PRIVATE LIBRARY OF R. W. WHITTINGHILL m THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES At 20 years of ag Love Among the Mistletoe Poems i AMES B. ELMORB ALAMO, IND.: PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR. 183.Q Entered according to Aft of Congress, in the year 1SU9, )>y JAMES B. ELMORK, In tlie Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, I). (, . TS / * ,35:0? L This book is dedicated to all lovers of good, And to those who admire pure reading. Be sure to peruse it as you should, Observing the lesson* of good breeding. "We give no apology for making things plain, In a modest, graphical way, For nature has done her work just the same 1 , And given our lessons to-day. Mother Xature has been to us a great school, Of which ourselves are a part. There can be no often se, if we stick to the rule, And give the pen-pictures of heart. Xow this we have done for the pleasure of all, And to the inanimate gave life. AVe deem it the best new things to install And give to Dame Nature new life. JAMES B. ELMOKE. 759938 INDKX. PAGE. Preface iii Love Among the Mistletoe 1 Bessie, the Belle of Alamo 48 Scenes in School 49 A Bird s Eye View of a Court Election Scene 50 Simile of Gold and Silver, by Maid and Man 52 The Wrecked Train 54 Alamo 5g The Germ or Nucleus of Alamo ... 5g The Cricket . . 61 Heroes of Santiago de Cuba 62 Indiana 64 Shoe Cobbler 65 The Soul 6& The Shades 67 Jugging Bumblebees 69 Workings of Bees 71 Kaising the Flag. 72 Childish Glee 75 A Back- woods School 77 Alone in the Woods 78 Yountsville 79 A Description of History 81 The Old Sawmill 82 Alcohol 83 Over the Hills to the School House 84 Crawfordsville, alias Athene 86 The Red Bird 87 Soldiers Monument 89 Office-seeking 91 Childhood in the Orchard 92 The Hero 01 Manila 93 The Savior 95 The Editors 97 Election Day 98 Little Dog Fred 99 (v) Yl INDEX. PAGE. A Snovvflake 101 A Hornet s Nest 102 The Cunning, Covetous Jew 103 The Ragaedy Gal 100 The Wells Tragedy . . . . "108 Maxwell Ill The Kissing Bug 114 The Happy Farmer 115 John Chinaman, My Joe 117 The Painter Poet, J. VV. Kiiey 119 Pocahontas 120 Hans Spailgens Hen 122 The Robin 124 Our Flag 126 A View of Nature 127 Kind Deeds 128 The Monon Wreck 129 A Revival Meeting 133 My Mary of Missouri 134 Money Moves 137 Mary s Lamb 138 Language 139 The Warship Maine 140 Thanksgiving 142 A Country Sawmill Wagon 143 A Characterized School 144 A Country E!<)er 145 Death of D. W. Voorhees 146 The Frog 147 Pearl Bryan s Fate 149 1> >tanical Science 152 The Critic Pro Tern 153 Wabash College 154 Jim Elmore s Best 1"6 Dudes and Sassafras 157 The Country Boy 159 Intel-urban Railway lb 4 The Modern Woodman 165 \Vhen I WKH Young 167 To;i Bir.l 169 Our Father 170 INDEX. When the Pawpaws are Kipe 171 .Stick to Your Calling 17 1 My Sweetheart of Long Ago 171 Jennie s Hide 17i> " The Bard of Alamo " . . . . iSl The Ladies Athenian Club 182 De 01 Plantation 184 Law ton s Brigade 18(> The Poet . . 188 A Sonnet l l .0 Our Baby 1W Life H- Poets are Born, Not Made 1U4 The Buggy 195 "Ben Hur" in Drama ...- H)(i A Sonnet li)!> Acrostic 200 What the lloosier Sees in Chicago 200 Acrostic 20:! Acrostic 204 Sugar-making Song 204 Sugar Making . . , 20(i Acrostic 210 Abige and Turkey Tom 210 Music 211! How Success is Won 217 Envoy 2215 LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. NAMES OF CHARACTERS: John Arno Rival Mrs. Arno Kingston George Hope Servant Fay Larchen Accomplice Cecil Ivy Suitor Violet Payne Queenstown Agnes Percy Accomplice, Oaken Mrs. Payne. Kailroad Station, Fairmount A LOXG a winding river, where grew forests of ** chestnut, magnolia and elm, many years ago, a very rich man settled and "bought a large tract of land, lying on each side of this beautiful stream. He lived here in solitude for a number of years on his vast estate, lying on either side of the great Rock River, stretching for miles up and down the stream, clothed in the most picturesque scenery. But one fine day a son was born to him, and was christened John Arno. He was a very beautiful child, and heir to all the estate. The plantation grew and grew, and became more attractive as a pub lic resort, as the adjoining lands were cleared and made into farms. Around this place a great many incidents cling. The old man and woman were of Quaker descent, and were very odd. They had a kind of an aversion to society, but they built for them- 2 (1) INDIANA. selves a palace on the highest hank of the river, or in other words it was a vast citadel. One had but to look out and behold the river below, with its nar rows and whispering galleries as the winds gently passed by. In this pleasant situation John grew to manhood, playing along the river, hunting pretty shells, and climbing the hills, Avhich teemed with wild flowers, corded grape-vines and mistletoe. He would take his hook and line, and would fish for bass, silversides and gold fish. He would sit on a very large rock in the river, known as the Old Eagle Rock, where the last wild Indian was shot and killed by a neighbor while he was fishing. The Indian incurred the enmity of this man by telling stories of vast lead mines on the plantation, whose location he kept a secret, and by telling how he had killed white people and infant children by taking them by the feet and knocking their brains out against the walls of their houses, and as you know by tradition even back to the ancients. The blood of this Indian is on this rock to-day as it gushed forth and he plunged into the river. John would take long rambles in the woods, and he became acquainted with the different kinds of wild flowers which grew on every knoll and hill. The creeks and rill? rippled over mossy beds and pebbly bottoms which sparkled like diamonds. On the north bank of Rock River was a large cave, LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. known as Hidden Mystery, where oft John and the people would go with lanterns and torches as ex plorers. This cave had many rooms and domes, with sweet waters. The water which trickled down the Avails left them encrusted, which shone all around like stars or mines when exposed to the light of the lan terns. The water which trickled down overhead left spires as clear as crystal, and in the bottom were porous rock and eyeless fish. Xow, John was old enough to go to school, hut he had been born and raised in one of Nature s grandest of art schools in the world. His father determined to send him to school at Boston, where he could add to his natural learning a scientific knowledge and come in contact with the wealth and pomp of the old world among the gay ladies and jeweled princesses. The day came, and John, with his father, embarked on- a steamer for Boston. Down the great Mississippi they go to the Gulf of Mexico, where they embark on a large vessel for Xew York, and thence to Boston. In about a week they are in Boston, and John is sent. to college, where he is to stay five years, or until he is twenty years old. His father goes home and engages in stocks and bonds and pork-packing, and it seemed as though he had the touch of the fabled Midas, as everything he touched turned into the yellow metal. But, as you have learned, this is one of the prettiest places in the world, with its semi-tropical scenery, 4 INDIANA. and it being a favorite watering-place, people from all over the world came on tours of pleasure and en vied the old man his possessions, and young lasses sought the hand of his son. There was a great bridge across Rock River at this place, where people THE CASTLE. would cross and linger for hours and hours looking at the scenery, and the great mansion which overlooked the crowning hill. In these days it was something uncommon to see such a large building in this section of country, and such elevators of stored grain. In the cellar of this grand mansion was everything that LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. man could wish all kinds of fruits and viands. There were malt liquors which had grown old with age, and which had become thick and white like cream, and lost their tart, biting sting, such as epi cures would like to sample. The barrels were cov ered with moss like that on the rock of ages. Xow, this toiling father was growing old, and his very dream was the idol of his son, on whom he wished to bestow all his wealth not only the treas ures of this earth, but the treasures of his heart also. And the mother a meek, gentle woman, polished and mannerly, a very type of beauty and of her race. Tt seems as though wealth is an incentive to bring the beautiful of earth together, which begets beauty until it is in a perfect state, enabling one to grow in ease and pleasure, and therefore grow to manhood and obtain those luxuries and necessities which are builders of symmetry. The mother has impressed upon her son the kind, gentle spirit of her life, and is looking forward to the crowning of her glory. John has now gone to college for two years, and has made many acquaintances, and has looked upon many fair faces. He has been leader in his class, having inherited the will-power of his father, and he has refused the hand of many fair ladies. But in the midst of his success his father dies, leaving nil in his hands: but his mother is to assume control of the estate until he is twenty-one years of age. lie is b INDIANA. called home to the funeral of his father, and stays a week for recreation, and during this week at home he returns to his old playgrounds amidst the hills and vines along the creek, and in one of his rambles he spies a neat, beautiful form standing on the bank of the stream and looking at him. He looks again, and he is bewildered with the brightness of her face. He had never looked upon such a one before. A feeling of love came over him as she tossed at him a red rose that he could not resist. His large blue eyes peered into hers, which were a beautiful brown, and there was such a charm in them that he waded across the stream to greet her, and, climbing up the little hillock, he bowed and introduced himself as Mr. John Arno, of Kingston. She also bowed with courtesy and said: "Miss Violet Payne, of Queenstown/ and her voice closed with a musical Scottish accent which he never forgot that voice he could hear at all times. It was to him like that of the sweet sirens of the lonely isles. The happv meeting was like that which befalls some awful catastrophe. For a moment all was silent while each looked upon the other. Then he said: "Let s take a ramble and cull some pretty flowers. They started off on a tour of the hills and valleys, seeking the pretty flowers and shells, and walked along Echoing Glen, whose upright walls rebounded the human voice, and where the wild pheasants beat LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. upon their breasts with their wings, which seemed like the distant sound of some primeval drum. Then as they retraced their steps the quail whistled a signal of approaching eve, and the whip-poor-will darted here and there. On arriving at her carriage they agreed to correspond with each other when he arrived at school and she at her home. Then the driver was ready, and a crack of the whip sent the carriage roll ing away over the pike, while he stood in low spirits, watching the one object of his mind vanish out of sight. lie returned to his home at Kingston late in the evening. His mother discovered that he did not act with as much high spirits as usual, but she supposed that it was owing to the death of his father and his having to return to school on the morrow. He as sisted his mother with her work as best he could, and appeared to be as cheerful as one could under the circumstances. His mother noticed, too, that there was an expression of absent-mindedness in his de meanor, and she meditated herself as to the cause of it. She thought that if her son appeared so at school that he would do no good, but she hoped and trusted for the better. John went to bed with a light heart, and he coiild hear that vessel beat and throb at his breast with greater ardor than usual. He lay on his bed with his mind s eye placed upon the object which he had INDIANA. seen across the (lowing river and standing like a statue on the little hillock. But as his anxiety was worn away he passed into deep repose, thinking little of the future. That hed was to him like the bed of shamrock and roses to the daughter of Daniel O Connell on the banks of the Sharon in the Emerald Isle. But on his awaking he felt like he was trans ported from a land of sweet dreams, and went about greeting his mother and getting his many things to gether for his return to school. His mother tried to be in his presence as much as possible, for she knew how long two years of absence would be, and as she was getting old she might not survive that time But all seemed well for the time. She knew she would have to spend her time with the servants and make the most of life, for her husband, Mr. Arno, was a cheerful man, jolly and sociable. The time for his departure had come, and George, the old servant of the family, who had been so good and trusty for so many years, had the best team of roadsters hitched to take him to the station. lie walked out to the carriage, while his baggage was carried by the servant. His mother followed to bid him good-bye, and to give him a check for $500. his yearly allowance set apart by his father. As he took the clK ck he shook hands with his mother, and tears stood in his bright blue eyes so large that they dimmed his sight, and his mother could scarcely bear LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 1) up under the sadness of heart. (Jem-ire had already seated himself in the carriage, and John, springing in, seated himself by his side. As George pulled the reins they are off immediately. It is twenty miles to the station, but John gets George to go by way of Queenstown, which is about five miles out of the way, so that he may see the home of Violet, and, if po-sible, get a glimpse of her. George wonders why John wanted to go that way, but hesitated to interrogate him. About a mile north of Queenstown is a quaint little cottage, surrounded by chestnuts and evergreens, and whose lawns were decorated with smilax, honeysuckles and chrysanthe mums. It recalls to one the scene of Maud Muller s beautiful country home, as portrayed by the artful mind of Whittier. As they approach this lovely place they behold a beautiful little cottage, like that of a shepherd in Scotland. George notices that John is restless, and is constantly looking in the distant yard. Violet is near where the lambkins are at play, amus ing herself with these gentle animals. They are driving very fast, and John salutes her with his hand kerchief; but she does not fully recognize him, but thinks it resembles the heir at Kingston. George for the first time has his suspicion aroused, for he too saw the beautiful physique of the lady, which to him was an ideal of symmetry. They speed along, and John gives George a faint idea of his friendship s 10 iXDlAN A. episode, trusting him to keep the secret. Xo\v. this was like a bomb to George, as he had never seen John in the company of ladies. They arrive at the station: it is after noon and the train is on time, and their words of parting are few. He hands to George a sweet-scented Havana cigar, and requests him to give his mother his best love and esteem, and asks him to k"eep his secret. The train has now arrived; they shake hands, and John is off for the Mississippi and George to the grief-stricken home, where lie finds Mrs. Arno awaiting his arrival, and the incident? of her son s departure. When everything is attended to they seat themselves and George relates how cheer fully they made the trip, and how John got on the train and it glided off with the wings of a bird. But lie never once hinted of the beautiful peasant home which they had passed. Mrs. Arno was a kind, gentle woman, and had no dislike for the poor or those who were less fortunate than herself. But she well knew the position wealth placed one in in society, and so she desired her son to marry a lady of wealth. She went about her work in the same industrious manner that she had always done, and George had to assume the responsibility and care of the estate under her supervision. Jn a few days John arrived at school, and went about his work with ardor, for he was ambitious and filled with zeal. He met all his old friends and LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 11 treated them a* best lie could in the condition he was placed by the death of his father and the parting of his new acquaintance. He assumed rather the habits of a Thoreau, but he was always at the head of his class. The time passed away very fast, and one even ing, while meditating, he resolved to write to Violet, and, seating himself at his table, which was stre\vn with the sophomore s books, he attempted to write her a letter, hut their acquaintance was so brief that he hardly knew what to write. So he wrote a neat letter of friendship, rehearsing their first meeting and their ramble over hills and valleys, which he so much en joyed, and would some time in the future be pleased to see her again, and of the favorable impression he had formed of her. He also related to her his long trip, and how he went from place to place until he arrived at Boston. He requested her to write soon, and closed with these beautiful lines: How sweet it is to me, I find, To live in hearts we leave behind. Your friend, JOHN ARNO, Boston, Mass. In due time Violet received this letter and read it with care, noting everything, even the style and ex pression. She kept it all a secret, for she had a fel low by the name of Cecil Ivy, who had been courting 12 INDIANA. her for a long time, and who was well-to-do and very good looking, and who had many friends, and of whom Violet thought very well. She made up her mind to write Mr. Arno a letter, thanking him very much for the high esteem in which he held her, and acknowledging the receipt of his very welcome letter. She told him of her trip home from Rock liiver, and how she admired the grandeur of the scenery, and she closed by soliciting an answer and signing: Your friend, Miss VIOLET PAYNE, Quecnstown, lenn. She has a lady friend by the name of Fay Larchen in whom she places confidences, and often trusted her with her secrets. In a few days she meets Fay, and they go for a ramble in the orchard near the old well, where the ancient shadoosh overhangs the curb, with a moss-covered vessel attached to the end of a pole, the like of which would suggest a good place to tell one s secrets. Here Violet narrates to Fay her trip to the river, her meeting of John Arno and their pleasant walk, and her promise to write to him when he arrived in Boston. She shows John s letter, and Fay is so fascinated with it that she wants to write to John, as Violet already has a gentleman friend. Violet does not consent, although she thinks well of Cecil, and trusts all will be well. Fay, bemg de feated in her wish, confides her secret to Cecil. which LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 13 is bound to create a jealousy. Cecil now goes to see Violet, who seems to be as cheerful as ever and treats him with as much courtesy. But he pushes his suit more than ever, and accuses her of another gentle man friend. She acknowledges the receipt of a letter, but that twas only a friendship one. Cecil makes greater appeals of love, and asks her hand, but she withholds her answer. He still comes to see her, and her mother tells her that she is getting old. and that she will need an arm upon which to lean, when she is gone; also, Fay tries to induce her to accept, but she can t decide. Violet now sees a rival in Fay, if she but gives her the opportunity. So she is a little shy until she is more settled in her mind. But during this time she receives another letter from John acknowledging the receipt of hers. He is now some encouraged, and has recovered from home affairs, and his pen glows with a gentle ripple of harmony. lie tells her how he is getting along, and hopes he may be home soon. He closed again with a few lines on tbeir first meeting: The day that T stood beside the brook, And thou stood on the hill, I gave but one mild, gentle look, Whilst thou stood still. Answer soon. Your friend, JOHN AKNO, Boston, Mass. 14 INDIANA. Violet -does not show this letter, and Cecil comes on and presses his suit, and Violet does not know ex actly what to do. She knows that Cecil loves her, but she is not certain about John, as he has been very delicate, and she does not know that she is the only lady friend he ever had. Cecil asks her to take a drive out to Rock River, and she consents. The day is set, and they drive. out. They go up and down the river, and view Paradise Alley, where the scenes are as beautiful as the word implies, with its little stream flowing ovei shining pebbles, and a narrow path extending along each side, with such pretty mosses and banging vines iliat one nearly loses consciousness. While here, Cecil thinks he may overcome her obstinacy, and he talks of the future, and his love for her, and hopes she maycon- sent to his proposal; but she drops the conversation by alluding to their pleasant surroundings. They pass on and come to Pleasant View, where they as cend a little mound opposite a beautiful cascade, whose waters fall about twenty feet and turn in a boil below, forming a white foam, and a gentle zephyr carries a mist into the air, on which is mirrored all the prismatic colors of the rainbow. In this picturesque place Cecil says in his heart: "This world would 1 give 1 , were it mine, for the hand ol \ iolet." (leorge, the old servant, is looking over the estate, and sees these two young people, and LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. watches them. He thinks he recognizes the form he *aw at the peasant cottage, and he knows by their actions that they are lovers. They pass on ond arrive at a cliff, where the old eagles are feeding their young, and the whole cliff seems to be perforated or honey combed. Then they arrive at the little hillock where she first met John Arno, and she pauses and looks down upon the spot where he stood, gazing in space, speechless, thinking: Was it true, or is it only a fancy, such as lovers are apt to have?" Cecil notices this, and he is spellbound to know what it means. Violet sees in her mind s eye that tall, graceful form standing there, and says to herself, "I would he could be there now." George, by this strange incident, is certain that it is Violet, and that there is a strain upon her mind something that is clothed in mystery or hidden in the deep recesses of the soul. Cecil and Violet pass on, but Violet is not cheerful, and they go to the carriage and return home. Cecil docs the talking, while she is meditating, only now and then assenting to what he says. They part at the gate with the same friendship as before. Cecil has ac cused her of her love for some other one, but she keeps her secrets. He goes home and gets Fay Lar- chen to visit Violet, and they repair to the old swing in the orchard to talk over old times, and Fay tries to solicit Violet to tell her more about John; but Violet is wise in her own counsel, and she is reticent. 