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SUNSET FANCIES, 
 
 BY 
 
 (/■ 
 
 Georgia M. Harpel. 
 
 } > J > 
 
 ' 1 ' i 
 
 f-m?. 
 
 

 ^^/Lr 
 
 n^l 
 
 WILLIAM F. BART LEY, 
 Printer, 
 21 AND 23 Ann Street, 
 New York, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Kind reader be indulgent in the perusal of this little 
 
 volume, as the poems and stories were written 
 
 at the time only for the family and 
 
 dearest friends of the author. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Sunset Fancies ----- ^ 
 
 Best of All - - - - - - lo 
 
 An Ideal - - - - , iq 
 
 To Daisy - - - - - - ii 
 
 My Sweetheart - - - - - 12 
 
 Birthday Greeting, To My Mother - - - 13 
 
 Birthday Greeting, To Papa - - - 14 
 
 To Isabel - - - - - - 15 
 
 A lyost Moment - - - - 16 
 
 Aspirations - - - - - - 17 
 
 Only ------ 18 
 
 Past and Future - - - - - 19 
 
 A Springtime Idyl - - - - 20 
 
 Shadows - - - - - - 21 
 
 Castles in the Air - - - - 22 
 
 A Second Thought - - - - - 23 
 
 The Quarrel - - - - 24 
 
 The Shattered Idol - - - - - 25 
 
 The Picture in the Watch - - - 26 
 
 Old Treasures - - - - - 27 
 
 Voices of the Waves - - - - 30 
 
 A Birthday Message, To Mamma - - - 31 
 
 Unkind Words - - - - - 31 
 
 Farewell - - - - - '32 
 
 A True Dream ----- 33 
 
 Twilight' s Afterglow - - - - 33 
 
 The Daisy Fortune - - - - 35 
 
 A Faded Rose - - - - - 35 
 
 The False Jewel . - . _ 36 
 
 Vain Regrets - - - - - 3^ 
 
 A Wish ------ 38 
 
 White Asters - - - - - 39 
 
 Then Comes the Night - - - - 39 
 
 Disillusioned ----- 41 
 
 Grace - - - - - - 43 
 
 Nobody Here to See - - - - 44 
 
Say,— Wouldn't You? 
 
 - 
 
 . 44 
 
 A Message 
 
 - 
 
 45 
 
 Roses and Thorns - 
 
 - 
 
 - 46 
 
 A Contrast 
 
 - 
 
 47 
 
 To a Hair Pin 
 
 - 
 
 . 4« 
 
 Before the Arrival 
 
 - 
 
 48 
 
 Unrest 
 
 - 
 
 - 49 
 
 To My Mother, A Christmas Greeting 
 
 50 
 
 An Easter Greeting - 
 
 - 
 
 - 51 
 
 At the Foot of the Cross 
 
 - 
 
 51 
 
 The Sexton's Birthday 
 
 - 
 
 - 52 
 
 A Lullaby 
 
 - 
 
 53 
 
 Baby's Smile 
 
 - 
 
 - 54 
 
 Housecleaning Time 
 
 - 
 
 55 
 
 A Heart's Lament 
 
 - 
 
 - 56 
 
 Peace be Still - 
 
 - 
 
 56 
 
 Unattainable Wishes 
 
 - 
 
 - 57 
 
 Twilight's Hour - 
 
 - 
 
 57 
 
 An Ode to Her Voice 
 
 - 
 
 - 58 
 
 The Flower Girl 
 
 - 
 
 60 
 
 Birthday Wishes 
 
 - 
 
 - 6i 
 
 July Fourth, Papa's Birthday 
 
 62 
 
 After Rain 
 
 - 
 
 - 63 
 
 Youthful Heroism 
 
 - 
 
 63 
 
 On Carrie's Birthday 
 
 - 
 
 - 65 
 
 To Le Roy on his Birthday 
 
 65 
 
 A Letter, (To Carrie) 
 
 - 
 
 - 66 
 
 My Ideal 
 
 - 
 
 67 
 
 My True Love 
 
 - 
 
 - 67 
 
 A Bunch of Violets 
 
 - 
 
 68 
 
 Heralds of Spring 
 
 - 
 
 - 70 
 
 The Maid of the Hazel 
 
 Eyes - 
 
 71 
 
 Yesterday 
 
 - 
 
 - 72 
 
 At Last' 
 
 - 
 
 75 
 
 The Saddest of All 
 
 - 
 
 - 79 
 
 For Faith, or the Home 
 
 Coming 
 
 85 
 
 Two Paths, A Fable 
 
 - 
 
 - 97 
 
SUNSET FANCEKS. 
 
 Bright da}' has faded from us, 
 
 A glory of crimson and gold, 
 
 And night with her cool, dark shadows, 
 
 A soothing tale has told. 
 
 How we, as well as sweet Nature 
 Bow to a higher Will, 
 And all iiiriie in wliisnering 
 A thankful ''Peace be still!" 
 
 And now from day's trials weary 
 My tired brain is free; 
 Strains from the past's sweet music 
 Are wafted back to me. 
 
 vSweet memories hover 'round me. 
 Oft times too dear to last, 
 TJiiclouded. bright, pure visions 
 Of girlhood's happy past. 
 
 O^' 3^outh's bright hopes and fancies: 
 vSo glorious and so bright, 
 They \ anished as the sunset 
 Fades in the v/est to-night. 
 
 Thinking in the soft twilight, 
 Of the lapse of weary ^^ears 
 I look at the fading glory 
 Through a blinding mist of tears. 
 
 Yet there's many a streak of crimson 
 Left me from out the past. 
 Some brighter gleams, and golden, 
 More brilliant than the last. 
 
 Perhaps the past was brighter, - 
 More pleasure and less pain, 
 But I look once more at the sunset 
 And vv'ould not go back again, 
 
BEST OF ALL. 
 
 'Tis good to see the diaiiioiid' .s gleam 
 And the fiery sparks of li.^ht 
 How they brigliten the cheering scene, 
 Those little rays so bright. 
 
 'Tis better to watch the sparkling dew 
 Linger on grass and fiowers 
 And butteniies who come to vvoo 
 Away the sunny hours. 
 
 ' Tis best to see a repentant tear 
 From the trembling eyelid start; 
 To know the crystal drop so clear 
 Springs from a contrite heart. 
 
 And ere it has had time to fall 
 Full pardon had been given. 
 An angel who rejoiced o'er all 
 Kas bourne the tear to Heaven. 
 
 AN IDEAL. 
 
 Only a vision that came in the night 
 
 And drifted av/ay ere the the mornijig light. 
 
 Only a face which I saw in a dream, 
 Truh' the fairest I ever had seen. 
 
 Two eyes sliining bright with a tender light, 
 A pure soul reflected there to my sight. 
 
 A vision that realized mj^ brightest dream 
 And my heart quickl}^ acknov\'ledged its queen. 
 
 But with the first dawn of faint rosy light. 
 My beautiful vision faded from my sight. 
 
 And only memories from v/hich I'll not part, 
 Ever are hovering 'round my sad heart. 
 
 And p'raps though I search I'll n'er find the real; 
 I know that one night I saw my ideal. 
 
 lO 
 
TO DAISY. 
 
 There Is a beautiful garden 
 Filled with rp.any tlowers sweet, 
 And among the gorgeous blossoms 
 Is a pure, white Marguerite. 
 
 A simple, snow-white daisy, 
 With a heart of shinhig gold. 
 Which the sun has made so dazzling, 
 It is lovely to behold. 
 
 She nods a pretty greeting 
 
 To her brilliant friends in turn 
 
 Until tliey all adore her, 
 
 From the rose to the graceful fern. 
 
 She plays an important mission 
 In easing an anxious heart, 
 And Cupid often seeks her 
 With his little fiery dart. 
 
 And many lads and sweet lassies 
 You'll find around the spot 
 And the snow-white petals tell them 
 If 'tis "Love", or "Loves me not." 
 
 There's another Daisy growing 
 In the varied garden of Life. 
 Tall and pure and graceful, 
 Unheeding aught of the strife. 
 
 Standing now on the threshold, 
 Tasting the pleasures so sweet, 
 And still dreaming girlish fancies, 
 Our pure, white Marguerite! 
 
 II 
 
A symbol, the snow-white petals 
 Of a 3-cuiig life, pure and bright; 
 A heart, tender, true and golden, 
 With 3'outhful fancies light. 
 
 And of all earth's fariest blossoms. 
 Brightl}.', gorgeously dressed, 
 With the sunbeams playing 'round them, 
 I love the Daisy best. 
 
 MY SWEETHEART. 
 
 Though enjoying all the beauties 
 Of a perfect summer day 
 I long so for my sweetheart 
 That I wish the time away. 
 
 It I could describe her to 3"ou 
 As I can see her novv% 
 Her golden locks all fioathig 
 And each faintly penciled brow. 
 
 IJps, the red roses' kisses 
 Plave painted that brilliant hue. 
 Eyes-stars of untold glories, 
 Gleaming ever steadfast, true. 
 
 A dimpled hand so tiny, 
 Now ready to smooth m3^ brow: 
 Allows no wrinkles to linger, 
 Ah! how I wi.sh for her now. 
 
 All w^ild and restless longings 
 She banishes from my heart. 
 'Twill be a golden moment^ 
 When we need never part. 
 
 Time's hands do move so slowly 
 On their journeys to and fro. 
 My love has but five summers^ 
 I'm waiting for her to grow. 
 
 12 
 
BIRTHDAY GREETING. 
 
 TO riY nOTHER. JUNE 27th, 1892. 
 
 O'er the hills the day is breaking, 
 'Tis a perfect summer morn. 
 The birds are softly twittering, 
 ''Another bright day is born." 
 
 The pretty garden flowers 
 Shyly and sleepily peep, 
 As the zephyrs try to wake them 
 With the game of hide-and-seek. 
 
 I can count on bright, sweet Nature; 
 The birds and blossoms gay 
 Will do their best to aid me 
 In having a perfect day. 
 
 For to-daj^ is Mamma's birthday, 
 And now a bird's sweet lay, 
 Is trilling there by the window, - 
 "Happ3^ returns of the da>." 
 
 Her children who call her blessed 
 
 With the little ones unite 
 
 In trying to make this birthday 
 
 Of dear Mamma' s more than bright. 
 
 Standing, dear, there in the sunshine, 
 Silver shining in your hair, 
 You of all the summer flowers 
 Seem to me most sweet and fair. 
 
 For your daughter knows the cares, dear, 
 Which have brought each silver thread, 
 And every strand is precious 
 Which crowns that dear loved head. 
 
 Dearest Mother, may lyove's angel, 
 Continue to lighten thy w^ays, 
 And the kind Father spare thee to me 
 For many more birthdays. 
 
 13 
 
BIRTHDAY GREETING, 
 
 TO PAPA. 
 
 Birdling singing 'neath my window 
 Wilt thou pause now in thy song 
 And take a wish for Papa's birthday, 
 I'll promise not to make it long? 
 
 There are many birthday greetings: 
 Health, happiness and good cheer 
 And that numerous more bright birthdays 
 May be thine for many a year. 
 
 But my dearest, may God bless thee, 
 Make the years go slowly by, 
 And each golden moment bring thee, 
 Not one tear to dim thine eye. 
 
 And may every year be happier 
 Than the one that has just past 
 And each cloud its silver lining 
 Be still brighter than the last. 
 
 Papa dear, you know these wishes 
 Find an echo in my heart, 
 And to-day I feel so near thee 
 Tho' we're really miles apart. 
 
 But of all my wishes for thee 
 The one I feel to be the best 
 Is just a simple, — "God bless thee" 
 Which covers all the rest. 
 
 And now birdling you must hasten, 
 Do not loiter on the way 
 For I want j^ou to awaken Papa, 
 With this song at peep of day. 
 
 14 
 
TO ISABEL. 
 
 An infant's coo. Oh, jo5'ful sound! 
 Another gift from God is given. 
 At baby's voice our hearts rebound 
 It changes earth for us to heaven. 
 
 A little girl with soft brown hair, 
 
 Eyes which are borrowed from heaven's own blue. 
 
 The vSnowy lily is not half so fair 
 
 As our baby to whom all praise is due. 
 
 Mother tremulously holds out her arms; 
 
 In them grandma lays baby with a tender kiss, 
 
 In heaven the angles sing sweetest psalms 
 
 As though they could witness earth's highest bliss. 
 
 Far, far away the tidings flj^ 
 
 Another treasure to us is given. 
 
 Two homesick girls together cry 
 
 And with joyful hearts give thanks to heaven. 
 
 What shall w^e call our baby girl? 
 Hosts of names float through my mind: 
 Gladys, Maud, Agnes or Pearl; 
 She must have the prettiest we can find. 
 
 Ah! there is one sweeter far, 
 Dearer too, than tongue can tell, 
 A precious gift to our little girl 
 Is her mother's name of Isabel. 
 
 If I were a fairy, little Isabel, 
 Your life would be happy and blest; 
 But I can only wish thee well 
 And ask God to grant the rest. 
 
 15 
 
A LOST nCilENT. 
 
 A bright opportunity lost, a golden moment past, 
 Gone for all eternity, eluding our feeble grasp, 
 ' Twas a brief glimpse of Heaven which dazzled our tear 
 dimmed ej'es, [skies. 
 
 A glance from Joy's bright angel, so soon returned to the 
 
 The moment prayed and longed for is granted us at last, 
 We're weaving dreams enchanting, retrieving a troubled 
 
 past; 
 Planning a brilliant future of the blissful life we'll live; 
 Hopes that may all be realized with the little word-Forgive. 
 
 The moment came and vanished, leaving its traces on 
 
 the head, 
 Pride, and love, and anger have borne an important part, 
 Words so hastil}^ spoken we'd give our lives to recall, 
 For where sunshine glimmered brightly, now clouds o'er 
 
 sha low all. 
 
 The web so long in weaving is more tangled before, 
 
 The broken threads are numerous, the knots grov/ more 
 
 and more. 
 So heavy grows the burden, and so weary is the strife 
 Alone we can't do the weaving in this tangled net of life. 
 
 So after much weary heartache and struggle to find the 
 
 light, 
 We bring the web to the Master and ask him to set it right. 
 Ah! quickl}^ the threads are straightened^ shining the 
 
 bright, pure gold, [hold. 
 
 Transformed by a touch of His hand, 'tis dazzling to be- 
 
 Heaven's dew revives Hope's flower, its sweet fragrance 
 fills the air, [of care. 
 
 New life the perfume gives u.s^ for lost is the mantle 
 We hear this tender whisper, -"Perhaps on a future day 
 Another golden moment will banish the mist away. " 
 
 16 
 
ASPIRATIONS. 
 
 I want to be wise, I long to be great, 
 When I hear of the deeds of some great man. 
 Oh, if his lot had been my fate! 
 I want to be more than I can. 
 
 Many such longings fill my soul; 
 Why cannot I do some great deed: 
 To save a life or bear a part 
 In such great struggles as I read. 
 
 Could I write a book^ or e'en a tale, 
 Charm all with verses from my pen, 
 Or had I voice like a nightingale, 
 I should be happier then. 
 
