LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. UN '^t Cypress Leaves; (IN MEMORIAM.) And Other Poe MS. DEDICATED TO Pvlunge within the grave. Make his consort cease to love him and his daughter to caress. And the home he loves to cherish like a barren wil- derness. Locked within some dungeon prison, let him waste his life away, Never breathing breath of freedom, never seeing light of day. Cursed be that rude official who this warrant exe- cutes ; Manhood sure has fled disgusted and descended into brutes. Such vile things as carry warrants and disgrace the courts assize. They are neither brute nor human, they are demons in disguise. Cursed be the State and city which such laws their sanction gave. And have made the poor and needy little better than a slave. 26 CYPRESS LEAVES. Let the stern oppressor tremble, for the wheels of time shall turn Till the poor, with dreadful vengeance, rise to slaughter and to burn. There shall come a day of reck'ning for the millionaire at last. And he'll listen to their pleading when his day of grace is past. As the doctor concluded the words of his terrible anathema our feelings, as you may imagine, were all more or less strained. Mrs. Clifton noticed my wife's evident terror and begged her not to be alarmed, as her husband was never known to do violence to any one except in a surgical way at their own request. "That may be very true,'^ replied my wife, "and yet I confess that to be the most terrible curse I ever heard a sane man utter." " Allow me to ask you, Dr. Clifton," I said, " if you know anything of the future history of the men who were the means of de- stroying your home ?" The doctor had now assumed his usual quiet demeanor, and after a moment's pause, he replied, " Well, it does seem strange, but they all came to a bad end. Of course, my curse had nothing whatever to do with it ; but it really seems to me that there is such a thing as retributive justice. The doctor died three years afterward of an obscure and incurable disease which baffled all medical skill. CYPRESS LEA VES. 37 The justice was tried for seduction, found guilty, and sent to the penitentiary for ten years. The constable met his death by violence in a low drinking-saloon in the suburbs of the city ; and three years later the city came very near being destroyed by the railroad riots, which Avere nothing more than the rising of the poor against monopoly and oppression." My wife said she believed firmly in retributive justice both in this life and that to come. Mrs. Clifton said she could freely endorse that belief. The doctor said he hoped it was true, and it seemed to be so, at least in this case. "Do you still hold the same sentiments, doc- tor," I inquired, " in reference to education and the medical profession as you did thirteen years ago ?" " No," he replied ; " I have been brought to regard both with much more favor. I will acknowledge that my language is a little strong, but I hope that my youth and want of experience and the great aggrava- tion of the case will be sufficient excuse for the lan- guage used. I now know that the medical profession contains some as noble and unselfish men as are to be found in any calling. AVhile I don't condemn schools and colleges nor disparage theory, yet I claim that they are insufficient, and that nothing will qualify a man for doing business but actual experience and contact with business men. Learning to do business," continued the doctor, " is very much like learning to skate on the ice with a crowd of professionals. The CYPRESS LEAVES. amateur will get some hard shoves and cut some awk- ward figures. He will lose his head occasionally. His capital will become a little shaky, and all of a sudden the bottom will fall out, and he will drop so hard as to see stars above and cut stars below ; but if he perseveres, he will be sure to leave his mark some- where." My wife and I both said that we thought he was quite correct in his observations on education and experience, and we were glad to know that he had at last attained the experience, although at a great cost. The boat had already reached the landing at the Hotel St. Louis. Our attention was attracted for the time by the transfer of passengers and the music from the band that was playing on the lawn in front of the hotel ; but when the boat was again on her way, the doctor continued his story as follows : While to Butler, then, I wandered by the Conequenes- sing side. Through the fairy town of Freeport, where I met my youthful bride, Bessie on to Leechburg journeyed with our darling little one. Where the Kiskiminitas sparkles in the morning sun. There did Bessie meet her kindred, where in child- hood she did roam : CYPRESS LEA VES. 2 'J Birdie saw her great-grandmother in her quiet cot- tage liome ; Bessie's mother also joined them in the little country town, And old grandma saw her children for three genera- tions down. "'Tell me, Birdie," said old grandma, "whence these golden ringlets came ? Bessie, you are like my Maggie, but you have your grandma's name. All my kindred back were noted for their black and glossy hair ; All the men were brave and honest, all the daughters very fair." " It was evening," said the doctor, " and they were all sitting around the great fireplace in the little cot- tage. Old grandma occupied her arm-chair directly in front of the fire, while her grandchild Bessie sat at her right and her daughter Maggie at her left. She had just been enjoying a quiet smoke, but now, when little Birdie came up to her, grasped her wrink- led hand and looked up into her face, she seemed to wake as from a reverie. She knocked the ashes out of lier pipe, laid it on the mantel, took her great- grandchild on her knee, put back her curls with her wrinkled hands, kissed her, and then told the follow- ing story : 30 CYPRESS LEAVES. GEANDMOTHER^S STORY. Oh, well do I remember, child. Just sixty years ago, A little girl with golden curls — Her name was Jennie Stow. These fertile fields and meadows green Were then a forest wild. And often to my door there came This little blue-eyed child. The screaming of the catamount Did make the woods resound. And in the dark and stormy nights The gray wolf prowled around. The black bear then was seen by day To climb these mountains high. And in the forest late at night Was heard the panther's cry. The hunter with his gun and dog These rocky steeps did scale. And still there lingered in the woods The redman's bloody trail. The wild roe sported in the glen ; The buck, with cautious eye. CYPRESS LEAVES. 31 Suspicious snuffed the passing breeze, And tossed his antlers high. The turkey gobbled in the wild, And oft, at early daAvn, Upon the banks across the stream Was seen the spotted fawn. Tliis thriving village which you see Was then almost unknown — Two cabins built of unhewn logs, With chimneys built of stone ; A country store, a blacksmith shop, A rusty tavern stand, And half a dozen fearless men Were all we could command. But I forget ; I just began To tell of Jennie Stow, A little girl with golden curls — 'Twas sixty years ago. She came, one cold and wintry night. Up to my cabin door, To get some meal to make some cakes. For they were very poor. I filled her sack, but greatly feared 'J'o send lier foi'tli alone ; 33 , CYPRESS LEAVES. She kissed me then and left my door. But never reached her home. Next morning in the hazel-brake The empty sack was found, And near it lay her little shawl. All frozen to the ground. The men turned out with guns and dogs. And hunted high and low, But failed to find another trace Of little Jennie Stow. The hungry wolf made her his prey. Or panther from the glen ; Or else she met a sadder fate With wild and savage men. ^Tis not a fable. Birdie dear, This mournful tale is true ; And that sweet child with golden curls Looked very much like you. Our attention was now attracted by a little pleasure boat called the Saucy Kate. She was blowing her whistle as a warning for the big boat to get out of the way, as if she was lady of the lake, although we could have put the entire boat in our pilot-house. She was just passing Ferguson Point on her way from CYPRESS LEAVES. 33, Excelsior to Wayzata, and was puffing and splashing like a Scotch terrier at a mastiff. Tlie ladies saluted us in passing by a flutter of handkercliiefs, and we returned the compliment by waving ours. The beau- tiful cottages at Ingleside now lay to our left, while Island Park lay to our right, and a beautiful little island called Bright Wood appeared directly in front of the vessel. "Let me see, now," said the doctor; " where was I when I was interrupted ?" " You had just concluded the grandmother's story, doctor," re- plied my wife. " Oh, yes," he replied ; " and can you tell me, Bessie, how long your grandmother has been dead ?" " About nine years, Cyrus," she replied. The doctor then continued as follows : Then grandma wiped a tear away, and rocked her to and fro ; Iler memory seemed to wander back to days of long ago. The child and Bessie shook with fear, and uttered not a word ; It seemed as though about the door the prowling wolves they heard. Just then I stepped upon the porch and heard a great uproar, As some one rushed across the room and quickly locked the door. 34 CYPRESS LEAVES. Then all was quiet in the house, while I began to shout, " If you intend to let me in, why do you lock me out r Then Bessie set the portal wide — ''Why, goodness gracious. Doc, We thought you were a savage wild, you gave us such a shock !" *' Well, so I am ; you'd better wish your head was now a block ; For here's my scaljiing-knife," said I, '' and here's my tomahawk." Just then I laid a carver down, which in the light did gleam. Beside an axe which I had found in crossing o'er the stream. They all had then a hearty laugh, enjoyed the joke awhile, While Birdie's welcome shouts of joy caused old grandma to smile. " This is my husband now, grandma, who on the rail has been ; And, doctor, this is grandmamma, whom you have never seen. " CYPBE88 LEAVES. 35 Then old grandma put on her specs and gazed awhile at me ; Then looked at little golden hair, that sat upon my knee. " Well, doctor, I have often heard, and doubtless so have you, The father's image in the child doth prove the mother true. **I'm sure my grandchild Bessie here a faithful wife will make ; And you will love her for this child, and for her own dear sake." We stayed all night and all next day, and when the eve had come We all were seated round the fire within the cottage home. The sun now sunk behind the hills and soft the twi- light fell As we put on our coats and wraps, and turned to say farewell. We were now entering Excelsior Bay, and had a fine view of the town in the distance. The passengers waiting at Excelsior had already sighted the boat, and were waving their handkerchiefs. We all arose to 36 CYPRESS LEAVES. our feet. To the right appeared Lake Park, "while to the left we could see the cottages at Edgewood and Hickory Point. While the boat was nearing the landing, the doctor concluded this part of his story by giving us GEANDMOTHEK^S PEOPHECY. " Good-by, grandma, you shall meet us when we've seen a better day. And the brilliant star of fortune shines across our thorny way ;" " Good-by, children, old grandmother scarce can totter to the door ; But I feel within my bosom I shall never see you more. "Many years you'll struggle onward, breasting every stormy blast ; But your hearts were born to conquer, you will over- come at last. But before this happy blessing shall upon my children come. Many years shall old grandmother sleep within her silent tomb. "Good-by, children, may God bless you, old grandma can say no more ;" Then she kissed the child and mother, weeping at her cottage-door ; CYPRESS LEAVES. 37, Then she watched our parting footsteps winding down the river-side, Till she saw our trusty boatman safe across the waters glide. During the transfer of passengers at Excelsior, I gave the doctor a cigar and lit one myself, and we walked about the deck, and quietly enjoyed the sur- rounding scenery. A band of colored jubilee singers came on board, Avho entertained the passengers at odd times during the day by their fine violin and banjo music and quaint plantation songs. " That," I said, pointing to the left and addressing the ladies, who were walking in front of us, "is called St. Alban's Bay, and this body of water to the right Grideon's Bay." They all thought the scenery very romantic. Just then the bell tapped, and the boat backed out from the landing and turned her bow toward Lake Park, while the jubilee singers favored us with a song. As we passed the ice-water tank we each got a fresh drink of pure lake water, and after being seated on the shady side of the boat, the doctor continued his story as follows : Then to Blairsville we proceeded, and arrived at early dawn ; Then to Indiana travelled, and to old Kittanning town. 38 CYPRESS LEA VES. Then returning through Terrentum^ where our feet had learned to roam, We arrived in Allegheny, which of late had been our home. Sought we now in Southern cities broken fortunes to restore. Where the broad Ohio Eiver washes West Virginia's shore. But our little angel daughter never ceased our lives to bless ; Never ceased to be our comfort in the hours of our distress. Here we prospered for a little, and good fortune seemed to smile. And the goddess here relenting, seemed to favor us awhile. But her favors were but fickle and of momentary kind ; Nothing stable here to rest on, nothing permanent we find. Then through Wellsville and Alliance, and the country looking forth To Eavenna we proceeded, and to Hudson in the north. Then to Akron came at sunset, where the county fair was held ; CYPRESS LEAVES. 39 And we saw a hundred workshops making wares for farm and field. Here for six more weeks we Hngered, in this fair Ohio town ; Saw the mighty farming engines, and canal-boats creeping down ; Saw the great and dusty flour-mills, with the chain works forge and brand ; Heard the deafening ring of knife Avorks, heard the sweet Italian band. Onward then we took our journey from the Cuyahoga stream Northward to the Forest City, where Lake Erie's waters gleam ; Here we took our little Birdie, in the summer even- ing's glow, Out upon the placid waters, as the wavelets onward flow. When she saw the restless waters washing up the golden sand, Says she, "Papa, do they rest not ? Do they never quiet stand ?" *' No, my child ; in ages past nothing could the Avaves control ; And in ages yet to come, onAvard shall the Avaters roll." 40 CYPBESS LEAVES. Back we journeyed then to Pittsburg, where the smoky columns rise, And a thousand dusky temples point their steeples to the skies ; Then behind the mighty engine speed we o'er the iron rails. Till the cottages of Greensburg shine among the east- ern hills. Through Latrobe and ancient Blairsville, leaving Johnstown far behind. On we fly o'er hills and valleys, like the strong No- vember wind. Till we pass the long black tunnel, and Kittanning Point attend. Arid we saw the road descending in the wondrous Horseshoe Bend. Then upon the platform standing — sight appalling to be seen — We beheld the mountain gorges clad in ever-living green. Many thousand feet below us, from the summit's giddy height, We could see the road descending, till the view was lost to sight. Then upon the distant mountains, as our eyes beheld again. CYPRESS LEAVES. 41 We could see the busy farmer raking up the golden grain; Far above appeared the summit in the sunlight's mel- low glow, And beneath the mighty engine plunging to the plains beloAV. From Altoona in the valley on we fly through old Tyrone, Till we reach the Susquehanna, proud, majestic, and alone. Bearing on her surging bosom, from the land of spruce and pine, Logs to build our merchant vessels, that shall visit every clime. Then to Harrisburg proceeded, o'er a bridge of many spans ; Onward in that fertile valley Lancaster in beauty stands. Here the iron engine halted, panting like a tired steed. And a dozen barrels of water must supply his present need. And the long train bumped and jostled, like a drunk- ard Avhen he reels. And we heard the iron hammer tapping all the metal wheels ; 42 CTPEESS LEAVES. Now it gave a snort in starting which the trembling earth sent back, And we saw the sparks of fire fly like chaff along the track. As we neared the marble city on the Schuylkill's glassy banks, We beheld the towering steeples rise like sentinels in ranks ; And about the Union depot, as the long train thun- dered in, Gongs were sounding, drivers yelling, with an ever- lasting din. Far to eastward thus we drifted, where the nations from afar Had assembled ; where our fathers saw the nation's natal star ; Where oppression down was trampled, and the shout of freedom's song Full one hundred years resounded o'er a nation young and strong. Birdie saw the worlds assembled, saw the wonders of all lands ; Saw the jieople of all nations and the work of skilful hands. Many were her looks of wonder, many questions asked she o'er. CYPRESS LEA VES 43 Till exhausted nature found her sleeping on the marble floor. Wheresoe'er by day we wandered in the' Exposition stand, Some one had a smile for Birdie, some one took her by the hand ; Some Avould stroke her yellow ringlets, some admire her skin so white ; Some were with her smile enraptured and her eyes so large and bright. AVas it strange that she was noticed 'mong the mill- ions gathered there ? AVas it strange she was admired for her eyes and gold- ■en hair ? Surely something more than brown eyes, something more than golden curls Shone about the little mortal, to attract the praise of worlds. Here for many weeks we lingered, in this city of the free. Where the Delaware its waters rolls in beauty to the sea ; Sojourned then awhile in Camden, fairest gem in Jersey laid, AV'ith her palaces of marble and her trees of grateful shade. 