^^ * fl « o " ,^^ ^ . * e w 6 O, C''^^^%"- //^i^^^"^- ^''/^k^- ./ ^o I • • ^^0^ » • • * 1 ;^V ^ 'J(^ o POETICAL WORKS OF ORINGE SMITH CRARY AND GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY ILLUSTRATED COLLECTED AND PUBLISHED BY GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY CANTON, N. Y. 1914 Copyright 1903, by GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY SEP -8 1914 Commercial Advertiser Presses Carlton, N. Y. 1914. ©CI.A:3S0837 PREFACE In presenting this little book of poems to the public, I do so to meet a popular demand for it that originated among those who knew the poet during his life time, and admired his natural gift, for true poets are born poets ; they cannot be manufactured in institutions of learning, though education serves to polish the genuine diamond, making it brighter. Oringe Smith Crary was born in Vermont March 13th, 1803 and died March 24th 1889, being eighty-six years af age at the time of his death. His father, Nathan Crary, was of Scotch descent and a soldier in the Revolution and a Methodist minister. The poet was a first class scholar and taught school for many years ; was school commissioner for several years ; could spell any word in the English language and give its de- finition without a moment's hesitation. He had a poetical gift as rare and original as the diamonds in his native hills. He would grasp words and put them into even metred lines to ex- press any sentiment he might wish. It seemed to cost him no effort for he would reel it off as fast as he could talk. His memory was something very wonderful. It was like a graphaphone. Repeat to him the first line of any poem he ever composed and he would repeat the rest verbatim as he com- posed it years before. He was known as the off-hand Pierre- pont Poet over a wide section of country and associated with Governor Wright, Preston King and Roscius W. Juduson who spoke of his poetry in the highest terms of praise. He was a life long Republican and his songs were sung at each campaign and always brought the crowd down with cheers. Realizing self praise don't go a great way, I\ly own work I will leave alone, For on looking back I find 'tis a fact, That no man gets praise till he's gone. So I leave these few lines and wild jangling rhymes To be harshly or be kindly judged. So I'll patiently wait since I can't know my fate. And my happiness none should begrudge. George Lucian Crary, The Adirondack Poet. GENEALOGY OF GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY Peter Crary died in Groton, Conn., in 1708. His son Rob- ert's son was Christopher Crary; Christopher's son was Ezra, and Ezra's son was Nathan Crary, and Nathan's son was Oringe Smith Crary, the poet and father of George Lucian Crary, also poet and pubhsher of this book. Nathan Crary, grandfather of George Lucian Crary, was born in Clarendon, Vt., 1762, died 1852. He married Lydia Arnold. He enlisted at the age of fifteen as a drummer boy in the Revolution. Ezra Crary, their son, born 1784, died 1844; married Sobrina Hopkins. Their children were John, Armenas, Nathaniel, Osgood, Hannah, Malinda. Dolly Crary, born 1787, died 1819, married Aaron Howard and their children were, Oliver, Nathan, Appleton, Orin, Merrill. Appleton Crary married Roby Hopkins, and their children were, Truman, Ezra, A\'illiam, Nathan, Royal, Orin, Merrill, Polly, Dolly, Lydia, and Praxey. Nathan Clark enlisted in the IMexican war and was in six- Averell ; one son. Case Crary. Lydia Crarv, born 1793, died 1855, married Warren Clark; their children were, William, Edward and Nathan. Nathan Crary enlisted in the Mexican war and was in six' teen battles. Orin Crary, born 1796, married Laura Clark. Had three 6ons, Edward, Henian and Harry. Edward Crary, born 1801, died 1853. Married Rubia Clark. Their children, Edwin, Laura Ann and Caroline. Oringe Smith Crary, the poet, born in Vermont March 13, 1803, died March 24, 1889. Married Minerva Sanford, who was born 1803, died Jany 8, 1895. Their children, Eliza Jane, Marcia, Rufus Richard. George Lucian, John Leslie, Caroline, Minerva, Emerett, Emogene Alaria. George Lucian Crary, the poet, married Julia Lavilla Clark. Their children were Cora, Carrie, Minerva, Hancy ]\Iarion, George Clark, Julia Carmelita, Winnie, Eugenia, Berdia Augusta. George Clark Crary married twice, first Grace Fifield, who left him one daughter Ethel ; and his second marriage was to Lenora Brown, who gave him a daughter, Edith Mauldin. Stephen Arnold Douglas was second cousin of Oringe Smith Crary on his mother's side, his mother being Lydia Arnold. Stephen Arnold Douglas was the famous Democrat who ran against Lincoln for president. Sobrina Crary, born 1806, died 1869, married Elijah Smead. No children. John Wesley Crary, born 1808, died 1902 ; married Per- melia Holmes. Their children were Charles, George, William, Hattie. Stephen Arnold Crary married Juliette Reynolds. Their children were, Betsy, Ellen, Judson, Alson, William, Alahlon. He married a second time, Mary Montgomery. Their children were Ryland and Case. Julia Crary, born 1814, died 1890. Married Asa Good- nough. Their children were Thircleve, x\ndrew% Julia and Orin. The other line of Crarys is John, brother of Peter Crary, who did at Groton, Conn., in 1708 and the descent was Roger, Joseph, Leonard Proctor Crary, George, and Dr. George Waldo Crary, now living at 771 Madison Ave., New York City. HIS MOTHER'S ANCESTORS Traced back to William Partch, whose children w^ere Wil- liam Partch and Molly Partch. Molly Partch married a Lock- wood; their daughter was Lydia Lockwood who married Zachariah Sanford. Their children were Clark, who was a sol- dier in the war of 1812 ; Polly, Hepsabah, Isarel, a soldier in the war of 1812; Sally, Orilly, Samantha, Lydia, Eliza, Clarinda, Minerva, Nelson and Stanlev. Minerva Sanford married Oringe Smith Crary, father of George Lucian Crary, as appears in line traced in the first part of this genealogy. POEMS BY ORINGE SMITH CRARY THE BIRD OF PARADISE In the days of yore when first the pair Were placed in Eden's bhssful bowers- Adam the young and EA^e the fair — To eat the fruit and pick the flowers, 'Tis said a bird of Golden hue, In fields of light that had her birth, Waved her bright wing and gently flew To visit this our Mother Earth. She came to Eden's blissful bowers, And visited the happy pair. She had the will and had the power. To free from grief and pain and care. Where e'er she waved her magic wing. All nature smil'd as she pass'd by — The startling doe and timerous fawn, Stood unconcern'd nor strove to fly; The lamb and lion on the lawn, The happy hours beguil'd; The birds and beasts and even man, Himself, seem'd tame and mild. The eagle and the turtle dove Were seen together on one bough, And all creation seem'd to love. Although they hate each other now. But envy and ambition hurl'd From seats above gave hatred birth — No sooner had he reach'd our world Than peace forever fled from earth. THE YOUTHFUL VOLUNTEER Composed and sung when the first company left Potsdam 1861. I saw a scene at Sumter Fort, I shan't forget for years ; Towards the Fort their steps they bend, Like fiends from the infernal den ; And fire upon our starving men — Who fight like volunteers. I dream'd I saw a numerous throng. And all devoid of fear. And marching on with all their might. For they were going South to fight. To guard the Red, the Blue and White — The youthful volunteers. And I beheld amid the throng A few of riper years. That rather go and fight the knaves Then how down to them Hke their slaves, And they were marching with the braves — The youthful volunteers. God and my country is the cry That evr'y where I hear; The aged sire smiles on his son. Who buckhng on his sword and gun Resolving not to be outdone — The youthful volunteer. Upon the sanguine field of fight The din of war I hear ; The rebels now begin to quake And to their heels I see them take — Palmetto men and rattle snakes — Can't stand our volunteers. . The shout goes up "Our country's safe," Dismiss your idle fears. The sympathizers with the South Now hide their heads and shut their mouths ; Of treason there's a general drouth — Caus'd by our volunteers. Let every freeman join the song, And shout from shore to shore; Let freedom clap her joyful wings ; Let old and young the anthems sing And make the fields and forests ring That treason is no more. And while we bid the boys adieu, And drop the parting tear, Their country's weal may they hold fast, Until the storm of life is past. May they all meet in heaven at last — The youthful volunteers. -1^ ^ T* RHODE ISLAND, THE HOME OF MY FOREFATHERS There's a beautiful land that lies far in the East, By those who have been there I'm told, Where women are dress'd like ladies at least, For their husbands have plenty of gold. Where girls are as fair and as sweet as the rose, That blooms by the brook in the vale. And men are good looking as you may suppose, And neither drink whiskey nor ale. 'Tis the land of my fathers — the home of their birth. And I cherish its memory still. And trust that I shall while I live on this earth. Though the poet now lives on the hill But there is a land far more dear to my heart; A land far of¥ in the skies. Where none ever sigh and friends never part. And none ever sicken and die. 8 1 trust in my heart that we all shall meet there, When time to us here is no more — The glories and beauties of heaven to share, And bow at his feet and adore. THE DEATH OF SH.AS WRIGHT How sad and thrilling was the sound. How many hearts with anguish bled, When echo in the every sound Proclaimed that Silas Wright was dead. More startling than an awful burst Of thunder on a cloudless sky — For then the heart has learned the worst. And knows the danger has pass'd by. But here the worst is yet to learn — A chasm made as dark as night — Where shall we look or whither turn To find another Silas Wright ? In private life ; in public state, So plain, so frank so pure, so tried; *^o calm, so firm, so good, so great ; So fit to be a nation's guide. And can a nation e're forget. The noble deeds of freedom's sons ? — They'er fresh in all our memories yet, As fresh as when they first were done. And while the stars of freedom light This land, the home of liberty — The memory of our Silas Wright, Embalm'd in all our hearts shall be. He never from his duty swerved. But labored on from day to day — He won the name he well deserved, The Cato of America. * * * DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE DEVIL AND THE SOUTHERN MINISTER At night while millions were asleep, Near Hell I took my station ; And from that dungeon dark and deep O'er heard this conversation. Ghost — Hail Prince of darkness, ever hail; Adored by each infernal, I've come among your gang to wail, And taste of death eternal; To weep and wail in endless pain. Among your frightful legions, To gnaw my tongue and clank my chains, In these infernal regions. Demon — Where are you from ; What makes you look so frantic; Are you from Carolina's strand. Just west of the Atlantic ? Are you that man of blood and birth. Devoid of himian feeling. The man I saw when last on earth, In human cattle dealing, Who tore the infant from the breast; That you might sell its mother. Whose craving mind could never rest, 'Till you had sold a brother; Who gave the sacrament to those Whose chains and handcuffs rattl'd. Whose backs soon after felt thy blows ]\Iore heavy, than thy cattle ? 10 Ghost — I'm from the South, And I was there a teacher; Saw men in chains ; with laughing eyes, I was the slaveman's preacher. In tassl'd pulpits gay and fine, I strove to please the tryants — To prove that slavery was divine. And what the Scriptures warrant. And when I saw the horrid sight Of slaves by torture dying, And told their masters all was right, I knew that I was lying. I knew the time would soon roll 'round When hell would be their portion — When they in turn in fetters bound Would plow the fiery ocean. I knew all this, and who can doubt, I felt a sad misgiving; But still you know if I spoke out That I should lose my living. They made me fat ; they paid me well. To cry down abolition ; I slept, I died, I woke in Hell — How alter'd my condition. I now am in a sea of fire. Where fury ever rages. I am a slave and can't get free. And must be so for age. Yes when the sun and moon shall fade. And fire the rocks, dissever, I must sink down beneath the shade And feel God's wrath for ever The fiend heard this, and with a yell. That made his chains to rattle, Resounding through the vaults of Hell Like to the raging battle "Rejoice my friends in chains," he cries, "A moment leave your wailing. And toss vour fettered arms on high. 11 Our Kingdom is prevailing." Peal joined to peal and yell to yell, Throughout those frightful regions, In notes that none can raise or swell, But the infernal legions. Wave broke on wave with horrid glare Along the fiery ocean. And ghosts and demons mingled there, In tumult and commotion. ''How long," they cry, "how long shall we From hope of pardon serv'd. Sink down and plow the fiery sea?" The answer was ''forever" The Ghost stood trembling all the while, He saw the scene transpiring, With soul agast and visage wild. All hope was now retiring. The demon cries on vengeances bent, "I say in haste retire And you shall have a nigger sent To tend and punch the fire." ^ ^ ^ THE FAMOUS BUCK OF CRANBERRY LAKE A famous bucy which long had roam'd And made the lakes and ponds his home. Upon the lilly pads he fed. And browsed when other plants were dead. With his sharp horns he did not fail To reign the king of hill and dale. Woe to the buck, an awful woe. Who dare the signs of fight to show; For if they mingled in the strife, They wore the wounds and scars for life. The hounds that chased him through the vale Have ne'er returned to tell the tale ; The prowling wolf that struck his track, 12 And followed on has not come back; The bloody panther and his mate, F'rom him have met no better fate. In vain their arts the hunters tried; Too keen of scent, too eagle eyed, The wary creature never slept. And if on him the hunter crept He seemed to vanish in the air. For when they called he was not there. By chance a dewclaw he did lack, And every hunter knew his track. For twenty years none had the luck To even wound this famous buck. At last a hunter struck his track. And on a spruce knot hung his pack, Resolved at once his luck to try. Says he, ''old buck, its you and I, You think, perhaps, your life is charmed. Well never mind 'tis just as well My trusty rifle breaks the spell." He follow'd to his chosen ground, Then left the track and swung around. And now along with cat-like step Up the steep cliff the hunter crept. And peering o'er far down below. He saw him lying in the snow. 'Twas there he lay and looking back. As if to watch and guard his track. He raised his rifle like a dart, And aimed it at a vital part. The whizzing bullet first to warn. Crashed through his body, struck his horn- He gave at once a fearful bound, But left one antler on the ground. The hunter saw with practiced eye. The bleeding stump as he passed by. At forty rods another ball IS Gives Golden still a louder call ; And when he found it was all day, He turned around and stood at bay. He placed a ball beneath his eye, Then thought his hatchet he would try. And now he struck blow after blow. Till his last horn lay on the snow. And now at length a luckier blow, Laid Golden quivering on the snow. Quick through his throat he thrust his knife, And ended his eventful life. No more around the ponds he 11 feed Or pluck the grass or tender weed. His flesh is now the food of man. His old tough hide for mittens tanned. To thus get shot was his bad luck — 'Twas George L. Crary killed this buck. 'I* ^ ^ A SOLDIER'S FAREWELL (Tune, Old Oaken Bucket.) Farewell to my home and the place of my childhood ; My country has called me and I must obey. Adieu ye green meadows, ye field, and ye wildwoods, I go to a land that is far, far away. Adieu my dear mother who rocked your Darius And sang to your darling the beautiful lay. Though of social converse the fates may deny us, ril write to you oft when Fm far, far away. Farewell my dear father, I never would grieve you ; Your kindness to me T can never repay. My duty has called, and Fm forced now to leave you But oh don't forget me when Fm far away. Adieu my dear sisters, I see your tears flowing, Suppress all your sorrow and strive to be gay, 14 To fight for our flag and my country, I'm going ; I must go to the front and I cannot delay. We'll make all our enemies show the white feather, And all of their warships we'll soon drive away, And then I'll come home and we'll all meet together ; Then hail to the hero you'll hear the bands play. CHASED BY THE WOLVES My father sent me for the cows, When I was very young — O'er hill and vale I often strayed, My feet with nettles stung. I did not fear the bears by day, Nor heed the wolves by night, I sung and whistled on the way And thought it all was right. Old Phil, she wore a splendid bell. As any one around; The tinkle, tinkle I could tell. From any one in town. One day I started rather late ; The bell seemed far away; I pressed on prompted by my fate. And dared not to delay. The night set in, 'twas very dark. And I should lost my way. But for the tinkle of the bell, I soon had gone astry. And now the horrid wolves, I heard, My friends I'll give good bail The cows came rushing by in fright. The wolves were on their trail. 