THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
.WiUVith COLLECTION 
 
 %J/t—C4 ^i^Clj/ 
 
 *J/k~& ^v S <r£t 
 
 jr?*- 
 

 4 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1880, by 
 
 B. F. CRAIG, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 
 
 PRINTED AND ELECTROTYPED BY 
 
 Ramsey, Millet & Hudson, Kansas City, Mo. 
 
 1880. 
 
TO THE RISING GENERATION THIS BOOK IS AFFECTION- 
 ATELY DEDICATED BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 

CONTENTS. 
 
 The Story of a Hundred Years. Pen Pictures of 
 Eventful Scenes and Struggles of Life. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Scene i — Introduction 9 
 
 Scene 2— The Hero of Shirt-Tail Bend ..... 18 
 
 Scene 3 — The Separated Sisters < . • 27 
 
 Scene 4 — Roxie Daymon and Rose Simon .... 39 
 
 Scene 5 — The Belle of Port William . . . . . . . 5° 
 
 Scene 6 — The Second Generation . . . . . . ■ 62 
 
 g cene 7 — War Between the States 77 
 
 History, Science, Philosophy and Art, Blended in 
 Original Lectures. 
 
 Lecture 1 — On Liberty and Law 93 
 
 Lecture 2— On Time and Motion 106 
 
 Lecture 3— On Mind and Organism I21 
 
 Lecture 4 — On Man and Animals x 3 8 
 
 Lecture 5— On Spirit and Soul x 5 6 
 
contents. 
 
 Genius and Poetry. 
 
 Genius 175 
 
 My Native Land — address to Young America . . .176 
 
 Rise and Fall of Old Nick— to the Devil 180 
 
 Confederate Flag — to the Ladies of Plattsburg . .183 
 
 Family and Fate — to a Female Relative 184 
 
 Twilight — Intermediate Body and Soul . . . . . .187 
 
 The Devil and Tom Walker — a Dialogue 1 88 
 
 The Beautiful Snow — an Emblem of Virtue . . . .192 
 The Workmen's Saturday Night — a Tribute to Hon- 
 est Labor 196 
 
 Inside View of the United States Mail — Revealed by 
 
 the Angel of Observation 198 
 
 Hard Times 202 
 
 The Power of Truth 204 
 
 The Wheels of Time 204 
 
 The Days of My Childhood 205 
 
 Ideas and Idols — Essay on Jacob and Laban . . . 206 
 
 The Dying Drunkard to His Soul . 208 
 
 The Moneyless Man vs. Moneyless Woman . . . .211 
 The Poet vs. Tom Watson's Deer 213 
 
;p™ p 
 
 / 
 
 EN 
 
 J 
 
 ICTUSES 
 
 Of Eventful Scenes and Struggles of Life. 
 
 SCENE FIRST— INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It is fashionable to preface what we have to say. 
 
 Some men build a large portico in front of the edifice 
 they erect. 
 
 This may attract the eye of a stranger, but no real com- 
 foit can be realized until we enter the house. 
 
 And then no display of fine furniture or studied form 
 of manners can equal a whole-soul, hearty welcome. 
 
 Besides, no long proclamation of the entertainment can 
 equal in interest the entertainment itself. 
 
 Without further preliminary ceremony, I will introduce 
 you to the sad experience of a living man : — 
 
 Born in the house of respectable parents, on the south- 
 ern bank of the beautiful Ohio, in the dawn of the nineteenth 
 century, and educated in a log school house, the first scenes 
 of my manhood were upon the waters of the great Mississippi 
 river and its tributaries. Leaving home at an early age, no 
 hopeful boy was ever turned loose in the wide world more 
 ignorant of the traps and pit-falls set to catch and degrade 
 the youth of this broad and beautiful land. 
 
 At Vicksburg, Natchez, Under-the-Hill, and the Cres- 
 
10 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 cent City, with armies of dissipation — like the Roman Caesar 
 — I came, I saw, I conquered. 
 
 I had been taught from my earliest infancy that a thief 
 was a scape-goat — on the left-hand side of the left gate, where 
 all the goats are to be crowded on the last day. And that 
 
 saved me. 
 
 For I soon discovered that the gambler and the thief acted 
 upon the same theory. 
 
 Having no desire to live through the scenes of my life 
 again — I am not writing my own history, but the history of 
 some of the events in the lives of others that I have witness- 
 ed or learned by tradition — in the execution of the task I 
 shall enter the palace like the log cabin — without stopping 
 to ring the bell. 
 
 Although I have been a diligent reader for more than 
 forty years, my greatest knowledge of human character has 
 been drawn from observation. For prudential reasons some 
 fancy names are used in this story, but the characters drawn 
 are true to the letter. Local, it is true, but may they not rep- 
 resent character throughout this broad continent ? In 1492 
 Columbus discovered America — a Rough Diamond — a New 
 
 World. 
 
 Our fathers passed through the struggle of life in the rough, 
 and the log cabin ought to be as dear to the American hea.t 
 as the modern palace. Emancipated from ideas of locality, 
 I hope, and honestly trust that the sentiments in the Rough 
 Diamond will be treasured in the hearts of the millions of my 
 countrymen, and that no American character will ever be • 
 come so brilliant that it cannot allude with a nat've pride to 
 the Rough Diamond — our country a hundred years ago. 
 
 And with a thousand other ideas brought to the mind, 
 and blended with the Rough Diamond, may the good Angel 
 of observation rest with the reader as you peruse these pages. 
 
 Near the seat of the present town of Helena, Arkansas, 
 
 1 
 
PEN PICTURES. 11 
 
 old Billy Horner and Henry Mooney made a race on two 
 little ponies, called respectively Silver Heels and the Spotted 
 Buck. 
 
 The distance was one quarter of a mile, and the stake 
 one hundred dollars. 
 
 Wishing to obtain the signature of the Governor of Ar- 
 kansas to a land grant and title to a certain tract of land on 
 the Mississippi river, I determined to attend the races. 
 
 The ponies were to start at twelve o'clock, on the 15th 
 day of May. I forget the year, but it was soon after the 
 inauguration of steam navigation on the Mississippi. 
 
 On the 14th day of May I left Bush Bayou, twenty miles 
 below Helena and fifteen miles back from the river, where 
 I was on a tour of surveying, in company of two negro boys, 
 from fifteen to twenty years of age, to assist me. Our route 
 was down the Bayou, which was evidently an old bed of the 
 great river. How long since the muddy and turbulent wa- 
 ters had left this location and sought the present channel no 
 human calculation couid tell. Trees had grown up as large 
 as any in other localities in the Mississippi bottoms, in some 
 places extending entirely across the Bayou ; in other places 
 there was an open space one hundred yards wide and some- 
 times a mile long, but there were many places where the tim- 
 ber extended from shore to shore for miles. In such places 
 our only guide was a blaze upon the trees, made by the first 
 navigators of the Bayou. We started in a canoe, eight feet 
 long and eighteen inches wide, with a large trunk, a number 
 of tools, and three men. When all were on board the top 
 of our boat was only three-quarters of an inch above the 
 water. In this critical condition the negroes had to go as 
 freight, for they are proverbially too awkward to manage a 
 nice thing. Near the close of our journey we were attacked 
 by an alligator. He was sixteen feet long, and larger than 
 our boat. His attack frightened the negroes so badly that it 
 
12 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 was impossible to keep them still, and we came very near be- 
 ing upset. I fired several times at the alligator, with a 
 double-barreled shot-gun, charged with twenty-four buckshot, 
 but the shot only glanced from his scales and fell into the 
 water. At last, frightened by the loud cries of the negroes, 
 the animal left us. 
 
 When we arrived on the bank of the Mississippi the 
 Western hemisphere had blindfolded the eye of day; the riv- 
 er was bank full, the turbulent waters bearing a large quantity 
 of drift wood down the stream. Upon the Arkansas shore 
 there was no sign of civilization. On the Mississiopi shore, 
 two miles below, there was a cabin, and the faint light of the 
 inmates was the only sign of civilization that met our view. 
 To cross the great river, in the dark, with its turbulent wa- 
 ters and drift wood, with a barque so heavily laden, was 
 worse than the encounter with the alligator. I was young, 
 brave and enthusiastic. Directing the negroes to place Them- 
 selves in the bottom of the boat, and not to stir hand or foot 
 at the risk of being knocked overboard with the paddle, I 
 headed our little barque for the light in the cabin, which gave 
 us a course quartering down stream. To have held her 
 square across the stream, she would have undoubtedly filled 
 with water. The night was dark, but the air was still as the 
 inaudible breath of time. 
 
 Knowing that the perils of the sea, without wind, are 
 abated one hundred fold, I made the venture, and landed 
 safely at the Mississippi cabin. 
 
 Eighteen miles below Helena, and on the opposite side 
 of the river, I passed the night, with a determination to be 
 on the race ground the next day at twelve o'clock. I was 
 up early in the morning. As I passed out the cot of my 
 friend, in front of me the great father of waters rolled on in 
 his majesty to the bosom of the ocean. 
 
 On the background the foliage of the forest cast a green 
 
PEN PICTURES. 13 
 
 shade upon the gray light of the morning. Every animal on 
 the premises had sought refuge in the cane brakes from the 
 ravages of the green-head fly and the gallinipper. Like 
 Richard the Third — I was ready to cry, a horse — a horse — my 
 kingdom for a horse. 
 
 Through the dim distance, half concealed by the cane t 
 I discovered a mule, and was fortunate enough to bridle him. 
 He was an old mule; some said the first Chickasaw French- 
 man that ever settled in St. Louis rode him from the north 
 of Mexico to the Mississippi river. 
 
 Others said that he was in the army of the First 
 Napoleon, and had been imported across the water. Be 
 this as it may, he was a good saddle mule, for I arrived upon 
 the race ground fifteen minutes ahead of time. 
 
 I obtained the desired signature and saw the Spotted Buck 
 win the race. But many said it was a jockey race, and that 
 Silver Heels was the fleetest horse. The races continued 
 through the evening. I had no desire to bet, but if I had, 
 I should have bet on the fast man and not the fast horse 
 
 After this event, and nearly half a century ago, I was 
 standing on the street in Vicksburg. It was early in the 
 morning, and the city unusually quiet. My attention was 
 attracted in the direction of the jail by women running in- 
 doors and men rushing along the street; I saw sticks, stones, 
 and bricks flying, and men running as in pursuit of some 
 wild animal, and as I caught a glimpse of the figure of the 
 retreating man, the sharp sound of a rifle gun rang out upon 
 the morning air. 
 
 Following on to a spot on the street where a large crowd 
 of men had collected, I saw the face of a dead man as the 
 body was being turned over by one of the bystanders. 
 The lineaments of the cold, marble face, spoke in 
 a language not to be mistaken — that the dead was, in life, a 
 br.ive man. 
 
" PEN PICTURES. 
 
 I soon learned that the name of the dead man was 
 " Alonzo Phelps," and that he had been tried for the crime 
 of murder and sentenced by the court to be hanged by the 
 neck until he was dead, and this was the day for his execu- 
 tion ; that he had broken, or found an opportunity to leave 
 the jail, and nothing would stop him but the rifle-gun in the 
 hands of an officer of the law. 
 
 I also learned that he had written a confession of his 
 crimes, the manuscript of which was then in the jail, for he 
 had knocked the keeper down with a stone ink-stand, with 
 which he had been furnished to Write his confession. 
 
 By the politeness of the jailor I was permitted to exam- 
 ine the confession, which closed with these remarkable words, 
 ' ' To-morrow is the day appointed for my execution, but I will not 
 hang.'" 
 
 The confession was afterward published. I read it many 
 times, but have forgotten most of it. I remember he said the 
 first man he ever murdered was in Europe, and that he was 
 compelled, for safety, to flee the country and come to Amer- 
 ica. There was nothing so unusual in this, but the manner 
 in which he disposed of his victim was singular, and more 
 particularly the revelation he gave of his thoughts at the 
 
 time. 
 
 He said he carried the body to a graveyard, and, with a 
 spade that had been left there, he shoveled all of the dirt out 
 of a newly-made grave until he came to the coffin. He then 
 laid the body of the murdered man on the coffin and refilled 
 the grave. "I then," says he, "left the graveyard, and 
 spent the balance of the night in reflections. How strange, 
 I thought, it would be for two spirits, on the last day, to find 
 themselves in the same grave." " I thought," says he, "if the 
 relatives of the rightful owner of the grave should, in after 
 years, conclude to move the bones of their kinsman, 
 when they dug them up there would be two skulls, four arms, 
 
PEN PICTURES. 15 
 
 and so on, and how it would puzzle them to get the bones of 
 their kinsman." 
 
 After reading this confession I regretted very much that 
 I had never seen Alonzo Phelps while living, for there was 
 blended in his composition many strange elements. But that 
 part of his confession that gives interest to our story was the 
 papers taken from the man he murdered in Europe, of which 
 we have spoken. He concealed the papers, in a certain 
 place, on the night he buried the man, and, as he was com- 
 pelled to flee the country, said papers were, a long time after- 
 ward, discovered by reading his confession made in America. 
 With the settlement of the West, the navigation of the 
 western waters was one of the principal industries. Keel 
 and flat bottom boats were the first used. Keel boats were 
 propelled against the stream w'th long poles, placed with one 
 end on the bottom of the stream and a man's shoulder at the 
 other end, pushing the boat from under him, and conse- 
 quently against the stream. Flat bottom boats only drifted 
 with the current, sometimes bearing large cargoes. 
 
 Louisville, Kentucky, was one of the principal points 
 between Pittsburg and New Orleans. Here the placid waters 
 of the beautiful river rushed madly over some ledges of rocks, 
 called the falls of Ohio. Many reshipments in an early day 
 were performed at this point, and if the boat was taken over 
 the falls her pilot for the trip to New Orleans was not consid- 
 ered competent to navigate the falls. Resident pilots, in 
 Louisville, were always employed to perform this task. 
 
 And few of the early boatmen were ever long upon the 
 river without having acquaintances in Louisville. 
 
 Beargrass creek emptied its lazy waters into the Ohio at 
 a point called, at the time of which we write, the suburbs of 
 Louisville. 
 
 In a long row of cottages on the margin of Beargrass 
 creek, that has long since given place to magnificent build- 
 
16 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 ings, was the home of a friend with whom I was stopping. 
 
 Rising early one morning, I found the neighborhood in 
 great excitement; a woman was missing. It was Daymon's 
 wife. She had no relatives known to the people of Louis- 
 ville. She was young, intelligent, and as pure from any stain 
 of character as the beautiful snow. 
 
 Daymon was also young. He was a laborer, or boat 
 hand, frequently assisting in conducting boats across the falls. 
 But he was dissipated, and in fits of intoxication frequently 
 abused his wife. 
 
 All who knew Daymon's wife were ready to take the 
 dark fiend by the throat who had consigned her beautiful 
 form to the dark waters of Beargrass creek. 
 
 o 
 
 Everyone was busy to find some sign or memento of 
 the missing woman. 
 
 A large crowd had gathered around a shop, where a 
 large woden boot hung out for a sign — a shoe shop. When 
 I arrived on the spot a workman was examining a shoe, and 
 testified that it was one of a pair he had previously made for 
 Daymon's wife. The shoe had been picked up, early that 
 morning, on the margin of Beargrass creek. Suspicion 
 pointed her finger at Daymon, and he was arrested and 
 charged with drowning his wife in Beargrass creek. 
 
 Daymon was not a bad-looking man, and, as the evi- 
 dence was all circumstantial, I felt an uncommon interest in 
 the trial, and made arrangements to attend the court, which 
 was to sit in two weeks. 
 
 On the morning of the trial the court room was crowded. 
 The counsel for the state had everything ready, and the pris- 
 oner brought to the bar. The indictment was then read, 
 charging the prisoner with murder in the first degree. And 
 to the question, are you guilty or not guilty ? Daymon an- 
 swered not guilty, and resumed his seat. Silence now pre- 
 vailed for a few minutes, when the judge inquired, "is the 
 
PEN PICTURES. 17 
 
 state ready ?" The attorney answered, ' ' yes. " The judge in- 
 quired, "has the prisoner any one to defend him ?" Daymon 
 shook his head. 
 
 "It is then the duty of the court to appoint your defense," 
 said the judge, naming the attorneys, and the trial proceeded. 
 The witnesses for the state being sworn, testified to the shoe 
 as already described. In the mean time Beargrass creek had 
 been dragged, and the body of a woman found. The fish 
 had eaten the face beyond recognition, but a chintz calico 
 dress was sworn to by two sewing women as identical to one 
 they had previously made for Daymon' s wife. 
 
 The state's attorney pictured all of this circumstantial 
 evidence to the jury in an eloquence seldom equaled. 
 
 But, who ever heard a lawyer plead the cause of a mon- 
 eyless man ? The attorneys appointed to defend Daymon 
 preserved only their respectability in the profession. 
 
 And the jury returned their verdict guilty. Nothing now 
 remained but to pronounce the sentence, and then the execu- 
 tion. 
 
 The judge was a crippled man, and slowly assumed an 
 erect position. Then casting his eyes around the court room, 
 they rested upon the prisoner, and he paused a moment. That 
 moment was silent, profound, awful ! for every ear was open 
 to catch the first sound of that sentence. The silence was 
 broken by a wild scream at the door. The anxious crowd 
 opened a passage, and a woman entered the court room, her 
 hair floating upon her shoulders, and her voice wild and 
 mellow as the horn of resurrection. That woman was Day- 
 mon' s wife. 
 
SCENE SECOND. —THE HERO OF SHIRT-TAIL 
 
 BEND. 
 
 Two boys in one house grew up side by side, 
 By the mother loved, and the father's pride 
 With raven locks and rosy cheeks they stood, 
 As living types of the family blood. 
 Don, from the mother did his mettle take, 
 Dan, the Prodigal — born to be a rake. 
 
 In the month of May, 1816, the Enterprise landed at 
 Louisville, having made the trip from New Orleans in twen- 
 ty-five days. She was the first steamboat that ever ascended 
 the Mississippi river. The event was celebrated with a pub- 
 lic dinner, given by the citizens of Louisville to Captain 
 Henry M. Shreve, her commander. 
 
 A new era was inaugurated on the western waters, yet 
 the clouds of monopoly had to be blown away, and the free 
 navigation of the Mississippi heralded across the land. 
 
 The startling events of the times are necessarily con- 
 nected with our story. 
 
 For the truth of history was never surpassed by fiction, 
 only in the imagination of weak minds. 
 
 Sixty miles above Louisville, on the southern bank of 
 the Ohio, stood a round-log cabin, surrounded by heavy tim- 
 ber. In the background a towering clift reared its green- 
 covered brow to overlook the valley — the woodland scenery 
 seemed to say: "here is the home of the wolf and the wild 
 cat," and it gave the place a lonesome look. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 19 
 
 A passing neighbor had informed the inmates of the cabin 
 that a saw-mill was coming up the river. Two barefooted 
 boys stood in the front yard, and looked with hopeful eyes 
 upon the wonder of the passing steamer. The gentle breeze 
 that waved their infant locks, whispered the coming storms 
 of the future. 
 
 It was the Washington, built by Captain Shreve, and 
 was subsequently seized for navigating the western waters. 
 The case was carried to the Supreme Court of the United 
 States, where the exclusive pretensions of the monopolist to 
 navigate the western waters by steam were denied. 
 
 Some of the old heroes who battled for the free naviga- 
 tion of the western waters, left a request to be buried on the 
 bank of the beautiful Ohio, where the merry song of the 
 boatman would break the stillness of their resting place, and 
 the music of the steam engine soothe their departed spirits. 
 Well have their desires been fulfilled. 
 
 Some long and tedious summers had passed away — not- 
 withstanding a congressman had declared in Washington City, 
 " that the Ohio river was frozen over six months in the year, 
 and the balance of the season would not float a tad-pole." 
 
 The music of the steam engine or the Ohio and Missis- 
 sippi rivers, had given rise tounforseen industries. Don and 
 Dan Carlo, standing in the half-way house between boyhood 
 and manhood, without inheriting a red cent in the wide 
 world with which to commence the battle of life, grown up 
 in poverty, surrounded by family pride, with willing hearts 
 and strong arms, were ready to undertake any enterprise 
 that glimmering fortune might poin-t out. 
 
 A relative on the mother's side held the title papers, signed 
 by the Governor of Arkansas, to a tract 01 land on the Mis- 
 sissippi river, who ga^e the privilege to Don and Dan Carlo, 
 to establish a wood yard on said premises. 
 
 For steam navigation was not only a fixed fact, but the 
 
20 PEN PICTURES, 
 
 boats were much improved — many of them taking on board 
 twenty-four cords of wood at one landing 
 
 "Competition is the life of trade," and several enterpris- 
 ing woodmen were established in this locality ; and when a 
 passing steamboat would ring lor wood after night, all anxious 
 to show the first light, the woodmen, torch in hand, would 
 run out of their cabins in their shirt-tails. From this circum- 
 stance, that locality was known by the boatmen from Pitts- 
 burgh to New Orleans, by the homely appellation of the Shirt- 
 Tail Bend. 
 
 That, like many other localities on the Mississippi, was 
 first settled by wood-choppers. The infantile state of society 
 in those neighborhoods can be better imagined than de- 
 scribed. The nearest seat of justice was forty miles, and the 
 highest standard of jurisprudence was a third-rate county 
 court lawyer. Liltle Rock was, perhaps, the only point in 
 the State that could boast of being the residence of a print- 
 ers' devil, or the author of a dime novel. 
 
 The wood-cutters were the representative men of the 
 neighborhood. The Gospel of peace and good will to men 
 was, perhaps, slightly preserved in the memories of some 
 who had been raised in a more advanced state of civilization „ 
 The passing days were numbered by making a mark on the 
 day-board every morning, and a long mark every seventh day, 
 for the Sabbath. 
 
 Quarrels concerning property seldom, if ever, occurred. 
 The criminal code or personal difficulties were generally set- 
 tled according to the law of the early boatmen, which was : 
 if two men had a personal quarrel, they were required to 
 choose seconds, go ashore and fight it out. The seconds 
 were chosen to see that no weapons were used and no foul 
 holds were taken. It was a trial of physical strength, and 
 when the vanquished party cried ''enough!" the difficulty 
 was considered settled. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 21 
 
 I am speaking of times prior to the inauguration of the 
 Arkansas Bowie knife and pistol Many of the early wood- 
 cutters on the Mississippi were men of sterling integrity. 
 Don Carlo never wrote a line for the future antiquarian to 
 ponder over, or dreamed that he was transmitting anything 
 to posterity ; yet, by his bold and noble conduct, he stamped 
 the impress of his character upon the memories of all who 
 witnessed the blossom of society in the woods on the Missis- 
 sippi river. 
 
 Brindle Bill was a wood-chopper, but he never worked 
 much at his profession. He was one of the class of wood- 
 cutters that were generally termed the floating part of the 
 population. This class were employed by the proprietors of 
 the wood yards, to cut wood by the cord — for one hundred 
 cords they received fifty dollars. 
 
 Brindle Bill was five feet and eight inches high, with 
 square shoulders and as strong as a buffalo — and although he 
 was classed with the floating population, he had been in that 
 locality for more than a year and was a shining light at head- 
 quarters. 
 
 This was the resort of all who claimed to be fond of fun. 
 It was an old cabin that was built by some early backwoods- 
 men, who had deserted it and moved on. It was some dis- 
 tance from the river, and left unoccupied by the woodmen. 
 Situated in the edge of a small cane-brake, a large quantity 
 of cane had been cut to clear the way, and piled against the 
 west end of the cabin. 
 
 Here the jug was kept. These men had no brilliantly 
 lighted saloon for a resort, but human nature is the same un- 
 der all circumstances. In this locality, like all others, there 
 were two parties, or two spirits — one was to improve the 
 other to degrade society. As we have said, Brindle Bill was 
 the leading spirit of his party. He was always ready to fill 
 the jug and play a social game at cards — he only bet, as he 
 
22 PE* PICTURES. 
 
 said, to keep up a little interest in the game. Brindle Bill 
 always had a pocket full of money. He loved to tell long 
 stories, and frequently related previous combats, in which he 
 came off the victor. As the test of manhood was physical 
 strength, Brindle Bill was the bully of the settlement — no one 
 desired a personal quarrel with him. 
 
 Some said that S. S. Simon, the proprietor of a wood 
 yard, sided with Brindle Bill — whether this was true or not 
 — Simon's wife, was one of the leading spirits of the other 
 party. She was a woman of few words, but the force of her 
 character was felt by the whole neighborhood. 
 
 Cord, or steam wood, was the principal source of revenue, 
 and large quantities were annually sold, thousands of dollars 
 come into Shirt-tail Bend, but there was no improvement, 
 they had no school house, and a church and post-office were 
 not thought of. 
 
 Don and Dan Carlo, proprietors of one of the principal 
 wood yards, dear brothers, were animated by different spirits. 
 Dan was a fast friend of Brindle Bill. Don was a silent spirit 
 of the other party. They were equal partners in the wood 
 b siness, and when a sale was made, Dan received half of 
 he money, but it so happened that all expenses were pa i# d 
 by Don. This had been the situation for a long time. In 
 vain Don appealed to Dan — tried to arouse family pride. 
 The two kept bachelors hall, and many times, through the 
 long vigils of the night, Don laid before Dan, their situation, 
 scoffed at by a la-ge family relationship, because they were 
 poor, and then representing that they must fail in their bus- 
 iness, because half the money received would not pay 
 expenses, to all of this, Dan would promise to reform — and 
 promise, and promise, and pro?nise, but would always fail. 
 
 In the dusk of the evening, after a large sale of wood 
 had been made, at the Carlo wood yard, S. S. Simon, Dan 
 Carlo, Sundown Hill and Brindle Bill were seen making their 
 
PEN PICTURES. 23 
 
 way slowly to headquarters. Simon's wife remarked to a per- 
 son near her, " Dan's money will go to-night." 
 
 Don Carlo was seen sitting alone in his cabin, his hand 
 upon his forehead, his eyes gazing intently upon the floor. 
 The burning coal upon the hearthstone glimmered in the 
 glory of its element; the voice of the wild ducks upon the 
 river shore, told the deep, dead ho'^r of the night, and aroused 
 Don Carlo from his reverie — the sun had crossed the meridian 
 on the other side of the globe, and no sound of the foot-fall 
 of his absent brother disturbed the stillness of the hour. 
 
 Don Carlo picked up a pamphlet that lay upon the table 
 and turned over the leaves, it was the confession of Alonzo 
 Phelps. 
 
 He said mentally, Phelps was a very bad, but a very 
 brave man. He defied the city of Vicksburg, defied the 
 law, and the State of Mississippi. 
 
 He thought of the generations before him, and family 
 pride filled his veins with warm blood. Don Carlo was ready 
 to face Brindle Bill, or the Brindle Devil, in defence of his 
 rights, and he started for headquarters. 
 
 Cool, calculating woman — Simon's wife, the patient 
 watcher for her absent husband, saw Don Carlo wending his 
 way through the stillness of the night, to headquarters. Her 
 keen, woman's wit, told her there was trouble ahead. 
 
 Silently, and unseen, with fire brand in hand, (this was 
 before friction matches were thought of,) she left the Simon 
 cabin. 
 
 When Don Carlo arrived at headquarters, the door and 
 window was fastened on the inside, a faint light from a tallow- 
 candle, that glimmered through the cracks of the cabin 9 
 whispered the deep laid scheme of the inmates— S. S. Simon, 
 Sundown Hill and Brindle Bill were banded together to 
 swindle Dan Carlo. Don Carlo went there to enter that 
 cabin. Quick as thought he clambered up the corner of the 
 
2-4 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 jutting logs, and passed down the chimney. In front of him, 
 around a square table, sat four men. On the center of the 
 table a large pile of shining silver dollars, enlivened the light 
 of the tallow candle. 
 
 The players looked up in amazement ; had an angel from 
 heaven dropped among them, they would not have been 
 more astonished. While the men sat, between doubt and 
 fear, Don Carlo raked the money from the table, and put 
 it in his pocket. 
 
 Brindle Bill was the first to rise from the table, he held 
 up four cards, claimed the money, said he was personalty 
 insulted by Don Carlo, and by G — d he should fight it 
 out. He chose S. S. Simon for his second, and boastingly 
 prepared for the contest. 
 
 Don Carlo used no words, nor did he choose any second ; 
 Sundown Hill and Dan Carlo looked at each other, and at 
 S. S. Simon, with a look that said, we stand by Don Carlo. 
 
 S. S. Simon hallooed fair play, and Brindle Bill pitched, 
 in. Brindle Bill was the stoutest man, Don Carlo the most 
 active, the contest was sharp, and very doubtful, notwithstand- 
 ing the boasting character of Brindle Bill, true pluck was upon 
 the side of Don Carlo. At this critical moment, Simon's 
 wife appeared upon the scene of action, the door of the 
 cabin was fast, Simon was on the inside. She could hear 
 the blows and smell the blood, for a lucky lick from Don 
 had started the blood from Brindle Bill's nose, but could not 
 see or know the combatants. Quick as thought, she applied 
 the fire-brand to the cane pile, on the west end of the cabin. 
 A strong breeze from the west soon enveloped the roof of 
 the cabin in flames. The men rushed out into the open air 
 much frightened. Simon's wife grabbed her husband and 
 dragged him toward their home, with loud and eloquent cries 
 of sha?ne. The contest was ended, and Don Carlo had the 
 money. Brindle Bill appealed to the men of his party to see 
 
PEN PICTURES. 25 
 
 that he should have fair play. His appeals were all in vain, 
 the fear of him was broken, and he had no great desire to 
 renew the contest. Seeing no hope in the future, Brindle 
 Bill left the new settlement. And Don Carlo was justly 
 entitled to the appellation of the Hero of Shirt- Tail Bend. 
 
 Society was started upon the up-grade. Some planters 
 commenced to settle in the Bend, little towns were now spring- 
 ing up on the Mississippi, and Dan Carlo out of his element, 
 made it convenient to visit the towns. A new era had dawned 
 upon the criminal code in Arkansas — the pistol and the bowie 
 knife, of which writers of fiction have portrayed in startling 
 colors. Shortly after these events, Dan Carlo was found dead 
 in a saloon. 
 
 It was in April, late one Saturday evening, the steam- 
 boat " Red Stone" blew up sixty-five miles above Louisville, 
 while landing on the Kentucky shore; the boat burned to the 
 water edge, and many lives were lost. Men returning from 
 the South, to the homes of their nativity, were consigned to 
 the placid waters of the Ohio for a resting place, others were 
 mangled and torn, left to eke out a weary life, without some 
 of their limbs. The scene upon the shore was heart-render- 
 ing above description. The body of one poor man was picked 
 up one-quarter of a mile from the boat, in a corn field, every 
 bone in his body was broken, and its fall to the earth made 
 a hole in the ground, eighteen inches deep. How high he 
 went in the air can only be conjectured, but we may safely 
 say it was out of sight. Several were seen to fall in the mid- 
 dle of the river, who never reached the shcre. The dead 
 and dying were gathered up and carried to the houses nearest 
 at hand. The inhabitants of the shore had gathered for three 
 miles up and down the river — all classes and ages were seen 
 pulling pieces of the wreck and struggling persons to the shore a 
 Two girls or half-grown women passed by me walking slowly 
 upon the pebbled shore, gazing into the water, when some 
 
26 
 
 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 distance from me, I saw one of them rush into the water up 
 to her arm-pits and drag something to the shore. I hastened 
 to the spot, and the girls passed on toward the wreck. Sev- 
 eral men were carrying the apparently lifeless body of a man 
 upon a board in the direction of the half-way castle a place 
 of deposit for the dead and dying. His identity was ascer- 
 tained by some papers taken from his pocket, it was — Don 
 Carlo— the " Hero of Shirt-Tail Bend." 
 
SCENE THIRD — THE SEPARATED SISTERS. 
 
 On the stream of human nature's blood, 
 
 Are ups and downs in every shape and form, 
 
 Some sail gently on a rising flood, 
 
 And some are wrecked in a tearful storm. 
 
 Tom Fairfield was descended from one of the best fam- 
 ilies in Virginia. Yet he was animated by what we may call 
 a restless spirit. He ran away from home at twelve years of 
 age, and came to Kentucky with a family of emigrants, who 
 settled near Boone Station, in 1791. Kentucky, until after 
 Wayne's treaty, in 1795, was continually exposed to incur- 
 sions from the Indians ; yet, before Tom's day of manhood, 
 the bloody contest between the white and the red men had 
 terminated on the virgin soil of the new-born State — Ken- 
 tucky was admitted into the Union in 1792. Yet the heroic 
 struggles with the Indians by the early settlers were fresh in 
 the memories of all. Prior to the settlement of Kentucky 
 by white men, the Southern and Northwestern tribes of In- 
 dians were in the habit of hunting here as upon neutral 
 ground. No wigwam had been erected, but it was claimed 
 by all as a hunting ground. The frequent and fierce con- 
 flicts that occurred upon the meeting of the Indian tribes, to- 
 gether with conflicts with white men, caused the Indians first 
 to call Kentucky "The dark and bloody ground" At no point 
 on the American Continent had the hatred between the two 
 races risen to a higher point. Long after the peace between 
 
28 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 England and America, and the close of the war of American 
 Independence, the conflict between the white and red men 
 in Kentucky was a war of extermination. The quiet cabin 
 of the white man was frequently entered, under cover of 
 night, by some roving band of Indians, and women and child- 
 ren tomahawked in cold blood. White men when taken by 
 them, whether in the field at work, or behind a tree, watching 
 their opportunity to shoot an Indian, were taken off to their 
 towns in Ohio and burned at the stake, or tortured to death 
 in a most cruel manner. No wonder the early settler in 
 Kentucky swore eternal vengeance against the Indian who 
 crossed his path, whether in peace 01 war. In a land where 
 the white woman has cleaved the skull of the red warrior 
 with an ax, who attempted to enter her cabin rifle in hand, 
 from whence all but her had fled — who shall refuse to re- 
 member the heroines of the early settlers, and the historic 
 name of the dark and bloody ground. 
 
 When Tom Fairfield arrived at manhood, the golden wing 
 of peace was spread over the new-born State, from the Cum- 
 berland Mountains to the Ohio river. 
 
 A tract of land embracing a beautiful undulating surface, 
 with a black and fertile- soil, the forest gr.owth of which is 
 black walnut, cherry, honey locust, buckeye, pawpaw, sugar 
 maple, elm, ash, hawthorn, coffee-tree and yellow poplar, 
 entwined with grape vines of large size, which has been de- 
 nominated the garden of Kentucky. 
 
 Many of the phrases, familiar to our grandfathers, have 
 become obsolete, such as latch-string, bee-crossing, hunting- 
 shirt, log-rolling, hominy-block, pack-horse and pack-saddle. 
 
 While many of their customs have been entirely forgo - 
 ten, or never known, by the present generation, a history of 
 some of the events of the time cannot fail to be interesting. 
 
 Tom had learned to read and write in Virginia, and this 
 accomplishment frequently gave him employment, for many 
 
PEN PICTURES. 29 
 
 of the early settlers were glad to pay him for "his assistance 
 in this line of business, and it suited Tom to change his place 
 of abode and character of employment. He was industrious, 
 but never firm in his purpose, frequently commencing an 
 enterprise, but always ready to abandon it in the middle. 
 
 Socially he was a great favorite at all wedding parties, 
 and weddings were of frequent occurrence about this time, 
 
 For while Kentucky was over-run with Indian^ the 
 female portion of families wer-e slow to immigrate to the scene 
 of such bloody strife, and many of the early planters were 
 young men, who found themselves bachelors for the want of 
 female association. But with the influx of population now 
 taking place, females largely predominated. 
 
 A wedding in Kentucky at that time was a day of re- 
 joicing, and the young men in hearing distance all considered 
 themselves invited. A fine dinner or supper was always 
 prepared; of wine they had none, but distilling corn whisky 
 was among the first industries of Kentucky, and at every 
 wedding there was a custom called running for the bottle ', which 
 was of course a bottle of whisky. 
 
 The father of the bride, or some male acquaintance at 
 the house of the bride — about one hour previous to the time 
 announced for the ceremony — would stand on the door-step 
 with the bottle in his hand, ready to deliver it to the first 
 young man that approached him. At the appointed time the 
 young men of the neighborhood would rendezvous at a point 
 agreed upon, and when all were ready and the word^? given, 
 the race for the bottle, on fine horses, to the number of fif- 
 teen or twenty, was amusing and highly exciting. Tom had 
 the good fortune to be the owner of a fleet horse — to own a 
 fine horse and saddle was ever the pride and ambition of the 
 young Kentuckian — and he won many bottles ; but the end 
 proved that it was bad instead of good luck, for Tom sub- 
 sequently became too fond of the bottle. 
 
BO PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Tom was young and hopeful, far away from his kindred, 
 and he also aiarried the daughter of an Englishman, who 
 was not so fortunate as to be the owner of any portion of 
 the virgin soil, but distinguished himself as a fine gardener, 
 and all the inheritance Tom received with his wife was a 
 cart-load of gourds. 
 
 You laugh, but you must remember that a few pewter 
 plates and cob-handle knives was all that adorned the cup- 
 boards of some cf our fathers, and gourds of different size 
 made useful vessels. Coffee was not much in use, and in the 
 dawn of the Revolution a party of brave Americans had thrown 
 a ship-load of tea into the sea. 
 
 Tom, like many of the young planters, built a cabin upon 
 a tract of land, under the Henderson claim, as purchased 
 from the Cherokee Indians, which claim was subsequently set 
 aside by the State of Virginia. 
 
 Tom, as we have said, was of a restless disposition, and 
 from a planter he turned to be a boatman. Leaving his 
 family at home in their cabin, he engaged to make a trip to 
 Fort Washington (Cincinnati, then a village) on a keel-boat, 
 descending the Kentucky and ascending the Ohio rivers. 
 On this trip he first beheld the stupendous precipices on the 
 Kentucky river, where the banks in many places are three 
 hundred feet high, of solid limestone, and the beautiful coun- 
 try at he mouth of the Kentucky, on the Ohio river. 
 
 He was absent from home three months, for prior to steam 
 navigation, the Ohio had been navigated by keel and flat- 
 bottom boats for a quarter of a century, and many of the old 
 boatmen were men of dissipated habits — bad school for Tom. 
 When he returned home it was too late in the season to raise 
 a crop. The next winter was long and cold. Tom and his 
 little family keenly felt the grasp of poverty, and many 
 times, in the dead hour of night, when the cold wind made 
 the only audible sound on the outside, the latch-string of 
 
PEN PICTURES, 31 
 
 the cabin door had been pulled in, and the fire burned down 
 to a bed of coals, Tom and his wife sat quietly and sadly by 
 the dim light of a tallow candle, and told the stories of their 
 families. Tom intended at some future time to return to 
 Virginia and claim an inheritance, although, as he said, he 
 was not the eldest son of his father, and by the laws of Vir- 
 ginia the eldest son is entitled to all of the estate in land, 
 which, as he said, caused him to leave home ; but from other 
 sources he hoped in the future to reap the benefit of an in- 
 heritance. 
 
 Tom's wife, in her turn, told the story of her ancestors 
 in the old country, and how she lived in hope of some revival 
 of family fortune, which by the discovery of the necessary 
 papers, would give her the means of rising above the cold 
 grasp of poverty, so keenly felt by them; and many times 
 through the long nights of winter, in that secret chamber 
 where no intruder comes, Tom and his wife, whom he always 
 called by the endearing name of mother, with a heart-felt 
 desire to honor his infant children, had many long and in- 
 teresting interviews upon the subject of the ups and downs of 
 family fortune. 
 
 The joyous days of spring dawned upon the little house- 
 hold, and with it new ideas in the mind of Tom Fairfield; 
 it was to become a preacher ; why not ? He could read — and 
 must according to the philosophy of the people understand 
 the Scriptures. Whatever may have been the delinquency 
 of the early settlers in Kentucky, they were devotedly a re- 
 ligious people. 
 
 Ministers of the gospel were not required to study The- 
 ology ; to be able to read was the only accomplishment, ex- 
 cept the call\ it was thought indispensable that a preacher 
 should have a divine call. 
 
 Whatever may be said of ignorant worship, many of the 
 early preachers in Kentucky were men of sterling piety, and 
 
32 
 
 PEN* PICTURES. 
 
 did much to elevate and improve the rude society of the 
 backwoodsmen. What they lacked in learning they made 
 up in earnestness and a strict devotion to the Master's cause ; 
 what they lacked in eloquence they made up in force. Some 
 extracts from the sermons of these old men have been pre- 
 served. I quote from one handed me by a friend : 
 
 "As Mo-ses lif-ted up the ser-pent in the wil-der-ness — 
 ah ! e-v-e-n so must the Son of M-a-n be lif-ted up — ah ! That 
 who so-e-v-e-r look up-on him — ah ! m-a-y not p-e-r-i-s-h — 
 ah ! but h-a-ve e-v-e-r-1-a-sting 1-i-f-e — ah !" 
 
 Notwithstanding this halting delivery, these old men laid 
 the foundation of the refined and elegant society now en- 
 joyed in Kentucky. 
 
