y 
 
 U 
 
 P 
 
A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY ^ 
 
 MRS. ENOCH TAYLOR. 
 
 CINCINNATI : 
 
 Robert Clarke & Co., Print. 
 1878. 
 
 
 
T3^ 
 
 COPYRIGHTED. 
 
 MRS. ENOCH TAYLOR. 
 
 1878. 
 
TO 
 
 » M.Y Dear Five Hundred." 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 A-Naughty-Biographt, . . .7 
 
 My Childhood, 7 
 
 School Life, 20 
 
 Girlhood, . 38 
 
 A " Good-Bye "-ograph}'-, ... 56 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 The Village Belle, 61 
 
 St. Valentine's Day, 65 
 
 The Rainy Day, 67 
 
 Autumn, 68 
 
 October, 69 
 
 Love's Longings, 70 
 
 She Sleeps Beneath the Roses, . . .72 
 
 November, 73 
 
 Gone Blind, 75 
 
 Lines Written by the Seaside, . . 77 
 
 Twenty Summers, 80 
 
 Chiding "Love's Chidings," ... 81 
 
 Found Drowned,- ...... 83 
 
 The Dark Days of Winter, ... 87 
 
 The Song of the Slush^ .... 89 
 
 (v) 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 Betrayed, 91 
 
 Summer Sightngs, 96 
 
 Our Baby 97 
 
 Cremation, 98 
 
 Response by Cindrella, .... 100 
 
 Answer by Author, 100 
 
 Alone, 102 
 
 A Critique on the Morris Lyceum, . .105 
 
 Night's Phases, 114 
 
 The Foundling, 116 
 
 The New Year 121 
 
 Spring Specialties, 123 
 
 Music, 124 
 
 The Fair Ape of Phila., .... 126 
 
 Decoration Ode, 128 
 
 The Honeymoon, 130 
 
 The Model Man, . . . . . 131 
 
 The Stricken South, ..... 137 
 
 "If ever I Cease to Love, . . . 139 
 
 An Appeal for the Memphis Orphans, . 141 
 
 Waiting for Frost, 143 
 
 October, 145 
 
 George Francis Train, 146 
 
 Washington's Birthday, .... 149 
 
 Adieu to "My Dear Five Hundred," . . 152 
 
A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 MY mFAKCY. 
 
 Full forty years have passed and gone, 
 Since early on a winter's morn, 
 My infant eyes first struck the light. 
 At once I showed my baby-spite, 
 To find my new abode so plain, 
 And half resolved I 'd not remain , 
 If I had unexpected come. 
 And found this unpretending home, 
 I might the negligence excused, 
 But now I felt I w^as abused. 
 
 For half a year the fact was known 
 That I was on the road to town, 
 And all the neighbors, far and near. 
 Said, " Doctor'd bring a baby here." 
 
 (7) 
 
8 A-NAUGIITY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 And SO I came at dawn of day^ 
 A-crying, too, I've heard tbem say, 
 And foand few preparations made — 
 I Ve often wondered that I staved. 
 
 Plain petticoats and nntrimmed slips, 
 
 Pewter spoons that scratched my lips, 
 
 A cradle made of painted pine, 
 
 That rocked so rough it made me whine; 
 
 Then three long hours every day 
 
 The colic checked my baby play; 
 
 For months this griping kept me riled, 
 
 And nearly set my mother wild. 
 
 At last our troubles seemed to wane, 
 I thought I 'd bid adieu to pain. 
 When teething time, with all its pangs. 
 Commenced its course with piercing 
 
 twangs ; 
 My mother 'd walk the floor by day— 
 My pa by night, I've heard them say. 
 
 My father, jolly, good, and kind, 
 Would often half make up his mind 
 
MY INFANCY. 9 
 
 To slap me soniiclly if I cried, 
 
 But his heart would fail hira when he 
 
 tried, 
 And as he tossed aud dandled me 
 In drowsiness u[ion liis knee, 
 They say the more lie nursed and tried. 
 The more I always screamed and cried, 
 And often would each soul ahirm 
 Upon onr little one-horse farm. 
 
 These tibials lasted just a year. 
 
 The coast again seemed getting-clear, 
 
 VYhen all at once the whooping-cough 
 
 Attacked and nearly took me off. 
 
 For nine long weeks I whooped and 
 
 choked. 
 While mother nursed and father joked — 
 He was always great to jest and pun, 
 And turn all troubles into fun — 
 He said the crisis now was here, 
 And we had nothing worse to fear. 
 
 Alas ! his jesting hopes were vain. 
 The whooping-cough did not remain, 
 
10 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 But measles next came breaking out, 
 The pimples showing, little doubt, 
 Another seige was mine to bear. 
 " To all the ills that flesh was heir," 
 I felt my infant lot was given. 
 And reallj^ wished I was in heaven. 
 
 But quiet comfort did arrive, 
 And I began to grow and thrive, 
 And ma and pa could take their rest, 
 And thought themselves supremely blest. 
 Just then I first began to talk ; 
 At later date, I karned to walk ; 
 But stammered out my early say, 
 And stumbled on ray infant way. 
 Till one bright morn in early June, 
 A baby " brought in a balloon," 
 Unjoin ts m.y little Grecian nose, 
 My infant ire at once arose. 
 
 Our family now was much too large 
 And then it was a fearful charo^e 
 
 _ J 
 
MY INFANCY. 11 
 
 For mother, who had much to do. 
 
 I 'd try to put the baby through. 
 
 I'd feel its tiny foot, aud sly 
 
 Would pinch or scratch, and make it cry. 
 
 Or rub its head, with Jook so meek. 
 
 And pull its hair or pinch its cheek; 
 
 And mother would at once beo^in 
 
 To look for the offending pin. 
 
 That made the " baby waby " shriek, 
 
 Ne'er dreamino; it was Bessie's freak. 
 
 So, at the early age of three. 
 
 Being bad as bad could be, 
 
 I never w^as a minute mute. 
 
 And people thought me smart and cute; 
 
 The baby was, I 'm glad to say. 
 
 More good and quiet in its way — 
 
 I^ot half the trouble I had been — 
 
 Unless I stuck it with a pin, 
 
 Or rocked it hard, and made it cry, 
 
 You scarce would know the babe was by. 
 
 So time rolled on, and I intent 
 
 On infant mischief, came and went, 
 
12 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Till little sister learned to talk. 
 'T was I that tauglit her first to walk; 
 She'd tumble down — I'd pull her through 
 And scold her well, and shake her too. 
 Then she would totter on and cry, 
 While I would chase a butterfly, 
 And leave her standing in the lane, 
 A-wondering when I'd come again. 
 
 Around the barn we used to roam. 
 
 Or any place away from home; 
 
 We hand-in-hand would tramp and play, 
 
 From early morn till close of day. 
 
 Upsetting all the honest nests 
 
 That enter[>rising hens possessed. 
 
 And loving little ducks to death, 
 
 And out of chickens squeeze the breath, 
 
 Till mother dcomeand frown and fuss, 
 
 And father, too, to save a muss. 
 
 Then homeward bound you 'd see us go, 
 The family party in a row, 
 But I was nearly always last, 
 For when my penitence was past, 
 
MY INFANCY. 13 
 
 I stopped at times upon tlie way, 
 
 To tinisli m}'- neglected play ; 
 
 And father laughed and mother 'd scold 
 
 About the black sheep of the fold. 
 
 Thus matters stood when I was five, 
 
 The hardest little case alive. 
 
 We spent the hottest summer days 
 
 Working hard at baby-plays. 
 
 Making pies of mud and clay, 
 
 Hauling sand and dirt away ; 
 
 Through grass and puddles we would 
 
 wade. 
 Till we a hill or ditch had made. 
 With muddy dresses, towsled hair. 
 And dirty faces, we 'd repair 
 From lane to road, from road to lane. 
 Through dirt and dust, through sun and 
 
 rain . 
 
 Our infant lives were passing by. 
 When all at once, we scarce knew why, 
 A shadow came upon our home. 
 And all our household tilled with gloom. 
 
14 A-NAUGHTY- BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Our father, ever good and kind, 
 "Was taken from our midst, to find 
 A better home beyond the skies, 
 Which lasting happiness supplies, 
 And mother and five little ones 
 "Were left to tread the world alone. 
 
 But blessings came from every friend 
 That could a kind assistance lend; 
 Our lot, though lonely, sad, and scant. 
 Was brightened and relieved from want, 
 For kindred hearts^ with willing hand, 
 Gave shelter to our orphan band. 
 Our home, of course, must scattered be 
 To suit the sad emergency. 
 Our little circle's severed ties 
 Dimmed my mother's loving eyes, 
 But still her grateful heart was glad 
 To know the help and hope we had. 
 
 I thought in this extremity, 
 There 'd be a wondrous rush for me. 
 That I'd be claimed by all our kin. 
 But found myself quite taken in. 
 
MY INFANCY. 15 
 
 My coantiy aimts took all the rest, 
 
 Though, after all, we fared the best. 
 
 The oldest boy, my brother Joe, 
 
 Who helped my father plough and hoe, 
 
 Was my especial pet and pride, 
 
 New, since hrother Sam had died. 
 
 So, when my city aunt arrived 
 To take her pick, at once, I strived 
 To be selected as her choice. 
 For Joe was pet among the hoys, 
 And then we could together go. 
 The city sights each other show. 
 
 So, sore enough, our aunty came 
 A-riding grandly up the lane. 
 And caught me in my dishabille, 
 Much against my wayw^ard will ; 
 For I had hoped she 'd find me clean. 
 That she might then and there have seen 
 How well I'd look in city guise. 
 Why did she take me by surprise ? 
 
1(3 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 The Diamond State was then our home, 
 
 And aunty came from Quakerdom, 
 
 A-lookirig prim and quite severe, 
 
 But still, I felt I need n't fear, 
 
 For I had much to recommend 
 
 My ladyship, you may depend. 
 
 1 dressed myself with special care, 
 
 And put on quite a company air: 
 
 And, strutting past my maiden aunt, 
 
 I wondered what more she could want ; 
 
 She put h.er specs upon her nose, 
 
 And closelv scanned mv country clothes. 
 
 And asked if I was always good ; 
 
 E'ever naughty, pert, or rude. 
 
 I shunned her kind hut searching eye, 
 
 And half resolved, I 'd not reply. 
 
 As I had nothing good to tell, 
 
 My silence might do just as well. 
 
 I thought she'd find out, soon enough, 
 
 My manners were a little rough, 
 
 And did not w^ant to disenchant 
 
 My new-made friend, and city aunt. 
 
MY INFANCY. 17 
 
 SO; looking meek and kind of shy, 
 I paused, before I made reply ; 
 Then told her sometimes I was had, 
 But blamed the company that I had ; 
 'Twas never any fault of mine, 
 If ever I cut up a shine, 
 And any mischief that was done 
 Was nearly always just for fun. 
 
 So aunty smiled, and hoped I'd be 
 
 A little hidy, and she'd see 
 
 If she could take me up to town. 
 
 And try to tone my manners down. 
 
 I then, at once, desired to know, 
 
 If she couldn't take my brother, Joe. 
 
 She said she rather thought she would, 
 
 If both would promise to be good. 
 
 So off, in haste, I quickly ran, 
 
 To tell of aunty's pleasant plan. 
 
 To dream of city's new delights, 
 
 And think of all the wondrous sights 
 
 That soon would greet our verdant eyes 
 
 And fill our hearts with glad surprise. 
 
18 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 So, then we soon began to pack — 
 Our outfit most was on our back — 
 Our trunks and traps were small and few, 
 Which, fortunately, aunty knew. 
 
 So, on a balmy, summer day, 
 "We all prepared to start away 
 To leave our home and mother, kind, 
 Aud in the world our lot to find ; 
 When will life ever seem as bright 
 As that receding from our sight? 
 So, slowly riding down the lane 
 We ne'er could call our own again, 
 Poor mother wept in silent woe. 
 But thought it best for us to go. 
 
 So, next you'll see the orphan pair 
 In the midst of city's stifled air; 
 ]^o fields, no lanes, no trees to climb, 
 A-wondering how we'd kill the time. 
 What earthly goods we'd gladly give, 
 To get back home again to live ! 
 Our aunty, sensible and kind. 
 Told us to leave regrets behind. 
 
MY INFANCY. 19 
 
 And, in lier wise and pleasant way. 
 Informed ns, life was not all play. 
 
 Bat cMldbood's troubles seldom last 
 Much longer than the cause is past. 
 The city soon began to be 
 A wonder and a joy to me ; 
 My aunty got me pretty clothefs 
 And taught me how to turn my toes; 
 She 'd dress me up so clean and sweet 
 And send me out into the street. 
 I 'd miss the " pies " and " puddles" there 
 And to the gutters I 'd repair, 
 And play and paddle there in glee, 
 Till I was summoned in to tea. 
 
 My vixen spirit, as of old, 
 I^ew mischief daily would unfold. 
 And aunty shuddered, as she saw 
 How little I respected law ; 
 So, wishing me to live by rule, 
 She entered me, at once, in school. 
 
20 A-NAUGHTY- BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 SCHOOL LIFE. 
 
 One Monday morn in early Fall 
 We made the nearest school a call, 
 To ascertain if they would take 
 A pupil willing to forsake 
 All mischief and frivolity, 
 And strictly stick to A, B, C. 
 
 The teacher showed a little doubt — 
 
 She saw how I began to ^Dout; 
 
 I did not like the busy looks 
 
 Of slates and pencils, chalk and books- 
 
 I felt I'd much prefer to be 
 
 A stranger to my A, B, C. 
 
 I knew more now, at any rate. 
 Than many children did at eight. 
 Then why should I, that was so smart, 
 Go learning lessons all by heart ? 
 I showed my feelings in my face. 
 And aunty, vexed at my disgrace. 
 
SCHOOL LIFE. 21 
 
 At once enrolled my nanghtj name 
 Upon the future book of fame. 
 
 I then and tliere began to climb 
 
 The hill of science ; oh ! the time 
 
 It took to teach me how to do ; 
 
 But I fought it out, and struggled through. 
 
