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THREE SCORE 
 
 POEMS, 
 
 WILLIAM P. TYNAN. 
 
 ^ O'' WASHING.^-' ' 
 
 NEW YOKE: 
 
 HUEST & CO., Publishers, 
 
 122 Nassau Steeet. 
 
COPYRIGHT^ 18865 
 — nv — 
 
 WILLIAM P. TYNAN. 
 
ooisrTEisrTS. 
 
 PAOE 
 
 The Dbama of the Eeal, - - - 11 
 
 Our Century, .... 12 
 
 Tnfi Tramp and the Cripple, - - - 15 
 
 The Little Butcher's Wooing, - - 18 
 
 A Short Journet, - - - - 22 
 
 She Laughed in Her Sleetb, - - 24 
 
 Janet's Lover, ----- 25 
 
 Anthem of Freedom, - . - 31 
 
 Blindness, ----- 32 
 
 Died in the Hospital, . - - 34 
 
 Fair Passaic, ----- 39 
 
 Terry Reads a Love Letter, - - ,41 
 
 Holiday Preparations, - - - - 44 
 
iv. CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Tbue Fame and False, , . . 45 
 
 The Actoe's Philosophy, - - - 48 
 
 Ravages op Toil, ... - 51 
 
 Wedlock, - - - , - 54 
 
 The Angel's Soliloquy, . - - 61 
 
 GuABD Well, - ... - 62 
 
 The Eich Man's Dkeam, ... 63 
 
 Saint John's Altar Cloth, - - - ^% 
 
 Satioue, Theoitgh the Valley Guide Me, 68 
 
 The Lamp o? Teuth, - - - - 69 
 
 My Lovely Little Deaes, - - - 70 
 
 A Messenger or Peace, . - - 72 
 
 Clouds aee but Vapoe, ... 75 
 
 Beitannia and Eein, - - - - 76 
 
 Heeoes of the Shoee, ... 78 
 
 Cast not Doubts, . ^ - - - 80 
 
 Happy New Yeas, .... 81 
 
 A Mechanic in Disguise, - - . 82 
 
 Love's Song of Soeeow, ... 84 
 
CONTENTS. V. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Fabmer's New Bucket, - - - 85 
 
 A Fish Stoey, . . w . gg 
 
 Hancock at Gettysbtjeg, - - . 91 
 
 Mechanical Education, ... 94 
 
 Wail of a Timid Victim, - . . 97 
 
 Legal Lapses, - - . - 100 
 
 Lesson of the Bibds, - .- - . 106 
 
 Little Patsy, _ _ . . ^qj 
 
 Moan of Toil, - - - . . ug 
 
 One Woeking Giel, - - . _ ng 
 
 A Plain Blunt Faeming Man, - - - 123 
 
 His Pooe Heaet, - - - _ 125 
 
 Power of Sympathy, - - - _ 127 
 
 Cunning Jake, - - _ . 131 
 
 The "Wasted Inheeitance, - . _ 134 
 
 The Lady and the Flower Giel, - - 136 
 
 Walk no Secret Way, - - - - 139 
 
 OuE Mother, - . . . 141 
 Promise, ----.. 143 
 
vi. CONTENTS. ' 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Two Fools, ... - 144 
 
 The Widow's Son, .... 147 
 
 The Beaten Wat, - - - . 153 
 
 To-morkow 's Litcy's Wedding Day an' Mine, 156 
 
 The Oephan, - - - - - 159 
 
 The Cabin in the Glen, - - - . 161 
 
 The Sexton's Stoey, - - - 163 
 
 The Baud's Eewabd, _ . . . 167 
 
 The Aech of Life, . - - - 170 
 
THREE SCORE POEMS. 
 
 THE DRAMA OF THE REAL. 
 
 The Drama of the Real moves along, 
 Upon the hurrying foothold of our globe, 
 And we, who are the actors, ever form. 
 From strength and weakness, agony and joy. 
 Its wondrous combinations with our lives; 
 Yet, while we wait our turns, still let us be 
 The heart-moved auditors of passing scenes, 
 And, touched by gentle sympathy, receive 
 New power to do more fittingly our parts; 
 Then may the wavering crowds, that hesitate. 
 Snatch from example gleaming brands to light 
 The upward reaching pathway of our kind; 
 Then may our drama's swift unpondered theme 
 Receive more strength, more light, more love, 
 more faith ! 
 
12 OUB CENTURY. 
 
 OUR CENTURY. 
 
 We who deem our Age time's greatest wonder, 
 And look upon the past as mornless night, 
 
 "Would, if we ponder weU, perceive our blunder, 
 And mark where gains our lamp its living light: 
 
 We delve with ease the earth for our foundations: 
 The past puts in our hands its pick and spade; 
 
 With pride we build, blind to our desecrations: 
 Of tombstones old our corner-stones are made. 
 
 Use brightens brighter still our sire's old glasses, 
 
 We find with them another star or two: 
 Space, wonder-stored, endures while life soon 
 passes, 
 They found their share while they were looking 
 through. 
 
 Proud as we are of vaunted modern science 
 Its fitful gleams drive not the shadows out, 
 
 And in the path it lights we loose reliance. 
 
 And trembling tread in twilight shades of doubt. 
 
OUR CENTURY. • 13 
 
 We've reached tlie second childhood of our letters. 
 We grope for head-lines on our dusty shelves, 
 
 Bright fancy's wings seem bound in age's fetters; 
 Yet we work on, wrapped in our little selves. 
 
 Do we yet heed our history's dreadful warning? — 
 Ah ! war's red streams yet gush upon our soil ! 
 
 Our earth's mad powers, their signs of doom stiU 
 scorning. 
 Loose not their grip upon the throat of toil. 
 
 We hold our ready mirror elevated, 
 
 And gaze on our reflection with delight: 
 
 O why deceive ourselves, by pride elated. 
 With uncorrected blemishes in sight ? 
 
 But, claim we may, one glory, for we earn it. 
 In one most wonderous labor we succeed. 
 
 And though we may have lost too much to learn it, 
 We know the secret of the demon Speed. 
 
 Yes, Speed is ours: we've harnessed unseen forces 
 To leap for us o'er time and distance on: 
 
 Speed — speed to grasp and spend long-stored re- 
 sources; 
 This prize alone our century has won. 
 
14 OUB CENTURY. 
 
 Beware ! its reaching footstep stirs new trouble ! — 
 That demon yet may laugh at us as fools; 
 
 For greed, grown master, yet may see his bubble 
 Burst by bare hands that told no novel tools. 
 
 Then let no breath of j^erfumed pride inflate us 
 To praise ourselves our fair deserts beyond. 
 
 The broadened future's eyes will justly rate us. 
 When our completed record they have conned. 
 
TEE TRAMP AND -THE CRIPPLE. 15 
 
 THE TRAMP AND THE CRIPPLE. 
 
 A wretched tramp lay on the grass 
 
 Lamenting cruel fate; 
 He saw the cheerful toiler pass, 
 
 The rich ride by in state, 
 And groaned aloud, " Despised am I, 
 - An outcast from my own, 
 With scarce a glance men pass me by — 
 
 I'm left to starve alone ! 
 
 O selfish world ! you turn your back 
 When you should give your hand; 
 You stretch misfortune on your rack, 
 You speed the erring on the track 
 Of crime, to curse the land ! " 
 
 A burdened cripple hobbhng by, 
 
 O'er-hearing his lament. 
 Cried, " Rise, come on with me, and try 
 The ways on which you may rely 
 
 To lead you to content?" 
 
16 THE TRAMP AND THE CRIPPLE. 
 
 The tramp upon his elbow rose, 
 
 And, with a laugh of scorn, 
 Cried, "Fool, your twisted body shows 
 
 The marks of man's relentless blows ; 
 You curse, poor cripple, 'mid your woes, 
 
 The day that you were born — 
 Begone ! your lot is worse than mine, 
 
 Content you cannot see; 
 The joys for which you vainly pine, 
 
 How can you give to me ? 
 Upon your path no light can shine, 
 
 'Tis black with misery !" 
 
 The cripple cried, "Not sot you lack 
 
 The light that's mine this day, 
 I've made these baskets, on my back, 
 And thus despair's accursed attack 
 
 I've foiled and turned away ! 
 Hope dwells within my lonely cot. 
 
 The years go calmly by, 
 For I'm contented with my lot. 
 
 And not afraid to die I 
 
 Come, share the work I do alone, 
 And you shall share my gains ? 
 
 You'll always find, when duty's done, 
 That sweet content remains; 
 
THE TRAMP AND THE CRIPPLE. 17 
 
 'Tis sloth that lurks apart to groan 
 
 With seK inflicted pains; 
 'Tis greed for what we do not own 
 
 That loads us down with chains!" 
 
 The tramp sprang upward with a bound, 
 
 He seemed to understand: 
 " At last" he cried, " a friend I've found. 
 
 Though I'm disgraced and banned. 
 Who lifts me upward from the ground. 
 
 And grasps my guilty hand I 
 
 O you, poor man, have faced the tide, 
 
 While I, with sturdy frame, 
 Drew back in fear, my face to hide 
 
 In hate's consuming flame, — 
 now my eyes you open wide, 
 
 You cover me with shame !" 
 
 He eased the cripple of his load, 
 
 That bent him down with pain ; 
 He gently helped him on the road. 
 He proved to him the debt he owed. 
 
 And smiled with hope again. 
 
18 THE LITTLE BUTCHERS WOOINQ, 
 
 THE LITTLE BUTCHER'S WOOING. 
 
 Ye timid men who wisli to wed, 
 
 But fear to speak the word, 
 In grumbling at your fate, instead, 
 "While fair-ones wait your words unsaid. 
 
 Your actions are absurd! 
 Go, get your cage, then show your head, 
 
 And whistle for your bird ! 
 
 This question-popping's easily done, 
 And those with pluck to try it on, 
 
 I'm told, succeed quite well. — 
 To show how maiden's hearts are won. 
 
 And how they help along the fun, 
 An anecdote I'll tell: — 
 
 A little butcher, fat and round, 
 
 Whose tender-loins were sweet, 
 Whose business principles were sound. 
 
 Once flourished and grew quite renowned: 
 For, in the fractions of a pound. 
 
 He never used deceit. 
 
THE LITTLE BUTCHER a WOOINQ. 19 
 
 Now, lie was getting rich with speed, 
 
 His drawers were full of cash; 
 Said he, one day, " A wife I need; 
 A wife who'd be a wife indeed, 
 
 But, if I act too rash, 
 I perhaps might choose and but succeed 
 In getting one filled with a greed 
 
 For dress and foolish dash; 
 One who, herself, might wish to lead, 
 
 And lead us both to smash !" 
 
 He did not go abroad to seek, 
 But carefully, week after week, 
 
 He cast a business eye 
 On each fair maid, with blushing cheek, 
 
 Who, modestly and shy, 
 Came in to purchase juicy steak 
 
 For their Mamas to fry. 
 
 He made no love to them, not he, 
 He let no tender flame 
 Put wise reserve to shame, 
 
 But kept his ready heart quite free 
 
 To fire, in its entirety. 
 When he had found his game. 
 
20 THE LITTLE BUTCHER'S WOOING. 
 
 He marked their every look and word, 
 
 Their carriage and their gait; 
 He gave an ear to all he heard. 
 And trifles, that might seem absurd. 
 
 All exercised their weight; 
 But, when his head and heart concurred, 
 The little man no more demurred, 
 
 But yielded to his fate. 
 
 " Now, there's the tailor's daughter fair," 
 
 He said, " the merry Rose, 
 I do believe my heart is there, 
 
 To her will I propose !" 
 
 Well, in she came one morning bright — 
 
 Our butcher was alone — 
 He waited on her with delight. 
 She smiled — he blushed with all his might, 
 
 And speech, alas, was gone ! 
 Have pity on the fellow's plight ! 
 
 The same you might have done. 
 
 He took her hand: his eyes said, " Stay?" 
 
 He gazed with warm regard; 
 " Now, Butcher " said the maiden gay, 
 
 " Why do you thus retard 
 My steps? Now just you go away 1" 
 
THE LITTLE BUTCHERS WOOING. 21 
 
 In answer, all tliat he could say 
 Was: "Kose, can you make lard?" 
 
 Slie laughed : " O what a thing to ask !" 
 
 Warmth filled her merry eye : 
 " I never — never had the task, 
 
 I don't know — I can try !" 
 
 " O Rose I see you understand !" 
 
 He cried, "You're mine for life ! 
 Here, take your little butcher's hand ?" 
 She shook it; while her face he scanned, 
 
 And knew he'd won a wife. 
 
 Now timid men who wish to wed. 
 
 But fear to speak the word. 
 Say what the httle butcher said, 
 
 And don't appear absurd 
 By grumbling at your fate instead. 
 No ! Get your cage, then show jowc head, 
 
 And whistle for your bird ! 
 
22 A SHOBT JOURNEY. 
 
 A SHOKT JOUENEY. 
 
 Aroused from quiet rest, before the dawn, 
 We gain the car, checked briefly, on its way, 
 And see the Summer morn in beauty rise. 
 What joy to ride on rails of shining steel, 
 By the huge motor swiftly steamed along, 
 O'er fertile plains in varied culture decked, 
 Through dense-grown groves, where gaps amid 
 
 the green 
 Let in the dazzling out-posts of the day ! 
 How full the slumberous grandeur of the scene ! 
 Bathed in the sun-warmed ether all earth smiles 
 With dreams of fruitage; while our rushing train, 
 With clamorous inroads on this reign of Calm, 
 Cleaves the deep silence, pushing either side. 
 Vast waves of sound, which roll through wood 
 
 and hill 
 The startled echoes waking into life 
 To chase our bold disturber on its way. 
 Still on we go : the sun of evening now 
 Doth seem to gather in, like glowing threads. 
 Its furthest reaching rays of golden light; 
 
A SHORT JOURNEY. 23 
 
 While shadow follows to possess the land. — 
 Westward, behold! the glow intensifies; 
 The backward reflex of a further dawn. 
 
 Consider, now, how like, is our short trip. 
 
 To the career that Man desires through life; 
 
 In confidence and joy to speed along 
 
 With hope the same, though wild the storm 
 
 without; 
 As when upon our way the sunshine smiles; 
 With souls like ours to-day to borrow light. 
 When light is by, and give it forth again 
 To those who grope amid their gathered gloom; 
 And thus to hurry on, amid Mankind, 
 Until our time and place to stop has come, 
 Then, blessing all the friends made on our way. 
 Who travel stiU a little further on. 
 Step down to earth again, in hope, alone. 
 
24 SEE LA UGHED IN HER SLEEVE. 
 
 SHE LAUGHED IN HEK SLEEVE. 
 
 With fun I'm nearly dying, 
 
 When lovers come to sigh; 
 O, if you saw them trying 
 
 Their plans to please my eye I — 
 But while they strive to capture 
 
 My heart, in webs they weave, 
 I only feel the rapture 
 
 Of laughing in my sleeve. 
 
 O, they can't catch me napping, 
 
 My heart is free as air ! 
 To have success in trapping 
 
 Game, let them seek, elsewhere ! 
 In truth they need much schooling, 
 
 Their vows I can't believe, 
 I know they're only fooling, 
 
 While laughing in my sleeve. 
 
JANET'S LOVER. 25 
 
 JANEY'S LOVEE. 
 
 A lawyer, newly fledged, sat in distress, 
 
 And sighed to wear the bright wings of success; 
 
 He viewed his barren parchment on the wall, 
 
 And feared his landlord's urgent business call, 
 
 Now at his door he hears a timid tap; 
 
 He feels his heart against his lean ribs rap 
 
 With joyous force; for he in fancy sees 
 
 The fair proportions of his maiden fees, 
 
 " Come in !" he cries, — now in his entrance stands 
 
 A young man just in town from farming-lands. 
 
 Our friend arises, dignified and grand. 
 
 And to the stranger stretches out his hand, 
 
 " Ah ! walk right in?" he says, " and, let me say, 
 
 I'm very glad you've caught me in to-day — " 
 
 "What?" cries the stranger, backing to the door, 
 
 " A sprig like you run this 'ere legal-store ?" 
 
 "Why —yes !" our lawyer says "the rule is good: 
 
 'Young men for action,' That's well understood." 
 
 "Ah!" said the rustic, "then we'll both agree, 
 
 Start up one, will you, right away for me ? 
 
 I chanced to see yer sign an' come to you, 
 
 I want you, now, to put the thing right through!" 
 
26 JANEY'8 LOVER, 
 
 " Be seated ?" says the lawyer, " I will see — 
 
 Five dollars, sir is my retaining fee." 
 
 " Oh !" says the man, " I'll pay my dues — I'm 
 
 able !" 
 He quickly claps the money on the table; 
 The lawyer takes it, with an inward grin, 
 PuUs down his vest and puts the money in, 
 Then tells the simple stranger to begin, 
 " All right " he says, " to start the proper way 
 Just book my name in full ? — It's Peter May, 
 Now Boss, I don't want no one else to hear 
 My yarn — I think thar's some one hoverin' near ?" 
 "No danger," says the lawyer, "None at all; 
 It's only people walking through the hall," 
 " All rights— here goes. — I went to see a gal 
 In Browertown, right up by the canal; 
 I live close by an' had n't fur to go — 
 Now, her folks think that I'm a little slow, 
 They've stuffed her with such humbug about me 
 That she's got kind o' stiffish, don't you see; 
 She told me what they sed, the night I quit, 
 And kind o' half believed them, so we split; 
 They sed that I'd no grit, was easy sheered, 
 An' told her I could never grow a beard — 
 Now just you take a look ? That pint I'll smash ! 
 I've gone to work a raisin' a mustache I — 
 
JANET'S LOVER. 27 
 
 Yes, an' they told her slie 'must shake the gawk 
 Who'd never make his mark except with chalk V 
 An' that I'd take her on our weddin' towr 
 By the canal, at half a mile an hour — 
 That I'd not rid on steam-rails in my life, 
 An' would n't do it, nor allow my wife — 
 They even sed I thought the cars might bust 
 When I heard that — well, I just kind o' cussed ! — 
 They knowed that they was lyin from the fust ! 
 You see, it hurts a feller now-adays 
 To git his name up for old fashioned ways — 
 It was a burnin' shame, I'll always say. 
 To choke my gal off in that crooked way ! 
 But countin' all, the one that's most to blame 
 Is Ike Van Nore — that's right put dovm his name- 
 He's my little Janey's second cousin, 
 Round her, full-blast, he's lately bin a buzzin'; 
 Her folks have given him the inside track, 
 He's their own stock, an' on his willin' back 
 They want to bind their acres ! That's a fack ! 
 Now, Janey kind o' liked my quiet way. 
 An' she'd be wearin' yet my ring to-day. 
 If Ike Van Nore had only kep' away ! 
 Now just to seal their bargain they will take 
 My Janey's heart ! Oh ! it's a goin' to break ! 
 I'll stop 'em Boss ! — ^You tell me what to do ? 
 
