Glass 
 Book. 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
SAMUEL OLDHAM 
 
POEMS AND 
 HISTORICAL PAPERS 
 
 BY 
 
 SAMUEL OLDHAM 
 ii 
 
 WRITTEN 
 
 DURING AN ACTIVE BUSINESS 
 
 AND POLITICAL LIFE 
 
 PRESS OF THE COURIER COMPANY 
 
 ZANESVILLE. OHIO 
 
 1912 
 
111*- 
 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 BIOGRAPHY 1 
 
 DEDICATION 6 
 
 MEMORIES 7 
 
 THE TREASURE 8 
 
 THE RIVER OF TIME 9 
 
 AGE 12 
 
 MY ROSE JENNETTE 14 
 
 MY LOVE AND I 16 
 
 BETWEEN THE WORLDS 18 
 
 WHERE THE ROSES DWELL 20 
 
 THY BROTHER 23 
 
 WE ARE NEVER ALONE 25 
 
 THE DYING YEAR 27 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL 28 
 
 THE DAYS OF SIXTY-ONE 29 
 
 A NIGHT STORM 33 
 
 JUBILEE BELLS 38 
 
 I. O. O. F. MOXAHALA LODGE 41 
 
 WHAT IS LIFE? 43 
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL LAND 44 
 
 THE HOMELESS 45 
 
 JESUS' MOTHER 47 
 
 THE WONDERFUL STORY 48 
 
 WAITING 50 
 
 LIFE 51 
 
 SHADOWS 52 
 
 PLEASANT VALLEY 53 
 
 THE BROOK 55 
 
 THE MUSKINGUM 57 
 
LINCOLN 59 
 
 MANILA 61 
 
 FAITH 63 
 
 WHO ARE MY NEIGHBORS 64 
 
 THANKFULNESS 66 
 
 AUTUMN LIFE 68 
 
 OLD FRIENDS 70 
 
 "ALL IS VANITY" 71 
 
 JUSTICE 73 
 
 "MEMORY" 76 
 
 A FRAGMENT 81 
 
 THE SPRING 83 
 
 SUMMER 85 
 
 MY MOTHER 86 
 
 THE SNOW FLAKE 88 
 
 THE SEASON 90 
 
 A KISS 91 
 
 HOME 92 
 
 THE SMALLEST A BLESSING 94 
 
 SOMETHING BETTER COMING 95 
 
 AUGUSTUS MOORE 97 
 
 THE GOOD SHEPHERD 98 
 
 ONWARD TOILING 100 
 
 THE BRIDE 102 
 
 THE DEAD YEARS 104 
 
 REST 106 
 
 UNDER THE SNOW 108 
 
 THE VILLAGE MILLER 110 
 
 EQUAL RIGHTS 112 
 
 WILLIE 114 
 
 LOVE IS DEAD 115 
 
 EVER FLITTING 117 
 
 THE BIG SHIP CANAL 119 
 
 ANARCHY 120 
 
 THE TO-DATE WOMAN 122 
 
 THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 125 
 
 THE OHIO COUNTRY 139 
 
A BRIEF BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THE 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL OLDHAM. 
 
 Samuel Oldham was born near Cambridge, 
 Guernsey County, Ohio, on the 12th day of July, 
 1833, and died in Zanesville, Ohio, on the 31st day 
 of December, 1911. 
 
 He was the oldest of three children born to 
 Robert Oldham by his marriage to his second wife, 
 whose maiden name was Jane Risher. 
 
 In the year 1838 the family moved to Delaware 
 County, Ohio, about three miles west of Middle- 
 town, on the. Scioto River. Here the family suf- 
 fered all the privations incident to the settlement 
 and development of a new country. At that time 
 many sections of the country were vast forests and 
 covered with a dense growth of underbrush. The 
 land laid very low, and generally level and, ap- 
 parently, with no possibility of drainage. During 
 the spring time and early summer much of it was 
 covered with water. Later in the summer when 
 the water dried up and the rank growth of vegeta- 
 tion began to decay, ague and billious and malarial 
 fevers were very prevalent, and fortunate indeed 
 was the person that escaped being afflicted with 
 these distressing maladies. Under these adverse 
 conditions the family struggled along for several 
 years in trying to maintain an existence. There were 
 no railroads, no markets, and but little money, and 
 the people had to live entirely upon their own 
 resources. 
 
BIOGRAPHY 
 
 As might be expected, under such conditions, 
 educational advantages were exceedingly limited. 
 The rudiments of an education were acquired in 
 a log school house — puncheon (logs split and 
 hewed) floor and seats, and greased paper for win- 
 dows. The paper was greased so as to make it 
 impervious to the rains. 
 
 In the year 1849 both father and mother passed 
 to the Great Beyond, not more than a month in- 
 tervening between their deaths. The three children 
 were thus left orphans. The two younger children 
 were cared for by relatives in another part of the 
 state, but Samuel, the subject of this sketch, re- 
 solved to carve out his own fortune. Packing all 
 his belongings in a bandana handkerchief he swung 
 it across his shoulder, on a stick, and started out on 
 foot for Zanesville. On arriving at Zanesville his 
 first employment was on a farm, owned by Mr. 
 Lawhead, several miles down the Muskingum River. 
 He remained on the farm, however, but a short 
 time. He then returned to Zanesville, and, for 
 some time, was employed as a clerk by John Alter 
 and afterward was in the employ of H. J. Somers 
 & Co. Later he engaged in business with John 
 Drone, who is still a resident of this city. He went 
 out as suttler in the early part of the war, in the 
 122nd Ohio Volunteer Infantry. After his return 
 he became the local editor of the Zanesville Cour- 
 ier. Early in the seventies he was appointed City 
 Clerk of Zanesville, in which capacity he served for 
 a number of years. Subsequently he was elected 
 County Auditor of Muskingum County. The last 
 twenty odd years of his life was spent as Joint 
 
BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Rate Inspector for all the railroads centering at 
 Zanesville. 
 
 Amid the multiplicity of cares of political and 
 business life, he never lost sight of the one supreme 
 purpose of his life — that of which he was denied 
 in his boyhood days — the acquisition of knowledge, 
 — education. Every spare moment was assiduously 
 employed with this object in view. His reading 
 was varied and extensive, and as an evidence of his 
 careful, methodical research, reference is here made 
 to a history of "The North-West Territory," one 
 of the many papers read before the "Muskingum 
 County Pioneer Society," which is appended to this 
 volume. Naturally of a poetical turn of mind he 
 was wont to give expression to his thoughts in 
 verse. It is almost inconceivable how he found 
 time during his waking hours, in consequence of his 
 close application to business, to write so many 
 poems, on varied subjects, a portion of which is 
 presented in this little book. 
 
 A firm believer in true r.eligion — in the Father- 
 hood of God and the Brotherhood of man — the 
 Christlike spirit is breathed forth in many of these 
 poems. Mention might be made of the following, 
 as exhibiting his feelings of the broad catholic 
 spirit of universal brotherhood: 
 
 Oh, have you never felt, my brother, 
 
 The touch of shores and things unseen; 
 
 Of the blessedness that's coming, 
 
 The hopefulness that lays between? 
 
 Don't you feel the kindly Sower 
 
 Has sown some golden grains for you, 
 
BIOGRAPHY 
 
 And the reaping time is coming 
 
 If we are only, only true? 
 Oh, surely somewhere by and by, 
 
 There is something better for you and I. 
 
 The poem entitled, Thankfulness, gives expres- 
 sion to his firm belief in an Overruling Providence 
 
 Who orders all things well. 
 
 Praise ye the Lord! Magnify His holy name; 
 
 His loving kindness everywhere proclaim, 
 
 For He hath blessed us from His abundant store, 
 
 And His mercies touch us ever more and more. 
 
 His tribute to motherhood in the poem entitled, 
 Jesus' Mother, is worthy a place in the affections 
 of every mother: 
 
 None so deeply truly human, 
 None so sweetly womanly woman 
 As Mary, Jesus' Mother. 
 
 The almost sacred rememberance of his child- 
 hood hours is expressed in the poem entitled, 
 Home: 
 
 The home of my kindred with tears I recall, 
 For the silence of death is over them all; 
 Only a memory is all that remains, 
 Of joy or sorrow, of pleasure or pain. 
 
 His geniality of spirit and mirthfulness are 
 frequently seen in many of these poems, notably 
 in the one entitled, The To-Date Woman: 
 
BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Was it folly or fate 
 
 That a "woman to date/' 
 
 Bloomers that so sorely distress her? 
 
 When old Mother Eve 
 
 Without bodice or sleeve, 
 
 Found leaves sufficient to dress her. 
 
 With these quotations indicating the general 
 trend of his thoughts, these poems are published, 
 in book form, at the suggestion of many friends 
 and relatives. 
 
 This biographical sketch would be incomplete 
 without mentioning the fact that Samuel Oldham 
 was twice married. His first wife's maiden name 
 was Elizabeth Gibson, and by this union there was 
 born one child, Minnie. Both mother and daughter 
 died many years ago. His second marriage was 
 with Margaret Robertson, and by this union there 
 are now living Mrs. G. A. Kurz, Georgia E. Old- 
 ham, Mattie S. Oldham, and Samuel T. Oldham, all 
 of whom are residents of this city. 
 
 In concluding this chapter perhaps a word 
 might be said in reference to the other two child- 
 ren, spoken of elsewhere. Phebe Jane, the young- 
 est, lives on Market street and has been a resident 
 of this city nearly all her life. The only brother, 
 Thomas R., now resides in New York city; and 
 in this imperfect manner has tried to pay his tribute 
 of love to the memory of a dear, departed brother. 
 
 April 20th, 1912. 
 
 THOMAS R. OLDHAM. 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 To the devoted wife who was his daily com- 
 panion, counselor and advisor for more than forty 
 years — who shared with him his joys and sorrows, 
 his adversities and triumphs — and upon whom he 
 leaned with filial devotion, as he neared the end of 
 his earthly pilgrimage, this little volume is affec- 
 tionately dedicated. 
 
 By his brother, T. R. OLDHAM. 
 
MEMORIES 
 
 MEMORIES. 
 
 /^ ENTLE as the breath of the south wind, 
 ^-* From the shores of a slumberous sea, 
 With the song of birds in the flowers, 
 
 With the rustle of wings as they flee, 
 Come the memories of those who have been — 
 
 Friendships death severed in pain, 
 From the far off years of the passing 
 
 They touch life's golden chain. 
 As a luminous glow in the night 
 
 When darkness has folded the earth — 
 A quiver and a flash of light, 
 
 That lives and dies in its birth; 
 So come the faces of those who have been — 
 
 Friendships death severed long years — 
 From the world of the formless unseen 
 
 We meet as we parted in tears. 
 What joy to our hearts if regrets 
 
 Have not been sown to be gathered in tears, 
 When memory brings back as a vision, 
 
 The faces and friendships of years. 
 We wake from the trance and are lonely, 
 
 For those we have seen are not here, 
 And of all that has passed there only 
 
 Remains a memory in tears. 
 
THE TREASURE 
 
 THE TREASURE. 
 
 IF WE would but daily gather 
 The kindly things that meet us one by one — 
 All missioned to us from the still unseen, 
 And bind them in our hearts together, 
 As pearls of price that have been won — 
 Laying them in our lives the days between; 
 What a priceless treasure we would gather! 
 
 If we would then let them lead us, 
 Lead us whither we cannot know the way, 
 Our footsteps, too, would surely follow, 
 Until the mountain tops would greet us 
 With the sweet beauty of the shining day — 
 Not the gloom and blackness of the hollow 
 Asleep between the ridges on life's way. 
 
 Kindness slays the self within us, 
 
 In goodness, too, its work would surely show 
 
 And our hearts would feel the wideness growing 
 
 As the gentle hand would lead us 
 
 To higher and better lives we know — 
 
 As the kindly spirit inward flowing 
 
 Teach our hearts to feel another's woe. 
 
 Loving, each would be a brother, 
 Touching all the great heart of the unseen; 
 Our lives would be of sweetest beauty, 
 Helpful and tender to another, 
 In all the ways that lay between 
 Ourselves and highest, noblest duty, 
 A oneness with the All Unseen. 
 
 Zanesville, O., March, 1898. 
 
THE RIVER OF TIME 
 
 THE RIVER OF TIME. 
 
 'T^HERE is a river, a wonderful river, 
 ■"* It is called the river of time; 
 It flows by the shore of every land 
 And is known in every clime. 
 From a far away morn it came 
 When sin, made man a slave, 
 And left in his heart the crimson shame. 
 The seal of death and the grave; 
 Then came this river, this wonderful river, 
 It is known as the river of time. 
 
 It is a joy and a sorrow 
 
 For today and tomorrow, 
 And will be as long as there's mercy and crime. 
 
 It passes the homes of the rich and the poor 
 
 And the lordly palace of sin. 
 
 In mercy it opens the prison door 
 
 For the anguished hearts within, 
 
 It gives to virtue a high renown 
 
 And humbles the proudest of earth. 
 
 It tears from the face of king and clown 
 
 The mask of wit and of mirth. 
 
 It brings the paleness of death to the brow 
 
 Alike of the coward and knave, 
 
 The priest who has forgotten his vow. 
 
 For the world that makes him a slave. 
 
 The hypocrite who seeks to deceive 
 
 The humble and lowly of life, 
 
 And the miser whose heart is agrieved. 
 
 For the riches gathered in strife. 
 
10 THE RIVER OF TIME 
 
 Many a wreck is on the shores of the river, 
 And many another there will be 
 Ere the sun withhold his quiver 
 Or the flow shall waste to the sea. 
 Castles we built in the long ago — 
 Hopes that our hearts once cherished, 
 And a thousand dear things that we know 
 On the sun bright shores have perished. 
 
 On the shore where we are camping today 
 There comes as a dream in the night 
 The faces of friends who have gone away, 
 Scenes too, that thrill us with delight. 
 The old home, and the orchard in green 
 Where the apples hung ripe and mellow, 
 The brook in the meadow hid in between 
 The willows and cowslips yellow. 
 
 The old arm chair, it was our father's seaf, 
 The rocker, 'twas dear mother's chair, 
 Where oft as children we knelt at her feet, 
 And repeated our evening prayer. 
 Little shoes and stockings we see, 
 We sometimes hear the patter of feet, 
 And we think of the home over the sea 
 Where the pure and holy meet. 
 
 Where it meets the sea there's a city in white, 
 
 With mansions of marbles fair — 
 
 Spires and towers aglow in the light 
 
 And granite walls, costly and rare; 
 
 We walk in the streets of the city — 
 
 The roses make fragrant the air; 
 
THE RIVER OF TIME 11 
 
 The silence our hearts move to pity, 
 For there is never a dweller there. 
 
 They all have passed the bounds of the scoffing. 
 
 Where the shore lines have faded away 
 
 Out beyond in the deep is the offing 
 
 Where there is never a night or a day, 
 
 We see the white sails for the crossing, 
 
 Hopes wings in the breath of the sea, 
 
 And whither they go there's rejoicing, 
 
 For the hearts of the pure are free. 
 
12 AGE 
 
 AGE. 
 
 OH! HOPE of roseate hue, 
 When life was in the morn, 
 When milk-eyed eve was far away 
 Beyond the crescent horn; 
 When silver stars lit up the sky. 
 And golden morn was passing by — 
 When all was light, while all was bright 
 To our young hearts within the light, 
 The path beyond us lay, 
 So clear and bright the way. 
 
 The years have gathered on us now, 
 Age hath wrinkled many a brow, 
 Time has dotted o'er with care, 
 Dark lines diverging everywhere, 
 In life so brief, so short, so frail, 
 Woe hath left many a trail. 
 We see no more with eagle eye, 
 Fame's bright temple in the sky, 
 Upon the hill which long ago 
 We passed with footsteps slow, 
 While now beyond, our youthful sun 
 Sinks slowly down, our race near run, 
 Our star is paling in the sky, 
 The end is drawing very nigh. 
 
 Hope is dead, and what are we 
 When hope is gone, and yet to be 
 Alive, and still so dead, 
 Youth and hope forever fled, 
 
AGE 13 
 
 A shell, and within it life, 
 
 A soulless waning strife, 
 
 A meaning, moaning sea, 
 
 A something gone and yet to be, 
 
 A wreck, full of regrets, 
 
 For what we are and cannot be; 
 
 A something, aye, a frail young flower, 
 
 Aged and withered in an hour, 
 
 A sunbeam floating in the air, 
 
 Lost and driven anywhere; 
 
 A sound so sweet, born of Heaven, 
 
 Yet into endless discord riven, 
 
 We wait the passing of the storm, 
 
 We wait the coming of the morn; 
 
 We wait the gathering of the shrouds, 
 
 We wait the passing of the clouds. 
 
14 MY ROSE JENNETTE 
 
 MY ROSE JENNETTE. 
 
 OH BEAUTIFUL is my Rose Jennette, 
 And all who know her say dearly so, 
 For me she is the most darling pet, 
 My beautiful, bright eyed, Rose Jennette, 
 In all the world where e're T go. 
 
 There's a wealth of sunshine in her heart, 
 And dearly I love and prize her so, 
 For all the world I would not part 
 One kindly thought within her heart, 
 My Rose Jennette, my darling, O! 
 
 Her lips are red as June cherries, 
 And a smile that is dear to all, 
 Her cheeks are as fair as a fairy's, 
 Bloom roses as bright as the berries 
 That cluster and crimson the fall. 
 
 And her eyes, as the dew drop, so bright, 
 With the wealth of love in her heart, 
 They sparkle with joy in my delight, 
 Or hide in grief as dark as the night, 
 When sorrow comes over my heart. 
 
 She is proud of my love, and she knows 
 That my heart is all her own — 
 As the zephyr that kisses the rose, 
 And wafts its breath wherever it goes, 
 The wealth of her love is known. 
 
MY ROSE JENNETTE 15 
 
 Of all that's true what can be truer 
 Than the love of my darling's heart? 
 Of all that's sure, what can be surer, 
 Is ought so pure, what can be purer, 
 Than the love of a true woman's heart? 
 Then what care I if the world grows cold, 
 If it chills not the life of my love? 
 Or what care I for it's wealth untold, 
 With a love as pure, and better than gold 
 As bright as the angels above. 
 
 Zanesville, July, 1869. 
 
16 MY LOVE AND I 
 
 MY LOVE AND I. 
 
 \ H NIGH ten years had passed us by — 
 ■*^- Ten years of life had come and gone 
 Ten years of joy, my Love and I, 
 Had made our hearts so kindly one; 
 Ten years of life, when love was law, 
 And duty was love without a flaw, 
 May came with its sweet blush of bloom, 
 And a shadow fell across the way, 
 My life to darken with its gloom, 
 Her's to light to immortal day. 
 Ah! she looking up in beautiful love, 
 Trusting in faith to the Father above, 
 She looking over, beyond, and afar, 
 Where hope shone like a glittering star; 
 And I looking back through the closing door, 
 Where the shadow lay, the ten years o'er. 
 
 By the river side we parted, 
 I and my Love, the angel hearted — 
 And, Oh, God of life the giver, 
 Blessed be Thy name forever, 
 Angel voices were on the river, 
 Loved ones, too, on the other side. 
 And from that bright, celestial shore, 
 Divinest melody came sweetly o'er, 
 Thrilling through life's changing tide — 
 In bliss ecstatic evermore. 
 She waiting, Oh! so glad hearted, 
 Waiting, waiting, till we parted. 
 Waiting when the angel came, 
 
MY LOVE AND I 17 
 
 In faith, and love and gladness, 
 I in sorrow, grief and sadness, 
 Bitter anguish without name, 
 Waiting when the angel came. 
 
 By the river side we parted, 
 
 I and my love, the angel hearted, 
 
 And life's golden chain was broken, 
 
 fnto shining shreds — a token, 
 
 And she a spirit passed within the gates of glory 
 
 evermore. 
 Waiting in the Heavenly portal, 
 Within the Home of life immortal, 
 Where angel feet make music over all the starry 
 
 floor, 
 Waiting in bliss, Oh, my meeting, 
 Waiting my coming with a greeting, 
 And there our Souls shall be one forevermore. 
 
