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f^.v

THE LEGEND

mmx'^W^ti^ "^P -W**^

AND OTHEE HUMOROUS POEMS.

ALFRED OCTAVIUS PRITCHARD.

-e^^=9-rSfe-

picTor, N. s,
WILLIAM HARRLS, PRINTER,

1877.

0X96057

Purchased from the Estate of
John W, MacLeod

Ralph Pickard Bell Library

k'.

THE LEGEND

-or-

LAKE AVERIL

AND OTHER HUMOEOUS POEMS.

BY-

ALFRED OCTAVIUS PRITCHARD.

PICTOU, N. S.

WILLIAM HARRIS, PRINTER,

187 7.

? 'rhes(
tim juc
-<lioiild
.shnred
duriufi;
I eiitei'1
to provi
of the p
bo accoi

Xkw G]

PREFACE.

These crude effusionw must stand or tall according to
tho judgment of my readers ; but if perchance they
^hould meet the eye of some old friend who has
shared wkh me the vicissitudes of a chequered life,
^luring my sojourn in Canada and the United States,
1 entertain the hope that they possess humor enougli
to provoke a smile, and awaken happy reminiscences
.»f the past. Should this hope be realized the end will
l>o accomplished.

A. O. P.

Xkw Glasocw, N. S., Dkc 15th, 1877.

INTRODUCTION.

Lake Averil lies eniboHoined in the forest upon the

Itoundary Line that separates Canada from Vermont

alH.ut twelve miles from Coarecook, P. Q. It is a beau-

t Hill sheet of clear water and abounds with trout. It's

l'"Huty is chiefly enhanced by the deep silence and

H..htude of its scenery. To see it to advantage it should

i»'' visited in the fall of the year, when the surrounding

lorests are clothed in all their autumnal vestments. To

the lover of nature and solitude, to those who find

•f.Ieasure in the pathless woods and raplure on the

l'»nely shore" faraway from the busy haunts of man,

uad the noise and bustle of every day life, toithe sports-

nutn and the artist it offers every attraction.

i-ieth Stone referred to in the following poem, spent a
1,'roat part of his time at this lake and its environs, shoot-
ing and fishing. He was a pleasant companion' in the
woods, and his jokes and anecdotes, interspersed witli
genuine humor, his frequent sallies of wit, and his terse
rnpartee were the soul of our camp life. His untimely
oud was a matter of deep regyet to all who knew him.
i 'oatecook according to local traditions was formerly
the site of an Indian Village, but the dramatis personce
or the Legend are purely tictitious.

* The Rev,

THE LEGEND OF LAKE AVERIL.

In his tHrthoMt wanderings still he hqhh it.

Hears the talking flame, the answering night w'm>\n

As he heard them
When he sat with those who were, hut are not.

— LotUffeHotr.

I u the deep bosom of the forest wild

I .ies Averil's lone water, ever mild ;

Pi'imeval solitude, it's shores pervades.

And Peace sits brooding in its margent shades.

'I'he storm that on the hill the pine tree bends,

\\\xt seldom to the quiet scene descends,

Tho' zephyrs in the beams of summer trace

Tlie laughing dimples o'er its azure face.

The loon with crazy voice awakes the glen,

< >f this lone lake a common denizen,

Here may the timid deer at night be found,

Kmerging from the forest borders round,

I'o quench its thirst beneath the silent star

With watchful ear and eye, lest foe should ma)-

Its pleasures in the crystal draught, and then

With sudden bound to seek the woods again.

Kere doth the speckled trout in shoals abound,

No hostile species here molest their round,

Here might that queer, eccentric old Divine,

* Walton the prince of anglers drop a line,

And find another subject for his pen.

Indite more homilies on fishing, when

He should like Paul be fishing for the souls of men.

* I'hf Rev. Isaac Walton well known as an Author to the iSporting Wor)<l.

8 THE LEGEND OF LAKE AVERIL.

Hero (lid Piscator come vvitli tackle stout,

And N?lii])])e(l ilie waters for tlie wary trout,

Full well Lis labors were ro({uite(l too.

For twenty pounds in lialf an hour he drew,

And then he built his camp and lit his fire

A nd cooked his fish to suit his own desire.

When night witli saV)le shadows closed him round

The fragrant s]iruce boughs strewed upon the ground

Formed his iide couch ; the rnddv cheerful sheen

Fi"oni blazing logs a canoj)y of green.

Displayed a scene congenial to his mind ;

To solitude his geniuM was inclined,

And then he left the world with all its cares behind.

Oh Time ! our friendsliip and our love are thine.

But pleasant recollections they are mine.

Then bear thy sp.oils u}>on thy silent wings.

But spare the luillowed memory of things.

S|)are the remembrance of the spirits gone,

The images of those we doted on.

The sweet refiection of affections ties,

Spare me the sliadow though the substance flies ; —

Back to my breast life's fiowers thou wil't not give.

But let their fragrance in my fancy live.

Sweet Averil ! how oft .ny gaze I cast,

4(h)wn the silent vista of the i)aEt,

And midst the checkered seen that meet mine eyes.

Thy peaceful glades on memory arise,

All palpable, as from a magic wand,

And busy fancy hovers round thy strand.

Thou art so with my memory entwined,

So clear upon the tablet of the min«.^.,

'T would seem as tho' my ^;)irit still doth stray

Amidst the kindred haunts of bygone day.

Since last I trod thy sands the waves of life.

Have rolled around me with n. bitter strife.

And adverse winds have borne my fragile banpn-.

Tl.

omul

belli IK I.

ine

los ; —

line eves.

THE LEGEND OF LAKE AVERIL.

•<(Ut

A weary imnd o'er seas where all was dark,

No dreams of halcyon days now rise to cheer

The fading landscaj)e once so bright and clear.

Time too has left his impress on my brow,

And lengthened shadows flit before me now.

The hearts wliose love I deemed wonld never fade.

Or absence alter, or oblivion shade,

H<nv cold they seem, how passionless, as 'twere

The spirit of old days is wanting the?'e ;

VVhile some who loved with me thy waters lon(^

Flave passed life's bourn into the silent, dark unknown.

Loved one wdio shared with me life's hopes and fears.

My fair co?'»panion in this vale of tears,

TIm^ sods ar-e growing green upon thy grave,

Where the dark yew tree's sable plumes do wave,

IJeside the village church, that ancient i)ile,

Where we united were in Albion's Isle.

Happy wert thou from this rude w^orld's turmoil

To find repose upon thy native soil.

r was not there to close thy waning eye,

To catch thy farewell accents, or last sigh :

No, fate betwei'ii us stood, but to the last

I'll liold thine image and thy memory fast,

Tliou synosure to which my feelings tend,

How oft' to Averil thy face would lend

A charm that harmonized with all around.

Thou hast left footprints there that make the groum^

ilallowcfl to me : the very sky above

Secerns to reflect thy presence'and thy love.

Oh thou in heaven ! if from that bright sphei-e,

1'hy spirit now doth mark my lone career,

If sjtirits wee}) then tliine will shed a tear.

[dream that when this heart shall throb no more.

I'hat 1 shall hail thee on a happier shore ;

That He whose wise inscrutable decree,

Hi<l the Atlantic roll 'twixt thee and me,

For twelve long years, and wrecked our hojjes at hiM.

VVill when my wintry dream of life has jjassed ;

■Ml

THE LEGEND OF LAKE AVERIL.

(Tiiido my frail barque in mercy to that goal,
Where thou art now, the haven of thy soul.
Back to this being fraught with care and pain,
(^uld I, I would not call thy soul again,
Then take thy rest, be my lot what it may,
And wear thy crown " that fadeLh not away."

