PS 3543 
 .A51 W4 
 
 1921 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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 BY 
 
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 Copyrighted By 
 
 John Thomas VanDerlip 
 
 Wakarusa, Kansas. 
 
 19 2 1 
 
 CRANE & CO. PRINTERS 
 TOPEKA. KANSAS 
 
 DEC 23 1921 
 g)Cl.A6o4764 
 

THE EDITOR 
 
 I thought I heard a fellow say 
 
 This afternoon, 
 'Our editor is going away,'* 
 "And pretty soon." 
 
 Let business men begin anew 
 
 To advertise. 
 Then all subscribers need to do 
 
 Is patronize. 
 
 He's going on a farm to plow. 
 
 It sounded queer, 
 We cannot spare the printer now. 
 
 We need him here. 
 
 He told of all that went away, 
 
 And all that came. 
 Recording every holiday. 
 
 And every game. 
 
 Six 
 
All important events and sports 
 Throughout the town, 
 
 All the church and school reports 
 He jotted down. 
 
 He told of every wedding near. 
 
 And every sale; 
 He boosted for improvements here 
 
 In Carbondale. 
 
 Our bachelors and spinsters, too. 
 
 Will miss the man. 
 Perhaps we'll have a printer new 
 
 Some baseball fan. 
 
 Seven 
 
PASSING STRANGE 
 
 There are boys and men so tight. 
 
 In summer when the catfish bite, 
 
 They dig some bait and take their flight 
 
 To Wakarusa in the night, 
 
 And by the moon's uncertain light 
 
 They fight mosquitos there. ^ 
 
 Strange it seems to us, and queer, 
 
 Individuals, even here, 
 
 Find no refreshment, fun, or cheer. 
 
 In any recreation near, 
 
 Without a cask or keg of beer. 
 
 Or bottled liquid air. 
 
 Not only here but every place 
 We daily find such is the case, 
 Natural to the human race. 
 And strange beyond compare. 
 
 Eight 
 
COUNTING THE COST 
 
 I know a man and know him well, 
 Who lives not very far from here, 
 
 Yet still his name I dare not tell, 
 The consequences I should fear. 
 
 A gentleman pf good report, 
 Industrious and frugal too, 
 
 Fond of mirth provoking sport, 
 
 Upright and honest, handsome too. 
 
 Men say, "He's older than he looks," 
 A bachelor, they say, in years, 
 
 Still fond of company and books, 
 And of the ladies, bless the dears. 
 
 He seems as happy as a lark, 
 
 And whistles when at work, 'tis said, 
 
 We often hear his friends remark. 
 We wonder why he does not wed. 
 
 Nine 
 
I called to visit him today, 
 
 And found him writing, quite alone, 
 And all I heard the fellow say, 
 
 Is still a secret of my own. 
 
 And in the name of common sense, 
 The man was talking of a wife, 
 
 And vainly counting the expense 
 And prospects of a married life. 
 
 The man supposed himself alone, 
 
 And quite aloud the words he spoke. 
 
 With many a sigh and many a groan. 
 Like one who cannot take a joke. 
 
 As one by one I heard him call. 
 It sounded like a bill of fare, 
 
 And long before he wrote it all, 
 
 I thought I heard the fellow swear. 
 
 Ten 
 
And talking to himself aloud, 
 He said, Til marry one that's poor, 
 
 For one that's wealthy, fair and proud 
 My company cannot endure. 
 
 Perhaps I'd better count the cost 
 Of boarding for I cannot batch. 
 
 And figure what I've gained and lost, 
 Before I try to strike a match. 
 
 While some are high and some are low, 
 Whatever the expense may be, 
 
 No boarding houses that I know 
 Can ever seem like home to me. 
 
 Perhaps I'd better sell my land 
 Or in advance collect the rents. 
 
 For all the cash I have on hand 
 Will fail to cover the expense. 
 
 Eleven 
 
To furnish my good hoiise in town, 
 The items fill me with surprise, 
 
 As I proceed to jot them down, 
 I scarcely can believe my eyes. 
 
 So many things I call to mind, 
 Of woodenware, I count a score, 
 
 Nor have I counted all, I find 
 
 There still are twice as many more. 
 
