LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. shelfless < >!)S. l ' n< i i Jack Life's Game 'In i Old \\ m i hi \ i\\ Encouragement . 9 M 18 34 39 43 5° 56 63 6S 67 CONTENTS. Pensee . 69 The Truant .... 71 A Morning Shower . 73 Llorenta 74 Life 75 A Willing Victim 77 Vale • 78 My Second Love 80 When the Leaves Turn Red . 82 Not Quite So Bad 85 The Fire Burns Low 87 Love's Victory .... 89 Endless Punishment 9' The Smoker's Farewell . 93 On Winnisquam . 96 False Hopes .... 98 Sence Huldy Jumped Her Job 100 The Stolen Kiss . . . . i°3 My Autograph >°5 Two Pictures 107 Beth 108 AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO MY WIFE. THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. A kind of a purty boy was Hank : A girlish face, with an honest, frank, Conficlin' light in his cl'ar blue eyes, Thet looked with a sort of half surprise At the things they seen in Stiggins camp, An' sunthin', somehow, that seemed to stamp Him diff'runt from us, an' give him just A tritlin' flavor of upper crust. 10 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. Not nothin' put on, but nat'ral — see ? Friendly and social, but not too free ; A gentleman born was young Hank Shaw, An' he did n't drink, nor did n't chaw ; An' he did n't cuss, — thet is, not much, — An' w'en he did, he did it in such An awk'ard way you c'd tell for sure He was more or less of an amachure. Never let on whar his home hed been, Never said nothin' about his kin ; Worked right along with the rest of us, An' held his own with the best of us, Till Big-Foot Zekel, who used to laff At his genteel manners, quit his chaff, An' give out the statement, cold an' chill, He'd lick the duffer thet used Hank ill. THE PKAYE A' CURE /X THE PINES. Now, the boy was young, — jest turned sixteen, - An' the work was hard an' the chuck was mean ; But he toughed it out, through cold an' damp, Till jest as Stiggins was breakin' camp, Then tuk with fever so mighty bad He could n't be moved to town, poor lad ; So me an' Zekel an' Long Dan Drew Stayed back to 'tend him an' see him through. One day, 'twas Sunday, he'd got so weak He could n't move an' he could n't speak, But lay on his bunk so still an white We 'lowed thet he could n't last till night. Along in the mornin', say near ten, We hearn the jangle of bells, an' then A woman dashed through the shanty door An' knelt by Hank on the rough board fioor. 12 THE PR A YEN CURE IN THE PINES. Her face was lit with a look of joy, As she cried, " Thank God, I've found my boy ! " But he did n't know her ; and then she prayed, The pra'rfullest pra'r I ever hearn made ! I sorter reckon the angel bands, As she begged Hank's life at. the good Lord's hands, Must ha' stopped to listen ; 'twas rather more Than I c'd stan', — I broke for the door. The others follered. " Say, lads," says Dan, " Do you think pra'rs ever cured a man ? " " Dunno," says Zeke ; " but I know ef I Was a-settin' up thar on the Throne on High A runnin' this yar concern, an' she Come pleadin' an' prayin' thet way to me, I'd cure thet kid ef it bust the plan Of the hull durned universe ! " " Shake," says Dan. THE PRAYER CURE IX THE PINES. 13 An' jest three weeks from thet very day, Hank an' his mother rode away Down the loggin' trail. Now, some may doubt An' argy 'twas nussin' pulled him out, An' thet pra'rs don't go : but as for me, I was thar an' know what I hearn an' see, An' I'm sure thet clay attheThrone of Grace A mother's pra'r was good for its face. 14 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. WHEN THE HOUNDS GIVE TONGUE. I remember, when a youngster, how I'd lay down with my gun, An' watch upon a runway jest afore the set of sun ; An' I mind me how the quivers kinder cantered down my back, When the purps would yell to tell me they bad struck a likely track ; An' tho' I'm bent an' grizzled now, I b'lieve my heart is young, Fer it thrills me jest like liquor When the Hounds Give Tongue. WHEN THE HOUNDS GIVE TO X CUE. 15 I love to hear the medder lark tune up at peep o' day, An it kinder stirs my blood, like, when a band begins to plav : An' it makes me soft an' dreamy when I hear an organ roll. An' good ol' fashioned singin' sorter braces up my soul ; Rut thar's suthin' double discounts ary song 'twas ever sung. An' thet's the hunter's chorus — When the Hounds Give Tongue. You may talk about yer yachtin', an' yer coachin', an' all those, base ball, an' yer tennis, — they're all well enough, I s'pose; 1 6 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. But fer sport thet's fit fer grown folks, jest gimme my ol' gun, An' put me on some likely spot where deer is apt to run, An', tho' the gates of Heaven above to let me thro' was swung, I'd hate to jump my runway When the Hounds Give Tongue. Sometimes when folks comes down to die, they 'low they see strange things, An' hear the twang of heavenly harps, an' swish of angels' wings. I. hope thet when my jig is up, an' I lay clown to die. It jest'll chance thet some one's pack is roamin' summas nigh ; WHEN THE HOUNDS GIVE TONGUE. 17 An' may they yell like all possessed — jest fit to bust a lung, \n I'll ford the River Jordan When the Hounds Give Tongue. 777E PRAYE7i CURE 7N THE P7NES. THEOLOGY IN CAMP. I was on the drive in 'eighty, Workin' under Silver Jack, Which the same has ben in Jackson, Doin' time for some years back ; An' there was a chap amongst us By the name of Robert Waite, Kinder cute, and smart, and tonguey, Guess he was a graduate. He could talk on ary subject. From the Bible down to Hoyle ; An' his words flowed out so easy, — [est as smooth an' slick as oil. THEOLOGY IN CAMP. 19 He was what they call a skeptic, An' he loved to set an' weave Hifalutin words together, Tellin' what he did n't b'lieve. One day, while we all was waitin' For a flood, we set around, Smokin' niggerhead tobacker, An' a-hearin' Bob expound. Hell, he said, was all a humbug, An' he showed as clear as dav Thet the Bible was a fable, An' we 'lowed it looked that way. Meracles," says he, " an' sech like Is too rank for me to stan' ; As for Him they call the Saviour, He was jest a common man." THE PRAYER CURE IX THE T/.YES. " You're a liar ! " some one shouted ; '■ An' you've got to take it back." An' then everybody