University of California Berkeley Gift of BARBARA DAVIS MCKNIGHT W. B. TYLER, S. F. POEMS JACOB P-RICE, SAN LEANDEO, CAL. 1889. / I encountered much difficulty in finding a sufficient excuse for printing this little volume of alleged poems. The fact that the edition is limited to a few dozen copies, in tended to be given to personal friends only, will, it is hoped, be regarded as an extenuating circumstance that will in some degree modify the justifiable animosity of those upon whom a copy may be inflicted. I will add in further mitigation of the offence that most of the poems herein were written years ago (when I was younger) and were published in various journals accompanied, generally, by commendatory notices written by the editors. Many of them were widely copied. Several elocutionists, also, thought some of them worthy of presentation to th eir audiences. Notwithstanding these things I did not go into the poetry business, but kept working steadily on at a respectable occupa tion, with the happy result of entirely recovering from the mental disorder that manifested itself in the production of this volume. THE AUTHOR, INDEX. The Locomotive , 5 The End , , 6-7 The Jailor's Tale 8-9 How Could She 10-11 An Incident of Frontier Life 12-13-14 Photography 15 Song of Steam 16-17 Judge Lynch 18-19-20-21 Kemarks on Spring 22 The Old Horse's Protest 23-24 The Jilted Maiden 25 Dwight's Little Joke 26-27 Doomed , . 28-29 Save the Women 30-31 Rain in California 32 The Virtuous Barkeeper t 33 Our Ninety-Ninth Anniversary 34-35-36 Local Option Jingles 37 Fire 38-39 Changed Her Mind 40 Sabbath in the Country 41 To the Old Guard 42-43 To Stephen and Emily 44 Soarings 45 UABK! a wild advancing shriek upon the midnight air, To which the hills reply again with echoes reaching far; A mighty roar that awes our souls and fills our hearts with dread, As when the awful earthquake rushes by with giant tread. The monster comes; lo, demon-like a single eye fierce gleams Within its iron forehead set, from which the strong light streams Into the cow'ring darkness, that seems to shrink away, As if in dread of its wild glare, like night before the day. Deep in its savage jaws there glows a fierce devouring fire That yields a strength to those grim arms that naught can ever tire, While from its belching crest there rolls a cloud of smoke and flame That backward streams along the path from whence the dragon came. On, on with wild and breathless speed along the trembling ground With flashing wheels and rapid breath into the night profound It plunges, and with lessened roar is lost amid the gloom Of distant hills; the night once more is silent as the tomb. END, . p AST twelve o'clock? Oh, no, barkeep Can't be that I've lain here asleep On this settee since noon to-day. Dont! I'll get up. Drunk, did you say? Tis not the first time. I say, Joe Give me a drop before I go. Let's see my coin? O, Joe just think What I have given you for drink Wealth strength children, wife, All all that man holds dear in life; And must I beg of you in vain One drop to ease my throbbing brain? Don't push me that way; don't now, Joe, Hands off I say! Before I go I must have rum. For God's sake man, Spare me this torture if you can; This horrid thirst, this raging hell Within, that rum alone can quell. There, see, I've fallen! (oh, so low) You didn't strike me, did you, Joe? You did! Well, then you were in fun, Leave, or I'll get another one? Another blow? Joe! Joe! beware What what is that just over there! Great God Almighty ! Let me go ! Help! keep him off! O save me, Joe! Oh, spare he's gone why Joe, I swear 'Tis you! there's snakes coiled in your hair And in your bosom there is one. They're in mine too! ! Great God! I'm gone!' ***** Dead on the sidewalk! Lo, the end Of him who was a genial friend, A husband fond, a father kind, A man of culture, learned, refined; A gentleman truehearted, brave. Alas! alas! a drunkard's grave. W/ELL, 'tis rather a gloomy place, I reckon you're 'bout right; Damp stone walls and iron doors and none too much of light Don't make it very cheerful like, but then a jail, you know, Must be a jail, and not a place where men from choice will go. Le's see, you asked for Chamberlin, a friend of yours may be ? j es S o he didn't mean no harm sort of a drunken spree. In number five? A murderer the worst man we've had here Since I've been turnkey killed his wife slashed her from ear to ear. Makes you shudder? Well, 'twas awful; but, sir, we have got All kinds of men, from the cut-throat down to the common sot Within these walls. That sad eyed chap? An Austrian I believe; His crime? Ah well he saw, 'tis said, Bill Hogan kill McCleave. You recollect the scrape, I guess, 'twas some six months ago; It happened down by Green's Exchange; seems Bill struck Me. a blow Upon the head with a slung-shot that laid him cold 's a wedge. Don't know just what the trouble was believe 'twas some old grudge. Well, this chap had the cussed luck to see the whole affray, And so they've held him all this time. I shan't forget the day They brought him here, he looked so strange, so frightened like and wild, And kept a talkin all the time about his wife and child. He'd just come off the ship, it seems been here a day or two, And