^ , "PICKED UP HERE AND THERE" ^ B U AND |*"Gleanings From The Gullies" Price $1.00 Published and For Sale By J. C. STUTTS, Hia>v River, N. G. '.. X,, % "Picked Up Here and There" AND From The Gullies" IPublished and For Sale By J. C. STUTTS, JHa^w River, N. C. J. C. STUTTS and father G. D. STUTTS G. D. Stutts was born in Moore County, N. C, March 22, 1842, and moved to Alamance in 1886. He was the author of ' ' Picked Up Here and There," which had a large sale in Alamance and surrounding counties. He died April 30, 1918. AUTHOR'S NOTE "Picked Up Here and There'* and "Gleanings from the Gullies" is composed of poetry, wit, and useful information, part of which was fathered by G. D. Stutts, of Alamance County for publication in book form, but who died before perfecting the same. His son, J. C. Stutts, has decided to finish the work as a memorial to his father and herewith presents the work to the public, feeling that it is worthy of its ap- p roval. I U^ ' ' ''Picked up Here and There'' and ^ ' Gleanings from the Gullies.'' 5. THE MODEL CHURCH. Well, wife, I've found the model church. And worshiped there, today; It made me think of good old times, Before my hair was gray, The meeting-house was finer built Than they were years ago, But then, I found when I went in. It was not built for show. The sexton did not sit me down Away back by the door, He knew that I was old and deaf. And saw that I was poor. He must have been- a Christian man, He led me boldly through The crowded aisle of that grand church To find a pleasant pew. I wish you^I heard that singing, wife, It had the old-time ring; The preacher said, with trumpet voice, ''Let all the people sing!" ''Old Coronation" was the tune. The music upward rolled. Until I thought the angel-choir Struck all their harps of gold. ^ My deafness seemed to melt away, My spirit caught the fire; I joined my feeble, trembling voice With that melodious choir, And sang as in my youthful days, "Let angels prostrate fall; Bring forth the royal diadem And crown him Lord of all!" The preacher! well, I can't just tell All that preacher said, I know it wasn't written — I know it wasn't read; He hadn't time to read it, for The lightning of his eye Went flashing 'long from pew to pew Nor passed a sinner by. 'Twas not a flow'ry sermon, wife, But simple Gospel truth, It fitted humble men, like me; It suited hopeful youth; To win immortal souls to Christ The earnest preacher tried; He talked not of himself or creed, But Jesus, crucified. 'How swift the golden moments flew, Within this holy place! How brightly beamed the light of heaven^ From every happy face! Again I longed for that sweet time When friend shall meet with friend, "Where congregations ne'er break up, And Sabbaths have no end." I hope to meet that minister — That congregation, too — In that dear home beyond the stars That shine from heaven's blue; I doubt not I'll remember, Beyond life's evening gray. That happy hour of worship In the model church, today. I tell you, wife, it did me good To sing that hymn once more I felt like some wrecked mariner Who gets a glimpse of shore, I almost want to lay aside This weather-beaten form, And anchor in the blessed port Forever from the storm! Dear wife, the toil will soon be o'er, The vict'ry soon be won; The shining land is just ahead, Our race is almost run. We're nearing Canaan's happy shore,^ Our home so bright and fair, Thank God, we'll never sin again, "There'll be no sorrow there!" 6. (( Picked up Here and There.'' ANNABEL LEE. It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee: And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love, and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child. In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and Annabel Lee — "With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. -And this was the reason that long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of cloud-land, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her high-born kinsman came And bore her away from me. To shut her up in a sepulchre, In the kingdom by the sea. The angels, not so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me, Yes! that was the reason (as all men know) In this kingdom by the sea; That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we; Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. For the moon never beams without bring- ing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee, And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of mj daring, my life, and my bride In her sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea. — EDGAE ALLAN POE. IN THE BAGGAGE COACH AHEAD. On a dark stormy night, as the train rat- tled on, All the passengers had gone to bed, Except one young man with a babe on his arm. Who sat there with a bowed-down head. The innocent one commenced crying just then. As though its poor heart would break. One angry man said, ''Make that child stop its noise. For you're keeping all of us awake." "Put it out," said another; ''don't keep it in here, "We've paid for our berths and want rest." But never a word said the man with the child, As he fondled it close to his breast. "Where is its mother? Go, take it to her—" This a lady then softly said, "I wish that I could," was the man's sad reply, "But she's dead in the coach ahead." Every eye filled with tears when his story- he told, Of a wife who was faithful and true, He told how he'd saved up his earnings for years Just to build up a home for two. / '' Gleanings from the Gullies. 7. How, when Heaven had sent them this sweet little babe, Their youag happy 'lives were blessed. Iji tears he broke down when he mention- ed her name, Aad in teai's tried to tell them the rest. Every woman arose to assist with the child; There were mothers and wives on that train, ^ And soon w^s the little one sleeping in peace, With no thoughts of sorrow and pain. Next morn ' at a station he bade all good- bye. '*God bless you," he softly said. Each one had a story to tell in their home. Of the baggage coach ahead. While the train rolled onward a husband sat in tears, Thinking of the happiness of just a few short years, For baby's face brings pictures of a cher- ished hope that's dead; Hut baby's cries can't wake her in the baggage coach ahead. A LITTLE PILGRIM. Or, Jesus Paid the Fare. This anecdote, in rhyme, has a history, the half of which I cannot tell. It was picked up by an old man in my district, much worn; he read, it and with God's blessing it did him real good. He read it to a dying woman, and through it she was led to the Savior It came into my hands, and I had it printed, and 142,000 copies have already been circulated. Many pleas- ant letters have been sent me, telling glad tidings of its usefulness. ^'Not by might, nor by power, but by .my Spirit, saith the liord of Hosts." X EENNIE. One summer's evening, ere the sun went down. When city men were hastening from the town, To reach their Vionies — some near at hand, some far — By snorting train, by omnibus or ear, To be beyond the reach of city's din — A tram-car stopped, a little girl got in: A cheery looking girl, scarce four years old; Although not shy, her manners were not bold; But all alone! one scarce could understand. She held a little bundle in her hand — A tiny handkerchief with corners tied, But which did not some bread and butter hide ; A satin scarf, so natty and so neat. Was o'er her shoulders thrown. She took her seat, And laid her bundle underneath her arm. And smiling prettily, but yet so calm, She to the porter said, ''May I lie here?" He answered instantly, ''O, yes, my dear." And there she seemed inclined to make her stay, .- . While once again the tram went on its way. The tall conductor — over six feet high, Now scanned the travelers with a business eye; But in that eye was something kind and mild. That took the notice of the little child. A little after, and the man went round, And soon was heard the old familiar sotind Of gathering pence, and clipping tickets too — The tram was full and he had much to do, ''Your fare, my little girl," at length he said. She looked a moment, shook her little ^ head— "My fare is paid, and Jesus paid for me?^' 8. a Picked up Here and There. ^' He looked bewildered — all the people smiled: ^'1 didn't know; and who is Jesus, child?" ''Why, don't you know He once for sin- ners died, For little children, and for men beside, To make us good, and wash us from our sin: Is this His railway I am traveling in?" "Don't think it is! I want your fare, you know. ' ' "I told you Jesus paid it long ago: My mother told me just before she died, That Jesus paid when He was crucified; That at the cross His railway did begin, Which took poor sinners from a world of sin. My mother said His home was grand and fair, I want to go and see my mother there — I want to go to heaven, where Jesus lives. Won't you go too? My mother said he gives A loving welcome — -shall we not be late? let us go before He shuts the gate; He bids us little children come to Him." The poor conductor's eyes felt rather dim. He knew not why — he fumbled at his coat. And felt a substance rising in his throat. The people listened to the little child, Some were in tears — the roughest only smiled. And some one whispered as they looked amazed: "Out of the mouth of babes the Lord is praised." "I am a pilgrim," said the little thing; "I'm going to heaven. My mother used to sing To me of Jesus and His Father's love; Told me to meet her in His home above. And so today when aunt went out to tea. And looking out I could not father see, 1 got my bundle — kissed my litle kit, % (I am so hungry — wont you have a bit?") And got my hat, and then I left my borne,. A little pilgrim up to heaven to roam; And then your carriage stopped, and T could see You looked so kind. I saw you beckon me,. I thought you must belong to Jesus' train. And are you just going home to heiven again ? " The poor conductor only shook Ms head; Tears in his eyes — the power of speech had fled. Had conscience by her prattle roused his- fears, And struck upon the fountain of his tears; And made his thoughts in sad confusion whirl; At last he said, "Once I''d a little girl,. I loved her much; she was my little pet. And with great fondness I remember yet How much she loved me. But one day she died." "She's gone to heaven," the little girl re- plied; "She's gone to Jeusus — Jesus paid her fare. Oh, dear conductor, won 't you meet her there?" The poor conductor now broke fairly down; He could have borne the hardest look or frown. But no one laughed; but many sitting hy Beheld the scene with sympathetic eye. He kissed the child, for she his heart had won. "I am so sleepy," said the little one, "If you will let me, I'll lie here and wait Until your carriage comes to Jesus' gate; Be sure you wake me up, and pull my- frock, And at the gate give just one little knockl And you'll see Jesus there!" The strong man wept I could but think as from the car I stept. How oft a little one has found the road. The narrow, pathway to that, blest abode; (C Gleanings from the Gullies f> Through faith in Christ has read its title clear, While learned men remain in doubt and fear. A little child the Lord oft uses such To break or bend, the stoutest heart to touch, Then by His Spirit bids the conflict cease, And once forever enter into peace. And then along the road the news we bear, We're going to heaven — that Jesus paid our fare! —DICKIE HYMBE. Telling the tired heart the song It sang in years gone by. Beautiful hands are always found Where the heaviest duties lie. BEAUTIFUL HANDS. Beautiful hands are not always white, Shapely and fair to see; But are often cast in an humble mold. And are brown as brown can be. Useful hands that are ready to take Life's duties one by one; Hands that are willing to reap and glean Till the reaper's work is done. Lifting the burdens we find so hard To bear through life's long day; Brushing the dead leaves sorrow drops From out the tangled way. Gentle hands, between whose palms The weary face may lie; Beautiful hands, that softly tell For sorrow ''the reason why." Hands whose touch remains for years; Dear hands though folded low, Whose magic thrill within our souls Whispers ''We loved you so." CHRIST'S LILIES. (By Margaret Floyd.) "Hush my, babe, lie still and slumber Sang a mother sweet and low, As she gently rocked the cradle. In the twilight, to and fro. 'MIoiy angels guard the sleeping, Keep my childro.i from harm and sin, As he grows to manhood's stature. Fair without and pure within." So we mothers fain would keep them, Knowing not that which is best, Only try to do our duty And trust Jesus for the rest. In his garden walks the Master In the tender evening light. Sees the violets and the roses And the lilies, tall and white. Pauses long beside the lilies. Snowy flowers he loves the best. Then he gathers for his bosom One more fair than all the rest. So he sees our little children, Pure and fair as lilies white. And he takes them to his bosom, They are "precious in his sight." Warm, human hands that once we held So close within our own; Though clasped, so cold, their silent clay Still speaks in love's low tone. * Let us cease our bitter weeping For the babies gone away. We shall find them in his keeping In the land of "cloudless day." 10. (< Picked lip Here and There." THE DRUNKARD'S SOLILOQUY. Backward, turn backward, O time, in your flight, And make me a man again, .iust for tonight ; Let me shake off these vile rags that I wear. Cleanse me from all this foul stain that I bear; Oh let me stand where I stood long ago. Freed from these sorrows, unknown to this woe; Freed from a life that is cursing my soul, Unto death while the years of eternity roll. Yet the tide rushes on, this wild flight of the years. And the days only deepen my sorrows and fears, I call, but no answer comes back to me now. Naught but an echo as weak as my vow. For 'neath the sad cypress tree, now in the sod. Lies the body whose soul has gone back to its God, And out of the silence no child voices come, As in days long ago in my sweet, happy home. Backward, turn backward, oh fast-flowing stream, Would that my life could prove only a dream! Let me forget the black sins of the past; Let me undo all my folly so vast; Let me live over the life that is gone; Bring back the dark, wasted years that are flown ; Backward, turn backward, O time, in your flight. And make me a man again, just for tonight. Back, Yes, turn backward, ye swift-roll- ing years! Why does your memory bring forth these hot tears? Why comes this vision of life lost in sin? Why am I thinking of what might have been? Where is my home, once so happy and bright? Where is that face whose own presence was light? Where are the children who climbed on my knee? Back, flowing tide! bring them once more to me! Backward? Nay, Time ri(,shes onward and on; 'Tis the dream that comes back of the days that are gone, I yielded my strength when I could have been strong; I would fly, but alas! I had lingered