CONXRIBUTOHS 
 
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 1597 
 
LIBRARY OF CQNGRE 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERJCA. 
 
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 Cl^ts (Ebition is sSimitcb 
 to 250 copies 
 
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 Copyriglnt, i8q7. 
 By LKE SANDERS F'RATT 
 
 \ 
 
u& 
 
 editor 
 
 LEE SANDERS PRATT 
 
 Contributors 
 
 " Call him, if you please, a bookmaker, 
 not an author."— Fo//«/V^. 
 
 "Why did I write? What sin to me unknown 
 Dipt me in ink, my parents' or my own?" 
 
 —Pope. 
 
 publishers: 
 
 THE WAGONER-MEHLER CO, 
 
 " Thoug-h an ang-el should write, 
 Still 'tis devils must print." 
 
 — To7n Moore. 
 
 Distributor: 
 
 THE CAREY BOOK STORE 
 
 Buyers 
 
 "A merchant of great traffic 
 through the world." 
 
 — Shakespea re. 
 
 " I would earnestly advise them, for 
 THEIR GOOD, to order this book to be 
 punctually served up."— ^tW/>c>«. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 "O wad some Power the giftic gie us 
 To see oorse/'s as ithers see 7ts." 
 
 r'HIS VOLUME is the answer to that prayer. In 
 glad surprise has our sight been greeted, from time 
 to time, ''with familiar home-names in periodicals 
 coming to us from distant cities, subscribing a poem 
 in graceful guise, a classic tale, a song or lettered 
 page of surpassing beauty. But <what profit that a 
 melodious chord be struck here and there to vibrate for a 
 moment on the sated ear of indifference and then, un- 
 sustained, to die into silence, — cui bono? Why not, rather, 
 unite these scattered strains into a symphony that should 
 delight the ear and touch the heart of those <Tvho knom) 
 and lo<ve the singers? 
 
 Herein lies the ra.ison d 'etre of the little book to Tvhich 
 this page is the simple introduction. It is an attempt to 
 gather and set forth in one collation a portion of the rich 
 literary fruitage of our fair city, — incomplete, to be sure, 
 but perhaps in sufficient abundance to cheer our authors 
 m)ith the heartening thought that here exists a true fel- 
 lo<TVship of letters, a literary coterie of no mean order. 
 And may our little band ''take heart of grace " from this 
 look into one another's faces, this grasp of congenial 
 hands. So shall it be that, fa-vorably as the city is al- 
 ready kno^wn for the excellence of its ^work in current 
 literature, the publication of these ''Specimen Bits" <witl 
 mark a ne^w epoch in our literary history, 
 
 If^wecan, then, recognize in this garnered sheaf some- 
 thing of the beauty and merit -which others ha-ve often 
 observed in our single flo<wers of thought, ^when they 
 grev) and blossomed apart, the ''giftie" nvill not have 
 been bestovoed in vain. 
 
Excerpts from Various ^ 
 Lectures by T)r, 'Bateman 
 Inferring to Knox Col^ 
 lege and its Students ^ ^ 
 
 -^^Ibe three folloaniui; pacjes 
 are ^e!^icate^ to Kno.v ^oU 
 lege, untl] tl]e hope an'b 
 prayer that these morbs of 
 Dx. i^ateman, that beautiful 
 aiib ijcntle spirit tt^hofc life 
 maf an iufpiratiou a\\<:> a 
 beuebictioti, may incite his 
 ''bear boys aiib airls " to 
 hiahcr anb nobler firing anh 
 to more earnest berotion to 
 the iloUecje that he loreb. -f 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 mm 
 
 
(£IosttKn Paac of a '^cctiu'C 
 e^tttIe^ "Kno.v (lollccjc" 
 
 Delivered in chapel. "Sept. T, 18'>3" 
 
 Give to this noble school your loving- confidence- 
 she is worthy of it. Give her 3'our active influence- 
 she needs it. Speak, write, work for her; rally 
 around her; do what you can for her. For thus you, 
 her literary children, can do more for her speedy en- 
 larg-enient than all other forces combined. 
 
 ^rorn a siecturc erttitlcb 
 
 " Suggestions to Stubciits " 
 
 Given in chapel, " vSept. 6, 1888'' 
 
 This is a Christian College in the broad, catholic, 
 blessed and precious sense of the word. We joyfully 
 recog-nize and earnestly seek to honor and enthrone 
 here the God of Heaven and His Son, Jesus Christ, 
 and the sublime precepts and principles of the 
 Christian relig-ion. 
 
 IN SPEAKING OF THE MORNING CHAPEL SERVICES: 
 
 We come here to meet our Father in Heaven, the 
 Maker of all thing's, and Him who is the Way and 
 the Truth and, the Life. We come as worshippers, 
 and for the time being- this is none other than the 
 house of God. But I would that when we come 
 hither, to seek our Heavenly Father's blessing for 
 the day, we mig-ht all feel a certain softening and 
 subduing- influence stealing- over us, a certain pres- 
 ence belong-ing to the place, stilling- the tumult of 
 our thoughts and bringing to our hearts that sweet 
 receptive hush, in which the voice of conscience, which 
 is none other than the voice of God in the soul, ma3' 
 be heard. God will surely bless — does always bless — 
 every such willing and waiting heart. No student 
 can spend the few allotted moments of this service 
 in such a frame of miild, without feeling the hallowed 
 touch of an unseen but gracious hand npon the 
 
chofds of his heart, without hearing- the soft, sweet 
 call of heavenly voices biddinj^'- him live a truer, 
 manlier, nobler, holier life, without being- uplifted, 
 calmed and streng-thened. And he will g-o to his rec- 
 itations and studies clearer in mental vision, stronger 
 in worthy purposes, and braver and happier in 
 heart. 
 
 It is "lovely and of g-ood report," always and in all 
 thing's to be mindful of the feeling's and of the com- 
 fort and convenience of others with whom we aie 
 associated, — that is, to do to them as we would that 
 they should do to us in like circumstances. Taking-, 
 then, along with us the Golden Rule that He has 
 g-iven us, let us see how like an ang-el monitor it will 
 follow us evervwhere, throug-h and about this build- 
 ing- and these g-rounds, leaving- peace and order and 
 sunshine in its path. 
 
 THE CLOSING WORDS OF THE LECTUKE: 
 
 And so, all day and every day, if we will only 
 think,, we shall be sure to do those "things which are 
 lovely and of good report," — becoming more court- 
 eous, more refined, nobler types of what the ameni- 
 ties of culture can do; more thoughtful, more mindful 
 of others, worthier representatives of this Christian 
 college. 
 
 ^rom a ^Scctiirc 
 
 *' Qbricc to 5tubent; 
 
 Given in chapel, " Sept. 4, 1890 " 
 
 Begin right, and keep right, and hold on and hold 
 out, to the end. Do not relax 3'our grasp, do not 
 grow careless, do not think it a little matter to slur 
 over a lesson, to cut a recitation, to shirk a college 
 dut3% now and then. It is not a little matter, — it is 
 the beginning of a habit which, if not checked, will 
 steadily and rapidly increase. 
 
 The brightest, gladdest, happiest persons I know 
 are the college boys and girls who are conscious of 
 trying to do their whole duty. 
 
^roni a s£ccture cntitIc^ 
 
 *' CEbc dnic Strength of clollege? " 
 
 Given "Thursday. Nov. 6, 1884" 
 
 Christ and culture, relig-ion and learnin;tr, nature 
 and revelation, the works and word of God, — these 
 are the leg^ends inscribed on these walls, *the princi- 
 ples that hold sway in the beliefs and teaching-s of 
 this School. Sound learning- and a pure faith, the 
 life that now is, and also that which is to come, the 
 temporal and the eternal, the seen and the unseen, — 
 these are some of the watchwords of Knox CoUeg-e, 
 some of the pairs of fundamental truths which here 
 have glad and hearty recog-nition. 
 
 ^from Cmo 
 (lalifoniia ^iccture? 
 
 SPEAKING OF THE FAREWELL SCENE AT THE GALESBUKG 
 
 DEPOT WHEN HE WAS SETTING OUT ON HIS 
 
 JOURNEY TO CALIFORNIA: 
 
 And there, too, were some of the class of '78, my 
 own boys, God bless them. Did ever teacher have 
 such boys and g-irls as I have had and still have, in 
 Knox Colleg-e, anvway? Thev are just a solid com- 
 fort. 
 
 SPEAKING OF THE REV. DR. WARREN, OF SAN MATEO, 
 
 A QRADUATE OF KNOX COLLEGE, OF 
 
 THE CLASS OF '47: 
 
 He was full of interest in and inquiries about his 
 Alma Mater, and upon my telling- him how well we 
 were getting- along- and what a g-lorious company of 
 lads and lassies we had here, he proposed that his 
 daughter should play and we all sing- that g-lorious 
 battle-hymn of ours, 
 
 "Here's to Good did Knox." 
 
 The young- lady stepped to the piano, and we sang- 
 till the San Mateo hills fairly rang- ag-ain; and with 
 that song-, identified with an institution whose wel- 
 fare is my daily and' nightly thought, for a benedic- 
 tion, we exchang-ed g-ood nig-hts. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS: 
 
 Entrre 
 
 Tribute to the Fi,ag . 
 
