THE 
 
 HUNTER OF THE SHAGREEN, 
 
 A Descriptive Poem. 
 
 Cleveland : 
 \V. WILLIAMS. 
 18S2. 
 
DUKE 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
1 
 
 Those under whose notice these lines may fall, will appre- 
 hend that they are from the hand of one who cherishes a 
 remembrance of the grand forest which covered the face of 
 the country, and of the lives and times of the pioneers of the 
 Reserve. Their life and its spirit cannot be perpetuated in 
 history, and thus far have found scant space in story and 
 song. 
 
 Clevf:land, Ohio, August i, 1882. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Vision . . . . . - . 9 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 THINGS IN THE ROUGH. 
 
 - PAGE. 
 
 L — The Hunter . . . . .10 
 
 IL — The Shagreen .... 13 
 
 in. — Indian Spring . . . . • ^7 
 
 IV. — Paul Lynn ... . . , 20 
 
 V. — Winter in the Woods . . . -27 
 
 VI. — Paul's Find ..... 32 
 
 VII. — Nell's Story . . . . .42 
 
 VIII. — The Departure .... 52 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 IN THE HANDS OF THE WORKERS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. — In the Hands of the Workers . . -57 
 
 II. — Time and Change .... 61 
 
 III. — Spell of the Forest . . . .66 
 
 IV. — Nell's Find . . . . . 71 
 V. — John Explains . . . . -75 
 
 VI. — The Whip-poor-will's Song . . 79 
 
 VII.— The Old Hunter . . . .83 
 
 VIII.— June Days . . _ . . . 88 
 
 IX. — Alone . . . . . .92 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2015 
 
 https://archive.org/details/hunterofshagreen01 ridd 
 
THE HUXTER OF THE SHAGREEX. 
 
VISION. 
 
 Comes a vision of my long lost childhood 
 
 Across the furrows of the buried years ; 
 Wide waving green, a wondrous wildwood; 
 
 And the cabin near its shade appears; 
 And sweet there rises on mv listening ears, 
 
 The plaming voice of my mother, singing 
 Low murmurous strains, that beguile to tears; 
 
 And the laughter of my sister ringing 
 From that near forest, where the limpid stream, 
 The first silver thread of the bright Shagreen, 
 
 Sparkles o'er its sands through the trees away. 
 
 My brothers on its banks I hear at play, 
 I breathe the fragrance of wild balm and thyme, 
 
 1 hear the hermit thrush as in that time. 
 
 That wood stream itself, hath become a dream. 
 
 Born of limpid springs, themselves forest born. 
 Save in mem'ry, it doth no longer gleam; 
 
 Part of the wood, it perished with its charm. 
 Yet I can see it still, a shining band, 
 Around a sloping cape of maples grand. 
 The sweetest bit of wild, of all wood land. 
 That a sanctuary was — a retreat, 
 Where in those years oft strayed my boyish feet; 
 My tender nature steeped in solitude, 
 Did there imbibe the spirit of the wood; 
 Whose lights and shadows still around me play. 
 With the cherished dreams of that brighter day; 
 Which o'er this page sheds something of its ray. 
 
 2 9. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 THINGS IN THE ROUGH. 
 I. 
 
 THE HUNTER. 
 
 An old man tall and gaunt, 
 
 Of visage gray and grim, 
 Gray eyes set wide and deep. 
 
 Of giant mold and limb — 
 Strong and lithe in youth, 
 
 His childhood reached to age: 
 His school the deep greenwood. 
 
 The forest leaf his page. 
 
 Learned in all wood craft. 
 
 Wise, cunning in the lore 
 Taught in the desert wild, 
 
 By sky, by stream, by shore. 
 More cunning than the red fox. 
 
 Knowing more than red-man art, 
 Deep and grave in counsel. 
 
 And still a child in heait. 
 
THE SHAGREEX. 
 
 Beyond the farthest march 
 
 Of the westward moving host, 
 Whose wave advanced, retreated, 
 
 Oft broken, never lost. 
 His father, his mother, 
 
 His brothers, one by one, 
 In the great wood laid down 
 
 And with him there were none. 
 
 With Sr. Clair he battled 
 
 Against the Indian host, 
 Where girt with blood and fire 
 
 He fought till all was lost. 
 His rifle at the Rapids, 
 
 Spoke sharpest under Wavne, 
 Where Turtle and his bands 
 
 Were shattered, routed, slain. 
 
 In the later time of blood. 
 
 When Tecumtha and his band. 
 Proctor and his redcoats, 
 
 Were ravaging the land; 
 His rifle in his hand, 
 
 The bravest there he stood, 
 Not behind the fort walls, 
 
 But in the outer wood. 
 
 He and his fellows met 
 Tecumtha in the fight, 
 
 Scourging them so sorely, 
 They stole away in flight; 
 
 Away to far Thames bank. 
 River of their own land, 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 Where Tecumtha and Proctor 
 Made their last battle stand. 
 
 The redcoats stood a minute, 
 
 But Proctor fled before; 
 The rifles dashed through them, 
 
 Where they fought on the shore. 
 Our hunters met Tecumtha, 
 
 Who raised his savage yell; 
 Maintaining fiercest battle, 
 
 And fiercest fighting fell. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 TH;-. SHAGREEN. ' 
 
 n. 
 
 The loveliest of rivers 
 Was crystal Shagreen. 
 
 There the light ever quivers 
 In silvery gleam 
 
 On her face in bright shivers 
 With shadow and sheen. 
 
 She gathers her water 
 
 From fair wooded hills, 
 Herself the bright daughter 
 
 Of springs and pure rills. 
 In cascades they leap to her, 
 
 From rocks they dash down; 
 No stagnant pools creep to her 
 
 With stains for her crown. 
 
 No dam stayed her current, 
 
 No marsh marred her side, 
 No bridge spanned her torrent, 
 
 No mill claimed her tide. 
 The barge of the trader 
 
 To her was unknown; 
 Nor had the invader 
 
 Yet made her his own. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 Through a fair valley, turning, winding, 
 Winding, turning, trending to the north 
 
 The bright river flows; flowing, finding 
 New beauty, loveliness new, as forth 
 
 Her rapid shining way she takes 
 To Erie wide, stormiest of lakes. 
 
 And ever in her lovely valley, 
 
 Opening from the lake-sea south; 
 There first the sunshine loves to dally. 
 
 And the air soft comes, as from the mouth 
 Of summer; and through the teeming land 
 
 By her marge, along the valley's side, , 
 bpring hastens to lead forth her band 
 
 Of flowers, flooding with her tide 
 Of color, fragrance; flowing on 
 To summer, which there tarries long. 
 
 Luxuriant there the ox-balm grew, 
 
 Burdening the warm air of noon 
 With fragrance. Wild roses took the dew 
 
 Giving odor to the breeze of June; 
 And there the clematis twining threw 
 
 White along the bank her fringes bloom. 
 All summer's children, mints, and wild thyme, 
 Sunflowers, and yellow celandine. 
 
 There through the long day's lazy hours 
 Came the drowsy drone of lab'ring bees; 
 
 On flashing wing among the flowers 
 
 Went humming-birds; and mid sheltering leaves 
 
 Rained notes of song bird, gushing showers 
 Of music on odor-laden breeze; 
 
THE SH AGREE X. 
 
 Through the vale, in even' nook and deli 
 
 Some bright-winged, sweet-throated thing did dwell. 
 
 In the far off earliest of time, 
 
 Ere the white man's foot impressed the land, 
 All wood-haunting things, each in its kind, 
 
 Fearless came to the bright river's strand; 
 The tender ones knowing when to find 
 
 It free from peril of prowling band. 
 Boldly came the graceful doe to drink, 
 By her side her fa^^-n, led to the brink. 
 
 All the red hunters wandering wide. 
 That fair vaUey saw with longing eyes; 
 
 Envying such as might there abide; 
 Deeming it an earthly paradise; 
 
 With ^^ig^vam, canoe in which to glide 
 O'er the river bright 'neath summer skies, 
 
 Teeming earth, sun, stream, rare hunting-ground, 
 
 Fish, game, ease, where plenty did abound. 
 
 The warrrior there his wigAvam set, 
 
 His squaw secure reared her beans and corn, 
 
 And pappoose. The dusky maiden met 
 Her lover, while yet the sky was warm; 
 
 just as the flowers with dew were wet 
 And twilight lent her weird cliarm; 
 
 And from the thicket the whip-poor-will 
 
 Sent forth his note's mysterious thrill. 
 
 Ere the war the red men stole away ; 
 
 The vale was a human solitude; 
 Camps deserted, in the sunshine lay, 
 
 Empty and silent the wigwams stood. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 The sand bore no print of Indian foot; 
 
 There on the strand lay his unused boat; 
 Nor hunter, nor squaw, or Indian child. 
 Ever saw again that valley wild. 
 
THE SHAGREEX. 
 
 III. 
 
 INDIAN SPRING. 
 
 There is a lovely Indian spring, 
 
 Where one would gladly sit and sing 
 
 In the shade an idle song 
 
 Through the hours the live da\- long. 
 
 Itself the thing hath taught to bring 
 
 Its waters with sweet murmuring, 
 
 With sad'ning notes that do complain. 
 
 And mingled is a mirthful strain, 
 
 As from the cave its waters run 
 
 From darkness to the morning sun. 
 
 In ripples bright to golden day, 
 
 W^ith their soft, liquid voices. 
 
 Leaping on tneir shining way. 
 
 To the broad and flowing river, 
 
 W^here the sunbeams dance and quiver 
 
 And all the valley bright rejoices. 
 
 There lay the Indian woman's field, 
 
 Whose generous soil made ample yield 
 
 To tillage scant; and there still twine 
 
 Her gourds, and there her wild grapes cli 
 
 And ripen their dewy clusters 
 
 In azure and blooming lustres. 
 
 On elm the golden oriole, 
 
 From pensile bough her woven nest 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 Hangs in the sun, and there the soul 
 Of her mate floats down to "her breast 
 In pearl-hke notes. There comes the gush 
 From the throat of the hermit thrush. 
 When he sings the wild woods hush. 
 Here to this favored, lovely spot, 
 Our hunter came and reared his cot. 
 Tecumtha slain, the land had rest 
 In all the cabins of the West. 
 East, south, southwest, the battle burned, 
 But to our woods robed Peace returned. 
 In their shade tor many a year, 
 The hunter scout pursued the deer, 
 Hunted the prowling hermit bear, 
 The coward wolf slew in his lair. 
 Trapped the otter, trapped the beaver. 
 Speared the muskallonge in the river, 
 Shot the swan and shot the loon. 
 
 Killed the wild goose on the wing. 
 Slew wild-cats and fierce panthers. 
 
 Tapped the maples in the spring. 
 There our fathers found him 
 And built their cabins round him. 
 Their axes, the falling trees. 
 
 Sorely did confound hmi. 
 They frightened all the wild things, 
 
 His companions only. 
 The men there in the greenwood 
 
 Made him sad and lonely. 
 An ax was greater terror 
 
 Than tomahawk in hand. 
 And choppers were more fearful 
 
 Than a hostile savage band. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 He started in the forest, 
 
 When 'neath the ax there fell 
 A tree, more than once he did 
 
 To hear the Indian yell. 
 The smoke of settler's cabin 
 
 Sore troubled his old brain; 
 From his opening in the wood 
 
 He fled awav in pain. 
 Ever and ever going, 
 
 Forever to the West 
 The living tide was flowing. 
 