 Of cutlery and hardware store 
 
 Again the list is doubled up. 
 Of queensw^are, half as many more 
 
 From sugar-bowl to mustache cup. 
 
 Now come the pictures, books and games, 
 And yet I have not counted half. 
 
 There's bric-a-brac and picture frames, 
 An organ and a phonograph. 
 
 Tivelve 
 
An eight-day clock, a mirror, too, 
 Blanket, quilt and pillow case. 
 
 All must be as good as new. 
 And every article in place. 
 
 Carpets, curtains, cushions, rugs. 
 
 Tables, benches, chairs and stools, 
 
 Pans and buckets, jars and jugs. 
 Lawn mower and garden tools. 
 
 Towel, napkins, tablespread, 
 
 Cupboard, safe and kitchen range. 
 
 Sofa, lounge and folding bed. 
 
 Swings and hammocks for a change. 
 
 Enough! I am not married yet; 
 
 And I have figured up the cost 
 Would plunge me deeply into debt; 
 
 I'd rather be alone — and lost. 
 
 Thirteen 
 
"Yet still I cannot quite decide, 
 I cannot bear to be alone, 
 
 It shocks my vanity and pride," 
 
 Again 1 thought I heard him groan. 
 
 Again I thought I heard him swear 
 And mutter as he paced the floor, 
 
 I'll court some lady rich and fair. 
 Or be a bachelor evermore. 
 
 Again the fellow took a seat. 
 
 Jotting a few more figures down; 
 Then like a speculator, beat, 
 
 Upon his face there came a frown. 
 
 And then I saw the fellow rise 
 And place his hat upon his head, 
 "Perhaps I'd better advertise 
 
 For one to share my lot," he said. 
 
 Fourteen 
 
And then he lighted a cigar, 
 
 And loudly to himself he spoke, 
 "Advertise in the Morning Star, 
 And be the victim of a joke." 
 
 And, stepping to the telephone, 
 
 He called the printer of the Star; 
 
 'Hello, old boy! I'm here alone. 
 Coming down on a trolley car." 
 
 Men say that figures never lie. 
 Yet many never cipher out, 
 
 Nor understand the reason why 
 
 Those single live in fear and doubt. 
 
 And when a match is made in haste. 
 Be sure he did not count the cost, 
 
 In such extravagance and waste. 
 Many a reckless man is lost. 
 
 Fifteen 
 
DAD 
 
 You ask me to propose a health, 
 Here's a new one for you, lad, 
 
 Apply to proverty or wealth. 
 
 Here's to the good health of Dad ! 
 
 When poets chant and sing of Dad 
 In language like a vulgar roast, 
 
 Such I consider all too bad ! 
 So I propose this jolly toast. 
 
 I speak of your old Dad, and mine, 
 Frequently I think of Dad 
 
 Requiring us to toe the line, 
 Whipping us when very bad. 
 
 For all he punished you and I, 
 We deserved it, acting bad, 
 
 WeVe glad he did not pass it by. 
 Heaven bless our dear old Dad. 
 
 Sixteen 
 
Choice of all I ever met. 
 
 North and south and east and west, 
 Dad's my chum and crony yet, 
 
 I consider Dad the best. 
 
 Whatever work we had to do, 
 
 Dad would always show us how. 
 
 Encourage us and help us, too. 
 In the field to hoe and plow. 
 
 Toiling with us, making hay. 
 Ever striving us to please, 
 
 Gladly joining us at play. 
 Teaching us our A. B. C's. 
 
 Our home was on a thrifty farm. 
 Kind to Mother, too, was Dad, 
 
 Protecting all of us from harm, 
 Cheering us when sick or sad. 
 
 Seventeen 
 
Running with us girls and boys 
 To row a boat or fly a kite, 
 
 Making for us pretty toys, 
 
 Guarding o'er us day and night. 
 
 A good provider, too, was Dad, 
 
 Doing for us all he could. 
 Sharing with us all he had. 
 
 Diligently doing good. 
 
 The stock he owned were fat and fine 
 We've never seen their equal yet. 
 