44 CYPRESS LEAVES. Then we took our journey southward from the nation's greatest fair To the Monumental City, through the towns of Dela- ware ; Then to Washington proceeded, where that loyal man and great Eeared tlie Capitol majestic, with its dome of regal state. Leaving then the regal city, where Potomac's waters run. Soon we saw the blazing headlight point toward the setting sun ; Passing many sunny meadows, where the shepherds feed their flocks. Soon we reached the little village which is called the Point of Eocks. Just across the broad Potomac, on Virginia's golden sand, Eose the lights of Harper's Ferry, Avhere old John Brown made a stand ; While along the crystal river we were dying quick and fast. We inhaled the mountain breezes rising on the even- ing blast. While we crossed the mountain ranges on the good Ohio line. CYPRESS LEA VES. 45 Darkness held his reign around us and the stars for- got to shine. Cumberhmd we reached at midnight, and .when Graf- ton we descried, Saw the hills of West Virginia stretching far on either side. Back we carried little Birdie on the flying midnight train, Over mountains, over bridges, passing fields of waving grain ; Back again to friendly Wheeling, which we left a year before. City she of lasting friendship, on the fair Ohio shore. Poverty with bony fingers stretched his sceptre o'er us there, And the sable hand of sickness furrowed every brow with care. Oh, that cold and cruel winter ! Fierce the storm howled overhead ; But yet fiercer than the storm wind was* the- cry that rose for bread. As we waited for the dawning of a bright and better day. Came to us another daughter from the land that's far away ; 46 CYPRESS LEAVES. She the image of her mother;, all except her golden hair ; Gray her eyes were like the dawning, and her features wondrous fair. " Shall we name the little stranger ? What sweet name shall we impart Ta this little ray of sunshine that now slumbers on my heart ?" Tims the mother spoke inquiring ; then said Birdie, " Let me tell : Call my little sister Daisy, for a second name add Dell." What a gorgeous scene presented itself to our view as we approached Lake Park I Surely there is not a more beautiful place in all the world. The tall and graceful oaks and elms, with their straight trunks, lifted their spreading branches above a lawn as green as emerald and as soft and smooth as a velvet carpet. The grand and elegant Park Hotel nestled among the trees like an island of snow in a sea of green. A brass band was discoursing sweet music from the veranda, while dozens of ladies and children dressed in gay colors were seen skipping and dancing over the green grass. As the bank rose several feet above the water's edge, all this gorgeous scene was again pictured and mirrored in the crystal lake. We had CTPBESS LEA VE8. 47 all risen to our feet^, and stood mute and transfixed with admiration for the enchanting scene before us as the boat approached the landing. I suggested that perhaps we had better stop here for the "balance of the day, but the ladies said they were out to see the lakes, and objected to having their trip abridged. After the band at the hotel ceased playing, the jubilee singers on the boat favored us with one of their plan- tation songs, accompanied by music, which elicited a great deal of applause from the crowd on shore. I now suggested that we have a glass of beer while the passengers were being transferred ; but as the ladies did not wish to join us in this beverage, we were com- pelled to go alone. When we rejoined the company the boat had already left the landing ; so after we were seated, the doctor thus continued his story : THE FIEE. ^Twas midnight in September, We all were fast asleep. And not a sound or warning Disturbed the quiet deep. When through our peaceful slumbers The cry of lire did break. And loud the night patrolman Was calling us to Avake. 48 CYPRESS LEAVES. A smoke from burning carpets Came from the room below. While out upon the pavement We saw a lurid glow. 1 threw the casement open, Set wide the chamber door, And down the winding stairway The little children bore. I gave them to a neighbor, Who took them from the street ; Then up the stairs ascending, I rushed with flying feet. My wife had swooned with terror Upon the chamber floor ; I raised her in an instant. And tried to find the door. The flames had reached the stairway, Eetreat thereby Avas vain ; So to the open window I found my way again. Upon the low veranda I now leaped with a bound ; Then down the roof descending. Again leaped to the ground. The flames that wrapped the dwelling The midnight sky illumed ; CYPRESS LEAVES. 49 We saw in one short hour Our household goods consumed. The morning found me homeless. Deprived of everything Save wife and two small children, Who round my neck did cling. " Oh, helpless wife and children !" Was heard my bitter cry ; " Why are we so unlucky — 'Tis better we should die !" *' No ! no V said Bessie, praying, " To grief do not succumb ; Remember grandma's saying, " A happy day shall come.' " Our fortunes have been blighted By fire and selfish men ; All things by time are righted. We'll try it once again. Although our goods are wasted And scattered to the winds. While death we have not tasted. The star of hope remains." Then we left the Southern city, and through Steuben- ville we passed ; Leaving Wellsville in our Journey, came to Liverpool at last. 50 CYPRESS LEAVES. Here we found both friends and plenty in this garden of the West, And though small our daily earnings, yet we never were distressed. These we think the brightest moments ever yet our lives had blessed ; Look they now like green oases in the desert of the past. True, our income was but meagre, and we lived on frugal fare ; But the days were bright and cheerful with the friend- ships cherished there. Liverpool we left in April, passing through Alliance town ; Leaving Canton in our journey, we arrived at Massil- lon. In the Tuscarawas Valley, where I brought my babes and wife, Though the land was like a garden, still the struggle was for life. Dark the night before the morning on that coming fourth of May, And our darling little treasures on their dreamy pil- lows lay. As the angels, sweeping downward, now the poor man's cottage blessed. X CYPRESS LEAVES. 51 And a jewel fresh from lieaven dropped within our cradle nest. This^ the last, we thought the sweetest, "as her infant form we view ; Brown her hair was, like the chestnut, and her eyes of heavenly blue. Little May from heaven descended, wondrous path by angels trod ; Not the image of her parents, but the image of her God. But our lives run in a circle, and to Pittsburg we return. Where a hundred mills of iron by a thousand engines turn ; And the sooty smoke of labor, shutting out the rays of light, Hangs above the smoky city like a curtain of the night. While the little girls were playing, where the busy highways meet. Birdie, who was ever watchful of the dangers of the street. Spied a team of horses frightened bounding down the narrow way. Onward coming, like the whirlwind, where the little sisters play. ."•2 aYPEElSS LEA VES. Quick as thought her sister Daisy in her girlish arms she caught, Flew to save her from the danger — never of herself she thought ; Safe from death impending brought her to the sidewalk from the street, Just in time the child to rescue from the tramp of horses' feet. Often when her fainting mamma could not raise her aching head. Birdie, like a little angel, watched all day beside her bed. Birdie, like a little mother, cared for Daisy and for May, AVhile her mamma, weak and helpless, on a bed of sickness lay. Just as the doctor uttered the last sentence we were startled by a report of firearms, and looking to the right, toward Island Park, we saw a couple of wild ducks flutter in the air and fall into the -water. We saw the hunters on shore send out two dogs, who swam to the ducks, caught them in their mouths, and swam to shore again. This was great amusement for the chil- dren, and they expressed their joy by shouting and clap- ping their hands, and asking a hundred and one ques- tions about the dogs, the ducks, the guns, and the men. CYPRESS LEAVES. 53 They finally wound up by making us promise to get each a gun and dog and flock of ducks, and go a- hunting with them. The doctor had evidently lost the string of his story, and had to call his wife to his assistance. " Where did we move to next, Bessie ?" "To the Allegheny Valley, doctor," she replied. "Don't you remember the flood?" "Oh, yes; I didn't think I should ever forget that !" and he con- tinued by giving us the story of THE FLOOD. Then we went to live in Sharpsburg, Which a pleasant valley fills. Where the rushing Allegheny Sweeps along between the hills. There the waters swiftly rising. On a dark and stormy night. Flooded all the lower story. Hid the kitchen out of sight. Round about the little cottage Drift in random ruin piled. And the mad and surging waters Circled round us fierce and wild. Then I carried out the children, Placed them on the gravel shore. 54 CYPRESS LEAVES. And the fainting form of Bessie Through the angry waters bore. Then we carried back to Pittsburg What the muddy waters left ; But we mourned our buried treasures. Like a heart that is bereft. Three more years of toil and labor in the smoky city spent. And, though always blest with plenty, yet we never were content ; For the ghostly hand of sickness ever hung above our heads ; Many days and nights of watching had we by our dar- lings^ beds. Sighed we now for lands of sunshine, where our chil- dren might be free From the city's vile corruption and the air's impurity ; Free to roam among the flowers, in some quiet village home. There to read the book of nature, and no more desire to roam. We now caught sight of the fa9ades and gables of the Hotel Lafayette at Minnetonka Beach, five miles away. We all ascended to the hurricane deck in order CYPRESS LEAVES. 55 that we might have a better view of tliis famous watering-place as the vessel approached the beach. Our eyes now rested on a scene of great beauty. Here was the beach, with its many pavilions and gravel walks ; farther on was the park, with its green lawns, fine drive-ways, and fountains playing in the sun, while in the background loomed up the majestic Hotel Lafayette, with its long veranda. On the veranda or promenading the park were hundreds of people in summer dress, and we could now see the flutter of handkerchiefs and catch the strains of music from the brass band. While the great steamer was approaching the landing, and our eyes were feasting on its gorgeous beauty, the doctor continued his story as follows : EMIGRATING TO THE NORTH-WEST. In man's checkered life comes a moment suj^reme. When he launches his boat at the head of the stream ; "Tis a moment supreme, and it can't be denied. When he launches his bark at the flood of the tide. From life's golden banks, then, if onward he goes. He gathers perennial fruit as it grows ; If outward he floats with the ebb of the tide. The diamond and emerald blaze at his side. There now came a moment to me, to be brief, AVlien life seemed a burden and death a relief. 56 CYPRESS LEAVES. From all our life's sowing for many long years. For harvest we reaped but affliction and tears. When prostrate with sickness and fainting with pain, And never expecting my health to regain, And praying the path might appear to our view Which leads up to health and prosperity too, I heard of a clime in the far-distant West Where they might be happy and I might be blest. Where poverty's burden we never should know. And health-giving breezes forever should blow. 'Twas then through the darkness I saw a great light, And out of the gloom rose the star of my night. It seemed as if fortune that moment had found AVhen poverty's chain I should burst with a bound. " Oh, no ! no !'' said Bessie, " don't go, doctor, stay ! The place that you speak of is far, far away. The winters, I hear, are so bleak and so cold, To live there one season would make me grow old. In summer the icicles hang on the trees. And all through the winter we'll shiver and freeze. The lakes and the rivers are froze so throughout. That all the long summer they never thaw out. That cordwood and fuel is sold by the pound. And fires in the parlors burn all the year round. One cannot go walking without a bear-skin, Or buffalo and beaver, from ankle to chin. CYPRESS LEAVES 57 They crawl in their cellars to hide from the storm, And horses wear leggings to keep themselves warm. To go to that climate would surely be cruel ; AVe'd never get cash to buy flannels and fuel/' " I know, my dear Bessie, the winters are cold, But summers are pleasant, I've often been told. I'll fear not the winters, nor icy North-west, When I've gained a dwelling for those I love best. To help our condition I surely shall try ; To stay in this climate for me is to die." The farewell of Birdie my bosom still warms ; She twined round my shoulders her lily-white arms. And wept on my bosom her sorrows and fears — " Eemember me, papa," she begged through her tears. ''' I'll think of you. Birdie, when far, far away, And send for my darling some bright summer day ; I'll carry you then to our own cottage home. And never again from my little girl roam. And when we have all been united again. We'll live to forget this sad parting and pain." Then Daisy and Mamie came toddling by. And wondered why mamma and Birdie should cry ; Embracing I kissed them full twenty times o'er. And out from their presence my bosom I tore. 68 CYPEESS LEAVES. Then, leaving my home and my darlings behind, We speed o'er the rail like the wings of the wind ; And soon in the air of the broad, rolling West, The warm blood of life courses fast through my breast. I found in that valley of wonders untold What twelve years of struggle had failed to unfold ; Both health and prosperity came with the tide. And currents of happiness rolled by my side. I sent for my family that they, too, might see What fortune had granted for them and for me. And when they came on my bosom was blest As the bosoms that heave in that haven of rest. The bondage of want in a moment gave way To freedom, which comes with prosperity's day, When the greed of the bondsman no more could oppress. And the lust of the landlord could never distress. When the doctor concluded this story, the boat had already touched the landing at Minnetonka Beach. It took some time to transfer passengers at this point, as a great many get on here for the short excursion to the head of the lake and back. Who has not observed with what interest spectators watch passengers as they go aboard or leave a vessel or train of cars, even though they have no friends to welcome or say fare- CYPRESS LEAVES. 