18 BETWEEN THE WORLDS 
 
 BETWEEN THE WORLDS. 
 
 TNTO THE darkness, far out in the night, 
 
 •*■ Into the deep where the curfew bell 
 
 Rings out o'er the sea, and the swell 
 
 Of life is borne as a sounding knell 
 
 To the foam edge that girdles the night — 
 
 Phantoms swim round in strange delight, 
 
 And weird forms appal, or compel 
 
 Us to ponder and think o'er life well, 
 
 As we stand here to-night. 
 
 The moon's glimmer through the mid of night, 
 Like a sheen of silver in the frosty air, 
 Discloses the thick darkness hovering there 
 With its thousand forms of affright, 
 That thrill us with terror and awe 
 As we stand in the shadows and light, 
 Of two worlds in the night. 
 
 Here and there thickly studded stand, 
 
 As light houses on the shoals, to be 
 
 Warnings, set up on the land 
 
 For those who still sail on life's sea, 
 
 Ghostly, milk white, shining tombs, 
 
 Seeming to us as entreating dooms, 
 
 Raised o'er lov'd ones slumbering there, 
 
 In all the world without a thought or care 
 
 Their hearts stilled! oh, long ago, 
 
 And o'er them flitting the white fingered snow, 
 
 Weaving for their lives a robe of white, 
 
 Between two worlds, out of the night. 
 
BETWEEN THE WORLDS 19 
 
 Here is the deep all must pass, 
 And these are the mile stones by the way, 
 Gathered down at the ford at last — 
 Each one notes the year and day 
 Some soul went down to the sea, 
 And on a shining bark sailed away, 
 Guided and guarded by truer hands 
 Than ever furled a sail on ocean strands. 
 
 Here, life's dream of the throbbing heart, 
 In the breathing world finds its counterpart; 
 Here is the ford of the deep Red Sea, 
 Yonder, the Bethlehem of Galilee, 
 And weary souls pass from darkness to life, 
 Going, the day long, from out of the strife — 
 We hear their steps on the golden shores, 
 And the dip in the sea of their shining oars 
 As they sail away in angel life. 
 
 There's but a throb between day and night, 
 Only a thrill from darkness to light — 
 The tide of life rolls down to the shore, 
 Recoils, for a moment, and then passes o'er, 
 And the Angels of light glide to and fro, 
 Over the sea in raiments of snow, 
 Messengers of peace, and guardians above, 
 From the realms of Glory and Divinest love, 
 Bearing away the meek spirits o'er, 
 Mortals in bliss to the shining shore. 
 
 Zanesville, Jan. 9, 1869. 
 
20 WHERE THE ROSES DWELL 
 
 WHERE THE ROSES DWELL. 
 
 /~\H BEAUTIFUL spirits of a beautiful clime, 
 ^-' Where the dreams of roses dwell, 
 Ye come to me at the evening time 
 
 With the chimes of the vesper bell — 
 When the threads of light in the valley of night 
 
 Are fading o'er river and dell, 
 Ye come to me in the dim twilight 
 
 From the clime where the roses dwell. 
 
 Ye come to me as silvery dreams 
 
 Through the purple mists of night, 
 Ye come to me with fleecy gleams 
 
 Of joy, and my boyhood's delight. 
 And ye cluster about me the years agone, 
 
 As stars in the arch of light, 
 And I count them o'er, one by one, 
 
 In their beauty and splendor to-night. 
 
 Each year is a wealth of joy, I know 
 
 And in each, is a germ of love, 
 Where dwells some hope of the long ago 
 
 'Neath the pitying skies above. 
 The angel of life writing faith in the heart 
 
 Of humanity bright as the morn, 
 Write pity for faith, and thus life ever bears, 
 
 Beautiful love in divinest form. 
 
 Ye bring me of home a picture fair, 
 
 The winding brook through the meadow green, 
 And the cottage by the hill side just o'er there 
 
WHERE THE ROSES DWELL 21 
 
 With the apple orchard in between, 
 The vine is climbing o'er the door, 
 
 The rippling waves play in I ween, 
 Of golden light about the floor 
 
 Betwen the living lines of green. 
 
 The sun is hieing through the leaves, 
 
 The robin piping his matin notes, 
 And in the balmy breath I breathe 
 
 The sweetest bloom of morning floats. 
 The tinkling bells ring out so clear, 
 
 And lowing herds in the pastures by. 
 The daisies' cups are filled with tears, 
 
 The brightest of the morning sky. 
 
 Father is standing at the door, 
 
 And mother, dear mother is in the hall, 
 I seem to hear upon the floor 
 
 Her lightest foot-step fall. 
 I hear her voice, it is to me 
 
 Across these years, and over all 
 They both sleep. How can it be 
 
 My name she should thus call? 
 
 A stranger, too, has crossed the sill 
 
 Long years ago. How can it be, 
 Spirits, ye are playing at will 
 
 With my poor heart and me, 
 And yet this bliss, one moment still, 
 
 Is worth the anguish of a life, 
 When disappointment comes at will 
 
 Within this bitter, struggling strife. 
 
22 WHERE THE ROSES DWELL 
 
 Years have gone, a bright sunny face 
 
 Is dwelling with me in the sc$ne, 
 With raven curls and a form of grace, 
 
 Her laughter rings out in my dream, 
 So startling and real, so life-like and true, 
 
 She seems again the bright gleam, 
 Of happy life in my boyhood I knew, 
 
 And of joy in my manhood I dream. 
 
 Oh beautiful spirits of a beautiful clime, 
 
 Where the dreams of roses lay, 
 Ye come to me at the evening time 
 
 When the hills are dark and gray — 
 When the shadows hang thick in the valley of night 
 
 Ye drive the gloom away, 
 And I live again in the beautiful light 
 
 Of the golden emerald day. 
 
THY BROTHER 23 
 
 THY BROTHER. 
 
 KINDLY, thy brother lead him down 
 By the sweet still waters of life, 
 Through pastures of living green 
 
 Where dwelleth no care or strife; 
 Where the Lord on high is the shepherd, 
 
 And in love guards the lambs of the flock, 
 Rejoicing always in your salvation, 
 For Christ, in Faith, is the rock. 
 
 Kindly, by the hand lead him down, 
 
 Where the ever wee small voice 
 Whispers love to the penitent heart, 
 
 And the shepherd of the flock rejoice. 
 Remembering no evil against him, 
 
 Thinking only of Christ, and His love 
 On Calvary shown, and His mercy now, 
 
 Which cometh down from above. 
 
 Remembering no evil against him, 
 Thy brother, though his sins all be 
 As scarlet; remember thine own, 
 
 And thy Saviour's love for thee, 
 By the hand lead him down, 
 
 Where dwelleth no evil or strife, 
 In pleasant places and pastures of green, 
 
 By the sweet still waters of life. 
 
 Jesus, the shepherd, the head of the flock, 
 
 And God, the Father of all, 
 The fountain of life, a living stream, 
 
24 THY BROTHERS 
 
 That floweth in love for all 
 The saints in glory, heirs of Christ, 
 
 Who dwell in the Lord, for aye, 
 Will welcome you home in peace and love 
 
 In that great and immortal day. 
 
 Zanesville, Aug. 21, 1868. 
 
WE ARE NEVER ALONE 25 
 
 WE ARE NEVER ALONE. 
 
 NO! NO! We are never alone, 
 Though friends all forsake and loved ones 
 are gone, 
 And hopes fade away as the mists of the morn; 
 Though poverty pinches and the world as a stone, 
 Hard hearted, we still are never alone. 
 
 Misfortunes may come, again and again, 
 
 As thick as the falling dew-drops or rain, 
 
 From the pitying skies on the golden grain, 
 
 And sorrow may thrill us through marrow and bone. 
 
 Yet we are never — Oh! no — never alone. 
 
 God pity us all, perhaps it may be 
 
 Some of us, who knoweth, what we shall see, 
 
 Wanderers, cast out on the earth, asking charity, 
 
 With not a spot anywhere we may call home, 
 
 Yet still trusting hearts, we are never alone. 
 
 And today may be dark as the shadows of night 
 
 God seeming against us in the power of His might. 
 
 And we to humanity wear an affright 
 
 In our bitterness of heart — complain and bemoan, 
 
 Yet trusting in faith we are never alone. 
 
 Oh! mortals of earth, we shall never gaze 
 On the spirit of Beauty, or know the ways, 
 He ruleth, the beginning and end of days, 
 He liveth forever — our hearts are not stone, 
 He dwelleth in them and we are never alone. 
 
26 WE ARE NEVER ALONE 
 
 Pitying angels are hovering near, 
 
 Spirits of loved ones, God knoweth how dear, 
 
 Are about us, and we need never fear, 
 
 No matter how bitter the fate we bemoan, 
 
 We have sympathy ever, and are never alone. 
 
 By and by, some day, we shall know, 
 In the spirit land whither we all shall go, 
 And see as we are seen in the world below, 
 From the center of life all round to its zone, 
 That we are never — Oh! no — never alone. 
 
THE DYING YEAR 27 
 
 THE DYING YEAR. 
 
 TICK! tick! tick! 
 With an ominous whir and click 
 The fettered hands of fate 
 Sweep over the face of time — 
 Sweep by the gate of feud and hate 
 
 For ways of love sublime, 
 
 The night looks in 
 Thro' the window casement low — 
 
 The light shines out 
 From the midnight's mellow glow 
 Of dying embers. To and fro, 
 Over the floor and wall, 
 Over the door and all, 
 Up to the rounded time face 
 Weird figures link and twine 
 Their elfish shape with mine, 
 And leave not a trace. 
 
 Tick! tick! tick! 
 With an ominous whir and click 
 Up in the chambered death face 
 Throbbing thro' the life space 
 The fretted goal is won, 
 The year is done. 
 
 Ding! Ding! Ding! 
 
 Let the echoes ring 
 
 All thro' the noisy town, 
 
 Up the streets and down 
 
 When the wild clanging bells 
 
 The joyful chorus swells, 
 
 The New Year is come. 
 
28 A CHRISTMAS CAROL 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
 
 A LL HAIL! the morn when Christ was born 
 ■**• A Christmas day across the sea; 
 He wore for us a crown of thorns, 
 And gave to all salvation free. 
 
 His wounded side a crimson tide — 
 
 His blood a ransom flowed for all; 
 
 The doors of mercy opened wide 
 For every son of Adam's fall. 
 
 His bleeding hands they broke the bands 
 
 And sundered every tie of death; 
 He took our feet from sinking sands 
 
 And gave to life a length and breadth. 
 
 Then let our hearts with joy proclaim 
 
 Our loving Lord throughout the earth; 
 
 Give praise to Him — His holy name, 
 
 The happy day that gave Him birth. 
 
 All hail; the name with one acclaim, 
 Our risen Lord this Christmas tide; 
 
 With thankful hearts praise ye His name, 
 Most precious Christ the crucified. 
 
THE DAYS OF SIXTY-ONE 29 
 
 THE DAYS OF SIXTY-ONE. 
 
 HOW WELL we all remember the days of sixty- 
 one — 
 
 We can't forget them, for the deeds that heroes 
 done; 
 
 When the war clouds gathered with a lightning's 
 fringe of steel 
 
 Along the southern borders, then our hearts were 
 made to feel; 
 
 We heard the cannons bellowings, the battle's open- 
 ing roar — 
 
 The rifle fire, fiercer than was ever known before; 
 
 We saw the soldiers gathering from mountain, hill 
 and plain 
 
 Go marching forth in stately pride and ne'er return 
 again. 
 
 Along the southland's rim go the rivers to the sea, 
 
 And further northward, gathered the legions of the 
 free; 
 
 They heard our country's call and heard it not in 
 vain 
 
 Their hearts were full of tenderness and ours were 
 full of pain; 
 
 Then came the partings too; Oh! how can we for- 
 get? 
 
 Tho' long years have passed us by, they linger with 
 us yet; 
 
 Other years may come and others still may go, 
 
 Yet we never can forget them, those partings long 
 ago. 
 
30 THE DAYS OF SIXTY-ONE 
 
 From the cities by the sea, the lakes and mountain 
 
 chains — 
 From the sunset's golden shores, and the ever wid- 
 ening plains. 
 They answered to our country's call, our brothers, 
 
 sons and sires — 
 Marching to the battle's front, along its wasting 
 
 fires; 
 They counted not the cost, that was but an idle 
 
 breath 
 When they stood a mountain wall along the ways 
 
 of death. 
 Then came the Red Sea of trouble our hearts were 
 
 made to feel, 
 And then the Jordan's crossing for the loving and 
 
 the leal. 
 
 Loud the drums are calling in the grey mists of 
 
 morn — 
 Fierce the fifes are screaming in the rows of tas- 
 
 seled corn 
 And the bugle's sounding for the onward coming 
 
 fray — 
 Soldiers of the northland there'll be bloody work 
 
 today; 
 Forward! Forward! legions! the tide is to the front, 
 The foe is advancing and you must bear the brunt; 
 Dress to the right, steady; think of your mothers, 
 
 wives and sires — 
 Stand for your country until the last foe expires. 
 
 A sheeted flame of fire springs from the foremost 
 line, 
 
THE DAYS OF SIXTY-ONE 31 
 
 The answering volley sputters as a long exploding 
 
 mine, 
 And the cannons brazen throats, with the shrieking 
 
 screams of shell 
 Fill the air with murder and the border fumes of 
 
 hell; 
 The wounded and the dying are reeling to and fro, 
 In the bloody tide that's rising to the overflow — 
 The dead in heaps are laying in the face of the sun 
 'Ere the foe is flying or the awful day is won. 
 
 How the waiting waited after the battle's bloody 
 
 morn, 
 When uncoffined heroes lay thick as sheaves of 
 
 ripened corn, 
 Lay with upturned faces all listless of the pain, 
 Fallen in the fiery tempest and sodden in the rain, 
 How the waiting waited when the lists were sure 
 
 to come; 
 How the hopeless, hoping, when loving lips were 
 
 dumb 
 And the lightning flashing northward the names of 
 
 immortells 
 To the eyrie of the eagles, where the pride and 
 
 honor dwells. 
 
 Often will be told the story in all the ageing years 
 
 Of the heroes and their glory, of wives' and moth- 
 ers' tears, 
 
 How the mailed hand of the foeman struck the 
 eagle's crest, 
 
 And the foeman perished with all that he loved 
 best; 
 
32 THE DAYS OF SIXTY-ONE 
 
 The cheeks of beauty paleing as the story then is 
 
 told 
 And mothers' tears prevailing more precious too 
 
 than gold — 
 The hearts of maidens then will grow more loving, 
 
 tender, 
 For our country's honor and her brave defenders. 
 
A NIGHT STORM 33 
 
 A NIGHT STORM. 
 
 NOT AS the breath of a furnace lire, 
 Seething and glowing with eager desire — 
 Hot as a simoon bringing dismay. 
 
 Touching with death in its terrible way; 
 So was the heat a long summer day 
 
 Till the sun went down in a sea of gold 
 And back toward the gate of morning rolled, 
 
 Wave after wave, unnumbered, untold, 
 Flashing the spray of their crests on high, 
 
 Up to the arch of the evening sky, 
 Back along the path the Morn went by — 
 Then night came with its crown of stars 
 And closed the gate with its shining bars. 
 
 Through the tangled thickets of blush and bloom, 
 
 Through wilds of forests and paths of gloom, 
 Over hills hid in waving green, 
 
 Across the valleys and ways between, 
 Swept with terror and pain unseen, 
 
 The fierce hot breath of affrighted air, 
 A wild rushing tide of deep despair, 
 
 Sweeping over life — sweeping everywhere, 
 It swept in beneath the morning's glow 
 
 And out beyond the evening's flow — 
 Touching with death as it came in — 
 
 A blight without, a sight within. 
 
 Down the starway on the Southland's rim 
 A cloud black as night arose in the dim; 
 Jets of flame and flashes of fire 
 
34 A NIGHT STORM 
 
 Glowed on the face of its wild desire 
 As it arose higher and higher. 
 
 It crossed the sea of tumultuous swell 
 In its rage with the moan of a shell 
 
 As the wild tones of the curfew bell 
 Rang out on the quivering air 
 
 Touched the heart of the storm that was there 
 Advancing through the night and the glare 
 
 Of flashing flame, of crash, and of roar 
 As a wild sea on a rockbound shore. 
 
 In the depths of the forest were cries of pain 
 
 And wails of terror and fright, 
 
 The wild beasts fled in the face of the rain 
 
 And vanished in the darkness of night — 
 Hiding in the caverns and clefts of the hills 
 
 From the storm that rocked the earth — 
 From the touch of the robe and the face of the king 
 
 In the glow and pride of his birth. 
 The birds of the air took wings as he came 
 
 And fled at the touch of his breath 
 Out into the darkness and blinding flame, 
 
 Into the night and glare of death. 
 
 Then came a patter of falling rain 
 
 On the green sward and the leaves; 
 Then came a sigh and a moan of pain 
 
 As the wind swept through the trees 
 And kissed the white lips of the flowers. 
 
 Parched by the thirst and the heat, 
 They had been waiting in anguish for hours. 
 
 The night and its tears to meet. 
 Now the fountain of cooling had come, 
 
NIGHT STORM 35 
 
 The tears of nature in pain. 
 There were fears in the hearts of the dumb 
 
 White lips in the face of the rain, 
 In the throes of the storm was the breath 
 
 Of the king of war and strife 
 Flashing along the paths of death 
 
 And over the ways of life. 
 The flashes he gathered in his hand 
 
 As a weaver's reed the woof, 
 And hurled them over the sea and land 
 
 Across the sky and its roof. 
 
 Patter, patter, faster and faster, 
 
 Came the rain with wild disaster 
 Upon flood and on field. 
 Crash upon crash, roar upon roar — 
 
 A wild storm as never before 
 Such rich fruitage did yield. 
 And nowhere in the world wide then 
 
 Amongst beasts or amongst men 
 Did such a wild torrent down pour 
 
 Upon saint or sage before. 
 Flashes fast, and flashes faster, 
 
 From the hand of lordly master, 
 Set all the wide world aglow 
 
 As from a Titian anvil springing, 
 Or abode of demons bringing, 
 
 Sheeted flames of fire did flow. 
 And never since time's tide of birth 
 
 Swept across the face of the earth. 
 Did such awful thunders roar 
 
 Upon saint or savage more. 
 Faster, faster, and still faster, 
 
36 A NIGHT STORM 
 
 Rushed the swift tide of disaster, 
 The night's wild tempest bore 
 
 Giants of the forest felling 
 Where for ages had been their dwelling, 
 
 Root and branch were then uptore; 
 And never did such wrath or rage 
 
 Sweep o'er time's awful page, 
 Or wreck from dark Plutonian shore 
 
 Upon saint or savage before. 
 
 Faster, faster, and still faster, 
 
 From the hand of lordly master, 
 Tongues of fire did leap and glow 
 
 With death's awfulness impending; 
 And the sheeted rain descending 
 
 In an endless torrent flow. 
 Time and life were then mismated, 
 
 Each seemed accursed and fated; 
 Swept in the vortex of a hideous woe 
 
 Its depth none could see or know. 
 
 And thus it was the king passed by, 
 
 We saw not his face or his throne 
 In the deep darkness of the night and the sky 
 
 When the fringe of his robe touched our own; 
 When his breath in the blinding hail 
 
 Threshed the earth again and again, 
 As the yeoman threshes with flying flail 
 
 The golden sheaves of ripened grain. 
 
 Afar beyond the crest of the night 
 Were muttered threats of anger dire 
 
A NIGHT STORM 37 
 
 And flashing flames of lurid light, 
 As seemed a city vast on fire. 
 