 Sheep, cattle, horses, fowls and swine, 
 And every animal a pet. 
 
 When I was just about your age, 
 
 Feeling big enough to bust, 
 I thought my home a dismal cage, 
 Then I caught the wanderlust. 
 
 Eighteen 
 
Since then I've traveled far and wide, 
 
 Over prairie, hill and plain, 
 And far beyond the Great Divide 
 
 I have sowed Wild Oats in vain. 
 
 Meanwhile, that good old Dad of mine, 
 Blest with courage, strength and health. 
 
 Labored hard in rain or shine, 
 Adding yearly to our wealth. 
 
 In civil war, a volunteer, 
 
 Marching to our country's call, 
 
 With cash and tidings full of cheer, 
 Dad provided for us all. 
 
 Courageously he played his part 
 With our country's flag at stake, 
 
 Yet still he was so good at heart. 
 Seldom would he kill a snake. 
 
 Nineteen 
 
Upright and honest, speaking plain, 
 Always called a spade a spade, 
 
 So gallant, some would call him vain, 
 Dad was always on parade. 
 
 Your Dad was just as good as mine, 
 Perhaps he was as brave and strong; 
 
 Then roast no more, but toast the man. 
 And sing aloud your boasting song. 
 
 Twenty 
 
WEST SIDE 
 
 Landlady of the West Side House, 
 
 A tribute of respect to you; 
 May I regard your ladyship 
 A friend among a chosen fe'w? 
 
 Far from the noise and smoke of town 
 'Mid rural scenes, I love to roam. 
 
 And I enjoy the rustic air 
 
 Of your delightful rural home. 
 
 Fair is the view at early morn 
 Of sunrise on a prairie land, 
 
 O'er grass and flowers growing w^ild. 
 No sight in town is half so grand. 
 
 The cars from town bring passengers. 
 Who gladly would thy freedom share, 
 
 They come to rusticate and breathe 
 The pure and free wild prairie air. 
 
 Twenty-one 
 
Your little boy may frolic here, 
 And chase the butterfly about, 
 
 Nor be a prisoner of the house 
 Afraid to laugh aloud or shout. 
 
 Upon the lawn are beds of flowers. 
 Flowering shrubs and leafy trees, 
 
 Tangled vines and shady bowers. 
 Singing birds and busy bees. 
 
 Each boarder at the West Side House 
 Enjoys the blessing of good health, 
 
 We envy not the city style. 
 
 Nor covet city men their wealth. 
 
 From Nature look to Nature's God, 
 
 Let prayer with thankfulness abound, 
 
 Praise the Lord for thy pleasant home. 
 And all the beauties that surround. 
 
 Twenty -two 
 
AT COLLEGE 
 
 Dear brother, while attending college. 
 
 Be still devoted to the Lordi; 
 There is no other given knowledge 
 
 Like that imparted in His Word. 
 
 The elements of education 
 
 Your study and your time involve. 
 Yield not to evil inclination. 
 
 Nor break a single good resolve. 
 
 May you engage in no transaction 
 You cannot ask the Lord to bless. 
 
 Nor yield to any given faction 
 
 That makes you love your Saviour less. 
 
 With true devoted faith in Heaven, 
 The waves of sorrow roll away. 
 
 And darkest clouds of doubt are riven 
 Emitting light in full array. 
 
 Twenty-three 
 
PRAYER 
 
 Sweet converse with a friend. 
 When thoughts and feelings blend, 
 
 Will calm our thoughts of strife, 
 And sinful thoughts we quell. 
 When with the good we dwell. 
 
 And lead a righteous life. 
 
 While we in our pride 
 Through difficulties glide, 
 
 And many dangers dare; 
 Truly I believe 
 Blessings we receive 
 
 By earnest fervent prayer. 
 
 Those who love the Lord, 
 And heed His Holy Word, 
 
 Do not neglect to pray, 
 Let me in my youth 
 Listen to the truth, 
 
 And walk in wisdom's way. 
 
 Twenty- four 
 
MARGUERITE 
 
 Pansies, we can read your thoughts today, 
 While we search a name to rhyme with 
 sweet, 
 Could you speak, I know that you would 
 say, 
 "The only name will rhyme is Margue- 
 rite." 
 
