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E"i7 1/5 70.4^3 hiiUrt.i acconliiiK tn Act ol I'ai lianutit ..l Caiia.la m tiK- vcar (.ne Tli.n.sa.id Mir- llun.ln.l an.I o,,, ' I>y M STAM.i;v I.IIII..II, at till DctiaiL " ni(;iit of AKrirulttlK; INTRODUCTION. I know not why I write, Yet must I sing — Perchance I may indite '^hat which will bring Joy to some aching heart, Lalm to some wounded breast- To play in hie my part. And find in Heaven my rest. ?i-^^l«.4'?it VICTOR ^ FOUND. (almly beams the pale-faced maiden. She, whom mortals call the moon, With her silvered arrows laden, That are such a precious boon To the lone benighted horseman, And his gallant patient steed. While upon his way he hastens, As if too intent to heed Nature's beauty spread around him — On each side the stately pines Tower like giants, far above him ; While across his way in linei- Stretch their shadows o'er earth's mantle Bright, of pure and glistening snow ; While above the stars now twinkle On the fair scene spread below. And far back the dim aisles winding ; Crossing here, and crossing there ; VICTOR. All day long, to echoes sounding, Of the woodman, free from care, As he wields his glittering weapon. Hewing down the forest kings ; Happy in his humble station, While he works he gaily sings. But all now are hushed and silent, Speaking but with Nature's voice : The tall pines, with scarce a movement. Whisper of the snow and frost. And along the dim aisles sounding. Floats strange music, wierd and grand Next come voices deep resounding, Of past ages, ere this land Felt the tread of pale-faced nations E'en before the red-man came. Nature's life — her strong pulsations Beat from east to western miin ; While above, the whirlin.r meteors. Worlds on worlds, their places fill ; Guided by the kind Creator's Loving hand, they move so still, Not a jar is felt in passing. And the finite mind confused, Soon is los., as fast amassing Wonders, that sublime, infused In the traveller, who, beholding, Stays his charger's onward course. To his mind these thoughts unfolding VICTOR. With a new and vivid force : — " When our eyes behold Thy wonders, With the poet, v/e may say. Who long since in tuneful numbers. Sang his grand and sacred lays ; ' What is man that Thou art mindful Of him?' And how small he seems. Yet for him so weak and sinful (Jod's own Son came to redeem." Thus the horseman, deeply musing With bent head and loose-held reins, Onward rides, his brave steed choosing His own path, his stall to gain. Suddenly he stops, and neighing, Rouses, from his musing deep. His young master, who, awaking, Peers around the cause to seek. What is that before them lying Right beside the beaten way ? Now he hears an infant crying, And he hastens that he may Solve this mystery strange, of midnight. On this lonely silent road, 'Nealh the stars and ghostly moonlight. Far away from man's abode. Now he nears the unknown object. And his steed stmts to one- side ; While the wail upon the midnight Stillness tells him 'lis a ( hild. VICTOR. Eagerly he bends above it — 'Tis a woman's form stretched there, As though life had just gone from it ; Pale and cold the face so fair. Still within her plaid shawl ample, A sweet babe her arms embrace. " Who could 'neath their cruel heel trample One with such a sweet young face.-*" Quickly calling to his charger, 'Cross whose back his burden lays, Mounts himself, and on his shoulder Rests her head, as his mute gaze. For a moment, lights upon her. Then the next, away they speed To a place of warmth and shelter, Of which now he's much in need. By him spin the pine trees stately ; O'er him whirl the twinkling stars ; Till a light beams out but faintly, And the steed stops at the bars. Loudly shouts he for assistance. And the door swings open wide ; Then an answer through the distance ; Soon a girl is at his side. In her arms the babe he places. And they hasten to the house. Where, with eager anxious faces, Gathered all around the couch. Seeking signs, if yet the life-blood VICTOR. Flows, though slowly, through those veins ; While the little mite of childhood Now is lost in Slumber's realms In the cradle, large and cozy, Drawn before the fireplace warm, With its cheeks all flushed and rosy Sleeps, not dreaming aught of harm. And a picture, striking, make they. In this cabin built of logs, With its rafters large and heavy. And its walls with seams and jogs. Here, the couch with its fair burden. With Death's chill upon her brow ; At its head the little naiden. With plain features open brow ; Daughter of the kind-faced woman Who, beside the couch, doth stand. Ready, if some sign or token Tells, that Death, his strick'ning hand, But withdraws, though for a moment, That, her simple remedies. She may use ; but not a movement. On that marble face, she sees. At the foot the traveller standing. Silently his watch doth keep, Tall his form, noble, commanding, Kent his head in musing deep. While o'er all the tallow candle 't=«?:it.i»«f 10 VICTOR. Throws it's dim uncertain lij^ht ; And the shadows dart and liemble Round the fire place, warm and bright. Suddenly himself arousing A few hurried words to speak, Goes forth, and his steed remounting, Hastes, a doctor's aid to seek At a backward country village. Scarce a leagu? from his lone cot ; The doctor there may dose and pillage, For a rival he has not. While behind, the child and mother Anxiously their vigils keep, Mingled sympathy and wonder I>rive away all thought of sleep, And the candle, and the firelight O'er the scene, iheir pale rays, shed On these watchers of the midnight. O'er the living and the dead, While without, the pine trees whisper, And the beech leaves, dry and sere. Seem to start and then to quiver, As if struck with sudden fear. And the pale moon shines serenely. And the stars look coldly down On all scenes, however keenly Sorrow reigns, or joy is found. u VICTOR. THK CHII.DRF.X. Fair the morn, and fair the picture That Old Sol, as o'er the trees Smiles he