twenty words, or so, was all the English that he knew, Which made it bad for him; you see he couldn't understand Why he was kept in prison in this " free and equal" land. Wust of it was though when they came I mean his boy and wife; Lord! how they took on kissed and cried you never in your life Saw such a scene. And, sir, I swear, if you'd been made of stone, You would have choked up when you saw them two go forth alone. In here? Not much. Lord bless your soul, he didn't lay in jail; Waived an examination and managed to give straw bail, Then slid for South Ameriky. Of course they know he's gone As a plain fact; can't legally, until his case comes on. You've got me now that's hard to tell I'm damned sir if I know Just when the poor cuss will get out, them things drag on so slow. They 'lowed to try Bill the last term, you should have seen 'em then; Thought they'd go crazy when they found he'd soon be out again. She came at sunrise on the day they thought they'd call Bill's case, And brought her little boy and babe; and such a happy face As hers, I never saw before. I didn't? Well, that's queer! A gal, born in the hospital soon after he came here. All day they waited cheerfully, their hopes were bright and firm; At last the word came cuss such word! " Put over for the term" I I God, sir! I never saw despair so cold and white As that in that poor creature's face as she passed out that night. 10 H0W 60ULD 7JHEY were in the quiet parlor, ^In the parlor alone, Seated on a silken sofa, And his arm was 'round her thrown, Softly o'er them fell the rays Of the darkened chandelier, Making that delicious gloom Which to lovers is so dear. He wore a lovely brown mustache, His hand, so soft and white, Was burdened with a gleaming ring, That sparkled in the light. His dress was faultless; he, in fact, Looked fine as a new fiddle. But oh, his hair! alas! alas! 'Twas parted in the middle. And she looked oh, so wondrous fair, So yielding, yet so coy, As she reclined half in his arms, That he was filled with joy. He boldly clasped her willing hand And gently squeezed her waist, Then sighed as if he thought he'd got Of heaven a foretaste. And as he pressed her rosy palm His soul was steeped in bliss; " Wath anything," he panted, " e'er Tho thoft tho thoft ath thith ?" And then she breathed a gentle sigh And said " had I the will I think that I could place your hand On something softer still." 11 His breath came quick, his glances roved From cheek to swelling bust, " Take, oh, take my hand " he said; " I plathe it in your trutht; " Thweet girl, do with it what you will." Then not a word she said But took the little paw and laid It gently on -Ms head. 12 AN INCIDENT ep RRSNTIER ^O Willow Springs ? about ten miles you can't get there to-night, The trail is hardly plainenough to follow by daylight; You had better stop with us we'd be pleased to have you stay, For travelers from the settlement don't often pass this way. The boy will take your horse, sir James, put him in the shed By the side of your brown pony, and see that he's well fed; If you'll please walk into the house, my wife will try, I'm sure, To provide you with some supper, if our fare you can endure. Dear little wife, this gentleman will stay with us to-night Take a seat, sir, by the fire for I thought it hardly right To let him pass, the trail 's so blind come here my little pet And see your papa four, last May; she hardly speaks plain yet. Yes, sir, one more; a son, aged twelve he led your horse away Who thinks his little sister is not made of common clay; Who treats his gentle mother as courtier treats a queen; Who obeys his father's lightest wish such is the boy you've seen. Since we came here ? Five years last June how swift time flies away, When health, and love, and happiness abide with us each day. Yet once, o'er us, a cloud of woe, spread its black wings in wrath, Our hearts, our joy, our lives all seemed directly in its path. There was a vicious redskin they called him Whisky Bill- Who roamed about these prairies; at times he used to fill His carcass with vile whiskey, then to our cabin come, And frighten wife and little ones, if I was not at home. One hazy day, last autumn, while at work amid the grain, I heard a startling yell! Whiskey Bill had come again, And with fierce, menacing gestures bade my frightened little wife, Give him food and drink, "much plenty", or he would take her life. 13 My face grew white with passion, and ere he was aware, I had cleared the fence that hid me, and in the matted hair Of the painted, maddened wretch, I made my left hand fast; My right clutched deep his tawny throat he nearly breathed his last. But a shudder thrilled my breast, when, as he lay on the ground, He turned those black, malignant eyes on me with hate profound; And a devilish glare of murder shone in his bloodshot gaze, As he rode away in silence it haunted me for days. A week or more had passed away our hearts had lighter grown We hoped the swarthy fiend had fled. Ah! had we then but known That scarce a hundred yards away, concealed in a ravine, He watched to strike the stealthy blow, our anguish had not been. Twas an Indian summer morn; the red and smoky sun Shed a warm, delicious glow, while we watched our little