University of California Berkeley 
 
Frice, ^5 Cta. 
 
 AND 
 
 1 
 
 
 AND 
 
 Various Other poems, 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN C 
 
 San Diego, February, A. D., 1893, 
 
 I would not have one shadow less 
 
 To rest upon my path 
 The mingled tears shall surely bless 
 
 The cup from which we quaff. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 While still a youth, I think about fifteen years of age, I 
 determined to make the far-off, world-wide distant Oregon my 
 manhood's field of educational labor. The discovery of golcl 
 brought me, a young man of twenty-two years, upon the crest 
 of the universal tidal wave of argonauts to this then new territory 
 of the Pacific. My plan for my work had been well studied, and 
 I came prepared for my undertaking. This special field for 
 life's labor became my guiding star and hereS^iested. The 
 secret of the one guiding and all-controlling impulse by which 
 I was led to choose this field and this work was my heart's grat- 
 itude to the free public school system of New England to 
 this boon and blessing of my orphaned childhood and boyhood. 
 That I came hither when I did and as I did with the object I 
 had in view, that I devoted the golden era of my life, the vigor 
 and ambition of youth, the strength and zeal of manhood, the 
 morning and the meridian of life, to public school work, (<&ly 
 first years, more than gratuitously!) is by no means a matter of 
 regret with me. Overwork and overzeal has no doubt hastened 
 infirmity ; and to early indifference to the glittering prize of 
 wealth I am for the most part indebted for poverty and depend- 
 ence in old age. But I accept it all as a part of my appointed 
 life, without murmur or complaint. On the contrary my heart 
 is a fount of overflowing gratitude to innumerable early and 
 later friends here and all over the State, who remember my 
 early life and are not unmindful of my present needs. 
 
 --J. C. PEI/TON. 
 
^ I 'rice, 25 Ct. 
 
 AND 
 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 r>\- j. c. rivi/rox 
 
 
 
 ^V tread not yet Elysian Hold 
 \Vf KtHl wearnarthiy fetter. 
 
 I'..:' we'll i>i Joy whm life doth 
 Till rpach'cl that wot id that's hotter. 
 
 W> .1^1 vn tho soil, we wn ry toil, 
 We (juulT liie's potion blttnr- 
 
 Yet will not higher life despoil. 
 Uy murmuring mid tia-se ivttera. 
 
 Tin- ch.'iiiis whlrh bind tlu> body down, 
 
 Tin- noul can nt-vor I'ettor; 
 And God i-hali yot life's Borrows CIDWTI. 
 
 And break OUT galling tether 
 
 Patience. t. on, faltorlnu ; bus 
 
 Toil on in chafin*r Ic;: 
 K'r.' |..i<$f bunc/ith th" Onmi'-i.Mit 
 We'll r-'-K-h/i i,'.al tlifit'n titter. 
 
 I Must Succeed. 
 
 Ah, yes, my friend. I must succeed. 
 Have I not little ones to heed? 
 Their little hungering mouths to feed? 
 I must nnrt will succeed. 
 
 Those flaxen heads, in sunshine glad, 
 Those little limbs they must be clad; 
 And roofless heads: indeeu tio sad; 
 I must succeed and will. 
 
 Dear Innocents! With love divine. 
 And trusting heart, which throbs with mine, 
 od, smooth our way o'er shores <>f time 
 I must and will succeed 
 
 If need shall be, I'll tramp the land 
 FroinJtforthern mount to^tmthern strand; 
 I'll tireless ^eek the kindly hand- 
 Indeed,! mart succeed, and win. 
 
Waiting for Rest. 
 * 
 
 See bottom of aovonth>page. 
 
 Oh, for a rest ! for a respite from pain; 
 
 For I am weary of life's buffets and struggles so vain, 
 
 Weary of the storms which sweep over the main. 
 
 I am weary of this tramping through the mart and the street, 
 Through the whirl and the swirl and the dust and the heat, 
 For a roof that may shelter, for the crumbs I may eat. 
 
 I am wearied of life's phantoms which forever have fled, 
 I am wearied of waiting on hopes blighted and dead, 
 I am weary of life's wine-cup, for its potion is red. 
 
 I am weary of mirage with its phantasies vain 
 
 With the glitter of life's prizes, or of wealth or of fame ; 
 
 Oh, for the rest of sweet childhood again, 
 
 I am weary of life's follies and its errors and sin, 
 Weary of life's visions in the far distance dim, 
 Weary of piercing 'yond provisions of men 
 So weary of thinking of "what might have been," 
 Except for life's errors, its sorrows and sin. 
 
 Oh, I am wear}' ! so weary, 'mid my toiling and tears, 
 I am faltering 'neath the burthens of life's waning years; 
 Deep ladened with its sorrows, its dreads and its fears. 
 
 If I reach forth my hand and would pluck golden sheaf, 
 
 I turn from my labor, all fruitless, in grief, 
 
 For I garner but the husks, or the poor withered leaf. 
 
 In the midst of life's bounties from the mount to the main. 
 In the midst of its beauties over valley and plain, 
 Both my heart and my hand still struggle in vain 
 O, I long for the peace of sweet childhood again; 
 
 Till I'm fainting and weary ; aye, sighing for rest, 
 Anxiously, hopefully longing for rest : 
 For my sun all in peace to decline in the West, 
 And 'sink neath the wave, forever at rest. 
 
 Oh, I'm crying for rest ! for a respite from care, 
 Which my spirit and my soul from my body would tear. 
 Oh, I'm weary, 'neath life's burthens too heavy to bear. 
 
 Waiting, still waiting hopefully waiting; 
 Waiting for my respite, praying for rest; 
 Waiting for my sun to go down in the West; 
 Hopefully, tearfully, wearily waiting, 
 Till he sink 'neath the billows all peaceful to rest. 
 
