■JPlCLE HeRBE^5?' ■PE/IKEK^ WIWIIIIililMMMiriilWIIIMIIflWirwiWUCWnmiMHWWWMiWII miticmcJcicfcrcrcretcitmcicwwTww^ Autograph JJlbum Verses. mm mmmt tmmtm mmm WiiMMMiiiM^ s " ' / ■/• .0 o. './^•^^<^ t ' ''■■^,. ^' .^ -^■i'. ■^*o ^'' "^ 9' ^<^^, ->^' .^^ "^. ^^ ^^^ A^" V ^0 o . ^ VC HNGLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER Autograph- Album Verses, A CHOICE COLI,ECTION CAREFULLY SELECTED AND ARRANGED UNCLE HERBERT -.1 SOLD BY SUBSCRIPTION ONLY. . J,^ 25 I f J. A. RUTH & CO., Philadelphia and Chicago. 1886. 1/ o\ ^''^^ Copyright, 1886, By J. A. Ruth & Co. Manufactured by J. A. Ruth & Co's Publishing House. PREFACE. ^'TPHE selections for this volume have been made with d^j very great care. Nothing that could in the shghtest degree prove objectionable has been admitted. All the pieces are pure in language, lofty in sentiment, pithy, bright, sparkling. None dull or prosy. Beginning with the short simple pieces for the "httle prattlers," the book gradually runs into those for older children ; thus about one-third of the Speaker is given to pieces suitable for children under eight years of age, one-third for children from eight to twelve years old, and the remainder for older ones. The little ones will memorize the short pieces by hearing them read, and thus early acquire the love for reciting and the confidence and knowledge of ability to perform, so essential to their development and success in life. The large number and great variety afford suitable selections for children of all ages and for all occasions; and though especially designed for school and parlor recitations, will also prove a treasure around the fireside, affording instruction, amusement and recreation for young and old. III. IV. PREFACE. Who has not been at a loss for an appropriate subj ect when asked to contribute a line, verse or page to an Autograph- Album? Who is always ready to ''take the facile pen and write as if with fairy's magic wand"? The verses of this collection are so numerous and varied that a suitable one may be readily found for any requirement. Here are Friendship, Affection, Wit, Miscellany; every verse, as given, is appropriate to precede a signature, or can, by a little ingenuity, be changed to an original form — "In thought the same, the language only changed. " The utility and necessity for a suitable collection of Recitations and Autograph-Album verses are too obvious to require argument or apology, and the Publishers feel the assurance that this little volume will meet with universal favor. The modesty of the Author prompts him to with- hold his name, and he will be known to the world only as "Uncle Herbert." That he has performed his work con- scientiously and well, and that he has added a valuable contribution to the standard literature of the time we submit to an indulgent, appreciative, albeit critical Public. THE PUBLISHERS. CONTENTS. PAGE. A FiEST Impeession, ----- 26 A Child's Thought, - - - - - 42 A Little Boy's Lectuee, - - - . 83 A Boy's Teoubles, - - - - - - 50 A Boy's Deeam, ------ 56 A Mite Song, ----- - 55 A Little Giel's Speech, - - - - 44 A Bit of Potteey, ------ .148 A Housekeepee's Tragedy, - - - - 277 A Yisit FEOii St. Nicholas, - - - - 114 A Geoegia Yolunteee, . - - . 299 A Lawyee's Poem to Seeing, - - - - 120 A Life on the Ocean Wa^e, - - - - 124 A Little Boy's Speech, - - - - - 35 A Butteefly on Baby's Geave, - - - 79 Addeess to a Teachee, - - - - - 109 Afton Watee, - - - - - - 118 All Things Loye Me, - - -. - - 27 An Oeation foe a Boy, - - - _ 47 An Opening Addeess, - - - - - 19 Aunt Silya Meets Young Mas'e John, - - 212 Aunt Tabitha, - - - - - -110 Baby is a Sailoe, ----- 82 BiEDiE AND Baby, - - - - - - 30 Beight Little Dandelion, - - - - 15 Beauty Eveeywheee, - - - - - 68 Baby, ------- 64 Baby, -- - - - - - -14 CONTENTS. VI. Paqe. Bessie Bo-Peep, - - - - - - 153 Be Pleasant, .---.. 34 Baby Sister, ------- 49 BuEiAL OF Sir John Mooke, - - - - 135 Bill and I, - - - - - - - 275 Bachelor's Hall, ~ - - - - 210 Bustin' the Temperance Man, - - - - 316 Burial of The Dane, ----- 257 Charlie's Speech, - - - - - - 51 Chubby Fist, ------ 95 Christmus Comin', - - - - - - 191 Civil War, - - - - - - 301 Charge of the Light Brigade, - - - - 150 Catiline's Defiance, ----- 259 Dickie Bird! Dickie Bird! - - - - 93 Deeds of Kindness, ----- 98 Doing Nothing, - - - - - - 52 Did Not Pass, ------ 163 Dot Baby off Mine, - - - - - 292 Der Baby, --...- 285 Dot Maid wid Hazel Hair, - - - - 192 Dying Confession of Paddy McCabe, - - 288 Destruction of Sennacherib, - - - - 200 English History in Bhyme, - - - - 147 For a Small Boy, - - - - - - 42 For a Small Boy, - - - - - 33 For a Very Small Girl, - - - - - 26 For a Small Girl, ----- 26 For a Very Little Boy, - - - - - 19 Frowns and Sneers, ----- 24 Faults of Others, - - - - - - 30 For a Little Girl, ----- 46 Funny, Isn't It? - - - - - - 65 Fanny's Mud Pies, ----- 133 Farewell, Old Shoe, - - - - -1^2 For Vacation, ------ 109 Flea Powder, - - - - - - 207 Farm-yard Song, - - - . - 166 CONTENTS. VII. Page. Good Night, - - - - - - - 89 Good Night and Good Mokning, - - - 172 God Sees, -------83 Good Night, Little Star, . . . _ 22 Give the Little Boys a Chance, - - - 62 Gettysbueg Cemeteey, - - _ . 238 Holiday Speech, - - - - - - 47 How THE Babies Grow, - . _ . 59 Happy is My Name, - - - - - - 51 HoE Your Own Row, ----- 43 Hurrah! - - - - - - - 49 Hundreds! ------ 82 hohenlinden, - - - - - - 143 HOSANNA, ------- 152 Half-past Eight and Half-past Four, - - 16 Housekeeper's Soliloquy, - - - _ 161 It's Not Worth While to Hate, - . , . - 113 "I Can't and I Can," ----- 79 " I Can't and I Can," - . - - . - 91 "Isn't God Upon the Ocean?" - - - 84 I'm Very Young, - - - - - - 62 It Snows,- __..-- 159 It's Good to Have a Mother, - - - - 93 Jack and the Rabbit, ----- 95 Katydid, -.._... 134 Little Brown Bushy-Tail, - - - - 103 Little Things. - - - - - - 86 Little Blue Bell, ----- 34 Little, but " Spunky," - - - - - 20 Little Whimpy, ------ 45 Little Foxes, - - - - - - 63 Little Toddlekins, ----- 39 Leedle Yawcob Strauss, - - - - - 199 Little Midget, - - - - - - 58 Little Brown Hands, - - - - - 157 Liberty or Death, ----- 242 Lake of the Dismal Swamp, - - - - 188 Make Your Mark, - - - - - 48 Viu. CONTENTS. Page. Mamma's Boy, - - - - - - - 73 MoTHEE Goose's Tea Party, - - - - 101 Miss Fket and Miss Laugh, - - - - 91 MOENING, ------- 52 My Week, ------- 60 My Little Husband, ----- 44 Miss Tidy, - - - - - - - 46 Mamma's Kisses, _.---■ 23 Mr. Tongue, ------- 33 My Kittens, -.-._- 28 My Sweetheart, - - - - - - 125 My Mother's Hymn, ----- 168 Mill Eiver Kide, - - - - - - 279 Me. Socrates Snooks, - - - - - 216 Marco Bozzaeis, - - - - - - 233 Nevee Put Off, - ^ - - - 94 Nine Paets of Speech, - - - - - 87 Nevee Give Up, - - - - - 217 No Good Eeason, - - - - - - 41 Nobody's Dog, ------ 41 No Baby in the House, - - - - - 26 One of His Names, ----- 90 Only a Baby Small, - - - - - 21 Old Speckled Hen, - - - - - 71 On Time, ------- 38 OuE Jim, ------- 85 Only Five, - - - - - - - 56 OvEE THE Eiver, ----- 135 Our Country, - - - - - - 176 Our Charley, ------ 106 Old- School Punishment, - - - - - 164 One Night with Gin, ----- 266 Playing Barber, - - - - - - 74 Popping Corn, ------ 128 Presentation Speech, - - - - - 178 Presentation Speech, ----- 177 Prescription for Spring Fever, - - - 39 Queer Little Stitches, - - - - 96 CONTENTS. IX. Page. Eemember, ------ 73 KuNNiNG Away, - - - - - - 121 Kain on the Koof, ----- 173 Rock Me to Sleep, - - - - - - 222 RiENZi's Addkess, - - - - - 261 EOET O'MOEE, - - - - - - 203 Some of the Children, - - - - 100 Smiles and Teaks, - - - - - - 90 Suppose, ------- 78 Sunbeams, -------86 Speech foe a Small Boy, - - - . 25 Spring has Come, - - - - - - 37 Silly Little Mary, ----- 16 Speech for a Boy, - - - - - - 31 Six Little Mice, - - . - . 13 Speak the Truth, - - - - - - 58 Stop, Stop, Pretty Water, . - . - 64 Sour Grapes, - - - - - - 46 Song of the Corn Popper, - - - - 149 Song of the Camp, ------ 290 Somebody's Darling, ----- 115 Smiting the Eock, ------ 254 Sally in Our Alley, ----- 179 Speech for a Little Girl, - - - - 35 Sheridan's Eide, - - - - - 302 Sample Eooms, ------ 271 Shylock to Antonio, - - - - - 310 Soliloquy of King Eichard III., -• - - 298 South Carolina and Massachusetts, - - 235 The Morning Call, - - - - - - 32 The Three Little Kittens, - - - - 36 The Little Dutchman, - - - - - 36 The Thrush, ------ 14 The Toad, ------- 24 The Bumble Bee, - - - . _ 72 The Little Dreamer, - - - - - 58 The Chickens, - - - - - .57 The Baby Sleeps, - - - - - - 65 X. CONTENTS. Pagb. The Lake, ---... 70 The Early Birds, - - - - - - 54 The Stars, .--..- 62 The Lost Doll, - - - - - - 92 The Little Artist, ----- 94 The Bust Bee and Mule, - - - - - 104: The Little Things, - . - _ _ 99 The Courageous Boy, - - - - - 105 The Pig and the Hen, ----- 80 The First Pair of Breeches, - - - - 105 The Long Sermon, ----- 84 The Robin and the Chicken, - - - - 87 The Little Shepherdess, - - . - 33 The Bee and the Butterfly, - - - - 31 The Violet, - - - - - - 40 The Minutes, - - - - - - 61 The Busy Bee, ------ 61 The Watermillion, - ----- 77 The Queen in Her Carriage, - . . 60 The Dead Moon, - - - - - - 167 The Smack in School, ----- 132 The Eagle, - - - - - - - 131 The Little Girls, - - - - - 161 The Rain, ------- 67 The Wind in a Frolic, - - - - 154 The Cobbler's Secret, - - . - - 127 The Bachelor Sale, ----- 126 The Farmer Sat in His Easy Chair, - - - 122 The Boy and the Boot, .... 130 The Ship of State, - - - - - 145 The Dumb Wife, - - _ - 119 The Groves, - - - - - - - 123 The Oyster Man, - - - - _ 138 The Remorseful Cakes, - - - - - 140 The Quail's Song, ----- 114 The Miser, - - - - - - - 136 The Love of Country, - - - _ 146 The Little Boys, - - - - - - 162 CONTENTS. XI. Page. The Modekn Belle, - - - - - 111 The Feost, - - - - - - - 155 The Two Squieeels, ----- 107 The Conqueeed Banner, - - - - - 224 The Lovees, - - - - - - 197 The Foueth of July, - - - - - 187 The Blue and the Geax, - - - - 229 The Old Oaken Bucket, - - - - - 228 The Picket Guaed, ----- 226 The Polish Boy, ------ 249 The Two Eoads, ----- 246 The Old Sexton, - - - - - - 190 The Mountains of Life, - - - - 218 The O'Lincoln Family, ----- 221 The Philosophee's Scales, - - - - 204 The Counteesign, ------ 193 The Maeinee's Dee am, ----- 183 The Ivy Geeen, - - - - - - 219 The Seminole's Eeply, . _ - ^ 307 The Black Regiment, ----- 263 The Gladiatoe, ------ 311 The Main Teuck, - - - - - ♦ - 309 The Cumbeeland, . . - - - 273 The Geeat Atteaction, - - - - - 314 The Buening Peaiete, ----- 304 The Maniac, - - - - - - - 294 The Chinese Excelsioe, - - . - - 289 The New Chuech-Oegan, ----- 280 The Faithful Loyees, ----- 284 The Beave at Home, - - - - - 272 The Misee's Will, - - - - - 269 Tom, -------- 296 Twenty Feogs at School, - - ' - - 75 Theowing Kisses, - - - - - - 22 Twinkle, Twinkle, ----- 77 Tale of a Dog and a Bee, - - - - 66 "They Say," ------ 44 Ten Teue Feiends, - - - - - - 92 XII. CONTENTS. Tommy's Plan, . - - Tkip Lightly, . . - To Bed, - _ . . Two Little Magpies on a Wall, That Gkumbling Old Woman, Tkuth, in Parenthesis, Total Annihilation, Upside Down, - - . Useful Little Woeds, Uncle Ned's Defense, - Valedictoey, - - . . Valley Foege, - - - Wouldn't Eat Ceusts, What is Man? - - - What the Snowdeop Says, We Little Boys, When Mamma was a Little Giel, What the Daisy Said, - Wheee is Mamma? - Woeds of Welcomjs, Welcome, . _ . . What Willie Said, "When I am Big," - - - WoEK while You Work, Washing Dishes, . - - Whip-Pooe-Will, We All Like Sheep, - - Wateeloo, - - _ Woeds and theie Uses, Waeeen's Addeess, What a Little Leaf Said, " YouES Truly, Sir," - Page. 106 25 - 18 53 - 165 131 - 117 70 - 59 213 - 108 239 - 75 90 - 86 104 - 88 76 - 20 18 - 22 37 - 69 68 - 69 144 - 137 231 - 209 175 - 171 56 Uncle Herbert's Spesker. SIX LITTLE MICE. IX merry little mice, — ^As lively as you please, Went out to take a walk one day, And came across a cheese. Said Mousie Number One To Mousie Number Two, "Let's go and take a nibble," Said Number Three, '*0h, do!'' Said Number Four, "I never saw A cheese so very nice; 1 think I'll take some morsels home To my three little mice!" Said Number Five, 'T'll think a while, Nor nibble here in haste, Although I'm sure, this nice, large cheese, Must have delicious taste!" But while the five were talking, Believe it, if you please. Industrious little Number Six, Had carried off the cheese! 13 14 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. THE THRUSH. O ONGSTER of the russet coat, ^-^FuU and liquid is thy note; Plain thy dress, but great thy skill, Captivating at thy will. Small musician of the field, Near my bower thy tribute yield, Little servant of the ear. Ply thy task, and never fear. I will learn from thee to praise God, the Author of my days; I will learn from thee to sing, Christ, my Saviour and my King; Learn to labor with my voice. Make the sinking heart rejoice. ' BABY. LXJHERE did you come from baby dear? Out of the everywhere into here. Where did you get those eyes so blue? Out of the sky as I came through. What makes the light in them sparkle and spin? Some of the starry spikes left in. Where did you get that little tear? I found it waiting when I got here. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 15 What makes your forehead so smooth and high? A soft hand stroked it as I went by. What makes your cheek Hke a warm white rose? I saw something better than any one knows. Whence that three-cornered smile of bHss? Three angels gave me at once a kiss. Where did you get this pearly ear? God spoke and it came out to hear. Where did you get those arms and hands? Love made itself into bonds and bands. Feet, whence did you come, you darling things? From the same box as the cherubs' wings. How did they all just come to be you? God thought about me, and so I grew. But how did you come to us, you dear? God thought about you, and so I am here. George Macdonald. \ ♦ — ♦ BRIGHT LITTLE DANDELION. 1Q RIGHT little dandeHon^ J^ Downy yellow-face, Peeping up among the grass With such gentle grace. Minding not the April wind Blowing rude and cold, Brave little dandelion. With a heart of gold! q 16 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. HALF-PAST EIGHT AND HALF-PAST FOUE. ALF-PAST eight, half-past eight! School-bell's ringing — don't be late! Get your books, and pens, and papers; Don't be cutting truant capers. Half-past eight, half-past eight! School-bell's ringing — don't be late! Half-past eight, half-past eight! Who is he for whom we wait? Lazy Jack! — why this folly! Why d'ye look so melancholy? Don't hang back — march out straight, School-bell's ringing — school won't wait! Half-past four, half-past four! Bell is ringing — school is o'er! Master Jack is blithe and ready: Needn't hurry. Jack — march steady. See the rogue, he runs about; He's the very first boy out. Half-past four, half-past four! Bell is ringing — school is o'er. SILLY LITTLE MARY. O ILLY little Mary, ^-^ Sulking all the day, While the other children Run about and play. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 17 Silly little Mary Wears a peevish look, When she sees the others Laughing at the brook. Silly little Mary Will not skip or swing, Won't at puss-in-corner play, Won't do anything. Silly little Mary Hides behind the bank, In among the roots and weeds. All so thick and rank. FOR A SMALL GIEL. |HE other girls and boys in .school All said I was too young To stand up here, like them, and use My hands, and feet, and tongue. But 7tow I guess they'll own that I Am quite as smart as they, For all my speech is not as long As some the rest may say. 18 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. WOEDS OF WELCOME. LTIND friends and dear parents, we welcome you ^J here To our nice pleasant school-room, and teacher so dear; We wish but to show how much we have learned, And how to our lessons our hearts have been turned. But hope you'll remember we all are quite young, And when we have spoken, recited and sung, You will pardon our blunders, which, as all are aware, May even extend to the President's chair. Our life is a school time, and till that shall end. With our Father in heaven for teacher and friend, O let us perform well each task that is given, Till our time of probation is ended in heaven. TO BED. T KNOW a httle boy. And have often heard it said That he never was so tired That he wished to go to bed. Though he scarcely can hold up His drowsy little head. Yet this very foolish boy Cannot bear to go to bed. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. X9 When the big golden sun Has lain down to sleep; ' When the lambs every one Are lying by the sheep; When underneath its wing Every chick tucks its head, — Still this odd little boy Does not like to go to bed. FOR A VERY LITTLE BOY. IT'S very hard, kind friends, for me To stand up here, with trembling knee, And see so many people's eyes Cast on a boy of my small size; But then I thought I'd take my place, And, soldier-like, the music face. I've tried my hardest to please you. You may believe me this is true; Your kind attention (ere we part) I thank you for with all my heart! AN OPENING ADDRESS. I am a very little boy (or girl), and I suppose that is why the teacher puts me first to-day. But I am big enough to tell you that we are very glad to see you. I hope you will like our school very much. We will sing our best songs, and say our prettiest verses, and be just as good as we can all the time you stay, for we want you to come again. 20 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. WHERE IS MAMMA? T CANNOT find my mamma! Where do you think she can be? She said she was going down to the store, To buy a pound of tea. And I'm sure she's been gone a hundred years, I'm as lonesome as I can be! Please tell her if you see her. To hurry home to me. I'm tired of my doll and the kitty. And the baby just cries and cries; I've tried and tried to rock him to sleep, But he won't even shut his eyes. So, please, if you see my mamma. Tell her to hurry home to me, For I'm sure I want her very much more Than she wants a pound of tea. LITTLE, BUT ''SPUNKY." T AM Httle, but I'm ''spunky," As you now may plainly tell; All the session I have studied Every lesson very well. Now I'm glad that school is over. And with books and work I'm done, For I want to take vacation, And have "lots'' of play and fun. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 21 ONLY A BABY SMALL. [QjNLY a baby small, ^ Dropped from the skies; Only a laughing face, Two sunny eyes; Only two cherry lips, One chubby nose; Only two little hands Ten little toes. Only a golden head, Curly and soft; Only a tongue that wags Loudly and oft; Only a little brain, Empty of thought; Only a little heart, Troubled with nought. Only a tender flower Sent us to rear; Only a life to love While we are here; Only a baby small, Never at rest; Small, but how dear to us, God knoweth best. 22 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. GOOD-NIGHT LITTLE STAR. QOOD-NIGHT, little star! ^^ I will go to my bed And leave you to burn While I lay down my head. On my pillow I'll sleep Till the morning light, Then you will be fading And I shall be bright. WELCOME. TT'IND friends, we welcome you to-day, J With songs of merry glee, Your loving smiles we strive to win. Each face we love to see. Sweet welcomes then to one and all, And may your smiles approve; And may we never miss the light Of faces that we love. THROWING KISSES. 'OON'T think, dear friends, that I'm too small ^^ To fill a place like this; I'm big enough to love you all, And throw you all a kiss. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 23 A little word, a look, a smile, Will never come amiss; Takes but a moment, as you see, To throw you all a kiss. It may be that you have at home Some boy, or little sis. Who laughs, and peeps, and when you go Throws after you a kiss. MAMMA'S KISSES. 7] KISS when I wake in the morning, (g) A kiss Avhen I go to bed, A kiss when I burn my fingers, A kiss when I bump my head. A kiss when my bath is over, A kiss when my bath begins; My mamma is full of kisses, As full as a nurse is of pins. A kiss when I give her trouble, A kiss when I give her joy; There's nothing like mamma's kisses To her own little baby boy! r 24 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. THE TOAD. 'VE heard a song about the frogs, And bees with pretty wings, And what a very pleasant note The Httle robin sings. But oh! no poet ever yet Has greatly praised the toad, Oft seated on his haunches, A-winking in the road! He's neither tall nor stately, And he looks very old; . His skin all wrinkled, tough and brown — It keeps out wet and cold. He's very strange, ugly and coarse, And surely very odd; He sets all the children laughing When he leaps o'er the sod. But the old toad is quite friendly, And he seems very wise Coming out from the old door-stone To catch the little flies. L7icj S. Riiggles. FKOWNS AND SNEERS. 1Z700LISH things are frowns and sneers. For angry thoughts reveal them. Rather drown them all in tears, Than let another feel them. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 25 SPEECH FOR A SMALL BOY. "Oobody knows how hard I've tried J To learn a speech to say, And be up with the other boys, Who all show off to-day. But now I'm here, I am afraid I never will get through; For I am badly scared, you see, And scarce know what to do. I haven't much to say, because I am so very small, But anything is better than To make no speech at all. TRIP LIGHTLY. n^RIP lightly over trouble. J^ Trip lightly over wrong; We only make it double, By dwelling on it long. Trip lightly over sorrow, * Though this day may be dark, The sun may shine to-morrow, And gayly sing the lark. Fair hope has not departed. Though roses may have fled; Then never be down-hearted. But look for joy instead. 26 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. A FIRST IMPRESSION. 1 RECOLLECT a nurse called Ann Who carried me about the grass, And one fine day a fine young man Came up and kissed the pretty lass. She did not make the least objection. Thinks I, "Ah, When I can talk I'll tell mamma" — And thafs my earliest recollection. FOR A VERY SMALL GIRL. I AM a merry little girl. And if I had my way, I'd never go to school at all, But with my dollies play. I wish some one would come along And steal the school-house key. Then all the boys and girls could play- How happy we would be! I hope the audience will excuse The shortness of my speech; And now I'm done, I'll say good-bye, And kiss my hand to each. 5 NO BABY IN THE HOUSE. O baby in the house I know, 'Tis far too nice and clean. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 27 No toys, by careless fingers strewn, Upon the floors are seen. No finger-marks are on the panes, No scratches on the chairs; No wooden men set up in rows. Or marshalled ofT in pairs; No little stockings to be darned, All ragged at the toes; No pile of mending to be done, Made up of baby-clothes; No little troubles to be soothed; No little hands to fold; No grimy fingers to be washed; No stories to be told; No tender kisses to be given; No nicknames "Dove," or "Mouse;" No merry frolics after tea — No baby in the house. Clara G. Dolliver. ALL THINGS LOVE ME. /Qj LITTLE flowers! you love me so, ^^ You could not do without me; O little birds that come and go! You sing sweet songs about me; C little moss, observed by few, That round the tree is creeping! You like my head to rest on you. When I am idly sleeping. 28 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. MY KITTENS. Tyr Y dear little kittens! — my five little darlings! — (s) I loved you — the gray ones, the spotted, the white; I brought you your breakfast of warm milk each morning, And saw you all lap it with keenest delight. You played, too, so rrierry and cunning together; Your mother would watch while she laid in the straw A-winking her eyes in the warm sunny weather, And giving you sometimes a tap with her paw. You would pull at her tail, at her ears you would nibble; You had no respect for her gray hairs at all; I am sure, though, she liked it, but sometimes she scolded. And said, in cat-language, "Be off with you, all!" But one day poor Whitey, the prettiest darling Of all these five kittens, grew sick and then died ; I never again could have such a sweet kitten, And oh how I grieved, and how sadly I cried! I went out and dug her a grave in the garden, And lined it all softly with leaves and with moss: UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 29 I brought to the burial her brothers and sisters, Thinking that they, too, would mourn for her loss. But the heartless things capered and whisked all around me — They chased a bright butterfly, searched for a mouse, Jumped for the bird that sang up in the pear tree; I whipped them and sent them all back to the house. Then I filled up the grave and I rounded it over. And made it a border of white pearly stone. And on it I planted a nice root of catnip, Then I left little Whitey to sleep all alone. One day, Tom, the bad boy who lives round the corner, Stole Spotty and Grayback — I called help too late! He never would tell where he carried the darlings. And I sigh when I think of their probable fate. Then I had but two left me, and these a good neighbor Adopted and brought up with kindness and care; Their mother and I were both sorry to lose them, But we knew it was best for them both to be there. W! 30 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. BIRDIE AND BABY. HAT does little birdie say, In her nest at peep of day? "Let me fly," says little birdie, "Mother, let me fly away." "Birdie, rest a little longer, Till the little wings are stronger," So she rests a little longer, Then she flies away. What does little baby say, In her bed at peep of day? Baby says, like little birdie, "Let me rise and fly away," "Baby, sleep a little longer, Till the little limbs are stronger. If she sleeps a little longer, Baby, too, shall fly away." FAULTS OF OTHERS. T T THAT are others' faults to me? I've not a vulture's bill. To peck at every flaw I see, And make it wider still. It is enough for me to know I've follies of my own; And on my heart the care bestow, And let my friends alone. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 31 SPEECH FOE A BOY. OOBODY knows the nerve it takes y To rise up in a crowd, And speak out so that all can hear, With voice both clearand loud, For often men of sense have failed, V\lh.Qn first they'd try to speak, And ere they could pronounce a word; Begin to feel quite weak. So you, therefore, must not expect Great things from one so small; I'd rather make a little speech Than to say none at all. No man can ever get to be Renown'd, or great, or wise. Unless, when he is small and young, He bravely strives to rise. I've done my very best, kind friends. This to my credit score; For you will readily agree, "Angels can do no more!'' THE BEE AND THE BUTTEEFLY. UT^EAR me, dear me," ^ Said a busy bee; "I'm always making honey. No time to play 32 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. But work all day; Isn't it very funny, Very, very funny?" "Oh, my, oh, my," Said a butterfly, "I'm always eating honey. And yet I play The livelong day, Isn't it very funny, Very, very funny?" THE MOENING CALL. A young lady comes on stage, zvalks to fro7tt, stops. Just then a knock is heard, and in walks a tiny miss, ( Young Lady.) ^LJLJONDER who is knocking; ^^ Why, Mamie, is it you? Walk, in, take off your bonnet, How does my darling do? (^Kissing her.) {Little Miss. ) "I'se pitty well, I thank 'ou, But twasn't nice at all. For 'ou to kiss me, auntie. Because I's come to call. "My name is Mrs. Gookins — My husband he is dead — UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 33 Tse got twelve little chil'ren, They're all at home in bed. 'And now I must be going, I'se so much work, you see, Next time I'll bring my babies, And then we'll stay to tea. " ME. TONGUE. TX)^ fnend Mr. Tongue y He lives in my mouth, He's as red as a rose. And as warm as the south; He has not a foot, Yet how quickly he goes, My little friend Tongue, As red as a rose. FOR A SMALL BOY. n^HERE are some things that puzzle me, I Boy as I am; these things I see — For instance: Men who dress quite fine, They smoke cigars and drink rich wine; And others swill down lager beer. Till on the street they scarce can steer; And yet, when they go home, they swear, They haven't got a cent to spare; Their children need both bread and meat, 34 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. And shoes to cover naked feet; Their wives don't have a copper cent, Because they sew to pay the rent. Now these are things I daily see, And, as I said, they puzzle me. LITTLE BLUE BELL. /^FP where the meadow grass ^^ Leans toward the river, Stood little blue bell. All in a shiver. Oh, little blue bell, Do, then, look up; Some kind cloud will give you A drop in your cup. At dawn little blue bell Held gracefully up Her silent thanksgiving — The dew in her cup! BE PLEASANT. IJLJHEN little ones worry, Their parents are sorry, And all who are near them look sad: But when they are good, And smile as they should, Their friends are contented and glad. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 35 How much better it is To be cheerful and sing, Than to deserve to be called A cross old thing. ♦ ■ SPEECH FOR A LITTLE GIRL. I NEVER made a speech before; But that's no reason why, Because I never spoke before, I ought not now to try. There are some silly little girls, Who are afraid to speak, For fear some one will laugh at them; I think this very weak. I hope I'll always have the sense To do as I am to]d; Then people will not laugh at me, Or think I am too bold. A LITTLE BOY'S SPEECH. I AM a little boy, you see, Not higher much than pappy's knee; Some of the big boys said that I, To make a speech ought not to try. This raised my spunk, and I am here, Small as to you I may appear. And though my voice, I know is weak, I'll show these boys that I can speak. 36 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. THE THEEE LITTLE KITTENS. n^HREE little kittens met one day, J^ Right on top of a load of hay. They were black and white and brindle gray, And full of frolic, the livelong day. They arched their backs, and hissed and spit, And swelled their sides, till you'd think they'd split. So there they stood with glaring eyes, And tails like a dusting brush in size. Then three small voices cried: Mew! Mew! I don't know you, but how do you do! Well, they all rubbed noses, and made up friends, And so right here my story ends. THE LITTLE DUTCHMAN. (QjH, I'm a little Tuchman, ^^ My name is Van der Dose, An' vat I cannot get to eat, I smells it mit my nose. An' ven dey vill not let me blay, I takes it out in vork; An' ven dey makes me vork too hard, I soon de job will shirk. An* ven dey sends me off to ped, I lays avake all night; TIN CLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 37 An* ven.dey comes to vake me up, I shuts my eyes up tight. For I'm a Httle Tuchman, My name is Van der Dose, An' vat I do not know myself, I never vants to knows. WHAT WILLIE SAID. PEAR what a little child would say, Who comes to school each pleasant day. And tries to learn his lessons well, A good report at home to tell. I love the school, and teacher dear, And all the scholars gathered here; To each I say in simple rhyme, Be careful and not waste your time. For moments spent in life's young day. In useless or in thoughtless play, Will cast a shade o'er future years, And cause you many sighs and tears. SPRING HAS COME. OPRING has come back to us, beautiful spring! ^^ Blue-birds and swallows are out on the wing; Over the meadows a carpet of green Softer and richer than velvet are seen. 38 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. Up come the blossoms so bright and so gay, Giving sweet odors to welcome the May. Sunshine and music are flooding the air, Beauty and brightness are everywhere. THE LITTLE SHEPHERDESS. /yr ARY had a little lamb, (g) Its fleece was white as snow, "Oh, we know that so well," you say, "Say something we don't know!" But you don't know this Mary, And though this lamb can play He never followed her to school, Never a single day! This Mary plays at shepherdess. And with her pretty crook. She guides her sheep in pleasant paths, Down by the shaded brook. ON TIME. I'M the boy who's "on time" through by day- light. When the sun wakes up in the morn- ing, he says, "Who's that 'round so early?" I guess he'd have to be spry to get his face washed before I do. As soon as the old roosters hear me up they all begin to crow. Who's afraid of a little snow or mud? They don't scare ME any; when the bell rings for school I'm THERE. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 39 LITTLE TODDLEKINS. fOOR little Toddlekins, ^ All full o' sketer-bites, Bodder him awful, Baby can't sleep o'nights. Buzzing all over him, Singing and tickling, In and out, round about, Nipping and prickling. Poor little Toddlekins, All full o' sketer-bites, Bodder him awful, Can't even sleep o' nights. PBESGRIPTION FOR SPRING FEVER. n^AKE the open air, J^ The more you take the better Follow Nature's laws. To the very letter. Let the doctors go To the Bay of Biscay, Let alone the gin, The brandy and the whisky. Freely exercise; Keep your spirits cheerful; 40 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Let no dread of sickness Make you ever fearful. Eat the simplest food, Drink the pure cold water, Then you will be well, Or at least you ought to. THE VIOLET. 'OOWN in a green and shady bed ^^ A modest violet grew; Its stalk was bent, it hung its head As if to hide from view. And yet it was a lovely flower, Its colors bright and fair; It might have graced a rosy bowser Instead of hiding there. Yet there it was content to bloom, In modest tints arrayed; And there diffused its sweet perfume Within the silent glade. Then let me to the valley go, This pretty flower to see, That I may also learn to grow In sweet humility. Jane Taylor. , UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 41 NO GOOD EEASON. I NEVER could find a good reason Why sorrow, unbidden, should stay, And all the bright joys of life's season Be driven unheeded away. Our cares would make no more emotion Were we to our lot but resigned, Than pebbles flung into the ocean, That leave scarce a ripple behind. NOBODY'S DOG. /TliNLY a dirty black and white dog! ^ You can see him any day. Trotting meekly from street to street. He almost seems to say. As he looks in your face with wistful eye, "I don't mean to be in your way." His tail hangs drooping between his -legs; His body is thin and spare; How he envies the sleek and well-fed dogs That thrive on their master's care! And he wonders what they must think of him And grieves at his own hard fare. Sometimes he sees a friendly face — A face that he seems to know; 42 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. And thinks he may be the master That he lost so long ago; And even dares to follow him home, For he loved his master so. Poor Jack! He's only mistaken again, And stoned and driven back; But he's used to disappointment now, And takes up his beaten track; Nobody's dog, for nobody cares For poor, unfortunate Jack. FOE A SMALL BOY. I AM quite small to go to school, But you can see I am no fool! I've studied hard this speech to say, And now I'll bow and go away. (Bows. ) A CHILD'S THOUGHT.