one Straying, barefoot from the door with her bonnet in her hand, Her yellow hair swayed by the breeze with which her cheek was fanned Our boy had gone before the sun had risen o'er the hill That morn, to seek the antelopes, and on them try his skill For he had shown, though but a lad, a nerve as firm as steel, And oft his trusty rifle's spoil enriched our evening meal. My wife gazed long, with loving eyes, upon the straying child, And bade her go not far away; she turned and sweetly smiled, Though with an arch and saucy look, which said "I won't obey; You'll have to catch me or I shall not mind a word you say." Like some black bird of prey that with fierce and sudden wing, Swoops down upon a shrinking dove a hideous painted thing Swept down and seized our treasure; seized her floating, yellow hair; Yelled wildly to his mustang; was gone we knew not where. "God have mercy!" cried my wife I stopped to hear no more But sped madly, madly forward as man ne'er sped before, And as I ran I cursed and screamed in hopeless, wild despair, At my toilsome, helpless, failing speed at last I tried a prayer. 14 What do I see? The horseman stops! What can his movements mean ? Why tries he thus to climb the bank that hems in the ravine ? Ah! God be praised! my noble boy with his poised rifle stands Firm as a rock, upon the trail, and shouts forth his commands. "Let my little sister go!' the savage feigned to yield A moment more and he had turned and held her as a shield, And with a loud, derisive shout he sought to scale the bank In vain; that deadly rifle rang; his horse beneath him sank. With murder gleaming from his eyes he leaped toward my son, While I, ~iflew toward the spot; each of us seized the gun; A second paused with one fierce wrench I tore it from his hands, Swung it aloft and Whisky Bill lay senseless on the sands. Against my bursting heart my girl, with trembling arms I pressed, And wept just like a little child. I need not tell the rest. What's that you say ? You'd like to know the fate of Whisky Bill ? I said I stretched him on the sands I guess he lies there still. 15 PH@T0GRAPHY. spake the words: " Let there be light! " The glorious flood poured into space, And drove the black chaotic night Swift from our planet's smiling face. Vast continents in living green Were straightway dressed; the convex sea In glorious blue lay calm between Fit emblem of His Majesty. Ten thousand years a sea of light Had bathed the world, e'er it was known That fleeting shadows by its might, Might be forever made our own. 16 0F gLANG! cling! clang! cling! Forges glow and anvils ring; Pond'rous wheels with thund'rous sound And fearful speed swing madly round, And crash and roar and hiss and scream Swell my wild song the song of steam. My fierce hot breath puts forth its strength In grimy, iron lungs; at length The clanking engine moves with life; Long shafts respond. The busy strife Shakes the vast factory; wall and beam Throb with my might, the might of steam. My arm impels the roaring blast Into the glowing furnace; fast The molten iron, sparkling white With heat, leaps forth like liquid light Into the smoking sand; fit birth For forms of beauty, strength and worth. How swift yon crowded steamer glides Mid thronging ships. Her quivering sides Spurn the dark wave. In seeming wrath She tramples white a snowy path Of undulating foam; 'tis steam Thrills her with life from keel to beam. Long trains by my strong arm are hurled From State to State across the world With speed of light. See how they glide Along the mountains' dizzy side And through green valleys; praries vast Scarce greet the gaze ere they are past. 17 And yet my crowning work remains; For, swifter far than whirling trains, The flying ship shall cleave the storm. Already its prophetic form Has soared aloft; the day draws nigh When man's highway shall be the sky. Behold, then, puny man, thy slave! I work thy will; yet must I have An iron armor staunch and strong And without blemish, lest my song Shall change to crashing thunder, when I seek my freedom once again. 18 JUDGE uQH, he's the man, without a doubt, But do the thing up square; Let's try him first have witnesses And everything air fair. I've always found it the best way Looks reg'lar like and straight; Judge an' jury that's the style J always advocate." "No, gentlemen I'd rather not; Call on some older man To act as Judge. Well, well, all right! I'll do the best I can, Pick out your jury the right kind When that is done, I think Next thing in order is all hands Come up, with me, an' drink." Judge Lynch, himself! I marked him well: I marked his jury, too; I marked the drunken, devlish look That said "We'll put him through;" I marked the dull and sunken eye The heavy, brutal jaw The face in which a demon lay That laughed at right or law, 19 "Where's Buckskin Bill? Ah, very well; Please tell these gentlemen About this case." "Yeh see, I knowed The hoss belonged to Ben, So, when this feller brought him yer And tried to take us in By sayin' he found him up the trail, Says I, 'Boys, that's too thin/ "So, I jest covered him and says Now, don't yeh move a hand! At first he looked surprised, as if He didn't understand Just what I meant, and then he turned As white as any sheet Bob