28 JANET'S LOVER. 
 
 I want to buy some law^ — put some one through, 
 Oh ! just go in — I'll do what's fair by you !" 
 "Yes, yes;" the lawyer cries, with eager face, 
 "Depend on me — I understand your case: — 
 Fird, I'll arraign that scroundraUy Van Nore 
 For libel ! thus I'll start our legal war, 
 Second, The young girl's father I'll arrest 
 For circulating slanders unrepressed ! 
 Third, I'll put his wife in joint defehse ! 
 Costs you no more and runs up their expense. 
 Fourth, a suit 'gainst Janey then I bring 
 For breach of promise ! she returned your ring. 
 Fifth, I'U charge the whole conspiring crew 
 With plots, against the law, to injure jou ! 
 Sixth, — " Hold on !" the staggered rustic cries, 
 As to his feet he springs with frightened eyes. 
 That's just about enough, for once, I guess. 
 An' don't you think that we could do with less ?" 
 " With less ?" the lawyer asks, " Would I begin 
 These cases if I thought I could n't win ? — 
 Come, my dear fellow, victory is sweet — 
 I'U bring these people down beneath your feet !" 
 The rustic shakes his head and says no more, 
 But turns and slowly walks towards the door; 
 The lawyer thus by showing forth his scheme 
 Awakes his client from an ugly dream. 
 
JANEY'S LOVER. 29 
 
 " One moment — wait ?" lie cries, I want to know — " 
 iThe rustic says; "Just let the thing stand so! 
 The money that I've given you is yours, 
 You've dosed my folly with the best of cures 
 For now I know exactly how I stand 
 An' even though I lose my Janey's hand 
 I'll do her folks no damage for her sake ! 
 I've dodged the ragged edge of my mistake I 
 An' now, if Janey marries Ike Van Kore — 
 Well — she may do as gals have done before, 
 Just take to him, an' think of me no more — 
 But, though he shows he likes her every day, 
 He'll never have my feelings — that I'll say !" 
 The lawyer meets the rustic's eye to see 
 The simple light of true nobility, 
 Which out through gathered moisture gleams, to 
 
 prove 
 The pure unselfish attributes of love ! 
 " Well done !" the lawyer says, "Your plan is best. 
 To do what you think right, and risk the rest ! 
 Hark ! another sound outside the door; 
 It opens while they listen, as-before. 
 And, look ! there comes, in- walking, Ike Van Nore — 
 " Pete ! he cries, " out there I heard you speak — 
 I've found that you're a man — an' I'm a sneak! 
 I seen you passin' Janey's, comin' down, 
 
30 JANET'S LOVEB. 
 
 An' like a cur I dogged you into town — 
 Oh ! now I feel so small ! You showed to me 
 My plain straight duty that I could n't see ! — 
 Pete, I have lied about you all along, 
 A thinkin' aU men done it — I was wrong ! 
 I'm goin' to set you right this very day — 
 Come back with me to Janey's ? wiU you — say ? 
 She's cried a lot, Pete, since you went away — 
 Oh, say you'll come ; I'll see the thing clear through ! 
 I'll show them aU how mean I've been to jou !" 
 Their hands are clasped. In choking voice and low, 
 Pete says, " All right, don't say no more, I'll go !" 
 Both to the lawyer turn, no word they say. 
 But press his nervous hand and haste away. 
 Now, they are gone, upon the lawyer's face 
 Mild lines of meditation we may trace; 
 The pure joy of his client now he shares; 
 No blot the first page of his docket bears ! 
 
ANTHEM OF FREEDOM. 31 
 
 ANTHEM OF FREEDOM. 
 
 Hark to tlie echoes ! the millions are singing 
 
 The Song of a nation united in duty ! 
 Hark! the loud joy-notes o'er mountains are 
 ringing — 
 Behold the green hill-sides now laugh in their 
 beauty ! 
 Joy fills the plains where rich verdure is springing; 
 Hark I Hark to a nation united in duty ! 
 
 Hail happy land where bright Freedom is dwell- 
 ing! 
 Hail ! hail to the hearts that in triumph sus- 
 tain it ! 
 Blest be the heroes, all dangers repelling, 
 Who yielded their life blood for loved ones to 
 gain it. 
 Hark ! the glad anthem of Freedom is swelling ! 
 Hail? Hail to the hearts that in triumph sus- 
 tain it 1 
 
32 BLINDNESS. 
 
 BLINDNESS. 
 
 An old blind man, who was not always blind, 
 Filled with remorse, seeks, in his native place, 
 The trusting hearts he turned from years ago: 
 Where they were wont to be none now he finds. 
 And from his heart the cry comes forth ! "All gone ! 
 O ye strangers, tell me — teU me where ? — 
 Come, Mary, come ! — you could forgive me now — 
 Now that the circling sun brings me no morn — 
 O let me lean upon you ? — guide my steps, 
 Weakened by weight of retributive years, 
 That I may know your with me once again ! 
 Let — let me feel our children — bid them call — 
 Yes, bid them call me Father ! Mary tell — 
 O tell them to forgive for pity's sake !" — 
 He waits and calls— he waits and calls again, 
 But backward to his quickened hearing comes 
 Naught but the echo of his broken voice; 
 He bows his head — he feels that he's alone 
 And from his sightless eyes the tear-drops fall. 
 Ah ! moisture comes too late to flowers whose roots 
 Are shriveled up and blasted by neglect. 
 Filled with despair, he cries for some kind hand 
 
BLINDNESS. 33 
 
 To take him to his loved ones ere he dies. 
 The passers-by, not knowing how to grant 
 The wish that forms the burden of his moan, 
 Deem him demented as they move away. 
 Now, listening to his voice, a little child 
 Turns from her simple play to guide his steps; 
 Her thoughtless wisdom, passing that of age. 
 Gives her the light to know what path to take — 
 She leads him by his trembling hand to where 
 The grave-yard's silent habitations are. 
 And feels that she has answered his request. 
 Yes! there he finds his loved-ones'' resting-place; 
 For though his eyes — his rayless blinded eyes — 
 Can never see their long-untended graves, 
 ¥et still at last he finds them; for he gropes 
 From stone to stone, with eager palsied hands, 
 Until their chiseled names traced out at length 
 Tell him how near they are beneath the clay. 
 See there I the child plucks blossoms by the path 
 And sings with joy while woe kneels dumb beside. 
 
M DIED IN THE HOSPITAL. 
 
 "DIED IN THE HOSPITAL." 
 
 A NEWS ITEM. 
 
 The morning paper comes; these words we read, 
 " Shot in a drunken row," — We take no heed, 
 But pass it by, news of more note, to find; 
 And soon the words are banished from the mind. 
 Let's pause for once, and trace the mad career 
 Of him who's fate's so briefly noticed here ? 
 " Shot in a drunken row," and taken where 
 Each sufferer gets the same unceasing care. 
 
 Upon a bed the wretched victm lay: 
 A bearded man with hair just touched with gray. 
 The ministering Sister's prayers to Heaven arise, 
 That saving grace may reach him ere he dies. 
 She whispered in his ear; he shook his head, 
 And then in low despairing accents said, 
 "A Priest," you say, "for me?" No, No! Too late! 
 I've lived the life, I can't avert the fate ! 
 " God will forgive " j^ou say, " if I repent " 
 'Tis useless now, he knows the heart's intent; 
 Will my weak words — of fear — life ebbing fast — 
 Atone for all the reckless years I've passed ? 
 
DIED IN THE HOSPITAL. 35 
 
 Sister, let no one come — here let me die 
 With only you to close my sightless eye ! — 
 I'll tell you why I'm here, estranged of God, 
 That other men may shun the path I've trod; 
 And, when you tell them of my life and fate, 
 Their acts may prove repentance, ere too late. 
 My wretched end's in keeping with my life : 
 Shot by a drunken friend in bar-room strife I 
 Curst be the vile companions of the night ! 
 Curst be the rum that bound our compact tight I 
 Vainly the victim tries to burst each chain, 
 Alas! " tis useless: they but tighter strain! 
 I would to God I could recall the day 
 When from my island home I came away ! 
 And let new life again from that day start. 
 With each sworn pledge unbroken in my heart ! 
 Upon that morning, on the jutting pier 
 Stood the few friends who to my heart were dear, 
 I felt my father's blessing on my head. 
 And on my cheek the tears my mother shed; 
 I felt my loving sister's last embrace : 
 My sweet-heart's kiss was burning on my face; 
 My trembling hand which truest friends had 
 
 wrung. 
 The gathering moisture from my eye-lids flung; 
 While towards my home I gazed, with dimming 
 
 eye. 
 
36 DIED IN THE HOSPITAL. 
 
 Till all had vanished, save the sea and sky. 
 Why leave them all — the ones I love the best ? 
 Where was I bound ? of what was I in quest ? 
 Ambition's voice into my willing ear 
 Had whispered, " Youth, go seek a broader 
 
 sphere !" 
 The ship in safety reached the destined port, 
 The loud salute boomed from the harmless fort, 
 The bright sun smiled upon the rippling bay. 
 And on the vessel 'twas a joyous day. 
 We reach the pier, expectant friend meets friend. 
 While shouts of joy on every side ascend, 
 And buoyed with hope — my fortune in my hand — 
 I step upon ambition's promised land. 
 Ah ! weak — weak minded — dazzled by the glare 
 Of the great city, I kept loitering there. 
 Instead of pushing forward to the West, 
 Where blessings wait the man who does his best ! 
 I wrote a few brief letters home, at first, 
 But soon I ceased — ashamed to tell the worst — 
 The worst ! O sister, evil was the day 
 When from my humble home I strayed away; 
 Look at me now ! Behold my wretched end: 
 A poor weak minded sot without a friend ! 
 They sought me once — an honest youth — to sell 
 Their liquor in a gilded gambling-" hell '* — 
 Oh, fatal step ! I took the offered place 
 
DIED IN THE HOSPITAL. 37 
 
 That downward led to misery and disgrace. 
 
 I there became — inevitable fate ! — 
 
 A rogue, a drunkard and a profligate. 
 
 I once heard news from home : My father 
 
 dead — 
 My mother dying; and my sweet-heart wed; 
 My orphan sister breaking strangers' bread — 
 But, oh ! My heart was like a flinty stone 
 Light was my grief; so callous had I grown. 
 For years I've tossed upon dark passion's sea 
 A moral wreck ! no future hope for me ! 
 Lost — lost I I've spurned the hands held out to 
 
 save, 
 And now I'm drifting to a pauper's grave ! 
 Ah — sister — look ! the wound accursed bleeds— 
 What damp is this that on my f orhead beads ? 
 Mother — kind mother — wipe my chilly brow ! 
 Father — O father ! come and bless me now ! 
 They come not — no — when they on me relied, 
 I cared not how they lived nor how they 
 
 died!— 
 O sister, stay ! — For me no priest — no prayer ! 
 Nothing — nothing now but black despair ! 
 Ah ! — Bring a light ! — How dark ! — A light ! — 
 
 A light ! 
 Where are you ? — ^Ah ! your hand ! — good night ! — 
 
 good night !" 
 
38 DIED IN THE HOSPITAL. 
 
 His soul liad fled unto its God away — 
 
 Upon tlie coucli lay stretched but lifeless clay ! 
 
 The sister, veiling the dark rigid face, 
 
 Retired -with moistened eye and noiseless pace 
 
 " He died as he had lived," and side by side 
 
 "With those who strayed like him and like him 
 
 died 
 They laid him down: a moral suicide. 
 
FAIR PASSAIC. 89 
 
 O FAIR PASSAIC! 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 fair Passaic, loved place of birth, 
 I've sailed o'er many a sea, 
 
 And now, O dearest spot on earth, 
 
 I turn once more to thee ! 
 Oft on thy banks, in dreams afar, 
 
 I've stood, alas ! to wake 
 And look with sighs on some bright star 
 
 That gleamed o'er fair Passaic. 
 
 While by thy side in happy days 
 I caught the morning beams. 
 
 And in thy tide could sit and gaze, 
 O loveliest of streams ! 
 
 1 little knew, as time should glide, 
 
 The luring world would break 
 Sweet ties that bound me to thy side, 
 My bright — my fair Passaic ! 
 
 Once more I stand upon the spot 
 For which my heart did yearn. 
 
40 
 
 FAIR PASSAIC. 
 
 They lire ! They live ! Look, from the cot. 
 They hail their child's return ! 
 
 Our tears of joy are falling fast — 
 No more will I forsake 
 
 The loved ones I embrace at last, 
 Beside the fair Passaic. 
 
TERBT READS A LOVE LETTER, 41 
 
 TERKY READS A LOYE LETTER. 
 
 Enter Teery brushing coed, and whistling. 
 Teery {pausing at his work.) 
 
 Shure, now I think me masther is in love. 
 He's just as sentimental as a dove; 
 He sighs an' groans an' looks up at the sky, 
 Like farmers whin the weather is too dhry. 
 
 {As he brushes coat a note drops from 
 
 orie of the pockets. He picks it up and 
 
 smells it.) 
 
 Hello ! what's this ? A sinted note ! now, there ! 
 I was quite right — he is in love, I'd swear ! — 
 It has no seal — I'll have to take a jpeep — 
 Should I ? Yes, I must ! — I could n't sleep — 
 He'd just as soon I'd know — he has airs — 
 He likes to know about my love affairs ! — 
 Well here goes now — Oh is n't it delightin' 
 When by sweet larnin's help we can read writin' ! 
 {Looks to see that he is not observed 
 and then opens the note and reads, 
 " O maiden wid the tindher eye, 
 Bright spectacle an which to muse ! 
 
42 TEBRY BEADS A LOVE LETTER. 
 
 I'll tear my hair or shurely die 
 If you my suit refuse," 
 
 Faith, I can't understand it ? Let me see — 
 What can the meanin' o' the first hne be ? 
 He says, '* O maiden wid the tindher eye," 
 That's quare ! — Ah I now I see the raison why, 
 She only has but one ! That's it, yes, yes, 
 A tindher one at that — I'm right I guess 
 Ah, in what trouble must the cratur be — 
 Too bad ! — But what comes next, now, let me see ? 
 " Bright spectacle an which to muse ?" Its plain 
 That she wears specks, poor thing to aise her pain. 
 What's this ? " I'll tear my hair or shurely die ?" 
 He'll do just what he says, she may rely: — 
 Ha, ha, ha ! he'll tear his hair or dye it ! 
 Shure he's far gone — an' he might aisly thry it, 
 Ha, ha ! — but murther ! this I must n't lose — 
 Ho ! Ho : he says : " If you my suit refuse ?" 
 His suit ? His suit ? ha, ha ! Do I mistake it ? 
 No thim's the words — an' faith, I think she'd take 
 
 it! 
 Never was offer made so moighty stupid; 
 No time in all the history o' Cupid ! 
 A man that says that he'll pull out his hair 
 Or dye it if his comin' wife won't wear 
 
TEBRT READS A LOVE LETTER. 
 
 4a 
 
 The trousers that are his by all that's fair ! 
 Augh I that's too much to stand ! But, then, I 
 
 think 
 This conies of makin' love wid pen an' ink, 
 Forever, while my tongue is in its place, 
 I'll meet the cunnin' darlents face to face; 
 An' never thrust to aither ink or pen 
 When warm, live, lovin' words their hearts can 
 
 win! — 
 Ah ! My masther callin' ! — There's the note 
 Safe back deep in the pocket of his coat — 
 Comin', sir ! — Oh why can he not be 
 Just cute enough to ax advoce from me ! 
 I'd teach him how to win the heart o' woman — 
 He's caUin' me again — Yes, sir ! — I comin' ! 
 
 {Exit Teeey. 
 
44 HOLIDAY FREPARATI0N8. 
 
 HOLIDAY PREPARATIONS. 
 
 Things are quite lively everywhere; 
 
 Men, birds and beasts alike prepare, 
 
 All working in their various ways, 
 
 To cater for the holidays; 
 
 Fat turkeys now pluck out their quills 
 
 And quite politely write their wills, 
 
 Spring chickens plump prepare for dressing. 
 
 To be at table for the blessing. 
 
 Young bucks propose to join the fun; 
 
 Leap from their skins and take a run 
 
 Into gravy and venison; 
 
 And steers, just for the season's sake, 
 
 Do not object to make a steak; 
 
 While all good folks, to make life pleasant, 
 
 Prepare for making many a present; 
 
 And all things move just as they should. 
 
 By sacrifice performing good — 
 
 Now, this should be weU underwood ! 
 
TRUE FAME AND FALSE. 45 
 
 TKUE FAME AND FALSE, 
 
 " Fame is on swift wings of terror spread, 
 
 See! quivering lips speak most the name they 
 
 dread. 
 Fame frowns at noble deeds, but smiles on crime." 
 Ambition thus prompts power throughout aU time. 
 
 Can it be true ? Do men, like beasts of prey, 
 
 Pounce on the weak, and gain a horrid sway. 
 
 To have fame sing them in another day ? 
 