15 And so I climbed into a tree, For to avoid my fate, But by my story you will see. That I was rather late. And now the wolves came howHng 'round And looked so mad at me. They gnashed their teeth, tore up the ground. And gnawed my little tree. The little tree was rather small. And if they gnawed that way, I knew that it must shortly fall, And I must fall their prey. The little tree gnawed nearly down. Stood trembling in the breeze. Ten minutes more and you would found. No lines composed like these. I thought of home and of my friends, A tear was in my eye. All hope was fled, I said my prayers. And gave it up to die. But hark ! a shot rings on the air. And every wolf is still, And the leader of the band lay there A proof of brother's skill. The ball had pierced the leader's brain, And hit another too. His dog appeared now on the scene, And seized his wounded foe. And there they struggled on the ground. The rest were glad to go, ''Ez" brought his heavy hatchet down And kill'd him with a blow. And now he shouted loud and long^ 16 Oringe Smith Crary As down the tree I slid, And I joined in; who says 'twas wrong To see the creatures dead. I have a cane, saved from the tree, Which I preserve with care. The tree is rotten now you see, The stump's not even there. But still fond memory hngers 'round, That ever sacred spot Where that birch tree was found That changed the poet's lot. A DESCRIPTION OF A HORSE RACE The Healy horse, I write about. That soundly licked the pony out, Which was admired by aU 'twere there, When Warner drove him at the fair. Tich perched on his precarious seat, The o'ft repeated word repeats, ''Go on ! go on !" he loudly cries. His very best young Black Hawk tries. And now along the smoking plain, With head erect and tightened reins, He dashes on at railroad speed, And in fine style the pony leads. He seemed to dart, or rather fly. And all seem'd pleas'd as well as I. The men set up one general cry, • The women waved their kerchiefs high. From hill to vale the echo sped, ^^ "The Healy horse, ahead, ahead." The pony now broke up his trot. And ran and cantered and what not. The driver shrieked and drew the rein, 17 To force him to a trot again. But do you ask, 'Svas pony slow?" To you I quickly answer *'no". Although the course he oft had tried, The fact it cannot be denied, His match, he never came across, Until he met the Healy horse. A DOG'S SAD EXPERIENCE These lines were put in the clog's mouth by the boys and the dog set up against his Master's door so he would fall in when the door was opened, and addressed to his Master. Dear Master, I have come at last, To tell the sorrows I have past, It was upon the Pierrepont hills. About two miles from Crary Mills, I thought it would be quite as cheap To catch and kill my neighbor's sheep, They took me up and had me tried And here I stand without my hide. ^ * ♦ "THE BLACK FOX" Take off on a peddler who paid nineteen dollars for a black cat skin supposing it w^as a black fox. Poor Esau has a crooked back, But still that is no sin. In Colton he got on a track. And caught a black cat skin. He bought and stuff'd him in his box Although he had no tail. And he who thought he had a fox Had cat skins now for sale. 18- This poor old cat lived in the woods, Till he was old and grey. Till he had seen full many a cat, 'Twas quite as smart as he. Till caught and skinn'd and tail'd and sold. And stuffed in Esau's box. Whoever trades with him again To cheat him sure Vv^ill fail, For he will never buy a skin, Unless it has a tail. THE BATTLE OF BORODINO The sun scarce rose on Bordoino's plain, When proud Napoleon grasping on the rein. Sprang to the back of his fierce neighing steed. As if the fates destruction had decreed. He drew his sword, its hilt with diamonds shine. And rode in front of the fast forming lines. And if a column for a moment stands, "On, on," Napoleon gave the dread command. Horses and horsemen -ready for the fight, Ranged in fine order, stood upon the right. And now they hear the warlike bugle sound. Seized with impatience foam and paw the ground. "Fire, fire," he cried, which ran along the line. And ere the word had gone its destined round Two thousand cannons thundered back the sound ; Whose horrid contents in their swift advance, Now poured destruction on the foes of France, An equal number from the Russian side Spread desolation far and wide. "Forward, brave boys," the Emp'ror now cries, *'Who turns his back this day on Russia dies." The Russian hussar grasping on his lance. In solid columns meet the pride of France, Sword clash'd with sword and steel with ringing, steel ; 19 Death reigned triumphant o'er that maddening field. The smoke shut out the sun, the source of day, And naught but flashes Ht the warriors way, O'er heaps of slain the ruthless w^arhorse trod. And many a noble warrior press'd the sod. Proud Russia fought and still refused to yield, Till eighty thousand warriors strewed the field. Those eighty thousand, but twelve hours before Beheld the sun, shall see that sim no more. Oh mornful thought that fills my soul with pain. Men fight and murder that a worm may reign. THE SHADOW OF A SHADE A gentleman the other day. Called at our office by the way. While on his arm all blushing hung A daughter beautiful and young. "I've brought," said he, "my little maid. To get the shadow of a shade. He viewed our pictures, call'd them nice. But when he had inquired the price, 'T won't give that," we heard him say. As from our door he turned away. In a few hours he came again And brought his daughter's last remains. We saw the heaving of his breast. As he to us these words address'd, ''A hundred dollars I will give, But make it look as when she liv'd. "Alas, my friend," we quickly cried, "We should have took it e'er she died. For if a thousand you should give. It would not look as when she lived." Now you who would not be betrayed, Secure the shadow of a shade, Before in death they close their eyes And cruel death our art defies. * * * POTSDAM AND WATERTOWN RAILROAD Potsdam, Old Canton and Dekalb, And Gouverneur are striving, And all the way to Watertown, But there is no conniving. We only wish to have a road. We'll have one in the sequel, To have each portion bear its load, And thus divide it equal. Let Racketville stick up her quills, Columbia turn out Tory, There's Ogdensburg and Dr. S. We'll leave them in their glory. Let Boston boast she's on the coast, Nearby the briny ocean. It will be seen we have the means And that we've quite a notion To let them know we have the dough, To put the cars in motion. Though far away from Boston Bay Or any other ocean. The iron horse upon his course, Will pass each village snorting. While just in rear the car you'll hear. Like distant thunders sporting. From vale to hill the whistle shrill. Will frighten sheep and cattle. While up and down with jarring 'round 21 The trains will onward rattle. Early and late borne down with weight, Bntter and cheese and lumber; With passengers and other freight, Too numerous to number. Then hail, all hail, our railroad band Let echoing sound prolong Their fame throughout our favor'd land And join the general song. * * * AN ACROSTIC ON QUEEN VICTORIA Queen Victoria, what a station. Under God, she holds her crown, Evr'y land and evr'y nation, Evr'y tribe her greatness own. Never since the first creation, Virtuous queen reigned o'er such realm. In the great ship British Nation, Calmly managing the helm. The dominions of Victoria O'er vast seas and lands extend. Rising, setting in his glory. In the west as Sol descends. Ask he'll answer here they blend. ^ ^ ^ THE DRUNKARD'S HOME Oh, don't you remember our once happy home. The orchard that stood on the hill, Where hour after hour in our childhood we roam'd. And picked up the fruit at our will, That farm is not ours and that orchard is sold, 22 We are driven from our once happy home. Poor mother now shivers with hunger and cold And 'tis all because father loved rum. Oh, don't you remember our sweet little Jane, Who met you so oft at the door. Who sang those nice sonnets, those sweet stirring strains, As she danced on the new sanded floor ? She caught a sad cold when we left our dear home, Her lungs, with a cough were oppressed. Consumption set in and she sank to the tomb, For the grave could alone give her rest. Oh, don't you remember our once smiling boy, The hope of the hill and the plain. The pet of his father, his mother's chief joy; Who warned him but warned him in vain; But led by his father he seized on the bowl. And mingled mid quarrel and strife, Till ruined alike both in body and soul He now is a maniac for life. Poor mother now weeps both by night and by day. And sighs to be laid in the tomb. My husband belongs to the Sons by the way. So I hope to escape such a doom. ^ ^ ^ DECORATION SONG Come friends and listen to this song, A story it will tell — Of our brave boys who went away In southern climes to dwell. How oft they thought of home and friends, Their children and their wives, They meant then* country to defend Though it should cost their lives 23 Chorus — They went to fight for home and friends, And mingle in the strife, Our glorious banner to defend. And save the nations life. How many a noble wife said "go," Then sat her down to weep, Her little children ask for pa. And cry themselves to sleep. Her husband wounded by the foe, Is dragged to dungeons dark, His fate, his comrades do not know, Crushed out was hopes last spark. Chorus — How many never did return, Or see their loved ones more — How many found a soldiers grave Upon that distant shore. And that is why we've come today To decorate this shrine And 'round the graves of those we love These wreaths of flowers to twine. Chorus : — And though but a few years have past Their ranks are growing thin. And only just a few are left Of the thousands mustered in. And when a few more years roll 'round They'll drop along the route And hear the sound of muffled drum That musters the last one out Chorus : — Then let us give these noble boys 24 The honors they have won. And let them hear a nation say — "Brave boys, well done, well done." And let the sons of Veterans feel A noble, honest pride That 'twas for liberty and right Their fathers fought and died. DEATH THE CRUEL MONSTER Yes, heaven's decree'd that man should die — Should close his eyes on all below, And in the tomb forgotten lie, While mountains rise and rivers flow; Since from this doom no man is free We must submit to heaven's decree. The old, the young, the great, the small. The rich, the poor, the king, the. slave, Must all obey death's chilling call. And sink alike into the grave — No mortal can retain his breath. Or bribe the cruel monster death. Sad are the lines which I have penned. And still they're facts that's strictly true. For all must come there in the end. And that includes both me and you. We'll need a Christ, our friend to be. He'll guide us through Eternity. ^t >fi "^ THE DEATH OF AN ONLY SON Yes thou art gone; the tale is told; A father's hope, a mother's joy. And still in fancy I behold Them bending o'er their dying boy. 25 Still hoping that he might be saved, To smooth their passage to the grave. So fade our brightest hopes away, Our fairest prospects disappear, When in the grave our friends we lay. And o'er their loss we drop a tear, Bestow a tribute on their worth, And weep for those we loved on earth. But faith comes in to cheer our sight. And wipe our falling tears away, Immortal hope dispels the night, And we behold a brighter day; A cloudless sky, a deathless shore. Where friends will meet and part no more. Sleep on, my friend, sleep on, in peace. Till Gabriels trump shall bid you rise. And your last sleep at length shall cease, And thou awake in Paradise, Where love thy highest notes shall swell. Till we meet there, farewell, farewell ! * * * WHITFIELD'S VISIT TO ENGLAND I went to revisit the home of my birth; The place where so oft we had gather'd. To sit a few hours by my own native hearth And to visit the grave of my father. So I crossed the Atlantic, that wide spreading sea. That washes my own native shore. While thoughts of my childhood, came rushing by me, Which memory had laid up in store. And now I'm approaching my own native land, And shall soon reach my father's own door. But father is safe on the evergreen strand And he'll welcome his William no more ; 26 In the little chvirch yard now he silently lies, Nor knows that 1 stand by him weeping, And not till his Savior appears in the skies, Will he ever awake from his sleeping. And now I must leave my own native land. It fills my whole soul with emotion, For while I am here my own little band Await me far over the ocean. My land of adoption, my own happy home, The place of all places the dearest, Then why should I harbor a wish for to roam From the friends to my heart that are nearest. * * * BURNING OF THE SLAVE As I stroll'd through the south, beguiling the hours. By viewing her fruits and her beautiful flowers, With her beautiful pines so tall and so green And her lovely magnolias that add to the scene. But my eyes and my mind were soon turned from this scene, By the cries of a wretch that I saw on the green, Stretched out at full length and I saw he was bound, By stakes, that were forked, drove fast in the ground. And his master was there by my guide, I was told. And a Devil incarnate he was to behold. "Place the fire," he commands, 'at his hands and his feet Who dared for to steal from his master to eat. His servants obeyed him with caution and care, And the smoke of his torment soon darkened the air. It may be a lesson to those who survive." ''Blow, blow up the fire, we'll burn him alive," They moved up the fire towards the seat of his soul. Till his hands and his feet were all burn'd to a coal. His prayers and his shrieks, his groans and his tears, They still haunt my vision and ring in my ears. And the preacher was there, he'd been call'd on to pray, 27 For the victim whose Hfe they were taking away, He drew down his face near as long as my arm, And having drank brandy, he prayed to a charm, ''We thank thee, oh Father of mercies," he cried, That thy son for this poor old black nigger hath died, And though we must burn him, because he hath stole I pray thee have mercy upon his black soul. Though he said not these words he thought so in heart. For being a prophet I read him in part. I saw the intention for which he had come, 'Twas to get a good dinner and drink down the rum. 5|S * * FRIENDSHIP Friendship, what a golden treasure, Flowers that never will decay. Hours of bliss and days of pleasure Oh how soon they've flown away. Do not ask me why I sorrow. Why my throbbing bosom swells ; Well I know you leave tomorrow. But I cannot say farewell. Shall each hope so fondly cherished. Must each pleasure end in pain. Are such friendships doomed to perish, Tell me we shall meet again. ^ 5J< >iC Ofif-hand sign written for the first firm who took advantage of the bankruptcy act — Barnes Brothers, Canton, N. Y. Here trade two men whose heads are soft, They look like barnes with board all of?. They drive their debtors to the bone And still refuse to pay their own. 28 THE GOLDEN WEDDING Read at the golden wedding of Joseph Arnold of Ohio. Dear cousin, I received your card, And was so glad you know; To find I had your kind regards, It caused the tears to flow. I was still gladder when I found, By looking at the heading That fifty years had rolled around And brought your Golden Wedding. I fain would come and bring my gold Upon your wedding day, But it's too far, and I'm too old, I therefore have to stay. Long life to you, and to your bride, Though she's grown old, you know, But she was lovely and bright eyed, Just fifty years ago. And I can say the same of you. For in your native place. Of all the young men that I knew, None wore a fairer face. I knew your parents and the boys. And loved them all, you know. And many a visit I've enjoyed, Say fifty years ago. Their hair, that now is turning gray. Will soon be white as snow — The brown hair'd boy with which I play'd Some fifty years ago. But 'ere another fifty pass Into time's boundless sea. We shall have withered like the grass, So frail we mortals be. But there's a home above the stars, 29 Where we shall meet again, Where free from pain and grief and care We ever shall remain. Farewell, dear cousin, to your wife I bid a kind adieu. May both inherit endless Ufe And dwell where Angels do. ^ ^ ^ DEATH OF ARABELLA BARTLETT Is she gone in one short hour, From her blooming youthful band ? Has she faded Hke a flower. By the touch of death's cold hand ? Yes in death Arabella sleeping Lies before us in her shroud; Hearts are aching; eyes are weeping; Grief pervades the mingled crowd. She who dress'd herself so neatly; Wore a smile upon her brow. She who sang on earth so sweetly. Sings in Heaven with angels now. Sadly from her home she started And a tear was in her eye. Said dear ma before they parted, Let me kiss you a goodbye. Wave'd adieu to her and others, Knowing that she could not stay; Cast a look upon her brothers. And was quickly on her way. She who thought of her so often. Yearned as only mothers yearn. Little thought that in the cofhn Arabella would return. Leaning on her coffin sadly, Tortured by a grief so keen. 80 We would gladly, yes most gladly Draw a veil upon the scene. Though dear parents she has left you, Landed on the other shore, Cruel death has now bereft you And her face you'll see no more. But we have one hope to cheer us, Though entombed her body lies. Though she's gone, she still is near us, We shall meet her in the skies. Since to please and never grieve you, She exerted all her powers, Call'd by death so young to leave you. Strew her coffin over with flowers. * * * The district Attorney Thomas V. Russell banteringly said, hfe too, was a poet. I'll tell you how much of a poet you are said the poet. As I rode proud Pegasus from hill top to plain And urged him first to and then from, He grew suddenly sick ; he gave a small strain And vomited up little Tom. sk * * Meeting his friend Jackson in the road one day with a splendid horse he said. With his arch neck and eagle eye He darts along the plain. And passing other horses by He shakes his flowing mane. If beauty, speed and strength you prize, You'll not be at a loss For all these qualities you'll find - In Jackson's splendid horse. - He was introduced to two ladies sitting on a plank on the green as the Pierrepont poet ; they ask him to make a verse for them, he said: Here sit two ladies on one plank, One sleeps with the man that owns the bank, He stands at his counter and deals out his bills While his beautiful wife with joy his life fills ; And they tell me the other one sleeps with the man Who is agent for Pierrepont and sells us our land, 'Tis said that a ^Partridge can never be tamed But Foster has done it and who is to blame? "^Her maiden name was Partridge. Here lies old Babbitt as snug as a rabbit, Who let the old poet his job Now the Devil's come and took him. In hell he will cook him Because the old poet he rob'd. * * ^ THE OLD SCHOOL HOUSB: IN POTSDAM Our school house made of basswood logs That first were split in two, And then our fathers worked like dogs To notch and lay them true. And then they put the chinkings in. To stop the wind away. And where a little crack was left They filled it up with clay. The panes of glass, just seven by nine, Give us a little light, The answers to our sums to find, And learn to read and write. 32 Famous Buck of Cranberry Lake — Poem on page 12 Around the shanty hung our rags, Upon a row of pegs ; Our seats were made of basswood slabs^ Stood pretty high on legs. Our schoolma'am with a queenly air, And ruler in her hand, Put out the words all plain and fair That we might understand. I loved her with a boyish love. She was so good and kind; . She was as gentle as a dove. But still she made us mind. But now long years have passed away, •In yonder grave she lies. And he w^ho taugh us many a day Like her has closed his eyes. Fond memory lingers 'round the past ; Now gone, forever gone; When once I played upon the grass With Oney, Frank and John. But Oney now lies in his grave, And John lies by his side, While Frank, the noble and the brave, Sleeps close by where he died. And cousin Sally, small and slim, Lies sleeping with the dead, And Ephriam Brush, killed by a limb That struck him on the head. The Daytons, with their starlwart arms. Soon laid the forests low. And soon cleared up their splendid farms. Which they did plant and sow. And there was Uncle Ike and Abe, And there was uncle Ben, And uncle Henry, Lige and Jabe All middle aged men. And there was Rube and Chrit and Bill, And Than and Ansel too, And all of them worked with a will And had enough to do. 