tied his hands they tell us, Judge, We did the job up neat. "Then Bob an' me, an' Monte Jim; An' two three other men Left camp, to see if we could find What had become of Ben; I found that is we found him, Judge, Behind an ole log, dead An' robbed. That's all I know. His wound ? A bullet through the head. "No, I can't say, with truth, we found Upon him, anything That we were sartain Ben had owned, Except this curious ring. I found that in his pocket, yet He tried to face me down Said I didn't find it there, But took it from my own," 20 It was enough! Nor quiv'ring lip, Nor plain, unvarying tale, Nor hot and fierce denial, Nor deep oath could aught avail. E'en on that throng a silence fell When, with rum laden breath And thickened tongue, Judge Lynch pronounced The dreadful sentence Death! Beneath a spreading live-oak tree The fettered victim stands: The tight drawn cords cut deep his wrists, Purpling his helpless hands; While pallid face and staring eye, And deeply heaving chest, From which the breath comes hot and quick, His agony attest. With savage haste, his tawny beard They raise, and draw the rope Close close about his swelling throat, But still he clings to hope, And with the brutal, drunken throng, He pleads for brief delay For one short month they laugh a week 'Tis useless. Not a day! Now wild despair sweeps o'er his soul; His passion bursts all bounds, And blazing wrath burns in his eyes; "Ye fiendish, hell-born hounds! Why will ye murder me like this! Why do this hellish deed ? Oh, God! hast thou forsaken me In this, my hour of need ?" 21 * "Oh, men! if ye be men I beg One short hour more of life, To write to to my little boy And to and to my wife. Not yet! Oh, God! a moment more To utter one short prayer " A rush ! a yell ! the hapless wretch Swings struggling in the air. That's all. Oh, stop! one incident I had forgotten quite; An officer arrested, in That very camp, that night The real murd'rer. Strange, you say? Yes, sir but, stranger still (I fear you'll not believe me ) 'Twas the witness, Buckskin Bill. 2.) 6 REMARKS 0N SPRING. 'Tis depressing to observe that this season doesn't bring Forth the usual quantity of poetry on spring. Thus far but forty poets have tuned their lyres to sing Of bees and flowers and buttercups and birds upon the wing. I said but forty; well, perhaps it will not do to cling Too firmly to that statement I don't read everything You know, and so there miglit be more who have essayed to sling Poetic ink upon this theme. I think Pll try, by jing- O! Here I go, then clear the track and let me have full swing! ril write a poem, too, and every line shall end with ing. The Spring ahem ! The Spring has come the soft and gentle Spring, (Original and good so far) the groves with music ring, (That's good again) the honey bee with sharp and sudden ping Shoots by the ear (see that new word I've added to the Eng- Glish tongue?) and now in leafy groves the feathered warblers sing, (Originality like that is simply a-ma-sir?^) And blooming flowers their odors sweet upon the breezes fling. The country girls, from sunshine bright, protected by their ging- Ham bonnets, wander o'er the fields, nor heed the smart and sting Of nettles on their bare, brown feet; and, happy as a king The farmer boy sings loud and clear, "Te rol de dol dol ding." That lets me out, because, you see, I find I cannot wring From my tired brain another rhyme. End of my "pome" on Spring. 23 H0RSE'S PR0TEST. pound-master, stop ! There's some mistake, I'm not the horse that you're to take; What if I am out in this lane ? My master '11 take me in again And shelter me and feed me too, Just as he always used to do. A weary week have I stayed here, In this bare lane, because 'tis near My own old pasture; pinched with cold, Hunger and thirst, lame, blind and old, I've kept my post, and hoped, though late To get once more inside the gate. I'm sure my master must be ill, He could not, of his own free will, Permit me thus to starve and die Here on the common. No sir, I Will not believe he bade you come And take me from my own good home. He'll care for me I have no fears I've toiled for him for twenty years; I've served him faithfully and true, And done all that a horse could do; I've toiled for him, his child, his wife, And once, at least, I saved his life. 'Twas years ago yon river's flood, Kose wild and high; my master stood Just by the bridge and watched the tide Swell, till it dashed against the side Of the huge beams. As one spell-bound He gazed nor heard the dreadful sound 24 Of waters wild, tearing the ridge Of earth, that reached out to the bridge. Twasgone! Between him and the shore, The waters, with appalling roar, Rushed fierce and deep. Ah! can none save My master from a wat'ry grave? He calls to me! " Come Tom, come here! Come here good Tom " without a fear I plunged into the waters black Swam to the bridge; upon my back I brought him safely to the shore, Well pleased to have him there once more. ***** Alas! poor, trusting, helpless slave, Your faith is vain; there's naught can save Your poor, worn frame, now that 'tis old And cannot earn its master gold; Accept your doom as best you can; Learn what is gratitude in man. 25 JILTED FRAIDEN. sits all day, and dreams and