 The teacher seldom suited me — 
 
 Indeed, we never could agree ; 
 
 Her notions always seem so queer, 
 
 I wondered why they put her there ; 
 
 And aunty, too, was odd as she, 
 
 Both seemed to be opposed to me. 
 
 I felt if ever I grew big, 
 
 I'd love to give them both a dig. 
 
 At times my patience would give out; 
 You couldn't play a bit without 
 At once, she'd raise an awful fuss — 
 A little laugh would make a muss. 
 You couldn't talk in any peace, 
 But you 'd be told at once to cease, 
 
22 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 And Jook upon your book or slate, 
 Or be kept in till awful late, 
 Yoa even couldn't turn around, 
 No matter what the sight or sound 
 That made you want to look behind — 
 You might have just as well been blind, 
 Or deaf and dumb, for all she cared — 
 She always kept you kind of scared. 
 
 'No matter what you had to saj^. 
 
 She 'd surely look another way, 
 
 And talk and teach, and teach and talk; 
 
 Slate and pencil, book and chalk; 
 
 Were ever at her finger ends — 
 
 I w^onder she had any friends. 
 
 Indeed, she hadn't mauy there. 
 
 Except the good girls round her chair. 
 
 They seemed to think her very nice; 
 
 I wished they'd taken my advice. 
 
 And never mind a word she said ; 
 
 They soon would found, what motive led 
 
 Her to appear so sweet to them. 
 
 And that she wasn't such a gem. 
 
SCHOOL LIFE. ' 
 
 She had a special spite at me, 
 The reason why I couldn't see; 
 She'd scold me soundly every day, 
 Whether I would work or play; 
 And then she'd often keep me in, 
 For just a little bit of sin, 
 That no one else would scarcely see — 
 She was just as mean as mean could be. 
 
 If it had n't been for famil}^ pride, 
 I think I 'd left that school or died ; 
 But aunty thought it best to stay, 
 And she nearlj^ always had her way. 
 So there I was for one long year. 
 And then I left without a tear. 
 I'd learned to read and write and spell, 
 Indeed, they said I studied well. 
 My failing was behaving bad. 
 At least that's what the teacher said ; 
 But she was always saying things. 
 And telling tales that trouble brings. 
 I've left her class, I'm glad to say — 
 I'll try a new one now to-day. 
 
24 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Alas, a-lack-a-daj — ah ! me, 
 
 I fear we too will disagree ; 
 
 There's much that's new I want to know. 
 
 And ask the girls if they will show 
 
 Exactly how the things are done, 
 
 Besides we want a little fun, 
 
 Just to cheer us as we learn — 
 
 The teachers are so stiff and stern, 
 
 I wouldn't be one for a farm — 
 
 They do the children so much harm ; 
 
 Though aunty said to-night at tea 
 
 That's what she's going to make of me. 
 
 I don't know what I've ever done 
 
 To her, indeed to any one. 
 
 That I should suffer such a fate. 
 
 Or learn a trade I love to hate. 
 
 I tell you what, when I get big. 
 You'll see me dance a different jig; 
 I won't be sober, staid, &,nd stern, 
 And try to make the children learn. 
 Poor little things, I'll let them be. 
 Remembering how it was with me. 
 
SCHOOL LIFE. 25 
 
 Just worry, lecture, preach, aud scold, 
 Enough to make a young one old. 
 At school and home I had no rest, 
 Was always getting blamed or blest. 
 And mostly too without a cause. 
 Just for breaking little laws, 
 That never should, by rights, been made, 
 'Not never would by Bessie's aid. 
 
 So, thus my early life was spent, 
 From class to class I yearly went ; 
 Eacb teacher seemed to be my foe, 
 Aud quite co intent to have me go ; 
 But still I had my share of fun, 
 In spite of all the scolding done. 
 In tricks and pranks I took deligbt, 
 And misbehaved with all my might ; 
 In tact and lessons I excelled. 
 Or I should long since been expelled. 
 The merits that I got to-day 
 To-m6rrow's marks would wipe away. 
 
 But, at the end of every term, 
 
 Eemorse and resolution firm 
 3 
 
26 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Would fill me with a new desire ; 
 But '' all the fat was in the fire " 
 The minute mischief crossed my way, 
 Which it, alas ! did every day. 
 
 Thus school life, with its hopes and fears — 
 At least the first short seven years — 
 Was drawing nearly to a close, 
 When, all at once, the qiiestion rose — 
 What should next he done with me. 
 The teachers gladly did agree. 
 That I should try my luck and leave — 
 The high-school might my name retrieve. 
 So I studied hard, both night and day, 
 (But leisure took for fun and play), 
 Till testing time, with questions hard, 
 Brought me my happy hope's reward. 
 I did not pass with honors high — 
 I guess you know the reason why ; 
 But still I passed, and was content. 
 And to my laurels proudly went. 
 And talked as big and looked as wise 
 As those that got the highest prize ; 
 
SCHOOL LIFE. 27 
 
 And felt it was a happy school, 
 Possessing such a precious jewel. 
 
 So, at the age of green fourteen, 
 I felt as proud as any queen. 
 A new leaf I resolved to turn, 
 And study hard and laurels earn ; 
 I stood quite high for oue so young, 
 And could I only held my tongue 
 I might have been almost a star. 
 But mischief would my merits mar ; 
 For what I gained by work and tact, 
 I'd loose by some rebellious act : 
 I sacriliced myself to fun — 
 My ablest efforts were undone 
 By some wild freak or fractured rule, 
 That put me down a dot in school. 
 
 I soon began, as heretofore. 
 To find the teachers quite a bore, 
 In interfering all the time — 
 Indeed it seems a chronic crime. 
 
28 A- NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 To be officious and prevent 
 
 The pleasures that were my intent. 
 
 They so delight in being dry 
 
 And dull and stiff. I wonder why ? 
 
 They looked with frowning doubt and 
 
 dread 
 On every thing I did and said. 
 At times they'd give a sickly smile 
 At my peculiar wayward style; 
 But in a moment they would be 
 A-pointing morals all at me. 
 
 As we were taught full forty things, 
 With names as long as corset strings, 
 And teachers stern and dignified, 
 I future punishment denied. 
 I felt w^e bad our troubles here, 
 And naught to come was aught to fear. 
 
 Away into the quiet night 
 I 'd pore and ponder by the light 
 That poets call the '' midnight oil," 
 Some crooked problem to uncoil. 
 
SCHOOL LIFE. 29 
 
 Or draw a map, or parse a verse, 
 Or write an essay, which was worse, 
 Or worry with celestial globes — 
 The very thought my bosom probes 
 With recollections full of woe. 
 What good is it for us to know 
 That Mars lias belts or Saturn rings — 
 A thousand other different things? 
 That do n't concern this world at all, 
 I^or never have since Adam's fall. 
 
 Then scanning Milton through and 
 
 through 
 Is what I did despise to do ; 
 ]^or did I care a single dime 
 If all his blank verse had been rhyme. 
 Or was awry or wrong in rhythm, 
 Or had it been with him — in Heaven. 
 That Paradise was lost I knew — 
 I never doubted it was true; 
 Then why extend the dreary tale, 
 To worry pupils — maid and male ? 
 
30 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Mythology and classic lore 
 Is such an everlasting bore. 
 
 The other poets we'd dissect, 
 
 And try their metre to correct — 
 
 And murder many of their lays 
 
 So sadl}^ that it would amaze 
 
 The sainted soul, could it but know 
 
 The scandalous scanning done below ! 
 
 Then algebra, with x and z, 
 Would always vex and puzzle me. 
 And make me wish that each equation 
 Was in the sea, with mensuration. 
 I'd sigh and cipher for an hour. 
 And long for calculating power 
 To get the cube root or the square, 
 Or puzzle out the proper share 
 That A and B would have to get 
 In value either gross or net. 
 
 Then hunting rivers, lakes, and bays, 
 And telling all their different ways 
 
SCHOOL LIFE. 31 
 
 Of rising, flowing, and their end, 
 Or with what waters they may blend; 
 And ail their lengths and widths and size, 
 And what each state or town supplies. 
 Of products, imports, exports, ores 
 That yearly pass its special shores. 
 
 Ah me! the mountains I would climb 
 
 To find the height, and what a time 
 
 I've had with longitudes and poles, 
 
 Enough to try poor pupils' souls — 
 
 And tropics, latitudes, and zones, 
 
 That gave me geographic groans. 
 
 And then we had to daily tell 
 
 The capitals and towns as well, 
 
 Of territories and of states. 
 
 And give in full the different dates 
 
 Of settlements and civil wars. 
 
 And then we 'd have five minutes pause. 
 
 Before our history began. 
 
 Thus our daily duties ran. 
 
 We never knew an hour's peace ; 
 For if we were n't in Rome or Greece, 
 
6Z A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Discussing troubles old and stale, 
 Some insurrection to bewail, 
 We'd l]ave our massacres at home, 
 To fill our hearts with bygone gloom, 
 Rebellions, riots, rows, and wars, 
 Breaking all the country's laws ; 
 But then that was so long ago, 
 I hardly think we need to know 
 All those troubles that are past, 
 It's bad enough to know the last. 
 
 And then I think it 's really vile 
 
 To take us through the British isle, 
 
 And worry o'er her wars and woes, 
 
 Her usurpations, overthrows, 
 
 Her kings and queens both killed and 
 
 crowned. 
 We'll never get a single pound, 
 For all our interest in their fate, 
 'No matter how large their estate. 
 
 I'm tired now of history. 
 
 I've lenrned it all, and can not see 
 
SCHOOL LIFE. 33 
 
 Why we liave to know so much 
 
 About the English, French, and Dutch, 
 
 And all these men of ancient times, 
 
 Their virtae, valor, and their crimes. 
 
 We have as many of to-day 
 
 As we can w^ell their traits portray. 
 
 Then why go back to ages past 
 
 To get our heroes for a cast ? 
 
 Or worry o'er the wars of yore. 
 
 When we can have them at our door, 
 
 Green and fresh, of recent date, 
 
 In our own laud, indeed our state ? 
 
 What trials teachers do invent. 
 
 They never seem to be content 
 
 Without a torture of some kind 
 
 To agitate the pupil's mind. 
 
 And as for rest or idle hours, 
 
 The very thought their temper sours. 
 
 But study early, study late, 
 
 Things you like and things you hate ; 
 
 Study hard and study long. 
 
 Whether you are weak or strong. 
 
34 A-NAUGnTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 I tried my best to keep my brain 
 
 Uealtby, sound, and free from pain ; 
 
 I never bad it suffer augbt 
 
 From exercise of weigbty tbougbt. 
 
 All extra care and overwork, 
 
 My great ambition was to shirk ; 
 
 To save the tissues of my mind, 
 
 I 've always been somewhat inclined ! 
 
 I'd study just to struggle through, 
 
 But not enough to make me blue, 
 
 ISTor any recreation miss, 
 
 Which now I think accounts for this 
 
 Entire health which is my boast, 
 
 That over study might liave lost. 
 
 In moderation thus I went 
 From grade to grade, and was content. 
 In tricks and trifling, mirth and fun, 
 Was always passing number one. 
 The teacbers vexed at every turn. 
 And wanting me to leave or learn. 
 Would often help me gladly through 
 Their special class into a new, 
 
SCHOOL LIFE. 35 
 
 Thus hoping theu and there to find 
 More occupation for my mind, 
 And for themselves relief and rest. 
 How little my adieus distressed ; 
 For those bereft of such a prize 
 Looked coolly on with driest eyes ! 
 
 Once or twice I skipped a grade, 
 And cast the good girls in tlie shade, 
 Thus rid that teacher most entire 
 Of all the mischief I 'd inspire ; 
 'T was less in learning than in luck, 
 Together with my tact and pluck, 
 That helped me prematurely through, 
 But that is nothing odd or new. 
 
 I gushed as mnch at my advance 
 
 As though it was no game of chance. 
 
 And never hinted in the least, 
 
 As honors on me so increased, 
 
 'T was troubled teachers pushing me 
 
 To get me through thus rapidly. 
 
36 A-NAUGHTY- BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 So thus, for two years and a lialf — 
 
 I think of it, and have to laugh — 
 
 I spent the cheq[aered, closing days 
 
 Of school life, with its blame and praise, 
 
 Till all at once the president, 
 
 On my departure firmly bent, 
 
 Informed me I must now begin 
 
 My graduating bays to win. 
 
 He seemed quite glad to have me leave. 
 
 Indeed, there 's no one seemed to grieve 
 
 About my going at this date, 
 
 So I resolved to graduate. 
 
 My parting essay now I write, 
 And try sad feelings to excite. 
 I use the most pathetic strain. 
 As though I'd willingly remain 
 To share those sweet scholastic joys 
 That leaving school at once destroys. 
 I tried to make their bosoms sigh 
 For blessings now about to fly. 
 
 But, ah 1 alas, what cool content 
 My phrases to their faces lent ! 
 
SCHOOL LIFE. 37 
 
 I sadly spoke of happy scenes 
 
 Of school life, with its hopes and dreams, 
 
 Of patient teachers, just and kind. 
 
 And wondered if we 'd ever iind 
 
 In life again, such friends as these, 
 
 (And, aside, I thought) as hard to please. 
 
 I really felt it was a time 
 
 When I should ntter thoughts sublime. 
 
 But no one seemed to be disposed 
 
 To feel the slightest discomposed ; 
 
 ]^or could I hear a sob or sigh. 
 
 Or see a single moistened eye ! 
 
 Each teacher that Ileft behind 
 Seemed reconciled and well resigned 
 To hear my valedictory read. 
 And every parting word I said 
 Grave pleasure, I could plainly see, 
 To all the high-school faculty. 
 
 That day in June I'll ne'er forget, 
 Their happy faces haunt me yet. 
 
38 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 So eager, anxious, and content, 
 To lose a liglil", 't was only lent. 
 I felt their hearts were made of stone, 
 To be so glad when I was gone. 
 Our president, so mild and meek. 
 So happy was, he scarce could speak ; 
 He said my ivelfare was his aim, 
 But now my farewell was the same! 
 So 1 hurriedly my parchment drew, 
 And bid the happy school adieu. 
 
