Campbell Daughter of the Rogues THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ^)$&?^5f^K^y\ 3 <?^<&>W^ff 3 0;O|^o)Ol^o)O|foO) S^t^ JS,ifo ) A Daughter of the Rogues A Tale of the Rogue River Valley BTo OiPjro o of n o Oifo QOfo OiPjrc oiofb ojo^v, o oft 010 Copyrighted 1919 By RICHARD POSEY CAMPBELL ASHLAND, OREGON $& Q }W2A< A Daughter of the I^ogues A Tale of the Rogue River ValUy Copyrighted 1919 By RICHARD POSEY CAMPBELL ASHLAND, OREGON PS DEDICATORY TO THE FEW WHO MAY CHANCE TO READ THIS SIMPLE TALE, IT IS DEDICATED. Should it give you a momentary glimpse into the wealth of America s scenic splendor, a taste for the great out-of-doors, a loftier ideal of the worth of true friendship, the beauty of an un selfish spirit, and the sacred purity of a love that would sacrifice all on the alter of its de votion, then this little story shall not have been told in vain. DICK POSEY. 762871 Dick Posey A Dau&hfer of the Rogues i checked my jaded horse before a door Where toiled an old man in his garden there, And, much emboldened by his courteous smile, Besought him that a weary man might fare A day or so beneath his friendly roof. "Aye, you are welcome in our home," he said, "There s none to say he found no welcome here, My wife and I are both Virginia bred, The latch string ever hangs from out our door. But she is old and sick, our fare is plain, So, for your comfort, I do not hesitate To point you to the weary trail again, Which, if you follow on for one brief mile, Will lead you to the Squaw Man . He, I know Can give you food and shelter, and he will, For he is kind, leastwise I find him so, Though some there be that say he is morose And does not mingle with them. Even so, He is my friend. And then, his squaw is good And passing fair as Indian women go." I thanked him kindly, for I could but feel Twas even as he said. My horse trudged on And ever as we went I felt the spell Of gorgeous landscape meeting sky of June, Dk-k Posey The rugged mountains, Cascades, Siskiyous, Green garbed in all the splendor of the spring, And, at their feet the Valley of the Rogue, Sweet with blooming trees and birds that sing. And as I sensed it all with quickened breath, I laughed to feel the surge of rich, red blood. Within my arteries. No longer Death Lurked in my footsteps. The dry, expanded air, The breath of resinous woods, the simple food, Cooked all unaided by some mountain stream And plucked from Nature s hand by gun and rod, The rugged out door life, all these Had strengthened me and given zest to life And banished death to three score years and ten. And as I rode thus musing on the trail, My eyes uplifted to a beauteous range Of foothills stretched between two sentinels, Grizzly Peak and Roxy Ann, a sudden, strange Twist of fate, such as does sometimes enter Into life s circle and warp and change us Till life whirls around another center, Took shape before me in the form and face Of one most dear to me, my boyhood s chum. For many months I d reckoned him as dead, Yet there he stood before me, wild-eyed, dumb! While a mighty continent lay between Dick Posey Old Hudson s banks, where both were born and bred, And Oregon, where both this miracle had seen. "Why Phil!" I gasped, "and what in heaven s name" Old Jack as I m a sinner!" Wild surprise Thrilled in our voices as with firm clasped hands We looked with glad content in friendship s eyes. We talked as only pals can talk when they Have much in common, friends at home, And all the changes wrought, marriages, deaths, Our boyhood pranks and how I chanced to come Away out here into this rugged land. And ever as we talked it seemed that he Avoided self, would grasp me by the hand Anew and shake it with fevered fervor, Telling me o er and o er how glad he was To find me there, how we would scale those hills And whip the streams far up the Siskiyous For trout, the like of which I d never seen. He knew the haunts of elk and deer and bear; Where mountain quail and grouse and pheasants used; We d rest a spell, then he would take me there. And thus he gabbled till, in self defense, And spurred on by a mountain appetite, I cried, "Desist old scout, pray lead us hence, Bold Daniel Boone, pathfinder of the Rogue, Dick Posey I re a hunger keen as a cross-cut saw, I feel that I could ravenously devour A grouse or deer or grizzly bear blood raw. My venerable Virginia friend back there Spoke of a mighty chieftain hereabout, Where I might find refreshment and great ease Within his teepee, and I have no doubt But that I should have found him somewhere near. He lauded this great squaw man to the skies, And added that his squaw was passing fair. But, ere I test their hospitality, I fain would taste your salt, O comrade mine, So, lead on to your camp fire ere I swoon, We ll talk of aur adventures as we dine." I d thus railed on while easing up the cinch On my spent horse, and noting that he said No word in answer, I glanced toward my friend And stared aghast! He stood with bowed head, Nor could he speak nor meet my wondring gaze, The droop of shame sagging his shoulders down, While o er his face the color came and went And left him pale. Twas pitiful, I own, To see this idol of my earlier life, The toasted hero of athletic field, Captain and leader of each college strife, The polished favorite of the drawing room, With pride of social rank and stainless birth, Thus like a felon sentenced to his doom. Dick Posej "Philip, old friend," I grasped his nerveless hand, "If I have said in thoughtless strain one word To stamp upon your brow this show of pain, Forget it, Phil, consider it unheard. This love of ours is far too great a thing To let some empty word, but idly sped In senseless railery, though barbed with steel, Stalk through the echoing halls of friendship dead, Nor would I probe the secrets of your past, I do but ask your trusted friendship back." With head still oowed, but in a firmer tone He answered me, "I am the Squaw Man , Jack." Small wonder that he shrank from decent gaze! I knew the breed, treacherous and bestial, Reeking in filth, their squalid, stinking tents Swarming with mangy dogs and insects rile. But still I loved him and I told him so. That is my way, when once I find a friend And take him to my bosom, his virtues Overbalance far his weakness in the end. With scarce unbroken silence he led me by A winding path to where his cottage stood. It was a winsome spot and sweet to see, With madrone grove casting its shady flood Dick Posey O er velvet grasses sprinkled thick with flowers, And, trellised over door and window pane, Were flowering vines most beautifully arranged, And scattered round, roses of every name. I caught my breath in wonder at the scene, "Beautiful," I said, "it takes my breath away." He smiled most gratefully, "Well, I am glad, For it is yours as long as you will stay." He led me to a shaded rustic seat, And, going to a spring house near at hand, Came back to me with pitcher brimming o er With choicest beverage of any land, Rich, creamy milk, the nectar of the gods! Seating himself beside me he began Unasked : PHILIP S STORY. I wish to tell my story first, I ll try to finish with it if I can Ere she returns my wife I mean. She s gone To visit some sick baby and may come Within the half hour, and it is not well That she should hear, for, well Jack, there are some Things that I would not have her know, for she s Sensitive and I would not give her pain If I can help it, for she loves we well, As she has proven o er and o er again. Dick Pose I think it is not needful that I tell About my life before I came away, My change of fortune in one single stroke That left me stranded, and I need not say To you what sank me deepest in despair. God, how I loved her, Jack! And then to have Her cast me from her life without one tear, Hurl back upon me all the love I gave! Of course, her purse-proud people doubtlessly, (For that she loved me some I am convinced), O er ruled such passion as she felt for me. But when in coolei moments I did pause And weigh the matter calmly in my mind, I know I d not have asked of her to wait Till I, without experience, might find A way to fortune. So, without much care, I sold the few securities I found Left floating in the wreck, and such small things As I no longer needed, that