sighs; Her nose is red and so are her eyes; She won't dress up nor comb her hair, And how she looks she doesn't care. She snaps and snarls at every one, And says, "Iwishyouwouldletmealone." " Sasses," her father and scolds her ma, And sets at defiance all household law. She smiles at none, but frowns on all; Keeps out of the parlor when visitors call, Takes no interest in ribbon or curl, And acts just like a jilted girl. BWIGHT'S bITTLE 3t a soiree, the other night, I met a jolly friend named Dwight, Just launched on matrimony's sea, And full of pranks as he could be. " Look here," said he, " d'ye want some fun ? Of course you do you're just the one; " And his eyes twinkled as he spoke, And thus explained his little joke. " My plan is this," said he; " When all Are leaving, they'll crowd through this hall Mixed up together; then the light Well have turned down as dark as night. " Then, to complete our little game, Kiss quick your wife I'll do the same." "Indeed!" said I. "I mean," said he, " That I'll kiss my wife; don't you see ?' " Of course, they'll both be in a rage But won't suspect us. I'll engage " Said he, " to tell you needn't doubt it All that my wife may say about it. " You do the same; and when we meet Again, it will be quite a treat For each of us." I said " All right; " But didn't see it in just that light. For I had seen more years than he The honeymoon had passed with me A long time since. I didn't know Exactly what my wife would do. The whole came off as he had planned; The lights went out when all were jammed Together in the narrow hall, But /kissed my wife not at all. We met next day. Said I, " Well, Dwight, What of your little game last night; Did you kiss your wife as you said you'd do ? " " Oh, yes," said he, " and hugged her, too." "Good! Good!" sai'd I; since then, no doubt, You've laughed until you're quite laughed out At her indignant tears. But say What makes your face so long, to-day?" " Up late, last night ?" "Oh, yes, 1 see- But, Mrs. Dwight?" "Ah yes," said he; " Exactly well she acts absurd. In fact she didn't say a word !" B00MED. OOOD morning, jailor; tliank you, sir, I do not care to eat, But will drink the cup of coffee Won't you find yourself a seat ? I want to say a word to you Before before I go, And thank you for your kindness More valued than you know. What means the sound of hammers, That I've heard since break of day ? What are they building ? oh, my God! You turn your head away; I understand, you need not speak, The ''building" is for me ! How did I rest ? My sleep, last night, Was sweet as sleep could be And filled with dreams. I dreamed of home A happy, peaceful dream, Unmixed with present horrors ; An angel, it would seem, In pity watched my last repose ; I woke and, like a knife, Came quick and keen the piercing thought 'Tis my last day of life ! It cannot be ! 'tis still a dream ! Must I, some minutes hence See this bright world in blackness fade ? Blackness eternal, dense ? And will the kindly sun still send, To this lone cell his ray, And cheer some other hapless wretch, When I am gone away ? 29 And when I'm laid deep in the earth, Then, will a flood of light Pour softly down from the old moon As it poured down last night ? And will the shrieking railway trains That marked the hours for me, Still roar and rumble as before, When I, no more shall be ? And you my only friend will you Pursue your daily round To-morrow as to-day, and I And I deep in the ground ? I know I do not jear to die ; I never yet knew fear ; But, oh! life seems so wondrous sweet As death is drawing near. My God! My God! am / the man That yon throng conies to see This sweet, glad morn ? I must be mad ! It cannot ! cannot be ! ***** Good-bye, kind friend bolt hard the door, Let no man come anigh ; Leave me alone alone with God It is my time to die ! 30 W0MEN. Written previous to a "Local Option" election, 'Tis loudly said on every side (Though by a few, feebly denied) That if we close each whisky mill The men will keep on drinking still; Not only that they'll drink, but more And of frier than they did before; That they, like children who still cry Loudest for that which you deny, Will thirst for what they cannot get With ease, and drink still deeper yet. The argument is this, I think: With two saloons they take one drink, With only one they nip it twice, With none at all they sip it thrice, And if each house was a saloon, All drinking would be ended soon. But, ah! worse still! on every hand 'Tis said, the women of our land, Rich, cultured ladies whisper now Before the shrine of Bacchus bow. If this be true, is it because They are forbid by social laws From going to some dram-shop nigh Instead of tippling on the sly ? If thus the rule affects the men Why may it not the women, then ? What shall be done? alas! alas! That things have come to such a pass ! They must be saved, at any cost! For, if they fall the race is lost; Who'll tell us how to save them, then, 31 And make them temperate like the men ? Hah! hold your breath! List to ray plan, We'll save them yet as we save man. Bum-mills for wives! that's the idea ! Also for maidens; don't you see How nice 'twill work ? They boldly go And take a nip like Dick or Joe They laugh and chat between the sips