forth ppon all Nature Spread before his bright gaze, sees. Hill and dale of woodlands verdant, Touched with the quickening life of Spring ; Decked with foliage abundant, 'Mongst which birds, their sweet lays, sing. While along the lakes and rivers. That two empires vast divide : That the moon's ray lights and silvers ; Gilds the sun's their bosoms' wide ; All along the Northern border, 'Mid the forests' waving green, Towns unfurl their smoky banners- Dotting all the lands are seen Nestling farm-homesteads of beauty Side by side with log huts small, Which for our grand-sires did duty For the homes that war's rude call Brought them forth from to do honor To their dear old Mother-land, Loyal to th' United Empire In Canada they took their stand. Once again we see the forest Of the murmuring nodding pines ; Broken is the sway of Jack Frost ; II 13 VICTOR. Summer's Sun on all now shines. Some few years have rolled their cycle Since we passed along this way, With the changes that Time's fickle Hand works out unceasingly. But the cottage, still as sentry On this lonely forest road, Nestles mid its ramparts snugly; Makes a poet's fit abode. On the grassy upland near it A « nail boy is at his play, Gathering the pretty flowerets That bedeck the month of May. Ne-'.r him seated, pensive gazing, Is a girl whose thoughtful brow ' Speaks an intellect awakening. While the dark blue eyes allow Glimpses of its subtle workings, Of its wondering eagerness, Of its longings, timid shirkings. Conscious of its meagreness ; Till the face, though plain and homely, Is illumed with Beauty's lamp ; Transformed into one now comelv, For, upon it is the stamp Of a soul pure, truthful, loving, Which the art of social life, Casting masks to hide the woman True, or one with falsehood rife, VICTOR. Ne'er had touciied -a child of nature, Trustful in her ii:nocence ; Seated thus, she forms a picture, Flowers and wood as supplements. Soon the boy returning, laden With bright flowers of perfume rare. Brings them to this gentle maiden, With the utmost tender care ; Her, from far-off dreamhnd rousing, By a shower of fragrant stars. On her head and lap descending, (Naught this perfect picture mars.) Then they weave the perfumed blossoms Into wreaths of varied hues ; While sweet thoughts play in their bosoms ; For a time they weave and muse. Tall this lad of slender stature. Clad in h«/"!espun cloth of gray ; Eyes that speak a thoughtful nature ; iMouth and forehead made to sway. Down his back in unshorn ringlets Falls his golden hair at will ; Joy and sorrow flit in wavelets O'er his face his eyes to fill, Though the ardent sun of Springtime His fair features oft has kissed. Nothing but the blush that sometimes Dyes his cheek, tells where it pressed. J3 »4 VICTOR. Suddenly he stops and listcrjs - 'Tis the oriole's thrilling lay, As his mate for bits of lichen Hunts through all the bright Spring day, That her swinging nest of comfort She may for her birdlings weave, 'Jo be rocked without an effort, i'anoplied by fresh green leaves. Turning round he softly ask, her,— " Minnie, do you ever hear, When the pine trees nod and whisper, Voices low and sad and drear ? Oft I hear them just at evening, When the frogs their chorus sing. And I wonder at their meaning ; Passing strange the thoughts they bring. And sometimes when I am lying On a soft, green, grassy knoll, And I watch the thin clouds sailing Lazily towards their goal Down behind the line of tre'^tops, Where the sky bends lo" to meet,' And I wonder if their course stop's ; If their journey is complete." Smiling, Minnie gently answers,— "No their course is not yet done ; Through vast space their way they traverse, Till at length the great red sun Coaxes other drops of water VICTOR. Kroin their heaving briny bed ; Swift they speed up, fast, still faster, Till at last they meet and wed With their fellows, in these thin clouds ; Soon they dark and darker ^row, And in Summer from the rain-clouds. And in Winter those of snow. Then the little pearly raindrops, Swelling in their high estate. Fall to moisten thirsty grain crops, Or a tiiiy violet. And he listens, wrapt and thoughtful— "Oh what wonders we may know ! What true pleasure, e'er delightful, Deeper in research to go ! " Soon their pretty wreaths are woven ; Then together, hand in hand, Walk they o'er, to where a wooden Cross, a grave to mark, doth stand. Tenderly they strew the wild flowers ; Lovingly they place the wreaths ; Sadly lingeringly he murmurs " Mother sleeps these flowers beneath." Oft has Minnie told the story Of that one bleak Winter's night, When Jack Frost within his hoary Arms enwrapped that form so slight. Not a trace of her ba§ ever t5 i6 VK roR Come to c!ear the mystery, And the only clue behind her, Left to tell the history, Is a chain and locket golden, WiM'.in which two miniatu:es— F r's with hair wavy and golden ; His with handsome dark features. Now she sleeps— all cares and sorrows ; All the grief, and all the tears ; All the waiting for to-morrows. With their waning hopes and fears- All are past and gone forever ; In he lonely forest grave Low she lies, while soft above her Tlie forest trees their branches wave. Is this all ? Is this the ending Of a being filled with life? Dreamless sleep ? to ashes crumbling ? Nothing more ? Then why this life ? Can we think because the body. The clay-prison of the Soul, Falls and crumbles, that the inmate Reaches not its eternal goal ; Uoth not Nature teach us plainly In the seedling as it falls. From which new life springs forth gladly That lay hidden in its -.v-alls ? Why within us are these iongings ? J VICTOR. Why this void > this vague unrest ? \Vhy these discontented strivings ? Why this never ending quest After peace that this world's offers (Rich and grand though they may be) E'en the very best it proffers, The Soul's need can not supply ? No ! within man, (lod hath planteu Principles that are Divine : Through Sin's darkness, still hath granted Light, wifhin the Soul, to shine. Never will these eager longings Flee, nor will the Soul's long quest Finished be, nor ceased its throbbings. Till in Christ it finds its rest, AT SCHOOL. 