 GIULHOOD. 
 
 Thus I left those hallowed halls, 
 Its blackboards and its pictured walls, 
 With maps and charts of every size, 
 To torture brain and tease the eyes ; 
 And fondly fancied I w^as through; 
 I knew twice now what others knew, 
 And all I had to do was show 
 My talents off, and catch a beau. 
 
GIRLHOOD. 39 
 
 Wliat consternation tlien was mine, 
 When annt's original design 
 Was carried out, to have me teacli — 
 I'd almost rather beg or preach ; 
 But as it was her great desire, 
 And as I had no wealthy sire, 
 My talents must my banker be — 
 So I took a class in A, B, C. 
 
 Again I must divide my time, . 
 Between a share of prose and rhyme ; 
 I taught all day which was my prose — 
 The rhyme in evening, was my beau. 
 My daily duties never flagged, 
 But evening callers often lagged ; 
 I'd wonder too how they could know 
 My many charms and tarry so ! 
 
 How often evenings I have sat, 
 Impromptu welcomes all so pat ; 
 I'd tell the girl to say ''I'm home," 
 Alas the callers never come ! 
 And I would sit and read a book, 
 I'd read before, and never look 
 
40 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Disconcerted or annoyed, 
 Till evening hopes were all destroyed. 
 Then, disappointed, I'd retire. 
 And try to think of something higher. 
 But bitter pangs would rend my heart. 
 And dreams and nightmares make me 
 start. 
 
 Sometimes a beau would happen in, 
 And make me most commit a sin, 
 By seeming very much surprised, 
 When really I had half surmised 
 That he was coming for a week — 
 But this was just a girlish freak. 
 
 They really ought to like to come, 
 I made them feel so much at home ; 
 They seemed so happy while they stayed, 
 And left reluctantly, they said ; 
 And I would often think it true, 
 And show my sorrow — wouldn't you? 
 
 But, ah, alas ! I soon began 
 To see the sad deceit of man : 
 
GIRLHOOD. 41 
 
 I'd sit and watch, and wait in vain. 
 
 '5 
 
 My nose against the window-pane, 
 Or listen with an anxious spell, 
 To hear the ringing of the beli , 
 And bless the beggar that Avonld dare, 
 To waken hope and bring despair ! 
 
 Thus matters stood at seventeen — 
 
 An age that's always noted been 
 
 For sunny happiness and joys — 
 
 And so would mine, but for the boys ; 
 
 The very ones that suited me, 
 
 My aunty never seemed to see 
 
 With loving eyes as I desired, 
 
 And those she liked I ne'er admired; 
 
 And when we did on one agree 
 
 He hardly ever fancied me! 
 
 The scrapes and troubles I have had, 
 
 Enough to make a martyr sad; 
 
 These sorrows did n't happen once, 
 
 But worried me for weeks and months. 
 
 At last becoming better known, 
 
 New suitors I began to own, 
 4 
 
42 A-NAUGIITY-BIOGRAPIIV. 
 
 And having more, had bitter choice 
 And had occasion to rejoice 
 That I was blest with lots of beaus, 
 But none seemed anxious to propose. 
 They 'd come and go with thoughtless air, 
 And I, pretending not to care, 
 Would bid them welcome and adieu, 
 As sweet and kind as if I knew 
 Their very heart-throb was for me — 
 Their lives one line of constancy ! 
 
 How many sorry sighs I 've had 
 About a wayward truant lad, 
 How oft '' unwisely but too well," 
 Would love assert its magic spell. 
 And hold my heart so tight and strong — 
 I'm glad it never lasted long! 
 
 I've thought at times I could n't live, 
 Unless Augustus would forgive 
 The little pique I showed last night, 
 Done really more in love than spite. 
 I've gone to bed and tried to weep 
 Myself into a troubled sleep; 
 
GIRLHOOD. 43 
 
 But oft the sorrow I'd forget, 
 Before I found my eyes were wet ! 
 Or Morpheus would my senses blind, 
 And leave love's trials all behind. 
 
 How kind in ]^ature to prepare 
 A heart elastic, that can bear 
 The miseries and weighty Avoes 
 That must attend the age of beaus. 
 For, witli so many different kind, 
 You couldn't well make up your mind, 
 Especially when you didn't know 
 Which was destined for your beau. 
 To wait and wait, and then to find 
 The wrong one is the one inclined 
 To breathe his hopes into your ears, 
 A nuisance is that seldom cheers. 
 
 Just after such a blow as this 
 
 I thought I saw much future bliss. 
 In a student of the " nobby " kind, 
 So rich and handsome and refined. 
 But, oh, dear me ! my brief deliglit 
 Was shattered by his getting tight, 
 
44 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 And a love of fully thirty days 
 Was checked by aunt in many ways. 
 I thought at last it might he best 
 To let my student lover rest. 
 
 My next, an artist proud and poor, 
 By chance then living in next door, 
 Was always at my beck and call, 
 Which aunty did n't like at all — 
 She said he was a fop and dandy. 
 To me he was so nice and handy, 
 And then so pleasant and polite, 
 We had engagements every night ; 
 Till all at once my artist beau 
 Was told by aunt 'twas best to go — 
 The love that lasted three long months 
 Was crushed and killed by her at once. 
 
 And then I had an interval 
 Of several weeks in which to fill 
 The place of lovers I had lost — 
 But no one knew the pain it cost, 
 And nothing but a handsome clerk 
 I chanced to meet while at his work. 
 
GIRLHOOD. 45 
 
 Could make amends for all my woes ; 
 But he, alas ! did not propose. 
 I think he would, but times were hard, 
 Which often happy hopes retard. 
 I, knowing this, would not allow 
 Him any chance to make a vow, 
 For poverty, though not a crime, 
 Has always been a dread of mine. 
 His handsome eyes and wavy hair, 
 Were great temptations I declare ; 
 And then his love was firm and true 
 But he hadn't cash enough for two. 
 So we sighed in silence o'er our fate. 
 And wisely thought it best to wait — 
 The other callers too seemed slow, 
 I've often wondered why 't was so. 
 
 I had no wealth, or charms to praise ; 
 But, then, I had such " winning w^ays," 
 That ought to take, and may-be will — 
 At least I won't give up until 
 I hear from some more hopeful source, 
 All true love has a crooked course. 
 
46 A-NAUGIITY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 I know the chap I 'd like to catch — 
 I think 'twould be a splendid match — 
 I wonder what he thinks of me? 
 I'll wait a while and we will see; 
 He has a tender sort of way 
 When he wishes me to sing or play; 
 And, when the hour comes to leave, 
 He often looks disposed to grieve. 
 
 He 's handsome, too, but awful shy, 
 Has such a melting, mellow eye. 
 It makes me reconciled to wait 
 If just to see, at any rate, 
 If time won't ripen his desire. 
 And sparks of love for me inspire; 
 And while I wait he'll never know 
 I ever wished to have a beau. . 
 
 Here twice this week, I do declare. 
 And took me out once to the fair; 
 I really think he's coming round. 
 So I'll keep cool and hold my ground; 
 Should he propose, I'll show surprise. 
 And stammer, 'No, with drooping eyes: 
 
GIRLHOOD. 47 
 
 That 's the way they do in books, 
 E"or show their haste by eager looks ; 
 I hope he won't discover mine, 
 ]^or take in earnest my decline, 
 It really was n't final, nay, 
 It only meant a slight delay 
 In making np my maiden mind, 
 And, in repeating, he will find 
 That after the surprise was o'er, 
 I 'd " love and honor and adore." 
 
 But blessed luck, and happy fate^ 
 That did n't give me long to wait. 
 One quiet eve, in early fall, 
 He came, and made a lovely call ; 
 1^0 other beans that night appeared. 
 As both of us at first had feared ; 
 And aunty being out of town. 
 We did n't dread her maiden frown. 
 So being favored thus by fate, 
 His smothered love he did relate. 
 Our happiness and new-made bliss 
 Was sanctioned by the sealing kiss. 
 
48 A-NAUGHT\-iiIOGRAPHY. 
 
 I quite forgot the siglis and looks 
 
 So recommended in the books. 
 
 And answered, Yes, without deUiy 
 
 Or looking once another way. 
 
 He found I was n't hard to woo, 
 
 My answer came so frank and true ; 
 
 For when you 're suited, what 's the sense 
 
 Of being kept in such suspense, 
 
 Till silly rules of etiquette 
 
 Love's happy longings all upset? 
 
 That evening Cupid's capers thrived, 
 Till all at once my aunt arrived ; 
 I fear we guilty look and feel, 
 Our awkward actions can 't conceal 
 How matters stand, but I will try 
 By tact detection to defy. 
 "We treat each other calmly cool. 
 Talk carelessly of church and school, 
 Or any subject but the one 
 That we have just agreed upon. 
 To please my aunty's prudish ear, 
 We shunned the theme to us so dear. 
 
GIRLHOOD. 49 
 
 Till passing liours in liasty flight, 
 Suggest to us a sad good- night. 
 
 I^Tow he is gone — how queer I feel ! 
 
 I wish I only dared reveal 
 
 Mj pent up joy unto my aunt ; 
 
 I want to, but I really can 't. 
 
 She always seemed to like this beaa 
 
 As well as any that I know, 
 
 But then she never thought that he 
 
 Would ever care a fig for me ; 
 
 And now I fear that when she finds 
 
 He really loves and has designs, 
 
 She might at once discover fiaws 
 
 To cause her to object or pause, 
 
 And then what misery would be mine 
 
 No heart could know or tongue define. 
 
 The fearful Rubicon is past ; 
 
 I 've told her all — her sanction asked. 
 
 And she consents — most strange to tell, 
 
 I find my suitor suits her well ; 
 
 But wonders what he e'er could see 
 
 In such a wayward girl as me. 
 
50 A-NATJGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Indeed, I 've often wondered too, 
 Though other people never knew, 
 But what I thought I was a prize ; 
 E'or did my suitor e'er surmise — ■ 
 He thought me all that he desired ; 
 That trait in him I so admired ! 
 
 For total blindness in a beau 
 
 Is one the best gifts that I know ; 
 
 So, feeling so secure in this, 
 
 We might have lived a life of bliss. 
 
 But for a couple other beau, 
 
 Who thought at once that they 'd propose ; 
 
 They never dreamed of it before, 
 
 'Nov would till they had been four score. 
 
 If I had still kept " fancy free," 
 
 They never would have fancied me. 
 
 '' It seldom rains but what it pours " — 
 
 Too many beaus are often bores. 
 
 I cutely kept my matters mum, 
 
 But found it truly troublesome; 
 
 I told them I was nothing loth 
 
 To love, indeed to marry, both — 
 
GIRLHOOD. 51 
 
 For still on mischief I was bent, 
 And seldom said a word I meant ; 
 Most ever have my share of fun 
 At sad expense of '' number one." 
 
 I really felt, I blush to tell, 
 That I was getting quite a "belle/' 
 And could aiFord to put on airs, 
 When offers tackled me in pairs! 
 And then, too, I had been so fast 
 In saying yes, that I would blast 
 Those tender hopes I lately made- 
 Two lovers cast one in the shade. 
 
 I timed my hours to see them all, 
 Preventing, thus, a lover's squall. 
 And thought my wits were working fine, 
 When, all at once, that aunt of mine 
 Commenced, she said, ■" to smell a rat," 
 And then we had a lively spat. 
 I hardly need to tell the rest — 
 For aunty always came out best — 
 And I was then obliged to be 
 Content with one, instead of three, 
 
52 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 And though I loved the first one well, 
 I missed the two, I blush to tell. 
 If aunty had n't been so queer, 
 I'd had three lovers all the year, 
 But now I stuck to number one. 
 And left the other two undone. 
 
 And neither of them seemed to die, 
 I can not tell the reason why ; 
 They nearly always do in books. 
 Or turn out bad, which I think looks 
 More in keeping with their grief. 
 I wonder how they got relief? 
 Indeed, I hear they're living 3^et, 
 And doing well, and their regret 
 Lasted but a little w^hile, 
 And terminated in a smile 
 That they had missed the happy chance- 
 That wasn't my fault, but my aunt's. 
 
 But dear devoted number one 
 Forgave the flirting I had done. 
 And now, as always, I could see 
 How much too good he was for me. 
 
GIRLHOOD. 53 
 
 At once I thoiiglit, with aunty's aid, 
 I 'd try to settle, and be staid, 
 Becoming wortliy of so fine 
 And noble-hearted beau as mine. 
 
 How easy 'tis for folks to talk, 
 But oh ! how hard to walk the chalk. 
 The only hope that I could find 
 Was keeping my beloved blind^ 
 An easy task, I 'm glad to say. 
 Till he wanted me to " name the day 
 So what's the use of waiting now 
 For consummation of our vow, 
 When heart and hand and ready will 
 Are longing for us to fulfill 
 That little form and loving rite 
 That permanently hearts unite? 
 So I shall name an early day. 
 And wed at once, without delay. 
 My trosseau wo n't be much to get ; 
 Indeed, I'm never one to fret 
 About apparel new and fine, 
 Or try my neighbors to outshine. 
 
 
54 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 And then, too, meaning no offense, 
 
 To teachers io the abstract sense, 
 
 Light and slender was ni}^ purse. 
 
 To some, I know, that's quite a curse; 
 
 To me, it being nothing new, 
 
 My wants were rather small and few. 
 
 My preparations soon were done, 
 
 Interspersed with lots of fun ; 
 
 My wedding day was near at hand 
 
 And I was feeling mighty grand. 
 
 And each of my '' live hundred friends " 
 
 Got tickets, and the fete attends ; 
 
 I, robed in white, with fleecy veil, 
 
 "With orange wreath and courtly trail. 
 
 Fancied that, at my levee 
 
 They 'd all admire and envy me ; 
 
 But strange to say, I never heard 
 
 The very first admiring word ! 
 
 But then the guests, the gifts, the ring, 
 And all the joys that weddings bring — 
 A sweetish scare, I must confess, 
 Was mingled with my happiness. 
 