 But with hope and with faith and with trust I'll await, 
 And I'll bid calm defiance to the menace of fate, 
 Till the angels in compassion shall open the gate 
 And benignantly hail "Come, Bnter ! and worship 
 With the good and the great." 
 
 Neath the mists and the dun, though my journey be run, 
 Yet from rift in the cloud, o'er the down-going sun, 
 I'll await for the welcoming "Come hither, my son, 
 Thy journey hath ended. It is well ! it is done." 
 
 J. C. PEI/TON. 
 
' Si- 
 Sunday Morn. 
 
 i+~. 
 
 'Tis Sunday morn ! 
 Away the shadows of the night, 
 Let darksome phantoms fade from sight 
 Dissolve before the golden light 
 
 This glorious Sunday morn. 
 
 'Tis Sunday morn ! 
 Be curtains of the night withdrawn, 
 Let in the heavenly beaming dawn : 
 Anew let hope and cheer be born, 
 
 This gladsome Sunday morn. 
 
 'Tis Sunday morn ! 
 
 While murmuring wavelets from the main 
 Respond to songsters o'er the plain, 
 With grateful hearts we'll join refrain 
 
 And "Welcome Sunday morn." 
 
 'Tis Sunday morn ! 
 
 While shimmering leaf voice, shrub and tree, 
 From mountain bights to rippling sea, 
 And flowerets gem the glade and lea, 
 We'll lift our hearts. O God to the, 
 
 This heavenly Sunday morn. 
 
 'Tis Sunday morn ! 
 So in thy temple wide as earth 
 'Neatb lowly roof, from humble hearth, 
 Within onr souls let joys have birth ! 
 Mingled sweet with childhood's mirth 
 
 This holy Sunday morn. 
 
 This Sunday morn 
 Let mortal join in Nature's song, 
 While heaven its echoes ^weet prolong: 
 
 "Bless God for Holy Sunday morn." 
 
 J. C. PEI/TON. 
 Sunday Morn, San Diego, Feb. 7, 1892. 
 
 * >*< 
 
 United We Stand. 
 
 I see through mist a temple rise, so fair, 
 
 And upward glenm in beauty 'gainst the skies, 
 The pleasure and the envy of all eyes. 
 
 And o'er each tower and minaret is there 
 
 Proudly upraised amid the shimmering air, 
 That flag which o'er the crest of hero flies. 
 
 Alas ! that now, 'mid moans and grief and sighs, 
 
 The structure trembles, topples 'mid despair 
 Of thousands, 'neath whose proudly gracious glance 
 
 The beauteous temple er'st so grandly rose. 
 It's columns swaying, ! envious eyes askance, 
 
 Gaze on its fate, and wondering ask, "who knows?" 
 "Who knows?" The cause, alas! can none advance ? 
 
 Ah, God ! no more than simply this: "Who knows ?" 
 
 J. C. PEVTON. 
 
Goes Well. 
 
 My friend : you ask me if the world goes well. 
 
 Thank you, indeed ; but, rather, well "so, so." 
 
 Full well, alas ! as all the world doth know 
 (And, hence, it needs not here that I should tell, 
 Attempt to solve life's ever mystic spell,) 
 
 That o'er all earth the track of toil is slow : 
 
 'Tis that which winds o'er Alpine hights of snow. 
 But though we hear of hopes, a constant knell, 
 
 We yet see hights on mountain hights arise, 
 
 See hopes rekindle still while others die. 
 Indeed, still thence beyond the cloudiest skies. 
 
 Hope yet leads on the ever wistful eye; 
 And useless, all, were murmurs, tears or sighs, 
 
 While phantoms flit and brightest visions fly. 
 
 J. C. PEI/TON. 
 
 P. S. I have to ask my friends who have subscribed for my 
 book to be very indulgent. Procuring the necessary number 
 of subscribers to enable me to publish, I find, indeed, a toil- 
 some task, requiring more time and far greater labor than I had 
 anticipated. Times are hard and money scarce everywhere in 
 San Diego especially. However, I am making constant pro- 
 gress, and shall succeed in due time, if I live. Meantime, this 
 little herald-like outrunner will, I trust, be received with gen- 
 erous public favor and thus greatly aid the larger undertaking. 
 
 J. C. PEI/TON. 
 
 Chaff. 
 
 My reader : be not exacting : 
 
 When you look lor the wheat 
 You will find with it chaff; 
 For no grain e'er was garnered 
 
 With but kernal alone. 
 If you thirst at a fountain 
 
 While but nectar would quaff, 
 Go seek it then heavenward, 
 
 For on earth there is none. 
 If you feast upon sighs 
 
 While others shall laugh, 
 Look for pity 'yond the stars, 
 For nearer there is none. 
 
 Nay, accept with the good 
 Not a little that is bad ; 
 For with the weal there is woe 
 
 The earth all over. 
 With a good share of mirth 
 Accept much that is sad. 
 Nor in impotent wrath 
 All good reasoning spurn 
 And wish vainly to turn 
 The world all over. 
 
 J. C. PEi/TON. 
 
Didactic. 
 
 We've found that those who most profess 
 Are surely those who least possess. 
 
 Have found that those who ne'er forgive, 
 Have darkened lives unfit to live. 
 
 Have found that those who never heed 
 What other hungering souls may need, 
 
 Though blessed with wealth or high estate 
 Are morbid victims, cursed, of hate. 
 
 They're mountain hights, 'neath shrouds of snow, 
 W T ho ne'er the gladning sunbeams know 
 Which bathe the verdant glades below. 
 
 J. C. PEI/TON. 
 
 The Poem Peddler. 
 
 Aye, this is my journey, up and down 
 Through the thronging town up and down ; 
 Through the heat and dust of the heedless town. 
 
 Weary, half fainting, for something to eat ; 
 Faltering' indeed, on my blistering feet, 
 
 Up and down through the busy town. 
 