59 well to ? What causes this curiosity is hard to tell, unless it be the appearance of strange faces or the possibility of never again seeing those that are leaving. And who has not noticed with what apparent thought- lessness and sense of security persons will board a vessel or train, never thinking that they give their lives for the time being to the safe-keejjing of the engineer or pilot ! From our elevated position on the bow of the hurricane-deck we admired the smil- ing faces and gay costumes of the ladies and their escorts till the last passenger had been transferred, and the vessel backed out from the landing and was again on her way. I then suggested that we go down to the ladies' parlor for refreshments. A general con- sent being given to this invitation, we all descended to the parlor, and sat down around a marble-top table. I ordered some cake and a couple bottles of champagne, and while we were enjoying the sparkling beverage the doctor gave us the following story : OUR FIRST YEAR IN THE NORTH-WEST. Summer had gone like a phantom, and autumn now lay on the threshold ; Autumn with fruits ever golden and leaves of yellow and crimson. Now the atmosphere hazy shone o'er the • broad Mississippi, 60 CYPRESS LEAVES. Shone like the Indian summer or smoke from burning prairies. Where in days long forgotten down from the hills and the meadows Came in herds the wild buffalo to bathe in the Father of Waters ; Now from the highlands and grain-fields farmers have gathered the harvest. And in the barns of the peasant is heard the sound of the thresher. As in days that are vanished stretched the trail of the red man Through a forest of birchwood over the grassy prairies. And the Sioux and Dakotas hunted the deer and the bison ; Now on the banks of that river stretch the streets of a city. Past the buildings of commerce, through a forest of dwellings. And the merchant and tradesman greedily hunt one another, While the doctor and lawyer gather the spoils of the battle. After long days of searching for rooms both neat and convenient, CYPRKSS LEAVES. 61 Not very far from my office I had found a neat little cottage. This had I rented and furnished, and lai.d in a store of provisions. Knowing that rest would be welcome to Bessie and three little children. After their journey to meet me from far off West Pennsylvania, Rest for a night would be welcome, and sleep both sweet and refreshing. Maples there stood round the cottage like sentinels guarding the door- way. And over the roof of the dwelling the leaves were flying and falling ; Falling in richest profusion were leaves of the maple and cotton. And over the children's play-ground were heaps of golden and crimson. Here from morning till evening the children sported and gambolled ; Called to the birds in the branches that sported and gambolled above them ; Caught at the leaves that were falling, and tossed them again to the breezes ; Swung in the hammock when tired, or carried food for the chickens. 63 CYPRESS LEAVES. Built of small boards a play-house, and used the leaves for a carpet ; Fed the chicks in their cages, fed with corn the game rooster. Under the maple and cottonwood rolled and rippled their laughter, Clear as the voice of the clarion heard at the dawn of the morning. Soft and sweet as the zephyrs that play in the branches at noon-day. Now the chill blasts of December sweeping down from the northward Drove the children within doors ; housed them there for the winter ; Here all through the winter played they with blocks and with pictures. Letters sent to old Santa, and looked for the coming of Christmas. Or sung in a chorus of voices hymns from the Sabbath hymn-book ; Sang of the heavenly mansions, and of how Jesus loves little children ; Sang of the beautiful river, and flowers in Paradise blooming ; Sang of a city eternal, with gates of pearl and jasper ; CYPRESS LEA VES. 63 Sang of a youth ever vernal, and sweet as the morning of childhood ; Sang of the heavenly glory, while mamma played on the organ. Then when the weather permitted went to the Sabbath-school often ; Went with their mamma on Sunday to Sabbath-school nearest our dwelling. Christmas came with its presents, presents for each of the children, And New Year cold and chilly, with snow that dazzled and blinded. But though the winter was dreary, yet we were happy and cheerful. Blessed with health and prosperity, knowing no want or affliction. Now came the thaws of the spring-time, and the snow and ice disappeared. And the warm sun of the noon-day shone through the small cottage windows. The trees that circled our dwelling shook off their crystallized garments. And broke into buds and blossoms at the warm approach of the sunlight. The birds appeared in the branches and sang their songs of rejoicing, 04 CYPRESS LEAVES. As by magic the grass and the flowers sprang to new life and new histre. The children broke from the cottage as prisoners break from a prison, And laughed and shouted in rapture to see all nature rejoicing. Then Bessie bought them a playmate, a beautiful curly Newfoundland ; Eight from the breasts of its mother she carried it home for the children. Many a frolic had Carlo with the little girls under the shade trees. When Carlo was lying and sleeping the girls used his sides for a pillow ; And when they went walking at evening the dog was their guard and protector. Daisy and May had two playmates, sweet little girls of our neighbor ; Gracie and May kept them company all through the beautiful spring-time. All through the long months of summer played with them under the shade-trees. Birdie then wanted a carriage, wanted a pony to draw it ; So Bessie bought them a carriage, and I bought a horse white and gentle. CTPRE8S LEAVES. 65 Many a ride in the evening had they with Frank and the carriage ; Many a journey by daylight out to the falls Minnehaha ; Many and happy the journeys out to the lakes and the waterfalls. Often taking for company Carlo the curly Newfoundland. Then in the long summer evenings took we the children by twilight Far out the beautiful avenues, sometimes returning by moonlight. Often the babies were sleeping when we returned to the cottage. Thus passed the beautiful summer ; the first twelve months in the North-West Passed like a primitive Eden, blessed with joys never ceasing ; Joys too sweet to be lasting ; happiness doomed to be blasted. As the doctor finished this part of his story we heard the big bell ring, and supposing we were near- ing some landing, we all went out on to the passenger deck, when we discovered that we were passing the Narrows. We leaned over the side-railing to see how the great vessel crowded the water out of the channel in passing, and were pleased to see how it rushed in 66 VTPRESS LEAVES. again and filled up the channel after the vessel had passed out. " That/' said my wife, " goes to prove a maxim in philosophy, that no two bodies can occupy the same space at the same time/' " Oh, yes, I re- member," replied Mrs. Clifton ; "I learned that Avhile I was at boarding-school ; ' and the amount of water displaced by the hull of the vessel is inversely as its specific gravity.' Am I not correct, Cyrus ?" " I am afraid not, my dear," replied the doctor ; "I guess you had a very liberal matron at your boarding- school, and that the fine arts were pursued to the great neglect of the sciences." His wife looked at him very suspiciously as she inquired, " Which of the fine arts, doctor, do you refer to ?" ''' The feminine arts, of course," he replied, " such as banging the hair, painting the lips and cheeks, and pencilling the eyebrows ; filling a cavity or compressing a bulge, and thus beautifying, adorning, and correcting where mother nature had been prolix or deficient." These remarks created a great laugh, and Mrs. Clifton now warned the doctor that she was considerably in his debt, but would make a full settlement in the fu- ture. " I don't know anything about philosophy," said the doctor, ''but I know that the amount of champagne displaced is in exact ratio with the de- pletion of the doctor's purse." ''And I suppose," added my wife, " that the amount of ardent spirits used is in exact proportion to the amount of evil CYPRESS LEA VES. 67 spirits infused into the man." ''Yes," I replied, ''or animal spirits diffused from a woman." Mrs. Clifton thought it would be better for both sexes and the human race generally if all intoxicants were transfused to the gutter. My wife said she was sure the liquor license had been abused, and hoped that the drinking habit would soon pass into " innocuous desuetude." Dr. Clifton seemed somewhat confused at the drift the conversation was taking, and asked to be excused from giving any further opinion on the subject. As I observed the faces of the ladies were becoming suffused, I suggested a trip to the hurricane- deck, and thought the children might be amused by seeing the jiilot turn the wheel. The children danced with joy at this proposition ; so we all returned again to the hurricane-deck, where the two ladies and Dr. Clifton sat down under the canopy. I asked the ladies if they could entertain the doctor while I and the children went up to see the pilot ; they replied that the doctor should entertain tliem. So I took the children, one in each hand, and ascended the steps to the pilot-house. We found the pilot to be an ex- ceedingly pleasant and congenial fellow. He invited us all to a seat in the pilot-house, where the children were wild with curiosity, and asked no end of questions about the wheel and how it guided the big boat, and about the many ropes that led to the whistle, the big bell, and the engineer's room. After I had left Avith 68 CYPRESS LEAVES. the children my wife urged Dr. Clifton to continue his story. He looked out upon the water for some time in silence. " Can you tell me," he inquired, " what land that is we are approaching ?" My wife said she thought it was Spring Park. " Strange/' he replied ; '"^the leaves on the trees look from here as though they were already turning." His face now assumed its usual expression of extreme sadness as he thus began : THE FEVER. Now Summer folds her verdant robes And lays her sceptre by. And Nature sees her queenly form Departing with a sigh. The shadows long and deep and dark Athwart the threshold fall. And fading leaves on every tree Hang o'er us like a pall. A pale thin form with moiu-ning weeds Now enters at the door. Whose ghastly form upon our hearth Shall linger evermore. Now tokens dark our pulses chill Of death's approaching power — The watch-dog howling on the hill At midnight's lonely hour ; CYPRESS LEAVES. r)9 The white horse neighing in the stall When waiting to be fed ; The death watch ticking in the wall Close by our children's bed. The looking-glass that lately hung Upon the parlor wall Has snapped the cord from which it swung And broken by the fall. Appalling visions of the night Now wake me from repose ; I saw the muddy waters deep Around my children close. Then starting from my troubled sleep I gaze upon their bed ; Their little faces seem to me Like faces of the dead. I hear them talking of their plays And breathing short and deep ; Then springing quickly to their side, I wake them from their sleep. I fondly kiss their troubled lips. And breathe a fervent prayer That God would bless and keep them safe ; Then to my couch repair. 70 CYPRESS LEA VES Then Birdie first began to fail And lose her love for play, While fever spots upon her cheeks Grew brighter day by day. Not having taste for healthy food, And troubled was her rest, While thick, and dark the fevered blood Went bounding through her breast. *' Pray tell me now, papa," she said, *' Why my poor head should ache ? Why through my heart there flies a dart. As if the cords would break ? ^'A heavy feeling clogs my breath And to my brain extends ; While down my arm the lances dart Clear to my finger-ends. " Prepare me, mamma, for my bed ; Put on my new white gown ; And when my evening prayer is said. Then lay me softly down. " There, that will do ; now then your hand Beneath my pillow keep. And let me kiss you all good-night Before I fall asleep. CTPRESS LEAVES. 71 " I'll see you in the morning, May, Good-night, sweet golden-head ; You'll not forget my faithful dog. And see that Frank is fed." Thus Birdie took her bed of pain With hot and aching head, And many anxious days and nights We watched beside her bed ; But never once heard her complain Nor wish that she was well ; The Godlike patience she displayed No mortal tongue can tell. At last the raging fever broke. And quiet was her rest ; But left her feeble as a child Upon its mother's breast. Her little hands so pale and thin Upon her bosom lay. That whether living hands or dead ' Were difficult to say. Her feeble mind was childish, too. And longed for childish things ; We bought her then a handsome doll. And golden finger-rings. TZ CYPRESS LEAVES. A rabbit for a pet we bought Our darling to surprise, With fur as soft as eider-down. And large and lustrous eyes. But slowly came her wasted strength. Her convalescence slow. Till from her weary bed at length We dared to let her go. Next Daisy Dell began to dwine And hang her little head. And fever-spots upon her cheeks Grew livid, dark, and red. Then spoke the idol of our home, '' Come, take me out, ma, please ; I want to see the children come And play beneath the trees. " I want to see my Carlo dog About the garden run, And see again my pussy-cat Lay sleeping in the sun. " I want to see my horsie gray Drink water at the spring ; I want to see my chickies play. And hear the birdies sing." CYPRESS LEAVES. 73 " 0, Daisy, most beloved child ! I fain would let you go ; To hear your pleading breaks my heart. But prudence answers no. " A fever now like ^Etna's fires Consumes my darling child ; If I should lose my household pet, The loss would drive me wild." The fever now raged fierce and high. And wild delirium came ; Her little head and hands and feet Were burning like a fiame. Pneumonia soon her lungs involve. And smothered comes her breath ; And fatal symptoms now arise Presaging speedy death. Then in my large reception-room I felt a queer unrest, And all my business failed to still The flutter in my breast. I tried to write a note or two, A bill or two I filed ; But still before my anxious mind I saw my dying child. 74 CYPRESS LEAVES. So in despair I took my hat. Closed up my business-room ; I knew that something had gone wrong Within my humble home. Her grandma met me at the door. The tear stood in her eye : " Your Daisy has grown sudden worse We fear that she will die." I reached her side without a word. And saw her panting sighs ; And saw the light had disappeared From her large, lustrous eyes. Although before the hour was spent I could on banquets fed. My appetite that moment went. And sank my heart like lead. For three long anxious days and nights We nursed our dying child, And heard her shrieking cries of pain. And saw her struggles wild. Poor Birdie wept for Daisy then. And wished her out of pain. And prayed her little sister might To health return ao^ain. CYPRESS LEAVES. 75 Exhausted now was all our strength. How could we hope for more ? "When thi'ee kind Christian women came Unto our cottage-door. Like sunbeams breaking through the storm To sailors tempest-tossed, When loud they hear the shrill alarm Of " Breakers ! we are lost !" So came these women just in time To save our foundering bark. When whitecaps rose along the line. And all seemed strangely dark. Oh, magic hand of woman sent To soothe the burning brow ! In sorrow or in sickness lent. An angel then art thou. Now, calling up my wasted strength When succor had come nigh, I marked the little panting breath, I watched the lifeless eye. I kept my finger on the pulse All through the anxious night. And prayed that God would heal our child Before the morning light. 76 CYPRESS LEAVES. The clock had passed the midnight hour. And all was still as death ; I sat beside my dying child, And marked her panting breath. The respiration fell to ten, The pulse was like a thread ; • I thought the fatal hour had come. And snatched her from the bed. I placed her on her mother's knee. And summoned all my power To keep the flick'ring spark of life From dying out entire. Thick darkness now my vision clouds ; What chokes my coming breath ? I faint ! I fall ! what mortal man Can stay the hand of death ? I cannot say how I revived Or how my spirit came. But sometimes wish the book of fate Had closed upon my name. But this I know, a heavy cord Seemed drawn my throat acrost ; And when the light again appeared. It seemed that all was lost. CYPRESS LEAVES. 77 I felt so weary then of breath As deep I heaved a sigh, I thought, " If this can now be death. It must be sweet to die." It seemed as if, in one short Avink, Oblivion came to save, And all my griefs and sorrows sink Deep in the silent grave. I felt like sinking down, down deep. Beneath the feather-bed, To sleep that long, eternal sleep, Among the silent dead. But fate, it seems, had not decreed That Daisy death should see ; Nor did the Reaper see the need Why death should come to me. For death is a coquettish maid. Who will not courted be ; She'll come when Ave have ceased to sue. When, courted, she Avill flee. Back came the light to Daisy's eyes. Her pulses firmer beat ; Her lips assumed a crimson flush. Her breathing more complete. 