 And never svould it rest; 
 He. never could escape it, 
 
 And never more be blest. 
 
20 
 
 THE HUNTER OF 
 
 PAUL LYNN. 
 
 There came one day into the wood 
 
 A stranger youth, of bearing high, 
 Just out of school; of lineage good, 
 
 A smiling lip, a laughing eye; 
 Showing him not of churlish blood; 
 Sparkling gay like spring-blue sky, 
 And something of the uncommon, 
 Alike pleasing man and woman. 
 
 Broad-shouldered, tall, and lithely formed; 
 
 Straight, round, and slender in the flank, 
 His upper hp not yet adorned 
 
 By the gods with beard. Manly, frank, 
 Nor mental gifts had nature scorned 
 To give; nor spirit bold, which shrank 
 
 From aught. Since red men fled the wood 
 In its shade no such form had stood. 
 
 He came with springy step and free. 
 With rifle armed, of latest make. 
 To seek beneath the greenwood tree. 
 
 The elk, panther, whate'er doth take 
 Cover there; and, as one could see. 
 His was the spirit that would stake. 
 On venture rash, howe'er it rose. 
 And laughing turn to face all foes. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 21 - 
 
 In hunter's ways he had no skill, 
 
 Wood-craft to him an art unknown. 
 Quick eye, true hand, and steady will, 
 
 Patience and hope, were all his own. 
 Some man he queried for to fill 
 
 The place of mentor, and was shown 
 The way to the old hunter's cot. 
 As of all men the man he sought. 
 
 The hunter old of the Shagreen, 
 
 Xamed Stead — "hunter," "trapper," "Scout Stead" 
 Called by men. The youth straight to him 
 
 Through the valley journeyed, and said. 
 In manly^ way — " I am Paul Lynn, 
 Come from the East, and I am led 
 To seek a place by your side, till 
 Something I learn of hunter's skill." 
 
 The old man stood at his cot door, 
 
 Where western trees screened out the sun; 
 Heard Paul amazed, as him before 
 
 Stood the young man. So bright an one 
 He had not seen, and o'er and o'er 
 
 He scanned him. Down the valley lone 
 He turned his eyes, as if he sought 
 Some missing thing, and stood in thought. 
 
 " Paul Lynn, you said?" "Yes, Paul Lynn." " - 
 
 To him the hunter — " My sister's son. 
 Died 'fore you was born. So like him,— 
 
 I tho't 'twas 'is ghost. Yit that one 
 Was dark. The chance is purty slim 
 
 For game, young man. Sence the folks cum 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 Somehow the river seemed to tie me, 
 So I let 'em scatter by me." 
 
 Paul smiled to hear the old man talk, 
 
 Knowing 'twas five miles to the door 
 Nearest him. A much longer walk 
 To the next one; yet o'er and o'er 
 He mourned them, as is they did balk 
 Him of life. Much he did deplore 
 The falling tree, so far away, 
 Which thus let in the upper day. 
 
 The woods had ceased to be a home, 
 He should go forth, always fearing, 
 Far from the river now to roam ; 
 
 Would lose him in smoky clearing; 
 All the wild things were making moan 
 That the pressing feet were nearing 
 Their deepest haunts, and the axe's 'd1( 
 Was laying all the wild wood low. 
 
 E'en at the Cuyahoga's mouth 
 
 Near, men were building a city. 
 To leave this valley he was loth, 
 Surely 'twas a monstrous pity, 
 But since Paul came they could both 
 Go farther West. There his ditty 
 Ended. There was the Sandusky 
 And farther on the bright Maumee. 
 
 Paul's rifle took the old man's eye, 
 So very funny seemed the lock. 
 
 He wanted the young man should try 
 Its force, and showed to him a hawk, 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 Sitting against the bright, blue sky, 
 
 Beyond rifle range, the old man thought. 
 Paul raised his rifle where he stood; 
 An instant it rang through the wood. 
 
 \\'ondering, the old man raised his hand; 
 
 Such feat of rifle could no one tell. 
 Sure as on earth his feet did stand 
 
 From off his perch the fish hawk fell, 
 Ere the rifle-crack. In the land 
 
 "Was ne'er a thing so wondrous well. 
 Long in amaze the old man stood, 
 Quest'ning if this could be made good. 
 
 Looking over the river's brim 
 
 At distance on the farther side, 
 He saw a single " dipper " swim — 
 
 Dippers all flint-lock guns deride — 
 ■" I'd like to see ye try't on him," 
 Incredulous the old man cried; 
 
 And at his words outspread its wing 
 On the river, a lifeless thing. 
 
 " W'elL well," tliC old man said; 
 
 " I an' ole shell-bark may be laid 
 Aside to die and rust. Xo Stead 
 
 E'er saw the likes o' that." He made 
 The youth welcome to all he had 
 
 In the world. " O we will make head 
 'Gainst these new times. I'm real glad, 
 That int' the thinin' woods you come; 
 An' you so like dead Nancy's son. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 But that 'are rifle '—There he stopt. 
 
 Words had no power to express 
 His wonder; nor had yet his thought 
 
 Full form. This youth had come to bless 
 His later years. He came unsought, 
 He and his gun, in his distress, 
 When the noisy settlers did invade, 
 His forest sanctuary and shade. 
 
 Many a long and wand'ring raid, 
 
 'Neath arches of the forest wide. 
 Were by the active hunters made; 
 
 And often was the rifle tried 
 On bears, and deer; whatever strayed 
 On hill, or plain, or river's side. 
 That came within the younger eye 
 And rifle range, was sure to die. 
 
 But not so quick of trapper's art — 
 
 Conceal his hand, lay hidden snare, 
 Allure, decoy, not his the part. 
 
 But track a panther to his lair. 
 Strong hand and quick, and bold of heart 
 To face a prowling wolf or bear. 
 And strike them in fair open fight. 
 His nature was, and his delight. 
 
 And daily as the year grew wan. 
 
 And nightly by the cabin fire, 
 As more he saw the borderman 
 
 The younger loved and did admire. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 His fame through all the forest ran, 
 And thanks were his, as without hire 
 The game he slew, where cabins stand, 
 He laughing gave with open hand. 
 
 In the valley warm the autumn lay, _ 
 
 Its golden steps were in the trees, 
 The eve of summer was the day. 
 
 And in her arms the passing breeze, 
 Bore from the trees their leaves away, 
 And still was heard the hum of bees. 
 And smiling ran the dimpling river. 
 Rippling m the sun as ever. 
 
 Millions countless, on tireless wing, 
 
 Of pigeons, darkening morning air. 
 Came in clouds, themselves to fling 
 
 In storms, through all the forest, where 
 The beech-nuts dropped. Each gen'rous pair 
 With them their stout-grown offspring bring;. 
 In smothered thunder they rise in flight, 
 And wing to rest through coming night. 
 
 The river's breast still floats the swan 
 
 In stately fleets. The wild goose there. 
 Swims secure, and still at dawn 
 
 The splendid buck comes with the deer,. 
 His doe, by her a dappled fawn, 
 To drink the water cool and clear, 
 
 Browse on the herbage rank and sweet, 
 And print the earth with dainty feet. 
 
 The thickets from, the mother bear 
 Leads her cubs, to the bottom-land, 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 Where the wild plum tree golden fair 
 Ripens its fruit. The wolf his band 
 Trains for the hunt, and snuffs the air, 
 Teaching the young to run or stand. 
 All through the wood each thing with life 
 Makes ready for the winter's strife. 
 
 Long time dwelt in the young man's mind 
 
 Memory of^the wondrous days 
 When a pupil he learned to find, 
 Of forest life the pleasant ways; 
 The ways of beasts of every kind, 
 And how to thread the wildest maze, 
 In all this lore a student apt. 
 With eager heart and soul enrapt. 
 
 Pew excelled Paul Lynn on shore, 
 
 None on the river's swelling tide, 
 Tish spear, Indian paddle, oar 
 
 The bark canoe to drive, and guide 
 Whatever craft the flood up bore; 
 To dart into the flashing side 
 
 Of muskallonge, the shining spear. 
 
 Few men could boast themselves his peer. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 WINTER IX THE WOODS. 
 
 When winter set his frozen reign 
 
 Triumphant o'er the conquered world, 
 And through the forest shone a plain 
 
 Of gleaming white; and southward hurled 
 His ice spears, when the flowers slain 
 Lay hidden 'neath his flag unfurled. 
 Then binding on the Indian shoe. 
 Paul traversed the wide realm of snow. 
 
 Saw Cleveland, Erie's future queen. 
 
 And Painesville on her river Grand; 
 And every cabin where a gleam 
 
 Of light shone out, in all that land. 
 With his rifle he oft was seen 
 And sometimes 'twas an ashen wand 
 He bore, as through the forest glades 
 He passed upon his sylvan raids. 
 
 Well armed he made a famous drive 
 
 'Gainst elk, pushing them in flight. 
 Through all the day, nor ceased at eve, 
 
 He harried them through all the night. 
 A noble herd — twenty and five, 
 All might he slay, but in his sight 
 They looked pitiful, so for food 
 He chose — children hungered in the wood. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 The elder hunter kept the traps, 
 
 Cured pelts, kept the hut, when Paul 
 His degree had taken. When haps 
 Befell he strode out, helped to haul 
 In the slain, filling up the gaps 
 
 With pipe, sleep, tale of border brawl, 
 St. Clair and Wayne; of frontier life, 
 Indian forage, and scouting strife. 
 
 The old man had power to spin 
 
 A tale with all the magic charm 
 Of minstrel old; so thought Paul Lynn, 
 
 Simple, direct, taking a form 
 Rythmic — poetic. It could win 
 
 Him ever, as th'old man grew warm 
 In legend quaint, of other time, 
 Having of eld its touch of rime. 
 Strange though it seem, the old man had 
 A Bible, soiled, and smoked, and worn; 
 His one book cherished. It was sad 
 His love for it, battered and torn; 
 The dearest thing to make him glad. 
 
 Treasure through all his wand'rings borne, 
 Tho' no word had he ever read. 
 Nor his father, nor brothers dead. 
 The Bible was his mother's book. 
 
 She died full fifty years ago. 
 She read it; the old man's voice shook 
 
 When he told Paul of her, and so 
 Did Nancy's son. Paul Lynn took 
 The long unread book, turned unto 
 The first yellow page, smoked and old. 
 And told word by word all its gold; 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 From the great — "' In the beginning,, 
 
 God made the heavens and earth ' ' — 
 The wondrous tale. AH the sinning. 
 And wandring, since man had birth 
 The chosen were forever bringing 
 
 On their o^-n heads and children, dearth 
 Of evil doing. The rapt man 
 Heard, heard eager, as the story ran. 
 
 To him it was a ston- new. 
 
 And came as new from God's finger. 
 No doubt troubled, all was true; 
 
 Over portions he would hnger, 
 And asked young Paul to shed the dew 
 Of comment; become a bringer 
 
 Of light. So trusting the young head. 
 Paul asked himself for hght to lead. 
 'Twas strange, this boast of his college 
 
 Going into that forest ^^"ild ; 
 Giving yet receiving knowledge, 
 
 From this grand old untutored child, 
 "\Miose heart and nature in the foliage 
 Of the woods, like Adam's ere beguiled . 
 Arose responsive to the Hght, 
 Seeking a hand to lead him right. 
 As on and on the lesson went. 
 