 But this is appointed : up and down 
 'Neath tears and the sneers, the smiles and the frown 
 Of others, forsooth, whom I pass in the town. 
 
 Ah, life ! such as this, it seemeth a cheat ! 
 This selling of poems for a nickel a sheet, 
 
 Up and down through the heedless town. 
 
 'Neath a cold indifference and a haughty frown. 
 
 O, that a smile would a moment beguile ! 
 O, for a word that would soothe for awhile ! 
 
 O, that a hand and a heart, indeed, 
 
 Would the pinching of poverty thoughtfully heed. 
 
 O, that some soul would a sympathy feel 
 
 For the sigh and the tear, for the woe or the weal 
 Of a struggler who wanders up and down, 
 Wearily wanders through the heedless town ; 
 
 Up and down on his blistering feet, 
 
 All day long for something to eat. 
 
 W T ith faith's content we'll bide tomorrow, 
 With hope and song defy its sorrow. 
 
 J. C. PEI/TON. 
 
Familiar Ground. 
 
 Ah, yes, my friends, I know the ground ; 
 
 7 know it all and know it well, 
 Where mortal feet may tread, 
 
 Life's rugged pathway up and down, 
 By fleeting phantoms led. 
 
 'Neath flattery false, and fortune's frowns, 
 
 'Mid fate's mysterious wed 
 From mountain hights to depth's profound, 
 
 Till lowly droops the whitening head. 
 I know the ground and know it well. 
 
 And this I've learned, from all life's years ; 
 
 Whate'er betides us, ill or weal, 
 That smiles are better far than tears, 
 
 (Sighs steal our hopes and give but fears ;) 
 Grief's better, far, concealed. 
 
 We love e'en rosy epitaph 
 
 How'er disguised the cup may be, 
 Bitter the draught from which we quaff.) 
 'Twere happier, far, the merry laugh, 
 
 Than sighs from o'er the sea. 
 
 And this full well and oft I've learned, 
 
 By sore experience taught, 
 That wisdom oft were dearly earned. 
 (As counsel oft were rashly spurned.) 
 
 And fame were oft too dearly bought. 
 
 That oft in sealed cornerstone, 
 
 'Neath some proud, vaulting tower, 
 Both name and fame find {home 
 
 There sleep eternal from that hour. 
 
 And now I stand where others stood, 
 The wise of ages firmly stood, 
 
 Firm in the faith, amid earth's strife 
 That better part, by far of life, 
 
 Were found in wisely doing good. 
 Aye. wisely doing good I 
 
 J. C. PELTOK. 
 
 ' 3r' * >** *>*<* ' '-* 4 
 
 Small is one in the world's vast hive, 
 When each for himself, 
 For lucre or pelf 
 Is ever so eagerly stirring, 
 Take your portion, be content, 
 And when it is spent, 
 Keep on with the world still whirling. 
 
 J. C. PEI/TON. 
 
NELL.* 
 
 Lo, beauteous flower, 
 Of all the choicest in the bower: 
 But cruel breath the bower enthralling 
 The floweret fades, its petals falling. 
 Softly softly! Nell is dying- 
 Darling Nell. 
 
 Don't disturb her. Nell is dying- 
 Darling Nell. 
 Beating faster 
 Breathing fainter, she is dying 
 
 Precious Nell. 
 
 Drooping eyelids, surely closing. 
 Waiting robes above disclosing, 
 Lo, in arms unseen reposing 
 
 Nell is dying darling Nell. 
 "While dear angels watch are keeping, 
 Sleep comes soft o'er eyelids creeping 
 She is sleeping, aye, now sleeping, 
 
 Sweet dear babe! Our darling Nell. 
 
 Now awakening darling Nell! 
 Upward, now, lo, upward soaring, 
 Little hand, uplift, adoring, 
 
 Little heart its joy out-pouring 
 
 Sweet dear'babe! Our darling Nell, 
 Lip hath faded, cheeks are pale 
 Kissed by angels, spirits hail 
 Glides our darling 'yond the veil 
 No more dying sweet dear babe, 
 Our darling Nell. 
 
 THE TRUE TEACHER. 
 Of kindly heart, aud genial smile, 
 Which troubled hearts shall sooth, beguile, 
 A soul deep touched by childhood's sigh, 
 And moved to tears by weeping eye. 
 This is the teacher, good and true, 
 Who lives in hearts life's journey through. 
 Patient and loving, tender, kind, 
 Just in reproof, and never blind; 
 And constant as the speeding wind. 
 For whom each morn shall toils renew, 
 And every hour bring duties new, 
 In all life's toilsome journey through. 
 This is the teacher, faithful, true: 
 \V hile other hearts shall find repose, 
 While other lids shall softly close, 
 The teacher's lamp, though burning low, 
 Shall still on sacred altar glow. 
 But hence some day God's reapers come; 
 Not bugle blast or beat of drum 
 Shall then declare our journey run 
 But sweetly whispered words, "Well done." 
 On the death of a beautiful and beloved~child~ 
 
BYE AND BYE. 
 
 Bye and bye 
 
 It is finished it is done! 
 
 No more years toilsome years 
 
 No more sighs, no more tears 
 
 It is finished; it is done! bye and bye. 
 
 Bye and bye 
 
 It is finished it is done! 
 And a lowly sinking sun 
 'Neath the crimson and the dun 
 
 Beckons gently, it is done bye and bye. 
 
 Bye and bye 
 
 All is finished, all is done! 
 Softly lies the head at rest, 
 Folded o'er the silent breast 
 Work all done hands at rest; 
 
 All is finished, all is done! Bye and bye. 
 
 Bye and bje 
 
 It is finished; it is done! 
 
 And the loving gentle word 
 
 Bending lowly (sweetly heard), 
 
 Angels whisper "It is done." 
 
 Heavens responding "Peace, well done. 
 It is finished, it is done! Bye and bye. 
 
