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My First Book 
 
 By L. ARAY 
 
 There Is truth 
 in poetry. 
 
 Price Twenty-Five Cents 
 

 UIBRAHV of OONQRESS 
 Iwu Copies HtxtuvKj 
 
 .J UN 16 1905 
 
 Jupyrittiii Liiiiy 
 GLASS CZ. XAc Noi 
 
 /fCS3 if 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 -, - II ■■ - 
 
 COPYRIGHTED 1905 BY 
 
 LANGSTON PARKKR ARAY. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Sketch of Author 5 
 
 Childhood 7 
 
 Don't Knock 8 
 
 A Punished Pun 8 
 
 Keep on 9 
 
 Good Friends 9 
 
 The Trusts 9 
 
 The Ivy 10 
 
 Some People 10 
 
 My Kitty 11 
 
 Local Markets 12 
 
 The Spider and Butterfly 15 
 
 His Girl and Boy 17 
 
 The Trolly Car 18 
 
 Kansas City Flood, 1903 19 
 
 The Wauchita 20 
 
 Butter Fly's Life 22 
 
 Rain Drop Round Trip 28 
 
 Corn 24 
 
 My Old Home 26 
 
 Man Is But Mortal 27 
 
 A Dream 28 
 
 My Little Peacherine 28 
 
 Stepping Stones 29 
 
 It Pays to Look Behind 31 
 
 Time 32 
 
 The End 33 
 
 The Straight Truth 33 
 
 Parted by a Sea 34 
 
 The Negro and His Flag ^ 37 
 
 Crazy 'Bout My Chicken 39 
 
 "That Gal" 40 
 
 The Monster Flea 41 
 
 (3) 
 
SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 I was born in the city of Nashville, Tenn., on the Cumber- 
 land river, June 29, 1875. My parents were of moderate cir- 
 cumstances, my father was a practicing physician and a graduate 
 of Ann Arbor Medical College, also a graduate of the Cincinnati 
 College of Medicine. 
 
 My father died at the age of 63 in Earlington, Kentucky, 
 where he had gone to take charge of a village school for his 
 health. I was just eight years old when he died and left mother 
 with six children to clothe and care for. 
 
 Later in life, I went to Mississippi with my mother, where 
 I enrolled as a student of Alcorn Agricultural and Mechanical 
 College, a school for the colored male youths of Mississippi. 
 I continued as a student for a few years until force of circum- 
 stances compelled me to start into the world for myself. 
 
 (5) 
 
6 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 I traveled from place to place two years and drifted about 
 until I came to Ohio and accepted employment with a firm in 
 Columbus in the year 1898 and am at present employed by the 
 same firm. 
 
 My second book will follow this publication, after having 
 thoroughly put this one before the public eye. 
 
 Writing so that all may understand, 
 
 Is one great thing some writers do not do ; 
 
 But in these simple lines I weave a band 
 
 So clear that childish eyes see through and through. 
 
 Trusting that the reader may find pleasure in the perusal 
 of my first book, and hoping I may receive a helping hand from 
 you, I am, Yours sincerely, 
 
 Langston Aray. 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 It's fun 
 
 To run 
 
 In sun — 
 
 When young 
 And stroll when morning's new. 
 
 Air fills 
 
 The tills 
 
 Of nature's ills 
 Like flowers sprayed with dew. 
 
 While young 
 Make one 
 
 Example done 
 And close to nature be. 
 
 Let face 
 
 Be bright 
 
 The heart 
 Be light 
 With childish joy and glee. 
 
 Then play 
 
 And work 
 
 But never shirk 
 Your duties through the day. 
 
 With ease 
 
 Of breeze, 
 
 That moves 
 
 The leaves, 
 Have patience all the way. 
 7) 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 DON'T KNOCK. 
 
 O Man ! O' Man ! 
 
 Most worthy son 
 
 Of decryology ; 
 
 You should be made of better stuff 
 
 Than science of "knockology." 
 
 A PUNISHED PUN. 
 
 A story of the butter 
 
 And a story of the fly : 
 
 Would give you comprehension. 
 If someone would reply. 
 
 The fly was on the butter 
 
 And the butter on the fly : 
 
 If the butter had the wings on it 
 It couldn't help but fly. 
 
 They say the little wooly worm, 
 
 Or caterpillar spry — 
 That creeps along the trees of shade, 
 
 Make every butter-fly. 
 
 Now, if he makes the butterfly 
 
 He ought to be a fly : 
 But if he haSiu't got the wings, 
 
 Where does the butterfly ? 
 
 On buckwheat cakes, hot biscuits. 
 On batter cakes, in pies ; 
 
 This pun is understanding 
 The fly in butterflies. 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 KEEP ON. 
 
 Where there's no fault, 
 There is no cause to falter; 
 While you are doing well. 
 Shun the halter. 
 
 GOOD FRINDS. 
 
 Mone}- and "good friends" go hand in hand; 
 
 They number to millions, as oceans to sand.. 
 
 The grains are the friends 
 
 And the ocean is you — 
 
 When your money is gone 
 
 You can't borrow a "sou." 
 
 Though the ocean recedes 
 
 And the waters, so blue. 
 
 Go out in the distance 
 
 And leave sands anew ; 
 
 It returns with a welcome 
 
 From whence it did come. 
 
 But your money, when gone. 
 
 Seldom comes back to vou. 
 
 THE TRUSTS. 
 
 They shall drop as old Lucifer dropped from above; 
 
 With a wonderful crash, they shall crumble to dust. 
 
 While now they are Joying 
 
 Like the swift-winged dove. 
 
 Far over the heads of the people — unjust ! 
 
 In obscurity they shall be classed with the c^iaff. 
 
 In the depths of a bottomless pit they shall slumber; 
 
 There they shall pay equal for their thieving wrath. 
 
 They shall know no waking to life's untold number. 
 
(to MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 THE IVY. 
 
 Creeping along the ground 
 
 With leaves so green and round, 
 
 Not seeing a sight 
 
 Not hearing a sound 
 
 While creeping along the ground. 
 
 Close to the fence it grows 
 
 Or down where the brooklet flows 
 
 The little blue eyes 
 
 Look to the skies 
 
 While creeping along the ground. 
 
 It grows with a smiling face 
 
 And the roots to the soft earth lace; 
 
 Hiding heads so low 
 
 Little flowers do blow 
 
 While creeping along the ground. 
 
 Aray. 
 
 SOME PEOPLE. 
 
 There are people who think they are wise; 
 
 They have many things to learn. 
 
 There are people who have many eyes, 
 
 Seeing everything that turns. 
 
 There are people who would not retain 
 
 Their good prosperity 
 
 If you could stamp it on their brain 
 
 'Twould fall with swift velocity. 
 
 Trhere are people who are prying 
 For some flaw in you to find; 
 And you find them ever sighing 
 If your business they can't mind. 
 There are people, many people 
 Who'd take every cent you had 
 "And inake a jackass of you sure, 
 They'd put you "to the had." 
 
MV FIRST, BOOK. 
 
 There are people like a leaky pail, 
 
 Their capacity is air; 
 
 Their daliy toil of jabber gail - 
 
 Is blowing, going everyvvliere. 
 
 There are people with the coming styles 
 
 For the season, e'er they be. 
 
 There are people with the Chadwick smiles ■■ 
 
 Dame innocent par fee! 
 
 There are people that are like you, 
 There are people that are like me. 
 There are people that we know not, 
 These are people that there be. 
 
