HALF 
 
 THREE SCORE YEARS 
 
 AND TEN 
 
Class _^S^^j^_ 
 
 COPnUGHT DEPOSm 
 
" (I 
 
 HALF 
 THREE SCORE YEARS 
 
 AND TEN 
 
 By FORGET-ME-NOT 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 THE ROXBURGH PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 INC. 
 

 \ 
 
 f^^ 
 
 Copyright 1918 
 
 By ANNIE G. GORGAS 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 DEC :■>£, i9i8 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Very late one night, close to the midnight 
 hour, I was sitting in a large, comfortable 
 arm-chair with my head thrown back in a 
 sleeping position. It had been my desire for 
 some time past to use my pencil for the 
 public use, in order to exert a moral in- 
 fluence upon the world. 
 
 Recently, having attended the last sad but 
 beautifully extended rites to a dear departed 
 friend, the words, "Man's Life on This Earth 
 is Three Score Years and Ten," kept re- 
 peating themselves again and again to me, 
 as I thoughtfully wended my way home 
 that afternoon. Awaking from my drowsi- 
 ness on the night above mentioned, I deter- 
 mined to write the story of the life of a 
 young woman, now at the age of "Half of 
 Three Score Years and Ten." 
 
 As a little child, she was a next-door 
 neighbor of mine. We lived on neighbor- 
 ing streets of the same city for more than 
 thirty-five years, and I, having seen the im- 
 portant events in her life during that time, 
 shall be enabled to draw upon my imagina- 
 tion for details. It is my desire to write a 
 story as near to true life as possible. 
 
 The Author 
 
HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND 
 TEN 
 
 Chapter 1. 
 
 On one side of my home there was a very 
 pretty grove of trees, but, on the other, there 
 stood a two-story frame home, with a very 
 attractive side-yard belonging to that dwell- 
 ing. It had been vacated for some time, 
 when, one day, I noticed some newcomers 
 were taking possession. 
 
 As time passed, I became very much in- 
 terested in my neighbors. There were two 
 little figures, who, during the summer-time 
 wandered about the pretty garden. These 
 were a dear little boy and girl. A short time 
 previous to my determination to write this 
 story, I had seen a beautiful life-represen- 
 tation of the "Babes in the Woods." This 
 caused my thoughts to wander back nearly 
 thirty-five years, to a similar picture in that 
 neighboring flower-grown garden of years 
 ago. 
 
 A brave boy at the age of six, standing, 
 protectingly and lovingly, by the side of a 
 little girl a trifle younger. There was a look 
 of great love in the eyes of the little girl, 
 as she looked up at her brother. Some beau- 
 tiful, old-fashioned bleeding hearts were at- 
 tracting their notice. Our little heroine, 
 
6 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 handling them very gently, showed, in her 
 thoughtful face, great admiration for their 
 delicate beauty. A pretty grape-arbor, with 
 the bunches of grapes hanging from the 
 vines on the lattice-roof; some large peony 
 hushes, the beautiful flowers spreading their 
 pink and white petals before the admiring 
 eyes of the little children ; a very pretty 
 lawn and a strong rope-swing, all these con- 
 tributed so much to the delight of the 
 children, that they wandered about, like the 
 "Babes in the Woods," with their little souls 
 uplifted to the beauties of nature, and for- 
 getful of all else in the world. 
 
 There was a church in close proximity to 
 the home of these little children. On Sun- 
 day morning. I usually met them coming 
 back from Sunday-school. What did I see 
 on Sunday afternoon, as I passed their 
 pretty garden, taking my accustomed Sun- 
 day afternoon promenade? In a rocking- 
 chair, on the side-porch of their home, facing 
 the garden, sat the mother, with two little 
 rocking chairs pressed close to hers, and two 
 little innocent faces, listening with rapt at- 
 tention, to the reading of the pretty Sun- 
 day-school books brought home in the morn- 
 ing. Beautiful spiritual and moral lessons, 
 pouring from the lips of a devoted mother, 
 will they ever cease to bear their fruit on 
 the lives of little listeners? 
 
HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 7 
 
 Chapter 2. 
 
 Were these little folks in their own home? 
 No ; this was grandma's. Their papa was 
 away for the present. My readers, did I 
 not say, that this is to be a story as near 
 to true life as possible, but that I shall be 
 compelled to draw upon my imagination for 
 details? I am now allowing my thoughts to 
 drift. Why is not this woman, whose char- 
 acter is shown in a beautiful light, by its 
 reflection in the lives of her children, why 
 is she not in her own home, really the dear- 
 est possession in the hearts of all true wo- 
 men, who have children looking to them to 
 bring comfort and happiness into their lives? 
 I was sitting cogitating, and my experi- 
 ences in life caused my thoughts to wander 
 thus. Are there not many faults in some 
 men's and women's characters, which cause 
 a sadness, or a heart-break forever, in the 
 lives of their partners in life, whom, in the 
 high hopes of youth, they promise to cher- 
 ish, "Till death us do part?" Then again, 
 sometimes appetites, by which many allow 
 themselves to become mastered ; also, often 
 a sinful disobedience to our Lord's ten com- 
 mandments, bringing disgrace upon, and de- 
 struction to the beautiful holy family ties ; 
 once more, a perfect incapability, on the 
 man's part, to provide sufficient means for 
 his family ; in all these instances adding sick- 
 ness and misfortune, how much more should 
 
8 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 we laud the other partner in life, who takes 
 upon his or her shoulders the heavy burden 
 of eliminating as much as possible, the sad 
 results from the lives of his or her children? 
 
 A number of weeks after this little moral- 
 izing on my part, one beautiful day, I i^aw 
 a gentleman appear at the garden-gate. At 
 a glance, I could see that he was a gentle- 
 man born and bred. How the little pair in 
 the garden ran to meet him, and sat upon 
 his knee, caressed and fondled him. Grand- 
 ma, an elderly lady of proud bearing, was in 
 the garden, a little distance from the chil- 
 dren. She approached and shook hands with 
 the gentleman, a stranger to me, but one in 
 whom I became very much interested, on 
 account of the greeting of the children. She 
 sat down beside him on a garden bench, and 
 what seemed to be a very earnest conversa- 
 tion followed. 
 
 As it continued, I saw the little girl's face 
 grow more and more thoughtful, at last 
 amounting to a very troubled expression; for 
 grandma had gone into the house once, and 
 why did not her mama come, and go joy- 
 fully into the arms of her papa, as she had 
 done? Once more, after more earnest con- 
 versation, grandma arose and entered the 
 house. After a space of ten minutes, she re- 
 turned and the gentleman, bidding the chil- 
 dren wait in the garden, entered the home. 
 
half three score years and ten 9 
 Chapter 3. 
 
 Winter soon put its cold mantle over all 
 the beauties of the garden, at which, during 
 the lovely summer-time, my gaze so often 
 wandered, especially, decorated, as it so often 
 had been, by human life, in the shape of two 
 innocent little souls, drinking in its beauties. 
 Ere she had dismantled it, the little family, 
 so interesting to me, had left grandma's 
 home, to form, once more, one of their own. 
 During the winter, I became acquainted with 
 the mother, and so learned that several 
 homes had been formed, but, just as often 
 relinquished. This, now, was, by compul- 
 sion, to be more simple than former ones. 
 Often did I visit this little home, as the 
 years rolled by, and much did I see to in- 
 terest me. 
 
 How happy the look of the mother on my 
 first visit! Anchored! As the ship out 
 at sea! As I sat and talked with her dur- 
 ing that winter, our little heroine often sat 
 at the other end of the room, seemingly 
 studying some frost-bitten window-panes. 
 She would follow with a pencil the beautiful 
 intricacies, which nature had imprinted there, 
 and then, sometimes, in one corner of the 
 window-pane, where the frost-bitten surface 
 had not so much of nature's beautiful decor- 
 ating, I would see her inscribe her name, 
 Lucille. I have not before mentioned, that 
 this little family was also composed of one 
 
10 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 older son. He was so much the senior of 
 the younger children that, during the pre- 
 vious summer, I had not often seen him, as 
 he was engaged in the various occupations 
 of later youth. 
 
 A couple of winters I visited thus, always 
 seeing the happy expression on the mother's 
 face. Then, suddenly, something happened. 
 A cloud came on the beautiful, clear blue 
 sky's surface, but, with it, as the mother 
 gazed, a very determined look came upon 
 her face. Had not many homes been formed? 
 Had they not, just so often, been dissolved 
 into thin air? This one must not thus van- 
 ish. Her children were all now at the age, 
 where a home was positively necessary to 
 their comfort and happiness. As her part- 
 ner in life was now once more, unable to 
 assist her, then it would be advisable for 
 her son to put forth extra efforts to main- 
 tain it. 
 
 Out into the world, into the busy strife, 
 at a very early age, he went. All the results 
 of his steadiness and perseverance were 
 brought to the mother for the support of the 
 home. Realizing that, in the future, his 
 father's position, as head and support of the 
 family, must be his, there were no efforts, 
 on his part, that were not put forth in the 
 bravest manner. 
 
half three score years and ten 11 
 Chapter 4. 
 
 Lucy usually had little playmates walk 
 home from school with her. But, one day, 
 a typical autumn one, a trifle hazy, a little 
 cool, the many colored autumn leaves lying 
 beneath her feet and she walking slowly, 
 dreamily, and happily, admiring nature's 
 beautiful coloring, suddenly, a little girl ac- 
 costed her. 
 
 "Lucille, your father is dead," the little 
 girl said. Lucille did not cry, nor did she 
 run home. But, with the same thoughtful, 
 troubled look, that had come to her face in 
 the garden, on that lovely summer day, she 
 very steadily and perfectly silently pursued 
 her way with her companion to her home. 
 
 Then, leaving her, she quickly entered, and 
 suddenly slipped into a chair. Her mother 
 really did not see her enter, for she was 
 pacing the floor to and fro, her head bent 
 low, a very troubled expression on her 
 brow, and, as she walked, she wrung her 
 hands. Lucille saw her oldest brother put 
 his hand on her shoulder. Something in his 
 words, which she was too young to under- 
 stand, brought a great change of expression 
 and manner to her mother. A look of ad- 
 miration and love for her son's noble char- 
 acter and, also, one of quiet resignation and 
 deep sadness unto this heavy sorrow, took 
 the place of the previously disturbed ex- 
 pression and attitude. Lucille then slipped 
 
12 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 away. The mother and son needed much 
 time for quiet consideration and thought. 
 
 Ah ! But, after all that was mortal of the 
 father had quietly been laid away at rest, and 
 the mother had time that evening to quietly 
 sit with my two little, "Babes in the Woods," 
 they laid their heads in her lap, the tears 
 flowed fast and they said, 
 
 'Tt will be so lonesome to not see him any 
 more." 
 
 Dreariness possessed them. But the mother 
 put away her own sorrow, and, with quiet 
 beautiful words, endeavored to comfort 
 them. 
 
HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 13 
 
 Chapter 5. 
 
 The next morning, life commenced anew 
 for the inmates of this Httle home. The 
 youthful support of the little family, now at 
 a very early age, but, already, having been 
 in the business world for a space of about 
 four years, felt that he had the stamina 
 necessary for this future work, thus thrust 
 upon him. The mother feeling, instinctively, 
 the confidence and nobility of her son's 
 character, and above all, as always during 
 previous periods of sorrow, trusting to her 
 Father in Heaven to help her, won the 
 strength of soul and body to maintain this 
 home for her children and herself. 
 
 As she sat with them at the fire-side 
 during the winter evenings, her thoughts so 
 often wandered to the time, when she was 
 a little girl like Lucy, sitting so close at her 
 side. At that time, she had an elderly great- 
 aunt, who had raised Lucy's grandma, and 
 who lived in the country. There she visited 
 to her great delight. So she would tell 
 Lucy. It was before our Civil War, which 
 brought about the Emancipation of Slavery 
 in our United States. Sitting dreaming, 
 talking, she saw once more the old-fashioned 
 open fire-place in the country home, the pots 
 and kettles hanging, and the cook sitting, 
 dozing, nodding before the fire. She told 
 Lucy how one cook, thus, had really fallen 
 
14 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 over the embers, and had been so injured as 
 to cause her death. 
 
 How horror-stricken Lucy felt at that 
 relation of her mother, and how silently 
 thankful, that now closed stoves are used 
 more than the open fires. 
 
 This aunt had told Lucy's mama that, in 
 her youth, she had heard the sounds of the 
 Revolution in the distance. Lucy having 
 much imaginative power, saw in her mind's 
 eye, a battle actually progressing, with the 
 soldiers dressed in the garb of the olden 
 days, knee-breeches, long coats, and three- 
 cornered hats. As the wind moaned through 
 the chimney, and the fire grew warmer and 
 brighter, Lucy thought how happy her mama 
 must have been, out in the country on a 
 large plantation, seeing the cotton-picking, 
 and having some one to tell her about the 
 days of George Washington, for it now gave 
 Lucy so much pleasure to read about them. 
 With a happy, wondering dream, Lucy sat 
 and thought about the beautiful woods, 
 which her mother described from her re- 
 membrance of them, as she walked through 
 on her way, to and from school. 
 
half three score years and ten 15 
 Chapter 6. 
 
 Lucy's mother, in this sad epoch of her 
 life, after the death of her husband, natur- 
 ally, in her periods of quiet restfulness in 
 the evenings with her family gathered about 
 her, gave way to reminiscence. Thus, as a 
 little child, Lucy lived with her mother the 
 life of her child-hood and youth. Such 
 great pleasure her mother had gained, in 
 wandering in beautiful summer weather 
 through the different parts of the plantation. 
 How enjoyable to a child, accustomed to 
 city-life ! Once more, her mother saw, with 
 Lucy, all the family and colored help assem- 
 bled at prayer each evening with their 
 missus, her great-aunt, a very elderly lady, 
 repeating the prayer. 
 
 Lucy's mother, naturally an old-fashioned 
 child, had become more and more so, on 
 account of the frequent visits to the elderly 
 lady. At last, as they were repeated again 
 and again, the good old lady, who loved her, 
 and whom she loved so well, began to wan- 
 der in the vagaries of old age, and, at times, 
 she did not know her, making Lucy's 
 mother feel very sad and bewildered at this 
 change. At last, on one always remembered 
 visit, her soul had passed to the most beau- 
 tiful realm. She left her home, and all her 
 earthly possessions to the management of one 
 daughter. After this change at this old 
 southern home, Lucy's mama had traveled 
 
16 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 with her parents very much further into the 
 southern part of our country, to form a new 
 home there. How well she remembered the 
 warm hospitality, with which her parents' 
 new friends greeted them there, and her 
 family's and her happy life in this warmth ! 
 After a few years, another change came. 
 They traveled to a large, very refined and 
 cultivated, northern city to live. The events 
 of the Civil War passed swiftly by in Lucy's 
 mama's mind. All of the colored help had 
 been freed, in the early stages of the war, 
 by the new mistress on the old plantation. 
 She was, as her mother had been, very much 
 loved by her help on the farm and about the 
 house. Some still clung to her for support 
 and help, even after full freedom had been 
 granted. We need not say confidence, but 
 love and kindness granted by one in power; 
 sometimes, nay, we may say often, they are 
 requited sadly by natures incapable of ap- 
 preciation. But if only for the sake of 
 finding a few beautiful natures let all, to 
 whom God grants power over his or her 
 fellow-creatures, make all possible use of 
 these sweet weapons. 
 
HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 17 
 
 Chapter 7. 
 
 One evening, how well Lucy remembered 
 it, this much loved mother told her, that a 
 few years before the war, she had married 
 her papa. After the war, the effect which 
 it had made upon their finances, caused them 
 to make a change of home several hundred 
 miles distance. Great financial energy, at 
 that time, was predominant in a little town 
 in the central western part of our country, 
 and, to this little town, her mama and papa, 
 with the oldest son, traveled. To the young 
 man of family then, this was the place, in 
 which to build up fallen fortunes. New set- 
 tlers, from all parts of the world, made it 
 very cosmopolitan. How different the lift, 
 to the one to which Lucy's mama had been 
 accustomed! What snow-storms our youth 
 will often brave, with a view to fortune! 
 How some work through with time and pa- 
 tience, steadiness and perseverance, into the 
 beautiful warm days and golden sunshine! 
 How some are chilled by the cold and frost, 
 and never enjoy that following warmth! 
 
 The great success of the West did not fall 
 upon this little family during the father's 
 life-time, and so, we find Lucy, our little 
 heroine, Lucille, living, not in a very hand- 
 some home, with the accompaniments of 
 riches surrounding her, but in a sweet, simple 
 little one, her whole nature imbued with her 
 mother's great love for her and the other 
 
18 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 members of the family. She had been born 
 in this Httle rude western town, a few years 
 after the family's change of residence to it. 
 During the decade of years comprising the 
 few previous to her birth, and the few fol- 
 lowing, the foundations of fortunes had been 
 laid in many families. At the expiration of 
 this term of years, Lucy's oldest brother 
 started in his business activity. For a num- 
 ber of years much success was granted to 
 him, which gradually threw its beautiful 
 glow upon the lives of all the family. Dreams 
 of love came to him, but owing to the rough 
 path before one shouldering so much re- 
 sponsibility, they never brought that happi- 
 ness of a much-loved partner in life to him. 
 The little rude western town developed 
 very quickly into an enterprising city. Un- 
 graded streets were succeeded by paved 
 graded ones. Small homes of some early 
 settlers were given up by them for hand- 
 some, well-built residences. The rapid 
 growth in population and their accumulating 
 wealth, caused very large business build- 
 ings, banks, theatres, libraries, churches, and 
 art-buildings to be erected. In this new 
 life of this city, Lucille's oldest brother's 
 youthful business activity brought more and 
 more success to him. The sweet simple 
 little home was retained, but, in it, more 
 luxuries of life were gradually brought by 
 the young man, devoting the fruits of his 
 labor to bringing more and more happiness 
 
HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 19 
 
 each day, into the life of his mother and our 
 sweet Httle "Babes in the Woods." 
 
20 half three score years and ten 
 Chapter 8. 
 
 The sweet love of young brother and 
 sister ! How interesting to encounter it ! 
 Our little ones wandered through the years 
 of youth together, at least, until within a 
 few years of Lucy's brother reaching man- 
 hood. Then that sad visitor. Death, dark, 
 foreboding, and mournful to those left to 
 grieve, but which brings, according to the 
 beautiful promises of the Bible, a far more 
 beautiful life to all those deserving and of 
 faith, that messenger called Lucy's brother. 
 This laid the foundation of a great change 
 in her future life. The mother, in her deep 
 sorrow, none the less perceiving and fear- 
 ing the sad effect upon the youth and health 
 of Lucy, planned for her to go to the scene 
 of her own youth. 
 
 Among her mother's friends and relatives 
 Lucille met with a most welcome greeting, 
 bringing cheerfulness and new scenes into 
 her life. On the first evening of her ar- 
 rival, as she entered the large salon parlor 
 of her mother's dearest friend, a young gen- 
 tleman of age similar to that of Lucille's 
 oldest and now only brother, approached with 
 extended hand and warm welcome to meet 
 her. It was a very warm evening and the 
 large room was lit only by the light from 
 the hall, shining through the opened folding 
 doors into the parlor. Lucille was much 
 pleased with this, for she felt quite travel- 
 
liALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 21 
 
 worn. She could not well distinguish the 
 face of this new friend. But his very cour- 
 teous, hospitable manner very quickly put 
 her at ease, and they were soon conversing 
 very comfortably together. 
 
 The room was really very stifling with 
 heat that evening, and Winifred asked Lu- 
 cille, and a young lady and gentleman visit- 
 ing with them that evening, to take a little 
 evening promenade. Winifred was the only 
 son, and, in fact, had always been the only 
 child of Lucille's mother's dear friend. After 
 her long travel during this warm weather, it 
 was very refreshing to Lucille to reach the 
 cooler air without, and Winifred seemed to 
 fall quite easily at her side, the other couple 
 in advance. He was very much interested 
 in her conversation about that western coun- 
 try which he had never visited. Yes. But 
 from the first moment that he had gazed 
 upon the thoughtful face of his little new 
 friend, a new feeling had sprung into his 
 life. 
 
 A sudden happiness seemed to have shot 
 into his heart, as he walked the prettily lit 
 streets of the large city that evening. "There 
 is something unfathomable and a purity about 
 her face," thought he. "She has not beauti- 
 ful clear-cut features," pursued he, "why am 
 I so interested? Then also," pursued his 
 mentor, "she is a child to me." Suddenly, 
 in her conversation, she raised her face, and 
 a light nearby threw its full reflection upon 
 
22 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 it. His mentor troubled him no more. A 
 peace seemed to enter his soul, and, with it, 
 these words, "In the eyes, the windows of 
 the soul, I see a beautiful and spiritual 
 depth." 
 
 Remember, he was not a boy, but a man, 
 a number of years Lucille's senior. Hence 
 the brown study. And, Lucille, she was yet 
 but a child in her thoughts, very much 
 pleased with her companion's courtesy, but 
 without any self-consciousness. Winifred 
 found, as he pursued his conversation, that 
 she was extremely fond of natural beauty. 
 They had found a mutual interest, and dur- 
 ing the weeks of Lucille's visit to her 
 mother's friend, it caused many beautiful 
 drives, walks, and rides on horse-back to be 
 taken through a most picturesque and ro- 
 mantic country, surrounding this old-time 
 southern city. She now saw the beautiful 
 country scenes, of which she used to dream 
 at the fire-side with her mother. Now in 
 reality, those beautiful woods were before 
 her, and at a most entrancing time of the 
 year, autumn giving the tinge of many beau- 
 tiful shades to the leaves of the fine old 
 majestic trees. 
 
 The grand old chestnut trees, some of the 
 burrs lying beneath partly split, thus showed 
 their readiness to yield their fruit. To her 
 great delight, occasionally, she caught a 
 glimpse of a deer in the distance among the 
 trees. With great pleasure Winifred watch- 
 
HALF THREE SCORE VEARS AND TEN 23 
 
 ed the beautiful light suddenly come into 
 the eyes of his youthful companion, as her 
 soul was satiated, from time to time, by 
 some special natural beauty. Then, again, 
 with equal sympathy, he saw the light as 
 quickly fade, and dreaminess and sorrow 
 take its place, caused by the soul suddenly 
 taking flight to the dear mother and home, 
 now many miles distant, and resting for a 
 few moments in the beautiful blue depths 
 above, with thoughts of that dear lost 
 brother, who had from her earliest remem- 
 brance trod the path of life with her. 
 
24 half three score years and ten 
 Chapter 9. 
 
 Lucille's heart was always filled with de- 
 light at the sight of the architecture, belong- 
 ing to the time of our colonists, resting 
 among the picturesque hills and valleys of 
 the country, which, she felt certain, must 
 have reminded the early settlers of the beau- 
 tiful English mother country. They had left 
 upon an eminence, overlooking an especial 
 verdant valley, a red brick church to which 
 Winifred took Lucille one Sunday. To her, 
 the silence of the country never seemed so 
 great as in this country church-yard, when 
 she heard it broken by the descendants of 
 those sleeping in the many graves, and high 
 red-bricked tombs with marble slabs sur- 
 mounting them. Alighting from their car- 
 riages, they tied their horses to the trunks 
 of the trees. Some had driven for several 
 miles, for the valley was of wide extent, and 
 was filled with many homes with many acres 
 surrounding. Slowly wandering through the 
 church-yard, with the hearty greetings of 
 neighbors of many years, they entered the 
 church. 
 
 On that perfect summer Sunday morning, 
 beneath the shade of a grand old tree, Lu- 
 cille stood, silently observant, while Winifred 
 fastened the horse. Then they, as the others 
 had done, walked through the paths of the 
 interesting church-yard of a hundred and 
 fifty years origin. At one side of the church, 
 
HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 25 
 
 there was a sudden descent of the eminence 
 and here, the beauty of the surrounding 
 hilly country, covered with piney and other 
 beautiful vegetation, was visible. Surely, it 
 is only natural, that Lucille entered this 
 church with more than usual solemnity, and 
 dreaminess, thinking of the many souls that 
 had worshipped at this altar. This was 
 Communion Sunday, and never before had 
 the admonition of not accepting it unless at 
 peace with all fellow-men, been so impressive 
 as here. What she had just left, the peace, 
 beauty, and perfection of all without, seemed 
 to especially demand it. 
 
 Winifred noticed the unusual silence of his 
 little new friend but he understood and at- 
 tributed it to its right cause. She had not, 
 in her native heath, seen the beauty of his- 
 torical interest mixed with the beauty of 
 nature. Winifred had passed through his 
 school-days, and through his preparation for 
 what he intended to be his life-work, which 
 he, himself, had chosen, and which he en- 
 joyed. His work, at present, however, was 
 such that there were certain hours each day, 
 which he could use for his own pleasure. 
 Lucille had not finished her school-life. She 
 was to return to it as soon as this pleasant 
 visit to her mother's friend, was terminated. 
 During Lucille's visit, lasting a month, nearly 
 every day it seemed to be according to Wini- 
 fred's courtesy and desire, to make her visit 
 a pleasant one, to spend his leisure hours 
 
26 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 with her, either in conversation, as she sat 
 on the leather cushioned window-seat of the 
 large drawing-room, in which he had first 
 met her, or in out-of-door pleasures. 
 
 On warm days she liked to sit there, with 
 the window open, giving her a view of the 
 street beneath. She had read many books of 
 worth, and took pleasure in conversing about 
 them, and was very glad to receive for her 
 entertainment, books, brought to her by 
 Winifred, out of the home library. After 
 she had left, did he miss the pensive face, 
 often so absorbed in a book, that she would 
 often not at first notice his entrance? Lucille 
 carried home with her keen appreciation of 
 her new friend's courtesy and desire for her 
 pleasure during her visit. Through his kind- 
 ness, she had seen so much that she desired 
 to see. 
 