 Tom Fairfield wished to improve his fortune and posi- 
 tion in society — pay for preaching was small — but the many 
 little needs of a family frequently fell to the lot of a preach- 
 er's wife. With this object in view, and waiting for the call, 
 Tom and his wife attended all the meetings. A wonderful 
 plmwmenon occurred about this time, that upset all of Tom's 
 calculations — it was called the Jerks. It was principally con- 
 fined to the females — but men sometimes were victims of it. 
 
 During the church service, and generally about the time 
 the preacher's earnestness had warmed the congregation, the 
 jerks would set in. Some one in the congregation would 
 commence throwing the head and upper part of the body 
 backward and forward, the motion would gradually in- 
 crease, assuming a spasmodic appearance, until all discretion 
 would leave the person attacked, and they would continue 
 to jerk regardless of all modesty, until they jerked themselves 
 upon the floor. 
 
 Tom and his wife one day attended the meeting of a 
 sect, then called the ' ' New Lights." During the service Tom's 
 wife was attacked with the jerks \ the motion slow at first be- 
 came very rapid, her combs flew among the congregation, 
 
PEN PICTURES. 33 
 
 and her long black hair cracked like a wagon whip. Tom 
 was very much frightened, but with the assistance of some 
 friends the poor woman was taken home, and soon became 
 quiet. Tom never attended meeting again. 
 
 The old adage that bad luck never comes single-handed, 
 was now setting in with Tom. Soon after this event, Tom 
 returned from his labor one cold, wet evening. Mother, as 
 he always called his wife, was very dull and stupid. Tom 
 had attended to all the duties of the little household, pulled 
 in the latch-string of the cabin door, covered the coals on 
 the hearth with ashes — as the old people used to say, to keep 
 the seed of fire. 
 
 In the morning when he awakened, his faithful wife, 
 dear mother, as he called her, was by his side, cold and dead. 
 With three little daughters in the cabin and nothing else 
 in the wide world, for the title to his land had been set aside. 
 Disheartened with his misfortunes, Tom, with his little daugh- 
 ters, moved to the Ohio river. 
 
 Port William was the name given to the first settlement 
 ever made at the mouth of the Kentucky river. 
 
 Seventy miles above Louisville the Kentucky mingles its 
 water with the Ohio river, the land on the east side of the 
 Kentucky and on the south side of the Ohio, narrows into a 
 sharp point — the water is deep up to the shore. When navi- 
 gation first commenced this point was the keel-boat landing, 
 and subsequently the steamboat landing. 
 
 Here, Dave Deminish kept a saloon, (then called a gro- 
 cery). One room sixteen feet square, filled with cheap John 
 merchandise, the principal article for sale was corn whisky, 
 distilled in the upper counties, and shipped to Port William 
 on keel boats, — this article was afterwards called old Bourbon. 
 Port William was blessed with the O !-be-joyful. Red- 
 head Sam Sims run a whisky shop in connection with his 
 tavern, but the point, or landing was the great place of at- 
 
 3 
 
34 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 traction, here idle boatmen were always ready to entertain 
 idle citizens. Old Brother Demitt owned large tracts of 
 land, and a number of slaves, and of course he was a leader 
 in society, why not ? he was a member of the church if he 
 did- stand on the street corners, tell low anecdotes, and drink 
 whisky all-day-long. And old Arch Wheataker owned slaves 
 to work for him, and he, of course, could ride his old ball- 
 face sorrel horse to Port William, drink whisky all day and 
 run old Ball home at night. Late in December one dark 
 night, the Angel of observation was looking into the room of 
 Dave Deminish. A tall man with silver gray hair was pleading 
 with Dave for one more dram. They stood by the counter 
 alone, and it was late, the customers had all gone save Tom 
 Fairfield. Tom offered to pledge his coat as a guarantee for 
 payment, Dave was anxious to close the store (as he called 
 it), and he said mildly as he laid his hand softly on Tom's 
 shoulder, "Keep your coat on, Tom," and handing him a 
 glass of spoiled beer, affected friendship. In attempting to 
 drink the beer Tom heaved. Dave was insulted, and kicked 
 hirn out, and closed the door. On reeling feet, alone, and 
 in the dark, Tom departed. In the middle of the night com- 
 menced a wonderful snow storm, and the dawn of morning 
 found the earth covered with a white mantle twenty-four 
 inches deep. 
 
 The ever diligent eye of the Angel of observation was 
 peering into the cabin of Tom Fairfield, two miles distant 
 from the Poi?it, and one mile north of Brother Demitts. 
 Roxie, the eldest daughter, found a few sticks of wood, 
 which happened to be in doors, made up a little fire and was 
 cooking some corn cakes. Rose had covered Suza with a 
 tattered blanket, and wsas rocking her in a trough. The cold 
 wind upon the outside carried away the inaudible murmurs 
 of the little sisters. 
 
 At one o'clock in the evening the little fire had burned 
 
PEN PICTURES. 35 
 
 out. Rose was still engaged with the baby, and Roxie pass- 
 ed the time between childish conversations with Rose about 
 the deep snow, and their absent father, who she said would 
 get the snow out of his way and come home after a while, 
 then peeping out the crack of the door to watch for some 
 one passing. Old Father Tearful had passed the cabin, his 
 face and head wrapped up with a strap of sheepskin to ward 
 off the cold, and he did not hear the cries of Roxie Fairfield. 
 One hour later Suza was crying piteously and shivering with 
 the cold. 
 
 Roxie said firmly to Rose, you pet and coax the poor 
 thing and I will go to Aunt Katv's and get some one to come 
 and, and get us some wood, making a great effort to conceal 
 a half suppressed sob, and a starting tear. Then patting 
 Rose on the head with her little hand said coaxingly, "Be 
 good to-to-the baby, and I'll soon be back." Leaving both 
 little sisters in tears, and pulling her little bonnet close 'round 
 her ears, she left the cabin, and struggled bravely through 
 the deep snow; fortunately when she gained the track of 
 Father Tearful' s horse she had less difficulty. The old man 
 was riding a Conestoga horse whose feet and legs, from their 
 large size, made quite an opening in the snow. 
 
 The Angel eye of observation peering into the east room 
 of Brother Demitt's house, (he lived in a double cabin of 
 hewn logs,) saw Aunt Katy sittting on one corner of the 
 hearth-stone, busily plying her fingers upon a half finished 
 stocking; upon the other corner lay a large dog; stretched 
 at full length ; half way between the two sat the old house-cat, 
 eying the mastiff and the mistress, and ready to retreat from 
 the first invader. The hickory logs in the fire-place were 
 wrapping each other with the red flames of heat, and the cold 
 wind rushing 'round the corner of the house was the only 
 sound that disturbed the stillness of the hour. 
 
 With a sudden push the door swung upon its hinges, 
 
36 PEN PICTURES, 
 
 and Roxie Fairfield, shivering with the cold, appeared upon 
 the stage. Aunt Katy threw her head back, and looking 
 under her specs, straight down her nose at the little intruder, 
 said, in a voice half mingled with astonishment, " Roxie 
 Fairfield, where in the name of heaven did you come from ?" 
 Roxie, nothing abashed by the question, replied in a plain- 
 tive tone, " Daddy didn't come home all night nor all day — 
 and — and we're 'fraid the baby'll freeze." The simple narra- 
 tive of the child told Aunt Katy the whole story. She knew 
 Tom Fairfield, and although a drunkard, he would not thus 
 desert his children. " Come to the fire, child," said Aunt 
 Katy in a milder tone, and as she turned to the back d or 
 she said, mentally, "dead, and covered with snow" She contin- 
 ued, "Joe, I say, Joe, get old Ned and hitch him to the 
 wood slide, and go after the Fairfield children — quick — call 
 Dick to help hitch up." Dick was an old negro who had 
 the gout so bad in his left foot that he could not wear a 
 shoe, and that foot wrapped up in a saddle blanket, made an 
 impression in the snow about the size of an elephant's track. 
 
 Roxie made a start to return as she came, and while 
 Aunt Katy was coaxing and persuading her to wait for the 
 slide, Joe, a colored boy, and old Ned were gotten ready for 
 the venture. Dick, by Aunt Katy's directions, had thrown 
 a straw bed upon the slide, and bearing his weight upon his 
 right foot, he caught Roxie by the arms and carefully placed 
 her upon it. 
 
 Joe, as he held the rope-reins in one hand and a long 
 switch in the other, turned his eyes upon the face of 
 the little heroine, all mingled with doubt and fear, saying in 
 a harsh tone, ' ' keep yourself in the middle of the slide, 
 puss, for I'm gwine to drive like litenin'." 
 
 Aunt Katy stood in the cold door gazing at the running 
 horse and slide until they were out of sight, and then turning 
 to Dick who, standing by the chimney, was holding his left 
 
PEN PICTURES. 37 
 
 foot close to the coals, said, "Tom Fairfield is dead and 
 under the snow, poor soul ! and them children will have to 
 be raised, and I'll bet the nittin' of five pair of stockins that 
 old Demitt will try to poke one of 'em on me." 
 
 Joe soon returned with the precious charge. He had 
 Suza, the baby, in her rocking trough, well wrapped up in 
 the old blanket and placed in the middle of the slide, with 
 Roxie seated on one side and Rose on the other. The slide 
 had no shafts by which the old horse could hold it back ; it 
 was Dick's office to hold back with a rope when drawing 
 wood, but he was too slow for this trip, and Joe's long switch 
 served to keep old Ned ahead of the slide when traveling 
 down hill. 
 
 A large fire and a warm room, with Aunt Katy's pacify- 
 ing tones of voice, soon made the little sisters comparatively 
 happy ; she promised them that daddy would soon return. 
 
 The news soon spread through the neighborhood, and 
 every one who knew Tom Fairfield solemnly testified that he 
 would not desert his children; the irresistible conclusion 
 was that while intoxicated he was frozen, and that he lay 
 dead under the snow. 
 
 A council of the settlers, (for all were considered neigh- 
 bors for ten miles 'round,) was called, over which Brother 
 Demitt presided. Aunt Katy, as the nearest neighbor and 
 first benefactress, claimed the pre-emption right to the first 
 choice, which was of course granted. Roxie, the eldest, 
 was large enough to perform some service in a family, and 
 Rose would soon be ; Suza, the baby, was the trouble. 
 Aunt Katy was called upon to take her choice before other 
 preliminaries could be settled. 
 
 Suza, the baby, with her bright little eyes, red cheeks 
 and proud efforts, to stand alone, had won Aunt Katy's 
 affections, and she, without any persuasion on the part of 
 
33 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 old Demitt, emphatically declared that Suza should never 
 leave her house until she left it as a free woman. 
 
 Mrs. Evaline Estep and Aunt Fillis Foster were the con- 
 tending candidates for Rose and Roxie. 
 
 Brother Demitt decided that Aunt Fillis should take 
 Roxie, and Mrs. Estep should be foster mother to Rose, with 
 all the effects left in the Fairfield cabin. 
 
 These ladies lived four miles from the Demitt house, in 
 different directions. With much persuasion and kind treat- 
 ment they bundled up the precious little charges and de- 
 parted. 
 
 While the Angel of sorrow hovered 'round the little 
 hearts of the deparated sisters. 
 
w 
 
 SCENE FOURTH — ROXIE DAYMOX AND ROSE 
 
 SIMON. 
 
 The road of life is light and daik, 
 Each journeyman will make his mark; 
 The mark is seen by all behind. 
 Excepting those who go stark blind. 
 Men for women mark out the way, 
 In spite of all the rib can say ; 
 But when the way is rough and hard. 
 The woman's eye will come to guard 
 The footsteps of her liege and lord, 
 With gentle tone and loving word, 
 
 Since the curtain fell upon the closing sentence in the 
 last scene, many long and tedious seasons have passed away. 
 
 The placid waters of the beautiful Ohio have long since 
 been disturbed by steam navigation ; and the music of the 
 steam engine echoing from the river hills have alarmed the 
 bat and the owl, and broke the solitude around the graves of 
 many of the first settlers. Many old associations have lived 
 and died. The infant images of the early settlers are men 
 and women. In the order of time Roxie Fairfield, the hero- 
 ine of the snow storm, and Aunt Fillis Foster, claim our 
 attention. 
 
 With a few back glances at girlhood, we hasten on to 
 her womanhood. Aunt Fillis permitted Roxie to attend a 
 country school a few months in each year. The school house 
 was built of round logs, was twenty feet square, with one log 
 
40 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 left out on the south side for a window. The seats were 
 made of slabs from the drift wood on the Ohio River, (the 
 first cut from the log, one side flat, the other having the shape 
 of the log, rounding) ; holes were bored in the slabs and pins 
 eighteen inches long inserted for legs. These benches were 
 set against the wall of t'.ie room, and the pupils arranged 
 sitting in rows around the room. In the center sat the teacher 
 by a little square table, with a switch long enough to reach 
 any pupil in the house without rising from his seat. And 
 thus the heroine of the snow storm received the rudiments of 
 an education, as she grew to womanhood. 
 
 Roxie was obedient, tidy — and twenty, and like all girls 
 of her class, had a lover. Aunt Fillis said Roxie kept every- 
 thing about the house in the right place, and was always in 
 the right place herself; she said more, she could not keep 
 house without her. By what spirit Aunt Fillis was animated 
 we shall not undertake to say, but she forbade Roxie's lover 
 the prerogative of her premises. 
 
 Roxie's family blood could never submit to slavery, and 
 she ran away with her lover, was married according to the 
 common law, which recognizes man and wife as one, and the 
 man is that one. 
 
 They went to Louisville, and the reader has already 
 been introduced to the womanhood of Roxie Fairfield in the 
 person of Daymon's wife. 
 
 The reader is referred to the closing sentence of Scene 
 First. Daymon was granted a new trial, which never came 
 off, and the young couple left Louisville and went to Chicago, 
 Illinois. Roxie had been concealed by a female friend, and 
 only learned the fate of Daymon a few minutes before she 
 entered the court room. Daymon resolved to reform, for 
 when future hope departed, and all but life had fled, the 
 faithful Roxie rose like a spirit from the dead to come and 
 stand by him. 
 
PEN PICTURES. ^* 
 
 Daymen and Roxie left Louisville without any intima- 
 tion of their destination to any one, without anything to pay 
 expenses, and nothing but their wearing apparel, both re- 
 solved to work, for the sun shone as brightly upon them as 
 it did upon any man and woman in the world. 
 
 As a day laborer Daymon worked in and around the in- 
 fant city, as ignorant of the bright future as the wild ducks 
 that hovered 'round the shores of the lake. 
 
 It is said that P. J. Marquette, a French missionary from 
 Canada was the first white man that settled on the spot where 
 Chicago now stands. This was before the war of the Revo- 
 lution, and his residence was temporary. 
 
 Manv years afterward a negro from San Domingo made 
 some improvements at the same place; but John Kmzie is 
 generally regarded as the first settler at Chicago, for he made 
 a permanent home there in 1804. For a quarter of a cen- 
 tury the village had less than one hundred inhabitants. A 
 wild onion that grew there, called by the Indians Chikago, 
 gave the name to the city. 
 
 After a few years of hard labor and strict economy, a 
 land-holder was indebted to Daymon the sum of one hun- 
 dred and fifty dollars. Daymon wished to collect his dues 
 and emigrate farther west. By the persuasion of Roxie he 
 was induced to accept a deed to fifteen acres of land. In a 
 short time he sold one acre for more than the cost of the 
 whole tract, and was soon selling by the foot instead of the 
 acre. The unparalleled growth of the city made Daymon 
 
 rich in spite of himself. 
 
 The ever wakeful eye of the Angel of observation is 
 peering into the parlor of the Daymon palace, to see Roxie 
 surrounded with all the luxuries of furniture, sitting by an 
 ornamented table, upon which lay gilt-edged paper; in the 
 center of the table sat a pearl ink-stand and a glass ornament 
 set with variegated colors. Roxie's forehead rested upon the 
 
42 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 palm of her left hand, elbow on the table. Profound reflec- 
 tions are passing through her brain ; they carry her back to 
 the days of her childhood. Oh, how she loved Suza ; the 
 little bright eyes gazed upon her and the red lips pronounced 
 the inaudible sound, " 'dear sister." "Yes, I will write," said 
 Roxie, mentally. She takes the gold pen in her right hand, 
 adjusting the paper with her left, she paused to thank from 
 the bdttom of her heart old Ben Robertson, who in the coun- 
 try school had taught her the art of penmanship. Hush! did 
 the hall bell ring ? In a few minutes a servant appeared at 
 the door and announced the name of Aunt Patsy Perkins. 
 
 " Admit Aunt Patsy — tell her your mistress is at home," 
 said Roxie, rising from the table. 
 
 Aunt Patsy Perkins was floating upon the surface of 
 upper-tendom in Chicago. She understood all of the late 
 styles ; a queen in the drawing-room, understood the art pre- 
 cisely of entertaining company; the grandest ladies in the 
 city would listen to the council of Aunt Patsy, for she could 
 talk faster and more of it than any woman west of the Alle- 
 ghany Mountains. 
 
 The visitor enters the room; Roxie offers Aunt Patsy 
 an easy chair; Aunt Patsy is wiping away the perspiration 
 with a fancy kerchief, in one hand, and using the fan with the 
 other. When seated she said : 
 
 " I must rest a little, for I nave something to tell you, 
 and I will tell you now what it is before I begin. Old Per- 
 kins has no more love for style than I have for his dratted poor 
 kin. But as I was going to tell you, Perkins received a letter 
 from Indiana, stating this Cousin Sally wished to make us a 
 visit. She's a plain, poor girl, that knows no more of Style 
 than Perkins does of a woman's comforts. I'll tell you what 
 it is, Mrs. Daymon, if she does come, if I don't make it hot 
 for old Perkins, it'll be because I can't talk. A woman has 
 nothing but her tongue, and while I live I will use mine."/ 
 
PEN PICTURES. 43 
 
 Then pointing her index finger at Roxie, continued : "I will 
 tell you what it is Mrs. Daymon, take two white beans out 
 of one hull, and place them on the top of the garden fence, 
 and then look at 'em across the garden, and if you can tell 
 which one is the largest, you can seen what difference there is 
 in the way old Perkins hates style and I hate his dratted poor 
 kin. What wealthy families are to do in this city, God only 
 knows. I think sometimes old Perkins is a wooden man, for, 
 with all my style, I can make no more impression on h-i-m, 
 than I can upon an oak stump, Mrs. Daymon. What if he 
 did make a thousand dollars last week, when he wants to 
 stick his poor kin 'round me, like stumps in a flower garden." 
 
 At this point Roxie ventured to say a word. "Aunt 
 Patsy, I thought Jim was kinsfolk on your side of the house." 
 
 "Yes, but honey, I am good to Jim, poor soul, he 
 •knows it," said Aunt Patsy gravely, and then she paused. 
 
 Jim was a poor boy, eighteen years old, and the son of 
 Aunt Patsy's dear brother, long since laid under the dark 
 green sod of Indiana. The poor boy, hearing of the wealth 
 of his Aunt Patsy, had come to Chicago and was working on 
 the streets, poorly clad. 
 
 Aunt Patsy would sometimes give him a few dollars, as 
 you would throw a bone to a dog, requesting him at the same 
 time to always come to the back door, and never be about 
 the house when she had company. 
 
 Aunt Patsy said emphatically, as she left the Daymon 
 palace, "I'll tell j ou what it is, Mrs. Daymon, I'm goin' 
 home to study human nature, and if I don't find some avenue 
 to reach old Perkin<=, I shall take the liberty to insult the first 
 one of his dratted poor kin that sets foot in my house." 
 
 After Aunt Patsy left, Roxie thought no more of her 
 letter of inquiry, and company engaged her attention for 
 some days until the subject passed entirely out of her mind. 
 
 Soon after these events Roxie died with the cholera — 
 
44 
 
 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 leaving an only daughter — and was buried as ignorant of the 
 fate of her sister as the stone that now stands upon her grave. 
 
 We must now turn back more than a decade, which 
 brings us to the burning of the steamboat Brandywine, on 
 the Mississippi river. The boat was heavily freighted, with 
 a large number of passengers on board ; the origin of the 
 fire has never been positively known ; it was late in the night r 
 with a heavy breeze striking the boat aft, where the fire oc- 
 curred. In a short time all on board was in confusion ; the 
 pilot, from the confusion of the moment, or the lack of a 
 proper knowledge of the river, headed the boat for the wrong 
 shore, and she ran a-ground on a deep sand bar a long way 
 from shore and burned to the waters' edge; between the two 
 great elements of fire and water many leaped into the river 
 and were drowned, and some reached the shore on pieces of 
 the wreck. Among those fortunate enough to reach the 
 shore was an Englishman, who was so badly injured he was 
 unable to walk ; by the more fortunate he was carried to the 
 cabin of a wood cutter, where he soon after died. 
 
 When he fully realized the situation he called for ink and 
 paper; there was none on the premises; a messenger was 
 dispatched to the nearest point where it was supposed the 
 articles could be obtained, but he was too late. When the 
 last moments came the dying man made the following state- 
 ment: " My name is John A. Lasco. I have traveled for 
 three years in this country without finding the slightest trace 
 of the object of my search — an only and a dear sister. Her 
 name is Susan Lasco; with our father she left the old coun- 
 try many years ago. They were poor — the family fortune 
 being held in abeyance by the loss of some papers. I re- 
 mained, but our father gave up all hope and emigrated to 
 America, taking Susan with him. In the course of nature 
 the old man is dead, and my sister Susan, if she is living, is 
 the last, or soon wih be the last, link of the family. I am 
 
PEN PICTURES. 45 
 
 making this statement as my last will and testament. Some 
 years ago the post-master in my native town received a letter 
 from America stating that by the confession of one, Alonzo 
 Phelps, who was condemned to die, that there was a bundle 
 of papers concealed in a certain place by him before he left 
 the country. Search was made and the papers found which 
 gave me the possession of the family estate. The letter was 
 subscribed D. C, which gave a poor knowledge of the writer. 
 I sold the property and emigrated to this country in search 
 of my sister; I have had poor success. She probably mar- 
 ried, and the ceremony changed her name, and I fear she is 
 hopelessly lost to her rights ; her name was Susan Lasco — 
 what it is now, God only knows. But to Susan Lasco, and 
 her descendants, I will the sum of twenty thousand dollars, 
 now on deposit in a western bank; the certificate of deposit 
 names the bank ; the papers are wet and now upon my per- 
 sTDn ; the money in my pocket, $i 10, I will to the good woman 
 of this house — with a request that she will carefully dry and 
 preserve my papers, and deliver them to some respectable 
 lawyer in Memphis — at this point the speaker was breathing 
 hard — his tone of voice almost inaudible. At his request, 
 made by signs, he was turned over and died in a few moments 
 without any further directions. 
 
 The inmates of the cabin, besides the good woman of 
 the house, were only a few wood cutters, among whom stood 
 Brindle Bill, of Shirt-Tail Bend notoriety. Bill, to use his 
 own language, was strap d, and was chopping wood at this 
 point to raise a little money upon which to make another 
 start. Many years had passed away since he left Shirt Tail 
 Bend. He had been three times set on shore, from steam- 
 boats, for playing sharp tricks at three card monte upon 
 passengers, and he had gone to work, which he never did 
 until he was entirely out of money. Brindle Bill left the 
 cabin, ostensibly to go to work ; but he sat upon the log, rub- 
 
46 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 bed his hand across his forehead, and said mentally, "Su-san 
 La-s-co. By the last card in the deck, that is the name; if I 
 didn't hear Simon's wife, in Shirt-Tail Bend, years ago, say 
 her mother's name was S-u-s-a-n L-a-s-c-o. I will never play 
 another game ; and —and twenty thousand in bank. By hell, 
 I've struck a lead." 
 
 The ever open ear of the Angel of observation was 
 catching the sound of a conversation in the cabin of Sundown 
 Hill in Shirt-Tail Bend. It was as follows— 
 
 "Many changes, Bill, since you left here; the Carlo 
 wood yard has play'd out ; Don Carlo went back to Kentucky. 
 I heard he was blowed up on a steamboat; if he ever come 
 down again I did'nt hear of it." 
 
 " Hope he never did," said Bill, chawing the old grudge 
 with his eye teeth. 
 
 Hill continued : "You see, Bill, the old wood yards have 
 given place to plantations. Simon, your old friend, is making 
 pretentions to be called a planter," said Sundown Hill to 
 Brindle Bill, in a tone of confidence. 
 
 "Go slow, Hill, there is a hen on the nest. I come 
 back here to play a strong game ; twenty thousand in bank," 
 and Brindle Bill winked with his right eye, the language of 
 which is, I deal and you play the cards I give you. "You 
 heard of the burning of the Brandywine; well, there was an 
 Englishman went up in that scrape, and he left twenty thou- 
 sand in bank, and Rose Simon is the heir" said Bill in a 
 tone of confidence. 
 
 "And what can that profit y-o-u?" said Hill rather 
 indignantly. 
 
 "I am playing this game, I want you to send for 
 Simen," said Bill rather commandingly. 
 
 "Simon has changed considerably since you saw him; 
 and, besides, fortunes that come across the water seldom 
 prove true. Men who have fortunes in their native land 
 
PEN PICTURES. 47 
 
 seldom seek fortunes in a strange country," said Hill a rgu- 
 mentatively. 
 
 "There is no mistake in this case, for uncle John had 
 the di-dapper eggs in his pocket," said Bill firmly. . 
 
 Late that evening three men, in close council, were seen 
 in Shirt-Tail Bend. S. S. Simon had joined the company of 
 the other two. After Brindle Bill had related to Simon the 
 events above described, the following questions and answers 
 passed between the two: 
 
 • Mrs. Simon's mother was named Susan Lasco ?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly ; ana her father's name was Tom Fair 
 field. She is the brave woman who broke up, or rather 
 burned up, the gambling den in Shirt Tail Bend. We were 
 married in Tennessee. Mrs. Simon was the adopted daughter 
 of Mrs. Evaline Estep, her parents having died when she 
 was quite young. The old lady Estep tried to horn me off; 
 but I beat her. Well the old christian woman gave Rose a 
 good many things, among which was a box of family keep 
 sakes ; she said they were given to her in consideration of 
 her taking the youngest child of the orphan children. There 
 may be something in thai box to identify the family." 
 
 At this point Brindle Bill winked his right eye — it is my 
 deal, you play the cards I give you. As Simon was about to 
 leave the company, to break the news to his wife, Brindle 
 Bill said to him very confidentially : "You find out in what 
 part of the country this division of the orphan children took 
 place, and whenever you find that place, be where it will,, 
 right there is where I was raised — the balance of them child- 
 ren is dead, Simon," and he again winked his right eye. 
 
 "I understand,'' said Simon, and as he walked on 
 towards home to apprise Rose of her good fortune, he said 
 mentally, "This is Bill's deal, I will play the cards he gives 
 me." Simon was a shifty man; he stood in the half -way- 
 house between the honest man and the rogue : was alwavs 
 
48 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 ready to take anything he could lay hands on, as long as he 
 could hold some one else between himself and danger. Rose 
 Simon received the news with delight. She hastened to her 
 box of keepsakes and held before Simon's astonished eyes an 
 old breast-pin with this inscription: " Presented to Susan 
 Lasco by her brother, John A. Lasco, 1751." " That's all 
 the evidence we want," said Simon emphatically. " Now," 
 continued Simon, csaxingly, " What became of your sisters ?" 
 
 "You know when Mrs. Estep moved to Tennessee I 
 was quite small. I have heard nothing of my sisters since 
 that time. It has been more than fifteen years," said Rose 
 gravely. 
 
 " At what point in Kentucky were you separated?" said 
 Simon inquiringly. 
 
 '* Port William, the mouth of the Kentucky river," said 
 Rose plainly. 
 
 '* Brindle Bill says they are dead," said Simon slowly. 
 
 "B-r-i-n-d-le B-i-1-1, why, I would not believe him on 
 oath," said Rose indignantly. 
 
 "Yes, bet he can prove it," said Simon triumphantly, 
 and he then continued, ' ' If we leave any gaps down, my 
 dear, we will not be able to draw the money until those 
 sisters are hunted up, and then it would cut us down to less 
 than seven thousand dollars — and that would hardly build us 
 a fine house," and with many fair and coaxing words Simon 
 obtained a promise from Rose that she would permit him to 
 manage the business. 
 
 At the counter of a western bank stood S. S. Simon and 
 party presenting the certificate of deposit for twenty thousand 
 dollars. In addition to the breast-pin Rose had unfolded an 
 old paper, that had laid for years in the bottom of her box. 
 It was a certificate of the marriage of Tom Fairfield and 
 Susan Lasco. Brindle Bill and Sundown Hill were sworn 
 and testified that Rose Simon alias Rose Fairfield was the 
 
PEN PICTURES. 49 
 
 only surviving child of Tom Fairfield and Susan Lasco. 
 Brindle Bill said he was raised in Port William, and was at 
 the funeral of the little innocent years before. The money 
 was paid over. Rose did not believe a word that Bill said 
 but she had promised Simon that she would let him manage 
 the business, and few people will refuse money when it is 
 thrust upon them. - 
 
 The party returned to Shirt-Tail Bend. Simon deceived 
 Rose with the plea of some little debts, paid over to Brindle 
 Bill and Sundown Hill three hundred dollars each. Brindle 
 Bill soon got away with three hundred dollars; " Strop' d 
 again," he said mentally, and then continued, " Some call 
 it blackmailin' or backmailin', but I call it a back-handed 
 game. It is nothing but making use of power, and if a fellow 
 don't use power when it's put in his hands he had better 
 bunch tools and quit. 
 
 Brindle Bill said to S. S. Simon, " I have had a streak 
 of bad luck ; lost all my money ; want to borrow three hun- 
 dred dollars. No use to say you havn't got it, for I can find 
 them sisters of your wife in less than three weeks," and he 
 winked his right eye. 
 
 Simon hesitated, but finally with many words of caution 
 paid over the money. 
 
 Soon after these events S. S. Simon was greatly relieved 
 by reading in a newspaper the account of the sentence of 
 Brindle Bill to the state prison for a long term of years. 
 
 S. S. Simon now stood in the front rank of the planters 
 of his neighborhood ; had built a new house and ready to 
 furnish it ; Rose was persuaded by him to make the trip 
 with him to New Orleans and select her furniture for the 
 new house. While in the city Rose Simon was attacked with 
 the yellow fever and died on the way home. She was buried 
 in Louisiana, intestate and childless. 
 
SCENE FIFTH.— THE BELLE OF PORT WILLIAM. 
 
 A cozy room, adorned with maiden art, 
 Contained the belle of Fort William's heart. 
 There she stood — to blushing love unknown, 
 Her youthful heart was a"! her own. 
 Her sisters gone, and every kindred tie, 
 Alone she smiled, alone she had to cry; 
 Xo mother's smile, no father's kind reproof, 
 She hop'd and pray'd beneath a stranger's roof. 
 
 The voice of history and the practice of historians has 
 been to dwell upon the marching of armies; the deeds of 
 great heroes ; the rise and fall of governments ; great battles 
 and victories; the conduct of troops, etc., while the manners 
 and customs of the people of whom they w r rite are entirely 
 ignored. 
 
 Were it not for the common law of England, we would 
 have a poor knowledge of the manners and customs of the 
 English people long centuries ago. 
 
 The common law was founded upon the manners and 
 customs of the people, and many of the principles of the 
 common law have come down to the present day. And a care- 
 ful study of the common laws of England is the best guide 
 to English civilization lor:g centuries ago. 
 
 Manners and customs change with almost every genera- 
 tion, yet the principles upon which our manners and customs 
 are founded are less changeable. 
 
 Change is marked upcn almost everything It is said 
 
PEN PICTURES. 51 
 
 that the particles which compose our bodies change in every 
 seven years. The oceans and continents change in a long 
 series of ages. Change is one of the universal laws of matter. 
 And like everything else, Port William changed. Brother 
 Demitt left Port William, on foot and full of whisky, one cold 
 evening in December. The path led him across a field 
 fenced from the suburbs of the village. The old man being 
 unable to mount the fence, sat down to rest with his back 
 against the fence-here it is supposed he fell into a stupid 
 sleep The cold north wind— that never ceases to blow be- 
 cause some of Earth's poor children are intoxicated-wafted 
 away the spirit of the old man, and his neighbors, the next 
 morning, found the old man sitting against the fence, frozen, 
 
 cold and dead. 
 
 Old Arch Wheataker, full of whisky, was running old 
 Ball for home one evening in the twilight. Old Ball, fright- 
 ened at something by the side of the road, threw the old man 
 against a tree, and "busted " his head. 
 
 Dave Deminish had retired from business and given 
 place to the brilliantly lighted saloon. Old Dick, the negro 
 man, was sleeping beneath the sod, with as little pain in his 
 left foot as any other member of his body. Joe, the colored 
 boy that drove the wood slide so fast through the snow with 
 the little orphan girls, had left home, found his way to Cana- 
 da, and was enjoying his freedom in the Queen's Dominion. 
 
 The Demitt estate had passed through the hands of ad- 
 ministrators much reduced. Old Demitt died intestate, and 
 Aunt Katy had no children. His relations inherited his es- 
 tate, except Aunt Katy's life interest. But Aunt Katy had 
 money of her own, earned with her own hands. 
 
 Aunt Katy was economical and industrious. Every dry 
 goods store in Port William was furnished with stockings knit 
 by the hands of Aunt Katy. The passion to save in Aunt 
 Katy's breast, like Aaron's serpent, swallowed up the rest. 
 
52 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Aunt Katy was a good talker — except of her own con- 
 cerns, upon which she was non-committal. She kept her 
 own counsel and her own money. It was supposed by the 
 Demitt kinsfolk that Aunt Katy had a will filed away, and 
 old Ballard, the administrator, was often interrogated by the 
 Demitt kinsfolk about Aunt Katv's will. Old Ballard was a 
 cold man of business — one that never thought of anything 
 that did not pay him — and, of course, sent all will-hunters to 
 Aunt Katy. 
 
 r The Demitt relations indulged in many speculations 
 about Aunt Katy's money. Some counted it by the thousand, 
 and all hoped to receive their portion when the poor old 
 woman slept beneath the sod. 
 
 Aunt Katy had moved to Port William, to occupy one 
 of the best houses in the village, in which she held a life es- 
 tate. Aunt Katy's household consisted of herself and Suza 
 Fairfield, eleven years old, and it was supposed by the Demitt 
 relations, that when Aunt Katy died, a will would turn up in 
 favor of Suza Fairfield. 
 
 * Tom Ditamus had moved from the backwoods of the 
 Cumberland mountains to the Ohio river, and not pleased 
 with the surroundings of his adopted locality, made up his 
 mind to return to his old home. Tom had a wife and two 
 dirty children. Tom's wife was a pussy-cat woman, and 
 obeyed all of Tom's commands without ever stopping to 
 think on the subject of " woman's rights." Tom was a sulky 
 fellow; his forehead retreated from his eyebrows, at an angle 
 of forty-five degrees, to the top of his head ; his skull had a 
 greater distance between the ears than it had fore and aft'; a 
 dark shade hung in the corner of his eye, and he stood six 
 feet above the dirt with square shoulders. Tom was too 
 great a coward to steal, and too lazy to work. Tom intended 
 to return to his old home in a covered wagon drawn by an 
 ox team. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 53 
 
 The Demitt relations held a council, and appointed one 
 of their number to confer with Tom Ditamus and engage him 
 to take Suza Fairfield — with his family and in his wagon — 
 to the backwoods of the Cumberland Mountains. For, they 
 said, thus spirited away Aunt Katy would never hear from 
 her; and Aunt Katy's money, when broken loose from where 
 she was damming it up, by the death of the old thing would 
 flow in its legitimate channel. 
 
 And the hard-favored and the hard-hearted Tom agreed 
 to perform the job for ten dollars. 
 
 It was in the fall of the year and a foggy morning. 
 When the atmosphere is heavy the cold of the night produces 
 a mist by condensing the dampness of the river, called fog ; 
 it is sometimes so thick, early in the morning, that the eye 
 cannot penetrate it more than one hundred yards. 
 
 Tom was ready to start, and fortunately for him, seeing 
 Suza Fairfield passing his camp, he approached her. She 
 thought he wished to make some inquiry, and stood still 
 until the strong man caught her by the arm, with one hand 
 in the other hand he held an ugly gag, and told her if she 
 made any noise he would put the bit in her mouth and tie 
 the straps on the back of her head. The child made one 
 scieam, but as Tom prepared to gag her she submitted, and 
 Tom placed her in his covered wagon between his dirty 
 children, giving the gag to his wife, and commanding her if 
 Suza made the slightest noise to put the bridle on her, and 
 in the dense clouds of fog Tom drove his wagon south. 
 
 Suza realized that she was captured, but for what pur- 
 pose she could not divine ; with a brave heart — far above her 
 years — she determined to make her escape the first night, for 
 after that she said, mentally, she would be unable to find 
 home. She sat quietly and passed the day in reflection, and 
 resolved in her mind that she would leave the caravan of 
 Tom Ditamus that night, or die in the attempt. She remem- 
 
54 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 bered the words of Aunt Katy — "Discretion is the better 
 part of valor" — and upon that theory the little orphan 
 formed her plan. 
 
 The team traveled slow, for Tom was compelled to let 
 them rest — in the warm part of the day — the sun at last 
 disappeared behind the western horizon. To the unspeakable 
 delight of the little prisoner, in a dark wood by the shore of 
 a creek, Tom encamped for the night, building a fire by the 
 side of a large log. The party in the wagon, excepting 
 Suza, were permitted to come out and sit by the fire. While 
 Tom's w T ife was preparing supper, Suza imploringly begged 
 Tom to let her come to the fire, for she had something to 
 tell him. Tom at last consented, but said cautiously, "you 
 must talk low." " Oh I I will talk so easy," said Suza, in a 
 stage whisper. She was permitted to take her seat with 
 the party on a small log, and here for an hour she enter- 
 tained them with stories of abuse that she had received from 
 the old witch, Aunt Katy, and emphatically declared that she 
 would go anywhere to get away from the old witch. 
 
 The orphan girl, eleven years of age, threw Tom Dita- 
 mus, a man thirty-five years of age, entirely off his guard. 
 Tom thought he had a soft thing and the whole party were 
 soon sound asleep, except Suza. 
 
 With a step as light as a timid cat, Suza Fairfield left 
 Tom Ditamus and his family sleeping soundly on the bank of 
 the creek in the dark woods, and sped toward Port Wil- 
 liam. They had traveled only ten miles with a lazy ox team 
 and the active feet of the little captive could soon retrace 
 the distance, if she did not lose the way; to make assurance 
 doubly sure, Suza determined to follow the Kentucky river, 
 for she knew that would take her to Port William; the road 
 was part of the way on the bank of the river, but sometimes 
 diverged into the hills a considerable distance from the river. 
 At those places Suza would follow the river, though her path 
 
PEN PICTURES. 55 
 
 was through dense woods and in places thickly set with 
 underbrush and briars. Onward the brave little girl would 
 struggle, until again relieved by the friendly road making its 
 appearance again upon the bank of the river, and then the 
 nimble little feet would travel at the rate of four miles an 
 hour. Again Suza would have to take to the dark woods, with 
 no lamp to guide her footsteps but the twinkling distant star. 
 In one of these ventures Suza was brought to a stand, by 
 the mouth of White's creek pouring its lazy waters into the 
 Kentucky river. The water was deep and dark. Suza 
 stood and reflected. An owl broke the stillness of the night 
 on the opposite side of the creek. The last note of his voice 
 seemed to say, come over — over — little gal. Suza sank upon 
 the ground and wept bitterly. It is said that the cry of a 
 goose once saved Rome. The seemingly taunting cry of the 
 owl did not save Suza, but her own good sense taught her 
 that she could trace the creek on the south side until she 
 would find a ford, and when across the creek retrace it 
 back on the north side to the unerring river ; and although 
 this unexpected fate had perhaps doubled her task, she had 
 resolved to perform it. She remembered Aunt Katy's 
 words, "if there is a will, there is a way," and onward she 
 sped for two long hours. Suza followed the zigzag course of 
 the bewildering creek, and found herself at last in the big 
 road stretching up from the water of the creek. She recog- 
 nized the ford, for here she had passed in the hateful prison 
 wagon, and remembered that the water was not more than 
 one foot deep. Suza pulled off her little shoes and waded 
 the creek ; when upon the north side she looked at the dark 
 woods, on the north bank of the creek, and at the friendly 
 road, so open and smooth to her little feet, and said, mental- 
 ly, "this road will lead me to Port William, and I will follow 
 it, if Tom Ditamus does catch me; " and Onward she sped. 
 The dawn of morning had illuminated the eastern sky, 
 
56 
 
 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 when Suza Fairfield beheld the broad and «beautiful bottom 
 lafld of the Ohio river. 
 
 Xo mariner that ever circumnavigated the globe could 
 have beheld his starting point with more delight than Suza 
 Fairfield beheld the chimneys in Port William. She was 
 soon upon the home street, and saw the chimney of Aunt 
 Katy's house; no smoke was rising from it as from others; 
 everything about the premises was as still as the breath of life 
 on the Dead Sea. Suza approached the back yard, the door 
 of Aunt Katy's room was not fastened, it turned upon its 
 hinges as Suza touched it; Aunt Katy's bed was not tumbled; 
 the fire had burned down; in front of the smoldering coals 
 Aunt Katy sat upon her easy chair, her face buried in her 
 hands, elbows upon her knees— Suza paused— Aunt Katy 
 sleeps;*, moment's reflection, and then Suza laid her tiny 
 hand upon the gray head of the sleeping woman, and pro- 
 nounced the words, nearest her little heart in a soft, mellow 
 tone, "A-u-n-t K-a-t-y." 
 