too long. The hell hound had seized me — my will was not mine. Destruction was born in the sparkling of wine! So, in weakness, I totter through gloom to the grave, A sovereign in birth, but in dying — a slave! — Texas Advocate. A HOODOO COIN. For those who believe in the fatality of the number 13 the American qiilarter doL lar is about the most unlucky article they can carry. On the said coin there are 13 stars, 13 letters in the scroll which the eagle holds in its claws, 13 feathers are in its tail, there are 13 parallel lines on the shield, 13 horizontal stripes, 13 arrow- heads and 13 letters in the words ''quar- ter dollar." (( Gleanings from the Gullies y 11. WHAT A BOY COULD DO. He was small for his age worked in a signal box and booked the trains. One day the men were chafing him about being so small. One of them said: "You will never amount to much. You will never be able to pull these levers; you are too small. ' ' The little fellow looked at them. '^Well, " he said, '*I can do something that none of you can do." "Ah, What is that?" they all cried. "I don't know that I ought to tell you." They were all anxious to know, and urged him to tell them what he could do that none of them were able to do. Said one of the men: "What is it, boy?" ' '■ I can keep from swearing and drink- ing, " replied the little fellow. There were blushes on the men's faces, and they didn't seem anxious for any further information on the subject. JUST AS THE SUN WENT DOWN. Words and Music by Lyn Udall. After the din of the battle roar, just at the closing of day, Wounded and bleeding upon the field, two dying soldiers lay; ^ One held a ringlet of thin gray hair, one held a lock of brown, Bidding each other a last farewell, just as the sun went down. Chorus — One thought of mother, at home alone, feeble and old and grey; One of the sweetheart, he left in town, happy and young and gay. One kissed a ringlet of thin grey hair, one kissed a lock of brown. Bidding farewell to the Stars and Stripes, just as the sun went down. One knew the joy of a mothers love, one of a sweetheart fair, Thinking of home, they lay side by side, breathing a farewell pray'r; One for his mother so old and grey, one for his love in town; They closed their eyes to the earth and skies, just as the sun went down. (Chorus) WHERE IS MY BOY TONIGHT? Where is my wand 'ring boy tonight — The boy of my tenderest care. The boy that was once my joy and light, The child of my love and prayer? Chorus — O where is my boy tonight? O where is my boy tonight? '^ My heart o'er flows, for I love him, he knows; O where is my boy tonight? Once he was pure as morning dew, As he knelt at his mother's knee; No face was so bright, no heart more true, And none was so sweet as he. O could I see you now, my boy, As fair as in olden time. When pratl:le and smile made home a joy. And life was a merry chime! Go for my wand 'ring boy tonight; Go, search for him where you will; But bring him to me with all his blight. And tell him I love him still. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. 12. a Picked up Here and There/' His hair is crisp, and black and long; His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat — He earns whatever he can, He looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. \Veek in, week out, from morn till night. You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge. With measured beat and slow. Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door; They love to see the flaming forge. And hear the bellows roar. And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing floor He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys;; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughters voice. Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice. It sounds to him like her mothers voice. Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more. How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling — rejoicing — sorrowing. Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done. Has earned a night's repose. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend. For the lesson thou hast taught! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its, sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought! — ^Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. PLEA FOR FACTORY PEOPLE. I. Folks think we factory people Are an unimportant set; And the reason we are made thus We have not found out yet. II. But after we went to work in factories, And bosses we had to obey. We worked both late and early, Drawing very little pay. III. Well w^e confess, we're unimportant In one sense of the word, For to the trump of earthly fame Our names are never heard. IV. There are people in the factories That are noble, true and kind, And underneath their oil clothes Beats a heart with loving mind. )i That will divide with those in need If we only have one dime, We trust the Lord will give it back To us some other time. VI. We claim no treasures here on earth, y In silver, gold, or rank, We had rather give to the cause of God Than to deposit in a bank. VII. And thus it is while at our work. When we card, or spin, or weave. We try to be contented, For we have no time to grieve. VIII. While the roar of the lapper and slubber, And speed and clash of the loom. Puts sorrow, care, and pain to flight, And dispels a cloud of gloom. ti Gleanings from the Gullies. f> 13. IX. Yes, we all forget our troubles, And our trials here below, As we listen to our shuttles While they rattle to and fro. X. Yes, we watch the busy shuttle. As back and forth it speeds. And with pleasure watch the cut mark, While coming through the reeds. XI. Oh, if I was a millionaire. Or financially so stout. Or could own the whole creation, And ride in a fine turnout; XII. I could not then rest satisfied, Unless I had to go, And start my work to running At the second whistle blow. XIII. Then say you don't like factory folks. That's sinful brother, I declare; If you should reach that heavan above You will meet factory people there. XIV. If we should meet each other. Where the crystal water flows. We will have no oil on our hands Nor lint cotton on our clothes. — G. D. STUTTS. ON THE BANKS OF THE WABASH. Bound my Indiana homestead waved the cornfield. In a gloomy distant woodland, clear and cool, Oftentimes my thoughts revert to scenes of childhood Where I first received my lessons na- ture's school. But one thing there is missing in the pic- ture. Without her face it seems so incomplete; I long to see my mother in tho doorway As she stood there years ago^ her boy to greet. C horus — Oh, the moonlight's there tonight along the Wabash, From the fields there comes a breath of new-mown hay, Tlirough the sycamores the candlelights are gleaming On the banks of the Wabash far away. Alany years have passed since I strolled by the river. Arm in arm with sweetheart Mary by my side. It was there I tried to tell her that I loved her, It was there I asked of her to be my bride. Many years have passed since I strolled through the church-yard, She is sleeping there, • my angel Mary dear, I loved her but she thought I did not mean it ; ' I'd give my future life if she was only here. Chorus. — A RAILROAD MAN'S PRAYER. Not long since an old railroad man who drifted in church where a revival service was going on was asked to lead in prayer. He said: Oh! Lord, now that I have flagged Thee, lift up my feet off the rough road and plant them safely on the platform of the train of salvation; let me use the safety lamp known as prudence, make all the couplings on the train with the strong link of Thy love, and let my hand-lamp be the Pdble, and Heavenly Father, keep all the switches that lead off on sidings, especially those with a blind end. Oh! Lrord, if it 14. Picked up Here and There." be Thy pleasure have every semaphore light along the line show the white light of hope, that I may make the run of life without stopping, and Lord give us the Ten Commandments for a schedule and when I have finished the run on schedule time, pulled into the great dark station of death, may Thou the Superintendent of the Universe, say well done, thou good and faithful servant, come and sign the pay- roll and receive a check for eternal hap- piness. Amen. TRUTH. Children, choose it, don 't refuse it, 'Tis a precious diadem; Highly prize it, never despise it, For you will need it when you are men. Watch and guard it, do not discard it, 'Tis more precious far than gold, Love and cherish, keep and nourish, For you will need it when you are old. Then endeavor, now and ever, Keep this blessed treasure nigh Always own it, never leave it, For you will need it when you die. GREAT LAKE RAILROAD. Passengers Time Table. Lv. Disobedient Ave 7:00 a. m. Lv. Cigaretteville 7:30 a. m. Lv. Secret Sin Tunnel 8:00 a. m. Lv. Liars' Cross Eoads 8:05 a. m. Lv. Pop (Watering tank) 8:35 a. m. Lv. Cider Village 9:00 a. m. Lv. Saloonville 9:45 a. m. Lv. Tippleton 10:00 a. m. Lv. Theater Heights 10:30 a. m. Lv. Gambler's Inn 11:00 a. m, Lv. Thief (Flag station) 11:40 a. m. Lv Drunkards' Tavern 12:00 m. One hour for dinner and sight-seeing. Lv. Drunkards' Tavern 1:00 p. m. Lv. Blasphemers' Furnace ....1:45 p. m. Lv. Quarrel Town 2:40 p. m. Lv. Murderers' Valley 3:30 p. m. Lv. Jail City Landing 4:00 p. m. Lv Courthouse Crossing 5:10 p. m. 30 minutes to make up special train to Hangaman's Gap. Lv. Poverty Lane 6:00 p. m. Lv. Mortgageville 7:00 p. m. Lv. Suicide Junction 8:15 p. m. Lv. Big Spreetown _..9:45 p. m. Lv. Delirium Eapids 11:00 p. m. Ar. at Great Lake, or Perdition (outer darkness) at midnight. ''The fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whore- mongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters and all liars, SHALL HAVE THEIR PART IN THE LAKE, which burneth with fire and brimstone; which is the second death." Some become weary and fatigued in seeing such unexpected scenery, and decide to take the Lightning Express at Suicide Junction, after which there are no more &tops until they reach the Fearful Lake. There are no return tickets on this line as all trains run in one direction. This line is well equipped with sleepers for the accommodation of proud, formal church members. It is an old established line, very often called ''The Popular Route." Sacred writ recognizes it as the "Broad Way, ' ' and ' ' many there be ' ' i^ass over it. It also mentions it as a "Way that seem- eth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death." Thirty days has September, April, June and November; All the rest have thirty.one, Except February alone, Which has but twenty-eight in fine, Till leap year gives it twenty-nine. '^Gleanings from the Gullies/' 15. ORIGINAL DIXIE. Southerners, hear your country call you? Up! lest worse than death befall you! To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! Lo! all the beacon-fires are lighted, Let all hearts be now united! To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! Advance the flag to Dixie! Hurrah! hurrah! For Dixie's land we'll take our stand, To live or die for Dixie! To arms! to arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! Hear the Northern thunders mutter! Northern flags in South winds flutter! To arms! etc. Send them back your fierce defiance! Stamp upon the accursed alliance! To arms! etc. Advance the flag of Dixie! etc. Fear no danger! shun no labor! Lift up rifle, pike, and sabre! To arms! etc. Shoulder pressing close to shoulder, Let the odds- make each heart bolder! To arms! etc. Advance the flag of Dixie! etc. How the South 's great heart rejoices At your cannons ringing voices; To arms! etc. For faith betrayed and pledges broken, To arms! etc. Advance the flag of Dixie! etc. Strong as lions, swift as eagles, Back to their kennels hunt these beagles! To arms! etc. Cut the unequal bonds asunder! Let them hence each other plunder! To arms! etc. Advance the flag of Dixie! etc. Swear upon your country's altar, Never to submit or falter; To arms! etc. Till the spoilers are defeated, Till the Lord's work is completed, To arms! etc. Advance the flag of Dixie! etc. Halt not till our Federation Secures among earth's powers its station! To arms! etc. Then at peace, and crowned with glory, Hear your children tell the story! To arms! etc. Advance the flag of Dixie! etc. If the loved ones weep in sadness, Victory soon shall bring them gladness; To arms! etc. Exultant pride soon" banish sorrow; Smiles chase tears away tomorrow. To arms! etc. Advance the flag of Dixie! etc. OLD COTTAGE HOME. Im thinking tonight of my old cottage home That stands on the brow of the hill. Where in life 's early morning I once loved to roam, But now all is quiet and still. Chorus — Oh, my old cottage home. That stands on the brow of the hill, Where in life's early morning I once lov- ed to roam, But now all is quiet and still. Many years have gone by since in prayer there I knelt. With dear ones around the old heart. But my mother's sweet prayers in my heart are still felt, r treasure them up wliile on earth., 16. a Picked up Here and There." One by one they have gone from my old cottage home, On earth I shall see them no more, But I hope we shall meet round the beau- tiful throne Where parting will come never more. ST. PETER AT THE GATE. OR **The Last Shall Be First; and the First ShaU Be Last." St. Peter^ stood guard at the golden gate. With a solemn mien and an air sedate, When up to the top of the golden stair A man and a woman, ascending there. Applied for admission. They came and stood Before St. Peter so great and good, In hopes the city of peace to win, To ask St. Peter to let them in. ^'I've tDld the sinners about the day When they'd repent of their evil way; I've told my neighbors, IVe told 'em all, 'Bout Adam and the primal fall; I've shown them what they had to do If they'd pass in with the chosen few; I've marked their path of duty clear. Laid out the plan for their whole career. ''I've talked and talked to 'em loud and long. For my lungs are good and my voice is strong, So, Good St. Peter, you'll plainly see The gate of heaven is open to me. But my old man, I regret to say. Hasn't walked straight in the narrow way; He smokes and\ swears, and grave faults he's got. And I don't know whether he'll pass or not The woman was tall and lank and thin, With a stragly beardlet on her chin, The man was short, and thick and stout. His stomach was built so it rounded out. His face was pleasant and all the while. He wore a kindly and gentle smile, The choirs in the distance the echoes awoke ^nd the man kept still while the woman spoke. "He never would pray with an earnest vim. Or go to a revival or join in a hymn; So I had to leave him in sorrow there. While I with the chosen united in prayer. He ate what the pantry chose to afford. Sure, it was not piled up on the board. And if cucumbers were all he got. It's a chance if he merited them or not. ''^Oh, thou who guardest the gates," said she, '*We come hither beseeching thee To let us enter the heavenly land. And play our harps with the angel band, Of me St. Peter there is no doubt. There is nothing from heaven to bar me out, I've been to meeting three times a week, And almost always I'd rise and speak. ''But, oh, St. Peter, I love him so, To the pleasure of heaven, please let him go, I've done enough — a saint I've been. Won't that atone? Can't you let him in? By my grim gospel I know it is so That the unrepentant must fry below, But isn't there some way you can see, That he may enter who is dear to me? '^Gleanings from the Gullies. 