THE BURNING OF CHICAGO, A POEM, BY THOMAS CLARKE, Author of "A Day in May," "Sir Copp," "The Two Angels," etc., etc, QiiBeque ipse miserrima vidi, Et quorum pars magna fui. — Virgil. CHICAGO : CLARKE &f CO., PUBLISHERS, 443 WARREN AVENUE ^J(^^ THE BURNING OF CHICAGO, A POEM, BY THOMAS CLARKE, Author of "A Day in May," "Sir Copp," "The Two Angels," etc., etc. Quaeque ipse miserrima vidi, Et quorum pars magna fui. — Virgil, CHICAGO : CLARKE <5p CO., PUBLISHERS, 443 WARREN AVENUE. Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1872, By THOS. CLARKE, In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. Ckieago Type Foundry. OTTAWAY, BROWN & COLBERT, JOHN CONAHAN, Printers, ELECTROTYPER. 7 & g JefFerson Street. av^S\ The following Poem appeared in Bonham's Rural Mkssenger for November, 187 i : 2^0 Thomas Clarke, Author of the "'Two Angels" "Sir Co/>/i," &c., &c. BY T. W. SPELLMAN. I knew your heart was strong as adamant ; Your gray hairs speak not of your strength's decline, But tell me of a life of honest toil. Were I a poet blessed with lofty fancy, I would recall your presence, as when last I grasped in cordial greeting your warm hand ; And paint a picture that would catch the eye, 52 S^ And move the heart to ecstacy. But the fire o ^ Burns far too faint to make my colors blend. £ "2 To you, with that full sympathy of soul j^ I And generous impulse which misfortune wakes, W ^ To keenest life, I turn ; for well I know, P ^ What natures such as yours — fine-wrought and pure, S ~ Must suffer in their inner consciousness, Ph -^ When forced to buffet with the whelming waves <; ^ Of fortune's sharp reverse. The iron will — Q- :, The power to act in dark adversity — ^ . § With finer gold will gild the crucible. ^ u "^ The quality of adverse circumstance, (J g- f^ And the deep meaning of the word, Necessity^ a, 2 -c Tell you how truly brave you are ; and how, ° ^ '^ With courage to surmount the surge which breaks z ^" .= ^ Upon the wreck, and washes all away. 2 2 ^^^ Save one's own stark identify, the victim p CQ 5 p c" "^'^i: Must be his own dependence, under God ; , '^ The world wags on, in gruff indifference, x Q S.-^ And swaggers past you, — yet, perhaps, its gait ^ (;^ "^C^ Conceals a sympathetic chord, which, touched, . . ^ ^ Though not well tuned, sends music to the heart, S '^ f^ |- AVith deeper power than chords of sweeter thrill. ^ c«" "^ > The world is full of sympathy ; and oft _ ^ I 's^ Its bounties flow, whene'er its fount of tears ^ d~ ^ -c Breaks o'er the bounds of its frigidity, ^ Your pen, the always potent moral lever JC "^ -^ -t; That moves a world, and leaves a blessing oft U aj ^ ^. To him who stops to con the living page, ^ -^ ^ i«. Hath raised an army on the Western plains ^7^ 3.i! Of men who stand, with willing hearts and hands. To cheer the brother whom they have not seen. DEDICATION. The following correspondence sufficiently explains itself: War REX November 26, 1871 No. 443 Warrex Avenue, Chicago, > S. W. Spellman, Esq., I?ear Sir : Enclosed please find a little poem which I com- menced, some time ago, in the vain hope that it might turn out something adequate to express my deep gratitude to you for the kind and excellent poem which you were so good as to inscribe to me in this month's issue of Bonhams Rural Messenger. I found that the great length of the poem suggested by your own would preclude its insertion in the Messenger ; so I have been obliged to curtail it within reason- ably proper bounds, and I send it to you thus maimed, to publish it or not, as you may deem best. [The poem referred to may be found on page twenty, of this issue.^-ED. Mes.] My friends wish me to publish the whole poem in book form ; and if I should do so, I shall feel a great pleasure, if you permit me, to inscribe it to you who have inspired it. Your much obliged friend, THOMAS CLARKE. No. 624 Main Street, Rockford, ) November 28, 1871. f Prof. Thos. Clarke, Dear Sir : If the use of my humble name, comparatively un- known as it is in the field of poetic literature, will add in the least to the success or value of the poem you mention, you are at liberty to use it in the manner you sug- gest. Ever deeming it an honor to have my name associated with one whose repu- tation as a poet, and whose character as a gentleman, are above criticism in the one or derogation in the other, I hope you will consider this a sufficient permit, and believe me to be. Sincerely, yours, S. W. SPELLMAN. 