16 INDIANA. Then Fay shows the good (jualities of Cecil, and Violet admits its being so. Fay also talks to Violet s mother, and tries in that way to find out something. But as yet she knows little of Violet s meeting John. Ueorii e, the servant, writes to John what he saw, and tells all he knows about the circumstances, and de scribes the man which he saw with her the best that he can, and about her standing on the little hillock, taxing on the shoal of pebbles, mussel and periwinkle shells. It has been some time since Violet received a letter, and she no\v, since she has taken the pleasure trip and has been relieved from the pressure of fi lends, seats herself to write to .John. She relates her trip to 1 ock River and the pleasant time she had, and recalls the place of their first meeting so long ago. She tells how many young people she saw boating and moving slowly down the stream with the current, and the gay laughter that echoed in her cars. But she never once says a word of her gentleman friend who accompanied her. She makes herself appear as happy as possible, and hopes he is so in the Hub City in a whirl] tool of society, and closes with a very friendly greeting. Little does she know of the strain on his mind to get an education and become famous, and of his seclu sion from society. He has received George s letter some days before, and he knows, when he receives LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 17 Violet s letter, that George i.s true and faithful, <;nd that he really saw Violet at the dell-. John i.s wor ried about the gentleman that George saw with her, hut he makes up his mind never to say a wovd to her ahout it, and trusts to silence as the best road to long friendship, as it will bo more manly and let his affections pass to her heart as the seraphs take their flight from earth to heaven. And he well knows, in the language of Shakespeare, that "light winning makes the prize light. So he studies on, with a little fear in his heart lest he fail in his love. ITc writes to his dear mother and George, telling hi> situation, and how he is advancing in hi- studio-, and speaks of his being well, and thanks George for his many fa\or* so that his mother will not understand what he ha< reference to. lie now writes to Violet, acknowledging the receipt of her ever-welcome letter, and the happiness which it gave him to hear from her and that life was a pleasure to her. But he thought that he needed some assistance to counteract Fay in her work for Cecil. So he writes to his cousin. Agnes Percy, at Oaken, a nice letter, and sends his picture, requesting her to go and make the acquaintance of Violet and to give her the picture, and tell her of his deep love which he has for her, and to see if Violet returned his affection. Xow, Agnes was a good messenger, for s-he was well received by Violet, and her very face bore the impres- 18 INDIANA. sion of confidence , and, as you know, when one is in love and troubled, they are low-spirited and apt to tell secrets. They went to the orchard, so as to be alone, and to talk together. Agnes drew from her bosom the photograph of John and handed it to A iolet, who, on recognizing it, pressed it to her lips and kissed it. Then she leaned over and embraced Agnes. This act sealed their friendship. Agnes knew well that Violet loved, and as she was John s cousin, she no longer hid it from her. She told Agnes that she loved Cecil, but had not consented to his proposal, and that she thought well of John also, but that she did not know whether he would return her love. So Agnes told her how much John was infatuated with her, and to wait awhile before she made up her mind, and that John was delicate on such matters, and ^how he had solicited her to assist him, and that she thought him in earnest. So Violet said she would defer answering Cecil for some time. Then Agnes returned home and wrote to John what she had done and what she had found out. Then John thought.that he was all right if he could come home soon. His school will soon close, and he will be one of the best in his class, and he can begin life for himself with honor. Cecil kept on going with Violet as before, and kept the same old struggle in her heart alive. She did not feel like casting him off, for fear of the worst, and so it Ulled her very soul with gloom, and her mother sug- LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 19 gested that Cecil was all right and would make a good husband, but Violet said nothing, which only made her the more miserable. Her heart burst to tell her secret, but she dare not. If she could but see Agnes and relieve herself of her load, she would give all she possessed. She would get in the carriage and go, but she would have to pass Cecil s home, and that would give her away: so she must smother the burning flame within her breast. School is now about to close, and John s mother is sick, and he is anxious to return. John s mother re called to George the sadness of her son when he left home, and wondered why it was. George remarked that it might be a love affair,Jbut said no more. As the school neared a close, days were as months. His mother was growing weaker, and John must go home to see her. George notifies him of his mother s con dition, and informs him that she is only convalescent, and to fear not, for he will care for her. John remains at school until its close, and gradu ates. He then packs his things for home the dear est spot to him on earth! No one knows what home is until away in a distant land, and let remorse come over them, or get disheartened and John has experi enced all of this. His goods are expressed to the wharf, and John embarks on a great Atlantic steamer for Xew Orleans, where he takes a Mississippi steam boat for home. He arrives at Fairmount station, and 20 INDIANA. George is there, according to a prearrangement which they had consummated. John asks George to go hy way of Oaken, so that he may see Agnes and learn all ahout Violet that he can. They arrive at Oaken and they go in, and his cousin and aunt are glad to see them. John asks Agnes ahout Violet, and Agnes tells him she is the finest lady she ever met, so nice and accomplished., but that he may have hard work to win her, and that Cecil is still keeping her company. Agnes tells him she Is a perfect type of womanhood. John then requests Agnes to- visit Violet frequently, and to give her his hest respects, and inform her of how much admiration he has for her, and that he will he very reticent, and that he thinks he can succeed hettcr in that way, as it will deceive Cecil and Fay if lie is not seen ahout Queenstown. It will he hard for him to stay away, hut he has great will-power and can control himself in that matter, lie also requests her to visit him soon at Kingston, and that his mother will he glad to see her. lie then starts for home, where he finds his mother improving in health, and she is very glad to see him, and to give the management of the estate over to him and relieve her mind from its care. The mother is glad to know that her son is a graduate, and thinks she sees a hright future before him, for, as Solomon has said, "A wise son maketh a glad father," it follows that the mother would he glad also, LOYK AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 21 John looks over the estate to see what is needed, but his mind is not content, and he often finds him self wandering as if in dreamland. He has never been in such a condition before, and he thinks it is on account of his affection for Violet, and he is contem plating as to how he will propose to her, and he wants to do it in the best manner that he possibly can. He sends for Agnes to come and visit him at the castle, and then he thinks he may see some way out of the difficulty. George is dispatched for Agnes, and told to call on Violet as he returns, and have Agnes to converse with her and tell her of his unrest of mind, and that he must see her soon. AYhen George reaches Agnes s house she is as happy as a lark and pleased to make the visit. Her mother assists her to get ready and gives her permission to stay for a fortnight. When they are ready they are off for the visit. They soon arrive at Violet s home, and find the same grand personage busy with the things about her home. Violet welcomes them in, and George makes the ac quaintance of Mrs. Payne and converses with her while Agnes talks with Violet, and speaks to her about John and his condition of mind, and says that she may send for her while she is at the Arno castle, and she consents to come. Violet sends her best respects to John, and her picture. Mrs. Payne thinks strange of this proceeding, and begins to question Violet about their calling: but she has a level head, and avoids the 22 INDIANA. matter by telling her mother that it was only a friendly visit. But Mrs. Payne is not perfectly satis fied in her own mind. Cieorge and Agnes go on to the Arno home, and find John and Mrs. Arno very glad to see them. What a bright, cheerful girl Agnes is! It makes one happy to he in her presence, and Mrs. Arno is much better by Agnes s coming to see her. As soon as Agnes and Mrs. Arno converse awhile, John seeks an opportunity to speak to her about Violet. They go to the parlor, and while looking at the pictures on the center table John asks about Violet. Agnes tells John that Violet sent her best respects to him, and, opening her valise, took out a picture and gave it to him, and a mingled feeling of surprise and wonder came over him. His mind is carried back by the beautiful photograph to the little hillock where first he saw her standing like a beautiful flower which the dew of morn had caressed, and, standing among these beautiful environments, the brilliant rays of the sun only added splendor to the scene that he beheld; and, recovering himself, he said: "Agnes, this is the most beautiful picture that I ever saw. It is so like Violet so anodest, so charm ing. She is the only lady that I ever met whose personal appearance has had such a control over me. She has changed my whole life. You know how I used to ramble in the woods and dells by myself, and LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 23 perfectly liappy: but now 1 am not. I must see Violet soon, or I fear that Cecil will overcome her and make my life miserable. I have trusted to you, Agnes, my most profound secrets, and relied on you to secure the information which would win me the prize and make me happy. I hope you have done all you could, for there is no other person I would like to trust so well." Agnes thanks him for the confidence which he places in her. She assures him that what she tells him is true, and that he can win her if he only pro ceeds in earnest before she would consent to wed Cecil, and that she has been delaying to answer Cecil to hear from him. So he arranges to go and see her and find out some of her parentage, and become better convinced of her beauty and surroundings. So he gets ready and goes on Thursday. He thinks it is a lucky day, and that he may avoid meeting Cecil, as he would be likely to be there on Sunday, for he has not ceased to woo her. When John arrives he sees her at a distance water ing the beautiful lawn which surrounds the nrat little country home. She knows him, and quits her work and comes to meet him. They greet each other very cheerfull} r , and talk of the pleasant day, and of the most cheerful things one could think of. She tells him she is so glad that he came, as she had wanted to see him for so long and talk of their first happy meet- 24 INDIANA. ing, which seemed to her like a miracle. He cannot help l.)ii t show his appreciation of her, and she knows full well how to act, which adds to her personal charms. He is invited into the house and introduced to ]\Irs. Payne, who receives him with kindness. This is the first time she has ever seen him, hut now she knows what has made Violet act so strange with Cecil. She can t help hut admire the manly courage and conversation of John. His very demeanor is par excellence, which makes him attractive to anyone. 3Irs. Payne converses with him awhile, and then retires from the room and leaves Violet alone with him. They spend the time pleasantly, talking of the many beautiful things which they saw the day of their ramble along the river. John relates many things which occurred at Boston during his stay there, and the life of one in the city, and of the gay people in their gaudy dre^s. But presently the conversation changes to friendship affairs. John relates to her that he has heard that she has another suitor, and she acknowledges that she has, and that he is nice, kind and agreeable, but that she has greater admiration for him than Cecil, and that she did "not desire to mistreat him, and that she only used courtesy in go ing with him. John acts in his selfsame manner, and says no harm of Cecil, as some rivals are won! to do John i< perfect in the art of reading human nature, and knows that the least said the easier mended, and LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 25 that stillness makes a Aviso head. It is in this way that he has had such an influence over the object of his love, for she could not resist his manly composure, for it Avas a tell-tale expression which lingered long in her heart. It shows that it is true that persons, on meeting, either like or dislike. There are certain features that charm the Avindows of the soul Avhich cannot be resisted, lie does not ask her to quit going with Cecil, but leaves that to her pleasure. He says that he may give her an invitation to visit him at the castle Avhile Agnes is there, and she says she Avould he pleased to do so, and says that she admires the scenes along the river, and especially the great bridge, Avhere she had stood for hours and hours watching the fish jump up out of the Avater. He requests her not to tell anyone of his visit, and that stillness is the best, and that it Avill allay gossip. He speaks Avell of her widowed mother, and thanks her for the kindness Avhich he had received at her home. Then he gets ready to return home, and Violet goes with him to the gate, Avhere they hid each other good-bye in the way which is the custom of lovers. John leaves no en gagement, as he expects to see her at his home some time soon. He returns home better pleased than ever, as he thinks that lie is all right. He tells Agnes ail about how <he received him, -and that she is the means of his success, and that she still must assist him, and that 26 INDIANA. he has made arrangements for Violet to visit them while she is with them. "Good!" says Agnes. "When do you expect her? "I do not know/ said John. "I intend to send 3 m after her." "I would be pleased to go," said Agnes. ISTow, Agnes is the means by which John seeks to get Violet to come to their home. John s mother is not so well as usual., and detains her son about the house, which affords him an opportunity to plan with Agnes for Violet s coming to see them. Cecil goes to see her on Sunday, and is treated very kindly, and he spends a pleasant evening, and talks very affectionately; but Violet tells him she has not yet made up her mind. She does not tell him of John s visit, and does not intend to now; but she fears Fay may find it out. She has confidence in Cecil, and thinks if John proposes she can make things all right with him, as he is a perfect gentleman. Her mother thinks strange of her keeping company with two such nice gentlemen, and says she had better let one go; but she uses her own pleasure in the matter. Cecil returns home happy and calls on Fay, and asks her to visit Violet at her first opportunity and get any information that she can, thinking that some word may be dropped that he may interpret for his good. Fay goes immediately to visit Violet, and find^ her as cheerful as usual. They talk at the house for LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 27 awhile, and then they repair to the grove near by, where everything is lovely, and there talk things which they desire to he kept a secret. They talk of their friends and old times, which they desire to re call as they grow older and they see the world or themselves are changing. They realize that time is fleeting, and that they are transformed from girls to womanhood, and that their minds are changing from trivial things to reach out and grapple with the world. At this point of the conversation Fay speaks of their lovers, and she asks Violet if she thinks of Cecil as a future companion, and Violet says she has not yet de termined, as that is a serious matter and must have some reflection. Fay, in a neat way, speaks of Cecil s character as being good and above reproach. Violet lets the conversation on this line drop, and speaks of the coming fashions, and what she would like to have for an outing dress. It is now evening, and Fay must return home, defeated in her purpose. She bids Violet good-bye, and asks her to visit her. Violet says she will, and asks her to come again. Violet is now left alone, and she meditates as to how hard it is to withstand the pressure of friends and the cunning devices which are sometimes used which reach to one s very soul. She loves Fay, but thinks she is trying to pry into her secrets for a par- pose. Violet goes about her work, and speaks to her mother about Fay making such inquiries about her 28 INDIANA. affections for Cecil. She tells her mother how she answered her, and her mother told her she had done all right. In a short time there is a carriage at the gate, and a man and a lady alighting. She cannot think who it is. She watches closely to ascertain who it is, but presently the doorbell rings and Violet opens the door. Tli en she recognizes Agnes and George. She shake.? hands with George and kisses Agnes. She asks them to be seated. Her mother comes in and recognizes George as one who used to accompany Mr. Arno when he used to buy stock, and Agnes she knows, as she only lives a few miles away. After they pass the time of day they talk of social matters and the pleasant ride they had just taken, when Agnes relates to Violet that John had sent for her to come over with them to the Arno castle. She says that she will do so with pleasure, and speaks to her mother about it. Her mother grants her request and assists her to got ready. Everything is as pleasant as possi ble, and Agnes does what she can to assist Violet to get ready to go. Violet s mother thinks all may not be well, and meditates what to do. So she picks up courage and asks if she may accompany them. Their hearts beat with joy as they tell her certainly, she will be welcome. So they set about to assist her to get in readiness to go, and she makes arrangements to stay for a day or two, as she does not know how long they LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 29 may be gone. When all is ready they repair to the carriage, and Violet and her mother occupy the rear seat, and Agnes and George in front. One could not help but admire Agnes, for she is as cheerful as a lark on a June morning, and her mind flits from one thing to another as they glide along over the pike. There are many beautiful landscapes as they pass along, and Violet is able to explain them all to her mother, for she has seen them many times before. It is a long ride, but the horses are fleet and they go along very lively. They speed along, up hill and down, and over the level plain, and the pleasant conversation of the young people recalls to Mrs. Payne very vividly her childhood days, when she too was fond of such excur sions. They soon come in sight of the great resi dence of the Arnos, situated on a distant hill amidst picturesque scenery. There is a great chasm between them and the residence, where runs the clear waters of Rock River, spanned by the great bridge where Violet had been many times before, and of which she had told her mother; but she had never been at the residence on the hill, where now she was going. They soon must cross the bridge and reach their destina tion. The horses feet are now popping on the bridge, and they look out and see some one looking at them. Violet is certain that she knows who it is, but she says nothing. They reach the ascent and wind slowly up the hill to the iron gate, where John is 80 INDIANA. ready to receive them. John now sees that he is cap tivated, and repeats these beautiful linos: Here on the hill doth stand The stateliest mansion in all the land, .A fairy home with lawns of green, Where reigns a peasant romance queen Not alone of flowers and dells, But of the heart of one as well. They are invited in and introduced to Mrs. Arno, who is still convalescent, but she asks them to lay off their things and make themselves comfortable. Mrs. Arno is surprised with the beauty of Yiokt, and at the attention which her son pays to her. The bouse is beautifully arranged and furnished in grand style. It is nicer than Violet has ever seen. Mrs. Arno sets herself about entertaining Mrs. Payne, and they be come warm friends. She leaves the young people to take care of themselves. They seat themselves around the center table and look at the pictures, and Violet comes to one taken when a boy, and looks it over and over. John remarks: "That is your friend." "So I see," said Violet. Agnes is as gay as ever, and now and then gets in a bit of fun. John thinks it is near time for him to propose, but his heart ebbs quite low. and he thinks that he can hear it beat against his breast. Agnes can see that there is a struggle going on in John s breast, and would leave them alone if she could excuse herself, Jt is nearing meal time, LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 31 and she has to assist, so she gets an opportunity for retiring from the room. John talks away more affectionately than ever, and Violet receives it with pleasure. They are by them selves until dinner time. John and A iolet are in vited out to dine, and Agnes, to play one of her jokes, has arranged to seat John and Violet together, while Mrs. Arno and Mrs. Payne are seated at the head of the table, and Agnes sits opposite to John and Violet. The viands are served, and all are cheerful. Agnes now and then takes a look at the young coupie, as if to say, "How pretty you are! You resemble two young doves on the 14-th of February." All this is flitting through her mind, and John and Violet can read it all, but it only adds beauty to the occasion. All this cunning mischief seems to be good morals, for it is a part of human nature, and Agnes has more than her share of such fun. When dinner is over they repair to the parlor, and Agnes excuses herself to assist in clearing the table and to wash the dishes. Now, the two old people seem to have strange feelings coming over them, but neither speaks to the other about it. They think Providence has thrown these two people together, but do no-t dream as to how it will terminate. While they are left alone the spark of love shines out brighter and brighter. John desires to be manly, and thinks some favorite scene of hers of which he 32 INDIANA. lias learned would be the best place to ask her hand, and where they can be all alone. You have possibly learned that the pulse beats at low tide just at such times when true love is bursting the anticipating heart. So John asks her to take a walk, and she ac cepts, and they go down to the great bridge and walk THE BRIDGE ENGAGEMENT. out to the middle of it, where they pause and look at the waters running beneath, a living stream, where it teems with great schools of fish, and now and then one jumps up out of the water and then drops back into the river. Here the shrubbery which lines the LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 33 banks of the stream is a living echo of birds warbling their sweetest songs. It seems to John that they know his feelings and are singing songs of cheer. So in this favored spot he tells her that it is a long lane that has no turn meaning his course in life and that he is thinking of a change. He then asks her if she would be willing to join him on life s billowy wave. She responds, cheerfully: With pleasure." He then raised her left hand and placed upon the ring finger a ring, signifying love without end. He then said: " Violet, you see that we are standing on fins bridge which connects these two great bodies of land above these living waters. So this tie which we have been contracting must plight our hopes forever, bridging over the great chasm where rolls life s raging river." Violet then said: "If storms do come, we know that harmony binds worlds together/ Then they return to the house in settled mind. They seek the presence of the two mothers, where John says: "Mrs. Payne, I desire your daughter s hand in nmr- riage." She is somewhat surprised, but says: "If it pleases you." John turns to his mother and says: "Mother, I have not consulted you, but I know you have always desired me to be happy, and I know you could not object to my betrothal to Violet." 34 INDIANA. "My son, I had desired you to marry a lady of wealth, but beauty is much ir.ore desirable with a con tented mind than treasures of gold. So, my son, you have done well." The two families are united. They talk over the wedding day and other arrangements, and agree to marry at the Arno home, for it is large ai-d com modious. They speak of the bridesmaids, and Violet selects Agnes as one, and John is at a loss to know who to select as a groomsman; so Violet asks how Cecil, her old lover, would do. John consents to him if he will accept of the duty. But she is in a quan dary as to how he will receive her engagement to John, but. however, she will try and see when all the arrangements are settled. The carriage is made ready, and Violet and her mother get ready to go home, and Agnes agrees to stay a few days longer. John escorts Violet and her mother to the carriage. They bid the folks good-bye and seat themselves in the carriage. John is going to take them, so as to make still further arrangements. When they get ready to go Agnes again in her glee says, "Good-bye, pets, " and then they start for home. They arrive at home about noon, and John puts up his horse until after dinner, lie makes the proper arrangements, and they set the wedding day for the second Thursday in June, which would give -them two weeks to make ready. John returns home and LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 35 talks with Agnes about the arrangements which they had made, and requests her to assist Violet to get ready, and she agrees to do so. Agnes gets ready to go home, and George is sent with her. They are to stop at Violet s on the way and see her about the arrangements with Cecil. lie has been over on Sunday evening, and he sees the ring on Violet s finger, and concludes she is engaged, lie does not ask her about it, but she, when an oppor tunity offers, tells him in what high esteem she al ways held him, and could sec no fault in him, but that she was engaged to another who she thought had greater personal charms, and that she still desired his friendship, and that if he would, it was agreeable to have him act as groomsman, by her request. He could not but feel honored, and thanked her, and agreed to her request. She tells him when the wed ding will be, and he gets ready to go home, bidding her good night, lie goes away with a light heart, but cannot think evil of Violet. On the next day George and Agnes arrive, and . Violet sends John word about what she has done, and it is accepted. Agnes goes on home to prepare for the coming event. Violet is to wear a white silk dress, trimmed in lace, and John is to have a black Prince Albert suit, and the room is to be decorated with beautiful Southern (lower-. ("Veil is to bring Agnes, who is to be introduced to him by Violet, and 36 INDIANA. John is to go for Violet himself. It takes a great deal of time to get ready, for there are a great many friends expected, arid ample accommodations must be fur nished for all. When the day arrives, the guests have all heen in vited, and they gather in at the Arno castle to witness the ceremony. The minister is there, and yonder on the hill are two carriages. In the front one are John and Violet and her mother, and behind are Cecil and Agnes. When they arrive they are introduced to the assemblage, and the people vie with each other as to which is the most beautiful couple. When all is ready they take their places under the large flower arch, John and Cecil on the right, and Violet and Agnes on the left. Then the minister steps forward and says the marriage ceremony in a sweet, audible tone. When the ceremony is over, the people pass around and congratulate the young couple, and wish them a happy life, ami the marriage presents are presented to them. Cecil has been as cheerful as anyone, and jestingly remarked: I wish it were Agnes and I." Then that wit of Agnes s again flashed forth: "May it be so." But nothing more was thought of it. John and Violet are to occupy the old homestead and see to the estate. The guests return to their homes, speculating on the affair as to the two beautiful couples. Cecil takes Agnes LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 37 home and leaves an engagement, Yr she really is fond of him. John is now happy with Violet, and wishes to see others happy also. They get Mrs. Payne to agree to live with them, and John sets about improving the estate. There is a great deal more to he done than either John or Violet expected, as they have had little experience in self-snstainance; but they get along very well, for they have studied each other s nature and know full well how to hear and forbear. Violet is anxious to hear from Agnes and know how she is getting along, so she writes her a letter, teiling her how she likes her new home, and how pleasant it is to have a home of her own r.nd to be interested in their own welfare. She likes John s mother very much, for she is a grand old lady, so friendly and sociable. Violet s mother also likes her new home, but cannot forget where she has lived for so many years. She closes by thanking her for past favors. Agnes is glad to receive this letter from her cousin, and to know that she is so well pleased, and that everything is agreeable to her. Agnes relates that her trip with Cecil was very pleasant, and that he held no envy toward her, and that he considered it an honor to be present at her marriage. Fay missed her friend very much, as they were together a great deal, and were nearly like sisters. She also relates that Cecil