 How I Got the Outside Seat [■ 
 
 Verses ' 
 
 In Historic Dai^ecari^ia 
 
 A Vision of Santa Ci^aus 
 
 A LuiyLABY 
 
 The Pi^aint of the IvEaves - 
 The Scarf of the Demoiseli^e 
 
 " PiTTYPAT AND TiPPYTOE " - 
 
 The Brownies on Our Street 
 
 I^iTTivE Things - 
 
 IviNCoivN AT Gettysburg 
 
 An Evergreen - 
 
 The Passing of Cadmus 
 
 The Fir Tree - 
 
 The Meteor 
 
 A Reverie by the Heather 
 
 To the Daisy 
 
 An ImmorteIvI^E 
 
 The Home Coming of Thorstein 
 
 Little Footsteps 
 The Sun's Wooing 
 GaIvEsburg's Mii.tons 
 Notes 
 
 Neivton Bateman 
 
 Pages. 
 
 10 
 
 11-18 
 
 Hjalmar Simdquist 
 
 19-21 
 
 Philip G. Wright 
 
 22-23 
 
 Marie Zettcrberg 
 
 24-25 
 
 John Huston Finley - 
 
 26 
 
 Mary C. Hurd 
 
 27-30 
 
 Clara Gordon Coulson 
 
 31-35 
 
 Elizabeth Clark 
 
 36^37 
 
 Julia Fletcher Carney 
 
 38 
 
 Clark E, Carr 
 
 39-40 
 
 Helena Crumett-Lee - 
 
 41-45 
 
 Earnest Elmo Calkins 
 
 46-48 
 
 Alice B. Gushing 
 
 49-51 
 
 Frank Hinckley Sisson 
 
 52 
 
 Janet Greig 
 
 53-54 
 
 Marie Ze tier berg 
 
 55 
 
 Annie Bateman Ewart 
 
 56-57 
 
 Ericsson 
 
 
 Win. E. Simonds 
 
 58-67 
 
 Lee S. Pratt 
 
 68 
 
 Wm. F. Bent ley 
 
 69-71 
 
 72 
 
 \ 
 
 73-76 
 
^LC\f^^i^ H^i^ l^lTTtL C^C^K^i^ (\\x^2X'j /^^3 
 
Cvv^ M^ £i5^ U*^ U^.^ , 1^ iiz^ 
 

HOW I GOT THE OUTSIDE SEAT 
 
 a MEMORABLE episode of my stay on the Pa- 
 cific coast was a visit to Pescadero, some seventy- 
 five miles from San Francisco. The route is 
 by the cars of the Southern Pacific to San Mateo, thence 
 by stag-e to Pescadero, about thirty-five miles away. 
 
 Having- received timely notice of the desirableness of 
 securing- an outside seat, and of the rush there would be 
 for that coveted advantag-e upon the arrival of the train at 
 San Mateo, I was ready for action. As the train was being- 
 " slowed up" to the station, I was on the lowest step of the 
 platform, satchel in hand, ready for a spring-. The moment 
 we reached the first end of the platform I leaped ashore and 
 made for the stag-es, which were in plain sig-ht on the hill 
 some two hundred yards away. Now, two hundred yards 
 was precisely the leng-th of the course on which I had made 
 my best and most famous time in my racing- da3^s when in 
 colleg-e; and as my 'eye measured the distance and took in 
 the situation — as the value of the prize of victory, (an out- 
 side seat for a six hours' ride over one of the finest mountain 
 roads in California), came into the field of mental vision — 
 as I thoug-ht of the laurels I had won, time and ag-ain, over 
 that two-hundred-yard stadium in Illinois Colleg-e, (for, 
 incredible as it may seem to you long--metre g-entlemen 
 that a man of such Zacchean altitude should achieve renown 
 as a runner, I do assure you that I wore that champion-belt 
 for nearly two years over one hundred and sixty competi- 
 
tors) — as Verg-il's account of the last mag-nificent spurt 
 made by old Entellus in his boxing- bout with the boasting- 
 Dares, came to my mind, (and here jou see one of the many 
 incidental benefits of classical study) — as I thoug-ht of 
 "Good old Knox," and that for the time being- her honor 
 and prestig-e were in my especial keeping-, and that they 
 must and should be sustained — and as I thoug-ht of the keen 
 delig^ht it would be to tell the story, if peradventure I should 
 succeed — as these thoug-hts and memories, and other throng- 
 ing- visions and fancies flashed throug-h my brain in a mil- 
 lionth part of the time it has taken to write them, I resolved 
 to reach those stages in advance of all other persons, of what- 
 soever race, ag-e, color, sex, or previous condition. And 
 the way this chronicler, (for, alas, there is no other histor- 
 ian to record the deed and send it to posterity and g-lory) — 
 the way this chronicler did pick up and put down his feet 
 for the next two or three minutes would have filled even 
 you winged young Mercuries, (please notice another classi- 
 cal reference); would have filled even you swift-footed 
 Hectors, (again, as I live; you must excuse me, there is such 
 a fascination about Homer and Vergil — they are such an 
 unwasting source of telling metaphors and matchless tropes 
 and similes); would have filled even you, (there now, I have 
 cut loose from Greece and Rome at last) — rwould have filled 
 even you, familiar as you are with feats of prowess and dar- 
 ing, with astonishment, perchance with envy. 
 
 The slight advantage I had secured by being ready to 
 jump ashore the moment the train came alongside the plat- 
 form, was improved to the utmost. Looking over my 
 shoulder, I saw my competitors in the race, seven men and 
 
three women, sweeping after me and converg-ing- towards 
 the common goal — the stages. It became evident, in a 
 moment, that mj most dangerous riv^als were two men and 
 a woman, who were pressing me hard. The woman w^as a 
 very Anne of Geierstein for fleetness and endurance; she ran 
 like a deer, while her laughter rang out in the most mock- 
 ing and contagious manner^ — though I must confess that I 
 had other uses for all my breath just then. A moment 
 more and she had left the two men behind and was actually 
 gaining on the Galesburg athlete! Must he, then, be 
 beaten at last, and by a woman? Perish the thought! 
 But what was to be done? She was already so near that the 
 very color of her ribbons and eyes was plainly discernible, 
 and, alas, she was gaining fast. But one recourse was left 
 me; I hated to resort to it, but hated more to be beaten, 
 for by this time the others had given up the contest and the 
 air was filled with shouts from the crowds on the plat- 
 form and about the stages as they witnessed the race. 
 So when within about fifty feet of the stages I threw 
 away my valise, made a last desperate spurt, and got 
 in ahead and secured the coveted outside seats. You should 
 have heard that unconscionable damsel's shout of derisive 
 laughter when that valise had to go! The whole thing 
 was an unexpected and rare bit of fun, hugely enjoyed both 
 by participants and spectators, one of the latter of w^hom 
 was heard to remark that he "never saw a man of eighty 
 run like that before." 
 
 I was on my way to visit a college classmate living in 
 Pescadero, whom I had not seen for many years. His 
 daughter had joined me in San Francisco and was going 
 
 16 
 
home for a brief vacation. She knew of m^' purpose to se- 
 cure, at all reasonable hazards, outside seats for us both, 
 and had witnessed the race as she came slowly on. In a 
 few moments she arrived at the stag-es, bringing- that for- 
 lorn looking- valise, and radiant with delig-ht at the brilliant 
 triumph of her father's old college chum. 
 
 I had been but just in time. The two seats I had se- 
 cured were the only outside ones left in the two mountain 
 stag-es. To admit a third with us would require a little 
 C7'ozvdiug^ but when I saw the wistful face of the brave lit- 
 tle woman who came so near to spoiling this story, as she 
 was about entering one of the coaches there to be impris- 
 oned for six hours, I held a briet consultation with my 
 protege, and we unanimously decided to invite the lady to 
 share our seat on the hurricane deck of the stage. She ac- 
 cepted, with thanks. In genuine western style, we sever- 
 ally introduced ourselves, and a most agreeable and enter- 
 taining travelling companion she proved to be. 
 
 Newton BatExMAn. 
 
 I^IFE THOUGHTS FROM DR. BATEMAN. 
 For "Thk Quiet Hour": 
 
 "The more complete our isolation, the more profound 
 should be our listening-, — assured that the divine lips 
 are ever close to our ears with a messag-e. This is just 
 the way the great and g-ood have ascended the heig-hts 
 of a faith on which the peace of God abides forever." 
 
 For Crises in Life : 
 
 " See to it that as you come to the g-reat moral dividing- 
 ridg-es of life, the solemn moments of choice, you turn 
 your faces toward the sunrise, not toward the sunset." 
 
 17 
 
Tcrscs penned at pebble Beach, California 
 
 Oh sobbing- sea — oh moaning- sea ! 
 What bitter anguish grieveth thee ? 
 Why goes the sound of wailing waves 
 Resounding through thy hollow caves ? 
 Why dost thou rise in threatening wrath, 
 When angry tempests cross thy path — 
 Aiming thy helpless wrath so high, 
 Against the armies of the sky ? 
 