 Will fame awake her song and smiling stand 
 
 Holding such monsters by their bloody hand? 
 
 Not so ! the fame that wakes by despot's throne 
 
 Is false — the feeble echo of a groan ! 
 
 Let history speak ! she, from her towering hight, 
 
 Scans every age and judges it aright; 
 
 Upon her page trace out the black career 
 
 Of him who seeks for fame through wrong and 
 
 fear; 
 Who loosens on the weak his war-trained bands, 
 And cuts a ghastly trail through peaceful lands. 
 See there the woe the outrage and the shame 
 A bloody sodden earth; a sky of flame; 
 
46 TBUE FAME AND FALSE. 
 
 And all to force the world to breaths the spoiler's 
 
 name. 
 Read how, the conquest o'er, he seaks to rear 
 A high presumptuous pile into the air; 
 How prostituted art yields to his scheme, 
 And shows him forms that match his brightest 
 
 dream ! 
 Read how his slaves, the harvest of his crime, 
 Uplift the walls with which he'd laugh at time; 
 And how the master's lash amid their groans 
 Goads them still on to heap the blood-stained 
 
 stones 
 Till, harnessed to their load, they fall to death, 
 Using for bitter curses their last breath ! 
 How, turning to the pile ere life has fled, 
 They call down vengeance on its founder's head ! 
 All this we read: tracing the course that's run 
 When, fettered peace and guarded luxury won, 
 Discipline relaxed vice raging on. 
 The despot's acts, exampled through the state, 
 Sap virtue's roots and sign his coming fate; 
 When round his throne there comes a stormy 
 
 time 
 And crime's own weapon strikes the heart of crime ! 
 Thus history's Moral with her theme doth blend. 
 For retribution marks the tyrant's end: 
 He falls and o'er his bones fierce factions rage; 
 
TRUE FAME AND FALSE. 47 
 
 His empire's spoils their eager hands engage; 
 While the false fame that wove his bloody shroud 
 Seeks other dupes among the warring crowd. 
 
 Where are his tall-reared monuments of crime ? 
 
 Stand they not still to point us to his time ? 
 
 No — they are gone ! They're stricken from on high, 
 
 Down in the dust their shattered fragments lie, 
 
 Enigmas sad beneath the savant's eye. 
 
 All he has gained for his ambitious rage 
 
 Is one ensanguined stain on history's page ! 
 
 Where stands this warning forth in bold rehef : — 
 
 Beware Ambition ! bloody fame is brief ! 
 
 True Fame, firm-based on good done to Mankind, 
 
 Lives through all time in loving hearts enshrined ! 
 
48 THE AGTOB'S PEILOSOPHF. 
 
 THE ACTOE'S PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 I met an actor on the train, 
 
 He was in talking mood, 
 He rattled on in lively strain, 
 He mimiced cunning men and vain; 
 
 His humor did me good, 
 He said, " Not only on the stage 
 
 Do men go through their parts. 
 But when their deeds we rightly guage, 
 We find they walk, from youth to age, 
 
 With masks upon their hearts. 
 
 Just watch the politician place 
 
 His bait for catching votes, 
 See how he bows, with smiling face. 
 And talks with condescending grace. 
 
 To men with ragged coats; 
 Look how he gives to them his hand; 
 
 He hopes to be repaid, 
 He would not for a moment stand, 
 But that the future he has planned 
 
 Requires their humble aid. 
 
TEE ACTORS PHILOSOPHY. 49 
 
 And there's yoiir grasping man, whose heart 
 
 The love of gold contains, 
 Whose principles from profits start. 
 And go unchallenged on the mart. 
 
 In view of further gains; 
 He plays one part, and one alone, 
 
 That's all he ever tried; 
 He gets more pay than me I'll own. 
 But then I'll bet, when I am done, 
 
 I'll feel more satisfied. 
 
 But there's a kind of chap I know, 
 
 Who works with heart and brain. 
 Who, though his breast be wrung with woe, 
 WiU to his duty smiting go. 
 
 And never show his pain: 
 Whose friendship, like the sunshine clear. 
 
 Unshadowed by a doubt. 
 Shines on undimmed from year to year; 
 The weak to cheer; to dry the tear. 
 
 And scatter joys about. 
 
 Life may be dark, but through it all. 
 
 If but our hearts are right, 
 If we stand ready for our call. 
 Then, be our parts however small, 
 
 We'll get our share of light. 
 
50 THE AGTOB'8 PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Hello ! I've talked till — Here we are, 
 
 Your journey's at an end! 
 Just wait — I'll see you from the car — 
 " Stop over ?" Not to-day— Ta, ta, 
 
 My good— My Noble Friend !— 
 Say ? — Though my speech is cut, now see 
 
 And don't forget the text, 
 And if you don't — well, I'll agree. 
 If you should wish, that it shall be 
 
 Continued in our next." 
 
 I shook his hand, and left the car 
 
 To seek my settled home; 
 The genial actor speeds afar. 
 Unscathed by life's contentious jar, 
 
 Though doomed the earth to roam: 
 And well I know he'll prove to all 
 
 That, if our hearts are right, 
 And if we're faithful to our call. 
 Then, be our parts however small, 
 
 We'll get our share of light. 
 
RAVAGES OF TOIL. 51 
 
 EAVAGES OF TOIL. 
 
 Where bright Passaic, down from the rocks, 
 
 Into the gulf goes leaping, 
 A poor old man, with feeble form, 
 
 For hours sat 'sadly weeping; 
 A little merry bright-eyed girl, 
 
 Who o'er the grass went skipping. 
 Now paused to hear some distant soiind, 
 
 Then to his seat came tripping; 
 
 " Grandpa," she said, " let us go home ? 
 
 I hear the shop-bells ringing 
 And look ? the birds fi'om distant woods 
 
 Their homeward way are winging," 
 " Ah, Carrie dear !" the old man said, 
 
 " The birds fly home in gladness, 
 But, when we turn to go to ours, 
 
 My heart is filled with sadness; 
 
 Your father, chUd, no more is there 
 
 To give us kindly greeting 
 He sleeps in death before his time — 
 
 Alas! his years were fleeting; 
 
52 RAVAGES OF TOIL. 
 
 He strove so hard to give us bread; 
 
 He knew, while he was working 
 The long — long hours, that seeds of death 
 
 In his weak frame was lurking. 
 
 He died — his savings paid the men 
 
 Whose skill had failed to aid him. 
 And left enough to dig the grave 
 
 In which, at last, we laid him, 
 Beside your mother, chUd, he sleeps. 
 
 His soul with her's rewarded; 
 For Joys proportioned to life's woes 
 
 To freed souls are accorded," 
 
 'Mid stifled sobs the little girl 
 
 Said : " Grandpa, we're alone now, 
 You are weak and I am strong. 
 
 Just see how tall I've grown now ? 
 Let me go to the mill to work ? 
 
 There 're girls as young as me there," 
 She smoothed his scanty locks and said, 
 
 " May I not work for thee there ?" 
 
 " Never !" the old man cried, " My chUd, 
 Your father and your mother 
 
 Were victims of regardless toil, 
 You shall not be another I 
 
RAVAGES OF TOIL. 53 
 
 Some men, made rich by willing hands, 
 Love not their humble neighbor; 
 
 I'd rather see you dead, my child, 
 Than tortured by their labor ! 
 
 The twilight shades were deepening fast 
 
 As, homeward from the river, 
 Grandsire and grand-child moved with trust 
 
 In an Almighty giver. 
 O may the men with strength to rear 
 
 The fabric of our nation 
 Repel in time the hands that dare 
 
 To weaken its foundation ! 
 
54 WEDLOCK. 
 
 WEDLOCK. 
 
 A DIALOGUE. 
 
 Fkedeeick is discovered, alone, reading. 
 
 FREDEBICK. 
 
 Sucli learned folly wisest men can write ! 
 
 This one, in grave sententious style, asserts 
 
 That true love still exists upon the earth. 
 
 And holds dominion o'er humanity; 
 
 That with it Joy, attendant hand-maid, walks. 
 
 While woe, that else would crush the feeble heart, 
 
 Looks powerless from afar and dare not act. 
 
 So runs the flattering tenor of his theme — 
 
 As if mankind were but a race of doves. 
 
 To bni and coo, to mate and multiply — 
 
 Away with him ! 
 
 ( Throws hook aside and takes up 
 another one. 
 
 This is the man for me ! 
 He somewhere shows that passion, miscalled love, 
 Brings all the ills which strike humanity — 
 
 {Looks over the book. 
 
WEDLOCK 55 
 
 Enter Aethub. 
 
 AETHUR. 
 
 Ah ! Frederick, at your books ? come rouse your- 
 self— 
 Come look around — it's time you chose a wife ! 
 Nigh forty years you've seen and still your heart 
 Beats coldly on unwarmed "by woman's love. 
 
 FREDEEICK. 
 
 Now, Arthur, well you know I'd rather live 
 In freedom thus, than struggle to obtain 
 The ideal partner pictured in my dreams; 
 For, by the fervid impulse hurried on, 
 I might instead draw to my heart a bane. 
 And groan through shortened years in misery. 
 Arthur, your luck was chance; and I could show 
 That for the one by marriage blessed like you 
 Hundreds there are curst by its bonds for life. 
 
 AETHUB. 
 
 "Well, go on Fred, go on and prove your case, 
 While I will champion the other side. 
 And try to answer every argument 
 You bring against the marriage state. 
 
56 WEDLOCK. 
 
 FEEDEBICK. 
 
 Just as you say — your challenge I accept ? 
 And now I'll prove you that your happiness 
 Is but the rare exception to my rule : — 
 That wedlock frowns at love and nurses hate. 
 "When passion's potent whisper fires the heart, 
 And bids the brain to its dictates to conform, 
 Then are the eyes of calm discernment closed. 
 And woman faultless shines in angel's mould; 
 Thus, on her beauty's frail and fading charm, 
 Man's blind impassioned love is weakly based; 
 And ere the fond infatuated twain 
 Startled awake from sleepless dreams of joy 
 Wedlock has bound them with its clanking chains, 
 Then, when reality stares them in the face. 
 And common imperfections they behold, 
 The short-lived spells that lured them for a time 
 Are broken all ! Attraction vanishes — 
 And in the void left by each heart's recoil 
 Grim Folly sits and reigns in Reason's stead ! 
 Then is invoked the home's most deadly foe, 
 Accursed Eeproach — who with a grin of scorn. 
 Stirs up the venom of each bursting heart. 
 And tramples o'er the cherished blooms of life ! 
 Last comes Indi£ference, who, with icy breath. 
 Inbreathes a bitter coldness to their hearts, 
 And leaves their home a scene of desolation ! 
 
WEDLOCK. 57 
 
 ARTHUK. 
 
 Bravo ! I vow your vivid fancy draws 
 
 A picture worthy of some tragic play, 
 
 And needing only verity to give 
 
 That human interest which invites success: 
 
 For, mark, you hold that all love passion is. 
 
 And here the ancient slander reassert 
 
 That love is blind. — Away with such a claim ! 
 
 Its plagued inventors, to their lasting shame, 
 
 On woman looked as but a soulless slave 
 
 That ministered to the pleasures of an hour. 
 
 How stand their sons to-day? Look where the 
 
 gloom 
 Of enervating passion still endures, 
 And trace their weakly strugglings to the light, 
 Beneath the load of that inheritance ! — 
 O Frederick ! let us prove that love can see 
 The virtues fair that form its lasting bonds. 
 And know that woman's greater charms are those 
 Which in the air of freedom springing forth 
 Make her the guardian angel of the world ! 
 
 FREDEEIOK. 
 
 Come, come, now Arthur, while you freely charge 
 
 That I have over-drawn in showing forth 
 
 The dark shades that are seen and whispered of, 
 
58 WEDLOCK 
 
 Tou oyer step the bounds the other way; 
 For, from the bright horizon of your home 
 There comes forth warming beams to move your 
 
 mind, 
 And all the Sex, tranfigured in the glow, 
 Gleam with the borrowed lustre of your joy. 
 In truth within my brief experience. 
 With women bright as sunbeams I have met, 
 Only to find them baneful as the ray 
 That, in the South-land, scorches while it smiles! 
 You've seen a fortress with bright banners raised, 
 High up on useless bvilwarks, full in sight, 
 "Which lured the dupe, from some more worthy 
 
 prize, 
 To dally in its fruitless vicinage; 
 You've seen the gates that stood in seeming 
 
 strength, 
 Drop from their gilded hinges at his touch. 
 And bear him down a victim of deceit ? 
 
 ARTHUR. 
 
 Yes, I have seen it all — you truly paint 
 The end of dark deceit's engenderings — 
 You ably prove that he's most easily caught 
 Who is himself in close pursuit of prey ! 
 
WEDLOCK. 59 
 
 FEEDERICK. 
 
 Wait, wait ! You judge me wrongly ! I will make 
 My argument so plain that e'en a cliild 
 Could, if 't were willing, easily understand: 
 I claim that those high virtues you extol, 
 If they exist upon this hollow earth. 
 Vain fashion with its gaudy mask conceals. 
 For in their little round of shallow show 
 Alike the true and false and pure and vile 
 Move masquerading onward ceaselessly. — 
 Now, if you have a gift to read strange hearts. 
 And no mere chance has brought you your success. 
 Tell me the secret — will you — that I too 
 May choose aright and thus be blessed like you ? 
 
 ARTHUK, 
 
 Frederick, seriously, I'll tell you all 
 
 That any man need do to safely guide 
 
 His longing heart to Wedlock's sacred shrine: 
 
 The gift of sight he first must calmly use, 
 
 While pondering well the path ere he proceed; 
 
 Which done he need not fear that empty show. 
 
 That doth obtrude itself but to deceive. 
 
 Can ever hold his hands before his eyes. 
 
 He who would wed should well respect himself. 
 
 Then seek the maid he deems his truest friend, 
 
60 WEDLOCK. 
 
 And mutual love will sweetly bloom serene 
 From the pure warmth of friendship's fullness 
 
 sprung; 
 And, if in soil of real manliness 
 Her love has life, 'twill live through every storm ! 
 
 FBEDEEICK. 
 
 (After a pause, taking Arthur's 
 hand. 
 Arthur, though unconvinced by your defence. 
 Your honest words crowd in upon my mind 
 Thoughts like a tide from seas yet unexplored; 
 And now I'll venture out beyond the shoals. 
 And sound, with more of hope than fear, the 
 
 depths 
 Then if I find the pearl I see in dreams 
 I'll wear it here — upon my heart for life. 
 
TEE ANQEL'S SOLILOQUY. 61 
 
 THE ANGEL'S SOLILOQUY. 
 
 Earth's lightnings and her thunders, playing free, 
 
 Make her poor mortals tremble on their globe. 
 
 But if their planet's vapers they could probe, 
 
 Or here in the illumined Zenith be, 
 
 It 
 Oh what a bright contrasting peace they'd see: 
 
 No air to stir — no cloud to damp the robe 
 
 That holds by viewless strands each pendant lobe 
 
 Swung by Almighty hand eternally. 
 
 Then might they fix their hearts in trust above, 
 With Faith's sweet spirit exorcising fear, 
 
 Keposing in the One who can remove 
 The fretful exhalations of their sphere; 
 
 And free their eager souls, instinct with love. 
 From clogs of earth: making their vision clear. 
 
62 GUARD WELL. 
 
 GUARD WELL! 
 
 Guard well our little girls and boys ! 
 
 Let no dark sorrow's traces 
 
 Cloud their bright beaming faces, 
 O let them lauglr amid their toys ! 
 O let them breath youth's purest joys, 
 
 Cheered by our fond embraces ! 
 Give them the wealth no moth destroys, 
 
 Before they fill our places ! 
 
 Then when our time has come to go 
 
 We'll hold no bitter feeling, 
 
 But bless them, by us kneeling, 
 And die in peace, content to know 
 Our tended plants will upright grow. 
 
 No canker-worm concealing; 
 That, reared by love, they'll bud and blow, 
 
 In time love's fruits revealing. 
 
TEE BIGH MAN'S BREAM. 63 
 
 THE KICK MAN'S DEEAM. 
 
 One evening as I sat, filed with the cares 
 
 Entailed by even prosperous ajffairSj 
 
 I leaned upon my box of bonds and mused, 
 
 I thought " We millionaires are much ill-used, 
 
 What tedious labor this for me to do; 
 
 To cut off coupons every time they're due !" 
 
 But then I thought, " My work is not so bad, 
 
 To take my place how many would be glad ? 
 
 Imagining that they would happier be 
 
 Commanding wealth and hosts of friends like me." 
 
 I felt a drowsy feeling o'er me creep, 
 
 I bent down o'er my bonds and feU asleep: 
 
 I dreamed that I was poor; that aU had gone 
 
 Which I'd possessed. Deserted and alone, 
 
 I lay stretched sick in some dark wretched place, 
 
 While by my side I saw no kindly face, 
 
 Vanished were the friends that I'd possessed 
 
 Not one of all the host had stood the test — 
 
 Surrounding squallor mocked my former state 
 
 I groaned the victim of a cruel fate 
 
 " O God !" I cried, " is there no succor nigh I 
 
 am I left unthought of here to die ! 
 
64 THE RICH MAN'S DEEAM. 
 
 See how the world, now that my wealth has gone, 
 Neglects and spurns the hand it fawned upon !" 
 E'en as I groaned a radiance warm and bright 
 Dispelled the darkness of my vision's night 
 A fair form rose before my raptured view, 
 And sweetly smiling, said, " I'U succor you !" 
 " Fair Maiden, who art thou ?" entranced I cried, 
 " Who like an angel seeks my poor bed-side ?" 
 She said, " Speak not — ^be patient and I'll raise 
 You from your woe to yet see happy days ! — 
 You'll know me by the acts I do, alone f 
 She touched my burning eye-lids and was gone — 
 But Oh ! the gentle touch of her soft hand 
 Ope'd to my soul the portals of her land, 
 And there I saw wrecks, hke myself, that lay 
 Cared for by ministering- virgins night and day, 
 Who, tireless, gave to them, without a sigh. 
 Strength yet to live, or hope with which to die; 
 And over all, on noiseless wings and slow. 
 The angel moved who raised me from my woe — 
 " Fair form !" I cried, " I know, now, whom thou 
 
 art! 
 Bright Charity ! sent down to warm the heart ! 
 I see — ^I see the land wherein you reign — 
 The ceaseless efforts made to ease all pain I 
 I see the ones made sacred by your hand 
 
THE RICH MAN'S DREAM. 65 
 
 Bring peace and sweet good-will where e'er they 
 stand ! 
 