 Oft untouched his traps he left. 
 List'ning — ever his heart intent, 
 
 On the great word; his soul bereft 
 Of other thought, his old head bent. 
 
 To catch each word. The night was cleft. 
 And through the night as through the da\ 
 He barkened, nor cared to turn away. 
 
30 
 
 THE HUNTER OF 
 
 Of all the book the latest strain 
 
 The tale of Mary's blessed son — 
 How he bro't to the world again 
 
 Life and hope; he, the chosen one, 
 Took the old man's heart. His soul long lain 
 In darkness, uprose. When 'twas done 
 That soul went forth in the new hght, 
 Secure from out its ancient night. 
 
 The long cold winter went at last. 
 
 Gathered his ice spears, hied him north 
 Over frozen Erie. His blast 
 
 Changed to a softened breeze, and forth 
 The high sun from his south did cast 
 His kindhng rays o'er all the earth, 
 CaUing the streams to wake in mirth, 
 And life renewing had its birth. 
 And one by one the happy hills 
 
 Threw off the white, looked forth and laughed; 
 Their covers ran in leaping rills, 
 
 From all the cabins children quaffed 
 The sunshine, heard the robin's thrills, 
 The bluebird's notes, and felt the waft 
 Of the south wind; and men did hght 
 In the maple woods camp fires bright. 
 In the wide world of wood and stream, 
 
 Came new forces with a gush ; 
 O'er the pasture lands flashed the sheen 
 Of verdure new; and warm and lush 
 Come the south rain. Then the Shagreen 
 Burst her fetters, and with a rush 
 Bore them from her valley warming, 
 Where new growths with life were forming. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 Marching March marched himself away, 
 The soft'ning skies of April lay 
 On the Shagreen the vernal charm 
 'Neath which her limped waters swarm 
 Her face with ev'ry bird that swims; 
 Her depths with all that oar with fins; 
 There the great sturgeon made his way, 
 In schools the pike and mullet play. 
 
 The muskallonge, the suckers small 
 All upward oaring, each and all 
 Eager searching where may be found 
 Instinctively for natal ground; 
 Oft pausing, turning to the shore. 
 All the small branches they explore, 
 Where e're shoal water, sand, and sun 
 Give opening, they are sure to run. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 PAUL'S FIND. 
 
 When the twilight deepened 
 
 To darkness in the wood, 
 At the river's side Paul his boat untied, 
 
 And rowed it o'er the flood. 
 
 On the jack at the prow, 
 
 Burnt a torch bright and free, 
 A spear in his hand he took from the land 
 
 And all alone went he. 
 
 He rowed against the tide. 
 
 He rowed him to the south. 
 His torch's light lit up the night, 
 
 He rowed him to the mouth 
 
 Of lippling Sandy Creek, 
 
 Fully two miles or more. 
 And there he landed, his boat he stranded, 
 
 And stepped upon the shore. 
 
 He stood upon the shore; 
 
 The night was dark and chill 
 Under the trees, and save the breeze 
 
 The wood was hushed and still. 
 
 A flaming torch he took 
 
 Of crackling hick'ry bark. 
 And on the land, with spear in hand, 
 
 He stood a shining mark. 
 
THE SHAGREEX. 
 
 Up the creek he took a step, 
 
 Steps he took but three", 
 When by the hght the strangest sight 
 
 That ever was, saw he, 
 
 A maiden passing fair 
 
 Redined against a tree; 
 Upon the ground in sleep profound 
 
 Or in a swoon was she, 
 
 Sure never did it hap 
 
 To errant youth before, 
 Standing all bright in torch's light, 
 
 To find upon the shore 
 
 A maiden peerless sleeping ■ 
 
 In the wild wood alone; 
 Her dooping head 'gainst elm tree laid. 
 
 That o'er her sheltering stood. 
 
 Its stalwart broad high feet, 
 
 It reached out her around, 
 As if to bless, hold, and caress; 
 
 There her the young man found. 
 
 He stood in great amaze, 
 
 In wonder there he stood; 
 His torch's gleam Ht up the stream, 
 
 And border of the wood. 
 
 Sure it must be a dream, 
 
 Of sleep a vision bright; 
 He cast his eye up in the sky. 
 
 And turned him from the light. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 He looked into the sky, 
 
 The stars, up through the leaves, 
 Where on the river the light did quiver, 
 
 And at the darksome trees. 
 
 Then at the maiden sleeping, 
 
 There in the savage wild , 
 Of years fifteen, sure ne'er was seen 
 
 Such sweet and winsome child. 
 
 Some sad and sore mischance 
 
 Had led her feet astray. 
 In the wild wood where beast of blood 
 
 Might rend her life away. 
 
 Scarce was she past childhood. 
 Scarce touching fifteen years; 
 And on her face were traces 
 Of undried, unwiped tears. 
 Scanty seemed the garments 
 To save her tender body 
 From the chilliness of April, 
 The coldness of the ground. 
 O, pitiful, most pitiful," 
 Said the young man, Paul Lynn ; 
 Some sorry, sad disaster, 
 A sore misadventure 
 Hath led her feet astray; 
 Alone in the great forest, 
 The awful wild wood savage, 
 In the chill night alone. 
 The dark and earless night , 
 To wander lost, bewildered, 
 Till weary and overcome 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 35 
 
 She sank in fatal slumber, 
 
 Here by the dark river, 
 
 Left in fearful keeping 
 
 Of the wild things of the wood. 
 
 Prowling wolf, nor panther 
 
 Hath power her to harm. 
 
 Una in her whiteness, 
 
 Was guarded by a lion. 
 
 Bless the precious Father 
 
 That worthy I am held; 
 
 That I have been hither. 
 
 Led to become her cheer. 
 
 For God's love to save her." 
 
 He dropped his shining spear, 
 
 On an old , moss-grown log 
 
 The blazing torch he placed. 
 
 Tenderly drew nigh her, 
 
 Reverently knelt by her, 
 
 As if her grace seeking. 
 
 Heard the murmur of her lips, 
 
 The moaning in her sleep. 
 
 Restlessly she turned her. 
 
 As suffering in her sleep. 
 
 Turned, and her eyes opened, 
 
 Her dark and wondrous eyes. 
 
 Looked around with surprise 
 
 Into eyes that met hers. 
 
 Reached him her small browned hand. 
 
 As instant him she trusted. 
 
 " O, I dreamed of my mother. 
 
 Of the blessed Lord jesus. 
 
 And you they sent to me. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 To save me, sent you here. 
 
 0, I am so — so glad! 
 
 I tho't that I should die. 
 
 I was lost! I was lost! 
 
 And you they sent to me. 
 
 I am so glad! so, so glad! " 
 
 Tears gushing from her eyes. 
 
 He gently her lifted. 
 
 And tenderly supported. 
 
 Chilled, benumbed, o'er wearied. 
 
 She could not stand unaided, 
 
 And further she explained: 
 
 " I went to the sugar camp 
 
 Of my uncle Gilbert, 
 
 And when I would return. 
 
 Following the creek up 
 
 It ran the other way. 
 
 So I went the wrong way. 
 
 Went from my home away. 
 
 Went and went and never 
 
 Came I to our cabin; 
 
 But wandered like the children 
 
 In the pitiful old story, 
 
 1, a great foolish baby." 
 Here came a flood of tears. 
 
 " I called and called; none heard me. 
 Dared not call very loud — 
 The dark night hath no ears, 
 Is huge and full of darkness 
 Filled with trees, filled with brooks. 
 I cried, none came to me; 
 And on and on I wandered, 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 Keeping ever by the creek; 
 
 Praying God and jesus, 
 
 Calling my dead mother 
 
 Till I came to this river, 
 
 Cold and dark and awful , 
 
 It sent through me a chill, 
 
 When in a swoon I fell. 
 
 I woke chilled and hopeless, 
 
 Dragged me to this old tree, 
 
 Old tree strong and lovely, 
 
 And laid me down to die. 
 
 I pulled my skirts round me, 
 
 And said, Now I lay me 
 
 Down to die. " She was o'er come; 
 
 Stood trembling with a chill 
 
 In the arms of Paul Lynn, 
 
 Who shed tears as she did. 
 
 "Gilbert, That's miles away. 
 
 We will go to Indian Spring; 
 
 There's an old hunter there. 
 
 Will give you warm shelter." 
 
 "O, you're Paul Lynn," she said, 
 
 And as she could not walk 
 
 He took her in his arms. 
 
 And bore her to his boat. 
 
 There he had a huge robe — 
 
 A bear's skin the center 
 
 Set round with pelts of wolves. 
 
 Sable-trimmed, lined with fur. 
 
 He had oft slept in it 
 
 Bedded in the dry snow. 
 
 Her enveloped in it, 
 
 Soft in the boat he laid. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 His own cap of otter 
 Placed on her shining head, 
 Which rested on the gunwale. 
 With his prow turned northward 
 He sent the little shallop 
 Flashing down the river, 
 Frightening the muskrats, 
 Sending down the torch-light 
 Into the crystal waters, 
 Scaring the muscallonge, 
 Making the huge sturgeons 
 Turn their filmy fish eyes 
 Upward to the flashing 
 Torch-light, and the oar-blades. 
 The maiden in her fur robe, 
 With Warmth returning to her. 
 In a pleasant drowse lay, 
 Her head 'gainst the gunwale; 
 Her eyes unwinking, half closed, 
 Saw things gliding past her; 
 Saw over her the bright stars; 
 Saw the trees come out in light, 
 And fly into the dark night; 
 Heard the geese in the river, 
 As in fear the wild things shy. 
 Got on wing, with much plashing; 
 Heard the note of boding owl. 
 Heard the howHng of the wolves. 
 Nor knew of that the portent. 
 There was peace in her child heart, 
 And rest in her weary Hmbs; 
 The fright was past, the horror 
 Had died out from her heart; 
 
THY. SHAGREEN. 
 
 Christ had watched over her, 
 She was foolish to be scart. 
 He had sent this lovely being, 
 Strong and brave, to save her; 
 And whether man or Avoman, 
 She did not think or care. 
 She had heard of the old scout, 
 The name of the 5^oung hunter, 
 And knew that this was him. 
 When they reached the landing 
 She heard him call the old man, 
 Knew- Paul took her in his arms, 
 Her head upon his shoulder, 
 And bore her into the hut. 
 There at once she brightened. 
 With her senses all awake. 
 Could you have seen the vronder 
 In the old hunter's ej^es, 
 W^hen within the fuU light 
 He saw this maiden bright ; 
 Had she been an Indian, 
 A nymph of the green wood, 
 A thing of air celestial, 
 Not of earth, immortal. 
 Of dreamland a \ision — 
 Of these, had she been either, 
 He'd not been more astonished. 
 They placed her by the fire. 
 On a seat, with down cushioned. 
 As she had been a princess ; 
 And all their store of dainties 
 They set proiuse before her. 
 And left to her to choose. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 No nymph of poets singing, 
 
 No maid of lover's fancy, 
 
 Ever made such havoc 
 
 As now, this maid of fifteen; 
 
 This precious rescued damsel, 
 
 And ne'er was love so happy 
 
 To see the loved one feast. 
 
 As was now blessed Paul Lynn, 
 
 To see his wiUing pris'ner. 
 
 Then the older hunter, 
 
 His moccasins adjusted, 
 
 Drew his belt tighter round him. 
 
 Pushed off into the night, 
 
 The starry night and chill, 
 
 Through the darkened forest. 
 
 To tell the uncle Gilbert 
 
 Of the maiden's rescue. 
 
