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 
 
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