 So we'll wait, aye hopeful wait, 
 'Till the angels ope the gate 
 'Till we hear: 
 
 "It is finished, it is done!" Bye and bye. 
 
 REFLECTION. 
 
 'Mid all our pangs and doubts and fears, 
 Ambitions crushed, and bitter tears 
 
 In all life's weary, wasted years 
 
 My calm reflection oft were this; 
 
 "God's handy- work is ne'er amiss." 
 
 By God's own hand and will we're here, 
 
 Why doubt his care? His will why fear? 
 
 Why then the sigh, why then the tear? 
 
 A grain of sand mid boundless sea, 
 A mote amid immensity 
 
 May sink to chambers dark and deep, 
 And there from age to age may sleep; 
 
 Yet, still secure ne'er cease to be, 
 Nay, never lost, O God, to thee. 
 
SATURDAY NIGHT. 
 
 It is Saturday night. 
 Lo, the sun in the west goeth down to his rest; 
 
 In majesty, peacefully sinking to rest 
 'Neath the crimson and dun his journey is run. 
 Now r the shadow of night- 
 It is Saturday night. 
 The day is done, and the week is gone; 
 And the shadows have come, and the curtains are 
 
 drawn, 
 And the lamps are alight 
 
 It is Saturday night. 
 
 A click 'neath the dial in its unceasing chime, 
 A stroke of the lyre of on-marching time 
 In his on-hastening flight 
 
 It is Saturday night. 
 
 A few more rests in the measure of time, 
 A few more beats in his pulsating rhyme, 
 And our day is done, and our journey is run. 
 Then lo, in the west, all peaceful to rest, 
 Our down-going sun 'neath the crimson and dun 
 Mid the shadows of night 
 
 It is Saturday night. 
 
 Now conscience at rest, hail! specters of night! 
 All conscious of right will repose in its might 
 Wait content the "awaking" when the angels of 
 
 light 
 
 Shall fill all the heavens with the beams of delight; 
 And w r e cheerful adieu to Saturday night. 
 
 SONNET-NIGHT. 
 
 The faithful hand maid of the effulgent ray 
 The gentle bride of glorious Day, is Night! 
 When coursed were heav'ns in His resistless might 
 
 His glory wanes, then final fades away; 
 
 Then shadows fall obedient to Her sway; 
 And wearied toilers of the earth unite 
 In sweet repose, and dream of realms of light. 
 
 Where night nor shadows wait the steps of day; 
 Where whispering breeze and gently murumriug 
 seas 
 
 In gentlest notes, in soft melodious chime, 
 And rippling wavelets 'long the slumbering lee, 
 
 Still note the onward silent tread of time 
 Toward that e'er blessed realm where shadows flee. 
 
 And happy suns 'mid heavens eternal shine. 
 
THE KINTERGARDEN. 
 
 Like smiling flowers amid parterre 
 My little men and maidens fair, 
 
 Whose presence grace this sunny hall. 
 
 God grant that shadows ne'er shall fall 
 To blight these blossoms fair. 
 
 But may dear flowerets lovely grow 
 As were the beauteous sunset glow 
 (Harmonious tints of Iris' beams,) 
 And radiant as the morning gleams 
 On crystal heights of snow. 
 
 But, flowers of earth live but a day. 
 
 Their petals fade, in dust decay, 
 Their fragrance lost, their beauty gone, 
 They blight and fall 'neath wind and storm 
 
 Transcient as breath of May. 
 
 God grant, unlike the floral bloom, 
 Whose blushes fade and fall so soon, 
 These eyes and cheeks shall brighter glow, 
 These minds and hearts more beauteous grow 
 On earth and 'yond the tomb. 
 
 These rosy lips indeed may pale, 
 These pulses still, these heart-throbs fail; 
 But yet that life we live to-day, 
 If so we will, like Heavenly ray, 
 
 Shall light our way beyond the tomb. 
 
 Rejoice, rejoice in childhood mirth, 
 Bring gladsome cheer 'round sacred hearth; 
 In merry voice with nature sing, 
 And gambol 'mid the flowers of spring, 
 Which gem the beauteous earth. 
 
 While sunbeams o'er your hearts shall play 
 While merry lark shall chant her lay, 
 May waiting angel's gentle hand 
 Safe guide your footsteps t' ward the lands 
 Where flowers no more decay. 
 
 INVOCATION. 
 
 Beloved muse, why tarriest thou? 
 
 Doth not my tearful pleading voice 
 Imploring crave thy presence now 
 
 To make my soul once more rejoice? 
 
 Offended art thou, charming one, 
 
 By seeming infidelity? 
 For once I worshiped at thy throne, 
 
 And thou didst greet and smile on me. 
 
 Thy dainty fingers touched my eyes 
 O, magic change o, wondrous gleams! 
 
 What glorious sunshine! radiant skies! 
 
 Which o'er me threw their dazzling beams. 
 
My ears them press'd what sounds were these! 
 
 I knew the language of the waves! 
 The birds, the flowers, the trembling leaves 
 
 Lent me the voice my soul now craves. 
 
 O, come again, sweet Euterpe! 
 
 Teach me thy songs of former years, 
 When all the world was joy to me 
 
 Before I knew life's griefs and tears. 
 
 O, come again, my Euterpe, 
 
 Throw o'er my heart thy halo sw y eet 
 
 O, bring thy presence near to me, 
 Now kneeling humbly at thy feet. 
 
 MARGARET W. PEI/TON.* 
 *Mrs.J. C. Pelton, to whom I am immeas- 
 urably indebted for criticism, revision, and 
 othei aid in my literary work, 
 
 My Partner and I. 
 
 Once a time, (now late in the years 
 When life's stimulants common nor gladd'n nor cheer 
 When skies were cloudy, not often were clear), 
 I sighed for a rest, for a little vacation 
 From business vexation, some meet relaxation; 
 And also, indeed, some change in vocation. 
 