 Stoutly Paul insisted 
 
 That should be his mission. 
 
 Stead more stout resisted 
 
 And pushed off through the wold. 
 
 Paul mustered all his blankets. 
 
 The canvas of his sail-boat, 
 
 And formed a cunning chamber. 
 
 And within, a Httle cot. 
 
 With a mattress of fine hay, 
 
 Fragrant and perfumed. 
 
 And on it the fur robe. 
 
 And there the tender maiden 
 
 L.aid herself in slumber, — 
 
 Sleep blissful, after saying 
 
 The prayer her mother taught her. 
 
 Who can tell of the emotion. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 41 
 
 The gratitude and wonder 
 That stirred the soul Paul L_\nn 
 As he thought it all over; 
 How he came to go that night, 
 Go out upon the river, 
 Go up to Sandy creek, 
 And land upon that shore, 
 And find there this maiden — 
 This rare and lovely maiden, 
 E'er ill could come to her. 
 And then he knelt him down 
 Upon the cabin floor, 
 And his joy and thankfulness 
 To God he did outpour. 
 
 4 
 
THE HUA TER OF 
 
 VII. 
 
 NELL'S STORY. 
 When the notes of the Oriole 
 
 Came down from the tree, 
 Forth tripped the merry maiden 
 
 O'er the flowery lea, 
 As beautiful as an earth-born 
 
 Damsel e'er coula be. 
 
 •She lan out to the Indian spring, 
 
 Bathed her hands and face; 
 -And turned she then to Paul Lynn, 
 
 Saying with child grace — 
 Answering question of her name 
 
 Dimples in her face. 
 '" I am called Ellen Maynard, 
 
 And Puritan my race." 
 
 If he last night had wondered 
 
 At her loveliness there. 
 This morning as she greeted him. 
 
 The sun-rays in her hair, 
 Her heavy hair of fine-spun gold. 
 
 Complexion lily fair; 
 Her supple form was round, and tall, 
 
 Winsome her girlish air; 
 Sure on land, or in poet's dream, 
 
 Was ever maid so rare. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 43 
 
 She warbled like the oriole, 
 
 Her notes as rich and glad, 
 And for her gush of melody 
 
 The same good reason had, 
 A well of music in her soul. 
 
 Her heart it had been sad, 
 Had she not sung as birds sing. 
 
 In gush of happy words; 
 In twitt'ring notes in sparkling play, 
 
 As do the happy birds. 
 
 She ran down to the river glad, 
 
 Then ran back to the spring. 
 Where Paul asked her to tell him more 
 
 Of the unhappy thing, 
 That happened on the day before; 
 
 And sent her wandering. 
 She paused a moment in her glee, 
 
 As bird prepares to sing, 
 And thus it was her story ran, 
 
 In pleasant murmuring. 
 
 All the maple trees were running, 
 And the honey bees were humming, 
 And the pleasant breeze was coming, 
 Everything was just as cunning 
 As cunning can be. 
 
 The little streams were flowing. 
 The little flowers blowing, 
 And all the sky was glowing. 
 And I was running, going, 
 Everything to see. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 " All round the woods were ringing, 
 And everything was singing, 
 Life, hope, and joy were springing, 
 And the happy days were bringing, 
 A wonder and a charm. 
 
 " The butterflies were flying. 
 Their wings with flowers vieing. 
 The zephyrs soft were sighing. 
 The earth all bright was lying 
 In colors glad and warm. 
 
 " As for me, I went tripping, 
 I could not walk for skipping, 
 And ever I was flitting. 
 And constantly was sipping 
 
 The syrup sweet and warm. 
 
 So bright, so short the day did seem 
 It flashed away, as silver sheen 
 It came to be mid afternoon. 
 Ere one short hour had come and gone; 
 And then I was to start for home. 
 Our cabin stood just up the creek, 
 And on its banks so bright and thick 
 Grew buttercups as sweet and warm; 
 And other flowers lent their charm; 
 I never thought of any harm. 
 In walking home on its sweet banks. 
 On which the tall trees stood in ranks. 
 I sauntered to the shining stream. 
 Plucking flowers amid the green, 
 And when on its bank I stood. 
 And gazed into its rippling flood. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 It seemed to run the other way. 
 As I said, not from, but toward home. 
 
 I tho't 'twas strange, but did not stay 
 To think, but went hurrying on. 
 Not up the creek, but by it, down; 
 Plucking the flowers as I went; 
 Picking, culling, only intent 
 Not to wander from the stream, 
 
 With no thought.! could be wrong, 
 But onward went as in a dream 
 
 The shining waters' banks along. 
 So bright they sparkled in the sun, 
 
 I turned to see the shadows play 
 On its current, where it run 
 
 Rippling in the fading ray 
 Of the slowly parting light; 
 
 And I noticed that the day 
 Was almost done, and the night 
 Was making in the dusky wood. 
 Around me was but solitude; 
 Surely I was almost home ! 
 Then I walked fast, and then I ran; 
 Ran until I was out of breath. 
 
 But still 1 hurried, hurried on. 
 I was scared almost to death. 
 
 As I thought 1 might be wrong. 
 I tried to think — that was the way; 
 
 I dared not turn me and go back. 
 
 If I had, and kept on the track, 
 I would not then have gone astray. 
 But I was lost, bewildered, lost. 
 So madly lost the creek I crost; 
 Yet wandered ever, ever down , 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 Further and further from my home. 
 
 Wearied I grew, but did not stop, 
 
 But hurried taster on and on ; 
 
 My breath came hard, my head was hot; 
 
 Wild things ran past, I heeded not; 
 
 I tore my clothes, I tore my hands; 
 
 My poor feet were wet and cold ; 
 
 I cried in sobs, I was not bold 
 
 Enough to shriek, or loudly call. 
 
 And if I had 'twould so befall 
 
 In all the savage forest lands 
 
 There weie not but prowling bands 
 
 To hear me. Weary, scarce could stand, 
 
 And all around me came the night, 
 
 I scarce could catch a gleam of light; 
 
 I kept near the running stream; 
 
 Its murmur heard, as in a dream. 
 
 And still I urged my weary feet 
 
 Till I came on this bright river. 
 So shining now, then black and deep. 
 
 It gave me a mortal shiver; 
 And, as I said, right down I sank, 
 Right there upon the lonely bank." 
 She ceased, nor could repress her tears, 
 At memory of her woes and fears. 
 And Paul, weeping, by her stood, 
 In sympathy; when from the wood 
 To them the old hunter strode. 
 The tale he told made Ellen weep; 
 Her folly bitterly did she chide. 
 That it had caused distress so deep 
 To those who love and home supplied; 
 Since in childhood she was reft 
 
TH^ SHAGREEX. 
 
 Of parents, and an orphan left. 
 
 Her uncle thought she had reached home, 
 
 And there the ever careful aunt, 
 
 As home the maiden did not come, 
 
 Supposed she lingered at the camp; 
 
 And it was far into the night 
 
 When they learned, vnih sore affright, 
 
 She was not at their neighbor's door, 
 
 But alone in the awful wood. 
 
 With prowling beasts. That hap no more 
 
 The fair, bright one who long had stood 
 
 Their child, would see the morning light 
 
 Unless the\^ snatched her from the night. 
 
 They iired guns, and sounded horns, 
 
 And rushed into the forest wild; 
 
 Lit great fires; made loud alarms, 
 
 And frantic called the wand'ing child; 
 
 'More beacons lit, made more acclaim. 
 
 But lights and sounds alike were vain. 
 
 Then as in a great despair, 
 
 Silent they in darkness stood, 
 Risen from the outbreathed prayer, 
 
 All that was left; when from the wood 
 Came hunter Stead, with flying feet, 
 God's messenger with'answer sweet. 
 
 None e're have seen the dead arise. 
 None have met the shining feet 
 
 Of God's bright ones down from the skie 
 As such the old man they did greet. 
 
 With rapture wild his stor\' heard, 
 
 And from God received his word. 
 Tv. as yery rare that htmter Stead 
 
 Was in a settler's cabin seen. 
 
48 
 
 THE HUNTER OF 
 
 Nor rested there his gray old head, 
 
 Tho' often in the forest green. 
 But there reluctant through the night, 
 And went when came morning light. 
 
 His last words— ' ' Ere the rising sun 
 Shall climb the brightest hill of noon, 
 
 Paul Lynn will bring the rescued one 
 To you, bright as when lost her bloom." 
 
 Then through the wood with hunter's stride, 
 To Indian spring the old man hied. 
 
 It was by its lisping well 
 The hunter told his tale to Nell. 
 
 The wierd thing had kept her near. 
 Its liquid notes had charmed her ear. 
 
 And listening to their murmurmg 
 She declared there were two voices: 
 
 A tale of sorrow one doth smg, 
 And one in low mirth rejoices. 
 
 As thus she spoke of glee and wail. 
 
 Stead told her an old Indian tale 
 
 Which he from a red hunter had; 
 
 A story of a woman, sad, 
 
 A little, simple, touching thing, 
 
 A legend of that lisping spring. 
 
 I may not now the story tell 
 
 As 'twas told that morn to Nell. 
 'Twas all about a warrior's wife. 
 
 Who in the forest with her child, 
 Found him there bereft of life; 
 
 Her anguish wails in accents wild, 
 Then turns to soothe the tender babe. 
 
 That answers her with child mirth glad. 
 Their voices ever haunt the spring, 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 Ever and ever murm'ring. 
 The hunter that his thirst would stint 
 
 And stoops the crystal spring to quaff, 
 Ever hears the mother's plaint, 
 
 Ever hears the pappoose laugh. 
 The story Paul could hardly wait — 
 
 That morning's meal was in his wish. 
 The hunter shy could hardly eat, 
 
 B}' Ellen's side, his breakfast dish. 
 Excuse he made to leave his seat 
 
 And dainty smoking broiled fish 
 And fragrant coffee. To their fare 
 He left the lovely hungry pair. 
 
 The old man drew upon the shore 
 His largest boat — made all complete; 
 
 In oarlock placed each ashen oar; 
 That famous robe spread o'er the seat; 
 
 And when the pair, their repast done, 
 Came laughing out in morning sun, 
 
 He called them to the shining tide, 
 
 And o'er the little shallop's side 
 Paul Ellen helped to her own place, 
 
 And seated so her laughing face 
 Was brightly to the boatman turned, 
 
 Whose iron arm the water spurned. 
 Paul at her feet a place did find, 
 And 'gainst the gunwale sat reclined, 
 Where he might also share the grace 
 Of gazing on her lovely face. 
 Unconscious of their pleasure she 
 As simple child could ever be. 
 He was so brave and she so fair. 
 As in his eyes he held the pair, 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 'Twas given the old man to see 
 
 The thing between them that should be. 
 
 That wondrous thing, that could not fade, 
 That in their souls should never die, 
 
 That when their forms in dust were laid 
 Would brightly shine m upper sky. 
 Of this naught came to Paul Lynn's thought. 
 
 And nothing to the simple child; 
 His eyes her face contented sought. 
 
 From shining stream, she to the wild 
 Wooded banks, turned her laughing eyes. 
 Greeted each bend with new surprise. 
 Sure never had the glad Shagreen, 
 Upon her sheeny bosom seen, 
 Since dimpling in her mother spring, 
 Such winsome, bright, and lovely thing 
 As she who rode her silv'ry tide, 
 A youth her peer, herself beside. 
 The old man pushed them to the mouth 
 
 Of that same creek, whose tide in glee, 
 Came sparkhng in the sun. The youth 
 
 Pointed Nell to the grand elm tree, 
 Spreading and tall, between whose feet 
 He found the maiden in her sleep. 
 She wond'red that the place was bright; 
 
 The banks seemed to her wond'rous high. 
 Had seemed a place of endless night. 
 