Xow in dee}) slumber did Piscator lie,
Luring the finny tribe with artful fly,
Or flitting on the fickle wings of thought,
O'er scenes long passed with social pleasures fraught.
When he was roused by rustling of the leaves.
Was it a whisper of the passing breeze?
Hush ! there's a footstep, then a form appears
Es that' you Sethi (Piscator cried) why liere.
At this late hour 1 come tell the reason why 1
Seth answered hoarsely, wait a bit I'm dry !
And choked with flies, mosquitos, midge and bug,
Wt>rnt they a caution ! hand me here the jug !
Here ! cried Piscator take this flask and drink,
Martell's best brandy that will make thee blink,
Seth seized the proflfered flask and took a drain,
Then lit his mellow clay and smoked away amain.

Ye youths who plod, no matter in what grade,

Minion of lucre, slavish child of trade,

Whose minds are in the narrow compass bound,

Of some small trading hole, nor look around.

Or lift your thoughts perhaps beyond the pale

Of some barnyard where all your wits grow stale,

" Home-keeping youths," come hither ! view this scene,

Mark well tho tableau, and this spot serene,

The merry sunburnt faces, hear the tale,

The song that echoes over hill and dale,

That laugh, that mocks at care and says begone,

The " starry canopy " to ponder on,

See the bright blaze from birchen log« that flings,

A ruddy charm o'er all surounding things,

And taste the pleasures from* the fount that flows.

THE LEGEND OF LAKE AVERIL.

in.

i fraught,

es,

I bug,

nk,
jlink,
:'ain,
amain.

ide,

und,

I,
lie

stale,
:liis scene,

foue,
flings,
flows.

Where Nature sits enthroned beneath the forest boutrli.*-:

Oome Seth 1 Piscator cried the night is long,

Tell me a tale, or else do sing a song ?

Well, if I must said Seth, I'l tell a tale,

What happened long ago in this lone vale.

'Twas told to me by an old trapper Joe,

When I was young, that's many years ago.

Twas long before my time and youern too ;

No Boundary Line then ran this country through.

A chain of forests clothed the land from here,

To Lake Champlain or some where very near.

Coaticook, that little town you know.

Was not then thought of, where now stands « row

Of cottages, some Indian wigwams lay

'Midst wilds interminable every way.

'Twas swampy ground, with bullrushes around,

Where wolves and other varmint did abound. '

The Indian folks who made that place their home

Were clever people, not much used to roam.

Were clever folks, so did the trapper say,

Perhaps ahead of some that's there to-day.
They had no " gospel mills" and no hotel ;
No lawyers and the like, which was as well ;
No brimstone Bethels, where the sinner's soul
Takes the higliway to glory without toll.
Where the itinerant Lord's anointed stands
And deals out free salvation to all hands.
*No scapegrace progeny of mongrel blood,

.,^"'^n,'~'^^-^*'Ju" ".^f"?" ^^^^ referred tc are to be found in the town^
:tnd villages m the vicinity of the Boundary Line on the Canada sd"
rhey areunworthy the name of citizens, and poison the social atmos^
phere that surrounds them. They have imported all the vices of o,i.
neighbors without their virtues, "in politics they are invarSv An
nexatiomsts; m reality men who would run agafnst rood iovernmtnt
m any state. During the American war they found a fiem for f?.*! r
evil propensities in "running substitutes" from Canada for the UniS
States army. They may well be designated unireu

„ - . " Lepers in politics and public good."

No reference is here made to the respectable citizens from the Uuitwi

.Stftt.ns vohci harm arx**f^,A «« /^.,«„J_ _i ^ .i ^ »'"■;• mc Ulllieu

and politically cannot be impeached. ^ eot-ianj

THE LE(}END OF LAKE AVERIL.

f.o[)er.s in politics and j)ublic good ;

Tliose fungi tijat tlie border liamlets cram

Yclii)t skedadlers from Uncle Sam ;

Pills that the old man's stomach could not hold ;

Black sheep that he's excluded fiom his fohl.

r like the Yankee when he's gennwine,

But darn these critters on the boundary line.

These cast off scions of the Yankee school

Might think the Indian Ohieftian was a fool,

But they might draw a lesson from the book

< )f natures scion, Chief Coaticook.

He was a gentleman all ready-made,

N'ot like the city swell that's learned the trade,

But it was there ; no artificial chain,

( )f book-learned wisdom crami)ed his soul's domain

His manly Ijearing, brow with furrows wrought,

Bespoke the man of firmness and deep thought,

And what he did'nt know, well then you bet

Was not worth knowing, " Say Bill pass the wet " t

Well Bill he had a daughter, handsome, fine ;

N"© palefacod l)astardy had marred the line,

She was the counterpart of her old man.

And all his genius in her currant ran ;

His only ofi'sj^ring in whose face he saw,

The sweet retiection of his long lost squaw.

She was to him a star of brightest ray

That lit the evening twiligliL of his day,

A glow ui)on the yellow leaf of fall,

A synosure, his thoughts absorbing all.

I^^or her went up the never ceasing prjiyer,

Jn cam}), on prairie, forest, everywhere,

And when he prayed, he prayed with heart and will.

The silent vistas of the forest Bill

With lofty pines for columns and a shrine

(;)f granite boulders, over which would twine.

The trailing mass, the dewberry and flower,

Formed his sublime cathedral, our

Modern mode of worship can't compare,

THE LEGEND OF LAKE AVERIL,

liold ;
1(1.

lie.

Dl,
)k

'iide,
domain

)Ugl)t,
lorht,

le wet " i
16 ;

and will,

le.

With his'n, we can't hold a candle there.
And as for choristers, he had the songs,
< )f every bird that to the wood belongs ;
The silver symjjhony of falling rill,
Horeau gales and ze|)hers whisper still ;
And the great Father's voice in thunders roll,
Music that awes and vspeaks right to the soul.

He did not kneel as folks do now'a days.
In pews on velvet hassocks or on baize ;
•< )r like our pious Elder with lank face,
With eyes upturned, and belly full of grace,
Thank God for special favors and again
Thank God that he was not as other men.
No, he saw good in all and raised his soul,
Up to the great Invisible who made the whole.

Well Bill, 'twas when the cruel war was waged,
'Twixt France and Britain, Indians w^ere engaged,
By each antagonist to ply their trade,
(rlory or fame cannot expunge that shade
From history. The knife was red with gore,
And Murder stalked with gory tresses o'er
This northern forest land. The wolf would then
Fatten on carcasses of butchered men.

The settlers' children, to the babe just born,
From helpless arms all ruthlessly were torn,
And brained before the supplicating eye,
Did this look like a christian policy !
A military station where now stands
Sherbrook, was occupied by British hands.

Upon the hill be-girt with maple trees,
8t. George's banner fluttered in the breeze.
It floats there still, and distant be the hour,
Wlien felon hands that good old rag shall lower,
May his poor heart of mine be cold and still, —
No politics allowed here ! muttered Bill,
Well Bill that's so said Seth I'm ofl" the trail.
And kind of losing sight of my long tale,

nti

|:lir

THi: LE(;i:xD of lake averil.

Now (Jf'herHl someboily sent down a bmce,

( )f officpis in tsearlet trinniied with lace,

To treat with old Cojiticook and try

The tenor of the chieftain's jiolicy. •

Suttiee it that the rednian did declare

His tribe as neutral, neither hei-e or there.

He treated well his guests ; his frugal store

< )f venison was laid upon the floor,

His daughter with a woman's wonte<l pride

In the full costume of her savaire tribe

Attired herself, and might be looked upon

Amongst her kind as one of the bon ton.

Lieutenant Wells, the junior of the two

Referred to, was a strapping chap to view,

Ln stature tall, with featui-es marked and bold.

His placH^ of birth none need ask or \>e told.

Old Johnny Bull stuck out of him quite plain :

A child could swear he'd come across the main.

The other Major Wilkins I will pass ;

He was of small account, had lots of brass ;

His record may be fair or may be foul,

A cham])anzee, or may be a blled owl

Knowed more than that apology for man,

And so I'll dro}> the critter, that's my j»lan.