started — 'Twas the voice of Silver Jack ! An' he cracked his fists together, An' he shucked his coat, and cried, " It was in thet thar religion Thet my mother lived an' died ; An', although I have n't alius Used the Lord exactly white, When I hear a chump abuse him, He must eat his words or fight." Now, this Bob, he warn't no coward. So he answers bold and free, " Stack yer duds and cut yer capers. For there ain't no flies on me." Theology tn camp. An' they fit for forty minutes, An' the lads would whoop and cheer When Jack put mournin' on an eye, Or Bobby split an ear. But at last Jack got him under, An' he slugged him onct or twict, An' Bob straightway acknowledged The divinity of Christ ; But Jack kep' reasonin' with him, Till the poor cuss gin a yell, An' allowed he'd ben mistaken In his views concernin' hell. Then the fierce discussion ended, An' they got up from the ground, An' some one fetched a bottle out An' kindly passed it 'round; 22 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. An' we drank to Jack's religion In a solemn sorter way, An' the spread of infidelity Was checked in camp thet day. ///> A'/VG. 23 JED KING. Do I know Jerry King? Well, I reckon ! Or 1 did when the lad was alive ; But he got his dome bust with a peevy While workin' last spring on the drive. I was in thet same shindy myself, sir, Which accounts for the fact thet I'm lame But we boys, we was all pretty lushy, So there really wan't no one to blame. Was he much in the habit of drinkin' ? Yes, at last; but for more than a year Of the time when we first worked together He would n't tech whiskey nor beer. 24 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. The lads, though they all liked the youngster, Made sport of his teetotal craze ; But they never could weaken or faze him, For Jed he was sot in his ways. Me and him got to be like two brothers. And I knowed why he salted his scads, And always was prudent and savin', And never drunk budge with the lads; For he'd told me of plans for the future, And the hopes and the fears of his life, And the gal down in Maine by the ocean Who hed promised thet she'd be his wife. And he liked to be talkin' about her When we two was together alone, And the home he intended to build her When the time come thet she was his own. JED KIA G. 25 Her folks, so lie said, was agin him. But the gal would be loyal and true While the pine trees was green in the forest, And the skies up above 'em was blue. ( )ne night I was goin' to the village, And along down the trail I met Jed ; In his hand was a bit of a letter, And his face was like thet of the dead. •• Wot is wrong, pard ? " I cried; the boy started. Then drawed hisself up, proud an' tall. " Why, the woman I worshipped," he answered, " Hes ruined my life — thet is all." I'm a middlin' tough sort of a rooster, For the drive is a mighty hard school, But I've picked up some stray chunks of wisdom, And I ain't wot you might call a fool ; 26 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. I know when our friends is took from us, Our tears soothe the grief thet we feel ; But when one we have loved proves a traitor, It's a wound thet is harder to heal. But the lad never weakened nor whimpered ; No, stranger, thet was n't his style ; But I knowed thet the leech of his trouble Was drainin' his heart all the while. He would smile with his lips when his eyes, sir, Hed the look of a death-stricken deer ; And his laugh, when he shouted the loudest, Hed a ring thet I shuddered to hear. And he never wan't no ways the same, sir, 'Till the last time I saw him alive ; And he soon got to gamblin' and drinkin', Like the wildest galoot on the drive. JED KING. We was all of us pretty hard tickets, And blowed in the most thet we earned Hut Jed headed straight for the devil, And, somehow, he could n't be turned. One day we hung up on the Cedar, And the boss got on one of his sprees, And skipped for the neighborin' village. And leaves us to do wot we please. Jed sent for two gallons of whiskey, An' a couple of bottles o' gin. An' every son of his mother Got full clean up to his chin. You kin bet 'twas a wild oP " come-all-ye " Thet we had in the camp thet night ; And wot hed begun in a frolic Wound up in a thunderin' fight ; 28 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE P1XES. And Jed, he got downed in the scrimmage, Nobody don't know by who, But we found him a stiff by the cook camp, With his head busted plum into two. We boys — we was sickened with sorrow, As we looked on thet poor mangled face, An' many's the eye as got leaky, An' there wan't no sound heerd 'round the place; For the lad was the pet of the camp, sir. Though he drank an' raised hell and all that, You kin bet Jerry King was a white man, From his toes to the crown of his hat. Hev I s'picioned who murdered the youngster? I hev, you can gamble yer life : 'Twas the woman, false-hearted an' fickle, As hed promised thet she'd be his wife. JED KING. 29 And thet, sir, 's the end of my story. 'Taint prettily told, but it's true. Ya-as, talkin' does make a chap thirsty ; Thank ye, stranger, — don't keer if J do. 30 THE TA'AVEA' CUKE IN THE TINES. POKER JIM'S DEPOSITION. James Peters, alias " Poker Jim," Upon his oath deposes : " I'm stoppin' now at Price's place, An' me an' ' Hog-back ' Moses An' Jack St. Charles was playin' draw, — Last Saturday, I think, sir, — When ' Baldy ' Koon an' ' Big Jack ' Burke Dropped in to get a drink, sir. " The deal was mine : Jack got three queens, An' Mose, he got three jacks ; An' I — thet's what I'm doin', sir ; I've sworn to tell the facks. POKER JIMS DEPOSITION. 31 Irrelly — which ? Incompetent ? Now, then, you chump, look here ! Shoot off yer mouth like thet again, 'N' I'll bang yer in the ear. All right, yer Honor, I'll come off, — I'm a well-meanin' lad ; But when thet ginger-whiskered cuss Chips in it makes me mad. I'll do jest as yer Honor says ; But please don't let thet pup Say I'm 'incompetent ' again. Because it riles me up. About the row ? I'm gettin' thar, — I'm bound ter tell it straight. I caught three kings, and then I drew The other an' an eight. THE PRAYER CURE IN HIE PINES. We all come in ; Mose bet ten chips, An' then I raised him four ; An' Jack, he kinder smiled and says : ' I'll go yer twenty more.' " We evened up our piles at thet, An' I remarked, ' I call,' When ' Baldy ' told « Big Jack ' he lied, An' I heard suthin' fall. Oh, no ! I did n't see no blow ; An' I jest 'low thet Koon — He alius was an awk'ard cuss — Fell over the spittoon. " Wal, yes, his nose was broke ; but then, I can't tell to a dot How thet come 'round, for jest then I Was rakin' in the pot, POKER JIMS DEPOSITION. 