sr
T1IE SUNDAY OKEGOXXAX. rORTLAXD, XOTE3IBER 12. 1016.
RICH SENTIMENT AND GOOD ODGIC IN OLD POETRY THIS WEEK
Scrapbooks of Five Decades Ago Give Up Some More Old Favorites-i-Requested Rhymes Are Coining In and Will Be Printed Soon. -
MUSTY scrap books, some 40 and
50 years old, have given up
some choice old favorite poetry
for this week, and The Oregonian is
especially gratified at being able to
reprint several genuinely good poems
that have been repeatedly requested.
There may be some who are impa
tient, or discouraged at not seeing re
printed to date several poems that
have been requested, but some of these
will appear in a short time. They are
now in The Oregonian office and will
be edited and set forth soon. In the
page of poetry today may be found not
only grand sentiment but a wealth of
logio finely expressed.
The Oregonian is indebted to several
readers for the following copy of "Tom
Twist," by W. A. Butler, ' which has
been repeatedly requested:
TOM TWIST.
BY W. A. BUTLER.
Tom Twist was a wonderful fellow.
No boy was so nimble and strong;
He could turn ten somersaults back
ward.
And stand on his head all day long.
Ko running, or leaping, or Jumping,
This tough little urchin could tire;
His muscles were all gutta-percha.
His sinews were bundles of wire.
Tom Twist liked the llfe'of a sailor.
So off with a hop and a skip
He went, to a Nantucket captain.
Who took him on ffoard of his ship.
The vessel was crowded with seamen.
Young, old, sh,ort and stout, slim and
tan.
But In running, and Jumping, and leap
ing, Tom Twist was ahead df them all.
He could scamper all through the""rig
ging, . '.,
As spry and as still as a cat.
And as for a leap from the maintop
To deck, e thouht nothing of that;
He could dance on the end of the yard
arm, ,
Sleep sound in the bend of a sail.
And hang by his feet from the bow
sprit "When the wind was blowing a gale.
The ship went down in a tempest,
A thousand fathoms or more.
But Tommy dived under the breakers
And. swimming five miles, reached
the shore.
The shore was a cannibal Island,
The natives were hungry enough;
They felt poor Tommy all over.
And found him entirely too tough.
They put him into a boy-coop.
Just to fatten him up, you see.
But Tommy crept out very slyly.
And climbed to the top of a tree.
The tree was the nest of a condor,
A bird with prodigious big wings,
Who lived upon boa-constrictors
And other digestible things. .
She soon woke him up with her peck
ing. But Tommy gave one of his springs.
And lit on the back of the condor.
Between the long neck and her wings.
The condor tried pitching and plunging.
But Tommy held on with firm hand.
Then off with a scream flew the condor.
O'er forest and ocean and land.
By-and-by, growing tired of his burden
And flying- quite close to the ground,
Tom untwisted his leg from the crea
ture. And quickly slid off with a bound.
He landed all right and feet foremost,
A little confused by his fall.
And then ascertained he had lighted
On top of the great Chinese wall!
He walked to the city of Pekin,
Where he made the Chinamen grin.
He turned ten somersaults backward.
And they made him a mandarin.
Then Tom had to play the celestial.
And dangle a long pig-tail;
He dined on puppies and kittens
Till his spirits began to faiL
He sighed for his native country.
He longed for its ham and eggs.
For In turning those somersaults back
ward Tils pig-tall would catch In his legs.
He sailed for his dear home and harr.
The house of his mother he knew;
He climbed up the lightning-rod
quickly.
And came down through the chimney
flue.
His mother In slumber lay dreaming
That she never would see -h'lm more:
Then she opened her eyes and Tommy
Stood there on the bedroom floor: .
TTer nightcap flew off In amazement.
Her hair stood on end In surprise;
- "What kind or a ghost, or & spirit
Is this, that I see with my eyes?"'
T am your most dutiful Tommy."
'I will not believe, it." she said.
Till yoti turn ten somersaults back
ward, ...
' And stand half an hour on your
head."
"That thing I will do. dearest mother!"
And at once, with a skin and a hon.
He turned ten summersaults backward.
And then was unable to stop.
, f
His tenth took him out of the window.
His mother Jumped up from her bed
To see his twentieth summersault
Take him over the kitchen shed.
And over the patch of potatoes.
And beyond the church on the hill,
Tnrninsr and tumbling and twls'ting
And twisting and tumbling still.
Till Tommy's body diminished
Tn size, to the head of a pin.
Spinning away in the distance.
Where it still continues to spin.
HOME, SWEET HOME.
'Mid pleasures and palaces though we
may roam.
Be it ever so humble, there's no place
like home:
A charm from the skies seems to hal
low us there.
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er
met with elsewhere.
. CHORUS.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home.
Be it ever so humble, there's no place
like home.
