THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 FACTS AND FANCIES; 
 
 A COLLfiCTIOJf OV 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 JOHN BRAYSHAW KAYE. 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 
 GEORGE MAC DONALD & CO,
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by 
 
 GEO. MAC DONALD <fc CO. 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
 
 
 
 TO 
 
 MY MOST CONSIDERATE READER 
 
 AND 
 KINDLIEST CRITIC, 
 
 MY BELOVED WIFE, 
 
 THIS LITTLE VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE JOURNEYINGS OF FANCY, - - - II 
 
 SWEET LAKE OF GENEVA, ... 22 
 
 THE HAPLESS BIRDS, - 28 
 
 MOONLIGHT, - 34 
 
 LIVING IN THE PAST, - - - - 37 
 
 ALONE ON THE LAKE -SHORE, - 45 
 
 THE HUMAN FACE, - - 57 
 
 NOVEMBER, - - C"2 
 
 To A FAVORITE COUSIN, - - - - 64 
 
 ACROSTIC, - 69 
 
 NIGHT, - 71 
 
 WHAT is WEALTH ? - 74 
 REPLY TO**- - - - -76 
 
 THE MORNING WALK, ----- 79 
 
 BIRDS OF SPRING, - ... Si 
 
 BEAUTIFUL DEWDROPS, - - ... 83 
 
 THE SUMMER'S EVE, - - - 86 
 
 KITTY, - ... 88 
 
 WILLIAM AND WINNIE, - - - - - 90 
 
 MY DESTINY'S STAR, . . , 94 
 
 ACROSTIC, FOR A LADY FRIEND, - - - - 96 
 
 To A YOUNG LADY KNITTING A " TIDY," - 97 
 
 LOVE, - ----- 99 
 
 THE IRISH EMIGRANT'S FAREWELL, - 101 
 
 THE HERMIT'S LAMENT, ... 103 
 
 THE OLD YEAR, - 105 
 
 CHICAGO IN ASHES, ------ 107
 
 10 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE DRUMMER - BOY'S FATE, - in 
 
 IN THE DEEP, TANGLED FOREST, - - 114 
 THE IRISH EMIGRANT'S DYING FAREWELL TO HIS LOVE, 116 
 
 I LOVE THEE STILL, - 119 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S FAREWELL,- - 121 
 
 SINKING OF THE NORTHFLEET, - - 123 
 
 STORM AT SEA, - 126 
 
 THE PITILESS SNOW, - 127 
 
 JOHN BARLEYCORN, THE HIGHWAYMAN, - - 131 
 
 POP- CORN, 138 
 
 PROLOGUE, - ~ - 142 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND AND 'TUTOR, - - 145 
 
 IN MEMORY OF JOHN HEYWOOD, - - 150 
 
 THE NATION'S REBUKE, 154 
 
 GREELEY IN MEMORIAM, * - 158 
 
 CHARLES SUMNER, 163 
 
 SPRING, - - 166 
 
 SUMMER,- 170 
 
 AUTUMN, - - - - - -174 
 
 WINTER,- - - \.. 177 
 
 POEMS OF THE FAR WEST. 
 
 THE LITTLE LONE GRAVE ON THE PLAINS, - - 183 
 
 WESTWARD, - - - - .... 186 
 
 SUNRISE IN THE SIERRAS, - - - . . 189 
 
 THE MINER'S BURIAL, - - - - - 193 
 
 THE MIRAGE, - . ... . - 195 
 
 MUSING, - - - . . . . 199 
 
 A RIDE DOWN A FLUME, - - .... - 203 
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT ROSE, - . - 210 
 
 To A Moss- AGATE, . - x - - 222 
 
 THE GOLD - SEEKER'S DREAM, - ... 225 
 THE Ox -TEAMSTER OF WASHOE, - ... 234
 
 THE JOURNEYINGS OF FANCY. 
 
 O soul of Poesy ! wild Fancy's self ! . 
 
 What pen can paint a semblance of thy flight ? 
 
 Thou nameless genus, phantasy or elf ! 
 
 The lightnings scarce are swifter, nor the light, 
 
 When, glancing westward, on morn's early ray, 
 
 Pursuing darkness on the wing of night, 
 
 Or night, in turn, victorious o'er the day. 
 
 While earth, a quadrant, on her axis rolls, 
 
 And turns Sol's morning glance to midday's beam. 
 
 Thou 'It revel hours alternate at the poles, 
 
 Climb icebergs, wanton in the mellow gleam 
 
 Of fair Aurora's smiles ; to feed thy zeal 
 
 Draw nurture from the udder of the seal. 
 
 Now plunging fearless in the unknown deep. 
 Sporting with meek -eyed monsters of the wave,
 
 12 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Scanning the briny caves where silent sleep 
 
 The shipwrecked thousands in their wat'ry grave, 
 
 To view their several postures as they lie ; 
 
 To guess their feelings when the last quick breath 
 
 Was stifled by the wave ; O, their strange quality 
 
 Cannot be told. Life lingering into death. 
 
 A world of waters all around, above 
 
 Dim waters still, and then the far blue sky. 
 
 They see it all in thought ; the voice of love 
 
 They hear ; life's varied scenes all fly 
 
 In pictured pantomime before the memory. 
 
 Here lies the gallant tar, whose chief delight 
 Had ever been to plow the raging sea, 
 His cradle and his home, and now despite 
 His grave, wild, heaving, boundless, free. 
 And here the miser, pillowed in the sand, 
 As he would bribe Saint Peter at the gates, 
 Still grasps his gold within his bony hand, 
 And Michael's trump, the signal, grimly waits.
 
 THE JOURNEYIXGS OF FANCY. 13 
 
 Here still, two lovers sleep to wake no more ; 
 Strange tale it were and wild, and sad to trace ; 
 How they had wandered from their native shore, 
 And sunk together through the stifling space 
 In love's despairing, endless, last embrace. 
 
 But now away in quest of other scenes, 
 The valleys of a sunken world t' explore. 
 'Mong sunken mountains, caverns and ravines, 
 View the strange shapes that gliding upward 
 
 soar 
 
 In the blue, liquid, silent atmosphere ; 
 Or like the venomed creeping things of lands 
 Now risen from the deep (yet ling'ring near), 
 Drag their slow lengths along the cringing sands. 
 Aquatic plants, and fruitage of the sea, 
 Peculiar shrubs, with foliage quaint and rare, 
 Such things as none might dream could ever be, 
 And, Fancy, only thou couldst linger there, 
 And its strange scenes with other worlds compare.
 
 14 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Where wilt thou next ? Thou fain wouldst linger 
 
 still 
 
 And further wander through a world submerged, 
 But ha ! what's this? e'en thou dost shudder chill, 
 And inly wish thy stay had not been urged. 
 A ghastly row of grinning skeletons! 
 The slaver's cable bore them to their doom. 
 Forced from her decks by hellish myrmidons, 
 They sank in fetters to a welcome tomb. 
 O fearful specters ! chain - gang of the deep ! 
 Methiuks your latest breath like incense rose 
 In sparkling bubbles through the wat'ry steep. 
 And soared to heaven on the wing of woes 
 To cry 'gainst slavery and freedom's foes. 
 
 Behold the Nautilus, whose tiny sail 
 
 Bears his slight bark before the gentle breeze, 
 
 The winds increasing to tumultuous gale 
 
 u Furl sails ! close hatches ! sink into the seas ! " 
 
 Thus the pert mar'ner like a pilot stands,
 
 THE JOURNEYINGS OF FANCY. 15 
 
 Himself alike ship, captain, mate and crew, 
 To give alike and to obey commands ; 
 A merchantman full-rigged, complete and ne\y, 
 Skimming the surface when the weather 's fair, 
 Laden with sunshine, then his craft is seen, 
 Crammed, too, for future use, with wholesome air; 
 The cargo 's shipped ! prepare for change of soene ! 
 Down, down, away to haven submarine. 
 
 What now, O Fancy ! sink again, to dwell 
 
 In the calm stillness of aquatic time ? 
 
 Or change thy hulk for some superior shell, 
 
 The better thus to woo the fabled Nine ? 
 
 Let 's find the " Northwest Passage " if we can. 
 
 No icebergs turn thee from the arctic path ; 
 
 Frost and starvation chill corporeal man, 
 
 But thou canst careless brave their fiercest wrath. 
 
 But no, I only feel thee listless pause, 
 
 As if to say, " What ! prostitute my powers ! 
 
 Am I a leader in stern Science's cause ?
 
 16 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 No ! rather let me climb the coral towers, 
 Or woo the mermaid in her ocean bowers." 
 
 To fair Minerva's realms away in haste, 
 
 To bask once more beneath the glowing sun, 
 
 In peopled thoroughfare and desert waste 
 
 To muse in silence till the day is done. 
 
 Now groping through the murky moonless night, 
 
 Shrouded in mystery and deepest gloom, 
 
 Exploring caverns whence the streaming light 
 
 Is shut forever ; even such the tomb. 
 
 The vaulted catacombs, Avhere each grim row 
 
 Of corded relics forms a scene of dread, 
 
 In winding avenues where ceaseless flow 
 
 Strange voiceless murm'rings, whisp'rings of the 
 
 dead, 
 Along damp corridors whence all beside has fled. 
 
 Climb the bank'd clouds, that rear their giant 
 forms
 
 THE JOURNEYINGS OF FANCY. 17 
 
 111 rugged grandeur 'gainst the azure sky, 
 The frowning bastions of contending storms 
 And floating mountains of infinity, 
 With hoary summits gleaming in the sun, 
 Whose ray illumes each jutting .spur and branch 
 To the far base, fixed on the horizon, 
 The vapory wrecks of many an avalanche. 
 Chaotic shapes in wild confusion piled, 
 With here and there a fissure, whence between, 
 A patch of blue, like fair Elysium, smiled 
 A seeming welcome to the happy scene, 
 Where spirits from the blessed isles convene. 
 
 There 's action in the air ! the sun glides down 
 Behind the alpine vapors to its rest. 
 The clouds are scurring, and a deeper frown 
 Overspreads their threatening attitudes ; the west 
 Looks ominous ; while, mutt'ring from afar, 
 Thrilling like dread the fleecy battlements, 
 Speeds the deep Thunder in his rumbling car.
 
 13 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 The angry mouthings of the elements. 
 The rival winds, propel the warring clouds ; 
 Like mammoth navies on the buoyant tide 
 They grapple hostile, till their twisted shrouds 
 Are interlaced, and then the dread broadside 
 Of thunderbolts dance o'er the billows wide. 
 
 A flood of fire streams o'er the face of night, 
 And lights the awful scene with lurid glare, 
 A flash of anger that appals the sight 
 And paints behemoths struggling in the air. 
 Then all again is darkness, and a hush 
 Of labored stillness falls upon the scene ; 
 While low'ring from afar, dread incubus ! 
 A phantom cloud seems scudding to careen. 
 When hark ! behold ! O grand but fearful sight ! 
 The zigzag lightnings hurtle through the rain, 
 A thousand twisted splinters hissing spite. 
 'Tis bound Destruction rends his fiery chain, 
 And hurls it writhing through the ethery main.
 
 THE JOURNEYINGS OF FANCY. 19 
 
 Then for a moment all again is dark, 
 
 A sombre scowl 's athwart the brow of night ; 
 
 Then a deep fiery flush lights up the arc 
 
 Of heaven's inky dome ; the mystic flight 
 
 Of the assembled shades, to their far bourne 
 
 Beyond the confines of the horizon, 
 
 Is only equaled by their swift return, 
 
 As light and darkness blacken into one. 
 
 The chafing winds are hushed, the thunders roll 
 
 In slow majestic cadence, while the rain 
 
 Close follows in its wake to'ard either pole ; 
 
 The clouds expend their stores, and once again 
 
 Pale starlight glimmers on Earth's moistened plain. 
 
 Away again, on the swift wing of thought, 
 Far from the scenes of the subsiding storm ; 
 Away, away ! till earth appears as naught, 
 A very speck, too small to take a form. 
 Vastness of endless space ! O mighty sea 
 Of boundless nothingness ! no limits rise
 
 20 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 To hint the confines of Infinity. 
 
 While through the gloom each mighty planet flies 
 
 In its fixed course : like monstrous beacons bright 
 
 They cast a halo toward the viewless dome 
 
 That mantles o'er the dread eternal night, 
 
 Within whose clasp suns universal roam, 
 
 On, on, forever in their trackless home. 
 
 Behold great systems on their axes roll, 
 And mark the grand elliptics of their way ; 
 While constellations traverse round their pole 
 The children of Omnipotence at play. 
 Magician of the Universe ! Thy hand 
 Controls the motions of these circling spheres, 
 (Perfection of intelligence hath planned 
 To mark duration into seasons years), 
 With more precision than thy juggling worms 
 Toss their globules of cork, which catch the eye 
 Of him who for a moment idly turns
 
 THE JOURNEYINGS OF FANCY. 21 
 
 To toss a penny as he passes by, 
 
 But never looks for wonders in the sky. 
 
 From where Aurora spreads her ruffled bar ; 
 From ocean - cave and subterranean vault ; 
 From where Jehovah's thunder rolls afar, 
 And storm - battalions countermarch and halt, 
 From darkness which is blindness, and from light 
 Which bursts in splendor o'er the dazzled gaze, 
 From day perpetual and from endless night ; 
 From blue expanse and far chaotic haze ; 
 From place to place, thus hast thou bade me roam, 
 Till like a child, when wearied out at play, 
 I beg thee now to bear me safely home ; 
 Here from the zenith earthward let us stray, 
 Down through the mazes of the Milky Way.
 
 SWEET LAKE OF GENEVA.* 
 
 Sweet Lake of Geneva, 
 Pure, lovely and fair, 
 Moore sung of Avoca, 
 
 And Burns of " Auld Ayr ;" 
 When valleys and rivers awaken the Muse, 
 She may not neglect to accord thee thy dues. 
 
 I have know thee from childhood, I 've studied 
 
 thy ways ; 
 
 Thy fountains, thy inlets, thy headlands and bays, 
 Thy shallows and depths, are familiar to me 
 As the beads to the maid on her conned rosary. 
 
 My happiest days, O, I feel they are past ! 
 ('Tis sad that earth's happiness never can last :) 
 
 * Geneva Lake, Wisconsin. 
 
 (22)
 
 SWEET LAKE OF GENEVA. 03 
 
 They were spent on thy waters and wandering o er 
 The hills that encompass and outline thy shore. 
 
 Oft, as a young hunter, I 've wandered alone, 
 With nothing to cheer me save thee and my gun ; 
 And when weary I 've lain on the soft grassy steep, 
 While the voice of thy waters has lull'd me to 
 
 sleep. 
 
 O, such slumber as that, when the soft sighing 
 
 breeze 
 Fills the soul with calm gladness, a sweet sense 
 
 of ease 
 
 Steals along every nerve, a true vision of rest, 
 To sleep on forever were but to be blest. 
 
 ' 
 I have watched thee, dear Lake, when sore chafed 
 
 by the storm ; 
 
 When thy waters were writhing like serpents in 
 form ;
 
 24 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Thou hast seemed to me then like a cauldron of 
 
 wrath, 
 Boiling over with vengeance to aught in thy path. 
 
 I have seen thee again, lull'd to rest by the calm, 
 When the sentinel hills were on guard 'gainst 
 alarm ; 
 
 Not a breath to disturb thee, as calm tlry pure 
 
 * 
 
 breast 
 
 As though Winter had chained thee in motionless 
 rest. 
 
 At such times as these I have sat in my boat, 
 
 Like a moth on a mirror, an atom afloat ; 
 
 As silent and motionless even as thee, 
 
 I have gazed in thy depths, full of wonders to me. 
 
 Beneath me, inverted, lay heaven's blue dome, 
 With its cirrii reflected like ridges of foam ; 
 And a spirit within me hath whispered, " Let go, 
 And glide to the ethery concave below."
 
 SWEET LAKE OF GENEVA. 25 
 
 I have started at this, and looked up to behold 
 A rich glowing sunset, in crimson and gold ; 
 Sol slowly withdraws from a scene which he fills, 
 And smiles his farewell from Fontana's green hills. 
 
 Now the dim twilight shadows are gathering fast, 
 The pure spirits of those which the sunlight has 
 
 cast ; 
 
 Now they melt into darkness, or all fade away, 
 As Night, the usurper, asserts his wide sway. 
 
 O, Lake of enchantment ! I 've stood on thy shore 
 When the pale, mellow moonlight hath silvered 
 
 thee o'er, 
 
 And the fishermen's torches have shot a faint ray, 
 Like the first early stars in the wake of the day. 
 
 Far along thy still waters, some young spearsman's 
 
 call, 
 Borne along in rich cadence, is echoed by all.
 
 26 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Then the loud plaintive wail of the breeze-stirring 
 
 loon, 
 The Whip-poor-will's chant and the owl's doleful 
 
 tune. 
 
 Such impressions as these, when imbued in our 
 
 youth, 
 
 While the heart is the home of affection and truth, 
 Time dims not their luster nor weakens their sway, 
 And nothing, save death, can e'er sweep them 
 
 away. 
 
 Still fondly I love thee ; to view thee once more 
 Turns my memory back to the glad days of yore ; 
 For the long years since then, full of changes to me, 
 But confirm the sweet sameness of beauty in thee. 
 
 Yet in time not far hence, these fair green hills 
 
 of thine 
 Shall be famed as the cragg'd, castled banks of 
 
 the Rhine ;
 
 SWEET LAKE OF GENEVA. 27 
 
 And the seekers of pleasure shall traverse thee 
 
 o'er, 
 And the love song, and war song, resound 'long 
 
 thy shore. 
 
 Still again must I leave thee ! I turn to depart, 
 While the shadows of sadness fall thick o'er my 
 
 heart. 
 
 Must it ever be thus ? to the end must I roam 
 Far away from the scenes which my heart declares 
 
 home ? 
 
 If so it must be, O then still let me pray 
 
 That some last, faithful comrade bear here my 
 
 poor clay ; 
 That my dust may be mixed with the earth of thy 
 
 shore, 
 And my spirit float o'er thee till time is no more.
 
 THE HAPLESS BIRDS. 
 
 A TKUE TALE. 
 
 There came one day in early Spring, 
 
 Two little birds of plumage fair, 
 
 A timid, warbling, tuneful pair, 
 
 And hovered 'round on cautious wing, 
 
 As doubting whether it were best 
 
 To make their home and build their nest 
 
 Beneath the porch. There all secure 
 
 Where column and entablature 
 
 Meet, in a corner snug and dry, 
 
 The tiny warblers soon descry 
 
 A fitting place where they might rear 
 
 Their feathered brood with cautious care. 
 
 But still they lingered, nor began 
 As yet to build, but seemed to scan
 
 THE HAPLESS BIRDS. 29 
 
 The quaint old house, as they would trace 
 
 Some sympathy upon the face 
 
 Of those, the dwellers of the place, 
 
 But most the dark -eyed Julia ; she 
 
 Would bid them welcome, if could be. 
 
 And why not ? Kindness may be shown 
 
 As well as spoken ; and be known 
 
 By gentle look as well as tone. 
 
 We may hold converse e'en with birds : 
 
 Nature makes signs, while men form words. 
 
 And so it seemed ; for when a day 
 Or two, or more, had passed away, 
 The tiny pair seemed reassured ; 
 Then to their task. They soon procured 
 Full many a twig, and, straw, and shred 
 Of fine soft wool, and fibrous thread 
 Of silken grassland soon complete 
 Their cosy dwelling, snug find neat :
 
 30 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And soon five tiny eggs were there, 
 So pure and white, so truly rare, 
 Like snowy pebbles from the strand 
 Of storied lake in Fairyland. 
 
 But change is Nature ! and ere long 
 
 These living pebbles (germs of song) 
 
 Have disappeared, and in their place 
 
 Five chirping birdlings lie apace. 
 
 And Julia oft would linger there, 
 
 And mark the kind provident care 
 
 With which the mother watched her brood, 
 
 Or winged her way in quest of food ; 
 
 Nor long until she would return 
 
 With some choice morsel, bug or worm ; 
 
 Then welcoming with pleading notes, 
 
 Five gaping, supplicating throats 
 
 Were always ready stretched to ask : 
 
 To keep them fed, no feeble task.
 
 THE HAPLESS BIRDS. 31 
 
 No longer had she any fear 
 Of Julia, but would linger near, 
 And gaze with meek inquiring eye 
 Into her face, and oft would fly 
 Within the house, to see her there 
 While busy with her daily care. 
 