 She would never forget the homes built 
 during the colonial days, the little window- 
 panes and many of these to every window, 
 the tall, round, thick, white stucco pillars 
 supporting the heavy roofs of the piazzas, 
 the cupolas, the top center-pieces of the 
 homes, and their oblong and square fronts. 
 Most of all to be remembered by her, were 
 the many romantic and beautiful situations 
 of these country places. Here, she saw an 
 old home situated close to a mill-race, with 
 the weeping-willows overhanging. There, 
 another, high up on a hill with a winding 
 river beneath, and sometimes, also, a forest, 
 
HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 27 
 
 close by, with its paths leading to the beau- 
 tiful stream. 
 
 Little boat-houses, she often saw, built 
 close to the water's edge. Many little out- 
 lying houses for help often surrounded the 
 old family residences, with, of course, gar- 
 dens and lawns lying between. The de- 
 serted parlors, of the old home by the mill, 
 were now filled with sacks of produce from 
 the farm. The owner of the place had left 
 many years since, and the present working 
 tenant used the old family-home for a store- 
 house. Very far from a public turn-pike, 
 was the old home, with the weeping willows 
 standing close by, as if lamenting the deser- 
 tion of the owner. A white stucco, oblong- 
 shaped, three story building, it stood, and, as 
 Lucille looked, she felt in her heart a love 
 for it, because it reminded her of the colonial 
 days of our country. 
 
28 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 Chapter 10. 
 
 October, Lucille had passed with her new 
 friends. Two weeks of that time, Winifred's 
 mother had entertained her in her country 
 home, several miles distant from the city. It 
 was at this time that Lucille had been enabled 
 to see the remote country homes, and roman- 
 tically situated church. But now the time had 
 come for her to return home. As the train 
 started to glide away from the old-time city, 
 and the country which had so much interested 
 her, she looked from the car-window to wave 
 a last adieu to Winifred and his mother, who 
 had endeavored to do all in their power to 
 make her visit a delightful one. Lucille was 
 surprised to see a look of deep regret, amount- 
 ing to sadness, upon Winifred's face. 
 
 As she traveled towards the West, through 
 our beautiful eastern country, mountainous 
 and romantic, her dreams were most happy 
 ones. For the change of scene had put her 
 health, naturally not the most robust, upon a 
 firmer basis, bringing bright thoughts of the 
 renewal of her mind's trainer, school-life. For 
 a few years, she continued in it. During this 
 time, her brother, by his natural talent, energy, 
 and steadiness of character, had developed 
 into a most successful man of business, re- 
 spected and admired by all who came in con- 
 tact with him in his work, and very much 
 loved by those at the head of his special busi- 
 ness. 
 
HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 29 
 
 Nothing in the shape of liberality from the 
 success of his work, was spared to render the 
 lives of his father's family most happy. The 
 mother went back to the scenes of her child- 
 hood, youth, and early married life, carrying 
 with her great pride in her son's early man- 
 hood and beneficence. How beautiful the 
 fruit a life given up to the efforts of making 
 others happy! Also, for many years, he was 
 a very happy man, enjoying the results of 
 his success. But, to all, many, many years of 
 life in this world. Our Father in Heaven does 
 not deem it in his great wisdom to grant. 
 Just at the time, when Lucille was about to 
 emerge from her school-life into the broader 
 field of life's experience, everything suddenly 
 grew black before her. Her brother, whom 
 she respected, admired and loved with her 
 whole heart, was suddenly stricken with a 
 severe malady. 
 
30 half three score yearig and ten 
 
 Chapter 11. 
 
 Lucille sat in the little sitting-room of the 
 home, in which she had now lived ever since 
 she was a little girl, and, at this time she 
 feared that a new stage of her existence was 
 beginning. Her school-books lay upon her 
 lap, and upon the table at her side, and, with 
 the aid of a reading-lamp, she was perusing 
 them. But, while doing so, a new idea seemed 
 to be constantly presenting itself to her. 
 "Might I not be enabled to do something in 
 the future towards my own support?" This 
 idea was dim and vague ; but, while her loved 
 brother lay in an adjoining room, really in an 
 unconscious condition from the severity of 
 his sickness, was it not natural that a feeling 
 should come to Lucille, that, sometime in the 
 future, dependence upon self might be abso- 
 lutely necessary? A few weeks before the 
 commencement of Lucille's brother's illness, 
 Winifred had decided to carry his work to 
 Lucille's native city. A great friendship and 
 love had sprung up between her brother and 
 Winifred, and, during the five weeks that he 
 lay unconscious, and with the malady which 
 daily gained headway, in spite of the efforts 
 on the part of those who loved him and took 
 the greatest interest in him, Winifred never 
 left his bed-side, except for a few hours. His 
 greatest desire was to save, if possible, for 
 Lucille and her mother this treasured brother 
 and son. 
 
HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 31 
 
 As Lucille entered the room, during the 
 fifth week of that terrible illness, and stood 
 with an almost despairing anxiety in her face, 
 Winifred, with the same look and tone, said, 
 "If I can only tide you over for a few days, 
 old fellow." Lucille never forgot these words, 
 nor the terrible sickening fear which chilled 
 her heart. Ah! How pale, what a terrible 
 worn face, instead of that bright brother of 
 five weeks before! The fever was wasting 
 him, day by day, nothing would make it loosen 
 its hold. If it would but be controlled, then 
 a chance of life might be. Lucille understood. 
 She realized that, if this did not happen in 
 two or three days, then all hope of keeping this 
 dear idolized brother with them on this earth, 
 would have to vanish from her heart. 
 
 Alas ! It was but a short time and all was 
 over. In despair, the mother and Lucille were 
 left. Providence had deemed it fit that this 
 much loved soul on this earth should take its 
 flight to that world of perfection, where no 
 such wasting away, such as his had been, nor 
 such sickening despair and grief, such as Lu- 
 cille and her mother lived through, exist. My 
 readers, I shall not dwell here long in this 
 house of grief. It wrings my heart. His 
 companions, strong, hearty men, loved him so 
 dearly, that they sobbed aloud. A life, joyful, 
 bright, helpful, always at the helm ready to do 
 for others, it had brought its own results, 
 great grief, love, and admiration from all those 
 with whom he had come in contact. "Thy 
 
32 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 will be done." It is most difficult to say, 
 truthfully. But it must, if looked on in the 
 right light, have a soothing effect. For it 
 illumines in this way, that Our Father in 
 Heaven, always Lucille's mother's comforter, 
 in His great wisdom, knows why and where- 
 for. 
 
half three score years and ten 33 
 
 Chapter 12. 
 
 Lucille had now drifted into a troubled sea. 
 Her future rocked itself in terrible uncer- 
 tainty before her. She had felt so safe with 
 that noble brother to protect her. Determina- 
 tion at once came to her, to prepare herself, 
 as quickly as possible, for some work in the 
 world. For several months, days and nights 
 were spent preparing herself for this new 
 life. Circumstances soon carried her into a 
 very small town, in which she was to carry 
 on this avocation. There were but a few 
 houses, and the most predominant object, on 
 looking at the town, was prairie. 
 
 In the spring and autumn to Lucille's eyes, 
 the town had its own sweet, simple beauty, as 
 the wild flowers, with many colors decorated 
 the fields. But how often her heart sank, 
 when she viewed the town, stripped of this 
 redeeming feature, and in its place simply 
 tall, brown grasses, or, in the winter, snow 
 covering all. The wind! It had full sweep, 
 and, in the bitter cold weather, many times 
 Lucille could scarcely wend her way to her 
 destination. 
 
 Winifred: how he loved Lucille! He was 
 unable to keep his secret from her longer. 
 Lucille never could forget his simple words. 
 But this was all so new. She had never 
 thought of it before. She would not tell him, 
 she would not say that the future would not 
 bring to him that answer, which he so longed 
 
34 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 for at once. But time, that wonderful soother 
 of great sorrows, such as Lucille's and her 
 mother's was for the dearly loved brother and 
 son, and that wonderful worker in bringing 
 a result of love, in the place of esteem and 
 confidence, must have its influence. Lucille 
 did not love her work, but success came to 
 her, on account of application and industry. 
 
HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 35 
 
 Chapter 13. 
 
 Three years have elapsed since Winifred 
 had uttered the ever treasured words of love. 
 I am sitting in a small church of beautiful 
 architecture. As the beautiful strains of the 
 wedding march begin, I turn my head to see 
 the bride advance. Yes. It is Lucille and, 
 with a smile of perfect love and confidence, 
 she is met at the altar by Winifred. It is 
 decorated with palms and simple flowers. As 
 I sit and listen to the tones of the bride, 
 through the otherwise impressive silence, such 
 is my silent prayer. "May I always hear such 
 convincing firmness from the lips of all brides, 
 in the repetition of the service which ends, till 
 Death us do part." 
 
 Shall I now leave my bride and groom 
 under an umbrella tree, with its leaves tinged 
 forever with golden sunshine? No. Just as 
 this is impossible in nature, so shall I not 
 leave them thus. But I shall continue my 
 little bit of true life, until my bride reaches the 
 age of "Half of Three Score Years and Ten." 
 I noticed particularly as the mother passed 
 through the aisle of the church, following 
 Lucille and Winifred, the very happy ex- 
 pression upon her face. As we chatted to- 
 gether one afternoon succeeding this event, I 
 detected the reason. The faithfulness and 
 devotion of Winifred to her much loved, lost 
 son during: his terrible illness, and his con- 
 stancy, always evinced towards Lucille 
 
36 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 through the years since she was but a child, 
 made her feel certain of her daughter's future 
 happiness. 
 
 As I had visited my friends the many years 
 past, so now I visited them for a number of 
 years. I saw Lucille, in her happiness with 
 her mother and husband, in their now pretty 
 and more pretentious home than the one of 
 former years. There, certainly, were not 
 many shadows upon the tree covered with the 
 golden sunshine, only those caused by the or- 
 dinary events of this world, in which perfec- 
 tion does not exist. Through the years a 
 little family gathered about the Christmas tree, 
 always lit by Grandma with more happiness 
 each year. But, this Christmas, as the snow 
 lies so pure and white over all without, and 
 the beautiful tall tree, within the large parlor, 
 brings an exclamation of delight from the 
 cheerful voices of the little folks, Lucille 
 stands sad and unable to light it, this Christ- 
 mas night. For Grandma is with her ever- 
 trusted Father in Heaven. 
 
 Winifred notices, at once, the expression 
 on his wife's face, and, advancing very quick- 
 ly to her, clasps her hand. 
 
 "Lucille," he said, "for my sake, try to not 
 live in thoughts of lonesomeness without her." 
 I have been thinking, as I have watched you 
 looking so sad, you are now at Half of Three 
 Score Years and Ten, and she reached the end 
 of the allotment of Man's Life on this Earth. 
 You have to comfort and guide you the beau- 
 
HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 37 
 
 tiful light of Half of Three Score Years and 
 Ten of mother's and child's companionship, 
 love, and experience reflected over your future 
 pathway, which we trust will be another Half 
 of Three Score Years and Ten. May that 
 light help you in the guidance of this little 
 future generation." Lucille, smiling through 
 the glistening tears gathered about the large, 
 thoughtful eyes, said with determination, "I 
 will leave these dew drops on the flowers of 
 last night. Also, it was my intention, Winifred 
 on this Christmas night, to repeat a few words 
 to you, which have helped me of late, when 
 my head has been hot with the fever of sor- 
 row." 
 
 Self-Dependence. 
 
 Weary of myself, and sick of asking 
 What I am and what I ought to be, 
 At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me 
 Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea. 
 
 And a look of passionate desire 
 
 O'er the sea and to the stars I send : 
 
 "Ye who from my childhood up have calm'd 
 
 me. 
 Calm me, ah, compose me to the end!'* 
 
 "Ah, once more," I cried, "ye stars, ye waters, 
 On my heart your mighty charm renew. 
 Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you. 
 Feel my soul becoming vast like you." 
 
38 HALF THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN 
 
 From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of 
 
 heaven, 
 Over the lit sea's unquiet way, 
 In the rustling night-air came the answer : 
 Would'st thou be as these are ? Live as they ? 
 
 "Unaffrighted by the silence round them, 
 
 Undistracted by the sights they see. 
 
 These demand not that the things without 
 
 them 
 Yield them love, amusement, sympathy. 
 
 "And with joy the stars perform their shining 
 And the sea its long moon-silver'd roll. 
 For self -poised they live, nor pine with noting 
 All the fever of some differing soul. 
 
 "Bounded by themselves, and unregardful 
 In what state God's other works may be. 
 In their own tasks all their powers pouring 
 These attain the mighty life you see." 
 
 — born voice! long since, severely clear, 
 A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear, 
 "Resolve to be thyself ; and know that he 
 Who finds himself, loses his misery!" 
 
 — Mathezv Arnold. 
 
"TWO BUNCHES OF VIOLETS." 
 Chapter 1. 
 
 The tall, straight pine trees stood like sen- 
 tinels at the water's edge. A small boat was 
 being moved slightly by the zephyr wmds, as 
 if inviting one desiring meditation. A young 
 man, with a very disturbed expression of 
 countenance, threw himself very hurriedly 
 into the little messenger of the sea, loosened 
 its hold upon land, and was soon drifting, in 
 the quiet waters of the river, toward the 
 more undulating surface of a beautiful blue 
 expanse of sea in the distance. The lines ot 
 perturbation began to relax, as the charm ot 
 the deep began to lay its hold upon him. Soon 
 the little fairy boat gayly entered the lovely 
 sea, and then all was peace in the young man s 
 attitude and look. . ^ . , 
 
 "Some day, I shall love a maid of the sea, 
 he soliloquized, "Very long, rippling light 
 hair, must I see, and eyes of the depth of this 
 blue of the sea. A f orm^,^ as proud in its bear- 
 insf, as yonder pine tree." 
 
 Dotted, here and there, upon the waters 
 surrounding him, were many varieties of navi- 
 gation, for a harbor and a fort lay very near. 
 The war vessels stood so proud and fearless, 
 the ocean freight steamers appeared so sturdy, 
 their rusty iron sides evincing, that they had 
 
40 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 held their own with the waters through dis- 
 tances of many miles. 
 
 But the sailing vessels seemed to be the 
 most attractive to the young man's dreamy 
 condition. Two, three, or five masts, all had 
 the same light appearance on the sea, the most 
 harmonious bearing through the atmosphere 
 and water. 
 
 Suddenly the wheels of some excursion 
 steamers, making a noise upon the sea by their 
 steadily continued rotations, turned the young 
 man's eyes toward them, and away from the 
 masts, ropes and gracefully turned sails. His 
 yacht was far enough away, to not be caught 
 in the swell of the water caused by the large 
 steamers steadily ploughing their way. 
 
 Slowly his eyes sought the deck of the one 
 nearer to him. His peaceful expression sud- 
 denly took wings and flew away. The steam- 
 er, bringing its burden from land, had dis- 
 pelled the sea's fairy powers. Many handker- 
 chiefs, of a very gay party on deck, had waved 
 to him. His eyes, wandering far across the 
 sea to the opposite shore, saw the very large 
 and beautiful hotel built at its edge. His 
 thoughts brought to him many clear pictures 
 of evening cotillions and moonlit strolls at 
 the water's edge with that bright, fashionable, 
 worldly party. The«re was one, especially, 
 who had always sought him, pre-eminently, 
 during those evenings, and it was her hand- 
 kerchief, that had had the greatest power in 
 dispelling the charm of the sea. 
 
"two bunches of violets'* 41 
 
 "Some day, I hope she will be yours, my 
 son." Again, the same words were ringing 
 with discordant sounds, as they had done a 
 few hours ago, when he had descended the 
 steps of his mother's beautiful colonial home, 
 with its thick columns in front reaching nearly 
 to the height of the house. 
 
42 ''two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 2. 
 
 A young men's college had a very beautiful 
 situation in a small town many hundreds of 
 miles distant from the site of Claire's mother's 
 beautiful colonial home. A part of the vil- 
 lage lay low, nestled close to a most charming 
 river, but, another was built on a very high 
 bluff, overlooking a very large and beautiful 
 lake. The most prominent building on the 
 bluflF was the rambling university, from the 
 windows of which one could not see land in 
 any direction across the lake. 
 
 At one of these windows stood Claire, now 
 at the age of twenty-one, and feeling that 
 freedom should now be his. He was very 
 glad to leave his home a few months after 
 his mother had expressed to him her cherished 
 desire for his future. She had abundant 
 means, and, he knew well, that all would be 
 his, should he accede to her wishes, and very 
 little should he not. 
 
 He certainly needed a fortune for the fu- 
 ture. He had never yet learned how to work. 
 Now, these two years, which he intended to 
 spend here, would be, for the most part, a 
 pastime. He knew that. Living at a mari- 
 time place, and, by nature, loving the water, 
 he had, from early boyhood, spent a great part 
 of his life in the pleasures of the sea. 
 
 His ideal was not one of worldly affectations 
 but of simplicity. "At least, the pleasures of 
 the water are to me here, also, and now, with 
 
"two bunches of violets" 43 
 
 this new, swift flying auto, I shall hope to find 
 a new pleasure in reconnoitering this sur- 
 rounding country, new to me." 
 
44 
 
 Chapter 3. 
 
 Elaine's piazza was a bower of green during 
 the summer, for the vines had nearly suc- 
 ceeded in covering the entire front of her very 
 piquant home. A large lawn surrounding, and 
 a beautiful variety of trees, assisted in making 
 a perfect picture, when Elaine stood at the 
 portal of the vines. 
 
 "What is more rare than a day in June, 
 Then, if ever, come perfect days." 
 
 — Lowell, 
 
 Everything breathed of this as Elaine step- 
 ped forth from the vine enclosure to allow the 
 sunshine to dry the long golden tresses falling 
 below her waist. She quickly passed into the 
 side garden less exposed to passers-by. 
 
 As she was standing, with her head bent 
 slightly to shield her eyes from the dazzling 
 sun, a young man suddenly slipped from a 
 hammock beneath the trees of an adjacent 
 garden, and, with the long strides accompany- 
 ing an honest sturdy manly form, very quickly 
 took his place at Elaine's side. 
 
 She laughed a little at first, in her surprise. 
 Then, as if suddenly recollecting something, 
 she drew herself very proudly erect, turning 
 her face away from the sun towards the usu- 
 ally very quiet street. Just at that moment 
 however an automobile slowly passed. 
 
 John Hayden suddenly remarked, "An ele- 
 gant auto, Elaine. I have never seen any- 
 thing so handsome as that in our small city 
 
"two bunches of violets" 45 
 
 before. But," suddenly dropping his voice 
 lower, "I did not come to speak about every 
 day affairs, but something the nearest of all 
 to me for future life. I am going far away, 
 Elaine, to seek my fortune. I know I am 
 very young, Elaine, nineteen, and you a year 
 younger. But my feeling of love for you is 
 so strong, it is that of a man's heart." 
 
 "Do not stop me," as she made a sudden 
 gesture, "I beg of you to have patience but for 
 a moment. Pray, forgive me for snatching 
 the sudden kiss of yesterday. Remember, we 
 have played together from childhood. And 
 then," thoughtfully, "can you not remember 
 when, sometimes, I would snatch a light kiss 
 after a quarrel just as yesterday." 
 
 "I am deeply sorry to have gained your dis- 
 pleasure, and will you not give to me, as an 
 offering of peace and possibly of a little future 
 hope, that 'bunch of violets pinned to your 
 kimona ?' " 
 
 Her form had long since lost its hauteur, 
 and in simplicity, surprise, dreaminess, she 
 stood. Obediently she placed the flowers in 
 his honest grasp. Simply and reverently he 
 kissed them and said, *'Good-by, Elaine." 
 
46 ''two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 4. 
 
 Serenity seemed to be the motive of this 
 day, a week later, when Claire with a friend 
 to accompany him, guided his automobile down 
 the steep descending road-side from the col- 
 lege to the town. As Claire and Beaumont 
 looked at the very quiet waters of the large 
 lake, which the college overlooked, constantly 
 seen from time to time through the openings 
 between the bushes and trees by the road-side, 
 Claire began to talk meditatively and con- 
 fidentially to his friend. 
 
 "It was a week ago to-day, Beaumont, be- 
 neath this same beautiful blue reflection on 
 high that I saw, in this quaint little maritime 
 city of yours, the realization of an inspira- 
 tion of a maid of the sea, which has many 
 times occurred to me on account of my great 
 love for the water." 
 
 "My auto glided on almost without my 
 knowing it, after I had seen that picture, no 
 longer one of a dream, but one of life to me 
 now." 
 
 Beaumont leaned forward placing an hon- 
 est, sympathetic helpful arm upon his new 
 friend's shoulder. He had lived in this city 
 all of his life, and Claire knew well was a 
 very highly respected son of a citizen highly 
 honored for many years in this city. 
 
 He knew that the prestige of an introduc- 
 tion from him would nearly place him upon 
 the footing of a near friend at once. 
 
47 
 
 The auto glided on, leaving the steep de- 
 scending path merging into a level driveway, 
 which tended for some distance toward a 
 bridge, conducting them to the other part of 
 the city in close proximity to the river. Then, 
 quickly leaving the business part of the city, 
 and traversing the handsomely built boule- 
 vards, it took a sudden left-wheel into the less 
 pretentious parts of the city. 
 
 Then the force of Beaumont's honest na- 
 ture could not help giving vent. "Where are 
 you taking me? I fully expected to recog- 
 nize your ideal in one of our handsome 
 homes." Claire calmly answered, *Tn a few 
 minutes you will understand." The machine 
 continued its action through several streets of 
 simple homes, with pretty lawns surrounding 
 them. 
 
 When Claire stretched his arm forth, indi- 
 cating Elaine's simple home, so enhanced by 
 the beauties of nature, Beaumont said heart- 
 ily, "you have chosen the rare simple beauty 
 of our Httle town. Since a child, she has al- 
 ways been admired and respected. The early 
 death of her mother made her the comfort of 
 her father's simple home." 
 
 Claire had hoped for another beautiful 
 vision of Elaine to-day, specially choosing a 
 day favored to perfection by the elements, as 
 the one a week ago. Unwillingly he turned 
 his machine back towards the down-town dis- 
 trict. 
 
48 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 5. 
 
 Beaumont, at once, began to talk to Claire 
 about many subjects relative to the university- 
 teams, and many other pleasant social futuri- 
 ties. It did not occur to him that his f riend^s 
 dream amounted to more than many which he, 
 himself, had had and which up to this time 
 had very quickly been forgotten. 
 
 But, suddenly, as the machine was very 
 near to the cement pavement in front of one 
 of the finest ladies' suit stores of the small city, 
 Beaumont placed a deterring hand upon 
 Claire's arm, whereupon he stopped the ma- 
 chine at once and Beaumont alighted. Claire 
 scarcely had time to turn his head in Beau- 
 mont's direction, when the words were said, 
 "Miss Tresmore, will you allow me to intro- 
 duce to you, my friend, Mr. Fairfax? 
 
 Claire acknowledged the introduction with 
 the gallantry of a gentleman accustomed to 
 the most refined ladies' society, which fell 
 with very welcome impressions upon Elaine's 
 naturally refined senses. And all the time 
 Claire was inwardly in a whirl of delight for 
 he had at last accomplished his object of the 
 day, and he also found Elaine just as beau- 
 tiful and pleasing to his eyes in her neat, plain, 
 beautifully-fitting tailor-made costume, and 
 hat most gracefully shaped and trimmed, as 
 in her simple garb in the garden resembling 
 his dream of a maid of the sea. 
 
 "Of course you know," continued Beaumont 
 
"two bunches of violets" 49 
 
 in his very honest straight- forward manner, 
 "that I have been attending lectures up on the 
 hill during this year. I suppose my father 
 has probably mentioned it 'to yours, as I 
 sometimes hear him speak of talking with 
 him on the street. My friend, Claire," mo- 
 tioning in his direction, "and I have had some 
 most jolly times together. All the boys make 
 the walls of the old "U" ring." 
 
 "But I was thinking the other day, that, 
 during our vacation Claire and I would enjoy 
 very much some pleasant visits with some 
 young ladies of my acquaintance. May we 
 possibly ask you to be the first on our list 
 after our closing festivities ?" 
 
 Elaine felt complimented by the request, for 
 she knew her father had the highest respect 
 for this son and his father, who was a man of 
 wealth and honorary position in their town. 
 She thus expressed herself in a very pretty, 
 simple manner. Claire had also alighted some 
 time since from the machine, and was stand- 
 ing by Beaumont's side. 
 
 As Elaine, after bidding adieu, started to 
 take her departure, Claire brushed a little 
 near to her, thus tossing a beautiful bunch of 
 violets, loosely fastened to her jacket, be- 
 neath his foot. 
 
50 "two bunches of violets'* 
 
 Chapter 6. 
 
 Elaine's father was so proud of his daugh- 
 ter's beauty, and great refinement of taste in 
 dress, that he could, according to his judg- 
 ment, only consider it as a natural sequence, 
 that sons of gentlemen of wealth should visit 
 his daughter. 
 
 But, not so, the old housekeeper, with whom 
 the mother had entrusted Elaine when but a 
 child, begging her to stay and watch over her 
 for as many years as it lay in her power. 
 
 Claire's elegant machine was seen so many 
 times a most admired object in Elaine's simple 
 neighborhood. Whispered warnings from 
 Cordelia fell on deaf ears with Elaine. She 
 had never been so happy before and that 
 beautiful light coming into her eyes made lier 
 perfectly irresistable to Claire. Beaumont 
 had called with him once or twice, and then 
 had gone away for a summer vacation trip 
 with his family. 
 
 Many beautiful evenings before the dark- 
 ness settled, Claire and Elaine swiftly glided 
 through the beautiful roads surrounding the 
 city, past farms, orchards, and even vineyards 
 and hill-sides of almost incomparable beauty. 
 The mystic influence of the great beauty of 
 nature, combined with the not to be surpassed 
 sweet air of summer evenings before night- 
 fall, fulfilled the work which Cupid had com- 
 menced by shooting his dart into Elaine's 
 
"two bunches of violets" 51 
 
 heart, through the vale of Claire's refinement 
 of speech and unrivalled gallantry. 
 
 Claire, himself, had never passed a more de- 
 lightful summer, and had no obstacle obstruct- 
 ed, his pathway would have been, he thought 
 to himself, forever happy to have continuued 
 under the influence of Elaine's wand of love. 
 