 Roses, we may speak aloud to you, 
 Marguerite is six years old today, 
 
 To her party you're invited, too. 
 Help to decorate the parlor gay. 
 
 Sweet William ! Listen to a whisper low, 
 You may come just looking as you are, 
 
 Because the little children love you so. 
 Come and twinkle, twinkle little star. 
 
 Your playmates now are coming, Margue- 
 rite, 
 This will be a bright and sunny day. 
 All are gay and happy, clean and sweet. 
 You may have a jolly time at play. 
 
 Twenty-five 
 
EYES 
 
 liriU^iL 
 
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OUT WEST 
 
 A farmer boy in Kansas state, 
 Has written once or twice, 
 
 Whether or not to emigrate, 
 Requesting my advice. 
 
 This is an arid, desert state, 
 
 And rocky, I declare! 
 Where they fail to irrigate, 
 
 The land is simply bare. 
 
 I've seen the mountains of the West 
 I've seen the desert land, 
 
 I like the rolling prairie best. 
 And deem it just as grand. 
 
 I loved the free, wild mountain air, 
 
 But not the horned toad, 
 The rattlesnake or prickly pear 
 
 That haunted my abode. 
 
 Twenty-eight 
 
Upon a bed of gunny bags 
 
 Out on a ranch I slept, 
 Silently among the rags. 
 
 Sand lizards 'round me crept. 
 
 Awakened by the coyote's yelp, 
 
 Or by the burro's bray, 
 The hungry mountain lion's whelp, 
 
 Or prairie dogs at play. 
 
 Stay with your cattle, hogs and corn. 
 You have your job down pat. 
 
 Nor wish that you had ne'er been born, 
 Just stay where you are at. 
 
 You live upon the upper shelf, 
 With corn to sell next Fall, 
 
 So then brace up and count yourself. 
 Lucky to be born at all. 
 
 Twenty-nine 
 
THE TIGHTWAD 
 
 The Tightwad leans upon his staff. 
 
 He's growing old, 
 And w^orships still the Golden Calf, 
 
 His idol's gold. 
 
 We wonder why he worships thus, 
 
 From day to day, 
 Like other men, the stingy cuss. 
 
 Will fade away. 
 
 No heathen in benighted lands, 
 That worship snakes. 
 
 Or idols with uplifted hands. 
 Make w^orse mistakes. 
 
 Then why not spend our money free 
 
 While we are here, 
 And exercise our charity. 
 
 With goodly cheer. 
 
 Thirty 
 
LEFT 
 
 In a crowded car on the Santa Fe, 
 
 I leisurely paced the aisle. 
 Trying vainly to find a vacant seat, 
 
 I journeyed many a mile. 
 
 Then pausing where sat a lady and child 
 
 Near the center of the car, 
 "Here is room for you," the lady said, 
 
 "Are you going very far?" 
 
 I am on a long journey, thank you, ma'am, 
 
 Weary, and now I can rest, 
 "I am on a long journey, too," she said, 
 
 "I am going away out West." 
 
 "This seat will serve for us three little ones, 
 
 We are not crowded, you see, 
 I have been so lonesome this afternoon. 
 
 For all are strangers to me." 
 
 "We brought a nice little basket of lunch 
 
 From Kansas City today. 
 You are welcome to a liberal share, 
 
 There's plenty to give away." 
 
 Thirty-07ie 
 
The shortest route to the heart of a man 
 
 Is by way of his appetite, 
 Perhaps this lady has won my love, 
 
 For I am hungry tonight. 
 
 Sandwich, doughnuts, apples and buns. 
 
 Candy, and honey and pie, 
 Only three for a basket full, 
 
 Lady and baby, and I. 
 
 1 thank the lady and kiss her child. 
 
 Lucky man that I am, 
 Brakeman hurries to stop the train. 
 
 Shuts the door with a slam. 
 
 We hear the conductor loudly cry 
 The name of a western town, 
 
 "Twenty minutes for supper," he said. 
 And left us there with a frown. 
 