 One day, while perched upon a chair, 
 A prowling mouser, unaware, 
 
 Stole softly in ; it made a spring 
 
 Poor bird ! thou nevermore shalt sing. 
 No more the glad melodious note 
 Shall issue from thy joyous throat : 
 But one short sudden cry of pain, 
 The last thou 'It ever make again. 
 Thy nestlings wait for thee amain ; 
 Long shall they wait, but wait in vain. 
 
 Though Julia saw, she could not speak ; 
 But pallor overspread her cheek.
 
 32 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And then the color came and went, 
 As the shocked heart its message sent 
 And then recalled ; and then at last, 
 When she remembered all the past, 
 Her mind proclaimed her pet was dear, 
 Her eye indorsed it with a tear. 
 And then she thought to rear the brood, 
 To watch their growth and bring them food. 
 Vain thought ! They sickened one by one, 
 And singly died, till all were gone. 
 
 Thus kindness is not always best ; 
 
 We oft curse whom we would have blest : 
 
 Oft heap calamity on those, 
 
 Our friends, we scarce would wish our foes. 
 
 And when 't is past, we can but feel 
 
 Our error or mistaken zeal. 
 
 Thus Julia of the birds would say : 
 
 " Had I but frightened them away, 
 
 All had been well with them to-day ;
 
 THE HAPLESS BIRDS. 
 
 Then had they built in some green tree, 
 All been alive, and glad, and free." 
 And then she moved the nest away ; 
 And, so that others might not stay, 
 Placed in the niche, to fill the space, 
 A mignonette* in an earthen vase. 
 
 3
 
 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 O witching moonlight ! chosen light of Love ! 
 'T is thy sweet smile that lures the maiden forth, 
 To wander with her lover, arm-in-arm, 
 Through shad'wy grove, or by the lonely rock, 
 Or murmuring stream. 
 
 Thy filmy veil, enveloping the earth, 
 Hides all its sterner features from the view ; 
 Peoples each nook and glen with shad'wy shapes ; 
 Curtains each tree and shrub with silvery gauze ; 
 Forming a thousand wild, enchanting bowers ; 
 Transforming earth into a land of dreams. 
 
 Thy halo gifts all nature with a voice. 
 The sighing, whispering trees, each dew -gemmed 
 leaf,
 
 MOONLIGHT. 35 
 
 Each waving blade of grass, e'en silent stones 
 Seem eloquent ; and in their varied tongues, 
 In mutest whisperings, speak of love. 
 
 Thy fav'ring ray, seen glim'ring from afar, 
 Calls Cupid from the hazy realms of space, 
 And hies him to the earth in Love's campaign, 
 Armed and equipped ; his bow a tempered moon 
 beam, 
 
 His arrows, love - tipt shafts of quiv'ring light. 
 Sweet woe, and blissful torture, seize all hearts 
 That brave his power or tempt his matchless skill. 
 Thy light is all for Love, and Love alone ; 
 Hatred and Vice shrink from thy gaze abashed, 
 While weazen - faced Cupidity forgets himself, 
 And Avarice is bartered off for Love. 
 
 Thou wert not present when the Evil One 
 Crept, like a serpent, into Paradise, 
 To lure our parents forth in sin and shame, 
 And heap calamity on all their kin.
 
 36 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 But thou art leaving us ; farewell, farewell ! 
 Thy author sinks below the western hills, 
 The length'ning shadows chase thee o'er the lea, 
 The frown of darkness clouds the brow of earth, 
 An.d all again is stern reality.
 
 LIVING IN THE PAST.* 
 
 Friend and companion of my early years ! 
 Your " lines " call up a host of memories 
 That lie close to my heart as do the tears 
 To a fond mother's eyes ; and as the breeze 
 
 
 
 Wakes from their rest the fallen autumn leaves, 
 And winnows them to drifts among the trees, 
 So 't is the wafted breath of bygone days 
 Collects the threads of memory's web, and weaves 
 Their perfect semblance in the tinted maze. 
 
 Men are but boys with beards, and care, and 
 
 thought : 
 
 Forgetting these, they might live o'er again 
 The simple pleasures which their boyhood brought, 
 
 * Written in reply to some Verses of a Friend. 
 37
 
 38 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And happy be, and joyous now as then. 
 But to forget," you '11 say, " it cannot be. 
 Forget our toils, and cares, and troubles, when 
 They meet and cling to us on every side ? 
 When wide awake can we forget to see ? 
 Or on the flying train forget to ride ? " 
 
 No, true ; but there are times when we may rest ; 
 
 And then, oblivious to all beside, 
 
 Live o'er again the olden times with zest 
 
 By contrast doubled ; that was then denied. 
 
 And we again in fancy may call o'er 
 
 The roll of our companions who have died, 
 
 And see them as they looked so long ago, 
 
 And play the 1 same old games again once more, 
 
 And listen to the old brook's gurgling flow. 
 
 I find myself at times in the old yard 
 Before the school house, early in the day, 
 Surveying lines across the level sward,
 
 LIVING IN THE PAST. 39 
 
 Then hear the famous " pom - pom - pull - away ! " 
 
 Then scamper off to reach the further line, 
 
 Some nimble dodger pressing on me hard, 
 
 His hand outstretched to seize my wampus skirt ; 
 
 His quick, hard breathing imitating mine, 
 
 He gains, and trips, we fall, but " no one hurt." 
 
 We next produce our implements of play, 
 
 The stitched yarn ball and rudely fashioned bat, 
 
 Then gather round in circular array ; 
 
 The game proposed, the fav'rite " three old cat." 
 
 The bat is tossed and fisted for the " ins." 
 
 " Whole hand or nothing ! close down ! " and all 
 
 that. 
 " One out, all out ! choose sides ! " and " My first 
 
 choice ! , 
 
 " And I '11 take Abe ! " cries he who hap'ly wins, 
 With much parade and highly piping voice. 
 
 And then the game goes on, we catch and throw, 
 And bat, and shout, and watch our chance to run,
 
 40 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And, in the terms of twenty years ago, 
 I almost scream out " Golly, aint it fun ! " 
 Our little sweethearts, too, are standing there,- 
 For you and I at least had always one. 
 (I used to wish I had a floating eye, 
 To gaze upon my charmer everywhere, 
 And scout around, a sort of optic spy.) 
 
 Abe was my bosom friend in those old days, 
 My allied force in- trouble and distress ; 
 He took my part in many various ways, 
 And acted Damon to my Pythias 
 In all save this he was American, 
 And used to say to me at times, " I guess 
 The Yankees are the bravest men afloat." 
 I was a stubborn little Englishman, 
 And this assertion tickled in my throat. 
 
 For I had read of valiant " Hearts of Oak," 
 And heard my father sing the Duke of York,
 
 LIVING IN THE PAST. 41 
 
 Rob Hood, and Little John, old Bolinbroke, 
 
 Young Hotspur, and some other human stork 
 
 Whose names now slip my mind, and so I said 
 
 " He either was mistook or in the dark." 
 
 I named my heroes over once again, 
 
 And mentioned, " one or two of them were dead, 
 
 But England always raised the bravest men." 
 
 He spoke of Bunker Hill, and Washington, 
 
 And how the Yankees down at Tip 1 canoe 
 
 Had drove the British under Marion. 
 
 " He guessed he knew a little history too /" 
 
 He rather beat me on authority, 
 
 And then he whispered, " Tell you what let's do 
 
 Who do you think 's the bravest, you or I ? " 
 
 I told him, " Rather guessed that I must be ; 
 
 But anyhow, at recess we would try." 
 
 When recess came, we slipt out unobserved 
 Behind the school house, where none else could see,
 
 42 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And by the glory of two nations nerved 
 
 We kicked and, cuffed each other lustily. 
 
 At length the teacher rapped a sash ; we quit" 
 
 The rough discussion as to bravery ; 
 
 We had to go ; but on some other other day 
 
 We 'd try and meet again to settle it, 
 
 Unless we found it out some other way. 
 
 This was no vulgar brawl which I relate, 
 
 No vent to personal antipathy ; 
 
 Each battled for the glory of a state 
 
 The State's, not ours, defeat or victory. 
 
 'T was fin'ly settled on another plan, 
 
 That is, it was agreed that each should be 
 
 Called peers in courage, causes being same, 
 
 When'er the Yankees or the British ran, 
 
 Such was the circumstance, they bore no blame. 
 
 In thinking o'er these scenes of former times 
 I find much pleasure, and some cause for grief ;
 
 LIVING IN THE PAST. 43 
 
 Such feelings call to life these simple rhymes 
 On my young friend, whose fair life was so brief ; 
 For I did often mourn the gallant boy, 
 Reproaching Death, that like a skulking thief 
 Came, as a dread marauder in. the night, 
 And robbed a household of its dearest joy, 
 And with his icy digits snuffed my light. 
 
 Yes, thus he died ; and Ab and Jim laid down 
 Their hopeful lives that others might be free ; 
 And like two severed barges drifting roun', 
 Wreck of the fleet, are only you and me. 
 But let us grasp the helm, and strong and firm 
 Direct our crafts o'er life's tempestuous sea, 
 Running Death's channel under safe escort, 
 Make a fair showing for our lengthened term, 
 And bring a goodly cargo into port. 
 
 They left us, and we struggle on alone ; 
 
 Still hope, and toil, and trust in the " To be,"
 
 44 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And now the airy dreams of youth are flown, 
 We grapple with the grim reality ; 
 We labor on from need and labor's sake, 
 And feel that all mankind are same as we, 
 Serving some end, in high or low estate, 
 Giving their might to that they undertake, 
 And if disabled, calmly " stand and wait."
 
 ALONE ON THE LAKE -SHORE. 
 
 JULY, 1871. 
 
 Sweet Lake Geneva ! nursling of the hills ! 
 A rustic bard presumes to sing thy praise. 
 Fair tribute of a myriad springs and rills ; 
 To thee I dedicate these simple lays, 
 For thee I string the long - neglected lyre ; 
 Let Fancy's thrilling touch awake the strain, 
 Let Truth dictate and Memory inspire : 
 Time, slack thy scroll ! I am a boy again, 
 A hopeful voyager upon life's main. 
 
 'T is early morn ; I wander 'long thy shore, 
 I search for curious pebbles on the strand, 
 Or watch the eagle o'er thy waters soar, 
 Or dig for clam-shells in the oozy sand. 
 But, hark ! what joyous sounds salute my ear,
 
 46 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And echoing roll along from hill to hill ? 
 The boist'rous laugh, the long - continued cheer, 
 The wild " whoopah " in mimic terrors shrill, 
 To give the unintiate a chill. 
 
 My cheery, wild companions ! merry pack ! 
 In single file they haste along the trail ; 
 " Hilloh ! hurrah, boys ! bully ! here is Jack." 
 Now, fellows, wont we have a glorious sail ? 
 " Oh no, I guess not ; Tom, go bring a rail ; 
 You get another, Bill, we shall want two ; 
 Get nice straight, flat ones, hearties, do not fail ; 
 You '11 find some split upon the hill, will do, 
 Close by the coon -tree, where the grape-vine 
 grew." 
 
 " George, did you bring an auger and some nails ? " 
 " Yes, here they are." " Good ; won't we have a 
 
 craft ? 
 Jim, cut two bushy cedars for -our sails,
 
 ALONE ON THE LAKE- SHORE. 47 
 
 These are the logs, we '11 soon have up our raft. 
 Here are those other fellows with the rails ; 
 Now, comrades, pin and bind her fore and aft ; 
 Now launch her, boys, the breeze delightful hails. 
 We 've poles to steer, and willing winds to waft 
 Our bark, not sharp of prow but light of draft." 
 
 And now we move, and now for greater speed 
 
 Is many a wish expressed ; to swell our sail 
 
 Our scanty wardrobe must supply the need ; 
 
 'T is quickly doffed, and stretched to woo the gale. 
 
 I '11 venture that since Noah built his ark 
 
 For all his various cattle, two -and -two, 
 
 That no man ever saw another bark 
 
 So quaintly rigged ; I 'm sure a nuder crew 
 
 Ne'er put to sea since first the breezes blew. 
 
 We soon are borne out far away from shore, 
 Our craft would fly as soon as make a tack : 
 'T was strano-e we had not thought of this before.
 
 48 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 " A glorious sail," but now the getting back. 
 " We 've got to swim it, boys, there 's no use talk 
 ing; 
 
 A precious thing it is we all know how, 
 As fly we can't, and have not faith for walking ; 
 So here goes, boys ; who takes the hindmost now ? 
 But hold ! we must not leave our clothes, I vow." 
 
 Each wardrobe 's gathered from the leafy mast, 
 
 And snugly rolled into a tidy pack, 
 
 Behind the shoulders with a string made fast, 
 
 All ready now to take the backward track. 
 
 A cheer, a plunge, we're urging through the 
 
 waves, 
 
 We 're facing t'ward our native beach once more, 
 Our youthful limbs the bracing water laves ; 
 We reach at length that happy goal, the shore, 
 All tired, and faint, and glad the task is o'er. 
 
 Would tears restore them, then I fain would weep ! 
 My loved companions, O, where are they all
 
 ALONE ON THE LAKE -SHORE. 49 
 
 Who on that day climbed up the slip'ry steep ? 
 Methinks e'en now I hear their ringing call, 
 " Look out below ! " With headlong furious crash 
 The unearthed boulder plunges down the hill, 
 Greeting the waters with a mighty splash ; 
 They, startled, leap in many a branching rill, 
 A wild commotion where all late was still. 
 
 Those on the summit marked the boulder's course, 
 Its each revolving bound and fearful lunge, 
 Till near the brink, when, like a frightened horse, 
 Leapt high in air to take the mad'ning plunge. 
 Then rang the long, loud, wild, exultant shout, 
 And rolled in echo 'long the timbered lea, 
 "Huzzah! huzzah!" Then some shrill voice 
 
 called out, 
 
 " It 's in the lake now, boys ; there let it be, 
 Till moved by earthquake or eternity." 
 
 And then the battle on the wooded slope ; 
 Our missiles, mandrakes growing on the field : 
 
 4
 
 50 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Twelve on each side, and each a " forlorn hope," 
 Would fall if need be, but would never yield. 
 But ere commencing, 'twould be only right 
 So we all thought to fix upon some plan 
 Of how we should conduct the coming fight. 
 " It should be fierce and furious as it can, 
 And yet if possible not lose a man." 
 
 This was thought good ; we did not then divine 
 That Peace and War ne'er travel hand -in -hand ; 
 That safety, fury, fierceness, ne'er combine 
 To make the sweeping charge ; but thus 't was 
 
 planned. 
 
 Our weapons should be mandrakes, as I said ; 
 Of these we 'd only throw the very softest, 
 Each should fire low, to save the other's head ; 
 Those should be beaten who were hit the oft'est : 
 The short ones thought this partial to the loftiest. 
 
 For further stipulations, they were these, 
 The thing should all be done in Indian style ;
 
 ALONE ON THE LAKE -SHORE. 51 
 
 When hotly pressed, we 'd dodge behind the trees, 
 Use ev'ry sort of trickery and wile 
 To lure the foe out on the open plain, 
 Then springing forward like a pack of hounds, 
 Pour down our bolts swift as a shower of rain, 
 Covering ourselves with glory or with wounds. 
 "Good, good!" all cried, and off each faction 
 bounds. 
 
 And now the fray commences with a cheer, 
 
 Our humane stipulations are forgot ; 
 
 As the contending factions draw more near 
 
 Excitement fans ; the flame of war grows hot, 
 
 And each fought but to conquer and to be 
 
 A hero in embryo ; sweet to tell 
 
 Would be the story of the victory. 
 
 Now all ring forth the savage, piercing yell, 
 
 Outvying that when great Tecumseh fell. 
 
 The* 'varying tide of battle ebbs and swells, 
 Charge and retreat, or countermarch, or fly,
 
 52 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Till sore with brittle shot, and mellow shells 
 
 Which burst, in darkness veiling either eye, 
 
 A youthful brave, with hands raised o'er his head, 
 
 Fell headlong, with a cry as if of pain. 
 
 All stood aghast ! we thought our comrade dead ; 
 
 His body rolled lank down the sloping plain, 
 
 The fray was o'er, the ruse was not in vain. 
 
 Then each related what his part had been 
 
 In the late action, what he saw and felt, 
 
 How he was pummel'd, being in between 
 
 Two storming parties ; then how he had dealt 
 
 His swift -hurled missiles, how he had to beat 
 
 (His ammunition gone, he sorely prest,) 
 
 A quick but not inglorious retreat. 
 
 " But, boys, who came off first, who second best, 
 
 Let blackened eyes and swollen cheeks attest." 
 
 These were our sports, our pastimes and our joys ; 
 Wild, free and thoughtless, few we had of cares
 
 ALONE ON THE LAKE -SHORE. 53 
 
 These find small favor in the eyes of boys 
 
 But, Time, thy hand hath sown these noxious tares 
 
 In rank profusion o'er the severed few 
 
 That yet survive to ponder on the past. 
 
 The broken remnant of that merry crew, 
 
 Thou hast dispersed them as the whirlwind's blast 
 
 Scatters the autumn-leaves at random cast. 
 
 Where are they now ? My voice breaks from 
 
 control, 
 'Tis loud and plaintive, though I would speak 
 
 low; 
 
 And sympathizing Echo, from the knoll, 
 Bears back the import of my query, " now." 
 Aye, " now ;" why not ? I know of then, 't was 
 
 here ! 
 
 But many changeful years have passed since then, 
 And all that youthful band, to memory dear, 
 Who now may live, are changed to scheming men, 
 That ne'er shall meet on these fair shores again.
 
 54 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Bright Gem of Waters ! let me ask of thee : 
 Thou wert the guardian of their happiest days ; 
 Where are they now, whose wild shouts, glad and 
 
 free, 
 
 Oft made these green hills vocal with thy praise ? 
 No Moslem ever knelt at Mecca's shrine, 
 When the long, weary pilgrimage was o'er, 
 With purer thoughts than they have bowed to 
 
 thine ; 
 
 Thy Kaba, these wild hills, this curving shore, 
 Where are they now who seemed almost t' adore ? 
 
 Thy rippling wavelets glide toward the shore, 
 
 They murmur playfully about my feet, 
 
 They seem to whisper of my friends of yore, 
 
 A truthful tale, yet mournful to repeat. 
 
 " Some fill the soldiers' grave in sunny climes, 
 
 They gave their lives that bondsmen might be 
 
 free ; 
 Some seek for riches in the distant mines ;
 
 ALONE ON THE LAKE -SHORE. 55 
 
 Some died in youth, some are beyond the sea ; 
 All have forsook our presence, all save thee." 
 
 " Oh, for the power to build the lofty rhyme ! " 
 
 That ye might still associate in song, 
 
 I would abridge my days, compound with Time, 
 
 And sink to sleep among earth's vanquished throng 
 
 Without a murmur, feeling I were blest, 
 
 In that, with thee, their names should still be 
 
 known 
 
 When they and I were in eternal rest. 
 It can not be ! the past 's forever flown, 
 And I must wander on thy shores alone. 
 
 Oh, the deep import of that word " alone : " 
 
 I never felt its meaning until now, 
 
 Though I have wandered in strange lands where 
 
 none 
 
 Have borne me company, save only Thou, 
 Spirit of Nature, yet I felt to be
 
 56 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 In fellowship with all thy various shapes ; 
 But here, though all 's familiar to me, 
 There is a silent emptiness which gapes 
 The soulless solitude the hermit apes. 
 
 There is a something wanting in the scene, 
 (Faces and forms I shall behold no more.) 
 And something in the seer, too, I ween, 
 (That youthful buoyancy naught can restore.) 
 Thy waters are as clear, thy shores as fair, 
 As when I first beheld thee, long ago ; 
 The change is but with me and those who were 
 Then with me ; but throughout the world 'tis so, 
 Yet all men mourn it ; why, I do not know.
 
 THE HUMAN FACE. 
 
 The human face ! clear index of the mind ! 
 Harp of the soul, where each soft stirring wind 
 Sprung fresh from thought, Eolian in play, 
 Gleams o'er the features, a prismatic ray 
 Of life, and change, and beauty, on each line, 
 When touched aright we plainly trace " Divine." 
 
 Let morbid Passion, that concentered Ate, 
 Chafe her fierce minions through their prison grate, 
 We mark the change, and Fancy peering in 
 Beholds the scene and hears the fearful din ; 
 Each growls, or roars, or vents his pent-up spleen 
 In rending bars or glaring from between 
 
 Hatred, a crouching tiger in his lair ! 
 Vice, cruel more, but timid as a hare ! 
 
 D (57)
 
 58 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Envy, a sneaking, whining, craven lynx ! 
 And Jealousy, a monstrous fabled sphinx ! 
 Important, strutting Vanity, and Pride, 
 A peacock and his shadow side by side ; 
 A frightened lamb is trembling, shrinking Fear, 
 But when at bay a wounded, hostile deer ! 
 There, too, aloof, the gladiator Love, 
 Brave as a lion gentle as a dove ! 
 