 I, too, in wistful yearning wail, 
 Because my hopes and longings fail — 
 Because my cherished plans are lost, 
 With all the labor they had cost. ^ 
 And, when the adverse storms arise, 
 I vent my wrath against the skies, 
 And waste my strength in bitterness 
 That does not make my burden less. 
 
 Oh smiling sea — oh tender sea ! 
 What wondrous beauty covers thee ! 
 How softly blue thy depths appear, 
 Thy dancing waves, how crystal clear ! 
 How brightly doth the sunlight rest 
 At last, upon thy quiet breast ! 
 It is because thou liest still — ^ 
 Submissive to thy Father's will. 
 
 So I, at last, give up the strife- 
 Give up the cherished plans of life; 
 Yield every hope, each wild desire, 
 And quench ambition's burning fire. 
 When lo ! my chains no longer gall, 
 My toils no longer fruitless fall; ^ 
 And, in the place of storms, is given 
 The everlasting- calms of heaven. 
 
 — Newton Bateman. 
 
,^ .aV^^^-^^ 
 
 ""'^^^ZJi ^ 
 
 In Historic Dalecarlia 
 
 Not far from the city of Falun, on a beautiful headland 
 at Lake Runn, is to be found one of the chief attractions 
 for a visit to historic Dalecarlia. It is the old cottag-e at 
 Ornas, where, nearly four hundred years ag-o, Gustavus 
 Vasa was saved, and throug-h him the country, by the he- 
 roic act of a noble woman, Barbro Stig-sdotter. It was dur- 
 ing- those unhappy days when the Danish invaders had 
 succeeded, throug-h cunning- and deceit, in capturing- every 
 stronghold of Sweden, and the tyrannical Christian II ruled 
 the country with unparalleled cruelty. The only man left 
 to whom the stricken land could look for g-uidance, since 
 ninety of its noblest men had been beheaded at the massacre 
 
 19 
 
of Stockholm, was a young- noble, Gustavus Ericsson, known 
 afterwards as the King-, Gustavus Vasa, the Father of his 
 Country. But, at this time an outlaw, he was hunted like 
 a wild beast, and in the woods of Dalecarlia he concealed 
 himself, like the illustrious Alfred of Eng-land. One cold 
 winter's nig-lit he came to Ornas, w^here, at the home of his 
 old friend, Arendt Persson, he hoped to receive a shelter and 
 refug-e. A warm welcome was g-iven him and he was hidden 
 in the upper story of the cottag-e. Glad of having- found a 
 friend to whom he could unfold his plans and look for sup- 
 port in his efforts to save the country, he at once went to 
 sleep. But the price set on his head was too much for his 
 host; another Judas, he went and sold his master for thirty 
 pieces of silver; but when the traitor came back with the 
 pursuers to betray his g-uest and his country, the cag-e was 
 empty, the bird had flown, and the world owed another debt 
 of g-ratitude to noble and heroic womanhood ! 
 
 Barbro Stig-sdotter, the wife of the deceitful Arendt, 
 suspecting- her husband's wicked plans, had at once sum- 
 moned her most faithful servant, Jacob, and as he stood 
 below, with the fastest horse in the stable harnessed to the 
 sleig-h, the noble woman, by means of a long- towel, lowered 
 Gustavus, the fug-itive, to the g-round just in time to effect 
 an escape from his pursuers as they entered the room. 
 
 The old cottag-e is preserved in its orig-inal form as a 
 precious relic of that troublous period. It is an old- 
 fashioned log- house, at least four hundred years old, and 
 contains a larg-e collection of mementoes of Gustavus Vasa 
 and his times. It is interesting- to examine the arrows and 
 cross-bows used by the brave Dalecarlians in repulsing- the 
 
 20 
 
invaders, to try on the heavy iron helmet worn by Gustavus 
 in the war for independence, and to lift the ghastly broad- 
 axe which was used to cut off the heads of the nobles at 
 the blood-bath of Stockholm. But those dismal times of 
 conflict and tyrann}^ are now happily ended, and the sun 
 shines as brig'htly over Orniis and its quaint little cottag-e 
 as ever; while from the upper porch of that time-honored 
 structure Lake Runn, with its g-reen arid smiling- shores, 
 presents as peaceful and charming- a picture as one may 
 ever see. 
 
 ^<a/^^aytyJ<^U^U^^^^^cd^ 
 
/\\/\S\Q\] OF ^Af^T/\ Gi-/\U 
 
 Inaparlor, s>n^AM and. costj , 
 
 Wilk its portieres and d-ra,ptr-u, 
 Tts rvuelloiv, ■uellow, po-joery, 
 l/twubrellcu sKa-de-d li(j.kl, 
 
 Verw diunvd , Veri^ rosi^ , 
 
 'Hound ike. lips, and hu-sij -worlii-i 
 f Sa.iv- 3<i-^i^ Clavts last uiglvt. 
 
 TVa.5 tlve So-inl ! J] mellow kcclo 
 
 Jit^t ahove tke }iea,d was strea-rKviiozj 
 'Twas tke so-int! "[ was Tust drea-m^lvug 
 \}tlike, ^act wcus Xjovjyvq avui Jo-lr. 
 Jinci ^s low tones Irom- tke cello 
 Tkrill tts like a uew evcuvuael, 
 po tli-vS Sweet ^actd okildre-n-'s ayw 
 Wltk tke silver stranded Lxir. 
 
 el 
 
 ^ 
 
 'Twas tke scu-rvt? TLe well-]•C.Tl.owo^ -fealu,res ! 
 How me love liakt strea-m-ed. in flaslues, 
 JVeatV tke silken, s^^>^ken,lasJves, 
 j'^s Ike Utsi^ Tinaers v/roi^i/kl ! 
 Seaxl-£.yeoI- cciion. Wttina CT-eoiu-re-s, 
 Do-intu rcL-lrieS, 5tarru-wande-d, 
 Qvc£ens «a.7i^ paa<is, all re.sr)cn.d^e.cL 
 To VSrue, sa,lnts creo-Kve -iiioziCjKh. 
 
Oe-r kls y,aXax^ i-rv ike A'orlL 
 x/ ivd-Tj wowlJ^ sa-M -to ^TViJ. 'CuvtO'tker, 
 
 "VVcvlCe-s Jro>w ^veri^ oLeo-r- ill-vusio-vv, 
 Okoil'ers ev^ru -ToTv^i. -IcL^clL, 
 
 J\ra-l>U,r ^lor-ij of ike 7-.ea,l. 
 
 PKvUjD a .\, Elizotctl^ Q..6.Y/rlcjlvt . 
 
 

 Ud' u, 
 
 h infc even ^W pales \r\'Tfjc pIooha 
 ^ ihe latsl note of il-e wea.v'»ea bi'ow)-,— H^/uslp 
 1 5 w"rti7 o V e a rn = /-n u.^ » c \b e v o o vt-j , 
 
 rYh'lhl in -fiye Y-/^ 
 In rac$<cxt;,Qe,"ih^ Jiv'sltv/ill^ln't 'oTqv' 
 ^];ocis "itr pu./e I'l^ir oe/ -i-ke nyoa^ly'g wly'ilr^VesI' 
 l\eachmo Towax'O splenclovi ai<x/. 
 
 ^leep, my litttp one, sleep-, 
 nKilsl" "the wipers Iceep 
 vYcx.1cVi o'e/ Hlye Mosso nig-inal' d/owsily J^lII 
 Ihto^a sleep -thar is d/eamlegs cxnci iecp, 
 Wa'itiyd -Hye Hno/mnd's loN/e-call. 
 
 Ul'eo-tTo, rny I'lttte one,o>'eam; 
 
 Oi 1^e cv&scent' moon io-lls 077 "tj^c Wovl^^ 
 yHS r),9lnl' ani^eU' wm6^ a\'e urji-uvi-ecl. 
 
THE 
 
 Of 4i .ofeU,,, loJ' PlAlNTgA^ c,., b' b-| 
 
 
 ^^p!H'j^i,,7p._^*^ 7^'^, f=^„^^ "^v, '%x, •'li]) ;tt> 
 
 
 
 >£ 
 
 JxTll. 
 
 ' J,*«v/ W\f.^ w,^(^e^ ^ood •!»•„ 
 
 
 ^.^:^^^^B^^^^S^ 
 
 o.r^oi-HpwC-^^i.O! 
 r-^. '<^'T °r '°T 
 
 io lie. ^vjd yoT, 
 
 jooK -^°i -^^t/ 
 
 
 Of fill I'be^A 
 
 "O VVl vps^ , We ■fei.v" 
 "\/Ve'\/« \\\A<^ '\ri v4\i7- 
 '"V/Ve <rlie 1-17 pfr-nrj. 
 
 26 
 
 I Ipe eirjs^ ; T7»-^ ye 1 1 
 
 
 
 Iy^ pe*.5;e. 
 
'Che Scarf of the OcmoiscUc 
 
 From the French of Jacques AviiL 
 
 URING our last vacation in Normandy, 
 that country where each pebble has its 
 W legend and each wood its mystery, we 
 were surprised one day by a storm and 
 took refug-e in an old shepherd's cabin, where, pictur- 
 esquely seated upon his ample cloak, we patiently awaited 
 the end of the shower. 
 