 I was weary of toiling and sweating and care, 
 Chasing phantoms as fleeting and light as the air, 
 And smiles of caprice as false as were fair. 
 
 So I took me a partner, young vigorous and strong. 
 (He'd a heart like a stone, and of nerve, his a thong 
 Of a cow-hide a lasso; and of honor, he had none). 
 
 Said this gentleman friend (?) to me one day: 
 "Come, down from your wagon, I've someting to say; 
 Something to propose to you in a business way! 
 You are old, my friend, already your head 
 Is whitening and drooping, and faltering your tread ; 
 Why longer thus toil, to vexation be wed? 
 
 "Come, I have experience, and you have the cash, 
 You're generous to a fault, and I I'm not rash, 
 We'll have harmony always, nay, we never can clash; 
 I've lots of experience, you've plenty of cash. 
 
 Agree? agree? well, we'll both be like men; 
 
 We've experience, and money, and honor, I ken; 
 I'll pick up the pennies, and you'll wield the pen."* 
 
 'Agreed," said I; (willing, my eyes quickly filling, 
 All my heart with joy, and gratitude thrilling:) 
 "I'll take your experience, and here is my shilling." 
 
 Now the outcome was this, of this partnership bliss: 
 My "pard" took my cash, in a manner too rash; 
 And now I've experience but minus my cash. 
 
 'Editorial. 
 
THE STILLY HOUR. 
 
 Sweetly, now, the balmy breeze 
 
 Whispers softly through the leaves: 
 
 Pensive winds from yonder seas 
 
 Gently murmur through the trees; 
 
 Mystic rhymes now sweetly blend, 
 Chiming, floating through ""The Glens." 
 
 Glowing, golden, in the West, 
 
 Slowly sinks the sun to rest; 
 
 Now unwreathed the mountain crest, 
 
 Shadows deepen o'er his breast; 
 
 Crimson, now, with orange blends; 
 Shadows lengthen in "The Glens." 
 
 Now, beneath the twilight sky, 
 
 Eagle soars to eyrie high; 
 
 Now the lonely heron's cry; 
 
 Nestward, now, the swallow's fly; 
 
 Wandering herd unhurried, wends 
 Homeward pathway toward "The Glens." 
 
 Bees have kissed the closing flower; 
 
 Birds have sought their sheltering bower. 
 
 Lo, a hushed, mysterious power 
 
 Whispers sweet, " 'Tis evening hour." 
 Shadows deepen at "The Glens," 
 Night with day harmonious blends. 
 
 Hidden, now, the orb of day, 
 
 Rules no more in proud display 
 
 Throws aside His beaming ray, 
 
 Yields to gentle night her sway 
 
 O'er the mount and glade and glen, 
 O'er the forest, field, and fen. 
 
 Pattering feet now cease their tread, 
 
 Evening vespers sweetly said, 
 
 Pillowed now the infant head, 
 
 Childhood dreams in tiny bed; 
 
 'Mid the shadows of the Glens 
 God His bounteous mercy sends. 
 
 Lo, 'mid stilly hours of night, 
 
 Hither angels wing their flight; 
 
 While the starry gems of light 
 
 Keep our dreaming visions bright. 
 Thus around our peaceful Glens 
 Waiting Heaven its blessing sends 
 
 While untiring lord of day 
 
 Round the earth shall speed his way; 
 
 'Till the morning breaking rays 
 
 Glories of Supreme display; 
 Endless all in love again 
 Lights the glebe, and glade and glen 
 
 Lights in gorgeous tints of gold, 
 
 Jewels of the earth untold 
 
 Lights life's pages yet unrolled; 
 
 Lights poor weary hearts, and cold; 
 
 Lights till hence from shadowing glen 
 Heavenward find we home again. 
 
REMEMBER-50 Years Ago. 
 
 To Mrs. J. C. G.* 
 
 Remember thee? 
 
 Ah, yes, I do remember thee, 
 
 Indeed; and well remember C. 
 
 That kindly word, that gentle voice 
 That tender look, that genial smile 
 Of youthful pleasure these my choice; 
 These most did youth beguile. 
 Nay, never yet, no, never yet 
 Nay, never more, shall I forget 
 How dear thou wert to me. 
 
 Ere ever yet my tender heart 
 Had felt love's sweet yet lurking smart, 
 (Ere yet 'twas stung by Cupid's dart,) 
 My thought went out in love to thee 
 How pure in love to thee, dear C. 
 
 Ere care had worn its deepening trace, 
 Ere sorrow found abiding place, 
 And rested there in furrowed face, 
 
 How fond my thought went out to thee, 
 
 To thee, how pure, to thee. 
 
 Ere manhood's duties, toils and cares, 
 (Along its path ten thousand snares), 
 Ere garnered yet life's worthless tares, 
 Ere yet had whispered love: "Beware!" 
 
 My heart went out in love to thee 
 
 To' thee, dear C., to thee. 
 
 And now when droops the whitening head, 
 While slow and faltering were my tread 
 Since boyhood dreams and hopes are dead, 
 And youthful phantoms sweet are fled , 
 
 My heart, dear C., goes out to thee 
 
 In sweet and tender memory. 
 
 Nor never yet no, never yet 
 'Till life's low sun declining sets 
 No, ne'er indeed, shall I forget 
 How dear thou wert to me. 
 
 And so, while memory lingers, still 
 
 A thought of thee my heart shall thrill, 
 
 And oft, unbidden, tear shall fill 
 
 Shall tender thoughts go out to thee. 
 
 Aye, still shall fondest memories 
 
 Go out in love to thee. 
 
 *A teacher of my youth, 50 years ago, from whom I have 
 just received a letter. Feb. 15, 1892. 
 
My Creditors. 
 
 Oh, friends: Do I not know you? 
 Indeed, and that I owe you. 
 
 And this too, I know, of my purse, 
 
 That 'tis empty. 
 