17. "It is a narrow gospel which I pray, But the chosen expect to find some way Of coaxing, or fooling, or bribing you So that their relations can amble through, And say, St. Peter, it seems to me This gate is not kept as it ought to be; You ought to stand right by the opening there -And never sit down in that easy chair. **And say, St, Peter, my sight is dimmed, But I don't like the way your whiskers are trimmed; They are out too wide, and outward toss, They'd look better narrow — out sti-aight across; Well, we must be going our crowns to win. So open St. Peter, and we'll pass in." So St. Peter sat and stroked his staff, But spite of his office he had to laugh, Then he said with a fiery gleam in his eye: *^ Who's tending this gate — you or I?" And then he arose in his stature tall And pressed a button upon the wall. And said to the imp who answered the bell, "Escort this lady around to hell.' The man stood still as a piece of stone — Stood s^dly, gloomily there alone, A life-long settled idea he had That his wife was good and he was bad. He thought if the woman went down be- low, V That he would certainly have to go; That if she went to the regions dim, There wasn't a ghost of a show for him. Slowly he turned by habit bent, To follow wherever the woman went, St. Peter standing on duty there. Observed that the top of his head was bare. He called the gentleman and said: "Friend, how long have you been wed?" "Thirty years!" (with a heavy sigh.) And then he thoughtfully added, "Why?' St. Peter was silent with head bent down He raised his head and scratched his crown. Then seemed *a different thought to take, Slowly half to himself he spake: "Thirty years with that woman there; No wonder that man hasn't any hair, Swearing is wicked, smoke's no good; He smoked and swore — I should think he would. "Thirty years with that tongue so sharp? Ho, Angel Gabriel, give him a harp, A jeweled harp with a golden string! Good sir, pass in where the angels sing Gabriel, give him a seat alone — One with a cushion — up near the throne; Call up the angels to play their best, Let him enjoy the music and rest. "See that on the finest ambrosia he feeds, He's had about all the hell he needs; It isn't hardly the thing to do To roast him on earth and the future too." They gave him a harp with golden strings, A glimmering robe and a pair of wings, And he said as he entered the realm of day, "Well, this beats cucumbers anyway." And so the scriptures had come to pass, That, "The last shall be first, and the first * shall be last." MOTHER. In all the world, go where you will. You'll never :^nd another. Who'll stick to you through good or ill, And love you like a mother. In all the world where'er you roam, With sister, wife or brother. You'll never know so sweet a home, As that made by mother. 18. i ( Picked up Her e and There,'' in all the world though wealth commands, For you the work of others; You ^11 never find a pair of h^nds To toil for you like mother's. We have no right to judge a man, Until he is fairly tried; Should we not like his company, We know the world is wide. In all the world, although you should, In riches nearly smother; You'll taste no cooking half so good, As that prepared by mother. In all the world, though friends sincere. And more to 'you than brothers; Youll never for a moment hear A voice so kind as mother 's. Some have faults, but who have not; The old as well as young; Pel haps wc may, for aught we know, Have fifty to their one. I'll tell you of a better plan, And find it works as well; To try my own defects to cure, Before or others tell. In all the world, although you break The tender hearts of others; There is no heart can ever ache For you as much as mother's. In all the world, though you create A pleasure for another; You can give none a joy so great. As you can give to mother. In all the world, although a wife. May you in goodness smother; There 's none who '11 sacrifice a life For you as quick as mother. In all the world, though you in bliss, May soon forget another; There is no one whom you will miss When she is gone, like mother. BRUSH OFF YOUR OWN DOOR-STEPS FIRST. In speaking of a persons faults, Pray don't forget your own; Remember those with homes of glass. Should never throw a stone. If we have nothing else to do, But talk of those who sin; 'Tis better we commence at home, And from that point begin. And though I sometimes hope to be, No worse than some I know; My own shortcomings bid me let Tho faults of others go. Then lot us all, when we begin To slander friend or foe. Think of the harm one word may do, To those we little know. Eemember, curses sometimes, like Little chickens, roost at home; Don't speak of other's faults until You have fully tried you own. FAREWELL, OLD HOME. Farewell, old home, I leave in tears Dear mother, sister, brother; For many are the weary years Ere we shall meet each other. Farewell, old oak, oft have I played Beneath thy gentle wave; Still live and let thy branches shade Dear father's lonely grave. Farewell, old fields, where once, a boy I loved so well to roam; Farewell, sweet flowers, my sister's joy. Still bloom and cheer their home. *^ Gleanings from the Gullies.'' 19. Farewell, my dog, I leave you now, There's sadness in your eye; You can not speak but seem to bow As if to say good-bye. Farewell, old horse, good, faithful friend. No more well till the soil. But may some other hand defend Your weary limbs from toil. Farewell, old grove of giant trees — You wave your farewell too, As bending to the evening breeze You softly sigh, adieu! Farewell, sweetheart, I cherish still Your mem'ry in my heart. But fate's decree and heaven's will Have destined us to part. Farewell to all, God knows 'tis best, He willed it long before. But soon we all shall be at rest Where parting is no more. KISS ME, MOTHER, KISS YOUR DARLING. Kiss me, mother, kiss your darling, Lay my head upon your breast. Fold your loving arms around me I am weary, let me rest. Scenes of life are swiftly fading. Brighter seems the other shore; I am standing by the river. Angels wait to waft me o ti. Chorus — Kiss me, mother, kiss your darling. Breathe a blessing on my brow, For I'll soon be with the angels — Fainter grows my breath e 'en now. Tell the loved one not to murmur; Say I died our flag to save. And that I shall slumber sweetly In the soldier's honored grave. — Cho^ Oh! how dark this world is growing — Hark! I hear the angel band — How I long to join their nuhaber In that fair and happy land! Hear you not that heavenly music Floating near so soft and low? I must leave you — ^farewell mother! Kiss me once before I go. — Cho. THE ORPHAN GIRL. No home no home for a little girl At the door of the prince's hall, She trembling stood on the parlor step' And leaned on the marble wall. Her clothes were thin, her feet were bare>. The snow had covered her head. Give me a home she feebly said, A home and a piece of bread. My father, alas, I never knew — And the tears in her eyes so bright — My mother sleeps in a new-made grave, I'm an orphan girl tonight. The night was dark and the snow fell fast — The rich man shut his door; His proud heart frowned, he scornfully said: No room, no bread for the poor. Kiss me, mother, kiss your darling, Lay my head upon your breast. Fold your loving arms around me, I am weary, let me rest. The rich man sleeps on his velvet couch, And dreams of his silver and gold; The poor little girl on a bed of snow^ She murmurs, so cold, so cold.. 20. ( ( Picked up Here and There." Her clothes were thin, her feet were bare, The snow had covered her feet, Her little torn dress all covered in snow, Yes, covered in snow and sleet. The hours rolled on, and midnight came. It seemed as a funeral bell, For oh! she was wrapped in a winding sheet. And the drifting snow still fell The morning came and the little girl. Still lying at the rich man's door. Her soul had fled to a world above, Where there's room and bread for the poor. DEAR HEART. Dear heart I find we 're growing old, The years so quickly passed away, Since first we met have left their trace Upon both in threads of gray. The rose has faded from our cheek. But never has your heart grown cold Nor do we love each other less, Dear heart, because we're growing old. To me you're fairer than you were. The day I claimed you for my bride. And held you fondly in my arms, ITn conscious of all else beside. The faded cheek and whitened hair. Has yet for me a charm untold, Tliat only strengthens with each year, Dear heart, now we are growing old. Full forty years have passed since then. Years filled with only purest joy — No cloud has ever crossed our path, Our bliss has been without alloy. And when we reach the shining shore, And pearly gates, to us unfold, God grant we both may enter in. Dear heart and never more grow old. I'LL REMEMBER YOU, MY LOVE, IN MY PRAYERS. When the curtains of night are pinned back by the stars. And the beautiful moon leaps the skies. And the dewdrops of heaven are kissing the rose, It is then that my memory flies As if on the wings of some beautiful dove, In haste with the message it bears, To bring you a kiss of affection and say: ''I'll remember you, love, in my pray- ers J J Chorus — Go where you will — on land or at sea — I'll share all your sorrows and cares. And when by my bedside I kneel down to pray I'll lemember you, love, in my prayers. I've loved you too fondly to ever forget The love you have spoken for me. And the kisses of affection still warm on my lips. When you told me how true you would be, I know not if fortune be fickle or friend. Of if time on your memory wears, I know that I love you, wherever you roam. And remember you, love, in my prayers. Chorus. — When heavenly angels are guarding the good. As God has ordained them to do. In answer to prayers I have offered to Him, I know there is one watching you, And may its bright spirit be with you through life, To guide you up heaven's bright stairs, And meet with the one who has loved you so true. And remembered you, love, in her pray- ers. '' Gleanings from- the Gullies. >> 21. THE OLD CABIN HOME. I am going far away far away to leave you now To the Mississippi river I am going, I will take my banjo 'long and I'll sing dis little song; Away down in my old cabin home. Chorus — Here is my old cabin home, Here is my sister and my brother, Here lies my wife, the joy of my life. And my child in the grave with its mother. I am going to leave this land with this our darkey band, To travel all this wide world over, And when I get tired, I will settle down to rest, Away down in my old cabin honae. When old age comes on, and my hair is turning gray, I will hang up de banjo all alone, I'll sit down by the fire, and I'll pass the time away. Away down in my old cabin home. 'Tis dar where I roam, way down on de old farm, Where the darkies are free Oh! merrily sound de banjo for de white folks in de room. Away down in my old cabin home. WHEN YOU AND I WERE YOUNG. I wandered today to the hills, Maggie, To watch the scenes below. The creek and the creaking old mill, Maggie, As we used to long ago. The green grove has gone from the Mil, Maggie, Where first the daisies sprung. The creaking old mill is still, Maggie, Since you and I were young. Chorus — And now we are aged and gray, Maggie, The trials of life nearly done. Let us sing of the old days that are gone, Maggie, When you and I were young. A city so silent and lonely, Maggie, ■ Where the young and the gay and the best, In polished white mansions of stone, Maggie, Have each found a place of rest. They say I am feeble with age, Maggie, My steps are less sprightly than then, My face' is a well-written page, Maggie; But time alone was the pen. They say we are aged and gray, Maggie, As spray by the white breakers flung, But to me you are as f air y* Maggie, When you and I were young. THE FATAL WEDDING. The wedding bells were ringing on A moonlight winter night. The church was decorated, all Within was gay and bright. A mother with her baby came And saw the lights aglow. She thought of how those same bells chimed For her three years ago. I'd like to be admitted, sir. She told the sexton old, Just for the sake of baby to Protect him from the cold. He told her that the wedding there Was for the rich and grand And with the eager watching crowd Outside she'd have to stand. 22. a Picked up Here and There ff Chorus — While the wedding bells were ringing, While the bride and groom were there Marching up the aisle together as The organ pealed an air, Telling tales of fond affection, vowing never more to part — Just another fatal wedding, Just another broken heart. -She begged the sexton once again To let her pass inside cFor baby's sake you may step in, ^ The gray-haired man replied, If any one knows reason why This couple should not wed Speak now or hold your peace forever, Soon the preacher said, I must object, the woman cried With voice so meek and mild. The bridegroom is my husband, sir, And this our little child. What proof have you, the preacher asked; My infant, she cried. She raised her babe, then knelt to pray, The little one had died 'The parents of the bride then took The outcast by the arm, IVe'U care for you through life, they said, You've saved our child from harm. The outcast wife — the bride and parents Quickly drove away. The father died by his own hand Before the break of day. "No wedding feast was spread that night, Two graves were made next day. One for the little baby and In one the father lay. The story has been often told By fireside, warm and bright, Of bride and groom — the outcast, and That fatal wedding night. PUT MY LITTLE SHOES AWAY. Mother, dear, come bathe my forehead, For I'm growing very weak — Mother let one drop of water Fall upon my burning cheek. Tell my loving little schoolmates. That I never more will play. Give them all my toys, but mother Put my little shoes away. Chorus — I am going to leave you, mother. So remember what I say. Oh, do it, won't you? please mother, Put my little shoes away. Santa Claus he gave them to me With a lot of other things. And I think he brought an angel With a pair of golden wings. Mother I will be an angel. By perhaps another day. So you will then, dearest mother. Put my little shoes away. — Chorus. Soon the baby will be large. Then they'll fit his little feet; Oh! he'll look so nice and cunning. As he walks along the street. Now I'm getting tired, mother. Now soon I'll say to all good day, Please remember what I tell you. Put my little shoes away. — Chorus. COME HOME, FATHER. Father, dear father, come home with me now. The clock in the steeple strikes one; You said you were coming right home from the shop. As soon as you day's work was done. Our fire has gone out — our house is all dark — And mother's been watching since tea, With poor brother Benny so sick in her arms, And no one to help her but me. <( Gleanings from the Gullies. »? 