 Nothing could be more charming than this unexpected 
 halt in the midst of green meadows with the intoxicating 
 perfume of new-mown hay about us, while the great drops 
 of the heavy summer's rain fell upon the trees with a tink- 
 ling- sound as of mvsterious little bells in the hand of an 
 invisible ringer. 
 
 The shower, however, was soon past, and as a mag- 
 nificent rainbow appeared above the woods across the now 
 clear sk}^ the old man said, "It is all over, ladies. Do you 
 see the Scarf of the Demoiselle? It is going to be fine 
 now." 
 
 "The Scarf of the Demoiselle?" said I, astonished. 
 
 "Why yes! the rainbow! We call it the Scarf of the 
 Demoiselle, here." And, without much urging the old 
 shepherd, leaning upon his knotted staff, told us the follow- 
 ing touching story: 
 
 27 
 
"One beautiful summer's day, a long-, long- time ag-o, 
 people were gleaning- in the 'Field of the Demoiselle'; it 
 was a field that belong-ed in her own rig-ht to the daughter 
 of the Castellan, who, since she was very kind, was wont 
 at harv^est time to have the sheaves of ripened grain un- 
 bound and to allow the poor of the neighboring villages to 
 come and glean. Thus the whole harvest passed into their 
 hands, not a single spike going into the seig-norial grana- 
 ries. She loved to come and visit the gleaners, wearing a 
 simple gown of fine wool and, as her only adornment, a 
 scarf of white silk striped with the seven prismatic colors. 
 
 "Now, this day, the oppressive heat presaged a storm, 
 and the 3^oung girl was in the field with the gleaners when 
 suddenly great clouds appeared. 
 
 " 'Hasten my friends,' said she. 'You have only time 
 to reach shelter,' and the gleaners dispersed. 
 
 "But behold, yonder, toward the great hedge, appeared 
 a marvelously beautiful young woman, with a veil about 
 her head like the saints in the stained windows of our 
 church. She held by the hand a little child more lovely 
 than the angels, whose fair hair fell rippling over his 
 snow-white robe. The sweet-voiced demoiselle advanced 
 to meet them and, as it was not yet raining, invited them 
 to glean. Both mother and child began to pick up the 
 scattered spikes, laying them in a pile at the end of the 
 field. Meanwhile large drops began to fall, but happily, 
 in a corner near the wood, there was a great spreading oak 
 under which they took refuge; for it was now raining fur- 
 iously, the thunder rumbled in the distance and lightning 
 flashed across the sky. As the child with his chubby hand 
 
 2S 
 
raised his mother's veil to shelter his curly head beneath it, the 
 demoiselle took off her scarf and with infinite pains wrapped 
 it about his head and shoulders, placing- a kiss upon his brow. 
 
 "Then, while the mother smiled sweetly, birds began 
 to sing-, and mysterious voices, so tender and pure that hu- 
 man ear had never heard anything like them, filled the air 
 with an invisible and harmonious chorus. At the same 
 time the rain ceased, the clouds disappeared and the de- 
 moiselle suddenly noticed that her companions were no 
 longer at her side. 
 
 "She seemed to hear the passing of wings, and at the 
 very spot where they had appeared, she saw the child and 
 his mother gently rising upon fleecy clouds, surrounded by 
 angels with azure wings and rosy-pinioned cherubim, all 
 singing a glad hosanna as they mounted into the blue sky. 
 
 "Near the horizon they stopped, and as the demoiselle, 
 who had recognized the Virgin and Child Jesus, knelt upon 
 the damp grain in mute adoration, the angels chanted in 
 loud, clear tones, 'Blessed be. Blessed be the good De- 
 moiselle, so kind to the unfortunate! Blessed be the Field 
 of Charity!' The Virgin extended her hands in a gesture 
 of benediction; the Child took from his fair head the scarf 
 and gave its ends to two cherubim who flew out of sight 
 bearing it in opposite directions. It grew in the infinite 
 expanse of the heavens until it formed an immense and 
 marvelous triumphal arch, beneath which, to the sound of 
 celestial music soft and sweet as the sighing of the wind 
 through the woods, parsed the Virgin and her Son, followed 
 by the choir of angels and cherubim. 
 
 "Then all disappeared. 
 
 29 
 
"But when the young- g-irl arose, in place of a few scat- 
 tered heads she saw a new harvest standing upright, as 
 abundant as it was miraculous, and the little pile left by 
 the divine gleaners had become a large and lofty stack. 
 The wondrous scarf still shone resplendent in the sky. 
 
 "Since that time, after storms, wherever there are kind 
 and generous souls God allows the Scarf of the Demoiselle 
 to appear before the astonished eyes of men, in memory of 
 the good chatelaine.'' 
 
 "But," said I, as the old shepherd finished his tale, 
 "the rainbow is older than that; it dates from the deluge." 
 
 "Oh yes," replied the old man, shaking his hoary 
 head, "yes, for learned men who read the Bible, and for the 
 inhabitants of the land where Noah's ark stopped; but we 
 of the West think this story more beautiful; we believe 
 it firmly; and all our old people will tell you that the rain- 
 bow is simply the Scarf of the Demoiselle, placed in the 
 sky by the infant Jesus, and held there by two angels of 
 the good God." Mary C. Hukd. 
 
 io 
 
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 1 I i 
 
olecpihA in Qo.c^'s Here' blcsl^^ 
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 Son * 
 
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 be^un iUfc\x' loMz: 
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 "WjaV" if ><vou.\^ Soon Ipe 
 
 Note— The Student Brownie is a Galesburg- habitant. 
 
 J7 
 

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Lincoln at 6cttysburg, 
 
 On a brig-ht November after- 
 noon, when the autumn leaves were 
 ting-ed with a thousand hues of 
 beauty, upon an eminence in the 
 midst of a g-reat plain bounded by 
 lofty mountains, I saw a vast con- 
 course of men and women. I saw 
 among- them illustrious warriors, g-ifted poets, and profound 
 statesmen. I saw ambassadors of mig-hty empires, g"ov- 
 ernors of g-reat commonwealths, ministers of cabinets, men 
 of hig-h position and power. I saw above their heads, upon 
 every hand, a starry banner, drooping- under the weig-ht of 
 sombre drapery. I saw men and women standing- among- 
 new made g-raves, overwhelmed with g-rief which they 
 vainly endeavored to conceal. I knew that I was in the 
 midst of a people bowing- under great affliction, of a land 
 stricken with sorrow. I knew that the tide of destruction 
 and death had not ceased to ebb and flow, but that at that 
 moment the fate of my country was trembling- in the bal- 
 ance, — her only hope in the fortitude and valor of her sons 
 who were baring- their breasts to storms of shot and shell 
 only a few miles away. 
 
 I saw standing- in the midst of that mighty assembly a 
 man of majestic but benignant mien, of worn and haggard 
 features, but whose eyes beamed with purity, with patriot- 
 ism, and with hope. Every eye was directed towards him; 
 
 i9 
 
and as men looked into his calm, sad, earnest face, they rec- 
 og-nized the great President, the foremost man of the world, 
 not only in position and power but in all the noblest attri- 
 butes of humanity. When he essayed to speak, such sol- 
 emn silence reig-ned as when, within consecrated walls, 
 men come into the presence of Deity. Kach sentence, slow- 
 ly and earnestly pronounced, sank into every patriotic 
 heart, g-ave a strang-e lustre to every face, and nerved 
 every arm. In those utterances, the abstract, the condensa- 
 tion, the summing- up of American patriotism, were con- 
 tained the hopes, the aspiratipns, the stern resolves, the 
 consecration, the dedication upon the altar of humanity, of 
 a g-reat people. 
 
 From the time of that solemn dedication the final 
 triumph of the loyal hosts was assured. As the 
 Christian day by day repeats the solemn words of prayer 
 g-iven him by his Savior, so the American Patriot will con- 
 tinue to repeat those inspired sentiments. While the Re- 
 public lives he will continue to repeat them, and while, real- 
 izing- all their solemn sig-niiicance, he continues to repeat 
 them, the Repiihliczvill live. Clark K. Carr. 
 
 40 
 
i cAN EVERGREEN 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 .4 boy inid girl stem ding in the door 
 'of a tiny chalet at Griiidelzvald. 
 
 Girl. Ach Hans! Do you see the 
 / small tree? Mutter, Mutter, come 
 here! There's a new baby tree in 
 the snow. 
 
 Mother. {^From zvithin'] Pla j bj 
 I'm hard pressed by the work. 
 Boy. A tree's not so much to see. The yalley's full 
 of them. 
 
 Girl. S^Stooping over a young evergreen near by^ and 
 whispering to //] I've seen you, little tree, and I know jou 
 
 yourselves, Kinder. 
 
must be awfully cold. My toes are always cold all winter, 
 but it is most time for the sun to shine 'round this corner 
 and then you'll feel so beautiful. \_She runs into the house 
 and returns zvith two pieces of bark. Puts the hark up about 
 the tree~\ This will keep off the wind, and I'll pile the snow 
 all around your roots. You can be my tree now and I'll 
 take care of you. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 The Tree. Ach! the sun's rays have kissed me. The 
 
 Madchen is so 
 My roots 
 for the 
 Ach! 
 
 g-cod to send the sun this way. 
 have not pressed forward far, 
 g-round is very cold and hard. 
 I'm shivering- so. That wind 
 which comes to chill me must 
 be straig-ht from the g-lacier 
 behind the Kinder's cha- 
 let. My Madchen was 
 very kind to tell me that 
 it was spring-time 
 now, but the spring- 
 winds are sehr kalt. 
 Ach! 'tis the Mad- 
 , chen's voice! 
 