made an engagement with her, and that 88 INDIANA. she had formed a good opinion of him, for he was so polite and manly. John lias become more like his father, settled in his habits, and making large gains in his business. John s mother sees that he is successful, and she turns all the estate over to him. Violet is now mistress indeed, and shares in all things. She waits on John s mother with much care, for she is getting very feeble, and she tries to make her last days her best ones. Cecil has been to see Agnes, and spent a social evening with -her. That natural wit makes a cheer ful atmosphere to move in, and Cecil found that out at the wedding of John and Violet, when his jest was answered so appropriately. Xow, Agnes is not a lady to trifle with one s affections, and then jilt them. She is only a natural humorist, and the flash words ripple off her tongue like water over a pebbly ledge, and are in harmony with the associability of the company. Cecil thinks himself a conquerer to be able to asso ciate with her. His own turn is in that direction great in the art of entertaining; never t a loss for something to say, and speaks according to ethics. In some this is acquired; in others natural, and is more affable. These twain are natural. Cecil visits Fay, because she has been so kind to him, and she tells him how lonesome she has been since Violet has been married and gone. He relates to her his acquaintance with Agnes Percy, and asks LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE, 39 her to become acquainted with her, and he calls Agnes his "funny girl." Xow, Violet was of a still reflective nature, and so was John Arno. Cecil says he is going over on Sun day afternoon, and asks Fay to go along, and that he will introduce her to Agnes. When the d;iy comes Fay is ready and goes with him. Agnes sees them com;::g and says to 1 erself, "You ll lo:e your sweetheart, Cecil." But not so. lie explains all to her, and she is more than pleased that he brought her. The day is spent in pleasure, and Agnes is queen of the party. It is a high-spirited company, and Cecil thinks the flowers are heightened and more beautiful, and that he himself lias more dignity when in her presence When the day is spent, Cecil leaves a future engage ment and bids Agnes good-bye, and the two ladies do likewise, and Agnes asks Fay to call again. They are soon on the road home, and conversing on the events of (he day and the pleasures which they had enjoyed. Fay savs: "Cecil. Ague- is a pri/e, deli cate and handsome." Cecil is aware of this, and has his cap sot to win her, but does not let it be known, and brings everything to bear in that direction. He knows that she is a cousin of John Arno s, and had lent her influence to him with Violet. But what of that? She had a right to; and Ague- know- by Violet all of Cecil s surroundings, although not acquainted at that time. 40 INDIANA. Cecil is buoyed on by ber graceful manners, and tbeir frequent meetings ripen into real love. There may be love at first sight, but it requires time to dis cover the real and natural outpourings of the heart, such as would cau>e one to cling to another until death would separate them. Cecil and Agnes make arrangements to pay John and Violet a visit at their new home, and see the beautiful resort, and have a pleasure trip. They are surprised at the castle to see Agnes and Cecil. They did not know they were such good friends, but were glad to see them. John treats Cecil with great re spect, which only served to closer attach them as friends. Violet treats Agnes very hospitably, show ing her much courtesy, and remarked: Who s pets now? "Not I," said Agnes; we re lovers. Are you: "Excuse me then, Agnes." "Certainly, you re excusable." All this was pleasing conversation between these fast friends. They all take a ramble along the river, and enjoy it very much. Then Cecil and Agnes re turn home, pleased with their trip, and leave John and Violet to conjecture about them and the outcome of the future. Their courtship ripens into still closer affections, and Cecil is thinking of asking Agnes for her hand and heart. He knows how lively she is. and lie is a LOVE A.MOXG THE MISTLETOE. 41 little delicate about the way he will do that. It is some worry to him, and he knows how cute and cun ning she is, and if not accepted she might reply in a stinging way which would let him down heavy; but then he knows she never tells secrets, and that no one will know what is said. He docs not think she might accept in the same manner, but that would be all the more beautiful, and would be cherished as a remem brance of the past, as all such things are but cheerful reflections. So the court-hip ran along without any more effort of tliis kind, fur it seemed to be a puzzling thing, and Cecil thought nature would provide a way, as it does in everything else, as sometimes thoughtle-s things are signs or omens of (he soul and may be grasped as the truth. "And it may be that I may depend upon this," said Cecil. So he continues spending these social evenings. They walk up and down the road by Mrs. Percy s, until it seems that everything is so familiar that it almost becomes part of their exist ence. Cecil enjoys this, for he is somewhat of a nat uralist and seeks for information, but he never loses his thoughts of Agnes. Mrs. Percy never troubles herself about her daugh ter, only that she sees that she does not keep late hours at night, for she think- that is detrimental to society, as well as bad manners. Cecil is pleased with 42 INDIANA. this, as it lias been a part of his culture to observe the 1 rules of etiquette. As the time whiled by they are seated at the table looking at the ornaments and fancied treasures. It enters Cecil s mind that he will write a few words on a slip of paper which lays on the table near him. lie does not deem it necessary to sharpen the pencil, for it is his mental proclivities which are bothering him just now. So he takes the pencil and writes these words: "I love none other but you." Then he handed her the paper, and she read it with care; and then she readied for the pencil and just beneath it wrote: "And that I see." lie then took the pencil and wrote just beneath: "1 will to you be true." And then she wrote just beneath: "And I to thee." Xo\v, collecting these lines, they read as follows: "I love none other but you," "And that 1 see." I will to you be true," "And I to thee." Xo\v, this was a beautiful ver-e. meaning a threat LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 4o deal, but Cecil wished to be certain about its mean ing. So be said to Agnes: "You are a poet. 1 desired truth, not poetry. "It expresses both," said Agnes. And she then discussed poetry as presenting the true and the beautiful, and that it contained harmony of thought and harmony of purpose with a sweet, gentle rhythm, or else there was no poetry, and that it remained for the poets with the outpourings of the soul to multiply and magnify the beautiful of earth. Then he was satisfied thr.t it expressed the feeling of her heart. And he then raised her left hand and placed thereon the emblem of their hearts. Mrs. Tercy is consulted, and her consent is ob tained; then all is well with Cecil, and they set about appointing a day and a place for the nuptials. They settle as to what they will wear, and leave the day and place for a future time. They think it would be nice if they could be joined in wedlock at the Arno castle, and agree to ask John and Violet if it can take place there. Agnes is to write to them about the matter, and find out and let Cecil know in time to make the required arrangements. So Agnes writes them about it. It is a surprise to them, but it is agreeable. They are pleased to know thai Cecil and Agnes would select (heir home for the wedding. They answer Agnes s letter, and tell her how surprised they are, and that she and Cecil will be welcome to anv- 44 INDIANA. thing which they can do for them. Agnes conveys this gratifying news to Cecil, who then goes to see John, and tells him what he would like to have. John receives him kindly, and arranges the same room for the coming event that he had arranged for himself. Cecil and Agnes will make all the other arrange ments and write to the Arnos about it and tell them the time set for the wedding. John and Violet take li reat pains to decorate the rooms beautifully with flowers and ornaments, and make a large arch of (lowers under which they are to stand. Cecil has many iriends, and all are invited and welcome. The day set for the marriage is a beautiful one, and great preparation has been made by Cecil. The pike leading away from the castle is lined with all kinds of vehicles. At the appointed hour all is in readiness, and Cecil and Agnes are coming in a coach, followed by throngs of people. They arrive and lead the way to the house over the gravel walk which lies between two rows of beautiful Mower beds, which lend their sweetness for their happiness. They are ush ered into the room prepared for them, and they take the place assigned to them amidst throng- of people, and the bridesmaids and groomsmen assume their duties. When the parties are all ready the minister is brought in, and he advances quickly to his task of uniting them by the proper ceremony. The beauty of the occasion is when they are asked if they take LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 45 each other to be husband and wife. The response was low, but it echoed through the room, which caused a solemnity to come over the guests. The couple was beautiful beyond description, and as the guests filed around to congratulate them, you could hear remarks of "beautifful," "grand," "most excel lent." Violet had good taste for art, and had done her best in the arrangement of everything, and every thing presented perfect harmony. Many gifts were brought for them, and the whole presented one grand appearance. John Arno Lad not forgotten the kind ness of his cousin Agnes, and he presented to her $100 in gold, for which they thanked him very much. The company begin to separate for their homes; and how grand to watch them as they filed away down the pike and out of sight! Could Cecil and Agnes help but be happy when John and Violet had done .so much for them? They must be greater friends. The bride and groom are invited to spend the evening at the castle, and they accept. It is the starting of a new life for the young people, and they desired it to be indicative of their future life. On the morrow they return to Mrs. Percy s and arrange to go to housekeeping. Cecil is a merchant at Queenstown, and does a good business. They take a short trip over to St. Louis and spend a few days in pleasure and sight-seeing. Then Cecil re turns to his occupation and purchases a neat resi- 46 INDIANA. dence, and goes to housekeeping. Xever were his prospects brighter or his life more happy. Agnes is pleased with her new home, and think.- herself much exalted by being able to win the heart of such a man. Agnes soon becomes acquainted with city life, and likes it very well. Her winning ways and conversa tion make her a great favorite in city society. Now Cecil goes about his business with more energy than ever, for his mind is free and he is contented. His trade increases, and he accumulates very fast. Violet writes to Agnes to come over and spend a few days with her. It has been some time since she has heard from her. So Agnes gets ready and drives over to see Violet, for she thinks from the tone of the letter she is wanted for some express purpose, and surely it was so, for she wanted to hear from her and know how she was getting along at Oucenstown, for o o o f that was her old home, and she desired to know about the people and their relation to the world. It is a nice trip for Agnes, and gives her a little recreation, relieving her mind from domestic cares. She relates the comings and goings of her old neighbors, which is a pleasant relation of circumstances, and that they have a nice residence on Main street and have it well furnished. When she gets ready to return home Violet asks her to come often, and that she will return the compliment. Agnes goc- back to Queenstown pleased with her LOVE AMONG THE MISTLETOE. 41 visit, and finds her husband glad to receive her, and lie caresses her \vith the -ame kindness with which he had always greeted her. Agnes is the ^anie affection ate lady. ;;nd her short visit only seemed to cemenl them more closely together. Cecil thought, as he pillowed his head upon her breast, what a boon it is to have harmony of affections, harmony of love, and the world move on as one harmonious whole. lie, with his contented he ait, cannot Vanish from his mind the oft-repeated words that "There are as good fish in the sea as was ever caught out." 48 INDIANA. BESSIE, THE BELLE OF ALAMO. In a quiet little village, Where sweet flowers bloom and grow, Roams the fairest of sweet maidens, Christened, the Belle of Alamo. Always ready with an answer, In a manner mild, but low, Just becoming of a lady Like the Belle of Alamo. You can see her at all places, Cheeks quite reddened to a glow, Modestly bowing to her lovers, Bessie, the Belle of Alamo. She is cheerful to a pleasure, Where adversities come and go, Knowing nothing but such kindness Becoming the Belle of Alamo. She never flirts with transient people, Xeither hangs on the gate for show, But allures by charms so graceful, Bessie, the Belle of Alamo. SCENKS IN SCHOOL. -41) You may know her by her beauty, Silver tresses hanging low, Plump in form and mincely stepping, This lady, Belle of Alamo. If you desire to acquaint this lady, AYatch the lasses where e er you go; The mind creates this living beauty, Bessie, the Belle of Alamo. SCEXES IX SCHOOL. As I sat in the halls of learning, I cast at the pupils a glare; Some seemed eager for learning, And others were dead to despair; Some prying over books to gain knowledge, And others whose minds are flying around, Like Ihc wind on the beautiful prairies, Carrying vibrations and emotions of sound Some appear to be created a genius, And the world ovei flows with their care, While clhcrs are debauching their wisdom, And lay like a beast in bis lair. But for those who study books carefully Are treasures of shining bright gold, And io those who lounge about idly Have ignorance obstructing the soul. 50 INDIANA. A BIRD S EYE VIEW OF A COURT ELECTION SCENE. The great judge sat in his easy chair, Deciding all laws points legally fair, Ruling out this and allowing that, While counsel were playing at tit for tat; They addressed the court: "May your honor please," And some one arose and swayed the breeze. "I ll state the case," the plaintiff said, Then from a paper he both spoke and read, And when there came a little lull, Defendants were up to plead in full, And talked at length around about As to how they thought it would turn out. The temple of justice was filled to the wall With shrewd politicians with brass and gall; There was Tom from the village, Jack from the hills, And Doc from the office of bottles and squills; A more motley crowd was never arrayed, And tactics of schemers were readily displayed. At every fence-corner and nook in the street William was intercepted by their wonderful check To hold up the ghost of the shadow of wood, Which seemed to the defendants to be mighty good; There was the whisky-dispenser and man with a jag, And ward politician, the fox for to bag. A BIRD S EYE VIEW OF A COURT ELECTION SCENE. 51 There were ; iiie attorneys to keep i>p the I u ht, And men who believed in buying outright A magnetic person that g:ive no alarm, A descendant of Adam and boss <;f a farm, Twas said distributing of dollars in silver at will To give the old eagle a stamp on the bill." By all of this rubbi-h it does now prevail The rooster was stamped right under the tail, F.xccpt by some persons that plaintitT did meet In mossy apparel and rags on their feet And the poet came in for a share of abuse By one who had on the head of a goose. Some men were drowning and grabbing at straws, Asserting that this and that were the laws, And drinking of water and striding afar, Which sounded like the rattle of a trolley street-car; And this is the way the law mill rolls When merchandise is made of human souls. Tis this woeful shape our country is in, By talking of tariff and using of tin, Bordering right closely to darkest Home, "When people were driven, like a dog with a bone, By patricians who ruled and wielded all power And caused the plebeians to yield and to cower. 52 SIMILE OF GOLD AXD SILYEE, BY MAID AXD MAX. Man: 1 re ; gn supreme upon the earth, T\\as given me by right of birth That I should be the standard power, And all beneath should yield their dower. Maid: Poor thing, what would you be If you could not compare with me Your fanciful exalted form, For which you say that you were born? Man: I know alone I stood at first, Xo power to replenish sacred earth; Xo one to keep me company, To save my schemes from eternity. Maid: I thought you d see that to the strong A helpmate most surely does belong, Partaking of the self-same right, Stamped by the ancient original fiat. Man: But is there no distinction. n:>ne, To this the first-created one: "Who first set foot upon this sward, The image of the eternal Lord? Maid: Xo, there s no distinction, not a bit, So says the sacred holy writ; The covenant says they two are twain From antiquity to end of reign. SIMILE OF GOLD AND SILVER, BY MAID AND MAX. 33 Man; There s no escape from this combination thread Upon which is based the goddess of libel s head, That in the balance they lie side by side, To stay the wheels of the flowing tide. Maid: Whose issue is this to be, Circulating from -ea to sea? Is it not based upon these two, Which carries this co-ordination through? Man: I must acknowledge that in the end That each the other s rights defend; And this is surely the very goal I pon whose issue rests the whole. Maid: So parity is an idle thought As compared to things which God hath wrought; Xo more we ll hear of co-operative money at par. But the rattling wheels of the commercial car. Man: This offspring jointly we must bear, f hased around the world to the teller s bar; It seems to me to the pageant this is fair To adjust this wheel of fortune right with care; Or in other words, I trow, would be the plan, To adjust it equal, like maid and man. 54 INDIANA. THE WRECKED TRAIX. WP boarded the train on the Northern Pacific, The mountain scenery was grand and prolific, To make a through trip to the end of the line, Although in December the weather was fine; The passengers were quite cheerful and laughing As the wheels on the rails to powder were charring. It was a gala day in old Vancouver s Isle, All faces aglow with a pleasant smile. When all are on board a whistle to start, And soon dearest friends are distant apart; We passed through the valley and saw the white plain. Our engine did rally through snow and through rain. We re approaching the mountain and see the white dome. There s a beautiful fountain runs down thro the bone. On nearing the summit there s a whistle for brakes, As she starts like a plummet and everything shakes. To pass over the canyon and down the east slope. The passengers are crying, God, the trestle s broke! The coaches are falling and swinging in air, The passengers are wringing their hands in despair: But the engine is pulling with all of her might While the coaches are swinging, heaven, such a sight ! The coupling is holding the cars like a leech, Suspended in air like a kite on the beach. THE WRECKED TRAIN. 65 T\vo coaches are swinging in the chasm below, And with the sway of the wind they move to and fro. While the train hands are scaffolding the people to save From a horrible death which ends in the grave, The conductor looked out and loudly did call: "Oh. hurry up. boys, I fear she will fall; (Jo brim: on the timbers and lay them across," And most of the time we worked at a loss; Our eyes on the coaches that s swinging o er head, Our veins are all swollen and faces are red; We heave up the timbers without scaffold or sweep I ntil the rude structure the danger line meets. When we climb to the coaches with chisel and sledge And heat on the doors like beating a wedge, The door is broken open, we see them fall out As if they were half dead and moping about; T>ut no one is hurt, not even a scar Is left on their foreheads to show they fell far. When the cars are all empty we sever their ties, She s dashed into pieces, in splinters she lies; Then the train moved forward to a place in the road To receive the bold rescuers and unfortunate load. There s a signal for starting, the smoke s rolling high, We re again on our journey. Old trestle, good-bye! ~)(j INDIANA. ALAMO. When I was young and full of glee, And apt +o wander around Like many a Ijoy I wanted to see A little country town. And to a place I longed to go Whose name was christened Alamo. It was a place to me quite rare, On going with my father there, As oft as I could plead with him To please and let me go again. And thus, you see, I learned to know The road which led to Alamo. And then 1 became an errand boy, Buying things, which was great joy, Coming forth with home again, Better than the grown-up men, Which made my mind so richly glow With all the scenes in Alamo. So well 1 remember the graded school, Where often we did break the rules, And gave the teachers lots to do In dealing with their motley crew, To make us learn that we might show There were irreat men in Alamo. 57 There were three churches in the place, "\Vbere we might grow in knowledge and grace, And worship according to our will The God who gave us all our skill; And long we ve wandered to and fro To behold the town of Alamo. Of a Sunday the bells did chime, Tailing the children from every clime To come and learn a blessed thing Of our dear Savior s suffering, That we be ready when we go To leave in death dear Alamo. And now we re grown to aged men, Scattered all over glade and glen; Some are lawyers, great and smart, Some are preachers to the heart, Some are teachers, not a few, Some are farmers, pure and true. And so you see how riches flow Through the portal- of Alamo. And in the cemetery, east of town, Many a classmate may be found Which has fallen by the grace of Him Who can pardon every sin; 58 IS DIAXA. I ut lie s called thvm when pure and right For to take their upward flight, To meet in heaven far above, Where all is pure and God is love. And so I hope that time may show We may all meet again from Alamo. THE GERM OR NUCLEUS OF ALAMO. Amidst forests and vines of a golden hue A mixed population co-mingled; They tugged and hauled their baggage through, And lived in huts board-shingled. A string and a latch was the bolt of the door, Which was made of oaken slab puncheon, While the earth or rude timbers served as a floor, And corn bread with dried venison made them a luncheon. But the woods disappeared before the strong arm-, As the strokes of the axmcn were falling, And thus there appeared these beautiful farms, An honor to those of their calling. But they needed a town where they could go And buy of those things mostly needed, So Samuel Truax and William Boice christened our Alamo, A beautiful place, now conceded. THE GERM OR NUCLEUS OF ALAMO. In I >.oii or of "Davy Crockett cur lo\vn was so named, \\ !io poured out his life s blood when old and quite hoary; As a gallant swordsman he ll always be famed: Like all of our heroes, he stood for Old Glory. GERM OR NUCLEUS OF ALAMO. A school house was built of ehinken and logs, \Vhere pedagogues stalked, beat and pounded; Xo studying nature or peat of the bo^s, But the old rule of three must be expounded. GO INDIANA. Those days are all o er of fireside lore, And tales of escapes bold and daring; Those primeval times will be never more, Xor the bright shining light of the clearing. A new epoch has come with learning and art. With this structure of wisdom, fine, large and hand some: It is the soul s pride of every pure heart, For learning is free without ransom. The old pedagogue, with his rod and his rule, Is a thing of the past forever and ever; An up-to-date Prof, will fill our new school, Teaching wisdom and languages stylish and clever. But the quaint old bell in its new lower exists Its peals are loud and sonorous; It breaks the sad heart of some pessimists, But joyful is the youth now before us. The poor wooden structure, with windows of gauze, Is displaced by new ones of glass; To enlighten the children has been the whole cause, And the door-latch of wood is now brass. The entering steps, where oft children played, Are now made of long slabs of stone; It isn t the place where we loitered and stayed When dismissed from our school to go home. THE CRICKET. 61 And the chopping of wood Ivy the elderly boys To keep out the cold, chilly air, Is now done away in comfort and joys Tn an edifice all heated with care. But great men have arisen e en all of this, And have filled many places of trust. And more of like calling will not go ami>s If they but brighten and polish the rust. Let us cherish the good and enlighten the soul, And build up a place famed for its grandeur; Tli ere is no other way of attaining the goal In that hoped-for beyond in its splendor. THE CRICKET. Under every bark and litter You can hear the little critter All the dark night long, Singing his busy song K-e-r-t! K-e-r-t! In the musty wheat shock, And under every little rock, The silence is invariably broken By the notes that are spoken K-e-r-t ! K-e-r-t ! INDIANA. hi the mouldering clothes case And the old-fashioned Ihvplaee, You can hear his little note* As from his lips it floats K-e-r-t! K-e-r-t! All among your Sun flay clothes You will find his dainty nose, Looking where to take his toll. And now and then he makes a hole. K-e-r-t! K-e-r-t! In among the apples mellow You will find this noisy fellow, As he bites the appl" peel For to make his d-iinty meal K-e-r-t! K-e-r-t! All among the logs and moss You can hear the little bo>s, And everything where e er you pass. Even in the dewy grass K-e-r-t! K-e-r-t! HEKOES OF SANTIAGO I)E CUBA. Sampson s fleet stood out at sea, Guarding Santiago bay. The Stars and Stripes waved o er it free, While Cervera hidden lay. HEROES OF SANTIAGO DE CUBA. 63 To catch the Spanish in a trap Was planned by llobson s braves; The Merrimac was chose for that She plowed the billowy waves. With seven seamen she sped in port, To quaint old Morro s walls; The Dons stood silent in the fort, Aghast at the captain s calls. They faced the :.liot and shell on shore, And reached the place designed. Amidst the cannons deafening roar And subterranean mines. The ensign o er the collier s deck Said, "Liberty, ye Cuban braves!" When purposely the ship was wrecked, And the world looked on amazed. Oh! our heroes, where are they That took the hazard risk? We -ee them through I be darkened spray, Hurrah! hurrah! to shore they drift. The Spanish captors arc near to them, A shout of deafening roar; Jli-pani ne er ha> seen such men Since lloratius. long before, 64 INDIANA. The thing is done. Cervera s fate Will tell Alphonso s \voe. While Sampson holds the bottled fleet, Our Miles will charge the foe. The end is near, and Spanish reign, With blood and stench and crime, Will be avenged for the battle Maine Forever and all time. INDIANA. On the plains of Indiana, Where the wild flowers gently wave, There the farmers in their splendor Do the golden cereals raise. There is lands of various dimensions, From the valleys to the hills, Many streams that are rippling, Xear by which we build our mills. We have prairies, we have woodlands, Richest treasures ever stored; And far down in the interior Xatural gas we have in hoard Quite enough to run our factories Just as long as wheels may roll, And as you are nearing Anderson, There s the richest of the goal. SHOE COBBLER. 