 I must be good. Contentment will come, 
 Faintly somewhere I hear a voice, - 
 Thy duty now lies in thy home. 
 There thou canst make hearts rejoice. 
 
 Thou must do thy part in Life's hard way 
 Although to you it seems but small 
 And dreaming is pleasant, but idle play; 
 The same God will protect us all. 
 
 17 
 
ONLY. 
 
 Only one of the tiniest seeds, 
 
 A bo}^ by the wayside flings; 
 
 And in the midst of hosts of weeds, 
 The prettiest blossom springs. 
 
 Only a bunch of flowers, 
 
 To a lonely sick girl given; 
 
 Yet they cheered her many hours, 
 
 And seemed a breath from heaven. 
 
 Onl}^ a kind word spoken, 
 
 But it lessened hours of pain; 
 
 Only a friendly token, 
 
 But it was not given in vain. 
 
 Only a friendly hand clasp, 
 
 Yet it turned a heart from despair, 
 Only help with a troublesome task, 
 
 And it lightened worry and care. 
 
 Only right, to do and dare, 
 
 And the danger soon is past, 
 
 Only a whispered prayer* 
 
 Vet a soul is saved at last. 
 
 iS 
 
PAST AND FUTURE. 
 
 Why vain regrets for the happy past? 
 
 The beautiful dream that would not .sta\! 
 That vanished treasure that could not last, 
 
 A vision that faded too quickly away! 
 
 Visions float o'er nie of happier days. 
 
 When Love reigned supreme; 
 And life was transformed in a rose-coJored maze; 
 
 Ah me! to find it a dream. 
 
 When life was as calm as a summer sea, 
 
 And I though not of to-morrow; 
 Heartaches and worries were strangers to me, 
 
 And I did not dream of sorrov>\ 
 
 Now that is changed most of all, 
 
 I now know the meaning of pain, 
 My heart vSends up a wordless cry 
 
 For the past to return again. 
 
 But a voice replies, tender and sweet, 
 
 "Child, think of the future, for dead is the past. 
 To the narrow^ path turn thou thy feet, 
 
 Thou wilt find joy and peace at last. 
 
 "No more regrets for thy vanished past; 
 
 Thou wilt only live in the present joy. 
 Happiness now will be thine that will last. 
 
 Thy perfect bliss will have no alloy." 
 
 19 
 
A SPRiNGTrriE fDYU 
 
 *Twas on a morn in early 'May^ 
 Wlien fragrant odors filled tlie air; 
 Birds were singing their sweetest lay; 
 The world had never seemed so fair. 
 
 And on that beautiful sunny day, 
 
 A maid tripp-d by so bright and fair, 
 
 Tlie sun sent out its brightest ray, 
 
 The sunbeams played with her golden hair. 
 
 At last she paused by an old stone gate, 
 And the lovelight shone in her bright blue eye; 
 She had promised her love that she would wait, 
 And oh! how slowly the time passed by. 
 
 She plucked a daisy and gaily cried, — 
 
 "I'll find if he loves me truly." 
 
 The snow-white petals fell far and wide, — 
 
 "He loves me, he loves me not — ,he loves me!" 
 
 Some one was coming with a swinging stride. 
 And a happy look on his manly face, 
 As he watched the maid with loving pride 
 As she stood in unconscious girlish grace. 
 
 Then her hands were held in a tender clasp, 
 And a voice murmured in her ear, — 
 "You know he loves you, so why need 3-ou ask? 
 I can tell you more than the daisy, dear." 
 
 Then the old, old story again is told, 
 And both are more happy than tongue can tell, 
 V/e will leave them before their bliss has grown old 
 And wish them joy and a kind farewell. 
 
 20 
 
SHADOWS. 
 
 Quitely resting from the strife^ 
 Not caring to struggle more, 
 Thankful that piece is his at last^ 
 The worst of Life's battle o'er. 
 
 The man who these thoughts are dreaming 
 Has hair as white as snow; 
 He sits watching the firelight flicker, 
 As the shadows come and go. 
 
 Making such wonderful pictures, 
 Reminding him of the past; 
 Of his bright hopes and ambitions, 
 Which were too daring to last. 
 
 Seeing dear familiar faces 
 Flitting by as in a dream. 
 But one lingers clear and longest 
 As though the acknowledged queen. 
 
 His face has pathetic beauty, 
 As shown by the fire's glow; 
 And he watches so intently, 
 As the shadows come and go. 
 
 And the one that stays the longest 
 Is a strangly lovely face. 
 In his dream it still is youthful; 
 Care and years have left no trace. 
 
 Past grief is gladly forgotten, 
 Naught but joy will he see. 
 He smiles once more to the shadow 
 And sighs, — "Love, I'll go to thee.** 
 
 * * * * ♦ 
 
 The room is quiet and peaceful; 
 Shadov»'S have vanished once more. 
 Angels are gladly rejoicing 
 That a reign of pain is o'er. 
 
 21 
 
CASTLES IN THE AIR. 
 
 A girl sat dreaming day by day, 
 Seeing the future a golden maze; 
 Expecting the beautiful visions to sta3'', 
 That the joy will be real and hers alway. 
 
 Her bright face reflected the glories she saw, 
 Her eyes were sparkling and bright. 
 The beautiful castles grew more and more 
 As the day faded into night. 
 
 The foundation was now surely laid; 
 She heeds not the w^arning in her ear: 
 * * Be sure that on a rock its made, 
 Or your folly will cost you dear! " 
 
 " But alas!" she creid — " The sands are near, 
 
 My castle looks so stately there 
 
 I am sure no harm can reach me here, 
 
 My home is so strong and fair. ' ' 
 
 At last it is finished and is so bright. 
 
 And stands so proudly there alone. 
 
 She draws a deep breath at the dazzling sight, 
 
 As she nears her beautiful home. 
 
 But, hark! A storm is surely near. 
 The wind fiercely howls and thunders crash. 
 Her beautiful face is distorted with fear 
 As she watches the fearful lightnings flash. 
 
 The cruel sea rises, and lo! a wave 
 Makes a waste of the beautiful land. 
 Where the castle stood is now a grave. 
 Oh, why did she build on sand? 
 
 22 
 
A SECOND THOUGHT. 
 
 1 wrote a tender message 
 
 For you one winter night, 
 
 But next day I tore it up, dear, 
 
 Things change in the morning light. 
 
 And I felt I must keep the silence 
 Though my heart was breaking, dear, 
 And I knew my little message 
 Was one you longed to hear. 
 
 * ' But you might misunderstand it, ' ' 
 Whispered the voice of Pride; 
 Then I tore it into atoms, 
 And burned it up besides. 
 
 But to-night as I sit in the twilight, 
 Looking at the fire's glow. 
 Watching the shadows falling, 
 Gliding to and fro. 
 
 I dream what might have been my life 
 Had love been my only light. 
 Had I sent to you the message 
 My heart wrote to you that night. 
 
 23 
 
THE QUARREL. 
 
 Jamie and I had quarreled one day, 
 I was very angry too; 
 I never could forgive him; 
 Now, say — Would you? 
 
 We always had been sweethearts. 
 He loved me, that I knew. 
 He wrote me he was sorry; 
 I laughed — Would you? 
 
 For Archie Ray came wooing, 
 He was handsome rich and true. 
 I said that Jamie I'd forget: 
 Now say — Would you? 
 
 Archie came and kept on coming, 
 As a lover comes to woo; 
 But I couldn't stop my heartache; 
 Say — Could you? 
 
 So I told him through my weeping 
 That I loved my Jamie true. 
 I love him just because he's Jamie; 
 Wouldn't you? 
 
 24 
 
THE SHATTERED IDOL. 
 
 I made myself an idol 
 I Ihoiiglit 'twas purest gold, 
 And paid it daily homage, 
 Just as they did of old. 
 
 But there was something wanting, 
 Just what I could not tell. 
 At last it grew so feeble, 
 One day my treasure fell. 
 
 Then fast my tears did gather 
 To see such ruin there, 
 Of what had been so lovely, 
 So stately, and so fair. 
 
 I gathered all the pieces. 
 
 To put them right away; 
 
 But my efforts all were fruitless, 
 
 My labor was in vain. 
 
 I looked at it there shattered. 
 Then I dashed my tears away. 
 It was not worth the weeping, 
 For my idol was of clay. 
 
 35 
 
THE PICTURE IN THE WATCH. 
 
 We were chatting in the parlor, 
 I was in a mood to tease; 
 And he was trying truly 
 My wayward whim to please. 
 
 But nothing said would suit me, 
 My niooil I can't explain, 
 In my heart sprang some new feeling 
 That w^as near akin to pain. 
 
 And to blind those eyes that watched me 
 I grew provokingly at ease, 
 And searched my brain for subjects, 
 I thought most sure to tease. 
 
 I spied his watch and bade him 
 
 Show me the picture there. 
 
 I said, — ** I know you have the likeness 
 
 Of a maid most sweet and fair." 
 
 '* I will show you," he said coolly, 
 " If you really care to see 
 The face of this fairest maiden 
 Who is all the world to me. ' ' 
 
 "I've hitherto kept her hidden 
 From any curious view. 
 But I will not hide my treasure 
 From a friend so good as you. 
 
 *' Here within this golden casement 
 Her sweet pictured face you'll see. 
 Now tell me your opinion 
 Of this maid so dear to me ? ' ' 
 
 Why did life then grow dreary? 
 And I longed to steal away 
 Fearing to betray a secret 
 Kept for many a weary day. 
 
 26 
 
But I gathered all my courage. 
 Laughing, looking in the C'ase; 
 But I saw no wondrous vision, 
 Only my own smiling face. 
 
 With its laughing orbs so tender, 
 Beaming forth their glad surprise, 
 For 'twas only my reflection 
 That met my happy eyes. 
 
 While I looked he shut the cover; 
 Said the face reflected there 
 Would engraven be forever 
 A memory most fair. 
 
 A shy happiness stole o'er me 
 His stratagem won the day; 
 And I hoped the maiden's picture 
 In his watch would live for aye. 
 
 OLD TREASURES. 
 
 Torn and yellow and much crumpled, 
 
 Hidden away from view. 
 
 Bygone treasures and letters, 
 
 Some tied with a ribbon blue; 
 
 And some blurred as if by teardrops 
 
 And hastily put away. 
 
 Oh! what a host of memories 
 
 For me to recall to day! 
 
 I thought them destroyed for ages 
 'Tis long ere I saw them last; 
 These once dear but faded trinkets 
 Seem ghosts of a buried past. 
 Youthful dieams I'd long forgotten. 
 Air castles, all fair but frail, 
 Come floating back to my memory 
 Like a forgotten fairy tale. 
 
 27 
 
See, here is an invitation 
 To attend the tennis dance, 
 And underneath faint pencilled, 
 " May I be your escort? — lyance. " 
 A loveknot of bright blue ribbon 
 From a box of Iluyler's best. 
 A few sweet faded violets, 
 Fondly and tenderly pressed. 
 * * * 
 
 Here's a tarnished, old brass button 
 From an army coat of blue; 
 I almost forget that summer, 
 I wonder, dear, do you ? 
 Favors tied with tin.sel faded, 
 Programmes from many a ball, 
 Lists of forgotten past triumphs, 
 F'allen from Memory's wall. 
 
 So now they rise and comfort me, 
 With their dear dead hopes and fears; 
 Whilst once they were the centre of old 
 
 time 
 Of old-time smiles and tears; 
 Therefor I touch them tenderly, 
 These comrades 1 once loved Vv'ell, 
 And still confide to them safely, 
 The secrets they will not tell. 
 
 There's a picture in a locket 
 Of a smiling boyish face. 
 Has Time but kissed him lightly, 
 Or has grim Care left her trace? 
 Here's a Christmas card traced faintly 
 " Yours ever," in violet ink; 
 And valentines fashioned brightly 
 Out of paper, gokl and pink. 
 
 28 
 
Look at this package of letters, 
 Tied fast with a ribbon white ? 
 I'm faint from their sickl}^ perfiniie, 
 I'll bury that parcel from sight. 
 Now this is better ! I'm laughing 
 O'er this effusion of rhyme. 
 Heart and dart tenderly mingled, 
 
 And love in every line. 
 
 * * f^ 
 
 An invation from Harry 
 
 To a concert at Conway Hal); 
 
 And here' s my feather fan broken 
 
 By Jack at Charity Ball. 
 
 The years fade awaj^ in silence 
 
 In looking back o'er the past, 
 
 And I'm once more in my girlhood, 
 
 Dreaming the dreams that last. 
 
 * * * 
 
 There ! the clock is chiming midnight, 
 
 I shall gather every trace 
 
 Of these long forgotton treasures, 
 
 To throw in the fireplace. 
 
 They long ago served their purj)o?e. 
 
 And now I can place them here, 
 
 Right in the heart of the fire 
 
 Without a regretful tear. 
 
 29 
 
VOICES OF THE WAVES. 
 
 Madly, turbulently beat the waves, 
 Dashinging in on the spray-kissed shore; 
 Receding, then coming with roar and moan, 
 With the same old story for evermore. 
 
 W^e listen and think in wonder and awe 
 Of the wondrous tales they could enfold, 
 Of shipwrecked lives and ruined hopes; 
 All make up the story as sad as 'tis old. 
 
 But to-day as I sit on the sunny shore 
 Watching their fearless and frolicsome play, 
 They whisper to me of naught but joy, 
 Of beautiful secrets they only can say. 
 
 For the sky is bright and clear and blue. 
 Gazing into a sea quite calm. 
 And it seems but a myth that those playful waves 
 Ever wrought shipwreck, or havoc, or harm. 
 
 And I wonder if 'tis the v.'ay with some lives: 
 When their sky is clear they are calm and sweet; 
 But should storm arise they beat and dash, 
 Until havoc and shipv/reck are laid at their feet. 
 
 But to-day one can think of nothing but peace, 
 
 For the very wave beats are all in tune, 
 
 As they softly, timidly kiss the vSand, 
 
 And sooth into sleep with the song they croon. 
 
 30 
 
UNKIND WORDS. 
 
 This world would be a purer place, 
 If people would onlj' beware 
 Of hasty and unkind words, 
 Uttered with never a care. 
 
 ]3ut the sting they leave behind 
 And the anguish they cause and despair. 
 And the woe that is sometimes wrought 
 Are thoughts which we cannot bear. 
 
 A saddened, lonely heart 
 Has griefs enough and woe, 
 Without the slurs and cuts 
 Which make the cup o'erfiow. 
 
 How much brighter Life would be 
 If each would do their part 
 To heal another's wounded feelings. 
 And cheer a wearj^ heart. 
 
 A BIRTHDAY HESSAGE. 
 
 TO HAnriA: 
 
 May every bird sing sweeter 
 And all things be in tune, 
 May each flower's bloom be brighter 
 On this dear day in June. 
 
 And in their sweetest perfume 
 With birds' songs from every tree, 
 In the depth of all Nature's music 
 Find a message, dear, from me. 
 
 The zephyrs now grow softer 
 And blue are the skies above 
 While they all repeat the story 
 For my message, dear, is Love. 
 
 31 
 
PARfiWELL. 
 