i »» 170 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Into the yard the farmer goes, With grateful heart, at the close of day; Harness and chain are hung away; In the wagon -shed stand yoke and plow; The straw's in the stack, the hay in the mow, The cooling dews are falling, — The friendly sheep his welcome bleat, The pigs come grunting to his feet, The whinnying mare her master knows, When into the yard the farmer goes. His cattle calling, — "Co,' boss! co', boss! co'! co'I coM" While still the cow-boy, far away. Goes seeking those that have gone astray, — "Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'!" Now to her task the milkmaid goes. The cattle come crowding through the gate, Lowing, pushing, little and great; About the trough, by the farm-yard pump. The frolicsome yearlings frisk and jump. While the pleasant dews are falling; The new-milch heifer is quick and shy. But the old cow waits with tranquil eye; And the white stream into the bright pail flows, When to her task the milkmaid goes. Soothingly calling, — "So, boss! so, boss! so! so! so!" The cheerful milkmaid takes her stool, UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 171 And sits and milks in the twilight cool, Saying, "So! so, boss! so! so!" To supper at last the farmer goes, The apples are pared, the paper read. The stories are told, then all to bed. Without, the cricket's ceaseless song Makes shrill the silence all night long; The heavy dews are falling. The housewife's hand has turned the lock; Drowsily ticks the kitchen clock; The household sinks to deep repose; But still in sleep the farm-boy goes, Singing, calling,— "Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co' ! co'!" And oft the milkmaid in her dreams Drums in the pail with the flashing streams, Murmuring, "So, boss! so! " J. T. Trowbridge. WHAT A LITTLE LEAF SAID. ^NCE on a time a little leaf was heard to sigh and ^^ cry, as leaves often do when a gentle wind is about. And the twig said: "What is the matter, little leaf?" "The wind," said the leaf, "just told me that one day it would pull me off, and throw me down on the ground to die." 172 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. The twig told it to the branch on which it grew, and the branch told it to the tree. When the tree heard it it rustled all over, and sent back word to the leaf: "Do not be afraid; hold on tightly and you shall not go till you want to. " So the leaf stopped sighing, and went on rustling and singing. When the bright leaves of autumn came the lit- tle leaf saw the leaves around becoming vjry beau- tiful. Then it asked the tree what this meant, and the tree said: "All these leaves are getting ready, to fly away, and they have put on those beautiful colors because of joy. " Then the little leaf began to want to go, and grew very beautiful in thinking of it. And when it was very gay in colors it saw that the branches of the tree had no color in them, so it said: "O, branch, why are you lead colored and we golden?" "We must keep on our work clothes," said the tree, "for our life is not done yet, but your clothes are for a holiday, for your task is over." GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-MORNING. 3 FAIR little girl sat under a tree, (g) Sewing as long as her eyes could see; Then smoothing her work and folding it right. She said, "Dear work! Good-Night! Good-Night!" Such a number of rooks came over her head, Crying "Caw! Caw!" on their way to bed; UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 173 She said, as she watched their curious flight, "Little black things! Good-Night! Good-Night!" The horses neighed and the oxen lowed, The sheep's "Bleat! Bleat!" came over the road; All seeming to say with a quiet delight, "Good little girl! Good-Night! Good-Night!" She did not say to the Sun, "Good-Night!" Though she saw him there like a ball of light; For she knew that he had God's time to keep, All over the world, and never could sleep. The tall pink fox-glove bowed his head — The violets curtsied and went to bed; And good little Lucy tied up her hair, And said, on her knees, her short, sweet prayer. And while on her pillow she softly lay, She knew nothing more till again it was day; And all things said to the beautiful Sun, "Good-Morning! Good-Morning! Our work is begun!" Lord Houghton. « ♦ ■ RAIN ON THE ROOF. T T 7HFN the humid shadows hover Over all the starry spheres, And the melancholy darkness Gently weeps in rainy tears, What a bliss to press the pillow Of the cottage-chamber bed And to listen to the patter Of the soft rain overhead! 174 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Every tinkle on the shingles Has an echo in the heart; And a thousand dreamy fancies liiio busy being start, And a thousand recollections Weave their air-threads into woof, As I listen to the patter Of the rain upon the roof. Now in memory comes my mother As she used long years agone, To regard the darling dreamers Ere she left them till the dawn; Oh, I see her leaning o'er me, As I list to this refrain Which is played upon the shingles By the patter of the rain. Then my little seraph sister, With her wings and waving hair, And her star-eyed cherub brother, A serene angelic pair! — Glide around my wakeful pillow, With their praise or mild reproof, As I listen to the murmur Of the soft rain on the roof. And another comes to thrill me With her eyes' delicious blue; And I mind not, musing on her. That her heart was all untrue: UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Ill I remember but to love her With a passion kin to pain, And my heart's quick pulses vibrate To the patter of the rain. Art hath naught of tone or cadence That can work with such a spell, In the soul's mysterious fountains, Whence the tears of rapture swell As that melody of nature, That subdued, subduing strain Which is played upon the shingles Bv the patter of the rain. CoATES Kinney. WARKEN'S ADDRESS. CZ^TAND! the ground's your own, my braves, ^-^ Will ye give it up to slaves? Will ye look for greener graves? Hope ye mercy still? What's the mercy despots feel? Hear it in that battle-peal! Read it on yon bristling steel! Ask it — ye who will Fear ye foes who kill for hire? Will ye to your homes retire? Look behind you! — they're afire! And, before you, see 176 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Who have done it! From the vale On they come! — and will ye quail? Leaden rain and iron hail Let their welcome be! In the God of battles trust! Die we may — and die we must! But, O where can dust to dust Be consigned so well, As where heaven its dew shall shed On the martyred patriot's bed, And the rocks shall raise their head, Of his deeds to tell? John Pierpont. OUR COUNTRY. XXY COUNTRYMEN! the moments are quickly J passing, and we stand like some traveler upon a lofty crag that separates two boundless seas. The century that is closing is complete. "The past," said your great statesman, "is secure." It is finished and beyond our reach. The hand of detraction cannot dim its glories, nor the tears of repentance wipe away its stains. Its good and evil, its joy and sorrow, its truth and falsehood, its honor and its shame, we cannot touch. Sigh for them, blush for them, weep for them, if we will, we cannot change them now. The old century is dying and they are to be buried with him; his history is finished and they will stand upon its roll forever. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. Ill The century that is opening is all our own. The years that are before us are a virgin page. We can inscribe them as we will. The future of our country rests upon us. The happiness of posterity depends on us. The fate of humanity may be in our hands. That pleading voice, choked with the sob of ages, which has so often spoken to deaf ears, is lifted uo to us. It asks us to be brave, benevolent, consis- tent, true to the teachings of our history, proving "divine descent by worth divine." It asks us to be virtuous, building up public virtue upon private worth; seeking that righteousness which exalteth nations. It asks us to be patriotic, loving our coun- try before all other things; making her happiness our happiness, her honors ours, her fame our own. It asks us in the name of Charity, in the name of Freedom, in the name of God! H. A. Brown. PEESENTATION SPEECH. -pjEAR Teacher: ^ I am commissioned by my schoolmates to ask your acceptance of this little token of their respect and affection. We wished in some way to show our appreciation of your ability as a preceptor, and of your patience and kindness in dealing with the faults to which that variety of the human species called the Boy is proverbially prone, and, after some debate as 178 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. to the method of doing so, concluded that the most befitting exponent of our feelings would be a me- mento to which we could all contribute, and which, however insignificant its value might be when meas- ured by the magnitude of our obligations, would agreeably remind you that we were not ungrateful. With our little gift, receive, dear sir. our warmest wishes for your health and prosperity. We hope to do credit to your tutelage. If we do not, it is our own fault, for you have done your part faithfully and zealously. You have taught us to look up to you not only as a wise instructor, but as a guardian and friend, and when we go into the world to turn the lessons you have taught to profitable account, we shall not forget to whom we owe our acquirements, but shall remember you ever with almost filial regard. » •* PEESENTATION SPEECH. ^EAR Teacher: I have been requested by the young ladies of this school (or institution) to offer you a slight token of our affection and regard. I cannot tell you how delighted I am to be the means of conveying to you the expression of our united love. What we offer you is but a poor symbol of our feelings, but we know you will receive it kindly, as a simple indica- tion of the attachment which each one of us cherishes for you in her heart of hearts. You have made our UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 179 lessons pleasant to us — so pleasant that it would be ungrateful to call them tasks. We know that we have often tried your temper and forbearance, but you have dealt gently with us in our waywardness, teaching us, by example as well as precept, the ad- vantages of magnanimity and self-control. We will never forget you. We shall look back to this school (or institution) in after-life, not as a place of pen- ance, but as a scene of mental enjoyment, v/here the paths of learning were strewn with flowers; and whenever memory recalls our school-days, our hearts will warm toward you as they do to-day. I have been requested by my school-mates not to address you formally, but as a beloved and respected friend. In that light, dear teacher, we all regard you. Please accept, with our little present, our earnest good wishes. May you always be as happy as you have endeavored to make your pupils, and may they — nothing better could be wished for them — be always as faithful to their duties to others as you have been in your duties to them. SALLY IN OUR ALLEY. (Q|F all the girls that are so smart, ^ There's none like Pretty Sally; She is the darling of mj heart, And lives in our alley 180 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. There's ne'er a lady in the land That's half so sweet as Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And lives in our alley. Her father he makes cabbage-nets, And through the streets does cry them; Her mother she sells laces long To such as please to buy them; But sure such folk can have no part In such a girl as Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And lives in our alley. When she is by, I leave my work, I love her so sincerely; My master comes, like any Turk, And bangs me most severely; But let him bang, long as he will, I'll bear it all for Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And lives in our alley. Of all the days are in the week, I dearly love but one day, And that's the day that comes betwixt A Saturday and Monday; For then I'm dressed, all in my best, To walk abroad with Sally; She is the darling of my heart. And Hves in our alley. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 181 When Christmas comes about again, Oh, then I shall have money; I'll hoard it up, and, box and all, I'll give it to my honey; Oh, would it were ten thousand pounds, I'd give it all to Sally; For she's the darling of my heart, And lives in our alley. My master and the neighbors all Make game of me and Sally, And but for her I'd better be A slave, and row a galley; But when my seven long years are out, Oh, then I'll marry Sally, And then how happily we'll live — But not in our alley. Henry Carey. THE HOUSEKEEPEE'S SOLILOQUY- PERE'S a big washing to be done — One pair of hands to do it — Sheets, shirts and stockings, coats and pants, How will I e'er get through it? Dinner to get for six or more, No loaf left o'er from Sunday; And baby cross as he can live — He's always so on Monday. 182 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Tis time the meat was in the pot, The bread was worked for baking, The clothes were taken from the boil — Oh, dear! the baby's waking! Hush, baby dear! there, hush-sh-sh, I wish he'd sleep a little, Till I could run and get some wood, To hurry up the kettle. Oh, dear! oh, dear! if P- comes home, And finds things in this pother, H'U just begin to tell me all About his tidy mother! How nice her kitchen used to be, Her dinner always ready Exactly when the noon-bell rang — Hush, hush, dear little Freddy! And then will come some hasty words. Right out before I'm thinking — They say that hasty words from wives Set sober men to drinking. Now, is not that a great idea, That men should take to sinning, Because a weary, half-sick wife Can't always smile so winning? When I was young I used to earn My living without trouble, Had clothes and pocket money, too, And hours of leisure double. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 183 I never dreamed of such a fate When I, a-lass, was courted — Wife, mother, nurse, seamstress, cook, housekeeper, chambermaid, laundress, dairy-woman, and scrub generally, doing the work of six. For the sake of being supported! Mrs. F. Gage. ( THE MARINEK'S DREAM. TN slumbers of midnight the sailor boy lay; His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away. And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind. He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers. And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn; While memory each scene gaily covered with flowers. And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn. Then Fancy her magical pinions spread wide. And bade the young dreamer in ecstacy rise; Now far, far behind him the green waters glide. And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes. The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch, And the swallow chirps sweet from her nest in the wall; All trembling with transport, he raises the latch, And the voices of loved ones reply to his call. 184 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. A father bends o'er him with looks of dehght; His cheek is bedewed with a mother's warm tear; And the hps of the boy in a love-kiss unite With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast; Joy quickens his pulses — his hardships seem o'er; And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest — "O God! thou hast blest me — I ask for no more. " Ah! whence is that flame which now glares on his eye? Ah! what is that sound which now bursts on his ear? 'Tis the lightning's red gleam, painting hell on the sky! 'Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere! He springs from his hammock — he flies to the deck; Amazement confronts him with images dire; Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck; The masts fly in splinters; the shrouds are on fire. Like mountains the billows tremendously swell; In vain the lost wretch calls on Mercy to save; Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell; And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave! O sailor boy, woe to thy dream of delight! In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 185 Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright, Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss? O sailor boy! sailor boy! never again Shall home, love or kindred thy wishes repay; Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main, Full many a fathom, thy frame shall decay. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, Or redeem form or fame from the merciless surge; But the white foam of waves shall thy winding- sheet be. And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge! On a bed of green sea-flowers thy limbs shall be 1 aid- Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks, threads of amber be made, And every part suit to thy mansion below. Days, months, years and ages shall circle away, And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; Frail, short-sighted mortals their doom mnst obey — O sailor boy! sailor boy! peace to thy soul! William Dimond. OVEB THE EIVER. /Tj|VER the river they beckon to me — (^ Loved ones who've passed to the further side; The gleam of their snowy robes I see. But their voices are lost in the dashing tide. 186 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. There's one with ringlets of sunny gold, And eyes the reflection of heaven's own blue; He crossed in the twilight gray and cold, And the pale mist him from mortal view; We saw not the angels who met him there, The gates of the city we could not see — Over the river, over the river. My brother stands waiting to welcome me! Over the river the boatman pale Carried another, the household pet; Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale- Darling Minnie! I see her yet. She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands, And fearlessly entered the phantom bark; We felt it glide from the silver sands, And all our sunshine grew strangely dark; We know she is safe on the further side, Where all the ransomed and angels be — Over the river, the mystic river. My childhood's idol is waiting for me. For none return from those quiet shores, Who cross with the boatman cold and pale; We hear the dip of the golden oars, And catch a gleam of the snowy sail; And lo! they have passed from our yearning heart, They cross the stream and are gone for aye; We may not sunder the veil apart That hides from our vision the gates of day, UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 187 We only know that their barks no more May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea, Yet, somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore, They watch, and beckon, and vvait for me. And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold Is flushing river and hill and shore, I shall one day stand by the water cold And list for the sound of the boatman's oar; I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail, I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand; I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale, To the better shore of the spirit land. I shall know the loved who have gone before, And joyfully sweet will the meeting be, When over the river, the peaceful river. The Angel of Death shall carry me. Nancy P. Wakefield. THE FOURTH OF JULY. )ATRICK an' Bridget, just shtep still the door; Faith! seed ye ever the loike soight before? Flags all a-flyin' from windy an' roof. Horses decked wid 'em from forelock to hoof; All the small childer a-poppin' ofl" cracks — Troth, but they sound loike shillelahs' bould whacks! Shpake up, swate Biddy, an' answer me, Pat; Seed yez in Kerry the loike of all that? 188 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. "Phat is the row?" to a shpalpeen, sez I, "Dade, thin," sez he, "its the Foorth uv July!" Thin I drawed in from the windy me head, Not wan word wiser for all that he said; Long kem a leddy, so shmoilin' an' gay. Troth, I spyakes oop till hersilf wid me say: "Plaze, mem," I axed her, "what manes the parade?" Whoy is the racket an' blatherin' made? Who's been a foightin', an' what was the row? Shtop a bit, leddy, an' tell me thrue, now. " Faith she looks oop, wid the shmoile in her eye, " They're sillybratin' the Foorth mv July!'' What a gossoon wuz this Foorth uv July! Who was the cratur', an' whin did he die? Whist! Biddy, darlint, an' hear the band play! See the lads steppin' so frisky an' gay! Bould sojer laddies in all their galore. Troth, but there's music an' dhrums to the fore! Flags all a-flyin' an' powdher ablaze — Thrue for yez, Biddy, these folk have quare ways. Sure, thin, St. Pathrick was betther, sez I, A dale betther mon, nor the Foorth uv July. THE LAKE OF THE DISMAL SWAMP. U^HEY made her a grave, too cold and damp [ For a heart so warm and true; And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp Where all night long, by a fire-fly lamp, She paddles her white canoe!" UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 189 "And her fire-fly lamp I soon shall see, And her paddle I soon shall hear; Long and loving our life shall be, And I'll hide the maid in a cypress, tree, When the footstep of death is near!" Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds — His path was rugged and sore. Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds, Through many a fen, where the serpent feeds, And man never trod before! And, when on the earth he sunk to sleep, If slumber his eyelids knew, He lay, where the deadly vine doth weep Its venomous tear, and nightly steep The flesh with blistering dew! And near him the she-wolf stirred the brake, And the copper-snake breathed in his ear. Till he starting cried, from his dream awake, "Oh, when shall I see the dusky lake, And the white canoe of my dear?" He saw the lake, and a meteor bright Quick over its surface played — "Welcome," he said, "my dear one's light" And the dim shore echoed, for many a night, The name of the death-cold maid! Till he hollowed a boat of the birchen bark, Which carried him off" from shore; 190 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Far^ far he followed the meteor spark, The wind was high and the clouds were dark, And the boat returned no more. But oft from the Indian hunter's camp. This lover and maid so true Are seen, at the hour of midnight damp, To cross the lake by a fire-fly lamp. And paddle their white canoe! Thomas Moore. THE OLD SEXTON. QIGH to a grave that was newly made, J Leaned a sexton old on his earth-worn spade; His work was done, and he paused to wait The funeral train at the open gate. A relic of bygone days was he, And his locks were as white as the foamy sea; And these words came from his lips so thin: "I gather them in — I gather them in — Gather — gather — I gather them in. " "I gather them in; for man and boy, Year after year of grief and joy, I've builded the houses that lie around In every nook of this burial-ground. Mother and daughter, father and son, Come to my solitude one by one; But come they stranger or come they kin, I gather them in — I gather them in. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 191 "Many are with me, yet I'm alone ; I'm King of the Dead, and I make my throne On a monument slab of marble cold — My sceptre of rule is the spade I hold. Come they from cottage, or come they from hall, Mankind are my subjects, all, all, all! May they loiter in pleasure, or toilfuUy spin, I gather them in — I gather them in. "I gather them in, and their final rest Is here, down here, in the earth's dark breast!" And the sexton ceased, as the funeral train Wound mutely over that solemn plain; And I said to myself: When time is told, A mightier voice than that sexton's old Will be heard o'er the last trump's dreadful din: "I gather them in — I gather them in — Gather — gather — gather them in ! " Park Benjamin. CHEISTMUS COMIN'. OHRISTMUS comin,' Christmus comin', ^ In de air it soun's a hummin'; I got Christmus in my bones, Nigger fer de turkey hones. Wish I was down at camp meetin', Whar de righteous fokes is greetin', Master tell me hoe de taters. White fokes got sech cuyus naters. 192 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. Nebber mind, de sun is high, Mornin' comin' by-an'-by. In white shirt, an' lay-down collar, Lazy nigger jump an' holler, Crack his fingers, hoopin', dancin', Yaller gals all come out prancing', Mistiss giv' 'em plenty new Dresses red 'an dresses blue. Turn yo toes out, walk in line, Satan see yo all de time, Settin' watchin for de sinner, Had six hundud for one dinner. Glory, hallelujah high, Jesus comin' by-an'-by. Christmus comin' in de mornin', Onct a year dat day be dawnin', Sinner come an' git yo whippin', Whisky jug yo dun been sippin, Kan't yo wait till day is ober? When yo ken lay down in clober. Kick yo heels, an' walk in pride, Eat an' drink an' swell yo side. " DOT MAID WID HAZEL HAIR. "pjALK not to me 'boud maidens rare, ^ Mit skin of bearly hue; Dere vasn'd any kind combare Mit one I hafe in view. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 193 She's gendle like der sofd gayzelle Her face vas awful fair — She has dwo aupurn eyes of plue Und hazel vas her hair. Her woice vas rich like anyding, Her moud was like der rose, Her sheeks — dem plooms just like a beach Und dimpled vas her nose. Her hands und feed vas shmall und need, Und von dot maiden sings, Dem leedle birds dey glose deir eyes, Und flob deir leedle vings. I'm going to dook dot leetle maid Some day to been my vife, Und made her habby like I kin, Der balance of her life. Und ven ve'm seddled down for goot, I'll show you someding rare, — . Dwo shmiling aupurn eyes of plue, Und shblendid hazel hair. THE COUNTERSIGN. 3 LAS! the weary hours pass slow, ^ The night is very dark and still; And in the marshes far below I hear the bearded whippoorwill; 194 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. I scarce can see a yard ahead, My ears are strained to catch each sound; I hear the leaves about me shed. And the spring's bubbh'ng through the ground. Along the beaten path I pace, Where white rags mark my sentry's track; In formless shrubs I seem to trace The foeman's form with bending back. I think I see him crouching low: I stop and list — I stoop and peer, Until the neighboring hillocks grow To groups of soldiers far and near. With ready piece I wait and watch, Until my eyes, familiar grown, Detect each harmless earthern notch. And turn guerillas into stone; And then, amid the lonely gloom, Beneath the tall old chestnut trees. My silent marches I resume. And think of other times than these. "Halt! Who goes there?" my challenge cry, It rings along the watchful line; "Relief!" I hear a voice reply; "Advance, and give. the countersign!" With bayonet at the charge I wait — The corporal gives the mystic spell; With arms aport I charge my mate, Then onward pass, and all is well. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 195 But in the tent that night awake, I ask, if in the fray I fall, Can I the mystic answer make When the angelic sentries call? And pray that Heaven may so ordain, Where'er I go, what fate be mine, Whether in pleasure or in pain, I still may have the countersign. WILLIAM TELL AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. T 7E craigs and peaks, I'm with you once again! (9/ I hold to you the hands you first beheld, To show they still are free. Methinks I hear A spirit in your echoes answer me, And bid your tenant welcome to his home Again! O sacred forms, how proud ye look! How high you lift your heads into the sky! How huge you are! how mighty and how free! Ye are the things that tower, that shine, whose smile Makes glad, whose frown is terrible, whose forms, Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty ! I'm with you once again! — I call to you With all my voice! I hold my hands to you To show they still are free. I rush to you. As though I could embrace you! Scaling yonder peak, I saw an eagle wheeling, near its brow, 196 UNCLE HERBERT* S SPEAKER. O'er the abyss. His broad, expanded wings Lay calm and motionless upon the air, As if he had floated there, without their aid, By the sole act of his unlorded will. That buoyed him proucily up! Instinctively I bent my bow; yet wheeled he, heeding not The death that threatened him! I could not shoot! 'T was liberty! I turned my bow aside. And let him soar away. Once Switzerland was free! Oh, with what pride I used to walk these hills, look up to heaven, And bless God that it was so! It was free! From end to end, from cliff to lake, 't was free! Free as our torrents are, that, leap our rocks. And plough our valleys without asking leave; Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow In very presence of the regal sun! How happy was I in it then! I loved Its very storms! Ay, often have I sat In my boat at night, when down the mountain gorge The wind came roaring — sat in it, and eyed The thunder breaking from, his cloud, and smiled To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head, And think I had no master, save his own! You know the jutting cliff, round which a track Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow To such another one, with scanty room For two to pass abreast? O'ertaken there By the mountain-blast, I've laid me flat along, UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 197 And \\hile gust followed gust more furiously, As if 't would sweep me o'er the horrid brink, And I have thought of other lands, whose storms Are summer-flaws to those of mine, and just Have wished me there — the thought that mine was free Has checked that wish; and I have raised my head, And cried, in thralldom, to that furious wind, "Blow on! — This is the land of liberty!" J. S. Knowles. THE LOVERS. OALLY Salter, she was a young teacher who ^^ taught, And her friend, Charley Church, was a preacher who praught, Though his enemies called him a screecher who scraught. His heart, when he saw her, kept sinking and sunk, And his eye, meeting hers, began winking and wunk; While she, in her turn, kept thinking and thunk. He hastened to woo her, and sweetly he wooed, For his love grew until to a mountain it grewed, And what he was longing to do then he doed. In secret he wanted to speak, and he spoke, To seek with his lips what his heart long had soke; So he managed to let the truth leak, and it loke. 198 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. He asked her to ride to the church, and they rode; They so sweetly did glide that they both thought they glode, And they came to the place to be tied, and were toed. Then homeward, he said, let us drive, and they drove, And as soon as they wished to arrive, they arrove, For whatever he couldn't contrive, she controve. The kiss he was dying to steal then he stole; At the feet where he wanted to kneel, then he knole; And he said, "I feel better than ever I fole." So they to each other kept clinging, and clung, While Time his swift circuit was winging and wung; And this was the thing he was bringing and brung: The man Sally wanted to catch, and had caught; That she wanted from others to snatch, and had snaught; Was the one that she now liked to scratch, and she scraught. And Charley's warm love began freezing and froze, While he. took to teazing, and cruelly toze The girl he had wished to be squeezing and squoze. "Wretch!" he cried, when she threatenad to leave him, and left, "How could you deceive me, as you have deceft?" And she answered, "I promised to cleave, and I've cleft. " Phcebe Gary. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 199 LEEDLE YAWCOB STRAUSS. T HAF von funny leedle poy Vot gomes shust to my knee,^ — Dt queerest schap, der Greatest rogue As efer you dit see. He runs, und schumps, und smashes dings In all barts off der house; But vot off dat? He vas mine son, Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss. He get der measles und der mumbs, Und eferyding dot's oudt: He sbills mine glass off lager bier, Foots snuff into mine kraut; He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese — Dot vos der roughest chouse; Pd dake dot from no oder poy But Leedle Yawcob Strauss. He dakes der milk-ban for a dhrum, Und cuts mine cane in dwo To make der sticks to beat it mit — Mine cracious, dot vas drue! I dinks mine hed vas schplit abart. He kicks oup sooch a touse; But nefer mind, der poys vas few Like dot young Yawcob Strauss. He asks me questions sooch as dese: Who baints mine nose so red? 200 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. Who vas it cuts der schmoodth blace oudt Vrom der hair ubon mine hed? Und vwhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp Vene'er der glim I douse? How gan I all dese dings eggsblain To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss? I somedimes dink I schall go vild Mit sooch a grazy poy, Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest Und beaceful dimes enshoy. But ven he vas ashleep in ped, So quiet as a mouse, I prays der Lord, "Dake anydings, But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss. " C. F. Adams. THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. fHE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold. And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath flown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 201 For the angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider, distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail. And their idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord! Byron. BACHELOE'S HALL. TQ ACHELOR'S Hall, what a quare-lookin' place J^ it is! Kape me from such all the days of my life! Sure but I think what a burnin' disgrace it is, Niver at all to be eettin' a wife. 202 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Pots, dishes, pans, an' such grasy commodities, Ashes and praty-skins, kiver the floor; His cupboard's a storehouse of comical oddities. Things that had niver been neighbors before. Say the old bachelor, gloomy an' sad enough, Placin' his tay-kettle over the fire; Soon it tips over — Saint Patrick! he's mad enough. If he were prisent, to fight with the squire! He looks for the platter — Grimalkin is scourin it! Sure, at a baste like that, swearin' 's no sin; His dish-cloth is missing; the pigs are devourin' it — Thunder and turf! what a pickle he's in! When his male's over, the table's left sittin' so; Dishes, take care of yourselves if you can; Divil a drop of hot water will visit ye, — Och, let him alone for a baste of a man! Now, like a pig in a mortar-bed wallowin'. Say the old bachelor kneading his dough; Troth, if his bread he could ate without swallowin', How it would favor his palate, ye know! Late in the night, when he goes to bed shiverin', Niver a bit is the bed made at all; He crapes like a terrapin under the kiverin'; — Bad luck to the pictur of Bachelor's Hall! John Finley. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 203 EORY O'MORE. yOUNG Rory O'More courted Kathleen Bawn,— He was bold as a hawk, she as soft as the dawn; He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please, And he thought the best way to do that was to tease. "Now Rory, be aisy!" sweet Kathleen would cry, Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye, — "With your tricks, I don't know, in troth, what I'm about; Faith! you've tazed till I've put on my cloak inside out. " "Och! jewel!" says Rory, "that same is the way Ye've thrated my heart for this many a day; And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure? For 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More. "Indeed, then," says Kathleen, "don't think of the like. For I half gave a promise to soothering Mike; The ground that I walk on he loves, I'll be bound — " "Faith!" says Rory, "I'd rather love you than the ground. " "Now, Rory, I'll cry if you don't let me go; Sure I dream every night that I'm hating you so!" "Och!" says Rory, "that same I'm delighted to hear, For dhrames always go by conthraries, my dear. So, jewel, kape dhraming that same till ye die, And bright morning will give dirty night the black lie 1 And 'tis plazed that I am' and why not, to be sure? Since 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More. 204 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. "Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you've tazed me enough; Sure I've thrashed, for your sake, Dinny Grimes and Jim Duff; And I've made myself, drinking your health, quite a baste, So I think, after that, I may talk to the praste. " Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her neck, So soft and so white, without freckle or speck; And he looked in her eyes, that were beaming with light. And he kissed her sweet lips, — don't you think he was right? "Now, Rory, leave off, sir, — you'll hug me no more. That's eight times to-day that you've kissed me be- fore. " "Then here goes another," says he, "to make sure! For there's luck in odd numbers, " says Rory O'More. Samuel Lover. THE PHILOSOPHER'S SCALES. ^ MONK, when his rites sacredotal were o'er, ^ In the depths of his cell with its stone-covered floor. Resigning to thought his chimerical brain. Once formed the contrivance we now shall explain; But whether by magic or alchemy's powers We know rot; indeed 'tis no business of ours. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 205 Perhaps it was only by patience and care, At last that he brought his invention to bear, In youth 'twas projected, but years stole away, And ere 'twas complete he was wrinkled and gray; But success is secure, unless energy fails, And at length he produced THE PHILOSOPHER'S Scales. "What were they?" you ask. You shall presently see; These scales were not made to weigh sugar and tea. O no; for such properties wondrous had they, That qualities, feelings, and thoughts they could weigh. Together with articles small or immense From mountains or planets to atoms of sense. Naught was there so bulky but there it would lay, And naught so ethereal but there it would stay. And naught so reluctant but in it must go: All which some examples more clearly will show. The first thing he weighed was the head of Voltaire, Which retained all the wdt that had ever been there; As a weight, he threw in the torn scrap of a leaf Containing the prayer of the penitent thief; When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell That it bounced like a ball on the roof of the cell. One time he put in Alexander the Great, With the garment that Dorcas had made, for a weight; 206 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. And though clad in armor from sandals to crown, The hero rose up and the garment went down. A long row of almshouses, amply endowed By a well-esteemed Pharisee, busy and proud, Next loaded one scale; while the other was pressed By those mites the poor widow dropped into the chest; Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce. And down, down the farthing-worth came with a bounce. By further experiments (no matter how) He found that ten chariots weighed less than one plough; A sword with gilt trapping rose up in the scale, Though balanced by only a ten-penny nail; A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear. Weighed less than a widow's uncrystallized tear. A lord and a lady went up at full sail, When a bee chanced to light on the opposite scale; Ten doctors, ten lawyers, two courtiers, one earl, Ten counsellors' wigs, full of powder and curl, All heaped in one balance and swinging from thence, Weighed less than a few grains of candor and sense; A first water diamond, with brilliants begirt, Than one good potato just washed from the dirt; Yet not mountains of silver and gold could suffice One pearl to outweigh — 'twas THE PEARL OF GREAT PRICE. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 207 Last of all, the whole world was bowled in at the grate, With the soul of a beggar to serve for a weight, When the former sprang up with so strong a rebuff, That it made a vast rent and escaped at the roof! When balanced in air, it ascended on high, And sailed up aloft, a balloon in the sky; While the scale with the soul in 't so mightily fell That it jerked the philosopher out of his cell. Jane Taylor. FLEA POWDEE. ^ FRENCHMAN once, — so runs a certain ditty, ^ Had crossed the straits to famous London city, To get a living by the arts of France, And teach his neighbor, rough John Bull, to dance. But, lacking pupils, vain was all his skill, His fortunes sank from low to lower still; Until, at last, pathetic to relate, — Poor Monsieur landed at starvation's gate. Standing, one-day, beside a cook-shop door, And gazing in, with aggravation sore, He mused within himself what he should do To fill his empty maw, and pocket too. By nature shrewd, he soon contrived a plan, And thus to execute it straight began: A piece of common brick he quickly found. And with a harder stone to powder ground, 208' UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Then wrapped the dust in many a dainty piece Of paper, labeled "Poison for de Fleas/' And sallied forth, his roguish trick to try, To show his treasures, and to see who'd buy. From street to street he cried, with lusty yell, "Here's grand and sovereign flea poudare to sell!" And fickle fortune seemed to smile at last, For soon a woman hailed him as he passed, Struck a quick bargain with him for the lot, And made him five crowns richer on the spot. Our wight, encouraged by this ready sale, Went into business on a larger scale; And soon, throughout all London, scattered he The "only genuine poudare for de flea." Engaged, one morning, in his new vocation Of mingled boasting and dissimulation, He thought he heard himself in anger called; And, sure enough, the self-same woman bawled, — In not a mild or very tender mood, — From the same window where before she stood, "Hey, there," said she," you Monsher Powder-man! Escape my clutches now, sir, if you can; ■I'll let you dirty, thieving Frenchmen know That decent people won't be cheated so. " Then spoke Monsieur, and heaved a saintly sigh, With humble attitude and tearful eye; — "Ah, Madame! si'l vous plait, attendez-vous, — I vill dis leetle ting explain to you: My poudare gran! magnifique! \\h\' abuse him? UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 209 Aha! I show you how to use him; First, you must wait until you catch de flea: Den, tickle him on de petite rib, you see; And when he laugh, — aha, he ope his throat; Den poke de poudare down! — Begar, he CHOKE. WORDS AND THEIR USES. 1®ESPECTED WIFE: From these few lines my V whereabouts thee'll learn — Moreover, I impart to thee my serious concern: The language of this people is a riddle unto me, And words, with them, are figments of a reckless mockery ! For instance: As I left the cars, an imp with smutty face. Said. "Shine?" "Nay, I'll not shine, "I said, "except with inward grace!" "Is 'inward grace' a liquid or a paste?" asked this young Turk; "Hi, Daddy! What is inward grace '? How does the old thing work?" "Friend," said I to Jehu, whose breath suggested gin, "Can thee convey me straightway to a reputable inn?" His answer's gross irrelevance I shall not soon forget; Instead of simply yea or nay, he gruffly said You bet!" 210 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. "Nay, nay, I shall not bet," said I, "for that would be a sin — Why don't thee answer plainly: Can thee take me to an inn? Thy vehicle is doubtless meant to carry folk about in — Then why prevaricate?" Said he, perversely, "Now yer shoutin'!" "Nay, verily, I shouted not," quoth I, '*my speech is mild: But thine — I grieve to say it — with falsehood is de- filed. Thee ought to be admonished to rid thy heart of guile." "See here! my lively moke," said he, "You sling on too much style!" "I've had these plain drab garments some twenty years and more," said I. "And when thee says I 'sling on style,' thee tells a willful lie!" At that he pranced around as if "a bee were in his bonnet," And, with hostile demonstrations, inquired if I was "on it!" "On what? Till thee explains thyself, I cannot tell," I said; He swore that something was "too thin;" moreover, it was "played;" UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 211 But all his jargon was surpassed, in wild absurdity, By threats, profanely emphasized, "to put a head on me!" "No son of Belial," said I, "that miracle can do!" Whereat he fell upon me with blows and curses, too. But failed to work that miracle — if such was his design — For instead of putting on a head, he strove to smite off mine! Thee knows I cultivate the peaceful habit of our sect, But this man's conduct wrought on me a singular effect ; For when he slapped my broad-brim off, and asked, "How's that for high?" It roused the Adam in me, and I smote him hip and thigh! The throng then gave a specimen of calumny let loose, And said I'd "snatched him bald-headed," and like- wise "cooked his goose!" Although, I solemnly affirm, I did not pull his hair. Nor did I cook his poultry — for he had no poultry there ! They called me "Bully boy," although I've seen nigh three-score year; And said that I was "lightning" when I "got up on my earl" 1 212 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. And when I asked if lightning climbed its ear, or dressed in drab, "You know how 't is yourself!" said one inconse- quential blab! Thee can conceive that by this time, I was somewhat perplexed ; Yea, the placid spirit in me has seldom been so vexed ; I tarried there no longer, for plain-spoken men — like me — With such perverters of our tongue, can have no unity. Frank Clive. AUNT SILVA MEETS YOUNG MAS'R JOHN. IJLJHY, hi! young Mas'r John, dat you? Well, bless de goodness, so it is! An' shake Aunt Silvy's han', you do? D'ole 'oman's mons'ous proud o' dis; Dese ole eyes mighty dim, Mas' John,^ An' streamin' tears don't help 'em none. How is itwid me? Well, you see, 'T aint no time been so good but what Ole mas'r's home befo' we's free Is nebber in de least fo'got — Dese twenty years since I was dah, An' you was fightin' in de wah. I mind dem Sat'day a'ternoons. When, out befo' de cabins, all UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 213 De darkies sat — sich happy loons! — To rest an' talk, an' laugh an' bawl. I hkes my freedom, fust an' last, But still I cries 'bout what's done past. My ole man's in his grave, long 'go — Some chilluns dead, none lef wid me; I's gittin' mighty feeble, now, An' lonesome in dis world, you see. Where does I lib? I's got no home, So here an' dah I has to roam. You's bought de ole place, you, Mas' John? An' takes me back to rest, you say? De cabin's mine? Bless God, I'm done Wid troubles till my dyin' day! Young mas'r, Silvy'U serve you still, An' God will lub you, dat he will! Ed. p. Thompson. UNCLE NEB'S DEFENSE. T^^Y breddren and sisters, I rises for to spiain /Dis matter what ye's talk n' 'bout; I hopes to make it plain. I'm berry sorry dat de ting hab come before de church. For when I splains it you will see dat it am nuffin' much. 214 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. My friends, your humble speakah, while trabblin' heah below, Has nebber stopped to hoard up gold and silber for to show, He's only stoppin' heah a spell; we allhab got to die, And so I always tried to lay my treasure up on high. Da's just one ting dat pesters me, and dat am dis, you see, De rabens fed old Lijah, but de creturs won't feed me; Da's got above dar business, and just go swoopin' 'round, And nebber stop to look at me, awaitin' on de ground. I waited mighty sartin like, my faith was powerful strong, I reckoned dat dem pesky birds would surely come along; But oh, my friendly hearers, my faith has kotched a a fall, Dem aggravatin' fowls went by, and never stopped at all. De meal and flour was almost gone, de pork-barrel gettin' low. And so one day I 'eluded dat I had better go To Brudder Johnson's tater-patch to borrer just a few. 'Twas evening 'fore I got a start — I had so much to do. UNCLE HERBER T S SFEA KER. 2 1 5 It happened dat de night was dark, bat dat I didn't mind; I knowed de way to dat dah patch — 'twas easy nufif to find, And den I didn't care to meet dat Johnson, for I knowed Dat he would sass me 'bout de mess ob taters dat I owed. I got de basket full at last, and tuck it on my back, And den was goin' to tote it home, when somethin' went kerwhack. I tot it was a cannon; but it just turned out to be Dat Johnson's one-hoss pistol a-pointin' straight at me. I tried to argufy wid him, I pologized a heap, But he said dat stealin' taters was as mean as stealin' sheep; Ob course, I could not take dat dar, it had an ugly sound. So de only ting for me to do was just to knock him down. And now, my friendly hearers, de story all am told; Ob course, I pounded Johnson till he yelled for me to hold; An' now I hopes you'grees wid me, dat dis yercase and such Am berry trifiin' matters to fotch before de church. 216 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. MR. SOCRATES SNOOKS. TX)R. SOCRATES SNOOKS, a lord of creation, y The second time entered the marriage relation, Xantippy Caloric accepted his hand, And thought him the jolliest man in the land. But scarce had the honeymoon passed o'er his head, When one morning, to Xantippy, Socrates said: "I think, for a man in my standing in life. This house is too small, as I now have a wife; So as early as possible carpenter Cary Shall be sent for to widen my house and my dairy. " "Now, Socrates, dearest," Xantippy replied, "I hate to hear everything vulgarly myed; So whenever you speak of our chattels again, Say,^2/r cow-house, ^^/r farm-house, and ^/^r pig-pen." "By your leave, Mrs. Snooks, I will say as I please. Of my houses, my lands, my gardens, my trees." "SAY OUR!" Xantippy exclaimed, in a rage. "I wonHy Mrs. Snooks, tho' you ask it an age." O woman! though only a part of man's rib, (If the story of Genesis don't tell a fib,) Should your naughty companion ere quarrel with you You should certainly prove the best man of the two. In the following case it was certainly true, For the lovely Xantippy just pulled off her shoe. And, laying about her on all sides at random, The adage was verified. Nil desperandinn. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 217 Mr. Socrates Snooks, after trying in vain To ward off the blows, which descended like rain, Concluded that valor's part was discretion, Crept under the bed like a terrified Hessian. But the dauntless Xantippy, not one whit afraid, Soon converted the siege into a blockade. r. Snooks, after reasoning the thing in his pate, Concluded 'twas useless to strive against fate, And so, like a tortoise, protruding his head, Said" My dear, may we come out from under ou/' bed ? " "Ha! ha!" she exclaimed, "Mr. Socrates Snooks, I perceive you agree to my terms, by your looks. Now, Socrates, hear me, from this happy hour. If you'll only obev, I'll never look sour. " 'Tis said the next Sabbath, ere going to church, He chanced for a clean pair of trousers to search; Having found them, he asked, with a few nervous twitches, "My dear, may we put on oiir new Sunday breeches?" NEVER GIVE UP. OEVER give up! — it is wiser and better y Always to hope than once to despair ; Fling off the load of doubt's cankering fetters, And break the dark spell of tyrannical care. Never give up, or the burden may sink you, — Providence kindly has mingled the cup; 21 8 UNCLE HERBER T'S SPEAKER. And in all trials and troubles bethink you, The watchword of life must be, "Never give up! Never give up; there are chances and changes, Helping the hopeful, a hundred to one. And through the chaos, High Wisdom arranges Ever success, if you'll only hold on, Never give up; for the wisest is boldest, Knowing that Providence mingles the cup. And of all maxims, the best, as the oldest. Is the stern watchword of "Never give up!" Never give up, though the grape-shot may rattle, Or the full thunder-cloud over you burst; Stand like a rock, and the storm or the battle Little shall harm you, though doing their worst. Never give up; if adversity presses. Providence wisely has mingled the cup ; And the best counsel in all your distresses Is the brave watchword of '* Never give up!" THE MOUNTAINS OF LIFE. n^HERE'S a land far away, 'mid the stars, we are 1 told. Where they know not the sorrows of time, — Where the pure waters wander through valleys of gold, And life is a treasure sublime; — rXCLE HEFIEZI^T-S SPEAKER. 219 •Tis the land of our God, tis tlie home of the soul, Where the ages of splendor eternally roll; Where the way-v.ear}- traveler reaches his goal. On the evergreen Mountains of Life. Our gaze cannot soar to that beautiful land. But our V isions have told of its bliss And our souls b}^ the gale of its gardens are fanned. When we faint in the desert of this ; And we sometimes have longed for its holy repose. When our spirits were torn with temptations and woes, And v. e*ve drank from the tide of the river that flows Fr;n^- the evergreen Mountains of Life. •j':.. ilie f:£.rs never tread the blue heavens at nighty But we think where the ransomed have trod I And the day never smiles from his palace of light, B-jt we feel the bright smile of our God! We are traveling homeward through changes and gloom. T: ?. ':': 5 :!3m where pleasures unceasingly bloom, .^n~ rur guide is tlie glor\- that shines through the tomb From the evergreen Mountains of Life. T. G. Clark. ? THE HT GEEZV. H. a daint}- r "?.::: '5 :::e I.y Green, That creepe::: : er rums :ia; 220 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Of right choice food are his meals, I ween, In his cell so lone and cold. The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed, To pleasure his dainty whim; And the mouldering dust that years have made Is a merry meal for him. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the Ivy Green. Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings, And a staunch old heart has he; How closely he twineth, how tight he clings To his friend the huge Oak-tree! And slyly he traileth along the ground, And his leaves he gently waves. As he joyously hugs and crawleth around The rich mould of dead men's graves. Creeping where grim death has been, A rare old plant is the Ivy Green. Whole ages have fled, and their works decayed, And nations have scattered been; But the stout old Ivy shall never fade From its hale and hearty green. The brave old plant, in its lonely days, Shall fatten upon the past; For the stateliest building man can raise Is the Ivy's food at last. Creeping on, where time has been, A rare old plant is the Ivy Green. Dickens. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 221 THE O'LINCOLN FAMILY. 2 FLOCK of merry singing-birds were sporting ^ in the grove, Some were warbling cheerily, and some were making love; There were Bobolincon, Wadolincon, Winterseeble, Conquedle, A livelier set was never led by tabor, pipe or fiddle, Crying, "Phew, shew, Wadolincon, see, see, Bobo- lincon, Down among the tickletops, hiding in the buttercups ! I know the saucy chap, I see his shining cap Bobbing in the clover there, — see, see, see!" Up flies Bobolincon, perching on an apple-tree, Startled by his rival's song, quickened by his raillery; Soon he spies the rogue afloat, curvetting in the air. And merrily he turns about, and warns him to beware ! " Tis you that would a-wooing go, down among the rushes O! But wait a week, till flowers are cheery, — wait a week, and, ere you marry, Be sure of a house wherein to tarry, Wadolink, Whiskodink, Tom Denny, wait, wait, wait!" Every one's a funny fellow; everyone's a little mel- low; Follow, follow, follow, follow, o'er the hill and in the hollow! 222 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Merrily, merrily, there they hie; now they rise and now they fly ; They cross and turn, and in and out, and down in the middle, and wheel about, — With a "Phew, shew, Wadolincon! listen to me, Bobolincon! — Happy's the wooing that's speedily doing, that's speedily doing. That's merry and over with the bloom of the clover! Bobolincon, Wadolincon, Winterseeble, follow, fol- low me! " Wilson Flagg. ROCK ME TO SLEEP. iQ ACKWARD, turn backward, O Time, in your F flight. Make me a child again, just for to-night; Mother, come back from the echoless shore, Take me again to your heart as of yore, Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair, Over my slumbers your loving watch keep — Rock me to sleep, mother, — rock me to sleep. Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years! I am so weary of toil and of tears, — Toil without recompense, tears all in vain, — Take them and give me my childhood again! UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 223 I have grown weary of dust and decay, — Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away; Weary of sowing for others to reap; — Rock me to sleep, mother, — rock me to sleep! Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue, Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you ! ^ Many a summer the grass has grown green, Blossomed, and faded our faces between, ^ Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain > Long I to-night for your presence again. J Come from the silence so long and so deep; — I Rock me to sleep, mother, — rock me to sleep! ■ Over my heart, in the days that are flown, .; No love like mother-love ever has shone; j| No other worship abides and endures, — «, Faithful, unselfish, and patient, like yours: None like a mother can charm away pain i From the sick soul and the world-weary brain. ' Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep; — \ Rock me to sleep, mother, — rock me to sleep! "^ Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold, Fall on your shoulders again as of old; Let it drop over my forehead to-night, y Shading my faint eyes away from the light; ii For with its sunny-edged shadows once more Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore; Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep; — Rock me to sleep, mother, — rock me to sleep! 224 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Mother, dear mother, the years have been long Since I last listened your lullaby song: Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem Womanhood's years have been only a dream. Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace. With your light lashes just sweeping your face, Never hereafter to wake or to weep; — Rock me to sleep, mother, — rock me to sleep! Elizabeth A. Allen. THE CONQUERED BANNER. OURL that banner, for 'tis weary; Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary; Furl it, fold it, it is best; For there's not a man to wave it, And there's not a sword to save it, And there's not one left to lave it In the blood which heroes gave it; And its foes now scorn and brave it: Furl it, hide it — let it rest. Take that banner down, 'tis tattered! Broken is its shaft and shattered, And the valiant host are scattered. Over whom it floated high. Oh, 'tis hard for us to fold it! Hard to think there's none to hold it; Hard that those that once unrolled it Now must furl it with a sigh. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 225 Furl that banner — furl it sadly — Once ten thousands hailed it gladly And ten thousands wildly, madly, Swore it should forever wave — Swore that foeman's sword should never Hearts like theirs entwined dissever, 'Till that flag should float forever O'er their freedom or their grave! Furl it! for the hands that grasped it, And the hearts that clasped it, Cold and dead are lying low; And that banner — it is trailing! While around it sounds the wailing Of its people in their woe. For though conquered, they adore it! Love the cold dead hands that bore it! Weep for those who fell before it! Pardon those who trailed and tore it, But, Oh! wildly they deplore it. Now, who furl and fold it so. Furl that banner! True 'tis gory, Yet 'tis wreathed around with glory, And 'twill live in song and story Though its folds are in the dust: For its fame on brightest pages, Penned by poets and by sages, Shall go sounding down the ages — Furl its folds though now v/e must. 226 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Furl that banner, softly, slowly; Treat it gently — it is holy. For it droops above the dead. Touch it not — unfold it never — Let it droop there furled forever. For its people's hopes are dead! Abram T. Ryan. THE PICKET GUARD. ^ "3 LL quiet along the Potomac," they say, ^ "Except now and then a stray picket Is shot, as he walks on his beat to and fro, By a rifleman hid in the thicket; 'Tis nothing — a private or two now and then Will not count in the news of the battle; Not an officer lost — only one of the men, Moaning out, all alone, his death rattle." All quiet along the Potomac to-night, Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming; Their tents in the rays of the clear autumn moo.i Or the light of the watch-fires, are gleaming. A tremulous sigh, as the gentle night-wind Through the forest-leaves softly is creeping; While stars up above, with their glittering eyes. Keep guard — for the army is sleeping. There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread, As he tramps from the rock to the fountain, UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 227 And thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed Far away in the cot on the mountain. His musket falls slack — his face, dark and grim, Grows gentle with memories tender, As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep. For their mother — may Heaven defend her! The moon seems to shine just as brightly as then, That night, when the love yet unspoken Leaped up to his lips — when low-murmured vows Were pledged to be ever unbroken. Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes, He dashes off tears that are welling, And gathers his gun closer up to its place. As if to keep down the heart-swelling. He passes the fountain, the blasted pine-tree — The footstep is lagging and weary; Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light. Toward the shades of the forest so dreary. Hark! was it the night-wind that rustled the leaves? Was it moonlight so suddenly flashing? It looked like a rifle "Ah! Mary, good-bye!" And the life-blood is ebbing and plashing. All quiet along the Potomac to-night; No sound save the rush of the river; While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead — The picket is off duty forever. Ethel L. Beers. 228 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. I OW dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view! — The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild- wood. And every loved spot which my infancy knew! The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it; The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell; The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it; And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well- The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well. That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure; For often at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure — The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glow- ing, And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell! Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well — The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 229 How sweet from the green, mossy brim to receive it, As, poised on the curb, it incHned to my Hps! Not a full, blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, The brightest that beauty or revelry sips And now, far removed from the loved habitation. The tear of regret will intrusively swell. As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket that hangs in the well — The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. The moss-covered bucket that hangs in the well! Samuel Woodworth. THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. fO Y the flow of the inland river, J^ Whence the fleets of iron have fled, Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver, Asleep are the ranks of the dead; — Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day; — Under the one, the Blue; Under the other, the Gray. These in the robings of glory, Those in the gloom of defeat, All with the battle-blood gory, In the dusk of eternity meet; — Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day; — Under the laurel, the Blue; Under the willow, the Gray. 230 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. From the silence of sorrowful hours The desolate mourners go, Lovingly laden with flowers Alike for the friend and the foe; — Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day; — Under the roses, the Blue; Under the lillies, the Gray. So with an equal splendor The morning sun-rays fall, With a touch impartially tender, On the blossoms blooming for all; — Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day; — 'Broidered with gold, the Blue; Mellowed with gold, the Gray. So, when the summer calleth. On forest and field of grain With an equal murmur falleth The cooling drip of the rain; — Under the sod and the dew. Waiting the judgment day; — Wet with th(i rain, the Blue; Wet with the rain, the Gray. Sadly, but not with upbraiding, The generous deed was done; In the storm of the years that are fading, No braver battle was won; — UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 231 Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; — Under the blossoms, the Blue; Under the garlands, the Gray. No more shall the war-cry sever, Or the winding rivers be red; They banish our anger forever When they laurel the graves of our dead! Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day;— Love and tears for the Blue; Tears and love for the Gray. Francis M. Finch. WATERLOO. n^HERE was a sound of revelry by night, I And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! Did ye not hear it? No; 't was but the wind Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet 232 UNCLE HERBERT S SPEAKER. To chase the glowing hours with flying feet; But hark! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! arm! it is — it is — the cannon's opening roar! Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings and distress. And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If evermore should meet those mutual eyes. Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise! And there was mounting in hot haste; the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips, — "The foe! They come! they come!" And wild and high the "The Cameron's gather- ing" rose! UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 233 The war-notes of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes; How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers With the fierce native daring which instills The stirring memory of a thousand years, And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears! Byron. MARCO BOZZAEIS. 71 T midnight, in his guarded tent, (^ The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power. In dreams, through camp and court he bore The trophies of a conqueror; In dreams his song of triumph heard; Then wore his monarch's signet-ring. Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing. As Eden's garden bird. At midnight, in the forest shades, Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, — True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and hand. There had the Persian's thousands stood, 234 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. There had the glad earth drunk their blood, On old Plataea's day ; And now there breathed that haunted air The sons of sires who conquered there, With arm to strike, and soul to dare, As quick, as far, as they. An hour passed on, the Turk awoke: That bright dream was his last; He woke— to hear his sentries shriek, "To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!'' He woke — to die midst flame, and smoke. And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke, And death-shots falling thick and fast As lightnings from the mountain-cloud ; And heard, with voice as trumpet loud; Bozzaris cheer his band! "Strike — till the last armed foe expires: Strike — for your altars and your fires; Strike — for the green graves of your sires God, and your native land! '' They fought, like brave men, long and well; They piled the ground with Moslem slain; They conquered, but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein. His few surviving comrades saw His smile, when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won; Then saw in death his eyelids close, UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 235 Calmly, as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun. Come to the bridal chamber, Death! Come to the mother when she feels For the first time her first-born's breath; Come when the blessed seals Which close the pestilence are broke, And crowded cities wail its stroke; Come in consumption's ghastly form, The earthquake's shock, the ocean storm; Come when the heart beats high and warm With banquet-song, and dance, and wine, And thou art terrible: the tear, The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, And all we know, or dream, or fear Of agony, are thine. But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free. Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be. SOUTH CAKOLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS. [Frora a speech in defense of the Union and the Constitution, dehvered in the Senate of the United States, January 26, 1830. n^HE eulogium pronounced by the honorable gen- _[ tleman on the character of the State of South CaroHna, for her Revolutionary and other merits, 236 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. meets my hearty concurrence. I shall not acknowl- edge that the honorable member goes before me in regard for whatever of distinguished talent or dis- tinguished character South Carolina has produced. I claim part of the honor; I partake in the pride of her great names. I claim them for countrymen, one and all — the Laurenses, the Rutledges, the Pinck- neys, the Sumters, the Marions — Americans all, whose fame is no more to be hemmed in by State lines than their talents and patriotism were capable of being circumscribed within the same narrow limits. In their day and generation they served and hon- ored the country, and the whole country; and their renown is of the treasures of the whole country. Him whose honored name the gentleman himself bears — does he esteem me less capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy for his sufferings, than if his eyes had first opened upon the light of Massachusetts, instead of South Carolina? Sir, does he suppose it in his power to exhibit a Carolina name so bright as to produce envy in my bosom? No, sir; increased gratification and delight, rather. I thank God that, if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is able to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit, which would drag angels down. When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the Senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit because it happens to spring up beyond the limits of UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 237 my own State or neighborhood; when I refuse, for any such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to American talent, to elevated patriotism, to sincere devotion to liberty and the country; or if I see an uncommon endowment of heaven — if I see extraor- dinary capacity and virtue in any son of the South, and if, moved by local prejudice or gangrened by State jealousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a hair from his just character and just fame — may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth. Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections; let me indulge in refreshing remembrances of the past; let me remind you that, in early times, no States cher- ished greater harmony, both of principle and feeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina. Would to God that harmony might again return ! Shoulder to shoulder they went through the Revolution; hand in hand they stood round the administration of Wash- ington, and felt his own great arm lean on them for support. Unkind feeling, if it exist, alienation and distrust, are the growth, unnatural to such soils, of false principles since sown. They are weeds, the •seeds of which that same great arm never scat- tered. Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts; she needs none. There she is. Be- hold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her history; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and 238 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. Lexington, and Bunker Hill; and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, fallen in the great struggle for independence, now lie mingled with the soil of every State, from New England to Georgia; and there they will lie forever. And, sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth was nurtured and sus- tained, there it still lives, in the strength of its man- hood, and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it; if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it; if folly and mad- ness, if uneasiness, under salutary and necessary restraint, shall succeed in separating it from that Union by which alone its existence is made sure — it will stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked; it will stretch forth its arm, with whatever of vigor it may still retain, over the friends who gathered round it; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amid the proudest monu- ments of its own glory, and on the very spot of its origin. Daniel Webster. DEDICATION OF GETTYSBURG CEMETERY. OOURSCORE and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposi- tion that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war: testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 239 can long endure. We are met on a great battle- field of that war. We are met to dedicate a portion of it as the final resting-place of those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our power to add or detract, The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here, It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work they have thus far so nobly carried on. It is rather for us to be here ded- icated to the great task remaining before us, that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to the cause for which they gave the last full meas- ure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that the na- tion shall, under God, have a new birth of freedom, and that the government of the people, by the peo- ple, and for the people, shall .not perish from the earth. ABRAHAM LINCOLN. VALLEY FORGE. [Extract from an oration delivered upon the occasion of the first Centenary Anniversary of the Encampment at Valley Forge.] W) Y Countrymen: The century that has gone by has changed the face of nature and wrought 240 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. a revolution in the habits of mankind. We stand to-day at the dawn of an extraordinary age. Freed from the chains of ancient thought and superstition, man has begun to win the most extraordinary vic- tories in the domain of science. One by one he has dispelled the doubts of the ancient world. Nothing is too difficult for his hand to attempt — no region too remote — no place too sacred for his daring eye to penetrate. He has robbed the earth of her secrets and sought to solve the mysteries of the heavens! He has secured and chained to his service the elemental forces of nature — he has made the fire his steed — the winds his ministers — the seas his pathway — the lightning his messenger. He has descended into the bowels of the earth, and walked in safety on the bottom of the sea. He has raised his head above the clouds, and made the impalpable air his resting-place. He has tried to analyze the stars, count the constellations, and weigh the sun. He has advanced with such astounding speed that, breathless we have reached a moment when it seems as if distance had been annihilated, time made as naught, the invisible seen, the inaudible heard, the unspeakable spoken, the intangible felt, the im- possible accomplished. And already we knock at the door of a new century which promises to be in- finitely brighter and more enlightened and happier than this. But in all this blaze of light which illuminates the present and casts its reflection into UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 241 the distant recesses of the past, there is not a single ray that shoots into the future. Not one step have we taken toward the solution of the mystery of life. That remains to-day as dark and unfathomable as it was ten thousand years ago. We know that we are more fortunate than our fathers. We believe that our children shall be happier than we. We know that this century is more enlightened that the last. We believe that the time to come will be better and more glorious than this. We think, we believe, we hope, but we do not know. Across that threshold we may not pass; behind that vail we may not penetrate. Into that country it may not be for us to go. It may be vouchsafed to us to behold it, wonderingly, from afar, but never to enter in. It matters not. The age in which we live is but a link in the endless and eternal chain. Our lives are like the sands upon the shore; our voices like the breath of this summer breeze that stirs the leaf for a moment and is for- gotten. Whence we have come and whither we shall go, not one of us can tell. And the last sur- vivor of this mighty multitude shall stay but a little while. But in the impenetrable To Be, the endless generations are advancing to take our places as we fall. For them as for us shall the earth roll on and the seasons come and go, the snowflakes fall, the flowers bloom, and the harvests be gathered in. 242 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. For them as for us shall the sun, like the life of man, rise out of darkness in the morning and sink into darkness in the night. For them as for us shall the years march by in the sublime procession of the ages. And here, in this place of sacrifice, in this vale of humiliation, in this valley of the shadow of that Death out of which the life of America arose, regenerate and free, let us believe with an abiding faith that, to them, Union will seem as dear, and Liberty as sweet, and Progress as glorious, as they were to our fathers and are to you and me, and that the institutions which have made us happy, pre- served by the virtue of our children, shall bless the remotest generations of the time to come. And unto Him who holds in the hollow of His hand the fate of nations, and yet marks the sparrow's fall, let us lift up our hearts this day, and into His eternal care commend ourselves, our children, and our country. H. A. Brown. LIBEETY OR DEATH. [From the speech delivered in March, 1775, in the second Virginia Convention, in support of the resolution "that the colony be immediately put in a state of defence."] TX^R. President: It is natural to man to in- / dulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren, till she transforms us in- to beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 243 great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, hav- ing eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal sal- vation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth — to know the worst, and to provide for it. I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past; and, judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet! Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask your- selves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and re- conciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation — the last argu- ments to which kings resort. I ask, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us 244 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britian any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none; they are meant for us; they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argu- ment? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable, but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm that is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hailds of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remon- strances have produced additional violence and in- sult; our applications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne! In vain, after these things, may we DNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 245 indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free; if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending; if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight! I repeat it, sir: We must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us! They tell us, sir, that we are weak — unable to cope with so formidable an adversary; but when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of Nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone: there is a just God who presides over the destinies 246 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle is not to the strong alone: it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the con- test. There is no retreat, but in submission or slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable, and let it come! I repeat it, sir: Let it come! It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentle- men may cry "Peace! peace!" but there is no peace. The war is actually begun ! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of re- sounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentleman wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Al- mighty God! I know not what course others may take, but, as for me, give me liberty, or give me death! PATRICK HENRY. THE TWO EOADS. T was New Year's night. An aged man was stand- ing at a window. He mournfully raised his eyes toward the deep blue sky, where the stars were floating like white lilies on the surface of a clear, I UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAK ItR. 247 calm lake. Then he cast them on the earth, wliere few more helpless beings than himself were moving towards their inevitable goal — the tomb. Already he had passed sixty of the stages which lead to it, and he had brought from his journey nothing but errors and remorse. His health was destroyed, his mind unfurnished, his heart sorrowful, and his old age devoid of comfort. The days of his youth rose up in a vision before him, and he recalled the sol- emn moment when his father had placed him at the entrance of two roads, one leading into a peaceful, sunny land, covered with a fertile harvest, and re- sounding with soft, sweet songs; while the other conducted the wanderer into a deep, dark cave, whence there was no issue, where poison flowed in- stead of water, and where serpents hissed and crawled. He looked towards the sky, and cried out in his anguish: "O youth, return! O my father, place me once more at the crossway of life, that I may choose the better road!" But the days of his youth had passed away, and his parents were with the departed. He saw wandering lights float over dark marshes, and then disappear. "Such," he said, "were the days of my wasted life!" He saw a star shoot from heaven, and vanish in darkness athwart the church- yard. "Behold an emblem of myself!" he exclaimed; and the sharp arrows of unavailing remorse struck him to the heart. 248 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Then he remembered his early companions, who had entered Hfe with him, but who, having trod the paths of virtue and industry, were now happy and honored on this New Year's night. The clock in the high church-tower struck, and the sound, falling on his ear, recalled the many tokens of the love of his parents for him, their erring son; the lessons they had taught him; the prayers they had offered up in his behalf. Overwhelmed with shame and grief, he dared no longer look towards that heaven where they dwelt. His darkened eyes dropped tears, and, with one despairing effort, he cried aloud, "Come back, my early days! Come back!" And his youth did return; for all this had been but a dream, visiting his slumbers on New Year's night. He was still young; his errors only were no dream. He thanked God fervently that time was still his own; that he had not yet entered the deep, dark cavern, but that he was free to tread the road leading to the peaceful land where sunny harvests wave. Ye who still linger on the threshold of life, doubt- ing which path to choose, remember that when years shall be passed, and your feet shall stumble on the dark mountain, you will cry bitterly, but cry in vain, "O youth, return! Oh, give me back my early days!" jEAN Paul Richter. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 249 THE POLISH BOY. "LJLJHENCE came those shrieks so wild and shrill, That like an arrow cleave the air, Causing the blood to creep and thrill With such sharp cadence of despair? Once more they come! as if a heart Was cleft in twain by one quick blow And every string had voice apart To utter its peculiar woe! Whence came they? From yon temple, where An altar raised for private prayer. Now farms the warriors marble bed, Who Warsaw's gallant armies led. The dim funereal tapers threw, A holy luster o'er his brow And burnish with their rays of light The mass of curls that gather bright Above the haughty brow and eye Of a young boy that's kneeling by. What hand is that whose icy press Clings to the dead with death's own grasp, But feels no answering caress — No thrilling fingers seek its clasp? As is the hand of her whose cry Rang wildly late upon the air, When the dead warrior met her eye. Outstretched upon the altar there. 250 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Now with white lips and broken moan She sinks beside the altar stone; But, hark! the heavy tramp of feet Is heard along the gloomy street; Nearer and nearer yet they come With clanking arms and noiseless drum. They leave the pavement. Flowers that spread Their beauties by the path they tread Are crushed and broken. Crimson hands Rend brutally their blooming bands. Now whispered curses low and deep, Around the holy temple creep. The gate is burst The ruffian band Rush in and savagely demand With brutal voice and oath profane, The startled boy for exile's chain. The mother sprang with gesture wild, And to her bosom snatched her child; Then with pale cheek and flashing eye, Shouted with fearful energy — "Back, ruffians, back! nor dare to tread Too near the body of my dead! Nor touch the living boy — I stand Between him and your lawless band! No traitor he — but, listen, I Have cursed your master's tyranny. I cheered my lord to join the band Of those who swore to free our land, UNCLE HERBERTS SFEAKLR. 251 Or fighting, die; and when he pressed Me for the last time to his breast, I knew that soon his form would be Low as it is, or Poland free. " He went and grappled with the foe. Laid every haughty Russian low; But he is dead — the good — the brave — And I, his wife, am worse — a slave! Take me, and bind these arms and hands With Russia's heaviest iron bands, And drag me to Siberia's wild To perish, if 'twill save my child." "Peace, woman, peace!" the leader cried, Tearing the pale boy from her side; And in his ruffian grasp he bore His victim to the temple door. "One moment," shrieked the mother, "one; Can land or gold redeem my son? • If so, I bend my Polish knee. And Russia, ask a boon of thee. Take palaces, take lands, take all. But leave him free from Russian thrall. Take these," and her white arms and hands She stripped of rings and diamond bands, And tore from braids of long, black hair The gems that gleamed like starlight there; Unclasped the brilliant coronal 252 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. And carcanet of orient pearl; Her cross of blazing rubies last, Down at the Russian's feet she cast. He stooped to seize the ghttering store, Upspringing from the marble floor, The mother, with a cry of joy Snatched to her leaping heart the boy! But, no! the Russian's iron grasp Again undid the mother's clasp; Forward she fell, with one long cry, Of more than mother's agony. But the brave child is roused at length, And breaking from the Russian's hold, He stands a giant in the strength Of his young spirit, fierce and bold. Proudly he towers, his flashing eye So blue and fiercely bright, Seems lighted from the eternal sky, So brilliant is its light. His curling lips and crimson cheeks, Foretell the thought before he speaks With a full voice of proud command, He turns upon his wondering band. "Ye hold me not! no, no, nor can. This hour has made the boy a man. The world shall witness that one soul Fears not to prove itself a Pole. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 253 I knelt beside my slaughtered sire, Nor felt one throb of vengeful ire; I wept upon his marble brow — Yes, wept — I was a child; but, now, My noble mother, on her knee. Has done the work of years for me. Although in this small tenement My soul is cramped, unbowed, unbent, I've still within me ample power To free myself this very hour. This dagger in my heart! and then Where is your boasting power, base men?" He drew aside his broidered vest. And there, like slumbering serpents crest. The jeweled haft of a poniard bright, Glittered a moment on the sight. "Ha! start ye back! Fool! coward! knave! Think you my noble father's glave. Could drink the life-blood of a slave? The pearls that on the handle flame Would blush to rubies in their shame; The blade would quiver in thy breast, Ashamed of such ignoble rest; No; thus I rend thy tyrant's chain And fling him back a boy's disdain!" A moment, and the funeral light Flashed on the jeweled weapon bright ; Another, and his young heart's blood 254 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Leaped to the floor, a crimson flood; Quick to the mother's side he sprang, As on the ear his clear voice rang — "Up! mother, up! look on my face I only wait for thy embrace; One last, last word — a blessing, one To prove thou knowest what I have done No look! no word! canst thou not feel My warm blood o'er thy heart congeal? Speak, mother, speak! lift up thy head. What, silent still? then art thou dead! Great God, I thank Thee! Mother I Rejoice with thee, and thus to die. Slowly he falls. The clustering hair Rolls back and leaves that forehead bare. One long, deep breath, and his pale head Lay on his mother's bosom, dead! Mrs. Ann S. Stephenson. SMITING THE ROCK, rr? HE stern old judge, in relentless mood, Y Glanced at the two who before him stood; She was bowed and haggard and old. He was young and defiant and bold — Mother and son; and to gaze at the pair. Their diff"erent attitudes, look and air, One would believe, ere the truth were known The mother convicted, and not the son. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 255 There was the mother; the boy stood nigh With a shameless look, and his head held high. Age had come over her, sorrow and care; These mattered but little so he was there, A prop to her years and a light to her eyes. And prized as only a mother can prize; But what for him could a mother say, Waiting his doom on a sentence-day? Her husband had died in his shame and sin, And she, a widow, her living to win, Had toiled and struggled from morn till night. Making with want a wearisome fight. Bent over her work with resolute zeal. Till she felt her old frame totter and reel, Her weak limbs tremble, her eyes grow dim; But she had her boy, and she toiled for him. And he — he stood in the criminal dock, With a heart as hard as a flinty rock. An impudent glance and a reckless air, Braving the scorn of the gazers there; Dipped in crime and encompassed round With proof of his guilt by captors found. Ready to stand, as he phrased it, "game," Holding not crime, but penitence, shame. Poured in a flood o'er. the mother's cheek The moistened prayer.s where the tongue was weak. And she saw through the mist of those bitter tears Only the child in his innocent years; 256 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. She remembered him pure as a child might be, The guilt of the present she could not see; And. for mercy her wistful looks made prayer To the stern old judge in his cushioned chair. "Woman," the old judge crabbedly said, "Your boy is the neighborhood's plague and dread; Of a gang of reprobates chosen chief; An idler and rioter, ruffian and thief. The jury did right, for the facts were plain; Denial is idle, excuses are vain. The sentence the court imposes is one" — "Your honor," she cried, "he's my only son." The tipstaves grinned at the words she spoke, And a ripple of fun through the court-room broke; But over the face of the culprit came An angry look and a shadow of shame. "Don't laugh at my mother!" loud cries he; "You've got me fast, and can deal with me; But she's too good for your coward jeers, And I'll — " then his utterance choked with tears The judge for a moment bent his head, And looked at him keenly, and then he said: "We suspend the sentence — the boy can go; "But say!" — and he raised his finger then, And the words were tremulous, forced and low — "Don't let them bring you hither again. There is something good in you yet, I know; I'll give you a chance — make the most of it — Go!" UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 257 The twain went forth, and the old judge said: "I meant to have given him a year instead. And perhaps 'tis a difficult thing to tell If clemency here be ill or well. But a rock was struck in that callous heart, From which a fountain of good may start; For one on the ocean of crime long tossed, Who loves his mother, is not quite lost." THE BURIAL OF THE DANE. TQ LUE gulf all around us, J^ Blue sky overhead; Muster all on the quarter, We must bury the dead! It is but a Danish sailor. Rugged of front and form — A common son of the forecastle. Grizzled with son and storm. His name and the strand he hailed from We know; and there's nothing more! But perhaps his mother is waiting On the lonely Island of Fohr. Still, as he lay there dying. Reason drifting awreck, " 'Tis my watch," he would mutter "I must go upon deck!" Ay, on deck — by the foremast! — But watch and look-out are done; 258 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. The Union-Jack laid o'er him, How quiet he lies in the sun! Slow the ponderous engine, Stay the hurrying shaft! Let the roll of the ocean Cradle our giant craft; Gather around the grating, Carry your messmate aft! Stand in order, and listen To the holiest pages of prayer; Let every foot be quiet. Every head be bare; The soft trade-wind is lifting A hundred locks of hair. Our captain reads the service, (A little spray on his cheeks,) The grand old words of burial, And the trust a true heart seeks — "We therefore commit his body To the deep;" and, as he speaks, Launched from the weather railing. Swift as the eye can mark, The ghastly shotted hammock Plunges, away from the shark, Down a thousand fathoms — Down into the dark. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 1^59 A thousand summers and winters The stormy gulf shall roll High o'er his canvas coffin; But silence to doubt and dole! There's a quiet harbor somewhere For the poor a-weary soul. Free the fettered engine, Speed the tireless shaft! Loose to gallant and topsail, The breeze is fair abaft! Blue are all around us, Blue sky bright overhead; Every man to his duty! We have buried the dead. H. H. Brownell. CATILINE'S DEFIANCE. Conscript Fathers: T DO not rise to waste the n.ght in words: Let that Plebeian talk, 'tis not my trade; But here I stand for right, — let him show proofs^ — For Roman right, though none, it seems, dare stand To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there! Cling to your master, judges, Romans, slaves\ His charge is false; — I dare him to his proofs. You have my answer. Let my actions speak! But this I will avow, that I have scorned And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong 260 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword, Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back, Wrongs me not half so much as he who shuts The gates of honor on me, — turning out The Roman from his birthright; and for what? To fling your offices to every slave! Vipers, that creep where man disdains to climb, And having wound their loathsome track to the top Of this huge, mouldering monument of Rome, Hang hissing at the nobler man below. Come, consecrated Lictors, from your thrones; Fling down your sceptres; take the rod and axe. And make the murder as you make the law. Banished from Rome! What's banished, but set free From daily contact of the things I loathe? "Tried and convicted traitor!" Who says this? Who'll prove it at his peril, on my head? Banished! I thank you for't. It breaks my chain! I held some slack allegiance till this hour ; But no2u my sword's my own. Smile on, my Lords! I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, I have within my heart's hot cells shut up; To leave you in your lazy dignities. But here I stand and scoff you! here I fling Hatred and full defiance in your face! Your Consul's merciful; — for this, all thanks. He dares not touch a hair of Catiline! UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 261 "Traitor!" I go; but I return! This — trial! Here I devote you Senate! I've had wrongs To stir a fever in the blood of age, Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel. This day's the birth of sorrow; this hour's work Will breed proscriptions! Look to your hearths, my Lords! For there, henceforth, shall sit, for household gods, Shapes hot from Tartarus; all shames and crimes; Wan Treachery, Avith his thirsty dagger drawn; Suspicion poisoning his brother's cup; Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe. Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones; Till Anarchy comes down on you like night, And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave. I go; but not to leap the gulf alone. I go; but when I come, 'twill be the burst Of ocean in the earthquake, — rolling back In swift and mountainous ruin. Fare you well! You built my funeral-pile; but your best blood Shall quench its flame! Back slaves! I will return. GEORGE Croly RIENZI'S ADDRESS. 1 COME not here to talk! Ye know too well The story of our thraldom; we are slaves! The bright sun rises to his course, and lights A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beam 262 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Falls on a slave! — not such as, swept along By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads To crimson glory and undying fame; But base, ignoble slaves — slaves to a horde Of petty tyrants, feudal despots, lords. Rich in some dozen paltry villages. Strong in some hundred spearmen — only great In that strange spell, a name! Each hour, dark fraud, Or open rapine, or protected murder, Cries out against them. But this very day. An honest man, my neighbor — there he stands — Was struck — struck like a dog — by one who wore The badge of Ursini! because, forsooth. He tossed not high his ready cap in air Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, At sight of that great ruffian! Be we men. And suffer such dishonor? Men and wash not The stains away in blood? Such shames are common. I have known deeper wrongs, I that speak to you, I had a brother once, a gracious boy, Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, Of sweet and quiet joy; there was the look Of heaven upon his face, which limners give To the beloved disciple. How I loved That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years, Brother at once and son! He left my side, A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, a smile Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour, UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 2(jj The pretty, harmless boy was slain! I saw The corpse, the mangled corpse, and then I cried For vengeance! Rouse, ye Romans! rouse, ye slaves! Have ye brave sons? Look, in the next fierce brawl. To see them die! Have ye fair daughters? Look To see them live, torn from your arms, disdained, Dishonored! and if ye dare call for justice, Be answered by the lash! Yet this is Rome, That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne Of beauty, ruled the world! Yet we are Romans 1 Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman Was greater than a king! — and once again — Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread Of either Brutus! — once again I swear, The eternal city shall be free! her sons Shall walk with princes! M. B. MiTFORD. THE BLACK REGIMENT. ^ARK as the clouds of even. Ranked in the western heaven, Waiting the breath that lifts All the dread mass, and drifts Tempest and falling brand Over a ruined land; — So still and orderly, Arm to arm, knee to knee, Waiting the great event Stands the black regiment. 264 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. Down the long dusky line Teeth gleam and eye-balls shine; And the bright bayonet, Bristling, and firmly set, Flashed with a purpose grand, Long ere the sharp command Of the fierce rolling drum Told them their time had come — Told them what work was sent For the black regiment. "Now," the flag-sergeant cried, "Though death and hell betide, Let the whole nation see If we are fit to be free In this land; or bound Down, like the whining hound, — Bound with red stripes of pain In our cold chains again!" Oh! what a shout there went From the black regiment! "Charge!" Trump and drum awoke; Onward the bondmen broke ; Bayonet and sabre stroke Vainly opposed their rush. Through the wild battle's crush, With but one thought aflush. Driving their lords like chaft", In the guns' mouths they laugh; UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 265 Or at the slippery brands Leaping with open hands, Down they tear man and horse, Down in their awful course ; Trampling with bloody heel Over the crashing steel, — All their eyes forward bent. Rushed the black regiment. • "Freedom!" their battle-cry, — "Freedom! or leave to die!" Ah! and they meant the word. Not as with us 'tis heard, Not a mere party shout; They gave their spirits out; Trusted the end to God And on the gory sod Rolled in triumphant blood. Glad to strike one free blow, Whether for weal or woe; Glad to breathe one free breath Though on the lips of death, Praying — alas! in vain! That they might fall again, So they could once more see That burst to liberty! This was what "freedom" lent To the black regiment. 266 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Hundreds on hundreds fell; But they are resting well; Scourges and shackles strong Never shall do them wrong. Oh, to the living few, Soldiers, be just and true! Hail them as comrades tried; Fight with them side by side; Never in field or tent, Scorn the black regiment. Geo. H. Baker. ONE NIGHT WITH GIN. I'LL take some sugar and gin, if you please; I've a hacking cough perhaps Will ease; Exposed myself yesterday; caught a severe cold, — And something warm — for it's good, I am told. Some say it's injurious; and no doubt it is To men who can't drink and attend to their biz; I have my opinion of men who cannot Drink now and then without being a sot. Wasting their lives, stunting their brains, Binding their families in poverty's chains Seeking a bed in the gutter like swine Forgetting they're human for whisky and wine. But of course you don't sell to that class of men; Don't blame you — correct — there's nothing in them; UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 267 They're a damage to trade; they injure your bar More than their purses contribute, by far. Another glass, if you please; — that's excellent gin. My cough, I think, 's better than when I came in; Import this yourself? From Holland, you say? Like your taste for pure drinks. Here's a V; take your pay. By the Good Templar's I'm annoyed and perplexed, Coaxed to join their society until I am vexed. A piece of absurdity too foreign to think That one can't indulge in a good social drink. Over myself I know I've control, I can sip now and then from the rich flowing bowl, Drink or not drink, do either with ease, — What a pity all men can't do as they please! Have a drink, did you say? Thank you, here's luck, — That's the genuine article — no common truck. When I start, prepare me a flask of that old. For I'm certain it's helping my terrible cold. So fill up the glasses, and now drink with me, I've plenty of money, if you don't believe it, see: Look at these fifties, these twenties, this ten. Here's to you, drink hearty, and — (hie) — fill 'em again. 