 Charity, thrice blessed ! I'll ne'er again 
 
 Of God's bright world in bitterness complain; 
 For, though deserted by each hollow friend, 
 Your sisters will sustain me to the end ! 
 Through you, by faith, earth's light and heaven's 
 
 blend !" 
 She vanished with a smile upon her face 
 That cheered as with bright sunshine all the place. 
 With eyes yet dazzled by her parting beam, 
 
 1 woke from sleep to find it all a dream; 
 
 I looked upon my wealth whose charm had fled, 
 I thought upon my warning dream, and said: 
 " Such wealth I cannot take beyond the grave; 
 I'll spend it in good worka thus all I'll save, 
 And tranquilly I'll journey down life's hiU, 
 And when I die, O, I'll have riches still !" 
 
66 SAINT JOHN'S ALTAR-CLOTH. 
 
 SAINT JOHN'S ALTAE-CLOTH. 
 
 Look back througli years and years and see the 
 light 
 Forming a radiant halo in the gloom — 
 There in the midst, within her humble room, 
 
 A pale young maiden works, throughout the night, 
 
 Upon a shining fabric snowy-white. 
 
 Seeks she to deck earth's beauty ? Does she toil, 
 And give her strength, to gain a worldly dole ? 
 
 Ah, no ! she meekly burns the mid-night oil. 
 And yields her life in labor for her soul. 
 
 And now they come to ask her why she stays 
 To toil, while other toilers close their eyes. — 
 
 Behold? the cloth she 'broiders meets their gaze; 
 They see, beneath her touch, the flowers that 
 
 rise 
 Up from its snow, and stand in mute surprise. 
 
 Ah ! but she marks each anxious look, each sigh: 
 She feels the shadow of their fearfvd thought, 
 
SAINT JOHN'S ALTAE-CLOTK 67 
 
 And cries, " 0, let me work with sleepless eye ! 
 This altar-cloth by my weak hand is wrought 
 But for the glory of our Lord on high — 
 O let me end my task before I die I 
 
 In silence and in tears, they turn away, 
 
 And leave her there alone to labor on; 
 But, O, at last there comes for them the day 
 They've waited, and they see their loved-one's clay 
 At rest and tranquil; all her work is done — 
 Her soul exaulting from the earth has flown. 
 
 Still decks the altar of her love so fair, 
 That holy cloth she 'br older ed long ago, 
 When days of joy reflect an added glow 
 
 On souls who wait in true devotion there. 
 
 O Faithful Souls, when you behold it shine, 
 As sunbeams stooping linger while they move 
 
 Across its gathered flowers and branching vine, 
 O say a prayer for her, who filled with love. 
 
 Wrought, with her dying hand, its pure design I 
 
68 SAVIOUR THRO' THE VALLEY GUIDE ME. 
 
 SAVIOUR THROUGH THE VALLEY 
 GUIDE ME. 
 
 Saviour, through the valley guide me, 
 
 Upward from the clouds of night ! 
 Saviour, darkness -cannot hide Thee; 
 
 I behold Thy beacon light, 
 Saviour, ties of Earth, so galling, 
 
 Hold me down, away from Thee, 
 Saviour, Saviour, hear me calling ! 
 
 Come, O come and set me free I 
 
 Saviour, full of hope I'm kneeling, 
 
 Vii^aiting for Thy tender call; 
 Trusting in Thy word revealing 
 
 Love undying for us all; 
 O Thy light, upon us falling, 
 
 Warms our souls with love for Thee: 
 Saviour, O, I hear Thee calling I 
 
 Thou art come to set me free ! 
 
TEE LAMP OF TBUTH. 69 
 
 THE LAMP OP TEUTH. 
 
 Trutli onward moves, witli ever-open eyes, 
 And flashes still her lamp through pagan night, 
 Though some, who read not her fair name aright, 
 
 Would bar her way with sordid enterprise : 
 
 She bids cowed men from prone inertness rise; 
 And guided from their slavery, by her light, 
 They see the confines of their clouds grow bright, 
 
 Through the torn veils of their idolatries. 
 
 Yet will they turn back wonderingly and gaze 
 Upon their fallen gods, no more sustained. 
 And marvel at the strangely erring ways 
 
 Their groping souls had wandered, um^estrained; 
 Then up from earth their new-taught eyes they'll 
 raise. 
 And pray to hold the light their souls have 
 gained. 
 
70 Mr LOVELY LITTLE DEARS. 
 
 MY LOVELY LITTLE DEAES ! 
 
 A LITTLE KHYME FOR LITTLE GIKLS. 
 
 O little, lively, laughing girls, 
 
 You're lovely little dears ! 
 But, all ! you \vag your little tongues 
 
 Too much for tender years; 
 Now if you'd try to keep them still, 
 
 And use your eyes and ears, 
 Like flowers you'd grow in beauty, 
 
 My lovely little Dears ! 
 
 Your tongues, I know, are less to blame ^ 
 
 Than your red, roguish, lips, 
 O Darlings ! if you kept them closed, 
 
 Your tongues could make no slips ! 
 O Darlings ! if you kept them closed. 
 
 We'd laugh at all our fears, 
 And draw you closer to our hearts, 
 
 My lovely little Dears ! 
 
 Take heed ! Take heed ! and with all speed 
 Try now to make amends, 
 
MY LOVELY LITTLE DEABS. 71 
 
 For if you cannot hold your tongues, 
 
 You cannot hold your friends ! 
 For if you cannot hold your tongues, 
 
 Your tongues will bring you tears ! 
 Think on, remember, what I say, 
 And you'll be glad some future day, 
 
 My lovely little Dears ! 
 
72 THE MES8ENQEB OF PEACE. 
 
 A MESSENGER OF PEACE. 
 
 A lioly place was thronged, the word to hear, 
 Listeners, by Faith, were drawn from far and near; 
 A zealous humble man, upon whose face 
 No wasting passion could its language trace, 
 Eose up, a fitting messenger of peace 
 To hearts that from their bondage sought release, 
 And with the Spirit's gift he touched the chord 
 Of human feeling, Yes, he freely poured 
 The treasures of a mind endowed for good, 
 So clear, so bright, that none misunderstood; 
 He said, " By Penance purified we'll stand, 
 Then Christ will place the olive in our hand — 
 His saying grace wiU guide from paths of woe 
 Our straying souls — Our deeds done here below 
 Form the highway on which our souls will go. 
 Remember ! O ye men, bound by the chains 
 Of evil deeds, use well what time remains ! 
 Change now your course ! Break now your bonds 
 
 away, 
 And now accept forgiveness while you may ! 
 For, in the hour when we must give up all. 
 Will Heaven heed our sudden selfish call ? 
 
THE MESSENGER OF PEACE. 73 
 
 Can true repentance actuate tlie cry 
 
 That comes not forth till death's dark form is 
 
 nigh? 
 Can man on earth ill-use his lengthened days 
 To cheat the world, in dark and devious ways. 
 And at the last, who never worked for grace, 
 By one act, all his evil acts efface ? 
 Oh, can he then, when death's dark Angel calls 
 Leap the black gulf and clutch the jasper walls ? 
 Ah ! mayhap then his deeds, with deadly weight, 
 Will bear him short and sink him to his fate ! 
 Unless he meets our suffering Saviour's eyes. 
 And like the Thief gains mercy ere he dies — 
 Ah ! slender hope for us if sorrow's tears 
 Come not ere bursts the fountain of our fears ! 
 Remember ! ye men, bound by the chains 
 Of evil deeds, well what time remains ! 
 Change now your course ! Break now your bonds 
 
 away. 
 And now accept forgiveness, while you may !" 
 
 He blessed them all, and when they turned, and 
 
 sought 
 Their homes, they felt he'd touched their inmost 
 
 thought — 
 Their loads were lightened by the lesson taught. 
 
74 
 
 TEE MESSENGER OF PEACE. 
 
 Alone the preacher prayed when all had gone: 
 " O God ! sustain me tiU my work is done ! 
 O save me from the ills I bid them shun ! — 
 Give them the thought to pray — to pray for me 
 For grace to strive — for light thy face to see !" 
 
 He bowed his head — there came a holy calm, 
 As if his soul were touched with healing balm — 
 Behold ! while other laborers repose, 
 Aloft unspoken — prayer's sweet incense goes 
 From meditation's doors that silently unclose. 
 
CL UDS ABE BUT VAP OR. 75 
 
 CLOUDS AEE BUT VAPOR. 
 
 They say that our life's but a long scene of woe; 
 
 A storm, through which sunlight but seldom can 
 glow. 
 
 Can they tell ? Do they know ? 
 Perhaps so. 
 
 But then should we murmur or uselessly pine ? 
 
 Not at all ? Let us hail the bright beams while 
 they shine 
 
 Let us laugh in the rays which with life inter- 
 twine ! 
 
 But the storm ? What of that ? Why, we must 
 all eat 
 Both the bitter and the sweet, 
 Be bright in the light, 
 But prepare for the night ! 
 And the storm's sable form, rolling on to dismay, 
 
 We can face, we can say 
 These clouds are but vapor: they'll soon pass 
 away! 
 
76 BRITANNIA AND ERIN. 
 
 BEITANNIA AND EEIN. 
 
 Grand were the Sisters in the glorious past ! 
 Fair Erin, strong Britannia, equal born, 
 Endowed by Nature's hand to exercise 
 The sovereign functions of maternal love: 
 In peace to nurture, and protect from harm, 
 The loving children breathing on their breasts. 
 But now the stronger sister of the twain 
 Her bosom binds in iron, and withholds 
 From her own children all that's rightly theirs, 
 To feed them, on the wrestled spoils of power. 
 See how, with greed unnatural, she strikes 
 Her sister down, and on her bids them prey ! 
 men, look on the cruel sister now ! 
 While she in strength and beauty smiles on you, 
 Mark how, with all her might, she presses down 
 Her brazen shield on Erin's teeming breast ! 
 See how her mailed hand doth cast aside 
 Each struggling child of Erin, as it strives 
 To raise, in search for food, the massy weight ! 
 O Sympathizing World, cry out for shame! 
 For shame for her who holds her sister down, 
 And smiles above her children's agony ! 
 
BRITANNIA AND EBIN. 77 
 
 Bid her release her galling hold in time, 
 For yet e'en tardy justice may absolve; 
 Ere the deep murmurs of awakened wrath, 
 That rise above her victim's hunger-cry, 
 Swell to the tones of thunder in her ears ! 
 Bid her beware, or wrong may come to hers, 
 For desperation acts without a fear, 
 And dark despair may strike when justice fails? 
 Bid her beware, for now poor Erin moves. 
 And from the womb of eflfort hope is born ! 
 Hope to sustain in peace, and save from harm, 
 The loving children nurtured on her breast. 
 
78 EEB0E8 OF TEE SHORE 
 
 HEEOES OF THE SHOKE. 
 
 Alone the coast-guard moves upon his beat, 
 
 Where the mad ocean leaps against the land, 
 With steady sleepless eye and weary feet. 
 
 Through the wild, bitter night, along the strand, 
 He pauses — Ah ! a light — a vessel's light 
 
 Is rising — falling with the angry waves — 
 O must the awful tempest, in its might. 
 
 Hurl fellow-creatures helpless to their graves I 
 
 Red gleams his reaching signal through the 
 dark: — 
 Beware ! Beware the perils of the shore ! 
 Too late ! the helm is gone — the fated bark 
 
 Strikes on the shoals — the waters o'er her pour! 
 Q sleepers waken to the fearful cry. 
 That now comes speeding landward through the 
 gale! 
 Haste, Noble Coast-guard ! Haste — for succor 
 fly! 
 AU — all are doomed to perish if you fail ! 
 
HEROES OF TEE SHOBE. 79 
 
 Swift come tlie men roused "by tlie breathless call: 
 
 Out o'er the wreck their saving line they send, — 
 Ah ! Women — children ! See ! they rescue aU ! — 
 
 Safe ! safe on shore where kindly arms extend ! 
 Honor the coast-guard for true victories gained ! 
 
 Kaise the glad voice of Joy — the song of Praise ! 
 Let Gratitude and Justice, unrestrained. 
 
 Give to these aging men some sunny days. 
 
80 CAST NOT DOUBTS! 
 
 CAST NOT DOUBTS! 
 
 The vain believer oft affects to doubt 
 
 The word revealed to guide us o'er our span; 
 And further from the truth leads skeptic man, 
 
 To swell the volume of the scoffer's shout; 
 
 Then shrinks in fear from ills he's brought about; 
 Dreading the flame his pride has helped to fan. 
 He points too late to truth's undying plan, 
 
 And beckons back in vain to men who scout. 
 
 That man's more harmful than the open foe, 
 Who claiming common cause with truth and 
 right, 
 
 Yet ope's some postern in the wall below, 
 And lets in the besiegers in the night; 
 
 Perhaps, ere Mercy's hand can stay the blow, 
 Justice may to earth, the traitor, smite. 
 
HAPPY NmV YEAH! 81 
 
 HAPPY NEW YEAEI 
 
 " Happy New Year !" O happy sound, 
 
 When joy and gladness reign around, 
 
 WTien love and friendship blend to grace. 
 
 With sweet content, our dwelling-place. 
 
 When fairest future doth invite 
 
 Our footsteps on to prospects bright; 
 
 'Tis then the happy heart doth bound; 
 
 When life's in accord with the sound 
 
 Which on the glad New Year goes circling round! 
 
 But, Oh, when ills hang o'er our path. 
 And we're the sport of worldly wrath; 
 When want has crushed us to the ground 
 That greeting seems a smarting wound, 
 Given by those who never show 
 Their sympathy for human woe. 
 Oh if, where e'er our hand can reach. 
 We'd let the act precede the speech. 
 And doing all, within our power. 
 To end the troubles of the hour. 
 We could with joy^ — our duty clear. 
 Greet all with " Happy glad New Year !" 
 
82 A MEGHANIG IN DISGUISE. 
 
 A MECHANIC IN DISGUISE. 
 
 Let me tell you, I am a mecliaiiic, 
 
 But it can't be perceived by my style; 
 I'm living, in spite of the " panic," 
 
 Sustained by my hammer and file, 
 At evening I go for enjoyment, 
 
 To walk with the ladies awhile; 
 They think I have " genteel " employment, 
 
 And on me most sweetly they smile. 
 
 Some ladies, fastidious creatures 
 
 Meet clerks with delight in their eye. 
 But, a change soon comes over their features, 
 
 When a common mechanic comes by; 
 The cold stony stare of each dear one 
 
 Is then most amusing to see, — 
 So, boys, if you wish to shine near one. 
 
 Take pattern, my hearties, by me. 
 
 If they should find out what I am, sirs. 
 No more could I walk with the fair, 
 
 Each door in my face then would slam, sirs, 
 And I would be snubbed everywhere; 
 
A MEOHANIG IN DISGUISE. 
 
 83 
 
 So, now, to avoid such confusion, 
 
 And hold the sweet charm of my style, 
 
 I'll have to sustain the illusion, 
 Sustained by my hammer and file. 
 
84 LOVE'S SONG OF SORROW. 
 
 LOVE'S SONG OF SOEEOW. 
 
 My Clara — my love — my own. 
 
 Is torn, alas! from my side; 
 She's gone, and I'm left alone ! 
 
 While death claims my bonny bride. 
 I saw on her cheek of down 
 
 The sign of her cruel fate: 
 Would it had marked my own, 
 
 To be in death her mate ! 
 
 She's gone ! I'm alone — alone ! 
 
 Oh, gone is my sunny dream, 
 
 The light of my happy day; 
 She came like a warming beam, 
 
 And flitted like one away. 
 No more will her eyelids part, 
 
 To mirror her soul of love; 
 Ah ! pulseless the feeling heart I 
 
 Oh, naught can death's seal remove I 
 
 She's gone I Tm alone — alone ! 
 
THE FARMER'S NEW BUCKET. 85 
 
 THE FAEMER'S NEW BUCKET. 
 
 " There," said tlie farmer, with a look of pride, 
 
 As by the well he stood, his wife beside, 
 
 " My job is done, an' I am mighty glad — 
 
 That bucket is the best we've ever had. 
 
 See, Nancy, I have let it down the well 
 
 To soak; new buckets always leak a speU, 
 
 Now, when you draw, don't let it flop about, 
 
 For that's what always busts the bottoms out," 
 
 Then Nancy said, " I won't if you'll agree 
 
 To foUow the example set by me ?" 
 
 She laughed and left him by the well alone, 
 
 " The last word's always her'&I might have known," 
 
 He said, " But then, she spoke some truth I'll own,'' 
 
 Just then a neighbor passed along the road, 
 
 With wagon groaning 'neath its heavy load. 
 
