S. fflltlUam pn|ie 
 
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 Book, ?4-2.&M^ 
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 GOIVRIGin' DEPOSIT. 
 
THE AUTHOR 
 
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 OR 
 
 THE NEW CREATION 
 
 BY 
 
 J. WILLIAM POPE 
 
 WRITTEN IN 1881 
 ILLUSTRATED BY HIS ARTIST FRIENDS 
 
 Copyrighted 1914 by 
 H. B. BROCKETT, JR. 
 
 PITTSBURGH, PA. 
 
 3ROCKETT PRESS 
 
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 |K With the permission of Uncle Will, to 
 
 dedicate this little book to whom I choose 
 I therefore inscribe it to a man of sterling 
 qualities, a prince among men, and my 
 
 B friend ft 
 
 I JOHN HANCOCK NICHOLSON. i 
 
 Q ". : The Publisher. ft 
 
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 « SEP 22 1914 K 
 
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 2 Pittsburgh, Pa., January 18, 1882. S 
 
 9 S 
 
 n My friends: Q 
 
 While there was "no money in it,** you Q 
 
 have very kindly given of your time and skill 
 to the beautifying of this weak endeavor to 
 set forth a few new ideas, and perhaps in a 
 pleasing way, of what might have been had 
 it been given the human race a second oppor- 
 ^ tunity to people a world with sinless flesh; for 
 
 Q which kindness, believe that you shall be ever j|| 
 
 fl held in kind remembrance by ■ 
 
 f| Your friend, Q 
 
 X J. William Pope 
 
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 M With whatsoe er of hidden mystery— 
 
 )5 From mortals hidden yet— O, blessed Muse, 
 
 M Thou deignest this humble effort to invest, S 
 
 j^ 1 pray thee let it be with love so fraught, j|| 
 
 Q That though the passer, being blind of soul, jJ 
 May read, and so divine our good intent. 
 
 9 
 
 Si That what is written may as graven be w 
 
 M Upon their fleshly hearts, and shining there, g 
 
 Q Light up the path on which they fl 
 
 M thoughtless tread, jj| 
 
 )k Until their souls through vanity's dense gloom, |K 
 
 jjj Beholding danger, halt, and turning back, jjr 
 
 S; Begin anew their pilgrimage toward life. S 
 
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 GEORGE HETZEL A. S. WALL 
 
 J. R. WOODWELL H. WEGNER 
 
 M. B. LEISER F. J. BUSSMAN 
 
 A, F. KING 
 W. H. H. ALGEO 
 
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 ilattria. 
 
 'Twas in a land of fruits and flowers— 
 And where the sun shines ever fair; 
 Where birds make vocal trees and bowers, 
 
 And orange bloom perfumes the air, 
 And on a spot where sleeps a stream, 
 
 Ne'er ruffled save when swallows pass, 
 Where maids voluptuous, idly dream, 
 IK And view themselves as in a glass — 
 
 }l Maticia dwelt, whose placid face 
 
 j^ And lovely form, were Beauty's thought 
 
 Q And handiwork, for every grace 
 
 Q Angelic was upon her wrought. 
 
 jK Her voice in converse or in song, 
 
 S Bound listening ears with witchment strong. 
 
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 W Her hair was like to golden threads, J3 
 
 \l Her brow and neck like drifted snow; Q 
 
 Q The glistening dew which evening sheds, fl 
 
 Her deep blue eyes could far out-glow. Q 
 
 w The rose and lily strove the while S 
 
 2 Upon her cheeks for mastery; Jk 
 
 W Her lips grew redder at each smile, yl 
 
 Q And pearls peeped out most brilliantly. |K 
 
 jK Her movements o'er the velvet lawn, )Qr 
 
 5i Were like the zephyr's gentle tread. § 
 
 yl The violet she trod upon, Q 
 
 Q But only bowed its beauteous head. fl 
 
 y If with the gods she could have been, Q 
 
 fj Her title would have been The Queen. M 
 
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 •THE BIG ROUND MOON LIKE SILVER SHIELD 
 HUNG IN THE FAR OFF CLOUDLESS BLUE" 
 