 Thirty-two 
 
"Union depot," the conductor cries, 
 
 And now we see him again, 
 "Change cars for south and west, 
 
 This is a Denver train.** 
 
 Out of the window we see a crowd 
 Of hackmen, porters and boys. 
 
 Roughly jostling each other about. 
 Amid the music and noise. 
 
 "Right this way for the City Hotel," 
 "Omnibus," "carriage" and "car," 
 
 "Check your baggage,** "shine your boots,** 
 "Evening Journal" and "Star.** 
 
 Let them jostle each other about, 
 
 I am contented to stay 
 In the car with the lady and child, 
 
 Laughing and chatting so gay. 
 
 Thirty-three 
 
"There's a coffee house," the lady said, 
 "Please watch my baby a while; 
 
 A cup of coffee will keep me awake," 
 She left us there with a smile. 
 
 "Be good, my darling, I know you will, 
 And with this gentleman stay." 
 
 A kiss for the child, a bow for me, 
 And quickly she hurried away. 
 
 A little girl of four summers or five, 
 
 Fair as a child could be. 
 Pretty and jolly, sparkling with mirth, 
 
 Left in the care of me. 
 
 Me, a bachelor, alone in the world, 
 With no companion or mate, 
 
 What if her mother should not return? 
 What would determine her fate? 
 
 Thirty-four 
 
Some of the passengers near us inquired 
 
 If I were a married man, 
 And in case I should fail in that attempt 
 Some asked what I would do, I replied, 
 
 ''I will do the best I can." 
 
 "And if her mother should not return, 
 
 I will try to find her Pa, 
 And in case I should fail in that attempt, 
 
 ril find her another Ma." 
 
 "Hurrah for you," a gentleman said, 
 "Young man I admire your pluck! 
 
 If you get left with a girl like that. 
 Consider yourself in luck." 
 
 *An aboard," we hear the conductor shout. 
 Our twenty minutes are past. 
 
 We hear the engine whistle, "off brakes," 
 Our train is moving too fast. 
 
 Thirty-five 
 
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The following train, a section of ours, 
 Was but twenty minutes late, 
 
 And the generous master had said 
 He would have our section wait. 
 
 The lady came on the following train. 
 Her child was laughing with glee. 
 
 We had travMed more than a hundred 
 miles, 
 Somebody's darling and me. 
 
 "Dear Mamma," she said, "we knew you 
 would come. 
 You left your satchel and fan. 
 And I thought you would not leave me 
 alone 
 All night, with this funny man." 
 
 The lady thanked me for what I had done. 
 And kissed her sweet little child, 
 
 I told her that I was a bachelor. 
 But she was married, she smiled. 
 
 Thirty-eight 
 
She told me where she was going to live, 
 
 Requesting a visit, or call; 
 I cannot tell you all that she said, 
 
 I do not remember it all. 
 
 We met her husband the following day, 
 
 Who has an excellent w^ife; 
 She has an excellent husband, too, 
 
 I wish them a happy life. 
 
 Thirty-nine 
 
SUNNYSIDE 
 
 At Sunnyside, my homestead, 
 In a cottage built of stone, 
 
 On South Dakota prairie, 
 I am keeping house alone. 
 
 While I am very lonesome here. 
 With nothing much to do, 
 
 No company but Rover; 
 Rover is lonesome, too. 
 
 My Esquimaux companion. 
 
 Like a savage, loves the chase, 
 
 Wild game is quite abundant. 
 And he often has a race. 
 
 I feed him good and plenty. 
 
 He is greedy as a hog. 
 His appetite was with him 
 
 When he ate a prairie dog. 
 
 Forty 
 
That vagabond, the coyote, 
 Very often lurks around, 
 
 And where the ground is rocky 
 Ugly rattlesnakes abound. 
 
 This vast expanse of prairie, 
 
 Since the 'white man settled here, 
 
 Is made a land of plenty 
 By the sturdy pioneer. 
 
 The railroad locomotive. 
 And the tiller of the soil 
 
 Are on the reservation 
 With implements of toil. 
 
 A homestead on the Rosebud 
 Is property good to keep; 
 
 The land is quite productive, 
 The soil is rich and deep. 
 