17 i Years have passed with all their changes; Time has winged his rapid flight ; Over all his influence ranges ; Felt his touch of joy or blight. In a pretty country village. Hedged all round with woodlands green ; Or the lands where axe and tillage Made broad farms, where woods had been, Stands a rectory, partly hidden By the shade-trees' waving boughs j Brick its walls ; iu windows open j ETH '■'wmwfnvwfm^M i8 V'K lOK. While in front, full many a rose Sheds its perfume on the still air— "''is a day in early Junc-- While around, the garden /lowers '-•ght the yreen lawn with their b'.oom. Her ■ upon a bench are sitting ^ '• )y and woman young : While o' rhead the birds are flitting ; Hushed now is their morning song. ' Minnie, now the fond wife of him, Who, upon that Winter's night, I'ound the mother with her infant lying neath the moon's pale light. He has since become the rector <>'" this pleasant rural charge : Minnie's mother, and young \'ictur, live w?th tl..^m, their joy to enlarge Minnie still ihe f.itndly counsellor, And whom \ ictor always seeks, All his doubts and trials to tell her I'hat at school he often meets ; And to day as he's been reading Of thecau.-es of the tides, How the mighty ocean heaving, Swiftly landward then it glides ; And, how far beneath ifs surface, In their dark-gieen ocean-bed, (Jems of beauty almost priceless All unseen their lustre shed. vi{ roK And rare plants, their verdant folinj;e, Wave ahovf the oyster shell : And huge monsters crawl and rmnniagc I'or their prey in some dark cell. "Oh : " cried N'lotor, " What jjreat wonders ! " "Oh, that I could know yet more I Just to think of life far under 'I'hc deep ocean-billow's roar I NN'hen I read the lives of great men — Heroes, statesnien, writers, all, \» ho by deeds, or with tlieir sage pen. Wrought great things upon Time's wall. Men, who lead where others follow ; Who, because of the Truth they teach. Rise above their lesser fellows, NV'ho, such heights, seem ne'er to reach. I then feel high aspirations ; dreat deeds I would gladly do ; K'en would suffer great privations, That to these I might be true." Minnie smiles, though pearly tear-drop-, On her lashes, unshed lie : .\s she gently smoothes his bright locks In low tones makes this reply. "> ir MINNIKS RKI'l.V. C'oiint not your trials or your sorrows—. Life were else an empty dream ; Vacant were all the ' To-murrows' Had they but the sun's I)ri|j;lit yleam, 20 VICTOR. Fahhful to your trust be ever, K'en though it be very small ! Do the least things with endeavor ! Then will come a higher call. He a weakling is, who never Felt Adversity's chill breath ; Strong is he, and stronger ever, Who, fierce foes, tramples beneath. Then, your disappointments, welcome Knowmg that a higher life ■ l:'^' '^'^'■"^^ >'°". t'U y»ur bright Home ^ on may reach-there free from strife. As she ceases they sit silent ; Then he tells her of the school Where the teacher, with voice strident, i^iolds his undisputed rule. How are ranged the younger children r "?Ta3 26 Victor. (lone in every trace of sorrow I""rom her face, where shines a light liright and radiant, while sweet music, Such as he's ne'er hcMrd before, Seems to be all round about him, And he longs that he may soar To those realms of light and glory ; But she points him towards a field Vast, whose sands are red and gory, As with blood ; while he beholds Throngs of people, jostling, crowding ; Some, with merry laughter gay, After butterflies that, flying Now quite near and then away. Are pursuing; whiiC among them Some, with bent and withered frame, Work a treadmill whose dull routine Seems to hold their highest aim. Others pass with long-drawn faces. And with manners gravely staid ; But behind them are the traces Of dire havoc, that they make By some darts, hurled at the weak cnes Slyly, from beneath their clokes ; While they seek, with silvery sweet tone?, Others in their wiles to coax. In the throng some few, with faces Bright and beaming forth with love, Seem to seek the hardest places, VICTOR. *7 * i * As for right they strongly strive ; But the most are bh'nd and waywara ; Toiling on in deep despair ; Cirovelling and looking eaithward — There all darkness harrowing care ; Tiiougli a cross stands just above them — Only look and they may live — For a Saviour's love shines o'er them ; For, all, Jesus came to save. And the sleeper hides and trembles As he sees such matchless love ; Ah ! how blind I how weak and sinful ! As against such love he strove. But the Saviour's accents tender Comes to him with melting force ; All of self to Him surrender I He, of true life, is the source. "Come to me ye heavy-hearted ; I will unto you give rest. ' If we'd from our sins be parted, (ireatly would our lives be blest. And a great awe falls upon him ; And he feels his mother's tones Coming, thrilling through and through him- " Go and seek the erring ones I " Then she smiles upon him sweetly. As, with beaming looks of love. Leaves him, soaring up so swiftly To those realms of joy above. 38 VICTOR. And upon him falls a darkness - With a quick start he awoke. At his heart a pang, whose sharpness For a time, all thought doth choke. Slowly, silently uprising, Looked around on field and wood ; Then his heart was filled with praising ; And he knelt upon the sod^ There to pray his sins forgiven ; Strength to battle for the Truth ; From his past self to be riven ; Lost in Christ by His great love. Since, within his life has entered A strange sweet uplifting force ; On fresh aims his thoughts are centered, Shaping life in a new course. And, as now he stands serenely \Vatching all who pass before ; Still, a sharp pang strikes him keenly, Of regret, for never more Will he tread these halls as classman, (For 'tis Convocation Day.) Happy hours since, as a Freshman, Came he here thoughtlessly gay. Has he had, with many sad ones ; Many filled with anxious care ; Many having aspirations Noble deeds to plan and dare. n ■I f:'!'