65 Through the center runs the AYabash, AVith its rich alluvial soil; From its source unto its ending Many sturdy farmers toil, Xot alone with bone and sinew, But a little more at ease, Like unto our honored statesman, Whose giant speeches always please. This is not all that I can tell you: AVe re the gateway to the AYest, And must be crossed by many tourists Hunting places where to rest From the cares and toils of business, AA hich they ve followed many a year, Storing up a little fortune For old age and later cares. SHOE COBBLER. The cobbler sits on his leather stool, And thongs the best he can; He blows his horn and turns about, And chafes the end of man. He is a perfect weather-cock, And can tell the wind and time; He pounds away on flattening-rock, And spends his force of mind. 66 INDIANA. He sits amidst old rancid shoe- A splendid scent and savor; Twould give an epicure the blues To smell this foot-made flavor. "When his race is rim and he is done A -men ding of old soles, He s laid away for another day A subject for the ghouls. THE SOUL. The soul is immortal, we cannot tell why, Unless it has come from God in the sky. In death it is separated from this body of ours, To go to its keeper in a mansion of towers, Where ail on a level will soar without wing>, To dwell in a city a kingdom of king?. The wheat is separated away from the chaff, While the wicked are left to mock and quaff. We images will be in our bodily form, Preserving identity, although newly bom. The power of communion invested in we, Conversing with brothers we ve longed to see. We ll meet those old martyrs, gone long before To dwell with their Savior, and open the door For the sheep of the shepherd who have striven in vain To reach those green pastures where purity reigns, THE SHADES. 67 A description of heaven was given to thee By St. John on the Patmo-, an isle of the sea. He saw the rich treasures and emerald stone, The mantling robes around the great throne, AVith Christ there ascended his people to descry, Discerning their actions, to judge hy and by. THE SHADES. Oh! come to the Shades, ye wandering tourists, There beautiful scenery your eyes to behold, From its beautiful waters, its green-growing shrub ry, To its rock-bound clifts which enlighten the soul. Oh! come to me now, while my buds are all bursting. Their sweet-smelling odor with the air to diffuse; I ll fill your hearts gladly with all that grows wildly The old and the young I readily amuse. Come to me, ye loved ones, whose minds are all bur dened AVith the cares of a life s oppressions and toils, And I ll give you a field of fun and of pleasure To banish your minds from remorse and from broils. I am glowing with verdure from valley to summit, Whose blossoms of beauty are growing all wild, Which calls back the aged one from the time of their manhood To their earlier days, when they were a child. 68 INDIANA. I m a place for those people whose hanks have made failures, And want to get away from the cares of their home; They can "bring out their lasses and fish for the basses, And promenade proudly the Devil s Backbone. THE SHADES. This great massive structure is nature s own handwork ; Two high solid walls, sixty feet in mid-air, Four feet in its thickness, connecting two ridges There s nothing so grand that we can compare. JUGGING BUMBLEBEES. The fowls of the heavens make nests in the burrows, Which God lias ordained, the rocks being loose: The pine and the spruce, looking down on the billows, Has given its name: the old Buzzard Roost. A lady once fell from this high-towering precipice Her mind seemed to float with the calm gentle breeze ; She toppled right over, as if to destruction, And was barely saved by the boughs of some trees. Near the mouth of Little Ranty is picturesque falls, The most beautiful of all cascade?; An old-time stair leads up the great walls. As you pass through the flume to the Shades The waters are scattered in fan-like rays, As they strand o er the round-like dome, And dashing down in silver spray, They rush on in billows of foam. JUGGING BUMBLEBEES. Little Clarence went io the meadow To play on the new-mown hay, Where a bumblebee got after him And run him clear away. He told his mamma about the bees And all that they had done, Then hunted up a water jug And said lieM have some fun. 70 INDIANA. Tie filled it partly with water, It made a roaring sound., Then placed the jug quite near the nest When none of them were round. He then procured a little stick And gave the ground a thug: They all came out and flew around And sailed right in the jug. When they were in the water deep And drowned, which seemed quite funny, He hunted up the little nest And. took their bread and honey. Thus we see by cunning device We can such things entwine, But yet it seems so very nice To treat them so unkind; For we do dread their mighty sting, It appears so very sharp, And hurts much worse than anything It pierces to our heart. Come all you boys and learn of me, And you can have some pleasure: When you have nothing else to do But spend your time at leisure, And get a jug with water in, Which makes a noise like singing, WORKINGS OF BEES. 71 And you can take the bees right in AVithout the fear of stinging; Then when you see the coast is clear, And they have gone to rest, You can come up without much fear And procure their cozy nest. WORKINGS OF BEES. Little bees are flying high When the day is fair and dry Humming are his little wings, You can hear him as he sings, Carrying home his little sweets In his pouch or on his feet. On rich blossoms he does glide, Turning quick from side to side, Hunting for the sweetest cups, Out of which he takes his sups, Until he has made his round, Then you see him homeward bound. In his hive you ll find his cells, Which arc numerous honey wells, Flowing richly to the top In his luxurious honey crop, Which he s laid by with those wings To save his life until the spring. INDIANA. As soon as spring and it is warm, You can see them by the swarm "Working hard for sixty days The life of bees in working phase But younger ones are coming on Long before the old are gone. In their hive you ll find a cup Shaped just like a hickory nut; In this place the old queen plays, And passing round the eggs she lays For the increasing of the bees When the old are at their ease. RAISING THE FLAG. Who will raise the grand old flag O er a desolate Spanish realm, And life and liberty guarantee Where murder guides the helm? Why! the Union boys in blue Will sacrifice the last drop of blood To the cause of liberty true Will expel a tyrant lord. Who will set the reconcentradoes free From their shackles and iron bands, Where Columbus on his bended knee Prayed the God of Christian lands? RAISING THE FLAG. 73 Why! the Villon boys in blue. With the cross of Christ on high, Have heard of pitiful slaves pierced through, And have rallied to the battle cry. Who will liberate the poor and oppressed, As they toil without food for the crown, Penniless, wan, emaciated, distressed, Xo bed for repose but the ground? Why! the Union boys in blue Will go like a hero to the strife, And strain every muscle anew For a nation that struggles for life. We come not like a conquering foe, For power and pelf and lands; But, innocent as the mountain roe, With amity and outstretched hands, Go build for yourselves a state, Let "Libre" be written to tell How ye fought with tyrant strong and great How the enemy ye did expel. "Go free, dear Cuba," says the flag, As it waves o er Fl Caney s crest. "You ve trod the Spanish winepress in rags, But your oppressors have done gone to rest." "Go free," says the gallant Hough Kiders, As they sally away from the port, And are driving the renegade Spanish Inside of old Morro Fort. 74 INDIANA. fJo free! dearest Isles of the Indies; For centuries you ve been trodden down;, Cry Libre! Libre! Libre! You re forever free from a crown. Make for yourselves a government, While we guide, assist and protect; Place a star in the field of your emblem, That you meditate, think and reflect." Old Liberty Bell rung not in vain, Our Declaration says just what it means; We ll extend a blessing under oppression s reign To the ancient Isles of the Philippines. Go teach the Gospel in foreign lands, Give them a hope, a faith in Him; Extend God s grace, ye Christian bands: Teach them the power to pardon sin. Let us succor the innocent mongrel child A noble spirit may dwell within; In their humble state in the jungles wild A nomadic tale their life has been. Their masters coveted only spoil Xo builders of the inward man, But day by day incessant toil For Spanish friars a Corsair clan. Think not of trade or commercial power, But hold the lives of a people dear; Go give to them a better dower, And of our freedom let them hear. CHILDISH GLEE. Oppress them not; be merciful and kind; Let them absorb our modern ways, Until they see, or some way find, Their change of life is better days. CHILDISH GLEE. They gambol in the sunshine, Through the woods and dells; As it s nearing noontime They re resting at the well. Gathering velvet mosses From the rocks and rills, Making pretty flosses, Scampering over hills. Strolling by the brooklets, Pebbles shining bright, There is joy in every nooklet, Gems like stars of night. Murmuring are the waters As they ripple down; Bark boats of tiny squatters Pass by from fairy town. Birds are singing sweetly Among the leafy trees; Everything is lovely, Sweet-scented is the breeze. 76 INDIANA, They have ruddy little faces, Made so by the sun : Pauming and skipping races .Tollv childish fun. CHILDISH GLEE There is music in the foliage, Tunes of nature s art, Enlightening the little sages, And soothing the childish heart. Waves of sward like ocean, Nodding is the grain, Everything in motion, Dropping is the rain. A BACK-WOODS SCHOOL. 77 *Toad-stools are a -ticking Like our father s clock; Thorns for pins are sticking In the baby s frock. Mosses for the carpets, On the ground-made floor; Many colored leaflets Strewn about the door. Now mamma is calling, As they pluck a rose; Hear them all applauding, As the scene must close. A BACK-WOODS SCHOOL. The old-time school lias had its knell, And all those noisy feet we used to quell, Turning slates and leafing hooks, Full of mischief turns and crooks. You could see their faces ilo\v With the mischief all aglow; Eyes on teacher, never fail For to think of water pail; And when the teacher s back was turned They would forget quite all they d learned. * By Toad-stools is meant Polyporus versicolor. It grows on decaying trees like a half moon, with a white face und a brown one, and looks like the face of a clock. Children use them as clocks. 78 INDIANA. Some threw wads. across the room, And if the teacher turned too soon They studied lessons with a rush, Cheeks all reddened to a blush Innocent, we knew full well, For ne er a one the tale could tell. Then the case it rested so, For the proof fell far below; But the teacher assured them it would not do To repeat it, if he got a clew, Or he would punish to the law With a gad that s green and raw. ALONE IN THE WOODS. As I sat beneath the azure sky, The sun beamed warm and pleasant; There was not a rustle or a cry, But the whirring of the pheasant. The shady dells were like a dream Enchanted by the song-birds; A paradise it almost seemed, With pleasures passing by myriads. I felt myself in Fairy Land, With scarce the power of moving As happy as a seraph band Around the throne hallooing. YOUNTSVILLE. 79 In these glens of sweetest music, What is life to you or me, But beholding of those pleasures One would fairly wish to see? Pictures of the living present, Fanciful beyond all art, Richest of all earthly treasures, Settled deep within our hearts. And as the sun is setting, going, Darker shades are drawing nigh; Then will come an electric showing, Mirrored on the western sky. Streamers of a golden twilight, Fmblem< of a dying day Scenes which follow brightest sunshine, As its rays are drawn away. YOUNTSVILLE. On an eastern slope, where shines the sun, A village long time ago begun; V blacksmith shop, a grinding and woolen mill, Were just beneath the little hill; But now a new impetus brings A graded school with drooping wings, 80 INDIANA. With Finks and Snyders, O Xeals, too, Tis hard to tell you how it grew; But there has heen no want of skill In the little hamlet of Yountsville, And every wave some intelligence brings From the belfry tower with drooping wings. The master builder was a man of power, He built an edifice with gilded tower, Immersed in wisdom deep at heart That learning to the soul embark; And to the children this building flings Good tidings from those drooping wings. This stately mansion is grand, indeed, "Tis gleaning chaff from among the weeds; It quickens life unto the soul, It is a boon in deepest goal And to its hall the urchin brings, Beneath the belfry with drooping wings. The bell peals out from its high-up perch, Excelling that of the village church, Calling the children to fall in line And learn a lesson of the Sacred Shrine. This. I tell you. is just the thing Which issues from those drooping wings. A DESCRIPTION OF HISTORY. 81 The Old Oaken Bucket is far surpassed We ve piped the earth for deeper gas; This is a child of recent skill; Xo water wheel, no water mill, But steam that s gushing from iron rings, Is just beneath those drooping wings. Xow. <>! these things J speak in praise I do approve of modern ways. Train up your sons like stately men, To he an honor to all their ken; And of your town don t fail to sing, And the grandeur of those drooping wings. A DESCRIPTION OF HISTORY. In the life of a nation, accounts must he kept, To enlighten a people coming after; If it wasn t for this events would have slept, And weakened our store of good treasure. But, luckily, man like a genius has heen, In recording those things which were passing, 1 ntil we have pages from stylus and pen, With the many events that s amassing. On this mer of time we have handed down All that is grand of a nation; We can now hehold from clay tahlets of old All Christendom clear down to creation. 82 IXDIANA. Our mind is like a vessel laden with fruit That grew over a far distant ocean, But it is ripening- now with each turn of the plow, Which quicken our pages in motion. In a picture of thought we see many things Which the chroniclers have penned for their glory; And. we children of skill can read with a will The deeds of a people grown hoary. There s profit by those who have gone on before, And have mirrored their thoughts by the pages; It is better than gold or gems that are old, Which must shine out and glitter for ages. THE OLD SAWMILL. Toot! toot! toot! The time has come AVhen sawmill labor has begun. Eoll on the log and dog it down. And turn the adjusting lever round; Turn on the steam and let her go: The dust is flying like the snow! Reverse the lever, it will stop, And on a car the plank will drop. There is a man that s standing there To seize the planks and off-bear; They take them to the edging saw. And then you ll hear a buzzing yaw. ALCOHOL. The fireman gathers up the scrap?, And in the fiery furnace slaps, The blaze goes curling through the line; The saw is like a brilliant blue, And when the mill is running right The saw is clearly out of sight! J>iisy hands are at the mill, For every man has a place to fill; And if you stand and gaze around, A loosened bark will hit your crown, And on your nose or forehead lodge And when too late you re sure to dodge. ALCOHOL. Alcohol is like a snake: It can t be kept in bounds; It makes of one a perfect wreck, A wandering vagrant hound. It steals away an active brain, And fills one with remorse, And causes people to go insane, Their soul is all morose. In dread of those, we stand in awe, Who tipple at the wine; They all disgrace the moral laws Their manners are unkind. 84 INDIANA. All sons and daughters should abhor The actions of such loots For this is what they make themselves When whisky s up their snoots. Of all the curses on the earth, This certainly is the worst; It brings to Badness and to gloom Our pleasures and our mirth. And he who drinks the fiery cup Will come to saddest woe-, For, as he lakes each dainty sup, Twill blossom on his nose. OVER THE HILLS TO THE SCHOOL HOUSE. Over the hills to the school house The teacher is plodding his way, To instruct those frolicsome urchins Who, like snowbirds, are busy at play. His duties are many and kindred To those of a parent at home So loving, so gentle and child-like He must treat each pupil that comes. Their faces are shining with gladness To see the first sprinkle of snow; Then off with their Avraps and sleigh-bobs To coast down the hill thev will 0. OVER THE HILLS TO THE SCHOOL HOUSE. 85 When the sun is melting the snow-drifts, They ll be rolling it up with their hands, And shaping it into a rock cliff, Or making it into a man. Then they ll choose sides for a battle, The enemy a large heap of snow; They distance themselves from the target One, two, make ready to throw! The mummy is shattered asunder, Sharp-shooters are tiying their guns; Xow the teacher is pulling the bell-rope, And away goes sweetcake and buns. They settle themselves in their places, And commence humming like numerous bees, Perusing their books to learn wisdom, All leafing and turning the leaves. Class number one has its lesson. And the master calls it on time; At a tap of the boll they are standing, And two taps, they are falling in line. "Xow, Johnnie, you answer the question That 1 have propounded to you;" A similar routine in connection,, And the day s recitations are through. SG INDIANA. Then they return to their threshold, Their prayers are quietly said, And now they are donning their night clothes, And mamma will put them to bed. CRAWFORDSVILLE, ALIAS ATHEXE. The city of Crawford is a beautiful town, Where knowledge and learning doth abound, In the great theatrical arena; It is a place that has much fame, And transient people are gently tame When in the city of Athene. Our modern people have pluck and skill, They push right onward up the hill, "Where natural science is gleamy; And yet they associate the whole And give to physics a perfect soul, These wily students of Athene. Commerce is pressing in every nook, The old landmarks they have forsook, And all that s dark and dreamy; Xothing assumes a haggard look, And life is like a sparkling brook In this bustling citv of Athene. THE feED BIRD. 8? We are marching onward with the tide, Around the world we swiftly glide, The future looks hright and beamy; The laggard is dropping out behind, Although their friends are true and kind In the ever-aspiring Athene. We cannot stay this business roll, While pressing onward to reach the goal In this philosophical arena; We are pushing on toward the skies To meet the patriarchs, so wise Our people of great Athene. The annals of time will tell our fate, And of our people growing great In our city with such vehemy;* Our fame is laureled in ev ry clime, And history impressed on the wings of time, Of our people of great Athene. THE RED BIED. The red bird sat upon a tree, And sang to me, and sang to me. The sweetness of his voice did float From the airv waves of his little throat. -This word is coined from vehemence. INDIANA. The time that he sang pierced to my heart, Exciting a love that ne er will part For the little singer so full of glee And the melodious notes from the old elm tree. THE RED BIRD. But still it seemed that he would not tire, As he mounted up still higher and higher, And warbled a lay I ne er have heard From the sweetest voice of a singing bird. SOLDIERS MONUMENT. 89 Tho morning came, and soon was spent; The sun to the topmost sky had sent His brilliant rays to light the earth And the beautiful morning which it gave birth. His glee extended to the hour of eight, When the time of feeding was getting late, And the young ones croaked for a dainty meal, A worm or a bug from the new-plowed field. Then the mock-bird thought he d imitate, But fell far short in his self-conceit. His dress apparel weren t near so red, And the whitting song was stale and dead. But yet, as eager as pride could be, He sang away with his rhythm, to-ree! T ntil the flowers with shame did blush, Which caused his mimicry soon to hush. But on went the warbler with lay so sweet, That it savored the morsels the little ones eat, And taught them a lesson which all should know: That the way to be happy is to try to be so. SOLDIERS MONUMENT. Our soldiers fought and bled and died The Stars and Stripes to maintain; A monument will be their pride To speak aloud their fame. 90 INDIANA. They loft their wive? and families dear To face the maddened J oe; Some ne er came hack is very clear Their hodies lie cold below. But in our minds, so calm and bright, This pedestal stands aloft; Tt sheds a lustre of passing light Their memories can t be lost. And to those children which are bereaved, This statue does proclaim, In honor of our country Their fathers have been slain. That we acknowledge their sacrifice, And must the deed repay, This is an emblem of our love, In honor of the fray. They chased the enemy on battlefields, Like chieftains would a knave, And to the people did reveal The grand old flag must wave. Their families dear are in our hearts, We all must care for them; The government has set apart Emoluments for the men. OFFICE- SEEKING. 91 But those who died in the battle s rage, Xo tithes can they receive But by an ensign for every age. Which speaks in lasting praise. And on its sides we must inscribe The grandest names of yore, So passing people may imbibe Their deeds forever more. OFFICE-SEEKING. The rush for office is quite free, And candidates are plenty; It s just because there s no money Their pocket-books are empty. Uncle Sam lias lured us so, In taking by taxation, From off the farm we re forced to go, We cannot make connection. A mortgage on a horse or cow Isn t worth the holding; How can a man support a frow Unless by office-holding? Our wheat is worth but sixty cents, And beef not worth a penny; This is the reason, in common sense, That candidates are many. INDIANA. CHILDHOOD IX THE ORCHARD. Grand was the scene before us, With Junes and Rhode Island green, Where fathers used to scold us For knocking the Summer Queens. That striped fruit we cherished And gathered with a will, Our little bodies nourished, From fruits off of the hill. Here passed the best of childhood, Climbing in the trees; Twas equal to the wild-wood, With flowers and scented breeze. We long to be a child again, And live a hermit life, Away from all the cares of men, Where youthful pleasure s rife. Where childhood is a springtime, Ripening in the sun. Like the flowers of ages, And life is full of fun. Those precious golden moments, Spent in loving childish mirth, Is the sweetest of a lifetime, Gathering fruits from flowers of earth. THE HERO OF MANILA. Fruits we cannot carry with us, To a. land of sweet repose; But by our fruits the people know us, As they know the sweetest rose. THE HERO OF MANILA. Of all the men that sail o er the seas, And are standing for Old Glory, There s none so brave and at their case As George Dewey, old and hoary, lie has plowed the billows and the waves, Which ran most mountain high; His name is laureled with the braves, His fame twill never die. Hoist all the flags and fire the guns, Our hero is not alone; Ring out, wild bells, your echoes tell George Dewey is coining borne! A message flashed across the sea: "Protect your native land!" He received it with such cheer and glee, And sailed for Manila, strand. The Spanish guns along the way Belched forth a deafening roar; The admiral s words were calm that day, As down on the enemy he bore. INDIANA. Hoist all the flags and fire the guns, Our hero is not alone: King out, wild bells, your echoes tell George Dewey is coming home! ITe passed the entrance of the hay, O er magazines and mines; Our seamen won in every fray, And heat them every time. Brave Dewey signalled from the deck To fire on the Spanish knaves, And soon we saw their ships a-wreck, And floating on the waves. Hoist all the flags and fire the guns, Our hero is not alone; King out, wild hells, your echoes tell George Dewey is coming home! The work is done, the flag is raised Amidst the battle s cry; The boys in blue must all be praised They mean to do or die. Manila is ours by right of war, We ll treat the people kind; This sheer oppression we abhor Xo truer friend they ll find. Hoist all the flags and fire the guns, Our hero is not alone; King out, wild bells, your echoes tell George Dewev is coming home! THE SAVIOR. The victor starts out to retrace His course across the sea: A perfect type of the American race A friend to you and me. He meets the kings along the route, And feasts with noble queens; We hear the guns and people shout, And martial music teems. Hoist all the flags and fire the guns, Our hero is not alone; Ring out, wild "bells, your echoes tell George Dewey has come home! THE SAVIOE. It was in good old Bethlehem, AY here the fairest baby lay, In the rudest of a manger, On swaddling cloths and hay. Twas on a lonely evening That the people s fate was sealed AYith TI promise of redemption, And eternal life revealed. A star shone in the heavens Above where the Savior lay: A light to those in darkness To guide them on their way. 96 INDIANA. And lo! the shepherds saw it While attending to their sheep, And, rushing onward to it, They found the child asleep. The time was so exciting, And the kings were all beguiled, As they sought witli such impatience The life of the infant child. But day by day he was growing In knowledge and in grace: Ordained the soul-redeemer Of all the human race. When he reached his manhood, He perfected His plan, By dying on the cross-tree At the wicked hands of man. His soul ascended upward, And his body to the tomb; The day was clothed in darkness And the earth was all in gloom He now is with the Father, And is sitting on the throne, Awaiting of the judgment To call His people home. THE EDITORS. 