Well Bill these soger cliai)S they staid ten days

With old Coaticook, in many ways

They passed in pleasuring tlieir time around.

In hunting deer and fishing I'll be bound

In this here lake : and *Bena she was there.

For hunting was her forte and she could beai-

Toil and ])rivations none but Indians know.

But one thing showed which way the wind did Mow,

No matter what the sport was of tlie day.

No matter how their paths diverged away,

Bena and Wells W(mld meet as if by chance,

We can see what was up Bill at a glance.

The gal was kind of spoony on him sir,

•The chief's daughter, Bena is a pheasant in Iroquois.

THK LE(JE\1) OF LAKE AVKRIL.

re,

en V ,

(1 did Mow,

Tlie cliM). had kind of hankerini? arter her.
These thinjrs were not unnoticed by the chief,
]5ut then his daugliter in his firm belief,
^V^.i» wide awake, and would not bring herself to gritf.

Great men have their weak points in common things.

-blinds that will soar upon immortal wings,

Above the common level of their kind,

In some small social matters seem purblind,

And so 'twas with Coaticook, but we

-Men of small calibre the thing would see

At once; true Wells and Bena could define

Then- thoughts alone by gestures or by sign :

Knglish or French she never learned ; he knew

No more of Irocpiois than I or you.

But there are ways of telling vvhat we mean,

And eyes are fraught with eloquence I ween.

'J'here is .1 power in silence, when the eye

Dwells on the much h)ved object, and a' sigh

Heaved from the dee[) recesses of tlie heart,

3)iscloses more than words can ere impart,

Devotion, passion, love or what you will

IJetrays itself in many aspects Bill.

The transient rost^ that blooms upon the face.

The shades of thought that deep emotions trace,

The sudden cloud that lowers on the brow,

A moment shaded, changed to radience now.

The tell-tale mirror of the heart, the eye

Disclosing all loves hidden mystery ;

The tender pressure of the fingei^ fraught

With meaning; an instinctive meaning taught.

By mother Nature to her daughter Eve ;

A legacy bequeathed us I believe,

If these things do not speak in language cleai-,

My views are all anomolous I fear.

But to my tale, these sogers had to dou

Their uniforms again and leave u})on

The seven A. M. train. Not much, you know

THE LEGEND OF LAKE AVEKIL.

N^o iron horse came tearing screaming through

The forests then. They had to pack their duds.

Shoulder their turkies and plod thro' the woods.

There is a well known boulder by this i)on«l,

A log camp stood not many rods beyond.

There as the sun it's parting glory shed,

And sable shadows o'er the grand woods isped,

There the Lieutenant and the maiden sat;

'Twas an all-tire romantic eve was that :

The *" lightning bugs " danced thro' the dreamy air.

And showed their fairy lanterns everywhere.

No ripple trembled on the silent lake,

Save when the loon or plunging muskrat break

The calm with eddies. Then the silver moon

Stole from a sea ot forests and full soon,

With pensive grandeur shed a glamour o'er

All nature, and enhanced her charms the more.

'twas a fair subject for the artist that,

The civilized and savage, critters that

Were the extremes in character and blood

One from the city, t'other from the wood.

Her raven locks in wild luxuriance hung.

Over her shoulders and her dark eyes shone

In the pale moonlight, while his arm was cast

Around her waist and thus the moments passed.

One touch of nature makes the world akin.

This proverb may to some folks seem too thin,

But love, romantic love is often found

To step from higher spheres to lower ground

And youth has no discretion, that's so Bill !

And risks a sire's curse and a shilling in his will.

They parted with a fond embrace, so far

Wells was a white man, he did naught to mar

The girls felicity. He'd come to claim

Bena for squaw, he said, she thought the same.

All this was told in gestures and their plan

Was unbeknown except above to the "Old Man."t

* Fireflies.

tGod in border phraseology.

h rough
eir dudK,
B woods.
[)on«l,

8 sped,

It;

dreamy iiir,
here.

t break
moon

o'er
Q more.

od
1.

y
?'

lone
IS cast
9 passed,
:in,
'<> thin,

ound
lill!
his will.

mar

' same,
Ian

Jld Man."t

THE LEGEND OF LAKE AVEHIL.

Time rolled along the days, the months, the years.
Two long, long years of anxious'hopes and fears,
Of weary irksome days and sleepless nights
When lo the scarlet coat appears in sight.
Then Bena wild and losing all restraint,
(She did not hollow or pretend to faint,)
But from the wigwam like a panther broke,
If hell had intervened with fire and smoke,
ril bet my life she would have waded thro';
When women loves what wont the critter do,
Bounds thro' the brushwood like a thing of thought
And in the silent avenue she sought.
The young Lieutenant ; then into his arms
She fondly threw herself, all glowing with loves
charms.

The soger came for game ; this was his plea ;

And he was game, no chicken sir was she.

For many days they were a gunning round.

The Matrawippe Lake, (lame did abound,

In those days all the plains and forests thro'

No lack was there of moose and cariboo.

But like their forest lords the Indian race,

They vanish from the earth ; they fade apace

Before the legions of their paleface foe

Like leaves before the autumn winds they go.

Another generation by the by

Will know them only in zoology.

Most of the hunters after many suns,

Made foi- their wigwams. So the story runs,

But Wells and Bena they returned no more,

And spent their honeymoon upon this very shore.

'Tvvas in the early fall that pleasant time.

When all the groves are decked with hues sublime.

That glorious season when the Summer's grace

In coruscations smiles on Autumn's ftice,

And. where doth nature ere her charms enshrine

THE LEOKND OF LAKE AVEKIL.

In tints inor<^ gorgt'ous, or so varied shine
As hy tiiy vvutfjrs Avtiril. Thy sky
Was almost ck)iulless. All was fair, but why
Has Bena decked her hair with leaves so lav'i«hl> '
She stood with Wells within a sylvan bower.
Formed by some cedar trees and mantled o\»'r
With the wild vine, and in that silent shade
Their simple matrimonial vows they ma«le.
This might not suit the fashionable' fry,
(Conventionality would call out fie !
'twould wake the censure of the stoic crew.
Religious bigots would denounce it too.
But spite the strictures of this mincing age,
I)esi)ite the rigid Moralist and Sage,

'twas solemn wedlock in my reason's eye,

And registered in God's own scroll on high.

No priest was there with solemn form to bind.

No groom or bridesmaid stood the pair behind.

No happy faces on their lot to smile,

No music i»eeled ♦* adown the long drawn aish^"

He pointed to the sky, she to the sun,

Showed both their palms, and this roi'nantic i)air xsnr
one.

The day flew by upon love's glowing wings
'Till sable night with mantle clothed all thino-s
Around them. J oy ineffable was theirs,
Their nuptial hours were all devoid of cares.
Love flings a halo round its fleeting joys,
A.nd veils the dark to-morrow that destroys.
The soft dry moss with autumn leaves o'erspread
By Nature's hand, served for their marriage bed
A deerskin robe about'their limbs they drew ;
And this was all the trapper said he knew
About connubial matters. Hymen flings
A veil in modesty o'er all such things.
The mystery of marriage beds deny,
The prying scrutiny of vulgar eye.

wliy

lavisli

I.v I

wcr,

oVr

ad**

«'.

?f'.

THE LE(JE\I) OF LAKE AVKRIL.

( )li Stay romiintic youtliful vision, stay !

( )h bloom uwliile ye Howors that strew the wa\'

Dark clouds why on life's rosy morning fall,

And unsophisticated love why pall ?

Like summer clouds the ^dlded mouKuits pass

N<'ver to come a^'ain. and then alas

Came stern r«;ality. The CHiief began

To doubt the honor of the paleface man.

What (h;tained J^ena in the woods so long ?

Dark thoughts about his mental vision thnmg.

Has his loved daughter's chastitv been seared i

Ifas she, the flower of his life that cheered •

His path through age by alien hands been reft,

And he h(;r sire to mourn her weakness left.