 MY KITTY. 
 
 I have a girl named Kitty, 
 
 She's only a country lass ; 
 Some people say she's giddy, 
 
 But she's not of that low class 
 She's not much of a beauty, 
 
 Or a night owl, don't you see, 
 That's why I love my Kitty 
 
 She's the only girl for me. 
 
 When I take her to an opera, 
 
 Or on a social call, 
 She dresses neat, from head to feet. 
 
 And smiles a smile on all ; 
 The boys all do adore her 
 
 She's as loving as can be. 
 That's why I love my Kitty. 
 
 She's the only girl for me. 
 
12 M\' FIRST P.OOK. 
 
 LOCAL MARKETS. 
 
 FRUITS. 
 
 The apple hangs upon a Hmb 
 
 In yonder orchard's tree, 
 And moves its httle shiny face 
 
 As if it could hut see ; 
 The heav}' winds are blowing 
 
 And the rain is pouring down, 
 That apple is seen to falter — 
 
 Breaks loose ! — falls to the ground. 
 
 From Southern climes, far, far away, 
 
 Far from Ohio's banner, 
 There comes the most delicious fruit, 
 
 The yellow skinned liananna. 
 
 Old California has the lead 
 
 In fruits — by million crates — 
 
 Lemons, mangoes, limes and oranges, 
 Pineapples, pears, malaga grapes. 
 
 In any of our states of note. 
 
 We find the lucious cherry; 
 
 And in the State of Illinois, 
 The finest of strazvherrics. 
 
 Then we come to the cranberry — 
 In the Northern States it grows ; 
 
 This is all I have to tell you, 
 
 The fruit story now shall close. 
 
 VEGETABLES. 
 
 The butter beans, 
 The kidney beans. 
 
 The beans I do not mention ; 
 The sweet, snap beans. 
 And Navy beans, 
 
 All have mv kind attention. 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. I3 
 
 The blood-red beets are growing" 
 
 With their bodies in a row, 
 And the cabbage head is coming. 
 
 And the leftitee is aglow. 
 
 When the summer breeze is upon you 
 
 And the wind is still and low. 
 Carrots, radishes, and onions. 
 
 Sage and mint and squashes grow. 
 
 Wlien old winter's chill is upon you 
 
 And we feel so worn and blue, 
 Give to us a stalk of eeler\. 
 
 For it makes our nerves feel new. 
 
 Our dear old friend — s:ceet f>otato^ 
 
 In its warm bed l)eneath the vine, 
 Grows with a multiplying ratio — 
 
 Where }ou plant one. you may find nine. 
 
 Through our gardens of Ohio, 
 
 There's a plant that grows about. 
 It's a plant I never tasted 
 
 And we call it Brussels sprout. 
 
 Oh ! that slimy, sticky okra. 
 
 ( )n a stalk of green they grow ; 
 Like a glue it fastens to you. 
 
 This is true, because I know. 
 
 And the rhubarb is expressly 
 
 For those pies T can't describe, 
 They will make you very restless 
 
 If you get too much inside. 
 
 I shall end all in a trio. 
 
 Staple things T shan't leave out ; 
 Turnips and the Irish potatoes 
 
 And tomatoes — our devouts. 
 
l4 MV FIRST BOOK. 
 
 BUTTER^ POULTRY AND EGGS. 
 
 O the butter, the chickens, the turkeys. 
 The ducks and the most precious eggs 
 
 Are ever our needful artick^s. 
 
 And the oysters without eyes or legs. 
 
 GRAIN. 
 
 The com we can not do without. 
 And the oats are forever in use. 
 The salt must be put in the bread, 
 And the meal makes our appetites stout. 
 
 GROCERIES AND PROVISIONS. 
 
 Sugar in the coffee. 
 
 Biscuits in the pan, 
 Bacon on the table. 
 
 Lard is in the can. 
 
 HIDES. 
 
 Steer and coze hides in a row. 
 
 Stags, sheep, ealf skins, horse hides go. 
 
 GAME. 
 
 English and French Partridge, 
 English and French Plover, 
 
 French Grouse and Egyptian Quail, 
 Hunting season is now over. 
 
 FISH AND GAME. 
 
 White, Lake Erie Pickerel and Trout, 
 Perch, Lake Herring and Cat Fish about 
 Blue Fish, Ocean Trout, Lobsters and Crabs, 
 Sea Trout, Salmon. Halibut. Shad. 
 
 VENISON. 
 
 Roast and steaks — Steaks and roasts — 
 But common "cow" is good for most. 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. i«J*, 
 
 FLOUR. 
 
 Patent, cooped or well prepared, 
 Straight or clean makes us feel glad. 
 
 HAY. 
 
 Timothy, Timothy always in need. 
 
 And many a farmer buys back his own seed. 
 
 THE SPIDER AND BUTTERFLY. 
 
 The insect flits 
 
 'Midst flowery pits. 
 Sweet fragrance to be taken ; 
 
 With fluttering wing. 
 
 They softly sing 
 Sweet songs — their own creation. 
 
 THE SPIDER. 
 
 While thus they sip, 
 
 The spider sits 
 Upon his bright webbed mansion ; 
 
 His feet entwined 
 
 And eyes that shine, 
 Stretch open their expansion. 
 
 In shady spots 
 
 Ruthless they stop. 
 Their homes to build so neatly, 
 
 On vines so lush 
 
 The sweet scents rush 
 And fill the air completely. 
 
 Those little limbs. 
 
 Those little eyes, 
 As vicious as old Satan's, 
 
 Strike with a weight 
 
 That cannot make 
 The lives of insects orladdened. 
 
l6 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 THE BUTTERFLY. 
 
 The butterfly 
 
 May flutter by, 
 Forgetting all its beauty ; 
 
 Into the trap 
 
 Its fans do flap, 
 All moist with dew and honey. 
 
 All but to gain 
 
 Free life again. 
 In sweet, quiet solitude ; 
 
 All worried out 
 
 No sound about, 
 Life — stilled in dying mode. 
 
 THE SPIDER. 
 
 He moves about 
 
 His web so stout ; 
 Fears he not, the intruder ; 
 
 The yarns wound round 
 
 The prisoner bound. 
 Cease wings — that were resisting. 
 
 Back to his place 
 
 He slinks with grace. 
 When life is all exhausted ; 
 
 Then in a rave 
 
 That cures his crave 
 He bounds upon the victim. 
 
 THE BUTTERFLY. 
 
 Life blood ebbs away. 
 
 While spider gay 
 Is cutting ofif the pleasures 
 
 Of nature seen, 
 
 The insect queen 
 Witli lives too short to measure. 
 
-MV FIRST BOOK. 
 
 HIS GIRL AND BOY. 
 
 17 
 
 His heart is filled with gladness 
 When his daily work is done ; 
 
 For he's thinking of his loved ones 
 His daughter and his son. 
 
 The little girl is Esther 
 
 With eyes that dart and gleam ; 
 And the soul is never restless 
 
 Of the blue-eyed bov Eugene. 
 
 The little girl runs forth to him 
 And jumps clear off her feet; 
 
 She knows her papa loves her 
 For she kisses him so sweet. 
 
 This little girl is full of love. 
 
 She is full of life and light ; 
 She never goes to bed without 
 
 The parting words — Good Night. 
 
 I've tokl you of his little girl, 
 
 His little fairy queen ; 
 List now, and I sheill tell you 
 
 Of his little boy, Eugene. 
 