97 THE EDITOES. The editors are a jolly lot, And yet they feel quite mellow; They fill their sheets with much that s not So pleasant to the other fellow. They talk at length, and to the point, And always get so giddy You d think their pen was out of joint, Like the tongue of an Irish biddy. And yet they feel as safe as mice Hid in some dusky barracks, Awaiting for to break the ice From some lucid son of Garrick s. Sometimes they meet upon the street Some lady filled with pride: We then do hear some shuffling feet And twirling of rawhide. Away they go up Lundy s lane, The editor much in the lead: The damsel followed by her train, Attached to her raging steed. Xext issue then will be explained, And both be satisfied; The censure shows they both are blamed, And both have lost some pride. 98 INDIANA. And thus they go from year to year, Exposing by the legions, And reaching out, both far and near, Through all the world and regions. ELECTION DAY. Election day is coming, with all that pomp can wield; Electors are protected by an artificial shield. Boodlers have defrauded this sacred trust of men, Until we have devised a plan with stall and chute for them; A die that stamps the chosen one, a juror in the box, They there receive no emoluments, and cheat the sly old fox, By passing in behind the screen, away from longing eyes. And fixing out their ballots, concealed from those that buys. This ballot must be counted according to the mark That s placed thereon, without restraint, the symbol of their heart. Then hand the stamp to the polling clerk, the ticket to inspector, do on your way rejoicing then, your conscience clear as nectar. Schemes and fraud are dormant now, the people have ascended; Xo more they ll milk the fatted cow, our rights are strongly blended. LITTLE DOG FRED. 99 The milk will flow the other way, there s crystals in the butter; We are so glad we re free again, our hearts doth fairly flutter. The ship of state will still sail on, the sea is calm and easy; The schemers cry is passing by, their mantle s dark and greasy. LITTLE DOG FRED. I have a little dog -whose name is Fred, lie runs with me lo play; lie has four eyes within his head Two bright, two dim were they. He has four feet that s colored tan, And he frolics on the hay; You d think lie was a little man He walked upright to-day. ] ll hold some food above his head, Poor fellow, he will speak; Ho always does so when he s fed, AYhcn things arc out his reach. He chases the rabbits in the woods, And the squirrels up the trees; lie watches the chickens with their broody And snaps the bumblebees. 100 INDIANA. He has a coat as black as jet, And teeth as white as snow; He is the very nicest pet That one can ever know. LITTLE DCG FRED. He carries sticks along the road, And trots along to school; The teacher never needs a goad, For he doesn t break the rules. A SXOWFLAKE. 101 lie scours the pasture? for the cows, And does not fear to roam; He never stop- his how-wow-wows Until he brings them home. A SNOWFLAKE. "Whenever a snowflake leaves the sky, It turns and turns around to sigh: "Hood-bye, dear mother in vaulted Line, Some day again I ll come to you Xot in crystals frozen white, But in liquid prisms bright; Amidst fervent heat I ll take new wings, While gushing forth from babblings springs. "My home is where the polar bear Hunts for the seal and ice s glare, And where the chubby Esquimau AVith dog and sled glides o er the snow. By arc-tie winds I m driven down To shroud the earth in winter s gown; I prowl around the cottage door, And seek the chinks and Brusseled floor. "And where the baby s snug -and warm, I steal around his little form; And yet T have a work to do To save the flowering bulbs for von. 102 INDIANA. I clothe the earth, and keep it warm, And save these germs of earth from harm; And when the sunny spring has come, I to the widening rivers run. "When in this humid tropic clime I start again on the wings of time, Ascending in the balmy air, Until I reach a current where The Northern trades are passing nigh, And then again I say good-bye, Good-bye, dear flowers of the torrid zone, I ll go again to my native home." A HOBXET S XEST. The sentry stood out at the door, And winked and bustled around; He sallied in and told a score That an enemy he had found. I threw a stick at the hornet s nest, And one came buzzing by; I started to run my very best, But he caught me on the eye. I threw myself down on the ground, And rolled and writhed in pain; But no relief down there I found, For they darted and came again. THE CUNNING, COVETOUS JEW. 103 So up I got, and away I went, Surrounded by a swarm; And in that race I did repent I gave such wild alarms. I slapped my hands and scratched aljout, And did many things in vain; I pulled the deserted stingers out, And felt the smarting pain. I ne er had been in such distress, r>ut always will refrain From clubbing of a hornet s nest, Since I have felt such pain. Xow, all you boys who think it s fun To throw your shafts and darts, Had better prepare some place to run Before vou make such starts. THE CUXXIXG, COVETOUS JEW. "Come in, my friend, and see my stock, My goods are nice and new; I ve everything, from hat to frock," Said the cunning, covetous Jew. They re always hanging out in front To catch and lure you in; Xo matter if your speech is blunt, They want the shining tin. 104 INDIANA. "Try on this coat, it is all wooi, And woven nice and new." And on the shoulder it is too full, But you know a cunning Jew. "How do you like this suit of black, It s imported goods clear through?" And, grasping a handful in the back, Cried out: "It s shust a fit for you!" "You see it s lined with satin cloth, And sewed with silken thread," And to tell the truth twas eaten by moth, But, " Tis excellent!" he said. "Xow try this vest of latest style, It s bound all round before," And on the tag I see the while Twas made in eighty-four. "Eight dollars is the price of it, And that is very cheap. I cannot fall a single bit." lie at the cost mark peeped. He feigns he s selling out at cost, And cannot fall, be-joses, Without incurring heavy loss, He d swear by holy Moses. But, by the by, we pretend to go, And offer but dollars six. "I cannot take that price!" said Steve, But we ve heard of Jewish tricks. THE CUNNING, COVETOUS JLW. We move along, as if to go, O - O 7 And watch that cunning Jew; Tie could not take, he pretended so, But he ll wrap it up for you. Xow can I sell yon a hat or tie?" He ll show you through the stock; You cannot go unless you buy, At prices at bed-rock. He s always selling out at cost, And tells a woeful tale; Tic s had a fire, a damage loss, The reason for the sale. Xow call again/ he ll say to you, One hand upon your shoulder An instinct of an artful Jew, To cheat and be the bolder. He casts a wink at an elder son To signify he s done you. And that s the way the thing is done By the cunning, covetous Hebrew. And thus he goes from year to year, A-selling out so cheap; And yet he has a conscience clear, And money by the heap, Though all was made by selling out Away below the cost. And that s the way this Jew came out Who sold and always lost. INDIANA. THE RAGGEDY GAL. The raggedy gal is nurse for ma, And chores about the house; She makes the children cake and slaw, And good old apple sauce. Her flaky pudding is so fine And colored nice and brown, And served with milk from fattest kine, And sugar from the town. Oil! the raggedy gal, the raggedy gal, Encircled with a balmoral! She gave us peaches from the trees, And peanuts from the ground, Some pretty shells from out the sea, And played like she was clown. Then up and down the road we went, A-drawing of a cart, And from the dusty path we sent The grasshopper quick and sharp. Oh ! the raggedy gal, the raggedy gal, Encircled with a balmoral! The raggedy gal will care for baby, Playing in the pleasant shade, Just as happy as a May bee Out in gaudy dress parade. THE KAGGEDY GIRL. Little =ongs she s always humming, All must bow and nod and sing; Little feet are nimbly shuffling To the trumpet s twangling ring. Oh! the raggedy gal, the raggedy gal, Encircled with a balmoral! We love the chubby ragged lady For the sweet meats and the buns; Xo matter if her dress is fady, She has friends, and loving ones. Children play about her jolly, And press her gently at the knees; They enjoy such pranks and folly Pleasure? for their childish ease. Oh! the raggedy gal, the raggedy gal, Encircled with a balmoral! She is queen out making sunshine, Gathering moss from off the logs, Swinging in the corded grape vines, And seeking the curious of the bogs She is captain of the party As the marauders scour the woods; They are laughing loud and hearty, Gathering berries ripe and good. Oh! the rnggedy gal, the raggedy gal, Encircled with a balmoral! 108 INDIANA. Oh! the sweetest thing is the ragged} gal. Singing songs of fal-de-ral. She has access to the cellar, Giving out the apples mellow; She has all the pantry care Pies and cakes so rich and rare; She must give the urchins some. Bless the children! this is fun. Ohf the good old raggedy, raggedy gal, Encircled with a balmoral! THE WELLS TRAGEDY. THE FOUR INNOCENTS. As four small boys were at work one day Picking strawberries so beautiful and red, Their hearts were very blithe and gay, And the sun shone bright o erhead. Work to them was naught but play, They did it with a will; Adroitly they worked away Their vessels for to fill. The father came the work to inspect, But ne er tried to assist; His mind was crazed and did reflect In the ways of a pessimist. THE WELLS TRAGEDY. 109 Their childish glee told the work was done, As the playful little hoys Were starting homeward so full of fun, With such cheerful, childish joys. The father lured them on the way By scenes at a wayside well, Where a woodchuck hurrowed in the clay, Which served as their parting knell. While looking in the quaint old well, The father pushed them in. Oh! such a sight! Oh! who can tell Of such a crime and sin! They dropped beneath the turbid wave, They climbed the rugged wall, And looking at their father, crazed, They pitifully did call. "Oh! father, save! What have we done That you desire to kill? Our task we ve never tried to shun; Oh! spare us, please grant our will!" But on he went with furious rage, And crushed one s little head: The father had them in a cage Their wounds profusely bled. 110 They caught the parent by the leg And writhed as lie pushed them imdrr. And for their lives they hogged and plead Their bodies he rent asunder. The mother saw from a distant place Something she could not descry. And. speeding onward with quickened pace. She heard the children cry. God! the sight that met her eyes, As she peered down in the deep. She heard such pitiful, pleading cries, But two had gone to sleep. She wrung her hands and cried aloud. And prayed (iocl her children to save; Behold! the r e came a rescue crowd, And snatched two from the grave. The mother released two only sons Out of a madman s grasp A mother s love is the only one That will forever last. But the rent that s in that mother s heart Xo time can ever heal, The jar that set their lives apart: The scenes about the well, MAXWELL. Ill Her darlings lay upon the ground, Their spirits gone to heaven; Xo trace of life in them was found Save the promise God has given. Xo place can shut the soul within It rests outside the tomb; The one that dies and is free from sin Finds in God s temple a boon. MAXWELL. Tn early days, when wild woods was rife, The people sought to better their life; To join their mites was a common rule, And build a rural district school. So the people here did just the same, And built a cabin before the frame; And many a tale the by-gones tell Of how we courted sweet Rosie Xell. The older boys would cut the wood, And do such things as they thought they should, While the girls would sweep the rustic floor, And hang around the open door. We jumped the rope and dropped the kerchief > too, And passed the dreary winters through; We stood in a line our lessons to spell, And sought a place by sweet Rosic Xell. 112 INDIANA. A hole in the wall transmitted light, And the old rude benches were a sight; You d see them setting along the wall, For ne er a one had a back at all. AVe d sit there like a crouching coon, And throw some wads across the room For this is what the old folks tell Of the pranks they played with sweet Rosie Xell. Some gads were cut, and hid around, For those who played and acted the cknvn; And often it happened the culprit missed. And an innocent back would writhe and twist MAXWELL. 118 Beneath the flail of the teaching one, To pay the debt of the laugh and fun. For this is the way they cut a swell, And attracted the attention of sweet Rosie Xell. The windows sometimes were paper gauze; "\Ye had a code of well-written laws: The absconder must always meet the brunt For taking a truant rabbit hunt; The teacher would often make the plan, And often he had but one eye or hand, And yet he would act the dude and swell To gain the confidence of sweet Rosie Nell. And this is the way old Maxwell grew, Until the district was cut in two. One part was east and one was west Tis bard to tell you which was best; For often we met of evenings to see Which was the best at a spelling bee, And much was the cunning that was used and well To be best man with -weet Rosie Xell. But then there came some better days, The boys rode out in one-horse chaise, And now our name is spread afar Since we ve passed the code of the three R s. We are keeping abreast and with the times By making of teachers and divines; And now we return from a distance to tell Of how we courted sweet Rosie Xell. 9 114 INDIANA. THE KISSING BUG. Some ladies are afraid of a kissing bug, And cannot sleep o* night, And yet they emhrace and kiss a thug And think it out of sight. This hug appears when snug in bed. And you are sound asleep; You ll feel it crawling o er your head, And touch your rosy cheeks. He steals a kiss, then off he goes, The subject sleeping sound; He leaves the impression of his nose In the morning it is found. You ll know this hug, with tweezers sharp, And beak that s very black; You ll feel so queer about the heart As he takes a dainty smack. This i a freak, as we have found, While walking in the park: That ladies pass their kisses round When it is growing dark. This bug has plenty of cologne, And smells like foaming beer; lie feels himself so much at home When on a lady s ear, THE HAPPPY FARMER. Xo\v, ladies, you should guard your mouth, As you have had some tips, Or this vagrant will break in your house And kiss your rosy lips. . THE HAPPY FAKMER. Did you ever see a farmer, by jo, Out in his little potato patch to hoe, With the weeds falling dead all around On the dark, fertile, gopherized ground? It is quite a pretty sight to see, With the Colorado beetle on his knee; But he is a happy farmer, just so. Did you ever see a farmer, by jo, Out in his little meadow to mow, And the children all coming out to play, Always getting in the sturdy farmer s way? Jt is a sight quite pretty, I would say, And his good wife is tedding of the hay; But he is a happy farmer, just so. Did you ever see a farmer, by jo, As he goes out his seed to sow, With the midges in his wheat, And the cheat blossoms sweet As he plods across the field? He knows there ll be no yield; But he is a happy farmer, just so. 116 INDIANA. Did you ever see a farmer, by jo, As his prospects are brightening up so. With the pumpkin on the vine, And "his hogs, and his kine? But the cholera will come, And the fatal black tongue But he is a happy farmer, just so. Did you ever see a farmer, by jo, As he hitches up his team to go And gather the golden grain, In the snow and the rain And bring it to the barn? Which is the custom on the farm But he is a happy farmer, just so. Did you ever see a farmer, by jo, With his produce all heaped in a row, As he starts for the town And the prices have come down? Then he trudges all around, And no market is found; But he is a happy farmer, just so. Did you ever see a farmer, by jo, Under mortgages and debts to grow? As he starts to go away Some dude will halloo "Hey!"" Then the farmer will look around, And the imp can t be found, For he is a muscled farmer, just so, JOHN CHINAMAN, MY JOE. 117 Did you ever see a farmer, by jo, As the Master is calling him to go Unto his final rest With the good and oppressed? For he was a son t>f toil In this world of turmoil But he was a happy farmer, by jo. JOHN CHINAMAN, MY JOE. Of all the men I chance to meet, In crowded lane or on the street, With blouse around his chubby beak, And wooden shoes upon his feet, Is John Chinaman, my Joe John, John Chinaman, my Joe. When in a crowd he ll hustle through, He wore a plaid he called a "queue/ You ll know him by the antique shoe, And eyes that s just set in askew, John Chinaman, my Joe John, John Chinaman, my Joe. He wore a cap drawn o er his skull, And mice and rats they filled his hull, His chop-sticks came unto a lull As he smoked his pipe of opiates full, John Chinaman, my Joe John, John Chinaman, my Joe. 118 INDIANA. A mandarin, we call the chap In wooden shoes and turban cap, And beneath his chest he wore a flap,* This mulligan man with braided plat, John Chinaman, my Joe John, John Chinaman, my Joe. You ll find him in a laundry shop Filled with relics unto the top; A little rice to fill his chops, And a couch within on which he lops, John Chinaman, my Joe John, John Chinaman, my Joe. He little eats, and little drinks, And of his soul he little thinks; His almond eyes he blinks and blinks. His pig-tail queue he plaits and kinks. John Chinaman, my Joe John, John Chinaman, my Joe. His complexion is of a tawny hue, And stature like a Chinese shrew, His manners he cannot renew, Except by the teaching of Conl uciu, John Chinaman, my Joe John, John Chinaman, my Joe. * Flap is used for the word apron. THE PAINTER POET, J. W. RILEY. 119 Some day he ll pas-? through (loathly throes, And go where all good Cinnamon goes, And where that is we do not know. It may be heaven, or it may he so, John Chinaman, my Joe John, John Chinaman, my Joe. And here we ll leave the mulligan man, And all akin to the Orient clan; There s vice enough in the heathen land To hring that kingdom to a strand, John Chinaman, my Joe John, John Chinaman, my Joe. THE PAINTER POET, J. W. RILEY. Twas on a painter s scaffold, Adorning the faded walls, That our poet obtained his lessons In those scenes aglow for all. But he s nohler than a painter, With an eye for beauteous scroll, And has penned such words of wisdom As his thoughts in music roll. Ti< a gift of art so cunning To write in words of sweetest rhythm, And thus portray the scenes of nature, Or the seraphs God has given. 120 INDIANA. I) ut the poet pictures nicely Beautiful things out on the lea, As he sketches through his optics Greenest swards in waves like sea. With now and then a fragrant flower, Whose sweet aroma fills the hreeze, Encircled with such ruddy petals The heart s delight in quest of ease. The pen is talking of the image Tn the mind or of the soul, As it speeds hy inspiration To attain the good or goal. Thus we find the Hoosicr Poet, In thoughts akin to the mouldering past, Holding forth a vivid picture Mirrored hy the mind s reflecting cast. More excellent writings have ne er been given In a strain so rich and pure, Flowing gently with a ripple, Everlasting to endure. rOCAIIOXTAS. Born in the sylvan wild, Inured to toil and strife, Meek and modest was the child Who strove a nomad life. i OCAHONTAS. Amidst those of a rubicund line, Painted in warlike array, This innocent in amity grew, With the villagers in frolicsome play. Daughter of the great Powhattan Chief, Heir to the throne of her race, Friend to the Pilgrims in relief, With venison to relieve their wan grimace. In trials and trouble she s true, For grandeur she surely was horn; For as soon as the war dance was through She brought a sweet morsel of corn. But a noise from the rattle breaks in, An omen of war and of peace; "Pis a sight in such noise and din To see the foe crouch for relief. Adroitly the old chief raised His war club o er his crested head, P>ut Providence by Pocahontas saved Captain Smith from the throes of the dead. child inspired with such love, Whose motives were friendly and good An image so pure like the dove \Yhich abode on the Savior in the wood. J22 INDIANA. Xow with vain design these warriors adorn. Sad heart, knowing secrets of right; A message to the village is home As she steals through the darkness of night. They were saved by the warning of one, A goddess in savage dress, A life like a ray of the Son A ,Yhich God has pardoned and blessed. She was held as a ransom of peace Till the red warriors mellowed in strife, But never was her heart quite released. For TCodolph had made her his wife. She was taken to the court of St. James, An honored and competent gue- t, A wonder to those of the Thames^ Delighted and fondly caressed. A union of hearts and of hands, A union of tribes and of lands, A union of posterity still Remains in the Old Dominion, and will, HAXS SPADGEXS HEX. Xow come, old Speck, I ll make dot nest, And put vone dozzen in it; You ll git some rest and I ll be bleshed Wid thirteen checks within it. HAXS SPADGENS* HEX. 128 Just git right on these eggs ov your n, And varm dee dormant germ; I ll give doe food to hatch dee brood And keep clem fertile and varm. Madam Spadgens is vanting some fowels To sell and buy some yarns, And because she s none she sometimes growls And makes some great alarms. Xow yer set thri weeks; I ll try dem eggs And see der good a tall; I ll hold dee light so nice and bright, And votch dee silihonette on der wall. Oil, vife, come hor and votch right thar, And see if yer can skiver If dee shadow thar is downy far, Or shades ov a torpid liver. Oh, yaw, yaw, yaw! it moves! it moves! These eggs vill soon be checkcns; Tey ll scratch me flowers aft rainy showers, And then thar ll be dee dickens. And now 1 lias dem all but vone, Dee shell seems not a pippen; I ll press it vittle gist for vun, Pooh! pooh! it crashed! it s rotten! 12 4: INDIANA. And now I has de hull of clem, Dee ole bird s alers chicken; I ll build a pin to put dem in, To save dee flowers from thar plucken. Xow I see thass logger beers For me and Dolly Spadgens; Vee ll eat saner krout and .sip about From dee foaming, frothy flagons. Some fruits vee ll raise along wid checks, To kape from constipation; Some grapes and eggs and yellow legs Will form our daily rations. THE ROBIK The robin built her clever nest In the fork of an apple tree; Twas there I saw her pale red breast, And eggs so blue to see. She sang a song from a tilting limb, Twas early in the morn; Her nest was filled unto the brim With birdies newly born. I waved my hand above the nest, They chirped, and chirped again, And stretched their necks their very best- Twas only but a sham. THE ROBIN. 125 THE ROBIN. The tune she sang was loud and sweet, It soothed the young ones hreasts; She soared away for some food to eat, As nature had taught her host. 126 The young birds looked at the mother above, And wondered why such cheer: T was the sweetest melody of family love That one could ever hear. She watched the nestlings clothed in down, As day by day they grew, Until their pinions feathered round, Then from their nest they flew. They now are singing a robin s lay, As children ought to do; It banishes sorrow from each day, As life they journey through. OUR FLAG. Our flag still waves o er Xo. 9, It floats out from the steeple; This is a country great and grand, A patriotic people. Some heartless wretch removed it once An insult to the teacher; She played the part of Judy Punch, The handsome little creature. She then procured a big pop-gun It bore an ivory handle; It reminds one of a petty tale Twill alwavs raise a scandal. A VIEW OF NATURE. And now the parties have taken it up, The hoot owl loudly screeches; Politicians are full of sup They have it in their breeches. Patriotism is not so free Expressed by public speakers; J Tis only a little bragadoshee They are but office-seekers. Just like the fox said to the ass: "Your ears they will betray thccy No matter if you have the bra-s And arc working for the party. "We ll kill Hie goat and whip the kid That removed the flying missile; Then the lady can lay down Her Yankee belt and pistol. Joan of Arc was a heroine She rode a flying charger; But all there is of that teacher now: Her name is a little larger. A VI KW OF X.VITKE. Ambition leads to great success; A 1 income hand is ever Messed With all this earth doth hold In I ee or treasures of shining gold. 128 INDIANA. A shiftless person is all a glow, Preparing a field some seeds to sow, It may be great, it may be small, But knowledge gained surpasses all. A childish mind is but a blank, Devolving around just like a crank, Adhering to either good or bad, Making a man out of a lad. Proper schooling is what one needs, Tearing away the noxious weeds, And using skillfully a pruning knife To shape the tree for after life. Education is a nursery bed Out of which our thoughts are fed, And, judging by the streams that flow, People may our culture know. Cood nature smiled upon the child, Embracing him when very wild, Inviting him to come and rest, Peering through her folds of dress. KIND DEEDS. Little deeds of kindness Always are at hand, Eeady to remind us Greatness is a man. THE MONON WRECK. 129 Storing up a treasure Unto the garner s fill, With a social wisdom, Should be our only will. Working in the sunshine, With exalted cheer, Elevating mankind, With nothing for to fear. Uniting all in friendship Which should ever be, Forming of a union To calm a troubled sea. # * # * * Come, board the ship that leads to life, Whose sails are made of love, And banish tilings which lead to strife, And sail to God above. THE MONON WRECK. OUR LAST RIDE. The train is coming yonder, near, The conductor calls the station clear, Then outward move the busy throng l?eady for their stepping on. HI 130 INDIANA. A signal waved says all is well, And now we hear the parting bell; The engineer opes the steam chest throes, Then swifter than a dart she goes. She glides along quite at her ease, The swiftness causes a gentle breeze; The wheels are creaking on the frosty rails, Just like a bird she nimbly sails. One mile is passed and all is fun: Two miles are made the thing is done: We are crossing over Sugar creek bridge, And starting on the graded ridge. trikes against a broken rail, When all the cars it does derail, And down they plunge into the deep, A depth of more than sixty feet. She rolled over just afore and aft, The occupants turning like a shaft, Before she reaches this mournful place, Where each the other s soul embraced. A silence fell upon the crew, As if they knew not what to do; Then came sad and lamenting cries From a wreck of cars as fine as flies, THE MOXOX WRECK. 