- *.'^'r&?' 'mUl^;. ■''''■■:>. VICTOR. Many airy castles builded On the plain of glorious Fame, With Youth's sanguine hopes all gilded, That the World's praise he might claim. Vanished are these shadowy phantoms ; In their stead the burning Truth : Love the source of all his actions ; Love the joy of Age and Youth. And he says " Gcod-bye " forever To his happy College days. Behind the Past ; before the Future ; Our time of action— the To-Days. MABLE. Cool and clear the glad Spring morning Awakens slowly o'er yon hill — The fairy flowers the glades adorning, Listening to the rippling rill Gliding softly o'er the mosses, Creeping through the springing grass. O'er the rocks it leaps and dashes, Hill and dale doth quickly pass. Calm and peaceful the St. Lawrence Slept with chilled and icy brow. In its bed of downy softness, Of the pure and glistening snow ; Till the smiling sun came nearer. And the warm winds kissed 1(5 chqek, Lovingly awoke the dreamer, 29 ' •"-X^BIUtm.lSmr'J 3® VICTOR. Who, its home, sped on to seek In the ocean vast and houndless, As it flowed past vale and wood ; "I'ween high banks, calm, deep, and soundless ; O'er the rapids rocky bed. On this morn the golden sunbeams Light the dancing ripples gay. Fresh awakened from their sweet drcains. Ready for the joys of day And the Isles, that in the moonlight Wondering gazed at her pale face, Smile forih gladly to the sunlight ; Though there still is left the trace Of past weeping, in the dew-drops. Nature's tears now sparkling bright On the g.ass, or waving tree-tops, With a changing fitful light. 'Midst this picture stands a maiden, Far out on a wooden pier Of one 'mong the Thousand Islands Known to all as (irenadier. Loosely hang her raven tresses Through which the soft breezes play ; On her cheek the warm sun presses Lingering kisses— there they stay. And her dark eye sometimes flashing, Sometimes with a slumberous fire; Sometimes dreamy, sometimes laughing ; Filled with mirth, or wrathful ire. .i.:. VK TOR. Low broad brow of snowy whiteness Speaking a (juick woman's mind ; Ncck of bird like j^race and litheness lips, where roses love to find In their matchless red, a rival ; On her head a hat of straw ; In her hand the fishing tackle, With which she is wont ta draw Krom their river-home, the fishes, As they dart in search of food. Here and there among the rushes Waving o'er their sandy bed. .V Now forgotten is her fishing, As, with pensive gaze, she views A sail boat, falling and rising, While it swiftly plunges through The long swells that, landward rolling. Break against the unyielding rock ; Or, upon the smooth beach sloping. Ebb and flow with gentle shock. Nearer still like skimming swallow Comes the craft, its wmgs outspread ; While, along its wake, doth follow Of white foam, a curling thread. In the stern a youth is sitting. Viewing dreamily the shore. As each landmark fast is flitting. His scarce conscious gaze, before. 3* VICTOR. All hit soul wakes to the music In this glorious morn of Spring : Nature's chords so full and rythmic, Without e'er a jarring string, Sp' iks to chords within his own breast, Till a rapturous flood of song Seems to fill him, like a tempest With it carries him along. And his voice rich, clear, vibrating With a deep impassioned vein, Breaks forth in a song of praising For God's wondrous love to men. And the maiden startled, listens —Ne'er such singing heard — Her gaze on the singer fastens Breathlessly, as thoutjh she feared. If she stirred, might cease the singing. That to her was strangely sweet. Far-off memories to her bringing, Shadowy, faint and incomplete, Of a mother's voice — long since hushed, As she rocked her babe to sleep. While outside the winds and waves rushed On their revels mad, to keep. First her father kind was taken ; Soon her mother followed him : To her grandsire's home the orphan, One day, as an inmate came. VICTOR. Then she grew up sad and lonely ; None for play- mates very near, But dear 'ack sedate old ("oilie ; When with him she knew no fear. And they'd wander o'er the pebbles Washed U[) by the surging waves ; Or, to test some old time faljles, Would explore some dark danip caves Hut the goblins ne'er had caught them. And, in trustful innocence, She and Jack had come to doubt them — Thought they were a mere pretense. Hut another friend had found her : An old man of seventy years. Who alone had lived a bachelor ; And, as this life's end he nears, Looks back o'er the time of manhood Strong, to that of earlier days, 'I o the time of happy childhood. Of few sorrows, jojous plays ; And his heart warmed toward this sweet child. Who seemed shorn of Love's kind cue ; Many leisure hours had they whiled Away in study— she so fair ; He with bent form, locks of silver, Bowed together o'er one book ; Or she'd listen as he told her Fairy tales, in their snug nook, 'Neath some elm-tree's waving branches, ii i*^. 34 ^'\'^' VICTOR. ^" ' f°^^ g'-een, grassy knoll ^U'tea to such airy fancies • ^ear to thefr feet the wavel'ets rolled ^husshegre.v;aloveforknow,edg.^_ Not that merely found in books ^ •th her happy childish day-dre.ms i- great love for .isdon^'istoT' O hat knowledge, deep, inspiring, ^f'he grand and glorious t-uths Nature teaches those inquiring-1 I-essons, that in her infused ^H>Tat,ons, high and noble (^;;- the great lasting r.ood; Hh no thought for the air-bubble ^'easureg,ves, nor Sin's falsehood. Nearer comes the boat still nearer H afted onward by the bree.e • ' i;ioat,ng buoyant as a feather ' On the rolling billowy seas. So" nd^^°"^'^'''^^^f^-^^o^ triumph Sounds aga.n o'er rock and shore, In a circle, ever widened, is repeated o'er and o'er On the phonograph of Nature^ ii*V./. ^..^^f^a^i *» VICTOR. Ah ! how careful we sh ild be Of the h'ttle words . ., utter Their influence, wh. .:-n see ? And the maiden stii: ■^ ^^.