 He hailed him, "Say, I'll hold yer horse while you 
 
 Step down to see a good thing — something new — 
 
 I've got the latest patent bucket out; 
 
 Something I'd no longer do without, — 
 
 Come on ? You'U understand it like a book — 
 
 It's down the well just go an' take a look ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," the neighbor said, " when I get through 
 
86 THE FARMERS NEW BUCKET. 
 
 I'll stop, but now I've got my work to do." 
 But still, to press, the farmer did not cease 
 Till his friend yielded for the sake of peace. 
 Unto the well he then was quick to go; 
 He stooped to see the bucket down below 
 " Haul it up," he heard the other shout, 
 " Take care, now ! Don't wabble it about !" 
 As he was told, the poor man tried to do, 
 But slipped, and quickly disappeared from view; 
 The farmer heard him shouting as he fell, 
 And running over saw him down the well; 
 Anxious he cried : " Say did you kick the bucket 
 When you fell in ? I think you kind o' struck it/' 
 The neighbor in the well quite angry grew, 
 And cried, " If I get out, sir, I'll kick you !" 
 The farmer, thus, his folly, made to see. 
 Said, "Well, I think it would be good for me; 
 For draggin' you from where your labor led 
 To see a bucket empty as my head !" 
 The neighbor to the rope himseK soon tied, 
 The farmer hauled — they soon stood side by side. 
 They both looked to the rope, only to see 
 Two staves, a hoop and handle swinging free 
 The ruins of " the latest bucket out," 
 Thus swayed and dangled uselessly about. 
 The farmer said, " For being over-vain 
 I've learnt a lesson an' I won't complain." 
 
THE FARMERS NEW BUCKET. 87 
 
 " And BO have I," the other said, " My Mend, 
 I turned from business fearing to offend. 
 But my sore bones, wet clothes and aching head, 
 Have taught me what I should have done instead. 
 To keep straight on in duty's well-marked way, 
 And stand no fooling on a busy day. 
 
A FISH STORY. 
 
 A FISH STOKY. 
 
 Up from the sea, a peasant came, 
 
 To where his native village lay, 
 Said he, " I'll make them all believe 
 
 I've seen a wondrous iish to-day." 
 He reached at length a single street 
 
 That through the little hamlet ran; 
 The lying tale he'd coined he told 
 
 To every passing country-man. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " upon the beach. 
 
 Just round the bend, towards the South, 
 The waves have cast a monstrous fish, 
 
 Which, stranded, lies with gaping mouth; 
 Oh, if you saw it squirm and twist, 
 
 And with its huge taU lash the ground I 
 Then raise its horned head in the air, 
 
 As high as any house around 1" 
 
 Thus he deceived their simple minds, 
 Brought up in ignorance of lies. 
 
 And his perverted heart enjoyed 
 Their looks of innocent surprise. 
 
A FISH 8 TOBY, 89 
 
 He reached his home, partook of food 
 
 And rested; but his wife's quick eye 
 Saw something strange. She turned and said, 
 
 " What means the many passers-by ?" 
 Then up he jumped— ran to the porch; 
 
 The street with villagers was swarmed, 
 All hasting on towards the shore, 
 
 And all with pikes or axes armed. 
 
 Wondering, he saw them hurry past: 
 
 " Say ! what's the matter, friends ?" he cried. 
 
 They answered, " Come and help us catch 
 The big fish stranded by the tide ?" 
 
 He stood and thought, while busy feet 
 Still hurried onward by his door; 
 
 Again he questioned passers-by. 
 They answered Uke the ones before. 
 
 " Why, that is very strange !" he said, 
 
 "I thought my story was a lie; 
 It must be true !" He seized his axe. 
 
 And joined the crowds that hurried by. 
 
 They reached the shore — no fish was seen — 
 Enraged at being thus deceived, 
 
90 A FISH STORY. 
 
 The author of the lying tale, 
 
 Into the waves they quickly heaved. 
 
 Each time that he would swim to land, 
 They'd throw him in the tide once more, 
 
 And cry, " Now find your monstrous fish 
 And bring it quickly to the shore ?" 
 
 He thought, to drown him they desired, 
 And screaming out with might and main, 
 
 He cried, I'll always speak the truth ! 
 I'll never tell a lie again !" 
 
 When, for the fib that fooled them allj 
 They thought they'd punished him enough, 
 
 Upon the shore, they let him crawl. 
 
 More scared than hurt by usage rough; 
 
 Then 'mid their jeers, for home he ran, 
 A sadder and wiser man. 
 
HANCOCK AT GETTYSBURG. 91 
 
 HANCOCK AT GETTYSBURG. 
 
 Dark was the day when fratricidal hand 
 Was raised to sever our united land; 
 When bold rebellion, in her strongest hour, 
 Pushed on to realize her dream of power; 
 When those who ruled were bound by Faction's 
 
 chain; 
 Procrastination granting power and gain 
 To men who from pierced hearts their prize would 
 
 wrest; 
 Crushing the nation's hopes, by war oppressed; 
 And rendering all our warriors' yalor vain. 
 The foe, then deeming all our vigor gone, 
 Moved from the South his eager columns on. 
 O'er Maryland's fair hiUs their cry resounds; 
 A note of danger through the nation sounds — 
 Then woke the North — the West ! Hark to the 
 
 call! 
 State vies with State — one purpose moving all! 
 While Faction trembling, now that danger's near, 
 Aids from its gorged purse and hides in fear. 
 
92 HANCOCK AT OETTYSBUEQ. 
 
 Behold liow freeman gather in their might ! 
 Party is merged in duty for the Eight ! 
 O'er Pennsylvania's hills they rear a wall 
 On which the Union now must stand or fall ! 
 Are they too late ? See how the rebels swarm 
 The hiUs and vales, and pour their deadly storm ? 
 At Gettysburg brave Meade holds them at bay, 
 Till dawns the third and the decisive day; 
 Victory to-night will crown the blue or gray. 
 See ! even now the rebel hosts prepare 
 For their last mighty charge ; while through the 
 
 air; 
 Two hundred guns, supporting, send their balls 
 Across the field, — a nameless dread appalls 
 Our men, who stand where sternest duty calls. 
 On to the front ! Who goes ? The hope of Meade ! 
 On to the front ! 'Tis Hancock on his steed ! 
 See how he rides, erect, where danger lowers, 
 While through the quivering line the death-hail 
 
 pours — 
 Hark ! o'er the thunders — Hark ! a glorious shout ! 
 He holds the ebbing tide — he stays the rout ! 
 See ! see ! along the line their souls are flame ; 
 They meet their leader's eye — they shotit his 
 
 name : 
 
 " Hancock ! Our Hancock leads 1 Lead on ! they 
 cry, 
 
HANCOCK AT QETTT8BUBQ. 93 
 
 Touched by heroic fire they swear to win or die ! 
 
 He gives the word^ — See ! like a solid mass, 
 
 The long line foUows o'er the blood-stained grass — 
 
 On mid the awful storm of shot and shell, 
 
 They never swerve but move as by a spell ! 
 
 Ah! carnage swoops — The field is strewn with 
 
 slain, 
 But living heroes fiU the gaps again. 
 And fearlessly the glorious charge sustain ! 
 What now ? The rebel guns have ceased to roar ? — ■ 
 Look ! — from the wood the veteran f oemen pour ? — 
 Close — close they come — a shower of leaden haU 
 Eends their grey front — Ah! See— they pause — 
 
 they quail ! 
 Now Hancock's men pour o'er them like a tide. 
 Which bears them, broken, backward far and wide. 
 The cry of victory drowns the dying groan. 
 The foe is crushed ! the bloody field's our own 1 
 
 But see ? Oui- Hero, Hancock there doth bleed ! 
 Must he now die ? No, No ! 'tis not decreed ! 
 He lives ! He lives ! to meet his country's need ! — 
 In war a hero, and in peace a sage. 
 Thus will his name appear on history's page ! 
 
94 MECHANICAL EDUCATION. 
 
 MECHANICAL EDUCATION. 
 
 A journeyman whose work was nice, 
 
 Be it on planer, lathe or vise. 
 
 Well used to standard rules and guages, 
 
 And always sure to earn liis wages. 
 
 Was thrown, by reason of the "panic," 
 
 From work, like many a good mechanic. 
 
 But not content to sit and wait 
 
 For those who shape the worker's fate. 
 
 Bid kind good-bye to friend and neighbor, 
 
 And sought for other fields of labor. 
 
 His travels soon came to a stop, 
 
 He got work in a jobbing shop. 
 
 Owned by one who tried to do 
 
 Clerk's work, be "boss " and draftsman too; 
 
 Who, in a free-and-easy way, 
 
 Ran the concern from day to day. 
 
 " This is the first job you may do, 
 
 He said, " Now, make it pretty true, 
 
 For its the plunger of a pump, 
 
 Turn it, in size, two inches plump." 
 
MECHANICAL EDUCATION. 95 
 
 The man replied, " My rule contains 
 
 No 'plumps,' its maker, lacking brains, 
 
 Made every inch just standard size ; 
 
 He'd put on 'plumps ' if he'd been wise; — 
 
 To do the job exact and true. 
 
 Lend me your rule to help me through ?" 
 
 The wondering owner, thus rebuked, 
 
 With anger on the workman looked — 
 
 Junctures critical have all, 
 
 When self-restraint prevents a fall — • 
 
 Now, he soon proved that he had sense, 
 
 And knew that rage entails expense, 
 
 And that we may, if we keep cool. 
 
 Be taught each day as in a school; 
 
 He did not fume nor stamp the floor, 
 
 Nor show the journeyman the door — 
 
 No, No ! He said, " Your words I'll heed, — 
 
 I think you're just the man I need ! 
 
 Tour wit, sarcastic and ironic. 
 
 Cures slipshod negligence grown chronic. 
 
 I'll give you charge here from to-day; 
 
 WiU you accept ? Now tell me ? Say ?" 
 
 The workman said, " I will agree. 
 
 If all details are left to me. 
 
 Unhampered then, alone, you can 
 
 Shape and survey the general plan." " 
 
96 MECHANICAL EDUCATION. 
 
 " All ! that's the thing !" the owner said, 
 
 " Yes, take right hold, and go ahead; 
 
 Be-organize the whole concern, 
 
 It needs it every side you turn. 
 
 And if you see me play the fool, 
 
 Just bring me too to the standard rule !" 
 
 " All right I'll do just what you say," 
 
 The other answered, " and each day, 
 
 Avoiding undue jar or strain. 
 
 By gentle steps perfection gain." 
 
 Light thus shines from darkest " panics " 
 To spread the knowledge of Mechanics. — 
 Ill-winds, that to unrest give birth, 
 Strew seeds of progress o'er the earth. 
 
WAIL OF A TIMID VICTIM. 97 
 
 WAIL OF A TIMID VICTIM. 
 
 Timid Victim, (with infant in arms.) 
 
 When I was a lad 
 
 My sweet-hearts were plenty, 
 But, alas ! 'twas too bad ! 
 
 I got married at twenty; 
 I was thus early caught 
 
 But my wife, then so charming, 
 That my pleasure was short; 
 
 Oh, my peace she is harming ! 
 She's changed, and I'm brought 
 
 To a state quite alarming ! 
 
 You see me, to-day, 
 
 A poor object of pity; 
 If I had n't to stay, 
 
 0, I'd fly from the city; 
 But, Oh, I am tied 
 
 To the string of her apron ! 
 My once slender bride, 
 
 With fingers so taperin',. 
 
98 WAIL OF A TIMID VICTIM. 
 
 Holds me to lier side, 
 
 And stops all my caperin'. 
 
 She has a big stick, 
 
 And it's used on me often; 
 I wish for death quick, 
 
 For repose in my coffin ! 
 Her tongue, at each spat. 
 
 Fails never to lash me; 
 And you know, besides that, 
 
 She continues to thrash me; 
 And seems to grow fat 
 
 In her efforts to smash me I 
 
 She's just sent me out 
 
 The baby to carry, — 
 Oh! I'd like to shout: — 
 
 Young men don't you marry !- 
 Oh ! she's looking to see 
 
 If I am behaving ! 
 Hush a ba, ba, ba, be !— 
 
 Oh ! she'll set me raving ! 
 Take warning by me, 
 
 And avoid all my slaving ! 
 
WAIL OF A TIMID VICTIM. 
 
 99 
 
 Oh ! what will I do ! — 
 
 Don't — don't cry, my darling I 
 
 Your papa loves you — 
 
 Ah I child, stop your snarling ! 
 
 {Exit Timid Yictim.) 
 
100 LEGAL LAPSES. 
 
 LEGAL LAPSES. 
 
 What are these ? Ah, your papers. A lawyer at 
 
 last! 
 Good ! give us your hand boy ! My fears are all 
 
 past — 
 I'm proud of you, Charley! While other boys 
 
 fooled, 
 You stuck to your books, till your mind was well 
 
 schooled. 
 Come, here is a check, boy — on my account draw. 
 Though your uncle by blood, we're now brothers- 
 in-law — 
 Here, take it — No airs, now ! Just make a good 
 
 start. 
 You've touched a soft spot in the old lawyer's 
 
 heart ! 
 Be honest — No winking — and true to your word ! — 
 Wait, I'll tell you a story you never have heard — 
 There's a moral attached, so it won't seem 
 
 absurd: — 
 A Lawyer, once, given to drinking too free. 
 
LEGAL LAPSES. 101 
 
 Broke out beyond bounds and went off on a 
 
 spree, 
 (With lawyers a fault strangely rare you'll agree 
 Though we all plead at bars just as earnest as he.) 
 In his stead, trusting chents, who wait, only see 
 In his office, a card: "I'll be back just at three;" 
 While he on his rounds, full of liquor and sport. 
 Decides to slip up for awhile into Court. 
 O fatal decision ! with staggering gait, 
 He mounts the broad steps and approaches his fate. 
 His head is held high, as if owning the place. 
 But his knees give the lie to his firmness of face. 
 The Judge on the bench with an eye like a hawk. 
 Observed his flushed face and his staggering walk: 
 While our hero slipt up, and came down on the toes 
 Of the fat County Clerk, in the midst of a doze; 
 The hangers-on laughed as enraged he arose. 
 Cried the Judge, on his dignity, gavel upraised, 
 " Advance to the bench, sir, I'm really amazed !" 
 Our hero walked up with a grin on his face. 
 Saying: " Judge, just speak out what you think of 
 
 my case ? 
 " My opinion is," cried the Judge with a frown, 
 " That your drunk ! and to ruin are fast slipping 
 
 down ! 
 
 To walk into Court, before our face, 
 A lawyer in liquor — O, what a disgrace ! 
 
102 LEGAL LAPSES. 
 
 Not alone to yourself, but your children, your wife 
 And to all the profession ! — ^You lead a bad life !" 
 "Say Judge, in ten years that I've been here- 
 about, 
 That's the truest decision you ever gave out !" 
 Cried our hero, " And now I will here testify 
 That you've stated my case without one word of 
 
 lie— 
 I move a short recess ? I feel pretty dry !" 
 " No, No !" cried the Judge, " A lesson you need ! 
 You acknowledge you're drunk' so the law must 
 
 proceed ! 
 For, as you've confessed my decision aU right, 
 rU give you my sentence: The jail for to-night! — 
 Officer, take him, and lock him up tight !" 
 "I'U appeal, honored Judge!" cried the limb of 
 
 the law, 
 " In your sentence I hold there's a large legal 
 
 flaw 
 For the law can't convict on a drunken man's 
 
 word, 
 And yourself say I'm drunk, — so now Judge you 
 
 have erred." 
 The Judge by the plea for a moment was caught, 
 For just indignation prevented cool thought, 
 Loud laughs, ill-suppressed, broke the silence pro- 
 found, 
 
LEGAL LAPSES. 103 
 
 And grim grinning, lawyers were seen all around. 
 
 With well-balanced sternness at length the Judge 
 said, 
 
 " I'm shocked at the levity 'round me displayed !" 
 
 Then addressing the knave who had caused all 
 the fuss: 
 
 " You speak of your word: it has no weight with us. 
 
 To see that you're drunk, sir, no eye here can fail — 
 
 The Court saw your acts. Take him off to the jail!" 
 
 "Again I'll appeal," cried the staggering elf. 
 
 " 'Tis your honor who now is transgressing your- 
 self. 
 
 You are here to decide on what's brought to your 
 view, 
 
 And I, to be judged, not accursed, sir, by you ! 
 
 For the Law has no soul and Man is the loser 
 
 When a Judge plays the role of the vulgar accu- 
 ser!" 
 
 Cried the Judge : " Come, away with him quick to 
 his fate ! 
 
 Such contempt of the Court we'll not tolerate !" 
 
 " You're right, Judge, at last, that's just what I 
 feel. 
 
 My * contempt of the Court,' sir, I cannot con- 
 ceal!" 
 
 The officers seized him weU primed for the sport: 
 
104 LEGAL LAPSES. 
 
 He shook them both off and again faced the Court. 
 They followed him up, and, with resolute will. 
 Those officers struggled their task to fulfill. 
 And they found, ere they finished the laughable 
 
 tussle. 
 Though his mind had grown weak, that he'd plenty 
 
 of muscle. 
 They took him at length where he'd leisure to 
 
 think. 
 And where they give nothing but water to drink. 
 Now Charley, just pick out the moral and see — 
 What ? " Who was the lawyer that went on the 
 
 spree ?" 
 That's cheeky, you dog ! I would teach abstract 
 
 truth, 
 While you want the name of the sinner forsooth ! 
 "No, no, sir: — What — what's that? "No value 
 
 without?" 
 " A nameless citation the parent of doubt ?" 
 Well — let me see — Yes you are right, I must 
 
 say— 
 You laugh? Oh, I'll give you the name right 
 
 away. 
 Its one of your relatives — " That cannot be ?" 
 Yes it can — I'm the man, I went through that 
 
 spree! 
 
LEGAL LAPSES. 
 
 105 
 
 Take warning in time, boy ! Take warning by 
 
 me ! 
 If you dodge folly's dangers just think upon mine ! 
 There, Charley, that's all — You may order your 
 
 sign. 
 
106 LESSON OF THE BIRDS. 
 
 LESSON OF THE BIEDS. 
 
 Away with sadness ! See the birds of air — 
 Their chirrupings are heard, what e'er betide, 
 As through the glade, in search of food they 
 glide, 
 
 Content with aught that gives sustainment there; 
 
 Kaising no murmurs 'gainst their humble fare — 
 The rushing storm may scatter far and wide 
 Their ruined homes — their progeny divide, 
 
 And yet their instincts whisper not despair. 
 
 O let us take sweet comfort from the bird. 
 And hail the sun of seasons yet to be, 
 Singing a song of hope, in deed and word. 
 