 Not a nickel is there: its contents is air, 
 And when it were not so, indeed it were rare. 
 
 Empty, quite empty. 
 
 And an empty purse, 'twere nearly a curse 
 A miserable thing, to be sure. 
 
 But 
 
 Till the thing can be cured, it must be endured, 
 
 Of course, to be sure. 
 
 But I am not a lemon to be seized and be squeezed; 
 Nor a nurse to be sucked, be milked and be teased 
 As if e'en my blood would an hunger appease. 
 
 Nay, patience, kind friend, await and endure, 
 Till fortune shall smile, if indeed shall not laugh, 
 My potion is the bitterest, by far, yet I will it quaff. 
 
 Meanwhile I will tramp 
 
 From southernmost strand to the northernmost land. 
 And the nickel and the dime will I seek from the hand 
 
 That the nickel and the dime hath to spare 
 For the worn and the weary who tramp o'er the land, 
 
 Gray headed and faltering almost in despair. 
 
 And my purse when replenished 
 (And my wandering is finished,) 
 
 I'll divide with my friends to be sure. 
 Till then, o, ye friends, be patient, 
 
 Be forgiving, be kind, and endure. 
 
 Endure and be patient 
 While footsore and weary, tired faltering and teary, 
 
 I tramp o'er the land 
 
 On my blistering feet, in the dust and the heat 
 Thro' the mart and the street, for the crumbs that I eat 
 And for the nickel for you aye, honestly due 
 
 I'll tramp, tramp, tramp. 
 
 Toil-worn and weary, tramp, tramp, tramp; 
 
 Hopeful and prayerful, tramp, tramp, tramp. 
 And as possible cheerful with hope's lighted lamp, 
 Though oft may be tearful, I'll tramp, tramp, tramp. 
 
 SUNBEAMS AND SHADOWS. 
 
 Low, Sunbeams climb the mountain crest, 
 Then fill all earth with light and joy; 
 
 Then followeth Night upon whose breast, 
 In peaceful rest, we silent hours employ. 
 
 I would not have one shadow less 
 To rest upon my devious path; 
 
 Their mingled tears shall duly bless 
 The cup I willing quaff. 
 
Look for the Good. 
 
 ^=$<- 
 
 Do we love what is noble, what is honest, what is true. 
 Or the low and repulsive, the odious to sight ? 
 
 The good and the pure, or the hateful in man ? 
 Love the heavens and the fields in emerald and blue, 
 
 Or the gloom of earth's sorrows and the darkness of night, 
 Earth's beauties and bounties, or its shades in the van ? 
 
 Love the mount and the valley, the glade and the lea, 
 
 All clad in rich garments perennial of spring? 
 Or ruins and confusion, which a chaos shall bring? 
 
 Love landscape of beauty, laved by waves of the sea 
 Love that which to heart a sweet soothing may bring, 
 Or that which o'er life a shadow shall fling ? 
 
 Then turn ye the camera from the drear parching plain, 
 Where the wistful and weary, yet the still searching eye 
 
 Wanders ever and ever yet wanders in vain 
 
 For some oasis verdant 'neath the o'er-spreading sky ; 
 
 Turn to field all joyous, which giveth not pain. 
 
 Nor hath heartaches, nor sorrows, nor sighing, nor tears. 
 
 Xor need we look heavenward, or gaze 'yond the main ; 
 It is here all around us. 'tis beneath every eye : 
 
 ' Tis the good, not the evil, inherent in man. 
 
 Aye, look for the good, 'tis the far wiser plan. 
 Here's the field that shall cheer and shall gladden the eye. 
 More beauties hath not heaven, nor the earth, nor the sky ; 
 Then look for the good inherent in man. 
 
 O, how oft 'mid the toils and the sorrows oi life 
 
 Were the hand fraternal extended, 
 Kxcept for the smile, or a kiss, or a tear, 
 
 In the midst of earth's strife, 
 God knows how one life might have ended. 
 
 O, the good, not the evil ! tis the Omnipotent's plan. 
 
 Then, look for the good inherent in man. 
 
 REFLECTION. 
 
 Alas, my dear God ! but had I the pen, 
 Or failing in that, then had I the tongue, 
 
 What a chant on the wings of the wind I would fling : 
 Such as by mortal before hath never been sung, 
 
 Should my voice in the ear of humanity ring : 
 " Look for the good not the evil in man ! " 
 
 I'Vom high and the humble should this chorus outring, 
 And the priest and the prince, and the knight and the 
 
 king, 
 
 With the ballet and the paeon should unitedly sing : 
 " Look for the good, not the evil in man." 
 
 Aye, the mount and the vale should respond to my song, 
 Both the earth and the sea should in its echo prolong ; 
 It should waft on the winds of the world all around, 
 Till the east and the west and the poles should resound: 
 "Look for the wood inherent in trnn ! " 
 
The Ladder. 
 
 Behold, a ladder ! let gently down from heaven ! 
 
 Gently let down to rest on shores of time. 
 Its upmost reach mid fleecy clouds, all riven 
 
 By golden sunbeams from the throne Divine ; 
 From halo beauteous as the rainbow's hue 
 
 Inspiring hope, uplifting heart anew\ 
 
 Its feet upon the Rock of Ages placed 
 
 Ages which ne'er beginning had, nor ne'er have end. 
 Rests there secure till scrolls of time's erased, 
 
 Till aeons past with aeons hence shall blend. 
 O. blessed rescue ! from earth's e'er piteous storm, 
 
 Of billions gone and billions yet unborn. 
 
 Though darksome billows round its base still roll, 
 In angry tumult toss their crests on high, 
 
 Yet there, behold, beneath the Onmescient eye, 
 Heaven's rescued millions counts upon its scroll 
 
 Rescued from cruel surge of Vlie warring sea 
 
 To dwell in peace eternal ; to dwell, O God, with Thee. 
 
