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diff --git a/old/45674.txt b/old/45674.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f0e01ca --- /dev/null +++ b/old/45674.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7829 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Prison Poetry, by Hiram Peck McKnight + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Prison Poetry + +Author: Hiram Peck McKnight + +Release Date: May 17, 2014 [EBook #45674] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISON POETRY *** + + + + +Produced by Giovanni Fini, Caroluyn Jablonski and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + _COPYRIGHT, + BY H. P. M'KNIGHT, + A. D. 1896._ + +[Illustration] + + + + + _PRISON POETRY_, + + _BY_ + + _H. P. McKNIGHT_. + + +[Illustration] + + _IN LEISURE MOMENTS CAST A LOOK + UPON THE PAGES OF THIS BOOK; + AND IF YOUR THOUGHTS THEY SHOULD ENGAGE, + JUST THINK OF ME WHO WROTE THIS PAGE. + AND IF BY CHANCE, IN YOUR TIME OF LEISURE, + YOU, IN THESE PAGES, SHOULD FIND PLEASURE, + THEN DART YOUR MIND UP TO THIS CELL, + FOR HERE I LIVE IN AN EARTHLY HELL._ + + + + +_DEDICATION._ + + + Go forth, thou little volume, + I leave thee to thy fate! + To those who read thee faithfully + Thy leaves I dedicate. + + But if your fate should be so sad + As mine who thee have writ, + I'd be so vexed to think that I + Had made such a poor "hit." + + But if by chance you meet a friend + Along life's road so dreary, + Just cheer his mind till he is blind, + And never make him weary. + + Teach him the way, the live-long day, + To lend a helping hand, + And never turn or even spurn + Those wrecked on life's hard strand. + + If chance should be you return to me, + Along with harvest's golden, + I'll vouch for thee to all who see, + That thou wilt not embolden. + + And now go forth, thou little book, + I leave thee to thy fate! + To those who read thee faithfully + Thy leaves I dedicate. + + + + +_PREFACE._ + + +In the preparation of the verses that fill these pages I have been +helped by some of the prisoners of this institution. The donors have +been somewhat few, for which I return thanks; but each and every +verse is a fair representation of the many phases that the mind of a +prisoner passes through, and of his true sentiment. Those that have +been donated by my fellow prisoners are accredited to them by either +their name or serial number. Some of the verses have been published +in our prison "NEWS," but inasmuch as they have reached only +an inconsiderable few outside the prison walls, I prepare this little +volume and hand it to the wide, wide world. My motto, in so doing, is: + +May you who enjoy the blessings of liberty and worldly freedom, partake +with us of our solitary musings, and enjoy our noblest thoughts and +resolutions, as well as for us to enjoy yours; and that you may know +that we are not devoid of true, manly, noble principle simply because +we are cast--some justly, others unjustly--into prison. + +May we exchange greetings with you all--shake--and if by chance I have +been fortunate enough to interest you, I am well compensated; but if +I have been more fortunate, and given you--even one of you--a line of +noble, good thoughts and advice--I say, "May the seed fall on good +ground and bring forth good fruit; may it not be wasted upon barren +rock." In my work on "Crime and Criminals" many of these verses will +appear in the "Appendix." + + Very truly yours, + + H. P. McKNIGHT, + + A. D. 1896. O. P., Columbus, O., U. S. A. + + + + +_INTRODUCTION._ + + + True models of poetic art. + Should please the ear and touch the heart: + Stamp on the plastic mind of youth + Due reverence for Eternal Truth. + Paint field and flower in nature's hues, + Give to the world the heart's best news, + Or, lightly tripping o'er the page, + Rejuvenate the blood of age. + The sacred Muse should ne'er descend. + Vice to guild, nor wound a friend. + Heaven gave no man poetic art, + Save to improve the human heart. + + You may not find, in coming page, + The ripened wisdom of the age: + Yet you _will_ find, untrained by art, + The deathless music of the heart: + And truth shall caress each flaming line. + Inspired by The Tuneful Nine; + No fear of man nor greed of praise + Shall make or mar our tuneful lays; + We simply voice the ripest thought + Of prisoned souls with meaning fraught. + Yours it is to praise or blame + My effort to deserve a name! + + + + +_CONTENTS._ + + + PAGE. + + Acrostic to Warden and Mrs. Coffin, By McKnight 93-95 + + Acrostic to Chaplain and Mrs. Winget, " " 183-185 + + Acrostic (Initial), " " 167 + + Acrostic to Capt. J. C. Langenberger, " Van Weighs 148 + + Acrostic to Dr. H. R. Parker, " Harrison 168 + + Acrostic to Harry Smith, " Van Weighs 150 + + A tribute to Capt. Geo. W. Hess, " " " 143 + + A Letter From Home, " 24138 42 + + A Memorial Ode, " Van Weighs 110-111 + + A Prisoner's Thanksgiving, " McKnight 20-21 + + A Prisoner's Lamentation, " " 63-64 + + A Prayer For Justice, " " 87 + + A Prison Vision, " Harrison 95-107 + + A Query, " Morse 69-70 + + A Sad Warning, " Harrison 146-147 + + An Appreciated Friend, " McKnight 114-115 + + Be Lenient to the Errant One, " Harrison 37 + + Birthday Musings, " Van Weighs 88 + + Coming In and Going Out, " Carr 50-51 + + Conclusion, " McKnight 194 + + Dreams, " " 48 + + Ella Ree's Revenge, " " 171-178 + + Erratic Musings of Unfettered Thought, " Harrison 25-36 + + Forget? No, Never! " McKnight 18 + + Freedom, " " 17 + + God Bless Them, " " 18 + + Guilt's Queries and Truth's Replies, " Harrison 41-42 + + Hope, " Law 39 + + Hope--Eternity, " McKnight 21 + + How To Be Happy In Prison, " 22700 23 + + In Prison, " Harrison 24 + + Influence, " Law 36 + + Judge Not Lest Ye Be Judged, " " 72 + + Kindness, " Roth 46 + + Lines To My Cell, " McKnight 111-112 + + Lines To My Wife, " Harrison 169 + + Love's Victim, " McKnight 58-63 + + Last Night In the Dungeon, " " 38-39 + + Midnight Musings, " " 68-69 + + Mother, " Overstreet 19 + + My Lawyer, " Gilbert 144-145 + + My Mother, " Carr 109-110 + + My Prison Garden, " McKnight 11 + + Our Board of Managers, " " 65-66 + + One and a Few, " 21069 67-68 + + Out of the Depths, " Harrison 170 + + Prison Pains, " " 45 + + Prisoners, " McKnight 83 + + Perfect Peace, " McKnight 37 + + Reflections, " " 43-44 + + Rhyme and Reason, " " 11-16 + + Stray Thoughts, " " 70-72 + + Salome's Revenge, " " 115-142 + + She Loves Me Yet, " Harrison 149 + + Soul Sculpture, " Doane 51 + + The Storms of Life, " Law 57 + + The Prisoner Released, " Col. Parsons 44 + + The Convict's Prayer, " Harrison 73 + + The Great "O. P." " McKnight 49 + + The Fall of Sodom, " " 75-80 + + " " " Canto Second, " " 78-80 + + There Is No Death, " " 47 + + The Murderer's Dream, " " 179-182 + + The Prisoner's Mother, " Mrs. Wirick 22 + + The Reformer, " Law 43 + + The Under Dog, " Barker 45-46 + + The Phantom Boat, " Harrison 151-169 + + To A Departed Idol, " Van Weighs 91-92 + + Tribute to Dr. G. A. Tharp, " " " 113 + + Tribute to the Wolfe Sisters, " Harrison 89-91 + + Tribute to the Wolfe Sisters, " McKnight 81-82 + + Tribute to Capt. Joseph Smith Acheson, " Harrison 108 + + Tribute to Capt. L. H. Wells, " Van Weighs 66-67 + + The Mind's the Standard of the Man, " McKnight 185-190 + + The Author's Farewell, " " 192-193 + + Two Letters, " Harrison 84-86 + + Weight and Immortality of Words, " McKnight 52-53 + + Which Loved Her Best, " " 54-57 + + Wine vs. Water, " " 74-75 + + Would They Know, " Collier 40 + + + + +PRISON POETRY. + + + + +_PRELUDE._ + + + If you prefer the sounding line, + Go read some master of the Nine! + Good taste perhaps you will display; + Let others read my simple lay + That gushes from an honest heart + Unawed by fear, unstrained by art. + I ne'er will prostitute my Muse + The rich to praise, nor poor abuse; + But simply sing as best I can + Whate'er may bless my fellow man; + I dare not stain a single page + With outbursts of unreasoning rage, + But if one sorrow I can soothe + Or one his rugged pathway smooth; + One pain relieve, one joy impart, + 'Twill ease the burden of a heart + That has known for weary years + No solace save unbidden tears. + Hard is the heart that will refuse + Due merit to the Prison Muse. + May heaven watch the prisoner's weal + And mankind for his sorrow feel! + +[Illustration] + + + + +_MY PRISON GARDEN._ + + + In this mind's garden thoughts shall grow, + And in their freshness bud and blow; + Thoughts to which love has beauty lent + And memories sweet of sentiment. + Now, if I cultivate them right good, + They'll furnish me with my mind's food. + My enemies may my corpus hail, + While onward, upward, thoughts will sail + To realms above, where all is peace, + And where the soul may rest with ease. + + + + +_RHYME AND REASON._ + + + In contravention of the laws of right, + Man's cruel passion and his guilty might, + Has bound me tightly with a galling chain + Of heaped-up malice and unjust disdain! + From front rank lawyer to a felon's cell, + Through perjured villains, not by sin I fell! + By fiat law my body was consigned + To this grim cell for guilty ones designed. + Yet I'm no convict--I have never known + The deep remorse by guilty wretches shown! + I am a martyr--doomed by adverse fate + To brave the billows of malicious hate! + Yet I am free, for Nature's august plan + Makes MIND not _matter_ constitute the MAN. + + Tho' men may curse me and cast out my name, + Like some vile bauble on the sea of shame; + Brand me as murderer or catiff thief, + Or atheistic infidel--steepid in unbelief; + Foe to all that's pure and good--wretch unfit to live; + Outlaw whom no honest man can even pity give! + Yet my soul will still defy your prison bolts and bars, + And soaring far on eager wings beyond the faintest stars, + Live in a world to you unknown, where only poet soul + Can bask in beauty undefiled by cankering control! + In vain is all your hate and scorn--vain your prison blight; + God loves me, and I feel assured that all will yet be right! + I know one law--a perfect law, by Nature's self designed-- + 'Tis Heaven's dearest gift to man--The Freedom of the Mind! + + If minds and hearts were easy read as faces we can see, + Society would lose its dread and many a prisoner free! + But what, alas! do people care what's in another's brain? + They only seek to hide their share of misery and pain. + Were all compelled to truthful be and show their inner life-- + Great heavens! what a jamboree of sin and shame and strife! + How few would measure half a span if Mind alone we closely scan! + Where is the man on this broad earth, so pure, so good, so true, + That never gave an action birth he dared not bring to view? + The Christ alone was sinless here, none other lives aright; + All human goodness springs from fear of death's approaching night! + There is no soul so white I know but what temptation's power + Its purity can overthrow and all its good deflower! + Disguise the truth as best we can, he _errs_ the most who most is + _Man_! + + Come, let us take a journey, with cathode rays supplied, + And view the greatest and good in all their pomp and pride! + Examine first the churches, where the godly crew + Teach poor erring mortals what is best to do. + They tell us human nature is _once_ and always wrong, + And prove man's deep depravity in sermon or by song. + All natural passion is denounced as deep and deadly sin, + And _truth_ and _virtue_ painted as graces hard to win. + Heaven, they tell us, is a place with blisses running o'er; + Hell, a lake of torture, where fiery billows roar! + A choice eternal all must make between their birth and death; + It may be made in early life or with expiring breath! + But how this choice must be made each gives a separate plan, + That clearly proves how narrow is the erring mind of Man. + + One tells us naught but good pursue, all evil to eschew; + Another swears without God's grace no mortal thus can do; + One bids us work salvation out with trembling and with fear, + Another swears that God's elect should never shed a tear; + One says all must live the life Jesus lived on earth. + Another says it can't be done without a Second Birth! + Some say _work_, others _trust_, others still say _wait_; + Some deem us mere automatons, saved or lost by _Fate_! + Some, with philanthropic views, declare all must be saved, + Since Christ, the Perfect Offering for _all_, death's horrors braved! + Since Christians never will agree, 'tis best that every man + Should listen to his conscience, and do the best he can! + God ever _has_ and _will_ do right! In His Eternal Plan + The time will come to set _aright_ the numerous wrongs of _Man_! + + See yonder's pompous deacon, with diamonds clear and bright; + He looks a model Christian--just turn on him your light. + Great heavens! what a medley of _cant_ and sin and shame! + If the half we see was ever told 'twould ruin his good name! + But turn on yonder pastor your strange, mysterious light; + I know he is a real good man, who loves Eternal Right. + Ye holy saints, protect us! _he_ too has gone amiss! + When Siren Voice allured him with a seductive kiss! + If half the prayers we utter be not a sounding lie, + It is but little marvel that we are doomed to die! + For each will plead forgiveness for thought or action done, + And _none_ by spotless merit eternal bliss hath won. + Then gently judge your fellow, his failings lightly scan; + Like you, he can not corner _all_ the brains of man! + + See, yonder is our Congress, where wits and fools unite, + To declare by the nation's statute what _is_ fundamental right! + They yell of patriotism and the majesty of Law, + And are for once unanimous--their salaries to draw! + Alas! alas! 'tis ever thus within our halls of State; + Sweet Justice is blacklisted--the _dollar_ is too great. + Aye, even on judicial bench, where justice should be done, + How scattering are the cases where _Right_ the victory won! + Lawyers, judge and jury _exparte_ view the case-- + An angel would be ruined in the defendant's place! + In vain is protestation, in vain a blameless life; + Some _must be_ doomed to prison when prejudice is rife! + Law must keep its servants in stations high and proud, + Tho' every hour should furnish a coffin and a shroud! + + The modern Shylock of today, unlike his friend of old, + Demands the pound of quivering flesh and _all_ his victim's gold; + Nor feels content until he sees his victim's hated face + Behind a wall of rock and steel in garments of disgrace. + Then he will raise his dainty hands and loud applaud the law + That _can_ protect such beings, who live without a flaw. + _He_ has no pity for the weak, who thro' temptation fall, + But freely spends his _time_ and _means_ the guileless to enthrall. + He heaps _his_ mighty wrath and scorn on every evil done, + And speaks in tones of pure disgust of poverty's pale son. + But if you bid him look within and study his own heart, + He has a task herculean--'tis such a _tiny_ part! + And as for Mind--ye angels! in fair creation's plan + 'Twas given to his victim, and left him _half a man_! + + The modern Clytemnestra no dagger needs to use; + She slays her Agamemnon within your _legal_ pews, + Since judges now are willing to sunder marriage ties, + And juries are so truculent when blushing beauty lies. + Or if she be a _Helen_, and Paris suits her taste, + She hastes without compunction to lay her honor waste. + "Society" allows her to have "a special friend," + And a husband is _so_ handy her good name to defend! + But alas! Aspasia _no mercy_ need expect; + Her Pericles _lionized_, but none _her_ worth detect! + And as for poor Thargelia _none_ will take _her_ part; + She lives a social outcast, with broken, bleeding heart; + But each base seducer, in our social plan. + Makes poor, trusting woman bear the sins of _Man_! + + Many men are now misjudged, and meet an awful fate, + Whose innocence is published, but alas, it is too late! + Many, too, are breathing freedom's precious air + Whose vile conduct merits prison dress and fare. + Only _little_ rascals in your prisons _die_, + While _stupendous_ villians liberty can buy! + Each one strives with fervor his neighbor to outshine, + And he who has the most of gold is reckoned half divine. + You scatter dark temptations around the poor man's path, + And when he falls you pour on him _all_ your vicious wrath. + Poverty in public lives all her deeds are seen; + Wealth can build a castle her _wickedness_ to screen. + Yet many a noble woman and kingly man is found + As toilers in your factories or tillers of the ground! + + If cathode rays were freely used to bring to human sight + The dirty methods villians use to _damn_ Eternal Right, + Many men would be set free and others take their place + Who now can roll in luxury and laugh at their disgrace. + A judge and jury now can sit and _hang_ a man at will, + But they say 'tis open _murder_ if but _one_ dares kill! + Take a ring of brass and plate it o'er with gold, + And 'tis only _business_ when the fraud is sold! + Adulterate both food and drink, deal in deadly pills; + Law will aid your _robbery_ and collect your bills! + Give to your profession but a sounding name, + Then cut up the devil without fear or shame. + Be sure to call it _business_ whatever you may do, + And if you have sufficient _gall_ that will pull you through. + + Now throughout this prison rays cathodal dart, + And read the hidden secrets of each convict heart. + Some have wrought vile deeds, and wrought them o'er and o'er, + That surely proves them rotten to their inmost core. + And here are wretched fiends, who with consumate art, + Ravish every instinct of the human heart. + Some men of wit and letters, cultured and refined, + Others moral lepers, with heart and conscience blind. + From drawing room and brothel, farm and city slum, + Some by acts of justice, some through perjury come; + The innocent and guilty, callow youth and age, + All can be imprisoned in this Christian age! + But they who seek for liberty no innocence must plead-- + Gold, and plenty of it, will be all they need. + + Some young souls are making, for a stated time, + This, their maiden effort, on the sea of crime. + Oh, Christians, teach them early what to me is plain; + Crime ever _has_ and ever _will_ result in lasting pain. + Do not be _too_ lenient, nor _too_ soon forgive, + Lest all _vice_ should flourish and no _virtue_ live. + Society demands it, the _guilty_ should atone-- + But take care you punish those, and those _alone_! + Keep them in your prisons till by _virtue_ shown + They will know what _is_ and what is _not_ their own. + But let all be careful lest by _word_ or _act_ + Those who should _reform_ them from their _good_ subtract. + Rule them wisely, gently--by some _humane_ plan, + All their faults to conquer as best becomes a MAN. + + When your work is finished and their habits changed, + Give them honest labor, by the State arranged; + Show them honest labor _can_ a living gain, + While the _social outcast_ harvests _want_ and _shame_! + Treat them fairly, kindly; teach them all the true + Will be friendly with them while _the right_ they do. + Both principle and policy declare this course is wise; + Then why longer act the fool and wisdom's voice despise? + Crime never _can_ nor _will_ decrease until in _Wisdom's School_ + Men learn the noted lesson, "Right _through_ Law should Rule." + All tried plans are failures, this none dares deny; + Now give _Common Sense_ a show and failure dare defy. + Do _this_, and lash and pistol, now your sole defense, + Shall give place to Reason and plain Common Sense! + + Courts are far too careless when they give men life + For offense unnoticed save in time of strife. + Naught but some poor chicken or a ham he stole-- + Shall the devil purchase at such price a soul? + If such petty crimes as this deserve such prison fare, + Come now, honest reader, what is _your_ just share? + Was that old Greek right, who, tho' a man of sense, + Could mete out death to all for each small offense? + Apply his heartless rule, and can you truly say + Any man or woman would be left to slay? + Man is only mortal, and to sin is prone; + Never cure another's faults till you quit your own. + Many are convicted by the _press_ at large; + The Public Mind is rarely Heaven's peculiar charge. + + Bring the judge and jury who declared my fate + For the shining dollars furnished them by hate, + And their guilty conscience by my own arrange, + And then tell me frankly if my fate should change! + Yet I had sooner die behind these bars of steel + Than to have a heart of stone that _could_ not feel! + I know such human tigers, who fatten on distress, + Never _can_ and _never_ will enjoy one hour of rest! + Until all hate and malice, all greed and other sin + Is burned by awful torture to leave them pure within! + God _will_ forgive each penitent whate'er his sin may be, + Whose heart is overflowing with _love_ for bond and free. + Oh listen! brothers, listen--'tis Jehovah's plan-- + And a _time is fixed_ to right the wrongs of Man. + + + + +_FREEDOM._ + + + How sweet thou art, O freedom. + To every human heart-- + Man's privilege most sacred. + His being's noblest part. + Thou priceless, great possession, + Without thee life were done! + Its sun gone down forever, + For thou and life are one. + + How dear thou art, O freedom-- + Our birthright here below! + Chief blessing of all blessings + Kind heaven doth bestow. + Deprived by dark misfortune + Of every other joy, + Naught while thou still remainest + Can happiness destroy. + + But thou, O prison penance, + Dark shadow by life's board! + Of all that men hold mournful + Thou art the fullest stored. + There's naught on earth worth having + If't must be shared with thee-- + O happy, holy freedom! + O heaven, set me free. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_GOD BLESS THEM_ + + + God bless the mothers of this land! + They are so good and true; + And all the sisters of their band, + They are so noble, too. + If we don't treat them with respect, + And court their wholesome 'fluence, + Our morals will not be correct, + And we will suffer hence. + + +If women are not treated with respect, and made to exercise an +influence over the social world, the standard of private virtue and +public opinion will be lowered, and the morals of men will suffer. + + + + +_FORGET? NO, NEVER!_ + + + There are things we'll not remember, + And much will be forgot, + As in the bleak December + When our coffee was not hot; + When the butter was much younger, + When the bread was sour and dry; + When are felt the pangs of hunger, + With regrets and many a sigh. + How the memory used to vex us + As 'twould o'er our senses steal; + How we wished they might "annex" us, + So we'd get one good square meal. + Other things may be forgot + In this busy, hustling age, + But one thing we ne'er can blot + From off our memory's page, + That we never can forget + In a hundred months of Junes; + It will long our memories fret-- + _Those prunes--those rotten, wormy prunes_. + + + + +_MOTHER._ + +BY OVERSTREET. + + + Who is it, in this life so drear, + That pines for the wandering boy, + And ever ready with words of cheer + To turn sad thoughts to joy? + Mother. + + Who is it, when all others do forsake + And leave us to our grief, + That will for long hours lie awake + And pray for our relief? + Mother. + + Who is it, when the world laughs on + And gives our sighs no thought, + That thinks of the boy who looks upon + This life that's come to naught? + Mother. + + Who is it, when from prison freed-- + The boy goes forth so sadly-- + That receives him in his hour of need + With tears of joy--yea, gladly? + Mother. + + Who is it, when the end has come, + Looks fondly on her child, + And prays to God for a happy home + For the boy that's been so wild? + Mother. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_A PRISONER'S THANKSGIVING._ + + + What if the gold of the corn lands + Is faded to somber grey? + And what if the down of the thistle + Is ripened and scattered away? + There's a crowning golden harvest, + There's turkey the heart to cheer, + There's a basket from home with plenty of "pone," + Tho' 'tis bathed in a mother's tear. + + What 'f our friends are far from us + And they know not where we are? + What if those who are dearest + Live ever away so far? + There's room for us by th' fireside, + Where in childhood days we'd play; + 'Tis comfort to think, tho' we stand on the brink, + That we will be there some day. + + What if our hearts are lonely + As we toil in our enemy's hand? + What if our sad looks betray us + As we take a true manly stand? + There's a coming golden harvest, + There's a time when we all'll meet, + When prison locks and iron bars + Will fail to ther pris'n'r keep. + + What care we for the pang at heart? + 'Twill all be gone some day; + And then tho' our enemies'ld crush us, + They'll be scattered far away. + Tho' this is a sad Thanksgiving, + A better one's coming our way, + When we'll all be home to share in the "pone" + And hear our angeled sister pray. + + What if the gold of the corn lands + Is faded to somber grey? + And what if the down of the thistle + Is ripened and scattered away? + + Away to the east in a far off land + There's turkey the heart to cheer. + Where the dear ones are partaking + And thinking of one that's here; + There's father and mother and sister and brother, all so far away. + There's a blessed time a-coming-- + The prisoner's Thanksgiving day. + + + + +_HOPE--ETERNITY._ + + + The heart bowed down with silent grief. + Despair its portals soon assails. + Oh! let such moments be but brief + When spirit lost o'er man prevails; + Think not of friend who, false, betrayed. + Nor sweetheart's change, nor colder wife-- + Recall those oaths when passion prayed + For vengeance and for foeman's life. + + We pass dear friends but once this way: + Our judge, accusers and our foe. + If false to God and man they play. + Not thou, but they, shall suffer woe. + All stay is short; the longest span + Counts less than raindrops in the sea. + Arouse thee, then, despairing man. + And hail with hope--Eternity! + + Glows in thy cell a fragrant bloom, + Plucked from thy guardian angel's wreath. + Do thou but nurture it with prayer + And water it with tears of faith. + To humble hearts its petals ope, + Revealing bliss to streaming eye-- + Immortal blooms this rose of hope, + God's flower of life--Eternity. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_THE PRISONER'S MOTHER._ + +BY MRS. S. E. WIRICK. + + + To be a prisoner's mother + Is to feel a piercing dart + That sets the mind a-whirling + And almost cleaves the heart. + + To be a prisoner's mother + Is, upon a holiday, + To visit him in prison, + Then part and go away. + + To be a prisoner's mother + 'Tis, inside the lonely wall, + To say, "Farewell, my darling"-- + Oh, I almost faint and fall. + + No resting place but heaven, + No happy morn that dawns; + Our home so drear and lonely + Because our boy is gone. + + An empty bed, a missing plate, + A grief that inward burns; + No balm on earth to heal our hearts + Until our boy returns. + + "Honor and shame from no condition rise; + Act well your part, there all the honor lies." + +[Illustration] + + + + +_HOW TO BE HAPPY IN PRISON._ + +BY NO. 22700 + + + Do what is right, and day by day + Teach yourself that work is play + Of brain and muscle, rightly used-- + And hurtful only when abused; + Deep interest take in all you do; + 'Twill others please, as well as you. + + Relieve a fellow prisoner's need; + Righteous counsel always heed; + Be not suspicious or unjust-- + Few men betray a perfect trust; + He trusts the most whose heart is pure, + And generous thought will malice cure. + + Brood not o'er the ills of life; + Give no cause for needless strife; + Tomb the past with all its sin; + Purify yourself within; + Rear your standard, be a MAN, + And do whatever good you can. + + Some, perhaps, will misconstrue + All you say and all you do, + But when conscience is at rest + Happiness will fill the breast-- + 'Twill be a sweet red-letter day + When we all shall act that way. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_IN PRISON._ + +BY HARRISON. + + + That which the world miscals a jail + A private closet is to me; + Whilst a good conscience is my bail, + And innocence my liberty: + Locks, bars and solitude together met + Make me no prisoner, but an anchoret. + + I, whilst I wisht to be retired, + Into this private room was turned, + As if their wisdoms had conspired + The salamander should be burned; + Or, like those sophists that would drown a fish, + I am constrained to suffer what I wish. + + These manacles upon my arm + I as my mistress' favors wear; + And for to keep my ankles warm + I have some iron shackles there; + These walls are but my garrison; this cell, + Which men call jail, doth prove my citadel. + + I'm in the cabinet lockt up, + Like some high-prized margarite, + Or, like the Great Mogul or Pope, + Am cloistered up from public sight: + Retiredness is a piece of majesty, + And thus, proud Sultan, I'm as great as thee. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_ERRATIC MUSINGS OF UNFETTERED THOUGHT._ + +[BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON.] + + + Is living thought, proud condor of the mind, + By walls of rock and iron bars confined, + Innate divinity by human courts enslaved, + And right eternal by a dust-worm braved? + Think you the spirit's rapid flight to mar + With dungeon torture and by iron bar? + Can rock-ribbed walls and bars of steel + Deprive man of the power to feel? + Can you the stream of Lethe roll + In maddening torrents o'er the soul, + Pluck from my brow love's garland fair + And brand me "Victim of despair?" + No! weakling son of vengeful fate, + God grants to none a power so great. + My body is your lawful prey, + Poor lump of spirit-crumbling clay; + Seize, chain and manacle each part, + Aye, even starve my bleeding heart, + But know that for Creative Thought + All fetters by one's self is wrought. + Mind, glorious Mind--Jehovah's sleepless breath, + Can know no bondage and can feel no death. + In yon fair regions of unreached repose + Eternal Beauty's flower-chalice glows, + Filled to the brim with satisfying wine, + Ambrosial nectar of the Tuneful Nine. + My muse can reach it on external wings + And drink till all the heart within me sings! + I scale the lofty heights, by virtue shown, + And from Eternal Wisdom seek my own. + There, far above the struggling world of fate, + I greet true freedom and am wisely great. + 'Tis mine in bright elysian fields to roam, + Pluck jeweled treasure from the sleeping gnome; + Bid ocean deeps their mysteries reveal, + Or, soaring far above the world of space, + Gain raptured visions of the Holy Place; + Admire and measure every glittering throne, + Count heavenly treasure as my own, + Make august angels bow beneath my rod, + And even dare to mould the mind of God; + O radiant fields of pure, untrammeled Thought, + With what sweet incense are thy zephyrs fraught; + How clear the view, from thy exalted height, + Of human errors and unerring right; + 'Tis thou alone my laboring Muse can teach + The perfect measure of her powers to reach; + She cons these fragments of a Truth sublime, + And art stands ready with appropriate rhyme + To trim each sentence and each word to place + In melting numbers of seductive grace; + Since first Jehovah, bending low to earth, + Breathed in man's nostrils an eternal birth, + The rain drop falling, from the heavy cloud, + In waiting dust, finds ready shroud, + And there commingling fills each separate cell, + Yet still remains as pure as when it fell: + To man appearing but a dampened clod, + 'Tis chambered favor of a gracious God; + And serves his purpose till He calls above + This liquid semblance of Immortal Love, + There _not_ to perish, but return again + To deck the forest and adorn the plain; + All nature feels its fructifying power + In laughing streamlets and in nodding flower; + The rain drop typifies the Pure Indwelling God, + That permeates our being, to animate a clod; + Give birth to all emotion, consistent with His plan, + And with unmeasured tenderness weep the fall of man. + From every nodding flower, from every whispering breeze + From mountain's lofty height, from towering trees, + From softly twinkling star, from lightning's giddy flash, + From the softest twitter of a bird and thunder's awful crash, + From hills the ants may call their own, + From crested elders 'round their throne, + From babbling brook, from storm-lashed wave, + From nature smiling, nature grave, + From earth and air, from sky and sea, + There comes the self same voice to me, + Like softest note of cooing dove, + And sweetly whispers, "GOD IS LOVE." + All nature is obedient to heaven's august plan, + And none will dare rebellion, save ever-erring man. + He, of a dual nature--purity and lust-- + Defies his Great Creator and thus betrays his trust. + Thrones within his being the hydra-headed sin, + All his joy to murder and create _hell within_; + Self-conscienceness completes the triple blow + While memories of happier years augments his hapless woe. + Whatever then of pleasure his wounded spirit knows + From the fountain of bitter repentance it onward, onward flows, + His own environment, be it either fair or fell, + Must _now_ embower his heaven, or will create his hell. + Contentment, peace, or pleasure he must create anew + By sowing seeds of virtue where vice so lately grew. + He learns he must not do whatever man can do, + But recognize the limits of the just and true. + Law is his _Alma mater_, the measure of his right, + The barrier Jehovah set to curb irreverent flight; + He has the truest liberty who recognizes law; + 'Tis made to shield his virtues and on his vices war; + He who denies humanity lives for himself alone + All history to hush, all culture to disown; + And quickly he relapses into a barbarous state, + Where only force and prowess can make the unit great. + None so lost to _virtue_, none so devoid of art, + As he who fails to capture the _empire of a heart_; + He who knows not sympathy feels no fellow's woe, + Will never feel the rapture of happiness below; + God planted seeds of pity in every human breast, + And he who loses most of woe secures most of rest: + Love is man's _all_, his conqueror, his cordial and wine, + The measure of his inner life that stamps him as divine. + How circumscribed the circle God allots to man, + His home is but an acre, his life is but a span; + And yet within that circle his influence is so great + He wakes the cooing notes of _love_ or feeds the fires of hate; + His influence is potential within a circle small, + But beyond the limit of the same he does no good at all; + All thought, all power with which our being teems, + Is action predicated on events or on dreams. + All we have seen or heard, all we now can feel, + Leaves an imprint on the heart that the future must reveal: + The vain are truly lonely, they long to be admired, + One wishes to be understood, another well attired, + This hushed by useless longings or fashion's changing art, + That sweetest of all poems, _the music of the heart_. + But he who solves life's mystery is never quite alone, + All ages is his playground and solitude his throne; + He walks in subtle converse with all the mighty dead, + Gathering priceless jewels their wit or wisdom bred. + The watchtowers of his thought o'erlooks the struggling mass, + While events both past and present before his vision pass. + He sees the weary captive tugging at his chain; + The weather-beaten sailor plough the raging main; + The swarthy burden bearer in forest, mine and field; + The merchant's soiled ledgers, the soldier's brazen shield; + The child with glittering toy, the maiden at her glass; + The ruler of an empire, the leader of the mass; + The student in his study, the priest on bended knee; + The teacher with his ferrule, the aged human tree, + All fondly dream of freedom, yet all beneath the ban, + Each in a separate prison presided o'er by _man_; + Sees _nature_ and _morality_ are ever waging war, + The first as god of freedom, the latter lord of law. + Sees culture raise her barriers between polite and rude, + And hears _Religion_ thunder, "Cover up the nude!" + Knows man in every station to be a willing slave, + The football of his passion, the dupe of every knave. + Yet hears him boast his freedom, laud his reasoning power; + Rule all he can with iron hand, and _finite_ judgment shower; + Sees all the devious, hidden paths by sinful mortals trod + Where _human_ law and custom dare ostracise a god; + Yet knows a germ of goodness, deep in the human breast, + Is living in the worst of men however much depressed. + Knows life is but the unit of God's Eternal Plan, + And learns to _pity_, not to blame, poor ever-erring man! + In each created atom sees faultless beauty glow + And God's Eternal purpose in onward sequence flow. + Views all souls as living harps, whose seeming dissonance + Is but apparent and not real; and believes, perchance, + God will mend each shattered chord, tune the quivering lyre, + And from out each soul shall bring a music sweeter, higher + Than earthly ears have ever heard or earthly lips essayed; + Such music as the ransomed sing in innocence arrayed; + While all the universe entranced shall wondering inquire: + "Is this the fruitage of _His_ woe? Is this his soul's desire? + Is this the harp so late unstrung? Is this poor fallen man? + Ah! can it be that all was wrought obedient to God's plan"? + + Nature will o'er matter bear imperial sway, + And all not immortal must in time decay; + Man's tenement is mortal, but himself divine; + Which should he most cherish, the jewel or its shrine? + Yet when vice allures him with seductive ray, + Gives he not to passion undisputed sway? + Dreams he not of beauty who, with open arms, + Calls for lust to enter and revel 'mid her charms? + Is his eye not captive? Do not his senses thrill? + What is left the tempted one save his feeble will? + If that will prove recreant to Jehovah's trust, + Pays he not the penalty in self-consuming lust? + Must his spirit suffer through unending years + For the shame he purchased with agonizing tears? + Life is but a shoe-broom, Nature is God's book + And he's the aptest scholar who all her laws can brook! + If love of right was constant man could well defy + All of sin's allurements and unspotted die! + _One_ such man has lived who, with a faith sublime, + Crucified the temple where he dwelt in time, + And entered heaven victorious without the aid of grace, + The marvel of all centuries, the Savior of the race; + But had His will but weakened, Jesus, too, had fell, + And man without Redemption sank tottering into hell; + All would be good did not true goodness claim + Such earnest noble effort from a will so tame; + _Crime_ is but a sequence of misguided will + Inherent moral defect and _surrounding_ ill. + Man's innate love of beauty and his dread of pain, + His ever raging thirst for power and his greed for gain + Alternately do sway him with resistless power, + The spotless blossoms of the soul, until he only yearns + For the ever hideous lust that blackens as it burns. + Guilt comes not, thundering on the wings of time, + With vice-distorted feature and the leer of crime, + But like enchanting vision from a pagan dream, + Or softly echoed cadence of a whispering stream, + She steals upon us gently, with ever-changing art, + And usurps an empire--the waiting human heart! + Her outward form is beauty, her voice with Passion tense, + She only craves the privilege to gratify each sense; + All apparent pleasures 'round her path are spread, + But, alas! you seize the flower to find its fragrance fled; + But still pursuing, row with bated breath, + You clasp her to your bosom and--embrace a death! + Then, conscience stricken, you the wreck survey, + And with shuddering sorrow--humbly kneel to pray; + While the pitying angels on their pinions bear + The ever sacred burden of repentant prayer, + And almighty love descending reasserts control, + And mercy in the guise of grace has won a human _soul_; + But contrast a moment, with this heavenly plan, + The awful brutal conduct of exacting MAN. + See yon martial champion riding on the flood + Of a frightful carnage and a sea of blood; + His path is strewn with many a ghastly sight, + Dead and dismembered bodies and defenseless fright! + Yet all the people with a loud acclaim + Pronounce _him_ "_Hero_," and accord him Fame! + True, he butchers thousands in a cruel war, + Yet you deem him _guiltless_, he obeyed _your_ law. + But if your angered brother slay a single man, + _Him_ you brand a "Murderer," worthy of your ban; + And with zeal unbounded you wage relentless war + Until he falls, a victim to rage-created law. + As if a useless _murderer_, sanctioned by the state, + Was less the fruitage of revenge than one new-born of hate; + Perchance in some fair aiden, some far distant sphere + Your poor hapless victim these just words may hear: + "Thou art now forgiven, poor misguided son! + "Tho' tranced with dire passion thou hast slain but one. + "Thou hast made atonement, breathed a fiery breath + "Of a deep repentance and an awful death! + "Place on him the raiment--whiter far than snow, + "And teach his untried lips to sing the song the angels know. + "But as to yonder soldier who for the bauble fame + "Led unbattled thousands without fear or shame; + "And with banners flying to the bugle's chime + "Hurled obedient legions into conscious crime-- + "All the tears he showed, _all_ the blood he shed, + "Now in molten fire shall circle 'round his head, + "And all shall learn the lesson, that horror-breeding war + "Will _never_ meet the sanction of Jehovah's law!" + This is no fancy picture, nor idle dream of youth, + But, if I know the laws of God, it is the solemn truth". + + Behold a homeless wanderer, poor and thinly clad, + To biting cold a victim, with hunger almost mad, + Entering yonder mansion, dares to boldly steal + What none should e'er deny a dog--the pittance of a meal! + See the greedy sleuth-hounds of the outraged law + Wage against this robber an unrelenting war; + While _Christian_ judge and jury, with ready wit, declare + His crime an awful outrage, that merits prison fare! + But he who rears his costly domes + O'er wreck and ruin of human homes, + Plants in the breast a raging thirst + And leaves his victims doubly cursed, + Can roll in luxury, loll in pride + And, with _the law_, his gain divide! + Tho' every dime he pays the state + A thousand cost in wakened hate! + + A simple youth by passion lured, + And of but little wisdom steward, + Meets with a maid of witching grace + And dalliance ends in dire disgrace! + In prison stripes you teach the fool + That he must _love_ by _human_ rule! + Yet you rear great, costly piles + Where soiled doves may ply their wiles + And lead to an unhallowed bed + The lustful brute you lately wed. + If passion will assert her power + None shall dare a maid deflower + Unless so _licensed_ by the state + In wedlock's bonds his lust to sate! + And, if marriage prove a bane, + _Divorce_, for cash, will ease his pain! + Then to your haunts of sin he hies + And laws of God and man defies + By casting, in a barren sea, + The germ of _life_ that is to be! + 'Tis true this evil you decry-- + And raise your taxes mountain high! + As if the more the state shall gain + The less will virtue feel the strain!-- + You legalize _divorce_ and _fraud_, + And each _successful_ scoundrel laud, + Unmindful tho' he gain his wealth + By open plunder or by stealth. + In vain his hapless victims cry, + His _gold_ can legal silence buy! + But if through stress of penury's strife + One makes a shipwreck of his life, + You prisons build and place within + This fruitage of a law-made sin, + To linger till the cowering slave + Shall fill--unwept--a pauper's grave. + And scarce a line of obscure print + At this dark tragedy will hint; + But if your millioned puppy dies + What wailings rend the astonished skies! + What sabled hue and lengthened train + Attest your deep regret and pain! + How yon cathedral's vaulted arch + Will echo with his funeral march; + What flowers will deck his costly tomb; + What tapers rob the grave of gloom; + While columns, nay, whole papers tell + How _great_ a man today has fell. + Deluded mortals! raise your eyes + To yon fair regions of the skies, + Where _justice_ sits, each cause to try + Beneath Omniscience's searching eye; + Your "_convict_," on low bended knee, + Pleads "guilty"--and they set him free; + And angels crown, with loud acclaim, + The man you deemed a living shame! + Your _Croesus_, with uplifted eye, + (Still conscious of his station high) + Deigns to repeat, with growing stress, + How from defeat he wrung success; + Tells, with a proudly swelling heart, + Of millions spent on sculptured art; + And millions more on lordly hall, + The eye and heart of man to thrall; + Tells how a church and college new + From _his_ donation quickly grew; + Tells how--in cushioned pew--he knelt + And begged God other hearts to melt, + Until each child of man should be, + Like his dear self, from error free; + All this they hear your idol tell-- + And cast him headlong into hell! + While heaven bows her head with awe + In sanction of Jehovah's law. + + What mighty solons fill your halls of state! + (Poor gibbering parrots with an empty pate), + Who deem all prisons of but little use + Not founded on starvation and abuse. + They lock poor pris'ners in a loathsome cell, + While lash and pistol drives them on to hell; + They crush his manhood and his soul debase, + Blot out ambition and his name disgrace, + Yet wonder greatly that such humane plan + Makes not an angel of each convict man. + These truthful samples of your legal page + Condemn your judgment and disgrace your age-- + Too oft repeated, who will dare to say + To what dark horrors they may pave the way? + Pause! ere the records that now strew your path + Invite the vengeance of Jehovah's wrath; + Relearn the lesson early taught mankind, + "To God give reverence and to man be kind." + Be this your motto, and each setting sun + Will kiss the feature of a work begun; + Time cannot tarnish and no heart can blame + Your noble effort to deserve a name; + Heaven will applaud you, and the smile + Of happiness the hours beguile, + Why pay such homage to mere human laws? + Dread you man's censure or admire applause? + Are you forgetful that the crown of fame + Is purchased torture and expiring shame? + Think you man's plaudits or his causeless hate + Can either ope or close the pearly gate? + Who ever placed in man implicit trust, + Nor saw his idol, soon or late, in dust? + Why thus pursue an ever fading wraith? + 'Tis God, and God alone, deserves your faith. + Survey all things with comprehensive view, + Admire all beauty and enthrone the true; + Know every mortal, tho' a separate soul, + Is but a fragment of the mighty whole + That fills a niche in God's eternal plan, + All for the welfare of ungrateful man; + Learn that in many a loathsome cell + A prisoned genius or a saint may dwell, + Whose power, developed by an act of love, + May lead a million to the Courts above. + Shall it be yours to touch that vibrant chord + And share the honor of the great reward? + What heaven endorses that alone can stand; + All else is stubble, built on shifting sand, + That shall vanish 'mid the fire and flood + Like tiny snowflakes in a sea of blood. + Oh, could my Muse, by some exalted flight, + Portray her knowledge of Eternal Right-- + Breathe in soft accents to the listening ear + The melting music which my soul can hear, + Some would declare my reason half dethroned + Before my fancy to such heights had flown; + Yet could such see as I have seen the scroll + Where God has written "Destiny of Soul," + They much would wonder how my Muse + Could dare suppress such glorious news. + What pen can picture or what brush can paint + The endless rapture of a raptured saint? + Words are too feeble; they but tell in part + The truthful language of a human heart; + But, Oh, when spirit from its cumbering clay + Shall rise triumphant to the realms of day, + What strains seraphic from our lips shall break + Till all creation shall to bliss awake! + O bliss supernal! when our lips shall meet-- + The lips long buried--and our souls shall greet + The loved and cherished of those earlier years. + Ere pain had turned each quivering chord to tears, + And life was smiling in her morning hours + And love was conscious of her magic powers. + Oh, sweet reunion on the crystal strand! + When we shall fondly clasp the waiting hand + Of buried jewels distance hides from view, + And all the plighted vows of life renew, + Then shall we learn the truthfulness of love, + When hearts like ours, renewed in youth, above + All passion and the cloying cares of earth + Shall wake to rapture with a Second Birth! + + O hearts estranged, forgive and be forgiven! + Your cruel coldness has already driven + The angel sweetness from your speaking eye, + And suffered everything, save pride, to die. + O cradle, in the lap of everlasting sleep + The dark, fierce passions that now rudely sweep + The sounding chambers of the suffering soul, + Where Hate's tumultuous torrents hourly roll, + And blacken what was once so white and fair, + When spotless Innocence was centered there! + Oh, keep no kisses for my cold, dead brow-- + I am so lonely--let me feel them now. + When dreamless sleep is mine I never more can need + The tenderness for which tonight I plead; + My wayworn spirit and my thorn-pierced feet + The piteous pleadings of my lips repeat. + Oh, shall I plead and plead with you in vain + To bring love's sunlight to my soul again? + Shall acts repented, bred of undue haste, + Lay all my stock of future pleasures waste? + Bid me to draw a servile, galling chain, + Nor wish to murmur, nor murmur to complain? + Will you deprive my hungry soul of love, + Nor leave one spark of happiness above? + Oh, what base deed has these my fingers wrought + To wake a malice with each vengeance fraught? + If I have sinned and disobeyed your laws, + Discarded fashion and despised applause, + Have I not suffered all a man can know, + And drank the bitterest dregs of human woe? + Think you my proud and haughty soul to cower + With scorpion lashes of tempestuous power? + Go scourge the ocean with puny lash, + Or raze a mountain with a feather's crash! + Why thus torment my swift declining age + With useless torture of unreasoning rage? + 'Twere best to sound the caverns of my soul + And learn the being whom you dare control! + 'Twill teach you wisdom in a single hour + And rob your malice of its wasting power! + For heaven has writ upon each poet soul + "DEAL GENTLY WITH HIM AND HIS ALL CONTROL." + + + + +_INFLUENCE._ + +BY SAM LAW. + + When e'er a noble deed is wrought, + When e'er is spoke a noble thought, + Our hearts, in glad surprise, + To higher levels rise. + + The sleeping purpose wakes in us, + Arousing power or genius, + And from their exercise + Is born good enterprise. + + Honor to those whose words or deeds + Thus help us in our prison needs, + And by their overflow + Raise us from what is low. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_PERFECT PEACE._ + +["Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace."--Isaiah xxvi, 3.] + + + Peace, perfect peace, in this dark world of sin, + The blood of Jesus whispers peace within; + Peace, perfect peace, for loved ones far away; + In Jesus' keeping we are safe and they. + Peace, perfect peace, with sorrows surging 'round, + On Jesus' bosom naught but calm is found; + Peace, perfect peace, our future all unknown; + Jesus we know, and He is on the throne. + Peace, perfect peace, death shadowing us and ours; + Jesus has vanquished death and all its powers. + It is enough, earth's struggles soon shall cease, + And Jesus calls to Heaven's own perfect peace. + + + + +_BE LENIENT TO THE ERRANT ONE._ + +BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. + + + Like phantoms weird of troubled dream, + In they come--a ceaseless stream-- + The callow youth, the aged sire, + To reap the fruit of Satan's hire. + + With pallid brow and rueful face + They view their garments of disgrace, + And oft in eyes unused to weep + Unbidden tears will slowly creep. + + Be lenient with the blighted crowd; + Some come, perhaps, to greet a shroud; + Some, perhaps, will go outside + And yet become a nation's pride. + + If by kindness you reclaim + A single soul from crime and shame, + God will reward the noble deed + And aid you in the hour of need. + + + + +_LAST NIGHT IN THE DUNGEON._ + + + The darkness of Hades and a vile, deathly smell + Is all that I feel stealing over my senses, + As lingering alone in this cold dungeon cell, + Shut away from the world, where hearts' blood condenses. + I feel 'tis too much for slight, trivial offenses. + + Shut away from the dear ones, the loved ones on earth, + I suffer the tortures that no man can tell + Till he's taken away from fireside and hearth + And sees the sad visions of a dungeon cell-- + Then he feels that vile man can create a real hell. + + As I sit here alone, my head throbbing and aching, + And listen to hear if the keeper is near, + My thoughts they roam back to little ones taking + Caresses so sweet from a mother so dear-- + Then I'm prompted to ask, "Do they think of me here?" + + But when in my heart I feel a slight flutter, + I know there is sympathy somewhere about; + I then to myself do silently mutter, + "They have love for me still, and there is no doubt:" + Aye, love for me still, and this I've found out. + + Then, down on the damp and cold stony floor, + Without either pillow, or blanket, or gown, + I stretch my weak body right close to the door, + And there, in sweet sleep, my vision to drown-- + Then, when I awake, I'm not so cast down. + + There is nothing so sweet and perfectly soothing + To one who is placed in a cold dungeon cell, + As the thought that yet there are dear ones a-wooing + The one who's imprisoned in a dark, dreary dell-- + I muttered, while sleeping, "'Tis well, ah, 'tis well." + + Then, when I awoke and proceeded to think, + Cold, stiffened and hungry, with tongue parched from thirst, + I seek but in vain for food and for drink, + But bread and poor water, the same as at first-- + Aye, dry bread and bad water, the same as at first. + + Then my heart sank within me, so weak and so pale, + As I gazed on the keeper of dungeon and jail + And begged for a drink of pure Adams' ale, + As he held in his hand a full water pail-- + But the answer came back, "Your plea it must fail." + + Then, giving it up in pure desperation, + I try to surpass the curse of damnation + That springs to my lips ere I can but control + The blood that is boiled by such torturing droll-- + Then I whisper, "Be still! Some one loves this poor soul." + + Then, staid by the love of those dear ones at home, + I steady myself and go swimming along; + I brave the hard life of a dark dungeon cell + And I come out victorious, all perfect and well-- + Then I meet them again and go home there to dwell. + 'T is well! Ah, 't is well! + + + + +_HOPE._ + +BY SAM LAW. + + + The world may change from old to new,-- + From new to old again,-- + Yet Hope and Heaven, forever true, + Within man's heart remain. + The dreams that bless the weary soul, + The struggle of the strong, + Are steps toward some happy goal, + The story of Hope's song. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_WOULD THEY KNOW?