23. Chorus — Come home! come home! come home! Please father, dear father, come home, Hear the sweet voice of the child, Which the night winds repeat as they roam! Oh, who could resist this most plaintive of prayers? Please father, dear father, come home! Father, dear father, come home with me now. The clock in the steeple strikes two; The night has grown colder, and Benny is worse — But he has been calling for you. Indeed he is worse — ma says he will die. Perhaps before morning shall dawn; And this is the message she sent me to bring **Come quickly, or he will be gone/' — Chorus. Father, dear father, come home with me i;ow, The clock in the steeple strikes three; The house is so lonely — the hours are so long For poor weeping mother and me. Yes we are alone — poor Benny is dead, And gone with the angels of light; And these were the very last words that he said: I want to kiss papa good-night. Chorus — Come home! come home! come home! Please father, dear father, come home. ILL BE ALL SMILES TONIGHT. I'll deck my brow with roses, the loved ! one may be there. The gem that others gave me, will shine within my hair; And even them that know me, will think my heart is light. Though my heart will break tomorrow, I'll be all smiles tonight. Chorus — I'll be all smiles tonight, love, I'll be all smiles tonight. Though my heart should break tomorrow, I'll be all smiles tonight. And when the room he entered, the bride upon his arm, T stood and gazed upon him as if he were a charm. So once he smiled upon her, so once he smiled on me. They knew not what I suffered, they found no change in me. — Chorus. And when the song commences. Oh! how I will rejoice, I'll sing the song he taught me without one faltering voice. When flatterers come around me, they will think my heart is light Though my heart will break tomorrow, I'll be all smiles tonight. — Chorus. And when the dance is over, and all have gone to rest, I'll think of him, dear mother, the one that I love best, lie once did love, believe me, but has now grown cold and strange. He sought not to deceive me false friends have wrought this change. — Chorus. HOME, SWEET HOME. 'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam. Be it ever so humble there's no place like home; A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there. Chorus — Home, home, sweet, sweet home. Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home. 24. ^^ Picked wp Here and There. »? \. I gaze on the moon, as I trace the drear And her bright-eyed daughters, none can fairer be, Oh! it is the land of love and sweet lib- erty. Down in Carolina grows the lofty pine, And her groves and forests bear the scent- ed vine; Here are peaceful homes too, nestling 'mid the flowers — Oh! there is no land on earth like this fair land of ours. — Chorus. Come to Carolina in the summer time, When her luscious fruits are hanging in their prime. And the maidens singing in the leafy bow- ers — Oh! there is no land on earth like this fair land of ours. — Chorus. All her girls are charming, graceful too, and gay, Happy as the bluebirds in the month of May, And they steal your ear, too, by their magic powers— Oh! there are no girls on earth that can compare with ours. — Chorus. And her sons so true, in ^'warp and woof and * 'grain," First to shed their blood on freedom's battle plain; And the first to hail from sea to mountain bowers, Strangers from all other lands to this fair land of ours. — Chorus. Then for Carolina, brave, and free and strong, Sound the need of praises ''in story and in song," From her fertile vales and lofty grand towers — wild. And feel that my parent now thinks of her child; She looks on that moon from our own cot- tage door. Through woodbines whose fragrance shall cheer me no more. — Chorus. An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain ; Oh! give me my lowly thatched cottage again; The birds singing, that come at my call; Give me them, sweet of mine dearer than all. — Chorus. If I return home overburdened with care, The heart's dearest solace I'm sure to meet there; The bliss I experience whenever I come. Makes no other place seem like that of sweet home. — Chorus. Farewell, peaceful cottage, farewell happy home. Forever I'm doomed a poor exile to roam; This poor aching heart must be laid in the tomb. Ere it cease to regret the endearments of home. — Chorus. HO! FOR CAROLINA. Let no heart in sorrow weep for other days; Let no idle dreamers tell in melting flays Of the merry meetings in the rosy bow- ers; For there is no land on earth like this fair land of ours. Chorus — Ho! for Carolina that's the land for me; In her happy borders roam the brave and For there is no land on earth like this free; fair land of ours. — Chorus. tt Gleanings from the Gullies. f> 25. GRANDFATHER'S CLOCK. My grandfather's clock was too large for the shelf So it stood ninety years on the floor; It was taller by half than the old man himself, Though it weighed not a penny weight more ; It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born, And was always his pleasure and pride: But it stopped short — never to go again, When the old man died. Chorus — Ninety years without isliimbering — tick, tick, tick, tick; His life's seconds numbering — tick, tick, tick, tick; It stopped short — never to go again — When the old man died. In watching its pendulum swinging to and fro. Many hours had he spent when a boy And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know, And to share both his grief and his joy; For it struck twenty-four when he entered the door With a blooming and beautiful bride But it stopped short — never to go again — When the old main died. — Chorus. My grandfather said that those he' could hire, Not a servant so faithful he found, For it wasted no time and had but one desire — At the close of each week to be wound, It was kept in its place — not a frown upon its face, And its hands never hung by its side, ' But it stopped short — never to go again — When the old man died. — Chorus. It rang an alarm in the dead of the night — An alarm that for years had been dumb — And we knew that his spirit was pluming for flight — That his hour for departure had come. Still the clock kept time with a soft and muffled chime, As we silently stood by his side, But it stopped short — never to go again — ■ When the old man died. — Chorus. THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood When fond recollection presents them to view. The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wildwood. And every loved spot which my infancy knew, The wide-spreading pond, the mill that stood by it, The bridge and the rock where the cat- aract fell; The cot of my father, the dairy .house nigh it. An e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well. Chorus — The old oaken bucket, the iron bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket that hung in the well. That moss-covered bucket I hail as a treas- ure, For often at noon when I returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleas- ure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. 26. iC Picked up Here and There,* ^ How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing, And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell; Then soon with the emblem of truth over- flowing, And dripping with coolness it rose from the well. — Chorus. How sweet from the green mossy rim to receive it, As poised on the curb it inclined to my lips; ; Not a full gushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, Though filled with the nearer that Jup- iter sips. And now far removed from the loved sit_ nation. The tear of regret will intrusively swell, As fancy reverts to my father's planta- tion. And sighs for the bucket which hung in the well. — Chorus. A FACTORY RHYME. Now, while I have a leisure time, I'll try to write a factory rhyme. I live in Greensboro, a lively town, And work in a factory, by the name of Crown. Perhaps you'd like to know my name, But you never will — I don't write for fame. But I write to let all classes know, How cotton mill hands have to go. 'Tis not the intent of my heart To write anything that would start Animosity between my employer and me, But what I write let factory people see. That while in factories we remain, We are looked upon as a set insane; The upper tens who swell and fret. Call us the 'ignorant factory set." We were not bred in college walls, Never played in theaters or danced in op- era halls. Nor eat ice cream, nor drank lemonade. Nor smoked cigars, Havana made. Nor went to picnics every other day. Nor went on excursions without pay, Nor wore fine clothes and derby hats. Nor rode bicycles and played with ball and bats. i But now I'll tell you what we do; And factory hands know it's true; We rise up early with the lark And work from dawn till after dark. We have hard times you all well know. To church we hardly get to go; When the Sabbath comes we are tired down From working hard the whole week round. We are looked upon as the lowest grade Of the whole creation God has made. And I'll have you all to ne'er forget. We are called the ^'poor, ignorant factory set." We pay high prices for all we eat — Molasses and coffee, bread meat; , And should we fail our money to get, We are the ' ' lying factory set. ' ' The merchants love to see us at work, But our company on Sunday they will shirk; But when pay-day comes our money to get. Then we are the 'Spaying faet;ory set." (( Gleanings from the Gullies." 27. The darkies call us ''white factory trash." And say we never have a bit of cash; But I'll have all colors ne'er forget We are the ' ' moneyed factory set. ' ' Education we have none, Father nor mother, daughter nor son, And that is why the people fret And call us the ''ignorant factory set." And now you've read this rhyme all through, And know what I have written is true. And I hope all Christians will ne'er forget To pray for set." us, the "ignorant factory But in the end we hope to see These people as happy as they can be. And when the judge on his throne shall sit; We hope he will say, "come in, happy fac- tory set." G. D. STUTTS. THE HOME IN MOTHER'S ABSENCE. A home without a mother, Is hardly home at all, A watch must have a balance wheel. Although the watch be small. I To regulate the household. Better than any other, Though she is not the motive power. The balance wheel is "mother." I The center of domestic love. The radiating center, How bright she shines on those dear ones. Whom God hath kindly sent her. All things must have a head you know, For every school a teacher. A general for the fighting host, And for the church, a preacher. "Order is heaven's first law" tis said. Domestic order, no man Has ever seen, complete and true, On earth, without a woman! "Now, poor bachelor," says one, "What can you know about it," I've been a calm observer, sir, And why should any doubt it! Although I never owned a mill, I've seen its operation; And soon, I know, 'twould go to wreck Without some regulation. A TRAMP'S ELOQUENT LECTURE. A tramp asked for a free drink in a saloon. The request was granted, and when in the act of drinking the proffered bever- age, one of the young men present ex- claimed : "Stop, make us a speech. It is a poor liquor that doesn't unloosen a man's tongue." The tramp hastily swallowed down the drink, and as the rich liquor coursed through his blood he straightened himself and stood before them with a grace and dignity that all his rags and dirt could not obscure. "Gentlemen," he said, "I look tonight at you and myself, and it seems to me I look upon the picture of my lost manhood. This bloated face was once as handsome as yours. This shambling figure once walked as proudly as yours, a man in the world of men. I too, once had a home and friends and position. I had a wife as beautiful as an artist's dream, and I drop- ped the priceless pearl of her honor and respect in the winecup, and Cleopatra.like, saw it dissolve and quaffed it down in the brimming draught. I had children as sweet and lovely as the flowers of spring, and saw them fade and die under the I 28. (( Picked up Here and There. > f blighting curse of a drunken father. I had a home where love lit the flame upon the altar and minstered before it, and I put out the holy fire and darkness and desolation reigned in its stead. I had as- pirations and ambitions that soared as high as the morning star and broke and bursted their beautiful wings, and at last strangled them that I might be tortured with their cries no more. Today I am a husband without a wife, a father without a child, a tramp with no home to call his own, a man in whom every good impulse is dead. And, all swallowed up in the maelstrom of drink.'' The tramp ceased speaking. The glass fell from his nerveless fingers and shiver- ed into a thousand pieces. When the lit- tle group about the bar looked up the tramp was gone. — New Orleans Picayune. THE BEAUTIFUL SNOW. The Omaha Eepublican gives the fol- lowing history of the production which the London Spectator pronounces the fin- est poem ever written in America. In the early part of the war on a stormy night, right in the dead of winter there died at the Commercial Hospital, in Cincinnati, a young woman, over whose head only sum- mers had passed. She had once been pos- sessed of an enviable share of beauty and had been as she herself said, ''flattered and sought for the charms on her face," but alas! she had fallen from woman's high estate. Highly educated and with accomplished manners, she might have shone in the highest society. But the evil hour that procured her ruin was the one from which went out the innocence of childhood; and having spent a young life in disgrace and shame, the po,or and friend- less one died the melancholy death of a broken hearted outcast. Among her per- gonal effects was found in manuscript, ''The Beautiful Snow," which was car- ried to Enos B. Eeed, a gentleman of cul- ture and literary taste, who was at that time of the National Union In the col- umns of that paper on the morning of the day following the girl's death,, the poem appeared in print the first time. When the paper containing the poem came out, the body of the victim had not yet received burial. The attention of Thomas Buchanan Eeed, one of the first American poets, was so taken with the stirring pathos that he immediately followed the corpse to its final resting place. Such are the plain facts concerning he» whose "Beautiful Snow" will long be remembered as one of the brightest gems in American literature. Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow! Filling the sky and the earth below. Over the housetops, over the street. Over the heads of all the people you meet. Dancing, flitting, skipping along; Beautiful snow! it can do nothing wrong, Flying to kiss the fair lady's cheek. Clinging to lips in a frolicksome freak. Beautiful snow from the heavens above, Pure as an angel, gentle as love. Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow! How the flakes gather and light as they go Whirling about in their maddening fun; It plays in its glee with every one. Chasing, laughing, hurrying by. It lights on the face and sparkles the eye, And playing dogs with a bark and a bound Snap at the crystals that eddy around; The town is alive and its health's aglow To welcome the coming of the beautiful snow. How wildly the crowd goes swaying along, Hailing each other with humor and song, How the gay sleds like meteors pass by. Bright for a moment, then lost to the eye; -> I never shall forget the day When we together roamed the dells; I kissed her cheek and named the day That I would marry Kitty Wells. But death came in my cabin door And took from me my joy, my pride, And when I found she was no more I laid my banjo down and cried.^ — Cho. *' Gleanings from the Gullies.'^ 35. I ofttimes wish that I wer« dead And laid beside her in the tomb; The sorrow that bows down my head Is silent in the midnight gloom. The springtime has no charms for me, Tho ' flowers are blooming in the dells, For that bright form I do not see — The form of my sweet Kitty Wells. WAIT TILL THE CLOUDS ROLL BY. Jennie my own true loved ome, I am going far from thee. Out on the bounding billows, Out on the dark blue Sea. How I will miss you my darling, There when the storm is raging high, Jennie my own true loved one; Wait till the clouds roll by. Chorus — Waith till the clouds roll by, Jennie, Wait till the clouds roll by, Jennie, my own true loved one. Wait till the clouds roll by. Jennie, when far from thee love, I am on the Ocean deep, Will you then dream of me love; Will you, your promise keep. — Cho. And will T come to you darling, Take courage dear and never sigh; Gladness will follow sorrow; Wait till the clouds roll by. — Cho. There where this old darkey's heart longs to go. There 's where I labored so hard for old Massa, Lay after day in the fields of yellow corn No place on earth do I love more sin- cerely Than old Virginia, the State where I was born. Carry me back to old Virginia, There's where the cotton and the corn and taters grow, Tiiere's where the biid;: warble svTeo!;ly in the spring time. There 's where this old darkey 's heart longs to go. Carry me back to old Virginia, There let me live till I wither and decay, Long by the old Dismal Swamp have I wandered. There's where this old darkey's life will pass away, Massa and Missus have long gone before me. Soon we'll meet on that bright and gold- en shore, There we'll be happy and free from all sorrow,' There 's where we '11 meet and we '11 part never more. Chorus — CARRY ME BACK TO OLD VIRGINIA. Carry me back to old Virginia, There 's where the cotton and the corn and taters grow, There's where the birds warble sweetly in the springtime, Den carry me back to old Virginia, There's where de cotton and de corn and taters grow, Dar's whar de birds warble sweetly in de- spring time, Dar's wiiar dis darkey's heart am long'd' to go. 36. (( Picked up Here and There." ONLY BEEN DOWN TO THE CLUB. X/ast night I was out rather late, 'Twas only an innocent spree, My wife for my coming did wait, When sleeping I thought she would be. I found her in temper and tears, ^'O," she cried, ''It's a sin and a shame," And she scratched both my eyes and ears, But I told her I soon would explain. Chorus — The club had a meeting tonight, love. Of business we had a great sight, love. Don't think for a moment I'm tight, love, I've only been down to the club. * My boots I left down in the hall, And softly I crept up to the stairs, I kept rather close to the wall, And thought to ascend unawares. But just as I got to the door, I seemed to get lost in the dark, I stumbled and fell on the floor, And just then I could only remark, The club had a meeting, etc. She sobbed, she wept, and she screamed, And said she 'd go back to her ma. While I on the mantle-piece leaned. And tried to enjoy my cigar. I promised to buy her a dress, If she'd let me alone for awhile. Then I gave her a sweet little kiss. And I saw her beginning to smile. The club had a meeting, etc. HOSA OGRADY. Just down around the corner Of the street where I reside There lives the cutest little girl That I have ever spied. Her name is Eosa Ogrady And I don't mind telling you That she 's the sweetest little rose The garden ever grew. Chorus-^ Sweet Eosa Ogrady my dear little rose, She's my steady lady most every one knows, And when we are married how happy we '11 be. For I love sweet Eosa Ogrady and Eosa Ogrady loves me. I never shall forget the day She promised to be mine As we sat telling loves tales in The golden" summer time When on her finger that I placed A small engagement ring While in the trees the little bird Did come there seem to sing. Chorus — Sweet Eosa Ogrady my dear little rose Shes my steady lady most everyone knows, And when we are married how happy we'll be For I love sweet Eosa Ogrady and Eosa Ogrady loves me. I'SE GWINE BACK TO DIXIE. I'sd gwine back to Dixie, no more I'se gwine to wander, My heart's turned back to Dixie, I can't stay here no longer. I miss de old plantation, my home and my relation, My heart's turned back to Dixie, and I must go. Chorus — I'se gwine back to Dixie, I'se gwine back to Dixie; I'se gwine where de orange blossoms grow. For I hear the children calling, I see their sad tears falling", My heart 's turned back to Dixie and I must go. '^Gleanings from the Gullies.' 37. I've hoed in fields of cotton, I've worked upon the river, I used to think if I got off I'd go back there no never, But time has changed de old man, his head is bending low, His heart's turned back to Dixie, and he must go. — Chorus. I'm travelling back to Dixie, my step is slow and feeble, I pray de Lord to help me, and lead me from all evil. And should my strength forsake me, den come kind friends and take me. My heart's turned back to Dixie, and I must go. — Chorus. BOYS KEEP AWAY FROM THE GIRLS. Oh! love is such a very funny thing. And catches the young and old. It's just like a plate of boarding-house hash. And many a nian it has sold. It makes you feel like a fresh water eel. And causes your head to swell; You lose your mind, for love is blind, And it empties your pocket-book as well. Chorus — Boys keep away from the girls, I say. Give them lots of room, Or you'll find when you are wed, They'll bang you on the head With the bald-headed end of a broom. When a man is gone on a pretty little girl, He talks just as gentle as a dove; He spends all his money, and he calls her his honey. For to show her he is solid on his love. When his money is gone, and his clothes in hock, He finds the old saying it is true. That a mole on the arm is worth two on the leg. But what is he going to do. — Chorus. When married folks have lots of cash, Their love is firm and strong. But when they have to feed on hash, Their love don't last so long. With a wife and seventeen half-starved kids, I tell you it 's no fun When the butcher comes around to collect his bill With a dog and a double barrel gun. Young fellows just take my advice Don't be in a hurry to wed. You think you're in clover till the honey- moon is over, And then you'll think you're dead. With a cross-eyed baby on each knee And a wife with a plaster on her nose, You'll find true love don't run so very- smooth When you have to wear second-hand clothes. 2nd Chorus — When your rent is high and your kids be- gin to cry Because there's no grub to chaw. You will holler for your son To load up your gun While you vaccinate your mother-in-law. BURLESQUE ON PROFESSIONAL MEN. Come all je people of every kind, I will sing you a song concerning the times, One and all think they are bright. They cheat their neighbors and say that it is right, And it 's hard times. There is the old farmer, he will plow up his ground, He will put part in cotton and the other in corn. 38. ( ( Picked up Here and There." He will tip up Ms stilliards to make them weigh down, And swear it^s good weight if it lacks ten pounds. And it 's hard times. Here is the old overseer, we must not for. • get, He makes his wages by using his whip, He pushes his hands by night and by day, And when the year is gone they have run away. And its hard times. Here is the old blacksmith, he will and he will blow. He will make you a plow and also a hoe. He says he'll make them for half the amount, And when it is done he'll double the ac- count. And it's hard times. Here is the old doctor, I'd like to forgot, I believe to my soul he is the worst of the lot; He says he will cure you for half you possess. And when you are dead he will take all the rest. And it is hard times. Here is the old tailor, he will cut vou a dress. He will cut you a coat and also a vest, He says he will cut them for five dollars perhaps. And when it is done he will cabbage the scraps. And it's hard times. Here is the old preacher, he will preach for a bowl, He will preach for your money and not for your soul, He rides round his circuit twelve times a year. And if you are lost I'm sure he don't care. And it's hard times. Here is the lawyer, he says he -will bring you out clear. He will get up and speak, tell lies and swear. And if you are hung for eating some honey, I am sure he don't care if he gets his money. And it's hard times. Here are the young men, they would if they could. They want to marry girls, and could if they would. With old red shoes and an old sack coat. And hair on their chins like a Billy goat, And it's hard times. Here are the young girls, they would if they could. They want to marry boys, and would if they could. They will comb back their hair and pow- der their face, And hide their pipes in a secret place. And it's hard times. Here are the old widowers in our neigh- borhood, / They want to marry girls, and would if they could. They will comb back their hair, brush up their shoes. And lay down the canes they commonly use. And it's hard times. TAKE BACK YOUR GOLD. I saw a youth and maiden On a lonely city street. And thought them lovers at their meet- ing place Until, as I drew near, I heard the girl's sad voice entreat. '^Gleanings from the Gullies ' ) 39. The one who heeded not her tear stained face. I only ask you, Jack, to do your duty, that is all, You know you promised that we should be wed. And when he said, you shall not want whatever may befall She spurned the gold he offered her and said — Ohorus — Take back your gold for gold can never buy me, Take back your bride and promise you'll be true, Give me the love, the love that you deny me. Make me your wife, that's all I ask of you. He drew her closer to him and to soothe her then he tried. But she in pride and sorrow turned away. And as he sought to comfort her she wept and softly sighed, You'll see your cruel action, Jack, some day. Now little one, don't cry, he said, for though tonight we part. And though another soon will be my bride, This gold will help me, to forget, but with a breaking heart. She spurned the gold he offered her and said — Take back your !,^oid, for gold can never buy me, Take back your bride and promise you '11 be true, Give me the love, the love that you denv me. Make me your wife, that's all I ask of you. DOWN BY THE BANKS OF THE ROSA. If I ever get married, I'll marry in June, While the fields and meadows are all in their bloom, And I spied my true love by the light of the moon, Down by the banks of the Eosa. 'Her neck and her breast, 'twas almost bare. As white as a lilly to compare. And the dew was falling fast on her curly locks of hair. Like rain a falling in the summer. Says she, ^'My dearest Willie, don't de- tain me long here. For my papa and my mama, they are se- vere. And if they were to banish their only daughter, dear. Where would I go for harbor?" Your papa and your mama, perhaps they would say. That I am a drunkard, or some runaway. And they'd rather their daughter wouldn't live another day Than a rake like I should have her. In country or in town or whereever I am known, I can drink a glass of brandy or let it alone. And as for their pretty daughter they may keep her at home. And I'll go and court some other. Oh! yes you can leave me, I know it very true. But there ' no man on earth I fancy but you. And I never will exchange the old for the new — My love if you will but believe me. 40. i ( Picked up Here and There. }y So come, my dearest one, and go along with me. — Your papa and your mama will soon set you free, And I'll fold you in my arms and so happy we will be, Down by the Banks of the Eosa. TWO LITTLE GIRLS IN BLUE. An old man gazed on a photograph in the locket he'd worn for years. His nephew then asked him the reason why that picture had caused him tears; Come, listen, he said, I will tell you, lad, a story that's strange but true — Your father and I at school one day met two little girls in blue. Eefrain — Two little girls in blue, lad, two little girls in blue; They were sisters, we were brothers, and learned to love the two; And one little girl in blue, lad, who won your father's heart. Became your mother; I married the other, but we have drifted apart. That picture is one of those girls, he said, and to me she was once a wife; I thought her unfaithful, we quarreled, lad, and parted that night for life; My fancy of jealousy wronged a heart, a heart that was good and true. For two better girls never lived than they, those two little girls in blue. Eefrain — Two little girls in blue, lad, two little girls in blue; They were sisters, we were brothers, and learned to love the two; And one little girl in blue, lad, who won your father *s heart. Became your mother; I married the other, but we have drifted apart. AFTEE THE BALL. A little maiden climbed on an old man's knee, Begged for a story, do uncle please; Why are you single? Why live alone? Have you no babies? Have you no home? I had a sweetheart long years ago; Where she is now, pet, you soon shall know. List to the story, I'll tell it all, I believed her faithless after the ball. Chorus — After the ball is over, after the break of morn ; After the dancers leaving, after the stars are gone; Many a heart is aching, if you could read them all; Many the hopes that have vanished, after the ball. Bright lights were flashing in the grand ball room. Softly the music, playing sweet tunes, There came my sweetheart, my love, my own — I wished some water, leave me alone. When I returned, dear, there stood a man Kissing my sweetheart, as lovers can. Down fell the glass, pet, broken, that's all. Just as my heart was after the ball. Long years have passed, child, I've never wed; True to my lost love, though she is dead. She tried to tell me, tried to explain; I would not listen, pleadings were vain, One day a letter