 There are two little eyes of blue 
 
 And a heart that is always clean ; 
 
 In this oile little soul he loves 
 Of his little boy, Eugene. 
 
 He's a shining light through dav 
 
 Greater than all earth he weens; 
 
 And he never forgets his prayers 
 Does his little boy Eugene. 
 
 Wfien his father sits in a chair 
 The boy looks at him so keen 
 
 On papa's knees with both eyes peed 
 Slumbering is his boy Eugene. 
 
l8 MV FIRST HOOK. 
 
 THE TROLLEY CAR. 
 
 I have such funny feeUngs 
 
 When I board a Trolley Car, 
 In our chief Ohio city 
 
 Which is known both near and far. 
 
 Sometimes the car is jammed and packed; 
 
 The seats full to the end; 
 And not quite standing room for one, 
 
 Not room for one to bend. 
 
 The "Con" he won't forget the "ticks" 
 
 He speaks so loud and clear. 
 Fare, please! Fare please! Cling! Cling! CHckJ 
 
 To him that's very dear. 
 
 Sometimes it's very tiresome 
 
 To hold onto the straps ; 
 But still the people pile on. 
 
 Says "Con": "Close up the gap!" 
 
 His car is never crowded ; 
 
 "Step forward!" is his cry. 
 You push and squeeze together 
 
 And could but swear. Oh My ! 
 
 Now when the "Con" has all the fares 
 
 And sure he has them all. 
 He elbows to the rear end. 
 
 Then some more streets he calls. 
 
 Sometimes he calls them loudIy> 
 
 Sometimes he calls them low. 
 Sometimes he calls your street — 'tis past 1 
 
 Nobodv knows, no. no. 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. I9 
 
 And even if you get a seat, 
 
 It's very hard to hold : 
 Some lady sure steps on your feet, 
 
 Excuse me, sir! they say. (I'm told.) 
 
 To make this little story short, 
 
 As to the end we taper : 
 If you wish to hold a street car seat, 
 
 Keep both eyes on a paper. 
 
 KANSAS CITY FLOOD, 1903. 
 
 From Lincoln, Nebraska, on Mav 25, 
 
 Comes news of a cyclone, just out a few miles. 
 
 The village of Pauline, by fierce winds was stormed; 
 
 Six people left dead on that furious morn. 
 
 The buildings were wrenched from foundations strong; 
 Left woe and devastation in Pauline's small throng. 
 Next, Norman, another town struck by the same. 
 Left seven, all told, dead in wind and in rain. 
 
 Many towns did it strike, throughout this broad land. 
 By its plunder and blunder, left death by its hand. 
 Our sweet home, Ohio, was not entirely forgot ; 
 With destruction it bore us forget-me-nots. 
 
 We heard from old Kansas on May 29, 
 
 From the town of Topeka, on the 'Kaw' River line. 
 
 The river is rising inch by inch every hour. 
 
 Soon lives in that district will lose all their power. 
 
 Next the thunder! then started its groans to resound. 
 With glittering flashes of lightning all round, 
 The rain then poured down, with a pattering thud, 
 And we are left on the scene with death and the flood 
 
■20 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 Many dead, floating bodies, marked unknown were found, 
 Who had lives, just as we, before they went down, 
 A mother found drowned with her last breath she gasped, 
 "I'll never give up." died with child in her grasp. 
 
 Kansas City's flood will never grow cold. 
 For it brings back memories of Noah's Ark, old, 
 Not a sign of an Ark to escape in was there 
 Left to the Almighty, to God and His care. 
 
 The, crisis has passed, danger's line has been crossed, 
 Though many a heart bears tl"te burden of loss — 
 Some, mother; some, father, sister or brother gone 
 From this world to another, without funeral or song. 
 
 So it is through this life, as onward we go. 
 Let us try to do good on humanity's road. 
 When our time shall have ended, we will rest with sweet 
 ■ peace, 
 
 By God's mighty power, our souls be released. 
 
 THE WAUCHITA. 
 
 There's a river in the Southland, 
 
 As clear as the sunshine in June;' 
 
 It flows 'neath the beautiful heavens, 
 
 Flows neath the clouds, when gloom. 
 
 When the lucid sun is shining. 
 
 When the stars are gone to sleep, 
 
 It runs with a rippling murmur ; 
 
 Air through the day long, it creeps. 
 
 Moss covered trees that border 
 
 On each side of this crystal stream. 
 Wave their blossoms to the sunshine. 
 Cheat tears of the dewdrop. it seems. 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. 21 
 
 The branches of old weeping willows 
 
 Tip the water's surface edge; 
 And it runs on unmolested, 
 
 Runs on past the cane and the hedge. 
 
 There's where in youth I was happy. 
 
 Where I spent joyful days of my life; 
 'Way down South — on that rive'r, 
 
 No worry, no care and no strife. 
 
 The name of this river I mention, 
 
 Is known as the old Wauchita ; 
 Yes. many an evening I've watched her 
 
 As she glided before the boats prow. 
 
 And well do I now remember 
 
 The bunks on the old Sterling White ; 
 The main and the boiler and monkey, 
 
 Those decks were a curious sight. 
 
 Above — on the hurricane, stilly 
 
 Sat the shaky old pilot hall. 
 The bells were always kept clinging 
 
 When they ding donged their signal call. 
 
 The side v/heels were always so clumsy, 
 
 But without a mistake as to might ; 
 For the water they splashed, 'twas a wonder 
 
 How we all stayed aboard Sterling White. 
 
 This river still flows with its grandeur. 
 
 Full of life, full of shoals of gar 
 Under water, five feet, you can see them 
 
 While they canter and play by the score. 
 
 Pleasant tlays of the past are all over. 
 
 These days I shall see never more : 
 They've past, they've past, they've ])ast, they've past. 
 
 Future davs shall not be lorn. 
 
22 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 BUTTERFLY LIFE. 
 
 A little egg is laid 
 
 Upon a leaf of green ; 
 When all the air about 
 
 Is silent and serene. 
 
 Then comes the life, so short, 
 
 For life it yearns ; 
 
 And soon becomes a weaver — 
 
 A hairy, wooly-worn. 
 
 He toils through summer days 
 
 With patience — on a mission. 
 
 To please the buyers of his work, 
 To brighten window visions. 
 
 Always on a shining leaf, 
 
 At work, he's found; 
 Never gazes on the earth 
 
 Nor breathes a frown. 
 
 Not even does he sigh; 
 
 Though gain is loss — 
 But toils without a grief — 
 
 Knows not his cost. 
 
 When days of sleep come on, 
 
 He's in his nest ; 
 All spun and wove and wound 
 
 In silken vest. 
 
 Shaped like the moon 
 
 In her last quarter; 
 
 And in a stillness — 
 
 From our eye-lit sight 
 
 All wrapt in silk. 
 
 With threads so neatly woven, 
 
 The silk-worm rests in peace 
 
 Through winter's night. 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. ~ ^3 
 
 When spring time comes 
 The larvae wakes ; 
 And from dark casing 
 To the Hght it breaks; 
 The wings are closed — 
 Is that dear life deposed? 
 
 The sun beams on the sight — 
 The butterfly has made its flight. 
 
 RAIN DROPS — ROUND TRIP. 
 
 The da}- is wan, 
 
 Dark clouds come on 
 When earth below is still ; 
 
 Above they roar, 
 
 As on they soar, 
 'Bove many plain and hill. 
 