 In an instant Aunt Katy Demitt was pressing Suza Fair- 
 field close to her old faithful heart. 
 
 Old and young tears were mingled together for a few 
 minutes, and then Suza related her capture and escape as we 
 have recorded it; at the close of which Suza was nearly out of 
 breath. Aunt Katy threw herself upon her knees by the bed- 
 side and covered her face with the palms of her hands. Suza 
 reflected, and thought of something she had not related, and 
 starting toward the old mother with the words on her tongue 
 when the Angel of observation placed his finger on her lips, 
 with the audible sound oihusht Aunt Katy's praying. 
 
 Aunt Katy rose from her posture with the words : "I 
 understand it all my child; the Demitts want you out of the 
 way. Well, if they get the few four pences that I am able 
 to scrape together old Katy Demitt will give 'em the last sock 
 that she ever expects to knit; forewarned, fore-armed, my 
 
PEN PICTURES. 5? 
 
 child. As for Tom Ditamus, he may go for what he is worth. 
 He has some of the Demitt money, no doubt, and I have a 
 warning that will last me to the grave. Old Demitt had one 
 fault, but God knows his kinsfolk have thousands." 
 
 Aunt Katy took Suza by the hand and led her to the 
 hiding place, and Suzi Fairfield, for the first time, beheld 
 Aunt Katy's money — five hundred dollars in gold and silver 
 — and the old foster mother's will, bequeathing all her earthly 
 possessions to Suza Fairfield. The will was witnessed by old 
 Ballard and old Father Tearful. And from thence forward 
 Suza was the only person in the wide world in full possession 
 of Aunt Katy Demitt' s secrets. Tantalized by her relations, 
 Aunt Katy was like a student of botany, confined in the cen- 
 ter of a large plain with a single flower, for she doated on 
 Suza Fairfield with a love seldom realized by a foster mother. 
 
 Tom Ditamus awoke the next morning (perhaps about 
 the time Suza entered Port William) and found the little 
 prisoner gone. Tom did not care ; he had his money, and 
 he yoked up his cattle and traveled on. 
 
 We must now look forward more than a decade in order 
 to speak of Don Carlo, the hero of Shirt-Tail Bend, whom, in 
 our haste to speak of other parties, we left at the half-way 
 castle in a senseless condition, on the fatal day of the explo- 
 sion of the Red Stone. 
 
 The half-way castle was one of the first brick houses ever 
 built on the Ohio river. It had long been the property of 
 infant heirs, and rented out or left unoccupied ; it stood on 
 the southern bank of the river about half way between Louis- 
 ville and Cincinnati, hence the name of the half-way castle. 
 Don Carlo was severely stunned, but not fatally injured ; he 
 had sold out in Shirt-Tail Bend, and was returning to the 
 home of his childhood when the dreadful accident occured. 
 Don had saved a little sum of money with which he had pur- 
 chased a small farm in Kentucky, and began to reflect that 
 
58 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 he was a bachelor. Numerous friends had often reminded 
 him that a brave young lady had rushed into the water and 
 dragged his lifeless body to the friendly shore, when in a few 
 minutes more he would have been lost forever 
 
 Twelve months or more after these events a camp meeting 
 was announced to come off in the neighborhood of Port Wil- 
 liam. Camp meetings frequently occurred at that day in 
 Kentucky. The members of the church, or at least a large 
 portion of them, would prepare to camp out and hold a pro- 
 tracted meeting. When the time and place were selected 
 some of the interested parties would visit the nearest saw mill 
 and borrow several wagon loads of lumber, draw it to the 
 place selected, which was always in the woods near some 
 stream or fountain of water, with the plank placed upon logs 
 or stumps, they would erect the stand or pulpit, around the 
 same, on three sides at most, they would arrange planks for 
 seats by placing them upon logs and stumps ; they would also 
 build shanties and partly fill them with straw, upon which 
 the campers slept. Fires were kindled outside for cooking 
 purposes. Here they would preach and pray, hold prayer 
 meetings and love feasts night and day, sometimes for two or 
 three weeks. On the Sabbath day the whole country, old 
 and young, for ten miles around, would attend the camp 
 meeting. 
 
 Don Carlo said to a friend : "I shall attend the camp 
 meeting, for I have entertained a secret desire for a long time 
 to make the acquaintance of the young lady who it is said 
 saved my life from the wreck of the Red Stone." 
 
 The camp meeting will afford the opportunity. It was 
 on a Sabbath morning. Don and his friend were standing 
 upon the camp ground; the people were pouring in from 
 all directions ; two young ladies passed them On their way to 
 the stand; one of them attracted Don Carlo's attention, she 
 was not a blonde nor a brunette, but half way between the 
 
PEN PICTURES. &(J 
 
 two, inheriting the beauty of each. Don said to his friend ; 
 u There goes the prettiest woman in America." 
 
 Then rubbing his hand over his forehead, continued ; 
 "You are acquainted with people here, I wish you would 
 make some inquiry of that lady's name and family." 
 
 " I thought you was hunting the gitl that pulled you out 
 of the river," said his friend, sarcastically. 
 
 « Yes, but I want to know the lady that has just passed 
 
 us," said Don, gravely. 
 
 Love at first sight. Ah ! what is love ? It has puzzled 
 mental philosophers of all ages ; and no one has ever told us 
 why a man will love one woman above all the balance of 
 God's creatures. And then, the strangest secret in the prob- 
 lem is, that a third party can see nothing lovable in the wo- 
 man so adored by her lord. 
 
 No wonder, the ancient Greeks represented cupid as 
 blind. No, they did not represent him as blind, but only 
 blind folded, which undoubtedly leaves the impression that 
 the love-god may peep under the bandage; and we advise all 
 young people to take advantage of that trick-look before 
 you love. History has proven that persons of the same tem- 
 perament should not marry, for their children are apt to in- 
 herit the bad qualities of each parent ; while upon the other 
 hand, when opposites marry the children are apt to inherit 
 the good qualities of each parent. 
 
 Marriage is the most important step taken in life. When 
 a young man goes out into the world to seek fame and for- 
 tune the energies of his mind are apt to concentrate upon the 
 problem of obtaining a large fortune. The wife is thought 
 of as a convenience, the love-god is consulted and fancy rules 
 the occasion. Now let me say to all young men, the family 
 is the great object of life, ^ou may pile millions together, 
 and it is all scattered as soon as you are dead. A man's 
 .children are his only living and permanent representatives. 
 
60 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 You should not therefore consult fancy with regard to fortune 
 or other trivial things, but in the name of all the gods, at once 
 consult common sense in regard to the family you produce. 
 
 While Don's friend was upon the tour of inquiry to as- 
 certain the identity of the handsome young lady, Don sat 
 alone upon a log, and said mentally, "A woman may draw 
 me out of the sea ten thousand times, and she would never 
 look like that young lady. O! God, who can she be ! Per- 
 haps out of my reach." Don's friend returned smiling. 
 ''Lucky, lucky," and Don's friend concluded with a laugh. 
 " What now?" said Don, impatiently. 
 
 "That lady is the girl that drew Don Carlo out of the 
 river, her name is Suza Fairfield, and she is the belle of Port 
 William. An orphan girl raised and educated by old Aunt 
 Katy Demitt. She has had a -number of suitors, but has 
 never consented to leave Aunt Katy's house as a free woman." 
 
 When the congregation dispersed in the evening, Don 
 Carlo and Suza Fairfield rode side by side toward Port Wil- 
 liam. 
 
 The language of courtship is seldom recorded. The 
 ever open ear of the Angel of observation, has only furnished 
 us with these words : 
 
 " You are old, my liege, slightly touched with gray. Pray 
 let me live and with Aunt Katy stay." 
 
 "With old Aunt Katy you shall live my dear, and on 
 her silent grave drop a weeping tear." 
 
 We can only speak of Suza Fairfield as we wish to speak 
 of all other belles. 
 
 The outward acts of every belle, 
 
 Her inward thoughts reveal ; 
 And by this rule she tries to tell 
 
 How other people feel. 
 
 It was the neighborhood talk, that Suza Fairfield, the 
 
PEN PICTURES 
 
 (31 
 
 belle of Port William, and Don Carlo, the hero of Shirt-Tail 
 Bend, were engaged to be married. 
 
 All neighborhoods will talk. Aunt Katy at the table, 
 Betsey Green and Cousin Sally; the meeting and the show; 
 all neighborhoods will talk, for God has made them so. 
 
 Secrets should be kept, but neighbors let them go ; with 
 caution on the lip, they let a neighbor know, all secrets here 
 below. Some add a little and some take away. Each be- 
 lieves his neighbors in everything they say. They hold a 
 secret sacred and only tell a friend, and then whisper in the 
 ear, Silly told me this and you must keep it dear; when all 
 have kept it and every body knows, true or false, they tell it 
 as it goes. 
 
SCENE SIXTH.— THE SECOND GENERATION. 
 
 The son may wear the father's crown, 
 When the gray old father's dead ; 
 May wear his shoe, and wear his gown, 
 But he can never wear his head. 
 
 How few realize that we are so swiftly passing away, 
 and giving our places on earth, to new men and women. 
 
 Tramp, tramp, tramp, and on we go, from the cradle to 
 the grave, without stopping to reflect, that an old man is 
 passing away every hour, and a new one taking his place. 
 
 Like drops of rain, descending upon the mountains, and 
 hurrying down to form the great river, running them off to 
 the ocean, and then returning in the clouds. The change is 
 almost imperceptible. 
 
 New men come upon the stage of life as it were unob- 
 served, and old ones pass away in like manner, and thus the 
 great river of life flows on. Were the change sudden, and 
 all at once, it would shock the philosophy of the human race. 
 A few men live to witness the rise and fall of two generations. 
 Long years have intervened and the characters portrayed in 
 the preceding part of our story, have all passed away. 
 
 Some of their descendants come upon the stage to fight 
 the great battle of life. 
 
 Young Simon will first claim our attention ; he is the only 
 son of S. S. Simon by a second wife, his mother is dead, and 
 Young Simon is heir to a large estate. 
 
 The decade from eighteen hundred and forty to eighteen 
 
PEN PICTURES. tib 
 
 hundred and fifty, is, perhaps, the most interesting decade 
 in the history of the settlement and progress of the Western 
 States. 
 
 In that era, the great motive power of our modern civili- 
 zation, the iron horse and the magnetic telegraph were put 
 into successful operation, across the broad and beautiful 
 Western States. 
 
 The history of the West and Southwest in the first half 
 of the nineteenth century, is replete with romance, or with 
 truth stranger than fiction. The sudden rise of a moneyed 
 aristocracy in the West, furnishes a theme for the pen of a 
 historian of no mean ability. 
 
 This American aristocracy, diverse from the aristocracy 
 of the old world, who stimulated by family pride, preserved 
 the history of a long line of ancestors, born to distinction, 
 and holding the tenure of office by inheritance, could trace 
 the heroic deeds of their fathers back to the dark ages, 
 while some of our American aristocrats are unable to give a 
 true history of their grandfather. 
 
 In the first half of the nineteeth century the cultivation 
 of the cotton plant in the Southern States assumed gigantic 
 proportions. The Northern States bartered their slaves for 
 money, and the forest of the great Mississippi river fell by 
 the ax of the colored man ; salvation from the demons of want 
 was preached by the nigger and the mule. 
 
 Young Simon was a cotton planter, inheriting from his 
 father four plantations of one thousand acres, and more than 
 six hundred slaves. 
 
 Young Simon knew very little of the history of his family, 
 and the more he learned of it, the less he wanted to know. 
 His father in his lifetime, had learned the history of Roxie 
 Daymon alias Roxie Fairfield, up to the time she left Louis- 
 ville, and had good reason to believe that Roxie Daymon, or 
 her descendants, also Suza Fairfield, or her descendants still 
 
64 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 survived. But as we have said, S. S. Simon stood in the 
 half-way-house, between the honest mai-. and the rogue. He 
 reflected upon the subject mathematically, as he said mental- 
 ly, "Twenty thousand dollars and twenty years interest — 
 why ! it would break me up ; I wish to die a rich man. 
 
 And onward he strove, seasoned to hardship in early life, 
 he slept but little, the morning bell upon his plantations 
 sounded its iron notes up and down the Mississippi long be- 
 fore daylight every morning, that the slaves might be ready 
 to resume their work as soon as they could see. Simon's 
 anxiety to die a rich man had so worked upon his feelings for 
 twenty years, that he was a hard master and a keen financier. 
 
 The time to die never entered his brain; for it was all 
 absorbed with the die rich question. Unexpectedly to him, 
 death's white face appeared when least expected, from hard 
 work, and exposure, S. S. Simon was taken down with the 
 swamp fever ; down — down — down for a few days and then 
 the crisis, the last night of his suffering was terrible, the at- 
 tending physician and his only son stood by his bedside. All 
 night he was delirious, everything he saw was in the shape of 
 Roxie Daymon, every movement made about the bed, the 
 dying man would cry, ■ ' Take Roxie Daymon away. " 
 
 Young Simon was entirely ignorant of his father's history 
 — and the name Roxie Daymon made a lasting impression on 
 his brain. Young Simon grew up without being inured to 
 any hardships, and his health was not good, for he soon fol- 
 lowed his father; during his short life he had everything that 
 heart could desire, except a family name and good health, 
 the lack of which made him almost as poor as the meanest of 
 his slaves. 
 
 Young Simon received some comfort in his last days from 
 his cousin Caesar. Caesar Simon was the son of the brother 
 of S. S. Simon who died in early life, leaving three children 
 in West Tennessee. Cousin Caesar was raised by two penni- 
 
PEN t> t CTURES. 
 
 65 
 
 less sisters, whom he always called "big-sis" and "little-sis." 
 "Big-sis" was so called from being the eldest, and had the 
 care of cousin Cesar's childhood. Cousin Caesar manifested 
 an imaginary turn of mind in early childhood. He was, one 
 day, sitting on his little stool, by the side of the tub in which 
 " big-sis " was washing, (for she was a washer-woman,) gazing 
 intently upon the surface of the water. " What in the world 
 are you looking at C-a-e-s-a-r ? " said the woman, straighten- 
 ing up in astonishment. 
 
 " Looking at them bubbles on the suds," said the boy, 
 
 gravely. 
 
 "And what of the bubbles?" continued the woman. 
 
 "I expected to see one of them burst into a 1-o-a-f of 
 b-r-e-a-d," said the child honestly. 
 
 "Big-sis" took cousin Caesar to the fire, went to the 
 cupboard and cut her last loaf of bread, and spread upon it 
 the last mouthful of butter she had in the world, and gave it 
 
 cousin Caesar. 
 
 And thus he received his first lesson of reward for im- 
 agination which, perhaps, had something to do with his after 
 
 life. 
 
 Cousin Caesar detested work, but had a disposition to 
 see the bottom of everything. No turkey-hen or guinea 
 fowl could make a nest that cousin Caesar could not find. 
 He grew up mischievous, so much so that "big-sis" would 
 occasionally thrash him. He would then run off and live 
 with "little-sis" until "little-sis" would better the instruc- 
 tion, for she would whip also. He would then run back to 
 live with " big-sis." In this way cousin Caesar grew to thir- 
 teen years of age— too big to whip. He then went to live 
 with old Smith, who had a farm on the Tennessee river, con- 
 taining a large tract of land, and who hired a large quantity 
 of steam wood cut every season. Rob Roy was one of old 
 Smith's wood cutters— a bachelor well advanced in years, he 
 
66 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 lived alone in a cabin made of poles, on old Smith's land. 
 Hi? sleeping couch was made with three poles, running par- 
 allel with the wall of the cabin, and filled with straw. He 
 never wore any stockings and seldom wore a coat, winter or 
 summer. The furniture in his cabin consisted of a three-leg- 
 ged stool, and a pine goods box. His ax was a handsome 
 tool, and the only thing he always kept brightly polished. 
 He was a good workman at his profession of cutting wood. 
 No one knew anything of his history. He was a man that 
 seldom talked ; he was faithful to work througn the week, but 
 spent the Sabbath day drinking whisky. He went to the 
 village every Saturday evening and purchased one gallon of 
 whisky, which he carried in a stone jug to his cabin, and 
 drank it all himself by Monday morning, when he would be 
 ready to go to work again. Old Rob Roy's habits haunted 
 the mind of cousin Caesar, and he resolved to play a trick 
 
 "upon the old wood cutter. Old Smith had some hard cider 
 to which cousin Caesar had access. One lonesome Sunday 
 cousin Caesar stole Roy's jug half full of whisky, poured the 
 whisky out, re-filled the jug with cider, and cautiously slipped 
 it back into Roy's cabin. On Monday morning Rob Roy 
 refused to work, and was very mad. Old Smith demanded 
 to know the cause of the trouble. "You can't fool a man 
 with cider who loves good whisky,'" said Roy indignantly. 
 Old Smith traced the trick up and discharged cousin Caesar. 
 
 * At twenty years of age we find Cousin Caesar in Pa- 
 
 ducah, Kentucky, calling himself Cole Conway, in company 
 with one Steve Sharp — they were partners — in the game, as 
 they called it. In the back room of a saloon, dimly lighted, 
 one dark night, another party, more proficient in the sleight 
 of hand, had won the last dime in their possession. The 
 time had come to close up. The sun had crossed the merid- 
 ian on the other side of the globe. Cole Conway and 
 Steve Sharp crawled into an old straw shed, in the suburbs, 
 
PEN PICTURES. 67 
 
 of the village, and were soon soundly sleeping. The sun 
 had silvered the old straw shed when Sharp awakened, and 
 saw Conway sitting up, as white as death's old horse. "What 
 on earth is the matter, Conway?" said Sharp, inquiringly. 
 "I slumbered heavy in the latter end of night, and had a 
 brilliant dream, and awoke from it, to realize this old straw 
 shed doth effect me," said Conway gravely. "The dream ! 
 the dream!" demanded Sharp. "I dreamed that we were 
 playing cards, and I was dealing out the deck; the last card 
 was mine, and it was very thick. Sharp, it looked like a 
 box, and with thumb and finger I pulled it open. In it there 
 were three fifty-dollar gold pieces, four four-dollar gold pieces, 
 and ten one-dollar gold pieces. I put the money in my 
 pocket, and was listening for you to claim half, as you pur- 
 chased the cards. You said nothing more than that 'them 
 cards had been put up for men who sell prize cards.' I took 
 the money out again, when lo, and behold ! one of the fifty- 
 dollar pieces had turned to a rule about eight inches long, 
 hinged in the middle. Looking at it closely I saw small let- 
 ters engraved upon it, which 1 was able to read — you know, 
 Sharp, I learned to read by spelling the names on steam- 
 boats — or that is the way I learned the letters of the alpha- 
 bet. The inscription directed me to a certain place, and 
 there I would find a steam carriage that could be run on any 
 common road where carriages are drawn by horses. We 
 went, and found the carriage. It was a beautiful carriage — 
 with highly finished box — on four wheels, the box was large 
 enough for six persons to sit on the inside. The pilot sat 
 upon the top, steering with a wheel, the engineer, who was 
 also fireman, and the engine, sat on the aft axle, behind the 
 passenger box. The whole structure was very light, the 
 boiler was of polished brass, and sat upon end. The heat 
 was engendered by a chemical combination of phosphorus 
 and tinder. The golden rule gave directions how to run the 
 
68 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 engine — by my directions, Sharp, you was pilot and I was en 
 gineer, and we started south, toward my old home. People 
 came running out from houses and fields to see us pass I 
 saw something on the beautiful brass boiler that looked lik 
 a slide door. I shoved it, and it slipped aside, revealing the 
 dial of a clock which told the time of day, also by a separate 
 hand and figures, told the speed at which the carriage was 
 running. On the right hand side of the dial I saw the fig- 
 ures 77. They were made of India rubber, and hung upon 
 two brass pins. I drew the slide door over the dial except 
 when I wished to look at the time of day, or the rate of 
 speed at which we were running, and every time I opened 
 the door, one of the figure 7's had fallen off the pin. I 
 would replace it, and again find it fallen off. So I concluded 
 it was only safe to run seven miles an hour, and I regulated 
 to that speed. In a short time, I looked again, and we 
 were running at the rate of fifteen miles an hour. I knew 
 that I had not altered the gauge of steam. A hissing sound 
 caused me to think the water was getting low in the boiler. 
 On my left I saw a brass handle that resembled the handle 
 of a pump. I seized it and commenced work. I could hear 
 the bubbling of the water. I look down at the dry road, 
 and said, mentally, -'no water can come from there.' Oh! 
 how I trembled. It so frightened me that I found myself 
 wide awake." 
 
 "Dreams are but eddies in the current of the mind, which 
 cut off from reflection's gentle stream, sometimes play strange> 
 fantastic tricks. I have tumbled headlong down from high 
 and rocky cliffs; cold-blooded snakes have crawled 'round 
 my limbs; the worms that eat through dead men's flesh, 
 have crawled upon my skin, and I have dreamed of trans- 
 portation beyond the shores of time. My last night's dream 
 hoisted me beyond my hopes, to let me fall and find myself 
 i:i this d old straw shed." "The devil never dream?," 
 
PEN PICTURES. u * 
 
 said Sharp, coolly, and then continued- "Holy men of old 
 dreamed of the Lord, but never of the devrl, and to under- 
 -and a dream, we must be just to all the world, and to our- 
 selves before God." 
 
 "I have a proposition to make to you, Conway? 
 
 " WliatV said Conway, eagerly. 
 
 "If you will tell me in confidence, your true name and 
 history, I will give you mine," sard Sharp, emphatically. 
 ■'treed," said Conway, and then continued, "as you made 
 
 he proposition give us >J£^£ father wag called 
 
 <Mv name is bteve .brmuic. ^y 
 Brindle Bill, and once lived in Shrrt-Tail Bend, »» 
 stssippi. He died in the state prison. My mother »as a 
 "errf Sundown Hill, who lived in the same ne^borta-d. 
 My father and mother were never married. So >ou see, i 
 am a come by-chance, and I have been going by chance all 
 7m life. Now, I have told you the God's truth, so far as 
 I Jow it Now make a clean brerst of it, Conway, and let 
 us hear your pedigree," said Bnndie, confidentially. 
 
 .•I was bom in Tennessee. My father's name was 
 Caesar Simon, and I bear his name. My mother's name was 
 Nancy Wade. I do not remember either of them I was 
 partly raised by my sisters, and the balance of the Ume I 
 have tried to raise myself, but it seems it will take me a Ion, 
 ZU^nake a raise-" at this point, Brindle inter tered m 
 breathless suspense, with the inquiry, •■ Did you have an un- 
 cle named S. S. Simon?" " I have heard my sister say as 
 much," continued Simon. 
 
 "Then your dream is interpreted," said Brindle, em- 
 phatically. "Your Uncle, S. S. Simon, has left one of the 
 largest estates in Arkansas, and now you are on the steam 
 wagon again," said Brindle, slapping his companion on the 
 
 shoulder. 
 
 Brindle had been instructed by his mother, and made 
 
70 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Cousin Caesar acquainted with the outline of all the history- 
 detailed in this narrative, except the history of Roxie Day- 
 mon alias Roxie Fairfield, in Chicago. 
 
 The next day the two men were hired as hands to go 
 down the river on a flat-bottom boat. 
 
 Roxie Daymon, whose death has been recorded, left an 
 only daughter, now grown to womanhood, and bearing her 
 mother's name. Seated in the parlor of one of the descend- 
 ants of Aunt Patsy Perkins, in Chicago, we see her sad, and 
 alone; we hear the hall bell ring. A servant announces the 
 name of Gov. Morock. "Show the Governor up," said 
 Roxie, sadly. The ever open ear of the Angel of observa- 
 tion has only furnished us with the following conversation : 
 
 "Everything is positively lost, madam, not a cent in 
 the world. Every case has gone against us, and no appeal, 
 madam. You are left hopelessly destitute, and penniless. 
 Daymon should have employed me ten years ago — but now, 
 it is too late. Everything is gone, madam," and the Gov- 
 ernor paused. "My mother was once a poor, penniless 
 girl, and I can bear it too," said Roxie, calmly. " But you 
 see," said the Governor, softening his voice; "you are a 
 handsome young lady; your fortune is yet to be made. For 
 fifty dollars, madam, I can fix you up a shadow, that will 
 marry you off. You see the law has some loop holes and — 
 and in your case, madam, it is no harm to take one; no 
 harm, no harm, madam," and the Governor paused again. 
 Roxie looked at the man sternly, and said: "I have no 
 further use for a lawyer, Sir." "Any business hereafter, 
 madam, that you may wish transacted, send your card to 
 No. 77, Strait street," and the Governor made a side move 
 toward the door, touched the rim of his hat and disappeared. 
 
 It was in the golden month of October, and calm, 
 smoky days of Indian summer, that a party of young people 
 living in Chicago, made arrangements for a pleasure trip to 
 
PEN PICTURES. 71 
 
 New Orleans. There were four or five young ladies in the 
 party, and Roxie Daymon was one. She was handsome and 
 interesting — if her fortune was gone. The party consisted of 
 the moneyed aristocracy of the city, with whom Roxie had 
 been raised and educated. Every one of the party was 
 willing to contribute and pay Roxie's expenses, for the sake 
 of her company. A magnificent steamer, of the day, plying 
 between St. Louis and New Orleans, was selected for the 
 carrier, three hundred feet in length, and sixty feet wide. 
 The passenger cabin was on the upper deck, nearly two 
 hundred feet in length; a guard eight feet wide, for a foot- 
 way, and promenade on the outside of the hall, extended on 
 both sides, the full length of the cabin ; a plank partition di- 
 vided the long hall— the aft room was the ladies', the front 
 the gentlemen's cabin. The iron horse, or some of his suc- 
 cessors, will banish these magnificent floating palaces, and I 
 describe, for the benefit of coming generations. 
 
 Nothing of interest occured to our party, until the boat 
 landed at the Simon plantations. Young Simon and cousin 
 Caesar boarded the boat, for passage to New Orleans, for they 
 were on their way to the West Indies, to spend the winter. 
 Young Simon was in the last stage of consumption and his 
 physician had recommended the trip as the last remedy. 
 Young Simon was walking on the outside guard, opposite the 
 ladies' cabin, when a female voice with a shrill and piercing 
 tone rang upon his ear— "Take Roxie Daymon away." The 
 girls were romping. — " Take Roxie Daymon away," were the 
 mysterious dying words of young Simon's father. Simon 
 turned, and mentally bewildered, entered the gentlemen's 
 cabin. A colored boy, some twelve years of age, in the ser- 
 vice of the boat, was passing— Simon held a silver dollar in 
 his hand as he said, "I will give you this, if you will ascer- 
 tain and point out to me the lady in the cabin, that they call 
 Roxie Daymon." The imp of Africa s^Vd th* ^oin, and 
 
"2 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 passing on said in a voice too low for Simon's ear, "good 
 bargain, boss." The Roman Eagle was running down stream 
 through the dark and muddy waters of the Mississippi, at the 
 rate of twenty miles an hour. 
 
 In the dusk of the evening, Young Simon and Roxie 
 Daymon were sitting side by side — alone, on the aft-guard of 
 the boat. The ever open ear of the Angel of observation has 
 furnished us with the following conversation. 
 
 "Your mother's maiden name, is what I am anxious to 
 learn," said Simon gravely. 
 
 11 Roxie Fairfield, an orphan girl, raised in Kentucky." said 
 Roxie sadlv. 
 
 J 
 
 "Was she an only child, or did she have sisters?" said 
 Simon inquiringly. 
 
 " My mother died long years ago—when I was too young 
 to remember, my father had no relations— that I ever heard of 
 — Old aunt Patsey Perkins— a great friend of mother's in her 
 life -time, told me after mother was dead, and 1 had grown 
 large enough to think about kinsfolk, that mother had two sis- 
 ters somewhere, named Rose and Suza, poor trash, as she 
 called them ; and that is all I know of my relations : and to be 
 frank with you, I am nothing but poor trash too, I have no 
 family history to boast of," said Roxie honestly. 
 
 "You will please excuse me Miss, for wishing to know 
 something of your family history— there is a mystery connec- 
 ted with it, that may prove to your advantage"— Simon was 
 convinced. — He pronounced the word twenty — when the An- 
 gel of caution placed his finger on his lip— hush! — and young 
 Sunon turned the conversation, and as soon as he could po- 
 litely do so, left the presence of the young lady, and sought 
 cousin Caesar, who by the way, was well acquainted with the 
 most of the circumstances we have recorded, but had wisely 
 kept them to himself. Cousin Caesar now told young Simon 
 the whole story. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 73 
 
 Twenty-thousand dollars, with twenty years interest, was 
 against his estate. Roxie Daymon, the young lady en the 
 boat, was an heir, others lived in Kentucky — all of which 
 cousin Caesar learned from a descendant of Brindle Bill. The 
 pleasure party with Simon and cousin Caesar, stopped at the 
 same hotel in the Crescent City. At the end of three weeks 
 the pleasure party returned to Chicago. Young Simon and 
 cousin Caesar left for the West Indies. — Young Simon and 
 Roxie Daymon were engaged to be married the following 
 spring at Chicago. Simon saw many beautiful women in his 
 travels — but the image of Roxie Daymon was ever before him. 
 The good Angel of observation has failed to inform us, of 
 Roxie Daymon's feelings and object in the match. A young 
 and beautiful woman ; full of life and vigor consenting to wed 
 a dying man, hushed the voice of the good Angel, and he has 
 said nothing. 
 
 Spring with its softening breezes returned — the ever to 
 be remembered spring of 1861. 
 
 The shrill note of the iron horse announced the anival 
 of young Simon and cousin Caesar in Chicago, on the 7th day 
 of April, 1 86 1. 
 
 Simon had lived upon excitement, and reaching the des- 
 tination of his hopes— the great source of his life failed — cou- 
 sin Caesar carried him into the hotel — he never stood alone 
 again — the marriage was put off— until Simon should be bet- 
 ter. On the second day, cousin Caesar was preparing to leave 
 the room, on business in a distant part of the city. Roxie 
 had been several times alone with Simon, and was then \ res- 
 ent. Roxie handed a sealed note to cousin Caesar, politely 
 asking him to deliver it. The note was inscribed, Gov. Mo- 
 rock, No. 77 Strait street. 
 
 Cousin Caesar had been absent but a short time, when 
 that limb of the law appeared and wrote a will dictated by 
 young Simon ; bequeathing all of his possessions, without re-' 
 
74: PEN PICTURES. 
 
 serve to Roxie Daymon. u How much," said Roxie, as the 
 Governor was about to leave. " Cnly ten dollars, madam," 
 said the Governor, as he stuffed the bill carelessly in his vest 
 pocket and departed. 
 
 Through the long vigils of the night cousin Caesar sat by 
 the side of the dying man ; before the sun had silvered the 
 eastern horizon, the soul of young Simon was with his fathers. 
 The day was consumed in making preparations for the last, 
 honor due the dead. Cousin Caesar arranged with a party 
 to take the remains to Arkansas, and place the son by the 
 side of the father, on the home»plantation. The next morn- 
 ing as cousin Caesar was scanning the morning papers, the fol- 
 lowing brief notice attracted his attention: " Young Simon, 
 the wealthy young cotton planter, who died in the city yester- 
 day, left by his last will and testament his whole estate, worth 
 more than a million of dollars, to Roxie Daymon, a young 
 lady of this city. 
 
 Cousin Caesar was bewildered and astonished. He was 
 a stranger in the city ; he rubbed his hand across his forehead 
 to collect his thoughts, and remembered No. 77 Strait street. 
 "Yes I observed it — it is a law office," he said mentally, 
 "there is something in that number seventy-seven, I have 
 never understood it before, since my dream on the steam car- 
 nage seventy-seven ," and cousin Caesar directed his steps to- 
 ward St r ait street. 
 
 " Important business, I suppose sir," said Governor Mo- 
 rock, as he read cousin Caesar's anxious countenance. 
 
 "Yes, somewhat so," said cousin Caesar, pointing to the 
 notice in the paper, he continued: " I am a relative of Simon 
 and have served him faithfully for two years, and they say he 
 has willed his estate to a stranger." 
 
 " Is it p-o-s-s-i-b-l-e-," said the Governor, affecting aston- 
 ishment. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 75 
 
 " What would you advise me to do ? " said cousin Cae- 
 sar imploringly. 
 
 " Break the will — break the will, sir, r ' said the Governor 
 
 emphatically. 
 
 ' Ah! that will take money," said cousin Caesar sadly. 
 
 " Yes, yes, but it will bring money," said the Governor, 
 rubbing his hands together. 
 
 "I s-u-p p-o-s-ewe would be required to prove incapac- 
 ity on the part of Simon," said cousin Caesar slowly. 
 
 "Money will prove anything," said the Governor decid- 
 edly. 
 
 The Governor struck the right key, for cousin Caesar was 
 well schooled in treacherous humanity, and noted for seeing 
 the bottom of things; but he did not see the bottom of the 
 Governor's dark designs. 
 
 " How much for this case ? "said cousin Caesar. 
 
 "Oh! I am liberal — I am liberal," said the Governor 
 rubbing his hands and continuing, " can't tell exactly, owing 
 to the trouble and cost of the things, as we go along. A mil- 
 lion is the stake — well, let me see, this is no child's play. A 
 man that has studied for long years — you can't expect him to 
 be cheap — but as I am in the habit of working for nothing — 
 if you will pay me one thousand dollars in advance, I will 
 undertake the case, and then a few more thousands will round 
 it U p — can't say exactly, any more sir, than I am always lib- 
 eral." 
 
 Cousin Caesar had some pocket-money, furnished by 
 young Simon, to pay expenses etc., amounting to a little more 
 than one thousand dollars. His mind was bewildered with 
 the number seventy-seven, and he paid over to the Governor 
 one thousand dollars. After Governor Morock had the mon- 
 ey safe in his pocket, he commenced a detail of the cost of 
 ftie suit — among other items, was a large amount for witnesses. 
 
76 PEN PICTURES. . 
 
 The Governor had the case — it was a big case — and the Gov- 
 ernor has determined to make it pay him. 
 
 Cousin Cseser reflected, and saw that he must have help, 
 and as he left the office of Governor Morock, said mentally : 
 '•' One of them d — n figure sevens I saw in my dream, would 
 fall off the pin, and I fear, I have struck the wrong lead." 
 
 In the soft twilight of the evening, when the conductor 
 cried, "all aboard," cousin Cassar was seated in the train, on 
 his way to Kentucky, to solicit aid from Cliff Carlo, the oldest 
 son and representative man, of the family descended from Don 
 Carlo, the hero of Shirt-Tail Band, and Suza Fairfield, the 
 belle of Port William. 
 
SCENE SEVENTH-WAR BETWEEN THE STATES. 
 
 The late civil war between the States of the American 
 Union was the inevitable result of two civilizations under one 
 government, which no power on earth could have prevented 
 We place the federal and confederate soldier m the same 
 scale */*, and one will not weigh the other down an atom. 
 So even will they poise that you may mark the small allow- 
 ance of the weight of a hair. But place upon the beam the 
 pea ot their actions while upon the stage, on either side, and 
 the poise may be up or down. 
 
 More than this, your orator has nothing to say of the 
 war except its effect upon the characters we describe. 
 
 ' The bright blossoms of a May morning were opening to 
 meet the sunlight, while the surrounding foliage was waving 
 in the soft breeze ol spring ; on the southern bank of the beautt- 
 ,ul Ohio, where the momentous events of the future were con- 
 cealed from the eyes of the preceding generation by the dark 
 veil oi the coming revolutions of the globe. 
 
 We see Cousin Caesar and Cliff Carlo in close counsel, 
 upon the subject of meeting the expenses of the contest at 
 law over the Simon estate, in the State of Arkansas 
 
 Cliff Carlo was rather non-committal. Roxte Daymen 
 was a near relative, and the unsolved problem in the case of 
 compromise and law did not admit of haste on the part of the 
 Carlo family. Compromise was not the forte of Cousin Cssar 
 To use his own words, "I have made the cast, and wul stand 
 the hazard of the die." 
 
78 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 But the enterprise, with surrounding circumstances, 
 would have baffled a bolder man than Cajsar Simon. The 
 first gun of the war had been fired at Fort Sumter, in South 
 Carolina, on the 12th day of April, 1861. 
 
 The President of the United States had called for seven- 
 ty-five thousand war-like men to redezvous at Washington 
 City, and form a Pmtorian guard, to strengthen the arm of 
 the government. To arms, to arms! was the cry both North 
 and South. The last lingering hope of peace between the 
 States had faded from the minds of all men, and the bloody 
 crest of war was painted on the horizon of the future. The 
 border slave States, in the hope of peace, had remained inac- 
 tive all winter. They now withdrew from the Union and 
 joined their fortunes with the South, except Kentucky — the 
 dark and bloody ground historic in the annals of war — showed 
 the white feather, and announced to the world that her soil 
 was the holy ground of peace. This proclamation was too 
 thin for Caesar Simon. Some of the Carlo family had long 
 since immigrated to Missouri. To consult with them on the will 
 affair, and meet with an element more disposed to defend his 
 prospect of property, Cousin Caesar left Kentucky for Mis- 
 souri. On the fourth day of July, 1861, in obedience to the 
 cali of the President, the Congress of the United States met 
 at Washington City. This Congress called to the contest five 
 hundred thousand men; "cried havoc and let slip the dogs of 
 war," and Missouri was invaded by federal troops, who were 
 subsequently put under the command of Gen. Lyon. About 
 the middle of July we see Cousin Caesar marching in the 
 army of Gen. Sterling Price — an army composed of all classes 
 of humanity, who rushed to the conflict without promise of 
 pay or assistance from the government of the Confederate 
 States of America— an army without arms or equipment, 
 except such as it gathered from the citizens, double-barreled 
 shot-guns — an army of volunteers without the promise of pay 
 
PEN PICTURES. 79 
 
 •or hope of reward; composed of men from eighteen to seventy 
 years of age, with a uniform of costume varying from the 
 walnut colored roundabout to the pigeon-tailed broadcloth 
 coat. The mechanic and the farmer, the professional and 
 the non-professional, the merchant and the jobber, the specu 
 lator and the butcher, the country schoolmaster and the 
 printer's devil, the laboring man and the dead-beat, all rushed 
 into Price's army, seemingly under the influence of the watch- 
 word of the old Jews, "To your tents, O Israel!" and it is a 
 fact worthy of record that this unarmed and untrained army 
 never lost a battle on Missouri soil in the first year of the 
 war.* Gov. Jackson had fled from Jefferson City on the 
 approach of the federal army, and assembled the Legislature at 
 Neosho, in the southwest corner of the State, who were una- 
 ble to assist Price's army. The troops went into the field, 
 thrashed the wheat and milled it for themselves; were often 
 upon half rations, and frequently lived upon roasting ears. 
 Except the Indian or border war in Kentucky, fought by a 
 preceding generation, the first year of the war in Missouri is 
 unparalleled in the history of war on this continent. Gen. 
 Price managed to subsist an army without governmental 
 resources. His men were never demoralized for the want of 
 food, pay or clothing, and were always cheerful, and fre- 
 quently danced 'round their camp-fires, bare-footed and rag- 
 ged, with a spirit of merriment that would put the blush upon 
 the cheek of a circus. Gen. Price wore nothing upon his 
 shoulders but a brown linen duster, and, his white hair stream- 
 ing in the breeze on the field of battle, was a picture resem- 
 bling the war-god of the Romans in ancient fable. 
 
 This army of ragged heroes marched over eight hundred 
 miles on Missouri soil, and seldom passed a week without an 
 engagement of some kind — it was confined to no particular 
 
 *The so called battle of Boonville was a rash venture of citizens, not under the 
 command cf Gen. Price at the time. • i 
 
80 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 line of operations, but fought the enemy wherever thev found 
 him. It had started on the campaign without a dollar, with- 
 out a wagon, without a cartridge, and without a bayonet- 
 gun ; and when it was called east of the Missisippi river, it 
 possessed about eight thousand bayonet-guns, fifty pieces of 
 cannon, and four hundred tents, taken almost exclusively 
 from the Federals, on the hard-fought fields of battle. 
 
 When this army crossed the Mississippi river the star of 
 its glory had set never to rise again. The invigorating name 
 of state rights was merged in the Southern Confederacy. 
 
 With this prelude to surrounding circumstances, we will 
 now follow the fortunes of Cousin Caesar. Enured to hard- 
 ships in early life, possessing a penetrating mind and a selfish 
 disposition, Cousin Caesar was ever ready to float on the 
 stream of prosperity, with triumphant banners, cr go down 
 as drift wood. 
 