GIRLHOOD. 55 
 
 A could not see the sense of tears, 
 When I had been, for several years, 
 Just waiting for this happy day, 
 To give my willing self away ; 
 Yet still I trembled as I swore, 
 " To love and honor and adore." 
 
 My single friends, that disbelieve 
 My statements, I will give them leave 
 To marry for themselves, and see 
 How scared and happy they will be ; 
 My married ones already know 
 That what I 've said is really so. 
 
 The altar often ends the tale — 
 The fair one then, that we assail, 
 Is shelved at once, and cast aside 
 As soon as she is made a bride ; 
 ISTow, twenty years of merry life 
 Is passed — I became a wife. 
 The " JSTaughty " heroine, you see, 
 Has finished her " Biography." 
 
56 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 A " GOOD BYE "-OGRAPHY. 
 
 I'll stiy a few words at the close, 
 
 In case discussions ever rose 
 
 About my traits iu after life — 
 
 I mean when I became a wife. 
 
 A lenient husband's charity, 
 
 Id trust and boundless love for me, 
 
 O'erlooked my early erring ways. 
 
 And filled my e;ir with daily praise. 
 
 Indulgent friends would kindly say 
 
 Such pleasant things most every day, 
 
 And looked so mildly on my mirth, 
 
 It made be overrate my worth. 
 
 And feel reformed, as aunty quotes, 
 
 "That I have sown my wildest oats." 
 
 The stern realities of life 
 
 Will sober down the gayest wife. 
 
 The cares and crosses surely come 
 
 To cloud, at times, the brightest home; 
 
 And mine was not exempt from these, 
 
 For sighs and sorrows and disease 
 
A " GOOD BYE "-OGRAPHY. 57 
 
 Were all, in turn, my painful lot — 
 
 'T were better though they were forgot. 
 
 I'll finish in the brightest strain, 
 
 E"or have my friends peruse, with pain, 
 
 A clouded page, when my intent 
 
 Was solely for their merriment; 
 
 They '11 see how short these twenty years, 
 
 Beside the first, in print appears. 
 
 The reason 's easy understood : 
 
 The traits depicted here are good, 
 
 And occupy a smaller space 
 
 Than loicked ones I had to trace. 
 
 I wanting quite a good sized book, 
 
 My sinnings and short comings took 
 
 The other side, I do engage, 
 
 Would hardly fill the second page. 
 
 I'll say, for fear my friends deplore, 
 
 These vixen traits are mine no more; 
 
 The heroine, once known as "haughty," 
 
 Is now reformed — ^^'fair, fat, and forty." 
 
The heroine, once known as " Naughty," 
 Is now reformed — " fair, fat, and forty." 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 THE VILLAGE BELLE. 
 
 A verdant youth of modest mien 
 Fell in love with, the village queen, 
 
 When strolling through the clover ; 
 And in his homely honest way 
 Kndely coined what he would say, 
 
 And how he'd always love her. 
 
 He looked in her coquettish eye, 
 With hope and fear for her reply ; 
 
 But she so careless seeming, 
 Scarce listened to his honeyed words, 
 But turned their sweetness into curds, 
 
 And woke him from his dreaming. 
 
 She laughed aloud, with merry glee. 
 At the very thought of such as he 
 
 (61) 
 
62 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Presuming to the honor 
 Of loving her, the village belle ; 
 Indeed, his feelings he must quell, 
 
 Nor force his love upon her. 
 
 There were a dozen love-sick swains 
 Awaiting to blow out their brains 
 
 When she refused affection ; 
 Which, of course, she would to all but one, 
 And when the others' fates were known, 
 
 They'd die of deep dejection. 
 
 She would not wed a country lad. 
 Did she want a husband e'er so bad — 
 
 She sighed for city suitors ; 
 Uriah's hopes were sadly crushed, 
 His tender words at once were hushed, 
 
 Her wishes were his tutors. 
 
 There's Harry Banks just fresh from 
 
 Yale, 
 Who's apt and easy at the tale 
 
THE VILLAGE BELLE. 63 
 
 That Cupid first invented ; 
 He does n't blush or stammer thronorh. 
 As though the art were strange and new, 
 
 Act awkward or demented ; 
 
 But takes the favored fair one's hand, 
 With melting looks and accents bland, 
 
 He tells his heart's emotion ; 
 And though he 's often tight, they say, 
 I like his jovial, genial way. 
 
 His lover-like devotion. 
 
 I really think my choice is made 
 In favor of the college blade ; 
 
 And, though a reckless rover, 
 I vow his wild and winning ways 
 Would any maiden's fancy daze 
 
 That craved a dashing lover. 
 
 He'll sow his " wild oats" soon, I know. 
 And then he's such a "nobby" beau, 
 
 I feel I'm blest to get him ; 
 And Oh, the gay, bright city life. 
 That will be mine, when I'm his wife, 
 
 And the girls that will regret him. 
 
64 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 So argued our fair village belle, 
 And wed the dashing college swell, 
 
 And left our poor Uriah, 
 And all the other sighing swains, 
 Whose hearts had turned their youthful 
 brains. 
 
 And, set their souls on fire. 
 
 But ah, alas ! one little je^r, 
 
 Has changed her happiness to care. 
 
 And time too soon discloses. 
 By sunken cheek and saddened eye. 
 Her heavy heart and stifled sigh. 
 
 Her bed is not of roses. 
 
 The dashing beau of other days, 
 Has lost his soft pers.uasive ways ; 
 
 Her city life and lover 
 Are but a myth to what they seemed. 
 As she in girlish fancy dreamed, 
 
 When strolling 'midst the clover. 
 
ST. VALENTINE DAY. 65 
 
 ST. YALEFTINE DAY. 
 
 This season of old, 
 Wev'e often been told, 
 Was the time of all others 
 
 For youth to be bold ; 
 So the brave and the fair 
 May venture to dare, 
 Like the birds of the air, 
 
 Their feelings unfold. 
 
 This day of the year. 
 To the young very dear. 
 Suggests to the heart 
 
 A sweet happiness near; 
 And a hope bright and gay. 
 May tempt them to say. 
 On St. Valentine's Day, 
 
 Words tender and queer. 
 
 Shy lovers, begin, 
 
 Faint hearts never win, 
 
 !N"or is it a sin 
 6 
 
QQ MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 To love wisely and well; 
 And the coy and the fair 
 May be yearning to hear, 
 At least once a year, 
 
 What a lover might tell. 
 
 So, gents, your attention ; 
 I beg you will mention 
 To the fair of your choice 
 
 Your honest intention ; 
 And should she reject you, 
 Do n't let it deject you, 
 Eut think it an ounce 
 
 Of healthy prevention. 
 
 They say Cupid's arrows 
 Pierce even the sparrows ; 
 The thought surely harrows 
 
 The youth of to-day ; 
 For who with right reason. 
 In love-making season. 
 Would like by the birds 
 
 To be " given away ? " 
 
THE RAINY DAY. 67 
 
 THE EAINY DAY. 
 
 The gentle rain that softly falls, 
 
 Befriending earth and ocean, 
 Awakens many a happy thought, 
 
 As well as sad emotion. 
 It tells of changing E'ature's tears. 
 
 That fall to freshen beanty ; 
 It teaches us that gloomy hours 
 
 May darken pleasant duty. 
 
 Tearful times must come to all. 
 
 And joy be mixed with sadness ; 
 Our years are not one summer dream, 
 
 Our hearts one glow of gladness; 
 But like the gentle rain to earth, 
 
 Bereaving while it brightens, 
 A few dark days, in every life. 
 
 Each coming blessing heightens. 
 
 We greet the golden sunshine more, 
 That follows after showers, 
 
68 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Just as we welcome happiness 
 Succeeding dreary hours ; 
 
 Were years continued summer time, 
 Or filled with constant glory, 
 
 Were E"ature always in her prime, 
 And life one cloudless story, 
 
 We'd poorly prize the blessings sent- 
 
 1:^0 contrast to create content. 
 
 AUTUMN". 
 
 I love to live in autumn days, 
 To linger in their bahny haze, 
 To ponder in a dreamy maze. 
 
 Upon their many glories. 
 I love to watch the setting sun, 
 To see the stars come one by one, 
 And fade away when they are done. 
 
 Telling their nightly story. 
 
 I love sweet autumn's golden hours. 
 Though chilling winds and fading flowers, 
 Tell of E'ature's waning powers, 
 
OCTOBER. 69 
 
 Still I love the season ; 
 Tiiey speak of ripeness, ere decay 
 Has swept their beauties all away; 
 The change of leaf froni. green to gray 
 
 Must charm the dullest reason. 
 
 The garnered graiu, the golden sheaf, 
 The varied bough, the yellow leaf, 
 Teem with beauties, all too brief, 
 
 That vanish as we view them. 
 I'd have the autumn's gentle sway 
 Control the year from June to May ; 
 I'd have its glories ne'er decay, 
 
 I^or winter snows to strew them. 
 
 OCTOBER. 
 
 This golden mouth, with varied leaves, 
 
 So full of Avaniug glories, 
 Adorns the groves that it bereaves, 
 
 And tills the woods with stories 
 
70 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Of fleeting verdure, fading flowers- 
 Dying E^ature's empty bowers. 
 
 It stills the birds and chills the air, 
 It scatters roses here and there, 
 Making bush and branches bare 
 
 Of foliage and beauty. 
 The verdant leaves of summer lie 
 Seared, beneath an autumn sky, 
 Left to wither and to die, 
 
 As Nature's latest duty. 
 
 LOVE'S Lo^amas. 
 
 I dream of thee in dewy hours, 
 
 I think of thee by day, 
 I muse upon thy winning powers, 
 
 When thou art far away. 
 I love to live in love with thee. 
 
 To watch thy pensive eye. 
 
love's longings. 71 
 
 To linger in thy memory, 
 
 To sootlie thy bosom's sigh. 
 I fain would have thy love-lit face 
 
 Forever turned on me, 
 Oh, may we not in future trace 
 
 One common destiny? 
 And then together we could tread 
 
 Life's flowery fields as one, 
 Dependent on each other's love, 
 
 As earth is on the sun. 
 
 Each joy in life would brighter be, 
 
 If thou wert always near. 
 And every sorrow lighter be. 
 
 If thou wert there to cheer. 
 So let me linger by thy side. 
 
 In love with thee alone. 
 Should fortune frown or ills betide, 
 
 Thy presence would atone. 
 
 And blest and happy in thy smiles, 
 
 Despite of cross or care, 
 I 'd pray for rare longevity. 
 
 Thy holy love to share. 
 
72 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 And then when life should cease to be, 
 And earthly love grow cold, 
 
 Mj songs throughout eternity 
 Should angel love unfold. 
 
 SHE SLEEPS BENEATH THE 
 ROSES. 
 
 We bore our Bessie's angel form, 
 
 Which now in death reposes, 
 To the silent grave, in summer days. 
 When earth was bathed in sunny rays, 
 When June birds sang their summer lays, 
 We laid her 'neath the roses. 
 
 We watched the form we loved so well, 
 As the grave so greedy closes. 
 
 We heard the sod as it sadly fell, 
 
 A heartless tale it seemed to tell. 
 
 Its echo like a funeral knell, 
 Was heard among the roses. 
 
NOVEMBER. 73 
 
 We turned away and left her there, 
 
 With flowers around, above her, 
 We breathed the soothing summer ah'. 
 Which bade us hope and hush despair, 
 We gave our child to angel care, 
 And trust to God to love her. 
 
 We sought our sorrow-stricken home. 
 Which naught but grief discloses, 
 
 Each echo there repeats a groan. 
 
 Each merry laugh is now a moan. 
 
 For angel Bessie sleeps alone, 
 Beneath the summer roses. 
 
 KOYEMBER. 
 
 The Autumn boughs are growing bare. 
 The leaves are changed and falling, 
 
 And dying nature everywhere 
 Obeys grim Winter's calling; 
 
74 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 The fields bereft of grass and grain, 
 The waving woods deserted, 
 
 The fountains gush, the songsters strain, 
 To wailing winds converted. 
 
 All nature frowns in drear dismay. 
 
 As Autumn beauties pass away. 
 
 We see them all decay and die. 
 
 Each bud and tree and flower, 
 The trailing vines neglected lie. 
 
 Around the summer bower ; 
 O'er slopes so lately pleasure's haunts. 
 
 The withered leaves are blowing, 
 The broken branch, the barren bough 
 
 The sterile grounds are strewing ; 
 Earth's beauties vanish one by one, 
 As nature's yearly race is run. 
 
 November's winds are bleak and cold, 
 Its skies are gray and dreary. 
 
 Its landscapes no delights unfold, 
 To rest the eye that 's weary. 
 
GONE BLIND. 75 
 
 There's naught around, beneath, above, 
 
 But tells of folding glorj, 
 Each lonely lawn, and leafless grove 
 
 Confirms the saddened story ; 
 Earth sobs her grief, and Boreas sighs. 
 As changing I^ature droops and dies. 
 
 GONE BLIKD. 
 
 An early friend, of brilliant mind, 
 In manhood's summer stricken blind ; 
 Earth's beauties faded day by day, 
 Till views and visions passed away, 
 And left a blank in the midst of bloom- 
 A spirit crushed in a life of gloom. 
 A heart bowed down in manly grief, 
 'No hope of light to bring relief. 
 
 His sun is set at early noon, 
 His rayless night 's without a moon ; 
 His life's bright zenith 's clouded o'er, 
 To him the stars will rise no more. 
 
76 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 1^0 sunny scenes illume liis way, 
 The flowers bloom and then decay, 
 The planets daily set and rise 
 Before those yearning, sightless eyes. 
 
 To him, all life is one long night. 
 The season's change brings no delight; 
 His vacant orbs scan nothing new, 
 Bat stare in vain for one dim view 
 Of sights and scenes of other days, 
 "When life was full of sunny rays ; 
 He'd freely give all earthly gold 
 For one glad glimpse of scenes of old. 
 