'Twas then we used the old hog plow. And Call would lay the shears ; But we have steel and iron now, And have had them for years. We used the scythe and sickle too, To get our grain and hay, Now reapers, mowers, horse rakes do Ten times as much each day. There was John Delance and old JohnFobes, And Pierres too his son, Now all wear shrouds instead of robes — Their races all are run. And there was French and Ai Powers, And Sackett, Harris, Deweys too. And there was Warren Clark who towers, Above all in the row. Not one of all this row is left. To tell the mournful tale. Of all they had on earth bereft They sleep deep in the vale. And there was cousin Solomon, To work he bared his arm ; I loved him well, he's dead and gone, And Thomas owns the farm. And now alone of all this band. That to the training went, 34 I'm left upon this earthly strand — My steps are slow, my form is bent. And when a few more suns shall rise And sink down in the west, My soul will soar up to the skies — My body in the grave shall rest. WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF MALINDA HOSLEY I am wasting- away, I am wasting away; How short is my life, how transient my stay; I am hasting away from this beautiful earth. From the home of my friends and the land of my birth. Adieu, ye fine forests that wave in the blast, Ye orchards w^hose fruits were so sweet to my taste. Adieu ye green meadows so smiling and gay. From your beautiful scenes I am passing away. Adieu my dear father and mother likewise ; My Savior now calls me, come home to the skies ; Weep not for Malinda she'll soon be at rest In the mansions above in the home of the blest. Adieu my Alvinzi, a final adieu, It grieves me so soon to be parted from you. The cords of affection my kindred entwine, But my heart while it beats my Alvinzi is thine. I have left you my ring as a token of love ; And my Bible that points to the regions above — Then weep not Alvinzi or dare to complain. In those regions of bliss I shall meet you again. Thy mother, Alvinzi, has stood by my bed. Bathed my burning temples and raised up my head, I know that you love her ; I cannot mistake. But love her I pray thee still more for my sake. Adieu my dear brothers, 'tis mournfully true, I am wasting away and must bid you adieu. Adieu, my dear sisters, I haste from this shore, Be kind to your mother when I am no more. Adieu young- companions, weep not for my doom, Though my mortal remains be consigned to the tomb, My spirit will soar to the mansions above To gaze on my Savior and sing of His lov(.. Adieu, friends and neighbors and all I have known, Oh do not forget me when once I am gone. But while with the dust my mortality blends. May my memory remain in the hearts of my friends. CLARKSON'S FARM To those who information lack We once for all would say, That Racket dam flowed gently back. Thus forming Clarkson's Bay. And now this very curious man. Of new improvements fond. Drew stone and muck and marl and sand. And thus cut off the pond. Where flags and alders only grew. And sand and bogs were seen. Tame grasses now spring up to view. And clover fresh and green. Thus the great master of his art. But waved his magic wand, The land and water quickly part. And formed this fairy land. Where old pine trees and hemlock tops Lay scattered all around, 36 Now herds of cattle gently feed, And wheat and corn abound. And where the land for want of strength White beans would hardly grow, Now carrots full three feet in length, We any day can show. If at his stables you will call, You any day can see, Great oxen standing in the stall, As fat as they can be. Great bins of wheat and cribs of corn. And nice machines withal, To thrash the grain and grind the meal, To feed them in the stall. And here upon a rising hill, His splendid mansion stands And all contrived with taste and skill By this same curious man. While just in rear his garden lies, Beds, fruits and flowers so gay; That they would dazzle poets eyes. If they were turned that way. While just in front a row of firs. Clothed in the liveliest green. And then a splendid row of elms, Give beauty to the scene. And then a pretty grove of beech. Mixed up with other kinds, Pruned higher than a man can reach And show a taste refined. A little farther on is seen, A village and its spires. While Racket River flows between. 87 Which every one admires. While fields and orchards here and there, In all directions lie, And barns and houses evr'y where, Meet the beholders eye. While in the distance mountain peaks, And vales that lie between, Where nature play'd her wildest freaks. Are all distinctly seen. Great forests mixed with evergreen. That Byron's eye would charm.. Add beauty, and may all be seen, From Clarkson's splendid farm. The worst of lands he has reclaimed. And taken ofif the curse. And you and I could do the same If we but had his purse. ♦ * >k FAREWELL TO BROTHER MASON Well beloved, dearest brother. Of our social band, Call'd by death like evrV other, To that spirit land. Thou didst join and never leave us. Mortal of the dust; And thou never did deceive us, Failthful to thy trust. Oft we've met in sweet communion. And we priz'd thee high ; Joined to us in closest union. By the mystic tie. 38 Thou hast left us all in sorrow; Soaring like the dove ; But there comes a glorious morrow, In that lodge above. By the level, square and plumet. Thou wert fashioned here ; Fitted for the glorious temple, In that brighter sphere. May we follow thy example. Honest, virtuous, true. May we live as good Free Masons, And be honor'd too. Farewell then, farewell forever, To thy memory blest, And we will forget thee never. Rest our brother, rest. * ♦ ^ ODE TO THE DAISY Like Burns, alas, poor little flower, I've met thee in an evil hour; When thou wert in full bloom. The rough plow share has o'er thee pass'd^ And turned thee like the common grass, I can but mourn thy doom. x\nd since I'm forced to hold the plough, And turn thee under anyhow, And live by sweat and toil. Why should I mourn the Daisy's fate ? Death's plough will turn me soon or late. And mix me with the soil. There till long ages roll away. Like common dust my form will lay, Unconscious of the past, 39 Till he who spoke the world from naught. My imortality that bought, Calls me to life at last. And I assume an angel's form, This rigid heart again be warm, On pinions I shall soar To that blest world of life and Hght Where I shall praise Him day and night. And man shall die no more. ^ ^ ^ THE BREECHES GIRL A young lady in Ogdensburg wrote a fine piece of poetry on drinking wine. O. S. Crary answered it with one on tight lacmg and closed with the following verse. Shun tight lacing when it will preserve your life, For when I come of age my girl I want you for a wife. And signed it "Farmer's Boy." Her lover took offence and unknown to the lady had the following published. To the father of the farmer's boy : Farmer, whip that boy nor heed his whine. Nor longer let him toy the idiot of the nine Teach him to lay the rail, teach him to guide the plow. Teach him, to fling the busy flail or milk the peaceful cow, Send him to school for he is ignorant, very, And after Cobb and Walker perhaps that he may marry. Signed A Lady. Supposing it was the lady he sent the following: Dear lady, how cruel you were. To send such a message to dad. Had you heard him rip, sputter and tear, I vow you'd have own'd 'twas too bad. Did you know this young lady had seen A young officer dress'd in his pride 40 In paraphernalia so keen, That she long'd to appear as his bride. If ever again you're so rude As to meddle in such an affair — On officer's rights to intrude, I'll pull out every lock of your hair. Come urchin, with me to the barn, I'll learn you to cut such a dash. And now my dear girl I'll be darn'd If my back didn't smoke with the lash. And mother she sputtered and storm'd. And said that my dad had done right. Little dog you deserved to be warm'd Till you learn to behave more polite. Now I felt in this hour of distress That I'd lost all the friends that I had And all this has come you may guess Because that you told it to dad. I would tell you with pleasure and pride Of the many good things that I had Safely laid up in store for my bride. But I fear you would tell it to dad. Now if this should get to his ear, I should stand in great dread of his ire, And my heart it would tremble with fear For a burnt child, you know, dreads the fire. And now I will bid you good by. Though my heart it is lonely and sad. For of love I'm afraid I shall die But for Jove's sake don't tell it to dad. The editor did not publish the above but wrote Mr. Crary that the girl objected to its being published as she had not writ- tien the piece signed ''Lady," but that it was a man of straw who talk'd Locofocoism, who wrote it. Then Mr. Crary sent back these lines which were published. 41 TO THE BREECHES MAID Now when a lady's clothes you wear, And think your swarthy skin is fair, Don't let the vScripture be forgot. The leopard cannot change his spots. And when you twit of laying rails, Of guiding plows and flinging flails. Remember this you Breeches Maid, We farmers don't deny the trade. And when you talk of tending schools, Of spelling books and readers too, I'll let you know you silly fool, I've seen such books as well as you. When you again a hunting go. To chase the buck or bounding roe. Be careful sir, how, where, and when, You beard a panther in his den. And when you march with sword and shield To meet young David in the field. Then don't despise his sling and stones For these perchance may break your bones, I've known of weapons full as dull, That broke a fool Goliath's skull. And gave his carcass to the fowls. To gloat the bitterns and the owls. If I were you I wouldn't stay, I'd cut my throat or run away. Or hang myself in some old barn, Upon a rotten skein of yarn. Or else I'd cut that other prank, And like the swine rush down the bank — And choke that Devil in the sea, Which had so long bedevil'd me. 42 WHAT IS THE OLD MAN THINKING AS HE LEANS ON HIS OLD OAKEN STAFF ? He is thinking of the days of his choldhood; When he danced in the height of his glee, Or play'd 'neath the oak in the wildwood ; Or sat on a fond mother's knee ; Of the girl that he loved in his boyhood, Whose feet were as light as the roe ; As she tripped by his side through the meadow, And he thought her an angel you know : Of the day when she first as a mother, On him did his first born bestow^ When he thought she excell'd evr'y other : Transcending all women below; Of the day when his children were scatter'd From him like the leaves of a tree. And his once stalwart frame became shatter'd — Till he needed the staff that you see. And last best of all he is thinking, When life's dreary drama shall close : When sinking and sinking, He'll sink to his final repose. PIERREPONT AS IT WAS AND IS I knew when not a tree was cut Upon the Pierrepont hills ; When not a sheep or a cow was seen . By all her rippling rills : When bears and wolves and panthers prowled Through all her shady glens ; And I could hear their distant howls, And chased them to their dens. 43 When Indians, in their light canoes, Came ghding up our streams To hunt the deer or chase the moose, But yesterday it seems. But I have seen her forests fall; The Redman pass away. And flocks and herds feed by them all, While mansions line the way. Now^ splendid orchards grace our farms, And gardens fill'd with flowers ; And waving fields of grain add charms To this fine town of ours. Houses of learning where the youth Improve the golden hours, And trained to virtue and to truth. Grow up like native flowers. Here temperance too unrival'd reigns ; No brawls disturb our streets ; Here men of God His word proclaim, And hundreds fill the seats. I've seen a house of worship rise With spires that point to heaven, W^here prayer and praise ascend the skies For all His mercies given. BETHELEHEM OF JUDEA (Tune Lilly Dale.) 'Twas a calm, still night and the stars shone bright O'er the shepherds of Judea's plain; When the bright angel band from the spirit land Struck up the joyful strain. Chorus : — Oh glory to Jesus hosannas sing, 44 That with infinite cost, The whole world that was lost, Are restored to their Eden again. Thus the angels sung as in mid-air they hung. O'er the shepherds of Judea's plain, Till earth caught the sound, that the lost were found, And restored to their Eden asrain. •-fc)' Chorus : — Now, where mortal is known, the glad tidings have flown. Like sweet music that floats on the breeze, O'er fertile lands and barren sands, And the islands that sleep in the seas. Chorus : — Let old and young with heart and tongue. Join the chorus that angels repeat, Ev'ry being of earth that has heard of His birth, With hasannas bow down at His feet. Chorus : — CHRIST, THE SON OF GOD WHO DIED THAT WE MIGHT LIVE Ye know His grace, who poor became. Who laid his richest honors by. That we might heavenly riches gain : That we might live who must have died. Yes, He was rich ; all heaven was His, And angels flew at His commiand; But yet He left that world of bHss, To come and die for guilty man. While birds had nests,, and foxes holes; 45 And kings reclined on downy beds, He suffered hung-er, thirst and cold, And had not where to lay His head. And while a suffering life He led. He still went on the world to save; He ate the scanty bit of bread — 'Twas all that thankless mortals gave. Nor on the cross did He repine, But parched with thirst for drink he call'd, They gave Him vinegar for wine, And mingled it with bitter gall. 'Twas thus He died that we might live ; 'Twas thus He bled that we might reign ; And dying prayed "Father forgive," Nor was that dying pra3^er in vain. Oh praise the Lord in loftier strains; Where is there love compared to this, Who died that wretched man might gain A whole Eternity of bliss. * ♦ WHAT I BELIEVE In answer to a letter from one Peleg Richmond, making sport of the Bible in jangle rhyme. First, I believe that all who live Must sleep beneath the grassy sod; Their flesh to stern decay will give : There's nothing infinite but God. By God I mean that great first cause. From which all other causes spring: Systems and worlds and natures laws. And ev'ry living, breathing thing. 46 And I believe the sun He made, The moon and stars, those fields of light; Angels and men of ev'ry grade. And made them all exactly right. It was that God made you and I, My friend, be very sure of that. Can fate create the smallest fly, Or chance produce a single gnat ? No, no, my friend, how can blind chance Create a world or make a man ? Or make the sun through space advance. To light our world and warm the land ? And I believe that He inspired The men who wrote the Sacred Page, Who have so justly been admired By pious men of every age ; And that those scriptures teach us plain That all who read may understand. Except a man be born again He cannot see that happy land. And I believe the stars we see Will yet be from their orbits hurled; That heaven and earth alike will flee, When God shall come to judge the world; That sentient beings should prepare For that great day when time shall end ; That you and I shall both be there, And need a Christ to be our friend; That those who finally rebel, Down to their darkness will be driven, To sufifer all the pains of hell, And never be by God forgiven. You asked me friend what I believed, 47 And I have tried to tell you plain, Now when this letter you receive, Please drop an answer back again. BARBARA HECK I saw a ship a sailing ; six sailors were on deck ; Their courage never failing, 'twas steered by Barbara Heck ; Their colors were nailed to the mast, as on they quickly sped; And will be long as time shall last though Barbara Heck is dead. But still her fame will never die till earth will cease to roll ; But spreading wide and raising high will spread from pole to pole. Her preachers flaming heralds are passing through our land, Not fearing man nor devil they boldly take their stand. For Jesus Christ is with them, go when and where they will ; And like the wild tornado they shake the forest still. And satan always trembles where e'er her heralds go, When christian bands assemble, it frightens him you know. Their motto ever moving ; to dally they've no time ; Their doctrine ever proving, in every land and clime. Ye heralds of the gospel, still hasten on your way; Till ev'ry land and nation shall see the joyful day. And o'er the wide creation, her waving banners spread, And millions take their station, though Barbara Heck is dead. And when the judgment day shall come a glorious crown she'll wear, Among the millions in that home, a bright and shining star. Would you be happy here below, and reign above the skies ; Follow the path that she did go, and you will win the prize. Eternal bliss be your reward, when you shall reach that shore, Where all the saints with one accord the mighty God adore. 