33 I reckon. Jedge, you know how 'tis : When you sets in ter play, You has ter mind yer knittin', or — What's thet ? Step down ? Good day." 34 THE PRAYER CURE EV THE PINES. WHAR THE CORN JUICE FLOWS. My son, afore you leave your home, I want ter say ter ' you Thar's various kinds of pitfalls dug ter let young roosters through ; So open wide yer eyes an' ears, an' bridle well yer tongue, An' don't forgit the world is old, while you are very young. Be neat, but never dress ter kill — of all the orts thet's strewed About the airth, the poorest thing is what they call a dude; WHAR THE CORN JUICE FLOWS. 35 An' don't be " tough " an' wear yer hat a-tilted on yer nose, An' don't be forever loafin' Whar the Corn Juice Flows. I know you think I don't know much ; but take a fool's advice. An' never go ter a saloon ter play at cards or dice ; Fer tho' I don't hold playin' cards itself as any crime, 1 know these bar-room games use up a heap of cash an' time ; An' every little while, ye know, the reg'lar drinks must come, Until yer head goes swimmin' on a reservoy o' rum. 36 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. Sometimes you'll jaw about the game an' likely come ter blows ; Fer yer don't know what'll happen Whar the Corn Juice Flows. They say a wise man takes his drink an' goes about his biz, Tho' I think he's a wiser one who lets it be whar 'tis. Still bar-room talk an' sech does more than drink ter spile a man, Fer ther mind absorbs more pizen than the stomach ever can ; So ef you will indulge, my lad, don't hang about the bar, But down yer booze an' plank yer dues, an' git away from thar ; WHAR Till CORN JUICE FLOWS. $) I'ti barrin' liquor men themselves, thar's no one ever rose rhet made it his headquarters Whar the Corn Juice Flows. I s'pose this kinder talk from me may sound a little odd, Bein' as how I've alius drank my share of forty-rod ; But ef I had ter live agin the years thet's past an' gone, I 'd undertake ter organize a temperance club of one ; Fer now that you are leavin' home ter steer yer own canoe, Some theories I hev alius held is sorter fallin' through. 38 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. An' I'd feel a good deal better ef my son, afore he goes, Would boycott all the places Whar the Corn Juice Flows. nor. .-,<) DOC. Sell thet thar dog? No, stranger, I sh'd rather reckon not ; I would n't trade thet pup, sir, Fer a city house an' lot. His breed ? Well, thar, you've got me, But he ain't no fancy sort ; His pedigree, like his tail, ye see, Is purty middlin' short. Yaas, he's a fairish watch dog, An' mejum good with stock ; But he ain't got no gret talent, — Jest an' av'rage dog is Doc. 40 THE PRAYER CURE IX THE PINKS. Six years ago come winter, I'd business down ter Clyde, An' I bought the pup an' fetched him up Fer our little boy thet died. Ye see, the kid was lonesome, An' natchul enough, you'll say, Fer our very nearest neighbor Was livin' ten mile away ; An' so I told the youngster, Ter kind of cherk him up. When I went ter town I'd rustle aroun' An' try an' git him a pup. Them days 'twas quite a journey From my place down ter Clyde, Tho' I'd the best o' hosses, 'Twa'n't less'n a three days' ride. DOC. 41 A week from the clay I started, When I drawed up at my door, I seen my Grace with a look on her face Thet froze my heart to the core. Poor Jack lay sick with fever; An' he had n't spoke a word Fer nigh two days, Grace told me, Nor hardly moved or stirred. When I went in to see him, He sorter rousted up. An' he looks at me and he says, says he, " Say, Dad, did you git the pup ? " I hurried back ter the wagon, An' brung in the little dog; The kid smiled once an' hugged him, An' then sunk back in a sog. 42 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. An' I got on ter my knees, sir, By the side of my faithful wife, Ter ask the Lord ef he could n't afford Ter spare us thet one child's life. But he died in the early evenin', With his arms around thet pup; An' we — this dust a flyin" Jest natchully chokes me up. Thet thar's his little grave, sir, Whar ye see the white stun block By the big elm tree. An' thet, ye see, Is the reason I won't sell Doc. THE RUINOUS RAT. 43 THE RUINOUS RAT. AN IDYL OF SAULT STE. MARIE. It was late in the fall Of the year 'eighty-two, While me and Ned Hall Run a bar at the " Soo," Thet we met with financial disaster In a manner quite queer to my view. Ned bought a trained rat, Thet he greatly did prize, Named Max. He was fat, An' of uncommon size. And the tricks thet thar rodent performed, sir, Occasioned unbounded surprise. 44 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. The mornin' Ned brought The cuss into the store I kicked, but he thought Thet our sales 'ud be more, . With the rat for a great moral side-show, Doin' difficult feats by the score. At quarter past ten I sot readin' the news, When in come three men For their regular booze, An' poured out their pizen — an' scooted 'Thout drinkin' or payin' their dues. I was flustered an' mad, An' I nat'rally swore ; Then ol' Kunnel Ladd THE RUINOUS RAT. 45 An' one or two more Dropped in, an' fell over themselves In their haste to get back thro' the door. Then young Lawyer Guile Kinder meandejed in, \w' remarked with a smile Thet he'd take some Tom gin, An' then shrieked an' jumped out thro' the winder. Says I, "This is gettin' too thin." 'Twould be slightin' the facts To say I was riled, For these frequent fool acts Hed driv me jest wild, An' I swore thet I'd alter the programme. Or somebody's face 'ud get spiled. 46 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. Soon Sylvester Waite An' Andrew B. Moore Remarked "whiskey straight" As they entered the door, An' then slid; but I collared ol' Andy, An' slammed him down on to the floor. Then I choked him a bit. An' begged leave to inquire, Was he tuk with a fit, Or jest goin' to a fire? In short, to what might I attribute His evident haste to retire? He gasped, "Look at that!'