 Still onward marching, conquering all, 
 His path a waste of battle slain, 
 
 The King passed on, heard not the call 
 The victims of his wrath in pain. 
 
 With smiling face the morning came 
 
 And kissed away the tears of night; 
 With tenderness the crimson flame 
 
 Awoke with joy the world of sight. 
 The air was full of songs of praise; 
 
 The helpless creatures of His care; 
 The boundless mercies of His ways; 
 
 All, His boundless mercies share. 
 
38 JUBILEE BELLS 
 
 JUBILEE BELLS. 
 
 (Read before the Pioneer and Historical Society of 
 Muskingum County at their October meeting held 
 at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Samuel McGinness 
 in Wayne Township, on the occasion of their 
 Golden Wedding.) 
 
 PRELUDE. 
 
 THE GLISTENING sunlight is out on the hills, 
 The purple mists are low on the heather, 
 Where summer leaves like the quaintest of frills 
 
 The autumn has painted and knit in together, 
 The quail are hiding down in the stubble 
 
 Just beyond the valley where the searidges lay, 
 As if somehow or other they feared trouble 
 
 When the pioneers came to McGinness' to-day, 
 The red squirrels were busy out in the leaves, 
 
 Gathering stores for winter of brown nuts to 
 dry, 
 Quickly enough too they took to the trees 
 
 When the pioneers' wagons were rolling by. 
 Then here's to the pioneers, the old and the young, 
 
 Who have hastened hither by wagon or rail, 
 May they always at meetings have plenty of tongue 
 
 And never want either for squirrel or quail. 
 
 JUBILEE BELLS. 
 
 Hear ye not the bells, the wedding bells 
 As they rang out many a year ago; 
 
JUBILEE BELLS 39 
 
 Over the river time their cadence swells 
 
 From the morning's tide to the evening's glow. 
 
 Merry bells they are, and the far off chimes 
 Sweep away through the vanishing years. 
 
 They echo along the shores of time 
 
 They mingle with our joys and fears. 
 
 Joyful bells too, for the years that are by 
 
 Were measured by love in the morning's glow, 
 
 When the eve came with the same glow in the sky — 
 'Twas the touch of love that illumined it so. 
 
 Golden bells they are, we hear them to-day 
 As their music thrills in the sunbright air — 
 
 They bring to our hearts in a tender way 
 A gladness and joy we all can share. 
 
 Oh! happy bells, their glorious tone 
 
 Touch our hearts with a joyful cheer, 
 
 They throb and thrill where love is a throne, 
 And lives are faithful all the year. 
 
 Full fifty cycles, since the bell began, 
 
 This home so faithful to glorify; 
 Full fifty years as the summers ran 
 
 With fragrance of bloom have passed them by. 
 
 Their children gather, they hear the bells, 
 Loving friends too, and neighbors are here 
 
 At the old home while the chimes of the bells, 
 Greet the golden day of the jubilee year. 
 
40 JUBILEE BELLS 
 
 Many and many a day may they ring 
 
 Ere the voice of the bells shall be dumb; 
 
 Many and many a joy may they bring, 
 
 Ere the silence of the sleeper shall come. 
 
I. O. O. F., MOXAHALA LODGE No. 144 41 
 
 I. O. O. F. 
 
 Moxahala Lodge No. 144. 
 
 \ H, THERE'S an ache in my heart tonight, 
 ***• brothers, 
 
 Which I can't forget with all your glad cheer. 
 When I look around for the faces of others, 
 
 Big hearted brothers I used to meet here; 
 With a sob in my heart I see the places 
 
 They filled with delight are vacant, I fear 
 Something has happened, or, surely the faces 
 
 Of those big-hearted brothers would now be 
 here. 
 
 Something has happened, oh, what can it be, 
 
 My heart is throbbing wildly to meet them 
 And yet only their vacant places I see, 
 
 While so many warm hearts here would greet 
 them; 
 I look at myself and then into your faces — 
 
 'Tis plain enough something has happened I 
 see; 
 We somehow or other have all changed places, 
 
 Those big-hearted brothers, yourselves and me. 
 
 We have all changed places; ah, yes, for the tide 
 Of years in its sweep and merciless sway 
 
 Overflowed brothers who stood by our side — 
 To others it has brought wrinkles and gray; 
 
 Our hearts are warm — our footsteps are slower, 
 Soon they will falter, then stop by the way. 
 
42 I. O. O. F., MOXAHALA LODGE No. 144 
 
 Our hearts feel the touch, the scythe of the mower 
 And our places be vacant as theirs are today. 
 
 Then here's to the brothers, whose presence we are 
 missing; 
 
 Big-hearted brothers — if they only were here, 
 With joy our hearts and lips would be kissing 
 
 Our eyes be swimming in the brightest of tears. 
 Then green be the memories in the hearts of us all, 
 
 And the links of the chain forever be bright 
 The friendship of brothers our hearts would re- 
 call 
 
 The hearts of our brothers forever unite. 
 
 Zanesville, O., Aug. 20, 1903. 
 
WHAT IS LIFE 43 
 
 WHAT IS LIFE? 
 
 Vim AT is life?— A bright morn breaking 
 " On some starless night we can't recall, 
 When the soul, from slumber waking, 
 Remembers, yet has forgotten all. 
 
 Are we learning and forgetting 
 
 All we have known in life before? 
 
 Without a joy or care regretting, 
 
 Do we pass from shore to shore? 
 
 'Till some mighty hand awaking 
 
 The conscious self within us, where 
 
 The serfdom of our bondage breaking, 
 
 We awake to all We have known there. 
 
 When the last sleep is the final 
 
 The waking conscience hears the call, 
 
 Like some vast wave majestic tidal, 
 Life overwhelms and conquers all. 
 
 Zanesville, O., February 3, 1902. 
 
44 THE BEAUTIFUL LAND 
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL LAND. 
 
 OH! DREAM of the soul, that beautiful land, 
 Afar beyond the sea I am told, 
 The pure hearted stand on the Lord's right hand 
 And their treasures are better than gold; 
 'Tis the land of the blest 
 Where the weary find rest 
 From toils and troubles untold, 
 
 Where life is a joy the sweetest and best 
 And its pleasures have never been told. 
 
 There flowers ever bloom, their sweet perfume 
 
 Laden with fragrance the sun-bright air; 
 There is no gloom and for sorrow no room 
 In the joys of the pure hearted there. 
 The weary who pass o'er 
 To its beautiful shore 
 The mansions of the Lord will share, 
 
 Joy abide in their hearts evermore 
 And there will never come sorrow or care. 
 
 They who have walked in the path of God 
 
 And dwelt in His mercies wide as the sea, 
 Will never more feel the chastening rod 
 
 In His boundless love that made them free; 
 For the Lord will be there 
 And His joys they will share — 
 Oh! dream of the soul, home over the sea, 
 There will never come sorrow or care 
 To the pure hearted His love made free. 
 
 Zanesville, O., October 3, 1900. 
 
THE HOMELESS 45 
 
 THE HOMELESS. 
 
 OUT IN the city, its streets by night, 
 Out in the city, with its garish lights, 
 Two little bare feet, I met in the rain — 
 Two little tired feet, aching with pain. 
 
 Wandering alone in the falling sleet, 
 Alone in the crowd of the shivering street — 
 With nowhere a home to seek or find, 
 Only a sob in the heart left behind. 
 
 A tattered, worn coat, rent nearly in twain, 
 And a curly brown head dripping with rain; 
 'Twas a sad little heart, pitiful to see, 
 With wondering blue eyes looked up at me. 
 
 A waif in the street, adrift in the sight 
 
 Of the world as it passed on by in the night — 
 
 A wee little sail in the surging strife — 
 
 A human mite in the turmoil of life. 
 
 W T hither are you going, my little man? 
 
 And where is your home? I thus began; 
 
 A childish voice answered quivering with pain, 
 
 Answered me then as we stood in the rain. 
 
 I have no home and nowhere to go 
 
 For mother has gone, God took her, I know, 
 
 For she told me He was coming that day, 
 
 The King was coming and would take her away. 
 
46 THE HOMELESS 
 
 There were three of us, my mother and I 
 
 And father; we lived up near to the sky, 
 
 Where the swallows went by on the wing 
 
 And made their homes near the home of the King. 
 
 For we were nearer to God in the sky 
 And needed his care, my mother and I. 
 Father went away, God took him, you see 
 We then were but two, my mother and me. 
 
 We lived alone with trouble and toil, 
 For sorrow and care had made us their spoil; 
 Friends, they forsook us when poverty came, 
 And though humble our home we loved it the same. 
 
 Sometimes we were hungry, but we knew 
 He who fed the birds would care for us, too; 
 We could not see Him, but knew He was near, 
 And mother said He surely would hear. 
 
 And often at night, when lonely and cold, 
 We would look for His home, the city of gold, 
 Out by the stars, so far, we could see — 
 In that home mother's waiting for me. 
 
 He took her away. There is none but me — 
 There is only one where once there were three; 
 And thus he told in his childish way 
 The sorrows that on his young heart lay. 
 
 God pity us all, the rich and the poor — 
 The lowly of life at mercy's door, 
 May each with the other the burden share, 
 That all may feel His loving care. 
 Zanesville, O., March 25, 1902. 
 
JESUS' MOTHER 47 
 
 JESUS' MOTHER. 
 
 NEVER hath there been another 
 Name so loving as that of mother. 
 Never by sign or word or token; 
 Never by angel voices spoken, 
 One so deeply truly human, 
 One so sweetly womanly woman, 
 As Mary, Jesus' mother. 
 
 By the holy evangel spoken, 
 List! the heavenly silence broken 
 And through all the realms of light — 
 Glorious vision vast to sight 
 Swell the anthems more than human 
 Of one sweetly womanly woman 
 As Mary, Jesus' mother. 
 
 And when the holy God child came — 
 Jesus the heavenly passion flame — 
 From all the unnumbered tribes of earth 
 Gathered at his wonderous birth — 
 None so deeply truly human, 
 None so sweetly womanly woman 
 As Mary, Jesus' mother. 
 
 With thee sweet mother, heaven allied, 
 Jesus' fame will ever abide, 
 Beyond the bounds of time and tears 
 Of wasting death and passing years — 
 None so deeply truly human, 
 None so sweetly womanly woman 
 As Mary, Jesus' mother. 
 July 19, 1904. 
 
48 THE WONDERFUL STORY 
 
 THE WONDERFUL STORY. 
 
 'TpHE SWEETEST song that has ever been 
 -^ sung — 
 
 It touches the hearts of the old and the young; 
 The strangest story that has ever been told — 
 A story too that will never grow old; 
 The song which the shepherds heard angels sing — 
 The wonderful story of Jesus, the King. 
 
 When by night on the Judean hills, there came 
 
 A wonderful choir of heavenly fame, 
 
 And they sang of peace and good will to men, 
 
 "Glory to God in the highest," Amen, 
 
 The song which the shepherds heard angels sing, 
 
 The wonderful story of Jesus, the King. 
 
 The Christ should come, so the prophets had told, 
 In Bethlehem born, they had spoken of old, 
 That when God, our Father, had given his son, 
 The work of redemption would surely be done, 
 The song which the shepherds heard angels sing, 
 The wonderful story of Jesus, the King. 
 
 High over Judah, a cross and a crown, 
 Low falls the shadows on Bethlehem town, 
 Where sleeps the young child, the Christ to be, 
 The Christ that is, now for you and for me, 
 The song which the shepherds heard angels sing, 
 The wonderful story of Jesus, the King. 
 
 Tho' often told, yet it ever is new, 
 
 Our hearts have felt it, we know it is true. 
 
THE WONDERFUL STORY 49 
 
 Tho' to us it comes from years that are old, 
 We know it is better and purer than gold, 
 The song which the shepherds heard angels sing, 
 The wonderful story of Jesus, the King. 
 
 Zanesville, O., December 24, 1896. 
 
50 WAITING 
 
 WAITING. 
 
 AH. WHEN will the good life come, 
 When will the veil be torn aside, 
 For this poor heart to see beyond, 
 When will the river's noiseless tide, 
 Break the fetters of this bond, 
 And waft me to the other side? 
 
 Thy hand, Father, Thy guiding hand 
 
 To me extend, this hour of thickest gloom, 
 
 Within thy heart, thy Father's heart, give room 
 
 For one poor erring child, one wasted soul, 
 
 One blighted heart, one withered life, 
 
 Whose sad sorrow feels like a ghoul, 
 
 On this dead life of body and of soul. 
 
LIFE 51 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 \ YE, LIFE is but a passing dream, 
 **• A flash of sunlight over a stream, 
 A golden glow of morn's bright beam 
 
 Through an ever opening door; 
 Leaving its shadow over the vale- 
 Through which we journey in the sunlight pale 
 Leaving a sigh in the heart of the gale — 
 
 This, and nothing more. 
 
 Amid the stars in creation's morn, 
 
 When they sang together, young life was born 
 
 Wearing a crown of thistle and thorn, 
 
 Bearing earth's burden of sin. 
 Through years of sorrow, years of pain, 
 Along the thread of its golden chain, 
 The thrill of the spirit world comes again, 
 
 Calling young life within. 
 
 With silver linings the cloud hangs down, 
 Weaving its folds over vassal and crown, 
 A myth of joy, with a terrible frown, 
 
 For weary heart and brain, 
 By and by the damp grows chill, 
 The light is fading from valley and hill, 
 The dim grows dimmer and distant still 
 
 As the stars come back again. 
 
52 SHADOWS 
 
 SHADOWS. 
 
 MINNIE — our household pet, so frail and fair, 
 She is but two years old, and that is all, 
 With eyes of blue and of golden hair, 
 She will sit and watch the shadows fall 
 As they dance so weird along the wall, 
 In the ruddy glare of the fire at night, 
 As it sparkles and burns on the hearth so bright. 
 
 In her childish glee she will laugh and play, 
 And sometimes catch at the dark voids there, 
 And talk and prattle in her childish way 
 Of the shadows that seem to be sleeping there, 
 And against the wall in the fitful glare, 
 Of the cheerful fire that blazes and burns 
 And casts its shade and light by turns. 
 
 Ah, little she thinks those dark forms there, 
 
 Which, to her childish mind, so strange and grim, 
 
 Are the same in life as the masks we wear, 
 
 The same to us as the shadows that swim 
 
 On every wave in the twilight dim, 
 
 Of life as we drift to the other shore, 
 
 To return here again — no, never more. 
 
 Not a hope lies off on the sea of life, 
 Its white sails furled, but a shadow is by, 
 Not a joy springs up in the heart of life, 
 Or a star sparkles out in the azure sky, 
 But a dim shadow lies off, watching by. 
 Ah, well for us, when this life dream is oer, 
 And the soul is at rest, ever more. 
 
PLEASANT VALLEY 53 
 
 PLEASANT VALLEY. 
 
 OH! BEAUTIFUL valley, O sweet dream of de- 
 light, 
 
 With thy hills aflame in crimson and gold. 
 The white mists hang low as the foam lips of night 
 
 Kiss the bright waters thy bosom unfold. 
 Voices I hear in the silence about me. 
 
 Tender and loving they are as I have known. 
 Still, the enchantment would vanish without thee, 
 Beautiful Licking, the voices are thine own. 
 
 The morn as a maid, whose blush half revealing 
 
 The charms that enthral with tenderest delight, 
 Is aglow on the hills, where night was concealing 
 
 Visions that charm and enrapture the sight, 
 The mists a white veil on the face of thy beauty, 
 
 Will dissolve ere long and vanish in tears — 
 But the heart of the stranger, loyal in duty, 
 
 Will remember with delight the vision for years. 
 
 The night's tears gather on the blades of ripe corn 
 
 And the long silken ears as yellow as gold, 
 They shine by the wayside on thistle and thorn 
 
 And sparkle in the light as morning unfolds, 
 The sweet scenes of content that still linger here 
 
 Where nature has lavished her choicest of gifts 
 And joy glistens in the heart of the tear, 
 
 The white foam dies in the swirl of the drifts. 
 
 Silent is the brook's song down in the willows, 
 Where its bright waters sleep a joy at thy feet, 
 
54 PLEASANT VALLEY 
 
 From hills crowned like flame-crested billows 
 
 Its waters with thine here blissfully meet; 
 Though lowly and humble, the brook's honored 
 name — 
 For on its green banks was the home of the 
 sire — 
 The son hath wreathed with bright garlands of 
 fame — 
 The hearts of the noblest can hope to aspire. 
 
 Around thee, sweet vale, fierce battle is raging, 
 
 They who gather in strife and waste in pain, 
 The restless of spirit the warfare is waging, 
 
 They sow and they reap when both are alike 
 vain. 
 For soon the time is coming, when victor and van- 
 quished 
 Will be brothers anew in the calm of repose, 
 When the hearts of the joyful, the woes of the an- 
 guished, 
 Will slumber in the silence whither man goes. 
 
THE BROOK 55 
 
 THE BROOK. 
 
 DY THE side of the fountain, its bright waters 
 
 ■*-* gleam, 
 
 And the sunny rays sparkle and play o'er the 
 stream, 
 
 And the wild rose here blushes with sweetness un- 
 seen, 
 
 On its banks of the purest and brightest of green. 
 
 How sweet to recline in the shade of the bowers, 
 As the summer day fades in the twilight of hours, 
 And their fragrance, as sweet and as holy, sweep 
 
 o'er, 
 As mortal e'er wished or had hoped for before. 
 
 Then, to watch the sweet waters, with ripples un- 
 seen, 
 As they glide on in silence away through the green, 
 And to know and to feel, when the world is at rest, 
 In our hearts, in our souls, how truly we are blest! 
 
 To hear, at a distance, the bright waters fall, 
 As they pour over rocks both ragged and tall, 
 And sweep down with peace — ere the sound dies 
 
 away — 
 They glide on as smoothly and sweetly as aye. 
 
 How calm and how blest could I live, if the tide 
 Of my life moved as sweet as thy bright waters 
 glide; 
 
56 THE BROOK 
 
 And the frowns that we meet in the cold world, like 
 
 this, 
 Should mingle in sweetness and flow on in bliss'. 
 
 Then how sweet would come on the calm ev'ning 
 
 of Life, 
 With its joy and its gladness shut out from the 
 
 strife, 
 Like thy waters, flow on when the world is at rest 
 Gliding swiftly, at last, to the home of the blest. 
 
THE MUSKINGUM 57 
 
 THE MUSKINGUM. 
 
 HOW OFT by the waters, O beautiful river, 
 I have wandered in days that long have gone 
 by, 
 Thro' scenes of delight that I'll cherish forever, 
 And joys that will live in my heart till I die; 
 How oft I have stood where the mists gathered o'er 
 thee, 
 Foam flecked thy waters as they rippled on by, 
 And many a lure in the deep pools below me, 
 
 I have cast for the bass that lingered near by. 
 
 And when the line ran out with a whir from the 
 reel — 
 
 The captive's wild leap to escape from the toil — 
 The swift flight for tumultuous waters I'd feel — 
 
 Then what joy and delight there was in the foil. 
 When at length on the green sward the bright beau- 
 ty lay, 
 
 The delight of the angler, a captive and spoil. 
 He felt in his heart how blessed was the day 
 
 And how rich a reward he had won for his toil. 
 
 Bright were thy hillsides where the summer days 
 lingered, 
 Till the sunlight changed them to crimson 
 and gold, 
 When from thy blue waters, a fairy, deft fingered, 
 White robed thee in mists and hid them in 
 its folds — 
 Still thy waters rippled and laughing went by 
 
58 THE MUSKINGUM 
 
 Till the morn came over the hills as of old, 
 And ripe'd thee with the rosy bright lips of the sky, 
 While the oaks were blushing and the maples 
 were gold. 
 
 The friends who were near me in the mists of the 
 morn, 
 Some have crossed over and are hid from the 
 view, 
 Others remain and like sheaves of ripe corn, 
 
 Will be gathered in time and pass over, too; 
 But thou wilt remain, O beautiful river, 
 
 A joy and a delight when our hearts have 
 grown cold, 
 When we have parted and parted forever, 
 
 Still thy mists will be fretted with maples of 
 gold. 
 