48 ON THE DEATH OF ELDER BOWLES Come all my friends, both far and near, Who loved the man who sought your souls ; Come drop the sympathizing tear, And weep with me for Father Bowles. For days, and weeks, and months, and years, He plead with sinners to repent; While every prayer was wet with tear; And every sermon as he went. From town to town, from state to state. He still kept up the constant cry, "Repent, repent e'er 'tis to late, Prepare my friends, prepare to die." He preached with power and always plain, That made the cold professors quake : He never preached for filthy gain. But for the dying sinners sake. His sight, alas, at length grew dim; His voice grew husky too and dry. He had a son; he sent for him. To come and see his father die. The aged patriarch called his son, And took his CharUe by the hand; ''Your father's race is almost run, And he is near the spirit land. ' But Charles when father is no more ; When in the grave his ashes lie. Tell others that they may adore; That father wan't afraid to die. "Bright angels are from glory come, And hover 'round my dying bed, To take me to my blessed home,- As; soon, as ever I am dead." ■ ■ . ' 49 Thus died this holy man of God; Thus cahn he sunk into his rest, And though he Hes beneath the clod, No doubt he sings among the blest. A faith like his gold cannot buy. Nor all the wealth beneath the poles ; If in such triumph you would die, Then vou must live like Father Bowles. THE SONS OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS Sons of the Pilgram Fathers who left their native land ; Unfurl'd their snow white banner on Plymouth's rocky strand. Who fled from dire oppression ; a cruel tyrant's frown ; And here they took possession where savage men were found. Who chose to brave the dangers, to cross the briny wave, Among a land of strangers to find an early grave, Than basely crouch to tyrants who sought to chain them down, Or yield to bold aspirants, the panders of a crown. Peace to their sleeping ashes ; in silence they recline, Near where Atlantic dashes her wave of foaming brine. Though by their king unpitied, forsaken and forlorn. Their spirits they transmitted to nations vet unborn, ; And now the same devotion that warmed the Pilgrims breast, Has spread o'er land and ocean, the race of man to bless. And now throughout the nations, the leaven has spread and met On missionary stations the sun no longer sets. DEATH OF LUCY MAY Indulgent reader, hear what I relate. And drop a silent tear o'er Lucy's fate. She's gone to be no more upon this earthly shore, 50 Her Savior to adore in realms of day. But just the year that's passed, her friends beheld This blooming lovely lass, sprightly and well ; Then who can read her doom and not be fill'd with gloam ; Within the silent tomb she now is laid. No more will she behold the things of earth ; Its riches and its gold are of no worth ; A scepter now she bears, a crown of glory wears ; Bright, shining as the stars that will not fade. No more will sickness blast her youthful bloom ; Her mind be overcast with sullen gloom ; But on that blissful shore, where saints their God adore, She'll bloom to fade no more through endless years. Oh, proud and cruel death ; terrific king. Though you have stop'd her breath, where is thy sting ? You've but released a soul that walks in streets of gold. And sings in strains untold through heaven's high dome. Her mother went before, to point the way Up to that blissful shore of brighter day; 'Tis in those heavenly streets her mother there she meets, And sings in anthems sweet to part no more. But let us change the strain, while Lucy sleeps ; 'Tis o'er her cold remains a husband weeps ; He cries, "My Lucy dear," and drops the silent tear, ''No one my heart will cheer since you're no more." But why should I repine, she's now at rest ; No trouble haunts her mind, or moves her breast; 'Tis on that blissful shore, where saints their God adore ; We'll meet to part no more, while ages roll. 51 THE HEAVENLY RAILROAD There is a road froni earth to heaven ; God's railroad, if we so may speak ; To man a revelation given And all may find this road that seek. The engine is the means of grace ; The cars Jehovah's church on earth ; And all who wish can have a place ; The tickets are the second birth ; The Saviour is the Engineer ; He laid the track and paved the way ; Though demons howl, the track is clear, And runs straight through to realms of day. There's not a curve in all the line, Nor one dark tunnel on the road ; God's truth eternal ever shines, To light man to that blest abode. Prayer is the coal and faith the fire ; Devotion blows it to a flame. The moving power is pure desire To glorify the Saviour's name. Then you who come upon this line. Must help propel the heavenly cars. And then in glory you will shine. And gaze upon the Saviour's scars. The gospel is the whistle shrill, And sudden death the ringing bell ; Then come on board with free, good will. And shout in death that all is well. All hail, the mighty Engineer, There is no engineer like this. He heals our woes, and calms our fears, And take us to a world of bhss. 62 ON FROTHINGHAM, THE INFIDEL Let Frothingham froth on and rave, And play the mad man and the fool, And scout the power of Christ to save ; Of infidels a fitting tool. Yes, let them talk of dying gods. Blasphemous wretches, that they are ; At death they'll find the fearful odds, And wail forever in dispair. ilien let Tom Paine, and all his hosts. Of infidels that wise would seem, Deny there is a Holy Ghost, Let them beware how they blaspheme. Let infidels all understand. However strange the truth may seem, If Christ ain't God, as well as man. Their hope of heaven is all a dream — A dream of dreams, a phantom fled; A mere delusion of the brain ; They'll find a world of woe instead. Where death eternal ever reigns. A night of nights, where not one ray Will ever light the dismal gloom ; And endless night without a day. Will be the Christ rejector's doom. Oh sinner, would you shun this fate : Would you escape this dreadful doom ? Seek Him before it is too late. Who like a God rose from the tomb. * * * DEDICATION HYMN Almighty God, whose eye of flame Sees at a glance our inmost souls. 53 Fain would we mag-nify thy name, And spread thy praise from pole to pole, The heaven of heavens cannot contain, The mighty God, the power divine. But have we built this house in vain ; Great God upon thy temple shine, We dedicate this sacred desk, This altar and those seats to thee. Is it too much, Oh God, to ask That thousands may converted be? Oh, bless the choir thou king of kings. And while in hymns they chant thy praise, Inspire their voices while they sing; And fill their hearts with heavenly grace. Oh, may thy sanctifying power. This house with thine own glory fill, Thy grace upon thy people shower, As rain upon the grass distills. When here thy servants spread their hands. And praying toward thy holy hill, Heal all the plague through all our land. And be our God and Saviour still, And when our day of life is past. Oh father, son and holy Dove, Receive us to thy house at last ; A house not made with hands, above. Ht H: =H ADIEU TO THE GROVE (Written for a Southern Lady.) Adieu trembling aspens ; ye poplars adieu. Ye sweet mantling vines ; ye magnolias farewell, 54 Ye oaks and ye elms while I haste from your view, My bosom with warmest emotions must swell. Must swell while I think on your green waying shade, Where in sweet meditation the hours passed away; Where I've sat; where I've sang, where I've knelt, where I've pray'd, And shouted amen while the lark tuned the lay. Sweet converse with Jesus I've held in your bowers, Or sang in sweet raptures the joys of his love, Whose goodness I view in each tree, plant and flower, That grows in the forest and blooms in the grove. Yes, God and the angels have witnessed my cry. For santification a heart all resigned And while I have thus rais'd my thoughts to the sky. Thy foliage seemed tinged with His glory divine. I have seen your tops wave in the cold winter's blast, When your beautiful leaves had been nipped by the frost, I have seen you in bloom when the winter was past, With leaves still more splendid than those you had lost. 'Tis thus that the saints will arise from the tomb. When death's long cold winter shall pass and be o'er, All glorious, immortal in fresh youthful bloom ; To sisfh and to sorrow and sufifer no more. ^fe' But now I must leave you, and hasten away. From friends and connections I also must part. For providence calls me and I must obey; I sigh but no murmur escapes from my heart. Adieu leafy temple; a final adieu; I shall sit, kneel and pray 'neath your covert no more, But while I retire to a place that is new. The God I have worshipped, I still will adore. 55 MY OLD HAT Here's my old hat, and what of that- It once was new and shining, What could entice the cussed lice To eat out all the lining ? ROPE STAIRS TO PRAYERS WhiTe attending school at the old academy in Potsdam he rung the bell one morning during prayer, a rat came down the bell rope, which made the children laugh. The teacher, sup- posing the poet had done something to make them laugh called him up to give an account of what he had been doing and he says, A rat, for want of better stairs, Came down the rope to go to prayers. Hi ^ ^ ORVIL PAGE When God got through creating man, The devil in a horrid rage, Just seized the scrapings in his hand, And worked them into Orvil Page. * * * GREELEY AND GRANT When Greeley ran against Grant for president, the poet was asked which would be elected. He reeled ofif the follow- The Greeley ship sir is no good, For it is made of rotten wood. And it can never stand the blast, 56 For it is only pegged with brass. Grant's ship is of the purest gold From stem to stern, both deck and hold, With ivory masts and sails of silk, And colors pure and white as milk. * * * When Taft ran against Wilson his son penned the follow- ing lines : Grant's ship is now consigned to Taft, And he w411 wreck it fore and aft ; An awful racket he will give her, And with the hulk go up Salt River. POTSDAM AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS NOW My father moved into this town When I was two^, I'm told; Now seventy years have roU'd 'round. And I am growing old ; Two houses then our village graced, And now I scarcely know the place ; Where once these houses stood. Now stores and shops and banks and inns — ' And sidewalks, paved with stone. The old academy so thin, A Normal School has grown. Then uncle Stone our grist would grind. But took near half a day; But now they go it fairly blind And hurry us away. Then Thompson backed the bags of mail From Potsdam to Malone^ Now lightning trains darts o'er the rail. And Thompsons are unknown. Then news from England twelve long weeks 57 To come by ship required, Now news, if we the truth may speak, Comes darting on the wires. 'Twas then we used the old hog plow, And Call would lay the shears, But we use steel and iron now And have done so for years. 'Twas then we used the scythe and rake, To gather in our hay; Now nice machines and patent rakes, Makes haying seem like play. 'Twas then we used the sled and cart, Nice wagons were unknown. But we are growing rather smart, Nice teams and wagons own. 'Twas then we owned a single cow. Perhaps a dozen sheep, But we milk splendid dairies now, Fat hogs and horses keep. 'Twas then we used the old dash churn, A little butter made ; To have our factories we have learned, And drive a thrifty trade. Then weary teams drew heavy loads Through the deep mud and snow. But now long trains dart o'er our roads. While loud the whistles blow. The hre place and the old log house. Have now gone out of date. And splendid mansions, parlor stoves. And coal within the grate. Nice trees and shrubs now fill our yards, And flowers of richest hue, And picket fences stand as guard. That nothing can get through. 'Twas then upon a panel door a day's work was bestow'd. While now George Swan drives business on And sells them by the load. 58 THE AMERICAN EAGLE Written i860. (Air Star Spangled Banner.) Oh hear ye his scream as he flaps his bright wings, And mounts to the sun leaving woodland and ocean, Ah who in creation his equal can bring, So strong in talons, so swift in his motion. Chorus : — Then woe to the vulture, his anger that draws. And w^oe to the bird that shall get in his claws. For our banner shall wave and our Eagle shall soar, O'er the North and the South till our nation's no more, His form may be seen mid the Red, White and Blue, Epluribus unum, you see he is holding ; With hearts ever warm, patriotic and true, We'll shout as we see our banner unfolding. At the foes of our country defiance we'll hurl, Our flag it shall float o'er the land and the ocean. We'll show to the South and show to the world Of that thing call'd secession we've not the last notion, All hail to our country, she long will remain. The sails of all nations shall whiten our waters, From mountain to valley, from hill top to plain. The shout shall go up from her sons and her daughters. Oh God of our fathers, who fought for the right. Who see's at a glance through the whole of creation, Oh be with out men through the perilous fight. Stand by and defend us, give peace to our nation. And thy name we'll adore on the sea and the shore. And tell of thy wonders till time is no more. May our Eagle yet soar and our banner yet wave. While treason and traitors are laid in one grave. 59 THE DAY OF JUDGMENT 'Twas night, 'twas dark and all was still, O'er river, mountain, vale and hill; Save ocean's constant roar. I saw the angel Gabriel stand Upon the sea and on the land — The water and the shore. There was a pause, and all was still ; The sea was silent as the hill That stood upon the shore. From unknown worlds the fiat came, "Blow, Gabriel, blow, and loud proclaim That time shall be no more." He blew the trumpet stern and strong; He blew the trumpet loud and long; How dreadful was the shock ! He blew still louder ; as it passed The forest fell before the blast; It shook the tirmest rock — Dark threatening clouds bespread the sky; The wind roared loud ; the sea ran high ; Which gave confusion birth. I heard the earthquake's horrid sound, That leveled cities with the ground, And shook the trembling earth. The groaning earth burst out in flame, And melted lava made the plain One sea of liquid fire. The mountains melting down like snow Commingled with the plain below. And raised the sea the higher. I saw the dead both small and great; The king, the prince, the potentate, All hastening to the bar ; While groans and shrieks of wild dispair, 60 Burst on my ear and rent the air, And seemed to reach the stars. I saw the wretch who reached and took With impious hand Gods Holy Book, And preached for sake of gain ; I saw the blood start from his eyes, He uttered forth unearthly cries. And gnawed his tongue for pain. He seem'd to dread to join the throng, And wailing slowly passed along, Like some poor wandering star ; But one more blast from Gabriel's horn. Blew him like chaf¥ before the storm, And chased him to the bar. I saw the fiend start from his grave, That starved and beat and sold his slave, All for the sake of gain. The moment he unclosed his eyes, ''Fall on me rocks and hills," he cries; But still he cries in vain. I saw the rocks and mountains fly, He uttered forth a shriller cry. And wrung his bloody hands. His slaves appeared before his eyes, He gave but one more horrid cry. And sunk amone the damned. '& The unbeliever too I saw Who had transgressed God's holy law By crime of every name ; Who thought because, that Christ had died. Although he swore and curst and lied 'Twould all be just the same. "Alas," he cried, "T find too well There is an awful burning hell ; An awful firey sea ; 61 That darkness death and wan dispair Reigns in eternal silence there, To all eternity." I saw the sinner old and gray Who heard God's word from day to day, And knew his duty well ; But still to sin, he set his face. Neglecting every means of grace, As if there was no hell. "Alas," he cried, "I justly am , Condemned to wail among the damned, And spend long years of pain Without one hope my soul to cheer — Shall pass along through endless years. And clanking my burning chains." The doubting atheist too was there, A while he gazed as if dispair Had fixed his glaring eye ; "Oh, had I lived," at length he cried, "For him who groaned and bled and died, I now had reigned on high ; "But I denied there was a God, Although I felt his chastening rod. And trembled with afright ; But now alas it is too late. Eternal death is now my fate. And one unending night." "Depart, depart," the God man cries, "Depart, depart," rang through the skies ; The pause was short between. Down, down I saw the wretches slide. And plunge beneath the burning tide — Thus closed the final scene. 62 PART II. POETICAL WORKS OF GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY George Lucian Crary POETICAL WORKS OF GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY DESCRIPTION OF THE CRARY FAMILY Our forefathers from Scotland come, To the new world to make a home ; In sixteen hundred they came here, In search of liberty so dear : From William Wallace line descended, And with him Scotland they defended. But when he fell they had to flee. And seek a home over the sea. 'Twas then 'tis said they dropped the "Mc," For fear of being carried back, For fighting in his noble clan, For freedom and their native land. And when the bugle sounded shrill, For volunteers the ranks to fill My grandfather though but fifteen Among the soldier boys was seen. And stayed until the war was through, And helped to gain our freedom too. In eighteen twelve. Redcoats once more Came flocking to the Yankee shore : Four uncles then with knapsacks on March'd to the front with sword and gun, And helped to make the Redcoats flee, From Plattsburgh back to Canada. For they imagined that they see A Yank behind each stump and tree ; And heard them shouting ev'ry one, ''You've got too far from Canada ; run boys run." And since that time they've been too shrewd 65 On Yankee freedom to intrude. Our eagle sits on freedom's bough, The Hon keeps his own den now. When war broke out w4th Mexico, Then cousin Nate was bound to go, And though his wish his folks resisted. He ran away and just enhsted. Though he was but sixteen years old, He stood six feet and two I'm told. Though sixteen battles he went through, Without a wound he came back too. And when the cruel war broke out, Between the South and North, And our dear Union was in doubt, 'Twas then the Crary boys stepped forth, And put the bluecoats on all right, And went down south the Rebs to fight ; They fought on many a bloody field, And forced the Rebs at last to yield. Now it mpy seem a curious fact. Yet every Crary boy came back, Yes, they came home with colors flying, From fields oft strew'd with dead and dying, And though I do not wish to boast, In all the. wars with all the hosts, The records prove a certain fact, Not one was w^ounded in the back. LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY The following poem was composed and read by George L. Crary at the Lincoln Dav exercises of Hartwell T. Martyn Post, G. A. R. and the W. R. C And now proud Pegasus please give me a ride — - With the best of the poets take me along side, 66 While I hear the glad strain of the Heavenly lyre My poor feeble pen with wisdom inspire, Whiie I write of the deeds of our brave, noble dead. Who their precious hearts blood for their country have shed. And our dear martyred President's great proclamation Which ended vile slavery by emancipation. And the praise of the world he justly deserv'd. When he said the union must and shall be preserv'd vShould be written in gold and lead in the rock Where it can't be erased while time runs a clock. 