 Girl comes out of 
 the chalet^ knitting a 
 
 sinall blue sock and singing slowly : 
 
 I'm coming- to you, O tree! O tree! 
 
 Yo — del — yo^ — del, 
 I'm coming- to, you, O tree! 
 
 Yo — del — yo- — del. 
 
Himmel! the poor tree! The harsh wind has torn the 
 bark away, and jour poor branches are twisting- all about, 
 and there's a pile of snow on you, too. {^Brushes snow off 
 and re-arranges the shelter. Sits down beside the tree; her 
 knitting drops in her lap and she puts her arms about the tree} 
 AchI my little tree, I^m sore distressed. The Mutter beat 
 me this day. Yes, 'twas schiver. She took the Alpenstock 
 from the chest where it rests and she struck me the full 
 force of the Stock three times. I can't show jou how it 
 was; 'twould hurt you so. Ach! 'twould hurt you so, 
 mein Baum. You see, Hans and I were up to see if the 
 g-lacier was melting-, for the Vater said last nig-ht that the 
 water would be coming* down in torrents from the mountains. 
 But torrents there were not — just a wee bit of a stream 
 that you could hardly spy. Hans pushed me once and the 
 crevasse nig-h swallowed me up. Hans told the Mutter and 
 then she stocked me, because I'm the first-born and oug-ht 
 to know better. I'm so g-lad that you're the weest tree in 
 the valley, or the other trees mig-ht stock you. {^Buries her 
 head in the branches. 
 
 Mother. {^Calling from the door'\ Gretchen! Gretchen ! 
 There's the wood to fetch. 
 
 Gij-l. \_Ji(mping up'] Ach, so. I must g-o to her. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 THREE MONTHS LATER. 
 
 The Tree. The summer is my love and the sweet sun 
 claims her, too. Ach! but I care not; I share the warmth 
 
 43 
 
of each. Warm! everj^thing- is warm in summer. I shake 
 mj g-reen branches and the warm air floats all about me. 
 Even the sound of the rushing- g-lacier-stream is warmed 
 before it reaches mj ears. Himmlische warmth! Even when 
 I look at the snow afar off on the mountain tops, I realize 
 the more how warm I am. I am so happy, so snug- and 
 warm. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Box and girl picking berries in the valley. Sudden sound 
 like tliunder in Ike mountains as an avalanehe eonies tearing 
 down. 
 
 Boy. \^Stopping zvork and looking ' round ^ There's a 
 smacking- somewhere; isn't that a joll}^ rumble? 
 
 Girl. \^Pi eking berries'] Hans! Hans! Perhaps it 
 killed somebody. 
 
 Hans. Killed the Kuh. 
 
 Girl. My basket's full. \_Takes both baskets'] Let's 
 come and sit under m}^ Baum, and eat the berries. \_Start- 
 ing to run] First there, g-ets the big-g-est basket. 
 
 They run up the valley and see all the pastures on one 
 side of the chalet covered zvith snow; the chalet itself is half 
 buried in a mass of snow and ice. 
 
 Girl. ID rapping baskets] The Mutter! Ach, Hans! 
 the Mutter! 
 
 Boy rushes zvildly tozvard back of house, zvhich is barri- 
 caded by snow. With a terrified scream^ he turns suddenly 
 and sees his fuother^ who is searching for her children and 
 calling loudly. 
 
 Boy. Ach, Mutter! We're here! ,. 
 
Mother. Und die Sch wester? 
 
 They look and see the sister riveted to the spot zvhere she 
 stood^ the berries all spilled about her. 
 
 Mother. Gretchen! GretchenI come here. 
 
 Girl. {^Bursting into tears and throzving herself on the 
 ground~\ Mein Baum! Ach! Mutter! Mj Liebchen is 
 dead! 
 
 Boy. It's litter if vou didn't cry for your tree when the 
 Mutter and I are aliv^e. 
 
 Girl. Ach! The cruel Summer! 
 
 Helena Crumett-Lee. 
 
 45 
 
THE "PASSING OF CADMVS 
 
 There's a new-made shrine deserted; 
 
 There's a tripod overturned; 
 There's an oracle perverted, 
 
 And its patron saint is spurned. 
 
 From the ecumenic roster 
 
 They've erased the best of all; 
 And the rampant, piebald poster — 
 
 They have turned it to the wall. 
 
 In that vacant bookshop corner 
 
 Cadmi erstwhile joyed to meet; 
 Now the sacrileg-ious scorner 
 
 Occupies the window seat. 
 
 Once to wear the Cadmean habit 
 
 Was our unrestricted wish, 
 When the Welsh was on the rabbit 
 
 And the chafe was on the dish. 
 
 From our streng-th there came forth sweetness; 
 
 From the eater came forth meat; 
 Now the club has lost completeness; 
 
 If we meet we simply eat. 
 
 47 
 
So proud Cadmus deemed us vandals; 
 
 Girded tip his traveling- g-own; 
 Shook our dust from off his sandals; 
 
 Shook his head, and "shook" the town. 
 
 Still the Hawthorne brews Young- Hyson; 
 
 Still Mosaic "moseys" on; 
 And the old world's broad horizon 
 
 Still sticks out with their renown. 
 
 Still Euterpean doth g-lad us; 
 
 Still Fortnig-htly doth confer; 
 But the Club of g-ood Saint Cadmus 
 
 Is among- the thing's that were. 
 
 Eaknkst Elmo Calkin? 
 
 
 4S 
 
*,r# 
 
 THE FIR TREE 
 
 From tlic German of Friedrich Adolf Geisslcr. 
 N THAT holy nig-ht when the 
 Saviour was born in Bethle- 
 hem, and the heavenly hosts 
 carried the g'lad news to the 
 shepherds, God sent one of His heralds to 
 the German land to carry the great tiding-s 
 to the world that was wrapped in winter. 
 
 The snow^ hung- heavily upon the branches 
 of the trees. It w^as bitter cold, and the 
 trees all slept. But the anofel awakened 
 
 49 
 
them with the messag^e that Christ, The 
 Holy One, was born. 
 
 "I know him not," said the powerful oak; 
 ' ' it was only yesterday morning- that Wotan's 
 priest, standing- under my branches, offered 
 a steed to the Father of the g-ods. The 
 warm blood was spattered upon my trunk; 
 and see, — there hang's the head of the sacri- 
 fice. From out the roaring- of my leaves 
 Wotan speaks to the races of men; who is 
 g-reater than he?" 
 
 "I know him not," said the linden; '' I am 
 rooted deep in German g-round; I look afar 
 over German lands; what care I for him who 
 is born in a foreig-n land ? " 
 
 "Wonderful tiding-s you bring-," said the 
 aspen mocking-ly; "you tell us in this cold 
 winter nig-ht of a new eternal life ? I stretch 
 my bare branches out into the air; and then 
 I am to believe your words ? Let this God 
 whom you announce clothe me with foliag^e, 
 and let the lir tree here bear sweet fruit; 
 then wall I believe what you tell us." 
 
 The ang-el turned to the fir tree. But she 
 was silent; for she was filled with awe, and 
 reverently bowed her slender form before 
 the messeng-er of God. And the ang-el 
 breathed upon her; and behold, — the heavy 
 snow melted from„her branches; and the lit- 
 tle fir tree was adorned with sweet fruits. 
 
 50 
 
The naked boug-hs of the aspen were cov- 
 ered with foliag^e; but the young- leaves 
 trembled and quivered before the g^reat won- 
 der that had come to pass. 
 
 And the angel said, "Thy leaves shall 
 always tremble, to remind thee of thy mock- 
 ery. But thou, dear believing- fir, shalt be 
 a happy tree. As often as the holy night 
 descends upon the earth shall thy branches 
 bear fruits and sweet thing-s, so that every- 
 one who rejoices in thee shall be reminded 
 of the wonderful mystery of Christmas 
 nig-ht. 
 
 And such a tree the Christ Child makes 
 ready for you on Christmas eve. Steal 
 quietly into the room some time when the 
 candles are burnt out and sit alone under its 
 branches and it will tell you its own story. 
 Alice B. Cushing. 
 
 
Old o| iar)iu&^b' into ^I'l^lit, 
 LiU aLuclV&T tVourt cas\ 
 
 IkUS to ])£ W ll&^i^ ^^^%5 
 
 Or mr-} Woii^l Bysumji>t^^^^\ 
 To kndgKiifi ^s^/^^iiN^^rW ? \^ 
 
 \ Mis Jk)Nm^4k^^'^ 
 
 'A ^» %%<7^^ Is siiiua 
 
 Solved not IS % _5)gamiTi8, lllugj), ^ \r!v "^ ^ 
 
 lah Ih; TTi^tsr^ vv/tli Ood 
 
 
 H^502^ 
 
 I ! 
 