 Zanesville, O., Set. 22, 1897. 
 
LINCOLN 59 
 
 LINCOLN. 
 
 TJE SLEEPS, the hero, martyr, wisest of the 
 ■*- -*■ sages, 
 
 In fame's eternal temple glory crowned, 
 The brightest name in all the roll of deathless ages, 
 
 The fairest soul in all life's failing circle 'round. 
 In the far off sweep of mystic years that gather, 
 
 Above the dust and ashes of the mighty past, 
 His fame will shine on forever and forever, 
 
 With increasing glory even until the last 
 Trumpet shall sound throughout the earth, 
 
 And God shall give to man his second birth. 
 
 When from freedom's holy temple the war cry 
 sounded — 
 The beating drum, the fife's shrill call to arms, 
 The nations heard the cry and hearing were con- 
 founded 
 That from freedom's home should sound forth 
 war's dread alarms; 
 He, then, the foremost man of all the ages, 
 
 The nation's mighty chief stood in the strife 
 alone, 
 And plead for peace — war the nation's awful wages 
 For two hundred years of wrong might not 
 atone — 
 Two hundred years of sin the white man's race — 
 Two hundred years of bondage the black man's 
 face. 
 
 When the red wasting death rain deluged the smil- 
 ing earth, 
 
60 LINCOLN 
 
 And war's awful sorrows filled the moaning 
 years; 
 Oh! cruel years, when sadness drowned the heart 
 of mirth 
 And filled the land with Rachels weeping bitter 
 tears, 
 He felt the nation's burden laid upon his heart — 
 God's sacred trust placed in the keeping of his 
 hands, 
 And he saw from afar the martyr's shining part 
 
 The crowning glory of the heavenly lands, 
 When man to man and soul to soul made free 
 God's crowning work and boundless victory. 
 
 Zanesville, O., Dec. 3, 1895. 
 
MANILA 61 
 
 MANILA. 
 
 A/f ANILA! Oh! Manila! 
 
 *■▼•* Thou queenly city by the sea 
 
 Where Lucon's tide sleeps by thy side, 
 
 And fragrant breezes breathe on thee, 
 Freedom's flag floats on thy walls — 
 
 Floats o'er the graves of comrades slain 
 In freedom's cause — whate're befalls 
 
 We'll never give thee back to Spain. 
 
 The sobbing sea that comes to thee, 
 
 The sighing winds that pass thee by 
 Hath often borne from prison walls 
 
 The captive's wild despairing cry; 
 But never more by sea or shore, 
 
 Shall tyrants' might or power regain 
 What freedom's flag has floated o'er 
 
 We'll never give thee back to Spain. 
 
 Thy prison doors have opened wide, 
 
 Thy dungeon walls have fallen down, 
 They felt alike the fateful blow 
 
 That crushed the haughty Castile crown; 
 Thy life a heritage of woe 
 
 Made by the Moor his bloody reign; 
 Sure as the good God rules below 
 
 We'll never give thee back to Spain. 
 
 Torn from thy brow the tyrant's crown, 
 
 And from thy lips woe's bitter cup — 
 Let not unholy hands cast down 
 
62 MANILA 
 
 What lofty souls have lifted up; 
 The boon of liberty is thine — 
 
 'Twas won for thee and not in vain- 
 The starry flag will o'er thee shine, 
 
 We'll never give thee back to Spain. 
 
 Zanesville, O., Aug. 18, '98. 
 
FAITH 63 
 
 FAITH. 
 
 IN THE wondrous depths of night, 
 Myriad stars, shining bright — 
 Nature's tear drops in the sheene 
 Glistening like gems upon the green — 
 Twinkling in the deep blue sky, 
 Twinkling in the zone of light, 
 Shining downward from on high 
 Through the glorious depths of night- 
 Each bright star a blessed hope, 
 The pearly gates of heaven to ope 
 By faith; each night a glorious day 
 Nearer on the heavenly way, 
 Soul answering to the Father's call 
 In the great city of the King. 
 God, the shepherd of us all, 
 To Him our loud hosannas sing. 
 
 Zanesville, O., August, 1868. 
 
64 WHO ARE MY NEIGHBORS 
 
 WHO ARE MY NEIGHBORS. 
 
 T1THO ARE my neighbors, I'd like dearly to 
 
 * * know," 
 For the minister said: "I was to love them so — 
 Love them as myself, that's what puzzles me, 
 For who in the world can my neighbors be 
 That I should love them as myself, you see? 
 
 "He could not mean the Browns, for they are not 
 
 much; 
 Besides, they are as poor as a mouse in a church; 
 They never go out in my set, you see- 
 No one thinks of inviting them to tea — 
 Surely they are not my neighbors, you see? 
 
 "There's the Jones' who live in the next house be- 
 low, 
 He has been out of work all winter I know; 
 The children are ragged — half starved I see; 
 But, goodness, what are their troubles to me? 
 Surely they are not my neighbors, you see? 
 
 "The widow Smith, who is just over the way — 
 Her rent is behind — she has nothing to pay; 
 Her last year's gown she's made over, I see; 
 Her hat is a fright, but what's that to me? 
 Surely she is not my neighbor, you see. 
 
 "Everywhere I go, in the store, on the street, 
 These people in trouble I am sure to meet; 
 Discouraged and hungry they seem to be; 
 
WHO ARE MY NEIGHBORS 65 
 
 Like enough, too, they'd be friendly with me; 
 But then, they are not my neighbors, you see." 
 
 Who will thy neighbors be, since these you disown, 
 When the merciful Lord shall come to His own? 
 The poor and needy will be his, you see; 
 "As unto these you've done, so unto me;" 
 Heartless one, then who will thy neighbors be? 
 
 Zanesville, March 22, 1897. 
 
66 THANKFULNESS 
 
 THANKFULNESS. 
 
 "D RAISE ye the Lord! Magnify His holy name; 
 
 ■*■ His loving kindness everywhere proclaim, 
 For He hath blessed us with His abundant store, 
 And His mercies touch us ever more and more. 
 No plummet line hath e'er His treasure told — 
 Our needs alone His boundless wealth unfold; 
 And as our needs, so hath His mercies been 
 Showered upon the homes and hearts of men. 
 Then let our hearts with thankful praise confess 
 His loving kindness and His tenderness. 
 The Lapwing's cry for her young brood He hears, 
 And in the silent night when danger nears 
 He shelters the young fawn and lion's whelp, 
 And giveth all His needy creatures help. 
 For Him the beauty of the roses bloom; 
 The lillies giveth Him their sweet perfume; 
 The daisies in the night's wild tempest's pain 
 Feel His gentle loving in the rain, 
 With thankfulness they greet the morning's glow, 
 And glittering tears His loving kindness show. 
 
 The fat kind and the lean are His we know — 
 The young lambkin and the sturdy ox are so; 
 Each is the object of His tenderest care; 
 Each from His hands His loving bounty share; 
 Are we the least? The harvest of ripened grain. 
 The precious store the groaning barns complain; 
 The laughing fields have answered to His call 
 In the rich fruitage that hath blessed us all. 
 At the hearthstone the children's joyful cheer 
 Make glad the hearts of all the waning year. 
 
THANKFULNESS 67 
 
 At eve when 'round the fireside's ruddy glow 
 We gather, then we feel His tender mercies so; 
 The cricket's humble song inspires our own 
 To make our wants and all His mercies known, 
 As at His feet with thankful hearts we kneel — 
 Almighty Lord we His loving kindness feel. 
 
 Zanesville, O., November, 1897. 
 
68 AUTUMN LIFE 
 
 AUTUMN LIFE. 
 
 TN THESE dreamy days of sweet and quiet 
 
 ■*■ beauty, 
 
 When through the haze October's stainless beam 
 
 Leaves the woods and hills in mellow light, 
 
 And o'er the valleys, the purling stream, 
 
 And through the hazel thickets brown and sear 
 
 Pours out the last rich glow of the expiring year. 
 
 Now falling leaves, shaken by a breath of air, 
 Soft as even'g, swept from off their thrones, 
 Come rustling down to earth, dying with the year — 
 Gorgeous in their beauty; while the sweet low tones 
 Of music, soft as from Aeolean lyres, 
 Sweeps through the forest grand 'neath Autumn's 
 paling fires. 
 
 Between the hills the hazy mists hang down 
 O'er sleepy valleys, basking in the sun, 
 While through the forest, all ruddy with the glow, 
 Summer lingers timidly, as if undone — 
 His work — sends back his quivering beam 
 Of warmth, and life, o'er woods and warbling 
 stream. 
 
 By field and flood, the river's winding shore, 
 Whose silvery depths embowered within the vale, 
 Half hid the way amid the purple tide it bore 
 Of dying leaves, fades in the sunlight pale; — 
 A thread of silver ends its shining way, 
 To some far off ocean or deep'ning bay. 
 
AUTUMN LIFE 69 
 
 I would, when death comes tapping at the door 
 
 Of our poor lives, waiting within the pale 
 
 Of shadows many years, watching the white sail 
 
 Through the mists, come o'er the dusky sea, 
 
 That we in such holy beauty — away each care and 
 
 strife, 
 Fade so peacefully into everlasting life. 
 
70 OLD FRIENDS 
 
 OLD FRIENDS. 
 
 /^\F ALL dear friends, none surely are dearer 
 ^— ' Than those we have known from infancy's 
 
 years; 
 Other friends may be near, but, none are nearer 
 Than those we remember long after in tears. 
 
 Around them gathers a halo of glory, 
 
 Which death cannot vanquish, nor time can 
 dim — 
 Forgetmenots wove into life's mystic story — 
 
 Immortelles wreathed in the world's wide rim. 
 
 Dearly we cherish them, pearls from life's greeting — 
 At the foot of the years we're climbing they 
 sleep; 
 
 We think of the joys our hearts felt at meeting, 
 The sorrow at parting our eyes can but weep. 
 
 As gold, they were tried in the fires of affliction, 
 The dross of life perished, only, friendship re- 
 mained; 
 
 Pure as the crystal in the heart's deep affection — 
 Priceless as jewels with their luster unstained. 
 
 Like the wine of the vintage, the years of its treas- 
 ure — 
 The fret of the years will the fragrance retain; 
 When the false in life perish, the true live forever 
 The joys of old friends will surely remain. 
 Zanesville, O., August 9th, 1902. 
 
"ALL IS VANITY" 71 
 
 "ALL IS VANITY." 
 
 \ LL FLESH is grass," and again, 
 ***■ "All is vanity" saith the preacher; 
 Is there not in the gospel of pain 
 
 A wise and benevolent teacher? 
 Is there not hid in life's shallows and deeps 
 
 A surcease for every sorrow 
 And somewhere for the heart that weeps 
 
 A joy in the to-morrow? 
 
 Is life a blade of grass withered? 
 
 Or, as a bubble, is all that we do? 
 To inscrutable fate are we tethered, 
 
 And trouble only is true? 
 Is there not in the heart of the hollows 
 
 Somewhere in the depths of the deep 
 A ray of the sunshine of gladness 
 
 For hearts that only can weep? 
 
 Does not joy border on sadness 
 
 In the kingdom of weal and of woe? 
 And is not pain allied to gladness 
 
 Wherever our footsteps may go? 
 Do we go on forever and ever 
 
 And ne'er leave a mark in the snow 
 Of gathering winters about us, 
 
 To others whither we go? 
 
 Nay, nay, it cannot be, never! 
 
 That our lives are wasted and vain 
 When God ruleth forever and ever 
 
72 "ALL IS VANITY' 
 
 And the sinless for sin was slain; 
 When the wail and the wassail are over 
 
 The good and the pure are found 
 Our foot prints will abide forever, 
 
 And joy forever abound. 
 
JUSTICE 73 
 
 JUSTICE. 
 
 JUSTICE is the unchangeable right of everj' man 
 Whether he be the poorest slave in all the 
 earth; 
 Or the haughtiest king that ever wore a crown, 
 Each, alike, hath this inalienable right of birth, 
 And woe be unto him who seeks to tread it down, 
 Or walk with impious steps rough shod, 
 Over this man's heritage from God. 
 
 Rome, thou seven fold, mural crowned mistress of 
 
 the world, 
 This eternal truth prefaced thy great book of laws, 
 "Justice is the unchanging, everlasting will 
 To give each man his right;" yet thou perished be- 
 cause 
 It was the hypocrite's pretense; a tyrant still, 
 Insane with awful power, in thy might, 
 Thou scorned the lowliness of human right. 
 
 Weep Chaldea, wail and mourn for thy Emerald 
 crown, 
 
 And white dove, emblems of thy savage power 
 
 Have vanished. Where the Judea's captive daugh- 
 ters wept, 
 
 As they remembered Zion, the Persians came an 
 hour 
 
 Thou knew not of; thy empire fell. Time hath 
 swept, 
 
 Lethe's waves deep o'er thy troubled fame, 
 
 An everlasting rot is thy hated name. 
 
74 JUSTICE 
 
 Persia, flame of the nations in the night of time, 
 Like some bright star thou arose and dazzled men, 
 Swept over the earth, in the greatness of thy prime. 
 Scourged the Hellespont, drove on thy millions 
 
 then 
 To make men slaves; ambition's awful crime, 
 Till Greece made thee a slave by Philip's son, 
 Thy glory and greatness all undone. 
 
 Fair Greece, once a noble sisterhood of classic 
 
 states, 
 Tho' twenty centuries and more have passed thee 
 
 by, 
 Still the world reveres thee, and still thy name lives 
 
 on 
 In more than parian speech, nor canst thou die 
 While sleeps thy braves at Salamis and Marathon, 
 In Fame's eternal temple, glory crowned they lie 
 Tho' Chersonesus fateful plain proved the grave 
 Of liberty; yea more; it made thee a slave. 
 
 Thou poisoned and banished the wisest, best of men; 
 Scorned God's righteous law and the loveliness of 
 
 love; 
 The beauty of justice was not upon thy brow, 
 Nor mercy crowned thee from the merciful above; 
 Therefore, O queen of song, thy music is silent 
 
 now, 
 Thy lyre all broken lies beneath the tyrant's feet, 
 Nor can thy sleeping heroes wake its tuneful power 
 Till God's avenging justice is complete. 
 
 For a thousand years, Gaul was the slave of tyrant 
 kine^s. 
 
 kings, 
 
JUSTICE 75 
 
 Bound by feudal laws and fretted by their chains 
 Till as a river dammed and barred overleaps its 
 
 bound, 
 Spreads desolation wide o'er fairest fields and 
 
 plains. 
 So didst France with ruin and wasting death abound, 
 As wild beasts more fiercely turn when brought to 
 
 bay 
 Yea more savage still wert thou than they. 
 
 Thy ambition led thee on, a tyrant, then a slave; 
 O'erwhelmned in freedom's name, the majesty of 
 
 law, 
 Till from thy own brood, one the loftiest of his time, 
 Arose and led thee captive; men stood in awe 
 And dread, at the regal splendor of the crime, 
 Till banded nations hurled him from his throne — 
 The shame was thine, the glory all his own. 
 
 The world grows old, empires perish, nations are 
 
 forgot 
 In the tumult borne on the crest of passing years, 
 But God's justice is eternal, it slumbers not 
 And in the fierce riot of life, no blinding tears 
 Will stop the wrong once set afloat, or, stay the 
 
 hand 
 Of eternal justice, to smite the calloused heart 
 Of those who wrong the poor, oppress the land, 
 And bring disorder to its every part. 
 
 Zanesville, O., February 4, 1903. 
 
76 "MEMORY' 
 
 "memory; 
 
 WHEN our parents were from Eden driven 
 There stood with flaming sword an angel 
 keeping 
 Watch at the gate (so near were they to heaven,) 
 Lest the exiles return who stood without, weeping, 
 For of God's precious gifts, there alone remained — 
 "Memory," that of Eden by sin unstained 
 Where conscience smote with guilty fear the mind, 
 And innocence was forever left behind. 
 
 The angel of the gate beheld their sad woe 
 Such as sorrowing hearts of exiles only know, 
 When with bitter tears of regret they depart — still 
 It was the mandate of His heavenly will, 
 And as they went the flaming swords withdrew 
 When Paradise vanished forever from their view, 
 A memory, it remained the last lingering trace 
 Where God and man met face to face. 
 
 We are crossing the same stream they crossed of 
 
 yore, 
 Life and death mark the boundary lines of either 
 
 shore. 
 As ships outbound the varying land marks see 
 As homeward bound where shall our refuge be? 
 The tide is oft shore today for you and I, 
 What friendly shelter shall we have by and by 
 With storm swept skies what harbor shall we find 
 When wrecked by waves the storm has left behind. 
 
MEMORY" 77 
 
 Swiftly the years go by like a torrent's flow, 
 They touch us as they pass and are then forgot; 
 Remorseless time entombs them all; we know 
 That such is the fate of life, the common lot 
 Of man and all things that he loves or fears 
 Whilst groping his way through the restless years; 
 Yet memory oft times with matchless skill 
 Brings to his heart a touch of Eden still. 
 
 Oft scenes of other days long passed it brings 
 To our hearts with the tenderness of tears, 
 And from none do riches or sweeter pleasure spring 
 Than those of youth with all its hopes and fears; 
 Oft the tear will start as memory a scene recalls — 
 The dull eye will brighten as it flows — 
 The heart thrill with joy or sadness as it falls — 
 Springs bright bloom mid winter's gathering snows. 
 
 Oft times there comes to us from some unknown 
 
 shore 
 An impulse to duty we have never known before; 
 Oft has pity moved us as some remembered face 
 Comes like a vision that we could never trace. 
 The woodbine clings around the open door, 
 The sunlight glinting through, gilds the oaken floor, 
 So these memories from some far off trend of life 
 Sow with seeds of gladness the fretted ways of 
 
 strife. 
 
 A paneled scene in some long neglected hall 
 
 The painting fades from the vanishing wall, 
 
 E'en as we behold it another scene comes in the 
 view, 
 
78 "MEMORY" 
 
 Which with joy our hearts confess the homage due; 
 Oh! halcyon days of youth, the scene is thine — 
 Memory, has severed the fettered hands of time, 
 Rolled back the years, the limits of the sage 
 Brought in the years life's golden dream of age. 
 
 The tears of night are on the bladed corn 
 Like gems they sparkle in the radiant morn, 
 In reverie we see the crimson roses bloom 
 We breathe the air fragrant with their sweet per- 
 fume, 
 The folding hills with sunlight smiling down 
 Meet the waking valleys with their vernal crown, 
 The song of birds is in the morning's joy 
 Which time cannot annul or grief destroy. 
 
 Here is the home of youth, scene of laughter and of 
 
 tears, 
 The child hath grief like those of older years, 
 Only grief multiplies as the years increase, 
 The child becomes the man; sorrow hath no sur- 
 cease 
 Where the huntsman, death hath been and wreaked 
 
 his will — 
 Insatiate monster thy greed insatiate still — 
 Silent is the laughter, tears come later on 
 When hearts feel what has been lost — what has 
 been won. 
 
 There is a sacredness in things we know 
 When death hath banned and bared kindred souls 
 Beyond which the tenderest heart may not go. 
 All philosophy is vain when grief rolls 
 
'MEMORY" 79 
 
 Its turbid way across the sunlight of life, 
 Memory alone may sooth the poignant strife 
 When we look with tenderness the well spent years 
 Of kindly friends whose partings were signed in 
 tears. 
 
 Every joy in life has a sorrow; grief tends 
 
 But to chasten and purify. Here the vision ends, 
 
 The reverie is broken; and as a golden chain 
 
 We view its shining, severed links with pain. 
 
 The consciousness within us speaks, we know not 
 
 how, 
 But He to whose loving hand we humbly bow, 
 Will somewhere unite these severed links again 
 Where life will be an endless joy without grief or 
 
 pain. 
 