 Familiar faces, favorite friends. 
 That by Jiis side in love attends ; 
 "What priceless gift 't would be for him 
 To see those forms, though faint and 
 
 dim; 
 To trace the features, watch the eye 
 Of loved ones, flitting fondly by. 
 And gaze upon her gentle face, 
 Whose charms e'en darkness can 't ef- 
 face. 
 
LINES WRITTEN BY THE SEASIDE. 77 
 
 Oh, could this dreary winter dream 
 Be gladdened by one golden gleam, 
 One sunbeam's blessed brightening ray 
 Could turn this darkness into day. 
 But this eclipse, this sunless gloom. 
 That now makes life a living tomb, 
 May know no dawn till earthly night 
 Gives place to heaven's eternal light. 
 
 LmES WEITTEIN" BY THE 
 SEASIDE. 
 
 As I sit by the seaside. 
 
 And watch the blue waves 
 On the boundless bright bosom of ocean, 
 
 The roar of the billows, 
 
 The sea as it raves,' 
 Awaken ecstatic emotion. 
 
 I long: for tlie leisure 
 To stay by its side, 
 
78 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 To linger in love by its beauties, 
 
 To listen entranced, 
 
 To gaze with delight, 
 And regret that I have other du^es. 
 
 I regret that dull life, 
 
 "With its prosy routine, 
 Must claim my attention to-morrow ; 
 
 That I must awake 
 
 From mty bright ocean dream, 
 And leave the cool seaside in sorrow. 
 
 This world of delight, 
 
 This home by the sea. 
 This hour so full of enjoyment. 
 
 How I wish that the future 
 
 Had nothing for me 
 But just such happy employment. 
 
 I 'd live by the sea, 
 
 All these long summer days 
 I 'd watch the bright breakers at even, 
 
 I 'd wander at twilight, 
 
 And silently gaze 
 On the beauties of ocean and heaven. 
 
LINES WRITTEN BY THE SEASIDE. 79 
 
 Till Luna lends light 
 
 To the billowy scene, 
 That sparkles like gems in its glory ; 
 
 As tipping the waves 
 
 With her silvery sheen. 
 She nightly renews her bright story. 
 
 I 'd gaze at the stars 
 
 In the heavens on high, 
 And list to the mnsic of ocean, 
 
 Till the moan of the sea 
 
 And the zephyr's soft sigh 
 Would turn my delight to devotion. 
 
 I could muse on those orbs, 
 
 Thus mirrored by waves. 
 In revery live by the hour 
 
 By the side of the sea, 
 
 As it sighs or it raves. 
 And dream of Omnipotent power. 
 
80 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 TWENTY SUMMERS. 
 
 On our Daughter's Birthday. 
 
 Thy first bright twenty years have past, 
 And left an impress that will last 
 
 A lifetime on thy brow ; 
 May the moulding of thy gentle face, 
 Which all the kindly feelings grace, 
 
 Be always calm as now ! 
 
 All nature's noble gifts are thine, 
 So carry out her sweet design 
 
 In every new career ; 
 Thus radiate delight around, 
 Make sanny happiness abound, 
 
 And bless each future sphere. 
 
 Let every grace that now is thine 
 Be ripened by the hand of time, 
 
 Enriched by coming j^ears ; 
 Ennobled and refined by art, 
 That only culture can impart, 
 
 And moral worth endears. 
 
CHIDING ^^ love's CHIBINGS." 81 
 
 ]^o idle ease oor empty hours 
 Should dwarf thy mind's improving 
 powers, 
 
 But live with earnest aim ; 
 And strive each happy trait to woo, 
 Do nobly what thou hast to do, 
 
 And grace thy future name. 
 
 CIIIDma '' LOVE'S CHIDmGS/' 
 
 The cruel word in anger spoken, 
 Has oft the loving heart near broken, 
 And left its sting for hours behind, 
 Upon some dear one's troubled mind. 
 How many a day is clouded o'er, 
 And many a heart made sad and sore. 
 By thoughtless words that give us pain, 
 That ne'er can be recalled again ! 
 
 Our dearest friends should surely be 
 The ones the last our faults to see, 
 And then, all leniency and love, 
 Should by its blind devotion prove 
 
82 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 How far above all other ties 
 In life, our home-hearts we should prize ; 
 Oiir wedded love's responsive thrill 
 Should be the same through good and ill. 
 
 Away with love that's only lent 
 Till all the summer hours are spent, 
 That fades and cools as cares increase, 
 That comes and goes with each caprice. 
 Ah! no, the love for which we yearn 
 Will through all age and error burn. 
 Will live and light our winter days. 
 And be the same in blame and praise. 
 
 True love is trusting, patient, pure. 
 Is constant, kind, and will endure ; 
 It never chides, but soothes the breast 
 That sighs for sympathy and rest. 
 One broken chord may wreck a life, 
 One angry word ma^^ start a strife. 
 And chill the love that early won, 
 That should be life's domestic sun. 
 
FOUND DROWNED. 83 
 
 EOUKD DKOWNED. 
 
 There drifted a form on the banks of a 
 
 stream. 
 As pretty and fair as poet's young 
 
 dream ; 
 "With her worn, draggled dress and her 
 
 small tattered shoes, 
 Her golden hair floating dishevelled and 
 
 loose ; 
 Her pale, haggard face, so sad in repose, 
 Told tales of a life beclouded by woes ; 
 Her small dimpled hands lay listless and 
 
 cold 
 Across her fair breast, where sorrows 
 
 untold 
 Had made her young heart in misery old. 
 
 Her poor glassy eyes, now death dimmed 
 
 and blue, 
 Looked vacantly out, as it' bidding adieu 
 
84 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 To a world that had shunned her, to 
 friends that denied 
 
 Love, kindness, and pity in self-right- 
 eous pride : 
 
 Who can she be, this fair one unknown, 
 
 Has she a history, has she a home? 
 
 Was life ever bright to her, friends ever 
 kind ? 
 
 Why did she seek thus oblivion to find — 
 
 This blankness and Lethe for body and 
 mind ? 
 
 Did nobody love her, did nobody wait 
 
 In crazy anxiety as to her fate ? 
 
 Had she no father, no husband, no 
 
 brother. 
 Had she no dear, tender sister or 
 
 mother. 
 To watch for her coming and wonder and 
 
 wait, 
 Impatient and anxious, because she 's so 
 
 late ? 
 
FOUND DROWNED. 85 
 
 And v/hen she comes not, is there no one 
 
 to miss her, 
 Ko one to seek her, to love her or kiss 
 
 her ? 
 Will nobody come to claim the fair clay, 
 Will friends all forsake her in doubt 
 
 and dismay ? 
 Mnst this disappointed, mistaken young 
 
 life, 
 
 Gone out in its misery, not end the strife ? 
 
 Will forgiveness not come, even if error 
 were there, 
 
 To the clay of this victim of hopeless de- 
 spair ? 
 
 Did life in its springtime to her seem so 
 sad. 
 
 That living was sorrow ? Ah, mayhap 
 she had 
 
 Crushed hopes and afiections too heavy 
 to bear, 
 
 So she seeks dissolution in crazy de- 
 spair. 
 
86 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 To live would need courage^ to die would 
 
 end all, 
 So she leaps in the dark, e'er her 
 
 Maker doth call. 
 " Found Drowned " is the verdict too sad 
 
 to believe, 
 l!^o kindred to sorrow, no loved ones to 
 
 grieve. 
 Doomed to desertion, both living and 
 
 dead, 
 'No mourners to follow to the place she is 
 
 laid; 
 By strangers she 's buried, unwept and 
 
 unknown. 
 Thus ends a brief life, misery marked for 
 
 its own. 
 
THE DARK DAYS OF WINTER. 87 
 
 THE DAEK DAYS OF WmXER. 
 
 As gloom gathers round, the dark days 
 of winter, 
 And the season of shadows, beclouds 
 the bright skies, 
 The heart becomes tinged with pensive 
 emotions 
 As E'ature, in mourning, thus withers 
 and dies. 
 
 "We recall the sweet hours of retrospect 
 pleasure. 
 Of green haunts of happiness — lately 
 our own — 
 Of gay, joyous scenes, and sweet summer 
 fancies. 
 Engendered by beauty and brightness 
 alone. 
 
 Adieu to the charms of summer and 
 autumn, 
 That each, in their turn, fill life with 
 delight ; 
 
88 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 We love N'ature, budding or blooming 
 or ripened, 
 We cherish its beauties — regretting 
 their flight. 
 
 But the dark days of winter must come 
 to the seasons, 
 That change, in their rounds, from the 
 bright to the drear ; 
 And, though we deplore their cold dull- 
 ness and darkness, 
 We can 't hope for springtime all thro' 
 the year. 
 
 These dull, dreary days, these clouds, 
 gray and heavy. 
 That hang, like a pall, over I^ature's 
 fair face. 
 But serve to enhance each gleam of gold 
 sunshine. 
 When new- waking I^ature its beauties 
 retrace. 
 
THE SONG OF THE SLUSH. 89 
 
 THE SONG OF THE SLUSH. 
 
 The slusli, the slush, the terrible slush, 
 That streams from eacli pore of the earth 
 
 with a gush ; 
 Impeding the travel, making walking a 
 
 woe; 
 All on account of the "Beautiful Snow," 
 
 From each roof and tree, great drippings 
 
 we see. 
 Making gutters and crossings quite up to 
 
 the knee ; 
 The sidewalks so icy, the pavements a 
 
 show ; 
 All on account of the " Beautiful Snow." 
 
 From the time that we leave the sill of 
 
 the door, 
 " Eaves-droppings," in torrents, all over 
 
 us pour — 
 
 8 
 
90 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Such splashing above, such slushing be- 
 low ; 
 All on account of the "Beautiful Snow." 
 
 Then we slip and we slide, as we try to 
 proceed ; 
 
 Tottering and trembling, like a wind- 
 waving reed. 
 
 This icy mud-mixture makes traveling so 
 slow ; 
 
 All on account of the " Beautiful Snow." 
 
 The soot and the slush, the mud and the 
 
 smoke. 
 Make that pure, pretty poem a dark, 
 
 dirty joke; 
 With a nature poetic, we certainly know 
 ISo "Queen City" bard wrote "Beautiful 
 
 Snow." 
 
BETRAYED. 91 
 
 BETEAYED. 
 
 I knew a rustic beauty once, 
 
 A happy-hearted maiden, 
 Whose life seemed bright as summer days, 
 And as she watched the autumn rays, 
 With love of nature's works and ways. 
 
 Her heart seemed always laden. 
 
 She loved her quiet, rural home, 
 
 In all its sweet sedateness, 
 She 'd stroll along with happy air. 
 Regardless of a coming care, 
 Supposing joy was everywhere. 
 
 And dream of future greatness. 
 
 Her bright, blue eyes would seek the 
 skies. 
 
 In wondering admiration, 
 She 'd roam at will, from wood to hill. 
 Or sit and dream by rock and rill, 
 As if she yearned her soul to fill 
 
 With love of God's creation. 
 
92 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Could her young life ne'er known of 
 strife, 
 
 ISTor seen bat rural beauties, 
 That happiness might still be hers, 
 Where anguish now her bosom stirs, 
 That always follows each that errs 
 
 Against life's hallowed duties. 
 
 A suitor came, in city guise, 
 
 A gay and dashing lover. 
 He wooes this simple-hearted girl, 
 He tells her of the city's whirl, 
 Where fascinations all unfurl. 
 
 And pleasure's cup runs over. 
 
 She soon Avould scorn these rustic scenes, 
 
 So tame to riper vision. 
 Her beauty buried out of sight, 
 Her love spent on some country wight, 
 Her life without one gay delight. 
 
 Would mark her future mission. 
 
 She loving heard his dangerous words, 
 And, with fond trust believing, 
 
BETRAYED. 93 
 
 She listened by her favorite stream 
 To tales of* love that made life seem 
 Enchanting as a fairy dream, 
 Nor thought of his deceiving. 
 
 She quit her happy, rural home, 
 
 To share his boasted pleasures. 
 
 Alas, her love was soon despised, 
 
 He left her e'er she had surmised 
 
 That he, bereft of all she prized. 
 
 Was least among her treasures. 
 
 Crushed beneath that heavy blow. 
 
 She sank in deep dejection ; 
 Her happiness is changed to tears, 
 Her purity to guilty fears, 
 Estranged each friendly face appears, 
 
 And dead each fond affection. 
 
 His broken vows near drove her mad, 
 
 His treacherous desertion 
 Made desperate every hope she had, 
 To her the rest of life was sad, 
 Not even innocence to glad 
 
 Or shield her from aspersion. 
 
94 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 She, broken-hearted, crusli'dand wrong'd, 
 
 Who erred through blind devotion, 
 Could ne'er regain her home and friends, 
 Nor could a lifetime make amends, 
 ]^or dull the pang her bosom rends ; 
 She 'd die and end emotion. 
 
 She seeks the brook that once she loved. 
 
 By stealth in twilight hoar. 
 And, musing on that peaceful scene. 
 She sadly thought " what might have 
 
 been," 
 Had traitors love, with gilded meio, 
 
 E^ot charmed with subtle power. 
 
 Then came the flood of bitter tears. 
 
 Heart-chiding and misgiving, 
 "When stilling all her future fears. 
 As she a fancied footstep hears. 
 She takes a leap and disappears, 
 And ends the pain of living. 
 
 Despairing death her early doom, 
 Young, wretched, and mistaken, 
 
■ BETRAYED. 95 
 
 Her innocence and beauty gone, 
 Her life cut off in early morn, 
 Her broken heart in anguish torn, 
 Deserted and forsaken. 
 
 And where is he whose treacherous wiles 
 
 Have driven her to madness ? 
 Whose hollow heart and sinful soul 
 Betrayed, while under love's control. 
 The trusting heart we here enroll 
 Upon life's book of sadness ? 
 
 Her icy form drifts down the stream. 
 
 While he pursues his pleasures; 
 The world looks on his murd'rous deeds 
 With leniency, and scarcely heeds 
 The ruin w^rought, or wrong that pleads 
 For justice in God's measures. 
 
96 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 SUMMER SIGHIISrGS. 
 