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 ¥ Maticia passed her nineteenth Spring, ^ 
 
 \l And June, all wreathed in flowers had come; M 
 
 Q The nightingale began to sing, jj| 
 
 fl The insect tribes gave out their hum, Q 
 
 w The big round moon like silver shield, w 
 
 5[ Hung in the far off cloudless blue. 5 
 
 W The darkness vanquished, had to yield, m 
 
 it M 
 
 n And into hidden nooks withdrew. Q 
 
 jjj Thus was the scene at mid of night, X 
 
 ^ When wrapped in sleep, the beauty lay U 
 
 y Upon a couch of purest white, Jj[ 
 
 U Hung round with costly drapery. 
 
 Q No dream of love was her's, for she Q 
 
 Q Had never felt such ecstacy. 
 
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 B* Her latticed casement stood ajar, * 
 
 And through it streamed a moonlit glare, if 
 
 W More seeming soft, and whiter far Q 
 Than any bleached fabric there. 
 Maticia's cheek upon one hand 
 Reposed, the other lay at rest 
 Upon her side ; her nightrobe's band 
 Half hid her gentle heaving breast; 
 
 ft Her tiny feet of perfect mould, X 
 
 9** Peeped out beneath her garment's hem; X 
 
 If them an artist should behold, U 
 
 M In dreams he'd oft be painting them. |[ 
 
 U The gods might such a scene admire, Q 
 
 Q While man would find his hecirt on fire. Q 
 
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 J As sudden flash of light, appeared Jj 
 
 W A stately form most purely white, H 
 
 Q Like some fine marble statue reared, Q 
 
 Q And glist'ning in a frosty night. Q 
 
 w The form was sexless though like man; w 
 
 9^ He stood beside the sleeping maid, S 
 
 And o'er her face like swaying fan, W 
 
 fl Swung poppy blooms of purple shade, Q 
 
 Q With the intent that sleep more sound X 
 
 ^ Might bind her senses with a chain, X 
 
 M And hold them while through depth profound % 
 
 y They rose the far off world to gain. Q 
 
 Q Though far to man, to angels near, fl 
 
 n The seen or unseen heavenly sphere 
 
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 2^ As gentle mothers lift with care ^ 
 
 W Their sleeping babes, so gathered he jjl 
 
 y Her in his arms, one moment there, 
 
 y Then through the casement noiselessly 
 
 Mf He strode, and straight as is the track 
 
 5 Of bee, he rose, and ere he left 
 
 g Our ether sea, he threw aback 
 
 ft Her robes for those of her bereft. 
 
 M As is the down of thistle blown, 
 
 ^ So did those robes at day dawn sail, K 
 
 W And when at last they settled down, jj 
 
 yl They subject gave for wondrous tale. Q 
 
 Q For wild spread 'round the strange affair, y 
 
 fl Of woman vanishing in air. n 
 
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 M In the beginning, but we know not when, 
 
 W A world was made, and placed in orbit like M 
 
 H This world of ours, but it had many lights, jj 
 
 So that no change of season nor of time, Q 
 
 w Like day and night, was there, but for the rest ^ 
 
 S And sleep of things, deep shadows were 5 
 
 M Beneath the vines and trees which thrifty grew. Jj 
 
 Q There birds and beasts of many kinds and like Q 
 
 M To some of all the climes of this our earth, jfj 
 
 g And some ne'er seen by man, were all at U 
 
 W peace. 8 
 
 III And fruits like ours, with others sweeter far, jj 
 
 Q Hung on the trees and glistened in the grass, Q 
 
 n On vines which constant bloomed and 
 
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 5 growing, crept W 
 
 « From place to place like things which live tf 
 
 jf and move. Q 
 
 There rain was not, but daily dews, all balm, Q 
 
 lit s 
 
 fL Came down and sparkled on the leaves w 
 
 w and flow'rs, S 
 
 S The grass and moss, like diamonds new set. g 
 
 y The larger streams so sluggish were, that not ft 
 
 Q A wave was ever seen, nor did the wind X| 
 
 S E*er blow, but zephyrs soft played with U 
 
 M the leaves, Jj| 
 
 yl And tossed the dewdrops on the trembling Q 
 
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 grass; 
 
 The brooks, the rivulets, and springs had voice, 
 
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 wmgs. 
 