abound In the apartments of a bachelor. I found mongst .11 my friends but very few I cared to bid farewell. Strange how such things Can change one s nature so, but it is true. I left, not knowing whither I should go, Just wandered aimlessly from place to place, Did such small jobs as I could find to do To eke out the small pittance in my purse. But ever as I went I traveled west, Dick Po.iey Ever I kept my face turned from the spot Where I had suffeied so, and it seemed best, For constant change would buoy my spirits up. No labor was too menial for my hands, Was just content to breakfast, dine and sup. No use to weary you with dull detail About my journey cross the continent, You ve covered the same route, so please review Your own experience and be content. One day I d ridden far across a stretch Of dreary sage land, shimmering with heat. My grub was spent and I was parched with thirst And near exhausted, for I could not eat Such food as I could buy from Indian hoard, You ve seen the breed and know the reason why. For weary hours I d watched a line of trees That cut across the plain, unerringly Betraying to my eager, famished gaze Sure signs of living water, and, perchance, A rabbit or sage hen or speckled trout, Refreshment seasoned with the sauce of chance. I reached the stream near sunset and had but Alighted from my horse to ease the load Of pack and saddle from his aching back, When suddenly from out the shade there strode A graceful buck, with sleek and shining coat. Dick Posey Magnificent he was and fair to see, Proud monarch of his realm of trackless plain, Clothed in true grace and untaught dignity. One moment did I note the splendid form, And then with silent reach my rifle found, When with good luck and but a single shot I lay the antlered monarch on the ground. With exaltation high I cast aside My rifle and unclasped my hunting knife And in a moment I was bending o er My prize, so lately full of joyous life. Of course, the act was rash and did betray My utter ignorance of huntsman s lore, And, since Experience is a teacher rare, Who oftentimes must wield the birch before We are well schooled to battle with this life, It happened thus I learned my lesson there. For scarce the tender throat had felt the sting Of knife point reaching for an artery, E er my prone supper, with a sudden spring, Had hurled .me backward with such graceful ease, And then he charged me, maddened with his pain, Enraged beyond endurance with the keen Same of hatred for his foe. Twas in vain I tried to reach my rifle where it lay, He was upon me like a rifle shot! Dick Posey I took the impact of his antlered head Upon my shoulder, and I felt a hot Pang where the frontal prong had pierced my flesh, And though it caused an ecstasy of pain, It brought a sense of clamness to my mind, I must meet force with force, instinct with brain. I grasped the mighty antlers of the beast, Full three feet did they spread from tip to tip, And, bending to my foe s impetuous lunge, We tested strength to strength. Twas well my grip Was strong, my tendons hammered into steel Back there on college campus in my youth; Twas well I d ben- the oar of bounding shell That sped old Harvard into fame again; Twas well I d sucked the keen breath of the plains And fed from bounteous palm of Nature s hand; My entire life seemed shaped and focalized To meet this champion of a rugged land. A spell we stood transfixed with muscles taut, Each feeling for some weakness in his foe, When suddenly he reared and, striking out, The sharp edge of his hoof cut keenly through Thick leathern "chap" into the flesh beneath, And I could feel the warm blood trickling down. Twaa then my manhood left me, and the brute Dick Posey Of ancient forbears claimed me for its own. I glared into his eye with bestial hate And met defiance in his maddened stare, I tried to break his neck with sudden twist, And wrenched it till he squealed and bellowed there; I caught his blood-flecked lip between my teeth And held on like a bull dog; he swung me round, But I forestalled his trick and held him down. Then back and forth we struggled, inch by inch, His antlers biting deep into my chest, My clothing torn to ribbons, but I dare Not loose my iron grip upon him, lest He strike me down to death. We struggled on, I felt him tremble with the awful strain Of twisted neck and vital wound within; His breath came hot and labored, while again I tried to break his neck by artful twist But found my strength near gone; my ears drummed loud; The universe seemed tumbling into chaos; My brain reeled dizzy with the stress of blood; My mem ry rolled backward like an endless chain; I viewed my past as does a drowning man. And in that blurring vision shone the face Of her I loved, and as the vision ran, It seemed she mocked me, yet she spurred me on; I felt my senses going, the dark shroud Of blank oblivion was settling down, When I, in wonder, did but feebly sense Dick Posey A shiver through his form, a smothered groan, Then near at hand a sudden sharp report Of rifle, then darkness came upon me. I woke to sweet sound of gurgling water That taunted my parched thirst to agony, And when my eyelids lifted I saw dimly An Indian maiden bending over me. "Me wantum drink," I gasped; "heap thirsty, iabe? She pressed my own cup brimming to my lips, And then I swooned again within her arms. I wakened to soft touch of finger tips Upon my brow, and when she saw that I Was conscious, she placed me upon the ground. "You re better now," she said, "the worst is past." Her voice was low and gentle, and I found Her English pure as mine. "I humbly crave Your pardon, lady, but I thought you were " I stammered. "Indian? Well, I am," she said, "Or partly so," and then I looked at her And knew she was a "breed." Her splendid strength Sustained me as I struggled to my feet, Dick Pos And stayed me as I climbed the sloping bank Down which, unaided, she had borne my weight. My prostrate foe lay where he had fallen, While on the carcas worked an Indian crone, Hideous, toothless, eager at her task. "I wish to thank some one for my poor life. I feel, beyond a doubt, I need not ask Who fired the shot that robbed my valiant foe Of well earned victory, so I thank you." "Pray no," she answered with a glint of mirth, "That I did slay him, I admit is true, But then we needed meat. My granddame there Counts this but a godsend, and if you find It in your heart to claim it, I pray you not, She s all I hare, and sometimes she is kind." I found my wounds most painful. Ere many steps I settled down once more upon the ground, And lay there twixt a torpor and a swoon. She bathed with water cool each painful wound And tended me with graceful skill and soon I felt the strength come back into my veins. She helped me up and unresistingly I followed to their lodge, twas very clean And wholesome, and, old friend, it seemed to m A paradise compared with what I d seen Dick Poiey For many months. A couch of woundrous ease Refreshed my tortured body, and a cool Draught of refreshing wine from vines and tres. Sweet with wild honey, and the soft, cool touch Of woman s hand, refreshed and soothed me to rat That night my wounds grew fevered and I raved, And for some days I hung twixt life and death, But ever I could sense a woman near. And sometimes I would wait with bated brath Till she bent over me, then I would grasp Her hands, pour out my love entreatingly, Gabble the silly nonsense of my youth, Thinking she was the one most dear to m. Abundant health, clean blood and tender care Soon yielded me my strength in partial meed. The food was wholesome, fish and venison, Wampus, a sort of bread made from ripe seed Of swamp lillies, most pleasing to the taste, Wild fruits, honey and roots dug from the earth, All poured out richly in this favored land, And, to these simple folk, of priceless worth. On day we two were seated by th str^ai The Indian maiden, Niona and I. In angwer to her earned questioning Dick Po I told her of my life, and eagerly She listened as a child would to a tale Of fairy land, go little did she know Of this great worll outside her simple life. Then in return, I felt it right to show An interest in her and asked that she Would tell me of her past. At first she shrank And hesitated to confide in me. And