78 CYPRESS LEAVES. When I beheld those eyes of light Smile ou me once again. My star of hope, that sank that night, Kose like a diadem. But oh, how thin and j)ale her form, How haggard was her brow ! They who had seen this child in health Would scarce have known her now. She asked to see her rabbit then, She called her sister May ; She clasped her arms about her neck, And kissed her where she lay. " Do Grace and May desire to see Their little playmate now ?" She asked her mamma every day. In accents sweet and low. The loving ones were now restored For whom our spirits yearn ; But perfect health to their frail forms Shall nevermore return. As close we fold them to our hearts, The flowers the spirit gave, We felt that back they came to us From out the silent grave. CYPRESS LEAVES. 79 The boat had already landed at Spring Park when the doctor ceased speaking. Thanking the pilot for his courtesy, I had taken the children and rejoined the company. The boat made but a short stop at Spring Park, and again we were on our way toward Shady Isle. The scene that now lay before us was one of transcendent beauty. Shady Isle, with its oaks and elms and green lawns, lay to the right, while half hidden among the trees stood the beautiful and home- like Hotel Harrow. Idylv/ild and Hazeldene could be seen far ofE to our left, while the Enchanted Island loomed up grandly before us. " What an inspiration for the painter or poet !" I exclaimed. " Yes," re- plied Mrs. Clifton ; ''if it were not that I know this to be earth and not heaven, I could almost imagine we were nearing the shores of the celestial world; that we were sailing on its crystal seas, and catching the odors of the immortelles that grow on the banks of the Kiver of Life." " One can imagine they hear the exquisite music of golden harps, and catch the me- lodious swell of angel voices ; and I sometimes think," replied my wife, '*' that it would not be a difficult thing for an all-powerful God to transform this earth into a veritable heaven. With one sweep of His hand to wipe out sorrow, sin, and death, and with the other hand substitute joy, purity, and eternal life ; to sub- stitute love for hate ; to replace age Avith perpetual youth ; to banish wars for eternal peace ; to break tlie cerements of the tomb, and call our loved and 80 CYPRESS LEAVES. lost back to our arms ; in short, to restore to Adam's race the lost paradise, and then come Himself and reign over us." "A very beautiful thought, truly," replied Dr. Clifton ; " but I fear the millennium is very far distant. For one, I believe that such a happy epoch is in the very nature of things impossible ; for if there be a God, which I neither assert nor deny. He is in perfect harmony with all His works, and never has and never will suspend one of the estab- lished laws of nature. Now, if the law holds good that like produces like, human nature must remain the same to all ages ; for if it were possible for a child to be born and grow to manhood without envy, jealousy, avarice, lust, and ambition, and exempt from sorrow, sickness, and death, such a being would not be human. It would have no feelings in common with us nor we with it — in fact, it would be altogether lonely and out of place among humans, and would have to seek com- panionship elsewhere ; for the poet has truthfully said : " ' For we are the same our fathers have been, We see the same sights our fathers have seen ; We drink the same stream and view the same sun. And run the same race our fathers have run. *' 'The thoughts they were thinking we also would think, From the death they Avere shrinking we also would shrink ; To the life they were clinging we also would cling, But it speeds for us all like a bird on the wing.'" CTPBESS LEAVES. 81. "Yes, I have often admired those beautiful lines," replied my wife ; ''and from the way you tell your story, I believe you have been courting the heavenly muse yourself and have learned to tune the golden lyre. You no doubt have been sitting at the feet of Orpheus, and have learned to ride on the wings of Pegasus." "Indeed you flatter me," he responded; "I can claim nothing either by birth, genius, or education to warrant the assertion or merit the praise. But I am happy to say that I am and always have been an en- thusiastic admirer of the poets." " But why is it," continued my wife, "• tliat all physicians are naturally sceptical ? For my part, I don't see how any intelli- gent man can doubt the existence of a Supreme Be- ing. I admit no * ifs ' in my faith." " If the study of medicine," he replied, "teaches anything, it teaches that man is a material being. If he has a spiritual nature, we are not able to comprehend it. The prac- tice of medicine teaches nothing to the contrary. It is hard for us to believe that which we can't com- prehend. That the body exists is a self-evident fact Avhieli needs no proof. That a spirit exists in connection with the body we can't prove by any means yet known to science. That the earth and universe exist is self-evident. How and when they had a beginning is a question. That a God created and now controls them is something which the wisest men have as yet failed to prove. We believe many things," continued the doctor, "because we were S2 CYPRESS LEAVES taught them in childhood by our parents, and we hold such teachings as sacred ; and thus teachings and traditions have been handed down from parent to child for many hundreds of generations which, when investigated by the light of science and reason, have no foundation in fact," '* I don't like such reasoning/' replied my wife ; " you but echo the opinions of Paine and Ingersoll." "^ I warn you. Dr. Clifton," I now said, ''against getting into an argument with my wife on the subject of religion. It is a great subject, and you know the old saying, ' A woman will have the last word.' Come, Mrs. Clifton,"! said, taking that lady's arm, " we will take the children down to the dining- room and discuss ice-cream and cake, while the doctor and my wife discuss theology." " Hold on," said Dr. Clifton ; ''this is my treat ; turn about is fair play." So saying he took my wife's arm and led the way to the dining-room, while we followed. We sat down around a table, and while enjoying the delicious flavor of vanilla and lemon, the doctor thus continued his story : HOME AT LAST AND A HAPPY CHKISTMAS. Now our children had recovered From the fever's poison breath. But we thought the little cottage Was the nursery of death ; CYPEESS LEAVES. 83 For the neighbors early warned us Of the poison lurking there ; Of the damp and slimy subsoil Sending out its fatal air. Every day about the city Sought we then with anxious care For a home upon the highlands Free from pestilential air ; For a home upon the summit Of some high suburban hill, Where the virgin air of heaven Each expanding lung should fill. On the bluffs to westward sloping Stood a dwelling neat and high. Flashing back the fire at sunset To the glory in the sky. This we purchased for a homestead. Saying, as we paid the fees, " Surely now we shall be happy. Free from sickness and disease." In the closing months of autumn And the cold November chill Moved we all our earthly treasures To our homestead on the hill ; 84 CYPRESS LEAVES. To our dwelling overlooking All the city reaching forth. And the river like a serpent Creeping downward from the north. Spared we neither cash nor labor That our home might be complete. And we laid the richest carpets Underneath our children's feet. J'urnished, too, both rare and costly Was each chamber, room, and hall ; Many paintings rich and cheerful Plung upon the parlor wall. " Papa," said our daughter Birdie, " Much I love these paintings fine. But much more I long to hang here Something done by brush of mine ; Much I love the brush and palette. Much admire the canvas bright ; Oh, that I might paint the landscape Seen from this commanding height !" ** Then, my darling, name your teacher. You shall go this very day ; You shall paint yon glowing landscape, Then your mamma's face portray. CYPRESS LEAVES. 85 And the firstlings of your genius^ By your gentle fingers traced, Shall with golden frames be mounted And upon our walls be placed." Traced she first a bunch of blossoms From the apple's early bloom. Which so close resembled nature That their color seemed -perfume. One would pause to catch the odor From the gold-encircling frame. Fragrant as the sacred mem'ry Of the artist's angel name. Next she sketched a glassy river, With a bridge that arched it o'er From the rocky earth embankment To the verdant other shore. To a land with trees and flowers, And a path that upward bore ; One would think the child was painting Scenes from Canaan's happy shore. " One more lesson now, dear papa, Then my picture will be done ; . Then you'll hang it near the window. Where 'twill catch the morning sun. 86 CYPRESS LEAVES. I must touch the clouds with silver In the sky to make them gleam. And must mark the rocky archway In the bridge that spans the stream. One more lesson ! oh, my daughter, How my aching heart does break ! Those last touches to her picture Birdie never lived to make. And the picture still unfinished Hangs before our weeping eyes, But tlie lesson that is wanting Birdie took above the skies. Now the Christmas days are coming. And the little ones at home All are Christmas carols humming In a merry monotone. Now they think they hear old Santa Bringing joy to every one, Bringing presents for the children Ere the Christmas day shall dawn. Christmas came as cold as Greenland, Freezing ice and drifting snow ; But the blazing fires within doors Made our homestead all aglow. CTPRESS LEAVES. 87 Bright and early woke the children, And into their stockings peep, Which they hung beside their pillows As they laid them down to sleep. " Oh, that darling good old Santa \" Little Daisy cried with joy When she saw her golden necklace And her candies, books, and toy ; Wlien she saw her dress of cherry, AVith its buttons shining bright, Then her little heart was merry, And she danced with pure delight. Then said Birdie, " Here's a necklace. Just the thing that I can use ; Here's new books and gloves and stockings, And a pair of new kid shoes. And I've got a new portmantu, But I know from whom they came ; For the saint we call old Santa Only now exists in name." Little Mamie ran to Bessie, Saying, " See my golden chain. And my little cherry dressie. Which from grood old Santa came. 88 CYPRESS LEAVES. And my picture books and candies, And my gloves so warm and white, And my little shoes and stockies, "What I dreamed about last night," In the room beside the parlor Stood a glowing Christmas tree Bending down with lovely presents For the little children three. And the pantry close adjoining, With its load of cakes and pies, And the turkey stuffed and shining. Was too much for Daisy's eyes. Dressed in bright and glowing colors. All their happy songs they sung, While upon their throbbing bosoms Golden chains in lustre hung. " Now we'll have a dance," said Birdie, " While I on the organ play ; Papa, you shall dance with Daisy ; Mamma, you shall dance with May." This so pleased the' little children That they all began to shout. And we danced about the parlor Till we all were tired out. CYPRESS LEA VES. 89 Daisy then climbed to my bosom, Pressed her lips against my own, Said, " You are my own dear papa. And this is our happy home. *' Here we'll live with you forever. Mamma, Birdie, May, and me ; Nothing shall our fond hearts sever. Oh, how happy we shall be I" my Daisy ! my lost Daisy ! Can we, can we cease from weeping. When we think that o'er thy grave Death his silent watch is keeping ? Oh, that merry, happy Christmas ! And the love that blessed us then. And the hearts with joy o'erflowing, AVhich we ne'er shall know again. All that day a perfect love-feast Held we round the festal board ; Not one shed a tear of sorrow, Not one spoke a cruel word. Did we, did we love our children ? Love them ! oh, my God, forgive ! Had our love been less than worshi]), Now our little lambs might live ; 90 CYPRESS LEAVES. But the angels stooping downward Saw our paradise below, And were jealous that weak mortals E'er such happiness should know. When the sun his race had ended Underneath a western cloud, And the darkness growing denser Seemed to wrap us like a shroud. On the tree the waxen candles. Throwing out their mellow light. Drove away the demon darkness, Scattered wide the shroud of night. Sat we then in silence watching Each expiring ray of light. **Look !" says Daisy, " now it droopeth ! Now a spirit takes its flight." *' Look !" says Birdie, " all have perished ! 'Tis the last weak flame that dies ; Up another spirit mounteth To its mansion in the skies." Now the Cliristmas day is over, To our chamber we repair, And we kneel beside our loved ones, While they say their evening prayer. CTPBES8 LEAVES. 91 Then Ave press them to our bosoms, Fondly kiss them, lay them down. Praying God to keep them safely For the Christmas yet to come. As the doctor ceased speaking we heard cheering on the deck, and hastened out to see what caused it. The beautiful steamer City of St. Louis was just passing. The passengers on her deck had saluted the Belle of Minnetonka, and the cheering was in re- sponse to her salutation ; for it is a sacred duty always to answer a salutation on water ; and he must be an inhuman wretch, devoid of soul and sympathy, who could refuse to do so. We now found that we were just passing the Enchanted Island. Crane, Wawatassu, and Eagle Islands lay to our left, while Smithtown Bay lay far to the south. The jubilee singers struck up a stirring plantation song, which entertained us for some ten or fifteen minutes. AVe had now entered a large arm of the lake, and were heading toward Phelps Island and Hardscrabble Point. I secured four chairs, and proposed that we be seated, while the doctor continued his story. We sat down in the identical spot Ave occupied in tlie morning when Ave began the excursion ; and as Mamie and May resumed their romp over the deck, Avhich had been interrupted by the accident Avhich had made us acquainted, the 92 CTPMES8 LEAVES. doctor assumed his usual melancholy expression, and thus began : DAISY^S DEATH. The j^ath which leads down to the valley of Death, The hideous monster that stifles the breath, Lies always concealed from our vision. AYe often take voyage from life's golden strand. And think, as we journey to death's icy land. We are sailing to islands Elysian. The moment of parting cannot be foretold. The book of the future will never unfold To sorrowing mortals below. 'Tis better, perhaps, that book should be sealed. And never to man his fate be revealed, Till Death his victim lays low. The old year was dying. The last of December Dawned dark and foreboding. Oh, must I remember What fate from my bosom did wrench ! When Daisy, my idol, rose up from her pillow. Where all night she tossed like the foam on the billow. With fever no water could quench. A sad premonition sank chill on my heart. And though I abjured it, it would not depart. That Daisy was passing away. CYPRESS LEAVES. 93 I tried hard to smother the grief that would rise, But still every moment found tears in my eyes All through the long, long winter day. " Oh ! cheer up," said Bessie, "the fever will break. And when she has slumbered our darling will wake From the pestilent infantile curse." But still the small pulse like lightning did fly, The membrane was forming, the gland's swelling high, And every dread symptom grew M^orse. We laid her at night in her soft little bed. But still she kept tossing with pain in her head. And " Water, cold water," she cried. The day seemed so dreary, the night seemed so long ; "Oh, Bessie ! there's something most dreadfully wrong, We will watch all night by her side." The midnight approacheth ! the old year is dying ! And now the death angel tlirough our home is flying. The branch from the olive is riven ! I took m}^ revolver, which gleamed in the light. And out in the gloom of that frosty night I fired it twice into heaven. Then, pausing a moment, I cannot tell why. Two meteors appeared from out the bright sky, Descending obliquely to earth. 94 CYPRESS LEAVES. Then, aiming my weapon almost in despair, I emptied three chambers upon the crisp air. Then quickly returned to her berth. The new year now dawned, which used to impart The pure oil of gladness to each happy heart. But brought to us sorrows untold. We heard the dog howling — an unlucky token; Oh, horror of horrors ! diphtheria has broken Unchecked 'mid the lambs of the fold. That brave little mortal in death's fatal boat Tore out the false membrane from her little throat. And fought like a hero for life, Till now her sweet voice grew husky and hoarse. And quick came her breathing, though feeble and coarse, And still more hopeless the strife. Cold, cold blew the north wind, how terribly cold ! And the terrors that midnight can never be told ; Poor Daisy's breath almost was gone. I called my good coachman and sent him in haste Far over the city, through night's gloomy waste. To call a physician well known. He came through the darkness with horse at full speed. And stopped at our window, when twice neighed the steed. CYPRESS LEAVES. 