 2 And babbling chimed with ceaseless song g 
 
 m of birds. X 
 
 B Thus stood the world until Maticia's guard jj 
 
 Alighted with her sleeping in his arms, Q 
 
 Within a bow'r composed of fruitful vines, jjT 
 
 (With floor of moss, as soft as eider down, 5 
 
 w Not green alone, but varied in its tints. g 
 
 Q The guard divine laid down his mortal Q 
 
 g charge, X 
 
 ^ And then withdrew until such time on earth, ^ 
 
 W Mankind doth wake. W 
 
 y The birds shook off the dew, jj| 
 
 Q And dressed their plumes and prism tinted U 
 
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 w Then on the wing, and bough of bush 
 
 13 and tree, Q 
 
 Q In liquid strains their matins sang to morn; Q 
 
 n While here and there, amid the sparkling Q 
 
 w grove, S 
 
 2 With dew begemmed, like rainbow light M 
 M they sped. 
 
 Or ran across the sward. 
 
 Maticia heard, 
 
 K Before she ope'd her eyes, the birds' sweet Jt 
 
 SB song, Q 
 
 And silver tinkling of a pearly spring, Q 
 
 W Nigh where she lay, and wondered if she Q 
 
 n dreeuned. M 
 
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 5 At length she ope d her languid eyes and saw ^ 
 
 M The scene within their scope; she looked W 
 
 S aloft, 9 
 
 jj And there beheld most luscious fruit bend ^ 
 
 |K down JK 
 
 9 In clusters tempting; still she thought she w 
 
 jj dreamed. H 
 
 n She raised her up, and placed her head at rest Q 
 
 Q Upon one hand, to look and muse awhile. Q 
 
 S She soon discovered that it was no dream, ^ 
 
 W That all was real, that her couch was moss; W 
 
 )l Her canopy was leafy vines with fruit, jj( 
 
 Herself a mortal from another world, D 
 
 fl All unadorned by any work of art. 
 
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 g While thus recHning, stood there in the break W 
 
 m Among the vines, the form who brought her U 
 
 9 there; $ 
 
 Q And thus he spake, while she in vain would 
 
 X hide 
 
 S Her nakedness. 
 
 S "O, creature of the earth, 
 
 fl In this bright sphere beside you there is none, 
 
 Therefore cast shame as worthless garment 
 by; 
 The surest shield that modesty can wear ^ 
 
 jj( To chastity, with purity of heart. Q 
 
 Q Here you were brought — the Master willed Q 
 
 fl it so— Q 
 
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 ^ To keep alive the race we know as man, ^ 
 
 W For soon the world will like a scroll on fire, J 
 
 8 Be rolled away; the elements will melt, M 
 And like as you have seen a comet fly, jj| 
 
 The earth through space-*unmeasured, wild ]fL 
 
 w will sweep. w 
 
 5 There man was placed as lord of all below, 5 
 
 n But sunk beneath the very beast he ruled; ft 
 
 n All things, save he, the laws laid down fulfill, Q 
 
 ^ And God repented He created him. ^ 
 
 W 'Tis here intended that the woman shall W 
 
 )l Be queen of all, since she most loved her jrf 
 
 9 Lord, d 
 y And bore Him in her arms, and at His tomb Q 
 
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 M Shed tears of sorrow, and of fondest love. W 
 
 jrf To *scape so dire a fate as that of Eve, JJ 
 
 H Let nothing earthly harbor in your breast; 
 
 Q Let no desire for what is not here found, fl 
 
 w Possess your heart; all things you see are yours 5 
 
 ?5? To use for pleasure, or as need may prompt, ^ 
 And at the proper time, the Master will 
 
 An helpmate bring! till then content yourself, 
 
 M And this remember, that you are but clay, |K 
 
 K And that your thoughts should constant rise K 
 
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 To Him whose work you are, and He your God. Jjf 
 
 'Tis time ablution we should make, and then Q 
 
 ft abroad. 
 
