Class Book u /- \S'^ 1 Gopightls'". \^0^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT Thoughts IN Trose and 'Rhyme "R. H. LAN6F0RD NORTH PLATTE, NEBRASKA East St. Louis Publishing Co. East St. Louis, III. Two Copies liicfivwj |*T^/-" JAN 9 1905 ' ^3S22> ^S ^ XXc Noj j * ' ^ ^ » ' T COPY bT/ J Ij^^ Copyrighted 1904 by R. H. LANGFORD Introduction V^HIS volume is presented to a reading and think- ing public, coupled with the hope that it may be received with as kindly intentions as those which actuated the author in its preparation, and that the good which it accomplishes may be measured, not only by the wholesome effect it may have on those who peruse it, but by the influence for im- provement which, through it, they are prompted to exert over others. The author is not so egotistical as to think he has produced anything remarkable for its depth of thought or wideness of intellectual scope; in fact, no such purpose was entertained, the aim be- ing rather to offer to the public something simple in style, common-place in character, and of an un- objectionable moral tone. To relate simple stories, to enlarge homely thoughts, to exemplify incidents in the lives of those moving in the ordinary walks of life, to re- lieve the monotony, furnish food for serious thought, interspersed with ideas creating fun and laughter, to direct the minds of the poor and lowly away from the hardships and drudgery of life to Introduction, better and nobler ideals and purposes, are the ob- jects of this volume, and if these objects are to any degree accomplished, the author will be to a com- mensurate extent satisfied. To the critics it is only necessary to say, the author has long had in contemplation to collect in one volume the various scraps which this book con- tains, so that he may present a copy to each mem- ber of his family, to each of his numerous rela- tives, and a few to his more intimate friends, so that while the good opinion of the critics, on the merit of the work, would be very gratifying, their adverse criticism would not, in the least, interfere with the prime object of its publication. While this is true, the author will be pleased if those better able to judge than he should find something to commend in his modest efforts. The poem entitled '^ Cuddle Doon'' and the one following, entitled '^The last to Cuddle Doon,'' by Alex. Anderson of Edinburgh, Scotland, are pub- lished to show the connection between these two and ' ' Rab 's Return, ' ' which is intended as a sequel to both the others. The balance of the work, other than the two poems mentioned, belongs exclusively to the author ; and while several of the thoughts are but crudely expressed, and the ideas poorly embel- lished, lacking that polish which could be given to Introduction. them by one of greater versatility and larger ex- perience, yet if the book will only arouse dormant thought and accomplish good, the author will feel abundantly repaid for the hours he has spent in trying — only trying, remember — to court the fickle muse of poetry; but the inconstant jade has ever been illusive, and the various rhymes are given to the public with the statement that it is the regret of the author 's life that ]ie is not capable of enter- ing into the true spirit of poetry and of song. Like the helpless waif, without home or friends, who is thrown out on the tumultuous sea of life, tossed and buffeted by the angry billows, eventu- ally to drift into a quiet and comfortable home, so this book is cast out upon the waters of the great intellectual sea, to be wafted hither and thither, by adverse winds and varying tides, with the hope that it may drift into many a home to cheer and bless those who may find in its pages words and thoughts which shall speak to their hearts and make them happier and better for having formed the acquaintance, through what he has written, of him who, with the most kindly wishes, hopes and prayers, subscribes himself, The Authob. "Be Just ^IUHERE are some people in the world who believe the road to success is through the downfall of others ; and, consequently, they use every effort to build themselves up by attempting to tear others down. This is a grave error of judgment, and will, sooner or later, result in the undoing of him who practices such questionable methods. No matter how close the competition may be, fairness to others is not only required, but is absolutely neces- sary to success. Trying to injure others to gain an advantage may bring a trancient triumph, but the ultimate result will be remorse and shame. The golden rule enjoins upon all to **Do unto others as you would have them do to you, ' ' and if you fail in this regard, you may rest satisfied that ^'Witli what measure ye mete, the same shall be measured to you again.'' Whether you believe it or not, this is as unalterable as the laws of the Medes and Persians. There is only one way to be permanently successful, and that is through being absolutely just and fair in every particular. Think not that you can pursue underhand methods and not be caught. Be sure your sin will find you 10 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, out, and when the denouement comes, you will be the greatest sufferer. Truth will come to light, no matter how deeply hidden. It may be concealed for a period, but time, inexorable time, brings many changes, one of which will be to expose deceitful deeds, and they will rise like a frightful night-mare to confront and confound us. Be just to everyone with whom you deal, and in this way establish a reputation for fairness, which is worth more to you than rubies or gold. No matter what your business is. Or what you find to do, Be careful that you speak the truth, And let your words be few. Let your deeds be deeds of kindness, On others do not frown — You cannot build your business up By tearing others down. If called to speak of other men, Eeply with gentle grace ; Remember that this world is large, And all may find a place. For truthfulness and kindly deeds Resolve to gain renown— You cannot build your business up By tearing others down. Thoughts in Prose and Ehyme, 11 When people do not treat you well, And strive your name to blight, Be not cast down, remember this : ^ ^ Truth always seeks the light. ' ' Eepay their evil deeds with good, Nor meet them with a frown — You cannot build your business up By tearing others down. Do unto others as you would To you have others do ; Forget you not that others claim Some rights as well as you. Let perfect truth and honesty Your every effort crown — You cannot build your business up By tearing others down. From entertaining evil thoughts No good is ever gained ; One unjust word with vile intent A thousand hearts has pained. Put then a bridle on your tongue. Wear silence as a crown — You cannot build your business up By tearing others down. 12 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. Be absolutely just and fair In every act of life ; Beware of mean back-biting tongues, Which breed discord and strife. A smile bestowed on friend or foe Is better than a frown — You cannot build your business up By tearing others down. Thus will you lead a useful life, And at the journey's end Your portion shall be joy and peace, Nor shall you want a friend. The verdict given on your life Shall be a glorious crown — *^He never built his business up By tearing others down.'' Be "Brave AJuHERE are probably few people who have not some secret, known to themselves alone, and which they would not divulge to their dearest friend. It may be some secret sorrow which they hug to their bosom until it becomes a pleasurable pain, the want of which would cause them extreme sorrow. It is but natural to grieve over some great loss, a loved one departed, or something once possessed which is lost beyond recall. Yet there is nothing gained through mourning over the past, or repin- ing at the loss. He is the greatest coward who cannot manfully meet troubles when they come; and he is the most foolish who tries to cross the bridge before he reaches it; or anticipates that it is washed away before he arrives at the bank of the stream. It is useless to be continually depre- cating your fortune; always looking on the dark, rather than on the bright side of life, picturing clouds and storms, rather than fair weather and sunshine. Hope, the anchor of the soul, bids us look forward to the dawning of a brighter day. Casting sorrow and depression behind, hope points out a guiding star which will lead to a brighter 14 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, future. The greatest contempt should be felt for the one who gives up the battle before the field is won, but who afterwards comes to claim a share of the spoils. He is not entitled to any consideration who retreats when the battle is raging, but who afterwards returns to share the fruits of the vic- tory. Be brave in doing and defending the right, but be too cowardly to do wrong. Keep cheering, hoping, fighting, and the fruits of a glorious vic- tory will be yours to enjoy. Be brave in the de- fense of every good principle, be true to yourself, your country and your God, and you shall prosper beyond your expectations. ^^ Weeping may con- tinue for the night, but joy cometh in the morn- ing.'' In our own hearts we treasure The secrets of a life; Upheaped may be the measure, With pain and trouble rife. Each heart hath its own sorrow, Each soul its secret pain; Why should we troubles borrow, Or live them o'er again? We gain naught by repining ; Are we not architects. Degrading or refining As each by will elects ? Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 15 Then say good-bye to sadness, Nay, do not frown, but smile; Eemember, it is madness Your fortune to revile. Our troubles are but fleeting. Short-lived our keenest pain; Our hearts with sorrow bleeding, Will heal, and bleed again. Sweet hope our lives adorning. Farewell to sighs and tears; The coming of the morning Will drive away our fears. How vain with constant weeping. The moments to beguile ; Though grief and sorrow reaping. Bestow a hopeful smile. Much of our so-called trouble. Much of our pain and care, Is as the floating bubble Which bursts upon the air. Say good-bye to yesterday, Begin life o 'er again ; Banish past mistakes away, Eegrets are all in vain. 16 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. A brighter day is dawning, To cheer the coming hours ; Dame fortune now is fawning, To strew your path with flowers. Fight manfully the battle That is in store for you; In life 's turmoil and rattle. Be earnest, brave and true. So when your days are ended, And all life 's work is done, A voice, in music blended, Will sing the victory's won. Tommy Jones ViUHE men of all nations who have risen to the greatest prominence, who have taken high rank in their country's affairs, some of whom have reached the highest rank in the gift of any people — that of President of the United States — have come from the humbler walks of life. They have made their way against adverse circumstances, have sur- mounted trials, overcome difficulties, and reached prominent positions, not so much on account of their superior intellect, as a sturdy determination, backed up by industry, energy and perseverance. Fixing their eye on the guiding star of their hope, they never lost sight of its twinkling light until it had led them to the goal of their ambition. The chances to-day are numerous for advance- ment, to the boy who bends all his energies to the accomplishment of a certain object; but he who neglects to take advantage of the splendid oppor- tunities afforded to acquire a good education, and by prudence, sobriety, forethought and determined effort, use what he has acquired for his own ad- vancement and profit, will be pushed aside in the race, left far in the rear, and eventually become a mere nonentity without either place or name in the world's affairs. 18 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. A peculiar lad was Tommy Jones, Who lived on a farm in the east ; It was said he hated manual work, But his books were a constant feast. He loved to study of plants and grain. And the soil which suited them best: He was fond of trying experiments, Or making a chemical test. His life on the farm was dull to him. So he begged to be sent to school ; But his father frowned and crossly said : ^'He would be the family fool.'' But Tommy Jones kept plodding along. Though the path was hard which he trod; He continued to study of grains and plants. And the elements of the sod. When the farmers met with Tommy Jones, They would ask with a covert sneer. Where it were better to sow their wheat And oats for the following year? But their jokes on Tommy were always lost, For he answered with words discreet. That certain soils were adapted to corn And others were suited to wheat. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 19 He also discussed in a learned way, Wliicli they failed to understand, Magnesia and Stronium Carbonate, And of Alkali in the land ; But when he tried to explain to them About soda or caustic base, They always said it was foolishness, As a smile crept over each face. But nothing discouraged Tommy Jones, He laughed, if they laughed at him ; He searched for knowledge on every side With commendable pluck and vim. He nobly fought the battle of life, He studied both early and late; He never gave up what he sought to gain. Though opposed by an adverse fate. But what surprised those farmers most. As they plodded along their way. Was a letter sent out to ^^ Professor Jones,'' Which had come to the town that day. Offering him a professor's chair In an agricultural school. And declaring the one they needed most Was Jones, the family fool. 20 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. Carefully treasure the lesson conveyed In this story related to you, Bearing in mind through the journey of life, This adage will ever prove true : ' ' Knowledge is power when rightly applied, It cannot be bartered or sold; When thrown in the scale it ever out-weighs Much coveted riches and gold/' ••••••• •• •• Summer T)ays of Long ^qo ITCH lias been written about not looking back- ward, and considerable advice has been given about the folly of retrospect; but most of it has probably been by those who are not old enough to appreciate the fact that when a certain age has been reached, there is no facination in looking in any other direction. It may be those who object to backward glances, had but meagre pleasures in their youth and, consequently, cannot under- stand why old persons are constantly harking back to the days of their childhood. There are many reasons why an aged person should recall the way he spent his younger days, but not many why he should try to peer into the future. He will arrive at the end of the journey, possibly, all too soon, without trying to pierce the veil which hides futurity from human eyes. At all events, old people derive considerable happiness through living over again the days of the past ; recounting to the rising generation the peculiar pleasures which they enjoyed, when but few years had passed over their heads, when care had not, as yet, brought wrinkles to their brow, nor streaked 22 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. their hair with gray. When the energy of the spring time of life is passed, when the summer season with its crimson and gold has gone; when the autumn with its variegated hues of red and purple, and yellow and brown has given way to winter, when we are passing down the western slope, drawing nearer, ever nearer eternity's plain, why should we not be permitted, in imagi- nation, to gather the flowers, to wander in the greenwood, to loiter on the banks of the purling streams, to roam over the grassy meadow land, and live again among the scenes of other days 1 Oh summer days ! Sweet summer days ! Such as I spent in childhood's hours, Wandering o'er the meadows green. Or resting 'neath the shady bowers; Come back again to me once more. With all your joyous, fervent glow, Keturn again, oh summer days ! Sweet Summer days of long ago. Oh summer days! Sweet summer days! The birds that dwelt the trees among. Were richer plumaged, and their voice Was then atuned to sweeter song. The honey gathered by the bees. Gleaned as they flitted to and fro. Was sweeter in those summer days, Sweet summer days of long ago. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 23 Oh sunnner days! Sweet summer days! The flowers that bloomed upon the hill, Were richer laden with perfume, The stream flowed clearer past the mill; The cows which grazed along its banks. At eve returned, sedate and slow. In those beauteous summer days, Sweet smnmer days of long ago. Oh summer days! Sweet summer days! The apples ripening on the trees Were larger and of sweeter taste. Their cheeks were fanned by softer breeze ; The wind which swept o 'er wood and plain. To us did more majestic grow. In those delightful summer days, Sweet summer days of long ago. Oh summer days! Sweet summer days! To pluck the berries growing wild, To chase the squirrel through the wood, To romp again as when a child, I'd sacrifice uncounted wealth, Eefuse all riches here below. To live once more those summer days. Sweet summer days of long ago. 24 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, Oh summer days ! Sweet summer days ! Might I once more become a boy; I'd seek eternal springs of youth, Your long past pleasures to enjoy; Oh ne'er forgotten childhood days, Give me your joys again to know, Eeturn, oh happy summer days, Sweet summer days of long ago. Oh summer days! Sweet summer days! I never more can call you mine; Though you are gone ne'er to return, I may not murmur nor repine. For memory will oft recall. In gentle accents, soft and low. The pleasures of those summer days. Sweet summer days of long ago. Oh summer days ! Sweet summer days ! But all my longing is in vain; Those golden hours I loved so well, To me can not return again. No more in youthful joys to share. These pleasant scenes, no more to know- Good-bye, good-bye, dear summer days. Sweet summer days of long ago. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 25 Oh summer days ! Sweet smnmer days ! Eternal summer wends its way, The present, future and the past, Will merge in everlasting day. When those heavenly days draw near, Yf e will a loving thought bestow On those glorious summer days. Sweet summer days of long ago. That Old Apple Tree Y earliest recollection of out door life was when, as a toddling child of three or fonr sum- mers, my sister Mary took me out to the meadow field, and spreading a large quilt underneath the clustering boughs of an apple tree, played with me there, and attracted my childish fancy with delightful fairy tales. My mother was ill, I had just recovered from an attack of what the doctors called scarlatina, and being somewhat fretful, my sister took me away from the house and enter- tained me during those bright, summer days so that I would not annoy my mother with my petu- lancy. For this reason I became attached to that untrimmed, old apple tree which always bloomed in rich profusion, but which never matured its promised fruition, for nearly all its abundant bloom fell to the ground, carpeting the earth with a layer of blossoms. Beneath its spreading branches I spent many a pleasant hour. Under its cooling shade I delighted to linger ; and it was there, where I could hear the whistle of the ^*Bob White" in the adjoining field, watch the robin red-breast on the fence near by, and observe the Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 27 saucy red-headed wood-pecker alight in its branches, that I dreamed my first day-dreams of youth. It became a favorite haunt of mine, and when anything was amiss with me, I would steal away to rest beneath its shadowy limbs, or hide in its abundant foliage. Stretched on my back, luxuriating in the perfume of a thousand apple blossoms, with the droning hum of hundreds of bees striking pleasantly on my ear, I yielded to the drowsiness which crept over me and slept and dreamed. All, those were pleasant days! The old apple tree is gone and, as an elderly man, thousands of miles away from the scenes of my youtlv I am trying to draw a lesson from what I remember of those happy times. An old neglected apple tree. Stood in the meadow field; Its fruit was not the choicest. And scanty was the yield; But it always bloomed in spring time, With blossoms sweet and rare. And lent increasing fragrance to The flower-scented air. 28 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. It flourished in the open field, Untrimmed, and all alone; And forever through its branches, The sobbing wind would moan. And strew its fragrant blossoms In rich profusion 'round, While partly ripened apples fell, Unheeded to the ground. But a few lived on and ripened, With future prospects bright; Their rosy cheeks blushed modestly, Kissed by the morning light. The ripened apples on that tree, This adage, old, repeat: **A11 things which glitter are not gold," For they were bitter-sweet. And so it is with mortals here. They live, and bud, and bloom ; But dangers stand on every hand. To push them to the tomb. Young lives in grace and beauty born. Are withered by a breath; The chill winds of adversity Will leave them cold in death. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 29 Yet a few live on and prosper, While others droop and die; And when old age comes on apace, They voice this mournful cry: ^^Why were we sent into the world. Misfortunes sad to meet, And learn too late that worldly joys. Are often bitter-sweet/* Teach us the remnant of our days, To count the hours which fly; And be prepared to meet the Judge, When we are called to die. We know not what the morrow brings. How short our days and fleet — Help us through life to calmly take The bitter with the sweet. wlfm^ M Boyish Fancy \PVERY boy lias had his own peculiar flights of imagination, and pictured to himself certain con- ditions as he supposed them to exist. Every boy, too, has had his periods of disappointment and depression, when he felt as though all the world had combined to oppose his wishes, and as though all his friends had forsaken him. Deep is his grief, and heart-breaking his sorrow, when he en- counters these difficulties for the first time. Steal- ing away to brood over what he supposes is the greatest pain that will ever reach him during life, he has all kinds of childish flights of fancy; pic- tures himself to himself as a much abused and sadly neglected child, and wonders if some kind fairy will not appear and spirit him away to fairy land, in which enchanted country he will be re- lieved of all his childish troubles. Unfortunately, fairies do not come when we long for them the most, but only in our dreams, or in beautifully constructed stories to please youthful minds. There are boys of very vivid imagination and sensitive disposition who stand ninety chances out of the hundred to be ruined, simply because Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 31 their parents do not understand their peculiar origination, and entertain the erroneous idea that all children can be fashioned in a two-by-four-by- six mould. This theory is positively untenable, and when rigidly applied is extremely dangerous to the child. When I was a boy of some quite tender years, AYith a heart that was tenderer still, I drifted along with my hopes and my fears, Into problems surpassing my skill. While exiled one day on the roof of a shed. For some trifling misconduct of mine, A thunder-storm gathering its force overhead. Gave a view of a vision divine. A cloud 'er my heart like the one up above, Which shadowed the light of the sun. Was shedding its gloom o'er my filial love. For to me a slight wrong had been done. All earth seemed against me — I felt I must cry- But I scarcely had shed a lone tear, When stealing a glance at the ominous sky, All my grief was dissolved into fear. 32 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 1 thought the Almighty, whose wrath preachers tell, Is a thing that we ought to avoid, Was kindling the furnaces down there in hell, For that I had his angels annoyed; Just then came a rift in the cloud, and a beam Of the still hidden sun sought the earth ; It fell on the spot, as I thought, with a gleam. Where my tears and my sorrows had birth. In my childish fancy I felt that if I Were as good as a child ought to be, I might be permitted to climb to the sky. On that beam that seemed cast out for me ; No ties bound to earth, I was willing to go, And for a release thought to pray. But I scarcely had uttered a half word or so. When a cloud snatched that bright beam away. Though the years have brought many pangs of regret. Which are marked with a life-laden sigh, The pain of that moment doth cling to me yet, With its thought— and it shall till I die. The sunshine of life, like the brightness of day, Is frequently dimmed by a cloud; No bright beam of hope comes to drive it away So it shadows our life like a shroud. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 33 But I have a fixed hope in a merciful God, Who doeth all things for the best, That after applying the chastening rod. He will take me to dwell with the blest. Whenever He calls me to come up above. From the darkness of clouds and of night, I shall hasten to bask in the beams of His love, And dwell with the angels of light. T)riftm 21/ NE Sunday morning, several years ago, ac- companied by a very estimable lady, the author stood on the bridge which spans the stream flow- ing through the town of Carlyle, Illinois; and as we gazed into the limpid water, the lady remarked that the driftwood floating down the stream re- minded her that we were all drifting on the great sea of life — drifting and drifting away. The statement was both truthful and forcible, and furnishes food for much thought. Always drift- ing, we are carried forward by wind and tide, sometimes we know not where. "We meet and drift apart to meet no more. Carried onward by the ever flowing stream of time, we soon drop out of sight in the great ocean of eternity. In a brief period we are forgotten by the many who greeted us with a pleasant smile and called us ' ^friend. '^ As we watched the floatwood striking objects here and there, which impeded its pro- gress, we were reminded of the difficulties and trials of life ; and when the driftwood passed out of sight around the bend of the stream, we breathed an unconscious sigh and walked silently away. We, too, were drifting and would soon disappear in the turbid waters of forgetfulness. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 35 Drifting, drifting and drifting away, Out on the ocean of life, Mid rolling waves, and the dashing spray, With danger and trouble rife ; Filled with fear at the mad sea's roar. Frightful and striving to pray, A life goes out and is known no more — Drifting and drifting away. Drifting, drifting and drifting along. Mid scenes of pleasure and pain ; Oft a sad wail, sometimes a glad song. Our life is a varied refrain; Mourning in sadness, singing in joy. Oft blending the right with the wrong. The gold of life is mixed with alloy — Drifting and drifting along. Drifting, drifting and drifting alone. Disheartened and in distress; Oh how often our fate we bemoan — No hand to soothe nor caress. In trough or on crest floatwood will ride. So we poor mortals are prone To rise on the wave or sink in the tide, Drifting and drifting alone. 36 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, Drifting, drifting and drifting away, Shut out from the world's gay throng. Our life is as a span or a day, And the time shall come ere long When we shall drift away from the shore, Nor anchor nor cables can stay. Life's burdens and joys entrammel no more- Drifting and drifting away. Drifting, drifting and drifting along, A light breaks bright on the view, 'Tis the beacon of gladness and song. Which shines for me and for you. Hope comes to the heart which is broken, We brood no more o'er the wrong; Eejoicing, we see the bright token — Drifting and drifting along. Drifting, drifting and drifting away, Watch the bright sunlight of love, Growing brighter from day unto day, A gift sent down from above ; How it gladdens each pain-stricken heart, Which strives its voice to obey; From its joys may we never depart, Drifting and drifting away. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 37 Drifting, drifting and drifting away, Watching the soul-cheering light; In our hearts there is joy for each ray Dispels the darkness of night. The signal shines bright on the portal, As ends our life 's closing day ; Oh look to that light, dying mortal — Drift not, oh, drift not away. Lost Moments j|<0 one can aiTord to be prodigal of time, no matter how advantageous his circumstances. If it is true, and there are the gravest reasons for believing that it is, that we will be compelled to give an account for every idle word spoken, and for every precious moment wasted, then no one can afford to crowd the entries on the debit side of the ledger for fear that he will have difficulty in making up his balance sheet. The time allotted to man as a sojourner on earth is extremely brief, and very uncertain ; and, if he should live out the measure of his days, the three score years and ten, which is his portion, even then he has no surplus time ; but he must dilligently employ each fleeting hour in order to accomplish the life work which he is expected to complete to the very cap- stone. There is something exceedingly painful and sad in the thought that most lives are incom- plete — not rounded out to the full stature of man- hood; and the unfinished condition of the struc- ture must, in a measure, be attributed to the care- less waste of time which, unfortunately, is one of humanity's greatest faults. If the moments which Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 39 are spent in idleness and frivolity, could be pre- served and sold to the highest bidder, when needed most, millions would be paid for one short hour to enable some one with impoverished soul to stay the running of the sands in the hour glass of life. Nor is this applicable to the rich alone, but to all who neglect to prepare in time for the vast interests of eternity. Life is but a fragile shell flung up by the waves of eternity's sea, to dwell on the sand banks of time but a short space, and then, like the wave which wastes its strength on the rock-bound shore, it rolls back into eternity and is remembered no more. ^^Procrastination is the thief of time.'' Lost, lost a precious string* of pearls, of countless, endless worth, Owned by the human family since fleeting time had birth; Strewn far and wide on every hand, spurned, wasted, stolen, strayed; Eejected by the rich and poor, unheeded and mis- laid. These precious pearls have wasted been by man in every land; Viewed as possessing little worth, destroyed with careless hand; 40 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. Yet to possess them once again men offer count- less gold; In value they would trade for them an hundred thousand fold. Not all the pearls found in the sea, nor diamonds in each crown, In worth can be compared to them, nor weigh these treasures down; Pure opals, rubies, amethysts, stones valued, rich and rare, Nor priceless jeweled diadems can with these pearls compare. No computation known to man, no modern plan- ned device. Can place an estimate on them, or figure out their price ; Monarchs would give their empires up, and kings their kingly sway. To hold again the precious gems, they, careless, cast away. The rich man at the point of death, with hour glass at his hand, Would give his wealth, if it would stay the run- ning of the sand. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 41 The poor and lowly cottager, though wracked with grief and pain, Would sacrifice his dearest hopes to win them back again. The high, the low, the rich, the poor, when comes life's closing day. Look on the future with alarm, and beg, and plead, and pray. That dissolution may be stayed, but for one little hour, And that the stalking monster — death — be shorn of all his power. The saddest action of our life is when we count the cost. Of all the moments thrown away, of all the min- utes lost; Oh, we would give our all of earth, all fame and riches spurn, If at the last we then could have the wasted hours return. Oh, Father Time! be kind to us, return the mo- ments gone. Give back what we have spurned, before eternity shall dawn. We beg, yea, on our knees implore, and yet we ask in vain — The moments which are thrown away, will not return again. My Sainted Mother JkO one can take a mother's place. No one can understand a mother's love. Motherhood has come and it fills the soul of the young wife with a sanctified joy. Other loves may wax and wane, but mother's love never grows weary, it never fails, never ends, but continues to run through eternities of time. The love for the young hus- band, be it ever so tender, must make place in favor of this newly awakened happiness. He who in the days of courtship was all in all, he who was looked upon as a king by the blushing young bride, learns that he has a formidable rival in the lovely babe which nestles in the fond mother 's arms. The babe absorbs her thought and is her constant care. In her eyes there is a world of love, and in her soul an ecstacy of joy. Month after month she watches the development of the child. His tod- dling steps are to her a new found happiness ; his prattling words are sweet music to her ears. He grows to boyhood beneath her tender care. She closely guards his youthful days. With motherly solicitude she watches him grow to stately man- Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 43 hood. With joy she beholds a young wife seated on the throne of her son's heart, where she has formerly reigned supreme, but this does not weaken her solicitude nor change the current of her affection. Mother is the angel of the house- hold, hovering everywhere, always trying to en- hance the happiness of her children. A wife's devotion pales before the intensity of a mother's love. Boys love your mothers; treat them with the greatest kindness and affection, ever bearing the fact in mind that no matter how tenderly, how jovingly you may treat them, you can never repay them for all the care, anxiety and tenderness they have bestowed on you. Mother's hair is streaked with gray, and the wrinkles mark her care-worn face; then cherish her as you would no other for she is your best, your truest friend. ^'Be good to dear, old mother for there's none can take her place. ' ' While yet a babe of tender years. With childish wants and trouble. When I was filled with griefs and fears, Which vanished as a bubble; Who clasped me in her gentle arms, And did with kisses smother? Yv^ho quieted my false alarms! My dear, old sainted mother. 44 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. Time moved apace, at length I grew To play with ring and rattle; Those happy days which then I knew, Days filled with childish prattle! AVho was it soothed with fond caress, My grief, my pain and bother, And with her smiles wonld cheer and blesS 1 My kind, old sainted mother. And when I lumbered off to school. With sums my brain to addle; To break the dear, old teacher's rule, Or in the brook to paddle, AVho was it guarded over me I Indeed it was no other. Who caused my boyish grief to flee. But my old, sainted mother. In after years on business bent; Or seeking giddy pleasure, Who was it all her moments spent, Nor had a minute's leisure, To save me from each foolish plan, Some heedless deed or other. Or stay the downward course I ran! My loving, sainted mother. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. ' 45 Whose gentle ways cling to me still, Of all my life the leaven, And monld my arbitrary will. Though she has gone to heaven? ^Tis hers, sweet friend of other days. It could not be another. Who fills my life with hopeful rays, Mv blessed, sainted mother. Now, that old age comes on apace, I turn to other places ; I see again her smiling face. Her loveliness and graces. I pine for mother's kindly ways, I want, or love no other; Again I long to live those days With my old, sainted mother. Oh, mother! dear, old friend of mine. It binds as with a tether, To think of that pure life of thine — The days we spent together. So when my life is all complete, And I am free from bother, In heaven I expect to meet My pure, angelic mother. Wearing a Mask ^ LAEGEbook could be written on the subject of wearing masks, not the material ones which are worn at masked balls and entertainments of like character, but those which are worn by various persons, as they pass along life's great thorough- fare, who attempt to mask their faces so they shall not appear to be the index of the mind. It is astonishing how successfully many carry out their determination not to allow any one to read from the face, the emotions which are lurking in the heart. Masks are worn by persons moving in all the different avenues of life, sometimes for good, sometimes for evil purposes; but worn they are, and will be so long as man is actuated by the same passions and desires as now control his move- ments. What a world of deception and sorrow, misery and poverty, evil passions and vile desires, are hidden beneath the masks worn by those mov- ing in the various walks of life. If some of our supposed friends were to remove their masks, what horrid pictures of malice, envy, hatred and sin would we behold. What a severing of friend- Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 47 ]y ties would occur. What clianges would it make in the relative positions occupied by divers per- sons. (These thoughts were suggested by the finding of an old, black mask which some one had worn at a masked ball, and afterwards thrown aside as of no more value or benefit). Behind a mask each living soul Is lurking in disguise, Preparing for itself a goal, Deciding ill or wise. Masks have ever been the shield To cloak each vile intent. Since sin and wickedness had birth, And sordid sentiment. If every mask from face were torn, And from each sinful heart; If truth should every brow adorn, What joy would it impart! Grave secrets now in caskets closed, Its searching light would feel; The kings of earth would be deposed. And to the lowly kneel. 