I gaze on the moon, as I trace the
drear wild.
And feel that my parent now thinks
of her child;
She looks on that moon from our own
cottage door.
Through . woodbines whose fragrance
shall cheer me no more.
An exile from home, splendor dazzles In
vain:
Oh,' give me my lowly thatched cottage
again:
The birds singing gaily that came at
, my call:
Give these, with sweet peace-of mind
dearer than all.
If I return home overburdened with
care.
The heart's dearest solace I'm sure to
meet there:
The bliss I experience " whenever I
come.
Slakes no other place seem like that of
sweet borne.'
Farewell, peaceful cottage! . Farewell.
happy home!
Forever I'm doomed a poor exile to
roam;- . .
This poor aching heart must be laid in
the tomb -
Ere it cease to regret the endearments
of home. John Howard Payne.
in
Mrs. W. A. Luce has contributed 'The
September Gale" and "October's Bright
Blue Weather," which were requested
recently. There is a break between the
sixth and last verse.
THE SEPTEMBER GALE,
I'm not a chicken: I have -seen
Full many a chill September,
And though I was a youngster then.
That gale I well remember.
The day before my kite string snapped.
Ana i, my kite pursuing.
The wind whisked off my palm-leaf
nat
Tor me two storms were brewing!
It came, as quarrels sometimes do.
When married pairs get .clashing;
There was a heavy sigh "or two,
Before the fire was flashing:
A little stir among the clouds.
Before they rent asunder; :
A little rocking of the trees, .
And then came on the thunder. 1-'
Oh, how the ponds and rivers boiled.
And how the snlngles rattled:
And oaks were scattered on the ground,
' As if the'Titans battled;
And all above was in a howl 'j
And all below a clatter
The earth was like a frying pan, - '
Or some such hissing matter.
It chanced to be our washing day.
And all our things were drying;
The storm came roaring through the
lines,
And set thorn all a-flying.
I saw the shirts and petticoats
Go riding off like witches;
I lost, ah! bitterly I wept
I lost my. Sunday breeches!
I saw them straddling through the air,
Alas! too late to win them;
I saw them chase the clouds as If
A demon had been in them.
They were my- darlings and my pride.
My boyhood's only riches;
"Farewell, farewell," I faintly cried,
"My breeches! Oh, my breeches!"
That night I saw them in my dreams
How' changed from what I knew
them!
The dews had steeped their faded
- thread,
The winds had . whistled through
them;
I saw the wide and ghastly rents
Where demon claws had torn tnem.
A hole was in their amplest part.
Aslf an imp had worn them.
I have had many happy years.
And tailors kind and clever.
But those young pantaloons have gone
Forever antl forever!
And not till fate has cut the last
Of all my earthly stitches.
This aching heart shall cease to mour
My loved, my long-lost Dreecnes:
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
Mrs. H. H. Smith. 227 East Fortieth
street, has sent in two poems that are
nnrtinular favorites of hers. The one
entitled "When I Was Young" is taken
from an old scrapbook, pasted tnere
over 40 years ago, and some 30 years
b.so or more was recited- at ainereni
times at public entertainments by her
daughter, and always egreatly appre
ciated. In 1879 in Eureka, Cal., after
the piece had been recited, one of the
leading papers there, in an article com
menting on same, indorsed the senti
ments expressed therein, declaring it
not only the best rendered, but the
most meritorious selections ever given
there before an audience. They follow:
WHEX I WAS YOl'XC,
Or What the Old .Woman Said to Her
Daughter.
One Summer eve" I chanced to pass
where by her cottage gate.
An aged woman, in the sun. sat talking
to her mate.
The frost of age was on her-brow, yet
arrulous was her tongue.
As she compared the "doings now" with
those when she was young.
"When I was young, young gals were
, . meek and looked round kind of
shy.
And when they were compell'd to speak.
they did so modestly:
They staid at home, and did the work;
made Indian bread and wheaten.
And only went to "singing school" and
sometimes to night mectin". m
And children were obedient then, they
had no saucy airs.
But minded what their parents said.
and learn'd to say their prayers.
But nowadays they Tcnow enough be
fore they know their letters.
And young ones that can hardly walk
will contradict their betters.
Young women now go flirting round
and looking out for beaux.
And scarcely one in ten is found who
makes or mends her clothes.
But there! I tell my daughter, '
Folks don't do as they -oughter.
They had not oughter do as they do
Why don't they do as they oughter?"
"When I was young, if a man had failed,
he shut up house, and hall.
And never ventured out till night. If he
ventured out at all.
His wife sold all her shiney plates, and
his son came home from college.
And his gals left school, and learn'd to
wash and bake, and such like
knowledge.
They gave up cakes and pumpkin pies,
and had the nlainest eatim?:
They never asked folks home "to tea,'
and seldom went to meeting.