then in simple candor, modest grac, She told me of her life. And O, my friend, Twas pitiful. I could but blush in shame And loathing at my own race in the end: "My people on my mother s side were Rogues, A warlike tribe that ranged these rugged lands, And fought your people till you crushed them down And tore this rich realm from their bloody hands. Pe/haps twas best my mother s tribe should dia An<A be naught but a memory, a dream. We simple folk but fail to understand The many ways of Providence, and why The weak should erer bow before the strong. They fought the white man for the right to liv Their simple lires in their own simple way, But thy were erushed and, dying, did but giT Blow for blow, defiance against strength And passed in bitter hate, as was their way. Dick Poey "My granddame there was married in her youth To a white hunter of the Hudson Bay, And when my mother lay upon her breast, A new born babe, he left them there alone And ne er returned. perhaps twas for the best. "They tell me that my mother s face was fair, Her form was comely, and she grew in grace And beauty as the seasons came and went. I nerer could recall her form and face, She died when I was but a little child. But oft my granddame talked of her to me. She grew to maidenhood amid the wild Environs of our tribal life and ways, And many of her kind did try to win Her hand in marriage in her youthful days, But e er it seemed the white blood in her veint Would cry aloud for mating with its kind. "One day there came a white man to the camp, Handsome and bold, and twas not hard to find A welcome, for he carried treasures rich And dear to Indian hearts, and found his way Into their simple confidence with gifts That cost him little. And day by day He traded with them, giving beads for pelts, And knives for skins of otter, perchance a gun, Dick Post Powder and ball for priceless sable fox. Thus to his gain their confidence he won. He gained my mother s heart as easily As I thus pluck this poppy from its stem, And they were married by our simple rites. It seems that peace and comfort dwelt with them For many moons, he ever was most kind, And she enthroned him in her woman s heart And, bowing down, she worshipped at his shrine. But then it chanced a white man came to camp With letters for my father, and he grew Restless and morose, yet yielding ofttimes To fits of tenderness, as though he knew Her for the priceless treasure that she was Whom he much feared to lose. And then one day He bade Farewell for but a little while And left her with her tribe and went away And ne er returned to her, then I was born. "She died within a twelvemonth from my birth, Sank peacefully to rest one bright spring morn Ere my frail lips had learned to lisp her name Or memory stored the image of her form. "I grew apace, as healthy childhood grows, Basking in sunshine, buffeted by storm, Dick Posey Scaling bold heights or tramping many miles The pathless forest, for I knew no fear. But as I grew, the children of my age Avoided me and oftentimes would sneer And call me Paleface, for they understood The blood of two white men flowed in my veins, So I was outcast from hate of alien blood. I brooded much alone and nursed the hope My father would some day return to me And take me with him out into the world, But he has ne er returned. "My friend, I can not see Why he should bring me to this harsh cold world And leave me here alone. Nor could I tell Why a just God, in whom I ve learned to trust, Who ever guards and loves the sparrow well, Should thus forsake me when I ve done no harm. I now but hope my father may be dead, I find no comfort in the thought that he Still lives, yet gives his flesh and blood r.o bread Nor comfort of his presence and his /ovo. "One day, a missionary, passing by, Did find me weeping in my loneliness, And, by his questioning, and kindly eye, Won my young trust to him so that I told Him of my childish griefs. He heard me through Dick Pose; And talked to me in gentle, kindly way Till I had bared my whole life to his view. Ah, he was kind and tender! and he wept At my poor sorrows, and I knew that I Had found a friend. "He took me to his home And there I lived three happy, blissful years. He taught me what I know, and O, the joy I found in many books! no heartaches, fears, Nor taunts nor bitter hatreds flung at me Because of hated white blood in my veins. And then I came to know that God is just, And though we suffer much, His strength sustains Us till at last tis measured back in joy. "It seems that keenest pleasures soonest end As brightest sun but speeds the coming shower, One autumn night death robbed me of my friend. He left me all his books and such small store Of simple furniture as you have seen Within our lodge, but richer, dearer far, He left a memory with me like a green And fruitful land, that has enriched my life. And given me a hold on better things. Dick Posey "I tarried at the settlement a while, Taking such gifts as fickle Fortune brings, And in the main they were most kind to me, Yet soon I missed his kind protecting care. They knew that Indian blood flowed in my veins. And I soon sensed the chasm stretching there Between the outcast and her father s race. And then one day I drained the bitter dregs Of outraged womanhood and shame, I need Not tell you all, but one did offer me Black insult, for he knew I was a breed. "I struck him fiercely on the lips, then fled Back to my native tribe, but soon I knew There was no welcome for me, even there, Then Granddame brought me to this spot, and you Now know Niona s history." She paused And I could see the look of weary pain Upon her face, and understood how she Had suffered while living o er her life again. I felt a soft splash on my hand and knew My eyes were wet from pity of the child. I spoke no word, for feeble words ne er do Convey the sense of feelings deeply stirred. So I but pressed her hand in sympathy Dick Pose: And lingered by her side, while each was touched With sympathy for each. Then gently she Did look into my eyes and ask that I Should tell her of the one I deeply loved, And who did not return my love, and why I still should love her so. And then I knew I d babbled in my tortured, fevered dreams. And so I told her all, as brothers do With sisters whom they feel that they can truit. "And yet you love her, when you know that she Returns it not or measures it with gold?" She asked. I did not speak, but silently 1 bowed my head. "And, friend, is there not one In this great world that you do know so well, Among the many women you have known, Who, knowing you, would love you for yourself?" I felt my spirit suddenly recoil As if it were profaned. "No, no, my friend, I can not lift my love from virgin soil Where it is rooted, and with careless hand Transplant and fix it in another life, You have not loved or you would understand," I answered. Dick Posey "You would still make her your wife If you had gold in plenty and could give Her priceless jewels, robes of richest hue, And all the things most precious in her eyes, If these would win such love as hers to you?" I did not speak to her but knew that she Had read the answer in my eager face. Then she arose and beckoned me to come, And silently I followed from the place, Still haunted by the picture she had drawn And conjured out of nothingness for me. How long we walked I know not, but at last She paused within a canyon. Silently She pointed upward where a stream did leap From lip of precipice through giddy space And, caught by playful breeze, it broke in spray, Tumbling and bounding in the merry race For lower levels. And it chanced the sun Topped the high hills and sent its piercing ray Through sparkling prisms, dancing in mid air, And Lo! a rainbow spanned the narrow, Robing Niona with celestial light. It was a scene most beautiful, my friend, Mid all the wonders of this wondrous land, And she was beautiful, twas not till then That I did sense the comeliness of her, Dick Posey Her artless grace and unspoiled maidenhood, And had my heart been free and unpossessed I think I could have loved her as she stood. "Aha! you re standing at the rainbow s end, And Where s the pot of gold, my lovely queen?" I cried with sudden happiness of heart, Caught from the strange, wild beauty