. .^-^^vO., ^-^'•"' v^r. ...»* .^''• 0^ \-"?!?r\/- v^*..v.V" 0^ oO-..-^o^ ^^^\^ HASH CHOPPED, SEASONED AND WARMED UP BY Marcus P. TV^heeler Windsor, Wis. take notice ! This "hash" is composed of some rythmical "scraps" — (A mixture of politics, pathos and gall; Sentiment, satire, religion, — perhaps). And I do not advise vou to read it at all! Copyright, 1908, by Marcus P. Wheeler. Published by the Author. Times Print, De Forest, Wis. ]ro])het turned and cursed those children well! (Read Second Kinos. The sequel there you'll see!) Old friend, 'tis true that we are no spring- chickens. Our youth departed forty years ago. (It really seems to beat the very Dickens That we still act so childish, don't you know!) You've often found that Rocky Mountain Tea, Molasses, brimstone, all are useless quite, For when the '^spirit" siezes you, (or me,) We can't resist it! We just— have to write! Now should the students the infection take And youthful rhymers sweep "The Hill" by storm, 'Twere well to call out Brue, Bertrand, or Blake* And use Formaldehyde, Iodoform. But as for us, I fear our case is chronic! (Strict quarantine might help the public some,) But we're not '"licensed" to prescribe a tonic. Or practice medicine, (away from home!) And so if we are blest with business gumption We'll not stock up with drugs of any kind, Keep brimstone, strictly just for home consumption And use it only to ' 'relieve the mind!" April 16, 1903 *Local Health Officer. "The Hill"— High School at De Forest. 15 SUNDAY REFLECTIONS. ("Woe unto him tbrough whom the evil cometh.") A baby tree. Germ of a stately oak! With stem erect, and tiny branches, all Perfect in form, and reaching toward the sky. A season thus it grows; and then, behold! The winter's snow or woodman's careless act, Or hoof of beast, or coney tooth hath marred The symmetry of growth. And evermore A gnarled unsightly trunk and limbs. That oaken tree shall bear! Yet must it- strive To stand again upright, though all attempts But serve to make its form the more grotesque! "For God hath made it so!" And while it lives, Be it for years, or centuries, that tree Will seek to stand erect. And while it lives 'Twill be at best a gnarled and misformed thing! * * * A little child! The germ wherein are all The possibilities, and all restraints Imposed by multitudes of ancestors. An angel mother guards his tender years, A doting father guides his boyish feet; And all his ways are ways of pleasantness. ■X- * * Some fiend in human lorm, or yet perchance A brutish clown of ready wit possessed; — Some ill taught, self a])pointed overseer Of other men's affairs; — or once again Another Eve may do the devil's work And warp, and mar, and scarify his soul Until its glorious symmetry is lost. Leaving a character like those we see About us everywhere. More bad than gqod: 16 "Not worse than other men," but lower far Than were his possibilities in youth. Still shall he strive to stand erect and firm; To reach aloft that he might grasp the hand, Or touch the garment's hem of Him, whose law Still lingers in his heart. l)ut evermore A blemished soul remains! And evermore He strives, — and strives! "For God hath made him so!" November, 1904. KEEP YOUR HAT ON, "My daddy's in the hog yard Where the pigs are getting fat. You can tell which one is daddy Because he wears a hat!" This startling salutation From a boy of two or three Aroused some queer retlections And they still keep haunting me. If you find yourself in company With men of low ideals Where virtue seems a mockery And naught to them appeals Save vice and self indulgence And otlier things like that. You can show the manhood in you, You can always "wear your hat." When we see a nice young fellow — (Such as bummers call a prig) — Who cultivates good morals Though compelled to delve and dig, 17 Who has self respect that holds him Far above the swinish herd,— Most any one will know him Before he says a word. If a girl is self respecting She is sometimes called a prude, (By those who designate a man As "something of a dude";) But we never fail to recognize In woman, or in man. The quality that makes them try To be — just — all — they — can I Should you live beside a frog pond Must you become a frog? If swine are all about you Need you become a hog? I tell you nay! Stand upright! Just set your foot down flat; Uphold the right, oppose the wrong. Folks will know you by your hat! 1905. GOD IS LOVE. Druid, Hindu, Jew, and Christian, each conceives a God of blood. Human sacrifice by Druids, human gore by Ganges' flood, Bullock's blood on Jewish altar, human blood upon the cross! Crude conception of Jehovah! — Is it go' dor is it dross? He who places stars in orbits, moves all things throughout all space, Does He asl?; a bloody tribute from the puny human race? Does it magnify Jehovah when we sing of pardon won Through this sacrifice, this bloodshed, through the murder of God's son? Let us relegate this idea to the era of the savage; To the age of demon worship; to the time of war and ravage. Crucify the sins, and follies; let the songs of bloodshed cease. Picture God as mild and gentle. Then may come the reign of peace. 1904 18 WHO KNOWETH? (Ecclesiastes 3: 21.) THE SPIRIT OF THE MAN. Behold a "Business Man". He runs a bank: Contributes freely to religious wosk; Oft leads in prayer, does not forget to thank The Lord for sending gospel to the Turk. He tells his fellow bankers of the trust And confidence "reposed in men like us To-day". And lol tomorrow he goes "bust": — Pleads guilty; goes to prison; "makes no fuss". But widows, orphans, men with calloused hands Lose all their scanty vsavings by his theft: — A not uncommon case in Christian lands. — "Oh Weil! The man still has a spirit left!" * * * 'THE SPIRIT OF THE BEAST WHICH GOETH DOWNWARD."' A fearful storm descends upon the hills. The shepherd sends the collies far and wide To guide the sheep across the swelling rills, — Our herds must be secure what e'er betide. All have returned, — and still one missing flock! What next? Why forth into the storm, and cold Poor Gyp, a trusty slut of faithful stock. Is sent to bring those stragglers to the fold. 19 Then after many hours, a feeble scratch. Her signal at the door, has roused us up. Gyp staggers forward, as we raise the latch, And in her mouth she bears one new-born pup! — But every sheep is home! Not one is lost. Despite maternal love, maternal pain, Despite the mental agony it cost To leave her babes to die 'mid storm and rain Her sense of duty held her to her task! She gave her life! Gave all she had to give. And never seemed to question, or to ask Why she should suffer, that the sheep might live! Her name will not appear on martyrs' scroll; And we must whisper it beneath our breath. If we would ask about that collie's soul; — And yet?