 But beneath the morning sky 
 It smiled as bright as could be, " Yet — " 
 She stopped. With tears her eyes were wet. 
 They pushed beyond a mile or more. 
 And ran their prow upon the shore, 
 And Paul and Ellen from the strand. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 Clomb their way to higher land. 
 And long before the noontide burned, 
 The maiden to the loved returned. 
 Needless as hard it were to tell 
 What between them there befell. 
 To Paul was it given to see, 
 That in that house of forest tree, 
 In Ellen's Aunt a lady stood, 
 As in herself were marks of blood. 
 It was a long, bright afternoon. 
 
 The three went to the sugar camp, 
 To Ellen's uncle, where too soon 
 
 Came the hour for Paul to tramp, 
 Across the wood to Indian Spring, 
 Where Stead before the boat did bring. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 Of all things human it is strange 
 The power short time hath to change 
 The course of life; new life arrange. 
 Since yesternoon a simple child, 
 Tho'tless as child, went straying wild; 
 A youth by equal accident. 
 As sportsman on his game intent, 
 Strayed where the child exhausted lay, 
 And where ere morn she'd been the prey 
 Of savage beasts that near her stood, 
 Scenting and eager for her blood. 
 And bore her out to life and day. 
 Arise from this whatever may, 
 Is burden further of this lay. 
 
 From Indian spring to Gilbert's 
 
 It was surely some six miles. 
 
 'Twas much further as the crow flies, 
 
 Which seldom in a right line 
 
 Wings his way. Watch and be convinced. 
 
 All the long way (to young P. Lynn 
 
 Long or short as he was going 
 
 To see Nell, or from her turning) 
 
 Giant old trees stood in tall ranks; 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 Grand old whitewoods, splendid maples, 
 
 Lovely beeches, spreading elm trees, 
 
 Tallest ash trees, leaning basswoods. 
 
 With great hollows, making dens for 
 
 The largest bears ; towering oaks, 
 
 Noble chestnuts —Oh, there never 
 
 Was a grander wild wood forest 
 
 Than this_^pread out. With the great tree 
 
 This young Paul Lynn got well acquainted 
 
 E're June came round. Hardly a day 
 
 That he did not pass them, one way 
 
 Or the other. The simple fellow 
 
 Made no secret of his liking 
 
 For the maiden, and his wooing 
 
 Was so tho'tful, for such young man. 
 
 That the good aunt saw quite plamly 
 
 'Twas his nature. Full of reverence, 
 
 Great forbearance, all the more so 
 
 That he had rendered such service 
 
 The child unto. To him it seemed 
 
 Like seeking pay, so he never 
 
 Sought to draw her from the presence 
 
 Of her aunt, who fully knowing, 
 
 Fully trusting his high nature, 
 
 Gave him license, as she thought best, 
 
 To take Ellen on excursions 
 
 To the river, to Indian Spring; 
 
 She only wished they older were. 
 
 Such days were never since poets 
 
 Of Arcadia their legends sang, 
 
 As these days were to young Paul Lynn 
 
 And Xell Maynard. Two or three times 
 
 Aunt and uncle with them went. 
 
54 
 
 THE HUNTER OF 
 
 Very often the old hunter, 
 
 With Paul went through the forest, 
 
 And his Bible Nell read to him. 
 
 Always the book of his mother. 
 
 Essay several times the girl made. 
 
 To induce him to permit her 
 
 To teach to him the alphabet. 
 
 And so master the Bible text. 
 
 It was curious how the old man 
 
 Shyly evaded her offers, all. 
 
 He in his mind thought the Bible 
 
 Only could be read by Paul Lynn 
 
 Or Nell Maynard. That in his hands 
 
 Or another's, sure it would be 
 
 A book lifeless; lack God's spirit. 
 
 Which he devoutly was assured. 
 
 They breathed upon the holy word. 
 
 So it became oracle living. 
 
 In his own hands it would be cold 
 
 As a clod — dead, dull, and frozen. 
 
 The new world of love and brightness 
 
 To the young pair, ran on with June, 
 
 Leafy young June, month of roses. 
 
 There came one day to Indian Spring, 
 From the eastward, to Paul bearing 
 From his guardian, peremptory, 
 A letter curt he should return. 
 He hemad and hawed, walked round musing 
 For some days. No help came. He said 
 He was commanded by message 
 Which was binding, he must return; 
 Other reason gave he them none. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 So one bright day, toward the evening 
 
 He stood with Xell on the wild strand 
 
 Of the river, near the elm tree 
 
 Where he found her that night bless'ed. 
 
 There no kisses, no embraces, 
 
 They merely held each other's hands, 
 
 Hands clasped closely, nothing more. 
 
 No vows were said, these words only 
 
 By Paul Lynn : ' ' just so surely 
 
 As the sunshine shall not fail you; 
 
 As this river shall forever 
 
 Running, run on, run forever. 
 
 As surely to you will I come." 
 
 Then he turned him, leaped the boat in, 
 
 And Stead rowed him down the river. 
 
 Ellen standing on the landing. 
 
 Looked him after until a bend 
 
 Of the river hid his form from 
 
 Her dewy eyes, just at the bend 
 
 He rose and turned, and from his hand 
 
 He wafted back to her a kiss; 
 
 The first and only, then he vanished. 
 
 She then turned to aunt and uncle. 
 
 And they three clomb up the high bank. 
 
 River leaving, valley leaving. 
 
 Sad and lonely in the shadow, 
 
 Cold and lonely in the twilight. 
 
PART SECOND. 
 
 IX THE HANDS OF THE WORKERS. 
 
 Very strange it is when we come to scan 
 
 What appears the scheme of this creation; 
 God furnishes things in the rough, and man 
 
 Works them up. That must be the relation 
 
 Of the two in this joint obligation 
 Of working up and workms" out the job. 
 
 A leading race brought forward, a nation 
 Is built up, men in whose race natures throb, 
 The genius to form themselves workers fit for God. 
 
 In their fitting, training, they never dream 
 
 They are doing His work. Men toil on, blind, 
 
 Xot kno\\ing what they do. Some petty scheme 
 For their own gain, narrow, some trifling find 
 That carries them on for a day, their mind 
 
 Intent on their own purpose, shrivelled, small. 
 But really do God's work for mankind, 
 
 And mankind's owner. Thus for both, for all; 
 
 But for Him finally, who doth the whole enthrall. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 From this statement general one may draw 
 A subtler meaning, one high, refined. 
 
 All God's first handiwork is crude, bitter, raw. 
 He sends a skilled workman, who pours his mind, 
 His soul into them, and at once their kind 
 
 Are lifted up, perfected. This the law: 
 
 Take the dwarf, hard, sour, acrid crab-apple. 
 
 And behold the wonder, wrenched from the craw 
 Of nature. With what e'er man doth grapple, 
 He fights and surely wins for God and man a battle. 
 
 This was wrought out in every blade of grain, 
 Grass, plant, fruit, tree, brute. Whatever did 
 
 Man grasp with his mind, there was made great gam. 
 Where'er a rock, a clay, ore, coal, lay hid, 
 Or poison, or weed grew, there man was bid 
 
 To touch it with his recreating hand. 
 Lifting it, till no useless clod, or weed, 
 
 Or noxious thing should cumber all the land, 
 
 But in the great procession in due order stand. 
 
 The huge earth's self, whose surface man doth mar 
 And make, lies full within this mighty reach. 
 
 There's not a mountain ridge, wide desert, scar, 
 But as man's great needs his mind doth teach, 
 His hands strengthen, his soul uplift, shall each 
 
 Submision smiling bow, till over all 
 
 The wide domain extends, and every breach, 
 
 Made solid, full, and strong, in the great pall 
 
 Of man's lordship over the earth, under God's high 
 call. 
 
 Of all the material that can come 
 From God's hand, the rawest men surely are — 
 
THY. SHAGREEN. 
 
 5 
 
 Abject, savage, abased; yet they alone i 
 Can be to angels wrought, pass the bar 
 
 The worlds dividing. 'Twas for them the star 
 Which drew the the Magi from the East, afar, 
 
 Was lighted. Sure none shall be left abroad, 
 But grace to man, to weeds, to the great clod 
 
 Awarded, and all in time's fulness come to God. 
 
 To every thoughtful man his time is sad. 
 
 To us, this is one of wide backsliding; 
 Faith, foundations, all going to the bad; 
 
 From old truth all seem downward gliding, 
 
 Nothing in their places true abiding; 
 All the old garnered stores are squandered, lost; 
 
 No man gathering new, all men deriding 
 The well-known, grand methods of gain, God's cost; 
 Leave all things in a wide sea, to be forever lost. 
 
 God works not for any generation; 
 
 For many ages seemeth not to care; 
 Leaving them fallow in dead stagnation, 
 
 Rotting with certain decay; drifting where 
 
 Brood death and darkness, yet surely there 
 Are germinating the great seeds of time, 
 For new upiisings, which shall bear us far 
 
 Above all former summits. From the slime 
 Of dried up oceans, spring new continents sublime, 
 
 God vindicates himself to the ages; 
 
 For eternity he plans. For no man 
 Careth He. Mark loss and gain, the slender wages. 
 
 Measured by time, of working out the plan; 
 
 The eons of ages of this work scan; 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 Ere the ever changing earth did attain 
 Life, and from this, how many ages ran 
 Ere men. Partial loss and greater gain , 
 
 Is the great law of all, and ever shall remain. 
 
THE SHAGREEX. 
 
 11. 
 
 TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 Five years may look short or very lons^, 
 Dependent which way the eye is cast. 
 
 Time is lengthy, to one looking on, 
 And very short when the time is past. 
 
 So, measured by the thing to be done, 
 Time is short, or as if never gone. 
 
 To him adjudged a day to die 
 Time is an hour already fled; 
 
 Time never can be made to fly- 
 To him waitmg his dav to wed. 
 
 Five years given to change the earth 
 Is time very short for such a birth. 
 Trans m.ute a weed or grow a State — 
 For a lover long time to wait. 
 
 My reader sees Em growing quisical; 
 Em nothing if not metaphysical. 
 
 Five years have passed the western wood, 
 
 And made it less a solitude; 
 
 New cabins planted in the shade. 
 
 And here and there new openings made, 
 
 The older large, and larger grown, 
 
 And backward hath the forest flown, 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 And more and more been made to yield 
 Place for the settler's stumpy field. 
 For rough the process is to view 
 The change from savage old to new ; 
 To arts, to ways of civil life, 
 That change is one of war and strife. 
 
 The forming hand that would improve 
 Must first destroy. That is the law. 
 