 Don't look so sorrowful, dear one, 
 It was not your fault, you know. 
 You could not help my loving. 
 Men lovv- for weal or woe. 
 
 And you could not help but scatter 
 
 My castle of love at my feet; 
 
 Thouj^h my hope died out with the dying day 
 
 You could not help it, sweet. 
 
 How could you be to blame, dear, 
 VoT being your s\.veet self, pray, 
 And how was I to love you more, 
 And worship you day by day? 
 
 The very first moment I saw you, 
 I crowned you my queen, my ideal; 
 And ever as the years rolled by 
 Would you some new grace reveal. 
 
 No man could help worship you; 
 They should all bow at your feet. 
 No act or word of yours but charmed me. 
 You seem perfection, sweet. 
 
 Your ]->icture for years and years, dear, 
 lias nestled around my heart, 
 Aiud o'er it I've dreamed sweet dreams, love, 
 When we were miles apart. 
 
 All prosaic work grew brighter. 
 I worked for your praise; and you 
 Felt inspired with every picture. 
 All success to you is due. 
 
 Every morning I WM)uld whisper 
 "Will my queen be pleased with this?" 
 And just the joy of so believing 
 Would bring its own sweet bliss. 
 
 32 
 
But I dreamed not of fulfillment. 
 I simply worshiped at your feet. 
 I knew you were too far above me. 
 What! tears falling for me, sweet? 
 
 Don't you know you arem}^ idol? 
 I cannot have you weep for me. 
 There's not a girl in all the world, dear, 
 Will bear comparison to thee. 
 
 And I would not give up loving, 
 Though the pain is hard and real. 
 For vv'hat e'er may be my fate, dear, 
 I have found my Life's ideal. 
 
 TWILiGHT'S AFTERGLOW. 
 
 After the days maddening hustle, 
 And the hurrying to and fro, 
 Then a rosy tint and a peaceful light 
 We call twilight's afterglow. 
 
 And when we have passed Life s brilliant noon 
 And reached the twilight, soft and low, 
 W^e can look back on youth's troubled past 
 From peaceful twilight's afterglow. 
 
 A TRUE DREAfl. 
 
 A wonderful dream came to me once, 
 
 Many long years ago; 
 But the same bright vision surrounds me now, 
 
 And will never leave me, I know. 
 
 I thought the Judgment Day had come, 
 
 All were there from earth and the realms above. 
 
 And I dreamt I knelt at the Judge's feet 
 In the shadow of his love. 
 
 33 
 
Though I saw so much of grief and woe, 
 
 My sense of peace was sweet; 
 As I nestled there on my bed of clouds, 
 
 Close to the Judge's feet. 
 
 I saw those Vv^hose faces were wild with despair, 
 Others vsliown with a holy delight; 
 
 As they went up or down as the Judge decreed, 
 And floated slowly from my sight. 
 
 The saddest part of my strange dream 
 
 Was that the Saved were few; 
 But wlien I remember my honored place — 
 
 Ah! if that part will onh^ come true! 
 
 If but on that great Judgment Day, 
 
 All our dear friends we shall meet! 
 
 We'll find there perfect joy at last 
 Close to our Savior's feet. 
 
 A FADED ROSE. 
 
 Only a red rose whithered, 
 With all its fragrance gone, 
 And even some leaves are missing, 
 Crumpled and scattered and torn. 
 
 But from each of its faded petals, 
 A message is breathed to me; 
 And that is Vv^hy I press the rose 
 And treasure it tenderl3\ 
 
 The message softly whispered. 
 Fell on my ear that night; 
 'Twas scarce defined, yet I understood 
 The rose say, — "All is right. 
 
 34 
 
 ' » 
 
THE DAISY FORTUNE. 
 
 We were ending our walk slowly, 
 Wandering the meadow through; 
 The sun the hills had hidden; 
 The grass seemed wet with dew. 
 
 The field was white with daisies, 
 Sprinkled thickly here and there 
 With red and white sweet -clover 
 And other blossoms fair. 
 
 The air was sweet with perfume, 
 And from a forest tree 
 Songs from belated night birds 
 Were wafted back to me. 
 
 The notes were sad and plaintive^ 
 And our talk quite died away. 
 A strange restraint came o'er me 
 Brought by the birds' sad lay. 
 
 For he had not spoken plainly, 
 And my heart was faint and sad; 
 And it needed all my courage 
 To make my voice sound glad. 
 
 His stay would soon be over. 
 Why were we sad to-day? 
 These last few golden hours, 
 Should be of the gayest, gay. 
 
 I paused to pluck some daisies; 
 
 He bade me his fortune tell, 
 
 And I found his sweetheart loved him, 
 
 And loved him more than well. 
 
 His voice faltered as he whispered, — 
 '•Tell me is this really true? 
 There's but one can answer surely. 
 And that one, dear, is you." 
 
 35 
 
r thought what is more bh'ssful 
 Thau love and hope and youth? 
 As I answered, brightly blushing, — 
 ''The daisy told the truth/' 
 
 After lie had left me 
 
 Alone in the lane that night, 
 
 I ran away to the meadow 
 
 By the moonlight, soft and bright. 
 
 And there in the pathway narrow, 
 Found the daisy tossed away 
 And named it, with warm kisses 
 My talisman from that day. 
 
 'Tis years since that .summer evening, 
 Yet it always seemed to me 
 The daisy proved a mascot 
 To me, love, and to tUee. 
 
 And here a tiny blossom dear 
 Is running down the meadow lane. 
 Come here, my darling Daisy? 
 Mamma's made a daisy chain. 
 
 THE FALSE JEWEL. 
 
 Once on my lonely wanderings 
 
 I found a treasure rare; 
 
 And ni}' heart o'erflowed with gladness 
 
 To find a jewel so fair. 
 
 I rejoiced o'er my good fortune 
 And life ne'er seemed to me 
 Half so bright and lovely, 
 So beautiful and free. 
 
 I caressed m}^ lovel}^ jewel 
 And placed it next my heart. 
 Come what might, resolving 
 That we would never part. 
 
How I gloried in its splendor, 
 V/hicli dazzled and pleased the sight. 
 I could never weary gazing 
 On its sparkling radiant light. 
 
 I began to love it dearly; 
 It crept far into my heart, 
 Till now it seemed my treasure 
 From which I could not part. 
 
 Tliose who saw my Idol worship 
 Ureathed a warning in my ear: 
 * 'All is not gold that glitters. ' ' 
 But their whisper I'd not hear. 
 
 I treasured it e'en more fondly, / 
 
 And only lived to gaze / 
 
 Upon its dazzling beauty, 
 In wonder and amaze. 
 
 Till many years had vanished 
 And I saw another jev,^el; 
 Its pure light clearly shining — 
 My awakening seemed cruel. 
 
 For when I sought my treasure, 
 I saw through its false glare. 
 Its light, my eyes reflected, 
 I found no true spark there. 
 
 But though my jewel deceived me, 
 With its glitter, false though fair, 
 I could not cast it from my heart, 
 Without a thought of care. 
 
 The love I had lavished o'er it 
 Through all the wear}^ years! 
 It had been my loved companion 
 Through smiles and frowns and tears. 
 
 37 
 
But I never could abide falsehood, 
 So put it gently from my heart, 
 And now from glittering treasures 
 I walk my way apart. 
 
 For though the other sparkles purely, 
 And is very fair to see, 
 No second jewel can take the place 
 That was held and lost by thee. 
 
 VAIN REGRETS. 
 
 Oh, dear! I've thrown away my dolly; 
 It was such a lovely dolly to. 
 She had golden hair, so soft and shiny, 
 And the sweetevSt eyes of blue. 
 
 And I did love my dear, dear dolly. 
 But something went wrong one day, 
 Till I even grew angry with my dolly, 
 And then I throwed her far away. 
 
 Now, I've looked and looked and I can't find her, 
 
 And I'm sorry, as sorry can be. 
 
 I know you'll never be happy, dolly. 
 
 With no little girl for mother but me. 
 
 'Tis years and years since a tiny baby. 
 Looked sadly out on the busy street, 
 For a trace of the doll she had discarded 
 Which now when lost seemed doubly sweet. 
 
 A WISH. 
 
 Oh! could I wish for thee something 
 
 So sweet, so inexpressively dear. 
 
 That would brighten thy eyes and gladden thy heart, 
 
 And cast out all shadows and fears! 
 
 38 
 
All! if tlie wishes that dwell in my heart 
 Conld be written in words I know, 
 Tlieir ardor would reach to the end of the earth, 
 Wlierever 5-011 were they would go. 
 
 They would reach you at last and cast o'er you 
 A spell of happiness, beauty and love, 
 Atid beauty would last and love would be true, 
 True as the heaven above. 
 
 And surround you and bless 3'ou all of your life. 
 And if sorrow comes to 3'ou one day. 
 The' 11 guard you so tenderly and shield you so well, 
 All trouble must fade away. 
 
 WHITE ASTERS. 
 
 Summer has long ago vanished, 
 And cooler 'tis growing each day, 
 And the sharp touch of the breezes 
 Have frightened the flow^ers away. 
 But into the heart of the meadow 
 I wandered: and hid from the cold. 
 Found a lingering breath of the summer, 
 White Asters with hearts of gold. 
 
 THEN cones THE NIGHT. 
 
 Bright, laughing Day has bidden us, 
 A lingering, blushing adieu. 
 And Night with her shimmering mantle 
 Hides the soft flushes from view'. 
 
 She has given the hills sweet kisses, 
 Which have traced a glory there, 
 Fading to a soft radiance, ^ 
 
 When touched by the evening air. 
 
 39 
 
Now, Night draws closer her mantle 
 Gleaming with many a star, 
 Like gems they peep through the fastening, 
 And banish shadows afar. 
 
 Then the moon's bright, shining glory 
 (Though but a faint touch of day) 
 Pervades the night with a splendor 
 Which naught can drive away. 
 
 A sweet echo from the woodlands, 
 A belated night bird's song, 
 His anxious mate assuring 
 He will not tarry long. 
 
 A slight figure rushes wildl}' 
 Into the calm cool night. 
 'Tis not the moon's weird shadows 
 Which makes her face so white. 
 
 'Tis a young heart's first real sorry, 
 And through the still night air, 
 While sobbing stirs the echoes. 
 And tells a heart's despair. 
 
 E'en stars' bright eyes grow misty 
 To see such grief and care, 
 And the dew their pearly tear-drops. 
 Moisten the girl's dark hair. 
 
 The leaves of the oak and maple 
 Are whispering lullabies; 
 And the plaintive evening zephyrs 
 Seem echoing her deep sighs. 
 
 'Till, suddenly as she listens 
 
 To file rustic in the trees, 
 
 She thinks 'tis words they murmur 
 
 Which are caught up by the breeze. 
 
 40 
 
An unseen hand seems stirring them, 
 And there where she trembling stood, 
 All nature seemed thus murmuring, — 
 **Take comfort! God is good?" 
 
 Hushed was her heart's wild throbbing, 
 Again she seemed to see 
 A child w4th her bible standing, 
 Close to her mother's knee. 
 
 These words from the Past's deep shadows, 
 Like rays from the crimson west: — 
 ^'Come unto me all ye weary, 
 And I will give thee rest, ' ' 
 
 The figure mo^^ed away slowly. 
 
 Her pale face all aglow; 
 
 Murmuring, — "Thanks, peaceful Nature, 
 
 For soothing thus my woe." 
 
 DISILLUSIONED. 
 
 The fire burned bright and cherrily, 
 Throwing out manj- a ray 
 On a girl who sat beside it. 
 And a dog that near her lay. 
 
 These two were close friends and comrades; 
 To him she her secrets confessed; 
 And a safe confident she found him. 
 The most silent and the best. 
 
 To-night her bright eyes were beaming, 
 With a joy they could not hide; 
 She had hastened to find old Rover 
 And to him her hopes confide. 
 
 "To-night I'm to go to the tall dear, 
 And I shall meet him there. 
 So I must look my loveliest, 
 And my prettiest costume wear. 
 
 41 
 
*'P\)r to-day he returned from th^ jotirne}^ 
 Which he took at my hasty word, 
 But Fin ready to own my short comings, 
 For I was young and absurd. 
 
 "A coquettish girl, and silly, 
 Kut I've repented with tears; 
 And 'tis ages since we parted, 
 Just think, old frfend — five years! 
 
 "But I shall see him to-niglit once more; 
 I know he will be the same; 
 Glad to make up and forgive me, 
 And read}^ to 1)ear the blame. 
 
 **.^ee! I'm dressed as he liked me best, 
 All in sliinunering white. 
 Good-bye, doggie. I'll tell the rest 
 When I come home to-night." 
 
 Well; yes, at the ball she met him. 
 But all was not the same; 
 Though his face grew bright and glowing 
 As he whispered her loved name. 
 
 He had brought a lady with him. 
 Who was not so young and fair, 
 Jhit who clung to tlie arm of her escort 
 As though 'twas her right to be there. 
 
 And after a moment's confusion 
 Which seemed to take a life 
 He introduced the lady 
 As his "most honored wife." 
 
 The girl danced the whole evening, 
 And seemed the gayest there. 
 She was pronounced the sweetest! 
 The bell! and the most fair! 
 
 42 
 
But a thankful sigli escaped her 
 When her carriage came at last, 
 And she was alone in quiet 
 To review the hours past. 
 
 She has reached her home in safety 
 Where Rover waits to hear 
 All the ne\vs that she might tell him, 
 Be it happy or most drear. 
 
 She threw herself beside him, 
 
 Her tears on his rough coat fell. 
 
 "Oh Rover! I promised to tell you, 
 
 But, ' ' — sobbing, * 'there' s nothing to tell]' ' 
 
 GRACE. 
 
 Laughing, teasing ail the day. 
 Yet with such a winsome way 
 One can never say her nay, 
 
 Dear Grace, 
 
 Sunbeams linger in her hair, 
 Roses bloom on cheeks so fair 
 As though they loved to linger there 
 With Grace. 
 
 And when bright gleams the brown eyes take, 
 I do not wonder stout hearts ache 
 With wordless longing for your sake, 
 Miss Grace. 
 
 Mischief always is her text 
 *Tis impossible to be vexed 
 Though you never know what's next 
 With Grace. 
 
 Wishing ere to share the gleams 
 That within her life there beams, 
 With those whose lot more dreary seems, 
 
 Is Grace. 
 
 43 
 
NOBODY HERE TO SEE, 
 
 vSupposing I kiss his picture 
 And whatever harm can there be 
 If a tear falls on his writing 
 For there' s nobody here to see. 
 
 And if I caress a trinket 
 Or fondle a lock of hair 
 \¥liat matter my deep blushes, 
 For there's nobody here to see. 
 
 And the rose by somebody given,, 
 Somebody dear to me. 
 Suppose my kisses rain upon it, 
 There's nobody here to see. 
 
 And if my heart is aching 
 With a fierce unspoken woe, 
 My secret's safely hidden 
 For there's nobody here to see. 
 
 SAY WOULDN'T YOU! 
 
 I like a Scotch lassie, 
 With eyes a dark hue, 
 And cheeks red as roses, 
 
 Sa}^ wouldn't you? 
 