— Poor Gyp was faithful unto death! — ("And I perceive that this also is vanity.") March, 1906 (Note: The above was a literal rendering of two inci- dents related in the same daily paper: and neither is exagger- ated in any particular.) MUDDING BOB IN. (Wisconsin Politics.) We have read "Let a sparrow invade A nest which the swallows have made; They will wall him in fast, and the sparrow at last Repents of the trick he has played." Two country boys, out on a lark, invaded tbe capitol park Were grinding of '^mort", and work of that sort Continues from sunrise till dark. Their attention was caught by the din, and they gazed at tlie work with a grin. Then one of them said with a wag of his bead "They're a muddin' the Gov'ner in!" 1904 30 SUGGESTED BY LfNES ENTtTLED PETER AT THE GATE. A rliynier h;is tokl of a woman and man; (As only a long-winded rhyme maker can); The woman religious, dogmatic, severe; — Had warred against evils surrounding her here. The man was profane; very often he'd choke His wife, with his oaths, and his nicotine smoke. While seeing these faults, she avoided a storm; But labored the harder for public reform. Now, while to the people she made her appeals Her husband was left to prepare his own meals; His mouth was so parched, by the fumes of his pipe That he often would feast on a cucumber ripe. Cigars and tobacco depleted his purse Till a bill from their grocer was met with a curse. In that way they lived; and in this form they died; And both, we are told to St. Peter applied. In the pipe-dreamer's tale, it is said that the man Was sent into heaven, its beauties to scan: — While the woman -reformer was shown down below Where the weather is warm, where they never have snow. Imagine this selfish and stupid old chump With a pipe in his teeth, (or an old cigar stump), — Transplanted to heaven, where virtue, and love. And all we conceive of the brightness above Should burst on his vision, and dazzle his sight! Where right is triumphant because it is, right! I fancy that he would feel quite out of place And a shade of discomfort would steal o'er his face. He would presently ask for permission to go To the "smoking-room", down in the regions below. Or, he'd steal, (if the beautiful gates were ajar). Outside, for a puff at his i)ipe, or cigar! And she? Well! Most likely there's something to do, 21 In the way of reform 'mid that devilish crew Of wilfully ignorant, foolishly bad, Who never made use of the talents they had! Should Peter invite her now, elsewhere to come She would stay where she is, for it seems like her home. * * * Ah! Heaven and hell, are but relative terms! Each soul is a garden. The soil full of germs. No place could be heaven to those who are base. Yet heaven, and hell, are pervading all space. In placing that couple, beyond any doubt St. Peter well knew just what he was about! The husband is now where his swearing must cease. Without his old pipe he will never know peace. And surely, the woman can happiness find In giving old Satan "a piece of her mind"! And, if she reforms him, she possibly can Succeed in reforming a dissolute man! 1905 MANLY MEN. (Sugsesfced by au editorial upliolding boxing bouts.) "The manly man is the need of our day." Pray what is a manly man? Is it one who will light if he can't have his way Regardless of anything others may say? Is it one who excels in his work, or his play, Or in battle is leading the van? Why! This sort of man was the tirst on the list To murder his brother man! (True, Abel was felled by a shillalah twist For Cain was not versed in the use of his list. But he settled his man with a turn of the wrist Quite as well as the pugilist can). Was Caesar the sort of a man that we need? He waded in blood to his knees. But Sitting Bull likewise made prisoners bleed; — The African Chieftain will murder for greed; — There have been just such fellows in every breed Since our ancestors dwelt in the trees! Is the manly man necessarily strong? Well up in the atliletic drill? Nay! Nay! 'Tis the lad who opposes the wrong, Who will follow the right, and keep pushing along Though policy's sirens are singing their song. Or ravens are croaking of ill! King Og, or young Sampson, Goliath of Gath As ANIMALS, score very high. But combating evils that waken his wrath By use of the brain, and the manhood he hath The pigmy scales mountains that lie in his path. Where giants would never come nigh. Is it breaking the nose of a fellow, "in fun". That builds up a manly man? Why! It seems quite as manly to pull out a gun And shoot (with your back toward the lamp, or the sun)- Before your opponent can "pull", or can run. As to "Land on the heart" when you can! Compare grand Abe Lincoln with famous John L.! Marconi, with Nelson, — or Britt! Pasteur, with some trainer with prize lights to sell. Gladstone; — Fitzsimmons! You know very well 'Tis like spanning the space betwixt heaven and hell- Between men, — and wild beasts in a pit! Along with the horrible cannibal feast The scalping, and burning with tire, With the old gladiators, — man against beast; — The duel, and tournament, (swept from the east,) Manhood is asking, — true manhood at least That fisticuffs also retire! 1905 23 LEGS? OR APPENDIX? When Tweedle Diim attended school, his forte lay in apology. He patched up many a broken rule with bits of his mythology. When he arrived at man's estate by going through a college, he Could learnedly expatiate on "spirits" and biology. His native talent seemed to point directly toward theology, But since the clock was out of joint, he dabbled in horology. Restoring health to sickly clocks, was tiresome monotony. He added shaves, electric shocks, and practice of phlebotomy. He drew their circulation out, cured "pursey" men of plethora. His lancet oft removed their gout; his bills would take their breath away! He amputated arms and legs, and won their hearty approbation By standing them on wooden pegs. "He did so love an operation!" Now Tweedle Dee scorns Tweedle Dum. He says no living man can tell How many went to kingdom come, by lancet and by calomel. "We save the limbs" says Tweedle Dee. But ere you know what he's about He'll start an operating bee, and rip your old appendix out. With strychnine, ergotine, and drugs, far, far too numerous to mention He dopes us like potato bugs. (All with benevolent intention.) 80 we to this conclusion come (I think you all agree with me) — There's little odds twixt Tweedle Dum and scientific Tweedle Dee. 24 INFIDELS. Primeval man adored the blaziiig sun Until some ''infidel"" denied that Sol Was tlie suj)reme and only deity. Those ancient races ])racticed solemn rites Wherein a human sacrifice was thought To cool Sol's ire when he became too hot. Sweet Luna's beams are not unbearable Nor "angry" like the beams of blazing Sol. Adoring her they offered sacrifice Of figs, and grapes (with now and then a cat) That she might furnish somewhat better light, And shine, at least, a few hours every night. But I digress,-- Through all the centuries Erroneous ideas, concerning God, Have only given way to clearer thought Because of infidels. — Jesus himself Was crucified by some mistaken Jews. An infidel? To some of their most cherished views. Whoever would advance religious thought Would cast away barbaric tragedy And raise our estimate of God himself Above the crude idea that ''sacrifice Of blood," alone could quench his ire:- — Such is an infidel, deserving of hell fire. Doubting, investigating infidels Have been the salt of earth. To them we owe The demolition of a thousand myths. In their hands no great truth was ever lost, (Cyclonic infidels arouse religious fear But even they, oft make the truth more clear.) 25 The infidels assume no worldly power. They go not forth with ships, and guns, and swords To save mistaken men. But, they refuse Opinions ready made, which may be wrong! The modern infidel, as in the past Would prove all things, and to the truth hold fast. Feb. 2, 1907 TO J. W. OF MONROE, WIS. Zeal to establish something seen by faith Concerning matters far beyond our ken Through ignorance, intolerance and self conceit May sometimes turn the wheels of progress back! Man's happiness does not depend at all Upon his faith in Paine or Ingersoll! Implicit faith in myths gives happiness? Why seek to undermine a happy faith? If unbelief makes you a better man Be glad and joyful in your unbelief But curb the warlike spirit of your pen. (Be not "intolerant" like other men.) p. S.