He called his savans versed in Indian lore,

Who in a circle sat upon the floor.

Age took tlie preceflence, each gave his views

fn speech laconic ; no redundant use

Of language for rhetori(;al eflect,

Vet shrewd and eloquent without defect.

Now Bill the Indians moral code you know

Should not be guaged by ours ; that is so.

With him revenge is virtue, not a crime.
'I'he scalp of foe to him's a thing sublime.
All the traditions of the race are reared

Upon this principle, and I'm afeai-ed
If any foe should ask for quarter there

He'd find but little virtue in his prayer.
Thus spoke Coaticook and raised his head,
His calumet he laid aside then said :
Children the paleface to my wigwam came
I knew him not by person'or by fame.
His purpose I believed was honest, fair,
I gave him fish and venison, a share
Of all my humble wigwam was possessed,
Am. ..se recti mat whereon to take liis rest.
My tribe has always given food to all

THE LE(JEND OF LAKE AVERIL.

Ami slieltor, when tliey at our dwellings call,
And the (hvnt Spirit Hinil(%s on ledman where
He feeds the stranger with his Iminhle fare.
1 showed the paleface ganif? ; uiy Bena too
Was with our l>arty hunting forests thro'
For many suns, and I was mad or blind
To dream that she was better than her kind
And trust \i^n' all alone with that paleface,
The deadly enemy of all my race.
These failing eyes will gaze upon her form
As something blasted by the thuiidor storm ;
A loathsome thing of modesty bereft ;
Would that the thunderbolt this head had cleft

Before this dire calamity transpired #

Then with a sudden savage impulse fired
He bid his warriors for their task prepare,
To scour the j)lains and forests, everywhere,
And ere the morrow's sun has run his race
Bring me he said the whiteman's scalp to grace
My wampum ; and my Bena bring to me,''
The whiteman's scalp is all I ask of ye.
He ended, and there rose a war-whoop shrill
That woke the solitude of dale and hill :
Then painted men in single tile marched by
With all the })ride of Indian pageantry.
And like a thing by dreaming fancy reared
Faded within the tall pine shades and disai)peared.

Night stole on Averil Wth heavy wings,

And clouds poro-i\+u,H, fi-owneu upon all things.

The very owl was awed to silence then ;

The duck lay motionless within the fen ;

The nighthawk cleaved no more the drowsy air ;

Nor prowled along the beach the hungry bear ; '

Or howled the wolf pack over yonder hill ;

And mutely sat the nightly whippoorwill. '

No breezes redolent of balmy flowers

Kissed the dark foliage of trees or bowers ;

THK LKiJENI) OF LAKE AVERII..

gs call,

fare.

too
ro'
d

kind
Pace,

3rm
torni ;

had cleft

are,

here,

race

to grace

ne,

slirill

ired
lisai)i)earpd.

11 things.

)wsy air ;
y bear ;
ill;

II.

jrs ;

Uut silence all pervailirig hrooth'd o'er

The woods and waters. There's a calm hefinv

A storm, th<^ spirit sleeps witliin the breast

And all the billows of the soul take rest

When some calamity is near at hand.

.Sle])t the young soldier in the magic band

Of liena's arms, entranced with visions bland.

Twas as the calm before the simoom's breath

lifiaves in its arid sweep the trail of death ;

'Hie peace of that eternal vale of snow

Kre breaks the avelanclie o'er all below ;

'I'he deathlike silence that o'er nature reigns

Kre the tornado dwastates the jdains ;

That morbid stillness that the earth enthral.s

Kre the fair city by the earthquake falls.

Jjut slumbers not the everwatchful squaw,

Home strange presentiments her bosom awe.

Suspicion lurks, and yet she can't tell why ;

[nstinct, not reason shows there's danger nigh.

She wildly peers into the gloom of night.

Thro' the faint medium of the camp fire's light.

She listens witli her ear upon the gi-ound,

Ah there's a noise, a stealthy human .sound.

With hurried motion she arouses Wells,

With hurried gestures she the danger tells.

Snatches her musket, bounds like any roe

Followed by Wells the woody vistas thro'.

Their bark canoe was moored ui>on the shore.

A Stygian gloom pervades the waters o'er.

In silence wrapped they steal along the lake,

So soft thou couldst not hear the ripples break :

The paddles noisless dip well timed doth show

The practised master hand that wields it now.

A flash, a sharp report, a whizzing ball,

And then a yell, thou wouldst have thought that all

Hell had broken do^vn the everlasting door

And all its legions o'er the threshold pour.

Smooth as the swallow skims along the deep,

THE LEGEND OF LAKE AVERIL.

Swift as the eagle in its dizzy sweep
Thro' the wild azure, flew the bark c

, - — canoe

Away, awiiy towards the inlet flew.

'Tis life to gain that spot, 'tis death to fail.

Away the warrior scouts are on the trail.

No interchange of looks, no respite now,

With long quick strokes, the light bark onwaul flew
•And glides at la^t into a little bay,

Where startled V/ildfowl flew in flocks away.

Thro' the long bulrushes they quietly drew

Their lif,tle bark, and hid it safe from view ;

Then thro' a cedar labyrinth they hied.

So intricate their task that it defied

The native instinct even of the squaw,

M iich less the paleface at the business mw.

• Now Bill, some bookmaker, a city blood

Has said * there's pleasure in the pathless wood.
If that romantic gentleman would stray
With me into the wild-woods some fine day
The error of his sentiments he'd see,
Within a cedar swamp, an hour with me,
Would sow the critter up. I'll bet you when
His sentimental lyre he tuned again.
He'd try another theme ; he'd kind a hat«
On '' pathless woods" and solitude to prate.
But to my tale, within the dismal glade,
Thro' swamp and quagmire difficult to wade,
Thro' scrubby underbrush, o'er fallen trees.
With stiff" set limbs, thro' clouds of flies that teaze,
Thro' darkness such as Dante's muse might suit,
( )r Stygian gloom for Milton's master lute.
Not e'en the f little fly's phospheric spark,
(Jheered the lone fugitives, all, all was dark.
At length the night began to wane, the sky
Paled into morn, an opening they descry.
Both faint and weary, hands and faces torn.
Sank on the mossy ground, two things forlorn.

* There is a pleasure in the pathless wood— Byron.
t The Firefly.

IL.

THE LEGEND OP LAKE AVERIL.

23-

iiJ

onwaril flew

WAy.

ew
3w :

s wood.

vhen

i;e.

tie,

liat teaze,
it suit.

•k.
lOrn.

The Soger was played out Bill, not the squaw,

She with the fondness of a woman saw

His feeble state, his fevered bloodshot eye ;

She would not leave him, she would rather die,

I'lie scouts might soon discern their wayward trail,

( )ne further effort and. if that should fail.

The torture or the stake, the scalping knife.

These she would risk for him lier joy, her life.

She brought him water and she bathed his brow.

Not many paces hence there lay below,

B^our of the warriors of Coaticook,

Who drew a bead on Wells the volley woke,

The echoes of the valleys, hill and glen.

Then dropped the poor v/orn soldier, and oh then ;

As from the jungle bounds the tiger, wild,

So Bena sprang, I tell you she was riled,

Rushed franticly unarmed upon her foes,

With superhuman strength one man she throws

Upon the sod, and ere the rescue came,

Wrenches his tomahawk, and sc ds che same,

Into his skull. No amazon of ola

Fought v.dth more desperate courage, madly bold,

She fell by him she loved, yet in death's throes

She boldly bid defiance to her savage foes.

Thus passed from life the flower of the line
Of Old Coaticook, in youth's fair prime.
Innate nobility of mind was hers.
Her features spoke the chara,cter that stirs
Our admiration, and her master parts
Amidst the (5hivalrous might move the hearts
Of nations. In another social sphere
Some daring Joan of Arc she might apj)ear,
Simirimis, or Albion's Boadicea.
Love was to her a thing entirely new,
It was not transitory, for she threw
Her soul into the object of her love ;
Something perennial that will bloom above
\n some far off and blessed Elvsian Isles,

THE LEGEND OF LAKE AVERIL.