 Her ways are so winning, 
 Her heart is so true, 
 I see her quite often; 
 
 Say, wouldn't you? 
 
 In her sweet face beaming, 
 
 There's dimples a few, 
 
 I sometimes just kiss them; 
 
 Say, wouldn't you? 
 
 I'm not very ancient, 
 
 Or ready to woo, 
 
 But still I must love her! 
 
 Say, wouldn't you? 
 
 44 
 
A riESSAQE. 
 
 I'll send my boy a message, 
 And I wish the stars to hear, 
 That they may bear it quickly, 
 To one I hold so dear. 
 
 To him who is far from us, 
 Awa}^ 'neath southern skies. 
 They vAll know him by the sparkle 
 In his sunny azure eyes. 
 
 His ringing boyish laughter, 
 And the broad and noble brow, 
 His bright and manly bearing 
 Methinks I see him now. 
 
 And perhaps you too will aid me, 
 Thou gentle evening breeze, 
 Stirring so soft, yet quickly 
 Midst the ash and maple trees. 
 
 Ah! Yes, I know you've caught it, 
 And are ready to depart. 
 To whisper to my darling 
 An echo from my heart. 
 
 'Tis only a loving message, 
 Which the wind and stars will bear, 
 Fond love, bright hopes, deep longing, 
 'Mid all, a tender prayer. 
 
 That a strong sure hand may guide him, 
 O'er the rough and stony way; 
 Ever aiding, ever helping 
 Through each bright or dreamy day. 
 
 Now, dear zephyrs, gently stirring, 
 With some deep and hidden joy. 
 Please remember all my message, — 
 ' 'God bless, and keep my boy. ' ' 
 
 45 
 
R0SE5 AND THORNS. 
 
 My little maid comes pattering; 
 On her face the color glows; 
 Hidden away in her apron 
 Is many a fragrant rose. 
 
 Then so quickly coming near me. 
 With her apron held so tight. 
 And her face upturned towards me 
 With a happy beaming light, — 
 
 Told me of the tramp she'd taken — 
 Joy shown in her hazel eyes — 
 To gather these fragrant roses 
 To give Mamma a surprise. 
 
 Letting fall her dainty apron 
 Showering roses, red and white; 
 But to me she seemed the sweetest, 
 Smiling there so fair and bright. 
 
 Then she broke a lovely cluster, 
 Sparkling with the dew of morn 
 When suddenly a cry escaped her, — 
 "Oh, dear! Mamma there's a thorn!" 
 
 Holding up her bleading finger, 
 With the tender flesh all torn, 
 Sobbing, — "I'd have left the roses 
 If I'd known there was a thorn." 
 
 Tenderly I soothe my darling, 
 While I kiss the tears away. 
 And whisper, — "If we want the roses, 
 We must take the thorns away. ' ' 
 
 But as I watch the bright sunbeams 
 Kiss her sweet and plaintive face, 
 I pray her path may be all roses. 
 And if thorns, they'l! leave faint trace. 
 
 46 
 
A CONTRAST. 
 
 There's a house full of children 
 111 our modest home. 
 And I never know the luxury 
 Of a moment quite alone. 
 
 Five little pair of feet to clad, 
 And five hungry mouths to feed, 
 Onh' a very slender purse 
 To get what the children need. 
 
 Rob and Nettie often tumble 
 And wee Susie bumps her head, 
 I alwa3^s sigh most happily 
 When I see them safe in bed. 
 
 Bessie would tear her pinafore 
 So many times a daj^ 
 The only comfort ever near 
 Is my six months baby Ray. 
 
 In the next house b}'' the window 
 Enjojdng breaths of new hay, 
 Rocking and reading at leisure 
 Is the lady over the way. 
 
 When I think of your joy and ease 
 And contrast your fate with mine, 
 Ah, how gladly would I change 
 My lot in life with thine. 
 
 Hark to the tramp of many feet, 
 Thrown open the kitchen door, 
 Alas! tracks of those muddy boots 
 Are shown on my shining floor. 
 
 I must smother my vexation, 
 For their lips are on m}^ face 
 And I am enfolded closely 
 In a rough, though fond embrace. 
 
 47 
 
Whisper how dearly they love me, 
 No one's Mamma is like me, 
 I'm the clearest and the nicest 
 All four together agree. 
 
 I fondly clasp tears and scratches. 
 Whilst with moist eyes I say, — 
 * 'Thank God, I cannot change places 
 With the lady over the way. ' ' 
 
 TO A HAIR PIN. 
 
 I know yon are crooked and worthless, 
 
 But you rested in her hair, 
 
 Until one day I found you, 
 
 And treasured j^ou since with care. 
 
 Around my watch stem I wound you. 
 Where you attract curious eyes, 
 And though you're a strange decoration, 
 I'd not have you otherwise. 
 
 Yes! you have torn my pocket. 
 And catch in my coat each day. 
 Many a time I've been tempted. 
 But I have not thrown you away. 
 
 BEFORE THE ARRIVAL. 
 
 We are watching an arrival, 
 My old school friend and I, 
 She is standing by the window 
 With an ever watchful eye. 
 
 Will they come? Ah! do not doubt it. 
 For I'm sure it must be fate 
 Made me think to write that letter. 
 Ah, I hope they won't be late. 
 
 48 
 
Dear, the clock is striking seven, 
 Sonietliing's happened to their train. 
 Do you mind if we wait supper? 
 Ah, supposing 'tis in vain? 
 
 Come in the parlor its cooler, 
 We can watch them better there, 
 Oh, I know the tea is spoiling! 
 She was nearly in despair. 
 
 There, I'm sure I hear a footstep. 
 Yes, their coming down the streetl 
 How distinguished one is looking, 
 Oh, how fast my heart does beat! 
 
 There's the bell. My hair iu order? 
 Tell me is my gown fixed straight? 
 Ah, good evening. Glad your early. 
 We feared you might be late. 
 
 UNREST. 
 
 My brain is tired and weary, 
 And yet I cannot rest, 
 So bring your zither and sooth me 
 By playing tunes I love best. 
 
 The air is full of soft music, 
 I am carried on its strain, 
 To a land of sweet melodies. 
 Where nothing is known of pain. 
 
 My troublesome self is forgotten, 
 And selfish thoughts of the day 
 Have mingled v/ith the soft music. 
 And are fast melting aw^ay. • 
 
 The music has entered my heart, 
 And life seems brighter to me. 
 All care and unrest have vanished 
 Thanks to the zither and thee. 
 
 4^ 
 
TO nV MOTHER. 
 {A CHRISTMAS (jREEilNQ.) 
 
 Dear Heart, the bells are chiming 
 Peeling out so loud and clear, — 
 "Peace on earth, Good-will to men," 
 Another Christmastide is here. 
 
 A bright and glorious Christmas, 
 Touching hearts and dimming eyes, 
 Borne of joyful thoughts and tender, 
 Of Him, who descended from on high. 
 
 To save and comfort us, his children, 
 Suffering insult, bearing pain; 
 That we may have lyife internal. 
 When cleansed from earthly stain. 
 
 So to-day must needs be joyful; 
 Though that happened long ago, 
 His presence still is with us. 
 To soothe and comfort every woe. 
 
 Childhood now is but a memory, 
 Dear Heart, when you worked for me, 
 l/ovely, costly presents buying 
 And a dazzling Christmas tree. 
 
 Ah! I remember still the waiting. 
 Lingering anxious in the hall, 
 'Till the parlor doors flew open 
 And we heard the welcome call. 
 
 This Christmas other tots are waiting, 
 While I help dress the tree, 
 'Tis only the same old story, 
 How the golden moments flee! 
 
 There' s not a dear one missing, 
 ]£ach in their accustomed place, 
 Calling out a merry greeting, 
 Smiles are wreathing every face. 
 
 5© 
 
AN EASTER GREETING. 
 
 The sun is dancing merrily, 
 For 'tis Kaster morn you know, 
 The bluebells are nodding gaily 
 As the zephyrs come and go. 
 
 IMa^^ you be happy, dear Mother, 
 On this peaceful Kaster day, 
 And may Heaven's choicest blessing- 
 Shine on you and light your way! 
 
 May life be as bright and joyful 
 And clear as the Easter chimes, 
 And you be as happy always 
 As you were in olden times. 
 
 K'en the birds sing of happiness, 
 On to-day of all the year. 
 For 'tis on an Kaster morning 
 Angels of joy hover near. 
 
 AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS, 
 
 Impatiently bearing her burdens 
 Because they had to be borne, 
 Weary and foot-sore toiling 
 With conflicting feelings torn. 
 
 For happines ceaselessly^ striving 
 With many hopes and fears, 
 Thinking in time she must gain it 
 Through her love, her pride and tears. 
 
 But at last her pride all left her 
 And in a trembling tone 
 She prayed for help to bear the burden 
 She could not endure alone. 
 
 Then an angel drew her weeping 
 
 Awa}* from pain and loss 
 
 And in tender arms encircled, 
 
 She found peace at the foot of the cross. 
 
 51 
 
But Iicavier i^rew tlie burden, 
 AvS the vjeciry years went by, 
 And slie would not ask for mercy; 
 Will not utter a pleading cry. 
 
 THE SHXTON^S BIRTHDAY^ 
 
 'I'lie sexton stood by the open door. 
 Watching the daybreak in the sky; 
 A November morning, chill though clearj,. 
 I'Uocks of birds were hastening by. 
 
 To find a sunnier land than this, 
 Wliere flowers bud and bloom each day; 
 Where winds are soft and skies are fair, 
 And speak of a perpetual May. 
 
 lie watches till they fade away, • 
 A tiny speck in the cloudless sky; 
 •'The years fade just as fast as they." 
 And he turned away with a sigh. 
 
 Twenty-three years he lias been at his post. 
 Faithfully serving his Master's time; 
 'I'woukI not be vSunday if we did not hear 
 A reminder in the l:>eirs sweet chimes. 
 
 J'^arly and late, without complaint, 
 Toiling faithfully all tliese years, 
 Sometimes pleasures and sometimes x)ain, 
 i^iany sweet hopes and many fears. 
 
 And now 'tis liis birthday morning; 
 Sixty-one years' old to-day, 
 Jiis tliouglits are not Vv-ith the Present, 
 r)Ut back to the Past they will stray. 
 
 He sees a bright girl standing near him, 
 And ktiows 'tis the wife he has won, 
 Who has borne half the worries and troubles 
 Since they life together begun. 
 
 52 
 
He cannot see all the changes 
 Wroug-ht by tlie hand of time: 
 They are beautified and softened, 
 -Made l)y much love divine. 
 
 We will leave him here in the sunshine, 
 With bright memories of the past, 
 With many kind friends around him 
 And a love that will always last. 
 
 The bells chime out so gaily, 
 And we'll join with them to say,- 
 "Many another bright birthday, 
 And happy returns of the day." 
 
 A LULLABY. 
 
 The birdlings all have closed their eyes, 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep. 
 
 The stars are twinkling in the skies, 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep, 
 
 vSafely cradled on my arm 
 
 Mother guards thee from all harm, 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep. 
 
 Father's journeying on the sea, 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep. 
 
 Thinking oft of babe and me, 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep. 
 
 May bright angels guard thee dear, 
 
 Alwa3"S may they hover near, 
 
 My baby, sleep. 
 
BABY'S SMILE. 
 
 My dearest hopes are centered 
 111 baby's little'cot; 
 It stands wliere Io\'e has fashioned 
 A most inviting sjDOt. 
 
 In a pleasant nursery 
 Where perfume fills the air 
 And rich and pretty trinkets 
 Speak of a tender care. 
 
 I kneel beside my darling 
 A loving watch to keep, 
 And raethinks tlie angels too 
 Will guard her there asleep. 
 
 My treasure still slept soundly 
 And I knelt there the while 
 Till when I looked up quickly 
 I saw the baby smile. 
 
 The tiny face so joyous 
 She must have happy dreams 
 I gaze at her in wonder, 
 vSo love] 3^ baby seems. 
 
 I recall tales nurse told me, 
 Many long years ago: 
 How to interpret signs 
 If tlic}' mean weal or woe. 
 
 How when angels hover near " 
 Tliey spread o'er her their wings; 
 Baby smiles, for they whisper 
 Such hosts of tender things. 
 
 Still kneeling by lier cradle 
 I pray for her, so dear, 
 And ask the I,ord that angels 
 May always liover near. 
 
 54 
 
HOUSKCLEANING TiflE. 
 
 T sat one day b}' the window, 
 My pen striving to keep time 
 With my happy thoughts and fancies, 
 Trying to place them in rhyme. 
 
 I had now succeeded better 
 Than I ever dared to hope, 
 And allowed my aspirations 
 To have a much wider scope. 
 
 My day-dreams seemed now more likely 
 Than they ever did before; 
 Air castles grew more luminous 
 And substantial, than of yore. 
 
 J>ut just as a brilliant future, 
 Seemed about to fall my share, 
 [ heard my mother call me, 
 Thus — at the foot of the stairs. 
 
 *"Tis time to set the table, 
 Leave }'our conning silly rh3mies 
 When you know how much I need you 
 Just now at liousecleaning time." 
 
 I gather my cherished pajx:rs, 
 And lay them away with a sigh; 
 While with hair in wild disorder, 
 In haste to the kitchen fly. 
 
 My brow is lined with deep wrinkles, 
 And 1 make absurd mistakes: 
 I^ook in the cake-box for sugar; 
 Search the sugar barrel for cakes. 
 
 I fear the clatter of dishes 
 Has frightened my muse away, 
 But 1 trust when he comes next time, 
 ft won't be liousecleaning day. 
 
 55 
 
A HEARTHS LAMENT. 
 
 The house is sad and forsaken 
 But more empty is my heart, 
 For a bow was drawn by sorrow, 
 And I'm pierced by its burning dart. 
 
 Death's white angel came so gently 
 To bear my loved one away, 
 And though my heart was breaking 
 I could not bid him stay. 
 
 ' Tis only a narrow river 
 Which he has crossed before, 
 And I trust I soon will meet him 
 There on the shining shore. 
 
 The dear old home is so lonely; 
 Upon that I must not dwell, 
 For 'tis the will of the Father 
 Who doeth all things well. 
 
 'Tis only a little journey 
 The time will not seem long- 
 Before I go to my dear one 
 And join the joyful throng. 
 
 Though his life with pain was weary 
 He made no plaint or moan, 
 I know 'twas a merciful Fathctr 
 Who called my darling home. 
 
 PEACE BE STILL. 
 
 Bitter tears are swiftly falling, 
 A heart is heavy to-day, 
 F'or Death's angel has descended 
 And called a dear one away. 
 
 Never heeding the weei>ing 
 Or the moan of a breaking heart — 
 Drew nearer, swiftly, noi.selessly, 
 Sundered two loved ones apart. 
 
 56 
 
UNATTAINABLE WISHES, 
 
 Why, now that we have grown wiser. 
 Do we still cry for the moon? 
 Our childhood lies far behind us, 
 Why recall the same old tune? 
 