 We want to go to " Iceland," 
 
 Or to the '' polar seas;" 
 We want to hug an " iceberg," 
 
 Or raise a " family breeze ; " 
 We want to see a white frost 
 
 All o'er our grassy earth ; 
 We w^ant to have a snow^ storm 
 
 Give winter early birth ; 
 A " cold" would be a godsend. 
 
 Indeed, we 'd like a " chill ; " 
 A " coolness " with our dearest friend 
 
 Would help to " till the bill." 
 A " cool reception " we 'd enjoy. 
 
 Also, a "freezing" bow. 
 And " frosted feet " we 'd think a treat 
 
 If we could have them now. 
 We 'd like our home an " ice bouse," 
 
 Our bed a bank of snow, 
 We 'd have " refrigerator " cars 
 
 To take us to and fro ; 
 
OUR BABY. 97 
 
 We 'cl love to live in Lapland, 
 
 For reasons of our own, 
 Or spend our summer holidays 
 
 Within the " frigid zone." 
 Why they call this world a '' cold world " 
 
 We surely cannot tell, 
 We think this summer proves it 
 
 Almost as hot as " Hades." 
 
 OUR BABY. 
 
 Our precious babe, our household pet, 
 " The well spring of our pleasure," 
 
 Each hour welcomes some new art 
 Endearing this our treasure ; 
 
 Its many little winning ways, 
 
 Its cunning tricks and baby plays 
 Bewitches beyond measure. 
 
 We watch it bud from day to day, 
 
 Developing new beauties ; 
 A wonder in precociousness, 
 
 Performing baby duties ; 
 
98 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 It laughs, and coos, and '' patty cakes 
 And plays with rings and rattles, 
 
 And reaches out its dimpled hands 
 For all the goods and chattels 
 
 That tend to brighten babyhood. 
 And for them begs and battles ; 
 
 Then langhs and leaps in gay delight 
 And kicks and crows its pleasure, 
 
 Rejuvenates our quiet home 
 And fills our hours of leisure. 
 
 Till " tired nature " claims the sway 
 
 And gives the household holiday. 
 
 7 
 
 CREMATION 
 
 Cremation seems to some to be 
 A matter of economy ; 
 To save a heavy funeral tee. 
 Thus cheat the undertaker. 
 
CREMATION. 99 
 
 It Las always been our great desire 
 To wholly sliun jpost mortem fire ; 
 We'd hate to roast a son or sire, 
 Or be a body baker. 
 
 E'ow those that like this novel plan 
 To inflamate the corpse of man, 
 May use the funeral frying pan, 
 
 And gather up the ashes. 
 But we truly trust that our friends, 
 When our demise their bosom rends, 
 Will in their sorrow make amends, 
 
 Omitting cmder hashes. 
 
 l!^o matter if the freight is low, 
 Or if we were a deadhead through. 
 Who 'd want to be a broil or stew — 
 
 Thus to the turkey leveled ? 
 Oh, no ! we hope that our fate 
 Will be postponed till it's so late 
 The fashion will be out of date. 
 
 And then we can 't be deviled. 
 
100 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 RESPONSE, BY CINDER-ELLA. 
 
 !N'ot for you cremating pyre, 
 Because '' it 's been your great desire 
 To wholly shun 'post mortem fire," 
 
 And thus to save your " bakin'." 
 Because you have this hope behind you, 
 Do n't think your master will not find you, 
 Tho' deep in earth they have consigned 
 you, 
 
 Beneath a lying stone. 
 "When earthly things do fade from view. 
 And all tlie chances you 've run through, 
 Then will the devil have his due. 
 
 And he will claim his own. 
 
 ANSWER BY MRS. TAYLOR. 
 
 There is, we find, a class of folks 
 Opposed to our cremation jokes: 
 'T were vain for us to try to coax 
 Them out of cinder-ation ; 
 
CREMATION. 101 
 
 For furnace heat they sigh at heart, 
 They 'd ape the goose or gander part, 
 Or baked like pudding, pie, or tart. 
 Be dessert of creation. 
 
 To such we would sincerely say. 
 Their fiery instincts should obey, 
 We would not have our wishes weigh 
 
 Against incendiaries ; 
 But let them burn or bake by rule. 
 As suits the taste of sage or fool. 
 Our greatest aim is to keep cool, 
 
 '^ov cross the Stygian ferries. 
 
 Cremators seem to pine for fire, 
 
 ]N"or would we quench their warm desire. 
 
 Though our hope is something higher. 
 
 We here would mildly mention : 
 If they their loved ones would ignite, 
 And think a burning bier is right. 
 Why let them take a fiery flight 
 
 "Where they pave with good inten- 
 tion." 
 
102 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 ALOIsTE. 
 
 Hers is a rayless night; 
 1^0 star or gleam of liglit 
 Beams o'er the widow's blight, 
 
 As she sits alone. 
 Oh ! could her tears that flow, 
 "Wash out her woman's woe. 
 Drown every sorrow's throe 
 
 And misery's moan. 
 
 She has a sunless sky, 
 Sadly to sit and sigh, 
 Her hope is but to die 
 
 And end the pain; 
 She thinks of other days 
 "When life had sunny rays, 
 Such thoughts as nearly craze 
 
 Her busy brain. 
 
 Crushed hopes crowding come. 
 Dead joys, in a darkened home. 
 
ALONE. 103 
 
 Lost love so lately known, 
 
 Make life so drear ; 
 What is there left her now ? 
 What peace has earth to show ? 
 What bliss can life bestow 
 
 That once was dear ? 
 
 She sits in twilight duTi, 
 Vainly awaiting him, 
 Watching the shadows grim 
 
 Go faintly past ; 
 Till night, lone and still, 
 Veils earth, dark and chill. 
 How kind could sorrow kill 
 
 By one cold blast. 
 
 But there she sits alone, 
 Lists for that tender tone. 
 Lately it was her own, 
 
 Fondly to hear; 
 I^ow all is still and cold, 
 'No ray can hope unfold. 
 Her young heart has grown old 
 
 In one short year. 
 
104 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Life's early winter 's come, 
 Clouded her liappy home, 
 Made grief and woe her own, 
 
 Heartsore and sad ; 
 Who could existence crave? 
 Her love is in the grave ; 
 Would she die and save 
 
 Her going mad ! 
 
 Heart bowed in deep despair, 
 Oh, God ! hear thou her prayer; 
 Let time her loss repair. 
 
 And spring once more 
 Smile o'er her clouded years ; 
 Give her the hope that cheers, 
 Wipe out her widow's tears 
 
 And peace restore. 
 
A CRITIQUE ON THE MORRIS LYCEUM. 105 
 
 A CRITIQUE OF THE MOEEIS 
 LYCEUM. 
 
 The first od the list is President Bojce, 
 
 " The head of the heap," and the Ly- 
 ceum's choice, 
 
 Whose seeming set habits in bachelor 
 ways 
 
 Is all that robs him of womanly praise. 
 
 The next that comes under my critical 
 
 pen, 
 At the president's table sits fair Mrs. 
 
 Glenn, 
 A lady so rich in pleasing pen powers 
 That we oftentimes wish her minutes 
 
 were hours. 
 
 And then Mr. Cole, so sober and sage, 
 Whose late recitations have been quite 
 the rage ; 
 
106 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 He, too/s in tlie market — I beg you won't 
 
 tell, 
 For the girls will pursue liim and find it 
 
 a " sell." 
 
 E'ow dear Mrs. Goodrich, our matron of 
 mind, 
 
 Who can be both Biddy and Lady com- 
 bined ; 
 
 With much versatility, logic and fun. 
 
 We welcome her always as " A JSTumber 
 one." 
 
 In strides Mr. Hollister, tall and profound. 
 Who refuses to see when a laugh may be 
 
 found ; 
 Who relishes Bennett's rejecting Miss 
 
 May, 
 As though the stale tidings were fresh of 
 
 to-day. 
 
 Then chimes the "sweet singer," Miss 
 
 Huston — Ah, me ! 
 What would the Lyceum do without thee ? 
 
A CEITIQUE ON THE MORKIS LYCEUM. lOT 
 
 With, her silverest tones Jiiid dreamiest 
 
 look, 
 To recite the sad ^' Bells " and sing the 
 
 sweet " Brook " 
 
 In trijps Enoch Taylor with humor and 
 
 fun, 
 As " Dundreary," or " Paddy," or 
 
 " George Washington ; " 
 He has a strong weakness for " Widow 
 
 Bedotte," 
 Indeed, for all widows a weakness he's got. 
 
 See the bright star, May Donally, rise. 
 Whose musical voice and luminous eyes 
 Make her so brilliant in reading and song. 
 We wish we could teach her refusing was 
 wrong. 
 
 Boyd, the " tall barrister," drawls out his 
 
 say 
 In his sensible, lazy, lack-a-daisical way ; 
 
108 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 He declaims or debates, according to 
 
 choice ; 
 He 's a bachelor, having no partner but 
 
 Boyce. 
 
 Then Mrs. Thorne, whose husband is Joe, 
 Smilingly reads, in tones soft and low, 
 Good articles, essays, poems or prose — 
 She's happy at any you choose to propose. 
 
 !N"ow comes Col. Finch, so jolly and jocose, 
 Who lately, I think, got slightly morose 
 Because " Brother "Watkins " fell flat on 
 
 our ears. 
 And failed to bring any spectators to tears. 
 
 Mr. Babbitt's a name suggestive of soap. 
 Clean records and linen, and giving a 
 
 scope 
 For a lawyer of merit, who 's modest and 
 
 shy, 
 To make him a mixture to " concentrate 
 lye." 
 
A CRITIQUE ON THE MORRIS LYCEUM. 109 
 
 Then Mrs. Jones and Coffin come in, 
 Gentle, sweet readers as ever have been ; 
 Selected to serve in meter or prose, 
 They recite ''ready made" or sweetly 
 compose, 
 
 Mr. Baker, w-ho next breaks out in debate, 
 Is a favorite here, and I think I may state 
 Our friends will find it instructive delight 
 Attending his lecture here, next Friday 
 night. 
 
 AYelcome Miss Fish and Miss Boyd, in 
 
 their turn, 
 Who know so much now they have little 
 
 to learn ; 
 They give us at times an essay or two. 
 Well written and read, and then they are 
 
 through. 
 
 IsTow pretty dame Stone's is a hard name 
 
 to puff, 
 And to stick to the truth would be very 
 
 rough ; 
 
110 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 For the geuts, as she reads, the author 
 
 defies, 
 And lose their ideas in the light of her 
 
 eyes. 
 
 Col. Taylor, the " chronic debater," ap- 
 pears, 
 
 Who argues regardless of scruples or fear ; 
 
 Our " smiling attorney " do n't fret about 
 sin, 
 
 But espouses the cause that's surest to 
 win. 
 
 The sensible, cynical Simpson Glenn, 
 
 Scares us and scathes us with critical pen ; 
 
 He's not over pious, I've heard people 
 say, 
 
 But would be a Christian, were the Temp- 
 ter away. 
 
 McLaughlin, why will you persistently 
 
 part 
 Your hair in the middle, thus touching 
 
 the heart 
 
A CRITIQUE ON THE MORRIS LYCEUM. Ill 
 
 Of the girls of our church ? I think it is 
 
 wrong ; 
 For forgiveness you'll have to sing us a 
 
 song. 
 
 E'ow sweet Mrs. "Worth, our directress 
 and guide, 
 
 Her name and her nature so closely allied ; 
 
 Her gay, happy face and her laughing, 
 bright eyes, 
 
 Are a light in the Lyceum the male mem- 
 bers prize. 
 
 Mr. Goodrich writes quaintl}^ a style of 
 
 his own, 
 But favors us seldom, if we let him alone ; 
 His smiling refusals do n't quite fill the 
 
 bill. 
 Though he fancies the sugar will cover 
 
 the pill. 
 
 See, brilliant and bright as an evening star, 
 Our "brunette contralto," Lucebia Le- 
 Barr ; 
 
112 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 "Witli Miss Mary Taylor, whose talent is 
 
 fine, 
 Executes harmonies almost divine. 
 
 In stalks Frederick Peer, the " tragedian 
 
 knight/' 
 So happy in " Hamlet," so good to recite 
 The " Wreck" or the " Richards" either 
 
 one, two or three — 
 A Booth in the fnture I think I foresee. 
 
 ]^ow gentle Miss Conkling, of rustic re- 
 nown. 
 
 Has kindly consented to honor the town 
 
 And favor our meetings, in spite of the 
 trains. 
 
 And cheer us and charm us with musical 
 strains. 
 
 The next new delight we wish to impart 
 Will be in the person of Johnny B. Hart ; 
 So naodest in manner, so earnest in mind. 
 Has piety, talent, good nature combined. 
 
A CHITIQUE ON THE MORRIS LYCEUM, llo 
 
 By the way, he will lecture on the 10th of 
 this May 
 
 ConcerDiiig Victoria's blest reign of to- 
 day; 
 
 With so fine a speaker and pleasant a 
 theme, 
 
 The church will be filled with " la creme 
 
 de la creme." 
 
 In j^ops pungent Pape, with his poem 
 from Poe, 
 
 Distorted, dissected till you hardly would 
 know 
 
 How it could of all grace be so thor- 
 oughly shaven. 
 
 Could the poet arise I know he'd be 
 "Raven/' 
 
 Last though not least, is Mrs. E. Taylor, 
 Of fair ones of forty, I think I've seen 
 
 frailer I 
 But she's blest with one beauty, she 
 
 never gets blue — 
 
 !N"ot even in biddinsf the Lyceum adieu 
 10 ^ '^ 
 
114 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 OTGHT'S PHASES. 
 
 In sable mantle wrapt at rest, 
 
 Behold the glorious, gorgeous night, 
 
 Its firmament in splendor dressed 
 Its canopy the starry height, 
 
 Whose sparks illume and light the land, 
 
 And make e'en darkness bright and grand. 
 
 Then comes the moon with silver glow, 
 Whose mellow rays both charm and 
 cheer, 
 
 Benignly blessing all below^, 
 
 Before w^hose brightness disappear 
 
 Clouds and shadows, mists and shades. 
 