 From the sour crab its limb remove 
 With the sharp knife, and leave it raw. 
 Until within the bleeding cleft. 
 Is placed the new scion, by the deft 
 Hand of Art. The wheat's tender sheen 
 Takes the place of forest green, 
 The apple follows the woody race, 
 The white lamb takes the fierce wolf 's pla 
 The lowing cow succeeds the deer, 
 The lazy swine the hermit bear; 
 Where browsed the elk now feeds the ox, 
 The dog IS there to chase the fox. 
 Only through destruction dire, 
 The chopper's axe, consuming fire. 
 Already roads and ways are made, 
 And bridges rude o'er streams are laid ; 
 The bright Shagreen herself was crost 
 By fords, and o'er her tide was tost 
 A bridge, to which her bed of rock 
 Gave footing. She hath felt the shock 
 Of the stone hammer, heard the shout 
 Of the ox-driver, sturdy lout — 
 Of the rude workers all— the cry 
 From which the timid deer doth fly; 
 The laughter, oaths, the answ'ring call, 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 The axe resounding, and the fall 
 Of trees upon her wooded banks, 
 Losing there the stately ranks; 
 Her waters darkened by the stains 
 Of broken earth, and washing rains. 
 
 George Gilbert was a man of thrift, 
 
 His notions were all sharp and clear; 
 His make-up fibrous, of that drift 
 
 Of men wrought out for purpose dear 
 To God, when in time the nft 
 
 Did open. O'er the ocean drear 
 Did hie; the hand that led, did sift. 
 
 And mould, and try, till did appear 
 The pattern fit, men to make and lift 
 
 To higher levels; their schooling here, 
 Perfected for the special work. 
 
 Placed on New England's dreary shore, 
 Where the hard tasks no man could shirk, 
 
 Climate, soil. Indians, till o'er 
 And o'er the stuff in them was wrought, 
 
 Hammered, drawn out, compacted, fused, 
 Chilled, hardened, until the sought 
 
 Form was found. Oft tried and used ; 
 Somewhat narrow — for there were drills 
 
 Needed; sharp — for there must be swords; 
 Condensed, weighty — for there were ills 
 The heavy hammer only kills. 
 Infused all through and over all, 
 The forming spirit, and the pall 
 Supreme, the awful fear of God. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 'Twas theirs to plant, build up a new 
 Race and nation. For them the rod 
 
 The hammer was, until the true 
 Fine fiber and right form appeared. 
 
 Ever true the old law remains, 
 Slow its movement, its process hard; 
 Partial losses for greater gains — 
 This is the price we ever pay; 
 Dark is the night for brighter day. 
 George Gilbert was of this new race, 
 
 For such its life school had made it. 
 His its soul, its form, its grace, 
 
 Faults, and limits. It hath laid its 
 Hand on its children for all time, 
 And eternity. Of this line. 
 His wife and Nell Maynard true. 
 And neighbors. Planted dn the new - 
 Generous soil, wild woods of the West, 
 
 Wide-stretching plains, great rivers free. 
 This type of men attain their best. 
 The come out, now, all men may see 
 Of this planting in Ohio's land, 
 Of George Gilbert, and all the band 
 Of his race. They gave her to stand 
 At the head of the Republic, and 
 The heart, soul, fiber, they gave the State, 
 As they made, so shall keep her great. 
 Of his own state, George only thought; 
 In these five years, had only sought 
 To enlarge his own little world, 
 And backward his strong hand had hurled 
 The wall of trees that round him stood, 
 Where he had made his footing good, 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 And never thought in all his toil 
 Of minghng man's soul with soil; 
 And crab-apples, things in the raw, 
 The outside form was all he saw. 
 
 His wife was of a finer strain, 
 Of long New England clergy line. 
 Of culture, soul, and fiber fine. 
 
 Traits long inherited remain. 
 
 Of George's thrift she was the soul. 
 
 His hand strong, rough — her's divine; 
 As did from his the forests roll, 
 
 Her's followed after to refine. 
 
 Save young trees to shade the spting, 
 Plant flowers and shrubs, trail a vine, 
 Throw over all the nameless thing 
 Which woman's hand alone can flin 
 
THE HUATER OF 
 
 III. 
 
 SPELL OF THE FOREST. 
 
 Endless the goods of the grand old wood, 
 
 To those who know the store, 
 Hidden in its peopled solitude. 
 
 Its treasures wild explore, 
 You will find it ever doth make good, 
 To those who know the core. 
 Its charm and endless variety, 
 Sweetness wild, without satiety. 
 
 On whom hath been laid the mighty spell 
 
 Of the wood, its spirit. 
 Drank deeply, her wild heart knoweth well, 
 
 And loves to draw near it; 
 Her flavor her pungency can tell. 
 One who doth inherit 
 
 The soul and life that there find home, 
 Ever longs in her wild ways to roam. 
 
 Her soul subtle, is elusive, shy, 
 
 A flavor felt, unseen. 
 Yet her children walk it ever by — 
 
 Haunts every tree and stream. 
 Giving her solace to all who fly 
 
 To her, a living beam 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 To all her dear ones who live therein. 
 In her heart no evil, shame, or sin. 
 
 His day's task done the border boy 
 
 Runs to her with a cry. 
 With gun or rod the youth with joy 
 
 From the cabin hurries by 
 Her margin to her depths; the maiden coy, 
 ]SIay there meet lover shy. 
 
 Endless resource the great resort, 
 Of all who may with her consort. 
 
 Forever in the heart doth Hnger 
 
 The spell she there hath laid 
 Never to be broken. Her finger, 
 
 Writes in the soul that strayed. 
 In nature strong, that once did bring her 
 
 Devotion; who her shade 
 Hath loved, remembrance never to change; 
 
 Love, which nothing ever can estrange. 
 
 Rem.embering I sit and close my eyes, 
 
 And lo! a mighty wood 
 Tosses its green billows to the sky's 
 
 Measureless solitude. 
 In me the old longing doth arise, 
 Again there to intrude. 
 
 There with sister, brothers, raise glad cries 
 And shouts, play there as we once played, 
 Its children wand'ring undismayed 
 
 Earth no more can bring me such day. 
 
 Memory is all that's left. 
 Ax and fire swept that wood away, 
 
68 
 
 THE HUNTER OF 
 
 And time hath from me reft 
 The loved. Where the pioneer held sway, 
 
 The stranger's hand hath cleft 
 
 Their homesteads. The loved names are gone, 
 Sculptured their burial stones upon. 
 
 Now Ellen was a real child 
 
 Of the forest — that is to say, 
 While she was not so very wild, 
 
 She had become in her sweet way 
 To all its subtle charms alive; 
 
 Felt in her pulse the weird play 
 Of its spirit, knew where it did hive 
 
 Its secrets, and all its sweets contrive. 
 
 Stead had many secrets told her 
 
 Of the forest, of the wild ways 
 Of its wild children; would hold her 
 
 By the hour, in the pleasant days; 
 And she had many sweet places 
 
 Wherein she held a sylvan court; 
 Dear hidden nooks, where the graces 
 
 Of the greenwood seemed to resort. 
 
 And she, this Ellen of the wood. 
 
 Had grown in beauty, as in height; 
 As sweetly wise as she was good; 
 
 Swaying by the unconscious right 
 Of virgin charm, as now she stood. 
 Undreaming, it in all men's sight, 
 Of maidenhood the paragon, 
 Sweet, simple, tender, brave and strong. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 A subtle and elusive spirit, 
 
 Like the aroma which the dew 
 From wood foliage doth inherit, 
 
 At twiUght's coming, which she drew 
 With the breath of wild violets, 
 The fragrance which the wood begets, 
 Breathed from her lips, surrounds her form, 
 Like perfume, a most potent charm. 
 
 At Indian Spring old hunter Stead 
 Found shelter for his whitening head. 
 Years have bent that giant form 
 That never bent to foe or storm. 
 He keeps his gun, he sets his traps, 
 Sometimes kills deer, takes water rats. 
 Sees clearings new, new rising smokes, 
 Xo more shuns men, he even brooks 
 Them at his hut. Oft to Gilbert's door 
 He goes, and talks forever o'er 
 The days and feats of young Paul Lynn, 
 And wonders what hath hap'd to him. 
 Shakes his old head and heaves a sigh. 
 Then looks away with dimming eye. 
 Four years before there came to him 
 A very strange, much talked of thing; 
 A deed of all the Indian Spring- 
 Tract, due recorded to him came; 
 John Westbrook, the grantor's name. 
 Save that, to him no other word. 
 No other on the deeds record. 
 
 Strangest of all the old man thought. 
 Some others also thought the same, 
 That in these years no rumor brought 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 A whisper of the young man's name, 
 Since that hour when the river's bend 
 
 Cut him off from Ellen's sight. 
 To her no message did he send, 
 Token, or word, however slight; 
 
 To the old man that seemed the end 
 When that sad day with night did blend. 
 
 Yet ever as he told the child 
 
 The doubt, unrest of his old heart, 
 For answer made, she brightly smiled. 
 
 As in his fear she had not part. 
 None had she. To her was given 
 
 Love, and trust. She'd never striven 
 With doubt. Hope and faith entire one, 
 
 Reigned in her heart and soul alone. 
 
THE SHAGREEX. 
 
 IV. 
 
 NELL'S FIXD. 
 
 These five years. Well, five years that June, 
 
 A very funnv thing befell. 
 
 I That is, — funny enough to tell. ) 
 Late it \vas in the afternoon, 
 Near nightfall, as I remember well; 
 
 Twilight — which the Scotch call gloaming. 
 Night was coming in the wood, 
 
 Through which Nell had been roaming 
 With her thoughts; liking solitude, 
 
 Just then, and half a mile or so 
 From home, and quite near that same creek. 
 
 Thinking of that time, long ago; 
 The forest there was without break; 
 There an old trail its way did take, 
 Across the creek, near a mire place. 
 Which it went round, making a trace 
 
 Through to the nver, where a ford 
 Gave crossing^ to the other side — 
 
 An old road leading the good Lord 
 Knew ^vhere. Xell knew it to the tide 
 Of the not far distant Chagrin ; 
 Walked it first that day, wixh Paul Lynn. 
 Well, as I just now was sa\ing. 
 The child was there idly straying, 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 When a curious noise she heard, 
 A starthng noise, not any word 
 Uttered by a man or woman, 
 Yet certainly it was human. 
 It startled Nelly very quick. 
 
 A smothered-gurgling cry of pain. 
 Which ended in a long-drawn groan 
 
 That frightened. Then it came again, 
 Followed by a distressful moan, 
 As one dying. I said Nell was brave, . 
 And also that she was alone. 
 And at the coming on of night, 
 
 The blood rushed in upon her heart, 
 And then a loud clear call she made. 
 
 ' ' Who is there, " and did forward start, 
 And on the bank in the dim light 
 
 Saw a dark mass, as something laid. 
 In and on the mire place. Her sight 
 Was at fault, and again she cried: 
 "What is it? " and there to her came 
 Response. Then she knew a man 
 And horse were there; the man involved. 
 Both sinking. The thing to be' solved 
 Was his instant rescue; and Nell 
 Saw it all — saw the way as well. 
 She picked up and threw much green brush, 
 Thick and strong on the miry mush, 
 
 Which on trial her did upbear. 
 On which she bravely made a push 
 
 To the smothered, helpless man. There 
 She raised his head, and freed a hand. 
 
 But had not strength to draw him out. 
 Not two yards on the bank did stand 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 73 
 
 A well grown sapling, lithe and stout; 
 She sprang to — dumb — and with her weight, 
 
 Bent it down and within the clasp 
 Of his freed hand. With the might 
 
 Of both, pushed to the utmost gasp, 
 Thev gained for use his other hand. 
 