The man that was "bankrupt' called was
kind Of shunned by men. .
And hardly dared to show hfs head
among his townfolks then.
But nowadays, when a merchant falls,
they say he makes a pena-y;
His wife don't have a gown the less,
and his daughters just as many.
His sons they smoke their choice
cegars, and drink their costly
wine.
His wife goes to the opefa and he has
folks to dine!
He walks the streets, he drives his gig,
men show him all civilities.
And what in my days were called
debts.' are now called liabilities.'
They call the man 'unfortunate' now
who ruins half the city
In my days 'twas his creditors to whom
we gave the pity.
But there! I tell my daughter.
Folks don't do as they'd oughter:
They had not oughter do as they do,
, Why don't they do as they'd oughter?
'.'When I was young, crime was crime
it had no other name.
And when 'twas proved against a man.
he had to bear the blame.
They called the man that stole a thief:
they wasted no fine feeling.
What folks call 'petty larceny' now. In
my day they called stealing.
They did not make a reprobate the
theme of song and story.
As if the bloodier were his hands, the
hrlarhter was bis firlorv.
No! when a murder had been done.
could they the murderer find, -
They hung him as they would a crow
a terror to nis Kind:
But nowadays, it seems to me, when'
ever blood Is spilt.
The murderer has sympathy propor
tioned to his guilt.
And when the law has proved a man to
be a second Cain,
A dosen jurors will be found to bring
him in 'insane.'
And then petitions will be signed, and
texts of scripture twisted.
Until the man who's proved to be as
bloodthirsty as Nero.
Will walk abroad like other men only
a greater hero! :--But
there! I tell my daughter.
Folks don't do as they'd oughter.
They had not oughter do as they do
Oh, why don't they do as they'd
oughter?"
' (Author Unknown.)
Mrs. H. E. Morrow, of Kent, Or., has
contributed the "Battle of RegiUus.'
and she also was on of the contribu
tors of "Tom Twist." X
TUB BATTLE OK LAKE RKOILLIS.
Right glad were all the Roman
Who. in that hour of dread.
f-Against great odds bor up the war'
Around Valerius dead.
When from the couth the cheering
' Rose with a, mighty swell
I "Herminius comes! Hermintus,
Who kept the bridge so well!"
Mamilius spied Herminius,
And dashed across the way,
"Herminius! I have sought thee
Through many a bloody -day.
One o ua two, Herminius.
Shall never more go home.
I will lay cm for Tuscalum,
And lay thou on for Rome."
All round them paused the battle
While met in mortal fray
The Roman and the Tusclan,
The horses black and gray.
Herminius .smote Mamilius
Thru- breastplate and thru breast.
And fast flowed out the purple blood
Oyer the purple vest.
Mamilius smote Herminius
Thru headpiece and thru head.
And, side by side, those chiefs of pride
Together fell, down ' dead.
Down fell they dead together
In a great lake of . gore.
As still stood all who saw them fall
While men might count a score.
Fast, fast, with heels wild spurning, "
The dark gray charger fled.
He burst thru ranks of fighting men, ,
He sprang o'er heaps of dead.
His bridle far outstreaming.
His flanks all blood and foam;
He sought the southern mountains.
The mountains of his home.
The pass was steep and rugged.
The wolves they howled and whined.
But he ran like a whirlwind up the
pass -
v And left the wolves behind.
Thru many -a startled hamlet
Thundered his flying feet.
He rushed thru'-the gate, of Tusculum,
He rushed up the iong white street;
He rushed by tower and temple,
And paused not lnf his race
Till he stood before his master' door
Ir the stately market place. .
And straightway round him gathered
A pale and trembling crowd;
And when they knew him cries of rage
Brake- forth, and walllne- loud:
(And women rent their tresses
jfAf For their great Prince's fail.
Ana old men girt on their old swords
And went to man the wall.
GRANDFATHER'S CLOCK.
X Y Z. Of Portland, haa finn(,(hiit
the following:
GRANDFATHER'S rl.nrK .
My grandfather's clock was too large
tor me sneir.
So it stood ninelv C.nr, nn v. n
It was taller by half than the old man
- nimseii,
Though it weighed not & pennyweight
more :
It, was beught on the morn of the day
uiai ue was oorn.
And was always his treasure and
pride:
But it stopped short never to go
, again
When the old man died.
Chorus.
Ninety years without slumbering tiak,
tick, tick, tick.
His life seconds . numbering tick,
tick. tick. tick. .
It stopped short never to go again
When the old man died.
In watching Jts pendulum swinging to
and fro, .....
Many hours had h spent while a boy.
And in childhoel...and manhood the
clock seemed to know
And to share both his grief and his
joy; . .