52 
 
 Chapter 7. 
 
 Claire had always been accustomed to living 
 a life estranged to a great degree from that of 
 his mother. It had always seemed to him that 
 she was so engrossed in the indulgence of her 
 pleasurable tastes that from early boyhood 
 he had quietly understood that her pleasure 
 was not his pleasure, and had gradually thrown 
 the veil of beauty which he most admired over 
 his many idle hours. 
 
 So the mother now quietly understood that 
 Claire was happily engaged in some way this 
 summer vacation. But Helen Loe's persist- 
 ence in following up an affection, which she, 
 herself, had allowed to grow, with really no 
 other encouragement than gallantry and flat- 
 tery rendered by Claire to one, whom he well 
 knew, it was his mother's one cherished wish 
 should be his both by hand and fortune, caused 
 Claire's mother to positively insist, by letter, 
 on his returning home for two weeks before 
 his curriculum for his second and last year 
 commenced. 
 
 He sat in his tastefully decorated study ad- 
 joining his bedroom. He, although tall and 
 well built, appeared small as he sat in a sumpt- 
 uous leather tufted chair, it was so beyond 
 ordinary size. His mother's letter had drop- 
 ped from his hand to the floor and discon- 
 tent appeared both in attitude and expression. 
 
 He wished his most happy dream of the 
 summer to continue, not to be thus rudely 
 
53 
 
 thrust upon and interrupted. Had the sea 
 been smooth before him, he would have res- 
 cued his maid from the rocks and Hved hap- 
 pily on some beautiful isle. But the dark 
 high waves and yet darker sky, presenting 
 themselves to his sight, intimidated him, able 
 captain though he was on the sea, and sud- 
 denly awakening from his dream to reality, 
 he quickly arose from his comfortable posi- 
 tion, and sat in a desk-chair in front of a 
 writing table. 
 
54 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 8. 
 
 On the following evening at five, Claire's 
 automobile stood in front of Elaine Tres- 
 more's home, and Claire pushed the bell. It 
 was answered, almost hurriedly, by Elaine her- 
 self, so accustomed was she to his many 
 visits at this hour. 
 
 They were very quickly and happily seated 
 in the "auto," and speeding over a smooth 
 road, on a very high bluff overlooking the 
 lake. Nothing could be more romantic in 
 its bearing. There had been a light rain 
 during the early part of the afternoon, ren- 
 dering the roads free from dust, the air 
 fragrant with the perfume of blossoming trees 
 and bushes. The fruit hung from the numer- 
 ous trees, in the many orchards that they 
 passed, and the washing of the rain had given 
 its many colorings exquisite beauty, which 
 raised Elaine's happiness to an insuperable 
 height. 
 
 Then Claire curved the course of his "auto" 
 into a camp overlooking the lake. There were 
 a few tents dotted here and there, occupied 
 by a few people enjoying the summer in quiet 
 solitude. This had been a favorite rendez- 
 vous of Claire and Elaine. But never before 
 had he asked her, for a moment, to descend 
 the bluff to the beautiful beach. 
 
 Elaine's proud bearing and quiet dignity, 
 especially a little uncommon firm expression 
 of the mouth, had always kept Claire within 
 
OF violets" 55 
 
 an horizon, gallant but not familiar. Looking 
 at her to-day with uncertainty, he almost 
 tremulously asked that they might descend but 
 for a moment, to enjoy the beauty of the scene 
 to the utmost. 
 
56 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 9. 
 
 The descent was very quickly effected by 
 Elaine with Claire's assistance. The beach 
 was extremely narrow. In some places they 
 could reach the underbrush of the hill-side, 
 and, at the same time, the waves danced mer- 
 rily beneath their feet. 
 
 A log, lying close to the side of the bluff, 
 induced them to seek rest for a few moments. 
 Elaine, under the influence of nature's free- 
 dom, and all-reigning power at this particular 
 place, removed the dark hat of wide brim, 
 which had only enhanced the more the pure 
 simple beauty of the face beneath and the 
 figure so tastefully robed in clinging, white 
 summer attire. 
 
 "This is perfection, Miss Tresmore," began 
 Claire. "The influence of the waves is always 
 so powerful upon me that happiness always 
 comes to me with their proximity. But, some- 
 times a lonesomeness, a longing for some one 
 to be at my side, someone, who looks so pure 
 and beautiful that I can imagine that she has 
 suddenly risen from them, a native of them, 
 comes upon me, when I am under the in- 
 fluence of their magic." 
 
 "But to-day," suddenly turning and looking 
 directly and scrutinizingly at her slightly 
 averted face, "no lonesomeness comes to me, 
 for you fulfill my dream of beauty rising from 
 the waves." She suddenly started and looked 
 at him, somewhat affrighted, but he very 
 
"two bunches of violets" 57 
 
 quickly detected at the same time a soft blush 
 spreading over her face. 
 
 "Elaine," suddenly broke forth from Claire 
 in his fervor, "I cannot restrain the bounds 
 of my love. They have loosened themselves, 
 and only now await your condemnation or 
 approval." 
 
 The affrightened look had now no place in 
 the beautiful eyes, but allowing her love for 
 him to take its place, she, with childish sim- 
 plicity placed both hands in his, outstretched 
 to meet them with these words, "Claire, I love 
 you with all my heart." 
 
 The bluff was not high, and some sound of 
 every-day life was suddenly wafted to 
 Elaine's ears, from the few frequenters of the 
 little camp. It just as quickly called her, 
 from her delicious sense of happiness to a 
 duty to the voice of the world, and com- 
 mencing, at once, to wend her way through 
 the underbrush of the bluff of slight height, 
 it was but the duty of Claire to silently, 
 though unwillingly, follow her. 
 
 After they had ridden for a short distance 
 in the automobile, on the return home, Elaine 
 turned to Claire saying, "I fear that I have 
 too quickly betrayed the deep secret of my 
 heart." 
 
 "I hope that the treasurer of your secret 
 is one whom you trust as well as you love," 
 he responded, "for he has a boon to ask of 
 his depositor, that the like bond of secret love 
 exchanged to-day, may remain in her silent 
 
keeping, until it is ready for materialization by 
 the acknowledgment of our fellow men." 
 
"two bunches of violets" 59 
 
 Chapter 10. 
 
 Elaine sat in her pretty bedroom in a low 
 wicker rocking chair. In her lap lay a little 
 unopened package. She had the dreamy ap- 
 pearance of one at last thankful to have but 
 her own thoughts for company. Finally, 
 arousing herself a little from her lethargy, 
 she moved her chair a little closer to her 
 dressing table, on which was a reading lamp. 
 
 She commenced unwrapping what Claire 
 had pressed into her hand, as he had said 
 good-bye to her, after their ride during the 
 early evening. A little note first presented 
 itself to her, before a most dainty little box. 
 
 Wondering at once why there should be 
 anything written, when she had almost but 
 just left him, she commenced to read with 
 eagerness. 
 
 "Thou art the pearl, the flower of the sea. 
 The diamonds, the waters holding thee." 
 
 "When you read this I shall have started on 
 a two weeks' requested visit to my mother. 
 May these words and the emblem keep thee 
 wholly mine." 
 
 Elaine paled as she saw the words "two 
 weeks." She felt that each day would be to 
 her a year in time without seeing him. Then, 
 suddenly, "to my mother" brought Elaine to a 
 chiding of herself for selfishness, and she now 
 began to open the box. 
 
 Involuntarily she started as the beauty of 
 the pearl and the delicacy of taste of setting 
 
60 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 flooded her vision. The many diamonds truly 
 held the flower, and Claire's delicate compli- 
 ment to her beauty placed him in her heart, 
 on a yet higher pedestal of adoration. 
 
''two bunches of violets" 61 
 
 Chapter 11. 
 
 When Claire reached home he found him- 
 self surrounded by the usual numberless fes- 
 tivities of fashion planned for him, which, to 
 his dreamy, quiet nature, were excessively 
 tiresome. He relieved the tenor of these, as 
 much as possible, by lone sails upon the river 
 and sea, which seemed to bring strength of 
 endurance to him, for the almost constant en- 
 croachments of Helen Loe and her worldly 
 environments. 
 
 It was now understood as the public atten- 
 tions of Claire to Helen seemed to indicate, 
 that she was the object of his adoration as 
 heretofore, and whispers which were very 
 pleasing to Claire's mother, began to circulate. 
 
 According to hearsay, plans were effected 
 by the families on each side, so that Helen 
 would spend her time abroad for two years, 
 during which time Claire would complete his 
 curriculum, and establish himself for a year 
 in a profession in a metropolis. 
 
 Reports were spread from ear to ear, really 
 emanating from the heads of the families of 
 both interested parties concerned until what 
 was to some time happen, and what he was 
 expected to do, came at last to Claire, before 
 he had ever thought of any such futurities. 
 
 But, allowing himself to drift, knowing that 
 to attempt to turn the current of affairs would 
 mean to put himself a lone man upon a sand- 
 
62 
 
 bar, he gallantly acceded with Helen at his 
 side to the cajolery of their gay friends. 
 
63 
 Chapter 12. 
 
 Autumn brought the many students back 
 to the college. Claire had had the field al- 
 most entirely to himself during the summer. 
 He had retained his room, and his friends 
 having left, his attentions to Elaine had been 
 unknown. 
 
 Seeing now that his environments concern- 
 ing Helen Loe were beginning to assume 
 iron-clad appearances, he resolved to main- 
 tain as much secrecy as possible in regard to 
 his beautiful dream. 
 
 The lovely rides in the "auto" ceased, bring- 
 ing great regret to Elaine, for she had never 
 before experienced such perfect happiness. 
 Claire now called at stated times, far apart, 
 at Elaine's home, during his second and last 
 year, thus giving to Elaine's father a feeling 
 of respect for him. 
 
 But many were the different little appoint- 
 ed meetings between Claire and Elaine. She 
 felt uneasiness at times in keeping her secret 
 from her father, but trust and love were 
 synonymous with Elaine. 
 
 A beautiful little orchard lying open to 
 passers-by, adjoined one of the homes a few 
 paces from Elaine's. Often, early in the 
 moon-lit evenings, in the shadow of a lovely, 
 bowing, bending fruit tree, Claire stood, to be 
 joined for a few minutes by Elaine. 
 
 The varying shadows and sounds caused 
 by the many boughs of the trees obeying the 
 
64 
 
 gentle influence of the winds, often brought 
 trepidation to the lovers' hearts, for fear of 
 intrusion upon the ever interesting inter- 
 change of love's confidences. 
 
65 
 Chapter 13. 
 
 During the winter, when the beautiful 
 growth of nature lay sleeping, thus being un- 
 able to spread its attractive pictures before 
 Elaine, caught as she was in the sometimes 
 intricate spider weaving of Love's Dream, 
 then the full force of life without him bore 
 its weight upon her. 
 
 Memories of this induced her, when once 
 more beneath the moon-lit trees, at the end of 
 Claire's curriculum, to consent to his entreat- 
 ies for a secret marriage and flight to a large 
 city. 
 
 One evening she left Cordelia for a little 
 walk. No word of marriage was left as a 
 comfort to the father. Claire had imposed 
 strict silence. Only the words, "Do not seek 
 me. I am safe and my happiness is assured 
 with Claire." 
 
 The father, irate, denounced his daughter 
 and to Cordelia, "Never mention her name, I 
 shall forget her." 
 
 But Cordelia's keen eyes detected during 
 the following year a deep sadness settling it- 
 self most forcibly upon his face, and a bend- 
 ing of the shoulders, never seen before in the 
 very erect form of Elaine's father. 
 
66 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 14. 
 
 From the beautiful moon-lit, waving trees 
 to the "auto," lying in wait a few paces dis- 
 tant, Claire and Elaine very quickly effected 
 their flight, and then rode rapidly for several 
 miles to a small town distant, where Claire 
 had informed Elaine that a young friend, a 
 minister, would tie their nuptial knot in the 
 parlor of his small home. 
 
 Claire had found enough arguments and 
 proof conclusive to convince Elaine that just 
 a little financial pathway between his mother 
 and himself needed a little professional clear- 
 ance, and then she would be his acknowledged 
 bride by his family and friends, and speedily 
 forgiven for a short-lived secrecy in real mar- 
 riage by her devoted father. 
 
 After leaving the little home in the little 
 town, Elaine, believing that she was held in 
 holy wedlock by Claire, and that his reasons 
 for secrecy were all-wise and sufficient, gave 
 herself up to the realization of a perfect hap- 
 piness, which she had so long coveted, of 
 being Claire's own. 
 
 To a metropolis, a thousand miles distant, 
 they traveled, and an apartment in a suburb 
 not very well known, being quickly secured 
 by Claire, this became a place of unbounded 
 happiness for a year for Claire and Elaine. 
 
 He had, in the city, a professional office, at 
 which he spent only enough time to give his 
 mother a written account of his industry. 
 
"two bunches of violets" 67 
 
 His place of residence in the suburb was 
 an unknown quantity to all who knew him in 
 the city. 
 
68 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 15. 
 
 Nearly two years had passed since Helen 
 had set sail for foreign ports and Claire's 
 mother had gone with her. Letters now be- 
 gan to come to Claire, that they might soon 
 be expected home. But, owing to the de- 
 lightfulness of their visit, if Claire would not 
 mind waiting for Helen for his own a little 
 longer, they might defer their return for a 
 few months. 
 
 Claire read his yet forwarded freedom with 
 delight. But, as he looked in the futurity of 
 time and saw that it would be about Christ- 
 mas-time that he would be expected to claim 
 a bride not of his own choosing, for his mother 
 had written that the trousseau was chosen and 
 all would be ready for culmination at that 
 beautiful time of the year, Claire looked at a 
 sea with troublous dark waters, and a ter- 
 rific storm gathered in the heavily clouded 
 sky, with a risk of its suddenly tearing away 
 from him his beautiful dream of a maid of 
 the sea, and compelling him to save but him- 
 self for all of this earthly futurity. 
 
''two bunches of violets" 69 
 
 Chapter 16. 
 
 "Elaine," said Claire, on the morning of the 
 second day before Christmas, "I have very 
 suddenly been called home." She was hold- 
 ing a very wee little one in her arms and she 
 very suddenly looked at him, affrighted, but 
 still with eyes held in trust. 
 
 "You mean, I am certain, that you will 
 now," looking down at her little cherished 
 bundle, held yet more closely in her arms, 
 "take us with you." 
 
 Claire turned suddenly, almost cruelly to- 
 wards her, saying, "I mean nothing of the 
 kind. I shall go alone. I have only a few 
 minutes to talk." 
 
 With loving entreaties, Elaine clung to him 
 until Claire felt himself beginning to weaken, 
 and so summoned anger to his side. This 
 caused Elaine to use her last resource. 
 
 With the hauteur that he had seen, at the 
 time of his first vision of her she drew her- 
 self away from him, saying, "I, your wife, 
 demand that you either remain with me, un- 
 protected in a strange place and without a 
 friend, or take me." 
 
 In a moment of cruel anger, he lost all con- 
 trol of himself and said, "Your claim can not 
 be substantiated. A friend of mine, having 
 no right to read the marriage service, read 
 ours." 
 
 Although in such high anger he fully caught 
 the sublime determination imprinted in the 
 
70 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 pallor of her face, which the severe shock of 
 his words had caused, and he saw his beau- 
 tiful pure "maid of the sea" caught up into 
 a most beautiful light and vanishing from 
 him forever. 
 
71 
 
 Chapter 17. 
 
 "It is dark and I am far from home, lead 
 Thou me on," the words rang in Elaine's ears, 
 with the reproduction of those sweet musical 
 tones heard by her in the dim past distance of 
 time, when she was a very little child, listen- 
 ing to a dear mother singing a favorite hymn. 
 
 The spiritual thought inspired helped Elaine 
 to firmly close the door of what would be 
 disgrace and sin, and start out into the world, 
 without a name, to seek to return to her 
 father, to ask forgiveness for allowing secrecy 
 to enter into their paternal and filial love, for 
 many years having been tied with tighter and 
 stronger cords, on account of that loss, during 
 early childhood, of a dearly loved wife and 
 mother. 
 
 She had summoned to her aid all plain, 
 dark clothing in her possession, a cape that 
 she could draw about the cherished little one, 
 held with loving tenderness under its protec- 
 tion, and a dark heavy veil that would keep 
 her pale face from the searching looks of the 
 crowds at the railroad stations. 
 
 Very quickly Elaine was conducted by the 
 sub-transit into the metropolis, and she en- 
 tered the first jewelry store presenting itself 
 to her view. 
 
 It was only a moment, and then the beau- 
 tiful ring, given to her by Claire, floated on 
 the waters of past sad memories. 
 
72 "two bunches of violets'* 
 
 Chapter 18. 
 
 With timidity, yet with great bravery and 
 determination of purpose, Elaine left the 
 store, and started to find her way to the rail- 
 road station. She hoped that now she had 
 sufficient to carry her safe once more into the 
 simple home of her father. She knew that 
 the price she had accepted for the ring was 
 not at all its value, but knowing that holding 
 anything of such beauty and wishing to dis- 
 pose of it beneath her sad garb placed her in 
 a position both doubtful and suspicious, she 
 had accepted what was off^ered without a word 
 of dissent. 
 
 Many times had she traversed these streets 
 with Claire during their supposed honey-moon. 
 The night was now approaching and the store 
 windows were most entrancing to the passers- 
 by, with their many and various colored lights. 
 
 These Elaine really did not even see. Know- 
 ing her danger in the surrounding wickedness 
 of the approaching night which always lurks 
 in the crowded thoroughfares of any great 
 metropolis, her eyes were simply bent on 
 swiftly gliding by and evading anyone of bold 
 or trespassing appearance. 
 
 She was very familiar with the way leading 
 to the station. Eagerly and quickly pressing 
 forward, she was very suddenly stopped by a 
 condensed throng on a street corner. 
 
 This, combined with the whistles and other 
 lively sounds of the newly-invented toys for 
 
*'two bunches of violets" 73 
 
 this Christmas-tide street sale, suddenly made 
 Elaine cognizant of the life and joy of the 
 Christmas shoppers. 
 
74 "two bunches of violets 
 
 Chapter 19. 
 
 The loud, rumbling sounds, emanating from 
 the elevated trains, constantly running over- 
 head, produced in their turn their deafening 
 impressions. Santa Claus, in his imitation 
 garb, stood in front of the immense, elegantly 
 decorated windows of the department store on 
 this corner, and the street venders held their 
 holly wreaths high in the air, with their cry 
 for attention from the passers-by. 
 
 The little news-boys, none too warmly clad, 
 held their own in the crowd with their sweep- 
 ing energy and loud cries of the evening paper. 
 
 Elaine saw the people constantly surging 
 from the iron staircase descending to the 
 street corners from the trains above, adding 
 their weight to the crowd, for the police to 
 handle to safety across the streets. 
 
 The people stood with the deepest interest 
 and pleasure before the store windows, many 
 holding little folks upon their shoulders to 
 view the beautifully dressed dolls and auto- 
 matic wax-figures. 
 
 Charity presented itself also to her eyes, in 
 the shape of maimed and crushed figures, and 
 some plain and pretty faces of women, under 
 the protection of the plain garb and extended 
 poke-bonnets, belonging to city charitable or- 
 ganizations. 
 
 The many heavy wagons, elegant carriages, 
 and automobiles were at last stopped in their 
 
*'two bunches of violets" 75 
 
 movements, and the crowd was ordered to 
 "move on," or "hurry up." 
 
 So for several blocks Elaine moved through 
 the fashionable shopping thoroughfare of the 
 city, moved with an especially defined sense of 
 the great difference in her present position, 
 and that of the elegantly dressed ladies in the 
 automobiles, where she felt in all justice 
 should be her rightful place. 
 
76 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 20. 
 
 On Christmas eve, beneath a beautiful can- 
 opy of holly stood Claire Fairfax in the li- 
 brary of the home of Helen Loe. She de- 
 scended the stair-case, the balustrade of which 
 was entwined with ropes of holly. It pre- 
 dominated everywhere in graceful arrange- 
 ment and profusion throughout the many 
 beautiful tapestried rooms of this elegant 
 home. 
 
 The bride's dress was an arrangement of 
 marvelous beauty and of the latest mode, and 
 beneath the point veil, Helen raised eyes ra- 
 diant with happiness, as Claire moved slightly, 
 gracefully to meet her. At that moment she 
 was the object of the utmost envy to many of 
 the young ladies most beautifully decollete 
 gowned, in their eagerness to see all, slightly 
 pressing against the white satin ribbons form- 
 ing the aisle for the passing of the bride with 
 her attendants. 
 
 Very raputrously she greeted the kiss of 
 her husband after the marriage had been 
 solemnized, as he and she turned to greet the 
 many congratulations of their kindred and 
 friends. 
 
 "Man and wife," the world acknowledged 
 them. There was no breath of dissent, and 
 Helen, after experiencing the pleasure of in- 
 dulging in the exquisite beauty of bridal, table 
 decorations and catering, was led away chival- 
 rously by Claire, only to be seen again by the 
 
"two bunches of violets" 77 
 
 fashionably and beautifully gowned throng 
 of friends pressing upon her, as she, in a 
 superb traveling gown with Claire support- 
 ing her, managed to glide swiftly down the 
 beautiful stair-case, and through the hall, to 
 the already opened door-way, where she 
 looked like a fleeting vision of perfect happi- 
 ness, with the flakes of a fast-falling snow- 
 storm portending their future chilling effect. 
 
78 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 21. 
 
 On this Christmas morn, Chanticleer had 
 succeeded in leaving his foot-prints on nature. 
 This was one of those rare mornings of winter 
 on which one awakens to find that a silvery 
 veil is covering each spreading bough of the 
 trees and the innumerable twigs. 
 
 Silver sheen covered all of nature's foliage. 
 Beneath a leaden sky, and with the earth cov- 
 ered with a fresh heavy fall of snow, so early 
 in the morning scarcely disturbed by even a 
 foot-print, stood the crystal trees and shrubs. 
 
 The icicles hung beautifully arranged in 
 varying shapes and sizes from the edge of the 
 roof of Elaine's piazza, and were surmounted 
 by a crown of snow several feet high, cover- 
 ing the top of the roof of the piazza. 
 
 Elaine's father had been sitting in a large 
 reclining chair, before a bright hearth, since 
 the early morning hours. Disturbed in mind, 
 he had been unable to sleep, for the returning 
 Christmas-tide forced upon him thoughts of 
 the daughter whom he had striven to forget. 
 
 He could see hanging in front of the fire- 
 place the stocking of the beautiful little girl 
 of long ago. It was packed to the utmost, 
 overflowing, even tied with string at the top, 
 to prevent its thrusting its contents upon the 
 public gaze. Then, she, Elaine, suddenly ap- 
 pearing at the opposite door-way, in her little 
 white night-robe and bare feet, unable to wait 
 longer for Christmas joy ; he feels her now 
 
"two bunches of violets" 79 
 
 within his warm clasp, and, sitting on his 
 knees, she, with glad cries of surprise, tumbles 
 every article from the stocking into their laps, 
 and the sides and corners of the old large 
 chair. 
 
 The happy picture and the bright warmth 
 of the fire at last have closed his eyes, and he 
 sits, reclining, asleep ; when suddenly a sharp 
 cry of "Cordelia" rents the air. 
 
80 "two bunches of violets' 
 
 Chapter 22. 
 
 In an instant from a little adjoining room 
 the faithful woman is at his side, thinking in 
 her great anxiety that Death must be near at 
 hand. 
 
 But, instead, a terrible look of vengeance 
 shot from the eyes of the father, standing in 
 front of the chair, his body shaking violently 
 with uncontrollable agitation. 
 
 "I have seen her in my dream," came from 
 his lips in terrible distinctness, so that Cor- 
 delia at once knew whom he meant, "in ter- 
 rible distress," he continued, "innocent de- 
 serted. Never shall I rest until I wreak my 
 venegance on the man who has ruined her life 
 and mine. His life shall be my only forfeit." 
 
 Cordelia had stood transfixed, as it were, for 
 a moment, when suddenly, a shadow cast from 
 the front window seemed to intercept, for a 
 moment, her gaze fixed upon him in his fury. 
 
 She raised her arm, as if to try to silence 
 him, and then, "Pray, try to be quiet, sir, if 
 only for a moment. Through the window, in 
 al the heavy snow to her knees, I can see a 
 woman in dark clothes. Yes," putting her 
 hand above her eyes, as if wishing to be cer- 
 tain, "I am sure that bundle she is carrying 
 is a child. On such a morn as this she must 
 be in terrible distress to come to a stranger's 
 home. Let me go," just for a moment, ad- 
 vancing to the door. "Let me see." 
 
 She swung the door suddenly, and the wo- 
 
''two bunches of violets" 81 
 
 man fell exhausted, fainting, in Cordelia's 
 arms. "Poor creature," came from Cor- 
 delia's lips, "wading through several feet of 
 snow on the sidewalks of this town, at this 
 early time in the morning, with this little one 
 in her arms, has outdone her." 
 
 Seeing extremity like his own, Elaine's 
 father forgot himself for a moment to give 
 aid. "Go, Cordelia," authoritatively came 
 from him. "Get restoratives. I will hft her 
 into the chair by the fire, to give her babe and 
 her warmth." 
 
 He gently lifted her from Cordelia's arms, 
 and placed her babe and her in the reclining 
 chair before the hearth. 
 
82 . "two bunches of violets" 
 Chapter 23. 
 
 Cordelia was detained for a few moments 
 searching for and collecting together what she 
 thought would be necessary to help her to 
 throw off from the mother and child the bad 
 effects which exposure in the early morning 
 winter had produced. 
 
 Elaine's father began to pace the room and, 
 just as his mood had been so suddenly in- 
 terrupted by the appeararuce of the stranger, 
 so now it seemed to just as quickly return. 
 He forgot everything except his hatred and 
 thirst for vengeance, and he began mumbling 
 to himself ; then suddenly broke forth from 
 him in most pitiful sobs, "I have wronged 
 you, Elaine." 
 