— After listening to a sermon from Luke IV., 2: 16 to 30. Our parson in his morning's sermon, said "The truth will often times create turmoil. — At Nazareth, they from the synagogue Thrust him who came to save the world from sin." If sure you know the truth, beyond a doubt. Being inspired you must spit it out! Feb. 10, 1907 VALENTINE TO THE LEGISLATURE. (Concerniiifj; Capitol Removal.) Windsor wants tlie Capitol! Hip! hip! hip, Hoo-ray! There's lots of room to build it here. We're in the race to stay. If only some Samaritan will introduce tlie bill, We'll easy do the moving act; — it's nearly all down hill! Old Madison is far too dull, and far too dear a city. The hotels charge so high for board, it makes the lobby gritty. We'll guarantee you good brick cheese, with crackers at fair prices And, in a pinch, perhaps, we'd squeeze some lemon juice, on ices. If Token Creek will help us pull and show no mean perversity We'll buy that bluff from Martin Bull, and move the University. The capitol is bound to come! So what's the use of talking? Methinks I see its shining dome, and round its walls am walking. If Oshkosh wants a hospital, — that's something we might give her. Milwaukee needs a brewery, to rectify the river. But when it comes to capitols, consider for one minute How badly they are handicapped, when Windsor says she's in it! Concerning cost, we're not disposed, to haggle o'er the question. W^e guarantee the kind of food, that best promotes digestion. We make the board and prices right, and, if you like, Cass Gilbert Can engineer the whole affair. W^e do not care one, — filbert! 1905. 27 AN APOSTROPHE. O thou most subtle and puissant force Which permeates all space: that leaps Alway from star to star in sportive mood, — Whence, and v\ hat art thou? When thou dost hurtle through the inner earth Strange tremors sieze upon her vitals, chasms Yawn to swallow islands, vineyards, cities. Farms with all their products, life and wealth! Anon dost thou bestir thyself anew. Gird up thy loins for work once more; and then With giant strength from underneath the tide Lift to the light of day a continent, — Or, with thy shoulder mountains topple down! Tornado, hurricane and tidal wave Attest thy mighty power. The earthquake shock And lightning flash, betray thy varied moods. Withal, a mild and gentle force thou art Which condescends to serve a telephone exchange (Where Dago shouts to Russ, or housewife orders Bones for soup): — to spark the gasoline which moves The auto of a crazy scorcher: to blow The bellows of the smith, to light our streets And wagon tires weld: yea, even to aid The minions of the law, in their sad task Of forcing criminals to shuffle ofl' The mortal coil without the aid of hemp! Without thee, motion would be lost. The universe collapse, all life become extinct; The seismograph, barometer, and weather man Of less account than vainest vanity! We meet thy handiwork at every turn And know in part, thy power for good or ill. Thy breath can sunder mighty hills, or light The firefly's fitful lamp at eventide, Obliterate a blazing star or multiply bacteria! We fain would learn thy habits, seek thy home, Thy origin discover. But dare not touch Thy garment's lieni, (without a pair of mits)! Busy thou art, by day and night, in earth And throughout space! A tireless fiendish Princiide art thou, and yet to man beneficent. We know a little of thy wondrous ways And call thee many names. But who can search thee out Or stand before thy face? Onetiaming beam of glory from thine eye Can smite us dead: to come into thy presence Is to be absorbed! thou most subtle Omnipresent force, whence, and what Art thou? 1907. EXPLETIVES. A poor heathen man in the province of Wind Was somewhat afflicted with vice He averaged well with the rest of mankind. Yet in language was not always nice. For however well he behaved, when in church. At a soiree, a concert, or ball; His temper would oftentimes make a bad lurch. It would rise, and thus cause him, to fall! Under great jjrovocation, when something went wrong. If a toe, or a linger he'd jam The song he would sing was not Solomon's song! (It sounded more like "Rot-ter-dam"!) His wife many years, had implored of this man To omit all those left-handed prayers From orations delivered whenever he ran In the dark, against footstools or chairs. It grieved her good heart, for she thought it a sin As well as degrading and low: So by all proper means she endeavored to win And keep him in ways he should go. To Epworth, and prayer meeting, any good place Where "Amsterdams" never should come, She quietly led him, that contact with grace Might work an improvement at home. 'Tis well known that such meetings of every kind Gather tribute from all who will give For the purpose of opening eyes of the blind. And to teach other folks how to live. They consecrate money, and effort, and life To "sending the gospel away"; — (And sometimes it happened this man and his wife Saw them "sending it" day after day I) At a Young People's Meeting, one sister arose And exclaimed "For our Savior and King We are asked for ten dollars! I do not suppose We are doing one — single blamed thing!" Had you seen the scared look on that heathen man's face! And the gloom, on the brow of his wife! That a lady could swear so! And in such a place! — (Let us hope it reformed him for life.) 1906 G. A. R. LIMERICKS. Our Comrade The Reverend Tits worth Says "a pension costs far more than it's worth". His soul must be vex't by selecting a text And preaching salvation "two bits worth!" A Comrade with patriotism Is unable to feel rheumatism. And even to mention the matter of "pension" Is a scandalous Grand Army Schism! 1904 SPORT. Just now I spied a flock of geese As southward they were flying. Reminding me of boyhood days When I was always trying To get a shot at anything That came my way upon the wing. The fowling piece, and rifle too Stood always handy by. Although I scarcely hoped to kill I would up and "let her fly". Oh! In those days 'twas royal fun To tramp about with dog and gun! I climbed on board a railroad car One bleak November day; — Went hunting after larger game In a somewhat larger way. (The hunters were freighted on boxes and flats In the days I went hunting for Democrats!) For I hunted them not as Bryan would hunt Nor Cleveland nor yet like Hearst. I was trying to kill those Democrats, (If they did not kill me first.) Most horribly brutal it now appears. Yet I followed the pastime several years. Such tramping about, from year unto year With haversack, blanket and gun Is not the picnic it seems to appear To sportsmen who kill just for fun, — Though it adds some zest to one's bloody thirst To know that his quarry may kill him first! 31 Each year I see an army of men Proceed to the woods or the lakes For a chance to shoot at a prairie hen Or bombard the ducks and the drakes. They hie to the glades where the wild deer scoots (And sometimes return, with big snakes in their boots.) But for me, I will hunt never more However the geese may be quacking! Not because I'm decrepid and sore Or that energy seems to be lacking: — But, the other side of such sport I see, Since I hunted Democrats, and, They- Hunted — Me! APPEAL OF THE HEATHEN. Prince Massaquoi, in Africa appeals to all mankind To spare his people from those sins, to which we are inclined. His subjects learn to drink, and chew, and marry, very much! It likewise grieves his princely heart to hear them swear in Dutch! "They often swear in English too." (This must be somewhat better For nothing sliocks one quite so bad as "Him-mel! Tonnerwetter!") The prince relates how some poor man, who cannot raise the price And buy enough to make him drunk, (like white men who are "nice") Wiil rub some beer upon his head, that friends may be surprised. When tliey discover by the "smell", that he is civilized! If angels see us they must weep, and demons laugh with glee When we go sailing o'er the deep "to set the heathen free!" With guns and powder, beer and rum, licentiousness and "trade" — An open door is all we ask: a fortune soon is made. Alas! Alas! Poor heathen prince! How vain is your "appeal To conscience of all Christendom"! 