came from that man — He was her brother — the letter ran. That's why I'm lonely, no home at all; I broke her heart, pet, after the ball. ^^ Gleanings from the Gullies f> 41. DRIED APPLE PIES. J loathe, abhor, detest, despise, Abominate dried apple pies. I like good bread, I like good meat, Or anything that's good to eat; But of all poor grub beneath the skies The poorest is dried apple pies. The farmer takes his gnarliest fruit 'Tis wormy, bitter, and hard, to boot; They leave the hulls to make us cough, And don't take half the peeling off. Then on a dirty cord 'tis strung. And in a garret window hung; And there it serves a roost for flies, Until it's made up into pies. Tread on my corns and tell me lies. But don't pass me dried apple pies. FIFTY YEARS AGO. I wish to put my thoughts in verse. And briefly, too, will them rehearse; For times and people are changing fast; They are not now as in times past. Forty or fifty years ago the young Were not so glib upon the tongue. For if they wished to grow up wise The older ones would them advise. The boys in those good old days Were not allowed to have their ways, To carry pistols and a whiskey jug. Nor drink lager beer from a large glass mug. Nor go off on an excursion train And not say when they'd return again; But you could see those boys every night Seat_ed by the fireplace bright. Listening to father and mother's advice, And learning how to do work nice Upon the farm and in the shop. And how the cattle and hogs to slop. The girls those days were raised up right; They were not drawn with corsets tight. Didn't wear slouch hats and hamburg lace, And powder smeared all over the face. The girls these days would call them rough, For they didn't dip ashes and Ralph ^s Strong Snuff, They wore their dresses neat and plain And never had an ache or pain. Their hair in ringlets it did hang, Combed nice and neat, but not a bang Was seen to hide their lovely face, But they were raised up with some grace. But what has happened, friends, since then? Ten year old boys now think themselves men. They smoke and drink, themsleves abuse, Wear stove pipe hats and six dollar shoes. They ride bicycles, wear cutaway coats. With false beard on the chin like billy goats; With a celluloid collar and a gold breast- pin, A $20 overcoat from his ankles to his chin. The girls o^ today are changing, too. In all fashions and shapes, banged hair and tight shoes, With rings on their fingers and bobs in their ears, Reading novels and foolishness to banish their fears. FIFTY CENTS. You ought to see the- little girl I took to the fancy ball, ^I'fn around her little waJr-t so neat and very small, I thought two oysters, sure, her appetite would sate, Said she wasn't hungry at all, but this is what she ate: 42. a Picked up Here and There." Dozen of raw, plate of slaw,, fancy Boston roast, Big box stew, some crackers too, a soft shell crab on toast; Next she tried some oysters fried, her appetite was immense, She asked for pie, I thought IM die, for I had but fifty cents. After eating all this she smiled so very sweet. She said she wasn 't hungry a bit, she wished that she could eat; But the very next order that she gave my heart within me sank. She said she wasn't thirsty, but this is what she drank: Brandy and gum, big hot rum, schoon- er of lager beer. Some whiskey skins, couple of gins did quickly disappear. Bottle of ale and soda cocktail, aston- , ished all the gents, She called for more, I feel on the floor for I had but fifty cents. • To finish up this delicate girl cleaned out an ice cream can, And said, ''Now Sam, I'll tell mama yoil're such a nice young man;" Said she'd bring her sister along next time she came, for fun. I handed the man the fifty cents, and this is what he done: Broke my nose, tore my clothes, knocked me out of breath, I took the prize for two black eyes, he kicked me most to death; At every chance he made me dance, and fired me o'er the fence, Take my advice, don't try it twice, when you have but fifty cents. THE FACE ON THE FLOOR. 'Twas a balmy summer evening, and a goodly crowd was there That well nigh filled Joe's bar-room on the corner of the square, And as songs and witty stories came through the open door; A vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor. ''Where did it come from?" some one said; "the wind has blown it in." ''What does it want," another cried, "some whiskey, beer or gin?" "Here, Toby, seek him, if your stomach's equal to the work, I wouldn't touch him with a fork, he's as filthy as a Turk" This badinage the poor wretch took with stoical good grace, In fact, he smiled as if he thought he'd struck the proper place; ' ' Come, boys, I know there 's kindly hearts among so good a crowd; To be in such company would make a deacon proud." "Give me a drink! That's what I want, I'm out of funds, you know. When I had a cash to treat the gang, this hand was never slow"; What? You laugh as if you thought this pocket never held a sou; I once was fixed as well, my boys, as any one of you. "There, thanks, that braced me nicely, God bless you, one and all, Next time T pass this good saloon I'll make another call; Give you a song? No, I can't do that, my singing days are past, My voice is cracked, my throat 's worn out, and my lungs are going fast. ( ( Gleanings from the Gidlies." 43. ^'Bay, give me another whiskey, and 'I '11 '^Why don't you laugh? 'Tis funny that tell you what I'll do — I'll tell you a funny story, and a fact, I promise, too; That I was ever a decent man, not one of you would think, But I was, some four or five years back, say, give us another drink. the vagabond you see Could ever love a woman and expect her love for me; But 'twas so, and for a month or two her smile was freely given; And when her loving lips touched mine, it carried me to heaven. *^Fiil her up, Joe, I want to put some life into my frame — Such little drinks to a bum like me are miserably tame; Five fingers — there, that's the scheme — and corking whiskey, too. Well, boys, here 's luck, and landlord, my best regards to you. ''Boys, did you ever see a girl for whom your soul you 'd give. With a form like Milo Venus, too beauti- ful to live, With eyes that would beat the Kohinoor and a wealth of chestnut hair? If so, 'twas she, for there never was an- other half so fair. "^'You've treated me pretty kindly and I'd like to tell you how I came to be the dirty sot you see before you now; As I told you, once I was a man, with mus- cle, frame and health. And, but for a blunder, ought to have made considerable wealth. ''I was working on a portrait one after- noon in May, Of a fair-haired boy, a friend of mine, who lived across the way. And Madeline admired it, and much to my surprise, Said that she'd like to know the man that had such dreamy eyes. *'I was a painter — not one that daubed bricks and wood. But an artist, and for my age, was rated pretty good; I worked hard at my canvas, and was bid- ding fair to rise; For gradually I saw the star of fame be- fore my eyes. ''I made a picture, perhaps you've seen, 'tis called the Chase of Fame; It brought me fifteen hundred pounds, and added to my name; And then I met a woman — now comes the funny part — With eyes that petrified my brain, and sunk into my heart. "It didn't take long to know him, and before the month had flown. My friend had stole my darling, and I was left alone; And ere a year of misery had passed above my head. The jewel I had treasured so had tarnished and was dead. "That's why I took to drink, boys. Why I never saw you smile, I thought you'd be amused and laughing all the while; Why, what's the matter, friend? There's a tear-drop in your eye. Come, laugh like me, 'tis only babes and women that should cry. 44. i( Picked up Here and There.'' ''Say, boys, if you'll give me another whiskey, I'll be glad, And I'll draw right here, the picture of the face that drove me mad; Give me that piece of chalk with which you mark the baseball score — ' And you shall see the lovely Madeline upon the bar_room floor." Another drink, and with chalk in hand, the vagabond began To sketch a face that well might buy the soul of any man. Then, as he placed another lock upon the shapely head. With a fearful shriek he leaped and fell across the picture — dead. — H. ANTOINE D'AECY. THE WASHERWOMAN'S SONG. In a very humble cot. In a rather quiet spot. In the suds and in the soap Worked a woman full of hope; Working, singing, all alone. In a sort of undertone: '^With a Saviour for a friend. He will keep me to the end." Not in sorrow nor in glee, Working all day long was she. As her children, three or four, P.'ayed around her on the floor; But in monotones the song. She was humming all day long, ''With the Saviour for a friend, He will keep me to the end. ' ' It's a song I do not sing, Tor I scarce believe a thing Of the stories that are told Of the miracles of old; But I know that her belief Is the anodyne of grief And will always be a friend That will keep her to the end. J"u?t a trifle lonesome she, Just as poor as poor could be; But her spirits always rose Like the bubbles in the clothes. And, though widowed and alone. Cheered her with the monotone Of a Saviour and a friend Who would keep her to the end. I have seen her rub and scrub On the washboard in the tub. While the baby sopped in suds, Rolled and tumbled in the duds. Or was paddling in the pools With old scissors stuck in spools, She still humming of her friend Who would keep her to the end. Sometimes, happening along, I had heard the semi-song, And I often used to smile. More in sympathy than guile; But I never said a word In regard to what I heard. As she sang about her friend Who would keep her to the end. Human hopes and human creeds Have their root in human needs; And I would not wish to strip From that washerwoman's lip Any song that she can sing, Any hope that song can bring; For the woman has a friend Who will keep her to the end. i( Gleanings from the Gullies.' 45. A MIRAGE. By An Unknown Writer. Sometimes I dream. I see a waving field beneath a blue sky, ^an orchard, a garden, a nestling cottage — my home. I love a woman, beautiful, clear-eyed, straight-limbed, dauntless. My bride. My mate About are children. The music of their play mingles with the gentle breeze. There are two or three — no, four or five, perhaps six. They look like me; they look like her. They call me father. They do not fear me. They do not obey me. They love me and seek my counsel. I tickle the soil, and it laughs a golden harvest. I plow, I reap, I chop, I make things. I work and get honest pay. My neighbor is honest He is truthful. He is not a parasite. He also works. He also smiles. He does not wheedle his liv- from man, woman or child. I pay no taxes, no tribute to a lying, hypocritical, grafting Government. Men have learned to trust their fellows. I grow old. She grows old. My boys are stronger, wiser, nobler than I My girls are as tender, as true, as beautiful as she. We have achieved success; nature's trust is fulfilled. The chill of the grave is creeping o'er n.p ' The ele-ments of individuality are about to dissemble. I look into her eyes. She is satisfied. ■! am satisfied. The glittering irysteries of the heavens do not perplex :ne. I know not and care not. I am to die. I am not afraid, for I have guessed the riddle of the ages; the secret is mine; my children live. They are I; they 'are she. \ Forward we go in them, climbing poster- ity's ladder of evolution until in the cycle of the centuries she and I may meet, clasp hands with the old magic thrill and then will come memory; and then we will know we have reached the perfect land, the Seventh Heaven, Its geographical name may be Chicago. That whisp of fancy, that phantom of the cloister, will then be reality. I am dying, I care not, for I have lived. My link in nature's chain is welded. No priest supplicates the unknown; 'tis needless. Sinking into the nothing from which I sprang, I leave grim Hades in the scrap heap of existence. I die. I live — many-fold. I mingle with the trees, the flowers, the cloud, the rock,, the ocean. My soul goes marching on. A VOICE FROM THE POORHOUSE. A Temperance Recitation ''My dear friends," said the doctor, ''I favor license for selling of rum. These fanatics tell us with horror Of the mischief liquor has done. I say, as a man and physician, The system's requirements are such, That unless we at times assist nature The bodv and mind suffer much. '' 'Tis a blessing when worn out and weary A moderate drink now and then." From the minister by the pulpit Came an audible murmur: ^'Amen! 'Tis true that many have fallen. Become filthy drunkards and worse — Harmed others. No, I don't uphold them, They made their blessing a curse. 46. '^ Picked up Here and There." "Should we be denied for their sinning? Should the weak ones govern the race? Why, every ^ood thing God has given Is only a curse out of place. 'Tis only excess that destroys us, A little is good now and then." From the white-haired, pious old deacon Came a fervent, loud-spoken. ''Amen!" A murmur rose up from the people. From the midst of that listening throng. They had come from their homes With the purpose to crush out and tram- , pie out wrong. But their time_honored, worthy physician, Grown portly in person and purse. Had shown in the demon of darkness A blessing instead of a curse. And now they were eager, impatient To vote when the moment should come. They thought it their right and duty To license the selling of rum. Then up from a seat in the corner. From the midst of that listening throng Who had come from their homes with a purpose To crush out and trample out wrong, Rose a woman; her thin hands uplifted And from out her frost-covered hair Gazed a face of such agonized whiteness, A face of such utter despair. The vast throng grew hushed in a moment Were silent with^ terror and dread. They gazed on the face of that woman As we gaze on the face of the dead. Then the hush and the silence were broken, A voice so shrill and so clear Rang out through the room: "Look uj)on me. You wonder what chance brought me here. You know me and now you shall hear me. I speak to you lovers of wine; For once I was young, rich and handsome. Home, husband and children were mine. Where are they? I ask you, where are they? False teacher of God's holy word, My husband, my kind, loving husband. Whom my pray&rs and my tears might have stirred. Remembered your teachings, turned from me Me kneeling and pleading with him. 'Twas a God-given blessing, you told him, And only excess was sin. ''And where are my boys? God forgive you, They heeded your counsel, not mine. You, doctor, beloved and respected, Could see no danger in wine For my boys so proud and so manly. How could I hope ever to win When their doctor said 'twas a blessing And only excess was sin. "My husband, so noble and manly; My boys, so proud and so brave, They lie side by side in the churchyard, Each filling a drunkard's grave. I have come from the poorhouse to tell My story, and now it is done. Go on, if you will, in your madness, , And license the selling of rum. Before the great judgment eternal, When the last dread moment has come. They'll stand there to witness against you, My dear ones, the victims of rum. When the shadows of earth are lifted, And lif e 'i- secret thcuo'lits are laid bare, By the throne of the Great Eternal I shall witness against you there." a Gleanings from the Gullies. 