 He will awaken us from the sleeping, 
 With all life's troubles past and o'er, 
 When our eyes have ceased from weeping 
 Our hearts with sorrow throb no more. 
 
 He will awaken us from that slumber 
 
 Bid us arise and live again, 
 
 Not a life of woes without number 
 
 But of joy on some bright Elysian plain. 
 
 He will call us the bondage breaking 
 
 Of that dreamless night that's sure to come, 
 
 Call us to new life, joys awaking 
 
 The old life's woes forever dumb, 
 
 Call us not like the beasts and cattle 
 
 To fondle the hand that smites them through 
 
80 "MEMORY" 
 
 Not like the coward who flees the battle, 
 But loving, tender and trusting too. 
 
 When He calls us if we have been faithful — true, 
 
 Our hearts will thrill with joy's delight, 
 
 The morn will be most glorious too, 
 
 For we shall stand within the light, 
 Beyond the shadows and the bars 
 Of that dreamless sleep that waits us all; 
 Beyond the night, beyond the stars 
 Our hand in His who loves us all. 
 
A FRAGMENT 81 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 OH, FULL ten years have gone away — 
 Ten years of life have passed us by, 
 We count them up among the stars, 
 We see them in the blessed sky, 
 So full of love and tenderness, 
 So full of faith to you and I. 
 
 'Twas just ten years ago last night, 
 
 I wonder, has it been so long? 
 
 Ah! yes, 'twas ten, I know I'm right, 
 
 Then you and I, our hearts were young, 
 
 And warmer with that pulseless thrill 
 
 Of hot blood which the young life feels, 
 
 When through each vein it burns and thrills, 
 
 A wild, impassioned love, which fills 
 
 The heart of youth, till age doth steal 
 
 Upon us, then comes a chill. 
 
 The sweets of love turn bitter fruit, 
 
 The joys of life are blunted then, 
 
 The soul goes out in thoughts which suit 
 
 The withered tree, the wasted shell 
 
 Of its own immortality; 
 
 We met, ah, I remember well, 
 
 When the hawthorne's milk-white blossom 
 Filled the air with sweet perfume, 
 When the lilly softly blending 
 With the blood-red rose of June, 
 When the evening shadows lying 
 On the green sward at the door, 
 
82 A FRAGMENT 
 
 And the little brook went sighing 
 Through the meadow as before; 
 A thread of silver in the moonbeams 
 Which struggled through the night, 
 A pearl set in the little vale 
 Which wondered out of sight, 
 Between the hills that stretched far by, 
 Like great dark banks against the sky. 
 
THE SPRING 83 
 
 THE SPRING. 
 
 HIE HO, the beautiful spring, 
 Comes from the south, the welkin ring, 
 She comes to rule where winter was king, 
 
 The blithesome spring. 
 Radiant and beautiful, she comes with glee, 
 Through the forest, the meadow and lea, 
 And the gleam of her robes in the thickets I see 
 
 Like a dream to me. 
 Timidly through the rifts in the clouds, 
 The sun peeps out at the coming bride, 
 And the birds are whistling their songs so loud, 
 Through the forest and glen in a glorious tide 
 
 Of sweetest melody. 
 Her coming is life through the earth and air, 
 Her coming is life, yea, everywhere, 
 
 The beautiful spring. 
 
 The violets spring up at her coming, 
 To kiss her warm breath in the breeze, 
 The pheasants again are drumming, 
 The songsters are again in the trees. 
 The brooks leap down the hill side, 
 So rugged, and steep, and stone, 
 Unloosed their silvery voices, 
 Singing their way through the foam. 
 The stars shine out in the blue sky, 
 Like eyes in the night are they, 
 Through rifts in the clouds so nigh, 
 They seem through the mist and spray, 
 And as she passes the little flowers 
 
84 THE SPRING 
 
 The buds and the swelling blooms, 
 
 Gliding along with the fleeting hours, 
 
 She wakes them to life and bloom, 
 
 While brighter and brighter grows the day 
 
 As farther goes the king away, 
 
 The king of winter wearing a crown, 
 
 Wearing a sad and terrible frown. 
 
 Through field and fallow, o'er hill and plain, 
 The farmer is ploughing the soil again, 
 Turning the sod for the golden grain, 
 
 Which shall ripen again. 
 Trusting in faith, the germ to the earth, 
 The genial showers shall hasten the birth 
 Into new life in the kindly earth. 
 
 Sowing the seed, 
 
 He shall harvest again. 
 Kindly mother, the genial soil 
 Shall bless his faith and bless his toil, 
 
 For his labor of love, 
 
 For his faith above, 
 The seed-time and harvest shall come again. 
 
SUMMER 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 npHE LAND smiles with peace and plenty, 
 * Our fields are all golden with grain, 
 Ripened for the harvester's sickle, 
 
 To be gathered in sheaves from the plain. 
 The meadows are velvet and mossy, 
 
 The forest is red with the stain 
 Of the rich blood of the wild fruit, 
 
 All crimson with summer again. 
 The low of the herd in the pastures, 
 
 The song of the birds in the trees, 
 The murmur of brooks through the meadows, 
 
 And the busy hum of the bees, 
 Over field and fallow, and hill and plain, 
 
 Have all come back with the summer again. 
 
 He comes from the South in flowing robes, 
 
 His hot breath we feel in the breeze, 
 And we catch a gleam of his shadowy form 
 
 'Neath the sylvan shade of the trees — 
 His brow is bound with a wreath of flowers, 
 
 His beard a sheaf of grain, 
 And he wears a crown of golden hours, 
 
 He is king of the year again. 
 He rules with a scepter of plenty, and born 
 
 With the grain in the gathered sheaf, 
 And he dies when the ripened corn 
 
 Is yellow and golden, with the leaf 
 Of summer when it fades and dies, 
 
 And the haze hangs pale in the autumn skies. 
 
86 MY MOTHER 
 
 MY MOTHER. 
 
 LAST NIGHT I saw her in my dreams— 
 A spirit by my couch; 
 She came as light o'er fountain beams — 
 I wakened at her touch. 
 I knew 'twas her, 
 And yet so strange, 
 A spirit here so free, 
 So far from heaven to range, 
 To earth to welcome me. 
 
 I knew her voice, for, when a child, 
 
 And prattling on her knee, 
 I learned to love those tones so mild 
 That welcomed, welcomed me; 
 And when she came, 
 A spirit white, 
 To earth again to me, 
 I knew the voice, though robed in light, 
 That welcomed, welcomed me. 
 
 She pointed to the upper world, 
 
 Where sweet the starlight shone, 
 And brilliant orbs in glory whirled 
 Around a peerless throne; 
 She beckoned me 
 To follow her — 
 A spirit robed in light — 
 The upper world to follow her — 
 To speed with her to-night. 
 
MY MOTHER 87 
 
 She left me; o'er the void of space 
 
 I watched her as she went — 
 By myriad worlds I marked the trace 
 The homeward spirit sent, 
 Till heaven gained, 
 I knew not why; 
 The pearly gates ajar 
 Were left for her beyond the sky — 
 The wanderer from afar. 
 
88 THE SNOW FLAKE 
 
 THE SNOW FLAKE. 
 
 DOWN, down, dancing down, 
 Over the hillside bare and brown, 
 Over the forest yellow and sere, 
 And the lowlands bleak and drear; 
 Comes the snow flake dancing down, 
 Winter's white and feathery crown. 
 
 Over the river, deep and wide, 
 Bridged with ice from side to side, 
 Chained with frost and deep below, 
 Fettered with crystals falls the snow; 
 Over the river deep and wide, 
 Winter's white and shadowy bride. 
 
 And in the rosy light of morn, 
 Over the hazle, hedge, and thorn. 
 By your window skipping nigh, 
 By your door-way drifting high; 
 Falls the snow flake in the morn, 
 Over the hazle, hedge, and thorn. 
 
 Falling, falling from the sky, 
 
 Over the church spires, pointing high; 
 
 Over the cottage, over the town, 
 
 And the bleak road leading down; 
 
 For many a mile, skipping by, 
 
 Over the lowlands drifting high. 
 
 Weaving a robe fleecy and white, 
 Through the City, its streets by night; 
 
THE SNOW FLAKE 89 
 
 Over the palace of wealth and pride, 
 Over the hovel of want by its side; 
 O'er many a home in the stilly night, 
 Weaving a robe fleecy and white. 
 
 Weaving a robe in the stilly night, 
 That shall hide away in the morning light, 
 Many a shadow of crime and shame, 
 Would darken life's fair and virgin fame; 
 Leaving no trace in the morning light, 
 But a robe of fleece and a world of white. 
 
90 THE SEASON 
 
 THE SEASON. 
 
 TN THE shivering gale that winter drives along, 
 
 -*■ Through leafless forests and o'er crystal stream, 
 
 Hid in the sunshine, waiting long 
 
 To break the seal and open with a gleam 
 
 The fickle tide of spring and song. 
 
 Half hid within the glimmer of the snow, 
 Half within the summer's purple tide, 
 The one far off, the other near, I know, 
 Comes Spring, bright, beautiful, a bride, 
 To greet old hoary winter e're he go. 
 
 As a coy and bashful maiden, knowing 
 Her womanhood full in the tide of life, 
 With blushes half hid, half disclosing 
 All the sweet wealth of worth and wife, 
 Thus spring comes, in her youth, all glowing. 
 
 The violet, blue as are the eyes of beauty 
 And the lilly of the vale, will win 
 With loving lives our hearts to duty, 
 As from the south the spring comes in 
 And greets us with her regal beauty. 
 
 In field and stream, and by the open fallow, 
 In the woody glen where winter last held sway, 
 The sugar grove down in the sleepy hollows, 
 The fleecy smoke curls up, spring rules the day, 
 Until shall come the summer and the swallows. 
 
 Zanesville, March 24, 1869. 
 
A KISS 91 
 
 A KISS. 
 
 THE ROSE grew red upon her cheek, 
 Her heart beat fast, so close to mine, 
 That scarce a thought between us woke, 
 That dream of bliss so near divine. 
 Her ruby lips pressed up to mine, 
 A kiss, the sweetness of which sent 
 The hot blood with so wild a thrill 
 To our young hearts, as if the will, 
 Startled to find so much of bliss, 
 Hid in the rapture of a kiss! 
 A dream, you'll say. Well, be it so, 
 If dreams possessed but half the bliss, 
 I would that life were but a dream, 
 And always just the same as this. 
 
92 HOME 
 
 HOME. 
 
 SURELY there is no place in all this wide earth 
 So dear to my heart, as the scenes of my birth; 
 The home of my childhood, though long years have 
 
 passed by, 
 Still lives in my heart and will live till I die. 
 
 The homes of my kindred with tears I recall, 
 For the silence of death is over them all; 
 Only a memory is all that remain, 
 Of joy or sorrow, of pleasure or pain. 
 
 Around it clings the holiest memories; 
 
 The swift wings of time have swept over the years; 
 
 No longings will recall or vain entreaties, 
 
 Sooth the sorrow or lessen the tears. 
 
 Of all sweet words none surely are sweeter, 
 
 Than home, the scene of childhood, the place of our 
 
 birth; 
 None touch life or its deep fountains deeper, 
 None are so pure in all the wide earth. 
 
 Oh, just for one hour, one short hour, 
 To be in the home of my childhood again; 
 To feel the thrill of its loving power, 
 Whatever it may be of pleasure or pain; 
 For all dear spots on this wide, wide earth, 
 None are so dear as the place of my birth. 
 
 Home of my childhood, where my infant feet, 
 With matchless care were first taught to move; 
 
HOME 93 
 
 My tongue to lisp a name, none so sweet, 
 A mother's boundless love will ever prove. 
 
 How oft memory brings back to my heart 
 
 The scenes of that home, long vanished from view; 
 
 The friends from whom I thought we would never 
 
 part. 
 Alas! They have vanished, passed away too, 
 Only a ruin of that home now remains; 
 What was then a joy, is now only a pain. 
 
94 THE SMALLEST A BLESSING 
 
 THE SMALLEST A BLESSING. 
 
 THE REASON is plain, 'tis divinity, 
 Which fashions and shapes our lives, 
 Even the matter of affinity 
 Is fated in choosing our wives; 
 And why complain if they are small, 
 If to us they are ever a blessing; 
 But should they prove only a squall, 
 Termagants we get for caressing. 
 Good Lord, deliver us — the smaller the better, 
 While being our state is so double, 
 Life is long enough always to test her, 
 And short enough always for trouble. 
 
 Ladies sometimes have a fashion, 'tis said, 
 Of wearing the breeches when wed. 
 I don't know how this is, 
 The truth, however, I think is: 
 That in a matter of habit so plain, 
 They have been woefully slandered again. 
 But should it prove true, three cases in nine, 
 Mind, I mean no offense by the saying, 
 The devil a jig, what a figure to shine 
 Would they present in the playing. 
 Of husband for man, only let her, 
 The worst part of life would soon be the better, 
 And not a whit would they care, which was the 
 smallest, 
 Confoundedly soon they would be the tallest. 
 
SOMETHING BETTER COMING 95 
 
 SOMETHING BETTER COMING. 
 
 TTAVE you never felt my brother 
 
 •*■ -*■ That somewhere in the by and by, 
 
 There is coming something better, 
 
 Something better for you and I? 
 Tho' our hearts be burdened sore, 
 
 Tho' our lives be full of pain, 
 Have you not felt the touching shore 
 
 Of something better we'll attain? 
 Oh, surely somewhere by and by, 
 
 There's something better for you and I. 
 
 Oh have you grown weary brother, 
 
 Waiting, waiting, you know not why; 
 For the something that is coming — 
 
 That is coming for you and I? 
 Has your heart not felt the throbbing 
 
 When weary with the waiting pain 
 Of that mystic something touching — 
 
 As the rain drop in the rain? 
 Oh, surely somewhere by and by, 
 
 There is something better for you and I. 
 
 Oh, have you never felt my brother, 
 
 The touch of shores and things unseen; 
 Of the blessedness that's coming, 
 
 The hopefulness that lays between? 
 Don't you feel the kindly Sower 
 
 Has sown some golden grains for you, 
 And the reaping time is coming 
 
 If we are only, only true? 
 
96 SOMETHING BETTER COMING 
 
 Oh, surely somewhere by and by, 
 
 There is something better for you and I. 
 Zanesville, O., April IS, '96. 
 
AUGUSTUS MOORE 97 
 
 AUGUSTUS MOORE. 
 
 /^\H! MY dear Augustus, why are you slow; 
 ^-^ So very slow to ask me, when you know 
 I have been waiting these two years and more. 
 For you to pop the question, my dear Augustus 
 Moore? 
 
 You are not timid, I know full well, for that 
 Is not a fault of yours, whatever else, but that 
 Can never be a sin laid at your door — 
 Then why don't you pop the question, my dear 
 Augustus Moore? 
 
 Papa and Ma'ma say, you mean no good, 
 Mind, I don't think so, I only wish you would 
 Tell them, and get their consent before, 
 And then pop the question, my dear Augustus 
 Moore. 
 
 I feel so strange, aye, very strange, my dear, 
 Each time you come, I think it is so queer 
 In you to come and go, just as of yore, 
 And never pop the question, my dear Augustus 
 Moore. 
 
 You are waiting, so am I, for something to turn up, 
 I only want the question put, and that will fill my 
 
 cup. 
 I'm growing old, the years turn o'er and o'er. 
 Why don't you pop the question, my dear Augustus 
 
 Moore? 
 
98 THE GOOD SHEPHERD 
 
 THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 
 
 i^\H, SHEPHERD of marvelous love, 
 
 ^- , An ever flowing fountain. 
 
 Seeking with diligent care, 
 
 And all the night's dangers share, 
 
 Alone, out on the barren mountain — 
 
 The one little ewe lamb 
 
 That had wandered away 
 
 From the flock, the ninety and nine, 
 
 The ninety and nine 
 
 That had not went astray. 
 
 And when the wanderer was found, 
 
 He took it up tenderly in his arms, 
 
 And to his bosom pressing, 
 
 While loving and caressing, 
 
 He bore it away from the night's alarms 
 
 To the fold, the ewe lamb 
 
 That had wandered away 
 
 From the flock, the ninety and nine — 
 
 The ninety and nine 
 
 That went not astray. 
 
 When the lamb was safe in the fold 
 
 The shepherd's love in triumph was crowned. 
 
 In his heart was no sadness, 
 
 Only joy and gladness. 
 
 Greater joy for the lost lamb was found. 
 
 The one little ewe lamb 
 
 That had wandered away 
 
 Than for the ninety and nine — 
 
THE GOOD SHEPHERD 99 
 
 The ninety and nine 
 That went not astray. 
 Zanesville, O., Sept. 25, 1902. 
 
100 ONWARD TOILING 
 
 ONWARD TOILING. 
 
 ONWARD, toiling through the night; 
 Onward, pressing tow'rd the light; 
 Sinless, spotless, radiant light, 
 Saintly beaming on the shore 
 Of a noiseless, tideless river, 
 That is flowing, flowing ever; 
 Onward, onward, halting never, 
 We are pressing ever more. 
 
 Toiling onward, faint and weary, 
 Through the vale so dark and dreary, 
 Watching for the light so cheery, 
 Gleam across our pathway sore. 
 Of life's bitter cup we've tasted, 
 Of life's joys accursed and fated, 
 In the spring time worn and wasted, 
 We press onward, tow'rd the shore. 
 
 Years of anguish, years of sorrow, 
 Woes we from the future borrow, 
 Ills to-day are of the morrow, 
 Bearing our burden on the way. 
 Onward pressing, tow'rd the river; 
 Onward, God of life the giver, 
 Onward pressing, tow'rd Thee ever, 
 Through the darkness to the day. 
 
 We'll tread the vale, up to the light, 
 We'll cross the river, dark and cold, 
 We'll pass beyond the shades of night, 
 
ONWARD TOILING 101 
 
 In robes of white, on streets of gold; 
 We'll hear the anthems then of soul, 
 By angel choirs for mortals given, 
 We'll live for aye within the goal, 
 Life's endless, boundless, heaven. 
 
102 THE BRIDE 
 
 THE BRIDE. 
 
 HPHE TWILIGHT deepens into gloom, 
 ■*■ The shadows lengthen on the wall, 
 The night winds whisper through the room, 
 And yet I hear no footsteps fall, 
 That are welcome to me, 
 That are dear to me — 
 I mark no coming footsteps fall, 
 That are welcome to me. 
 
 The garden gate swings to and fro, 
 
 The yellow leaves come patting down, 
 The autumn winds are sighing low, 
 And yet I hear no footstep sound 
 That is welcome to to me, 
 That is dear to me — 
 I hear no coming footstep sound 
 That is welcome to me. 
 
 The chimes of the village church bell 
 
 Sound gloomily now on my ear, 
 Each note, pealing forth through the dell, 
 Goes trembling away with my tear 
 Of regret that will steal, 
 Of sorrows I feel 
 From the heart for one that was dear, 
 Still affection may feel. 
 
 I hear no words spoke of greeting, 
 
 I know he is not by my side, 
 Blithe bells may tell of our meeting, 
 
THE BRIDE 103 
 
 But never on earth of his bride, 
 For his spirit so free, 
 Gone over the sea, 
 Will never come back o'er the tide, 
 
 With its welcome for me. 
 
104 THE DEAD YEARS 
 
 THE DEAD YEARS. 
 
 F\R DOWN along a shoreless sea the dead years 
 lie, 
 Whose pathless void fills up all intervening space, 
 And fades away in distance dim, no mortal eye 
 Can mark the bounds, or tell where ends the trace, 
 All along the void of time the wrecks lie strown, 
 Great years they were when passed they onward by, 
 But now the merest blots along that endless zone, 
 A speck against the ever over-arching sky. 
 
 Great years they were in God's eternal time, 
 
 The wreck of mighty Empires passed away with 
 
 them, 
 The world grew older, passed beyond its prime, 
 A helpless thing, a wreck which could not stem 
 The never changing current of that tideless sea, 
 Which drifted all things back into dim obscurity. 
 