 All these, and more, within the bosom dwell, 
 
 And subdivide the heart in many a cell, 
 
 Wherein they lie inactive, till the flay 
 
 Of fit occasion calls them into play ; 
 
 When, as their substance moves within, we trace 
 
 Their subtle shadows flitting o'er the face. 
 
 The rigid lip, pale and transfixed with rage, 
 Or scornful twitching, as with palsied age, 
 Or smiling sensuous in carnation hue, 
 Sweet as the honeysuckle gemmed with dew ;
 
 THE HUMAN FACE. 59 
 
 Or cold and cruel, calmly fixed to beat 
 Sweet Mercy, weeping, from the judgment -seat ; 
 Or curled contemptuous, scorning to reply 
 By other means, to Baseness, passing by. 
 
 The gleaming eyes, that scorn to brook control ! 
 
 Those bright, reflecting windows of the soul 
 
 That outward beauty to the mind convey, 
 
 And backward flash the intellectual ray 
 
 Of quick vivacity ; which speak a thought 
 
 Of finer texture than e'er language wrought ; 
 
 Defying Babel, bounded by no zone, 
 
 Theii terms throughout the universe are known. 
 
 Now downward cast beneath the drooping lid, 
 
 Their luster by the sweeping lashes hid, 
 
 As when the maiden hears her lover's vow, 
 
 And can not find her voice to answer how 
 
 It is received; but the truth - speaking eye 
 
 Is never at a loss to make reply. 
 
 Melting in love, and cold and fierce in hate,
 
 60 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Iii pain blank, stony, as the ways of fate ; 
 Now Avild, now listless, when the judgment's flown, 
 Or Reason tumbles headlong from her throne, 
 Or when Affection's parting moment nears, 
 Gleaming in sorrow through a flood of tears. 
 
 The scowling brow, firm jaw, and changeful cheek, 
 
 Are but the signs by which the passions speak 
 
 In rigid terms for good, or yet for ill, 
 
 The fixed purpose of a ruling will ; 
 
 A child might read that nothing could involve 
 
 Or turn aside that look of firm resolve. 
 
 By thought, or will, or passion, thus addressed, 
 
 Thus speaks the face ; and when it is at rest 
 
 It tells a story of another kind. 
 
 As yet, it has but spoken of the mind : 
 
 Now look again, how plainly you may see 
 
 If health be there, if life's economy 
 
 Be running smoothly on without a jar,
 
 THE HUMAN FACE. 61 
 
 Without an ache, or twinge of pain, to mar 
 
 The perfect working of the great machine ; 
 
 No grain of fell disease swedged in between 
 
 Its fitting parts ; no scrofula, to log 
 
 Life's crimson stream ; no pestilential clog 
 
 To choke its valves ; no springs of poison swell 
 
 On joint or tissue, flooding ev'ry cell. 
 
 But from life's seat her fibrous engine speeds 
 
 The living current through arterial leads, 
 
 With strength and power the furthest pulse to 
 
 mount, 
 
 Returning pure to its perpetual fount ; 
 Then, then, behold upon the face arrayed 
 The lasting charms of perfect health portrayed !
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 The chill November winds are surging, moaning, 
 
 sighing; 
 
 The latest songster to a*sunnier clime has fled ; 
 The brown, sere leaves upon the troubled blast are 
 
 flying ; 
 The leaden sky looks drear and gloomy overhead. 
 
 All nature seems to be approaching dissolution . 
 The red-faced sun glows like a ball of molten fire ; 
 As if to wreak some strange and dreadful retri 
 bution, 
 He glares upon the earth a look of vengeance dire. 
 
 The harvest 's gathered and the summer 's truly 
 
 ended ; 
 And Autumn, too, is nearing now the further shore
 
 NOVEMBER. 63 
 
 Where grizzly Winter, with his icy hand extended, 
 Shall help her from Time's scudding sloop for- 
 
 evermore. 
 
 I 
 
 There Spring and Summer with their sister's spirit 
 
 meeting, 
 
 Among the winged shades of the eternal past, 
 In silence re-unite, in calm though joyous greeting, 
 Myths of departed time, immutable at last.
 
 TO A FAVORITE COUSIN. 
 
 Dear Pet : Your last has been received, 
 And surely I shall be believed 
 In saying what I now shall say. 
 Old Time has counted many a day, 
 And many a week has slipt away, 
 Since aught has come to please me better 
 Than the receipt of your dear letter ; 
 Because, sweet Cous., it was from you, 
 And with it came the writer too. 
 
 It seemed as if four circling years 
 Their toils and pains, joys, smiles and tears, 
 Had been annulled with all their train ; 
 We two were face to face again, 
 
 As when we talked of love, and lore, 
 
 (64)
 
 TO A FAVORITE COUSIN. 65 
 
 And beauty's power, and wisdom's store, 
 In those fond, cherished days of yore. 
 In musing o'er those hours of bliss, 
 I stole (forgive the theft) a kiss 
 From these fair pictured lips of thine, 
 They seemed like loadstone unto mine, 
 And drew them forward with more power 
 Than Evil, in temptation's hour, 
 Lays claim to Weakness as her dower. 
 
 " What do I think," you wish to know ; 
 " Have four long years' diurnal flow, 
 Adown time's rugged banks away, 
 Wrought much of change in Cousin May ?" 
 Dear Cous., I scarce know what to say ! 
 There is a change ! but to explain 
 Would yield me less of joy than pain ; 
 Yet 't is but what I thought to see 
 The common mutability 
 Time works in all mortality.
 
 QQ FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 The change is only slight in thee. 
 
 'T is but as April's fairest day 
 
 Had ripened into blooming May ; 
 
 But still it hints at our decay. 
 
 We first mature to vigor's bloom, 
 
 Then slowly " ripen for the tomb." 
 
 This is our universal doom ! 
 
 'T is stamped upon us in the womb, 
 
 Wove through our frames in Nature's loom. 
 
 But this scarce answers your request ; 
 
 'T is but the thoughts it did suggest. 
 
 A trifle thinner than you were. 
 More beauteous ? No ! but lovelier ; 
 Fairer, than then you seemed to me, 
 I cannot say, it could not be ; 
 My eyes were not so formed to see ; 
 I could not find it in my heart 
 To say you had a counterpart.
 
 TO A FAVORITE COUSIN. 67 
 
 But time has added one sweet grace, 
 And left it beaming on thy face. 
 'Tis where the mind has left its trace 
 In characters as clear as day ; 
 A certain that, which seems to say, 
 " God, pity poor humanity ; 
 
 
 
 Teach them to know themselves and Thee." 
 
 " Has age improved me ? " this you ask. 
 
 To answer it would be a task 
 
 Which might involve a deal of thought ; 
 
 And then, when answered, be as naught. 
 
 We 're apt to think as we are taught, 
 
 You then seemed perfect unto me, 
 
 What more " improvement " could there be? 
 
 I can say this much, and I will, 
 
 You are the same perfection still. 
 
 To please a whim, and flatter time, 
 
 I choose to tell you so in rhyme, 
 
 And hope you '11 think it no great crime,
 
 68 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 My space is done, sweet Cous., and I 
 lust for the present say " Good bye,' 
 And do not fail to write anon 
 To yours, as ever, 
 
 COUSIN JOHN.
 
 ACROSTIC. 
 
 To Julia, on receiving her Picture. March, 1871. 
 
 Oh, haste thee from the shades, my truant Muse ! 
 I crave thy aid, nor thou the boon refuse ; 
 But guide my hand to trace in numbers rude 
 Some wordy semblance of my gratitude. 
 
 Julia ! the rose is fair ! the lily too, 
 Under the morning sun, when gemmed with dew, 
 Looks sweetly beautiful, divinely true ; 
 Indeed, all flowers seem tokens from above, 
 All, fragrant emblems of undying love. 
 
 But, Julia, what are flowers compared to thee ! 
 Rare beauty, virtue, grace, and purity 
 
 All these combine to make thee such as Jove 
 
 (6 9 )
 
 70 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Yearning for lonely man might bid him love j 
 Surely that lucky wight were doubly blest 
 Having beside his will, great Jove's behest ; 
 Although there might be that would make him 
 
 mourn, 
 What would 't avail, if loved not in return ?
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 Calm, peaceful Night ! indulgent queen of rest ! 
 Earth's wearied millions slumber on thy breast, 
 And 'wake invigorated at thy close, 
 Thankful to thee, and sleep, for sweet repose. 
 
 The humble toiler on life's weary way 
 Hails thy approach to close the drudging day ; 
 And still hopes on that thou mayest yet return, 
 The glad forerunner of a happier morn. 
 
 The love - lorn maiden sighs the live - long day, 
 And, yearning for the dear one far away, 
 Finds comfort but with thee ; then in a dream 
 She floats enraptured down time's tranquil stream ; 
 The loved one by her side is seated now,
 
 72 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Again they pledge the oft-repeated vow ; 
 Such joy is hers, such bliss as may not be 
 Half equaled by the plain reality. 
 
 When warring hosts contend in bloody fight, 
 Pale Mercy shudders at the sick'ning sight, 
 And fiends exult, while sorrowing angels weep ; 
 Reason is dead ! Philanthropy 's asleep ! 
 Hate reigns supreme ! man stains his hand 
 In the life - current of his fellow - man ! 
 O fearful carnage ! list, the horrid din ! 
 The assembled powers of tyranny and sin, 
 Misrule and avarice, here all convene 
 To conjure up the woe - inspiring scene ; 
 While Want and Pestilence look on amain, 
 And Death keeps tally for the bloody game. 
 
 Then welcome, twice - doubly welcome, Night ! 
 Welcome thy shades to stay the stubborn fight, 
 Whose terrors end not on the gory plain,
 
 NIGHT. 73 
 
 But spreads like wild -fire o'er the wide domain. 
 
 The mockery of glory rides the air, 
 
 Thick with the breath of anguish and despair ; 
 
 For every pang there falls a distant tear, 
 
 And hearts will break for those who perish here. 
 
 Children shall wait in vain their sire's return, 
 
 And many a maiden's cheek will blanch to learn 
 
 That whom she thought the acme of true worth 
 
 Now lies a senseless clod of lifeless earth. 
 
 The agonizing gasp, the dying groan, 
 
 Prelude the orphan's sob and widow's moan. 
 
 These are thy trophies, most insatiate war, 
 And these the victims of thy rumbling car. 
 Behold them, Night ! O heed the world's distress, 
 And grant thy boon of sweet forgetfulness.
 
 WHAT IS WEALTH? 
 
 Oh, what is wealth ! or what is influence ! 
 I ask you, mortals, will these recompense 
 A life of ceaseless toil and constant care ? 
 If life has scarce a little hour to spare, 
 But must be dedicated to the " yellow god," 
 Better to sink at once beneath the sod. 
 
 Look on the face of nature ! all things there 
 In common thrive, when left to common care. 
 Each tree and shrub, e'en animated life, 
 Is guiltless of that avaricious strife 
 Which so belittles man ; he wants too much. 
 If he would but contented be with such 
 As Mother Earth would kindly furnish all, 
 Life might be freed from much that now is gall. 
 
 74
 
 WHAT IS WEALTH? 75 
 
 Man then were kept from Fashion's crimson shrine ; 
 Twelve hours each day in the dark noisome mine 
 Were then unknown. The lowly slave for bread, 
 The pampered rich in luxury are fed. 
 Unhappy both ! Why not adopt the means ? 
 Avoiding those unnatural extremes, 
 The giddy heights of affluent misery, 
 The groveling depths of wretched penury.
 
 REPLY TO * * 
 
 If " 'twixt two stools I tumble to the ground," 
 What matters, if my level there be found. 
 Might this not be a hint that I should toil 
 Like cursed Cain, a tiller of the soil ? 
 Yet proud the calling ; he who earns his bread 
 Direct from earth, may bear erect his head. 
 
 I 've lain aside the hammer, plane and saw, 
 And for a season grapple with the law ; 
 Tiring of this, or striving but in vain, 
 Mayhap I shall assume the plow again ; 
 Or, like the wandering shade of Discontent, 
 Turn once again toward the Occident , 
 Again on far Sierra's slopes appear, 
 The bold, the free, the careless mountaineer.
 
 REPLY TO * * 77 
 
 If only inclination were obeyed, 
 I 'd dabble in the stuff whence dreams are made, 
 And add a victim to the rhyming trade. 
 Survey the list, and ponder undismayed ! 
 Behold the scroll of names of those who wrought, 
 And wrote, and starved for fame too dearly bought ; 
 And often ere the purchase was complete, 
 Death plucked them heedless from the envied seat. 
 
 Unroll ! behold our Willis and our Poe 
 
 Among the latest on the famous row ; 
 
 Then further down, Hogg, Coleridge and Burns, 
 
 (Feasted and flattered, slighted, starved, by turns,) 
 
 And hundreds more whose names are not unknown 
 
 Ingratitude hath singled for her own : 
 
 Dim with the breath of ages, through time's mist, 
 
 Gleams Homer's name, the first upon the list. 
 
 " Now seven cities claim the Homer dead 
 Through which the living Homer begged his 
 bread."
 
 78 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 The grand old bard, the patriarch of song, 
 Thus craved a pittance from the vulgar throng ; 
 Thus lived the hero of the epic page, 
 And died the boast of each succeeding age. 
 
 The sport of circumstance, the tool of thought, 
 
 Strong, but too varied, often comes to naught, 
 
 But tosses guideless on the sea of time, 
 
 A random shallop from an unknown clime : 
 
 No anchor dragging in the oozy sand ; 
 
 No helm directs to any special land ; 
 
 But only drifting zigzag, onward borne 
 
 To that dim shore from which none e'er return.
 
 THE MORNING WALK. 
 
 My heart feels glad ! my soul expands 
 With joyful thoughts, all sorrow scorning. 
 Then farewell Care ! here let us part ; 
 I '11 turn thee homeless from my heart 
 This bright May morning. 
 
 The balmy air is fresh and sweet ; 
 The dewdrops to the grass are clinging ; 
 The blushing morn is bright and clear, 
 Her lord, the King of Day, is near ; 
 The birds are singing. 
 
 The bonnie Thrush, perched on a twig, 
 His blithest, sweetest notes caroling ; 
 
 7?
 
 80 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Now low his song, and now elate, 
 As though to cheer his silent mate, 
 Her heart consoling. 
 
 The modest Robin greets the dawn ; 
 His breast the purple east outvying : 
 He may not peer the thrush in song, 
 The breezes bear his strain along, 
 
 " There 's naught like trying." 
 
 Down by the brooklet's willowy brink 
 The babbling Bob-o'-link is flinging 
 His crazy, joyous notes along, 
 Borne on a fluttering flood of song, 
 Still madly singing. 
 
 Who could feel lonely, sad or drear, 
 While in his ear sweet sounds are chiming? 
 While Nature wears a look of cheer, 
 And Sol's broad disk just 'gins to 'pear, 
 Slow upward climbing.
 
 BIRDS OF SPRING. 
 
 Sing on ye warblers ! sweetly sing ; 
 I love to hear your joyous notes, 
 And see you flit on gladsome wing 
 As lightly as the perfume floats 
 From off the scented rose. 
 
 Ye seem forever glad and gay, 
 And happy always and content ; 
 From blushing morn till close of day 
 Your tide of joy is never spent, 
 But ever blithesome flows. 
 
 Ye merry songsters, tell me this 
 'T is all a weary heart might ask 
 
 6 (8 1)
 
 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Whence is the source of all your bliss ? 
 The power that bids you ever bask 
 In joyous tuneful mood ? 
 
 Or is it only lack of care, 
 
 Or the sweet task, all self-imposed, 
 
 Of ev'ry chirping, twit'ring pair, 
 
 To build their nests by twigs inclosed, 
 
 And rear their darling brood ? 
 
 The answer comes a thrilling strain - 
 " Our very nature is to sing, 
 And warble for the vernal train ; 
 We are the choristers of Spring !"
 
 BEAUTIFUL DEWDROPS. 
 
 Beautiful dewdrops ! 
 
 Ye cling to the grass-tops 
 
 As clear and bright 
 
 As beads of light. 
 Witching bewilderment of sight ! 
 O sweet enchanting scene ! 
 Beneath the pale reflecting moon 
 The meadows seem with diamonds strewn , 
 Refulgent 'neath night's dreamy noon 
 Ye cast your glittering sheen. 
 
 The earth seems wrapped in silent sleep, 
 
 Her myriad viewless elfins weep, 
 
 And these their tears that downward creep 
 
 Along the drooping grass ; 
 
 83
 
 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 A sea of crystallated lens' ! 
 
 Like fireflies glimmering o'er the fens, 
 
 The shimmering moonbeam backward bends 
 
 From drops of liquid glass. 
 
 Pure, priceless jewels of the night ! 
 Whether pale Luna's silvery light, 
 Like tiny meteors in flight, 
 Flash from your beaming face, 
 Or whether, lingering into day, 
 The sun's first glancing golden ray 
 Flies from your cheeks like gilded spray, 
 And adds a richer grace, 
 
 Ye are the loveliest gems of earth . 
 
 For beauty, purity, and worth 
 
 All contribute to give you birth ; 
 
 And charming while you stay, 
 
 All nature greets you as a friend, 
 
 While blooming flowers their leaves extend,
 
 BEAUTIFUL DEWDROPS. 85 
 
 And meeting thus, your beauties blend 
 As fair as rosy May. 
 
 The morning-glory, opening wide 
 Her bell-shaped petal, woos inside, 
 Your glistening pearls, that you may hide 
 Screened from the heat of day ; 
 There, folded fondly to her breast, 
 Abode of purity and rest, 
 Absorbed in beauty, and caressed, 
 Ye sweetly pass away.
 
 THE SUMMER'S EVE. 
 
 The summer sun sinks slowly to his rest , 
 His golden smile still lingers in the West ; 
 Now forms a halo of prismatic light, 
 A flush upon the brow of coming night. 
 
 List' now, the bells of homeward-winding herds, 
 The cow-boy's song, the chant of evening birds, 
 The nighthawk's downward plunge and startling 
 
 roar, 
 As skyward back he turns again to soar. 
 
 Now melts the twilight into deeper shade, 
 And myriad frogs commence their serenade 
 Of varied tone, from high to heavy notes, 
 From piping gills and deep sonorous throats.
 
 THE SUMMERS EVE. 87 
 
 Now chirps the cricket, in some crevice hid ; 
 Now twangs her harp the modest katydid ; 
 Now buzzing beetles hum their crazy rounds, 
 And make the air a din of flying sounds. 
 
 The Lilliputian lightnings flashing bright 
 From firefly clouds, illuminate the night ; 
 Winged drops of phosphorus, they shine and blaze, 
 Till meadows seem a pyrotechnic haze 
 
 Of glowing moths in labyrinthine maze, 
 All scintillating 'neath the steady gaze : 
 Like flakes of fire, they float so light and crisp, 
 Ten million Wills, with each his little wisp.
 
 KITTY. 
 
 Fair daughter of our kindly host, 
 My fondest wish shall ever be 
 That he on earth who loves thee most, 
 Shall dearest be to thee. 
 
 For beauty dwells upon thy cheek, 
 And looks out from thy beaming eyes ; 
 Sure, he who wins thee still may speak 
 Of earthly Paradise. 
 
 Bright hopes be thine, and be fulfilled, 
 And happiness from love distilled ; 
 And aught beside thou could'st have willed 
 Be thine thy latest day.
 
 KITTY. . 89 
 
 Then lying sweetly down to rest, 
 Thy crowning hope of all be blest, 
 And Heaven receive thee as a guest. 
 
 Thine truly, 
 
 JOHN B. KAYE.
 
 WILLIAM AND WINNIE. 
 
 William Wallace went a-courting 
 
 On a summer's day ; 
 Found the witching Winnie Werner 
 
 Working in the hay. 
 
 Watched her weave the winding windrow 
 
 With her wooden rake ; 
 Said, " Could I but woo and win her 
 
 For her own sweet sake 
 
 " Happy would I be as sunshine, 
 
 Richer than a Jew, 
 Wed to winsome Winnie Werner, 
 
 Fresh as morning dew." 
 
 qo
 
 WILLIAM AND WINNIE. 91 
 
 Then he kept aloof to mark her, 
 
 Noting all her charms, 
 " Lips so red, and cheeks so rosy, 
 
 Perfect moulded arms, 
 
 " Brow as fair as alabaster ! 
 