131 Tears arc flowing thick and fast From every one of the mangled mass; And, laying there, we hear their prayers, Asking the Lord to relieve their cares: "Our Heavenly Father! wilt Thou draw near, And hear our AVOC in supplication here; Save us from this wreck of flame, Where dearest comrades have heen slain." To the nearest town a messenger made. While on the ground the dead are laid. Oh, how terrible are the moaning sighs, With pitiful appeals and last good-byes! Hut there they lay on the crimson snow - Their hearts have ceased to ehh and flow; Quite as cold as a frozen chunk. With a lady s heart upon a stump. Which was so far from her native home: The ancient city of old Rome; Never again to reach that clime, And hear the bell of St. Peter s chime. And now the flames begin to light The demolished cars, which adds to fright. For fear that all will burn to death. Oh, God! intervene and save the rest! 132 INDIANA. And yonder in the wreck I see A man that s pinioned down by the knee, And hear him calmly for to say: "Cut, oh, cut my leg away!" But a jackscrew from the mail caboose Is now applied and lets him loose, With many thanks to these brave men For greater heroes ne er have been. There was a mother, frantic and wild, Looking for her little child, Which in her fright had run away To the nearest house of that sad fray. And as that mother paced to and fro, She found some footprints in the snow, And, leaping onward with breathless bound, Her loving daughter soon was found. And such a meeting ne er has been It moistened the eyes of the bravest men, While in her arms she clasped so dear The object of her joy and fear. But four are dead they speak no more: The Savior has their souls in store, Awaiting of the Judgment Day, Where all is good, or sad dismay. A REVIVAL MEETING. 13o A EEVIVAL MEETING. Tis long to be remembered, Those grand old meetings of yore, Those songs of cheer which soothed the ear- Twas never so before. Xone tired by oft times meeting, Xor love of brotherly greeting; Twas a Christians old reunion, Partaking of the Lord s communion. To preach the gospel was God s command, Preach it boldly in every land, Teach it plainly in every truth, Gleaning carefully, like ancient TJuth; Converting -inners to God s embrace, To bear the cross with heavenly grace, And be a soldier in the glorious strife, And make atonement for a future life. Be Christ s disciples, and fear no ill, And fearlessly teach the Savior s will; And make it plain to every man, Proving all things from a Bible stand. The work must be so good and true To insure the soul its passport through To the holy city not made with hands, Vriierc sks the kinn of hosanna bands. 134 INDIANA. The streets ire paved in purest gold, And altars adorned in emeralds old. And with sapphires and rubies just awry, Which shines like constellations in the sky. Xo crown of thorns upon the head, But one of joy and love instead. And thus remains the Christian fraternity Throughout the ages of all eternity. A myriad of voices with anthem ring, While noble evangelists lead the van; Like David s harp, it cheers the soul, And encourages one to attain the goal Which rests beyond the starry sky, Where never a soul will say good-bye, But rert eternal around the throne, And join with the saints in "Home, Sweet Home. MY MARY OF MISSOURI. My Mary of Missouri Was quick, and blithe, and shy, A goddess of simplieit} r , With dark and hazel eye. She was as modest as could be, And playful as a kitten; I watched the expression of her face To see she meant no mitten. MY MARY OF MISSOURI. T advanced a little farther And mildly said: "Kind lady, Let s seat ourselves down by the brook, And converse where it is shady. Her cheeks were reddened to a blush, But cutely she assented; We talked about the pinks and ferns, And things so complimented. Her nature was a child of mirth, As things of nature blended; I spoke in tones quite soft and low, Tn words of love intended. The query, though, I never put, But matched some buds and cherries, And watched the mirror of a soul Twas like two image fairies. I concealed my thoughts from one I loved, With flowing, shining tresses; Her face was fair, 1 do declare, And lips were pure caresses. The day was calm and very warm, The woods were fairly humming, When two young hearts were beating fast- Like pheasants they were drumming. We started off a-rambling Among the dell- and bowers; We culled the sweetest ro-es, And all the pretty flowers. 130 INDIANA. The cows lowed in the pastures, And birds were singing sweet; My eyes were on those dimples, Like rubies, in her cheeks. I moved to her some closer, And looked gently in her face, And threw my arms around Her neat and slender waist. My heart felt like twas yearning As neared the time to part- Just then I did discover She had my soul and heart. I asked a future meeting, She bowed with graceful bliss, And, improving precious moment?. I stole a pleasant kiss. I vowed that. I would have her, Tf ever such could be, That she should be my darling And I her fiance. I asked her out for walking Twas only for a plea, And quickly she responded: "I ll journey long with thee." Then raising her golden bracelet- The fairest in the land I placed the shining signet Of love upon her hand. MONEY MOVES. 187 Twas settled then, forever, That we would never part: That T would have a Letter half, And she a loving heart. A cottage on the hill revealed A pleasant country home, Where I reigned jointly as a king, And she heir to the throne. MONEY MOVES. Men s hearts are moved by money, As the wind moves the snow; And it is a great incentive For them to make a show. From the peasant in his cottage To the king upon the throne, You ll find the power of money To be the whole backbone. The jingling of the guinea, And the shining of the dust, Will wear away corrosion And brighten up the rust. Tt will bring us to our duty AVhen everything else would fail; It will stay us in our business, If our efforts are but stale. J3S INDIANA. MARY S LAMB. Mary s laml.) is dead long ago, But young ones just as gay Are running in the fields, you know, And just a? nice at play. MARY S LAMB. The road that Mary went to school Is now macadam or a pike; The boys and girls all break the rules By riding on a bike. LANGUAGE. 139 The old school house is torn away, Xo trace of it is found; But a new one built in modern ways Xow stands upon the ground. The lamb that ate from Mary s hand Has greater advantages now: Since Grace a new invention planned, It sucks the Jersey cow. The Jersey loved the lambkin so She treated it with pride, And everywhere that she would go, It trotted by her side. The children say they will not release The lamb from off the farm. And that they want its pretty fleece To make their stocking yarn. O / And as the years are passing by, You need not think it strange If airships sail beneath the sky, Like meteors in their range. LANGUAGE. Language flows from the lips of him Who speaks with cultured tongue; It s music just as choice as when The organ s keys are sprung. 140 INDIANA. But children learn without a will Those sweetest rippling notes, Absorbing of the teacher s skill His actions largely floats. Good manners should predominate: Fse diligence in every plan: With care in showing to create, Will make the better man. THE WAESHIP MAIXE. The Maine moved onward in her glory, To the tropic isle of Spain, Where she anchored in the harbor, And freedom shrieked in vain. She floated o er the foaming waters, Take the soaring albatross, When the roaring billows threatened And the sea was upward tossed. Then she sailed into Havana harbor, With her ensign to the breeze Just a thing of perfect beauty, Valiant sailors at their ease. But the fiendish Spanish warriors, Filled with murder and rapine, Fired a shot from just beneath her, From an electric magazine. THE WARSHIP MAINE. 141 The good old ship was rent asunder, And our heroes writhed with pain; And now this nation throbs with fervor To redress the wrongs to the battle Maine. This brings to bear the Monroe Doctrine, Severing chains of bonded men, Dating back to some old country By colonizing and ties of ken. Uncle Sam will soon be heeded By ancient powers of kings and queens, "Which lie along the old world oceans, Great in pomp and showy scenes. Every patriotic American citizen Scorns intrusion by a foe, Fearless, dauntless, waiting patient For their orders for to go And uphold the Starry Banner Of the Union strong and grand, Sailing outward on the ocean To the shores of another land. \Ve don t desire the Isle of Cuba, But are longing for to see Her name inscribed like other nations AVith a banner pure and free. 142 INDIANA. THANKSGIVING. The turkeys are so i at and nice, And bounteous crops are clear; We give our thanks for the nation s life, With a festival once a year. In the days of sixty-three and four, When no one knew her fate, We put our trust in Almighty Power To save the old Ship of State. And in the end the right prevailed, Xo ribs or keel were rent, But onward against the tide she sailed, On a glorious mission bent. And when the close was surely known, Our hearts beat free but still: The caiiM of liberty was widely sown O er woodland, vale and hill. Xo color line divides us now, Our wounds have healed quite well; And all to the same Omnipotent bow, With free, unrestrained good will. We thank the Lord who gave the strength This blessing to secure, And bring a struggle to an end We hope will long endure. A COUNTRY SAWMILL WAGON. 14. Xo men arc now dragged through the street, And papers burned with ire; The press is free with moral sheet, If it can find a buyer. Xo railroads on the tunnel .plan, But on an elevation, And lie who rides must be a man A part of a living nation. Xow all of this was brought about By pluck and might together: The boys in blue did freely shout Their blood did stain the heather. And thus we have Thanksgiving Day To commune and bless each other, "When we can sing and talk and pray, And commingle like a brother. A COUNTRY SAWMILL WAG OX. Some wheels were thick and some were thin, I blocked the log on with a pin. And through the hounds was thrust a pole To stop the haggard-looking hole. Rome chains were large and some were small, And some could not be found at all; It is the very best pattern of the kind, And neither wheel will fall in line. 144 INDIANA. A wonderful thing is the coupling pin- It s crooked without and crooked within; The bolsters were staid up with a wire, "\Vhich played a tune like an ancient lyre. And in the world it has no peer It s rattled along for many a year; But I must confide unto a friend: It s good enough to keep and lend. It has gone through woods and through the mire, And over the rocks which sparkled fire; But on it went, with teamster friend, Until it met a final end. It struck a bowlder a heavy jolt, Which broke the axles and severed a bolt; Then came a crash amidst mud and rain There in a heap it still remains. A CHARACTERIZED SCHOOL. In the upper camp the boss is large, He runs his boat just like a barge, And now I think he is aground You ought to hear him blow and sound. A COUNTRY ELDER. This teacher s name is firorgic Shuhx, lie courts UK- girls by I teling pulse; And when he s far in ilie abyss, He seals the bargain with a kiss. In the lower camp the beet; are thick, And Homer stirs em with a stick; lie bids them all to be quite still, His voice is very harsh and shrill You d think it was a raging storm, Or the devil s imp in uniform. A COUNTRY ELDEE. An elder once, whose name was Claron, Was hunting cows one starry night; He did not meet the rose of Sharon, But fell into a pretty plight. By chance he passed a suitor s mansion, And leaned so gently on the gate: As two young men went by to sanction, This praying elder pulled his freight. He turned his face in shadowed darkness, For fear he would suspicion rouse: "Halloo, my boy, bad time o night That you arc out a-hunting cows." 11 INDIANA. "This is A sight quite pretty, deacon, Silent prayers are heard above; Xo wonder that you look so sneakin When you re out a-making love "With another man s poor maiden, When he s off a-teaching school: Just because he s heavy laden, You try to play him for a fool. DEATH OF D. W. VOORHEES. > He has served at the bar of justice, With all his skill and power; His strength was that of <a giant, An orator was his dower. His voice was sweet and musical, The ear twould fairly charm; His metaphors like the Savior s, This hero of the farm. He s served in the nation s Congress ; And did his work so well That all are singing praises Who mourn his loss to tell. He served the people valiantly, Their cause he did defend: Like Cincinnatus, the chieftain,- He served them to the end. THE FROG. Oh, the noble things of wisdom For which he gave his might, And stood so peer and manly Until he got it right. He advocated building A national library tall and wide, And lived io see it completed, Whatever may betide. But the Savior s knocking, calling For spirits when they re right, And taking home his children From darkness into light. So He claimed this national hero, Whose name was rightly given, To come and meet the angels Before the bar of heaven. And in the hour of darkness, \Yhen the stars were shining bright, The soul of the Indianian Took its upward course or flight. THE FROG. The frog sits on the old mill dam, And catches bugs and flies, And when he hears a noise at hand, He just leaps in and dives. 148 INDIANA. You can sec his kicking legs, At which you re sure to gaze, And see the moving of the dregs In little circling waves. THE FRCG. And when he reaches the other .shore, You ll hear him halloo again; It may be like some distant roar, Or like the bleating lamb. And as you re passing some old pond, You d think the demon s there, To hear them halloo from each frond, A lesdon of voices rare. PEARL BRYAN S FATE. 141 And when you look around to find What made the tragic sound. You ll see that you are far behind Xo trace of them is found. And if you chance to locate one, You need not be surprised, For just above the slimy scum You ll see his piercing eyes. And if the coast is not so clear That he would like to land, He ll duck again, so much in fear, And seek some other strand. The tree-frog is so very odd, And yet he s very strange: His color changes from a clod To things on which they range. PEA EL BRYAX S FATE. Pretty Pearl Bryan had an elegant home, With flowers and green pastures whither she roamed; Her face like a rosebud, and teeth snowy white. A gem of pure beauty a star of the night. There came to this cottage, in care of AVill W<.od, A wooer, Scott Jackson, an imp of the lewd. And betrayed this kind maiden. herheart he did break, Who laid down her life for a villain s sake. 150 INDIANA. He absconded to Cincinnati, and dentistry took. And left a true love he willfully forsook, To pine in true nature a false, fickle friend, He never intended his ways for to mend. There came a quick message: U 0h! come to mr. dear, I never once thought how I treated you here. Oh, come to me, darling. I ll make it all right: Make your departure in shadow of night." Shrill shrieked the whistle, she then bade adieus, And soon there was flying this wonderful news. She s safe in Queen City, a medium is found, And her future destiny this witch does expound . She goes to the station her steps to retake, Where "Walling consoles her, which is a mistake. A carriage is procured for making a drive, When this poor girl is last seen alive. A darkey was secured as coachman in disguise, To the shore of Kentucky they quickly arrive; These steeds of assassins are making good stride To a place in the bushes, their mischief to hide. The carriage is stopped by the side of the road, Where two cruel wretches have landed their load; With cocaine and dagger these fiends, tis said, Relieved this poor damsel of a beautiful head. PEARL UKYAN S FATE. 151 When the moon s rays reflected the bright, shining steel, She fainted within and began for to kneel. "Oh, God, save the distressed, and care for me quick! Take me to heaven." Then came the death lick. She sank on the leaflets, her blood stained the thyme; Thus ended the most brutish of modern crime All for the lusts or passions of men, Whose doom is the scaffold or work in the pen. The darkey is frightened nigh unto death. \nd (lees with the horses that s throbbing for breath, And leaves the two murderers afoot for to flee, Witli the head in a satchel, as bloody as can bo. A search of their clothing reveals spots crimson red, Hut where, Oh! where is the poor victim s head? Tis sunk in the liver, or hid in the ground, Xever, tis supposed, by man to be found. Xow these Herods are landed inside of a jail, And leave the old parents to weep and to wail The loss of their darling, so dear unto them, Slain by assassins imps of good men. A mob is now raising: they quake, it is said, And feel the cold chill- at the loss of their heads. . v n appeal is now taken to Kentucky for fear Tis only a-hn-tening to meet the cold bier. lf)2 INDIANA. These men they must hang, the jury did say, Until they are dead, a debt for to pay, For killing a maiden just in her beauty and bloom, And now lies headless in a mouldering tomb. They ascended the scaffold a ransom of blood; The trap door is sprung, and Oh! what a thud! Two bodies are swinging at the end of a cord, Their spirits ascended to the court of our Lord. Xo telling which way the spirits will go Whether tis up, or far, far below; One thing is certain: tis better by odds To be a good person, a child of God s. BOTANICAL SCIKXCE. Our botany comes from Linnanis of old, And to my mind it seems so cold; Peering through those stalks and stipes, My mind does wander as I write. By subterranean we view beneath the ground, And find those things that support the frond, And merge them into parts that suit All other ones above the root. By aerial we view the crown, Within which the germ is i ound, As it nods in the waving air, Closed within its capsule hair. TIIIC CRITIC PRO TKM. And as tlic petals die and go, The seed is ready for to sow, "Which is done by nature s hand, Seeding all the flowery land. By the biting of the frost The strength of nature all is lost; The shell is cracked, the stoma opes, And in the air the seed now floats. THE CRITIC PRO TEM. A critic once had lots of cheek, He treated people very indiscreet; To slander them he thought it fun The imp, the rascal thus begun. lie sought the weak to get a clew, His very language would make one spew, And would throw the bile from off the liver The rubbish of this grammar-giver. P>y chance he thought he d change the scene And introduce a weather bulletin; I ut by the by it proved so hard The signal came on a mourning card. It seemed to him to be most neat To brand the pupils of things not meek; But all of thi- is like one vain Seeking others to lay the blame. lf>4 INDIANA. AYABASH COLLEGE. In days of forests primeval, "When people knew little but roam, There arose an enlightening upheaval To educate people at home. WABASH COLLEGE. The idea was sown to germinate In an edifice great and grand, "Twas not known twould terminate With such fame throughout the land. WABASH COLLEGE. loo Its name was christened in glory By those who carried it through; Their heads grew frail and quite hoary Twas greater than anyone knew. It grew like a thing of God s rearing, Slowly and firmly, by degrees, By mites and similar clearing^ By donors like Whitlock and Simon Yande? There s knowledge for every poor creature That thirsts to illumine the soul; Tis this the embodied great feature To reach the enlightening goal. The builders were men of great station, Achieving and embellishing a land, Adorning the might of a nation Which forever and ever shall stand. Already its fame s unbounded, By the speeches and literature of those Who have passed the degrees of her portals And astonished her friends and her foes. Come all and drink of the fountain \Vhich develops soul, body and mind, And try like Moses the mountain, And see what jewel you ll find. l )C INDIANA. JIM ELMOKE S BEST. Jim Elmore, the sweet poet of "Riplry lown-liip, has given us the following seasonable gem: In the spring of the year, When the hlood is too thick, There is nothing so rare As the sassafras stick. It cleans up the liver, It strengthens the heart, And to the whole system Xew life doth impart. Sassafras, oh, sassafras! Thou art the stuff for me! And in the spring I love to sing, Sweetest sassafras, of thee. When the Journal last week received a poem extoll ing the virtues of sassafras, to which poem was affixed the signature of James B. Elmore, we thought that the poet was nodding. The poem failed to contain the fire and the sweet rhythmical flow which charac terizes the productions of the genius of old Bipley, still it was published for the sake of the signature it bore, as, indeed, are many other productions we wot of in the leading papers and magazines of the land. DUDES AND SASSAFRAS We are glad to state this week that the poem bore a forged name. Mr. Elmore didn t write it, as the fol lowing from him will show: "Mr. Editor There was a piece of stale poetry in your most excellent paper of last week on sassafras, which was attributed to James B. Elmore. I would .*ay it is no child of mine. It is an illegitimate off cast, or else its father would have owned it. My poems are printed over my signature. The following is a genuine in compliment to the so-called fake: DUDES AND SASSAFRAS. Some people feign would be a poet With their cheek of brazen brass, As they fill their empty stomachs With the juice of sassafras. They are dudes from in the city, With a pole and line for bass, As they stroll by sparkling brooklets Hunting roots of sassafras. Some bring their paramour and flagons Eillod with corn fermented gas, As they walk the dells and valleys In pursuit of sassafras, 158 INDIANA. When their blood is dark and ruddy. And their skin is a mottled mass, They take a small decoction From the roots of sassafras. Some mistake the characteristics Of this tree with houghs like tinted grass, And have nsed the nanseons elder, Which removed their brains in mass. Xow when your mind is wandering, And your meter is stale in cast, Don t insinuate on bards and farmers But just take your sassafras. THE rorXTRY BOY. 15 . THE COUNTRY BOY. "THE country hoy is born amidst the broad fields A and lovely forests, and is monarch of all he sur veys, lie enjoys all the pleasures of the farm, and learns to work at will, which gives him health, strength and a good constitution. lie looks into na ture with an ever wakeful eye, which is giving culture to his mind and giving him an education greater than the dry printed matter of a dozen books. He is the idol of the household, doing errands for his mothtr until he is old enough to drive a horse and use n plow; then he is in the care of his father. But he never for gets the kind, gentle words of a fond, loving mother, lie is in the fields every day with the men, and is being skilled in the arts of farming; and, growing up to manhood with his father s business, his keen per ception take it all in at a glance. lie is inured to toil, and is not afraid to work. lie learns tin 1 hard ships and privations which sometimes befall the farm ers when the season is not favorable for a crop. This little fellow breathes the pure, whole-ome air, .-Unrated with the odor of a thousand blossoms, and hi- brings the cows home from the pastures, which 160 INDIANA, furnished the scene for M. IT. Krout s poem. "Little Brown Hands": "They drive home the cows from the pasture. Up through the long, shady lane. Where the quail whistles loud in the wheat fields That are yellow with ripening grain. They toss the new hay in the meadow, They gather the elder-blooms white. They find where the dusky grapes purple In the soft-tinted October light. They know where the apples hang ripest And are sweeter than Italy s wines, They know where the fruit hangs the thickest On the long, thorny blackberry vines." In the summer time these boys go barefooted, and sometimes poorly clothed; and they chase the bril- liant-hued butterfly in 1m flight from flower to flower, and are so alert as to bring him down with a single swoop of their hats. It is a great pleasure to them to ramble in the woods on days when not at work, and see the pretty birds and playful squirrel leap from bough to bough. They gather the sweetest flowers for bouquets, and berries for to eat. They go a-fish- ing down to the little brook that runs through the pasture, and catch the red-sided minnows, of Avhich they are as proud as if they had found a gold coin. How proud they are when they can use their father s gun and go hunting all by themselves! It may be THE COUNTRY I5OY. 161 that when they find game they will he so anxious that they will forget to put down powder, and have to re turn home without any fun: hut they have to learn, and will know better next time. You must not forget that these boys are only small men, upon whose shoul ders the great ship of state rests for her future exist ence: and they must not be kept too close at home. They must be allowed to go to town and see the cars and shows, and all the amusements possible, for it leaves impressions on their minds which the cares of a lifetime cannot obliterate. These things make up the garner of the mind, and furnish it so bountifully with food, which portray these beautiful lines: "Then Nature, the old nurse, took the boy upon her knee, Saying: Here is a story book thy father has. given to thee. They must have some schooling, so they can apply themselves better to their task, and when they get an opportunity to go to school, T assure you that they will improve the time. They seem to apply them selves better to their books than the city youth. \vho have a great deal better opportunities, as they have so little to do, and have so much longer terms of school. But they should bear in mind that there is no gain without irrcat effort on their part, and that prosperity is not a child of sloth. It may be that they neglect 12 162 INDIANA. their studies for the pleasures of the city, which are very enticing to the young and demoralizing in effect. Abraham Lincoln, \vho was nicknamed "The Kail- Splitter," was a country boy, and learned to read by the light of a tallow candle while his mother spun stocking yarn with her humming wheel. James A. Garfield was another, who drove a horse on the tow- path for a canal boat. And William Henry Harrison was another, who was dubbed the log cabin candidate. But still they arose to fame, and serve as a useful ex ample to many a boy to encourage him in his effort?. But these are only a few of the many instances I might cite to you where farmers boys riave arisen to fame. Xo wonder that Robert Burns wrote: "Mam 7 a noble heart beats beneath a ragged vest. I have noticed in our country towns that fewer of the boys rise to distinction than those of the country. The country boy rises early and feeds his father s stock, and hurries off to school on a winter s morning, with his cheeks as red as a rose by passing through the chilly blasts of winter. Xo wonder, under these cir cumstance?, and with such a struggle to brave the storm of life, they may become great and useful men. They get the physical as well as the mental training, which is just as essential for their future happiness. Colleges have built gymnasiums for their students to take exercise, and have groves to imitate the forests; but thev fall far short of these natural environments, THE COUNTRY BOY. Also, the college boys have instituted a modern game of football, which borders just as close to heathenism as the gladiatorial shows of Greece and Rome or the arena of Mexico. It is true that a farmer s life is not all pleasure and happiness, but it affords many useful lessons that otherwise they would not get. Country life keeps boys away from the city, until they are mature in years, and then they arc not so liable to learn the many vices, and slang phrases, which the city belle and dandy delight in using for mere pastime, for want of something better for the mind to work upon. The mind should always be employed on something whole some or useful, for it is never at rest, and if not cm- pi overl it wanders on trivial things; and in the r-.ouu- try these useful tilings are always at hand, varying from the most beautiful to the sublime. You will notice that the Savior, in His beautiful parables and metaphors, always used these natural illustrations, mid also all writers and poets, in their sweetest songs and pithy sarcasm, drew upon the most remarkable scenes of real life as a basis for their works. Country life instills into a person a desire for free dom, and encouraged the Boston boys to defy General Gage and the redcoats when breaking their ice; and ibis same spirit enthused General Andrew Jackson to decline to black an Knglish officer s boots, for which he received a sword-cut wound that lie carried to his 164 grave. It was this same spirit and ambition which animated Horatius to hold the bridge over the Tiber, leading to Rome, against a whole army, while t\vo ir.en cut it in two, and he then leaped into the river and swam to shore. And it was this same love of liberty that caused the people of Rome to crown Cincinnati!? king while plowing in his field with a yoke of oxen: and when he had served his mission, he resigned his kingship and returned to his home an heroic example for the world. So if you desire a great feat to be done, or a hardship to be borne, you wi 1 ! be safe in leaving it to a country boy. INTEIU IUJAX RAILWAY, Hiding on a street ear, Speeded by a wire Bless me ! it is pleasant Riding on the flyer. Passing on the highway, By the farm and dell. Viewing many pretty things, Scenes I love so well. Farmers, get you ready, And make this modern change; .It will enliven ev ry product With which it is in range. THK MODERN WOODMAN. 