IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I! IIM |2£ 1.8 1 1.25 1.4 !.6 1- 6" — ► ^ <^ /} >> ^c> c^^ V ■V o / /A Photographic Sciences Corporation m 4 V ^cocQO<>aog<>9cc€#oe3gcc»aoceooo3aoeacoo =^ BY- ...3^mc$ €mc$f e^ldwdl... >c>99ea^j99oett'9oor9(y^d9d9€9999&9ct>fN»'-;»<>d9>3^jec>oee'C9C3Qd.j®»ac«-oe'<>^^ OTTAWA PRINTING CO. * i' THE CASTLE ON THE HILL BY JAMES ERNEST CALDWELL I « OTTAWA: C. H. THORBURN. 1899. Pa\ro CANAOiAMA D5C 19 1950 ^ 4 In YcL Br^ad At i he Castle on the Hill. a City by a River a mighfy Castle stands, ne'er might see its equal though you travell'd many lands ; and fair the vale it guardeth which leadeth to the west, its feet there sweep the waters from the far-off mountains* crest. ir by year there gather to it the mighty men of war, tongues are their dread weapons and O how dread they are! skirmish, feint, or sortie, or subtle ambuscade, J peal in heavy thunder or in crackling fusilade. Ye W|iose In Th Th Thlt Bu Islh y have many points of conflict which will not let them rest, have brought to earth the wearers of many a haughty crest ; what heats the fearful combat to its most tremendous pitch e question — Which of us it is has made the country rich ? Year by year the farmer tramps it, for a thousand miles ormore, In the wake of plough and harrow, in hay mow or threshing floor; He milks the cows at early dawn to fill the factory can, And the agricultural exports show he's a very busy man. In the woods, tnrough fall and winter, the shanty crews are spread, The mighty pine before their strokes comes crashing to its bed; All summer long the singing saws make music through the deals, And a myriad hands are busy kept among the factory wheels. The miner deeper drives his shaft beneath the mountain's side, The sailor takes his steady course across the waters wide ; The railway magnate lays his plans to catch the tide of freight, And day and night in storm and shine his car is at the gate. The merchant, man of many tasks, is ever on the move ; The lawyer and his client law's uncertainties still prove ; By night and day the editor with indigestion groans, As he strives to catch the meaning of the world's discordant tones. These, and a thousand more, keep on in iheir appointed way, And the world's great Overseer g-ives to every man his pay ; From the highest to the lowest there's a perfect time- ! kept, Every moment one has loitered or in s:oth has overslept. But the yearly strife still wages in the Castle or; the Hill, Yes, the wordy strife still widens, as such strivings ever will ; And still what heats the conflict to its mo t tremendous pitch Is the question — Which of us has made our darling country rich? ^^ii^ ^ejr-»c. >jyxo,i^-m. ■>rT<3t.i>r'ni,,jc-»it. .><"iK.y ■*<><- -<>-oo.<»<^ ^-OO* c^^ John 5ull cind Sons . $ <•<><><> ►-OOO-O-* ♦^'O-^ ->-♦ ; . .. ? ^*in.jiK> i'^^jei »>».jar. ».jif^'i'>i.*ri tTi«.*r«7€ Have you seen the quaint old sign That hangs in London town, Where the golden web of Commerce Lets its closest meshes down ? Though it's but a trifle rusty It has hung a thousand years, And in faded gilt upon it A single name appears. f 9009 JOHN BULL. ^dOOO f He's a kindly old man, is John ; With an eye of honest blue, The whole world knows right well That he knows a thing or two ; His head is full of Traffic But his heart remembers Love ; His purse is full of gold, — his hand Fills a gigantic glove. What a strapping lot of boys He's reared the long years through ! The eldest's in America (They had just a word or two) Another's out in India And dealing on the square ; And as for him of Africa His motto is '* Get there." Another's in Austr.ilia, With flocks aiul herds and ^old : And one is out in Cnnada — A chap that c.n't be sold. All doing well— now don't you think When that old sig'n comes down, That's hunj,"^ for a long thousand years In good old London town, That in its place should glisten A plate of deathless brass, Graved deep with a new legend Till another age shall pass. Yea, doubtless, it will bear these words Right gallantly on view, To show that as the world still grows The old firm's growing too. OOOO?? JOHN BULL & SONS. 8 x:»900 T •sr^^is^ 3/^o . . . Quinlati's Race . . . o^®" ■ w