 The clouds then break, 
 
 The thunder shakes 
 The rolls have lightning spears; 
 
 The rain begins 
 
 And mizzles thin. 
 Then like a torrent pours. 
 
 Down hill and dale 
 
 Through flum it sails. 
 With but rain drops to utter 
 
 Soft words that cheer 
 
 Their lives so dear, 
 Mav some day steer the rudder. 
 
 They all join one 
 
 As on they run. 
 To watery fields of pleasure; 
 
 Thev flounder on. 
 
 As ofif they bound, 
 With their own time and leisure. 
 
2^' MY FIRST liOOK. 
 
 A creek they meet 
 
 And in they sweep. 
 All hnngled up together.. 
 
 They swell the stream 
 
 With hubbies beam, 
 Until they form a river. 
 
 They swiftly glide 
 
 On with the tide 
 Without a care or worry, 
 
 They slip and slide 
 
 They try to ride 
 Each other in the flurry. 
 
 ( )n. on they go, 
 
 So do they grow. 
 From wee drops, then to rivers, 
 
 Till when at last 
 
 They give one blow 
 And tum]:ile into (lulf of Mexico. 
 
 The ocean reached 
 
 '(iainst hull tlie screech. 
 They splatter in the water, 
 
 "Till atmosphere 
 
 Dries up the tear 
 And draws them back to clouddom. 
 
 CORN. 
 
 Out in the field there lives 
 
 A stalk, so bright and new, 
 
 With flags of green — 
 
 So bright and clean ^- 
 
 We love them kindlv, true. 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. __ 
 
 This plant is ever loved 
 By poor, by rich, by great; 
 Without our toil 
 And labored moil 
 Its life would be at stake. 
 
 From little grains so small, • 
 We hear them as they call; 
 Through earth they creep - 
 While on we sleep — 
 - We are coming — that is all. 
 
 A horn-like shape is seen 
 Through broken ground about, 
 
 Although so still. 
 
 They have a will, 
 They have a way, they're out. 
 
 • One tiny root holds fast 
 The life into the plant; 
 'Till blades are made, 
 And earth is laid 
 Around the limbs so scant. 
 
 They strengthen as they grow 
 When worked by nature's hand. 
 
 From stalks so thin, 
 
 More roots begin. 
 Around the lower band. 
 
 With roots so thickly set. 
 Their veins are spread awide; 
 
 Growing in grace. 
 
 They find a place. 
 An ear shoots up on side. 
 
26 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 A rod grows on the top. 
 A yellow chaff it furls ; 
 
 The corn is there. 
 
 With silken hair. 
 And ripe with golden curls. 
 
 The tassels on the stalk 
 Wave to the skies so blue ; 
 
 By day and night. 
 
 They grow in might, 
 For nature's sake — for vou. 
 
 MY OLD HOME. 
 
 There's a little cottage — yonder 
 
 Through the woods not far away ; 
 
 I was born there and it's fonder 
 Than all mansions of this day. 
 
 I remember when a laddie 
 
 As I played in woodlawn — there 
 The breezes that would pass me 
 
 Seemed to drive away all care. 
 
 When a youth I loved to listen 
 
 To the old folks nuisic sweet, 
 
 While the stars at night would glisten 
 Sweet notes — echoes would repeat. 
 
 There's the same old chair in which I — sat 
 And watched the cows while grazing, 
 
 'Till they'd come at evening tide 
 
 To fill the pails with rich milk glazing. 
 
 In that doorway I have stood 
 
 'Till the midnight hours closed ; 
 
 Till the raincrow in the woods 
 
 Shrilled a sound of saddest woes. 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 Soon it was the old folks left me 
 Father and my mother dear 
 
 Then left alone was I to see 
 
 The ups and downs of future years. 
 
 Since they have gone, not quite a score, 
 But time it seems much longer; 
 
 I know they've reached the golden Shore, 
 That blissful shore o'er vonder. 
 
 27 
 
 MAN IS BUT MORTAL. 
 
 Man is but mortal, no more, 
 The life is all in breathing; 
 
 Man's troubled life is never o'er 
 Until this earth he's leaving. 
 
 Man is but mortal, no more, 
 Do not misjudge his doings 
 
 Why cast him out on danger's shores 
 Not all are disapproving. 
 
 Man is but mortal, no more, 
 
 His looks may be deceiving; 
 
 But there's a little sparkling core 
 
 That burns when good wall's leaning. 
 
 IMan is but mortal, no more, 
 
 For great things he is pining; 
 
 With" might and money and high lore 
 Man should not be decrying. 
 
 Man is but mortal, no more, 
 
 Why not hold up each other; 
 
 Why not on him your good will pour? 
 For man is mortal and no more. 
 
2$ MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 I hear a sound ! 
 
 A sounding sound ! 
 
 That sounds like sounds all sounding, 
 
 Together as they sound the sounds 
 
 That sounds like sounds resoun.ding. 
 
 Is it the thunder in the skies 
 
 That shakes the clouds wide open, 
 
 Is it a sound I never heard. 
 
 Or is it God's will spoken ? 
 
 I can not see through frost and fog, 
 
 A thing but flashing lightning ; 
 
 Whence come those sounds — through icy hills 
 
 ( )r from the snowdrift mountains? 
 
 All Iceland was in darkness ; 
 But the Eskimoes don't know, 
 Only dreaming of those icebergs 
 Made me shake and shiver so. 
 
 MY LITTLE PEACHERINE. 
 
 There is a little maiden in this town I love ; 
 
 To me she's brighter than the stars that shine above ;. 
 
 She's not like other girls. 
 
 Nor has she auburn curls. 
 But she's the girl I love, ni}- queen. 
 
 She's my little peacherine — 
 Sweeter than all maidens seen ; 
 I love her dearly and sincerely. 
 Yes, I love her all the time; 
 She's my little columbine — 
 And my heart is ever thine — 
 I love her truly, she will not fool me, 
 She's my little peacherine. 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 When we walk along together, sweet as she can be, 
 I know there is no other girl on earth for nie ; 
 
 She's always so polite, 
 
 Keeps my heart a feeling right, 
 \Mien in her comi)anv. 
 
 She's my little peacherine — 
 Sweeter than all maidens seen ; 
 I love her dearly and sincerely, 
 Yes, I love her all the time; 
 She's my little columbine — 
 And my heart is ever thine — 
 I love her truly, she will not fool me. 
 She's my little peacherine. 
 
 29 
 
 STEPPING STONES. 
 
 We are on the stepping stones, 
 Lined up one by one ; 
 
 What shall our harvest be. 
 
 When after day has come? 
 
 Can we spare our hours? 
 
 Can we spare our days? 
 Can we spare our future years. 
 
 With no goodness done? 
 
 We, as little children, 
 
 All should do some deed. 
 While we're young and healthful, 
 
 Let us learn to read. 
 
 Nature as a subject, 
 
 Nature as a rule, 
 Learn to be observing. 
 
 Learn in Nature's school. 
 
30 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 In this land of beauty, 
 
 Don't erase your name, 
 
 Other men have conquered, 
 You may have a fame. 
 
 Don't reject the chances, 
 
 That you may command, 
 
 Though Hke avalanches. 
 
 On you they may stand. 
 
 Stand on good foundation, 
 Step across the stones ; 
 
 None can ever drive you back. 
 If you'll stand your own. 
 
 Make your will to equal 
 That of any man ; 
 
 They may some day speak well, 
 With a helping hand. 
 
 Learn to be your own man. 
 Learn to be no fool, 
 
 Learn to be original 
 
 Pattern models never rule. 
 