_ + +BY 25700. + + + If, amid these prison shadows, + These pale lips should breathe their last, + Would my friends regret the summons, + And forgive my guilty past? + + Would they know the dire temptations + I had met and nobly braved + Ere the tears in guilty passion + My pale cheeks in torrents laved? + + Would they know how oft and earnest + I had plead before the throne + For the place my crime made vacant + In the bosom of my own? + + Would these hours of retribution + Prove sufficient for my sin? + Would the gates of glory open + To let this weary wanderer in? + + Hear, Oh, hear! From yonder heaven + Speaks the Lamb once crucified; + "Look up, sad one; never falter; + For such sinners once I died." + +[Illustration] + + + + +_GUILT'S QUERIES AND TRUTH'S REPLIES._ + +BY HARRISON. + + +GUILT. + + Will the fountain of life, now bathed in tears, + Ebb and flow ten weary years? + Will the soul escape the horrible blight + That stalks in prison's gruesome night? + +TRUTH. + + Trust, weary one, alone in ME; + Living or dead, thou shalt be free + From prison blight and sin's alarms, + While closely nestling in my arms. + +GUILT. + + Will the absent ones I love the best + 'Neath heaven's smile serenely rest? + Will every branch of the family tree + Still bud and bloom till I am free? + +TRUTH. + + If they lean upon my breast + I will give thy loved ones rest; + If death a single jewel steal + Heaven its presence it shall reveal. + +GUILT. + + While prayers ascend from sacred fane + Shall penitent tears be shed in vain? + Will Christ ascend to a prison cell + And deign in a convict heart to dwell? + +TRUTH. + + None will I spurn who pardon crave-- + I came on earth the lost to save: + He loves the most whose debt is large-- + That soul is heaven's peculiar charge. + +GUILT. + + If ever again I shall be free + Will the wreck of my life still haunted be? + Will the much loved friends in the days of yore + Spurn me from their open door? + +TRUTH. + + Those who bathe in Calvary's stream + Sin regard as a hideous dream; + My children clothed in white by me + A welcome meet where'er they be. + + + + +_A LETTER FROM HOME._ + +BY NO. 24138. + + + I am far from the land where my loved ones are dwelling; + Between rolls the sea, with its billows and foam; + Yet my heart with fondest emotions is swelling + As I read the dear letter they've sent me from home. + + For I fancy I see the brown cottage again, + And the garden where sweetly the red roses blow; + I kneel by a grave in the shade of the glen, + Where slumbers the dear one I lost long ago. + + And oft to my heart, when in solitude straying, + Fond memory recalls the bright days of yore, + And I sigh for the fields, where the children are playing, + The hills and the valley I may never see more. + + Long years have I wandered, alone and a stranger, + And dark is the pathway o'er which I must roam, + But I know there is ONE who can shield me from danger, + And his blessing I ask on the dear ones at home. + + + + +_THE REFORMER._ + +BY SAM LAW. + + + All grim and soiled and brown with tan, + I saw a strong one in his wrath + Smiting the godless shrines of man + Along his path. + + I looked: aside the dust cloud rolled-- + The Master seemed the Builder too; + Upspringing from the ruined Old + I saw the New. + + Through prison walls, like heaven-sent hope, + Fresh breezes blew and sunbeams strayed, + And with the idle gallows rope + The young child played. + + Where the doomed victim in his cell + Had counted o'er the weary hours + Glad school girls, answering to the bell, + Came crowned with flowers. + + + + +_REFLECTIONS._ + + + How pleasant it is to be at home, + Surrounded by those we love; + How sweet to list to words of cheer + That softly fall on the listening ear + Like the notes of a cooing dove. + + How the soft caress of a loving hand + Can dry the eyes that weep! + How the mind is eased and the pulses thrill + As we feel the strength of a loving will + That rocks our grief to sleep. + + How soft that hand has ever been + When sickness laid us low, + How its soft caress could summon rest + And bring relief to the laboring breast, + And cool the fever's glow. + + How soft the light in love-lit eye, + That welcomes our safe return; + How the tender kiss and warm embrace + Can soothe the pain of late disgrace + When fate has been too stern. + + God bless the home where love abides-- + 'Tis the dearest spot on earth! + Be it hovel or palace, or great or small, + It holds man's hope, his joy, his all, + And heaven gave it birth! + + + + +_THE PRISONER RELEASED._ + +BY COL. H. C. PARSONS. + + + I could stand and look at the stars all night-- + Where tides run in wreaths to the rivers and rills, + Where the sea breezes play with the wind from the hills-- + Where by land and by sea man can go where he wills-- + I'm a free man again, and a free man of right. + + I could stand and look at the stars all night, + For months that were years they have prisoned my stars; + My silver-veiled Venus and red-hooded Mars + Were fettered and framed by the merciless bars, + That shaded their glory or shivered their light. + + I will stand and look at the stars all night; + I will wait in the shadow and lee of the tower + Till morning shall come, with his magical power-- + Perhaps in the flame of that wonderful hour + The prison shall tremble and pass from my sight. + + + + +_PRISON PAINS._ + +BY HARRISON. + + + Oh! to be heart hungry, + To feel that never again + Shall the heart pulsate with rapture + To the music of love's strain! + + To feel o'er the senses stealing + A grief for words too deep, + And know the heart's best instincts + Are locked in fathomless sleep. + + To hear the piteous wailings + That rise from an empty heart, + While every breath is torture + And every thought a dart. + + Oh, list to the wondrous music + As it floats from the world above: + "There is balm for the broken-hearted: + The gift of my Son is--love." + + Aye, prayer to heaven ascending, + Tho' winged from a convict cell, + Shall find in heaven a welcome + No tongue can ever tell. + + + + +_THE UNDER DOG._ + +BY BARKER. + + + I know that the world--the great, big world, + From the peasant up to the king, + Has a different tale from the tale I tell + And a different song to sing. + + But for me--and I care not a single fig + If they say I was wrong or am right-- + I shall always go in for the weaker dog, + For the under dog in the fight. + + I know that the world--the great, big world-- + Will never a moment stop + To see which dog may be in the fault, + But will shout for the dog on top. + + But for me--I never shall pause to ask + Which dog may be in the right-- + For my own heart will beat, while it beats at all, + For the under dog in the fight. + + + + +_KINDNESS._ + +BY ROTH. + + + A kind word for the prisoner, + A smile to cheer his heart, + For he bears a grievous burden, + Tho' he bravely plays his part. + + From the world he hides his sorrows, + Stifles the groan of distress + That struggles oft for utterance + Beneath his convict dress. + + The alert night watch could tell + Of the burning sighs they hear + While making midnight rounds + Through corridors so drear. + + Then cheer his lot with kindness, + E'en though he be depraved: + If, wakened from his blindness, + The worst one may be saved. + + + + +_THERE IS NO DEATH._ + + + There is no death! The feeble body, slumbering, + Seems but to waste and fade away; + In future years that God is numbering + 'Twill spring from slumber and decay. + + And clothed with beauty everlasting, + With not a stain of earth to mar, + 'Twill voice a music more entrancing + Than anthem of the morning star. + + A thing of beauty is immortal; + Each line once lost to mortal sight, + Soars upward to heaven's august portal, + Glad to escape earth's cankering night. + + Earth's best and brightest can not perish-- + Death is decreed alone to strife. + The good we love and fondly cherish + God has endowed with endless life. + + Grieve not for those now calmly sleeping, + Rocked by the slow, revolving earth: + Angelic hosts around them sweeping + Shall wake them to an endless birth. + + In heaven above there is no seeming: + God feeds immortal souls on bliss; + On earth we linger, sadly dreaming, + Till death awakes us with a kiss. + + Then fear thee not death's friendly slumbers: + Guardian angels watch thy rest; + Jehovah all thy days shall number + And do for thee whate'er is best. + + + + +_DREAMS._ + + + Dreams are but glimpses of the power + Deep hidden in the human soul + That, like some enchanted flower, + Withers 'neath reason's stern control. + + They come not as invited guests + To while away the tedious hours-- + Are they not lights from heaven sent + To teach the soul its wondrous powers? + + And best they love to lead us back + O'er scenes to memory doubly dear, + For those we, waking, love the most + In dreams will seem most near. + + While reason sleeps the soul, awake, + Lives o'er each precious hour, + And woos us with a gentle strain + Of pathos and of power. + + Dreams index to our waking thought + Plans on which the heart is set, + And he who heeds their warning voice + Has in life least to regret. + + In waking hours we sow the seed, + In dreams we reap the grain: + Sometimes the harvest all is joy, + Sometimes, alas! 'tis pain. + + What marvel then that sleep is sweet, + If dreams bring bliss to view-- + Perhaps the afterglow of death + Will prove most dreams are not untrue. + + + + +_THE GREAT "O. P."_ + + + "Forward, march!" the left foot first, + The heel down mighty hard, + Your head erect and turned to the left, + As you slyly watch the guard. + Tramp, tramp, three times each day, + Back and forth to our meals, + While the fellow behind, with his "State brogans," + Scrapes the skin all off our heels. + + The visitors in amaze at us gaze + As we march gayly by, + The ladies fair, with many a stare, + Will slyly say, "O my!" + Some "Hayseed" old, with a chronic cold, + Will suddenly say, "I swow! + There goes the man--do you see him Ann?-- + What took our brindle cow!" + + They say we are "cut-throats" and "robbers," + And would be worse if we could; + But it's false--we're noble-hearted patriots, + Here for our country's good, + And the honor came to us, you know: + We didn't go to it-- + In other words, we were forced here + To "do" our little "bit." + + Uncle Sam's domain has been ransacked + For men with blue-blooded veins, + For we don't want any persons here + With any mortal stains. + We are all old sons of Irish lords-- + Or at least we'd like to be-- + But instead we are only "cons," you know, + Doing time in the great "O. P." + + + + +_COMING IN AND GOING OUT._ + +BY CARR. + + + Coming in to penal slavery, + Coming in from liberty; + Going out to joy and freedom, + Going out the world to see; + Coming in, oh, how unhappy! + Going out with many a doubt-- + Endless stream of wretched mortals + Coming in and going out. + + From the many charms of home life, + From beneath the humble cot, + To this penal institution + Where the felon mortal's brought + From some distant homes perhaps torn + Because grim justice took a fit-- + Coming in with sighs and sadness, + A bondsman for his life or "bit." + + Far his loving wife and children, + While their eyes with tears are wet; + Though his family needs him daily. + And there are bills that must be met, + To this convict world about us, + With its heartless woe and din, + Endless stream of restless mortals + Adding to its load of sin. + + Time goes on so very slowly, + Though we try hard not to grieve + For the dear old family homestead + And for those we're forced to leave; + Weary are we very often, + Weary when we try to win + News of those who loved us dearly + Ere we took this step in sin. + + Coming in, alas! to never + See the outside world again! + Some there are that have my pity: + Naught for them but toil and pain; + Doomed life's golden hours to fritter + Far from home and friends most dear-- + God's pity on the poor full-termer + Coming in to die, we fear. + + Coming in to serve our sentence, + Going out, we hope, to cheer; + Coming in to do hard labor, + Going out to family dear-- + Careless stream of wretched mortals + From all stations 'long life's route-- + Hovel, mansion and the hamlet-- + Coming in and going out. + + + + +_SOUL SCULPTURE._ + +BY BISHOP DOANE. + + + Sculptures of life are we as we stand, + With our souls uncarved before us, + Waiting the hour when, at God's command, + Our life dream shall pass o'er us. + If we carve it, then, on the yielding stone + With many a sharp incision, + Its heavenly beauty shall be our own, + Our lives the angel vision. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_WEIGHT AND IMMORTALITY OF WORDS._ + + + Who knows how heavy his words may be, + Or watches, when he has set them free, + Their poising, their flight, their rise and fall + In the world of thought? We are careless all. + + We fathom our own, not another's mind. + And are all near-sighted among our kind, + While words of ours and words of theirs + Are meeting and wrestling unawares. + + Words are types of our moral trend, + The blooms of our daily lives, that lend + To others the fragrance of what we are-- + The outward semblance that goes afar. + + The part of ourselves that is not our own, + When set afloat in the vast unknown, + The something we give to the moving wheels + Of the mighty force that grows and feels. + + No words are lost as they float away: + On some life ever they rest and weigh, + Unbound in public or depths obscure + Their immortality is secure. + + Deep in our hearts we often find + Words lips long closed have left behind: + They live in the chambers of the brain, + The source of endless joy or pain. + + Words may be soft as evening air + Or fierce as sultry noonday's glare, + But soft or fierce, be sure they rest + A curse or blessing in some one's breast. + + How deep soever their meaning may lie, + Not every soul will pass them by! + No anger, nor passion, nor malice so great + But a match 'twill meet in a world of hate. + + No love so deep, no word so kind + But lodges at last in a kindred mind, + No thought so vast, nor high nor low + But a parallel meets in a world of woe. + + A heedless word a heart may break, + A thoughtful one a fortune make; + One, hurl a soul in endless night; + Another, lead to heaven's delight. + + One word may nerve a murderer's arm, + Another still a raging storm-- + One, sow the seeds of endless strife; + Another, sanctify a life. + + Our words outline the feeble tongue + From which their outward being sprung, + Or, written on the stainless page, + They live to bless or curse an age. + + How careful, then, ought we to be + Before we let such engines free! + Once free, no power can call them back, + Nor human genius trace their track. + + We loose them 'mid the wide expanse + 'Neath joyous spell or sorrow's trance, + But if their fruitage all could know + We would not deem them half so low. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_WHICH LOVED HER BEST?_ + + + Two votaries of love's maddening dream + At twilight sat beside a stream, + Each painting scenes of future bliss, + Dependent on their darling's kiss. + + Both were young and both were fair, + With noble hearts and manly air, + And both were members of a band + Who bled to free his native land. + + Each was bound both heart and soul + Beneath fair Nellie's sweet control, + Yet they were friends both true and tried, + If such ere lived, if such ere died. + + Each loved her much, yet neither knew + How well each loved her, nor how true, + For each was dreaming of the hour + That _he_ would cull this priceless flower. + + At last Ned turned and gayly said, + "Next Wednesday I and Nellie wed-- + God knows I am the happiest man + In all this joyous Western land. + + "I could not keep this back from you-- + That would be unjust--untrue. + I feel whatever shall betide + That _you_ will e'er defend my bride." + + Harvey turned aside his face, + Lest his friend should see some trace + Of the anguish and despair + The hopeless suffering mirrored there. + + Each word had sunk within his heart + Like adder's tooth or poisoned dart; + Joyful love and hope had fled, + And left his withered heart--stone dead. + + He raised his haggard face above + Until an angel mother's love + Sent comfort to her suffering child, + That made him calm and meek and mild. + + By memories of the tented field + Where patriots died, but dared not yield, + He knew that Ned his arm had lent + To stop steel for his bosom meant, + + And oft had watched beside his bed + When others in dismay had fled; + When he spoke, his voice was low + And soft as rippling streamlets flow: + + "I wish you peace and joy, Ned; + You best deserve this queen to wed. + I only crave in future life + To serve you and your peerless wife." + + The loyal look in Harvey's eyes + Was to Ned a new surprise; + And in a moment all was plain-- + His friend's devotion and his pain. + + They stood and wrung each others hand + To reinforce their friendship's band-- + Their hearts were full, their eyes were wet, + Yet who can such a scene regret? + + Their friendship stood the cruel test, + And sank triumphant into rest; + They parted, but to meet again + Where life was torture, memory pain. + + One year passed, and war had swept + O'er the spot where these two wept, + While they, with Meig's galland band, + Were held by Santa Anna's hand. + + Behind Satillo's gloomy walls, + Whose history stoutest heart appalls, + Here base deeds were hourly wrought + With hell's intensest malice fraught. + + Two hundred patriots true and tried + To Santa Anna's shame here died + Simply because they leapt the wall + And strove to go beyond recall! + + Ned and his comrades planned their flight + While careless sentries slept at night, + And in safety reached the distant plain + Where hope and life revived again. + + Across the arid plain they sped, + Half clothed, half starved and almost dead; + Without a guide to lead them right + They toiled by day and prayed by night. + + The blistering soil bold cactus bred + Till every toil-worn foot was bled, + And one by one the hapless band + Fell prostrate on the glittering sand. + + Pursuing soldiers found them thus, + And drug and drove them to the "truss," + There to await the "tortures grand" + That Santa Anna would command. + + "Nine of ten shall now be shot; + Choose the guilty dogs by lot: + This law for ages now untold + Has defied both fraud and gold!" + + _Nine black_ beans and _one_ snow _white_ + Were placed within a box at night-- + Every captive must draw one, + Blindfolded, ere the work begun. + + If _white_, he lived, if black, he died-- + Thus were the Texas patriots tried! + By sons of Gantimozin's race-- + Man's caricature and heaven's disgrace! + + Harvey drew one of faultless white, + Ned drew one as black as night. + "I'm lost--oh, God, my wife!" Ned gasped, + As Harvey sprang his hand to clasp. + + "Not so," he cried, "your bean is white-- + See, mine is _black_, thank God! 'tis right!" + E'er Ned could draw a conscious breath-- + Harvey had met a hero's death! + + Which loved her best, the man who _died_ + Or he who _lived_ to cheer his bride? + Please answer me; O heart, awake-- + Such liberty I dare not take. + + + + +_THE STORMS OF LIFE._ + +BY SAM LAW. + + + The oak strikes deeper as his boughs + By furious blasts are driven; + So life's vicissitudes the more + Have fixed my heart in heaven. + All gracious Lord, whate'er my lot + In other times may be, + I'll welcome still the heaviest grief + That brings me near to Thee. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_LOVE'S VICTIM._ + + + She was no dainty city belle, + Half art and half deceit, + And yet no fairer vision + The human eye could greet. + + Naught knew she of city life + Or fashion's changing art-- + Nature created her a belle + And blessed her with a heart. + + Her eyes were large and soulful, + Her face divinely fair; + Her form was lithe and graceful + And a golden dream her hair. + + Her voice was full of melody: + Each tone to listening ear + Seemed to awake such music + As angels delight to hear. + + Beautiful, pure and guileless, + With the faith of a trusting child, + She worshiped the God of nature + With a spirit undefiled. + + She lived with honest parents + In a home on the mountain side, + Where peace and plenty lingered + And love was true and tried. + + Parental duress was unknown, + For love's restraints are mild: + A mother's love and father's hope + Were centered in this child. + + The acknowledged belle of the mountain, + She spurned the coquette's art, + Determining never to promise + Her hand without her heart. + + She could not love her suitors + With the love a wife should give, + And deemed it sin without such love + In wedlock's bonds to live. + + The idol of many a noble heart, + None dared their suit to press: + Thus they wound the gentle spirit + That pitied, but could not bless. + + Grateful for each friendly smile + That o'er her face would beam, + She reigned an empress absolute + In each fond lover's dream. + + A petted child of fashion, + The heir to boundless wealth, + Came one day among them + To recruit his waning health. + + These hospitable mountain people + Welcomed the haggard boy, + And strove to make his visit + One radiant scene of joy. + + They bade their darling daughter + To be the stranger's guide, + And show him all the beauties + Of her loved mountain side. + + Together they scaled the mountains, + With many a merry shout; + Together they garnered the flowers + Or angled the nimble trout. + + He spake of his home in the city, + Of the wealth he soon would own; + Promised to make Lenora his wife + Ere the summer days had flown. + + Lenora loved this stranger + With a soul-absorbing love, + And trembled 'neath his caresses + As helpless as a dove. + + He was a master of the art + That robs the halls of Truth + To gain what passion courts, + Tho' it blasts the hopes of youth. + + His honied words of flattery, + Uttered with seductive art, + Were music to the listening ear + And soon deceived the heart. + + Lenora confided in his worth, + Receiving each promise as truth-- + How could she doubt her only love + In the trustful hours of youth? + + Assured of an early marriage, + She yielded to him one day + That priceless germ of innocence + And fell--to trust a prey. + + She hoped this sacrifice would gain + Her lover's every thought; + This were a boon, if death could buy. + She deemed not dearly bought. + + Little she dreamed that fatal hour + That love had sped the dart + That stamped her as an outcast, + With a withered, broken heart. + + Eugene went to his city home, + Swearing to soon return + And claim as wife the girl he knew + His parents proud would spurn. + + Summer and autumn days passed by + And the winter's cold set in, + Yet the recreant lover came not + To the child he taught to sin. + + A mother's ever watchful eye + Discovered her daughter's shame, + Heard her story with breaking heart, + But uttered no word of blame. + + She knew her daughter's downfall + Was the fruit of love beguiled, + But hated the heartless stranger + Who ruined her trusting child. + + God alone can measure the pain + That child and mother felt, + As, locked in lingering embrace, + In agony they knelt + + And poured in heaven's listening ear + Their heart-destroying grief; + And who so bold as to deny + That Heaven sent relief? + + The father learned his daughter's sin + And drove her from his door. + "Go!" he said, "you guilty wretch, + You are my child no more." + + Stung by these cruel, terrible words, + She fled in wild affright + In search of the heartless lover, + Her fearful wrongs to right. + + She tracked the guilty miscreant down, + And he, to save his name, + Hid her till her child was born + In a house of doubtful fame. + + The world looked on the helpless child + With cold, unpitying eye. + The villian bade his dupe go home, + "Repent of her sin and die." + + She heard, and from her glittering eye + No tear of anguish sped-- + With dagger drawn she reached his side, + And struck the villain _dead_! + + With her babe she sought her father's door + And pled with a piteous cry + A shelter for her hapless babe + While the storm was raging high. + + "Begone, you wretch!" the father cried, + "I curse the hour that gave + Birth to a wretch whose sin has laid + My wife within the grave." + + "My mother dead! and I still live? + Ah! whither shall I fly? + O God! protect my hapless babe, + And suffer me to die." + + The storm increased; she wandered on + Almost till break of day, + Till weary, wet and almost dead, + She knelt in the path to pray. + + The sky was lit from end to end + By the lightning's awful glare, + And a falling tree pinned both to earth + As they knelt in the act of prayer! + + They found them thus in the morning light, + And the father's grief was wild. + He tenderly looked on the touching scene + And at last forgave his child! + + They buried Lenora and her nameless babe + Close beside her mother's clay, + And each one spake in kindly tones + Of the hapless ones that day. + + The arm that sent the dagger home + Was nerved by a brain dethroned: + 'Tis Lenora's was an awful deed, + But her terrible death atoned. + + Aye, let us hope the much-wronged child + Has reached a home above + Where babes can live who have no name + And 'tis not sin to love. + + + + +_A PRISONER'S LAMENTATION._ + + + A poor convict in his cell lay dying: + He thought of home and loved ones dear, + He asked his cell-mate, in a whisper, + "Do you think the end is drawing near?" + + "If I should die before I see them + Tell them how I longed tonight + To have my mother's blessed care + To leave this world of sin and strife." + + Oh! how he longed to see his mother + And the cottage on the hill-- + "_God bless them all_," I heard him whisper, + As with tears his eyes did fill. + + "Will they think of me--a prisoner-- + I, who was once their pride and joy? + While I sleep in the churchyard yonder + Will they think of their wayward boy? + + "I know I've caused them lots of trouble + In wild and reckless boyish day, + But I hope that God will now forgive me + When from this earth I'm called away. + + "I know it broke my mother's heart + When she heard of me, her wayward son, + Who five long years did serve in prison + For a highway robbery he had done. + + "Has Sister "Minn," whom I used to play with + In days of youth, forgotten me? + If she has, I vow I can not blame her, + For I've caused her pain and shame, not glee. + + "There's but one wish I now shall mention-- + That Mother's days may be days of joy, + And when she asks for me in prison + Speak mildly of her convict boy. + + "Here, take this to my dear old mother! + I know 'tis but a lock of hair, + But it's all I've got to give her now-- + I know she'll treasure it with care." + + And when he handed me the keepsake + His spark of life had nearly fled. + He clenched my hand and uttered "_Mother_!" + And a poor convict there lay dead. + + May all young men now take fair warning + From one who's had experience long: + Guard strong against temptation's dawning-- + Cast off evil and do no wrong. + + In your younger days _court_ good, _shun_ evil; + Be careful who you companions choose; + When you make life's start then do not cavil-- + March manfully on to win, not lose. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_OUR BOARD OF MANAGERS._ + + + Long have we lived in misery and woe; + Long have we suffered from "kindness" cold as snow; + Long has pernicious influence been kept + Hovering 'round our misery, while in dungeons we have slept. + + Long have we suffered from want of human care: + Long have we been bearded as the tiger in his lair: + Long have we went hungry for want of proper food, + And felt the sting of th' master's lash, as o'er our task we stood. + + As the dark and gloomy cloud, that hovered o'er our past, + Has been wafted off by humane hands--'tis swept away at last. + We now emerge from darkness into a welcome light, + And live in brighter future hopes--a day made out of night. + + We hail you, noble, honest men, whose hearts beat five as one, + Thus far in your prison work your duty you have done; + Eternal God will always right the brutal wrongs of man, + And therefore He did send you here to do the best you can. + + A Cherrington, for the chairman, is a master stroke, you know. + And a Rose is always welcome, 'cause virtue he will sow; + A McConica, of democrat fame, is a power behind the throne, + While a Hoffman, sent from Cleveland, is a father to the home; + A Muscroft from old "Cincy" is a rattler for the place; + They all do join their hands and thoughts and duty bravely face, + While a McAdow records their acts with a gentlemanly grace. + + They issue mandates right and left and order what is just; + They raise poor fallen, helpless man to a place of welcome trust; + They seek to lead him on the way to a nobler, better life, + And restore him to his children and his broken hearted wife. + + Their Coffin always sits close by to lend a helping hand, + And faithfully their trust does keep--a leader of their band. + Well they know the awful fruitage of each harsh and brutal plan + Is to rouse the lurking tiger in the breast of erring man. + + Now they rule, whose every impulse ripened by enlightened thought, + And it leads to many actions that with highest good is fraught. + And they use with great discretion measures that are just and kind, + Hoping to reform the erring through the agency of mind. + + They have learned the useful lesson taught men from the power above, + That the greatest force in nature is the power of inspired love. + They have learned that rank dissension from all evil nature flows, + And they deem that man the greatest who can ease most mortal woes. + + Let us ever sing enchanting of our now official corps + As they lift us from dark ruin as it has been heretofore. + See! the clouds so lately darkening o'er the prisoner's gloomy past, + Mercy's hand is fast dispelling--REASON _takes the reins at last_! + + + + +_A TRIBUTE TO ASSISTANT DEPUTY WARDEN L. H. WELLS_. + +BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. + + + Comrade, may the God of heaven ease the maddening pain + That has swept across your bosom since your son was slain; + Think not of him as a mortal mouldering into dust;-- + God, too, loved him and, my comrade, He betrays no trust. + + You shall see him when the morning breaks above the night of death, + And your parting, O, my comrade, will but seem a passing breath. + Well I know the awful pressure grief exerts upon the soul, + But I know it will but whiten what it can't control. + + You have met on field of battle many a gallant foe, + And, with patriotism burning, gave them blow for blow, + You have fought till every rebel bent the suppliant knee, + And the land you loved and cherished once again was free. + + You despise no gallant fellow who once wore the blue + When it cost both blood and treasure if a man was true. + You forgive the trivial errors of that noble band, + And you meet a loyal comrade with extended hand. + + You have friends in every station where your worth is known; + You have showered acts of kindness that but few have known. + Since your advent in this prison you have daily won + Hearts that ever will remember _acts of kindness nobly done_. + + Comrade, time is passing swiftly, and Jehovah his reveille + Soon will sound upon the hilltops of a vast eternity. + May we gather with our comrades on that ever beautiful shore + And, like conquering heroes, listen to Heaven's plaudits ever more. + + + + +_ONE AND A FEW._ + +BY 21069. + + + Of all the pet pleasures so pleasing to man + In his present degenerate state, + I doubt if there's any can make him so glad + As the one I'm about to relate. + + While here he's confined he's troubled in mind + With his "fifteen" or "twenty" to do, + And he longs for the day when he boldly can say: + "I've only got one and a few." + + Then keep a strong heart. With courage don't part, + But manfully fight your way through; + Be it "five" or it "ten" or twice that again, + 'Twill come down to "one and a few." + + How often at night when I sit in my cell, + After working quite hard all the day, + My memory goes back to the time that I fell, + For the "bit" which I now have to stay. + + And sometimes, I own, while sitting alone + I feel sad and disconsolate, too; + But it makes me feel gay when I think I can say, + "I've only got one and a few." + + Oh, many's a home that's cheerless tonight, + And many's the mother feels drear; + When she thinks of the one far away from her sight + It causes her many a tear. + + Though others may cleave to her, you are the same; + Misfortune but makes her more true; + She may now be quite sad, but won't she feel glad + When you've only got "one and a few?" + + Then, don't be discouraged. No matter how long + In this prison you may have to stay, + You know that to worry and fret is quite wrong, + Far better drive dull care away. + + Old Time is the boy your "bit" to destroy + As he jogs along, contented and true; + And so, in the