\;.-:U/ : /4-- : .. V« ?£fh''J' J ^M\ ,/0 ■'...■ i ,yj .- .-■".' • Si-. •'•'*i\ '■J''/ 'Js ' ■ ': ' -^ T ;■'-'' -«'.' - '•. V;^ ■/-■'■■■< ..^ ,. . ., 1 .: J ■- 'I ■ - -7ow on this day, down in the bay, Her form lies in'the brine, And thru these years in bitter tears In pain she could but pine. 2so^v life is gone before the dawn When he should see the child : In frantic pain and longings vain, He sees his error wild ; The little girl with dark brown curl Bears likeness to his face, But free from sin which he is in, And free from deep disgrace. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. A LIFE. In a cradle sleeps an infant Soon in life to stray ; Reckless father, shiftless mother, Lead this soul away ; And this soul, first sweet and loving, Grows to manhood there : Weds another to her ruin — Parents, stop ! Compare ! THE DRUNKARD'S DREAM. The thunder peals with fearful sound, The rain begins to fall ; The lightning flashes to the ground And then the streaming squall,— And in that mournful cottage home Once merry, years ago, Now lies a wretch with grunt and groan, One who has fallen low. Orice even he, a man of pride, With manly thought and heart 10 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. Had to the altar led a bride, With whom he would not part. He promised her a peaceful life, To cherish and protect ; She is, instead, a wretched wife For want of his respect. The home he filled with kindness sweet A ruin stands today ; The words he said with love replete, No more he cares to say ; No more the smile, no fond embrace, No more his tender care, But brutal wreck, a sad disgrace To her who thought him fair. O, see him tremble as he sleeps ! His lips begin to shake ; A sullen sadness o'er her creeps, Her heart begins to ache. He dreams of childhood and his home When he was young and free, Before he had begun to roam O'er land and briny sea. He dreams of mother on her bed — The promise that he gave ; The vow he broke— when she was dead- To fill a drunkard's grave. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 11 DO NOT TOUCH IT. One day, when but a boy of ten, I ran up to the forge with haste ; I had no time to lose just then, No, not a moment there to waste ; A sign I placed for all to view : " Don't touch it, then there's naught to rue." An iron hot I placed below The warning sign in black, And hid, so none would know, A little distance back. Just then I heard a howl and whine From one who read the painted sign. The parson spied the rod, and reached — And dropped it down again — Then spoke not as in church he preached, Nor ended with amen. And so it went for quite a while — Each one behaved in noisy style. 12 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. UEOLA. These hoary crags, these aged hills At eve in sorrow moan ; A legend whispers in its chills Of two who died alone ; It tells of two, a youth and maid, Who married years ago ; Two Indian hearts once did evade A father's promised blow. It tells of how her native heart For home began to yearn ; They sought the place of nature's art, Her native lodge and bourn ; How on a lofty, rounded mound Fot rest they sought at night, How then her father's warriors found And slew them both in spite. And as I stand upon this place Where blood bedewed the sod, I fancy here a word of grace Comes down from our great God. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 13 FRAGMENTS. Sweet praise is bitter, too, If list you must to words untrue; A friend's advice some fault to mend Is better far that fault to end. A thought to action often leads The higher thoughts to better deeds; But, if the thought be wrong in all, If left unsaid needs no recall. There is an aim in each man's fate, Tho humble he may be; If none were small could one be great, Above both you and me? Sweet pansy blossom, pure and fair, Growing by the way, When will the frost king cease to spare Taking life away? Will you, immortal, bloom again On the other shore? And fairer than down in the glen? Tell me, I implore. 14 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. In sorest need, man stands alone; In greatest might, his friends remain. Do right, and raise your moral tone, Let friendship come or friendship wane. WAR. Where is thy glory, or is there but shame? Where is thy honor, and where is thy fame? Is it in slaying, and burning the land? Is it in misery or heartless command? There is no glory for mortal, tho brave, Killing his brother and flogging a slave; Leaving a widow in sorrow and pain, Starving sweet children, leaving no gain. There is no wisdom to kill and debase: There is no justice in murderous chase; There is small courage deserting a wife, 2s or is there much glory to enter the strife. Leaving a mother, aged and poor, Feeble and gray, such woes to endure. Fight for your homes, your mothers and wives — Let others have theirs, and spare them their lives ! A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 15 EVANESCENCE AND PERMANENCE. The fragrant breeze that fans along Is sweet to some because 'tis new ; Some friends are kind in word and song When new; but fade as morning dew. Some hopes are born to live on high, While others wane ana pine away ; Some win success and shall not die, AVhile others at the bottom stay. A MIDNIGHT REVERIE. I thought of the days that are golden, Of the days of the merry and gay ; Of the joy and the bliss of the olden Time that has now passed away. I thought of the brook and the meadow, The woods that were green — now bare; I thought of the lake in the moonlight, Of those who w r ere singing, so fair. 16 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. As I see, in my dreaming, the sunshine That once on me so radiantly fell, Mine eyes are wet with the weeping That my heart in its grief cannot quell. The friends of today are not dearer Than those whom I loved in the past ; Their smiles, tho sweet, are not fairer Than the smiles that tenderly last. For my heart was blithe in those moments, Was free from the trials and pain That come from a life of longing — From a hope that is looked for in vain. ROUGH RIDERS AT EL CANEY. Brave boys ! you won a field of glory — Each one a hero on that day ; Not need you legend, tale or story To tell of fiery, flaming fray. Who dare impute the spangled banner, By freedom's valor set apart, When Western heroes, in their manner, Dare to stand with honor's heart ? A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 17 Can Grecian urn reveal more honor, Or Roman sword a better steel, Than fought in Cuba's bloody corner And made the tyrants fairly reel ? Rough Rider heroes ! ye were the daring Who dared to stand for Cuba's right ; When death around you all was staring, Ye fought in Freedom's certain might. COURTSHIP IN THE GRASS. The sun shone down in balmy June, When Nature perfect seems to be; No gay apparel out of tune, But all in festive glee. The gallant came with some conceit, And of his person made display — Presumptive in each awkward feat: He thought his feathers were so gay. She, too, bewildered, made some show, Became elated, tried to act ; Too pleased because she had a beau, She seemed to smile each time he quacked. But soon another came to woo, And jerked the grass so sweet and green, 18 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. And she at once became as true As to the other on the scene. The last quacked louder than the first, Became the favorite by her side — Ot eight she chose, it seems, the worst — Yet felt so proud to be his bride. And when their brood rilled up the nest Her webfoot mate looked with surprise; A single life to him seemed best — For once he thought he'd been unwise. The webfoot offspring were a source Of hinder to his fancied fame, And so he left upon his course, And thought the mother was to blame. There's more than one who's fooled this way, And more than one who is untrue, And leaves them all to roam and stray Among the reeds, with friends but few. A ROMANCE FROM THE FARM. When yonder sun sets in the west, When in repose and blissful rest The warbler sleeps in joy replete, Then may I dream that life is sweet. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 19 Then may the dreams of boyhood's games Return, and with them come their joys ; Each one to some fond hope lays claims, And oft we wish that we were boys. The good old school, the dear old lawn, The fence we climbed to sing at noon, We miss them now since they are gone — The ones who made the time go soon. Sweet Nellie was a maiden fair. Her dress was neat in costly wear ; Her face a true and noble mould — Her father rich in grain and gold. We went to school from day to day ; Of clothes and style she had the best; For I was poor, not rich as they. And yet in class I led the rest. As time went on she went alone, For I must work out in the field ; 1 raked the hay 'mong rock and stone To gather in the meadow's yield. She finished school, to college went, And learned her Greek and Latin lore ; And often on his weary hoe was bent The one she loved those years before. Four years passed by and back she came, A lady, graceful and refined ; 20 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. I felt my humble lot a shame, She seemed the idol of my mind. We met there in the same old glen Where we had often met before ; She only smiled, but not as then — I sighed ; I knew it was no more. THE SILENT VOICE. There is a voice that speaks so mildly That we can hear, if list we will ; It comes from wood and prairie wildly, It never causes woe nor ill. It speaks in summer hours, From leaf and blushing flowers, In autumn haze And fading days. The rose in June or bud of sweetness, Each has the story oft to tell, Each lily growing, with completeness Repeats the secrets of the dell. The birds sing loudly, praising; The flocks enjoy the grazing ; And old folks hope And cease to mope. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 21 MANHOOD. We find it easy for a person, Vile and low of mind, To find a fault in some poor sinner — Leaving Right behind. To speak of others who are sinful With a heart of stone ; In heaven yonder, we are promised, We must first atone. THE WINDS OF LIFE. Hear the sighing and the crying In the branches brown and bare ; Hear the moaning and the groaning Of the ghastly Autumn air. Death and sorrow seem to borrow Of the air a ghoulish tongue, Which, in shrieking and in creaking, Tells of hearts that once were wrung. What a presage in this message, In this tale oft told before, Oft entreated, oft repeated, With a sweetness to implore ! tl A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. And in childhood, in the wildwood, When the trees were fresh and green, How our greetings and our meetings Were in friendship sweet, serene. In the dawning of the morning, When the warblers sang their lays ; When the bea ning and the gleaming Dewdrops sparkled in the rays : When the flowers from the bowers In rich sweetness spread their scent, How I pondered as I wandered, On my journey ever bent. All before me, 'neath and o'er me, I must dare if I would win ; All, in summing, then is coming — What success can I begin ? Xeed I glory, or the gory Hundred battle fields of shame ? God will show me, well and slowly, How to gather righteous fame. Cannot beauty come from duty, And a word of praise be said For the armor of the farmer And the peaceful that are dead ? Hear the sweeping and the creeping Of the chilly Autumn blast ; Now the ending that was pending, Coming onward, comes at last. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 2 Not the sweetness, hope's completeness, Still my weary heart pervades ; 'Mid the clangor of the languor For the ceasing which it aids, There's no feeling when the pealing Of the church bell tolls the end ; Not a passion nor a fashion Stops the hour when we bend. Time eternal, love supernal, Blessings of a saintly rest, There in stillness and in chillness Lies the body of the blest ; Then the kindness which reminds us Of the friends who went before Shall be cherished and be nourished On that bright and blissful shore. A LONG TIME AGO. I was a child and so was she, Long years ago ; And tho but young and she so wee, 1 loved her so. We played by brooks in balmy June Both young and gay ; We sang the same old childish tune, At work or play. 24 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. Those days, like sunshine in the soul. In loTe appear ; And now, at eve, a quiet stroll Has lost that cheer. LAYS OF NATURE. The air was fragrant on an early morn. The sky a softened gray ; Each gentle breeze, by angels softly borne, Tanned past the sweet array. The twittering birds, up in the trees, Sang soothing songs to man — Who would not choose to list to these — If mortals would that can ! This world, so often sad with blame and care, Now seemed a tranquil scene ; The roses blushing, and the lilies fair, Were happy and serene. What grace to stand, a mute admirer here; To be so near to God ! O, for the power of greater sphere To live beyond the sod ! A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 25 AN EVENING WITH MY ALBUM. On a midnight, weak and weary. Thinking of the happy days of yore, I sat looking at my album As I oft had done before. As I, wondering of the morrow, What new friendships I should gain. Turning pictures of my loved ones, I began to feel a pain. There were father and my mother Side by side — I saw them smile ! How I long again to meet them — They who spread no rumor vile. Turning over to the foremost, As in order there they came. There I saw an oft seen picture, Who, in features, was the same. There I saw a deep-souled maiden. Still as pensive and serene ; On her lips some word seemed spoken ; In her eyes the sunlight sheen. How her hair, in wavy ringlets, 4 26 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. Loosely on her shoulders fell ; How that high and noble forehead Seemed her soul foretell. There lives memory, there its history Sacred, dear, sublime. Tho in tears it now is written, No effect it bears of time. There was hope and there it faded ; There it lingered, there it died ; And the world of much and many Seems so narrow — once so wide. SINCE MARY HAS GONE. She was humble, I was poor ; We worked and walked thru life content; Each hardship well I could endure ; Each to the other's comfort lent. The summer heat, the winter cold, I heeded not, 'twas joy to be ! I had a treasure, if not of gold — I held a woman's love in fee. But now 'tis changed ; since she has gone I miss her face where'er I go ; A veil of sorrow has been drawn Around me here on earth below. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 27 THE INDIAN MOUND. Here lie at rest, in slumbers deep, The knaves of darkest crimes of yore ; No more in ambush can they creep , Nor children with their dirk-knives gore. No more the cry and savage yell, Nor cruel murders stain their hands ; For man is free from heathen hell As soon as justice rules the lands. THE WELKIN BANNER. Brave Flag ! The emblem of the Free ! Float ever o'er this land and me ! Thy heroes sleep beneath the turf Where none shall tread the tread of serf. Brave Flag ! The banners of the seas ! Float o'er the waters in the breeze. How dear to me, that flag of fame, With Freedom as her native name I A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. UNDER THE FLOWERS. In the valley, 'neath the bowers. In the wood. nong the no Where lilies and daisies grow. Sleeps a soldie- Patriotic, noble-hearted, now departed — .ere lilies and daisies grow. Bests a soldier in his grave. Birds are singing o'er him sweetly. On his tombstone sitting neatly — ss and d:, row, While he THE AS ALL FLOWER'S LAMENT. It seems so hard to sit and e These young and thoughtless things All being wc leaving me — And yet I wear more rings. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 2t> If men are sold, why can't I sell ? I only ask but one ; They linger near some so-called belle, And me they seem to shun. I'm sure I'd love — no matter whom : Tho crooked, lean or lame ; They always give me lots of room — I think it is a shame. They tip their hats to other girls, While me they try to pique ; I'm sure we wear the same priced curls, Yet me they call antique. Had I a home with children eight Or ten or twelve or more, I'd keep them strict from morn till late Or mop with them the floor. But no ! A mate I can not find. Away from home nor near ; Each man in love is always blind — Can neither see nor hear. FATE. Why must it be that two are born, One to sin and one to grace ? 30 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. Why one, a pastor, old and worn, Loved by all around his place ? The other — hated by his kin, Left in shame to die alone — Yet both began without a sin : One to smile and one to groan. TRUE WORTH. I've always thought, and still I think, An honest heart is best ; And more than pride and cheek of pink The form in plainness dressed. And he who flaunts in lavished wealth And boasts of noble birth, May pine, in want of glowing health, Which more than gold is worth. He may be praised, 'tis true he may, For wealth and kindred great ; But every lord shall wane some day ; The grave shall know his fate. Xor can his pilfered riches buy The arm by labor bold ! A genial smile, an honest eye, Is more than dingy gold. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 31 SAD, YET DEAR. In breathless sleep my hope lies there Beneath that turf, and in that grave ; The voice that spoke in meeker air Is hushed today that heaven gave. I can not meet, nor can I say A word to one beyond our sphere ; We long for those of yesterday — Perhaps — because — they are not here. THE REAL IDOL. Go ask the man who tills the soil, Who plods and bends beneath his toil, The reason why he groans today. Go ask the man who delves in mines, The things for which he delves and pines ; Or ask the actress, proud and gay. Go ask the farmer, old and worn ; Or merchants keen, what they would earn ; Go ask why all rush on in life. 32 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. The truth is this : wealth is the goal. And this desire has full control. 'Tis this we see which causes strife. DUST TO DUST. Here lies the hope and human woe, In death so rigid, cold and bare, Of one whose fate we do not know ; His soul has gone — we know not where. Fair hope had fed ambition's flame, The living tire in death put out ; No more it burns, and mortal fame Has fluttered by upon its route. Frail hope, whose light had spread within, Has led this mortal on his way ; This form, now laid to rest therein, Has hoped as we — returned to clay. THE GOSSIP. In social circles oft we find Some human beings to honor blind ; Some busy tongues their venom spread, And spare no name, alive nor dead, A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 33 Some speak of style, some speak of sense, While others prate at their expense : Some talk of morals, low and vile, And insincere they spread their guile. For shame to deck the measly head With sacred plumes, and feign be wed To heaven's groom while here on earth. Your aim is void of real worth. ROSE OF TRAVERSE. Sweet little Rose, so young and fair. A maiden rare to see, Was often in the summer air As happy as could be. She was a girl as good and true, As you can find today. But shadows came o'er skies of blue And Rose soon pined away. A saint, no doubt, were not more void Of sin and lust than she ; Yet all her future was destroyed — A wreck out on life's sea. Her tears, so bright, were shed in vain Remorse was not her woe ; 5 34 A VOICE OF THE PKAIRIE. She had no blot nor moral stain — But Fate, it seems, was so. Each life has springtime in its youth. Each thinks it comes to stay ; At last, too late, it learns the truth That beauty fades away. Sweet Rose is sleeping in the vale Where flowers grow and bloom, And hushed forever is her wail Within her narrow room. A VISION FROM THE UNKNOWN. On a midnight I sat thinking, With my books beside me there ; In the air a ghastly stillness Seemed to brood of deep despair. And the lamplight, shining brightly, Thru the window cast its beams Into darkness, sullen, silent, As a light for grewsome dreams. As I sat there, thinking, thinking, Something seemed to call aloud ; As I drew aside the laces, There a maid stood in her shroud. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 35 On her face a lovely pallor, In her hand I saw a rose ; There in space she stood suspended, Garbed in locks and snow white clothes. WHEN THE TIME HAS COME. When you and I have seen our last — Have gone our journey thru — When every flitting day has past, And every friend we knew ; Then, in the silent rest of death, Our forms, confined and pale, Shall lie without the hopeful breath To banish sigh and wail. O, pause and think of life's last fate That each of us must share, And think of that eternal state, And how our forms must fare. The vain coquette, with eyes of blue. Her cheeks so rosy, sweet. And all her other charms to sue — Fate all, beneath the sod shall meet. The sternest hand that sways the rod Shall .soon decay, as those before ; 36 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. The strongest will shall bow to God And do his duty, held in store. Ah, friend ! We soon shall go, Shall join the endless train ; We gather what we sow — The deeds of brawn and brain. THE PRAIRIE HOME. There stands a cottage on the prairie wide, Where children play around the door. A matron stands upon the threshhold low And looks upon the wavy grain around. The trees are few and straggling in the wind Which blows with heat up from the south ; The grass begins to turn to yellow-brown, And dries and curls beneath the sun. A buggy rolls along the road near by But halts before the door, and then the driver bows ; They meet — are friends — and he comes from the east And brings the news of home and friends. He is as handsome as before When, years ago, he was her own. But Maggie's face is worn and sad With toil and care and sorrow's pain. ^^'AhJA^M^ A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 37 That eve they talked of life back east, Of school days, wildwood, brook and mill Of church and church yard, and the lake — The dear old haunts of childhood fair. But not one word about the wooden gate That moonlight eve of long ago. And why ? The reason — need we say ? We need not echo what each has felt. With pain she sees her husband there, Whose favorite is his smoky pipe ; Whose only theme the field and beast : Ah, who could love a soul like his V The morrow comes, the friend departs, And Maggie by his buggy stands, as oft before : "Why, Harry, did we quarrel down by the 'gate? * I can not speak ; I have no right as then ; But, Harry, both then made a grave mistake." "Yes, Maggie, but it is too late ; Those days will ne'er return to us again — We failed to see — dear friend, goodby. How often, in our blindness, we have hoped in vain ; Have fancied love and pleasure — found but grief ; 38 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. In anger parted from each other's side, But not forgotten, for our memory lives Forever in our hearts. The flower that fades is sad to see, When treasured thru our younger years ; Why weep ? Ah, where is he who will not If tho his tears be shed in vain ? TWO HEARTS. Two hearts to throb in life together, Two hopes to live as one ; Two souls to brave each clime and weather, To love as hearts have done. From youth to age, in life's long living, In fancy's lovely scene, A tender love each other giving Thru life — a hope serene. ON THE BANKS OF THE MISSOURI. A stranger stands on the banks of the Missouri And hears the wind a whisper breathe ; A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 39 He thinks of home, his wife and child ; — A picture of a lilied wreath Comes as he thinks of elm leaves wild On the Hudson far away. This stranger weeps on the banks of the Missouri ; He dreams of mill and winding glen — He sees his mother kind and true And longs as he awakes again, To live his boyhood days anew On the Hudson far awav. IN THE MOONLIGHT ON BIG STONE LAKE. There are fond recollections of the past That come to us from days gone by ; And memory speaks in whispers soft and low Of evenings 'neath the starry sky. We oft remember when the dreamy waves Swept by the boat wherein we sang, And how the shady bowers echoed back The song so sweet and how it rang ; And as the morn in splendor rose above The hills that overawe the lake, 40 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. O, how it shone those evenings bright and clear It seemed to shine for her sweet sake. I hear the selfsame whisper of the waves, They seem as soft, as sweet and low, And still it seems as tho beside me, here, That maiden sings as long ago. Where'er I roam, it matters little where, In cities where the stir is great, Or in the vale 'mong roses and the bees Where warbling birds are heard till late ; Yet in my heart I long for old Big Stone Where Indians roamed in days of yore, Where brooklets murmur 'neath the rustling leaves The legend strange forevermore. And when I think of those untrue and false, Her eyes like dew beam twice as bright ; An honest girl is more than millions worth Who do not hold a given plight. It seems I see her dark brown curls hang loose, The ring she wore still sparkles fair ; The old guitar she played, I dream I hear And long to join the dulcive air. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 41 THE MARK OF A COMMAND. A well known composer and author sat one evening by the fire, as it crackled and burned in a tavern, in a small town located out west ; that he should be found so far from any large city with its attractions might be wondered at, were it not for the fact that his train had been blockaded by the snowfall, which had been unusually great at this place. As he preferred the tavern to staying in the passenger car, he lodged here. I was, too, on that train, and likewise availed myself of the opportunity of securing a night's rest. This was one of the towns I make in handling a line of clothing for a big establishment in Chicago, and after making my report and fixing my samples I came down to listen to the illustrious man, whom I imag- ined was one of the few truly happy on earth? and I thought I would like to have Jennie, my wife, listen to him ; she is so much inter- ested in literature. The office contained but the author, the landlord and myself ; the others who came up with us having gone to another hotel. The wind howled piteously and the fire burned brightly as the man with deep, impres- 42 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. sive eyes began as he drew closer to the fire : "Years ago, well I remember, I was then unknown to the world, having taught in a village school for two years. I remember when the new teacher came walking up the street with my former assistant ; we were three in number and were going to do our best for the town in this prospective year. Time wore on and the new teacher gained in popularity, and I appreciated that, for one reason or another. I had begun to seek op- portunities to speak to her. She reciprocated, and I soon learned of her kind, sweet and gentle ways ; her respect for her father and of her willingness to obey. Well, no one knew me as any one but the "Professor," and altho Mary liked my verses, and was moved to tears by their pathos, her father, who was a sturdy old farmer, declared he was surprised at finding "the Perfesser writin' such foolish stuff," and remarked that I must be "a little bit off." But when he heard that Mary thought otherwise, and that she no longer smiled on the little, spry Metho- dist preacher, the old farmer's wrath knew no bounds. He met me after four in the aft- ernoon for an interview, in which I told him to mind his own affairs ; and he told after* A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 43 wards that although I wrote "stuff," I didn't stand "tampering with." My impression on him was not, however, very satisfactory, for he insisted on Mary wedding the keen little pastor, and as I moved to a higher salaried position I heard nothing of Mary or her husband for whom I had no respect. Well, often as the last beauteous rays of sunset would linger, I would think of Mary and a twinge of envy would come to me as I thought of her graceful form walking down the pathway of Life with that slender theo- logian. We, authors, never were known for our propensity for belief, nor yet, for our sanct- ity, so of course my apathy for preachers in- creased somewhat. On one of my lecturing tours I found my- self in a town of about fifteen hundred or so, and learned that Mary was the minister's wife at the place. And sure enough as my lecture hour was about to begin, in filed Mary. O, what a change! old and haggard in her face and six children of all sizes and sexes, each bearing the features of their father. I delivered my lecture with unusual force and I noticed Mary sat with her face covered. 44 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. After I was thru with my lecture I went down and shook hands with her and when I asked how she was getting along she quoted Whittier: "Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies Deeply buried from human eyes : And, in the hereafter, angels may Roll the stone from its grave away!" She had obeyed her father's wish and had ruined her life ; as once before, we wept to- gether. God pity Mary and pity every one who yields to others, only to live in misery." Here the great man stopped and as he closed his chamber-door, we knew that sorrows follow the great. I peered thru the window, the storm was still raging in the dark, and the lamp still cast its light about the room. I wrote a long letter to Jennie and soon after received answer to the effect that I must not get lone- some nor melancholv. AMONG THE GRAVES. Last night as I sat by my window and gazed at the twinkling stars out in the icy sky, and felt the silence in my library, my thoughts A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 45 reverted to days gone by. An incident recur- red to me of which I will tell you. The day in question was one of rare calmness and it seemed to be one which should be well remembered. Mary Clarke lived a distance from town, in a fine house on a farm, and to her home we were invited to spend the afternoon. Three of us walked out there, Jessie, Irene and I. Jessie was a fine declaimer, and Irene a trained vocalist, and so we passed the afternoon and evening very pleasantly with various numbers. But Mr. Beversley, an attorney without a case, was there, trying to display his assumed sagacity, and trying to be attentive to Mary. We at last took leave and started for town, and as the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, I proposed to go directly for town. But the attorney had some difficulty in pronouncing the last word to Mary, so we left him to come alone. The way we took led thru the cemetery, and as it was becoming darker it became a rather grew- some way. In the center, running through it, was a ravine, and when we reached it a mournful cry was heard. "Woo-oo-oo," came the ghastly appeal. "Woo-oo!" Irene whispered hoarsely, "What is that cry?" and drew nearer. "Let's get out of 46 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. here," whispered Jessie. "No, we will go up and find out what is up there," I suggested, and up we went. "Wo-oo-oo-oo!" This time the cry was so inhuman, and as I saw the tombstones in the gloomy light a shudder went over me. "Woo-oo-oo! oh, oh, woo-oo!" The girls pressed close to me but uttered not a word. "Woo-oo!" It came from among the tombstones, and as we drew nearer it grew more and more plaintive. We kept on and I fancied I could see skeletons whose bleak jaws were clattering repioof to the intruders. Some pale monument would take a human form and point its invective finger at me while from its eye-sockets came fearful* ghoulish glances. Soon, howevery, the mys- tery cleared away, and there on a newly dug grave lay a dog, mourning his dead master. What a praise for the dead one below to have the affection of that humble, sorrowing heart! Irene burst into tears and soon we were all wiping away tears, and I know I felt such an emotion creep over me as is hard to describe. We left after futile efforts to persuade the animal to follow us. Next day we heard the attorney telling of how he had heard a strange sound the even- ing before, but did not have time to investi- A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 47 gate. He forgot to tell that he run all the way home as fast as he could as soon as he heard that piteous "Woo-oo!" THE HAUNTED MANSION. It was in the month of October ; the leaves had fallen ; the flowers had long since faded away ; the sky was hazy and the sun set among golden beams ; the windows seemed to be on fire. The evening was chilly and as we drew near the fire we could see in the General's face evidence that he would relate something to us and sure enough he began: "I was thinking of a time, years ago ; it was after a bloody battle had been fought. I remember how I came across the fields with several members of my staff ; we came up to a large farm-house where we intended to make our quarters over night, as it was getting late. The farmer was very civil— they are all civil when they have to! We sat down to a good meal and 1 made my orders, wrote two dis- patches and, let me see, and, sent a messenger after some articles 1 had in the van. The old farmer began telling us stories after supper as the rest went out to milk the 48 A VOICE OF THE PKAIRIE. cows. He felt honored at having a Colonel at his place he said, but would wager I hadn't ; sand enough' to take him up on a bet. iXow it has always gone against the grain with me to have anyone propose a thing I dare not undertake, so 1 asked him to explain. He told that around the bend of the road was an old stone house or mansion and that it was haunted. I took his wager and he, carry- ing a lantern, we walked up the road. My officers insisted on going along and seeing the fun. As we passed by the tall elm trees grow- ing by the way, the old farmer told us that six- teen or seventeen years previous to our walk- ing up the road, an old man had been killed by some robbers who once terrorized the country surrounding. He also informed us that no one who had sought lodging in the old mansion since the murder of the owner had ever been heard of. This, of course, was interesting to me. When we at last reached the old house, the farmer pried open the massive door and we were in a high and long room ; at the farther end was a door, and brushing some cobwebs aside, we soon gained an entrance to another room ; here were pictures hanging A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 49 on the walls, dusty and neglected ; in one corner was an old fashioned sofa and here we prepared to make my bed. The farmer left us with a lamp we had taken along with us. As he walked back we could see his lantern dimly thru the dirty- looking windows. The wind howled piteousiy and the moon shone only at intervals, heavy clouds obscuring it. There were two with me, brave boys and tho my aides, we always, when away from immediate duty, called each other by the first name. There was room on the sofa for but two and as we needed rest, not knowing what the morrow might bring, I advised them to go down to the farm house and to come up if news from the ranks demanded me. The boys left, for tho there was some ro- mance in stopping, yet laying on the cold door soon made the matter rather prosaic, They had gone but a short time when j left for dreamland and was just dreaming of little Nellie, our youngest at home, when I awoke. O, how I loaged for home ! But my longing was of short duration when I heard coming down the stairway iteps un- 50 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. mistakably that of some old man. I thought of my situation and made ready for my neighbor, when a gust of wind blowing thru the window blew out my lamp and only the faint glimmer of the moon lit up the room. The door opened and into the room stepped a gray bearded man armed with a long, glittering knife. He made straight for the sofa. "Halt !" I cried, "or down comes your house that you live in !" He drew up haugh- tily and asked : "Who is master here?" "I can't help that, but if you come any closer I'll show you who is corpse here, 5 ' I returned holding a thirty-eight in my hand ready for service. He raised his knife high in the air ! ... . and just then I felt a soft white hand placed on my shoulder. It was Mamie's, and when she told her brother to go to bed I realized I had dreamed a fanciful dream, and I noticed that our old friend, the general, had [gone to bed before and that the story he was to tell he had postponed for a time when he felt like telling "war yarns." A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 51 THE LAST OF A CENTURY. The age is done, its life an evolution; Humanity has struggled, worn off fetters; Yet, in face of this, made new ones. Thought is free, hope is glowing, Even the pessimist hopes! Society has faults, has evils, But not as many ; Potentates have power, then lie In their gore— no man is good Enough to rule— a tyrant ; Riches accumulate on earth, But not in heaven ; Titles are given to favorites But names stop at the grave ; Religion must not compel The fabricated form, Or regulate a prayer — But man shall evolve, Be good, be true, be noble Because 'tis good to do good; And ages to come shall say : "Tou will end well as you started right." 52 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. THE OCEAN OF TIME. Today has closed and gone forever, The ocean, Time, rolls on; The years that we have lived are billows That to the shore have gone. Our friends, our early friends, have left us, And strangers take their place; We leave and generations follow Forever in this race. The breakers near the port of Heaven, Shall tell us of a day Where waves shall never keep us wondering: How long shall be our stay. This foamy main where lives are tossing, Has on each side a shore; — From one we came, to one we wander Where we ne'er were before. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 53 AWAY ON A SUNBEAM. Our Marie was everybody's sweetheart, A child so tender and true — Ringlets, wavy and rich in their color, And eyes that were heavenly blue; One day as the prairie was stormy, Our sweetheart so patient, took ill Beyond human power to save her, It seemed 'twas Heaven's own will. In memory I see Grandma still reading From Marie's little book as the snow fell, She did as the child had requested And it pleased the patient so well. We stood round the dear, little angel, Just at the close of that day, The sunset gilded the window With its golden ray; It seemed that the sweet bells of Heaven Were ringing away in the air, . And calling home to them a spirit Tn the twilight so fair. My heart, it was sad and was bitter, anguish, a fierce burning flame, To f bink of that suffering darling T 1 of Death in its clutches would claim. 