For it struck twenty-four when he en
tered the door
With a blooming and beautiful bride,
Bjit it stopped short never to go
' again
'When the old man died.
My grandfather said that those he
cuuHi nire,
Not a servant so faithful he found.
For It wasted no time and had but one
desire
At the ' close of each week to- be
wound.
It was kept in Its place not a frown
on its face.
And its hanrin neve., him 1. . . I , n-
-- ' J .IB DllltS,
But it stopped short never to go
again
When the old man died.
It rang an. alarm In the dead of the
night
An alarm that for years had been
- dumb
And we knew that his spirit was plum
ing for flight
That his hour of departure had come.
Still the clock kept time with a soft
and muffled ahime.
As we silently stood by his side.
But It stopped short never to go
again
When -the old man died.
- MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND. .
(Requested.)
The traitor's foot is on thy soil. Mary
land, my Maryland!
Let not his touch thy honor spoil, Mary
land, My Maryland!
Wipe out the unpatriotic gore tha;
fleck'd the streets of Baltimore.
And be the loyal state of yore, "Mary
land, my Maryland!
Dear mother, be thyself again, Mary-
land, my Maryland!
The Union shall not call in vain, Mary
land, my Maryland!
She wants to meet you in the fleld. our
country's flag and laws to shield.
We never can to treason yield, Mary
land, my Maryland!
Thou wilt not yield the rebel toll. Mary
land, my Maryland!
Thou wilt not bend to his control.
Maryland, my Maryland!
Better the fire upon the roll, better the
blade, the shot, the bowl.
Than -degradation of the soul. Mary
land, my Maryland!
Hark to a wandering son's appeal,
Maryland, my Maryland!
My mother state, to thee I kneel.
Maryland. myJVIaryland!
For liberty and truth and right, let all
your loyal sons unite.
Drive all Invaders from thy sight.
Maryland, my Maryland!
I see the blush "upon thy cheek, Mary
- land, my Maryland!
But thou wert ever bravely meek,
Maryland, my Maryland!
Ar!a and heed thy slater's cry, let
every hand and heart comply.
And burst the chains of tyranny, Mary
lurid, my Maryland!
I hear the distant canndns roar, Mary
land, my Maryland!
The fife and drum ot Baltimore, Mary
. Band, my Maryland!
Hunza! she comes to help restore the
Union as it was before.
And honor be thou evermore, -Maryland,
my Maryland I
This selection was found among some
old papers, poorly written and badly
faded. As I never saw it in- print, nor
can I find anyone who ever heard of
the piece, I ajn hoping you will print 11,
and, perhaps, some one of your readers
can furnish, the author's nam"
v . MRS. T. O. HAVEN.
Roseburg, Or. .
. THE JOIR.VEV, . -I.
In a land by men forgotten.
Was a vale in Springtime green.
Overlooked by lofty mountains.
Shining In their summery sheen.
On fairer earth no heaven smiled.
In days when God with mortals whiled.
In its midst a" winding river
Flowed and sang by wood and glen:
Along a pathway winding with it.
Trodden e'er since wandered men;
And silver-bright among the green -,
Shone forth the .crystal water sheen.
High upon the trackless mountains.
In the rain clouds it began.
Leaping, dashing down the mountains,
Rippling on, the river ran,
And laughed while sang the birds
above, '
On drooping bough, in Joy and love.
Gazed a traveler o'er the valley, -
From the'bank beneath the bowers;
Walking down upon the pathway.
In the rosy morning hours.
When the soft splendor of the skies
Fell on his smiling, youthful eyes.
But he stood not e(ill to tarry
In the balmy morn of May; '
Onward lured him greater beauty v
Than the flowers on his way:
To distant shores .tils steps were bound
To seek what mortals never found.
Lo? appeared a slender maiden
Where the stream in eddies flowed.
And the spray of falling water
All the rainbow colors showed. "
She gathered flowers on the brink.
Some red, some blue, some gold, and
pink.
Rosy cheeks and auburn tresses.
Smiling lips the maiden had:
And she gaseH upon the stranger.
Her blue eyes with welcome glad.
She said. "Oh, wanderer, be my guest!"
And pinned a flower upon his breast.
"See the blossoms, fair and fragrant.
And the birds of every7 hue:
See the daisies on the greensward
And the skies of azure blue.
Oh. tarry, taste of this delight.
Ere Spring and bloom are .taking
flight."
"Maiden," said he, 'thou' are lovelier
Than the blossoms In. this vale;
Sweeter than the dancing fairies.
In an olden fairy tale.
A passer-by this morn I came.
But ere I go tell me thy name."
Saddened looked the rosy maiden, .
In the stranger's eyes awhile.
Wounded pride her bosom swelling.
On her lips a fleeting smile.
"My name Is Beauty," she replied.
And quickly turned she from his side.
H.'
Onward, down .the deeper river.