 We long^ for what is beyond us, 
 As we did so long ago, 
 And will not yield our high ideals 
 For those we could reach below. 
 
 While WQ endure disappointment, 
 Thinking it cannot last, 
 And spend our lives in vain longings 
 Just as we did in the past. 
 
 Our tears did not bring us the moon 
 And will not help us to-day. 
 Somes hopes are as impossible 
 And quite the distance away. 
 
 Yet the clouds have a silver lining: 
 Perhaps in the life to come 
 Our wishes may be granted us 
 As gifts at our welcome Home. 
 
 TWfUQHT'5 HOUR, 
 
 Sitting alone at twilight, 
 Watching the falling snow, 
 With pleasant memories around 
 Of days of long ago. 
 
 The happy days of childhood 
 When all was bright and fair, 
 The path seemed strewn with roses 
 With not one thought of care. 
 
 57 
 
Yes, there were childish troubles 
 When little hearts would ache. 
 But the sun shone all the brighter 
 When soon the clouds would break, 
 
 I love the evening twilight, 
 Past memories are vSo clear. 
 Friends of my youth seem nearer. 
 Their voices I almost hear. 
 
 Voices nearly forgotten, 
 Memory recalls once more. 
 Ah! the changes time has wrought 
 Since those blest days of yore. 
 
 The room is full of shadows, 
 Of 3'OUth that would not last 
 And the wind without seems wailing 
 A requiem for the past. 
 
 Still I sit in the twilight. 
 *'Ah, no, the lights are here, 
 And vanished are the shadows, 
 So come to supper, dear. ' ' 
 
 AN ODE TO HER VOICE. 
 
 Some memories linger without leave. 
 And others by our choice^ 
 But one I trust will never fade 
 Is the echo of her voice. 
 
 I hear the sweet and plaintive strain 
 As I heard it in the past; 
 I hope that memory hovers near 
 As long as life will last. 
 
 The air resounds with melody; 
 I need only close my eyes 
 To dream that angels' voices 
 Are echoing from the skies. 
 
 58 
 
All troublesome, weary fancies 
 Have winged a hurried flight; 
 Only daydreams most enchanting 
 May be my guests to-night. 
 
 But now harken to the music, 
 'Tis a voice to touch the heart 
 And causes, though you know not» 
 The happy tears to start. 
 
 A thousand resolutions 
 Surge in my breast to-night 
 Inspired by those melodies 
 To a more ambitous flight. 
 
 Heart-stirring grows the music. 
 I feel to her is given 
 A voice so grand and beautiful,— 
 A gloroius gift from heaven. 
 
 All happiness seems possible 
 In my present frame of mind, 
 For, guided by the singing 
 I cain pleasant pathways find. 
 
 And now I see bright visions 
 Which shine in the fires aglow, 
 And I hear the same soft music 
 As I did so long ago. 
 
 But soon I awake from musing 
 And instead of the sweet strain 
 I only see dead ashes. 
 And hear the falling rain. 
 
 59 
 
THE FLOWER GIRL, 
 
 Cutting and tending the violets, 
 Watering roses so gay, 
 The flower girl in her garden^ 
 Was singing a plaintive lay. 
 
 Her dark ej^es were bright, though saddened 
 As if b}^ many a tear, 
 And her thoughts had wandered slowly 
 O'er a sad and troubled year. 
 
 Her voice now trembled and faltered, 
 
 'Twas impossible to sing, 
 
 She felt so out of harmony. 
 
 With the bright and lovely Spring. 
 
 Does Roland know, she wondered, 
 That our riches all have flown, 
 And that all my hopes have vanished 
 With my childhood's happy hours. 
 
 And now I am selling flowers, 
 There's another bunch to tie: 
 Sweet peas, pansies and violets. 
 Oh, who'll buy? Who'll buy? 
 
 Just then a traveler passing 
 
 Heard that sweet and plaintive cry 
 
 And paused, for that voice brought memories 
 
 Of happier days gone by. 
 
 And then when he saw the maiden 
 W^ith the blossoms at her feet. 
 With a broken voice he faltered, 
 "My love, at last we meet!" 
 
 And the lovely, fragrant roses 
 Were moistened with happy tears 
 And they never blushed more brightly 
 In the future blissful years. 
 
 60 
 
"I'll buy" he whispered tenderly 
 "Every flower in your garden 
 If you'll agree; my darling, that 
 The girl goes with the bargain." 
 
 BIRTHDAY WISHES. 
 
 TO DAISY. 
 
 Birthday wishes, birthday kisses, 
 All are yours to-day, my dear; 
 Yours in all your youthful beauty 
 Growing sweeter year by year. 
 
 Others bring their gifts and greetings, 
 Birthday treasures, rare and sweet. 
 Mine is but a simple story 
 I lay humbly at your feet. 
 
 Rhyme imperfect, verses faulty, 
 Only truth in every line. 
 Hand in hand with love together 
 Wishing every joy be thine. 
 
 Years and years I watched a daisy 
 Sheltered from all storm and strife, 
 Growing in a quiet corner 
 Of the varied garden of life. 
 
 Slender and tall in her springtime beauty 
 Happily tossing that pretty, proud head, 
 Nothing could ever bend that daisy 
 So all the other flowers said. 
 
 Day by day I watched her growing 
 With each white petal some new g^ace 
 Was unfolded in the sunlight 
 Till at last her lovely face 
 
 Stood revealed in all its glory 
 Flushed by twenty summers' suns. 
 Loveliest flower in the garden 
 She had all our praises won. 
 
 6i 
 
But though most of the leaves unfolded 
 Several petals decline to part, 
 And nestled closely interwoven 
 Guarding well the golden heart; 
 
 But 'tis only now the sunrise 
 And the morning's just begun, 
 The heart will awake my pretty daisy 
 With the glory of the sun. 
 
 Oh! my pure and lovely Undine 
 Let the sunrise last a time. 
 Golden heart still keep on sleeping 
 For now rosiest dreams of life are thine, 
 
 JULY FOURTH. 
 PAPA'S BIRTHDAY. 
 
 Hark to the cannons boom of glory, 
 
 Triumphantly it tells its story 
 
 And its note so loud and clear 
 
 Tells the birthdays of my country dear. 
 
 Gladly we join the girls and boys 
 
 In loud and merry noise, 
 
 And joyous sounds from south to north 
 
 Proclaim a victorious glorious Fourth. 
 
 As to-day is your birthday too 
 
 All my best wishes are with you; 
 
 And the Fourth means more, you see 
 
 Because it has given you to me; 
 
 And though to-day I can't be near 
 
 I wish you a happy birthday, Dear. 
 
 62 
 
AFTER RAIN. 
 
 The grass is wet and the wind is sweet 
 
 And stars, like tender tear- bright eyes, 
 
 Shine in the rain pools at my feet 
 
 And a subtle stillness fills the skies; 
 
 Mysteries cling in the quiet air. 
 
 Low in the leaves when the hush is deep 
 
 Violets dream in the darkness there, 
 
 Breathing soft in their quiet .sleep. 
 
 Thus to the soul that has compassed the strife, 
 
 The trials and troubles, the passion and pain, 
 
 The sorrow and sadnej;s, the heartache of life. 
 
 Then comes such a time as this calm after rain 
 
 When the senses are hushed and passions are stilled 
 
 And doubtings and fearings and questionings cease 
 
 And the whole of one's being is consciously filled 
 
 With the bliss and the rapture and blessing of peace. 
 
 YOUTHFUL HEROISM. 
 
 When you and me is walking, Sue, 
 You needn't be a bit afraid. 
 For I could save you from, I know, 
 The biggest bear thats ever made. 
 
 I never saw such geese as girls, 
 They want to run if they hear a noise, 
 But I alius will take care of you 
 When I ain't away with the boys. 
 
 Now, jest supposin Carlo there 
 Should get as mad as mad could be, 
 I'd never think to run away. 
 Why, no! I'd boost you up a tree. 
 
 And then I'd climb up after you. 
 You needn't laugh, I know you're tall, 
 But I'm so strong I could easy lift you, 
 And you needn't think I'd let you fall. 
 
 63 
 
Why, don't you lj:now that day we slided 
 And you went out when the ice was thin, 
 I wouldn't let you, Sue, be drounded. 
 But in my boots I waded in? 
 
 And when I pulled you out a-cryin, 
 I dragged you home on m^^ coasting sled 
 And I never cried, though I was freezing, 
 And you thought me awful brave, you said. 
 
 And I jest wish a boa constrictor 
 
 Or a great big monstrous bear would come, 
 
 I bet I'd kill 'em jest as easy 
 
 And save you too, and take you home. 
 
 Remember the time the old gobbler flew at you, 
 When we was seeing the chickens fed, [Susie, 
 And I grabbed a broomstick lyin handy 
 And three times hitted him on the head? 
 
 And he toppled over jest as easy 
 And we both thought sure he must be dead, 
 So we went upstairs without our dinner, 
 And hided quietly under the bed, — 
 
 Till grandma called us down to dinner. 
 We saw the gobbler staggerin about 
 Actin kind of tipsy, but if I hadn't hit him 
 He'd knocked you down without a doubt. 
 
 Yes, of course I'll alius be your hero, 
 But oh! lands, Sue, jest look! There's 
 That awful pig that papa told us 
 Ate children — 'zactly like a bear! 
 
 I's scartto death, oh, will 3^ou run, Sue? 
 I tell you he his comin fast! 
 Oh! hurry up, I's got to leave you. 
 I'd give him a hit but I don't dare! 
 
 64 
 
There's the fence, pile over quick, Sue! 
 Now aint you glad I made you run, 
 I told you I'd alius save you, Susie, 
 And didn't we have most awful fun? 
 
 ON CARRIE'S BIRTHDAY. 
 
 'Tis a lovely April morning, 
 Nature' s in her best array. 
 The birds seem carolling gaily 
 Happy returns of the day. 
 
 It is your birthday, dear Carrie; 
 Heartfelt joy I wish for thee, 
 And that each succeeding birthday 
 More happy and blest will be. 
 
 May all your prayers be granted 
 And your dearest hopes come true. 
 May all Life's choicest blessings 
 Be given unto you. 
 
 Birds in the orchard are singing, — • 
 In the garden the bright bluebells — 
 All unite with me in sending 
 Best love and wishing thee well. 
 
 TO LEROY ON HIS BIRTHDAY. 
 
 'Tis a lovely morn in April, 
 Everything is bright and gay; 
 The crocus seems nodding brightly 
 Happy returns of the day. 
 
 For Roy, 'tis your birthday morning, 
 I wish you dear, all joy. [day 
 
 We welcome the youth to our hearts to- 
 , And bid adieu to the boy. 
 
 65 
 
You are manlier and wiser 
 Than your were last year I ween; 
 Manhood soon will be advancing 
 For Roy, you are seventeen. 
 
 May higher success attend you 
 And all your bright dreams construe, 
 A blissful and happy future 
 Be granted, dear, unto you. 
 
 A LETTER, 
 TO CARRIE. 
 
 The birds are singing merrily, 
 Everything seems bright and gay 
 But to me, who only feels equal 
 To writing to you to-day. 
 
 What I say is an old story: 
 The country is dull and slow, 
 Nothing new ever will happen 
 But what you already know. 
 
 Oh! how I miss the gaiety 
 And the friends I used to see, 
 The matinees and concerts 
 Which made life bright to me. 
 
 When will you come and see me? 
 I've asked you many a time; 
 1*11 promise you won't be homesick 
 When you visit this home of mine. 
 
 I find I must finish this scribble 
 As I expect friends at three. 
 Will close with love and best wishes, 
 And surely write soon to me. 
 
 66 
 
ilY IDEAL. 
 
 The evening shadows leng^then, 
 And the day is fading fast. 
 
 As looking toward the sunset, 
 Come memories of the past. 
 
 But sweeter than past memories 
 
 The thoughts now o'er me steal, 
 
 Of the winsome brown eyed lassie 
 I know as my ideal. 
 
 With brown eyes full of laughter 
 
 To tenderness can grow, 
 She seems symbolic of my life, 
 
 Of the sunset's afterglow. 
 
 For though far she may be from me, 
 
 Her memory is so real 
 That she guards and guides my future, 
 
 My sweet brown eyed ideal. 
 
 T. G. 
 
 MY TRUE LOVE. 
 
 My thoughts stray back to days of yore, 
 And again I call to view, 
 The face of one who vowed to me 
 To be ever loyal and true. 
 
 We had many walks together 
 By the wild and restless sea, 
 And to the music of the waves 
 He would whisper low to me. 
 
 How all his happiest moments 
 Were spent in this blissful way, 
 When he might carry my sketch-book 
 Throughout the early day. 
 
 67 
 
Later we would wander on 
 To hear what the band might play. 
 Oh! how quickly to us both 
 The hours would steal away. 
 
 And on the porch at eventide 
 I would often a verse recite. 
 I see him now with wistful eyes 
 Watch me in the fading light. 
 
 When the sad hour at last drew nigh 
 And it was time to part, 
 He proudly told to all around 
 That I was his sweetheart. 
 
 When the carriage wheels were heard 
 W^hich were to bear me away, 
 He could not see in the whole sky 
 A single, sunny ray. 
 
 Now the last farewell's were said 
 And final kisses given. 
 A tear fell from his bright blue eye. 
 For my love was only seven. 
 
 A BUNCH OF VIOLETS. 
 
 Why have the violets I've gathered 
 Brought the tears to your eyes? 
 What is in those blossoms, Auntie, 
 That causes those deep sighs? 
 
 Dear, I know you have a secret, 
 Won't you share it with me? 
 For I am so interested 
 In all that touches thee. 
 
 Child, 'tis only the old story 
 Of a young and trusting heart, 
 And one who excelled in flirting, 
 Yet wished to perfect his art. 
 
Of a short, but happy summer, 
 Fast followed by a bleak fall. 
 The tender birds of happiness, 
 How the frost has touched them all! 
 
 For we were now to be parted 
 My friends said for a year. 
 They did not wish me to see him 
 Or a word from him to hear. 
 And when the long time was ended 
 And no change to us did bring 
 They'd not oppose me further 
 And wedding bells could ring. 
 At last 'twas the time of parting, 
 But sweet balm for my wo^ 
 Was a tiny bunch of violets 
 Plucked that morn long ago. 
 He was to return the flowers 
 When the long years had past. 
 And promise to follow quickly, 
 Then we should meet at last. 
 
 'Tis ten years ago this morning. 
 Ah! how swiftly time does fly; 
 And I've never seen the violets 
 Since we said our last Good-bye. 
 But I received a short letter 
 At the close of the long year 
 Wishing me joy and happiness, 
 'Twas his farewell, my dear. 
 Fate had treated him unkindly. 
 He would not ask me to share 
 His very uncertain fortunes: 
 Perhaps e'en hardships bear. 
 I never since could bear violets; 
 Please, dear, take them away, 
 Their presence wakens memories, 
 I cannot let them stay. 
 69 
 
HERALDS OF SPRING. 
 
 The blue birds and Robin red-breasts 
 And bright messengers of Spring 
 Sing merril}^ and joyously, 
 Of the glad tidings they bring. 
 