443 Warren Avenue, Chicago, ) December 26, 187 1. \ S. W. Spellman, Esq., Dear Sir : I feel happy in being permitted to give ex- pression to my gratitude, by inscribing to you the following poem, entitled " The Burning of Chicago ;" and I only hope it may justify the high opinion which you entertain of its author ; as well as satisfy llie taste of one so well qualified to judge of such matters, as you have proved yourself to be. I remain, dear .sir, Your faithful friend, THOMAS CLARKE. The Burning of Chicago. Kind friend, I thank thee for thy sympathy ; 'Tis bahii to soothe my spirit in distress ; And could I but repay thee as I would, My Muse should be invoked to ease my heart Of the deep debt of gratitude it owes, And still must owe, for lack of power to pay ; For still the memory of that fiery sea. Whose waves engulfed our city in their wrath, Usurps dominion o'er my helpless will, And rules supreme, a tyrant o'er its realm. Oh, such a scene transpiring 'neath my view, Myself a part, appears to me a dream, A hideous nightmare, from whose deadly grasp I ever seem to fly, — but fly in vain ! > Can nothing blot the memory of that night. That Sabbath night of horrors, from my soul ; And leave it a receptacle, once more, Of peace and bliss, secure from boding ill ? Alas, too deep the imprint of that scene. That fearful scene, is branded on my heart For^ aught, save dissolution, to efface. That night, October 8th, will ever be An era in the history of the world : One thousand eighteen hundred seventy-one. The year of grace in which the scene occurred, THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. Will be recorded on the roll of time, As one of great disaster and distress To thousands who have suffered woes untold, In the great fires that swept our Western homes. And young Chicago, from the world's fair map, Without a moment's warning to prepare The minds of men for such a sudden change, For such a cruel, unexpected blow. Dismal and bleak 'round the street corners moaned The hollow blast, that memorable night. While I and my companion bent our steps Homeward from church ; and, as we moved along, Impeded by the wind at every step, I said : " If fire should rage in such a storm. Farewell to home and all our earthly store." Scarce had we reached that home, my wife and I, When hark ! the court-house bell sounds an alarm ; Which proved the death-knell of our city fair ; The grave of all our hopes, for many a year. And this was the knell Which was tolled by the bell. For the lovely Garden City of the West ; In that solemn warning wail. In the fury of the gale,, In the clouds before it driven, In the frown of angry Heaven, Might be read the coming terror and unrest. And thus the bell did say, In its solemn clang, clang, clang; As its fearful music rang Through the city steeped in pleasure, And inflated beyond measure, THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. 7 With abundant stores of treasure ; And it caused a sudden terror and dismay : \ " Think, oh mortal men, who flourish * Like the hHes of the field, Which the sun and spring showers nourish, Which the lovely gardens yield ; Think, that 'midst the bloom of May Comes the canker of decay; That the fairest lily glancing In the sunbeam after dawn, Or the loveliest maiden dancing With her lover on the lawn. May both, within the space of one brief hour. Be taught to feel the proud destroyer's power ; And now the Prairie Queen, the young Chicago, Is doomed to meet the fate of proud Carthago ! And lo, the shooting fires, like boreal lights, Spread o'er the fated city towards the South ; And redden lake and sky with one broad sheet Of billowy flame that baffles all the skill Of the few firemen who had been detailed, At first, to fight the formidable foe ! Again the bell. Prophetic of the coming woe That soon must lay the city low. Tolls out its funeral knell. And then its fearful music rang, A wild, sad dirge, a mournful clang, A dirge of solemn meaning. Striking terror to the soul ; While, from centre to the pole. The heavens with light are gleaming THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. :■ / From the fiery element ; • • - Like the radiance that is sent / "" From a richly gilded ceiling, ■ ' Lighted by the numd'rous torches, ■ > That are carried through the porches, ' In a solemn night-proceSsion, > By the fathers of confession, Till they reach the sacred dome, ^ Where the sisters also come ; ■ ~ '. - There, inspired by holy feeling, And on the cold marble kneeling, ' -' ( , They sing the solemn mass. For souls about to pass Before the throne eternal, . - To God in radiant glory. To save from purga'tory. By his great power supernal, Those souls which, but for Jesus' sake. Must wail forever in the burning lake. '- > V With furious speed the summoned engines rush. " To stem the fiery torrent in its coursed ■ The firemen do their best, — that be^t how*welk ! To cope with such n pitiless foe, which giVes. No quarter to the- vanquished, but pursues Its victim to the death, unless, perhaps. By speed superior, he elude its grasp. On sweeps the flame tremendous, licking up The proudest structures, with its hissing tongue ; And, as the hungry tiger thirsts for blood, And loves destruction for destruction's sake. The greedy flame'turns back, and prostrate lays. Whole blocks and streets which it at first had spared. Again that dismal court-house bell peals out ! THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. Peals out its last sad wail, its funeral knell, Wil:h quick reverberation : cl!ang, clang, clang, Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, Clang, clang, clang ! This was 'tlie burden of its woe : * "With a hollow, stifled moan, In a mournful monotone, The city's knell I rang, And terrific was the clang; But now another knell I must toll , > And that knell, oh ! that knell is mine own, For now there comes a cry, That I, alas ! must die ; But why I am thus doomed, I may not know ; Save that the fates so will, which nothing can control, I have labored day and night, With all my zeal and might. To save the city from the fiery foe , ' And this is the return . r here must melt and burn. And iil^e the dying swafi, sing, woe, woe, woe !" And since the Fates decree. That this must surely be ; To "future ages. I would have' it known, That I have measured time with honest hand, Nor reaped, I ever where I had not sown; But scattered timely warnings o'er tlie land, Which mortal men were slow to understand. " Mother, hast thou done thy duty, To thy husband and thy child ? Daughter, hast thou ])rized the beauty Clothed upon a spirit mild ? Father, hast thou well provided xO THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. For the pledges of thy love ? Brother, hast thou been decided In thy choice of Heaven above ? If so, 'tis well." And now the bell, With a quick reiteration, Sounds its own funeral knell. Louder, fiercer, every moment, rang. Its fearful warning clang. Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang ; Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang ! ! And hark to that terrific din That swells upon the tortured air ! Hark, hark ! it is the wailing of despair. Whose every note smites with dismay. The hearts of all who listen to the lay. For it tells them of a frightful conflagration. Sent down from Heaven to punish them for sin ! Thus in its dying tone, Together with the city's fate, The bell proclaims its own ! Of both the doom is sealed ; and now, alas ! All hope for them is vain. The cry : " Lost, lost !" Is echoed far and wide, with wild dismay, With anguish and despair • as of a soul. Which has received its sentence from its God • " Depart, thou wicked spirit, to the place Prepared for such as thou '" Then, then it shrieks. In agony unspeakable t " Lost, lost !" Its cries of anguish and of horror, peal Througli boundless space • " Lost, lost, forever lost '" And Echo from the caves of Erebus, Of Chaos and Old Night, reverberates, With solemn mockery of despair • " Lost, lost, Lost, lost for ever, lost for ever lost !" THE BURNING OF CHICAGO, IB A pause succeeds, — an ominous, painful pause, Wherein the roar of the fierce elements Let loose, is heard with more appalling din ; And then a sudden crash, a mighty shock, As if the solid fabric of the earth Were rent asunder, — burled with violence Against some other sphere ! Then all is still, Save the wild wind and flame, whose violence Is fed and pampered by this fresh supply Of fuel from the fallen roof and dome. And, now, the awful scene transcends belief; Transcends all power of pencil to depict, Of tongue to utter, or of pen to paint. Exaggeration here can have no place ; Romance no home, and Fiction no retreat ; The naked truth itself is so remote, So unattainable, so vast, so grand ; That one might sooner hope to grasp the stars, The universe, — Omnipotence itself; — Than