 Forty-one 
 
Buffalo grass and bluestem 
 Deck the hill and valley o'er, 
 
 And over all the prairie 
 
 Pretty roses bloom galore. 
 
 The grouse and prairie chicken^ 
 The quail and meadow-lark, 
 
 May all be heard in summer 
 From dawn of day to dark. 
 
 I will cease complaining, 
 
 My dog is scolding me, 
 We may not be so lonesome 
 
 When the good Lord sets us free. 
 
 Forty-two 
 
LADIES' AID 
 
 When I received an order to rustle. 
 Earn a dollar for Ladies' Aid, 
 
 My husband offered to help me hustle, 
 Soon our plans w^ere neatly made. 
 
 Luckily no one came to meddle; 
 
 I baked some cookies, fresh and light, 
 And sent my husband out to peddle. 
 
 Now we have the dollar all right. 
 
 To please the man before he started 
 I gave him half a dozen to eat. 
 
 He promised me before we parted. 
 
 To collect full price, and not to cheat. 
 
 Forty-three 
 
The sun was shining, the birds were singings 
 
 High overhead in the maple tree; 
 The bell in the schoolhouse tower ringing, 
 Never sounded more sweet to me. 
 
 He wore a cap, for the wind was blowing, 
 And overshoes, for the mud was deep, 
 
 I blest the man as I saw him going; 
 He did not sell my cookies cheap. 
 
 Forty 'four 
 
REVERIE 
 
 Alone tonight In my kitchen, 
 
 Lazily poking the fire, 
 A bachelor, frigid and weary. 
 
 Smoking a quiet cigar. 
 
 Reveries rise with smoke wreaths; 
 
 Thoughts and memories jingle, 
 And I see in a vision, 
 
 Ladies, married and single. 
 
 Lucretia married a merchant, 
 Matilda married a clerk. 
 
 And they tell me Susan married 
 A man too lazy to work. 
 
 Julia married an artist. 
 
 They are on a wedding tour east, 
 And Ruth lives in a mansion, 
 
 I attended the wedding feast. 
 
 Forty-five 
 
Louisa went to the city 
 
 To learn the milliner's trade, 
 
 And Harriet lives with her sister. 
 Destined to be an old maid. 
 
 Edith and Alice and Charlotte, 
 
 Amanda, Olive and Rose, 
 Charmed by the lure of the footlights 
 
 Are traveling now with the shows. 
 
 Mary is now in a convent. 
 
 She's worth her weight in gold, 
 
 And Sadie married a farmer. 
 She's a widow now, I'm told. 
 
 I will light another cigar 
 
 To finish my reverie, 
 Vm a happier man by far 
 
 Than e'er I expected to be. 
 
 Forty-six 
 
DRIFTING 
 
 Time like a stream is flowing, 
 The spring has come and gone; 
 
 The summer, too, is going, 
 Autumn is coming on. 
 
 We cannot tell the reason, 
 
 Sometimes we think it strange. 
 
 We gladly hail each season, 
 As constantly they change. 
 
 And like the seasons, shifting. 
 The men of every clime 
 
 Still constantly are drifting 
 Upon the wings of time. 
 
 Then let us be more careful 
 The present to employ, 
 
 Thankful as well as prayerful 
 For all that we enjoy. 
 
 Forty-seven 
 
SENTIMENTAL 
 
 *'Ha$t thou numbered all the birds of 
 the wood, 
 
 Without a gun ? 
 Hast thou loved the wild rose, 
 
 And left it on its stalk? 
 Oh, be my friend and teach me to be 
 thine." 
 
 — Emerson. 
 Foreword: The following sentiment, ut- 
 tered sincerely, albeit with trepidation, is a 
 parody that will be appreciated only by in- 
 dividuals endowed with sympathy. 
 
 Hast thou hunted without a gun, 
 
 A wild bird? 
 And in thy quest found her nest, 
 And left it undisturbed, and free? 
 Hast thou loved and caressed 
 
 A wild rose? 
 And left it on the bush for me to see? 
 Then I love thee I I say. 
 And would cheer thee, and stay, 
 And be near thee alway. 
 Fort^f-eight 
 
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