'Twas then that his wedges and maul came in play For he pounded vile treason with them every day, Till their forts and defences in ruins he lay And from Richmond their Capitol drove them away. In spite of the Tribune and Greeley's advice With them to make peace regardless of price. To which if he'd listened our Country'd been lost, While now it's preserved and is worth all it cost. With the old ship of State he encountered a flood And steer'd her with firmness throu oceans of blood, And not for a moment was he seen to quail Even when with defeat our arms were assail'd. With wisdom and patience his plans he pursued Until the rebellion at last was subdued. And all of the States came back into line And form'd this great Union of States now so fine ; And once more our country was calm and serene When a bloody assassin appear'd on the scene. And like a sneak thief with pistol and knife He crawl'd up behind and took Lincoln's life. He jump'd to the stage and made his escape And once more our nation with mourning was draped. But justice o'ertook the vile despised wretch And hemp ropes his bloody associates stretch'd. The South with the North regretted the deed. And so they at once together agreed 67 To bury the hatchet and once more shake hands, Now no North ; no South but a united land. The day of his birth let us now celebrate And his virtues and firmness we will emulate, As the champion of justice and freedom and right Which he seal'd with his blood on that fatal night, And to all our brave heroes for country that bled We have cheers for the living and tears for the dead. ^ ^ ^ A PERSONAL DEVIL? These lines were suggested to the poet by the question being asked in the Bible class, "Is there a Personal Devil?" There's a personal Devil and there's no mistake, To prove it the story of Job we will take, Where it tells us the Devil appeared before God And begged that on Job he might lay the rod. It tells us he took away all that Job had. But he fail'd in all this to get Old Job mad. Then he cover'd his body all over with boils. After that he escaped from the old Serpent's coils. This story is false or else it is true. Because it is certainly one of the two. A little more evidence now we will draw From the Garden of Eden where man broke the law, Where the Devil coaxed Eve of the fruit to partake. And told her how wise her and Adam would make. But they very soon found he had told them a li& When God came and told them they surely must die, And out of the garden of Eden must go ; And their pathway be strewn with sorrow^ and woe, Eor thistles and thorns the earth would now grow, And back to the dust at the last they must go. Now in the new Testament we will seek next, Where people with Devils so often were vexed, 68 Until our Dear Saviour came into this world, When down from his throne Old Satan was hurl'd, First into the swine then into the sea. Now these are stern facts you all must agree And these things are false or else they are true. But perhaps there is nothing that will convince you, For you can't convince a man when he tries To stop up his ears and shut up his eyes, For there is more hope for the Devil himself Than there is for a wilfully ignorant elf. And that there's a hell there isn't a doubt, And I fear in the end we shall all find it out, When with his last breath poor mortals curse God, They are sure to be punished with his chastening rod. Then don't let smooth tongues your reason deceive. Or you'll surely get punished like Adam and Eve, And into that Hell you surely will go And dwell with Old Satan in Eternal woe. THE BATTLE OF GETTSBURG 'Twas fifty years ago today We met to fight — the Blue and Gray- Both sides believed that they were right, And to the death they came to fight. Each one resolved his foe to kill. Although he held him no ill will. 'Twas for a principle they fought — One must succeed — one come to naught. Now Cemetery HiU was Blue, And Big and Little Round top too. In silence there the Army lay Awaiting movements of the Gray. But now they hear the bugle sound 69 And tramp of men that jars the ground When Pickett, fifteen thousand strong, Towards the hill now swept along. And next they hear the cannons' roar That echoed back from shore to shore Whose horrid contents swept them down With dead and dying strew'd the ground. But they close up and onward still They rushed resolved to take the hill. The Boys in Blue withstood the shock And held their ground firm as a rock. And then poured in a withering fire That forced the Gray coats to retire. No flesh or courage could withstand That shower of lead that swept the land. Of fifteen thousand that went in, When they got back their ranks were thin. A mighty battle had been fought. Confederate hopes had come to naught. But now we meet — the Blue and Gray — In memory of that awful day; In friendship clasp each others hands And thus reseal the Union Bands. CARABAO All honor to Wilson and Daniels and Garrison Who resented an insult that has no comparison, By Generals and Admirals and officers too In a great celebration of the Carabao. The low and despicable songs that they sung, No wonder that Wilson and Bryan felt stung. On the Government Policy it threw a slur But the Philippine liberty it won't defer, 70 For Wilson and Bryan in spite of their song, Are determined to right our nation's great wrong; For Senator Hoar who calls things right names, Says for murder and pillage our nation's to blame, For war he says was never declared, the Senate would not And McKinley and Hanna found they could not. And so many thousands were murdered outright, Simply because for their freedom they fight. No wonder that fire and floods sweep our land And earthquakes and cyclones are seen on each hand. For blood of the innocent cries from the ground. We've been weighed in the balance and wanting we're found — That beautiful city from which our troops went With earthquakes and fire no man could prevent, 'Twas wiped off the earth, like a candle snuffed out; And why God permitted it there is no doubt. And now Billy Taft, you just call a halt And with Wilson's policy stop finding fault, For you should remember this ship you can't run, After making such work and ship-wrecking one — - The Republican ship you ran on the rocks. And gave the poor thing such horrible shocks, That it made her squeek, tremble and shiver, And with her at last you went up salt river. Now the Democrat ship has run smooth as grease, And its friends every day are on the increase. Hurrah for the party that advocates peace. And declares that the Philippines shall be released And then on the breeze as old glory unrolls, Not a spot or stain will be seen on her folds. Then over the land and over the sea To all that's oppressed a refuge she'll be. 71 GIVE ME THE FARM LIFE There's the baker, the barber and the drygoods vender, And grocers and drug stores and the money lender — Saloons and hotels that deal out the whiskey, which makes all their patrons feel funny and frisky. There's the blacksmith, and dentist that puts in our teeth, The jeweler, the milliner that sells ribbons and wreaths, And doctors and lawyers and jockeys galore. And junk and rag dealers at every man's door. The printers and ministers I can't leave out, For they are something we can't do without. But give me the farm with her wide spreading fields, The garden and orchard that crimson fruit yields. And the herds and the flocks that roam o'er the hills. And the life giving springs with their pure bubbling rills. And the pure breath of heaven that the farmer inhales. While with the purest of milk he fills up his pails. Which brings him the dollars and fills up his purse, And raises the mortgage with which he was cursed. And now the plain truth I do not enlarge. If a wayfarer calls he is fed without charge. There's a neighborly friendship that always exists Among farmers that in city or village you'll miss, Where its each for himself and the devil for all, And if you fall down you must lay where you fall. Unless you've got money to foot a big bill, A grave in the Potters Field you're sure to fill. Then boys, when you graduate, go to the farm, A good store of knowledge will do you no harm. It will help you along in each struggle and strife, Which you're sure to encounter in a long or short life. And then a great joy to your parents you'll give. To see you come home to stay while they live, 72 THE HISTORY OF MAN Oh how weak is poor man when he comes in the world He's the weakest of all God's creation, As into the whirlpool of time he is hurled, To work out his own destination. • With his small, tiny hand he is trying to grasp, And take in the queer situation ; He is struggling and tugging to pull off the mask Which obscures these strange sights from his vision. And though he's so small, he's the noblest of all, Of the works of his mighty creator ; Who gave him the world before his downfall, And all but his own divine nature. "Of all of the fruits of the fields you may eat, There is only one tree I'll deny, And all of the rest to your taste shall be sweet, If you taste that you surely will die," In the image of God the first man he was made ; And his beautiful wife, it is stated. Surpassed earthly beings in beauty 'tis said, For to Adam she's closely related. Though he gave him the world, yet he was not content, But after still more he kept grasping, To know all there was to be known he was bent. Though his punishment be everlasting. Now the serpent beguiled them by telling them lies, And our dear mother Eve done her share For she ate of the fruit and gave Adam likewise. And to death .she thus made us her heir. It opened their eyes as soon as they ate, And they saw that the evil was nigh, So they went off and hid well knowing their fate. For they knew they must surely die. 73 In the evening God came and walked in the shade, And when at last they were found, "Because we were naked we both were afraid, When we heard you step down on the ground." All the blame on his wife Adam naturally laid. Which through time to all man has come down, '"Twas the serpent beguiled me," the woman then said, "And told me a he I have found." Then Adam, he said, "you surely must die. And out of this garden must go" ; And to Eve, "Now your sorrows I will multiply, And your offspring must share in your woe." To the serpent, he said, "You're so vile and so low That her offspring shall bruise your vile head. And forever more on your belly you'll go. Eating dust of the earth for your bread." Then God cursed the earth, and blasted her fruits. And left it as we find it now, And now mortal man he must die like the brutes And earn bread by the sweat of his brow. And though man has fallen, he's still something grand, For the lightening that through the sky whirl'd, He has called to his aid, and at his command It now flashes the news 'round the world. As God through the old prophet *Nahum foretold. That the chariots with torches should be. So onward like lightening our fast trains now roll And the headlight is what Nahum see. And though man is small and his days but a span. Into all the dark mysteries he's prying, He crosses the ocean, goes like lightning on land, Sends his message now through the air flying. Oh had he obeyed his creator's command, 74 What a happy bright world this would be ; We should never grow old in this beautiful land, And the heaven of heavens we should see. Now the dear Son of God in pity look'd down, On poor mortals fallen estate. And beheld with alarm his dear father's frown. And saw that his anger was great. He said to His Father, ''my life I will give, To wipe out this terrible stain," And 'twas thus that he died that poor mortals might live, And through Him a heaven might gain. Now, you who find fault with Adam and Eve, If you read you will find out too well. From our forefather's sin by His death we're relieved, 'Tis our own sins that send us to hell. Then let us repent before it's too late, And our hearts to the dear Saviour give. For if we reject him we seal our own fate, And in endless torment we'll live. *n chapter of Nahum. THE TRAPPERS x\ND HUNTERS OF THE ADIRON- DACKS In the old hunter's camp you will always feel free, Where there's room for one they'll make room for three, And their blanket and grub with a stranger divide. And make him a bed on a deer or bear hide. There was William and Alva and Uncle Mose Leonard Who were champion trappers of that cunning reynard, To outwit this lad uncle Mose beat them all. For forty fine foxes he caught in one fall. Four panthers one day he brought down with his gun ; 75 In a trap on the mountain that night he caught one ; Eight wolves in a day in a hollow log caught, And a bounty of forty gold dollars each brought. If he wan't a hunter, then there is no fun, For forty-two panthers he killed with his gun ; And many a bear, he caught in his traps And otter and beaver and mink and muskrats. And sable and fisher and all kinds of furs. And many a wolf, the sheep killing curs ; And how many deer, the old fellow caught, I can't tell, but sleigh loads to market, he brought. There was uncle Fet. Tracy, Ezra Crary and Nash, True Crary and Crampton and Church got the cash. For they were good marksmen and centered the mark And followed the deer from day light till dark. There was uncle Jess Irish and Hamilton Nate ; Up to the Big Windfall they did emigrate, And built them a shanty, way up in the woods. And took along with them all their earthly goods. And although their shanty was not very large, Yet, never a strange by them was discharged. But they gave them the very best fare that they could — No city hotel could furnish as good. And there was one Ensign with his crazy bark. Would come down the lake in daylight or dark. With only a paddle, the lake he would run, When the white caps were jumping and dancing hke fun, And there was the Dillons whose heart were so large, Who constructed a sawmill and also a forge — It was Mrs. Dillon a lost hunter fed, Who had stray'd through the forest until nearly dead. And there was the Rasbacks who still hunted bears. And of other game they got their full shares; And there was the Rowlands and also the Towns, That hunted the foxes and kept fancy hounds; There was Crarys and Dewey and John and Al. Law, And Pearsons and Glassby and Johnney Bushaw, 76 And there was Walt. Smith, the journey would take, And meet with the boys at the foot of the lake. When we met at McConnell's to get our bread baked, 'Twas then lots of comfort we boys used to take. W^e told hunting stories and sung hunting songs. It was seldom you'd meet with a happier throng. There was Uncle Al. Olmstead and Uncle Mike Wright, That on the Twin Ponds had chosen a site. And they were true hunters as any that live, If you call'd, a night's lodging and food they would give. It was on the Twin Ponds one very dark night Hal. Ives went out floating with Uncle Mike Wright, Their boat got capsized and they lost light and gun, And they got such a ducking it spoilt all their fun; And there was Steve Hathaway on a log watching, When 'round just behind him he heard something scratching He turned around quickly and what should he see. But a couple of bears backing down from a tree. He fired and one of the little lads fell, It was then he began for his mother to yell ; He turn'd and the mother was close to his heels — So close that even her breath he could feel. He turned and a stick caught his heel and cowhack, Down flat on the ground he went on his back ; To chew up his feet the old lady tried. But he placed his rifle up close to her side, And fired, and into the woods she now fled, While the ground was cover'd with blood where she bled. He must kill her with this or he'd surely be dead, For this was the very last charge that he had. Up came Uncle Mose and finished the cub. And said, "Uncle Steve, you had a tight rub." To the old one he said, "why didn't you flee. You might known he would kill you, he's a cousin to me." On the lake was George Sawyer, the bravest of all, Who rescued a stranger in a fearful squall, 77 Whose boat had capsized and to it he clung, \Vhile his wife on the shore in grief her hands wrung. Then Sawyer came running and cursing and swearing, And calHng them cowards for not even daring To go to the rescue, "You cowardly hounds. Will you all stand there gawping and see a man drown?'* He sprung in a boat and in spite of the waves. In less than ten minutes the stranger he saved; And brought him ashore to his wife bathed in tears, And the crowd that had gathered for Sawyer gave cheer Now Lyford and Barber from old Syracuse, Brought telescope rifles that shot like the deuce, They went up with Crary to Cranberry Lake, And got all the vension and trout they could take. John, Abert and Will from Massena came here — To go in the woods to get a few deer — They went to the Windfall with Crary and son. Four fell if they stood and were killed if they run. There was Uncle Hi Hutchins, I will not forget, He was the best fisherman I ever met, For we caught just a hundred straight pounds of good trout And in Sackrider's peddUng trunk we brought them out. THE BATTLE OF PLATTSBURGH ON LAKE CHAM- PLAIN (Written April 3, 1914.) One hundred years have rolled around. And we have come to view the ground. Where our forefathers bravely fought. And with their blood our freedom bought. In eighteen hundred and fourteen, A gallant band might have been seen, At Plattsburgh and on Lake Champlain, Their country's honor to maintain, 78 Four uncles joined this noble band, To fight for home and native land, When Redcoats cross'd the Yankee linC; An easy victory sure to find. But they found out their sad mistake When to their heels they had to take, For when they tried the bridge to cross, 'Twas there they met with fearful loss. For on the stringers guns were trained, That swept them off in heaps of slain. Three times they tried to rush across. But each time added to their loss ; Then up the river they withdrew. And tried the river to wade through ; But ere they reached the other shore. Again they hear an awful roar; For Yanks were hid behind the trees, That swept them down with greatest ease. ■'Twas then the river ran with gore. And they were driven back once more. The British and Macdonough's fleet Now on the lake was seen to meet ; And soon the cannon's fearful roar. Was echoing back from shore to shore. The Yankee guns were sighted right ; With desperation now both fight, But Yankee marksmanship soon led. The British decks were strewn with dead — In helpless wrecks their ships soon lay. They could not even run away ; So one by one their colors lower. And the Yankee fleet towed them ashore. The army had beheld the sight. And quickly now they took to flight, For they imagined that they see, A Yank behind each stump and tree. And heard them shouting ev'ry one, 79 ''You've got too far from Canada, run boys, run." And from that time they've been too shrewd On Yankee freedom to intrude. Our Eagle sits on freedom's bough. The Lion keeps his own den now, We've come to-day to celebrate The victory of that battle great. That help'd decide our nation's fate ; And saved our glorious ship of state, And though in peace their ashes lie. The fame they won will never die — Down through the ages it will roll As lasting as the purest gold. * * * THE DYING HUNTER In the forest deep where the lilies sweet Shed their fragrance, lovely fragrance on the air, 'Round the sparkling pond skips the playful fawn Sporting so free, sporting so free from ev'ry care ; Where the white gull waves her snowy white wing Over the lake ; over the lake she skims along To her native rock where her own little flock. Ever murmur, ever murmur forth their song. Chorus : — Then take me back to my forest home. From it again. I'll never roam — Away from the city and tower and dome ; Oh give me back my forest home. Where the brooklet sings and the speckled trout springs. Music of birds ; music of birds fill the air ;. And the busy bee in the tall hollow tree, Beautiful sweets ; beautiful sweets stow'd with care ; Where the noisy loon by the light of the moon, Over the wave and under the wave she floats, along. 