 Teeth as white as snow ; 
 Roguish eyes that dance and sparkle, 
 
 Blacker than the sloe ; 
 
 " Lithe in form as any willow ; 
 
 Grace and beauty rare , 
 Dainty feet, and flowing ringlets ; 
 
 Altogether fair !" 
 
 Thus he gave the final verdict, 
 
 Summing up aloud ; 
 Winnie heard, and, looking, saw him, 
 
 Then she smiling bowed.
 
 92 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Said, " Good morrow, Mr. Wallace ! 
 
 Very pleasant day ! 
 Better get a rake, and help me 
 
 Gather up this hay. 
 
 " Papa's hired man has left him, 
 
 And he 's all alone ; 
 So I asked him let me help to 
 
 Rake up what was mown ; 
 
 " And you 've heard it oft repeated, 
 ' Make hay while the sun 
 
 Shines ; ' so get a rake and help me 
 Till we have this done." 
 
 William, willing, went to help her 
 
 Finish up the task ; 
 Then he smiling said unto her, 
 
 " Winnie, let me ask
 
 WILLIAM AND WINNIE. 93 
 
 " Is there nothing else you think of 
 
 I can help you do ? 
 For it only seems a pleasure 
 
 Thus to work for you. 
 
 "Let me labor for you ever, 
 
 All the way through life ; 
 And discharge me, Winnie, never : 
 
 Be my darling wife. 
 
 " Let this hay -day be my pay-day, 
 
 While we both shall live ; 
 Your hand and heart, both in advance, 
 
 Is all you need to give." 
 
 Winnie, blushing, murmured something ; 
 
 What, I will not say : 
 But as they were shortly married, 
 
 Think you it was " nay " ?
 
 MY DESTINY'S STAR. 
 
 Dark and drear is the night ! 
 
 But my heart is as light 
 As the ruffles of Aurora's bar ; 
 
 For my steed knows the road 
 
 Oft before he has trode, 
 And a " light in the window V my star. 
 
 Across meadow and field, 
 
 Now bereft of their yield, 
 I can see it now gleaming afar, 
 
 For it cleaves the dark night 
 
 Like a meteor bright, 
 And I feel 't is my destiny's star.
 
 MY DESTINY'S STAR. 95 
 
 The wrecked mariner tost, 
 
 When his compass is lost, 
 And his vessel is straining each spar, 
 
 Turns his keen, anxious eye 
 
 T'ward the cloud - covered sky, 
 He is looking, in vain, for his star. 
 
 But this beacon of mine 
 
 Ne'er refuses to shine, 
 Howsever the elements war. 
 
 The fair keeper is there, 
 
 And her unceasing care 
 Still keeps fed the bright flame of my star. 
 
 Be 't for better or worse, 
 
 Prove 't a blessing or curse, 
 To my happiness make, or to mar, 
 
 Yet still on to the end, 
 
 My course never shall bend, 
 I will follow my destiny's star.
 
 ACROSTIC.* 
 
 Along the pale, dim vista of the past, 
 Now strewn with wrecks of early hopes and joys, 
 Nomadic Memoiy's yearning glance is cast 
 Among the ruins of her cherished toys. 
 
 Blessed be Memory's reviving power ! 
 Attachments, friendships, are lived o'er again, 
 Keeping life's jewels all within the hour. 
 Even this, dear lady, be my wish for thee, 
 " Remembrance sweet be with thee constantly." 
 
 * Written on request of a lady friend. 
 96
 
 TO A YOUNG LADY KNITTING A TIDY. 
 
 See how her taper fingers fly, 
 
 And weave the thread in shapes exquisite ; 
 
 And, as the fabric meets the eye, 
 
 One cannot help exclaim, " What is it ?" 
 
 So delicate in every part, 
 
 So like the web of some great spider, 
 
 Or like some " Bless your silly heart, 
 
 'Tis what we ladies call a ' tidy.' ' 
 
 A " tidy' 1 '' eh ! untidy name 
 For such a maze of loops and meshes ! 
 Like frost - work on a window pane, 
 Urns, labyrinthine scrolls, and dashes 
 Are traced along with nicest skill, 
 In lines where native beauty lingers.
 
 '98 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Here art 's a servant to the will, 
 And art and will direct thy fingers. 
 
 I do admire the work, 't is true ! 
 
 To claim my praise, few things are fitter, 
 
 Yet one of those few things are you, 
 
 The black -eyed, red -cheeked, rougish knitter; 
 
 The loveliest work of all, I ween ; 
 
 For in the first, when God made Adam, 
 
 That good man liked not all he 'd seen, 
 
 One half as well as Eve, his madam.
 
 LOVE. 
 
 O Love ! thou only joy of life ! 
 Sweet haven of time s troubled sea ! 
 What balm in all this world of strife, 
 Save only thee ? 
 
 Without thee, Hope had naught to give, 
 And Memory naught on which to dwell ; 
 Without thee who would care to live 
 And say farewell. 
 
 Farewell to every kindly glow 
 That warms or cheers the troubled heart ! 
 Farewell to happiness below, 
 And peace, depart ! 
 
 99
 
 100 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Farewell to all of good, indeed ! 
 With nothing left but care, and pain, 
 And wretchedness, and hungry greed, 
 And lust of gain. 
 
 I would not longer care to stay, 
 E'en where Potosi's glittering store 
 Heaped at my feet, should Mammon say, 
 " Love thou no more !" 
 
 Of all the scenes my life has known, 
 But few I would live o'er again, 
 And those are they where Love alone 
 Would say " Amen.''
 
 THE IRISH EMIGRANT'S FAREWELL. 
 
 The ship in the offing is ready for sailing, 
 O'er the stormy Atlantic to bear me away 
 From the home of my fathers ; my own beloved 
 
 Erin, 
 Farewell ! I shall see thee no more from to-day. 
 
 Farewell to the little thatched cot I was born in, 
 The cot where my father and mother both died, 
 And I, a poor orphan, was left sad to mourn in, 
 With no one of kin in the wide world beside. 
 
 O, a silent farewell to the graves of my kindred ! 
 Green mounds with the beautiful shamrock grown 
 o'er ;
 
 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 My poor, darling mother, how sadly 't would grieve 
 
 her, 
 Could she know I was leaving Old Erin's green 
 
 shore. 
 
 Farewell, my sweet Nora ! I 'm sure old Killdoree 
 A fairer, and truer maid never has known ; 
 Unless fortune deceive me, I know you '11 believe 
 
 ie, 
 I soon will send for you, to make you my own. 
 
 O, what is the curse that has fallen on Erin ? 
 For her soil is a home for her children no more : 
 Like exiles they wander, the wide world all over, 
 And yet the Green Isle is the land they adore. 
 
 It is Anarchy's reign that has driven them from her, 
 And made them feel strange in the land of their 
 
 birth ; 
 
 The tide of misrule has arisen upon her, 
 And sent them adrift o'er the face of the earth.
 
 THE HERMIT'S LAMENT. 
 
 I am weary and tired, all the world seems so dark, 
 
 And there 's nothing oil earth that I care to re 
 mark ; 
 
 Though once I loved knowledge, and delved in 
 her mine 
 
 After bright gems of truth and great proverbs, 
 that shine 
 
 With the lustre of wisdom, yet what have I 
 learned ? 
 
 That by sweat of man's, \>row- is, his sustenance, 
 earned ! 
 
 That near all men are selfish and work but for pay ! 
 
 That most friendships fall back in adversity's day ! 
 
 That the few that are true death takes soonest 
 away ! 
 
 That the research of man, the extent that it goes,
 
 104 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Serves only to teach him how little he knows ! 
 That the deep sleep of death is his hope for re 
 pose ! 
 
 That there comes scarce a hope, or a moment of joy, 
 But doubt and conjecture must cast some alloy 
 In the mint of the mind, thus to harden each 
 
 thought 
 
 To the wear of the world in adversity wrought ! 
 That of men, nine in ten, I will lay, as a rule 
 Will cringe, duck, and scrape to the bond-holding 
 fool! 
 
 'T is hence I am sad, and dejected, and changed ! 
 'T is hence all the things I once loved are estranged ! 
 'T is hence all my faith in humanity 's gone ! 
 'T is hence in my cave that I live all alone ! 
 Here let me live on till the end of my days, 
 Far away from society 's blame or her praise, 
 And when as a house, I have done with my cave, 
 Let no one intrude, it will serve for a grave,
 
 THE OLD YEAR. 
 
 JAN. 1, 1872. 
 
 The clock strikes twelve ! The passing year 
 Silent recedes from off time's stage ! 
 Thou grave of hope ! thou ghost of fear ! 
 Thou vehicle of many a tear ! 
 Thou, too, art lain upon the bier 
 And borne away. 
 
 What changes have thy seasons brought 
 What lessons unto youth and age 
 Has thy administration taught ! 
 What havoc, what destruction wrought 
 What bloody battles have been fought 
 Whilst thou held sway.
 
 106 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 What windings in the path of fate 
 Thy brief career hath brought to view ! 
 What homes were rendered desolate ! 
 What rulers sank beneath the weight 
 Of an abused, misgoverned state, 
 What need to tell. 
 
 Sure some have watched thee out to-night, 
 And seen thy place filled by the new, 
 Whate'er befall, whate'er betide, 
 Whate'er may in the future bide, 
 Will scarcely wish thee aught beside 
 A long farewell.
 
 CHICAGO IN ASHES.* 
 
 Queen City of the proud imperial West ! 
 City that was, but is not ! thou hast sunk 
 As thou hadst risen ! Greatness is a guest 
 Will ne'er forsake thee. Even now, when shrunk 
 By the dread sea of fire which whelmed thee o'er, 
 Like the mad maelstrom, in its lurid spray 
 A flood of flame whose deep, unearthly roar 
 Shall haunt thy people's hearts their latest day 
 Still art thou great. The desolated plain 
 Where late stood princely marts and gilded halls, 
 The fox and badger might resume again, 
 And swallows build among thy crumbled walls. 
 
 Unequaled in thy rise, and in thy fall 
 Outvying Moscow ! Yet no Bonaparte, 
 
 October 11, 1871. 
 107
 
 108 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 With famished legions, threatens to appal 
 With deeper gloom the mourning public heart. 
 Thy stately fabrics faded into smoke ! 
 Great convocation of triumphant art 
 Dispersed like chaff before the whirlwind's stroke ; 
 While Ruin reigned supreme in every part. 
 Sad desolation ! church, and court, and home 
 Mingling promiscuous in grim decay. 
 Dilapidation of our modern Rome ! 
 The mighty ruins of a little day ; 
 But such a day ! what woe, and grief, and tears, 
 Despair, and death, and ruin, and their train, 
 With all the evils of a hundred years 
 Concentered in this space of dread and pain. 
 Mothers and children, husbands, daughters, wives, 
 Fled terror-stricken, as the tongued flames 
 Lapped up their homes ; fled only with their 
 
 lives. 
 
 Whither, they knew not ! and the ready names 
 Of the dear missing ones were called aloud,
 
 CHICAGO IN ASHES. 109 
 
 But died to wliispers in the mournful din 
 Of cries and lamentations from the crowd : 
 Security was all they sought to win. 
 
 Far-famed metropolis of the Occident ! 
 What fate has overtaken thee and thine 
 Is sad to contemplate ; words are no vent : 
 There should be grief and sorrow in each line 
 To trace the feelings of the thrilling heart 
 While musing on the scenes which greet the eye 
 Along thy smould'ring thoroughfares ; a part 
 No arbitrary signs or sounds supply. 
 
 Thy beggared poor bewail the ruthless stroke 
 Which left them houseless, homeless refugees ! 
 Thy merchant princes trade's true hearts of 
 
 oak 
 
 Are princely beggars ! yet they stem the seas 
 Of their misfortune, with that fortitude, 
 Born of high hope and lofty enterprise,
 
 HO FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 With which thy sons have ever been imbued. 
 And thou, and they, like Phoenix, shall arise 
 Till all thy former grandeur is surpassed, 
 And thou again be 'mong the foremost clashed.
 
 THE DRUMMER-BOY'S FATE. 
 
 Just before the great fight on the plains of Ma- 
 
 rengo, 
 
 While Bonaparte's glory was still in full blast, 
 McDonald was hastening forward to join him, 
 Marching over the Alps by the great Splugen Pass 
 
 While along a steep ledge the tired soldiers were 
 
 toiling, 
 
 Breaking loose from above them, a volume of snow 
 Came glancing down on them, and catching a 
 
 drummer - boy, 
 Bore him down in its course to the gorge far below. 
 
 Shocked and dumb were the troops at the fate of 
 their comrade ;
 
 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 For dead they supposed him, and mangled and 
 
 torn ; 
 When hark! from the deep snowy gorge there 
 
 came welling 
 The long -roll and tattoo in air upward borne. 
 
 Stout, faithful young heart ! 't was the call of a 
 
 soldier, 
 And if soldiers could aid him he knew help would 
 
 come, 
 When they thought of their comrade in many a 
 
 battle, 
 And heard the wild notes of his soul-stirring drum. 
 
 Brave hearts yearned with pity, but help could 
 
 not reach him, 
 And the stern haste of war to find means could 
 
 not wait ; 
 
 And while his reveille made echo the glaciers, 
 They left the brave drummer -boy to his sad fate.
 
 THE DRUMMER-BOY'S FATE. H3 
 
 Exhausted and chilled still he kept up a rat -tat, 
 Though his heart 'gan to sink and his fingers were 
 
 numb ; 
 
 Still he sent in appeal, to the troops far above him, 
 The fluttering notes of his faithful snare -drum. 
 
 Then he sank in the snow and a film crossed his 
 
 vision, 
 
 And death stole upon him a dull, sleepy trance ; 
 His drum it was silent, his heart too was muffled, 
 And soon ceased to beat for the glory of France.
 
 IN THE DEEP, TANGLED FOREST. 
 
 In the deep, tangled forest I roamed when a boy, 
 Absorbed and enchanted by solitude's spell, 
 
 Till I grew a young hermit, and found sweetest joy 
 Where Nature untrammeled primeval did dwell. 
 
 The shy woodland denizens all seemed my friends, 
 And with cautious timidity oft would draw near, 
 
 Urged on by the power curiosity lends, 
 In confidence partly, and partly in fear. 
 
 The "coo" of the pigeon, the mourning -dove's 
 
 note, 
 
 Were sounds that delighted my too-pensive ear ; 
 And the pheasant's wild tattoo, loud beaten by rote, 
 To the song of the thrush, full of music and 
 qheer.
 
 IN THE DEEP, TANGLED FOREST. H5 
 
 The whispering branches, when stirred by the 
 
 breeze, 
 
 Related a story addressed to my soul ; 
 And autumn's sere leaves, as they fell from the 
 
 trees, 
 
 Awakened strange feelings I scarce could con^ 
 trol. 
 
 'T was a pleasure to climb up the steep jutting cliff, 
 And stray 'long the smooth pebbly beach of the 
 
 lake ; 
 
 To launch on the waters the miniature skiff, 
 Or thread the wild maze of the vine -tangled 
 brake. 
 
 Once I watched far above me the proud eagle soar, 
 In the blue cloudless heavens, a speck black as 
 night ; 
 
 While a craving came o'er me I ne'er felt before, 
 And I envied the monarch his powers of flight.
 
 THE IRISH EMIGRANT'S DYING FARE 
 WELL TO HIS LOVE. 
 
 'T is a long time now since I left thee, dear Annie, 
 Yet thy memory is dear to my mind 
 
 As thou wert when stern fortune bereft me, sweet 
 
 Annie, 
 Of one aye so gentle and kind. 
 
 Yet was hope bright and strong when I started, 
 
 dear Annie, 
 
 And it said, " we should soon meet again ; " 
 And you smiled through your tears as we parted, 
 
 my Annie, 
 And bade me God speed o'er the main. 
 
 116
 
 IRISH EMIGRANT'S DYING FAREWELL. 
 
 Then our ship sped away o'er the wave, dear Annie, 
 And my heart swelled with hope and with pride, 
 
 As I thought of a bright future day, sweet Annie, 
 When, returning, I 'd make thee my bride. 
 
 I thought of the wealth I should earn, dear Annie, 
 
 In the land that lay over the sea ; 
 And how you would greet my return, sweet Annie, 
 
 When kind fortune had sent me to thee. 
 
 Oh, would I had sank in the wave then, dear Annie, 
 'T would been better, far better, for me, 
 
 Had the deep ocean bed been my grave, my Annie, 
 For then thou, at least, Jiadst been free. 
 
 For misfortune has followed my path, dear Annie, 
 And sickness has wasted my frame ; 
 
 And e'er Winter has passed in his wrath, sweet 
 
 Annie, 
 There '11 be naught left of me, save my name.
 
 FACTS AND FANCIE'S. 
 
 Then farewell forever, on earth, my dear Annie, 
 For hope now is dead in my breast, 
 
 Save the hope that 's immortal at birth, my Annie, 
 To meet those we love with the blest.
 
 I LOVE THEE STILL. 
 
 Sweet reminiscence of the past 
 Those bygone days shall ever be ; 
 For wheresoe'er my lot be cast 
 My thoughts still fondly turn to thee. 
 
 There, crowned on Memory's airy throne, 
 Serenely sweet, and purely fair, 
 Reign till the grave hath claimed its own, 
 And sleeps my clay in silence there. 
 
 I can not, will not, say " farewell/* 
 Though parted, we shall meet again 
 Where all may love, where all may dwell 
 In peace, and Love shall say " Amen."
 
 J20 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 O, think not that my heart is cold ! 
 O, do not think 1 shall forget 
 Those pleasant scenes, those days of old. 
 No, no ! they sweetly haunt me yet. 
 
 If I have ever done thee wrong, 
 Or ever caused thee one regret, 
 Forgive, forgive ! shall be my song, 
 But O, I can not say " forget." 
 
 Forget ! no, no ! my heart rebels, 
 My tongue shall not belie my will ; 
 Within my heart thy image dwells, 
 And, Darling, O, I love thee still.
 
 THE SOLDIER'S FAREWELL. 
 
 'T is fate, we must part, my sweet Mary, good - by, 
 Let us hope we shall soon meet again ; 
 
 'Tis the stern voice of duty commands me to hie 
 Once more to the tent - dotted plain. 
 
 For my comrades are waiting my coming, to march 
 
 And join in the battle array : 
 Where the death-storm is raging, and fevered lips 
 parch, 
 
 I must mingle my might in the fray. 
 
 Then sadly, fondly, farewell, dear Mary, 
 Let us hope, only hope for the best ; 
 
 Should I fall, all I crave is a tear, Mary, 
 For him who has gone to his rest.
 
 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Thou art weeping, my Mary ; forbear, dear, as 
 
 yet- 
 Though tears are becoming in thee ; 
 And how can I chide thee ? I should not forget 
 Those love -dews are falling for me. 
 
 Believe me, dear Mary, should mine be the death 
 Which is borne in the battle's fierce flame, 
 
 Should the death -shot but leave me one lingering 
 
 breath, 
 I will shape it to whisper thy name. 
 
 Then sadly, fondly, farewell, dear Mary, 
 Let us hope, only hope for the best ; 
 
 Should I fall, all I crave is a tear, Mary, . 
 For him who has gone to his rest.
 
 SINKING OF THE NORTHFLEET. 
 
 [Early in 1873, the ship Northfleet, while anchored for the night 
 in the British Channel, was run into by a steamer and sunk, with over 
 three hundred men, women and children on board. Captain Knowles, 
 the commander, conducted himself In the most heroic manner, and 
 stood at his post when the ship went down. His wife, a young girl of 
 nineteen, to whom lie had only been a few weeks married, he succeeded 
 In getting into one of the boats with some of the other ladies, and she 
 was saved. "Good-by, my darling," cried he, from the parting planks 
 Good-by, my love; 1 shall never see you more,'' was her reply from 
 the crowded boat.] 
 
 " Darling, farewell ! " the gallant captain cried ; 
 " A long farewell to thee, my lovely bride ! " 
 As on the sinking Northfleet's fractured side 
 
 He dauntless stood. 
 
 " Farewell, my love, I ne'er shall see you more ! " 
 The wife replied, as, moving t'ward the shore, 
 The human -freighted life -boat struggled o'er 
 
 The briny flood. 
 
 There, there, among that terror-stricken throng, 
 The captain, keeping back the rough and strong,
 
 124 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Urged the weak and timid ones along 
 
 Into the boats ; 
 
 Cheering by act, and firm, though kindly word, 
 Three hundred souls that still are left on board, 
 Inspiring hope that all might be restored 
 
 While yet she floats. 
 
 But ah ! she settles ! hope begins to wane ! 
 All human efforts now are idly vain ! 
 She plunges deep in the engulphing main 
 
 To rise no more ; 
 
 While the divided waters pressing round, 
 Rush in the chasm with a mighty bound, 
 And eddying, seething, with a dreadful sound, 
 
 Deep whelmed them o'er. 
 