268 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Stranger — (hie) — I'm getting tired on my feet, So let's fill up and drink — (hie) — , then find a seat, (Hie) — I like your appearanee — (hie) — ean see in your faee That eonfidenee in you is never misplaced. . With your permission I'll — (hie) — rest here a spell, For, mister — (hie) — the fact is I'm not — (hie) — feeling well, Guess you may give me — (hie) — a glass of that best; I think it's first-rate for a cold — (hie) — in the chest. Heavy eyes, heavy heart, thirsty and mad; The gin is all gone, the head's feeling bad; The tongue's dry and parched; he calls for a drink To waken his wits and to help him to think. Then looks for his friend, the one of last night. So winning and pleasant, so kind and polite; But he's gone and a rough-looking man in his place, With a dark, evil eye, and a coarse-bearded face. He's told that his ''friend,'' so genial and witty, Receiving a dispatch, has just left the city, The wretched young man then feels for his purse, Only to ejaculate ''Gone I'' with a curse. He appeals to the bar, charges robbery, theft. Calls for the man, he's informed has just left. Then gently reminded they do not permit Their establishment cursed in a mad drunken fit; UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 269 That he never lost money, had none to lose, — Himself a thief, vagabond, thus to abuse A respectable house, where gentlemen come To socially quaff their ale, gin, and rum. Then rudely cast in the cold, open street, Moneyless, hungry, nothing to eat — No food for thought, but reflection of shame, And a head half-crazed with a sobering pain. THE MISEE'S WILL. n^HIS tale is true, for so the records show; J^ 'Twas in Germany, not many years ago: Young Erfurth loved. But ere the wedding-day His dearest friend stole with his bride away. The woman false that he had deemed so true, The friend he trusted but an ingrate, too. What wonder that his love to hatred grown, His heart should seem to all mankind a stone? All kindred ties he broke, himself he banned, And sought a solitude in a stranger land., Grief finds relief in something found to do, The mind must find some object to pursue; And so, ere long, his being was controlled By sole, debasing, longing greed for gold. How soon his little multiplied to much! His hand seemed gifted with a Midas touch; Yet still he kept himself unto himself. None seeing but for increase of his pelf. 270 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Death came at last; discovering ere he died, His heart had yet one spot unpetrified; For, on his bed, his hand upon it still. There, open, lay the poor old miser's will. The will was read; there to his brothers three He left to each a thousand marks; and he. The friend who caused him all his grief and shame, Was, with his free forgiveness, left the same; But none of these to whom such wealth he gave Should follow his remains unto the grave. On pain oi forfeit. 'Neath his pillow pressed Was found a letter, sealed, and thus addressed: "To my dear native city of Berlin." The brothers heard, and thought it was no sin To stay away; besides, his absence long Had quenched the love not ever over-strong. What did the faithless friend? He knelt in tears, Looked back in angush o'er the vanished years. Saw once again their happy boyhood's time, Their manhood's friendship, his repented crime. "Oh, my wronged Erfurth, now in death so cold, I've your forgiveness, care I for your gold?" And, at the funeral, striving to atone, The single mourner there, he walked alone. The letter, opened at the Mayor's will, Was found to hold the miser's codicil, Wherein he gave his hoarded gold and lands To him that disobeyed the will's commands, UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 271 Should such there be — whose heart knew love or pity— Or, failing, all went to his native city. And so the friend who stole his bride away; Who turned to night his joyous morn of day, Humbly repentant, when his victim died. Received his pardon and his wealth beside. SAMPLE-EOOMS. C^AMPLES of wine, and samples of beer, ^-^^Samples of all kinds of liquor sold here; Samples of whiskey, samples of gin. Samples of all kinds of bitters. Step in. Samples of ale, and porter, and brandy; Samples as large as you please, and quite handy; Our samples are pure, and also you'll find Our customers always genteel and refined; For gentlemen know when they've taken enough. And never partake of the common stuff. Besides these samples within, you know, There are samples without of what they can do; Samples of headache, samples of gout; Samples of coats with the elbows out; Samples of boots without heels or toes; Samples of men with a broken nose, Samples of men in the gutter lying, Samples of men with delirium dying, Samples of men carousing and swearing, 272 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. Samples of men all evil daring; Samples of lonely, tired men, Who long in vain for their freedom again; Samples of old men worn in the strife, Samples of young men tired of life; Samples of ruined hopes and lives, Samples of desolate homes and wives; Samples of aching hearts, grown cold With anguish and misery untold; Samples of noble youth in disgrace. Who meet you with averted face; Samples of hungry little ones. Starving to death in their dreary homes. In fact, there is scarcely a woe on earth But these "samples" have nurtured or given birth! Oh! all ye helpers to sorrow and crime, Who deal out death for a single dime, Know ye that the Lord, though he may delay, Has in reserve for the last great day The terrible "woe," of whose solemn weight No mortal can know till the pearly gate Is closed, and all with one accord Acknowledge the justice of their reward. THE BEAVE AT HOME. r[7HE maid who binds her warrior's sash, I With smile that well her pain dissembles, The while beneath her drooping lash UXCLE HEBBERTS SPEAKER. 273 One 5tarr\- tear-drop hangs and trenib'es, Though Heaven alone records the rear. And fame shall never know the story, Her heart has shed a drop as dear As e'er bedew'd the field of glor}\ The wife who girds her husband's sword, Mid little ones who weep or wonder. And bravely speaks the cheering word, What though her heart be rent asunder, Doom'd nightly in her dreams to hear The bolts of death around him rattle, Hath shed as sacred blood as e'er Was pour'd upon a field of battle! The mother who conceals her grief. While to her breast her son she presses. Then breathes a few brave words and brief, Kissing the patriot brow she blesses. With no one but her secret God To know the pain that weighs upon her, Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod Received on Freedom's field of honor. T. B. Read. THE CUIMBEELAND. 71 T anchor in Hampton Roads we lay. ^^On board of the Cumberland sloop-of-war; And at times from the fortress across the bay ^74 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. The alarum of drums swept past, Or a bugle-blast From the camp on the shore. Then, far away to the South, uprose A little feather of snow-white smoke, And we knew that the iron ship of our foes Was steadily steering its course To try the force Of our ribs of oak. Down upon us heavily runs, Silent and sullen, the floating fort; Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns, And leaps the terrible death. With fiery breath. From each open port. We are not idle, but send her straight Defiance back in full broadside! As hail rebounds from a roof of slate, Rebounds our heavier hail From each iron scale Of the monster's hide. "Strike your flag!" the Rebel cries. In his arrogant old plantation strain. "Never!" our gallant Morris replies; "It is better to sink than to yield!" And the whole air pealed With the cheers of our men. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 275 Then, like a kraken huge and black, She crushed our ribs in her iron grasp! Down went the Cumberland all a wrack, With a sudden shudder of death, And the cannon's breath For her dying gasp. Next morn as the sun rose over the bay, Still floated our flag at the main mast-head, Lord, how beautiful was Thy day! Every waft of the air Was a whisper of prayer, Or a dirge for the dead. Ho! brave hearts that went down in the seas! Ye are at peace in the troubled stream. Ho! brave land! with hearts like these, Thy flag, that is rent in twain, Shall be one again, And without a seam! Longfellow. BILL AND I. n7HE moon had just gone down, sir, [ But the stars lit up the sky; All was still in tent and town, sir, Not a foeman could we spy. It was our turn at picket. So we marched into the thicket, To the music of the cricket Chirping nigh. 276 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. Oh, we kept a sharp lookout, sir, But no danger could we spy, And no foeman being about, sir, We sat down there, by-and-by; And we watched to brook a-brawlin', And counted the stars a-faUin*, Old memories overhaulin', Bill and I. And says he, "Won't it be glorious When we throw our muskets by. And home again, victorious, — We hear our sweethearts cry, 'Welcome back!' " A step! Who goes there? A shot — by heaven, the foe's there! Bill sat there, all composure, But not I. By the red light of his gun, sir, I marked the enemy: In an instant it was done, sir — I had fired and heard a cry. I sprang across a stream, sir — Oh, it seems just like a dream, sir, The dizzy, dying gleam, sir. Of that eye! A youth, a very boy, sir, I saw before me lie; Some pretty school-girl's toy, sir, Had ventured here to die. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 277 We had hated one another, But I heard him murmur, ''Mother!'' So I stooped and whispered, ''Brother!' No reply. crossed the stream once more, sir. To see why Bill warn't by; He was sittin' as before, sir. But a film was o'er his eye. I scarce knew what it meant, sir. Till a wail broke from our tent, sir. As into camp we went, sir, Bill and L G. H. Miles. A HOUSEKEEPER'S TRAGEDY. /QjNE day, as I wandered, I heard a complaining, ^ And saw a poor woman, the picture of gloom; She glared at the mud on her doorsteps ('twas raining), And this was her wail as she wielded the broom: "Oh, life is a toil, and love is a trouble. And beauty will fade, and riches will flee; And pleasures they dwindle, and prices they double, And nothing is what I could wish it to be. "There's too much of worriment goes to a bonnet; There's too much of ironing goes to a shirt; There's nothing that pays for the time you waste on it; There's nothing that lasts but trouble and dirt. 278 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. "In March it is mud; it is slush in December; The midsummer breezes are loaded with dust; In fall, the leaves litter; in muggy September, The wall-paper rots, and the candlesticks rust. "There are worms in the cherries, and slugs in the roses, And ants in the sugar, and mice in the pies; The rubbish of spiders no mortal supposes. And ravaging roaches and damaging flies. "It's sweeping at six, and dusting at seven; It's victuals at eight, and dishes at nine; It's potting and panning from ten to eleven ; We scarce break our fast ere we plan how to dine. "With grease and with grime, from corner to center, Forever at war, and forever alert. No rest for a day, lest the enemy enter — I spend my whole life in a struggle with dirt. "Last night, in my dreams, I was stationed forever On a bare little isle in the midst of the sea; My one chance of life was a ceaseless endeavor To sweep off the waves ere they swept over me. "Alas, 'twas no dream! Again I behold it! . I yield; I am helpless my fate to avert!" She rolled down her sleeves, her apron she folded, Then laid down and died, and was buried in dirt. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER, 279 MILL BIVER EIDE. OjVER the hills through the valley away, ^Spreading confusion and dreadful dismay, Spurring his horse to his uttermost speed, Halting a moment and changing his steed — Crying aloud in a voice of command: "Run! run! for your lives, high up on the land! Away, men and children! up, quick, and be gone! The water's broke loose; it is chasing me on!" Away down the river like a spirit he runs. While the roar of the torrent, like the roaring of guns, Wakes the air with the echo of trembling might, Till the flood from the reservoir rushes in sight. Bear away! bear away in confusion and haste — What of value remains will be swallowed in waste; The torrent rolls onward in terrible force, Dealing death and destruction to all in its course! But bold Collins Graves has reached Williamsburg hills. Spreading terror and fright throughout all the mills; While the flood follows faster, increasing its speed. New horsemen set forth on lightning-limbed steed. In the valley of death, swept away like a flower, Six scores of brave workmen destroyed in an hour! With the rough, rugged rubbish that swept down the river, 'Mid groanings for help, they have perished forever! 280 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. O God! what a sight for mortals to see! Whole households engulfed in the stream like a tree! The day breaks in terror — in sorrow it ends, For hundreds bewail the sad loss of their friends. All night, through the darkness, loud groans may be heard, Yet hundreds are dumb, who can utter no word! The flood has gone down, and the ruins along The course of the rapids have passed into song. Of all that gave aid, or that battled those waves. No name will shine brighter than bold Collins Graves 'Twas he that first rose at the sound of alarm. And rode through the valley, foretelling of harm — Forgetting his danger, in haste to do right; Let us honor the gateman, and keep his name bright. J. W. Donovan. THE NEW CHURCH-OEGAN. n^HEY'VE got a bran new organ. Sue, J^ Fof all their fuss and search; They've done just as they said they'd do, And fetched it into church. They're bound the critter shall be seen, And on the preacher's right They've hoisted up their new machine, In everybody's sight. They've got a chorister and choir, Ag'in my voice and vote; UN CLE BERBER T S SPEA KER. 281 For it was never my desire To praise the Lord by note! I've been a sister good and true, For five an' thirty year; I've done what seemed my part to do, And prayed my duty clear; I've sung the hymns both slow and quick, Just as the preacher read; And twice, when Deacon Tubbs was sick, I took the fork an' led ! An' now their bold,- new-fangled ways Is comin' all about; And I, right in my latter days. Am fairly crowded out! To-day the preacher, good old dear. With tears all in his eyes, Read — "I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies. " I al'ays liked that blessed hymn — I s'pose I al'ays will; It somehow gratifies my whim. In good old Ortonville; But when that choir got up to sing, I couldn't catch a word; They sung the most dog-gondest thing A body ever heard! Some worldly chaps was standin' near, An' when I see them grin, '282 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER, I bid farewell to every fear, And boldly waded in. I thought I'd chase the tune along, An' tried with all my might; But, though my voice is good an' strong, I couldn't steer it right. When they was high, then I was low. An' also contra'wise; And I too fast, or they too slow, To "mansions in the skies." An' after every verse, you know, They played a little tune; I didn't understand, and so I started in too soon. I pitched it pnrty middlin' high, And fetched a lusty tone; But oh, alas! I found that I Was singin' there alone! They laughed a little, I am told; But I had done my best; And not a wave of trouble rolled Across my peaceful breast. And Sister Brown — I could but look, She sits right front of me — She never was no singin'-book, An' never went to be; But then she al'ays tried to do UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 283 The best she could, she said; She understood the time right through, An' kep' it with her head; An' when she tried this mornin'. O, I had to laugh, or cough! It kep' her head a bobbin' so, It e'n a'most come off! An' Deacon Tubbs, he all broke down, As one might well suppose; He took one look at Sister Brown, And meekly scratched his nose. He looked his hymn-book through and through, And laid it on the seat, And then a pensive sigh he drew. And looked completely beat. An' when they took another bout. He didn't even rise; Butdrawed his red bandanner out. An' wiped his weeping eyes. Pve been a sister, good an' true, For five an' thirty year; I've done what seemed my part to do, An' prayed by duty clear; But death will stop my voice, I know, For he is on my track; And some day I'll to meetin' go. And nevermore come back. 284 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. And when the folks get up to sing — Whene'er that time shall be, I do not want no patent thing A squealin' over me! Will M. Carleton. THE FAITHFUL LOVEES. IjD been away from her three years — about that And I returned to find my Mary true; And though I'd question her, I do not doubt that It was unnecessary so to do. 'Twas by the chimney corner we were sitting: "Mary," said I, "have you been always true?" "Frankly," says she, — ^just pausing in her knitting — "I don't think I've unfaithful been to you; But for the three years past I'll tell you what I've done: then say if I've been true or not. "When first you left, my grief was uncontrollable, Alone I mourned my miserable lot, And all who saw me thought me inconsolable, Till Captain Clifford come from Aldershott; To flirt with him amused me while 'twas new; I don't count that unfaithfulness. Do you? "The next — oh! let me see — was Frankie Phipps, I met him at my uncle's Christmas-tide; And 'neath the mistletoe, where lips meet lips, He gave me his first kiss" — and here she sighed; UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 285 "We stayed six weeks at uncle's — how time flew! I don't count that unfaithfulness. Do you? "Lord Cecil Fossmore, only twenty-one, Lent me his horse. Oh, how we rode and raced! We scoured the downs — we rode to hounds — such fun! And often was his arm around my waist — That was to lift me up or down. But who Would count that unfaithfulness? Do you? "Do you know Reggy Vere? Ah, how he sings! We met — 'twas at a picnic. Ah, such weather! He gave me, look, the first of these two rings. When we were lost in Cliefden woods together. Ah, what happy times we spent, we two! I don't count that unfaithfulness to you. "I've got another ring from him. D'you see The plain gold circle that is shining here?" I took her hand: "Oh, Mary!. can it be That you" — quoth she, "that I am Mrs. Vere. I don't count that unfaithfulness? Do you?" "No," I replied, "for I AM married, too." DEE BABY. O O help me gracious, efery day ^-^I laugh me wild to see der vay My small young baby drie to play — Dot funny leetle baby. 286 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. Vhen I look on dhem leetle toes, Und saw dot funny leetle nose, Und heard der vay dot rooster crows, I schmile like I was grazy. Und when I heard der real nice vay Dhem beoples to my wife dhey say, " More like his fater every day," I vas so proud like blazes. Sometimes dhere comes a leetle schquall, Dot's vhen der vindy vind vill crawl Righd in its leetle schtomach schmall, — Dot's too bad for der baby Dot makes him sing at night so schveet, Und gorrybarric he must eat, Und I must chumb shbry on my feet, To help dot leetle baby. He bulls my nose and kicks my hair, Und grawls me ofer everywhere, Und shlobbers me — but vat I care ? Dot vas my schmall young baby. Around my neck dot leetle arm Vas sqveezing me so nice und varm ; Mine Gott ! may never come some harm To dot schmall leetle baby. THE CHINESE EXCELSIOR. rnHAT nightee teem he come chop-chop _[ One young man walkee, no can stop ; UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER.. 28" Maskee snow, maskee ice ; He colly flag wit'h chop so nice — Top-side Galah ! He muchee solly : one piecee eye Lookee sharp — so fashion — my ; He talkee large, he talkee stlong, Too muchee culio ; allee same gong. — Top-side Galah ! Insidee house he can see light, And evly loom got fire all light, He lookee plenty ice more high, Insidee mout'h he plenty cly — Top-side Galah ! Ole man talkee, " No can walk, Bimeby lain come, velly dark ; Have got water, velly wide ! " Maskee, my must go top-side, — Top-side Galah ! " Man-man " one girlee talkee he : " What for you go top-side look — see ? '* And one teem more he plenty cly. But allee teem walk plenty high — Top-side Galah ! " Take care t'hat spilum tlee, young man. Take care t'hat ice, must go man-man." One coolie chin-chin he good night ; He talkee, " My can go all light " — Top-side Galah ! 288 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER, T'hat young man die : one large dog see Too muchee bobbly findee he, He hand b'long coldee, all same like ice, He holdee flag, wit'h chop so nice — Top-side Galah ! THE DYING CONFESSION OF PADDY M'OABE. ^)ADDY McCabe was dying one day, S And Father Molloy he came to confess him, Paddy prayed hard he would make no delay. But forgive him his sins and make haste for to bless him. ** First tell me your sins/' says Father Molloy, " For Fm thinking you've not been a very good boy." " Oh," says Paddy, " so late in the evenin' I fear 'Twould trouble you such a long story to hear. For you've ten long miles o'er the mountain to go, While the road I^ve to travel 's much longer, you know : So give us your blessin' and get in the saddle ; To tell all my sins my poor brain would addle ; And the docthor gave orthers to keep me so quiet — 'Twould disturb me to tell all my sins, if Fd thry it — And your Reverence has towld us unless we tell all 'Tis worse than not makin' confession at all : So FU say, in a word, Fm no very good boy, And therefore your blessin', sweet Father Molloy. " UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 289 " Well, I'll read from a book," says Father MoUoy, " The manifold sins that humanity 's heir to ; And when you hear those that your conscience annoy, You'll just squeeze my hand, as acknowledging thereto." Then the Father began the dark roll of iniquity, And Paddy, thereat, felt his conscience grow rickety, And he gave such a squeeze that the priest gave a roar — " Oh, murther," says Paddy, " don't read any more ; For if you keep readin', by all that is thrue, Your Reverence's fist will be soon black and blue ; Besides, to be troubled my conscience begins, That your Reverence should have any hand in 7/ij sins. So you'd better suppose I committed them all — For whether they're great ones, or whether they're small. Or if they're a dozen, or if they're four-score, 'Tis your Reverence knows how to absolve them, asthore : So ril say, in a word, Fm no very good boy, And therefore, your blessin', sweet Father MoUoy. " Well," says Father Molloy, " your sins I forgive, So yoii must forgive all your enemies truly, And promise me also that, if you should live, You'll leave off your old tricks, and begin to live newly. " 290 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. I forgive ev'rybody," says Pat, with a groan, " Except that big vagabone, Micky Malone ; And him I will murdher if ever I can — " " Tut, tut ! " says the priest, " you're a very bad man ; For without your forgiveness, and also repentance, You'll ne'er go to heaven, and that is my sentence." " Pooh ! " says Paddy McCabe, " that's a very hard case. With your Reverence and heaven I'm content to make pace ; But with heaven and your Reverence I wonder — ock /zone, You would think of comparin' that blackguard, Malone. But since I'm hard pressed and that I must forgive, I forgive — if I die ; but as sure as I live That ugly blackguard I will surely desthroy ! — So fW7V for your blessin', sweet Father Molloy ! " Samuel Lover. SONG OP THE CAMP. ik/^IVE us a song!" the soldiers cried, ^^The outer trenches guarding, When the heated guns of the camps alUed Grew weary of bombarding. The dark Redan, in silent scoff, Lay grim and threatening under ; And the tawny mound of the Malakoff No longer belched its thunder. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 291 There was a pause. A guardsman said : "We storm the forts to-morrow ; Sing while we may, another day Will bring enough of sorrow." They lay along the battery's side, Below the smoking cannon : Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde, And from the banks of Shannon. They sang of love, and not of fame ; Forgot was Britain's glory : Each heart recalled a different name. But all sang "Annie Laurie," Voice after voice caught up the song, Until its tender passion Rose like an anthem, rich and strong, — Their battle-eve confession. Dear girl, her name he dared not speak. But as the song grew louder. Something upon the soldier's cheek Washed off the stains of powder. Beyond the darkening ocean burned The bloody sunset's embers. While the Crimean valleys learned How English love remembers. And once again a fire of hell Rained on the Russian quarters, 292 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. With scream of shot, and burst of shell, And bellowing of the mortars. And Irish Norah's eyes are dim For a singer dumb and gory ; And English Mary mourns for him Who sang of "Annie Laurie. " Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest Your truth and valor wearing ; The bravest are the tenderest — The loving are the daring. Bayard Taylor. DOT BABY OFF MINE. Tyr INE Gracious! Mine cracious! shust look here (s) und see A Deutscher so habby as habby can pe. Der beoples all dink dat no prains I haf got, Vas grazy mit trinking, or someding like dot ; Id vasn't pecause I trinks lager und vine, Id vas all on aggount off dot baby off mine. Dot schmall leedle vellow I dells you vas qveer ; Not mooch pigger roundt as a goot glass off beer, Mit a bare-footed hed, and nose but a schpeck, A mout dot goes most to der pack off his neck, Und his leedle pink toes mit der rest all combine. To gife sooch a charm to dot baby off mine. I dells you dot baby vas von off der poys, Und beats leedle Yawcop for making a noise ; UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 293 He shusts has pecun to shbeak goot English, too, Says " mama," und "bapa," und somedimes "ah — goo!" You don't find a baby den dimes out off nine Dot vos qvite so schmart as dot baby off mine. He grawls der vloor ofer, und drows dings aboudt, Und poots efryding he can find in his mout ; He dumbles der shtairs down, and falls vrom his chair, Und gifes mine Katrina von derrible sckare ; Mine hair shtands like shquills on a mat borcubine Ven I dinks off dose pranks off dot baby off mme. Dere vos someding, you pet, I don'd likes pooty veil; To hear in der nighdt-dimes dot young Deutscher yell, Und dravel der ped room midout many clo'es Vhile der chills down der shpine off mine back quickly goes ; Dose leedle shimnasdic dricks vasn't so fine. Dot I cuts oop at nighdt mit dot baby off mine. Veil, deese leedle schafers vas goin' to pe men, Und all off dess droubles vill peen ofer den ; Dey vill vare a vhite shirt vront inshted off a bib, Und vouldn't got tucked oop at nighds in deir crib — Veil! Veil! ven I'm feeple und in life's decline, May mine oldt age pe cheered py dot baby off mine. Charles F. Adams. 294 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. THE MANIAC. OTAY, jailer, stay, and hear my woe ! ^^ She is not mad who kneels to thee ; For what I'm now too well I know, And what I was, and what I should be. I'll rave no more in proud despair ; My language shall be mild, though sad ; But yet I firmly, truly swear, / am not mady I am not mad / My tyrant husband forged the tale Which chains me in this dismal cell ; My fate unknown my friends bewail, — jailer, haste that fate to tell ! Oh, haste my father's heart to cheer ! His heart at once 'twill grieve and glad To know, though kept a captive here, 1 am not mad, I am not mad ! He smiles in scorn, and turns the key ; He quits the grate ; I knelt in vain ; His glimmering lamp still, still I see, — ^ 'Tis gone ! and all is gloom again. Cold, bitter cold ! — No warmth ! no light. Life, all thy comforts once I had ; Yet here I'm chained this freezing night, Although not mad ! no, no, — not mad ! Tis sure some dream, some vision vain, What ! /, the child of rank and wealth,— UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 295 Am /the wretch who clanks this chain, Bereft of freedom, friends and health ? Ah ! while I dwell on blessings fled, Which nevermore my heart must glad, How aches my heart, how burns my head ; But 'tis not mad ; no, 'tis not mad ! Hast thou, my child, forgot, ere this, A mother's face, a mother's tongue ? She'll ne'er forget your parting kiss. Nor round her neck how fast you clung ; Nor how with her you sued to stay ; Nor how that suit your sire forbade ; Nor how — I'll drive such thoughts away ; They'll make me mad ; they'll make me mad I His rosy lips, how sweet they smiled ! His mild blue eyes, how bright they shone ! None ever bore a lovelier child. And art thou now forever gone ? And must I never see thee more, My pretty, pretty, pretty lad ? I will be free ! unbar the door ! I am not mad ; I am not mad ! O, hark ! what mean those yells and cries ? His chain some furious madman breaks ; He comes, — I see his glaring eyes ; Now, now, my dungeon-grate he shakes. Help! Help! — He's gone I — Oh, fearful woe, Such screams to hear, such sights to see ! 296 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. My brain, my brain, — I know, I know /am not mad, but soon s/iall be. Yes, soon ; — for, lo you ! — while I speak, — Mark how yon demon's eyeballs glare ! He sees me ; now, with dreadful shriek, He whirls a serpent high in air. Horror ! — the reptile strikes his tooth Deep in my heart, so crushed and sad ; Ay, laugh, ye fiends ; — I feel the truth ; Your task is done, — I'M MAD ! I'm mad ! M. G. Lewis. TOM. yES, Tom's the best fellow that ever you knew. Just listen to this : When old mill took fire and the flooring fell througn And I with it, helpless, there, full in my view, What do you think my eyes saw through the fire, That crept along, crept along, nigher and nigher. But Robin, my baby-boy, laughing to see The shining ! He must have come there after me, Toddled alone from the cottage without Anyone's missing him. Then, what a shout — Oh, how I shouted, " For heaven's sake men, Save little Robin ! " Again and again They tried, but the fire held them back like a wall. I could hear them go at it, and at it, and call, " Never mind, baby, sit still like a man, UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 297 We're coming to get you as fast as we can." They could not see him, but I could ; he sat Still on the beam, his little straw hat Carefully placed by his side, and his eyes Stared at the flame with a baby's surprise, Calm and unconscious as nearer it crept. The roar of the fire up above must have kept The sound of his mother's voice shrieking his name From reaching the child. But /heard it. It came Again and again — O God, what a cry ! The axes went faster, I saw the sparks fly Where the men worked like tigers, nor minded the heat That scorched them — when, suddenly, there at their feet The great beems leaned in — they saw him — then, crash, Down came the wall ! The men made a dash — Jumped to get out of the way — and I thought ** All's up with poor Robin," and brought Slowly the arm that was least hurt to hide The sight of the child there, when swift, at my side, Some one rushed by, and went right through the flame Straight as a dart — caught the child — and then came Back with him — choking and crying, but — saved ! Saved safe and sound ! Oh, how the men raved, Shouted, and cried, and hurrahed ! Then they all 298 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. Rushed at the work again, lest the back wall Where I was lying, away from the fire Should fall in and bury me. Oh, you'd admire To see Robin now ; he's as bright as a dime, Deep in some mischief, too, most of the time ; Tom it was, saved him. Now isn't it true, Tom's the best fellow that ever you knew ? There's Robin now — see, he's strong as a log — And there comes Tom too — Yes, Tom was our dog. Constance F. Woolson. SOLILOQUY OF KING RICHARD III r^lYK me another horse — bind up my wounds — ^^Have mercy, Jesu! — soft: I did but dream. coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold, fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do \ fear? Myself! there's none else by. Richard loves Richard: that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here! No: yes, I am. Then fly. What! From myself? Great reason why? Lest I revenge. What? Myself on myself? 1 love myself. Wherefore? For any good That I myself have done unto myself? Oh, no: alas! I rather Jiate myself, For hateful deeds committed by myself, VNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER.. 299 I am a villain: yet I /le: I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well — fool, do not flatter — My conscience hath a thousand several tongues* And every tongue brings in a several tale; And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury in the highest degree; Murder, stern murder in the direst degree, All several sins, all used in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, guilty! guilty! I shall despair. There is no creature loves me. And, if I die, no soul ^n\S\. pity me ; Nay; wherefore should they; since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself? — Methought the souls of all that I had murdered Came to my tent, and every one did threat To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. Shakspeare. A GEORGIA VOLUNTEER. OAR up the lonely mountain side My wandering footsteps led. The moss lay thick beneath my feet, The pine sighed overhead; The trace of a dismantled fort Lay in the forest nave, And in the shadow near my path I saw a soldier's grave. The bramble wrestled with the weed Upon the lowly mound; 300 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. The simple headboard, rudely writ, Had rotted to the ground. I raised it with a reverent hand, From dust its words to clear, But time had blotted all but these: "A Georgia Volunteer." I heard the Shenandoah roll Along the vale below, I saw the Alleghanies rise Toward the realms of snow ; The valley campaign rose to mind, Its leader's name, and then I knew the sleeper had been one Of Stonewall Jackson's men. He sleeps; what need to question now If he were wrong or right? He knows ere this whose cause is just In God the Father's sight; He wields no warlike weapons now, Returns no foeman's thrust; Who but a coward would revile An honored soldier's dust? Roll, Shenandoah, proudly roll Adown thy rocky glen. Above thee lies the grave of one Of Stonewall Jackson's men. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 301 Beneath the cedar and the pine In solitude austere, Unknown, unnamed, forgotten lies A Georgia volunteer. CIVIL WAR. ^.t^IFLEMAN, shoot me a fancy shot V Straight at the heart of yon prowling vidette; Ring me a ball in the glittering spot That shines on his breast like an amulet!" "Ah, Captain! here goes for a fine-drawn bead There's music around when my barrel 's in tune!" Crack! went the rifle, the messenger sped, And dead from his horse fell the ringing dragoon. "Now, Rifleman, steal through the bushes, and snatch From your victim some trinket to handsel first blood — A button, a loop, or that luminous patch That gleams in the moon like a diamond stud." "O Captain! I staggered, and sunk on my track, When I gazed on the face of that fallen vidette; For he looked so like you as he lay on his back, That my heart rose upon me, and masters me yet. "But I snatched off the trinket — this locket of gold; An inch from the centre my lead broke its way, Scarce glazing the picture, so fair to behold, Of a beautiful lady in bridal array.'' 302 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. "Ha! Rifleman, fling me the locket! — 't she, My brother's young bride, and the fallen dragoon Was her husband — Hush! soldier, 'twas Heaven's decree ; We must bury him here, by the light of the moon! "But, hark! the far bugles their warnings unite; War is a virtue — weakness a sin; There 's lurking and loping around us to-night; Load again, Rifleman, keep your hand in!" CD. Shanly SHERIDAN'S RIDE. (^rP from the South at break of day ^^Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay. The affrighted air with a shudder bore, Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar, Telling the battle was on once more, And Sheridan twenty miles away. ] And wider still those billows of war Thundered along the horizon's bar; And louder yet into Winchester rolled The roar of that red sea uncontrolled. Making the blood of the listener cold. As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray. And Sheridan twenty miles away. But there is a road from Winchester town, A good, broad highway leading down; UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 303 And there through the flush of the morning light, A steed as black as the steeds of night Was seen to pass, as with eagle flight As if he knew the terrible need, He stretched away with his utmost speed; Hills rose and fell; but his heart was gay, With Sheridan fifteen miles away. Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth, Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster. The heart of the steed and the heart of the master Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, Impatient to be where the battlefield calls; Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, With Sheridan only ten miles away. Under his spurning feet, the road Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed. And the landscape sped away behind Like an ocean flying before the wind. And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire, Swept on, with his wild eye full of fire. But lol he is nearing his heart's desire; He is snufiing the smoke of the roaring fray, With Sheridan only five miles away. The first that the General saw were the groups Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops; 304 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. What was done, — what to do, — a glance told him both. And striking his spurs,, with a terrible oath, He dashed down the line, 'mid a storm of huzzas, And the wave of retreat checked its course there because The sight of the master compelled it to pause. With foam and with dust the black charger was gray; By the flash of his eye, and his red nostril's play, He seemed to the whole great army to say, " I have brought you Sheridan all the way From Winchester down to save the day. " Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan ! Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man! And when their statues are placed on high, Under the dome of the Union sky, — The American soldiers' Temple of Fame, — There with the glorious General's name Be it said in letters both bold and bright : " Here is the steed that saved the day By carrying Sheridan into the fight. From Winchester, — twenty miles away!" T. B. Read. THE BURNING PRAIRIE. n^HE prairie stretched as smooth as a floor, I As far as the eye could see, And the settler sat at his cabin door, UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 305 With his little girl on his knee ; Striving her letters to repeat, And pulling her apron over her feet. His face was wrinkled but not old, For he bore an upright form. And his shirt sleeves back to the elbow rolled, They showed a brawny arm; And near in the grass with toes upturned. Was a pair of old shoes, cracked and burned. A dog with his head betwixt his paws. Lay lazily dozing near. Now and then snapping his tar black jaws At the fly that buzzed in his ear; And near was the cow-pen, made of rails, And a bench that held two milking-pails. In the open door an ox-yoke lay, The mother's odd redoubt. To keep the little one, at her play On the floor, from falling out; While she swept the hearth with a turkey wing. And filled her tea-kettle at the spring, The little girl on her father's knee, With eyes so bright and blue. From A, B, C, to X, Y, Z, Had said her lesson through, When a wind came over the prairie land, And caught the primer out of her hand. 306 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. The watch-dog whined, the cattle lowed And tossed their horns about; The air grew gray as if it snowed; " There will be a storm, no doubt." So to himself the settler said. " But, father, why is the sky so red? '* The little girl slid off his knee, And all of a tremble stood; " Good wife," he cried, " come out and see, The skies are as red as blood. " " God save us! " cried the settler's wife, " The prairie's a-fire; we must run for life! " She caught the baby up; " Come, come, Are ye mad? to your heels, my man." He followed, terror-stricken, dumb; And so they ran and ran. Close upon them was the snort and swing Of buffaloes madly galloping. The wild wind, like a sower, sows The ground with sparkles red; And the flapping wings of the bats and crows, And the ashes overhead, And the bellowing deer, and the hissing snake, What a swirl of terrible sounds they make. No gleam of the river water yet, And the flames leap on and on; A crash, and a fiercer whirl and jet, UNCLE HEIIBERT'S SPEAKER. 307 And the settler's house is gone. The air grows hot; " This fluttering curl Would burn like flax," said the little girl. And as the smoke against her drifts, And the lizard slips close by her, She tells how the little cow uplifts Her speckled face from the fire; For she cannot be hindered from looking back At the fiery dragon on their track. They hear the crackling grass and sedge. The flames as they whir and rave; On, on! they are close to the water's edge — They ar^ breast deep in the wave: And lifting their little one high o'er the tide, We are saved, thank God, we are saved! they cried. Alice Carey. THE SEMINOLE'S REPLY. lOLAZE, with your serried columns! J^ I will not bend the knee! The shackles ne'er again shall bind The arm which now is free. I've mailed it with the thunder, When the tempest muttered low; And where it falls, ye well may dread The lightning of his blow! 308 UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. I've scared ye in the city, I've scalped ye on the plain; Go, count your chosen where they fell Beneath my leaden rain! I scorn your proffered treaty! The pale-face I defy! Revenge is stamped upon my spear, And blood my battle-cry! Some strike for hope of booty, Some to defend their all, — I battle for the joy I have To see the white man fall! I love, among the wounded. To hear his dying moan. And catch, while chanting at his side, The music of his groan. Ye've trailed me through the forest, Ye've tracked me o'er the stream; And struggling through the everglade Your bristling bayonets gleam; But I stand as should the warrior. With his rifle and his spear; The scalp of vengeance still is red, And warns ye — Come not here! I loathe ye in my bosom, I scorn ye with mine eye; And I'll taunt ye with my latest breath, And fight ye till I die! UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 309 I ne'er will ask ye quarter, And I ne'er will be your slave; But I'll swim the sea of slaughter Till I sink beneath its wave. Patten. THE MAIN TRUCK, OR A LEAP FOR LIFE. /T\LD Ironsides at anchor lay, ^ In the harbor of Mahon ; A dead calm rested on the bay, — The waves to sleep had gone ; When little Hal the Captain's son, A lad both brave and good, In sport, up shroud and rigging ran, And on the main truck stood ! A shudder shot through every vain, — All eyes were turned on high ! There stood the boy, with dizzy brain, Between the sea and sky. No hold had he above, below : Alone he stood in air : To that fair height none dared to go, — No aid could reach him there. We gazed, but not a man could speak,— With horror all aghast, — In groups, with pallid brow and cheek, We watched the quivering mast. 310 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. The atmosphere grew thick and hot, And of a lurid hue ; — As riveted unto the spot, Stood officers and crew. The father came on deck : — he gasped, " Oh, God ; thy will be done ! " Then suddenly a rifle grasped, And aimed it at his son. ** Jump, far out, boy, into the wave, Jump, or I fire ! " he said ; " That only chance your life can save ; Jump, jump, boy ! " He obeyed. He sunk, — he rose, — he lived, — he moved, — And for the ship struck out. On board we hailed the lad beloved. With many a manly shout. His father drew, in silent joy. Those wet arms around his neck. And folded to his heart his boy, — Then fainted on the deck. COLTON. SHYLOCK TO ANTONIO. O IGNOR Antonio, many a time and oft ^-^In the Rialto you have rated me About my moneys and my usances ; Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe ; You call me, — misbeliever, cut-throat, dog. UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 311 And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own. Well, then, it now appears, you need my help; Go to, then ; you come to me, and you say, SJiylock, we would have moneys ; you say so ; You that did void your rheum upon my beard, And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur Over your threshold ; moneys is your suit. What should I say to you? Should I not say, Has a dog money? is it possible A cur can lend three thousand ducats? or Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key. With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness, Say this ? Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last : You spur7ied me such a day ; another time You called me — dog; and for these courtesies I'll lend you thus much moneys. Shakspeare. THE GLADIATOR. n^HEY led a lion from his den, I The lord of Afric's sun-scorched plain ; And there he stood, stern foe of men. And shook his flowing mane. There's not of all Rome's heroes ten That dare abide this game. His bright eye nought of lightning lacked ; His voice was like the cataract. 312 UNCLE HERBi^RTS SPEAKER. They brought a dark-haired man along, Whose Hmbs with gyves of brass were bound ; Youthful he seemed, and bold, and strong. And yet unscathed of wound. Blithely he stepped among the throng, And carelessly threw around A dark eye, such as courts the path Of him who braves a Dacian's wrath. Then shouted the plebeian crowd, — Rung the glad galleries with the sound ; And from the throne there spake aloud A voice, — " Be the bold man unbound ! And by Rome's sceptre, yet unbowed. By Rome, earth's monarch crowned, Who dares the bold, the unequal strife. Though doomed to death, shall save his life. " Joy was upon the dark man's face ; And thus, with laughing eye, spake he : " Loose ye the Lord of Zaara's waste, And let my arms be free ; * He has a martial heart,' thou sayest ; But oh ! who will not be A hero when he fights for life. For home and country, babes and wife ? " And thus I for the strife prepare : The Thracian falchion to me bring, But ask th' imperial leave to spare The shield, — a useless thing. UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. 313 Were I a Samnite's rage to dare, Then o'er me would I fling The broad orb ; but to lion's wrath The shield were but a sword of lath." And he has bared his shining blade, And springs he on the shaggy foe ; Dreadful the strife, but briefly played ; — The desert-king lies low : His long and loud death-howl is made ; And there must end the show. And w^hen the multitude were calm, The favored freed man took the palm. " Kneel down, Rome's emperor beside ? " He knelt, that dark man ; — o'er his brow Was thrown a wreath in crimson dyed • And fair words gild it now : " Thou art the bravest youth that ever tried To lay a lion low ; And from our presence forth thou'go'st To lead the Dacians of our host. " Then flushed his cheek, but not with pride And grieved and gloomily spake he : My cabin stands where blithely glide Proud Danube's waters to the sea : I have a young and blooming bride, And I have children three : — No Roman wealth or rank can give Such joy as in their arms to live. 314 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. " My wife sits at the cabin door, With throbbing heart and swollen eyes ; — While tears her cheek are coursing o'er, She speaks of sundered ties ; She bids my tender babes deplore The death th^ir father dies ; She tells these jewels of my home, I bleed to please the rout of Rome. " I cannot let those cherubs stray Without their sire's protecting care ; And I would chase the griefs away Which- cloud my wedded fair." The monarch spoke ; the guards obey ; And gates unclosed are : He's gone ! — No golden bribes divide The Dacian from his babes and bride. J. A. Jones. THE GKEAT ATTRACTION. (QjH, charming Kitty, fair art thou, ^^ Fair as a rose in June ; Thy hair like braided sunshine is, Thy voice a pleasant tune. But 'tis not for thy Beauty, sweet, I lay my heart beneath thy feet — Not for thy Beauty, sweet. But thou art wise and witty too ; Thy little tongue can say UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 315 The shrewdest and the sweetest things In such a pleasant way. But 'tis not for thy Wisdom, sweet, I lay my heart beneath thy feet — Not for thy Wisdom, sweet. And thou canst sing and dance and paint, And chatter French and Greek, And to the poet, priest and sage. In his own way canst speak. But 'tis not for thy Learning, sweet, I lay my heart beneath thy feet — Not for thy Learning, sweet. Thou art so amiable and true, Thy temper is so mild, So humble and obedient, too, Love guides thee like a child. But not for thy good Temper, sweet, I lay my heart beneath thy feet — Not for thy Temper, sweet. Not for thy Beauty or thy Youth, Not for thy Heart's rich store, Not for thy sunny Temper's truth, Thy Wisdom, Wit, or Lore, I love thee, sweet : such things are trash, I love thy hundred thousand Cash — Thy $100,000 Cash ! 316 UNCLE HERBERT'S SPEAKER. BUSTIN' THE TEMPEEANCE MAN. POARSELY demanding "Gimme a drink!" He sidled up to the bar, And he handled his glass with the air of one Who had often before "been thar. " And a terrible glance shot out of his eyes, And over his hearers ran As he muttered, ** I'm hangin' around the town Fer to bust that temp'rance man! " I've heerd he's a comin' with singin' and sich, And prayin' and heaps of talk ; And allows he'll make all fellers what drink Toe square to the temp'rance chalk. I reckon " — and here he pulled out a knife That was two feet long or more, And he handled his pistols familiarly, While the crowd made a break for the door. The good man came and his voice was kind, And his ways were meek and mild ; " But I'm goin' to bust him," the roarer said — " Jess wait till he gits me riled." Then he playfully felt of his pistol belt, And took up his place on the stage, And waited in wrath for the temperance man To further excite his rage. But the orator didn't ; he wasn't that sort. For he talked right straight to the heart, And somehow or other the roarer felt UNCLE HERBERTS SPEAKER. 317 The trembling tear-drops start. And he thought of the wife who had loved him well, And the children that climbed his knee, And he said, as the terrible pictures were drawn, " He's got it kerrect — that's me!" Then his thoughts went back to the years gone by, When his mother had kissed his brow, As she tearfully told of the evils of drink, And he made her a solemn vow. That he never should touch the poisonous cup Which had ruined so many before ; And the tears fell fast as he lowly said : "He's ketchin' me more and more!" He loosened his hold on his pistols and knife, And covered his streaming eyes. And though it was homely, his prayer went up — Straight to the starht skies. Then he signed his name to the temperance pledge, And holding it high, said he', " I came here to bust that temp'rance chap, But I reckon he's busted me. " A. L. Harvey. AUTOGRAPH -ALBUM YERSES, CONTENTS. Page. DEDICATORY, - - - - 319 SENTIMENT, - - - - - 323 LOVE. 348 HUMOROUS, 350 REMEMBRANCE. .... 369 MISCELLANEOUS, - - - - 381 818 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. DEDICATORY. Go, little book. Bring the best wishes of happi- ness to the fair owner of this memorial of friendship; and gather the brightest gems of Virtue, Esteem and Love from the fairy fields of a bright future. :o: While journeying through life's troubled sea May this fair book a solace be ! Whene'er you turn its pages o'er, Then think of those — perhaps no more- Who, with their hearts so full of love, Invoked the Muses from above To aid them as they gladly penned A tribute to their valued friend. In leisure moments cast a look Upon the pages of this book ; When absent friends thy thoughts engage, Think of the one who fills this page. Go, album ! range the gay parterre; From gem to gem, from flower to flower. Select with taste and cull with care. And bring your offering fresh and rare, To this sweet maiden's bower ! 319 320 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. May no presuming pen Write aught but faultless truth Upon a page of this fair book, Sacred to Innocence and Truth. To earnest words and eloquent, To humor, wit and sentiment. To language where ideas throng To show the writer's friendship strong, To chastened thought and cultured sense, To simple lays without pretense. To brief quotations chosen apt. To hidden meanings quaintly wrapped. To all the efforts meant to please That come to pages such as these, To show how much friends hold you dear, I dedicate your album here. to thee are consecrate These leaves of smooth, unspotted white ; Emblems most fitting of thy state, — So good — so fair — so pure — so bright. Here Wit will sparkling stanzas strew, — Here WiSDOM solemn maxims store, — Here Friendship write its counsels true, — DEDICATORY. 321 Here LoVE may gently love implore. When the sere Autumn leaves shall come — As come to all they surely will — Your eyes may o'er these leaflets roam, And friends recall who love you still. My album is a garden spot Where all my friends may sow, Where thorns and thistles flourish not, But flowers alone may grow. With smiles for sunshine, tears for showers, I'll water, watch and guard these flowers. Dear friend, please take your facile pen in hand. And — as if with a fairy's magic wand — Record a page, a verse, or e'en a line ; 'Twill have a value for this heart of mine. Not for its beauty only, but its truth ; As bringing back the days of pleasant youth. Kind friends, I beg that you will fill This book with tokens of good-will. If on my mission I'd succeed, A word from every friend I'll need. Here all may bow at friendship's shrine — Here all that will may write a line. Give me mementos that will tell The names of those who wish me well. 322 AUTOGRAPH ALBUM VERSES. My album's open ! Come and see ! What ! Don't you waste a line on me ? Write but a thought, a word or two, That memory may revert to you. In this fair garden plants shall grow And in their freshness bud and blow — Plants to which love has beauty lent, And blossoms sweet of sentiment. I TRUST that evVy one that calls me friend Will to this little book some trifle lend, Whether some fancy flowers wildly sweet, Or some wise proverb, or some couplet neat, Or sentence from some writer, grave or funny : From ev'ry hive the wise can take some honey, Whether the bees have roam'd in wealth's rich bowers, Or painful glean'd amid wild wayside flowers. No carping critic's eye need scan For venial faults this little book ; 'Tis meant for Friendship's eye alone, Which seeks not pebbles in each brook. SENTIMENT. Fair girl, by whose simplicity My spirit has been won From the stern earthliness of life, As shadows flee the sun, — I turn again to think of thee, And half deplore the thought, That for one instant, o'er my soul, Forgetfulness hath wrought ! I turn to that charmed hour of hope, When first upon my view Came the pure sunshine of thine heart, Borne from thine eyes of blue. 'Twas thy high purity of soul — Thy thought-revealing eye — That placed me spellbound at thy feet, Sweet wanderer from the sky. :o: Oh, lady ! there be many -things That seem right fair above ; But sure not one among them all Is half so sweet as love^: Let us not pay our vows alone, But join two altars into one. Speak of me kindly when life's dreams are o'er ; Speak of me gently when I am no more. 323 324 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. TiS not the fairest form that holds The mildest, purest soul, within ; 'Tis not the richest plant that folds The sweetest breath of fragrance in, Our grandsire, ere of Eve possess'd. Alone, and e'en in Paradise unblest, With mournful looks the blissful scene surveyed, And wandered in the solitary shade ; The Maker saw, took pity, and bestowed Woman, the last, the best reserved of God. A LOVELIER nymph the pencil never drew ; For the fond graces formed her easy mien, And heaven's soft azure in her eye was seen Some little token of regard You wish from me to claim But as time is pressing hard, I will but write my name. Save thy toiling, spare thy treasure, All I ask is friendship's pleasure ; Let the shining orb lie darkling, Bring no gem in lustre sparkling. Gifts and gold are naught to me I would only look on thee ! SENTIMENT. 325 " I WILL not say I'd give the world To win those charms divine ; I will not say I'd give the world — The Avorld it is not mine. The vow that's made thy love to win In simple truth shall be ; My heart is all I have to give, And give that all to thee." But while I knelt at beauty's shrine, And love's devotion paid, I felt 'twas but an empty vow That passion's pilgrim made ; For while, in raptur'd gazing lost. To give my heart I swore One glance from her soon made me feel My heart was mine no more. Never wedding, ever wooing, Still a lovelorn heart pursuing. Read you not the wrong you're doing, In my cheek's pale hue ? All my life with sorrow strewing, — Wed, or cease to woo. The wildest ills that darken life Are rapture to the bosom's strife; The tempest, in its blackest form, Is beauty to the bosom's storm. 326 AUTOGRAPH- ALBUM VERSES. A PEPPER-CORN is very small, but seasons every dinner More than all other condiments, although 'tis sprinkled thinner ; Just so a little Woman is, if Love will let you win her — There's not a joy in all the world you will not find within her. And as within the little rose you find the richest dyes, And in a little grain of gold much price and value lies, As from a little balsam much ordor doth arise. So in a little Woman there's a taste of paradise. :o: As O'VER the cold sepulchral stone Some name arrests the passer-by, Thus, when thou view'st this page alone, May mine attract thy pensive eye ! And when by thee that name is read, Perchance in some succeeding year, Reflect on me as on the dead, And think my heart is buried here. J :o: On you, most loved, with anxious fear I wait. And from your judgment must expect my fate. Take my esteem, if you on that can live, For frankly, sir, 'tis all I have to give. SENTUfENT. 327 Lives there the man too cold to prove The joys of Friendship and of Love? Then let him die; when these are fled, Scarce do we differ from the dead, :o: Oh, still my fervent prayer will be — "Heaven's choicest blessings rest on thee!" Some friends may wish thee happiness, . Some others wish thee wealth ; My wish for thee is better far — Contentment, blest with health. :o: Thou sleep'st Avhile the eyes of the planets are watching, , Regardless of love and of me. I sleep: but my dreams, at thy lineaments catching, Present me with nothing but thee. Thou are chang'd, while the color of night changes not Like the fading allurements of day; I am changed, for all beauty to me seems a blot While the joy of my heart is away. When thou art with me every sense is dull. And all I am, or know, or feel, is thee: My soul grows faint, my veins run liquid flame. And my bewilder'd spirit seems to swim In eddying whirls of passion dizzily. 328 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. I've gazed on many a brighter face, But ne'er on one, for years, Where beauty left so soft a trace As it had left on hers; But who can paint the spell that wove A brightness round the whole! 'Twould take an angel from the skies To paint the immortal soul, — To trace the light, the inborn grace, The spirit sparkling o'er her face. Write your name in Love, Kindness and Char- ity, on the hearts of the people you come in contact with, and you will be loved by all. Oh, Woman! Woman! thou art form'd to bless The heart of restless man, to chase his care. And charm existence by thy loveliness; Bright as the sunbeam, as the morning fair, If but thy foot fall on a wilderness Flowers spring and shed their roseate blossoms there, Shrouding the thorns that in thy pathway rise, And scattering o'er it hues of Paradise. :o: Well, peace to thy heart, though another's it be. And health to thy cheek, though it bloom not for me. SENTIMENT. 329 Not purple violets in the early spring Such graceful sweets, such tender beauties bring ; The orient blush which does thy cheeks adorn, Makes coral pale — vies with the rosy morn. Oh, fairest of creation! last and best Of all God's works! creature in whom excelled Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet! Thou art beautiful, young lady — But I need not tell you this ; For few have borne, unconsciously The spell of loveliness. Woman's truth and woman's love Trusting ever, Faithless never, Blest on earth, is blest above. Ministering oft in sorrow's hour, Loving truly, Fondly, duly Proving e'er affection's power. Ne'er forgetting, ne'er forgot ; Richest treasures, Joyful pleasures Ever be her happy lot. 330 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Passions are likened best to floods and streams— The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb : So when affections yield discourse, it seems The bottom is but shallow whence they come. They that are rich in words must needs discover They are but poor in that which makes a lover. :o: Oh ! how the passions, insolent and strong, Bear our weak minds their rapid course along ; Make us the madness of their will obey ; Then die, and leave us to our griefs a prey. I HAVE seen the wild flowers springing, In wood, and field, and glen, Where a thousand birds were singing, And my thoughts were of thee then ; For there's nothing gladsome round me, Or beautiful to see. Since thy beauty's spell has bound me, But is eloquent of thee. May'st thou live in joy forever. Naught from thee true pleasure sever ; From thy heart arise no sigh. And no tear bedew thine eye : Joys be many, cares be few, Smoothe the path thou shalt pursue, And heaven's richest blessings shine Ever on both thee and thine. SENTIMENT. 331 The changeful sand doth only know The shallow tide and latest ; The rocks have marked its highest flow, The deepest and the greatest : And deeper still the flood-marks grow ; — So, since the hour I met thee, The more the tide of time doth flow, The less can I forget thee ! My heart is like a lonely bird That sadly sings, Brooding upon its nest unheard, With folded wines. :o:- There comes For ever something between us and what We deem our happiness. She's beautiful! — Her raven curls Have broken hearts in envious girls; — And then they sleep in contrast so, Like raven feathers upon snow, And bathe her neck,— and shade the bright Dark eye from which they catch the light, As if their graceful loops were made To keep that glorious eye in shade, And holier make its tranquil speh. Like waters in a shaded well. / 332 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Pure as the snow the summer sun Never at noon hath looked upon; Deep as is the diamond wave, Hidden in the desert cave, — Changeless as the greenest leaves Of the wreath the cypress weaves,- Hopeless, often, when most fond,— Without hope or fear beyond Its own pale fidelity; — And this woman's love can be. • When the name that I write here is dim on the page, And the leaves of your album are yellow with age. Still think of me kindly, and do not forget That, wherever I am, I remember you yet. I LOOK upon the fair blue skies, And naught but empty air I see ; But when I turn me to thine eyes. It seemeth unto me Ten thousand angels spread their wings Within those little azure rings. •:o: From her lone path she never turns aside. Though passionate worshipers before her fall Like some pure planet in her lonely pride, She seems to soar and beam above them all ! SENTIMENT. 333 If recollections of friends brighten moments of sad- ness, What a fund of delight is here treasured for thee! If advice and kind wishes bring goodness and glad- ness. How perfect and happy thy future must be. Methinks long years have flown, And, sitting in her old arm-chair, has older grown. With silver sprinkled in her hair, Her album thus she holds. And turns its many pages o'er. And wonders if it still contains The memories of yore. As o'er these pages thus she runs. With many a sigh and kiss. Then suddenly she stops and says, "Who could have written this?" "Trust in thee?" Ay, dearest, there's no one but must. Unless truth be a fable, in such as thee trust! For who can see heaven's own hue in those eyes, And doubt that truth with it came down from the skies ; [young light, While each thought of thy bosom, like morning's Almost ere 'tis born, flashes there on his sight! 334 AUTOGRAPH ALBUM VERSES. What thing so good which not some harm may bring ? E'en to be happy is a dangerous thing. We meet and part — the world is wide; We journey onward side by side A Httle while, and then again Our paths diverge. A little pain — A silent yearning of the heart ; For what has grown of life a part, A shadow passing o'er the sun, Then gone, and light again has come. We meet and part, and then forget ; I And life holds blessings for us yet. Oh, never can we know how dear Each loved one is, till we have known The deep regret, the bitter tear. That comes when those loved ones are gone. I ASK not what change Has come over thy heart ; I seek not what chances Have doomed us to part ; I know thou hast told me To love thee no more, And I still must obey Where I once did adore. SENTIMENT, 335 Drop one pearl in memory's casket for your friend. Passing through life's field of action, Lest we part before its end, Take within your modest volume, This memento from a friend. :o:- Oft as thine eye shall fondly trace These simple lines I sketch for thee, Whate'er the time, where'er the place, O think of me. One struggle more, and I am free From pangs that rend my heart in twain; One last long sigh to love and thee, Then back to busy life again. :o: I ask not a Hfe for thee, All radiant as others have done; But that life may have just enough shadow To temper the glare of the sun. :o: Oh, Woman! lovely Woman! Nature made thee To temper man; we had been brutes without you! Angels are painted fair, to look like you; There's in you all that we beheve of heaven; Amazing brightness, purity and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love. 336 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. The sweetest tales of human weal and sorrow, The fairest trophies of the limner's fame, To my fond fancy, Mary, seem to borrow Celestial halos from thy gentle name. — :o: The bright black eye, the melting blue, I cannot choose between the two; But that is dearest all the while Which means for us the sweetest smile. Is thy name Mary, maiden fair? Such should, methinks, its music be. The sweetest name that mortals bear, Were best befitting thee; And she to whom it once was given Was half of earth and half of heaven. Trust, my friend, no Siren's whisper, Weave no web in fancy's loom, Build no castle for the future. For the golden days to come. There's music in the forest leaves When summer winds are there, And in the laugh of forest girls, That braid their sunny hair. The first wild bird that drinks the dew, From violets of the spring, Has music in his song, and in The fluttering of his wing. SENTIMENT. 337 Life has more or less besetments, More or less of grief and woe; Shadows always check our pathway, Sunbeams only come and go. :o: May peace enfold thee in her downy wing, Pure songs around thee weave a fairy spell. To heaven thy heart's deep longing cling, And happiness forever with thee dwell. I PRAY the prayer of Plato old: God make the beautiful within ; And let thine eyes the good behold In everything save sin. They say that love had once a book, (Tne urchin likes to copy you), Where all who came the pencil took, And wrote — like us — a line or two. 'Twas innocence, the maid divine, Who kept this volume bright and fair, And saw that no unhallowed line Or thought profane should enter there. May the blessing of God be upon thee, Ma)^, the Sun of Glory shine 'round thy bed, May the gates of plenty, honor and happiness be open to thee. 338 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. The crimson glow of modesty o'erspread Her cheek, and gave new lustre to her charms. This book may fall assunder, Its pages dim with age; The ink may lose its lustre Upon each shining page; But she who writes these verses Shall ever, ever be. Through all the world's reverses, A faithful friend to thee. For mine is the lay that lightly floats, And mine are the murmuring, dying notes That fall as soft as snow on the sea. And melt in the heart as instantly! And the passionate strain that, deeply going. Refines the bosom that it trembles through, As the musk-wind over the water blowing, Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too! I WANT a warm and faithful friend. To cheer the adverse hour ; Who ne'er to flatter will descend, Nor bend the knee to power ; A friend to chide me when I'm wrong ; My inmost soul to see; And that my friendship prove as strong, For her as hers for me. SENTIMENT. 