08 While the Eagle that I love sits upon the crag above, And the whipoorwill warbles forth her song. Chorus : — When the evening shades fall among the glades, And the nightengale's song begins to blend, Returning from the chase my footsteps I'll retrace, To my home; ever green home in the glen. With my light canoe and my rifle so true, Over the stream, over the stream I'll swiftly glide. And the firefly lamp, it will guide me to the camp, Beautiful home ; beautiful home of the free. Change of tune. Once more I'm back on the shining shore; Once more I meet with the friends of yore. The stories and songs are repeated o'er. As they cluster around my shanty door. I will drink from the cooling fountain, Of the brook that ripples through the dell; I'll climb yon lofty mountain, Upon whose crag the eagles dwell. Chorus : — But hark, I hear an angel song; Oh, don't you hear it float along? Adieu, adieu, my forest home. Bright angels now for me have come. Oh now I see a heavenly gleam, Shine down on me as I reach death's stream- On the bank of the lake where I used to roam. Oh lay me to rest near my forest home. ST. LAWRENCE COUNTY Near where old St. Lawrence rolls down from the lakes 81 Lies our noble old St. Lawrence County — The largest and grandest in all of our state, And fill'd up with heaven's choice bounties, She can boast of her forests and rivers so grand As they rush down her mountains so frantic, Creating the best waterpower in the land, In their mad rush to reach the Atlantic. Of her life giving springs and the purest of air. Of her butter and cheese with which few can compare; Stow'd away in the earth with the greatest of care There is iron and copper and crystals so rare. Of her Governor Wright, her Parker and Russell, Her Curtis and Kings and Iveses and Merritts, And hundreds of more who have just made thing's hustle And proved to the world they were full eighteen carets. Of, her beautiful fruit with their flavor so rare, That touches the palate just right. With color so crimson and so bright and fair That it sells on the market at sight ; Her authors and poets now come to the front And our boys are nov/ filling high stations, They'er made of true stuff and their will and their won't, Will help to control our great nation. We also have schools that are second to none Where our boys get a grand education, And when by hard work the grand prize they have won They are fitted to fill any station. Then hail old St. Lawrence, and hail her brave boys, That are scatter'd throughout our great nation. And when they see this they will know we rejoice When we hear how they won their high station. We don't mean to boast that we all know the most. There is one fact that stands out quite plain, 82 Though born far away from the city or court, We are noted for both rush and brains. * * SPANISH WAR (Tune on, on on the boys came marching.) The time it came at last when we heard the bugles blast, As it caird our boys to war from sea to sea, And the boys went marching on 'neath a broiUng tropic sun. They were bound to set poor, bleeding Cuba free. Chorus : — On, on, on the boys went marching, And they made the Spaniards flee. For the red and yellow flag It was nothing but a rag When it met the Stars and Stripes on land or sea ; Brave Dewey led the van, though he did not lose a man. For the God of battles fought for us that day; In the darkness of the night, he sail'd past their forts all right And was ready for the fight at break of day. Chorus : — On, on, on his ships went sailing. While the flagship led the way He sunk the Spanish fleet, And distroyed their forts complete, And he won a grand and glorious victory. Brave Hobson and his crew seem'd to know just what to do Though the shot and shell fell 'round them thick as hail, Ev'ry man was in his place while they made the fearful race. All determined that their project should not fail. Chorus : — On, on, on this ship went saiHng With the Stars and Stripes so trim, When brave Hobson lower'd the boats. And away from her he floats Then he sent her to the bottom with a vim. Next comes the Atlantic fleet with a victory complete, For each ship contain'd a brave and noble crew, With a Schley that can't be beat they distroy'd Cervera's fleet And the wrecks alone: the Cuban coast thev strew. 'fc> Chorus : — Brave Roosevelt led the boys, who with shouts and with hurrahs, Up the hill of San Juan went with a rush. Not a man was seen to quail as they faced the leaden hail 'Till the last one of their hidden foes were crushed. Chorus : — On, on, on the boys went marching. While fallen comrades lined the way; High on the roll of fame Stands the record and the name Of the boys that charged on San Juan that day. Now the cruel war is o'er and our boys are home once more And the Spaniards have been driven o'er the sea — A united South and North we will celebrate the fourth, And we'll have a grand and glorious jubilee. Chorus : — AN INDIAN LEGEND 'Twas many, many moons ago Down from the land of ice and snow 84 Our tribe and Chieftain came — The mound builders a feeble folk Soon fell before the Red Man's stroke And we took land and game. Then many, many moons rolled by And the great spirit seemed to fly, And lead his poor red child — He led him o'er prairies fine; The forests green with game was lined, And Indian corn grew wild. We soon found out that it was good, And made the very best of food, When it was roasted green. Or parched and made up into cake, Which all our squaws soon learned to make, As with us now 'tis seen. Pappose and Squaw were happy then; Firewater made by vile white men, The Red Alan did not know ; We chased the bison and the moose, With turkey, chicken and wild goose Our lodges then were strewn. We rode our ponies o'er the plain, And joy and peace supremely reigned Until that fatal day, The idol of our tribe so fair. With sparkling eyes and flowing hair. Was stole from us away. A young chief from a neighboring tribe Had taken her to be his bride. Against the maiden's will ; Young braves were in their saddles quick, They take the trail and to it stick, Resolved the wretch to kill. O'er hill and plain their ponies skim, 85 Until the twilight shades grow dim, And they were forced to camp ; But when the morn begins to break, The trail again they quickly take, Resolved to catch the scamp. The chase in earnest now begins, Through forests green and swampy fen. His trail he tries to hide, But his pursuers are not blind, They circle 'round and quickly find. For life he now must ride. To ride and lead a pony too. He found was more than he could do, And the result was plain He knew if they should him o'er take That torture surely 'd be his fate — All pleading would be vain. His haughty lip now curled with pride And then he swore no other's bride, This lovely maid should be. He drove his dagger to her heart, Then for his village quickly starts, Now from his burden free. Her lover knelt and bowed his head, And kissed those lips now cold and dead, His heart was filled with grief; He bore her home with tenderest care. And laid her in her wigwam there — The dauo-hter of our Chief. '&' His comrades still pursue the wretch. Resolved the miscreant to catch, Ere he shall reach his tribe. Her brother leading in the chase, Now fast he's closing up the space, And both for life now ride. 86 A few more minutes, he will be Safe from his deadly enemy, In his own village fair. The bow string's twang now sends the dart, That pierces through the villian's heart. Then war-whoops rend the air. He takes his scalp, and in great haste Their footsteps now they will retrace. His tribe has seen him fall, They mount their ponies and give chase, But our brave boys maintain the pace Till night sent down her pall. Now silently they wend their way. And reach their friends ere break of day. Their enemies they've foiled. Both villages are now astir. And they at once prepare for war. And a big council called. The father was the first to speak, Though tears ne'er wet an Indian's cheek; His heart is very sad. But he with trembling lips relates The story of his daughter's fate. Which sent the whole tribe mad. With sad, sad hearts both squaw and brave In silence stood around her grave. With flowers they strewed it o'er. And then with tomahawks in hand. They struck the war post to a man And bitter vengeance swore. In a few days the two tribes met. And field and wood with blood was wet — They had a fearful fight. And cruel war has had her sway. Among the Red Men from that day. And might with them was right. 87 The white man came and from that day Our land from us he took away, And drove us from our homes — They drove us west, then farther west. And never gave us peace or rest, •But robbed us of our tombs. The white man cannot o'er us boast; His land is filled w4th murdered ghosts, By cruel war struck down ; And though he claims to think it's right, To kill each other in the fight, A great wrong twill be found. This hand of mine although 'tis red, Yet human blood it never shed; My heart is clean and white ; When the great spirit brings me home, Through happy hunting grounds Vl\ roam, In that great world of light. There squG,w and papoose will meet me, From pain and sorrow we'll be free. And on bright pinions rise, And then we'll fly through endless space ; See the Great Spirit face to face. And dwell above the skies. * * THANKSGIVING IN THE DEAR OLD HOME With pride I look back o'er the fieeting years. When the dear ones all came flocking home To spend their Thanksgiving and bring us good cheer, And through the old orchard to roam ; A great joy it was to their father and mother, ■ Who so long to the old home had clung, It was then that kind greetings they had for each other — And together the old songs we sung. 88 Then 'round the big table we sat side by side, With the richest of viands 'twas spread; Which none but their mother could ever provide, And no one preside in her stead. With the richest of fruit our table was decked, With snows and with Mcintosh Red; For those days to return I can never expect ; On the swift wings of time they have sped. There is mother and Carrie and Ira and Berd And Georgie and Alamie and Herbert in line. And the next one you'll guess without saying a word, Mr. and Mrs. Bullis come next and Cora and Dolly behind. This picture was taken and I have it yet, No money this picture would buy, For a treasurer so rare you don't often get. And I'll cling to it now till I die. Now death has broke into this once happy throng, And taken our loved one away,_ And God in his wisdom knows only how long That we'll be permitted to stay. On the hillside of time like a venerable oak Exposed to life's storms, I now stand. But to Christ my redeemer I'll continue to look And face life and death like a man. ^ Jjc ^ IN HONOR OF THE BOYS WHO FELL AT VERA CRUZ Our fleet at Vera Cruz arrives ; Seventeen brave boys their precious lives Laid on their country's altar, Though rifles from the house tops cracked. They found they could not drive them back, Nor even make them falter. But like brave Spartans held their ground. Though messengers of death flew 'round, 89 Until at last they fell — They died Old Glory to maintain, They lost their lives, but not in vain; They did their duty well. Ones father and his brother, too. Are ready still to dare and do, And take these brave boys' place ; No greater courage can be shown. Nor in this world was ever known In any land or race. High on the nation's roll of fame, With their hearts' blood they've put their name, In letters pure as gold, And there they'll stand and prove they prized Their country's weal above their lives. As Spartans did of old. Now the Montana brings them home. And in New York thousands will come. And follow to their graves. A nation's tears be for them shed Who for Old Glory's honor bled, While o'er their graves she waves. The flags were lowered at half mast. On every vessel that they passed; W^hile our ships fired a salute In honor of our noble dead. Who for their country's honor bled. While friends with grief are mute. A nation joins you in your grief. Which to your hearts must give relief. You know they mourn with you. How many more brave boys must fall. Is a dark mystery to us all ; But one thing will prove true, That our brave boys now in the field 90 To twice their number will not yield, Though cruel death they face, With our big guns it will be seen. They'll blow them into smithereens And ten a thousand chase. Our citizens they must protect. And show Old Glory due respect, Or get wiped off the earth. A bitter lesson they'll learn yet. Something they never will forget — 'Twill prove our armies worth. NAVAL BATTLE ON THE SEA OF JAPAN (Tune, Marching through Georgia.) Raise the flag and ring the bells For Togo's fleet's in sight ; Ah, see how proud she rides the swell. Nor turns to left or right. 'Twas thus she met the Russian fleet, i\nd showed them how to fight. For ev'ry shell in spite of swells. Was aimed exactly right. That gallant fleet; that mighty fleet. That fought the English trawlers, And won a victory complete Which made them feel much taller. But when this fleet our Togo met They found he carried guns. And to the cat hole they must get And either sink or run. Chorus : — Hurrah, hurrah, they sunk the Russian fleet; Hurrah, hurrah, their victory was complete ; 91 For they can shoot a cannon just as well as any gjin, They sunk them when they stood, and hit them when they run. Now, Togo signaled ev'ry man To do his uttermost. For if we're beat, you'll understand Our Kingdom will be lost. Into confusion soon they're thrown, Their ships begin to sink, Their engines hit by shells now groan. Which makes their gunners blink. No wonder that their shots went wild. And done so little harm. With victory they had been beguiled. But now they were alarmed; The Russian decks were soon a hell With dead men strewed around. And every shell now screamed and yelled, ;;,. • And says they must go down. So one by one they slowly lowered And plunge beneath the wave, And ev'ry living soul aboard. Soon found a watery grave. Now Rojetsvenskie left his ship, , And jumped into the sea; He saw that he would have to skip. Or lost he'd surely be. And from that time you'll plainly see, That Togo had his way ; And only just a few got free — The rest are ours to-day. We're masters now of our own sea, Our fate hung on a thread. Brave Togo won this victory And Russia's hopes are dead. THE LAST HUNTER IN THE ADIRONDACK MOUN- TAINS A weary hunter long had chased The bounding buck o'er hill and dale ; Of food since morn he had not tasted— His voice was faint, his cheek was pale ; The snow was deep, his limbs were chilled. When night her sable mantle drew For miles through vales and o'er bleak hills His lonely way he must pursue. ' ■' He often lies down in the snow, With hunger and fatigue oppressed; He knows not how far he's to go, - '■ Before his weary limbs can rest. '''' He hears the fierce wolf's distant howl, And knows he's on his track ; He hears the savage panther's growl, But naught can turn him back. His trusty rifle in his hand. His hatchet by his side. His hunting knife at his command They're friends that's true and tried. At length a light peers through the trees. The hunter's spirit now revives, And though the snow is to his knees. To gain that dwelling now he strives. A lady met him at the' door And spoke kind words of goodly cheer; The best she had, she set before. And said a stranger's welcome here. That hunter never will forget The welcome which he then received, That lady never will regret 93 That she his suffering's did reheve. Now may kind heaven increase her store, Increase a thousand fold And may she never hunger more, Who fed a hunter faint and cold. THE OPPRESSIVE GAME LAWS Now Governor Plughes, there is no excuse For vetoing the two cent bill, For the rich man can ride by the poor man's side For two cents where ever he will. But the laboring man must do as he can. Earning bread by the sweat of his brow, Must pay nearly three or get off you see, For a book he can't buy any how. And that trespass law you took in your maw, And made it a crime and a fine Preserves to go cross, although you are lost, You must pay or in jail you'll repine. Now for only six cents the farmer's fence And grass and grain is tread down. But its twenty-five dollars when the rich man hollars- You must pay or in jail you'll be found. It is one dollar ten to carry a gun From the poor man's small pittance of cash, Or pay sixty dollars if the rich man hollers, Or the gaol door behind him will crash. Now this friction so great, forest fires create. And the woods will soon be burnt down; If bad laws ain't repealed a wild barren field, Our forest, I fear, will be found. Her fate I deplore for a few times more, I would like to roam over her hills. And savory meat bring down at my feet, 94 For nothing else will fill the bill, Oh, oh, what a shame but who is to blame, The rich man made all of these laws ; Now the way to reduce this shameful abuse, Is to vote down their party and cause. BEAUTIFUL FRUIT Oh beautiful fruit ; God's bountiful gift. Whose flavor is drawn from the sun ; And poor fallen man from his low estate lifts, And helps him the race of life run. No picture for beautiy that man ever made, With the genuine fruit can compare ; So brilliant in color and perfect in shade, And with colors so varied and rare. And first stands the apple that tempted poor Eve ; If the legend that's told us is true, And it would tempted me I verily believe. And a red one I'm sure would tempt you. Then there is the plum, the peach and the pear, The lemon and orange so grand, And the grape with whose wine there can nothing compare And wild berries cover the land| Oh beautiful heaven to man has been given These beautiful fniits for his food, And thus to us given a foretaste of heaven Which proves that God's both wise and good. He tells us again in that heavenh^ land The grand tree of life we shall find. The tree's so prolific, the fruit is so grand, And each bears twelve different kinds. Now the infidel says this story's a lie, 95 Oh what a poor ignorant goose, If he'll come to my place I will quick show him why I can make each limb bear what I choose. Then why should he doubt that Almighty God, Who created the world and the trees : Whose words they obey, and one single nod W^ould make them bear just what he pleased? Now, this God I'll adore while I stay on this shore, And eat of this fruit at my will. And when the dark river I've safely pass'd o'er, From the tree of life may I eat still. 