 While walking bowed through deeps of misery; 
 
 And, by dark promptings from below unstirred. 
 Rise up, on wings, from earth, redeemed and 
 free. 
 
LITTLE PATSY, 107 
 
 LITTLE PATSY. 
 
 Years past, beside tlie waters of Passaic, 
 Beyond the cleft down which the torrents break, 
 There stood a cot, upon the rocky ledge 
 That rose unbroken from the river's edge, 
 Within its walls a laborer and wife, 
 With boy of ten, lived a contented life; 
 Their rocky space, topped with its scanty soil. 
 Was all their own, won by the sweat of toil. 
 Ah, but the happiest home that e'er was made, 
 Sickness with stealthy foot-step can invade. 
 The laborer saw his wife was growing pale. 
 And through the winter months he feared she'd 
 
 fail; 
 Upon the morn of Christmas Eve she lay 
 To weak to try the labors of the day; 
 She said, " Don't stay for me — I hear your bell — 
 Go, John, you'll lose your place — I'll soon be well." 
 " Yes, papa, you may go," their young boy cried, 
 "I'll help ma — I'U stay by her bed-side." 
 They looked upon their little boy with pride. 
 " WeU," said the father, " if, while I'm away, 
 You'll do your best, I'll think of you to-day," 
 
108 LITTLE PATSY. 
 
 " Oh, will you, pa ?" the boy's eyes gleamed with 
 light, 
 
 "I know — I know what you'll bring home to- 
 night ! 
 
 The fiddle for my Christmas, that can play ! — 
 
 To-morrow, ma, I'U make it go all day !" 
 
 When John had gone, his boy tried to perform 
 His duties well; he kept the cottage warm. 
 And to his mother simple stories told; 
 Thus striving, from her ills, her thoughts to hold. 
 And what the doctor gave to ease her pain, 
 His little hands administered, not in vain; 
 For she at mid-day rose, here pains were gone, 
 She sat and looked with pleasure at her son. 
 Who, fiUed with joj, skipped round the room, the 
 
 while 
 Performing tricks to make his mother smile; 
 He whispered in her ear, with young delight, 
 " Won't pa be glad when he gets home to-night ? 
 When he comes in we'll laugh to see him stare 
 With wonder when he sees you in your chair." 
 He paused; and listening to a sound without. 
 He heard his comrades give their well-known 
 
 shout. 
 And looking forth, saw each with his sled. 
 
LITTLE PATSY. 109 
 
 They beckoned, but he only shook his head: 
 His mother noting thus his strength of wiU, 
 Said, " Patsy, go out with them on the hill. " 
 I'd like to go," he said, " for it's just gay ! 
 But I told Pa I'd stay by you all day. " 
 " But, Patsy " said his mother with a smile, 
 " I'm not sick now, so you may play awhile. " 
 Then, taking up his sled and hasting out. 
 He joined his little friends with joyous shout; 
 Off to the coasting-hiU they gaUy go. 
 To skim like young birds downward o'er the snow. 
 The ailing mother tried, when he had gone. 
 Those tasks that wait for woman's hand alone. 
 And which, like rays of sun-light, never cease 
 To keep joy warmed within the heart of peace, 
 But now her work was more than she could do, 
 Sickness had made her weaker than she knew. 
 She turned and tried to reach her bed again, 
 But paused and tottered — yielded to the strain, 
 And falling to the floor unconscious lay 
 As if her spark of life had passed away. 
 
 John in his work-shop toiled with all his might. 
 To try and reach his home before the night ; 
 When he had finished, he went forth to buy, 
 As best he could, his little home-supply; 
 
110 LITTLE PATSY. 
 
 To cheer his wife a sweet surprise he planned, 
 
 By tokens that she'd easily understand, 
 
 And with his heart filled with a father's joy, 
 
 He bought the little fiddle for his boy; 
 
 Then, homeward trudging loaded through the 
 
 snow, 
 He thought how best his presents he'd bestow; 
 Saw visioned joys entwined like garlands sweet, 
 One added link the circlet would complete. 
 Thus, cheered by tranquil pictures of content, 
 He reached his home — in at the door he went — 
 He started back — his wife lay moveless there. 
 He sprang to aid — he called in his dispair, 
 O.Mary — Mary ! Speak to me, my wife ! 
 Help me, O God ! No sign — no sign of life; 
 Patsy ! Patsy ! Curse him ! has he gone, 
 And left his mother here to die alone !" 
 He took her in his arms — he thought her dead. 
 Kissed her cold lips and bore her to her bed. 
 He heard a voice — 't was Patsy who had come. 
 Filled with delight to find his father home; 
 The wild distracted man unto him turned: 
 And at the door his smiling boy he spurned: 
 He crushed the sled — ^he tore its rope away 
 And lashed the boy, who cried in his dismay: 
 " Oh, papa, papa, don't ! — It hurts me so ! 
 
LITTLE PATSY. Ill 
 
 I stayed — I stayed tiU mama let me go !" 
 
 " Ah, heartless, lying child ! So you would dare 
 
 To shame your Hfeless mother lying there !" 
 
 Poor Patsy's gift he shattered on the floor, 
 
 And madly drove him weeping from the door; 
 
 Then' bending o'er his wife, as still she lay, 
 
 Hope roUed the clouds of dark despair away. 
 
 Trembling, by the gate, he found his son: 
 
 " Now, boy, repair the harm that you have done, 
 
 Your mother breathes," he cried, " but cannot 
 
 move, 
 Down, for the doctor, run, your love to prove, 
 You know the place — ^you went there yesterday — 
 Quick, quick ! You'll suffer more if you delay !" 
 As flies the dove upon its message swift. 
 So sped the boy through blinding snow and drift. 
 Ere the fast-fading light of day had gone. 
 The north wind with the night came rushing on. 
 Yet, forward, struggling through the bitter blast 
 He reached the falls — safe o'er the basin passed, 
 And to the doctor, breathless, spoke at last. 
 " Here," said the doctor, " take this vial home, 
 'Twill aid your mother, boy, until I come. 
 Now, lose no time and take the shortest way. 
 I'll drive 'round by the old road on my sleigh." 
 Patsy again stepped out into the night; 
 
112 LITTLE PATSY. 
 
 Passed windows deckt with Christmas offerings 
 
 bright — 
 He saw them not ; nor paused in homeward flight. 
 Upward he went, the city gleamed behind, 
 "While on before, the road lay undefined; 
 And where it forms, on high, a reaching way 
 O'er sundered cliffs, 'neath which the waters play. 
 The storm's wild force had quenched each guid- 
 ing lamp; 
 Through the darMing drifts the boy was left to 
 
 tramp — 
 Turn Avith the road ! Turn quickly or you're gone ! 
 Bewildered by the gloom he struggled on: 
 Fell from the fenceless 'bankme-nt's lofty edge, 
 Down where careering ice — blocks pile and wedge ! 
 Crippled, he crept to mount the steep again. 
 Powerless he fell back, prostrate and in pain, 
 The cries for help, that mingled with his groans, 
 "Were smothered by the tempest's angry tones. 
 
 Mean-while the doctor hastened to fulfill 
 
 His duty at the cottage on the hill; 
 
 The waiting husband saw he was alone; 
 
 " Doctor," he said, " my son ? — where is my son ?" 
 
 " Is he not home ?" — he could but shake his head. 
 
 The doctor hurried to his patient's bed. 
 
UTTLITFATST. 113 
 
 That father stood, and gazed into the night, 
 Like one struck dumb — who looks but has no 
 
 sight. 
 His name was called — quick to the bed of pain 
 He turned — his wife could speak to him again ! 
 " Oh, Patsy was so good !" she feebly said. 
 " Where is he now ? I ventured from my bed — 
 I let him go out playing with his sled." 
 The doctor signed — John struggled to control 
 The wild waves of remorse that filled his soul 
 In vain, they burst the feeble will's restraint: 
 He uttered forth his self-accursing plaint: 
 " See, with this rope, for what he had not done, 
 I lashed him, like a demon — Oh, my son ! 
 I sent you forth, whUe I was housed and warm — 
 Poor boy ! to face alone this awful storm !" 
 He grasped his lantern, saying, " Do not fear, 
 rU search until I find him, Mary, dear!" 
 He went and asked a neighbor's wife to stay 
 With Mary; and then started on his way. 
 The careful doctor waited to explain 
 What should be done till he'd return again. 
 John moved straight onward watchfully and slow, 
 Looked in the gullies, through the drifts of snow, 
 And hoarsely, on the winds, that hurried by, 
 Sent Patsy's name; but there was no reply. 
 
114 LITTLE FATST. 
 
 The basin of the falls he neared at length; 
 Looked down the steep and called with all his 
 
 strength: 
 Mad waters roared — winds lashed the limbs on 
 
 high, 
 Yet, through it all, he heard a feeble cry, 
 His heart leaped up — he knew he'd find his child 
 In the dark vale where rushed the waters wild. 
 Planting his heels into the crusted snow. 
 He struggled down the 'bankment far below; 
 With lantern raised, he spied a shrinking form 
 Behind a tree, close huddled from the storm. 
 Poor boy ! he was afraid — he crouched still lower, 
 And cried, "Don't whip — don't whip me any 
 
 more! 
 Oh, pa ! I fell down here — 1 tried my best — 
 Ma's bottle,s safe — here — safe upon my breast !" 
 The father cried, " No, Patsy — ne'er again 
 I'll raise my cruel hands to give you pain — 
 God be my witness !" Patsy could not hear, 
 Nor feel upon his face the falling tear. 
 The father saw, beneath his lantern's Hght, 
 The frozen arm held the vial tight. 
 His coat soon wrapped the little boy around, 
 His arms soon raised the hero from the ground, 
 Then up the slope he struggled with his load; 
 
LITTLE PATSY. 115 
 
 He paused — lie tottered — "Where, oh where's the 
 
 road? 
 Take care, take care! One false step may de- 
 stroy ! 
 He prayed aloud: "O God! Save, save my 
 
 boy!" 
 From out of the dark: "Bear up!" a strong voice 
 
 cried, 
 From out the dark two strong arms came to 
 
 guide. 
 The feeling doctor, led on by the light. 
 Had traced the father's footsteps through the 
 
 night, 
 His waiting sleigh soon bore a precious freight. 
 Speed on, speed on ! oh, will they they be too 
 
 late? 
 
 No — Patsy woke to consciousness once more: 
 The morning sun beamed in upon the floor; 
 Up o'er the hills, from Saint John's chiming 
 bells, 
 
 A Christmas song of gladness sweetly swells. 
 He saw his feeble mother by his bed, 
 His father standing down-cast at its head. 
 
116 LITTLE PATSY. 
 
 They caught the light, new-gleaming from his 
 
 eyes, 
 And both leaned o'er him filled with glad sur- 
 prise. 
 He looked up at them in his simple way, 
 And said, "Oh, ain't it good — it's Christmas 
 
 Day! 
 I see my fiddle — and a brand new sled — 
 There on the table. Put them on my bed ?" 
 Their hearts were full: they let him have his 
 
 way. 
 And by him placed new toys, just bought that 
 
 day, 
 The mother turned to hide her falling tear, 
 The father's prayers, oh, that day, were sincere. 
 
 "Winter had passed, and Summer bloomed again. 
 Ere Patsy left his weary bed of pain; 
 Out by the door they placed an easy chair. 
 And let him sit to breathe the cooling air. 
 As, by the gate, his little comrades passed. 
 They smiled with joy to see his face at last; 
 But when they saw a little empty sleeve 
 Wave in the wind, Oh, how their hearts did 
 grieve ! 
 
LITTLE PATSY. 
 
 117 
 
 The arm was gone that on that winter's night 
 Had held the vial ! — Yet his heart was Hght, 
 For he was blest with patience in his pain, 
 And time reveals, he suffered not in vain ! 
 Ah, souls — brave souls, like his their victory- 
 gain! 
 
118 MOAN OF TOIL. 
 
 MOAN OF TOIL. 
 
 While thrift draws gain from toil to swell her 
 hoard, 
 
 The venal world the victim harshly grips; 
 
 Urging her grinning wrongs to wield their whips. 
 And give the poor wretch lashes for reward — 
 See ! bitter dregs of misery are poured 
 
 Into her cup and pressed against her lips; 
 
 She clutches the dark goblet and she sips, 
 With seeming zest, the draught — the draught 
 abhorred. 
 
 Made mad, she moves awry to right her wrong, 
 And beats the bars of her environment 
 
 In vain, for her oppressor, now grown strong. 
 Flings chains about her, and prostrate she's bent. 
 
 How long must she moan helpless yet ? How long 
 Shed tears of blood ere saving succor's sent ? 
 
ONE WOEKINQ OIRL. 119 
 
 ONE WOEKING GIRL. 
 
 Far from a house — a home no more, 
 
 A maid in terror fled, 
 To shun the shame within its door, 
 
 And earn her honest bread. 
 
 Though but a feeble girl was she, 
 
 Her virtue made her strong, 
 And in her light, she would not see 
 
 The shadow of a wrong. 
 
 She faced the strange world all alone. 
 
 And with her willing hand. 
 She toiled along, without a groan, 
 
 In labor's groaning band. 
 
 Near where she lodged there dwelt a jouth, 
 
 Who won in time her love; 
 The soul of honor and of truth. 
 
 She thought that he would prove. 
 
 But, with unsteady step, she saw 
 Him stagger on, one day; 
 
120 ONE WORKING GIRL. 
 
 She knew the curse of such a flaw, 
 And turned from him away. 
 
 Pale grew her cheek, her loving heart 
 
 Had deeply felt the shock. 
 But yet she stood from him apart, 
 
 Like some unshaken rock. 
 
 When once dark clouds obscure the light. 
 
 The end we cannot trace, 
 The times grew hard, there came a blight, 
 
 She had to leave her place. 
 
 Too soon she finds she cannot pay 
 
 E'en for the bit she eats, 
 And cruel hands turn her away 
 j To walk the open streets. . 
 
 Crushed by the weight of many woes, 
 
 Her eyes can shed no tears. 
 While aimless through the night she goes. 
 
 With neither hopes nor fears; 
 
 But Mark her lover lingers nigh, 
 
 He sees her roaming on — 
 He speaks — he tells her that he'll try 
 
 To live for her alone. 
 
ONE WORKING GIRL. 121 
 
 He vows that every path he'll shun 
 
 That led him from her side, 
 He bids her struggle not alone, 
 
 But come and be his bride. 
 
 Alas! poor girl! Crushed was her pride; 
 
 She took the hand he gave — ■ 
 'T were better — ^better had she died. 
 
 And rested — in her grave ! 
 
 For all the solemn vows he made 
 
 Were only for a day; 
 Again he turned from her and strayed 
 
 On habit's beaten way. 
 
 And she — ? Oh, draw the veil and hide 
 
 The sorrows of her life. 
 That gathered — gathered till she died 
 
 A broken-hearted wife. 
 
 Why weep her death ? — Oh ! pity's tear 
 
 Will aU unbidden fall, 
 Though bright-winged Mercy hovers near 
 
 To loosen mortal thrall. 
 
122 
 
 ONE WORKING GIRL. 
 
 Ah ! souls wlien purified by woe 
 Grope through, the night no more, 
 
 For then upon them bursts the glow 
 Of joy from yonder shore. 
 
 But they will feel stern justice smite 
 Who make the weak their foes, 
 
 Who, wantonly, with all their might, 
 Would tread upon a rose. 
 
A PLAIN BLUNT FARMING MAN. 123 
 
 A PLAIN BLUNT FAEMING MAN. 
 
 Yes, I'm a plain blunt farming man, 
 
 I aint afraid of labor; 
 You'll do well to adopt my plan, 
 And pusb along, make all you can. 
 
 In justice to your neighbor. 
 
 I'm snugly fixed, all trouble's past, 
 And everything goes charming; 
 For plenty at my door is cast, 
 And, boys, they call me rich at last; 
 I got it all by farming. 
 
 I'U tell you what I've got to-night; 
 
 A wife still brisk and healthy: 
 Two sons with strength the world to fight 
 Two pretty daughters plump and bright, 
 
 And their papa quite wealthy. 
 
 Now boys — no use in caving in; 
 "When sympto.ms are alarming, 
 
124 A PLAIN BLUNT FARMING MAN. 
 
 No! push right on, and pluck will win; 
 And you'll do well if you begin, 
 Like me, by trying farming. 
 
 Go, plow the land 
 With your own hand, 
 And then, right quick, 
 Just harrow slick; 
 Sow broad your seeds, 
 Keep down your weeds. 
 And then you'll go, from year to year. 
 With sweet contentment ever near. 
 
 I plant my corn 
 At early dawn; 
 When over ground 
 I hoe it round; 
 I dodge the rain 
 To reap my grain; 
 When grass is high 
 I mow it spry. 
 And choose my day 
 For making hay; 
 Driving along 
 My team, with song, 
 And thus I go from year to year, 
 With sweet contentment ever near. 
 
HIS- POOR HEART. 125 
 
 HIS POOR HEART. 
 
 O my poor heart is won 
 
 By a maid young and bright, 
 But she treats it as fun, 
 
 And she laughs at my plight; 
 O that laugh 'tis as light 
 
 As the sweet wind that blows, 
 In June's balmy night, 
 
 O'er the opening rose. 
 
 O whenever I try 
 
 To whisper love's word, 
 'Tis defined by her eye 
 
 Ere my lips have been heard; 
 
 she laughs with her eyes, 
 From their lashes they gleam 
 
 Like a glimpse of the skies 
 In a clear running stream. 
 
 Yet I hope through my sighs; 
 O I know she is mine; 
 
 1 have studied her eyes, 
 
 I have seen there the sign! 
 
126 
 
 HIS POOR HEART. 
 
 Soon her laugh's merry ring 
 Will be toned to a smile; 
 
 For the touch of Love's wing 
 Will subdue in awhile. 
 