 Till silver sheen all earth pervades. 
 
 And then the mild, soft summer night, 
 With genial zephyrs, gentle dews, 
 
 Whose balmy breath wafts rich delight 
 O'er summer slopes where nightly 
 strews 
 
night's phases. 115 
 
 The ripened roses' perfumed leaves, 
 E'er robs the flower that it bereaves. 
 
 Then comes the frosty winter night, 
 With crystal boughs and icy brooks, 
 
 "With snow-capped hills, afar and white, 
 A-lending light to earth's dark nooks, 
 
 Diffusing rays and borrowed gleams 
 
 O'er darkened woods and shaded streams. 
 
 And then behold the dreary night, 
 Without the spell of moon or stars. 
 
 Whose somber silence seems to blight 
 Earth's finest phase, and chills and mars 
 
 The lonesome landscape, crow^ds the mind 
 
 With weird, wild fancies undefined ; 
 
 And gives each form a phantom shape. 
 Creating visions gaunt and grim, 
 
 And, as a pall that mourners drape, 
 The clouds surround the shadows dim. 
 
 Filling the heart with nameless fears, 
 
 Till night's dull darkness disappears. 
 
116 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 THE FOUISTDLma. 
 
 As I sat by my window one cool autumn 
 eve. 
 And watched the dim shades on the 
 opposite lawn, 
 
 From my silent surroundings sweet fan- 
 cies I weave, 
 Unmindful of time and the approach of 
 the dawn. 
 
 There I sat in the quiet and beauty of 
 night. 
 
 Till the sentinel stars grew dim with the 
 light. 
 
 When recalled to myself from the silence 
 around, 
 While Mature was sleeping in peaceful 
 repose, 
 'By the meager approach of a weak, wail- 
 ing sound. 
 Which on the night air at intervals rose, 
 
THE FOUNDLING. 
 
 117 
 
 Growing faint and fainter as the even- 
 ing chill 
 Crept over the landscape so somber and 
 
 still. 
 
 Whence comes that faint cry so plaintive 
 and thrilling, 
 That dies on the air at each waft of the 
 breeze ? 
 Why creeps o'er my heart this sensation 
 so chilling, 
 As I listen enchained 'mid the rustle of 
 
 trees? 
 
 At length all is quiet but the night- 
 watch's tread, 
 
 So I hasten beside him, and tell him my 
 dread. 
 
 Together we seek in the dimness of dawn, 
 
 'Mid grass and dead leaves becovered 
 
 with dew. 
 
 To unravel the mystery heard on the lawn ; 
 
 And the darkness dispelling, we find 
 
 it too true, 
 
118 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 That a babe, sweet and chubby, but a 
 
 week or two old, 
 Is lying neglected alone in the cold. 
 
 In a coarse blanket-shawl, soiled, ragged, 
 and old, 
 Lay the poor little sleeper, the picture 
 of grief. 
 
 Aweary with 'weeping and hunger and 
 cold, 
 Kind nature had brought it this happy 
 relief. 
 
 Its downy cheeks wet with the cold even- 
 ing dew. 
 
 Its chubby fists doubled and dimpled and 
 blue. 
 
 A moment we gazed on its rude little bed, 
 And Avondered what misery it must 
 atone, 
 
 Why it was left there — what mystery led 
 To expose it to perish, forsaken, alone, 
 
THE FOUNDLING. 119 
 
 "Was it treachery, wickedness, want, or 
 
 woe, 
 That tempted the mother to abandon it so ? 
 
 I lifted the babe from the damp, chilly 
 
 ground, 
 Which awakened the sleeper from its 
 
 sobbing repose. 
 And casting a startled and wild look 
 
 around, 
 It nestled again in an infantile doze. 
 While I carried it home to fire and food, 
 Dressed it more cleanly, less common and 
 
 rude. 
 
 A sweet little girl, fat, rosy, and fair, 
 Byl^ature's endowments all any could 
 crave, 
 With gentle blue eyes and light downy 
 hair 
 (On a snowy broad brow), inclining to 
 wave : 
 
120 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 In form sweetly perfect, in face near di- 
 vine; 
 
 For such do our wealthy ones daily re- 
 pine. 
 
 This poor little waif, unweicomed has 
 
 come. 
 Been rescued hy chance from hunger 
 
 and cold. 
 How early life's trials for it have begun. 
 How many new fears may its future 
 
 unfold ! 
 Left helpless and homeless to strangers 
 
 alone, 
 With not even a name to claim as its own. 
 
 I^ow the watchman returns for his found- 
 ling care. 
 I resign it reluctantly into his arms, 
 The babe is adrift again — whither and 
 where ? 
 Will it find security from life's alarms ? 
 
THE NEW YEAR. 121 
 
 It may never know father nor motlier nor 
 
 home, 
 Kind heaven protect it from evils to come. 
 
 THE ]^EW YEAR. 
 
 The year is an infant, new-born and pure- 
 hearted, 
 S^o bhir on its beauty, no tear on its 
 cheek ; 
 How long will it last, when the cal- 
 endar's started. 
 In innocent purity ? How soon will 
 it reek 
 With sorrow and sinfulness, woe and un- 
 
 kindness, 
 Till the whole year is blotted with error 
 and blindness ? 
 
 Each happy new year brings good reso- 
 lutions, 
 11 
 
122 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Which wanei and wear out ere the 
 change of the moon ; 
 "We picture new plans at each revohi- 
 tion, 
 Which we find, when to late, have 
 failed us too soon, 
 And onr visions of happiness, pleasure, 
 
 and cheerfuhiess 
 Are changed, ere the end, to sorrow and 
 tearfulness. 
 
 Oh, would that this year, unlike all 
 preceding. 
 Could show a clean record of well- 
 kept resolves — 
 Good plans well perfected, fair promises 
 heeding — 
 Instead of a picture that daily dis- 
 solves ; 
 Then, indeed, would onr future be free 
 
 from all care. 
 Were our pledges and vows kept all 
 through the year. 
 
SPRING SPECIALTIES. 123 
 
 SPEma SPECIALTIES. 
 
 Spring smacks of lamb and peas and eggs, 
 
 Of rural trips and pleasure, 
 'New jaunty hats, and pants with legs 
 
 A yard around would measure; 
 Of light cloth suits for gents to wear, 
 
 And kilted skirts for ladies, 
 Who sally out to get the air 
 
 When the house is hot as Hades; 
 It tells of times when overcoats 
 
 Are being pawned for summer, 
 When furs are in the camphor chest, 
 
 And each officious drummer 
 Commences sale of china glue 
 
 And extra patent polish. 
 When heads of houses gladly would 
 
 Each canvasser demolish ; 
 When brush and broom, and soap and 
 sand 
 
 Are order of the season ; 
 
124 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 When cleaning paint and scrubbing floors 
 Would rob you of your reason; 
 
 When home looks damp, and smells of 
 suds, 
 And dust and dirt are plenty ; 
 
 There 's not a happy husband then — 
 I'm sure not one in twenty — 
 
 And the only hope they bave to cbeer, 
 
 The season comes but once a year. 
 
 MUSIC. 
 
 Music, blest of all the arts. 
 
 We prize thy melting measures, 
 
 What other power so imparts 
 
 The magic to awaken hearts ? 
 
 We 'd have a line of crowned Mozarts 
 To tune our lives to pleasures. 
 
 Music soothes the infant's sigbs, 
 
 And lulls its baby slumbers ; 
 Its charms cement domestic ties, 
 
MUSIC. 125 
 
 Each home its mellow measures prize ; 
 It kindred hearts will harmonize 
 And chain by tuneful numbers. 
 
 Music cheers the bridal hours, 
 
 Each happiness it heightens ; 
 It stirs, it animates, empowers 
 The love and hope that may be ours, 
 And ripens buds of bliss to flowers, 
 And every blessing brightens. 
 
 Music stirs the warrior's fire. 
 
 And goads him on to glory ; 
 It kindles every brave desire 
 That love of country can inspire, 
 And makes the hero's heart beat higher 
 To 'dorn a patriot story. 
 
 The church's choicest gift and best ; 
 
 Its harmony and gladness. 
 Music's strains, religion's zest. 
 The Christian's cheering balm and rest. 
 
126 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 When hope seems dark, and heart de- 
 pressed 
 It charms away the sadness. 
 
 Last, music of the funeral train. 
 
 So slowly, sweetly sighing ; 
 It softens weeping mourners' pain; 
 It tells of rapture we '11 regain 
 "When heavenly transports we attain, 
 
 And soothes the dread of dying. 
 
 THE FAIR APE OF PHILA. 
 
 We have just read the news, 
 
 Which gave us the blues, 
 That a monkey was born in that city ; 
 
 An honor so rare 
 
 We wanted to share, 
 So jealousy seasoned our pity. 
 
 To have the fair ape 
 Show its infantile shape 
 
THE FAIR APE OF PHILA. 127 
 
 First out in that public garden, 
 
 So far away from 
 
 Her country and kind, 
 
 Aloof from her comrades 
 
 She never ma^^ find, 
 
 ]^or the trees of the tropics. 
 
 For which she has pined. 
 Her case is truly a hard one. 
 
 This young kangaroo 
 
 Born out at the Zoo, 
 Made a ripple in public feeling. 
 
 Which gushes and glows. 
 
 And clamors and crows, 
 
 Hnjointing at once, 
 
 Each Darwinian nose. 
 All love from foreign apes stealing. 
 
 A Quakeress monkey 
 Is a curious thing, 
 A grave and gay combination ; 
 Its infantile antics 
 'Tw^ill have to bring 
 
128 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Into sober sedatenees ; 
 And, poor little thing, 
 Away all its native 
 Amusements must fling 
 To claim its Quaker relation. 
 
 We can 't help thinking 
 
 'T would have been for the best, 
 
 Conld this fair young ape 
 
 Been born out West, 
 Though the Darwin theory goes to prove 
 Its right to the city of "■Brotherly Love J' 
 
 DECORATION ODE. 
 
 Bring fragrant flowers, rich and rare, 
 Let wreathes and roses scent the air. 
 Go strew them freely o'er the graves 
 Of buried heroes, sainted braves. 
 The noisy din of war is o'er, 
 The battle drum shall wake no more. 
 
DECORATION ODE. 129 
 
 ISTow quietly their bosoms rest, 
 Those silent hearts by valor blest. 
 On sacred soil their ashes lie, 
 Blest beneath a summer sky; 
 Their deeds of glory, brave and bold, 
 Their valiant will, their dying told. 
 Their honest hearts were in the strife, 
 For liberty they gave th eir life. 
 May every patriot in our land 
 Beside those sainted heroes stand. 
 And fill their names with warrior praise, 
 And deck their graves with lasting bays. 
 May woman's gentle, soothing voice 
 !Now sing sweet anthems and rejoice. 
 That, as she wreathes the flowers o'er 
 The mounds of loved ones, now no more, 
 Their names and deeds will ever bloom, 
 While flowers fade upon their tomb. 
 They 've fought their earthly battles well, 
 We 'd crown them all with immortelle. 
 
130 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 THE HONEYMOOK 
 
 With " loves " and " doves " 
 
 And white kid gloves 
 The "honeymoon" v^ill wane away; 
 
 Each turn 's a kiss, 
 
 This new-born bliss 
 Will last for thirty days, they say. 
 
 With gifts and glances 
 
 And wedding dances, 
 The time speeds onward far too fast ; 
 
 Such blushing, sighing, 
 
 There 's no denying 
 This novel love 's too sweet to last. 
 
 They love and languish 
 
 In blissful anguish. 
 Till all around swims with delight ; 
 
 Their vows and pledges 
 
 Set your teeth on edges, 
 And they " bill and coo " till it dims your 
 sight. 
 
THE MODEL MAN. 131 
 
 They seem so spooney 
 
 They 're almost luny, 
 This pair so lately joined in one. 
 
 They loll and linger, 
 
 Toy with hand and finger, 
 And think life's pleasures just begun. 
 
 Mistaken mortals ! 
 
 Life's opening portals 
 Admit a glare too bright too last ; 
 
 And " loves young dream," 
 
 "Which now may seem 
 Elysian joy, will soon be past.. 
 
 THE MODEL MAI^. 
 
 I have an ambition to try to portray 
 
 In rhythm a masculine model ; 
 So seldom such rarities brighten my way 
 To the fields of wild fancy I'm driven 
 to stray, 
 
 ^>^ 
 
132 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 And to paint ray ideal in a rliymin,^ array 
 Will force me tlie muses to coddle. 
 
 Well, this model of mine is married, of 
 course, 
 For how could a bachelor be one ? 
 So I gauge him by marital morals and 
 
 force ; 
 As a husband, he merits a crown for a 
 
 cross, 
 For he acts as a beau instead of a boss — 
 I 'd go to the moon to see one. 
 
 He seldom or never goes out after night, 
 
 As other men do, less devoted. 
 To lodges and clubs, and to see every 
 
 sight, 
 Whether it be wrong or whether it be 
 
 right ; 
 He never comes home either cranky or 
 tight — 
 A fact which should be duly noted. 
 
THE MODEL MAN. 133 
 
 He never comes in from the office and 
 
 scowls 
 If dinner is late or not ready, 
 l^OY frowns nor feazes, nor fusses nor 
 
 howls, 
 ]!!^or goes round the house and grumbles 
 
 and growls, 
 Il^or blesses the knife as he cuts up the 
 
 fowls, 
 But always seems happy and steady. 
 
 He 's a model, indeed — content on a crust. 
 
 E"o sighing for honor or riches ; 
 He 's as blind as a bat to cob- webs and 
 
 dust ; 
 Il^or any domestic derangement or rust 
 "Would he notice for worlds, for fear of a 
 muss— 
 His thoughtfulness truly bewitches. 
 
 A button less shirt, or a hole in his hose, 
 He views with happy contentment. 
 
134 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 'Nor savagely scowls if liis best Sunday 
 
 clothes 
 Get mussed in the closet ; nor blusters 
 
 nor blows, 
 ISTor curses the rocker for stumping his 
 
 toes ; 
 My model is free from resentment. 
 