'Tis something quite unreal! Veneered we are, with decency, which makes our sins more rank. We serve all heathen childlike men, as "Cassie" served a bank. In vice and sin you'll soon be sunk, like our enlightened races. We'll pick your pockets, while you're drunk, with sanctimonious faces. We'll sell you bibles, beer and rum, a telephone or clock. But CONSCIENCES, are out of date: we haven't them in stock! In vain are such appeals, dear prince; they never bring relief. You'll have to "take your medicine," like Lo the Indian chief. 1905 HEATHEN? OR CHRISTIAN? There lived a man, whose quiet deeds of love, Of charity, and neighborly good will Employed bis waking hours. Yet was he not A weakling on the world's great battlelield Where vice, intemperance and bestial sin Assail our country's youth. But ever he By calm persuasion, and by logic clear. Endeavored to lead men to Godly ways. He died. A little circle of his friends, will keep his memory green. Another man. Ambitious, daring, and to rashness brave: Because to conquer worlds, and legions lead, Was not to him vouchsafed, he must perforce Make war in other fashion 'gainst mankind. 33 (A robber he, with hand against all men.) And in this form he died. His mad exploits Are read by young and old! And captain Kidd, Dick Turpin, Jesse James, La Fitte, and Rhodes Are characters historic evermore! * * * Some Islanders for centuries had lived Protected by the seas from war's alarms. Were far advanced in all the peaceful arts. Their poets sang, their sculptors wrought and carved, Their painters made the living canvas speak! The calm philosophy their sages taught Was filled with maxims wise; wherein there lay The germ of true religion, — still, heathen! At length came ships from far-off foreign shores And, finding here a peaceful happy horde Of honest self-supporting islanders, — By art, cajolery, and by force of arms Compelled exchanges: (commerce called) — And intercourse with all the outside world. — Now, since those erstwhile peaceful heretics Are shedding blood, and slaying fellow men We call them "civilized"! Yea even more! Some say "They're almost Christian people" too! Enthusiasts declare — "The reign of peace. The cause of Christ, is making rapid strides!" What do they mean? I'm sure I cannot tell. And what are we? Oli! Christians, every one! 1904 34 ^ COMITY OF NATIONS. You doiii»tles8 know how Justice Phelps insulted England lately? (Forgetting that the lion's whel])s as "scribes" are very stately.) An "auto scorcher" broke the law and acted somewhat cranky. His honor failed the line to draw, between John Bull and Yankee. He dealt out justice, good and hard, to Secretary Gurney, Who paid his fine, and left his card, pursuing then his journey. But Justice Phelps, right sudden found that members of legations Defy the law, on foreign ground! That's comity of nations! If Justice Phelps had kept in line, deliberated gravely; Had not at once imposed the fine and dealt out justice bravely: Perhaps he'd reach the Supreme Bench or Senate of our nation. But having raised so great a stench for him there's no salvation. This lesson we should bear in mind. The members of legations Have left their manhood all behind, they are simply "foreign nations" And should they kill, or maim, or shoot, consider with solemnity; No law, no cane, no gun, no boot! but merely an indemnity! Let your complaint at once be sent (wrapped up in tape and flannels) To our puissant president! (Of course through pro])er channels;) Then after lots of pretty talk with hy-phen-a-ted phrases The culprit has to take a walk among the wilted daisies. Good magistrates! Be not too fast; what though we're all on nettles? Some old decision of the past each present question settles. Or should we need him, in a pinch when things are too distressing We'll seek the court of old Judge Lynch to settle matters pressing. But you must not decide too quick! Remember the condition. Those great "immunes" are now so thick you are in a bad position. When e'er you send a tramp to jail for extra l)ug-juice-ol-ogy, To make things safe, pray do not fail to forward an "apology!" 1904 35 AN INCIDENT. There lived a man, in other land and days, Whose destiny untoward ills beset. In youth lie labored, and in many ways Contrived to lull ambition, and himself forget For other's sake. And while he delved, and waited. Behold; '*The other's" ships came in full freighted! And he rejoiced to see their snowy sails. And envied not, nor heaved one useless sigh. His course of life was hxed; ambition fails. With youthful hopes, and aspirations high; And he still plodded on in modest avocation. Nor sighed for wealth, for glory, or for lofty station. Perchance some fleeting thoughts of youthful dreams Would cross his mind, while musing on the past. But soon dismissed those evanescent gleams Of vanished sunshine, — rainbows of the past; For his had been a school wherein all find That he who will, may grind, and grind, and grind! Came past "the other", sailing high on fortune's tide, And hailed the toiler in his humble sphere. "What! Ho! My friend! The world is very wide: 'Tis strange that thou art ever plodding here! Arouse thyself! Why hast thou slept so long? Up and be doing! Join the passing throng!" And though his sky was dark enough before. His fortunes low, his future in eclipse; — The taunting words an added poignance bore From memory of days w hen those same lips Had murmured softly "Do not leave me, brother! You know I love you better than all other!" Mayhap 'twas well that so the die was cast, That all his youthful hopes were crucitied: — For oft successful life, will at the last, Bring disappointment, and woes multiplied: — But when those unjust taunts assailed his ears He who could welcome death, — shed bitter, bitter tears! 19(» IF. If I were a boy with a chance in the world To do, and to dare, and succeed, — I'd not fill my system with whiskies, or malt. Or the vapors of any old weed I When you see other felloM's, quite gone to the bad. And condemn them for acting the fool. Just remember what practice and training they had In the nicotine — lager beer — school! If I were a girl, and alone in the world, I would toil in the fields, or I'd beg Before I would marry a human cigar — Or bottle, — or lager-beer keg! When you see other women whose faces are sad, Whose husbands are seltish old chumps Just consider the habits which make people bad! And the value of old cigar stumps! If I were a foolish and insolent boor With respect for no person, or place; — Like others, I'd probably spit on the floor And stupidly smoke in your face. Should I marry a wife who could live upon smoke. We need have no family jars; No flour, no sugar, no meat, wood or coke. Just fine-cut, and beer, — and cigars! 1904 37 THE PITY OF IT. Today I met a friend. A total wreck! A pipe, a bottle, and a deck of cards The only things that seem to him worth while. And he was once a clean-faced manly boy, With self-respect, and aspirations high, • And noble impulse. Intellectual strength Of no mean quality. His mother's pride, His father's hope, the friend of all he met. And now! An Ishmaelite, a wanderer With only memories of follies past And certainty of folly yet to come. To till his waking hours with vain regret! And how has he thus fallen? Woman's hand That urged the social glass, first broke the way. The smoker, club, and bar-room! Later on Saloons and brothels, gambling hells of course, And all the other tields where young men go To sow wild oats, by him were cultivated. * -x- -x- I did not ask him of his worldly wealth Of money, lands; or whether he possessed Enough to save him from a pauper's grave; For, had he Croesus' w ealth, or even more It would not recompense him, for his loss Of high ideals, of character and self-respect Thus sacriliced. But, truth to tell, I fear That even avarice was quenched, by fumes Of beer, tobacco juice and whiskey slings With their accessories: so that my friend, Like many more we see, has given all And naught received for service of the devil. Yet, thousands still are hurrying along To tread the paths of vice, to sow wild oats Grow