5jj ^ ^ OPPORTUNITY They call me opportunity; But once in a life time we meet. As I hasten through your community I walk on the toes of my feet, And those wings on my feet that you see. Are to show you how quick I pass by. Unless by the hair you now seize me. When past you I quickly will fly. Though again for the chance you miay yearn. When once you have let me pass by. You will find that I never return But onward, straight onward I fly. The wise Greeks a statue did raise. And on it this lesson engraved. That the traveler upon it might gaze And from disappointment be saved. Then let us this lesson receive. And then we shall never regret. Or will never have reason to grieve. That we did not seize her when we met. 96 CO QO til a o a o •on C THE GREAT WINDFALL NEAR CRANBERRY LAKE Among the Adirondack peaks, Where nature played her wildest freaks, I've wander 'd many a day, To hunt the panther, bear and deer, And followed them devoid of fear, In hopes my game to slay. O'er rocky cliffs, through swampy fens, I've traced the creatures to their dens, And slain them in their lair. Here wild tornadoe's tracks are seen, That swept the forest slick and clean. And hills and plains left bare. For miles and miles the tempest tore Trees from their roots and broke them o'er. And piled them up in heaps ; It spread about one half mile wide. And swept on like the ocean's tide. Yet a straight line it keeps. It's power and fury seemed to gain From Osewegatchie to Champlain ; It mowed a fearful swath, But when it struck that lovely lake It's force at once it seemed to break. And in the air bounds off. God in his mercy sent the storm Where it would do but little harm ; Thus many lives were saved, For had it gone through settled lands It would not left a beast or man. But swept them to their grave. From West to East in a straight line It n]ade a landmark for all time. Full seventy miles in length. In it we see the hand of God 97 When he sends down his chastening rod; It shows his mighty strength, Who spoke and worlds at his command, Divided water from the land. As into space they fly, And there they fly through endless space Each has it's track and it's own place, And goes true as a die. And though they cross each other's track, The law God made is so exact, They never come together, . . But each one comes in his own time — There's no collision on this line ; They're guided by the Father. Then 1 will wonder and adore ; Oh may, he guide me ever more. Till time with me grows dim. Then take me home the song to sing; Redeeming love of God my King, And reign in heaven with him. ^ ^ ;^ THE CIRCUIT RIDER Answer to a yarn in the Watertown Standard, entitled a Circuit Rider's Experience in the North Country. This fellow got the big head And thought it would be best A yarn to spin but he got in A living hornets nest ; He found North Country was not slow An insult to resent, And so he thought it best to go And took his clothes and went. If in the North Country he's caught, 98 By court marshall he'll quickly be tried, When the gauntlet he's run, he'll find it's no fun; When the oil of blue beech is applied; Now a lesson we hope he will learn. And hereafter keep truth on his side. Or on a rail he will not fail Some day to take a ride. * * * LIFE IN THE ADIRONDACKS In the North Country's forest grand. The wildest place in all the land, With foilage so green, There mountain peaks in bold relief. And hill and plain and grassy heath Add beauty to the scene. Here lovely lakes and ponds are seen. And beaver meadows, fresh and green, And brooks and rivers rise. Where speckled trout dart up the streams, 'Tis merry sport and 'tis no dream To catch them with the flies. You don't get even time to think; They catch the fly as quick as wink, And down the stream they glide ; But soon they fl.nd the line is stout, And sharp hooks now have hooked the trout, You draw him in with pride. Now those who never tried the sport, Of keenest pleasure have come short, And never felt the thrill That passes through the sportsman's heart, And gives his very blood a start. While his basket with beauties fills. The grouse are plenty in these woods 99 And if a man is any good He'll bring in a fine string; Now when a partridge is fried brown A dainty morsel it is found, And it would please a king. Here sportsmen come and camp for weeks, And after health and pleasure seeks, And rare sports they enjoy: They see a deer's track in the snow. And now you'll see him creeping slow, And ev'ry means employ At that fine buck to get a crack, And hopes e'er night to bring him back, His skill he means to show. He leaves the track and swings around; The wily creature hears a sound. And bounds off o'er the- snow. He follows on with hunter's grit In hopes at him a shot to get. One that will bring him down ; And now again the hunter creeps Up o'er the hills so high and steep, Until his game he's found. He brings his rifle to his face. And aims it at a vital place. And at the rifles crack The deer now gives a mighty bound, The blood is flowing from the wound, 'Tis seen along his track. The hunter's nerves now reach a pitch That makes his very fingers itch To get another shot. This time good luck his efforts crown. His last shot brings the fellow down. And a fine buck he's got. 100 Back to the shanty then with pride, A pair of antlers by his side, To all is perfect proof That he's a hunter and 'tis clear That he has killed as fine a deer As ever wore a hoof. Exciting scenes now ev'ry day Make days and weeks soon slip away; Soon we must leave the woods Back to our labor we must go, To farm, or shop, or mill you know. Or store to sell our goods. But if we live another year We certainly will come up here And have our pleasures o'er : For when we're here you'll plainly see, From care and worry we are free On this delightful shore. MY DEAR. OLD HOME ON THE HILL My dear old home up on the hill. Near Adirondacks forest grand; My heart with rapture now is filled, Although I'm now an old, old man. I look back to them happy days, And seem to live them o'er. When brothers, sisters, playmates played. All 'round my father's door. Beneath that grand old apple tree. The happy hours we pass'd; Fond memory brings them back to me. And will while memory lasts. Those lovely songs we used to sing, 101 When night her mantle drew, Still in my ears they seem to ring As they did years ago. 'Twas then I only look'd ahead, But now I'm looking back, Friends, of my youth are most all dead But friends I do not lack, For I have children kind and true, Who give me tenderest care. Beside my life companion too, My dear old home to share. ril eat the fruit from my own tree Set by my once strong hand. And though Fm old I'll happy be. In the home of my native land. Then with my grandchildren, I'll play. And have all the fun that I can, For I know it's not long that I shall stay. But I'll face life and death like a man. Then I'll worship the God who long hfe has given, And serve him the best that I can. In hopes at the last he will take me to heaven, At the feet of mv Saviour to stand. STANFORD WHITE'S DEN That awful place that's a disgrace To any land or nation, A rich man's den whose aim and end Was poor girl's degradation : That Stanford White had such a place. There seems but little doubt, It is a blessing to our race When such men are sent out. 102 A man who would employ his skill Poor helpless maidens to destroy, Should be sent cross lots straight to hell, Where they will find employ; For there he'll find Old Satan's darts, Will pierce clear through his soul, While demons tear his vile black heart And fiery billows roll. All but one juror true as steel, To their convictions true. They stood for hours and would not yield, What their oaths bound them to do. But there was one who made by chance With a soul so mighty small On a needle's point ten thousand could dance With plenty of room for all. If such black crimes should be allowed, A reign of terror there would be, A Sodom and Gomorrah crowd In New York City you would see. No virtuous woman should look down, On the girl that exposed the plot. But on her side they should be found And her misfortune be forgot. Now public opinion cannot be crushed, Or thrown behind the door, They'll have their opinion and have it they must, Though District Attorneys may roar. Now there's old Jerome, he'd better go home. And crawl down into his hole. For the people are sick of his playing tricks. And his spending the people's gold. For what fool can't see he's chasing a flea, And spending our money for naught, Now if he gets Thaw, he ain't worth a straw. And the fiddle's too dearly bought; But he thinks it's funny to spend the State's money, 103 When the biggest share of it he's getting; But Thaw is so smart that he's kept the start And Jerome he is surely outwitting. H^ ^ H^ PHIL SHERIDAN'S RIDE DOWN THE VALLEY Phil mounted on a powerful steed Now down the valley takes the lead : Alarming news, his soul had stir'd, His boys retreating he had heard; Both whip and spur, he now appHes, And down the valley fairly flies ; He must get there at any cost, Or else the battle will be lost. Montgomery was the first to meet, Who says we'll make a safe retreat, "Not by D sight," Phil blurts out, "I want you boys to turn about — Come' back and help me," boys he said. 'Twas then towards the front he led; The next he met was Custer's command Who had crossed the ravine and there took their stand, Custer said, 'Tn the bushes our guns are hid well, When they cross that ravine then we'll give them hell ; Phil saw through his plan, then quicker than wink. And says, ''you are the stuff, here have something to drink, The Rebs we will slaughter without any warning, And I'll have my headquarters where they were this morn- ing." And long before night he made his word good, And accomplished a feat that no other man could. Such generals as Phil you don't often meet, For he won a big batttle in the face of defeat. And drove the Rebs back where ever he led ; Their pathway was scattered with wounded and dead, And our glorious union, he helped to preserve, 104 And a nation's gratitude he well deserved. Then over his ashes a monument raise, While historian and poet will sing of his praise. WARNING OF FIRE, FLOOD AND DROUTH, FAMINE AND PESTILENCE TO FOLLOW (Written when Roosevelt took McKinley's place.) I've worked all my life on this noble old farm, While others the cities have sought. In growing fine fruit by Nature's charm. This science to perfection I've brought. But now I'll quit work, the pen I'll take up, Though of it I make awkward work, x^nd though bitter drugs may be put in my cup My duty I never will shirk. I will say wrong is wrong, and say right is right Though demons around me may howl. For God and my country I ever will fight. Though party and friends on me scowl. Our country has sinned; we must now pay the debt, For innocent blood from the grotmd Is crying to God and he'll punish us yet — In the Philippine Islands 'tis found. Now fires and floods are destroying our west, And fires and floods south and east, And a just God in heaven will give us no rest, Till this poor oppressed people's releast. Oh who is so blind that they can't see a curse Has struck us for what we have done ; These people release or he'll make it worse And a pestilence on us may come. Concentrado camps for their families we made, 105 Where with pestilence thousands have died, We've put Spanish cruelty back in the shade While the vile water cure we've tried. A just God in heaven whose anger is slow, But is sure as the sun in its course, Will punish our country for all of this woe, And nothing could happen us worse. Oh then let our country this great wrong make right, For five hundred thousand we've killed, Just simply because for their freedom they fight Their country with mourning we've filled. Then sackloth put on and let us repent, Ere the vengeance of God on us fall. And perchance like old Nineveh if we repent Our sentence of death he'll recall. * * * POTSDAM'S CENTENNIAL 'Twas just one hundred years ago The settlers first broke ground ; The forest then they soon laid low. And founded Potsdam town : The settlers now would hardly know The place if they were here. Where stood the tree they first laid low Or any where a near. They'd stand and gaze and look around; 'Twould filll their hearts with awe. And wonder if this was the town So long ago they saw. The news soon sped back to Vermont, From whence the settlers came. That the people here need know no want For the land was filled with erame. fe' Then others soon came flocking in, 106 And new foundations laid, And the village as you see it now Is the work of ten decades, And as one hundred years roll on We'll all be swept away And ev'ry one that's here be gone Where our fathers are today. But noble sons will take our place, And finish the work we've begun ; Then don't let us mourn and draw down our face, But let us all smile and have fun. Our village is something of which we are proud, For our buildings are now something grand, And our village today is filled with a crowd That's an honor to our noble land. Our streets are paved and sidewalks laid. And we have splendid grounds ; Electric lights now light our nights, And the cars now sweep through our town. Yes three fine railroads span our town, And hustle business too ; In stores and mills enough is found For ev'ry one to do. • Then ev'ry one should happy be, And all rejoice today; Time ere an other century Will sweep us all away; And still the world will roll right on, And we be hardly missed. And greater wonders will be done, Than those that now exist. Hi * * GOLDEN WEDDDING ANNIVERSARY OF MR. AND MRS. DANIEL ROBINSON Oh, how swiftly fifty years On the wings of time have flown, 107 Mingled with flowers and joys and tears Along our pathway strown. As I look back o'er fleeting years To the happy days of youth, A picture to me now appears Of friends that were friends in truth. And now there's but a few that's left Of all I used to know, But for the silent land they've left Where we must shortly go. Of those that's left, Alice and Dan Who fifty years ago Launched their ship, each took their stand And together they always row. And though the hand of time has swept, Their many friends away Their course you'll see they've always kept. And they're with us today. And now we've come to celebrate Their fiftieth wedding day. And thus we strive to elevate And smooth their future way. Now may kind heaven protect and keep This aged, happy pair; And when at last in death they sleep. A heaven together share. ;H * * ON THE DEATH OF CARMELITA AND WINNIE CRARY (Daughters of Geo. L. and JuHa L. Crary, both taken in five days.) The evening stooped down o'er the beautiful flowers, 108 And kissed their fair lips with the dew, But the morning burst forth with omnipotent power And quickly the evening withdrew. It was thus cruel death kissed away our fair flowers, And laid them away in the tomb, But Jesus will raise them with majestic power Forever in glory to bloom. 'Tis right we should weep when the shades o'er us fall, . For Jesus o'ver Lazarus wept, When Mary and Martha the Master had called. He told them that Lazarus but slept. They opened the tomb and he put forth his hand. And said to him, ''Lazarus arise," And death and the grave quick obeyed the command Of the King of the earth and the skies. 'Twill be thus when that day of all days shall burst forth And our Saviour appears in the skies, From the east to the west from the south to the north He will bid all the nations arise. It is there we shall meet our sweet angels of light, And roam throiigh the regions of bliss In one endless day without any night And may none from our circle be missed. TEMPERANCE SONG (Tune, Marching Through Georgia.) See that little ragged girl go wandering down the street, Begging for a crust of bread or something she can eat. She says her mother's sick at home, their sufferings no one can tell While her father's lying drunk down at the big hotel. 109 Chorus : — Hurrah, hurrah we'll join the temperance cry; Hurrah, hurrah we'll fight and win or die, And we'll put down the whiskey trade. So all good people say For temperance is sure to win the day. I saw a poor old drunken man go staggering down the street, Proposing fight, and cursing ev'ry one he chance to meet, Oh my heart in pity for his wife and children bled For whiskey robs them of their daily bread. Chorus : — We call on all good, honest men to join us in the fight; We'll fight for God and liberty ; for temperance and the right. We'll fight to crush the whiskey ring who make this earth a hell In which so many noble men have fell. Chorus : — Ye voting men come listen now and look things up with care, And then no longer you will vote to help sustain the bear. But you will vote with us, we know, the perishing to save. And keep your sons from going down to fill a drunkard's grave. Chorus : — When government at Washington shall take the thing in hand. And make such laws that whiskey will be banished from our land, By making it a crime to make the stufif or buy or sell. And make ten thousand happy homes that whiskev made a hell. Chorus : — . . - 110 SPEECH MAKING TAFT (March 9th, 1914.) Taft says he's up an apple tree, 'Twere better if he'd stay there, Instead of trying to make us see. That Washington would swear. He said that Grant had to resign. Because he would drink whiskey, Right at his tomb ; now wan't that fine. My stars boys don't that twist ye. He is a mighty man by weight, But that don't always count ; Lacks common sense to keep him straight, At least a small amount. Now can't you think of a few more Mean things that you can say About our noblest men of yore ? Now Billy you go way. AN ACROSTIC ON VIVIAN FOX (June 15, 191 1.) Very pleased to get your card, I must confess I was : Vivian, you must have worked hard. In a most noble cause, And with long life may you be blest — No grief or sorrow know. For learning is the very best Of guides where e'er we go. X is last letter of your name. Ill But soon it may not be the same, And if that should happen and you should think best, Just drop me a line and I'll write out the rest. * * ROOSEVELT AND AGUINALDO High on the roll of fame Aguinaldo wrote his name In large letters of the purest, purest gold, As a man who dared to fight for his country and the right, When he found out that his country had been sold. Gen Funston the myth, and old hell roaring Smith, Who committed those horrible crimes. Our goodess turns pale and her fate she bewails, For they daubed her all over with slime. And when with such men he had to contend. It is a great wonder to me How he held out so long against the great wrong In the struggle his country to free. For the things they invented are greatly lamented By a nation that boasts we are free ; With their vile water cure whose meanness I'm sure Would shame a wild Comanchee. And there is his capture, who can show such a chapter — Of low lived and mean treacherous work, When history you've searched you'll be left in the lurch, From creation clear down to the Turk. Now let's draw the vail for our goodess looks pale. And with shame wants to hide her fair head. And Old Glory's bright folds are now done up in roll. For she's wrapped 'round our brave noble dead. I have cheers for the living and tears for the dead. Who for country their dear lives have given ; But oh, what a shame there is some one to blame 112 Life in the Adifondacks — Poem on page 99 For in this vile war they were driven. Then let us arouse from our nightmare and drouse, And give this brave man his just due ; Spreading liberty o'er his country once more, And the whole world will then applaud you. All honor to Roosevelt who with brave Cuba dealt, For you all with me must agree, That our flag he pulled down while old Mark Hanna frown'd. And set all the brave Cubans free. They all burst in tears for three very long years A stranger had governed their land ; And then who can wonder with cheers loud as thunder For Roosevelt they cheered to a man. For words I am pressed his praise to express. In recording his noblest deed, When Funston explained how our flag he had stained, Aguinaldo, he then