 O, Rock of Ages ! priceless boon ! 'Tis hope/ 
 O, blessed hope ! Offspring of Heaven thy goal, 
 
 Thy home, thy throne. Forever, blessed hope ! 
 The golden anchor of the priceless soul ! 
 
 Let down from heaven by loving, unseen hands 
 To save poor mortals mid earth's shifting sands. 
 
 The ladder, lo ! from heaven let gently down, 
 And firmly held by unseen angels' hands 
 
 ('Mid silvery mists lo, golden crown ! ) 
 Is Mercy's gift, to serve as love demands : 
 
 To save from earthly beating waves and storm, 
 When other rescue sinking soul hath none. 
 
 And, lo ! Love's holy messengers are there, 
 In robes all spotless as the Alpine snow, 
 
 Enwreathed in heavenly smile holy and fair ! 
 
 They're upward pointing, heavenward, from below, 
 
 And from their lips, in tones of tenderest love : 
 "Come, toilers, to that rest of realms above." 
 
 The Eternal One, who thrones amid the spheres above, 
 
 Who reigns beyond creations starry bounds 
 Worlds upon worlds, and spheres on spheres is love ! 
 
 And universes all, with love resound: 
 "Hail, precious boon ! Hail, priceless heavenly love ! 
 
 From vasty deep ! From vasty heights profound ! " 
 And misty space, 'yond mortal ken, resound: 
 
 "Hail, Gifts Divine ! Immortal hope and love." 
 
 J. C. PEI/TON. 
 
Deaf and Mute. 
 
 ( Sonnet. ) 
 Silent I stand amid life's flow and ebb, 
 
 And gaze bewildered on its restless swirl. 
 Indeed, my palsied senses daze and whirl 
 
 Amid the maze of life's entangled web ; 
 In cautious fears by timid step I tread. 
 
 While others proud life's gleaming flag unfurl, 
 
 I stand aside, a sullen, moody churl, 
 And murmur that my earthly joys are fled. 
 
 But thanks go up that music of the spheres 
 Throughout the realms of happy earth and skies, 
 
 Sweetly re-echo through my deafened ears, 
 And hush and soothe the murmurs and the sighs; 
 
 Drive quick away the useless rising tears, 
 And make me joyous that I'm blessed with eyes. 
 
 J. C. PP;LTON. 
 
 Infancy. 
 
 ( Sonnet. ) 
 The beaming heaven o'er which the cloudlets fly, 
 
 The landscape fair o'er which swift shadows chase, 
 
 While mingling sunbeams join the merry race. 
 A bubbling fount with crystals filled ; a cry, 
 A rapturous joy- sweet blending with the sigh ; 
 
 E'er yet deceits and sinful blush deface, 
 
 Or sorrows leave their ever deepening trace. 
 The beauteous vale o'erspread with fragrant bloom, 
 
 The golden blush o'ergilding mountain crest, 
 E'er yet the beaming, weary, sultry noon 
 
 Glides dreary down beneath the clouding West. 
 A laugh, a cry" a hope, the sigh too soon ; 
 
 And, e'er were yet life well begun, ah, yes ! 
 A joy, a hope ; of life the blessed boon. 
 
 J. C. PEI/TON. 
 
 That Chord. 
 
 Around my neck by tender hand 
 
 A silken chord was flung 
 What saddening tale could tell that strand, 
 
 Had it a voicing tongue. 
 Alas ! my Lord, 
 
 Full oft, indeed, mid earthly bliss, 
 There hangs some secret pang. 
 Ah, me ; alas, and now if not amiss, 
 What tale upon this theme would hang. 
 That silken chord. 
 
 But silent hangs the silken chord 
 
 And silent best the tougue, 
 While we forgive that softest hand 
 
 Which sorrow o'er us flung. 
 
 O, silken chord. -[ J. C. PEI/TON. 
 
Beyond the Veil. 
 
 When closed are the eyes, 
 Then hushed are the sighs r* 
 
 'Yond life's shadowy vale 
 
 Who shall pierce through the veil ? 
 Who lift the dark pall ? 
 Nay, we'll wait for our call 
 
 For our uprising sun, 
 
 'Yond the mist and the dun. 
 
 Wait for the angels 
 To rekindle our light ; 
 
 To guide from the tomb 
 
 Thence away from its gloom, 
 
 To the realms eternal 
 Of peace and delight. 
 
 J. C. PEI/TON. 
 
 My Epitaph. 
 
 God grant 
 
 As life's sore battle-scars shall heal, 
 And time in softened footsteps steal, 
 That we again shall tender feel 
 A heart's deep throb for others weal. 
 
 God grant 
 
 While yet in life we linger still, 
 This side the ever waiting tomb, 
 By love and word, by deed and will 
 We may some darkened heart illume. 
 
 God grant 
 
 While yet amid life's ripened years 
 We may some stricken hearth yet cheer, 
 Assuage some grief dispel some fear, 
 From dimming e> e may brush some tear, 
 
 God grant 
 
 That 'mid life's constant shifting sands, 
 Still toiling o'er its weary strand, 
 By kind and timely outstretched hands 
 We other faltering steps may stay, 
 And from our lamps some cheering ray 
 Be thrown o'er other's darkened way. 
 
 God Grant 
 
 That could I write my epitaph 
 
 These graven words in truth might read, 
 On humble shaft in my behalf, 
 
 For all the world to heed: 
 Here lieth low the humble dust 
 
 Of one of kindly deed. 
 With faith in God and reverent trust, 
 
 The poor he sought to feed, 
 He heard the words "earth's treasures rust," 
 My bleating lambs go feed. 
 
 J. C. PEI/TON. 
 
Haste Onward, O, Time. 
 
 Ever onward ! still onward, O Time, in thy flight. 
 
 Serenly, supremely, in majesty's might. 
 