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 Jj Azaziel— he it was who spoke— then took ^ 
 
 jrf A tendril from the vine and blew a call, K 
 
 U Which answered was by Leo; not such beast Jj( 
 
 Q As oft was seen in olden time, when men Q 
 
 jjr Were cast into their dens, but large, with mane tf 
 
 9^ Like glossy silk, and eyes as mild as dove's. w 
 
 „ He came and couched low at Maticia's feet, S 
 
 y For she had risen and stood outside the bowV. Q 
 
 M Azciziel sat her on the lion's back, M 
 
 Si And led the way down the river's marge. 
 
 Where soon like giddy lads let loose for play, 
 They sported in the water crystal clear. 
 
 Q The lion first came to the shore, and shook U 
 
 Q His dripping hide, then rolled upcn the sward, Q 
 
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 And romped like sportive dog. Azaziel took 
 From off a tree at hand, great sheets of moss, 
 More soft than turkish towel, with which 
 
 they dried 
 Themselves, then kneeling there, gave thanks 
 
 to God. 
 Maticia sat once more on Leo's back, 
 And for a moment ere they motion made, 
 The picture was most beautiful to see; 
 The placid stream on which the sun shone 
 
 bright, 
 The group reflecting, while his ruddy beams 
 O'er laid them with a sheen of reddish gold, 
 While merry sang unnumbered birds. 
 
r B 
 
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 W With royal pomp passed o er the mead, and m 
 
 Q reached 3 
 
 D A covert formed by one large tree whose leaves Q 
 
 W And boughs enwoven were and formed a broad ^ 
 
 8 Gay canopy, beneath the which was spread w 
 
 J- A feast, fit food for angels or for men. g 
 
 Q 'Twas fruit, the fig, the date, with purple grapes, n 
 
 Q Bananas ripe and rich, and fruits unknown jjj 
 
 g To this our world, with nuts of many kinds; ^ 
 
 W Above them hung a score of polished shells m 
 
 y With handles bowed from side to side, of twigs. jj 
 
 Q The boughs on which they hung were pricked Q 
 
 R by thorns, Q 
 
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 5 And oozed their sap into the shells for drink, g 
 
 jf Which nectar draught was sweeter far than W 
 
 SI wine y 
 
 jj E*er served at earthly wedding feast. 
 
 I They ate. | 
 
 jpr And then gave thanks, and formed a flow'ry 35 
 
 S wreath, S 
 
 Q And placed it 'round the waiting lion's neck, g 
 
 15 And bade him hie away to forest deep. jj 
 
 S Then blew Azaziel on a blade of grass, g 
 
 M And came an elephant of ponderous height, W 
 
 W All covered with a soft white fleece, Jj( 
 
 jj Like of yearling lamb; he bowed him low, Q 
 
 Q And on his back Azaziel sat his charge, 
 
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 And at her side with arm about her waist, 
 He sat, and thus across the plain they went, 
 And up the great ascent to Viewland's peak. 
 Which tower'd above the fleecy clouds in pride. 
 
 There may be bounds upon this earthly ball, 
 To which the mortal vision cannot reach. 
 But when upon high Viewland's treeless peak. 
 The eye takes in a scope beyond the sun. 
 And in the distance may descry all white. 
 The orb on which is built the throne of God; 
 Which orb a million times is larger than 
 The largest any telescope can weigh; 
 And while it lights all suns, it still drives on, 
 
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 5 The leader of the universe of spheres, W 
 
 M Which sweep through space, and orbits still m 
 
 y perform. 
 
 F,„„,.he„U„e„wha.™„o,.ci.„cecal. | 
 
 **Spots on the sun," which spots are only holes, w 
 
 Or vacuums within his atmosphere, S 
 
 By whirlwinds caused. g 
 
 Thus Azaziel pointing spake: Q 
 
 "Yon orbs which seem almost as joined in one, M 
 
 Though diverse in their forms, is where the g 
 
 souls y 
 
 Of mortals wait the final stroke of time; j|| 
 
 That one beneath, all blazing hot and bleak, y 
 
 Rocks heaped on rocks, its base all wrapt in n 
 
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 * gloom, * 
 
 if Is where the rich man begged a little drop, m 
 
 y But one, of water for his parched tongue; jj 
 
 Q From there came Judas, dressed in mortal Q 
 
 guise. 
 