of the scene. "And shall we play at fairies, friend of mine?" She cried, "Your fate is resting in my hand. And shall I beckon goblins from their haunts, Or summon fairies with my willow wand? Now, since I will to you your heart s desire, Tis thus Niona brings you back your loTe." She swept apart the bushes at her side And motioned me within a little cove, Formed by the arching of great jagged rocks. The place seemed spectral in the dim half-night And I did not note Niona s face shone pale, And that her eyes seemed burning with the light Of fierce fires kindled deep within her soul. "My friend, the rainbow ended here," she said, And, pointing down, "Behold your pot of gold." And there it lay! a tempting, gleaming mass, Pure virgin gold, full freed by Nature s hand Dick Poiey From rotting quartz! My wildest boyhood dream Had never pictured fabled wealth so grand. And as my greedy eyes devoured the scene, I marked the ledge tween walls of porphyry Clearly defined, noted the timber there Ready for use, nor did I fail to see The cataract that bared its brawny arm To crush the golden quartz with fist of steel, All this) I noted as I stood there dumb. And then, half dazed, I felt the gentle touch Of trembling fingers, and Niona s voice Seemed faint and distant as if overmuch The mental strain had sapped her strength away: "And is Niona s gift enough," she breathed "To win your lova back to your empty arms? Is it enough to fill her heart with love And add true passion to her many charms? Is it enough to deck her in rich robes, And hang rare jewels on her snowy breast? If it but brings true happiness to you Niona is content her friend is blest." I looked into her earnest, candid eyes, Whence shone her soul in pure transparency, And knew my image rested in her heart. Dick Pos< Of course , I loved her not, but just to see A love s>D pure, unselfish, she would give Herself, her soul, her all with bleeding heart To let my poor, mean, selfish passion live. My friend, it was a glimpse of Paradise. And though my early love yet fettered me, I knew my soul would ne er be satisfied With aught but glad, unselfish love for me. And then I told her that I could not take This rich gift from her hand, and idly go Through life in wealth and luxury and ease, While she no happiness nor peace would know; That her sweet unselfishness had put to shame The memory of her whom yet I loved; That, hud the wealth she offered me been mine By righit of honest toil, her act had proved I ne er <eould be content with purchased love. She said but little and we left the spot With scarce a backward glance, and all that night I wrestled with the problem of our fate. 1 could not leave her thus, I had no right When he had saved me from a brutal death, And, from the fullness of unselfish love, She gladly offered me her new found wealth, Dick To build my life upon her broken heart. Jack, I could not leave her thus, nor could I Ask her to leave her lodge with me unwed. I thought of marriage, but I held the tie Too sacred. Then to think of child of mine Who must endure the taint of Indian blood! And my imagination conjured up Tales that often I had read in boyhood, Of how a hybred breed would oft revert To darkened skin or bestial savagery. And then Niona s sad, sweet face would com* Before my mental vision, silently Rebuking all my selfish fears and doubts Next day I asked the child to marry me, To link her life with mine that we might go Away together, and explained that she Need but to love me as a brother true, And she would be a sister by my side, To cheer and comfort me. And I did pledg* To be her faithful brother and abide With her the same as if my parents blood Flowed in her veins, and hold inviolate Her maiden purity, and she should Be the sister for whom I d ever yearnd. At flnt she wept and gaid it could not be, Her Indian blood would evr hold m down Dick Posey To her own level; that men would call me "The Squaw Man"; that the time might come when I Would look upon her with a sense of shame, And that would break her heart and wreck my life And cast a blight upon my father s name. I reasoned with her long and earnestly, Telling her that never should I return To childhood home, for none was left there now To comfort me or for my presence yearn, Till finally she yielded her consent. Next day we sought an agency nearby And found a missionary well content To earn a marriage fee, and we were wed. Niona s granddame seemed quite reconciled, Taking with greedy hands the gifts I gava, Happy and eager as a little child To bid farewell and go back to her tribe. We harvested Niona s yellow gold With eagerness frail words can ne er describe. The lust for it seems born within us, and Where e er it tracks its yellow, gleaming trail Man grasps for it with clutching greedy hand, Though it should lead him to the jaws of Hell. We marked the ledge and measured off our claimg As I had learned in camp. Dick Poser No use to tell You all or weary you with dull detail, Inside a month a princely fortune came Within our hands. We settled in this spot, And here we still abide, even the same As when I married her, a sister, she, And to keep my pledge I faithfully have tried. But often I do feel the bitter sting Of deep humiliation, not of my pride, But that I know how keen she feels the pain When neighbors, thoughtless, but with fair intent Do call me "Squaw Man", and it is in vain I tell her that it matters naught to me, Yet she will often brood alone and weep, Thinking it fault of hers that I must drink The wormwood of humiliation deep. Ah! Niona." And she was standing there. Queenly she was and very fair to see, Straight and well rounded as the mountain pine, Her eyes like moonless midnight, and the free, Easy poise of her, and womanly grace Of form and feature made a picture rare, Well graven in my heart. And now that I Do look back from ripe age and see her there, And though the fires of passion burn but low, Dick Poaey I feel anew the same sweet, thrilling charm That drew my soul to her, I know not how. He called her to us and in kindly words He named me as his nearest, dearest friend, Asking her kindly welcome, which in grace And simple dignity she did extend. I found their home a cozy little nest Filled with comfort such as ample means afford* In frontier Oregon, and O! the rest And luxury of easy couch; and food Prepared by woman s hand; and the dear Memories of home; the scent of flowers In radiant glory; the sweet atmosphere, Fragrant and clean rinsed through resinous boughs; And, spread before us in beauty unsurpassed, The Valley of the Rogue, bedecked in all The radiance of summer, and the vast Stretch of encircling mountains, like a frame To wondrous picture from the hand of God. Much have I wandered in my earthly span, Many a foreign land my feet have trod; I have gazed on Alpine beauty, Egypt, Dick Posejr And sacred Palestine, where God came down From central realm of Universal Space And took man to his bosom as his own; I ve scaled the lofty Andes of the South And left footprints in the Himalayan snow But ne er a spot on earth compares with this Sweet Valley of the Rogue, where ever blow Zephyrs laden with the smell of flowers, Softened in winter by the ocean s breath, Cooled in midsummer by high altitudes Where lurk eternal snows in mountain cleft. And so the happy days slid by like happy dreams In happy childhood, and we three drew near Each other, as do souls in intimate And congenial intercourse, grow yet more dear. Philip made good his promise and we spent Long days in keenest sport with rod and creel. And O, the joy of casting tempting fly Into some shaded pool! and then to feel The surge of unseen life with startled plunge, Try to escape the thing that checks its speed And binds it to some enemy it fears! With joy we note the singing reel and hed The bend of supple rod, and rush of line Neath burning finger. Sudden it doth break Dick Posey The glassy surface of the pool, and high It leaps into the air and tries to shake The hook from aching throat, then down once more Into its native element, and yields To unknown skill it cannot understand. Niona told us of a lake that wields A fearsome spell upon the Indian heart. It lay upon the crest of the Cascades, Deep sunk within a cavern, and twas said No