A REVERIE ^^'l^^-^^-^'"''^^'^-.^^''^ 
 BY THE ^---c..>v.,/*'-*^ 
 
 HEATHER — ^''^' 
 
 Ay, ay, what dreams hae I had a' thae 3^ears ! Dreams 
 o' the land— if not mj ain — still, land o' m^^ fathers. But 
 what a hazy mirag^e is my rosiest dream compared wi' what 
 mi' ain een look on the day ! 
 
 Resting on this heathery knowe,^ — ahint me, the rashj 
 howe, the whinstane hedg-e, the specks o' green, the near 
 and distant fields o' bonnie, purple heather. Afore me, the 
 tiny, thorn-bounded fields o' yellowing corn, the deep, green 
 grass, where erstwhile bloomed the "wee, modest, crimson- 
 tipped flow'r;" yon thicket o' bracken, ^^on rustling wood, 
 yon glen wha's stony braes gie unco scant fare to the hazel 
 and the rowan tree, yon burn wha's peat-stained waters rush 
 noisily past the w^ee thack biggin and bid me say with 
 its peasant poet: 
 
 "Whyles ower a linn the burnie plays, 
 
 As thro' the glen it wimples; 
 Whyles roun' a rocky scaur it strays, 
 
 Whyles in a weil it dimples.'* 
 
 Nearby, a whinny knowe wi' its ruined keep, its crumb- 
 ling wa's'wi' ivy clad. And at its foot the sleepy clachen, 
 quaint and hoary; the auld, auld Kirk, wha's meenister ever 
 
renews its "Auld, Auld Story;" and the moss-grown slabs 
 whaur "the rude forefathers of the clachen sleep." One 
 modest shaft sentineled by a haw tree tells that here fell 
 and rests ane o' thae saints frae wha's simple life and mar- 
 tyr's death "Auld Scotland's g-randeur spring-s." 
 
 But I maun g"ang-. The sun lang- syne's g-ane doon 
 ahint Knockdohan's sombre dome, the mavds chants his 
 evening- song-, 'tis noo "atweenthe g-loamin' and the mirk," 
 and, tho' enchanted by nature's simple, rural beauty, yet 
 my heart aye fondly turns tae a spot — if indeed no fairer, 
 yet dearer — a prairie hame over the sea. 
 
 Janet Grkig. 
 
-^4M^\hirJ 
 
 TIsli and oreen cja^ l^c oieacioW an^^ 
 odtKed in'lke^ few^ 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^^-' anc! eVhe/ecx\^ b^Q.-LrTYr 9 
 
 ^ ^'^ ^ ^ "^ ^ are b'lio^ji Oiurm. yov! 
 Qlt have Your snoVN^VhitT^ petolT Uen foi^^(^k€ 
 "■ " -^ W "^e bancis oL'the rlnil^J'^r\- 
 
 Vt^YV^om 'tne "^^i-assy ^botWay, ir^ac^pi^c^ and 
 
m 
 
 tptell( 
 
 lo 
 
 -^.. 
 
 yRIl l^5\| I'lK^ ibe )-no)'n; 
 ■"'rhe Oay oui'^oab/^ War Dorr\. 
 
 m^rcipvanlr yLx, ' " 
 
 ;^o wE coul6 only pue55 
 vVTtnin eotrh veinec^ reU 
 
 I ./_ /I On'e d (foci's winds 
 
 r./,f ' 1 , n ^ ^ KoA ^roDoed i:\n?. \\1tW Beci 
 
 ^^ IolsT ^£ bxrd 
 
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 /^ns\Nc\-e6 rnY'Quc€\»on. well. 
 
 r 
 
 .n i rnrnOYte.\\c-". 
 
 56 
 
My \*^^^ ^^W ^'^^- 
 
 " I can luP^uess 
 ^"Who-l' \ies beViino Ihoie eyes 
 So deep an6 blue. 
 
 j\\\ I'vustiul \'5 Hie <^axp 
 lYhicn rneeh rnv oWn. 
 1 woitcheO Jo/ many 6ays 
 
 Its' PeTcxls iVtlit sun 
 0' loN/in-? smvl^-i. 
 
 Jt.\\ ?,V/ljt -iV)c h<xp rr,o/e On_ 
 
 Jovne ^Vaml'^ -Wj-v ^ound The pveol^eyes lool( 
 
 \o leW my rn cVh 6 \'4 o/e *'iln \'ecopniTron ^v/eth 
 
 WVjaJ' 4-1 owev will Comp InTo ii^y own. 
 
 tvom Laby-bu-^. RLoVe ^ OirnpUci Srri\W v/ili ortel' 
 
 The clouds, Q, Vo'i ce v)'^° answer mine. 
 
 1 ^'''^^y i^noerress— /^y eo.6ev eyes v/oulci peev 
 
 "Vne li'ttAe ovies ^jtyono iVje nov^/ — 
 
 ^ujfev -i^ come "b ]Vje , ^Mstjul \ k^ ^t^' Ua.' 
 
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 J^V K\h^c)om 9vea\ Shall Ic" 
 
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 Gl Visits scii \^a\U 
 
 f] 
 
 
 Qnswevec) well 
 
 I Inavc an 
 
 I n^ rn o vteH e ! 
 
 '§■ 
 
 \ 
 
 57 
 
" To strugrg-le, to seek, to find, 
 and never to fail." 
 
 — A^ansc?i. 
 
rbc notne-Coming 
 
 Of ^^^ 
 Tborstcin ericsson 
 
 dh 
 
 Tf 
 
 The Norsemen were nearing- home. For many a day 
 had the rowers toiled hardily at the oars of ash. Day in^ 
 day out, as they stood their shifts at the sweeps, had they 
 listened to the wash of the waves ag-ainst the black sides 
 of the staunch Sea-Otter, had watched the brine-drops 
 g-listening- in the sun-light with the dripping- of the oars. 
 But now were the sweeps hauled in-boards; and the sea- 
 farers lolled idly on the rowing--benches, while the great 
 sail tugged at the sheets, filling- and bellying- as it caught 
 the wind, — the wind that was driving- the sea-rover on a 
 fair course; now the carved otter's head at the prow climbed 
 the slope of a rising- wave, now it plung-ed with a silvery 
 dash of spray adown the slant of sunlit sea. With Leif , 
 son of Eric, and his thirty-five sea-fellows had all happed 
 luckily. In the hold a rare lading- of timber; on deck, 
 tong-ues atremble with tales of marvel, of searching- and 
 finding, of striving- and mastery,— thus were the viking-s 
 homeward-bound, and in every man was the heart lig-ht. 
 Along the sea-line, across the blue plain of swelling- tide, 
 foam-flecked, lay a haze that was neither cloud-land nor 
 fog--bank nor rising- mist; for here and there brig-htly 
 gleamed, as with the whiteness of flame, some peak where 
 
 59 
 
the ice-cap caug-ht the sun. This was Greenland, and one 
 day's faring- more must bring- the Otter safe into Kricslirth 
 where lay the homestead of their kin. Therefore were the 
 Norsemen blithe. 
 
 "Ho, Thorstein, son of Eric," cried one of a g-roup of 
 shipmen sk^'-larking- in the waist. "Cease thy moody 
 dreaming-s and sing- us some brave strain of the home-land. 
 Since dawn hast thou been as g-lum as a drabbled crow in a 
 rain-storm; tune up, friend mine, and let not the wind now 
 do all the piping-." 
 
 "Dcst need to be sung- at, Tyrker?" lazily answered a 
 handsome, dark-haired youth, by half-a-head the tallest of 
 the men on ship-board; leaning- ag^ainst the mast, with 
 arms carelessly folded over his broad chest, he had indeed 
 been staring- unwitting-ly toward the shore, while the sharp 
 prow rose and sank with the easy swell. "Yes, Thorstein; 
 a song-, a song*!" came the clamor of the g-roup; for Thor- 
 stein, Leif's Brother, was a scald of some fame, and had 
 the favor of men second only to Leif him.self. 
 
 "Why, thou freckle-faced pig-my," laug-hed Thorstein, 
 making- as if to hurl a thwart-iron at Tyrker, who was short 
 of body and somewhat misshapen and ug-ly, albeit stout of 
 limb and fond of sport. "Thou dwarf-child; didst sing- a 
 song- of thine own once on a time. I heard thee chattering- 
 and chanting-, thy tong-ue thick with the juice of the wine- 
 berries thou hadst stored. Hast forg-otten, O Tyrker? — thy 
 ship-fellows have not;" — and truly a g-reat laug-hter did 
 straig-htway arise from the crowd; and sounded loudest of 
 all the hoarse voice of Tyrker, for he was a g-ood-natured 
 carl and even when drunk was more like to sing- than to 
 
 60 
 
fig-ht, which tickled the Northmen for it worked otherwise 
 with them; but Tjrker was from the South. 
 
