yourselves 
 
 Because I'm not with you ; 
 If I had managed well, then rich 
 
 My home, you in it too. 
 'Round here the men who manage well, 
 
 Whose deeds are more than words. 
 Have homes with fields and gardens, 
 
 Pastures wide with flocks and herds. 
 
 "I had as good a chance as Will, 
 
 Could learn as fast as he ; 
 But he is far above me now ; — 
 
 The fault is all with me. 
 If I had only stayed in school 
 
 Instead of working out, — 
 But why reflect ; henceforth I'll 
 
 Manage well, no doubt. 
 
 "I've heard from Colorado where 
 
 There's work that one can do ; 
 And so I'll leave my home again. 
 
 Not stay the winter through. 
 The avalanche came down the mountain 
 
 Side with crash and crack ; 
 For miles debris and snow have buried 
 
 Deep the railroad track. 
 
 "Tonight I'll take a west bound train 
 
 And have a pleasant ride ; 
 Tomorrow I'll be shov'ling snow 
 
 Along the mountain side. 
 Next Sunday I shall write again 
 
 And give you m}- address. 
 With love, goodby. Let's ever live 
 
 In hope and happiness," 
 
/// a Sod- House. 
 
 Chapter XIX« 
 
 SLEEPING IN A FREIGHT-CAR. 
 
 Before the sun had sunk behind the cliff, 
 
 Ned's heart had failed ; his limbs were growing 
 
 stiff. 
 Clothes wet and freezing, then he worked no more ; 
 And then with blankets round him on the floor, 
 Lying in a freight-car. 
 Lying in a frieght-car 
 On the mountain side. 
 
 Alone, no fire, in cold and shivering, 
 He lay with heart and lip both quivering. 
 With deadly phlegm, his lungs were filling fast ; 
 And slower, slower, slower minutes passed, — 
 
 Weeping in a freight-car. 
 
 Weeping in a freight-car 
 On the mountain side. 
 
 The toilers kindly watched him through the night ; 
 His mind oft took a strange delirious flight ; 
 At times he asked them if 'twas night or day ; 
 And thus he wore the tardy hours away, 
 
 Moaning in a freight-car, 
 
 Moaning in a freight-car 
 On the mountain side. 
 
 These words, "I'm going back to school again," 
 He spoke, but none knew what he meant ;and then, 
 "M}^ head ! — oh mother,help ! — I cannot breathe !" 
 And thus he lay with wretched bed beneath, 
 Dying in a freight-car. 
 Dying in a freight-car 
 On the mountain, sk)^ ^ 
 
 1 
 
Sleepi7ig in a Freight-Car. 59 
 
 Before the moon had sunk behind the cliff, 
 Ned's heart was still, his limbs were cold and still. 
 His dear old parents many miles away 
 Knew not of Ned, their onl}^ son, that day, 
 
 Sleeping in a freight-car, 
 
 Sleeping in a freight-car 
 On the mountain side. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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