hope to give the world a single phase Of that tremendous and undreamt of woe. That has befallen our city and ourselves. The greatest shock our race has ever known ! Here all the senses are assailed, at once, With the most monstrous objects. Sounds of wrath. In every key of horror, shriek and wail. And roar, and bellow round us, like the wails. The shrieks, the moans, the bowlings of the damned ! The bulls of Bashan, tigers of Bengal, "^ Numidian lions roaring for their prey ; Fierce screaming eagles, croaking carrion crows. Wolves, bears and panthers, seem in concert joined; Whose harsh, discordant notes fall on the ear, 12 THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. In one vast diapason of mad rage, Of horror, and of vengeance, and of death ! These added to the sights that meet the eye, On every hand, appal the stoutest heart, And fill the bravest spirit with dismay ! Flames of all colors glare upon the sight. From bloody red through all the various hues Of yellow, green and purple to pure white Blended with pale blue lights; such as are seen, "When chemists use the blow-pipe to consume The hardest adamant, or to reduce Metalic bases to their elements. Like unto which, ten million millions, now. Seem wielded by Omnipotence, and blown By his own angry breath, to melt at once Our homes, our substance in the fiery flood, And blot our guilty city from the earth. The burning air, as from a furnace sent. Pregnant with sulphurous, execrable smells, Stifles each breath we draw, our mouthy and throats Are filled with bitterness ; as of that fruit That grows upon the shores of Acheron. The scene around is like the burning pit, Through whose infernal shades and friendly screen, Stalk hellhounds in the shape of Christian men, Exacting blackmail from the tortured poor, And oft committing murder for its sake. — A splendid illustration of the fruits Of moral and religious teachings, reaped. After a growth and ripening of years. Nay centuries of labor and of care. Of prayer and fasting, watering of tears ! — And over all is thrown the pall of death. Black clouds of smoke, through which the waning moon THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. 13 Gleams down, at intervals, with pallid face And ghastly smile ; suggesting to the mind, A loop-hole in the vaulted roof of hell ; Through which the wicked are allowed to look, To aggravate their misery and despair. And now, our cup of horrors overflows ; Shrieks, wails and prayers ascend, in vain, to Heaven, Whose murky canopy frowns back : " Avaunt ! Ye hypocrites, your prayers are now too late ; Repent in earnest, if ye would be spared I" Ah, then and there, 'twas piteous to behold The panic-stricken multitude retreat. In wild confusion, to escape the bolts, — The murderous rain of fiery bolts that fell Around them, thick as hail before the blast ; And filled the air, like flakes of falling snow ' Some wretches fell exhausted in the street A prey to the devouring element ; Some fled to cellars, trusting to their strength, As proof against the fiercest flame ; — but these Have not returned, and will return no more ! Some fell, sad victims to their appetites For drink, which freely flowed for all who chose To quaff the maddening draught, the last for them. How many perished, none may ever know ; Since not one trace of their existence now Is left to tell the melanchob* tale. Those who escaped with life, had little else To comfort them, or render life a boon ; And these were many, who, all breathless, fled From each successive refuge, which uroved vain ; 14 THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. Till nothing but the prairie, bleak and bare, Was left to screen the mother and her babe ; The sick, the dying, naked and forlorn. And had not God looked down upon our state, In pity, and in answer to our prayers, The fruit of true repentance and reform. That dismal night had been our last on earth ! Bless the Lord, O my soul, yea, bless the Lord, For his great mercy shown to us this day ; And sing a grateful hymn to praise his name. O Lord our God, how truly great art thou. When clothed in all thy majesty and power! Who with thy touch dost cause the hills to smoke ; Who makest the clouds thy chariot ; and dost ride Upon the out-spread pinions of the wind ; And makest them thy ministers ; and these A flaming fire obedient to thy will, To execute thy purposes on earth, Thy judgments on the sons of mortal men, Who