 And whatever he may have lacked in manhood, he was 
 as brave as a lion on the battle-field ; and the campaign of 
 Gen. Price in Missouri suited no private soldier better than 
 Caesar Simon. Like all soldiers in an active army, he thought 
 only of battle and amusement. Consequently, the will, 
 Gov. Morock and the Simon estate occupied but little of 
 Cousin Caesar s reflections. One idea had taken possession 
 of him, and that was southern victory. He enjoyed the tri- 
 umphs of his fellow soldiers, and ate his roasting ears with 
 the same invigorating spirit. A sober second thought and 
 cool reflections only come with the struggle for his own life, 
 and with it a self-reproach that always, sooner or later, Over- 
 takes the faithless. 
 
 The battle of Oak Hill, usually called the battle of 
 Springfield, was one of the hardest battles fought west of the 
 Mississippi river. The federal troops, under Gen. Lyon, 
 amounted to nearly ten thousand men. The confederate 
 
PEN PICTURES. 81 
 
 t oops, under Generals McCulloch, Price, and Pearce, were 
 about eleven thousand men. 
 
 On the ninth of August the Confederates camped at 
 Wilson's Creek, intending to advance upon the Federals at 
 Springfield. The next morning General Lyon attacked them 
 before sunrise The battle was fought with rash bravery on 
 both sides. General Lyon, after having been twice wounded, 
 was shot dead while leading a rash charge. Half the loss on 
 the Confederate side was from Price's army — a sad memorial 
 of the part they took in the contest. Soon after the fall of 
 General Lyon the Federals retreated to Springfield, and left 
 the Confederates master of the field. About the closing 
 scene of the last struggle, Cousin Caesar received a musket 
 ball in the right leg, and fell among the wounded and dying. 
 
 The wound was not necessarily fatal; no bone was 
 broken, but it was very painful and bleeding profusely. 
 When Cousin Caesar, after lying a long time where he fell, 
 realized the situation, he saw that without assistance he must 
 bleed to death j and impatient to wait for some one to pick 
 him up, he sought quarters by his own exertions. He had 
 managed to crawl a quarter of a mile, and gave out at a point 
 where no one would think of looking for the wounded. Weak 
 from the loss of blood, he could crawl no farther. The light 
 of day was only discernable in the dim distance of the West; 
 the Angel of silence had spread her wing over the bloody 
 battle field. In vain Cousin Caesar pressed his hand upon 
 the wound ; the crimson life would ooze out between his fin- 
 gers, and Cousin Caesar lay down to die. It was now dark; 
 no light met his eye, and no sound came to his ear, save the 
 song of two grasshoppers in a cluster of bushes — one sang 
 " Katie-did! " and the other sang " Katie-didn't !" Cousin 
 Caesar said, mentally, "It will soon be decided with me 
 whether Katie did or whether she didn't ! Jn the last mo- 
 ments of hope Cousin Caesar heard and recognized the sound 
 
 6 
 
82 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 of a human voice, and gathering all the strength of his lungs, 
 pronounced the word — "S-t-e-v-e! " In a short time he saw 
 two men approaching him. It was Steve Brindle and a Cher- 
 okee Indian. As soon as they saw the situation, the Indian 
 darted like a wild deer to where there had been a camp fire, 
 and returned with his cap full of ashes which he applied to 
 Cousin Caesar's wound. Steve Brindle bound it up and 
 stopped the blood. The two men then carried the wounded 
 man to camp — to recover and reflect upon the past. Steve 
 Brindle was a private, in the army of General Pearce, from 
 Arkansas, and the Cherokee Indian was a camp follower be- 
 longing to the army of General McCulloch. They were look- 
 ing over the battle field in search of their missing friends, 
 when they accidentally discovered and saved Cousin Caesar, 
 
 Early in the month of September, Generals McCulloch 
 and Price having disagreed on the plan of campaign, General 
 Price announced to his officers his intention of moving north, 
 and required a report of effective men in his army. A lieu- 
 tenant, after canvassing the company to which Cousin Caesar 
 belonged, went to him as the last man. Cousin Caesar re- 
 ported ready for duty. " All right, you- are the last man — » 
 No. 77," said the lieutenant, hastily, leaving Cousin Caesar 
 to his reflections. "There is that number again; what can 
 it mean ? Marching north, perhaps to meet a large force, is 
 
 our company to be reduced to seven ? One of them d d 
 
 figure sevens would fall off and one would be left on the pin. 
 How should it be counted — s-e-v-e-n or half? Set up two guns 
 and take one away, half would be left ; enlist two men, and 
 
 if one is killed, half would be left — yet, with these d d 
 
 figures, when you take one you only have one eleventh part 
 left. Cut by the turn of fortune; cut with short rations; cut 
 with a musket ball ; cut by self-reproach — ah, thafs the deepest 
 cut of all!" said Cousin Caesar, mentally, as he retired to the 
 tent. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 83 
 
 Steve Brindle had saved Cousin Caesar's life, had been 
 an old comrade in many a hard game, had divided his last 
 cent with him in many hard places, had given him his family 
 history and opened the door for him to step into the palace 
 of wealth. Yet, when Cousin Caesar was surrounded with 
 wealth and power, when honest employment would, in al 1 
 human possibility, have redeemed his old comrade, Cousin 
 Caesar, willing to conceal his antecedents, did not know 
 S-t-e-v-e Brindle. 
 
 General Price reached the Missouri river, at Lexington, 
 on the 1 2 th of September, and on the 20th captured a Fed- 
 eral force intrenched there, under the command of Crlonel 
 Mulligan, from whom he obtained five cannon, two mortars 
 and over three thousand bayonet guns. In fear of large 
 Federal forces north of the Missouri river, General Price 
 retreated south. Cousin Caesar was again animated with the 
 spirit of war and had dismissed the superstitious fear of 77 
 from his mind. He continued his amusements 'round the 
 camp fires in Price's army, as he said, mentally, " Governor 
 Morock will keep things straight, at his office on Strait street, 
 in Chicago." 
 
 Roxie Daymon had pleasantly passed the summer and 
 fall on the reputation of being rich, and was always the toast 
 in the fashionable parties of the upper-ten in Chicago. 
 During the first year of the war it was emphatically announced 
 by the government at Washington, that it would never inter- 
 fere with the slaves of loyal men. Roxie Daymon was loyal 
 and lived in a loyal city. It was war times, and Roxie had 
 received no dividends from the Simon estate . 
 
 In the month of January, 1862, the cold north wind 
 from the lakes swept the dust from the streets in Chicago, and 
 seemed to warn the secret, silent thoughts of humanity of the 
 great necessity of m-o-n-e-y. 
 
 The good Angel of observation saw Roxie Daymon, with 
 
84: PEN PICTURES. 
 
 a richly-trimmed fur cloak upon her shoulders and hands 
 muffed, walking swiftly on Strait street, m Chicago, watching 
 the numbers— at No.. 77 she disappeared. 
 
 The good Angel opened his ear and has furnished us 
 with the following conversation; 
 
 11 1 have heard incidentally that Caesar Simon is prepar 
 fng to break ihe will of my esteemed friend, Young Simon, of 
 Arkansas," said Roxie, sadly. 
 
 '• Is itp-o-s s-i-b-i e?" said Governor Morock, affecting as- 
 tonishment, and then continued, ' 'More work for the lawyers, 
 you know I am always liberal, madam." <; But do you think 
 it possible ? " said Roxie, inquiringly. ' i You have money 
 enough to fight with, madam, money enough to fight," said 
 the Governor, decidedly. "I suppose we will have to prove 
 that Simon was in full possession of his mental faculties at the 
 time.'"' said Roxie, with legal acumen. " Certainly, certainly 
 madam, money will prove anything ; will prove anything, 
 madam/ said the Governor, rubbing his hands. "1 believe 
 you were the only person present at the time," said Roxie, 
 honestly. 
 
 "I am always liberal, madam, a few thousands will 
 arrange the testimony, madam. Leave that to me, if you 
 please,"' and in a softer tone of voice the Governor continued, 
 "you ought to pick up the crumbs, madam, pick up the 
 crumbs." "I would like to do so for I have never spent a 
 cent in the prospect of the estate, though my credit is good 
 for thousands in this city. . I want to see how a dead man's 
 choes will fit before I wear them," said Roxie, sadly. 
 
 "Good philosophy, madam, good philosophy," said the 
 Governor, and continued to explain. "There is cotton on 
 the bank of the river at the Simon plantations. Some 
 arrangement ought to be made, and I think I could do it 
 through some officer of the federal army, "said the Governor, 
 
PEN PICTURES. <$5 
 
 rubbing his hand across his forehead, and continued, " that's 
 what I mean by picking up the crumbs, madam." 
 
 "How much ? " said Roxie, preparing to leave the office. 
 
 "I am always liberal, madam, always liberal. Let mc 
 see ; it is attended with some difficulty; can't leave the city; 
 too much business pressing (rubbing his hands) ; well — well 
 — I will pick up the crumbs for half. Think I can secure 
 two or three hundred bales of cotton, madam," said the 
 Governor, confidentially. 
 
 "How much is a bale of cotton worth?" said Roxie, 
 affecting ignorance. 
 
 "Only four hundred dollars, madam; nothing but a 
 crumb — nothing but a crumb, madam," said the Governor, 
 in a tone of flattery. 
 
 "Do the best you can," said Roxie, in a confidential 
 tone, as she left the office. 
 
 Governor Morock was enjoying the reputation of the 
 fashionable lawyer among the upper-ten in Chicago. Roxie 
 Daymon's good sense condemned him, but she did not feel 
 at liberty to break the line of association. 
 
 Cliff Carlo did nothing but write a letter of inquiry to 
 Governor Morock, who informed him that the Simon estate 
 was worth more than a million and a quarter, and that 
 m-o-n-e-y would break the will. 
 
 The second year of the war burst the bubble of peace 
 in Kentucky. The State was invaded on both sides. The 
 clang of arms on the soil where the heroes of a preceding 
 generation slept, called the martial spirits in the shades of 
 Kentucky to rise and shake off the delusion that peace and 
 pienty breed cowards. Cliff Carlo, and many others of the 
 brave sons of Kentucky, united with the southern armies, 
 and fully redeemed their war like character, as worthy de- 
 scendents of the heroes of the dark and bloody ground. 
 
 Cliff Carlo passed through the struggles of the war with- 
 
36 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 out a sick day or the pain of a wound. We must, therefore, 
 follow the fate of the less fortunate Caesar Simon. 
 
 During the winter of the first year of the war, Price's 
 army camped en the southern border of Missouri. 
 
 On the third day of March, 1862, Maj. Gen. Earl Van 
 Dorn, of the Confederate government, assumed the command 
 of the troops under Price and McCulloch, and on the seventh 
 day of March attacked the Federal forces under Curtis and 
 Sturgis, twenty-five thousand strong, at Elkhorn, Van Dorn 
 commanding about twenty thousand men. 
 
 Price's army constituted the left and center, with Mc- 
 Culloch on the right. The fight was long and uncertain. 
 About two o'clock McCulloch fell, and his forces failed to 
 press the contest. 
 
 The Federals retreated in good order, leaving the Con- 
 federates master of the situation. 
 
 For some unaccountable decision on the part of Gen. 
 Van Dorn, a retreat of the southern army was ordered, and 
 instead of pursuing the Federals, the wheels of the Southern 
 army were seen rolling south. 
 
 Gen. Van Dorn had ordered the sick and disabled many 
 miles in advance of the army. Cousin Caesar had passed 
 through the conflict safe and sound ; it was a camp rumor 
 ihat Steve Brindle was mortally wounded and sent forward 
 with the sick. The mantle of night hung over Price's army, 
 and the camp fires glimmered in the soft breeze of the even- 
 ing. Silently and alone Cousin Caesar stole away from the 
 scene on a mission of love and duty. Poor Steve Brindle 
 had ever been faithful to him, and Cousin Caesar had suffered 
 self-reproach for his unaccountable neglect of a faithful friend. 
 An opportunity now presented itself for Cousin Caesar to 
 relieve his conscience and possibly smooth the dying pillow 
 of his faithful friend, Steve Brindle. 
 
 Bravely and fearlessly on he sped and arrived at the 
 
PEN PICTURES. 3^ 
 
 camp of the sick. Worn down with the march, Cousin 
 Caesar never rested until he had looked upon the face of the 
 last sick man. Steve was not there. 
 
 Slowly and sadly Cousin Caesar returned to the army, 
 making inquiry of every one he met for Steve Brindle. After 
 a long and fruitless inquiry, an Arkansas soldier handed 
 Cousin Ciesar a card, saying, " I was requested by a soldier 
 in our command to hand this card to the man whose name it 
 bears, in Price's army." Cousin Caesar took the card and 
 read, "Csaear Simon — No. 77 deserted." Cousin Caesar 
 threw the card down as though it was nothings as he said 
 mentally, "What can it mean. There are those d — d figures 
 again. Steve knew nothing of No. 77 in Chicago. How 
 am I to understand this ? Steve understood my ideas of the 
 mysterious No. 77 on the steam carriage. Steve has deserted 
 and takes this plan to inform me. Ah! that is it! Steve has 
 couched the information in language that no one can under- 
 stand but myself. Two of us were on the carriage and two 
 figure sevens ; one would fall off the pin. Steve has fallen off. 
 He knew I would understand his card when no one else 
 could. But did Steve only wish me to understand that he 
 had left, or did he wish me to follow ? " was a problem Cousin 
 Caesar was unable to decide. It was known to Cousin 
 Caesar that the Cherokee Indian who, in company with Steve, 
 saved his life at Springfield, had, in company with some of 
 his race, been brought upon the stage of war by Albert Pike. 
 Deserted ! And Cousin Caesar was left alone, with no bosom 
 friend save the friendship of one southern soldier for another, 
 And the idea of desertion entered the brain of Caesar Simon 
 for the first time. 
 
 Caesar Simon was a born soldier, animated by the clang 
 of arms and roar of battle, and although educated in the 
 school of treacherous humanity, he was one of the few who 
 resolved to die in the last ditch, and he concluded his reflec- 
 
88 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 tions with the sarcastic remark, "Steve Brindle is a coward." 
 Before Gen. Van Dorn faced the enemy again, he was 
 called east of the Mississippi river. Price's army embarked 
 at Des Arc, on White river, and when the last man was on 
 board the boats, there were none more cheerful than Cousin 
 Caesar. He was going to fight on the soil of his native State, 
 for it was generally understood the march by water was to 
 Memphis, Tennessee. 
 
 It is said that a portion of Price's army showed the 
 white feather at Iuka. Cousin Caesar was not in that division 
 of the army. After that event he was a camp lecturer, and 
 to him the heroism of the army owes a tribute in memory 
 for the brave hand to hand fight in the streets of Corinth, 
 where, from house to house and within a stone's throw of 
 Rosecrans-' headquarters, Price's men made the Federals fly. 
 But the Federals were reinforced from their outposts, and 
 Gen. Van Dorn was in command, and the record says he 
 made a rash attack and a hasty retreat. 
 
 Maj. Gen. T. C. Hindman was the southern commander 
 of what was called the district of Arkansas west of the Mis- 
 sissippi river. He was a petty despot as well as an unsuc- 
 cessful commander of an army. The country suffered un- 
 paralleled abuses; crops were ravaged, cotton burned, and 
 the magnificent palaces of the southern planter licked up by 
 flames. The torch was applied frequently by an unknown 
 hand. The Southern commander burned cotton to prevent 
 its falling into the hands of the enemy. Straggling soldiers 
 belonging to distant commands traversed the country, robbing 
 the people and burning. How much of this useless destruc- 
 tion is chargable to Confederate or Federal commanders, it 
 is impossible to determine. Much of the waste inflicted upon 
 the country was by the hand of lawless guerrillas. Four hun- 
 dred bales of cotton were burned on the Simon plantation, 
 and the residence on the home plantation, that cost S. S. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 89 
 
 Simon over sixty-five thousand dollars, was nothing but a 
 heap of ashes. 
 
 Governor Morock's agents never got any crumbs, al- 
 though the Governor had used nearly all of the thousand 
 dollars obtained from Cousin Caesar to pick up the crumbs on 
 the Simon plantations, he never got a crumb. 
 
 General Hindman was relieved of his command west 
 of the Mississippi, by President Davis. Generals Kirby, 
 Smith, Holmes and Price subsequently commanded the 
 Southern trocps west of the great river. The federals had 
 fortified Helena, a point three hundred miles above Vicks 
 burg on the west bank of the river. They had three forts 
 with a gun-boat lying in the river, and were about four 
 thousand strong. They were attacked by General Holmes, 
 on the 4th day of July, 1863. General Holmes had under 
 his command General Price's division of infantry, about 
 fourteen hundred men; Fagans brigade of Arkansas, 
 infantry, numbering' fifteen hundred men, and Marmaduke's 
 division of Arkansas, and Missouri cavalry, about two 
 thousand, making a total of four thousand and nine hundred 
 men. Marmaduke was ordered to attack the northern fort ; 
 Fagan was to attack the southern fort, and General Price 
 the center fort. The onset to be simultaneously and at day- 
 light. 
 
 General Price carried his position. Marmaduke and 
 Fagan failed. The gun-boat in the river shelled the captured 
 fort. Price's men sheltered themselves as best they could 
 awaiting further orders. The scene was alarming above 
 description to Price's men. It was the holiday of American 
 Independence. The failure of their comrades in arms would 
 compel them to retreat under a deadly fire from the enemy. 
 While thus waiting, the turn of battle crouched beneath an 
 old stump. Cousin Caesar saw in the distance and recog- 
 nized Steve Brindle, he was a soldier in the federal army. 
 
90 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 " Oh treacherous humanity ! must I live to learn thee still 
 Steve Brindle fights for m-o-n-e-y ?" said Caesar Simon, 
 mentally. The good Angel of observation whispered in his 
 ear: " Caesar Simon fights for land stripped of its ornaments. 
 Cousin Caesar scanned the situation and continued to say, 
 mentally: " Life is a sentence of punishment passed by the 
 court of existence on every private soldier" 
 
 The battle field is the place of execution, and rash 
 commanders are often the executioners. After repeated 
 efforts General Holmes failed to carry the other positions. 
 The retreat of Price's men was ordered ; it was accomplished 
 with heavy loss. Caesar Simon fell, and with him perished 
 the last link in the chain of the Simon family in the male 
 line. 
 
 We must now let the curtain fall upon the sad events of 
 the war until the globe makes nearly two more revolutions 
 'round the sun in its orbit, and then we see the Southern 
 soldiers weary and war-worn — sadly deficient in numbers — 
 lay down their arms — the war is ended. The Angel of 
 peace has spread her golden wing from Maine to Florida, 
 and from Virginia to California. The proclamation of free- 
 dom, by President Lincoln, knocked the dollars and cents 
 out of the flesh and blood of every slave on the Simon plan- 
 tations. Civil courts are in session. The last foot of the 
 Simon land has been sold at sheriff's sale to pay judgments, 
 just and unjust. 
 
 The goose that laid the golden egg 
 Has paddled across the river. 
 
 Governor Morock has retired from the profession, or 
 the profession has retired from him. He is living on the 
 cheap sale of a bad reputation — that is— all who wish dirty 
 work performed at a low price employ Governor Morock. 
 
 Roxie Daymon has married a young mechanic, and is 
 happy in a cottage home. She blots the memory of the 
 
PEN PICTURES. 91 
 
 past by reading the poem entitled, "The Workman's Satur- 
 day Night." 
 
 Cliff Carlo is a prosperous farmer in Kentucky and 
 subscriber for 
 
 The Rough Diamond. 
 
 
 "3?— ♦ 
 
History, Science, Philosophy and Art, 
 
 BLENDED IN ORIGINAL LECTURES. 
 
 LECTURE I.— LIBERTY AND LAW. 
 
 The soul of no sane man was ever so dead, that it could 
 not be aroused from lethargy by the invigorating name of 
 liberty. 
 
 Human speech has never couched in shape and form any 
 word more sacred to mortal ear than liberty. 
 
 Dearer than life to the patriotic heart, as expressed by 
 the great American orator when he said, " Give me liberty or 
 give me death. " 
 
 Strange, but still 'tis true, no philosopher has ever told 
 us what liberty is. 
 
 Looking back o'er the dark centuries of the past we ob- 
 serve representative men among all nations arousing the 
 people with the old watch word, liberty. 
 
 Julius Caesar, Charlemagne, William the Conqueror, 
 Napoleon Bonaparte, and all great leaders of revolutions, 
 raised the universal cry of oppression and fought under the 
 banner of liberty. 
 
 All nations have not lived under the same government, 
 
94 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 hence it is evident that liberty itself must change with the 
 times and circumstances. 
 
 When liberty is spoken of every one has an idea of what 
 is meant, for every one has known what it is to live in free- 
 dom, and also what it is to live and act under restraint. 
 
 But then it is obvious, that different persons enjoy liberty 
 according to circumstances. 
 
 Things that infringe upon the liberty of some, have no 
 such effect upon the liberty of others. 
 
 So, in a situation where one would feel at liberty, another 
 would feel himself in bofidage. 
 
 Hence it is evident, though all have a general idea of 
 what liberty is, that all have not the same idea of it. 
 
 For, as different persons would not all feel free under 
 the same circumstances, it follows that liberty itself is not the 
 same thing at all. 
 
 A man educated in the law feels free in his library, force 
 him to the handles of the plow and he would feel himself in 
 bondage. 
 
 Ah ! Liberty — what is Liberty ? 
 The Goddess adored by primitive man, 
 In olden times, when justice first began, 
 With weights and balances in her hand, 
 Reigned triumphant o'er the Grecian land. 
 Some ancient sage, the brilliant Goddess saw, 
 At first sight lov'd, and changed her name to law, 
 And then the duties of domestic life 
 Incumbent to her, as to every wife. 
 Wooed by millions since that wedding day, 
 All of her suitors are compelled to say, 
 Individuals must their freedom draw, 
 From the union of liberty and law. 
 
 But says one, is the universal cry of liberty nothing but 
 a name ? is there no such thing as national liberty ? There 
 is — all nations have the inherent right to make their own laws 
 
PEN PICTURES; 95 
 
 or in other words to lay the foundation of their own liberties. 
 
 But as to individual liberty, outside of law, there is no 
 such thing. 
 
 Law is a universal rule by which the conduct of all is 
 measured, the regulator of society, adopted anciently by 
 kings and rulers, modernly by the people who are the sov- 
 ereigns of this land. 
 
 The first definition of the word law is, power or force ; 
 the laws of nature are the result of the power of the unseen 
 hand — the hand of the ruler of the Universe. 
 
 The laws of society originate with wise and just men, 
 and ripen into the laws of the land ; the power of the ruler 
 is the first principle of all law. 
 
 The first definition of the word liberty is freedom from 
 restraint, in the union of liberty and law ; one is free from 
 restraint as measured by the rule of the law. 
 
 To be entirely free from restraint would be enjoyed by 
 few men, and it has been wisely said, "Where there is no 
 law there is no freedom." 
 
 Place a man upon an island, solitary and alone — 
 
 "And from the center, all round to the sea, 
 He would be monarch of all he surveyed." 
 
 But the moment another man landed upon the island, to 
 have association together, each man would be under restraint. 
 
 The force of necessity would compel them to form the 
 blossom of society, and from the customs of society and 
 fruits of association we lay the foundation of the laws of 
 the land. 
 
 In all modern nations the people are indirectly the law 
 making power. Public opinion is the blossom of law, for 
 vhen it is raised sufficiently high its power is irresistible. 
 
 Charles the First, of England, and Louis the Sixteenth, 
 of France, could not resist public opinion. 
 
96 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Justice is the object in view when we appeal to the law, 
 and the proper administration of the law is justice according 
 to law. 
 
 While justice is the object of law in the first place, and 
 the proper administration of law in the second place, one 
 may receive justice according to law, but it will be justice 
 only in proportion to the justness of the jaw. 
 
 Many things considered just by primitive society fall far 
 short of justice in more advanced civilization. 
 
 All nations shape most of their laws according to circum- 
 stances, and as time changes or ameliorates circumstances, 
 we say the times have changed and so have the laws. 
 
 But says one, if liberty is regulated by law, uniform law 
 should produce uniform restraint; or, in other words, under 
 the same laws all should enjoy the same liberties. 
 
 Why is it the beggar is drummed out of town for stealing 
 a loaf of bread while the millionaire steals thousands with 
 impunity ? 
 
 Human laws, unlike divine laws, do not operate of 
 themselves ; they are put in force by human hands. Officers 
 of the law like other men are more or less governed by cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 Self and self-preservation is the first law of human nature 
 and few men can stand above the influence of circumstances, 
 and thus money has ever ameliorated crime. 
 
 When a man who has plenty of money breaks the law 
 there are a thousand eyes turned in every direction to find 
 some excuse — every nook and corner is canvassed to pick up 
 something to palliate the crime. 
 
 But reverse the rule and apply it to the moneyless man — 
 no eye is opened by self-interest, or turned round by the 
 greedy love of gold. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 97 
 
 Justice and judges, as cold as the Jews, 
 Will meet in the court and give him his dues ; 
 No plea has been found, since justice began, 
 To lie in court for a moneyless man. 
 
 While many of our laws are permanent, the administra- 
 tion of them is frequently influenced by the surrounding cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 The laws of human nature and the laws of society fre- 
 quently come in conflict. Our ideas and natural inclinations 
 are not all free — like individual persons, they are free only 
 according to the laws of the mind. 
 
 The laws of the mind govern, to some extent, the actions 
 of men. For we cannot assume that all men are held under 
 restraint only by the laws of society, or the laws of the land. 
 
 The laws of organism govern all regulated minds — hence 
 when reason fails to assert authority over the mind, the pas- 
 sions are not under control — they are left free and will grasp 
 satisfaction. 
 
 An eminent mental philosopher said, ' ' Man is happy in 
 proportion to the satisfaction of his mental faculties." I 
 should rather say — Man is happy in proportion to the capa- 
 bility of his mind to govern itself. 
 
 The laws of organism govern all well regulated minds. 
 The eye is a mental organ of the mind — in fact, it is but the 
 end of a mental nerve, and, if correctly organized, the light 
 is made manifest to the brain— and thus we see. All of our 
 mental organs are like the eye, they receive their influence 
 externally. We are creatures operated upon by circum- 
 stances. The savage man belongs to savage circumstances 
 — and the civilized man to civilized circumstances. 
 
 The laws of savage life, or human nature, incline all men 
 to dishonesty— it is natural for a man to take advantage of 
 others, to gratify his passions; the laws of civilization is the 
 only restraint. 
 
98 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Universal marriage as soon as maturity arrives, is the 
 natural impulse of youth. 
 
 To take possession of anything as soon as it .s deserted, 
 or laid aside by another, is the natural impulse of the savage. 
 Honesty, virtue, and manhood all arise from our laws and 
 civilization. Hence, we see primitive men all rogues. And 
 I am sorry to say some cling with unabating tenacity to a 
 long line of ancestors. 
 
 My countrymen pay much attention to the improvement 
 of their stock, read long pedigrees and pay high prices for a 
 cow. The cow is valued not for what she possesses, but for 
 her blood. When they come to select a wife, the first in- 
 quiry is what does she possess ? what is she worth ? They 
 seldom inquire whether her physical and mental abilities are 
 suitable to them as individuals, whether the family will be 
 on the up or the down grade. Until the union of men and 
 women is effected with more judgment, progress in the human 
 race must depend entirely upon education. 
 
 That our civilization can make no farther advances, is 
 one of the great errors of the age. 
 
 Some of our customs and laws that have oeen in vogue 
 since the dawn of history, can and will be set aside. 
 
 All men venerate antiquity, and to part with an old idea, 
 or change our view of ancient justice, and venerated customs, 
 handed down from one generation to another, through the 
 long centuries of the past, is like burying an old friend — he 
 is gone, but we cannot forget him. 
 
 And thus we hold on with unabating tenacity to the 
 customs of our fathers. A man may boast of a long line of 
 learned ancestors, and flatter himself with the idea that he was 
 bred in a high state of civilization, while in truth he is at best 
 only a half breed. • As long as money elevates family, few 
 can claim to be more than half bloods. 
 
 The laws of hereditary descent in connection with educa- 
 
PEN PICTURES, 99 
 
 :ion, are the two great powers that must eventually carry the 
 human race to the millennium. 
 
 The Jews are the most distinguished of the nations of 
 antiquity, who established divine laws. The civil law origi- 
 nated with the Greeks and Romans, the gods they worshipped 
 were a superstitious representation of the human passions, and 
 their laws originated from the customs of the people, and 
 were at first denominated civil laws, to distinguish them from 
 the laws of other nations. Later — the term civil law was 
 used to distinguish the customs and laws of the State, from 
 the canon laws or laws of the church. 
 
 The laws called the laws of Solon and of Lycurgus, and 
 other ancient statesmen, did not originate with these men; 
 they only organized a code of laws founded upon the customs 
 of the people, and suitable to the times in which they lived. 
 
 During the rise of the Roman Empire, subjugated pro- 
 vinces, while they were compelled to pay tribute to Rome, 
 were still permitted to live according to their own customs, 
 and be judged by their own laws. 
 
 After the fall of the Roman Empire, new German States 
 were founded in the west, in which the immigrated Germans 
 and conquered Romans lived together under the same govern- 
 ment. The Germans had separate laws and customs of their 
 own preserved in their new settlements, while the subdued 
 Romans, living among them, continued to use their own 
 laws and customs, and were judged according to them. 
 
 Hence we see the manners and customs of the people 
 that are to be governed, lay the foundation of their laws. 
 We should therefore adopt new manners and customs with 
 great caution, while upon the other hand, old manners and 
 customs that are deleterious to the well being of society, 
 should be set aside with firmness, for as certain as the man- 
 ners and customs of the dead generations have ripened into 
 the laws of the living, the manners and Customs of the living 
 
100 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 will ripen into the laws or the coming generations of men. 
 
 The common law, as recognized to-day, orignated from 
 the manners and customs of the English people, and was at 
 first designated the unwritten law, but we must not under- 
 stand from this that the statute, or written law, did not origi- 
 nate in the same way, for we know that the unwritten law 
 has ever laid the foundation of statute law in all countries. 
 
 Our laws, like our language, are gradually changing. So 
 many new words have been engrafted on the English lan- 
 guage, that an Englishman resurrected from the grave, where 
 he has slept for eight hundred years, would not understand 
 our language, or live happily under our laws. Our language 
 is progressive, and so are our laws. Social and political cus- 
 toms are the blossoms of the coming law. Societies are set- 
 ting aside customs which are still legal, but with the increase 
 of numbers in society, those customs will be set aside . 
 
 The germ of a law, like a mustard seed starts from a 
 point, and our laws to-day are half a century behind the 
 limes. 
 
 Resurrect George Washington from the grave and let 
 him witness the flight across the continent upon the/; -on horse; 
 let him near the announcement of the election in New Or- 
 leans made in Washington City in twenty minutes after it is 
 speken by the judges, and he would think he had slept a 
 thousand years ; let him go to Mount Vernon and bring suit 
 for possession. 
 
 Adverse claims and the iaw delays, 
 Would sound to him like former days. 
 
 1 have said that the origin of the law is the customs of 
 the people, and great statesmen only organize the will of the 
 people they represent. 
 
 By this declaration it is not my design to tarnish a feather 
 fco the cap of any great man, for it is genius of the highest 
 
PEN PICTURES. 101 
 
 order that can fathom the bosoms of the people, that can feel 
 with the wronged and observe the motives of the wrong- 
 doer and apply the proper remedy. While the lamps of all 
 past ages cast a flood of light upon the present they must re- 
 veal wrong as well as right. 
 
 To say that our laws have approached perfection, would 
 affirm the arrival of the millennium. 
 
 The struggle of a principle in law, like the struggle of a 
 word in a language, must depend upon its own strength. 
 
 The liberty of a people to make their laws is bounded by 
 the line of the state; the term United States conveys the idea 
 that a number of differentiates have united for a certain pur- 
 pose. To suppose they had united for all purposes of gov- 
 ernment and law would abolish the state lines and leave but 
 one state. 
 
 One state and a centralized government would be the 
 inevitable fate of our country. The government has of late 
 been to some extent revolutionized on this subject, but there 
 are yet many questions that lie along the border line between 
 state and federal authorities that have yet to be discussed and 
 settled 
 
 Any law, local in its effects and republican in its form, 
 and not in conflict with the Constitution of the United States, 
 is a part and parcel of the liberties of the state. 
 
 You may rob me of my goods; you may rob me of my 
 party name; but oh! God, save me from the dark dema- 
 gogue who would unjustly rob me of my liberty. 
 
 The future greatness of our country depends upon the 
 ability with which we defend the rights transmitted to us by 
 our fathers. 
 
 When the waves of empire shall beat upon the rock of 
 state rights, may some gallant son of a noble sire arise and 
 proclaim thus far you may go but no farther. 
 
 In the states, like the provinces of the Great Empire 
 
102 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 let us live under our own laws while we pay tribute to Rome. 
 
 The freedom of the Union depends upon the freedom of 
 the states ; like the character of a family depends upon the 
 character of its individual members. 
 
 The future of our country is astounding. Revolving 
 time will give us two hundred millions of people. The 
 great problem of self-government has yet to be put to the 
 test. With the accumulation of strength we accumulate the 
 difficulties of the problem of government. Education, virtue 
 and manhood must be increased with increasing power. 
 Mental improvement can and ought to be offered to all class- 
 es of our people. Honest political economy in place of 
 political deception should be ever held up to the view of the 
 rising generation. 
 
 With a soil unsurpassed on the globe ; throughout a broad 
 and beautiful land ; with a genius unparalleled in the history 
 of nations ; with a people brave, active and generous the fu- 
 ture can only grow dark under the mantle of an unwise gov- 
 ernment. The public mind, like the mind of an individual, 
 is subject to violent commotions, but in the moments of calm 
 reflection it is more apt to appeal to reason and establish law 
 and justice. The Romans divided the law into what they 
 called public and private law ; the latter applied to individu- 
 als, the former to the state. The law between man and man 
 or what is properly individual, is more lasting and permanent 
 and is seldom overthrown by revolutions in the government. 
 
 William, the conqueror, overran and revolutionized the 
 government of England, but the Saxon inhabitants clung to 
 their birth-right memories and the laws of Alfred the Great, 
 and although an effort was made to change the language as 
 well as the laws, it could not be effected, and while the 
 blending of the Norman and Saxon tongues gave up the Eng- 
 lish language, fair-minded men to-day love the plain Saxon 
 words. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 103 
 
 Public law, or the administration of the government, is 
 the great end and aim of all revolutions, and no revolution 
 of a government in any age or country was ever accomplished 
 without a political parly. Revolutions are necessary ; they 
 must and will come in the order of progress; they mark, and 
 will continue to mark, the onward march of our civilization. 
 
 But when I speak of the baneful influences of political 
 parties, my tongue grows silently short. It would take a 
 master of the fine arts, and require the genius of all the 
 leading languages to guide the pen of an author, or the elo- 
 quence of an orator to draw even a faint outline of the unpar- 
 alleled history of party crime. 
 
 No government can exist without a party, and while I 
 recognize party and principle as the two great elements in 
 political economy, I hope, and honestly trust, never to for- 
 sake principle for the sake of party. 
 
 Since the days of Grecian fables great ideas have been 
 communicated by homely illustrations. The fable of the 
 "Fawn and Leopard" may not be out of place here. 
 
 Near by the handsome hills of a western State, with 
 towering tree-tops and foliage green, in wild seclusion from 
 the haunts of men there lived a seal fat fawn. By morning's 
 dream aroused from sleep and hungry for the new-grown 
 grass, with nimble foot and fairy tread started out to nip the 
 buds and breathe the morning air. Behind she left her doating 
 dam. and wandered far away across the pleasing plain spread 
 with carpet green and fringed with wild and wasting bloom. 
 She brushed the dew from the growing grass and nipped the 
 tender buds. Amid the stillness of the scene no sound was 
 heard and she saw no fraid. 
 
 Hard by the hazel brush a leopard sat, with eager eyes 
 and ivory teeth, half concealed, with hunger in his breast 
 and murder in his eye ; still as inaudible time to watch the 
 coming fawn. 
 
104 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 The scent of blood on the morning air rushed through 
 his head and formed his feet to spring, his leap fell short, 
 and then the frightened fawn flew with her life across the 
 open field. 
 
 At first she ran too fast for him, 'twas down a long 
 descent ; but rising up the sloping hill, her wind grew short 
 and faint, for want of breath, her speed lost half its force. 
 
 With iron heel and eager eyes the bloody beast approach- 
 ed. Thus, far away from hope or help, the fleet-footed 
 fawn found her fate. 
 
 The fawn fitly represents principle, pure as the dew 
 from heaven; whiie the leopard represents party always fond 
 of blood. 
 
 As we enjoy our individual freedom by the union of 
 liberty and law, we also enjoy our public freedom by the 
 union of principle and party. 
 
 No government can exist without a party, but it must 
 be properly blended with principle. Politicians say we must 
 stand by our party, and they should add, we must also stand 
 by our principles. 
 
 The United States government will eventually stereotype 
 the ancient government of Imperial or Papal Rome. Im- 
 perial Rome, or the government of Rome under the Emper- 
 ors, when they conquered a neighboring nation, perm.tted 
 them to live according to their own customs, and to be judged 
 by their own laws; while they were required to pay tribute 
 to Rome for protection, and the Roman legions were ever 
 ready to defend the provinces of the Empire. 
 
 Assembled under the banner of the Royal Purple, the 
 Roman eagle was the mistress of the world. 
 
 Papal Rome, or the government of Rome under the 
 Popes, reversed the rule when a province or State entered 
 upon the warpath. Rome was for sale. The State willing 
 to surrender most of her local liberties could purchase Rome. 
 
PEN PICTURES. xu " 
 
 The fountain of power to increase the strength of party and 
 subdue principle. Pot-house politicians are the men who 
 would imitate Papal Rome, men who work for their party 
 regardless of principle, men who seek the government money 
 without rendering some service to the government, act upon 
 the same theory of the gambler and the rogue, and ought to 
 be classed with pot-house politicians. In this connection I 
 remember the words of John C. Calhoun, the great political 
 scholar of his day. Speaking of party, he said : " It is held 
 together by the cohesive power of the public plunder." 
 \nd the words of the more witty John Randolph, of Ro- 
 anoke, upon the same subject: - It has seven principles, 
 five loaves and two fishes." 
 
 In conclusion I speak to young men who have yet to 
 come upon the stage of statesmanship ; who have yet to 
 learn the great principles of liberty and law ; who have yet 
 to stand in the council-house of this great nation ; who have 
 yet to defend the liberties of a great people ; who have yet 
 to mold the destiny of a great government. May you prove 
 worthy of the task. 
 
LECTURE II— TIME AND MOTION. 
 
 The back woodsman enters the forest with his ax upon 
 his shoulder, gives the first impression made with human 
 foot to the virgin soil ; builds a log cabin ; discovers the 
 course that the waters run ; gives fright to the wolf and the 
 wild-cat, and proclaims the dominion of man. He then 
 sinks into his grave, with no greater honor inscribed upon 
 his banner than that of the brave pioneer. 
 
 Those who come after him erect the church and the 
 school-house ; open the roads ; cultivate the ground ; build 
 towns and cities, and throw their banner to the breeze in- 
 scribed with ''The Land of the Free and Home of the 
 Brave." 
 
 Like the back-woodsman, with nature's ax on my should- 
 er,, I venture upon untrodden ground, on the broad domain 
 of mental philosophy ; here I build my cabin ; here I point 
 out the course the waters of nature run ; alarm the wolves 
 and the wild-cats of the social circle, and open a new field 
 in mental philosophy to those who come after me. All that 
 I ask or expect is the honor due to a brave pioneer. 
 
 Time, thou venerable Sire and mysterious harvest hand, 
 v/ho gave you that old scythe that never needs the whetting 
 stone, yet will not cut the thread of fate, or wound the gods. 
 Is that thine only tool? thou builder of towns and cities, 
 founder of governments and nations, and father of the arts 
 and sciences. No mortal eye hath seen thy cradle ; none 
 shall see thy grave. 
 
PEN PICTURES 107 
 
 Solomon said: "There is a time to be merry and a 
 time to be sad; a time to weep and a time to be glad." 
 Another wise man said: "Time makes all things even;" 
 but no philosopher has ever told us what ti?ne is. What is 
 time? Time is not a thing. This book is a thing; but time 
 is not a thing, or, in other words, time is not a cause. Time 
 is effect, or, rather, the result of motion. We assume the 
 position that time is not eternity, or any part of it, a propo- 
 sition that is not disputed, so far as I know, by any one. We 
 have been taught that time is a part of duration. This is a 
 mistake. Duration is a period of time that belongs to the 
 past, and not to the future. It applies to past ages of the 
 world, and cannot properly be applied to ages to come ; but 
 let us establish the proposition that time is the result of mo- 
 tion. The earth has two motions denominated — the annual 
 and diurnal. The earth revolves around the sun in its orbit 
 once in three hundred and sixty-five days, and upon its axis, 
 once in twenty-four hours. Daylight and darkness were the 
 first divisions of time known to primitive man. There is as 
 much night as there is day, eternally, on the earth ; but, to 
 any stationary point on the surface of the earth, day and 
 night approaches with the rising and setting of the sun, or, 
 in other words, day and night are the result of the motion of 
 the earth in its diurnal revolutions, and for many ages was 
 the only division of time known to antiquity. The first 
 effort made by man to extend the division of time was the 
 invention of an instrument called the sun-dial. 
 