95 Like the death angel ringing his bell. It fell on our hearts like the chill dew of morning. And caused us to start like the sentinel's warning To soldiers asleep on the hill. Her sweet voice was smothered, no sound could com- mand. But she patiently waved with her thin little hand To what she wished us to do. I held her soft fingers, but felt they were going Far out iu the darkness to where there's no knowing : The clock in the steeple struck two. Still another day dawned but brought no relief. For life is a shadow and death is a thief. And one steals the other away. Life walks in the country ; death stalks in the city : One has no discretion, the other no pity To guide it by darkness or day. h\ vain we continued her little throat swabbing. With lips turning purple and heart quickly throbbing. Death marching remorselessly on. The quick respiration, the pulse madly bounding, The glazed eyes staring, the death-rattles sounding. Continued from nightfall to dawn. Each time we desired to apply the foul lotion, Or give to the child her small, bitter potion. She pleadingly asked us to wait. 0(5 CYPRESS LEA VES. Oh, why should we wake the sweet soul from her dozing To lance that poor throat that already is closing ! In vain 'tis to struggle with fate. Those lips that had hastened so oft me to greet Disease had made foul as the filth in the street, And cheeks as lifeless as clay. And onward, still onward, as time kept revolving, Foul, foul were the odors of tissues dissolving. And tender glands breaking away. Oh, fathers, who know not diphtheria's curse. Ye mothers, who tenderly little ones nurse. Or worship one pure little mouth. When first your ear catches this pestilent cry Escape with your children, like fugitives fly Far, far to the bright, sunny South. Ye parents indulgent, who loved ones have missed. Or seen the grave cover the lips you have kissed. Oh, list what our babe had to say ; But if you had children who never were loved. Or can see breaking hearts with a heart all unmoved. Then throw this song idly away. 'Twas the last night poor Daisy e'er saw upon earth. She asked that her mamma bend close o'er her berth. To catch what her lips had to say. CYPRESS LEAVES. 97 " Come, lift me, dear mamma, and dress me again ; Put on my new dressie, my sweet golden chain. And call sister Birdie and May. " Now make our sweet parlor as light as can be, And light the wax candles on my Christmas-tree, That sight shall banish this pain. I'm sick, oh ! so sick ; but let Birdie play. And mamma hold Daisy, Avhile papa and May Shall dance o'er the carpet again." Oh, how can these scalding tears ever be less. When we think of her wish in her dying distress To see us all happy once more ! The lamps will be lighted, the wax candles burn. But that little idol will never return To our hearts from that deep, silent shore. Vain, vain is the struggle ; down, down she must sink ; The pale boatman cometh, they meet on the brink Of the river which all must cross o'er. We heard the oars splashing, we saw the boat quiver ; Our Daisy had passed o'er the dark, flowing river, And stood on the evergreen shore. Mrs. Clifton and my wife and myself were all in tears long before the doctor had concluded this pa- thetic story. It was by a superhuman effort that he 98 CYPRESS LEAVES controlled his own feelings till he finished his story ; but when the last word was uttered he leaned his head on the railing and wept like a child. It was easy to comprehend what a great loss the man had suffered in the death of this child. We sat for a long time in silence, while the other passengers on deck kept up an incessant chatter, and Mamie and May continued their romp. We were now passing Hardscrabble Point, at the entrance of Cook's Bay, and were at- tracted by a party of fishermen who had just landed some fine bass and sunfish, when the jubilee singers struck up that soul-stirring song, " Keep in de Middle ob de Road." Scarcely had the echo of this beautiful song died away when sweet strains of music from a cornet band came stealing across the waters of Cook's Bay. The effect upon the bleeding hearts of the doctor and his wife was almost magical. They raised their eyes, and their attention Avas immediately attracted to the direction whence the music came. We had already caught sight of the beautiful lawns and stately oaks that surround the Chapman House. We could see people on the bank waving handker- chiefs, and occasional flashes of light from the brass instruments on the veranda seemed to reach even to our vessel, as if in welcome. We were fully two miles away, but we waved our hats and handkerchiefs and cheered, and the echo came back to us from Chap- man's and Phelps Island. It was now near on to CYPRESS LEA VES. 99 one o'clock, and we had been on the vessel since morning. I proposed, as soon as we landed, that we all take dinner at the Chaj^man House. As the pure air of the Upper Lake had sharpened our appetites, a general consent was at once given to this proposi- tion. We stood at the railing while the vessel was approaching, and feasted our eyes on the surrounding scenery. Chapman's presented another scene of gor- geous beauty, for which Minnetonka is so famous. The scenery at this extreme northern point on the lake we thought the most beautiful we had yet wit- nessed. As soon as the boat made a landing the en- tire load of passengers distributed themselves over the green lawn and under the tall shade trees about the hotel. Many families had brought baskets with them, and picnicked under the trees. We were among the number who sought the dining-room at the hotel. We were served with a very substantial dinner, in- cluding all the fish and game for which the lake is noted. After dinner we strolled out under the trees for a while, and finally came to rest at the foot of a great oak, whose spreading branches reached out over the water. We sat a few moments in silent admira- tion of the transparent lake and beautiful scenery. "Doctor," I at length broke the silence, "I beg pardon for recalling a subject which must be very painful to you, but we would take it as a favor to have you conclude the story of that little girl that you 100 CYPRESS LEAVES. lost. I think you called her Daisy." " Ah, yes !" he said, as his eyes filled with tears ; " but the story of her life is ended. There is nothing more to tell except her burial. I now think it would have been better for me if Daisy had never been born. If I had never felt the pleasure of loving, I would never have known the pain of losing." He then clasped his hands, and gave utterance to this remarkable LAMENTATION FOR DAISY. Never to hear that musical voice ! Never to see that dear heart rejoice ! Never to feel her tender caress ! Never again her fond heart to press ! Never to see those bright eyes unclose, Soft as the blush of the new-blown rose ! Never to hang with love on those lips, Sweeter than nectar the honey-bee sips ! Oh ! sad be the morning the death angel came And cut from our circle that one darling name. The flower of our hope felt the withering blight. And sunk into darkness the star of our night. merciful Father ! why are we bereft ? That one little idol ! why was she not left ? Why are our heart-strings now broken with sorrow ? How lonely the night and sad comes the morrow ! CYPBE8S LEAVES. ^^^ Vile vile the disease that caused Daisy to die, And snatched the sweet sonl from that soft azure eye ; And be with dread horrors remembered for aye The pestilent curse that made Daisy its prey. Oh ' why, dearest child, is thy angel voice hushed, And why are our souls now in agony crushed f Thou hast flown from the bosoms thy infancy blessed. And forsaken the lips which thine have caressed. My heart's purple current should now cease to roll. And leap from my bosom this grief-stricken soul. Since nature has brought us to this fatal day. To see our loved Daisy from life torn away. AVhat we've lost with thee, Daisy, we never shall know ' Joy froze at its fountain when thou wert laid low ; Disaster chased hope on a desolate track. And the bright flood of bliss to its fountain rolled back. Our hearts break with anguish. Why could she not To ligM^our rough journey through life's lonely way ? 1 T 1.+ Must cruel death sever those eyes from the light. And earth hide forever her form from our sight . 103 CYPRESS LEAVES. Ye soft breathing zephyrs and winds sporting wild. Where now roams the spirit of this angel child ? Say, does she now hover o'er land and o'er sea. Or from yon shining temple gaze down upon me ? We were all deeply affected by the doctor's touching lamentation over the death of his favorite child, and not wishing to prolong nor rudely interrupt their grief, my wife and myself were at a loss to know how to change the theme, and therefore for a long time kept silence. At last my wife remarked rather ab- stractedly, as if talking to herself, " Death is indeed a mystery which we cannot comi^rehend any more than we can understand the mysteries of life." " Yes," replied Mrs. Clifton; ''it seems that what we call life is but animated dust, which may vanish before a passing breeze or dissolve beneath a summer shower. A babe is born, the quintessence of parental love, and grows into their affections from day to day, till it seems part of their own existence. In the morn- ing they feel its warm breath, see the spirit in its eyes, feel its little heart beat, hear the music of its voice, are thrilled by its smile, and they call it life ; but a change comes in the evening, and that which the mother folded with such raptures to her bosom is now cold and still, and they call it death ; and the parents feel that something has passed out of their lives. They . may try to remember it, but the sweet CYPRESS LEAVES. 103 and tender feelings which that little life excited in their breasts will gradually vanish and be forgotten." " I have heard it said," remarked Dr. Clifton, who had now become more calm, "that 'it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.'' That may be true in reference to lovers generally, but I don't think it will hold when ajjplied to parental love." We now heard the big bell on the boat ring, which it always does fifteen minutes before leaving, in order to give the passengers warning to come aboard. The great number of happy excursionists who had been taking lunch or lounging on the grass under the trees now arose and slowly approached the landing. In a short time the decks were crowded and the last signal given. There is always some one late, and he came run- ning down the walk just as the gang-plank was swung and the vessel left the landing. We were soon again comfortably seated on the passenger-deck. " Now, Dr. Clifton," I remarked, ''I understand that we make no stops between here and Minnetonka Beach ; so as there is no danger of interruptions, we would be much pleased to have you continue your story." '' AVell, it seems that I must be faithful to my prom- ise," he replied, ''although I would gladly stop here, as the rest of my story is a very painful one." He assumed his usual melancholy expression as he thus bearan : 104 CYPRESS LEAVES. BIEDIE^S DEATH. The night before ijoor Daisy's soul In anguish passed away, Our Birdie wept and prayed for her As on her bed she lay. But when we told her she was dead, At once she ceased to sob ; Her face assumed a calm, sweet look, Her bosom ceased to throb. " And is my little sister now An angel up in heaven ? And has she gone to dwell with those Whom Jesus has forgiven ?" She sighed so deep as thus she spoke. And even faintly smiled. We could not com]Drehend the change Which then came o'er our child. 'Tis said a strange and sudden change Across the features play Of those whom cruel Death has marked For his relentless prey. CYPRESS LEAVES. 105 Birdie ! child supremely wise. Most gifted of the three, The fatal Reaper from the skies Is calling now for thee. For thee he takes his sickle keen, For thee his arrows speed ; The shafts of death must pierce thy soul, That kindred hearts may bleed. For thee no summer will return. For thee no flowers bloom ; But flowers j)laced by loving hands Shall blossom o'er thy tomb. Oh, spirit of the hidden muse. Come breathe upon my lyre, And teach this palsied hand to sweep Its chords of living fire ! The death that laid poor Daisy low On that cold wintry morn Had now begnn its fatal work On our dear eldest born. The fatal poison paled her cheek And chilled the crimson blood. And rolled upon her gentle heart Like Pluto's angry flood. 106 . CYPRESS LEAVES. Cold water now was all her cry To cool her parched tongue. And pale as death became her face. As one by serpent stung. That night we sat beside her bed And watched her panting breath. While Daisy on her couch below Lay cold and pale in death. The Sabbath dawned, a day of rest To mortals here below ; But what a day of anxious toil ! What rushing to and fro ! The very worm that crawls the earth Should never feel such pain ; Dissolve this heart in silent dust Before it comes again. We saw within her fevered throat The ashy membrane form, And felt the bounding of the jiulse, Like lightning in a storm. Now to my coachman " Haste !" I cried, " Bring forth my faithful steed ; Like lightning to the city fly, For dreadful is the need. CYPRESS LEAVES. 107 '^ Tell Doctor Mason Daisy lies Now cold and pale in death, While Birdie on her dying bed Can scarcely draw her breath." His horse came foaming up the hill With nostrils streaming wide And eyes of fire, as though he saw Death's pale horse by his side. He listened to the failing heart. The closing throat did view. And saw the finger-nails assume A cyanotic hue. ''And must we now," the mother cried, " Of Birdie's life despair ? And must she cross the flowing tide. To join her sister there ?" He left the room with troubled face. And thus he made reply : ** This is a most malignant case ; I fear your child will die. ** Whose child is this ?" the doctor said. As little May passed by ; " The last and youngest of the three," The mother did reply. 108 CYPRESS LEAVES. " Let others for the dying care, Stop not to say good-by ; Let other hands the dead prepare, And with the living fly \" ''And must I leave my dying child ?" The frantic mother cries ; " Shall she not have a mother's care Till death shall close her eyes ? ''And must I leave that lifeless form Now wrapped in linen white, ■ And with poor Mamie in my arms Our safety seek in flight ?" " You jeopardize the baby's life By staying in these halls ; Death now through every chamber walks. And loud his trumpet calls." She threw a little woolen shawl Close o'er the baby's head, And stealing forth she left to fate The dying and the dead. Oh ! think of this, ye parents fond. Who dote on childish forms ; A mother flying from her dead. With infant in her arms ! CYPRESS LEAVES. 109 Not even allowed to see the dead. Approach the waiting bier. Nor on the little golden head To drop a farewell tear. Nor yet allowed to hold the hand Of her that dying lies ; To soothe her last departing breath, Then gently close her eyes. No wonder that for two long years No strength she seemed to gain, And melancholy seemed to sit Upon her tender brain. *'Now haste thee ! haste \" the doctor said, " These remedies prepare ; We'll beard the lion in his den. The tiger in his lair." Oh ! dreadful must the danger be AVhen bleeding hearts are brave ; 1 sprang within my cutter there, And this commandment gave : '*■ Now, Charley, if you ever drove To save a parting breath. Screw ever tendon to the snap. And run a race with death." 110 CYPRESS LEAVES. We darted down the sloping liill Like arrows from the bow>. Or like the hounds of William Tell Behind the mountain roe. The doctor's horse came close behind With bright and flaming eye, And passed us like an eagle's wing Across the stormy sky. As homeward then we bounding came The remedies to place, I saw before me in the way An old familiar face. I grasped my soldier brother's hand, Who sixteen years or more Had never pressed my open palm Nor entered at my door. He left my father's humble roof When youth myself retained. And buried in the great broad West Had ever since remained. 