 He did not notice, for his head was bowed 
 in his hands, and he had knelt before the 
 fire-side in his distress; but the woman in 
 the chair began to move, the hands weakly 
 pushed up the heavy veil, which had alto- 
 gether hidden her face, and raising herself a 
 little aflfrightedly, ''What did I hear? Where 
 am I ?" 
 
 Then in a second it came upon her, one 
 glance at the old fireplace, and then the bowed, 
 kneeling figure of the father before it. 
 
 Forgetting that she had in her intense weak- 
 ness been almost unable to raise her veil, in 
 her excitement she lifted the babe lying in 
 her lap, placed it gently in the chair, and 
 
"two bunches of violets" 83 
 
 stepped quickly, almost noiselessly to her 
 father's side. 
 
 But nature was not to be resisted so easily 
 and quickly waved her powerful scepter once 
 more, and she fell unconscious before the 
 father kneeling at the fireside in dire distress. 
 
 Cordelia entered just at that moment, her 
 arms filled with comforts and restoratives, 
 and heard the joyful, yet alarmed cry of the 
 father, "Elaine! It is my little Elaine! She 
 has at last come back to me." 
 
84 ''two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 24. 
 
 Cordelia, in her surprise, nearly dropped all 
 that she held in her hands, but after one look 
 at the pallor of Elaine's face, she was herself 
 at once, working with all her common sense, 
 ability and material at hand to bring back 
 signs of Hfe. 
 
 But it seemed to be of no avail, and the 
 poor woman finally broke down, weeping, 
 saying tremulously, "I am afraid she is gone, 
 sir." 
 
 The father had had no fears that she would 
 not regain consciousness, and had been walk- 
 ing back and forth in the room thinking and 
 wondering what had been the life story of his, 
 darling, while she had been away from him. 
 
 Suddenly, recalled now to himself, the same 
 fear of Elaine's not recovering now possessed 
 him, and he dispatched Cordelia hastily for 
 medical assistance. Bending now over Elaine 
 he worked with all his knowledge and power 
 to restore her to life, but, at last, in despair, 
 as Cordelia had been, he arose, possessed once 
 more with the thirst for vengeance, and be- 
 gan to pace the room to and fro with quick 
 strides, calling out aloud to be given power to 
 bring justice upon the man who had done this 
 deed to his beloved Elaine. With terrible 
 distinctness and power came forth from him, 
 "I will kill him." 
 
 The terrific force of feeling, and the loud 
 tone following the restorative work of Cor- 
 
"two bu ches of violets" 85 
 
 delia, and himself, caused Elaine to be sud- 
 denly restored to consciousness, and with the 
 opening of her eyes, had also heard the words. 
 
 "Father, stay ! What would you do," came 
 weakly from her. In an instant he knelt at 
 her side, for Cordelia had long before lifted 
 Elaine upon a couch in front of the fire-place. 
 
 On seeing her regain consciousness, beside 
 himself with joy, laughing, crying at the same 
 time, he gently took her hands, saying, 
 
 "Never mind, Elaine, just tell me, if you 
 can, in a few words, about your life, since 
 you have been away from me. 
 
86 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 25. 
 
 When Cordelia opened the door, hurriedly 
 followed by the elderly, kind looking physi- 
 cian, they found Elaine with her arms about 
 her father's neck, unravelling to him the story 
 of her life with Claire. 
 
 "Sh," came from the physician to Cordelia, 
 as he quietly put his hand upon his lips, and 
 placed a deterring hand upon her arm, as she 
 was beginning to advance to the fire-place. 
 
 Then the physician's keen ears heard the 
 father say, quietly, firmly to Elaine. "The 
 man who did this wicked deed shall give you 
 your honor by true marriage, or, I swear, he 
 shall meet death by my hand." 
 
 "Father," as excitedly as could come from 
 one, in as weak a condition as Elaine's, "I 
 could never trust him, love him again." Then 
 pressing him closer to her, holding him tighter, 
 she began to whisper, 'T fear that I have not 
 long to live. Father." "Do not let me feel 
 that this sin, which has been committed with- 
 out intent on my part, shall bring my father 
 to sin against Him, who says, 'Vengeance is 
 mine.' " 
 
 "Elaine," the father wept, "You ask more 
 than flesh can do." 
 
 "No, no Father," came still more weakly 
 from Elaine. "Dear Father, promise me. I 
 feel that my precious moments with you in 
 this world are numbered, and, listen ! Do 
 you not hear those beautiful Christmas chimes 
 
"two bunches of violets'* 87 
 
 from the tower nearby? So many happy 
 Christmas days I have loved to hear them toll 
 their Teace on Earth!' But, Father, never 
 have the tones been so sweet as they will be 
 to-day, if they bring forth to me by their ap- 
 peal, your promise." 
 
 But still the father remained silent with 
 bent head. "Do you remember," continued 
 Elaine, while the chimes made the village air 
 resound with their beautiful anthem, Teace 
 on Earth?' Do you remember those lines 
 from 'Snow Bound' which we used to read so 
 many times, sitting by this fire-place together, 
 when you would grow sad and lonesome with- 
 out dear mother?" 
 
 "How strange it seems, with so much gone 
 
 Of life and love, to still live on! 
 
 Ah, brother ! only I and thou 
 
 Are left of all that circle now, 
 
 The dear home faces whereupon 
 
 That fitful firelight paled and shown. 
 
 Henceforward, listen, as we will. 
 
 The voices of that hearth are still. 
 
 Look where we may, the wide earth o'er, 
 
 Those lighted faces smile no more. 
 
 We tread the paths their feet have worn. 
 
 We sit beneath their orchard trees, 
 
 We hear, like them the hum of bees 
 
 And rustle of the bladed corn ; 
 
 We turn the pages that they read. 
 
 Their written words we linger o'er, 
 
 But in the sun they cast no shade. 
 
88 ''two bunches of violets" 
 
 No voice is heard, no sign is made, 
 
 No step is on the conscious floor! 
 
 Yet Love will dream and Faith v^^ill trust 
 
 (Since He who knows our need is just) 
 
 That somehow, somewhere meet we must. 
 
 Alas for him who never sees 
 
 And stars shine through his cypress trees 1 
 
 Who hopeless, lays his dead away, 
 
 Nor looks to see the breaking day 
 
 Across the mournful marbles play : 
 
 Who hath not learned, in hours of faith 
 
 The truth to flesh and sense unknown, 
 
 That Life is ever lord of Death, 
 
 And Love can never lose its own." 
 
 — Whittier. 
 
"two bunches of violets" 89 
 
 Chapter 26. 
 
 Lower and weaker had grown the tones of 
 Elaine as she repeated the last few lines. They 
 were slowly said, however, and so distinct that 
 the father in the intensity of his feeling did 
 not notice their weakness. 
 
 The physician's ear, well trained, detected 
 both the gradually increased weakness of the 
 tones, and the very anxious look upon Elaine's 
 face betokening her own knowledge of her 
 condition, as she had not yet obtained her 
 father's promise. 
 
 Quietly advancing, and bidding by a motion 
 of his arm that Cordelia go to the little one, 
 who had been disregarded in Elaine's great 
 need, he gently took Elaine's arm from her 
 father's shoulder, feeling her pulse, and said, 
 "Man, whatever you have to say must be said 
 quickly." 
 
 Then Elaine, with the most beautiful smile 
 that the physician, in his almost life-long ex- 
 perience, had ever seen upon human counten- 
 ance at the entrance of the gates-ajar, heard 
 her father huskily mutter, "Somehow, some- 
 where, meet we must. In hours of faith, the 
 truth to flesh and sense unknown." 
 
 And then more huskily, "I promise, Elaine." 
 
 "Peace on Earth," was still resounding far 
 and wide through Elaine's native village, as 
 the father clung to her lifeless form, her beau- 
 tiful golden hair unbound, loosely surrounding 
 
90 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 her like waves of the sea, gilt rimmed by the 
 sunshine. 
 
 And the physician and Cordelia both looked 
 sadly at the beautiful little one, who had been 
 lifeless for several hours. "Only a few weeks 
 old," he was quietly saying to her. "Too 
 much exposure to frost," pointing to the win- 
 dows, heavily coated, "and too much exertion 
 through heavy drifts of snow," looking at 
 them, banked in some places nearly to the 
 height of the windows, and with a last linger- 
 ing glance at the shadow of Elaine. 
 
"two bunches of violets" 91 
 
 Sequel. 
 Chapter 27. 
 
 A year and a half have sHpped by since 
 Helen Loe was declared Mrs. Fairfax. On 
 this afternoon, which is a very warm, plea- 
 sant one, she, dressed very elaborately for a 
 lawn fete, enters their beautiful drawing- 
 room, sumptuously furnished in antique style 
 in mahogany and the latest shade of blue. 
 
 Her husband is carelessly reposing on a 
 softly cushioned sofa. On seeing her, he rises, 
 and then noticing the innumerable ruffles and 
 feathers, he remarks jocosely, "Certainly, 
 Helen, I'artiste has done all in her power for 
 you." 
 
 "I am so j)leased that you like it," came 
 from Helen quickly, disappointedly. She 
 would have liked a compliment as elaborate as 
 her attire. Ever since their marriage there 
 was always a ring to his pleasantries that 
 seemed to tell her she did not quite reach his 
 ideal. 
 
 Claire sat down, leaning slightly and grace- 
 fully against one of the cushions, and began to 
 lapse into indifference. Another habit of his 
 during this year and a half, which had gradu- 
 ally cooled Helen's ardent love, and she en- 
 deavored, as much as possible to satiate her 
 unsatisfied heart with compliments of gentle- 
 men of Claire's and her acquaintance, and the 
 society and worldly life and animation of their 
 companionship. 
 
92 ''two bunches of violets" 
 
 At last Helen broke the silence finally un- 
 endurable to her, but which Claire had not 
 even noticed was silence, for he had uncon- 
 sciously lapsed into dreaming of that sweet 
 simplicity of attire, of the one of his dream 
 of long ago, it now seemed to him, and he very 
 visibly started, as if one awakened, when 
 Helen remarked, "I am awaiting Mr. La- 
 bouche to accompany me to the fete, as you 
 said some time ago on my mentioning it, that 
 you would not care to go, but perhaps one of 
 our friends might be better pleased with this 
 style of amusement." 
 
 "Just so, Helen," answered Claire indiffer- 
 ently. "But, by the way, was not the name 
 always Labrouche, before the family took that 
 European tour?" 
 
 Then, not giving her time to answer, he ad- 
 vanced quickly to the window from which 
 there was a beautiful view of the river, enter- 
 ing with its wide mouth into the sea, "I'm off 
 for a sail for a few days. I feel just in the 
 mood of mingling my reveries and dreams 
 with the winds and the waters," and before 
 she was scarcely aware of it, he had very sud- 
 denly disappeared from her sight by stepping 
 out of the low window onto the porch, and 
 descending the steps, which led from the high 
 bluff to the river beneath, where his steam 
 launch was waiting. 
 
 Helen quickly stepped to the Romeo and 
 Juliet balcony, for really so it seemed that it 
 should be. But Love was not in the precinct 
 
"two bunches of violets" 93 
 
 of these romantic surroundings, and Helen 
 only saw Claire's attending sailor as the little 
 launch steamed away. For Claire had en- 
 tered the cabin, without a look or thought for 
 the fair lady on the balcony. 
 
94 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 28. 
 
 Throwing himself quickly into one of the 
 berths of the very small cabin Claire said to 
 his craftsman, '']eflry, do not disturb me 
 to-night. I am weary, and wish to sleep, with 
 my door open. I wish to enjoy the lovely 
 soft salt air breeze of the sea blowing upon 
 me. Mind, on no account do you disturb me." 
 
 Jeffrey felt the emphasis of his master's re- 
 mark, and bore it in mind during the night. 
 Claire had perfect confidence in his ability, as 
 manager of the small launch, for many cruises 
 had they taken on the sea together. "Aye, 
 aye, sir," fell from Jeffrey's lips, and then he 
 gave himself up to his duties and silence. 
 
 Was Claire happy? Somehow the soft 
 breezes did not soothe him as usual. He tossed 
 from side to side in his berth. This last pic- 
 ture of Helen indelibly impressed upon his 
 mind, seemed to bring before his eyes, one 
 after another, so many beautiful pictures of 
 the one of his dream, of her, whose simplicity 
 had always charmed him. "Why," he kept 
 saying to himself in his selfishness, "had she 
 not been content to stay where he had left her, 
 allowing him to come and go when he pleased ? 
 But now he was alone, lost without her, not 
 happy, no. 
 
 "She, yes, he had heard she had left the 
 little apartment. He supposed she had gone 
 to her father, back to that simple small town 
 
"two bunches of violets" 95 
 
 life. Why had she not been content to stay, 
 live for him alone, not for the world ?" 
 
 He never thought of Heaven. 
 
 Then a little jealous feeling possessed him, 
 as he remembered his first vision of Elaine. 
 **Yes," he supposed, **now, in time, she would 
 marry that fellow who had stood in the atti- 
 tude of protesting his love." And then his 
 self conceit said to him in its turn : "How 
 could she have deserted a fellow like himself, 
 who could, as he had told her, in time have 
 lavished so much expense upon her, for that 
 simple fellow? Why could he not have been 
 indulged in his dream?" 
 
 Then, at last, nature folded Claire in her 
 wings of power, and he lay asleep and the 
 darkness of the night wrapped itself all about 
 the little launch. 
 
96 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 29. 
 
 A very large excursion steamer was wend- 
 ing its way through the sea. A fog had very 
 suddenly and unexpectedly arisen above the 
 waters, and the crew on the steamer were ex- 
 ercising all vigilance possible, with the search- 
 light and fog horns. 
 
 Jefifry had fallen asleep; no, really he was 
 only nodding a little when he afterwards 
 strove to bring all to recollection, and when 
 he had commenced, the night was beautifully 
 clear. He was sitting up, he could remember, 
 near to the machinery. Then, awakening, a 
 slight haziness seemed to present itself to 
 his eyes, as he went on deck, and he was at 
 once on the alert. 
 
 He seemed to see a little light not very far 
 distant, and, fearing a steamer might be near, 
 he was about to call Mr. Fairfax, and then 
 the words, "on no account, do you disturb 
 me," came to him and he was just about to 
 laugh at himself for his lack of confidence in 
 his own ability; when, the haziness developed 
 into dense fog, the light could not be seen; 
 and, then, it seemed, but a moment — and, one 
 end of the launch, the cabin end, where Claire 
 was, was suddenly submerged. 
 
 The cry, "Ship Ahoy," was suddenly heard 
 by Jeffry, and he was lifted, from his end of 
 the launch uplifted in the water, into a little 
 boat ; then, into a large excursion steamer. 
 As he looked, crying to all on board to save 
 
TWO BUNCHES OF VIOLETS " 97 
 
 his Master Fairfax, he and all heard nothing, 
 saw nothing, only the top end of the little 
 launch's highest rigging. 
 
 With awe, the aroused sleepers, of the large 
 excursion steamer, stood on deck. Nay, many 
 knelt in prayer for the saving of the life of 
 the master in the dark waters. 
 
 But the life savers said, "It is all over. We 
 can do no more. Any other life on board has 
 been sucked by the water under the steamer." 
 
98 "two bunches of violets" 
 
 Chapter 30. 
 
 Then all hope of saving this man's "Master 
 Fairfax," was given up, and after all due ex- 
 citement had subsided, the steamer plied on- 
 ward for many hours, until she reached a very- 
 large city, depositing there her many passen- 
 gers, and diffusing the intelligence of the very 
 sad and much to be deplored, but unavoidable 
 accident. 
 
 Such a heavy fog, coming so suddenly upon 
 the sea, had not been known for years. But 
 for the future, fog horns would be blown more 
 often, and more searchlights would be used, 
 and these promises comforted to some extent 
 the hearts of many so disturbed by hearing of 
 the heart-rending catastrophe. 
 
 After a few days, and there had been time 
 for inqury into the private character of the 
 man, whose life had been ended in this world 
 without time for one thought for the next, the 
 rumors were circulated of a life, which had 
 always been given up to self-indulgence and 
 pleasure — never any necessity for work — one 
 might say, a useless life, never any thought of 
 doing good to that distressed half of the world 
 of which he had never formed a part. 
 
 After his marriage a large fortune had been 
 settled upon him by his mother, and his wife 
 was a very wealthy lady. 
 
 He had spent most of his life in the pleas- 
 ures of the sea. But charitable acts had been 
 non est, and this rumor was very light, per- 
 
"two bunches of violets" 99 
 
 haps without any foundation, but hearsay 
 spoke of some entanglement not altogether 
 creditable with a beautiful maiden, whom he 
 did not marry, as she did not belong to his 
 sphere. 
 
100 A GOLDEN DREAM 
 
 A GOLDEN DREAM. 
 
 Give to me an isle for a golden dream, 
 An isle which may never far away seem; 
 An isle which oceans never sweep away, 
 An isle which lives until the break of day. 
 
 For such I would be borne on the dark night 
 In a child's soul with its winged birds of flight, 
 Living yet once again in its night's play 
 A dream of a forest of yesterday. 
 
 Gently it swoops beneath the eaves of trees, 
 Dreamily bears itself midst rustling leaves ; 
 Wanders in the old time forest path, 
 Far from any rude word of the world's wrath. 
 
 In joy it lives in a perfect life 
 Far from an atmosphere of any strife ; 
 With joy the weird cries of the forest ring 
 Which to a child's soul its loved music bring. 
 
 It now is swept by the currents of sounds 
 But with an echoing sound it rebounds, 
 Surely I may be a strong, lovely tree 
 And not an island buried in the sea. 
 
 For I wish to live the same life as thee 
 That some day of strongest oak I may be. 
 Humbly fulfilling ev'ry earthly task, 
 Sowing seed the world's Creator would ask. 
 
A GARDEN FOR JUNE 101 
 
 Beautiful oak leaves now breathe within me, 
 Inspiring strength as you fall in your glee! 
 That at the autumnal age of my life 
 I may imbibe your blood wine for the strife. 
 
 When the winter crowns me with snow 
 Let there be then such joy as you must know ; 
 In might let me stand surveying the strands 
 Of acorns of His love in children's hands. 
 
 A GARDEN FOR JUNE. 
 
 Is there anyone who knows 
 
 Exactly the day 
 That this flower or that 
 
 Will put forth its rose? 
 
 It is better to gather 
 To June's flowery month, 
 Brother and sister 
 That live in the song 
 Of other month's weather. 
 
 O'er the world's heather 
 The wind blows all the year; 
 There is not a petal 
 That some Season's windmill 
 Will not render sere. 
 
 Kind Fortune's Windmill 
 
 This year your arrow point, 
 
 That I may to nature 
 
 In unison dedicate 
 
 The year's beauty joint. 
 
102 A ROSE BOWER 
 
 A ROSE BOWER. 
 
 A queen of a Rose Bower sang 
 Her sweetest melodies which rang 
 With echoes loud and clear and sweet 
 From a paved court-yard to a street. 
 
 'Neath curtain of green leaf and thorn 
 The sounds rang forth one early morn; 
 Perchance some stranger's ear to meet 
 Who would admiringly them greet. 
 
 Then from the turrets and towers low 
 Echoes of a rose chorus grow; 
 And with beat of cymbals and drums 
 A warrior on a steed comes. 
 
 With stature which is queer and gaunt, 
 Arched eyebrows and pointed beard haunt 
 The dreams of all who see his face 
 And form an old-time armor-case. 
 
 'Neath the steel is a heart of Love, 
 Searching for the carrier-dove 
 Hiding near a low portico 
 Wafting Cupid's letters below. 
 
 With an answering string and bow 
 Of Love's accents so sweet and low 
 The air with entreaties is rent 
 To fly from her rose-curtain tent. 
 
A ROSE BOWER 103 
 
 The Knight has a devoted friend 
 Who cannot encouragement lend; 
 Who says that thorns of a rose lead 
 Him to believe she is a friend. 
 
 With the soft wings of Cupid's dove 
 The Rose Queen comes out from above; 
 Nods of approval thus are lent 
 To a suitor of true intent. 
 
 But a beautiful deer is wont 
 To bring more riders to the front 
 Than can in time their booty gain ; 
 Some clashing steed meets Defeat's pain. 
 
 Other lovers with their drawn swords, 
 Wings of Cupid had blown towards 
 Rose Bower with intent to cull 
 Rose Queen with music's chanting lull. 
 
 Now as the deer with quickened ear 
 Lends to the chase of horseman near, 
 With flapping wings the dove thus waives 
 Her warrior to Bandit caves. 
 
 Wrest from the grasp of those stone walls 
 The beauty the Wild Rose enthralls ; 
 That stolen necklace bring to me 
 From that time forth your own I'll be. 
 
 Coquettishly from the town's wall 
 She glances at her courtier tall, 
 Jealously he leaves his queen there 
 While her courtiers Love's glances dare. 
 
104 A ROSE BOWER 
 
 The knight with his true friend departs 
 To win his queen's heart's prize he starts ; 
 Truest purity of Wild Rose 
 Shall be his own adorned one's pose. 
 
 The Steeds of Love and Friendship bend 
 Their footsteps in misty dawn's trend, 
 In windmills of roseate hope 
 In cynic's sails of creaking rope. 
 
 Faith and Doubt traverse mountain path, 
 Windmills turn into Dark Night's wrath, 
 Faith is bound by a bandit's rope, 
 While Doubt, asleep, breathes of no hope. 
 
 Faith bursts into such prayerful song 
 To Bandit to whom caves belong, 
 That crumbling wall of stone heart melts ; 
 Love from Bandit the Wild Rose wrests. 
 
 Then waking his quaking friend Doubt 
 To dream of miracle worked out; 
 With stolen necklace in his hand 
 Love blesses all the Bandit's band. 
 
 With throat of song not yet defied 
 By the world's weary even-tide, 
 The Rose Queen in her own domain. 
 Does now her courtiers entertain. 
 
 The music of the dancing leaves 
 Then to the Rose Queen's chorus cleaves, 
 And ere she sups the blight of night 
 Love's raptures sings to a brave knight. 
 
A ROSE BOWER 105 
 
 Preceded by his old friend Doubt 
 Who was in beHef grown quite stout, 
 True Love with dignity now comes 
 As bridegrooms do who wed fair ones. 
 
 When the Rose Queen will not believe 
 Bandit would let the Wild Rose leave, 
 To her with Cupid's wings 'tis blown, 
 Love's necklace to make her his own. 
 
 Proofs of True Love then do her force, 
 With laugh and kiss and no remorse, 
 A witness to her falsity; 
 A lawful wife she cannot be. 
 
 Wild Rose's necklace purity 
 
 To own is for all such as he ; 
 
 The town's winds of Rose Bower's tide 
 
 The knight now mockingly deride. 
 
 With his drawn sword he slowly rides 
 From white feathers at courtier's sides, 
 And with Friendship he does abide, 
 Defense of Life's receding tide. 
 
 He soon reaches the Desert Isle 
 Of Life to him as not worth while 
 And 'neath its blighted heavy yoke 
 Stands midst shadows of stoutest oak. 
 
 In Air Castle's Isle his heart dreams 
 Broken by True Love's sword it seems, 
 With Rose Queen's name last from his Lips 
 Knight's True Love Sword falls to Friendship. 
 
106 BLUE BELL AND ANEMONE 
 
 BLUE BELL AND ANEMONE. 
 
 Come, let us jingle in the dell 
 
 Midst forests which the woodmen fell ; 
 
 Midst pines and ferns uphold our heads 
 
 On stems that are of fine grass threads; 
 
 Midst scented air our music rear 
 
 O'er sloping hill-sides far and near. 
 
 Let us waft onward from the lea 
 Song of the flower of the sea, 
 That to our humble message sent 
 *Twill be an accompaniment. 
 "Must we forever lowly be," 
 Chant Blue Bell and Anemone? 
 
 The sea-air from the ocean strand 
 Mingles with that by pine boughs fanned 
 Perfumes the air of many climes 
 With ringing anthems and with chimes ; 
 'Till moon-lit strings of Cupid's bow 
 Are stretched by chords both high and low. 
 
 'Tis then he throws his poisoned dart 
 And cuts in twain a lover's heart. 
 " 'Tis Nature's destiny," says he, 
 "Your Hfe will ever lowly be." 
 "But I, a Bleeding Heart shall weep 
 For you on Earth and in the Deep." 
 
"pansy quartet" 107 
 
 "PANSY QUARTET." 
 
 A bunch of pansies 
 
 Was handed to me 
 It was in dark night 
 
 And I could not see. 
 
 I held them in hand 
 
 For some little time 
 Not dreaming in day 
 
 They would be rhyme. 
 
 Dropping them in water 
 
 In parlor vases 
 I thought the morning 
 
 Would bring fresh faces. 
 
 But I was busy 
 
 For at least two days 
 Forgot the pansies 
 
 Even for a gaze. 
 
 I then found singing 
 
 A little quartet, 
 "We are fresh you see 
 
 Forgotten to wet." 
 
 I felt the reproach 
 
 Of those that were left 
 Happy yet in strength 
 
 Not in life bereft. 
 
108 ''pansy quartet" 
 
 "In book I'll press you 
 I'll not forget you," 
 
 I said to the few, 
 For I'd found my cue. 
 
 And when I next looked 
 In that old scrap book 
 
 I began to rhyme 
 From that very time. 
 
 "You dear little band 
 Give to me your hand 
 
 Your song was so sweet 
 Now again we meet." 
 
 "Lavender and gold 
 Color of my mould. 
 
 Dark purple and white 
 Shades I think quite right. 
 
 Leader sang to me 
 As for distant tree 
 
 Then I looked at next 
 Listened for a text. 
 
 "My color is gold 
 
 Was always my mould 
 
 God gave this to me 
 'Twas his will to be." 
 
 "Gold illuminates 
 Purple of my mates 
 
 I have its fringes 
 
 Sang old time breezes." 
 
"red tulips" 109 
 
 "Quite light is my heart 
 
 Purple other part 
 Fourth elf sang to me 
 
 Then in a near tree." 
 
 I searched earth and sky 
 
 For I wished to try 
 To find hiding elves 
 
 That sang of themselves. 
 