Lay down their money wipe their lips Then walk as boldly out again, Saved from temptation like the men. I hope should he approve this plan That some consistent " License " man Will urge his daughter or his wife To try the scheme to give her life To this reform (?) this glorious boon To woman the female saloon. Of course, 'twere folly to expect She'd bring the massive intellect To bear, that her superior, man Puts to this work; yet still she can But do her best the field is wide, There's room for her on every side For, if to save, of men a score, Takes one saloon, as many more Will be required for women, when They, too, are saved just like the men. 32 I^AIN IN gALIF0RNIA. Portentous and gloomy the chilly east wind Creeps over the land, leaving darkness behind And omens of storm. In the threatening air The frowning rain god doth his presence declare. The weird notes of wild geese from out the dark sky, Fall clanging to earth as they southwardly fly; And the fact'ry's black smoke from its tall chimney's crest Rolls heavily downward and drifts to the west. Enroofed are the valleys with cold, leaden gray, Upheld by brown mountains whose heads thrust their way Up through the dark folds. Over forest and plain Broods a deep, solemn hush, boding rain, blessed rain. Now, onHhe wind that more stormily blows Slant down the thick drops. From Sierra's deep snows And bold, rocky battlements down to the sea, The storm king holds revel, wild, joyous and free. Daylight dies out; a deep sullen roar Fills the night as when waves beat a lone, rocky shore. Day succeeds day, moons wax and wane, Yet ever drifts down the monotonous rain. The rill is a torrent the plain is a lake, The river, a sea, whose yellow waves break Over fields, over fences, o'er bridges, and trees, Relentlessly bearing them down to the seas. Yet thankful we greet thee, O, sweet, silv'ry rain, For thy floods shall recede, and o'er the wide plain In all their green glory tall harvests shall stand, And plenty shall smile on our thrice favored land, 33 YiRTueus BARKEEPER. Ah ! Mr. Jones, how do you do ! nice, cool, breezy day; Glad to see you ! Just arrived ? Straight whisky did you say V There you are sir, ain't that prime ? I call it the clear quill Pure corn juice just the best a white man can distill. That's the kind of liquor, sir, that every man should keep; They ought to make a law, a law , sir, that would sweep These dirty rot-gut holes away, with all their pizen stuff; They make the drunkards, Mr. Jones; you know that well enough. Pure liquor hurts no man, I say, (and that's the kind I buy) If used as by yourself with sense; and, sir, I always try To keep a man from drinking, when I see he doesn't know Just when he's full or cannot tell how far he ought to go. You know Dick Snell ? of course you do; well, Dick, this afternoon Was pretty full, and, with a friend, he came to my saloon And called for drinks laid down his coin says I, Dick Snell, it's clear You've had enough, so not a drop of whisky you'll get here. Well, he was mad, you bet your life ! told me I put on airs Said he had spent more dollars here than both of us had hairs And that was true; but then you see 'twas when he owned a farm And dropped in four or five times a day, which did the man no harm. But ever since old Copp foreclosed that mortgage on his place He's drank too much for any man he shows it in his face And since his wife died he's worse yet, he's drunk near half his time; And yet there's men will give him drink long as he has a dime. But Dick's about played out I guess; that dive across the way, Will use a man up in three months, and he's there every day, And so he's gone ! What did he say ? Take warning by Dick Snell V That Copp had got a mortgage placed upon his farm as well ? 34 0UR RlNQTY-RlNTH 0NNIVERSARY. HEAD AT SAN LORENZO GROVE, JULY 4TH, 1875. When from the past night's starry gloom, Our glad land turned toward the sun, From green New England's eastern cliffs Burst clang of bell and boom of gun; And westward, with the speed of light, A thousand measured miles an hour, Pursuing close the fleeing night, The sound-wave sweeps with swelling power. It climbs New Hampshire's granite hills And falls on cities by the sea, Whose steeples reel with music sweet, Proclaiming Freedom's Jubilee. In harbors calm, grim ships of war Burst into thund'rous smoke and flame, And bright flags flash from masts and spars, And wild hurrahs, in glad acclaim, Yet swell the ever swelling tone Until the diapason deep, Still rolling westward with the sun Across the continent doth sweep; And in reverberations grand, Upon this distant western shore, Dies in sweet echoes; lost amid Pacific's ceaseless solemn roar. Why throbs the air with music sweet? Why wave a million flags on high '? Why shakes the earth with cannon's roar ? Why clang sweet bells against the sky ? Whence this deep, universal joy That thrills the land from sea to sea ? Lo ! on this glorious day was born The mighty empire of the free. Scarce an hundred years of life, yet our nation stands to-day A peer among the mighty o'er a Continent its sway; A cluster of young empires, wrapped within the silken fold Of a single starry banner a grand, united whole ! A government for men, built to reach the shores of time; A single, mighty nation, where mankind from every clime May find a peaceful haven; where, before the law, a man Is but a man, regardless of religion, race or clan. 