Entered he another vale.
Where the waters murmured softly
As the elfins tell a tale;
Where on the boughs, thebanks along
Sang gladder birds a sweeter song.
Laden bees were sipping nectar.
On the fragrance breathing flowers.
Summer zephyrs whispered softly
In the broad-leaved pendant "bowers.
While seemed to sing the calmer
stream,
"Sit on my brink to rest and dream."
) .
Wafted on. the balmy breezes.
Came a song so fulh and sweet.
That he listened, looked, and wondered.
Where he might the songstress meet.
Who so tfull-volced from deepest heart.
Could make his own, enrapt, upstart. -
All the passion and the longing
In the flowing notes expressed.
Touched a chord that -ne'er had thrilled
him,
Deep within his throbbing breast.
Upon the brink with roses fair.
He saw her braid her golden hair.
Looking on her smilin image.
'Neath the waters' placid flow.
She could see the stranger's image
Near her own, like hers, aglow.
And up she rose with tripping feet
So she might the traveler greet.
All that gave her song Its beauty
Saw he - In her eyes agleam
That held fast his feet before her.
For she seemed a wondrous dream.
While smiled her lips In rapt surprise,
And each looked in the others eyes.
Hers of sudden drooped as dazzled
Or their Inmost depths to hide.
But she followed, scarce resisting.
As he drew her to his side.
Together down the path they went,
Amid the roses sweet with scent.
'And the highest bliss that mortal
On this earth can hold and share.
Sweetest music of two harp strings
Thrilled in one enchanted pair
Till sank the high tide of Its power
And the first glow had left the flower.
Then she said: "Here ends my valley;
O'er its bounds I cannot go.
Fere the well upon thy Jourrtey
Where the broader waters flow.
My valley pass all earth-born men.
But none shall e'er come back again."
"If without thee. then. I must wander,"
Murmured he In accents soft.
"Tell me by what nam thou goest.
That I may repeat it'oft."
"My name is Love," she quickly said.
And, turning back, away she fled.
III.
Slowly flowed the silver river
Through an Autumn-tinted field
Wherein the corn was ripe and golden.
Waving with abundant yield.
And harvest songs of mirth and cheer
Fell on the silent traveler's ear.
Fruits of red and gold and purple
Hung on lowly bending bough.
And herds upon the spicy olover
Saw he on the hillside browse.
Sweet scents were floating on the
breeze
That stirred the laden orchard trees.
Lo. who walks upon the pathway.
Autumn flowers, in her hair.
And from her hand a basket pending.
Filled with fruitage rich and rare.
Her eye so kind, her cheek so browned.
In woman's ripeness full and round.
And she sang in ditty measure
Of the season's brimming Joys;
Sang of the reapers' work and pleasure.
And of sweetness ere It cloys.
Of vintage and the bubbling wine,
A heaven's boon in life's decline.
"Tarry stranger," she Invited.
"Heavy seem thy wandering feet.
The mid-day shade Is cool and grateful
And the fruits are ripe and sweet." -"Thy
words and face are kind." he said.
And followed In the way she led.
t
And a feast she spread before him;
Plucked for him in purple glow.
The sweetest of the valley's bounties.
Like her own heart's overflow.
And from the crystal waters' brink
She brought him cool, refreshing drink.
While her charmful rippling laughter,
With the Joy of harvest flowed:
Her dimpled check that smiled con
tentment. With its crimson fullness glowed. '
And soft and hazy looked her eyes.
So like the mellow Autumn skies.
Gaily spoke he ot his Journey.
Fairer than an elfin dream. ""
Of beauty reigning in her valley.
And of love on earth supreme.
Till drowsed he where the shades were
deep.
And she lulled him with song to. sleep.
The dreary earth, the gloomy heavens.
Saddened him, oppressed his soul;
Befotfi his spirit's failing vision .
Faded nigh the luring goal:
To reach It seemed beyond his power.
For fainter grew he every hour.
When In the pitfalls of the pathway.
With pain Jits footsteps failed.
He saw; or Memed to see, a vision
Gliding Jhtear. all darkly veiled;
But when he rose with wounded pride.
The vision vanished from his side.
Anon he sank, exhausted, helpless.
And again she glided close,
Removed her veil, extended mercy.
Till, with strength renewed, he rose:
Her cheek looked pale; her eyes were
sad," '
And all her form In mourning clad.
"Sweet , vision' said the traveler,
calmly,
"Mystery enfoldeth thee.
When beauty, love and goodness tar
ried - "
On my way and smiled on me.
My form was fair and blithe my heart,
I gave of Joy an equal par. .
"But thou hast come to "raise and succor.
Ready my distress to share,
When neither sweetness, smile and
promise
May repay thee for thy care;
Men give and take of mutual cheer.
But thou givest manna for a. tear.