* In accents of fear, An' I saw the blamed rat THE RUINOUS RAT 47 Waltzin' 'round on his ear, In a way calculated to rattle Any gent as was well on his beer. An' the colors he wore Was a fright, for thet pale- Li vered painter next door, Alexander McHale, Hed striped him green, blue, an' vermilion, And gilded the end of his tail. Our patrons, ye see. Twigged the hand-painted rat, Which suggested D. T., An' they lit out of that For the doctor shop down on the corner, With the speed of a dog-hunted cat. THE rRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. Thet scoundrel, McHale, An' thet durned rodent Max, With his luminous tail, Hed kinder gone snacks To discourage the men as was willin' To help swell the revenue tax. An' thet is n't all, An' the rest is wuss yet ; For they rented a hall, Did thet rat-frightened set, An' whooped up a temp'rance revival, Which was rough on our traffic, you bet. An' then me an' Ned Hed a business-like chat, An' the varmint was fed THE RUINOUS RAT. 4., To a large brindled cat ; For I hold, sir, a gent as sells liquor Hes no use for a college-bred rat. 50 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. POLITICS IN CAMP. You ask why I'm lookin' so surly, An' why I am down from the camp At an hour in the mornin' so early? . Wal, I'm here to consult Doctor Gamp. Is thar sickness in camp ? I shud snicker ! The crew is all ailin' but me ; An' I'm down by the sunlight's fust flicker For the rooster as slings an M. D. Is it suthin' thet's ketchin'? Not now, sir; Tho' I gather from what the lads tell Thet it was at the start ; but I 'low, sir, Thet contagion is checked for a spell, POLfTfCS IN CAMP. 5 1 Last evenin', while I was out walkin' Down to Mulligan's place on the flat, The boys got to blowin' and talkin' 'Bout the tariff an' sech kinder chat. Buck Mansur, he argyed protection, An' Hagan, he spouted free trade, Till the varmints all over thet section Was skeered by the din thet they made. For Hagan allowed thet the tariff Was a git up to grind down the poor ; An' Mansur told how we would fare, if The tariff on lumber was lower. They argyed the duty on iron, An' jawed on the tariff on wool. Till Hagan said Mansur was lyin", An' Mansur called Hagan a fool. 52 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. Then Hagan he flew in a passion, An' lent Mansur one on the beak ; An' then, the lads say, the discussion Took a personal turn, so to speak. For a second it seemed thet protection, " The bulwark of labor," was bust ; But Mansur he got in the next one. An' free trade was laid in the dust. Then they clinched, — which was whar Hagan missed it. For he quickly went down underneath ; But the cuss kinder wriggled an' twisted Till he got Mansur's ear in his teeth. Poker Jimmy saw Mansur's ear bleedin", Which caused him to rave an' to swear, An' he reached out as though he was needin" A handful of Hagan's back hair ; POLITICS /.\ CAMP 53 This rousted up Terrence McKeevy; " Lave the hair of him be ! " shouted Ted ; An' he lambasted Jim with a peevy, Just to emphasize what he hed said. Then turned for a good crack at Mansur, An' chanced to bark Bully Burke's shin ; Burke gathered him up by his pants, sir, An' throwed his heels over his chin ; An' then, pard, I hev a suspicion They hed lively times, for thet camp Looks like the back yard of perdition. An' the boys is all callin' for Gamp. Bad cases? W-a-1, no; but Hank Keller Has lost a good share of his thumb, An' I doubt some ef Poker Jim's smeller Will ever get back into plumb. 54 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. Hagan's jaw, too, is ruther lop-sided, An' Mansur's head summat puffed out, An' Scudder's ear, whar he collided With an axe-helve, is all spread about. When men works for me, sir, I'm willin' They shall hev their fun all the year 'round, But I don't like the boys to go spillin' Each other all over the ground. Thar's a new rule in my camp this mornin' (Though I b'lieve in free speech from way back), The man thet yips "tariff " has warnin' Thet he's got to fight me, — Silver Jack ! IN VARIOUS MOODS. Because the nightingale, Crown Prince of Song, In Melody's sweet realm hath not a peer, Must other birds be dumb the whole year long, That naught but perfect notes may greet the ear I Not so — some lowly singer of the wood With song less grand, a faint and faulty strain, May bring some troubled heart a happier mood, Or wake some buried joy to life again. 56 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. UNCLE JACK. Remember Jack Hemingway ? dear old Jack ? I should say I did ! How the name brings back The days when the skies took a deeper blue, And the autumn sunset a ruddier hue ; When the fields of June wore a brighter green, And the moonlight shone with a softer sheen ! How the seasons have sped since you and I, Barefoot urchins about knee-high, Watched for the old man coming down From his hillside farm on his way to town, In the checkered homespun he used to wear, With his square box-wagon and buckskin mare, That livened her somewhat moderate gait At the old man's frequent " Git along, Kate, — Heddup ! " IX CLE JACK 57 Every day old Jack came down W i tli garden-truck for the folks in town ; \nd often he brought a toothsome store ( )f farm-life dainties for half a score ( )f lads like us, who had won a part ( >f the kind old farmer's three-ton heart — Apple, and cherry, and plum, and nut, Maple sugar, and Lord knows what ; But better than all his gifts by half Were his kindly greeting and wholesome laugh. Ball and marbles were laid aside, Venturesome feats were left untried, Leap-frog and shinny could always wait, When we heard the old man's " Git along, Kate, — Heddup!" Close, some called him, who did not know The wealth of kindness that lay below 58 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. His wrinkled visage and big, gray eyes, His uncouth manners and homespun guise. Close, old playmate ! he was, indeed : Close to the heels of a neighbor's need, Close to Nature and Nature's God, Close to the path the