^ uUn^, With her rapt and earnest gaze ' Fixed upon the boat new passing ; While the sun's bright golden rays' I^ight it with a gladsome brightness, And the singer lifts his eyes ; Meets hers with a quick dfrectness ; Swift her cheek the crimson dyes. And her look thrills through and through him —Steadily moves the boat along- Yet the voice of social custom Says that speech would now be wrong. Thus they meet, and part at meeting, With a merely passing glance, Till the web of life completing Its fine threads, with no vague chance, Brings these souls once more together^ Till the bonds of burning love Bind them so that naught can sever— Journeying on to realms above. THK RKCTOR. Time has rolled on at the rectory Peacefully, with naught to break The smooth flow of Love's sweet story, Which the bousehgld's joys here make ' 35 36 1 VKTOR. Older grown, since last we saw him, Is the rector— lines of thought Mark his noble brow -a deep calm, As if Peace within, had wrought On his features, its sweet impress, I-ike some sun-clad mountain-peak, ^Vhile below it roars the tempest- To help others he doth seek. Tis an eve in hot mid-summer. When again, this place we view ; ' I'ls the hour a poet-dreamer Fancy's drealnland, passes thronj^h ; When the day's hard toil is ended ; ' Hushed the rattle, and the din ; When the robins' notes are blended, As they call for showers of rain, With the small boy's merry shouting. Or the milk-uMid's happy song. Or the shepherd dog's loud baying. As he hastes the herd along. Here beneath the maple shade trees, To the rustic bench of yore. Gratefully the evening's ccol breeze Comes, as the hot day is o'er ; Where now seated, is the rector Breathing in the joys of home ; By his side reclines young Victor, Who has now quite manly grown. He, a sketch has just been giving ••T'aiS!?.»BBSit-c7-;v::^HF:-7 VICTOR. Of his first vacation tour, When his gay companions leaving Camped upon Wolfe Island's shore, In his skiff had sailed serenely Down St. Lawrence's broad stream. Drinking in the beauties keenly That, upon all sides, were seen. And he tells him of the fair maid Standing on the island's pier, How her every feature portrayed On his mind, would oft appear To his fancy, as no other Face had haunted him before. Longings that he could not smother. That, of her he might see more. Would he see her ? Would he know her ? Would she be wh- > has dreamed? Would the force t- -w him to her, Till his thoughts ar.u longings seemed To be pregnant with her presence, Draw her back to him again ? Quietly the rector listens Till he ceases, then he asks : — " Have I ever raised the curtains That have veiled my own sad j ast ?" " No ? Then now the tale I'll tell you Of a saddened mis-spent youth. When my will I followed on through 37 '\:mr~ ■k^^^J^^fS'/x^^i^^gr^r.J^'S'^IS^m^mm^ 1 3^ Victor. Darkest hours ; while still the Truth Shone above me, yet so Winded, And so wayward, on I went : Though of the right way oft reminded. On my own course I was bent. I had planned a life of high fame ; I would strive, till on its heights I would li'=t to men's loud acclaim. Feel their praises were my rights. Thus I strove ; high, higher mounted ; For, unselfish, young and gay, Fr'ends I miade almost uncounted. Who with flowers strewed my way. For the Ministry I studied — Not yet had I learned to prize Christ's love to me, weak and sullied. With Sin's marks — *.he sacrifice That He made seemed dim and shadowy. Part of a far-distant Past, That affected us remotely. And (rom w.-'ich our creeds were cast. But one day thij calm was broken ; I awakened wi'h a start, Finding, by love's mystic token. That another played a part In my life, before unfettered. Save by Ambition's powerful chain, With which I had long been tethered On Fame's high illusive plain. VKIoK. Madly loved I my fair day-dream ; At her shrine I constant bowed : Waited hours to catch but one gleam l-'rom her eyes, that seemed endowed With the deepest blue of Jfeaven, With the lambent fires of Hell : Of the ange! ; of the woman Within whom the foul fiends dwell. Sonietimes she would seem to love me Let me kiss her finger-tips ; Bend her burning glance upon me ; Dreamily her rosy lips, Half-way smiling, seemed to whisper All the ecstacy of love ; All the pleading; all the rapture - Me around, its spell so wove That Fame was almost forgotten ; I, myself, my future— all At her feet I cast, as token That her spell held me in thrall. M) One day came the sharp awakening. When I found another there. From whose lips her own were taking Kisses — I'd not thought to dare. Noiselessly I stole out from them, To the busy surging street ; How the bright sun seemed to darken, And all Nature seemed to beat 40 VICTOR. Time to my despairing heart-throbs, As I wandered on and on, 'Whelmed by gr.ef that stabs and then robs Life of all that beckons on— Hcpe and Joy and Faith in one's kind. Thus I groped for weeks and months, But no outlet did I then find P>om Despair's dark labyrinths. Fame had now lost all her bright charms ; Odious the sight of books ; Home I went—back to the old farm. Where my wan and haggard looks Startled all ; but discontented, Soon I set out for the West ; Joined a wagon-tram and started F'or the gold-fields with the rest. There the wild life seemed to move me, With its freedom, changing scenes ; O'er my past I looked more calmly To my fond and boyish dreams. On the prairie's billowy bosom ; Under Heaven's vast dome of blue ; Where were hung its bright lamps golden. That their glimmering lights sent through Space we know not, to our dark sphere ; Where the race of fallen man Lives in hope and faith, or dark fear, Through Time's course— but one short span From all sides the flowers' perfume VICTOR. 