 Honor to him who stood upon the deck ! 
 Commander still, though of a sinking wreck ; 
 Scorning to quit, yet powerless to check 
 The coming doom.
 
 SINKING OF THE NORTHFLEET. 125 
 
 True as a Trojan, faithful to his post, 
 Giving what aid he could at any cost, 
 Thoughtless of self, he, with the many lost, 
 Sank to his tomb. 
 
 England, the loss be thine ! yet mayest thou tell 
 How still thy sons perform their duty well, 
 E'en while they listen to the dread death -knell 
 
 Call on their souls ; 
 
 Parting from loved ones with a yearning heart, 
 While throes of anguish pierce them like a dart, 
 Yet firm and true to duty's sacred part, 
 
 Like gallant Knowles.
 
 STORM AT SEA. 
 
 The air is a whirlwind ! the ocean is foam ! 
 And the shadow of night is abroad on the main. 
 O'er the wild seething chaos, the deep thunders 
 
 roam, 
 
 And the lightnings are battling the darkness in vain. 
 Will peace ever dwell on the waters again ? 
 How the mad, moaning hurricane hastens away 
 And ravels the whitecaps to volleys of spray. 
 Wild terror and tumult ! the spirit of Cain 
 Seems urging the elements on to the fray. 
 While the shouts of revenge and the wailings of 
 
 pain, 
 
 With angry upbraidings and cries of dismay, 
 Obtrude on the ear in a soul - chilling strain, 
 Appalling the senses with vivid alarm, 
 While we 're tossed like a splinter, the sport of 
 
 the storm. 
 
 126
 
 THE PITILESS SNOW. 
 
 [On the 7tU of January, 1873, commenced one of the most terrible 
 snow and wind storms on record. Ill parts of Iowa, Minnesota, and 
 Wisconsin it raged for three days with unabated fury. Trains were 
 snowed iu and travel was effectually stopped. Hundreds of persons in 
 different parts ef the country perished from cold and exhaustion. So 
 strong was the wind and so dense and blinding the snow that it was 
 impossible to discern any object even within a few yards. Many persons 
 were lost, and some perished within a stone's throw of their habitations. 
 The whole atmosphere seemed like a vast whirlpool of snow.] 
 
 Oh, the snow, the pitiless snow ! 
 It has filled many hearts full of sorrow and woe, 
 For it swept like a furious flood o'er the land : 
 Like a raging destroyer, its pulse - stilling hand 
 Fell chill on the wanderers. Toilsome and slow 
 Still they struggled along ; but, oh ! where could 
 
 they go ? 
 True, they move as they think but, oh ! how 
 
 could they know ? 
 They were blinded and stunned by the pitiless 
 
 snow.
 
 128 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Oh, the snow, the merciless snow ! 
 How it beat in their faces, a querulous foe ; 
 How it eddied and whirled in the bellowing blast ; 
 How it filled in their footprints, ere scarce they 
 
 had passed ; 
 How it stung ev'iy cheek, like sharp blows from 
 
 a whip ; 
 How it drove in their ears, how it chafed ev'ry 
 
 lip; 
 How each swift-flying particle dealt them a 
 
 blow: 
 They 're bewildered and lost in the pitiless snow. 
 
 Oh, the snow, the treacherous snow ! 
 How inviting and soft were the drifts down below ; 
 And the furious surges careering went by, 
 Obscuring the earth, and obscuring the sky. 
 No landmark to guide them, no succor is near, 
 To .call's worse than useless, there's no one to 
 hear !
 
 THE PITILESS SNOW. 129 
 
 Oh, how cold! oh, how tired! " Shall we sleep ?" 
 
 Oh, no, no ! 
 'T is death to lie down in the pitiless snow. 
 
 Oh, the snow, the cold driving snow ! 
 
 How it harrassed, and pelted, and tortured them, 
 
 Oh, 
 
 Great God ! to be lost in the terrible storm ! 
 What dread apprehension, what silent alarm 
 Stole mute o'er their hearts ! and they struggled 
 
 again. 
 Oh, wherefore ? they knew not ! they felt 't was 
 
 in vain ; 
 
 So tired, cold, and hopeless, and blinded, and so 
 Overwhelmed by the cruel and pitiless snow. 
 
 Oh, the snow, the wind -driven snow ! 
 How it stifled their breath in its fierce onward flow. 
 And so cold ! 't was so cold ! oh, how bitterly cold, 
 As it circled about them a life - chilling fold.
 
 130 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And they faltered and sank in the treacherous 
 drifts, 
 
 And the blast howls and moans, and the cruel 
 snow sifts 
 
 O'er their prostrated forms ; and soon lifeless be 
 low 
 
 They were hidden away in the pitiless snow. 
 
 Oh, the snow, the conquering snow ! 
 
 Their thoughts and their feelings we never may 
 
 know, 
 
 When, in the tornado, they yielded their breath 
 To the cold, cruel, white-winged Herald of Death. 
 Some died where their duties had called them to 
 
 roam, 
 Far away from their loved ones. Some perished 
 
 near home : 
 
 Near to it, yet found it not. Sorrowful ! Oh, 
 It was hidden from view by the pitiless snow.
 
 JOHN BARLEYCORN, THE HIGHWAYMAN. 
 
 Oh, how time speeds away ! 
 Why it seems but a day 
 Since that onslaught, so fearfully tragic : 
 
 I can 't make it appear 
 
 That almost a full year 
 Has vanished ; it seems so like magic/ 
 
 Since dread three - fingered Jack, 
 
 With Joaquin and his pack, 
 Gathered toll in our Western possessions ; 
 
 Or since gallant Duval, 
 
 Turpm, Sheppard, and all 
 Those old trumps of the "genteel professions"-
 
 132 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 There's been naught to compare 
 
 With the pad we have here ; 
 And when I relate you '11 believe me. 
 
 The great prince of them all, 
 
 Whether burly or tall, 
 Is the roadster of famed Lake Geneva. 
 
 'T was a dark silent night, 
 
 Not a star was in sight, 
 When a horseman came up on a canter : 
 
 He had been into town, 
 
 And was done rather " brown," 
 Bold and fearless as great Tarn O'Shanter. 
 
 On the lone sandy beach 
 
 There 's a desolate stretch, 
 Where the trees have all left on a " bender," 
 
 All save one grim old scrub, 
 
 A bleached, weather-worn stub, 
 Weird and scrawny as she of old Endor.
 
 JOHN BARLEYCORN. 133 
 
 He was Hearing this spot, 
 
 All his cares were forgot, 
 He was happy, gay, merry and cheerful, 
 . When there slipt from a niche 
 
 In this old wooden witch, 
 A something, which made him feel fearful. 
 
 A dread, ominous 
 
 With its face veil'd in crape, 
 It roared out, " Halt ! pungle ! 'no whining ! 
 
 If you speak, I '11 be sworn 
 
 You shall ne'er see the morn, 
 And the sun of your life shall cease shining." 
 
 Fitz Quinn, wishing for speed, 
 
 Put the spurs to his steed, 
 The threat of the robber not heeding, 
 
 When an arm like, a rail 
 
 Cleft the air like a flail, 
 And our hero lay senseless and bleeding.
 
 134 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Stepping up, cool and calm, 
 
 To the still prostrate form, 
 He quietly searched ev'ry pocket ; 
 
 Taking ev'rything out, 
 
 He arranged them about, 
 And thus entered all down in his docket : 
 
 " 1 old corkscr^fc, 3 quills, 
 2 small fractional bills, 
 1 jack -knife and 1 five -cent nickel, 
 
 1 stub five - cent cigar, 
 
 2 checks ' good at the bar,' 
 Some hair dye, 1 vinegar pickle." 
 
 Having made up his mind 
 
 'T was no very great find, 
 He hid in his roost near the waters, 
 
 Saying, " The poor devil 's slack, 
 
 So I put it all back ; 
 And the cash, I '11 get that at headquarters.
 
 JOHN BARLEYCORN. 135 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 All ye good men of Linn, 
 When perchance yon have been 
 
 To the flourishing town of Geneva, 
 Have an eye to the coast, 
 Shun the dread " robber's roost," 
 
 Lest the terrible inmate relieve ye. 
 
 In advice, I would say, 
 
 'Tis the much safer way 
 To come home in the light of the day, man. 
 
 Staying late, you may fall 
 
 'Neath the slung -shot or maul 
 Of John Barleycorn, the highwayman. 
 
 I have seen in my time 
 Men of every clime 
 Crawling 'round on all fours, like a cayman.
 
 136 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Why ? The reason was plain, 
 They had met, not in vain, 
 With John Barleycorn, the highwayman. 
 
 When at eve you begin, 
 That is, when you start in 
 To end up a glorious day, man, 
 Have a care, lest ere morn 
 
 You be gored 
 
 By the " horn" 
 
 Or be floored 
 
 By the " horn," 
 And your pockets completely explored 
 
 By the " horn" 
 
 And your cash from them borne, 
 You be left all forlorn, 
 All the rights of your manhood ignored 
 
 By the " horn," 
 
 With your face scratched and torn, 
 And your eyes left to mourn,
 
 JOHN BARLEYCORN. 137 
 
 By the magical, 
 
 Tragical, 
 
 Wonderful " horn," 
 Of this strange unicorn, 
 
 Famed, 
 
 And surnamed, 
 John Barleycorn, the highwayman.
 
 POP -CORN. 
 
 Who would write must have a theme. 
 
 These are plentiful as air, 
 
 And before us everywhere, 
 
 Like the current of a stream, 
 
 They are ever passing by. 
 
 Some address them to the ear ; 
 
 Others still attract the eye ; 
 
 And still others do appear 
 
 To us in a double sense, 
 
 Having double power to please, 
 
 And are favored subjects ; hence, 
 
 Erry scribbler writes of these. 
 
 Such the lily and the rose, 
 
 While the eye feasts on their bloom, 
 
 Lo, the unpoetic nose
 
 POP -CORN. 139 
 
 Drinks the sweets of their perfume. 
 So the birds with plumage bright 
 Other offerings can give, 
 Great as those which please the sight : 
 Song, which makes us glad they live. 
 Love and beauty, two in one. 
 Beauty caters to the eye 
 Till it has the heart undone, 
 Then tis love, and many a sigh 
 Tells the heart's sweet misery. 
 But I '11 none of these for me : 
 Of such things let others dream 
 Pop - corn be my bursting theme. 
 
 Flinty kernels hard as rice, 
 Live torpedoes ev'ry one, 
 O'er the fire and in a trice 
 The bombardment is begun. 
 Helter, skelter, rattle, bang ! 
 Hear the Lilliputian din !
 
 140 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Vegetable bombshells clang, 
 'Sploding 'gainst a roof of tin. 
 Now the volley, gaining power, 
 Crackles like a hailstone show&r 
 Pelting 'gainst a crystal tower, 
 Or the constant fusilade 
 Of the fire - cracker brigade 
 At the most expensive rate 
 On the day we celebrate. 
 Quickly the explosions cease, 
 Save a straggler now and then, 
 Till there comes a perfect peace, 
 And you raise the cover, when 
 Lo, before your favored sight, 
 Bloomed from out those flinty grains, 
 Blossoms of a faultless white 
 Heaped on high reward your pains. 
 Snow sinks back into the shade ; 
 Chalk and milk are down the grade ;
 
 POP - CORN. 
 
 Purest lime cannot compare 
 With the perfect whiteness there. 
 
 So it seems the little seeds, t 
 
 Brought in contact with the heat, 
 Strive to regulate their needs, 
 And to doff their coats complete 
 Waltz about in fitful whirls, 
 Swelled with misery and pain, 
 Till their coats are rent in twain, 
 And they bloom to starry pearls. 
 
 Should you wish to laud your love, 
 Step outside the beaten trail 
 Of comparisons now stale. 
 Toss your gauntlet from above, 
 Far beyond where all have stopt 
 Try to make it understood 
 That she 's beautiful and good, 
 And fair as corn that 's newly popt.
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 WRITTEN FOR THE CALMAR AMATEUR DRAMATIC CLUB, AND 
 
 SPOKEN ON THEIR OPENING NIGHT IN THE NEW HALL, 
 
 JANUARY, 1873. 
 
 Friends ! neighbors ! citizens ! good people all ! 
 We 're pleased to meet you in this spacious hall. 
 On you and us to-night devolves the part 
 To dedicate it to histr'onic art. 
 Yet think ! the artists are but amateurs, 
 Their powers of acting much akin to yours. 
 A fortnight's practice don't suffice, in truth 
 To make a Garrick of a country youth ; 
 Nor will a part rehearsed in some charade 
 Prepare a Siddons from a village maid. 
 We 're mere theatric tyros, and, as such, 
 We simply ask you '11 not expect too much. 
 For lack of skill, let this fact make amends, 
 The actors are your neighbors and your friends.
 
 PROLOGUE. 143 
 
 Our object if you have a care to know 
 In dramatizing for a local show, 
 Is to diversify our leisure hours, 
 And give an impulse to our dormant powers. 
 Nor this alone the end we have in view ! 
 Good people, we would also say to you, 
 Life is a task ! and in that task we should 
 Seize ev'ry passing chance of doing good. 
 He who can rob his neighbor unaware, 
 By filching from his breast a load of care, 
 He is a blessed thief, and in his case 
 The thief's a benefactor to his race. 
 And thinking thus, should we but so impart 
 Smiles to one cheek, or pleasure to one heart, 
 Then shall we gather hope to try again, 
 In feeling that our toil was not in vain. 
 
 Nor all as yet ! Another point is this 
 
 This newly -built substantial edifice 
 
 Wherein we 're met, sprung up before our eyes,
 
 144 FACTS AND FANCIES.- 
 
 The growth of individual enterprise. 
 Yet those who stood the brunt of building it, 
 They have conferred a public benefit. 
 The public sees ! the public has an ear ! 
 The public says, " Oh, would some chance appeal- 
 Where our appreciation might be shown ; 
 How freely, gladly, would we make it known." 
 We read these worthy longings in advance, 
 And seek to give the people all a chance. 
 
 We would the worthy men might gain renown 
 Who built this goodly structure in our town ; 
 And so they will ! who more renowned than they 
 Who leave such works along life's toilsome way ? 
 While Landin lives and Anderson survives 
 'T will be a noted milestone in their lives ; 
 And when they 've done with life, and sleep con 
 tent, 
 Long may it stand, a useful monument.
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND AND 
 TUTOR JAMES WALSH. 
 
 Death, when he plucks from out our very midst 
 One whom in early youth we looked upon 
 As being something greater than the rest, 
 The seeming acme of intelligence, 
 Who solved all knotty problems that arose 
 Too complicate for our young minds to grasp ; 
 And yet, as time rolled on, still kept his place, 
 The acknowledged leader ; foremost of the van 
 In all that looked to learning and to power 
 Of comprehension : Death, then, the leveler, 
 In laying low a being such as this, 
 Startles our senses, and our thoughts revert 
 Back to the past. What was he who is gone ? 
 What has he done, what suffered, what forborne ?
 
 J46 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 What were the leading features of his life ? 
 And what the acquisitions of his toil ? 
 Are questions that arise within the mind 
 Whene'er a friend is borne off to the tomb. 
 
 Here, then, a scholar has laid by his books/ 
 His globes and charts, his callipers and rules ; 
 And quit his studies at the call of Death. 
 No summons else could call his busy brain 
 Off from its wonted task. To contemplate 
 The starry heavens, and point out suns, 
 Systems, and constellations, and to fix 
 Their modes of revolution in his mind ; 
 Then fashion models, and with cunning skill, 
 Fix, gear, and on their axes nicely poise, 
 That their manipulations might express 
 The perfect movements of the real spheres ; 
 To demonstrate the theory of tides, 
 And the strange workings of the restless winds ; 
 To thread the mazy paths of Euclid's text ;
 
 DEATH OF A FRIEND AND TUTOR. 147 
 
 To ponder long with unabating zeal 
 O'er musty volumes of historic lore ; 
 This was his rest, his pastime, and his toil, 
 The Alpha and Omega of his joys. 
 
 He sought for learning but for learning's sake, 
 And the sweet satisfaction that the mind 
 Feels in the mastery of something great. 
 No golden visions lured him to the task ! 
 No dreams of fame, of favor, or of pow'r ; 
 But as the sportsmen hies him to the fields 
 With dog and gun, so turned he to his books 
 To seek the pleasure which his heart most craved. 
 
 It was his wont at times to gather 'round 
 His sometime pupils, and his youthful friends, 
 And chain them with the magic of his speech ; 
 The while relating, in deep dulcet tones, 
 Some quaint old legend, or some fairy tale, 
 Or some historic fact that marked perhaps,
 
 148 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 A distinct epoch in the world's career. 
 
 Perhaps 't was of the field of Waterloo; 
 
 Or of De Gama's early voyages ; 
 
 Or of the great exploits of Captain Cook ; 
 
 Or of the tricks of Sir John Mandeville 
 
 The early traveler, and the wond'rous tales 
 
 (Which were not facts) he told his British friends ; 
 
 Or of the fierce Pizarro in Peru ; 
 
 Or bloody Cortez in Old Mexico ; 
 
 And then, when he would cease, 't was whispered 
 
 "late," 
 For time had sped and had received no heed. 
 
 His sayings were pure logic gemmed with wit, 
 And brought from wisdom's deep, exhaustless 
 
 mine ; 
 
 And were they chronicled, how would they glow 
 Upon the tablet of futurity, 
 How earnestly and eloquently plead 
 With cold Oblivion to spare his name.
 
 DEATH OF A FRIEND AND TUTOR. 
 
 His course is ended ! In a few short years 
 But few will know that he has ever lived ! 
 The onslaughts of disease, the " whips and scorns," 
 " Chill penury," and " hope deferred" too oft, 
 Which he withstood, are known but to a few : 
 But they will cherish long his memory, 
 And cite again the tales he used to tell, 
 Till they, like him, are laid beneath the sod. 
 
 " Fond Nature's gifted child ! " he lies at peace, 
 
 Low in the grave, with his departed babes. 
 
 Oh ! may they lead him through the shad'wy vale 
 
 Into the presence of a loving God ! 
 
 There may he find a fairer home than earth, 
 
 A deeper sympathy than man can give.
 
 IN MEMORY OF JOHN HEYWOOD, 
 
 Who died on the shore of Geneva Lake, while bathiug, July 5>2, 1874. 
 
 We entertain an honest zeal 
 
 To offer tribute to the dead 
 
 Whom we have known, when we can feel 
 
 The simple truth needs but be said. 
 
 We 're called to mourn one who has stepped 
 Out from our midst when full of years 
 And simple honors strictly kept, 
 With ev ? ry trait that most endears. 
 
 An honest man, a genial friend, 
 
 A favorite with young and old, 
 
 In whom all virtues seemed to blend, 
 
 Like silver intermixed with gold. 
 
 150
 
 IN MEMORY OF JOHN HEY WOOD. 151 
 
 A inind well stored with past events, 
 Of many years the garnered truth, 
 And rich in startling precedents, 
 Made him an oracle to youth. 
 
 No flattery escaped his lips, 
 
 Though ever affable and kind : 
 
 His words, like hounds released from slips, 
 
 Sprang forth, but left no sting behind. 
 
 'T was acting out the " Golden Rule," 
 At least so all who knew him said, 
 That made him dear to all who knew 
 The good old man who now is dead. 
 
 I do not know of his belief, 
 
 I never heard him give it voice ; 
 
 But from his actions, judging brief, 
 
 It could not have been else than choice.
 
 152 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Who never wrongs his fellow -man, 
 Nor wounds, save when at duty's call, 
 He worships God as only can 
 Those who have charity for all. 
 
 The stickler after forms and creeds 
 May act by rote a chosen part, 
 But God makes judgment of our deeds 
 Done from the promptings of the heart. 
 
 Alone upon the pebbly strand, 
 Where rippling wavelets kissed e shore, 
 Death touched him with its icy hand ; 
 His spirit fled, he was no more. 
 
 The sky's expanse smiled overhead ; 
 About him, hill, and glen, and lake 
 Lay like a living -picture spread, 
 When thus the voice of Nature spake :
 
 IN MEMORY OF JOHN HEY WOOD. 153 
 
 " Come to thy God and take thy rest ! 
 Thy earthly pilgrimage is o'er : 
 Come, where no sorrow racks the breast, 
 And meet thy loved ones gone before."
 
 THE NATION'S REBUKE. 
 