 The first mention in the Scriptures of any instrument for 
 keeping time is in the second book of Kings, Chap. 20, verse 
 11, and alludes to the dial of Ahaz, who lived and reigned at 
 Jerusalem about 300 years after Solomon completed the tem- 
 ple, and about 900 years after Joshua led the Israelites over 
 the river Jordan, about 3,400 years after Adam, the first man, 
 according to Jewish antiquity. 
 
108 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Thus we see, the human race had approached the 
 middle of the historic period before any instrument was 
 invented for keeping time, or rather we should say, for 
 measuring motion. 
 
 The first mention in the Scriptures made of the hour is 
 by the prophet, Daniel, in; 6, Daniel, when a boy, 
 was carried off from his native land in the Babylonian cap- 
 tivity. His book was written in Babylon, and relates to 
 circumstances that occurred in that country. Hence we 
 infer that the Jews obtained much of their knowledge of the 
 sun-dial, from the Babylonians, for we are informed by 
 Greek historians that they were the first who divided the 
 day into twelve equal parts. 
 
 The face of the sun-dial does not differ materially from 
 the face of the clock of the present day. While the hand of 
 the clock is but an artificial shadow to point out the time or 
 rather to indicate the progress of the Earth in its revolution 
 upon its axis, the motion of the clock must correspond pre- 
 cisely with the motion of the Earth or the clock will not 
 keep correct time. 
 
 Clocks to run with cog-wheels were first invented in 
 France in the year 996. Clocks to run with a pendulum 
 were not invented until 1630; and there is not a dictionary 
 or lexicon that has ever been published in the world that gives 
 a true definition of the word time. 
 
 Stand with your face toward the east at twilight and 
 observe the heavenly harnessed team of day peep over the 
 eastern hills at you, then start like a sky-rocket through the 
 atmosphere west, at the rate of one thousand miles an hour, 
 and you will see the glorious god of day peeping over the 
 eastern hills at you forever. 
 
 Now suppose, for the sake of the argument, that you 
 have a good watch in your pocket, a true time-piece, as we 
 say, and that you could elevate yourself just above the high- 
 
PEN PICTURES. 109 
 
 •est peak of the mountain top and remain still — the sun is still 
 and you are s'ill—your watch is right and the sun is right. 
 
 The surface of the earth would pass you at the rate of 
 •one thousand miles an hour. If you were elevated at-sunrise 
 the sun would be rising all the time ; if at noon it would be 
 noon all the time : if at sunset it would be sunset all the tim- 
 — so far as your observation would be concerned. 
 
 Now let us suppose that you left a white flag on the Earth 
 where you were elevated., and that you were elevated at 6 o'clock, 
 when the flag comes around again you look at your watch 
 and it indicates six o'clock. The flag would be your only 
 evidence that your watch was right, and was measuring motion. 
 We call the result of that measure time. 
 
 To realize day and night we must be confined to a local 
 spot on the surface of the Earth. The light of day bursts 
 upon the people of New York before it arouses the sleepers 
 of California, and the shades of night gather 'round the 
 people of New York before the sun sinks in the Pacific to 
 the eyes of California. 
 
 But why should I continue on this part of the subject? 
 Learned and wise men everywhere agree that motion meas- 
 ures time, for there is no evading the atdenee; it is a propo- 
 sition that proves itself. But they say that motion does not 
 produce time. I confess that motion does not produce eternity 
 .but contend that it does produce time. 
 
 Here then is the tug of war. 
 
 We find ourselves a lonely traveler in a strange land, 
 weary, tired and hungry. Yonder is a cottage, let us apply 
 for food and rest. We stand before the gate and inform the 
 monarch of the premises that we are tired and hungry. He 
 orders a sheep driven out of his lot, and pointing at it with 
 his index finger says, if you don't eat that sheep, head and 
 horns, you are not hungry. 
 
 More than forty years ago, after having been raised in a 
 
110 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 corn field, I came upon the stage of action, with a diploma 
 Irom a log school house in the backwoods of Kentucky, hungry 
 and thirsty for information, and with the elastic palate of a 
 hopeful student swallowed everything — head and horns. 
 
 To get rid of the horns, I emancipated myself from the 
 tyranny of the schools, and appealed to the original copy — 
 which is nature. 
 
 Now it is a self-evident proposition that motion cannot 
 accomplish anything without the direction of intellect. 
 
 Then motion does not measure time but intellect measures 
 motion, and we call the result of that measure time. 
 
 Measuring time reminds me of the report made by a man 
 who attempted to ?neasure the imagination. He said: "It is 
 as large as the globe and smaller than a mustard seed — it fills 
 the whole universe and you can get it in a thimble — it exists 
 throughout all space and has no existence — it will make you as 
 rich as a bond-holder — with it you can fill all your fields with 
 cattle, and make a two-year old colt in a minute." 
 
 Measure time; a moment, half a moment, here, fleeting, 
 gone forever. What is time before it is measured ? or what 
 is time measured out of? You can measure a piece of cloth 
 because that is a thing; you can measure a large pile of 
 wheat with a small cup, but you will measure the wheat all 
 up. So likewise, if time was measured out of duration, dura, 
 tion would all be measured up; and if out of eternity, 
 eternity would all be measured up. To say time is measured 
 out of time is absurd and ridiculous nonsense. Motion no 
 more measures time than the waves on the sea measure the 
 water ; the wave is the result of the wind, when the wind 
 lulls and becomes still the ocean becomes calm — the wave 
 has sunk. Time is the result of the motion of the earth; 
 when the earth becomes still (if it ever does) the wave of our 
 time will be lost and sink in the ocean of eternity. Hence we 
 
"PEN PICTURES. Ill 
 
 see the force that was in the language of the English poet 
 when he said — 
 
 The bless'd to-day, is as completely so, 
 As who began a thousand years ago." 
 
 A year of time is determined by the motion of a planet 
 around the sun in its orbit, consequently every planet has a 
 different year of //me, and just in proportion as they differ in 
 their speed of motion and distance from the sun. The exact 
 time of the earth's motion around the sun in its orbit was not 
 ascertained for many ages. In the morning of the historic 
 period, when every man was his own astronomer, the rising 
 and setting of the dog star, as it was called, was observed 
 with no ordinary interest. The ancient Thebans, who first 
 cultivated astronomy in Egypt, determined the length of the 
 year by the number of its risings. The Egyptians watched 
 it with mingled apprehensions of hope and fear; it foretold 
 the rising of the river Nile and admonished them to sow their 
 fields. Julius Caesar came very near regulating the calendar, 
 but the astronomers in his day, in their observations of the 
 earth in its orbit, made an error of eight minutes and forty- 
 eight seconds, and it was found in 1582 that in the run of 
 1648 years the true time was ten days ahead of the recorded 
 time, and in order to reach the true time without disturbing 
 the records of all Christendom, the Pope of Rome issued a 
 proclamation, or bull, calling the 5th day of October the 15th. 
 And this is the origin of old and new style of time. You 
 have all heard of old Christmas, when the cows kneel at mid- 
 night, the chickens crow, and the dogs bark. The new 
 style of time was not adopted in England until 1752 — one 
 hundred and seventy years after the correction — in the reign 
 of George II. 
 
 The revolution of the earth around the sun in its orbit 
 determines a year of time and always did, though it required 
 
112 
 
 PEN PICTURES 
 
 many ages to ascertain that fact. While the earth passes 
 around the sun in its orbit once, it revolves upon its axis 366 
 times and only produces 365 days. And this brings us to 
 consider solar and siderial time or solar and siderial motion. 
 
 We can best represent it by the hands of a clock. You 
 must remember that the motion of the earth in its orbit and 
 upon its axis are both in the same direction. The earth rises 
 up from the west, so to speak, and turns to the east in its 
 diurnal revolutions, causing the approach of day and night 
 to every local spot upon its surface. The motion of the earth 
 in its orbit is also from west to east, rising up, so to speak, 
 ninety-five millions of miles above the sun, and sinking the 
 same distance below the sun. 
 
 The orbit of the earth is perpendicular, and not horizon- 
 tal, as up and down, appear to our senses. Now let us call 
 the motion or speed of the hour hand the earth's orbit, and 
 the motion of the minute hand the earth's axis. We now 
 place both hands at twelve o'clock, and say that it is noon 
 or the sun is on the meridian. When the minute hand 
 passes round and comes again to the figure 12, the earth has 
 accomplished one revolution upon its axis; but the earth has 
 also moved one degree in the same direction, as represented 
 by the hour hand, consequently the earth must move one 
 degree further to overtake the hour hand and bring the sun 
 on the meridian again. This distance is divided into 365 
 degrees. One is lost every day, consequently in 366 revolu- 
 tions of the earth upon its axis we realize only 365 days, and 
 this is solar and siderial time, or solar and siderial motion. 
 
 There is another illustration of this problem. Let three 
 men agree that one shall start around the earth, traveling 
 east, and that one shall make the same journey, traveling 
 west, and the third shall remain at the place of starting. Each 
 man shall keep a correct tally of every day that transpires in 
 a year, by cutting a notch on a stick. At the end of the 
 
PEN PICTURES. H3 
 
 year the two travelers return, having traversed the globe, and 
 compare notes. The one who remained stationary will have 
 365 notches ; the one who traveled east will have 364 notches; 
 the one who traveled west will have 366 notches. Now, 
 if these men were measuring or keeping time, they would 
 agree. The fact is, they have measured motion and have not 
 measured time. One traveled with the motion of the earth, 
 and maintained solar time ; the other traveied against the 
 motion of the earth, and gained one day. 
 
 A month or a week is an artificial division of time, 
 adopted for convenience. Seven days have been called a 
 week from the remotest antiquity of the Jews. Prior to the 
 reign of Numa Pompilius, the second King of Rome, the year 
 was divided into ten months, or thirteen moons. 
 
 The motion of the earth produces the time of the earth, 
 or what we recognize as our time ; for every planet has its 
 own motion,- and consequently its own time. 
 
 When the earth ceases to move (if it ever does), our 
 time will also cease; but the time on the other planets will 
 not cease, if they continue in their motion. We can compare. 
 their motions with the motions of the eaith, and note the 
 difference in their time and our time. 
 
 If the earth was bursted to make moons for some other 
 planet, we have no evidence that the motion of the other 
 planets would be changed or altered, and as long as they 
 maintain their motion they will maintain their time. 
 
 The planet Venus revolves upon her axis once in 23 
 hours, 21 minutes, and 7 seconds, consequently her day is 
 about twenty-five minutes shorter than ours. She passes 
 around the sun in her orbit in seven and a half months of our 
 time. While the earth measures two years, Venus deals out 
 three years and forty-five days to her inhabitants. 
 
 The planet Mars is the bright star that we saw in the 
 east in September and October, a little after sunset. He 
 
 8 
 
114 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 revolves upon his axis in 24 hours, 37 minutes, and 23 sec- 
 onds, consequently his day is about forty-two minutes longer 
 than ours. He passes around the sun in his orbit in twenty- 
 two and a half months of our time, consequently it takes 
 nearly two of our years to make one for the planet Mars. 
 
 Those two planets are next to the earth — Venus on the 
 inside and Mars on the outside track. 
 
 But let us go 'way yonder near the edge of the solar sys- 
 tem, and observe the planet Jupiter He revolves upon his 
 axis in 9 hours, 55 minutes, and 50 seconds, consequently he 
 crowds two of his days into one of ours, and has about four 
 hours left. He stands boldly out from the sun a distance of 
 495 millions of miles — 400 millions of miles further from the 
 sun than the earth is — and he moves around the sun in his 
 orbit in a little less than twelve of our years, consequently 
 while a boy of his inhabitance is arriving at twelve years of 
 age, one of our boys would become a venerable sire of one 
 hundred and forty-four years. 
 
 Now let us visit all of the planets we have named, and 
 take the watch with us. When we arrive on the velvet shores 
 of Venus we will move the regulator of the watch — the spring 
 that regulates the motion of the watch — so it will run twenty- 
 five minutes fast in a day, and when we meet the Monarch of 
 that planet we can tell him the time of day — because our 
 watch is brought precisely to the motion of his planet, or 
 
 world. 
 
 "When we arrive on the bloody shores of the planet Mars 
 we will deaden the main spring of the watch, so it will run 
 forty-two minutes slow in a day, and we will have the time 
 or measure of the motion of that planet. 
 
 But when we arrive on the distant shores of Jupiter 
 what can we do with the watch ? We will have to double 
 the power of the main spring of our watch to keep the time 
 or measure the motion of that planet — because he revolves on 
 
PEN PICTURES. 115 
 
 his axis twice while the earth revolves once, and has about four 
 
 hours left. 
 
 Does not fhese illustrations make it clear that clocks and 
 
 watches measure motion ? 
 
 What, then, is time ? The result of motion; or, in other 
 words, motion produces time, but does not produce eternity. 
 
 What then is duration ? As I said before, duration is a 
 period of time that belongs to the past. Mark what I say— 
 for all of the wise men of the past, from Numa Pompilius to 
 the Pope of Rome — all learned authorities, both sacred and 
 profane — have said that time is a part of duration. They put 
 the cart before the horse — duration is a part of time, and 
 belongs to the past. It is a law of nature that effect cannot 
 precede cause ; no man can build a house before he prepares 
 the materials. Duration is the sum of motion, and cannot 
 exist before that motion is performed. Rome was founded 
 750 years before the Christian era; that is, the earth accom- 
 plished 750 revolutions around the sun in its orbit from the 
 founding of Rome until the inauguration of Christianity. That 
 750 years is a period of time, or a part of time, that we call 
 duration, and belongs to the past. 1100 years transpired — 
 that is, the earth made 11 00 revolutions around the sun in its 
 orbit from the time Solomon built the temple at Jerusalem 
 until the birth of Christ. And, according to the most ap- 
 proved system of archaeology, 5440 years transpired — that is, 
 the earth made 5440 revolutions around the sun, from the 
 creation by Moses until the meek and lowly Jesus preached 
 His Gospel on the mount in Palestine 
 
 All of those are periods of duration recorded on the page 
 of history. But if you wish a more extended idea of dura- 
 tion, go back with me behind the historic period — go back a 
 hundred thousand years — go back a hundred thousand cen- 
 turies — go back a hundred million of centuries— go back un- 
 til the mind turns upon itself, and there is an idea not yet 
 
116 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 expressed — eternity. Turn the imagination loose, and go for- 
 ward, but remember, duration does not express the idea, an- 
 ticipation is before, duration is behind — time has disappeared. 
 
 Observe the intellect, solitary and alone, in the broad 
 field of space. Space, Dy affinity, is eternity — an open field 
 without end — a fit home, for eternity can not dwell in a 
 local spot. Time and motion belong to the planets. The 
 planets belong to space. The forecast of intellect, may re- 
 alize eternity — and here we pause, on the distant border of 
 human thought, for we come not here again until the close of 
 our last lecture. Getting down upon the ground-work of 
 nature and her laws, I come to speak of Motion. 
 
 Motion, is a principle. I hold my hand here, and move 
 it there. My hand is a thing, but the change of its position 
 is a principle — motion — and it is the first principle of nature. 
 The whole universe is in motion. The sun is still to his 
 planets, but the sun, together with his planets, are moving 
 through the broad field of space around an unknown center. 
 The flowers ot the field, the majestic oak, the vegetable, and 
 all of the animal kingdom, could not be developed without 
 the principle of motion. Our broad and beautiful fields that 
 wave with golden heads on the days of harvest — our towns, 
 villages and cities, and the iron horse that consolidates them 
 into one^city — together with all the works of nature and of 
 art. The broad and placid river, that bears the products of 
 our labor on its bosom, as it rolls on in its majesty to the 
 ocean, and the river itself, is the result of the principle of 
 motion. 
 
 Water^ in small and minute particles, traverses the at- 
 mosphere, condensing, it falls to the ground in drops of rain, 
 and fills up the rivulets, that wind their wandering way across 
 the valleys, and fill up the rivers, and the rivers traversing 
 a continent, return to the ocean. Not only on this conti- 
 nent, but aiso the continents of Europe, Africa and Asia — 
 
PEN PICTURES. 
 
 117 
 
 not only on the continents of earth, but on all the planets 
 that belong to the solar system, and all of these streams of 
 water are produced by the heat of the sun, but the heat of 
 sun does not produce the water So, likewise, the fleeting 
 moments of time, fill up the minutes, the minutes fill up the 
 hours, the hours fill up the days, the days fill up the years, 
 the years fill up the centuries, and the centuries roil on in 
 their majesty, to the ages, not only upon earth, but on all 
 the planets that belong to the solar system. And all of these 
 streams of time are produced by motion. But motion does 
 not produce the universe. By the term universe, we do not 
 allude alone to the solar system, but to the broad expanse of 
 the unfolded heavens. The ancients had a very obscure 
 idea of the heavens. The telescope was invented in 1588, 
 and improved by Galileo, who was compelled by a supersti- 
 tious court, on the 28th day of June, 1633, at the peril of 
 his life, to deny with his lips the great facts that science and 
 nature had unfolded to his truthful heart. 
 
 Go with me to the telescope, on a clear night, when the 
 pulse of all pre-conceived ideas is still; observe the one hun- 
 dred million of fixed stars— they are called fixed because they 
 are so remote from the earth, that the orbit of the earth, one 
 hundred and ninety millions of miles, produces no percepti- 
 ble change in their locality. They are supposed to be suns 
 as large as ours, with planets revolving 'round them. And 
 on those planets are rivers as long as the Missouri, and broad 
 as the Amazon, and mountains and valleys, filled with life 
 and motion. Go on in the imagination beyond the utmost 
 limits of telescopic vision, and wje are lost in wonder. Every 
 spark of light is a world. God is everywhere. When 
 this glorious revelation is unfolded to our view, we are less 
 concerned with the philosophy of creation, than we are in 
 asking ourselves the question : Will man sieep in the grave 
 for ever? This question will be more fully answered at the 
 
118 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 close of our lectures, but for the satisfaction of the impa- 
 tient, we answer, no. It is contrary to all nature, and to 
 everything that we see made manifest around us, to suppose 
 that the mind perishes like the body. Nature is always true 
 to herself. An organ of the human brain, has painted a 
 great castle, in which there is every delight to entertain, 
 amuse and instruct the intellect, where there is no pain, no 
 sorrow and no weeping ; where the aisles and the walks stretch 
 a-w-a-y y-o-nd-e-r beyond the remotest conception of the 
 human brain; where pleasure flows in upon the travelers 
 from innumerable avenues on every foot of the way ; where 
 departed friends who have been made dear to the heart by 
 the warmest ties of affection, are met again. But the castle 
 is elevated, and we have no ladder to reach it. Oh ! wretched 
 man that I am, who shall deliver me from this dead body? 
 
 We shall, in the course of these lectures, endeavor to 
 unfold the beautiful principles of nature. But for the pres- 
 ent we must return to the philosophy of motion. We have 
 spoken of the motion of the universe, we must now speak of 
 motion with regard to man. The field is broad and full of 
 beautiful illustrations. We only call your attention to one. 
 It is one that reflects many others. I take hold of anything 
 with my right hand and throw it 'round with more ease than 
 I do with my left hand, and why? Because the principle of 
 motion has been more thoroughly applied to my right, than 
 it has to my left hand. And this principle holds good 
 throughout all nature. 
 
 Take two little boys, of equal endowment and physical 
 strength. (Your arms are equal in infancy.) Educate one 
 of them, as you educate the right hand, and educate the 
 other, as you educate the left hand. When they arrive to 
 manhood there will be the same difference between them, 
 that there is between the right and the left hand, and fiom 
 
PEN PICTURES 119 
 
 the same cause, and this principle holds good mentally as weli 
 as physically. 
 
 The first and great principle of nature, is motion, action, 
 industry. There is no greatness attainable in any calling 
 without it, either physically or mentally. Great men in all 
 ages, and among all nations, have worked their way up from 
 the bottom. Like a seed cast upon the earth, to rise up and 
 unfold the branches, the blossoms, and the fruit, whose ten- 
 der buds are first directed by the delicate hand of a faithful 
 mother. 
 
 Henry Clay, the great American statesman, was once a 
 mill boy, and rode an old blind horse through the swamps of 
 his native State, on a bag of meal. The gentle breeze that 
 rustled through the infant locks, clustering beneath a home- 
 made cap, may have whispered in a still small voice the liv- 
 ing principle of motion. Without fame and without fortune, 
 but with industry and integrity, he winged a golden way from 
 the swamps of his native State, to the mountain-top of fame 
 in the United States. 
 
 If there be in this assembly, any little boy upon whom 
 fortune has frowned, I mean as to money; to him I say, go to 
 work mentally, preserve the body and the brain from all de- 
 moralizing influences, ponder over the experience of past 
 ages by the midnight lamp, and as certain as the sun rises in 
 the future you will meet your reward. 
 
 If you have no mother, and those to whom you are 
 amenable are neglecting your character, go to work, and 
 build up your own character, lay the foundation stones deep 
 in the ground, run the walls up plumb and true, let every part 
 of the edifice meet the eye of the beholder in harmony, and 
 you will become a great man. 
 
 Julius Caesar has been dead 1922 years, imperishable 
 fame is stamped on his name, with no counseler but ambition, 
 and no friend but his sword, he crossed the Rubicon and laid 
 
120 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 the foundation of the Roman Empire If you have no de- 
 sire to become Caesar, and wish to make a dog of yourself, 
 go sleep in the barn, lay 'round the premises, and scratch 
 fleas, feed on the crumbs thrown out at the door, and the first 
 thing you know, you will begin to bark. 
 
 One more word to doubtful men, and I conclude. If 
 there be in this assembly any one who feels aggrieved at this 
 discourse, because it contains more philosophy than it does 
 religion, to them I say, the bones of my ancestors for six 
 generations, sleep beneath the green sod in the church-yards 
 of my native land. They filled their cups from the measure 
 of faith offered up in their day. It would not become a brave 
 manhood, to throw a spot of tarnish on their memory, or 
 leave their tombs for the home of the bat and the owl. ror 
 all that I am, and all that 1 hope to be, in this life, or in the 
 life to come, is justly due to early impressions, made upon a 
 youthful brain by a christian mother. 
 
LECTURE III.— MIND AND ORGANISM. 
 
 Nothing that is not solid, true and refined— dare ask public 
 audience of mankind. 
 
 Mental philosophy has engaged the attention of the wise 
 men of the world, in all ages, and among all nations. Zoroas- 
 ter among the Persians, Plato among the Greeks, and St. 
 Paul among the jews, left impressions behind them on the 
 subject of merited philosophy, that will last as long as the brain 
 will think, or stamp a thought in marble transmitted to poster- 
 ity. When we look back upon primitive man, we see him 
 destitute of the arts and sciences, rude, and barbarous to his 
 own species. And when we observe the centuries rolling on, 
 turning up at each revolution some new discovery and unfold- 
 ing principles that contribute to the comfort of man, physi- 
 cally and mentally, the question naturally presents itself to us, 
 Why do men become wiser ? What is it, that illuminates the 
 path-way of every art and of every science ? What is the 
 motive power impelling the onward march of our civilization ? 
 Who has ever unfolded the dominion of mind over matter? 
 
 That mind or intellect is in the universe, no one will dis- 
 pute. But how produced, and how sustained, is the question. 
 We proceed upon the theory, that the brain is the &eat, of 
 head-quarters of the mind. Does the mind originate in the 
 brain, or is it external ? 
 
 I shall offer you some startling evidences that mind is ex- 
 ternal, a principle or element prevading the universe, and 
 
122 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 this is a new departure from the great cardinal principles laid 
 down by the old philosophers. 
 
 We live in a progressive age, while every art and every 
 science has advanced with wonderful rapidity, mental philos- 
 ophy has been left to slumber in the tomb of the dark ages. 
 But let us proceed with the evidence, sustaining the prop 
 osition, that mind is external. 
 
 The variegated colors of the rainbow, the view of the hea- 
 vens and of the earth, together with all the visible beauties of 
 nature, are introduced to the brain by external means, for the 
 eye is but the window of the brain ; and as the rays of the 
 light of the sun, reveal and display all of the visible beauties 
 of the universe, so also, the rays of the great star of intellect, 
 reveal and display all of the beauties of wisdom. 
 
 When we are in a dark room, we see dimly ; when we 
 come out to the light, we see plainly. . In our native igno. 
 ranee, we are mentally blind, whether it be the childhood of 
 a nation, or an individual ; when we are brought out to the 
 lio-ht of experience by the institutions of our predecessors, we 
 sec plainly many things that we did not see in our native ig- 
 norance. If you say that equal instruction should equally 
 enlighten all men, I answer, it would, if all men were en- 
 dowed with the same mental glass, but this is not the case, 
 for while some are endowed with a mental glass thin and 
 transparent, others are thick, cast in the dark, so dead and 
 opaque in themselves, that the concentrated rays of the great 
 star of intellect would not penetrate them in forty years.>Ttie 
 eyes, the ears, the nose, the tongue and the nerves of. the 
 body, are all external and visible organs of the brain,' 1 by' 
 which information is received. 
 
 No man can see with his ears or hear with his eyes, can" 
 love whom he hates or hate whom he loves, and when he is 
 mentally deaf to the notes of music, it is no evidence that 
 he is mentally deaf to the voice of love ; and every organ of 
 
PEN PICTURES. 
 
 123 
 
 ti i !>rain performs its office precisely in proportion to its 
 capacity. A man with good eyes sees well, with geod ears 
 hears well, and this brings us to consider upon the internal 
 and invisible organs of the brain. 
 
 The organ of music is more plainly and better developed 
 in somje races of men than it is in others, and in some indi- 
 viduals of the same race than in others. The organs of self- 
 esteem, combativeness, hope, the love of home, and many 
 others, are more fully developed in some individuals than in 
 others. All men do not see alike, pride alike, love alike, or 
 stay at home alike. In accordance with the organism of the 
 brain do they act. We conclude, therefore, that the brain 
 is a set of organs animated by a principle or element pervad- 
 ing the universe. 
 
 Let us make an effort to identify the internal with the 
 external organs of the brain. We will de so by asking a sup- 
 posed individual a few plain questions. Why did you not 
 see the procession that came to town this morning ? Because 
 my eyes have been put out. Why did you not hear the roll- 
 ing of the wheels and the tramp of the horses ? Because my 
 ears have failed; I am deaf. Why did you not smell that 
 remarkable odor that accompanied the train ? Because my 
 nose is stopped up; I have a dreadful cold. 
 
 Let us restore the external mental organs and continue 
 the questions. Why did you not imitate the beautiful music 
 that was in the procession? Because I cannot sing; I have 
 no ear for music. Why did you not draw a pencil picture of 
 the train? Because I have no mechanism, no talent for 
 drawing. Why did you not stand erect and show yourself 
 to the best advantage while the train was passing ? Because 
 I have no self-esteem. But, an objector says, that is phre- 
 nology, and no proof that mind is external. I answer — It 
 identifies mental organism. 
 
 We will now proceed with another class of evidences 
 
124 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 that makes it clear that mind is a living principle pervading 
 the universe. Observe that industrious mechanic. He is up 
 early and bright in the morning, full of hope and action, de- 
 termined to earn an honest living for himself and family. 
 His eyes behold all the beauties of nature, his ears note every 
 sound of his hammer, his genius or mechanism trace every 
 line of his pencil. His days work is over; he faithfully 
 returns to his domicile ; the last scene of the day closes upon 
 our observation. His garments arc laid aside; stretched 
 upon his couch he closes his eyes, shutting out the light of 
 the world; the busy bustle of the day is over and the pulse 
 of the town is still, all the nerves of his body have ceased 
 to vibrate ; the organs of his brain are all closed ; he is held 
 in the sweet embrace of nature's soft nurse ; the man is asleep; 
 his mind is gone ; intellect does not sleep ; it is organism ; 
 every organ in the brain closes up like the eye, and this is the 
 lethargy we call sleep — death's half brother. 
 
 When there is no concert of action or harmony with the 
 brain organs in closing up, when they are all closed, except 
 the organs of memory and fancy or imagination, we realize 
 what we call restless sleep, disturbed sleep, the sleep of 
 mesmerism, somnambulism, and all other kinds of sleep that 
 produce wonderful dreams to delight and afflict humanity. 
 
 Do not understand us to say that our brain organs are 
 all in action when we are awake, for this would be an error. 
 Few persons can laugh and cry at the same time. No man 
 can be in a good humor and angry at the same time. Asleep 
 or awake we do one thing at a time. Persons sometimes 
 walk ana handle things in theii sleep, but when the organ of 
 time is brought into action we are awake. 
 
 Now let us put the proposition that the mind is external 
 to another test. Let us take a man that you have all known 
 for many years to be an honest man and a good citizen. He 
 ha> met with a sad misfortune; lost his pocket-book; close 
 
PEN PICTURES. 
 
 125 
 
 the door and let us detect the thief. Hold! I made a mis- 
 take in regard to the article. He has lost his mind. Where 
 shall we go to look for it and how can we describe it ? Let 
 us take him to the lunatic asylum; the doctors will apply 
 soothing remedies to his brain, and if they succeed in restor- 
 ing a healthy action to his mental organs they will find his 
 mind. But where will they find it ? They will find it ready 
 to enter his brain as soon as good health to organism is 
 restored. They will find it where the sleeping man finds it 
 when he awakes; they will find that it is an element pervad- 
 ing the universe. 
 
 Our mental organs are subject to disease; we go blind, 
 deaf, or crazy. Sometimes the eye is affected, and we see 
 two objects where there is but one. When the eye is restored 
 we see nature as it is. Every organ in the brain may thus 
 be disturbed, until a man will not see nature in a natural way. 
 To him friends are enemies, love is hatred, reason is fiction, 
 and affection worthless ; he is crazy. Sometimes one of the 
 internal and invisible organs of the brain is afflicted and dis- 
 eased, while the others are not. We have a monomaniac. 
 
 There is a case recorded in history of a wealthy man 
 who was said to be crazy, The accusation was brought by 
 his brother, and it was supposed that the brother wished to 
 get possession of his property. The case was taken into 
 court; the learned attorneys questioned him for more than 
 an hour without getting the slightest evidence of insanity. 
 The judge and a crowded court room were almost ready to 
 declare the man sane, when some one whispered in the ear 
 of the plaintiff, "Ask him about religion." The moment 
 the question was put he rose to his feet and exclaimed, "/ 
 am the Christ!" He was insane on the subject of religion; 
 upon all other subjects perfectly rational. 
 
 A man may be blind, but while he is blind it is no evi- 
 dence that he is deaf. The open and visible organs of the 
 
126 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 brain are manifest to all men. The invisible mental organs 
 are only revealed by the deepest research. The case of the 
 monomaniac stands before you as one of my witnesses. 
 Cross-examine him, dissect his mind, otherwise, if you can. 
 
 Careful reflection upon the subject of mental philosophy 
 opens every mans eyes. The light of the sun will not illu. 
 minate the brain if you shut your eyes. And the light of the 
 great star of intellect will not illuminate the brain if you shut 
 the eyes of your mental organs, permit them to remain clos- 
 ed, or become diseased. When the eyes grow dim we put on 
 glasses, when self esteem is low we put on a new coat and 
 feel prouder, when we disagree in philosophy we should put 
 on the mantle of charity. 
 
 We will now call your attention to the last case in this 
 class of evidences. 
 
 The mind can be expelled from the brain by a chemical 
 operation, and therefore must be external. Let us take anoth- 
 er sensible man, whom we all know to be a sensible man in 
 every sense of the word manhood, give him a gill of whisky 
 and a chemical operation commences in his stomach, repeat 
 the dose and the chemicals begin to simmer, repeat again, 
 and again and they begin to boil; the man is drunk; not only 
 drunk, he is also a fool. His mind has been expelled from 
 his brain — steam occupies its place. Cool down the steam 
 with ice water and .buttermilk, get the man sober, and his 
 mind returns. Oh! God, is not that a noble principle hover- 
 ing 'round a wretched man ; while his body is wallowing in 
 the mud ; as soon as he can raise his head and wipe the mud 
 from his brow, deserted reason, insulted and abused, without 
 warrant or authority, kindly re-enters the brain. 
 
 If there be in this assembly any who feel aggrieved 
 at this description of a drunken man, totr-em I say, it is with 
 no feelings of animosity against the man, for the man has 
 
127 
 
 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 been driven out of the body, and it is the body that is drunk 
 
 3nd Snfytrs ago, before the days of the red ribbon, I 
 Uved in a southern village. In the dusk of the evening I saw 
 a man or rather the body of a man, fall upon the sidewalk. 
 wTth two other friends we approached that body ; we met he 
 steam of whisky; not dead but drunk We and £« 
 bodv into a back-room and laid it on a bed. The face inch 
 cated the Caucasian race, the costume respectability, nothing 
 "ore did that body reveal. There was - -*£££ 
 man there ; to us that body was a stranger. We all turned in 
 and slept through the night. Who do you suppose came early 
 next morning and claimed that body. Bill Jones, a man who 
 Hved" a distance, and whom we all knew b, 'reputation for 
 Bill was a public man. We preserved the body, God pre- 
 served the mind, and when the mind came back Bill Jones 
 
 Mme We not leave Bill Jones and return to the subject of all 
 subjects. The foundation stone and bed roek of all philosophy 
 
 " '"fdo not claim the ability to unfold all the beauties of in- 
 tellect I feel like a stranger in a woodland country, only 
 Sing a pathway that may be worked out into a highway by 
 some more learned and illustrious mind, who may this night, 
 couched in infant garb, be slumbering in some log cabin, 
 oTewhere in the broad domain of our beautiful land, or 
 way forward in th. future womb of time, to come upon the 
 stage of action when I have mingled with the worthless trash 
 of time, to forget and be forgotten. , 
 
 We live in a great country, our people are awakening 
 from a long night of ignorance. The modus operand, of 
 mental improvement is just beginning to emerge above the 
 SL horizon of our civilization. We who live to-day are 
 on y standing in the twilight of the great star of intellect, 
 
128 PEN PICTURES 
 
 that will illuminate like a noon-day sun all coming genera- 
 tions of men. 
 
 Sleep on, sweet babe — the gentle influences of mind will 
 gradually arouse thy torpid brain. The infant brain is like a 
 casket with blank pages, which is to be closely printed, and 
 positively stereotyped by eternal circumstances. 
 
 Let us go to that fond American mother and take her little 
 son, nine months old. We will not take the child ruthlessly 
 from the mother's arms, but let us take him for the sake of 
 the argument. Transport him across the water, place him in 
 a French family ; the French woman will be as kind to him as 
 his own mother; raise him up in all the beauties of manhood. 
 But he will speak the French language and not understand a 
 word of the language of his mother tongue. So, likewise if 
 you take the infant of a French lady and give it to an Amer- 
 ican woman, it will speak the English language. And if you 
 would take the infant of a Christian mother and give it to the 
 better-half of a cut-throat, far removed from good society, in 
 some dark retreat, struggling for existence by robbery and 
 theft, I care not how kind the adopted parents of that child 
 may be (in their way) when he grows up to manhood, he will 
 be a cut-throat and a robber. And if a Christian woman go 
 like guardian angel into this dark retreat, and tnke an infant 
 born to those people, transport it across the gulf, that will 
 separate it from its nativity, surround it with good society, 
 and raise it up in a Christian family, that boy will become a 
 good citizen and an honest man. 
 
 These are general rules, from which there is no appeal 
 except to the laws of hereditary descent, of which we intend 
 to speak. Would to God, that I could indelibly impress 
 these facts upon the brain of every mother in America. 
 
 Teach your children the bright lessons of temperance, 
 virtue, truth and honesty; stamp them on the infant brain, 
 and you will elevate the manhood of your country. Xo 
 
PEN PICTURES. 129 
 
 ^reat man ever had a common mother. God's blessing is 
 upon the mother of every bright little boy if she will heed 
 the voice of nature. Do not talk to your 2ttle son like he 
 was a puppy ; talk to him like you would to a man, and you 
 will cultivate his manhood to rise up ia a tower of strength, 
 and vindicate the memory of his mother. 
 
 And let me say to every mother in this assembly, if you 
 are oppressed by hard-favored-fortune, and see others around 
 you enjoying things you can not have, be not discouraged. 
 Remember that your intellect is the storehouse of your 
 children. There must they go for the precious jewels of dis- 
 tinction that will shine upon the garments of their character, 
 in the crowded highways of the world. There must they go 
 for the oil to illuminate their pathway through the darkest 
 deserts of the land. Turn them not away with empty hands, 
 and when the last scene has closed upon their eyes, and the 
 last word is spoken by the lips, that word will be God and 
 my mother. 
 
 The infant loves the brightest light, with what unabating 
 tenacity it will gaze at the burning lamp. The eye is a mental 
 organ, and all of our mental organs love the brightest lights. 
 When the light of evil is held up in brilliant colors the young 
 mind is attracted in that direction. Oh ! how many mothers 
 we see who are so engaged with household work that the 
 little child is given up to the care of a wicked and ignorant 
 nurse. The force of education is acknowledged by all parties 
 yet but few seem to observe the early period of its com- 
 mencement. 
 
 When we have no eyes, we do not recognize the light 
 of the sun, though the whole universe is filled with light. 
 And if we fail to be just, virtuous, and happy, it is not be- 
 cause there is no justice, virtue, and happiness, it is because 
 we have no mental organs to receive the impressions; it is 
 because we have not cultiva-ted these organs, 
 
130 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Some say that this philosophy destroys moral accounta- 
 bility. To them I answer : If every father in the land would 
 refuse to lend the aid of his strong arms, to anything that 
 produces evil, and every mother in the land would stamp 
 upon the infant brain of her children, the bright lessons of 
 virtue, truth and honesty, for three generations, the Devil 
 would have to camp out, for he would not find enter- 
 tainment in the humblest cottage in the land. 
 
 One generation works for the benefit of the next. How 
 many fathers toil through sunshine and storm, for half a cen- 
 tury, to lay up a store of gold for their children, and send 
 them out into the broad world with full pockets and empty 
 heads. How many mothers labor from the dawn of day until 
 the dusk of evening, brushing the dust from her chambers 
 and darkening up her rooms, that no bright ray of light may 
 approach her infant, in its cradle. 
 
 Oh! mistaken ?nolher, hear a lesson from the Mammoth 
 Cave, in Kentucky, in that cave tl ere is a river, in that river 
 there is fish, and those fish have no eyes. No bright ray of 
 light ever goes to that river and the eye of the fish not being 
 illuminated, disappears. 
 
 Oh ! how cruel! to shut up a little prattling babe in a dark 
 place. Throw it around loose, if you wish the windows of 
 its brain, and looking-glass of its soul, to beam with beauty. 
 
 One generation lives for another mentally as well as phys- 
 ically. We should all remember that for all that we are, as 
 good men and women, we are indebted to our parents, and 
 the society in which we were reared. 
 
 Now let us suppose, for the sake of the argument, that 
 we perform all kinds of misdeeds, and practice all kinds of 
 evil, for any considerable length of time. With this example 
 before our children the race would go back to barbarism. 
 
 Old men are passing away. This great country with its 
 lakes ancHits rivers, towns and cities, government and destiny, 
 
PEN PICTURES. 131 
 
 will soon be transmitted to the hands of our children : many 
 of whom are now in the blossom of infancy, and arms of 
 their mothers 
 
 There is no patriotism in all the wide world, that equals 
 true love of children. He who has no sympathy for the 
 children, and will do nothing for the benefit of posterity, is 
 no friend of his country. He is wandering in doubt and 
 darkness, no bright ray of light from the great star of intel- 
 lect has ever penetrated the dark recesses of his brain. 
 
 Whenever I see (if I shall live to see), the great minds 
 of the country, taking hold. of evil by the horns, and remov- 
 ing the bulls of error out of the pale of society, and leading 
 our children to the fountains of nature, baptizing them in the 
 water of progress, I will feel like St. John when he said : "I 
 saw an angel come down from heaven ; having the key of the 
 bottomless pit, and a great chain in his hand, and he laid 
 hold of the dragon— that old serpent— which is the Devil and 
 Satan, and bound him a thousand years.' 
 
 It is an easy going hobby-horse to charge the short-com- 
 ings of humanity to the Devil. Society molds the character 
 of her children. When a good mold is cast— the Devil- 
 is cast out. Society molds the minds of our youth, this fact 
 all parents feel — they may deny it with the lips. But let the 
 villainous face of vice approach the sacred nursery of their 
 children, and they will confess it with the truthful heart. 
 
 If you want morality, you must cultivate it in the infant 
 brain, not in a few isolated cases but throughout the broad 
 neighborhood. You had as well plant corn without turning the 
 hogs out of the field, as raise your children surrounded with 
 the sinks of corruption. 
 
 How many, in our towns and cities, have parlors shut 
 up with thousands for the moth to eat. Go to them with 
 the common school tax, and they think the Devil is after 
 'em with a sharp stick. 
 
132 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 When a new idea comes upon the stage, it comes as a 
 stranger. And if its mission be to a crowd the old idea off 
 the stage, there is a herculean task before it. The old idea, 
 though it may be false philosophy, has its old friends and 
 associates. Everybody knows it and everybody is ready to 
 assist it. The new idea must fight single-handed and alone, 
 Thus we see in all ages of the world, new ideas have appear- 
 ed and sunk again, to remain in the dark for ages. 
 