 Never think you know all; 
 
 More than any man; 
 Never think you have all 
 
 That's not in your hand. 
 
 All that you may master, 
 Do it with a will; 
 
 All that you may conquer, 
 Never let it spill. 
 
 Though your brain be larger 
 Than the mighty sun, 
 
 It can never help you 
 Without using some. 
 
.\IV FIRST DOOK. 31 
 
 Catch the sunshine, gentle reader, 
 
 As you pass along its way; 
 For there is a day coming, 
 
 \\'hen no chance befalls your way. 
 
 Let us live and let us learn ; 
 
 Let us labor, let us earn. 
 Short is time on earth of sin. 
 
 Let us trv now to begin. 
 
 IT PAYS TO LOOK BEHIND. 
 
 It pays to look back, sometimes, 
 As we journey on life's way ; 
 If your road is full of progress 
 It pavs to look behind. 
 
 It pays to look back, sometimes, 
 Some knowledge you may lose ; 
 Regain it by the wayside 
 It pays to look behind. 
 
 It pays to look back, sometimes, 
 Danger may be lurking near ; 
 All through life's path of daily strife, 
 It pays to look behind. 
 
 It pays to look back, sometimes. 
 Some faults you may discover ; 
 Put them aright and travel slow, 
 It pays to look behind. 
 
 It pays to look back, sometimes, 
 Wherever you may go ; 
 Don't keep your eyes always to the front, 
 It pays to look behind. 
 
32 MV FIRST DOOK. 
 
 It pays to look liack, sometimes, 
 No life is there unblotted ; 
 If you should be the better still 
 Don't fail to look behind. 
 
 TIME. 
 
 Time is the great wheel of ages 
 
 Tliat travels with never a stop. 
 
 Time knocks — only once — on the pages 
 For us, as it does on the clock. 
 
 In youth never spend your time idly, 
 
 Let the minutes, and hours, and days 
 
 Be hitched with some little liridle. 
 
 Some knowledge time can't take away. 
 
 Let time travel its journey still onward, 
 It will travel on past our goal ; « 
 
 But grasp some treasures it offers. 
 Some deed or some honor extol. 
 
 The great monarch — time — is fast flying; 
 
 'Round, 'round, 'round the world it does go, 
 AVhile many a youth that has scorned him. 
 
 In obscurity bends to the bow. (Death.) 
 
 O Time! as you roll by my doorw^ay, 
 As you roll past my hours in sleep 
 
 Shall I, shall I be forgotten? 
 
 Or shall T a fair harvest reap? 
 
 O Time of ages roll on ! 
 
 O Time of ages soar 
 To Time of far beyond us. 
 
 To Time of evermore. 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. 33 
 
 THE END. 
 
 The day is drawing nearer ; 
 
 Soon we'll in the earth repose; 
 .Soon we shall sleep in slumbers, 
 
 With our eyelids ever closed. 
 
 Lift out the deadened embers 
 
 From our lives, which, filled with mold 
 Lie deadened and decayed there, 
 
 Like frozen icebergs — cold. 
 
 Let our hearts be brightened up; 
 
 Let our eyes be lightened up, 
 Let the stains of by-gone pages 
 
 Leave behind no lives corrupt. 
 
 The days of play and pleasure 
 
 In time will all be o'er : 
 Then we must lay our l)urdens 
 
 On the brink of earthly shores. 
 
 O man, of might's creation, 
 
 We come — and then we go 
 Prom earthly fields of sorrow, 
 
 To where no man shall know. 
 
 THE STRAIGHT TRUTH. 
 
 I chewed tobacco for many years. 
 
 Till my stomach walls were rusted ; 
 
 I tried to stop the habit once. 
 
 But I never could be trusted. 
 
 I chewed and chewed and chewed and chewed, 
 And J just kept on chewing; 
 
 'Till r could eat the filthy weed, 
 
 The same as cows chew cotton seed. 
 
34 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 The other day I got a pack, 
 
 Just to take another "chaw ;" 
 
 The first thing that I Hfted out 
 Was a piece of human "paw," 
 
 Now you may have all of the scrap, 
 You may take all you can "chaw ;' 
 
 What cured me was not Quit-to-bac, 
 But a piece of human "paw." 
 
 PARTED BY THE SEA. 
 
 Years have come and years have gone, 
 Since her face I looked upon. 
 
 Though she still loves me to-day. 
 While her form is far away. 
 
 I loved her and she loved me, 
 But we parted by the Sea.* 
 
 Of no water 'neath the sun. 
 Or by mountain's chainy run. 
 
 She is where I know not where. 
 May be where, she does not care. 
 
 She is where she cast her lot 
 She is where I am forgot. 
 
 Many times do I rethink, 
 If the chain has lost a link. 
 
 Is it covered with thick dust, 
 Or is it corrode, or rust? 
 
 Can the links e'er be renewed? 
 Are her eves on me askew'd? 
 
MY FIRST BOOK.- 35. 
 
 Has that name in silence wound 
 Lines across my forehead bound? 
 
 Have those recollections dwindled? 
 Can they never be rekindled? 
 
 Are there left no sparkling coals 
 That would burn as love of old? 
 
 Oh, what bliss I have been missing, 
 Fondling arms and sweetest kissing! 
 
 Can those days e'er be regained, 
 Shall I ever them reclaim? 
 
 Is there something seems so near 
 In that heart I loved so dear ? 
 
 Or is it the sounding name 
 
 That brings thoughts of her again. 
 
 Must I live in vain despair? 
 
 Shall my arms ne'er hold that spare? 
 
 I can not forget those words 
 Of our parting that I heard. 
 
 "Nothing but cold death shall part !" 
 Was stamped upon our wooing hearts. 
 
 Haunting eyes before me run 
 On my face that I can't shun. 
 
 Little hands so soft and warm 
 Sad to me, they are forlorn. 
 
 Love not lost, but like the grain 
 It shall sometime sprout again. 
 
 Though we parted by the Sea, 
 It shall not be eternally. 
 
j6 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 Seem'st I hear that old, old song, 
 Coming from sweet lips along. 
 
 "We are lovers loud. 
 Our hearts our proud. 
 
 How long shall it last? 
 I can never range 
 Your heart — it may change 
 
 Like so many of your cast." 
 
 "In the days of old, 
 
 We are often told 
 Of lovers blithe, always, 
 
 Until death would speak 
 
 And chill the warm cheek 
 "Of its reddened hue and braze." 
 
 "Is your love but a Mart. 
 
 If so let us part ; 
 Tho our hearts may one ever be. 
 
 One last kiss let me press 
 
 On your lips, then I'll rest. 
 But I cannot my lot cast with thee." 
 
 As she stood in idle grace, 
 
 While her heaving breast would pace. 
 
 With melodious tune she sung, 
 Back ! — The past my vision rung. 
 
 Light of heaven on her shine, 
 Tho I know not of her clime. 
 
 In dreams T hear her soft voice swell 
 And lull, as streamlets of the dell. 
 
 So, on the soil of lover's lea, 
 We parted by unwatered Sea. 
 
 But I do not hear her parting song. 
 To me the bell has lost its gong. 
 
MV FIRST BOOK. 37" 
 
 I would gladly sleep at rest 
 In her arms — were 1 caressed. 
 
 Though she'd fallen like a grain, 
 On the soil to wait for rain. 
 
 Would that 1 could pour a dew 
 On that form and make it new. 
 