339 May Heaven on you its choicest blessings shower Is the sincere wish of your friend. :o: There is a bud in hfe's dark wilderness, [tress ; Whose beauties charm, whose fragrance soothes dis- There is a beam in life's o'erclouded sky, That gilds the starting tear it cannot dry; That flower, that lonely beam, on Eden's grove Shed the full sweets and heavenly light of love. Alas! that aught so fair could lead astray Man's wavering foot from duty's thornless way. Yet, lovely Woman! yet thy winning smile. That caused our oares, can every care beguile ; And thy soft hand amid the maze of ill Can rear one blissful bower of Eden still. Through days of light and gladness. Through days of love and life. Through smiles and joy and sunshine, Through days with beauty rife; The Lord of life and glory, The king of earth and sea, The Lord who guarded Israel, Keep watch, sweet friend, o'er thee. To all married men be this caution, Which they should duly tender as their life. Neither to doat too much, nor doubt a wife. 340 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. In the golden chain of friendship regard me as a Hnk. She that would raise a noble love, must find Ways to beget a passion for her mind; She must be that which she to the world would seem; For all true love is grounded on esteem; Plainness and truth gain more a generous heart, Than all the crooked subtleties of art. . I'll write a line or two On this fair page for thee, And though I can't the rest outdo, Yet this must do for me. Let fate do her worst, there are rehcs of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy; Which come in the night time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear. As half in shade, and half in sun, This world along its path advances, Oh! may that side the sun shines on Be all that ever meets thy glances; May Time, who casts his blight on all. And daily dooms some joy to death. On thee let years so gently fall They shall not crush one flower beneath. SENTIMENT. 341 Among the many friends who claim A kind remembrance in thy heart, I, too, would add my simple name Among the rest. Oft to the woods at close of day, The star of eve directs my way. To fairy forms my woes I tell, And mingle plaints with Philomel. Sweet bird! trill out thy notes so clear. And waft the sound to 's ear, And tell her, since like thee I pine, To hear thy woes and pity mine. I LOOK upon the fading flowers Thou gavest me, lady, in thy mirth, And mourn, that with the perishing hours Such fair things perish from the earth; For thus I know the moment's feeling Its own light web of life unweaves. The dearest trace from memory stealing, Like perfume from their dying leaves, — The thought that gave it, and the flower, Alike the creatures of an hour. And thus it better were, perhaps, — For feeling is the nurse of pain. And joys that linger in their lapse Must die at last, — and so are vain. 342 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Is it vain in life's wide sea, To ask you to remember me? Undoubtedly it is my lot Just to be known and then — forgot. Not purple violets in the early spring Such graceful sweets, such tender beauties bring; The orient blush which does thy cheeks adorn, Makes coral pale — vies with the rosy morn. She was knowing in all needlework. And shone in dairy and in kitchen too. As in the parlor In after years when you recall The days of pleasures past, And think of joyous hours and all Have flown away so fast. When some forgotten air you hear Brings back past scenes to thee, And gently claims your listening ear ; Keep one kind thought for me. While her laugh, full of life, without any control, But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from her soul. And where it most sparkled, no glance could discover, In lip, cheek, or eyes, for she brighten'd all over. Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon, When it breaks into dimples, and laughs in the sun. SENTIMENT. 343 May Future, with her kindest smile, Wreath laurels for thy brow; May loving angels guard and keep thee Ever pure as thou art now. Yes, , I will write my name In here, as you request ; And, if to you it's all the same, I'll add a line — though rather tame — For Critic's eyes, as my bequest. My wishes and my hopes for you, Find glad expression here ; Although, indeed, it's very true. There is no room for all that's due To one we hold so dear. The world would be lonely, The garden a wilderness left to deform, If the flowers but remember'd the chilling wind; only And the fields gave no verdure for fear of the storm Die when you will, you need not wear At heaven's court a form more fair Than beauty here on earth has given; Keep but the lovely looks we see — The voice we hear — and you will be An angel ready made for heaven. 344 AUTOQRAPH-ALBTJM VERSES. May your days in joy be passed With friends to bless and cheer. And each year exceed the last In all that earth holds dear. Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain; Awake but one, and lo! what myriads rise! Each stamps its image as the other flies! All the blessings of this life are worth nothing without the sunshine of hope for a bright and lasting future. My wishes are these for thee. Were mine the power, I'd twine for thee A crown of jewels rare; Each gem should be a kingdom, Each pearl an humble prayer. May you live in bliss, from sorrow away, Having plenty laid up for a rainy day; And when you are ready to settle in life, May you find a good husband and make a good wife. Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, That well known name awakens all my woes. Oh, name forever sad! forever dear! Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear! SENTIMENT. 345 Not for the summer hour alone, When skies resplendent shine, And youth and pleasure fill the throne, Our hearts and hands we twine; But for those stern and wintry days Of peril, pain, and fear, When Heaven's wise discipline doth make This earthly journey drear. I BLESS thee for the noble heart, The tender and the true, Where mine hath found the happiest rest That e'er fond woman knew; I bless thee, faithful friend and guide. For my own, my treasur'd share. In the mournful secrets of thy soul, In thy sorrow and thy care. There is a small and simple flower That twines around the humblest cot. And in the sad and lonely hours It whispers low: " Forget me not." Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle powers. We, who improve his golden hours. By sweet experience know That marriage, rightly understood, Gives to the tender and the good A paradise below. 346 AUTOORAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Accomplishments are native to her mind, Like precious pearls within a clasping shell, And winning grace her every act refined, Like sunshine, shedding beauty where it fell. :o: Then come the wild weather — come sleet or come snow. We will stand by each other, however it blow; Oppression and sickness, and sorrow and pain. Shall be to our true love as links to the chain. Dost thou know, love, that thy smile Makes the whole world bright for me, Just as sunrise pours a sudden Purple glory on the sea. Ah! had I that power, ever Should the world look bright to thee. Here's a sigh for those who love me. And a smile for those who hate; And whatever sky's above me, Here's a heart for every fate, Oh, happy state! when souls each other draw. When love is liberty, and Nature law! All then is full, possessing and possess'd. No craving void left aching in the breast. Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part, And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart. SENTIMENT. 347 It may occur in after life That you, I trust, a happy wife, Will former happy hours retrace, Recall each remembered face. At such a moment I but ask — I hope 'twill be a pleasant task — That you'll remember as a friend One who'll prove true e'en to the end. My autograph? Why, certainly, my dear; I wish its market value was more clear. You still should have it, for my will is good — I'd give a kingdom to you if I could. What more could she have purchased for a smile, That other queenly sorceress of the Nile? Like Raleigh I would praise my queen. On crystal with a diamond keen ; But lack the diamond and 'the glass, — So give you these and let those pass. No queen that ever trod the earth Had more of woman's genuine worth Than thee, fair lady, bright and pure. For whom I pen this signature. I would not blot this page, but I would like to make a spot large enough to hold you to remem- brance of your friend. LOVE. Love is a subject to himself alone, And knows no other empire than his own. Look how the blue-eyed violets Glance love to one another! Their little leaves are whispering The vows they may not smother. The birds are pouring passion forth In every blossoming tree;— If flowers and birds talk love, lady, Why not we? :o: Why should I blush to own T love? 'Tis Love that rules the realms above. Why should I blush to say to all That virtue holds my heart in thrall? Why should I seek the thickest shade, Lest Love's dear secret be betrayed? Why the stern brow deceitful move, When I am languishing with love? Is it a weakness thus to dwell On passion that I dare not tell? Such weakness I would ever prove. 'Tis painful, but 'tis sweet to love ! 348 LOVE. 349 The dart of Love was feather'd first From Folly's wing, they say, Until he tried his shaft to shoot In Beauty's heart one day; He miss'd the maid so oft, 'tis said, His aim became untrue, And Beauty laugh'd, as his last shaft He from his quiver drew; "In vain," said she, "you shoot at me. You little spiteful thing — The feather on your shaft I scorn. When pluck'd from Folly's wing. " But Cupid soon fresh arrows found And fitted to his string, And each new shaft he feathered from His own bright glossy wing ; He shot until no plume was left To waft him to the sky. And Beauty smil'd upon the child, When he no more could fly; "Now, Cupid, I am thine," she said, "Leave off thy archer play, For Beauty yields — when she is sure Love will not fly away." Have I not managed my contrivance well, To try your love and make you doubt of mine? 350 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES, I HOLD it true, whate'er befall — I feel it when I sorrow most — 'Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all. The cold in clime are cold in blood, Their love can scarce deserve the name; But mine was like the lava-flood That boils in Etna's breast of flame. Yes! Love indeed is light from heaven, A spark of that immortal fire With angels shared — to mortals given, To lift from earth our low desire. Devotion wafts the mind above, But heaven itself descends in love; A feeling from the Godhead caught. To wean from self each sordid thought; A ray of Him who formed the whole; A glory circling round the soul. There ever is a form, a face Of maiden beauty in my dreams, Speeding before me, like the race To ocean of the mountain streams, — With dancing hair and laughing eyes, That seem to mock me as it flies. LOVE. 351 Spring has no blossom fairer than thy face; Winter no snow-wreath purer than thy mind; The dewdrop trembhng to the morning beam Is hke thy smile — pure, transient, heaven-refin'd. Oh, how the passions, insolent and strong, Bear our weak minds their rapid course along ; Make us the madness of their will obey; Then die, and leave us to our griefs a prey. The light that beams from Woman's eye, And sparkles through her tear, Responds to that impassion'd sigh Which love delights to hear. 'Tis the sweet language of the soul, On which a voice is hung, More eloquent than ever stole From saint's or poet's tongue. I HAVE heard of reasons manifold Why Love must needs be blind ; But this the best of all I hold — His eyes are in his mind. What outward form and features are He guesseth but in part ; But what within is good and fair He seeth with his heart. 352 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Suns may darken, — heaven be bow'd, — Still unchanged shall be, Soul-deep here that moonlit cloud, To which I looked with THEE. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove; O no! it is an ever fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, [taken. Whose worth's unknown,, although his height be Love! Whata volume in a word! an ocean in a tear! A Seventh heaven in a glance ! a whirlwind in a sigh ! The lightning in a touch — a millennium in a moment! What concentrated joy, or woe, in blest or blighted love! Although my heart, in earlier youth. Might kindle with more wild desire. Believe me, it has gained in truth Much more than it has lost in fire; The flame now warms my inmost core, That then but sparkled on thy brow; And though I seem'd to love thee more, Yet, oh, I love thee better now. LOVE. 353 Almighty love! what wonders are not thine! Soon as thy influence breathes upon the soul, By thee the haughty bend the suppliant knee, By thee the hand of avarice is opened Into profusion; by thy power the heart Of cruelty is melted into softness; The rude grow tender, and the fearful bold. For me I'm woman's slave confessed — Without her, hopeless and unblest; And so are all, gainsay who can, For what would be the life of man, If left in desert or in isle, Unlighted up by beauty's smile? Even tho' he boasted monarch's name, And o'er his own sex reign 'd supreme, With thousands bending to his sway, If lovely Woman were away. What were his life? What could it be? A vapor on a shoreless sea; A troubled cloud in darkness toss'd, Amongst the waste of waters lost; A ship deserted in the gale, Without a steersman or a sail, A star, or beacon-light before, Or hope of heaven evermore; A thing without a human tie, Unloved to live, — unwept to die. 354 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. I BLESS thee for kind looks and words Shower'd on my path Hke dew; For all the love in those deep eyes, — A gladness ever new! For the voice which ne'er to mine replied, But in kindly tones of cheer: For every spring of happiness My soul hath tasted here! I KNOW a passion still more deeply charming Than fever'd youth e'er felt; and that is Love, By long experience mellow'd into Friendship. How far beyond that froward child of fancy! With beauty pleased awhile, anon disgusted, Seeking some other toy; how far more noble Is that bright offspring of unchanging reason, That fonder grows with age, and charms forever. So like the chances are of Love and War, That they alone in this distinguished are: In Love, the victors from the vanquished fly — They fly that wound, and they pursue that die. Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt Truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love! LOVE. 355 Oh, how bitter a thing it is to look Into happiness through another man's eyes! :o: There are in love the extremes of touch'd desire, — The noblest brightness or the coarsest fire!. In vulgar bosoms vulgar wishes move: Nature guides choice, and as men think they love. In the loose passion men profane the name, Mistake the purpose, and pollute the flame: In nobler bosoms friendship's form it takes, And sex alone the lovely difference makes. Let grace and goodness be the principal load- stone of thy affections. For love which hath ends, will have an end; whereas that which is founded on true Virtue, will always continue. Love is a pearl of purest hue, But stormy waves are round it; And dearly may a woman rue The hour that first she found it. Ye flowers that droop, forsaken by the spring; Ye birds that, forsaken by the summer, cease to sing; Ye trees that fade when autumn heats remove. Say, is not Absence death to those who love? 356 AUTOGRAPH ALBUM VERSES. Let no one say that there is need Of time for love to grow; Ah, no! the love that kills indeed, Despatches at a blow. By every hope that earthward clings, By faith that mounts on angel-wings. By dreams that make night-shadows bright, And truths that turn our day to night, By childhood's smile and manhood's tear By pleasure's day and sorrow's year. By all the strains that fancy sings, And pangs that time so surely brings. For joy or grief, for hope or fear. For all here: fter as for here. In peace or strife, in storm or shine, My soul is wedded unto thine! God gives us love. Something to love He lends us; but when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone. Love is to my impassion'd soul Not, as with others, a mere part Of existence ; but the whole — The very life-breath of my heart. LOVE. 357 The world! ah, Fanny! love must shun The path where many rove; One bosom to recline upon, The heart to be his only one, Are quite enough for love. 'T WAS but a moment; and yet in that time She crowded th' impressions of many an hour; Her eye had a glow, like the sun of her clime, Which wak'd ev'ry feeling at once into flower! There's not a wind but whispers of thy name, And not a flower that grows beneath the moon But in its hues and fragrance tells a tale Of thee, my love. When, , I confess my pain, In gentle words you pity show; But gentle words are all in vain: Such gales my flame but higher blow. Ah, , would you cure the smart Your conquering eyes have keenly made, Yourself upon my bleeding heart, Yourself, fair , must be laid. Thus, for the viper's sting we know No surer remedy is found Than to apply the torturing foe. And squeeze his venom on the wound. 358 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. They sin who tell us love can die; With love all other passions fly, — All others are but vanity. In heaven ambition cannot dwell, Nor avarice in the vaults of hell; Earthly these passions of the earth, They perish where they have their birth; But love is indestructible; Its holy flame forever burneth; From heaven it came, to heaven returneth. Ah; me! how deep the poison lies Which late I drank from 's eyes! It burns, it spreads; each tortured vein Throbs with the agonizing pain. For several virtues Have I lik'd several women ; never any With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, And put it to the foil: but you, oh you, So perfect, and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best! I NEED not say how, one by one, Love's flowers have dropp'd from ofi" love's chain Enough to say that they are gone, And that they cannot bloom again. LOVK 359 Seek for a bosom all honest and true, Where love once awaken'd will never depart; Turn, turn to that breast, like the dove to its nest, And you'll find there's no home like the home in the heart. I DEEM'd that time, I deem'd that pride, Had quench'd at last my boyish flame; Nor knew, till seated by thy side. My heart in all, save hope, the same. They that Love had once a book (The urchin likes to copy you). Where all who came the pencil took, And wrote, like us, a line or two. 'TWAS Innocence, the maid divine. Who kept this volume bright and fair, And saw that no unhallowed line Or thought profane should enter there. Beneath the touch of Hope, how soft, How light the magic pencil ran! Till Fear would come, alas! as oft, And, trembling, close what Hope began. Love is, or ought to be, our greatest bliss; Since every other joy, how dear soever, Gives way to that, and we leave all for love. HUMOROUS. May you always have enough and plenty for each day; May you never have enough to waste or throw away; May you live long enough your debts to pay; May you never live so long as to be in otherpeople's way. — ; — :o: To knit and spin was once a girl's employment; But now to dress and have a beau is all a girl's en- joyment. Remember me when far away, And only half awake ; Remember me on your wedding-day, And send a piece of cake. IS your name, Single is your station, Happy be the little man That makes the alteration. Remember me, is all I ask, And, if remembrance be a task, Forget me. 36t HUMOROUS. 361 / May your coffee and slanders against you be ever the same — without grounds. :o:- ROUND went the autograph; hither it came, For me to write in; so here's my name. The world is full of fools, And he who would none view, Must shut himself in a cave, And break his mirror, too. Some folks are constantly wishing; I could never get much for a wish, But should you ever go a fishing, May your net be filled with fish. :o: Oh, for a home in Zululand, or Arctic regions cold, A peasant's cot or hermit's hut, midst solitude un- told, With Kaffirs or with Hottentots, in Egypt or Leone; 'Twere bliss to live in anj/ spot where albums are unknown. Thanksgiving-day again is here, And turkey is the leading question; I wish, with heartiness sincere. That you may have a good digestion. 362 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. I MOST sincerely wish that you May have many friends, and who, No matter what you are passing through, Will stick as close as good, strong glue. :o: Life's a jest, and all things show it; I thought so once, and now I know it. On this page I'll write, Simply to indite My name as your friend. :o: Oh! love is such a strange affair; So strange to all. It Cometh from above And lighteth like a dove On some. But some it never hits Unless it gives them fits. Oh, hum. Some write for pleasure, some write for fame; But I write simply to sign my name. Oh, wayward mortal who these books invented, Why wast thou not by some kind hand prevented? And thereby kept from many a luckless swain The direful knowledge that he lacked a brain — Lacked it, at least, where poetry was needed, Like the poor wight who here has not succeeded. ^ HUMOROUS. 363 Remember me when "far, far off, Where the woodchucks die of whooping-cough. " :o: Ever be content with thy lot, especially if it be a corner lot. :o: I'm in a quandary how to compose Doggerel rhymes and ditties for those Albums so freely thrust under my nose. Vain 'tis to strive 'gainst the Miss who decrees, An original poem, if you please," From your dull brain you must squeeze Fain would I fly— I care not where; Lend me your wings, O angels fair, Encounter another album I do not dare. Can it be that there is no country bright, Kept securely free from albums' blight? 'TiS but a trifle that you ask. But this you will admit, That trifles, more than greater tasks Will sometimes strain our wit, I wish thee health, and wealth, and joy, As others have before; And were I in poetic mood, I'd surely wish thee more. He who complies against his will Is of his own opinion still. 364 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. I WRITE here a name which I hope shall be known To all of the ages which follow my own. How conceited ! " you say; but my lines shall remain, 'Tis my hope, you'll discover, Not I, that is vain. May you always be happy, And live at your ease; Get a kind husband. And do as you please. When on this page you chance to look, Just think of me and close the book. As sure as comes your wedding day, A broom to you I'll send; In sunshine, use the brushy part, In storm^ the other end. :o: When asked in an album to write, I feel quite inclined to refuse; For what should I dare to indite That would a young lady amuse? Not wit, for I have none of that. Nor romance — my fancy is tame; And compliments sound so flat, I'm forced to write merely my name. HUMOROUS. 865 What can I write that's new Among so very many Pretty compliments to you? In poetry, I fear I'd fail — I'm very sure I'd stammer — You cannot drive the ponderous nail Witn a small ten-cent tack hammer. Since, then, so high I cannot soar, Nor chirp notes like the lark, Please cancel what I've said before, I'll simply make my mark. :o: Sailing down the stream of life, In your little bark canoe, May you have a pleasant trip With just room enough for two. :o : If a body ask a body. In her book to write; . If a body refuse a body, Need a body fight? All the lassies and the laddies Write sweet things herein; If a body write less sweetly, Does a body sin? If writing in Albums remembrance insures, With the greatest of pleasure I'll scribble in yours. 366 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Though many friends have signed their names, And some have left their mark, I see a place for me remains To add my small remark. My wish for thee is: joy through life; And bliss supreme, when someone's wife. A VERSE you ask this fine day; Of course I'll write you one. The task of writing finds its pay In joy that it is done Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For having lost but once your prime You may forever tarry. If ever a husband you should have. And he this book should see, Tell him of your youthful days, And kiss him once for me. Some people can be very funny; I never could be so. So I'll just inscribe my name — It's the funniest thing I know. HUMOROUS. 367 In the storms of life, When you need an umbrella, May you have to uphold it A handsome young fellow May your cheeks retain their dimples, May your heart be just as gay, Until some manly voice shall whisper, " Dearest, will you name the day? " Long may you live, Happy may you be; When you get married Come and see me. Man's love is like Scotch snufif — You take a pinch, and that's enough. Profit by this sage advice, When you fall in love, think twice. I WOULD that I could express my mind To you, dear friend, in scribbling some rhyme; But you know my tailing as well as I, And you better get another to try. — - — :o: May beauty and truth. Keep you in youth; Green tea and sage Preserve your old age. 368 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. 'Tis an old maxim in the schools, That flattery's the food of fools; Yet now and then you men of wit Will condescend to take a bit. Like a lovely tree She grew to womahood, and between whiles Rejected several suitors, just to learn How to accept a better in his turn. Your love in a" cottage is hungry, Your vine is a nest for flies; Yo2ir milkmaid shocks the graces, And Simplicity talks of pies! You lie down to your shady slumber, And wake with a bug in your ear; And your damsel that walks in the morning, Is shod like a mountaineer. REMEMBRANCE. Remember me, I pray; but not In Flora's gay and blooming hour, When every brake hath found its note, And sunshine smiles in every flower; But when the falling leaf is sere, And withers sadly from the tree And o'er the ruins of the year Cold autumn weeps, — remember me. ^X" :o: A PLACE in thy memory, dearest, Is all that I claim; To pause and look back when thou hearest The sound of my name. :o: There's not an hour Of day, or dreaming night, but I am with thee; There's not a wind but whispers of thy name; And not a flower that sleeps beneath the moon, But in its fragrance tells a tale Of thee. When thou art gone, there creeps into my heart A cold and bitter consciousness of pain; The light, the warmth of life, with thee depart, And I ^'^'t dreaming o'er and o'er again. Thy gretdng clasp, thy parting look and tone; And suddenly I wake — and am alone! 369 370 AUTOGRAPH- ALBUM VERSES. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form and nothing stands; They melt like mist the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go. But in my spirit will I dwell, And dream my dream and hold it true; For though my pen doth write adieu, I cannot say for aye, farewell. No mental blossom can I give Fit 'mid these pretty flowers to live: No rose to rear its blushing head; No lily from its watery bed; No briar its sweetness round to spread; No tuberose fragrance aye to shed. No, Lady, hard will be my lot Unless you'll say "Forget-me-not." When the golden sun is sinking, And your mind from care and trouble's free; When of others you are thinking, Won't you sometimes think of me? The time is swiftly passing oy When we must bid adieu. We know not when we meet again, So these lines I leave with you. REMEMBRANCE. 371 Fond Memory, come and hover o'er This album page of my dear friend; Enrich her from thy precious store, And happy recollection send If on this page she chance to gaze, In years to come — where'er she be — Tell her of earlier happy days. And bring her back one thought of me. • Ah, tell me not that memory Sheds gladness o'er the past, — What is recalled by faded flowers, Save that they did not last! :o: When forced to part from those we love, Though sure to meet to-morrow. We yet a kind of anguish prove. And feel a touch of sorrow. But oh, what words can paint the fears. When from those friends we sever Perhaps to part for month — for years — Perhaps to part forever. :o: Farewell! The leisure and the fearful time Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love, And ample interchange of sweet discourse. Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon. God give us leisure for these rites of love! Once more, adieu! 372 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Count not the hours while their silent wings Thus waft them in fairy flight; For feeling, warm from her dearest springs, Shall hallow the scene to-night. And while the music of joy is here, And the colors of life are gay, Let us think on those that have loved us dear- The friends who are far away. They tell me 'tis decided, you depart: 'Tis wise, 'tis well, but not the less a pain; I have no further claim on your young heart, Mine is the victim, and would be again. To love too much has been the only art I used. I write in haste, and if a stain Be on this sheet, 'tis not what it appears. My eyeballs burn and throb, but have no tears Let me, then let me dream That love goes with us to the shore unknown So o'er the burning tear a heavenly gleam In mercy shall be thrown. Farewell, oh farewell, but whenever you give A thought to the days that are gone, Of the bright sunny things that in memory live, Let a thought of the writer be one. REMEMBRANCE. 37S Farewell, oh farewell, but whenever you give A thought to the days that are gone, Of the bright sunny things that in memory live Let a thought of the writer be one. The hope is but humble — he asks but a share, But a part of tkj memories to be, While no future to him can in rapture compare To the past, made enchanting by thee. Accept, my friend, these lines from me, They show that I remember thee, And hope some thought they will retain. Till you and I shall meet again. Enough, that we are parted — that there rolls A flood of headlong fate between our souls, Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee As hell from heaven, to all eternity. -:o: Fond Memory, come and hover o'er This album page of my fair friend; Enrich her from thy precious store, And happy recollections send. If on this page she chance to gaze In years to come — where'er she be — Tell her of earlier happy days. And bring her back one thought of me. 374 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Farewell! Thou hast trampled love's faith in the dust, Thou hast torn from my bosom its hope and its trust; Yet, if thy life's current with bliss it would swell, I would pour out my own in this last fond farewell. :o: Be always kind-hearted. Do good deeds without end, But never forget, Your affectionate friend. Ah, tell me not that memory Sheds gladness o'er the past: What is recall'd by faded flowers Save that they do not last? Were it not better to forget, Than but remember and regret? Keep me in remembrance, If in the darkness I should stray afar. Like some lost traveler With no guiding star. Be then still my true. Sincere, and loving friend, And o'er all ills and Trials to my life's end Keep me in remembrance. REMEMBRANCE. 375 Accept my friend these lines from me, They show that I remember thee, And hope some thought they will retain Till you and I shall meet again. :o:- Oh, Memory! thou fond deceiver, Still importunate and vain, To former joys recurring ever, And turning all the past to pain; Thou, like the world, th' opprest oppressing, Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe! And he who wants each other blessing In thee must ever find a foe. Methinks that many years have flown And in a large arm-chair, is sitting older grown With silver in her hair. And thus she muses, as she wipes Her glasses o'er and o'er: I wonder if my album keeps The memories of yore. She turns the pages through and through With many a sigh and kiss, When suddenly she stops and says, Who could have written this? 376 AUTOGRAPH-ALBVM VERSES. Hail, memory, hail! In thy exhaustless mine, From age to age unnumber'd treasures shine! Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey, And place and time are subject to thy sway! Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again! I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins. That almost freezes up the heat of life. Art thou gone so? My love! my lord! my friend! I must hear from thee ev'ry day i' the hour, For in a minute there are many days! Oh, by this count I shall be much in years, Ere I again behold my Romeo! In this world of change and sorrow when shall we meet again? :o: With a heart free from care, and my home in the West, I'll pace the broad deck with a light throbbing breast. Yet still as I dream of those days that are gone. Of the gay happy hours in my own native home, Far, far o'er the wave my heart wanders there To its shrine of devotion, where youth, free from care. We spent such golden hours of innocence and glee With you and dear companions, so pray remember me. REMEMBRANCE. 377 Come, flattering memory! and tell my heart How kind she was, and with what pleasing art She strove its fondest wishes to obtain, Confirm her power, and faster bind my chain. Though many miles apart Our homes may prove to be, Yet in the recess of your heart Keep one kind thought of me. Fare thee well! Yet think a while On one whose bosom bleeds to doubt thee: Who now would rather trust thy smile, And die with thee, than live without thee. Through time we'll change, and then. This little book will somewhat bind us: You'll take it up, and think of me. And all the joys we've left behind us. "Forget me not" when death shall close These eyelids in their last repose. And murm'ring breezes softly wave Perchance the grass upon my grave. Whate'er thy age and lot may be. Long as thy life shall last, remember me. 378 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. I HEARD thy low-whispered farewell, love, And silently saw thee depart; — Ay, silent;— for how could words tel], love, The sorrow that swelled in my heart? They could not. Oh, language is faint, When passion's devotion would speak; Light pleasure or pain it may paint, But with feelings like ours it is weak! Yet tearless and mute though I stood, love. Thy last words are thrilling me yet, And my heart would have breathed, if it could love, And murmured, "Oh, do not forget!" "Forget me not" when pleasure's snare Would keep you from the house of prayer. "Forget me not" in feeble age, E'en let me then your thoughts engage. If ever love's fondest prayer brought blessings from on high, thou shalt be blessed. Friend! fare- well! To him on whom thy cheerful hope relies, whose arm sustains thee, and whose promise soothes — my faith commends thee — may'st thou still re- ceive grace for grace, and love for love; and guid- ance through this wilderness of tears! till thou pos- sess thy Crown of Life. :o: . On this leaf, in memory prest. ' May my name forever rest. REMEMBRANCE. 