1H5 Transported with your produce To a business town, Plenty in your pockets When markets quick arc found. 1 iding for a pittance Bless me ! it is fun. Grant the needed franchise, And let the flyer come. Uural transportation Makes a business go ; If you don t believe it, Try, and then you ll kno\v. The handy mileage station Accommodates the whole, And quickens all the pulses, And animates the soul. THE MODERN WOODMAN. Woodman ! protect your wife From hunger and from shame She is the jewel of your life, And bears your only name. Stand by her while you live, Protect her when alone: True love to you she ll give, The idol of vour home. 166 Prepare that, when you re gone, Plenty will be there. The Woodman is toiling on With virtue pure and rare. Let not the children cry And disturb a mother s breast ; Be sure that when you die, Your policy gives them rest. Go join the brotherhood While you are hale and strong; There s none so pure and good To help poor souls along. There s plenty now in store For those who stand in need ; Ours is the shining shore, For friendship is our creed. neighbor ! sow the seed Of woodcraft throughout the land ; The union is not for greed, But to extend a helping hand. Let each mild zephyr blow Laden with rich perfume : You by this incense know That friends surround your tomb. June 8, 1000. WHEN I WAS YOUNG. 167 WHEN I WAS YOUNG. When I was young and cheeks were fair, I had a rustic woodland air; I wandered o er the shady hills, Where bloomed the pretty daffodils When I was young. I strolled along the sparkling brook. For shining pebbles I would look ; And many a pretty, shining shell I found and gave to little Nell When I was young. 1 sought the pleasant woodbine shade, And played " keep store * with many a maid. This morn of life so soon was passed, It was so sweet it could not last- When I was young. In corded grapevines I would swing; The woods with music loud did ring; The very earth was all in tune; Twas just the fullness of life s noon When I was young. I went to school, a little man ; To play and romp was all my plan ; I threw sweet kisses cross the room At youth and beauty, bud and bloom- When I was vounir. 168 INDIANA. But I have passed through all my teens, Yet youthful pleasures haunt my dreams. I m standing by a purling brook. In its waters I stood to look When I was young. My mind threw off its load of care, A boy again I m standing there; The moon expelled the shades of night. The shoals all gleamed with silver liirht When I was young. My hair is streaked with shades of gray. No youthful pleasures now for aye. I long for days that ne er can come, That once were full of joy and fun When I was young. The wings of morning passed me by, And left me there alone to sigh And think how oft my feet had trod Along that brook with fishing rod When I was young. TO A BIRD. Ki .t TO A BIRD. 0, sing me a song, Sweet bird of my choice, And fill my dear <oul With the notes of thy voice. Sitting high on a bough As it s tilting away. Let your sweet melody Be cheery to-day. (Jay and light-hearted, Dear friend of the wood, Your songs so impress me With the lives of the good, And bring to my memory The bright things of our May, Which drive away sorrow As the sun lights the day. Yet brighter ami brighter Are our lives at our home As the rays of pure sunshine In harmony are known. Like the song of the singer, Our heart must be pure, So loving, so childlike, If we would endure. 170 Inspired is the singer Which you so much love, And the voice of the angels Xow answers above. OUR FATHER. Our father sat in his easy-chair And whiled the time away ; His hair was white as the snow to the sight, An emblem of a better day. His youth was like the flowers that gro\v Along the purling brook ; But he s traveled sublime the sand? of time. And taken a different look. His form was bent by the toil of years For the ones he loved the best ; It soothed his care with blessings rare As a treasure he saved for rest. His children he loved, and guided each day. And taught them lessons of good ; But they have flown to homes of their own, Like the nestlings of the wood. He often mused o er things gone by, When his wife was a bright-blooming flower, And the children would cry for a sweet lullaby From a voice like a falling star. WHEN THE PAWPAWS ARK RIPE. 171 But she is gone to realms unknown, Where they know not of sorrow nor woe, To rest in peace with the queens of the East, Where never mortal can go. Our father poor soul ! with tottering step, Still yearns for the river of life, And is wandering at will up Zion s hill To meet his loved children and wife. WHEN THE PAWPAWS AKE RIPE. When the autumn days are coming, And it s getting cool o nights, Then I love to take a ramble, When the pawpaws are ripe. When the leaves are turning golden, Streaked in autumn s purest dight, Then I love to shake the bushes, When the pawpaws are ripe. Then the city chaps are coming. With their lasses tripping light. And they shake the clumps of bushes, When the pawpaws are ripe. Then the possum is getting sassy, And his coat is not so white ; And the colored coons are hunting, When the pawpaws are ripe. 172 Then the possums climb the bushes, And they curl their tails aright liound a limb that is richly laden, When the pawpaws are ripe. Glorious scenes of loving childhood, When our life is pure and bright, And we ramble in the forest When the pawpaws are ripe. These are pleasures worth recalling To the aged ones dim of sight. For they hear the fun and laughter When the pawpaws are ripe. Like the papyrus reed of Egypt, These trees are passing out of sight, And there ll he no place for hunting When the pawpaws are ripe. September 16, 1000. STICK TO YOUR CALLTXtt. T have wandered to the town Where old Midas hung around Long ago ; And the counters, filled, overflowing. Seemed like fortunes fast were growing By such show. STICK TO YOUR GAINING. 173 Ev rything was neatly shining. While the merchant was repining At his trade ; Newer things were always coming, And the spindles sweet were humming In the shade. But poor labor it was wanting Idle show is always vaunting In its way. Don t believe in vain appearing. Nor sweet stories you are hearing Ev ry day. Stick to your humble calling, It just needs some overhauling For the time ; Don t believe in this or that, Nor the fame of some grown fat In Klondike clime. All will surely coino out well, As we ve heard the poet tell To a friend; Stick the closer to your trade. Then your fortune will be made In the end. Never let bold specters rise To allure you otherwise Than the right ; 174 They are like some \vanton boy- Playing idly with their toys To the sight. Rolling stones ne er gather moss: Like the breakers, they are tossed O er the lea. But if yon would make a starv. From each day just set apart, Small it be. Floating hubbies soon will burst, And the surface look the worse For their life. Lit I le treasure can exist By our taking too much risk In such st ri fe. The illusive FJdorado May be swept, like a tornado. Far away : But by holding to each penny. Yon will have bright dollar^ many For a stay. February 26, 1900. MY SWEETHEAK T OF LOXG AGO. T once had a sweetheart In my youth of long ago: "Twas in my school days that T met her. And true love w&- wont to flow. MY SWEETHEART OF LONG AGO. 175 My heart was young and tender, And she was blithe and gay, And I always sought her company When the time would come to play. We would hunt the pretty mosses And the flowers of brilliant hue Which were emblems of affection In the hearts of lovers true. We would write our little verses, Which we passed across the room ; They were sweeter than the daisies Or the lilies full in bloom. Ev ry word was but a picture, Like a crystal in the snow From the heart a true inscription, As young lovers hearts o erflow. And the kisses that I threw her She would answer just the same; From her lips as pure as nectar, Like sweet honeydew they came. We played many a game of ball. Which we called " three-cornered cat ; " And she always did the striking. For I would not take the bat. She would laugh and shake her tresses As she shyly glanced at me. With such pretty, roselike dimples On her cheeks so fair to see. 176 We would often "drop the kerchief." 1 ran the circuit round and round Until 1 came behind my May, Then I dropped the kerchief down. She had many a graceful charm, With brow so fair and eyes so mild : Her life was like a rippling stream On which Dame Xature looked and smiled. We would run the " circling mill," And tap the chosen on the back ; Then would come a race competing, llmming round the miller s track. If we caught the tagging miller, He must still keep in the race Until he beat the one in running And got within the vacant place. Wood tag." too, was a favorite game With the gayer boys and girls. 1 would always watch my May, With her waving, glossy curls: If she stepped upon the ground. She would get a gentle tap: Then she must become the catcher Until she caught a heedless chap. : Black man then was on the schedule As we spent our time in play: We would run and catch each other And would while the time awav. MV SWKKTHEART (>! J.oNC. AGO. Kv rv day was like a springtime. Full of maiiv buds and flowers Merrymaking , full of sunshine, Which adorned youth s happy hours. Often we would have a spelling/ And invite our neighboring schools; \\ e would try our best to beat them, Xo matter what would be the rules. \Ve chose 1 these times to get together And to meet the charming lass; You could hear the gayest laughter As the bells and cutters passed. \Ye would hang around the doorway To see the boys hunt out a mate. Some would hang on like a tether. And some would get a hearty shake; Then the hoys would laugh and titter As the girls would shy away. Those with grit would try another. For their hearts were blithe and gay Often we would have a party In the neighborhood around; Ev ry youngster in the country Would be there so hale and sound. We would choose our favorite lasses For the tune of " weevly wheat: " Up and down the floor we tripped it, Planting kisses on their cheeks. 178 INDIANA. The " miller boy " was a favorite pastime, With a pawn above your head; The owner must some way redeem it With three yards of tape instead. Every yard must have a marking With a stamp of loving bliss. Nothing could be half so jolly As we gave the meting kiss. We sometimes made a " double shovel/ Or a flaring " sugar bowl ; " It was a scene so fit for laughing As the parties took their toll ; Everything went off as lovely As though a rabbit s foot of charm Played the part of merrymaking With the youngsters from the farm. " Post oifice," too, seemed just in order, With two watchdogs at the door ; If the wrong one was approaching. Then the sentinels barked the more. But some mail is in the office. And some one must go and see ; If the right one is approaching. The vicious curs will silent be. Hut there came a day of sorrow, When the term of school must close, And we little, youthful lovers Felt the pangs of parting woes ; JENNIE S RIDE. 179 And erelong there came another From a village by the sea, And I never could recover The old love May had for me. He was tall and very handsome, And his heart was full of glee; And he stole the heart of May, Which I thought she had for me. But I ll always long to see her, For the dart of Cupid shines While a spark of life is glowing And the loving heart repines. JENNIE S EIDE. Little Jennie rode a " hike " Like an arrow down the pike. She is blithe as any roe, Cheeks as sweet as billet-doux. Many a lad in passing by Cast a look of longing eye, And vied with envy as they passed The charming beauty of the lass. Now one joins the maiden s side For a pleasant talk and ride : They are moving on first slow, Then faster, faster still they go. The speed is turning to a chase. And many a rider joins the race Jennie s beauty, tried and true, Is the idol of .he crew. JENNIE S RIDE. She is gaining on the crowd, Shout on shout is heard aloud, And the champion by her side Is behind about a stride. "THE BARD OF AI.AMO." 181 But he tries and tries in vain ; She will beat him, just the same. Then she glanced back at her dm in Half in earnest, half in fun. Now they reach a country town. Telephones had brought it down ; All are out in mass to see. .Jennie laughed so heartily. She had beat the bandy legs, And carried safe a crate of eggs From her little cottage home, Where in pleasure she did roam. Xow, you boys with head in whirl Must never race a country girl ; For the vigor they possess Speeds a "hike " like the express. M;uvh 16, 1900. "TI-IR BARD OF ALAMO." Illustrious living, mighty dead. Famous in war or peace, Xow cover your diminished head And let your paeons cease. Your laurels bring, your garlands weave, And fitting praise bestow Upon our modern prince of verse, " The Bard of Alamo." ]S2 INDIANA. Ye men of wisdom and renown, In distant lands or near, Who wield the scepter, wear the crown, And rule by love or fear ; Give praise to him whose lines in clear Exquisite cadence flow As fresh and crisp as mountain air, "The Bard of Alamo." Ye glittering hosts of classic stars That deck the sky of fame, Welcome to your proud galaxy One who deserves the name ; And e en you lesser lights, a due Appreciation show Of him who wears the poet s crown. " The Bard of Alamo." BY A FHIEXD. THE LADIES ATHENIAX CLUB. All hail the ladies of Crawfordsville For the nohle work they do ! They seem to have the force of will For the club and belles-lettres, too. They teach the lessons as they ought. As mothers fraught with care, And bring from chaos and from naught Good blessings ev rywhere. THE LADIES ATHENIAN CLUB. 188 Athens was thought to be the place Of all learning and of power ; But here we find it in the chase And in the gilded tower. Give your noble work renown, As women think they should, And seek for knowledge in the town And in the sylvan wood. Teach thy lessons by precept And reading precioiis books ; Give the mind time to reflect And to permeate the nooks. Let your Avork go on and on, And bring more to the fold ; Never let a chance be gone But shines like a gem of gold. Then you re building to the sky For women and mortal men ; Seek to win the glorious prize And take along your ken ; Learn to know that in our noon Is the time to work and build, Before this life or setting sun Sinks neath the western hills. January IS, 1900. (Written for the Ladies Athenian Club, of Crawfordsville.) 1S4 INDIANA. DE OL PLANTATION. I long fur de ol plantation, Wid de inornin s cheery song, When our massa fed and cloved us, And de mule jest poked along ; And we j ined de birds in de chorus, As we went our labors through, Wid de warbles ob de mornin : " T-la-e, t-la-e, t-la-e-hoo ! " Den we picked de downy cotton Wid de buxom cullud chile, An ol massa kept a-trottin , But we s sparkin all de while ; Air we thought about de cabin Whar we used to lub an coo, An we played an sung ob eb nin s : "T-la-e, t-la-e, t-la-e-hoo!" 0, de blackbirds sing no sweeter Dan de happy cullud coon ; Dah can be no better meter Dan de cotton-pickin tune. It brings back de ol plantation, Wid its scenes so clear to view; I can hear de echoes ringin : " T-la-e. t-la-e. t-la-e-hoo ! " DK OI, PLANTATION. So 1 joyed myself in pleasure Til of massa sol my Cloe, Den I got my traps togedder An I started for Canido; But I nebber can fergit her, An de pickaninnies, too, An de mornin dat I lef her " T-la-e, t-la-e, t-la-e-hoo ! " Now my heart is sad an tender Fur de one I s lef behin , But E a Hers will remember Dat good ol snnny clime; But now I s sad an lonely. An my heart is throbbin . too, For dear Cloe to jine de chorus : " T-la-e, t-la-e, t-la-e-hoo ! " Xow I s gwine to Mississippi. An hunt ol Dixie through For my darlin Cloe an Kittle, An I will my lub renew. Her lips were like molasses, An my arms aroun her flew, An I sung as noble Croasus: " T-la-e, t-la-e, t-la-e-hoo ! " 180 INDIANA. L AWT ON 8 BRIGADE. Brave Lawton strove to do his best In peace or deadly war, And by his men was ever blessed A coward he did abhor. The cannon boomed about his tent, The shrapnels whistled, too, And through his lines they made a rent, But brave were the boys in blue. The bugle call was sounded then, The copse was just behind ; Lawton called unto his men : "Fall inline! Fall inline!" They soon obeyed the General s call And plied the shining steel ; A shower of American minie balls Made the Philippines reel. " Charge ! Forward ! Give them the bayonet ! " Their hearts beat quick and fast. Click, click, click ! the dagger is set, Then forward they go in mass. " Steady, boys ; steady, steady, steady ; Carry your solid ranks." They extend their lines; then all is ready; No chance to turn their flanks. LAWTON S BRIGADE. 187 They meet in deadly combat there, And fight right hand to hand ; Some are pierced through with the spear, And some bleed on the sands. They waver then and break away, Our heroes follow aft ; We win again in mortal fray, The mongrels sore we pressed. " On, brave boys, on on ! We mean to do or die. A noble vict ry you have won Beneath this tropic sky. A private cautioned brave Lawton then Sharpshooters were so near ; But in the jungle or the glen, He laughed at thought of fear. He turned around to give commands, Which were his last behest ; The noble soul threw up his hands, For a ball had pierced his breast. He fell back in a comrade s arms. For they had loved him best Who saw him fight, and knew his charms Surpassed quite all the rest. His lasi words were : " Push on the cause ! Think of your native land, Which has such pure and wholesome laws. And spurns th oppressor s hand. 188 INDIANA. Go tell my wife that here I die The death of a soldier brave.; And tell her not to mourn and cry We ll meet beyond the grave." That night a woman s heart beat fast And throbbed at her aching breast, As she offered up a last sad prayer For the one she loved the best : " God, wilt thou take my husband home To reign with the saints above, And crown him heir around the throne, Where Christ is light and love? " That mother now is left alone, An ideal nation s love ; A light has all around her shone, Which does our blessings prove. She ne er can want, for gen rous hands Are ready to bestow All the gifts of a Christian land On one who met the foe. January 30, 1900. THE POET. The poet lives in thoughts above The blue ethereal sky ; His thoughts are close akin to love When Xature meets his eye. THE POET. 189 He fancies many a thing of art Beyond the sculptor s hand : Grand and noble, pure at heart, The greatest gift to man. Things which please are at his will, And colored highly, too ; Tic must portray them mirrored still To the patient reader s view. He goes beyond the av rage soul. Where saints immortal reign. And hears sweet songs of music roll, And joins the sweet refrain. lie peers in space just as it were A fairy s golden lane, Traveled by some sea nymphs rare, And gives to each a name. Inspired are they who sing sweet lays By the great invisible choir. Who write and sing in holy praise To the echoes of David s* lyre. Born they are with songs of cheer In words of sweetest rhythm, Breathing melodies to the ear So near akin to heaven. February 8, 1900. * David is the oldest poet known. 190 INDIANA. A SONNET. The mill of time grinds slowly, Yet it grinds both great and small. From the pressure of the fall, Where the rushing waters flow, Onward, onward, it will go To the deep, unfathomed sea. Grinding, grinding it will he Where the pearl and rubies glow ; Yet there must come time to rest. When the Master grinds the grist And the flour is made just so, In the good we find the hest Not a mixed or speckled list, Like the mill that grinds below. January 30, 1900. OUR BABY. Little baby in the crib, Playing nicely with his bib. He is pretty, I declare. With such flowing curly hair; Just the image of his ma. Blue eyes shining like his pa ; He will coo a little song, Happy elfin all day long. OUR BABY. 191 0, the pretty dimpled cheeks ! Mamma kiss em cause they re sweet. Lips like ruby glowing, too Just as sweet as honeydew ; Light is beaming from his eyes, Shine like sparkles in the sky A little cherub from above, Purest tie of family love. Look up, baby, let me see Our sweet darling full of glee, Playing in his willow cot, Sweetest little forget-me-not. Like a rose we cherish him, Tap him lightly on the chin, Then he will look up and coo Brighter days we never knew. Play on, baby ; let us see ; You re as pure as angels be. Jabbering as he tries to talk, Feet a-longing for to walk. Stand up, darling ; do not fear ; Take a step for mamma, dear. But he topples and will fall : First the baby learns to crawl. Guy or Clarence is his name : Angels brought him as they came From the dotted starry sky For his mamma s longing eye. 192 He will fondle on her breast, With her arm about him pressed. Never can a sunbeam fall, But it shines a light for all. February 12, 1900. LIFE. Life is like a bubbling spring Flowing onward as a brook, With myriad voices echoing Along its course from ev ry nook ; Yet smoothly flow the waters by Where grasses grow and gently wave, The wind blows calmly with a sigh Where fishes bask and children lave. Beautiful scenes lie along the stream As you travel down the living fount, A shining light in the distance gleams As the purling waters are tossed about. Now tis running eddy-smooth. Anon tis dashing onward down, And, chafing in its narrow groove. A voice is heard of murm ring sound. So it is with the living soul Moving onward o er the brake, Striving, yearning to reach the goal. Like the river to the lake, LIFE. 193 It must pass some stony place, Where breakers heave and billows toss ; So near akin to the human race, Xo life endures without some loss. Dewdrops sparkle in the sun, A gleam of light shines in the deep, Xo time to rest till life is run And it has gone where sages sleep. So the river runs its way Onward, onward to the sea; Xever can it stop and say: " I m content, so let me be/ Let us do our might to-day, Time well spent is never lost ; Light of heart and always gay Will save the ship where breakers toss. Stand at the helm and watch the fate Of those who never look for flaws, And keep in view the Beautiful Gate, Observing pure Nature s laws. So runs the stream of life alway To reach the mystic realm above, Still achieving, still we may, Where hearts are full of perfect love. Xever let vague phantoms rise To mar the ties of friendship true ; But wing thy way beyond the skies, Where Christ i * glory beckons you. February 24, 1900. 194 INDIANA. POETS ARE BOKN, NOT MADE. Worry we may, if we wish, At the favoritism displayed; No use to kick gainst the pricks, For poets are born, not made. The Muses, so lavish with favors, With garlands and crowns have arrayed The children of favored Montgomery, For poets are born, not made. The place of our birth condemns us, The gods would lend us no aid ; Parnassus slopes up from Montgomery, And poets are born, not made. We reverence do to " Old Wabash," We would walk in her classical shade ; But she is unable to help us, For poets are born, not made. We ve tried it again and again, For inspiration we ve prayed; But failure our portion forever, For poets are born, not made. 0, happy, happy Montgomery ! Till our debt to Nature be paid We never shall cease to regret That poets are born, not made. THE BUGGY. 195 Write it in letters of fire, In letters that never can fade Yes, letters of fire will answer That poets are born, not made. THE BUGGY. If you desire a buggy To ride and give you rest, You should buy an "A" grade; It certainly is the best. It is just a dandy, If you desire to call And escort your best girl To a country ball. You have nothing for to fear, It is so good and strong : It is on a perfect gear, You swiftly glide along. The wheels are shining, glist ning, Humming as they run : The boys are all a-hustling. Want to buy them one. Then they are contented, Happy, it does seem ; Plenty of caresses Just belli nd the screen. 