 When Galileo told the people that the earth moved, 
 the old idea that the earth was the center of the universe, 
 backed by a host of friends, crowded the new idea off the 
 stage, to slumber in darkness until it was. resurrected by Sir 
 Isaac Newton. 
 
 I come now to speak of mind more in detail, and of its 
 power on the mental organs. Thought is the result of action, 
 the action of anything is the result of power. The running 
 boy, or the walking man, whose steps are directed by the 
 mind, is slow to realize that fact, because some of the opera- 
 tions of the mind are so refined, that they are almost imper- 
 ceptible. When asleep or dead we do not walk or run. 
 
 There is a living power and a mental power, mysterious- 
 ly bl-nded in the elements of nature, No silent brain ever 
 thinks, while in that condition. Hence the sleeping man 
 does not think, yet he does live. And upon -this mysterious 
 separation of the mental and the living power, we conclude 
 that life developes organism, and the mental element operat- 
 ing upon the brain organs produces sensation, which is the 
 dividing link between the vegetable and animal kingdom, and 
 the ground-work of the mental light of the world. That life 
 developes organism without producing sensation, thought or 
 mind, is a fact known to all physicians, and to every student 
 of nature. 
 
 Life and mind are two parallel powers, running in the 
 same direction, and apparently working with the same tools. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 133 
 
 Life builds the house, mind occupies it, that is its. residence 
 is in the mental organs. The body may become diseased, 
 broken down, the tenement so shattered, that life is almost 
 extinct; while the mind remains romantic and bright, as the 
 morning star. On the other hand the body may remain firm 
 and bucksome, as a blue-head buffalo, and the mind dwindle 
 into a narrow channel, as dark as the valley of death, and 
 gloomy as the image of night. 
 
 The character of all our sensations is produced by the 
 mental organ, brought into action. The sound of a bell pro- 
 duces a sensation on the brain, through a mental organ — the 
 ear. 
 
 Form, shape and beauty produce a sensation on the 
 brain, through a mental organ, the eye. 
 
 The mental element passing through the organ of.com- 
 bativeness produces a sensation on the brain, but it is not a 
 sensation of love, and when the mental element passes 
 through the organ of love it will not produce a sensation of 
 hatred. 
 
 The crowded streets of a commercial city produce a sen- 
 sation on the brain, but it is not a sensation of solitude. 
 
 Go with me to the deep confines of a distant valley, 
 where no trace of human foot is found. The wild flowers 
 unfold their beauty by the side of the brook. The vine 
 clings to the branch of the majestic oak with unabating te- 
 nacity. The blue arch of heaven terminates the vision and 
 a sensation is produced on the brain. It is solitude, admira- 
 tion and awe. 
 
 All of our sensations are received through the mental 
 organs, and where there is no brain organ for any. given sen- 
 sation, passion or feeling, that feeling cannot be produced. 
 
 But the old philosophers say mind is internal, produced 
 by the brain, and power of life, and here we lork horns. 
 We have stripped this old philosophy of its overcoat. Now 
 
134 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 let us take its undergarments, not with a graceless grasp, but 
 with the tender fingers of nature's soft hand. 
 
 The old philosophers say life produces brain and brain 
 produces mind inseparably and indistinct. Ocular demons- 
 tration compels them to admit that mind is sometimes absent 
 from the brain while life is not. In this case life ceases to 
 produce mind. How is this ? What checks the thought of 
 a sleeping man? Let every one in this assembly stop think- 
 ing. Stop. Don't think about anything. Itis impossible, yet 
 when you sleep your thought stops. 
 
 The old philosophers say when you sleep the engineer 
 shuts off .steam. This engineer incognito in the waking state 
 has had different names in different ages of the world. He 
 is now usually called free will. He is a good engineer, but 
 not always on duty. He sometimes permits the fireman to 
 usurp his office. This fireman has also had different names 
 in different ages of the world. He is now called Old Nick.* 
 He is a good fireman but a bad engineer. His object is to 
 run off the track. He would have been discharged long ago, 
 but he keeps up the sham. 
 
 Free will is constantly admonished to watch Old Nick, 
 for they say that when the grave station is passed, if Old 
 Nick is not subdued, he'll kick free will overboard and run 
 the thing off the track. 
 
 Personifying the passions or mental organs is one of the 
 relics of the dark ages. 
 
 The Greeks and Romans were the first phrenologists in 
 the world. They predicated upon the organ of combativeness 
 the existence of God Mars, who delighted in the blood and 
 carnage of the battle field. 
 
 They placed a bandage over the eyes of Cupid to estab- 
 lish the axiom that love hides a multitude of faults. No won- 
 der the Hebrew prophet exclaimed, man is strange and 
 wonderfully made. 
 
 =-• The Devil. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 135 
 
 As I said before when a man sleeps his brain organs all 
 close up like the eye. When he awakes the light illuminates 
 his brain through the eye and the mental element illuminates 
 his brain through the brain organs, and he is immediately 
 under the influence of his will? Not so, but of experience 
 and desire. Experience is the light of the past, desire the 
 gratification of the passions. 
 
 Do not understand me to say a man has no will, for that 
 would be an error. I say his will is formed or brought into 
 being by predominating passions. It may be half white, but 
 it is not free born. 
 
 Experience teaches us that honey is sweet and the bee 
 will sting. If the sensation of appetite is stronger than the 
 sensation of fear we will take the honey. 
 
 We see the way before us. The sensations of vice invite 
 us on, while the sensations of virtue hold us back. 
 
 A struggle of sensations here ensues that is forcibly de- 
 scribed by St. Paul : " The good that I would I do not, but 
 the evil that I would not that I do." 
 
 We find ourselves under the influence of mental feelings. 
 Our best and only true guide is experience. Holy men of 
 old said, the way of the transgressor is hard. Disease, dis- 
 grace, darkness and death lie before him. Experience in- 
 vites him to return to the path of virtue and peace. Expe- 
 rience is the rule by which we try everything. Many new 
 things appear upon which we look with favor, but when ex- 
 perience lays them aside they are dead and beyond resurrec- 
 tion. All schools of philosophy on doubtful points are afraid 
 of experience. From those points they try to frighten you 
 like they would a child who cannot swim, by saying don't go 
 there its deep water. 
 
 Reflection is a repetition of thought. If you pass a house, 
 a. grove of trees and an open field their image is imperfect in- 
 the memory. Pass them the second, the third and the fourth 
 
136 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 time and their image is perfected. Every board on the house, 
 every leaning tree, the shades and shadows of the open field 
 are treasured in the memory. This is reflection applied to 
 the mental organ, the eye. When we are presented with a 
 problem we pass it through the mind until all of its parts be- 
 come familiar, and this is reflection upon any given problem 
 by the mind. 
 
 Reason is comparison. Take two sticks, place them 
 some distance apart and you are unable to determine which 
 is the longest, because the distance between them disturbs 
 in some degree the sense of vision. Place them together and 
 you see at once which is the longest. This decides the sense 
 of vision, and we decide all of our difficulties upon the same 
 principle. 
 
 Our problems must all be brought together and meas- 
 ured. You may call it comparison, experience or reason. 
 
 To the frequent application of the terms reflection and 
 reason we apply the term wisdom, which is the experience of 
 the age, and of all the past ages of the world. 
 
 The Greeks and Romans personified wisdom by the 
 Goddess Minerva, according to their faith. The Goddess 
 Minerva ruled over the mental world, distributing to or with- 
 holding wisdom from mortal man. 
 
 Solomon, the celebrated King of the Jews, personified 
 wisdom in his book of proverbs in the 8th chapter. He rep- 
 resents wisdom in council with the Creator. 
 
 And Aristotle, who lived three hundred years before the 
 Christian era, asserted that human reason did not originate 
 with the body, and that it was bestowed upon it from the out- 
 side. 
 
 You may trace the mind from the first indication, sensa- 
 tion and on to thought. Reflection, reason and wisdom, 
 and whatever link you strike, 10 or 10,000, break the chain 
 alike. 
 
PEN PICTURES. *3« 
 
 All of the different names that we have given to the 
 manifestations of mind are produced by the same intellect, and 
 that intellect is not produced by the digestion of food. It is 
 an eternal principle pervading the universe. It is th* domin- 
 ion of mind over matter. 
 
 It is not my province or intention to dispute any man's 
 religious faith. No man can work without faith. No man 
 caniive without faith. His family, his countrymen, the hu- 
 man race, are entitled to his love and esteem, but his faith 
 
 is his own. 
 
 I would not raise a vandal hand against the invigorating 
 name of liberty. It is every man's right to enjoy his own 
 faith, because faith is the ferryman who sets us all across the 
 dark river. The great interest of humanity-— here— lies in con- 
 duct—and the great teacher said, men do not gather in grapes 
 of thorns, or figs of thistles. 
 
 One more picture and the curtain falls. 
 
 Talk about the Free Thinkers, the Christians and the 
 Infidels ; through the long ages of the historic period, they 
 have waged a war of words that you might haul by the cart- 
 load and fill a common barn— a pile of rubbish that would 
 discourage and dismay the boldest student in the world. A 
 man had as well undertake to circumnavigate the globe with 
 a wheel-barrow as to read and understand all of the books 
 that have been written and published on mental philosophy. 
 It would be sacrilege to throw another grain of sand on this 
 mountain of opinions, were it not a worthy heroism to teach 
 man the value of his own mental freedom. 
 
 Ow philosophy flows as freely as a river of water; we 
 enter no man's brain for the purpose of taking a prisoner; we 
 have no mysterious judgments— passed by a court of doubtful 
 authority — to execute. Every man's brain is an Empire, 
 duly commissioned and appointed to fight its own battles and 
 work out its own destiny, whether lie be a Baptist, Methodist 
 
138 
 
 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 or Presbyterian — whether his coat be taken from a Catholic 
 or Protestant box, so it covers a true and faithful heart. 
 
 Our words are taken from Nature ; our book is written 
 by Nature's soft hand, and needs no interpreter. We speak 
 the same language to every man, whether he be at the north 
 pole or under the equator ; whether his lot be cast upon a 
 lone island in the sea, or among the crowded crowned heads 
 of Europe; whether he be king, or subject, or a favored son 
 of "the land of the free and home of the brave." 
 
LECTURE IV.— MAN AND ANIMALS. 
 
 What little time' we have, even in the longest life, for 
 observation, and when we are confined to one spot on the 
 earth, we only see the things that surround us and are pecu- 
 liar to the place upon which we live. It is by the light of 
 history that we see the actions of other men in other places 
 and other ages of the world, and if we undertake to pass 
 judgment upon the human race without the light of history, 
 how limited our knowledge, how unjust our judgment. When 
 we look back through the glass of history, though it may be 
 dark in some places, and observe the actions of the distin- 
 guished men — among all nations and in all ages of the world, 
 from the remotest historic period of antiquity to the present 
 time — how much better prepared are we to pass judgment 
 upon the character of man. History stamps virtuous and 
 noble actions with the seal of applause ; vicious and evil deeds 
 with the indelible ink of infamy. 
 
 Brave and noble deeds, performed by heroes of a by- 
 gone age, stand as boldly forth as does a lighthouse on the 
 shore of destiny ; dark and unrelenting evils, performed by 
 cowardly actors, is a warning to us and to all succeeding 
 generations of men. 
 
 While life and time shall pass away, 
 The deeds of men are sure to stay ; 
 Impressions made on the sands of tim 
 In every age and in every clime, 
 Are covered not by time nor space 
 But lasting as the human race. 
 
140 PEN PICTURES, 
 
 Seven hundred and seventy-six years before the Christian 
 era, Greek historians recorded the name of the victor in the 
 Olympic games, and this is the first reliable date of ancient 
 :ime. The Chaldean, the Egyptian, the Babylonian, the 
 Assyrian and the Persian empires had their rise and fall, and 
 left their remains for the future antiquarian to search in vain 
 for the date of their rise or time of their glory. 
 
 The Jews crystalized on the western borders of Asia. 
 Their laws forbade them to intermingle with other people, 
 and they made no advance in civilization from the time 
 Joshua led the Israelites over the river Jordan until Titus 
 destroyed Jerusalem and Jewish nationality. The philosophy 
 of the priests and rulers was carefully recorded and preserved 
 in the archives of their temples. They paid little or no atten- 
 tion to time or dates. 
 
 A careful comparison of their records and traditions 
 places the antiquity of man at about 7,320 years. Modern 
 antiquarians think this time entirely too short — indeed, some- 
 have ventured to place the antiquity of man as far back as 
 24,000 years. How long man lived a purely animal life we 
 have no means of knowing. Scientific men speak of three 
 ages, which they denominate the "Stone," the "Bronze" 
 and the "Iron" ages. In the infant age of the human race 
 they made no tools of anything but stone — all of their imple- 
 ments were made of stone. At a more advanced period 
 bronze appears, decorating their implements and ornaments. 
 
 With the "Iron Age" commences heroic civilization and 
 the light of written history. This light first illuminated the 
 hills of Greece. All Asia had been an immense battle-field. 
 The Grecian States, on the edge of the greit waves of con- 
 flict, emerged from the night of darkness. In this rude and 
 barbarous age a knowledge of letters animated the men of 
 Greece with the spirit of liberty. The Egyptian, Chinese and 
 Hindoo people sought repose in non-intercourse, contented 
 
PEN PICTURES. I^ 1 
 
 to remain in their own native darkness, reached a certain 
 point of regulated order and stopped. The Chaldean, As- 
 syrian and Persian races kept in the stream of progress. 
 
 The moving to and fro of great bodies of men, the wars 
 of conquest and subjugation, gave rise to commerce. The 
 intermingling of nations advanced civilization, while the deso- 
 lating hand of war destroyed the identity of existing people. 
 The intermingling of races gave rise to a nobler blood; and, 
 with the letters of Greece and rise of Rome, we see the 
 Caucasian race come upon the stage of action, unfolding the 
 great work of genius and progress. How far they will ulti- 
 mately go, lies way forward in the future womb of time. 
 
 Diverse from the course of the sun, human genius rises 
 up in the West and flows toward the East. Alexander the 
 Great rose up in the West and conquered the nations of the 
 East • Constantine the Great rose up in the West and made 
 himself master of the Roman Empire; Charlemagne restored 
 the West long after the Eastern division of the Roman Empire 
 perished. In all of the great battles of earth, the eagle of 
 victory has hovered 'round western arms. In our late war, 
 the flag of victory followed western men. The heart ana 
 soul of°this country, is in the Mississippi Valley. 
 
 I demonstrated in my lecture on time and motion, that 
 the human race approached the middle of the historic period, 
 before any instrument was invented for keeping time. The 
 ancients paid no attention to chronology. The Chaldean 
 was the first empire. Abram, the father of the Jewish na- 
 tion, went out from Ur, of the Chaldees, to go into the land 
 of Canaan. He pre-empted the land of Canaan from the 
 river Euphrates to the borders of Egypt. Subsequently we 
 have the history of the patriarchs, preserved by tradition. 
 Cities were built and walled in; temples and pyramids flour- 
 ished and decayed, having stood as monuments of the power 
 of kings, and slavery of the people. 
 
142 PEN PICTURES, 
 
 After perusing the pages of book history, we turn to tra- 
 dition — conflicting and contradicting accounts — turn us tc 
 cave history. We dig up the bones of our progenitors, 
 marked only with long periods of time. The cradle of hu- 
 manity is lost in the night of ages. The antiquarian is like 
 a stranger in a strange land, who, after losing every trace of 
 his way, wanders in the shades of night. 
 
 I come now to speak of the Romans, and of the Cau- 
 casian race. Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Napoleon 
 Bonaparte, and George Washington, were all descendants of 
 the Caucasian race. Galileo, Sir Isaac Newton, Professor 
 Morse and Benjamin Franklin, descended from the Cauca- 
 sian race. All, or nearly all, of the men of progress, are de- 
 scendants of the Caucasian race. There are a few among 
 the Mongolians, less among the Malays, and none among 
 the negro races of men. Rome was built on the bank of the 
 river Tiber in Italy; there is nothing peculiar about its local- 
 ity. It was the character of the people that made Rome 
 the mistress of the world. You may trace that character from 
 the Tiber, in Italy, to the Thames in England, and to the 
 Potomac and Mississippi in America. Talk about a war of 
 races. The barbarism of physical war is passing away. A 
 war of intellect is coming upon the stage. This war will 
 blend ali nations in one language and one religion. Who 
 shall the victor be ? Let the Caucasian answer. 
 
 Julius Caesar, although brave and generous, laid the 
 foundation upon which was subsequently erected the great 
 power of the Roman monarchs, the history of whom, fur- 
 nish us with the outlines of vice and virture. Some of them 
 have a high claim to virtue; none were ever false to their 
 power, or unmindful of it. No man, either of high or low 
 estate, could escape the frown of the Emperor. There was 
 no country upon the habitable earth, to which he could fly, 
 as the land of the free, and home of the brave. Go where he 
 
PEN PICTURES 143 
 
 would, the frown of the Emperor followed him as dark as 
 the valley of Hinnom and certain as the grasp of death — there 
 was no escape from it, but in the Spirit Land, where human- 
 ity is laid even, and the servant is free from his master. The 
 proud Roman, when defeated, never asked for or expected his 
 life. To him defeat and death were the same thing. In the 
 result of this philosophy, we see one hundred and fifty thousand 
 Romans engaged in a single battle, not against a foreign ene- 
 my; it was Roman against Roman, steel against steel, Cauca- 
 sian against Caucasian. The power of the Emperor was every- 
 thing. Hence we see Brutus and Cassius in the Senate house 
 with drawn daggers, not to spill the blood of Caesar, but to 
 waste the power of the Emperor. The history of the Roman 
 Republic was fresh in the mind of Brutus, and he thought but 
 one man (Julius Caesar) stood in the way, and this has given 
 rise to the classic words: "Not that I love Caesar less; but 
 I love Rome more." When, afterward, Brutus was over- 
 come by the united arms of Antony and Octavius, he conse- 
 crated the declaration by throwing his body upon his sword, 
 exclaiming: "O! virtue, thou art but a name!" History 
 has embellished the name of Brutus as the noblest Roman of 
 them all. With the fall of the Roman empire, we date the 
 rise of modern nations. We have different countries, and 
 different races of men — thousands of years have transpired 
 in giving character to the different races. Our country 
 stands pre-eminently in the front rank of all nations which 
 are in the stream of progress. In most other countries men 
 are born princes, they are born aristocrats and they are born 
 workmen. In our country, a man is not born anything — 
 he is born to fill the measure marked out by his capacity. 
 We have done more, and we are doing more, than any other 
 country, to develop the intellect of the individual man. 
 
 All the lessons of history teach us that man is a progres- 
 sive being, and that in its infancy the human race, like the 
 
144 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 birth of the individual man, was born naked, with no insti- 
 tutions, destitute of all arts and sciences, and as some emi- 
 nently learned men believe, speechless, from which condi- 
 tion he has ever been struggling up from the dark valley of 
 antiquity to a high and holy hill of light. In childhood we 
 believe the strange stories of our nurse ; in manhood we dis- 
 card the stories and retain our love for the nurse. "We love 
 the old men who nursed the infancy of humanity, but we are 
 discarding their strange stories. The early traditions of all 
 nations, surround the accounts of their origin with supernat- 
 ural persons and events, which the judgment of more en- 
 lightened times, condemn as fabulous and impossible. The 
 primitive condition of the human race is represented by 
 very opposite opinions. One claims a golden age of inno- 
 cence and bliss, the other a wild and savage state of barbar- 
 ism. There must have been a first man, and it matters but 
 little to us, whether we adopt the dirt philosophy, that he 
 was made of clay, or the evolution theory, that he devel- 
 oped from the lower animals, When he became man, he 
 was not an animal nor an angel. Standing on a middle 
 ground between the animal and angelic state, no wonder he 
 ate forbidden fruit. No wonder his appetite continues for so 
 many generations. The greater wonder is, that he is emerging 
 from the slavery of his appetite, and traveling on toward the 
 temple of knowledge. Standing way back in the twilight of 
 the infancy of the race, he may have resembled a speechless 
 brute of the forest, making his desires known to those at 
 hand in a barbarous dialect, and eking out a life-time in the 
 neighborhood of his native cave. Now he speaks to his fel- 
 low-man across the ocean, traverses a continent in a few 
 days, and circumnavigates, the globe in a few months. All 
 history teaches that man is progressive, and points out the 
 difficulties that have been overcome — those that yet stand in 
 
PEN PICTURES. 145 
 
 the way— and that these achievements are being accom- 
 plished by universal education. 
 
 We come now to speak more definitively of man and an- 
 imals, as seen 0:1 the broad .field of nature with the naked 
 eye. Let us take mm down to a level with the animals. Not 
 that we wish to degrade humanity, but for the sake of the 
 argument let us take man down to a level with the animals. 
 They see by the same light, hear by the same means, feel by 
 the same process, feed upon the same food, drink the same 
 water, breathe the same air, and are animated by the same 
 mental elements. Where, then, is the great mental differ- 
 ence between men and between animals and man? Is it 
 not in their physical and mental organism ? 
 
 Take a transparent bottle, fill it with beautiful trinkets, 
 and you see all of their variegated colors. Then take an 
 opaque or blue bottle, fill it with the same trinkets, and you 
 will hardly distinguish one trinket from another — yet all that 
 you see in the blue bottle, you see by the same light that you 
 see them in the transparent bottle. Then, is not the difference 
 in the organism of the two bottles containing the trinkets? 
 And I affirm that the mental difference between men and 
 between animals and man, is in the casket containing the 
 mental trinkets— the size, nature and quality of the brain. 
 The man who undertakes to overthrow this philosophy will, 
 have a blue-bottle head; for he will begin by telling you 
 about a spirit, or some dark, incomprehensible thing. The 
 dog is more intelligent than the cat. Is there a dog spirit 
 and a cat spirit? or is the difference in the mental organism 
 of the two animals? A dog acts upon the basis of his 
 mental organism, and so does a man. A dog barks and 
 hunts, like his ancestors did 2,000 years ago, because he has 
 no mental organ of progress. Animal instinct is the great 
 hobby-horse of old philosophers. What is instinct? Arose 
 will smell as sweet by any other name. They say instinct, 
 
14(3 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 and there they stop. What they call instinct is nothing but 
 a mental organ transmitted from one generation to another. 
 We find it in all animals, and also in man, wise by inherit- 
 ance. The bee builds a honey cell to-day, like its ancestors 
 did 2000 years ago. This knowledge in the bee is a mental 
 organ, transmitted by inheritance. Go with me to a beaver's 
 dam, and you will observe the beaver has not only selected a 
 good locality on the creek — he has also taken every advan- 
 tage of the ground— he has executed his work like his ances- 
 tors did ages ago. And the old philosophers call it instinct. 
 They have drawn a line between what they have been pleased 
 to call instinct and reason. 
 
 It is like the axle we put through the earth, upon which 
 we say the earth revolves — it has no existence, in reality. A 
 man who is born blind, is mentally inferior to one born with 
 e y e5 — that is, he has one brain organ less. And we must 
 draw the line between man and animals upon the basis of 
 mental organism. But you must remember that neither man 
 nor animal can learn or realize anything that does not come 
 within the scope of some of his mental organs. Show a beau- 
 tiful picture to a blind man, or whisper the soft voice of love 
 in the ear of a deaf woman, and what do you accomplish ? 
 Men learn to the extent of their mental organism, and so do 
 animals, and both receive knowledge by inheritance. 
 
 In all ages of the world there have been men, wise by 
 inheritance. They manifest their wisdom by a fixed organ in 
 the brain. Their ideas of the way things ought to be per- 
 formed, their philosophy of time and space of men and things 
 of humanity, and human destiny, with them is all settled — 
 was known to their fathers and transmitted to them by inher- 
 itance. These men never give anything to art, science, or 
 philosophy. They are like the bee and the beaver— willing 
 to work like their ancestors did ages ago. 
 
 Man has a mental organ of progress, of which we will 
 
PEN PICTURES. 
 
 speak in our next lecture more at length. It is a law of na- 
 ture, that like produces like, and by the force of this law ail 
 of our mental organs receive an impulse in the blossom. 
 Primitive man commenced by cutting things with a sharp 
 stone. As genius and discoveries advanced, tools were im-" 
 proved, and necessity demanded workmen in wood, stone 
 and metal. Continual work, and consequently continued 
 thought on the best way to work, strengthened the mental 
 organ of mechanism ; and that organ in an active state — has 
 been transmitted from one generation to another, until now 
 we have children born mechanics. We may say the same of 
 music — we have children born musicians, and we have chil- 
 dren born honest, and born rogues, and where will we stop ? 
 This we call the laws of hereditary descent — they defy and 
 resist education for a long time. Take a child that is a born 
 rogue — one in whom the organ or passion to steal has been 
 strongly fixed by inheritance, and it meets with no strenuous 
 opposition as the boy grows up — he will steal whether he be 
 needy or not. Confine him in prison for theft, and when you 
 let him out he will steal again. You might put him in a 
 wake, to sit up with the dead, and he would steal the orna- 
 ments from his grandmother's coffin. 
 
 An honest man cannot steal — he don't know how — be- 
 cause he has not received the passion by inheritance or 
 instruction. 
 
 All of our knowledge is directed by mental organ- 
 ism; for knowledge is the same thing throughout the 
 broad expanse of the mental world — an animal knows what 
 it does know as well as a man. The brain of an animal is 
 less extensive than the brain of a man, and does not realize 
 as many facts. Attack a man and his dog. The dog will 
 realize the fact that you are an enemy, as quick as the man. 
 though he may not know all of the facts in the case The 
 humblest individual in this house knows that the door opens 
 
148 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 on the east side of the building just as well as the wisest- 
 philosopher in this assembly knows that fact. His opportu- 
 nities may have been limited, but so far as his understanding 
 has realized facts, he knows the truth of those facts just as 
 well as the most accomplished and learned man in the world. 
 
 Our difference in knowledge is m quantity, and not in 
 quality. Some men have a more extensive mental organism 
 than others, arising from inheritance, instruction and oppor- 
 tunity, and may acquire more knowledge — that*- is more in 
 quantity, but of no better quality. 
 
 The mental organism of some races of men is more ex- 
 tensive than other races. The teachers of the negro race in 
 this country will bear testimony that that race cannot be 
 educated, up to the Caucasian standard of education. Their 
 limited mental organism cannot penetrate the wonderful 
 avenues that have been traced by Caucasian brain. 
 
 Seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling and feeling, are the 
 five senses of the old philosophers. They are common to 
 animals and man. They are all external and visible organs 
 of the brain. Sensation or feeling, in some of our mental 
 organs, is the object and aim of all humanity. Too many 
 delight in the sensation of appetite, they explore the kitchen 
 from the pantry to the slop-bucket to find something that 
 will stimulate the appetite. Others more intent after some- 
 thin^ to stimulate other feelings, can live a week on a sea- 
 biscuit and a woodpecker. 
 
 The internal as well as the external organs of the brain, 
 are seen in animals, as in man, but are more extensive in 
 man. The passions always manifest themselves with the 
 character of the mental organ through which they pass. 
 Anger frowns and stamps, grief wrings its hands, joy dances 
 and leaps. Self-esteem throws the body in an erect, proud 
 attitude ; combativeness throws the body of a man or animal 
 in the attitude of attack. The dog opens his mouth aiul 
 
PEN PICTURES. 140 
 
 shows his teeth, man doubles up and shows his fist to his 
 adversary. The sens.ation of fear or cowardice throws the 
 body in a stooping, watchful position. The dog sneaks off 
 with his tail down, and to use a slang phrase, man skedadles. 
 
 All of our feelings assume the character of the brain or- 
 gan, through which they pass, and manifest themselves ac- 
 cording to the strength of that organ. Our mental organs 
 become feeble when left out of use, and strong when culti- 
 vated. Boys who grow up in the streets, without the watch- 
 ful care of a faithful mother, learn the lessons of idleness, and 
 receive impressions on the infant brain, eminently calculated 
 to produce in age, a regular soup-house-rat. 
 
 Boys who grow up at home and in the schools, get the 
 foundation of a better education ; kind parents and a pleasant 
 home, sow the seed of patriotism and love of country. When 
 the precious jewels of the infant brain are unfolded by the 
 delicate touch" of a faithful mother, the noble woman has not 
 only served her child, she has served her country, God, and 
 the human race. 
 
 When you hear a man say he is not in favor of the com- 
 mon schools, that he is a bachelor, and don't take the 
 county paper, you may set him down in the dead-book; too 
 penurious to educate the orphan ; too mean to have a son of 
 his own ; too careless to read the events transpiring 'round 
 him; will give nothing for the fate of his country, or life of 
 his nation ; unwilling to contribute one drop of oil to the 
 light of the age in which he lives — he is a dead beat. 
 
 The wheel of progress moves toe slow, yet it ro'ls steadily 
 on. The work is assigned to a few individuals, who are in 
 the main public men, giving precept and example. In all 
 ages and countries they make mistakes. No stream was ever 
 known to rise above its fountain. When the ruling or lead- 
 ing men of society, or of a. nation, indulge in vice, the public 
 mind is poisoned at the fountain and all the streams become 
 
150 PEN PICTURES, 
 
 impure. The numan brain is stamped with the love of imi- 
 tation. Our wise men look back for a precedent. We 
 measure our actions by the laws of the society in which we 
 live. Individual effort to rise above the laws of society is 
 dimly discernable. No wonder virtuous humanity has strug- 
 gled so long and so hard. 
 
 Some scientific men have endeavored to identify man 
 and animals, by appealing to the body. They have dissect 
 ed the brain, counted the teeth and measured the bones of 
 all the monkeys, under the false impression that brain produces 
 mind. The Darwinian theory of improvement by natural 
 selection as applied to the animal kingdom, is founded upon 
 laborious study and profound philosophy, but it applies to 
 the body and not to the mind. We have improved our do- 
 mestic animals to a wonderful extent, but that improvement 
 applies to the body and not to the mind. If you want a wise 
 hog you must go back to the old wood-rooter. Cultivating 
 the body does not always cultivate the mind. If it did, the 
 man who could make the grandest bodily show, would be 
 the wisest man in the w r orld. 
 
 In the third century of the Christian era there lived a 
 Roman Emperor — Maximin — of Gothic origin, who was said 
 to be eight feet high, could drink seven gallons of wine and 
 eat forty pounds of meat in a day. He could grind up peb- 
 bles in the palm of his hands and tear up a small tree by the 
 roots. Yet his mind was not sufficiently developed to com- 
 mand the Roman legions, for he was murdered in his tent by 
 some of his own soldiers. The Greeks and Romans educated 
 their youth in physical strength, that they might become good 
 soldiers. Mental education was little thought of among the 
 ancients, especially the education of the masses. We have 
 fine institutions of learning, but we have too many book-men, 
 and too few original men. 
 
 Too many navel in the oeaten path of their predecessors 
 
PEN PICTURES 151 
 
 and never stop to think of original things. You must think. 
 The tide of thought flows as freely as the atmosphere, but 
 you don't use it. You had as well try to realize physical 
 strength without action, as to try to realize mental strength 
 \\ ithout thinking. But remember you had as well try to trace 
 a bee course in the backwoods without eyes, or fly from the 
 Black Hills to the Dead Sea without wings, as try to learn or 
 realize anything, for which you have no mental capacity. 
 Go on with the natural bent of the mind. Press forward in 
 the direction that the light appears, and on, and on, you will 
 go, for the poet said : 
 
 " Man's greatest knowledge is himself to know." 
 
 All men soon become acquainted with their bodies But 
 as I have already demonstrated, the body is not the man, 
 the mind is the mat 
 
 I once knew an old man by the name of Vincen who 
 was in the habit of getting drunk, as we say, &nd as you all 
 know, this operation is performed by driving the mind out of 
 the brain and leaving the body to take care of itself, without 
 the mind to direct it. The poor body is found wanting. 
 Can't walk straight. Don't know up from down. It is all 
 the time going down, and all the time going up; but goes 
 down, more than it does up. We call it drunk. It is the 
 body that is drunk, not the mind. The mind has left the 
 body limber and we call it drunk. 
 
 Old man Vincen lived in the country, and he went to 
 town where he met with his brother, who gave him a new 
 coat. After this event he met some drinking friends and 
 got drunk. In this condition his body started home in the 
 dusk of the evening. On the w r ay, when the last lingering 
 spark of mind had departed, the question presented itself 
 to that body: Had Vincen started home, or was he yet in 
 town? The eyes surveyed the body: the new coat looked 
 
152 FEN PICTURES. 
 
 strange , the lips muttered, this is not Vincen, Vincen is in 
 town. Who can this be ? God ! this is Shaw. Shaw was a 
 proud, dressy man. The legs of that body raised the feet 
 high to walk like Shaw, and it tumbled into a mud hole, 
 where it lay until the next morning, when old man Vincen 
 came and dragged it out. 
 
 Oh ! how many drive the mind away from them by 
 intoxication. Oh ! how many, by mental laziness, fail to 
 prepare the mental house, prepare the store-houses of the 
 brain, and the mind or the man will come and dwell in it. 
 And let me say to all young men, do not sit down and brood 
 over the opinion that you are no great man, for if such be the 
 case, you have made no preparation for a great mind to come 
 and dwell in your bram. Go to work, clear away the rub- 
 bish, forsake all of your bad habits. We do not see great 
 men seek the company of rowdies, then drive the rowdies, 
 the bad habits out of your brain, and a great mind will come 
 and dwell there. 
 
 When the mental element enters, brain organism, it pro- 
 duces sensation or feeling. All live animals have feeling, but 
 of very different character. The horse has a sensation ot 
 hunger, but he has no sensation of honor or honesty; he 
 will eat another horse's corn as quick as his own. 
 
 Then I ask, what mysterious power produces all of the 
 various sensations, passions and feelings, that we observe in 
 the animal kingdom, where can you place it but with brain 
 organism ? 
 
 An animal, through his brain organs, realizes the sensa- 
 tions of hunger, thirst, rest, association, love, hatred, ambi- 
 tion and fear, in common with man. 
 
 Man, through a superior brain organism, realizes the 
 additional sensations cf honor, honesty, happiness, holiness, 
 integrity, industry and immortality. 
 
 The old philosophy of instinct and reason that man 
 
PEN PICTURES. 1^3 
 
 learns, and that animals do not, is a mistake that must be 
 apparent to all men of experience with animals, who think 
 at all. An animal can be taught to the extent of its mental 
 organism. In teaching an animal we always appeal to sen- 
 sation or feeling. We must appoal to a mental organ of 
 which he is in possession, sight, smell, hearing, love, fear, 
 appetite or any other mental organ common to his species, 
 in some of which he is superior to man. Your dog can tell 
 you the course the rabbit runs, when you can not tell by the 
 use of the same means; because nature has given him a more 
 refined sensation in one of his mental organs— the nose. 
 Man has circumnavigated the globe, measured the earth and 
 fathomed the sea; has raised his arm to the clouds and 
 brought down the lightning to his use; can speak to his fel- 
 low man across the ocean and detail the momentous events 
 of the day. And yet he is compelled to sit down in the 
 glory of all his wisdom, and acknowledge that his dog knows 
 some things that he does not know. 
 
 The most accomplished statesman that ever erected a 
 legal standard on the face of God's green earth, or presided 
 over the highest and best appointed institution of learning 
 ever organinized among mankind may learn some things 
 from a poor, forlorn, ragged and wretched beggar. Teachirg 
 is unfolding the great casket of nature. No mortal man has 
 ever seen the last picture. We clean the dust out of our 
 eves with a towel and water; teaching is cleaning the dust 
 out of our mental organs with the water of experience; but 
 you had as well try to unfold the brilliancy of the sun to a 
 blind man, as try to teach a man or an animal anything that 
 is outside of his mental organs. You had as well try to 
 frighten the man in the moon from crossing the ocean with- 
 out a canoe, as try to teach a man or an animal anything for 
 which he has no mental capacity. You may soon teach a 
 dog to sit by the fire, because his feelings soon realize the 
 
154 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 advantage of heat, but you cannot teach him to mend up 
 the fire, because his limited mental organism docs not permit 
 him to see cause while it does not realize effect: Man soon 
 learns to build up the fire, but if you ask him what fire is — 
 he like the d)g — he can't teli you. 
 
 Pliny. Mola and Plutarch speak of ancient tribes in 
 Egypt, Greece and Persia, who were unacquainted with the 
 use of fire. Chinese historians acknowledge the same of 
 their progenitors, the inhabitants of the Marian islands dis- 
 covered in J551, who made no use of fire, and the friction 
 match was no!: discovered until 1829. by John Walker. The 
 old people used to keep the seed of fire, as they called it, 
 covered up in the ashes, and when the seed was lost, hunt 
 up a flint and strike like Pittsburg, not for more wages, but 
 more fire. Now you can buy a bo:: of matches with a cent, 
 and set the city on fire, like the strikers at Pittsburg ; L urn 
 the iron horse; but if we ask you what fire is, you are like the 
 dog, you can't tell. Fire is an old friend as well as an enemy. 
 We have known it always, but we only know its name. We 
 know that is a principle or element pervading the universe. 
 More than this we do not know, because our limited mental 
 organism does not permit us to penetrate the secret chambers 
 of the universe of God. 
 
 One more lecture and we part. Friends are parting 
 throughout our beautiful land. Friends live forever, and 
 love forever, but they do not part forever. They part like a 
 city and the sun, to meet again in a little while. You and I 
 part at death, and what is our life? One line in the great 
 book of history; one grain in the sands of time; one drop 
 in the ocean of humanity, and adieu to the scene we cali 
 life. We part in trouble; we meet in peace, we part in a 
 world of sin and sorrow; we meet in a world of purity and 
 peace; we part in tenements of clay; we meet in tenements 
 immortalized. This closes our lecture on man and animals. Our 
 
PEN PICTURES. 155 
 
 next ecture is on spirit and soul, in which we will speak of 
 the mental organ we term the organ of progress. 
 
 More intricate than the broad expanse of the universe, 
 The hidden friend and wonderful counselor of all nations of men 
 That has ever been as true to the barbarous as to civilized man ; 
 That has stood over the dusky woman of ancient times, 
 
 and hovers 'round the accomplished mother of our civiliza- 
 tion, when she lays the darling of her bosom beneath the 
 dark, green sod, and will ever stand over the last lingering 
 spark of humanity, until the sun of hope darkens and dis- 
 appears from the heaven of anticipations. 
 
LECTURE V.— SPIRIT AND SOUL. 
 
 Brutus will start a. spirit as soon as Caesar.— Shakspeare. 
 
 In our previous lectures we endeavored to look at nature 
 in a natural way. The present subject seems to demand that 
 we should depart, at least in some degree, from the great 
 cardinal principles laid down by the laws of nature, yet we 
 do not propose to travel on the out-side track. True to our 
 nature and to the laws that govern the universe, we will 
 travel upon that road as long as there is a foot of 
 ground beneath our feet, and when the last grain of sand has 
 sunk from our pathway, make one long leap for the eternal 
 shore. 
 
 In the language of St. Paul — "If we have hope only in 
 this life, we are of all men most miserable." 
 
 The errors of our fathers are left behind in the back- 
 woods. We have thrown the old stage coach away, and 
 pass from city to city on a palace car ; but we have not 
 thrown away the principle. We have improved the roads, 
 magnified the motive power, and enlarged the coach, but we 
 still travel upon wheels. 
 
 Many great minds of the age have thrown away the phi- 
 losophy of primitive Judaism, but there is a principle m 
 human nature that they cannot throw away without throwing 
 themselves away, for it was planted by that great eternal 
 hand who laid the foundations of the universe, and appointee 
 a place for the earth. 
 
PEN PICTURES. ID, 
 
 In the early dawn of the historic period Jacob journeyed 
 toward Haran, and slept under a tree, with the grass for a 
 bed and a stone for a pillow. He dreamed that he saw a 
 ladder reaching from Earth to Heaven, This is the second 
 dream.recorded in Jewish history. No one will contend that 
 Jacob saw a material ladder. Thatiladder was seen by the 
 mind's eye, or by the great^ power 01 the imagination; and, 
 although it was not a true ladder, it did represent a true 
 principle. 
 
 The imagination is a principle in mental organism com- 
 mon to all men. It is no true philosophy to claim it for any 
 profession or class or men to the exclusion of all others. It 
 is the foundation upon which all of the castles of supersti- 
 tion known to the human race have been erected. No man 
 builds a house without a foundation, and any philosophy not 
 founded upon some of the cardinal principles of nature, is 
 nothing but a castle in the air. 
 
 If any man will show me how the human understanding 
 can be approached, out-side of the natural senses common 
 to all men, by any other avenue than that of imagination, I 
 will never open my mouth again on the subject of mental 
 philosophy. When a man has long dissipated he sometimes 
 sees snakes in his boots. Now we all know that the snakes 
 are false, but the principle is not false. The sight of the 
 snakes is a picture, representing the road of ruin and dissipa- 
 tion upon which the mind is traveling. The power of the 
 mind called imagination underlies all human progress. It 
 represents genius and forecast as well as spirit and soul. A 
 steam engine would have run as well two thousand years ago 
 as it does to-day, and the magnetic telegraph would have 
 conveyed language across the ocean on the day that Colum- 
 bus discovered America, just as well and upon the same 
 principles that it does to-day. But those pinciples in nature 
 slumbered beneath a dark cloud of ignorance for acres. 
 