 They warble, warble of the sunshine^ 
 Of the flowers blooming fast, 
 That tlie sket and vSnow of winter 
 Are now vanished in the past. 
 
 They tell us of the merry streamlet 
 Which was imprivSoned so long; 
 How a sunbeam broke its fetters 
 And now you can hear its song. 
 
 And that the greenwoods^ are sprinkled 
 With jewels rich and rare; 
 The forget-me-nots are turquoise, 
 Pearls, the anemone fair. 
 
 Moonstones are the large, pure bloodrootSy 
 Dandelion, the topaz bright, 
 The amethyst, the modest violet, 
 Drooping its fair head from sight. 
 
 Then the songs grow soft and sweeter 
 And I think they mean to bring 
 And confide to us bright secrets 
 For their notes have a joyous ring. 
 
 They seem to tell a sweet story. 
 Of a nest among the eaves 
 Or hidden away in the shadow 
 Midst the friendly maple leaves. 
 
 'Tis thus they share their happiness, 
 For we love to hear them sing, 
 And unless the robins waked us 
 Mornings, 'tw^ould not seem like Spring, 
 
 70 
 
THE riAID OF THE HAZEL EYES. 
 TO riY IDEAL. 
 
 Queen of my heart with the hazel eyes, 
 Beautiful vision that comes and goes, 
 
 Linger awhile in the twilight here, 
 
 While I tell you a secret that nobody knows. 
 
 Tell you that all of my boyhood days, 
 
 I have sought in vain for my heart's ideal, 
 
 And just as despair had claimed me her own, 
 Fate has deigned a jewel to reveal. 
 
 And you of the hazel eyes have come 
 
 Into my life with faith to reveal, 
 And sitting we two in the twilight here^ 
 
 I claim you my heart's long sought for ideal. 
 
 I only fear you will fade away 
 
 Into the past like a happy dream, 
 But remember whate'er the result may be, 
 
 You are ever my hope, my love, my queen. 
 
 And this is the secret I whisper low, 
 
 And wonder if you have heard me aright, 
 
 And then I awake, and the shadows are gone, 
 
 And you have vanished with them from sight. 
 
 n 
 
YESTERDAY. 
 
 Where are the hours of 3^evSterday, 
 
 I could not catch them as they passed, 
 
 So swiftly did they glide along, 
 
 They seemed too precious long to last, 
 
 I sigh in \'ain for yesterday 
 
 For it has long since gone its way. 
 
 It seemed all golden gleams of light, 
 Each cloud had turned a ros}^ hue, 
 Each mountain-tip of sorrow, then 
 Seemed melting fast before my view, 
 And life, one long, sweet, happy dream 
 Lit by sunset's slanting gleam. 
 
 I tried to follow yesterday, 
 But soon a stranger caught my hand 
 And said, — "Poor child, turn back with 
 Why follow to unbidden land." [nie» 
 Just then the sky all turned to gray 
 And standing there I saw to-day. 
 
 And as I gazed before my eyes 
 High the mountains rose and grim 
 And there a voice spoke to my love 
 The words that made my eyes grow dim, 
 This deeper grief it seemed to say 
 Is but the joy of yesterday. 
 
 But oh! sweet bygone Yesterday, 
 Gladly would I endure the pain 
 If in the shifting scenes of life 
 You w^ould but hie with me again; 
 And though to-morrow may be gay 
 My thoughts will turn to yesterday, 
 
 72 
 
And I shall wonder are you dead? 
 Or living in your sweetness still? 
 Perhaps in some far distant sphere 
 Some other life with joy you fill. 
 And then with evening fade away 
 Into the land of Yesterday. 
 
 TeIvAzeii. Gkdnky. 
 
 Wriltea by Miss Gcduey for her dear friend Georgia a few months 
 before their deaths. 
 
 n 
 
AT LAST. 
 
 Such a pretty little room in the fifth story of a New 
 York apartment house so tastefully and prettily arranged, 
 with all sorts of dainty knick-knacks and bric-a-brac, such 
 as delights a woman's heart. It was easy to be seen that 
 this was entirel)' a feminine apartment, for it would be a 
 difficult matter to introduce the masculine element without 
 an entire demolishment of the daint}'^ crockery or a general 
 upsetting of the vSpindle-legged chairs and frail looking 
 tete-a-tetcs, which seemed a snare for unsuspecting man. 
 
 In the midst of all this daintiness and seated cosily 
 at a tiny table beginning leisurely her morning meal, sat 
 the mistress of this pretty bower, dividing her time be- 
 tween her breakfast and her cat, an immense Maltese who 
 had been her mistress' constant companion for several 
 3^ears, and who seemed to understand her varying moods 
 as no one else did. 
 
 She was alone in the world with a small income which 
 she helped along with her salary as typewriter. She 
 made friends quickly, but nevertheless felt keenly what 
 a lonely life she lived, and how very, very solitary she 
 felt sometimes. 
 
 Pussy was her only confidant, but this morning it 
 seemed tliere was joyful news to communicate^ to judge 
 by the fiashinf^ smiles and briglitening eyes. * 'J^st think, 
 kittie," she began, *'Itis five years to-day since we quar- 
 relled and I sent him away and told him I never wished 
 
 7? 
 
to see his face again, and it was all about such a silly 
 thing. He was jealous about one of the men in the office^ 
 and I was angry because he would not trust me and wore 
 Mr. Seaman's violets just to show Harry Lee he did not 
 rule my actions yet. Then came the final scene — both so 
 angry that I did not weigh our words, and now I would give 
 all the world to recall those I said. But I never dreamed 
 he would go; never knew he had an offer from the firm 
 to do business for them abroad for years, and was only 
 waiting to tell me, and ask me to go with him before mak- 
 ing the final arrangements. But after my bitter words 
 he packed his grip at once leaving a little note of farewell 
 to me, saying if I ever repented to send a note to the firm 
 and they would forward it to him. Just a word would 
 bring him to my side. ' 'Only i;ay you're sorry, Marjorie, 
 and I will come." 
 
 "But somehow, kittie, I couldn't say it. There, you 
 nod your head! I knew you would understand. I was so 
 proud, kittie, and he knew it and often told me that my 
 pride was stronger than my love, and I believe he was 
 right until lately, when somehow my pride has melted 
 quite away and seemed so unsatisfactory and love grew 
 all in all to me. But for five long years, kittie, I held 
 out and you and I, dear, have lived on and on here all alone 
 just as when he left us, and I heard spiteful Mrs. Green 
 say to-day when you nearly tripped her up on the stairs, 
 something about old maids and their cats; she couldn't 
 tell which was a bigger nuisance in the world. 
 
 * 'But she'll change her tune, now, kittie, for what do 
 3^ou think, dear? At last my pride has gone forever; at 
 last there is nothing in my heart but love, love, love, and 
 
 76 
 
I've written at last to Harry to tell him so; to say with 
 all my heart I'm sorry, and to come home. The firm has 
 forwarded the letter. He is doing- splendidly, they say, and 
 is expected home soon. Oh, kittie! what that will mean 
 to me only you and I know. The lonely, lonely nights; 
 the dreadful dreams, and yet I could not say I was sorry. 
 Oh, God forgive me, I can't forgive myself, but Harry 
 will, for at last I have come to my senses, and pride will 
 never rule me again. Such a little thing broke down the 
 barrier, which for years my pride had built; a picture in 
 an art window attracted my eye. 'Twas called, "The 
 First Quarrel' ' and the face looked just like Harry's when 
 stern and angry he bade me good-bye and the second one 
 — oh God! the woman's fac^ haunts me yet. She knelt 
 sobbing on the sands and the agony of that look v;iH 
 never, never leave me. It was after a storm, and wreck- 
 ings were strewn upon the shore and underneath was 
 written,— "And the Ship went down that Night. ' ' ' Twas 
 taken from Tennyson's poem. I almost staggered as I 
 went home. And kittie, you remember how astonished 
 you looked when I caught you up and sobbed and sobbed 
 (I who had not cried for months;) yes, as if my heart 
 would break. ' ' 
 
 "That night I wrote to Harry and I humbled myself 
 to the very dust. He will not recognize "his proud 
 Queen Marjorie" as he used to call me, in the stricken 
 w^oman who at last had found her heart and deems no 
 sacrifice too great for love. 
 
 "Oh my darling! how can I wait for the ship to come 
 in? These last few da^^s are longer to me, and the suspense 
 is harder to bear than the whole five 3'ears. But think, 
 
 77 
 
kittie, 'twill be over at last, and then Mrs. Green will 
 give less frosty smiles to the dashing Mrs. I<ee than ever 
 she did to lonely Miss Grey. 
 
 "But that is nothing to the fact that there will be no 
 more lonely times to you and me, kittie. Just think of 
 that. Oh! we have almost forgotten how to be happ3% 
 but Harry will reteach me when he comes home at last. 
 
 "There's the postman's whistle. Oh, kittie, my 
 knees shake so I can scarcely get down stairs, but I must 
 
 go, for of course 'tis a letter from Harry. 
 
 ******* 
 
 ' 'Well, kittie, another disappointment; only a news- 
 paper, but oh! Am I awake? It is his writing! See the 
 paragraph is marked. * 'Married, Miss Margaret Halstrom, 
 Isonshire, England, to Mr. Harry lyce of New York City, 
 by the Rev. Henry Astford, London." And on the 
 margin written in, a trembling hand, — "At last, Marjorie, 
 but it came too late, dear, too late! H. L." 
 
 Only that, and to the half-crazed woman sitting there 
 with all the love-light frozen in her eyes, it seemed 
 as though the very echoes, even the ticking of the clock, 
 — the cat's very purring, all repeated the words, — ''At 
 last, Marjorie. but too late, dear, to late." 
 
 Then vSlie roused herself and caught the cat passion- 
 ately to her. "Oh, kittie," vshe moaned, "don't purr so 
 loud. It goes through my heart. I know you are sorry 
 for me. dear pussie, but you can't help me. No one 
 ever can again. Mrs. Green is right. Old maids and 
 cats are a nuisance in the world, but we'll trouble 
 people as little as possible and just live together all alone 
 forever and ever. Won't wc, kittie?" While the cat 
 purred her sympathy and acquiesced, the woman lay prone 
 upon the floor sobbing brokenly. "And the ship went 
 down that night, the ship went down that night." 
 
 .73 
 
THti SADDEST OF ALL. 
 
 **You begin, Florence, and remember we aieall judges, 
 and the one whose story stands the test wins the prize. ' ' 
 The speaker was a sweet-faced woman past her j^outh, 
 but still young and charming, and her two companions 
 smiled upon her approvingly; and the one addressed as 
 Florence hastened to comply with her request. It was a 
 pleasant, cozy picture, the group at the fireside of a pretty 
 old-fashioned bed-room in a country farmhouse where these 
 women, girlhood friends and for many years, had reunit- 
 ed at the home of one of them to spend the holidays, and 
 now at this late hour had gathered in Helen's room and 
 while brushing their unloosened hair exchanged confi- 
 dences, which seemed most natural here by the soft sub- 
 dued light made by the blaze of the logs in the open fire- 
 place which in the glare of the uncompromising daylight, 
 would have been impossible. They had enjoyed the pas^ 
 few days together amazingly and had renewed their youth; 
 retold old stories, reviewed old experiences, relived some 
 of their past in this sympathetic companionship, but as 
 yet none had unveiled any heart secret, no life story had 
 been told and yet all these years they had been parted. Such 
 bright, happy hearted girls, when they said farewell to each 
 other years ago at a fashionable boarding school eager 
 to see lyife — know its joys even though necessary to taste 
 sorrows in so doing. Now they are again together still 
 beautiful, but youth has left them and each is eager to 
 
 79 
 
know the other's story, but as nobody is anxious to bare 
 her heart even in such s^anpathetic company they come 
 to a compromise. 
 
 Bach must tell a story of personal experience which 
 has allected a life, and hers whose is counted the saddest 
 and hardest to bear, wins the day. 
 
 They are waiting for Florence, who begins in a 
 sweet, sad voice, which somehow thrills the heart, and 
 causes one's eyes to fill against ones will, for the story 
 slit tells is simple and common enough in this sad world 
 of ours. 
 
 "The girl I want to interest you in, she began, is no 
 heroine, her greatest talent was loving, and she did that 
 from the innermost depths of her being. She had a lone- 
 ly life but was happy in caring for an invalid sister abcmt 
 whom the fibers of her heart and very life where tightly 
 bound. She was much older than the little vSick girl who 
 was intrusted to her care by their mother who found life 
 too hard a burden to bear and quietly slipped its chain 
 one summer's morning several years previous leaving the 
 two girls to battle with life alone. 
 
 "The old home was left them, where they were hap- 
 py and all in all to each other until the younger died of 
 the incurable disease from which she had suffered all her 
 life. Then, indeed, life seemed to the elder girl to have 
 all changed, — what once charmed seemed dull and un- 
 bearable. But we all know the havoc wrought by grief. 
 The terrible monotony of interminable length; the sleep- 
 less nights of anguish the unutterable longing to clasp 
 once more tlie loved lost one! Our acute sorrow seems 
 more than we can bear. The terrible remorse for impa- 
 
 80 
 
tient words Hpoken or little services unrendered. What 
 need to explain! We have all felt the pangs, more ter- 
 rible because unuttered. A change conies at last when a 
 lover who has been sent disconsolate away because of this 
 same dear lost sister, returned and brought new argu- 
 ments to bear why his suit should this time be considered 
 more favorably. First, they were both alone, she need- 
 ed him especially now, he alone could .soothe her grief, 
 no duty bound her; why not say yes at once, so he argued; 
 until, she worn by grief and loneliness, consented, if he 
 would wait until Nellie had been dead a year, to become 
 his wife, and as no argument would prevail upon her to 
 shorten the period of waiting he fain would be content. 
 
 But in one way he was rewarded, for by his patience 
 with her grief and his long devotion, the whole wealth of 
 her love became his own and she only lived for him. 
 The sun again shown with its old-timed radiance and the 
 brooks made the same sweet music and the notes of the 
 birds took the same glad ring which had been lost to her 
 ever since Nellie died, And they were happy. 
 
 One month more and the probation would be ended, 
 and those two who were all in all to each other, would be 
 man and wife; and each looked eagerly to the time when 
 partings would be things of the past. Then the war 
 broke out and he was obliged to join his regiment. A 
 sudden call ! only time for passionate farewell kisses, an- 
 guished sobs, cheering words of hope, a last good-bye 
 embrace, and she was once more alone. 
 
 What need to tell her loneliness. Have we not felt 
 the same, when some beloved form has left us for some 
 danger from whence he may never return? 
 
 8i 
 
Eagerly she searched the papers for some word to 
 avail. Then came the battle. He fell mortally wounded. 
 Some comrade wrote home. He sent his love and a love 
 token. She did not die; she just lived on and people who 
 knew her story were kind to the broken hearted woman 
 who lived only for others and waited patiently for the 
 time when the bugle would call her too and she could 
 join her soldier lover never to be parted again. This was 
 the story. She loved him and he died. 
 
 Her voice faltered and stopped. The others' silence 
 was more eloquent than speech as they pressed a kiss 
 upon Florence's bowed head. 
 