"Thou wert not where a rosy" pathway
Led my steps through fairyland, '
Nor where the sweets for heart and
palate
Were bestowed by lavish hand.
But givest where the suffering cry.
The light of heaven In thine eye.
"Nay. such Is not the human spirit.
That would shun another's woe.
Thine never was by mortal written
In men's lawbook here below:
Thy home Is not upon this- earth; -Tell
me, what realm has given you
birth?"
Again she veiled her pallid visage.
And drew closer to his side,
"My kin," said she. "are they who
suffer, ,
My abode Is where they bide:
I come In woe, for I am Pity.
Whose birthplace is the heavenly city."
V.
Now went the traveler onward, slowly.
Like the river's slackened flow.
As It approached a misty ocean
In the evening's waning glow:
Around him lay a gray-hued plain.
That faded in a skyless main. ,
The solitude unvaried, silent.
Filled his heart with dire dismay.
Until he heard a matron near him
Asking: "Whither leads thy way?"
"To yonder misty goal." said he.
Beside the waveless. silent sea.
"The goal." she said, "by yonder ocean.
Is a tombstone on a mound.
Where wait the ghosts of countless
travelers.
For the others thither bound." -She
gave a smile that was not glad.
Her face was aged, but not sad.
She firmly stepped with -constant cau
tion, Smiling on each desert flower.
And gazing on the chanceful heavens.
Hung her cloak with wind and
shower;
Her eyes were keen and deep and clear.
And seemed to pierce the far and near.
To her his bosom he unburdened;
Told her of his sinful past.
"Oh, friend!" she said. In mournful
murmur,
"Thou hast Journeyed all too fast.
For those who go In fever haste
Come all too soon upon this waste.
"Where swiftly ran the river's current.
In its youthful natural speed.
Thou didst outstrip it in thy folly.
Taking neither rest nor heed;
Youth has. Its healthful, happy run.
But thou hast speeding overdone.
"The happiness to life allotted.
Comes unbidden, comes unsought; -It
is a song with gentle measure.
Overjoys are dearly bought.
But they who have not known excess.
Lean on the side of happiness."
"Oh, had I met thee." said the traveler,
"In the rosy' morn of May,
I should have, lingered on my pathway.
When my life was song and play:
And lengthened all Its pleasant hours
Among its fragrant Summer flowers.''
"Full well I know thy name Is Wisdom,
But thou comest all too late.
That I may profit by thy precepts.
Such is mortals' common fate."
"Now, come with me." she smiling said.
"The evening has. like morn. Its red."
And on he wandered by her guidance,
Wandered peaceful, calm and slow.
And smiled upon the brightened tomb
stone. Tn tile sunset's afterglow.
No song he heard no sunlight beamed.
And hungry vultures floating screamed."
The following clipping is received
from Miss Fay Shaw, of Coquille:
SOMETHING .SWEET TO THINK OK.
Something swet to think of in this
world of care
Though dear friends have left us they
bright gprrits are.
Something sweet to dream of, hark the
angels say i
Call us not back again, we're with you
every day.
With you. in the twilight, with you In
the "morn.
With you in the sunlight, with you all
day long.
With you ever, ever more, hark! the
angels say ,
Call us not back again, we're with you
every day.
Something sweet to think of. a dear
mother's love;
'Twaa a priceless treasure round my
heart she wove.
How I long to ee her, but the angels
say
Call her not back again, he' with you
every day.
Blessed sainted mother. I can see her
now.
As In days of childhood when ehe
kissed my row.
'Tls my sweetest, dearest Joy when the
angels say
Call her not back again, she'a with you
every day.
Something sweet to think of, loved one
gone before;
Bright and Joyous' spirits round u
evermore.
They are singing sweetly with the
angels' lay;
Call us not back again, we're with you
every day.
Wander not in darkness, for we give
you light
That will make you happy. through both
day and night;
'Tls a blessing to you all when the
angels say
Call us not back again, we're with you
every day.
"The BalUl of Lady Jano". has been
sent In by Mrs. R. H, Louttit, of Port
land. THE BALLAD OF I.ADT JANE.
"Come busk thee las. the hour is nigh.
The bridal hour. I ween.
When thou must wed Sir Ellcrslie,
The bravest knight e'er seen."
"I will not wed. though he may woo,"
The daughter made reply:
"Until my own true love return,
A simple maid am I."
"Come, busk thee, lass, thy love Is false.
And ne'er return shall he:
Thy father bids thee wefl this night
The brave Sir Ellerslie."
"Now. father, do not cruel be.
Unto thy daughter dear.
For certainly I may not wed
Until my love appear."
The baron stamped with iron foot
Upon the oaken floor;
He curs'd her love in Palestine.
And curs'd bis daughter more.
"Don't dare presume to rule thy sire?