Some *Egapemone wJiere summer ever smiles.

'riiiis fell the Chieftian's daughter and poor Wells.

He left the happy haunts my story tells

()f urban life, his home, his friends, his race,

For Bena's love, the forest and the chase,

And in the end was chased him.self and shot.

flis honeymoon was short Bill, was it not 1

But he was stalwart, faithful, honest, true,

And loved his swai-thy bride with fervor too •

And if there is a happy peaceful shore

According to the creeds and sages lore.

Where all the storms of human passions cease,

Where virtue rests upon the breast of peace,

Where love, self-sacrificing, noble, rare,

like his, shall conquer time, then he's with Bena the

I'he scouts performed their task, tlie scalp they
brought

To old Coaticook, but mentioned nought

Of Bena's death ; they told a garbled tale

Of how she fled, and how they lost her trail.

And Autumn's yellow leaf bestrewed the plain,

I'hen Winter's snows, and yet no Bena came.

The stern old Chieftian's anguish could be seen

In all his actions, in his altered mien ;

Yet there was grandeur in his swift decay

That marks the great when hope has passed away.

No murmur passed his lips, not e'en a sigh

T'old of the sorrow gnawing inwardly.

The Winter passed and joyous gladsome Spring

Came round again reviving everythinof,

But came not Bena. Then as falls tlie pine,

tSome patriarch, last of a forest line,

That stood with all majestic grandeur, lone,

When all its mates before the axe had gone ;

Ko passed Coaticook, the chief renowned

Into the spirit realms, his glorious hunting groumi.

* Egapemone, or the abode of love.

r<:

IIL.

r smiles.

THE LEGEND OF LAKE AVERIL.

poor WeJls.
Is

IS race,
ise,
i shot,
not?
rue,
or too ;

ns cease,
peace.

nth Bena tlieiv •
1
Jalp ther

It 1
<ale m
' trail. m
he plain, 1
came. i
be seen 1

cav m
assed away. M

i Sprinjj m

pine, fl

)ne, fl
jone ; ■

ti m

mg grouiKi. fl

A century and a half upon the wings
( )f never halting time it's shadow flings
< )'er Averil, since these events took place.
Of Bena's tribe oblivion leaves no trace,
I3ut legendary record doth unfold
A marvel of this Lake in days of old.
It tells how in night's silent solemn hour,
When darkness holds all nature in its power,
Two phantom forms in aspect airy, light.
With happy faces, radiant with delight
Would glide along the lake in bark canoe,
And when the morn from rosy chambers flew
Dissolved in nothingness, as fades a dream,
Or as a mist at mor|i before the sun's bright beam.

This was the yarn spun by the trapper Joe
Beside our camp-fire many years ago.
It maybe all romance, it may be true.
But anyway to pass the time 'twill do.
Well Bill my boy, here's health to thee, good night !
We must be on the water by daylight.
Then like two mummies they themselves enrollc^^
In army blankets, proof against the cold,
Passed into dreamland ere is counted ten,
And dreamed of handsome Indian girls and i)ale-face<l
men.

Poor Seth ! alas it was his last camp tale ;

lie too has passed the borders of life's vale.

His spirit in the noontide of his day

Broke from its covert, and has " gone awav."

Then nature mourned his loss by vale and dell.

Dark shadows hovered over Averil,

While gentle breezes seemed to whisper Seth farewell.

Vet oft-times when the summer sun has set.

And round the camp-fire merry friends have met

As sundry tales and anecdotes are told.

As turns the theme on memories of old

THE LEGEND OF LAKE AVERIL.

And reminiscences of days gone by,

The name of poor Seth Stone calls fortli a sidi.

Long be his memory green, and if my rhyme

In fond remembrance of the happy time

We ve passed at Averil will add one hue,

One verdant tinge his memory to renew

And dear the retrospect of pleasant days

Xhen thus my wayward muse her humble tribute pays.

THE POLITICAL TOURISTS.

[The subject of these serai-burlesque stanz-mi^ fnn«^
ratitication meetings, at Cambridge Centre Vermom

Lord, what fools these mortals lie.-Midsrmmer's Mght Drmm.

The maple groves began to show

Their varied soft autumnal glow ;

The falling leaf in whisper told

How all that's lovely fades, grows old.

That hectic flush on nature's face,

^Fhat farewell blush, that parting grace,

That coruscation over all,

That glamour that pervades the fall.

Before the ravished eye expands.

Like dreams that picture fairy lands.

Mount Mansfield towering to the sky

Meets the enraptured tourist's eye,

While laughing landscapes seemed to say

" Here come the tourists, clear the way" !

And like the phantom of a dream.

Rose old Lamoille from his dark stream

To hail the Democratic corps,

A thing he never did before.

Ye verdant rustics dotfyour tiles,

txreen mountain girls put on your smiles.

THE POLITICAL TOURISTS.

Ye maple dryads of the grove
Come forth in all the charms of love ;
Break the soft stillness of the dell,
In melting strains the chorus swell,
Kisses on Nevens pour in showers
And strew the hero's path with flowers.

First Nevons came, 1 will describe the man

With all the perspicuity I can,

A modest unassuming look he wore :

A tinge of melancholy too he bir»re.

His jet locks dashed with honorable gray

Bespoke his piety in youths heyday.

* His nose ! now on that organ I must dwell ,

It is a member which it will do well

To contemplate, as savans do maintain

t That by that organ we may ascertain

The calibre of any fellows brain.

Now Nevens had a nose, a jolly one,

Equalled by Bardolph's, but surpassed by none,

A nose that was a nose, 'twas full of soul,

That spoke of midnight revels and the bowl ,

Champagne, clam chowders, oysters, porter, beer ;

It was a bacchanalian nose 'tis clear .

And Nevens came with Bagbury and Kneel

From Portland, Maine, the public pulse to feel.

And sow broadcast along Lamoille's green vale,

On mountain side, or hamlet in the dale.

The principles of liberty, and cast

Tilden and Hendricks colors to the blast.

They came with ready chopped and dried orations.

And kept well primed with sundry deep potations.

We met at Hinckley's, dined at ten P. M.
Beef a la mode and spuds ad libitum
The bard was there, the author of this tale.
Discussing politics as well as ale.

• Shakspear's dpscription of Bardolpli's illuminated proboscis is im-
mortal, and Ainsworth admirably describes Blueskms nasal organ
in the song of Jolly Nose. .

t The great Napoleon said give me a man with a prominent nose
for great undertakings.

THE POLITICAL TOIKISTS.

0«)

" The 'last of all the bards was he " whose straios
Cliarmed the bucolic ear of Cambridge swains,
The hero too of his iuunortal story
Adorned the board, * Tom Furtive in his glory,
t Skiuucy was there and graced the poet's side
Skiuney was there and touched the poet's pride

By interrupting him in some l)right dash,

Some repartee, some intellectual flash

Which meteor like breaks forth in table talk

Over our chuck, if 'tis but beeL" or pork.

I»oet and Skinney clinched in deadly tight,

Poet had Skinney by the windpipe tight,

And 1/ut for some one's kind and friendly bantl

Skinney that night had seen the spirit laud.

Peace was restored, the turmoil soon was o'er ;

So sleeps the billow when the storms no more.

In justice to the poet I digress :
One thing up<m our hast I would impress,
I \ e alwaj^s marked where'er 'tas been my fate
To sit at some convivial board of late,
Whore'er the Celtic element abounds
Tiie dogs of war are sure to break their boutids.
And if perchance a man of Anglo caste
Speaks bold, and nails his colors to the mast.
How quick the party feeling will combine,
*' Down with the Saxou " rings along the line.
Upon the night referred to I looked round.
And midst the tunuoil tried to catch the saund.
The still small voice of friendship on my ear ;
JSut all in vain, the animus was clear.
I'eace was restored and as I took my place
And marked the scowl on each milesian fat-e,
I felt that pride no craven hand could scare,
I felt I was the only Saxon there !

liut Neveus, gentle N evens, there he goes.
He bears no malice an<i he knows no foes.