 [At the Democratic National Convention, held in Baltimore, August, 
 1872. at which Hoi-ace Greeley received the nomination for President. 
 indorsing the action of the Cincinnati Convention, much dissatisfaction 
 was expressed by a certain class of the Democracy, and a bolt was at 
 once inaugurated. In this side issue it was decided to hold another con 
 vention, at Louisville, Kentucky. A Mr. Jackson, ot Massachusetts, then 
 arose and recommended that they introduce several new 'planks" into 
 the Louisville platform, among which were the following: "Resolved, 
 that the pension laws be so amended as to include the soldiers of the 
 late Southern Confederacy." 'Resolved, that the National Flag be so 
 changed as to be acceptable to all sections of our country."] 
 
 What ! change the Flag ? the Stars and Stripes 
 That floated o'er our freedom's birth, 
 And placed us 'mong the Powers of earth 
 One of the mightiest States that be ? 
 No ! curse the thought! and curst be he 
 Who would obscure a single star 
 Or introduce a foreign " bar" 
 Into the flag that made us free. 
 
 Thousands have spent their latest breath, 
 And struggled manfully with Death,
 
 THE NATION'S REBUKE. 
 
 To keep unsoiled the nation's trust ! 
 To let it tarnish in the dust 
 Were treason in the first degree. 
 
 Oh, ye who fell at Bunker Hill ! 
 And ye who bled on Yorktown plain ! 
 Ye, too, who perished on the main, 
 When death -bolts whistled wild and shrill ! 
 Shades of the heroes of Champlain ! 
 Have ye all fallen, and in vain ? 
 The flag ye battled to maintain, 
 Shall it be changed at treason's will ? 
 
 Oh, ye ! who in a later day 
 
 Have borne it through the gory flood, 
 
 When flecked with dying freemen's blood, 
 
 Spilt to uphold it in the fray 
 
 Which swept that cursed blot away ! 
 
 That inkv, ignominious stain ! 
 
 \j ' O 
 
 That child of greed ! that ghoul of gain,
 
 156 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Which yielded only woe and pain ! 
 Which only served as hellish food 
 To agitate this sisterhood 
 Of mighty States ! oh ye, I say 
 Who snapped the chain of slavery 
 And set the bonded millions free ! 
 What say ye ? shall this ever be ? 
 
 Who dare insult posterity 
 
 To even hint a mongrel flag ! 
 
 A treason - tainted scurvy rag, 
 
 That well might shame his progeny. 
 
 Far better hide his head and die, 
 
 Alone, in dim obscurity, 
 
 Than seek for notoriety 
 
 Thus steeped in deepest obloquy. 
 
 Three times ten million tongues proclaim 
 
 Throughout the land his sentence " Shame ! " 
 
 Grant universal amnesty ! 
 Graii.t all their equal liberty,
 
 THE NATION'S REBUKE. 157 
 
 With strictest impartiality ! 
 
 But pension rebel soldiery 
 
 Or change the flag ? It must not be ! 
 
 God grant the nation wisdom's pow'r, 
 To see aright this trying hour ! 
 And our next Ruler, grant that he 
 (Or Grant or Greeley) still may be 
 The people's choice ! God grant him skill 
 To make our nation prosper still.
 
 GREELEY IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Dead ! passed away ! gone from the stormy world 
 
 To the abode of rest ! Unmindful now, 
 
 The slumbering sage, of cruel taunts and jeers, 
 
 The darts of slander and malignity. 
 
 Low lies at peace, upon his mother's breast, 
 
 The mightiest captain of proud Freedom's host ! 
 
 The champion and exponent of truth ! 
 
 The great undaunted Hector of the pen ! 
 
 And who will mourn, and who deplore his loss ? 
 " Who ? " The world at large ! the rich, the poor, 
 The good, the truly great ! Unprejudiced, 
 The universal mind must needs be sad, 
 
 For he that 's passed away befriended all. 
 
 158
 
 GREELEY IN MEMORIAM. 159 
 
 Rear'd in chill penury, inured to toil, 
 
 Beset with care from early youth, who knew 
 
 Better than he the many tanglements 
 
 That block the poor man's path ? And who than he 
 
 Hath labored harder to assuage his ills ? 
 
 Forth from his ready pen streamed o'er the earth 
 
 A golden flood of wisdom : sparkling truths, 
 
 Deductions clear, and inferences apt 
 
 Their aim and end to benefit mankind. 
 
 If he hath ever err'd, (and who has not ?) 
 
 ( 
 'T was error of the judgment, for his heart 
 
 Was ever filled with honesty of purpose. 
 
 If Reason, urged by Conscience, whispered 
 
 " right," 
 
 Right manfully he 'd advocate her cause, 
 Though all the world beside might scoff and sneer. 
 His labor was to lessen human ills, 
 Abridge the poor man's toil, and to the weak 
 Extend a helping hand ; to make rough smooth,
 
 1(50 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And from the path of life pluck out the thorns 
 That tear the passing pilgrim's feet : to make 
 Existence an approach to happiness. 
 
 Go ask the ransom'd millions if to them, 
 
 From first to last, he hath not been a friend. 
 
 For three decades did he not tug, and wrench, 
 
 And hammer at their rusty manacles, 
 
 "Which yielded only to the sabre's stroke ? 
 
 Aye, true ! and now he 's gone, the scalding tears 
 
 Will freely course down many a dusky cheek, 
 
 And many a mother to her babe will say, 
 
 " The good man 's dead who worked so long and 
 
 hard 
 To make your father and your mother free." 
 
 After a long and glorious career, 
 An age of ard'ous toil and usefulness, 
 His life -sun sinking to the western line, 
 Ingratitude threw in his face her spleen ;
 
 GREELEY IN MEMORIAM. 161 
 
 And Death cold, cruel Death tore from his 
 
 heart 
 The faithful partner of his cares and joy. 
 
 His record stands a living pyramid ! 
 
 His mem'ry, like a spiritual sphynx, 
 
 Will smile forever from Duration's verge ! 
 
 And countless generations yet unborn 
 
 Shall trace his " footprints in the sands of time." 
 
 What said his worst maligners ? Even they 
 Speaking no good the truth did not enforce 
 Have said (sublime and fitting epitaph) 
 " He was (that precious thing, so seldom found, 
 
 God's perfect masterpiece,) an honest man." 
 
 
 
 Struggling obscured at tunes, at times all bright 
 With momentary luster, flashing 'tween 
 The stratum - clouds of poverty and toil, 
 The bright orb of his intellect arose, 
 
 161
 
 1(32 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Scaling the arch of life's eventful morn, 
 Then sailing grandly into manhood's day, 
 Reaching that zenith, the proud noon of life, 
 Electrified the world with glowing power. 
 Nor yet it faded, but, like summer's sun, 
 Grew more intense while sinking, till it fell 
 Behind a cloud, a dark foreboding cloud, 
 And sudden gloom fell o'er the closing day. 
 But, joy ! the burnished disk appeared beneath, 
 Then, nearing to the verge, gleamed out anew, 
 A last bright farewell flash, then disappeared 
 Behind the somber horizon of death.
 
 CHARLES SUMNER. 
 
 He 's dead, and yet he lives withal 
 Departed, yet he still remains ; 
 For in the nation's senate hall 
 The spirit of his presence reigns 
 Responsive still to Freedom's call. 
 Out from the past, memorial strains 
 Bear to the front his slogan still, 
 "Equality, Peace, and Good -will." 
 
 But chiefly in the people's hearts 
 He lives as ever, though unseen. 
 Fruits of his toil, those deathless parts, 
 The blessings of his having been, 
 Are staple wares in Freedom's marts ; 
 Adorning, like the ivy green,
 
 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 That monument of human clay, 
 The generations of to - day. 
 
 He was a bulwark of the free ! 
 
 The sweeping surge and howling storm 
 
 That 'seiged the port of Liberty 
 
 Beat savagely against his form. 
 
 The myrmidons of slavery 
 
 Made fearful threats of coming harm, 
 
 But yet he walked his sentry still, 
 
 And parried with a conq'ring will. 
 
 The storm was past, the struggle o'er 
 The glorious victory was won. 
 Where ruled the starry flag, no more 
 A bondsman breathed beneath the sun. 
 And yet upon Columbia's shore 
 He thought his labors not yet done, 
 But " civil rights " would fill his plan 
 For the true Brotherhood of Man,
 
 CHARLES SUMMER. 165 
 
 What aim has life that 's more sublime 
 Than that to benefit mankind ? 
 What may induce remorseless Time 
 To spare the name one leaves behind ? 
 If that a nation's prayer shall find 
 Acceptance at the Throne Divine, 
 Then, Sumner, thine shall ever be 
 A watchword to posterity.
 
 THE SEASONS. 
 
 , SPRING. 
 
 Bright, joyous Spring ! season of life and growth! 
 
 Before thy sunny glance the icy chains 
 
 With which grim Winter bound this mighty zone 
 
 Are all dissolved to rills of trickling tears, 
 
 And these absorbed to feed the swelling germs 
 
 That patient lie in the broad lap of earth 
 
 To quicken into life at thy approach. 
 
 The springing grass puts forth in tender shoots 
 Its countless bristling blades of living green, 
 Which lengthening droop, and with the early 
 
 flowers, 
 
 (Bright figured filling for the verdant warp,) 
 Weave the sweet carpet that adorns the fields. 
 
 1 66
 
 THE SEASONS. 167 
 
 All now is change ! the branches of the trees, 
 
 That all the winter long were bleak and bare, 
 
 Or clad ia ice, and creaking in the gale 
 
 A weird, mysterious soliloquy 
 
 Clanking their crystal fetters in complaint 
 
 Now bud to leafy wands, that nod and sway 
 
 In meek obeisance to the passing breeze. 
 
 All Nature's tiny workers are astir, 
 And, waking from that slumber, almost death, 
 Gaze 'round awhile in silent wonderment, 
 Then earnestly address themselves to toil. 
 The dormant ant, roused from his lethargy, 
 Crawls upward from his subterranean cell, 
 And from the summit of his convex mound 
 Drinks the inspiring vigor of the sun, 
 Then calls a council of his sleepy mates 
 To view the ruin which the storms have wrought 
 While all unconscious they have slept below. 
 (The winds have razed the outer battlements,
 
 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And scattered debris through the avenues ; 
 The pelting rains have harrowed up the paths, 
 And choked the entrance to the upper vaults ; 
 While the dread frost, in cold malignity, 
 Has heaved the deep foundation of their home, 
 And cracked the superstructure from its base.) 
 And swarming forth, the little artisans 
 Commence their labors on the vast repairs. 
 
 The feathered choristers have all returned, 
 
 And when the morning lisrht first streaks the 
 
 O O 
 
 dawn, 
 
 The modest robin pipes his cheery notes, 
 Nor quits his tuneful task until the sun 
 Swings his full circle o'er the eastern bar. 
 The lark, with merry twitter, skims the sward \ 
 And the trim, dainty thrush, from lofty perch, 
 Straining his speckled throat from very joy, 
 Pours out upon the breeze a flood of song.
 
 THE SEASONS. 169 
 
 Dense clouds of blackbirds swarm from tree to tree, 
 And hold their noisy concerts as they list, 
 Sparring and cooing in their changeful moods, 
 And wooing partners for the perfect life. 
 While on some sunny morn the sleeping swain 
 Dreams of clear streamlets rippling o'er the rocks, 
 And wakes to hear what oft he 's heard before 
 The gladsome babble of the martins sleek 
 From the old cot ? neath the projecting eaves. 
 
 All hail thee, Spring ! thou great replenisher, 
 That clothes the tattered earth in virgin robes, 
 And fills the air with sweet harmonious sounds ! 
 That decks the hillsides with fair living gems, 
 And scatters beauty broadcast o'er the land ! 
 That fills the soul of youth with lofty hopes, 
 And makes him conscious of progressive power ! 
 That whispers manhood : " Still the world moves 
 
 on, 
 Arid wherefore shouldst thou linger by the way ? "
 
 170 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Fair Summer, like a prince in flowing robes, 
 Sits now in state upon the throne of Time ; 
 While Peace and Plenty, twin prime - ministers, 
 Exert for lasting good their heaven-sent powers, 
 And show'r their blessings with a willing hand. 
 Contentment, too, in calm serenity, 
 Dwells on the landscape like a quiet smile, 
 And the world moves toward perpetual day. 
 
 All nature is prolific loveliness ! 
 
 The full -leaved trees have hid from sight their 
 
 boughs ; 
 
 And on their naked trunks poise in the air, 
 Green, shapely stacks of loosely pendent leaves, 
 Beneath whose grateful shade birds build their 
 
 nests, 
 Carol their songs, and rear in peace their young.
 
 THE SEASONS. 171 
 
 Upon the fields the season's crop still stands ! 
 As yet no gap of sickle r of scythe 
 Has scarred the full completeness of the scene. 
 The grassy meads flash brightly in the sun, 
 And o'er the fields the thrifty, rustling corn 
 Flaunts its green ribbons in the gentle breeze ; 
 While the great seas of verdant cereals 
 Roll into gentle swells beneath its touch. 
 
 Grand perfect Summer ! fullness of the year ! 
 Time's brightest picture of productiveness ! 
 Frost nor maturity has come as yet, 
 And still awhile the harvest is delayed. 
 
 The cock's shrill call proclaims the faintest dawn, 
 
 Then twilight's mellow margin follows on, 
 
 Then a red rim along the eastern sky, 
 
 Melting in turn as now the rising sun 
 
 Ushers full-blown the radiant summer's morn. 
 
 Bird - songs and tinkling bells delight the ear,
 
 172 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And nature's freshness after night's repose 
 Is grateful to the eye ; each several sense 
 Discovers each a charm, and these all blend 
 To form a pleasing and harmonious whole. 
 
 Early to feed, the eager, greedy herds 
 Crop the sweet grass, now succulent with dew, 
 Till hunger is appeased, then roam at large, 
 Searching the pastures for a dainty bite, 
 Until oppressed with day's increasing heat 
 They seek the shadows of the leafy groves, 
 And lie them down, with sighs of deep content. 
 
 Upon the glowing earth the blazing sun 
 
 In rank profusion pours his steady rays, 
 
 Till all the air with heat is tremulous, 
 
 And radiating upward to the skies. 
 
 The birds have sought the shade, and quit their 
 
 songs, 
 And folded for a time their wings in rest ;
 
 THE SEASONS. 173 
 
 All save the prowling kite ; with pinions spread 
 And downcast eyes, he grandly soars aloft 
 In the blue ether of the cloudless sky, 
 Extending still the circle of his flight, 
 Scanning with eager gaze the earth beneath, 
 Until he sights the victim of his search, 
 Then partly folds his wings and, like a bolt, 
 Swoops down upon his unsuspecting prey, 
 And bears it to the eyrie of his young. 
 
 The growing shadows eastward slowly creep, 
 
 As sinks the sun upon the western sky, 
 
 And settling out of sight throws back his beams, 
 
 Marking far up the arch his crimson wake, 
 
 Which spreading, slowly fades, and twilight ebbs 
 
 Far out into the open sea of night, 
 
 Where darkness spread upon the rising tide, 
 
 Steals o'er the earth on its returning flow, 
 
 And brings to end our typic summer's day.
 
 174 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Rich, dreamy, mellow Autumn ! Nature droops ! 
 
 Her glory is attained ! and Sadness now 
 
 Floats like a spirit in the hazy air. 
 
 The birds have flown, or silent hang their heads 
 
 As though in sorrow. From the orchard twigs 
 
 The glowing fruit hangs pendant, or is moved 
 
 To oscillation by the sluggish wind. 
 
 Now and anon, at little intervals 
 
 Incapable the longer to resist 
 
 Earth's universal and unchanging law 
 
 Some yielding pippin severs from its stem 
 
 And falls submissive to the withered sward ; 
 
 Suggesting the effect of a like cause 
 
 Which plunged the mighty Newton into thought. 
 
 On the far sloping hills, in courtly robes 
 Of variegated hue crimson and gold,
 
 THE SEASONS. 175 
 
 Purple, and all the shades that tint the bow 
 Serenely proud, -the forest beauties stand, 
 Tall tapering cones of fading foliage, 
 Glowing resplendent 'neath the blushing sun ; 
 While yet beneath, of various dyes and grades, 
 The smaller trees and shrubs fill up a scene 
 Of sweet harmonious contrast. Yet 't is sad, 
 And sadness clings to ev'ry tinted leaf 
 And murmurs softly in the passing breeze. 
 
 'T is but the passing beauty of a day ! 
 
 The flush of dissolution on the cheek 
 
 Of the declining year ! and even now 
 
 By ev'ry idle puff of wanton wind 
 
 Some leaflet is detached, and wav'ring sinks 
 
 Reluctant, zigzag, to receiving earth. 
 
 And still, not lonely long ! the first rude blast 
 
 Shall shower their fellows like the falling snow; 
 
 And leave the boughs and branches stark and bare 
 
 To scourge the moaning winds that left them so.
 
 176 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Earth gave the infant Year his spring-time grace, 
 Clothed him in green and decked his brow with 
 
 flowers ; 
 
 He throve in beauty, and the Summer came, 
 And with it strength and vigor ; and a charm 
 Of thoughtful and expressive tenderness 
 Rested on all beneath the deep blue sky. 
 
 Now golden Autumn holds his dreamy sway, 
 
 And ripe maturity is on the wane ; 
 
 While earth calls on the Year to render back 
 
 His worn and faded garb. Thus piece by piece 
 
 The whole is given back. Old and bereft 
 
 (While desolating Winter comes apace) 
 
 The beggared Year sinks into apathy, 
 
 And the fierce frost shall lock his feeble pulse, 
 
 The virgin snow shall be his winding- sheet ; 
 
 The bleak, chill winds shall chant his ftm'ral dirgo, 
 
 And " Father Time " entomb him in the past.
 
 THE SEASONS. 177 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Winter lias come ! the boist'rous winds proclaim 
 His stormy rule o'er forest, field and glen, 
 And bear his chilling mandates on their wings. 
 The earth is naked, and the leafless twigs 
 Hint at the desolation after death ; 
 While the great forest, swaying in the blast, 
 And tossing wild its branches to the clouds, 
 Sings a sad requiem to the passing gale. 
 
 The crested clouds, urged by the chasing winds, 
 In ragged troops career along the sky, 
 Like ghostly coursers rushing on to charge 
 The somber phalanx near the horizon ; 
 While the retiring sun, far to the south, 
 Marks the diminished arch which spans the daj r , 
 And throws his slanting beams along the earth 
 
 In scanty numbers and devoid of warmth. 
 12
 
 178 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 The brook is dumb beneath its icy shroud, 
 Or only murmurs in an undertone 
 Plaintive remonstrance 'gainst the cruel power 
 Which veils it thus, in solitude and gloom, 
 To grope in darkness on its winding course. 
 
 Upon the tranquil surface of the lake, 
 
 While yet it slept in peaceful quietude, 
 
 The frost -king smote with his congealing wand, 
 
 And lo ! a polished plain, where school-boys glide 
 
 And wheel in wild gyrations to and fro, 
 
 Scrolling the glassy surface of the deep, 
 
 Firm shod on furrowed plates of polished steel. 
 
 And now a change ! the sky is overcast, 
 And from its leaden vault, each chasing each, 
 Descend the filmy particles of snow. 
 Faster and thicker still they tumble down, 
 Veering in spiral course and eddying,
 
 THE SEASONS. 179 
 
 Till all the air is white with gauzy flakes, 
 Whirling, commingling, sinking to the earth. 
 
 The clouds dispel ! the sun glints forth again 
 To greet the world arrayed in spotless white. 
 The winds are muffled, and a peaceful calm 
 Has settled over all ; while here and there, 
 Rising unbroken far into the sky, 
 Blue shafts of smoke, in graceful symmetry, 
 Point the location of the homes beneath. 
 
 The frolic -loving young folk are astir," 1 
 Mittened and muffled, waiting for the sleigh ; 
 And soon the air vibrates from tuneful bells, 
 As mettled coursers dash along the way 
 Responsive to the driver's word of cheer. 
 
 Forth launching in the downy element, 
 With mincing step and ankle -scraping gait,
 
 180 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 The sturdy urchin plows his way from school, 
 Stopping anon, perhaps to trace his name 
 In monstrous capitals beside his path, 
 Or cast himself full length upon his face, 
 To take his impress in the yielding drift. 
 
 The chill and silent night steals on apace, 
 And from the cold blue sky the myriad stars 
 Look calmly down upon the shrouded earth, 
 And tip with light the crystallated snow. 
 Along the northern border of the night 
 Flash up the footlights of the arctic stage ; 
 While just beyond, extended from the spheres, 
 With center looped into the Galaxy, 
 Aurora's ruffled curtain hangs in view.
 
 POEMS 
 
 THE FAR-WEST. 
 