'Twas lucky that this brave man came. That one of kindred blood Should tide us o'er the pointed rocks Of life's dark surging flood ; CYPEES8 LEAVES. HI Who powder-stained yet grimly stood Upon the battle-field. While charging spears or reeking swords Could make the foeman yield ; Who led his men through fields of blood. O'er mountains of the dead, While death in leaden tempests flew All round about his head. I gained my home and quickly passed Unto my darling's bed ; But clouds of trouble thick and fast Were breaking o'er my head. I asked her if she feared to die, She sweetly answered, " No," But said that she would like to live. If God would have it so. I called my brother to my aid, And such a fight with death Was never made by mortal men Since God has given breath. For five successive days and nights We watched the dying child. And marked the wasting of disease, And saw her struggles wild. 112 CYPRESS LEAVES. A doctor's counsel uow Avas called. Who sage advice might give. To check thie onward march of death. And bid the child to live. But vain was all the help we called To stop the march of death ; The monster had her in his grasp, And smothered came her breath. Now grandma sat by Birdie's side. And never once removed ; For Birdie was her grandma's pet. The child she always loved. Poor little Daisy's angel form We could no longer keep. But must consign her sacred dust To its eternal sleej^. My brother James and I were all, AVith mam and baby May Who followed slow the little hearse On that cold wintry day. No word was read, no requiem sung. No useless prayers were said ; But silently we laid her down Within her narrow bed. CYPRESS LEAVES. 113 The towering pine-trees seemed to moan. The spruce began to sigh ; The sun went down behind a cloud Within the western sky. The yellow leaves dropped o'er her grave. The oak a branch did lend ; The little snow birds seemed to know That they had lost a friend. We could not wait to mark the grave With stick or roughened stone ; We turned our weeping eyes away. And left her there alone. For we had left another child In grandma's care at home. Nor knew how soon we'd follow her Unto the silent tomb. On our return I felt her pulse Still quick and bounding high. And saw the sure approach of death Within her languid eye. Our lovely dwelling, which of late Was filled with joy and mirth, A joy that lives in other worlds. And seldom visits earth. 114 CYPRESS LEAVES. Was now a hell of bitter tears. Where hearts in anguish moan, And every sound that met the ears Came laden with a groan. It seemed a pestilential curse Had fallen on us there, And seeds of death with every breath Came floating in the air. To eat or sleep is not the boon Of those with grief oppressed ; Prostrate with grief, I scarce could move. Yet found no place to rest. But think then of poor Bessie's fate. With Mamie on her knee. Who could not see her dying child. And dared not speak to me. Like prisoners from day to night Confined within a room. Expecting every passing hour The dreadful news to come. We called to grandpa in the street. And told the story o'er. Who to the mother and the child The mournful story bore. CYPRESS LEAVES. 115 I saw that Birdie soon must go. With heart so good and pure , But how could we without her love This lonely life endure ? • But Birdie had a living faith In Jesus and His love, Nor feared to die that she might tread The golden streets above. She prayed that Jesus would forgive The sins that she had done, Although her pure and spotless heart Had ne'er committed one. "1 know that Jesus unto Him All little children call ; But I am not a little child — Can I be saved at all ? ** How shall I up to heaven get When this poor life is gone ? Will Jesus send His angels down To bear His children home ? ''Now, grandma, will you kneel and pray. Ask Jesus to forgive. And when my life has passed away Take me with Him to live ?" 116 CYPRESS LEAVES. Her grandma prayed, and then she said, " Sing something soft and low ; I feel so very weak and faint • I know I soon must go. *' Sing ' Jesus, lover of my soul,^ And let my spirit fly To join my little sister Dell Above the bright blue sky.'^ Then grandma sang the dying child The hymn she loved so dear. And Birdie joined her feeble voice In accents sweet and clear. *' Now, Uncle James, will you please pray Before this poor life ends ? I knew your little daughter May ; We were the best of friends." The gray-haired soldier bowed his head. And close beside her chair The man of thirty battles knelt And offered up his prayer. She asked me now to pray for her ; I knelt beside her chair And offered up as best I could My broken-hearted prayer. CYP11ES8 LEA VE8. 1 1 T She leaned her head so gently then . Upon my bending brow, And grasped my hand so firm and tight I think I feel it now. " Now, Birdie, would you like to see Your ma and sister May ?" '' No, it is better," she replied, " That they should stay away ; " For sister May, you know, might take This dread disease and die ; Please tell them that for Birdie's sake They must not fret and cry. " I'll meet them in a better world All free from grief and pain ; Disease and death shall never drive Them from my side again. " Now, papa, you will always love My ma and sister May, And you will go to church with them On every Sabbath day. " Will those I love, with whom I spent My childhood's happy hours. Keep green my grave and plant it with The sweetest blooming- flowers ?" 118 CYPRESS LEAVES. She called her pastor to her bed •That she his prayer might hear, And talk about the better land To her that seemed so near. She now seemed ready to depart, And quietly lay down ; Those large brown eyes she turned on us Were never known to frown. The sleep that tired nature needs AVas now to her refused ; If once she closed her eyes to sleep, Iler throat that moment closed. Then starting \ip witli streaming eyes 1^0 catch a bi-eatli of air, She reached both hands as if for help, lint help was never there. And how slie bore so patiently 1 cannot now conceive ; With no resistance, no complaint Nor wish that she might live. Just once she pressed her little heart And gentle moans did nuike. As if the silken cords within Were then about to break. CYPRESS LEAVES. HQ 'Twas just tin hour or two before Her spirit passed away, I bent across her dying bed That she might hear me say : '* You're leaving us, our darling child. We ne'er shall see you more ; But Daisy's spirit you shall meet On Canaan's hap])y shore, " I'll go to church, as you have said. And care for ma and May, And never see them want for bread While in this world I stay." Her smothered breath was so near gone She could not speak a word. But nodded gently as I spoke ; I know my voice was heard. I could not see our Birdie die Nor hear her jjarting moan ; I left her side with bursting heart, AVhile groan succeeded groan. She must have heard my bitter cry In that sad dying hour, And seen above her bed of death The heavenly gates ajar. ^'20 CYPRESS LEAVES. She must have got a glimpse of heaven And saints in beauty clad ; She looked above and whispered faint, '"Tis beautiful but sad." To see that happy land of rest Was beautiful indeed ; But sad to leave the ones she loved With mourning hearts to bleed. To earthly things she now was dead An hour before she went ; Her face became as black as lead. Her life was almost spent. She smothered as a fatal cord About her neck was tied. Her heart-strings broke, she sighed, she gasped. And in a moment died. So died the genius and the skill Which God with Birdie gave, And all her parents' fondest hopes Lie buried in her grave. But far above this vale of tears A purer light shall shine, And we shall clasp her radiant soul In a celestial clime. CYPRESS LEAVES. 131 We dressed our darling for her grave In satin robes of white ; For we must take the corpse away Before the shades of night. About her neck we gently place Her golden Christmas chain, And on her hand the ring she wore When fever racked her brain. And then her pure and sacred form We in her casket lay, And follow slowly to her tomb On that cold wintry day. On grandma, brother James and I The solemn task befell To follow to her cold damp grave The child we loved so well. No requiems chanted o'er her grave. No psalms or hymns were sung ; But silently, as falling leaves. The casket down was swung. But heaven wept in crystal tears That fell all through the night. And when another day had dawned Iler grave Avas out of sight. 122 CYPRESS LEAVES. We were all overcome with grief as the doctor con- cluded the words of this touching narrative. I thought my wife much better qualified to speak words of sympathy than myself ; so without asking to be excused I arose, and taking the children, one in each hand, descended to the lower deck. We sought the engineer's room, and were kindly received. The children were wonderfully pleased to see the great en- gines at work, and to see the great shafts that turned the big wheels. They noticed that every time a little bell rang the man turned a small wheel which caused the engines to run fast or slow, or to stop alto- gether, and by raising a lever he could reverse the engines and make them run backward. The engi- neer explained that the pilot on top of the boat rang the bell, and then showed them the large boilers where the steam was generated that turned the engines and caused the boat to go. He explained that the boat was now in the narrows, which was the cause of the bell ringing so often, and why he had to make so many reverses and stops and starts. All this Avas a world of information for the children, which I am sure they will never forget. Thanking the man for his courtesy, and giving him a cigar, I took the chil- dren, ascended the steps, and rejoined the company just as we were nearing Minnetonka Beach. I found my wife busily engaged in conversation with Dr. and Mrs. Clifton, and that they were discussing the CYPRESS LEAVES. .133 advisability of spending the balance of the day at the beach and Hotel Lafayette, and returning home by the evening tram. Mrs. Clifton asked me what I thought of the proposition. I replied, as it was now near three o'clock p.m., that I thought we might spend a couple of hours very pleasantly at Minne- tonka Beach. " Very well, then," said Dr. Clifton ; " the vote is unanimous for the beach, and here is the landing." Just as he uttered these words the keel of the vessel grated on the sand, and the gang-plank was lowered. It seemed now that a great many others were of the same opinion as ourselves ; so that when all had disembarked who desired to do so, there were very few left to return to Wayzata. We walked leis- urely up the beach, crossed the railroad-tracks, spent a half hour or more in promenading through the park and admiring the fountains, flowers, and ever- greens, and finally came to a halt on the veranda of the great hotel. The large willowy chairs were so inviting, the music from the band so thrilling, and the lake scenery so charming, we instinctively became seated without taking a vote on the subject. The band was playing " The Beautiful Blue Danube,"' and when the delicious and love-inspiring strains of that waltz had died away, I urged the doctor to con- tinue his story. He took little Mamie on his knee, smoothed her rich chestnut curls, kissed her^ and thus began : 1^4 CYPRESS LEAVES. MAMIE^S LAMENTATION. A baby's grief may seem a trifling thing, But Mamie's sorrow, heavenly goddess, sing, ^hough but four summers o'er her head had flown. She wept her playmates' death, her sisters gone. Her tender years had seen the hand of Death, And just escaped his all-destroying breath. When Daisy's soul in anguish passed away. And cold in death her little body lay. Our baby May was heard the whole day long To pour her soul in this sad, plaintive song : " God's children are gathering home. Never to sorrow more, never to roam. Gathering home, gathering home, God's children are gathering home." Unspoken grief her little heart possessed. And thus she sobbed upon her mother's breast : CHILD. No, dear mamma, oh, no, no ! Tell me not ! oh, say not so ! I will call her back again ; We can never let lier go. CYPRESS LEAVES. 125 MOTHER. That, my child, you cannot do. For beyond the ether bkie Daisy stands with open arms Waiting now to welcome you. CHILD. Tell me not my playmate's gone. Never, never to return. Or my little heart shall break ; How these scalding tear-drops burn ! Will she come at break of day ? MOTHEK. No, my darling angel May. CHILD. Will she come on Sunday morn ? MOTHER. No ; from earth she's passed away. CHILD. When the snow has gone away. And there comes a sunny day. Then will sister Daisy come ? Mamma, won't she ? Mamma, say ? 126 CYPRESS LEAVES. MOTHEK. No, my child, she's passed away. CHILD. "When the flowers come in the spring, And the birds are on the wing, Shall I see my sister then ? See her smile and hear her sing ? MOTHER. No, my child ; with Christ, the King, Daisy's flowers are blossoming. CHILD. In the merry month of May, When the flowers are bright and gay. And the birds sing in the trees. Will she come with me to play ? MOTHER. No, my little baby May ; Much it grieves to say you nay. But she sees the living trees Which by Eden's bowers stay. CYPRESS LEAVES. 12'? CHILD. Why this little box so light, And the gown so pure and white ? Must we leave her here alone Through the long and silent night ? MOTHER. This is now her narrow home, And the dead require no light. CHILD. Icy now is her small cheek. And her hands are folded meek ; If she could her lips unclasp, I am sure that she could speak. MOTHER, Baby's mind is far too weak Death's great mysteries to grasp. CHILD. Why, this cold and wintry day. Do they take her far away In that little snow-white hearse, With the horses white and gay ? 128 CYPRESS LEAVES. MOTHER. Soon we all must go this way ; Little May must watch and pray. Dust to dust was Adam's curse ; Jesus is the living way. CHILD. Why that deep hole in the ground ? Why these rough men standing round ? See ! they lower her body down ; Oh, the rough spades cruel sound ! MOTHER. Here they'll raise a little mound, And the leaves shall fall around ; But the dead shall rise again. And the loved and lost be found. CHILD. Oh, my angel sister, come ! Burst again the silent tomb ! Throw away that snow-white shroud. Leave the cemetery's gloom ! Now my sister Birdie's gone. And the night is coming on. Oh, the lonely, lonely night ! How I wish the day would dawn ! CYPRESS LEAVES. 129 MOTHER. Lift her toys from off the floor, I'ut them in her little drawer. With her picture-books and doll ; She will never need them more. CHILD. In her drawer I've put them all. Save the shoes that Daisy wore. MOTHER. Put her little shoes away. And her dress so bright and gay. With the pretty things she wore On that happy Christmas day. CHILD. Yes, her little shoes we'll save. And the dress old Santa gave ; But the golden chain she wore. They have buried in her grave. Daisy's death I did deplore. Weeping till my eyes were sore ; But when sister Birdie went. Then my eyes could weep no more. 130 CYPRESS LEAVES. Why it was I cannot tell, Birdie I loved just as well , But a numbness strange and still On my broken spirit fell. Now it seems she did not die. But was lifted up on high, And with little sister Dell Sings above the bright blue sky. MOTHER. In that land where falls no night We shall clasp our soul's delight. Free from parting, pain, and death. Shining with the angels bright. Before the summer breeze the tall grass waves. And often as we sit beside their graves We speak of all the tender words they said, And trim the flowers upon their lowly bed. And clover tops about the graves are seen. Like pearls shining in a sea of green. While Mamie gathers from the grass around A small bouquet to grace each little mound ; And water in her gentle hands will bear To sprinkle all the sweet flowers blooming there Then heaving from her lonely heart a sigh. In parting wave her hand and say good-by. CYPRESS LEA VES 131 It was a strange coincidence that Just as the doctor concluded these words the band struck up the " Hun- garian Rhapsody/' whose lively strains carried our minds as by magic from the gloomy thoughts to which the story had given rise. The delicious harmony held us spellbound for the time, but when the last notes had died away Mrs. Clifton expressed a desire to take a walk through the hotel. I immediately offered her my arm, and the doctor and my wife followed, while the children led the van. We strolled through the spacious rotunda into the great ball-room, and from thence into the reception-room and parlors. The ladies were greatly pleased with the furniture, and especially with the great variety and beauty of the willow-ware. Eeturning to the rotunda, we took a peep into the great dining-room, and then wandered out upon the veranda at the north side of the hotel. Here we witnessed a game of lawn-tennis played by some young people whom we took to be guests of the hotel. We also had a fine view of Crystal Bay. The children wanted to take a walk down to the water to gather some shells just as the doctor gave me a cigar and lit one himself ; so the ladies said they would accompany the children while we enjoyed our smoke. As we became seated the doctor took a letter from his side-pocket. '' Ah yes !" he exclaimed, " here is a copy of Birdie's letter, which she wrote to her cousin May in Beloit, Kansas, just a week before 132 CYPRESS LEAVES. she died. My niece was kind enough to furnish me with this copy during our short visit to that town some months ago. I also have here some otlier samples of her compositions of earlier date, which I have carefully preserved." " If there is nothing of a private nature in the letter or compositions, doctor," I remarked, " it would give me much pleasure to hear them read." "Nothing whatever," he exclaimed, and he read as follows : BIRDIE'S LAST LETTER. Minneapolis, Minn., December 23, 1884. Deae Cousin May : I received a letter from you a long time before I was sick, and have not answered it yet. We are all well [here is a blot], and hope this may find you the same. Papa received a letter from Uncle James to-day saying he Avas coming the first of the year, and so wouldn't it be nice to have you come along with him ? You ask him, and see if you can't come. We would have lots of fun. Try and come, won't you ? AV^rite and tell me what you get for Christmas. I am all better again, but I ''have no wool on the top of my head, just the place where the wool ought to grow. "' I am taking lessons in oil painting now. I painted a cluster of apple blossoms. I just got them home from the store to-day. They were being framed. I am pamt- CYPRESS LEAVES. 