 There would he an episode 
 Likened to no, idol god. 
 
 Sweetest flowers hright and fair, 
 On her hosom she would wear. 
 
 On her hair the .Marechal Xeal 
 Would rock its pedals, wave and reel. 
 
 Diamonds, ruhies, pearls and gold 
 I'd thrust upon her many fold. 
 
 But go to her would never do. 
 While the sea divides the two. 
 ^Matrimonial Sea. 
 
 THE NEGRO AND HIS FLAG. 
 
 Beneath the mighty face of Sun 
 Lies a country we all love; 
 
 With lands adorned in beauty, 
 With mortals born to love. 
 
 This country is LTnited States. 
 
 In it we love to be ; 
 Old Uncle Sam, we love him true, 
 
 By his flag we were freed. 
 
■38 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 O Flag of Might ! Beneath you 
 
 Stand men with fault nor stain ; 
 
 Who love the peace and freedom 
 
 For them, that you have gained. 
 
 'Twas Abraham Lincoln's pen that stilled 
 The curse of blood and slavery; 
 
 Negroes in need did die and bleed 
 To save this flag and country. 
 
 A brave soldier never donned 
 Blue uniform more gladly, 
 
 And marched to war, behind the drum, 
 Nor left his home more sadly. 
 
 The negro died in war for you. 
 
 The stars and stripes he honors, 
 O flag! He loves to represent 
 
 The country he belongs to. 
 
 Since his few short years of freedom, 
 Onward, onward he goes ; 
 
 As a race and as a nation. 
 
 Let his history never close. 
 
 He labors in the cotton fields, 
 
 On farms, and in the shops ; 
 Instructs in schools and colleges, 
 ■ His labor never, never stops. 
 
 He's gained an honor for himself 
 Like adamant • — unbroken ; 
 
 On books of fame he stamps his name, , 
 It shall be ever, ever spoken. 
 
 Give him the chance that's given 
 
 To any other man. 
 Give him the space and freedom — 
 
 Let him show he is a man. 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. 39 
 
 Then down in Southern worn hills. 
 
 Where lay the old clay deadened 
 By steady, steady toiling on 
 
 For years and years, till reddened. 
 
 Let negro votes be cast 
 
 On ballots that shall count; 
 And in North and South 'Olinas 
 Let the negroes' votes be found. 
 
 The Negro's name shall then resound 
 
 As thunder on the water : 
 The sounds will echo earth around 
 One flag — shall be our motto. 
 
 Let all the nations bow to one — 
 
 The Flag — with inspiration, 
 Let all the sons live to rejoice 
 
 The stars and stripes creation. 
 
 And when our days so weary, 
 
 Have all been counted and summed, 
 
 Under Stars and Stripes and banner. 
 We shall live as one. 
 
 Then let the dear flag cover us, 
 
 Whether it be old or new, 
 Those stars, those stripes — red, white and blue — 
 
 Will cover me, will cover you. 
 
 CRAZY 'BOUT MY CHICKEN. 
 
 There is one thing in this world 
 
 To me that is so dear; 
 
 It is not money, wealth nor mansion grand. 
 
 Not a pretty maiden is it. 
 
 Or the sound of music sweet, 
 
 But it's chicken that I love ■ — 
 
 That holy meat. 
 
40 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 'Cause I'm crazy 'bout my chicken all the time; 
 
 For that fowl's meat, to me, is mighty fine. 
 
 When I'm picking on that breast bone, 
 
 You had better let me alone, 
 
 'Cause I'm crazy 'bout my chicken all the time. 
 
 You may talk about your pork chops. 
 
 Your kidney stews, divine. 
 
 There's none so good as one I love the best; 
 
 Well, the turkey is not in it ; 
 
 Quail on toast falls in behind ; 
 
 There's no meat like the chicken 
 
 In this world — for mine. 
 
 'Cause I'm crazy 'bout my chicken all the time; 
 
 For that fowl meat, to me, is mighty fine ; 
 
 When I'm picking on that breast bone. 
 
 You had better let me alone, 
 
 'Cause I'm crazy 'bout my chicken all the time. 
 
 THAT GAL. 
 
 Oh that gal of mine loved me one time, 
 
 She called me honey and she treated me fine. 
 
 She bought me all my shoes and clothes. 
 
 And I spent her money as I chose. 
 
 I went away one day on business delay 
 
 And forgot my mail to lay away — 
 
 When I come back she had my clothes all packed 
 
 She done set 'em outside the door. 
 
 She didn't give me time to breathe — 
 
 Backed away back and rolled up her sleeves 
 
 Says — Mr. Coon — you leave, for 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. 4I 
 
 Cho. 
 
 I have other fish to fry 
 
 You was once my honey boy but now I'll pass you by, 
 
 You told me how you loved me ; 
 
 But that con's got old and stale — 
 
 Since I found in your coat pocket that side order mail.. 
 
 I left that very night, but I looked a holy fright 
 
 With my clothes all tore and my heart feelin' sore, 
 
 I lived six months at a free lunch stop. 
 
 I was missing my hot Java and my fresh "pok" chops, 
 
 Lost my home all out and down, I said with a frown 
 
 Now I see my finish if I don't leave town. 
 
 I will to some other climate go 
 
 Where these words don't sound so bold : 
 
 "You done been here long enough 
 
 You can't ring in no more bluffs 
 
 The pipe of peace to you 111 puff." — 
 
 THE MONSTER FLEA. 
 
 The flea belongs to the class called the pulcidae. The flea is a 
 nuisance to begin with ; you can find the rascal on most any part 
 of the globe — inhabited or uninhabited — wherever the climate 
 is susceptible to his livelihood, for lively is his hood. 
 
 Fleas, in some respects, are like people. They are of different 
 kinds. They are of different color. They are of different tribes, 
 so to speak. They are of different nature, different specie, ac- 
 cording to the class and climate in which they live. For instance, 
 here in America we have many kinds of fleas. One is the flea that 
 is found on our old "Tom" cat and his family. His nature 
 is to stay on pussy because the fur of the cat hides him from the 
 light ; there he rambles down the soft downy fur, without being 
 disturbed and there he lives the life of a nymph until his days 
 are ended in sweet peace or degradation by the cat's mighty 
 jaw, then in silence he remains. 
 
4-3 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 The cat flea is the smallest flea of which I know — I do not 
 ■deny that there are not smaller kinds than the feline kind, but 
 I don't pretend to give the history of all the fleas in the world, 
 or I would never get them all described, because they are too 
 numerous to begin to count in words. 
 
 Another specie of the flea is the dog flea, still larger than 
 the cat flea, and of a more vicious character. This flea some- 
 times becomes of such a numerous majority that poor "doggie" 
 can't compel them to stay with him, hence they hunt for new 
 quarters and fall upon the next best thing of flesh and blood 
 that comes in their way, for their path is wide and their victims 
 are many. 
 
 When the flea becomes discontented with doggie's hairy 
 realm, and begins to explore, then is the time when the disagree- 
 able "insecto" begins his wicked work upon the household beings 
 at large. 
 
 Then comes the time, as many of my readers are aware, of 
 flea fighting and flea biting. 
 
 There is one thing sure — when this little, quiet creature 
 lays his small, hard shell upon you and puts his little invisible, 
 hairy paw against your flesh and sinks his beak of love into your 
 ruddy skin, it's a sign for you to jump, and he jumps with you. 
 You may stand ofif the ice man. the coal man, the grocery man, 
 the rent man, and may be the furniture man, but when this little 
 pesky flea lays his hand on vou, it's the law. you can't stand him 
 oflF — N-e-v-e-r-. 
 