 Then after a pause Marjorie began in a low voice 
 with her hand clasped in Florence's: "Mine is shorter 
 and not so sad as yours, just an every-day experience, 
 out of a life. 
 
 "My heroine grew to womanhood; had many fan- 
 cies; some were even love affairs; but none affected her 
 seriously until at last she met the man for whose sake 
 she would have faced poverty, or given up everything life 
 held most dear. He was much older than she and ver}- 
 clever, consequently it was an honor to know she attracted 
 him when he scarcely glanced at the other girls. 
 
 First her vanity was touched by his little flatteries, 
 his confidences and his attentions, that her heart, and 
 until before she was aware of it, herself, her very life was 
 his for the asking. 
 
 But the man seemed more interested in science than 
 hearts except as a psychological stud)^ and looked upon 
 the girl as a good listener and safe confidant so different 
 from the girls of the day that he scarcely could finish his 
 
 S2 
 
W(»rk fast enough to hasten to her presence. What was it 
 to him if her eyes brightened wonderfnlly at his coming, 
 or that once at some particularly tender speech he heard 
 her heart throb quickly; she only became more interest- 
 ing in his sight and something to be studied and learned. 
 She was 3'oung and wouldn't suffer much; all the 
 world knew he had to marry rich and was already engag- 
 ed to a widow years his .senior. Why shouldn't she? 
 But of what the world knew she was ignorant, and so 
 happy that the whole earth wore an added brightness in 
 her eyes. 
 
 At last he was to speak. Hadn't he told her so? 
 That night at eight, his story which was to be heard now, 
 and she was waiting with cheeks flushed and heart beat- 
 ing, as never in all her life she had waited for man's 
 voice before. But this meant new life to her and she was 
 happJ^ 
 
 Then he came and told her how much she was to him; 
 no woman before had he ever confided in, and to no wo- 
 man again. Fate was very hard to him to oblige him to 
 leave all he loved and marry a woman he cared nothing 
 for, but one must love and he had ambition but no 
 money, so he had to come to her to explain it all and say 
 good-bye. She heard him out and except for her set, 
 white face uttered no reproach but when he would have 
 unfolded her in his arms, she waved him aside and with 
 a pride he admired even though it angered him, bade 
 him good-bye forever without even trembling of the lips. 
 He was gone and her faith too. What a little thing, and 
 yet henceforth she vvould trust no man, go through life 
 alone rather than be cheated again, and so she wore a 
 
 »3 
 
mask. No one knew her story though several guesses 
 were made and the world little knew the real woman in 
 her whom they called the ice queen, for through all her 
 brilliant social success she unbent to no one, and if her 
 heart were broken it was her secret alone. ' ' 
 
 There was a slight pause when Marjorie had fin- 
 ished, when she said, — "Now Helen, you are the last, 
 now please take the floor at once. ' ' 
 
 "Mine will not take up much time, it is only a sketch 
 and I will cut it very short, for after those two heart- 
 breaking stories, mine will not stand the test at all. It 
 is just no story at all, really girls! My heroine was such 
 a queer girl I fear I will fail to interest you in her at all. 
 
 "Her life was a very happy one; she had scores of 
 friends and admirers; was of a happy disposition, which 
 drew people to her and caused many hearts to be laid at 
 her feet. She was talented and ambitious, but above all 
 else she desired to love and be loved, and resolved that 
 neither lack of position or money would influence her. So 
 she began her social life and success greeted her every- 
 where. But in all the love offered her there was some 
 flaw in each and her heart responded to none, and in all 
 the years to come though she longed most passionately 
 even though disappointment followed, her head always 
 ruled and her heart was never touched by love. It seem- 
 ed a strange case. It was not haughtiness or pride for 
 she told me once in defense she would give her life if she 
 could only love once, even should it prove unworthy. 
 "My heart fairly ached to feel as other girls do," she said, 
 and though she tried with all her will to return the affect- 
 
 84 
 
ion offered her the trial was unsuccessful and all her 
 life she never found her heart. " 
 
 The stories were told, and with one accord the wo- 
 men arose. Marjorie and Florence suddenly held out 
 their arms to Helen and while they tenderly kissed 
 her good night, said in one breath, — "Dear Helen, your 
 story is the saddest and hardest of all. You have won 
 the test. God pity the women who goes through life 
 without knowing love." And when they had left her 
 Helen gazed sadly into the dying fire and murmured sob- 
 bingly, — * * Amen. God pity her! ' ' 
 
 U 
 
FOR FAITH, 
 
 OR THE HOME COHING. 
 
 After fifteen j^ears' absence George vStanton was 
 coming home! Coming home, ah! how often in the past 
 few weeks has he written those magic words over 
 and over to himself dwelling upon them delightedly, and 
 adding softly, joyfully, two other words which seemed 
 a part of the preceding ones, — To Faith, to Faith, com- 
 ing home to Faith! There was something pathetic in 
 the sight of that tall, stalwart man leaning over the bul- 
 wark of that home-bound vessel with his eyes fixed far 
 seaward; apparently far, far away from the present, so 
 the fair passengers of the "New York" thought who so 
 ardently, at least some of them, desired his acquaintance. 
 They had tried in vain to attract his attention, this man 
 who was ever)^ inch a gentleman and if report be true, 
 fabulously wealthy, besides; but he was so happily engag- 
 ed thinking his own thoughts and dreaming his own bliss- 
 ful dreams of the future that he heeded not their efforts, 
 and indeed seemed in ignorance of them, and so remained 
 a solitary figure to the end of the voyage. They were 
 Hearing New York harbor now, and eagerly he watched 
 the familiar coast while his thoughts were still fixed on 
 the happy past, and an even happier future to which he 
 looked forward v.ith longing eyes. Kyes, which, as the 
 dear native shores became more defined, grew so moist 
 
 86 
 
that they saw but dimly as through a mist, and he dash- 
 ed his handkerchief impatiently across them, that he 
 might not lose the first glimpse of the land, which to him 
 is so dear: — First, because it is home and he is a part of 
 it, and all these years since he has been on foreign shores 
 he has never lost the dull ache of homesickness, and the 
 longing to once more tread his native soil, and retie the 
 old threads of Life which were so rudely snapped at his 
 departure, when the longing came to seek his fortune, try 
 his luck in other lands, and even the pleading, pitiful cry 
 of love did not alter his decision. 
 
 But the second made it even dearer. It was the home 
 of Faith, — had sheltered her all these years — Dear Faith, 
 who had clung so broken-heartedly to him and begged 
 with all her heart that he would stay, and that they might 
 face poverty together rather than loneliness and heartache 
 apart, and with the ocean between them. 
 
 "Oh George," she sobbed, "You know I cannot 
 leave mother sick and alone to accompany you and you 
 would not respect me if I did. But why need you go? 
 To get rich for my sake, you say. Why, I do not want 
 money, I only want you, dear, only you. I know the 
 place is small, too cramped for a man of j'our aims and 
 ambition. Perhaps I am wrong to urge you to give up 
 all your hopes just for me. Dear, I did not mean that. 
 You know I want all for your gccd,^o I'll not say an other 
 word against your going; but oh, will you remember the 
 little girl who is waiting and praying for you so many 
 hundred miles away? I know^ dear, how hard poverty 
 has been for you and how weary these past five years' wait- 
 ing has been. Just think! we have been engaged five 
 
 87 
 
years, but oh, George, they were very happy years to me. 
 But a man is different, dear, I know, and there seemed 
 no better prospect before us, and I know how this indefi- 
 nite engagement galled and fretted you. I see you are 
 right; there will be no advancement for you here. No, 
 I won't cry any more, I'll just think how soon my wait- 
 ing will be over and dream of the welcome I will give my 
 brave boy when he comes home again." 
 
 Dear little haith? and that was fifteen years ago. 
 One thing after another kept him there, success was so 
 hard and eluded his grasp so many, many times, and he 
 had faced failure in so many different forms until at last, 
 when weary, disheartened, he decided to return to Faith, 
 ask her forgiveness for ever leaving her, and tiy and be- 
 gin from the beginning in the little humdrum town, 
 which now looked most alluring to the homesick man 
 hundreds and hundreds of miles away. But just as he 
 had thus decided, luck came his way and Fortune smiled 
 on him at last. This last venture was more fortunate than he 
 ever dreamed possible, and after that, all things changed. 
 Everything he touched turned out well until he was rich- 
 er than his wildest hopes, and now he had it all for 
 Faith and was hastening home to her. No wonder his 
 thoughts were happy ones. Dear little girl ! how verj^ 
 very lonely she must have been; her faithful little letters 
 told him so, and since her invalid mother died a time 
 ago who had been her constant care for years, she had 
 been alone with an old servant, but still constant, and 
 ever watching and waiting for him. He had only receiv- 
 ed her letter telling of her loss a day before the steamer 
 sailed, and that made him more impatient than ever to 
 
 88 
 
hasten to her side. A picture of her as she looked when 
 she bade him good bye rose before him. Just the dear- 
 est, sweetest little face and form ever a man carried in his 
 heart for fifteen years. A daint}', slender figure below 
 the medium height; and her face! well, he couldn't de- 
 scribe its loveliness even to himself. He could jur.t feel 
 it and think it was like some tropical wild rose he had 
 seen in his wandering, all pink and white, one of which 
 so recalled Faith to his mind that he had plucked the rose 
 and set it in a cup on the table in his cabin and enjoyed 
 its loveliness aud fragrance until it faded, and then its 
 resemblance to Faith vanished, and he was about to throw 
 it from the window but something whispered that just be- 
 cause once it had reminded him of Faith it was sacred, so 
 instead he slipped it carefully within the leaves of an old 
 note-book and there it was safe still, and now he was go- 
 ing to take it to Faith and tell her its story. 
 
 And now the boat had landed, and all the people were 
 rushing eagerly toward the gangway, and eyes were search- 
 ing and finding friends, parents and lovers. But to him 
 these greetings only sadden as there were none to meet 
 him; but this mood was quickly replaced by a happier 
 one, and no one was more happy than he to get on shore, 
 for was he not to take the first train to love and Faith? 
 
 While he was making his waj^ through the eager crowd, 
 it was in a little village among the hills in New York 
 State where Faith anxiously waited and counted the hours, 
 yea, the very minutes; Vv' hich would bring her lover back 
 to her. She had been very lonely, only her heart knew. 
 When her mother lived she had so much anxiety on her 
 slender .shoulders, and the invalid required all her care 
 
 89 
 
and attention, that Faith had little time to mourn her 
 lover's absence and only in the night would she let her- 
 self think, and weep hopeless tears of lonliness and ap- 
 prehension. But the last year had been more terrible 
 than all the preceding ones, for now her mother no longer 
 needed her care and love; the empty couch to her aching 
 heart w^as a constant reminder of her loss and the dread- 
 ful void in her life seemed intolerable and when six 
 months of that life of loneliness had elapsed and no letter 
 from her lover, it seemed more than she could bear. 
 
 But now, all was changed. A letter had reached 
 her a week ago and he was coming home to her; indeed, 
 he would be there this very day if the boat was on time, 
 and she, who had borne sorrow so unflinchingl)^, and 
 fought face to face with that grim messenger, Death, was 
 completely overcome when joy touched her heart, and 
 had wept and trembled from head to foot almost since 
 the letter had reached her. 
 
 The change of the past 3'ears was much more notice- 
 able in the w^oman than the man, for where he had simply 
 grown manlier, broader and heavier, she had faded like 
 the wild rose, until there was nothing left of the bloom- 
 ing girl of twenty-five he had parted from fifteen years 
 previous, in the faded woman of forty who was aged be- 
 yond her years and on whom Sorrow had laid a heavy 
 hand; and many were the marks traced in the once bloom- 
 ing face. ' Tis entirely altered except the eyes, and they 
 were unchanged and glistened with their old-time radi- 
 ance and love. But of the terrible alteration grief, anxi- 
 ety and care had wrought, she herself was unconscious 
 for there was little time to make the looking-glass her 
 
 90 
 
friend in the years that had gone, and no heart for it 
 either, for there wavS no one to care if she wore her hair 
 high or low, curled or plain, or a red or a blue ribbon. 
 
 But now it was different, and since the baking was 
 all finished, and the special cakes and pies and other 
 good things George liked best, all ready on the pantry 
 shelves, she had been thinking and thinking what she 
 would wear, and if he would notice the streaks of grey in 
 her hair that she had seen herself for the first time that 
 morning. But a large blue bow would nearly hide them, 
 and she nearly distracted poor, old Mary in the kitchen, 
 rushing back and forth giving the same directions over 
 and over again. He liked coffee and it must have the 
 richest cream, and oh! the muffins must be light and hot 
 for supper, and oh! did Mary think the pink roses would 
 look better on the bush or on the table? As it would be 
 late when he arrived they finally decided to cut the flow- 
 ers and then Mary added, — "And now, Miss dear, you 
 go dress yourself and 1 will see that everything is as nice 
 as you please, for don't I love Mr. George myself and 
 aint I proper glad that he is coming home to take care of 
 dear Miss Faith at last, poor child?" and Mary rubbed a 
 coarse hand across her e3'es at the sight of the vanishing 
 happy figure through the doorwaj'. "Please Heaven, 
 she won't be disappointed, but could any man stand the 
 change those years have brought to her! I wouldn't be- 
 lieve she was the same girl m3^self as when Mr. George 
 went avray. Poor thing! poor thing! God help her!" 
 murmured the sympathetic maid who had been with her 
 since childhood, and she sighed sadly as she resumed her 
 work. Meantime, Faith in her little room upstairs had 
 
 91 
 
turned her entire wardrobe on the bed, and impatiently 
 tossed dress after dress aside as perfectly unsuitable for 
 to-day. She would not wear black and the others were 
 so old and shabby. Oh, it was so hard to find anything 
 nice and fresh enough. At last she remembered a blue 
 muslin bought two years ago that summer in memory of 
 him, hoping he would return before it was worn out. 
 She had worn it only twice, then laid it softly by in a 
 trunk with a few tears and lost hopes in its muslin folds. 
 But now she remembered it and 'tis his favorite color, too, 
 and quickly she brought it out and put it on with a large 
 blue sash, and curled and arranged her hair as she did 
 so long ago. Can it be truly years since they were engaged? 
 But she will not think of that now. At last she is ready, 
 and as this is such a tiny glass in her room, she can only 
 see part of her face at a time in it and it makes her look 
 so dreadfully old. She thinks she will run to a larger one 
 down stairs and there she stands transfixed in amaze- 
 ment and horror at the reflection which meets her terrified 
 gaze. Was that thin, scrawny, white-faced, oldish 
 woman wath whitish hair, dressed like a girl grinning 
 foolishlj' back at her under the bobbing curls and blue 
 ribbons, the Faith George had loved, his little rosebud; as 
 he used to call her? Oh Heaven have mercy! What 
 should she do. All the joys of the morning turned into 
 bitterest woe. In angry scorn and contempt with herself, 
 she tore off the girlish finery, brushed her hair plainly, 
 put aside the blue ribbons over which she had spent such 
 hapi^y moments arranging them as he loved to see them 
 in days gone by. But those days were dead, as dead as 
 her past youth and prettiness. So she reasoned and 
 
 92. 
 
quickly donned a plain grey gxDwn, batlied her face and 
 poor swollen eyes, and slipped down stairs where Mary 
 i-aised her hands in utter surprise, for she knew how lov- 
 ingly Faith had thought and planned her toilet, and would 
 she have gone upstairs four hours before the train was 
 due just to put on her plain, old grey dress? But the look 
 in Faith's poor, pathetic face silenced Mary's question- 
 ing, so she only gathered a pink rose, and Faith offered 
 no objection when Mary fastened it on the bosom of her 
 dress whispering, — **Mr. George loved you to wear them 
 pink roses, Miss Faith." 
 