54 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. Her sweet face, it shone in its splendor, Its expression by angels bestowed, A breath and it all was past and was over, And gone was her pain and her load. Heaven had then one more angel And Earth here below had one less, She sleeps in her bed on the hillside, Robed in her snowwhite laces and dress. O, I dream of the flakes that came falling That icy-cold midwinter night That spread over her its crystalline cover, While above it the stars twinkled bright. HIS PEDIGREE. People are cautious about what they do not have; people take an interest in health when they are about to turn over the keys to their successors, and I know a fellow who was bald- headed morally; he was always busy talking about what he did not have as tho he had it. His neighbors looked over his pedigree and found where he had held down a position for five years; they found that people took such interest in his safety that a guard and gun were detailed to watch over him while he A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 55 slept (I mean the man with the pedigree) and a second term was spoken of as an endorse- ment of the first. This young man became the appendix to the society of our good old fash- ioned town. He was a genuine "chappie' and sang the latest coon-songs, and our innocent and blushing maidens whose lips had never been pressed by the caress of betrayal, began to have a nasty, gaunt, feeling around the vena cava eater-corner from the aorta. Along about the holidays, the good folks had a revival in the church and the chappie led the fad of joining the flock, not as they did when it was permissible for girls to be called Alary instead of Mayme; when Alice did not lace her name up to Alys and her father had not yet assumed the "swell" name of Daddi- cus nor Pappica. The chappie knelt down with a sanctified look; his spirits he had on the in- side of his coat-pocket — had the parson seen it, it would have contained an eye-opener for him also. Now it so happened that a certain black- smith, a good workman and a kind-hearted father, Mr. Christensen by name, had a daugh- ter whose name was once Lovisa Christensen but who now crimped and painted under the nom de plume, Louise Chrysteen, altho she 56 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. was but eighteen. The chappie met her and a take-off followed. Mamma thot all the time he was not altogether proper for Lovisa, but Louise Chrysteen, graduate of the village high school and neglecter of supper, breakfast and dinner dishes, thot he was entirely superbly magnificent. Well, on every public occasion the two were seen together, and on several private ones for that matter. One day Lovisa confided to mamma that the two were "engaged" and that they wished to be married. Papa wore a serious look as he thot it would be hard for him to support another son, and to ask the dear "chappie" to work in the shop would be distinctly utterly utter. But his worry was soon dismissed for about eight o'clock that evening a "chum" of Louise Chrysteen came and in badly conceal- ed triumph told her that a sheriff had taken him on a trip on the six o'clock train. "Taken whom?" cried Louise. "Why your own true love, he was taken away on a charge of for- gery of which he had been duly convicted. Fifteen years await the escaped convict. I thot I would come over to tell you so you would not be shocked when others told you," re- plied her friend. Next Sunday Louise Chrysteen signed her A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 57 name Lovisa Christensen in the Sunday-school book. The dishes are washed, the house kept neat, and mamma has an easy time of it. If any intelligent young man, who can verify his pedigree comes along, who is reasonably good- looking, he will find a blue-eyed girl in our town who is loved by every one around her, and who would make a faithful wife even tho she is not as innocent as when she first wrote Louise Chrysteen. THE DISEASE. I have never found common sense judgment to fail, and so try it as some apply cure-alls. My friend, William, has great faith in doctors and stomach bitters. He once rubbed the raf- ters of his lungs with some eye-water I had, and it proved an eye-opener to him. He was always a student of medicinal almanacs and a weekly contributor to the funds of the patent medicine man. He believed he was sick and so he was, but his malady was "doctoring." I remember one fine day in June, William came down with the idea of pulmonary indigestion or something like that as he called it. In 58 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. other words rare pure atmosphere did not agree with him, he could not, he said, assimi- late it properly, and so the Doctor called. William stuck out his tongue at the Pill-sage. It cost him $10, but he did it — he might have known it would. I thot all the time that it was a breach of etiquette — financial etiquette I believe in doctors, I think that they are fine things to have around in case of a coro- ner's inquest or during a mother-in-law's ill- ness, it relieves the family so, both financially and socially. Taking medicine implies certain conditions; first, you must take your medicine, then you must wait to see how an unsuspecting stom- ach feels about it. Then as it simmers and boils, you can amuse yourself by calculating the doctor's bill or listen to the wise remarks of some old nanny who can give you a dozen remedies, each of which is worse than the trouble you are trying to cure. I believe pure air, several cubic feet of it, will cure more troubles than all the lung oint- ments I ever saw. I believe bread, milk, po- tato, and beefsteak, are better to build up worn-out tissue than all the pills, sarsaparillas, salves, and electric belts I ever saw, heard, or had the nightmare over. I like my food in the A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 59 good old fashioned way and do not care to take it in the form of tonics or capsules. However, medical science has made great strides towards perfection; new diseases with serious and difficult names have sprung up. You can have an arm or leg taken off now without pain; all you have to do it to smell of a handkerchief, recline, and take a much need- ed nap, while the surgeon prunes off what is not absolutely necessary for you to live in. I have seen several human abbreviations walk- ing around and I have felt a feeling within me that was strongly in contrast to what a fellow feels when he sees a fellow other than himself, glide variously upon a banana-peeling. Now, doctors and mothers-in-law are neces- sary ingredients to trouble; if you are sick you need the doctor; if you are married you have the mother-in-law. If a man takes precaution (in time) he. can avoid them. I have heard of men taking after the doctor, of children taking after their parents and so on, but did you ever see a fellow take after his mother-in-law? I dare say that was more spirited. We know what we have, but we cannot al- ways tell what we will not get. If we eat three good, wholesome meals, sleep eight hours twenty minutes per day, we are apt to do well 60 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. and live well. Of course I do not have a grudge against the doctors nor hospitals, nor do I advocate children being taught the scien- ces in the cradle as a nullifier of pedagogues. I simply remark that I do not care to have them overworked. Returning to the subject of tongues, I think it inelegant for an antique, old and vociferous maiden to protrude her unruly member to an unwarranted distance the minute a young doc- tor comes to see her — ah, if that tongue could repeat what it had voiced, all in one word, would it not be a jaw-breaker! If tongues like ox-horns had rings to show their age would not some be ringers! Ring out the old, ring in the new! Fingers are not like horns in that respect altho some are skinny to a marked degree. It is remarkable what surprlus flesh some have — why it is so I cannot see. I, for my part, cannot see why one person should be entitled to so much space and others so very little. Do you comprehend why people who sit down much, flatten out so much? And yet one can see a reason why skinny folks are apt to run around and stir up strange sensations; they have a facility for perambulation and as they are not weighty in any one place, they Mt. Rainier. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 61 appear often. Cotton blows by the shifts of wind. But, in closing, I wish to be understood as repeating, we cannot help what we are. I might add that it is pretty hard to be censured for what we are not. THE MUSIC TEACHER. I have noticed that some bashful people are not always timid, timidity is very harmful in asking for credit or in courtship. Not long ago I was thrown into the pres- ence of a personage; it is dangerous to be thrown because it affects a fellow's nerves, fall where he may, especially if he falls in with a music-teacher. But it is more serious to fall out — a falling out is more serious than a falling in. She sat down to the piano and began swing- ing to and fro, until she began dreaming a pair of nightmares; occasionally you could hear the clater of hoofs as the colts romped around, then a motherly whinny on the bass brot them back. Then she began playing a piece from Eu- rope; it seemed like an immigrant, so unusual, 62 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. and it made me feel creepers up my scapulae, but I felt I must show great delight and a critical look on my face in order to maintain my musical reputation as I had noticed others do in the same predicament. She then played a piece that made me think of an October rain and sleet, mud and unre- turned umbrellas. Then she came to the first crossing where she blew off considerable steam and jerked the bell once or twice; after regaining control" of her hands and wearing them on their cus- tomary sides she played an Irish melody until everything turned green; when I came to, I noticed I had come to her arms. I was armed to the teeth — I had to face the powder — O dear! By the way, those were her very words. O. to be as grand as she! But of course I wouldn't want to be as slender nor would I wish to be romping around in skirts with such a stir and bustle these cold days! My own pantaloons suit me better. What was said I cannot just tell, besides it would lack interest to the public as most of the remarks were personal. She was a great musician, she played a piece in four flats from basement to way up in G; she played superbly on the piano, the only A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 63 playing I do superbly, is when I hold a royal flush. I shall never forget her as she waved me goodbye as I ran home in the rain. McROBES. The editor wore a grim look on his face when the marshal nailed a quarantine notice on the door where, in the rear of the building, two dressmakers were working. He ran over to the drugstore for a fumigat- ing remedy which he applied internally, as well as externally. He assumed a familiar air, an air he always assumed when he came from the drugstore. After fumigating the door which led into the dressmaking apartment, he read an article on smallpox, then arose to dis- infect the devil. The poor helpless devil threw up her hands and swallowed a big lump in her throat, then fainted trustingly into his arms. A fearful odor arose from a bottle with a word on it that was hard to pronounce. The errand boy went on an errand he had postponed for three days and forty-three minutes. The old cat arched his back, gave a terrific sneeze and 64 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. followed a copy which blew out thru the win- dow. A hen in the yard seized an audacious microbe which impudently crawled up her back, and classified him with other eatbles. William was locked up in the pest house for indiscriminately wearing a pimple on his nose. A general quarantine was talked of, but the business men thot it unhealthful for their fall trade. The restaurant was quarantined, where- upon hungry citizens were running around for something to eat or somewhere to board — some boarded a train. Nothing but has its good sides; citizens were looking their best in new shirts and trousers after a fresh bath. All was tolerable until when the saloon was locked up; then a wail such as all Israel never heard, came up from the populace. The town went dry where one hundred majority had voted license! The Prohibitionists belonged to a party without an issue! As a result they put on mourning. The others were in mourn- ing, but they did not put it on — it was real; modesty forbade them wearing crepe. I still feel concerned when I feel one of those microbes leaping from vertebra to ver- tebra but of course at my age a person is not supposed to feel concerned at what occurs on his back. Before laying my pen down I wish A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 65 to add that there are to be two new openings this week in our town — both in good condition: a church and a saloon. Do not miss these openings and may the spirit within, do much good. May no one go home without being filled to the brim; let us be full of it and may our faces shine in joy and peace. WHEN DAD WUZ OUT. My sister got to sort o' sparkin' And a dude with watch and chain Used to sit and whisper awful sweetly And we young ones could not remain; There wuz a sort o' smacking In the parlor beyond a doubt, And it alius seemed to happen Well, when dad wuz out. We've kept them both here lately, They're married now you see; And they aint so awful lovin' As them days they used to be. I guess that Dad, he calculated The dude wuz rich about, But he's left on them plans and figures, So, now, Dad is out. 66 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. In the muddy months of April, Wuz a feller came to sell A lot of fruit trees and he sold us For he talked for quite a spell; Well, the cash wuz then invested, Wuz blowed without a doubt, For not a tree would start to growin' And Dad, — well he wuz out. A man came here to assess us, Now mother's proud, and so is I; So we put a solid price on matters, Then taxes came up too high; Well, sometime after came a politician, And to our side he wuz devout, We told him of a combination, And Dad, well he wuz out. IN LOVE. The worst thing said of one's person is that he is himself; I have often thot it would be a good thing if we could see ourselves as clearly as we see others. Magnetism draws things, beauty attracts, therefore it is magnetic. When we stop to ob- a voice of thh: prairie. 67 serve, we are struck by the number of things attracted by beauty. A friend of mine had a pretty little friend who attracted a big freckle-faced Irishman, that struck him hard; in other words, he used forceful arguments; my friend met a positive pole altho an Irishman. It has been said that women do not blush in the dark; I know very little about that, but I do know a person is in the dark when they do blush. It seems strange to see a wee little tug-boat take an old liner up to an ice-cream harbor all for a smile, it is a case of where you lead I will follow — magnetism is a great force in Nature, especially human nature. Attraction is a part of the attraction. Still Love is a great factor in religion and divorce courts. Things often end where they begin — love begins in courting and ends in court; there is a difference in judges and judgments. The decisions are generally the same — both wrong. Still, when a fellow looks back over the past years of wooing and jilting, he feels a queer sensation come crawling over him. And I might add how positive old bachelors and antediluvian old maids are that they never 68 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. loved nor acted sentimentally, yet disposition will crop out unawares — of all fools an old fool is the worst. When a fellow sinks knee deep into love his wits are comparatively shallow, they come to the surface all in a row and thru neglect of proper cultivation turn green in the brill- iant light of disinterested comment. And when they are gathered in the Fall we find them hard to pick up; it takes a great many to make a bushel. Love is a preliminary sensation which gener- ally settles down in the heart and is often dif- ficult of cure or remedy. Still, were it not for this gleam of Heaven most of us would have found birthday presents an empty dream. MARGARINE'S ESSAY. It is always interesting to me to see the children do well and when they come home from school it always pleases me to hear them talk of their school work; the other even- ing Margarine came home and told us that she must write an essay for the next day. Now I hope you will not accuse me of naming A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 69 that innocent child such a name as Margarine for, like you, I could see the absurdity of her going, when she grows up, with a fellow who would perhaps have the name of Ole. The government would tax such a combination. But, however, in this day fads are all the go, and so her mother named her. We have Mau- rine, Clorine, Norine, Catharine, Carosine and Vaseline and next we may expect Marine and Porkine, not to mention Gasoline and Cotto- lene. The next came the title of Margarine's es- say; her mother suggested "Domestic Sci- ence" while I thot "On The Garden Gate" would be suggestive. When Margarine's sweet face shown up in its expressive way, it brot her mother's once girlish looks back to me and I have associated one side of the old garden gate with that sweet expression and I dare say it clings fondly to me in my memory. Her mother was busy mending her jacket, while sitting near the table and my location was near the stove trying to fasten a heel on Margarine's shoe. Margarine was sitting at her little writing-desk which her father had given her for Christmas. She soon asked for ideas to put in her essay and so her mother and I gave her a few pointers. 