 " 'Tis a true word, brother mine," spoke now Leif, the 
 Earl, who had come forward from the after-deck where the 
 steersman stood, and where Leif Kricsson the most-while 
 staid. " 'Tis a true word; and well I mind me of the song^ 
 friend Tyrker sang- the day we first met the Skralings. 
 Dost remember, Tyrker, the speed of thy footing-s oyer the 
 sand-dunes? 'Twas a merry tune thou g-avest us betwixt 
 thy breathing-s and thy heaving-s. By my shield, Tyrker, 
 I bethoug-ht me of my old hound. Wolf; thy panting-s and 
 thy howling-s were the very same, only I think thy little- 
 leg-g-ed body rolled oyer the g^round more fleetly than ever 
 Wolf had made it." 
 
 Another burst of laug-hter, and when it was past, Tyr- 
 ker, with his face a little awry, took up the word for him- 
 self. 
 
 "True, foster-son, mine," said he. "I did let the 
 Skraling-s see my heel-play on the sand-hills, and mayhap 
 'twas no love-song- thou heardest old Tyrker yelp when he 
 was near enoug-h to reach thine ear. And I bethink me 
 that had there been no dog-, Tyrker, to bark at thee that 
 day, thou and thy northern men mig-ht now be asleep in 
 Wineland yonder, stead of home-sailing- in Sea-Otter, and 
 gibing- thy foster-father for that he is short and ug-ly whilst 
 thou and thy scape-g-race kinsman there be tall and lithe. 
 Nay — I be not ang-ry, Leif," he cried, seeing- a look in the 
 Earl's face, "never ang-ry \\dth thee or Thorstein, Leif 
 Ericsson; too much I love thee both ever to feel hard toward 
 either of thee." 
 
"And if there were wine-juice left in the ship, old 
 Tyrker, thou shouldst have thy fill," cried Leif. "In yery 
 sooth, there is no man here more faithful, foster-father, 
 than thou, and thou must take in good part what thy com- 
 rades put on thee; 'tis a sig-n of their love for thee, and thou 
 knowest rig-ht well what my brother Thorstein and I 
 think/' 
 
 "Make not a quarrel oyer my folly, good Tyrker," said 
 Thorstein, pushing" his way to the old man on whose 
 freckled face once more danced the laugh-light, "and to 
 repay the gibe, shalt have the song thou askedst for; it 
 shall tell the tale of the Norsemen's faring-; and I call it the 
 'Song of Leif, the Happy.'" "But not now, brother," 
 said Leif, "for here is work to do." Audit was so that 
 ere this the Earl, w^ho was in all things best, in eye- 
 sight and in head-w^ork first of all, had seen from the 
 steerage a strange hap. "I think," said Leif, "that 
 yonder is either a ship, or a skerry; and there be men 
 thereon." 
 
 And so it proved; for Leif Ericsson was in all ways 
 truly safe leader, -and in this sea-faring* there came to him 
 much wealth and great fame. Now w^hen the ship neared 
 the skerry, behold fifteen folk stood upon the cliff and they 
 seemed to be in need of help. Called Leif to Tyrker: "O 
 Tyrker, take two men with thee in the skiff and go, ask 
 how this folk fare and what they will." 
 
 And when the Otter had come so near as was safe to 
 the skerry, then put forth Tyrker in the small boat; and 
 the land-folk came swiftly down a foot-way that led to sea- 
 shore and stood there with their belongings. Now it was 
 
a waste land and barren of trees and rocky between the sea 
 and the hill-countr}^ so that the Northmen marvelled that 
 men should be there, and this the more when they saw that 
 in the crowd were two women. By this the small boat was 
 come within hail, and Tjrker called to the leader of the 
 group, "Friend, who art thou — and hast thou need?" "I 
 am called Thorer," said the man on shore, "and I am of 
 northern kin; in sooth we have need and I pray you to take 
 us hence, for there hath been ship-wreck; we be houseless 
 and foodless, and shall starve, happen we g-et not help from 
 you. But who be thy ship-fellows?" 
 
 "We be Leif Ericsson's men and the Earl bids you and 
 your folk to come aboard ship if ye have need," said Tyrker. 
 Then came the g-uests aboard the Otter. Now there were 
 with Thorer, who was also Earl, Gudrid his wife and their 
 daug-hter, Freydis; and twelve men beside who were serv- 
 ing--men and fig-hters; and had been storm-driven on that 
 beach and had suffered some days. So, rig-ht glad were 
 they of Leif's offer. 
 
 But the women were aweary and some-deal faint; thus 
 it happed that Tyrker, who was an awkward man at hand- 
 ling* women and ever uncouth, let slip the maid so that she 
 nigh fell betwixt the skiff and the ship's side; yet haply 
 stood Thorstein by the g-unwale, who quickly reached forth 
 with his hands and caug-ht Freydis, and she lay fainting- in 
 Thorstein's arms. 
 
 Now Freydis was the fairest maid that ever had Thor- 
 stein seen. White like cream was her skin, and her hair 
 that hung low down was like burnished copper when the 
 sun shineth on it. Moreover she was shy before the men- 
 
folk and spake with her mother only, and this seemed griev- 
 ous to Thorstein. But once he would g-o to Leif who stood 
 with the steersman on the after-deck, where also sat the 
 women and Thorer; and when the youth about-faced on 
 his stride, lo, the eyes of the maiden were turned toward his 
 place; bethoug-ht Thorstein never had he seen a look so 
 sweet in maiden's eye before. Yet it seemed that Freydis 
 saw not Thorstein, only the sea and the land beyond; 
 wherefore he heard her say plainly: "There, O mother 
 mine, — there is home; happy is Freydis thy daug-hter, 
 happy, happy!" and Gudrid kissed the maid. Belike they 
 saw not the fading- of the brig-htness from his face. 
 
 That niofht because the wind held fair and there was 
 no need to row, Thorer's troop were joined with Leif's men 
 in a merry-making- near the fore-castle, while Thorer talked 
 with Leif at the stern and the two women sat leaning- on 
 the thwarts and listened, resting-. Then spoke Tyrker 
 among- the shipmen: "Now, Thorstein, foster-son, let 
 us hear that song- thou wottest of; that 'Song- of Leif the 
 Happy,' I think thou calledst it." "The song-, the song-!" 
 cried all. "Nay^ I cannot sing-," said Thorstein, moodily. 
 ''Brn-r grunted Tyrker; "be not so surly. Hast a 
 g-ood voice and a fine wit; never knew I thee to be thus 
 unmannerly nor whimsical before. I pray thee let us hear 
 thee sing-." 
 
 "And if I sing-, it will not please thee, Tyrker", said 
 Thorstein more g-ently. "For the song- thou wouldst hear, 
 that I cannot sing-; and what I will to sing-, that is of a 
 sort that toucheth not thy liking; nevertheless, and as 
 thou wilt." Then Thorstein sang-: 
 
 64 
 
"The white-wing-ed sea-g-ull seeks the shore; 
 
 There are storms out on the deep. 
 I hear the hoarse-toned rollers roar, — 
 
 Pear not, fair lady, sleep; 
 
 Fear not, but sleep! 
 
 "The raven swart now seeks the nest; 
 
 There's a sobbing- in the pines. 
 My weary soul will know no rest, 
 
 Until its love it finds, — 
 
 Its own love finds!" 
 
 Now Thorstein had a strong-, sw^eet voice and it could 
 hardly hap but that they on the after-deck should hear the 
 song-. Still Thorer talked with Leif and the maid lay with 
 her head in Gudrid's lap; maybe she was asleep. 
 
 When Thorstein had thus far sung- the lay, broke 
 Tyrker rudely in; "Now saidst thou more truly than I 
 deemed, ship-fellow, when thou didst g-ive warning- that 
 thy song- should not please. Such Prankish love-lays like 
 me not. Better love I such brave chantings as the w^ander- 
 ing- Saxon broug-ht to Brattalid; fine tales he sang- of Hroth- 
 gar's Hall, and the stout sword-play of Hyg-elac's thane. 
 But what aileth thee, friend Thorstein? the whole day's 
 while hast thou been mooning- and g-looming- with thyself. 
 May thy name-god strike me stark with his hammer but 
 since thou fondled yonder maid " 
 
 What Tyrker had yet on his tongue to say he finished 
 not yet, and in good sooth it is a marvel he said ever aught 
 beside; whereas in that moment Thorstein 's short-sword 
 flashed in the blue moon-light, and the haft struck Tyrk- 
 
 65 
 
er's skull that the old man shut his little eyes, and his 
 white teeth cracked and crunched. "My name-g-od g-ives 
 thee greeting-, Tyrker," said Leif's brother; "and his ham- 
 mer he still keeps for a while." 
 
 Thorstein strode aft to where his brother talked with 
 Thorer. Loud rang- the laug-hter of the carls as Tyrker 
 limped surlily toward the forecastle, muttering- and shak- 
 ing-, whiles he rubbed his broken poll; yet what was in his 
 mind he spake not aloud. 
 
 "Well, good Thorstein," said Earl Thorer, "wilt thou, 
 too, g-o a-faring- like thy brother when the summer be come 
 ag-ain?" "Nay," said the youth, "that cannot I now tell; 
 first is for me a quest near-by home; fail I in that quest, it 
 may well be that I fare sea-ward before the summer." 
 