48 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. The poor would take a higher place, The rich and proud would fall; And those who dwell in wretched want, Yv^ould live in gilded hall. He who has grasped another's wealth, Would restitution make; While others steeped in guilt and wrong, Would sin and shame forsake. Usurpers then would yield their place, And nature's kings would reign; Each truthful man, with noble grace, His rightful place regain. This world would be a heaven below, All fraud be trodden down; And *' Truth" would be the grand device To decorate each crown. In Memoriam '2uHE silent city with its narrow doorways, lonely rooms and dreary chambers is constantly increas- ing its population, yet Death, the all-powerful monarch of the grave's dominion, is never satis- fied, and never cries out ^^It is enough/' Tem- poral kings who have absolute sway over millions of people, must finally become subjects of this despotic ruler, who is no respector of persons, but, as suits his arbitrary will, calls on the high, the low, the rich and the poor, and the tribute they must pay is life itself. No one can effect a com- promise, no one can evade the stern demand. The penalty is fixed, and the sentence will not be com- muted. About this question there is no dispute. The difference comes, not as to the inevitable end- ing of a life on earth, but as to the disposition of the soul, after death has closed our temporal ex- istence. No attempt will be made to argue this disputed point — that is left to the theologians and to those who differ from them in opinion. This simple statement is made, which can be accepted or rejected, as suits the reader's peculiar idea. 50 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. The believer in a future state and in future re- wards and punishments has the advantage. If the existence of such a state is a myth, as some profess to believe, the life which the Christian lives, makes of him a good citizen — a man to be respected and honored; while, if his future hap- piness depends on his actions here, and he has lived up to the requirements, he has rendered himself doubly safe — safe to inbure the respect of his fellowmen, and safe to reap the reward of his Christian life. This short statement, made to reasonable, thinking men along any other line, would influence them to stand on the safe side, but when it comes to matters of eternity, we are surely a perverse and stiff-necked generation. Gone to the grave is our loved one. Gone in his manhood's might; Said farewell to the scenes of earth. To dwell in realms of light. Passed out, as a ship in the night. Sailed from the earth away, His spirit has taken its flight. To dwell in endless day. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 51 Our hearts are filled with tenderness, For him we sadly mourn; We wish to hear his cheery voice, We long for his return. How short and weak is human life — Uncertain are the years Allotted dying mortals here, And filled with pain and fears. We have no sure abiding place, This earth is not our home ; Though we outlive our three-score years, The end of life must come. We are but travelers here below. Soon death with visage pale, Will clutch our frail mortality. Our temporal life assail. But death can not retard the flight Of the immortal soul; That part must wing its unknown way To reach its destined goal; No church, nor priest, nor harping creed Controls the spirit mind; For he is nearest Christ whose life Is truthful, pure and kind. 52 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, So while we mourn departed friends, While tears of sorrow fall, We have a never failing hope. When comes the Judge's call, That he who lived an upright life, Will hear the Savior's plea: ^^In living right and doing right. This man resembles me.'' And so, though we are filled with grief. And harbor doubts and fears. The One who doeth all things well. Shall wipe away our tears. With kindly smile, and tender love. The Master looketh down; And saith to him: ^^This is thy seat, And this thy kingly crown." 4- Mother's Love" Mother's Love fll/F all the passions and desires found in the human heart, there is nothing to compare with that love known only to her whom we are delighted to call mother. Mother's love is something which cannot be understood, her affection cannot be fathomed. For the sake of her child she will bear every known hardship, suffer untold pain, the agonies of which are as joys to her, if through bearing them, she can save her child. Reviewing the history of the past, it is equally as gratifying as it is surprising, to note how much the mothers have contributed to the civilization and advance- ment of the great nations of the world. Select a great man, one who in any period of the world's history, is noted as a leader in his time, either as soldier, philosopher, painter, sculptor, preacher, writer, ruler, traveler, inventor, discoverer, his- torian or poet, and in most instances, a good, sen- sible, loyal woman, either mother, wife, sister, daughter or friend, will be found standing by his side, and to whom, not infrequently, he owes his greatest achievements. Her friendship, devotion 54 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. and love have been his chief support in his hours of discouragement, despondency, doubt and fear; and in the hour of his success, although she has contributed much to his final triumph, she bestows all the praise on him, and remains by his side to ascribe to him the glory. We agree with those who claim that woman 's sphere is in the home, but her home is the world. The world today is feeling her influence as it was never felt before, and is the better for that influence. Mother's sphere is in the home, to train by precept and by example, the girls to become good, pure women, and the boys to become brave, loyal men; and then follow them with her prayers and tears so that they may not forsake her teachings nor disgrace her womanhood. The poet may sing of the op'ning spring, Of the beautiful days of May; Of the buds and blossoms they will bring. When the snows are melted away. Soldiers have taught of the battles fought. Of the blood that was freely shed ; Of the sorrows brought and havoc wrought Of the fields that were strewn with dead. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 55 Travelers may tell of all that befell, As they wandered the world around, Of the poor who in poverty dwell. Or of seeing a ruler crowned. The love-sick swain may sing a refram, Of a loved one, night and morn. Chanting his love again and again. As a passion of heaven born. The lover of God may kiss the rod, And tell of its chastening power. That holy love which is shed abroad In his bosom from hour to hour. I speak of a love which comes from above, By the heavenly Father blest; I sing of a mother's endless love. The purest and sweetest and best. Over the Sea QpVERY fireside has its vacant cliair. The place once occupied by a loved one is now empty, and we are left to mourn the loss. The once merry laughter is heard no more, the cheery voice is stilled in death, and we are left alone to weep. Gone to that land which lies far beyond the sea of life, some of our friends have landed on eterni- ty's shore, and are sharing the joys of those who dwell in the eternal city. It is a happy thought to believe that our departed friends have gone to that land where tears are never shed, and where sorrow and pain are known no more. However skeptical some may be about the future rewards and punishments meted out to those who have reached the age of maturity, and lived many years in this sorrowful world, before taking their jour- ney with the lone boatman across the river of death, we are doubly confident that the tender flovv-ers placed in our care by the great Gardener, and in His wisdom taken away again before they had time to bud and bloom, will be transplanted in the heavenly garden, where they will grow and mature and bring forth rich fruition. When we remember the words of the Savior, *^ Suffer little Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 57 cMldreiij and forbid them not to come unto Me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven,'* we have no lingering doubt regarding the future happiness of the little lambs whom a loving Savior has taken to the upper fold. The little boy about whom this poem was written fell asleep in his father's arms, trying to repeat what his papa was telling him about a land far over the sea, and he awoke in the arms of Him who, while on earth, loved lit- tle children, and loveth them still, extending that love to all those who become as pure as they. My little boy played at horse one day, As he laughed and shouted for glee; And he fixed the chairs and played away, As he prattled and talked to me; , And he said, ^'Papa, you may take a chair, For the trip to all is free; It takes not long, we will soon be there, To a land far over the sea." So I mounted a chair and rocked and sang, Till he shouted aloud for joy; His childish heart never felt a pang. It was pleasure without alloy. I told him of folk of olden time, Of high and of lowly degree; I sang him a song in childish rhyme, Of a land far over the sea. 58 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, So we rode along with shout and cry, All over the carpeted floor; And a joyous light refilled my eye — I had ridden that way before. When a romping boy 'twas childish bliss, A pleasure of pleasures to be, Wliere I could ride on a chair like this, To a land far over the sea. My little boy shouted, laughed and whipped, The horses galloped and pranced ; As over the parlor floor they skipped. Our hearts with merriment danced. So onward and onward still we rode, Happy, light-hearted and free. Traveling on to a pleasant abode. To a land far over the sea. But now I weep and sorrow and sigh. My dear one forever has gone ; My heart gives out a desolate cry, I travel life's journey alone. Death has stolen the flower away, The Gardener presented to me ; It journeyed far one sorrowful day. To a laud far over the sea. Thoughts in Prose and Rh^me, 59 Weep not, oh heart, be cheerful, not sad- On earth I know him no more ; But the thought ever maketh me glad, My boy has gone on before. Now he is waiting, waiting up there, And calling and calling to me : ^^Papa, dear papa, lovely and fair. Is this land far over the sea I ' ' The Seasons of Life /^ S the year is divided into four seasons, so it is customary to speak of the four divisions of life, childhood, youth, manhood and old age. Child- hood is compared to the spring time. When dame nature first begins to feel the genial rays of the sun, when the roots in the earth begin to awaken into life, when the grass begins to peep from its winter bed and take on a shade of green, when the leaves of the flowers begin to open and the embryo buds begin to show their earliest form; when the migratory birds return and enliven the early morning with their cheerful songs ; when the lamb- kins skip and play in the meadow field, and every- thing has the appearance of life and health and joy — such is the spring time of life with its inno- cent pleasures, its gaiety and its song. Following rapidly after the short-lived days of spring, are the summer days of youth, when the birds are nesting in the trees, when the flowers are in bloom, when the grain is growing in the fields, when the apples are forming on the trees and each day turning their rosy cheeks to the summer sun as they approach maturity— so are the days of youth with their hopes, their ambitions, their amuse- Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 61 ments and their joys. Next come the autumnal clays with their loads of luscious fruit, their fields of golden grain; when all nature seems to have matured, when the store-houses are bursting with plenty, when abundance and wealth are scattered on every hand. The leaves as they fall are tinged with brown, the flowers are beginning to lose the freshness of their bloom, an indication to man that he, too, will begin to droop and fail when come the autumnal days of life. Soon the winter of life with its frosts and its snows, its dreariness, its regrets and its sorrows, will come, reminding us that there can be no life without death, no perfect state without the springing, blooming^ ripening period, and no future life without the transition period from mortality to immortalit}^. I sat in my study one bright summer day. And watched little children go skipping along; How heedlessly moments with them fled away. How merry their hearts, and how joyous their song ! I viewed them pass by with thoughts painful and sad. For I felt that too soon their childhood would cease ; A few fleeting moments their lives would be glad, And then from earth's cares they would sigh for release. 62 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, I scarce turned my eyes from that summer day scene, When I looked once again, but was sorely dis- mayed, For I saw them no more, yet where they had been, Young men and young women their graces dis- played. Childhood's sweet pleasures were hidden from view, Then each with high hopes planted deep in his heart. Paused to bid friends but a kindly adieu. Nor seemed he to sorrow when forced to depart. I saw them again as they passed by the door, The remnant now left of that once happy throng; No gay childish laughter I heard as of yore — In life's dizzy whirl they were hurried along. Many greedy to earn the world's sordid wealth, Had battled and struggled until they were gray ; While others, discouraged and broken in health. Had sunk in the tide and been carried away. I paused once again to behold the loved place. Where children had sported a few days before ; But a few aged people with old-fashioned grace, Passed slowly along and I saw them no more. Of all those bright children so happy and gay. That skipped past my study in innocent glee. But a few hoary heads now dotted the way. The others were wrecked on life 's turbulent sea. VJU HAT hope is the anchor of the soul, will be ad- mitted by every one who, when his heart is pierced with disappointment and sorrow, has felt its cheery rays enter his soul, banish the shadows from his bosom, and supply him with renewed strength to fight his adversaries or surmount the difficulties that lie in his pathway. The ship- wrecked mariner, tossed and dashed by the angry billows, gives up in despair, resigns himself to his fate, and is ready to sink in a watery grave, while the waves sing a mournful requiem over his dis- appearing form. All at once his watchful eyes observe a passing sail which, like an angel of mercy clad in snow-white robes, draws nearer and nearer — every sense is instantly on the alert, his heart is filled with hope, and as he feels it thrill his frame, quickening every fibre into action, he determines to make one last mighty effort. He moves forward in the angry waters, now rising on foam-crowned crest, now sinking in the trough of the sea, between the raging billows. Hope urges him onward, whispering to him in tones sweeter far than lover's gentlest voice, that his efforts 64 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, will not be in vain. As the ship rounds to, he catches a glimpse of the fluttering sail. There reaches his ear first a confused sound, then ^^Ahoy there, ' ' comes quavering over the water ; he bears up a little longer; soon he feels himself grasped with rough but kindly hands ; he is lifted into the yawl-boat; they are steering for the ship — ^he is saved. Oh, hope, thrice blessed, heavenly hope! what hast thou not done to cheer the disconsolate, down-hearted and distressed! Filling the heart witth rays of light, cheering the soul with beams of joy, keeping us from drifting down to misery and death, thou art surely the anchor of the soul. Thou art the guiding star which leads us away from ourselves, and anchors us safe in a Eedeem- er's love. When the sky of my life is with clouds overcast. When I fear that my troubles forever will last. Then hope, blessed hope, my sure anchor and stay, Comes to my relief and removes them away. So when I am troubled with sorrow and pain. Which dash like the billows that break on the main, Like the star which guides the lone traveler at night, Hope comes to my aid, and directs me aright. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 65 And all through my life as the older I grow, Hope shines like a beacon with much brighter glow; And. while I sojourn through a country like this, Its rays to my soul bring sweet comfort and bliss. When the grim monster, death, shall call upon me, And I from his clutches shall strive to be free, Then hope, blessed hope, bids me never despair, And points to a home free from sorrow and care. When my last hour comes, when I grapple with death. The song I shall sing with my last fleeting breath, Shall be that sweet hope to poor mortals was given, To lead them from earth through the portals of heaven. And when I shall meet with the great ransomed throng, I shall praise my Eedeemer in triumphant song. Till the echoes resound through the realms of the blest For hope anchored safe in the haven of rest. // / Were a Man l^AS a boy ever lived in the world who has not some time used the above expression; and often, too, it has been brought forth as a just accusation against the ill treatment he has received from those older than himself? The susceptibility and inquiring disposition of the average boy are re- markable. The parent who fails to recognize and foster the questioning nature of his child, does an injury to the embryo man which is often irre- parable. Dam the stream of interrogation by stern rebuff and unsatisfactory repjies, and you shut off the most interesting method which the child possesses to gain knowledge. You cannot tell by what peculiar trend of thought a boy reaches a certain conclusion; and often one word, kindly spoken, will raise him from a maze of doubt and place his feet on a solid foundation. Do not refuse to answer any reasonable question your boy may ask, and answer it, too, in a pleasant, interesting manner, always remembering that you were once a child, with a child's thoughts and de- sires, and how often your sensitive nature was offended, when you failed to receive satisfactory answers to your questions. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 67 If I were a man, if I were a man, And a boy should question me. About strange things he had heard or seen. Of the land, or the deep blue sea; Or the sky, or clouds, or wind, or rain, I would answer him in a way That would cause his childish heart to bound, A smile o'er his face to play. If I were a man, if I were a man. When the holidays drew near, I would buy my boy the prettiest toy, For the Christmas and New Year; A chest of tools and a spinning top, too, So that he could work or play — When the winter came with its frost and snow, I would buy him a handsome sleigh. If I were a man, if I were a man, I would try to understand What pleases a little boy best of all. And place it near to his hand. If it were a book or a hobby horse, A drum or a bat and ball, I'd see that he had what he wanted most. If it were a baby doll. 68 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, If I were a man^ if I were a man, And a boy to the circus went, I'd think of the days long passed away, When I crawled beneath the tent To see the lion and the elephant, And the clown with the painted face; And the mule that the boys all tried to ride, And the Shetland pony race. If I were a man, if I were a man. And a boy would questions ask, I would answer him with a pleasant smile, And assist him with his task. I would strive in an earnest, pleasant way, In a gentle voice and kind. To supply him with all important facts, To improve his youthful mind. If I were a man, if I were a man, I would not frown on a boy; But, instead, I would do the best I could To enhance his every joy. I would sympathize with his childish griefs, And his troubles strive to stay; And though I were filled with sorrow and pain, I would wipe his tears away. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 69 If I were a man, if I were a man, I 'd be a boy with the boys ; I'd join in their fun and frolics as well, And share in their griefs and joys. I'd never grow old, nor crabbed, nor cross, Nor tire of innocent fun; I would be as jolly as I knew how. Till the race of life was run. If I were a man, if I were a man, And a boy of mine should stray Away from the path of truth and right, I'd not forsake him though his stay. With the filthy swine and husks was long. And repentance came but slow — **As the twig is bent, the tree is inclined. And he would return, I know. If I were a nian, if I were a man. But the ^4f" is in the way; Though, as the passing years fly rapidly, That time is coming some day; Then I will show to the men of now, What I will accomplish then. For wonderful things will come to pass. When the boys become the men. // / Were a Boy (tCliHEN boys we long to be men. We count the slowly passing years, and wait impatiently for the time to come when we shall step beyond the confines of youth, and assume the responsibility of manhood. As boys we had wonderful day- dreams of what we would accomplish when the opportunity was afforded us to bring our brains and wisdom into operation. The world would hear from us; our exploits would be the wonder of the age; our achievements would go ringing down the corridors of time; through our efforts the great questions of the day would be satisfac- torily settled; through our ability, judgment and tact, honor, wealth and fame would be our por- tion. Our voice would be heard in legislative halls; our supreme efforts would be for the down- trodden and oppressed ; the plaudits of the people would be heard in loud acclaim, and general popu- larity would be our reward. Beautiful castles! Fascinating dreams! When manhood with its sorrows, disappointments and cares is ours to pos- sess, when responsibilities weigh us down, when adversity steals our riches and our friends, when hope droops and almost dies, and we lose faith in Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 71 human honesty — when these feelings overshadow our lives, we revert with longing thought to the days of our childhood, when we were free from the deceit, treachery and inhumanity of man. There are those in the world today who would barter riches and fame, position and power, if they couid turn away from the responsibilities of manhood and Jive over again the pleasant days they once enjoyed, when they were young and free from care. They cry out in an agony of spirit, ^ ' Oh, that I were a boy again. ' ' If I were a boj^, if I were a boy. If the time would backward flow, I would gladly stay as young as I was In the days of long ago. For I have borne all the sorrow and pain. Disappointments, grief and fears. Which come to the one who is bound to meet The troubles of manhood's years. If I were a boy, if I were a boy, With the knowledge I have gained, I would have no wish to become a man, With a conscience seared and stained; But I would hope to continue young. Nor join in the world's fierce strife; I would be contented ever to live A happy and boyish life. 72 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. If I were a boy, if I were a boy, I would while the hours away, Joining in every innocent sport, And every childish play. I would never bestow one longing thought How the sands in the hour glass ran, I would hope the day was far away, When I would become a man. If I were a boy, if I were a boy, And feeling as I now feel. Having learned the ways of the world so well, And its tendency to deal Unfairly, to gain an advantage short. As a mortal's briefest span, I would turn away to my childish play. Nor want to become a man. If I were a boy, if I were a boy. With the insight I possess Of the parent 's grief when their children rush Into vice and wickedness, I would strive to undo the foolish deeds I'd done in my youthful past. And prove to them that their prayers had been Like bread on the waters cast. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 73 If I were a boy, if I were a boy, But why should I speculate? For to be a boy but once in a life. Is a boy's predestined fate; And the worst of it is, he cannot change One whit from the Maker's plan; He must move forward until he becomes That thing which is called a man. If I were a boy, if I were a boy. And knew what remained in store — But the little word ^4f " is in the way, As many have learned before. It is in the way, and is bound to stay. So I shall do what I can. To show all the boys I 'm young in heart, Although I'm an aged man. The Sleigh Ride N many parts of this country, with its variable climate, what a sleigh ride means is scarcely un- derstood. Peop;e who have lived in the Northern states, where the snow falls in abundance, and the climatic conditions are of a character to pre- vent its melting away rapidly, can appreciate what it means to enjoy an old-fashioned, country sleigh ride. When the stars are shining brightly, and the silvery moon floats silently along, while the old man who dwells therein, through the flitting clouds makes a multitude of grotesque faces, which cast their weird shadows on the gleaming snow, how delightful, with a pair of spirited horses hitched to a farmer's sleigh, and wraps and robes to defy old Boreus in his attempts to steal the warmith and chill the blood of the participants, to dash away at a furious rate along the snow-cover- ed highway, fifteen or twenty miles; to enjoy the pleasures of a country dance and partake of the bountiful repast, the good, kind-hearted house- wife — -the impromptu hostess of the evening — knows so well how to prepare. To those who have not participated in such an event, and are igno- Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 75 rant of the delightful experience, it can truthfully be said, there is no evening's enjoyment to com- pare with it, especially when the company is com- posed of kindred spirits, whose greatest desire is to promote the pleasure and enhance the happi- ness of each other. Sometimes several sleigh loads start out together headed for the same desti- nation, and then it is a race from start to finish to ascertain what team shall lead; and not infre- quently some of them are overturned in the snow, to the great amusement of their more fortunate comrades. Sometimes, too, a breakdown adds to, rather than detracts from the night's enjoyment. Hark to the jingle of the bells. Oh, how the tinkling falls and swells. As restive horses prance around; Dull care from every brow has fled, As gliding forward in each sled. They lightly skim the frozen ground. Now hear each merry laughing voice — The boys and girls are making choice Of their companions for the drive; The swiftest horses take the lead. While each contests the others speed — To lead the way each team will strive. 76 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, But soon is seen the farm house light, Shining and twinkling in the night — Expectant comfort fills the mind; Onward over the snow they dash, The horses feel the stinging lash, And swirling trees are left behind. Their furious speed they moderate. Each smoking team stands at the gate, While mirthful boys and girls alight; The dogs run out and yelp and bark, To see a crowd out for a lark. Prepared to dance far into night. They ^ ^ trip the light, fantastic toe, ' ^ Till ceaseless time with onward flow Proclaims too soon the midnight hour; Each joins the host in rich repast, But one more dance — it is the last — Then they must break its subtle power. The whispered words of kind good-night Are spoken 'neath the moon's pale light. Then for the swift returning ride; Each maiden's waist by arm caressed. Each maiden's hand by sweetheart pressed, As homeward bound they smoothly glide. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 11 O'er snow with lightning speed they fly, With ringing shout and joyous cry, Most pleasantly they move along; When without warning something breaks, All roll out in the white snow flakes, Then quickly stops their merry song. The sleigh has undergone repair — They move along with greater care — More cautiously they forward roam; While mingling with the midnight air. Each voice of boy and maiden fair Unites in singing ^^Home, sweet home. The Fiftieth Mile Stone ^ COMPARATIVELY small number of the teeming millions born into the world ever reach the fiftieth mile stone. One of the most signifi- cant land marks encountered on life's pathway is this distinguishing characteristic, and he who reaches it has probably arrived at the most im- portant event in his earthly existence. From the eminent position which he now occupies, with ma- tured judgment and wide experience, he can take a helpful retrospective view of the past and form- ulate judicious plans for the future. The old state- ment that, after fifty years of life have passed away, man begins to lose his keenness of percep- tion, his energy and his ability to perform great deeds, is not borne out by the facts placed con- spicuously before us in the history of men of prominence and usefulness. Many men who have accomplished much more than the ordinary in their chosen vocation, have been comparatively unknown until the half-century mark has been reached; and it is a source of considerable grat- ification to the man of middle age to observe that, even in this fast age, when any great crisis threat- ens the country's welfare, the advice of those who have reached the age of ripe experience is sought HENRY 7). SEXTON, East St. Louis, Illinois. Passed "The Fiftieth Mile Stone" November 18, 1904. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 79 rather than the opinion of the younger men who have not arrived at the full stature of manhood. While there are numerous instances of young men who, by one gigantic bound, have reached the front rank in the world's affairs, and cases, too, where young financiers have arisen like meteors in the firmanent, yet, generally speaking, the older men are carrying forward the great projects of life to successful consummation be- cause earlier in life they have overcome obstacles, surmounted difiiculties, and are enabled to profit by past experience. This can be said of profes- sional as well as business men, and applies to every avenue of life open to men of large exper- ience and fully developed judgment. The man of fifty, blessed with health, should feel that he is in his prime, and capable, as never before, to accomplish great deeds which will redound to his credit and mark him as one Who has lived to some purpose and bestowed some good on his fellow- men. Ah, fifty years of age today! But yesterday a romping boy; How fast the time has sped away, With much of care and much of joy. Like arrow flying from the bow, Which cuts the air with speed of light, Like shuttle, rushing to and fro, So pass the years in rapid flight. . . 80 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, First come the hours of childish joy, The pleasures of our youthful days; A round of mirth without alloy, While walking o'er life's pleasant ways. Next come the days of manhood's prime, High hopes, ambitions, fancies, dreams, Uplifting thoughts, ideals sublime. While life with glowing prospect teems. The summit of life's hill we gain. And pause to view the prospect grand- Has life with us been lived in vain ! Would we retard the flowing sand! Does satisfaction fill the heart. As we traverse the western slope? Does duty well discharged impart A radiant glow of peace and hope! With face turned to the setting sun Along the downward path we move ; The sands of life more quickly run, And flying years too surely prove That life is but a moment's space, A dream which passes with the night, A brief, uncertain, fruitless race. Which leaves few tokens of its flight. Thoughts m Prose and Rhyme. 81 How speedily the time has fled, Yet left its marks of care behind ; Sometimes in devious pathways led, But mapped out by a Ruler kind. We know that He who guards each life And secrets of the heart can tell. Will lead us through life's fiercest strife — The Master doeth all things well. ¥ Mother's Cooking OTHER'S cooking has been a sort of by-word for many generations past, and in all probability will so continue for years to come. Many are the jokes told of the young wife's first attempts at cooking, of her ignorance of the secrets of the kitchen and of her utter inability in the beginning of her housekeeping to prepare anything eatable, not to say palatable, for herself and her young husband to eat. Many are the stories told at the expense of the young husband who has been so imprudent as to inform his young wife that her cooking did not equal that of his good, old mother. In some instances his constant reminder of the excellence of his mother's cooking ability has led to serious trouble, broken up pleasant domestic relations, and destroyed the happiness of the home, so young married men would do well to take the advice of those who have more experience than they along these lines and not parade before the sharers of their joys and sorrows their moth- er's superior knowledge of the culinary art. At the risk of displeasing the young wives the author is compelled to state that up to this late date in life there is a green spot in his memory for the Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 83 delicious beef roasts, the lamb with cranberry sauce, the veal with dressing, the pork with apple sauce, the apple pies, the mince pies, the blueberry pies, the cranberry pies, the-best-of-all-custard pies, the rich pound cake, the lovely jells and jams, the elegantly fried chicken, the roast turkey with dressing, and the appetizing apple butter which dear, old mother knew so well how to prepare. They dote on dishes rich and rare. Which foreign cooks did well prepare, And to the wealthy fed ; But tell me if you think you can. What better for the hungry man Than mother ^s home-made bread. They tell of dishes every day. Prepared in hotels, la francais. Of which good judges boast ; Of tender lamb with fresh, green peas — But nothing can by stomach please Like mother's lovely roast. They talk of buns of first-class rate The healthy appetite which sate. Which fancy bakers bake; So nicely cooked and made with care. But none of them can well compare With mother's fresh pound cake. 84 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. They talk of well made oyster stews, And highly flavored French ragonts, For which the gourmand sighs; But naught to me tastes half so good, Of all the new and stylish food, As mother's home-made pies. They tell of currant jell and jam. Of potted beef, and veal and ham. Setting mouths a-flutter; But there's no sauce of which they tell That ever suits me half so well As mother's apple butter. We/come, Spring /^FTER the winter, with its storms and snows, its piercing winds, its leafless trees, its bleak hill- sides and dreary plains, has held us in its icy em- brace for the time in which it is permitted to reign supreme, it fills our souls with life and joy to feel the first indications of approaching spring. The storm-king abdicates his throne and lays at the feet of gentle spring his frosted crown. The ice melts and disappears under the influence of the genial sunshine; the snow, which has enveloped dame nature in a garb of white, softens under the warming rays of the sun, and sinks and disap- pears in her ample bosom to moisten the germs of life, which are hidden in her breast. The migra- tory birds which left us for a warmer clime, when winter came, return once more to cheer us with their song. Soon the flowers begin to peep from beneath the sod, with bashful eyes, fearing they may have made their appearance all too soon. The bees are aroused from their winter sleep, and the faint humming in the hive is an indication that, true to instinct, they are awake and making prep- aration once more to store their waxen cells with 86 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. honied sweetness gathered from the opening flow- ers. If we were as closely controlled by reason as the bees, the birds and the beasts of the field are guided by instinct, along what different path- ways would we walk, and how differently would our lives be lived. How seldom we stop to con- sider Him who holds worlds in the palm of His hand, and from whom flow all the blessings we enjoy. Welcome, balmy days of spring, When the birds their carols sing. You are here! Peeping from beneath the sod. Buttercup and golden rod, Wake to cheer! The violets with welcome gaze Meet the sun's effulgent rays Without fear. Robin red-breast seeks his mate, Calling early, calling late: **Come, love, come! I am waiting, dear, on you. Vows of true love to renew. In our home ! Singing merry, charming lays. Together, through the nesting days, Let us roam/* Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 87 Buzzing 'round the budding trees, Note the humming of the bees, Hear them sing — Search the meadows through and through. When the sun dries off the dew- Sweetness bring ! Store in cell and winding maze Honey for the winter days, In the spring. Ev'ry living, moving thing, Getting ready for the spring. Don't you see! Nature dons her vernal dress. Brings for all a fond caress. Given free! We should join in hymns of praise. Singing through the balmy days, You and me. Man, created lord and king. Should a grateful tribute bring, All day long ! Thankful for the time to sow. Thanks on Nature's god bestow. Clear and strong! Let each heart with fervor raise Sonnets praising Spring-time days. In sweet song. Memories OW sacred are the memories of the past, espe- cially to those who have crossed the meridian of life! How gladly we turn from present disap- pointment and care to live over again the pleas- ures of by-gone days. As our parents did before US; we tell to the young around us stories of our youth, of the happy times we then enjoyed, and strive to impress on them the fact that the amuse- ments which they now enjoy are greatly changed from the pleasures of our youthful days ; but when we sum it all up, we are led to the conclusion that our knowledge of life is as one pebble compared to the unlimited number found on the ocean shore. We have learned but little of the great truths which have effected our existence here, and which will have an important effect on our destiny in the great beyond. The conclusion to the whole matter is that this life is for a wise purpose, and it becomes our bounden duty to make the most of it. To enjoy its pleasures, bear its sorrows, fight its battles and do all the good we can as we travel along its tortuous pathway, are duties which we are bound to recognize, if we have any Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 89 desire to approach perfect manhood. He who speaks the kindly word, extends the helping hand, ^'laughs with those who laugh and weeps with those who weep/' will be praised of men, and loved by those whose burdens he helps to bear. From memory's hall where time has long been keeping Facts and fancies which we treasured there, Which are not dead but in our memory sleeping, We cull the flowers of remembrance fair. We live once more the times of joy and weeping, The changing pleasures of our giddy youth; We feel our knowledge into nothing creeping. For we have known of untruth more than truth. The cherished memories of the past draw nearer, We feel again the joys of other days ; We live once more in scenes to us much dearer, Than to the poet's ear are heav'nly lays. The songs which reach us from the past are clearer, The mellow fruit in youth had sweeter taste. But now when to life's end we draw the nearer. Our life oft seems a dreary, cheerless waste. 