133 ing quite a large landscape now. It is not finished yet, I have got the nicest old cat. She sleeps on the lounge. Papa gave me the j^resent of a bed- room set of furniture. It is j^ainted a light blue, and decorated with flowers. There is a bedstead, wash- stand, dressing-case, three chairs and a rocker, towel- rack, and little table. Then I have a chamber set for the washstand — I don't know the right name, but I guess chamber-set is what they call it. Mine is blue and decorated, and mamma has a set in pink and deco- rated. I have got the nicest doll. I got it when I was sick. It has hair that you can comb. Its head moves all around, and it is jointed all over. I can wash it with soap and water and it won't hurt it. But now won't you try and come along with your papa ? May, we would have just lots of fun. Well, I don't know what else to write. Do try and come. May. Write soon — good-by. Your cousin Birdie. " These samples of her composition," said the doctor, "■ were written at school about a year before she died, and at about the age of twelve years. There are four of them, each very short, and I give them just as I found them m her book after her death. These are invaluable to us as showing the beauty of her thoughts and original genius at that age." 134 CYPRESS LEA VES. THE WHITE KITTEN. Etta's papa and mamma were coming home this very evening, and Etta was making things look home- like and cheerful. She thought she would go down to the meadow and see if she could find any ripe strawberries, but not a one could she find. Eeturn- ing, she saw her old cat and followed her to the barn- loft, where she thought she must have kittens. She looked down into the bin, and there, sure enough, were four kittens, and one pure white. Tlien she jumped into the bin, but the fioor, not being solid, broke, and she fell through into the second bin, and the boards fell on her and bruised her so severely that she could not move. When her father and mother came home they wondered where Etta was. She could not be found the whole night, but in the morning she was found in the bottom of the bin. Her father carried her to the house, and they were glad on finding the child. This family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, Etta, George, and Hannah the servant. TPIE TANGLED SKEIN. Little Ella was winding a small skein of thread one day, and because the thread got tangled a little she Avas angry and said, " I never can get this out, if I should work at it forever. I do wish mother would CYPRESS LEAVES. 135 wind this herself, or get me another that is on the shelf." But her brother, who heard these words, said, *'Let me help you, and don^t be angry-; I had just such trouble with my ball the other day." Then they both got at it, and the tangle was soon out. SKETCH OF WASHIJ^'GTON IRVING. This great author that I am going to tell you about was born in New York City, April 3d, 1783. He was the youngest son of William Irving. At the age of sixteen years he left school, and in 1802, at the age of nineteen years, he wrote a paper for his brother, who published it. As he did not wish any one to know who wrote it, he signed his name Jonathan Oldstyle. This man spent about twenty-five years of his life abroad. In 1804 he made his first trip to Europe, and stayed two years. He returned to New York in 1806, and went into business with his two brothers. In 1810 he wrote the " History of New York. " When he made his second trip to Europe he stayed seventeen years. The year 1820 he spent in Paris, then returned to New Yoi'k again. He made three trips to Europe altogether. During his second trip, while he was in England, he heard that his two brothers had failed and lost their money, and all that he had invested also. He had nothing to depend on then but his Avritings. The first book he wrote was '' Salmagundi," 136 CYPRESS LEAVES. and the last one lie wrote was the " Life of Washing- ton/^ which he wrote in the year of his death. Many of his books were written at his Sunnyside residence, two miles from Tarrytown. This great man spent his last days at his Sunnyside residence, where he died November 28th^ 1854, with disease of the heart. He Avas seventy-six years old when he died. Thus ends the life of this well-known author, Washington Irving. (Signed) Birdie. EIP VAN WINKLE. At the foot of the Catskill Mountains, in the State of New York, in a little village lived an old man by the name of Eip Van Winkle. He Avandered up the mountain Avith his dog and gun. As it Avas beginning to get dark he saAV an old man coming up the moun- tain Avith a barrel on his back. Rip went doAvn to help him, and they Avent up the mountain together, where they found a lot of little men playing ninepins. Here Rip fell asleep, and Avhen he aAvoke he found that his gun and dog Avere both gone. As he began to Avander toward the village again everything Avas changed. Even his beard had groAvn a foot long_. Everybody looked at him in amazement. When he Avent up to the inn and asked for his old friends, the people said they were all dead, and some had been CYPRESS LEAVES. 137 killed in the war. Rip now began to think the world and he were both bewitched. When he asked where dame Van Winkle was, they all said that she died in a fit of passion at a peddler. Then all at once an old woman came forward and said that she remembered old Eip. Then a young woman stepped np and said her name was Judith Gardner, and that she was Eip Van Winkle's daughter. So Eip Avent to his daughter's home, and stayed there as long as he lived. " Here," said the doctor, producing another sheet of paper, ^'r.re some verses which I found in her own handwriting after her death. She evidently copied them from some book, but I remain as yet ignorant of the real author. This is sufficient to show her taste for that kind of composition. Some of the words were prophetic, and others seem to us now like an admoni- tion from the grave." Be kind to each other. Speak gently ; oh, never Let coldness divide you, harsh words, or a frown. Tlie day cometh near when the household must sever ; On home's pleasant sunshine the night will fall down. Plant love's holy blossoms in memory's furrows. Your smiles cannot follow o'er mountain and wave ; But the thought of kind deeds will be balm for your sorrows What time you are parted by care or the grave. 138 CYPEESS LEAVES. Eeplacing the papers. Dr. Clifton took from his pocket a beautiful little book with decorated cover and gilt edges. " This," said the doctor, " is Birdie's tiutograph album. It contains some precious little gems of thought, and shows in what esteem she was held among her friends. But I see the ladies and chil- dren are returning, so I had better not tire you by read- ing them."' I begged him to read the contributions, and thought he would have plenty of time to do so before they arrived, Judging from the rate at which they were walking. " Very well," he replied, and began with this one : To BiEDiE : Life is a volume From, youth to old age ; Each year forms a chapter, Each day is a page. May none be more charming, More womanly true Than that pure and noble Sketched yearly by you. September 8, 1882. L. C. L. To BiKDiE : Pure, spotless, white and undefiled This album's free from stain ; So may the tablets of thy heart Chaste ever thus remain. September 22, 1882. T, Jamisok". CYPRESS LEAVES. 139 To Birdie : ^ May you live to grow as good a woman as you are a sweet and lovely child. Mrs. Billingto]S'. To Birdie : Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old time is still a-flyiug, And this same flower that smiles to-day To-morrow may be dying. Mrs. E. G. Hemphill. To Birdie : Shun delays, they breed remorse ; Take thy time while time is lent thee ; Creeping snails have weakest force — Fly their fault, lest thou repent thee. Good is best when soonest wrought ; Lingered labors come to naught. March 31, 1883. G. E. Hemphill. As the doctor concluded these gems little Mamie bounded into his arms, and Mrs. Clifton and my family joined us on the veranda. They had not been very successful in gathering shells, but the children had secured quite a lot of very pretty pebbles. I looked at my watch, and remarked that it was Just thirty minutes to train time, and proposed wo go into the 140 CYPRESS LEAVES. dining-room for a clisli of ice cream before going to the station. The ladies said that that was an invita- tion which they had never yet declined ; and as the children were already on their way, the doctor and I followed. Some twenty minutes were employed in eating the cream and cake, and in conversation, when we arose and proceeded quite briskly down through the park to the station. We had only a few minutes to wait at the depot till we saw the train coming. AVhen we boarded the train and had found seats for the ladies and children, the doctor and I sat down in the seat directly behind them. " Well, Dr. Clifton," I said, after we Avere seated, " we have certainly had a very pleasant day together, and I am sure that all through my future life this day will be a green spot in my memory. I am sure that my wife and I have both enjoyed your story, plaintive and mournful though it has been. But have you entirely finished ? Is there not something else you would like to add in reference to this family tragedy ? Is there not yet some tender sentiment unexpressed ?" " Alas I" said the doctor, " I might give expression to my grief in a million different forms, and yet find that I have but repeated sentiments that have been uttered centuries ago. The poets have sung their sorrows in all ages, and there are no new forms of expression left. Grief is as old as the race. And perhaps, after all, it were better had this sad story never been told ; but I will add this (CYPRESS LEAVES. 141 as part of my own experience, and thereafter shall be silent as the grave in which onr children sleep until my dust shall minarle with theirs/' WANTED— A PANACEA FOR GRIEF. When tender hearts unused to grief are break'n. And eyes are wet, And cruel death with ruthless hand has taken The household pet. Oh, in that dreadful hour of pain and anguish Where can we turn To find a solace for the hearts that languish And tears that burn ? Can prayer to God and endless supplication One comfort give, Or faith in Christ restore the lost relation. And bid it live ? I've sought for comfort in the sacred Scripture, And prayed between, But not a voice have heard nor even a whisper From the unseen. Across that silent stream there come no voices, No wordings o'er, Assuring us the lost one now rejoices On Canaan's shore. 142 CYPRESS LEAVES. I've mingled in the giddy world of pleasure To ease my pains. But all in vain — the grief for my lost treasure With me remains. I've cursed the fate that took my darlings from me, I've torn my hair, And wept and groaned till grief has overcome me In wild des]3air ; But still no comfort have I found in cursing Or bitter moan — I may as well he silent still and nursing My grief alone. I've sought within the gilded bar-room's glitter And flowing bowl For one sweet draught to charm away the bitter That fills my soul ; But not a drop of human hands' distilling Can peace impart Or to oblivion sink the grief that's killing This aching heart, I've listened to the summer night winds sighing So soft and low. As if their spirits hovered near me trying To let me know ; And often in my sleep, while silent dreaming, I've seen their forms Sweep o'er my couch with garments brightly streaming And outstretched arms : CYPRESS LEAVES. 143 Then felt a little hand so warm and tender Compress my own, And seen two loving arms both white and slender About me thrown. I've felt the sweep of long and silken lashes Across my face, Till my full soul seemed burning into ashes In that embrace. At midnight when the sky was oversprinkled With eyes of light, I've numbered every little star that twinkled So calmly bright. And thought of all the cycles o'er them breaking In endless flow. And tried to catch the music they were making As on they go. I've wondered if those brilliants far off shining In depths so blue Could be the souls for whom my heart is pining There i^eeping through. Oh, can we e'er forget the arms so tender Our necks entwine, Or unto dark oblivion surrender Their love divine ? That giief can find no panacea seems a pity On sea or shore, Till death has laid us in the silent city To weep no more. 144 (J Y PRESS LEAVES. We had already reached the station at Minneapolis when the doctor concluded his extraordinary statement. As he arose I grasped him warmly by the hand, saying, " Dr. Clifton, hereafter I shall claim you as my dearest friend, and shall ask the privilege of being a friend to you ; and I shall feel offended if you don't bring your wife and little girl over to St. Paul to-morrow and pay us a visit." The children kissed each other. The ladies embraced each other, then kissed the children. The doctor kissed May, and I kissed Mamie. My wife grasped Dr. Clifton's hand, and passing my hand between them, I caught Mrs, Clifton's hand. ''I have a great notion not to let any of you get off the train," said my wife ; " but I have got your wife's promise to bring Mamie over to my house to-morrow, and of course you will come along." The doctor consented. ^•' We will try and make you forget the sad history of your past life, doctor," remarked my wife. The doctor looked seriously into her eyes for a moment, and then gave expression to the following exquisite sentiment, which if he had died then, and never sjioken another word, would give him a title to immortality. CONCLUSION. The spring has come, and birds and flowers On every hand are seen, While o'er our darlings little graves The grass waves rich and green ; CYPRESS LEAVES. 145 And many flowers of sweet perfume Adorn that sacred spot, But those who sleep beneath the flowers Can never be forgot, ' Good-by," said the doctor ; " I will see you later/^ " Not later than to-morrow," replied my wife. " Good- by/' said Mrs. Clifton, as she left the car. " Good- by," shouted Mamie out on the platform. The train was already moving. We all said good-by and waved our handkerchiefs, and the children threw kisses as we passed out of sight. Since the day we spent at Minnetonka together Dr. Clifton and his family have been so much with us and we have been so often with them that we sometimes wonder if the whole story is not a dream, and if we are not one family instead of two. JUYEiq'ILE POEMS. The following collection of verses were written from 1867 to 1869, or immediately after leaving home, and before I had begun the study of medi- cine. Though passionately fond of poetry, I had been guiltless of any attempt at original verse until I was nineteen years of age. After I had attained my twenty-first year my muse was silent for fifteen years, until a great tragedy in my family, similar to that embodied in the foregoing pages, produced such a profound impression on my mind that I soon found myself haunted by the melancholy muse. I have endeavored to give the following verses as originally written, without revision, and with but few changes. They are appended to this volume after much hesitation, and I hope that the age at which they were produced will be sufficient excuse for the infinite metrical and grammatical imperfections which 'they contain. Most sincerely. The Author. 