4' Floated to me on the breeze ; While the dayhght showed their rich bloom, That the fondest eye could please. And the stillness vast and solemn Broken only by the bark Of the wolf, that prowled at random Round the camp-fire's beacon mark. Thus I wandered o'er the earth's face, Ever restless ; for inside, Pent-up fires, a seething furnace Of desires unsatisfied. Till at last my frame, exhausted By the mind's unjust demands, Was laid low upon a sick bed. Far from home, in foreign lands. Twas 'mid Mexico's rich beauties I had ridden one hot day. Thinking of neglected duties, From which I had fled away ; And remorse came, sharp and poignant, (How empty my life had been.) I resolved, howe'er repugnant, To return to them again. Suddenly a faintness seized me ; Down beside my steed I reeled. Where some passing strangers found me. My sad plight at once appealed To their sympathies, and gently I was borne to their own home, 4* Victor. Where they tended me most kindly — Me, a wanderer unknown '1 'nere a new hfe opened to me ; 'I'here of (Jod's great love I learned ; Learned that it was even for me Christ had died. What I had spurned Now became my greatest pleasure ; Duty, highest would be now ; That His great gift now I'd treasure Was my earnest solemn vow. So. when strong enough, I started For my far Canadian home, Weak in body, but strong-hearted. There I came no more to roam. Thus with faith in self diminished ; Knowmg more of erring man ; Once more my past work, unfinished, With new purpose, I began. Thus our trials and our losses Are, for us, the pruning knife : Well for us that 'neat! he roses Lie the thorns of this .suort life. We from past failures ascending. Leaning more upon God's aid, May be ever higher tending, Though by Satan oft waylaid." Like an echo of sad music Dies the rector's voice away VICTOR. On the evening breeze, prolific With the scent of new mown hay. Silent long they both sit musing, Till the dav dies in the West ; And the night, gently descending, Comes — to Toil a v elconie guest. RETROSPECT. Far across the distant ocean, Fancy's flight will take us now, On its wings of flash-light motion, O'er Atlantic's ruffled brow ; And on Britain's shores alight us ; Near the northern rugged coast ; Where are hills and lakes of beauty. Of which she can proudly boast. 'Mid these scenes of beauties varied Stands a castle, old and grim ; And our thoughts are backward carried To those ages, vague tid dim, Of the knight and Feudal baron ; Of the deeds of chivalry ; Of the bishop and the bondman ; Of most knightly rivalry. Autumn's winds, from Westward blowing, Stir the many colored leaves, That the dark bare earth are strewing, As they fall from off the trees. 43 S^BP^i^^T^ ^s^^mmmm ^?v^^^W f 44 VICTOR. And the mellow sunlight streaming 'hrough a haze of golden sheen I'hat for earth, with gladness teeming, I'orms a gentle gau/y screen. Now the Night, enthroned, sits brooding t>er the quiet sleeping world; I-rom the distance comes the booming Ofthe billows, as they're hurled 'Oamst the shore, here stern and rock-bound. Hhiie around all else IS still, -ave the baying ofthe staghound Borne across yon neighboring hill Overhead the stars are twinkling. Making a dim gho-'v light ; In the castle all ;.rf i,eping 'Neath the sable folds of Night. But way out across the water Kides at ease a stately ship. In the quiet of the harbor ; While we hear the rythmic dip As of oars, and soon approaching Is a row-boat by six manned ; In the stern another sitting ^Vho, perchance. Las the command Now they reach the shore, where upward Quick ascends a rocky stair ; Soon two forms are coming seaward- He so stately ; she so fair. Now within the boat they're seated M. ^ ^ -^.JM VKTOR. And across the bay they glide, Till into the ship they'ie hftcd One by one, up o'er the side. Weigh the anchors ! Loose the tight ropes I daily forth the white wings spread I Let our hearts beat (|uick with high hopes I Backward leave the past as dead. Onward to the land of freedom — T« fair (anada's kind shore ! Behind a cruel father's thraldom ; Before a husband's fondest care. And, as lightly ploughs the good ship 'i'hrough the surging billows high, Dawns a faint smile on her fair lip, Though she heaves a gentle sigh 45 i And anon, through storm and sunshine, "" " brave bark, its voyage o'er, .>^_a before it the dark outline Of the bold Canadian shore. Soon she glides through placid waters — Sweet the calm after the strife Of the heaving ocean waters — Calm and tempest come in life. And the freight of restless mortals Pour forth from its floating walls, Entering, through golden portals, Canada's -extensive halls. Full of doubts of what awaits them, \. J 4^ VICTOR. Yet wiih eagerness to learn ; Most, with bright anticipations ; Korercr from their past they turn. While behind, the stricken father Searches day by day in vain Kor the lost and wayward daughter. Not a trace of her can r;ain. One by one the years roll onward, And Forgetfulness now claims Her, who sailed that night to westward Save from her father, whose high aims, By her flight, were crushed and broken ; Thus we turn the sad page down, Now to seek some sign or token Of the daughter who has gone. i.ove's younc. drkam. Oloriously the Winter's morning Bursts fiom out the Orient, On its wings of cloudlets golden ; While across the sky are sent Flashes from its gleaming pinions, Lighting up the heaven's blue : Chasing forth night's shadowy minions Fast, a-rial mansions, through. Soon the Sun rides forth resplendent ; Chariot wheels of burnished gold ;• While the morning Star, attendant, w^y^'^MvrmJ.j^. VICTOR. Rapidly is j;ro\ving old. And all Nature, sympathetic With the joyous scene above, Smiles hack, just a shade pathetic, Through fro/en tears, hut yet with love. Still the river now lies, sleeping 'Neaih its sheet of downy white ; While th" o'erhanging trees are wee[)ing At the bleak and wintry sight. Here and there are large rents shinmg In the sheet of glistening snow, Where the ice looks forth, inviting Skating parties there to go. 