prematurely old, to "die while yet they live", Because they fail to recognize these truths; 38 That Heaven, and Hell, are all about us here; That living wholesome lives, is serving God; That he who thus serves God, has saved himself And done his best to save his fellow men. So, like my old time friend they go the way Which leads to rottenness, and dead men's bones! Is it not a thousand pities? December, 1905 A WIRELESS MESSAGE. Dear Heart of Gold; where'er thou art For thee today my soul is torn! Unbidden tears forever start; — The world seems shabby, old and worn. I seek the babbling noisy throng To deaden sense of constant pain. — Amid the echoes of a song I hear — "She may not come again!" I know that all with thee is well. Sweet peace and rest, are ever thine Beyond the power of words to tell; — And yet, — and yet, I still repine. — I hasten on my daily round While robins chant a sweet refrain; But every sight, and every sound Reminds me, thou'lt not come again! When evening falls, and stars are bright, I seem to see thee at the door; The darkness conies, and morning light. But thou, dear heart, wilt come no more! On every side, where'er I go Each trifle seems to speak thy name. A book, a flower, or sunset glow Tbe warning ever seems tbe same. But little girl, I waft you this A message from my inmost soul, Where'er tliou art, is love and bliss And I am hastening toward that goal. This wireless message, writ in tears By him who hears the sad refrain Forever sounding in his ears — '^She never may return again!" Sometimes our faith seems almost dead. Too blind to penetrate the gloom Which so obscures the fountain head And all, within "the other room." But this I know, dear Heart of Gold, This world is blest by such as thee; And though all faith were dead and cold, Where'er thou art, there would I be! July 28, 1907 ENVIRONMENT. I knew a plant from southern clime Which lived, and grew, 'mid frost and cold. Its leaves endured the chilling rime, The roots still sought a firmer hold; And yet no blossoms would appear Though it survived from year to year. I said "Poor thing! I sympathize, For both of us seem out of place. You long for sun and balmy skies, Your southern origin I trace. While I? Well — on some other sphere I might be good? — But we are here!" 1903 40 THE CAT DOTH PUY AND AFTER SLAY. But recently a tragedy occurred Before my very eyes. A life was quenched. The vital spark went out in endless night. A spirit lost its own identity. Became once more a portion of the whole Unmeasureable, unfathomable, illimitable sea of vital force. A tiny mouse had wandered forth for food, And pussy, likewise seeking daily bread. With sudden spring caught him beneath her paw. Then, carefully conveyed him to the place of sacrifice, There to pursue with feline strategy The savage torture of her helpless prey. His efforts to escape, his helplessness. The agony of blasted hopes, the pain Of disappointment. Now and then a gleam Of joyful hope, followed by blank despair. Just when he nearly reached his goal Those velvet paws would seize him once again, Convey him as before to open ground And drop him there. As if to say "The world is all before you, mousie dear! Go forth, be happy, see now, you are free To choose your course, to stay or go." And he, 41 Being a free-will mouse, or seeming one, Would make another dash for liberty, As though he thought the struggle and the pain Were tender mercies dealt out for his good. Whatever was the sentiment aroused In mousie's brain, I could not fail to see The parallel between his plight and mine. For, whether it be fate or providence In whom I trust; or whether I believe This thing or that; whether I pray or mock, Whatever I may do or think or say, Imagine or conceive, "the destiny That shapes our ends" is grinding on for aye! Let it be all in kindness meant, the will Of God who doeth all things well, or fate. Relentless, unseen, inexorable. That leads us on or holds us back, whate'er Encourages or thwarts man's dearest hopes. Sooner or later must the curtain fall, The vise-like jaws close fast, — the finish come. * * * Therefore I wonder if my brother mouse Believes the cat is well disposed toward him? 'Twould surely reconcile him to his fate And comfort him immensely could he feel That every buffet from his feline fate Is blessing in disguise, howe'er it hurts! But while I ruminate the tragedy occurs: The mouse is not! — The universe is moved As by a sparrow's fall; and I plod on Such time as, — something, may permit; Then, like that other atom, be absorbed. Meantime, 'tis quite consoling just to think That all is well if only we believe. Oct. 10, 1906 42 STUDENTS IN OTHER LANDS. (Snuivested 1>v the cover of a tiv«-cent tablet.) Upon my tablet cover, there appears A priest of Burmah with his class of boys; Also a printed slip, a short account Of Buddhist monks who teach the Burmese youth, The faith of Buddha. His philosophy, The way to everlasting progress here Is mainly taught by them. The rudiments Of branches we consider the mainstay Suffice for those whose aim is perfect life. Surely I see a wondrous harmony In this with Him who gave the golden rule. And strange to say, the simple Burmese priest Is clothed like John the Baptist. Round his loins, A girdle holds his robe in place, — a bowl Wherein the faithful throw their offerings, An axe, a fan, needle and water cup. And nothing more! Oh, let us all arise And throw our dimes and dollars in a pool To send salvation to those simple souls Who live so like the man of Galilee. While we, through Christian ethics, have advanced. Built monuments to Mammon, Moloch, Baal, Bacchus, Gambrinus and our other gods, Those simple folk are still so densely dark. They have no pockets in their pantaloons! No aspiration to be millionaires And give to foreign missions one per cent. They merely try to make the life on earth As useful and as perfect as may be. Alas, poor souls! They do not seem to grasp The meaning of the sermon on the mount! To us is giyen the true and only light Which leads to fortune and to bank accounts; To higher ideals, higher salaries; 43 Big book concerns, and missionaries! When we have overcome the Christian's drink, Cast out the beams that blind our Christian eyes Then may we see, perchance, those Buddhist monks Are true disciples of the prince of peace. 1905 MERRY CHRISTMAS. O let us be merry, and sing the glad song! For merriment keeps us from ways that are wrong. The man of sad countenance leaneth toward guilt (Let us crack a few chestnuts, to show how we're built!) Last month we were thankful; for cash in the banks, And for bankers, who spend it in riotous pranks: For franchises, telephones, trolleys, and trusts, (For each bubble that floats till it finally "busts".) And now when our evenings are growing so long That work time is short, it is time for a song. A Te Deum Laudamus! Hip! Hip! Hoo-ray For a man who so kindly turned night into day! Our ancestors used an old candle at night Till John D. arose and said "Let there be light" (For The Lord did not know all the stores in His cellar Until after the advent of John Rockefeller!) John saw how the people abhor competition — He gave them a "re-bate," which changed the condition. (Had John been a Chinaman, Hindu, or Turk He would not have known how to make the thing work) Merry Christmas reminds us of all that we owe, — (In the way of salvation from darkness and woe.) To the christianized nations; that love one another So much that they mangle and murder their "brother". Just look at us nowl With the largest of guns And warships (with "burthen" of millions of tons)!