quickly freed. * * BARNHART'S ISLAND On Barnhart's Island below the long Sault, Is the summer resort known as the Fairview ; The boating is good and the fare is the best, 'Twill be found a good place for a traveler to rest. Here the great iron bridge the St. Lawrence has spanned. One hundred feet high, so majestic and grand. Now over the river the trains almost fly. And the boats far beneath them are seen sweeping by. And the hotel veranda looks out on the bay. Where 'tis pleasant to sit on a warm summer day. While the breeze from the river your brow gently fans. And you almost imagine you've reached fairy land. U3 Adirondacks grand forest so fresh and so green, And her high mountain peaks in the distance are seen, Where the wildest of freaks dame nature has played. And thousands of beautiful lakes and ponds made. The farming is done in the very best style, And the fruit is delicious that grows on this isle ; While the flocks and the herds on the pastures so green. And the tall waving grass in the meadows are seen. One of the best orchards upon the State chart Is found on the farm of one Harvey Barnhart; It is set out in style in thirty feet squares, So each apple can see both the sun, moon and stars. Which will put on their color so fair and so bright That these apples will sell on the market at sight. Then let all who wish to have a good time, Come down here and prove the truth of my rhyme. THE FRIEND OE MY BOYHOOD I once had a friend that was dear as a brother; With the greatest devotion we clung to each other ; Together we played; and together we slept; Together rejoiced and together we wept : A friendship like ours, you seldom will find ; 'Twas true as the needle and lasting as time. Chorus : — But to meet him again I never may hope ; He lies in his grave on the Pacific slope ; But his memory is green and it ever will be. Not only in time but in eternity. He wandered away on the wild rolling sea, Which was a great grief to his mother and me : How often we met; how often she wept; 114 How often she prayed that her boy miight be kept ; Be kept from the storm and the wild rolhng wave, Be kept from finding a watery grave. Chorus : — Three years rolled along and yet no tidings came, But still we hoped on and watched just the same ; She yearned as only a mother can yearn, And yet not a word of his fate could she learn: At length he came home and gave us great joy His mother once more embraced her boy. Chorus : When the wild bugle notes sounded forth the alarm, And the drums beat that ralHed our heroes to arms, He put on his knapsack and shouldered his gun, And marched to the front where fighting was done. He wrote to us then that he never would yield. As long as a Rebel was left in the lield. Chorus : — At Vicksburg and Corinth he met with the foe, And many a Grey Coat his rifle laid low; He staid in the field till the war was all o'er. And then he came home to his mother once more ; But away to the land of bright gold he would go And was murdered by Indians in far Idaho. Chorus : — * * * CHRIST'S STORY OF THE RICH MAN AND LAZARUS There was a rich man with plenty and more And Lazarus the beggar was laid at his door: And the beggar soon died, is the story he tells. And the rich man died, and being in hell, 115 He lifted his eyes and strange to tell, In Abraham's bosom the beggar beheld; There with the bright angels forever to dwell, And he had bright robes and seemed happy and well. Then he said, "father Abraham let Lazarus come, Put his fingers in water and cool my tongue ; For I'm in great torment in this awful place, And I am to stay here through all time and space." But Abraham said there's a deep gulf, you see, That no one can pass between you and me ; To go over to you is what can't be done, And over to us there is no one can come. ''Then please let him go and my brbothers give warning For the prophets and Moses I know they are scorning, For to ev'ry thing good they turn a deaf ear, And unless they are warn'd they are sure to come here," And now my dear reader don't let them fool you, For the story Christ told is certainly true : He told us this story to warn us, you know. To live right so into that place we won't go. * * * FIFTY YEARS AGO (Read at the fiftieth anniversary of the wedding of Richard and Calpurnia Fennimore.) Now fifty years have flown by quick, And I am growing old As well as Calpurnia and Dick For time has onward rolled. But heaven's high king has been so kind. And lengthened out their days — Preserved their bodies and their minds, For which we give him praise. Now I remember wxll the time 116 When they set out in Hfe, The wedding bells began to chime — Soon they were man and wife. With flowers their pathway soon was trewn, And joys to them soon come, The stork had to their dwelling flown And children blessed their home. Six children soon to them were given, Their happy home to bless, And four of them are now still living. And two are laid to rest. Now hand in hand for fifty years, They've traveled on together. They've had their joys and griefs and tears, Sunshine and rainy weather. For many years may they enjoy, The home their labor won. And reach a heaven without alloy When with this life they're done. H? H< * THE OLD MAN'S DREAM The old man sat in his old arm chair, With his grandchild on his knee, And he gazed with pride on her silken hair. And her face so full of glee. And his thought's went wandering back for years, O'er the past to his childhood days. And once again he imagines he hears His brothers and sisters at play. It was then that his heart was light and free. And the future to him looked so bright, Not a cloud in his future sky could he see. Nor a sign of decay or of Wight, As he wandered away in this cold, heartless world, 117 Where the battle of hfe he must fight, As into the whirlpool of time he was hurled To battle for God and the right. He saw in his dream the wife of his youth, He had chosen from all that he knew To share all his joys and griefs in truth. To do what no other could do ; And the dear little children that came to his home, Making home what a home should be, But oh, cruel death, how quickly it come, And carried away two or three ; Oh, how dreary the world had seemed to him then ; When his heart strings were bleeding and torn, He turned to the Saviour, mortals best friend, And leaned on him weary and worn. He awoke, 'twas a dream, a frightful dream, In which he had lived his life o'er ; Though each of the tableaux reality seemed; As real as they'd been before. * * * THE SIGNS OF THE TIMES * * * (September lo, 1913.) Can it be the great day of all days is approaching. When the world from its orbit is hurled. And that long, long eternity can we be broaching. When the parchment of time is unfurled? Foretold by God's prophets, the earthquakes have come, San Francisco has met with her doom, Valparaiso comes next where great damage is done ; Now, Kingston, Jamaica entombed. Now, what will come next, no man can foretell. Unless he's a prophet, that's sure ; The present subtract from the past, do it well, 118 And no answer on earth can be truer. Another large city will soon topple down, And jump around Hght as a cork; It may be Chicago or some other town, But I fear for our Greater New York. Oh, that great wicked city where skyscrapers tower So high o'er the cities around; You've been weighed in the balance by a higher power, And I tremble lest wanting you're found. Now Sunday excursions your railroads have planned To draw many people away From the places of worship throughout the whole land. And their trains they now run ev'ry day. Now evil prevails the whole length of your streets. And with trusts and with graft you've gone wild. The poor man's bread, the rich man eats And your starving his poor wife and child. It is plain to be seen that you will not repent. As Nineveh did once of old. But on to destruction I see you are bent. For you're trusting your blind gods of gold. God's Bible is true and we know it is too. For each day its truths come to pass. He says dust we are, to both me and you. And to dust we'll return at the last. To the ocean, he said I have set bars and doors, And these bounds you never can pass. Though rivers of water pour in from its shores. Its maker, obeys first and last. Oh, that Almighty God, who created the world. And is guiding it now with His hand. If we do his will on bright wings we'll be whirled And on that bright shore we shall land. 119 SPRING, SUMMER AND AUTUMN The spring swoop'd down on the sleeping earth, With her snow clad hills and plains, Whose streams had ceased their babbling mirth, Bound fast their icy chains. She breathed on the earth with her warm young breath And the snow quickly melted away, And the streams that were ice bound and silent as death From hill top to valley now play. Her twin sister, summer, now comes to her aid, And takes up the work she's begun. And though the foundations have mostly been laid. Yet a great deal remains to be done; For they must be warmed and be watered and fed, And be clothed with the evergreen hue. And the fruit must be set in the flower's stead And wet with the morning dew. Now autumn comes in to finish the plan. Her sisters have laid out so plain. To color and polish the fruit of the land, And to ripen the tall waving grain ; She fullv rewards all of those who have worked, And their bins filled with fruit and with grain. While the shiftless and lazy and all those who shirk, To such there is nothing remains. SENATOR HOAR We lower the flag, and tears fill our eyes. When America's noblest Senator dies, Who always has battled for justice and right, For which his own party he sometimes would fight. He always displayed moral courage so grand, 120 That all parties honored this grand, grand old man. Oh, would that our country had just a few more, Who would stand up for right like Senator Hoar. Once more we could look for the grand old days When our senators' wisdom the whole world praised. There was no Roman senator ever loved more. Than old Massachusetts loved Senator Hoar. And even Old Glory for him seems to mourn. As it hangs at half mast so limp and forlorn ; And though in the grave his body may mould, Here's written his name in letters of gold. Which are lead in the rock and through all time will stand As one who opposed the oppression of man ; His standard of right he held with such power. That no one was able that standard to lower. 'Tis said he descended from New England stock. And he stood against wrong as firm as a rock. For slavery and serfdom he always abhorred And for freedom and right he oft drew his sword. And he struck right and left regardless of party Determined Old Glory they never should barter. And that never again over serfs and o'er slaves Her beautiful folds with blood stains should wave. He stood on the floor like a venerable oak. And the senate was silent whenever he spoke ;, And when again on the floor we shall meet We shall look with regret on the now vacant seat. Which so long has been filled by George Frisbie Hoar Whose equal we fear will fill it no more : In peace let him rest, he's fought the good fight. And a crown now awaits him in that world of light. 121 MY NAME (Sent to the U. S. Postmaster General.) I see you spell my name with ''U", But that I'm sure will never do; For you may search all through our town And no such person can be found, Instead just spell it with an "A" And you can find me any day; I fear 'twill prove a bad mistake, So this correction now please make. (Written in Berdia Wells Autograph Album.) Now Berdia when these lines you see Remember they were penned by me ; I wish you happiness through life. And when you're done with earthly strife, With me your angel mother greet. And walk with us the golden street. TAMMANY HALL The blackest place in all the land Is known as Tammany Hall ; Where old boss Tweed once held command Of demons great and small, Who came and went out at his will ; With trouble then our state was filled. But he soon met with a just fate. And paid the debt at a full rate; But now boss Murphy's took his place ; His will you must obey, Or with his imps he'll make you limp. And impeach you any day. 122 Oh, what a shame and a disgrace; Our goddess wants to hide her face, As she looks down upon the scene That's going on behind the screen, By orders of one old Boss Murphy Whose record always looks so scurvey Oh, that the people would rise up And disenthrone this wily pup ; With Satan then he'd surely go. And howl in everlasting woe. When Satan takes him down to hell, Things with our state then will go well. ON THE DEATH OF JULIA CLARK CRARY, WIFE OF GEORGE LUCIAN CRARY Into the great beyond she's passed; Her race of life is run. And she has reached her home at last; O'er death the victory won. She's gone from whence; none e'er return. And where we all must go To meet our friends our hearts may yearn. Our time we cannot know. For seventy years she braved the storms Of life with courage true ; With kindness ev'ry heart was warmed, That met her ; all she knew. Friend, she was a friend indeed; A friend to all in trouble ; And if a little help they need J She always gave them double. She worked and toiled from morn till night. And gave herself no rest; '■ ^ 123 To bring her little ones upright She did her very best. No better mother ever lived, Or one that would do more; Her children best of care she give Their mother they adore. Her children mourn with me her loss As we review the past; Now on the wings of time I'm tossed, My home's broke up at last. I look back on the happy past, When 'round the family hearth. At evening all were home at last, And all was joy and mirth. 'Twas then we sung the happy songs. That banished toil and pain; Would I could meet that happy throng And sing those songs again. My only hope is now to strive To meet this throng above; Then with the angels I shall live. And sing redeeming love. CANTON VILLAGE Now, Canton is our County seat Where all our Supervisors meet, A noble set of men they are, And of our county take good care — It is to Governor Silas Wright That Canton owes she got the site For Court House and our county gaol, Only for him we'd surely failed. 124 For he took iron bar and sledge And with the boys went on the ledge ; 'Twas there he help'd to quarry stone, And staid until the work was done. He thus secured the count}^ seat, All opposition met defeat — To him we owe greatest respect And now with flowers his grave we'll deck. Now of our village we are proud, There's none can show a liklier crowd, . For students now parade our streets, With lovely girls, rosy and sweet. From ev'ry county in the states. They come to learn and graduate ; And if a young man needs a wife, Here is the best chance of his life. Miss Lena Bray learns them to cook. Something you schould not overlook. They learn to cook all kinds of food. And no hotel can show as good. And now our schools are something grand. And not surpassed in all the land. Now at our Dean just take a look For he's a very curious cook ; He's managed things with tact and skill; Fine buildings now grace College Hill, He certainlly has done his share To get the buildings put up there. And there's Professor Payson, too. Has done all any man could do To raise our village reputation. To give young men an education. Professor Gunnison ain't slow When he goes out to get the dough; He gathered mone}^ like a sack. And money now our schools don't lack And Sheahan farms and hustles 'round, 125 And learns the boys to till the ground, 'Tis here they learn all kinds of work, And no one is allowed to shirk. Now if you come you'll learn the rest. And find our schools the very best To fit you for life's fearful race, And help you gain the highest place, For education will help you To do what no one else can do, For you know then what you're about And never hesitate or doubt. ^ ^ * CRARY'S ORCHARD On the Pierrepont hills a fine orchard stands Where one hundred and twenty kinds vary In color and flavor and always command The highest price when shipped by Crary: In the picture you'll see a four year old tree Loaded down with the choicest of fruit, And no imperfections on them can you see Now this is a fact no one can dispute. What a wonderful God who created the trees With such varied and beautiful fruit, The grand tree of life could create with great ease Though atheist and idiots dispute. Now they must be sprayed and given some care. Then your cofifers with gold they will fill ; For if you will give them a reasonable share Of your time they will double your bill. PERRY'S VICTORY ON LAKE ERIE In eighteen hundred and thirteen Near Put-in-Bay might have been seen 126 A young man on Lake Erie's shore To history unknown before — And- with a gallant chosen few The trees for ships begin to hew; And in a marvelous short time They had five ships with four just nine. To meet the British fleet so fine September tenth that fateful date Upon which hung a nation's fate, This little fleet pushed out from land — With brave and noble men she's manned; While at the masthead hung a slip That said "Boys don't give up the ship." And soon the British fleet they sight And clear their decks ready to fight. The British fleet soon made a rush, Resolved the flagship now to crush. Then broadside after broadside sweeps — Her decks with human blood now weeps ; With dead and dying scattered 'round 'Twas evident she must go down. Undaunted still now Perry takes An open boat and ofif he makes — To the Niagara now he sped, Holding Old Glory o'er his head. The British guns on him were turned, The water into foam was churned, But still Old Glory's staff he clasps, The bullets whistle through their caps, Not for a moment they relapse Their rowing till they reach the side Of the Niagara as she rides Upon the lake calm and serene — She proves ere night she's not so green. They soon raise Perry to her decks And for a moment he inspects. Then quick as flash his plan is laid 127 And then this signal he displayed, "Close in upon them now my boys." And then the cannon's awful noise Was echoed back from shore to shore In one unbroken constant roar. The British fieet was soon outmatched And victory from them quickly snatched, For Yankee grit had won the day, And victory's trophy borne away ; For one by one their flags they lower And Yankee ships tow them ashore. This battle with results was fraught, And to an end the war soon brought ; For from Detroit they now withdrew, With fighting Yankees nearly through. In memory of that battle great, We meet today to celebrate ; And though a century has rolled by We mean its memory shall not die. Down through the ages let it roll — By fathers to their sons be told. And thus the youth it will inspire To raise the Nation's standard higher. ^ ^ ^ THE WAR IN EUROPE (August II, 1 91 4.) Old Francis Joseph, old imbecile. Has plunged all Europe into war. But he will find that in the sequel That all the world will him abhor; And though the future's from us hidden And we may search for it in vain It now looks like an Armageddon 128 1 ^ w^^^m^w& SSi ^^^^^^1 4' '^^iM^H M *,^^^^^S^^S(^^mB^&^SjK !»iM| J''^ % 4^^ It'^ ^ fe^m"^ Kjp" ■ F? I— I