 Leader stealthily 
 
 Sings these words to me 
 
 "Sing no more we can 
 We have lost 'Gold Fan !' " 
 
 "RED TULIPS." 
 
 The day was dull and dark and cold, 
 *Twas of Spring-time's earliest mold. 
 No joyous song of bird was heard ; 
 No verdant bough had tree unfurled ; 
 The sky was of dark gloomy grey 
 That seemed to Nature's life to say, 
 "There's not a Light that could pierce through 
 Such heavy laden cloudy hue." 
 
 World's Nature seemed without a hope, 
 
 Though dismantled of Winter's rope 
 
 Of snow and ice and winds that freeze 
 
 The tufted grass beneath the trees — 
 
 Without a hope of a new life 
 
 Though freed from Winter's bondage strife. 
 
 Hou could rejuvenation be 
 
 For Winter's season frozen tree? 
 
110 "red tulips" 
 
 What is so cold and stark and dead 
 Must be forged with that molten lead 
 That in the sky above's so drear ; 
 Reviving hand could not be near 
 From which it could regain its life 
 After such a War's battle strife. 
 So seemed the parting day to say 
 To Nature's soul life held at bay. 
 
 The day was done! 'Twas setting sun! 
 The tree's mill-race of Life was run ! 
 But hound-like midst that dull lead grey 
 Sprang rays like gleaming teeth that lay 
 Their tightened hold on Heaven's tent 
 And new life for the tree was rent. 
 Midst purple, red and gilt edged cloud 
 Shone Heaven's blue from vapor shroud. 
 
 'Twas portent of Spring-time's new life 
 To dawn after a night's dark strife, 
 And through Heaven's own golden ray 
 A tree's death mantle slips away. 
 Nature's true and soul-born flowers. 
 Red lips of the tulip bowers, 
 Illumine Earth with Heaven's bliss, 
 A soul's rejuvenation kiss. 
 
WILD FLOWERS AND VIOLETS 111 
 
 WILD FLOWERS AND VIOLETS. 
 
 Within the forest's cavern wall, 
 
 Within the hanging moss's pall, 
 
 Within the maze of leaflets sere 
 
 Cleaving to twigs and branches drear, 
 
 Midst trunks of trees in sea-weed surf 
 
 Of green velvet carpeted turf, 
 
 Midst the Earth's damp grief-striken leaves 
 
 In which a lone traveler weaves 
 
 Not e'en a keen Indian trail 
 
 Scented to a neighboring dale ; 
 
 To Winter enthralled in cold Death 
 
 A groping hand stretches with stealth 
 
 O'er the lyre of the Spring Song's tale, 
 
 On key-notes of fast falling hail. 
 
 In harmony of thunder show'r 
 
 With dread lightning's dense cloudy bow'r, 
 
 In splendor of the rainbows tint 
 
 With spectrum struck from stony flint 
 
 Of Winter's cold rule o'er the Earth ; 
 
 Red, orange, yellow wild flow'r birth 
 
 With green stems and with green leaflets 
 
 And blue, indigo violets. 
 
112 RED ROSE 
 
 RED ROSE. 
 
 This night of red rose ! 
 
 No darkness shall sear 
 The beautiful pose 
 
 Of twentieth year. 
 
 Each shows a year's life 
 Of the wedded bliss 
 
 Of forgotten strife 
 
 With seal of next kiss. 
 
 With our children dear, 
 Our friends the truest 
 
 United to hear 
 
 Words from Love's lips best. 
 
 A China Wedding! 
 
 I hear the near chimes, 
 A ting-a-ling-ting 
 
 In musical rhymes. 
 
 A girl eight years old. 
 The rattle's not seen 
 
 Our baby does hold 
 
 Soup plate's tambourine. 
 
 "My Dad's the dear man 
 
 Of all this land, 
 To Mama I'll fan 
 
 Heart beats of our band." 
 
LILACS 113 
 
 "In age I now stand 
 
 A mate to sister. 
 I live in Life's strand 
 
 Companion for her. 
 
 Yet older than she 
 
 With him we have fun, 
 A brother with glee 
 
 After us does run." 
 
 "And now another 
 
 I call him giant, 
 Our oldest brother 
 
 Now self-reliant." 
 
 "The music now sends 
 The toasts for this night 
 
 Of tried and true friends. 
 Nor more roses bright." 
 
 LILACS. 
 
 O, way down there under the lilacs, 
 The bushes are now almost trees 
 
 I seem to see hovering about them 
 A strong boy much under his teens. 
 
 Luminous eyes are upon me, 
 They can never far away seem. 
 
 Lilacs are forever upon them. 
 Bushes are evergreen I deem. 
 
114 BABY FACE AND LILY OF THE VALLEY 
 
 The sun did not always smile on us, 
 
 The shadows reached the heart at e'en, 
 
 But morning brought renewed endeavor, 
 Forgetfulness night had it been. 
 
 The beauty of the flowers greater, 
 
 The rain could only fall with pleasure, 
 
 For it knew that after the storm, 
 They were even more a pleasure. 
 
 O, flowers which come back each season, 
 Forever with a bright, fresh team. 
 
 May this boy and I look upon you 
 For vigor as we row life's stream. 
 
 BABY FACE AND LILY OF THE 
 VALLEY. 
 
 Green and white are the colors, 
 "My Brother and My Sisters," 
 May there be for us today 
 Sunshine's very brightest ray. 
 
 But this morning we had shadow, 
 Nay, t'was more, it was a foe. 
 Some one on our dainty bed 
 Unconscious lay heavy tread. 
 
 Baby- face was but injured. 
 And not entirely immured, 
 Mother goes with all that fall 
 When there is ambulance call. 
 
TIGER LILY 115 
 
 Then she tells us to be bright, 
 He will watch us with His might ; 
 Baby-face will soon be well 
 Then again in place she fell. 
 
 So my Lily-bell ring on 1 
 May the sound never be gone 
 That to the Baby-face brings 
 Joy and gladness as he rings. 
 
 Let us now begin our spread 
 For each little baby head ; 
 Nothing should mar birthday joy 
 Is the thought of girl and boy. 
 
 "White crown was upon her head," 
 Lily-bell to himself said, 
 "Baby-face my heart enthralled 
 The hospital of this year called." 
 
 "Come next year, my Baby- face 
 Help me in all life year's race ; 
 I, Lily of the Valley 
 Birthday glee shall ring for thee." 
 
 TIGER LILY. 
 
 My Tiger Lily in bloom 
 During last days of June, 
 Your dagger within you bent 
 With determined intent, 
 To pierce as quiet you lie 
 June's month into July ! 
 
116 BACHELOR BUTTONS 
 
 Prancing position you take 
 Not one in the least tame, 
 Lest someone should penetrate 
 Your dense jungle of hate 
 Tall sun-gilded grassy sheaves 
 Close to the cherry trees ! 
 
 Beautiful tawny shade stripes 
 Those that all the world likes, 
 Held in a lily-cup bell 
 No sound from which does knell, 
 Death note of blade of grass beneath. 
 Where should be your prey's wreath! 
 
 But with a stealthy spring 
 Lily leaves from earth's hinge, 
 Encircling are not now loath 
 To devour grassy growth, 
 Tiger Lilies' tall stalks heap 
 Seeds they will in time reap ! 
 
 Not long ere time will be nigh 
 
 July by June defied. 
 
 Sword of Tiger fully blown 
 
 Will lay low with its own, 
 
 The grass sword blades in its place 
 
 From earth's hinge interlace ! 
 
 BACHELOR BUTTONS. 
 Small flower with various dainty colors of 
 
 delicate hues. 
 By their name to children bring thoughts that 
 
 amuse. 
 As they pick them they are careful to not lose 
 One from a bouquet to be put in a cruse. 
 
FORGET-ME-NOT BOUQUET 117 
 
 Of the gorgeous flower world these are cher- 
 ished rings of rows of pearls, 
 
 Which can not be worn by any of the girls 
 
 For as their own flower world around them 
 whirls, 
 
 Can it match Bachelor Buttons it unfurls? 
 
 FORGET-ME-NOT BOUQUET. 
 
 Spray of Forget-me-not ; 
 
 Daintiest of all ferns, 
 Of what else I know not 
 
 Encased in silver urn. 
 
 Do you see that pearl pin? 
 
 It is not on the top. 
 For my heart 'tis struck in, 
 
 'Tis not a real dewdrop. 
 
 Let me tell all my kin 
 Weather devastates dew. 
 
 Can you hear amid din? 
 Pearl heart is ever new. 
 
 FLAGS. 
 
 "All of them are out. 
 Scattered all about; 
 
 Tomorrow morning 
 Them for you I'll rout.' 
 
118 MY LADY PINK ROSE 
 
 The flags stood erect, 
 
 My dresser they decked. 
 
 A lady brought them 
 And then she had left. 
 
 Purple and yellow, 
 Have you any foe ? 
 
 I hope that this 
 
 You may never know. 
 
 My faith I you trow, 
 I am sure you know. 
 
 Although you may fall 
 You are never low. 
 
 The iris brings bliss. 
 You can never miss, 
 
 As fast as one furls 
 There are more to kiss. 
 
 MY LADY PINK ROSE. 
 
 She had clambered through the days of sum- 
 mer on a trailing vine. 
 
 Heat had fully developed her in the beauty of 
 her line. 
 
 Hers was the crown of ancestral family bliss. 
 
 Living at the top of a near window trellis. 
 
MY LADY PINK ROSE 119 
 
 Sitting in silvery rays of moonlight of a sum- 
 mer night, 
 
 Visions present the rose as a mystic neighbor 
 lady bright. 
 
 She is transfused with the purest white moon- 
 beam rays, 
 
 Shedding light to an invalid of many days. 
 
 Daintily seeming to tread the steps of high 
 
 ladder treUis, 
 She looks at me as if there was something that 
 
 she would fain miss, 
 She asks, "Is there anything that I can do to 
 
 bring 
 The elastic movement your steps once seemed 
 
 to sing? 
 
 Leaning on the window ledge watching the 
 moonlit sky and her, 
 
 I scanned the twinkling stars and the man in 
 the moon as it were ; 
 
 "These," I said, "are ever the same, they ap- 
 pear again, 
 
 By no energy of nature are they ever slain." 
 
 "They are ever helpful after dark cold and 
 
 bitter or wet night ; 
 Soon with a bright sympathy they meet us and 
 
 cheer us by their light ; 
 My steps with lively music never more ring 
 But silvery tunes "My Lady Pink Rose" will 
 
 ever bring. 
 
120 POND LILY 
 
 POND LILY. 
 
 Upon its mirrored dell 
 The pond lily's leaf fell, 
 Once a folded sheaf 
 Of a large curved leaf 
 It had kept from the reef 
 Of the sun's hottest glare 
 Its lily-bud 
 'Twas hidden there. 
 
 It is now strong enough 
 To not wilt with rebuff; 
 Redhot iron rays 
 Will help with their blaze 
 As they whiten the sand 
 O'er all the seashore's world, 
 To give its bud 
 White petals curled. 
 
 The lily-leaf lies flat 
 As in a circle mat ; 
 It rests now with ease, 
 Only feels the breeze 
 Of the water's caress 
 That's held within the folds 
 Of stagnant pools 
 In seaweed dress. 
 
 Life's energies tied! 
 While youth at its side 
 In beauty will now thread 
 Its soft petals to tread 
 
POND LILY 121 
 
 Clearer surface waters 
 Further from the confines 
 Of any limit 
 Of its borders. 
 
 It will sway to and fro, 
 With any wind 'twill blow ; 
 By storms it is caught, 
 With strength they are fought, 
 Its beauty has increased, 
 When the seal of success 
 Is Nature's crown 
 Of pure white down. 
 
 Ripples may come some day 
 To it will bring the sway 
 Of some one quite near, 
 Who will hold it dear 
 In intense enjoyment 
 Of delicate perfume 
 Of lily-bloom 
 From old leaf rent. 
 
 Age gazes at the place 
 Of its own gilded race; 
 It is far away 
 A beautiful day ; 
 It lives in filmy gauze, 
 It is admired by all; 
 The parent's stem 
 Espoused its cause. 
 
122 SUN-FLOWER 
 
 SUN-FLOWER. 
 
 With the golden fluttering edges close by 
 Was hidden a very large round brown eye 
 It was with weight that the head was bent 
 Upon caring for manifold seeds intent. 
 
 A storm had made the fluttering edges frown, 
 Eyelid of brown eye, petals curled down ; 
 Wind from the sky shook the petals dry. 
 They awoke with a start and a leaflet's sigh. 
 
 With the strength given by the sun in the sky 
 The head was lifted when noon drew nigh; 
 The seeds were ripened with the sun's warm 
 
 ray 
 To be dropped in earth's bed for flowers next 
 
 day. 
 
 Hark ! All ye of power in this world's domain. 
 Emerge from war's discouragement's pain. 
 Let zephyrs assail you, God's love nigh. 
 Sunflower and its seeds are living close by. 
 
 DAISY. 
 
 White fringes and gold. 
 The story's told; 
 The prairies love her 
 For June's cover. 
 
THE WIND-MILL 123 
 
 Gold is her dower, 
 Purity her bower, 
 The children advance. 
 Around her dance. 
 
 They love to pick her, 
 Sometimes incur 
 School tardy mark's wrath 
 For bouquet's path. 
 
 "Ting-a-ling-ling !" 
 Hear the bell ring! 
 But still children hold 
 Pure white and gold. 
 
 The old story's told, 
 Never grows old 
 Held by His purity 
 "Storm of the Sea." 
 
 THE WIND-MILL. 
 
 The wind-mill turns while this world's life 
 
 Pursues its busy hum of strife ; 
 
 The arrow turns North, South, East, West, 
 
 At the fluctuating behest 
 
 Of varying currents of air 
 
 Through the sky's mystic cloudy lair. 
 
 Through Nature's mysterious way 
 
 The air and wind come to the day ; 
 
 'Neath its sunny or cloudy eye 
 
 The trees o'er the world breathe or sigh. 
 
 Or in a warring storm they fall 
 
 And lie lowly in their death pall. 
 
124 A CLOUDY MORN 
 
 In the world's fprest thus storm swept 
 Sometimes not e'en a tear is wept; 
 Ere the force of the storm is spent 
 There is no soothing rain-drip sent, 
 Though 'neath heavy cloud-laden sky 
 The aggrieved forest would fain cry. 
 
 But when the winds have rolled away 
 The massive clouds of black and grey ; 
 Then comes the dawn of sunshine might 
 Piercing the forest with its light, 
 And here and there the pure gold lays 
 Of reflection of the sun's rays. 
 
 In Nature's fallen trunks of trees 
 Are raised shafts to Life's memories; 
 Thou warriors ruthlessly slain 
 Thy heart's strength cut by war in twain 
 Thy shadowed life of loved brethren 
 Is Heaven's image to all men. 
 
 A CLOUDY MORN. 
 
 I rose in the early morn 
 Of the dark night shadows shorn 
 But some clouds had not been torn 
 And the day looked tired and worn. 
 The storm very quickly burst 
 The strong winds appeared at first 
 But the earth was so athirst 
 Torrents of rain were the worst. 
 
THE FISHER BOY 125 
 
 "Red road in front of our cot 
 You have never looked so hot 
 I watched when the first rain dot 
 From the heavy clouds you got." 
 
 All the cherries on the trees 
 The green and the yellow leaves 
 Rain drops form the cottage eaves 
 In a dower of diamonds weaves. 
 
 In a beautiful large tree 
 On a hill in front of me 
 A sylvan elf there might be 
 That has hold of nature's key. 
 
 When the trees upon the hills 
 Wave and turn like wind mills 
 The dark storm the blue sky kills 
 With soft breezes the air fills. 
 
 Day has had its refreshment 
 
 Joy to the world has been lent 
 
 The clouds have all been storm spent 
 
 Nature's anger was thus rent. 
 
 THE FISHER BOY 
 
 Standing on the shore 
 
 Is a little fisher boy. 
 He is astride 
 Watching the tide. 
 
 Do not him annoy ! 
 
126 THE FISHER BOY 
 
 Very searchingly 
 
 He is looking far and wide. 
 
 To sea he'll go, 
 
 Fish line's his tow, 
 He tells Dad aside. 
 
 Neath sun's hottest rays, 
 Father and he on the pier, 
 
 Throw out the line 
 
 That will in time 
 Dispel all his fear. 
 
 Navy's flag on the pole. 
 
 Five pointed stars on blue ground, 
 
 They do entice, 
 
 It will be nice, 
 A soldier grave's mound. 
 
 He does like the sound 
 To him it is musical 
 
 He had been brave 
 
 Him the world gave 
 Fame universal. 
 
 The fisher boy has gone! 
 
 But a short life's race and run! 
 
 Long life's power 
 
 In His dower 
 May "Thy will be done." 
 
BOUNCING BESS 127 
 
 BOUNCING BESS. 
 
 Nature ! Thou mysterious loom ! 
 Spin with thy finest threads thy doom. 
 From thy spray make thy finest weave 
 On each shore thy impression leave, 
 In the slipping and sliding sand 
 Cleaving every Fatherland. 
 
 On the shore-line now travel on 
 
 Forever weaving, never wan. 
 
 E*en though the mist shall shroud thy sight, 
 
 Let not thee receive its full blight. 
 
 With thy needle firm in thy hand 
 
 Make thy impression in the sand. 
 
 In the full darkness of the night 
 Yet press, press gnward in the fight. 
 Though a storm with its billows high 
 Makes thee to heave and roll and sigh 
 Steady, steady though without sleep 
 In thy hand firm thy needle keep. 
 
 If the world's battles are yet on 
 In the earliest hours of dawn. 
 In the great surging billows place 
 Thy heart's loom to win the last race. 
 Courage 1 Courge ! Be now thy star, 
 Guiding thy loom riding afar. 
 
 Press onward with thy mortal fight 
 In the morning hours of the light 
 If thy needle's work is the right 
 
128 T«E WIGWAM 
 
 Work it with all of thy loom's might, 
 E'en though with courage thee may die 
 In thy hand let thy needle lie. 
 
 Ever some soldier there will spy 
 
 Thy loom and needle at its hie; 
 
 To its caressing foam and spray 
 
 Will at the feet of Nature lay 
 
 His life, if need be, none the less 
 
 Neath loom-like fields of Bouncing Bess. 
 
 THE WIGWAM. 
 
 Irregular in line they stood 
 
 The sturdy tall trees of the wood, 
 
 The sapling underbrush close by 
 
 With uplifted arms to the sky, 
 
 In hope that its strength might some day 
 
 Live in Nature's mature array 
 
 Of dark and mossy spotted trunks 
 
 Oft cleft that to dryads and monks 
 
 And elves of centuries of lore 
 
 The secret hiding places bore. 
 
 One night a golden moon arose, 
 
 And lit the forest in its pose 
 
 Of leaflets of youthful saplings. 
 
 Of needles grown of spruce-pine rings. 
 
 Of leafy boughs of riper age. 
 
 Of ripped bark of fairy adage. 
 
 Of youthful ardor and of vim 
 
 Of strength and Life's mysticism, 
 
 Through paths of dried and sunburned leaves 
 
 Beneath a forest's wigwam's eaves. 
 
ELDER BERRY 129 
 
 Dark shadows and gold moon-beams 
 Through the forest's enchanted dell, 
 And breezes whistling through the trees 
 Were echoed by whispering leaves, 
 Whose hushed voices fell on the dead 
 Withered leaves in the paths and said, 
 "For our loved wigwam we repair 
 Your waste as you lie in your lair; 
 'Twill not be long, 'twill be our price 
 To give our strength in sacrifice." 
 
 ELDER-BERRY. 
 
 A billowy sea 
 Swaying before me, 
 Five pointed white stars 
 Imprinted on Heaven's blue gaze, 
 In Summer's morning 
 When there is no haze. 
 
 All the blue sky sees 
 
 Stars of Elder-berries, 
 
 Five pointed white as snow 
 
 In many clusters raised on poles. 
 
 Five blossoms in each 
 
 Mold seed vessel holes. 
 
 Pretty humming bird 
 
 The sweet blossoms gird. 
 
 Sipping with his beak 
 
 Food which to his nest he'll take, 
 
 Elder-berry's branch 
 
 He'll now forsake. 
 
130 ELDER BERRY 
 
 He's received pontoons 
 
 From Nature's looms, 
 
 He'll flit now and fly 
 
 Humming as the bee with his train 
 
 Eagerly follows 
 
 Aero hydroplane. 
 
 He lights on the wire 
 Of the vines, tuned lyre, 
 Strung of tender strings 
 That to it the tendrils may win, 
 Entangled in lair 
 Humming's rare din. 
 
 In winter's morning 
 
 No stars adorning 
 
 Blue heaven's white haze, 
 
 Billowy sea, crystals on lea, 
 
 The flag poles rent. 
 
 War storms on the sea! 
 
 Humming bird long ago 
 
 Had been laid very low, 
 
 Once again in flight 
 
 By Winter's night it had been caught, 
 
 Elder-berry's verse 
 
 To world will be naught. 
 
THE PINES 131 
 
 THE PINES. 
 
 From the spreading boughs of the trees 
 The birds chirp merrily at ease ; 
 Every morn at rising hour 
 They fly into their piney bow'r, 
 And with the music of their lay 
 Inspire the first thoughts of the day. 
 
 The morning's bugles thus erase 
 
 The dreams of night that they encase ; 
 
 For in echoing silver strains 
 
 Are lost the darkest night's refrains, 
 
 And in the song bird's sweetest tales 
 
 The day is launched with silver sails. 
 
 Midst silver stars and bluest seas, 
 Midst ripples dancing on the leas, 
 Midst silver sheen the day sets sail 
 To water's musical bewail 
 Of weeping maidens lost to sight. 
 Mermaids attired in gauzy light. 
 
 Gilt and dark leaf the spiders leave 
 In phantom nets of silver weave ; 
 As Day's mermaids with silver oars 
 Dip sunlight and shadowy shores, 
 Where on sand bluffs the tallest pines 
 Guard them in their sentinel lines. 
 
 In Ship's ethereal array 
 
 Is days destined to sail away? 
 
 In pines strong in shadowy might 
 
132 EVENING LIGHT 
 
 Are sylvan maids concealed from sight? 
 How dost thou deem to fade away? 
 Wilt thou tell us ? Oh ! Ship of Day ! 
 
 Ah! Then again we hear the lay 
 The words the silver bugles say. 
 But no longer wrens sing the song 
 That now the whip-poor-wills prolong. 
 Whose sweet clear tones in azure light 
 Echo the day into the night. 
 
 EVENING LIGHT. 
 
 The earth was blessed with Heaven's dew 
 
 Of silence which over it grew ; 
 
 The world's looms ceased their busy whirrs 
 
 When sun-flowers enclosed their burrs; 
 
 The fisherman drew in his line a 
 
 Which he wound on his reel of twine ; 
 
 The ripples lapped the river shores 
 
 With homeward bound travelers' oars ; 
 
 The gulls flew in the golden wake 
 
 Of sunset over sea and lake ; 
 
 Rocking of ocean cradles lay 
 
 In seething and whispering^ spray ; ' 
 
 Dumb animals slept in the bow'r 
 
 Of dimness of the twilight hour; 
 
 No light approaching from afar 
 
 Appeared the Heaven's brightest star 
 
 From whose harp strings, sweetest e'er strung, 
 
 Silver Evening Light was wrung. 
 
EVENING STAR 133 
 
 EVENING STAR. 
 
 The night's evening shades are drawing nigh 
 To kill the luminous light of the sky 
 Whose beaut'ous tints near the horizen stay- 
 in gorgeous beauty at the end of day. 
 
 Shadows tinge loved tints with pitiless cold 
 Then Night with bold fingers does them enfold 
 The stories of some days are not finished 
 Victories of the light are relinquished. 
 
 Shooting stars fretted by their prison bars 
 Break from their cells as if they're iron cars 
 And ride through unknown space leaving no 
 
 trace 
 Of the future places they wish to grace. 
 
 Lost forever in the sky's firmanent 
 By impatent hazardous fevers bent 
 Adherence to their own might have them 
 
 blown 
 A light to Heaven as Venus is known. 
 
 The appointed herald of the moonlight 
 Which in victory vanquishes the night 
 She is forever brightest in her glow 
 Lovers in her near light do plight their trow. 
 
 Night never comes to Humanity's Day 
 That can not be lit by a moonbeam's ray 
 Its ev'ning shades, with iron door ajar, 
 Are lit by the flame of the Ev'ning Star. 
 
134 
 
 "BALKAN KILKISH." 
 
 I awoke one morning early 
 Naught had disturbed my ease 
 It had been but peaceful forgetfulness 
 Of all that the busy world weaves. 
 
 I saw through an open window 
 Golden rift in the sky 
 It was sailing as a golden vessel 
 In hope with a storm close by. 
 
 It led me to scan the landscape 
 To peer at the tall trees 
 That stood like many sentinel dryads 
 As yet not swayed by the breeze 
 
 Then appeared a maize of soldiers 
 Of many yesterdays 
 Only smaller trees in reality 
 Coming to an acute gaze. 
 
 I was in the thickest woodland 
 
 Of hand to hand fight small trees 
 
 The storm from heights descending upon them 
 
 Had scarcely disturbed their leaves. 
 
 The flames from fast falling lightning 
 Lashing tongues were naught to them 
 In might so closely wedged together 
 Their garments they only touched the hem. 
 
THE soldier's LAMENT 135 
 
 But wandering from the valley 
 Ravines were now the magnets 
 The wailing strongly storm spent fir trees 
 Felled by nature's grenade lancets. 
 
 The victorious vanishing 
 No sad lone pine tree not pursued 
 The sky's dark angry looking cloud burst 
 Seems yet anxious for another feud. 
 
 But it is suddenly gilt rimmed 
 
 The golden sun sailing by 
 
 May all battles like Balkan Kilkish 
 
 In the light of His Son forever pass by. 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S LAMENT. 
 