196 INDIANA. " BEX HUR " IX DRAMA. James B. Elmore, the poet of tlie brakes and braes of bonnie Ripley, was in to\vn the other day,, and left a few verses at the Journal office. " 1 offer these as a tribute to Lew. Wallace/ said he, " as I want to encourage cordiality and fellowship among the lit erati of this part of the country. There is no reason why we should not live together as brothers and kin dred spirits, as our tastes and aspirations and work are along the same lines. I do not know the Genera! very well yet; but as soon as I get my corn under cover and poison a few pesky ground hogs that are raising hob out on the farm, I am coming in and establish the entente cordtaJc. I want to give the General all the encouragement I can, and I wrote these pleasant lines out to boost Ben Hur on the stage and to let folks know that there is no meanness or jealousy among literary men such as is found among other professions." The poem goes like this: " Halloo, Benjamin Hur ! Where goest thou ? " Like a divorced wife, to the stage just now." What is to be done, that you are so arrayed ? " " The show has just begun in dress parade. You know that in the arena I fame have won, So on the stage the race I ll run ; Bring on the orchestra and start the play, And behold my steeds so fleet and gay." "BEN HUR " IN UKAMA. 197 Grasp those lines, old hero, sir, And show us the mettle of Benjamin Hur. Melchisedec of old had no more praise, With no beginning of time nor end of davs. THE RACE OF BEN HUR. Behold the chariot wreathed in gold, And the clashing of armor as of old; The gayest steeds are hitched to the pole, And quick to the contest the race to unfold. Now in the arena Benjamin great laurels has won. The wreath of honor to him was flung ; And many were they who tried to compete With the chieftain in this most wonderful feat. 198 INDIANA. Hurrah, humi!) ! They go, and Benjamin is forcing ahead ; Cheer after cheer was echoed with fear as faster and faster they sped The most beautiful scene that one could behold. And the race of Ben Tlur will ever be told. The horses are running with nostrils spread wide say, isn t it a beautiful glide ? There goes the hero, with streamers of red, The length of his chariot in distance ahead. Waneda, his darling, is waving a sign As the hero is passing the three-quarter line ; But Messala poor fellow ! is lying aground. For Bennie has hubbed him and turned him around. He is speeding ahead and cannot look back. Wild echoes are ringing in the wake of his track, And yet he is nudging the steeds all the time Until he has reached the end of the line. No rag-time race will he ever run, For now is the time his laurels are won ; And many bouquets are tossed to the sage, And, kneeling, he is crowned as king of the stage. A SONNET. 199 The race is completed with echoing cheer ; The horses were running, the people did fear ; And the hero is standing in his chariot aright And pulling the reins like the string of a kite. Whoa, brave boys ; whoa, I say ! Where is our rival, I pray ? " He is lying back there in a pool of his gore, Never again to race any more. Hurrah for Ben Hur ! Hurrah for the race ! Hurrah for Lew. Wallace, who started the chase And gave us this play the best of the age The grandest of scene that is now on the stage ! A SONNET. The rose that shines with brightest hue And nods with splendor in the breeze Is the most beautiful thing to please ; But tis known it only drew Its richness from the place it grew, Down in the little sunny dell, Where little brooklets leap and swell While passing onward gently through. So it is with mortal man, Passing onward o er the shoal, Freighted with best riches known, Gathering stores where er he can, Things which make a perfect soul, Building of a perfect home. H INDIANA. ACROSTIC. Many a precious little thought Adores the one for which I sought. .Rambling is my mind at rest : Youthful pleasures are the best. All along the sands of time, Xo one kno\vs the heart sublime : Xo one knows the aches of mine. Everlasting to endure. Leisurely I sought the pure. Memory no\v recalls anew Orange blossoms tried and true; Roses bloom and brighter gro\v. Engraved on my memory so. WHAT THE HOOSIER SEES IX CHICAGO. The Iloosier goes to Chicago To see the sights, and then He treasures up his heart s delights And then comes home again. The first that meets the longing eyes Is the smoke from a thousand flues, And next you see the rolling tide Of the lake and waving sloughs; Statues of our bravest men And monuments of pride. Their sarcophagus laid beneath The imaue steed thev ride; WHAT THK HOOSIKR SEES IN CHICAGO. 201 A legion oi all-colored lights In names and divers shapes Tis like the starry galaxy AVhen everything s in state. There are bridges of quaint design, And aqueducts so grand. And arche> at the ending streets, Where people throng the strand And watch the vessels coining in Of all the different kinds; The little hark which plies the lake Recalls our boyhood times. The lighthouse >t and ing in the deep And twinkling like a star Is to the inland observer new. His mind goes out afar. The buildings, too, above your head Will make you gasp and sigh When you are in the Masonic Temple, Just twenty-two stories high. The Great Northern Hotel is grand indeed, Its organ pipes aloud; Tis like the rolling thunder s echo Along the distant cloud. Then there is a beautiful place With palms and music to please; Its name is just " Blue "Ribbon Saloon," Its frequenters it will deceive. 202 INDIANA. The Board of Trade is an exciting place, You cannot hear at all ; Their voices change from high to low As the margins rise and fall. Some go broke, and some have made, And some still hid away; And some possess a wan, sad face, Expressed by "Alackaday ! " Yon pass along to Lincoln Park, The grandest place of yore; A perfect earthly paradise, With treasures rich in store. There are water ways and acqueducts, And plants from every zone Inside a grand glass crystal palace, And thrive just like at home. The museum, too, is fraught with things And many curious arts A perfect school to observing men, Developing their minds and hearts. Along the boulevard the hansoms rim And carry the " upper crust/" While the common people walk along And view Tecumseh s bust. There stands the novel Ferris Wheel, A band of human freight ; Tis propelled by sprocket wheels At a thirty-minute rate. ACROSTIC. 203 You see all this on any day, And many other scores ; The toper, too, has hilarious times When vice has open doors. You meet the people oil the street ; They talk in divers ways Some with accent on the " r s," And some are on the " a s." It seems to be a Babel new The heavens soon to reach, Where God Almighty did diffuse The different kinds of speech. ACROSTIC. Just a little pleasure Essential to our care ; Rays of brightest sunshine, Rays so rich and rare. You possess a brilliant life ; Knowing it is true, Evenly you scan the right, Especially the new ; Nothing can obstruct the sight Your optic pierces through. 204 INDIANA. ACROSTIC. All is not gold that glitters, Long with brilliancy it may shine ; Beautiful things are mixed with bitter. Even in garb of dress sublime. Rich it is to glow with brightness. Touch of Nature pure and kind : Cunning art but still and sightless, Unobserved in chambered mind. Now and then the light reflected Nearer brings the thinking soul In our minds far retrospeeted Nigh unto the starting goal. Gayer then, no thoughts but leisure : Heavy loads were slight and rare: All our thoughts were fraught with pleasure. Manhood attained, some burdens share. SUGAR-MAKING SONG. When the frost begins to slacken And old Winter has lost his grip, Then the maples quit their cracking And the sap begins to drip. You can hear the pitter-patter In the vessel down below, As the little droplets clatter In a circling tidal flow. SUGAR-MAKING SONG. 205 Tis a sweet and flowing nectar, Like the wine that Jupiter sips, And I love to be inspector As I press it to my lips ; And we fill the tankards flowing Till it sparkles as of old, And the bubbles keep a-glowing With a tint of shining gold. The south wind joins the chorus lu the songs of humming bees, And the blue jay flits before us In the swinging boughs of trees, And the violets nod at leisure As they bloom down by the brink, And the chipmunk skips at pleasure In the secret hidden chink. And as cooler grows the evening, There will icicles grow As the sap is slowly leaving The spiles in gentle flow ; And the downy-budded willows That arc standing by the brook Are reflected in the shallows With a sort of silver look. Then the screech owl shrieks a whistle In a solemn sort of way, And the goldfinch on the thistle Sings a song of parting day ; 206 Then the camp fire shines the brighter As the sparks in myriads rise, And all hearts are gay with laughter As the darkness dims our eyes. Then the hick ry torches sputter As we change them in our hands; Long the road the fire we scatter From the glowing, shining brands. Then the mud Avill splash and spatter, But it matters not, you see ; It just takes this clash and clatter For the youthful cup of glee. Men are wont to sing in praises Of their youth of long ago, When their hearts were full of graces And the sweetest blessings flow. But the toil of passing years Shows upon their furrowed brow, And with sadness blends a tear As they think of then and now. SUGAR MAKIXG. Haul out the kettles and place the metal O er a fiery furnace neath ; Your hands will nettle as the mortar you settle And make their casinsf sheath. SUGAR MAKING. 207 Bring on some stone and build a cone To carry the smoke above ; Then YOU have known a sugar home, Which children dearlv love. SUGAR MAKING. Go tap the trees twill give you ease And place the vessels below ; There are rhythm-tu-rees and honeybees When the sap begins to flow. INDIANA. Rat-tat-tat ! you hear the pat Of the nectar striking below ; There is a pit-a-pat and a sound like that As we gather it to and fro. The children scout and run about, And sip the flowing sweets ; They pick the route and gayly shout When in such pleasant retreats. There are turkey pease and childish glees, And moss from brake and braes ; We cry aloud and join the crowd And sing in childish ways. The goldfinch s flight is our delight Across the heath and wood ; We turn and look in every nook, As children think they should. The squirrel, too, from his burrow Hew, And slyly kind o hid ; We climbed the tree and tried to see What little Bunny did. Our fathers toil and kettles boil, Sweet-scented is the steam ; We children foil a chance so royal And watch the kettles teem. We stir the wax until it cracks, Then pour it out to cool : Its strands relax like breaking flax, When pulling, as a rule. SUGAR MAKING. 209 When the sirup puffs, it is enough, The sugar-making degree : You stir the stuff with ladle rough, Then granulated "twill be. The sugar is made and work is stayed, The refining is surely done. We think it paid for what we made Sweet dreams of childish fun. These youthful days we always praise As being the gem of life ; The water ways and roundelays Xever knew of toil and strife. The violets blue and maidens true All sung with gentle strain : Their hearts all knew sweet anthems, too; Their echoes still remain. The warp and wool was our behoof, The sun the shuttle plied, The vaulted roof was high aloof Where the solar planets glide. The new of the moon is the harvest tune When the sap runs best, they say ; But the wilv coon won t tap too soon, For the wood just dries away. January 1". I ** . 14 210 INDIANA. ACROSTIC. Just a little witty Erases much of gloom ; Sure, it makes a ditty Sweet road to royal bloom. Ease is not a pleasure. Greatness makes a man; Rare as is our leisure, Energy shows a hand ; Esteem is a golden measure Now known in ev ry land. ABIGE AND TURKEY TOM. Come, old Tom, let s have some fun, And play around about ; I will go, then you may come And join me on the route. You shake your head and gobble, too, As big as any man ; I ll catch you by the neck, if you Will only bravely stand. Ker-ert ! ker-ert ! you re talking, too; 1 do not understand. You bugaboo, I ll throw at you ; You ve pecked me on the hand. ABIGE AND TURKEY TOM. 211 Xow sidle off and come again, With dangling red goatee ; You think you ll boss now, if you can, Or cockerel fight with me. ABIGE AND TURKEY TOM. Come on, old boy; I m ready now, And give the starting shout. He sallied in I don t know how And got me on the snout. 212 INDIANA. Xow, you see, it isn t fair To strike below the waist, Or pull my flowing curly hair, Or pick me in the face. Then I thought I d start and run As fast as I could sail ; The gobbler, too, joined in the fun And caught my jacket tail. Then mamma came, with broom in hand, To stop the running fight, And wielded it as women can, And loudly laughed outright. He stood aloof and gobbled loud, As though he d won the fight ; He strutted round like Lucifer proud A showy, gaudy sight. January 16, 1900. 218 MUSIC. Music is the science and art of musical tones or of musical sounds. From the earliest stages of an tiquity there seems to have been some kind of music to blend with the sympathies of appreciative man. You may go among any of the peoples of the world, and they will have some kind of music. The orients, or ancients, used principally the musical harp, such as David played in the presence of the remorseful king for his amusement. We read in the sacred writings of vocal and instrumental music. We have different kinds of music to affect or influence the dif ferent feelings of mankind. The cheerful or lively music animates the soul of the young and brings every nerve and muscle into motion and satisfies their childlike nature. Then we have the solemn or sa cred music, which so affects the soul or inward man to its more tender sympathies. Even the savages have some kind of music to meet their necessities; thev must have it in their councils of war and of peace. And civilized man, in time of a nation s greatest peril, may hesitate to take up his country s cause; but when the fife plays and the drum beats the call to enlist, he can resist no longer, but is ready to face death, if need be, by the inspiration these instru ments have imparted to him. There is no living thing which has a voice but makes some tone of the musical scale. It is a pleas- 211 lire to listen to the beautiful birds as they hold their morning matinees, giving us a very pleasing variety of their sweet, musical voices. Even the cawing crow plays an important part in the harmonious world, but it remains for the mocking bird to fill one s soul with rapture and delight. Music has almost magical effect upon some ani mals as well as man. You can notice that they either show signs of delight or remorse. The faithful dog may set up a pitiful howl on hearing music, which in some way affects his nervous system, and even reptiles will show an uneasiness on hearing certain strains of music. It remains for civilized man to perfect the scale of music. The modern organ and pianoforte reach the top of the scale when the beautiful pieces of mod ern music are rendered, so rich and sublime, so de lightful to the human soul. Xext to pure life, music is calculated to make man happy. The hearing of good music shapes our hearts to love God and man better; and if clouds of gloom or despondency come over us, music will bring back the beautiful rays of sunlight and make us again happy and glad that we live in such a harmonious world as this, with such beautiful strains of music blending in harmony and making the heart of man so light and cheery. It is so like love, the golden cord which binds the heart of man to the throne of God. MUSIC. 215 The world has had some great authors who wrote ami played under very trying circumstances. Bee thoven, whose windows of the soul were closed to the beauties of Nature, led a very useful life. He wrote many excellent pieces of music which will live forever. I n old age, having been driven from home, he was traveling through Germany, and, unknown, stopped at a house and begged lodging. In the evening a young lady played and sung one of his most won derful productions, and he exclaimed : " I wrote that music ! " He made himself known lo them, and died at that home, nursed by their tender hands and hon ored as one of the world s greatest pilgrims and musi cians. Eohert Schumann was educated for a lawyer. Disliking that profession, he learned to play music; but one of his fingers being defective, he learned to write music, and he so fascinated a young lady musi- sian upon whom he called to play his productions that she married hiin, and so combined two of the world s most renowned people. But, like Beethoven. he was very unfortunate, for the great productions which he wrote so wrought upon him that he lost his mind : but his loving partner never deserted him, and well proved woman s fidelity and devotion to one of the greatest of modern musicians. The female voice is the most perfect of all vocal music, and is so wonderful and pleasing to the soul. Andre, the explorer, bad his wife sing in a phono graph, so that he could hear her sweet, musical voice 216 INDIANA. when he was taking his fatal trip to the Arctic re gions. We have often read of the sweet sirens who sung so beautifully as to lure the unwary sailors to the dangers of the lonely isles, from whence they never returned. National airs played in time of war make men face deadly foes when otherwise they might fear their task. After the battle at El Caney, Cuba, the wounded were taken to the battle ships, and the bands began to play " The Star-spangled Banner," and many a dying soldier shouted and waved his hands for the Fn ion flag and his country as he drew his last faint breath. Men, when their hearts are filled with good music, are inspired to do greater and nobler deeds. The poor blind beggar in the street depends upon how he moves the hearts of his fellows by his touching songs for contributions and aid. HOW SUCCESS IS WON. 217 HOW SITTESS IS W(W. Solomon, the wisest of all earthly kings, lias said : " Train up a child in the way l.e should go : and when he is old, he will not depart from it." That was true in his day, and is also true in ours. N~ature has en dowed us with bodies, minds, wills, and judgment capable of any undertaking. The philosopher who was captured by unlearned men said, " Give me time and I will extricate myself." He was depending on the power which the God of Nature had given him. So it must be with us, if we fulfill our mission in this world. A person must lay his plans, and then work according to them with a determined will. Some people, because they achieve great things, are pro claimed geniuses and looked upon as wonderful men ; but it is only because they have made use of the powers \vhich were in them. All men are created equal or nearly so, but some tower above their fellows, like the giant oak of the forest, on account of their great energy and perseverance. The lines of Longfellow well illustrate the fact : " The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight ; Biit they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night." By " success " we mean not only those who have heaps of gold and silver, bonds and stocks, but also 218 INDIANA. those who have accomplished the things which they set out to attain. Some desire to become great schol ars and teachers and to he benefactors to the people and nation; a:.d if they attain to their aim, then they are a wonderful success, to be remembered for ever. Some may desire to study for the ministry and spend their days for the cause of Christianity, like Luther, Calvin, and Huss, spending their time not all in pleasure, but sometimes being obliged to sing in the streets for bread to allay their hunger, and also being hunted by the crowned heads of Europe, that they might perseciite them. But listen to the words of Luther when summoned to Worms for trial because his teaching was different from that of the clergy. His friends warned him riot to go, but he exclaimed : " I would go, if there were as many devils in Worms as the tiles on the roof ! " And he did go. " Thrice is he armed who hath his quarrel just/ These men were a success, for they accomplished what they set out to do, and more, for their works still live. Their books are but phonographs of the dead, speaking to us of their trials, loves, joys, and deeds, which are as wholesome as the air that blows. We have examples of self-made men, and by all odds all are self-made or never made. Even the stu dent at college must study or fail. Many go through college and pass out of sight. They are a disappoint ment to themselves and their friends : they have not the will, push, nor energy to carry themselves on HOW SUCCESS IS WON. !>19 to victory. But look at Abraham Lincoln, how dif ferently he obtained his education at the fireside by the light of a candle after he had labored hard all day long. He saw beauty in Xature; his feelings were in sympathy with what he did, or he never could have accomplished what he did. lie had tender feel ings for others, and so became the emancipator of the slaves of our republic. His name still lives and will live to the end of time. He is an example one of the most wonderful of the self-made men of the world, but there are thousands of others. A few years ago the State of Xew York sent out West a car load of orphan boys to find homes wherever they could and to seek a living, and it so happened that two boys sat in the same seat one a large, fine-featured fellow, and the other a small, undersized lad and when they arrived at their destination, the farmers came in to pick out boys whom they thought most suitable for work. It so happened that the little fellow was left until the last, on account of his size; it seemed as though no one wanted him; but a sturdy Irishman came along and took pity on him and gave him an apple, telling him that, if no one wanted him, he might go home with him ; and so he did ; and to day those two boys who sat in the same seat and were like the stone which the builders rejected are gov ernors in two of our \Yestern States. All of this was achieved by courage, pluck, and energy. The fortune of a father or mother is no royal road to sue- 220 INDIANA. cess, for it may be wafted away at a single stroke of the pen; but courage like Leonidas had at the pass of Thermopylae, with his little army, may move the world. Energy is the only true road to success, but energy out of use is dead. Xapoleon Bonaparte gave the nations of Europe a great deal of trouble on ac count of his indomitable will and courage. Nations, too, are like individuals according to their energy and push. It is easy to see the status of the United States, if we but look at the Spanish-Ameri can War and our valiant soldiers knocking ai: the walls of China, which were like a parapet of earth to them. Some desire great wealth as a road to fame. It is not always the best kind of riches one can possess, but it is very necessary in civilized nations to have money to carry on the business of the nation ; and the more of it they have, the more prosperous it will be. Money promotes trade and civilization ; heathen lands have no use for it. Some trades and occupa tions could not be carried on without it. Still, we have individuals who make a wrong use of it ; but it cannot be said that they were not a financial success. They cannot be rated with such men as Johns Hop kins, Avho endowed Johns Hopkins University, and Simon Yandez, who gave $50,000 to build a library at Crawfordsville, Ind. We have had great men like S. F. B. Morse, who in vented telegraphy; but he lacked the means to carry HOW SUCCESS IS WON. 221 it into effect, and had to ask the government to aid him, thereby receiving $30,000 to bring his invention before the people. Elias Howe was another who strove to gain achievement in poverty and distress; but success came at last, as it will to the obedient, diligent, and persevering. Goodyear, Fulton, and Whitney were the laughingstock for the common herd, being branded as fools by them ; bnt success crowned their efforts, and then they were the pride of the world, while the scoffers have passed from earth unknown ; no lasting monument marks their departure in the minds of men. Tf one desires to succeed in a pecuniary sense, he will have to stop all unnecessary spending of money, and he can soon own a good home of his own ; for just think when you spend a nickel for a cigar, it would buy a square yard of land worth fifty dollars per acre, and the pur chase of a bottle of pop would buy another, and a glass of wine or ale would buy two square yards, and so by avoiding such expenditures for a few years you can be in good circumstances. Jay Gould was once a poor bo} r , and he spent his first fifty cents for a book to carry to school, and then we find him sitting in the street hungry for some thing to eat ; but these were trials which taught him the value of money. Then we soon find him in a tan nery, a bank, and then in one of the greatest stock exchanges of the world, having ascended from the bottom of the ladder to the top by his own effort. 222 INDIANA. One must always be on the alert and watchful to take in the situation when it offers, or all is lost. A good epitaph for some who are always disappointed in their efforts would be : "A little too slow." Men are a little like race horses, and the most observant, dili gent, and frugal wins the race. Let us live as noble men. Working for a crown above ; Let us live as best we can. Full of virtue, peace, and love. Strive to gain a rich reward. And let the vain world know We are children of the Lord, Born in worlds helow. Be up and doing with a will. With a heart both pure and great ; Climb the roughest rugged hill, Then success will be your fate. Never stop as laggards do. Looking sad, disconsolate; To yourself be bold and true, You will be among the great. Monuments will speak your fame On the bold, emblazoned page ; Children long will lisp your name In a future coming age. HOW SUCCESS IS WON. 223 Never falter at the top, Let your course go on and on ; Running rivers ne er can stop, Lest their force is lost and gone. Nature s purest waters glide O er their sinning pebbly shore: Blooming flowers line each side, Lending sweetness as of vore. Write your name so all may know, Passing onward as they may, That true worth is not a show, But a crown that shines by day. ENVOY. May we always love sweet poetrv, friend, As it pleases you and me; May we meet some other time again This side of eternity. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-10Cm-9, 52(A3105)444 PS Elmore ~ 3^09 Love among the El|85 1