 With the added force and hope anew, 
 
 The two with a great effort drew 
 Him from that pit, to the hard land. 
 Where gasping, strangling, yet breathing, 
 Him of the foul mass relieving, 
 They made way to the running creek, 
 Where when well washed he could speak. 
 His real injuries were slight, 
 Beyond taking vile earth and fright; 
 He thought he'd seen his last of hght. 
 Quite soon he felt himself refreshed, 
 Then turned they to the horse enmeshed.. 
 The small tree was bene down again. 
 When with halter, and bridle rein. 
 The poor thing's head was made secure- 
 
 For breathing; all that could be done^ 
 To make his life for the time sure; 
 
 And then they left him there alone. 
 
 But when he found that they had gone. 
 Were stealing from him fast away, 
 He raised a most imploring neigh. 
 Ellen turned, to him ran back, 
 Patted his head, and kissed his neck. 
 
 She told the man by him to stay, 
 And she'd bring help and take him out. 
 
 She fiew where at work that day 
 Were with her uncle three men stout. 
 
 6 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 — Well, they got him out. 
 Sure that is all I need to tell; 
 Shouldn't have said that, but for Nell. 
 The man was washed and put to bed, 
 The horse was washed and put to shed. 
 (Of this whole thing I'm awfully tired; 
 Will never have another man mired.) 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 V. 
 
 JOHN EXPLAINS. 
 
 John "West'orook was the stranger's name— 
 
 Name in the deed to hunter Stead — 
 From Xew England. That dav he came 
 
 From \\'arren, through the woods he said; 
 Crossed the river, coming that way, 
 Passing the creek at close of day 
 His horse plunged in— both were mired. 
 Miserably he had there expired 
 If to him brave, heroic Xell 
 Had not come. Then he tried to tell 
 His gratitude; and did it well. 
 
 A middle-aged gentleman, 
 As one could see; well made and strong. 
 
 He watched XeU, even,^ act did scan, 
 Even,' motion and look, as long 
 As she remained within his sight. 
 He'd been shocked, strangled — in the night 
 He had a fever, then a chill. 
 
 And a doctor, when came dayhght, 
 And was kept there quiet and still. 
 Early he sent off to Warren 
 A man, who took a letter for him. 
 Next day, toward eve, a youth arrived. 
 
 Nell was out, ^^T^en John heard her come 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 (The thing John VVestbiook had contrived 
 
 That these should reieet within his room) 
 He called her. There t!ie hght was dim, 
 Nell came brightly, tripping in. 
 They felt each other more than saw. 
 
 With a glad cry she sprang to him; 
 He clasped her close, as is the law 
 
 Of love. The clasper was Paul Lynn. 
 She was the first of them to speak, 
 
 And lifted up her shining head. 
 With the glad tears on either cheek. 
 ' O, I knew you would come," she said. 
 His heart so full no utterance made. 
 Save tears and that embrace. His heart 
 
 Was true as beats in man's bosom. 
 Men are true as women. The part 
 
 They play in truest love does 'em 
 As much good as it does them. 
 The true law of love — hearts for hearts, 
 Women and men are counterparts; 
 Yet equal halves of a perfect gem. 
 Nell's aunt and uncle both were by. 
 
 As happy, glad as they could be. 
 Dear, dear soul!" she could only cry, 
 
 Scarcely less blessed than was she. 
 She turned to John, and with her eye, 
 This question asked, " How can this be?" 
 John Westbrook sat up in his bed, 
 As;glad as either. This he said: 
 If there was wrong in their separation. 
 
 The fault, as now the joy, was mine. 
 Sure I've made some reparation 
 
 By falling in that filthv slime." 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 Very properly he paused here, 
 And wiped from either eye a tear. 
 The memory of that beastly mud 
 At that blessed moment would intrude. 
 
 ' He's my dead sister's only child; 
 
 His bachelor guardian was I. 
 He largely owned this region wild, 
 And came to see it. Here he whiled 
 Some months. You know what happened. 
 Answer to his letters, strong and long — • 
 (Paul, it you should have put more rough — 
 
 Of this brave and glorious Nell); 
 Seemed to me, well — hum — merely stuff. 
 (That was, you know, before I fell. 
 Adam's fall — not to be hasty, 
 Tho' great, was not half so nasty). 
 My reply was an order sharp 
 To return, by special bearer sent. 
 
 He daUied, lingered, but did start. 
 Leaving his heart here. Well, I lent 
 
 My full ear to his story wild. 
 And much it moved me toward this child. 
 This was what I imposed on him : 
 
 Five years of absence, of silence five. 
 If at the end there was a glim- 
 Mer of his passion yet alive. 
 
 With him I would go to this West, 
 And if I found the maiden true 
 And good (Nell, I didn't know you. 
 
 You know, then) I would see him blest. 
 I made him stay behind. Alone 
 I came to see. Old stupid fool ! 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 To see and judge this peerless one ! 
 
 So blind, I tumbled in the pool 
 The first thing. She pulled me out, 
 Like that venerable John Snout." 
 Here he paused and feebly laughed, 
 As he thought of the mud he quaffed. 
 Well, on the whole I'm rather glad 
 
 It happened as it did — mud bath 
 And all. The tyrannic uncle bad 
 And badly punished, one thing hath 
 
 To ask. It will perfect Paul's bliss. 
 Let me now see you join your lips. 
 
 In rapture as true lovers kiss." 
 Those lips up there in that said line 
 JVIust stand alone without a rhyme, 
 While each lover the other's sips. 
 
 Then they sipped the aunt's Bohea, 
 
 And sparkling words they idly spoke, 
 Nothing meaning, mere bright bubbles. 
 Filled with their blessed heart's troubles, 
 Which gaily at the surface broke. 
 I declare I've lost self-control 
 Along here; also of my lines. 
 Up there, still standing the good aunt's tea, 
 As any one can easy see, 
 Cooling alone, in its small bowl. 
 Without reason as without rhyme, 
 The thing has happened on a time 
 Before. My rhymes will drift apart. 
 While the lovers draw near each other's heart. 
 (That last line is fully ten feet long, 
 I must manage this, or cease my song). 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE WHIP-POORAVILL'S SONG. 
 
 Again up spoke damp John Westbrook, 
 
 Outspoke very strange words to Paul; 
 As from the window he did look — 
 
 ' ' Lo, outside, soft the moonbeams fall; 
 And softly breathe the airs of June. 
 
 Go out, you are the world to each; 
 And leave me here to sing a tune 
 
 To these kind ones, so they may reach 
 Some knowledge of you." So they went, 
 Not loath to meet John's good intent. 
 Nell wondered at the shy unrest, 
 The timid coyness of ber breast, 
 The tremors sweet, which through her ran; 
 As her heart said " this is a man." 
 Before he had seemed half a child; 
 
 A girl-faced, lovely, hero boy, 
 Brave, tender, of spirit A\-ild, 
 
 Given lo be her love, her joy. 
 But this, avinle man, a thing 
 To which with precious fear to cling. 
 No not fear — she could not define 
 Nor tr}' to; more than half di\-ine. 
 Yet of the earth, unconscious veiled 
 And to remain until revealed. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 So they went forth to June's soft air, 
 
 And were themselves the glory there. 
 
 Whether the stars were suns or moons, 
 
 And if birds sang, were crows or loons. 
 
 O blessed is the hour of earth, 
 
 When the bliss of heaven hath birth. 
 
 Then and forever do men know 
 
 That what lights up the world below 
 
 Comes h-om heaven, and heaven is. „ 
 
 That is the proof and that is bliss. 
 
 The air was trembling with the thrill. 
 
 The weird notes of the whip-poor-will, 
 
 They smote out with cutting crash, 
 
 The stroke of a melodious lash. 
 
 That cut down through summer leaves, 
 
 Where the soul of night plaints, and grieves, 
 
 And gushes all her wild anguish. 
 
 Ever doomed to 'plain and languish. 
 
 The bright eyed thing peeped through the leaves, 
 
 And in the moon the lovers saw; 
 And softer his wild note he breathes, 
 
 As if he too there felt the law, 
 And as his strains went running on. 
 Something came into his song. 
 "Whip-poor-will, who are these 
 Standing there 'neath the trees ? 
 Whip-poor-will, I declare ! 
 Whip-poor-will , they lovers are. 
 Standing close over there. 
 Whip-poor-will, how funny, 
 These humans are to see. 
 Whip-poor-will , it was bad. 
 For the old one to put years 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 Between them, years so sad. 
 
 Whip-poo?-- Pa /(I, full of tears, 
 
 Whip-poor-Zi'ill; I'm glad he fell 
 
 Whip-poor-John , into the well. 
 
 Whip-poor-zvill , good that Nell 
 Came along, so brave to tell. 
 
 Whip-poor-ioiU, how they thrill ! 
 
 Whip-poor-will, how they bill! 
 
 Whip-poor-will billing, cooing, 
 And all sort of that wooing. 
 Quite well they are doing; 
 
 Whip-poor-will, very well. 
 
 Whip-poor Paul, Whip-poor Xell, 
 You are safe, I will not tell, 
 
 Whip-poor-will , to the moon, 
 But to-morrow to the loon 
 When I see hmi at the river. 
 Of the kisses he doth give 'er, 
 
 Whip-poor'-zuill, O how shy. 
 
 Whip-poor-will, by and by 
 You will find your red lips. 
 Ready give as take clips. 
 
 Whip-poor-will , Whip-poor-will, 
 Now^I will fly away 
 To my mate; then our flight 
 Will be back. Till the day 
 I'll sing to her all night. 
 She will see these two dear, 
 And we will watch them near, 
 And in the morning light, 
 Will send the thrush with his gush, 
 All things hush him to hear; 
 He shall come to make cheer. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 Whip-poo r-rui 11, and good night. 
 Whip-poor Paul, whip-poor Nell, 
 Love her Paul, love her well." 
 Uncle John, he sent them out, 
 
 And long before they came in, 
 He wondered what they were about, 
 
 And came to show a little grim. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE OLD HUNTER. 
 
 Our next morning at George Gilbert's 
 
 Was like a dawn in Paradise. 
 
 Lovely flowers, trailing vines, 
 
 Round the large cabin, over it. 
 
 Over the tree stumps; the short grass, 
 
 Sweet and tender, in the sunlight 
 
 Shone hke amber; all the young leaves 
 
 Had the warm tint, which true artists 
 
 Never do stint. There went the lazy 
 
 Drone of bees, already laden 
 
 For the tall trees, where their hives were. 
 
 The air was freighted with perfume , 
 
 June's sparkhng air in full goblets, 
 
 With hfe's elixir bubbhng over. 
 
 Every grass-blade, every leaf-edge, 
 
 With great beads hung, blazed with diamonds 
 
 From every tree-top, from the margins 
 
 Of the forest came swell of song 
 
 In full chorus. Each bird singing 
 
 As if compelled to his utmost, 
 
 Then could scarcely himself hear. 
 
 From the wood margin at first light 
 
 Came hunter Stead. Paul Lynn's warning 
 
 Had reached him, and this morning 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 He was the first of human things 
 That stole on the charm, which lay warm- 
 Lay on the clearmg, walled with trees. 
 The old scout still having in him 
 The wild spirit of the forest. 
 The wild stock was only budded, 
 Not cut and grafted the second year, 
 But when full grown in his old age, 
 Some sweet buds by Paul and Ellen, 
 On his old shoots, where they blossomed, 
 Giving fragrance wild and pungent, 
 Like arbutus under dead leaves, 
 Under white snows in early March. 
 Long in the margin of the wood 
 Stood the man, the old world viewing, 
 To him so new; so newly planted 
 In the wild heart, of the savage 
 'World of Nature old. As he stood 
 Thus viewing, the subtle meaning 
 Of the All Father to him came. 
 With pure rev'rence the old hunter, 
 As in presence, presence stronger. 
 His cap hfted from his gray head. 
 And turned him back to the wild wood. 
 As if of that he was a part. 
 As if his moc'sin did intrude 
 In this new world, to God nearer. 
 Then came to him old and lonely, 
 In this also he had some part. 
 Though not of it, he had in it 
 Things the dearest to his old heart. 
 Heart old and withered, till refreshed 
 By God's dear grace, brought into it, 
 
THY. SHAGREEN. 
 