* 16 ♦^t* Proudly each teamster guides with care his team, And many a time in days to come will tell What mighty loads he drew and scorned to scheme, On the Coulonge with honest Dick and Nell. High o'er the lake the shores abruptly stand — Thither the teams have hauled through wintry days, Thousands of logs, each with its owner's brand, Rolling them headlong down their thundering ways. Hence, when the sun shall warm the lakelet's breast, On their long voyage shall they gaily start, Down gushing creeks all widening from the west. And foaming rapids to the far off mart. High on the log-dump works the stalwart Pierre, From Buckingham in early fall he came ; Cyrille Larocque, his chum of oathful cheer. Has learned right well to ply the rolling game. Nimbly the logs are from the sledges tossed ; Down the steep incline towards the lake they bound; O'er the sheer edge they suddenly are lost, Their course marked well by deeply booming sound. 17 Here worked Cyrille aad Pierre, day after day — Each did his best, and each one's best was more Than you or I would do for their day's pay, Or could do were it multiplied a score. To-day, says Pierre, in merry, mocking style, " How would you like, Cyrille, to dine in hell ? After a winter spent on this bleak pile, A little heat would suit a fellow well !" Scarce had the words escaped his laughing lips, When the vast pile began to forward heave ; Back each man bounds, but Pierre — poor Pierre ! he slips- The grinding logs their huge bulk o'er him weave ! Down, down they swept a grinding avalanche. Watched from the bank by teamsters filled with fe r; Well might their cheeks with terror quickly blanch, To see the fate of lately laughing Pierre ! Silence at last, a silence deep as death ; Then to their task the men all grimly bent, From morning till the evening darkeneth, They search for that poor form so deeply pent. I i8 Then, at the close of that ill-fated clay, The last log raised that his poor throat compressed ; Each man though dying would make oath and say — A cry most dread rushed from that stifled breast. A cry that smote each toiler to the bone ; That never might by them forgotten be ; Most weird^.and awful, anguish burdened tone, Sweeping the silent shores so ghostly ! So to the lake a sombre name is bound, Long as its face shall mirror back the sky ; In weird remembrance of that fearful sound, They call it yet Lake of the Dead Man's Cry. 19 i»»»»»»»»»=^») ^\g ... Wasted ?\t^ ... Miss Iridiscent Gladys Smythe, First Vice ot the Y. C. M. A.'s, And Mister Fernandino Frith, Convener of the Senior Jays, One morning' somewhere in mid-May, Both wheeled along the Queen's highway. The day was fine as May-days are When spring comes fairly in on time ; The road stretched smooth and likewise far- There were no tiresome hills to climb. They nimbly trod their spinning wheels, But no yarn floated at their heels. 20 Miss IridisceiU Gladys wheel'd Along the footpath, near the fence ; The breeze that came from far afield Seemed very grateful to the sense ; ••I'ern" pedalled gravely on behind, His tall form forwardly in:lined. The fields, dry, warm and sun be-kissed. Like hot-beds waited for the seed ; From the fresh plough land curled a miot. Spirit of plenty, summer freed. And from the ploughman's lusty jaw Came the loud call " Haw ! Haw ! boys, Haw !" Now from the roadside spreads a field For turnips being fertilized ; Huge piles of compost, stables yield. By farmers very highly prized, With noisesome vapors filled the air ; Men, horses, carts were also there. 21 *■■■ "Whew," said Miss Iridiscent, ("Fern " With nose averted likewise sniffed) "I wish those horrid rrien would learn From such vile tasks their eyes to lift;" She upward glanced with soulful eye Lest she the "horrid" men might spy. Just then a stone, right in the track, Stuck up its spiteful, gnarled head ; — Miss Iridiscent's wheel, alack ! Against the fence, misguided sped — The fence was wire, be-barbed so sadly, Rider and wheel were punctured badly. " Fern," with averted nose and eyes Joined headlong in his leader's woe ; And lamentable vere his cries ; Miss Iridiscent groaned below ; In fact a worse catastrophe In cycling annals scarce could be ! 33 yuick from their task now run the men, With ^rave and sympathizing looks ; With hurried hands they labor then, To disengage the cruel hooks, Which jag the tender skm and tear it, So that it's very heard to bear it. Soon freed "Fern" gains his teet the first, Miss Iridiscent scarce can moan ; With fit and chosen words he curst The poor misguided culprit stone ; — Miss Iridiscent, truer mettle, Bade him his ruffled temper settle. With punctured tires and spokes awry, Their wheels are past all present cure ; Their passage back they now must buy — To walk they never could endure — Back to the city soon they roll For coachman honest Farmer Cole. 23 Said Mister Ftrnandino Frith, '• When next I face the Senior Jays Our meeting shall be favored with A paper on Our Country Ways ; — Impressions of two bicyclists, Among the Agriculturists." Said Mister Cole, *' I've often thought. Where is the fun you people find In racing back and torth for naught ; I sometimes think you've lost your mind ; But custom often makes things ple.isant, We can't appreciate at present." , Miss Iridiscent answered "Sir, An hour ago I pitied you, Don't think, I pray, I mean a slur — It merely shows how much I knew I Since this experience I've tasted I'm sure there's lots of pity wasted." 