warrior is so brave but he evades The weird enchantment of the awful spot, Lest demons that disport beneath the wave Will clutch his soul and pull him down to Hell. Nor durst they even look upon it, save In winter when tis crusted o er with ice, Which holds the demons prisoned down below. Twas known among the whites as "Craker Lake", And we arranged a pilgrimage to go And view this wondrous work of nature s hand. I find not space within this humble tale To tell to you the glories we beheld. And had I ipace, my puny words would fail To lift the canvas from God s masterpiece. We threaded forests where the giant pine Dick Posey Rose smooth and limbless for an hundred feet; We mounted granite pinnacles to find New undiscovered glories spread beneath, Around, above us, far as eye could reach, Which we could but behold with bated breath; We stumbled upon dazzling silver lakes, Smiling in sunlight, one that I recall, "Lake of the Woods," folded in Woodland arms, An artist s dream, rare jewel of them all; And then the luxury of evening camp, Pitched hastily on brink, of murm ring stream, And then the banquet of the wilderness! The sizzling venison, delicious steam Of fragrant coffee, diet of the gods! Speak not to me of gilded banquet hall, Where wealth and beauty grace the glit tring board, Where glint of gems on snowy bosoms call A challenge to the gleam of radiant wine, Where softened music like a pleasant dream Steals on the sated ear in strains divine; But, kindly spread my banquet neath the trees, With tried and kindred spirits clustered round, Where wealth of intellect and grace of soul And trusted friendship ever may be found. And, should we look for gleaming jewels there, Just look above, each incandescent star Dick POSH., Gleams from its sapphire setting in the sky And spreads its brilliant radiance from afar. And music? Listen to the waterfall; The chirp of homing bird in glad content; The hum of insects; note of night-hawk s call; The whispering trees; all form one instrument, Which, swept by velvet touch of summer breeze, Makes one vast, sobbing melody sublime, That lulls us into slumber neath the trees. Early one morning, wading deep in snow, As dazzled eyes did meet the sun s first rays, We topped the frustum of a mighty cone, The object of our tramp of many days. Tis but a remnant of the loftiest peak That in past ages graced the Cascade Range, Ere smothered gases, deep within the earth, Biting igneous walls, did feel a strange Blast from mighty furnaces below, And suddenly igniting, loosed the strength That shook a hemisphere from pole to pole; Then upward leaping through the blackened length Of vast volcanic throat it tore its way, Shaking the mountain from its base to crest In a mad rush toward the light of day; Till shortened radius could no longer hold The force within. The mountain burst In twain. Dick Posey Its mighty apex leaping to the sky, And then a deluge of infernal rain Of fiery lava scorched the helpless earth. And when in time, the pre-historic sun Peered through the rifts of rapor, it beheld A ruined mountain. And tis thus was won The rock-ribbed resting place of Crater Lake. Straight down below our eyes two thousand feet Trembled the surface of this wondrous lake. It lay there slumbering in its bed, replete With unearthly beauty, its sapphire hue Richer by far than blue of summer skies. And as it dimpled to the wind s soft kiss, New shades and colors met our hungry eyes, And fleecy clouds, hung laziry above, Were mirrored back in all their beauty rare; And warrior eagle, soaring in the sky, Shrieked angry challenge to his reflex there. And, cheat of human vision! It but seemed A scant two miles across from brim to brim, But when you chain its vast circumference, Full twenty miles it measures round its rim. And then, the sweetness of its solitude; The patience of the Hand that set it there; Dick Posej The deep blue of the arching sky above; The vigor of its clean, pure atmosphere, All stamped upon my soul indelibly, To dwell with me through all eternity. We pitched our camp beside an ice cold spring That gushed from rocks in crystal purity, And there we dwelt for many happy days. We climbed new heights, gained different points of view, Thus adding to the scene in varied ways. And ever did our hearts respond in warmth To richer friendships springing up between. And gladly did I note the tender care That Philip gave Niona. It was e en My fondest hope that some day her sweet grace And womanly devotion would awake Within his heart the lore of man for wife, The richest earthly gift from God we take. For that she loved him deeply I did know, Although she simply asked a sister s part Beside him in their cordial, friendly life, But yet another image filled his heart. I often ponder in these later years On the strange riddle of this human love. Tis but a tangled skein in clumsy hands, My fingers meddling with what Fate has wore. Dick Posey I knew the one whc still ruled Philip s life, Selfish, fickle, with but scarce a thought Or care for all life s grander, nobler things. And then to see the one whom Pate had brought Into his life, fit queen for any king, Ah, could but love as that have touched my life, Wedded to me in purity and trust, With all the sweet intimacies of wife And husband, cementing our lives in one! Then, by God s grace, to feel the gentle touch Of baby hands, helpless yet strong as steel, Binding our souls with thankfulness o ermuch, 1 should not now, at three score years and ten, Mourn for the wife who never had been mine, Nor feel this lonely void of empty arms. One day while we were basking in the shine Of faultless summer, a neighbor came to us To look upon the beauties of the lake. He tarried through the day and won our hearts With his gay bant ring, and we did take, With welcome from his hand, a goodly store Of venison. His wife was Indian bred, And through her rights he d taken up rich lands. And he urged that Philip, since he had wed An Indian, should profit by the law Dick Posey And file on lands adjoining his domain, And by united effort in much ease They d win a fortune to their mutual gain. Twas through a neighbor s kindness that he spok But I could see the sudden droop of shame And flush of wounded pride on Philip s face At thought or mention of the hated name Of "Squaw-man." And Niona at my side Grew rigid, and twas pitiful to see The look she bent en Philip, and to note The travatt of her soul in agony. And when the man had left us we did feel That suddenly, the spot that charmed us so, Had lost its spell upon us, and we planned That early the next morning we should go Back to the ease and comfort of a home. After the sun had set I left the camp To take a last view of the wondrous scene. I clambered down the rocky trail til I Had reached the margin of the lake, but e en Its woundrous beauty failed to touch my heart. I watched the summer moon rise pale and white O er all before me, and the loveliness But added to my sense of solitude. I pondered deeply on the ways of Pate, Trying in vain to sound the fickle mood Dick Posey In which she chose to hold two lives apart. I looked into my heart and knew that they Were both most dear to me, and hoped that I Had found like favor with them and hoped the daj Would come ere long when I should see them wed In soul as well as by the laws of man. Possessed of wealth surpassing all their needs, With honesty of purpose toward each, and With wealth of intellect to take a grasp Upon the richer, nobler things of life, It seemed to me a union, blest indeed, The mating of a manly man with one Possessed of all to fill life s cup with joy. And thus my mind did wander on and on, Conjuring up a dream that pleased me much, When I should find sweet comfort in their home, Seated with them around the glowing hearth, While children of their love, perchance would come, And clamber on my knee in friendliness. I pictured them out in the world of men, Where he by rigat of character should dwell, And she could have her chance among them. Then, My lazy fancy saw her standing by The one that robbed her of a husband s love, And I could see Niona s splendid form Well robed in fashion s fancies, see her move Dick Posey In queenliness among her kind, and how Her eyes would sparkle in the brilliant