 You might grab at him, but it's nine out every ten times 
 you miss him, and if you catch the little pest, it's ten to one he 
 gets away. Then — where is he ? There are others, but the flea 
 which I am about to introduce to you now is the largest one I 
 ever saw, the greatest, the mightiest and the most grateful of all 
 flea tribes. At least I think so. I think I am the only human 
 being that has ever been so fortunate as to learn so much of 
 this monster flea, though only by a mere accident it happened. 
 
 Years ago. when I was traveling through the wilds of Africa, 
 where the sun beamed down on the beautiful river Nile, in Sodan, 
 and with the brightness of a transparent screen, where the great 
 boa constrictor coiled their noble selves into unnumbered clans ; 
 where the beautiful bird of paradise swelled its shrilling notes 
 from the cocoanut woods and the fierce African lion, with the 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. 43 
 
 vellow turf covering his kindly face, roared his sound through 
 hollow forest from his untrodden lair, treaded only by foot-steps 
 of his own. 
 
 This is where 1 found myself all alone. In the wilds of 
 Africa, in a big. lonely forest ; surrounded by wild animals of 
 every description. Bears, tigers, monkeys, gorillas and badgers ; 
 snakes large enough to swallow a twenty-four-horse team and a 
 wagon thrown in for good measure. Snails larger than giraffs, 
 glaring their eyes at me and eating fruit from the top of the 
 trees one hundred feet high. 
 
 I was dumbfounded ! Was it a dream ? Had I been linger- 
 ing under the impression that I was still on the old American 
 soil, where all, or most of the wild, carniverous animals had been 
 exterminated? No! It was a reality! You, reader, may imag- 
 ine in w^hat state of curiosity my bewildered frame of mind was. 
 I was daunted ! My heart seemed to freeze between my teeth ! 
 IsLy lips seemed to quiver to the old familiar tune of "Home, 
 Sweet Home.'" But that helped me — none ! My legs trembled 
 and my whole body shook with fear. What was I to do — be 
 swallowed at one gulp by the cunning boa constrictor? Be 
 put to death by one blow of the fierce lion's mighty paw, and torn 
 to atoms by his vicious and powerful jaw? I had no weapons 
 of any sort ; I was perfectly helpless ; something must be done 
 and done quickly. I scanned the varmints and beasts that en- 
 circled me, I saw one among them that made me think of the 
 old American flea, the resemblance was the same, the actions were 
 the same, for this monster was sitting on the back of an elephant, 
 and as I supposed, sucking this elephant's blood. A thought 
 struck me like this : — 
 
 If I could only mount that flea (as I supposed he was: 
 though I had never seen any of so great a build as he was) 
 he might hop with me to safety or to where I would be at more 
 ease than I was at the time being. Well, now, thought I. if I can 
 only get on his back ; but if I should happen to fall off. I would 
 be dashed to atoms or be carried away to some place or destina- 
 tion. I know not where. One thing I surmised and that was this : 
 — His sleek, black shell was slippery- and to hold a seat, once 
 I was on his back, would be a hard proposition. But it was 
 •death either way. so I took the chance of holding on to this creat- 
 ure. Before I got on his back. I knew my move would have to 
 
44 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 be quickly made, so I climbed a small sapling which stood near 
 the elephant and having done this, I made one leap and in less 
 time than it takes you to say "go," I was on and gone. For as 
 soon as I had mounted this mighty monster, he bounded away 
 with me on his back. 
 
 After I had got a good hold on him, I found that in place 
 of his back being of such a slippery nature as I had surmised, he 
 was covered with little blunt horns, which gave me a good 
 footing and a fair hold. 
 
 I breathed a sigh of relief — I had now lost sight of the 
 jungles of old Africa's beasts of prey. 
 
 Where I was situated at the time of my flea-mounting pro- 
 clivity, so to speak, was in the eastern part of Soudan, in the 
 lonely valley of Occar, situated between the two branches. of the 
 Nile river proper. The two streams of which I speak are the 
 White Nile and the Blue Nile, two tributaries of the Nile river. 
 
 This flea took a southeasterly course and we (the flea and 
 myself) were up in the chilly atmosphere on the first jump and 
 remained in the air for 24 hours. 
 
 His first jump took us from Oscar Valley to the shores of 
 Lake \'ictoria, a distance of 800 miles in twenty-four hours. Just 
 thmk how I felt. I was too much affrighted to loosen my hold, 
 for I knew the flea was hungry and he would devour me with a 
 will of his own and by his self. 
 
 When this monster had settled himself down upon the soil 
 of Uganda, a state bordering on the beautiful and gorgeous scen- 
 ery of Lake A'ictoria, to rest his weary self, it happened to be 
 fortunate for me as he was just tall enough for me to reach the 
 beautiful, the sweet, the most delicious of fruits. What felicity ! 
 What joy! What mirth! My appetite was satisfied, my stomach 
 was attended to but "I" was not. Still I was afraid to move 
 away from the life-saving friend, this monster flea. 
 
 Now. for the first time in all my life, I found out one thing" 
 about a flea. I had always had the idea that fleas only hopped. 
 This I now found to be a mistake of my knowledge of fleas. 
 This flea crawled, he ate heartily of a few animals for his meals. 
 A monkey and three cub lions, I counted them and I know it to 
 be a fact. Who can dispute it when I was the only eye witness to« 
 the scene ? Not a living being ! 
 
 L. 0! a- 
 
MY FIRST BOOK. , 45 
 
 The next day, after I had spent a sleepless night on the back 
 of the flea, I found myself high above the calm and sultry climate 
 of which I had come in contact the day preceding. We were 
 soaring over the mountain peaks of Kilimanjoro, the highest 
 mount of all Africa, the snowy crests of the peak were very 
 hard on my constitution, but I held on. The jump was a much 
 longer one and of a greater height, which caused untold misery 
 for me, but I still hung on. 
 
 We landed on the shore of Mozambique, four days after the 
 flight began, I was hungry again ; so was the flea, but as luck 
 would have it. there happened to be a fisherman coming along the 
 shore with fresh fish, just caught from the channel. Sad to re- 
 late, but this monster was no respecter of any living animal, even 
 the highest type of animal, which is man. 
 
 This monster threw a powder of some kind from his mouth 
 that caused everything about to become as if the earth around 
 us was enveloped in a dense volume of smoke. The fisherman, 
 of course, stumbled and fell, and his fish fell on top of him, 
 except one that flew wild in the scuffle, that one is the one I got, 
 for it fell directly in my arms. The noise it made and the slight 
 jolt on the flea's back caused him to become more vicious. This 
 ■monster flea spat on the poor old fisherman and washed him into 
 the Mozambique channel and he was drowned. The flea then 
 proceeded to devour the fish which weighed no less than seventy- 
 five pounds. He then laid himself down on the sand to rest 
 again. Well, he laid there and slept for three days without mov- 
 ing. I got plenty of rest and had fish enough to last me for a 
 week or more, but it was a long time for me to be on such a 
 kingly throne without a crown — only the fair sky that hung 
 above me. 
 