have forsaken thee, and incense burned To idols made of gold, of brass and clay ; And glorified the works of their own hands. Herein, O Lord, with tears, we must confess ; We grievously have sinned, forgetting thee, To worship Mammon, Dagon, any god That might give promise of a fleeting joy; And therefore, thou hast bared thy mighty arm. To smite us in thy anger with thy bolt ; And lay our sinflul city in the dust ; So that who once beheld her, nov/ exclaim : "How doth the city that was full of people, A city great amongst the provinces, THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. l5 Sit, like a widow, solitary now !" But thou, O Lord, hast had compassion on us. And spared a remnant of thy people here ; And, in thy mercy, granted to them time For thought and true repentance ; till they turn To thee, the only good, the only source Of peace, security and happiness ; And on this solid rock rebuild a city. Whose every hearth shall be a shrine to thee ; Where all the household shall unite in prayer. In praise and gratitude and boundless love, From generation unto generation, For ever and for evermore — Amen. And, Lord, we thank thee, that far distant friends Who heard the story of our matchless woe, Inspired by thee and Christian charity, Were prompt to forward us the needed aid ; To whom our love and gratitude are due ; Who, next to thee, demand our thanks and praise. O generous Friends who came to our relief, Yea, from the utmost regions of the earth. How shall we best our gratitude express ? How can we best yonr noble deeds repay ? Your offerings, we know, were free as air; Bestowed without the slightest hope or wish Of any recompense, save that which springs From the sweet consciousness, that he who gives His substance to the poor, lends to the Lord : The act itself being its own best reward. We therefore feel, that if we emulate Tlie glorious example ye have set us. We shall repay you in the coin ye love ; If, when men suffer as we lately suffered, We do to them as ye have done to us. l6 THE BURNING OF CHICAGO, Return we now to view the sad remains Of what was once our lovely Prairie Queen, The Garden City — pride of all the land. The second morning after her reverse, I enter from the North ; and am amazed To find no mark whereby to recognise A single street or building : All are blent Into one shapeless ruin, grim and stark ! The wind still howled with fury o'er the waste, As if not yet quite satisfied, — and swept Thick clouds of dust and ashes through the air, Blinding the eyes with smoke ; stifling the breath With sulphurous vapors and the smell of fire. ^he streets were rough, and hollowed by the flames ; And felt like burning marl beneath the feet. The iron rails, once stretched along the streets. Were twisted now and curled and arched and bent, Into fantastic shapes of every form ; Which proved the fierceness of the fiery flood That had passed over them ; and had laid waste Th' adjacent park and cemetery whose tombs And trees and fences all had been consumed. Far as the eye could reach on either side. Homes, churches, schools and colleges were strewn, As if by some terrific earthquake's shock. Here breweries lay prostrate, — taverns there ; Stores, elevators, marts on every hand. Were mingled indiscriminately ; and slept Together in one vast and common grave. A little further on, the naked walls Of Robert CoUyer's church appear in view. THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. 17 A solitary landmark in the waste ; Save that, far to the left, the waterworks Could still be recognized by the tall tower Which had escaped unharmed. Near Collyer's church, There stood one solitary wooden house. Which, with its wooden stable, had escaped, By some strange miracle, the common fate. As I advanced, I here and there remarked The presence of small groups of men, who seemed Intent on something which attracted them ; I found they were inspecting the remains Of human victims to the scorching flames, All burnt to cinders, or so much defaced, As rendered recognition hopeless now ; And many such were seen. And now I tried To find my former home on Illinois. I could not find the street ; until, at length, I came upon a house of which one stone Remained in place, unbroken near the base ; On which I read: "Rush Medical College." Then I knew where stood my recent happy home. Tears flowed abundant down my furrowed cheeks, When I beheld in ruins that dear spot. Where, in