 (181)
 
 THE LITTLE LONE GRAVE ON THE 
 PLAINS. 
 
 Two days had the train been waiting, 
 Laid off from the forward tramp, 
 When the sick child drooped 
 And died, and they scooped 
 Out a little grave near camp. 
 
 Then clad in its scanty garments, 
 And wrapped in a threadbare shawl, 
 
 They laid it away 
 
 From the light of day, 
 Amid tears and sobs from all. 
 
 Then silently covered it over, 
 And heaped up the sandy ground,
 
 184 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And gathered a pile 
 Of small stones meanwhile, 
 And placed o'er the little mound. 
 
 God pity the poor young mother, 
 For her heart is wrung full sore, 
 
 And the fresh tears start 
 
 As she turns to part 
 From the grave forevermore. 
 
 Bereft of her heart's young idol, 
 And robbed of a mother's joy, 
 
 How could she but grieve 
 
 Forever to leave 
 The grave of her darling boy ? 
 
 O, it was bleak and so lonely ! 
 O, it was sad and so drear ! 
 Must her loved one sleep
 
 THE LITTLE LONE GRA VE. 185 
 
 There, where none could keep 
 A friendly vigil near ? 
 
 Outside of civilization, 
 Far from the abodes of men, 
 
 Where the cactus blows 
 
 And the wild sage grows, 
 In the haunts of the wild sage - hen. 
 
 No tree in range of the vision, 
 No beautiful flowers bloom, 
 
 But a waste of sand, 
 
 In a desert land, 
 Surrounds the little tomb. 
 
 No birds are there to warble, 
 No sounds on the breezes float, 
 
 Save the vulture's " caw," 
 
 Full of dismal awe, 
 And the howl of the grey coyote.
 
 WESTWARD. 
 
 " Westward the course of empire takes its way ;" 
 Prophetic speech burst from a soul inspired ! 
 Berkeley, thy words a thousand times each day 
 Are spoke by Freedom's sons whom hope has fired 
 To deeds of energy, and these toil on 
 With hopeful hearts toward the setting sun. 
 
 You ask, " What seek they in the Occident 9 
 Why left they homes toward the Orient ? 
 Why quit they social ties and smiling friends 
 To roam where stern Privation's self attends ? 
 What is it Hope hath whispered they shall find 
 Dearer than that which they have left behind ? " 
 
 Undying Hope, the antidote for care, 
 The mortal enemy of cold Despair, 
 
 186
 
 WESTWARD. 187 
 
 Speaks, and her glowing words are thus expressed : 
 " The Star of Empire glimmers in the West ! 
 Go. earnest toilers ! though your work be hard, 
 The gen'rous soil shall yield you rich reward." 
 
 They seek for homes not such in name alone 
 But homes indeed that they may call their own ; 
 A spot to build, and plant the tree and vine, 
 And when 't is done, to ponder, " This is mine I 
 These loamy acres, like the rolling sea, 
 Shall yield their bounteous stores to mine and me." 
 
 Though their abodes may be uncouth and rude, 
 And hid, perhaps, in Nature's solitude, 
 Time kindly tempers them unto their lot ; 
 Love throws a halo round the sacred spot ; 
 Peace and contentment fill their calm retreat, 
 And health and vigor make existence sweet. 
 
 These are the nation's benefactors ; these 
 From earth's four quarters crossing stormy seas
 
 188 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Receive the nation's welcome and her soil. 
 Ye rugged sons of honorable toil, 
 Your horny hands have left a grand impress 
 Of blooming fields far in the wilderness. 
 
 Your fields of maize and rank cereals grow 
 Where roam the elk and shaggy buffalo ; 
 Where looks the red man on, in mute dismay, 
 To see his latest foothold swept away ; 
 Aye, swept away ! by Nature's stern decree, 
 The march of empire and of energy. 
 
 O, ye who canker in ignoble ease, 
 The victims of luxur'ance and disease, 
 Who daily grumble out your worthless lives, 
 Take heed of how the border farmer thrives ; 
 
 * 
 
 He earns his bread, and smothers discontent 
 In waging war on ev'rv element.
 
 SUNRISE IN THE SIERRAS. 
 
 Swiftly the rising sun dispels 
 
 The ling'ring shades that haunt the dells, 
 
 And chasms where darkness thickest dwells 
 
 When Sol's away, 
 
 Now catch his myriad golden threads, 
 Unravelled into sunny shreds ; 
 While Darkness westward silent treads 
 
 His somber way. 
 
 Down mountain - gorge and rocky steep 
 The hunted shadows silent creep, 
 Or huddling like a flock of sheep 
 
 In mute dismay, 
 
 They turn and scud in hasty flight, 
 And dodge aud duck before the light,
 
 190 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 As upward sailing comes in sight 
 The orb of day. 
 
 Fair scene of beauty ! wild and grand 
 As e'er the bow of heaven hath span'd, 
 Or Nature with her magic wand 
 
 Called into life ; 
 Or ever on the face of day, 
 From frozen Greenland to Cathay, 
 The sun hath limned with glowing ray 
 
 In wonders rife. 
 
 From fountains in the terraced hills 
 The liquid crystal murm'ring trills, 
 Then gathering into tiny rills 
 
 They glide away ; 
 
 Down streaming o'er their rocky beds, 
 They break and chafe to foamy shreds ; 
 Then o'er the brink down widening spreads 
 
 A veil of spray.
 
 SUNRISE IN THE SIERRAS. 191 
 
 The tow'ring pines, whose leafy boughs 
 Made pendant by the clinging snows 
 Where napping "Winter found repose, 
 
 Now seem to be 
 
 Tall leafy towers of living green, 
 With tent - topped fir - trees thrown between,. 
 Each blazoned in the morning sheen 
 
 A canopy. 
 
 Wild beetling crags, and frowning rocks, 
 And fissures, where volcanic shocks 
 Have cleft in twain the pond'rous blocks 
 
 Of earth and stone ; 
 There crimson manzinetas dwell, 
 And clumps of twisted chaparral 
 Cling, and the scar of Nature's spell 
 
 Is overgrown. 
 
 Far distant gleam the rocky walls 
 Of many - gabled citadels ;
 
 192 FACTS AJVD FANCIES. 
 
 Sun -gilded into burnished halls, 
 
 They flash the light 
 From spurs of crystal, flint and spar, 
 And spangled mica, sparkling far 
 Like beads of sweat from cinnabar 
 
 Brought out to sight. 
 
 Far up the mountain's granite face, 
 The farthest spruce - tree quits the race, 
 A stunted victim of the chase ; 
 While wait below 
 
 r i 
 
 Like members of a scattered host, 
 Whose chief betrayed, whose captain lost,- 
 Its straggling comrades at their post 
 To brave the foe.
 
 THE MINER'S BURIAL. 
 
 White Pine, Nevada, 1869. 
 
 Par up the mountain's craggy side, 
 Upon a rudely -fashioned bier, 
 They bore him out from where he died 
 (His cabin near the rocky slide,) 
 With scarce a word, without a tear. 
 
 They hollowed out a fitting grave, 
 Close by the summit's granite rim, 
 Then gathered 'round and sung a hymn, 
 And placed him in the narrow cave. 
 " To ashes, ashes ; dust to dust ;" 
 Thus was performed the sacred trust 
 That man assumes upon his birth, 
 To give the dead again to earth. 
 
 Up to his tomb will clamber still 
 The sounds he was so used to hear,
 
 194 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 The music of the gad and drill 
 Beneath the hammer, sharp and clear ; 
 The deep -toned thunder of the blast 
 A tidal wave of echo cast 
 Off from the mountain's rocky crest, 
 Shall bear his spirit off to rest. 
 
 There in his lofty sepulcher, 
 
 A league above the distant plain, 
 
 His ashes sleep the final sleep : 
 
 And passing clouds which floating skirr 
 
 Across the vast aerial deep, 
 
 In shapes of rugged majesty, 
 
 Oft kiss his tomb in passing by. 
 
 Or, when a calm is in the air, 
 
 Like snowy galleons at rest, 
 
 They peaceful lie at anchor there, 
 
 To shut the lower world from view, 
 
 And point aloft to heaven's deep blue, 
 
 The promised haven of the blest.
 
 THE MIRAGE. 
 
 Upon a parched and arid waste, 
 Beneath the scorching summer sun, 
 Where nimble swifts each other chased 
 O'er gaping fissures, checked to run 
 Their countless millions meshy lines 
 In tangents, angles, arcs and sines, 
 A field where Science, urged by Art, 
 With Nature for a counterpart, 
 Might with her pencil sketch and pore 
 O'er varied shapes forevermore, 
 The weary trav'lers struggled on 
 Across that stretching sea of sand, 
 A famishing and thirsty band. 
 A land of streamlets to have won 
 Had been to them a paradise : 
 
 '95
 
 196 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 When, lo ! ahead there seemed to rise, 
 
 Along the distant horizon, 
 
 A scene of sylvan loveliness, 
 
 To greet them in their sore distress ; 
 
 A scene where winding rivulets, 
 
 All fringed with branching, shady trees, 
 
 Coursed smoothly o'er their sandy beds, 
 
 And glimmered far, like silv'ry threads ; 
 
 Where fountains, with a thousand jets, 
 
 Flung out their crystal tapestries, 
 
 To form in many a glassy pool 
 
 In shady nooks, serene and cool. 
 
 And then a change, and lo ! a lake, 
 All dotted o'er with verdant isles, 
 Before the vision peaceful smiles ; 
 And not a ripple seems to break 
 The mirrored surface of its deep, 
 While somber shadows o'er it creep,
 
 THE All RAGE. 197 
 
 Like spiritual argosies 
 
 Borne by an imperceptive breeze. 
 
 Upon the isles, that gently swell 
 
 Up from the water's curving line, * 
 
 Gleams many an airy citadel, 
 
 Where princes might in splendor dwell, 
 
 Or poets woo the mystic Nine. 
 
 Tall trees and clumps of shrubbery, 
 
 Supporting many a clinging vine 
 
 That hangs in rich festoonery, 
 
 Thus forming bowers where might recline 
 
 The Beauties of Mythology, 
 
 In keeping with their high degree. 
 
 Fresh as the breath of early Spring, 
 Seductive as the siren's song, 
 The panorama moves along. 
 The wand of magic seems to fling
 
 198 FACTS AND FANCIES, 
 
 Its mystic beauties o'er the scene. 
 Oh, why must space still intervene ? 
 
 Deceptive picture ! pure and chaste 
 Damascus of the western waste ! 
 
 Where ah ! it fades ! it melts away ! 
 
 Far o'er the desert, grim and gray, 
 
 Along the hazy horizon, 
 
 Tall mammoth shapes stalk stately on 
 
 Across the visionary range 
 
 And disappear ; and then, more strange, 
 
 A band of mounted harlequins 
 
 In madcap antics scour the plain. 
 
 You look to see them once again, 
 
 But no ! they 're gone. No object wins 
 
 The searching eye ; all 's blank and. bare 
 
 No hint of beauty lingers where 
 
 The Mirage spread her canopy 
 
 And moved the soul to ecstacy.
 
 MUSING. 
 
 Standing one day upon the mountain side, 
 Musing with folded arms on nature's plan, 
 My vision swept the landscape, far and wide, 
 In quest of something to compare with man, 
 Some natural object, that I might compare 
 In some one attribute to man's estate, 
 That seemed some common good or ill to share, 
 Or was made kindred by some common fate. 
 
 Far to the left there stretched a sterile plain, 
 Bounded by barren mountains grim and gray, 
 A scene where Desolation seemed to reign 
 And Solitude chased ev'ry joy away. 
 'T was like the heart whose ev'ry hope is dead, 
 
 To which a moment's gladness is unknown, 
 
 (199)
 
 200 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 The weary soul whence joy and peace have fled, 
 Sinking in death uncared for and alone. 
 
 Still to the right, far up from where I stood, 
 The terraced hills rose o'er each other high, 
 Till crowning all, the antipode of flood, 
 Was one vast peak whose summit pierced the sky. 
 Like some proud autocrat this mountain seemed, 
 Whom straggling chance had placed beyond the 
 
 rest, 
 
 To keep aloof, a glorious charter deemed, 
 Frowning on all below with haughty crest. 
 
 Before me lay a hilly, wooded tract, 
 A mighty forest, stretching far away, 
 Of fir and cedar, pine and tamarack ; 
 A goodly host of trees in strange array : 
 Some stood in clumps, compact communities, 
 With still a few among them that did vie 
 In rivalry ; while overtopped by these 
 Were the great masses, doomed to be less high.
 
 MUSING. 201 
 
 Some stood apart and grew in solitude, 
 
 And these were deeply rooted in the soil, 
 
 With twisted trunks, and branches gnarled and 
 
 rude 
 
 From many jostlings in the savage coil 
 Of chafing storms, which often and again 
 Rock the whole forest in their surging wrath, 
 Sweep down the slopes and scour the level 
 
 plain, 
 To spread destruction in their luckless path. 
 
 The most were of a lively verdant hue, 
 A few were withered by the light'ning's stroke, 
 And some were slowly dying as they grew. 
 Some were bare poles from which the tops were 
 
 broke, 
 
 Still more were dead and leafless at the top. 
 Some leaned upon their neighbors for support, 
 While others still seemed hunting for a prop ; 
 Some near the middle had been broken short.
 
 202 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Some had been stript of bark, and branch, and leaf, 
 And stood like tow'ring specters, bleached and 
 
 white. 
 
 Some, once environed in a flaming sheath, 
 Were left grim columns, blacker than the night. 
 Hale, and diseased, the dying and the dead, 
 For which each passing breeze sends forth a call 
 Which is obeyed : before its unseen tread 
 Some yield their place and totter to their fall. 
 
 Prone stretched in all the stages of decay, 
 Laid low by time and tempest, now repose 
 The prostrate giants of a bygone day, 
 That one time waved their verdant boughs like 
 
 those 
 
 That now o'ershadow them ; but now they lie 
 And crumble back to earth which gave them 
 
 growth. 
 
 Epitome of mutability ! 
 Nature is change ! mortality is both !
 
 A RIDE DOWN A FLUME. 
 
 O, a sleigh -ride is fine on a clear moon -lit night, 
 When the steam - breathing coursers speed on like 
 
 the wind, 
 
 While the varying creak of their footsteps in flight, 
 And the clear tinkling bells, leave sweet echoes 
 
 behind. 
 But the principal charm of this much - talked - of 
 
 ride 
 
 Is the fair blusing damsel so close to one's side. 
 And, until one can rise like a kite to the moon. 
 The king of all rides is a skim down a flume. 
 
 It 's a something we like to be borne by the gale 
 O'er the wild heaving billows that greet us in 
 
 spray, 
 
 203
 
 204 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 When the masts sway and bend, and the taut, well- 
 filled sail 
 
 Still seems straining to haste us yet faster away. 
 
 The strange pleasure of this I '11 not try to ex 
 plain, 
 
 Because many have taken a trip o'er the main ; 
 
 But I '11 say (as I 've told you before, I presume,) 
 
 There 's no journey so grand as a ride down a 
 flume. 
 
 The black iron monster, which sprung like a dream 
 From the brain of great Stephenson, bears us 
 
 along, 
 
 With a clatter of wheels and a hissing of steam, 
 At a rate that deserves to be mentioned in song. 
 Then, too, there's the true '-Yankee notion" of 
 
 fun, 
 
 The sweet tempting morsel of risk to be run. 
 But even in this, I shall dare to assume 
 The advantage is still on the side of the flume
 
 A RIDE DOWN A FLUME. 205 
 
 I have skimmed o'er the plain on the true-mettled 
 
 steed, 
 
 And a wild inspiration has thrilled ev'iy nerve, 
 While testing the antelope's marvelous speed, 
 Or shying the buffalo into a curve 
 When the spirit 's exultant and buoyant as air, 
 And nothing is felt of the burden of care, 
 Wild, reckless bewilderment ! But, to resume, 
 Even this falls far short of a ride down a flume. 
 
 Then in snow - time there 's coasting, when young 
 people go 
 
 With their trim little sleighs to the top of some 
 hill, 
 
 And each pert, dainty miss, with her gallant young 
 beau, 
 
 Make a cargo of happiness nothing can chill. 
 
 Then they glide down the incline ; behold far be 
 low, 
 
 Some are buried from sight in a drift of soft snow,
 
 206 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Then arising like ghosts from the grave fresh ex 
 humed. 
 
 O, 'tis sport to be " chuted," but more to be 
 " flumed." 
 
 I have tried nearly all locomotion afloat, 
 Swimming, rafting, and washtubing, driving the 
 
 log; 
 And on land, slurring, snow-shoeing, " riding the 
 
 goat," 
 
 Which last, by the way, is a little incog. 
 I have rode on a shovel down mountains of snow, 
 And been borne like a straw on the wings of a 
 
 " blow," 
 
 Still would I assert, from the edge of the tomb, 
 That there 's nothing like glancing along in a 
 
 flume. 
 
 " And what is a flume?" I hear somebody say. 
 " And how do you navigate ? what makes it go ?
 
 A RIDE DOWN A FLUME. 20 T 
 
 Has it wings, wheels or rollers, or runners ? what 
 
 way 
 
 Does it operate best ? on bare ground or on snow? 
 Does it run best in calm weather or in a breeze ? 
 If you know aught about it just tell if you please. 
 Or at least, let 's have silence and less of that fume 
 You 've been puffing about of your wonderful 
 
 flume." 
 
 In the far-off Sierras, from valleys below, 
 Winding upward and onward in serpentine course, 
 Creeping up the tall mountains where giant pines 
 
 grow, 
 And clear streamlets murmur, now silv'ry now 
 
 hoarse, 
 
 As they tumble in cascades or dash into spray, 
 In their joyous career down the steep rocky way, 
 Are continuous troughs, which the sunbeams 
 
 illume 
 Like a bright scaly serpent : and this is a flume.
 
 208 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 These were not built for pleasuring, as you should 
 know, 
 
 (And the timid ones seldom take passage that way) 
 
 But to carry down wood to the mines of Washoe. 
 
 First, the streamlets are gathered and brought 
 into play, 
 
 And they shoot down the boxes, a thread of white 
 foam, 
 
 Bearing downward the wood from its grand moun 
 tain home. 
 
 Now be on the alert ; watch your chance ; very 
 soon, 
 
 If you mind " Number One," you can ride in a 
 flume. 
 
 There's a snug little "jam" coming glimmering 
 
 down ; 
 
 Now, leap on like a frog, .and away, and away 
 Like a patch of pale moonlight when chased by. 
 
 the frown
 
 A RIDE DOWN A FLUME. 209 
 
 Of the swift - footed shadows. A halo of spray 
 Marks your course down the mountains, o'er gulch 
 
 and ravine ; 
 
 While jets of pure crystal start out, and careen 
 Into fantastic shapes ; and small rainbows illume 
 Your wild, mystical flight down the steep winding 
 
 flume. 
 
 O, the wild exultation ! the maddening joy ! 
 Like an arrow you speed from the sinew -bound 
 
 bow ; 
 From the pine -covered mountains your odd little 
 
 hoy 
 
 Gleams along like a flash to the valley below. 
 The mountains dance hornpipes, and trees fade 
 
 away 
 
 To a maze of bewilderment. Till your last day 
 Should } r ou out -age Methuselah, still I '11 assume 
 You will never forget 3>mir first ride in a flume. 
 
 14
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT ROSE, NEVADA. 
 
 JULY 4, 1864. 
 
 The sun peeped brightly o'er the bar 
 Of rugged mountains, brown and bare, 
 That stand a frowning barrier, 
 And seem to guard with sullen care 
 The treasure that lies buried there. 
 There Comstock spied the cropping lode- 
 A gold and silver spangled wall ; 
 There Mammon's mythical abode 
 Had slowly crumbled to its fall. 
 There now the echoes leap and bound, 
 And dance among the beetling crags, 
 From rumbling blasts far under ground, 
 Where labor's din stops not nor flags ; 
 But night arid day goes ceaseless on
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT ROSE. 211 
 
 The delving in the gloomy mine ; 
 For when one toiling gang has done, 
 Another, forming into line, 
 Takes up the shovel and the pick, 
 The sledge, the gad, and ringing drill, 
 And, lit by tallow tapers thick, 
 Pursue their labors with a will. 
 Thus, in the mountain's bosom deep, 
 One crew is in the shaft or drift 
 While one is wrapped in blissful sleep, 
 And one, the next on-coming " shift," 
 Is stirring 'round to take the air, 
 Or sauntering about the town, 
 Or making ready to repair 
 Back to their eight hours' labor down. 
 There all the air with motion trills 
 From dumping -cars, whose stony hail, 
 From lofty trestles darting, spills 
 Against the ore -house iron mail. 
 There ceaseless clang a hundred mills,
 
 212 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Whose pond'rous stamps' incessant shock 
 To powder grind the precious rock. 
 Loud as the din of blasting war, 
 These hammers of the mountain Thor 
 In gulch and canon far resound, 
 Till rippling, circling waves of sound 
 Spread out and ruffle far and wide, 
 To break against the mountains' side. 
 A thousand engines' labored stroke, 
 Each marked with its peculiar sigh ; 
 A forest of black shafts of smoke 
 From dingy smoke -stacks rising high, 
 There greet to-day the passer-by. 
 There, midway up the rocky slope 
 Of granite - crowned Mount Davidson, 
 Stands proud Nevada's boast and hope, 
 The first to greet the morning sun, 
 As rising from his sandy bed, 
 His first warm, mellow glance is shed 
 On fair Virginia, and the day
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT ROSE. 213 
 
 Breaks on her like a flash of spray. 
 