Master trod. True, whenever he earned a cent He was rather particular how 'twas spent ; True, he never contributed much To the Cannibal Island Fund and such ; But he who was likely to run aground On the shoals of poverty often found A ready helper in Uncle Jack In putting his craft on another tack ; And oft when the ground was white with snow, And the widow's fire was burning low, Or the poor man's larder of flour was bare, A gaunt old man and a rawboned mare UNCLE JACK. 59 Sped silently forth at dead of night, Like spectres grim to the pale moonlight, With food or fuel, a generous freight, A low voice muttering, " Git along, Kate, — Heddup!" Eighty years to a day old Jack Followed along life's devious track, Scorning hardship and spurning rest. Toiling for those he loved the best. But there comes a time when the strongest yield, And he fell one morn in the harvest field ; They bore him home, and the old man lay In a hopeless stupor all that day, And died with the sunset's waning light, But just as his soul was poised for flight, His gray eyes beamed for a moment's space, And he looked in his good wife's tearful face. 6o THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. " I must go," he said, "for it's gittin' late, An' the mare is waitin' down by the gate, So good-bye, dearie. Git along, Kate, — Heddup! " And so he went on his final trip, With these homely words on his ashen lip. And, strange to say, when they went to care Next morn for the rawboned, buckskin mare, The good beast lay by her manger dead ! " He's taken old Kate along," they said. And I think he had. Say, friend, do you Believe that horses have souls ? I do ; And more than that, I am satisfied They'll have their place on the other side. My views of the future are quite unique, So the parson told me one day last week; And he's right, no doubt; though just why 'tis That my guess is n't as good as his, UNCLE JACK. 61 I 1 an't for the life of me make out. But the parson has n't the slightest doubt That heaven's a place where the chosen few- Will stand around with nothing to do But wear good clothes, and sing and pray In a stately, orthodox kind of way Through all eternity. That might go For a couple of billion years or so, But after that, as it seems to me, The more unstable saints might be A little inclined to fret, and claim That the exercises were getting tame. Now I maintain that our home on high Is a comfortable place, where you and I, Plain, homespun fellows, with sober views, Unused to grandeur and cushioned pews, Will feel at ease. Some planet fraught With the blisses that earth might bring if naught 62 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. Of folly and greed, disease and sin, Were ever permitted to enter in. And I feel assured, when I'm called up there. That a tiny maiden with flaxen hair, And brown eyes brimming with laughing light. Will meet me just as she did each night When she lived on earth ; and I'm sure I'll see My old friends, just as they used to be, With the look, and manner, and trick of speech That I've grown to consider a part of each. But Paradise, somehow, won't seem complete Till, jogging along down the gold-paved street Of the Holy City of Love and Light, Uncle Jack Hemingway rides into sight, With his homespun garb and his genial smile, Good-naturedly urging his mare the while To quicken her staid, deliberate gait, With the old familiar, "Git along, Kate, — Heddup ! " LIFE'S GAME. 63 LIFE'S GAME. We strolled across the moonlit fields ; The air was laden with perfume, And all the earth seemed filled with mirth. Moonlight, and love, and apple bloom ; She raised her eyes of azure hue And all her soul was shining thro', For hearts were trumps. But ere the trees bore fruit there came A rival suitor to her door, With jewels rare to deck her hair, Of gold and silver muckle store. She slew the love her lips confessed, And wore his gems upon her breast — Diamonds were trumps. 64 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. Maddened with grief, I rashly strove To drown my woes in ruddy wine ; My worldly pelf, my hopes, myself, I sacrificed at Bacchus' shrine. My days were dregs, my nights were foam, And ev'ry club house was my home, For clubs were trumps. Old Time and I sit vis-a-vis, Outside the winter's wind doth moan ; No friend is near to aid or cheer, And I must play my hand alone. The cards are dealt, the trump is turned, Grim gamester, thou the stake hast earned, For spades are trumps. THE OLD AND TNI: NEW. 65 THE OLD AND THE NEW. The clock strikes twelve ; comrades, arise, Fill up each glass and drink with me, E'en while I speak the Old Year dies, — Here's to his sacred memory. He brought us cares, he brought gray hairs, Smiles, tears, and joy, and sorrow ; But drifting snow shall ebb and Mow Across his grave to-morrow ; And, as we bring our cups in line, Our teardrops mingle with the wine. 66 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. Fill up your glasses once again. Here's to the New Year — oh ! may he Be brightest in the radiant train Of golden years that are to be ; May Justice reign, and Freedom gain Some genius-crowned defender; May Art advance, and Truth's keen lance Strike clown the vain pretender; May Wisdom's sun diffuse its light, And bigots hide like birds of night. ENCOURAGEMENT. 67 ENCOURAGEMENT. The sun was kissing the sea good night, As down on the beach we strayed ; Each wave at the parting caress of light Blushed deep, like a bashful maid. As she stood in her girlhood's beauty rare Looking out o'er the ocean grand, While the sea breeze played with her golden hair, I tremblingly caught her hand. If thou wert my own. O peerless maid, Thy smiles would shed," quoth I ; Then paused, of her anger half afraid. She blushed and heaved a sigh. 68 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. " On the dreary path of my life," said I. " Thy smiles fair one would shed," — Again I paused, and again with a sigh, She blushed and hung her head. " Thy smiles would shed " — and my heart sank low With a terror undefined ; " Oh, pshaw ! " laughed she, " let the wood shed go, And say what is on your mind." PENS// 69 PENSEE. They say the shades of those who pass Death's mystic river o'er Anon return to scenes and friends, Beloved of them of yore. They tell of wondrous secrets learned From those whose souls abide In that dim, distant land that lies Beyond the Stygian tide. 1 listen, unbelieving still ; For were thy spirit free To leave Death's realm, I know that thou Wouldst sometimes come to me; 7° THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. And hold some friendly token up To glad my yearning sight, Or clasp the hand I sadly stretch Into the empty night. THE TRUANT. 