light. Pictured her hair, black as a raven s wing, Her rounded bosom aglint with jewels bright, And smiled to see the other s feeble charms Sink into nothing by Niona s side. I took a farewell glance upon the lake, Then, looking up, I saw a dark form glide Out on a jutting crag that overhung The hungry waters full three hundred feet. My pulses chilled, for there Niona stood In silhouette against the sky. Then sweet Her voice came floating to me through the gloom, The voice she lifted up in prayer to God: "Father above, in whom I ve learned to trust, Who knowest the stony path my feet have trod, If thou canst hear me, listen to my prayer. Naught do I ask that Thou shouldst give to me, But, from the fullness of a breaking heart, I plead that Thou wilt take the misery From Philip s life, that he may lift his head Among his kind, nor feel a sense of shame. Father, I love him so! May sweet content Dwell ever with him, and grant that his name May lose the stain my mother s blood has wrought." Dick Posej Her voice was drowned in weeping for a spell, And I could see the look of agony Upon her face, as e en my own tears fell, I durst not move, lest I should startle her, But one false step and she would plunge to death I could but wonder why she chose such spot For her devotions then with gasping breath, I felt a cold fear clutch my leaping heart, And all my blood seemed to congeal within. Then, lifting up her face to Heaven, she sobbed; "Forgive Niona, if this be a sin." Light as an arrow from the hunter s bow, She plunged head downward into empty space. Tne giddy distance stretched its hungry arm And folded her in cruel, still embrace. Straight as a shatt she cut the stagnant air, It writhed and shrieked and whistled round her form ; Its restless fingers loosed her glorious hair And tossed it streaming backward like a shroud. There come strange moments in these lives of ouri, When we no longer sense the flight of time; When seconds lengthen into endless hours, And destinies are moulded in a breath. Such moments come to us in stress of soul, On that strange border line of life and death. Dick Poser Twas thus it seemed Niona checked her flight And hung transfixed and balanced in mid air. Twas then I knew I loved her that her life Was precious to my heart and dearer far Than Mother, Soul or hope of Heaven or wife Or child, that future years might hold for me. I struck the water just as Niona s form Plunged deep into its cold transparency. I m but a feeble swimmer, in my youth I scare could swim a hundred yards unspent, And there, the icy waters of the lake, Fed by the melting of the vast snow banks, sent Shafts of cold pain along each startled nerve. It seemed I held it naught that I should die, I knew I could not bear her to the shore, But by some power I could not fathom, I Held life as naught What difference if I found A resting place within that crystal lake? One moment s pain, and then forgetfulness; Then, very soon, my spirit would awake And, tossing the waves aside, take its flight To realms prepared for me, I know not where. I reached the spot where she had disappeared, And, treading water, I sustained me there, Though all the demons, born of Indian creed Seemed to unite their strength to pull me down. Dick Posey It seemed to me a torturing stretch of years I peered into the depths. At last there shone A paler radience twas Niona s form Coming to me with outstretched hands for aid. God! how I loved her not as man for wife, But with a passion that is fixed and staid Deep in the unknown chambers of the soul; A love that knows not time, content to wait Till, somehow, somewhere, earthly things have passed, Eternity unrolls the scroll of Fate, And love, untramelled, comes into its own. She broke the surface at my side as calm As though she sought but pleasure there alone. "Why did you come to me, my friend?" she asked, I gasped, "You must not die a suicide!" And then the waters with their icy hands Twisted and cramped my flesh until I cried Aloud in pain and writhed in agony, My muscles twisting into knots like steel, The demons of the lake had mastered me. And that my time was short, I could but feel. "Go back to Phil, his love will come to you, Good-bye!" I scarce had sunk when her firm hand Did drag me back, and soon with steady stroke She bore me, weak and helpless, to the land. Dick Posey We said but little little could be said. My blood reacted with a healthy glow And very soon I was myself again. Silently we climbed the rocky, steep ascent, Pausing at times to ease the constant strain Of o ertaxed muscles, our garments steaming From the heat within, till at length we stood Safely upon the brink of the abyss. We gazed a moment on the moonlit flood That had released us from its icy grip, While strange emotions cast their silent spell Upon us. Then she took my outstretched hand; "This night will lire through all eternity," She breathed, "I do not claim to understand The link that seems to bind us, each to each, But this I feel : so long as souls shall live, We shall dwell ever near, sustaining each With age-long friendship that we both shall giv." Next day we started on the homeward trail. We took a different route that led us down Rogue River, with its wild meanderings, Swollen by snow-fed streams, that sprang from frowm~ Ing mountain chasms, gorged with perpetual snows. We fought great salmon waist deep in the stream Dick Posey Till our poor horses groaned beneath the load. And ever as we wandered it did seem We found new beauties, richer than before. I ll ne er forget old Mount McLaughlin, grand, A perfect cone, crested with dazzling snow, Stern sentinel, o erlooking all the land, Nor Roxy Ann, of a more modest mien, Green robed and restful to the weary eye. We reached our home, tired and travel worn, And grasped its comforts with a grateful sigh. And then we whiled the lazy weeks away With rod and gun in hunter s paradise. And ever would we happen on strange sights, New wealth and beauty did constantly arise, Mineral springs, with gases deftly charged, Gushed from the earth with power to ease and heal Many of the infirmities of man. The mountains had entrancing tales to tell; For miles we traced the coast-line of a sea That once had beat high up their rocky sides. Prom Grizzly Peak to Roxy Ann did we Trace it by shells imbedded in the rocks. Dick Pose And though the way was rugged, yet it gave Full measure of reward for effort spent. We found the entrance in a vast ravine And pitching our camp we took well earned repose. Next day we entered. Twas a tomb-like scene. And beautiful beyond description. Far As our dim candles sent their rays, the walls Of purest marble glittered in the light, And tossed back myriad echoes to our calls. We clambered through scant fissures but to find Entrance to new wonders. Clear stalactites, Inverted cones, pendant from ceilings high, While from the floor arose great stalagmites, Gleaming like cut glass in the candle light. In one recess we found a table spread With gorgeous napery, spun from snowy white Threads of crystaled carbonates; and white swans Floating in crystal pools; and tubes of glass Which, at an artist s touch would send forth straing Sweet as the notes of sirens as they pass; And bedoirs furnished in rich draperies, To tempt the weary traveler to repose; A "Curiosity Shop" filled with toys And trinkets; the white lily and the rose Blooming in scentless beauty, side by side; And everywhere our candles flick ring rays Kindled rich flames of colors, magnified, Diffused, into bewildering hues and shades. Dick Posey And then, there was the waters ceaseless drip, Shaping forms and fancies with patient care, Nor note of time, while years, unheeded, slip On silent wings into the fading past; And then, the denseness of the quietude, With naught to break it but the crystal drop, Building, ever building, in solitude! We spent two days in this bewilderment Of marble caverns. With ladders improvised Prom slender saplings, and with our lariats We scaled high walls to find new wonders, prized For the great effort their attainment cost. We found it vain, even to estimate The vastness of the subterranean halls. I think that time will prove, they permeate The entire mountain with a tangled skein Of fissures, labyrinths and