47. A WOMAN'S STORY. You see, there are things you can govern, But hearts have a way of their own; Like birds they fly, and you can 't tell why. And you never miss them till gone. And — why, I don't tell the story — If the reason you really must learn, Though my heart took flight with the summer, bright, Yet I won no heart in return. And the loss that I met results in this: That mine is a lonely part; For you can't for you life make a loving wife Of a woman without a heart. Another head rests on the manly breast That I wanted to shelter me; Some other fair face has won my place. So no man's wife I'll be. Somebody's eyes were gentle and kind, His voice was tender and low; But the heart that I wanted was given away Ever so long ago. And so, while I solace my lonely life. With a cat and a cup of tea. Somebody's arm is around his wife. And her baby is on his knee. But compensation's the law of life, And though trials the gods may senci, There's no one to scold when the beef- steak's cold. And no small stockings to mend. So the love that was lost I never regret. When I think what my tri^ils might be, When dinner is late I smile at fate, And nobody storms at me! THE NEW NAME. I know not what the name will be Which Christ my Lord will give to me. When at my journey's end I stand Within the gates of Beulah Land. That name so sweet in heavenly tone My Lord will give to me alone. That name will suit my saved soul — My ransomed name — while ages roll. That name will mean, in Heaven 's speech, The greatest love my soul could reach; And deepest sin, rebellious ways, From these redeemed, I'll sing His praise. That name will mean that service new Which Christ will give to me to do. No other soul my Lord will ask To do my soul's peculiar task. When that blest name my Lord shall speak, With love and joy his face I'll seek. Eedeemed from earthly sin and shame, I'll answer to my heavenly name. Mount Hermon, Mass. F. L. DULEY. MOTHER'S GOOD BYE. Sit down by the side of your mother, my boy, You have only a moment, I know; But you will stay till I give you my part- ing advice, 'Tis all that I have to bestow. You leave us to seek for employment, my boy. But the world you have yet 'to be tried; But in all the temptations and struggles you meet ' May your heart in the Saviour confide. You will find in your satchel a Bible, my boy, ^Tis the book of all others the best; It will teach you to live, it will help you to die. And lead to the gates of the blest. 48. (( Picked up Here and There." I gave you to God in your cradle, my boy, I have taught you the best that I knew; And as long as His mercy permits me to live, I shall never cease praying for you. Hold fast to the right, hold fast to the right, Wlierever your footsteps may roam; Oh, forsake not the way of salvation, my boy, That you learned from your mother at home. Your father is coming to bid you good-bye. Oh, how lonely and sad we shall be; But when far from the scenes of child- hood and youth, You'll think of your father and me. I want you to feel every word I have said, For it came from the depths of my love; And, my boy, if we never behold you on earth. Will you promise to meet us above? —ANON. SHADOWS ON THE WALL. How bright was the happy home circle, That gathered in years that are gone; When the toils of the day were all ended Each night 'round the cherry hearth- stone. And tie glittering waves of the firelight Shone out with a gladness for all, And lit up the faces of loved ones Whose shadows were cast on the wall. Chorus — 'Tis broken, the happy home circle. And Lushed are the voices of mirth. They are gone, all the loved and dear ones. The fire burns low on the hearth. How sweet was the sound of their voices, When all of that once happy throng, United around the old heartstone, To join in the praises of song. And gently the gleam of the firelight. Its radiance shed soft over all, As humbly in prayer they were kneeling. While shadows bent low on the wall. Chorus. But drear is the once cherry fireside. And sad is the heart now alone. While the old-fashioned clock on the man- tel, Ticks out its slow measured drone. And the fluttering, glimmering embers Shine dimly and faint as they fall On the hearth where the loved ones onc& gathered. Whose shadows are missed on the wall. Chorus. THE SALOON BAE. A, bar to heaven, a door to hell; Whoever named it named it well. A bar to manliness and wealth, A door to want and broken health; A bar to honor, pride and fame, A door to want and grief and S'jame; A bar to hope, a. bar to prayer, ^ door to darkness and despair; A bar to honored, useful life, A door to brawling, senseless strife; A bar to all that's true and brave; A door to every drunkard's g>'ave; A bar to joys that home imparts: A door to tears and aching hearts; A bar to heaven, a door to hell. Whoever named it named it well. ^'Gleanings from the Gullies. ?' 49. THE RED GROSS MAN. By Amelia Josephine Burr, Of the Vigilantes. Broken with pain and weariness And sapped with vile disease, Back to the land of ruined towns, Of murdered men and trees. Through Switzerland from Germany The trains of wreckage ran, — And on the French frontier they found A Red Cross Man. And when to what had once been home Those haggard exiles came, Young wheat was green above the scars Of steel and blood and flame Round new built houses where once more The work of life began. And still they found to welcome them A Red Cross Man. There the husband clasped again The wife he mourned as dead — The child was on its mother's breast, The old were comforted. What wonder if they hope to find The Angel of God's Plan Who meets them at the heavenly gate A Red Cross Man! PEACE. Some people believe in fighting, And quarreling all the time; But I think it best to be at peace. And higher up to climb. Because our stay on earth is short. With father, sister, mother; We should live in peace while here. And each one love our brother. There are people in the city, Who need our presence there — To sympathize with them. And with them shed a tear. J. C. STUTTS. STRAY SHOTS. I I had a friend I loaned him 10 I haven't seen My friend since then. n Another one Touched me for 5 I wonder if He's still alive. ni Went on a note To help a third He must be dead I haven't heard. IV I guess it's true That in the end A fellow is V His own best friend. C. E. B. THE LESSON IN MODERN LIFE. We may not climb the heavenly steeps To bring the Lord Christ down; In vain we search the lowest deeps. For him no depths can drown. But warm, sweet, tender, even yet A present Help is he; And faith has still its Olivet, And love its Galilee. The healing of the seamless dress Is by our beds of pain; We touch him in life 's throng and press^ And we are whole again. J: 50. ''Picked up Here and There ' } CHEER UP. By Joseph Sigmund. Have you ever stopped to ponder ^'What fools we mortals be" Who search for !-in and sorrow In a world so full of glee? Have you ever stopped to wonder Why what pleases you the least Would to optimistic natures Prove a veritable feast? And have you ever pondered Why we grieve and pine and fret With the friends of our dear childhod True and loyal to us yet? Look around you and then wonder Why you have congenial work, While so many idly suffer Who no menial job would shirk. Look around you and then ponder Why the Good One up on high Should bless you with more wisdom Than that imbecile close by. Swing around, my dear Complainer, Swing around and face the sun, And for every ounce of sadness You will find a pound of fun. Life is what you make it, Brother. If you nurse complaints, they grow. Sooner cultivate contentment. You will reap just what you sow. IF. If every heart were quickened To feel another's wrong. Then living would be loving And life would be a song. — ^Baltimore American. THINGS THAT ABIDE. In the bitter waves of woe. Beaten and tossed about By the sullen winds that blow From the desolate shores of doubt, When the anchors that faith had cast Are dragging in the gale, I am quietly holding fast To the things that cannot fail, I know that right is right, That it is not good to lie. That love is better that spite, And a neighbor than a spy. ; I know that passion needs The leash of sober mind; I know that generous deeds Some sure reward will find; That the rulers must obey, That the givers shall increase; That Duty lights the way For the beautiful feet of Peace. In the darkest night of the year. When the stars have all gone out. That courage is better than fear. That faith is truer than doubt And fierce though the fiends may fight. And long though the angels hide, I know that Truth and Right HaA^e the universe on their side. And that somewhere beyond the stars Is a love that is better than fate. When the night unlocks her bars, I shall see Him, and I will wait. — Washington Gladden (Exchange). FOUR ESSENTIALS. Four things a man must learn to do If he would keep his record true; To think without confusion clearly j To love his fellow men sincerely; To act from honest motives purely; To trust in God and heaven securely. — HENEY VAN DYKE. (( Gleanings from the Gullies,' 51. If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing their 's and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you. But make allowance for their doubting, too; If you can wait and not be tired of waiting, Or being lied about, don 't deal in lies. Or, being hated, don't give way to hating. And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; If you can dream — and not make dreams your master; If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with triumph and disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your like to broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn- out tools; If you can make one heap of all your win- nings And risk it on one turn of pitch and toss, And lose, and start again at your begin- nings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone. And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the will which says to them: ''Hold on!'' If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue Or walk with kings — nor lose the com- mon touch; If iieither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run. Tours is the earth and everything that's^ in it. And — ^which is more — you'll be a man,, my son! — -RUDTARD KIPLING. AT NIGHT. My paw comes whistlin' home at night And swingin' his tin pail That mother puts his lunches in. And jumps the creakin' rail On our back fence, and shouts: "Hallo! You sure look good to me!" And '' Where's your mother, little son?*' And smiles all twinklunly. Then after tea he says: ''Come on And have our heart-to-heart!" I tell him all about the day. Eight from the very start! And he's as pleased as he can be, As if I wuz a man His own size, talkin' serusly About some 'portant plan! And mother lissens with her eyes. And dries the dishes, too, And paw, he says: ^'Im feeling rich- Because I've got you two!" And then we play most everything. And have the greatest fun. Till paw takes out his watch and says:: "My, how this evening's gone!" I 52. ( c Picked up Here and There ' > And then we get the Bible down, And have our evening prayers, Then paw he lights my little lamp And comes with me upstairs; And then he kisses me good-night, The longest, slowest way, And tells me kind of deep and low: **IVe lived for this all day!" — Amy E. Campbell. WISHING. Do you wish the world were better? Let me tell you what to do — Set a watch upon your actions: Keep them always straight and true, Bid your mind of selfish motives; Let your thoughts be clean and high; You can make a little Eden Of the sphere you occupy. Do you wish the world to be wiser? Well, suppose you make a start By accumulating wisdom In the scrap-book of your heart. Do not waste one page in folly; Live to learn and learn to live; If you want to increase knowledge. You must get ere you can give. Do you wish the world were better? Then remember day by day ■Just to sow the seeds of kindness As you pass along the way. For the pleasure of the many May be ofttimes traced to one. As the hand that plants the acorn Shelters armies from the suu. HOW TO LIVE. Worry less and work more, Eide less and walk more^ Frown less and laugh more, Eat less and chew more. Preach less and practice more. THE WORLDS CREDITOR. There are few rewards remaining For the man who doesn't care And has no wish to be gaining Skill or knowledge he may spare; But the world becomes his debtor Who is keen to find a way To perform his task some better Than he did it yesterday. There are plodders, poor and humble, Who approach their work with dread, And they lag along and grumble At the ones who pass ahead; Then consent to putter sadly While their masters are in sight, And, without delay, they gladly Toss their tools aside at night. There are men who must be driven To the tasks they have to do; Few the joys they shall be given And their profits will be few; But the world becomes his debtor Who is keen to" find a way To perform his task some better Than he did it yesterday. SIMPLE QUESTIONS. I asked my papa why the world Is round instead of square, And why the piggies' tails are curled, And why fish don 't breathe air. And why the moon don 't hit a star, And why the dark is black, And just how many birds there are. And will the wind come back. And why a horse can 't learn to moo, And why a cow can't neigh. And do the fairies live on dew, And what makes hair grow gray, And then my pa got up an ', oh. The bffful words he said! r hadii 't done a thing, but he Jest sen' me off to bed! ^^ Gleanings from the Gullies ff 53. THE BABES IN THE WOODS. A gentleman of good account In Norfolk dwelt of late, Who did in honor far surmount Most men of his estate. Sore sick he was and like to die, No help his life could save; His wife by him as sick did lie. And both, possessed one grave. No love between these two was lost, ^ Each was to other kind; In love they lived, in love they died. And left two babes behind. The one, a line and pretty boy, Not passing three years old. The other, a girl more young than he,. And framed in beauty's mold. The father left his little son, As plainly doth appear, When he to perfect age should eome, Three hundred pounds a jei^. And to his little daughter, Jane, Five hundred pounds iu gold. To be paid down on her marriage-day. Which might not be controlled. These words then did their brother speak To this sick couple there: ''The keeping of your little ones, Sweet sister, do not fear; ''God never prosper me nor mine. Nor aught else that I have. If I do wrong your children dear. When you are in the grave. '^ The parents being dead and gone. The children home he takes. And brings them straight into his house. Where much of them he makes. He had not kept these pretty babes A twelvemonth and a day, When for their wealth he did devise To put them both away. He bargained with two ruffians strong. Which were of furious mood. That they should take these children young And slay them in the wood. He told his wife an artful tale; He would the children send To be brought up in London fair. With one that was his friend. But if the children chance should die Ere they to age should come. Their uncle should possess their wealth, For so the will did run. "Now, brother, '' said the dying man, ''Look to my children dear; Be good unto my boy and girl. No friends else have they here.