 By the young hands of these precious. 
 
 So reassured, he went forward, 
 
 Noting all things, each sign scanning. 
 
 Of the great change he saw working, 
 
 From the raw world of God's Nature, 
 
 To the new world of God and man. 
 
 And some dim notion of the plan 
 
 Dawned in his old heart — heart of child. 
 
 Nature he saw was far richer, 
 
 And fair with aid of hum an art. 
 
 These things pond'ring, great things, deep thin 
 
 He went on noting, where tree stumps 
 
 Were decaying, making rich soils; 
 
 There 'mid their roots, still did linger 
 
 The wood's children, sweet wild flowers, 
 
 Growing stronger, richer, better. 
 
 Higher, larger, b};- chance culture 
 
 Thus received. He also noted 
 
 How gen'rous nature with her growths 
 
 Made speedy haste to hide, adorn 
 
 The ruin wrought in the great change. 
 
 This he pond'red, thought it over, 
 
 Felt himself a ruin hidden 
 
 Felt himself beautified, adorned 
 
 By the hands of Paul and Ellen. 
 
 To him Paul Lynn a wonder was, 
 
 So strong, so tall. In all a man, 
 
 With a man's port, marked, fine, high brow, 
 
 So strongly cut, head borne so well, 
 
 Yet free and joyous as the boy. 
 
 And when each by the other stood, 
 
 Paul and Ellen, he saw how each 
 
 The other gave completion, added 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 To what before seemed perfection, 
 
 Ellen borrowing much from Paul 
 
 By contrast and comparison, 
 
 Yet giving more than she received. 
 
 The prerogative of woman. 
 
 John Westbrook a sore puzzle was; 
 
 He the man was who gave him land. 
 
 So nominated in the deed, 
 
 On which he could keep trees growing, 
 
 A small domain of wild wood green, 
 
 Cover for deer, all wild things dear. 
 
 A mystery 'twas, came from the East, 
 
 Whence all myst'ries. It was a man 
 
 After all who did that strange thing. 
 
 And this the man, before whom now 
 
 He was standing. Vaguely he felt 
 
 That something from him, Stead, was due 
 
 To John Westbrook. He stood confused. 
 
 Powerless to form and utter speech, 
 
 Say what should be. Forth, laughing, Paul 
 
 Spoke, making plain that 'twas from him 
 
 Came the woods and streams. Stead asked hi 
 
 Where they should go when he should cease ? 
 
 O to the deer, to the wild things 
 
 Let the forest be dedicated." 
 
 Up spoke Westbrook, naively saying: 
 
 To Nell's children, dedicate it." 
 
 Then shy, bachelor being, blushed, 
 
 Yet not so red as in Nell's cheeks 
 
 The roses flamed. Paul Linn laughed, 
 
 And louder George, while the dear aunt 
 
 Kissed the girl, no wise offended, 
 
 Such lodgement made this in the mind 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 Of the hunter, that no rest came, 
 
 Till writing, assuring was made. 
 
 That was wonder to him, also, 
 
 A rustling page with strange dark lines 
 
 And his proper cross, transferring 
 
 A mile square of forest, and streams. 
 
 Valley, river, all that pertained, 
 
 To Ellen for life; her children 
 
 After, forever. So it ran. 
 
 He pondered, wondered, till 't\\as clear. 
 
 Then had the old man great content. 
 
THE HUNTER OB 
 
 VIII. 
 
 JUNE DAYS. 
 
 What wondrous days were those June days, 
 
 They can come but once on earth. 
 Old Time is young, and himself stays 
 
 To watch over the new birth, 
 Between these hearts, joy sings her lays 
 With a fresh and endu'ing mirth. 
 
 All the wild, sweet things lend to them, 
 And of their treasures, send to them. 
 
 With them it was an endless now, 
 
 Tiding full lipped, enough for them 
 Its treasure. From their glitt'ring prow 
 Its drops fell pearls back to the brim. 
 They wanted nothing from the past, 
 
 From the future they nothing stole. 
 The lucious now was in their clasp, 
 
 Filling the head, the heart, the soul, 
 And so joy was complete and whole. 
 
 They went to all Nell's forest seats. 
 Sanctuaries some, some retreats, 
 Some were walks winding through the glades, 
 Some where the stoired religious shades. 
 Shed down a deep cathedral gloom. 
 Where rose arched, the mighty dome 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 89 
 
 Of grand trees high, and dimness made 
 All day; where snnbearas never plaved 
 At noon; where birds did never sing. 
 But only flashed on hasty wing. 
 She had seats on moss-growTi banks 
 Of sunny knolls, where the taU ranks 
 Of leaved trees a sweet pleasance made, 
 
 \Miere the hermit thrush's song, 
 Came throbs of music, overlaid 
 
 By silence all the live day long. 
 "WTiere the wimpHng creek went brawiing, 
 
 Limpid in its sparkling stretches, 
 And on land and stream came falling 
 
 Recking light and shade in matches 
 Of molten gold, and lovely bro"\\-n ; 
 Stm-spilt from goblets dripping down. 
 Dripping, trickling through the leaves; 
 Fluttering, fanning in the breeze; 
 Lighting with a lambent flame, 
 Shrub, plant, flower, where it came. 
 On pebble white or mossy stone. 
 O'er which vraters ^vith laugh and moan. 
 Ever viith their hquid voices. 
 As their heart is sad — ^rejoices. 
 As sad or gay currents run. 
 Ever and on in shade and sun. 
 Often here did Paul and Ellen 
 Linger; he asking, she telling 
 Hov.- in the years had passed her hfe, 
 
 Yet ever plainly as he saw 
 Hov,- her young spirit, eager, rife 
 
 For companionship did dravr 
 Largess from the forest. The trees 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 Became her friends. 'Twas passing strange 
 How much she made them. By their leaves 
 
 Shel<nevv them— their bark, at great range 
 She knew them. Knew all their names, 
 And loved them. They to her alive 
 And sentient were, seemed to wave 
 Welcome. Tossing their leaves like manes, 
 Beckoning her. The birds she knew. 
 Their seasons, when away they flew, 
 Their notes, and where they built their nests, 
 And much she told Paul in their rests, 
 He asking, when no more she'd say, — 
 When teased would color, turn away, 
 He told her how with him had run 
 All the long years, what he had done. 
 Mostly with Fearne, Coke, and Blackstone, 
 He'd spent his time. All much drier 
 Than trees and birds, the things by her. 
 
 One day down to the bright Chagrin, 
 Down that old forest trail they hied. 
 There Stead with boat awaited them. 
 
 And they went floating down the tide. 
 It was a wondrous perfect day. 
 
 The sun with stream and forest vied, 
 Every bird piped his roundelay. 
 The light did with the water play, 
 As down they took their shining way. 
 
 There where young Nell's life was stranded, 
 And launched upon a brighter stream, 
 This sweet morn the lovers landed; 
 There standing, to them it did seem 
 
THE SH AGREE X. 
 
 A vision of the past, branded 
 By fancy; a strange, precious dream. 
 The old elm's trunk Stead had banded 
 With clematis, and running vine, 
 Wild roses and sweat eglantine. 
 
 And so down where the Indian Spring 
 
 Its waters cool doth ever spill, 
 With plaint, as there a prisoned thing, 
 
 The sadness of its breast doth trill, 
 Not all sad, but at times doth fling 
 
 A half-glad note of older song. 
 The Indian mother 'plaining still. 
 
 The soothed pappose low laughing on. 
 To Paul and Ellen came a thrill 
 As they stood there in silence long, 
 In silence clasped each other's hand 
 Then turned their mutual eves, and — 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 TX. 
 
 ALONE. 
 
 O, dear, my little tale was done 
 Some time ago, yet I linger 
 
 Toying, loth to depart; as one 
 Who would gladly have the ftnger 
 
 Of time turned backward. The singer 
 At least is pleased with his own song 
 And with the bright ones would prolon 
 His idle strains, his useless stay; 
 Ere from his sight they fade away. 
 In upper sky though day is warm, 
 In wooded depths the weird charm 
 Ever wrought when day is leaving, 
 Unseen fingers now are weaving. 
 So from us doth fade at last 
 The present to the storied past 
 
 There came a day in this same place, 
 
 For which some other days were made. 
 I scarcely might have hope of grace. 
 
 Did I leave that day overlaid 
 With silence. Each lovely face 
 
 Would darken, leaving me in shade, 
 If not prolonged my simple lay 
 
 Until the light of that blessed day. 
 
THE SHAGREEN. 
 
 A day of summer's ripest noon, 
 
 And at the noon of summer's day, 
 From North, South, East, and West, there came 
 
 Through the forest, each by such way 
 As he had, in troops or alone; 
 
 Most on horses — from Cuyahoga, 
 The fair young city of Cleveland, 
 There came a bright and lovely band. 
 
 Fair Burton from her famous hill, 
 
 And the more distant Warren sent. 
 And Parkman, through the forest still, 
 Painesville her men and women lent. 
 All trooping to that Indian Spring, 
 Eager to see the wondrous thing, 
 
 The peer of which the bright Shagreen 
 In all her course had never seen. 
 
 Some in boats on the river came. 
 
 Some from the north, some from the south. 
 There was a town the river's name 
 
 Then bore, high standing near her mouth, — 
 All hurried through the sun and shade, 
 
 Gathering in the small area, 
 Where deft and ready hands had made, 
 
 Things in order due, to see a 
 Noble pair stand side by side 
 And lovely Nell become a bride. 
 
 The Indian woman's little field, 
 
 Which the sweet grass did cover. 
 Under the shade its space did yield. 
 
 Fragrant with purfumed clover. 
 
THE HUNTER OF 
 
 And many flowers, balm, and thyme, 
 White clematis and eglantine. 
 
 There was the sweetest fairy dell, 
 
 Carpeted with soft moss and grass, 
 Where cunning hands had woven well, 
 
 The bridal bower; thence did pass 
 The bride arrayed in simple white, 
 
 With her groom to the fair place 
 Assigned in all eyes, and God's rite 
 
 Reverently done, with the full grace 
 Of church, 'neath sky, and in the face 
 Of the dimpling, shining river, 
 That did its benediction give her. 
 
 There was a glorious festive hour. 
 
 Of joyous words, joyous voices, 
 And laughter, the full bright flower, 
 
 When man's heart and soul rejoices. 
 Then the westring sun did lower. 
 
 Through the high trees, and all was done 
 The guests went off as they had come. 
 
 And Paul and Ellen they were gone. 
 
 The gray old hunter stood alone. 
 
 In the stilled valley. The weird tone 
 Of closing day was coming down 
 
 On the bright river. There were none 
 Save shadows with the old man thrown, 
 
 On memories, that long would thriU; 
 And through the valley lone and still, 
 
 Came the note of the whip-poor-will; 
 And plaining in the Indian spring, 
 The Indian mother murmuring. 
 
OUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 
 
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