 In rainbow tints that will rebound, 
 Diamonds sparkling in the ground 
 Are ever loved by all the world 
 For the colors they have unfurled. 
 A distant forest dark and drear 
 Sends the sad message of a tear, 
 Dropped from a dying soldier's eye 
 'Tis one of earth's dew-drops near by. 
 
 With joy it lays its life down here 
 
 Beneath the leaves both dry and sere. 
 
 No tinge of fear is in the crest 
 
 Of heart foam sheathed in armored breast 
 
 Of duty done to God and home. 
 
 The fireside where the last thoughts roam, 
 
 The Christmas pines that never fail 
 
 To hear a missing one's bewail. 
 
136 GOLDEN ROD 
 
 By enemies' explosives fed 
 
 The trenches are alive with dead ; 
 
 The cannonade is not yet stilled, 
 
 The air with shot and shell is filled ; 
 
 In wreaths of smoke the trees are tossed 
 
 Wrapped in shrouds of Life's valor lost; 
 
 But above all is that dread mist, 
 
 Loved ones searching Christmas death list. 
 
 GOLDEN ROD. 
 
 We roam through fields of golden rod 
 
 Which wave and ever sweetly nod 
 
 And beckon midst wild grasses tall 
 
 To us, while round about us fall 
 
 The soldiers of the whole world's pride, 
 
 Who die as brothers side by side 
 
 United in the happy thought 
 
 That their treasure cannot be bought 
 
 Of priceless gems set in a crown 
 
 Of country's life not yet put down. 
 
 Joyful is all Life's sacrifice 
 E'en though it be Death's darksome price. 
 If at the end we reach the goal 
 The dearest of all to the soul. 
 Yet, why let the wild grasses grow 
 That we must the golden rod mow 
 Of Nations' bone and sinew strength, 
 Might there be none for us at length ? 
 
SHADOWS 137 
 
 With Golden-rods* beautiful glow 
 
 May Nations' gentle peace seeds sow 
 
 Of country's love without dissent, 
 
 Of wild anger forever rent 
 
 Of the desire with deadly mow 
 
 To entirely destroy its foe. 
 
 By world's rivalry is not meant 
 
 That destruction should thus be sent. 
 
 But each one striving for the best 
 
 Gives to world's strength its greatest test. 
 
 SHADOWS. 
 
 Beneath the cottage porch's eaves, 
 Within the shadows of the leaves 
 Entwining it with a sweet grace 
 Vines with Love's tendrils interlace 
 The thoughts of one with ear intent 
 And eye of Nature ever bent 
 To hear and see its bugles ring. 
 Of buzzing flies and birds that sing 
 With joy to which there's no alloy 
 Of discordant sound to annoy. 
 While sitting watching idly by 
 Where God to us on Earth is nigh. 
 
 For with the scented country breeze 
 Wafted from a hill's forest trees, 
 There comes to all a whisper low 
 Of unknown Presence all may know 
 Who live a life of that sweet trust 
 Which ev'ry bird and flower must 
 
138 THE prisoner's CHRISTMAS 
 
 That lives within shadowy eaves 
 Of blending boughs and forest leaves, 
 And knows that time when joy is nigh 
 Is when the sunlight from the sky 
 Gives it the blessing of Life's might 
 God's gift to those who love His Light. 
 
 THE PRISONER'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Years, years ago I was a little child, 
 Born in a shepherd's hut on a hill side. 
 Life then to me was an enchanted dell, 
 To-day I pen the picture of Life's Hell. 
 
 "Dark is the prison-hole that I am in ; 
 There's nothing here that is to joy akin. 
 O'er the old hill side a Christmas bell rang 
 Here is the rattle of my pal's chain gang. 
 
 "Many's the year I've worked on public roads 
 Breaking up the stones of many car loads ; 
 Thus speechless I've stood at the Christmas- 
 tide 
 With orders to speak to none at my side. 
 
 "This year I'm a crippled enfeebled man, 
 'Tis sure to not live much longer I can 
 With work given to me in this locked cell ; 
 I wish I'd listened to the Christmas bell. 
 
 "But with the strength of impetuous youth 
 I struck a man down for some words uncouth. 
 A stalwart country shepherd's build was mine 
 Soon he lay dead there by that old grape vine. 
 
CONVOCATION 139 
 
 "He was not a man of my humble caste, 
 Judgment's grappling irons soon held me fast. 
 My name was taken from me in this life, 
 A number given for the prison strife. 
 
 "Endless was my imprisonment to be 
 There was no repentance for such as me. 
 This world's judgment seat was hard and rigid, 
 My heart was to be of earthly hopes rid. 
 
 "But now as I think of that Christmas bell 
 
 Did I ever hear in it such a knell; 
 
 With Time's repentance would Heaven's gates 
 
 close 
 To sinners before Him in kneeling pose?" 
 
 CONVOCATION. 
 
 Herald thou ! Peony king ! 
 To thee we bring all flowers 
 'Tis a beautiful bower 
 In which you tower 
 With these encircling. 
 
 We bring thee many blossoms 
 A gay canopy is yours 
 Season's colors march in file 
 Thou viewest meanwhile 
 As each slowly comes. 
 
140 CONVOCATION 
 
 A most reverent bow 
 Which is very natural 
 Each one to the king makes 
 When blossom bud takes 
 What is't to endow. 
 
 We are very proud of you 
 Waved flowers from their bower 
 As to the memories renew 
 When the old winds blew 
 King gave them their dew. 
 
 Smiles from the procession file 
 Make hearts of old flowers glad 
 Then from ivy-covered wall 
 Sounds of applause fall 
 Echoes heard a mile. 
 
 Scarlet of rare poppy's red 
 Color of hood among men 
 With head bent calls once again 
 Those the king would ken 
 Honored flower bed. 
 
 Bids music lend to the winds 
 Her charms obey his commands 
 As these in their pride advance 
 And with slow entrance 
 Nature's choicest binds. 
 
 With these puts on some like gown 
 And hood of beautiful hue 
 As courtiers stand in a ring 
 Of other realm's king 
 Of far college town. 
 
CONVOCATION 141 
 
 Fairest columbine reviewed 
 In thoughts of those far away 
 Where dinging ivy now stands 
 In beautiful strands 
 Close to stone walls nude 
 
 King expresses his desire 
 "Baccalaureate Address" 
 He takes Jack in Pulpit stand 
 Among his gay band 
 And uses his lyre. 
 
 Horticultural intent's 
 Today's tide is at high ebb 
 Co-operation in cause 
 Antiseptic gauze 
 Will you give a pence? 
 
 There are none in world so dense 
 But that we might them impale 
 Canary Peony bring 
 That these walls may ring 
 Sing Brother Sing, Hence 
 
 Like some pure white butterfly 
 With a touch of yellow hue 
 As with vari-colored bands 
 The canary stands 
 Flitting a good bye. 
 
 Among vari-colored hue 
 Marching season's gay ribbands 
 Insignia of their corps 
 Sings to one he wore 
 "To you I'll be true." 
 
142 CONVOCATION 
 
 This is ringing in the air 
 It is not so long ago 
 That I found upon a reef 
 A pretty fern leaf 
 In rose boutoniere. 
 
"FLEETING VISIONS." 
 Chapter 1. 
 
 An invitation was extended to me to a re- 
 ception, in the art-rooms of my native city. 
 After an acknowledgment of the kindness 
 of the receiving ladies, I passed from one 
 room to another, looking at the collection of 
 pictures with intense enjoyment, until at 
 length, physically weary, I sat down in front 
 of two pictures, whose complete dissimi- 
 larity, and yet neighboring vicinity attracted 
 my attention. 
 
 One was a sea-scene representing mothers' 
 and children's enjoyment of bathing pleas- 
 ures; its neighbor, a war-scene. 
 
 I was surprised by a delicately beautiful 
 lady suddenly pausing before the identical 
 pictures so interesting to me. It was only 
 for a minute that she thus stood, but long 
 enough for me to notice the rich complexion 
 change, as a youth of very fine appearance 
 joined her, a quick recovery of self, an im- 
 pulsive clasp of his hand, and disappearance 
 from the view of the two pictures. 
 
 A few years later, I was lying on a bam- 
 boo settee on the large piazza of a small 
 summer cottage, enjoying the beauty of na- 
 ture surrounding me. The sky was of a 
 beautiful deep blue, a bird twittered in one 
 of the forest trees on the small hill, which 
 
144 
 
 rose from the road in front of me, and, at a 
 short distance, the waves were enjoying their 
 daily playfulness on the sands, sending the 
 echoing sounds to my ears. 
 
 The bird suddenly flew, from the pretty 
 forest hill-side, into a little tree close to the 
 road, and thence into the tall grass of a 
 neighboring meadow-land, picking from the 
 earth crumbs, and then lending its wings to 
 flight into the beautiful, warm, sunshiny 
 depths above. 
 
 "The World." 
 Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World, 
 With the wonderful water round you curled, 
 And the wonderful grass upon your breast — 
 World, you are beautifully drest! 
 
 The wonderful air is over me. 
 And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree; 
 It walks on the water and whirls the mills, 
 And talks to itself on the top of the hills. 
 
 You friendly Earth, how far do you go, 
 With the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers 
 
 that flow. 
 With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles, 
 And people upon you for thousands of 
 
 miles ? 
 
 Ah, you are so great and I am^ so small, 
 I tremble to think of you, World, at all ; 
 And yet, when I said my prayers to-day, 
 A whisper inside me seemed to say. 
 
"fleeting visions" 145 
 
 "You are more than the Earth, though you 
 are such a dot; 
 
 You can love and think, and the Earth can- 
 not." 
 
 — Lilliput Levee. 
 
 "Cuckoo!" I heard very faintly the cot- 
 tage parlor clock strike, and then — 
 
 I seemed to be with a very large sea-bird, 
 far away in a different clime, of tropical 
 growth, even a bluer sky, of snow-capped 
 mountains, smoking volcanoes, and we were 
 close to a surging sea, in the top-most 
 branches of beautifully spreading trees, look- 
 ing down at the figures of a very few people 
 on the lower branches. 
 
 As I looked a little higher into a bluff, I 
 saw a beautiful villa, and then I knew that I 
 was in some private summer resting place of 
 some one of high distinction, and, as I gazed 
 again, I saw the face of the lady, whom I 
 had once seen in the art-rooms, and children 
 were lying on the spreading boughs of the 
 trees around her. She was smiling at some 
 of the children's sayings, and the bright light 
 of happiness, spreading over her features, 
 gave her an air of sublimity in her easy pose 
 among the beauties of nature. 
 
 But, suddenly, a look of care came, and I 
 saw her lightly jump from the branches of 
 the trees, and hasten to the water's edge. 
 With her hand, lifted to her forehead, to 
 protect her eyes from the searching rays of 
 
146 "fleeting visions" 
 
 the sun, she scanned the beautifully green 
 tinted waves with their foaming spray, until, 
 after a light waving of her arm to some dis- 
 tant object on the water, I, at last, saw that 
 some one was moving toward her, and, fin- 
 ally, a young man of noble mien, her son, 
 for so I heard her call him, the youth, whom 
 I had once seen with her, came out of the 
 waves. According to the impulse of her 
 warm, loving nature, typical of her country, 
 she threw her arms about him, and then, 
 quickly releasing, looked at him radiantly. 
 
 The bird flew to the villa, and perched at 
 eventide, where the beautiful library and its 
 occupants were visible. At the table close to 
 the lady sat her husband. I knew this at 
 once from the resemblance of the young 
 man. The father held a paper crunched 
 tightly, and he watched her closely, as he 
 spread it before her, I saw that it had an 
 official appearance, and, that even the father, 
 of the strongest appearance in both form 
 and character, visibly trembled with strong 
 suppressed emotion. 
 
 I now saw an ashen hue spread over the 
 mother's delicate beauty, and, as he clasped 
 her hand firmly in his fear for her, and both 
 heads bowed as if in silent prayer, he said, 
 "Our son must leave our home to-night, 
 for a foreign port, to fulfill his duty as com- 
 mander in the navy. Our country has been 
 attempting to avert partaking in this war of 
 nations for many years, but as ours is the 
 
"fleeting visions" 147 
 
 only one which has no monetary interests in- 
 volved, we can unselfishly intervene, and hope 
 to prevent thousands of people, including 
 many innocent women and children lying en- 
 trapped, from being mercilessly slain. We 
 must keep ships from supplying arms." 
 
 The pallor of the delicate lady had deep- 
 ened, and, in a few minutes, the bird flying 
 to the edge of the roof, I was looking into 
 one of the beautiful bay-windows of an ex- 
 quisitely flowered tapestried bed-room, with 
 a view of many miles over the sea. 
 
 But the mother's head, so carefully placed 
 by loving hands among the soft pillows of 
 the couch was turned in the opposite direc- 
 tion from the sea, and the expression of her 
 face pictured the "Breaking of Home Ties." 
 
 A few hours later I was following a huge 
 war vessel, steadily and determinedly pursu- 
 ing its course through the beautiful moon-lit 
 waters, and once I caught the fearless, un- 
 daunted expression of the young commander, 
 standing at duty's call with love of country 
 stamped upon him, not only by the insignia 
 of his uniform, but by his countenance, as 
 he lifted his head toward the starry firma- 
 ment, for heavenly inspiration to fulfill his 
 duty, whatever the cost. 
 
 In the very earliest morning hours, he was 
 peering into the distance with the aid of ^ a 
 glass, and I heard the words muttered, "A 
 Ship with Arms. But we shall reach shore 
 first." 
 
148 "fleeting visions" 
 
 Then turning his glass in all directions to 
 be certain that he had lost nothing within 
 sight, he said, 
 
 "Another ship, but not a war-vessel. Of 
 that I am certain even at great distance." 
 
 A little time elapsing, I saw him land with 
 his cannoneer, and plant the cannon on shore 
 pointing to sea. At a short distance away 
 from the sea, on the high hills, almost moun- 
 tains rising to my view, were on the one 
 side, numberless gleaming lances and fiery 
 steeds, and, on the other, as many variously 
 colored uniforms and guns. In the valleys 
 was a sea of humanity. 
 
 The son had his commands from the brave 
 father, who had many times taken risks of 
 his life for love of his country. No time was 
 lost. Alone he stood with his cannoneer. 
 Soon signs of surrender of the "Ship with 
 Arms" were perceptible. Explosions had set 
 the magazines on fire, and the large amount 
 of water necessary to keep the fire under 
 control was sinking the ship. 
 
 At the same time in the hills near at hand, 
 I discerned a huge cloud of sand, which 
 spoke of the rapid disappearance of the 
 steeds and gleaming lances. I heard a ter- 
 rific shout of joy rise from the valleys, and 
 a cessation of hostility was visible among the 
 numberless gayly uniformed armed throng. 
 
"fleeting visions" 149 
 
 Chapter 2. 
 
 The hour of sunset was at hand, and 
 through the gaps of the hills a fiery furnace 
 had glowed, reflecting tracks of gold on the 
 deep blue of the sea. Then dense smoke 
 surrounding those at the cannon had been 
 wafted in the direction of the hills, transfus- 
 ing them with lovely misty gray hue above 
 the many scarlet hollows. 
 
 At just a little distance above one hill, 
 there seemed to be a large powerful vapor 
 clad rock. It looked like an immense table- 
 land in the sky, with projections supporting 
 it that resembled hoofs of immense animals. 
 The side edges of the rock were gilded, and 
 the back-edge was so thick and rich with 
 gold, that it seemed to be the entrance to a 
 golden land in the heights. 
 
 The atmosphere about the cannon became 
 at last perfectly clear. The cannoneer, of 
 noble presence, with his fine form clad in 
 khaki, stood erect by the side of the large 
 cannon, both facing the sea. And on the 
 other side of the cannon, he, with his face in 
 the direction of the sea, was the young corn- 
 mander, the long blue coat and many gilt 
 buttons at once denoting his rank, but he 
 was prostrate, motionless. 
 
 Intense emotional trembling seemed to pos- 
 sess me, and, the next instant, when I cast 
 my eyes toward the immense vapory rock, I 
 saw the face and form of his mother, and 
 
150 "fleeting visions" 
 
 there was a multitude standing on the flat- 
 tened surface of the rock. There was the 
 sweetest chanting of angels' voices within my 
 soul of "Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward 
 Men." 
 
 The shades of night now began to be 
 thrown over the entire sky, and directly over- 
 head the scene of war, signs of a storm were 
 fast appearing. The large bird spread his 
 wings and flew rapidly, sometimes descend- 
 ing and skimming the surface of the sea, and 
 then again ascending, until the motion of the 
 air, becoming so swift from the effect of 
 the storm, which had now fully burst over 
 the sea, raising the waves into immense foam 
 bursting billows, the bird lit upon a protected 
 place on the top of a cliff. 
 
 The wind whistled, moaned, and shrieked. 
 There were flashes of lightning, succeeded by 
 supreme darkness, and the thunderbolts were 
 as the echoes of cannoneering. In the in- 
 terim, loud cracking sounds were carried to 
 my ears, rendering me very curious, and as 
 each flash of lightning came, I peered in- 
 tently beneath the cliff in the direction 
 from which the sounds escaped. A ship was 
 fast losing its life, and no life-boat could 
 live amidst that roaring sea, nor could hu- 
 man soul ascend the steep cliff. As the fleet- 
 ing visions came to me from the gleaming 
 lights, the ship was torn asunder, and aflame, 
 and clinging to the masts were the flags of 
 every nation. 
 
"fleeting visions" 151 
 
 In the most vivid flash from the unknown 
 depths above, I saw the "Ship of Universal 
 Peace" sink into the darkness beneath, suc- 
 ceeded by the most awful shrieking, howling, 
 triumphant echoing sound, as it was engulfed 
 in the hollow of the sea. It was the first 
 voyage in unknown waters, and had not 
 taken the warning of the signs of storm. It 
 was too late to put an end to the cannon- 
 eering thunder-bolts hurled from earth, and 
 to escape their destruction from above. 
 
 The bird, venturing a little too near to an 
 edge of the cliff, had been struck by the last 
 vivid flash, and was falling when I, real- 
 izing that I was with the bird, suddenly at- 
 tempted to save myself by taking a step 
 down in my sleep on the settee. This motion 
 at once awakened me at the twelfth hour of 
 the day, the last of that golden morning and 
 just as "Cuckoo" coming out of the door-way 
 of his little retreat, twelve times proclaimed 
 the late hour. 
 
 Startled, I rose from the couch, and 
 walked from the piazza into the parlor, 
 where the cottage-clock hung upon the pol- 
 ished oak wall. I sank into an easy chair, 
 but I noticed that "Cuckoo" stood silently 
 watching me from the open door-way, as 
 "tick-tock, tick-tock" seemed to sound so 
 loud in the otherwise noiseless room, and "A 
 Poem for To-day," "The Love of God," by 
 Bernard Rascas, vibrated. 
 
152 "fleeting visions" 
 
 All things that are on earth shall wholly pass 
 
 away, 
 Except the love of God, which shall live and 
 
 last for aye. 
 The forms of men shall be as they had never 
 
 been; 
 The blasted groves shall lose their fresh and 
 
 tender green : 
 The birds of the thicket shall end their pleas- 
 ant song, 
 And the nightingale shall cease to chant the 
 
 evening long. 
 The kine of the pasture shall feel the dart that 
 
 kills, 
 And the fair white flocks shall perish from the 
 
 hills. 
 The goat and antlered stag, the wolf and the 
 
 fox. 
 The wild boar of the wood, and the chamois 
 
 of the rocks. 
 And the strong and fearless bear, in the trod- 
 den dust shall lie; 
 And the dolphin of the sea, and the mighty 
 
 whale shall die. 
 And realms shall be dissolved, and empires be 
 
 no more, 
 And they shall bow to death, who ruled from 
 
 shore to shore ; 
 And the great globe itself, so the holy writings 
 
 tell. 
 
153 
 
 With the rolling firmament, where the starry 
 
 armies dwell, 
 Shall melt with fervent heat — they shall all 
 
 pass away, 
 Except the love of God, which shall live and 
 
 last for aye! 
 
154 THE EUROPEAN SITUATION 
 
 THE EUROPEAN SITUATION. 
 
 A War Poem. 
 
 We are wrapped in the mystery 
 Of the greatest war's history, 
 That has happened since all the world 
 Of warriors have flags unfurled. 
 
 For sounds of conflict far and wide 
 Come to us from the other side 
 Of the ocean whose cable-bell 
 Rings forth the enormous death knell. 
 
 Women by aged sextons led, 
 Silently in procession tread 
 The farms and villages where lie 
 The men who for their country die. 
 
 Ghoul-like in torch and lantern light. 
 The old and bent men raise at night 
 The soldier heroes from the throe 
 Of nameless graves no one may know. 
 
 The officers oft bravely stand. 
 And can not seek protection's hand 
 Of lying close to Mother Earth 
 To seek of deadly marks a dearth. 
 
 They fall to win a victory 
 For men who are intrenched lowly. 
 Women mark the graves with a cross 
 Where sacrifice is in Life's loss. 
 
THE EUROPEAN SITUATION 155 
 
 The French and German cavaJry, 
 With hand to hand, fight as bravely 
 As the bold warriors of old 
 Of whom in history we're told. 
 
 Not with the dagger and the knife, 
 But with the sword and lance; the strife 
 Is ended when man from his horse 
 Falls in War's pitiless remorse. 
 
 Flower armies of Austrians, 
 Of Poles, Russians and Servians 
 Are scythed till there is Sorrow's wail 
 Of no comrade to tell the tale. 
 
 Great Britain, Belgium, India, 
 Australia, and Algeria, 
 Their allied strength to France combine 
 Against the German battle-line. 
 
 A city of intrenchments lies 
 
 Beneath one of God's most blue skies. 
 
 The wires of telephony 
 
 Live in ditch and earth flowery. 
 
 Both the Baltic and the North Sea 
 Are mined that war cruisers may be 
 Turned aside from their deadly path 
 To wreak War's stern revengeful wrath. 
 
 .Thus hidden 'neath this war city, 
 We find the soldiers patiently 
 Lying in many trenches deep 
 To eat their food and e'en to sleep. 
 
156 THE EUROPEAN SITUATION 
 
 Rapid-firing guns, at their sides 
 Are the explosive mines they hide, 
 That enemies may not entwine 
 And surround miles of battle line. 
 
 But sometimes an undercurrent 
 Will the explosive mines so rent 
 That the war-cruisers then sail on 
 And thus hold the coveted pawn. 
 
 Dirigible, aeroplane 
 Alight in the near village lane 
 And prospect all of the countries. 
 And then fly over land and seas. 
 
 Then large cities extinguish light. 
 
 That they may not feel the dread might 
 
 Of bombs dropped on them from the skies, 
 
 To shatter all that near them lies. 
 
 The Wheels of War will finely grind. 
 
 But yet, there is a light behind 
 
 Its mystery that all can ken, 
 
 "Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward Men." 
 
THE FOUR CATS 157 
 
 THE FOUR CATS. 
 
 Said the mother cat, 
 "Let us have a chat," 
 As she viewed her four Httle ones on the mat. 
 
 They sat in a row 
 In a posture low 
 Except the youngest who now stood on tip-toe. 
 
 They looked very bright 
 As well they all might, 
 For they knew very fine news would be in 
 sight. 
 
 She then said with cheer, 
 "It is so hot here, 
 To the country we must go, I greatly fear." 
 
 "But we need a home 
 From which we may roam 
 To enjoy our plunges into the white foam." 
 
 They looked very trim, 
 But their eyes grew dim. 
 With tears of joy at the thought of a fine 
 swim. 
 
 "Telegraph from here," 
 Said the oldest "Dear," 
 "Let's ask for a farm house in some country 
 near." 
 
158 THE FOUR CATS 
 
 This was quickly done, 
 Then they took a run, 
 Soon bargained with the owner for a small 
 sum. 
 
 And then this recruit 
 Donned each a bath-suit, 
 While as they wandered they ate from the 
 trees' fruit. 
 
 This dear little band 
 Often sat on sand, 
 Also ate some fine lunches of all things 
 canned. 
 
 A few friends were near 
 Who were very dear, 
 And they played on the sand until night was 
 near. 
 
 They would tie their ties, 
 All bid their good-byes, 
 Hoping that tomorrow might bring them blue 
 skies. 
 
 They all drank their tea, 
 Always ate with glee, 
 Thinking of the next day's swimming in the 
 sea. 
 
 To bed they now go, 
 Dreaming of a row. 
 If "Dad" comes from the city their boat to 
 tow. 
 
THE FOUR CATS 159 
 
 Mother sat up late, 
 It seemed to be fate. 
 With a very new found friend whose name 
 was "Kate." 
 
 Her home was on hill, 
 High above a mill. 
 And some hired help of hers all that land did 
 till. 
 
 As the midnight hour 
 Tolled from a tower. 
 With lantern in hand she went to her bower. 
 
 Mother took a peep 
 At each one asleep, 
 Very soon she was in a slumber deep. 
 
 What was that, thunder? 
 Was now her wonder. 
 As she awoke with the shaking of lumber. 
 
 Two strokes from tower 
 Soon told her the hour 
 Quite brave though she was she began to 
 cower. 
 
 The night was moon-lit 
 Which might help a bit, 
 To peer from the window to see what to hit. 
 
 Suddenly a jar 
 Like in a wrecked car, 
 Made her escape through space like a shoot- 
 ing star. 
 
160 THE FOUR CATS 
 
 Now a cannon boom 
 Shot her from the room, 
 She tried to rouse all to their coming doom. 
 
 But the masculines 
 Were loath to pay fines, 
 Of lost slumber in the land of the wood-bines. 
 
 Screaming as she might, 
 Their sleep was too tight, 
 For them to waken to engage in cat fight. 
 
 She was in despair. 
 Which was very rare, 
 When reason developed cause for her night- 
 mare. 
 
 Freedom of rafter 
 From any plaster. 
 Makes slight sounds seem loud and travel 
 much faster. 
 
 It was only Mall 
 Who was very tall, 
 As his bed was too small he was pounding 
 wall. 
 
 With a blush of shame 
 For any such fame 
 She retired once more desiring a new name. 
 
THE FOUR CATS 161 
 
 Early the next day 
 Ma told of affray, 
 Mall could not remember nor could he say nay. 
 