the bosom of my family Now scattered far apart, I had enjoyed As much felicity as mortal man May hope for in this bitter vale of tears ; I tore myself away, still gazing back, With many a painful, many a wistful look, Until I reached the tunnel on La Salle. l8 THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. I entered this. The place was gloomy now ; A hollow cave without one ray of light To render darkness visible. A throng Of houseless wanderers, drooping, like myself, ** Whose smiles, put on, could ill conceal the woe, The torture of the bleeding heart within, Were my companions. And with these I groped, My weary way through rubbish, stones and bricks, That choked the entrance and the exit too, From houses fallen on them from both sides. ■; Midst strange unearthly noises made by men, T Who laughed, and whistled ; sang and bawled, in turn. To cheer them through the passage, we, at length. Emerged to light upon the other side. - ^ The ruin here was frightful ! Every house On that most splendid street, lay in the dust. Except the court house walls ; which still remained, A blackened mass, divested of its roof, Its dome, its clock, its beauty and its grace. The noble building of the Board of Trade, . Whose " Hall of Commerce" late had been the pride Of all the West — the finest in the world. Lay prostrate near — no stone was left on stone ! The Sherman House had perished too, and all The buildings that had graced the court house square. 'Twas wondrous to observe the fearful force Exerted by the flames on solid walls, Deemed proof to fire and all the elements; Melting the polished marble into lime ; Rending the hardest granite into shreds ; Twisting the iron columns into shapes Grotesque and fanciful ; as if mere toys. Or playthings in the hands of some spoiled child, The issue of some vast, gigantic race. THE BURNING CHICAGO. I9 These, yielding to the flar . . collapsed and hurled The superincumbent mass across the streets, In wild confusion, piling up the wreck In one entangled web inextricable ; And thus imposing harder toils on those Who shall this mighty ruin clear away ; Than were imposed by him, that Argive King, — On Hercules, to cleanse th' Augean bog; Or drag the robber Cacus, from his den, That he his stolen oxen might regain. From lake to river, and from North to South, As far as Harrison — which stopped the flames. And far beyond the reach of human eye, From any point, the ruins seemed to grow In vastness and sublimity around ; But o'er what space in acres or in miles, I do not care to know — nor ev'n enquire. The Briggs House and the Metropolitan ; The Opera House, the Banks ; the noble stores ; The huge Pacific, ere it was complete ; The Depot grand of the Rock-Island Road ; The Palmer Hause ; the Biglow ; the Tremont; The Matteson ; the Adams and St. James ; The Custom House; the Tribune Block; the stores And splendid marts of State Street and of Lake ; The Union Depot at the foot of Lake • The princely palaces on Michigan And AVabash Avenues; the churches, schools. The theatres, the libraries and halls ; The elevators — lay a heap confused Of rubbish and of ashcri scattered o'er The scene of our late boast and ])ride and ho})e ! THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. Through these I wander iiow with listless step, Dreaming I tread the Halls of Nineveh, Or Babylon ; whose ruins vast deform The Assyrian plain, once glorious and sublime, But now the haunts of bittern and wild beast ; Till roused by some familiar sight I feel The sad reality in all its force, And naked horror. Then, with sobs and tears. Awaking from my dream, I cry alond : " Alas, alas ! No Babylon art thou ; No Nineveh ; no city of the plain ! Tis thou, Chicago, thou, the Prairie Queen ! Fair Garden City, pride of all thy sons ! Tis thou, Chicago, thou ! but oh, how changed ! Tis thou, Chicago, fallen, oh, how fallen !" And then I pause amazed, and ask myself: " What was the cause of this vast overthrow.-' Has God descended from his dwelling place, As erst upon the cities of the plain ; To see, if the report of violence And wrong that reached him from our midst, was true ; And therefore sent this messenger of wrath. To sweep us with the besom of destruction ?" Our self-indulgent self complacency May answer to this charge : " It cannot be ! We have been innocent! Behold the proof: The people mostly have been spared in life ; Their dwellings only and their substance lost ; So that by labor they may soon repair The ruin and the loss ; and thus regain Their former splendor, wealth and high estate ; Build solidly, and save themselves henceforth From peril of fire and flood and every ill." THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. 