90 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. This mortal life was for a purpose given And we must fight its battles, if we win ; For though our hearts by sorrow may be riven, To shirk our duty were a grievous sin. If all through life we manfully have striven To bear our burdens, and mankind to love, We'll dwell throughout an endless age in heaven. And merge our sorrows in the joys above. Then let us cast aside our useless dreaming. And live the moments as they pass along; Hope in our hearts, smiles from our faces beaming, Will make of life a grand and noble song. The w^hole of life for mortals ' good is teeming With much of joy, and pleasures rich abound; The clouds uplift, the beams of hope are gleaming. The dawning light is spreading joys around. Closer than a Brother 3[n writing the prelude to the verses which follow, nothing better nor more appropriate can be said than to quote Senator Vest's ^^ Tribute to a Dog,'' delivered while he was attending court in a country town. He was paid a fee of $250.00 to take the case of the plaintiff in this celebrated cause. Voluminous evidence was introduced to show that the defendant had shot the dog in malice, while other evidence went to show that the dog had attacked the defendant. Vest took no part in the trial and was not disposed to speak. The attorneys, however, urged him to make a speech, else their client would not think he had earned his fee. Being thus urged, he arose, scanned the face of each juryman for a moment, and then said : ^'Gentlemen of the Jury — The best friend a man has in the world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name may become traitors to their faith. The 92 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, money that a. man has he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps, when he needs it most. A man's reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads. The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog. A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow, and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer; he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert he remains. When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens. *^If fortune drives the master forth an out- cast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him, to guard against danger, to Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 93 fight against his enemies. And when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace, and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by the graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his pays, his eyes sad, but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even in death. ^ ' Then Vest sat down. He had spoken in a low voice, without any gesture. He made no reference to the evidence or the merits of the case. When he finished judge and jury were wiping their eyes. The jury filed out, but soon entered with a verdict in favor of the plaintiff for $500.00. He had sued for $200.00. It is even said that some of the jurors wanted to hang the defendant. I once had a doggie called Pompey, Playmate to my wee darling boy ; And often their tricks and their antics, Would all my attention employ. Wherever my little boy wandered, The dog was his guardian complete ; And when my boy slept, being weary, Old Pompey was found at his feet. 94 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. My wee boy was lost in the forest, Where maple trees sobbed in the wind; Where the ash, the elm and the birches With mosses and ivy were lined. We prayed and we searched and we fretted, But all of our efforts were vain; And yet we kept longing and wishing To find our wee darling again. At length a faint barking attracted, With cadence, sweet, striking the ear; We knew it was Pompey announcing : ^ ' I 'm watching, have never a fear. ^ ' Near by we discovered my darling. On Pompey he pillowed his head ; Safe, resting, in innocent childhood, Asleep on a soft, leafy bed. When you see a dog looking friendless. Aimlessly wandering alone. Oh, never attempt to abuse him. But give him a bite or a bone. Oh, man! let humanity guide you! Inscribe this in memory's ^4og": * ^ When sorrow and trouble betide you, Man's truest, best friend is his dog." The Sai/or's 7)es/re vL HEEE is a fascination about the waters of the deep, blue sea which is not understood and, conse- quently, not appreciated by those who have never sailed over its watery depths, nor been rocked on its rolling billows; but to the old sailor, whose home has been on the bosom of the great deep, the ocean has a peculiar attraction which is difficult to define and which it is impossible to destroy. Take ''the old salt" away from his accustomed haunts and, like a home-sick child, he longs to re- turn to his former vocation, be once more asso- ciated with familiar scenes, and share again in their pleasures and their pains. While the sail- or 's life is an arduous one^ and fraught with many dangers, yet there is something about the life which, if once enjoyed, cannot easily be forsaken. The retired veteran of the sea is never more hap- py than when relating incidents of his life on the waters, of his visits to foreign shores, and of the strange things he has heard and seen. There is something, too, about the broad expanse of waters, and the ceaseless ebb and flow of the moving tides that give to those who have made their home for 96 'Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. years on the ocean's briny depths, broad views of existence, and of the wonderful and mysterious ways of Providence, after which many of us could pattern with abundant profit. The old sea dog be- comes so closely attached to his ship that he would not forsake her in disaster, but prefer to go to a watery grave rather than desert her in the hour of peril. Oh I long to go back to the deep, rolling sea — Let me gaze once again on its waters so blue ; Let me view its rough billows so dashing and free. And afloat on its bosom old friendships renew. There is nothing so sweet as its health-giving air, There is never a spot like its beautiful shore ; In my visions and dreams I am wandering there, But, awaking, I sigh to behold thee once more. Oh, how deep are its waters, its treasures are rare, Its wealth is unmeasured, and its secrets un- known ; And thousands of lives have been doomed to despair. When in anger its billows have over them flown. It is cruel alike to its friends and its foes. And when angry man tries to control it in vain ; As the swain on his loved one affection bestows. So I long to be rocked on its broad breast again. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 97 Far removed from the haunts of the haughty and proud, To set sail on its waters, light-hearted and gay — Oh the roar of its billows is calling aloud, From ^'the land lubber's haunts'' to entice me away. With no prison-like walls to encompass me round, With nothing above me but heaven's high dome, On its clear, flowing waters true comfort is found, And on its broad bosom, the sailor's loved home. When the wild storm is raging, and whitens the crest Of the billows which lash with their fury and foam. Or when it is lulled into calmness and rest, I'm contented upon its loved waters to roam. To dwell on its waters, on its billows to ride, I'm delighted to spend all my time upon thee; And when my ships floats on eternity's tide. Let me rise from a grave in the billowy sea. Life*s 'history \L HERE are those who are inclined to weigh life too lightly, never for a moment thinking^ that every one who reaches the age of accountability is responsible to his Maker, his fellowman and himself for the way he spends his time, and for the good which he accomplishes. It is not enough that he passes through life thinking of himself alone, pandering to his own passions, no matter how sordid these desires may be; but he has a graver duty to perform, a mission in the world to which he must give the closest attention, if he would acquit himself as a man and keep his skirts spotless from blame. The history of some lives can be written in these words : ^ ' They are born, they exist, they eat, they sleep, they die.'' Oh, how barren of results, how impoverished the soul, how scant the fruition of those who take no thought for their own improvement, for the bene- fits they bring to others, nor for the rich reward which comes to him who has fulfilled the require- ments of the law, which says, ' ' Thou art thy broth- er 's keeper.'' The preparatory season, the spring time of life, with its innocent pleasures, is to be en- Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 99 joyed while the soil is being prepared for the sow- ing of the seed; but the summer of life, when the fruit is ripening, when the grain is maturing, is the all-important period, the time when our life work should be done, if we wish to '^gather in the sheaves" at the great harvesting. Then in the closing days of autumn, with the fruits of a life garnered, we can contentedly wait for winter's frosts and storms, feeling that our life has not been lived in vain. When the blades of grass are springing, And the flowers deck the hill; When the water softly singing. Flows a-down the winding rill; When the birds to nest are meeting. And their love-songs sweetly sing; When the little lambs are bleating, Then we hail approaching spring. When the fields of grain are waving, And the clover is in bloom; When all nature has a craving For the flower's sweet perfume; When God's handiwork is singing To resemble Heaven's chime, Then the summer days are bringing The delightful harvest time. l.cTC. 100 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, When the leaves are turning yellow, And the nights are growing cold ; When the orchard fruits are mellow, And the grain is tinged with gold; Vf hen the bees are gently humming, And for stores no longer roam; To the reapers then is coming The Autumnal harvest home. When the leafless trees are bending, With the storm's relentless power; When the mad north wind is rending Each trysting-place and bower ; When the earth, benumbed, is sleeping. When the Frost King chills life 's veins. And high carnival is keeping. Then we know that winter reigns. As comes the varying changes Of our sorrows, hopes and fears, So the All-wise King arranges The four seasons of our years ; Into summer bright spring merges, Pleasant summer into fall; Then bleak winter chants the dirges, And the grave is heir to all. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 101 But put off your garb of mourning, All the dead shall rise again; Spring returns, with life adorning Every barren hill and plain; So the grave shall yield its treasure, And the risen dead shall sing, In a mighty, joyous measure, ^^ Grasping death, where is thy sting!'* Truth ^HE search after truth to settle any disputed question is a laudable undertaking. When the theory was first advanced that the earth was not a level plain, but was round like a ball, much time and expense were exhausted to arrive at the truth concerning the problem which the philosphers of that day were trying to solve. Through all past centuries, wise men have branched ofP into all the various channels of thought, seeking after the truth, trying to prove or disprove some important proposition, the falsity or correctness of which was bound to have a great bearing on the destiny of mankind. Men of science have spent years try- ing to ascertain the purpose had in view when the Egyptians built the great Sphinx, which stands as a monument to their architectural skill and amaz- ing perseverance. Large sums of money have been expended to discover all the truth regarding the pyramids which stand as monuments to the tyranny of kings and the patience of an oppressed people. Thousands of instances could be given to Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 103 show that the world is hungry for the truth touch- ing temporal things ; and much of its advancement is due to its insatiable desire to explode false theo- ries and establish truthful doctrines regarding dis- puted questions. The problem which is of the greatest import, fraught with the most momentous results, is that of our eternal destiny. This is the question of all others in which we should be the most deeply interested. This is the question which has a personal application to every human soul. What is the truth concerning our future condition? Do we die as brutes, or have we a spiritual exist- ence which must run parallel with the longest lines of eternity! Inclined to the latter proposition, we believe the key to the situation is found in the words of Christ Himself when He says : ^ ' I am the way, the truth and the life. ' ' Where shall I seek this precious pearl, Where find this jewel rare! Within the gilded halls of wealth. Is it discovered there! Where lies this hidden, shining gem, Kind angel tell to me! Where can I find this flawless pearl In all its purity ! 104 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. I searched among the kings of earth AVith jewels richly crowned, Beseeching them to guide my course To where this gem was found. But none would lead my steps aright, Or heed my cries and tears ; They left me groping in the dark, Beset with doubts and fears. I viewed the busy marts of trade, With doubt and hope combined ; I sought with ardent diligence, This lovely gem to find ; But all in vain — I found it not, Where jealousies control — No room for its effulgent light Where vices fill the soul. I trod the humbler walks of life. Where poverty doth reign ; I asked it of the lowly poor, Alas ! I sought in vain. They answered not where I might find This pearl of priceless worth; Some thought it lay beneath the sea. Some in the mines of earth. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 105 I asked the learned pliilosopliers, Well versed in liidden lore ; They promised me an answer true, But failed to tell me more. I turned to priests and ministers, In my distress and need. To learn from them if this fair gem Were found in church or creed. I searched and hunted everywhere. And yet the gem I sought Was found not in kings' palaces, Nor in the poor man's cot. I gave up searching in despair, A voice then said to me : ^'Go search the Scripture and you'll find This gem of purity." I took the Bible for my guide, I pressed it to my heart; I learned its precepts and from them I cannot well depart. I'm happy now that I possess This gem of priceless worth Which shepherds found in Bethlehem When Jesus Christ had birth. 106 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, Come, all ye nations of the earth, And hear the Savior's word; Accept Him as a gracious king, Your Savior, Master, Lord. Possess this sacred gem called Truth, And wear it all your days ; Follow this saving, guiding Light — Hear what the Master says ; *^I am the way, the Truth, the life. The world may come to me ; I gave my life, my blood was shed. To set the nations free. ' ' Oh, wondrous, everlasting Truth! What blessings Thou hast brought ! Thou art the precious, sacred gem Through all the ages sought. The Coming Morn itfliHILE there are many pleasant things in this life, many occurrences to make us happy, many events to cause our hearts to rejoice, it is not all sunshine, the sky is not always clear, we are not always free from care. Difficulties arise, disap- pointments come, troubles overtake us, obstacles block our pathway, clouds darken the skies, sor- rows pierce the heart like lightning's fatal flash, bereavements make us mourn, friendships are broken, the billows of adversity overwhelm us un- til we are driven almost to despair. Our sons and our daughters upon whom we have lavished a wealth of love and devotion, may prove ungrateful and but poorly requite us for what we have done for them. The money which a man has sometimes takes to itself wings and flies away, and in place of his being able to live in comfort and ease during his old days, poverty and want are his portion. Friends faithful for years, through some unex- plainable fickleness found in human nature, be- 108 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. come estranged, and how keen is the pain when the cords of friendship are broken, when those nearest and dearest to us, those whom we have trusted vrith our happiness and our good name, have be- come traitors to our cause. The pangs of regret wrench our hearts, as in a vise, for some foolish action performed, some unkind word hastily spoken. Those who have been ready to applaud our success, and free to sing our praise, have sometimes been the first to cast the stone of malice or of ridicule when the clouds of failure hung darkly over our heads. It appears to be the lot of some men to be misunderstood, and to have their acts misconstrued. Good deeds performed with the best intent have been attributed to sinister motives, and men have been censured for acts which, had the intent been understood, would have called forth the loudest praise. Away to the east- ward the sky is lighted up with a mellow light, the dawn is breaking, soon appearing over the hill- tops is seen the morning sun. The glorious orb of day rises higher and higher in the heavens, the darkness disappears, the clouds disperse and the beautiful morning brings light and hope to all mankind. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 109 When the clouds are hanging heavy, and the times are sad and drear, When the days are damp and chilly, and no sun- light comes to cheer ; When your money has departed, and your friends have quickly gone. When your former great exertions you no longer lean upon ; When your married sons and daughters have no room for such as you, Wlien the pleasant things of this life have depart- ed as the dew; When the darkness is the darkest, just before the dawn of day. Will the breaking of the morning drive the moving clouds away? When your youthful aspirations have been shat- tered by a breath, When unsatisfied ambitions have been doomed to instant death; When your reputation's injured, casting doubt upon your name. When you pass a-down the hillside and no longer wish for fame ; 110 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. When your dearest hopes are blasted, when your acts are misconstrued, When you know that friendships broken can at no time be renewed ; When you feel sad and disheartened, when your spirit brave is cowed, Will the coming of the morning chase away the hanging cloud? When misfortune's cruel winepress squeezes to the very dregs, When poor, degraded, fallen man for mercy loudly begs ; When environments compel us of the bitter cup to drink. When the billows overwhelm us, in the rolling waves we sink; When all torn and bruised and mangled in the world's uneven fight, When denounced, abused, berated for defending truth and right ; When false criticisms crush us and we hasten to our doom. Will the coming of the morning disperse the gath- ering gloom? Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 111 "When we weary of the actions of the giddy, foolish throng, When the wicked seem to flourish, and the thought- less do us wrong; When we feel depressed and lonely, when our friends against us turn. When the envious persecute us, and our kindly actions spurn; When the days are long and dreary, and we are sore distressed, When we drop life 's heavy burden, and cry out for endless rest; When grim death, the liberator, breaks the world 's unenvied sway. Then the glories of the morning drive the passing clouds away. Merry Christmas VChEISTMAS comes and goes, and each succeed- ing Christmas time the children hang their stock- ings on the mantle and go to bed to dream of the beautiful things which Santa Claus will bring them, while their eyes are closed and they are wrapped in slumber. For hundreds of years the children have been dreaming these beautiful dreams, and they will do so as long as the nations of the earth continue to believe in a dying Saviour and a risen God. Each year the Christmas chimes ring out with loud acclaim, reminding the world of God's love and sacrifice, exhibited in the gift of his son to save a world from endless death. What unbounded love! What glorious sacrifice! That God in His infinite love and mercy should bestow such a priceless^ wonderful gift to save poor, fallen humanity, surpasses all human under- standing, transcends all power of appreciation. When we contemplate the immensity of the sacri- Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 113 fice, we are lost in wonder, love and praise. Through the civilized world, in some form or other, the people will commemorate the day when the angels sang: '^ Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will to men. ' ' If during the Christmas festivities, we would keep constant- ly before our minds the fact that the greatest gift ever bestowed, was when God gave His only Son to bear our burden, and to be punished for our sins which came through Adam's fall, our hearts would be tilled with gratitude, and we would strive to make others happy. It is more pleasant to give than to receive, so if we have nothing more, we can bestow a kindly word and a pleasant smile, scattering sunshine everywhere. And the beauty of it all is^ the more we smile on others, and the kindlier we speak, the greater happiness we enjoy. Oh, Christmas times ! Oh, Christmas times ! They come but once a year. And why not greet them with a smile As well as with a tear. Oh joyous, welcome Christmas time! The Savior's natal day. When unto us the Christ was given. To bear our sins away. 114 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, Oh, Christmas times ! Oh, Christmas times ! Let grief and pain depart. And joy and peace and thankfulness, Be found in every heart; And for the shame and pain and death, Christ suffered here below, Let all our grateful thoughts and words; With kindness overflow. Oh, Christmas times ! Oh, Christmas times ! Let every selfish thought Be banished when we know the good For us through Jesus bought. Let God-like impulse fill the soul. And all our wishes be To pattern from His wondrous love And gracious charity. Oh, Christmas times ! Oh, Christmas times ! With one united voice. Let all the world their paens sing. And every soul rejoice. Let heathen tribes with thankful hearts Before the Savior fall. And all the ransomed join to crown The Savior Lord of all. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 115 Oil, Christmas times ! Oh, Christmas times ! Proclaim a Savior slain. To save a stricken, sin-cursed world, Nor shall He bleed in vain. Ring out, ring out, ye chiming bells, Till Heaven with praise resounds ! And let the welcome tidings reach To earth's remotest bounds. Oh, Christmas times! Oh, Christmas times! What happiness you bring, Eecalling to our minds the songs The Heavenly angels sing. The music of that glorious morn — We hear it once again: • * Glory to God in highest strains. On earth, good will to men. ' ' The Story of the Wind JiF THE wind were given a voice, what wondrous tales of joy and woe it could impart ! It could tell of the lone traveler, lost on the trackless waste, longing for a gentle, cooling breeze to fan his fevered brow, and how in answer to his dying prayer, a gentle zephyr sweeps over his wan face and sports with his curly locks till, in half dreamy condition, his imagination carries him back to the old homestead and to his accustomed place at his father's fireside. This cooling breeze carries his thoughts back to the time when, kneel- ing at his mother 's knee, her fingers, with graceful touch, strayed back and forth through his wavy hair as she listened to the story of his first great sorrow, or with a mother's tenderness spoke words of comfort which fell on his listening ear and cooled his heated fancy, as the gentle wind now fans his burning brow. It could tell of in- numerable jokes practiced on the precise and dig- nified for very wantonness of purpose. It could relate how in its wrath it has dashed mighty ships against the jagged rocks, and sent hundreds to a watery grave with the same ease that it lifts the Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 117 fallen, brown-tinged leaf from its leafy bed. It could speak of how, in its rage, it has dashed the kings of the forest to the earth, breaking them like twigs of brittle wood, and scattering mighty build- ings, man's boasted handiwork, like chaff before the wind. It could tell of sights of comfort and visions of woe, of pestilence and famine, of squalid poverty and sorrow, of opulence and wealth; of fields of yellow, waving grain, and of kissing the dewy lips of the first budding flowers of spring. It could give an account of the baloon as it moves on its trackless way, silently floating on the aerial sea. It has measured the waves of the ocean; ex- plored the caves of the earth ; gone with the alba- tros in its loftiest flight, and ruffled the eagle's feathers as he has perched on the highest pinnacle of earth. Tell me, oh wind, your grievous tale ! Why do you weep and sigh 1 Why with a sad and mournful wail, Breathe out your life and die? Can you not sing some happy strains Of other lands than ours. Where lovely summer always reigns. And ever-blooming flowers? 118 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, The lonely isle, the peopled main, Where bustling cities stand, Have listened to the moaning strain Yon sing in every land; But as you run your constant race Onward and never cease. Have you not found some quiet place. Where reigns eternal peace ! You travel over land and sea, Where ocean's billows foam; Where cooling breezes fan the lea, Your footsteps gently roam. Can you not name some shady nook. With peace and quiet blessed, Near babbling stream, or purling brook. Where weary ones may rest! You journey over all the earth. All climes have felt your breath You rage, destruction has its birth. And in your path is death. Can you not tell, who travel far. And foreign shores caress. Is there on earth no guiding star Which leads to happiness? Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 119 ^ ^ Nay, foolish mortal, ask me not, Where peace and quiet reign ; I cannot tell, for 'tis thy lot To suffer grief and pain. If thou shouldst live for three score years, Thy portion still must be. To meet with pain, to quake with fears. While sailing o'er life's sea. ^^But still there is a glorious light, To weary mortals given. Which drives away the lingering night, And points the way to Heaven. For rest and peace have no distress. No longer mourn for them; There is a guide to happiness — The Star of Bethlehem." ^M m Fallen Church S)INCE the time when the Christian church was established, centuries ago, many innovations 'have been introduced, and remarkable departures from the rules and regulations promulgated by its early adherents have taken place. Whether these have been a benefit or a detriment, is a question which can only be decided by settling the point, whether we should remain close to the teachings of the Savior, or draw away from them, keeping up a semblance only of the marks which characterize the followers of the meek and lowly Jesus. If the latter is the means through which shall come eter- nal joy and peace to the world, then surely were the work being pushed to a speedy consummation, and the emmisaries of Satan should introduce more new ideas, as fast as possible, so that they may point with pride to their handiwork. If the former is the proper course to pursue, then, in- deed, have we departed from the straight and nar- row path, as did the Israelites of old, and we are Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 121 guilty in the sight of God. Today, if a man has money, and is willing to contribute liberally to the support of the church, no matter how vile his daily walk before the world may be, he is taken into the church, and in some instances, is made one of its honored members. After such deeds as these are performed by the chosen representatives of the church, they wonder why decent people hold them- selves aloof, and refuse to enter into a partner- ship with Satan through his servants who have joined the ranks of God^s people to further the cause of the devil, their master. They are wolves in sheep's clothing, and the sooner the church purges itself of such, the sooner will the kingdom of God thrive and prosper. A faithful church of former days, Had prospects clear and bright ; Their sole desire and efforts were To serve their God aright. The Master's love was in their hearts. They kept his gracious laws; With singleness of thought and mind. Advanced the Savior 's cause. 122 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. The members of this christian band, Lived right from day to day ; To often meet was their delight, To watch, to sing and pray ; And so these godly, upright men, And christian women, too. Proved faithful to the Master's work. To every vow were true. Years passed away, and still they wrought The world to aid and bless ; They met the high with truthful grace. The poor with kind caress. They pointed out the downward path, Where wickedness begins; And labored day and night to save The godless from their sins. Now Satan watched this growing church With ill concealed desire ; And as he watched their christian zeal, His mind was filled with ire. 'Twas his sole thought to capture them, And lead them by the hand, Wlio formed this ever spreading church. This true and fearless band. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 123 He worked and schemed with diligence To break down every plan Laid by each member of this church To save his fellowman. His progress first was hard and slow — God's saints on manna fed. When he appeared: ^^Get thee behind'* Was what each member said. Thus failing, he sought other means, Did time and thought bestow To wreck the plans the church had made. And lay the christian low. He worked and planned that he might win Each Judas to his side; And then, with cunning known to him, Dissentions scattered wide. Base traitors who had sold their souls For this world's pelf and gain. Sowed seeds of wickedness and strife. Nor were they sown in vain. These men who served the devil well. The church's standard lowered; And Satan smiled and claimed that he A winning point had scored. 124 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. Vile men and those who reeked with lust, Found place upon the roll; Those filled with wickedness and those Who loved the flowing bowl ; Till lust and vice and evil reigned Where purity should dwell ; God's former dwelling-place was changed Into an earthly hell. At length old Satan's work was done, All harmony destroyed ; Gone from them was the happiness, These people once enjoyed. Then Satan laughed with fiendish glee, A wicked boast he made. That he had won against the church— The power of God was stayed. Oh Lord, make bare Thy powerful arm, The wicked to confound ; Bring, Lord, to naught their sinful plans. Nor let their vice abound. Though Satan sometimes may prevail, And grievous trouble send. Through the Eedeemer we shall prove Victorious in the end. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 125 Dear Lord, we humbly ask of thee, Thy church to purify ; Love, cherish and protect her as The apple of Thine eye. Make her a house where Thou canst live, Which Thou canst own and bless ; A house where Jesus Christ may dwell. The King of Righteousness. ^ Future "^ome vIUHE question of a home beyond the grave, a happy, future existence, where grief and pain and sorrow are not known, and where all tears are wiped away, is one which has agitated the minds of philosophers and sages during all the past ages. Is there a future state! This question has wracked the brain and disturbed the thought of the world's greatest thinkers; but today the con- census of opinion is that after man's sojourn through this world, he will live in another state, and will be subject to future rewards and punish- ments consequent on his actions in this life, which is understood to be a probationary state to fit him to dwell in a land of peace ; but failing to live up to the requirements, he will be denied the privil- ege of entering the heavenly kingdom. The ortho- dox plan of salvation is logical as well as beautiful, has been nutured so carefully, has taken such deep root, and has withstood the violent storms of per- secution so staunchly, that today, if some super- human power were to reveal to man that the chris- tian religion was but a myth, the nations of the TJioughts in Prose and Rhyme. 127 earth would be much slower to accept such a theory, than they have been to accept the simple plan in which they now believe. It is not the inten- tion at this time to enter into any labored argu- ment to convince the sceptical regarding the plan of redemption, nor of the future rewards which are bestowed on the good, and the punishments which are meted out to the wicked, but simply to state the general opinion, that there is an eternal city, there is a heavenly home, there is a house of many mansions prepared for those who believe in Christ and accept him as their Savior. This being true, it is acting the part of wisdom to so live that we may inherit that mansion in the heavenly city prepared for those who believe in Christ as the world's Redeemer. Is there a land from sorrow free, Where I can have surcease From all the ills that trouble me, A calm and perfect peace? Where is this long sought happy land, Free from all pain and care? Oh, kindly take me by the hand, And gently lead me there. 