 Again I learned something of this monster. Instead of jump- 
 ing across the Mozambique channel, as I presumed he would, he 
 swam across with the alacrity and agility of a racing yacht that 
 knows no fear, with the ease of a wild goose he treaded the 
 waters of the channel so blue, and landed on the Island of Mada- 
 gascar on the same day. Madagascar is an island in the Indian 
 Sea, separated from Africa by the Mozambique channel. Mada- 
 gascar is about I, GOO miles from Cape St. Mary, on the extreme 
 southwestern point to Cape Amber on the extreme northeastern 
 
46 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 point. Its width is about 400 miles across from Mozambique 
 channel to the Indian Ocean. 
 
 The island lays northeast and southwest. We stayed on 
 this island for a short time only, about three hours, as I would 
 judge. It might have been only five minutes, but I was without 
 any thought except one, that was this : 
 
 The first chance that I should see to slide to safety on some 
 other quiet spot other than the "flea spot" of which I was a 
 rooster, I would gladly slide. Even if it was on other soil than 
 old America's. But a thought came into by mind that if I held 
 my place as T had. I might perhaps learn something more of 
 the world. 
 
 I might learn of more things that I knew not of, and still 
 come out of the many traveling experiences a well versed and 
 well informed adventurer. So I took some more chances. 
 
 The flea then took a northeasterly direction through the In- 
 dian Ocean, not by foot, nor did he jump. He had performed 
 many feats before, feats that no living being could have caused 
 me to believe if they had told me of them, but I had seen for 
 myself and I knew what this monster had done, therefore I had 
 reasons to believe he would do more than I had already seen. 
 
 Friends, believe me if you will, the truth is, this monster 
 flea swam the distance from Madagascar to the island of Ceylon, 
 which is south of India, the distance being more than 2,100 miles, 
 and he swam it in three days without rest or one single stop, and 
 landed at Ceylon with as much vim and unconcerned actions as 
 he did the day he left the African forest shortly before. I looked 
 around and saw the beautiful garments of nature, the trees, the 
 fruits, the swarthy natives and everything seemed to be in a 
 most glorious progress, but the natives, the animals and all living 
 that came in sight of this monster flea, turned their eyes to him 
 with vehement antipathy. Though like all fleas, he saw danger 
 in their eyes, and before he could be done any harm, he gave 
 one bound and was miles away in the twinkling of a serpent's 
 eye. With one leap from the Island of Ceylon to the Island of 
 Sumatra. This leap was made in less than six hours. The dis- 
 tance is over 1,000 miles. 
 
 A mighty flea was he. He could hasten his speed in jump- 
 ing and swimming, or he could slacken his speed by crawling. 
 It was all according to how he chose to go on his way. 
 
MV FIRST BOOK. 47 
 
 After landing^ with nie- on the coast of Sumatra, which is 
 about the same length as the distance from the Island of Ceylon 
 to the Island of Sumatra, he crawled and glided with the grace of 
 a tidal wave, imtil he came to the Strait of Sunda. which separates 
 the Island of Sumatra from the Island of Java, then instead of 
 swimming the Strait to Java (as I thought he would), he jumped 
 clear over to Java and landed on the Island of Australia. 
 
 He ho])pe(l across this island in the course of one night by 
 making si.x short stops, thence to the Island of New Zealand. 
 
 I now became excited, my thoughts were only of one thing:; 
 — How long shall this exj^loration continue. 
 
 I was getting very an.xious to quit this monster flea, but I 
 dare not, for before me lay the great water of the mightv I'acific 
 Ocean, many miles from the shore of South America. 
 
 And I plainly saw by the direction in which he had his head 
 turned the way he was bound to go, and off he swam. 
 
 Taking a northeasterly direction from New Zealand, we 
 passed the sultry climate of the tropic of Capricorn, we passed 
 the Friendly Islands, we passed the Society Islands, we passed 
 the Marqueses Islands, all of beautiful scenery and of untold 
 grandeur : the sweet perfume of sea driven fragrance from the 
 islands was exhilirating and I was still sitting and holding with 
 all my might and main to this monster that I commanded. 
 
 When we had crossed we landed on the northwestern coast 
 of South America, on the Cape of Parina, which is over five 
 thousand miles from New Zealand. 
 
 After arriving on the coast of South America and without 
 rest he gave one mighty jump and split the winds with his 
 pointed "beak of love," and jumped over the hilly heights of the 
 great Andes mountains. Then came the most delightful ride I 
 ever had or ever expect to have. When he settled himself down 
 amidst the soft zephyrs of the Maronon river, a branch of the 
 mighty Amazon, and assured himself that was in the right direc- 
 tion of his homeward travel, he slowly floated down through the 
 valleys of w-ell irrigated soil and swampy lands to the Atlantic 
 Ocean. 
 
 After this monster had crossed the country of South Amer- 
 ica, and had g-iven me such a great ride, he continued without 
 stopping and went straight on into the Atlantic Ocean. 
 
48 MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 He then swam across the Atlantic Ocean to the coast of 
 •old Africa once more and landed at the Cape of Verde, where 
 beauty shown all around. 
 
 Knowing now that I had gone around the globe and also 
 knowing that it was not safe for nie to venture any farther, 
 as I had learned much more than I expected to and I thought 
 that I had learned enough, I was now convinced that I had 
 gained some good information and this monster might take me 
 back to the wild and fierce jungles from which he had rescued 
 me and of which I cared to see nothing more. 
 
 Now was the time to make my escape ; now was the time 
 to quit this monster and now was the time to relieve him of a 
 burden (myself) which he had so greatly favored. 
 
 As he stood on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean with his 
 glassy eyes shining like the setting sun on a calm evening (the 
 monster's eyes measured one foot in diameter), and headed to- 
 ward the valley of Occar from whence he started, I took the 
 chance for my life. 
 
 Just as this monster was about to make his homeward bound, 
 I slid, yes, I slid on solid land once more. 
 
 I had done the distance I desired to go and further still, 
 but he had not gone the distance he had to go, nor did I care to 
 know his distance, for I was satisfied with what I had seen and 
 also for what he had done for me, although I asked him no more 
 favors, and he got none from me. 
 
 I was now at ease. I had encircled the globe, which is over 
 25,000 miles in circumference. 
 
 I had traveled around the globe on a free pass and I rode 
 all the way with this mighty flea as my protector and conductor. 
 I had now struck dry land and when I looked up to see if this 
 mighty monster was still about, I was mistaken — he had jumped, 
 he had risen to a height of over 2,000 feet in the air. 
 
 I looked, I gazed, I watched him until he had become as a 
 small particle of ground pepper away up in the clouds. He be- 
 came undiscernible ; I looked but he had gone, yes gone. I took 
 the first steamer out of port for the United States and arrived 
 safe and sound and none the worse for my adventures. I told 
 my friends of my travels and they called me an unmitigated liar. 
 
 Friends, do you believe this story? 
 
AR AY- WRITES! 
 
 WORDS FOR SONGS 
 
 Sentimental, ragtime or any old time 
 
 DROP CARD, BUT DON'T CALL 
 
 47 EAST STATE ST. COLUMBUS, O. 
 
 N. C. HAGER L,. C. COULTER 
 
 WE CAN PLEASE YOU 
 
 Che Uirglnla Dairy Cmtcli 
 
 No. 49 East State St., COLUMBUS, O. 
 
 HOME COOKING 
 SOMETHING NEW SEPARATE AND DISTINCT 
 
 TO MAKE IT A SUCCESS 
 
 YOU SHOULD ENGAGE 
 
 ^'XTdrTs: 52 E. Town St.. COLUMBUS, 0. 
 
jrt I !-• 
 
 H243 78 522 
 
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