21 It may be so ; Heaven grant it so may prove ! I fain Avould hope, that we are innocent And sinless in the sight of God and man ; Have done our duty to our fellow men ; Nor grasped more than our honest share of gain ; Have cheered the widow in her agony, Nor sought to take advantage of her woe, To add her pittance to our groaning store ; That we have snatched the orphan from the grasp Of want ; and schooled him in the precious lore Of honest labor and the arts of life ; And thus by love disarmed th' incendiary. If we have acted thus, with honest heart. The city which we build will brave the shock Of every element, unmoved, unscathed ; And, like the Parthenon on the Acropolis, Will shine, a model of beauty and of strength, A beacon light to all the universe, An honor to ourselves and to the race. And, as the Spartan said to one who scoffed, Because his city seemed unwalled, and bare Of all external fence : " It is not so ! For know, that Sparta is impregnable. And trebly fenced with adamantine walls. By the heroic valor of her sons." So shall we say to those who bid us build With indestructible materials ; " What human power can build against the Lord ? What walls of adamant resist His wrath ? Shut out the pestilence that walks at night ; The thunderbolt, the famine or the flood. The mighty earthquake, or the hurricane ? 22 THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. Yet we should build, as prudence would dictate; With brick or solid rock, or any thing Not liable to be consumed, like straw, By th' incendiary's midnight torch ; or by The casual spark emitted from the pipe Of careless loafer, or more careless boy. But whatso'er the substance we employ ; One great desideratum still remains ; And wanting which, the building cannot stand. The mortar used must be Humanity, With Mercy tempered and Unselfishness. Let Mammon and let Dagon be dethroned ; Let God, Religion, Reason, be installed, Not merely in the outward shrine of stone, The temple made by hands, whose end is death ; But in the living temple of the soul, Which knows no dissolution nor decay ; Let Love, and Truth and Justix:e reign within ; Then shall our city, trebly walled and armed, Defy the assaults of sword, of plague, of fire ; For God shall be its citadel of strength ; Its bulwark, its defender and its friend. And now, beloved Chicago, fare thee well, In life unrivalled ; glorious in thy death ! And lo, for thee I build this monument More durable than brass or pyramid Or Mausoleum, reared to honor kings ; A monument which not the gnawing tooth Of wind or rain, or the rough flight of time Through years innumerable can destroy ; But which shall stand as long as earth endures I PROSPECTUS NEW BOOK TO BE PUBLISHED IN CHICAGO, ON THE 1ST OF MARCH, 1872. On or about the ist of March next, we propose to begin publishing, in parts of 32 pages each, a new and beautiful story of English life, entitled " Avondale ; OR, THE Adventurers," by Thomas Clarke, author of "Sir Copp," "The Two Angels," "A Day in May," etc. This work has been carefully prepared ; and is pronounced, by good judges, to be the masterpiece of the author ; that it will defy competition ; establish the pre- eminence of our home literary production on an impregnable basis ; and convince the world that the Great West is strong in literature as she is in every thing else that is great and good. The price will be 25 cents per number, paper covers. As we will issue 20,000 copies — never less — but perhaps many more, it will be the best possible medium for advertisers to make themselves and their wares known all over the country, and we solicit them to send in their subscriptions and their orders at once. We propose also to republish the Poetical Works of Mr. Clarke, which are so well known already ; but which, with their stereotyped plates, were all destroyed in the great fire ; together with all the accumulations of the author's life. These works consist of " A Day in May," a Poem in Six Books ; "Sir Copp," a Poem for the Times in Six Cantos ; " The Two Angels ; or. Love-led, a Poem in Six Cantos ; and " The Battle " and other Poems, patriotic and humorous. Editors who will copy the above Prospectus and send us a marked paper con- taining it, will receive each number regularly by mail as soon as it appears. CLARKE & CO., Publishers, Agents wanted everywhere. 