 But to betray and then return again. 
 
 And yon above, you see with verdure clad, 
 Q Is where the thief, repentant on the cross, 
 
 Q Met his Redeemer — it is Paradise — 
 
 ^ And there the righteous dead from Abel, down 
 
 W To this your day, are crying *Lord how long?' 
 
 H A great mistake some mortals make who think 
 
 Q The spirits ever leave their resting place 
 
 Q To visit earth, and there commune with man; 
 
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 B^ One spirit only e er returned to earth, 2 
 
 And that was Christ's, but He was God of God. W 
 
 W That evil spirits, who are unconfined, yl 
 
 w The devils, may thus seek the death of souls, Q 
 
 |K Is plausible, though little speed they make, )fL 
 
 JK Save with the minds debased or rather weak. 5 
 
 i I 
 
 Q The end of time, of which I just now spake, Q 
 
 ft Was not of all the orbs, for some will last M 
 
 w As long as God Himself; but of the earth, ^ 
 
 2 The only orb on which sin's curse has fall'n; W 
 
 W But w^hen the angels braved the pow'r of God, \l 
 
 jjl They left the orb on which they had been Q 
 
 placed, ft 
 
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9 fi 
 
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 6 
 
 5 And went — as oft before they went — to heaven. ^ 
 
 M They being spirit, passed from orb to orb M 
 
 W At will, as all the angels have the power, jj( 
 
 jj And on their orb there was no count of time; Q 
 
 U But when Defeat with mighty arm pursued, |^ 
 
 jjj They driven were, to wander to and fro, w 
 
 g In boundless space, without a resting place. g 
 
 n Their orb was rent in pieces small, to burn Q 
 
 ri And dash through space; now we can see Q 
 
 g them fly— g 
 
 M The comets — which mankind cannot explain. W 
 
 \l Now look around and see this beauteous Jj( 
 
 jJI sphere; Q 
 
 9--- 
 This is a peaceful world; no sin, no death; 
 
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 And so will be unless yourself should sin, 
 But even the stain shall disappear, 
 Without a sacrifice, or flow of blood. 
 To yonder smiling vale, yon Eden new. 
 We now will go, for there I needs must speak 
 To you once more of strict obedience/' 
 
 Maticia, in the long descent was mute 
 With admiration of the varied scenes 
 Through which they passed to reach the far 
 
 down vale. 
 Where they arrived at what on earth is called 
 The close of day. When rich repast they ate, 
 And in an ambient shade, they sought repose. 
 
9 9 
 
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 2 A night within that Eden new, 'twere vain S 
 
 W For mortal words to e'er describe; the orb, M 
 
 X Or what might there be called the moon, was tf 
 
 bright 
 As was the sun, save only that its beams 
 
 I 
 
 W As was the sun, save only that its beams j^ 
 
 8 Were white, and clad all objects which they w 
 
 J- touched, a 
 
 g With what to man would seem like new fall'n Q 
 
 8 snow. I 
 
 ^ The streams and lakes, unruffled, mirror like, J 
 
 M Reflected through the whiteness on them shed; m 
 
 Jjf The objects so defined, they looked as though jj| 
 
 Q They stood in bold relief within the air; Q 
 
 Q While fish and pebbles in their depth appeared n 
 
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 M To rise and float upon the surface white. W 
 
 M The morning Hght waked all created life, jl 
 
 jl And Eden never seemed more beautiful; y 
 
 Q The flowVs had sweeter breath, the birds new 
 
 songs, 
 The sky was bluer than before at morn; 
 The scene was heavenly to the mortal mind, 
 And all because a woman graced the scene. 
 