128 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, I fain would quit the haunts of man, Leave grief and pain behind, To free myself from Adam's ban Which rests on all mankind. Oh, may I not escape its power, The curse of God preclude? Oh make me for one little hour. Free from solicitude. Is there no land where truth had birth, By God forever blessed. Where weary souls who dwell on earth, May find eternal rest 1 Oh, tell me not the end is here. Where life doth but begin. Where all is darkness, doubt and fear, And wickedness and sin. I cannot bear the awful thought Which doth my soul oppress ; Where is this home by christians sought, Free from all wickedness 1 It cannot be, oh, gracious Lord, We must in sorrow roam. If we accept thy saving word. And seek this future home. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 129 Thou hast prepared a dwelling place, A city bright and fair, Wliere we shall see Thy shining face, And meet our Savior there. Then we shall know as we are known, God will remove our fears, And stooping from the great white throne, Shall wipe away our tears. There is a mansion in this home. Prepared for you and me, Where pain and sickness never come. From sin and sorrow free. Lord guide our halting steps aright. Help us to guard them well. That we may make a winning fight. In paradise to dwell. The Heavenly Land 3[f the christian belief is founded on fact, if his theory of a future state of happiness is not a myth, if he has good and sufficient reason for his faith, and it is generally conceded that he has, then should he be happy in the hope that, when he quits this vale of tears, he will dwell in the heavenly city — a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. He should be, and observation leads to the conclusion that he is, the happiest mortal among all the teeming millions who inhabit this mundane sphere. To enjoy this earthly existence, to share in its pleasures and to partake of the hap- piness which it affords, to feel its sorrows, to bear its griefs, its disappointments and its cares, hav- ing with him the ever-present consciousness that some day, in the great beyond, he will have no more sorrow, no more trouble, no more pain — this is a consummation devoutly to be wished, and one which is promised to all those who have chosen Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 131 *^ rather to suffer affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season/' No one can fully explain that future existence, where all is felicity and joy and peace, where sor- rows never come and where all tears are forever wiped away; but it is frequently compared to a beautiful city, whose walls are of jasper and whose streets are of gold. Clear, crystal streams flow through its borders, beautiful trees laden with de- licious fruits line its marble walls, ambrosial flow- ers scent the air, and birds of rich and beautiful plumage sing their ceaseless songs. This descrip- tion doubtless falls far short of what the reality will unfold to the weary soul who gains admit- tance through the pearly gates, but it can all be summed up in the words, ^ ^ Peace, eternal peace. ' ' Beautiful land where the sweet scented flowers Send forth their perfumes all the year ; Birds sing their songs in the cool shady bowers, The days are not chilly nor drear. The night with its shades never visits that land, And the sun never ceases to shine; - The dwellers therein are a peace-loving band. And controlled by a Euler divine. 132 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. No sickness nor sorrow appears in that place, No death scenes within it are found ; No spirit of wickedness there to disgrace, Kich pleasures eternal abound. In that country are heard no heart-breaking sighs. While the years of eternity roll ; No obstacles rise to becloud the clear skies. Nor burden the blood-ransomed soul. The ever-green trees, gently swayed by the breeze. Make music delightful to hear; The lovely surroundings are fashioned to please. Naught offending the sensitive ear. All the people who dwell in that city above. Whose faces with radiance beam. Are guided and led by the Euler's great love, Which flows like a clear, crystal stream. Would you moor life's bark in that haven of rest. Safe anchored from sorrow and care ? Would you dwell in that land the Savior has blessed. That country delightfully fair? Then walk in the path of the humble and meek, Bow low 'neath the scourge of the rod ; Possess the great pearl which you ardently seek — • The smile of a merciful God. Heavenly Light aSuHERE are some people who appear to be con- stantly striving after something which is, to them, unattainable, and although they strive earnestly and honestly to reach the goal, the object of their desire seems to be as far distant as it was in the beginning of the struggle. This is especially true regarding the christian life, and particularly no- ticeable as touching young converts. Some are converted who seem to enter immediately into a broad spiritual existence, while others, equally as sincere, for some reason, never appear to possess that freedom which denotes deliverance from the requirements of a broken law. The latter are forever lingering and shivering on the brink, ^^and fear to launch away''; while the former with an abiding faith in the promises of God, are able to strike out from the shore, and meet their Savior on a sea of joy. It surely is a grand climax to see an old person who has kept his faith well grounded on the Rock of Ages, grow stronger and stronger spiritually as he draws nearer and nearer the river's brink. As he passes down the hillside, his experience grows brighter, for he is hastening to a glorious sunset, and will son behold the heav- enly light. 134 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. Cold winter rests upon my head, But spring eternal fills my heart ; Along Christ's pathway I am led — I soon from earthly care shall part. My soul ascends on eagle's wings, I long to meet with spirits bright ; And, oh, the comfort which it brings, When I am led by heavenly light. Our strength grows weaker as we pass Along life 's way and older grow ; Old age and pain our souls harass. We meet with sorrow, grief and woe. We struggle hard for earthly things — We eat and drink and fondly love — But carnal joy no comfort brings. Nor leads our thoughts to things above. Oh, weary, wandering, burdened soul, Look up and see yon guiding star, Which leads to an eternal goal. Where sin and sorow cannot mar. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 135 No trouble weighs the spirit down, Nor binds it fast with galling chain ; But there the righteous wear a crown, . And live because the Christ was slain. Oh, come and at this fountain drink. At this life-giving spring of youth Nor linger, shivering, on the brink. But launch into a sea of truth. Dwell in the sunshine of the Lord, Forsake the dark and dreary night — His name be everywhere adored. Who lifts us up to heavenly light. ••••••• •• •• ¥ The Christian's Claim VjuO BE the king of an earthly realm, to rule over an empire, to govern a mighty state, teeming with millions of people, is an exalted position for which men have striven in all ages of the world's history. War has been waged, blood has been shed, conn- tries have been impoverished, lands have been de- populated, awful crimes have been committed, murders have been perpetrated, to enable ambi- tious men to rule a kingdom, or control an empire. How much of intrigue, how much of corruption, how much of villainous purpose, how much of bloodshed has come to destroy the peace and ruin the prospects of thousands in order that unworthy men, with purpose vile, might gain authority and power over a transitory kingdom which at the longest must be of short duration, and at the most must soon totter and fall. How different is the christian's claim! The rightful heir to a throne, joint heir with the heavenly King, no one to dis- pute his right, no one to contest his accession, his title is clear to a crown and a throne, if he but ful- fill the required conditions which are said to be so plain * ' that a wayfaring man, though a fool in other respects, need not err therein." Then, too, if the orthodox are right, this kingdom for which Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 137 he strives, and this crown which he shall wear, are neither perishable nor transitory, but they con- tinue throughout eternal ages for the great Ruler of that celestial realm is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end of all things. While that great and eternal empire endures and that mighty King holds sway, the christian shall reign in the realm of the blessed, and proclaim to the teeming millions who shall inhabit that coun- try, ^ * I am heir to a throne, and a king. ^ ' I am heir to a throne of jasper and gold, A king of a realm, bright and fair; I soon shall depart for the heavenly fold, Away from all sorrow and care. And when I draw near to that beautiful land, The sheaves of the harvest to bring, The Savior will give me a welcoming hand, Proclaim me an heir and a king. Then the angels will sing, the heavens resound For Him who for rebels was slain ; That a sinner, redeemed, was lost, but is found — Returned to his kingdom again. A crown on my brow, I shall fearlessly stand. While plaudits of heaven shall ring ; A harp in my hand, I shall join the great band, Sweet music of angels to sing. 138 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. I shall roam the green fields, bathe in the clear streams Which nothing can ever defile; I shall rest with the blessed, and bask in the beams Of my Lord's affectionate smile. I shall feed on sweet fruits, and drink at' the springs Which rise in the city above; And praise my Redeemer who salvation brings Through the strength of His undying love. I shall never grow weary, be always at rest. In the cycles which have not an end ; I shall lean on the arm, repose on the breast Of Jesus, my Savior and Friend. When thousands of ages have glided away, My voice in loud praises shall ring ; I yet shall be shouting through unending day *^I am heir to a throne, and a king.'' The Golden Gate kL/HFj term quarantine, as originally applied, re- ferred to tlie time during which a ship arriving in port, and known or suspected to be infested with a malignant, contagious disease, was obliged to forbear all intercourse with the place to which she had arrived. It now refers to the inforced isola- tion of individuals and certain objects, coming, whether by sea or land, from a place where dan- gerous communicable disease is presumably or ac- tually present, with a view to limiting the spread of the malady. The soul in its unregenerate con- dition is said to be suffering from a malady the most malignant of which the human mind can con- ceive. According to the belief of some theologians it is held in quarantine for a period to cleanse it from the polution with which it is stained through the sickness from which it has suffered. In keep- ing with the teachings of another school, no pre- paratory course is required to entirely eradicate all traces of the trouble, and completely relieve it 140 TJioughts in Prose and Rhyme, of the polution of sin. Speaking from an ortho- dox standpoint, one application of the blood which was shed on Calvary for the remission of sin is sufficient to kill the disease and wash away every stain. However, after the malady has been re- moved, there must be no turning back, there must be a continual pressing forward and a continual warfare waged against the enemy of souls. There is a pathway in which all christians should walk, there is a race to be run and only those who endure to the end shall receive the prize. Whether the first or the second theory is correct, nearly all christian denominations hold forth the most flat- tering offers to induce the children of men to start on that journey along the road that leads to the Golden Gate which admits pilgrims to the celestial city. The journey of life is of the highest moment to wayfarers here below and is fraught with many dangers, but when riding on the train of which the Great Law Giver is the Conductor, so long as we obey the rules and regulations by him established, there is no danger. If we follow the precepts laid down by Him we shall not be side-tracked, our train will not be ditched, quarantine will not be enforced, but we shall have a free passage to the heavenly kingdom and be admitted to its comforts ^nd its joys when we arrive at the Golden Gate. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 141 a All aboard !*' the Conductor invitingly cries; ''Aboard !'' for the bright, Golden Gate; This train, well equipped for a trip to the skies, Leaves daily, nor ever is late. The souls which it carries are justified men, Who travel through storm and through calm ; Its running time schedule surpasses our ken — *Tis sealed by the blood of the Lamb. It travels broad plains, passes beautiful scenes, Prepared by the owner for you ; And if you are faithful, no cloud intervenes, To hide the Conductor from view. The guide on this road,is the Bible of old. Which gives neither stop nor delay;; In the simplest form, the sweet story is told — Its watchword, ''Unceasingly pray.*' The engine is run by a great Engineer, Who worked out a soul-saving plan; Unto Him the lost souls of sinners were dear. The saving of vile, wicked man. He handles the lever with wisdom and care, Tis pleasant to ride on His train; The traveler who journeys need never despair - Was cleasing blood offered in vain? 142 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, The trip which you take on this wonderful road, Through repentance is boundless and free; Hear you the sweet voice from the Master 's abode, Sweetly calling to you and to me ! Oh, poor, fallen mortal, accept the reward The Conductor is longing to give; 'T would fill you with grief, if you were debarred From the heavenly city to live. This train carries passengers safe to the shore Of a country surpassingly fair, Where trouble and sorrow torment us no more. Where cometh not sickness nor care. Oh, sinner, lost sinner, get on to the cars, And journey with Christ to the end; No accident troubles, nor temptation mars, With Him, your Conductor and Friend. Behold the bright light which shines on the portal. Held out by a dear, loving hand ; It spreads its bright beams to light thee, 0, mortal. To the joys of that heavenly land. We draw near the city^ we see the broad street. We view the Conductor's estate; Safe home He has brought us, we fall at His feet. As we sweep through the bright, Golden Gate! Our Count ry*s Flag 'SDhE standard English flag was used by the American Colonies in their early days. After- wards various flags were displayed, it being suffi- cient if ground and cross differed. Now and then a pine tree or a hemisphere was figured in the upper left hand quarter of the cross, and one flag had only the tree for a symbol. The revolution brought in many devices for flags and banners, bearing mottoes more or less defiant of the British Government. The earliest vessels sailing under Washington's authority displayed the pine tree flag. Some privateers, however, adopted a device consisting of a mailed hand grasping a bundle of thirteen arrows. January 2, 1776, Washington displayed a flag consisting of thirteen stripes of red and white, with the union jack in place of the stars, the stripes being emblematic of the union of the thirteen Colonies against British oppression. The rattle-snake flag was often used, the snake being coiled to strike, with the motto, ^^ Don't tread on me. ' ' The snake 's rattles generally num- bered thirteen. The first official action taken with regard to a national flag was June 14, 1777, when 144 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. the Continental Congress passed a resolution, ^^That the flag of the thirteen United States be thirteen stripes, alternate red and white ; that the Union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, rep- resenting a new constellation/' There has been much controversy over the origin of this design, but now a majority of writers consider it to have been suggested by the coat-of-arms of the Wash- ington family, which contained both the stars and the stripes. Paul Jones claimed to be the first to raise the new flag over a naval vessel. January 13, 1794, Vermont and Kentucky having been ad- mitted to the Union two or three years previous. Congress enacted, ^^That from and after the first day of May, 1795, the flag of the United States be fifteen stripes, and the union be fifteen stars, ' ' the intention being apparently to add both a stripe and a star for each new state admitted. In 1818, the number of states having increased to twenty. Congress enacted that the number of stripes be reduced to thirteen, to typify the original thirteen states; that the number of stars be increased to twenty; and that, ^^on the admission of each new state into the Union, one star be added to the union of the flag, and that such addition shall take effect on the Fourth of July next succeeding such admission. ' ' Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 145 Oh, proudly wave our country ^s flag, For where it waves there freedom lives ; Its graceful folds unfurl for all, And freedom from oppression gives. Long may it float o 'er land and sea, Till all the nations of the earth Shall greet it as a loyal friend. And praise the land which gave it birth. May its broad stripes bring happiness To our possessions o'er the sea; It's influence o'er the world be felt. Till nations shall indeed be free. Shine on, shine on, each radiant star. Let all the world behold your light, Till each untutored man shall know. You banish ignorance and night. From Philippino's torrid zone. To bleak Alaska's frozen shore. May war's alarms remain unknown, And clash of arms be heard no more. May truth and righteousness prevail. Where'er ^'Old Glory" is unfurled. No hand its sacred folds assail. Which offer friendship to the world. The Battle of Manila ^ SHOET time after war was declared between this country and Spain, Commodore Dewey, who was in command of the American squadron, re- ceived instruction from his government to attack and destroy the Spanish fleet wherever found. On the 29th of April, 1898, Dewey steamed away from the Chinese coast, and the following day anchored in Subig Bay, on the coast of Luzon, about thirty miles from Manila. That night he followed the shore line, and about midnight passed through the channel into Manila harbor. The next day, Sun- day, May 1st, between four and ^ve o 'clock in the morning, the American squadron headed for the Spanish position. When the Spaniards viewed the situation, at the dawn of that lovely Sabbath morning, their surprise can be more easily imag- ined than described; but, while they were filled with wonder, surprise and consternation, they courageously prepared to meet the crisis which had so suddenly presented itself. The greatest enthusiasm prevailed among Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 147 the American sailors, and with prolonged shouts of '^Eemember the Maine'' the attack was begun. From the beginning of the conflict, the superior marksmanship of the Americans was noticeable, while the opposite was true of the Spanish, for, although their guns were well served, they were not so well aimed. The battle was of short dura- tion. The Reina Christina, which had taken the lead of the Spanish fleet, received a shot which caused her to explode and catch fire, and a short time afterwards every one of the Spanish vessels was driven ashore and destroyed. In one respect this was one of the most remarkable naval battles known to history, for while hundreds of the Span- iards were wounded, killed or drowned, not one American lost his life. Night cast her sable mantle o'er the scene, The rippling waters murmured in the bay ; The drowsy watchman saw no moonlight sheen Eeflected on the waters far away. His thoughts had turned from bloody strife and war. Back to his peaceful home in sunny Spain ; And as he looked with steadfast gaze afar, In fancy he had wandered home again. 148 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. His thoughts reverted to the ones he loved, A wife and children or a sweetheart true; In darkest midnight hour his soul was moved, And silent tears fell as the evening dew. This lonely sentinel in reverie was lost, Nor could he well those pleasant dreams forego, So on he dreamed, unmindful of the cost, Unmindful of the coming foreign foe. When the shades of night had disappeared. And morning o'er the waters brightly spread, A mighty fleet into the bay had veered. By the ship Olympia onward led. The cannon's warning from the fortress rolled; Each Spanish heart is filled with wild surprise. Yet out they sail to meet their f oemen bold. And for his country each one bravely dies. Brave men must now no longer dream of love. Their duty now to kill and not to save; No longer now the pure and spotless dove Of peace shall hover o'er the sailor brave. Eelentless passion in each heart is rife. Every kindly thought has passed away; Men now must struggle in a deadly strife, Their fellowmen to overcome and slay. Thoughts in Prose mid Rhyme. 149 The fortress guns ring out a warning peal, The Spanish ships line up in bold array; Columbia's answer comes from mouths of steel, The battle opens with the opening day. The great combatants now are face to face, Each striving the advantage to obtain, Each working for the most strategic place, Unmindful of the hundreds who are slain. The battle rages and the fitful moans Of heroes wounded, fill the balmy air; The cannon's roar, the sailor's dying groans. Break rudely on that Sabbath morning fair. The smoky clouds uplift. An awful sight Presents its horrors to the startled view; Well might the sun refuse to shed her light — The Spanish hosts the bloody deck bestrew. And yet the deadly missiles forth are hurled, The scene is lighted by destructive fire, Christina's flag in lurid light is furled — This noble ship becomes a funeral pyre. The Don Juan, riddled by a deadly shot. Sent by a gunner whose eyesight is true. Goes to the bottom, there to be forgot. While rousing cheers break from the boys in blue. 150 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, The forts are silenced, and the Spanish fleet, With hundreds of that gallant Spanish crew That boldly went, Columbia's ships to meet, Have disappeared as does the morning dew. Where now the proud and vaunting Spanish host ? Where now their naval strength and armies brave ? The fickle goddess frowns and all is lost — No boasted chivalry the day can save. Spain's mighty fleet is sunk beneath the wave. Her proud flotilla wrecked upon the sea; A host of Spaniards finds a watery grave, And Dewey wins a glorious victory. The God of battles is our strength and guide. We fight to set a stricken nation free. And no ill fortune shall our cause betide — Only through blood is purchased liberty. The Veteran's Dream UXUhEN the civil war broke out in the United States, a young attorney-at-law, who had more time to devote to his country than he had briefs on which to practice law, when President Lincoln made his first call for troops to put down the re- bellion, was among the first to volunteer. Patriot- ism prompted him to give five of the best years of his life in defense of his country's flag. After passing through various hardships, being wound- ed, and spending several months in Libby prison, when the war was ended he returned to his old home to associate once more with his friends of former days, and to commune again with those whom he fondly loved. Time, however — ^merci- less, ceaseless time — ^had wrought many changes. Before he left home, five years before, he stood beneath the shadow of the trees and told the story of his love to a beautiful young lady; and there beneath the moon's pale light, with nothing but the stars to listen to the whispered words, their troth was plighted, and their marriage was to oc- cur when he returned from the war. For a time, 152 Thoughts in Prose mid Rhyme, after his departure, they corresponded, and re- peatedly renewed the promises which were so sol- emnly given, as they stood together beneath the trees some months before. When he was thrown into prison, all communication ceased between them, and from that time till he returned home, they did not hear from each other. After his re- turn, learning that she on whom he had lavished the richness of his love was dead, and all that was left for him was a cold marble slab, pointing up- ward, suggestive of his loved one's home among the angels of light, he was broken-hearted, and lived only to mourn for her whom he had loved and lost. After a time he resumed the practice of law, but there were times when his mind became a blank to his immediate surroundings and he lived over again the days of his courtship and love. As he grew older, these aberrations of mind be- came more noticeable, and during the closing years of his life he was pronounced, on that particular subject, harmlessly insane. During these periods he walked again with his loved one, and she ap- peared to him in his hours of solitude, and in his fitful fancy they held sweet communion. For sev- eral years prior to his death he was a recluse, his only companion, so far as mortals knew, being his faithful dog ; and apparently his only comfort was his pipe, which he constantly smoked. One day Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 153 his neighbors noticed that he was not around his cottage home as usual, and upon investigation, with his pipe in his hands, his faithful dog by his side, he was found sitting in his chair— dead. He had, gone to join the spirit of his loved one, and wander with her on the banks of the stream that flows by the everlasting city. As the old man sat in his easy chair, And smoked his pipe of clay. The face of a loved one, young and fair, Appeared to him in the moving air, As he blew the wreaths away. 'Twas the face of a maiden pure and bright, Wreathed in a heavenly smile; With hair as dark as the darkest night. With eyes that shone as the morning light, But her smile was sad the while. As this image caught the old man's eye. He looked with a startled gaze. Then backward sank with a broken sigh — He knew that his sweetheart hovered nigh — And it filled him with amaze. 154 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, Then the old man's thoughts went back apace, To the times of long ago, And he conjured up the time and place, When he gazed with rapture on that face. For the old man loved her so ! Oh swiftly have fled the passing years. But the memory lingers there, Throught buoyant hopes and saddening fears. The image of a loved one, lost, appears — The face of a maiden fair. That heavenly picture comes again. As a vision from above; The joy of that time shall ever remain. When wooing, he wooed her not in vain. When he won that maiden's love. The angel of death went out to reap. His sickle was sharp and bright; Her lover was left alone to weep. The maiden sank in an endless sleep ^nd woke in the realms of light. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 155 All through life like a beautiful dream, In the midst of pain and strife, A brilliant ray of hope would seem To come to him as- a joyous beam, To cheer that old man's life. The old man sits in his great arm chair, The smoke rings flitting away; His wrinkled brow is marked with care. But the image of his sweetheart, fair^ Eemains for ever and aye. The old man sits in his easy chair, A lifeless piece of clay ; The smoke of his pipe flecks not the air. Nor dreams he now of a sweetheart fair- His spirit has flown away. His soul has gone to a mystic shore, Away from this world of care; His sorrows and troubles all are o'er, He'll part from that image never more, From that sainted maiden fair^ The Nation's Dead (JpVERY nation can point with pride, mingled with sorrow, to the monuments erected to their country's dead, marking the final resting place of those who have died in battle, whose loyalty impelled them to protect their families and theit homes, and die in defence of their country's flag. War is a terrible thing, and nothing more appall- ing can come to a nation than to be at war with another, or to be engaged in internescine strife. One of our wisest men, well informed by practi- cal experience on the subject, compared war to the infernal regions, saying: ^'War is hell"; and this is about as nearly correct as any definition which can be given of such a dreadful calamity. Property destroyed, the country laid waste, beau- tiful homes devastated, firesides rendered deso- late, loved ones slain — all because difficulties be- tween nations cannot be settled without bloodshed and death. To contemplate anything so uncivil- ized causes thinking people to shudder for the very horror of it, and urges them to hope and pray that the time will speedily come when all Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 157 international disputes will be settled by arbitra- tion — ^^when men their swords to plow shares beat, to pruning hooks their spears/' and when war shall be known no more. Until that time comes it is right and proper that we pay homage to the nation's dead, and honor and respect the memory of those who have fallen in their coun- try's cause. A man may be mistaken as to his duty, or he may fight and die for a principle which he believes to be right, but which may not be fair and just ; but he is none the less deserving of credit and appreciation, so let us^ as citizens of one great country, in future do honor alike to the blue and the gray, believing that both thought their cause to be just. (This poem was written for the occasion, and read at Ft. McPherson Na- tional Cemetery.) With faces to the summer sky upturned, The country's brave rest in an endless sleep; The nation's dead are by the living mourned, While o'er their graves the tender-hearted weep. No more by them the rolling drum is heard, No more by them the bugle's clarion blast; Their souls no more by martial music stirred — The scenes of battle are forever past. 158 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. Many are the loved ones slumbering here, Who gallantly have met their country's foes, Whose loyal hearts have never quaked with fear, Slumbering now in undisturbed repose. The silent grave enfolds them to her breast. The springing grass becomes their funeral pall ; They gently slumber in an endless rest — No more they answer to the nation's call. On many graves is marked the word, *^ Un- known, ' ' Yet where they rest is consecrated ground; Perchance a mother's wand 'ring, wayward son. Within these walls a resting-place has found. Though none can tell of them, nor whence they came, Nor who they are, nor what they once had been. Though each head-stone is found without a name. Yet by the living are their graves kept green. Each year we on their graves the flowers strew, And weep with those who over loved ones weep; Each year the living with their tears bedew Death's chambers, where these gallant heroes sleep. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 159 For acts of bravery done we homage pay, To strangers, and to those we fondly love, Thus we commemorate each Decoration Day, Till we shall meet them in the realms above. The cycling years forever roll away. The nation's dead awaken never more; No more they stand in battle's stern array. No more they hear the cannon 't deafening roar. Children may prattle o'er each grassy mound, Yet on they slumber, lying side by side ; Night spreads her sable mantle all around. They know the dawn which has no even- tide. Hobsons Choice XT HE 19th of May, 1898, the Spanish fleet, under the command of Admiral Cervera, entered the placid waters of Santiago de Cuba, and there was blockaded by the United States battleships. Ad- miral Sampson, with the other officers of the American fleet, formulated a plan whereby the Spanish could be prevented from escaping from the trap of their own setting. The scheme was to so obstruct the narrow passage of the harbor that ingress and egress would be impossible. In order to accomplish this they resolved to sink an old and heavy ship, called the Merrimac, across the channel, so that the Spanish would be effect- ually prevented from escaping from the pen in which they found themselves, and at the entrance to which such a formidable guard was stationed. The 3rd day of June the assistant naval construc- tor, Richard P. Hobson, volunteered to do the re- quired work, and, with a detachment of seven brave fellows like himself, performed that daring exploit, which so greatly aroused the enthusiasm of his countrymen. They took the Merrimac un- der the fire of both Spanish batteries and fleet Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 161 into the narrow passage of the harbor, and by the use of torpedoes sunk her almost crosswise in the channel. The fact that the undertaking was not effectual did not mar the heroism of Hob- son and the brave fellows who undertook such a dangerous task. After they had sunk the old vessel they pulled away in a boat, signaled the Spanish officers, and were captured without the loss of one man! It hes bin told an' told ag'in The chap who hes the pluck, He will succeed in gittin' thar, By courage more nor luck. Chaps hitherto not known to fame, Hev conquered crime an' wrong — The worl' ov them hes heroes made, Their praises sung in song. The ridin' ov the Light Brigade Made loyal hearts tu swell— Some one blundered, yet they rode Inter the mouth of hell. With Nolan through the jaws ov death, They charged as Britons do. An' with their latest, gasping breath. Proved to their country true. 162 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. You hev hearn about John Maynard Who bravely held the wheel, Until thet blazin' boat, ill-starred, Grated her burnin' keel Upon the land, an' each scared soul Who stood upon the deck Was filled with joy to reach a goal Safe from the burnin' wreck. But when it comes to gallant acts. When death is lurkin' near. Here air some brave an' darin' deeds Which fill our hearts with cheer; They show thet Yankees hev the pluck To do brave, darin' deeds. An' though you call it fate or luck. The Yankee boy succeeds. It was Sampson's bold intention. In war 'twere not a sin, Through well-planned intervention, To shut the Spanish in. So Sampson called for darin' men To act with him thet day. To take the ol' ship, Merrimac, An' sink her in the bay. Thoughts in Prose and Ehyme, 163 Eight darin' men air quickly found, All ov 'em young in years, Who feared not to be shot or drowned. Each ov 'em volunteers; They took the oV ship, Merrimac, An' sunk her in the bay. An' then the Spanish vessels lacked A chance to git away. I hev told this story simply, In a modest, truthful way, How the boys were crowned with glory At ol' Santiago bay; So runnin' through the years ov time. All with united voice. Will sing ov this brave deed in rhyme, An' tell ov Hobson's choice. ^Remember the Maine UiU HEN the rebellion broke out in Cuba against Spanish authority in that island, it was natural that Americans should sympathize with those who were fighting for independence, and render some assistance to the Cuban cause. This and various other causes brought about a feeling of extreme dislike to Spain and her dominion in the West Indies. This feeling of dissatisfaction with Spanish dominion in Cuba was precipitated into an open rupture through the destruction of the Maine, one of the favorite battleships of the United States navy. The Maine had entered the harbor of Havana as the battleship of a friendly nation, but from her first appearance was looked upon by the Spaniards with feelings of distrust and prejudice. Her presence in the harbor was denounced in unmeasured terms, the Spanish say- ing the Maine was sent to taunt them, and if pos- sible, get them to commit some overt act which would give the United States the desired pretext to assist the Cubans in their struggle against Spanish authority. On the evening of the 15th Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme 165 of February, 1898, while the Maine was peace- fully riding at anchor in the harbor of Havana, a dreadful explosion occurred, the battleship was a total wreck, and 266 American seamen went down to instant death. When the news of the awful catastrophe was flashed over the wires, it produced the greatest sensation in the United States, and the anger of the people knew no bounds. The cry for satisfaction went up from every state in the Union, and the people demand- ed of the President that war be instantly de- clared. Shortly after this terrible disaster oc- curred, war was declared, and the battle-cry of *^ Remember the Maine'' was echoed and re- echoed until it rang throughout the length and breadth of the land, and became our war-cry on land and sea. To the sounding of the bugle, The rolling of the drum. From New York to California Our gallant boys have come; They are bravely speeding forward On each succeeding train. To wreck vengeance on the Spaniards For wrecking of the Maine. 