 At thought of the fright 
 He laughed with his might. 
 But then he began to think it might not be 
 right. 
 
 He saw her flurry 
 So was in a hurry, 
 To not be happy and say, "I should worry." 
 
 She then quickly said, 
 "I shall need some thread, 
 Walk to the town with me and be gay instead." 
 
 The day was quite warm 
 With no sign of storm, 
 And they jollied along without any form. 
 
 "Keep middle of road 
 They sang, was their code." 
 Unless an "auto" drove them from their abode. 
 
 They walked at the side 
 While others took ride, 
 Which in their happiness they could well 
 abide. 
 
 They sat on the grass 
 With joy watched the lass 
 Who walked with the boy with a fine string 
 of bass. 
 
162 THE FOUR CATS 
 
 And now they arose 
 After a little doze, 
 Then felt after that even far more jocuse. 
 
 Mall said, "Let us hie, 
 I do not wish rye, 
 But in town is ice cream I would like to try." 
 
 "It is now so hot," 
 She answers, "Why not, 
 And what do you think of the new 'turkey- 
 trot'?" 
 
 "Don't josh," answered he, 
 "I can happy be 
 While I leave turkey-trot for night after tea." 
 
 They thus poked the fun 
 As they had just done, 
 In a very short time to a bridge had run. 
 
 This led to the town ; 
 Would she wrinkle gown, 
 If for a minute to rest Ma should lie down? 
 
 Mall and she thought not 
 Though she had no cot 
 (She had slept in grass since she was "a 
 small tot"). 
 
 She enjoyed clover, 
 And then Mall drove her 
 To run the willow path faster than a "Ro- 
 ver." 
 
THE FOUR CATS 163 
 
 At the end of which 
 Side walks edged the ditch 
 And they walked with dignity to *'Ice Cream 
 Kitch." 
 
 The room was pretty, 
 'Twould be a pity, 
 If to it there should not be sung "A Ditty." 
 
 Look in the window, 
 Please choose from the row 
 Of pretty objects a present for a beau. 
 
 The door is ajar 
 Do not stand afar 
 For within there is nothing your joy to mar. 
 
 The tables are bare 
 But polished with care. 
 Made of a stained green wood which is some- 
 what rare. 
 
 Scent of nasturtiums 
 From table vase comes. 
 On the large soda fountain are the **Yum- 
 Yums." 
 
 Walls of green panel 
 Are willing to sell 
 Banners and trophies that life of college tell. 
 
 There is a mixture 
 Of funny picture 
 Delft and Dutch ware on cabinet green fix- 
 ture. 
 
164 THE FOUR CATS 
 
 As in all stores 
 Glass cases with doors 
 On high stands "to look" Kitty jumps on all 
 fours. 
 
 Something to take home 
 A jewel or comb 
 On tour of inspection causes her to roam. 
 
 After having fun 
 Making selection, 
 She falls to the floor as if she weighs a ton. 
 
 Just under her feet 
 It cannot be cheat, 
 There is something to her which smells very 
 sweet. 
 
 About her dangles 
 Something to wrangle. 
 And she finds herself trifling in "a tangle." 
 
 Of very fine weave 
 Indians did leave 
 Sweet grass baskets and to one of these she 
 cleaved. 
 
 At last she rolled out. 
 As she was not stout, 
 And escaped at the "Open Door" without 
 doubt. 
 
 "There is a menu," 
 Said Mall at first view, 
 "So shall I now order sundaes for us two." 
 
THE FOUR CATS 165 
 
 Ma said that would do 
 Although it was true 
 Ice cold mixtures were not as a rule her cue. 
 
 Mall knew this was so 
 And so as her beau, 
 He studied the menu something else to know. 
 
 He was within inch 
 Of giving her pinch, 
 When he read that coffee was served with 
 sandwich. 
 
 They talked as they ate 
 At a very good rate, 
 Which made a very delightful tete-e-tete. 
 
 A storm has risen, 
 We are in prison, 
 Dark gloom and tat-a-tat-tat made decision. 
 
 Drenching rubber coat 
 As if from a moat, 
 Comes to near table with mate on whom to 
 dote. 
 
 Face was shining, 
 Love was entwining, 
 Live for each other is for our divining. 
 
 Storm's vengeance wreaks, 
 Everything creaks, 
 Lightning is visible with freak after freak. 
 
166 THE FOUR CATS 
 
 Coat's owner is meek 
 When leak after leak, 
 Compels him a nail in distant nook to seek. 
 
 After refreshment 
 Force of storm was rent, 
 To some other place the couple's steps were 
 bent. 
 
 They left as if Hfe 
 Never had a strife, 
 And he with the look some day she'll be my 
 wife. 
 
 The spell was broken 
 There was no token 
 Of else but sunshine since the world had 
 woken. 
 
 The mother arose, 
 The mood was not prose. 
 But with sentiment she must have had a doze. 
 
 "With our loves at home 
 Oh, where shall we roam 
 Tonight," she asks Mall as she stops to buy a 
 comb. 
 
 » 
 
 He replies, "Dear Marm, 
 There can be no harm 
 If we seek at pavilion dance music's charm." 
 
THE FOUR CATS 167 
 
 **Come, then let us start. 
 At farm get a tart, 
 And ask friends to go with us in large hay 
 cart." 
 
 With you I agree, 
 'Twill be a levee 
 To see moon-light on the river and the lea. 
 
 'Twas not Switzerland 
 Where the mountains stand, 
 Which people travel to see from ev'ry land. 
 
 Here the breezes fanned 
 Many hills of sand, 
 And one sand mountain was boasted in this 
 land. 
 
 This was a delight 
 To ev'ry one's sight, 
 To climb it one had to work with all one's 
 might. 
 
 It had its renown 
 In every town, 
 Where all took much pleasure looking at its 
 crown. 
 
 Observatory 
 Overlooked the lea, 
 'Twas free to climb to top and there was no 
 key. 
 
168 THE FOUR CATS 
 
 The light of the moon 
 Was not at all soon, 
 But tireless spectators put hay-cart "in car- 
 toon." 
 
 Friends were on all four 
 Talking ancient lore, 
 Which had no end as one always thought of 
 more. 
 
 Old-time songs echoed 
 O'er the fresh hay mowed, 
 When out of which there suddenly 
 jumped a toad. 
 
 All of fashion's crew 
 Gave tremendous mew, 
 The pretty dresses present were 
 not a few. 
 
 There was a fine tease 
 Who began to wheeze 
 Toad must be put on some one so 
 he must seize. 
 
 Friends jumped on his back 
 To put him off track. 
 Which made the wheels of old wagon 
 start to crack. 
 
 Host now made a toast 
 To departed ghost, 
 For to make quick escape it had 
 done its most. 
 
THE FOUR CATS 169 
 
 Now with dignity 
 Of beauty of lea, 
 River, and moonlight they talk as busy bee. 
 
 "Sand mountain, I'll climb 
 Without any dime," 
 Said Mall to his friends, "If you'll make me a 
 rhyme.'* 
 
 "To-morrow," they cried, 
 "Even if they died. 
 In that springless hay-cart they would take 
 that ride." 
 
 Friends, song fashion, tease 
 Disappeared with breeze. 
 Beneath trees where none could even see a 
 squeeze. 
 
 The lights of the town 
 Soon made them all frown, 
 But they soon reached the dance hall of great 
 renown. 
 
 With many a cheer 
 At last we are here. 
 They all quickly tumbled from the wagon's 
 rear. 
 
 They paid to enter, 
 'Twas due to renter, 
 For this made the audience so much better. 
 
170 THE FOUR CATS 
 
 They were soon in whirl, 
 No one wore a pearl, 
 Dame Fashion decreed the hair should have 
 no curl. 
 
 Dance began to lag. 
 All looked at the rag, 
 The war battered remnants of a fine old flag. 
 
 It hung very proud, 
 Could never be cowed, 
 Allegiance to country was forever vowed. 
 
 It inspired a joy 
 Which made dancers coy, 
 *'No one in this world could with their free- 
 dom toy." 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST. 
 Chapter 1. 
 
 "Tick-tock" chimed the antique clock in 
 one of the oldest monasteries of France It 
 was the evening hour when the Abbe ob- 
 sorbed m the vespers from which he' had 
 come, entered his sanctuary. His gaze was 
 absently fixed on the front of the room 
 where two stamed glass windows reaching to 
 the floor had been thrown open, revealing 
 glimpses of the sunset. He passed through 
 the open door-way which led to a stone 
 porch with balustrades, supporting at inter- 
 vals stone images of Cupids holding vases 
 filled with gay flowers. He descended the 
 stone steps to a garden with finely trimmed 
 hedges. Close by were rich farm land and a 
 meadow which reached the sea not far away. 
 In the distance to the right were snow- 
 capped mountains. To the left were high 
 hills and as the great golden globe descended 
 in the blue sky, its reflection filled the sea 
 with golden rivers. "Sweeping through the 
 golden streets," came involuntarily from the 
 Abbe. He stood entranced for a short time 
 and then retraced his steps to the porch- 
 threshold of his sanctuary, and turned to 
 speak to *une jeune fille charmante' who was 
 sitting at one end of his library table 
 
172 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 "Elise," said he, "those breaths of sunshine 
 have invigorated me for my work." Then 
 he entered the room and sat down at the end 
 of the long table facing her, and his quill 
 began to work on various manuscripts. For 
 some time the scratching of the quill and 
 "tick-tock" were the only sounds of life fill- 
 ing the very large room, the ceiling of 
 which was the roof of the main building, 
 supported by rafters inlaid with various an- 
 cient emblems. 
 
 The side walls were hung with antlers, 
 skins, emblazonry and other trophies of a 
 family of nobility. For in the days of the 
 monarchy the monastery had been a castle, 
 and the regal chair in which Elise was sit- 
 ting had been designed for the entertainment 
 of the king. The wood work was finely 
 carved ebony, and it was upholstered in scar- 
 let velvet. There were many pieces of fur- 
 niture of antique design in the very large 
 room, which were all of wood work and up- 
 holstery similar to the regal chair. On ac- 
 count of the castle's situation on the side of 
 a hill, it had been built irregularly in a ram- 
 bhng fashion, "sprawling" on the hill, as it 
 was styled by travelers. Consequently, 
 there were many towers and turrets crown- 
 ing the annexes of the main building. 
 
 In all of the buildings there were many 
 stained glass windows which had been in- 
 stalled by the monastery, and were of re- 
 ligious character. Reflected colorings were 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 173 
 
 at present being thrown by the glowing sun- 
 set against the large hardwood mantel-piece 
 with candelabra and candles at each end, and 
 as a ray stole a sly peep at Elise's hair, it 
 proclaimed it threads of gold. This, with a 
 face which had been imbued since early 
 childhood with the serenity and sacredness of 
 the monastery, and a slight figure enveloped 
 in a summer costume of soft clinging white 
 material, and daintily slippered feet, lent to 
 a great degree to the attractiveness of the 
 Abbe's sanctuary. Especially as, with head 
 bent a little, her fingers were effecting ex- 
 quisite lace work. 
 
 The venerable Abbe, with dark loose-gown 
 and cap, and face whose lineaments betok- 
 ened an unusual gentle and kind character, 
 was interrupted in his writing by *un ser- 
 vant' who presented a letter to him. "Le 
 servant" withdrew and the Abbe was laying 
 it on the table for perusal at some less occu- 
 pied moment, when the foreign post mark of 
 a far distant country caught his notice, and 
 he said quietly, *Tres etrange.' Although 
 Father Evere's voice had been nearly inaud- 
 ible, the previous long continued intense 
 quiet had rendered Elise's hearing acute, and 
 she started, looking up from her work toward 
 him. But perfect composure and self con- 
 trol were now his attitude, as he read the 
 letter. However, Elise's serenity had become 
 disturbed ; she felt the presence of some dis- 
 quieting force, and that her kind Father had 
 
174 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 received news of this nature. At intervals 
 she glanced at him shyly and curiously. 
 
 Directly in front of the Abbe, reflected 
 from one of the beautiful stained glass win- 
 dows, an image of our Saviour, dressed as 
 a shepherd in exquisite scarlet and pink loose 
 robe, holding a stafif and with halo about his 
 head had appeared in the very highly pol- 
 ished top-surface of a portion of the table. 
 Elise had resorted to a continued searching 
 look into the Abbe's countenance. The deep 
 wrinkles of his face had become hardened, 
 his mouth having taken the appearance of 
 firm determination, and his forehead having 
 the first dark frown that she had ever seen 
 there. Intended refusal to a request for aid, 
 on account of some injury latent for many 
 years, forced from the tightly pressed lips 
 of the Abbe, "His son can not come here." 
 The letter suddenly dropped from his fingers, 
 and in looking forward a glimpse at the re- 
 flected image caused an instantaneous restora- 
 tion of the Father's kind and gentle counte- 
 nance. Looking into Elise's beautiful star- 
 tled eyes he said more gently than usual, "I 
 had almost fallen, Elise. As soon as I write 
 an answer to this letter, I have something 
 important to tell you. An immediate re- 
 sponse is absolutely necessary." 
 
 "Tick-tock," and the scratching of his 
 quill were again for some time the only 
 sounds in the room, until "un servant" en- 
 tered to light the hearth and candles, as the 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 175 
 
 very large room always grew cold during 
 the evening hour. The Abbe put his seal on 
 the envelope, and gave 'le servant' instruc- 
 tions to take it to the village post-office in 
 haste. All was so bright and cheerful. As 
 the door closed behind the hurried messen- 
 ger, Father Evere arose from his work and 
 touched Elise lightly on her shoulder as he 
 passed her chair in approaching the hearth. 
 The bright flames cheered his heart and he 
 said happily, ''Evening and you, Elise. 
 Come, I have something unusual to tell you." 
 
 She had been brought to him, a little or- 
 phan, with lovely golden hair and true blue 
 eyes, by friends of her departed parents. 
 She had been left to their care, and after the 
 estate of the parents had been settled, it was 
 found that the little girl who had been pre- 
 viously surrounded with every luxury would 
 be "pauvre." These friends knew the kind 
 Abbe, and that the refined luxury of his 
 monastery would be similar to her past life, 
 if he would accept her as his protege. The 
 attractive personality of the child helped the 
 bravery of her friends in their suggestion. 
 It resulted as they hoped. He loved her as 
 his own child from the first time he saw her. 
 
 For many years her instruction in music 
 had been thorough, and the Abbe now led 
 her to an exquisitely gilded harp, ornamented 
 with relief figures, bringing to mind events 
 of the crusades. He then sat in a large 
 chair before the fire. Elise was one of a 
 
176 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 sympathetic nature who could adapt herself 
 to others' moods. The strains of "Long, 
 Long Ago" began to softly yet forcibly per- 
 meate the very large room. The Abbe 
 seemed lost in retrospection and finally closed 
 his eyes. Elise wondered whether she had 
 put him to sleep, instead of rendering it more 
 easy for him to disclose some long hidden 
 truths. She began to doubt that she had ap- 
 plied the suitable musical adaptation. How- 
 ever, she quietly continued, until the reso- 
 nance of the last strain had melted away. 
 
 The Abbe's eyes opened at once. "You 
 have interpreted me as you always do," said 
 he. "A beautiful little sister was once my 
 partner in life. We had been left in our 
 native country in a large private school kept 
 by friends of our parents, while they took a 
 long sea voyage. Delicacy of health on the 
 part of each seemed to demand it, and al- 
 though loath to leave us they finally set sail. 
 A year passed, during which time my dear 
 little sister and I were constant companions 
 and playmates, the absence of our parents 
 rendering our love ties more binding. One 
 day I noticed that our whole school was in 
 mourning. I mean that everyone looked sad. 
 There was not a bright face. I, a boy filled 
 with the joy of living, searched everywhere 
 for a happy countenance. Nowhere could I 
 find it, so I finally withdrew silently to the 
 confidence of my cherished playmate, my sis- 
 ter. 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 177 
 
 "Marie," said I, "there is some trouble in 
 this school, and I am alarmed. I am afraid 
 to venture a word to anyone. I have seen 
 several crying, and those who are not, look 
 too sad to talk. You and I are the only 
 very young children here, and I suppose they 
 will tell us the very last what is the matter. 
 But, forget it," said I, the next minute, as I 
 saw her loved little countenance growing 
 extremely thoughtful, for from earliest mem- 
 ories I never could see the radiance of that 
 beautiful face darkened. 
 
 "The next minute I was engaged in some 
 boyish freak which brought peal after peal 
 of laughter from my solitary audience. I 
 finally forgot that I was the actor, and be- 
 tween acts I was indulging in the heartiest 
 outbursts of laughter, when the door creaked 
 and — those faces again seemed to haunt me 
 through that cautiously and partly opened 
 door. I suddenly slipped from the immense 
 horse I was riding, which was composed of 
 numerous chairs, tables and hassocks com- 
 piled, and fell in a heap to the floor with a 
 sprain and faint. 
 
 "In the quiet of my room where I was 
 held a prisoner for many weeks, when I was 
 strong enough, very quietly and gently, the 
 terrible news of both father and mother hav- 
 ing been lost at sea was told to me by a lady 
 who had deeply loved my mother. I can see 
 the white muslin curtains blowing in the early 
 spring breezes, as I lay and thought and fin- 
 
178 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 ally I said, **Does Marie know?" The next 
 instant the lovely lady put Marie in her place 
 and our heart sobs and tears mingled. Push 
 the curtains aside, Elise, and look at the 
 beautiful mountains on the outskirts of the 
 village. In a grotto in those mountains, a 
 man lived as a hermit for many years, and 
 that man had passed our school every day 
 at noon from the time I remembered enter- 
 ing the school. He had the habit of scanning 
 the boys' faces very closely as they indulged 
 in their play. He always carried magazines 
 and many papers. 'Certainment,' the people 
 of the town called him a miser, who was 
 hiding his bags of gold in the grotto. But 
 as he never disturbed the peace of any one, 
 he was allowed to go about the town with- 
 out further comment. 
 
 **When Marie had become sufficiently calm, 
 I said to her, 'Our hermit was passing our 
 school that terrible morning and I remember 
 that he was exceptionally busy reading the 
 newspaper while walking, when suddenly, he 
 stopped and asked a boy a question and 
 Jacques raised his arm and pointed at me 
 over the heads of the boys surrounding him. 
 Marie, I wish you could find or buy a copy 
 of that paper. I must read of the great sea 
 disaster.' Just then she drew away from my 
 bed a little, and at the other end of the room, 
 were my eyes to be trusted? I saw the her- 
 mit. But his suit now was of the finest cloth, 
 not the rusty, cave-looking garment, and he 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 179 
 
 \yas clean shaven, and was entirely priest- 
 like in appearance. He came toward me with 
 the lady, who said, This gentleman is a 
 cousin of mine from my native heath, where 
 we both lived twenty years ago. At that 
 time he was Abbe of a monastery and I was 
 Mother Superior. But destruction fell upon 
 our building in the form of terrible dynamite 
 explosions causing us all to flee for our lives. 
 For several days and nights my Cousin and 
 I hid in the forests, and mountain caves, and 
 grottoes until we had passed the borderline 
 of our country. The Abbe was especially 
 pursued as he held in his possession the 
 wealth of the monastery in the form of gold 
 securities. Our destination was the grotto in 
 which he has lived for many years. But 
 I received a position at once as teacher in 
 this school in which your dear mother re- 
 ceived a part of her education. My cousin 
 decided that he liked the mountain life near 
 this small town, as he had been deprived of 
 the honor of his former position, and until 
 he might at some future time see a way to 
 restoring his money to the power of the 
 church, he preferred to live a simple life.' 
 
 " 'Since his downfall it has always been his 
 hope to use the gold of the church to raise 
 sorne boy into a position similar to the one 
 which had been his. For years he scanned 
 the faces of the boys of the town, and when 
 I told him, at the time when you first came 
 to this school, that your parents hoped to 
 
180 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 make provisions for your education fitting 
 you for a high position in the church, he 
 took special notice of you at your play when- 
 ever he passed the school. On the morning 
 of the publishing of the news of the terrible 
 sea-disaster, he was reading about it and 
 asked a boy named Jacques if you were in 
 the school yard playing, as it was his inten- 
 tion to ask me to impart the news gently. 
 Jacques very quietly designated you among 
 the boys, and he saw by your liveliness that 
 you had no knowledge of your trouble. He 
 knew that I was not at the school that day, 
 and no power lay with him on that account 
 to gently break the news to you. But he 
 came to me as soon as I had returned from 
 a little vacation I was taking, to ask about 
 you. Now he asks me to tell you that I 
 know he is a good man, and that he wishes 
 to take the position of your guardian and 
 protector, and that he will always love you 
 and your sister, if you will come and live 
 with him and me in a beautiful new home 
 which he has bought in town. For his part, 
 he intends to take a great interest in the po- 
 litical life of the town, trying to use his 
 influence to right any wrongs he may per- 
 ceive.' 
 
 "I answered very promptly, 'I have found 
 out during this long illness that you are the 
 loveliest lady I have ever known next to my 
 mother, and if you say this is as it should 
 be for Marie and me, I am willing to trust 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 181 
 
 you.' The priest had taken the posture of 
 prayer at the foot of my bed. But now sud- 
 denly arose and fairly hugged me, his em- 
 brace was so firm. But firmest of all came 
 the words, 'You shall never regret your de- 
 cision.' My recovery was rapid from that 
 time. We were taken away from the school 
 into a beautiful home. The best private tu- 
 tors of the town were provided for us, my 
 dear priest spending also much of his time 
 instructing us. With the exception of the 
 grief for our parents, there was not a ripple 
 of trouble in the lives of Marie and myself 
 for many years. During the winters, as it 
 was quite cold in the mountainous region, 
 our god- father and god-mother took us a few 
 hundred miles away into a valley, famous for 
 its beauty and warmth. Marie and I lived 
 the happy life of birds in the sunshine and 
 fresh air, in constant contact with the pure, 
 clear, and fresh running waters of brooks 
 and streams, sipping the honey of the dain- 
 tiest flowers. 
 
 "But in all my wanderings 
 
 I never could see - 
 As fair a flower 
 
 As my Marie had grown to be. 
 
 "The warmth of the valley was particularly 
 improving to her delicate beauty. The blue 
 eyes only looked the bluer beneath the dark 
 hair, as the contrasting deep pink peach 
 bloom of the cheeks was so near and with 
 
182 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 the accompaniment of a spirituelle figure, 
 there was no dainty flower of the valley more 
 beautifully constituted than she. I was a 
 stalwart youth and expected, at the coming 
 session, to enter one of the finest universities 
 in the capital of a neighboring country. I 
 knew that Marie had not been appraised of 
 this, and as we sat together on a log near 
 to some playful rivulets emanating from a 
 spring nearby, I determined to tell her 
 quietly and to talk to her gaily of the vaca- 
 tion periods, when promises had been given 
 to me that she should go to the grand city 
 to enjoy the glimpses of the educational and 
 social functions. We sat and murmured as 
 the brook beyond the rivulets near us, and 
 exchanged heart to heart sad thoughts of 
 coming separation, and as I saw the gurgling 
 stream beyond tumbling over rocks, I found 
 myself quite unconsciously saying, 'But, I 
 fear, Marie, that some one will pluck from 
 me the daintiest of the flowers of this val- 
 ley.' " 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 183 
 
 Chapter 2. 
 
 *The beautiful autumn tinges of the vines 
 covered artistically the attractive architecture 
 of the university buildings, situated in the 
 outskirts of the very large city, which I was 
 to consider my home for the major portion 
 of time for a few years. I found my heart 
 leaping and bounding with love for my Alma 
 Mater, as I entered the office building to pre- 
 sent the necessary papers for my introduc- 
 tion. I was soon esconced to my perfect 
 satisfaction, both in city lodgings and frater- 
 nal environments. It had been my particular 
 request from my god-father that he would 
 allow me to board in the immense cosmo- 
 politan city. My life had always been a 
 quiet one, among few people and I was now 
 at that commencing energetic age of man- 
 hood, when I longed at times for life, energy, 
 hurry, bustle, crowded streets flooded with 
 light. He felt that he could trust that no 
 evil would be my goal and accordingly dur- 
 ing those Alma Mater years of my life, I 
 satiated to the full my youthful bounding 
 pulses, and when my ordination followed 
 several years later, I was ready from obser- 
 vation to estabish valuable reformatory 
 measures for the City Charitable Relief 
 Corps of which I had always been an hon- 
 orary member from the time of my fresh- 
 man initiation. 
 
 "I had constant companionship during my 
 
184 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 collegiate years with a fraternal associate 
 aspiring to be a priest. His intended trend 
 of life combined with our mutual chord of 
 fellowship led us into the same paths of life 
 to a great degree. Our Charitable Corps was 
 always an interesting subject of conversation 
 to us. He had an attractive personality of 
 a country foreign to mine. Heavy, grace- 
 fully wavy hair enhanced the beauty of the 
 dreamy intelligent expression of the eyes. 
 Features which could only have been the 
 dower of refined ancestry were his, and a 
 slight well-knit, athletic figure. He was 
 ever the same in his gentleness and attractive 
 charm in meeting all people. It always 
 seemed to me that he was specially consti- 
 tuted in all ways for his intended life work. 
 His voice had an enticing musical vibration. 
 Sometimes I seem to hear it now, Elise, cor- 
 respond with some of your exquisite tones 
 which you render to me. Upon his first 
 meeting of my loved Marie at Convocation, 
 a chord from his lyre met corresponding 
 notes. Her beauty was now enhanced when- 
 ever his presence met hers. It seemed to be 
 soul to soul from first meeting, and as her 
 individuality had always been ethereal, that 
 was now intensified. His attraction was al- 
 ways greater when with her, as there always 
 appeared even a more positive gentle ex- 
 pression in the great charm of the eye, which 
 was always his. My happiness was only sec- 
 ondary to theirs. I loved him, Elise, next 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 185 
 
 only to her. So that when the day came, 
 only a few years later, that he bore her with 
 his wings of love far away to a foreign land, 
 even of snow and ice, I smiled gaily as I 
 tied the marital knot, for I had just reached 
 the commencement of my life's goal, and told 
 them that all cold would forever vanish 
 whenever they flew into its presence. 
 