- The largest embezzlers the world ever knew And Shylocks who discount that historic Jew. Distilleries, breweries, dives and saloons; With drugs to make Christians as crazy as loons And all kinds of devilment ever contrived! — But, "Joy to the world" for The Lord has arrived! Mohammedans never can reach our condition: Those pagan teetotalers have prohibition! — Our civilization is certainly "It"! (If you hint otherwise, you may give us a fit.) Be merry! Teach heathen men how to get "tight"; To gamble, to traffic, to read and to fight. Since we are "enlightened" now let us shed light! Above all, be merry! 'Tis Christmas! Good night, 1906 WATCH MEETING REFLEaiONS. (December 31. 1906, 11:30 P. M.) The calendar states that the present year Expires some minutes 23ast eleven. — Father Time (like the stork) is hovering near To usher in "Nineteen — ought — seven." Such events have transpired so often before This scarcely produces a ripple In circles where parties have laid in their store Of postage stamps, hard coal and tipple. Tonight, as I stir up the genial coke A remarkable change I can see Since the nights when I sat by the camp fire smoke In the winter of "sixty-three"! Vermont pine stumps, and maple logs Wisconsin green burr-oak, 45 Hard coal or soft, the peat from the bogs Dry buffalo-chips, or coke; — Kerosene, gasoline, alcohol too, Natural gas, and hay, — (In a pinch either one of these will do On a blustering winter's day.) But green wood smoke is a cold, damp, thing. (As vile as a pipe, or cigar). And nobody sits by the smoke to, — sing! (Except in the time of war.) * * * (11:50 P. M.) A few more ticks of the clock, "and then"? Why! Some people's rent will be due. Some one may write with a pencil, or pen, "A Happy New Year to you!" We shall see that the moon in its orbit revolves. That the sun remains in heaven: That many will register high resolves In nineteen hundred and seven. Many now living, will die of course; Some who are single will marry; Several women will ask for divorce From husbands who raise the "Old Harry". And days will go by, and months, and years Till the earth shall pass away! Then what of our puny hopes and fears Where millions of years are one day? We may manfully serve our allotted time Or regard our whole life as a joke. But nothing can be very warm or sublime In a character warmed up by smoke! * 4t * Ah! The hour has struck! The year is dead! And nineteen-seven is here! Out with the lights, boys! Off to bed, The same as we did last year! 1906-7 46 WHERE ARE YOU? The government rests on its statutes. (These are human, and not without flaw) But the "anarchist", thinks his opinions Should supersede gospel, and law. The patriot yields to law's mandate. The anarchist rails and defies. True freemen resj^ect law and order, Which anarchists hate and despise. When the bomb throwing anarchist rises And curses our flag on the street. Declares all our laws are oppressive, All government merely a cheat; It is time for each patriot freeman To calmly consider this "quiz," — "How much have I done in my life time To make this man just what he is?" If the anarchist occupies office. And as governor, sheriff or judge By neglect, or by "graft," or corruption Produces a bad sort of smudge It is well for each partisan voter To search ingly ask of himself "How much have I done by my ballot To lay all such men on the shelf"? Should a rogue, or a blind pig promoter Be caught in the net of the law Do we instantly wish we could help him By finding some error or flaw? Do we favor upholding our statutes? Are we standing for right, or for wrong? If we honestly answer these questions We'll discover just where we belong! 47 Do we cavil, and sneer, and speak lightly Of efforts to benefit man? Do we criticise all kinds of methods And hinder them all that we can? Do we hamper the efforts of others To clean up the sink holes of sin? We cannot deceive other people, — 'Tis the "anarchist class" we are in! All our wriggling, and squirming, and twisting Protesting, explaining "just why," Merely makes inconsistency glaring: — (And it causes us sometimes to lie); When the laws are unrighteous, repeal them. But obey every one they may pass! If we cannot keep inside the traces We belong in the anarchist class! 1906 MY 1908 VALENTINE. St. Valentine! St. Valentine! How many times have we Sent warm requests for ladies fair to "please remember me?" In days long past, to half a score we'd send a Valentine. (And each and every one was asked if she would not be mine!) Thy spirit moveth me to write, — (not in facetious vein) But gravely, as becometh me, a message clear and plain. Take it, good Saint, and thus proclaim to every soul on earth, My Valentine, must be the one of character, and worth! Whatever she may lack in grace, — accomplishments, or looks, — Advantages in social ways, or learning gained from books; — Each, maiden young, or matron old, whose virtues clearly shine In sturdy christian character, is now, "my Valentine!" 48 DOGS. (One of .Esop's Fables in rhyme.) A dog, whose daily walking had set everybody talking, And demanding that he be restrained, because he cut up bad; Declared his pranks were regal; quite civilized and legal. In fact the very manners that some dogs have ever had! So, he continued acting in a manner quite distracting While silly dogs both great and small, would follow in his track And they made themselves quite jolly in their foolish canine folly While every pup would do his best to imitate "Old Jack". In his eyes would then appear, such a crafty stupid leer Each time he saw a puppy, cutting up some foolish trick. Though he never cared to stay, but would scamper right away If he saw a man or woman, just reaching for a stick! Once a puppy bit a child. Then the people all were wild! If a dog came lolling up the street, they'd cry out "He is mad!" And they called no judge or jury, but they slew them in their fury And having cleared the place of dogs, the people all were glad. Now close at home abiding, Old Jack was safely hiding Until someone suggested "Jack was always with the gang"! "And why should they bite babies, if they haven't germs of rabies?" So Jack was straightway sentenced, to either drown or hang. The moral of this fable you'll perceive (if you are able) That sometimes retribution overtakes the wisest dogs. Another sad reflection will occur in this connection, That dogs were dogs, in ^sop's time, and hogs were always hogs. 1904 49 PERVERSITY OF INANIMATE THINGS.' Of all the crosses we must bear along our thorny path, Inanimate, insensate things, do most provoke our wrath. 'Tis quite remarkable, to see their horrible per-vp:r-si-tee! A penny dropped upon the earth, is sure to find a crack; An automobile always tries to bolt the beaten track. A needle? Seek it where you may, —'tis hiding in a mow of hay! His drill or binder, fails to work. He'll tinker, sweat and pound To get one pesky burr to turn, or twist a bolt around; Then, all at once, a chip will fly and hit the farmer in his eye! Perverse we find whatever we use, of earth, of sea, of air. Where things should never, never hide, we always lind them there. Nothing in proper place will stay: — 'tis sure to go some other way! And years of rough experience, prove naught is more perverse Than printer's type. It bucks, and kicks, and acts so ''very worse" That correspondents tear their hair, — the readers groan and writ- ers swear. Compositors are animate (at least supposed to be,) And those who read the proof, are quick a lack of sense to see. But all their vigilance is vain: those wicked types still give us pain! And so it goes; and ever will, till that millennial day When all perverse, insensate things, shall melt and pass away! Oh! Would that I might live to see the end of all "perversitee!" 1904 50) WISCONSIN POLITICS 1904. "The hens are all sayinor -Cook'! Cook I' And not a Bob White is heard in Wisconsin."