Base child. I say to the
This night thou dost become the bride
Of brave Sir Ellerslie"'
Sweet Lady Jane turn'd sad away.
And shed a silent tear.
Her love was far Across the sea.
And succor none was near.
Run. run. dark river, to the sea.
And In Its bosom hide!
This night a woeful maiden seeks
The shelter ot thy tide.
She stands upon the river bank
Where often she had strayed.
A happy lover at her side.
And she "a happy maid.
The night Is dark, the river deep.
But nought of fear hath she:
"Farewell, my father dear," she cries.
Who could so cruel be!
"Farewell, farewell, my sweetheart dear.
So far. so far away
Would that thou had'st beside thy love
Resolved but to stay!"
The air is laden with the scent
Of thyme and rosemarle,
And little birds within their nests
Are sleeping peacefully.
But all alone, upon the bank.
There stands a figure white
Accursed be that flowing tide.
Accursed be that night!
She leaps Into the gurgling stream
Without a sob or f igh
Oh. tender must that maiden be.
Who can but love or die!
Now, faithful collie, 'tis thy time.
To show a noble breed
Thy mistress dear in yonder stream
Of thee bath surely need!
He springs he seizes In his mouth.
Those locks of flowing gold.
And to the river bank doth bring
His mistress wet and cold.
"Now hast thou done a cruel thing.
For very love of me!
Would thou had'st left me. In yon
stream
To perish utterly!
"For what can'st thou, my collie, know
Of anguish or distress?
See'st thou the llgits in yonder hall,
. And can'st their meaning guess?
"They watt their bride, thy mistress
dear.
And would her life enchain
To one who hath less love than thou
Who saved'st me In vain.
"Down, down, I prithee, faithful friend.
And to thy couch repair;
TJny mistress hath such grief of heart
As thou can'st never share."
6h. Is It ghost, or mist, or dream.
Or vision of the night!
Hath It fit substance for the form
That hath that face so white?
For hinds are gathered round the
hearth.
The day's dull labor's done.
While song and Jest move swiftly round.
And merry is each one.
But list! "Dldithear that at the door?"
Each listener holds his breath.
But save the moaning-of the wind.
'Tls all as still as death.
"There 'tls again hea'rd'st not that
sound?"
And to the cottage door
All eyes are turned with gaze of dread.
And, gazing, dread the more.
The clock ticks loudly on the wall.
The bird stirs in its cage.
The embers from the fireplace fall.
Each moment seems an age.
Then see! the handle of the door
Is slowly turned round.
The door in gently opened.
Without the faintest sound.
What thing- Is this, that makes each
hind
Ills manliness forget?
A dog is thrust Into the room.
All shivering and wet!
A dog that whtneth to escape.
While one soft lily hand
Doth gently push him aback again.
With silent, sure command.
Then, dreadful sight! while hearts
stand still.
A pale and ghastly face.
From which the water drlppeth down.
Doth meet their stonled gaze!
'Tls gone! the door Is softly closed:
'Twere sure a -lson vain
But for this trembling collie dog
Of our sweet Lady Jane!
"Ho! rouse, ye vassals curs'd and slow!
And seek the Lady Jane!
To him who our dear daughter finds
Shall be this golden chain!
"Quick to our horse. Sir Ellerslie!
Toaether forth we'll ride
'Tls I to seek an only child.
And thou a promised bride!"
They moTlnt. they ride In haste away.
But not a word speak they.
The father curs'd In his heart
The words he spake that day.
And what 1s this, all dripping white.
Upborne upon a bier?
The father ntterth never a word.
Yet 'tls his daughter dear.
His daurhter and his darling child.
And who so fair ae she!
The father turns his head away.
But not a tear sheds he.
Run. run. dark river, to the sea.
And In Its bosom hide.
What la a father's grief to thee.
And what a promised bride?
For 'twas a maid who lived to love.
And for her love did sigh:
Oh. tender was that heart Indeed
That could but love or die!
HENRY DRYERRF.
WHY THE DOG'S NOSE IS ALWAYS
COLD.
fBy Madge Elliot.)
"What mnkes the dog's nose always
cold?"
Til try to tell you, curls of rold.
If you will good and quiet be
And come and stand by mamma's knee.
Well, years and years and years ago-!-Uow
many I don't really know-
There came a rein on sea and shore;
It's like was never seen before
Or since. It fell unceasing down.
'Til aK the world beaan to drown.
But Just before it began to pour
An old man his name was Noah
Built hhn an ark, that he might save
His family from a watery grave;
And In It also he designed
To shelter two o every kind
Of beast. Well, dear, when It was done.
And heavy clouds obscured the sun.
The Noah folks to It quickly ran.
And then the animals began x
To gravely march along in pairs:
The leopards, tigers, wolves and bears.