 He never keeps letters for days in his hat 
 
 That I give him to mail in the morning, 
 
 But mails them at once, so punctual and 
 
 pat. 
 Whether it's from duty or fear of a spat, 
 I 'm prepared not to say ; I only know 
 that 
 He mails them without further warning. 
 
 He never complains of long dry goods 
 bills, 
 Nor squirms when the shoe bill 's pre- 
 sented ; 
 
 ]^or scolds nor scowls when the milliner 
 fills 
 
THE MODEL MAN. 135 
 
 A long sheet of foolscap with bonnets 
 and frills, 
 
 Bnt pays like a m,an, if it breaks him or 
 kills, 
 With an air that's resigned and con- 
 tented. 
 
 And then too, he 's ever so ready to go, 
 At the sound of the slightest sugges- 
 tion. 
 To the opera, theater, lecture, or show ; 
 Consenting at once, he never says no, 
 Nor looks bored and cross if it 's stupid or 
 slow. 
 But retains the same happy expression. 
 
 He does not complain, in our travels, of 
 
 trunks, 
 Or baskets, or bundles, or boxes. 
 But smilingly looks at the over-stored 
 
 bunks 
 In happy complacence — never worries or 
 
 spunks; 
 
136 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 This model of mine 's no cross, surly 
 lunks, 
 But a martyr quite equal to Fox's. 
 
 My ideal man do n't growl for a week, 
 
 Should I get a few duds for my travels, 
 But gives money and time, to sew and to 
 
 seek 
 'New dresses and wraps, too many to 
 
 speak, 
 And seems to enjoy each extravagant 
 freak 
 That the mystery of toilet unravels. 
 
 Some men will forget in their every- day 
 lives 
 The courtesies due to their spouses ; 
 They get kind of used to their homes 
 
 and their wives, 
 ISTeglecting the walks, the chats, and the 
 
 drives. 
 Upon which connubial happiness thrives ; 
 But devotion in mine never drowses. 
 
THE STRICKEN SOUTH. 137 
 
 N'ow, gents, stop your blushing; I did 
 
 not intend 
 To step on the toes of a single male friend. 
 Your modesty might personalities dread, 
 So I will say that this model depicted — is 
 
 dead. 
 
 THE STRICKEN SOUTH. 
 
 [Summer of 1878.] 
 
 The pestilence that gaunt and grim 
 
 Stalks through our sunny land. 
 Leaves traces marked with misery 
 
 In many a broken band ; 
 It scatters friends and severs ties, 
 
 And makes whole cities wail, 
 I^eglected dead unburied lies 
 
 To tell the mournful tale. 
 
 One fickle moon has scarcely passed 
 Since first that blighting blow 
 
 Crushed hopes of years — all aims of life 
 Seemed paralyzed with woe ; 
 
138 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Bereavement, blight, and bitterness 
 Eeigii o'er our stricken land, 
 
 And leave the lone and desolate 
 Beside their dead to stand. 
 
 Their sunny skies in beauty smile 
 
 O'er scores of scenes of woe, 
 And seem to mock the misery 
 
 The fatal records show ; 
 Dread burdens every waft of breeze 
 
 Which pestilence imparts ; 
 The very balmy air they breathe 
 
 Brings poison to their hearts. 
 
 Their streets deserted, kindred fled, 
 
 All busy life is still ; 
 Their household gods all scattered lie 
 
 Before death's dauntless will; 
 A grave-like silence reigns supreme, 
 
 E'o sound but moans and sighs 
 That echoes on the quiet air 
 
 As some new victim dies. 
 
 Fond lips that prayed but yesterday 
 Around the social hearth. 
 
IP EVER' I CEASE TO LOVE. 139 
 
 Are closed in death's oblivion 
 And mute to sounds of earth ; 
 
 Babes and mothers rest as one 
 Beneath the silent sod, 
 
 Together summoned sire and son 
 Before the bar of God. 
 
 For bleeding hearts and stricken homes 
 
 We plead thy pitying care, 
 And beg for mercy at thy will, 
 
 Oh, God! hear thou our prayer; 
 Relent, and stay the messenger 
 
 That lurks at every door ; 
 Ketard his ruthless rava2:e3 
 
 And health and hope restore. 
 
 ^' IF EYER I CEASE TO LOYE.^ 
 
 Then let the sun w^ith rosy light 
 'No longer shine, nor moon by night 
 Her mellow rays around, above. 
 Illume — if I should cease to love. 
 
140 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 May starry heiglits grow dim and dark, 
 In absense of that heavenly spark, 
 All ligature's gems in skies above 
 Suspend — if I should cease to love. 
 
 May dancing rills and crystal brooks 
 E-ejoice no more mid shady nooks, 
 IsTor wind in glee through moonlit grove 
 Or glen — if I should cease to love. 
 
 "Without this magic spark divine 
 To warm and cheer this heart of mine, 
 l^OT earth beneath nor heaven above. 
 Could compensate for loss of love. 
 
 The moon and stars, the sun and air, 
 The joyous birds and flowers rare, 
 All to me would worthless prove, 
 If ever I should cease to love. 
 
 This lovely land, these sunny skies, 
 'No charm would have for loveless eyes, 
 No song from hall or sight from grove 
 Enchant — if I should cease to love. 
 
APPEAL FOR MEMPHIS OPtPHANS. 141 
 
 AN APPEAL FOE THE MEMPHIS 
 ORPHANS. 
 
 iRecitedat the St. PauVs Children's Social by Joe. E. Young, 1878.] 
 
 We are baxDpj to meet yoo, 
 In gladness we greet you, 
 
 A welcome to all we extend ; 
 Your happy, bright faces 
 Show nothing hut traces 
 
 Which kindness and charity lend. 
 
 While we revel in pleasure, 
 Let 's try in a measure 
 
 To remember our brothers abroad, 
 Who are suffering and sighing. 
 And in misery crying, 
 
 For comforts they can not afford. 
 
 One short, fatal season 
 Has given them reason 
 
 For deploring their sorrows for years ; 
 Taken father and mother. 
 
142 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 And sister and brother, 
 
 And left them alone in their tears. 
 
 With no one to love them 
 Bat the Father above them, 
 
 IsTo home but the one in the skies ; 
 "No hope for the morrow 
 To soften their sorrow, 
 
 'No mother to quiet their cries. 
 
 To the cold care of strangers. 
 And the world's many dangers. 
 
 Their lot in the future is cast: 
 They will miss everj^ hour 
 The sweet, soothing power 
 
 Of the love that now lives in the past. 
 
 So, comrades, we pray you, 
 Let no motive stay you 
 
 From helping the orphans in need; 
 Their friends are all taken, 
 Their homes all forsaken, 
 
 Their childhood's a desert indeed. 
 
WAITING FOR FROST. 143 
 
 WAITmG FOE FEOST. 
 
 In tlie silence of night, 
 
 In the dullness of day, 
 "When disease and distress 
 
 Hold pre-eminent sway ; 
 The sad, stricken souls 
 
 In their misery tossed, 
 E'ow yearningly sigh 
 
 For the coming of frost. 
 
 The friends and afflicted 
 
 "Watch evening and morn, 
 For a waft of cool breeze, 
 
 That a hope may be borne 
 To the souls of the sighing, 
 
 Whose life it may cost, 
 This continued and fatal 
 
 Delay of the frost. 
 
 Their hopes still deferred 
 Each day brings regret, 
 While the suffering die, 
 
144 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 And the end is not yet. 
 Foud wish of the weary, 
 
 Chilled, blighted, and crossed, 
 Each day disappointed, 
 
 In the coming of frost. 
 
 By the bed of the dying, 
 
 By the side of the bier, 
 The bereaved ones sit sighing 
 
 In sorrow and fear ; 
 And others, deserted, 
 
 In agony tossed 
 On their feverish couch 
 
 Are praying for frost. 
 
 Oh, who can half measure 
 
 The sorrow and gloom 
 That enshrouds our fair land 
 
 Like a dark, dreary tomb. 
 May God in his mercy. 
 
 Ere hope is all lost, 
 Relentingly hasten 
 
 The coming of frost. 
 
 Memphis, Oct. 1878. 
 
OCTOBER. 145 
 
 OCTOBER. 
 
 October winds are softly sigliing" 
 
 Through the stately oaks and pines, 
 Autumn leaves are wildly flying 
 
 As all nature now declines; 
 Brightly through the varied branches 
 
 Breaks the slantino^ autumn sun. 
 And chirping through the thinning bushes 
 
 See the swallows homeward come. 
 
 As I watch decaying nature 
 
 That surrounds our rural home, 
 Revel in these autumn glories, 
 
 Listen to the soft wind's moan. 
 See the leaves from green to golden 
 
 Change their summer hue and fall, 
 The flowers fade, the branches wither, 
 
 It seems the •' common lot of all." 
 
 In life we find a fleeting springtime. 
 
 Kite with fancy's wildest dream, 
 13 " 
 
146 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 But giving early place to summer, 
 Whicli with ripened beauties teem ; 
 
 Then comes autumn, sober autumn, 
 Roses scattered, hopes decayed, 
 
 When spring dreams and summer beauty 
 With life's flowery fancies fade. 
 
 But the pensive, sad reflections, 
 
 Musing on those autumn days, 
 Imparts to us a saddened pleasure, 
 
 Surrounds our life with gentle haze; 
 Takes us through the faded flowers, 
 
 Crushed and scattered 'neath our tread; 
 Leads us through forsaken bowers, 
 
 Shows us nature withered — dead. 
 
 " OAK.LAWN," Memphis, Tenn. 
 
 GEO. FEAlSrCIS TRAm, 
 
 THE WILD WIT OF THE DAT. 
 
 Variable, versatile, stormy, and wild. 
 At times we 're entranced, and then again 
 riled 
 
THE WILD WIT OF THE DAY. 147 
 
 At his wayward remarks and blustering 
 
 strain, 
 Peculiar alone to Geo. Francis Train. 
 
 • Original ever his words and his ways, 
 But orthodox seldom in aught that he 
 
 says ; 
 His fancy, so fertile, takes many a flight, 
 But leaves Truth and Religion quite out 
 
 of sight. 
 
 Ambitious, progressive, political scion, 
 Reminding us oft of a wild, roaring lion. 
 Uncaged and untamed in a woody domain, 
 A manner peculiar to G-eo. Francis Train. 
 
 His lectures all seem so wild and erratic. 
 His manner, at times, so raving, dramatic, 
 In a whirlwind of passion he prances and 
 
 strides. 
 Then subdues — and his rage into poetry 
 
 glides. 
 
148 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 A perfect enigma, and a genius as well, 
 A tornado, a storm, and then comt s a 
 
 spell 
 Of brightness and sunshine, 'mid thunder 
 
 and rain, 
 Peculiar alone to Geo. Francis Train. 
 
 Ambitious of honors, position and fame. 
 Determined to win a notorious uame, 
 His wisb, 3'OU will see. in every oration. 
 Is deathless desire to govern the nation ! 
 
 To help on his cause, he solicits the aid 
 Of all colors and sexes and sorts ever 
 
 made ; 
 Generous indeed — he's the workingman's 
 
 friend ! 
 To hear him — he has only a dollar to 
 
 spend ! 
 
 Glorious republic! If the prophecy's 
 true. 
 
 When Train is elected — we'll have noth- 
 ing to do 
 
Washington's birthday. 149 
 
 But enjoy perfect peace abroad and at 
 
 home, 
 The nation will think the millennium's 
 
 come ! 
 
 WASHmGTON'S BIRTHDAY. 
 
 As years roll on and ages pass, 
 
 This name of martial glory 
 Leaves traces on the calendar, 
 Which tell the yearly story 
 Of this our '' prince of patriots'" birth, 
 The bravest, boldest, best of earth, 
 Whose mighty will and warrior worth 
 Won battles great and gory. 
 
 It tells of valor long since gone, 
 
 Of victories commended. 
 Of wonders seen and wonders told. 
 Of buried braves and heroes bold. 
 Cast in nature's choicest mold, 
 
 Kow on earth's bosom blended. 
 
150 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 We sigh in sadness o'er the wreck 
 
 Of this historic season, 
 We'd have its pleasures all return, 
 We 'd have its patriot bosoms burn. 
 We 'd have our nation ever spurn 
 
 The slightest trace of treason. 
 
 We'd wander through memorial halls 
 In quest of antique treasures. 
 
 We 'd linger round those storied walls. 
 Renewing bygone pleasures. 
 
 And wishing for that olden time. 
 
 When our dead hero, in his prime, 
 Contested unjust measures. 
 
 We 'd hear of battles lost and won. 
 Of dangers braved and ended. 
 
 We 'd hear of patriots, long since gone. 
 Whom nature most intended 
 
 To live in fame and memory 
 
 Throughout a long eternity. 
 
Washington's birthday. 151 
 
 We'd have our sainted warrior's name. 
 
 So famed in song and story, 
 And rendered to our memories dear 
 
 By records of its glory, 
 Kept green on history's sacred pages, 
 From now throughout the lapse of ages. 
 
152 PREFACE. 
 
 ADIEU TO "Mr DEAR FIVE HUIST- 
 . DRED." 
 
 We seldom see a preface in the back of 
 a book, or a frontispiece in tbe middle, 
 but as I have always been considered a 
 little eccentric, I will make a new depar- 
 ture, and thank ray indulgent readers 
 here for their patient perusal of these 
 pages. I locate these honeyed words in 
 the rear as a reward of merit to any one 
 that is martyr enough to reach them by 
 the regular route, and those that have not 
 energy and endurance enough to do so 
 deserve to lose these chunks of wisdom 
 and words of cheer. In the preceding 
 poems are depicted sentiments to suit my 
 changing moods ; streaks of mirth and 
 wails of misery; childhood's mischief and 
 woman's woe ; a mixture of ecstasy and 
 agony, to suit " the gay or the grave, the 
 
PREFACE. 153 
 
 lively or severe." !N"ow, should they fail 
 to find a responsive echo in my readers' 
 hearts, then is " Othello's occupation 
 gone," and I will fold ray hands, dry my 
 quill, dismiss ray muse, and write no 
 more.