70 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. After awhile pretty little Margarine looked up triumphantly and kissed her mamma and her papa for the help each had given her and then she handed her manuscript to me to read. Now I hope you will not censure me if in my pride I ask you to read what Margarine had written; I dare say it shows the influence of both a father and a mother upon the child and that is what I have always argued. I believe in both parents doing their duty and not one only. Here is Margarine's novel story: "Domestic Science on the Garden Gate." Domestic signs treat of the necessary duties and actions which occur in one's life down by the garden gate in after years in the golden moonlight. The difficulties that beset women in mastering the situation as they assume the graver and nobler duties of life make me look longingly for the eves of long ago when the breeze came drifting along accompanied by rolling pins and flatirons. It is the duty of the house-wife to keep things in their places and to make the home agreeable for the husband. Then as the sun would set in its splendor and the bars of soap (tar soap is best) would streak the mellow sky and the birds would hush and the flowers would close their sweet eyes and A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 71 go up stairs to sleep before it was time to, then Domestic Signs would be reduced to a state of perfection having been a territory for some time clamoring for admission into the Union. Great care should be taken in the rearing of the young on the old garden gate; too much precaution cannot be taken lest they fall upon the path and go down. So much depends upon the foundation as they swing out for them- selves. It may mean success or failure, who knows? Yes, I repeat it: Who knows? The old man in the hedgerow knows. Life has many trials and the garden gate is one of them. Baking-powder well mixed, will make your ideals rise and when placed in a hot oven your future will develop as the mould has been. The garden gate takes the cake every time. Life has many trials that leave scars and poor yeast has a distresing effect on the stomach. Rec- reation is a necessary item in life and the wash- board develops many causes for complaint. I never complained of any board until I struck the washboard. I remember the little babb- ling brook and the shady elms — in after years I have seen other things equally shady. A woman should be as well dressed as a thanks- giving turkey but I object to their being so 72 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. much taxidermied as heretofore, plus one more idea: It seems there is often too much put on about them. Real truth often lies so that you cannot believe it, but I think we should be as natural as human nature will allow. Dear teacher, I think this it all I can say about Do- mestic Signs on the Garden Gate and I hope you will overlook misspelled words; I will try to do better next time. MARGARINE. I had to laugh at this essay but when I handed it to her mother, she looked up in amazement and said that my influence might be considered questionable. But we so often disagree that it is no wonder that on such a small matter we should decide differently. Just as she was finishing her work on the jacket, she stuck herself with the needle, and the frown on her face made me laugh. This called forth a rather pointed remark or more, concerning the essay. I slammed the door and went to bed and soon was dreaming of the garden gate when I felt her sweet lips against my face; she sat on the edge of the bed and tears were flowing down her cheeks — she said she was sorry she had hurt my feelings and that she could see, at last, how I looked at that essay. As she laid her wavy head near A VOICE OP THE PRAIRIE. 73 mine, I told her of the happy days of long ago and in her fondness she admitted "On the Garden Gate" better than "Domestic Science" and we both got up and went to Margarine's room and kissed her. The child wondered what the trouble was, but we knew. WHEN FATHER WENT. On the south of the coop, the chickens wuz a cluckin', And the cattle stretched themselves and stood; The day wuz clear and drowsy-like and warmer, And the sunshine felt kind o' soft an' good. Them last three days wuz awful tough un's The wind wuz raw and mighty strong And the spell was so awful colder Then what we'd seen the winter long. Then the Old Man run out o' tobacco, He used to get sulky and cross; When that happened, we young uns Knewed who it wuz, wuz boss. He cussed the prairie and the gov'ment, And said everybody wuz bot, 74 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. And that nuthin' was goin' way it used to, And no one did what they ot. Well, the weather cleared up so shiny, So he started early for the town, To get the papers and his smokin' To walk on the streets and hang aroun'; When time come we fed the pigs and critters, Tied the nags and gave 'em oats, Got the hay all in and twisted, Took out the fiddle to try the notes. Well, the night come on and darkness, Then a storm rose up and rared, Come on at once and raved and blustered, And I prayed Dad wuz spared. Twas an awful blizzard and I wondered If Dad wuz in town or comin' home; The air wuz filled with snow awhirling Like the spray of the angry foam. Then the frost on the windows thickened, And the storm wuz growin' fast; It piled up snow to the door knob, And reached the eaves at last. We got the shovels and cleared the window To give the lamp a chance to light, Perhaps he'd see the flickerin' glimmer Ef he'd git within the range of sight. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 75 Time went on with the clock a tickin' Mother wuz a sittin', lookin' out She wuz alius one of them women Ahoping as long's there wuz a doubt. It's awful lonesome in the sodhouse, Sittin', waitin' burning hay, Mother pale, and still, and solemn, None of us had a word to say. Well, I thot how good Dad wuz alius, How he helped us with our things, And as I sit so sad and often lonely Back it all my memory brings; Well, the next day cleared up keenly, The prairie was glittering grand, Filled with rubies, pearls, and opals, Scattered over all the land. Then we found the Old Man sleeping Never agin to rise and speak, Nor to read to us on each Sunday, Nor to help us thru the week. O, his face was sweet and grander Than it ever wuz before, And I'm alius awful sorry That I shall see him nevermore. On the hill you see up yonder, That's the place since then he sleeps, 76 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. Away from trouble and from worry That's the narrow room he keeps. He is gone, we kin never meet him, And I miss his kind old face, But I believe he's got a claim in Heaven Waiting for us in that place. AGRICULTFEAL REMARKS. Things are not always what they seem; I am opposed to ill treatment of any kind; threshing innocent wheat and hammering nails, especially finger-nails never seemed right to me. Yet I am in for fair play, — I do not be- lieve in the way green plums deal with peo- ple nor have I ever thot that a green pear was much to bet on. I might add that going plumming in Jan- uary strikes me as plum out of season, and besides riding bareback in such weather is apt to be injurious to the spine and besides that, a person should not be subjected to too much exposure, especially the back, unless he really deserves a good one; I never believe in spar- ing the rod in that case. I am in love with the prairies, there are other S:."~cva'_:.::e ►-alls. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 77 green things to be in love with, but I prefer to be in love with the broad free prairies. I was born, raised and dyed there; I worked my way up; I believe a person should work his own way up so that he knows the value of a dollar when he gets one. I worked my way up six feet in my stocking feet. As I said, I was born there; Chicago is lo- cated on the prairie by Lake Michigan; I make this reference to geography not so much for the information, but to show the reader that I have looked up the statistics on the matter. When I was sixteen I became deformed: I had a hair-lip; I became discouraged and dyed — things looked different to me after that. I was passionately fond of hunting; I hunted blackberries several times. Once I came near some ducks in a slough; I had heard mother tell that we must aim high in this world, so I blazed away. I missed the ducks but hit a cow on the other side; I heard the report of that shot in the paper next day. I remember a neighbor who gave a note on his farm; the note swallowed up the farm. Was that not a dickens of a note? I know of but one equal. When Bill got up from the fever, he ate a lot. This was a case of a farm going up and a lot down. 78 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. Ever since my school-days, I have never for- gotten what my teacher told us about tattlers; hard work tells on a fellow; I never want any- thing told on me. Homonyms are causing much trouble of late; the other day I read, while on the train, an ar- ticle on cartoons; a fellow looked over my shoulder and said he could whistle one. I spoke up in Anglo-Saxon and called him a pre- varicator; he said he was whistling a tune in a car. I hesitate to sit down carelessly at present; his personality made a great impres- sion on me at the time. South Dakota is a great state; I like her broad free prairies; they have always been broad but until the good crops came they were not as free as possible. A curious class of vertebrates known as bachelors thrived here years ago; they are a specie who are perfectly destitute of wives and absolutely harmless. They are almost an extinct specie having been nearly obliterated from that section. The new crop growing up, while different in looks and habits, promises to yield bountifully. The settling of a frontier section evinces many peculiar and interesting phases. New industries spring up and trade flourishes. I A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 79 have had in mind a project, I dare say, all my own. It is to start a spectacle factory for weak-eyed potatoes; if we could not mash them we could skin them to a finish. When first our broad prairie was settled, you could see schooners come in every direc- tion, filled to the brim with furnishings for new homes, such as dishes, wives, and babies. As you readily see, nothing but the necessities of life being taken along. The demand for wives out here was something terrific! Many a stockholder was forced to retire alone as the Eastern points were unable to fill orders. I wish to describe a member of that specie; he was a full grown bachelor; note his fea- tures; his habits; his haunts; his food. As to his features, a person would think he had been featured in a monkey show. His haunts were the field, his sodhouse, and an old maid's cabin by the road to town. His hair was bay on top, dapple-gray on the sides; his forehead was warped and his face was rusty in spots. He was a veteran of the late war; he had been shot two and one-half times. Once in his arm, once in Cuba and the last time he went to town he was half-shot. The old maid whom he went to see, was false to him in many particulars; she was false in her teeth, one eye, her hair 80 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. and in one leg, besides I doubt if the good old fashioned way in which people had arteries and veins course thru their flesh applied to her in every place. She agreed one day to become his wife for which service she was to receive her clothes, board and children. She had a sweet disposition, toothache never bothered her and altho her smile was somewhat strange from an ocular standpoint, she was a woman after all, and that is all one can ask. God bless the women! My mother was a woman and I loved her. That South Dakota maiden had once been in love but the competitive system blighted her hopes; when it comes to courtship I favor the co-operative plan unequivocally and unquali- fiedly; its results are more satisfactory on both sides. On the prairies, when the roses, red and white, are in bloom, and the blackbirds ren- der their wild and merry choruses; when the lark, from his rostrum, renders his sweet soio and the flowers turn their beautiful faces to the vaulting sky, and when the bees hum and the gopher whistles, then I hear the June breeze whisper something I don't 'y.st feel like telling everybody right out loud, but two soft, winning eyes can see way down deep in A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 81 my heart; if you were there you would be in the same fix unless you had the mumps or had a loquacious wife, or both. Well, on a sunny afternoon, these two were made one by Justice Lasse Karlson, who, after looking over the pig this poor fellow brot over as a marriage fee, began: "Som I is de Jos- tiss of Peace for de haire tonship, you kan stonn opp! De haire aire notting te fool med; de pig aire mejn en you iss von om you say ja. Amen." Two transfers in one bargain. But after all I like South Dakota marriages. They are cheap and last long; they wear long. They last long enough for the couple to half-kill them- selves to bring their children up to positions honorable and worthy. At least mothers take care of their own babies. They do not take a fellow down into the nursery to show him the latest fad in the way of sprawling humanities. Along about fly-time the cow becomes an object of interest, especially to the fellow doing the milking. Have you ever seen an imagina- tive and acrobatic cow being milked by a per- sistent and prosaic farmer? First he would ap- proach her in a most fascinatingly persuasive manner while she, in her feminine coyness and modesty, would look searchingly into his eyes 82 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. as if to ascertain his motives. I recollect one time seeing a fullblooded Jersey; she was full- blooded until she severed a portion of her spinal supplement. After that day she rose each morning accompanied by a marked dis- tinction; yet, however, I do not believe she was particularly happy for hers was a sad tail. Times were hard in South Dakota, people suffered many hardships in those early days; one winter both the Indians and the small- pox broke out, while a friend of mine broke in and after resting up for year or so he broke out again; he is retiring in his way now, since several have begun seeking his company. I remember the old school-house and the play-ground where we acquired the cultivated habit of spelling long and severely tenacious words in a way no mortal ever had an idea they were pronounced. I visited the dear old place and noticed a dif- ference in the method in which the pupils were interesting the teachers, and I might add the weather seemed somewhat more cloudy than twenty years ago. It seems so strange now, so many things are changing as the years roll by. One thing had a touching effect on Bill and me, and that was the old rattan hanging in the same old, A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 83 familiar place. O, how that token brings back many a severely impressive scene; even now after twenty years of toil and trouble, I can almost feel a twinge of pain as I think of that beneficient rectifier. THE OMEN OF THE NIGHT. Late. the wind was low 'neath the clouds of woe The shadows were dusky and gloomy; And the trees were bare in the drifting air And the arch of the way was roomy. Then the flickering light, tremulous at night Made forms that were sullen and dreary And the sober scene had no star of sheen And the way was weird and weary. There were two of them there, she was intel- lectually fair Their future was fiery and glowing; Out across on the ice with their skates to en- tice They sped on, no evil then knowing; When out from the land, no shores near at hand, An anguish of pain seized his spirit 84 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. And he felt there a woe, no other can know He knew not the cause, tho he felt they were near it. Then his anguish grew great nor did it abate For terror his bosom was filling He knew not the cause of this danger that awes Which his mind could not see tho 'twas willing. At last in despair, near the center out there He begs her to stop and cease going For a cause there must be which they cannot see A danger beyond their own knowing. They turn on their way, not a word do they say, Until the shore they are nearing; Now the maiden grows cold, this terror finds hold In her mind beyond any cheering. "What can this all mean, for nothing we've seen Has shown us a clue to our anguish; Is this but a dream, which so ghastly does seem, A warning that makes us both languish?" A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 85 Around by the shore, the ice they glide o'er And safely reach their destination. Next day they came back to follow their track When they saw what caused their sensation; In the ice was a rent near by where they went; He had stopped on the verge of destruction. His anguish and pain was spent not in vain, But had been that night a saving obstruction. What caused this restraint which made their hearts faint, And sent them backward returning? They knew not the place where Death seemed to face, Yet the voice was fiery and burning. This secret is old yet never was told; Clear up, wise sages, the mystery! Here reason stands dumb, when the question does come, We know of these cases in life and in history. READING A BOOK. It is a hard thing to pose as an apostle of exact literature; it is a poser. After one has written a manuscript with the utmost care and then finds some sentences set up by the com- 86 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. positor in a painful position, it is very ex- cruciating or some such word; I heard this word used in connection with some talking done on the top of a popular soap box yester- day and I thot I might throw it in here in this obscure part of the book where it would go down unwept, unseen, and unsung as I read in a book yesterday. The other day I wrote a famous piece for the paper and I under-scored: "Her heaving bosom was filled with rage as the villain still pursued her," and when it came out it read: "Her heavy bosom was filled with rags" etc. Now that takes out all of the pathos and I dare say spoils the piece. Then, again, some sore- headed reader comes in to tell my words are not to be found in the Webster Dictionary; I calmly reply that they have not seen all of his copies, and that they better do it before they come to me about it. Of course, I always hold out on my side when it comes to the propriety of words. I have argued, often and severely; I defend my words and the grammar involved with rare fluency; more fluency than anything else. But the other day my position had gotten down to a very severe stage of hopelessness. I found that in writing up an item about a Miss N. E. Pool, it came out A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 87 thuswise: "The small-pox is raging around here and Miss Kate Brown is worse than N. E. Fool; we hope that the patients will recover so that we may no longer miss N. E. Fool." That makes me think of a week ago when wishing to speak of a rather attractive young lady here, I read the following in the local news columns: "Miss Price is suffering from hpxlo!6ikitis at present, but we hope to hear of her speedy recovery." A month ago I had a suffering experience. I was writing up a local for the millinery store which was just starting up and ofcourse used practical words to tone up with: "The new millinery store is being papered and fixed up for the Fall trade, the estimable proprietor is having a great bustle on her and will soon be ready for her display! All the latest patterns will be shown the ladies who come expecting to purchase." I have been camping out for some time since, and the irate milliner is still ferocious, for she says my local was a slander- ous lie as she stoutly maintains that there is not a bustle in her place. Great Scott! How could I have told? How am I to know? I simply wanted to help her out; yet, she claims that not a lady will come 88 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. near her store. I don't blame them if they feel as sensitive about it as I do. A friend of mine has written a large and ag- gressive book; he calls it the City Directory; I do