The deer, the hippopotamuses.
The rabbits, squirrels, elks, walruses,
The camels, goats, cats and donkeys.
The tall giraffes, the beavers, monkeys.
The rats, the big rhinoceroses.
The dromedaries and the horses.
The sheep and mice, the kangaroos.
The hyenas, elephants and koodoos.
And hundreds more-: 'twould take all
day.
My dear, so many names to say
And at the very, very end
Of the procession, by his friend
And master, the faithful dog wan seen.
The livelong time he'd helping been
To drive this crowd of creatures in;
And now, with loud, exultant bark.
He gayly sprang aboard the ark.
Alas! so crowded was the space.
He could not find In it a place;
So, patiently he turned about
Stood half way In and half way out.
And these extremely heavy showers
Descended through nine hundred hours
And more; and, dreary, at their close.
Half frozen was his honest nose;
And never could It lose again
The dampness of that dreadful rain;
And that is what, my curls of gold.
Makes all the doggies' noses cold.
Contributed by Mrs. H. H. Smith.
Mrs. J. W. Tagsart asks us to re
print the following tribute to the late
President McKlnley:
"DEATH HAS CROWNED HIM AS A.
MARTI R."
Ella WUeeler Wilcox tribute to Presi
dent McKlnley.
In the midst of sunny waters, lo! tha
mighty Ship of State
Staggers, bruised and torn and wounded
by a derelict of fate.
One that drifted from its moorings In
the anchorage of hate.
On the deck our noble Pilot, in the
glory of his prime.
Lies in woe-impelling silence, dead be
fore his hour or time.
Victim of a mind-self-centered, a god
less fool of crime.
One of the earth's dissension breeders.
one of Hate's unreasoning tools.
In the annals of the ages, when the
world's hot anger coWs.
He who sought for crime's distinction
shall be known as Chief of Fools.
In the aiirials of the ages, ho who had
no thought of fame '
(Keeping on the path of duty, caring
not for praise or blame).
Close beside the deathless Lincoln, writ
In light will shine his name.
Youth proclaimed him as a hero: Time.
a statesman; Love, a man:
Death has crowned him as a martyr, so
from goal to goal he ran.
Knowing all the sun of ;lory that a
' human life may span.
He was chosen by the people; not an
accident of birth -Made
him ruler of a Nation, but his
own intrinsic worth.
Fools may govern over kingdoms not
republics of the earth.
He has raised the lover's standard by
hla loyalty and faith.
He has shown how virile manhood may
keep free from scandal's breath.
He has guzed, with truth unshaken, in
the awful eyes of Death.
In the mighty march of progress he
has sought to do his best.
Let his enemies be silent, as we lay him
down to rest.
And may God assuage the anguish of
ono Buttering woman's breast.
Mrs. Clara D. Mitchell sends the fol
lowing pretty lyric:
THE SI'GAK CAMP.
Back where the sycamores
And lynn trees bend.
O'er the glistening water
Their Images to blend.
A silvery little creek
Flows silently along,
'Neath a hill crowned with maples.
Bosom, scarred, yet strong.
Here the wild bird was free
To utter his shrill sound.
And the little squirrel dared
To scurry around.
At he break of dawn.
When Spring voices sang.
The melodious notes
Of the skylark rang. ,
And when Winter bade adieu.
How good it did teem.
On the hilltop to see
The smoke and the steam.
See the augers and the spiles
And the water trickle down.
Info the old wooden troughs
Weather-beaten and brown.
See the furnace and the kettles
The gourds and wooden palls
The long tent-like shed
Over the pile of old rails.
The bucket of "skimmin's"
And the long paddles, too
The barrels and the sled.
Which the old mules drew.
O. the Joy and the pleasure.
When early Springtime eame.
To linger 'round this cherished place
And every year the same!
The steam and the smoke
Has now cleared away,
Alid on we have Journeyed
To the present. Today.
But how on our minds
Every Spring we stamp.
The good old days
At the sugar camp.
Out of a raro scrap Uok collection
the following ballad rf I-wls and
Clark is sent by Clara D. Mitchell: .
THE FLAG.
By Arthur Macy.
Here comes the flag.
Hail it!
Who dares to drag
Or trail it?
Give It hurrahs.
Three for the stars
Three for the bars,
fncover your head to it!
The soldiers who tread to it
Shout at the sight of it.
Th juctice and right of it.
The unsullied while of It.
The blue and the red of it.
And tyranny's uread of it!
Here comes the flag!
Cheer It!
Valley and crag
Shall hear it.
Fathers shall bless It,
Children caress it.
Ail hall maintain it.
No one shall stain It.
Cheers for the sailors that fought on
the wave of it.
Cheers for the soldiers that always
were brave for it.
Tears for the men that went down to
the grave for it.
Here cornea the flag I '
A