end, you'll find he's the friend + That brought you to "one and a few." + + + + +_MIDNIGHT MUSINGS._ + + + 'Tis midnight! The sentry's muffled tread + Is heard within these walls: + As silent as the living dead + He makes his regular calls. + + I try to sleep, but all in vain; + I try to close--I weep, + I hear that muffled tread again-- + The sentries on me peep. + + I hear a voice so clear and plain-- + It calls to me aloud-- + It calls to me again, again; + That voice comes from a shroud. + + Hist! Hist! vile heart, be still! No fear, + My angel sister's voice I hear! + It speaks to me in accents clear + And bids me shun a vile career. + + She bids me meet her once again + And live in Heaven's fairest clime. + Nor shall her pleading be in vain-- + _Resolved_, I'll do no crime. + + Oh, could I feel her warm embrace + As when, in days of old, + I gazed into her angeled face-- + It gave happiness untold. + + Oh, let me live my boyhood days + As in the time gone by! + And let me consecrate her ways + When for this boy she'd cry. + + But, hist! again the muffled tread + Comes gliding, silent as the dead, + Along the beat within these walls-- + Hark! Hark! again dear sister calls. + + + + +_A QUERY._ + +BY MORSE. + + + When the long weary days are over + And the front gates open to you, + Are you again to be a wild rover? + What are you going to do? + + Have you plans or dreams for the future? + Have the days any brightness for you? + Will you be a poor homeless creature? + What are you going to do? + + Should your old-time friends forsake you-- + Those who were strong and true-- + And leave you helpless, homeless-- + What are you going to do? + + But you have one friend who is faithful, + Who is always kind and true. + Read His word and study His gospel-- + He'll tell you what to do. + + + + +_STRAY THOUGHTS._ + + + In the fathomless depths of the mighty deep + What wonders live, what mysteries sleep! + What mind can name the sightless things + That live in the ocean's hidden springs, + Where treasures heaped on treasures lie, + Forever secure from the human eye; + Where creatures sport, that God alone + Can know their joy or hear their moan? + + Who knows but the bride of the Dublin Bay + May walk in the ocean's depths today, + Arm in arm with her own dear Roy + In the conscious flush of honeymoon joy? + Who knows but the hearts that sadly yearned + For the gallant ship that never returned, + Have met, in the ocean's unknown bed, + The loved, tho' lost, we all thought dead? + + Science has proved the human frame + Is water and salt by another name! + Hydrography yet may teach mankind + The open door of heaven to find. + "Davie Jones' locker" may prove to be + Instinct with life, by death set free! + Knew we the tongue of the deep sea shell + What wondrous news its notes might tell! + + The myriad stars in yonder skies + May be the beams of death-freed eyes + That watch us from an unknown shore, + Still faithful to the vows of yore! + The vaulted blue of heaven may be + The looking glass of the mighty sea, + Where deathless souls their vigils keep + O'er fast decaying world, asleep. + + Atlantis, the fabled city of old, + Whose gates inspired poets behold, + May now be resting beneath the wave, + Triumphant o'er a watery grave! + Its pearly gates and glittering spires + Arouse the poet's mad desires. + He sees--and sings in tongue unknown-- + The mysteries by the Muses shown. + + Conducted by a sybil fair, + He penetrates each demon lair + And pictures hell, in golden speech, + Beyond imagination's reach. + To highest heaven his thought has flown + And measured and admired the throne; + Made angels bow beneath his rod + And dared to mould the mind of God! + + Who knows but legends the Muses tell + Are truths encased in a mighty dream? + Who knows but the angels of earth and air + Are the beautiful nymphs beside each stream? + Each singing bird and nodding flower + May be imbued with potent power; + And stars an influence, too, may wield + And bless or curse our natal hour! + + Who knows but what we call a brute + Is with immortal reason blest? + Who knows man is alone divine + And destined to immortal rest? + Theorize and reason as we may, + How little we can really know; + We only learn to live, then die, + And who may say to what we go? + + + + +_JUDGE NOT, LEST YE BE JUDGED._ + +BY SAM LAW. + + + Art thou so good, so free from sin + That thou should'st judge thy fellow men? + Look well to self before the stone, + Aimed at thy brother's faults, be thrown, + Behold in thee + A Pharisee. + + If thou art not so low, perchance thou'rt only so from circumstance; + Perhaps, if tempted, thou would'st fall. Thy nature's sinful, after all. + + Thou knowest not, most righteous scribe, + The struggles, trials, patience tried; + The battles fought, the vict'ries gained, + The bleeding heart, the soul tear-stained, + More human be, + Have charity. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_THE CONVICT'S PRAYER._ + +BY 21269. + + + At midnight, in a prison cell, + On bended knee the convict fell, + And poured in heaven's listing ear + A prayer for those he held most dear. + + Oh, God; defend my absent wife, + Whose breaking heart and blighted life + Spring not from conscious guilt within, + But from a reckless husband's sin. + + Spare her, indulgent heaven, the blow, + That oft has laid an angel low; + Still may her ever angel face + Reflect the presence of Thy grace. + + Be it well pleasing in Thy sight + That she may rear my babes aright, + And teach them, in the bloom of youth, + The laws of kindness and of truth. + + Help me discharge, on every hand, + The duties right and law demand; + And may I live to dwell once more + Honored among the friends of yore. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_WINE VS. WATER._ + + + There stood two glasses, filled to the brim, + On a rich man's table, rim to rim, + One was ruddy and red as blood, + And one as clear as the crystal flood. + + Said the glass of wine to the paler brother: + "Let us tell the tales of the past to each other. + I can tell of banquet, revel and mirth, + And the proudest and grandest souls on earth + Fell under my touch as though struck by blight, + Where I was a king, for I ruled in night. + From the heads of kings I have torn the crown; + From the heights of fame I have hurled men down. + I have blasted many an honored name; + I have taken virtue and given shame. + I have tempted youth with a sip, a taste + That has made his future a barren waste. + Far greater than a king am I, + Or than any army beneath the sky. + I have made the arm of the driver fail, + And sent the train from the iron rail. + I have made good ships go down at sea, + And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me, + For they said, "Behold! how great you be!" + Fame, strength, wealth, genius before me fall, + For my might and power are over all. + Ho! ho! pale brother," laughed the wine, + "Can you boast of deeds so great as mine?" + + The water said proudly, "I cannot boast + Of a king dethroned or a murdered host; + But I can tell of a heart once sad, + By my crystal drops made light and glad-- + Of thirsts I've quenched, of brows I've laved; + Of hands I've cooled and souls I've saved; + I've leaped thro' the valley, dashed down the mountain, + Formed beautiful rivers and played in fountain, + Slept in the sunshine and dropped from the sky + And everywhere gladdened the landscape and eye. + I've eased the hot forehead of fever and pain, + I've made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain; + I can tell of the powerful wheel of the mill + That ground out flower and turned at my will; + I can tell of manhood, debased by you. + That I lifted up and crowned anew. + I cheer, I help, I strengthen and aid; + I gladden the heart of man and maid; + I set your close-chained captive free + And all are better for knowing me." + + These are the tales they told each other-- + The glass of wine and its paler brother-- + As they sat together, filled to the brim. + On the rich man's table, rim to rim. + + + + +_THE FALL OF SODOM._ + + + Thou sin-cursed city of the stricken plain, + Whose heinous lust all after time shall shame, + 'Twas thine to rouse Jehovah's awful ire, + And test the strength of Heaven's revengeful fire. + Thy senseless lust and crime had spread + Till virtue, hope and shame had fled; + Degraded youth and tottering age + Could not appease thy senseless rage; + Thy leacherous sons, that roamed at night, + Were human only to the sight; + Their motto was hell's direst fruit: + "Debase the _man_, exhalt the _brute_!" + One man alone of all thy teeming millions sate, + And pondered on thy sin with deathless hate; + His righteous soul was vexed from day to day, + And strove in vain to turn you from your way. + _He_ dwelt among you as a child of God, + And in the path of honored wedlock trod. + _You_, dead to nature and to nature's voice, + Spurned woman and made man your choice! + And desecrated, with your impious lust, + The masterpiece God had formed from dust! + Till woman, shorn of all her natural power, + Was cast aside, like some discarded flower, + And stormed insulted heaven with hourly cry, + Till God beheld you with His searching eye, + And sent His angels in avenging haste + Your sin to punish and your land to waste. + The son of Horan met these at the gate, + And begged them at his frugal board to wait; + At first refused, they after turn aside, + And 'neath a righteous roof content abide. + They share his food and list with eager ear + As Lot recounts each nightly scene of fear; + When lust runs riot in the open streets, + And man with man in strange communion meets. + The men of Sodom learn, with kindling eye, + The stranger's presence, and in haste draw nigh. + Men, young and old, with equal ardor burn, + And, with unholy lust, towards these strangers yearn. + They call the patriarch with an angry shout, + And bid him bring the hallowed strangers out, + That they may satisfy their lawless lust + And trample decency in sinful dust. + He, taught from infancy in Mosaic Law, + Regarded heaven's High Ruler still with awe; + And shuddered with indignant fear + As these vile shouts assailed his ear. + He left his house and closed the door behind, + And to the rabble thus he eased his mind: + "Ye men of Sodom! _once_ in life do right, + Nor do this wickedness in heaven's sight! + Two virgin daughters 'neath my roof reside, + Till now a father's care and mother's pride; + Take them and do whatever you deem right, + But lay no impious hand upon my guests tonight. + The laws of hospitality, by Moses taught, + Harms not a stranger whom our roof has sought. + They know the law, who now reside within, + And with horror view your awful sin!" + "Ye men of Sodom! who this stranger gave + The right to judge us and our will to brave? + We kindly took a homeless wanderer in, + And dare he brand our greatest pleasure sin? + Shall empty words defy our proud behest, + Or useless offering prevent our guest? + Ten thousand 'No's' will pierce his dastard breast, + And treat him tenfold worse than all the rest!" + Thus spake their leader, and with angry roar + The o'er wrought friends assail the door; + Lot, backward hurled, could hardly stand, + Till snatched within by angel hand, + The maddened crowd no longer wait, + But headlong rush to meet their fate! + The ready angels rise, with godlike mind, + And strike the guilty wretches blind: + In vain they strive to reach and force the door, + Their useless orbs are blasted evermore! + "Go seek thy children, Lot, in eager haste, + And bid them not a precious moment waste. + God will destroy this sin-accursed place, + And wipe from earth its faintest trace!" + Lot, thus commanded, found each one that night, + And faithfully portrayed their awful plight; + But he, to them, seemed as a man that mocked, + And left them sorely grieved and doubly shocked. + The morn arose! The angels cautioned Lot + To wife and daughters take and tarry not; + And as they lingered took them by the hand + And led them from the endangered land. + "Flee to the mountains and no hind'rance brook, + Nor backward turn a long, admiring look. + The wretch who dares this mandate to defy + Shall, 'neath Jehovah's hand, in torture die!" + This stern command was heard by trembling Lot + With deep repugnance, for it pleased him not. + "Nay, nay, my lord; but if before thy face + Thy trembling servant dares to plead for grace, + Command me that I now may turn aside + And in your little city safe reside. + Thus may I keep my soul alive this day + Nor after fall to mountain beasts a prey." + The heavenly strangers, with an august nod, + Agree to lift from Zoar Jehovah's rod. + The rescued quartette Zoarward bend, + While hope and fear alternate tend. + With mien majestic, yes, with hasty tread, + Their trembling flight their aged father led. + Next came the virgins, able scarce to stand, + And followed by their mother, last of all the band. + She yet to Sodom and its idols clave, + And dared Jehovah's awful wrath to brave; + One look she sought, her weary journey to beguile, + And in a moment stood transfixed--_a Salty Pile_! + The more obedient trio onward fly, + Until the opening gates of Zoar greet the eye. + Now, with full hearts, they reach the calm retreat, + And cordial welcome from King Bela meet. + +END OF FIRST CANTO. + + +_THE FALL OF SODOM--CANTO SECOND._ + + From Bera's palace, and from Sodom's shrine, + A thousand scintillating rays of beauty shine; + The gorgeous parapets of beaten burnished gold + Enlightened fancy can with awe behold. + Those marble walls of rainbow-tinted hue, + Please and instruct and yet astound the view. + Each curve of beauty and each line of grace + Relates some annal of the ancient place. + Upon these sculptured walls each Sodomite may trace + The birthplace and the lineage of his entire race. + He here may read, in many a flowing line, + The maiden efforts of the Tuneful Nine, + Who first appeared and strung the quivering lyre, + When new created stars their Maker's praise aspire; + Theirs is the music of the quick revolving spheres, + And theirs the power to bathe a world in tears. + They paint in colors, dipped in liquid truth, + The brow of beauty and the lip of youth. + Thought, tame in prose in their enchanting line, + Is dressed in beauty and is half divine. + They wing love's arrows with consumate art, + And make the melting music of the heart. + Youth they instruct and tottering age sustain, + Virtue exalt and hideous voice restrain. + Inside this palace life is but a dream + Of beauty, flowing in a constant stream. + Here silken curtains hang on wires of gold, + And zephyr-satin, whose capacious fold + Ten thousand giddy turns and windings take + The secret chambers of the place to make. + Each article of comfort man can know + With priceless gems and flashing colors glow; + Each drinking vessel is a solid gem; + Each odorous flower grows on a parent stem; + Birds of bright plumage raise their tuneful note + And scatter scents ambrosial as they float. + The crystal fountains generous wine dispense, + And food delicious satisfies the sense; + The air is balmy as the breath of spring, + And every atom is a beauteous thing. + One thing alone this mighty place appalls: + No woman dwells within these sculptured walls. + Here man with man in lustful caprice plays, + And Heaven's righteous mandate disobeys; + Sinks, through his lust, below the groveling beast, + Who to the female makes his amorous suit. + Within those walls are stores of untold wealth, + Secured by carnage and by midnight stealth; + Beneath each divan and each downy couch + The smouldering fires of retribution crouch. + Each glittering tankard and each costly plate + Reflects the fierceness of each pending fate. + The quenchless tortures of Jehovah's wrath + Is earthward tending in a destined path! + The brilliant sun of light, the mighty sire, + Seems bathed in blood and heaven's all afire. + From pole to pole the livid lightnings flash + Till all creation trembles 'neath the crash; + And earthward, still, the melting heavens bend, + While blinding floods of hissing flames descend, + And seas of lava, with three mighty bounds, + The now doomed city and the plain surrounds. + Now, inward flowing, rolls the mighty tide, + On whose dread billows death alone can ride; + And upward rising, with tremendous sweep, + Its molten billows awful union keep + With floods descending from the flaming sky, + And Sodom knows her hour has come to die! + Her frightened millions in a circle band, + And view approaching death on every hand. + Around them rolls a sea of fire; + Above them flames the torch of Heaven's ire; + While hissing lava, in descending rain, + Creates new horror and gives birth to pain. + Each gorgeous palace and each mart of trade + Is buried for their wickedness and in ashes laid. + In vain they call their idols, name by name. + Their garments all are wrapt in living flame, + Their quivering bodies tortured to the bone, + Their parched lips in vain assay a moan, + Their eyes still pleading with each bated breath + _Not_ for forgiveness, but for instant death! + + The circling oceans, with resounding roar, + Meet and commingle--and the scene is o'er! + +[Illustration] + + + + + _A TRIBUTE TO + THE WOLFE SISTERS._ + + + Music, the sweetest all-inspiring gift of God. + Is ever welcome to the prisoner's ear; + There's nothing makes me feel half so well + As music of the heart when sung with cheer. + + Here in this prison as I sit and pore + Over the past and present of my life, + My heart sings ever, o'er and o'er, + The darkest bitterness of a prisoner's strife. + + But hark! in yonder chapel shrine + I hear sweet music as of yore; + I ask, "What music is that sounds so fine?" + The answer comes, "The Wolfes are at the door!" + + I hasten, then, to brush my prison garb, + And toilet try to fix as best I can, + And then unto the chapel wend my way; + When there upon the rostrum stand + _Five of the sweetest singers of our day_! + + There's Amy Wolfe, who changed her name to Brooks; + She leads her choir without the aid of books. + She sings with voice so sweet and delicate + That to her, First Soprano I dedicate. + + Next, Minnie S., at the age of twenty-three, + Sings like a lark and busy as a bee, + Carefully guarding that no mistakes are made, + And handles her bewitching voice with harmony well staid. + + Then sang the sweet Zoraydo F., with baritone most clear, + Who, at the age of twenty, delights to bring us cheer. + It seems as if her heart and soul were bent on doing right, + And when she sang she sang so sweet--Oh! it was out of sight. + + The next I saw was Lyda M., with scarlet cheeks aglow; + She sings with voice most charming, a clear and sweet alto, + She's next the younger of them all, because she's just eighteen, + She captivates the heart of man--what a fairy little Queen! + + Then last, not least, the little one, that is, Miss Kittie C., + She just so busy when she sings she's like a honey bee. + Her eyes are clear as crystal, her locks are flowing gold, + She sings soprano quite as fine as any I have told. + + I sat down in an empty seat close by the outside door, + And listened to such warbling as I never heard before. + Their voices drowned all sorrow and gushed forth many a tear, + _Not_ for horror that I felt--it brought me real good cheer. + + They drove away the pain of woe, that none but prisoners smart; + They sang the ever blessed song--true music of the heart. + We doff our striped caps to you, O girls of sweetest song, + And may we bid you be our friends and return again ere long. + + Adieu, adieu, our lady friends, do not now say "farewell," + Because we wish you all return with song too sweet to tell. + Come back! come back again and sing some lovely Sabbath day, + For your presence here to sing good cheer we all will ever pray. + + And now unto the aged Wolfes please let me say one word: + Your home must be a palace filled with sirenic good; + Proud may you feel--and justly, too--of these five daughters fair, + And great the good they've done for us while in this prison lair. + + There's but one wish that emanates from a prisoner's wicked heart. + That is to say, without delay, "May heaven take their part, + And to them bring eternal joy that'll pierce them like a dart!" + Each song they sing is welcome here--a masterpiece of art! + + And now to part we sadly must (while I'm immersed in prison dust). + But hoping, too, 'twill not be long ere you return with sweetest song. + Adieu! Adieu! + + + + +_PRISONERS._ + + + God pity the wretched prisoners + In their lonely cells today; + Whatever the sins that tripped them, + God pity them still, I say. + + Only a strip of sunshine + Cleft by rusty bars: + Only a patch of azure, + Only a cluster of stars. + + Once they were little children, + And perhaps their wayward feet + Were led by a gentle mother + Toward the golden street. + + Therefore, if in life's forest + They since have lost their way. + Whatever the sins that tripped them, + God pity them still, I say. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_TWO LETTERS._ + +BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. + + + I wrote a letter while jealous rage + In my bosom reigned supreme; + The words were fraught with anger, + And a loathsome disesteem. + + They fell on the pure white paper + And marred its stainless page, + Yet eased my maddened spirit, + And appeased my senseless rage. + + I gloatingly tho't of the dumb despair + That letter would surely give, + To one who had broken her faithful vows + In a way I could never forgive. + + I doubted not the perfect truth + Of all I heard them say; + She, like other girls, was false + While her lover was away. + + I knew she vowed she would be true + While life itself would last, + Yet thought that she, like others, + Too soon forgot the past. + + I hastily sealed the cruel note, + And placed it next my heart, + Determined upon the morrow + To give it an early start. + + I threw myself upon the couch + And sought for sweet repose, + And in my restless slumbers + A vision then arose: + + I saw in that terrible vision + A woman whose eager face + Beamed with yearning, restless love + As her trembling fingers traced + + A message of love and tenderness + To her loved one far away. + As her pure lips quietly murmured, + "God grant we must some day!" + + She sealed her letter with dainty hands, + And laid it by with tender care: + Then humbly kneeled beside her bed, + And poured her soul in prayer. + + She prayed for her impassioned lover + In a warm, impassioned strain, + That proved her heart both warm and true + And free from guilt or stain. + + She arose from her kneeling posture + To answer a call at her door: + She smiled as she saw the letter + The hand of the servant bore. + + One glance she gave--then burst the seal + With trembling, eager haste, + And rapidly heard the cruel words + My reckless hand had traced. + + Her lovely face turned deathly pale + As she wildly clutched the air. + She tottered and fell--a senseless heap-- + A prey to dumb despair. + + So still she lay I deemed her dead, + And sprang to raise her in my arms. + I loved her with the old, wild love, + And bowed to her peerless charms. + + "Speak! darling, speak!" I wildly cried. + "Pray, come back from the voiceless shore. + I cannot, dare not live an hour, + Unless I hear your voice once more!" + + She opened wide her lovely eyes, + And cast on me one lingering glance + So full of injured innocence + It smote me like a lance. + + I seized the heartless letter, + Curst cause of all my shame, + And, with one imprecation, + Consigned it to the flame. + + She watched me with a languid smile, + And pointed to her heart: + "You have destroyed the proof," she said, + "But can you ease the smart?" + + "I have been true to all my vows, + Heaven judge me if I lie! + But since you deem me to be false, + Go--leave me here--to die!" + + At last I woke and quickly drew + The accursed sheet from my breast-- + Burning it with a ready hand-- + And gently sank to rest. + + I wrote another, whose tender words + Were soft as the ripple of a stream; + And thought what a contrast it would be + To the letter she read in my dream! + + And my darling greatly wonders + Why my letters with tenderness teem, + Since I have never told her + Of the letter she read in my dream. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_A PRAYER FOR JUSTICE._ + + + Oh, God in heaven up on high, + How long this cruel strife? + Most I but perish in this den + To end this wretched life? + Is there no justice here on earth? + Must truth remain crushed down + And vile and wicked, cruel man + Forever look and frown? + Is there no power to bring to light + The _truth_ of my offense? + Must perjury and bribery + Prevail forever hence? + Can enemies, vile, cruel things, + Twist truth all out of shape, + And cause one who's not guilty + To morally wear death's crepe? + Oh, God! is there no remedy + For earthly subjects thus + To be relieved from wretched pain + Without this earthly fuss? + Oh, God! to Thee we call for help. + Wil't thou but listen--hear? + Look down upon me as I be, + My innocence thou'lt surely see, + These shackles, bolts, and prison bars, + The heavy locks and massive key-- + Hear, Oh, God! Oh, hear my prayer + And set this captive free. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_BIRTHDAY MUSINGS._ + +BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. + + + Just sixty years ago today + Mine eyes first saw the light; + Now age, with ever onward tread, + Presages coming night. + + Ah! is it night? Or shall it be + That morning's light shall break, + And from my soul such music bring + As earth could never wake? + + Where are the friends of earlier years-- + Sleep they to wake no more? + Or do they walk with joyful tread + Heaven's ever radiant shore? + + If death is but oblivion's gate, + Why younger grows the soul with years? + Whose are the faces that we see + When melts the hearts in tears? + + Oh, whence the strains the soul can hear + When all is hushed in sleep, + And none, save God and angels, near + When souls their vigils keep? + + Is all religion but a myth? + Are all our hopes in vain? + Is heaven affectation's child, + Born of disordered brain? + + Tell me not such bolts and bars + Can keep me from the skies; + I'd sooner deem yon blushing rose + A satyr in disguise. + + + + + _A TRIBUTE TO + THE WOLFE SISTERS._ + +BY GEO W. H. HARRISON. + + + Come. O come, ye radiant sisters, heaven honored "Tuneful Nine." + Smooth my ever rugged numbers and inspire my drooping line. + Aid my muse to tell the story never breathed to mortal ear. + How this sweet angelic chorus happens to be lingering near. + In yon fair and blissful aiden, far beyond the faintest star. + Once the guardian angels slumbered, leaving heaven's gates ajar! + And five wandering seraphs wandered, in their rapid, noiseless flight, + Thro' the gates, whose vaulted arches echoed paeans of delight! + Quick as thought their tireless pinions clave the unresisting air. + Till they reached the _five Wolfe sisters_, maids of form and features + fair, + And within these hearts they lingered, tuning every chord to song. + Till the pathos of their music stilled the ever restless throng! + Earth and heaven stood astonished and Jehovah's love decreed: + "Let them stay! such strains seraphic mortal beings can but heed!" + + Have you heard their wondrous music? Have you felt their sweet control? + If not, friend, you've scarcely sounded half the mysteries of your soul! + Amy, soul-enrapturing artist, sweetly sounds the soft prelude. + And beneath her skilfull fingers every note, with life imbued. + Stills the throng, whose very silence is an encore loud and deep. + And each thought, save that of music, is forgotten or asleep. + Katherine's rich and full suprano, like the Autumn's mellow morn. + Wakes the slumbering soul to action like the practiced huntsman's horn! + Mamie's soft, melodious voice nobly takes the second part. + And the pathos of her music captivates the raptured heart! + Lida's faultless second alto deepens all the noble strain + Till the mind forgets its madness and the heart rejects in pain. + Then Zoraydo's matchless voice sweeps the soul along + Till we know that _perfect music can be breathed in earthly song_! + Hear, O hear the melting music pouring from each heaving breast; + How it wakes the heart to rapture! How it soothes the soul to rest! + + When they sing, such lovely visions seem to rise and grandly float + Like the poet's airy mansions, on the wave of each full note! + Silvery daybreaks brighten slow; sunsets blush on mountain snow! + Moonlight shivers on the open sea; Autumn burns in bush and tree; + Blowing willows bend and sigh; whispering rivers wander by; + Thro' the pines sweep sea-tones soft; sailing birds shout loud aloft; + Strange notes beat the lambent air; visions float divinely fair; + Vanished faces come and go; silenced voices murmur low; + Gentlest memories come and cling, _as we listen and they sing_. + + Oh, repeat the music's tale, "_Love shall perish not nor fail_!" + We forget the fear of death--breathe, in tho't, immortal breath! + We believe in broadening truth; trust the generous creeds of youth; + Feel consoling hopes that climb up to some triumphant clime, + And sweet dreams of splendor bring _as we listen and they sing_! + + Walls of rock and bars of steel we can neither see nor feel; + We forget our dire disgrace; disregard both time and place; + Bid all angry passion sleep and profoundest silence keep! + Hoard the trembling notes that fall like an angel mother's call; + Rise above our low estate and forget the wrongs of fate! + We forgive our mortal foes, source of all our many woes, + And penance itself loses half its sting, _as we listen and they sing_! + + May the God of love and truth give them all the joys of youth; + May the raptures they impart ever thrill each noble heart; + May their ministry of love lead all erring ones above; + May wealth, happiness and joy all their waiting hours employ; + Be their cares both light and few and their pleasures ever new; + And their lives one dream of ease till their "ship comes o'er the seas!" + Let fate oft their presence bring, _and we'll listen while they sing_ + Gentle sisters, take this tribute poured from imprisoned hearts; + You have eased their maddening torture, you have stayed the cruel darts + That remorse and shame have driven deep within each captive soul. + Suffer them your names to graven on fond memory's deathless scroll: + Be assured your seeds of kindness shall not fall on stony ground, + Many of your willing converts have both peace and pardon found! + And, when all your work is ended, you in heaven shall fondly greet + Some whose hearts were first enlightened by your anthems clear and sweet. + + + + +_TO A DEPARTED IDOL._ + +BY G. W. VAX WEIGHS. + + + Thou art not dead, thou art not gone to dust, + No line of all thy loveliness shall fall + To formless ruin, smote by time and thrust + Into the solemn gulf that covers all. + + Thou canst not perish. Tho' the sod + Sink with its violets closer to thy breast, + Tho' by the feet of generations trod + The loadstone crumbles from thy place of rest. + + The marvel of thy beauty cannot die; + The sweetness of thy presence shall not fade; + Earth gave not all the glory of thine eye; + Death cannot smite what earth ne'er made. + + It was not _thine_, that marble forehead pale and cold. + Nor those dumb lips they laid beneath the snow; + Thy heart would throb beneath that passive fold; + _Thy_ hands, for me, that stony clasp forego. + + But _thou_ hast gone. Gone from this dreary land; + Gone from the storms let loose on every hill; + Lured by the sweet persuasion of a band + That leads thee, somewhere, in the distance still. + + Where e'er thou art, I know thou wearest yet + The same bewitching beauty, sanctified + By calmer joy, and touched with soft regret + For him who seeks but cannot reach thy side. + + I keep for thee the living love of old, + And seek thy place in nature, as a child + Whose hand is parted from its playmate's hold + Wanders and cries along a lonesome wild. + + When, in the watches of my heart, I hear + The messages of purer life and know + The footsteps of thy spirit lingering near, + Life's darkness hides the way I fain would go. + + Canst thou not bid the empty realms restore + That form, the symbol of thy heavenly part? + Or in the barren fields of silence pour + That voice, the perfect music of thy heart? + + Oh, once--once bending to my warm and eager lips, + Take back the tender warmth of life from me, + Or let thy kisses cloud with swift eclipse + The light of mine, and give me death with thee. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_ACROSTIC TO WARDEN AND MRS. E. G. COFFIN._ + + + Elijah of old ancient times was a man of many, many minds! + Long did he live in noble deeds, in dealing comfort to men's needs, + In these, our modern, modest days, all men have greatly changed their + ways-- + Jehovah's laws do not control the wickedness of every soul. + All those who know as well as I while on this earth will not decry + He who will bad men reform--Hail, Coffin! who for us was born! + + Godfrey is his second name, and now he reaps most enviable fame: + Our watchword is both day and nights--while o'er him floats the Stars + and Stripes-- + "Do unto us as you would choose, that others do to you and yours!" + Faithful to her life-long trust, a wife, a mother, true and just, + Resolves to help both maid and man and lend an ever helping hand-- + Each day and night they toil and pray for boys and girls to mend their + way, + Yet they do not toil all in vain for the great good done the human + train. + + "Coffin" is a word some shun, for it takes man when on earth he's done + Out to the churchyard laid in clay, for ages sanctioned such a way. + For us poor sinners here in "hell" a Coffin sent makes us feel well, + For often he does ease the pains we feel in both our hearts and brains. + In endless joy may they have peace for kindness they have done to us-- + Not one of us, though cursed with sin, will e'er forget our friends + Coffin. + + +_CANTO SECOND--LAST, BUT NOT LEAST!_ + + Mistress she is of the Coffin shrine, and so it's been for years of time! + In holy wedlock girls and boys have been the idols of their joys! + She bids her Lord Elijah bide a faithful servant by her side, + To aid her with a helping hand to raise poor, wretched, fallen man. + Real sympathy for the prisoner's woe, she seeds of comfort tries to sow + Ere long before it is too late to save poor sinner from his fate; + She "cookies" make, with pearls all set, and puts them in Elijah's hat, + She then does send him on his way, while for the prisoner she does pray. + + Mary silently did keep the watch o'er Christ while he did sleep; + All her _protege_ she will save if her Lord will help her brave + Roaring storms of vice and ire, kindled by a vengeful fire! + You may guess for all the rest, let me say SHE'LL DO HER BEST! + + Coffins, to you let us turn! and all crime forever spurn! + Only aid us in this strife to fight manfully for life. + Father Elijah! Mother Mary! for our welfare do not tarry! + Fear you not! for the good you've done has saved many a fallen one! + In our hearts we oft despair as we linger in this lair-- + Not for long tho' when we've seen--Father Elijah and Mary, his _Queen_! + + + + +_A PRISON VISION._ + +BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. + + + 'Tis midnight in these prison walls, + And even the sentry's muffled tread + Sepulchral sounds, as if he trod + The silent confines of the dead. + + In vain I close my weary eyes, + I cannot sleep tonight; + I hear an angel's rustling wings + Fresh from the realms of light. + + A sacred presence haunts the air, + A messenger from Heaven's own land; + And memory awakes again, + Touched by an angel's wand. + + I seem to hear, deep in my soul, + The music of a heavenly choir, + While each pulsation of my heart + Awakes in me the old desire + + To see once more that lovely form + Death vanished in my arms; + To hear again her melting voice + And revel in her charms. + + To feel the tender, soft caress + Of a loved tho' vanished hand, + And hear from her departed lips + The mysteries of that land + + That lies beyond Time's rugged shore, + To all unknown, save those + Whom angels capture for the skies + At life's uncertain close. + + I muse again, with loving thought, + Of a sinless wife long dead, + And live again our buried past, + By an angel presence led. + + I view again the pleasing scene + Of a school house on the hill, + Where happy scholars daily met, + Whose law was the teacher's will. + + I see again the old armchair + Where the Master daily sat + With watchful eye and helpful hand, + Yet sleepless as a cat. + + I hear again the sleepless hum + Of voices low and sweet, + Of students pouring o'er the books + With wisdom's germs replete. + + Amid that happy, guileless throng, + There was one peerless face + That held in the Master's tender heart + An undisputed place. + + It was a face, O God! how fair! + No words can ever paint; + More fit for heaven than for earth. + It bore the contour of a saint. + + The brow was high and broad and white, + With a radiance all its own; + The cheeks, like lilies dipped in blood, + Were oft as a rose full blown. + + Eyebrows dark and delicately arched, + Were penciled in Nature's play; + The ruby ripeness of her lips + Seemed never to melt away. + + Her lustrous eyes, whose depths were brown, + Yet seemed a darker hue, + Were windows of a spotless soul + That scorned to be untrue. + + Abundant tresses of dark brown hair + That almost swept the ground, + Enveloped as chaste and lovely form + As e'er on earth was found. + + A voice so soft, so sweet, so low + That every accent woke + Sweet notes of blissful melody, + As if an angel spoke. + + None could look upon that face + And deem that aught of earth + Could chill the rapture of a soul + Where sin could know no birth. + + Her mind had wondrous power and scope; + It grasped the sea, the earth, the sky, + And rightly understood and loved + The God who ruled on high. + + Contentment, truth and virtue + Was part of Nature's dower; + Self-sacrifice to her was joy, + And prayer was conscious power. + + While yet a child her spirit soared + Above the things of earth, + And mused with soulful tenderness + On the heaven that gave it birth. + + The teacher's stern, imperious heart + Yearningly worshipped this child, + And 'neath her hallowed influence + Grew tender, warm and mild. + + The haughty heart, that never sought + The plaudits of the world, + Poured its richest tribute + At the feet of this faultless girl. + + The face, that never even blanched + 'mid war's terrific strife, + Grew pale as death the hour he asked + This child to be his wife. + + No word she spake, but simply laid + Her head upon his breast. + He folded her in warm embrace + And knew that he was blest. + + Each lived a life of conscious joy; + Earth seemed a garden fair; + The lover sought earth's fairest flowers + To braid in her shining hair. + + Deeply they drank at the font of love; + Draughts few natures can hold; + The hours were seasons of perfect bliss; + Each moment more precious than gold. + + Days and months flew swiftly by + On the wings of happiness sped, + And two sweet babes were garnered + As the fruit of their marriage bed! + + They neither thought nor dreamed of aught + Save their babes and coming bliss; + They greeted the morn with soft caress + And welcomed night with a kiss. + + Till, thundering on the wings of Time, + Fate dealt the cruel blow + That dashed a home in pieces + And laid a child-wife low. + + The husband pressed her to his breast + And fondly kissed his bride; + But with the parting of that kiss + The sinless child-wife died. + + The kindred angels joyful flew + From the realms of endless day, + And gently wafted her soul above, + But left to us her clay. + + "She is dead! Kiss her and come away. + Your cries and prayers are all in vain, + Your May-Bell is cold, senseless clay; + In heaven above you'll meet again." + + They smoothed her tresses of dark brown hair + Back from her marble forehead fair; + Over her eyes, that oped too much, + They closed the lids with a tender touch. + + They closed with tender touch, that day, + The thin, pale lips where beauty lay; + About her brow and her sweet pale face + They tied her veil and bridal lace; + + Placed on her feet the white silk shoes + That May-Bell for her marriage chose; + Over her bosom crossed her hands; + "Come away," they said, "God understands." + + With bowed heads they left the room, + Still shuddering at its silent gloom; + And naught, save silence, lingered there + Around the corpse of May-Bell Clare. + + But I loved her far too well to dread + The silent, stately, beautiful dead. + I cautiously opened the chamber door + And was alone with my dead once more. + + I kissed her lips, I kissed her cheek, + But 'twas in vain, she could not speak. + I called her names, she loved, awhile, + But she was dead and could not smile. + + And not one passionate whisper of love + Could call her back from her home above. + "Cold lips," I murmured, "breast without breath, + Is there no voice, no language in death?" + + Dull to ear and still to the sense, + Yet to the soul of love intense! + See, I listen with soul, not ear; + What is the secret of dying, my dear? + + Was it the infinite wonder of all + That you could let life's flower fall? + Or was it a greater marvel to feel + The perfect calm o'er agony steal? + + Was the miracle greatest to find how deep + Beyond all dreams sank down that sleep? + Did life roll back its record, my dear, + Showing all past deeds dark and clear? + + Oh, did love, sweet mistress of bliss, + Affrighted, vanish to shun death's kiss? + For radiant ones in the world above + Forget those whom on earth they love? + + Oh, perfect death! Oh, dead most dear, + I hold the breath of my soul to hear! + I listen as deep as fathomless hell, + As high as heaven, nor will you tell! + + There must be pleasure in dying, my sweet, + To make you so placid from head to feet! + I'd tell you, darling, if I were dead + And _your_ hot tears on _my_ cheeks shed, + + I'd speak, though the angel of death had laid + His sword on my lips, their accents to shade. + Not in vain should you, with streaming eyes, + Beg to know Death's chief surprise. + + Oh, foolish world! Oh, precious dead! + Tho' you tell me, who will believe 'twas said? + Who will believe I heard you say + In your own dear, kind familiar way: + + "I can speak now--you listen with soul alone: + To the eyes of your soul _all_ shall be shown. + In this land of infinite bliss + The utmost wonder, dear one, is this: + + "I see and love and kiss you again; + I smile at your triumph over pain; + I know your heart is honest and true; + I'm a guardian angel to you! + + "What a strange, delicious amusement is death! + To live without being, to breathe without breath! + I should laugh did you not cry; + Listen, dear one, love never can die! + + "I am now your heaven-decked bride; + My body and not my love has died! + Dear one, _it_ lies there, I know, + Pale and silent, cold as snow. + + "And you say, 'May-Bell is dead.' + Weeping o'er my silent head! + _I_ can see your falling tears, + Hear your sighs and know your fears! + + "Yet I smile and whisper this: + I am not the clay you kiss; + Cease your tears and let _it_ lie, + It was mine, but 'tis not _I_! + + "Dear one, what the women love + For its silent home, the grave, + Is a garment I have quit, + As a tent no longer fit. + + "'Tis a cage from which, at last, + My enraptured soul has passed. + Love the _inmate_, not the _room_, + Love the _wearer_, not the _plume_! + + "_Love_ my _spirit_, not the _bars_, + That kept your May-Bell from the stars; + Be wise, dear one, and quickly dry + From every tear your laden eye. + + "What you place upon the bier + Is not worth a lover's tear; + 'Tis an empty shell at last, + Out of which the soul has passed. + + "The shell is broken, _it_ lies _there_, + But the _pearl_, the _soul_, is _here_! + 'Tis an earthen jar, whose lid + God sealed when it faintly hid + + "The soul He made to live on high; + The mind that did not, cannot die. + Let the dross be earth's once more, + Since the gold is in His store. + + "God is glorious! God is good! + Now His word is understood! + Life's ceaseless wonder is at an end, + Yet you weep, my erring friend! + + "See, the lover _you_ call dead + To immortal bliss is wed! + Loves and homes you lost, 'tis true, + To such light as shines for you. + + "Yet deep in your inmost soul + You shall feel my sweet control. + I'll be with you every hour, + Commissioned by Almighty Power, + + "To guard each moment of your life + As best befits your angel wife! + At night I'll linger 'round your bed, + With an angel's noiseless tread; + + "And while you, slumbering, dream of me, + I'll be present, love, with thee. + Where e'er you go, where e'er you stray, + I'll be near thee night and day, + + "Guarding you with zealous care, + Pointing out life's every snare, + Chasing every tear away, + Aiding every joy to stay. + + "Chide you when you go astray; + Bless you when you kneel to pray; + Lead you, with an unseen hand, + To view the wonders of a land + + "Where Peace and Love and Perfect Joy + Tongue cannot name, nor peace destroy! + Shall ever bless the happy band, + As radiant 'round the throne they stand! + + "Once there, we'll never part again, + But _time_, and _love_ while God shall reign. + I cannot, _dare not_, say farewell; + Where I am _now_ you, too, shall dwell. + + "I am gone before your face, + A moment's time, a little space. + When you come where I have stepped + You'll greatly wonder why you wept! + + "You'll know by Love Eternal taught + That Heaven is _all_, that earth is naught. + I beg you not to dread sweet death; + 'Tis but the first and faintest breath + + "Of the life that God hath given + To fit immortal souls for heaven! + Be _certain_, darling, _all_ seems love, + Viewed from the higher courts above! + + "The cares and troubles that arise + Will prove sweet blessings in disguise; + They'll waft you to a home above, + Where I'll await your coming, Love!" + + _I_ heard these words and fell on the breast + Of the peerless bride that heaven had dressed. + I yearned for those blissful regions above + With heart overflowed with passionate love. + + My peerless flower, tho' nipped in youth, + Perennial shall bloom in the Garden of Truth! + I see in the distance a roseleaf hand + Beckoning me on to that glorious land. + + Tho' parted on earth we'll meet in the sky, + Where bliss cannot perish, and love cannot die. + Oh, bliss supernal! Oh, rapture complete, + When earth-sundered ones in glory shall meet. + + For years and years I've watched in vain + To see that buried face again; + In vain I've tried, with mortal eyes, + To pierce the mysteries of the skies! + + Oh, sweetheart of the days of yore, + Shall we meet on earth no more? + Shall I languish all alone + Without one sympathetic tone-- + + One glance of love, one word of cheer + From eyes and lips I hold so dear? + Oh, hearken to my piteous cries, + Beloved one, and forsake the skies! + + Oh, listen! Earth-born mortals, see! + My angel bride has come to me! + The self-same face--divinely fair-- + And heaven-set jewels decked her hair. + + Her laughing eye and glowing cheek + Eternal youth and bliss bespeak; + My head is pillowed on her breast, + My brow by her dear hands caressed! + + The dulcet tones of her dear voice + Bids my aching heart rejoice; + She folds me 'neath her dazzling wings, + While all the heart within me sings! + + Oh, list those melting tones of love, + More soft than note of cooing dove! + Oh, hear the words her dear lips speak: + "Death, dear one, is the boon to seek! + + "False are the glittering gems of earth, + Eternity's gold is the gold of worth; + One moment in heaven is worth a life + Spent on earth 'mid care and strife! + + "Death is but the dawn of day, + Destroying naught save worthless clay! + The soul lives on in rapturous bliss + More perfect than a virgin kiss! + + "Oh, dear one, still your haunting fears; + The love, tho' lost, of earlier years + Awaits your coming to the skies, + And o'er you watch with jealous eyes, + + "Lest earth detain you till too late + To enter heaven's wide open gate. + Oh, tarry not on earth too long, + But with me join immortal's song!" + + She spake, and through the vaulted sky, + Beyond the reach of mortal eye, + She wings her rapid noiseless flight + And I am left alone tonight. + + Nay, not alone; for in my soul + I feel a new-born sweet control + That lures me to a higher life, + Which will please an angel wife! + + Farewell, prison blight and bars, + Mine is a home beyond the stars. + Welcome, Death, at any hour, + Since sin has lost her maddening power! + +[Illustration] + + + + +_ACROSTIC TRIBUTE TO + +CAPT. J. S. ACHESON._ + +BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. + + + Just consider, for one moment, all the good this man has done. + On full many a field of battle he the victory hath won; + Swept he with victorious Sherman from Atlanta to the sea, + Ever acting as a soldier, from all fear and malice free; + Proving true in every station, like a soldier tried and true, + He has earned and won the friendship of the boys who wore the blue! + + Since his advent in this prison he has, with impartial mind, + Made it plain that every duty can be done and still be kind. + In his bosom rests no malice towards a single human soul; + 'Tis his study, night and morning, all his passions to control. + He is willing every prisoner should become his honest _friend_, + + And the prisoner's reformation he regards as _law's best trend_: + Crime, he deems is but the fruitage of conditions time can change. + He would lift his fallen brother and no rule of right derange! + Ever ready with the welcome of a smile and word of cheer, + Some may only be respected, but such men are ever dear. + O'er the path of life may Heaven scatter roses at his feet; + None will doubt that every christian shall _his_ face in heaven meet. + + + + +_MY MOTHER._ + +CARR. + + + One bright Sunday morn, as I sat in my cell, + My thoughts to the outside did roam; + The sweet songs of birds, as their notes rose and fell, + Turned my mind to my childhood's dear home. + + Long years they have passed since I saw that dear spot, + But its sweet memories time can ne'er smother; + I can never forget that dear little cot + And the sweet loving smile of my mother. + + In sickness or pain 'twas dear mother that brought + Her sweet self and her charms to allay it; + She learned me a prayer and she lovingly taught + Me to kneel at her knees and to say it. + + God's word she would read, and impress on my mind + The love that's conveyed by that story + Of the Savior, who died that millions might find + Eternal rest in His realms of glory. + + For years she's been dead, and her low, grassy mound + Reminds me that 'neath it lies sleeping + The dear friend of my youth, whose magic, I found, + Could bring smiles to my face e'en when weeping. + + 'Tis thus the dear birds, as they joyfully sing + And chirp happy calls to each other, + Remind me that perhaps they were sent for to bring + A message to me from my mother. + + But, alas! as I think, upon my mind there quickly falls + The thoughts of my sad degredation; + The strong iron bars, and the grey, sombre walls, + Recall me to my sad situation. + + But no more will I sin; I'll live upright for sure; + My passions and temptations I'll smother; + And when God calls me home to that bright shining shore + We'll be happy together, dear mother. + + + + +_A MEMORIAL ODE._ + +BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. + + + Again the sacred day has come + When tears and flowers shall fall + On the graves of our sleeping heroes + Who died at Liberty's call. + + And the tears we shed above them, + As our hearts with tenderness bled, + Is the crown of their matchless glory + And earth's divinest mead. + + Their deeds on the field of battle + Were such as a god might do, + And the listening angels applauded + The work of the boys in blue. + + The flag they died defending + Still floats above their grave, + And is loved by millions of freemen, + But never looked on by a slave. + + The country they loved and bled for, + Still true to her sacred trust, + Will cover their names with glory + And revere their hallowed dust. + + The comrades who still survive them, + Like gold in the furnace tried, + Speak, with tear-dimmed lashes, + Of the gallant boys that died. + + These flowers will fade and perish, + Tho' hallowed by each grave; + But they will live forever + In the hearts of the true and the brave. + + Then let this custom continue + Till tears and flowers shall cease, + And we shall greet the gallant boys + On the shores of endless peace. + + + + +_LINES TO MY CELL._ + + + Oh, silent and mysterious cell, + Could I command thy walls to tell + The secrets they have kept so long, + 'T would be, indeed, a cheerless song. + + A tale of crime, and tears, and pain, + The fruit, perhaps, of frenzied brain, + As none to crime yet ever sank + That had not first become a crank. + + "The law of God and man defy, + A wretch you'll live, a felon die!" + These words seem to haunt my brain, + Perhaps it is the sad refrain + + Of a song well known to thee; + Yet where its author now can be, + Save thee, perhaps no one can tell, + Thou grim, mysterious, silent cell. + + Thy rocky floor has felt the tread + Of many a hapless one now dead; + Thy walls have echoed many a sigh, + Wrung from guilt's expiring eye. + + While musing 'mid thy walls tonight + I seem to hear, with some affright, + The wail of many a blighted life, + The prayer of a despairing wife; + + A mother, weeping for her child; + A father, grief has driven wild. + And then--I pray thee silence keep; + 'Twere best to let thy secrets sleep. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_A TRIBUTE TO DR. G. A. THARP._ + +BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. + + + Arise, my Muse, and tune your harp + To ring the praises of a Tharp; + His cultured mind and noble soul + Truth and virtue both control. + + Tell the world his perfect skill + Can conquer every human ill + That lends to science or to art, + From shattered limb to dormant heart. + + Each pill and potion that he makes + Relieves your pain and health awakes: + And should he use the surgeon's knife, + He never will sacrifice a life. + + His skilfull fingers place a band + As gently as a woman's hand; + And not one patient needs to feel + That he the truth will not reveal. + + The poor regard him as their friend, + And on his bounty oft depend; + Well knowing that his generous heart + Dares to act a christian part! + + Long may this noble doctor live, + Ease to suffering men to give; + And meet the summons to depart + With the skill he wooes his art. + + + + +_AN APPRECIATED FRIEND._ + + + She is a pretty little lass, + Half human, half divine; + And for an angel she would pass + In Heaven's lovely clime. + + Her hair is locks of flowing gold, + Her ways are cute and wise; + And her form is lithe and graceful, + With pretty bright blue eyes. + + Her manners are just perfect. + Her nature kind and true; + She is a real philanthropist + When charity is due. + + She strives to cheer those sad at heart, + And well she does succeed; + And stays the ever painful dart + That often fate does speed. + + How different from so many folk + Who frown upon the one + Who, by some simple words he spoke, + Caused "crime" to have been done. + + Although the cruel knife of fate + Has made an awful wound, + In her kind words, that come but late, + Sweet balm for sorrow's found. + + Oh, that this wicked, wicked world + Could boast more such friendly souls! + Less lives would be so sadly hurled + Into a pit of earthly ghouls, + Where nothing's saved, but all is lost; + + And where man's cast, at any cost, + Into a dismal, prison dell-- + A gloomy, dreary, earthly hell! + + Come, of such friends arise and sing, + With thanks returned to heaven's king! + * * * * * + + + + +_SALOME'S REVENGE._ + + + Arise, my Muse, spread out thy wings, + Prepare to soar away! + Tune up thy harp for endless joy, + And turn night into day. + + Go dream of Paradise sublime + In the old Empire State! + And when you're done return to me + Your story to relate. + + In time gone by--in days of yore-- + There lived, in forests wild, + Two families of ancient stock, + And each one had a child. + + The children of both parentage + Were born in this country; + They amassed immensely fortunes + In this America. + + The Waddington's were pure Scotch blood, + And raised one daughter fair; + They gave her name of Sadie, + She'd blue eyes and golden hair. + + Her cheeks were rich with crimson glow, + Her lips were thin and cute, + And many an anxious lover + She sternly did refute. + + Her dainty hands and flowing hair, + And graceful curves of form + Would make one's heart quite palpitate-- + She carried all by storm. + + Trueman Waddington was a man + Who loved his daughter--heir, + And as he rolled in endless wealth + He watched his child's welfare. + + Their nearest neighbor was St. Lawrence, + Who lived a little way + Off on the rugged mountain side, + Where children like to play. + + Two children he had buried + When they were yet quite young, + And now he was a happy man + 'Cause he reared an only son. + + This son he named him Trueman, + Because he liked the name, + And tho't 'twould be in honor + Of his neighbor of the same. + + "As an act of kindness and of love," + Old Waddington did say, + "Because you named him after me + I pledge my Sade, today." + + The two old friends called in their wives + And asked them to consent + To seal the bargain for each child + On which they were both bent. + + The mothers thought it rather soon + To tie so firm a knot, + And begged them not to seal their doom + By such a foolish plot. + + But Trueman Waddington was not + A man to easy quit, + And he argued long and labored strong + In a half way frenzied fit. + + He said: "I know we are both rich + In lands and kine and gold, + And why not join these vast fortunes + Before they are all sold? + + "You've named your only son from me; + Trueman it is, _True-Man_ he'll be, + And now must I sit by in shame + And cannot seal my daughter's fame?" + + Then spake the elder man St. Lawrence: + "Dear sir, my neighbor and my friend, + You have my heart and soul and mind, + And these vast fortunes I will bind + + "Together with true chords of love. + God help our children find + A part their mothers will not take + In this, to seal their children's fate. + + "Now let me, please, suggest a way + To reach this matter of today; + And we will friendly make the deal + So lawyers cannot break the seal." + + Then Waddington sprang to his feet, + And warmly did his neighbors greet; + Then shook him warmly by the hand, + And said, "Come, let us seal the band." + + And then with