TEE POWER OF SYMPATHY. 127 
 
 THE POWER OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 I'll tell you of a simple deed, that came beneath 
 
 my eye, 
 To show that hearts stiU recognize the power of 
 
 sympathy: — 
 Unto a broker's office a load of coal was brought, 
 A poor man traced it on its way, for eagerly he 
 
 sought 
 The poor reward his hands might earn. He 
 
 stood, with anxious eye. 
 And saw it piled upon the walk, as cutting winds 
 
 swept by. 
 His hand, that felt want's coldest clutch, unfelt so 
 
 harsh before, 
 Now opened, with a timid touch, the polished 
 
 office door; 
 He entered: there the broker sat and told his 
 
 gathered gain, 
 wiU his heart prompt him to ease a feUow- 
 
 creature's pain? 
 He turns — he sees the wretched man, and rising 
 
 from his chair 
 
128 THE POWER OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 He sternly, haughtily, demands to know his busi- 
 ness there. 
 
 The poor man felt the keenest touch of insult in 
 his heart, 
 
 But want choked back his lingering pride, and 
 hid the inward smart. 
 
 He asked if he might have the job of bringing in 
 the coal; 
 
 The broker offered him a price as small as beg- 
 gar's dole. 
 
 He quick agreed, and turned away, his labor to 
 begin 
 
 When through the opening door, there walked the 
 broker's partner in; 
 
 While with him, by him ushered in, another la- 
 borer came, 
 
 Perhaps to struggle for the job and add to labor's 
 shame 
 
 The partner to the broker turned and thus did he 
 begin: 
 
 "Here is a laborer I've hired, our coal to carry 
 in." 
 
 And, as he told to him the price that he'd agreed 
 to pay, 
 
 The poor men stood there face to face, with not a 
 word to say. 
 
TEE POWER OF SYMPATHY. 129 
 
 "Why," said the broker, "here's a man, who in to 
 
 me just came, 
 And I have given him the job at half the price you 
 
 name." 
 "Ah," said the partner, "all right then." He turn- 
 ed to him he'd brought. 
 And said, "Excuse me, you may go, your price 
 
 was high, I thought." 
 Without a word, the poor man turned towards the 
 
 office door, 
 Yet by his face you well might see that his sad 
 
 heart was sore 
 But see! the other laborer now hurries after him: 
 He takes his hand, he turns him 'round, and, see ! 
 
 his eyes are dim. 
 He cries, "0 give this man the job ? my right I 
 
 yield him free — 
 And give him every cent he asks — he needs it 
 
 more than me — 
 He has children and a wife who look to him for 
 
 all, 
 WhUe I am — now — alone in life — my needs are 
 
 few and small." 
 The brokers gave a hurried look into each other's 
 
 eyes: 
 Sweet pity melted both their hearts, and pierced 
 
 their souls' disguise, 
 
130 
 
 THE POWEB OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 In doing good to those poor men great was their 
 joy within — 
 
 That laborer's act had taught them both that 
 human kind are kin. 
 
 Such was the simple, noble deed that came be- 
 neath my eye : 
 
 It proves that hearts still recognize the power of 
 sympathy ! 
 
CUNNING JAKE. 131 
 
 CUNNING JAKE. 
 
 We all knew one-eyed Jake, the country round, 
 A trickier chap than he was never found; 
 One day he thought he saw a chance to try 
 The power of his pecuHar quality: 
 A traveling show was on the village green; 
 Huge paintings of the wonders to be seen, 
 Pretentiously bedecked the scanty tent: 
 He vowed to go, "if it took every cent." 
 Said Jake: "Now boys, come watch my neat de- 
 vice 
 To take the whole thing in, at just half price; 
 "While if you chaps would see that show to-day, 
 Your full half-doUars you would have to pay." 
 Anxious to see the trick, with him they go 
 To where are sold the tickets for the show. 
 With " quarter " in his hand slipped through the 
 
 wicket 
 He cried out, "Here you are sir, half a ticket?" 
 The ticket seller thought 't was for some child, 
 And passed it out obligingly and mild; 
 
132 CUNNING- JAKE. 
 
 Then neath the noses of his wondering crowd 
 Jake shook it, feeling jubilant and proud 
 "What's done so far" said one, "is easily done, 
 But try now to go in — and we'll see the fun." 
 "All right," said Jake, they quickly with him 
 
 went 
 Up by the narrow entrance of the tent, 
 Jake placed the ticket in the door-man's hand, 
 But soon a rough grasp brought him to a stand; 
 "Hold on!" the door-man cried, "Here, this won't 
 
 do, 
 HaK price, sir, is for kids — not coves like you !" 
 " You're wrong, my man," said Jake, "I'll tell you 
 
 why 
 I claim that right : I've only got one eye, 
 Fixed as I am but half the things I'd see, 
 And so it's only justice, sir, for me." 
 The jolly door-man grinned from ear to ear 
 And said " WeU, that's the best I've heard this 
 
 year; 
 But business, sir, is business, sir, you know — 
 'T would take you double time to see the show. 
 So double price, for you, is very low. 
 One dollar, down for one-eyed men's my rate 
 Take it or leave it that my figure straight !" 
 As Jake's companions roared at his defeat. 
 
CUNNING JAKE. 
 
 133 
 
 Jake grasped the door-man's hand and said " I'm 
 
 beat!" 
 And after that, Jake's friends were never slow 
 To ask him how he made out at the show. 
 
134 THE WASTED INHERITANCE. 
 
 THE WASTED INHEEITANCE. 
 
 "My son, I leave to you this gem, 
 
 Ridier than royal diadem ! " 
 A dying father cried, 
 *' O, stainless keep it, and its power 
 "Will cheer, what e'er betide, life's hour!" 
 
 He blessed his boy and died. 
 
 The youth shed tears of felial grief, 
 But, Ah! its influence was brief: 
 Deep in his heart he felt relief, 
 
 With no restraint to hold; 
 His father gone : he gazed around. 
 He left the old paternal ground. 
 To seek for joy, where naught is found 
 
 But phantoms raised with gold. 
 
 Mark his career — his quickening speed — 
 See how he strains, with growing greed, 
 To clutch each swiftly-melting joy. 
 That mocks him — charms him, to destroy 
 His wondrous jewel's pride! 
 
THE WASTED INHERITANCE. 135 
 
 Soon — soon his dream of pleasure o'er, 
 Dashed, powerless, on a dreadful shore, 
 His talismanic gem no more 
 Eeveals life's brighter side ! 
 
 Stained, dimmed, and crumbling into dust. 
 
 Destroyed by foul corroding rust. 
 
 The priceless gem his father gave 
 
 "Was gone ! — The youth sank to his grave, 
 
 Alas ! unmourned and lost. 
 O sons of unremembered sires ! 
 If reins you'd give to your desires, 
 Pause ere you waken smouldering fires, 
 
 And count your folly's cost. 
 
136 THE LADY AND THE FLOWER OIBL. 
 
 THE LADY AND THE FLOWER GIRL. 
 
 Flower Giel, {hearing flowers.) 
 
 Sweet flowers — sweet flowers ! Come buy them I 
 pray! 
 
 Come buy my sweet flowers, culled freshly to- 
 day ! 
 
 Lady. 
 
 Come here, pretty Maiden ? Tour flowers let me 
 
 see ? — 
 Would you not like to live thus, a lady like me ? — 
 How can you be happy while toiling each day ? 
 
 Flower Girl. 
 
 By working with light heart and getting my pay. 
 I'm happy though I'm poor, 
 I go from door to door, 
 And gaily pass the hours; 
 My little trade is sure. 
 For all love flowers. 
 
TEE LADY AND THE FLO WEB GIEL. 137 
 
 Lady. 
 
 But see, all the year throngli from labor I'm free, 
 "WTiile millions are toUing all round us for me ! 
 
 Flower Giel. 
 
 Ah, Lady, beKeve me I'd change not with thee ! 
 I'm blest with the sweets of my toil, like the bee. 
 How can you be happy with no work to do, 
 While millions are toiling all round us for you ? 
 
 Lady. 
 
 No time, Girl — No time — as my life onward flows, 
 To shed useless tears o'er humanity's woes ! 
 A merry life is mine. 
 It has but one design. 
 To dress — to lead — to shine 
 Mid fashion's throng, 
 
 Flowee Giel. 
 
 Your smUling friends abound. 
 But if dark fortune frowned. 
 They'd vanish, with the sound 
 Of pleasure's song. 
 
138 THE LADY AND THE FLOWER QIBL, 
 
 Lady. 
 
 No matter — No matter, this life's all a mask, 
 "While gold I can scatter, 
 They'll fawn and they'll flatter; 
 
 I've power, in my hour, and that's all I ask ! 
 
 Would you ask any more than, thus, girl, to shine. 
 
 And rush on through mazes of pleasure like mine? 
 
 Flower. Girl. 
 
 Ah, yes I would ask for a soul full of joy, 
 Which life's rudest tempests could never destroy ! 
 Kind Lady Good-bye, these are my golden hours. 
 And bright opportunity blooms with my flowers ! 
 
 Lady. 
 
 Good-bye, may the flowers "of your heart ever 
 
 bloom 
 Unbarted, and sweet with joy's purest perfume J 
 
WALK NO SECRET WAT. 139 
 
 WALK NO SECEET WATo 
 
 "A maiden should be wooed on her father's 
 
 hearth-stone." — 
 
 Old Proverb. 
 
 A stranger, straying from the city, 
 
 Met a laughing country-maid; 
 He pressed her hand, he called her pretty; 
 
 Praised her hair of golden shade — 
 
 Ah cruel jest ! the bright young beauty 
 Chanced to please his selfish eye.— 
 
 She lingered. Will no voice of duty 
 Bid her turn from him and fly ? 
 
 Her heart beat high: his novel pleading 
 
 Came like music to her ears; 
 O will she, warnings aU unheeding, 
 Blindly stray, with flattery leading, 
 
 TiQ its music turns to jeers, 
 Till, its cruel arts succeeding. 
 
 All her laughter melts to tears ? 
 
MO WALK NO SEGBET WAT. 
 
 Truth slie looked for in his eyes. 
 Truth no questioned soul denies ! 
 
 T'was there, as if by inspiration, 
 Quick, she fathomed his disguise. 
 
 And caught the warning revelation 
 That he uttered only lies. 
 
 "Begone," she cried, from him retreating, 
 
 " I'll not walk your secret way ! 
 Nor will I list to lips repeating 
 
 Vows that pass like breath away ! 
 He who would win must woe me, rather, 
 
 Where the whole world might look on; 
 Within yon cottage of my father. 
 
 There alone can I be won ! " 
 
 Thus she spoke, and thus they parted; 
 He, in seeming-pride arrayed. 
 Humbled turned into the shade; 
 
 While, self-reliant, and light hearted, . 
 Walked the laughing country-maid, 
 Nimbly o'er the sunny glade. 
 
OUB MO THEE. 141 
 
 OUE MOTHER. 
 
 Do not cry my little brother, 
 
 All that's done is for the best 
 If you truly love our mother, 
 
 Don't disturb her quiet rest ! 
 She, who did her duty by us. 
 
 Left me here your steps to guide; 
 Watching angels now would try us. 
 
 Ere they lead us to her side. 
 
 Here is where our Mother's sleeping. 
 Freed, at last, from every toil; 
 
 See the tender clovers peeping. 
 Bright with promise, from the soil ! 
 
 Do not cry my little brother, 
 
 O you give your sister pain ! 
 Let us comfort one another. 
 
 Through the years that yet remain; 
 Drive away each mournful feeling; — 
 
 Mother taught us to be brave ! 
 Let us XDray for strength, while kneeling 
 
 Here together by her grave ! 
 
142 
 
 OUR MOTHEB. 
 
 Whisper low, for slie is sleeping; 
 
 Sweetly resting from her toil — 
 Do not crush the clovers peeping, 
 
 Bright with promise, from the soil ! 
 
PBOMiaE. 143 
 
 PEOMISE. 
 
 In Autumn's eve amid the trees I stood, 
 
 And saw the fair leaves, flushed with death- 
 bright hues. 
 
 Clinging, in vain, as if they would refuse, 
 Obedience to the gale that sweeps the wood; 
 I cried: Is this the end of every bud? 
 
 Will we like leaves our frail existance lose ? 
 
 Oh have we aught that winds cannot diffuse — 
 That falls not down to mingle with earth's mud ? 
 
 I saw new-moon beams burst from out the gloom. 
 And o'er the dying leaves their radiance fling ; 
 
 Upon the swaying boughs there seemed to bloom, 
 Once more, the blossoms of another Spring; 
 
 O Heavenly sign ! that smiled, above earth's tomb. 
 With promise of a new awaking ! 
 
IM THE TWO FOOLS. 
 
 THE TWO FOOLS. 
 
 A spendthrift, who had failed to get 
 
 The fortune he desired. 
 Grew, thin, with worriment and fret, 
 
 In solitude retired; 
 He lost all hope, he bought a rope. 
 Determined with his woes to cope. 
 
 By desperation fired; 
 
 Fast to a huge convenient limb, 
 That stretched out from a tree, 
 
 He tied the rope, in proper trim. 
 For hanging such as he; 
 
 But, as the goose affixed the noose, 
 
 Beneath his feet the soil felt loose. 
 He stopped the cause to see — 
 
 Wonders ! from beneath the soil 
 A massive stone he rolled, 
 
 And there, rewarding ah his toil. 
 He found a crock of a'old. 
 
THE TWO FOOLS. M5 
 
 His dazzled eyes behold the prize, 
 Then with it from the place he flies, 
 Now for a time consoled. 
 
 When he had gone the miser came; 
 The owner of the store, 
 
 To feed his avaricious flame, 
 By adding to it more; 
 
 He saw the ground was broken 'round. 
 
 His worshiped gold could not be found- 
 In rage his locks he tore. 
 
 He saw the rope, that still hung loose, 
 
 While raving in despair. 
 He slipped his head into the noose 
 
 And dangled in the air; 
 Death quickly came to crown his shame ;- 
 Men only laugh and speak his name. 
 
 And say; "Let fools beware ! " 
 
 The one who stole the store of gold 
 Soon squandered it in show. 
 
 And, folley-led, walked blindly-bold 
 To misery and woe; 
 
146 
 
 THE TWO FOOLS. 
 
 Death quickly came to crown his shame ^ 
 Men only laugh and speak his name, 
 And say: " Fools come and go! " 
 
THE WIDOW'S SON, 147 
 
 THE WIDOW'S SON. 
 
 The first act of a tragic play is this : — 
 Come, let us look upon the waiting scene, 
 The curtain rises. There the actors come, 
 See how a widow's son indulgent reared. 
 Brings to his mother's house the orphan-girl 
 Whose promise he has won to be his bride; 
 With joy the mother blesses them and tells 
 Her son to shield from harm his chosen flower, 
 And let no chiUing winter-blast come nigh. 
 He takes the maiden's trusting hand in his, 
 And, standing by his mother's side, he gives 
 To her, who crowns his manhood with her love 
 The sacred pledge of life-long constancy. 
 
 The second act : behold, the scene is changed, 
 blessed sight ! within a new-made home. 
 The widow's son and orphan-girl made one. 
 Now dwell together in that perfect joy 
 Which truly-wedded hearts find on our earth. — 
 But see ? There enters now a man of smiles — 
 
14:8 THE WIDOW'S SON. 
 
 Ah, hearts that love ! keep close in j'our embrace, 
 Lest, like a wedge, a smile may come between, 
 To tear you from each other! Mark, how he 
 
 proves 
 A master that flattery which draws 
 Weak minds to loose the holy ties of home. 
 And fall away to danger in the dark ! 
 The wife, with woman's instinct, quickly sees 
 The sombre cloud that hovers o'er their peace, 
 And begs her husband not to leave her side. 
 The smooth-tongued tempter, with a smUe and 
 
 jest 
 At husbands, slaves to too exacting wives. 
 Soon gains o'er vacillation victory. 
 They're gone. The young wife, waked so rudely 
 
 from 
 The dawn-dream of her love's companionship, 
 Cries out, in all her agony of soul, 
 " Come back ! Come back ! My straying Love, 
 
 come back ! " 
 She hears no answer but the tempter's laugh. 
 That from the distance cuts her like a knife. 
 She stands alone and looks into the night. 
 And weep the first tears of her married-life. 
 
 Act the third! the scene is still the same: 
 A home built up by love, now desolate. 
 
THE WIDOW'S SON. 149 
 
 A weeping wife awaiting the return 
 
 Of one wlio from lier never should have strayed. 
 
 He comes — the flatter's victim — See, he walks 
 
 'Into his saddened home no slave of drink, 
 
 But smirched with even darker, deadlier stains; 
 
 His place of trust is gone, and he is left 
 
 To slow and sure subsidence day by day. 
 
 Mark, where he sleeps, in listless slothfulness, 
 
 As if content to drift unto despair; 
 
 While o'er him, with a broken heart, there leans 
 
 The one whose joy is wrecked on such a shore 
 
 Again the tempter enters on the scene ; 
 
 But see ! the wife now meets him, face to face, 
 
 And teUs him to begone and leave her home — 
 
 Her ruined home-cursed by his serpent wUes. 
 
 Look, how his smile, fades out! Hark, bitter 
 
 words: 
 He hisses out new tortures for her ears, 
 And she, in horror, trembling, turns away. 
 The 'wakened husband, hearing, quick up-springs, 
 Hxirls back the black lie in the tempter's teeth. 
 And heaps on him the blame for all their woe — 
 The tempter, flushed with rage, a weapon draws 
 But, swift as lightning from the riven cloud, 
 The victim tears it from his hand and aims 
 To pierce the coward-heart that sought his own — 
 
150 THE WIDOW'S SON. 
 
 Quick springs the loving wife between, to stay 
 His maddened liand — too late ! Alas, too late ! 
 She falls, with words of love upon her lips. 
 Pierced by the deadly bullet to the heart, 
 Down at her husband's feet and bleeding dies. — 
 Out — out into the darkness, far away. 
 The tempter flies and he is seen no more. 
 