166 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. With their banners proudly flying They take the tented field; Cuba's wrongs the written watchword On every burnished shield; They fight not that we may possess One Cuban hill or plain, But to avenge our sailor lads Who perished on the Maine. As in the days of Washington, Men struggled to be free, And drove the proud oppressor To his home across the sea, So the Cubans ask for freedom. Nor shall they ask in vain, For we shall fight and overcome The wreckers of the Maine. The god of battles shall adjudge The cause for which we fight. To be the cause of those oppressed. Of freedom and of right ; So he will aid our gallant boys The victory to obtain, And drive from Cuba's stricken shores The wreckers of the Maine. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 167 Our battleship and cruisers, too, Shall scour the raging seas, Till every ship with tyrant's flag From western waters flees ; Till our army and our navy Tear down the flag of Spain — Eaise Cuba's flag of freedom In honor of the Maine. We intend to drive the tyrant from The western hemisphere. God grant that shouts of victory May echo far and near. So that when the war is over. And the boys come home again, Oujr sailors then shall be avenged Who perished on the Maine. T)ewey an' the German /^ SHORT time after Dewey received instruc- tions from his government to find the Spanish fleet and destroy it wherever found, the gallant admiral was forming the acquaintance and get- ting on terms of the closest intimacy with the inhabitants of Manila bay. During his occupan- cy of those waters, a German ship undertook to land breadstuff s and other articles for the benefit of the Spanish army. Admiral Dewey objected to the operation which the Kaiser's ship was endeavoring to bring to a successful termination, and remonstrated with the commander on the course being pursued. The captain of the Ger- man vessel felt quite indignant that he should be interfered with in such peremptory manner, and intimated that he would land his cargo in the harbor at Manila whether the American admiral was, or was not, willing. He also intimated that, if necessary, he would use his guns to accomplish what he had undertaken and which he so ardently desired to complete. However, the stern words Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 169 of the American admiral, and his warlike atti- tude very quickly put a quietus on any attempt by the German ship to land her cargo; and in a measure opened the eyes of the world to the fact that it was dangerous to trifle with Uncle Sam. Yew hev hearn ov Dewey, ain't yew, Who made a winnin' fight Agin the combined Spanish fleet By airly mornin' light! Yew hev hearn ov Dewey, ain't yew. Who stole into the bay. An' slaughtered ov the Spaniards In a most inspirin' way? Yew hev hearn ov Dewey, ain't yew. Who whipped the gosh-darn-lot An' consigned 'em to the bottom. There to petrify an' rot? Yew hev hearn ov Dewey, ain't yew. Who sank the Spanish fleet. And was ready when the time came Another fleet to meet! 170 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. Wal this same feller, Dewey, saw A German t'other day Who wished to tote some bread-stuffs To the Spaniards in the bay; Our Admiral sed he musn't go, The German sed he would. But Dewey smiled and blandly sed, ^^He didn't think he could." The German sed he'd use his guns To git the bread-stuffs in; ^'Two kin play at that air game," Sed Dewey with a grin. The German sed, ^^Off dose pread sdoffs Do harbor ich should pring, Und dot oldt fellow goes for mich. He wouldn't Dewey ding." The German took his bread-stuffs off, To land he didn't try, Fer Dewey sed he better not ^ An' wunk his other eye. An' so this trifflin' trouble came Quite quickly to an end. But Dewey he was gol-darned quick Our honor to defend. Thoughts in Prose amd Rhyme. 171 He wanted no blamed foolishness Where he was wont to be, For if there was he'd send 'em to The bottom ov the sea. So from this story warnin' take, Don't be a foolish clam, An' don't be mixin' in a row Agin ol' Uncle Sam. The Soldier "Boy's Death iJlt/ ANY a lock of hair, treasured by loving moth- er, sister, wife or friend, is held sacred because it belonged to a dear one who has passed to the great beyond. Many a triffling keepsake, the in- trinsic value of which is small, could not be bought for a hundred times its real value, because it once belonged to some one greatly beloved, and is held as a remembrancer of that one who has tak- en the long, lone journey to the other shore. Especially are these little trinkets preserved and treasured, when one of our friends bids us good- bye in perfect health, hurries away on some im- portant mission, but returns not again to greet us. In time of national danger, when the loyal and the brave are called to defend our country's honor and her flag, if one of our dear ones joins the ranks and departs to die on the battle field, or worse, to succumb to disease in some foreign clime, every little keepsake is held above price, because it reminds us of the one who has gone. While the war with Spain was of short duration, ^ji4 our losses were comparatively small, yet we Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 173 mourn many dear ones whose places are now va- cant in many an American home; and many a mother 's tears silently fall as she views the sacred mementoes of a son who died for his country. Much is said and written about the glory of dying for one's country, but only those who have suf- fered from hardship, privation, sickness and bat- tle, can fully appreciate how dearly the glory is bought. Only those who have been actual partic- ipants in its horrors, can fully understand the awful calamities of war. It is a condition which only the more brutal enjoy, and one, too, which no peace-loving citizen can contemplate without a feeling of horror. It is ardently hoped the time will soon come when men shall learn war no more, but when all international difficulties shall be settled without recourse to arms. 'Tis nothing but a lock of hair. Clipped from a youthful head. And yet it tells of one beloved, Now numbered with the dead. It speaks of one whose life went out Upon the tented field. Who for his love of liberty, A love divine revealed. 174 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, In answer to his country's call, With patriotic zeal, He bade farewell to friends and home, Nor heeded love's appeal To stay with those dear to his heart — Such pleasure he denied — With tearful eyes but loyal soul. He went, and bravely died. Tho' in his dire distress and need. When fever racked his brain. He called for them and longed to hear Their voices once again ; No mother's loving touch was his. No sister's fond caress; No brother's kindly voice to cheer, No father's prayer to bless. He died and though we mourn his loss, Joy comes through bitter tears; We hear the Master's voice which speaks, And drives away our fears. It says: **For freedom's cause let none The soldier's love deride; I loved a stricken sin-cursed world. And for that world I died." Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 175 Above his grave a pure, white shaft Points to the skies above, A fitting emblem to proclaim. His patriotic love. He loved his country and for her His youthful life was given; He crossed the great divide alone, But waits for us in heaven. Oh, proudly wave our country's flag. Above the soldier's grave! Let all the living homage pay. To loyal hearts, and brave. Let coming generations sing Their paeans loud and long. And to the bravery of our sons, Break forth in joyous song. The Soldier's Return iKUHEN war with its concomitant evils comes to a nation, there is always more or less of excitement. The activity displayed in the various industries more immediately effected, the movement of armed men to the scene of the conflict, the raising of companies in different localities, the departure of the troops, the farewells then spoken, all serve to quicken the pulse and string up our nerves to the very highest tension. But the home-coming is the time when our feelings are wrought up to the very highest point of expectancy. After the war is over, when peace has been declared, when the boys are mustered out of service, when the government no longer has need of them, when they are returning to resume their accustomed voca- tions our hearts are filled with an eager longing to welcome those home again who have been de- fending the principles of freedom and right, and fighting for the down-trodden and the oppressed. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 111 It is a grand sight to watch the great review, to watch the boys marching past, to see the banners streaming in the wind, to note the flags waving, and to hear the shouts of welcome which come from hundreds of throats as company after com- pany moves past with martial tread. But with it all there comes a feeling of sadness, and tears course silently down our cheeks, for some have gone away from home, have left those they dearly loved, never more to return. They have fallen in defense of flag and home, and their mortal re- mains rest in the hallowed grave of the soldier. There in death's narrow prison cell they lonely lie. No kindly hand scatters flowers on their grave, no mother bends over the grassy mound to weep, no friend is there to drop a kindly tear, but when the dead shall rise, these shall come forth to their reward. Echoing notes are sadly falling Over distant hill and plain. Each with regretful cadence calling, ^'Will the boys come home again Will we extend to each a greeting. When the boys come home to stay? Yes, there will be a happy meeting, On some future, joyous day. 178 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, Some of the boys are homeward wending, We shall meet them face to face; Mothers with their arms extending, Wait to clasp in fond embrace. Some far across the ocean, sighing For their loved ones once again; Some far in Chickamanga dying. Some are numbered with the slain. Our tears with others' tears are blending. Mourning for the loyal brave; Those who died their flag defending. Those who found a soldier's grave. The shadows from our hearts are falling, Shouts are ringing o'er the plain; The bugle blast is gladly calling: ^'Soldier boys are home again." Behold ^^Old Glory" proudly Waving, As each company moves along; Victory on each banner blazing- All the air is rich with song. The guns are booming, bells are ringing. Uncle Sam in gala dress. Friendship and joy to Cuba bringing — Peace has come to cheer and bless. )3Dn the 26th day of April, 1898, the proclama- tion of war, between the United States and Spain, was formally issued by the United States govern- ment; and on the 27th of April the batteries of Matanzas were bombarded by Admiral Sampson's flagship, the New York, one or two other ships par- ticipating in the attack. At this time, lying in Mirs Bay, on the Chinese coast, north of Hong Kong, was the Pacific squadron of the United States, under the command of Commodore George Dewey. He had been informed by cable of the progress of events in the United States, and he had his fleet in readiness when the declaration of war was issued. Under the rules of international law, he was notified by the Chinese authorities to depart from neutral waters within forty-eight hours. With everything in readiness for the emergency of war, he promptly obeyed the man- date; and was next heard of when he tried con- clusions with Admiral de Montojo's Spanish fleet, 180 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. wliich was also in Pacific waters, its business in that part of the world being the protection of the Philippine Islands. Dewey had received instruc- tions from his government to find the Spanish fleet and to destroy it wherever found. How well he obeyed his instructions, and how literally and completely Montojo's fleet was destroyed, are im- portant facts in United States history. On that — to the Spaniards — fateful Sunday morning. May 1st, the two fleets met in Manila Bay, and when this great naval engagement ended, there was but one, of the two fleets, in existence and that belonged to the United States. The other had been blown to pieces, burned and destroyed. It certainly was a Dewey morning and the Spaniards met with a very Dewey reception. It was Dewey on thet mornin' In the Dewey month ov May, When Dewey with his battleships Sailed up thet Dewey bay. When the sun ris in its splendor On thet Dewey horizon, Dewey's decks were cleared fer action To Dewey Spanish Don. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 181 When the Spanish saw thet Dewey With Dewey's boys in blue, Was in line ov battle formin' To Dewey thing or two, They got ready fer the fightin', But they didn't Dewey thing Fer Dewey's guns on battlements Made Dewey bullets ring. So Dewey hurled the Spanish Dons Inter the Dewey wave. An' hundreds ov their fightin' men Now fill a Dewey grave. They got a Dewey breakfast there, That made their stomachs ache. Which taught them Admiral Dewey Was not a Dewey fake. Now floatin' o'er the battlements The Dewey flag is seen, Unfurlin' from a Spanish staff Where Spanish flag hed bin. So Dewey's flag is flyin' high, His ships are in the bay, On account ov Dewey's battle Thet Dewey month ov May. 182 Thoughts in Prose cmd Rhyme, With Dewey in tlie harbor, boys, Insurgents in the field, The Spanish honored Dewey when Their forces hed to yield. 'Twas too Dewey fer the Spaniards, The Philippines they quit — It was Dewey on thet mornin' — It's very Dewey yit. Then hurrah for Admiral Dewey! We'll have a Dewey time! We will tell ov Dewey's battle In very Dewey ryhme. We will sing ov Admiral Dewey, By Dewey mornin' light, An' name our children Dewey, To remember Dewey's fight. The Blue and Gray T WAS but natural that the war of secession, in which several of the States attempted to disinte- grate this Union and establish the Southern Con- federacy, should engender feelings of animosity between North and South which time alone could heal. Although these feelings have in a great measure died out, and a more friendly spirit now predominates, yet in the hearts of some of the more radical who participated in that aWful and greatly to be deplored struggle, there yet exists a tendency to cling to old prejudices which long since should have been forgotten. It may be, however, that only the passing away of those who took part in that great internescine conflict, will completely remove the last vestige of bitterness which has controlled so many who fought for or against the Union as their course agreed with their teachings and their principles. The time, however, has come when all hatred should be bur- ied, when all prejudice should be forgotten, and when North and South should move forward as one people with the same interests, the same de- sires, and be actuated by feelings of loyalty and 184 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. patriotism which should characterize a united and satisfied people. It is a source of great gratifica- tion to note that the veterans who were engaged on either side in that memorable struggle meet together as friends and brothers and discuss the incidents of the war in a manner, and in that friendly spirit, which indicates that, at least, there has been a joining of hands and a union of hearts between the combatants of that great civil war. In order to show respect for their courageous foes, Union men strew flowers on the Southern soldier's grave; and the people of the South decorate the graves of Northern men who lost their lives in the sunny South. The tears of North and South are mingled together and, as they moisten the last resting place of the Nation's dead, they wash away all enmity from the hearts of a generous people, and unite in the bonds of friendship and love, the Blue and the Gray. A soldier stood with head bowed down Beside a grassy grave; And tears unbidden filled his eyes, Shed for the fallen brave. A soldier slept beneath the sod, On which that hero stood. Who for the cause he loved the best, Had shed his precious blood. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 185 He laid a bunch of roses white Upon the resting place Of him who died for principle, Then upward turned his face And said : ' ' Though I may not fully know The Lord's eternal plan, I know the soldier of the South Is still my brother man. What though he wore a suit of gray. And I a dress of blue ; What tho ' in different ranks we fought, Each to his teachings true; I censure not my brother — dead. But in this sacred hour. Upon his final resting place, I place a milk-white flower. Pure emblem of a lasting love Which fills each loyal heart; A pledge that former bitterness Shall from my soul depart. I pledge myself and comrades, dear, By Him who rules above, That for the South we harbor not A thought but that of love/' 186 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. I saw this soldier sadly turn, And slowly walk away; And as he went, a snmbeam bright, Struck where the flower lay ; With loving light it kissed the rose, And by its gentle ray, It sealed the bond of friendship true. Between the Blue and Gray. We live not fot outselves alone," To ^my JrOR more than thirty years the lady who is the subject of this poem has been the bosom compan- ion and help-meet of the writer, and, unless she turns him adrift, he expects to live with her the balance of his days. During all these years, as husband and wife, we have had our periods of prosperity and our seasons of adversity; joys and sorrows have been our portion; death has called at our home and carried away three budding flow- ers for a time intrusted to our care ; the responsi- bility of rearing a large family has rested upon us ; pleasures and griefs we have mutually shared, and during that time, with its changing scenes, we have been comparatively happy. She has been a true, loving, devoted woman of kindly disposition and tender heart, ever ready to devote her ener- gies to the happiness of others. Sometimes the rolling pin may have entered into our domestic discussions, and the broom made some sweeping impressions, but these trifling diversions have only served to strengthen the ties which bound us 188 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, together so many years ago. Now, that we are passing down the western slope, the fervid fancies of youth have given way to calm reflection, and some light missile hurled with woman's unerring aim, has taken the place of her former arguments to enforce domestic tranquility. Jokes aside, deep in his heart, in so far as the happiness of married life is concerned, the author feels he has been blessed much above his deserts, and if it is so ordered that he should first be called to stem the chilly waters, his ardent desire is that she whom he has always been proud to call ^^wife'' may draw near with him to the river 's brink, and when dissolution comes, her gentle, loving hands may close his weary eyes, and her kiss be the last im- printed on his lifeless lips. The shades of night were falling fast, And o'er the earth in colors gray, Dame twilight had her mantle cast. As gently closed departing day; The evening songsters in the vale. The ^'Whip-poor-will," in plaintive tone, Proclaimed alike o'er hill and dale: ''We live not for ourselves alone." Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 189 When with the one I fondly loved, Dear Amy, gentle, pure and kind, I to the beck'ning forest moved. Nor sighed to leave the world behind ; Now walking 'neath the shady trees. Her hand clasped fondly in my own, This whisper floated on the breeze, *^We live not for ourselves alone." Deeply we pondered o'er the sound, Borne gently on the evening air; Seek as we would, above, around. No human form seemed lurking there; So in that quiet even-tide, I said to her in love's fond tone, ^^Be mine." In answer Amy sighed, ^^We live not for ourselves alone." The years have fled, and creeping age Has marked the wrinkles on her face ; But all along life's varied page, I read her loveliness and grace ; Her hair has turned to silvery white. Her buoyant step more feeble grown; In her this motto meets my sight : "We live not for ourselves alone." 190 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. The journey soon for us will end, The evening of our life draws near; To nature 's stern decree we bend, And kiss the rod without a fear ; A few more fleeting years at most, And death will claim us for his own. May these words be our loudest boast : **We lived not for ourselves alone." Blanche of Innisvah aIUHERE are a few persons, happily for them, who have escaped the loss of a loved one. A darling babe, a romping boy, a sweet-faced little girl, a loving daughter, a noble son, an affectionate wife, a gentle mother, a kind father, a sweetheart or a friend, has left us, and in our hearts is a great want, which never can be supplied, an aching void which can never be filled. In our hearts we have erected a monument to denote the loss, and we cannot afford to upturn the marble shaft, en- graven with our darling's name, and have a usurper fill the place sacred to the departed. In the innermost recesses of our hearts is enshrined the memory of one whom we have loved and lost, and we do not intend to tear away the curtain, or draw back its folds, to permit the unhallowed, unsympathetic gaze of the stranger to view the grave of our buried hopes. The poet says : ^ ' 'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.'' Truer words were never spoken, for he who has never loved has never lived; he 192 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, who has never been actuated by the divine passion, knows little of human joy, and cannot appreciate the tenderness and charity of him who has been lifted heavenward by the hope of a love returned for true love lavishly bestowed, nor can he under- stand the agony of soul experienced when that love is rejected. It is said, the heart once pierced by cupid's shaft, will heal and bleed again. This may be, and probably is, true ; but though the heart may heal and accept other love, yet often, when in a reminiscent mood, we revert to days long past, to love long gone. We live over again the sunlight of our love, the midnight darkness of our loss and sorrow. As we ponder over the past, there surges up in our souls the old, old pain, and we hear the mournful words : ^ ^ The saddest words of tongue or pen are these: *It might have been, it might have been.^ '' Bleak winter with its cold and snow. Its wind with mournful sound. Appears my inmost thoughts to know, And coldly stealing 'round My heart, a dirge of sadness sings — A moaning, doleful wail, Whose mourning cadence, memories brings Of Blanche of Innisvale. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 193 The winter's snows will melt away, The frost will leave the earth; Dame Nature moves, without delay The Spring time has its birth. She comes with bulb, and bud, and leaf, And flowers to deck the dale ; But nothing can assuage my grief For Blanche of Innisvale. The summer with its ripening grain. And luscious fruit abounds To cheer my heart, but all in vain, A mournful cry resounds Within my soul, filled is my heart With a regretful wail. Which tells me I was forced to part From Blanche of Innisvale. The Autumn with its garnered sheaves. Its fading summer flowers. And yellow tinted, falling leaves. Makes bare the shady bowers. It shows decay and loss must be. Sad loss without avail. For who shall give her back to me — My Blanche of Innisvale? 194 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, The changing seasons come and go- Sweet hope buoys up my soul — A thought steals o'er my fancy, slow, Of long sought happy goal. Where with the one I fondly love. In some secluded dale, I shall forever live and move With Blanche of Innisvale. Oh, for these moments how I sigh ! And shall till latest breath Shall leave this tenement, and I Am cold and still in death. My restive spirit will not rest, I mourn without avail. And sigh for her I love the best. Dear Blanche of Innisvale. W^ Don*t Crowd VluHERE are some people in the world who, no matter how clear the way or how wide the road, are never satisfied unless they are crowding the other fellow. They will put themselves to great inconvenience to get a chance to give the other fel- low a shove, especially if he has been held down by adverse circumstances, or through some mis- take in life, has been compelled to go back to the starting point and begin the race over again. In most of us, the brute nature seems to assert itself on the slightest provocation, and the moment this brute nature gains the ascendency over us, we do exactly as do the brutes, puting forth a determined effort to destroy the weaker of our kind. He is but a miserable poltroon who will not accord to others the rights which he enjoys; and yet such people exist, who through the unfortunate turn of fortune's wheel, are placed in a position which they suppose gives them the right to abuse, with- out stint, those whose shoe latchets they are not worthy to unloosen. This is the kind of coward who treats his fellow-man as dogs treat the poor unfortunate hound which happens to fall under- 196 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, neath in the fight. Shun such as you would the polecat or the skunk, otherwise— my pen blushes as I write — ^you are in great danger of becoming odorized with a pernicious fluid similar to that used by these little animals as a weapon of defense, and so admirably imitated by the genus homo of the same family. This is a sad commentary on hu- manity ; but it is comforting to know that there are good, generous, noble people, the very salt of the earth, who are ever ready to assist the fallen, the helpless and the distressed. Don't alius be a schemin' round, nor violate the right, A studyin' an' contrivin' through restless day an' night. To obtain a mean advantage o' the helpless an' distressed. Or to grab the meagre pittance with which the poor is blessed. You may keep a crowdin' for'ard, an' boostin' all you can; But desist from shovin' sidewise agin the other man, Eememberin' as you alius should, this statement old an' true. That other fellers on the earth have rights as well as you. _ . , Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 197 You may be rich an' popular with thousands at command, But if you lack in kindness, or with hold the givin' hand. Though you speak with tongues o' angels, your language none surpass, You are like the tinklin' cymbal, or as the soundin' brass. If you occupy the temple o' learnin' an' o* fame. Don't attempt to crowd the climbers who strive to reach the same. Build up no envious barriers their upward course to stop. Never thinkin' o' the adage, '^ There's room upon the top." Don't be pushin' an' a crowdin' in a kind o' spite- ful way. For although you're up at present, you may fall some futur' day. This world is blamed onsartin' from startin' to the end. An' whether rich or whether poor, you alius need a friend. If you should lend a helpin' hand to those who need yer aid, Accordin' to the Word you'll be a hundred fold repaid ; So don't be selfish in your deeds, keep boostin' when you can. But don't be tryin' in the race to crowd the other man. Don't Kick ^HE average man's ability and determination to ^'kick'' is frequently remarkable and at all times amnsing, until it readies the point of dis- gust. Many persons drift into this pernicious habit, and become like the Irishman who said, as he was moving homeward in a high state of in- ebriation, ^^If Biddy has me supper ready, Oi'll whup her; if she hasn't it ready, Oi'll whup her; and Oi'll whup her anyhow." These people find fault for cause, they find fault without cause, and they find fault anyway. It makes no difference what the circumstances, or how pleasantly they are situated, they are not satisfied, and make it known by constantly finding fault and pouring into the ears of their neighbors and friends a history of all their difficulties and troubles. They are so accustomed to kicking that, to use a figure of speech, some of them stand around on one foot, holding the other in readiness for a vigorous swing on the slightest provocation. If such peo- Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 199 pie would go some place alone and do their kick- ing in solitude they could, in a great measure, be forgiven, but any such kindness to others is, to them an unknown quantity. In fact, many of them take extra trouble to find some person, blessed with that commodity w^ich made Job re- markable in his day and generation, and pour into his patient ears an account of their imagin- ary wrongs, until he is ready to faint by the way- side from sheer exhaustion; and the most ridic- ulous part of it is they never appear to notice or care how much they bore others with their tale of woes. Go to, go to, ye ^^ kickers.'' Tackle a mule 's ear, and come in contact with his pedal ap- pendages. I hev no kick comin', hev you! I git many a bump, 'tis true ; But most o' my so called troubles Is no thin' more nor less than bubbles. Which bust an' disappear in air, An' don't show up no more nowhere; So I take a fresh hold an' say, *^0r feller, keep pullin' away." 200 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, When things don't tote along jist right, I squar np my shoulders an' fight; I don't throw up the sponge, not I, An' sit down an' sniffle an' cry; No, sir-ee, I don't act that way; Here's my motto, ^^ Fight an* pray"; So 'tain't no kind o' use, you see, To talk about kickin' to me. Sometimes troubles is hard to bear ; I don't mean to say I don't care, 'Cause I do. It hurts me to find Some people is mean an' unkind; But I don't go to whine an' kick, Fur I think the chap is a brick, Who smiles an' has nuthin' to say When folks is cussin' him all day. I don't jist see why human natur' — Though I may learn the fact later — Should be so blamed full o' abuse. An' meanness an' sich. 'Tain't no use To be a gol-darn-skunk an' fuss An' swar' an' tear around an' cuss; 'Cause I know you don't gain nuthin' By bein' ornery an' cussin'. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 201 When things is goin' wrong with you, Keep movin' right ahead an' do The very best you can; don't quit An' hang yer head, an' hev a fit 0' the blues, or suthin as bad; But keep a stiff lip an' be glad That things is no worse nor they are — Hev yer nerve, brace up an' git thar. I hev no kick comin', but you May hev suthin' o' that to do; If you hev, git yer work in quick. Take out yer spite in one big kick; But jist listen to me when I say: ^'Here is my m/otto, ^ Fight an' Pray' "; So it ain't no kind o' use, you see. To talk about yer kickin to me. Makin* a Winn in* vLillHEN you hear a young man say: ''This world owes me a living/' you may make up your mind, if he is thoroughly imbued with this idea, until it is removed, he will never amount to anything. This world owes every one a living who strives after it, who works hard to get it; but it owes nothing to anyone who has not the will, the energy, the ambition to reach out after the opportunities afforded, to fasten on to them and to make the most out of them as they move in his direction. Probably one of the greatest barriers to success, which hundreds meet, is the desire to become rich or famous too soon. Be- coming wealthy suddenly does not happen, but in rare cases. Most men who have grown wealthy have done so through incessant labor and strict economy. The painter and the sculptor whose works to-day are eagerly sought and whose pic- tures and pieces sell for enormous sums, made many a worthless daub and carved many a use- less figure before reaching that stage of perfec- Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 203 tion which makes their works valuable. This is true in every avenue of life. If you wish to rank with the best in any craft, business or profession, you must put forth all your energy and back it up with perseverance in order to reach the goal of your ambition. While claiming to be an opti- mist, it is sometimes feared that many of the young people of to-day lack those staunch, rugged characteristics which enabled their forefathers to oversome difficulties before which the sons and daughters timidly shrink and feebly turn aside. Our sires were inured to many hardships of which we are ignorant, which fitted them to bear with alacrity the burdens of life under which we would sink and fall. With energy and persever- ance, however, the young people of the present are bound to succeed. You can never m)ake a winnin' by saunterin' around. An' you cannot leap to riches in one tremendous bound ; You hev got to keep a-workin' an' plannin' mighty fine, If you wish to be successful in any chosen line. 204 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, You should never think o' findin^ gold nuggets in the street, Nor expect to pick up dollars rollin' underneath yer feet; No one will push you for'ard to riches, power or place; Sich things don't often happen in life's great runnin' race. Jist keep a workin' an' a doin', fix yer ambition high. An' grab on to present chances in the twinklin' o' an eye; You hev got to keep a climbin' or fall beside the way; When you raise yer ladder higher, drive a peg to make it stay. Cinch yer belt a little tighter, then buckle in an' figlit, An' be sure that all yer efforts are on the side o' right; When travelin' on life's journey, erect yer stan- dard high. An' never change a muscle when temptation reaches nigh. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 205 Keep yer eye upon the target, an' yer hand upon the gun, When the battle rages fiercest never think to turn an' run; Keep a-pushin' an' a-climbin' with all yer might an' main. You are bound to win the battle by usin' brawn an' brain. Seatterin' smiles o 'pleasantness wherever want is found, Jist make a world o' poverty with happiness abound ; Then you may live contentedly in quietude an' health, Eememberin' you the steward are o' God's aboundin' wealth. Pa Led in Prayer iIUHERE are probably few men to-day, blessed with a vivid imagination and a keen appreciation of the ludricous, who cannot look back to their boyhood days and remember several laughable incidents in which their respected father played the leading part and acted it, too, in a way to affect their risibilities for months afterwards. How many men of the present can recall the fact that they were frequently forbidden to do certain acts which were practiced before their eyes by their paternal ancestor. Nor has the custom be- come obsolete, for at the present day parents con- tinually reprove their children for doing those things which the parents have made a part of their daily life ; and it is not an overdrawn state- ment to say that the father has been heard to swear at his sons in the most shocking manner for swearing. Another instance of the contradic- tory course pursued by certain persons is the true story of the father who severely punished his boy for stealing a trifling article from a playmate, Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 207 but who had no hesitation, or apparent compunc- tion, about going the next night and stealing half a ton of coal from the railroad, justifying his act by saying that corporations were robbing the peo- ple and, therefore, it was no sin to purloin their property. Most mortals are a bundle of incon- sistencies, keeping a very close watch over the lives of others, being ever ready to criticise their conduct, but always failing to discover their own shortcomings. We sometimes do things on the spur of the moment, or under great provocation, which are afterwards deeply regretted, and for which there is some excuse; but when everything is summed up, example is a more powerful teach- er than precept, and if we expect our children to be truthful and honest we must set the example. Pa was a member of the church, a Christian good and true, And oftentimes good people came my Pa to in- terview ; They vowed he was a pious man, whose heart was filled with grace. And tho' reserved 'twas hard to find a man to fill Pa's place. 208 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, The circuit preacher always said when on his weekly round, A cosy, pleasant Christian home at our abode he found ; It always tickled us young chaps to find the preacher there, And hear him say, ^^Amen, amen," if my Pa led in prayer. But my Pa was a bashful man who had not much to say. And when revival time came 'round 'twas hard for Pa to pray; Quite frequently the preacher urged on Pa to have mjore zeal. Said he, ^ ^ The more you work and pray, the hap- pier you feel." Well one time Pa and I went out to rake some new-mown hay — I never shall forget the fun I had with Pa that day; With fork in hand he tossed the grass, the new- mowli hay to make, While I, who knew the meadow well, came after with the rake. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 209 And while we worked my pious Pa would to his hopeful say: *^My son, a lesson you may learn from raking new-mown hay''; Then he'd repeat that adage old, ^^The grass which in the morn Springs up and lives is soon cut down and of its beauty shorn." So Pa and I kept working on, with naught of food or drink. Till may be one or two o'clock, and I was forced to think 'Twas very late for dinner time, when much to Pa's dismay Some yaller jackets claimed a right in that sweet- scented hay. Pa dropped his fork quite suddenly, and yelled and tore like mad. While I, too much afraid to speak, stood there and watched my dad; Well, next my Pa pulled off his vest and threw his pants away — None ever prayed with greater zeal than my Pa did that day; 210 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. With one ear-splitting, awful yell, he started on the run. While I fell back upon the hay and laughed and laughed for fun, To see the time my Pa could make, and hear him shout and — ^well — The prayers my Pa used that day I never dared to tell If Pa had ever heard me say the words he used that day. My shoulders would have been too sore to rake the new-mown hay; But then it makes much difference if it be man or boy; The older ones are punished not for language they employ. Pa headed for the summer house and prayed with lively zest. That he might never find again a yaller jacket's nest; When Pa drew near our christian home, the man of God was there, And had the pleasure once to hear how Pa could lead in prayer. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 211 The parson afterwards declared if Pa would show such zeal, During revival service, as when stung fromj head to heel. He'd he a winner in the work the devil's imps to down; And when the race of life was run he'd wear a starry crown; But I don't think that my Pa's prayers, ascend- ing on that day. Were such petitions as would help to bear men's sins away. His words were something strange to me— so in- nocent and young — I never heard such cuss-words come from any human tongue. But my Pa afterward declared, and I would fain believe. It was the only way on earth his feelings to re- lieve ; At all events don't blame my Pa — a christian man and true — You would have cussed as heartily had this be- fallen you. 212 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. My Pa has long since fonnd that rest to weary mortals given, While I take comfort in the thought, *^No sting- ers enter heaven." But while I live on this old earth I shall recall the day, When Pa found yaller jackets in the lovely new- mown hay. St. Teter and the Broker VLHARITY covers a multitude of sins. It is often stated by those who pretend to know that the rich, as a general proposition, are unchari- table; but as this statement is usually made by those who are poor, it must be accepted with a great degree of allowance. So far as I am per- sonally concerned, not being rich, I have no opin- ion to offer. I remember when a boy, turning the grindstone for two long weary hours, for an old gentleman who had an abundance of this world's goods, and when I had finished he gave me a penny. That old man's generous act was indel- ibly impressed on my mind, and I never employ a boy to do anything for me that it does not re- call the liberal pay I received from him for the labor performed. This proposition will probably go undisputed, that the rich become wearied with the many calls which are made on their resources, and it has a tendency to close the avenues of gen- erosity and make them appear before the world 214 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, as penurious individuals, when their natural in- clination is to be generous. While this mlay be true, it is also a fact that the donations for chari- table w'orks and benevolent institutions do not come from the immensely rich, but the enormous sums raised are generally contributions of those of whom it may be said, they have neither poverty nor riches. If charity covers a multitude of sins, from the way some people bestow their gifts, they view themselves as having few sins, or they are willing to let them remain uncovered. However, we have no right to judge, and we may well leave them in the hands of St. Peter, who will give them a fair examination before admitting themi to the eternal city. A wealthy old broker who met the sad fate Allotted to mortals, started up to the gate, And reaching the portal. Saint Peter espied, With the angel Gabriel close by his side. ^'What is wanted,'' said Peter, ^^for surely you know No strangers in here are permitted to go, Unless they are able their acts to explain. And show that they spent not their riches in vain. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 215 Unless they can prove they accomplished some good, It is one of the rules quite well understood, They never can walk on the bright, golden street With saints and with angels, unless they are mete To dwell with the ransomed, to share in the rest Vouchsafed to the ones the Eedeemer has blessed, To wear a white robe and with harp in their hand, Extol the great joys of the heavenly land." *^ 'Tis true,'' said the broker, quite pale and afraid, **That while upon earth ^filthy lucre' I made; But yet I was kind to the needy and poor. Nor sorrowing, turned them away from the door. I was kind to the widow in need and distress, I labored the orphan to succor and bless; And so, dear Saint Peter, your blessing bestow, Then permit me within the bright city to go." Said Peter, ^^My friend, in your plausible way, You make it as plain as the brightness of day. That you are an heir to this haven so bright. And that you should dwell in this city of light. I am sorry, dear sir, with the statement you give. To refuse you the chance in this city to live ; Some kind, friendly deeds I shall ask you to name Before you have fully established your claim. 216 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, *^Well, Peter," the broker, with calmness replied, *^A boy badly frozen, would surely have died. His poor little life was exhausted and spent. When I went to my pocket and gave him a cent; And then a poor woman, with poverty pressed. By the gift of two nickels was aided and blessed; And then, my dear sir, as I mentioned before, I was kind to the beggar who begged at the door. ' ' Then Peter informed the good broker to wait, Before he could enter the beautiful gate; And turning to Gabriel, he calmly inquired. If the record was true and all they desired; Then Gabriel answered, ^^By the record we made. His statement is truthful, and yet I'm afraid This broker on earth scanty gifts did bestow, So give him his money and send him below. ' ' Jim Slick Jin every little hamlet, in every village, in every town, if you are in any measure blessed with ob- servant qualities, you will have discovered our friend, Jim Slick, and in all probability formed his acquaintance. He has doubtless entertained you with his anecdotes, enlightened you with his superior knowledge (I) and bored you with his opinions, until you would prefer to absent your- self from that particular locality rather than meet with this paragon of perfection, be com- pelled to listen to his illogical statements, and be annoyed by his vagaries. This same ^'01' Jim," though he never accumulated wealth, could tell every poor man how to grow rich. He could lay down an economic policy which would put the finest statesmen to the blush. He could formulate rules and regulations for the control of religious denominations which would put to shame the ef- forts of a Knox or a Wesley. He could devise and promulgate plans for the advancement and bet- terment of humanity superior to those which have emanated from the master minds of the 218 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. present age. He could command an army with the same degree of success as did a Napoleon, a Wellington, a Washington or a Grant. His long suit is in giving advice on every conceivable sub- ject on which he is always deplorably ignorant, and which he never expects anyone to follow. You generally find our friend Jim seated on a box in front of a grocery, or other store, and al- ways so extremely busy that he has no time to work. How could he have leisure to work when in his estimation, the solving of the weighty prob- lems of the nation rests on his shoulders, his plain and arduous duty being to right the wrongs of his fellow men. Lazy, shiftless, talkative, igno- rant, conceited, addle-pated ^^OP Jim,'' he can be found everywhere and on the slightest provo- cation. Thar once was a f ello ' whose name was Jim Slick, Who spent all his moments in makin' a kick; or Jim was as slick as his surname implied, Fer he was born kickin' an' kicked when he died. He never would work^ but to kickin' he went. An' he kicked an' he kicked, till he hadn't a cent ; He swore that conditions were never half right, ^n' so he kep' kickin' from! mornin' till night. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 219 When the sun was a-shinin' throughout the blue sky, OP Jim would bewail with a cuss an' a sigh; It mattered but little what weather we got, Fer Jim it was either too cold or too hot; An' when it was cloudy an' sprinkled an' rained, From sowin' an' reapin' Jim Slick was de- tained ; It was either too dry or too wet fer 01' Jim, Fer no kind o' weather was suited to him. When work was a plenty an' wages were high, 01' Jim alius kicked, an' would alius deny, That fer the poor people 'twas ever the best To hev so much work when they ought to hev rest. When labor was scarce an' no work to be had, or Jim alius seemed to be cheerful an' glad; He heaped on the wealthy all kinds o' abuse, An' said fer the times there was nary excuse. To talk on religion 01' Jim would begin, An' when he got started you'd think 'twas a' sin, The way all the preachers deserted ''the cause," An' broke all the precepts in God's-giveii laws, 220 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, If politics ever by him were discussed, His kickin' an' cussin' would make you dis- trust, That every good man was a lastin' disgrace. An' Jim was the one to select fer the place. He discussed all the topics known under the sun, If by the least chance a debate was begun; He alius was 'round with a kick an' a cuss, Neglectin' his work to git mixed in the fuss. At length the time came when he gave up the ghost, An' this was the trouble which troubled him most : In heaven he longed to reside when he died, So in his last sickness he kicked an' he cried: *^I'm greatly afraid that I scarcely shall dare To do any kickin ', if I should go there ; Then as to the place which lies over the way, I know I shall kick, if I go there to stay. ' ' "So he died with his foot raised high in the air, All ready to kick, fer he sed ^4t wa'n't fair — 'Twould be to his judgment a lasting disgrace. To keep him from kickin' in any sich place." Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 221 I hev an idee, though you can't alius tell, 01' Jim was too slick to be kickin' in hell; Yet I'll lay a wager o' twenty to seven. You never will find him kickin' in heaven. Where Jim Slick has gone I'm unable to say, But, in heaven or hell, he is kickin' away; When Gabriel blows, at the sound of his horn, or Jim will rise kickin' as when he was born. MORAL This tale lacks a moral to make it complete. An' 'tis this: ^^ Don't alius be usin' yer feet; Don't f oiler the maxims laid down by Jim Slick, An' spend all your moments in makin' a kick. A Gift Bestowed 'ANY an ardent lover has made declarations to Ills sweetheart of the most extravagant char- acter, vowing in the most sacred fashion that he would go to the ends of the earth if thereby he could win her love; but has turned faint-hearted when requested to undertake the most common- place duty, or perform the easiest task. How- ever, it is not always an easy task to ask your prospective father-in-law for his consent to per- mit you to be engrafted in the family tree, and become a sort of side issue to the original stock. It is pleasant to be able to record that all young men do not receive the same treatment, nor have a like gift presented to them, as did this young lover when he sued for Elsie's hand. To the young man who is too bashful to ask the father of his lady love for her hand the following rem- edy is suggested. Swop girls and get one who has no father. In this way the difficulty will be obviated. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 223 I said to Elsie, whom I loved: **Wliat would you have me do, To prove my truthfulness of heart, to test my love for you? Shall I, as in the days of old, with sword and buckler fight. And by my prowess demonstrate I am no carpet knight! Shall I, to find the Northern Pole, the Arctic seas explore 1 Or stand with armies militant where surging bat- tles roar? Shall I on Afric's burning sands seek gems of wealth untold; Or on Alaska's frozen streams discover hidden gold? Dear Elsie, mention but the task that you would set for me — For you I'd scale the mountains high, or sail the raging sea. To know that I had won your love, had captured heart so coy. Would be sufficient recompense to fill my soul with joy.'' 224 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. Said Elsie to my pleading words, while mischief filled her eye, *^I care for no such sacrifice, nor fix the price so high. The task I set you may perform, nor quail at stern rebuff — Go ask my father, sir," she said, ^'that test will be enough/' I straightway to her father went, and sued for Elsie's hand; Then as prospective son-in-law awaited his com- mand; He quick refused her hand to m'e, with negative complete. But not to disappoint me quite he gave me both his feet. I thanked him for the double gift, as I passed through the door, But now I mourn in solitude, for I go there no more. I'd rather have one kindly hand stretched for- ward mine to meet. Than be presented suddenly with any man's two feet. The Parin* Bee JlT is difficult for those who have not been fa- vored with the opportunity to attend one of these gatherings, in any measure, to understand and appreciate the genuine, innocent amusement to be enjoyed at an old-fashioned, country **Parin' Bee." The huge pile of red-cheeked apples, whose dainty coloring is surpassed only by the rosy bloom seen in the cheeks of the farmers' lovely daughters ; the young men arrayed in their best; the old folk sedate in manner, but with ob- servant eyes living over again the pleasure of their younger days; the bashful one quietly re- tiring to some modest corner in harmony with his diffident nature; the merry hum of pleasant voices; the pleasantries and banter of jolly boys and girls; the rapid manipulation of the work — peeling, coring and stringing the apples to be dried for winter use — made easy by the many nimble fingers participating in the task; the plays, the dance, the lunch, the nicety of choice in pairing off after the "Bee'' is over — all make a delightful scene not easily forgotten by one who has participated in its pleasures. 226 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, The times air not the same, my lad, IVe often told yeou so; They laugh neow at the fun we hed Some fifty years ago; An' yet the oP time ^^pealin' bee," It beats 'em all, I veow — Sich pleasant times yeou never see, I wish we hed 'em neow. The black eyes an' the blue, my lad, A winkin' sly at yeou. Would leave the fello's lookin' sad. Not knowin' what to deou. But every boy would try to bring The girl he liked the best. To sit by him to core an' string. An' banter — all in jest. We pared, an' cored, an' strung, my boy, An' jined in fun an' glee. While some their time would all employ In jolly lark an' spree; The boys an' girls an effort made, To act home-like an' free; An' in those days I'm sure it paid To hev a ^^pealin' bee." , Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 227 Wlien all the work was done, my lad, The last string on the pole, In those oP days it was the fad. To bring in jelly roll, An' buns, an' meat, an' pies, an' cakes. An' drink called ^^ Honey Dew," Which, if yeou tuk too much, law sakes. It made a fule of yeou. An' so we ate an' drank, my boy. In pleasant days of yore. Filled up with cake, an' pie, an' joy, Till we could hold no more; At last the eatin' hour was past. The tables pushed aside, An' many feet were flyin' fast— His bow the fiddler plied. An' then those dear ol' plays, my boy- To kiss a pretty girl. It would yer sadness all destroy. An set yer brain awhirl. Oh, I have wished a theousand times. But wishin' is in vain. This fun which I describe in rhymes. Could be enjoyed again. 228 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. An' thus we played an' danced, my boy, Into the midnight hour; Our hearts were free from base alloy, Mirth held us in its power; At last the time would roll areound When we must all depart, But to some pretty girl 'twas feound,^ Some fello' lost his heart. Neow when the **bee" broke up, my lad. The *' pair in' " jist began; A lovely girl each fello' hed. Each girl her own young man. An' thus paired off we went along, A jolly, happy band, Singin' through life a pleasant song, Travelin' hand in hand. When I recall those days, my boy. It thrills me through an' through, An' so I think of long past joy. An' tell it neow to yeou. I loved the dear ol' ^'Parin' Bee," It thrilled my heart, I veow. Those were delightful days to me, I wish we hed 'em neow. Gathering '^ome iJuHERE come to me stealing sweet thoughts of the past, The days of my youth I am prone to review ; I wish that this dream of my childhood would last, Recalling the loved ones my infancy knew. They pass through my mind like a flood of sweet light— This beautiful theme, 'tis the one of my choice, Though long weary years have taken their flight I see the dear faces and hear each sweet voice. My kindly old mother, best friend of my youth, E'en now I recall With what kindness and grace. She trained my young mind in the pathways of truth, While a smile that was heavenly lighted her face. No words can paint truly her last loving kiss. Its lingering fondness I ne'er shall forget — How oft it returns, bringing sadness with bliss — It burned on my lips, it is burning there yet. 230 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, Oh, how well I can picture my father's loved face, His half-hidden smile, even now I behold; While the maxims he gave us, with old-fashioned grace. Were pictures of silver with apples of gold. It was more than a pleasure to hear his kind voice. Sedately we hearkened to all that he said; And now that I follow his teachings from choice, I'm thankful that I by his precepts was led. The dear ones at home I behold as of yore ; Around the old hearth in the fast-fading light. We gathered there, where we shall gather no more. And told pleasing stories far into the night. But now we are scattered in far distant lands, The scenes of our childhood are called up in vain ; Oh, affections are weaker, and severed the bands, We shall meet upon earth, no never again. A hope comes to me in this day dream of mine. That no matter where, or how far we may roam. Some kind loving spirit at last will incline Our wandering footsteps to seek a new home. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 231 Not a home where meetings and partings prevail, Where the heart with pain and sorrow is riven, A home which grim death cannot mar nor assail, Where we shall dwell with our loved ones in heaven. The Lassie for Me Uprightly Edith Marie is the lassie for me, I cannot recount all her charms ; She speaks to me rarely, treats me unfairly, but her sweet smile my anger disarms; I'm heart broken nearly, I love her so dearly, her sweetness and charms all combine To make me feel dazy, I almost am crazy, I vow this sweet girl shall be mine. She often may cozen sweethearts by the dozen, she may be a Witching coquet; She does it to tease me, tries to displease me, but I hope she will marry me yet. Oh, this dear little girl sets my head in a whirl, her fickleness often alarms; I long to caress her, I love her, God bless her, she may rest from care in my arms. Her silence oppresses, her shyness distresses, she has other lovers, I fear, Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 233 I'm bashful when near her, I constantly fear her, I intimate this is Leap Year ; My heart aches with love's throes, I want her to propose, her way will be charming, I know; Then with light in my eye, I shall eagerly cry: ^^My darling, you startle me so!" I shall quickly grow bold, tell the story of old, vow to be kindly and true; If you on me rely, the whole world I'll defy; I shall be life's protector to you. Nay, think not to tarry, we quickly shall marry, true lovers we always shall be; I no longer am coy, for it fills me with joy, be- cause you proposed unto me. We will always be true, our courtship renew, when the day you proposed draweth near; Vowing never to part, close united in heart, play marriage each coming Leap Year. Tiosalinda j| AM watching from the window as the sunset Paints the western sky and clouds a ruddy hue; "While I gaze upon the beauties of the picture, I'm thinking, Rosalinda, of the happy days we knew. I recall the pleasant moments, long departed. How we strolled beneath the maples, to and fro, How the story of our love was oft repeated. How your rosy cheeks with blushes were aglow. Often, I recall, in the quiet of the twilight. Our promises were given to be leal and true; Now as the shades of darkness creep around me, I'm thinking, Rosalinda, of the happy days we knew. I am wondering if the past brings secret sorrow, If those long departed days you oft recall; And as I think of other days I often fancy. We, together, drink the wormwood and the gall. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 235 Darkness lias appeared and blotted out the pic- ture, Teardrops trickle down, as falls the evening dew; While with deep regrets my mind is often crowded, I'm thinking, Rosalinda, of the happy days we knew. Have those happy, youthful moments been for- gotten? Has that loving picture faded from your mind! Has the love you once professed for me departed? Is there not left one lingering spark behind? Fleeting years have intervened since last we parted, Tim.e has blotted out love's picture from our view ; But yet, as there lingers now a ray of sunlight, I'm thinking, Rosalinda, of the happy days we knew. Could I walk again beneath the spreading maples And behold your cheeks with blushes all aglow. As I whispered in your ear the tale of true love — That would be a limning of a heaven below, baseball Excuses ClliHAT will become of you and me, what loss will we sustain, When all our relatives depart to come not back again ? What awful agony is ours, what sleepless nights are spent, When we have no material baseball lies to invent? For the greatest of all sorrows which can come to man or boy, Is when he cannot find excuse a ball game to en- joy; W^hen he tries to tell a ^^ whopper'' with malevo- lent intent. Knowing well his hurried footsteps to the base- ball game are bent. He glances up and glances down, nor meets your steadfast eye. While he hunts for raw material to compose a dog-goned lie; He knows full well and you know, too, his story can't be true^ Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 237 But when the national game is on what can a fel- low do? One buys a team and needs must go to put them to the test, The man of God, with solemn mein, must lay the dead to rest; The business man must hasten to close up a bar- gain rare. But when you saunter to the grounds, you'll find each fellow there. And then the better half of man, constructed from a rib. Without any hesitation will tell a corking fib: *'A very dear acquaintance, an old college chum of mine. Will stop to gossip with me as she passes down the line. So I must be at the station to bestow a welcome bright, I will see you somewhat later — is my hat adjust- ed right r' If you have a date to meet her, don't be restless or afraid, You will find her on the bleachers, most attract- ively arrayed. 238 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, The physician has a patient, and the lawyer has a case, But leisurely they hasten to the same old trysting place ; You will see them on the benches, crying out till they are hoarse, When some one knocks the ball afield with -^more than common force; But when the game is over, we're disposed to run and hide. Ashamed to face the folk at home, who know that we have lied. 'Tis the same the country over, till the righteous are dismayed At the lies which are invented when the nation's game is played. Without a Cook vKKhAT is home without a mother? Oft we asked in days of yore, And true love our hearts controlling, Placed that motto o'er the door. Now the burning question presses, Found in gossip and in book: What more need we now to bless us? What is home without a cook? She who holds the situation, Kules the household — early, late. Knows her power, and if offended, Dooms us to a hungry fate. Unless to assert our manhood, Conquered are we by a look; Forced to cry in direst anguish, What is home without a cook? **What is home without a mother?" Turn this motto to the wall, Place another o'er the mantle. E'en tho' tears in silence fall. To the kitchen queen pay homage — Mother and her realm forsook — - We must starve or bow before her. What is home without a cook? SI Christmas Gift uXKhAT will 'oo div to me, Mamma, 'Iss tummin 'Trismas time? A book 'ith pitty pitchers in. An' filled ith funny rhyme? A dolly, too, 'ith flaxen hair, 'At rolls an' winks its eyes, An' when me stweezes on its breast. It moves its mouf an' tries. 'Tanse bndder says at sister's house 'Ey have a 'ittle doll, 'At looks 'ike one me had las' year, An' dis' about as tall; But 'en he says her doll's alive, An' eats, an' sleeps, an' drows. An' when awake it rolls its eyes, An' moves its 'ittle toes. Did 'oo buy sister's doll. Mamma, Or did the doctor send An' borrow one from baby-land, Where 'ey have dolls to lend? 'Tause if he did, please speak to him. An' have him send or write An' det a doll 'ike sister has. To div' me Trismas night. bright and Fair l^OW bright and fair our boyhood days! Our minds with pleasure turn To rambling o'er the flowery braes, And through the flowing burn. Our thoughts turn backward and it seems Those joys once more we feel; We limp again, when wrapped in dreams, With stone-bruise on our heel. Yes, bright and fair those golden hours. Few clouds to intervene; Our sorrows, short sunshiney showers With rainbow tints between; Our boyhood days, a pleasant song We would not well forego; Our greatest pain, nor lasting long, Was when we ^'stubbed'' a toe. Yes, bright and fair tells well the tale Of happy days long gone; Yet every boy knows well the wail Which at the early dawn 242 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. Came ringing from the old woodshed, As o'er his father's knee, He was in wisdom's pathway led — Sweet, by-gone memory. Yes, bright and fair, those days return, - No clouds their brightness blur; Through all life's care and grave concern. Their joys our memories stir. Those pleasant days, no care to wrack. We sauntered oif to school. Where oft upon our youthful back The master plied the *^rule. >? Yes, bright and fair! How short the time Since we were restive boys. And how we longed, with faith sublime, To share in manhood's joys. Compelled man's burden once to bear, Our pains and griefs begun. Then disappeared our boyhood's care. As mist before the sun. Signs of Spring /^N old, gray- whiskered gentleman Sat at his desk one day; His thoughts in divers channels ran, Along life's varied way. He pondered o'er the checkered past. He smiled at grief and care; And troubles, which his sky o'ercast, To him| were light as air. For many a long eventful year, He ran ^^The Bugle Call,'' And watched through winters, cold and drear, His business rise and fall. He claimed the wolf of fabled fame. Which oft stood at the door. Would quit the place when spring time came. And haunt the house no more. And so the years had passed away. Like visions of the night. Which vanish with the dawning day. As dusk before the light. 244 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, And now the old man sleeps and dreams Of other lands than ours; He views a place which, to him, seems, To bloom with vernal flowers. The blooming orchards and the trees, Where robin red-breasts sing. The perfume wafted by the breeze, Denote the coming spring. As on he dreams, his mind is filled With scenes surpassing fair, But though with verdant beauties thrilled, A doubt still lingers there. But soon soft strains he faintly hears, And listening to the sound. His heart the low, soft music cheers. While fairies hover 'round. Each carries 'neath its silvery wing. As though to hide from view, *^ Sweet poems'' on the opening spring. Tied up with ribbons blue. And now the old man, sleeping, gazed. With smiles and mild surprise; His head in listening poise is raised. Doubt in assurance dies. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 245 The ^^ poems," for a while, he eyed, 'Twixt joy and passing fear. Then throwing up his hands, he cried **My God, the spring is here.'' Mein Garten Queen Jl lof do vatch dot budding drees, I lof dot leedle vlowers; I lof do see dot basdures green, Refreshed py vailing showers; But dot vich makes mein heart pe glad, Und pids mein lof avake, Iss Katrine in dot early morn. At vork mit hoe und rake. She has no dime for raising vlowers. Nor lof for useless veeds; She is in sbring dime okkubied In blanding garten seeds. Her unnions, beets und ratishes, Mit ledduses und korn, Are blaced in leedle blots off grount Py Katrine in de morn. She vorks und mit dose batience vaits. Dose sun schine und dose rain; She knows py seasons off der bast. Her vork is not in vain. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 247 She knows dose actif scherm off life, Nurtured py mutter earth, Shall veel dose vivifying forse, Und do a blant give pirth. Each veed vot lifds its useless head, Katrina cuds id down, Und shoo-os dot schickens righd avay, Mit scarce a bassing vrown. Dot vorms und grups on blands und tings, Vos quickly pud do roud Vor Katrine vants dot cap-pa-ges Do make dose sauer-kraut. So ven I sees dose frau off mein, At vork mit hoe und rake, I goes avay und laughs meinseluf, Undil mein sites vill schake. I dinks off all dot goot tings sdored, Ven summer meeds mit death; Off durnips, korn und cap-pa-ges, Und unnions for de preath. Und ven dot virst vruits off her vork Iss on dose dable sbread. All vet mit sbarkling drobs off dew, Vresh from dose garten ped. 248 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. I dinks me nod off plooming vlowers, Bud off mein frau Katrine; Und as I ead I schmile und say: ^^You vos mein Garten Queen." '*Vink und §chm//e'* Jl vos a gommon Sclierman manns, Who knows me nod de vays Off all de curious beebles vot I meeds me every tays; Und so ven vellows dalk do me, I always dink a vile; Und den I dry to look me vise, Und vink mein eye und schmile. A vellow ladely gomes do me, Und says, ^^Now, Hans, look here, Vot makes dose Dutch ead Limburger, Und trink dot lager peerT' Bud I don'd answer him so quick, I dinks me all de vile; Und den I looks vise-like at him, Und vink mein eye und schmile. Und den von oder vellow says, ^^Dot schbring iss awvul lade, Hans, do you dink dot for de vork Dot grop vill gombensadef'^ 250 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, But I schoost drive mein deam along, Und study all de vile; I have no dings do say do him— I vink mein eye und schmile. A vellow says do me von tay, **Hans, lent me vifty, gash;^' I vaits a leedle vile bevore I makes dot bromise, rash ; I hates me do refuse a frient, Bud yed I dink a vile, Und den I look ad him so nize, Und vink mein eye und schmile. Und den dare gomes a man do me, Do sell a patend schurn; Und dells me if I use dot ting, I vill mein leevin earn; Bud I haf meed dose men bevore, Und sol dinks a vile ; Und den I schake mein head ad him, Und vink mein eye und schmile. Mein frau she gomes do me and puds Her arm arount mein neck, Und visbers in mein ear und says, ^^Pear Hans, I vant a scheck;'' Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 251 Bud sclioost bevore I make id oud, I dink a leedle vile; Und den I say, *^How mooch, mein tear," Und vink mein eye und sclimile. Und schoost de oder day mein son — Got pless mein leedle poy — He gomes do me und says, ^^Papa, Puy me a briddy doy.'^ I dake him on mein knee und den I sdop do dink a vile ; He looks so schweed I say, ^^Alrighd," Den vink mein eye und schmile. Und den dot leedle girl off mein — Oh, Got in himmel pless — She gomes und schweedly says do me, ^^I vant a lofely dress. '* I vint her gurls arount mein hand. Dink schoost a leedle vile, Und say, ^^Off gourse, mein leedle tear,'' Und vink mein eye und schmile. I goes me vare de gratle stands, Und look me ad de eyes Of dot schweed, leedle babe off mein. Who vakes quick oop und gries; 252 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, Und ven I hear dot feeble voice, I vait und dink a vile; Und den I stlioop und kiss dot schild, Und vink mein eye und schmile. Some tay I vill pe gedding olt, Und veel de veighd off years; Bud I shall dry do pe gondent, Vich lighdens griefs und fears; If drooble gomes mit bassing years I dinks me for a vile, Und den I say, *^Got knows de pest,^' Und vink mein eye und schmile. Cuddle Doon ^HE bairnies cuddle doon at nicht, Wi' muckle faucht an^ din; try an' sleep, ye waukrife rogues, Your faither's comin* in. They never heed a word I speak, I try to gie a froon, But aye I hap them up an' cry, ^^0 bairnies, cuddle doon/' Wee Jamie wi the curly heid — He aye sleeps next the wa' — Bangs up an' cries, ^^I want a piece "- The rascal starts them a'. 1 rin an' fetch them pieces, drinks, Which stops a wee the soun' — I draw the blankets up an' cry, ^'Noo, weanies, cuddle doon." But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab, Cries oot frae 'neath the claes, Mither, mak' Tam gie owre at ance, ^^He's kittlin' wi' his taes." 254 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, The mischief's in that Tarn for tricks, He'd bother half the toon; But aye I hap them up an' cry, *^0, bairnies, cuddle doon." At length they hear their faither's fit. An' as he steeks the door. They turn their faces to the wa'. While Tam pretends to snore. ^^Hae a' the weans been gude?" he asks, As he pits aff his shoon, The bairnies, John, are in their beds. An' lang since cuddled doon. An' just afore we bed oursel's, We look at oor wee lambs ; Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck. An' Rab his airm roun' Tam's. I lift wee Jamie up the bed. An' as I straik each croon, I whisper, as my heart fills up, ^^0, bairnies, cuddle doon." The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht, Wi' mirth that's dear to me. But sune the big warl's cark an' care. Will quaten doon their glee. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 255 Yet come what will to ilka ane, May he who sits aboon, Aye whisper, though their pows be bald, **0, bairnies, cuddle doon.'' -ALEX ANDERSON. The Last to Cuddle Doon JJ SIT afore a half-oot fire. An' I am a' my lane; Nae frien' or f rem it dauners in, For a' my folk are gane; An' John that was my ain gude man. He sleeps the mools amang — An' anld frail body like mysel' — It's time that I should gang. The win' moans ronn' the auld hoose en', An' shakes the ae fur tree; An' as it sughs it waukens up Auld things fu' dear to me. If I could only greet, my heart, It wadna be sae sair; But tears are gane, an' bairns are gane, An' baith come back nae mair. Ay, Tam, puir Tam, sae fu' o' fun, He foun' this warl' a fecht; An' sair, sair he was hadden doon, Wi' mony a weary wecht. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 257 He bore it a' until the en', But when we laid him doon, The gray hairs, there afore their time, Were thick amsang the broon. An' Jamie, wi' the curly heid, Sae buirdly, big an' braw, Was cut doon in the pride o' youth, The first amang them a'. If I had tears for thae auld een. Then could I greet fu' weel. To think o' Jamie lyin' deid, Aneath the engine wheel. Wee Eab, what can I say o' him! He's waur than deid to me; Nae word frae him the weary years lias cam across the seal Could I but ken that he was weel. As here I sit this nicht. This warl' wi' a' its f audit an' care Wad look a wee bit bricht. I sit afore a half-oot fire. An' I am a' my lane; Nae frien' hae I to dauner in. For a' my fowk are gane. 258 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. I wuss that lie who rules us a', Frae where he dwells aboon, Wad touch my auld gray held, an' say, **It's time to cuddle doon.'' -ALEX ANDERSON. Tiab's 'Return AluHOUGH I am auld an' near the en', An' dauner here my lane, I wnss that thae auld een o' mine Could see wee Rab again. He's a' the bairn amang the three, That's left on airth to me; I wuss he wad come hame ance mair, Frae far across the sea. Today, in wand'rin' roun' the hoose, I foun' a wee bit shoon Which was puir Tam's, when as a bairn, He, greetin' toddled roun'. Thae little duds are dear to me, Sin' I a' my lane. For Tam, dear lad, has passed awa', Amang the mools has gane. An' as I turn, there meets my een Puir Jamie's bat an' ba'; I lo'e them weel, an' canna bear To pit thae toys awa'. 