fixed and mellow eye + He gazed on high as he stood by + His rugged friend and neighbor, too, + Then St. Lawrence bade him what to do. + + "My dear old friend, sit down, sit down; + 'Tis easy for us now to drown + All obstacles that's in our way + To carry out our plan today." + + Then he proceeded to relate + How easy men in Empire State + Could call in witness to their deed + And satisfy all fortune's creed. + + "Now, look-a-here, my friend St. Lawrence, + You cannot be too quick + To tell me how we'll do all this + And make this bargain stick." + + And then the sage St. Lawrence did say: + "Look here, my friend, here is our way! + I'll make my will of my estate + (And that, you know, is very great,) + + "Unto your fair and lovely child, + If she refrains from being wild, + And when she weds she weds my son, + My noble, brave and kind Trueman. + + "Then you, my friend, reciprocate; + You make your will of this same date, + And seal as I do mine; + Make True, my son, your legatee, + + "And to him give, in simple fee, + Your lands, your goods, your kine, your cash, + All in one grand and mighty crash, + If he your daughter weds." + + The witnesses were duly called; + The wills were then prepared; + The testators did sign their names, + The children they well fared. + + The documents were laid away + In vaults of solid rock; + There safely for the children kept, + Their heritage of stock. + + Years, years rolled on and Trueman grew + To be a handsome man. + He said: "I'm bound to be "M. D." + And do the best I can." + + Sadie, on the other hand, + Grew to be a queen; + And when to college she did go + Trueman there was seen. + + They played at home, when they were young, + Upon the mountain side, + And never once did they mistrust + They'd be both groom and bride. + + When Trueman closed his college course + He off to Gotham went, + To become an adept in his class + While on his mission bent. + + Sadie, on the other hand, + When she had closed her term, + Returned unto her mountain home, + For which she hourly yearned. + + Two years had changed this happy home + To one most sadly grieved; + The mother of this lovely girl + Had sadly been deceived. + + She, down upon her death bed lay, + When in came Sadie one bright day + And gazed upon the shrunken form + Which now had battled life's hard storm. + + Poor Sadie, with a broken heart, + She did the best to take her part; + But long the sickness did not last, + Because her mother now soon passed + + From time into eternity, + Where the human soul is ever free. + Trueman now, in city fashion, + Had let die out his old-time passion + + For rocks and rills and mountain side, + Where dwelt the queen who'd be his bride. + So much for selfish, erring man; + He'll do the best where e'er he can. + + Time, time rolled on, when Sadie's sire, + With renewed youth and boyhood ire, + Took to himself another wife, + And tried anew to live his life. + + The new-made mistress of the home + (Who had no place she called her own) + Was mother of a daughter fair, + With dimpled cheeks and flowing hair. + + The madame's name was Maria; + _Her_ daughter's was Sarah. + She soon was boss of all the house, + And Sadie driven like a mouse + + Into the cold and cheerless world. + Sadie, with a broken heart, + Prayed her father take her part; + But he, with proud and dire disdain, + Forever did refrain. + + Then Sadie, on her mother's grave, + Prayed loud and long for God to save + Her soul from earthly wreck. + Then, with a palpitating heart, + + With one fond look she did depart + To battle hard with broken heart; + While daughter and a second wife + Should all but ruin her young life. + + But father did as fathers do, + When their list of wives have numbered _two_; + He lent his daughter a deaf ear, + For his second wife he then did fear. + + His life was short; he soon became + A victim to a raging pain, + Which soon relieved him from this life + And bore him off from life's hard strife. + + They laid him low beside his wife, + The pride and joy of Sadie's life; + But Sadie knew not of the fate + Her father had so sadly met. + + The new-made widow, without tear, + Prepared to move, within a year, + To far and distant foreign land, + Where neither had a single friend. + + The goods were sold, the stock and kine; + The lands were leased for a long time; + The two, with pockets filled with gold, + Sailed for Paris with joys untold. + + Young Sarah, who was quite a belle, + When in old Paris she did swell + Her wardrobe with both silk and lace, + And numerous paints to ply her face. + + She was the very counterpart-- + Although 'tis strange to say-- + Of pretty _Sadie_ Waddington + In all her dainty ways. + + She spread herself around, about, + In all society's halls, + And never failed, when chance availed, + To attend the stylish balls. + + She was a favorite with them all, + In fact, the Queenly Belle, + And many a suitor's prayer she heard + While on bended knee he fell. + + One evening while on promenade + Within society's halls, + She met a handsome, tall young man + She'd seen at some of the balls. + + When introduced, both their eyes met, + She blushing timidly; + He heard the name, "Miss Waddington," + Then asked most courteously: + + "From what part of America's soil + Do you and your friends hail? + Or have you lived in Paris long? + On what liner did you sail"? + + She said: "I'm Sadie Waddington, + From the city that bears my name; + It borders on the old St. Lawrence, + A river of world-wide fame." + + Then spake the handsome gentleman: + "I, too, am from that place; + And if you are Sadie Waddington, + I ought to know your face." + + Her cheeks grew flushed and flushed again, + As on her he searchingly gazed; + She looked up in his solemn face + And saw he was greatly amazed. + + It was Trueman St. Lawrence she saw, + As she gazed on his beautiful form; + She was more than bewitching in her ways + To capture him all by storm. + + The Doctor went to his hotel + To ponder the matter o'er: + "That's not the Sadie Waddington + I've seen in days of yore." + + His brain was puzzled, his face was flushed. + He was in a frenzied mood; + He could not fathom the mystery + To do the best he could. + + If that's the girl in days of youth + I played with on the mountain side, + Before I leave this old city + I'll make her my darling bride. + + So saying, he sank upon his couch, + And slept in dreams so rich and gay + That loud his servant called and called, + Because 'twas late--far in the day. + + That day he had a trip to make + Unto a neighboring town, + And visited a hospital + Kept by a Doctor Brown. + + In passing from one of the wards, + While in the open door, + He chanced to turn, and looking back + Saw, kneeling on the floor, + + With outstretched arms and pleading eyes, + The girl for years he had not seen; + She'd grown into full womanhood, + She was a perfect fairy Queen. + + "What! what!" he cried, "am I deceived? + If I'm my father's son + That girl I see back yonder + Is _Sadie Waddington_!" + + He hastened back to where she knelt, + And bade her to arise, + And clasped her to his manly breast, + While tears rose in his eyes. + + Then 'tween her sobs and moans and groans + She slowly did relate + How she was driven from her home + Back in the Empire State. + + She told of awful suffering, + Of wandering far and near; + Of the death of father and mother, + To her _all_ that was dear. + + She told him how she had returned + Unto her mountain dome, + And as she was told that all had been sold, + She was left without a home. + + The Doctor stood transfixed with awe; + Listened to her relate + The story of the sale of all, + Back in the Empire State. + + The Doctor said: "My dear Sadie, + It matters not a bit to me + Whether you have lands, or goods, or gold, + I have vast fortunes yet untold. + + "What's mine is yours; 'tis always so, + My father told me long ago, + Before I left the Empire State + And came over here to study late. + + "I offer you my heart and hand, + And pledge to seal it with the band + Of holy wedlock, faithfully. + Now set your heart forever free + + "From labor and the toils of life,-- + Come, say you'll be my darling wife! + I feel a pang about my heart + That pierces like a flashing dart." + + "Oh, True. St. Lawrence! Oh, can it be + That you do really care for me? + I, who have lived by a false name + To hide a step-mother's wicked shame? + + "For five long years my name has been + (As you directly would have seen), + Not Sadie W., as you have known, + But the Sadie changed to plain Salome. + + "The Waddington I changed, also, + For the common name of Van Harlow; + Then among strangers I did seek + For work to do, although 'twas meek. + + "I came across the ocean wide, + As servant to a new-made bride; + She was taken sick and died out here + Before she'd been a bride a year. + + "Since then I've cared for poor and sick, + And cannot leave them now, so quick. + I patients have who _must_ have care + Before _I_ leave for better fare. + + "Now True, my dear, I'll be your own; + I'll make you an ever happy home; + I feel Pa's oft' spoke words are true, + Trueman's your name, _True Man_ are you." + + He pressed her closely to his breast: + To dry her tears he did his best; + Then gently kissed her burning cheeks + And bade her wait but a few weeks. + + The happiest man in all the land + Was True. St. Lawrence, with trembling hand, + Who then returned to his rooms rich, + A restless night to roll and pitch + + Upon a bed of faultless down, + But pains of heart it could not drown. + He lay and mused throughout the night, + 'Cause his future now looked bright. + + _Sarah_ Waddington and her mother + Prepared a party for another. + A gent they wished to entertain, + 'Cause Sarah wished to bear his name. + + "It is to be a swell affair, + So she could safely set her snare + To catch the unsuspecting True, + Because he loves and loves but you." + + So spake the mother to her child, + Who seemed delighted--almost wild-- + To think that she could play her part + Without remorse or pain at heart. + + The time rolled on, and days were spent + In fixing up for the event; + The rich were called from every side + To see Sarah--the would-be bride. + + She sent a most bewitching note + For Dr. 'Lawrence to cast the vote, + Who'd be the Belle of honor, bright, + To bear the graces of the night. + + The Doctor smiled, as he sat down + To answer it, without a frown; + And faithfully he did outline, + In characters most cute and fine: + + "My choice is one, and only one; + And now I've written and 'tis done! + As sure as I'm my father's son, + 'Tis one--fair _Sadie_ Waddington! + + "And now, before it is too late, + There's one request I have to make: + That I be granted then, or sooner, + To be escort to the maid of honor." + + "Your request is at once granted, + And hope we'll become enchanted; + And with your presence'll be elated, + Because, it seems, we are related". + + Fair Sarah, then, did make it known + (Real quietly about her home) + That she and 'Lawrence, raised side by side, + Would soon become both groom and bride. + + Silks and diamonds bought with gold, + Gotten from the kine she'd sold + 'Way back in the Empire State, + Where poor Sadie met her fate. + + Just one week before the eve' + When he Sarah would deceive, + Trueman went to see his love, + Who was pretty as a dove. + + "Sadie," said he, "sweet is revenge! + Let us now your labor change. + The ones who drove you to your fate, + Away back in the Empire State, + + "Are here in Paris this long time, + And live in luxury sublime. + The gold they got from off your kine, + It goes for suppers and for wine. + + "In holy wedlock let us wed, + I'll lead you to a bridal bed; + And then in luxury and state + We'll 'tend the ball ere 'tis too late". + + I'll humble them in dust and shame! + Ah, Sadie, you were not to blame! + _We'll_ make them wish they'd never sold + Your goods and kine for glittering gold! + + "Come, darling, now we'll off today, + The bridal knot to firmly tie. + Then I your graceful swanlike neck + With pearls and rubys will bedeck. + + "I'll trim your lovely graceful form + With richest satin to be worn: + I'll place upon your tapered hand + A solitaire, set in gold band. + + "Your dainty feet encased in kid + Of dainty styles, they're only made + For those who're called the name of Queens, + And bought by those who have vast means. + + "Then to the ball we'll proudly go, + (And who we'll meet I do not know,) + I'll there present to every one + My bride, _true_ Sadie Waddington. + + "The shock, so sudden, will be great; + They'll quail beneath their hearts own hate + Of being there exposed to all; + Oh, won't it be an awful fall? + + "Come, Sadie dear, revenge is sweet! + Now is our chance to get your mete + Which they have held from you so long, + And did you such a cruel wrong." + + Then Sadie spoke: "Trueman, my dear, + There's naught I know for me to fear. + Revenge _is_ sweet, although 'tis queer, + Revenge I get in Paris here." + + They carried out their little plot, + And never skipped a single jot. + The eve was fine, the folk were gay, + And not a thing stood in their way. + + It was quite late when they arrived + At the mansion of the would-be bride. + As soon as Doctor stepped in sight, + Escorting Sadie--his delight-- + + Sarah saw the graceful form + And, with one scream, she left the room, + And fell fainting to the floor. + They gently laid her on the couch + + Before the open door. + Her mother came in haste to see + What all the trouble there could be, + And did not see the Doctor's bride + + Until she was close by her side. + And when she saw it was too late, + She gasped: "Oh, Sarah's met her fate," + Then fell into a deathly state. + + The mother swooned and swooned away + The entire night and most the day; + And then the Doctor came to say, + "Her life is run, she cannot stay!" + + Sadie, with trained and skillful hand, + Nursed Sarah back to conscious-land; + Did faithfully the watchword keep + While often o'er them she did weep. + + And, just before the mother died, + She Sadie called to her bedside + And begged her to full pardon give + For cruel wrong she did receive. + + Sadie, always so good and true, + Said she always thought she knew + That the grand day would surely come + When that great wrong would be undone. + + She granted full, complete pardon + For all the wrongs the dame had done, + And then she spoke kind words of cheer + Into the madam's dying ear. + + With firm-set eyes and drooping chin + The madame grasped and tried to cling + Unto the hand she once did scorn, + And drove from home at break of morn. + + She then was wrapt in eternal death, + And from her soul came not a breath. + In casket pure as driven snow + Unto the churchyard she did go, + + And there was laid beneath the clay + To await Jehovah's Judgment Day. + All lands and goods and gold and kine + She left behind for endless time! + + Poor Sarah! doomed to awful fate, + Her mind was left in ruined state; + In raving madness and in strife + She tried to take our Sadie's life. + + The best physicians in the land + Were summoned forth on every hand + To try and bring her from the strife + Back to the land of happy life. + + Off to an asylum she must go, + 'Cause 'twas not safe to leave her so; + And with good care she might regain + And be relieved from mental pain. + + Salome, our faithful lass and bride, + Resolved to stay by Sarah's side + And help her regain her lost mind, + And comfort for her she would find. + + Nine weeks were spent in mad-house fare, + Salome bestowing tender care + Upon the one who once did face + Salome in all her dire disgrace. + + When Doctor St. Lawrence saw his wife + Was bent on battling for the life + Of one who was once her mad foe, + He said: "All right, it shall be so." + + Salome, she clung unto her charge, + As if she were her dearest friend; + She incurred expenses somewhat large + To treat her patient to the end. + + The Doctor soon began to learn + His bride and wife would never spurn + The one who once her home did take, + And drove her off for mere pride's sake. + + He asked Salome what she would do + In case that Sarah did pull through, + And once again her mind regain + Before they crossed the raging main. + + Salome did quickly make reply, + While glistening tears stood in her eye: + "I'll take her to old Empire State, + Right to the door where I met fate! + + "I'll make her happy, if I can, + And now I'll form my little plan: + We must, dear True, just do our best, + And fix her up in a cosy nest. + + "We will give her a little home + On the beautiful mountain side; + We will find her a handsome lover + Who'll be proud to call her his bride. + + "We will give them all attention + That the best of friends could do; + We will _return good for evil_, + 'Cause my mother taught me so. + + "Let us show that true religion + Is the life we ought to live, + And the ways that Christ rejoiced in + Are the ways to which we cleave. + + "Oh, my husband, dearest Trueman, + I believe in Sarah reigns + The true principle of goodness-- + Let us fan that spark to flames. + + "Can I now secure her safely, + Teach her shun her evil ways + And discard that haughty spirit + That she learned in younger days, + + "I will be the happiest mortal + Ever lived on mother earth, + And will reach that heavenly portal + Only reached by second birth." + + After coaxing, begging, teasing, + Sarah consented for to go + Back across the ocean, raging, + Where her childhood seeds did sow. + + When they reached the harbor safely, + Bag and baggage on the truck, + They cast lots to see what steamer + They would choose for their good luck. + + Doctor got the choice of vessels, + And he quickly did decide + That the City of St. Paris + Should take their _protege_ and his bride. + + Safely in the vessel's cabin, + Housed in cosy stateroom there, + All were ready for the voyage, + And did look for cheerful fare. + + Out upon the briny billows, + Just three days and nights, 'twas said, + When the night was dark and dreary, + Trueman rose from sleepless bed. + + There was something weighed upon him, + Something whispered to beware; + He dressed and went upon the deck + To breathe the crisp sea air. + + He paced and paced the vessel's deck + With long and manly stride; + He went from starboard o'er to port + And back to starboard side. + + He'd been upon the deck some time, + And peered into the gloom + As if them something overawed + And threatened them with doom. + + At last, to port, he spied a fleck, + A dancing on the waves, + And there he plainly saw a deck + Bedecked with pirate knaves. + + The vessel, with a dark-hued hull, + Bore straightway on its course, + When, "_Hard to port! To port! to port!_" + Rang out a voice real coarse. + + The strange boat glided swiftly on, + Like a ghost on phantom wings, + While the crisp sea breeze went dancing past + And through her rigging sings. + + The strange boat slipped along, across + The briny billows white, + And their steamer ploughed and labored hard + Along its renewed flight. + + It was a close and dangerous call, + Because the night was dark; + Had they collided there, on the ocean bare, + They'd went down with their bark. + + The voyage, then, to Gotham + Was stormy and quite rough, + And all agreed, when landed, + That they had quite enough. + + They then all took the railroad train + North, through the Empire State, + And soon were on the mountain side + Where Sadie met her fate. + + The first place Sadie wished to see + Was graves of father and mother, + And tripping lightly from the yard, + She passed out with another. + + That bitter morn, with memories fresh, + When from her home she'd fled, + She was scorned by one _now_ too glad + To lead her on ahead. + + When she approached her mother's grave + The tears rolled thick and fast, + And by her side poor Sarah stood, + With memories of the past + + A fitting through her guilty mind: + And then she spoke at last: + "Oh, Sadie, Sadie, what a blot + Upon my mother's past; + + It stings within my guilty heart, + And would to God I now could part + With half the pain I feel-- + The balm of Christ could scarcely heal." + + She stooped, and silently did press + Her fresh and rosy lips + Upon the little mound of grass + "Beneath--dear mother sleeps." + + Then Sarah, with most tender words, + Pressed Sadie to her breast + And with a fervent, heartfelt plea, + Prayed both them to be blest. + + When they returned unto their home, + Their friendship sealed with silent love, + They could not bear to be alone; + They felt a power from up above. + + Old friends and neighbors, with delight, + Called on the Doctor and his bride, + And there convened, on the first night, + A host of friends who're on their side. + + There's one among them old and gray, + Who'd lived right there for all his life; + 'Tis the elder man and sage, St. Lawrence, + And he smiles upon the Doctor's wife. + + Heir to the Waddington estate, + Sadie reigns the queen of all; + Her friendship for Sarah was great, + And sister her did often call. + + The Doctor chose to spend his life + Upon the handsome mountain side + With Sadie, his true loving wife, + And Father St. Lawrence until he died. + + Time rolled around and months flew by; + Sadie and Sarah, hand in hand, + Sealed by the firmest friendship tie, + Two of the truest in the land. + + There chanced to stroll from distant clime + A bright young man of Sadie's kin; + Came to visit in Summer time, + And Sarah was introduced to him. + + Sadie tried her best to make a match, + And championed well her cause; + Sarah viewed it as a catch + That one very seldom draws. + + Though 'twas but a short acquaintance, + Still the wedding time was fixed; + The intended groom had patience, + 'Cause he felt he was not rich. + + Sadie, sweet as dewy honey, + Wishing that her friends should wed, + Proffered home and lands and money + If the word would just be said. + + "I am heir to all this fortune, + Known as Waddington's estate; + Come, now, Sarah; come, now, Hawthorne, + Join your hearts ere 'tis too late. + + "I will give to you a large farm + Yonder on the mountain side; + I will give you kine and money, + If you'll be my cousin's bride." + + Sarah spake, with dewy eyelids, + To the one she loved so dear: + "Sadie, I am anything but worthy + Of this princely gift, to cheer + + "My poor broken, wicked heart, + After I have been so bad; + You should never take _my_ part, + Since _I_ took that which _you_ had." + + Yet Sadie, true to her own passion, + Promised deed in fee for all, + If Sarah would wed her own cousin, + Ere the Summer ran to Fall. + + So the wedding day was fixed + When the two should be made one, + And their home, as she predicted, + Would be deeded as their own. + + When at last the nuptial greeting + Was received on every hand, + The sage, St. Lawrence, came to their meeting, + The last one left of their quartet band. + + The wedding knot was duly tied, + And the folk were feeling gay; + They were now made happy groom and bride, + Starting out in life's pathway. + + When the ceremony was over, + And the gifts they were bestowing-- + Bridal gifts as sweet as clover-- + Sadie, with her rich hair flowing, + + Called the old 'Squire of the city + That to witness of her signing + The transfer of title fair, + To the land that lay up there; + + When, to her surprise and chagrin, + Father St. Lawrence, with gentle voice, + Told her that she could not bargain, + For she had not even choice. + + "Now, my daughter, not one farthing + Of this vast and rich estate + Has been left unto True's darling, + Now, I tell you, 'tis not too late. + + "All this land you tho't was yours + By inheritance of your blood, + Was bequeathed by your dear father + To one you never thought he would". + + Now, I've brought the Judge of Probate + As an honored guest of _mine_, + That he might reveal the truth, + That it might be writ in rhyme. + + Then, to soothe the disappointment, + The old judge with silvery hair + Drew from 'neath his outer garment, + Two old papers kept with care. + + One was read by him to Sadie, + Where her father had endowed + All his lands, and kine and money + On the one who made her proud. + + When this document was ended, + And was handed to Trueman, + The old sage, St. Lawrence, pretended + That he enjoyed youth again. + + "Read, Judge! read your other paper! + Tell my daughter here the truth; + Tell her what their anxious fathers + Did for them while in their youth." + + When the document was ended, + With tears showering down her face, + Sadie, kisses, sweetly blended, + While she held him in embrace. + + Long their fortunes had been blended + By the signatures alone + Of their fathers in their child days, + As they played around their home. + + "True, my dear; O will you come here? + Sign this deed! Come quick, O do; + Carry out my simple wishes; + Sarah is my friend, so true." + + "Yes, my darling, this with pleasure + I will do, to please you all; + It is my most pleasant leisure + To do bidding at your call." + + So, the deed of gift was given, + And in happiness they'd start; + From that home they'd ne'er be driven, + Life anew to never part. + + There in happiness and comfort + Did they live upon the place + Where the evil of proud passion + Smothered one in dire disgrace. + + Happy was Salome and Trueman + When they saw their _protege_ safe + In the hands of Cousin Hawthorne, + On the Waddington old place. + + Safe within the coils of homelife, + Safe within the cottage walls, + Safely with a trusting husband, + Safe within their friendly calls. + + Thus the vengeance of our Hero + Was full spent to meet her theme; + Yet so different from a Nero, + Because she knew she could redeem. + + Salome's revenge was to her sweet, + 'Cause she'd conquered, not cut down; + Now she feared no one to meet, + Nor would any wear a frown. + + Though some years had been so bitter, + And had fraught such cruel pain; + Now the coldest of the winter + Seemed like flowery beds of green. + + Now, away up on the mountains, + In the well known Empire State, + Sadie Waddington is living + In sweet REVENGE, where she met fate. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_A TRIBUTE TO CAPT. GEORGE W. HESS._ + +BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. + + + Almost a decade thou hast battled with a patriot's band, + Whose first duty is devotion to their native land; + And no comrade but is willing, with a ready mind, + To declare thee brave and loyal to all mankind. + + In thy country's hour of peril, on the battle field, + Thou wert ever more than willing all her rights to shield, + And, with true and loyal purpose, battled for the right, + Till secession's traitorous banner sunk in endless night! + + Duty's path to thee is glory, glory easy won; + For a task so oft repeated is quite easy done; + Yet no one can ever chide, for thy generous heart + Ne'er will crush the poor and helpless with oppression's dart. + + Every prisoner knows and likes thee, for thy friendly ways + Must attract their close attention and excite their praise; + And the few who know thee better, as a man of heart, + Would desire no nobler mission than to take thy part. + + May you live in peace and plenty, happy with your own, + Till Jehovah's love shall gather 'round His august throne + All who, like you, honest comrade, follows heaven's plan + And respects the rules of virtue and the rights of man. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_MY LAWYER._ + + + When grappled in the law's embrace, + Who first betrayed an anxious face + And fain would shield me from disgrace? + My Lawyer. + + Who told me I should not confess, + That he would all my wrongs redress + And set me free from all distress? + My Lawyer. + + When, sick in jail, I senseless lay, + Who took my watch and case away, + Lest prowling thieves on me should prey? + My Lawyer. + + Who to my wealth tenacious clung, + And for me wagged his oily tongue, + And at my foes hot embers flung? + My Lawyer. + + Who told me he was dreadful smart + And knew the law-books all by heart, + And always took his client's part? + My Lawyer. + + Who, in the court, with peerless pride, + My rights affirmed, my guilt denied, + And swore the State's attorney lied? + My Lawyer. + + And when twelve men, in one compound, + For me a guilty verdict found, + Who came to stanch the bleeding wound? + My Lawyer. + + Who said my time within the wall + Would be exceeding brief and small, + The minimum, or none at all? + My Lawyer. + + And when the judge my doom proclaimed, + And three long years of exile named, + Who looked indignant and ashamed? + My Lawyer. + + When, at the sheriff's stern command, + I for the train was told to stand, + Who longest shook and squeezed my hand? + My Lawyer. + + Who, when he had me safe confined, + No more concerned his crafty mind, + Nor was, for me, to grief inclined? + My Lawyer. + + Who closed the mortgage on my lot, + And drove my family from my cot, + And left them homeless on the spot? + My Lawyer. + + Who, when of prison clothes I'm stripped, + And from these walls am homeward shipped, + Will get himself immensely whipped? + My Lawyer. + +[Written by Mr. George Gilbert, who died on the 9th of June, A. D. +1890.] + +[Illustration] + + + + +_A SAD WARNING._ + +BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. + + + In prison cell, at early twilight, + Smoking Foesters "Best Cigar," + Sat a convict, little dreaming + Aught his perfect bliss could mar. + + Round the cell-block, slowly ambling, + Came a "Screw," on mischief bent, + And his wide, expanded nostrils + Quickly inhaled the welcome scent. + + Wave on wave, thro' latticed iron, + Smoky clouds rose thick and high, + And the happy convict murmured: + "Go, ye cloudlets, greet the sky!" + + But the cloudlets, incense laden, + Lingered near the oaken floor, + Till the "Screw," with cat-like motion, + Stood before the smoker's door. + + In the spittoon, charred and sputtering, + Lay the smoker's joy and pride; + And the "Screw," exultant, murmured: + "Stackhouse will _this case_ decide." + + Morning dawned. The "cellar agent" + Bore the trembling wretch away + To a cellar, cold and gloomy, + Where the tools of torture lay. + + Blows and shrieks alternate sounded, + And a voice from near the floor + Murmured: "Stackhouse! MERCY! MERCY!! + P-l-e-a-s-e, sir; _I will smoke no more_!" + + From the cellar, shorn and shaven, + Skulked the cowering "con." away; + And he smokes--but, Oh! how watchful + Is that victim, who can say? + + All ye inmates, take the warning, + Gushing from a brother's heart: + He who smokes within these portals + For the dire offense _may_ smart! + +[Illustration] + + + + +_ACROSTIC TO J. C. LANGENBERGER, CAPTAIN OF THE O. P. NIGHT +WATCH._ + +BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. + + + Just to all men, to all men kind and true; + + Conspicuous as a giant yet comely to the view; + + Loved by all who know him, trusted everywhere; + Always more than willing to ease his fellow's care; + Never harsh or cruel, never false or base; + Going in and coming out among those in disgrace, + Earning from each prisoner's heart the meed of honest praise; + None condemn his actions, none despise his ways; + By his children reverenced, by his wife adored; + Every friend is welcome at his ample board; + Rich in all that makes a _man_, poor alone in hate; + God of Mercy bless the man who nightly guards our fate; + Ever may he fill the post that wisdom has assigned, + Ruling all, as now he does, by strength of heart and mind. + + + + +_SHE LOVES ME YET._ + +BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. + + + Amid the cares and griefs of life, + One precious thought I'll ne'er forget, + I have a fond and faithful wife, + For darling Lulu loves me yet. + + The bitterest pang that earth can give + Can never make my soul regret + The fact that I on earth can live, + While Lulu says she loves me yet. + + The sweetest joy my heart could know + Would prove a diamond yet unset, + Whose radiant light could never glow, + Like this sweet thought, "She loves me yet." + + Should grief deluge my troubled soul + Till every hour some care beset, + I could defy its stern control + While murmuring, "Lulu loves me yet." + + Should every friend I have on earth + Each vow of loyalty forget, + I could survive the cruel blow, + Since darling Lulu loves me yet. + + Should earth with one accord combine, + Sweet Lulu's influence to beset, + It would not change my constant mind, + If I but felt "She loves me yet." + + I care no sweeter boon in life, + Nor will my heart its choice regret; + I only long to meet that wife + Who truly says she loves me yet. + + + + +_ACROSTIC TRIBUTE TO HARRY SMITH._ + +BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS. + + + He is like the god, Appollo, when in days of old + All the hearts of Greece could conquer, yet despised their gold. + Rich in manhood, health and youth, he is ever free + Ready to assist his brother whatsoever his need may be. + You can trust him freely, fully, with your love or gold, + + Since his love of truth and honor never can grow cold. + May he ever do his duty and to all be kind, + It is but the noble hearted who can rule the mind, + Trusting, still, his love of country and his love for man, + He may rest assured Heaven will endorse his plan. + + + + +_THE PHANTOM BOAT._ + +BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. + + + Two lovers once sat dreaming + Of scenes o'ergrown by years; + Sweet Daisy's eyes were eloquent + With girlhood's pleading tears; + Her little hand was lying + Confidingly in mine, + While her silvery voice pleaded: + "Dear one, awake the Nine!" + + "Yes, darling, I will rhyme for you; + What legend shall I drew! + Shall I now fold you in my arms + And, drifting down life's stream, + 'Mid singing birds and nodding flowers, + Pour forth my soul in love-- + In accents soft and tender-- + As the cooing of a dove"? + + Or shall I tell you, dearest one, + Why yonder's rippling stream + First gained the name "Tululah" + In an age that's now a dream? + Well, now, pillow your head upon my breast, + The legend is weird and wild; + I fear me much its harrowing scenes + Will shock, thee, gentle child. + + Will you listen, while we're watching + For the far-famed Phantom Boat? + Perhaps the tale will lead us + To catch the first faint note + Of Tululah's wondrous music + As she floats down this stream, + For, I assure you, darling, + This legend is no dream. + + Where now we sit, in days gone by, + The stealthy panther crept, + And bears and wolves in horrid hordes + Their tireless vigils kept; + Turkey, deer and beaver + Were scattered far and wide, + And here the lordly savage stalked + _In all his pristine pride_; + + The Creeks then ruled this forest, + From Suwanee to the sea;-- + A haughty, bold and cruel race, + Cunning, treacherous, wild and free! + To hunt and fish, and boast and fight + Were the duties of a brave, + While woman--alas! sweet woman + Was but a cowering slave! + + No grant had she to breathe her wrongs + Before the "Council Fire," + Nor dared she utter a single word + To gain her heart's desire, + Until her savage master + First gave her leave to speak; + Nor dared she then to brave his will + Lest he his vengeance wreak! + + Yet ever and anon there rose + A woman, whose proud soul + Ignored those self-created gods + And spurned their base control. + Such was the brave Tululah, + Whose spirit haunts this stream; + In a phantom barge it glides along, + Like a wraith in a troubled dream. + + 'Tis said she haunts this river, + Alone on a misty night, + And that each one who sees her + Is 'palled with strange affright! + And why she haunts this river + Is the burden of my tale, + And none who have a tender heart + But will her fate bewail. + + Tululah was Ocala's child, + To whom the Creeks ascribe + The name of the boldest leader + That ever led their tribe! + A savage of herculean build, + With fierce and restless eye, + His haughty lip deigned not to smile, + And scorned to breathe a sigh! + + Tululah was his pride and joy, + The only thing he loved on earth, + Since she became an orphan + At the fatal hour of birth! + The superstitious savage + Deemed her mother's spirit nigh, + And thought, who harmed an orphan, + By a spirit hand should die! + + She was born, too, "In a Castle," + Gifted with a "second sight;" + Friends of earth, and sea, and air, + At _her_ command would fight. + Her raven locks and soulful eyes, + Her faultless form and peerless face, + And voice of wondrous melody + Awed and charmed her race. + + She reigned an undisputed Queen, + _All_ her mandate must obey; + And even the fierce Ocala + Was obedient to her sway. + Yet even she was powerless + To stay the raging flood + Of tireless, deathless savage hate + That sought the white man's blood. + + Ocala's hatred of the whites + Was known both far and near; + Brave hunters spake his name with awe, + And women in trembling fear! + At last he grew so treacherous + No white man dared come nigh, + Till a trio of gallant hunters + Determined _he should die_! + + They knew 'twas a dangerous mission + On which their steps was bent, + Yet the prayers of honest settlers + Their true hearts courage lent. + As they neared the sleeping village, + Where Ocala awaited his doom, + They flitted like weird spectres + In the silent midnight gloom! + + There, spread before their vision, + Five hundred wigwams lay; + A savage guerdon of defense + For him they sought to slay. + To the silent village center + Our gallant hunters crept, + To the door of the largest wigwam, + Where proud Ocala slept. + + Stepping across the prostrate form + Of the sentinel at the door, + They breathed a prayer for absent ones, + Whom they might see no more. + Three knives flashed in midnight air, + Then fell with a sickening thud, + Ocala, Napoleon of his tribe, + Lay withering in his blood! + + But hark! what means that fierce warhoop, + Resounding loud and clear? + 'Tis the bugle blast that calls each brave + When the paleface foe is near! + Gathering fast in the midnight gloom, + They form "The Circle of Death" + Around the dauntless hunters, + Who stand with bated breath + + Awaiting the savage onslaught, + Determined to sell their lives + To the service of their country + And the freedom of men's wives; + While pitying Heaven aids them + By the darkness of the night, + Since not a star will lend its aid + To guide their foes aright! + + Now facing North, and East, and West, + They meet the savage foes, + Recruiting Charon's army + By every lusty blow; + But still they come in hideous swarms, + Like hounds let loose from hell, + Till, overborne by numbers, + Our bleeding heroes fell! + + All honor to the gallant three, + Twelve braves in silence lay, + With gaping wounds and stony eyes, + To greet returning day! + While yet a score were nursing + Wounds which these heroes gave, + That signed their right to enter + Into an unwept grave! + + Ocala ne'er again would scourge + Their country, far and near, + Nor wring from helpless innocence + An unavailing tear! + His death alone destroyed the boast + And stilled the raging flood + Of senseless pride and passion + That bathed his hands in blood! + + But, alas, for human prowess, + These deeds but roused the ire + Of savage wretches, who now tried + To vent their spleen _with fire_! + Three stakes were now erected + And fagots heaped around, + While painted fiends in human shape + Exultant, sat aground. + + They led the helpless captives forth, + With many a shout and hoot, + And drug them to their awful doom, + Less feeling than a brute! + And first they bound Hugh Cannon, + Whose descendants, love, you know, + I pointed out to you, last Fall, + When we were at the show. + + They bound him to the cruel stake + Before his comrades' eyes, + Then scornfully they bade them mark + "How a paleface coward dies!" + Thank God his captors were deceived, + He smiled amid the flame! + And, with his fast expiring breath, + These words bequeathed to fame: + + "To suffer in a noble cause + Is sweet beyond compare! + These greedy flames that lick my blood + But light a vision fair, + Where heroism and heroes sweep + The still resounding lyre, + Heaven's harmonies have quenched + The tortures of this fire! + + "Tumultuous raptures 'round me roll + Heaven's pearly gates ajar! + My spirit soars on fleshless wing + Beyond the faintest star! + Oh, blissful death; oh, vision fair, + What sweet celestial glories shine, + The loved and lost of earlier years + Are _now_ forever mine!" + + The savage horde in silence stood + And listened as he sang, + While even their untaught eyes could see + He suffered not a pang! + No yell triumphant smote his ear, + Awe silenced every tongue, + And many a heart beat faster + As he his requiem sung. + + Then lionhearted Conway, + Beneath whose eagle eye + Even savage foes once trembled + Was offered up to die! + Defiant still 'mid writhing flames, + He heaped on them his scorn, + And, with true prophetic voice + He doomed their race unborn. + + "Rejoice! rejoice! ye howling fiends, + Distort your hideous face, + Soon the white man's wrath shall sweep + From earth your blood-stained race, + While shining fields and cities fair + Attest the white man's power, + You accursed Creeks shall be + Tradition's useless dower!" + + Now comes your own ancestor, + The gallant, brave McCray, + Who planned this glorious campaign + And led the awful fight. + He was a perfect Hercules, + Cast in Apollo's mould, + With a heart of witching tenderness, + Yet proud and dauntless soul. + + Oft had he visited this tribe, + On peaceful mission bent, + And to many a savage + His kind assistance lent. + Yet little dreamed he, at this hour, + One heart amid that throng + Still beat responsive to his own, + Attuned to love's mad song! + + Yet, as they bound him to the stake + And raised the flaming brand, + The Chief that held it fell a corpse, + Killed by a woman's hand! + And Indian maiden loosed his bands + And raised her voice on high: + "Who harms my paleface lover + By Tululah's hand shall die!" + + Behold, the savage concourse stand, + Transfixed by silent awe, + And gaze upon Ocala's child, + Held sacred by their law! + They feared Ocala's spirit + Might _then_ be hovering nigh; + Nor dared to harm his darling child, + Lest he who harmed her die! + + The Queen, with head and form erect, + Bore McCray undismayed, + And in her _father's_ wigwam + Her wounded lover laid! + Then bending gently o'er him, + Each wound she rightly dress, + And with sweet plaintive melodies + Lured the weary one to rest. + + At dawning light McCray awoke, + His Queen still lingering there; + His eyes bespoke his gratitude, + His lips were moved in prayer + For the lithe and graceful maiden + Whose love he knew to be + Pure as early morning's blush, + Yet deathless as--Eternity! + + Although once failed, his savage foes + Still thirsted for his blood; + The hate within their bosoms + Was as tireless as a flood. + Not daring open violence, + They sought Oneida's craft, + And 'neath the guise of friendship + Gave the lovers a sleeping draught. + + When the mighty god of slumber + Had locked them fast in sleep, + The wily savage entered, + His fearful oath to keep. + They took McCray to the river + In sight of these roaring falls, + Whose sheer descent--two hundred feet-- + The stoutest heart appalls! + + They bound him fast in a frail canoe, + Set adrift 'mid the current's flow, + Believing his life would be dashed out + On the jagged rocks below. + Then, gladly turning homeward, + A ready lie they make + To appease her burning anger + When Tululah shall awake! + + Slowly the doomed man drifted, + Yet faster, at each breath, + The quickening current bore him + To the open gates of death! + Yet still he slept; aye, slept and dreamed + Of the proud Creek's peerless flower + Who, for deathless love of him, + Had braved her nation's power. + + Spurned her murdered siris corpse + And to his murderer clung! + Aye, on the spot that drank his blood, + Love's soothing ditties sung! + Dreamed of the eyes that flashed with fire + When his foeman dared draw nigh, + Yet softened into tenderness + At her lover's faintest sigh. + + Dreams of the hand that sped the dart + That pierced the chieftain's breast, + Yet with such witching tenderness + Could tremble in caress! + Dreams of the heart that proudly braved + A nation's deadly hate, + Yet, at a lover's first command, + Would brook a martyr's fate! + + Dreams of the hour when Tululah, + Who so bravely saved his life, + Shall desert her baffled kinsman + To become a white man's wife! + Dreams how he would love and prize her, + Shielding her with tenderest care, + Spending time, and life, and fortune + But to grant her lightest prayer. + + But his dream is rudely broken, + And his blanched lip loudly calls, + For he hears the well known rumbling + Of this river's awful falls. + Life was sweet, death was so near, + And he so young to die! + No wonder that his trembling lips + Sought mercy from on high. + + He bore ten thousand tortures + With every passing breath, + As he lay bound and helpless, + Gliding swiftly on to death. + He raised his clarion voice + Above the deafening roar; + Great heavens! can a human cry + Reach that resounding shore? + + "Yes! Yes!" a once familiar voice + Calls loudly from that shore, + And a well known trapper woos time + To life and hope once more! + By an effort, born of hope renewed, + McCray sprang to his feet; + The trapper saw, his lariat flew, + His outstretched hands to greet. + + "_Steady!_" the practical huntsman cried: + "Your peril is almost o'er; + Steady, for in a moment + Your foot shall press the shore!" + Then, as he drew the skiff ashore, + He recognized McCray, + But gazed in silent wonder + _For late raven locks were grey_! + + And never, to his dying day, + Would McCray view the place + Where, in suspended agony, + He met death face to face! + He shuddered at an Indian's name, + And soon forgot the Queen, + Who once so bravely saved him + From a nation's senseless spleen. + + He wooed and won a maiden + Whose blue eyes, like your own, + Held within their liquid depths, + Love's nectarine full blown, + And as I press your luscious lips + I praise thee, brave McCray, + Whose dauntless courage gave to me + The girl I hold today! + + Oh, yes; forgive me, darling, + I did almost forget; + But how can mortal silence keep + By such sweet eyes beset? + Grant me the boon of one more kiss + And gaze into my face; + Light fancy by your radiant eyes, + Tululah's fate to trace! + + Still let the pressure of your hand + Chain me in rapture to the earth, + For I must offer thoughts tonight + That ne'er before had birth! + No idle dreamer dares to pierce + The mystery of this stream, + Nor would I dare the bold emprise + Save that your wish I deem + + The highest law my loving heart + Can now or ever know, + And 'neath the witchery of your smile + My raptured numbers glow! + My fancy soars on eager wing, + And will, perhaps, at last, + Gladly at your high behest + Unfold the misty past! + + Tululah slept till evening shades + Had deepened into night, + And woke, alas! to find herself + Bereft of her brave knight. + Her Indian wit soon taught her + Oguchu was to blame, + And hastily she found him, + Her eyes and cheeks aflame! + + "Oguchu knows your mission; + Your paleface lover fled + While Tululah's starlit eyes + Were wandering 'mid the dead. + He is not worthy of your love; + Let my sister choose a mate; + Oguchu's lodge is open, + Will my sister spurn her fate?" + + "My paleface lover is a brave!" + Tululah proudly cried; + "_He_ never fled from friend or foe, + Oguchu, thou hast lied! + Thy double tongue is poison-tipped, + Thy words a coward's dart, + Before I clasp thy loathsome form + Let panthers rend my heart! + + "Speak, coward, speak! where is my brave? + Tululah asks you where; + Speak, lest I summon by a word + The friends of earth and air + To tear your quivering limbs apart, + You lying, treacherous chief. + Speak the truth! you Indian dog, + The night is growing brief!" + + The awestruck chief is conquered, + And tells, with bated breath, + Where last he saw him drifting, + Into the jaws of death! + Tululah heard, and wild despair + Hurled reason from her throne. + Low at her feet the wretches crouched, + Their treachery to atone! + + "Up! Up, you cowards! Up, you knaves! + And lead me to the place. + Tululah's hand shall save him yet + Or curse your coward race! + 'Tis mine to speak; yours, to obey;-- + I am your Virgin Queen:-- + I _swear_ to save my lover + Or _nevermore_ be seen!" + + They led her to the river, + And, pointing to the place, + They stood like criminals abashed + Before the judge's face. + She spurned their pleading counsel, + And, springing in a boat, + She cast the oars from her + And set the skiff afloat! + + Then, as she gazed adown the stream, + Her eyes were all aglow + With that deep yearning passion + Such hearts alone can know. + While sitting in the boat erect, + With an Indian's willowy grace, + She sang in tuneful numbers + A song time can't efface: + + "I am coming, coming, coming, + Slowly drifting down the stream, + While my heart is yearning, yearning + For the idol of love's dream. + + "I have left them--left them--left them! + Farewell, treacherous Indian race; + I can hear him calling, calling, + And I go to seek his face. + + "Now I'm gliding, gliding, gliding! + And I hear the awful roar + Of the waters tumbling, tumbling, + Where no boat will need an oar! + + "Now I'm rushing, rushing, rushing! + And the spray obscures my sight; + The angry waters leaping, leaping, + Chill me with a strange affright. + + "Oh, I see him! see him--see him, + And I welcome death's alarms! + Oh! I'm swiftly falling, falling, + And I spring into his arms!" + + Not a trace of boat or maiden + Could the savage searchers find, + And they fled the spot in terror, + Daring not to look behind! + Nor would they tarry near the river, + But moved their wigwam's far away; + No savage Creek would linger + Near the spot by night and day. + + And tradition says her spirit + May be seen on nights like this, + When the heavy moon, mist-laden, + Greets the river with a kiss! + Not in vain will be our vigil + If Tululah knows tonight + In your precious veins is flowing + Genuine blood of her brave knight! + + Look! Look! 'mid the river's silvery sheen + Tululah's Phantom Boat is seen, + While the air vibrates like a quivering lyre, + Touched by the hands of an angel Choir! + Oh, wondrous music soft and low, + Like rippling streamlets' gentle flow! + Oh, pathos laden, heart refrain, + No mortal lips can breathe that strain! + + Immortal love! not even death + Can damp thy flame or chill thy breath! + Nay, while eternal ages roll, + 'Tis thine to feed the hungry soul + With manna dipped in passion's fire, + True birthright of the heart's desire; + Blest food no mortal lips can take + And fail enrapturing bliss to wake! + + Heaven's corner-stone, earth's chief delight. + Tululah's captive soul tonight + Is but living o'er the dream + Thou didst create beside this stream. + Her hapless fate all must deplore, + Self-sacrificed in days of yore; + And, could Tululah live again, + At least one heart would soothe her pain! + + The legend may be overdrawn, + Yet 'tis not all a dream! + Nor will you ever say again: + "This is no haunted stream!" + Other eyes beside our own + Have seen the Phantom Boat, + And other ears than ours have heard + That wild, weird? music float! + + But, precious little darling, + As I strain thee to my breast, + I am conscious you are weary, + Thus deprived of needful rest. + Let us hasten to thy cottage, + Parting with a lingering kiss; + Little Daisy, then, can slumber + And awake in perfect bliss! + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +_AN INITIAL ACROSTIC._ + + + Hear, O hear the melting music pouring from inspired hearts! + In the race of life they stumbled, victims of temptation's darts. + Ruin's billows them engulfing, all their hopes and joys to blight; + And the scorpion lash of conscience scourges them by day and night! + Man has doomed them to a prison where shame's torrents hourly roll + + Pouring every known affliction on the crushed and bleeding soul! + Every legal right has perished, every social tie is snapped! + Crushing Force is ever present, body mind and soul entrapped! + Kindness is a total stranger, human treatment rarely shown, + + Man _is_ faultless when his fellow for a fault must needs atone! + Can such beings know the rapture Heaven decrees to poet souls? + + Know they where to place the cymbals of the sounding lyre + Never yet has human malice stilled the music of the spheres! + In _the loathesome prison dungeon Heaven the sweetest music hears!_ + Guilt or shame, or human anger, ne'er can fold the poet's wings. + Howsoever deep his anguish, still his heart exultant sings-- + Tunes his lyre, still triumphant, and to you these pages brings! + +[Illustration] + + + + +_ACROSTIC TRIBUTE TO + +DR. H. R. PARKER._ + +BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. + + + He towers above his fellow men, like some grand knight of old. + Endeavoring to right all wrong with spirit bold and free! + No craven fear usurps his soul, no task his spirit quails. + Religion to his soul is _love_, and love no wrong entails! + Ye who love eternal right and wish your fellows well + + Refuse him not the meed of praise--'tis his our aches to quell! + Each heart within these prison walls that tests his wondrous skill + Unites to sing his praises and bless his generous will. + By kindly words he cheers the soul of those whom dread disease + Envelops in her mystic folds and gives each patient ease. + Naught caring for their praise or blame, he steers his course aright, + + Proving duty, well performed, is matchless in its might. + And, tho' but a youth in years, his well instructed mind + Reveals all pathologic truth and practice well combined. + Kindly may the fates decree that he may rise to fame, + Ever free, as he is now, from error and from shame. + Refuse him naught of happiness and bless his honored name! + +[Illustration] + + + + +_LINES TO MY WIFE._ + +BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. + + + Years and years have passed away + Since last we met, my darling wife; + Oft have I felt the tooth of pain + Gnaw at the vitals of my life. + + The brow thy hand has oft caressed + With such sweet, hypnotic power, + The lines of care and grief has traced + And wrinkled, like a withered flower. + + The dark brown locks you loved so well, + Now interspersed with silver thread, + Shows plainly that the march of time + Has left its footprints on my head. + + The deep gray eyes that once could flash + With passion's fire, or melt in love, + Have lost the wanted fires of youth, + Like some poor offcast, limpsy glove. + + Yet in my breast there beats a heart + That never will nor can grow old; + Thy image keeps its pulses warm + With love that never shall grow cold. + + Thy grace and beauty won that heart + Long years ago, when thou wert young: + Thy gentle, generous, faithful care + Has bred a love I cannot tongue. + + Heaven can grant no sweeter bliss, + To crown the evening of my life, + Than Iulu's sweet, enraptured kiss, + When time restores me to my wife. + + + + +_OUT OF THE DEPTHS._ + +BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. + + + In a cell of rock and iron, + Where remorse and shame environ, + Sat a convict sadly dreaming-- + Dreaming of the days of yore. + Dreamed he of a land of flowers + Where, amid Love's smiling bowers, + He had spent such happy hours, + To memory ne'er so sweet before. + And he softly, fondly questioned: + "Shall I know such bliss once more?" + Hope made answer, "_Yes, once more!