* The Peregrinations of Tom Furtive are in manuscript, but will be

published siiortljr.

t See Skinney's Epitaph at the end of this poem.

'M)

THE POLITICAL TOTKISTS.

His nose tho admiration of the crowd ; •

To own that nose a monarch mijjflit bo pron<l,
That noHG now shone, I can't desi'ribo it's }:;racc,
A cherry red, a beacon to the i'm-.e.
To calm the rnttle by the fracas wrought,
Xevens broke forth in melody nntauj?!it.
A charm upon the troubled scene he Hin^s,
Vs thus hesaiifij and spread the Eajj^le's winj^s.

NEVKNSS SON«;.
TvsK.— Boast Bce/o/ Did Englnnd.

Our liistory shows what a century's done;
May the laurels ne'er fade that our forefathers won ;
To our lamed constitution drink deep every one,
And the Democrats cause in Oolumbia.

Peace always had triumphs more potent than wars,
We all know what Jetterson did for our cause,
I low skilfjl diplomacy, (;ommerce, wise laws
Exalted the fame of rolumbia.

The spirit of freedom was genuine, true;

The cause of the <'ountry was ne'er lost to view ;

Our Eagle on wings of prosperity flevv

O'er valleys aiul plains of (_'olumbJi>

The bark of the State glided gallantly on,
Till feuds were engendered, all fouiided upc^n
The Niggers equality, darn everyone

Tliat troubled the peace of Columbia.

Then waved the palmetto flag high in the air ;
The tiercie Southern tiger sprang forth from his lair.
And war, ))loody war, left its curse and its scar
On the l)osom of weeping Columbia.

The North witii one voice the rebellion decried ;
The partizan spirit was merged in the pride
Our countrymen felt when they fought side by side
For the honor and fame of Columbia.

And when o'er tlie laiul a deep shadow there paKse»l,
When all thought the Union gone up at last,

Hut for DemocrjitK swords the Confeaorates grasp

■^ /-J /^ >» . » ♦ .

Had settled the hash of Columbia.

THK JM)Lrn(;AL TorillSTS.

id.

ers \V(»li ;

y OIK',

uiitbia.
an wars,

WW ;
lbji>

ibia.

his lair,
scar

'ied ;

by side
ib'ia.

e }>jiKso»l,

graHf>
I.

\\ lu'n llu' (bin cloiul of war rolled away from our sky.
And I'tMtcc luT white baiiiu'r unfurled ii|)on hij^h,
'I lieu fell on our ears the ]i(q)ubliean ery
For radieal ruk^ in ('(duuibia.

rriiey trampled on precedent, order, and lavs ;
Tfie country imp.overished worse than the wars;
The jj:overnuieut funds fell a prey to their paws,

And they broke the back bone of C'oluml)ia,

M'Jie subsidy business they sorely misused ;
'Vi> men of capacity honor refused ;
Sent crafty diploMiatists out who abused

Their trust, and dishonored Columbia.

*lMien let us liold fast to conservative riglit,
Arul like our brave ancestors nerve for the hslit,
I'o crush the political vampires out quite.

Who drain the life blood of Columbia.

A^ain let our eagle ascend to the sky,

For dark clouds are lowering, and troubJe is nigh,

lict Tilden for President be the w'ar cry.

And Reform for our country Columbia.

As Nevena ceased, the I'oet followed suit,

With patriotic strains he woke his lute.

Poet was loyal to the liritish Crown,

Proud of his country and its old renown,

Jlis feelings knew no change, his heart was there ;
miiH native land was all his hope, his care.

Twenty years penance at Columbia's shrine

Proved the Republic was not all Divine,
uick to resent a slur on Albion's name,
cornful when from her enemy it came,
ut when a stranger's tongue proclaimed her praise
lis heart would throb responsive to each phrase,

ith staff" and scallop shell, and sandal shoon
le trod the weSry waste of life alone,
iiack through the vista of the silent past
n sunny days his thoughts were ever cast

Ho Hung his w^ayward strains and uncouth lays
ft to the winds, he sought no meed of praise.
H some lone pilgrim of the desert plain,
'aint, parched, w ith weary foot and aching brain

THE POMTKJAL TOUKISTS.

A rotrospectivo glance and longing smile

TiunH to the palm trees of 8omo desert isle,

That in relief on the horizon show

Wherf) (u-ystal streams thi-ough verdant pastures flow,

So turned this pilgrim to his native isle,

To lumie, where all its fond endearments smile,

The only Anglo-saxon in the throng

This was the idle Vjurden of his song.

THE POET'S SONG.

ii;

When discord and anarchy ride on the gale,
And raving fanatics o'er order prevail,
Distracjted I turn to my own native isle,
Where calm social pleasures the hours beguile

And tears will arise '

To my weary eyes,
When I dream of home and its thousand ties.

Albion my country I yearn for thee still,
I wander in slumber o'er meadow and hill.
Where soft dreamy landscapes in retrospect rise.
And long buried memories gladden mine eyes ;'
While up in the sky
The lark carols higli ♦

And melody wakens of days gone by.

I prize the warm hearts of Columbia's sons.
The same ruddy stream in our kindred veins runs-
Hut Albion my warmest atfections are thine, '

By absence unaltered, matured by time,

Oh cold, cold will be

This heart when from me
oblivion shall bear my remembrance of thee.

Pollute not the tongue with the envious phrase,
Hut yield her the frank honest tribute of praise'-
Though Freedom thy land with her choicest gifts soa\ s
They are but the fruits from the old Saxon boughs • '

Then sing oJ her fame.

Her glory proclaim, •

And give to the mother-land honor, not shame.

Xo rude revolution of elements jar
Her firm social fabric, in peace or in war,
The calm sober spirit of Judgment presi(tes
In the soul of Briton whatever betides
But wake not, his ire

THE POLITICAL TOURISTS.

lie,

vvstiiros (low,

* smile,

ile,

guile,

ties.

>et rise,
eves :

» 7

IS,

<ih\n runs;
tie,

lee.

irase,
iraise ;

St giilH sows,
I boughs ;

arne.

Or kituile his fire,
lie trusts in the arm of the (iod of his sire.

r^ot (lomagogues talk of my eountry's decay,
SiKMild she as a power or nation give way,"
Her colonies then would her tlac; keep unfurled,
And Albi(m in them still be great o'er the world.

While through every age.

Her historic page
Would live in the patriot, poet and sage.

Then blow adverse winds 'gainst her monarchy strong,
And rave ye wild billows and powers of wrong,
In fruitless commotion around my loved home,
When loyalty stands like a wall round the throne,

Her banner will still

Its mission fulfil,
And triumph o'er discord, oppression and ill.

And now when the partisan spirit is fanned,
Ry all men's worst passions throughout this wide land,
How proudly a Firiton nuiy point to the star
That shines on the eastern' horizon afar,

Its glory, its fame

Through all times the sjjme,
The heritage only a Briton can ctlaim.

The morning now was drawing near at hand

When Nevens, Kneel and Bagbury must stand

Upon the rostrum, and with serious face

Pour forth their eloquence with ease and grace.

But Kneel complained that Nevens' nose looked bad ;

And only worthy of a London cad.

He thus expressed himself, take my atlvice,

And ere you slumber, lay your nose on ice.

Fair was the sky, and rosy was the morji ;

Soft came the breezes over hill and lawn,

To kiss the tiag of Tilden and reform.

I watched it floating in the sun's bright ray 5,

And far into this country's future days

My thoughts were cast. Ood spare the ba^-^s

Said I, but here my reverie was marred,

F<u' Bagbury was shouting in the yard :

For God's sake where's the whiskey ? I am dry.