not fancy it however for it is not romantic enough for me. I think it could be improved very much along some lines. True, it has one advantage over my last book because it locates the plot more accurately, giving numbers and street, and also names the villain and the two who get married in the last chapter, but my friend quits before that, and advertises a brand of malt damnation that will make your nose blossom like a garden of roses and pansies and stretch your diaphragm beyond the wildest dreams of an Expansionist. Theer are some very personal remarks in it; I have never doubted his great appreciation of me but I think he made a breach of etiquette in putting into his book the exact location of my voluptuous residence; that was a case where address was in too familiar terms. Further- more, it was a mean thing for him to do, as I think cautiously of the rent due a man where I lodged for a year and was obliged, despite my forbearing qualities, to move, being continu- ously annoyed by an unattractive bill until I A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 89 could stay there no longer, and had to move or lose my dignity. This book is illustrated with great letters on the covers and is after all, a great literary appendix to our masterpieces. It is a useful book as it is the right thickness to put on a chair to put the baby on so as to reach up to the table. I have used it frequently as a press for botanical purposes and as a press or weight for pickles it has few superiors and certainly no equals. But there is another use for which it can scarcely be surpassed and that is a place to select names for bald and helpless babies. Here is where the genius of its author sheds lustre on his opus. As I lay my pen down to scratch my back, I may add that it costs $4.00 C. O. D. BEHIND THE CURTAIN. The sweetness of living had faded, And the hope of ideals had fled, As at night in my home I was thinking Of a heart of devotion, now dead, And my thots were seriously bitter And my fancy was only despair 90 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. For I thot that no other could ever Such fancies in silence upbear. Then I thot of the bar of division Between Future and fast fleeting Past, And the vague, mystic distance between us For the unmerciful die had been cast. Then my soul turned hopeless and bitter, For where on this Earth could I see The features of one who is sainted But today separated from me. As I sat in my fancy and dreaming With the load no other could take, The shadows grew sullen and gloomy No music the silence to break; When as of a sudden I heard them, The bells distant, ringing in chimes, Began tinkling, swinging in rapture And brot hither in beauty old times. Then my eyes were so heavy and leaden, Their lids I could open no more, Until Psyche had lifted the curtain And I saw there the heroes of yore; There I saw Cromwell and Lincoln, And Moses, and Jesus, and Job, Garfield, McKinley, and Jackson, The worthy of men from each globe. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. 91 There I saw that a man to enter Need neither be honored nor grand Nor solemn, nor long-faced, nor sceptic, Nor faithful to creeds or beliefs of the land. He simply must be manly and tender Honest in mind and at heart; A toiler for good and a defender For right and build up his part. I found that those that had shouted Of virtue they claimed for their own I could neither see, hear, nor encounter They were gathered in the gossiping zone. I found there people surprising To me for I never would have thot That they would here have been selected And here to this place have been brot. Here were sceptics who lived once nether, Infidels, atheists, and more Who once scoffed at God and Creator, At foot of the throne to adore; Here were Baptists, Catholics, and Metho- dists, Lutherans and others of various creeds, But they had entered not by religion, But by their benevolent deeds. 92 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE. I noticed no Hell in. this region With brimstone, lava, and fire But a God of Reason and Justice, With aims nobler, better, and higher. But I noticed that outside the Portal Stood priests, ministers, and those Who, nether, had preached and practiced Diametrically opposite — but God knows. Some day even they shall enter the Portal But their wrongs and airs they must shed; They have talked of creeds musty, beliefless, And hundreds in wrong courses led. O, the Religion is glorious and simple! The ways of its people are just, When coffin and anthem are finished In God's grand home you will trust. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 93 ROTATING ON RUBBER. The wagon tracks were worn down in the road we were following, and the sun was slid- ing down the sky at an appalling rate; we were going east and our shadows like spears kept ahead. Darker it grew, and when we had wheeled around a long hill, to the north of it, we saw a house with a bright light gleaming from two of the windows towards the road. We stopped to get some matches and water to fix our carbide lamps. By pouring water into the reservoir in the lamp, the carbide will, as you ride along, generate by the action of the water, the acetylene gas, which burns with a bright light. As I knocked, the farmer, a Scandinavian, came to the door; I asked him for a match and some water to light my lamp. "You inte kan light your lampa med water, I kan tell you. I is not so big fool som you town-fellers tenk I is, nossir! I skall gif you what you ask for, men I don't vant you to play no tricks, for I inte kan stand no fool- ing." T shook the lamp after filling and the farmer stood dumb-founded when he saw the bright 94 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE flame burn. I thanked him and the last we heard him say was that he hoped they would plow a fire-break around the Atlantic so that it would not burn up before he had time to go home to Uddevalla to warn people not to throw water on a burning house as that would result in its burning down. On and on we sped until a pestilential odor arose from the track due to the compliments of a nervously constituted skunk; William made some pleasant remark consistent with the acceptance of compliments and sped on at a meteoric rate. Such rate is charging usury on Time and I have always noticed that get- ting anything and everything on time is not alway's to one's credit. He disappeared like a South Dakota treas- urer when the whole State advertised for a certain Taylor — apparently the coat did not fit and so a whole suit was ordered. When I had by strenuous velocity gained his close and intimate presence I had formed an entangling alliance with his wheel; he had dexterously turned a summersault and I had determined to turn a new leaf in cycling for a record. You will notice that there are many queer turns in the life we lead. After gathering up our wheels, our hats, and A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 95 our strength, we resumed our rotation on rub- ber. William rode ahead and in a grassy place along the way he capsized, and as he fell a thousand fire-bugs flew up; all I could see was a liberal pair of feet in mid-air and sparks flying in every direction. It looked like a hot ride. It was. It is very appetizing to ride a wheel for miles without a bite to eat except the mos- quito bites on a person's back. They are per- sistent back-biters as I have often said before. I have little patience with suckers even tho they come from Illinois. Again we pushed forward and as we rode on we noticed no houses along the road. On and on, and no place to stop over night. At last we came up to an old hay stack; here we laid our wheels down and rested. I had rested similarly on a strawpile before. To- wards morning we awoke very much rested. Something had bitten poor William under the nose and also under a tall cottonwood tree. His lip, otherwise set aside as a reservation for a mustache, looked like the smackers of a hippopotamus. I was afraid he was pouting at something I had said about the fire-bugs. As I got it thru my head that he really was good-natured and desired to appear pleasant, 96 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE my fears changed into a suspicion that he was coming down with labial mumps. There is a fond feeling that comes over a fellow when he thinks of his friend by his side as the only person who is with him, appre- ciating things transpiring, and to whom he can speak of home and homestead. I was as a rule proud of William for he was a fine specimen of manhood. But I felt that he was inordi- nately mouthy at present. It is curious how some people swell up over a tiny bite. The day was beautiful as we rode along the Minnesota river; the people were coming out of the city to be nearer the woods and water, and to breath the fresh, pure air and smell the scent of the flowers. Minneapolis is a great city for flour-mills and civil disturbances. Some of her civil dis- turbances are not so civil as they might be, but of course a growing city must keep up her reputation. We soon crossed the Rubicon and were in- side city limits; we have seen many limits since then. I might add that the city limits were not all the limits we saw. We put up at a hotel which would be in keeping with our social equilibrium; I have al- A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 97 ways heard that a person should keep in good company; that was the reason we did not call on the Mayor, altho we were in need of a civil service plum. I had heard that he was called the Father of the City, and judging from some of his children, their mother must have been gadding around the neighborhood and letting the children take care of themselves. I had noticed such affairs in the land I came from. We could not sleep well that night for there seemed to be a wagon driving by every now and then, and besides that, there was a big Turk sleeping in the next room and I had con- siderable worry over understanding his for- eign method of breathing. I committed a por- tion of it, but failed to get the accent. William tried to blow out the light in our room, but the wick was inside a bottle. It must be very windy in the Twin Cities, and as a precaution they case their lamps. We put wet towels over our eyebrows and tried to rest our aching heads. We had several interviewers during the night, and twiched nervously during their per- sistent interviews. When the sun rose we dressed and went down to the eating-room where a young lady came up and spoke a piece without first having 98 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE been introduced. We both smiled and bowed and off she went thru a door and came out again. She was a professional flirt for she act- ed in the same manner towards eighteen or twenty. After waiting about half an hour we became vexed and left the room with much hauteur. That piece of poetry cost us a dollar. We went up the street and got a square meal at a table which reached up to our chins. We walked around awhile to limber up and then rode on the street-car. My, but we saw many people on our trip on that car, several of whom we had never seen before! A person can study Nature, and especially human nature, and of its many phases woman nature is the most curious. I saw one come in with a dead bird on her head, and another had a blueberry bush on top of three shades of hair. One had been kneading bread and in her hurry to catch the car had forgotton to brush off all of the flour. But a man would be a crank to find fault with a woman who insists on doing her housework first before going out, so I kept still. It seemed queer in this city; I said "How- do-you-do" to everyone as they came on board but the people were singularly impolite and A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 99 showed very poor bringing up, for they seem- ed too proud to speak to us. City people are too haughty to suit me. I like to see a per- son have common sense and not try to be something he cannot be. I hate the man who scratches his head six feet from the scalp. The city is a great place for streets, high- ways and poor water-systems. The day we were there they found a dog and six infants in a reservoir; I presume the mothers had taken their little darlings there for a morning bath and had been attracted by some of the many attractions wc saw and had forgotten their babes. The dog had prob- ably jumped in to rescue the sprawling hu- manities and died in a questionable cause. O, how those poor mothers must nave suffered when they realized their negligence! There is a great deal of trouble in this world, and there are several young mothers who need a sympathetic friend who could shoot straight enough to put a quietus to a great many who do not merit the exalted title: Man. But I have noticed some who have never had a great chance of being led astray, criticise the unfortunate; I have noticed more square inches of pure, unadulterated rotten- ness and immorality among these selfsame L.ofC- 100 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE critics than the suffering ones whom they crit- icised. I do not uphold wickedness and that is why I censure the wickedest the most. Our great cities need more farmers in them; more honest, God-loving city* folks, and less money-hoarders, gamblers, thieves, civil and criminal. We do not need sermons to the church-go- ing people as much as we do to the slum pop- ulation. I believe the preacher ought to be a safe, moral, logical, fellow; I would place less stress upon his coat than the heart within; I would pay him every cent I promised him and I should insist that he give value received. These are my sun-burnt opinions and the}* are not due to any shade of a city*-awning's sin. We hesitated to drink water the remainder of the day, but we soon discovered that the milk they sold in the city bore very slight re- lation to the bovine tribe; you could not im- agine a bellowing calf by* the taste of it. Josh Billings said that the best thing he ever saw on milk was cream, but the best I could see on this milk was only* a thin film. Bill Nye would have nigh choked on the bill it cost, and Riley would have merited his name A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 101 if he had been obliged to drink it. I think he has a splendid name as it is. William went out for a little sight-seeing; he went out to look for a mill which was lo- cated by a dam. The mill had burned down and when he came back he explained that the mill the old settlers built had disappeared. "I found the dam by the mill-site but I couldn't find the mill by a dam-site." I couldn't either. It seems peculiar how time defaces things; I met an old boy-friend. He was now a defaced man; his face had grown up to weeds and his pate was lying over, being summer-fallowed. He was mulching it with a strange lotion. It seemed he had a sore head. So many have. I knew a girl in early times who, now, cannot eat a bite of food; in fact, chewing is a lost art with her. "City life is strenuous and dim- cult," she said, and judging from her appear- ance I agree. I always agree with a woman who has no teeth, for to carry on a conversa- tion with bald-mouthed women goes against the grain, especially the grain of truth. Having seen our fill we started up the road to Stillwater, a place of rest and confinement. Here are some persons who are retired within a stone-wall and are almost as exclusive as New York's Four Hundred. They are almost 102 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE as eccentric in their style of dress and hair-cut. They first came up to the bar, then before it, and now behind it. They long to be disbarred from being debarred. This convent of quiet brethren is a solemn place and things are taken seriously, as that is the way they took things before. Stillwater is beautifully located and some of her tourists stay there for long outings. Some of them return. We stopped there longer than we had anticipated. We went from there to St. Paul, but no- ticed little to suggest its name. The place is a fine business center and has several flourishing saloons. Spirits are high and as a rule we felt gay and frolicsome while there. It is a healthy place except the fatal beds they have there. So many die in them. They wriggle around so much and catch death by cold feet; a quiet nap can do no harm except in case of a fire; then it is a probable cause for a good roasting. It makes me hot to get roasted. We then went to St. Peter; I failed to see a reason for calling the town by that name. He must have been crazy, at least there are a great many crazy people there. We left this town on short notice. We next turned up at Mankato; this is the A VOICE OF THE PEAIRIE 103 place where the Indians were given a neck-tie social. As for me, I never believed in hang- ing around. In fact, I will be hanged if they hang me. From this place we resumed our journey home to the Land of Sunflowers. The whirr of the threshing-machine greeted our ears; the scent of the pumpkin-pie and fried eggs came upon the breeze. The clacking of the guineas and haw-i-haw, — i-haw of our pet donkey told us that we were in a fine state. We were. Everywhere rows of grain-shocks and grain- stacks could be seen; autumn flowers were in bloom and the sky clear. Wagons filled with wheat were going to* town, with farmers talk- ing politics and market-prices from wagon to wagon. The country school-bell would ring and the children gather in to learn lessons which would enable them to rove around and see things from our standpoint. The envy with which they looked at us was appalling to say the least — appalling to us. In closing I will say that South Dakota has a few blizzards. 104 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE ME AM) HER ¥UZ SWEETHEARTS. Me and her wuz sweethearts When I wuz young; Many is the recollection To me has clung. Remember her voice, soft-like, And her purty eyes That gave me my only glimpses Of Paradise. I kin still remember As clear as the day I heard her sort o' whisper: "I love you, say." Had a longing for her comp'ny, Liked to sit and sing, And I knowed a hammock That wuz just the thing; Believed I wuz only foolin', And used her mean, But I knewed it different As could be seen. Fellers used to guy me But I didn't care 'Caus I wuz in earnest For she wuz fair. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 105 Well, she went to Wyoming, And I went from school, When I seen her next time She held the teacher's rule. Married a feller in Wisconsin, Used to drink up all; Heard she wuz unhappy- Heard she used to squall. One day he got run over By the train they said; When they found him mangled He wuz cold and dead. She came back to Dakota, Wuz a widow, of course, Hard up and busted, Discouraged and worse. We, neighbors, turned to Give her a sort o' lift; Plowed her farm and garden, Took turns about and shift. Well, she seemed so lonesome I thot she wuzn't to blame, So I took her to the justice And changed her name. 106 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE SPOOKS ABOVE. We roomed with a Socialist family who held tenacious views of more or less accuracy. They were industrious, honest at heart, and peculiar. Socialist literature was much read, and reviews of Republicans and Democrats were often made. Labor questions were discussed, espe- cially between a boy and a relative wood-pile. They were delighted in impromptu argu- ments and were pleasant in many ways. John, the Boston man, was a roomer at the house, and played rag-time pieces with clever- ness. He held patriotic views regarding the celebrated Bean-town. One evening John had a friend who came with him upstairs; while they were talking about the best method to dehorn a brass-band which had started up in our town, I had lain upon my bed when I was awakened by what I thot was a soft hand. Upon going into his room I found them white as ghosts. "Did you see her? Did you see that girl?" gasped John. "She resembled the photo of the girl you call Jessie." "Yes," said his friend, "she stood in your door-way looking into your room. She A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 107 was beautiful as she stood there gazing at you. Didn't you see her?" I had not. They had noticed her sweet blue eyes and long, wavy hair, and kept on commenting on her personal beauty. I felt peculiar; their fear was real; they were verily trembling with terror. They described Jessie very clearly, and yet, they had seen only a poor photo of her which was faded and old, for she had gone to the Land of Shad- ows while youth's bloom held my admiration. Both of them were quiet the remainder of the evening and I went to bed with a feverish memory of bygone days. About midnight John stalked into my room crazy with terror. "I saw her in the dull moonlight; again her eyes were looking into your room. I dont' know what to think. She stood there and then went thru the window in the hall here. I could not see her open it but I saw her go thru it. Can you explain it?" I got up and talked with him concerning the situation. I happened to look out thru the window when I saw something of a pinkish golden color pass by; it seemed to be going thru the yard. It seemed to have alighted on the ground some hundred feet from where I saw it first. The discussion was becoming very 108 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE real to me and I thot if there were any spirit that wanted to interview me I wished to meet her and meet her soon. John was less anxious. After talking and talking, we went to bed. I dreamed of mother and the homestead back in the Land of Sunflowers and I fancied I could hear the kiotes howl. When I awoke and came down for breakfast, John had one foot upon a chair and was explaining his ex- perience to the Socialists, who, in awful sus- pense, held their mouths at a great degree of angulation. "Well, sah, I do believe it's because of them combine and awful oppression of the laborin' classes, and I think we'll see signs worse than these. What d'you think?" Combines in Heaven! I have believed that there would be some trusts there but I never before had thot of calling them mergers. After having talked the subject over accord- ing to various interpretations another evening had come around and another opportunity for spiritual manifestations up above in our rooms. After supper another consultation was had and then we went into our respective rooms. Suddenly I heard a door open and the fall of a body. When I came into the hallway there lay John on the floor, dressed in his A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 109 night cap and gown, fainted away. I ran in for a bowl of water to bring him to. As I came out I stubbed my toe on the threshold and all of the water was poured on John's un- suspecting stomach. He came to in an instant and told me he had seen visions. He wanted to know how he had got wet and where the water came from. I had returned the bowl and looked mysterious. With a shrug and a shiver he went to his room and dressed. We sat for a long time thinking of the spiritual disturbances and talking about the mystic phe- nomena. Then the chimney began to howl and a book fell from my book shelf; when I picked it up I found it to be one of James Whitcomb Riley's books which Jessie had given me in an early day. The book has some fine sentiment, and, what was curious, it had opened to a story entitled: "A Tale of a Spider." That set me to thinking and fancy after fancy passed thru my wistful brain. At last John went back to bed again and I sat till the morning dawned, reading letters written dur- ing the prospective days of a mustache. The next day we went thru the incident of the for- mer manifestations and when night came the whole household was on the alert. Along about ten o'clock something passed the win- 110 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE dow again. We got up and ran down in our night gowns and took after the fleeing appari- tion, each silent as the grave. Thru ditches, mud holes, on and on, over the fence, and down the road in a silent, grim pursuit. It be- gan to rain in torrents; the lightning flashed and we were wet to the skin. But we were gaining on the ghost, but gaining slowly. Over a plowed field, down and up a ravine bent the enthusiastic chase. At last our gains began to show, and in a few moments he had lost so much ground that we were about to grab him, when to our mortification we discovered the ghost to be our friend, the Socialist. He had done what we had taken him for. He believed us to be the troublesome spirits and had fled in disma}^. He had run his race for life as best he could. When we came back the good housewife had made some hot coffee, and af- ter dressing we sat down talking over how it had come about that we had made so grave a mistake. About two o'clock I was awakened by some woful moaning in the chimney and in a few moments John came in saying that he heard footsteps on the roof. We listened atten- tively but could not hear a repetition. John went back into his room and all was again A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 111 quiet. I fell asleep, but awoke hearing some one say that my dear old grandmother was dead. I got up and looked at my watch; this happened a quarter past three in the morning. My whole being was in agony lest this voice be a true one. When I awoke after a feverish slumber, breakfast was ready and again we discussed the situation. Things went on smoothly for a week or so, when a letter came saying my grandmother was feeble but riot ill. That was a relief, for she was the object of anxiety to me day and night. I sat one evening looking at a faded picture, one often seen before. But as I sat there look- ing at it her eyes became as the living. I said: "Jessie!" "What?" "Where are you living now?" "I am in Heaven, but it is unlike what you think it is. Wilhelm, do not worry over me; when you come we will go far beyond Alcyon to see your grandfather, who is there now. The soul needs no time to travel; it thinks, and it is where it thinks. I think and I am here. I am not of substance as you under- stand it. You cannot caress me now — you kiss me with your beautiful thots; you could smite me with your angry ones, were you here." 112 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE I looked around to see where the voice came from, but nowhere could I locate it. Again it came, and this time it said: "When I next see you, I will take you with me; you must bear up bravely for your trials are to be great. I only know of them and not so that I could tell you anything in detail. I cannot talk in the language of emotions to you; I must speak in words. Farewell." I was alone; the room was dark; it rained outside. The sighing in the chimney had ceased and nothing but the dull patter of the cold rain broke the ghastly silence. Nothing could be heard of the voice; the lamp had gone out and in silence I went to bed. From troublesome sleep I awoke to find John in the doorway with lamp in hand, looking at me. "I dreamed you had suddenly died, but I see you have returned to the land of the living." I marvelled at his speech, but as he returned to his room I fell again into sleep. We have seen no more of that beautiful an- gel, and when she calls again I shall follow to the Land Beyond, and in that realm see what I cannot even think of here, nor shall eyes be necessary for sight. The blind shall see and the deaf hear. The lame shall be agile and the dull shall be witty, and boasters shall have A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 113 something to boast of. The gold shall be per- manent on the evening wave and the breezes shall bear strains of devotion on their fleeting wings. ON PTJGET SOUND. Tell you what I like is fishin', Fishin' for cod an' other fish; Not for them there compliments, Them ain't what fills the dish. I like to take a row-boat When the weather haint rough, And skim along the surface, I tell you that's the stuff! I like to fish with comp'ny, And sit and talk of times Way back in old Dakota — That's what sort o' chimes. I like to tell of blizzards, And sit here in my sleeves, And about them spelling matches Where the wrong word grieves. 114 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 'Spect some chronic critic Will see this piece and grin, But if he wuz here afishin,' He would think it a sin. When the sun is shining On the Olympics there, And the Overland whistles, The scenery is fair! O, the sighing in the pine-trees, In the pines the sighs should be! And the ripples on the surges Are as fine in briny glee. O, I like the trees and rivers, And the mountains and vales! With the flowers and the berries, And a climate for all ails. Like to hear the tree-falls, And the whistle of the mill; There is music in the breezes And the ripple of the rill. And I like the hop-picking And the merry crowd that goes, Reg'lar picnic for the women And a recess for your woes. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 115 Do I like the pears and berries? See me eat the way I do! Gee! Tell me of the blizzards After I am done and thru! Give me room to yell and holler! This is Eden of the Heart! Rather have it rain than blizzard, And the drought to start! Here's the places for spinsters, Here they can get their man. If they can't get a rattlin' feller, They never, never can. I aint high-toned in talkin' But I kin pay my way; It seems that them what's busted Hadn't ort to have much to say. In the summer and the autumn; In the mellow moonlight hours; When the leaves are bright and silvery, I like to walk among the flowers. And I like to talk of bygones, And forget the wicked things That people said in anger, For a nobler sentiment sings. 116 A VOICE OF THE PRAIPwIE I'd rather think of my mother, And her sweet and simple life, Than be thinking of the troubles That harass in our strife. m FASHION'S REALM. It appears there are different kinds of corn; some grow on ears, others on feet. There are farmers who have read ''Farm. Stock and Home'' and believe in diversified farming; they raise both. Gophers are very injurious to corn, hence several kinds of corn-salve have been made and used. The gopher that eats corn-salved kernels usually dies of stomach ex- haustion. In fashionable circles the other kind of corn thrives splendidly. People seem to treasure them highly, at least they feel very sensitive about them and act as tho annoyed and offend- ed when a person thru circumstance comes too near to them. I dislike sensitive penurious- ness. The other Sunday I was walking on the boulevard when it occurred to me that the world is getting to be over-crowded of late A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 117 years. My admiration for the fairer sex is great, altho I have seen some very unfair ones among them. But one thing cannot be denied and that is that they will sacrifice anything and everything for the sake of others. I know of one who sacrificed a home, a husband, and her three red-headed children to please a Chicago salesman. After having pleased him, she gen- erously returned to her home, and is waiting to help some other if need be. I noticed on the boulevard a young girl who had laced her- self up to an abbreviated contraction in order to give other people more room. The brave little thing bore up calmly under the terrible strain, and acted so bewitchingly that I would have taken her to my arms in the enthusiasm that a native land receives her Hobson, were it not that I might seem too forward in my ways. Another lady came along whom I admired for the example she set. She was an enthusi- ast of nature study. She set an example for others to follow. She wore as a badge of her order, a green-house on her head; green peas and radishes were her emblems. They were very apt and suggestive to me. I believe in people showing what they are. These em- blems had another use; they were cooling and 118 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE refreshing to the owner and the colors har- monized beautifully. It did not take me long to discover that the day was one when all trades and fraternities were out on parade. Along came a woman with a dress made from a crazy-quilt pattern. It was very at- tractive; I noticed many were attracted by it. She had a big blue patch on her back, and several red and green ones on her chest; pieces from a flour sack were sewed on the wrists. In some places, to bring out the back- ground more clearly, and to give effect to the vanishing point, mosquito netting had been used. It added coolness and comfort to her dress. It seemed even shady to me. Soon a large woman came along with a poodle-dog, and a small man carrying a cat. That woman was a good woman. Evidence showed it. Her little pets seemed delightfully attentive. Anyone could see at a glance what fraternity she represented. It was the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Hers is a noble cause! I have seen horses with sore shoulders and without fly-nets in fly-time and their drivers beastly drunk. I must apologize here for the adjective: 'beastly/ as I have never seen a beast drunk, A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 119 altho having seen several human wretches in that condition. I have seen lazy men drive over-burdened horses in a way that the build- ing of a new oven in Purgatory has become an absolute necessity. I have seen jackasses in the traces and others holding the reins. It seems a disgrace the way our dumb friends are treated. By and bye, a family came walking along. They aroused my curiosity immediately. There were six boys and five girls, a father, and a mother. The boys were dressed symmetric- ally; their clothes looked the same fore and aft. You would have to see them move in or- der to detect which way they were going to go when they looked sideways. The girls had an unripe expression about them, and proper cultivation would have modified their looks considerably. Patterns and taste had been left out of their lives, and the result was disgusting, not ludic- rous, to contemplate. I have a feeling of aver- sion for meaty looking individuals. I like the gleam of intelligence which emanates from the cultured features of the intelligent person. After them came a brassy looking family; they appeared as tho they owned the whole world. They probably did, for the world 120 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE they moved in must have been very narrow, judging from the narrowness of their bear- ing. They tried to represent the tinners and brazers but could not. They had the brass but lacked the tin. I have seen others in the same predicament. Another came along with a crepe-flag at half-mast to show that his mother-in-law had made up with him and gone to her reward. I had some time in placing him, but finally made up my mind that he represented an advertis- ing bureau. Then a fellow with a sober look on his face came along. He looked meek and pious. He came up and asked me if my soul was all right. I felt in my pockets to see if I had lost anything and then told him I must have un- derstood him to say something else. He said that I should mend my ways. Are you a tailor? I asked. He mumbled about sinners and brimstone, and went away having left me with all his meekness, and gone away without it. I placed him with the missionaries to China — he was out of place to a certain extent. I have views of my own, and do not need the assistance of such sycophants as he, to in- quire about a matter that is none of his busi- ness. I had one of those pious leeches come A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 121 and ask how my soul was, and then get down and pray a long irrelevant harangue, after which he got up and asked me for five dol- lars. I gave him the V and as soon as he had pocketed it he flew for the door. If a man wants aid and needs it, I feel like giving him help and saying nothing about it, but this begging and alms-giving of idle, sleek- haired jugglers with religion find little sym- pathy with me. I like religion, but I hate leeches. I have one thot to give them: Get your living like an honest man and do not sneak around asking for donations. You are contemptible in the eyes of honest and intelli- gent laborers. It is interesting to watch people passing along; they will teach you a great many things if you judge them carefully. WHEN THE BABY WUZ SICK. To W. H. H. Sr. The old man wuz working hard them days, Had to stand by the forge and work; When he cum home never heard any praise Never had a lay-off nor a shirk. 122 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE Wife was puny-like, sort o 'halfway sick, Couldn't do much but kind o' complain; Fidgety-like, nervous, and raise a kick — Would drive a feller plum insane. But the poor woman wuzn't a feelin' well, Wuz run down and used up and weak; She wuz a good woman, the neighbors tell, When she had on a healthy streak. Wuzn't no crank part o' the time, you see, Only when she wuz ugly an' cross; Then she wuz grumbling 'bout you an' me, To let us know who wuz boss. One night the baby got a squallin' fit And the old man got up and walked, And his wife lay an' didn't help a bit, Only lay there and talked, and talked. The old man struck for the kitchen stove, Struck a coal-hod and let'er fly! Gee! But the atmosphere wuz clove From profanity to the sky! There wuz a commotion in the house, Everybody riz to see the fun; But the baby quit her howling, and his spouse Wondered what he had done. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 123 Them days wuz hard on the man, I say, And I knowed it done him harm; His face is wrinkled, and his hair is gray, From work in town, and living on the farm. THE SQUIRE'S FAD. The old Squire had been complaining about his "rheumatiz" ever since I could remember until about two months ago. He was a man who had very little sympathy for others' pain, but he always exacted it for his own. A change had come upon him. He had been visiting with Squire Jones for a couple of weeks and had taken to mental science. Henceforth he was to pose as a green twig. His past career had been very fitting for this, as he had never done a day's hard labor in his life, nor was he at all likely to in the near future. He made his wife give up her herbs and cough-drops and mercilessly ridiculed and scoffed at any one's temporary illness. His ointments he threw out and his crutch he burned. He was free from ills he said and proceeded to act accordingly. His wife asked him to chop some wood, but he declined, say- ing that he could find better use for his mind. 124 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE Time went on and Jane, their daughter, took ill with pneumonia. "You are a fool, ignorant of the importance of the Science; open the windows and let the air circulate! Get up and wash the dishes. Doctor? Well, I should say not! Do you suppose that I would have such a humbug in my house? Not in a Mental Scientist's house, not in his back yard even! Get up, Jane, you only think you are sick." Jane got up, but she soon went to bed. Her eyes told the story. Next day his wife came running out to him as he was reading on the sunny side of the house. "John, our Jane is dead!" "Go on — you women-folks ars always imagining! Read the Science here and get a speck of sense into your system!" He came in and sure enough there lay Jane asleep in the sleep of Eternity, a victim of the lack of proper medical care and morbid ignorance had one more soul to account for. Neighbors were free in their comments and the Squire grew bitter in his views. Ten years passed b3 r , the Squire still a reading. One day a seri- ous attack of colic afflicted him; he was in great distress, but the Science kept him quiet for a long time. But the pain grew worse and worse. His wife saw her opportunity was A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 125 come. "O, John, you are not sick, it's all the mind; here, come get up now and wash the dishes! Get up and don't be ignorant! You are not sick any more than Jane was when you made my child get up to die. Get up, John, you are all right, come." John, the Mental Sage, could not budge; his colic was too much, and in abject pity he beg- ged for a doctor. The doctor came and re- lieved him. He always claimed he would have got well without the doctor's aid and denied that he asked for medical aid. His health was good for a while and his haughtiness usual. One day he took ill with the pleurisy and in a little while he was down on the begging plane. This time his wife made him agree before seven of his neighbors that he wanted the doctor. He came very near dying, but the determined skill of the doctor saved him. When he got up and well, he went out one day and hanged himself in the barn. He died for his fad. I believe in common sense; I do think many so-called ills are imaginary, and many times opiates, morphines, pills and drugs are unnec- essary to take, but reason well applied and judgment used in matters cannot fail to do s:ood. 126 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE WHY I QUIT. Me and Sadie wuz comp'ny but I quit, Cause I felt certain she wuzn't it; I liked her in some of her ways, In others there wuz a sort o' haze. Her eyes wuz purty, and jetty black, An' for kisses there wuz no lack, But I wuz afeard from what I seen Of her folks, she wouldn't be lean. When she did the cooking I had to quit, For my stomach objected and took a fit; I thot it wuz the end of my days, Such cooking seems a craze. My innards are out of whack, And my health is kind o' slack; The taste in my mouth is green, I've lost track of my spleen. My ej r es have bleached and turned to white, And I'm getting lighter than a kite; I don't think weight like that is right, If I keep on I'll be out of sight. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 127 My ribs are numbered one by one, My eating here will soon be done, The likes of it aint under the sun; That girl has acted like a Hun. I can hear the little angels call; I can't whisper, I can't bawl, And to pray I aint got the gall, I can only sneeze and sprawl. Mercy sakes, my stomach aches! Liver quakes, and diaphragm shakes, Such a fuss it makes, like a bunch of snakes, Such victuals are fakes: them she bakes. Yellow froth and mellow broth, Suspicious food, pain renewed! Tremendous death in every breath, Worse than grip or blistered lip. Dying soon but living yet, And I go without regret, For a worse dose I never met, When I die I'll stay you bet. What is tariff, what is creed, A dose of chloroform I need Administered to me with a speed To mix with this suspicious feed. 128 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE A woman if a careless cook Is worse than am 7- crook I know it because I took A bait upon a catchy hook. "Upon a midnight weak and weary," After this I will be lean- CD f taking to a bake so sore, "Nameless here forevermore." I would rather die like Poe Than have my fearful woe In my stomach and be alive Wirh a thousand hornets in a hive. POLICY It is not always policy to have a policy un- less you use polic}^; it is not always polite to be polite. I knew of a case where prunes and codfish prevented a man from voting for the prohibi- tion of malt damnation. He was a grocer and had no views: views hurt his trade, so of course he could not afford to keep them in stock. If vou wanted to know what he thot he A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 129 would say that he had not thot it over. When you asked him a week or so after he would look firm and say that he did not care to express himself, for a man in business cannot express himself. It occurred to me that a business must be pretty small when it interferes with a man's views and can prevent him from ex- pressing himself. As for me, I have views on several questions. For example, I have little patience with a society who condemns the drunkard and eagerly seeks his money. If a man's company is unfit for me, I do not want his help, — respect, self-respect means that much to me. I despise drunkenness and I do not care to have the support of men who are drunkards. I pity them and would tell all such to stop drinking, but I do not condemn them and then ask their patronage. I have very little respect for the Catholic who con- demns a Lutheran for his religion, and I have no more love for the Protestant who boycotts a Catholic because he has a rosary. It seems that my religion is a matter between my God and me, and no other person's business. I do not believe a person should tamper with an- other's business unless he seeks to interfere with me and mine. This poking religion down the throat of a person whose character and 130 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE self-control is vile, and feeble, is a most pusil- lanimous manner of placing the influence for good in contempt and disrepute. Truth does not need a fog-horn for expressing itself; to roar about it suggests the probability of its being a sham and a fake. Some people are religious for policy; you belate the fact that there are hypocrites in the church. You pious brethren are the cause of it all. I do not accuse you of vile teaching, not at all. I simply say that you lay too much stress on church membership and sanc- timonious airs, and not on real charity, real fairness, real sense, and real kindness. I have seen some of you look with disdain at a drunk- ard, not because he was a drunkard and not because he was coarse, but because he was not like you. By your ways and on account of your self-estimation, the world takes you for your model (you make very poor ones), and fails to take the divine God. I believe that if each person could be made to realize the difference between religion and sectarianism he would be a better man and not only try to but would live a better life. I am no calamity-howler; I believe we are better and will be better. The Inquisition is a thing of the past. I think we know better A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 131 than to use it again. Let us broaden our views — we have had them fashionably laced long enough. To see a long-faced person, with a long- eared expression of dogmatic sadness on his face might be taken for a sign that his mother- in-law had recovered from a long illness or that he had thrown a five dollar gold piece into the collection-box thinking it a copper. We laugh to see a preacher slip or fall; we smile at his unintentional humor. Why? Be- cause we feel that he is hiding his human na- ture under an ecclesiastical shield. Human nature is natural; joy, humor, and merriment are good and the religion devoid of comedy has little fascination for me. Its bloody tragedies I abhor and its morose seri- ousness I detest. If we are serious we should have a cause, but we should smile between the pensive frowns. I enjoy pure, moral uproariousness; I enjoy solemn reverence; I detest counterfeit. An old maid met me at the church door the other Sunday and wanted to know how my heart was. I told her it had been beating its way thru life and that I hoped it would keep up the busines as long as I lived. Then another woman inquired how m}' soul 132 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE was. I misunderstood her. I knew my shoes were not as new as possible, but I never ddreamed of a lady cobbler. Then another placed her soft hand upon my arm and asked me if I was filled with the spirit. I told her I did not drink and would not care for any just now. She had more of a flush when I said that than any I ever saw a man bet on. I next listened to a butcher song; this may sound disrespectful, but I don't mean it as such. "Washed in the Blood" makes me al- ways shudder with disgust. I dislike taking the memory of pain in such a light, figurative way. After a while the pastor spoke, and, sir, he spoke well. But the people seemed to lay but very little stress on his words so I lost re- gard for the flock. I thot the poor fellow had done his job well, and instead of praising him I put a bank-note in his hand and told him to go at it again. That evening he did and he did it well. As he called for volunteers for his Master, no one seemed to rise. He called again and again, but no one answered. Then I saw two shingle-weavers whisper and nod, and then one of them arose and spoke. "We are just two but We are in for a square deal and a clean cut. If your Boss haint got any one to stick up for his rights any more than seems to A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 133 be here, we'll take a stand. We ain't ac- quainted but we are in for fair play, so we'll stand pat and hang on for a jack-pot or none. Wade into them, Mr. Speaker, and we'll dig in!" I felt like them and got up and said: "Mr. Pastor, I believe you have a lot of sheep in your fold for they don't seem to have the nerve. Don't let them pull their wool over your eyes; I am in the game yet, and will lead out if you will follow suit." A silly sneer went over the crowd and the three of us got mad and went out. The two took in some more spirits and went in with their shooting irons ready. The whole congregation rose and then the spokesman said: "Well, we've got 'em started; now see if you kin keep 'em where they ort to be." I don't know, but I do not think he could. With tight shoes, botanical gardens on their heads, kid gloves on their hands, burdens on their hearts and shudders in their souls, it would be hard to stand up at all. I have sometimes thot it was hard to labor in the vineyard and avoid sour grapes, and I have noticed that the back seats bear a slight resemblance to a kindergarten for courtship. I do believe more than one remote cause for baby carriages is to be found in the prox- 134 A VOICE OF THE PRAIKIE imity of the church. That is why I believe in them as I do. SXGQUAMIIE I hear a music in thy rills And my heart it fills, With a love that thrills; Every tripping of its dripping In the sunlight sipping, Of the water slipping Over ledges in its spray, and spreading, Fills me with the joy to see the heading Oft the water from the hills. In thy foam and flight of streams Lives my sweetest dreams In the lovely beams; And the dropping and the stopping, Skipping, and the hopping, Oft the dewdrops popping Here and yonder, free and fleeting, Keeping time to nature's beating, Make me think of former themes. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 135 THE PRAIRIE FIRE In the western sky the hues were ashen And the sun was dull and drear; With a whine the wind was moaning lowly O'er the autumn prairie sere. Every rose had ceased her fragrant blooming, Every bird had flown away, And the signs of frost and barren winter Seemed to make a sad display. Then the crackling of the fiery monster Swept the prairie with its sound, And the demon in his hellish fury Soon devoured what he found. Children, parents, homesteads and their treas- ures Fell before his deadly track, All the hopes of future and its pleasures Left in in ruins, painted black. A FRIGHTFUL NIGHT Roy was a fine musician and a lover of mu- sic. He was credulous, of a nervous temper- 136 A VOICE OP THE PRAIRIE ament. One night in June Roy, Lyman, and I roomed together in a house somewhat isolated from the rest of the town, and talked about music, poetry, and yarns in general. Roy and Lyman were at this time of the year interested in an estimable young lady who was unfortunate in matters of complexion; she had a severe attack of the signs of the prairie. When the southern zephyrs come along freck- les do remarkably well, and even grown-up ladies are tanned. It took but little argument to convince Ly- man that a little excitement at the expense of Roy would be a very delightful pastime. The plan was arranged, when of a sudden Lyman declared that he heard steps in the cellar. This was unexpected, and Roy turned white and gasped. All jumped up and our revolvers were ex- amined with care. Roy stepped behind me while I examined mine. With grim determin- ation the cellar door was opened and it was agreed that to venture down there would be too great a hazard. The intruder could hide in some dark corner and shoot us at his leisure. Theer was an opening on the outside of the house and the robber might get out there. Lyman asked Roy A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 137 to watch that place, but Roy insisted there was too much personal danger connected with that venture. Finally we went down the outer way with our revolvers leveled at the unseen foe, Roy being armed with the lamp, whose fierce flames pierced unrelentingly the bosom of darkness. We heard Roy hum "Die Wacht am Rhine" as we marched down into that aw- ful place. We saw something behind a big box; Ly- man's knees began to shake; he stared at the the place with terror in his eyes. Roy began trembling so that I had to take the lamp. Now was the trying hour at hand! Roy wanted to run out, but Lyman whispered hoarsely that if he did he might be shot in the back. Roy considered this carefully and saw in an instant that such a shot would be injurious to the spine. We dared not advance, and retreat seemed too dangerous to be put into actual execution. O, if we only had help! The morrow would dawn and we would be angels on the golden stair! If but a parting word to that freckle- speckled bean-pole could be spoken! If we could have had time to write a poem or two voicing the inner sentiment of our aching hearts! Roy thot of a cake-walk he would 138 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE have been delighted to have written, but ah, the world would little know of this brilliant flash of genius which was forced to fade in a damp cellar! There we stood crazed with fear, no one daring to move for a while. At last, com- mending my future to Higher Authority, I blazed away! The report echoed in an empty kerosene barrel and the bullent went thru an overcoat hung on a nail. We went forward to the melody of "Whistling Rufus," and pro- claimed sovereignty to the four corners of the cellar. Next we went up and Roy sat down to an old melodeon and played "On the Banks of the Wabash Far Away," and we tumbled in, into the room I mean. Then it was concluded that I should go out to examine the premises. When Lyman came out to look for me, as I had not come back in, he found me lying on a pile of hay near the stable. "Come here, Roy!" he cried; "he is knocked senseless! I wonder where the devil is who did it." Roy was speechless; his knees smote together and he sank collapsingly upon the ground. When he had mustered enough strength, he came over to the hay-pile and he and Lyman carried me over to the well and before Lyman could prevent it Roy had poured A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 139 a tub of water over me. Hu! It was frigid to my unsuspecting body! I got angry, or in other words, sorely vexed. I was carried into the house. Roy was detailed guard and Ly- man acted as nurse. I was sick. The long hours that passed before daylight reminded me of the futurity of the millenium. When it did come I was well and hale, but poor Roy was in a hurry to tell his lady friend of the exploits of the night. Lyman and I can yet, as we sometimes meet and talk over the experiences of that night, see the eyes staring in abject terror and the shaking of the knees which were the signs that told us the curly-haired musician was scared. MOUNT RAINIER Lofty peak! Thy head in heaven! Throne of angels and crown of white; Thunder storms thy evening anthem; Lightning, they lamp at night. Dawn, the sun's credentials given, Twilight his last and grand adieu; Like a ruler's is thy certain bearing, Broad and liberal is thy view. 140 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE In the glory of the glare and gloaming When the sun lights up the world, We can see thy high and noble grandeur To the nations here unfurled. In the dawn the kiss of dew and breezes; Here thy silent reign is grand; Thou hast pomp no human monarch Gained by greed and gory hand. TROUBLE AND ITS CULTIVATION A sober-faced girl of four and forty foggy autumns told me that it worried her greatly how to bring up children. She said that un- like other unmarried girls, she 'as a step in the right direction, did not consider herself experienced in the bringing up of children. She said it had caused her a great deal of anx- iety of late. I replied that as I was a Bene- dict I could not give her a satisfactory answer. I met an elderly bachelor who was in tears. I asked him concerning his trouble. He re- plied that he had read that the sun would cease to shine on the earth in 1,000,000 years; he was worrying over the fact that he might be A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 141 obliged to court his future wife in the dark and he disliked such flagrant impropriety. In school trouble flourishes under proper cultivation; heer it blossoms and shoots out roots and hardens into thorns. During the years that should be happy we have no trouble in having trouble. We have lots of it on ev- ery corner and avenue. Year after year goes by, but the prices keep up with the taxes on this collection. I remember one day in school we were to propose examples. I proposed this one: How many cubic inches in one cubic foot contain- ing seven corns and two bunions. I stayed that day eight times as long as fellow would if he had held three aces. There are people who worry and have great trouble over their looks when in fact there seems to be no reason for trouble over so lim- ited a matter. Did you ever see a bald man comb his hair? Did you ever see a person who talked of his ability, and did he ever im- press you with the idea that his ability to talk was the most developed of all? A man has many troubles; he finds it hard to get a suitable mother for his children. Then as his children grow up, they swell up to such 142 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE brief importance; even while having the mumps they puff up considerably. Mounting a broncho is troublesome, but hav- ing your teeth mounted is worse. Lowell