— News item. A Stalwart was riding along the highway Ab the sun was just sinking at close of the /lay. From the trees on his right hand he heard someone say, "Bob's All Right!" He clucked to his horses and gave them the lash — His temper impelled him to do something rash; But a second voice answered as quick as a flash "Bob's Right! Bob's Right! Bob's— All— Right!" He soon had his trotters both making a run For his full-blooded dog, and his breech-loading gun, To slay the poor birdies that whistled for fun — '^Bob's— All -Right!" The sound of his gun at the close of day • Attracted a game warden walking that way, The judge said next morning, "There's fifty to pay." Yes. Bob's All Right, and there are lots of quails to say so. (Thanks to the game wardens.) July 51 "GOD GIVE US MEN." (Dr. Holland in 1856.) There's a hot time coming at the Gym. And the partizans are training for the fray. The delegates are full of life and vim, They're expecting trouble on convention day; — Which reminds me of something I'll never forget. (Those arms! And those legs! They are haunting me yet!) In the fifties we had partizans like these, The democrats and whigs were badly split. It was "free-for-all, and go it as you please," Each feeling very sure that he was it! While country and principle had to stand back There was turmoil, disorder, and party whip's crack. The s]>irit thus engendered led to war. With the love of country wholly cast aside The partizans were arming near and far While cooler heads essayed to stay the tide: And so it fell out that on southern farms We buried some carloads of legs, and arms! The bacillus germ is active as of yore — The partizan is rampant, full of fight. With weighty questions knocking at the door Demanding that we settle them aright, Can patriots stoop, for a brief success. To methods resulting, how? (No one can guess.) When repairing to the confines of the Gym May each delegate remember he's a man; An American! The world demands of him To do the very utmost that he can For manhood, for country, for justice and right As conscience directs him, and God gives him. light. 52 But Alas ! Whate'er we do or say The ''bacilliiB particus" is active yet. And is liable to swarm convention day (As in those other days I can't forget, When personal rancor, and obstinate will Brought Gettysburg, Vicksburg, Champion's Hill!) May 16, 1904. Anniversary of battle of Champion Hills, May 16, 1863. RAID OF THE STALWARTS. The stalwarts came down like a herd of wild steers With '^harmony" lances, and partizan spears. With pleas that were threats, and effrontery bold They repeated the stories their organs have told. They had juggled the figures, and inlluenced papers To publish their fibs about Bob, and his capers Joined hands with the railroads, defended rebate Said Bob would drive capital out of the state. Hustled the voters from caucus to caucus And boasted such methods would certainly knock us. At 8 they rehearsed their great harmony play, (Which meant "we'll be good if we have our own way!") They marched to the Gym, like Sennecharib'^host To make things harmonious regardless of co»t! — As the cornsheller strippeth the corn from the cob The stalwarts were scattered and beaten by Bob! — And Jeffries from Janesville is loud in his wail. When objection, and protest, and arguments fail. For "Bob, found that wrench" and he gave it a twist, And the icewater came at one turn of his wrist. Their fire was quenched in the midst of their boast. And it shriveled them up like a midsummer frost. Now all that is left of that Stalw^art affair Is "Appeal to the Courts" and some liquefied air! May 25,1904. 53 NATIONAL POLITICS IN 1904. (A Dialogue.) (Mike) "Say Pat! Phat has mister Hearst done That makes all thim iditors kick? They say he's a son-of-a-guii And his doin's has made them all sick. Has he robbed Uncle Sam? Or forged slyj paper? Or grafted, or burgled, or ary sich caper?" (Pat) "Will Moike, the young feller has cash, And his Joornals is yellow they say. He has given thim many a slash In a very dis-coort-eous way. And I'm towld that he says he is willing and ready, To put up the stakes for a match against Teddy." (Mike) "Phat for should they howl about that? Sure they needs lots of foonds in campaigns! If the candidate foornishes fat Just see phat the rist of them gains! If that's all the ail of him, sure he's no sinner! And it looks very loikely he'd turn out a winner!" (Pat) "No Moike. The pre-ceed-ints demand That a prisident's purse should be slim. So that fellers with wads in aich hand Kin have aisy acciss to him! Now Hearst with his goold, and papers that's yellow MoiGHT WORK THE COXVINTION, FOR SOME OTHER FELLOW !" 54 BREAD AND BUTTER. Somewhere I have read about ''leanerH," And ^'toilers" who mount to the skies. Of diligent reapers and gleaners, How genius is certain to rise: But most of the people who flourish Their fame or success in your face Required some solids, tonourisli And tit them for running their race! All about us behold fellow creatures Who have laid their ambitions aside And with resolute, sternly set features Are drifting along with the tide. For the great, and the wise of tomorrow, Today must have butter and bread. So, they labor, they toil, and they sorrow. And embryo genius, is fed! The mothers, the fathers, the brothers Who abandoned their cherished designs, While toiling and planning for others. Accepting the lot God assigns. Should receive at least, some commendation. For furnishing butter and bread To the great and the wise of the nation. Who otherwise might have been dead. Do you wonder their temper grows sour? The manner repellant and cold? We should bless them each day and each hour Those toilers with hearts of pure gold! Remembrance, to them may bring sorrow. But seldom a plaint do tliey utter. For statesmen, and bards of tomorrow Must not be denied bread and butter! 55 So they crucify selfish ambition And bend to their task, day by day. God grant it may bring them fruition, Tiieir labor be not thrown away! — You may shout for the great, the heroic, Or go wild o'er the utterly utter. My laurel leaf, goes to the stoic Who toils, to provide bread and butter! 1905. ALLEGORY ON GRAFTING. A grafter with wax and with knife Went forth an old orchard to graft And he boastingly said to his wife As he seized his good saw by the haft, ^'I will show you an orchard that no one can beat With fruit that is luscious, and wholesome to eat." Then he sawed off a limb, or a twig In a manner no expert would dare. The scions, some small and some big. Were inserted with speed and with care. But all were from trees of inferior stock With fruit very tasteless, or hard as a rock. The orchard is standing today And a curious sight to behold! Limbs sprawling about every way. And the apples are bitter I'm told, While many a branch on his trees may be found Low drooping, and always inclined toward the ground! * -x- * Reformers go forth to convert With arguments, figures and tracts. 56 They are vigiLiiit, active, alert; While gnil'ting our minds with their facts They may scvi r the branch of onr present belief, And substitute traits of a Comanche Cliief! Evangelists prune off our pride And graft in humility's twig,;. Thenceforward, whatever betide We refrain from hilarious jigs: But devote our whole life to acquiring wealth. By hooking, by crooking, by fair means or stealth! Take heed all ye grafters I pray And leave the okl trees to their fate. Old men are not changed in a day; Old customs are hard to abate. Never waste any time on a wicked old coot. In reforms as in grafting, "begin at the root." 1905. MORAL SUASION. I know a lot of noisy active lads Well posted on athletics, "you just bet!" They live upon the labor of their dads. Not one bit of help their mothers ever get. They will wrangle over ball games by the hour, Declaring "Dinkey Doodle was to blame!" While dad is lugging home a sack of tlour To feed them up against another game. You see quite often, girls as tall as "ma" Behaving very rudely on the street. They romp, and screech, and shout a loud ha! ha! Or push, and jostle, fellows whom they meet. 57 Those girls may sometime shed some bitter tears When foolish actions, bring a tarnished name! It takes about two hundred thousand years To restore, the luster of a lady's fame! The men and women you and I have met Will likely be the same another year. And results of the example we may set Is all the danger we should really fear. — Yet after all, I cannot help considering, — If we, had acted like those boys and girls Our parents wouldn't do a single thing But treat us to some fancy curves and twirls! And if I had a big athletic kid Who "practiced" all the spring and all the fall; Who never heeded what his mother bid, I'd seize a bat, and teach him to play "bawl"! And if your girl, behaved like those we see, — Of course-I would not say-that-you should whip her: But really now, between yourself and me, How would it do, to-just-remove your slipper? 