158 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 The question naturally presents itself to us: by what 
 means do we penetrate the dark recesses of the universe and 
 unfold the secret nerves of nature so useful to man? Let the 
 man of genius answer, and he will tell ycu before he made 
 any new thing, he saw its picture with the mind's eye, or by 
 the great power of imagination. And thus through the long 
 ages of the historic period that great power of the mind, the 
 imagination, has been unfolding the beauties of nature, and 
 man can say that we have approached the end of the 
 chapter, or even the middle of the casket. 
 
 Could the wisest philosopher of the age sleep a thousand 
 years and reappear upon the stage of action, he would be lost 
 in wonder, and look upon the age in which we live as an age 
 of semi-barbarism. 
 
 On the sixth day of October, 1829, George Stephenson, 
 a coal miner of Northumberland, England, having construct- 
 ed the Rocket, the first locomotive engine ever seen in the 
 world, run it from Manchester to Liverpool at the rate of 
 thirty males an hour. All practical mechanics in the country, 
 while Stephenson was at work, condemned the experime:; 
 and pronounced it a failure. George Stephenson saw the 
 picture of the Rocket by the power of his imagination before 
 he made the engine, for no man can work in the dark. At 
 this period the great Henry Clay was wasting his eloqence in 
 Congress, in favor of the Cumberland turnpike road. Mr. 
 'Clay was a great orator, but he was no mechanic. Hence 
 we see the dusty coal miner coming forward with an argu- 
 ment more potent than all the oratory in the world. 
 
 I do not ccntend that every \ picture presented to the 
 imagination can be worked out. There must necessarily be 
 failures among all men and among all classes. 
 
 All Pible readers are familar with the book of Daniel. 
 Daniel saw four beasts rise up out of the sea, and the fourth 
 beast was diverse from the rest He had great iron teeth and 
 
PEN PICTURES. 
 
 
 ten horn?, and soon there came up among them another little 
 horn that had eyes. No one will contend that Daniel saw any 
 beast m reality; he saw a picture by the great power oi 
 imagination, which he said was a picture of a revolution in 
 governments. Daniel was a prisoner in Babylon, and his 
 mind glowed with unabating tenacity for a return to his 
 native land. Learned clergymen have been trying to work 
 out Daniel's pictures for more than two thousand years. The 
 angel Gabriel, so often mentioned by subsequent writers, 
 whom they have commissioned to sound the last horn, is one 
 of DanieFs pictures. Daniel is the first writer who mentions 
 the name of the angel Gabriel, which you may see by con- 
 sulting the book of Daniel, viii. 15. It is said that Daniel's 
 book was shown to Alexander the Great, and^.he supposed 
 that he saw his own image in one of Daniel's pictures, and 
 for this cause treated the Jews with great lenity. 
 
 The old Jews taught their descendants that some animals 
 were unclean, and their laws forbade the use of them. All 
 historians know with what great "respect the Jews regarded 
 their laws. We read in the Christian Scriptures that Peter, 
 when he dwelt at Joppa, with Simon, a tanner, by the sea 
 side, saw a great sheet, held at four corners, and let down 
 from heaven : this sheet was full of all manner of beasts, and 
 he heard a voice saying, "Arise, Peter, kill and eat." No one 
 believes that Peter saw a real sheet full of real animals. 
 Peter saw a picture, by the great power of imagination, from 
 which he concluded that the God of the Jews was also the 
 God of the Romans, for he soon after baptized Cornelius, 
 who was a Roman. We know that the question prevailed at 
 that time among some of the early Christians, whether or not 
 their faith extended outside of the Jewish nation. 
 
 St. John said: "I stood upon the sand of the sea and 
 saw a beast rise up out of the sea having seven heads and ten 
 horns.'* No one believes that any such beast ever had an 
 
ICO PEN PICTURES. 
 
 existence in the universe. St. John saw a picture by the 
 great power of his imagination. Many have wondered at the 
 similaritv between the visions of Daniel and St. John. Daniel 
 lived 700 years before St. John, and Alexander the Great, 
 who lived 300 years before St. John, supposed that he saw 
 himself in one of Daniel's pictures. Some of the clergymen 
 of our day are engaged in working out those pictures. They 
 are like the boy who went out to learn French when he did 
 not understand his mother tongue. 
 
 Mind operates upon or through brain organism, and all 
 of these old men, who have long since passed away and gone 
 to their reward, were mentally organized precisely like men 
 are to-day. When thought has long impressed any of the 
 mental organs the imagination extends in the direction of 
 that organ. 
 
 Mahomet went into a cave and secluded himself, while 
 his imagination traversed the regions of heaven, astraddle of 
 a white mule. A mechanic may train his thoughts upon the 
 subject of invention until they travel, seemingly, out side of 
 h : s brain, and he beholds wonderful associations of machin- 
 ery — he is in the broad field of imagination where every 
 shape and form appears. This great power of the human 
 brain is common to all men. One class of men reveal the 
 beauties of heaven, another class reveal the beauties of earth. 
 We call them the men cf pr:grcss. 
 
 A word is the sign or garment of an idea. Living 
 languages are progressive. No language has ever lived a 
 thousand years. Could the subjects of Alfred the Great re- 
 appear in England they would not understand the English 
 language as it is spoken to-day. Much difficulty sometimes 
 arises from the want of a proper understanding of the words 
 we speak. I hold my hand here, and move it there. My 
 hand is a thing and will perish, the change of its position is a 
 principle and will not parish; thus you will understand what 
 
PEN PICTURES. lfil 
 
 I mean by the words things of nature ana principles of nature. 
 
 I come now to speak of the word spirit, and will en- 
 deavor and do so in a spirit of meekness. 
 
 The word spirit occurs in the Scriptures about 324 times, 
 and is generally used to designate a principle, and not a 
 thing. The word angel is often used in the Scriptures, and 
 designates a body or thing. The word soul occurs in the 
 Scriptures about 220 times. It is often used to designate a 
 number or individual — eight souls, or eight persons, crossed 
 over the flood in Noah's ark. We conclude, therefore, that 
 the word spirit, as we should understand it, designates a 
 principle or a picture, and not a body or thing. When a 
 whole nation are of one opinion with regard to anything, we 
 call that principle the spirit of the age, or of the nation. We 
 say, the common schools are upheld by the spirit of the age. 
 
 I know that a great many persons individualize spirits, 
 and think they have seen them. It is said Martin Luther 
 once threw his ink-stand at the devil, and the ink-stand went 
 through the devil, and hit the wall of his room. He threw 
 his ink -stand at a picture; that picture was false, but it did 
 represent a principle. The old man was worried with his 
 enemies and saw their picture, to which his imagination gave 
 the shape of the devil. 
 
 There are many persons who believe in what they call 
 "the operation of the Spirit." This philosophy in one sense 
 is true. When a number of individuals^ all meet together, 
 having concentrated their thoughts -upon devotion by a law 
 of nature, impressions long continued UDon a mental organ 
 will carry the mind in th#t direction, and "sometimes' it will 
 pass out into the broad field of imagination. The operation 
 of the Spirit must be upon or through mental organism. If 
 the impressions are made upon the good organs of the brain 
 the spirit will be good. And if the impressions are made 
 
 11 
 
162 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 upon the bad organs of the brain the manifestations will be 
 that of a bad spirit. 
 
 The Pharisees, a religious sect among the Jews, who 
 flourished immediately before the Christian era, taught the 
 philosophy of the existence of a spirit, or soul, in man, dis- 
 connected and separate from the Lody or mind, and of course 
 must be deaf and dumb, incognito and foolish, this is the 
 darkest picture of all of the dark ages. The word spirit should 
 always be applied to the mind, and never to, the body. 
 Wherever we find mind we find spirit. We never say the 
 spirit of a tree, but we do say, a dull and high-spirited horse, 
 and a dull and high-spirited man. ' When one is dead we say 
 his spirit is gone, or has left the body v It is a clumsy philoso- 
 phy to apply a material body to the 'existence of spirit. What 
 can the Christian say who believes in the resurrection of the 
 body? Will he not, when the spirit body and the human 
 body meet, cry out: "O, wretched spirit that I am, who 
 shall deliver me from these material bodies ?" When the mind 
 is gone the spirit goes with it, and when the mind returns the 
 spirit returns with it. A' spirit separated from the mind is the 
 ghost of superstition ; was born in a dark corner of the field 
 of fear, with reversed eyes — can see in the night, but sleeps 
 in the day ; fed on credulity, lived through the dark ages, and 
 may yet be seen in dark places through the dark glasses of 
 modern spiritualism. When the last dark corner of the hu- 
 man brain becomes illuminated it will bid adieu to the earth 
 forever. 
 
 The meek and lowly Jesus," the great moral Teacher 
 whose standard of morality is truly the best the world ever 
 saw, He who spake as never man spake, used the word spirit 
 only eleven times. Those who wrote his history used it a great 
 many more times. Jesus used it eleven times, that is record- 
 ed in the Scriptures. He used it always in the same, or near- 
 ly the same sense. The first time he used it was in the ser- 
 
PEN PICTURES. 163 
 
 mon on the mount. He said, "Blessed are the poor in 
 spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." The last time 
 he used it was on the cross, when the last mortal wound had. 
 been inflicted. He said, " Father, into thy hands I commend 
 my spirit." 
 
 No. I am mistaken. He used it once after this. You 
 will find it in the last chapter of Luke, commencing at the 
 36th verse. 
 
 His scholars, the apostles, were all together in a certain 
 place, soon after the crucifixion, holding a council on the 
 perils of the times. The Master had been executed, no one 
 could tell the fate of his followers; they were all afraid of the 
 multitude and of public authority. The spirit of persecution 
 was abroad in the land. The germ of Christianity was in 
 that little council, and of this meeting the text reads : "And 
 as they spake Jesus himself stood in the midst of them and 
 saith 'unto them, ' Peace be unto you ,' but they were terri- 
 fied and affrighted, and supposed they had seen a spirit, and 
 he said unto them, 'Why are ye troubled and why do 
 thoughts arise in your hearts ? Behold my hands and my 
 feet, that it is I myself, handle me and see, for a spirit hath 
 not flesh and bones, as you see me have,' and for further 
 proof he did eat before them." 
 
 The idea of a material spirit originated with the Phari- 
 sees. The early Christian writers founded their philosophy 
 on the resurrection of the human body, and this is not in con- 
 flict with the true philosophy of spirit. There is nothing in 
 the wide world, so dear to a Christian, as a Christian's hope. 
 The man who would wantonly disfigure a Christian's hope, 
 would steal the family casket of his grandmother, and dis- 
 figure the fair faces of those who gave him being. The sum 
 of that hope is in the resurrection of the human body; the in- 
 fant form, the darling body, that has been laid beneath the 
 
164 .PEN PICTURES. 
 
 green carpet to sleep, shall be restored again, to the bosom 
 of its mother, in the resurrection of the dead. 
 
 St. Paul said, when speaking* of the Christian's hope, in 
 the eighth chapter of Romans : (i 'We groan within ourselves, 
 waiting for the adoption, to wit : the resurrection of our 
 body.' Josephus, the learned historian of the Jews, in ex- 
 pounding the laws of Moses, uses this language : " Gcd hath 
 made this grant, to those who observe these laws, even though 
 they be obliged to die for them, that they shall come into be- 
 ing again, and at a certain revolution of things receive a bet- 
 ter life, than they had enjoyed before. 
 
 Infidelity, the love of the marvelous, and the hope of 
 gain, are the nest eggs of modern disembodied spirits. The 
 broad and open field of imagination is where the nest was 
 found. Andrew Jackson Davis sat on the eggs. This great 
 apostle of clairvoyance, Som-nam-bu-lisrii, som-nil-o-quence, 
 and all other sleeping beauties of the brain, says on the 
 twenty-first page of his work, entitled, The Principles of Na- 
 ture'. " Seven times I have been requested to explain the na 
 ture and composition of spirit." Then after making some re- 
 marks on the different characters of men, he continues; " Fol- 
 low me through thistinvestigation, and then decide according 
 to the evidence you receive, for, or against the conclusions 
 arrived at." This modest request of Mr. Davis©vas to fol- 
 low him through 782 pages. I followed him, and can best give 
 you my experience by relating an anecdote. 
 
 " During the early settlement of Kentucky, in the infant 
 age of the dark and bloody ground, when our great-grandfa- 
 thers and great-grandmothers were rocked in a sugar trough 
 and the children played around the log-cabin, whicn was adorn- 
 ed with turkey-wings and buck horns, an early settler cleared 
 off five acres of ground, around which he made a new rail 
 fence, so close that a rabbit could not crawl through it. He 
 planted it in corn, and in the early fall while walking 'round 
 
PEN PICTURES. 165 
 
 his field, discovered that hogs had been destroying the crop. 
 He examined every panel of the fence, to find where the brute 
 had entered the field. There was a ravine or natural ditch 
 through the field, and when building the fence across this 
 ravine, a hollow linn log was thrown in, to partly fill up the 
 d'tch, and the fence was placed upon it. Our farmer had a 
 neighbor, who owned a spotted shoat, and if there is a wise 
 hog in the world, you will always find him in the shape of a 
 spotted shoat. This fellow had crawled through the linn log 
 and torn down four times as much corn as twenty hogs could 
 eat, and contrary to hog nature, had crawled out through the 
 same hole that he crawled in. When our farmer discovered the 
 trick, he pulled the fence down off the log and endeavored to 
 remove it, it was a crooked log — like my elbow — and the man 
 succeeded in getting both ends of the log on the outside of the 
 field and replaced the fence upon it. He then left the field, 
 directing his attention to the spotted shoat. When the ani- 
 mal supposed the coast was clear, he cautiously approached 
 the right end of the log and crawled through, coming out on 
 the same side of the fence, when he raised his bristles and 
 trotted off. Hemever went back to that field. 
 
 With the diligence of a hopeful student I waded through 
 782 pages of Mr. Davis' work, and like the spotted shoat, 
 came out on the same side of the fence. 
 
 I spoke in my lecture on Time and Motion, of a great 
 castle, in which allusion was made to the future state of man. 
 This picture has existed among all nations of men. 
 
 " The soul uneasy and confined from home — 
 Rests, and expatiates in a life to come." 
 
 Mr. Davis proclaimed, that this castle was accessible, and 
 beckoned his hearers to follow him. I followed him seven- 
 hundred and eighty-two miles through the brush, it is true 
 there was an occasional wild flower along the path-way. The 
 
166 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 journey was tedious and wearisome, at last the wall of the 
 castle appeared in the distance, I struggled up to the door, 
 Mr. Davis opened it, and I passed through, only to find my- 
 self in the woods on the other side. And Davis at last is 
 compelled to come to the cold naked truth, and acknowledge 
 that the interior of the castle is invisible until you go to sleep. 
 He ought to be called, the sleeping beauty of the nineteenth 
 century. 
 
 The definition of the word medium, is to stand in or 
 about the middle. If an orator offering to address you, stand- 
 ing at so great a distance you could not hear him, and I 
 stood in the middle — between you — repeating what he said, I 
 would be a medium. Thus the spiritual medium, standing 
 on the brink of the dark river, scanning the distant shores, 
 sees, or thinks he sees, the golden edge of the new-born day, 
 and with a cheek that knows no shame, reveals to credulous 
 ears the mysteries of the spirit land. There have been me- 
 diums in all ages of the world. The late revival of spiritual 
 mediums in this country, is eminently calculated to start civil- 
 ization on the back track. 
 
 What is a medium ? Let us dissect him. He is nothing 
 but a bundle of poor humanity, feeds on the same food, 
 breathes the same air and is animated by the same elements 
 that animate all men. Has he not arms, and legs, a face, 
 and a brain? In what is he different from other men? In 
 nothing, but wearing a cheek that knows no shame. 
 
 Let us teach man the power of his own mental faculties, 
 let him hear the voice of freedom it will elevate him above 
 the power of principalities — and devils. The beauties of na- 
 ture, the flowers of reason, the roses of happiness lie in reck- 
 less profusion along his path-way, he must gather them with 
 his own hands. " Let me pluck them for you," is the voice 
 of slavery. When you meet sin and sorrow make no appeal 
 to community, community is as destitute of mercy, as the 
 
PEN PICTURES. 167 
 
 waves of the sea to a sinking ship. If you would ride boldly 
 over the waves of tiouble, you must paddle your own canoe. 
 Every man thinks, or should think for himself. The tide of 
 thought flows as freely as a river of water, it is the water of 
 life, springing up to every man's brain. Oh ! how bitter it is 
 sometimes made from another's cup. 
 
 The life of tke body is a forced state, a state of worry, 
 of care and oft of sorrow and of weeping. 
 
 The life of the spirit comes a volunteer. We have al- 
 ready demonstrated life to be a development that belongs to 
 the vegetable as well as the animal kingdom. The life of 
 the spirit is a mental power eternal in itself pervading the 
 universe. 
 
 The principles of nature are eternal. The power ot the 
 steam engine is a principle — the steam is a thing, the power 
 a principle. 
 
 Honor arises from action, yet honor is a principle. One 
 may have the external appearance of a gentleman, but if we 
 find that he lacks the principle of honor we discard him. 
 The things of nature perish or change form, the principles of 
 failure are eternal. 
 
 The rocks we dig out of the mountain bear indisputable 
 evidence that they once existed in another form. 
 
 The animals exist in the vegetable kingdom, and are de- 
 veloped into bodies of flesh and blood, and perish or change 
 form. " Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return," 
 alludes alone to the body. The spirit never was and never 
 can be dust. 
 
 Smoke rises up because it is lighter than the air; it acted 
 the same way when the first fire was kindled upon the earth, 
 
 I speak to you to-day. My body will perish and return 
 to dust after it has moldered beneath the sod for 2,000 
 ages. The same ideas may be advanced by another man, 
 without any knowledge of me or of my record. The bodies 
 
168 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 of men and their language perish ; but ideas do not perish, 
 because mind is an eternal principle pervading the universe. 
 Spirit is the flower of the mind. Who would have a foolish 
 spirit? We come now to speak of the presence of the spirit 
 in the mind for no philosopher can find spirit in anything else. 
 You see with both eyes alike because you use both alike. Put 
 a bandage over one for a week and you will not be able to see 
 with it at all for a time. What is true of the eye is also true 
 of the other mental organs. Put a bandage over your evil 
 organs and the devil will not enter. Close the door against 
 him and he will go away. 
 
 But, says one, I would do good but evil is present with 
 me. It is hard to rid the mind of that old serpent — the 
 Tempter. 
 
 This reminds me of the Arkansas doubter. There lived 
 a man in the State of Arkansas whom all his neighbors called 
 the doubter. He doubted everything, doubted the existence 
 of the man in the moon. Some said that he doubted public 
 opinion. 
 
 A traveler met the doubter in the road, and addressing 
 him said : 
 
 " Sir, can you tell me where John Smith lives ?" 
 
 The doubter, looked serious, replied " Do you see this 
 bayou?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, this bayou runs west about three miles and then 
 turns and runs south; right at the turn of the bayou there 
 is a bridge ; cross that bridge and you strike a high plain 
 sloping gradually to the west; the road runs across that plain 
 in a west direction ; there are houses on each side cf the road; 
 John Smith may live ino ne of these houses, but I doubt it ' 
 
 " I was not asking for your doubts, I want information." 
 
 "Well cross this plain in a west direction and you come 
 to a large canebrake; pa?s through this e-nebrake and you 
 
PEN PICTURES. 169 
 
 strike a group of low flat hills, thickly settled ; John Smith 
 * may live there, but I doubt it. They say that John Smith 
 lives in all neighborhoods ; strike any settlement, and by dili- 
 gent* inquiry you can find John Smith, -but I doubt it " 
 
 "Go to the devil with your doubts," said the man, and 
 . started on. 
 
 "Hold on, stranger, I can tell you where John Smith 
 does live. He lives in his own house, and if you can find 
 that house, you will find where John Smith lives." 
 
 I am like the Arkansas doubter. You may go to church 
 in search of a good spirit and you may find it there, but I 
 doubt it. You may unfold the pages of ancient history in 
 search of a good spirit, and you may find it there, but I 
 doubt it. Hold, reader, I can tell you where you can find 
 it — in its own house. Clear the rubbish out of your own 
 brain ; quit- all of your bad conduct; prepare the residence 
 for a good spirit, and it will come and dwell with you. 
 
 But, says one, morality is dead without religion. With 
 profound regard for the religious schools of the day, I criti- 
 cise this declaration. Morality comes strictly within the pale 
 of mental philosophy, because it is the result of mental or- 
 ganism. The ancient definition of the word religion was to 
 bind together. Our country and all other countries are full of 
 churches and clergymen. They all teach religion. They all 
 bind their own people together and leave humanity as wide 
 apart as the poles. Morality is as broad as the earth, and 
 beautiful as the unfolded heavens. The majestic idea of the 
 word can march through the church and the state house ; can 
 enter the dark prison and comfort the lowly and down-trod- 
 den ; can travel without a passport among all nations, and 
 through all countries ; can be spoken in every language and 
 treasured in every heart. I would like to see all men every- 
 where religious \ but religion without morality is like a bird 
 sitting on marbles — marbles never hatch. Associations cf 
 
170 PEN PICTURES 
 
 rner- who have bound themselves together and claim exclu- # 
 sive jurisdiction uver the great spirit should not crjdfy mo- 
 rality It comes like ihe amid teacher who appeared in Pales- 
 tine io strengthen the weak and bind up the broken-hearted. 
 
 When 1 hear a man say that morality is dead without re- 
 ligion 1 think of that mild passage in the history of Jesus 
 when his apostles came to him and said, "Master, we saw 
 one casting out devils in thy name who did not follow us and 
 we forbade him." 
 
 I think of the old Jews who supposed themselves in pos- 
 session of all the genuine religion that was in the world, when 
 justice would nave released Jesus. They cried aloud to Pon- 
 tius Pilate, "crucify him ! crucify him ! let his blood be upon 
 us and upon our children." Individuality crucified morality. 
 
 Individuality is the rock upon which all theologians split. 
 It has scattered the Christian church into more than 6co de- 
 nominations, and throughout the globe the future state has 
 been fitted to the human passions. Who can individualize 
 the mind? a bundle of passions, desires, hopes and fears. 
 Who can individualize spirit ? We hope to meet our friends 
 in the spirit land, but we do not hope to meet all of their 
 individual passions. When we see outside of individuality 
 we will be no longer individuals. 
 
 « While man lives upon the earth he has a local habitation 
 and a name. When he crosses the dark river he is borne 
 away on the wide wings of hope through the stars and space. 
 Deo favente ad infinitum. 
 
 Individuality is human and peculiar to humanity, in 
 proof of which I appeal to the history of the old Jewish 
 prophets. All will agree that they were animated by the 
 same spirit, yet we find as much difference between them as 
 we find in any other class of men. Some of them dwelt 
 upon the sublime and beautiful others spoke continually of 
 weeping and sorrow. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 171 
 
 And the clergymen of our day speak according to their 
 mental organism. Some of them are a hard-hearted race of 
 men, for they speak continually of future torments. Others, 
 more congenial, speak of the beauties of the universe and 
 incomprehensible works of God. Some lead their congrega- 
 tions with a golden cord of love, others drive them with 
 whips of scorpions. They all see by the same light and are 
 animated by the same spirit. Where, then, is the great 
 spiritual difference ? Is it not in their mental organism ? We 
 see the same difference in their congregations. They are all 
 taught by the same clergyman, attend the same church and 
 claim the same reward. 
 
 Try them on a case of charity; some of them would 
 not give the sunny side of a stump to a frozen beggar, others 
 give even to the undeserving. 
 
 All of them do act according to their mental organism. 
 Talk about the spirit ! The character of the spirit is always 
 determined by the material with which it comes in contact, 
 A man is a good or a bad man upon the basis of his mental 
 organism. 
 
 Behold the ancient pyramids of distant days ; contem- 
 plate the magnificent temples of succeeding ages, and all the 
 buildings erected for devotion. They stand as silent as the 
 dead material of which they are composed. The human 
 brain is the great spiritual temple of humanity. It is holy 
 ground, consecrated by the unseen hand, upon which every 
 mother in the world can rear the spiritual edifice of her 
 children, though it be upon a puncheon floor inclosed with 
 the rude logs of her native land. 
 
 Daniel said to Belshazzar, when he read the hand-writing 
 on the wall : "Thou art weighed in the balances, and found 
 wanting; thy kingdom is divided, and given to the Medes 
 and Persians." No one believes that the king's body had 
 been weighed in a pair of scales and found wanting in avoir- 
 
172 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 dupois weight. The most refined results of the human mind 
 have received a name, and that name is ho?wr. The king's 
 honor had been weighed and found wanting. Belshazzar 
 was not a Jew, nor did he observe the Jewish ritual. 
 
 Now, I appeal to this assembly ; you all have friends and 
 associates, some of them you would trust with your money — 
 you would trust them with your lives — others you would not 
 trust with a pair of skates, because you have weighed their 
 honor in your balances and found it wanting. The language 
 of men, in their associations, rites, ceremonies and professions, 
 in all ages or countries, perish or change form. But if they 
 possess the principle of honor, it is imperishable. You may 
 steal my money, burn my house and tarnish my goods; but, 
 Oh God, save me from the dark assassin who would unjustly 
 tarnish my honor ! 
 
 Go wkh me to an ancient castle Its glory lies moldering 
 in the dust — upon its features the hand of fate has dealt 
 relentless ruin. The stream of time has left it away back in 
 the dusky age. Slightly beneath the crumbling rubbish we 
 find a coat; take it up, examine it, it may have been worn 
 by the founder of the Chaldean empire or him who laid the 
 foundation stone of a pyramid in Egypt. Stamped with the 
 shape of humanity, we know it once covered a man ; nothing 
 more does it reveal— poor, poor, dumb garment. 
 
 Look ! here is the man himself— or rather the body — 
 wonderfully preserved from the fate of decay. The lips are 
 beautiful as ever. — Speak ! tell thy ancient rights and fervent 
 prayers— they are as silent as the senseless rubbish clustered 
 'round their moldering form ; whatever sounds they may have 
 once uttered, whatever words they may have once spoken, 
 like the coat the body was nothing but the garment that 
 covered the true seed of honor. 
 
 One more picture and the curtain falls. 
 
 The pictures of the men of progress, put in a frame 
 
PEN PICTURES 
 
 17 i 
 
 together, are being hung up in our parlors. "But," says 
 one, " that is Infidelity— better preserve the pictures of the 
 holy men of old." That is the individuality of poor human 
 nature, that said morality is dead without religion— it is the 
 same man who said there is a conflict between science and 
 revelation. 
 
 There is no conflict between true science and true revela- 
 tion. Any problem that does not prove itself is no science. 
 Twice two are four — figures are a science because they prove 
 themselves. Astronomy demonstrates the course of the 
 planets, and their contact in eclipse one with another before 
 it takes place; and geology, and all other sciences worthy 
 of the name, prove themselves. And what is revelation ? 
 There is no power in the universe that can reveal ignorance. 
 To reveal is to uncover, to make known, to give the light of 
 knowledge; and anything that is not made known is not 
 revealed. 
 
 Standing under the mantle of charity, we witness a great 
 conflict of human faith— and no wonder, faith is not a science 
 or revelation. Faith is a feature of education, and applies 
 only to conditions— for all nations agree to the great problem 
 of a future life. The spirit of liberty guarantees to every 
 man his own faith. It is a pure philanthrophy and a noble 
 philosophy that consecrates every man's faith upon the altar 
 of Charity, a beautiful and blindfolded goddess, who is bear- 
 ing millions of our race, of all nations and countries, on the 
 wide wings of hope, to eternity in a local spot : a heaven 
 adorned with precious stones and paved with gold ; a baby- 
 house of the soul of ignorance and picture of the dark ages. 
 
 I endeavored, in my lecture on Time and Motion, to 
 unfold the infinity of the universe, space without limit, worlds 
 without end. Time and motion belong to the planets, the 
 planets belong to space. God and eternity are everywhere. 
 The spirit of intellect pervades the universe, and animates 
 
174 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 the soul of man here, hereafter and forever. It does not en- 
 ter the tomb — the grave, and all the powers of darkness, do 
 not bind it. The armies of death perish at its feet. It sur- 
 vives the revolution of planets and the wreck of worlds ; per- 
 vades the incomprehensible circle of space intwined in the 
 arms of destiny. 
 
GENIUS AND POETRY. 
 
 GENIUS. 
 
 [In ancient fable an old man of venerable aspect and silver beard, 
 unlike other heathen gods, he ruled no particular passion or element, 
 but loaned a helping hand to all, the Poet, Author, Architect, Teach- 
 er, Navigator, Statesman, Orator, Theologian, General in the field 
 and all others, even in the simplest avocations of life may consult 
 him to advantage.] 
 
 He lives not in a sealed house, 
 He dwells in the open air, 
 He is not found in robes of wealth, 
 Neither bound up in classic schools. 
 
 He lives in the wind, and rides on the breeze 
 Dwells in the forest and tenants the trees. 
 
 O ! tell me where and when 
 True Genius comes to men ? 
 
 In easy seat or cushion chair, 
 
 He never comes to hear your prayer. 
 
 In ease of body or of mind, 
 
 No mortal can true Genius find. 
 
 Faithful to all — and ever true — 
 
 Work, work! and he will work with you; 
 
 Work at what you can truly do, 
 
 And he will come and work with you. 
 
 His art is work, his heart is brave, 
 
 He loves the free, and hates the slave, 
 
 He lives with all who soar above — 
 
 Pure as light, and gentle as love. 
 
176 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 MY NATIVE LAND. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO VOUXG AMERICA. 
 
 In ages past — almost obscure, 
 
 We trace the germs of liberty, 
 
 For ancient Greece in days of yore, 
 
 Emerging from obscurity, 
 
 Gave birth to men who lived to love, 
 
 And all their love was liberty. 
 
 Crushed to earth by tyrant heel, 
 
 Long ages slept in lethargy, 
 
 Aroused to meet the foeman's steel. 
 
 And in the name of liberty, 
 
 Fought fresh battles on the field 
 
 Of young and brave America. 
 
 Our fathers fought and bravely died, 
 
 When death would pay off tyranny ; 
 
 They met the foemen side by side, 
 
 And fought to win our liberty. 
 
 The grateful heart adores the name 
 
 They won for their posterity; 
 
 On land, on sea 'tis all the same, 
 
 The watchword is "Our Liberty.'' 
 
 For teeming lands and homes made dear, 
 
 By all the ties of purity, 
 
 They held the claim without a fear, 
 
 And still they fought for liberty. 
 
 With their brave blood, as pure as light, 
 
 And free from the germs of tyranny, 
 
 The last brave call heard in the fight, 
 
 Was, leave to us " Our Liberty." 
 
 A playful boy accosted me, 
 
 With words of wisdom — I may say. 
 
PEN PICTURES. !T7 
 
 For lads that climb an apple tree, 
 
 His name was Young America. 
 
 With golden locks and ruddy cheeks, 
 
 He spoke in plaintive tones, so mild, 
 
 The loving heart must ever seek, 
 
 The memory of the growing child. 
 
 In every State, so broad and fair, 
 
 The little boys triumphant stand, 
 
 And I must tell you, that they are 
 
 The glory of my native land. 
 
 He spoke of Congress, and the men 
 
 Who represent the present age, 
 
 The heroes of the sword and pen, 
 
 The soldier, and the stately sage. 
 
 He spoke of time, long in the past, 
 
 When clubs and sticks were used by men, 
 
 But now we travel on so fast, 
 
 We only need to use the pen. 
 
 He spoke of Justice, with her scales 
 
 Suspended from her legal hand, 
 
 Stamped on my heart, with plaintive tales, 
 
 The glory of my native land. 
 
 He spoke of all our history past, 
 
 And then he wav'd his little hand; 
 
 I saw in him — from first to last, 
 
 The glory of my native lam?. 
 
 His name is one — to all the same, 
 
 He stood where all the boys must stand, 
 
 And to the busy world proclaim 
 
 The glory of their native land. 
 
 To him I spoke, in kind and loving words, 
 Roam through the woods and hear the singing birds , 
 Be just to all, and ever justice love. 
 12 
 
178 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Steal not the sweet little eggs of a dove* 
 
 Be just to birds, for justice first began 
 
 In the wild woods, with primitive man ; 
 
 Be bold in thought, be bold in action too, 
 
 Be bold in justice, and in virtue true. 
 
 Be true to thyself, be just when you pray, 
 
 As just in the week as on the Lord's day; 
 
 Of all the problems ponder d o'er so long, 
 
 It is the living test of right and wrong. 
 
 Boys who never steal an egg, or drink a dram, 
 
 Make men who never swindle Uncle Sam. 
 
 A flower planted in the youthful mind, 
 
 Full-blown manhood never fails to find. 
 
 The stings of wrong, that with the boy began, 
 
 Will follow up his growth and sting the man. 
 
 Then with a gentle pressure of the hand, 
 
 Casting o'er the broad and beautiful land. ■* 
 
 The old, the honest are passing swiftly away, 
 
 The men of the future are the boys of to-day. 
 
 The learn'd, and the wise, the good and the brave. 
 
 Are passing away and filling the grave. 
 
 If examples were blank, no mortal could see, 
 
 What the rising generation would be. 
 
 Men make boys, and boys make men, good or bad, 
 
 The mold is cast — and finished with the lad. 
 
 This great country — hills and plains, lakes and boys, 
 
 Iron arms, long rivers, its hopes and joys ; 
 
 From sea to sea, beneath a genial sun, 
 
 Great in extent, in union, one. 
 
 For you the struggling past has lived to save, 
 
 The land of the free, and home of the brave. 
 
 To you transmitted with a generous hand, 
 
 Treasures of a broad and beautiful land, 
 
 And you with a fond helpmate by your side, 
 
PEN PICTURES. 179 
 
 May blend sweet home with a national pride. 
 
 The rivers, and lakes, the towns, and the lands, 
 
 Will soon be transmitted to your hands ; 
 
 The sacred records, and government too, 
 
 Will also be transmitted to you. 
 
 Old fate is coming with her magic wand, 
 
 Peering all through this beautiful land, 
 
 And whether in search of the sword or the pen, 
 
 Will seldom mistake representative men. 
 
 Be just, and true, and never be too late, 
 
 Having no fears of fortune, or of fate ; 
 
 Work for the right and never be afraid, 
 
 The right is at par, and is always paid. 
 
 Work with the brain, and work with the hand, 
 
 Work for the right, work for your native land. 
 
 Live with the just, and die with the brave, 
 And flowers of fame will bloom o'er your grave. 
 Think for yourself— mold your thought refined, 
 Treasure in the brain jewels of the mind; 
 For men have thought before, and thought sublime, 
 Through all the busy world before your time ; 
 Unfolded worlds from Diamonds in the sky, 
 Scan'd endless space with artificial eye. 
 Gave life to words, and talk'd across the sea, 
 Released the slave, the human mind is free, 
 Free to think in every shape, and form, 
 To raise the wind and to calm the storm. 
 
180 
 
 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 RISE AND FALL OF OLD NICK. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO THE DEVIL. 
 
 Come Beelzebub, thou sneaking ape of time, 
 
 Conceived in sin, and born in open crime; 
 
 Transgressing the law — long years ago, 
 
 The charges are made, stern justice must know, 
 
 What pleadings are brought to lie in the court, 
 
 Guilty, or not guilty you must report. 
 
 The judges are waiting, anxious to know, 
 
 What you will plead, with whom you will go. 
 
 Come honestly up and answer the suit, 
 
 Charged with tasting forbidden fruit ; 
 
 You fled from the garden — in shape a snake, 
 
 Determined to capture all you could take. 
 
 Afraid of the light, slip'd through the dark, 
 
 Crossed over the flood, outside of the ark; 
 
 Afflicted old Job, and strip' d of his wealth, 
 
 Entered his flesh and poisoned his health. 
 
 From the land of Uz you followed the Jews, 
 
 From tribe to tribe you carried the news, 
 
 Stood at the altar, and wrote with the Scribes, 
 
 To the king of Persia you gave ten tribes. 
 
 Grew handsomely large, and strong by degrees, 
 
 Your form was changed by the Pharisees. 
 
 In Babylonian captivity — 
 
 Your serpent form lack'd activity, 
 
 The Pharisees first gave you legs and feet, 
 
 With dragon head they made your form complete. 
 
 To travel ' round the world, o'er hill and bog, 
 
 Followed by the three-headed Grecian dog. 
 
 Then with Jew and Greek, sneaking through the land, 
 
 To show the wicked world how Devils stand, 
 
PEN PICTURES. 181 
 
 Deceiving them all with wonderful ease 
 
 By scouting the faith of the Sadducees, 
 
 Then tempting the Good, for forty long days, 
 
 Threw up the sponge, and spoke in his praise. 
 
 Rebuked by the Good, you enter'd the swine, 
 
 Persuading some men to root in that line. 
 
 Last seen by Michael, as he supposes, 
 
 Claiming the bones and body of Moses. 
 
 Next seen by St. John, revealing your reign, 
 
 Lamenting your fate, and bound with a cha'n, 
 
 Accused by the just, and judged by your peers, 
 
 Was banished from the Jews a thousand years. 
 
 Forsaking these men, and leaving their home, 
 
 Prospected with Greeks — and settled at Rome, 
 
 Spread with the faithful all over the grove, 
 
 Stripping all men as you stripped old Job. 
 
 The charges in short, summed up in brief, 
 
 All men call you a liar and a thief. 
 
 With charges so grave, and granted -fair play, 
 
 In defense of your.self, what can you say ? 
 
 The Devil rose up, and shaking his mane, 
 
 Opened his mouth in eloquent strain, 
 
 With sparks in Mis eyes, and tongue rolling 'round, 
 
 With feet wide apart, and tail on the ground, 
 
 Rattled his hoofs, no longer a snake, 
 
 Hell-d up his head, and boldly he spake — 
 
 66 As thin as the air, and still as the grave, 
 
 I live with the bad, and work with the knave, 
 
 Molding the mean, and greeting the grand, 
 
 I'm passing through each house in the land, 
 
 Forsaking the wise, I stay with the fool, 
 
 No charges are made, I keep a free school, 
 
 Eat without bread, and fatten on a fuss, 
 
 Abandon the dead, as useless to us — 
 
182 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 The living are mine, and all I can get, 
 
 Are handsomely taken in their own net. 
 
 My traps are set, both early and late, 
 
 Credulous game is caught without bait. 
 
 The field is broad, and wide as the earth — 
 
 To credulous game, all classes give birth. 
 
 I'm sure to be sought, by the mean and low, 
 
 The rich and the proud will come to the show. 
 
 In castle and cot, the great and the small, 
 
 Aside from»the light, will give me a call. 
 
 Bad men follow me, wherever I go — 
 
 Begging me out of all that I know, 
 
 My thoughts are quick, and given at a stroke, 
 
 Are easy to learn when under the yoke, 
 
 Coasting the sea, and all over the land, 
 
 I meet with men to take by the hand, 
 
 Restless and rude, for I never was kind, 
 
 Though lost to the good, I'm not hard to find. 
 
 I pass by the good, the just I abhor, 
 
 Have constantly kept all nations at war. 
 
 Have wrote with the learn'd, embellished the pages 
 
 By stratagems sought — have darken'd all ages, 
 
 Have bound to the stake, and hung with the rope, 
 
 Slept with the queen, and dined with the Pope, 
 
 Familiar with abuse and lost to all shame, 
 
 Hopeless of life, I am nothing but a ?iame. 
 
 A wonderful name, all over the earth, 
 
 The passions of men, have given me birth, 
 
 The passions are good, when properly used, 
 
 The Devil comes in to see them abused. 
 
 When passions are found, the force of the mind, 
 
 The Devil himself, you never will find. 
 
 Remember these words, a wise man said. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 183 
 
 'The Devil is not in a good man's head,' 
 I'm vanishing now, out of your sight, 
 Gentlemen all, I bid you good night. " 
 
 THE CONFEDERATE FLAG. 
 
 [The following poetic address was preserved by u rebei woman, 
 and is inserted for the benefit ot those who did not witness the wai 
 spirit in Missouri in 1861. The rebel ladies of Hattsburg manuiao 
 tured a very fine confederate flag, intended for the company of Cap* 
 tain Crumlow, who were upon the eve of starting to join the amy 
 of General Sterling Price. A formal presentation was arranged— the 
 company and a large number of citizens assembled at the Plattsburg 
 College. A person whose name and address was not preserved, pre- 
 sented the flag in the name of the ladies. Captain Crumlow requested 
 your orator to receive the flag in behalf of the company with a suit- 
 able response. Your orator received the flag, and holding it in' his 
 right hand, partly unfurled, returned the following response :j- 
 
 LADIES. 
 