7 1 THE TRUANT. I tarried in dreamland this morning, and lo! I saw on a cloud that hung over the west Some school children romping, with faces aglow, On their wind-drifted campus with juvenile zest. Their laughter rang out and was borne to my ear, As they ran with light step o'er the vaporous plain, And the sound of their voices, so bell-like and clear, Brought me back to the clays of my childhood again. But I started and gasped, and cried out in surprise. When the bright-tinted picture swung nearer to view, And I saw, through the tears that welled up to my eyes. The mates of my youth in that rollicking crew. 72 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. There was Tom, my old seatmate, his face brimming o'er With the mischief that lurked in his brown curly head, •And good Godfrey Hilliard, and bad Bobby Moore, And Jerry, and Byron, and brave-hearted Fred. There was little Nell Drew and her big brother Ben, Who died like a hero in Custer's last fight ; And sweet Nettie Chase, looking rosy as when We found a red ear at the husking that night. And now came the teacher, with time-frosted hair, And the old, kindly gleam in his sober, gray eyes ; And the loud, tinkling summons rang out on the air, And the group disappeared thro' a rift in the skies. 'Tis the breakfast bell ringing — I wake with a sigh, To wonder what lessons of infinite worth My schoolmates are learning, up there in the sky, While I'm "playing hookey" down here on the earth. A MORNING SHOWER. 73 A MORNING SHOWER. The ruthful skies at last have leave to bless A parching world with gracious bounteousness, And rain-clouds, drifting o'er the mountain's crown, Unstinting pour their benefaction down ; The thirsty earth drinks in the welcome flood, And odors sweet arise from field and wood ; On hill and mead a livelier hue is seen, The dusty roadside dons a brighter green, And ev'ry blade upon the sterile heath Its weight of jeweled drops is bowed beneath. And now the clouds, their work of mercy done, Roll slowly back before the rising sun, That warms with quick'ning ray the grateful sod, While radiant Nature smiles her thanks to God. 74 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. LLORENTA. Thou wert a blossom beautiful and sweet, That bloomed a space to glad our worldly sight ; But envious angels thought it was not meet That earth should wear a tiower so pure and bright, And bore thee hence on noiseless wing and fleet, To deck the bosom of the Infinite. LIFE. 75 LIFE. Dining and sleeping, Laughing and weeping. Sighing for some new toy : Loving and hating, Wooing and mating, Chasing the phantom, Joy. Losing and winning, Praying and sinning, Seeking a higher life ; Hope and repining, Shadow and shining, Care, and worry, and strife. 7f» THE PRAYER CUKE IN THE PINES. Hoarding and wasting", Loitering, hasting, Missing the golden mark ; Praising and flouting, Trusting and doubting — Taking a leap in the dark. A WILLING VICTIM. 77 A WILLING VICTIM. " Delusion, mockery, and snare," so spake Of beauty some dyspeptic sage or bard. If this be truth, I pray the Fates will make The snare so strong that, try however hard, 'Twill mock my weak essays its mesh to break, Then set Delusion o'er each sense to guard. Thus free my choice in Beauty's arms to lie, Snared, mocked, deluded, till the hour I die. 78 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. VALE.* I had not thought the day we last did meet, Those friendly hands that in my own I pressed Would now be crossed, their ev'ry task complete. In dumb submission o'er a pulseless breast. I call to mind a pleasant summer's day, When thou and I, by aimless fancy led, Strayed o'er the verdant fields, and found our way Into the sad and silent city of the dead. There lay a friend who slept, as thou dost now, In earth's embrace, and, moved by mem'ries fond, We paused beside his grave, and questioned how He fared in that dim, unknown realm beyond. * Written upon hearing of the death of the author's friend and schoolmate, Fred L. Rowe. VALE. 79 Thy sun of life, long ere it reached its noon, Dropped like a meteor to the darkened west ; And hast thou read the mystic page so soon ? Or — hast thou only found calm, dreamless rest? Sweet be thy sleep, — if endless sleep be all ; Joyous thy waking, if indeed there be Life, love, and hope beyond the inky wall Of cloud that veils death's darksome mystery. To us who mourn thee, there are left behind Two treasures thou hast won 'midst pain and strife : A memory sweet, a sermon to thy kind Writ on the pages of thy blameless life. And now farewell : yet ere I turn away To busy scenes, with worldly throngs to blend, This humble tribute on thy grave I'd lay. Thou honest man, thou staunch and faithful friend. 8o THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. MY SECOND LOVE. My brierwood pipe is well alight, The fire upon my hearth is bright ; Ensconced within my easy chair, I watch the forms that float in air, Amid the filmy clouds of white. What tho' her vision haunt my sight ? No power has she my peace to blight, Or taint my fragrant kiss, ma chere, My brierwood pipe. MY SECOND LOVE. For once I wooed this witching sprite, — With eyes that shamed the stars at night, And cheeks abloom and golden hair, — Only to find her false as fair; So I wed thee, my heart's delight, My brierwood pipe. 82 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. WHEN THE LEAVES TURN RED. The year has rolled around again, October's artist hand Once more has dyed the forest leaves and glorified the land, And once again alone I stray within this wooded shade. Where in the days of long ago, a happy child, I played ; The same old trees, the same old paths, the same small, noisy stream, — I throw myself upon the ground and idly sit and dream, WHEN THE LEAVES TURN RED. 83 A sound of childish revelry comes riding on the breeze. A score of jolly phantoms flit among the ancient trees, Andlo! I see my old-time mates, their faces wreathed in smiles. As when we all together trooped adown these forest aisles, While at our noisy roistering the timid partridge fled, And startled squirrels chattered in the branches over- head. Then we made the stately chestnut rain its wealth upon our heads. And searched for shining pebbles in the shallow brook- let beds; We crowned our girlish favorites with garlands made of leaves. And frolicked till the god of day had gathered in his sheaves. 