 The fourth act now reveals another scene : — 
 A court of justice with its powers in play. 
 The eager crowds now gaze towards the dock 
 Where stands the widow's son a prisoner: 
 Their listening ears are strained, for, now, he 
 
 speaks, 
 He asks that he may die a murderer's death; 
 But those who trace the intent of each deed, 
 And give to crime accordant punishment, 
 Must needs deny his self-accusing wish. 
 And shape for him, in lieu of that extreme, 
 The fate of long confinement from the world. 
 He hears the sentence of the judge prononced, 
 And cried aloud: " Oh worse — oh, worse than 
 
 death 
 To live when life is torture-^-when remorse, 
 With ceaseless clutch upon the soul, compels 
 The unsleeping eye of conscience to behold 
 
TliE WIDOW'S SON. 151 
 
 The past with all its horrors still alive ! " 
 
 He speaks no more — he bows his head, and all 
 
 Who know his history are moved to tears. 
 
 The fifth act, and the last, brings us again 
 
 Unto the widow's house. See, there she lies, 
 
 With broken heart, upon her dying bed, 
 
 And calls upon her boy to come to her. 
 
 That she may once more hold him on her 
 
 breast. — 
 He comes not, yet she calls, and calls again, 
 With ceaseless perseverance, and the spark 
 Of life, breathed — on by breath of loving hope, 
 Is held suspended dark and light between. 
 But hark, she hears a step — she asks who comes, 
 And cries aloud, " My boy — my boy is here ! " 
 Ah, well she knows, — the door is gently moved 
 See, in he comes and runs into her arms ! 
 How comes he here, the convict of the State ? 
 Good men have pleaded with the ruling powers 
 To let him, ere to far confinement borne. 
 Be, guarded, brought unto his mother's side, 
 And not in vain — they've yielded: there he kneels. 
 The mother looks into his haggered face. 
 And breathes the language of her deathless love; 
 He cannot speak — he only hides his head, 
 
152 THE WIDOW'S ^ON. 
 
 And pours a flood of bitter scalding tears. 
 
 Thus are they left alone, with all apart. — 
 
 The officers unto their duty pledged, 
 
 At last, the signal give, to call him hence — 
 
 They wait, but yet he comes not forth, and then 
 
 Goes one, with silent footsteps to the bed. 
 
 And whispers that the time has come to go. 
 
 The dying woman, hearing, cries aloud, 
 
 " No, no, you shall not tear him from me now ! 
 
 He's mine ! He's mine ! Begone ! leave me my 
 
 boy ! " 
 She clasps him tighter in her wasted arms; 
 To late — too late she tries to hold her boy I 
 Her arms unloosen suddenly, she falls 
 Backwards in ghastly stiUness on her couch; 
 No more to feel the agony of life ! 
 The convict bends above her moveless form — 
 He finds the truth, and horror-stricken, cries, 
 " O God ! My mother — My poor mother dead ! 
 Another life charged — charged to my account ! " 
 The curtain falls — the actors' work is done : 
 But let the lesson taught move ever on, 
 
TEE BEATEN WAY. 153 
 
 THE BEATEN WAY. 
 
 Along a rocky path, a pilgrim slowly wends 
 His weary way, alone, and, though with age he 
 bends, 
 
 He climbs the hills; 
 The steady restless walk, the eager look of care, 
 Beveal that duty shapes some strange sad mission 
 there, 
 Upon the hills. 
 
 But, see ! Who comes ? A youth bright eyes filled 
 
 with hope 
 "With self-reliant step approaches down the 
 
 slope — 
 "What seek you here, my boy, and from whence 
 
 do you come ? " 
 " I seek for fame — for joy — I leave yon humble 
 
 home; 
 That solitary cot no more for me has charms — 
 Behold the beaming -world ! I fly into its arms, 
 Pown from these hills ! " 
 
154 THE BEATEN WAT. 
 
 " Youth, go no further on ! Your eager steps 
 
 retrace; 
 The smiling world deceives — stay in your native 
 
 place ! 
 Seek not for joy afar — it dwells about your home, 
 With fame your guiding star you'U ever wretched 
 
 roam, 
 
 Far from these hills ! 
 The world gave to me, and crowned me with its 
 
 fame; 
 Now from its shams I flee, and bow my head in 
 
 shame. 
 
 Amid these hiUs ! " 
 
 A mocking laugh rings high; the youth with 
 
 flashing eyes. 
 As swift he hurried by, back to the old man cries: 
 " Weep on — I seek the world, but not like you to 
 
 stay, 
 Unheeding, tiU my kin despair and pass away 
 From their loved hills ! " 
 
 The Pilgrim, speechless, bows his head upon his 
 
 breast; 
 The eager youth speeds on, scorn in his glance 
 
 expressed. 
 
THE BEATEN WAY. 155 
 
 Down from his native hills the wilful boy has 
 
 gone; 
 Beyond the rocks afar — behold! he's speeding 
 
 on — 
 He meets the waves of life that roll on every side; 
 He struggles — he is lost amid the human tide, 
 Far from the hills ! 
 
 The old man slowly turns his upward path to 
 trace ; 
 
 Shame's quenchless torture burns upon his with- 
 ered face, 
 
 Amid the frowning rocks, his form now fades from 
 sight. 
 
 But Oh, your loving hearts will judge his task 
 aright. 
 Upon the hills. 
 
156 LUCY'S WEDDING DAT. 
 
 TO-MOREOW 'S LUCY'S WEDDING DAT 
 AN* MINE ! 
 
 Ha ! Lucy said she'd come an' meet me here : 
 I've plucked these flowers for her — The Little 
 
 Dear ! 
 O don't I like her? WeU I guess I do ! 
 If she liked you, like me, why you would too. 
 Ah, there's our singing tree — Blow, breezes 
 
 blow! 
 Sing, sing above us, while we whisper low! — 
 What wiU we say ? Ha, yes, you'd like to know 
 But wait — I'n tell you something, if you'll say 
 You'll keep it quiet just a single day ? — 
 Well, you must know, my Lucy 's Lucy White — 
 A good name, but it doesn't suit me quite,. 
 Nor her — she'll change it 'fore to-morrow 
 
 night 
 O don't I hope to-morrow will be fine ! 
 To-morrow 's Lucy's wedding-day an' mine ! 
 
LUCY'S WEDDINQ BAT. 157 
 
 Afraid ? No ! no ! though I have never been 
 A bride-groom in my life, an' must be green, 
 Why should I be, when she's got pluck to 
 
 come 
 An' marry me; an' let me take her home? 
 Bujfc even so — ha ! ha ! why all the same 
 I'd face the music if she'd take my name ! 
 For, oh, I tell you now, in all my days, 
 I never met a gal with nicer ways. 
 rU tell you what I mean; she never wears 
 No prinkey, puffed-up, stand-off, shallow airs; 
 But she has always just the same mild way, 
 Without her bein' bold, she can be gay; 
 O she's the gal can my rough ways refine — 
 To-morrow is her wedding-day an' mine ! 
 
 I'll tell you what it ist there's nothing better 
 Then likin' some gal an' tryin' to get her; 
 No danger of a feller goin' down hill 
 If he goes in and sparks her with a will; 
 An' pops the question when he gets a show — 
 Ha! — that's the way to work! I ought to 
 
 know ! 
 Then, if he's fit to have, — an' gals can see — 
 He'll win the day, an' feel as good as me ! 
 
158 
 
 LUCY'S WEDDING DAY. 
 
 Ah! there comes Lucy! Just you see her 
 
 gait ! — 
 I'll have to go an' meet her — I can't wait ! 
 How bright she is — with joy she seems to 
 
 shine — 
 To-morrow 's Lucy's wedding-day an' mine ! 
 
THE ORPHAN. 159 
 
 THE OEPHAN. 
 
 When working for her daily bread, 
 
 Where strangers come and go, 
 The orphan's thoughts go back again 
 
 To childhood's years of woe; 
 Back to a gentle mother's care, 
 
 When by her side she clung, 
 And feared a drunken father's hand, 
 
 And sacrilegious tongue. 
 
 While her good mother strove to hold 
 
 Their home, from day to day, 
 By work, her cruel father reeled 
 
 On his besotted way; 
 How often Avould her mother's tears 
 
 Induce him to refrain; 
 How often would he break his word. 
 
 And take to drink again. 
 
 She never knew a father's love; 
 His name but seemed to be. 
 
160 TEE OBPEAN. 
 
 To her, a name for want and woe, 
 For blows and blasphemy. — 
 
 At last there came and ending day : 
 His dead form home they bore; 
 
 They'd found him frozen stiff and cold, 
 Outside a bar-room door. 
 
 The struggle past, her mother failed 
 
 And faded, day by day; ' 
 Dark years of wrong and wretchedness 
 
 Had stole her strength away; 
 But never took away her love 
 
 For him she could not save. — 
 She blessed, her gentle orphan child, 
 
 And sank into her grave. 
 
 While working for her daily bread, 
 Where strangers come and go. 
 
 The orphan's thoughts go back again 
 To childhood's years of woe; 
 
 But, then the present soon recalls. 
 From buried woes, her mind; 
 
 For there are always wrongs enough 
 With orphan's lives intwined. 
 
THE CABIN IN THE OLEN. 161 
 
 THE CABIN IN THE GLEN. 
 
 Tekky. 
 
 O Mary, My Darling ! fly -with me to-niglit ! 
 Sweet joys are awaiting — the cliurcli is in sight — 
 When the ring 's on yer finger they cant steal you 
 
 then 
 From the wee little cabin I've built in the glen, 
 
 Maby. 
 
 O Terry, I cannot go wid you, my dear ! 
 Tou know I am an orphan, my uncle I fear; 
 He wants me to marry for gold, not for love. 
 Oh, go to him, Terry, his heart try to move ' 
 
 Tebky. 
 
 Mary, yer uncle I'll never go near ! 
 'Tis you that I want, not yer uncle, my dear; 
 Oh, show that an Irish girl's heart can't be sold , 
 That she'll stand by her love spite of station or gold! 
 
162 THE CABIN IN TEE GLEN. 
 
 Maky. 
 
 O, Terry, I'm wid you — in you I confide. 
 
 My heart's warmest feelings — O, Faith, I can't 
 
 hide! 
 To Church I'll go wid you, dear Terry, an' then 
 I '11 share the wee cabin you've built in the glen ! 
 
THE SEXTON'S STORY. 163 
 
 THE SEXTON'S STOEY. 
 
 Out from the cliurch had gone a mournful train, 
 
 To give unto tlie earth its own again, 
 
 The knelling bell had ceased its solemn tone, 
 
 And by the door the sexton stood alone : 
 
 Low bowed his head, and from his eyes strange 
 
 tears 
 Fell to the stones he'd trod unmoved for years. 
 I hastened to his side, to give relief, 
 I asked him to confide to me his grief. 
 " Friend, I wiU tell you aU," the old man said, 
 " My tears are for the living and the dead ! 
 For her whose coffined clay is yonder borne, 
 For him who, tearless, walks beside, forlorn. 
 My heart, I thought, was closed other's woe, 
 But, see? 'tis opened: tears of pity flow! 
 A few years since, she left this church a bride, 
 Smiling and joyous, by that husband's side. 
 In the full glory of her youthful pride. 
 Ah, on that day, beside the altar there, 
 I saw him stand before his God, and swear 
 To love, sustain and cherish her, his wife. 
 
164 THE SEXTON'S STOBT. 
 
 And shield her from the rougher blasts of life. 
 Well, with them time skipped on; bright fortune 
 
 smiled, 
 And heaven blessed them with a little child. 
 Which, like an angel missioned from above, 
 Drew them still closer in the bonds of love; 
 From their bright home example's shining ray 
 Lit-up for erring-ones true virtue's way. 
 And peace, I thought, that nothing could destroy, 
 Supremely reigned within their house of joy. 
 But oh, temptation in some luring guise 
 We all shall see till death has sealed our eyes ! 
 Out from the paradise of home he stole. 
 And thought to drink, unharmed, the demon's 
 
 bowl; 
 But changed in nature by its blasting spell. 
 He turned his happy home into a hell;— 
 Out from its door he thrust his wife and child 
 When winter's chilling blasts were blowing wild, 
 What love was hers ! she would not leave the 
 
 place — 
 She sought to hide from all her home's disgrace; 
 Outside the door, clasped to her trembhng form, 
 She held her babe, to shield it from the storm; 
 But soon her soul was filled with wild alarms; 
 She felt the child grow colder in her arms, 
 
THE SEXTON'S STOBY. 165 
 
 She beat the bolted door — her only cry: 
 
 " Our child ! our child ! O God ! our child will 
 
 die ! "— 
 Within, he ■wakes — he hears her call for aid — 
 The vapors of his drunken stupor fade — 
 He sees the awful wreck his hands have made; 
 Sobered, he springs to open wide the door, 
 His poor wife falls — falls in upon the floor — 
 Out from her arms, numbed by the bitter cold, 
 Down at his feet the little baby rolled; 
 He raised them both — he laid them on the bed — 
 His wife was still alive — the baby — dead ! 
 Oh, horrid right to meet a husband's eyes. 
 And bring remorse with all its agonies ! ^ 
 Its pangs struck deep into his wakening soul; 
 There lay the bitter fruitage of the bowl ! — 
 Then came the Law, that watches open-eyed, 
 And took him forth, for justice, from their side 
 Yes, while his wife in mortal anguish lay 
 And as they put his child beneath the clay. 
 He stood, a felon, barred from open day. — 
 Kind ministering-friends sought the lone wife's 
 
 bedside, 
 In vain : her heart was broken — and she died, 
 Then, importuned, the men who guide the State 
 Let him go forth to her disconsolate. 
 
166 THE SEXTON'S STORY. 
 
 See ? there lie stands beside her grave to-day, 
 MoTirning in deep and tearless agony. 
 
 Ah, Friend, a lesson in this world I've learned, 
 That Justice strikes, if Mercy's hand is spurned, 
 That man receives the wages he has earned ! 
 Mark ! to the grave the coffin now they lower — 
 Down — down beside the baby gone before — 
 Ah, look, the husband, by his grief oppressed, 
 Finds voice — what means that weapon from his 
 
 breast? 
 See how the crowd in terror scatter wide ! 
 He shoots — he falls ! my God ! a suicide !" 
 
 The sexton from the sight in horror fled. — 
 There by the grave the suicide lay dead ! — 
 Justice had claimed a victim for her own, 
 Mercy could only weep — the deed was done ! 
 
THE BAUD'S BEWAIID, 167 
 
 THE BAED'S KEWAED. 
 
 The minstrel sings, amid tlie throng, 
 
 The anthem of the Free; 
 Men hail the bard's prophetic song; 
 And earth's swift winds bear it along, 
 
 To Nations yet to be, — 
 The listening slave, by it made strong. 
 
 Strives for his liberty. 
 
 See now, the bard, before all eyes. 
 While listening hearts are thrilled. 
 
 Sings, that all men may realize 
 
 The truth that from love's agonies 
 Earth's blessings are distilled; 
 
 And that the rod of sacrifice 
 
 Will bloom with dreams fulfilled; 
 
 Again, upraised, in lordly hall, 
 
 His feeling numbers flow; 
 Behold ! his fiction touches all, 
 
168 THE BARD'S EEWARD. 
 
 And pity's semblance there lets faU 
 Her tears at fancied woe; 
 
 Charmed souls obey art's magic call, 
 And quiver in her glow. 
 
 At last the minstrel's voice they hush; 
 
 He weeps his fate alone; 
 Neglect's cold winds about him rush, 
 Men, who have learned his songs, now push 
 
 Him from them, thus to groan; 
 The tears, that from his eyelids gush, 
 
 FaU on his bed — a stone ! 
 
 Ah cruel men ! he filled your haUs 
 
 With song's rejoicing breath. 
 And now you thrust him from your walls 
 With hardened hearts ! Mark, where he falls 
 
 Tour cold, shut, hands beneath ! 
 See, from your sordid path he crawls. 
 
 To his reward — to death ! 
 
 O for the winds of God to bear 
 
 Ingratitude from here ! 
 O for the love that's quick to share 
 
THE BARD'S BEWABD. 169 
 
 Its bounteous blessing everywhere 
 
 All sufferers to clieer ! 
 Oh for the pity that can spare, 
 
 For real woe, a tear ! 
 
170 THE ABCII OF LIFE. 
 
 THE ARCH OF LIFE. 
 
 A father walked forth with his son 
 
 Across a blooming plain : 
 They saw a gentle brooklet run 
 
 By fields of waving grain. 
 
 They stood, where, o'er the little stream, 
 
 A bridging arch was made, 
 And saw the shining pebbles gleam. 
 
 Where shallow waters played. 
 
 " Look, Father, for a brook so small. 
 O'er which you easily stride. 
 
 Why have they built the bridge so taU, 
 With arch that spans so wide ?" 
 
 The father smiled, and, pointing where 
 The clouds were bringing rain, 
 
 Said, " Wait until the sky is fair, 
 I'll bring you here again." 
 
TEE AEGE OF LIFE. 171 
 
 A friendly roof tliey quickly found; 
 
 The rain poured from on high — 
 When it had blessed the thirsty ground, 
 
 The sun burst from the sky; 
 
 And as the clouds went trooping on, 
 
 Exhausted of their store. 
 The father led his little son 
 
 Beside the brid":e once more. 
 
 "See, now, how changed, my boy," he said, 
 " Mark, what the storm has done ? 
 
 The rill expanded from its bed. 
 Is speeding madly on. 
 
 For this they built the bridge so tall. 
 And stretched its arch so wide; 
 
 Firm stands each foundation wall. 
 Safe, in the rushing tide. 
 
 As this fair structure's built my boy. 
 
 So build your arch of life ! 
 Firm-based and lifted broad and high. 
 
 To stand through storm and strife ! 
 
172 
 
 THE ARCH OF LIFE. 
 
 For those who, for a sunnj^ day, 
 
 Their narrow fabrics rear. 
 Soon see the stosm sweep them away, 
 
 And leave but ruin there ! " 
 
 The End.