Keho responded hoarsely, so am I !

THK POIJTICAL TonilSTS.

CocktailM, Ilko lover's proniisivs wont down,

Ni'VCIlS l»(>y;;ili to fnid IlilMScIf ill towii.

Tlic spi'c^clicM of the day wore tlicii n»h(!iiis<'<l,

With snndiy new itloas iiitcrMiKMscHl.

'I'licii caiiM'tho brcakfrtHt, perk and Imm^I" a^aiin,

Itiittcr and (lies, enough lor liiin|Lfrv inon,

Cocktails onco more, and so tin* inorning passed

Till the auspices hour eaiiie round at last.

Soft iinisi<' echo'd o\ er dale and hill,

With strains that tell of liherty and fill

The Patriot's soul with fervor, while on hi<;li

Wave<l i\w bright Vianner of our liberty

Ancient of days, old Chad wick took the chair,

A Jackson DenKxirat, with hoary hair.

Ife called one (/aptain Knrtnee from the rear

Who had l)eei. onee a British Fusilier;

Mad been in India, Malta, the Crimea ;

Soj<»urned in StranU)oul, seen Sophia's dome ;

Mad visited the Vatican of Rome.

At (iibralter smoked and drank champasne;

'i'hen for Columbia he crossed the main.

A frank cosmopolite in truth was he.

Ami now a Demoerat as we may see.

As Kurtnee took the floor loud plaudits raiif;'.

He made a very dashing coup de maiv.

With elegance of rhetoric he rose ;

With scorching sarcasms hp swept his foes,

Without spread eagleism or a phiz.

No thin nonentities of speecli were his.

And as he had been grinding many days,

I think the Cax)tain earned his meed of praise.

Kneel followed next iq costume neat and trim,

The ladies s-miles were treasured up for him.

His honied words and noble Roman beak,

His auburn locks, his smooth and youthful (^heek.

Won what Demosthenes would t^eem a prize,

The sweet approval of the ladies' eyes.

♦'Jet round the women Kneel my boy and then

.s:>

Tin: POLITHAL TorUlsTS.

Yon n«'i'(l not fare a straw about llio nion.

rims with a ^ra^•f!l'ul t'aso and mellow tono

II.. rharmi'<| tlu' thronK with d.xiiu'nro his own.

Lower the fla«! the fatal .|i<' is cast.
Lower the MaR ! that for tlu' .•(sntury |) ist
lias wav('<l tlu' cnihh'in over land and sea,
The cniblem of a country's lilH'rty.
i:ow<M- the lla^'! it was not made to wnve
n'vr Freedom's ruined shrine, and o er her ki"\ e.
Tis mockery to keep it now unlurled
The mark of s<-orn for despots throujih the world :
Or as a hauhle for iunbitiouslunuls
Imu- demaK«»f?"<''^» <*'" predatory hands
Of lucr<' lovin^r incn, whose sorded tame
Is built upon this ruined <'(mntry's shame,
our fatlK^rs earned this embh-m with their blo.»d ;
On hard fou^dit tiehls their ranks together stood.
With fortitude no human power could stand
Thev drove their proud oppressors Irom th«Han.i ;
Vnd' when the long-lost <h)ve again returned
To bless the social h<^arth that war had spurned,
When patriotism reaped its just reward
And phMitv crowned again the ample board.
When tears of jov ran down the war-worn tace,
\iul tViends long i)arted met in fond embra<-e.
As rolled the war cloud from Oolumbia's shore,
.\s died the echo of the cannon's roar,
'riien did our fathers over land and sea
<Jive to the breeze this bamun* of the tree.
Thus as a people's heritage it caiiie,
Twas theirs to guard it aiul uphold its tame.
Fresh fr.mi our fathers' hands it bore no stain,
It waved a welcome, seen across the mam,
And tSaxon, Celt, with Teuton, Swede aii'l <.aul,
Found 'neath its ample folds a home tor all.
In pea(!e or triumph no proud foe could lower.
On foreign seas its presence was a power.
Hut oh! how futile are man's hopes, how vain !
F'en liberty no foot-hold can retain !
Here where her noblest fabric wisd<un reare<l,
Here where inan'w innate rights were most revered.
Here where unerring justice held the scales,
Lo, freedom weeps, and patriotism pales.
As'down the valley of eternal snows
Leaps tiie huge ayalancire from long repose,
And overwhelms the orange groves and vme.
When summer broods o'er landscapes all divine ;
So vice invades Columbia's fair domain ;
So freedoms Temple sinks upon the plaru.

THE POLITICAL TOURISTS.

Amidst this chaos mercenary hordes,

Charlatan knaves, or thieves in other words,

The rod of power wield, with pride elate

Degrade the sacred ofhces of state ;

Place men in power, post of honor, trust.

With privilege to gratify their lust

For sorded gain, in any* shape or form.

And drive out honest statesmanship by storm.

Oh, if Diogenes were here to-day.

And to our capitol his steps should stray,

Where once the wisdom of a nation ruled,

Now by a thing called "Grantisni" befooled.

How long he'd wander ere his light would fall

Upon an honest statesman 'mongst them all.

Where there is life there's hope, the proverb tells ;

A dormant power within the crater dwells

That's smouldering, not quenched, it's waking powers

May yet burst forth upon this land of ours,

And overwhelm the traitors with it's tires

Who dare destroy the landmarks of our sires.

In forty million souls there still must be

Home latent fire that moves them to be free.

Have they so soon forjjot the maxim true,

" True to' yourselves and ye will never rue " ?

Have the stern truth their hardy fathers taught

With patriot zeal, and minds with wisdom fraught.

Been all forgotten ? Has the heritage

Of glory stamped upon the immortal pege

Of Historv so soon been lost upon

Th' ignoble sons of noble Washington ?

Oh that some master spirit now would soar

Above the party strite and rabble roar

Of politics and anarchy, some sun

Absorbing all our rays of thought in one ;

Some cynosure to which all hearts would tend,

A mind that could men's stubborn passions bend.

Oh blow ye winds of Ireedom, breathe again

On these dry bones of this sepulchral plain.

Come with thy vital powers that they may rise,

The chainless spirit rouse, that never dies :

The spirit once that bid the Roman wake

When the conspiring Cataline was at his gate.

The cold heart fire, that it may yearn once more

For honest tame, as it was wont of yore.

When as one man our ranks in phalanx stood

And on their country's altars shed their blood.

The Public press which daily doth relate

Political events in every state,

But chronicles the crimes whose shadows fall

Like the handwriting on Belshazzar's wall.

Those shadows which presage the sure decay

Of Thrones, Dominions, or Democracy,

THE POLITICAL TOURISTS.

DWOIH

It,

Tlie powers that be, which otherwise we call
The executive, chief magistrate and all,
Seem lost to every sense of moral i hame,
tJnmindful of the shade that blasts their fame.
"The great Republic," or as runs the phrase
*'The pure Democracy of modern days,"
A Tanner Doge and Oligarchy sway,
Venice had none such in her darkest day.
But 'midst the gloom that overclouds our sky
Some honest men take heart when they descry
A man of Tilden's calibre arise,
With heart and nerve for great emergencies.
A man of sterling worth whose mind is bent
To give this land a settled government,
And bring the ship of state safe through the storm
With the unerring compass of reform.
And as the rock in boM relief stands forth
To meet the swelling billow in its wrath ;
As wave on wave against its bulwarks roll
And die in ambient foam upon that goal ;
Nor all the elements in force combined.
Nor raging storm nor thunderbolt or wind
Can move it from its adamantine base,
Firm, grand, immoveable it holds its place.
So stands our Tilden at this trying hour
Against encroachments of despotic power.
On him the world now bends its anxious eye,
Hark ! 'tis his loud appeal, I hear him cry :
From the broad bosom of the prairie plain,
From the far slopes on the Pacific main,
From northern forests and the Redman's post,
To where the Gulf wave laves our southern coast.
And thence to where the Atlantic billows roll,
Awake ! shake off the lethargy of soul.
Bring all your moral forces to the field,
Be firm, unanimous, your cause your shield.
Bear up against vour stealthy, wary foe.
Who, bent on selfish ends, would overthrow
The sacred right your Sires so dearly won
i;n the red fields with noble Washington.
Stirred with the memories its glories cast.
Snatch the bright banner from the traitor's grasp,
Unfurl it yet again with patriot hand
O'er the broad bosom of a suffering land.
With cause so pure the triumph will be yours,
'Twill shine in grateful hearts w;hile time endures.
Then will prosperity thy commerce bless,
~ And lasting peace the wasted land redress,
While plenty spreads her store with lavish hand
Upon a grateful and smiling land.