260 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, All me, it pains my auld, gray heid, An' gars my een to greet, That Tam an' Jamie baith are deid, An' Eab nae mair I'll meet. Then some strange body steeked the door, A lad wi' beard fu' braw; An' as I looked, it seemed to me, My ain wee Rab I saw. An' then my heart gaed wi' a boun' To him across the sea. An' elaispit in his airms, I knew, He had come hame to me. I sit afore a weel-built fire, Wi' wee Rab standin' near; He hands my puir auld, tremblin' ban'. An' ca's me mither, dear; An' sae though I am grawin' auld, I'm sittin' here thae nicht. An' when I look at Rab the warl' Becomes a wee bit bricht. Wee Rab is a' that's left to me. Which pains my hairt fu' sair; But sune I'll meet wi' a' my frien's, Sae I shall greet nae mair. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 261 My days are drawin' to an en', Soon I'll be ca'ed aboon, An' wee Rab gently close my een, When I shall cuddle doon. The '^ame Comin ' Ji'm far awa' frae frien's an' hame, My liairt is sad an' sair; An' though I'm hamesick for them a I shall go back nae mair. It wadna be the same to me, As when I cam' awa', Yet when I think o' thae anld times, The bitter tears doonfa'. My mither an' my faither gane To dwall wi' sannts aboon; My sisters an' my brithers, too, Wide scaittered far aronn'. To roam aboot the dear auld place, Whence a' my fowk hae gane. An' see each weel remembered spot. Would fill my hairt wi' pain. I see the auld hoose, an' I ken. The places whaur we played; I hear the streamlet murmurin' by, Doon which we aften strayed. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 263 I min' me o' the go wans sweet, The flowers by the stream, — Thae childish pleasures a' come back To me as in a dream. The ringin' o' the auld kirk bell. Strikes on my listenin' ear — E'en noo I tak' her by the han', My kin' auld mither, dear; I walk wi' her to God's ain hoose. An' as we steek the door, I hear the tune '^ Auld Hundred" sang. As aft I heard before. I hear the stern auld meenister, An' aye he makes me feel, That, tho' a child, I'm born in sin, A servan' o' the de'il. Wi' his damnation an' his hell, I'm frightit till I greet, For, if I'm nae electit, then. No frien's aboon I'll meet. I see my faither when he stairts To make his pairish roun'; An' when he gi'es his stern commands, I'm fearfu' at the soun'; 264 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, But when he takes me in his airms, An' haiilds me to his breast, I know he lo'es me an' I find In him a trustfu' rest. My brither Jock, sae buird an ' braw, I see him noo as weel As in my lang syne childish days ; An' aften times I feel I'd gie my fondest, dearest hopes 0' fame, or gear, or Ian', If I could hae fun-lovin' Jock To grip me by the han'. An' then my brither Will, I see, Sae fu' o' quiet fun; Hoo aften I was wheepit, sair. For mischief he had done. An' yet thae dim, auld een o' mine Wad kindle wi' delicht, If he were standin' by my side, To cheer my hairt thae nicht. An' standin' roun' the ingle wide, Four sisters come to min'; I hear their laughter as it rang In days o' auld lang syne. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 265 0, mair than happy, blithesome days, Devoid o' cark an' care; We spent them a' in mirth an' fun, Which we shall hae nae mair. For I am far frae frien's an' hame, An' a' fowk dear to me; Some dwall aboon an' some are gane To lan's across the sea. But he who haulds us in his ban's Will lead us to OHimsel'; An' guide each feeble, errin' chieP In Paradise to dwell. The Sultana Disaster In the spring of 1865, in the month of April, and on the 27th day of the month, after Johnson ^s men had lain down their arms, and the remnant of Lee's once magnificent army had surrendered; after Abraham Lincoln, the savior of his country, the greatest, and at the same time, the humblest of all the great actors in that war's terrible dramxa, had been assassinated; when the whole country, north, south, east and west, was re- sounding to the m^easured tread of home-coming martial hosts ; when the light of the glorious morn of peace had driven away the gloom, hardship, suffering, bloodshed and death of an awful but sublime struggle; when the watchman on the hill top, in answer to the question, ^^What of the night r' proclaimed, with and exuberance of joy which was wafted on the breeze, over the hills, and through the valleys, and across the plains, that the angel of peace had spread her white wings over the contending hosts, and that wars and ru- mors of wars at last were ended ; when the pulse- beat of the nation was one united throb of joy — then the doors of southern prison pens were thrown open, and thousands of wounded, half- starved, emaciated, pitiable creatures, once strong, healthy men, were liberated from the death ken- nels of the South. It became the duty of the Federal Government Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 267 to provide ample means for the transportation of these paroled prisoners to their northern homes, and Maj. Gen. N. J. T. Dana, U. S. Army, commanding department of Mississippi, whose headquarters were at Vicksburg, Va., placed Capt. Geo. A. Williams, First U. S. Infantry, in charge of the duties pertaining to an assistant commis- sioner of exchange to transact business with the rebel agents then in charge of federal prisoners of war. At first the rebel commissioners refused to turn over any prisoners unless they received an equivalent of Confederate men held by the North. After some delay, and considerable nego- tiation, an arrangement was finally effected, whereby the rebel commissioner. Colonel Ould, agreed to parole Northern men. In the absence of Captain Williams, who about this time was called North, Capt. Frederic Speed was assigned to the duty of preparing the rolls, and shipping these men North as rapidly as possible, the inten- tion being to send about one thousand (1,000) men at a load as the regular packets passed north- ward. It appears that some difficulty arose be- tween Captain Speed and Kerns, quartermaster of transportation, the former accusing the latter of trying to delay the shipment of these poor fel- lows on certain boats because they did not belong to the packet line which had the government con- tract, and that the contract line was offering a pecuniary consideration per capita for the men to be held for their boats, and Captain Speed claimed that the quartermaster was implicated in the scheme. At this time^ Captain Williams returned^ 268 TJioughts in Prose and Rhyme. and after a consultation between Speed and Wil- liams, it was determined to send the balance of the men on the boat, Sultana. About midday, while the shipment was being made. Captain Wil- liams came to General Dana and preferred the same charge against Speed which Speed had made against Kerns, but after investigation, Captain Williams admitted that his charges were without foundation, and fully exonerated Captain Speed. These preliminary facts are given to show that there was considerable trouble over the shipment of these men. The general suspicion seemed to exist that bribery was being used, each party ac- cusing the other, without proof to sustain the accu- sations. It may further be stated that some of the officers remonstrated against placing so many men on this boat, but it seemed to be the impression among those having charge of the affair, that the paroled troops, having suffered so long together in rebel prisons, were particularly anxious to go home together in the same boat, but even this re- port was without foundation. At all events the boat was overloaded, either through mistake in not knowing the exact number of men, as no rolls had been prepared, or by design on account of the accusations that bribes had been offered to cer- tain persons, superintending the shipment, by par- ties interested in other boats. It may also be stated that all the parties belonging to the boat who could be, in any way, held responsible for the disaster which followed the shipment of over 2,000 people on one boat, lost their lives at the time of the explosion, or died within a month after it oc- Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 269 curred. The fact, however, remains that 1866 paroled troops and 155 civilians were given pas- sage on the old river boat, Sultana, most of whom were men whose hearts beat high with anticipa- tion of reaching the North, and meeting once more the dear ones from whom they had parted when they bade farewell to peaceful vocations and went away to engage in internecine strife. Crowded to the very rails with creatures whom starvation, disappointment and suffering worse than death, would have rendered too feeble to stand the journey, only that hope buoyed up their souls, the old Sultana swung slowly out from the Vicksburg wharf, not, as they supposed, to carry them to their kindred and friends, but to bear them forward to destruction and death. The old Sultana pushed slowly up the river, carrying its load of human freight nearer, and ever nearer, its destination, and finally reached Memphis, Tenn., in safety. The moon, as though having a presentiment of their approaching fate, hid its silvery rays behind a cloud, and the twinkling stars closed their shin- ing eyes to shut out the horror of it all. As the old boat crawled slowly along during this part of the journey, the hundreds who thronged the decks, sought rest or recreation as led by their fitful fan- cies. Here, a group of men, with hearts filled to overflowing with joy, were pouring forth their gladness in patriotic song. There, another group listened with bated breath to the story of one of their number, as he told of narrow escape or brave adventure. Over in this direction, a few com- 270 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. rades were gathered around one who, from hard- ship and sickness, was unable to bear the journey, and was battling with his last powerful enemy before he passed into the great unknown; and as these men, who had faced death in almost every guise, dropped a tear for their dying comrade, they little knew that the grim monster was lurking near, and that soon some of them would bq grap- pling with this implacable foe. Over in another direction, men who had but lately been liberated from prison, were hearing for the first time the story of Lincoln's death. In the prow, some silently stood, peering into the darkness of night, as though to catch a glimpse of their once happy homes. Yet another group, with their blankets wrapped around them, reposed in slumber, and dreamed of the merry prattle of children's voices, and the gladsome welcome of a faithful, loving wife who awaited their home-coming with long de- ferred hope; and so the Sultana steamed slowly forward until she reached a group of Islands known as ^^ Paddy's hen and chickens," a few miles above Memphis. As nearly as can now be recalled, at between three and four o'clock in the morning, when the singing had ceased, when the story teller's voice was stilled, when the animated talk on the Presi- dent's death was hushed, when the darkness of night hung over the waters like a cloud, when the spirit of the dying comrade had broken the bonds of mortality and was winging its way to eternity's shore — ^without the slightest warning, without any premonition of danger, there came a crash like Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 271 the breaking up of the foundations of the earth, and yells, and cries, and groans, and shrieks, and prayers such as might emanate from the spirits of the lost, and the boat Sultana which only a few moments before had been gliding smoothly along on the turbid waters of the Mississippi, was blown to pieces and more than 2,000 souls were either launched into eternity or frightened, and bruised, and mangled and torn, were struggling against the elements to save themselves from a watery grave. Indescribable catastrophe! Appalling disaster ! No eye-witness can portray its horrors, no pen describe the awful scene. The dead and dying floating side by side; the ghastly faces of dead men with staring eyes; the detached limbs of slaughtered victims ; the scalded remains of what were once human beings; bodies burned and blackened beyond recognition; drowning men catching at drift-wood as it swirled past; the des- perate struggles of those unhurt; the floating de- bris scattered everywhere; the pitiable cries for aid; the heart-rending shouts for assistance, min- gled with the groans and prayers and expiring cries and demoniac yells of those driven tempor- arily insane through fright — all went to make a sickening, awful scene, the horrors of which ap- palled the world, and presented a picture which no painter's brush can produce, no writer's pen portray. According to the report made at the time by W. Huffman, Bvt. Brigadier General U. S. Army, there were 1,866 troops on board, including 33 pa- roled officers, 1 officer resigned, and the captain 272 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, in charge of the guard. Of these, 765, including 16 officers were saved, and 1,101, including 19 offi- cers, were lost. There were 70 cabin passengers and 85 crew hands on board, of whom 18 were saved, giving a loss of 137, making the total loss 1,238, more lives than are lost in some battles of modern times and nearly double the number who perished in the Iroquois Theater in the city of Chicago. As this terrible occurrence took place almost immediately after peace had been declared, it was asserted, at the time, that some person of fiendish disposition succeeded in secreting a powerful ex- plosive in the coal, whence it found its way into the firebox, causing the explosion which resulted so fatally; but time has worn away the intense animosities between North and South, and now it is conceded by those who recall the circumstance, that it was not perpetrated by human hand, but was one of those mysterious events, fraught with destruction and death, which will never be satis- factorily explained, until the secrets of all hearts are laid bare, and the intentions of the finite mind are read as an open book. In the early morning, as the gray of the vanish- ing twilight relinquished its transitory sway, and abdicated in favor of the king of light such a sight was presented to his first shooting rays as they shimmered over the waters as never before, under similar conditions, met the brightness of an April sun. A short time after the fateful explosion, various boats were manned by brave, humane men who did everything in their power to save those Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 273 wlio had not been instantly killed. Survivors were picked up everywhere in the vicinity, the res- cued were as well cared for as possible, the in- jured received medical attendance, and all par- ties saved from the wreck were given whisky, cof- fee, meat and bread, and every available means were used to care for those who found themselves in a condition which beggars description. As the statement was made at the time, that no one at the fort offered to do anything for the sufferers ex- cept the watchmen of the coal barges, it is here stated on the most reliable authority, that such statements were entirely without foundation. Many of the rescued were seriously injured by scalding and contusions, and all were shivering with cold; but blazing fires were built, stimulants were administered, blankets procured from the general hospital, the more seriously wounded were removed to the hospital of the Third U. S. Colored Artillery, and were treated in the most careful and friendly manner, every one being deeply interested in the pitiable condition of these unfortunate men, and every exertion being put forth to make them comfortable. The waters of the Mississippi were at high tide, and along the Arkansas shore were overflowing the land, and some of those who escaped death in an almost miraculous manner, were rescued during the day, from trees which they had climbed and to whose branches they had clung for safety. One survivor who was found in the spreading branches of a tree, always declared he had no recollection of the terrific event till he found him- 274 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, self, wet and benumbed with cold, clinging to the limbs of a tree, when only a few moments before he was on board the Sultana. One poor fellow who was scalded till the flesh was hanging from his bones, with wonderful endurance, and in- domitable will power, swam to one of the wharf boats — a poor par-boiled, suffering piece of hu- manity. Numerous instances could be given of the es- cape of different individuals, and of the remark- able fortitude displayed by various persons who were saved from the watery elements. Some very touching instances could also be given of acts of bravery performed, in trying to assist others, by those whose own lives were in the most imminent peril. While this is true, it is reluctantly stated that several of the crew of the Sultana were panic- stricken, and conducted themselves in a way which did not redound to their credit; but the bravest of men sometimes turn faint-hearted from very horror of the situation, and surely this was enough to make the most courageous tremble with fear. It may be interesting in this connection to state that Capt. Frederick Speed was tried by court- martial, the trial beginning Jan. 9, 1866, and end- ing June 5 of the same year, under two specified charges in keeping with the facts as stated in the first part of this article, ''That he neglected his duty, to the prejudice of good order and military discipline ; that he did neglect to avail himself of the services of Capt. E. B. Hatch, the Chief Quar- termaster of Department of Mississippi, and Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 275 Capt. W. W. Kerns, Assistant Quartermaster, in procuring necessary and safe transportation for said paroled prisoners ; ' ' and the charge proceeds to say that he usurped authority, arbitrarily placed on board the Sultana 1,866 paroled prison- ers, against the advice and remonstrance of the aforesaid officers, greatly overloading the boat, and, in short, making him responsible for the ex- plosion and awful loss of life. The court-martial convicted the accused. Cap- tain Speed, under the charge, after striking out certain charges, and he was sentenced to be dis- missed from the service. The case was then taken before the Bureau of Military Justice, J. Holt, Judge Advocate General, and in a very clear and logical review of the evidence, he decided that Captain Speed was not guilty of the charge pre- ferred against him, and in fact exonerated him from ail culpability, and he was honorably mus- tered out of the service, Sept. 1, 1866. Neither did the Judge Advocate cast any censure upon the conduct of Captain Williams, but he did state : * ' That Captain Hatch felt a consciousness of some responsibility for the disaster, is believed to be shown by the fact that though three times sub- poenaed to give his testimony at the trial, and though the trial was prolonged three months that his presence might be secured, he refused to obey the summons; and that notwithstanding every ef- fort was made to compel his presence, the Secre- tary of War being finally appealed to, to order his arrest for contempt, it was found necessary to finish the trial without his evidence.'' This 276 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, seems in some measure to fix the blame of this frightful loss of life on Capt. B. B. Hatch. If the scenes herein described, immediately fol- lowing the explosion, were heart-rending, no hu- man mind can conceive, nor human agency grasp the pathetic and heart-breaking sights which met the gaze of the beholder, when the dead bodies of the victims began to rise to the surface, and were taken from the water and laid on the wharf where many, unidentified, were held awaiting the action of the authorities and the undertakers who, for a time, were powerless to dispose of the hundreds held for burial. The wharves presented the most ghastly appearance with dead bodies strewn everywhere. A sort of break-water was formed alongside of the wharf and scores of dead bodies were fastened to the pier with ropes until some fitting disposition could be made of them. To gaze into the water and see the glaring eyes, the bloated countenances, discolored features, scald- ed limbs and mutilated bodies, was indeed a grue- some sight. The coming of fathers, mothers, sisters, broth- ers, relatives and friends, seeking for loved ones, hoping yet despairing, shedding tears like rain, watching with breaking hearts as each ghastly body was lifted from the water, fearing to gaze on the marred features, lest the contenance should disclose the marks of one beloved — these thoughts bring over the reader a feeling of indefinable hor- ror and dread of a character which cannot be ex- plained, and stamp the loss of the Sultana as one of the greatest catastrophes of modern times. A LECTURE ON The Life and Achievements OF PRESIDENT McKINLEY. S)IXTY-ONE years ago, in a little cottage in the town of Niles, Trnmbull County, Ohio, a babe was born who in the years to come was to play a leading part in the history of the nation, and have much to do with the settlement of the great problems which from time to time have arisen to agitate and perplex the people. His name is inti- mately associated with the more important events of his day, and on them is stamped the impress of his strong personality — he is known to ns as- William McKinley. Go where you will in the broad domain of earth, the lives of remarkable men stand conspicuously before the world, the landmarks of their genera- tion. Napoleon in his day changed the map of all Europe ; Martin Luther in his time brought much needed reform to the church; Washington was a great leader in the struggle for equality and liber- ty; the life work of Lincoln was the enfranchise- ment of labor, the emancipation of millions and 278 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, the salvation of the republic; but the deeds of William McKinley performed for the benefit, ad- vancement and uplifting of mankind are of so varied a nature and cover so large a field that it is a difficult matter to find his prototype among the great and good who have lived in different ages and belonged to different nations. Careful scrutiny leads to the conclusion that the people are divided into two great classes, the conservative and the progressive, and that each party has its extremists ; the extremist of the con- servative party is he who stands with his back to the sunshine and cowers and trembles for fear some great event may occur to disturb his equa- nimity; the extremist of the progressive party with boldness of thought and keenness of vision, turns his eyes towards the dazzling glare of the sunlight in the endeavor to discover something new which can be utilized to benefit mankind. William McKinley, though in many respects one of the most progressive, belongs to the extremist of neither class. In him is found a happy medium, not so progressive as to be called an extremist, nor so conservative as to be charged with f ogyism, he stands before the critics of his day as one possessing energy without rashness, sweetness of disposition without effeminateness, justice tem- pered with mercy, dignity with perfect simplicity, Christianity without hypocrisy. He stands at the head of a class which may well be imitated by the youth of the United States, for he was a typical American gentleman. Every young man and every young woman who Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 279 aspires to the honors and fame that this world can bestow, should select a pattern, and in order that the proper development may result, the pat- tern should be without a flaw. I know of no human character so stainless, no disposition so lovely, no mind more pure, no life more worthy of imitation than that of William McKinley. It is true there is but one perfect pattern, the Man of Nazareth, but in his sunny disposition, his purity of life, his strict integrity, his child-like simplicity, his gentle nature, his greatness of soul, his christian example — ^William McKinley may be selected as a pattern by the youth who aspires to become truly great. Like Lincoln he was born of humble parentage, and was acquainted with the hardships which the earlier settlers of Ohio had to meet and en- dure. Like Lincoln he was deprived of the oppor- tunity to secure a classical education, and yet by constant application he acquired a vast fund of practical knowledge which makes him appear both erudite and profound. No striking characteristic marked his boyhood days; he was not a precocious child; there was little about him as a boy indicative of his future greatness. Retiring in disposition, physically not too strong, but healthy, he reached the age of five years, the time fixed by common consent, in those days, when a boy should start to school. I wish the boys and girls of today could under- stand, and thoroughly appreciate, what it meant at that time to acquire an education — hardships to endure, privations to suffer, obstacles to sur- 280 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, mount such as are not known in this day of ad- vanced ideas and superior facilities. As a school boy William McKinley was not brighter than his fellows. There were probably in that school several as apt to learn as he, but none were more honest, more truthful, more dili- gent, more' obedient, and here are exhibited the marks in his early life which were the foundation of his future greatness, honesty, truthfulness, dili- gence, obedience — four corner stones without which no great human structure can be reared. After he had attended the public school in Niles for a short time, his parents moved to Poland, in Mahoning County, where the educational opportu- nities were better ; and it was in this village, with its spirit of discussion, of ambition, of religious fervor, of intense political feeling, that the major part of his education was acquired. There is no doubt that his moving in an atmosphere of pugna- cious denominationalism, bitter pro and antifslav- ery debate, considerable temperance agitation, and the discussion of new questions constantly arising, were strong factors in young McKinley 's development. In these debates and discussions he sometimes participated; and it was here he took his first lessons in forensic combats which, with future development, made him a great debater, a correct reasoner, and a fine orator. Here I wish to emphasize an event in his early career to my mind the most important which can possibly occur in a young man's life. By his mother his youthful steps had been trained to tread the path of piety ; from her he had absorbed Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 281 much religious inspiration; from her he had learned of those christian virtues which beautify the home. Thus early in life he concluded ^ * rather to suffer affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season, '* so he gave his heart to God, and his name to the class leader of the church, and from that time to the day of his death he was a staunch, consistent mem- ber, contributing to its aid and bearing its respon- sibilities. Imbued with an ambiton to attend a school of greater pretentions than the Poland Academy, McKinley turned to the profession of teaching, that stepping stone by means of which so many have reached the higher and broader walks of life. In a few months he had earned sufficient to enable him to attend Allegheny College at Meadville, Pa. ; but after he had been a student of that insti- tution of learning for a few months, owing chiefly to the earnestness , with which he pursued his studies, his health failed and he was compelled to return home. On his return he learned that his father had failed in business which was a sad blow to his ambition for thus early in life he had select- ed the bar as his profession, and this unexpected change in the fortunes of the family seemed to make the consummation of his desire a very re- mote possibility. Yet with the feeling of a dutiful son he manfully shouldered the burden, and la- bored to contribute his share to the support of his father's family. From the foregoing can easily be gathered that the early years of the twentieth President of the 282 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, United States, though not spent in poverty, repre- sent that struggle for education and position which makes the American character and the American spirit one of ceaseless endeavor and un- resting ambition. Inured to hardships such as the boys of his day had to meet, there was nothing in his surroundings calculated to weaken him for the great conflict of life. At this period the republic had reached a crisis ; the conflict between liberty and slavery could no longer be delayed. The immortal Lincoln stood at the head of the nation; the youth, McKinley, was in his humble home in Poland, Ohio. Owing to the attitude of the South after Lincoln's elec- tion, great excitement prevailed everywhere. The President exhausted every means in his power to avert the awful calamity which very nearly dis- rupted this nation, but without avail. The signs were ominous; an awful storm was gathering; it broke with crushing fury; old land- marks were swept away; the country was laid waste; once cheerful homes were made desolate; sweethearts wept for their loved ones; mothers mourned for their dead; fathers sighed for their sons who were slain ; the streams were tinged with red; the soil was enriched with richest blood — all — all because a race was held in bondage; but, thank God, slavery was chained to the neck of state's rights and both went down under the smoking guns of the republic. The viper, slavery, which had wound its slimy coils around the hearts of the people of the Southland, and injected its deadly poison into the system of the body politic, Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 283 had to be strangled and crushed, so that every man, and every woman, and every child, though he were as black as the blackest shades of night, or as fair as the whitest lily's bloom, should be free; and William McKinJey, now a youth of eighteen, burning with a love of liberty and equal rights to man, offered himself to his country to bring freedom to a downtrodden people. When the call came from President Lincoln for volun- teers to put down the rebellion, among the first whose name was entered on the rolls, thus signi- fying his willingness to aid in putting down insur- rection, and preserving the life of the nation, was that of William McKinley, a plain name, but one which, since that critical period, has been sur- rounded by a halo of respect, and honor, and glory, and love. On account of his extreme youth his parents were loath to have him enter the great army of volunteers who so gallantly responded to Presi- dent Lincoln's call; but the stern voice of duty whispered in their hearts, as it spoke to him, that sacrifices would have to be made, they gave their consent, and William McKinley became a private in Company E of the Twenty- third Ohio Volun- teer Infantry. The pale-faced, grey-eyed young patriot now flung aside his books, and shouldered his musket in the defense of his country; but here again his unassuming manner, the promptness with which he discharged his duty, his diligence, his obed- ience, his devotion to the sacred cause of liberty, his executive ability, brought him to the notice of 284 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, his superior officers, and chiefly through his own merit, he stepped from the ranks into a higher and more responsible position. The story of Antietam is known to every school boy and every school girl in the country. The Union forces, numbering about 75,000 men, under General McClellan, expected to strike a crushing blow and demoralize the Confederates under Lee. The night of the 16th of September, 1862, found both armies well posted, but with the advantage favoring Lee's position. The grey of that memor- able morning, September 17, rested yet upon the earth when the battle of Antietam began. The troops were crowded into the fight before break- fast, without even their black coffee, the benefit of which every soldier knows so well. Hour after hour the battle raged, as Burnsides tried to cap- ture the lower bridge by which passage could be had to the other side of the stream. Hour after hour, Hooker on the Union right fought his men with a desperation never surpassed. Early in the afternoon they were famished and thirsty, and then occurred one of those daring deeds which only the bravest of the brave undertake and only heroes perform. The crisis had come, it was un- certain which way the victory would turn, some- thing must be done to revive the drooping spirits of the men who are dropping out of line from sheer exhaustion. At this critical moment a bri- gade commissary sergeant, quick to grasp the sit- uation and keen to perform what he conceived to be his duty, fitted up two wagons with necessary Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 285 supplies intending to convey them to the hungry- men of his regiment. His keen grey eyes are flashing, his lips are tightly compressed, there is a look of determina- tion on his somewhat pale face as he mounts the seat and sends the mules off at a gallop. Onward they go, flying over the ground; the wagons jolt and jump and bound; the bullets whistle, the shells burst, the cannon roar ; never flinching, nev- er swerving, the driver holds his seat as stoically as an Indian brave; now they are enveloped in smoke ; one of the mules stumbles and falls ; it is up again; on they go; they disappear in a cloud; they emerged from the smoke; one of the teams is disabled, the other winded and flecked with foam, is halted close to the regiment, and amidst continued cheers, the hungry men are reciving hot coffee and warm meat from the hands of the driver! Need I say, the young man who per- formed this notable deed was — ^William McKinley. His personal courage was put to another test at the battle of Kernstown, July 24, 1864. In that battle the Union forces were compelled to fall back, but one of the regiments still held the posi- tion where it had been stationed at the beginning of the engagement. General Hayes ordered Mc- Kinley to bring away this regiment. Ever prompt to obey orders, he turned his horse, and keenly spurring it, rode at a gallop obliquely toward the advancing enemy. Across the open fields, over fences, jumping ditches, with a well directed fire from the enemy pouring upon him, enveloped in the smoke of exploding shells, his ears greeted 286 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. with the whistle of passing bullets, he reached the regiment, and gave the order to fall back, which they did under the brave yonng lieutenant ^s lead. When they reached the brigade, General Hayes grasped him by the hand, and as a tear glistened in his eye, he said : * ^ McKinley, I never expected to see you in life again/' When General Sheridan made his noted ride, **From Winchester twenty miles away,'' he passed McKinley on the way, rallying the demor- alized men, urging them to make a stand, and or- dering them to face about with all the courage and coolness of an experienced officer. It is not, therefore, surprising that he received several promotions, and that his commission as major, signed by President Lincoln, reads, ^^For gallant and meritorious services at the battles of Opequan, Cedar Creek and Fisher's Hill." Lee surrenders to the conquering Grant; the clamor of war is hushed; peace is proclaimed; armies melt away ; the white winged dove spreads her pinions over an undivided republic; volun- teers return to their homes to resume their usual vocations, and Major McKinley finds himself be- set with doubts and misgivings as to what course in life it is wisest for him to pursue. He finally takes up his work where he left it over four years before, and becomes a law student in the office of Judge Charles E. Glidden. He attended the Albany, N. Y., Law School, and in 1867 was ad- mitted to the bar. The little village of Poland af- forded but a poor field for a struggling young lawyer, consequently he decided to remove to the Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 287 manufacturing town of Canton, Ohio, which af- forded a much wider scope for his energy and ability. In Stark county he tried his first lawsuit ; there he entered the political field; there he made his first political speech; there he struggled in the early days of his profession ; there he became one of the first lawyers of his State, and with a lucra- tive practice. Among his first lawsuits is one very laughable incident. John McSweeney was the opposing law- yer, and the case was one of damages against a doctor for mal-practice in having set the leg of the plaintiff so that he was bow-legged. McSweeney made his statement, and offered the bare limb of the plaintiff in proof, showing that it was very much out of line. McKinley then made the re- quest that the plaintiff strip his other leg. This was strongly opposed by McSweeney, but the court ruled that it was proper cross-examination, and when the leg was exposed, it was found to be crookeder than the one which had been broken. McKinley then moved that the case be dismissed with the recommendation that the plaintiff have the defendant break his well leg and straighten it for him. Having passed through the war, it was but nat- ural that he should return to his home a member of the Republican party, and a believer in its prin- ciples. He was welcomed to the ranks of that par- ty, was selected as their candidate for prosecut- ing attorney in 1869, and in the fall election car- ried Stark County. 