 Let the past with the past forever be buried, 
 While onward, ever onward, unresisting we're hurried 
 Onward, still onward. 
 
 Let the past, all in crimson, or in lurid and dun, 
 Hang in the heavens o'er the down going sun, 
 
 O'er life's battles we have lost, o'er its battles have won. 
 What we hope for, what we may do ; not what we've done, 
 Let these be survivors till our journey is run 
 Onward, and onward. 
 
 O, the errors and sorrows, the tears and the sighs, 
 
 Of a life burdened journey 'neath the unheeding skies. 
 
 Speed onward ! still onward, O Time, in thy flight ! 
 
 Let the flashes of thy footsteps throw forward the light 
 Onward, still onward. 
 
 May the shadows of the night still benignantly fall, 
 Till oblivious-drawn curtains be the merciful pall ; 
 Let the past be wrapped in the unyielding shroud ; 
 From the future be the lightened and uplifted cloud. 
 
 Onward ! still onward, OTiine, in thy flight ; 
 Serenely, supremely in majesty's might. 
 
 O, the past ! with its sigh.-, with its cries and its tears ; 
 With its sorrows of childhood, with its life blighted years. 
 
 Onward, O, onward; Time hasten thy flight ! 
 
 Be the past deed buried in an unwakmg night. 
 
 Ah, life ! 'Tis a cry, then a laugh, then a tear. 
 Ah, life ! 'Tis beyond ; aye, beyond ! 'Tis not here. 
 And this my comfort, my solace and cheer. 
 
 Then haste thee, O Time ; O, hasten thy flight ! 
 
 In the womb of the future would I rest me to-night. 
 
 Let the sun gild thy pathway, let the stars lend their light. 
 Let the moon's gentle beams speed onward thy flight ; 
 For I am weary of life's toilings, its struggles and tears, 
 I'm weary of the burthens of life's waning years. 
 
 O, hasten thy footsteps ! Haste onward, O Time ! 
 Bear me hence safely on in thy mercy sublime 
 Restfully, trustfully, to the Presence Divine. 
 
 J. C. PEI/TON. 
 
 * Since nervous prostration twenty years ago, the writer has known not 
 one moment, day or night, without painmost of the time an insupportable 
 nerve torture in my brain. .TCP 
 
Disguise. 
 
 Disguise ? Beneath the wide, o'erreaching skies, 
 What find we clad in no disguise ? 
 Nor need this cause a sad surprise; 
 
 Entirely useless tears or sigh, 
 
 And fruitless all to question why 
 Why wrong were oft in right's disguise. 
 
 Where e'er we turn in quest the eyes 
 
 Beneath the heaven's o'er-arching skies, 
 
 There nature hath some sweet disguise: 
 
 Behold the rose 'mid thorny shield, 
 
 The treacherous moat with vine o'ersealed, 
 
 The traitorous rocks with flowers concealed. 
 
 Alas ! full oft the placid wave, 
 
 Were waiting shroud for true and brave 
 
 'Neath glassy sheen the caverned grave. 
 
 But list ! Let nature wear a smiling face; 
 Let sunbeams o'er the landscape chase 
 Each cloudy phantom's hurried pace. 
 
 Let lotus blush, in beauty bloom, 
 Let sunshine guild life,s cloudy noon, 
 Let garland wreaths o'erspread the tomb; 
 
 While smiles disguise tear dimning eyes. 
 Let hope relighted 'yond the skies 
 Hail here all nature^ sweet disguise. 
 
 'TIS WELL. 
 
 Ah, yes ! tis well. Aye, all is well. 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, 'twere sweet, the knell 
 
 Its graver chimes with tinkling bell. 
 
 We may not all life's sorrows drown, 
 But nature 'neath her starry crown, 
 Whispers: "With smiles disguise the frown." 
 
 Ah; yes ! 'tis well; forever well ! 
 
 'Tis well, that o'er the threatening cloud 
 
 Sweet Iris flings her beauteous bow; 
 'Tis well that o'er the snow&shroud, 
 
 The sunbeam hath most 'gorgeous glow. 
 
 'Tis well ! Aye, well and all is well ! 
 
 Both earth and heaven respond, '"Tis well ! " 
 
 And echo answers " All is well." 
 
 "Disguise life's ills," full oft too near, 
 Disguise their haunts and dreads and fear, 
 With smile disguise the trickling tear. 
 
 Let sorrow still, like phantoms fly ; 
 
 Let cheer and smile brush tear, hush sigh ; 
 
 Let hope of heaven uplift the eye, 
 
 And then, indeed ; indeed, 'tis well, 
 Amid life's tears and toils, 'tis well ; 
 And heavenly angels chime '"Tis well." 
 
 J. C. PKLTON. 
 
 SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA PRINTING CO!, 938-40 D ST. 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 The first free public school announcement on the Pacific 
 Coast was by J. C. Pelton. 
 
 The first recognition of the free public school system was 
 at my interposition in its behalf. 
 
 The first public school ordinance was drawn at my request 
 by Hon. H. C. Murray. 
 
 The first public appeal in behalf of the common free public 
 school system on this Coast, was made by tongue and pen of J. 
 C. Pelton. The first public school law was written by my pen. 
 
 The first public school report in California will be found in 
 San Francisco's dust buried "Chronicles" over my signature. 
 
 The first public school seal has my humble name beneath 
 its impress. 
 
 The first elected incumbent to the office of Superintendent of 
 Schools of county, and city and county of San Francisco was 
 the undersigned, J. C. Pelton. 
 
 The first organizer and first superintendent of the first Re- 
 form School was J. C. Pelton. 
 
 The organizer of the first San Francisco cosmopolitan school 
 was the undersigned. 
 
 Then, the reorganization of the San Francisco Industrial 
 School two and a half years of unceasing toil and anxiety and 
 care, brought the undersigned at last to be at least among the 
 vState's educators of the present day. 
 
 J. C. 
 
*