'I'hrcadlike, woven in a network, Stretch the winding river-roads. Here and there with slow pare, snail-like Move the teams before their loads. Soon more ardent grow the sunbeams. As they kiss the pale cold brow Of St. Lawrence, lost in sweet dreams Of the time when frost and snow- Have been driven farther northward IJy the melting voice of Spring ; Thus to let the flowers dart upward. And the birds, their sweet lays, sing. 47 Anon as fast the day grows older, Forth the busy mortals stream ; To the interested beholder 48 VICTOR. Make a changeful moving scene. Here and there an ice-boat skimming Swiftly o'er its shining floor ; With its white wmgs far extending, On it goes with rush and roar. Here again a skating party, eliding gracefully about, Fill the air with laughter merry. Or with joyous husty shout. O'er this scene, one Winter's morning, A tall youth is gazing forth ; Merrily his eye^are sparkling. As with sympathetic mirth. This is Victor, who has taken. For a friend, the village school ; There to teach tiP next vacation, And the busy empire rule, In the little town of Rockport Nestling at the steep hill's foot. Where in Summer is a safe port For the steaming river-boat. Swift have sped the months of Winter, Filled with many a fleeting joy ; Or, where sorrow we encounter — Let not Pain the good destroy. Faithful to his trust has Victor Labored with his noisy charge ; Some mayhap have sought to enter ' im VICTOR. Learning's fields, many and large. For he feels the seed he scatters. In these young and growing lives, Will take root and spread to others — O*"* it seems the ill best thrives. Many times his thoughts, with longing, Dwell upon the Island near. And the fair maid of the morning Standing out upon the pier ; Till the lengthening days grow warmer, And one eve his skates he dons ; Sallies forth upon the river ; While the past he muses on. Scarcely do, in graceful curvings, His steel shoes the hard ice spurn, Ere a cry of anguish speaking ; Quick he hastes the cause to learn. Once again, with piercing shrillness. Rings the cry upon the air. On he hastes with gathering swiftness ; In a moment comes to where Is a ring of open water, Just a little from the shore. Of great peril to the skater. As he glides the smooth ice o'er. Just as Victor nears, from under, First an arm shoots into sight, Followed by a head and shoulders ; 49 5* VICTOR. Face so drawn and ghastly white. I'ace so u ckimminc swallow Quick as swoops the skimm "6 (Naught of danger does he th.nk, Still the water is and shallow) Kneels he down upon the brink And he grasps the fair arn. sinking For the last time 'neath the wave , A?1 his manly strength forth putting, Drags her from a watery grave. Lightly as a child he lifts her m his strong and sinewy arn->s; Swiftly speeds to warmth and shelter , Gradually her life returns^ And he sees once more the fair face That has haunted all his ^rearns None could ever take the same place. If she be but what she seems^ And the story now they tell her Who it was her young life saved. Sends she for her benefactor- A way to friendship thus is paved, He to her is knight and hero ; (Of that act he will not speak) ^And he leads her young mm eager, The higker knowledge now to seek. Ind the days speed by on swift wmgs, While thev sip the nectar sweet KrolLovU amphora, that thus or,n8> Life to them, pure and complete. Victor. «;t Springtime is again disputing Winter's sway o'er Nature bright; Her soft beams of day are melting Winter's stern bands of the night ; Till the fetters cold are broken, And the grass springs fresh and green, And the violet comes as token Of her victoiy, 1 ween. Once again we see the fair Isle, (Grenadier its martial name) Where Spring, beaming her first warm smile, Lights it with her golden flame. Here, where winds the beaten pathway, 'Neath the elm trees' towering shade, Wliile beside, the wavelets gaily To the land their homage paid. Are two forms —a )Outh and maiden- Strolling slowly arm in arm, The Sun in setting throws its golden Arrows o'er them, bright and warm. " Dearest Mabel," he is saying, " Yours it was whom these long years My spirit, with gentle sighing, Sought through many hopes and fears. Oft, when sitting in the gloaming, I have had my fond day-dreams ; Far and wide my fancy roaming Sought for happy golden gleams Of a future, when with transports 'M^k x: 5« VICTOR. I could clasp one to my ■ reast ; When, as one, would beat our fond hearts ; In each other's love we'd rest. How our minds, freely together, Might, through mazy realms, soar. All untrammelled by earth's fetters Gross, to glean from Wisdom's lore. Both would love all forms of beauty ; Breathe it in with 'bated breath ; Seeking always for the lofty Through the Earth's clogs' painful death. Striving always to enoble All with whom we ever met ; Cheering those with care and trouble ; Hope to those whose star had set." Radiant grows her face so lovely ; Bright as stars her dark eyes shine ; Forth, through which, her spirit plainly T.ooks from its narrow confines ; For she sympathizes fully ; With his is her spirit knit, And as one— they love most truly— Love's not Passion's flame is lit. Nature, as if sympathetic, Changing oft in varying mood. Now is joyous ; now pathetic ; Now all sunshine ; now doth brood. Low behind the Western tree-tops VICTOR. Drops the brilliant orb of day ; While the countless tiny gay drops Dance in li^ht and merry play. And the evening breezes whisper To the river, hills, and trees, Many themes both sad and tender ; Themes of gladness and of ease. Till Night, with her shadowy mantle, Silently o'ei all descends ; Dropping down so still and gentle, The long day's joys or sorrows, ends. THE TRIAL. Once again the Sunset's silence Broods o'er lake or woodland fair ; Seeming by its restful presence To repel all fretful care. Hushed is Nature's voice, whose matin Swelled so sweetly cross the lea ; Save the robin's notes of even All is now tranquility. Once again has Victor wandered To the grave be-iide the wood. Where so oft he'd sat and pondered In his careless gay boyhood. Low he lies, while just above him, Waves the maple's spreading green, That the sun's last rays illumint? With a deep and golden sheen. 