_" + In a home which love had founded, + Now by grief and care surrounded, + Sat a wife and mother, weeping, + Weeping for her prisoned swain. + Wept she o'er fate's mad endeavor, + That such loving hearts could sever, + With a blow, that seemed to never + Lose its agonizing pain; + And her cry arose to heaven: + "Father, shall we meet again?" + Mercy answered, "Once again." + Ope those doors of latticed iron, + Lift the clouds that now environ; + Faithfulness shall be rewarded-- + Love the victory hath won. + Learn that I, your God, am heeding + Prayers that rise from hearts now bleeding, + And my hand is ever leading, + Tho' the clouds obscure the sun. + Bows my heart in adoration-- + Shall my lips repeat Amen? + Hope and faith repeat! "Amen." + +[Illustration] + + + + +_ELLA REE'S REVENGE._ + + + Beside Saluda's silver stream, + Where flowers nod and poets dream, + A cabin stood, in days gone by, + Whose history should never die. + + Here lived and led a blameless life, + Brave Hayward and his peerless wife, + With three sweet pledges of that love, + Cradled on earth, but born above. + + Surrounding them, on every hand, + Was the Red man's native land. + No paleface, save themselves, ever dared + To live in wild these Indians shared. + + Treacherous alike in peace and war, + The Seminole obeyed no law + Save one he spake with bated breath: + "Traitors shall die a coward's death!" + + The haughty chief who led this tribe, + Fear could not daunt nor favor bribe; + And this lone settler, living here, + Knew white man never dared come near. + + He Caucanoe's heart had won + By a kindness nobly done, + In rescuing from a watery grave + The favorite child of this fierce brave. + + A frail canoe--swamped in mid stream: + A father's cry--a maiden's scream; + A hunter bearing a maid ashore, + A volume writ would tell no more. + + "The land beside this murmuring stream + Thy future home, brave paleface, deem, + And on Caucanoe's word depend, + No Indian dares molest my friend!" + + "Yours 'twas to save Caucanoe's pride, + Mine be it to protect your bride; + If here a future you would seek, + I listen: Let my brother speak." + + "Great Chief! your words, so kind and true, + Fall on my ears like evening dew; + Ere the buds begin to swell + Your brother 'mid your tribe shall dwell." + + So Hayward built, with eager haste, + As best befits a woman's taste, + A cabin palace, reared by art, + Each room as secret as your heart. + + Here they lived and tilled the ground, + The happiest pair for miles around; + The Indians swarmed around their door + With useful gifts to swell their store. + + Caucanoe often sought their door + And played with the children, o'er and o'er. + He brought them many a curious toy, + Their happy childhood to employ. + + The winsome sprite, who sat on his knee, + Pleased him most of the guileless three; + Her limped eyes and golden hair + Caucanoe thought divinely fair. + + As the happy years flew swiftly by, + Beneath Caucanoe's watchful eye, + Paralee grew, with rapid pace, + Into a maid of faultless grace. + + Caucanoe loved this lovely child + With a passion fierce, and deep, and wild, + Yet hopeless, he feared, that love would be, + Since naught could bridge the raging sea + + Of racial and tribal pride, + That lay between them, deep and wide; + And well he knew another's soul + Brooked naught on earth save his control. + + King Ulca's daughter, the proud Ella Ree, + Graceful and lithe as a willow tree, + With eyes and hair like the raven's wing, + And voice as soft as the babbling spring, + + Had sought him for her wigwam brave, + Weeping o'er his late wife's grave; + And well he knew the tears she shed, + By tribal law their bodies wed. + + True love for her he could not feel, + Yet such a fact dared not reveal; + His squaw she was alone in name + And never to his wigwam came. + + Another love, oh, fateful thought! + With direful misery doubly fraught, + Surged and tossed within his soul + Until it spurned his late control. + + At last he sought her much loved side + And begged her to become his bride. + The maiden heard and laughed outright, + And thus let loose the fiends of night + + That of late had lain at rest + Within Caucanoe's savage breast. + Now, naught could stay this rising ire + Save to light the Council Fire. + + At last among his braves he stood, + Like some monarch of the wood; + While burning words flowed from his tongue, + That showed how deep his heart was wrung. + + The Council heard and thus decreed: + "Our land from paleface dogs be freed. + Tomorrow night the proud paleface + Shall rue Caucanoe's late disgrace!" + + "'Tis well," the haughty chief replied; + "Who scorns to be Caucanoe's bride + Shall feel a living flame of fire + Quench the last spark of life's desire!" + + But, ere the morrow's sun had set, + Awakening love brought deep regret. + Love fought the savage till he fell, + And Pity's tears began to well. + + He crept the cabin light within, + And there confessed his double sin. + "'Tis done," he cried, "you shall not die; + The boat is ready; up, and fly! + + "Saluda's stream shall guide you right, + Caucanoe lays to die tonight! + Once you are free, I die content. + Nor deem the blow untimely sent." + + The boat has left the silent shore, + And Hayward tugs at the muffled oar; + The craft sweeps on, like a thing of life, + Impelled by the prayers of a weeping wife. + + Caucanoe stood on the bank hard by, + With heaving breast and tear-dimmed eye, + That proved a hero's soul could rest + In the natural dome of a savage breast. + + The flashing oars in the moonlight pale + Give forth no sound and leave no trail; + Naught is heard save the breath + Of the fleeing ones in their race with death. + + Hark! What means that frightful yell? + 'Tis a cry of triumph, born of hell; + Their savage foe, long under way, + At last have seen their wanted prey. + + They see the foe and wildly fly + The flashing oars, till they almost fly; + "We'll yet be saved," brave Hayward spoke, + But his oars shivered beneath his stroke. + + He sprang to his feet, with ashen face, + And his trusty rifle flew to its place; + A maddening yell from the savage crew + Proved the ball to the mark had straightway flew. + + Six times his trusty rifle spoke; + Each time an Indian skull it broke. + His gallant sons stood near their sire + And reinforced his deadly fire! + + Their doom was sealed. The savage horde + Soon reached their bark and sprang aboard; + Yet scorned they even then to yield, + While strength was left a knife to wield. + + Each one dared a hero's part; + Each knife it sought a savage heart, + Nor did they cease to bathe in gore + Till they sank beneath to rise no more. + + Paralee and her mother lay + To savage hands an early prey; + For neither knew, nor felt they ought, + Of what they did or what they sought, + + Since terror and alarm, too deep, + Had locked their senses all in sleep. + Alas! that they should ever wake: + Returning senses meant the stake. + + Soon homeward with the living dead + The savage horde in triumph sped; + And bore to haunts of Ella Ree + The paleface foe she longed to see. + + Better for Paralee had she died + Amid the battle's raging tide. + "Not wounded tigress in her lair + More dangerous than a jealous fair!" + + Assembled around the Council Fire, + With haughty mien and rising ire, + Each chief was ready to relate + His own exploit or vent his hate. + + Safely bound by cruel thong, + In the center of the throng, + The captives sat in silent dread, + Envying none except the dead. + + "Brothers! the paleface Ella Ree, + Whose words from guile are always free, + Will tell you all you need to know. + Who scorns _her_ words must brave my blow!" + + Thus Ulca spake, then glared around + With a mighty monarch's haughty frown, + "That held his hearers more in awe + Of his dread prowess than his law." + + "Chief! Warriors! Braves in battle tried, + Your blood Saluda's stream has dyed; + Your brothers sleep no more to wake! + Will _you_ sit by nor vengeance take?" + + "A traitor warned the doomed paleface; + Shall _he_ yet live to brave our race? + How the white lily wrought the spell, + Caucanoe, and not I, must tell!" + + "Caucanoe does not fear to die! + 'Twas he that bade the paleface fly; + Let these women now be set free; + Vent your hate alone on me." + + "Paralee I loved, and her alone; + Mine was the fault--let me atone. + Ella Ree, herself, shall light the fire + And chant around my funeral pyre." + + "Loose the captive! Raise the stake! + It shall be thus," brave Ulca spake. + "If love shall brave the cruel flame, + Yon captives go from whence they came." + + In haste they reared the ready stake, + And bade the Chief his place to take. + He lightly stepped in proper place, + A conquering smile upon his face. + + The signal given--a lighted brand-- + Ella Ree raised with trembling hand, + Yet begged Caucanoe not to die, + But to her willing arms to fly. + + Pardon was his, both full and free, + As the proud brave of Ella Ree; + The hated captives should atone + For all blood spilt, and they alone! + + Caucanoe frowned and thus replied: + "If Ella Ree would be my bride, + Let her light the fire and stand + Here beside me, hand in hand." + + Forward she sprang--the torch applied, + Even in death a happy bride! + Saluda's stream is never free + From the dying chant of Ella Ree! + +[Illustration] + + + + +_THE MURDERER'S DREAM._ + + + Ye glittering stars! how fair ye shine tonight. + And, oh, thou modest moon! thy silvery light + Comes streaming through these iron bars before me. + How clear and silent is this lovely night! + How quiet and how bright! + I nothing hear, nor aught can hear + Me when I speak, but stone and iron that I fear; + I, shunned by all, as if alone I'd go to Hell; + I, alone in chains! Ah, me, the cruel spell + That brought me here. Heaven could not cheer me + Within these cursed walls--within this dark and dreary cell, + This gloomy, cold, and solitary Hell. + + And thou, O Time! the only thing that's not my foe-- + O Time! O Time! thou passeth on so slow, + Keeping my soul in terror, in bondage, and in woe; + Was I to blame? I was, they say; they say 'tis so. + Oh, God! will this deep crimson, aye, black stain + My nervous system always strain! + Will my foul crime forever haunt my brain? + Must I live here in earthly fear, and never, never hear + The sweetest voice to me of all, I've heard not for a year? + Must I this torture feel, year after year? + Live, die in Hell, and yet a Paradise so near? + Wilt Thou, Oh, God! wilt Thou not hear? 'Tis I, 'tis I they all do fear. + + Am I to Thee, O Christ, as dead? Thou who sought + The lonely prisoner in his dismal cell, and to him taught + The true and only law to govern man--Thy love, + Which can be only reached by prayer to Thee above? + In this cold and darkened cell, dost Thou reprove + My soul? Dost Thou doom it to endless misery? + Am I so wicked, sinful, that I cannot move + Thy loving kindness, to a slight reprove? + Ah, me, ah, me, 'tis love Thou sayest--love. + Canst I at this late day by full repentance see + The divine, the holy, ever cleansing love In Thee? + Canst Thou be Christ and have no love for me? + + What, can it be that I am lost and'll never know thy bliss? + And for my cruel, wicked crime no joy above all this? + What, world of sin! What, never? Is my destiny Hell? + Is that my cruel sentence because in sin I fell? + Aye, I did fall! Into that dark and fathomless pit, + And now in Hell my soul has fell, and for Hell it is not fit: + Into that misery eternal, where nothing lives but all's infernal-- + Is there my future--is it there? + My thoughts they burn my head, my heart 'twas, ah, 'twas dead-- + But now it lives, and in my breast does burn: + Those pains, and, severe as they were, they flew, yes, flew away, + And being absent for awhile, remorse came in by day. + + Oh, God, Oh, God, I am not fit for this infernal Hell! + Oh, mercy, mercy! my destiny, 'tis here that I must dwell. + Away! away! ye fiery fiends, I am among you now, + O Christ, O Savior of the sinner! To Satan must I bow? + Pray, take me back to earth again, and test me one and all, + And let me live anew my life and see if I will fall. + Test me, test me once again, let me hear the old church bell, + 'Cause now I'm so much steeped in sin that I'm not fit for Hell. + Oh, horrors! horrors! hear the groans of tortured victims there, + Some young, and many are quite old, I know it by their hair! + Poor, poor, poor wretches, see them there, all bleeding and in chains; + I know they realize their fate, because they all have brains. + + Is this the horrid, horrid place my mother taught was Hell? + Oh, see those brutal fiery fiends, they call them "Imps" you know, + And many an one has feared them here, because of sin he'd sown. + Just see the demons of the deep! Just hear their hellish tones! + Then floating back on brimstone air comes mocking, mocking groans. + See, see the devils how they dance, with brimstone torches how they + prance; + What! can it be they look like men and 'stead of hearts they have but sin + And grinning hang around me? Oh, fearful, fearful fire of hell, what can + it be within? + They sneer and stare at me! Go 'way, ye devils cooked in sin and crime! + I'm now in Purgatory waiting for the time + When by the law of a just God I'll be removed from here, + And by the law of Christ divine, of thee I'll have no fear. + + Hark! List! From yonder corner comes loud cries, + Oh, let me hold my aching, bursting head! + They come from some poor wretch that dies, + And many an one may mourn him now as dead. + I see him! I see him! There he is! My murdered victim now + Appears before me. That is him! and to him I must bow. + Oh, his cries, his groans, they haunt me + To the bottom of my wicked heart. Can it be + That I must dwell forever in this wretched misery? + Horrors! See him now reach out his bony hand + To grasp me firmly by the throat and hold me like a band. + Take me, demons, if you please, take me into Hell! + Anything you choose may do--remove me from this cell! + + My soul, my soul, awake! awake! They come! they come! + The devil's come to take--Old Satan, I am thine! + Away my soul will ever roll through torturing, scorching Hell, + And down into the blackest depths my soul is cast pell-mell. + Oh, what a fate for man to meet--speak, Satan! speak, I say! + And with your torturing, devilish deeds--my ruin! no delay! + What dumb! Old Satan, canst thou speak? Look here + And speak thy want! I'm now right crisp and hard in sin and haven't any + fear. + Take me, demons! Take me, quick! I hear the awful knell + Of the roaring, moaning billows, and the bitterness of Hell. + Take me, Satan, take me! as my fate is firmly sealed, + While ye in Hades do wake me, and o'er me the batoon wield. + + What! What! Am I mistaken? Was it only but a dream? + I, still living here on earth--oh, how real it all did seem. + Could I now just one chance have and in mercy be forgiven, + I would have respect for all and send prayers right up to heaven. + When on earth Christ did come to save sinners from their fate, + Any time they'd turn to Him they'd find 'twas not too late. + Holy Savior, heavenly dove, Thou who reigns supreme above! + Though in sin I have been dead, I am saved just by Thy love. + Could I only have good sight, that I could see my sad plight, + I would always to Thee cling, and to Thee cling with my might. + Now, to Thee let me give thanks, 'cause 'twas only a bad dream. + But its horrors to me cling, 'cause so real it all did seem. + +[Illustration] + + + + +_ACROSTIC TRIBUTE TO GOD'S MESSENGERS, CHAPLAIN AND MRS. C. L. WINGET._ + + + Cyprian, the father of the orators' plan, a preacher, a priest and godly + man; + You have been, by the good Lord sent, on the mission your heart is ever + bent. + Passed through trials of life severe, God was good when He sent you here, + Right in the midst of a sweltering gang of sinners, corrupt on every + hand. + I, for one, have watched you keen, and from you haven't an evil deed + seen; + All has been so easy to see that your whole soul's bent on setting us + free-- + Not from earthly, bodily pains, but from our evil, and sin, and shame! + + Lee was the second choice of name, she christened her son for Heavenly + fame. + Each and every day she taught him ever sin to brave, till dear mother she + went down into an early + grave. + Every day and every hour he tries to keep that august dower, and meet + her where there's endless time, in Heaven's pure and holy clime. + + Winget came unto this place to save poor sinners by God's own grace; + In eloquence and heartfelt plea he's prayed for us on bended knee; + Nor has his pleading been in vain, because from us he's driven pain. + "God help the prisoner!" is his prayer, while lingering in this prison + lair; + "Eternal justice may they have while life's hard struggle they do brave!" + "To God be praise! we see His face. God save the prisoner by Thy grace!" + + Susan, his wife and better half, and one of God's own kind, + Upon each bright and sabbath morn she helps the text to find. + She's ever there, in the arm chair, through service and through song, + And with kindly smile she does beguile the prisoners from all wrong. + Nay--let us bow unto you now, thou noble, holy one, and may God speed for + all your need for the good that you have done. + + Gregory is an ancient name, to you it has been given: + Right down deep in your friendly heart is found the truth of Heaven + Each of us prisoners here confined for truth will e'er contend; + Go, search each heart! and then report if truth we'll not defend. + Onward, onward, upward, upward may your labors ever roll; + Reach out for poor fallen sinner, and your work we'll all extol: + Yet 'tis not too late to labor--God will answer, "Aye, extol!" + + "Fair-child" of Heaven's august plan, how comest thou to wed yourself to + Man? + A name is nothing but to designate, but, Oh--how often it does consecrate + In language pure and clear as diamond scale, while thou, Fair-child, we, + every one, do hail! + Real sympathy is not so strong a band as binds fair woman unto haughty + man! + Come, hasten! now thy work be done, 'cause life's short race is almost + run! + He whom thou wed so many years ago has been God's servant faithfully to + do + In words so full of just and holy writ, that in our chapel we do love to + sit. + Love for your duty, kind to all you meet, faithful to your Master's cause + and a smile for all you greet. + Do by us as you have done and never do complain, because the work that + you have done has not been done in vain! + + "Winget" is the name you chose to support the once Fair-child. + In Christian mission go forth God's castles for to build; + Never forget the prisoner close locked in dungeon cell, + Go forth and teach to him The Life of the soul you love so well. + Each hour you spend in Christian work is never thrown away. + The Truth is known! you'll harvests reap in Heaven's golden day! + + + + +_THE MIND IS THE STANDARD OF THE MAN._ + + + In chains and shackles closely bound; + They say I am a prisoner; + Although in this small cell I'm found, + A prisoner I am not. + The door is made of iron bars, + The lock is large and strong, + But my mind soars free, up to the stars, + As if I'd done no wrong. + The mind of man is ever free, + By nature's law itself, + While this wicked, wretched corpus + May be laid upon the shelf. + What of this wretched body? + What care we for this hand? + But there's one thing safe to wager on, + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + They may chain me fast unto the rock, + And bind both hands and feet; + They may keep me far off in the dark, + Where friends I cannot meet; + They may call me vile and wicked wretch, + And murderer and thief; + They may say I am an infidel + And steeped in unbelief; + They may say I'm false and awful bad, + And lend not a helping hand; + They may sow the seed North, East, South, West, + Far, far throughout the land; + They may go right on with falsity + And it publish like a ban, + But there's one thing safe to wager on, + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + If the mind was easy to be read, + And another for to see, + There would prisoner after prisoner + Immediately be set free. + If conscience was as easy known + As another's words to hear, + There would not be half so many men + That society would fear. + But what do people think or care + What's in another's brain, + So long as _they_ can all conceal + The evil in _their_ frame. + There are a few who secretly + Do not conceal their sham, + But there's one thing safe to wager on, + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + If every one was now compelled + To show life in _true_ attire, + They'd cause the picture to be marred + And cast into the fire. + They'd blush with shame to bring to light + Black spots upon their life; + They kick, and squirm, and twist about, + And fight it with a strife. + Where is the man on this vile earth + But what has done some wrong, + And in his mind's concealed it, + Tho' it stings him like a thong? + There ne'er was one except the Christ + Who'd be perfect in the land! + But there's one thing safe to wager on, + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + What if all conscience could be searched + Clear through with cathode rays, + How many would cheerfully submit, + Who'd reached their manhood days? + It might not be the blackest crime + Known to the criminal code, + But can it be sufficiently white + To call it very good? + It may not be so good nor bad, + Nor bad nor good indeed, + But is it plenty good enough + As a standard for a creed? + You may keep it hid in an air-tight box. + With psychological band, + Then, you see, 'tis safe to wager + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + So long as minds cannot be seen + And pictured to the folk, + So long there'll be deceitfulness + Played by the earthly crook. + The modern shylock now, who craves + The sentence of the court, + Is just the man who, many times, + Society he has hurt. + He stands aloof from other folk, + And cries with a loud voice: + "Down, down, with evil and all crime! + Arise, my friends, rejoice!" + But turn on him the cathode rays + And search him, if you can, + You'll be convinced, beyond a doubt, + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + There's many a man who's been misjudged. + And met his doom and fate; + And the truth thereof could ne'er be learned + Until it was too late. + If cathode rays could have been used, + And falsehood put to flight, + There's many a false and trumped up charge + Would be knocked clear out of sight. + If the mind of man could only be, + With this mysterious light, + Just brought out plain on canvas, + In colors clear and bright, + It would spread the truth both far and near, + Just like a marriage ban, + That the rule ordained by nature is + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + Now, when with cathode rays supplied, + You start out for a search, + Just drop around some Sabbath morn + And peep into a church. + If one bald deacon, on his breast, + Wears a diamond bright and clear, + Just shoot cathode across his pate + And see what's buried there. + Then up into the pulpit, + Where the priest all devils dare, + And dart the rays around, about, + And see what's buried there. + Then to the courtroom wend your way, + To where the judges ran, + Then bet your bottom dollar + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + Then down into our Congress halls + Make a dash both bold and free, + And shoot cathode right through them all + And see what you can see. + Then back into the halls of State, + And catch them, one and all, + And learn yourself, beyond a doubt, + How many are there to fall. + Don't be surprised if now you find + Most foul and blackened crimes, + Because they're plotting for the gold, + No matter what the times. + Try and discover, then and there, + The gold bonds, if you can, + And remember, what is true as truth, + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + Then, when you're done with the outside world, + And all of Congress halls, + Return to me and take a walk + Within these dismal walls. + I'll show you men who represent + Each county in this State; + They're all accused of crime, you know, + And sentenced to their fate. + But don't be hasty now to judge + These men you see about; + Fire cathode rays right through their skulls + And you may find a doubt. + Courts, lawyers and prejudiced jurors + Will convict if they can, + But there's one thing safe to wager on, + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + In here you'll find there's many a mind + As free from sin and crime + As congressmen and senators + Who've been there a long time. + Some of these men in here, you see, + They got a little tight, + And broke into a chicken coop, + Because 'twas in the night. + Some men you see as you walk with me + Down through these halls so dreary, + Have, on bended knee, prayed to be free + Until life's become weary. + They have no money, neither friends, + Because they're far behind the van, + But still 'tis safe to wager + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + And now because my enemies + Have chained me tight and fast, + And cruel, heartless, brutal curs + Would hold me to the last-- + Look here! I'll freely now submit, + Turn on your cathode rays + And learn, if now 'tis not too late, + The evil of my ways. + Then go up to that old bribed judge, + And prosecutor, too, + And bring their conscience here by mine + And search all through and through. + Look sharp! And now compare their minds + With this one, if you can, + And then apply the golden rule, + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + Oh, men of science! if you can + Employ the cathode rays + To take the place of jurymen + In those our latter days; + Let not a man upon the bench + To judge another's fate, + Until to cathode he's been sent + To search beneath his pate! + If then you see his mind is free + From prejudice and crime, + And he'll give us all fair justice, + Let him sit there all the time! + But if, upon the other hand, + He won't, although he can, + Then cut him out with the golden rule: + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + How can you, then, a prisoner make, + When his Mind's as free as space? + You may chain his feet, and hands, and neck, + And tightly bind his face, + Do what you please, and as you please, + You cannot help but see-- + That man is man, where e'er he be, + Because his mind is free! + His mind may roam back to his home, + You cannot tie it down, + And folk may look, and scoff, and scowl, + And always wear a frown. + But when of him they a prisoner make, + The mind they never can, + 'Cause God ordained the Golden Rule, + "THAT MIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN." + + + + +_CELL THOUGHTS._ + +BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON. + + + In the headlong rush for the Land of Fame + How many are wrecked on the Isle of Shame. + How few heads wear a glittering crown + In the far-away realm of great renown. + 'Mid the crowded ranks of the legion of greed + How many are crushed 'neath the wheels of need! + + How few ever feel the dainty caress + Of the lingering hand of great success! + In the mad pursuit of the god of gold + What brains are wrecked, what hearts grow cold! + How many will spend their latest day + 'Mid the hurtling waters of Poverty Bay! + + How many are lured by a siren chime + To a double death in the land of Crime! + How few escape, unscarred, within + The winding walks of the maze of sin! + How many that towered above the stars + Now pine and languish behind the bars! + + What a trail of woe a single mistake + Across the page of a life can make! + O, shipwrecked sailor, fix your eye + On the Star of Hope in yonder sky; + Mercy's hand will bring release + And safely lead to the Land of Peace. + + + + +_THE AUTHOR'S FAREWELL._ + + + Gentle reader, this small volume clearly proves that modern man + Can control his erring brothers with a clear enlightened plan. + Ne'er till now have prison printers voiced, unchanged, a convict's tho't! + Is the change with retrogression or with onward progress fraught? + Will this volume change your custom or relieve our horrid pain? + Or shall truth be crushed and bleeding, ever bound in prison chain? + Will you cast your glances backward, gathering age along by age, + Proof that man is wholly brutal when controlled by maddening rage? + View the pen of downy feathers, where men choked and choked to death, + Without power to ask for pardon with their last expiring breath! + See your brother in that river, safely chained to yonder rock, + While his thirst is wildly raging and the waves his tortures mock! + See yon dungeon, dark and dreary, built by human art and skill, + Whose dread mission is to madden any one the _law_ says kill! + Visit to the hapless culprit, as in Pagan jail he lies; + See the jailer pass the hemlock, which he quaffs, and then he dies! + Think of club, of sword and pistol, of the bloody guillotine; + Of the whipcord, knout and gallows of the noted Wolverine; + Of starvation, rack and torture, of the lash and fiery stake, + And then tell me frankly, reader, did these wrongs one virtue wake? + + Tell me frankly, honest reader, can two wrongs create a right? + And is man's inhuman conduct pleasing in Jehovah's sight? + Or do pitying angels shudder, as the cruel lash you ply, + Wondering man can be so brutal and the laws of God defy? + Does not conscience loudly thunder: "Sin is but the fruit of hate, + And who stones a helpless brother most deserves that victim's fate? + Can abuse and brutal treatment purge the sinner of his guilt? + If so, _come_, within my bosom sheath your dagger to the hilt! + Strike, till every erring mortal at your hands has met his fate, + Then sit down and calmly ponder on your awful lonely state! + _You_, perhaps, have been quite _faultless_; _you_, perhaps, no _wrong_ + have done, + If 'tis _true_, my peerless brother, _you're alone beneath the sun_"! + + Do but think! we once were spotless as the babe on mother's knee! + Trace the causes of our downfall with a mind from malice free. + See, on every licensed corner, fiends incarnate hourly sell + Fiery waters of _damnation_, that create _a living hell_! + Women, once as pure as angels, leading heartless lives of shame; + For the trumpery of fashion dealing off both home and name! + Hear men laud the wealthy scoundrel and attempt to clear his ways, + While the poor and honest toiler _none_ with pride or pleasure pays! + See Religion don the garments of all worldly pride and lust, + While the Savior's honest followers are but trampled in the dust! + See the press, with startling headlines, every vice and sin portray + That can sink your moral standard or lead innocence astray! + View the legions of temptation strewn along the path of youth, + See how few do practice virtue, and how few _adore_ the truth! + There! the cause of crime is patent, and our downfall you behold, + To condemn it in a sentence: "_It was women, wine and gold!_" + + If you read this book with caution, you have read _between the lines_, + Learning much the careless reader and the critic ne'er divines! + You have seen the author's purpose was to tell the simple truth, + As a tribute to the prisoner and a warning to our youth. + You have seen mistakes and errors that less haste would quickly mend, + Yet, with all its imperfections, it may prove a useful friend. + And in future I may publish one with less of hasty thought + That may be--God knows the future--with undying issues fraught. + All tried means have proved abortive yet, my friend, there is a plan + That _will_ lift each erring brother _to the standard of a man_! + If I can but live to publish what I _know_ and long to tell, + You _will_ read it and believe it; so, dear reader, _fare-thee-well_! + + + + +_CONCLUSION._ + + + Go, little book, thy destined course pursue! + Collect memorials of the just and true; + And beg of every one who comes thou near + Some token of their friendship and good cheer. + And if by chance some true friends thou should find, + Attach them to thee with both soul and mind; + And if they prove good, faithful friends and true, + To them thou sticketh, as if they loved you-- + Adieu! Adieu! + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES + +-Fixed plain print and interpunctuation errors. + +-Italic text is denoted by _underscores_. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Prison Poetry, by Hiram Peck McKnight + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISON POETRY *** + +***** This file should be named 45674.txt or 45674.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/5/6/7/45674/ + +Produced by Giovanni Fini, Caroluyn Jablonski and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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