 How great the past, since morn first flashed along 
 
 the sky, 
 And over Eden held its quivering beam, 
 The countless years all passed in solemn mockery 
 
 An ocean of life swept onward by the stream, 
 Each year lies on the bosom of that dusky sea, 
 Drifting farther into dim futurity. 
 
 The end, a brighter morn shall flash across the 
 
 skies, 
 A second Eden bloom with glorious life, 
 
THE DEAD YEARS 105 
 
 A living Christ from out this sea of death shall rise 
 With healing on his wings for all the nations strife. 
 The dead shall live the past, forgotten in the sea, 
 And time drift no more into dim futurity. 
 
106 REST 
 
 REST. 
 
 T> EST— REST! 
 
 -■■*■ There is no rest, 
 
 'Tis but an idle word at best, 
 
 To-day 
 The moments are 
 Laden deep with care; 
 Bitter woes crowd everywhere. 
 
 To-morrow, 
 
 Is but sorrow 
 Born of to-day, 
 And we hasten on the way. 
 
 Go ask the aged, the weary w aiting, 
 Within life's palid, pale the grating 
 Of the door, the soul that's waiting, 
 
 Where is the rest? 
 The answer, 'tis a phantom seeming, 
 'Tis a wild, immortal dreaming, 
 'Tis the day of peace that's beaming, 
 
 On the soul forever more. 
 
 Will we clasp it? 
 
 Will we grasp it? 
 Never! Never, 
 
 This side the river. 
 
 God, the giver 
 
 Of perfect life, Thee ever 
 Is our hope, our hope forever, 
 
 The true rest, 
 
 For all the blest. 
 
REST 107 
 
 Ask the weary, waiting mortal, 
 Waiting at the Heavenly portal, 
 Waiting for the life immortal, 
 
 Where is the rest? 
 Within this life? 
 Within this strife? 
 
 Never! Never. 
 Soul and body ever blending, 
 In the hope of peace unending, 
 Ever with our prayers ascending, 
 
 For the rest — 
 
 The true rest, 
 
 In Heaven, forever more. 
 Here, earthly woes and ills enthral us, 
 Earthly sorrows dark befal us, 
 And the life we bear, appall us. 
 There, peace and joy will reign forever, 
 Bliss eternal, ending never, 
 And the rest — the true rest, ever. 
 
108 UNDER THE SNOW 
 
 UNDER THE SNOW. 
 
 T TNDER the snow, the beautiful snow, 
 ^-^ So crisp and cold, so frail, you know, 
 So pure and white the world below, 
 Are gems of a better and brighter life, 
 Are buds which will bloom into perfect life. 
 Hid away down in the earth below, 
 Hid away down under the snow. 
 
 The icy winter no joy can bring, 
 
 The frost has fettered the breath of spring, 
 
 And crystals hang white on the beard of the king. 
 
 The earth, the earth, with a mother's care, 
 
 Is shielding the life, the young life there, 
 
 While crisp and cold, glistens the snow, 
 
 Over the world, the earth below. 
 
 Fairy spires and crystal domes, 
 Are built upon the sleeping blooms, 
 And far and wide are the whitened tombs, 
 Of the little flowers that are sleeping there, 
 In the frozen earth so cold and bare, 
 Their fragile forms hid away in the earth, 
 Their mother, so cold, who gave them birth. 
 
 When again shall come the beautiful spring, 
 And loosen the fetters of the icy king, 
 And life to the buds and flowers shall bring, 
 Their little hearts swell in beauty and pride, 
 In the glorious light of the summer's tide, 
 And over the earth, aye, everywhere, 
 Beauty and life shall be dwelling there. 
 
UNDER THE SNOW 109 
 
 There are germs of faith and of mortal love, 
 Germs of life and of beauty above, 
 Deep rooted, for aye, in our hearts of love, 
 They will not wake with the rushing tide, 
 They will not bloom in the summer's pride, 
 Waiting the light of the morn above, 
 Waiting the life of divinest love. 
 
110 THE VILLAGE MILLER 
 
 THE VILLAGE MILLER. 
 
 TT ONEST HANS, his life half o'er, 
 
 ■*■ ■*■ Had turn'd many a thrifty penny, 
 
 x\nd wealth seemed smiling at his door 
 
 And kindly friends he had many. 
 
 His simple hearted, honest worth, 
 
 Prized by his neighbors all, 
 
 Had won for him a kindly place 
 
 Within the hearts of all. 
 
 No child or chick within the village. 
 
 No matron or maiden fair, 
 
 No sturdy yeoman of the tillage 
 
 But knew him well, and there 
 
 Were none who would not say, 
 
 Hans is honest as the day. » 
 
 He loved his pipe, so old and brown, 
 
 His favorite mug of beer, 
 
 Which foamed and sparkled all the while 
 
 For him a wealth of cheer — 
 
 And none were happier that was he, 
 
 With pipe and mug a day, 
 
 Sitting within the little mill 
 
 And hearing the wheels at play; 
 
 Watching the ripples run and trill 
 
 Within the bright waters of the bay, 
 
 While the shadows off the hill 
 
 Fell slowly down about the mill. 
 
 A friendly word he had for all 
 Who chanced to pass that way, 
 
THE VILLAGE MILLER 111 
 
 A smile and nod for every one 
 
 In his kindly welcome way. 
 
 He seemed so odd, so genial, too, 
 
 So like one's better self. 
 
 When worth, honest, real and true, 
 
 Shines through the soul of self — 
 
 When the heart is right, and right is worth, 
 
 That seeks for all a way, 
 
 And we claim kin to nobler birth, 
 
 A nobler mould of clay. 
 
 One night a fearful storm arose, 
 
 And clouds o'ercast the sky, 
 
 The lurid lightnings filled the arch 
 
 The darkness veiled on high. 
 
 The thunders rolled with crushing sound 
 
 The hill tops hoar and grey, 
 
 And mountain streams with rush and bound 
 
 O'erleaped their ancient way. 
 
 The morning came, the mill was gone, 
 
 And Hans, ah! where was he? 
 
 The angry waters answered back, 
 
 Swept outward to the sea. 
 
112 EQUAL RIGHTS 
 
 EQUAL RIGHTS. 
 
 ARISE, ye sons of liberty, arise. 
 The morn is breaking through the night, 
 Waiting long years, our eyes 
 Have seen the coming light — 
 The day now dawning in the sky, 
 The glory passing, onward by. 
 Make haste, make haste the way; 
 The chains are broken now, 
 The fetters loosed, the slave is free, 
 The curse is gone, and on his brow 
 A crown of glorious liberty. 
 Make haste, make haste this day, 
 The wave is passing to the tide, 
 When once beyond the other side, 
 No more of glory then to win, 
 For right and liberty — the sin 
 Be yours, make haste the day, 
 The nation's life is right, 
 And liberty is law, 
 All hail the light, 
 Hurrah, hurrah. 
 
 Two hundred thousand deathless braves, 
 
 Now robed in spotless white, 
 
 Have risen from their ensanguined graves 
 
 Enshrined in sinless light, 
 
 Are watching from the sainted sky 
 
 The glory passing onward by — 
 
 The glory of a nation saved, 
 
 Saved by deeds their hearts had braved. 
 
EQUAL RIGHTS 113 
 
 .Make haste, make haste, the day 
 
 Of full and perfect right hath come, 
 
 The nation's cause is won, 
 
 From out the hatred of the strife, 
 
 War and death, and carnage rife, 
 
 Within the Eden of the field. 
 
 No fairer bloom the spirit yield — 
 
 Within the garden of the soul, 
 
 No brighter hopes the life enfold, 
 
 Make haste, make haste this day, 
 
 For liberty and law the way, 
 
 For truth, the honor of the brave, 
 
 And the freedom of the slave, 
 
 For the crushing out of wrong. 
 
 For the right against the strong, 
 
 And the building up anew 
 
 In our hearts with faith the true. 
 
 Make haste, make haste the way, 
 
 The nation's life is right, 
 
 And liberty is law, 
 
 All hail the light, 
 
 Hurrah, hurrah. 
 
114 WILLIE 
 
 WILLIE. 
 
 VlflLLlE, Willie, young and fair, 
 ™ Scarcely ten, with auburn hair, 
 Rosy cheeks and dimple chin, 
 Eyes of blue and the soul within, 
 Meek and pure as his form was fair, 
 Love and faith indwelling there. 
 
 His childish prattle, his roguish glee, 
 His soul so pure, his heart so free, 
 A rosebud bursting into life, 
 A bloom within the spirit of life, 
 A flash of sunlight 'neath a cloud, 
 A joy, sent only for a shroud. 
 Such is life, and what are we, 
 Trusting in faith like unto thee. 
 
 Sweet his life, 'twas only lent, 
 Sweet on earth, his spirit sent, 
 Home it has gone, to endless day, . 
 And the sod is green o'er Willie's clay, 
 Mother, let no tear be shed, 
 No sigh escape thee for the dead, 
 For those who rest no weeping, 
 Your Willie is but sleeping. 
 
 'Neath the willow is his grave, 
 Narrow home for mortal clay. 
 Gone — 'tis written that he gave — 
 Gone — and then he takes away 
 A mortal germ to bloom above, 
 A mortal life into endless love. 
 
LOVE IS DEAD 115 
 
 LOVE IS DEAD. 
 
 T JVE is dead," said a maiden to me, 
 ■" A maiden whose heart was young, 
 And every summer that came was a joy, for she 
 Had waited them one by one. 
 Waiting to add each to her years, 
 When, through her blushes and tears 
 A bride she should wed and weep for joy, 
 Happy the wife of some mother's boy, 
 If ever a bride was she. 
 
 ''Love is dead, ah, well," said she, 
 
 And shook her bright curls when she said it, 
 
 Her roguish smile told plainly to me 
 By never a word did she mean it. 
 
 "Love was old, and blind, you know, 
 So fickle and false you see, 
 And had not a joy in the world for me." 
 No matter, thought I, she will weep for joy, 
 Happy the wife of some mother's boy 
 If ever a bride she will be. 
 
 There were tints of roses her cheeks so fair, 
 That deepened with every summer's sun, 
 And roguish wiles in her golden hair 
 
 Played truant with many a heart undone. 
 A pretty tyrant of love, I ween, 
 
 And love is dead, "Ah, well," said she, 
 "Love was naught in the world to me, 
 I have nothing to care, nothing to fear, 
 Pa and Ma is just as dear 
 As anybody else in the world could be to me." 
 
116 LOVE IS DEAD 
 
 The smile quickly faded, her cheeks were pale, 
 
 The light in her eye grew dim, 
 The shadow of something flitted over her heart, 
 
 That something was only of him. 
 Only of him, were the words I thought, 
 Aye, I knew a wound was there, 
 In that young life, so timid and fair. 
 There are Harry's and John's in the lives of us all, 
 There are Mary's and Fannie's very near, 
 Who live in the past so dreamy, I ween, 
 Are still in the heart ever dear. 
 
EVER FLITTING 117 
 
 A 
 
 EVER FLITTING. 
 
 ND THE shadows ever flitting. 
 To and fro, to and fro; 
 Just beyond my window flitting, 
 Where I'm sitting, sitting, sitting, 
 
 Thinking of the crystal snow. 
 Which the sunlight gloating o'er, 
 Yesterday, is now no more. 
 
 Wondering why its thrilling beauty, 
 
 Long ago, long ago, 
 Won my heart to faith and duty, 
 Won my soul to ceaseless beauty — 
 Trusting God and looking o'er 
 To the bright celestial shore. 
 
 Asking my heart why this was so, 
 Why our lives are never fated, 
 
 Like the snow, like the snow- 
 Why our souls are never freighted 
 With love divine and mercy so, 
 
 As the snow, as the snow. 
 
 When there came a song and twitter, 
 A song of gladness in the glitter 
 
 Of the sunlight gloating o'er, 
 Through my window where I'm sitting, 
 Just beyond the flitting, flitting, 
 
 Came the music floating o'er; 
 
 Every thought and word recalling, 
 Every ill this life befalling 
 
118 EVER FLITTING 
 
 In the weary days of yore, 
 Found a sadness in the thrilling, 
 Gladness of the music filling 
 Every chamber of my being 
 
 It never felt before. 
 
 And I sat there, thinking, thinking, 
 Memory unto memory linking, 
 
 Of the changeless spirits o'er, 
 Faded from this life of sadness, 
 Faded from this home of madness, 
 In a changeless life of gladness, 
 
 On the heavenly shore. 
 
 All the while the music thrilling, 
 Thrilling through my soul, and filling 
 
 It with sadness more and more, 
 Till the tide of sorrow swelling, 
 In this heart and life indwelling, 
 O'erburdened beyond the telling, 
 
 My soul can bear no more. 
 
 And the shadows still are flitting, 
 
 To and fro, to and fro, 
 Just beyond this prison flitting — 
 Soul and sorrow ever knitting 
 
 A double woof of woe. 
 And the music still is swelling, 
 With a tide of love indwelling, 
 
 Ever for this heart I know. 
 Zanesville, July 7, 1869. 
 
o 
 
 THE BIG SHIP CANAL 119 
 
 THE BIG SHIP CANAL. 
 
 CH; MIKE, begorra, and am I not thinking 
 
 Of the purtiest baste that iver shwam in the 
 say, 
 
 Wid its two swate eyes niver winking or blinking. 
 As it wint thro' the wather in the handsomest way. 
 
 Tin miles up the river at the ould dam 
 Wid its ruins all hid in the bramble and briars, 
 Loik the big ship canawl that was iver a sham 
 Invinted to plase the politician liars. 
 
 It was a foin day, and sure I was dreamin', 
 For the big ship wint by, going down to the say, 
 Wid their sails al sit and their banners streamin'. 
 When divil of a one wint by that day. 
 
 Bad cess to the mon and all his relations who in- 
 vinted the plan of the big ship canawl 
 To decaive the poor people who niver had station. 
 For the niver intended to build it at all. 
 
 Thin out wid them all, they are only decaivin, 
 Like the baste that I saw and that it was moin, 
 Wid a flirt of its tail and sure it was lavin, 
 Loik the big ship canawl they spake of so foin. 
 Zanesville, Ohio, July 4, 1902. 
 
120 ANARCHY 
 
 ANARCHY. 
 
 WHAT, art thou here, monster of iniquity, 
 In this fair land with all thy foul brood; 
 What bro't thee hither amongst honest men — 
 To sow dissensions and disquietude, 
 Then slay with fiendish glee those who wronged 
 
 thee not? 
 Take thee hence, monster, get thee gone, 
 The very air is too pure for thee to breathe. 
 
 Thrice in two score years with awful hate, 
 
 Hath been bro't to peril the majesty of law; 
 
 The first time in the days of civil war, 
 
 When strife and bitterness rent the land, 
 
 In the very dawn of peace great Lincoln fell, 
 
 Then hearts wept, yet through the rifted pall 
 
 Men took courage, thy hand struck not the blow. 
 
 The second time when party strife and contention 
 Rent the land and stirred the hearts of men 
 As never before, the Nation was bereft. 
 Garfield, Ohio's loved son, perished then, 
 In manhood's noble prime he went to his death, 
 Not by thy hand; no, it was a mad-man's brain 
 Fired by unholy ambition, struck him down. 
 
 The third, the last, most monstrous of them all, 
 For when, with kindly hand, his great loving heart, 
 Most touching tenderness, reached forth 
 In winsome way to greet his fellowman. 
 Then it was by devilish ingenuity, 
 
ANARCHY 121 
 
 By fiendish hate, in the full sight of all, 
 McKinley fell; thou struck him down. 
 
 But once before hath so foul a deed been wrought, 
 Judas his Lord with a kiss betrayed. 
 Thou, the open hand, the generous heart 
 Scorned, and with fiendish joy the vantage gained, 
 To slay the Nation's chief and liberty in peril. 
 Get thee gone, Monster, take thee hence, 
 The air is too pure for such as thee. 
 
 Zanesville, O., Sept. 24, 1901. 
 
122 THE TO-DATE WOMAN 
 
 THE TO-DATE WOMAN. 
 
 WAS IT folly or fate 
 That "a woman to-date" 
 Bloomers should so sorely distress her? 
 When old Mother Eve 
 Wthout bodice or sleeve 
 Found leaves sufficient to dress her; 
 Then let her alone, 
 With a bike as her throne, 
 And by never a word distress her, 
 A scorcher or flyer, 
 Or a pneumatic tire, 
 No matter what — evil possess her. 
 
 My grandmother's reel. 
 
 Her treadle and wheel, 
 I confess, I own to admire 
 
 So natty and trim 
 
 Was the spindle and rim, 
 A regular scorcher, the flyer, 
 
 How it twisted and turned, 
 
 The flaxen thread burned 
 My grandmother's fingers as fire — 
 
 The long silken fibre 
 
 From the distaff beside her, 
 She gathered and fed to the flyer. 
 
 No bloomers were hers, 
 Nor Astrakan furs — 
 A plain, sensible body was she, 
 
 And thought more when a girl 
 
THE TO-DATE WOMAN 123 
 
 Of the spinning wheel's whirl, 
 Than of any fashionable tea; 
 
 Let the date woman alone 
 
 With the bike as her throne, 
 And by never a word distress her, 
 A scorcher or flyer, 
 
 Or a pneumatic tire, 
 No matter what — evil possess her. 
 Zanesville, July 4, 1896. 
 
PART SECOND 
 
 A History of The North-West Territory in Col- 
 onial Times, and The Ohio Country and Its Set- 
 tlement, papers read before The Muskingum County 
 Pioneer Society. 
 
THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 125 
 
 'THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY IN COLON- 
 IAL TIMES." 
 
 The following excellent paper on "The North- 
 west Territory in Colonial Times" was read by 
 Samuel Oldham before the Muskingum County 
 Pioneer Association, April, 1902: 
 
 The northwest as a territory was without sig- 
 nificance and wholly unknown to colonial history 
 prior to the year 1609. Not that there was no 
 "northwest," for that had always existed, but as 
 applied to a distinctive part of the north American 
 continent, it was, as we have said, without signifi- 
 cance. 
 
 For nearly a hundred years England, France and 
 Spain had been too busily engaged in settling the 
 boundaries of their discoveries along the coast line 
 to give much attention to what lay in the interior 
 of the continent between the two oceans. In the 
 closing years of the fifteenth century a tacit agree- 
 ment had been reached between these powers, which 
 neither intended to keep, by which France was to 
 have the northern, England the central, and Spain 
 the southern portion of the discoveries in North 
 America. 
 
 We can best fix the boundaries of these sepa- 
 rate divisions by ascertaining what England's share 
 was in this potential divide. By chartered grants 
 from the crown it would appear that her territorial 
 acquisition extended from the 34th degree to the 
 45th degree of north latitude — from Cape Hatteras 
 to the bay of Fundy. This agreement was founded 
 
126 THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 
 
 upon a no more equitable right than that of dis- 
 covery which carried with it the right of conquest 
 and occupancy, as viewed in the light of succeeding 
 events. 
 
 This right of discovery with that of conquest 
 and subsequent spoilation have ever gone hand in 
 hand. Might is a more potential factor in deter- 
 mining the title to valuable domain, where the right 
 of discovery is involved, than any theoretical knowl- 
 edge of the equities of the case. It can not certainly 
 be said that this factor was wanting in either the 
 original grants made by the powers in interest, or 
 by those who held under them. The Spanish pol- 
 icy in the new world was a mere lust for gold, 
 combined with a religious enthusiasm which over- 
 whelmed the natives in the most brutal and inhu- 
 man manner, and fixed in their minds the Span- 
 iards' conception of heaven as an infinite series 
 of dollar marks, illuminated by pillaged and burn- 
 ing homes. 
 