53 54 VICTOR. His fair face, now drawn and hsggard, Tells of struggles fierce within ; As he hath of late encountered Fierce foes hitherto unknown. But this morn the secret learned he, Of his mother's early years, With its sad pathetic story Calling forth hot bitter tears. How h6r father's cruel treatment Caused her, from her home, to steal ; Marry, in a hasty moment. One for either woe or weal. How, when o'er the vast blue ocean To fair Canada they came, For a time bliss was their portion, 'x\eath the spell of Love's first dream. But a guest now sought their chamber At the rosy blush of morn. And their hearts grew e'en yet fonder. When the baby boy was born Like a storm that sweeps at mid-oay O'er the soft warm Summer sky, Making all so dark and gloomy, Till its tempest passes by ; So, upon these guests of dreamland, Bursts the storm of want and care ; Death soon claimed the sire and husband From his son and bride so fair. VICIOK. Then she went to find his brother, Who was somewhere in this land ; For there now was not another Who would give a friendly hand ; Till at length numb worn and weary, Hope's last spark from her had fled ; On a roadside, lone and dreary, She had found a downy bed Of soft snowflakes — there she rested Till her spirit took its flight ; Soon her prison-house was lifted, By a traveller of the night, On his charger, borne with swift speed To a cabin small, near by ; (ione she was now past the least need, 'J'heir kind healing arts, to try. So a grave they dug at even. For the fair and youthful form ; And the deep wood sang the au^hem — Sings it still in calm and storm. " Mother ! Mother ! dost thou hear me ? Dost thou see my troubled heart ? Dost thou know the conflict in me ? Heavenly Father strength impart I Guide me into Truth and Duty ! May not holding a proud name ; May not Honor, Wealth or Beauty E'er be strong enough tq claim 55 Viim^ . '-^ 56 VICTOR. One fond wish from my life's service- Worldly honors pale and fade ; All the pomp of Earth is worthless ; May my hopes on Christ be staid !" Thus he pray and thus he wrestles, Torn by many a doubt and fear, As the bosom-serpent nestles Ever to his heart more near. Heir is he through his lost mother To a title ancient, proud ; And Ambition seeks to smother The voice of Conscience speaking loud. " May he not great good accomplish As a peer of England fair ? Others can his pas/ work finish Better than if he were there. " Take the good that Fortune offers ! Use it for most noble ends ! " This the Tempter slyly whispers. As he for his soul contends And the sun, in smiling splendor. Sinks behind the western hills, Lighting up with beauty tender (That the poet's spirit thrills) Cloudlets, floating, ah. so gently O'er the sky's aerial blue. The crimson streaks that mark its pathway, Faint and ever fainter grow. Vhm..3^ ^■'^kd.K.. -,.vl '.aKieK ■ •• ' -..*e2'. i / ■ VICTOR. And he wrestles, struggling, panting, Till the bright stars, one by one, Shine forth r.ilently with evening In the vast ethereal dome. Then he rises, wan and haggard. Yet upon his face a calm ; Through the depths his soul has struggled ; For the (Jood he leaves the Sham, And his eyes, where still are traces Of the conflict lately passed. Shine forth with a steady radiance ; Peace his soul hath found at last And he goes forth braver, stronger To do battle with Life's cares ; For Earth's honors he no longer Values, when he them compares With those won by toil and suffering, That the character upbuilds ; Always patient, never murmuring. His highest destiny fulfills. AT LAST. 57 Twilight's shades once more rest over Canada's fair verdant lands, Through which winds the gleaming river ; Where the towering mountain stands Brooding o'er the sleeping valley, While upon its sloping sides 58 VICTOR. Rests the forest, waving gently ; Where the lakes, whose heaving tides Lave for miles shores of rare grandeur; Where the deer and bear roam wild ; Where are mines of gold and silver ; Wealth that centuries compiled. Here among the western forests, Where the Indian roams at will In the chase, while the vast stillness Wakes he with his war-whoop shrill, Stands a station of the Missions, Of the (lospel to the race. Servants to their superstitions. Who yet may know God's saving grace. 'Tis at sunset-all the woodlands. All the spreading vale uelow. All the foaming mountain-torrents, Are lit by the sun's br.ght glow. And all Nature, hushed and s.lent, As if with a purpose one ; The lake's eye, without a movement, Gazes at the setting .un. And the c'".rch-bell rings its summons, 'Come to worship all who will!' Soon, upon the village commons, An eager throng their places fill. One in front with gaze all tender ; Features tranquil ; thoughtful brow ; Ml lOK. Face that one would long remember ; Restful power its lines doth show. And the dark blue eje is burning With a dc[)th of loving force, As if with a fervent yearning To turn the wayward from his course. And the sun, with clinging fondness, I'lays among his curls of gold ; As upon the gentle stillness Sweetly forth his full tones roll. This is N'ictor, while beside him Sits his fond and noble wife, One in purpose always, with him ; Mors is mingled with his life. This is Mable, now a woman, While two babes press to her side — One a l)oy with ringlets golden ; With tresses dark the little maid. Thus they live in sweet seclusion P'rom the world's mad race for fame ; Power, or all that is delusion. To their lives has naught become Here they dwell with Nature's wonders As their book to e'er explore ; Nature's beauties their inspirers ; Higher still they sfrek to soar. While the redmen, Nature's children, Wild and wayward, form a bond .S«> jrii.ari.v/' ... «i7: •>.'••. ^iiv^ 6o '!« r!M(. ')rethren, jeyond. ' ^ ^' n In their lives, t The great mouiu Can we say that '.- is l-x i'lg? Wealth and power nn;! ' ^w Is he mad, at tin ^ - (■ What man ofien .i o^l .' ' In the Future wai'. the i ' i , Yet the Past our ^uide may l