 8 
 
 8 songs, jS 
 
 Thf* slcv ^AJf^si blnp.r than b(=»fnrp. Pif morn! 5 
 
 9 
 
 9 
 
 g Azaziel then Maticia thus addressed: M 
 
 Jjf "Within this garden nothing ill can come; J( 
 
 jj A mortal year will not suffice for you 
 
 Q One half the beauties of this vale to see; fl 
 
 Q Therefore remember, pass you not its bounds 
 
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 Who lives by alms, and whose life span is nigh 
 
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 W Until the Master brings to you— as Eve g 
 
 W To Adam was afore— your helpmate fair. m 
 
 jj( Henceforth Maticia you shall not be called, 
 
 Q But this, Humana, comfort to your race. 
 Another charge is mine: a saintly soul 
 
 g Its end— all mortal flesh must die; at birth „ 
 
 
 ft Is registered in heaven their length of life, 
 
 Uj And known by God are all their years Q 
 
 g and days. JJ 
 
 W Better to live besainted and in want, 
 
 |j( Than clothed in purple with a sinful soul — 
 
 My blessing rest on you until I come, Q 
 
 fl And pass you not fair Eden's gate till then." Q 
 
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 9 Humana watched him till like fading mist 5 
 
 ^ He disappeared, and then sat down to muse W 
 On what had passed, and thus soliloquized : 
 
 9 
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 9 *"" ^- S 
 
 6 
 
 a "Of all the mortals born on earth, 
 
 fl Of high and low degree, 
 
 g I only seemed to have the worth 
 
 2 For such great majesty! S 
 
 Sk l! simple I, am chosen queen Jj( 
 
 Irf Of this creation new, Q 
 
 jll And from the wonders I have seen, Q 
 
 y I dare not doubt it true. n 
 
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 5 May all the creatures of this sphere, 5 
 
 Ij Through me be ever blest, W 
 
 m And when the Master doth appear, W 
 
 I 
 
 May He be Lord confessed. 
 Hail beauteous birds and peaceful beasts, 
 
 Behold your queen in me ; 
 Come, let us hold this day a feast, 
 
 This world's nativity. 
 Ye limpid springs and placid streams, 
 
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 w In rippling join in song; ^ 
 
 2 Ye lights shed forth benignant beams, W 
 
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 J3 Ye flowers bloom, ye fruits grow sweet, Q 
 
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 g Of Him who made you all complete, M 
 
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 y I am but mortal, ye divine, j|| 
 
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 it Now ye are left to me as mine ! w 
 
 S And I to you, as queen ! ** ^ 
 
 g On bush and tree sat countless birds of song, g 
 
 g With those whose charm was in their f| 
 
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 ^ The beasts from smallest to the elephant— g 
 
 M As once to Adam they appeared in line — yjl 
 
 ^ Stood waiting for Humana's word to move. jj 
 
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 III At eve they halted 'neath an ambient shade, 8 
 
 Q In midst of grove nigh to the garden gate. Q 
 
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 w Humana more so, lay her down that night. w 
 
 5 The gate of Eden — and there was but one — g 
 
 Q Was hedged by trees whose gilded crowns Q 
 
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 I* And its approach by lofty arches spanned, 
 
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 U But when the theme is burthened with desires J[ 
 
 3 Of love, the heart must surely callous be, Q 
 U That throbs not, nor reverberates when heard Q 
 
 Sf Si 
 
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 5 'Twas like to human voice, and thus it sang 
 
 W "Humana, my beauty Humana, 
 
 M A soul new created now hear, 
 
 y My heart reaches out for its treasure, 
 
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 y My beauty, my spirit, Humana ! Q 
 
 Q I long your commands to receive. n 
 
 S Let sleep not enchain my Humana ! S 
 
 W For love is the sovereign of all, M 
 
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 |y| That love ne'er unanswered shall call. B 
 
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 jjr 'Tis love the whole universe moves; w 
 
 5 My beauty ! my life ! my Humana ! S 
 
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 Humana*s heart beat high ; the song had waked 
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 ^ Could chisel limbs and chest more perfectly. U 
 
 9 Bright were his eyes, his locks were auburn w 
 
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 5 "No, not that you would come, but that ere long Jt( 
 