84 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. Each heart o'erflowed with happiness, and ev'ry flaxen head Was filled with mirth and mischief when the leaves turned red. O, comrades of those golden days, our erstwhile happy band Is broken, scattered far and wide by Fate's relentless hand ; And some of you wear priestly robes, some bear a warrior's scars, And some have gone beyond the seas, and some beyond the stars; But once a year you gather here, the living and the dead, And I greet you all in spirit when the leaves turn red. t/OT QUITE so BAD. NOT QUITE SO BAD. A good old lady, grimly Orthodox From her cap's border to her gaiter's sole, Sat one day by her fireside darning socks, Intently listening to the scanty dole Of news the village doctor brought ; and when He said the Universalists had bought A lot in town, and divers wealthy men Had pledged the means to build a church, she caught Her breath in horror, and then, finding speech, Denounced them as most vicious and depraved, — " Good Lord ! " gasped she, " why, they're the folks that teach That all mankind will in the end be saved!" 86 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. " Yes," said the doctor, with a twinkling eye ; " But these, I hear, somewhat unlike the rest, Hold that the unredeemed must roast and fry In sulphurous flames, by pain and woe oppressed, Ten thousand billion years for every sin That they commit while on this mundane sphere. Ere they may hope a pardon full to win, And mingle with the saints, like us, my dear. That gives them quite a while to burn, you see, And make Gehenna ring with wailings sad." The good dame looked relieved. "Ah! well," quoth she, " If that's their doctrine, 'tis n't quite so bad." TlfK FIRE M'RXS LOW. 87 THE FIRE BURNS LOW. The tire burns low ; upon the grate The dying rlame, with deathless hate, A hundred shafts of quiv'ring light Sends forth to stab its victor, Night, The while I sit and meditate. A myriad spectres congregate Around my hearth-stone desolate, And silent pass before my sight. The fire burns low. THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. The long-expected guest is late, With folded hands I sit and wait ; My heart grows chill ; time's tedious flight The dismal deathwatch tells, and white. Weird, shadowy hands gesticulate, — The fire burns low. LOVE'S VICTORY. 89 LOVE'S VICTORY. I call thy name ; a rustle light, As of a swallow in his flight, Breaks on my ear, and now and then A breathless whisper comes, and when My eyes essay to pierce the gloom A shadowy presence fills the room. Yet not by what 1 see and hear Am I convinced that thou art near, But by that sense of peace and rest That gently calms my stormy breast, That tranquil joy to me unknown Till thy life's pathway met my own. go THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. And now upon my brow I feel Thy fond caress. My senses reel, My pulses thrill ; that touch as light As summer winds awakes to-night The joys that into being sprung When Hope was new and Love was young. Fond mem'ries span the gulf of years ; The fires long quenched by bitter tears Burst forth anew ; mine, mine in truth. The secret of eternal youth ; For lo ! I hear a voice which saith, " A love like ours may baffle death." ENDLESS PUNISHMENT. 91 ENDLESS PUNISHMENT. In the hush of the night the young wife fought With her darksome woe and her mad'ning fears Alone with her dead and one terrible thought. That chilled her bosom and froze her tears. One ray of hope and I well could brook The pangs of parting, my dreary lot, — But the words, O God, in Thy Holy Book — The doom of the soul that believeth not! " She hid her face in the breast of the dead To shut out the vision, but all in vain. Of that gentle spirit by demons led To its seething prison of endless pain. 92 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. They had shared each joy in the by-past years, Together had traversed the vale of woe ; What were Heaven to her, if his bitter tears. Unceasing, forever and aye must flow ? Would her pride of a crown o'ershadow her love ? Could she drown with the notes of her harp his plaint ? Must she change to a fiend in the world above To wear the shining robe of a saint ? Thus musing, she lay on the marble breast ; Thus musing, chose freely to share his fate ; To her true, warm heart the steel she pressed, And her spirit hastened to join its mate. You say 'twas the act of her frenzied mood ; That reason was shrouded in sorrow's pall. Not so — she was true to her womanhood ; She believed and she loved, and that was all. 77/E SMOKER'S FAREWELL. 93 THE SMOKER'S FAREWELL. Good-bye, old pipe — a long farewell ; Tis hard from friends to sever ; But memories of thee shall dwell Within my bosom ever. Thy wreaths of white enshrouding me, The air with perfume filling, A magic cure-all seemed to be, Each throb of anguish stilling. A dreamy languor, passing sweet, Came o'er my senses stealing, For ev'ry bruise a balm complete, For ev'ry hurt a healing. 94 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. So I aver with all my heart. Small recking who may scout thee, That care is cheated where thou art. Joy, incomplete without thee. Yet we must part" — ah, doom of woe ! That thou and I must sever ; These longing lips again may know Thy fragrant kiss — ah, never. I would not give thee up at first. Consigning to perdition The man that breathed the thought, that curst, Tyrannical physician. But later, with a clearer view I've scanned the situation ; 'Tis plain that if I died through you, 'Twould spoil your reputation. THE SMOKER'S FAREWELL, 95 And so, old friend, with many a sigh, In tribulation dire. I bid thee now a last good-bye, My much loved bowl of brier. 