 So the long afternoon wore itself away as the longest 
 afternoon will after a time, but Faith felt it was the long- 
 est and saddest she ever had known in her life, and her 
 poor face seemed more pinched, and whiter with every 
 liour. At last it was six-thirty and the train was due, 
 even if a little late he would surely be here at seven. So 
 she went out on the little porch, and though she had to 
 hold fast to the railings to steady herself, waited his com- 
 ing there. 
 
 Never had her heart throbbed like this before, and 
 never had she felt that sick, faint sensation in all her life 
 quite in the same dreadful way. At last, after a period 
 of suspense, when she thinks she can count her heart- 
 throbs, she sees a tall figure walking briskly towards her, 
 and even from that distance she knows it is her George's 
 and feasts her eyes upon him as though she would never 
 tire looking; and all her trembling returns tenfold, for 
 how can she greet the handsome, stalwart man and tell 
 him she, poor, little faded she; is the blooming sweetheart 
 he left fifteen years ago! But he has reached the steps 
 
 93 
 
and the moment which she has counted on and looked for- 
 ward to so eagerly all these 3'ears, and the anticipation of 
 which has kept her poor spent heart from fainting man}' 
 a time has arrived, and is in her grasp at last. She al- 
 most holds out her arms to him, but drops them suddenly 
 trembling to her side, as the man with simply a casual 
 glance in her direction hurries up the steps of the porch, 
 passes her, then pauses at the door with only a backward 
 look, lifts his hat hastily and asks courteously, — 
 "Madam, could you tell me please if Miss Faith Holme- 
 stead lives here still?" 
 
 A sound, is it a .sob? startles him; and turning, he 
 encounters such heart-breaking woe that l)c\vildered, he 
 goes forward a step or two and meets a reproachful glance 
 from the selfsame luminous grey eyes he liad kissed again 
 and again, that summer night fifteen years ago. 
 
 No words can express the tempest that raged in him 
 as he realized the truth and saw the change, the terrible 
 change, which rendered his sweetheart almost unrecogniz- 
 able. Such a revulsion of feeling no one l)Ut he can ever 
 tell. Plow can he clasp that woman to his heart, almost 
 a caricature of the girl of his dreams, this faded woman 
 who was gazing into his eyes with such woeful pleading 
 and longing that he had never seen in all his life! It was 
 but a moment, but one of tlie moments that a man lives 
 a lifetime. What should he do? Fliglit suggested itself, 
 then he paused; one of his fingers touched something hard 
 in his pocket. 'Tvvas his note-book with the faded rose. 
 Quickly unbidden tears rushed to his eyes, old memories 
 rose before him of lonely evenings in that cabin wdien 
 that faded rose was his only companion and whispered 
 
 9\ 
 
lovingly to him of honor, love and faith, and how even 
 when it faded how much dearer it became to him. A 
 moment longer, hesitation and Faith would have decided 
 their fate for him and vanished out of his life forever- 
 But the rose touched the right cord and broke down all 
 barriers and opened the flood gates of a strong man's 
 heart. A whispered "For Faith! For Faith!" and with a 
 great sob which sometimes comes from the innermost 
 depths of a man's soul he strode towards her, and open- 
 ing wide his arms cried brokenly, — "Faith, Faith; my 
 darling, is this my little Faith at last? My poor broken 
 winged birdie, but now all her troubles are over and no 
 rough winds shall ever blow on her again if I can help 
 it!" Then on his breast sobbing out all the past years' 
 cares and sorrows, and the past day's grief and distrust, 
 Faith found her haven of rest at last and rested peace- 
 fully in the arms which so tightly enfolded her as though 
 to def}^ grief or harm to touch her now. They had stepp- 
 ed in the little parlor after the first recognition and old 
 memories so arose and confronted him that the past fif- 
 teen years seemed to fade away in the distance, until he 
 looked at the faded woman at his side clinging to him so 
 pathetically and then he realized the time,wdiichhadelaps- 
 ed from then and now% and that they never could go back 
 again. But he would make up to her he resolved to 
 himself, his poor little rose for all she had suffered, and 
 now henceforward it would be his life's work to make her 
 happy, and to keep from her the knowledge that the lost 
 Faith of his love was to him what the present Faith, his 
 wife, could never be. And she was happier than she 
 ever dreamed she would be and her husband was some- 
 
 95 
 
thing different from any other woman's husband in her 
 estimation. There was something touching in the way 
 she idolized that strong man whose only object in life 
 was to make life's pathway all roses and sunshine for 
 that frail, little woman. And people wondered at his de- 
 votion, but no one knew the truth and Faith least of all. 
 Many and many times he would steal away to his lonel)-' 
 study and take from its faded coverings a photograph of 
 a beautiful grey-eyed girl of twenty and on the back was 
 written these words, — '*My Faith." — and the date^ 
 twenty years ago. Many kisses he rained upon that 
 pictured face, then would place it carefully in its hiding 
 place and return to his wife more loving and devoted 
 than ever. And day after day, she would say how much 
 happier she was than on the preceding one, and tell 
 Mary tremulously how George would whisper nearly 
 every night in his dreams, — "My Faith, my Faith ! " 
 
 06 
 
TWO PATHS —A Fable. 
 
 They were not ordinary girls; and they were both 
 beautiful but in an entirely different style from each 
 other, being both fashioned in an extremely exquisite 
 pattern of her own. 
 
 Their school days ending brought to them an ever 
 increasing thirst for that knowledge which was not to be 
 found within the covers of their old worn school books. 
 
 This intense craving for a broader, wider field for 
 action than the narrow, little country village in which 
 they lived afforded, united the girls in a close bond of 
 sympathetic comradeship, and their complete comprehen- 
 sion and unity with each other's ideas decided them to 
 leave home and seek this wonderful knowledge which 
 they craved together. 
 
 They first sought the mountains where they were 
 told the wise man lived who gave free advise to every 
 seeker after experience and wisdom, and after a weary 
 day's journey found him in his hut. 
 
 The girl with the wonderful eyes went first to lay 
 her case before the wise old man; eyes so deep and dark 
 and unfathomable that one felt out of one's depth at the 
 first glance and then only pity at the unutterable, unsat- 
 isfied longing those eyes expiessed. 
 
 She was quick, precocious and haughty, and trem- 
 bling eager to begin her life's search; her very tones 
 shook with excitement as she began her recital. 
 
 * 'All my life I have been cramped for ways and 
 
 97 
 
means," she began. "I knew I was beautiful and 
 accomplished and fit to command, but everything was 
 denied me and I have rebelled in vain. ' ' 
 
 "Now I have vStarted life for myself, and come to 
 you to point me out the path I must take to attain wealth, 
 ease and power or sovereignty by which I shall find my 
 happiness. I can bear any hardship if only I may attain 
 my desire in the end." 
 
 The old man listened, and looking at the beautiful 
 eager girl pondered on the paths before him. One was 
 narrow, rocky, steep and bramble-grown with many pit- 
 falls. The other was wide, plainly marked and though 
 not so plain in some places, most of the obstacles could 
 be overthrown. Indeed the way was plainly seen com- 
 pared to the other paths. His glance rested on the last 
 one, and he said kindly, — "There is your road, follow 
 thou it; you will have many drawbacks, and some falls, 
 but persevere, and you will reach the goal of your ambi- 
 tion. Farewell and good luck," and he turned his head 
 away with a kindly smile to the other girl who had bid- 
 den adieu to her friend and now stood waiting her turn, 
 and said, — "My child, what ean I do for you? She was 
 more pleasing and just as beautiful as the other with a 
 face so full of love, and hope and truth, that one felt 
 better just to look on it; and her eyes were so full of 
 the holy light of love and peace one must feel less at war 
 with mankind and themselves just after a glance in their 
 depths. 
 
 Her eyes grew luminous when she tried to answer 
 the old man and something in their expression touched 
 him (who had not allowed himself to feel for centuries) 
 
 98 
 
and showed him how much she had counted on his coun- 
 sel and what his decision meant to her. Her voice was 
 very low when she murmured: 
 
 '*I have dreamed all my life of love and lived on 
 that dream, and until the awakening came never realized 
 half Life's bitterness. It has been so intense, so over- 
 whelming, that the ideal of my youth has been to find 
 out the truth, to learn if love is a reality and if it will 
 come, come to me in a dream from which there will be no 
 awakening. Perhaps I am tempting fate, but I must 
 know the truth at all hazards, and could I know one such 
 blissful dream which would at least prove reality I would 
 be willing to pay all costs, no matter what suffering it 
 would mean to me. Let me, oh let me know love, it 
 would be my life and without it I shall perish. Oh 
 quickly, kind father help me hasten on my way, and 
 show me the right path!" 
 
 "Dear child!" and there was truly a tremor in the 
 old man's voice. "I would warn you, but I know it will 
 not prevent j^ou going, I would tell 3^ou of the terrible 
 dangers, hardships and trials you will encounter, but yes, 
 I see you are deaf to them all. So go with my blessing." 
 
 "Yes, that is your way," and he pointed to the nar- 
 row, rocky path, thorns and stones at every step^ and no 
 way to avoid them, but she smiled happily, in no way 
 daunted, thanked him, and set out on the thorny path. 
 
 He watched her out of sight and sighed muttering 
 something about, — "Youth, youth, and experience, and 
 the pity of it," and so murmuring let himself in his little 
 mountain hut and closed the door. 
 
 ****** 
 L.ofC. 
 
 99 
 
Years passed, and often other people with other 
 needs sought and found in the wise man just what they 
 most required. But through all the quiet years, he still 
 remembered the two handsome girls who sought his ad- 
 vise so long ago and looked for their return, for return 
 he knew they would, and they did. 
 
 One beautiful October morning when ever3^thing was 
 bright and cheery and Nature herself had donned her 
 most brilliant array. When it would seem ludicrous in 
 tlie extreme, to think of biting frost when all these beau- 
 tiful crimsons and golden color will be changed to the 
 dullest brown. — but November is a month away and 
 forgotten. Just now all is warmth, and radiant with that 
 hazy splendors of an October afternoon, and so still one 
 can hear the brown nuts dropping from the chestnut treef*. 
 —-'twas then they came. Changed, ah yes, but to be 
 known at the first glance, so the wise man thought. 
 
 The first, — tall, haughty and prouder than when 
 she met him. Her wonderful eyes as unsatisfied as of 
 old, and her magnificent hair now a snowy white; her 
 bearing more queenly than before, and her voice richer 
 and fuller in cadence, her tone broke melodiously the 
 silence. "I've returned as unsatisfied as ever, unhappy 
 and with as many unquenchable longings as before. 
 I've had wealth, ease and power and had many at my 
 feet, conquering all. I've been called the greatest lady 
 in the land and I've reached the height with few strug- 
 gles and fewer hardships, have made men the stepping 
 stone and found my way easy. But I've known no hap- 
 piness since I left you; tasted no true joy or peace; have 
 had no time for the luxury of a tear. The first time I 
 
 lOO 
 
felt such an emotion was when a little child pointed me 
 out to another whispering, — "See she's a beautiful lady 
 but she never had a heart." Then I indeed felt the hot 
 tears gather, but forced them back, for you see I had no 
 time to let them fall, for the world is a hard master, and 
 I am his humble subject. But at the words of that little 
 girl I felt for the first time the terrible, bitter unsatisfact* 
 ion of it all and that I would give up all my wonderful 
 ])ossessions if I could only find my heart, for I knew the 
 child was right. But I do not complain. You helped 
 me attain my ambition and it is only in wild moments I 
 allow myself to think. I don't usally have time. But 
 the world calls. Don't keep me, I must go. 
 
 *'Poor child," the wise man looked pityingly at the 
 beautiful, restless face, detained her gently and bade her 
 listen to her sister's story, then turned to the one who 
 had interested him most. 
 
 He found the change even greater in her: years of 
 pain and care had left their mark and she seemed sadly 
 aged bej^ond her years. Her figure, formerly so erect 
 and tall, worry and grief had laid their hands upon it 
 until it tottered and bent under the load. But the beau- 
 tiful face was as fair and lovely as ever, and the eyes 
 fairly dazzled one with their wonderful light and radaince, 
 and there was no unsatisfied longing in their depths. 
 All was rest and peace; and could it be? yes, it was 
 happiness! Her voice was low, but sweet and clear, as 
 she began her recital. 
 
 "When I started on my journey on the path you 
 designated," she began, "the obstacles were so much 
 more dreadful than I dreamed, I felt I must return, but 
 
 lOI 
 
something urged me (>n and I seemed to see away before 
 me the beautiful vision for which I sought, that encour- 
 aged, I still pushed on. But every warning you uttered 
 came true, every thorn pierced my flesh. I was bruised 
 by every stone, slipped and fell at nearly every turn and 
 finally became so heartsick and weary and footsore that 
 I felt I must faint by the roadway, for all faith and 
 courage had forsaken me, when suddenly I saw a vision, 
 the most beautiful I ever beheld; like my dream, but 
 better, purer and lovlier and I knew^ I beheld love at last. 
 It was so near I could almost touch it, just as I had 
 despaired, but I was too weak and spent to move and 
 could only hold out my empty hungry arms when it 
 floated close and at last surrounded me with its beauty, 
 enveloped me in its embrace. Where was fatigue and 
 pain just now, and bruises and wounds from the cruel 
 rocks and thorns? I forgot them all remembering 
 naught but the present joy and that I had discovered my 
 ideal; found my dreams reality and reached the goal of 
 my ambition! Such bliss was worth all the pain I bore 
 through all my years of waiting. It seemed only yester- 
 day, though 'tisyearsago. We lived a life of happiness. 
 I can't count by years. 
 
 Then fate in the shape of death tore us asunder 
 and I suffered again alone, and yet not alone for Mem- 
 ory and Faith have been my companions and I know my 
 dream was true and there is real happiness in the world. 
 
 '*! thank you for showing me the thorny path for 
 though I received many wounds and bear the scars still 
 and am old and feeble beyond my years, I have seen a 
 glimpse of heaven," — and her eyes shown with an al- 
 
 102 
 
most unearthly glow of happiness — *'for oh, I have 
 known what it would be well worth dying for. I have 
 known love." 
 
 And the wise man and the proud, ambitious woman 
 looked at her now pale face aglow with that happiness 
 which was unknown to them and 'twas with a sort of 
 pathetic envy they murmured; — *' ' Twas worth it all for 
 she has known love. * ' 
 
 103 
 
OCT 21 
 
 190 
 
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