'Tis not a league of jarring States, by parchment held alone, Nor by the sword no conqueror no monarch on his throne Holds us with iron grasp, but the Freemen of the land Have sworn, deep in their inmost hearts, this government shall stand. God bless thee, noble nation, born of war, amid the fears And hopes of our forefathers, thou hast lived an hundred years ! And of strife art born again, but, behold ! the tempest's shock Hath but settled thy foundations more securely on the rock ! The rock of human Liberty of justice to all men 'Neath whose shadow the down-trodden shall smile with hope again; A rock whose broad foundations were laid deep in the earth Coeval with the period when Liberty had birth. Then come to us from distant lands beyond the convex sea; Let all the earth aid us to build this kingdom of the free; Right welcome all who truly say we care not whence they come " I join my destiny with thine, my own adopted home." / And we will build a nation, that, despite the scoffs and jeers Of hereditary rulers, shall live a thousand years; Whose pillars shall be knowledge, where education's light Shall banish superstition as the sun dispels the night. Let, then, this truth sink deeply that nation must be free Whose sons are free from ignorance none other so can be; And we hold as freedom's foe, the fanatic, knave or fool Who dares to raise a hand against our hope the common school. For knowledge, like the sunshine of a brilliant summer day; Shall expose the snares and pitfalls that beset the nation's way To a permanence and grandeur such as earth has never known A grandeur born of Truth and Eight of Truth and Eight alone. Our ship of State has shunned the rocks, her voyage is begun; Spread now her snowy canvas and fire her parting gun, Fling out her starry ensign to the music-laden breeze And pray that God may keep her course o'er sparkling, sunlit seas. 37 0PTI0N JINGLES, Written just previous to a, very warm election. Local Option Its adoption Or rejection By election On the 'leventh of July, Is the question Our digestion And our drinking Too, I'm thinking Is much agitated by. Shall we try it Or deny it ? If we do it, We shall rue it. That is what some people say, But I reckon That a check on Whiskey selling, Will be telling In our favor. So, that day, If we're lucky, True and plucky We propose to Beat the "noes " to smithereens. 38 FIRE. Wrapped in the cool, calm, solemn night, the city slept; The stars, deep in the midnight sky, their vigils kept; Long, twinkling rows of gaslights gleamed adown each street, Deserted now, though thronged but late with hurrying feet. The still, black waters of the bay, with gliding swell, Searched 'neath the piers; in starlight dim ships rose and fell. The air moved not; nor sea nor shore gave forth a sound: Sleep held her leaden sway; o'er all was peace profound. Hark ! from yon belfry's spectral height A thrilling tone awakes the night: A solemn, heavy, clanging peal That makes the lofty steeple reel : 'Tis silent now ! Yet list ! Once more It comes, e'en deeper than before, And wilder, louder, faster, higher, Awake ! 'tis screaming, fire ! fire ! Now, from each window, blanched with fright White faces peer into the night; And now the streets are thronged again With hot, excited rushing men; And now, with shout and 'larming cry, The smoking engine thunders by. Lo ! from yon pile in volumes vast Tinged with a lurid red, rolls fast A huge, black cloud, that climbs the sky, In grand, slow, sullen majesty. 39 Behold ! the flames assert their sway, Transforming darkness into day. Look now ! with deep, appalling roar They wildly leap from floor to floor, Enwrapping, in their fierce, white gleam Pilaster, column, roof and beam, Till the vast structure reels and glows, Beneath the fiery dragon's blows, Then falls and sinks, a smouldering pile, And ruin laughs in glee the while. The city, 'neath the solemn night, is wrapped in sleep. The stars, deep in the midnight vault their vigils keep; The air moves not; nor sea nor shore gives forth a sound; Sleep holds her leaden sway; o'er all is peace profound. 40 8HANGED HER PRlND. EXTRACTS FROM THE CORRESPONDENCE OF A YOUNG LADY. DEAR BELLE : I went to churcli last night And saw your friend, why he's a. fright ; At least / think so ; what is there pray About his looks that made you say That I'd admire him. Goodness me ! He's homely, Belle, as he can be, Monstrous nose, retreating forehead And goggle eyes; I think he's horrid. * * * I've seen that Mr. Knox again Your friend, I mean, that homely man Of whom I wrote and I declare I must admit he has an air About him, that one must admire. But, Belle, I think I soon shall tire Of his rude manners; why the man Stared till I had to use my fan. * * * I went last night to the soiree, And who, think you, chanced there to be? Why, Charley Knox ! we stayed till four I danced with him six times or more, And he has asked me don't you tell To go with him next time; now, Belle, I'm not in love. You'll laugh I know But still I say he's not my beau. * * * O, Belle ! O, Belle ! what