 The French policy was the most kindly and 
 generous, into which the religious idea had been 
 infused, and yet their mission stations and trading 
 posts would indicate that the pathway to celestial 
 bliss was lined with beaver, sable, marten and other 
 valuable furs of the north which found their way 
 through these chanels into the luxurious homes of 
 the gay French metropolis across the ocean. 
 
 The English policy was the most expansive and 
 persistent of those engaged in the division of the 
 continent, yet it was not without marks of sav- 
 agery and indifference to the welfare of the natives, 
 in whom the real title to the vast domain vested. 
 
THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 127 
 
 The colonizing impulse felt in England in the 
 closing years of Queen Bess' reign, had doubtless 
 been much stimulated by the success of the Nether- 
 lands in planting colonies, so that it finally made 
 itself felt in the person of the English monarch, 
 James I, who in the 3'ear 1606 wranted two char- 
 ters, one to a company of gentlemen in London, 
 under the name of the London company, with head- 
 quarters in that city; the other to a company of 
 gentlemen known as the Plymouth company, with 
 its center of influence at Plymouth. To the Lon- 
 don company the grant covered the territorial zone 
 lying between the 34th degree and 41st degree 
 north latitude, and to the Plymouth company the 
 zone between 38th degree and 45th degree north 
 latitude. 
 
 These grants covered all the territory within 
 England's control on the continent, and surely ex- 
 tensive enough to satisfy the most pestilent land- 
 grabber of modern times, for in addition to the 
 almost boundless sweep of their pathway along the 
 Atlantic coast, extended across the continent from 
 ocean to ocean, where the foot of a white man 
 had never trod. Nothing was mentioned in either 
 of these grants about the "northwest" — that undis- 
 covered country lying beyond the Alleghenies. One 
 circumstance connected with these grants should 
 be mentioned, that is that the grants were over- 
 lapping each other three degrees of latitude, which 
 doubtless in time would have caused trouble had 
 not the monarch been wise enough to stipulate that 
 neither company should make settlements on this 
 
128 THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 
 
 overlapping territory within one hundred miles of 
 any settlement made by the other. 
 
 We have said that only two charters were grant- 
 ed by the English monarch and by the scope of 
 these it would appear that only two were 
 intended and these finally crystalized into the 
 Jamestown settlement in Virginia, and the Ply- 
 mouth settlement in Massachusetts. Here we have 
 a fine illustration of that subtle irony of natural 
 conditions in which the narrow and prejudiced plans 
 of men are sometimes set aside and the larger and 
 more comprehensive purposes of Divine Providence 
 introduced into the activities of life, for instead of 
 two colonies as designed by the king and his ad- 
 visors, there arose thirteen and these in time threw 
 off the yoke of English sovereignty, the authority 
 that had chartered and nurtured the parent societies 
 and with a unity of interests, a unity of purpose 
 and unity of effort, under the guiding care of di- 
 vine providence, established for themselves and pos- 
 terity a mighty nation stretching from ocean to 
 ocean and from the tropics to the Arctic seas. 
 
 The companies did not prove the financial suc- 
 cess expected by the English shareholders, so that 
 in 1609 the charter of the London company was 
 amended and a like favor shown the Plymouth com- 
 pany eleven years later. The amended charter of 
 the London company with enlarged powers pro- 
 vided that its grant should include all the lands 
 lying along the Atlantic ocean for 200 miles north 
 and south of Pt. Comfort and "up into the lands 
 throughout from sea to sea, west and northwest." 
 In this grant we have the first mention that lands 
 
THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 129 
 
 existed in the northwest, and what is perhaps more 
 important England's asserted interest and authority 
 therein. This claim was to be controverted in two 
 ways. First, by the French missionaries and trad- 
 ers pushing west through the St. Lawrence valley, 
 founding Quebec and Montreal, passing beyond the 
 great lakes, establishing mission stations and trad- 
 ing posts as they went until the whole country had 
 been traversed as far west as the shore of Lake 
 Superior, connecting the remote west with Montreal 
 and Quebec on the St. Lawrence, so that the red 
 man was in a fair way to get the white man's re- 
 ligion in exchange for the red man's fur pelts and 
 later on his country. 
 
 We have arrived at the year 1646, twelve years 
 after Louis XIII of France granted a company of 
 French noblemen and traders a charter covering 
 the entire region of the St. Lawrence valley, which 
 they named New France. We are particular in 
 naming this chartered French colony, for in it was 
 the dream of a great French empire on the new 
 continent, and out of it was to come a blight like 
 the frost of a mid-winter's night on tender vegeta- 
 tion, over the English colonies froom the lakes to 
 the seas, east and west of the Alleghenies, that made 
 the north and west a seething caldron of savagery 
 and greed. 
 
 We have said that England's claim of domain 
 in the west and northwest was controverted in two 
 ways. The first we have outlined, in the French 
 possessions in the north and west, the other came 
 from the south and west, and like the first it was 
 from England's hereditary foe, the French. In 1669 
 
130 THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 
 
 two devoted French missionaries of the Society 
 of Jesus, Fathers Marquett and Jolliet, crossed the 
 portage from the Fox river to the Wisconsin, and 
 with their frail bark canoes worked their way down 
 the latter river until they reached the mighty Mis- 
 sissippi, pouring its turbulent waters southward. 
 Without hesitation they continued their voyage 
 past the mouth of the Missouri, then of the Ohio, 
 and not until they reached the mouth of the Ar- 
 kansas did they halt, when being satisfied that the 
 majestic river found its way into the Gulf of Mex- 
 ico, they abandoned their voyage and returned to 
 the lakes. 
 
 The reports made by the Jesuit fathers of the 
 mighty river pouring its world of water to the 
 south, the semitropical climate through which it 
 passed, the seeming boundless extent and fertility 
 of the soil and the many strange tribes of Indians 
 hitherto unknown that lined its banks, was quickly 
 enough carried across the ocean by Robert Chevel- 
 ier de La Salle to the French monarch, Louis XIII, 
 who gave him a grant of valuable privileges, with 
 authority to add the vast Mississippi valley to the 
 dominions of France. It was La Salle's mind that 
 formulated the vast scheme of French empire 
 in the new world, it was by his untiring energy that 
 colonies were planted, the vast regions of the Mis- 
 sissippi valley explored from the gulf to the lakes, 
 forts constructed, mission stations and trading posts 
 established and the semblance at least of French 
 authority maintained; and while thus engaged per- 
 ished, being treacherously assassinated by two 
 French soldiers accompanying him on a trip to 
 
THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 131 
 
 the lakes for relief of a starving settlement at Fort 
 St. Louis. 
 
 The work which fell from La Salle's nerveless 
 hands was taken up with vigor by Lemoine d'lbber- 
 ville and his two brothers, not, however, without 
 serious difficulty with the Indians. An expedition 
 to chastise the Chickasaw nation was defeated. 
 D'Artaguette, governor of the Illinois country, the 
 leader of the expedition, was captured and after- 
 wards burned at the stake, the only instance, I 
 think, of a territorial governor meeting so tragic 
 a fate. 
 
 It was not until 1748 that France laid formal 
 claim to the territory south of Lake Erie and west 
 of the Alleghenies, by burying at the most impor- 
 tant points leaden plates engraved with the arms 
 of France. Military and trading posts had been 
 established at Verango, Erie, Du Quesne, now 
 Pittsburg, and Niagara, with some sixty others in 
 the Illinois country and the valley of the Missis- 
 sippi. It was plain enough that New France was 
 not to be abandoned or set aside without a struggle, 
 a supreme effort in which the red man was to be 
 an important factor, in the end the victim of both 
 in the approaching contest of the two world pow- 
 ers for dominion and empire. 
 
 Let us now turn our attention to the companies 
 chartered by James I, in 1606. The London com- 
 pany's charter was amended in 1609, and in 1620 a 
 like favor was shown the Plymouth company — to 
 be more exact it was a new charter, rather, than 
 an amended grant and covered the territorial zone 
 between the 40th and 48th degree north latitude, ex- 
 
132 THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 
 
 tending from the southern point of Long Island 
 Sound to the northerly point touched by the St. 
 John river and sweeping in a broad zone across 
 the continent from ocean to ocean. You will notice 
 that the territory named in this grant cut through 
 the northwest of the London company, and the 
 subsequent grant of the French king in 1634 of the 
 St. Lawrence valley. While it did this it partially 
 rectified the overlapping boundaries of the two 
 grants of 1606 by a seeming shave of the whole 
 territory three degrees further north. 
 
 The entire region mentioned in this grant was 
 named New England, and the first settlement made 
 within its limits was in 1620 at Plymouth, by some 
 English Puritans, who came over from Holland. 
 They were intruders on the lands of the Plymouth 
 company and it was not until 1621 that the council 
 made them a grant of lands which by a curious 
 oversight they failed to either bound or locate. The 
 grant contained authority to set up a government 
 and thus in a measure legalized the settlement which 
 had been made. In 1629 the Plymouth council 
 granted them a full charter, but as this grant was 
 not confirmed by the crown, the government at 
 Plymouth was deemed irregular. 
 
 In 1628 a body of Puritans from England ob- 
 tained a grant of land from the Plymouth council, 
 bounded north and south by parallel lines drawn 
 three miles north of the Merrimack river and three 
 miles south of the Charles river, extending from 
 ocean to ocean. The grant was confirmed by King 
 Charles II, in 1629, and the grantees were styled 
 "The Governor and Company of the Massachusetts 
 
THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 133 
 
 Bay in New England." In the year 1630 the entire 
 Plymouth company came over from England to 
 Massachusetts Bay, merging the colony and parent 
 society in one. In 1684 the charter of 1629 was 
 declared forfeited, and an attempt to make it a royal 
 colony having failed, a second charter was granted 
 by the crown, by which the Plymouth colony was 
 merged into Massachusetts Bay, never again to be 
 separated. 
 
 In 1634-'35 and '36 some colonists from Massa- 
 chusetts Bay, for the better carrying out of their 
 ideas of civil and religious liberty, made settle- 
 ments at Hartford, Weathersfield and Windsor on 
 the Connecticut river without either a charter of 
 government or title to the lands they occupied, oth- 
 er than that which they had obtained from the In- 
 dians, until 1662, when Charles II gave them a 
 charter covering the lands between 41st degree and 
 42nd degree parallels north latitude and from Prov- 
 idence plantation on the east to the Pacific ocean 
 on the west. This grant again traversed the north- 
 west of the London company and was the basis of 
 the claims of Connecticut to the territory in the 
 northern part of Ohio, known as the ''western re- 
 serve" of Connecticut. 
 
 The grant made by Charles II in 1681 to William 
 Penn of the territory between parallels 39 degrees 
 and 42 degrees north latitude, extending westward 
 from the Delaware river five degrees of longitude 
 did not traverse the London company's grant, but 
 was involved in the French claim of dominion west 
 of the Alleghenies. 
 
134 THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 
 
 But one other colonial grant is involved in this 
 question of jurisdiction touching the "northwest" — 
 that of New York, or as it was known in early 
 colonial times, as ''New Netherland." Henry Hud- 
 son, an experienced navigator, under the patronage 
 of some London merchants, made two expeditions 
 to find a northwest passage to India without suc- 
 cess, when his London patrons becoming dissatis- 
 fied, he took service with the Hollanders and within 
 a year made the discovery of the majestic Hudson, 
 so named in his honor, sailed up its tranquil waters 
 as far as the present site of Albany, the first white 
 man that had ever trod on its shores; then hastily 
 returning to New York bay he took formal posses- 
 sion of the country in the name of Holland. The 
 Dutch, extending their explorations, laid claim to 
 the whole coast lying between the Connecticut and 
 Delaware rivers, with the territory now included in 
 New Jersey and Delaware, and ultimately the 
 whole valley of the Hudson, giving it the name 
 of the New Netherlands. 
 
 England had laid claim to all these lands prior 
 to 1606, for they were included in the Plymouth 
 grant which preceded Hudson's discoveries at least 
 three years, and notice was promptly given the 
 Dutch to discontinue their settlements along the 
 Hudson, as well as in all parts of the country to 
 which they had made claim. Notwithstanding this 
 warning the Dutch West India company in 1623 
 brought over some thirty families of Walloons, Pro- 
 testants, from the frontier between Flanders and 
 France, and settled them on the lower end of Man- 
 hattan Island, which they named New Amsterdam. 
 
THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 135 
 
 In 1664 Charles II gave the entire country of 
 the Netherland to his brother, James, Duke of 
 York, who at once dispatched an armed force to 
 the Hudson, which compelled the Dutch governor 
 to surrender, when the English took possession of 
 the province and gave it the name of New York. 
 It is difficult to understand what claim New York 
 could have had in the northwest territory, yet at the 
 close of the Revolutionary War, when the states 
 ceded their territories to the general government, 
 New York laid claim to interests in the northwest. 
 
 We have noted only those colonies whose grants 
 of land in some way or another were in conflict 
 with the London company's charter of 1609 to the 
 northwest territory, out of which in time the states 
 of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan and Wisconsin, 
 were carved. The French claim not only ran coun- 
 ter to all of these grants, but denied the sovereignty 
 of England in all the territories west of the Alle- 
 ghenies. With this complex situation of affairs, war 
 was inevitable, sooner or later. The cause existed, 
 the opportunity was wanting. This was furnished 
 in 1688, when Louis XIV of France espoused the 
 cause of James II, the dethroned English king. 
 
 War is momentous in a nation's life, especially 
 so when greed and ambition are underlying forces; 
 it is the act of the few while the many are the 
 sufferers. What right had the many to complain? 
 Was not the divine right of kings in question here? 
 — hence war ensued both on the continent and in 
 the colonies, especially so in the colonies where it 
 raged with inconceivable fury. Many of the New 
 England settlements were almost annihilated by the 
 
136 THE NORTHWEST TETRRITORY 
 
 Indians who were incited in their bloody work by 
 French missionaries at Montreal and Quebec. The 
 fathers, it would seem, had forgotten the glor- 
 ious message of the advent of the meek and lowly 
 Nazarene, "of peace and good will to men," and 
 aroused in the minds of their converts all the brutal 
 savagery latent in their natures to burn, pillage 
 and destroy. 
 
 The treaty of Ryowick in 1697 put an end to 
 the war and brought peace to the colonies. The 
 cause, however, continued, and in five years the 
 war began again, known as Queen Ann's war, with 
 all the inhumanities that marked the preceding con- 
 flict. Again peace was proclaimed, at Utrecht, 
 France, ceding Acadia — Nova Scotia — to England. 
 
 Thirty j^ears have passed, years of peace to the 
 colonies, when what is known as King George's 
 war, or the war of the Austrian succession, broke 
 out in Europe, France and England being on oppo- 
 site sides. The conflict soon spread to the colonies, 
 and for four years more the frontier settlements were 
 subjected to the savage attacks of the Indians, in- 
 cited to their bloody work by the French allies. 
 
 All of these conflicts were but the prelude to 
 that which was to come between these hereditary 
 foes to decide which of them should control the 
 destinies of the new world. The contest began 
 in 1755 with the defeat and death of General Brad- 
 dock near Fort Duquesne, now Pittsburgh, and 
 continued with varying fortune until 1759, when 
 General Wolf defeated the French and captured 
 Quebec, which substantially brought the war to a 
 close, although the treaty of peace was not signed 
 
THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 137 
 
 in Paris until 1763, when France ceded to England 
 all her Canadian possessions, the Ohio valley, to- 
 gether with all her territories east of the Mississippi 
 river, with the exception of Louisiana and the is- 
 land of New Orleans, which had been ceded to 
 Spain. 
 
 Thus perished the French dream of empire in 
 the new world. It was charming, yea, enchanting, 
 while it endured, but the attainable was not within 
 its possibilities. The territory which France ceded 
 to Spain was immense, it included all the country 
 now embraced in the states of Louisiana, Arkansas, 
 Missouri, Nebraska, Colorado, Iowa, Kansas, the 
 Dakotas and the greater part of Minnesota. When 
 the insanity of the French people known as Laws 
 Mississippi financial scheme arose, Spain recon- 
 veyed the whole territory back to France. On the 
 collapse of the Mississippi bubble, Napoleon, as 
 first consul, sold the whole of the immense terri- 
 tory to the United States for fifteen million of dol- 
 lars. Thus the United States perfected the titles 
 to the grants made to the London and Plymouth 
 colonies in 1606 and 1609. 
 
 What a lesson the history presents to the 
 thoughtful and the studious. Of the three great 
 world powers, France, England and Spain, which 
 took part in the Indian spoilation, England's sov- 
 ereignty alone touches any part of the vast terri- 
 tories held by them in North America. Her Cana- 
 dian possessions, wrested from France alone, re- 
 main to her as a dower of greed. The two colonies 
 she chartered multiplied to thirteen, then threw off 
 the yoke of her oppression, with faith in God, con- 
 
138 THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY 
 
 fidence in themselves, with friendship cemented by 
 the blood of the revolution, they built for them- 
 selves and posterity the fairest and freest fabric 
 of human government that ever arose among men. 
 
THE OHIO COUNTRY 139 
 
 THE OHIO COUNTRY AND ITS SETTLE- 
 MENT. 
 
 At a former meeting of this society I had the 
 honor of presenting for the consideration of its 
 members and others who were present on that oc- 
 casion, a paper outlining in the briefest possible 
 manner consistent with truth a history of the north- 
 west in colonial times. The paper was not intended 
 to enter into the almost infinite details of colonial 
 settlements, which it did not, but solely to bring 
 vividly to mind, the origin of the Northwestern 
 territory, and its subsequent relation to the colon- 
 ies. The present paper is only intended to record 
 some of the notable events that were in one way 
 or another connected with the territory immediately 
 preceding the revolt of the colonies from the moth- 
 er country. 
 
 All of that immense wilderness, indifferently de- 
 scribed, sometimes, as the Ohio country, again as 
 the Northwestern territory, sometimes as the 
 Northwest, and not infrequently as the Illinois 
 country and the west, with boundaries still more 
 indefinite, which, since the time of which we are 
 speaking, has been by federal authority and the 
 popular will, carved into six magnificent, populous, 
 compact states, and these incorporated into the 
 general government. The immense territory of 
 which the Northwest was a part, extending in a 
 magnificent sweep from the Alleghenies on the 
 east to Mississippi on the west, and from the frozen 
 regions of the Hudson bay to the Magnolia blooms 
 
140 THE OHIO COUNTRY 
 
 on the gulf, passed from the possession of the 
 French monarch to English sovereignty by the 
 treaty of Paris in 1763, which brought to a close 
 the French and Indian war, This treaty, while it 
 passed to England, such authority as the French 
 had exercised in the wilderness by conquest, treaty 
 or discovery did not, nor was it intended to, affect 
 the Indian title to the lands. Within the scope of 
 the treaty concessions as it crossed the northwest 
 of the London company's grant of 1609 was the 
 homes of many Indian tribes, who were members 
 of one or the other of two powerful Indian nations. 
 The Iroquois, or Five Nations, as they were known 
 in Canada, or the Six Nations, as they were called 
 in the colonies was 
 
 A Powerful Confederacy, 
 
 Consisting of the Mohawks, the Senecas, Cuyu^as, 
 the Onondagas, Oneidas, and since 1722 the Tus- 
 caroras. This last named tribe had removed from 
 the Carolinas owing to the encroachment of the 
 whites and were given lands by the Senecas. This 
 confederacy claimed all the lands south of Ottawa 
 and between the lakes, Ontario, Erie and Huron, 
 the larger part of the lands in New York and the 
 country along the south shore of Lake Erie. They 
 also claimed a surzainty by right of conquest over 
 all the country as far west as the Mississippi. 
 