96 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. ON WINNISQUAM. On Winnisquam my light canoe Drifts idly half the June day through, The while I look with half-shut eyes To where the azure of the skies Blends with the mountain's deeper hue ; Or gazing dreamily into The waters, pure and clear as dew, I watch the ripples fall and rise On Winnisquam. ON WINNISQUAM. 97 Green are the shores and fair to view, Content and peace the air imbue ; A low-hung cloud of comfort lies Upon the waves, and worry dies, And carking care may not pursue On Winnisquam. 98 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. FALSE HOPES. Let me see. — 'tis exactly three weeks to a day Since my latest effusion was sent on its way, Yet never a word does the editor write In response to my letter, — it angers me quite. What the trouble can be I can't really make out ; But 'tis very annoying, this living in doubt In regard to the fate of my verses. Before He has been most remarkably prompt; nevermore Than four or five days, or a week at the most. Have elapsed ere they made the return trip by post. With a neat printed missive, wherein was expressed The anguish that flamed in the editor's breast. FALSE HOPES. 99 When it dawned on his mind that my essays at rhyme Would be ''unavailable" just at that time. But softly. I have it ! — whate'er they decline They promptly return, so this poem of mine Is accepted. By Jove ! what a consummate dunce I was that the thought did n't strike me at once. "Pis the goal I've been seeking for many months past. And, in spite of my failures, I've "got there" at last. The future looks brighter, — chum, have a cigar, — Do they pay on acceptance. I wonder ? — ah, ha ! Here's the letter I've longed for: no doubt there's a check. Well, my best suit is shiny, my topcoat's a wreck. And 'tis getting high time that some succor should come ; 'Twill be inightv convenient, whatever the sum. Pass the paper knife, chum, by your side on the rack. Great Caesar ! the infernal thing has come back ! THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. SENCE HULDY JUMPED HER JOB. The grass is wavin' on the hills, the bobolink is here, An' yet, somehow, his singin' don't sound the same this year ; The roses out beyend the house a-noddin' in the breeze, Don't look so neat nor smell so sweet, — I b'lieve the very bees Hum out of tune to spite me, an' the guinys yell all day, An' the ducks an' geese keep squawkin' in a aggervatin' way. The airth looks gray an' lonesome-like, the sky a dirty black, An' all the 'tarnal universe seems sorter out o' whack; An' I set here with droopin' head an' rassle with a sob To see the change that's come about sence Huldy jumped her job. SENCR HULDY JUMPED HER JOB. 1O1 The hired man that went, last year, a-singin' to his work Is slouchin' 'round the place as grim an' silent as a Turk : The folks about the house that once was chipper all the while Have dis-remembered, long ago, the way to crack a smile ; The childun, when they come from school, don't romp about an' shriek, But walk as slow an' act as tho' 'twas Sunday all the week ; The little chickens in the yard chirp in a lonesome way, The tabby cat is lank an' thin, an' mews the live-long day, The cosset lamb forgits to play, an' my Scotch collie, Rob, Looks meachin' as a common cur sence Huldy jumped her job. 102 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. Oh ! how I mourn the good ol' times — the days that now has fled, When I could get upholstered with good, wholesome Graham bread, An' meat that was n't overdone nor soaked clean thro' with grease, An' good, hot gems that would n't weigh a pound or more apiece. Alas I I ne'er shall see agin the like of Huldy Brown ; 1 cuss the day I ever tried to cut her wages clown ; Too late I came to know her worth — my race is nearly run, For bass-wood pies an' dumb-bell rolls their perfect work has done ; Next year the daisies o'er my head will gayly bend an' bob, Dyspepsy's claimed me for her own sence Huldy jumped her job. A STOLEN A'/SS. THE STOLEN KISS. The deed is done — ah! cruel one. In abject fear of meeting The lurid lightning of her glance, All mute I stand and look askance, My timid heart scarce beating. Oh, dread suspense ! If mine offence Were one to be forgiven, I'd sue for pardon at her feet, And do what penance she deemed meet, As 'twere decreed of Heaven. 104 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. I lift my eyes to hers ; surprise And indignation glow there ; Her red lips move, her voice rings clear, These awful words salute my ear : " I think you're horrid — so there ! " .1/}' AUTOGRAPH. 105 MY AUTOGRAPH. My autograph she begged the night When first her beauty filled my sight ; " Not just your name, you know," quoth she " But something nice besides, maybe A poem or a maxim trite." I yielded to the witching light Of her soft eyes, and did indite, Entwined with flowers of poesy, My autograph. io6 THE PRAYER CURE IA T THE PINES. She perches on my knee to-night, And in her eyes, so clear and bright, The old light dwells — ah, woe is me ! My check-book in her hand I see, And once again she begs me write My autograph. TWO PICTURES 107 TWO PICTURES. A wee, wee maid in the tangled grass, And her lap is filled with flowers, And her voice rings out in a gleeful shout, As she tosses the clover heads about, And they fall in bloomy showers. A wee, wee maid in a darkened room, And her hands are filled with flowers ; We call in her ears, but she never hears, Nor catches the diamond gleam of tears \s they fall in crystal showers. io8 THE PRAYER CURE IN THE PINES. BETH. She went away, and home was strangely still ; The April sky grew yet more dull and gray ; The birds ne'er sang such cheerless measures till She went away. A heavy mist upon the lowland lay, And gruesome shadows on the verdant hill, And night time was less dismal than the day. Into my dreary life she came to fill The void my aching heart had known for aye, And ev'ry hour was gemmed with joy until She went away. IBRARY OF CONGRESS i .Minium a 016 165 432 2 ©