 Should blood and carnage fill the land a 
 And cities and towns no longer stand; 
 Should conquer'd courage gasp for breath; 
 And your defenders, lie coid in death — 
 Butcher'd and mangled on the field, 
 No arm be left, this banner to shielc 1 ; 
 Take up its folds, with tender hands, 
 And on the ground where virtue stands, 
 Trust in God, and consecrate 
 This banner to their mortal fate. 
 But, no such scene will ever stain 
 The coral of the human brain. 
 Mars may forge infernal rods, 
 
184 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 And Northmen dream of coal black gods ; 
 These lords will fail to come to time, 
 For Northmen in a southern clime. 
 Our country lies, both far and wide, 
 And in it dwells a native pride 
 No hand can conquer or subdue, 
 While held by such a brace as you. 
 In Crumlow's men you place your trust — 
 They'll bear this flag above the dust. 
 
 As»the flag was handed to the standard-bearer of the company, 
 Gen. D. R. Atchison, Ex-Senator of the United States, appeared on 
 the stage to congratulate the speaker. Citizens threw up their hats r 
 and ladies waved their 'kerchiefs in applause, while the company 
 marched off with the banner thrown to the breeze, followed by run- 
 ning boys and idle negroes. A picture fitly representing the brave 
 heroism with which Price's army went through the first year of the 
 war. 
 
 FAMILY AND FATE. 
 
 ADDRESS TO A FEMALE RELATION. 
 
 You must nOt think the cares of life with me 
 Are smooth, and placid as a summer sea. 
 The joyous days, one by one revealed, 
 Turn fresh trouble long, long concealed ■ 
 Gray locks of time adorn the aching brow 
 Unfinished work drags heavy now. 
 
 While on we march, in one continuous flood, 
 I'm but a drop of the commingled blood ; 
 Homogeneous with the family name. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 
 
 185 
 
 Preserving kindred ties and family fame; 
 So long, slowly wise and darkly great, 
 No stores of wit or large estate 
 To deck their graves or write their fate. 
 
 Meekly have I lived, and with the poor must die, 
 No stone to mark the ground where I must lie ; 
 Sunk with the motley herd of human kind, 
 No trace that once I lived to leave behind ; 
 A mound of earth alone remains with me — 
 -Tis all I ask, and all the proud can be. 
 
 When time shall cool my blood and steal my breath, 
 
 When life shall reach the silent shade of death, 
 
 When the cold, damp clods cluster 'round my head. 
 
 Earth to earth, sweet sister, will I be dead ? 
 
 In this dark dream of death's long silent sleep, 
 
 I pray my niece these hopeful lines to keep c 
 
 Poor tired soul, humble and forgiving, 
 
 Without future hope, life ain't worth living. 
 
 Death is but a name magnified by fear, 
 
 The living elements that disappear 
 
 With nature's soft hand, are forever here. 
 
 In these elements the hope of heaven, 
 
 A living hope by kind nature given. 
 
 Come, genius, come, tune thy living song 
 To 'muse the merry world while I sleep so long ; 
 Sleep not with me — act with the living throng ; 
 Cheer up sad times with merry heart and head — 
 Lie not entombed, but resurrect the dead. 
 
 Dark mantled fear, with his bow and quiver, 
 Stands on the brink of death's dark river; 
 The shield of antiquity covers his head — 
 He shoots at the living, not at the dead : 
 
186 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Through trembling faith his fleeting arrows run, 
 Inflicting a thousand deaths instead of one. 
 When in future bliss, or in hopeful prayer. 
 No mortal ken can see just what we are. 
 
 God gives the mind to us as free as air : 
 Life lies in action and is everywhere ; 
 Above, below, around, through endless space, 
 Life, mind and light fill every friendly place. 
 Darkness and death, obscure to human sight, 
 Can only remain where there is no light. 
 Life, mind and light, eternai in the skies, 
 Solace of the weak and soui of the wise — 
 Light never was dark, and life never dies, 
 
 Through endless space the thoughtful man can pierce, 
 
 L T ntarnished mind pervades the universe. 
 
 Shall the dark, silent tomb, with bolts and bars, 
 
 Imprison mind that travels through the stars ? 
 
 Shall ponderous matter, nature's body, find 
 
 Dominion over active, thinking mind? 
 
 Men do not perish with their flesh and bones, 
 
 Or cease to be, when they have ceased their groans. 
 
 For flesh and bones are not the man defined — 
 
 Strange elements of a different kind, 
 
 Reveal the man as they reveal the mind. 
 
 The brain is not the mind, as some suppose; 
 
 We see it there, but know not where it goes. 
 
 Spirit, soul, apparition, thought refined, 
 
 High, deep, quick, endless — Oh God ! what is mind ? 
 
 It moves my hand, molds my measured verse, 
 
 Moves everything, pervades the universe. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 187 
 
 TWILIGHT. 
 
 INTERMEDIATE BODY AND SOUL. 
 
 The rainbow hooped the eastern sky, 
 The melting clouds passed softly by, 
 The sun had sunk behind the trees — 
 Twilight hung on the western breeze. 
 The earth rolled on with day and night; 
 But who shall claim the soft twilight ? 
 Retreating light, cast on the ground, 
 Made cottage-homes a scene profound. 
 The plowman left his furrowed field, 
 The light of day just half concealed. 
 The house-wife spread her generous board, 
 Received her mate and blessed the Lord. 
 The rivers waved in calm delight 
 Beneath the silent shades of night; 
 Spirits, concealed by grave-yard stones, 
 Silently sleep with dead men's bones; 
 The moving earth dark robes unfurled, 
 And sleep subdued just half the world; 
 The iron tongue of time had told 
 That dreary night was growing old; 
 Aurora ope'd her wakeful eye, 
 Twilight dawned in the eastern sky 5 
 The day of life must also close, 
 The night of death no mortal knows; 
 Let all men view in calm delight 
 The evening shade of life's twilight, 
 When full of years and honors too, 
 The evening brings solace to you; 
 Departing day will bid farewell, 
 When twilight comes no tongue can tell — ■ 
 
188 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 So, calm and thoughtful, let us see 
 What twilight brings to you and me ; 
 A scene behind and one before — 
 Between two worlds, Oh ! mind explore 
 Boundless realms and endless space, 
 See time and fate stand face to face. 
 The night of death, so cold and dark, 
 The faith we have is but a spark 
 Of living light in every breast, 
 The rich and poor will all be blest. 
 The busy day of human life, 
 When time is full of peace and strife, 
 With scenes behind and hope before, 
 The rich forget the needy poor. 
 Beyond the earth no poor are found, 
 If there we tread on holy ground, 
 The poor are rich, the good are great, 
 In coming to the future state. 
 When twilight comes the sun has set, 
 The earth recedes, and we have met 
 Where light and shade obscure the sight, 
 'Twixt life and death we see twilight. 
 
 THE DEVIL AND TOM WALKER. 
 
 Kentucky, the home of Clay, Crittenden, Marshall, Prentice, 
 and other men of distinction, was also the home of one Thomas Wal- 
 ker, who, by circumstances and the trials of the times, gave his name 
 to history. Living near Frankford, it was in that city, that he ap- 
 peared as a hero, playing the fiddle and drinking whisky. 
 
 Tom was well advanced in years, when the Rev. William Miller, 
 from a close scrutiny of the prophecies of the Old Testament, predic- 
 
PEN PICTURES ISO 
 
 ted the end of the world in 1843. Whatever may have been Tom's 
 good or bad qualities, he was a confirmed Millerite. One day in 
 Frankford, as the dissolution drew near, Tom to drown fear, indulged 
 immoderately in intoxicating drinks, and while he was in a stupefied 
 and senseless condition, a party of Frankford boys, from eight to 
 twelve years of age, just emerging into the bright paths of youth, and 
 of course, heedless of the approaching dissolution of the globe ; had 
 by some means obtained possession of a large raw hide. Upon this they 
 carefully placed Tom's body and carried it to the suburbs of the city, 
 and there stretching Tom upon the ground, carefully covered him with 
 the raw hide, and then placing upon him a large pile of straw set it on 
 fire. 
 
 In the meantime, Tom had dreamt the world was ended, and 
 himself arrived in the infernal regions. The heat of the fire had 
 aroused Tom from his lethargy, imagination completed the picture, 
 and Tom rushing out from the flames, with burning straw streaming 
 from his person, cried at the top of his voice: " The Devil and Tom 
 Walker." From this circumstance " The Devil and Tom Walker," 
 became a by-word or slang phrase in Kentucky. Tom afterward 
 joined a temperance society and became a sober man. 
 
 In the following poem he is chosen to personate temperance and 
 virtue, while the Devil personates vice and crime. 
 
 The Devil and Tom Walker one afternoon, 
 
 A solemn subject profoundly- discussed; 
 The Devil was anxious to keep a saloon, 
 
 If to him, his grace could honestly trust. 
 Tom Walker affirmed, " the business was bad." 
 
 The Devil stood up and curtly replied : 
 "Idle men everywhere, would surely be glad, 
 
 If the business could be honestly tried." 
 Tom Walker said : " The history of the past, 
 
 Recorded saloons, as they have bursted, 
 A notable thing from first to last — 
 
 Honesty, has always been worsted." 
 "A necessary evil," said the Devil, 
 
 "In every age, and in every clime; 
 
190 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Therefore bad men can surely be civil, 
 
 When dissembling will cover a crime." 
 Tom Walker said: " Vice is not necessary, 
 
 Though Spirits and Demons may pretend*— 
 To mix them up from June to January, 
 
 Their vice and virtue never will blind. 
 That evils are necessary, some have told, 
 
 Inducing the thoughtless to believe ; 
 Because the problem is ancient, and old, 
 
 And well calculated to deceive." 
 The Devil conceded the point to Tom, 
 
 But said to himself: " The will is the way, 
 The club-house will gather some custom, 
 
 And in it, I can gather some pay. 
 Idle men drink, and idle men fight, 
 
 Idle men fuss, and idle men tight — 
 Sleep through the day, and fuss all night. 
 
 Virtue may fade, but the dollar is bright, 
 Eyes go blind, when the dollar's in sight. 
 
 Vice lives in the dark, and flees from the light, 
 Gives virtue the dodge, and justice the blight ; 
 
 If Tom is wrong, the Devil is right." 
 Changing his tone, the Devil contended; 
 
 11 Bad men love justice as well as the good, 
 And justice will swear they have defended, 
 
 The cause of the bad as well as the good." 
 ' ' You argue your case exceedingly well, 
 
 Guarding the points, to meet Tom Walker • 
 Carry some justice to the gates of hell, 
 
 To hear the sound of a smooth talker." 
 1 ' Older than the State, stronger than the wise, 
 
 You live at the root of the government ; 
 True men everywhere must open their eyes, 
 
 Or quietly suffer the punishment." 
 
PEN PICTURES. 
 
 '" Ashamed of your trade, you live in the dark, 
 
 Borrow the cloak of some other game ; 
 Put on the dog make other trades bark, 
 
 Sounding your business in some other name.'' 
 " The patriarch Noah planted the vine, 
 
 His household joined to gather the grape ; 
 He also drank his fill of the wine, 
 
 If the Devil caught Noah, who can escape ? " 
 Tom Walker may plead, and Tom may talk, 
 
 The Devil takes notes to feather his nest, 
 Can silently go, where Tom can't walk, 
 
 Give two in the game and play for the rest. 
 The Devil has played for long ages past, 
 
 A winning game on all classes of men ; 
 Detected by Tom, checkmated at last, 
 
 By subscribing his game with ink and pen. 
 Who, like the Devil would ruin the right, 
 
 By blighting the young with still-worm food ? 
 Live in the dark, and darken the light, 
 
 Drink lager beer and call the stuff good. 
 How darker than dreary night it is, 
 
 To all who drink destructive wine ; 
 The Devil is sure to claim for his, 
 
 The sunny side of virtue's line. 
 Tom Walker lived to see the vision end, 
 
 Through burning straw an awful sight - f 
 The Devil to him a faithless friend, 
 
 And all who live to learn him right. 
 Shades of the dead and the Devil's dark light, 
 
 Tom Walker no more, nor Devil in sight ; 
 Cut loose from the wine, and never get tight. 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen good night — good night ! 
 
 191 
 
1^'- PEN PICTURES. 
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL SNOW. 
 
 AN EMBLEM OF VIRTUE. 
 
 Rainbow of thought, in the poet's soft eye, 
 Encircle the mind with beautiful sky; 
 To speak of the pure virtues of earth, 
 The beautiful thoughts, emblems give birth, 
 Nothing on earth that's treasur'd below 
 Is half so pure as beautiful snow. 
 
 God clothed the earth with air and water, 
 Eve, the first fair and beautiful daughter, 
 Transmitted to her descending race 
 Angelic form, and beautiful face ; 
 And purity too, each gallant should know, 
 As pure and stainless as beautiful snow. 
 
 Let me say to each descending daughter, 
 Cling to the emblem of air and water ; 
 God save the daughter, pure and fair, 
 Beauty, blended with water and air, 
 The treasures of earth honored below 
 Girls are as pure as beautiful snow. 
 
 Let nature's demands defiantly hold 
 Sinful indulgence, and offers of gold. 
 Sensitive as the blushing young daughter 
 Are flowers of spring sighing for water ; 
 Sin's dark hand slightly touch'd will show, 
 Corruption's mark in beautiful snow. 
 
 The power of state or pride of sage 
 In all of the past, or a future age, 
 Will never surpass the emblem so fair. 
 Made by the blending. of water and air; 
 
PEN PICTURES. 
 
 No treasure on earth that woman can show 
 Will capture the heart like beautiful snow. 
 
 The love of display and treasures of gold 
 In markets of shame, where virtue is sold. 
 Worthless emblem, Oh ! beautiful daughter, 
 Cling to the emblem of air and water 
 Cast in your bosom, in order to show, 
 Your purity, like the beautiful snow. 
 
 Wisdom's bright eye may delinquently trace 
 The lines of the form, and beauties of face ; 
 Perfection may claim, that nature has made 
 A blushing young rose in beautiful shade ; 
 As worthless as chaft the daughter may go, 
 Whose virtue's not like beautiful snow. 
 
 Cast in the dark by a fatal mistake, 
 From beautiful snow no mortal can take, 
 The stain of the crime, and leave you as fair 
 As the emblem made of water and air. 
 Beautiful daughter, as onward you go, 
 Always remember the beautiful snow. 
 
 193 
 
 BEAUTIFUL SNOW. 
 
 The following, beautiful poem, was written by a woman in St. 
 Louis many years ago, and was published in the newspapers at the 
 time. From it your orator received the idea of writing w The Beauti- 
 ful Snow." Thinking the old poem worthy of preservation, it is here 
 printed in its original form. 
 
 Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow, 
 Filling the sky and the earth below ; 
 
194 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Over the house-top, over the street, 
 Over the heads of the people you meet, 
 
 Dancing, 
 
 Flirting, 
 
 Skimming along,. 
 Beautiful snow, it can do nothing wrong ; 
 Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek, 
 Clinging to lips in a frolicsome freak ; 
 Beautiful snow from the heaven above, 
 Pure as an angel, gentle as love. 
 
 Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow, 
 How the flakes gather and laugh as they go 
 Whirling about in their maddening fun — 
 It plays in its glee with every one — 
 
 Chasing, 
 
 Laughing, 
 
 Hurrying by, 
 It lights on the face, and it sparkles the eye, 
 And the dogs, with a bark and a bound, 
 Snap at the crystals that eddy around — 
 The town is alive and its heart is aglow, 
 To welcome the coming of beautiful snow. 
 
 How widely the crowd goes swaying along, 
 Hailing each other with humor and song; 
 How the gay sledges like meteors flash by, 
 Bright for a moment, then lost to the eye ; 
 
 Ringing, 
 
 Swinging, 
 
 Dashing they go, 
 Over the crust ot the beautiful snow — 
 Snow so pure when it falls from the sky, 
 As to make one regret to see it lie 
 
PEN PICTURES. 195 
 
 To be trampled and tracked by thousands of feet, 
 Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street. 
 
 Once I was as pure as the snow, but I fell — 
 Fell like the snowrlakes from heaven to hell; 
 Fell to be trampled as filth in the street ; 
 Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on and beat ; 
 
 Pleading, 
 
 Cursing, 
 
 Dreading to die, 
 Selling my soul to whosoever would buy ; 
 Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread; 
 Hating the living, fearing the dead. 
 Merciful God! Have I fallen so low? 
 And yet I was once like the beautiful snow ! 
 Once I was fair as the beautiful snow, 
 With an eye like a crystal, a heart like its glow; 
 Once I was loved for my innocent grace- 
 Flattered and sought for the charms of my face. 
 
 Father, 
 
 Mother, 
 
 Sister, all, 
 God and myself I have lost by my fall ; 
 The veriest wretch that goes shivering by, 
 Will make a wide swoop lest I wander too nigh; 
 For all that is on or above me, I know 
 There's nothing that's pure as the beautiful snow. 
 How strange it should be that this beautiful snow 
 Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go ! 
 How strange should it be when night comes again . 
 If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain ! 
 
 Fainting, 
 
 Freezing, 
 
 Dying alone, 
 
 ! 
 
196 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan 
 To be heard in the streets of the crazy town, 
 Gone mad in the joy of the snow coming down; 
 To be and to die in my terrible woe, 
 With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow. 
 
 Helpless and foul as the trampled snow, 
 Sinner, despair not, Christ stoopeth low 
 To rescue the soul that is lost in its sin, 
 And raise it to life and enjoyment again. 
 
 Groaning. 
 
 Bleeding. 
 
 Dying for thee, 
 The Crucified hung on the accursed tree; 
 His accents of mercy fell soft on thine ear — 
 Is there mercy for me ? Will he hear my prayer? 
 Oh ! God ! in the stream that for sinners did flow, 
 Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. 
 
 THE WORKMAN'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 
 
 A TRIBUTE TO HONEST LABOR. 
 
 Through the wide world 'tis cheerful delight, 
 
 To speak of life scenes on Saturday night, 
 
 When merry workmen and their wages meet, 
 
 And leave the cold shop for the homeward street, 
 
 To see the dark mantle cover the sky — 
 
 The light in the cottage meeting his eye ; 
 
 The patient inmates expecting him back 
 
 To replenish the house with all they lack. 
 
 The busy housewife preparing his food, 
 
 And scraping the scraps to make the grub good. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 197 
 
 A prattling boy, some four years old or more, 
 
 With arms extended meets him at the door ; 
 
 The little eyes turn'd up so clear and fair, 
 
 Says, "Papa, baby climbed up by the chair." 
 
 His hopes tell his fears like the Jewish Dan, 
 
 That his baby boy will soon be a man. 
 
 His wife scans the scene, delighted to know 
 
 That all through the house, the baby's the show 
 
 That mothers must think their babies a show, 
 
 And workmen thus feel — pray, how do you know? 
 
 God trusted me with a bright baby boy, 
 
 Who taught me to feel his babyhood joy. 
 
 If God gave you the same little treasure ; 
 
 He also gave the same baby-measure. 
 
 No measure so pure to measure delight. 
 
 As baby pleasures on Saturday night. 
 
 His mission on earth and love of his life. 
 
 Is blended at home with children and wife,, 
 
 His purse in her pocket — rich as a Jew, 
 
 Replenish the house, I trust it to you; 
 
 The ends made to meet in a workman's life, 
 
 By none so even as a truthful wife. 
 
 Let the public halls go on in grand display, 
 
 And workmen go home where they love to stay. 
 
 Let the tempter come, with allurements bold, 
 
 That Madam Rumor's tongue has softly told, 
 
 Enticing stories of high standing fame, 
 
 That price the state below the promised nr.me. 
 
 Let all the scenes darting through the mind, 
 
 Leave labor's love and workingmen behind. 
 
 Flora's fair fields, adorned with bright flowers, 
 
 Can ne'er win the heart from his cottage hours. 
 
 Home and his children, the hope of his life 5 
 
 No vision so clear as love for his wife. 
 
198 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 The fame of the great ne'er made a measure 
 Large enough to hold cottage -bound pleasure 
 He works with his hands and then takes his rest 
 In the bosom of love — God of the blest. 
 Come, fashion and frolic, blooming and bright, 
 But leave to brave workmen Saturday night. 
 
 INSIDE VIEW OF THE UNITED STATES MAIL 
 
 REVEALED BY THE ANGEL OF OBSERVATION. 
 
 Letter No. i. 
 
 Going West will give each man a farm, 
 And living West will do the East no harm, 
 As people spread along the Western shore, 
 The Eastern man will find an open door. 
 The blue bird laid in the di-dapper's nest, 
 And the golden eggs are found in the West. 
 
 — Land Agent. 
 
 Letter No. 2. 
 
 Katy's sick and Jennie's gone to school, 
 The storm is over and the weather's cool, 
 Brother Tom's married and his wife is gay 
 She's too fast for him, so the people say 
 Some awful things, I never ought to speak. 
 Remember this, I'm coming home next week. 
 
 — Confidential Sister. 
 
 Letter No. 3. 
 
 The note was protested, won't go in bank, 
 And you are requested to sign this blank. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 109 
 
 The current house has failed — aint worth a cent, 
 Long trust ran off and didn't pay his rent. 
 Horn'd by the bulls and squeezed by the bears, 
 The golden-wing gods demand our prayers. 
 
 — Failing Merchant. 
 
 Letter No. 4. 
 
 The little kitten's dead, I'm so distressed, 
 To keep my spirits up I do my best. 
 Come home right son, I'm so very sad, 
 When I see Tom, O, I-l-e be so glad ! 
 
 — Affectionate Little Sister. 
 
 Letter No. 5. 
 
 I thought so Betsey, when you married Jim, 
 The devil a bit would I take from him. 
 To live in a fuss folks never oughter, 
 But prove yourself to be mother s daughter. 
 To fight and scratch is surely a sin, 
 But when he starts the fuss al'ys go in. 
 
 — Mother-in-Law. 
 
 Letter No. 6. 
 
 I-v-e bought some land, paid half the money down, 
 Inclosed y-o-u-'l-l find a note on Billy Brown. 
 Collect it right away. Tell him I-l-e sue. 
 Pay Joe the coin, I-l-e pay the church for you. 
 
 — Church Member. 
 
 Letter No. 7. 
 
 Come over here, Rip, the best place I-v-e seen, 
 Lots of boys in town, and half of 'em green. 
 I played last night till four. Won all the stakes. 
 Bacchus among us with boots full o' snakes. 
 
200 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Morpheus embraced me till the clock struck ten, 
 Ate a late breakfast, looked 'round me, and then 
 Acted agent through the day, softly and wise, 
 Till watchmen on duty all shut their eyes. 
 And t-h-e-n the foolish boys go in, y-o-u b-e-t. 
 Come over here, Rip, and help spread the net. 
 
 — Fast Young Man. 
 
 Letter No. S. 
 
 The case is lost. The witness on the stand 
 Did not remember the lines of the land. 
 His mind was short, I told you it would be, 
 The cost is on y-o-u, the work was on me. 
 
 — Attorney at Law. 
 
 Letter No. <?. 
 
 Silly went to York, and there she caught a beau. 
 He came home with her, a silly chap you know. 
 Silly is so strange, as ugly as old sin, 
 But when she meets a beau she always takes him in. 
 Jenny do come home, sweet Kitty Hope is dead, 
 And Hopeful wants to know who will make his bread. 
 
 — Old Maid. 
 
 Letter No. 10. 
 
 Old dad is dead, I want to break the will. 
 Joe gets the stock, the farm's left to Bill. 
 Non compos mentis, I think is the plea. 
 If learned in the law, stern justice could see, 
 That fruit is the same grown on the same tree. 
 I left old dad but nineteen years ago ; 
 Nobody nursed him but Billy and Joe ; 
 To feel the soft side they never were lazy, 
 And thus by degrees run the old man crazy. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 201 
 
 I depend on y-o-u, how much will it take ? 
 I'm willin' to pay if the will will break. 
 
 — Prodigal Son. 
 
 Letter No. II. 
 
 If I could sell the world I'd make it cheap, 
 A ten-cent mark upon each world I'd keep, 
 To show the world I sell the world low down ; 
 I'd sell to every man that comes to town 
 Wholesale supplies. I'd buy from endless space, 
 At the low price of half a cent apiece. 
 The foolish merchant fails for want of eyes 
 To scan surrounding space for cheap supplies. 
 
 — Cheap John. 
 
 Letter No, is. 
 
 I read eleven letters just to see ■ 
 
 What a wonderful thing the mail would be 
 
 Turned inside out by the Good Anger s hand, 
 
 And read to all the people in the land. 
 
 The different thoughts of the human race, 
 
 Brought to open light and face to face. 
 
 How variegated ever and anon 
 
 To read the statesman and reveal the crown ; 
 
 The ever playful, prattling pedagogue ; 
 
 The cunning, deep-designing demagogue; 
 
 The love-sick girl, the widow and the maid; 
 
 And what the tearful, weeping wife has said. 
 
 The Good Angel knows what measure belongs 
 
 To artless prose and warm poetic songs ; 
 
 To fill the tearless eye to overflow, 
 
 And teach the heart to feel another's woe. 
 
 The Good Angel reveals so very slow, 
 
 The indulgent reader must surely know, 
 
202 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 To turn the ponderous mail inside out, 
 A year of holidays must come about. 
 Pardpn me now, and in the future look 
 To the Good Angel for another book. 
 
 — The Angel of Observation. 
 
 HARD TIMES. 
 
 Come, hopeful men, I am prepared 
 To tell you why the times are hard. 
 Around the world, go where you will, 
 Across the plain and o'er the hill, 
 To labor for the needful dimes, 
 You meet the cry of cold hard times. 
 Nothing can be without a cause, 
 Hard-times are made by certain laws ; 
 Individual action brings 
 Hard-times 1o people and to kings. 
 The poor girl strives to ape the rich, 
 Pays a fancy price for every stitch. 
 Her father works with all his skill 
 For extra dimes to pay the bill. 
 The poor boy thinks hard work a shame, 
 Without a fortune or a name, 
 Will try to make himself a man 
 By joining hands with some low clan. 
 The farmer works to clear the woods; 
 The merchant sells him shoddy goods. 
 The doctor gives his poison pills, 
 The patients die or pay the bills. 
 Less work is done for want of hands 
 
PEN PICTURES. 203 
 
 To clear the ground or till the lands. 
 The lawyer pleads his client's case — 
 Travels ' round from place to place, 
 Relates his plea in open court. 
 The judge rules out his last report. 
 New bondsmen come to stop the fight, 
 And leave him where the wool-is-tight. 
 True justice is so far away, 
 The poor, to wait the law's delay, 
 Must try to do without their dues, 
 And tread the way without their shoes, 
 Another class of men, ' tis true, 
 Pretended friends of me and you, 
 Some millions ■, more or less, I think. 
 Who say the world was made to drink. 
 They drink bad health to one another, 
 Each pulls down a falling brother; 
 Deplete the State to pay their crimes, 
 Disguise the truth and cry hard-times. 
 Rum and fashion, pride and folly, 
 Jim and John and Cousin Molly, 
 Fostering all these foolish crimes, 
 Must ever make cold hard-times. 
 No statesman, but an humble bard, 
 Has told you why the times are hard. 
 Let every one their mission fill, 
 Bay off your debt and stop the still, 
 Train up the young as they should go, 
 Let old and young their duty know, 
 Earn before you spend your dimes, 
 And then, we won't have hard-times. 
 
204 PEN PICTURES 
 
 THE POWER OF TRUTH. 
 
 O virtuous truth! on my tongue repose, 
 Like dew from heaven on the blushing rose; 
 A healing balm for every wind that blows ; 
 Star of the morning — light of ev'ry age — 
 Prop of the beggar, and pride of the sage — 
 Solace of the weak — glory of the strong — 
 Guide of the critic and the poet's song; 
 Pure as the diamond, as brilliant and bright, 
 Tho' covered with falsehood dark as the night, 
 Will furnish the mind with a ray of light, 
 Tho' faint as the infant ray of the morn 
 Heralds the news that young day is born. 
 Sure as the heavenly-piercing eye of day, 
 Peeps e'er the hills, to look dark night away, 
 Ungarnished truth will banish falsehood. 
 
 THE WHEELS OF TIME. 
 
 How slow the iron wheels of Time can turn, 
 When from the hidden future we would learn 
 Some anxious lesson of eventful life ! 
 How slow, how deadly slow, and with what strife, 
 They seem to turn upon the road of Time ; 
 How harsh upon the ear their sound doth chime ! 
 But when the dark-faced future holds in store 
 Some reckoning of a different score — 
 Some fearful lesson that we have to learn — 
 How swift the nimble wheels of Time can turn ! 
 
PEN PICTURES. 205 
 
 THE DAYS OF MY CHILDHOOD. 
 
 I am wand'ring back to the days of my childhood — 
 
 The mill, the pasture, and deep tangled wildwood; 
 
 The orchard, the cellar, and apple that mellows, 
 
 The sound of the horn, and laugh of my fellows. 
 
 The morning's brief meal, and refreshments at noon, 
 
 The stroll in the wood by the light of the moon ; 
 
 The bath in the river, and fisherman's line, 
 
 The herding of cattle, and feeding of swine. 
 
 The morning in the field, the song of the lark, 
 
 The evening at the cot, and play at the park ; 
 
 The long nights of winter, and games of the season, 
 
 The fine flow of spirits ne'er tainted with treason. 
 
 The bright days of summer joyfully seen, 
 
 The rove through the garden of flowers serene ; 
 
 The blossoms of spring, and the leaves of the fall, 
 
 The sound of the voice of a playmate's call; 
 
 The memories of childhood and young dreams ®f age 
 
 Are twin-sister flowers in the mind of the sage. 
 
 sweet path of childhood, flowers of the past ! 
 
 1 traverse thee in dreams, and hug thee so fast ! 
 When day opens eyes, and morning lays cold, 
 The gray hairs of age, and sorrows of old, 
 
 I would go back to slumber, live o'er again 
 The joys of my youth, forgetting the pain 
 Of age, a sorrows, perplexities, and strife, 
 That shade and darken the last end of life, 
 
206 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 IDOLS AND IDEAS. 
 
 ESSAY ON JACOB AND LABAN. 
 
 Turn back in history, four thousand years, 
 
 At Laban's house a brilliant youth appears. 
 
 Young Jacob, in the ardor of his life, 
 
 Willing to serve seven years for a wife. 
 
 Rachel and Leah concerted a plan, 
 
 To blindfold cupid and catch the young man. 
 
 Rachel was pretty and modestly shy, 
 
 Leah, the eldest, was weak in the eye. 
 
 Jacob was faithful, honest and kind, 
 
 The image of Rachel first in his mind. 
 
 Seven years service completed the trade ; 
 
 Leban gave Jacob the blushing young maid ; 
 
 The wedding at night bewilder' d his head, 
 
 And daylight found old Leah in his bed. 
 
 The hand of Rachel must Jacob deplore, 
 
 For Laban demanded seven years more ; 
 
 The service performed, at Laban's demand, 
 
 Jacob took Rachel, at last, by the hand. 
 
 Rachel and Leah bore sons and daughters. 
 
 Jacob cast cattle with rods and waters ; 
 
 His wages is stock, and all that he got 
 
 Was each cattle-calf found marked with a spot. 
 
 Laban loved to mold his gods in metal ; 
 
 Jacob filPd the fields with spotted cattle. 
 
 Old Laban's fortune, with his cattle went, 
 
 And Jacob saw the face of discontent. 
 
 With wives, and herds, and servants at command, 
 
 He left the Laban house for his native land ; 
 
 With horn and hoof, and whoop and halloo, 
 
 With some to lead and some to follow, 
 
PEN PICTURES. 207 
 
 And crop the grass on distant sods. 
 
 Young Rachel stole old Laban's gods, 
 
 Bereft 01 cattle, and his daughters too, 
 
 Old Laban thought it idle to pursue, 
 
 In summing up the ends and odds, 
 
 The old man missed his idol gods, 
 
 And paddled on to overtake, 
 
 As he thought, the treacherous Jake. 
 
 Laban and Jake met face and face, 
 
 Each maintained a sacred place. 
 
 The god of Laban — an Idol ; 
 
 The God of Jacob — an Idea. 
 
 And there they planted a lasting stone, 
 
 That each should let the other alone. 
 
 On the east, the Syrian hero stood, 
 
 On the west, Jacob gave himself to God. 
 
 In rolling on the human flood, 
 
 Some will turn back to Laban's blood. 
 
 A golden calt since Aaron's day, 
 
 Is all that some can preach and pray, 
 
 While some in folly, go to seed, 
 
 And make idols of Christian creed. 
 
 God is an idea in the mind, 
 
 Eternal with all human kind. 
 
 All idols are to represent, 
 
 And in value net worth a cent. 
 
208 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 THE DYING DRUNKARD TO HIS SOUL. 
 
 Heaven forsaken — fer one sin, 
 The soul set out, when wine set in. 
 A vision of light in the deep dark ! 
 I see the still — a living spark ; 
 Bewildered like a fallen star, 
 Oh, how I wonder what you are ! 
 
 Then — it surpasses me to know 
 
 In endless space — where you will go; 
 
 Shut out from heaven by decree, 
 
 As a wandering refugee ; 
 
 To wander on from shore to shore 
 
 And never find an open door. 
 
 Traveling on, without h©pe or home, 
 Through endless ages yet to come — 
 No time to plead, no place for prayer, 
 'Tis desolation everywhere. 
 Oh, heaven come ! do tell me why, 
 The drunkard's soul can never die; 
 
 The Devil, for one sin alone, 
 Will never claim you as his own. 
 Lost! Oh, Bacchus — thou God of wine; 
 Look upon this poor soul of mine ; 
 Ope' thy bubbling wine-bottle eye — 
 And as it lives, let thy mission die. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 209 
 
 THE MONEYLESS MAN vs. MONEYLESS WOMAN. 
 
 The Moneyless Man was composed by Henry T. Stanten, of Mays- 
 ville, Kentucky. It has been read on the stage in the city of London, 
 and won the applause of thousands of England's gifted orators. 
 
 Is there no secret place on the face of the earth, 
 Where charity dwelleth, where virtue hath birth, 
 Where bosoms in mercy and kindness will heave, 
 And the poor and the wretched shall ask and receive. 
 
 Is there no place on earth where a knock from the poor 
 Will bring a kind angel to open the door ? 
 Ah ! search the wide world whenever you can, 
 There's no open door for the moneyless man. 
 
 •Go, look in your hall, where chandelier's light 
 Drives off with its splendor the darkness of night ; 
 Where the rich, hanging velvet in shadowy fold, 
 Sweeps gracefully down with its trimmings of gold, 
 
 And the mirrors of silver take up and renew, 
 In long, lighted vistas, the wildering view. 
 Go there in your patches, and find if you can, 
 A welcoming smile for the moneyless man ! 
 
 Go, look in yon church of the cloud-reaching spire, 
 Which gives back to the sun the same look of red fire ; 
 Where the arches and columns are gorgeous within, 
 And the walls seem as pure as a soul without sin. 
 
 Go down the long aisle — see the rich and the great, 
 
 In the pomp and the pride of their worldly estate ; 
 
 Walk down in your patches and find if you can, 
 
 Who opens a pew to a moneyless man. 
 » 14 
 
210 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Go look to yon judge, in his dark, flowing gown, 
 With the scales wherein law weigh eth equity down, 
 Where he frowns on the weak and smiles on the strong, 
 And punishes right, while he justifies wrong; 
 
 Where jurors their lips on the Bible have laid, 
 To render a verdict they've already made ; 
 Go there in the court room, and find if you can, 
 Any law for the cause of a moneyless man ! 
 
 Go look in yon banks, where Mammon has told 
 His hundreds and thousands of silver and gold ; 
 Where safe from the hands of the starving and poor, 
 Lies pile upon pile of the glittering ore ; 
 
 Walk up to the counter — ah ! there you may stay, 
 Till your limbs grow old and your hair turns gray, 
 And you'll find at the banks no one of the clan 
 With money to loan to a moneyless man ! 
 
 Then go to your hovel, no raven has fed 
 The wife who has suffered too long for her bread. 
 Kneel down by her pallet and kiss the death frost 
 From the lips of the angel you poverty lost; 
 
 Then turn, in your agony, upward to God, 
 And bless, while it smites you, the chastening rod; 
 And you'l find at the end of your life's little span, 
 There's a welcome above for a moneyless man. 
 
PEN PICTURES. 211 
 
 THE MONEYLESS WOMAN 
 
 "Was written by your orator after reading the " Moneyless Man," and 
 first published in 1868. 
 
 In answer to all Mr. Stanten has said, 
 
 I'll speak a kind word for the moneyless maid. 
 
 There is one place on earth, where a knock from the 
 
 poor, 
 Will bring a kind angel to open the door. 
 
 I've searched the wide world in open review, 
 From the three-legged stool to the fine cushion* d pew, 
 And found by the dint of a wonderful scan, 
 The only true mate of the moneyless man. 
 
 Come, Mr. Stanten, and I'll open the door, 
 And show you the angel, so meek and so poor. 
 
 The merchant with his silks and satins for sale, 
 May listen an hour to a frivolous taie, 
 Or talk for a day of his diamonds and pearls. 
 But has nothing to say to moneyless girls. 
 
 The doctor, with his pills, forceps and knife, 
 Hoarding up money; the cost of your life, 
 Will purchase a coach, more easy to ride, 
 But seldom escorts a moneyless bride. 
 
 The farmer with his fields blooming and green, 
 Will go to the church to see and be seen, 
 And often returns to his hoe and spade. 
 But never takes home a moneyless maid. 
 
 The preacher condemns the goods of this life, 
 As unworthy — both husband and wife, 
 
"Z\2 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 Looking beyond them for all of his bliss, 
 Seldom unites with a moneyless miss. 
 
 The lawyer sums up the strength of his fees, 
 To court your favor, will get on his knees, 
 For money alone, will honor your name, 
 But never pays court to a moneyless dame. 
 
 The statesman expounds the laws for a bank, 
 Rough hews a platform and stands on a plank, 
 Surveys the country, and tells of its fate, 
 But never will choose a moneyless mate. 
 
 The soldier with his sword, detesting a foe, 
 So gallant on the field his colors to show, 
 So brave at the call of the drum and the fife, 
 Is too timid to take a moneyless wife. 
 
 The poet will sing the story of fame, 
 1 Give frivolous things a glorious name ; 
 Sing for a friend, or sing for a foeman, 
 But has no song for a moneyless woman. 
 
 Now, Mr. Stanten, return to your muse, 
 And measure her /<?£/, to see what you lose, 
 Inspire her brain, deny if you can, 
 I've found a true mate for the mo?ieyless ?nan. 
 
 Note — When these poems are spoken on the stage, by a gentle- 
 man and lady, the lady should adopt the name of the gentleman 
 speaking, instead of Mr. Stanten's 
 
PEN PICTURES. 213 
 
 THE POET. 
 
 A man of sorrow, all compact, of imagination full ; whose fertile 
 brain never drops the blossom. 
 
 Rhymers are plenty. Poets are like 
 
 TOM WATSON'S DEER. 
 
 In joyous early times and back-woods life, 
 
 A party went out to hunt, and camped 
 
 By a certain stream called Little Fork. 
 
 And with the rising of the morning sun, 
 
 Hunting deer they went, two by two, save Tom, 
 
 Who went alone and traversed the woods 
 
 The livelong day, and with the setting sun 
 
 Returned to camp. His comrades, lively sat, 
 
 In merry chat, around the burning coals. 
 
 Ah ! what luck ? said one, as Tom walked up. 
 
 Good luck, said Tom, I've killed a dozen deer. 
 
 Where? Where? Where? said all of them at once. • 
 
 Two I hung on Pleasant Hill, hard by the 
 
 New-built church. Four I left on Roebuck Ridge 
 
 Right west of Potter's field, on live oak trees. 
 
 Five are strung in Greenwood swamp, ' long the shore, 
 
 And face the East, right on the public road. 
 
 And one I left on Little Fork, right at 
 
 The Jtsaiiey Ford ; and Tom Watson sat down. 
 
 Bob and I straight have come, from Pleasant Hill, 
 
 Passed the new-built church, and saw no deer, 
 
 Saio Biii. We, too, have come from Roebuck Ridge, 
 
 Passed ' round the Potter's held, and saw no deer, 
 
 Sam joe. And we have come from Greenwood swamp, 
 
 Along tne puDlic roaa, and saw no deer, 
 
 SaidJSam and Q. Tom Watson looked sad, 
 
 And rising up, he said : I hunted down 
 
214 PEN PICTURES. 
 
 The Little Fork ; when near the Bailey Ford, 
 
 A big buck bounced up. I leveled down 
 
 My fowling piece and shot him through the head, 
 
 And hung him on a Sweet-gum tree, right at 
 
 The Bailey Ford. Just then, Cliff Carlo came 
 
 And said : I have hunted up and down 
 
 The Little Fork, and crossed the Bailey Ford. 
 
 Did you see Tom's deer ? said all at once. 
 
 No, I saw no game. Then Tom, laughing, said: 
 
 I take my boasting back — but, sure as fate, 
 
 I crossed the creek right at the Bailey Ford, 
 
 And looked with all my eyes, and in the mud, 
 
 Hard by the shore — I saw the d d thing's track. 
 
 Farewell to all, both great and small, 
 Who live upon this dirty ball ; 
 Remember me — God bless you all, 
 And softly let the curtain fall. 
 
RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wi liner 
 287