288 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, It soon became apparent to the politicians of that time that he was destined to occupy a more prominent position, and assume graver responsi- bilities than those which had hitherto rested upon him, and it was not a surprise when in 1876 he an- nounced himself as a candidate for Congress. It was not a matter of surprise that he became a can- didate, but the result came with astonishing force to the older politicians. He swept everything in his own county, was successful in other counties of the district, and was nominated in the Congres- sional convention on the first ballot. He brought into the campaign a force which no opposition could withstand, and was triumphantly elected by a handsome majority. From the day he took his seat in the House till he left the floor of Congress to assume a more im- portant position in his own State, the opposing political party recognized in him their most for- midable opponent, and by every device known to wily politicians, they attempted his defeat at each succeeding congressional election; but all their eiforts proved futile — each time he overcame all opposition, and for fourteen years represented the district in Congress of which Stark County formed a part. During all the time he served in Congress ^* tar- iff" was the leading question. It was discussed in the House, threshed over in the Senate, and formed the main topic of discussion in each polit- ical campaign. William McKinley was a pro- tectionist, so much so that ^^ McKinley and Pro- tection'' became synonymous terms. His argu- Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 289 ments on the subject were so forcible, his logic so incontrovertible, his manner so captivating, his sincerity so apparent, his simplicity so admirable, that a member of Congress who occupied a seat with the opposition said he always had to fortify himself mentally to avoid being carried away with his eloquence. The same diligence, the sam-O promptness in the discharge of his duty, the same dignified sim- plicity, the same honesty of purpose, the same tireless energy which he had so strikingly dis- played in other vocations, marked his course in Congress. In the election of 1888 the Republican party was victorious ; but they had only a nominal majority, and yet by his masterly management, under circumstances of peculiar difficulty, he suc- ceeded in getting his tariff bill, generally known as the ^'McKinley bill," enacted into law. It proved unpopular with the country at large, and in the November election following, he was defeat- ed for another term in Congress, and a general landslide occurred in favor of Mr. Cleveland's policy of tariff reform. I cannot pass over Mr. McKinley's Congres- sional career without referring in most emphatic terms to the firm^ stand he always maintained in regard to the common people. The first political speech he made was in favor of the down-troden and oppressed colored man. He especially distin- guished himself in defending a number of miners who were prosecuted for riot. He was deep I v in sympathy with the wage-workers, and it was through this sympathy that he became a careful 290 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, investigator of industrial questions. How to bet- ter the condition of the wage-earners was ever his theme. Whether his views were always correct, is not at present a subject of discussion, but his sincerity of purpose is, and always will re- main, unquestioned. His tariff bill was framed for American laborers and American homes, and was supported with all his ability and all his knowledge of ecomonical problems, because his great, generous nature was in sympathy with the laboring man. His bill was much greater in de- feat than in operation, for in its revision as the Dingley bill it has brought to the American peo- ple a large portion of the prosperity which they now enjoy. As I have already stated, in the election of 1890, the country went overwhelmingly democratic, and although Mr. McKinley succeeded in reducing the normal Democratic majority of his district from 2,900 to a little over 300, he went down to defeat in the avalanche of public opinion which had been aroused against the high protective features of his tariff law. His opponents were very jubilant over their success, and predicted that his defeat would compel him to retire from public life; but they little knew the character of the man, nor had they a true appreciation of the estimation in which he was held by the citizens of his native State. His downfall as a Congressman only has- tened the inevitable. The loss of his seat in Con- gress placed him in the gubernatorial chair of Ohio. He was nominated as the Republican can- didate for governor by acclamation. Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 291 In all the history of the Buckeye State, with its many interesting political campaigns, never was one so stubbornly contested as was that of 1891. State politics were entirely eliminated. The con- test was on national issues, on the tariff, on pro- tection. He visited every county in the State, he spoke night and day, at all hours, at all places. With such eloquence and passion did he defend his principles, that thousands and tens of thou- sands flocked to hear him. It was my good for- tune to be in Ohio at the time, and to attend one of his meetings, when he spoke in the open air to over 8,000 people. I well remember the compli- ment paid him by an opponent who listened to his forcible argument. He said: *^If 5,000 men heard Mr. McKinley discuss the tariff question, there would be 5,000 men who could go out the next day and make a good speech on the same topic.'' When I asked him why he said this, he replied: *^'He makes it so clear that a child ten years of age can understand it.'' I have always thought that Democrat voted for McKinley for governor. He conducted such a magnificent campaign, he defended the principles of protection so logically, his speeches were so free from invectives, his per- suasive powers were so seductive, that his oppo- nent objected to listening to him for fear he became a convert to his high protective theory. To such a campaign there could be but one ending— he was elected to be governor of Ohio. After he had served two years as the chief exec- utive of the State he was again renominated by 292 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. acclamation, and defeated his opponent, Larry Neal, by more than 80,000 majority. A few days before his second election, and when it was no longer a question of victory, but of majority, I was traveling on the train between Lima and Fin- lay, and Mr. Neal, Mr. McKinley's opponent, was on the same train. During the course of the jour- ney, a very pompous gentlem^an, who had learned that Mr. Neal was aboard the train, came along from the rear end of the car and when he was opposite Mr. Neal, he held out his hand and said : ^'When I get home I shall tell my wife and chil- dren I had the pleasure of shaking hands with the next governor of Ohio." Mr. Neal replied by saying : ^ ' You are probably mistaken in the man. You should see Mr. McKinley.'^ I have always liked Larry Neal for that manly expression. It showed he realized he was defeated, and was not ashamed to admit the truth, a condition from which most politicians shrink. It was no dis- grace to be defeated by one who stood so high in the estimation of the people, and occupied so warm a place in their hearts as did William Mc- Kinley. For four years Wm. McKinley was the chief executive of the great State of Ohio. During that time he conducted the executive department with credit to himself and satisfaction to his constit- uents. Chiefly through his recommendation and exertions, many needed reforms were introduced; the state institutions were improved ; the question of tax reform was given attention ; the eight-hour system for laborers was advocated; the arbitra- Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 293 tion system for the settlement of disputes between employer and employee was put into operation; laws were passed for the greater protection of life and limb in industrial pursuits. During his sec- ond term as governor, strikes and other disturb- ances prevailed, and the militia was called out on several occasions; property was protected; the law was enforced, and yet without injustice to either party to the disputes. To show how fully he was in sympathy with the poor and the oppressed, and how readily he re- sponded when help was needed, I give the follow- ing of which I was an eye-witness. During the Hocking Valley strike word was sent to Governor McKinley that the miners' families were without food, and unless prompt measures were taken, starvation would be the result. The telegram con- taining this information reached its destination at 11:20 P. M. Several of those who heard the telegram read said it was no use to take it to the governor that night, as nothing could be done till morning; but others insisted that the governor should see the telegram, and their wishes pre- vailed. The telegram was taken to his room. Within five minutes he was in the corridor of the hotel, and when one gentleman said to him : ^ ' Gov- ernor, the stores are all closed, and nothing can be done till morning," he replied: ^'When men are hungry, women are starving and children are cry- ing for bread, it is not a time to say nothing can be done. Let us get the stores open, buy some provisions and load the stuff on the cars ready to go south tomorrow morning.'' With his master 294 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, hand at the helm, committees were appointed, the stores were opened, goods were purchased, drays were procured, the provisions were carted to the depot, loaded on the car, and by five o'clock the next morning were speeding southward to save those dying people. Do you wonder that the peo- ple loved him! Ohio has had many good govern- ors — McKinley ranks among the best. In all his splendid career nothing shows the sterling qualities of the man so conspicuously as the honorable course he pursued in the two na- tional conventions to which he was sent as a dele- gate. Had he wavered for a moment in his loyalty to those to whom his support was pledged, had he but entered an equivocal protest, or had he re- mained silent, in all probability he would have been nominated. Pause for a moment and think what was involved in the situation. A nomination for the presidency of the United States at the sacrifice of his honor, was a temptation which would have caused a less honorable man to stum- ble and fall. Not so with William McKinley; honor was dearer to him than his life, and while the chance of preferment hung temptingly before him, he was able, through the magnificent strength of his character, to push the tempting bait aside and wait a future opportunity. Many here can recall the circumstances of the convention of 1888, when the Ohio delegates were pledged to the support of John Sherman for Pres- ident. From the first, one or two stray votes stood opposite McKinley 's name to which little attention was paid, but from two the number rose Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 295 to fourteen, and the situation was alarming. Tele- grams began to pour in from Washington urging his nomination, a stampede was imminent, the next ballot might give him a majority over all. Then it was that his high sense of honor and loy- alty stood out in bold relief. He sprang to his feet, and in a voice which thrilled the assembly, he demanded that no more votes should be cast for him in that convention. His wishes were re- spected, and although John Sherman, whom he so loyally supported, did not receive the nomination, McKinley stood before the world a man of the strictest honor and the highest integrity. An incident similar to the above occurred in 1892 when Mr. McKinley was pledged in honor to support President Harrison. At that convention when the Ohio delegation was reached, in the roll call, the vote was announced, '^44 votes for Mc- Kinley, ' ' the correctness of which was immediate- ly challenged by Mr. McKinley, who had been made chairman of the convention; but he was in- formed that he was no longer a member of the delegation, having yielded his place to his alter- nate when he became chairman; but he was too experienced a politician to have his desires thwarted by a shrewd move of the shrewd Joseph B. Foraker. He immediately called another gen- tleman to the chair, and taking his place as a del- egate, in most emphatic terms he demanded that the vote of the Ohio delegation be polled; and al- though his was the only vote changed to Harrison, it stemmed the tide in McKinley 's favor, and made Harrison the nominee of the convention. 296 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. Twice the nomination for President was within his grasp; twice he was called upon to exercise the greatest fortitude ever displayed by mortal man; and on each occasion he was undaunted in his loyalty to his friends, and stood before the people the embodiment of honor and sincerity of purpose. From the beginning of the national campaign of 1892, premonitions of defeat seemed to stare Eepublicans in the face! Cleveland's short, crisp sentence, ^^The tariff is a tax" imbued the people with a desire to be emancipated from so grievous a burden. They asked for a change, and it came, and while it is not within the province of this lec- ture to discuss the various causes leading up to the conditions following that change, it is admis- sible to state that no such dark pall of calamity had ever hung over the nation as was experienced during those four terrible years. It is, therefore, but reasonable to suppose that, having tried a period of tariff reform reaching up to 1896, the eyes of the people, or at least that portion of them who believed in a protective pol- icy, would be turned towards him whose name stood for protection to American industries, who was the leader of his party, the exponent of its economic theories of government and their appli- cation and administration. Long before the St. Louis convention, it was conceded that he would be chosen as the standard-bearer of his party. The claims of his friends were verified, and he was nominated on the first ballot. In addition to the tariff question as one of the Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 297 leading topics of discussion, the *^free and unlim- ited coinage of silver at a ratio of 16 to 1 regard- less of any other nation on earth/' which had been receiving considerable attention, now surged to the front and became the foremost issue of the campaign — a campaign which excited greater in- terest, and stirred the nation to profounder depths than any previous campaign in the history of the United States. The momentous interests involved, the radical changes to be inaugurated, the tremendous effects upon the financial world, caused the most intense interest to be taken by all classes. Laborers, farmers, merchants, artisans, professional men, neglected their business to dis- cuss the money question. In doleful terms the sound money advocates depicted the terrible dis^ asters which would follow its success. In glowing colors the supporters of the '^new doctrine" painted the benefits to be derived, until some be- lieved that with the ushering in of the ^^new dis- pensation '^ the millennium would dawn, and all the people would rejoice. During this memorable contest William McKinley remained at his home in Canton, 0., the same, calm, courteous, self-pos- sessed, affable gentleman whom the people had learned to know so thoroughly and love so well. In fact for him to do justice to the people, it was necessary that he remain at home to greet the thousands and tens of thousands who visited him. Delegations of labor organizations, of tradesmen, of professional men; delegations of railroad engineers, of conductors, of brakemen, of switchmen; delegations of sight-seers, of curio 298 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, Imnters; delegations from the different avenues of life ; delegations from the North, and the South, gathered around that modest Canton home, each good-naturedly vieing with the other to he the first to receive a welcome from him who was the cynos- ure of all eyes. What a field for retrospective thought ! It was here he struggled as a young attorney; it was here he won his first success at the har; it was here he laid the foundation of the eminence on which he now stands. The mind is carried back to his struggles for an education; we live over again with him the hardships and dangers of the war; we hear him once more as he delivers that memorable speech in opposition to Fernando Wood's non-protective tariff bill; we see him as he walks the floor of the governor's chambers in Columbus, wracking his brain to devise plans to settle strikes without bloodshed; we watch him with admiration as he plans to raise funds for those strikers in distress; we listen to him with awe as he stands before the national convention, insists no votes be polled for him, and with all the power of his vigorous manhood demands that his honor shall be kept unsullied; we hear his calm, well-modulated voice as he addresses a dele- gation of laboring men, and his voice vibrates with sympathy as he extends to them words of good cheer and encouragement; we listen to his polished words as he receives a delegation of col- lege professors; we are astonished at his tact in handling men, and we are ready to admit he has justly won the name, ^^The Great Harmonizer. ' ' Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 299 Election day came, and by a decided majority in the electoral college, and an overwhelming popu- lar vote, he became the chief executive of the greatest republic and the greatest nation in the world. When President McKinley was inaugurated the country was in a deplorable condition. Factories were closed, men were out of employment and de- pression along all lines reigned supreme. Mr. McKinley as the exponent of the Eepublican par- ty had advocated that it was not a change in the monetary system of the country, but a revision of the tariff schedules which was needed to bring about more prosperous conditions, therefore the people had a right to demand that his remedy be applied as speedily as possible. There was no shirking of responsibility. As soon as possible after Congress convened the Dingley bill was in- troduced, passed the House, went to the Senate, passed that body with numerous amendments, was sent to the conference committee and after ten daj^s a compromise between House and Senate was effected, and the bill became a law July 14, 1897. This tariff legislation known as the Dingley bill was but a rehabilitation of the McKinley law, and while I wish to say nothing derogatory to, or in the defense of, the Dingley law, candor com- pels me to admit that after its passage business prospects immediately brightened, showing, so Eepublicans claim, the wisdom of Mr. McKinley 's contention that a revision of the tariff would im- prove the business outlook. As difficult of solution as was the tariff proposi- 300 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. tion, and as much as the question required imme- diate attention and settlement, left by the outgo- ing administration was another problem of mo- mentous import, and one, to, which would brook of little delay — the question of the liberation of Cuba from Spanish domination and tyranny. For hundreds of years the Spanish yoke of op- pression had been worn by the patriotic Cubans. On various occasions they had striven to free themselves from this galling yoke, but all their efforts had been in vain, and now they are en- gaged in a death struggle for independence and liberty. The eyes of all nations were turned to- wards this great republic, questioning what this government proposed to do to relieve a condition which had become almost intolerable. About this time General Weyler had taken charge of affairs in Cuba, and all insurgent sym- pathizers had been ordered to leave their homes and report in the different towns — a heartless edict through which thousands and tens of thou- sands of these poor creatures died of starvation. This inhuman act made the blood of the American people boil with indignation ; but the climax of righteous wrath was reached when the reports of senators, who visited Cuba to ascertain the exact facts, were made public. The whole country was in a furor of excitement, and there was imminent danger that some of our most conservative states- men and wisest diplomats would fly oif at a tan- gent and precipitate a conflict damaging both to this country and to the Cuban patriots. Inflammatory speeches were delivered in Congress, not only by Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 301 members of the party politically opposed to the administration, but by some of the President's former adherents, wherein he was accused of be- ing controlled by the money power, and of not having the courage to end the intolerable condi- tion. We were on the eve of a war with a foreign na- tion ; were about to be called upon to demonstrate our boasted strength ; the eyes of the people of all civilized countries were turned upon us; the diplo- mats of all nations, especially those of monarchial forms of government, were on the alert to dis- cover how the greatest republic in the world would comport itself in a period of extreme diffi- culty; political critics, not of foreign countries alone, like vultures were hovering in the air wait- ing to pounce upon the carcass and feed upon the putrid flesh of a dead republic. Those who were clamoring for immediate war lost sight of the fact that certain preparations are necessary be- fore a great work can be carried to a succesful consummation; but the President had carefully investigated the situation; calmly and with far- seeing ability, he had weighed all the facts, and neither the abuse of his enemies nor the stormy words of his friends, could move him from the course which his conscience and his judgment dic- tated was calculated to bring needed help to the suffering and credit and honor to the nation. He saw that which others failed or refused to see, that from a military standpoint we were not ready to cope with a foreign power in modern warfare. Knowing this as the President knew it, he stood 302 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. firm as a rock, moved neither by the rash advice of his friends, nor the abuse of his enemies, until in his calm judgment we were in a great measure prepared for the conflict. The President, who had passed through the greatest civil war in the history of the world, knew the sad consequences which, if war was de- clared, must result. He knew that once war was declared, the blood of some of our bravest young men would enrich Cuban soil; many a father's head would be bowed low in sorrow ; many a moth- er 's heart would cry in vain for her darling boy; many a sister would weep for a brother slain in battle ; many a loved one would depart from home to return again no more. As did Lincoln before the breaking out of the civil war, President McKinley exerted every ef- fort to turn aside the dreadful calamity ; and there are those today who adhere firmly to the opinion that but for the immoderate utterances of certain members of Congress, coupled with the destruc- tion of the Maine in Havana harbor, the question of Cuban independence would have been peace- fully settled with satisfaction to Spain, liberty to Cuba, and credit and honor to this republic. Un- fortunately, however, for the amicable settlement of the difficulty, this almost unparalleled disaster threw the country into the wildest excitement, and drove all prospects of peace from the minds of the people. Through this awful deed the excite- ment prevailing in the country increased a thou- sand fold, and a very pandemonium of indigna- tion again broke out in Washington. President Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 303 McKinley, with his usual calmness and quiet de- liberation, advised caution and patience till a naval board of inquiry proceeded to Havana to investigate the cause of the explosion. As soon as that report was received it was transmitted to Congress, accompanied by his message, which ended with the following impressive words : ^^The issue is now with Congress. It is a sol- emn responsibility. I have exhausted every ef- fort to relieve the intolerable condition of affairs which is at our doors. Prepared to execute every obligation imposed upon me by the constitution and the law I await your action. '* While circumstances were shaping themselves to bring a declaration of war between the two powers, the greatest activity prevailed in every department of government service. All the pow- ers of the government were being exerted to have everything in readiness when the clash came. The giant republic of the western hemisphere had doffed her habiliments of peace, donned her armor of battle, and stood before the world, the cham- pion of liberty and the defender of the down-trod- den and the oppressed. War was declared April 21, 1898, and standing on an eminence above the turmoil, and confusion, and excitement, and clamour of that time, is a calm, prudent, experienced, honorable, courage- ous gentleman whose keen vision has grasped the situation from the beginning, and to whose fore- thought and judicious management, in a great measure, is due the splendid achievements of our navy at sea and our army on the land. Beginning 304 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, with the capture of the Spanish ship ^^Buena Ventura'^ by the gunboat Nashville and ending with the destruction of the Spanish fleet at San- tiago, and the victories of the American army in Cuba, not forgetting Dewey's splendid achieve- ments in Manila harbor, there had been prose- cuted for one hundred days, in some respects, one of the most remarkable wars in history. The hand of him who was at the helm, and con- ducted the war which brought peace and liberty to Cuba, and placed the Philippine Islands under the protection of the United States, is now stilled in death, but the work which he accomplished will live as long as the history of the nation, and his name will shine with ever increasing lustre among the bright stars in the firmament of the republic's greatest lights. This war, though of short duration, has been the means, more than anything which has oc- curred since the civil strife of the sixties, of pro- moting an era of good-fellowship between North and South, and none knew better than President McKinley how to encourage that feeling of friend- ship and love that should exist among the people of one country. Listen to his words at Atlanta — words which should act as an inspiration in North and South today: ^^ Reunited — one country again and one country forever ! Proclaim it from the press and the pul- pit; teach it in the schools; write it across the skies ! The world sees and feels it ; it cheers every heart. North and South, and brightens the life of every American home. Let nothing ever strain it Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme. 305 again. At peace with all the world and with each other, what can stand in the pathway of our pro- gress and prosperity r* I wish here to direct your minds to a remark- able incident in President McKinley's life. Years before he had performed a notable deed, as a com- missary sergeant, on the field at Antietam. He stands once more on that old battle ground over which he had dashed with supplies for the soldiers of his brigade — the chief magistrate of the great- est country in the world, and these are his words : ^'Standing here today one reflection only has crowded my mind, the difference between this scene and that of thirty-eight years ago. Then the men who wore the blue and the men who wore the grey greeted each other with shot and shell, and visited death upon their respective ranks. We meet after all these intervening years, with but one sentiment — that of loyalty to the government of the United States, love of our flag and of our free institu- tions, and determined men of the North and men of the South, to make any sacrifice for the honor and perpetuity of the American nation. ' ' President McKinley's nomination for a second term was conceded long before the time for hold- ing the convention rolled around ; and his election to succeed himself was a foregone conclusion. The same gentleman who so fiercely contested his election in 1896, was once more his opponent; and in additon to the tariff and money questions, the new issue of ^^Imperialism'' was sprung upon the people, but without avail. The people ap- 306 ThougMs m Prose and Rhyme, peared to be satisfied with existing conditions, and when the battle of ballots was over, the result proved that the country had confidence in the wise administration and honorable course pursued by President McKinley and his cabinet. By a larger popular vote and a greater number of votes in the electoral college than he had in 1896, he was again elected to occupy the proud position of chief exec- utive of a country numbering 80,000,000 of free people. From the place where he was born, a child of humble parentage, we have followed President McKinley through all the vicissitudes of life. We have traveled with him from the modest home of his parents to the White House, and we have dis- covered that he was respected and loved by all the people. The people loved that boy — ^honest, at- tentive, and diligent at school. The people loved that youth — striving to complete his education. The people loved that young soldier — fighting for his country. The people loved that county attor- ney—striving to be just, yet merciful. The people loved that husband — devoted to his beautiful wife. The people loved that eloquent lawyer — ^pleading for the poor and the oppressed. The people loved that politician — true as the needle to the pole to his friends. The people loved that Congressman — fighting courageously to benefit mankind. The people loved that governor — feeding the poor, righting the wrongs of State, and fearlessly ad- ministering its affairs. The people loved that President — mighty in war, great in peace. The Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, 307 people loved that citizen — pure, and kind, and noble, and great, and good. William McKinley was a splendid citizen, a brave soldier, a brilliant statesman, a wise ruler and withal a christian gentleman. His life and public services are a part of our country's most thrilling history; and no grander record of daz- zling achievements can be placed under the name of any man of modern times. Not merely in intel- lect, eloquence, and far-seeing statesmanship, not merely as a political leader and advocate of our national industries, welfare and great prosperity, but as a man of noble virtues and exalted charac- ter, the life of President McKinley challenges the admiration of the world. The master statesman of his age, the magnetic leader of his party, the gallant defender of Amer- ican rights, the idol of the nation, he stands and will ever stand, as one of the most conspicuous figures in the history of his country. Clear in his grasp of public questions, eloquent in advocating his principles, considerate and len- ient towards his opponents, affable in all his in- tercourse wth others, simplicity permeating every fibre of his being, and with it all a disposition so sweet, so gentle, so lovable as to endear him to all those with whom he came in contact. Eunning through all his life was a thread of purest gold — his christian virtues. Shining as a diamond of purest water — ^his christian example. Countless thousands, coming and going, with the inexorable march of time, will pause to view the great land- mark inscribed with President McKinley 's name; 308 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, and as generation after generation marches past in grand array, no nobler character will be found, no name inscribed on memory's sacred page, will more fragrant be than that of William McKinley. I have now reached the last page in the history of him of whom it can be said, he was true to him- self, true to his country, and true to his God. Would to heaven it had never been written! Would to heaven that no such dastardly crime should be recorded in the annals of our history ! I cannot give a full account of the assassination of President McKinley, neither am I disposed, at any length, to dwell on this last, sorrowful chap- ter. Much rather would I dwell on the good per- formed by him whose name will always be cher- ished by the American people as among the great- est and best of mankind. **The deeds which men do live after them,'' and the deeds which William McKinley wrought will live as long as time shall continue. They will live in the great beyond, and saints and angels will sing praise that a human soul was able to accomplish so much to benefit and bless mankind! When such a great undertaking as the Pan- American Exposition, involving the expenditure of millions of dollars, and bringing together mil- lions of people from every quarter of the world, was in progress, it was expected that the Presi- dent of the country would be invited to partici- pate in its operations. President McKinley arrived in Buffalo and de- livered his famous address at the Pan-American Exposition, September 5 — an address which will Thoughts in Prose cmd Rhyme. 309 be handed down to each succeeding generation as one of the finest ever delivered by any public man before any great assemblage of people. This splendid address was delivered September 5, and on September 6 the fatal shot was fired which brought President McKinley's magnificent career to an untimely end, September 14, 1901 — this aw- ful shot which was heard around the world, which caused crowned heads to bow in sorrow, and made the best people of all nations shed tears of sincer- est grief. I cannot dwell upon the scene. My heart is yet stricken with grief that one so good, so pure, so just, so kind, so brave, so great, so lovable and so loved should perish at the hand of a miscreant whose very name I abhor. I shall not dwell on the grief and indignation which swept like a mighty billow over the sorrowing hearts of this great nation. I shall not dwell on the period of hope, and grief, and fear, and prayer through which the nation passed, while the wounded Pres- ident hovered between life and death at Milbourn House, Buffalo. I shall not ask you to remember the mighty feeling of sympathy which welled up in the heart of every true man and every true woman for his grief-stricken wife in her awful sorrow, for as long as life shall last a silent tear will gently fall for that amiable and beautiful lady whom the whole nation is delighted to honor. I wish rather to lead you, calmly, quietly, gent- ly, without a whisper, without a sound, with head bowed down and tearful eyes, to the bedside of our dying President. I want you to note how a great man meets his greatest foe — the common 310 Thoughts in Prose and Rhyme, foe of man. I want you to know how a good man dies! Step softly. You are in the presence of death. Weeker and weeker beats the pulse. Dim- mer and dimmer grow the eyes. Fainter and fainter are the heart beats. His lips move. He is about to speak. Bend you heads forward and hear his low, sweet voice as he chants the words of his favorite hymn : Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer, to Thee! E'en tho' it be a cross That raiseth me; Still all my song shall be. Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer, to Thee, Draw nearer and hear his dying words : ^ ^ Good bye, all; good bye. It is God's way. His will be done." He falls into calm and peaceful slumber. It is all over. He is dead. 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