lofty domes, Mile upon mile of quaintest fairyland. In after years when eagerly man comes To probe the secrets that lie hidden there, With pick and powder he will drive his way Prom room to room, enlarging narrow halls. Bridging deep chasms until at length they lay, In all the mysteries of hoary age, Open to the world s inquiring gaze. A wondrous story written in the rockr Dick Posey We pitched our camp within another maze Of mountain wonders. Ashland Creek, with all Its many wanderings down a stately gorge. It springs from melting snows amid the tall Pine clad cliffs, and e en from the very crest Of old Mount Ashland, robed in dazzling white. Ne er in all my wanderings had I beheld A stream like that. Had I but words, I might Paint a pen picture that would faintly show Meager glimpses of varied beauty there. Step above step, thousands of cascades rise Tween grassy banks studded with flowers rare, The water whipped to foam in tumbling flight; And gray squirrels chattering on leafy boughs; The whirr of mountain quail from hidden nest; The chirp of robins and the call of grouse; And oftentimes it chanced a clumsy bear Took sudden fright and fled from hostile man; And deer, so plentiful and unafraid, They e en would almost feed from outstretched hand, . We chanced upon a cougar, red with blood Of spotted fawn the creature had just slain; And high above as on a ridge appeared A band of elk, marching in stately train Upon their beaten trail. And everywhere Sylvan retreats offered alluring shade, Tempting us to kindle our camp fires there. ******* * * I stood upon Mount Ashland s lofty crest, Niona at my side, to watch the sun Rise from its golden couch beyond the hillg. Dick Posey We saw the shadows lift, and one by one, The mountain peaks were tipped with liquid gold; The shades of night went racing to the west And all the higher places smiled to greet This daily miracle from out the east. First, Shasta rose, shaking night s sable robes Prom brawny shoulders, snowy crest held high, Shaping the outline of his giant bulk In silhouette against the streaming sky; Then the new born day in bouyant glee Caught old McLoughlin in its warm embrace And planted a kiss upon his glowing brow; And next old Baldy showed his pallid face From nightly vigils o er the "Marble Caves;" Then Grizzly, Roxy Ann and Pompadour Shouldered into riew; and then the valley Glowed in the splendor of the morning hour. It was a view well worth the arduous climb Through darkness up the steep and rocky trail. And stays impressed upon my memory Where loftier views in other climes but fail. Niona spoke: "I m glad I live, my friend, And, but for you, I should not now be here. Can you discern those rim rocks jutting out To right of old McLoughlin? It was there I tried to leap into forgetfulness. I do not feel that twould have been a sin, As twas for Philip s sake and not for mine, But, O, this life is sweet, if but to win Momenta like these from out our little span. But I was sorely tried that I should be Dick Pose.v Ever a shame and burden to his life. And, had I died, my friend, can you not see That, with his gold, Philip might e en return To her who rules his life and buy her love? And then at times I feared that I should lose Control of my weak self my heart might move In answer to an impulse, and the fear Was ever present and I trembled lest, Forgetting I had but the sister s part, I throw myself in passion on his breast. And so I thought twas best, but as I fell I saw you leap to rescue me, and then I must not let you lose your life for mine, And so I came back to my more than friend." "Niona, dear, I feel that you do know Philip and you are both most dear to me, I wish you both life s fullest meed of joy, And tis my fondest wish that you should be Wedded to each by all the sacred ties Of wife and husband; but, Niona, child, You must pay the price tis not hard to pay." She looked at me, her features glowing wild With new born hope. "Must pay the price," you say? You know that death for me holds no alarms, Could I but know his love for one brief breath, I d gladly die next moment in his arms. Dick Posey "But then, Niona, death is not the price," I answered, "I shall only ask that you Think less of him, a little more of self. Men are strange creatures, child, they often do Love but the more when they are loved the less. And if a wife would bind her husband by The strongest ties to her, she will not give Her every thought to him, nor will she die To prove her deep devotion and her love. These earthly loves of our not divine. We think tis love when perchance, tis but pride. And, while I have not mastered all the fine Twists and turns of human character, I Have seen how men appreciate a wife As she appears to others. If she dress In taste most exquisite, and shapes her life To social needs and life s proprieties, And wins much admiration and some hate, Her husband will compare her many charms With those of others, and will often rate His own salved pride as the profoundest love. "I trust you know me well enough to feel I would not stoop to idle flattery, So, to your sober judgment I appeal. Your charms of form and feature are above Those of the average woman; your carriage Is natural and full of unspoiled grace, While you have much advantage in your age; Your hair is amplo for the dressers art, And you have wit and buoyancy of mind, And you are glowing with abundant heUth. Dick Posey Now, given opportunity, I think you d find A way to master the small intricacies Of fashion and society s demands. And then your ample bank account would win You envied rank where nobler arts would fail, So listen to me, child, tis this I mean; That you and Philip should forsake these wilds And travel among strangers for a while. And you should study people and their ways, Their modes of dress, and each eccentric style, And all their little courtesies, and try To school yourself in all, so that you may Mingle with Philip s kind and be at ease. I trust to your good sense to find your way Among them, and to your true modesty And womanly virtue to profit much, And yet retain your honest self esteem. I know that Philip loves you, and that such Love as his, when it does appreciate You, and comparison reveals to all Your own true self, your unaffected charms, The scales from his blind eyes will one day fall. "I know the one who, for so many years, Has held his heart within her jeweled hand. I will not talk of her, but this I feel; If it but chanced that some day you should stand Beside her, after you had learned the ways Of her own kind, and you were richly clad In all the latest follies of the day, Her puny beauty would look pale and sad Beside you. You are fairer, far, than she. Dick Posey And should you mingle in the busy throng, But very few would even note a trace Of Indian blood within you, and so long As wealth and beauty are your portion here, Twould add but romance to your many charms. "Now as to Philip, it is for his good. You practice no deceit, but simply bring The worth of your true self within his view. I know him well, bis life is pure and clean, And when his love comes full and complete to you. Twill ever there abide till death shall come. And do not once forget, your are his wife And he your husband, and your duty stands To him, to drive a false love from his life And claim the heart which he will gladly give, And which is yours in honor and in right. I am your friend, and also Philip s friend; I do not urge you thus in thoughtless, light, Unripe words, but with all the keenest sense Of my derotion to you both, my friend." Long did we talk, weighing the matter well In all its subtle points, and in the end She promised, if Philip but deemed it best. And we did pledge to each that we would keep The secret tween us till our dying day. Dick Postvv That night I talked with Philip in the deep Quiet of our mountain camp, urging him To do his duty by Niona, to Remove her from the land where she had known So much of pain, where joy was but her due. That she should have her chance to win a way Among her father s people, and to see The world and try to make its ways her own. And twas not long before I knew that he Did see his duty to her, and his high Sense of honor did make his duty clear, And he consented, if it were