 "However, I had one fear for my adored 
 sister, and that was her delicacy. I ex- 
 tracted from him a promise bound with 
 Friendship's chord, that should intimation of 
 decline of strength ever become apparent to 
 him, he would bring back to live with the 
 donor until resuscitated the flower of our 
 warm valley. Beautiful, frank, genial, 
 brother-love letters came to me for a year.' 
 Then, suddenly, I found myself with no let- 
 ters at the accustomed intervals. I did not 
 even wait to telegraph when I really felt 
 there must be illness, but started post-haste 
 for the two loved doves, which had been 
 mine. It was a long journey. But I at 
 last reached the snow and ice-bound clime 
 for a part of the year, though for a time 
 also, a warm gulf stream moderated the cli- 
 mate. This was tHe frozen time of the year, 
 and as I approached the monastery and 
 church surrounded with pines growing out 
 of • deep snow, one after another forming 
 beautiful green pinnacle exterior adorn- 
 ments beneath the many mounted stone 
 spires of beautiful architecture high above, 
 
186 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 the resonant tones of a famous bell began 
 to resound far and wide. In the distance 
 forming a background to the church were 
 high mist shrouded mountains, and the only 
 path which led to the front curved about one 
 side. It was broad and bricked, forming the 
 top surface of one of the sloping sides of a 
 gradually approaching rock abyss which 
 when one reached the capacious arched 
 church door in the front, was evident to the 
 eye in all its rough, rocky beauty. 
 
 "You know how susceptible I am to music, 
 and I could not refrain even in my intense 
 anxiety when this view burst suddenly upon 
 me; I did stand for an instant peering over 
 the rocky sides into the deep abyss beneath 
 at a little stream of water gurgling and play- 
 ing, lovingly caressing its rough rocky bed 
 surface. 'My flower,' thought I, 'in its cold 
 home.' This awakened me and I advanced 
 quickly to the door. But just as suddenly 
 the bells had changed in their sounds. By 
 the time I had mounted the broad interior 
 stone steps, which led me to a view of the 
 altar church floor and dome, the death knell 
 was sounding in its greatest solemnity from 
 those resonant bells. I stood with my hands 
 clasped at my back, a favorite position of 
 mine in those days, facing the altar. I was 
 stunned and dazed, for I had unconsciously 
 imprinted on my memory the scene of peas- 
 ant women with snow shoes, gay stockings 
 of all colors, short skirts, and basque jack- 
 
THE FRENCH ^PRIEST 187 
 
 ets edged with furs. Some led children by 
 the hand similarly dressed with the excep- 
 tion of the gayest neckerchiefs upon their 
 heads. Babies with hoods of brightest hue 
 were held close to the women. One of these 
 women with baby with bright saffron hood 
 and child with gay neckerchief fastened be- 
 neath the chin, had particularly impressed 
 me when I had first mounted the interior 
 stone steps of the church, for I had dis- 
 tinctly heard her say to the child of some- 
 what advanced age, 'The mother is dead. 
 But the baby boy is strong and stout, God 
 bless him.' 
 
 "The bells now ceased ringing. But their 
 echoed resonance would not be stilled within 
 my musical being, and I sought the monas- 
 tery in my dazed condition. Yet I could not 
 cast out that trusted chord of Friendship 
 either, and I tried to chide myself for un- 
 worthy thoughts. Instinctively and through 
 slight inquiry, I very easily found an en- 
 trance through the church to the monastery, 
 and was at once directed to the Abbe's pri- 
 vate apartment. The door happened to be 
 slightly ajar, and telling my guide that I was 
 a near relative from a foreign land, he 
 seemed satisfied, and left me to enter at my 
 pleasure without formal announcement. I 
 was of a slighter build during those days 
 than at present. But my shoulders were 
 broad, and I had difficulty in entering the 
 allowed embrasure without pushing the door 
 
188 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 further. But I made no sound on entering. 
 I first noticed the paneled ceiHngs of the 
 sanctuary, then the perfectly polished floor, 
 and rug of beautiful pattern and weave, and 
 then a plain, sturdy small table on four 
 plain cut legs. Sitting in a chair of like de- 
 scription was my old friend, his head re- 
 clining on his outstretched arms covering 
 nearly the entire surface of the table. He 
 was attired in a black, loose flowing robe. 
 All fears and signs were at last too much. 
 I suddenly startled him by a firm, *Is it 
 true?' Not agony and sorrow alone were 
 pictured to me in the gaze forced without 
 warning. But, immediately upon recognition, 
 knowledge of not continuing the vibration of 
 our chord of 'Friendship.' My friend died 
 forever in that gaze. He fitted a very tiny 
 key into the key-hole of a very small drawer 
 in the table, and drew from it a small box. 
 'Her Confession,' he said. 'She held it dur- 
 ing her last hours and left it for you. I can 
 only expiate by living and dying for the 
 church. She had asked me from the first 
 to keep our secret, she and I both hoping 
 all would be well.' 'Her Confession' was 
 simply her 'Rosary,' Elise. I have worn it 
 ever since. Her last hours had been pray- 
 ers as she had striven 'to kiss the Cross.' " 
 The Abbe now suddenly paused in his 
 narrative. Assuming a retrospective attitude, 
 his chin resting in the palm of his hand no 
 sound echoed from roof or rafter for a lit- 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 189 
 
 tie time, except "tick-tock" from the old 
 time clock. At last heaving a heavy sigh, it 
 was like the sighing of the wind of the Au- 
 tumn for the death of the beautiful summer, 
 "Today," he continued, "I received the con- 
 firmation of his intention. This letter with 
 foreign post-mark, which has so disturbed my 
 usual placidity, comes from his son, now a 
 young man. He writes the history of these 
 intervening years. 
 "My dear Uncle, 
 
 *T hope you will accept this title by which I 
 am addressing you, though at the present 
 time I am laboring under strained circum- 
 stances. I am traveling at present in dis- 
 guise. My father's demise happened a month 
 since, while in exile for expression of views 
 considered too broad to consistently meet 
 vows to the Church. 
 
 " *We have not had a stationary monasterial 
 life for years on account of such clear ex- 
 pression by him of his broad views. My 
 ideas, sympathetically according with his, are 
 causing me to be hunted as the hound. But 
 Nature will correspond and I am as weary as 
 he. 
 
 " T am a French Peasant and appeal to you 
 that you will make of me for a time a 
 French Priest. Your refusal would bring 
 exile and certain death to the son of a sister 
 treasured dearly by you in youth. In hope, 
 Frank.' " 
 
 The Abbe now rising walked to his former 
 
190 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 place at the table, and placing the letter care- 
 fully in a drawer, locked it and then walked 
 to the stained glass windows, which had 
 been closed to keep the chilly night breezes of 
 the sea from entering the very large room. 
 He suddenly threw them open, and turned 
 to Elise asking her to herald the next morn 
 by singing a song of a lark. "The night 
 from the sea portends a beautiful morn, 
 Elise, please sing for me." After having 
 been refreshed by a draught of the invigora- 
 ting sea-breeze, he advanced to the fire-place 
 again from which were emanated the joyful 
 strains of Elise. 
 
 He was no longer of any slight build of 
 youth, for the broad shoulders of former 
 days were now fully rounded the same as 
 his entire stature. But dignity of the great- 
 est worth of character stamped his entire 
 being, his corporosity simply seeming to mag- 
 nify it. His loose flowing robe of beautiful 
 color combination, and small, dark, tight fit- 
 ting cap on the large round bald head, fully 
 presented largess of being. The texture 
 of the heart being the same, he now ventured 
 a very delicate subject to Elise in harmony 
 with it. She had finished her song and he 
 addressed her cheerily, "My Meadow Lark, 
 I am seeing you to-morrow enjoying the 
 heather and the lovely weather. But do 
 not think that no one sees that some one 
 looks at thee admiringly. Loving eyes are 
 devouring and aspiring that thee shall belong 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 191 
 
 to them. A Count of a neighboring chateau 
 has addressed me for you, EHse," now turning 
 and gazing fixedly at her, as if to truly pene- 
 trate a secret of her soul if it possessed. 
 "But love for him, Dear, is it there?" he 
 continued, dreamily regarding her now. "I 
 cannot see it, I know, Elise, you need not 
 tell me. The sword of our neighboring 
 manor's Lord is not your corresponding 
 chord. Under these circumstances, I feel that 
 I can justly ask a commission of the Meadow 
 Lark. The message of the French Priest's 
 attire at the end of the long pier, when no 
 gardener has yet turned his scythe, and the 
 meadow lark's heart does not writhe." 
 
 "The soft sea breeze 
 
 Which has invigorated me 
 
 Is wafting a French Peasant to his hie 
 
 There must not be 
 
 Lord of a neighboring manor. 
 
 When to the Meadow Lark, 
 
 He shall draw nigh." 
 
 As she softly glided from the room, Tick- 
 tock signaled the strokes of the midnight 
 hour, as he beat them with his anvil, by 
 marshaling an array of pictorial characters 
 representing the history of the centuries of 
 his country. The Abbe had left the fire-side 
 at the retirement of Elise, and was arranging 
 papers on the library table preparatory to 
 silent commune of self consecrated to future 
 ages. As soon as Tick-tock had given his 
 
192 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 command to the past ages to vanish, by de- 
 claring that his words must now be the only 
 accompaniment to the recording quill of the 
 present age scratching in the second sands 
 of time, the Abbe was completely absorbed in 
 the harmony of his age with his being. His 
 nature, which had always been consecrated to 
 the furtherance of good had received the 
 boon of the gold loving cup of poetry, and 
 being once endowed it was now effervescent 
 in its overflow of silent research of self, ac- 
 companied by the tune of the strings of the 
 musical instrument of the present age con- 
 veyed to him by constantly reading each 
 day's world's events. The belfry in the old 
 tower was striking the hour of the earliest 
 matins of the day, when the Abbe left the 
 room to the sole occupation of Tick-tock, 
 whose heart is not moved to an irregular re- 
 sounding by the emotional trickery of any 
 age. But a heart of love in its beat of time 
 had been moved to a fluctuating pulse by 
 Tick-tock's regular poundings. 
 
 "The Heart of the Fairy Copper Tick-tock." 
 
 'Twas locked in the cavern 
 Of an antique French clock. 
 It worked in harmony 
 With a poet of the age. 
 When he with his key 
 Knew that its time should be 
 The accompanying chords 
 To his own heart's pulse song. 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 193 
 
 He unlocked the Door, 
 That the Httle man in his rage 
 Might proclaim by poundings 
 He was out of his cage ; 
 Accompaniment to 
 The tune of this age, 
 He would help free the oppressed 
 As in fairy adage. 
 
 With fairies he will forever 
 Work, and walk, and talk. 
 But he can never live, 
 As his heart is a sieve 
 That cannot even hold 
 Life's second of time. 
 Marching forward with others 
 To fill Father Time's well. 
 
 He is not adamantine 
 To any wicked deed ; 
 In his walk continues 
 Each century to feed ; 
 Tick-tock, Tick-tock 
 He will forever proclaim. 
 This is forever his talk ; 
 From his words is his name. 
 
194 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 Chapter 3. 
 
 THE AWAKENING. 
 
 Sunrise 
 
 A golden ball is merging 
 
 Into an azure cloud, 
 
 It has dispelled night's black veil 
 
 As reflection allowed. 
 
 The lower sphere is of 
 
 Beautiful roseate hue ; 
 
 The upper is of gold 
 
 Riding in the azure blue. 
 
 Reflection's tinges paint clouds 
 
 Above azure blue sky, 
 
 'Tis in Heaven's high blue 
 
 They are slowly riding by. 
 
 They now receive the roseate. 
 
 The gold and azure, 
 
 The sun loves its companions 
 
 In beauty to immure. 
 
 Rose of ball turns gold 
 
 As it rises in azure band, 
 
 Full golden and rides by 
 
 And in light blue takes its stand 
 
 As the fast flying birds 
 
 Vivid shades it then dispels. 
 
 Silver ball set in blue 
 
 To most of bright colors death knells. 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 195 
 
 Like a silvery moon 
 
 It shines in the light blue sky, 
 
 And then floats into 
 
 A light yellow cloud close by ; 
 
 'Tis a pure white ball 
 
 In this color cloud atmosphere, 
 
 Then plays hide and seek 
 
 Neath the vari-colored clouds near. 
 
 It hides itself 
 
 In a slightly azure clouded sky. 
 
 Sends down orange reflections 
 
 To light cloud which are nigh; 
 
 It very quickly dispels 
 
 Its azure hiding place. 
 
 Golden rays drive 
 
 The azure chariot color race. 
 
 The fast flying azure 
 
 At once loses its first place; 
 
 Increasing lighter blue 
 
 Is not loath to hold its base ; 
 
 Light yellow and purple tinge 
 
 Give it a slight graze ; 
 
 White wins morning's cup 
 
 By sun's gaze shining through light haze. 
 
 Each side of the peaked roof of the chapel 
 was surmounted by a tower of similar archi- 
 tecture but not of corresponding height. 
 Rising from the more lofty tower, a gilt cross 
 gleamed far and wide with the rising sun. 
 Peering from the small windows of this 
 
196 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 pagoda-like structure at dawn was the Abbe's 
 "Meadow Lark," From her vantage point 
 the beautiful reflective colorings of the rising 
 sun were soon her own, as well as the sight 
 of the sailing freight vessel riding in the dis- 
 tant waves of the sea. Successively directing 
 her gaze from directly opposite windows 
 from one enjoying the exquisite colorings 
 which only the heavens can perfectly portray, 
 and from the other indulging in all of "une 
 jeune fille's" dreams of romance of chivalrous 
 attractions of manhood traveling in disguise, 
 suddenly her reveries fell from their richly 
 painted atmosphere to the gleaming grassy 
 sheaves beneath in the distance. She knows 
 that "le vieux jardinier" will soon be using his 
 scythe and talking idly meanwhile, as she so 
 often sees him with her **Lord of the Neigh- 
 boring Manor." All of her actions will be 
 quickly comprehended by My Lord through 
 the early rising jardinier. 
 
 Over the meadow 
 Through the gleaming sheaves I shall hie, 
 
 To hide his scythe 
 In a far distant bush I shall fly 
 
 When I meet a French Peasant 
 My Lord shall not be nigh. 
 
 Mon vieux jardinier 
 Shall hunt for his scythe through the rye; 
 
 Neither shall gossip 
 But be compelled to say good-by. 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 197 
 
 Flitting about the spiral staircases of the 
 tower, she escapes through an open stained 
 glass door leading to a portico with balus- 
 trade and adjoining descending steps to 
 earth's grassy embrasure, and as a bright 
 echo of song she wends the grassy and gilded 
 sheaves and lights upon a scythe, the point 
 of which is sticking into a neighboring gar- 
 den-fence. Nimbly holding on to her coveted 
 prize, she hesitates for a minute in the 
 gilded sheaves, looking once again in the far 
 distance for the "Ship Coming In." 
 
 "A MEADOW LARK." 
 
 In the mild plumage of peasant attire, 
 Gracefully coiled golden hair is her crown 
 A waistcoat, blouse, and a short skirt she 
 
 wears 
 Bare feet and limbs are bathed in morning 
 
 dew. 
 
 Humanity's jewelled bird of earliest morn, 
 From all the world's conventionalism torn, 
 Happiest of all in her simplicity born. 
 She is of all that is unnatural shorn. 
 
 With this powerful scythe in her hand, 
 Children love the bird in every land. 
 Her shrill song wakes all to lovely morn, 
 Her garments rustle with tasseling corn. 
 
 As if of a sudden current of air she is 
 
198 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 aware, she gently bears down the high corn- 
 stalks, gracefully her weight is carried to- 
 ward the sea, in a bush near the end of a 
 corn-field her scythe vanishes. 
 
 She mingles with the chilly breezes of the 
 white morn, Hears of the "Ships' Coming" 
 by the sound of the fog horn. 
 
 Peering beneath the stone bridge, she picks 
 a treasure from a hiding place therein, 
 placing large peasant slippers on her feet, 
 she swiftly paces the stone bridge, wondering 
 if it might be that her fate she should meet. 
 
 A bearer of a French Priest's attire 
 By the wishes of a much "Loved Sire." 
 
 Leaning on the broad sill 
 Of lighthouse windows she wavers, 
 Slight haze and distant fog 
 Of danger slightly savors ; 
 But with a bird's keen eye 
 Of all that pertains to sky 
 Out of fog she sees the ship 
 From fear's zone riding by. 
 
 Tremulously she waits 
 
 With her morning flute; 
 
 But as the "Ship Comes In" 
 
 The birds view each other mute; 
 
 With corresponding music 
 
 Each nature vibrates, 
 
 Inspiring songs 
 
 Which are to each other mates. 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 199 
 
 True love's sweet song, 
 Vibrating on a golden harp, 
 Might sometime be caught 
 In fishermen's net as carp; 
 Beware, take care, 
 French Peasant and Priest disguise ; 
 Neighbor, Chateau Lord 
 Might who you are surmise. 
 
 The vaulted roof of the Abbe's library 
 echoed with the sweet songs of birds during 
 succeeding months. The gilded harp's tuned 
 accompaniment lent its harmony to the musi- 
 cal vibrations of hours of cherished com- 
 panionship. After several weeks had de- 
 lightfully slipped away, an early call of her 
 "Neighboring Lord" was heralded to Elise 
 by the Abbe. She knew that he had been 
 traveling during the past months, but ex- 
 pressed no surprise when his card slipped 
 fromx the Abbe's hand, as she and Franz sat 
 by the golden harp. With courtesy the 
 strangers met and the evening hours were 
 with pleasure lent by the narratives of his 
 lordship's late travels. A very cordial in- 
 vitation was extended for an evening near at 
 hand to be spent by the Abbe with Elise and 
 the "French Priest" at Le Comte's Chateau. 
 Plumed chevaux arrived a little time before 
 the appointed hour to conduct the guests to 
 the "palais." The "French Priest" had never 
 heard from Elise any mention of Le Comte 
 previous to their first meeting. 
 
200 THE FRENCH P^RIEST 
 
 During these twilight hours, as they were 
 conducted with pomp and chivalry, through 
 jardins of beautif action by many past genera- 
 tions, of collective historical sculpture inter- 
 mingled with playing stone fountains with 
 balustraded summer houses surrounding, en- 
 hancing the natural beauty of trees of ancient 
 lineage, flowering bushes of many varieties, 
 perfectly trimmed hedges and carpets of 
 grass with garden paths intermingled, his 
 heart found against its will a slight flavor of 
 possible rivalry. He could never offer as be- 
 longing to him beauty so perfectly suited to 
 her own, as he gazed enviously at her in at- 
 tire of exquisite outline. But the honesty of 
 her loving gaze, whenever their eyes met, 
 haunted him and he felt that it would be a 
 reproach of his own soul to hers, if he har- 
 bored for a minute an unexpressed harrassing 
 thought. With a keen eye to the fact that 
 the Abbe was slightly nodding, and that the 
 many balustrades of the piazzas of the 
 palais were within a stone's throw, he im- 
 pulsively hurled out of its conscience stricken 
 eddying whirlpool with a naive inquiry in the 
 French language of, 
 
 "All in all, forever, Elise?" 
 With Cupid's dart 
 Cleaving her heart 
 The form it graced 
 Adorer embraced, 
 With shake of dice 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 201 
 
 In the next trice, 
 She steps the stone 
 Count's carpeted throne. 
 
 The Abbe's momentary nodding concluded, 
 the next instant birds of the Hghtest heart 
 the Comte's domains. With the gilt leaf of 
 the harp showered upon her, Elise had never 
 been so entrancing. The joyful ripple of her 
 laughter assisted Le Comte in a strategic 
 entre nous. "Your spirit seems composed 
 this evening of the metal of the bright fish of 
 Le Conservatoire. I recently brought from 
 my travel some fine specimens of gold fish. 
 Possibly, Mademoiselle might wander there 
 with me, as Father Evere has conducted his 
 friend for a few minutes to see the season's 
 horses." Apologizing for this sudden depart- 
 ure to the lady, an elderly aunt, who had 
 graced his table as hostess, he successfully 
 bore Elise to the beautiful gold-fish foun- 
 tain. Neath the palms surrounding he re- 
 peatedly lay at her feet the grace of his 
 beautiful dominion. But just as often she 
 met him with quiet but firm refusal, and 
 very keenly watching him detected bitter, 
 revengeful lines searing his countenance. 
 With chivalry, however, he conducted her to 
 his hostess, but not in time for their absence 
 to. not be noticed by Father Evere, who had 
 previously returned with the "French Priest." 
 
 Near to a crumbling sea wall was the cot- 
 tage belonging to the jardinier of the monas- 
 
202 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 tery. Damp night sea-breezes were being 
 blown into an upper bed-room window on the 
 second floor. At intervals, laboring for 
 breath, the jardinier's wife was attended by 
 one of the visiting nurses of the monastery. 
 She bent low over the emaciated form, listen- 
 ing intently, endeavoring to gain intelligence 
 from words, many of which were inaudible. 
 With enduring patience she felt the feebly 
 beating pulse and finally softly breathed, "May 
 God help me to relieve this woman's last mo- 
 ments by confession. I think that she desires 
 to speak some one's name." She bent closer to 
 hear the faint words, "Ma — selle E—lise." 
 Administering a stimulant she determinedly 
 left the room and descended a small stair- 
 case, despatching a grandson of le jardinier 
 for Father Evere and his protege. The 
 flickering low light of an oil-lamp cast dis- 
 mal reflections, when a little later Elise knelt 
 at the death bed of a woman to whom she 
 had rendered kindness since childhood. The 
 Abbe stood at her side with his hand resting 
 on "la jeune fille's" golden head, as he 
 watched one wrestling with the throes of 
 Death to impart knowledge almost irrevo- 
 cably interwoven. From his heart a prayer as- 
 cended that the weakened Light of Life 
 might cast its last rays of intelligence. Ere 
 long the Lamp of Life went out, painting with 
 
 tongue of fire the words, "Strange men 
 
 French Priest Arrest." Meanwhile a 
 
 flaming bony finger had pointed in the di- 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 203 
 
 rection of the hall-way from which the 
 noise of loud, stumbling, uncertain steps of 
 the intoxicated jardinier was desecrating the 
 silence of the room of his wife at last 
 guarded by that ominous visitor, Death, which 
 forever holds a repellant hand to all save 
 the Angels of Everlasting Life guarding its 
 tomb. 
 
 In prayers and deep thought Father Evere 
 awaited the entrance of the jardinier. Sig- 
 nalling silence to Elise, he approached the 
 doorway where "le vieux homme" entered, and 
 laid his hand heavily on his shoulder. The 
 sudden movement caused his wretched being 
 to shiver with fright. But it had the desired 
 effect of bringing about consciousness to 
 reality. His stupid stare was dissipated in- 
 to one of fear, as he looked from the Abbe 
 toward the lifeless form of "sa Vielle femme." 
 But possessed by his life-time demon, he 
 thought but of himself, knowing at once that 
 she must have gained knowledge of and di- 
 vulged the plot, of which he had allowed him- 
 self to become a part, induced by men who had 
 indulged him in his worst enemy and enticed 
 him. "She always would spy into my af- 
 fairs," he muttered, almost unintelligibly. 
 But this only had the effect of having the 
 Abbe's hand laid yet more heavily on him, 
 and the force was accompanied by au- 
 thoritative words, "Wretched man that you 
 now are, 'votre vielle femme' has been all 
 that has stood between you and prison for 
 
204 THE FRENCH PRIEST 
 
 many years. For her sake I have kept you 
 from going there. Now, once again, by her 
 last pleading for you, her confession to us, 
 she will save you, if you tell us all that you 
 know of this intrigue. Fear was beginning 
 to lose its awakening power over the human 
 being, who had lived a great part of his life- 
 time under the influence of intoxication. 
 The plotting men had so thoroughly done 
 their work that the Abbe divined that in a 
 few minutes stupor would again ascend the 
 throne of reason. "Quick," said he, "Tell 
 the place of arrest and the time." He was 
 now flinching under the Abbe's grasp and ab- 
 jectedly muttered, "At dawn, I was to bring 
 him here with Ma'selle Elise to see 'ma vielle 
 femme' dying." 
 
 Disgust for the duplicity of the creature in 
 his grasp could not be altogether kept from 
 evincing itself in the Abbe's countenance, 
 even beneath his self control after many ex- 
 periences with erring humanity. It was but 
 a light shadow, however, which quickly 
 vanished. Then he loosened his hold on le 
 jardinier, and approached the visiting nurse, 
 who had returned and was flitting usefully 
 about the room. Le jardinier stumbled across 
 the floor until he fell heavily into a large 
 chair where he lay in stupor. "Ma Soeur," 
 said Father Evere rapidly, "there is no time 
 to be lost. S'il vous plait, Retournez avec 
 Mademoiselle Elise to the monastery and as- 
 sist her in packing a steamer trunk. I shall 
 
THE FRENCH PRIEST 205 
 
 hasten to apprise the French Priest of his 
 danger. Wary though the fox may be he is 
 *quelquefois' at bay. However, I know an 
 avenue of escape. A large boat Hes near to 
 the crumbhng sea-wall, which may be rowed 
 to a shore landing, from which a short walk 
 through woods leads to a railroad which 
 wends its way toward ocean travel. This 
 intrigue, which has undoubtedly been further- 
 ed by Le Comte's desire that his request of 
 Elise's hand in marriage will be granted by 
 me, has blocked us from all public roads of 
 travel. We must act before dawn." La 
 Soeur quickly glided from the room with 
 Elise whose pale face was lit with an ex- 
 pression of perfect trust in her loved Father 
 Evere. He shook the jardinier sufficiently 
 to awaken him, and told him to follow him, 
 as he needed assistance. Ere long the boat 
 sped from the dark shore with the disguised 
 Priest and Elise, who had received the bene- 
 diction of Father Evere as man and wife, 
 to meet in the Light of Day the ship bound 
 for the foreign land which harbors Liberty, 
 Equality, Fraternity (The Brotherhood of 
 Man).