1905 FARVAL TO KIRK (NORSK NIGHTINGALE). Farval Norski. Yu ban starting into werry sinful place! Nightingale must go like saxty, if he try to keep the pace! An' Ay bat you find tan dollar ban so small as poker chip, Af yu follow avery taller who skol givin' yu nice tip! "Vild oats" costin' lots of panga, in Milvaukee or New Jork! Faller naver ban in trouble van he tendin' right to vork! Farval! Vonce again Ay say di8!(Yust like Byron, yust like Kirk!) Try tu make dis New Jork better. (Norski fallers naver shirk.) Farval! All dose "yentle readers," vishing Norski poet val. — (Hopin', ven he leave Milvaukee, he not goin' nearer "hal"! 1905 58 INSPIRATION. When Adfiin first became a living soul God moved upon the face of waters deep And permeated all the utmost ends Of boundless space. His laws inerrant, still Pervade the realms unseen, as far beyond The vain imaginings of puny man As inlinite and endless time itself. Creation still proceeds. Always the new Must take the place of older, cruder, forms. — (They much mistake Omnipotence, who hold The slow but constant growth of redwood tree Less a creation, less a work of God, Because not suddenly and swiftly wrought). And, evermore God's messages, are borne In widening waves through endless space To all receptive souls! But not to each Seems given the eye to see, the ear to hear. Or sense to comprehend omnipotent discourse. — As, when the message sent from mountain top Across the seas to other lands, must tind An instrument attuned in harmony Which vibrates perfectly, and thus repeats Each syllable and word in accents plain; — (Else merely noise devoid of sense is heard Or silence broods, unbroken as before); — So must the messages He sends to men Find souls attuned in harmony with God Else broken fragments, meaningless grotesque, Barbaric travesties, discordant noise. Is all that we shall hear. Wherefore, O man Look well to thy receiver !-- Cares of life 59 Or pleasure's quest, ambition's wild pursuit, May dull thy sense for more than flagrant sin! — E'en as the spider's filmy gauze, sometimes Will serve to interrupt the lightning's course, So these vain things may turn aside His word! — And though God's message reach thy worldly soul. The sheet whereon 'tis then transcribed may be So blurred and blotched, with all thine old accounts That none can read aright, or understand! — God speaks to all mankind the self -same words! But, each and every soul construes, or reads. According to his kind. — Old Massasoit, — (That savage, aboriginal '^Samaritan,") — Our own New England pilgrim ancestors. The Arab, Hottentot, and Egypt's kings All, all have heard His voice; and each believed, (Like Saul of Tarsus), that he did God's will. — Inspired prophets, when they hear His voice Or read the scrolls whereon His words appear. — They, too, see only part of truth, or hear At best a murmur now and then! Always The blindness of heredity obscures their sight. The page is blurred in places, where the past Has graven many things they hold as truth! Their fervid souls while wrapped in mortal clay May catch some faintest sound when God doth speak. And they may strive to spread abroad the truth: — But ever comes amid their sweetest tones The discord of the very human voice! Wherefore I say again, O child of man Look well to thy receptive faculties! God speaks to thee each day in still small voice: And if thou hearest not His message, then Attune thy soul in harmony with Him! — If thy poor eyes behold not everywhere Intelligent, omnipotent design, 'Tis not because the message is not plain: — Thy spirit is affected with opthalraia! And if thou dost not feel a warmer glow, A touch of inspiration from on high When e'er at eve the starry dome is bright, Or sunrise greets thine eyes at early dawn, — If nature's wonders fail to rouse thy soul, — Because so oft such miracles are wrought, — Then were it useless quite for God to come! Once having seen His face, that too, would fail To waken lofty sentiment within thy breast. — But having heard the voice, or read the words If aught appears, save "Love the Lord thy God With all thy heart, and mind, and strength; Thy neighbor as thvself," — the wires are crossed !- The other portion is a message sent From hades, — dead man's land, — the gloomy past Where only might makes right. And whoso fails To take his science or theology From self appointed ministers of God Is made to feel their wrath. Heredity Inclines us all to read between the lines "Compel thy neighbor, also to love God"! — Beware the sin of bigoted intolerance! — Another's soul may be as pure as thine; Another's ear may hear as well God's words: Another's voice proclaim a message true, Although it be no message thou bast heard! Think not thou art infallible. Perchance Tomorrow, when the scales shall fall, thine eyes May see more clearly than today they see. Thy soul, released from cobwebs of the past. May hear the message as thy neighbor hears. Who knows? 1905 61 "MERELY A PRIVATE." (Suggested by recent "reminiscences of the civil war".) Private Tom Clarkson of Company "G", Was not of a type you would commonly see. He was short, he was narrow, and homely, and lean. His age — well — of course "the required eighteen." Stood five feet four inches, and just tipped the beam At one hundred pounds, — Now this is no dream That lam relating; but true, every word. (I can prove it by men who once carried a sword!) — And Tom, was an orphan; with no one to cry Or mourn very much if he happened to die. He was English by birth, and of plebeian stock. (Not at all like the Pilgrims of Old Plymouth Rock.) He was careless, untidy, and so the poor scamp Had all kinds of trouble, while we were in camp. But when we were marching! Ah! Tom was the lad Who was foraging round to find what might be had. His messmates were seldom without something good; He found sweet potatoes, — he hunted up wood. And chickens, and pigs, and all things worth hooking, (But that was the limit. He would not do the cooking!) Did a six foot companion begin to i)lay out Tom, carried his kna])8ack or gun, turn about. While big fellows wilted and begged for a ride, This small chap was foraging somewhere outside. Was a man called for picket, too worn, or too sick, Tom Clarkson would offer to stand out his trick. In skirmish or battle the crack of his gun Was heard the most frequent, —he thought it great fun. From this brief account, you will readily see Why Tom was well thought of in Company "G'\ * * * But one April day, in a grove of pine wood We saw the poor fellow was spitting up blood! His lungs had been pierced by a large rifle ball And all of us felt he had no chance at all. ''They,"— captured our ambulance, turned both our flanks "And most of us went hack, on General Banks!" But Tom went to Texas, — was placed in a pen. And fed upon corn with the rest of our men. * -x- * You ask if he died there? Why "not on your life!" He served till the war closed. Came home: took a wife: — For peace, hath her victories no less than war: And here })rivate Clarkson stands much above par! He well might be pr<)u