148 CYPRESS LEAVES. WKITE ME A LETTEE FROM HOME. < (To my Mother.) KiTTANNING, PA., 1867. "What strange anxiety and fear Doth vex the absent one. When in suspense he waits to hear From those he loves at home ! He often waits Avith longing eyes A letter from his home, And daily to the office flies. Inquiring, "Is there none ?" Oh, how his bosom swells with joy When he a letter finds ! He quickly doth the seal destroy. And read the welcome lines. Like oasis in desert's waste. With its refreshing springs, Eefreshment to the Aveary breast A letter often brings. Oh, why delay a single day An answer to my last. And throw it carelessly away. Like something of the past ? CYPRESS LEAVES. 149 Would you that I should e'er forget My home and kindred dear ? Oh, then, do you '"^ forget me not/^ But let me often hear. A little note, however small. To tell that you are well. Will soon recall my comforts all. And all my troubles quell. MAID AND MODESTY. KiTTANNING, Pa. , 1867. MAID. Hail ! Modesty, With brow so fair ; Whence comest thou. With flowing hair ? MODESTY. From Helen's bower Of chastity. Where blooms the flower Of purity. MAID. Dost find it hard To leave thy home. 150 CYPRESS LEAVES. Without a guard This world to roam ? MODESTY. I leave my bower At her request. To plant a flower In thy young breast. MAID. And hopest thou To dwell within This wicked breast And heart of sin ? MODESTY. My flower can cleanse Thy heart of sin. If thou wilt gi-ant A place therein. MAID. Come, all my heart I give to thee. If thou wilt be My Modesty. C7PBES8 LEAVES. 151 MODESTY. I will consent Thy heart to bless ; Thy face shall shine With loveliness. TO J. 0. S., ON HEARING OF HIS MAREIAGE. Allegheny, Pa., 1867. Within thy bosom may she rest. And make thy life forever blest ; And may she all her heart reveal. And be to thee as true as steel. THOUGHTS OF HOME. KiTTANNING, Pa., 1867. 'Tis Saturday night ; the cares of the day With setting sun have passed away. My noisy comrades one by one Retire from the sitting-room. The lamp before me dimly burns. And undisturbed my memory turns To reflect on — what ? Why, what seems best : 1 think of that place forever blest, 152 CYPEESS LEAVES. Where oft the memory loves to roam ; And musing on my distant home, I see my father, my aged sire, Sitting alone by the evening fire. How very solemn and sad he looks ! Seeming to cull from a few old books Some words of comfort. I also see The dearest of all on earth to me — My mother. Oh, how I long to rest My weary head on my mother's breast. And catch once more, as in days gone by, , The gentle glance of my mother's eye ! And how I'd love once more to hear The voice of brother or sister dear ! But, alas ! they nearly all are gone. And only the youngest remain at home ; And now I wonder this Satiirday night If the broken circle shall ever unite. N. B. — 'Tis said that Saturday night is known As the night that brings all stragglers home. SOME EAELY EXPEEIENCE. KiTTANNING, Pa., 18G7. All honor to the man of truth Whose word you never can mistrust ; CTPRESS LEAVES. 153 What lie has pledged he will rededm, Because his conscience says he must. Oh, lend me language to express My strong disdain and burning ire For him whom I must now confess Has been a base and cruel liar. One of a thousand you may find AVhose word will honor as his bond ; But you should ever bear in mind That honest men are rarely found. Oh, give me, then, the man of truth, AVho would not dare a falsehood tell ; He's worth a thousand promisers. Who promise what they ne'er fulfil, TEMPERANCE IMPROMPTU. Some virtues from the angels spring, Or take their origin with God. Intemperance is the devil's sting. Hell-born among the demon crowd. TO ADELIA. Allegheny, Pa., 1867. 'Tis sweet to think of those we love While in this desert world we rove ; They make us think of heaven above, Adelia. 154 CYPRESS LEAVES. Oft in my deep imaginings A form before my memory springs. As though it came on angel wings, Adelia. She comes with smiles so bright and sweet, A voice with accents so complete As makes each pulse with rapture beat, Adelia. Her soft white hands are filled with flowers, AVhich, gathered from her floral bowers. Will brighten up my darkest hours, Adelia. She bears a meek and humble mind, With manners pure and thoughts refined. And heart replete with wishes kind, Adelia. What maiden, then, do I thus view, With smile so sweet and heart so true ? ^Tis surely no one else but you, Adelia. DUST TO DUST. Cadiz, O., 1868. The funeral bell is tolling. Its deej) And solemn voice comes rolling mornfuUy On the evening air. Its voice is one CTPBES8 LEAVES. 155 Of awe. It speaks in tones sublime, and tells Of one whom lingering illness had brought Low, and Avho now lies in yonder cottage Cold in death. On the hour the villagers Assemble, and each his parting tribute Pays to the departed. For this is all That man for brother man can do, when In life's broad battle-field he falls. A look. And then, perchance, a sigh ; he passeth on, While others do the same. Now forms the long Procession. Hark ! on the rough pavement I hear the sound of many feet in slow And solemn tread. A funeral train is Moving on. The grave, which, like devouring Fire, is never satisfied, is yawning On the hill. The spot is reached, and now The living lower the dead to his last Resting-place, while many stand around With heads uncovered. They linger a moment To hear the rough clods fall harshly on the Coffin-lid, while tender hearts of friends are Crushed, and tears flow like summer showers. They turn away and leave the scene. And from Their minds, as leaves in autumn fall, so dies His memory away. So die we all. Ko warning take we, as anon we see Our brothers fall, but live as though there Was no death, and all of life was here. 156 (fYPRESS LEAVES. SUMMEE'S ADVENT. Cadiz, O., 1868. The joyful ring of merry sjjriug Forsakes the list'ning ear. And scorching rays of sunny days Proclaims the summer here. Ten thousand sheep, as if to sleep. Lie down in pastures green. While heavy kine, in sweet recline. On thousand hills are seen. The robin's song was still so long Within the pleasant vale, I now rejoice because its voice Comes in the forest's wail. In wild wood's breast 'tis loath to rest Its carol wild and free, Till in the west the sun's bright crest Gold gilds the forest tree. So great the love of God above. He hears the raven's cry ; No sparrow small to earth can fall His care will not dcscrv. CTPRESS LEAVES. Ibl His sun benign He makes to shine On both the good and ill, And sends again the pleasant rain On just and unjust still. The flowers gay with much display Assume their brightest hue, And deem it meet with odors sweet To greet their lovers true. Awake from sleeji ! Go forth to reaj) ! Ye men who till the land ; The sun is bright, the fields are white. The harvest is at hand. While it is day do not delay To fill your barns with grain. For summer flies and wintry skies Will soon be here again. So now to-day I'll not delay With truth the mind to store ; Then wintry age may storm and rage. But 111 not fear his roar. LINES WRITTEN IN A PHOTOGEAPH ALBUM. BuTLEK, Pa., 1868. Now all who desire to see something new Have a right to inspect and to criticise too ; 158 CTPBESS LEAVES. But you must remember before you look That you are expected to add to this book ; And in judging of faces don't be too free, Unless you leave yours for others to see. TEIALS OF A YOUNG CONVERT. FreeporT, Pa., 1868. My mind is oft excited, My heart is oft delighted, But now my soul's benighted, I know not why ; As one with dreams affrighted I weep and sigh. When I on knees am bending, While grief my heart is rending. Oh, can I then be sending My fervent prayer To Him whom I'm offending With every tear ? Shall I to God complain ? Will He my prayer disdain ? And was it said in vain. Seek ye my face ? And can I not obtain Sufficient grace ? CYPRESS LEAVES. ^59 The God of nature knows That I have sought repose And prayed my eyes might close In their last sleep. That I might be of those Who cease to weep. But why should I despair, With soul depressed with care. And think my earnest prayer Is all in vain. Since God's own Son did bear My guilty stain ? Lord, I will trust in Thee, Whate'er my doubts may be. For this is Thy decree. To mortals given : Through trouble they should see The path to heaven. TO BESSIE. BuTLKR, Pa., 1868. Lovely Bessie, of perfect grace. Turn again on me thy face, And let the poet's pen proclaim The wondrous beauties of the same. Within my heart the passion fires A song of holy love inspires. 160 CYPRESS LEAVES. ni pour upon Euterpe's strings A stream of passion while she sings ; And while my eyes behold thy charms, I'll fold thee close within my arms. Then while our hearts together beat, We'll sweetest words of love repeat ; I'll drink sweet rapture from thine eyes. While heart to heart therein replies. And rosy lips with nectar sweet Shall oft in fond affection meet, AVhile heart to heart impatient calls. And longs to break its prison walls. But not on savage vengeance bent. Nor yet to kill are they intent ; But that they might their strength unite. Till lips shall melt and bosoms plight. And who shall say 'tis not discreet To clasp and kiss when lovers meet ? For all the joy of heaven above We find expressed in one word — love. THE LAST DAY. Pittsburg, Pa., 1868. Hark ! reverberative thunders Eoll along the azure arch. Bursting forth in awful numbers. Like an earthquake on its march. CYPRESS LEAVES. 161 Like the sound of falling forests. Like the thunder tramp and rattle Of ten thousand mighty horsemen As they onward rush to battle. Men in every place and station Stand with hands uplifted high. Horror-stricken, pale their faces, Gazing upward to the sky. ^Tis the thunderbolt of heaven, ^Tis an army's shout we hear ; ^Tis the sound of battle cannon Bursting on the startled ear. No ; 'tis Gabriel's signal trumpet. From the vault of heaven hurled. Sounding loud the day of judgment Round this sleeping, wicked world. Not alone the earth he shaketh, But the heavens also quake ; Now the light from earth he taketh. Now the stars the heavens forsake. All is changed as flash of lightning From the east to west doth fly ; Mortal man immortal turneth In the twinklino- of an eve. 162 CYPRESS LEA VE8. Calls lie loud to come to judgment. All the dead dotli quickly rise. And from earth we see them lifted. Where before appeared the skies. Judgment set ; the books are opened. And, according to their deeds. Men and angels Christ rewardeth. As the judgment day proceeds. Help, God ! that I may so live That, when called before Thy throne, Thou mayst say, " Oh, good and faithful V And pronounce my work ''well done.'' HOPE. {Written by request.) Ann Arbok, Mich., 1868. Named among the blessed three, Hope is next to Charity ; Hope, that longs for brighter rays, Hope, that waits for happier days. When the world is all ablaze We shall see, Standing with the blessed three, Hope embracing Charity. CYPRESS LEAVES. 163 Toiling on from day to clay. Fast our courage wears away ; But when courage is inflamed. And our valor may be blamed, Hope, that maketh not ashamed. Is our stay. Giving strength to help us on. When despair has quite begun. One her smiling infant gave To the cold and silent gi-ave ; Torn away at death's alarms From a loving mother's arms. She her babe of many charms Could not save ; But yet on heaven's golden street She hopes her blessed child to meet. Let us live in hope to-day, " While there's life there's hope," they say. Soldiers hope for freedom's band. Sailors hope to see the land. Christians hope in heaven to stand In array. We shall see the blessed three, Hope embracing Charity. 164 CYPRESS LEAVES. TO CARRIE. Ann Arbok, Mich., 1868. Think of me in pleasure's day. Think of me when far away ; When you bow your knee to pray. Oh, Carrie, think of me ! TRIALS OF A BOOK-AGENT. Mount Chestnut, Pa., 1868. The first of September I long shall remember As a day of much grief and vexation ; Let thick darkness hide it. And blackness affright it, And moanings be heard in creation. At breakfast that morning I got timely warning That half my day's labor was lost. I might then record it As toil unrewarded. Avoiding the sweat it would cost. Of all a jest making. My carpet sack taking, Away on my journey I press. CYPRESS LEAVES. 165 Determined to sell What saves men from hell — The Bible and Pilgrim's Progress. Not far I'd proceeded. With warnings unheeded. When clouds in the distance appear. And low thunders moaning. Like volcanoes groaning, Proclaim that the rain-cloud is near. But onward proceeding. These tokens unheeding. My books to the peasants I showed ; I strove hard to sell them. And often would tell them Such books were ne'er carried that road. With both eyes wide open. And mouth you could lope in. Their merits the farmers would praise ; They said they should buy them. They'd like much to try them. But then d n the cent they could raise. I left without selling. And now there's no telling Which one of these roads is the cleanest. 166 CYPRESS LEAVES. I swore "by the nation," In all the creation, Of mean places this was the meanest. The raindrops are falling, And thunders appalling Roll terribly now overhead ; On all sides surrounding There seemed trumpets sounding' Sufficient to waken the dead. Fierce lightnings now flashing, Their forked tongues dashing- Seemed for my life's blood to be sent ; Eain torrents are pouring, The tempest is roaring, The trees by the strong blast are bent. That day I was slaughtered. My stock was all watered, I returned to my last night's retreat. My books after drying, I went to bed sighing, Life's trials each traveller must meet. GYPJiE8S LEAVES. Kl*? TO BLANCHE. {On complaining that she couldn't sleep because her lover had left her.) Ann Arbor, Mich., 1869. Sigh not for the lover that's fled. Let thy heart in sweet solitude rest ; May the angels watch over thy bed. And thine eyes with sweet slumber be blest. TO ALLIE. Prospect, Pa., 1868. I kno"\t^ a little village girl With wealth of raven hair. With azure eyes and teeth of pearl. So modest and so fair. With lips that tempt the village beaux. My gentle Alice Carr, And breath as fragrant as the rose. You are too shy by far. To see your smiling eyes is joy. To press your hand is bliss ; But why should you deny your boy The rapture of a kiss ? 168 CYPRESS LEAVES. Perhaps this little maiden thought To play the sly coquette ; But prudent hearts will ne'er be caught In such a doubtful net. ■'Tis true, in half a joking way You promised to be mine ; But now your actions seem to say, Your proffers I decline. When dreaming of your sunny face I bought this golden band ; But how can I the jewel place Upon your lily hand ? To anchor raise, to sails unfurl. It grieves me, I confess ; But I can never wed the girl Whose lips I dare not press. A wooden man you should adore, AVith heart as cold as lead ; And he can occupy the floor. While you enjoy the bed. CYPRESS LEAVES. 169 TO MY SISTER— CALL IIER ADDIE. Ann Akbor, Mich., 1869. Yes ; call the baby Acldie May, That name I used to love ; It stirs the pulses of my soul Like music from above. That name recalls the memories Of loves that now arc dead ; Of soft brown eyes that looked in mine, And lips of cherry red. I loved a little girl at school. Her name was Addie Ray ; And Addie was my partner then, No matter what the play. At blackboard when we did our sums She stood close by my side. And when she couldn't get hers done, The figures I supplied. And when the teacher's back was turned. And no one else could see, Slie wrote love letters on the slate. And held it up to me. 170 CYPRESS LEAVES. In class, when she forgot the rule, I always sat so near, I held my book before my mouth And told it to her ear. She waited at the garden gate For me to come along, And often while we lingered there AVould sing a little song. I carried Addie's books to school. And when the day was wet The way we held tlie parachute I never shall forget. Alas ! alas ! for boyish dreams And school-days' happy hours. And for the little brown-eyed girl With cheeks and lips like flowers. The school broke up, the girls and boys Are scattered far away, And yet I never can forget My love for Addie Eay.