 Now Thorer looked askance, but Leif, who was ever 
 sharp-sighted, deemed Thorstein's riddle to be no riddle to 
 him; thus he smiled, but spake naug-ht. 
 
 That night was the moon iarg-e and shining- like a 
 piece of new silver freshly rubbed, and for a while were 
 they all quiet. But when the women went to their resting- 
 place below deck, went down first Leif, to show the way, 
 and after him followed Thorer and next Gudrid came; so 
 it happed that the younger woman lingered for a while, 
 looking- on the sea. Then said Thorstein: "Maid, wilt 
 help me in my quest?" Yet was Freydis silent; only whiles 
 she stood before the youth, she raised her e^^es, slow and 
 shy, to Thorstein's eyes, that he looked straight into them; 
 and the moon-light shone upon the maid's face that him- 
 seemed to know of nothing half so fair on earth. "And if I 
 do not know what the quest may be — my lord?" said Freydis. 
 
 66 
 
With the dawn was great g-ladness on the Otter, where- 
 as thej were now near-bj home. Then sailed the North- 
 men g-aily with singing- of sea-song-s and with shouting- and 
 smiting- of blade and brand, into that bay that is called 
 Kricsfirth; and behold, Kric the Red and all the kin-folk 
 were upon the beach, and there they broug-ht the Viking-- 
 ship to haven, and there was feasting- and g-reat mirth; 
 but among- the kindred was no man blither, says the tale, 
 than Thorstein Ericsson. W. E. Simonds. 
 
 V-'iSS^^^^^"^"' .~-i^^ 
 
 67 
 
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 72 
 
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The "Tribute to the Flag-," is a reproduction of the first three 
 pag-es of a lecture on our "Duty to the Government," delivered in 
 Knox Chapel, May 20, 1886. It was written in ink, whereas most of 
 the Doctor's manuscripts are in pencil. 
 
 When the editor beg-an to collect material for the "Sketches," 
 Dr. Bateman was waylaid one morning- as "Old Ned" was 
 slowly propelling- him along- Losey Street. After various 
 pleasantries had passed, the plan of the book was broached, 
 in which the Doctor was g-reatly interested; but when a 
 proposition was made for the "Outside Seat" incident, he laughed 
 heartily, tho' would only sa^', "We'll see." The next time the mat- 
 ter was urg-ed, he asked quizzically, "Do you really want to have 
 that old thing-, Professor?" The aid of his niece was then invoked, 
 and she was allowed several da^^s in which to secure the coveted 
 privilege; and, even then, when the editor called at "The Farm" for 
 the final decision. Miss Lee followed Dr. Bateman into seclusion 
 whence he had retreated, but soon returned with the triumphant re- 
 ply that 'the little uncle' would g-rant the request." Soon the "little 
 uncle" himself appeared, in his happiest mood, and with many a g-ay 
 repartee received the thanks that g-reeted the announcement. Alas, 
 that this should be the final interview! On the afternoon and even- 
 ing- before Dr. Bateman's death, he spent several hours searching 
 for the desired lecture, as his niece afterwards said, stopping only 
 with the dusk. A pile of manuscripts of California lectures 
 found on his desk testified to the thoroug-hness of the quest. The 
 episode of the race, as he relates it, displays a side of the g-ood 
 Doctor's character that we all knew and loved. 
 
 The poem of Dr. Bateman's quoted here is the conclusion of the 
 lecture in which the race for the outside seat is so charming-ly told. 
 The day after that incident he went with a party of friends to 
 "Pebble Beach," at Pescadero; and during- the afternoon he made 
 his way, alone, to a cleft in the rocks of a promontory projecting- far 
 out into the sea. "Does not such an afternoon," he exclaims, "give 
 a new meaning to the words, 'Nearer, my God, to Thee?' Should 
 not vanit)' and littleness and selfishness and meanness and all 
 hatreds and despicableness be drowned to death in such floods ? 
 How tempted we are to speak to that mighty personality, so corre- 
 late in its passions and its calm to our own! May I confess," he 
 adds, " that I found the temptation irresistible, as I sat alone, in 
 that wonderful presence, on that memorable summer's afternoon." 
 
 For the reproductions from Eug-ene Field g-iven in connection 
 with Mrs. Coulson's poem, a volume of the poet's original manu- 
 
 74 
 
scripts was kindly loaned b_v Mrs. Field. The photographs were 
 taken under the editor's personal supervision, the precious book not 
 being- allowed out of his sig-ht. In the illustration, "The Sug-ar- 
 Plum Tree," of the two birds perched upon the limb the one on the 
 left is a redrawing- of Mr. Field's idea of "The Dinkey Bird," as 
 sketched by him at the head of the orig-inal copy of the poem of 
 that name. The other bird on the limb is supposed to be "Fiddle- 
 Dee-Dee." 
 
 "Lincoln at Gettysburg-," is taken from the peroration of a Dec- 
 oration Day address delivered by the Hon. Clark E. (-^arr at Gales- 
 burg-, May 30, 1879. Aside from its literary value, it has a distinct 
 historic interest as being the word painting- of an eye witness of 
 the immortal scene it portrays. Colonel Carr was a member of the 
 Commission having- the Gettysburg- ceremonies in charg-e, and it 
 was at his sug-g-estion that President Lincoln was invited to deliver 
 an address. 
 
 The autograph of President Lincoln at the head of this article 
 is a reproduction of a copy generously loaned by his son, the Hon- 
 orable Robert T. Lincoln, of Chicago. Mr. Lincoln observed that 
 he had but few autographs of his father and that these were all, or 
 nearly all, affixed to bank checks, except the President's signature 
 to his son's commission in the army. The autograph furnished was 
 taken from a bank check made out to an insurance company, and 
 was dated by Abraham Lincoln, "Springfield, Sept. 5, 1860." 
 
 The artistic illustrations in Mrs. Cushing's translation are the 
 w^ork of Walter Caspari, a personal friend of hers in Munich. The 
 bit of entree work is by the same talented artist. 
 
 To the editor of "The Interior" thanks are due for his courteous 
 permission to use "The Plaint of the Leaves." 
 
 The following comment outlines the material upon which is 
 based the Norse Idyl by Professor Simonds: In the royal library at 
 Copenhagen is an ancient manuscript book which contains historic 
 records of the Norsemen until the end of the fourteenth century. 
 That portion of the book which deals with the voyages to America 
 previous to the coming of Columbus, was photographed b}- royal 
 command and arranged with a translation in a handsome volume 
 for exhibition at the World's Fair of 1893. Only a few copies of 
 this volume exist, and by the kindness of the Hon. Clark E. Carr, 
 to whose interest and effort largely, the very existence of this re- 
 production is due, one copy found its wa^' to the Knox College Li- 
 brary, where, under the title of "The Flatey Book," it may be seen 
 
 75 
 
by all. In the chronicle descriptive of the return voyag-e from 
 Wineland, occur the following- lines: 
 
 "Sailed now after that to sea and got fair wind until they saw 
 Greenland and fells under the glaciers; then took a man to speak 
 and quoth to Leif , 'Why steerest thou the ship so much under the 
 wind?' Leif answers, 'I take care of my rudder, but of more than 
 that besides; or what do you see remarkable?' They answered that 
 they saw nothing remarkable. 'I do not know,' said Leif, 'if I see a 
 ship or a skerry [i. e. promontory].' Now they saw^ it and said 
 it to be a skerry; he saw yet sharper than they, so that he saw men 
 on the skerry. 'Now I will that we beat against the wand,' said 
 Ivcif, 'so as to get near to them.' * * * Now they sailed to the 
 skerry and let g-o, cast anchor, and put out another little boat which 
 they had with them. Then Tj'rker asked w^ho w^as the leader of the 
 party. He told himself to be called Thorer and to be of Northern 
 kin; 'but what is thy name?' Leif told it him. 'Art thou son of 
 Eric the Red, of Brattalid,' says he. I^eif replied that so he was. 
 *Now I will,' says I^eif , 'bid you all on my ship and those goods that 
 the ship will hold.' They accepted those terms and sailed after- 
 wards to Kricsfirth." 
 
 lyater it transpires that Thorer's wife, Gudrid, w^as one of the 
 little company thus rescued by Leif Ericsson; but, strangely 
 enough, the earlier historian makes no mention of Thorer's daugh- 
 ter, Frej'dis; nor does he deal with numerous other interesting de- 
 tails of the voyage, which, on his part, certainly constitutes a 
 g-rave neglect of obvious duty. It is therefore to supply some of 
 these deficiencies in the record that this second account of the home- 
 coming of Thorstein Ericsson has been related by Professor Simonds, 
 who declares that there is much more of interest yet to tell, only 
 time and space forbid a longer narrative here. 
 
 The heather spray at the head of Miss Greig's "Reverie," is a 
 drawing from a bit of white heather received from Scotland within 
 the last few weeks. This kind of heather is very rare and is re- 
 g-arded much as the four-leaved clover is with us, being eagerly 
 sought for as a token of g-ood luck. May it bring- an abundant store 
 of that desirable article to every reader of this amiable little book, 
 is the cordial wish of 
 
 The Editor. 
 
 76 
 

i 
 
p 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 017 165 466 A 4