THE POLITICAL TOURISTS.

Then Nevens rose and all around was still,
Red was his nose, and purple was his gill,
Ye might have heard a pin fall, still as death
The brilliant throng of hearers held their breath.
*''What is it thus their hearts and souls can bind ?
The power of thought, the magic of the mind "
Nevens A\as humorous, his happy flow
Of eloquence was stinging tho' 'twas slow.
Corruption cower'd when his lash came do /n,
And virtue doff'd in deflference her crown.
Republicans grew pale as Nevens drew
The hydra of their party full to view,
And licked him with his own ensanguined garment,
Yet this was done as tho' the man no harm meant,
Oh Nevens, Nevens ! when thou had'st the floor,
Shades of the mighty dead did o'er thee soar,
Columbia's self hung o'er her darling son.
And with each rounded period cried well done!

** Arma vi7'umque cano'' quite .iu/ait

In all the leading topics of the day.

The Soldier took the floor, and seem'd to feel

A craving for a foe to match his steel.

With measured tread he thoughtfully advanced,

Then on the gay assemblage briefly glanced,

And. like an old Campaigner, cautious, slow,

On Hayes and Wheeler's flank he dealt a blow.

Familiar with the line and tented field,

He had the courage that will never yield.

Indomitable courage, chainless, free,

Sparta had never worthier son than he.

His anecdotes were humorous, his thrusts

Always went home, His strictures they were just,

In coming to a climax he was grand.

And dealt his bolts like Jove around the land.

His peroration too was quite sublime ;

Worthy of Cicero and olden time.

His words ran thus if I remember right,

The passage may not be verbatim quite :— ^^

* Byron'B Bride of Abydos.

THE POLITICAL TOURISTS.

•inent,
pant,

ust,

"Here in Republican Vermont's my field,

F'U conquer or ye'U bear me on my shield

Hack to my Sparta, that is Portland, Maine,

Back to the arms of my old dad again.

Green mountain boys think of your hardy sires

C)f Ethan Allen ! emulate his fire !

Tyconderoga's gates flew open wide,

When Ethan in a voice of thunder cried,

"Down with thine arms and yield proud foe to roe,

This is Jehovah's mandate, his decree,

The Continental Congress doth demand,

'J'his stronghold from this British hireling band,

And in his columns went in grand array !

The rights he fought for I uphold to day,

Now fellow citizens demand from those,

Those Scallawags that led you by the nose,

Instant surrender of the reins of power,

Down on the Capitol let vengeance shower,

Kick in the panels of the White House door.

And wipe out Grantism for evermore.

Ring out the tocsin through this injured land,

Lo justice weeps and rings her lilly hand.

My mission is to aid her injured cause.

And down sat Bagbury 'midst great applause.

The tourists now as everybody knows,

Were getting dry, when ancient Chadwick rose,

And called for cheers for Tilden, and again

Three more with tiger, for the men from Maine.

Then melting music stole upon the ear.

And off the tourists went to get their beer.

Alas my muse must prune her wing.
Home future day she'll soar and sing,
How in the villages and towns, t

In Fairfield, Bakersfield and down
In Underbill and Fairfax too,
The tourists down the gauntlet threw.
But no Republican would chance,
*"The shiver of a broken lance".
» Iranhoe.

THE POLITICAL TOURISTS.

Suflice it that the tourists wore,
Their laurels well, and what is more,
They left upon the mountains green,
Besides some sterling truths I ween,
The trail of genius ! nothing more?
Yes empty bottles by the score.

EPITAPH ON "OLD SKINNEY."

["Old Skinney" is a fictitious name for a demure look-
ing individual who figured on the construction of Rail-
ways in Canada and thg United States, and possessed
the wonderful faculty of skinning every person he
met. Those who in their path through life have once
met this illustrious personage will easily identify
him again as delineated under the appropriate sobri*-
quet of Skinney.]

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust !

Here lies old Skinney as all men must.

Waiting his doom when the trumpet's sound

Shall break the calm of Ins sh ep profound,

He'd the tongue of a saint, with the heart of a .Tew,

And the sanctified face of a metliodist too,

Which bore in its aspect a sinister leer,

Depicting the "fraud" unmistakably clear.

He was ofttimes found at the shrine of Venus.

In trade Old Skinney the trader skinned.
His creditors too, but never was pinned.
He skinned the Sheriff" upon the " line,"
He skinned the slippery Yankee fine.
He skinned tfie rich and he skinned the poor,

The virtuous woman and sable

The widow in weeds and the courtesan,
The foppish ass and the beggarman,
He skinned the laboring man indeed,
Behind the counter he made him bleed.
Contractors and Subs he skinned them too :

EPITAPH ON Ol-n SKINNKY.

He'd skin a man of his very last sous.
He skinned the Saints of a meeting house,
He'd skin a Parson as soon as a louse.
He skinned till all his strength was past,
Then grim old Death skinned Skinney at last.

KEFIVECrnoNS ON THK F0REG01N(4.

ook-
Rail-
^ssed
n he
once
ntify
[)bri-

ew,

Old Skinne;y's victims w<mld like to know

Old Skinney's place in the realms of woe,

Did he eariV with him the power to skin

The shadowy phantoms of death and sin ?

Does he there possess that meek old face.

That air of reverential grac^e,

That head of patriarchal grey.

Where all h's skinning propensities lay ?

If so the Devil had need look out,

For Skinney would skin him out of doubt,

\ row would follow we know right well.

And the Devil would kick old Skinney from liell.

To the realms of bliss he'd then repair,

But never a foot would he enter there,

For Peter who collects the toll,

Would bar the door on his skinny soul.

Excluded then from the realms of night.

Debarred admission to realms of light,

Denied the precincts of both to gain,

He'd make for this mundane sphere agam,

\nd around the scenes of his life's highway,

Old Skinney's ghost would be skinning away.

\ve Maria! let men devout,

Pray that old Skinney be never let out

From the shades of hell on the world again,

And that Satan may keep him safe, ^^^^

KPITAPH ON A nilOKKN TOHACCO PIPK,

EPIT^?h 017 A BROKEN TOBACCO PIPE.

Here lies a little tube ol" wonclerous power,

Once the fonipanion of an idle hour.

A foe to care, sweet charmer of the soul,

What dreams were (ronjured from thy magic bowl.

Ah who could fancy tiithy as thou art,

How sweet the influence thou could'st impart ;

How many wounds of sorrow thou hast balmed.

How oft the turbid passions thou hast calmed,

How many weary hours by thee beguiled,

How sweet thy fragrance when Aurora smiled.

Under the pall and gloom of sable night,

How welcome was thy beacon to the sight ;

Formed from the kindred element of man.

And doomed like him to last but for a span,

I^ike him when all his hopes as incense rise,

The censer breaks, and prone on earth it lies.

The gaudy meerschaum p'haps may take the eye,

With amber mouth-piece, stem of ebony ;

The cigarette or fragrant mild cigar

The dupe of fashion would prefer by far.

Let frigid moralists thy charms decry.

And colder stoics pass thee heedless by;

Though pomp and pride their tinseled gauds display

There's nothing equal to a simple clay.