24 Cariadidti H\^inn « • If 'i Hail to thee Canada ! Land of our father's toil, High would we raise thy fame — spotlessly pure 1 Justice and Liberty sown in thy virgin soil, 'Neath thy sun's ardent flame, ripen secure Harvests whose bounty the world shall assure ! Strength to thee Canada ! Tasks wide and limitless Loom from thy mountain sides — gleam on thy plains; Faith feed thy heart alway — may thy lips ever bless When the day's glory hides — fall the fierce rains. Falter not — fear not — God's truth still remains ! Peace to thee Canada — founded on Righteousness ! Pruning hooks prize thou more — swords value not. Wage war on Poverty— make all Injustice less ; Beauty, from shore to shore, spread without spot ; Firm till the end of days, stand in thy lot. 2.S P . . The Veteran . . Come with me— meet a VETERAN, Of many a valiant fight ; Though now he sits in feebleness, With dim and failing sight ; And ever in his ear, grown dull, To speak is small delight. Few scars he bears, nor powder marks ; No pension draweth he ; No medal hangs upon his breast For all the world to see, But a glorious memory fills him yet Of days that far off be. I* Now dwells he ni^h to Rideau's shore, Where you in spring may hear The murmur of the tumbling waves, On cloudy days and drear, And the farmer takes it as a sign That rain is surely near. Broad fields spread fairly round his home Where ample herds are seen ; And springs in lusty vigor forth The clover's early green, And later in long, leafy lines The maize of graceful mien. No hovel rude of logs and bark — Stone walls and iron roof, Hot water coils and well-hedged lawn, Untrod by roving hoof ; Fish, flesh and fowl ; fine flour, fair fruit, Keep want far, far aloof. 27 Dim seem the days when Ireland's sod He pressed with boyish feet, Or warmed his fingers at the hearth Where glowed the odorous peat, And the loaded carts rolled slowly by To Cavan's market seat. Like the weird hiatus of a dream The ocean voyage slips, A shimmering maze of tossing waves, A crowd of wide sailed ships, And yawning from the river's side The forest's gloomy lips. The lonely life in the leafy woods, Where the queenly maples rose ; And monarchs of the lowland flats. The giant elm trees pose In gloomy shadow o'er the day. Soon darkening to its close. 28 Brave hearts were those from Erin's warm And genial clime to dare The furrowed face of famine, while Athwart the wintry air, The fearful wraith of frost and snow Waved threateningly " Beware ! " So was the battle joined, and man Weak — yet invincible. With axe and lever, chain and torch, Upon the forest fell ; And the forest faded from his face. As a fire unquenchable ! Through the long days and long, long years, The ceaseless fight went on ; The ring of sturdy blows awoke The wintry woods at dawn ; And the glowing log-pile lit the gloom When the summer day was gone. 29 ■10"' And through it all our VETERAN toiled With earnestness of soul ; Gave to the work the best he had, No clock-timed, eight-hour dole ; For well he knew the task was great. And half ne'er won the whole. Then yield with me the homage due To him and to his peers, The toil-bent heroes of the past. Stern warriors through long years ; Their ranks grow thin— with bended head Salute we them with tears ! ^H^ 30 Songs of tlje Pines-By James Bpnest Caldwell (TORONTO: \VM. BRIGGS.) Among- Canadian singers Mr. Caldwell takes his place with some note worthy performances. "Songs of the Pines " contain a number of well rounde and melodious lyrics, not unfrequently touched with the true poetic energj — Xnv York IndependenX. The product of a lover of inanimate nature wlio knows how to discern th " books in brooks, sermons in stones," and who is too a competent student c f human nature. — Western British American. The themes are thoroughly Canadian, with descriptions rf photographi fidelity. Has exquisite touches of pathos and beauty. — Christian Guardian Has presented to the public not only some good verse, but a deep-soule- patriotism towards Canada and all that is Canadian. — Kegina Leader, Worthy of a place in every home. — Ingersoll Chronicle. Has a gift for bringing a picture to the xn\\\<}i.— -Saturday Review. At his best in describing the magnificent scenery of the Ottawa Valley — Barrie E.vaminet. The writer has evidently a love and respect for the daily round of ordin ary life which he does not fear to voice. — Ottawa Jotitnal. "John Bull and Sons." — Song. Words, James Ernest Caldwell. Music Cecil J. A. Birkett. Ottawa : C. H. Thorburn. " John Bull ! John Bull ! All the world knows him well, For solid worth The whole round earth Has only one John Bull ! " 31