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 jK She said, to which replied the youth, **Ah, yes, tt 
 
 "^ But if Tm bidden come to thee, and bring 
 
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 Q Nor question His intent, nor make delay." Q 
 
 w "Nought evil can within the garden come, S 
 
 S And if 'tis truth you speak, come in," W 
 
 W Humana said with face lit up by faith. 5(( 
 
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 y Where flows the pearly stream of life ; Q 
 
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 Of snakes, while parings of an asses hoof 
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 ft "In yonder hell, now by the will of God, Q 
 
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 g Humana then found speech and sobbing said, * 
 
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 w He brought to bear, the citadel of truth w 
 
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 M But hang them high, and far beyond my reach. fi 
 
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 ^ Where late Humana was, and where she slept; 5 
 
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 Had left their prints like tracks in snow. jj 
 
 All seared and shriveled were the fruit and 
 leaves, 
 
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 Q "Alas! alas! Humana, from your birth, 
 
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 M that you W 
 
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 jj The bells for sermon and for prayer, jj 
 
 fl For those who had or had no creed, Q 
 
 n Rang out upon the morning air, Q 
 
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The learned too, the subject named, 
 And diverse the opinions given. 
 The curious passed full oft that day 
 
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 \l Was that, "that morn"— for so they said— Q 
 
 jJI "Was seen from window pane to peer Q 
 
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 'Twas Satan's, and 'twas plain to see 
 
 For awful deeds it was prepared. 
 
 While thus ran through the city wild, 
 
 Strange stories at Maticia's home; 
 
 Her parents fondled their dear child, 
 
 And thanked the Lord that she had come. 
 
 At times she spoke of pleasures past. 
 
 And of the wonders she had seen; 
 
 But oft a cloud would overcast 
 
 Her brow, to think what might have been. 
 
 To now, with such a weight of sin, 
 
 Go face the world, she could not brook; 
 
 Repentent works she must begin, 
 
 And only to high heaven look. 
 
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 The cloister seemed the proper place g 
 
 To fit her for eternity. X 
 
 Therefore resolved, she sought for grace, ^ 
 
 Secluded in a nunnery. fl 
 
 **Hail! beauteous world," Maticia said. 
 
 As forth she issued from the door, 
 Which she had passed just one decade 
 
 Agone, to pass it now no more. j| 
 
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 The mountains rising in their pride, 
 
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 The hills, the valleys and the glade, 
 
 The little streams and ocean tide; 
 The flowers and bushes by the way, 
 
 The trees and birds, the sands and rocks, 
 The moon by night, the sun by day, 
 
 The lowing herds, the bleating flocks. 
 All beautiful to hearts in tune, 
 
 And fitted for so rich a boon. 
 The soul which from the world must hide, 
 
 Is wrong, because it fears the light; 
 Better to breast opinion's tide. 
 
 Than have it boast you took to flight. 
 Mistaken ye who think to find 
 
 In nunnery, the food divine. 
 
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 What soldier puts his armor on, 
 
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 n The coward only; I've been one, Q 
 
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 rU battle for the good of man; 
 
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 III And whatsoever woman can, Q 
 
 Q I'll do, that sinners may believe, fl 
 
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 Repent, and have their sins forgiven, 
 
 And fitted be to enter heaven." 
 To-day Maticia goes her round, 
 
 Speaks comfort in the dying ear; 
 The poor by her are sought and found; 
 
 To stricken hearts she bringeth cheer; 
 And children greet her on her way; 
 
 The drooping head lifts up again 
 Where'er she goes, by night or day, 
 
 Her face alone relieveth pain, 
 And hearts are cleansed of their stain. 
 
 5Ftf0 EniL 
 
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 TOM PERKINS f 
 
 BY jjj 
 
 9 J. WILLIAM POPE j 
 
 K THE STORY OF A BASE BALL PLAYER K 
 
 2 PRICE 50 CENTS 5 
 
 i ^ 
 
 w In every walk in life, base ball included, a sober w 
 
 Jj[ man comes out best. — David Starr Jordan W 
 
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LIBRARY OF^CONGRfSs,^ 
 
 015 871^31 A