spoke of mounting a Pegasus. Judging from what he said, he must have been thrown hard, for he seems to have awakened to the situation and climbed up to fame on foot. Lowell was a great man, but he had visions; one of his visions is widely known. He had trouble in his law practice, or rather in getting one. But he is not the exception. Napoleon had trouble with the English at Waterloo, but the English in true English hospitality took him in, gave him food, clothing and shelter, and gave him a house as long as he lived. In order that he might be free from the worry and trouble of life, they sent him to St. Hel- ena. In the same spirit of hospitality they sent the Boer leader Cronje to that place of repose. They have always had taking ways about them — a glance at the map will prove it. Their love for America has never been questioned; we noticed it in 1776, in 1812, in 1861, and now they are just captivated by our pale-faced heir- esses. Why, a millionaire may become, by footing the bill, the father-in-law of blooded A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 143 lordships and hear his wife speak of going to see her daughter, the Duchess of Bankrupt- shire, or Sportsmanshall. People are having considerable trouble over the weather; the city people are afraid that it will rain and the farmers are afraid that it will not. One thinks about his shoes, the other concerning his crop. Now, the farmer as a rule gets but very little as his share for pro- ducing the cereals from which breadstuffs are made, so I can see no particular reason for his being afraid of the drought, while the fact of a pair of patent-leather shoes being ruined by the wet, is unbearable. Did you ever experience trouble in putting on a collar when you were in a hurry to catch the train which afterwards you found to be three hours late? One of the curious things about human nature is the sensation that creeps over you when, after tugging at a boot for fifteen minutes in the dark, you find the reason of its being too small is due to the fact that it is not your boot. Why is it you knock it against a pitcher and spill the water? Trouble may be cultivated variously — by marriage, by mortgage, by whiskey, by idle- ness, and by green fruit. By application of any of these, it will put out tiny shoots with 144 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE slender roots and soon the plant will be in full bloom and its odors will be borne on the breeze of comment. Politics and religion will do much to help it along, and neighborly gossip will be of no little aid in growing trouble. All you have to do is to keep harrowing over the soil and the shoots will spring up in every direction. Before election politicians of the community become worried over their local significance; when election is over they drop out of it. Chills cause many much trouble. Pills, wet towels and doctors are consulted, interviewed, wrung and swallowed. I mean the pills are swallowed, the towels and patient's patience wrung; all are interviewed in a way. Warts cause trouble and they do not look at- tractive, yet they grow like expletives do in a sentence. They have no meaning by them- selves, but make things look different. Warts are indignant at that joke about their usurping the rights of the collar button in the neck. I think that is stretching it a little too far my- self. Do you agree? A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 145 CHIPPEWA FALIjS I love to stand and see the art That mystic Nature makes; The color is the perfect part — The sleeping soul awakes. The shadows fade from out the view In gentle tints and shades; The picture is complete and true, No explanation aids. The wild, unharnessed spirit free, Its genius shows to thot That charms like these in living glee, Can never here be bot. A NAP IN A STRAW PILE Did you ever come home from college and when night came on, go into your old bed- room and lie down on the newly-filled straw tick? The feeling of being at home and the 146 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE pinch of a cricket made you on the alert and an air of expectancy would rise: when will the next bite come? The air would be some- what sulphurous and ejaculative, but after all you can sleep well on a straw tick newly filled. Lyman was a poet; at least he had vague ap- prehensions that something was the matter with him. I knew him to be an honest, kind and conscientious feliow. He was pathetic and serious. He had had a love-spasm and some- thing was wrong with his neck; it pained him severely at times. Poor fellow! The object of his affection married a crutch-maker, and so our friend's sweetheart was supported on crutches. We were sentimental, as true poets should be, but Lyman showed it more than I had the courage to do. It was in June, that one day we planned a trip thru the country on our bicycles. In a day or so we were spinning down the road, riding side by side past farm houses, pastures and fields, dreaming of what a splendid thing it would be, were we famous bards of all we could survey. You cannot tell what lies hidden inside a poet's head, and I dare say it was not at all necessary to begin guessing; you do not need A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 147 it in life. What a man wants is a business col- lege diploma showing the expense to which he has gone to realize common sense. I had noticed that Lyman was speaking rather often of my old sweetheart, whom I had quit going to see. By careful diagnosis I thot I saw symptoms of lovesickness, or rather an affectionate indisposition to dwell on her name. We had laid out our route past her home and in the afternoon we arrived there. Lyman was poetically courteous, but I noticed a look of surprise in her pretty black eyes at my coming up to the doorstep where the ivy vine hangs around the door. I have seen several other things hang around her door having the color of ivy and with the rare tenacity of that vine. She bade us in and got Lyman interested in a conversation with her mother, while she and I went for a pail of water. On the way down to the well I made plain that we must go to the neighboring town that evening, and altho we would like to stop with her folks the need of our going made it impossible. When we got back to the house Lyman was discoursing entertainingly on Byron and Shel- ley while her mother tried several times to ask him if he had been born again and had had 148 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE an awakening, and something about spirits and experience. I thot I would exonerate him and told her that he had not had a drop on the way down as the road ran across the country and temptations were impossible of access along the whole distance. Her mother had little faith in my remark and totally ignored it. The evening passed by very pleasantly, and among the noticeable features of the evening was the solicitude with which Lyman so often spoke of its getting so late and the danger of the moon going down. He spoke of the dis- tance to the next town, little thinking that I had told her of the utter uselessness of asking us to remain with her folks over night. We recited poems and I sang some of the old songs we sang when I came to see her. The moon was growing dimmer and dim- mer, and at last we broke up (I don't mean the way she and I had broken up some few years before) and mounted our wheels. In a few minutes the moon had disappeared and dark- ness began to settle down on us. Lyman had met her in another town some months before this, and had formulated a liking for her similar to the one I had possessed in the past, but which I had now brot out greatly revised in the late edition. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 149 "I thot they would ask us to stay/' sighed the weary poet. "I gave her hints enough but I suppose she felt disinclined to have you stay, too. I wish you two were on better terms" (down at the well she said it was a pity I had not come alone), "for I hate this walk. Say, Billy, v/hat caused you two to break up?" "It is too bad that the moon went down, Lyman, but I suppose we must bear it to town." Presently a dark object arose near the road and it soon developed to be a straw-pile. Ly- man insisted on lying down and resting and soon the stars had said their good nights and Lyman was writing in his dreams, poems of immortal beauty, and fair women were sing- ing praises of his verses. Lyman was a true fellow, and his heart was illumed by many beautiful ideas, but the love business was not a profitable affair for him. I awoke towards morning and saw him in his peaceful sleep. The bars of tempting gold streaked the eastern sky; the birds were wak- ing up and twittering in the trees; the grain and flowers were fresh with dew, and the air was sweet with wild perfume. At last Lyman awoke and rubbed his eyes. He saw a house near by and proposed going there for a drink. We approached the door just as the boys were 150 A VOICE OF THE PEALRIE going out to milk. Lyman lingered a mo- ment, then walked up and rapped on the door, and to his great surprise who should appear but his sweetheart number two, a young lady whom he had met after the first had married the crutch-maker. Here stood the poet-lover with his sweater covered with straw, unwash- ed, and hungry beyond definite comprehension. Lyman gave one gasp and climbed onto his wheel, riding away in utter exasperation. I was out of breath when I caught up to him; I was also out of a breakfast. When I had gained his presence he was sit- ting down and writing a poem entitled: "Crushed by a Straw." I got the inspired im- pulse and started one on "How to Cure Bun- ions on Heroic Feats." We reached the town for breakfast and along about ten o'clock I met him coming up the street, sad and despondent; he had failed to get his daylight opus into the village paper. "It is remarkable how little these editors know," said the disappointed straw-pile poet. "I can't bear their poor judgment." As we rode along the road across the winding Sioux his good-humor came back and he could see some exquisite romance attached to the straw- pile. The only thing attached to it that I could A VOICE OP THE PKAIRIE 151 see was the ground and two poets to fame and to blankets unknown. He spoke of the stars watching over us (I noticed a bull-dog in the same business as the stars) and the blue canopy as our covers. It is a difficult thing to think of the halls of fame and lay a weary head on a pillow of straw at the same time. As you make your way so must you walk; I might say, as you make your bed you must awake. BOILS AND OTHER HOT STUFF Boils are points of interest. I think they are too sensitive, especially when in the flush of their existence; in that respect they re- semble some people. If you rob them they get sore, and yet, they itch for a rubbing. I saw one not long ago; it was situated in a prominent place; in fact, by going into detail I might say it is located on an inclined plane; a woman had seen fit and proper to wear one on the peak of her beak. The fact of it being on an inclined plane reminds me of a lazy dog. An inclined plane is a slope up and a slow pup is a lazy dog inclined on a decline. This may 152 A VOICE OP THE PRAIRIE tend to confuse, but the boil was profuse, and you should not refuse if I meekly diffuse in- formation in conformation with her deforma- tion. I had a boil that was hard to beat; it was out of sight, being attached to my medulla oblongata. I tried to keep an eye on it but failed. I walked erect and stiff-necked, like a man after he has been elected alderman for the first and last time. I took a great many pains with that boil; it seemed that a new franchise had been secured for running a line of nerves straight from that spot to headquarters. I got mad one day after much vexatious feel- ing in the sequestered place on my neck, and landed a solar-plexus knockout on the spot. I immediately entered the field of astronomy and saw stars of various magnitudes. But I had knocked the stuffing out of it, and it acted like a pneumatic tire — collapsed; and like a saucy boy just thrashed, it dried right up. My better .5 prepared a dish the other day. As she placed it on the dinner table I must confess I looked searchingly into her kind and loving eyes, and then with some suspicion I viewed the mysterious dish. She called it a Spanish Boil. I was about to say that such a boil would make any person distrust the A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 153 motive and mistrust the intent of any govern- ment. I know that we must go from the known to the unknown. But I had always heard that it was the Related Unknown; here was some- thing which I had never come across in all my experience before. I do not like to hurt her feelings for I do not believe it is right to hurt a person's feel- ings needlessly, but I had dire forebodings that my feelings would be hurt if I partook of that dish. I never like boils as a rule, and this was not an exception to the rule. Besides, I be- lieve in every person's welfare and each one's absolute control of his stomach. I think a man should respect his better half, but I object to having her become an improper fraction. Im- propriety has no place in a proper family. But, you know, a woman can work miracles with her eyes; she can make a man her abject slave, so abject, if you please, that he enjoys his serfdom. A woman is a loving companion, but a tyrannical master. In her devotion she is — well — you know what she is, — she is be- yond description. A woman with a boil is very irritating and easily irritated. I knew this, but of course a fellow does not care to take any chances. I would rather do things that agree with my 154 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE stomach than insult it and do so to agree with her, altho I always do take pleasure in pleas- ing her. We cannot always do as we wish, and I could not in this case. I hid that soup, altho I felt like a martyr. Of a sudden Margarine came in and said she had poured the fly-paper water into that big soup bowl. She explained by saying that she thot it of no use and so poured the fly poison into it. Boulevards! Here I had drank death and soon would be an angel! Heavens! My dar- ling wife cast a hasty glance at my life insur- ance policy on the clock-shelf and fainted. I had to get some cold water to bring her out of her trance. I forgot about dying and was verybusy making her come to, so that I might bid her an appropriate farewell. When she regained her senses her first remark was: "When I cook soup for another husband he will know it; mark my word!" I pressed her to my bosom and tried to comfort her. "Are you dying, love?" "Yes, pet," said I, "dying to live long enough to see your second husband eat soup!" Then I told her not to hurry me for the poi- son had not had time to act. She looked into A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE 155 my eyes to see if I meant it, and as my seri- ous look served its purpose, big tears came into her eyes; her lips began to quiver, and in sobs she put her arms around my neck. When a fellow gets it in the neck that way, he feels like quitting. "Sweetheart," said I, "is there anything wrong with that life insurance policy on the shelf?" "What do you think I mar- ried you for?" she sobbed. "To feed me soup!" "No, no, I did not! You know I love you, even tho you never got me that sealskin cape when you knew Mrs. Pique were to have one!" She wears a sealskin cape and I eat no soup. We have compromised and after this I shall not be obliged to have a boil in my stomach. The only thing which seems to better itself by being boiled down is news. In closing, sometime a fellow is obliged if he avoids being obliged. SUNSET ON THE OLYMPICS To E. C. K. When the evening shadows linger And the pine trees whisper low; And the sun is setting yonder, And the golden gleamings glow, O'er the grand Olympic mountains 156 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE As in silent vigil there On the western side they challenge Any equal to compare. In the evening breeze we see them, With their caps of snowy white. Seem to turn to colors golden In the sunset's tender light; Across the Sound the}* tower, With a grandeur most sublime; On their thrones of ancient ages They defy the marks of time. Here the sun in blazing splendor Melts his sterner glow to gold, And embraces in his fervor Evening's tresses as of old; Then a kiss to us that wonder In his last farewell he gives: Each can feel his lips so tender. Makes the gazer glad he lives. In the valleys 'raong the cedars Soft good nights are heard in love.. And the stars come out to greet us From their celestial homes above; Then the blue and gold have blended And the wind is drifting by, As in rapture we are gazing Up above us in the sky. A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE CONTENTS A fatal suspicion 8 A frightful night 135 Agricultural remarks 76 A life 9 A long time ago 23 A midnight reverie 15 Among the graves - 44 A nap in a straw pile 145 An evening with my album 25 A romance from the farm 18 A vision from the unknown 34 Away on a sunbeam 53 Behind the curtain 89 Boils and other hot stuff 151 Chippewa Falls — 145 Courtship in the grass 17 Do not touch it -. 11 Dust to dust —. * 32 Evanescence and permanence 15 Fate 29 Fragments. 13 His pedigree 54 n A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE In fashion's realm 116 In love - 66 In the moonlight on Big Stone Lake 39. 'Lays of nature 24 Leola. 12 Manhood 21 Margarine's essay 68 McRobes 63 Me and her wuz sweethearts 104 Mount Rainier 139 On Puget Sound 113 On the banks of the Missouri 38 Policy 128 Reading a book 85 Rose of Traverse 33 Rotating on rubber 93 Rough Riders at El Caney 16 Sad. yet dear 31 Since Mary has gone 26 Snoqualmie 134 Spooks above 106 Sunset on the Olympics 156 The disease 57 The drunkard's dream - 9 The gossip 3 2 The haunted mansion 47 The Indian mound 27 The last of a century 5 1 A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE III The mark of a command 41 The music teacher - 61 The ocean of time 52 The omen of the night 83 The prairie fire 135 The prairie home 36 The real idol 31 The silent voice 20 The squire's fad 123 The wall flower's lament 28 The welkin banner 27 The winds of life 21 Trouble and its cultivation 140 True worth 30 Two hearts 38 Under the flowers 28 War 14 When dad wuz out 65 When father went 73 When the baby wuz sick 121 When the time has come 35 Why I quit 126 ^s "A VOICE OF THE PRAIRIE" PROSE AND POEMS BY WIXiHBlXiM HUGO METER BOUND IN CLOTH $1.50 FOR SALE BT MEYER-HENNEY PUB. CO., DeSmet, S. D. or LOWflAN & HANFORD, Seattle, Wash. VOCAL SOLOS BY WniHELM HTTOO METER "Down on the Homestead." "Will I See Her There?" "Along the Sioux." "Sweet Irene." ' ' ' Neath the Drooping Willows. ' ' "Onto the Ways of the World." "On the Streets of a City." "My Rocky Mountain Rose.'' "I Love Another's Wife." "South Dakota March" and "The Weary Willies Waltz" are instrumentals of merit composed by Roy B. Canfield. "The Little Wonder Twostep," by Anna L. Peterson, is a piece well composed. Any of the above sent postpaid to any address on receipt of fifty cents. I I I I I I I I MEYER=HENNEY PUB. CO., DeSmet, S. D. or RAMAKER MUSIC CO., Seattle, Wash. 'ED LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 929 543 6 ill