 But I digress ! The rising sun 
 
 Shone brightly o'er this mighty bar, 
 
 And sent his glowing beams afar 
 
 O'er Washoe's Vale and Steamboat Springs, 
 
 And like a bird with weary wings. 
 
 Seemed to alight in sweet repose 
 
 Upon the summit of Mount Rose. 
 
 Then downward swept the sunny flood, 
 
 Till reaching where our cabin stood 
 
 Among the foothills in the wood. 
 
 The pine - trees glistened in the light ; 
 
 I never saw them look more bright. 
 
 The air was balmy, fresh, and soft, 
 
 And, looking westward and aloft, 
 
 We then resolved my "pard" and I 
 
 (It was the Fourth day of July) 
 
 To spend the Nation's holiday 
 
 In climbing up the rugged way, 
 
 O'er rocks and chasms and gaping floes,
 
 214 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 That scar the sides of old Mount Rose. 
 So starting up the wooded slope, 
 We reached the base of a vast mound, 
 A "sugar-loaf" of mellow ground, 
 Close set with stately pines and firs, 
 And carpeted with leaves and burs 
 So thick that on the giddy steep 
 We sank into them ankle deep ; 
 And, often slipping on our knees, 
 We were compelled to use the trees 
 (There being nothing else) perforce, 
 When sliding back, to stay our course, 
 Where, panting, we would rest and then 
 Start on our upward course again. 
 When near the top, we chanced to find 
 Some huge quartz boulders, clinging fast 
 Unto the steep, as though the wind 
 Had brought them from the moon and cast 
 Them idly there, with just such force 
 As part inhumed them in the earth,
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT ROSE. 215 
 
 Which held them fast and stayed their course, 
 
 And claimed them as a native birth. 
 
 Here was a tempting chance at hand, 
 
 To witness something wild and grand. 
 
 So scrambling up to where one clung, 
 
 A full third larger than the rest, 
 
 Which seemed but ling'ring there at best, 
 
 So nicely was the balance^ hung 
 
 That held it in its place. We drew 
 
 Away the withered leaves and soil 
 
 That lay about its under side, 
 
 Then cut a pine-tree root that tied 
 
 The monarch in his mountain chair 
 
 It moved ! it leapt into the air ! 
 Then bounding downward madly flew, 
 While rumbling echo seemed to boil 
 Among the hills, as 'neath its blows 
 The great trees staggered in their throes. 
 Limbs, bark and splinters marked its track 
 As plainly as a cataract.
 
 216 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Again we started on our way. 
 
 The summit reached beyond, there lay 
 
 A slight depression, then a ridge, 
 
 A rocky back -bone, incline, bridge, 
 
 Or stairway, jagged, rough and steep, 
 
 Up which at times we had to creep, 
 
 And climb at times, at times to leap. 
 
 The pines and firs were left behind ! 
 
 The hardy spruce refused to grow ! 
 
 The crinkly chaparral declined, 
 
 And lingered 'mong the rocks below. 
 
 The gorges were all filled with snow ! 
 
 We reached a point and look about, 
 
 And found our stairway blotted out ! 
 
 The mountain here had dropped its " spurs," 
 
 Its hangers-on and followers, 
 
 And like a steeple seemed to rise, 
 
 A solid cone up to the skies. 
 
 Up this we struggled, till at length 
 
 We reached the top I scarce know how
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT ROSE. 217 
 
 And stood upon the mountain's blow. 
 
 Our weary limbs and wasted strength 
 
 Are straightway all forgotten now. 
 
 What vastness and sublimity 
 
 Were spread before our eager gaze ! 
 
 What wild and varied scenery ! 
 
 What pictures for the poet's lays ! 
 
 Among the passing clouds we stood 
 
 And looked about us, and below, 
 
 O'er mountains, valleys, lakes, and wood, 
 
 And rivers in meandering flow, 
 
 As lovely as God's tinted bow. 
 
 East, and below, lay Washoe Vale, 
 
 The Village, and the shining Lake, 
 
 And Steamboat's boiling springs, that pour 
 
 Their scalding torrents through the crust 
 
 And make their sounding caverns quake. 
 
 As struggling currents hiss and roar, 
 
 A hundred seething jets of steam 
 
 Out from the foaming founts are thrust,
 
 218 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Along the white crustation seam, 
 And in the sunlight palely gleam, 
 Weird as the spectres of a dream, 
 And yet we see them when awake. 
 Then next, the gloomy peaks that break 
 The morning sunbeams from the dale. 
 Beyond, the desert dim and pale, 
 The salt lagoons and Carson's Sink. 
 Then further, like a stolen link 
 From out Sierra's mighty chain, 
 Humboldt's blue peaks rise from the plain* 
 While far on the horizon's brink, 
 Full fifty weary leagues away, 
 Reese River Mountains rise on high, 
 A jagged wall against the sky, 
 The seeming eastern verge of day. 
 Northward are spread the Truckee Meads, 
 Where Truckee River winding speeds 
 Toward the foothills, where lies hid 
 The haunted Lake of Pyramid ;
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT ROSE. 21 ( J 
 
 In which the flashing river pours 
 The current of its liquid stores. 
 There like a sullen pool it stands, 
 Evaporates and feeds the sands ; 
 The wonder of the desert vale, 
 The scene of many an Indian tale 
 Of love and valor, virtue, vice, 
 And treachery, and cowardice : 
 How Manitou's avenging hand 
 Had overtook some graceless braves, 
 And had denied them common graves 
 And refuge in the Spirit Land ; 
 But doomed their bodies to the waves, 
 Their spirits to the lifeless sand ; 
 And when the whirlwind rages high, 
 These mingle with the sandy grain 
 And mount in columns to the sky, 
 And waltz about o'er lake and plain, 
 Then dissipate, to rise again 
 Whene'r the whirlwind's breath is nigh.
 
 220 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Next, farther north, lies Crystal Peak ; 
 
 And still beyond, the Mountain Twins 
 
 Tower side by side so brown and bleak ; 
 
 Their height, and shape, and sameness wins 
 
 Attention from the roaming eye 
 
 By reason of their symmetry. 
 
 Northwest afar looms Lassen's Butte, 
 
 High towering, without dispute, 
 
 The monarch of a wide domain 
 
 Of mountain -range and vale and plain. 
 
 While nearer, carpeted in green, 
 
 Sierra Valley lays between. 
 
 Next, westward, spreading out below, 
 
 Pride of the waters of the world, 
 
 Sierras' gem, famed Lake Tahoe, 
 
 Among the craggy peaks enfurled, 
 
 Extends her mirrored sheet elate ; 
 
 Her eastern shore, the Silver State, 
 
 Her western, California. 
 
 There like a sleeping nymph she lay
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT ROSE. 221 
 
 In isolation hid away. 
 
 From old Mount Rose range, side by side, 
 
 Southward, a long majestic chain 
 
 Of wooded mountains. Ophir Slide, 
 
 A lofty summit cleft in twain 
 
 By melting snows, has ta'en a ride 
 
 And caught a footing on the plain. 
 
 We let our vision roam again, 
 
 And catch a view of Carson's stream, 
 
 A river lovely as a dream ; 
 
 Fresh from the haunts of lasting snow, 
 
 It carries gladness in its flow 
 
 Along the grassy vale below. 
 
 Next, Silver Mountain strikes the view ; 
 
 Its proud companion, tried and true, 
 
 The Great Mogul, is full in sight, 
 
 Full crowned in never -failing white, 
 
 And chief among the Alpine crew.
 
 TO A MOSS -AGATE. 
 
 Beautiful gem of the desert ! a chaste, 
 
 A marvelous structure is thine ; 
 Within thy transparency Nature has traced 
 
 The delicate crystal moss -vine. 
 
 Oh, how long on this waste hast thou slumbered, 
 Thy presence till now all unknown ! 
 
 And what ages of time hast thou numbered, 
 Thou fair -pictured pellucid stone. 
 
 Oh, thou wonderful work of creation, 
 
 Thou nugget of petrified glass ! 
 Wert thou once but a liquid formation ? 
 
 Didst thou steal a moss -sprig from the grass? 
 
 222
 
 TO A MOSS-AGATE. 223 
 
 Or wert thou first under the water ? 
 
 Did the lichen environ thee there ? 
 And harden and crystallize after, 
 
 When brought to the sunlight and air ? 
 
 Within thee have two kingdoms united 
 Their types of formation and growth ; 
 
 And by thee is neither one slighted, 
 Thou wonderful model of both. 
 
 Beauteous badge of the tribe of Manasseh ! 
 
 Fair growth of the fullness of time ! 
 Thy kind had long since and still has a 
 
 True merit in every clime. 
 
 Here alone hast thou lain all these ages, 
 
 Half hid in the dull lifeless sand, 
 A thing fit to puzzle the sages 
 
 Or deck e'en the daintiest hand.
 
 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 True, the amethyst, diamond and ruby 
 
 Are gems of a costlier ray ! 
 But in exquisite natural beauty 
 
 Thou 'rt even more favored than they.
 
 THE GOLD -SEEKER'S DREAM. 
 
 At his length on the ground, with his blanket 
 
 around him, 
 Near the bank of a stream, an old prospecter 
 
 lay; 
 'T was his home for a time, for there sunset had 
 
 found him, 
 And there he was camped till the coming of day. 
 
 Not a cloud in the blue starry vault that hung 
 
 o'er him, 
 
 The moon, a pale crescent, was sailing the sky, 
 And the pine - trees gleamed out in the starlight 
 
 before him, 
 And nodded as Zephyr went wandering by. 
 
 15 225
 
 220 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 The clear dancing streamlet ran frolicking near him , 
 Like the babbling of children with something to say 
 Which they thought of importance, but seeming to 
 
 fear him, 
 Grew timid and, murmuring, hastened away. 
 
 He could hear the faint sound of the pine-needles 
 
 moving, 
 When kissed by the breath of the pure mountain 
 
 air, 
 
 Like the softest of voices in gentle reproving, 
 Or the whispers of wood-nymphs assembled at 
 
 prayer. 
 
 There was something so lovely, yet weird and so 
 
 lonely, 
 
 In the night scene around him so vividly wrought, 
 (For he knew of humanity he was the only 
 Within many long miles,) that it wakened his 
 
 thought.
 
 THE GOLD -SEEKER'S DREAM. 227 
 
 And his thoughts took him back to the home of 
 
 his childhood, 
 To his father and mother now gone to their 
 
 rest, 
 And his sisters, and brothers, and friends, and the 
 
 wild wood, 
 And, dearer than all, the fair girl he loved best. 
 
 Ah, Katie ! sweet Katie ! how dearly he loved 
 
 her, 
 With her brown sunny ringlets and eyes of deep 
 
 blue, 
 And he thought that for worlds he could not have 
 
 reproved her, 
 And had felt in his heart she would ever be true. 
 
 Then he thought how he left for the " New El 
 
 Dorado," 
 How hope's beacon of promise shone bright in the 
 
 West,
 
 228 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And the pledges and vows he and Katie then 
 
 made, oh ! 
 The thought of it since oft had robbed him of 
 
 rest. 
 
 Then the years of his toil on the Yubas and 
 
 Feather, 
 
 And the keen disappointment he felt long ago, 
 His sickness, and losses, and hardships at Fraser, 
 And at last how his hope had gone out at Washoe. 
 
 Then he thought of the letters his Katie had wrote 
 
 him, 
 His last answer, " I '11 come when I get enough 
 
 gold;" 
 His ill-luck, then his silence ; the last how it smote 
 
 him ! 
 For poor Katie was dead, and himself was grown 
 
 old.
 
 THE GOLD- SEEKER'S DREAM. 229 
 
 Yes, Katie had died died of watching and wait 
 ing 
 
 For time brought no tidings of him far away ; 
 
 And the bloom left her cheeks and her life kept 
 abating, 
 
 Till they laid her to sleep in the churchyard one 
 day. 
 
 Thus musing, his rest deepened into a slumber, 
 Unconscious his ear of the murmuring stream ; 
 No longer he saw the bright stars without 
 
 number, 
 And his thoughts softened down to the loveliest 
 
 dream. 
 
 He dreamed he was back in the elm-shaded village, 
 He could see the old church, with its steeple so 
 
 white ; 
 While beyond, with its orchard, and meadow, and 
 
 tillage,
 
 230 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Stood the tile -covered house where he first saw 
 the light. 
 
 Again he was young, full of hope, health and vigor, 
 
 And with footsteps elastic he hurried along, 
 
 For his heart was untouched by the world's cruel 
 
 rigor, 
 And there sprang to his lips little snatches of song. 
 
 T'ward a little stone cottage, with ivy embowered, 
 He hastened, for oft he had been there before, 
 With heart beating wildly, with love near o'er- 
 
 powered, 
 He stood on the threshold ! he knocked at the door ! 
 
 A light step in the hall, a " Come in," and before 
 
 him, 
 
 Rich in youth, and in beauty, and natural charms, 
 Stood his own darling Katie ; she did not ignore him, 
 But with glad acclamation she flew to his arms.
 
 THE GOLD -SEEKER'S DREAM. 231 
 
 Oh, the rapture and joy that seemed poured's o'er 
 
 his spirit, 
 Like the soft balmy breeze that floats over the 
 
 plain, 
 And the voice of his Katie, his heart thrilled to 
 
 hear it, 
 As its accents fell sweet on his ear once 
 
 Then out through the village and down the green 
 heather, 
 
 Where the tall willows fringe the meandering 
 brook, 
 
 They walked arm-in-arm, and they talked on to 
 gether, 
 
 And they lingered again in the sweet shady 
 nook. 
 
 The wild flowers bloomed 'mong the trees all 
 
 around them, 
 And the birds sweetly sung in the branches above,
 
 232 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 And there, while the spell of rich harmony bound 
 
 them, 
 He told her anew the old story of love. 
 
 Then they talked of the future, so bright in its 
 
 seeming, 
 
 For the love in their hearts cast a halo of bliss, 
 And Katie's sweet face seemed with happiness 
 
 beaming, 
 As on her sweet lips he imprinted a kiss. 
 
 He awoke! In the east, o'er the hill -tops ap 
 pearing, 
 
 Shone the radiant sun across mountain and glen ; 
 But above, a dense cloud, to the horizon Hearing, 
 Veiled the face of the morn in dark shadows a.^ain. 
 
 It looked like an omen of blight and of sadness, 
 For his life seemed a blank whence the sunshine 
 had gone ;
 
 THE GOLD -SEEKER'S DREAM. 233 
 
 And his dream was the shadow of vanishing glad 
 ness, 
 And he sighed for the joys that forever were flown. 
 
 Then he packed up his blankets, his flour, and 
 
 his bacon, 
 
 And shouldered his pick, and his shovel and pan ; 
 With his hope gone to sleep, never more to awaken, 
 He " lit out for new diggins" a heart-broken man. 
 
 Poor wreck of proud manhood ! toil, hardship, 
 
 and danger 
 Have weakened his frame, and obscured him, in 
 
 part ; 
 But his bacon and flour he '11 divide with the 
 
 stranger, 
 And the spirit of kindness is housed in his heart.
 
 THE OX -TEAMSTER OF WASHOK 
 
 A cloud of dust upon the plain, 
 
 It seems to move, but very slow ; 
 
 We gain upon it as we go, 
 
 And find the cause, a freighter's train ; 
 
 Ten yoke of oxen from Washoe, 
 
 Plodding the ashy alkali, 
 
 With " mountain-schooner " safe in tow, 
 
 And " back-action" and "jerkwater" 
 
 All coupled to the stern of her. 
 
 Of flour and whisky bound for Reese 
 
 Consisted the car^o, 
 
 In charge of the great "bull whacker" 
 
 Surnamed Missouri Joe. 
 
 But ere we had caught up to him, * 
 
 In solemn tones and slow,
 
 THE OX- TEAMSTER OF W A SHOE. 235 
 
 We heard the voice of hoarse command 
 Proceed from Captain Joe ; 
 And saw him prancing in the sand, 
 Gesticulating with his hand, 
 And brandishing a fearful brand. 
 And thus he gave his feelings vent 
 In threats and rough admonishment, 
 Upon the ears 
 Of twenty " steers," 
 Advising them to go : 
 
 " Yhea Bailey ! you ! 
 
 Up, Mike ! yhea Blue I 
 
 BJast your old tripes, 
 
 I '11 put more stripes 
 
 Across your hides 
 
 Nor ever streaked 
 
 A zebra's sides ! 
 
 Haw, Doc ! stan' up ! 
 
 Brigham, you pup ! 
 
 J '11 get inside
 
 236 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Your Mormon hide 
 With this yer brad, 
 Ef you don't slide ! 
 You, Bill, I say ! 
 D n your old soul ! 
 Crowd on the pole 
 Now will you, hey ? 
 Haw, Nig ! whoa hush ! 
 You just go in, 
 'R I '11 raise the plush 
 On your black skin, 
 You bet ! Yhea Mike ! 
 Dan! Darby! Pike! 
 You on the lead ! 
 Ef you don't go 
 I '11 let you know 
 
 Who buys yer feed ! 
 
 Stranger, good day ! 
 ' Fine team,' you say? 
 I should say yes,
 
 THE OX- TEAMSTER OF WASHOE. 23' 
 
 I rayther guess 
 They is that same. 
 If they aint good 
 Joe aint my name. 
 Stranger, see yere ! 
 That nigh lead steer 's 
 Spry'r an' a deer ; 
 
 And knowin' too 
 
 (Stan' up thar, Blue !) 
 What he don't know 
 'Bout teamin' tho' 
 Don't 'mount to much. 
 'Bout twenty such 
 
 Would make things howl. 
 
 Oh no ! guess not J 
 No chance ; you bet 
 They '<! make things get 
 Ef they got 'foul 
 
 A load 't was sot, 
 
 (You, Darby ! Spot !) 
 Yes, all good steers ;
 
 238 PACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 But him, lie ' prime, 
 He 's right on time, 
 Star number one. 
 No son o' a gun 
 With hide an' horns 
 Was ever born 
 
 Could copper him 
 
 (Stan' up thar, Tim !) 
 And gritty ? Lord ! 
 To see him fight ! 
 You take my word 
 It 's quite a sight. 
 Har flies, you bet, 
 When he gits set 
 On war ; he '11 bite 
 
 Worse than a dog, < 
 
 Stranger, you laugh ! 
 You think I chaff; 
 But I 'm a hog 
 Ef it aint true ! 
 'Twixt me an' you,
 
 THE OX- TEAMSTER OF W A SHOE. 239 
 
 Don't half the men 
 Know more 'n that steer ? 
 Least ef they do, 
 Whar I hev been 
 It don't appear. 
 Which is the best ? 
 Could n't say, on oath, 
 
 After a test ; 
 
 
 
 I drives with both 
 Upon the road, 
 Both whip and goad ; 
 Goad for short range, 
 (Yhea Duke ! you Rock !) 
 Lash for the lead, 
 That 's what I need 
 To stir the stock. 
 It may seem strange, 
 But when a steer 
 Gets a good stroke 
 Of this yer lash, 
 He '11 push right brash
 
 240 FACTS AND FANCIES. 
 
 Agin his yoke, 
 You bet ! it 's queer ! 
 You 're goin', hey ? 
 Well, pard, so - long ! 
 I '11 go it strong 
 To keep in view. 
 Haw Brigham, you ! 
 Bailey! Mike! Blue! 
 Nig! Darby! Doc! 
 Dan! Spotty! Rock! 
 Blast your old trumps, 
 Stir up your stumps ! 
 YheaWhitey! Brin! 
 Duke! Gerry! Tim! 
 You Dandy ! Jake ! 
 Pike! Paddy! Blake! 
 Yhea ! bully boys ! 
 I '11 put more welts 
 On your old pelts 
 Nor 's on a suit 
 Of corduroys."
 
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