443 Warren Avenue, Chicago. TESTIMONIALS. Of the many spontaneous testimonials to the excellence, purity and high moral tone of these poetical works, published in the leading Journals of the country, we can find room at present for only a few brief extracts from the Chicago papers ; and even these must be limited to one book, namely : " The Two Angels," a work whiclr stands high in the judgment of all who have perused it, and takes rank amongst the first literary productions of this or any other age : "THE TWO ANGELS." " 'The Two Angels' essays the great theme of the origin of evil. The plot pos- sesses interest and power, while its influence is thrown upon the side of virtue and religion." — Advance of Chicago, (Congregational.) " Mr. Clarke's previous poems have all been well received by the press and the public. ' The Two Angels' takes captive the reader, and carries him away in spite of himself." — Chicago Stajidard, (Baptist.) " There is genuine poetry on every page ; and whoever commences the perusal of 'The Two Angels,' will not lay the book down till he has finished it." — Mrs. Liver- more in The New Covenant. " The story of ' The Two Angels' will bear witness to the learning and genius of its author." — Chicago Evening Journal. " The best English critics have awarded to Mr. Clarke a high rank among the first poets of the age." — Chicago Tribune. "The story of 'The Two Angels' is decidedly superior to 'Milton's Paradise Lost,' Mr. Clarke has great facility in versification, his fable is ingenious, his fancy fruitful, and his diction correct and elegant." — Chicago Republican. " The pleasure we derive from Mr. Clarke's volumes is enhanced by the fact, that the author is one of our most estimable citizens." — Western Rural " Dear Sir : Your ' Two Angels' took me captive at the first introduction, (as did its author) and love-led me to the end with delight." — Alfred Dutch, Esq. of Chicago. " Dear Sir : Your beautiful poem ' The Two Angels,' I have read with the deepest interest. It is concise, and in my judgment, more than beautiful, it is perfects — Hon. Judge Joseph Knox, of Chicago. " Mr. Clarke's works have received the stamp of public approbation ; and having passed through several editions, may now be set down as additions to the standard literature of this country," — Chicago Evening Mail. Editors who will copy the above Testimonials and send us a marked paper con- taining them will receive each book regularly by mail as soon as it appears. CLARKE & CO., Publishers, Agents wanted everywhere, 443 Warren Avenue, Chicago. PS PROSPECTUS NEW BOOK TO BE PUBLISHED IN CHICAGO, ON THE 1ST OF MARCH, 1872. On or about the ist of March next, we propose to begin publishing, in parts of 32 pages each, a new and beautiful story of English life, entitled " Avondale ; or, THE Adventurers," by Thomas Clarke, author of "Sir Copp," "The Two Angels," "A Day in May," etc. This work has been carefully prepared ; and is pronounced, by good judges, to be the masterpiece of the author ; that it will defy competition ; establish the pre- eminence of our home literaiy production on an impregnable basis ; and convince ihe world that the Great West is strong in literature as she is in every thing else that is great and good. The price will be 25 cents per number, paper covers. As we will issue 20,000 copies — never less — but perhaps many more, it will be the best pqssible medium for advertisers to make themselves and their wares known all over the country, and we solicit them to send in their subscriptions and llieir orders at once. We propose also to republish the Poetical Works of Mr. Clarke, which are so well known already ; but wliich, with their stereotyped plates, were all destroyed in the great fire ; together with all the accumulations of the author's life, These works consist of" A Day in May," a Poem in Six Books ; "Sir Copi>," a Poem for the Times in Six Cantos ; " The Two Angels ; or. Love-led, a Poem in Six Cantos ; and "The Battle" and other Poems, patriotic and humorous. Editors who will copy the above Prospectus and send us a marked paper con- taining it, will receive each number regularly by mail as soon as it appears. CLARKE & CO., PrnusuERS, Agents wanted even'where. 443 Warren Avenue, Chicago.