379 Oh! think of me some day When I am far away; I'll pray thy days be long And joyous as the song Of sweet birds singing near, Thy heart with love to cheer. Farewell; how oft that sound of sadness, Like thorns of sorrow pierce the heart, And hush the harp tones of its gladness, And tear the bleeding chords apart. Farewell! and if by distance parted We see each other's face no more. Ah! may we with the faithful-hearted Meet beyond this parting shore. Farewell! perhaps forever, Beloved one adieu! Wilt thou this token please to take, And keep it long for friendship's sake; And when these lines you chance to see. Remember that they came from me. These few hnes to you are tendered, By a friend sincere and true; Hoping but to be remembered When I'm far away from you. 380 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. We will revive those times, and in our memories Preserve, and still keep fresh, like flowers in water, Those happier days; when at our eyes our souls Kindled their mutual fires, their equal beams Shot and return'd, till link'd and twin'd in one, They chainM our hearts together. :o: "Forget me not" when far away Amidst a thoughtless world you stray "Forget me not" when fools would win Your footsteps to the paths of sin. "Forget me not" when urged to wrong By fashions and temptations strong. :o: Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, And fondly broods with miser care: Time but the impression deeper makes, As streams their channels deeper wear. MISCELLANEOUS. We bask In Friendship's smile, And pure affection glows with gladdening light, As life's extending path is often bright And beautiful the while. But if a stormy wave Break on our path and change the pleasing scene, Disturb the sea of life, so late serene, Friendship may find a grave. Such is the changeless love, The pure affection of that lasting Friend Whose smile imparts a joy that ne'er shall end- A boon from Heaven above; Whatever be our lot, Sickness or health, or trial's darkest hour; If friends forsake, and tempests o'er us lower, That Friend forsaketh not. I CARE not much for gold or land; Give me a mortgage here and there, Some good bank stock — some note of hand Or trifling railroad share; I only ask that Fortune send A little more than I can spend. Yours sincerely — although merely — 381 382 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Look forward what's to come, and back what's past. Thy hfe will be with praise and prudence graced; What loss or gain may follow, thou may'st guess; Thou then wilt be secure of the success. Each to your chaplet brings a flower, To please you in an idle hour. Some bring a violet, some a rose; Some poppy blossoms, for repose; Some lilies white, some eglantine, And some the climbing passion vine. The simplest blossom suits me best, So here's my primrose with the rest. Sweet beauty sleeps upon thy brow, And floats before my eyes; As meek and pure as doves art thou, Or beings of the skies. Accept, dear friend, the trifle that i write — The simple tribute of a faithful wight Who knows thy worth, and far esteems it more Than the rich diamond from Golconda's store. -:o:- He who does good to another does also good to himself — not only in the act but in the consciousness of well-doing is his reward. MISCELLANEOUS. 383 Spite of all the fools that pride has made, Tis not on man a useless burthen laid: Pride has ennobled some, and some disgraced; It hurts not in itself, but as 'tis placed; When right, its views know none but virtue's bound; When wrong, it scarcely looks one inch around. Duty has pleasures with no satiety; Duties fulfilled are always pleasures to the memory; Duty makes pleasure doubly sweet by contrast. Round went the book, and here it came, In it for me to write my name; I would write better, if I could, But Nature said I never should. There are ten thousand tones and signs We hear and see, but none defines — Involuntary sparks of thought ' Which strike from out the heart o'erwrought, And form a strange intelligence Alike mysterious and intense; Which link the burning chain that binds Without their will, young hearts and minds, Conveying, as the electric wire. We know not how, the absorbing fire. He ought not to pretend to friendship's name, Who reckons not himself and friend the same. 384 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. The love of praise, how'er concealed by art, Reigns, more or less, and glows in every heart: The proud to gain it toils on toils endure. The modest shun it but to make it sure. Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind, What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is pride, the never-faihng vice of fools. When two friends part, they should lock up one another's secrets, and interchange their keys. In future years should trusted friends Depart like summer birds; And all the comfort memory lends, Is false and honeyed words, Turn then to me, who fain would prove However thy lot be cast, That naught his heart can ever move From friendship of the past. A FRIEND is gold: if true, he'll never leave thee; Yet both, without a touchstone, may deceive thee. Let us try to be happy; we may if we will Find some pleasure in life to o'erbalance the ill. There was never an evil, if well understood, But what, rightly managed, would turn to a good. MISCELLANEOUS. 385 The soul of music slumbers in the shell, Till wak'd and kindled by the master's spell; And feeling hearts — touch them but lightly— pour A thousand melodies unheard before. May all go well with you! May life's short day glide on peaceful and bright, with no more clouds than may glisten in the sunshine, no more rain than may form a rainbow; and may the veiled one of heaven bring us to meet again. I THINK of thee when morning springs From sleep, with plumage bath'd in dew; And, like a young bird, lifts its wings Of gladness on the welkin blue: And when, at noon, the breath of love O'er flower and stream is wandering free, And sent in music from the grove, I think of thee — I think of thee. I think of thee, when, soft and wide. The evening spreads her robes of light, And, like a young and timid bride, Sits blushing in the arms of night: And when the moon's sweet crescent springs In light o'er heaven's wide waveless sea. And stars are forth, like blessed things. I think of thee — I think of thee, 386 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Favor is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord she shall be praised. — Prov. XXXI, 30. :o: There's not a look — a word — of thine My soul hath e'er forgot: Thou ne'er hast bid a ringlet shine, Nor given thy locks one graceful twine, Which I remember not. Man hath a weary pilgrimage, As through the world he wends; On every stage, from youth to age, Still discontent attends. With heaviness he casts his eye Jpon the road before, And still remembers, with a sigh, The days that are no more. Purchase not friends by gifts. When thou ceasest to give, such will cease to love. Our lives are albums written through With good or ill — with false or true — And, as the blessed angels turn The pages of our years, God grant they read the good with smiles, And blot the bad with tears. MISCELLANEOUS. 387 I WOULD add a fresh flower to the varied bouquet That blushes and blooms in these pages to-day; But I fear that my efforts could only succeed In producing a coarse and valueless weed That some gardener — cold critic, from pity exempt — • Might uproot, and then throw it aside with contempt. Look upward and onward. We learn to climb by keeping our eyes, not on the valleys that lie behind, but on the mountains that rise before us. Let us be kind to each other! The night's coming on, When friend and when brother Perchance may be gone! Then, midst our dejection. How sweet to have earned The blest recollection Of kindness returned. Commend but sparingly whom thou dost love; But less condemn whom thou dost not approve; Thy friend, like flattery, too much praise doth wrong, And too sharp censure shows an evil tongue. Oh, reason not the need; our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous; Allow not nature more than nature needs; Man's life is cheap as beast's. 388 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Friendship is power and riches all to me; Friendship's another element of life; Water and fire not of more general use To the support and comfort of the world Than Friendship to the being of my joy; I would do everything to serve a friend. :o: — Tn the evening of life, cherish the remembrance of those who loved thee in its morning. The saints will aid, if men will call; For the blue sky bends over all. :o: A GENTLE word is never lost; Oh! never, then, refuse one; It cheers the heart when tempest-tossed, And lulls the cares that bruise one; It scatters sunshine o'er our way, And turns our thorns to roses; It changes weary night and day, And hope and love discloses. At your command these artless numbers flow (Tho' verdant laurels ne'er will crown my brow); Unskillful, yet submissive, I obey, Pleased with my task, since you direct my lay. Oh, mny iTiy lines an easy freedom gain — Truthful each note, and gentle every strain.. MISCELLANEOUS. 389 Beware of sudden friendship; 'tis a flower That thrives but in the sun; its bud is fair, And it may blossom in the summer hour, But winter's withering tempests will not bear. True Friendship is a tree, whose lasting strength Is slow of growth, but proves, whate'er befall, Through life our hope and haven, and at length Yields but to death — the power that conquers all. Within this book, so pure and white, Let none but friends presume to write; And may each line with friendship given, Direct the reader's thoughts to heaven. Eve, With all the fruits of Eden blest Save only one, rather than leave That one unknown, lost all the rest. Learn to win a lady's faith Nobly, as the thing is high; Bravely, as for life and death, With a loyal gravity. Lead her from the festive boards. Point her to the starry skies, Guard her by your truthful words. Pure from courtship's flatteries. May that love which has always existed grow stronger. 390 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. And on, with many a step of pain, Our weary race is sadly run; And still, as on we plod our way. We find, as life's gay dreams depart, To close our being's troubled day, Nought left us but a broken heart. Have Hope. Though clouds environ now, And gladness hides her face in scorn. Put thou the shadow from thy brow; No night but hath its morn. I AM as constant as the northern star — Of whose true fixed and resting quality, There is no fellow in the firmament. :o: -^ When winsome , beautiful and young, Rolls the soft accents from her tuneful tongue, In admiration stand the list'ners round, And feel the spell of beauty and of sound. The miser, rapt, forgets the gainful plan — The beau his compliments, and the coquette her fan. E'en 's tongue yields to her wondering ear. And deigns for once another's voice to hear. Such power has music when with beauty joined; Not to be charmed, is to be deaf and blind. :o; Friendship is a strong and habitual inclination in two persons to promote the good and happiness of each other. MISCELLANEOUS. 391 Not to go back is somewhat to advance. Maiden, through every change the same Sweet semblance thou may'st wear; Ay, scorch thy very soul with shame, Thy brow may still be fair; But if thy lovely cheek forget The rose of purer years, — Say, does not memory sometimes wet That changeless cheek with tears? Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys and fears; To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. Care that is entered once into the breast, Will have the whole possession ere it rest. Beautiful! Yes, but the blush will fade. The light grow dim which the blue eyes wear; The gloss will vanish from curl and braid, And the sunbeam die in the waving hair. Turn from the mirror, and strive to win Treasures of loveliness still to last; Gather earth's glory and bloom within, That the soul may be bright when youth is past. 392 AUTOGRAPH- ALBUM VERSES. A SMOOTH sea never made a skillful mariner. Her cheek had the pale pearly pink Of sea-shells, the world's sweetest tint, as though She lived, one-half might deem on roses sopp'd In silver dew. Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman; For though they gang a kennie wrang, To step aside is human. As o'er the cold sepulchral stone Some name arrests the passer-by, Thus, when thou view'st this page alone, May mine attract thy pensive eye! And when by thee that name is read, Perchance in some succeeding year. Reflect on me as on the dead, And think my heart is buried here. :o: Oh, as the bee upon the flower, I hang Upon the honey of thy eloquent tongue. That ye might walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing, being beautiful in every good work, and increasing in the knowledge of God, is the wish of your friend. MISCELLANEOUS. 393 He is a coward who will not turn back, When first he discovers he's on the wrong track. There's beauty all around our paths, If but our watchful eyes Can trace it midst familiar things And through their lowly guise. Think much, speak little, write with care. Within the oyster's shell uncouth The purest pearl may hide; Trust me you'll find a heart of truth Within that rough outside. 'Tis the mind that makes the body rich: And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, So honor appeareth in the meanest habit. :o: Yours sincerely, in the bonds of friendship. :o: What doth the poor man's son inherit? Stout muscles and a sinewy heart; A hardy frame, a hardier spirit; King of two hands, he does his part In every useful toil and art; A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. 394 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. A LITTLE body often harbors a great soul. :o: Tis not the fairest form that holds The mildest, purest soul within; 'Tis not the richest plant that folds The sv/eetest breath of fragrance in. Get but the truth once uttered, and 'tis like A star new-born, that drops into its place, And which, once circling in its placid sound, Not all the tumult of the earth can shake. Be good, do good, and you will be happy. Joy's opening buds, affection's glowing flowers, Once lightly sprang within thy beaming track. O! life was beautiful in those lost hours! And yet you cannot wish to wander back; Nay! thou may'st love in loneliness to think On pleasures past, though never more to be; Hope links thee to the future, but the link That binds thee to the past is memory. Of all the passions that possess mankind. The love of novelty rules most the mind: In search of this, from realm to realm we roam Our fleets come fraught with ev'ry folly home. MISCELLANEOUS. 395 The heart that is deceived or betrayed need not augment its anguish by self-reproach. The book of Nature, and the print Of beauty on the whispering sea, Give aye to me some Hneament Of what I have been taught to be. My heart is harder, and perhaps My manliness hath drunk up tears; And there's a mildew in the lapse Of a few swift and chequer'd years; But Nature's book is even yet With all my mother's lessons writ. :o: Friendship, which, once determined, never swerves; Weighs ere it trusts, but weighs not ere it serves; And soft-eyed Pity, and Forgiveness bland, And melting Charity, with open hand; And artless love, believing and believed; And honest Confidence, which ne'er deceived; And Mercy, stretching out ere Want can speak, To wipe the tear which stains Affliction's cheek. Thick waters show no images of things; Friends arc each other's mirrors, and should be Clearer than crystal or the mountain springs. And free from cloud, design, or flattery. For vulgar souls no part of friendship share; Poets and friends are born to what they are. 396 AUTOGRAPH-ALBVM VERSES. Bright sunny hope, thy radiant beam Smiles sweetly on life's troubled dream. Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, When our mother Nature laughs around? When even the blue deep heavens look glad, And gladness blooms from the blossoming ground? Music! — Oh, how faint, how weak. Language fades before thy spell! Why should feeling ever speak When thou canst breathe her soul so well? Friendship's balmy words may feign, — Love's are e'en more false than they! Oh, 'tis only music's strain Can sweetly soothe, and not betray! Useful and steady may thy life proceed, Mild every word, Good-natured every deed. Never with one thou lovest contend, But bear a thousand frailties From your friend. When the world has spent its frowns and wrath, And cares are sorely pressing, 'Tis sweet to turn from our roving path, And find a fireside blessing. MISCELLANEOUS. 397 What's in a name? That which we call a rose; By any other name would smell as sweet. In the course of our reading we should lay up in our minds a store of goodly thoughts in well- wrought words, which shall be a living treasure of knowledge always with us, and from which, at vari- ous times, and amidst all the shifting circumstances, we might be sure of drawing some comfort, guid- ance and sympathy. :o: One long sweet spring be thine With buds still bursting forth, Fresh blossoms every hour, And verdure fair and new. Peace be thy gentle guest, Peace, holy and divine, God's blessed sunlight still Upon thy pathway shine. Well chosen friendship, the most noble Of virtues, all our joys makes double, And into halves divides our trouble. As sunshine and rain, pleasure and pain. Each day on some must fall. So the wise thing to do, if we only knew, Is to make the best of it all. 398 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. The older the ruin, the greener the moss. The older the friendship, the keener the loss. 'TiS beauty that doth make woman proud, 'Tis virtue that doth make her most admired, 'Tis modesty that makes her seem divine. :o: What will it matter, By and by, Whether our path below was bright, Whether it shone through dark or light — Under a gray or golden sky — What will it matter, By and by? :o: The little bee so silently Gathers honey from the flower, So may you as quietly Find pleasure in each hour. If I should make a wish for you it would be this: I wish you a large share of success in your pursuit of happiness; may your efforts in the direction of right bring abundant reward. I would not wish your pathway to be over flowers only; God made the rose and thorn to go together; let us not separ- ate them, but with you may the roses be many and the thorns few. MISCELLANEOUS. 399 Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor ne'er can be. :o: How music charms! How meter warms! Parent of actions good and brave! How vice it tames. And worth inflames, And holds proud empire o'er the grave! :o: May you always have a full share. With a surplus on the shelf, And ever be ready to share With those who have less than yourself. But the gentlest of all are those sounds full of feel- ing, That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing,— Some lover who knows all the heart-touching power Of a lute and a sigh in the magical hour. -.o: There is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy, No chemic art can counterfeit; It makes men rich in greatest poverty. Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold. The homely whistle to sweet music's strain; Seldom it comes — to few from Heaven sent — That much in little— all in nought — Content. 400 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, To soften rocks, and bend the knotted oak On this page of your album I scribble. Now, remember, no critic must see, But once in a while peep at it yourself, Then remember 'twas scribbled by me Have Faith. Where'er thy bark is driven. The calm's disport, the tempest's mirth — Know this. God rules the hosts of heaven. The inhabitants of earth. Yes, I have left the golden shore. Where childhood 'midst the roses play'd: Those sunny dreams will come no more, That youth a long bright Sabbath made. Yet while those dreams of memory's eye Arise in many a ghttering train, My soul goes back to infancy, And hears my mother's song again! :o: Perform your duties without fear. Will make your pathway bright and clear; Falter, stop, and leave undone, Will make it like the clouded sun. A GOOD name is rather to be chosen than great riches. MISCELLANEOUS. 401 Sweet Is the image of the brooding dove! Holy as heaven a mother's tender love! The love of many prayers, and many tears, Which changes not with dim declining years, — The only love, which, on this teeming earth, Asks no return for passion's wayward birth. "Life is real — life is earnest; And the heroine in the strife Is the one who leaves the future — Living but the present life — Lives it truly, nobly, grandly, Thus prepares for coming fate. Strives to make her living perfect; — Learns to labor and to wait. It never pays to wreck the health In drudging after gain; And he is sold who thinks that gold The cheapest bought with pain. An humble lot, A cosy cot, Have tempted even kings; For station high. That wealth will buy, Not oft contentment brings. As perfume is to the rose, so is good nature to the lovely. 402 AUTOGRAPH- ALBUM VERSES. The violet droops its soft and bashful brow, But from its heart sweet incense fills the air So rich within — so pure without — art thou, With modest mien and soul of virtue rare. Faith is the star that gleams above, Hope is the flower that buds below; Twin tokens of celestial love That out from Nature's bosom grow; And still alike, in sky, on sod, That star and blossom ever point to God. The moon! She is the source of sighs, The very face to make us sad, — If but to thing in other times The same calm quiet look she had. Longest joys won't last forever — Make the most of every day; Youth and beauty Time will sever, But Content hath no decay. :o: When things don't go to suit you. And the world seems upside down, Don't waste your time in fretting, But drive away the frown. God give you many days, and may your whole life be spotless and pure, giving beauty through all the changes, even when the leaf has turned brown and the fruit has ripened. MISCELLANEOUS. 403 Hours are golden links — God's token — Reaching heaven but one by one; Take them, lest the chain be broken Ere thy pilgrimage be done. :o: Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not, — Love may sink by slow decay; But by sudden wrench, believe not Hearts can thus be torn away. Old friends and true friends! Don't talk to me of new friends; The old are the best. Who stand the test. Who book their name as through friends. :o: Friend after friend departs; Who hath not lost a friend? There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end. Were this frail world our only rest. Living or dying, none were blest. Thus star by star declines, Till all are passed away, As morning high and higher shines To pure and perfect day; Nor sink those stars in empty night, They lose themselves in heaven's own light. 404 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Ye are stars of the night, ye are gems of the morn, Ye are dewdrops whose lustre illumines the thorn; And rayless that night is, that morning unblest. When no beams in your eye light up peace in the breast. And the sharp thorn of sorrow sinks deep in the heart, Till the sweet lip of Woman assuages the smart; Tis hers o'er the couch of misfortune to bend In fondness a lover, in firmness a friend; And prosperity's hour, be it ever confessed, From Woman receives both refinement and zest; And adorn'd by the bays or enwreath'd with the willow, Her smile is our meed, and her bosom our pillow. Age and youth both have their dreams. Youth looks at the possible age, age at the probable. :o: Contentment is a pearl of great price, and whoever procures it at the expense of ten thousand desires, makes a wise and happy purchase. There is seldom a line of glory written upon earth's face, but a line of suffering runs parallel with it; and they that read the lustrous syllables of the one, and stoop not to decipher the spotted and worn inscription of the other, get the least half of the les- son that earth has to give. MISCELLANEOUS. 405 Why do I weep? To leave the vine Whose clusters o'er me bend; The myrtle — yet, oh, call it mine! — The flowers I lov'd to tend. A thousand thoughts of all things dear, Like shadows o'er me sleep; I leave my sunny childhood here, — Oh, therefore let me weep! How brilliant and mirthful the Hght of her eye, Like a star glancing out from the blue of the sky! The tissues of the Life to be, We weave with colors all our own; And in the field of Destiny, We reap as we have sown. Honor thy parents, to prolong thine end; With them, though for a truth, do not contend; Though all should truth defend, do thou lose rather The truth awhile, than lose their love forever; Whoever makes his father's heart to bleed, Shall have a child that will revenge the deed. While the fading flowers of pleasure, Spring spontaneous from the soil; Thou wilt find the harvest's treasure Yields alone to patient toil. 406 AUTOGRAPH- ALBUM VERSES. The light of friendship, Hke phosphorus, is seen most plainly when all around is dark. -:o: The means that heaven yields must be embrac'd, And not neglected; else, if heaven would, And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse. The proffer'd means of succor and redress. Ask the poor pilgrim on this rude world cast. His grizzled locks distorted in the blast; Ask him what accent soothes, what hand bestows The cordial bev'rage, garment and repose. O, he will dart a spark of ancient flame, And clasp his tremulous hands, and Woman name. Peruse the sacred volume; Him who died Her kiss betray'd not, nor her tongue denied; While even the Apostle left Him to His doom. She linger'd round His cross and watched His tomb. Gems of price are deeply hidden 'Neath the rugged rocks concealed ; What would ne'er come forth unbidden, To thy search may be revealed. Miss not the occasion: by the forelock take That subtle Power, the never-halting Time, Lest a mere moment's putting-off should make Mischance almost as heavy as a crime. MISCELLANEOUS 407 In times of prosperity our friends are many, But the time of adversity tries and proves them. Opinion is that high and mighty dame Which rules the world: and in the mind doth frame Distaste or liking; for in human race, She makes the fancy various as the face. How much there is self-will would do, Were it not for the dire dismay That bids ye shrink as ye suddenly think Of" what will my neighbors say? The sunshine of the heart be mine, That beams a charm around; Where'er it sheds its ray divine, Is all enchanted ground! No fiend of care may enter there, Tho' Fate employ her art — Her power, tho' mighty, bows to thine! Bright sunshine of the heart! Do all the good you can. To all the people you can, In all the ways you can, Just as long as you can :o: May there be just clouds enough o'er your life to cause a glorious sunset. 408 AUTOQllAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Thy beauty, not a fault is there! No queen of Grecian line E'er braided more luxuriant hair O'er forehead more divine! The light of midnight's starry heaven Is in those radiant eyes, — The rose's crimson life has given That check its glowing dies. And yet I love thee not: thy brow Is but the sculptor's mould; It wants a shade — it wants a glow — It is less fair than cold. :o: If you have found the "pearl of great price, "all the bliss of heaven will be yours. :o: Accomplishments were native to her mind, Like precious pearls within a clasping shell; And winning grace her every act refined, Like sunshine shedding beauty where it fell. :o: Strive to keep the "Golden Rule," And learn your lessons well at school. :o: In this wide world, the fondest and the best Are the most tried, most troubled, and distressed. We could count time by heart-throbs; he most lives who thinks most, speaks the noblest, acts the best. MISCELLANEOUS. 409 Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend Under thine own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never taxed for speech. The proudest motto for the young, — Write it in lines of gold Upon thy heart, and in thy mind The stirring words enfold; And in misfortune's dreary hour, Or fortune's prosperous gale, 'Twill have a holy, cheering power, — "There's no such word as fail!'' The massive gates of circumstance Are turned upon the slightest hinge. And thus some seeming pettiest chance, Oft gives the life its after tinge. Alas! why sit I here, committing jokes On social pleasures and good-humor'd folks, That see far better with their trusting eyes. Than all the blinkings of the would-be wise? Albums are, after all, pleasant inventions, [tions. Make friends more friendly, grace one's good inten- Brighten dull names, give great ones kinder looks. Nay, now and then produce right curious books. And make the scoffer (now the case with me) Blush to look round on deathless company. 410 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. To persevere in one's duty and be silent, is the best answer to calumny. Will I not in your album write? Yes, , on this spotless page The Muse may trace in colors bright Some lesson worthy of a sage. 'Tis not in heavy tomes alone That wisdom's maxims may be known. The pale star, fading in the skies, May preach a sermon to the heart; The flower that blossoms and then dies May tell how loved ones meet and part; The streams meand'ring to the sea May guide us to eternity. We ourselves shape the joy and fears Of which the life to come is made, And fill our future atmosphere With sunshine or with shade. Stick to your aim! The mongrel's hold will slip But only crowbars loose the bulldog's lip! Small as he looks, the jaw that never yields Drags down the bellowing monarch of the fields. :o: Alas! too well, too well they know The pain, the penitence, the woe That passion brings down on the best, The wisest, and the loveliest. MISCELLANEOUS. 411 Fling wide the portals of your heart! Make it a temple set apart From earthly use, for Heaven's employ — Adorned with prayer and love and joy; So shall your Sovereign enter in And new and noble life begin. :o: Oh, Passion's words are faithless things, And Love disowns them ere they fall; It is the reckless tongue that stings, The tongue that knows not reason's thrall. :o: The brave man is not he who feels no fear, For that were stupid and irrational ; But he whose noble soul its fears subdues, And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from. To Woman, whose best books are human hearts, Wise Heaven a genius less profound imparts; His awful — hers is lovely; his should tell How thunderbolts, and hers how roses fell. Her rapid mind decides while his debates; She feels a truth that he but calculates. He, provident, averts approaching ill; She snatches present good with ready skill. That active perseverance his, which gains; And hers, that passive patience which sustains. Those that want friends must show themselves friendly. 412 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Our lives are rivers, gliding free To that unfathom'd, boundless sea, The silent grave! Thither all earthly pomp and boast Roll, to be swallow'd up and lost In one dark wave. Every young man is now a sower of seed on the field of life. The bright days of youth are the seed- time. Every thought of your intellect, every emo- tion of your heart, every word of your tongue; every principle you adopt, every act you perform, is a seed whose good or evil fruit will prove bliss or bane of your after life. There are a thousand nameless ties, Which only those who feel them know,— Of kindred thoughts, deep sympathies. And untold fancy spells, which throw O'er ardent minds and faithful hearts A chain, whose charmed links so blend That the light circlet but imparts Its force in these fond words — MY FRIEND. :o: — As jewels encased in a casket of gold, Where the richest of treasure we hide, So our purest of thoughts lie deep and untold, Like the gems that are under the tide. MISCELLANEOUS. 413 Thus as these lines I slowly trace Across this spotless page, Will time all earthly things efface, And passing leave behind no trace But the vile dusts of age; But truth and virtue mounting high, Shall heavenward wing their flight, And shine forever from the sky Beyond the gems of night. The friend Who smiles when smoothing down the lonely couch, And does kind deeds, which any one can do Who has a feeling spirit — such a friend Heals with a searching balsam. God's noblest works are honest men, Says Pope's instructive line; To make a lovely woman, then, Must surely be divine. I WOULD not enter on my list Of friends the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. An inadvertent step may crush the snail That crawls at evening in the public path; But he that has humanity, forewarned, Will tread aside and let the reptile live. 414 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. Oh, let my friendship in the wreath, Though but a bud among the flowers, Its sweetest fragrance round thee breathe, - '1 will serve to soothe thy weary hours, — :o: With leaden foot time creeps along, While is away; With her, nor plaintive was the song, Nor tedious was the day. Ah! envious power! reverse my doom, Nor double thy career; Strain every nerve, stretch every plume. And rest them when she's here. :o: Cast thy bread upon the waters, Out upon the waves alone. You will find it drifted to thee, After many days have flown. Ever hoping and enduring, Ever prayerful on the way, May you reach the golden entrance Opening on eternal day. May no sorrow distress thy days, May no griefs disturb thy nights; May the pillow of peace kiss thy cheek, And the pleasure of realization attend thy beau- tiful dreams. MISCELLANEOUS. 415 Friendship, like love, is but a name, Unless to one you stint the flame. The child, whom many father's share, Hath seldom known a father's care. 'Tis thus in friendships: who depend On many, rarely find a friend. Help somebody worse off than yourself, and you will find you are better off than you fancied. So live, so act, that every hour, May die as dies the natural flower, A self-reviving thing of power; That every word and every deed, May bear within itself the seed Of future good in future need. :o: Let others sing the toils of state, That ceaseless urge the aspiring great; Others again, in pompous verse. The warrior's actions may rehearse; Me the soft god of soft desires A gentler theme of verse inspires; Of 's charms he bids me sing, And strike for her the trembling string. Forgive me, gentle god of love, If once I disobedient prove, Of 's charms how can I sing? Too low my voice, too weak the string! 416 AUTOGRAPH-ALBUM VERSES. If we were but as ready to look to the light, As we are to sit moping because it is night, We would own it a truth, both in word and in deed, That who tries to be happy is sure to succeed. One by one thy griefs will meet thee. Do not fear an armed band; One will fade as others greet thee, Shadows passing through the land. :o: Beware of doubt! Faith is the subtle chain Which binds us to the Infinite: the voice Of a deep life within, that will remain Until we crowd it thence. :o: Of all the gifts which heaven bestows. There is one above all measure. And that's a friend; 'midst all our woes A friend is found a treasure. To thee I give this sacred name, For thou art such to me, And ever proudly will I claim To be a friend of thee. THE END. « ; ^ " , V ^ ^ <, s "^ .'^ -^J. ^'' % cV- H '^ ,% -c.