 The second confederate nation was the Algon- 
 quins, the bitter foes of the Iroquois, and curiously 
 enough consisting of the very tribes over which the 
 surzainty was supposed to extend. There were some 
 twenty confederate tribes in the Algonquin nation, 
 
THE OHIO COUNTRY 141 
 
 the Miamis, the Shawnees, Delawares, Pequoids, Ot- 
 tawas, the Illinois, Chippewas, Kickapoos, Pota- 
 watamies, Sacs and Foxes, Mohegans, Narragan- 
 sets and some other smaller tribes which are not 
 named as occupants of the Northwest. This nation 
 claimed proprietary rights in the lands in Ken- 
 tucky, Tennessee, the Carolinas, Ohio, Indiana, Illi- 
 nois, Michigan, Wisconsin and Minesota, together 
 with the New England states, the eastern part of 
 New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland and Virginia. 
 Whatever may have ben the authority of the nation 
 over the tribes composing it, at least in 1750 and 
 doubtless long before, had almost, if not quite, 
 ceased to exist. The lands west of the Alleghenies, 
 north and south of the Ohio, which both nations 
 claimed, had never been sold to the whites, yet 
 the crown had granted these lands to the colonies 
 by the terms of their charters, had directed his 
 majesty's council in Virginia to locate 500,000 acres 
 to the Ohio company of the lands along the Ohio, 
 and the Virginia government had authorized the 
 appropriation of 200,000 acres in the Ohio county 
 for the soldiers of the colony engaged in the French 
 and Indian wars with a further appropriation of 
 25,000 acres in the same country to George Wash- 
 ington for his military services in that struggle. In 
 addition to all these appropriations of lands west 
 of the Alleghenies settlers had flocked to the coun- 
 try and built their cabins and began clearing up 
 the lands for future homes. The rich soil in the val- 
 leys along the mountain streams was alluring to the 
 settlers from the sterile soil of the New England 
 hills. 
 
142 THE OHIO COUNTRY 
 
 Tomahawk Claims. 
 
 In addition to all this, Indian traders, hunters 
 and hardy pioneers had been busy locating Toma- 
 hawk claims in the valleys along the western slope 
 of the mountains. These tomahawk claims were 
 made by girdling some trees near a spring or other 
 water supply, in desirable locations, and the trees 
 so marked were a notice of the pre-emption of the 
 land. These claims in time became very abundant 
 in the market, for they were bought and sold openly 
 in the settlements. The resullt of all this disregard 
 of Indian rights led to ferocious and bloody re- 
 prisals on the part of the savages, and gave Mr. 
 Withers ample material for his Border Wars and 
 Mr. Dodridge for his notes on Virginia. The first 
 settlers in the Ohio country were brave, fearless 
 men. It was said of them that they purchased their 
 lands with bullets and surveyed them with toma- 
 hawks. However be that as it may, it was clearly evi- 
 dent that the Indians were determined that they 
 should not occupy the lands and they were as de- 
 termined that they would. It was war to the knife 
 betwen them and bloody was the conflict all along 
 the frontier settlements for many a year. The 
 white man with his greater persistence won out 
 in the struggle and held the lands. 
 
 I shall not attempt to follow the treaties claimed 
 to have been made with the Indians for their lands 
 west of the Alleghenies, for there were many of 
 them and all were denied by the Six Nations, who 
 asserted that no authority had been given to make 
 the treaties and they were useless without the con- 
 
THE OHIO COUNTRY 143 
 
 sent of the nation, which alone had authority to 
 sell lands. It was not until the treaty at Fort 
 Stanwix in 1768 with the Six Nations and the Shaw- 
 anese and Delawares that the title to the Indian 
 lands between the mountains and the Ohio river 
 was acquired by the king. Nor shall I attempt to 
 describe the Indian defeat at Bushy Run by General 
 Bouquet. Nor of that general's expedition with 
 1,500 men into the Ohio Wilderness as far as the 
 forks of the Muskingum, now Coshocton, or as 
 some claim, to the Indian towns on the Wakatom- 
 iko, near Dresden. Nor of the Pontiac conspiracy 
 in the farther west. Obviously to do so would make 
 the paper, if not uninteresting, at least too long for 
 an occasion like the present. 
 
 The Northwest a Game Preserve. 
 
 Following the treaty of peace between France 
 and England signed at Paris in 1763, by which Eng- 
 land obtained all of the French possessions east 
 of the Mississippi river in America, the territory 
 thus obtained was divided by Royal Proclamation 
 into four distinct and separate governments, Que- 
 bec, East and West Floridas and Granada. The 
 Northwest seems not to have been included in eith- 
 er of the governments by the Royal Proclamation, 
 but remained under the terms of former grants 
 made by the crown. The proclamation, however, 
 did specifically say that until the king's pleasure 
 should be further known that the lands beyond the 
 heads or sources of any of the rivers which fall 
 into the Atlantic were especially reserved to the 
 Indian tribes for hunting grounds. The valley of 
 
144 THE OHIO COUNTRY 
 
 the Ohio and the country about the great lakes 
 were not open to settlement or purchase without 
 special leave and license and all persons who had 
 either wilfully or inadvertently settled upon any 
 lands within the prohibited zone between the Alle- 
 ghenies and the southern limits of the Hundson Bay 
 companies' territories were warned to remove from 
 such settlements and no private purchase of Indian 
 lands within the colonies were permitted, but all 
 such lands were to be purchased by representatives 
 of the crown from the Indians. Thus it will be 
 seen that George III by a single act of arbitrary 
 power set aside not only the whole of the great 
 Northwest as a game preserve, but added to it 
 the country lying between the Alleghenies and the 
 Ohio, ordering the settlers to be removed from 
 the lands. The proclamation certainly cut squarely 
 across the chartered rights of the colonies, rend- 
 ered nugatory the land grant of 600,000 acres to the 
 Loyal company made by the government of Vir- 
 ginia, the grant of 500,000 acres made to the Ohio 
 company by the king himself; set aside the grant 
 of 200,000 acres which had been made to the Vir- 
 ginia troop in the recent war, and in terms an- 
 nulled Washington's grant of 25,000 acres in the 
 Ohio country for military services in the same 
 struggle. No act that it was possible for the king 
 to do could have been more satisfactory and pleas- 
 ing to the Indians than this and none could have 
 been more unsatisfactory and displeasing to the 
 colonies, the chartered land companies and settlers 
 who held claims in one form or another under the 
 king's sanction to the lands now set aside as an 
 
THE OHIO COUNTRY 145 
 
 Indian game preserve. It is not, therefore, to be 
 wondered at that in the revolutionary war which 
 afterwards ensued all, or nearly all, the Indian 
 tribes in the Northwest took sides with the mother 
 country against the colonies. We must remember 
 too, that in nearly all the colonies bounties were 
 paid for. 
 
 Indian Scalps. 
 
 Virginia paid ten pounds for each Indian cap- 
 tured or killed. Governor Penn by proclamation 
 dated July 7, 1764, for the capture or scalp in proof 
 of the death of an Indian the following bounties: 
 For every male above the age of ten years cap- 
 tured, one hundred and fifty dollars; scalped, being 
 killed, one hundred and thirty-four dollars, and for 
 every female Indian enemy and every male under 
 ten years of age captured, one hundred and thirty dol- 
 lars; for every female above the age of ten years, 
 scalped, being killed, fifty dollars. The Maryland 
 bounty was as much as fifty pounds; New Hamp- 
 shire and Massachusetts varied from eight to one 
 hundred pounds. Even Washington was not averse 
 to scalp bounties, as shown by his letter to Gov- 
 ernor Dunwiddi, written about this time. (See 
 Sparks' Life of Washington, Vol. 11, p. 136.) 
 
 It has been said that this proclamation was the 
 first charter of the great Northwest, if an instru- 
 ment can be so called that was prohiibitive in its 
 character, and not administrative, that was de- 
 signed to create a great game preserve in the re- 
 gion to which it applied. Sir Guy Carleton, gover- 
 nor of Quebec, testified before a committee of the 
 
146 THE OHIO COUNTRY 
 
 house of lords during the pendency of the Quebec 
 resolutions that the Ohio country was in his pro- 
 vince, but could not tell just where its boundaries 
 were; he said it was inhabited by beavers, otters 
 and Indians. If his testimony be correct the Ohio 
 country was under French law from 1763 to 1770, 
 and even afterwards, for the Quebec resolutions 
 continued the French laws in force until 1790, when 
 they were superseded. The only change of impor- 
 tance was in curtailing the authority of justices of 
 the peace in civil cases, especially in the seizure and 
 sale of lands without other process than of their 
 own courts. The act continued the stipends to the 
 church and clergy in force under French rule. The 
 population of the province was mostly those of the 
 Catholic faith and the proclamation with the sub- 
 sequent resolutions gave great satisfaction to the 
 people of the province. Had King George III been 
 preparing for the revolt of the colonies he could 
 not have done two wiser acts to weaken the colon- 
 ies and strengthen his government against them 
 than the Quebec resolutions and the proclamation 
 making the Northwest an Indian game preserve, 
 for both the Indians and Canadians were steadfast 
 friends of the English government in the revolu- 
 tion. Benjamin Franklin, with his eloquence, and 
 Bishop Carrol, with his influence, were unable to 
 swerve the Canadians from their allegiance to the 
 crown. 
 
 The Ohio Company. 
 
 There was organized in Virginia and Maryland 
 in the year 1748 a company known as the Ohio 
 
THE OHIO COUNTRY 147 
 
 company, which, however, should not be confound- 
 ed with the Ohio company organized at Bunch of 
 Grapes tavern in Boston, Massachusetts, some thirty 
 eight years later, which made the first Ohio settle- 
 ment at Marietta and of which our friend, Captain 
 Goddard, is so justly proud. The comoany had the 
 same objects in view as that of its more recent 
 namesake at Marietta, the settlement of the Ohio 
 country and the further purpose of trade with the 
 Indians, which the Marietta company at first con- 
 sisted of ten members, but afterwards a large num- 
 ber of others became associated with them. I wish 
 I was able to give you the names of the first mem- 
 bers of the company, as well as the names of those 
 who were afterwards associated with them, as the 
 list might bring to light some underlying causes 
 not stated in the list of grievances set forth in the 
 immortal Declaration of Independence. Mr. Thom- 
 as Lee, president of his majesty's Virginia council, 
 was the moving spirit in the enterprise and the 
 first president of the company. On his death, which 
 occurred before the company was fairly launched, 
 Lawrence Washington, a son-in-law of Lord Fair- 
 fax, and half brother of George Washington, was 
 chosen to the presidency of the company, which 
 had been made vacant by the death of Mr. Lee, a 
 position which he held for some five years and 
 until his death, when George Washington as the 
 executor of his brother's estate, succeeded to the 
 presidency of the company and continued at its 
 head until the company finally disappeared in the 
 Walpole company. Augustine Washington was a 
 member. So was Governor Franklin of New Jer- 
 
148 THE OHIO COUNTRY 
 
 sey, a son of Benjamin Franklin, of revolutionary 
 fame; Governor Dunwiddi of Virginia, Patrick Hen- 
 ry, Mr. Hanbury, a rich merchant of London, was 
 a member and the company's agent in England until 
 succeeded by Benjamin Franklin. Colonel Thomas 
 Cresup of Maryland, was also a member. The ob- 
 ject of the company was to secure from the crown 
 a grant of land for settlements in the Ohio country, 
 and to trade with the Indians. Thomas Hanbury, 
 the London agent, presented the company's peti- 
 tion to the king for half a million of acres of land on 
 the 
 
 South Side of the Ohio. 
 
 Between the Monongahela and Kanawha rivers, 
 with the privilege of selecting a portion of the land 
 on the north side. Two hundred thousand acres 
 were to be taken up at once and one hundred fam- 
 ilies were to be settled within seven years and a 
 fort was to be built and garrisoned at the expense 
 of the company. Earl Halifax, president of the 
 king's privy council, eagerly favored the scheme, 
 for he was anxious to have the lands settled up 
 and thereby make secure the English claim to the 
 country. The king readily assented to the petition 
 and at once dispatched an order to the Virginia 
 government to make the grant, which order was 
 faithfully complied with. The headquarters of the 
 company were at Wills Creek, now Cumberland, 
 Maryland, where a trading post was established and 
 a fort erected. At this point was one of the easiest 
 passes across the mountains and therefore conven- 
 ient and readily accessible to the Indian traders. 
 
THE OHIO COUNTRY 149 
 
 It was from this post that Braddock's ill-starred 
 expedition started into the wilderness to capture 
 Fort Duquesne, and it was through this pass that 
 the great National road reached the west many 
 years after. The French government became 
 alarmed at this conception of lands under royal 
 sanction out of what they had regarded as their 
 domain and at once proceded to take possession of 
 the Ohio valley. This they did by dispatching De 
 Beinville with some two hundred officers and sold- 
 iers, who, in the name of the King of France took 
 possession of the Ohio valley and the western 
 country. The Ohio company gave little heed to 
 the French, but at once sent for 
 
 Christopher Gist, 
 
 A noted and experienced Indian trader, whose home 
 was on the banks of the Yadkin in the Carolinas. 
 The instructions given Gist by the officers of the 
 company were "to go out as soon as possible to 
 the westward of the great mountains in order to 
 search out and discover the lands upon the river 
 Ohio and the adjoining branches of the Mississippi 
 down as low as the great falls thereof; he was to 
 observe the ways and passes through the 
 mountains, the width and depth of the rivers; what 
 nation of Indiians inhabited the lands, with whom 
 they trade and in what they deal. In particular he 
 was to mark all the good level lands, so that they 
 might easily be found, for it was the purpose of the 
 company to go all the way down to the Mississippi 
 if need be. Gist set out on his perilous journey in 
 the latter days of October, 1750. He passed through 
 
150 THE OHIO COUNTRY 
 
 the Delaware towns on the Allegheny, passed on 
 to Logstown on the Ohio, some eighteen miles 
 below the forks of the river. "You are come to set- 
 tle the Indian lands. You shall never go home 
 safe," said the jealous people. He nevertheless pro- 
 ceeded without molestation and traversed the wild- 
 erness to the Muskingum, crossed it near where 
 Coshocton is now located, where there was an In- 
 dian town of about one hundred families. When 
 Gist arrived in sight of the town he rejoiced to see 
 the English flag floating in the wind. He found on 
 inquiry that George Crogan, an English trader, had 
 raised one flag on the chief's lodge and one on his 
 own. On Christmas day Gist proposed to read the 
 prayers appointed for that day by the church of 
 England. Crogan and his followers had no notion 
 to worship after the manner of the king's religion 
 and had it not been for the interpreter, Andrew 
 Monton, and a local blacksmith, Thomas Burney, 
 the pious purpose must have failed. These two 
 men gathered a congregation of Indians and prob- 
 ably then on that Christmas of 1750 was the first 
 occasion when the doctrines of salvation, faith and 
 good works were expounded in all the Northwestern 
 territory. Notwithstanding the Indians implored 
 Gist to remain with them, baptize their children 
 and perform the marriage ceremonies among them, 
 he resumed his perilous journey to the west. He 
 reached the Scioto, passed on to the Ohio, which 
 he crossed, exploring nearly the whole of Kentucky 
 and returned safe to Wills Creek. 
 
THE OHIO COUNTRY 151 
 
 Gist's Report 
 
 To the company was exceedingly satisfactory as to 
 the country, the lands, the rivers, the Indian tribes 
 and other matters with which they had charged him, 
 but he also reported that the agents of the French 
 were actively engaged in trying to induce the west- 
 ern Indians to make war upon the English and pre- 
 vent them from obtaining a footing west of the 
 mountains. The Indians regarded both of the white 
 nations as intruders in their country. They were 
 willing to trade with both, but averse to giving up 
 their lands to either. If the French, said they, 
 "take possession of the north side of the Ohio and 
 the English of the south, where is the Indian's 
 lands?" If the English gained control of the Ohio 
 country they would cut off the French communica- 
 tion between Canada and the Mississippi. The 
 French to prevent this possible condition of affairs 
 commenced to strengthen their position in every 
 possible way. They began their advance into the 
 Ohio valley bv building a fort at Presque Isle, now 
 Erie, in Pennsylvania, another at French creek, a 
 third at Waterford and a fourth at Franklin. The 
 English government became alarmed and instructed 
 the Virginia governor to make remonstrance to the 
 French authorities and warn them of the conse- 
 quence of their acts. The governor selected 
 
 George Washington 
 
 As the bearer of the dispatch, who, with Christo- 
 pher Gist, two interpreters and four servitors, as 
 they are called, set out from Wills Creek about the 
 
152 THE OHIO COUNTRY 
 
 middle of November and in nine days reached the 
 forks of the Ohio, now Pittsburg, and then pro- 
 ceeded to Logstown as instructed by the governor, 
 but their quest being unsuccessful at this point, they 
 at once set out for Verango, where their mission 
 was accomplished. The French officers, after their 
 tongues had ben loosened by wine, frankly told 
 him that they meant to take possession of the Ohio 
 country, which they claimed by virtue of La Salle's 
 discovery sixty years before. On the return of 
 Washington with the reply of the French, the Ohio 
 company determined to forestall them in their mili- 
 tary preparations to hold the country, dispatched a 
 company of some forty men to build a fort at the 
 head of the Ohio, a point which Washington deemed 
 important as a military position in defending the 
 country. The company sent out had partially com- 
 pleted the fort when the French drove them away 
 and proceeded to erect one of the most formidable 
 military works in the western country, which they 
 named Fort Dequesne, and which General Brad- 
 dock intended to capture when he set out on his 
 march through the wilderness and was so signally 
 defeated. The struggle for empire was on between 
 the two most powerful nations of the world and 
 nothing could be done by the Ohio company in 
 pushing forward the enterprise in which it was en- 
 gaged. The company had long before petitioned 
 the king for a modification of its charter. Law- 
 rence Washington, writing to Governor Dunwiddi, 
 who was then in London, explains the matter. He 
 says that in making overtures to the Dutch who 
 had come into the Shenandoah valley, "that their 
 
THE OHIO COUNTRY 153 
 
 objections to taking lands in the Ohio country was 
 that they would be compelled to support a clergy- 
 man of the established church, who few understood 
 and few made use of him. He appealed to Mr. Han- 
 bury to try and obtain from the king some kind of 
 a charter to prevent the residents on the Ohio and 
 its branches being subject to parish taxes. The 
 amendment had not been obtained at the close of 
 the war and the company were still petitioners for 
 an evasion of the parish taxes when they were sud- 
 denly confronted with a new and formidable com- 
 pany, which had been organized, known as the Wal- 
 pole company, with Mr. Thomas Walpole, an emi- 
 nent London banker, at its head. ,The leading spir- 
 its in the new company in the colonies was Sir 
 William Johnson and Governor Franklin of New 
 Jersey. The governor wrote to his father, 
 
 Benjamin Franklin, 
 
 Who was in London as the agent of Pennsylvania. 
 He replied: "I like the prospect of a colony in the 
 Illinois country and will forward it to my utmost 
 here. In the meantime General Lyman was urging 
 the renewal of the grant to the Ohio company, but 
 standing in the way of both projects was the king's 
 proclamation prohibiting settlements in the North- 
 west, which had been proclaimed. The opposition 
 to granting the one or renewing the other was so 
 strong that it was deemed best to join the interest 
 of the two companies, which was done. Then 
 Franklin came forward with the idea of authorizing 
 the Walpole grant creating a new colony west of 
 the mountains to act as a buffer state to the colon- 
 
154 THE OHIO COUNTRY 
 
 ies against the Indians. In order to do this it was 
 necessary to obtain the Indian title to the lands, 
 for this purpose Sir William Johnson, under in- 
 structions of Franklin, had succeeded in having an 
 Indian council called, which was held at Fort Stan- 
 nix, now Rome, New York, in September, 1768, at 
 which under the plea of rectifying the boundaries 
 of the Indian lands a cession was obtained. It was 
 not, however, until the year 1770 that the Walpole 
 grant was obtained from the king and was then 
 hedged about with parish taxes, quit rents and other 
 irritating conditions that the company was a failure 
 from the start. The revolt of the colonies soon 
 after occurring, the dream of greatness and wealth 
 which had stirred the ambition of so many of the 
 wise and ambitious men of the colonies, perished 
 forever.