her will. I tarried but a few days longer there, Then, with regret, I bade my friends farewell. I will not weary you in labored words With all the details of my journeyings Through lands whose mystic history affords Substance for volumes weightier than this. I threaded far into the somber shade Of redwood forests, wondrous to behold; I climbed old Shasta s slopes and proudly made My camp fire high in never melting snow; I spent some weeks in grand Yosemite, Drinking its marvels with a greedly thirst; I dropped into the valleys but to see Marvels of soil and wealth of spreading plain, While verywhere was rioting of flowers, Fruits adrip with luscious sweetness, gay birds, Shrieking their gladness to me, golden hours, Neath radient sky of endless summer! I often pitched my camp with brawny men Dick Posey Bearded and massive in efficient power, Pitting their strength against the great day, when Their eyes would see the yellow, gleaming hoard Within the palm of Fortune s outstretched hand. And I have answered to the magic spell With pick and shovel in the tempting sand, And I ve e en felt the reeling, drunken joy Of glowing nuggets in my itching palm. I stood one eve and watched the blood red sun, Robed in fleecy vapor trappings, and calm, Sink to repose beyond the Golden Gate. I ll ne er forget the scene. It seemed that God Stood at the portals of a continent, Watching the path that few as yet had trod, With hand most provident to wayward man, Spread open and palm downward o er the land, From which had dropped his richest earthly gifts, Ah, why will men forget to bless that Hand? Two glorious years passed by and one day found Me seated in my club in calm content. I found it good to tread the beaten paths Of old familiar ways, where I had spent My youth and early manhood, and to clasp The hand of half forgotten college maio And know that I was only half forgot. I spent much time in pondering of late O er Philip and Niona, conjuring up The many scenes through which we three had passed, Dick Posey Wondering how wayward Fate had dealt with them, And whether they had heeded me at last. I smiled to think that I, a bachelor, Should turn match-maker between man and wife, Stepping boldly "Where angels feared to tread," I, with ne er a romance in my life. As I thus mused alone, a messenger Placed a dainty note within my hand, And thus it read: "To my dear old friend, Jack: Just read of the wanderer s return, and, Fearing lest you might flit away again, I hasten to forestall you in the act. I thus command that you forthwith forsake Your musings, and your presence I exact This very night. A few congenial friends Will congregate beneath my humble roof To hold high jinks. My lord and master lends His voice in this request, vowing that he Gladly forgives those school day tragedies That you and I enacted long ago. And by the by, I know that it will please You much to learn that our old mutual friend And pal, Philip, will be here, big as life. And O, Jack, listen now, and hold your breath; He s found a wondrous creature for a wife! Picked her up somewhere out in the great West, And she s bewildering the hearts of men Tn giddy old New York. Perhaps twere best Not to expose you to her dazzling charms, Lest she inscribe you on her length ning scroll Dick Posey Of conquests, but you ll know that she s Phil s wife, And may the Lord have mercy on your soul! Will look for you promptly at nine. Irene." With fevered haste I leaped into a cab And rushed to my apartments. Such a scene Had ne er before disturbed the stately calm Of poor old Sam. I ordered him about With lordly tyranny and tempting bribes, And in a moment we were tumbling out Relics of by-gone times when I had donned The gay accoutrements of beau ideal, Nor recked their ancient cut and moth ball see f While in anticipation I did feel The wine of social contact in each vein. Promptly at nine Irene s smile greeted me, In cordial welcome to her home. Her reign In social realms was undisputed, and "Flower of beauty and chivalry were there." I readily gained her consent to seek Concealment behind a flowery screen where I could see and seeing, not be observed. The form and face of some familiar friend Greeted my eyes where e er I bent my gaze, And it was good to feel my stirred heart send A glow of friendly warmth through nerve and brain, While Memory unrolled with lightning hand Her scroll, leading me back to earlier scenes again. Dick Posey There Philip stood in his gigantic strength And manly vigor, prince among his kind, Greeting his old time friends with firm hand claip And cordial courtesy. Twas good to find Him in my eyes, and to discern that he Was mingling with his friends in glad content. I saw him pause and bend above the chair Of her who once had ruled his heart, and sent Him from her life with scare a thought or care. And closely did I watch for trace of pain Upon his features, but he stood at ease, Giving courteous heed to some inane Speech springing from the shallowness of her. And then I saw him straighten, and his eyes Turn from her and, watching, I saw his face Soften and glow as if in glad surprise, And following his gaze, I there beheld Niona. She had but caught Philip s smile And look of adoration, big with pride, And gladly did her sweet soul answer, while, Making excuse to those around, she arose And moved toward her husband. She wore the grace Of stately pines bowing to gentle kiss Of summer breeze, while stamped upon her face Was the enraptured look I oft did note The while she gazed upon some master scene Of God s own handiwork. I caught my breath In admiration of her. In fancy e en I saw her back among the hills and vales Of th gwaet Valley of the Rogue, where they Dick Poaey Had sunk their bigness deep within her soul. And now her glorious form in rich array Was very pleasing to the eyes of men. Her rounded bosom, answering to the sway Of deep emotions, lifted its weight of pearlg Gleaming in tangled rays of fires within, Her eyes, bright as the stars of western night, And my glad heart breathing her beauty in. She turned her face direct toward my retreat, And e en as if in answer to her call, I went to her. At first she stood transfixed In wonder at my presence, and then all That we had been to each swept over us And I did take hor outstretched hands in mine. "My more than friend," she breathed, "I m happy, Jack. I saw her lips a-tremble and a tear did shine Upon her lashes, and then dear old Phil Descended swift upon me, and we three Forgot all else around us for a spell. Then others came and struck glad hands with me, And happily the evening hours passed by. Philip and I were standing side by side When I did note that, all unconsciously, Niona stood beside that other one. I could but smile that my poor dream should b Thus fully realized. The swift intake Of Philip s breath did clearly prove to me That he beheld the contrast tween the two. "Look," he whispered, "never before hare I Dick Posey Seen earthly beauty that will equal her. And, friend of mine, there is no need to try To tell you of a husband s love and pride In such a woman as Niona there." "And how about the one beside her, Phil? Time was when I suspected you might care . , "Blind was I, Jack, stone blind and deaf and dumb! When Heaven s gates stood open wide for me, I saw them not; and when the angels sang And beckoned me to enter and be free, I heard them not. Tis true I know not why." I felt my friend s big hand within my arm And read his cordial meaning in his eye; "Come, Jack, I want you to myself awhile." He drew me out and up a winding stair Into a dim lit chamber. With a smile He led me to a canopied retreat, And there in silken nest a baby lay, Sweet as an angel in his innocence. I looked in Philip s face and knew that they, Husband and wife were bound eternally, Not only by their honor and their love, But that the fingers of their first born held Their spirits, "Twain as one." I heard a sob, And there Niona stood, and I did see A. tear drop on her snowy bosom fall, That paled the radiance of the Jewels there, And peace cams down and sweetly dwelt with all. THE END. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. m L9-100m-9, 52(A3105)444 JPS 3505 Cl555d Campbell - A daughter of the Rogues A 000 925 847 6 PS 3505 C1555d