do you think Has happened. I can't sleep a wink Until I ve told my dearest friend; O, Belle ! my girlhood's at an end. That Charley Knox ! O, dear, O, my, I don't know whether to laugh or cry I never yet did feel so queer Just think ! I am enyayed ! my dear. .ABBATH 3N THE 80UNTRY. The hazy sunshine softly fills The valleys, bright with yellow grain, And glints upon the bare, brown hills That girt the landscape like a chain. Untouched the nodding harvest stands; The reaping engine is at rest; And on the richly burthened lands No lab'rer's foot to-day is prest. The jaded horse, from harness free, Stands dreaming in the pasture lone; The gentle cows beneath the trees To seek their grateful shade have gone. Thickly the cones of fragrant hay Bestud the close-shorn meadow land; Like to some tented camp seem they As, ranged in rows precise, they stand. Stretched at full length the watch-dog lies Asleep within the porch's shade; Impatient, shakes his ears at flies That oft his lazy ease invade. Within the tidy farmhouse door The comely housewife sits at ease, Her fingers idly turning o'er The Bible resting on her knees. Near her within his "old arm chair," His snowy shirt by coat unhid, The farmer sits; the sultry air Brings nodding sleep to him unbid. No jangling bells the day proclaim From steeples tall, with swelling sound But dreamy quiet holds her reign, And over all is peace profound. 42 (3-UARD. A CAMPAIGN POEM. Once more come to the front, Once more united stand; Once more unfurl the battle-flag The conflict is at hand. The old, old battle, fought So oft with sword and pen In years agone, still ever new, Calls for you once again. Ask not if ye shall gain Or lose the coming fight; But stand as true as tempered steel For principle and right. Let the half -hearted fall Urge not the weak to stay They came to you among the last, They're first to go away. For spoils they sought your ranks, And wove therein their toils; They leave you for a party now Whose principles are spoils. Stand firm, then, we adjure you, In the name of those dark years When, in the grand old party, Were centred all the fears And hopes of the Republic Years when, with bated breath, Men talked, with deep emotion, Of the nation's coming death. 43 In the sacred name of Freedom In the name of those true men Who fill a million lonely graves, In valley, grove and glen, Who yielded up their lives That your principles might live, Stand firm; nor to the wily foe A single hair's breadth give. Stand firm ! Do ye forget That the battle once again Is with those who starved your kindred In a Eebel prison pen ? With those same men, unchanged in heart, Who once have dared to drag Down into slav'ry's blood-stained mire, Our country's sacred flag ? Ye have a noble heritage; A martyr'd Lincoln's name Sheds o'er your past its splendor; In a lofty niche of fame The future shall record your deeds, If, in each earnest fight, Ye shall, as in the old dark days, Stand firm for truth and right. 44 10 STEPHEN AND EMILY. READ AT THE CELEBRATION OF THE SILVER WEDDING OF JUDGE AND MRS. STEPHEN . NYE, SAN LEANDRO, CAL. Pow, Stephen and Em'ly, stand up before us And let usyour friends commend you in chorus As a fair sort of husband and an excellent wife Who together have reached a great land mark in life. Twenty-five summers (and winters) ago The journey commenced, and, as we all know, It has progressed in peace 'mid hopes and 'mid fears, Attended with joys not unmingled with tears. And so the world says and we say as well 'Twas a good thing that these two together should dwell; But, Em'ly, we know, at least do not doubt That Stephen has quirks none but you have found out. Quite likely this cheerful and excellent man Has oft tried your patience as he only can; And the whimsical moods of the contrary bear Have been such they've almost compelled you to despair. But you've this to console you, the success that you've had, Considering material, has not been so bad; You've worked him all over and polished him down Till, really, he's not the worst fellow in town. And no doubt, hed say if we'd give him a chance That, at times, lies been led a quite lively dance; But he shant have the privilege to talk if he would, For we're all well aware that 'twas done for his good. And so, though the foibles of each are now plain, If life's journey had to be traveled again You'd start out together in your hearts you both know You would do as you did twenty -five years ago. in TARINGS. Oh, that my soul were lifted up, To sweep the poet's lyre Till it should thrill with melody. Oh, for a pen of fire With which to write, in " words that burn," A lofty, thrilling song, Whose numbers should enchant mankind And sway each wav'ring throng. Oh, fora voice whose clarion tones Should fill the throbbing air, And sweep across the mountain chains And o'er the valleys fair; A voice whose startling notes should strike The listener dumb with dread, And stir each sluggish soul to life And wake the silent dead. Were such a voice vouchsafed to me, And such a thrilling pen, As the wild tempest sways the trees, I'd sway the souls of men. I'd tell them, as with eager looks They gazed, (O glorious thought,) I'd tell them they should do should do I'm blessed, if I know what.