^' Away then went those pretty babes,, Eejoicing at that tide, Eejoieing with a merry mind. They should on horseback ride. They both did prattle pleasantly As they rode on the way. To those that should their butchers be,. And work their lives' decay. And up bespake their mother, dear, "-O brother kind!" quoth she, "You are the man must bring our babes To wealth or misery. ' ' So that the pretty speech they had Made murder's heart relent, And they that undertook the deed Full sore did now repent. 54. u Picked up Here and There'' Tet one of them, more hard of heart, Did vow to do his charge, Because the wretch that hired him Had paid him very large. The other won't agree thereto, So here they fall to strife. With one another they did fight About the children's life. His barns were fired, his goods consumed, His lands were barren made; His cattle died within the field, And nothing with him stayed. And in the voyage to Portugal Two of his sons did die, And to conclude, himself was brought To want and misery. And he that was of mildest mood, Did slay the other there, Within an unfrequented wood — The babes did quake with fear. He took the children by the hand, Tears standing in their eye. And bade them straightway follow him; And look they did not cry, ^ And two long miles he led them on, While they for food complain; ' ' Stay here, ' ' quoth he, ' ' I '11 bring bread you When I come back again. ji Those pretty babes with hand in hand Went wandering up and down, But never more could see the man Approaching from the town. Thus wandered, those poor innocents Till death did end their grief; In one another's arms they died, As wanting due relief. He pawned and mortgaged all his land Ere seven years came about. And now at length this wicked act Did by this means come out. The fellow that did take in hand These children for to kill. Was for a robbery judged to die — Such was God's blessed will; Who -did confess the very truth As here hath been displayed. The uncle having died in jail. Where he for debt was laid. )-4 .:' ■ You that executors be made, And overseers eke Of children that be fatherless. And infants mild and meek, Take you example by this thing. And yield to each his right. Lest God, with sach like misery. Your wicked minds requite. No burial this pretty pair Of any man receives. Till robin redbreast piously Did cover them with leaves. And now the heavy wrath of God Upon their uncle fell; Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house; His conscience felt in hell! THE BABES IN THE WOODS. Oh, don't you remember, a long time ago. Two poor little babes — their names I don't know — Were stolen away one bright summer day, And lost in the woods, I've heard people say. '' Gleanings from the Gullies. >j 55. And when it was night, oh, sad was the sight I The moon soon went down, and the stars gave no light; They sobbed and they sighed, and they bit- terly cried, Then these i)oor little babes they just lay down and died. And when they were dead, the robin so red. Brought strawberry leaves and over them spread, And sang them a song through all the day long — These poor little babes, who never did wrong. THE EXPRESS TO SLEEP TOWN. I know a little traveler. Who, every single night Starts on a long, long journey. That lasts till broad daylight. Her ticket reads '^Sleeptown Express," Stamped ^'Papa's G-ood-night Kiss" And when she pays him with a hug He says: '^I thank you. Miss. **Jnst take the berth marked 'Dreamy- land'; You mount it by the stairs. Make haste, because the train should start Soon as you've said your prayers. "Remember, too, on this express You tightly close your eyes; And no one reaches Sleepy Town Who talks or laughs or cries. **So when the sandman engineer His engine bell has rung, The passenger from Sleepy Town Must surely hold her tongue. **Be ready, then, to jump aboard; Kiss mother at the gate. It's after half -past seven and The train is due at eight. ' ' THE TRANSGRESSOR. While I sit here by the fire, And play a tune on my guitar, I think of David as I start — A man after God's own heart. How he played his harp so sweet, To all the people he did meet; So we see him after awhile, With a sad countenance and 'no smile. Because he had that good man slain. It grieved his heart and gave him pain; And so you see I'm writing deep, David sowed and had to reap. He prayed to God to forgive his sin, So he could commence again To teach the transgressors the way of peace. That his heart might be at ease. So in conclusion I will say. While we have time let us all pray; And with each other be in love, That we may reach that home above. Where the blessed Saviour has gone before. To prepare us a home on that bright shore, Where we can sing and shout God's praise, And be with him through endless days. J. C. STUTTS. PA'S UNCLE JOE. Written for Rural Home, by Portia Black. stone Gee, I hate to have him go. I just love pa's Uncle Joe. Only guest we ever had Who's not said that I was bad. He's been West for thirty years Digging mines and punching steers. Dad once lived with Uncle Joe, Who said ; ' ' How the years do go ! • 56. {( Picked up Here and There.'' I can see you now again. Bill is just as you were then.'' ''No/' I said, ''I'm not like dad; He was good and I am bad." Never once since that first day Has lie had a word to say Of how good he used to be When he was the size of me. Just then my dad heard a noise That he thought was prowling boys "Went out on the lawn to look. Uncle Joe picked up a book. Pa called to him very soon To come out and view the moon. I went too, but my dad said It was time I went to bed. Only time I ever knew Him to fail to say 'twas true That he never sat up late When he wasn't more than eight. I was glad when morning came, Somewhat worried just the same, For at dinner Uncle Joe, Almost choked to death, I know. I'd upset a cup of tea. Dad lookde very fierce at me. Said no one had ever seen His tablecloth aught but clean. Just as the last word he spok« Uncle Joe began to choke. Must have been the apple pie Gee, I'm glad he didn't die! Oh, we've had some jolly times. Uncle Joe has lots of dimes, And my dad's been awful kind. Never let his uncle find That I do the things I do. I admit that they are true. Dad was awful good, you know. When he lived with Uncle Joe. When I told uncle ''Good-by'^ I said: "I'm going to try To do, when I visit you, Just as my dad used to do." On my head he placed his hand. Said to dad, "Won't that be grand?" Kissed me and said, "Little man, I doubt much if mortal can." Said he: "Look ahead and try To be good so by and by You will be as dad is now. That's worth trying, anyhow." JUST FOR TODAY. By Samuel WHberforce. Lord, for tomorrow and its needs I do not pray; Keep me from any stain of sin Just for today; Let me be kind in word and deed Just for today, Let me be slow to do my will — Prompt to obey. Help me to sacrifice myself Just for today. Let me no wrong nor idle word Unthinking say — Set thou Thy seal upon my lips, Just for today. So for tomorrow and its needs I do not pray, But keep me, guide me, hold me Lord, Just for today. a Gleanings from the Gullies f> 57. WHAT HAVE WE DONE TODAY? "We shall do so much in -the year to come, But what have we done today? We shall give our gold in a princely sum, But what did we give today? We shall lift the heart and dry the tear, We shall plant a hope in the place of fear, We shall speak the words of love and cheer, But what did we speak today? We shall be so kind in the after-a-while, But what have we been today? We shall bring to each lonely life a smile, But what have we brought today? We shall give to truth a grander birth. And to steadfast faith a deeper worth, We shall feed the hungering souls of earth, But whom have we fed today? We shall reap such joys in the by and by, But what have we sown today? We shall build us mansions in the sky, But what have we built today? *Tis sweet in the idle dreams to bask. But here and now do we do our task? Yes, this is the thing our soul must ask: ''What have we done today?'' I *'lt the good were only better, would the wicked be so bad?'' Thus a wise and earnest Christian puts a question, weighty, sad. If the good were only better, 'tis a thought that will not down. For the good to all their goodness still may set a richer crown. If the good were only better, if to actual goodness won They would add the larger total of the good that's left undone; If the good were only better, if to virtue well attained They would give the ampler measure of new virtue daily gained; If the good were only better, if with faults but half subdued, They would wage a stouter warfare boldly every day renewed; If the good were only better, if Christ's people everywhere Were more like their Lord and Saviour, loving, pure and oft in prayer; If the good were only better, jf for grace each hour bestowed Still more grace should be their craving as they tread the heavenly road; If the good were only better, climbing up- ward day by day With the Master's blest approval cheer- ing all the toilsome way; If the good were only better, then the wicked taking note Might be touched with better feeling and their lives to God devote; If the good were only better, better all the world would be. And our Lord the full fruition of his life and death would see. THE FIRST MORTGAGE. Now reader, go along with me, Away back to Eternity; Go back beyond the days of youth. Where everything that was, was truth. Beyond the sorrow and the tears, Beyond the suffering and fears, Beyond the anguish and the gloom, Beyond the shadow of the tomb. 58. <( Picked up Here and There.'' Beyond all trouble and all pain, Beyond all losses and all gain, Beyond all sobs and bitter sighs, Beyond the limit of the skies. Before there was a ray of light, Before there was a day or night, Before a prayer was ever prayed. Before the world was ever made. Before there was a moon, or sun. Before old time itself begun; Before there was a now, or then. Before there was a where, or when. Before there was a 'here,' or 'there' Or anything, or anywhere; Go back a hundred thousand years. And farther still, though filled with fears. Go back until within the past, You fail to find the place at last Where the beginning you can see, At one end of Eternity. Go back until there's not a trace Of anything, but God and space; God all around, below, above; Unlimited in power and love. Away back here removed from sight, Where everything that was was right; Away back here removed from sin. Is where my story does begin. WHAT MATTERS IT? What matters it, if joy or grief Should fall into our portion? If happiness is only brief As fleeting as misfortune? At any rate, the self.sane fate Stands at the verge before us, 'Tis but a little while to wait. His shadow settles o'er us. 'Tis just as well to wear a smile And all life's tempests weather Untroubled, in a little while We'll all be dead together. What matters it? A few days more. The chapter may be ended, Across oblivion's soundless shore Our dreams will be blended However we seek to mend our lot. In spite of our endeavor, We age, we die, and are forgotten, Forever and forever. 'Tis just as well to be content. Nor seeks to break the. leather That binds us. When the years are spent, We'll all be dead together. ^'GOD IS LOVE." William Brickey Our God is a God of wondrous love. Who sits on his jasper throne above; But his loving works on the earth are seen In the verdant fields of living green. And the tiny flowers with mute appeal, That a heart of adamant may feel. And the twittering birds in the wayside grove Tell the traveling pilgrim, ''God is love." Each thunder-peal from the storm-girt cloud. Where the lightnings flash from their dusky shroud. Is the voice of .the mighty God on high. As he speaks in love from the low 'ring sky. That pours its rain on the thirsty soil, That smiles as it brings forth corn and oil In response to the voice from heaven above, And the eart re-echoes, "God is love." Yea, God is love, and his works are true, And his mercies every day are new. For the earth is full of his loving ways, And the heavens o 'erflow with celestial praise. But eternity will be too short To tell all the glories of his court; At his loving word all the planets move. And the universe cries out, "God is love." (< Gleanings from the Gullies.'' 59. WHEN FIRST I HEARD OF HOLINESS. When first I heard of holiness, I tho't it must be right; It seemed to fit the Bible, and be the Christian's light; I heard the people singing and testifying, too; They semed to love their Saviour as Chris- tians ought to do. Chorus — We'll sing, and we'll preach. We'll preach the way of holiness so true; We'll sing and we'll preach Till our blessed loving Saviour's face we view. L went to camp meeting and heard them preach and sing They surely preached the Bible, and made the welcome ring; It made me think of heaven, the Chris- tian's home on high; Where we will live forever, and never, never die, I, little thought of being one, I said I could not stand, To be among that people, they called the ^'holy band;" The world looked down upon them, and said they were so rash; They • often spoke against them, and said they were but trash. But as I went to hear them, and saw the way they did, I saw they had a treasure, from worldly people hid; They seemed to be' so happy, and filled with Christian love, When people talked about them, they only looked above. My heart began to hunger, and thirst and burn within; I wanted full salvation — a freedom from all sin; I went to God for holiness, and called upon His name; He cleansed my heart completely, and filled it with the same. And now I'm one who bears that name, that happy, holy band; I've crossed the river Jordan, I'm in the Canaan land. The atmosphere is pleasant, and fruit of every kind: When you reach heaven's portals, I'll not be far behind. Just as I am. Thine own to be Friend of the young. Who lovest me — To consecrate myself to Thee, O Jesus Christ, I come. In the glad morning of my day, My life to give, my vows to .pay. With no reserve, and no delay — With all my heart, I come. I would live ever in the light, I would work ever for the right, I would serve Thee with all my might — Therefore to Thee I come. Just as I am, young, strong and free. To be the best that I can be. For truth, and righteousness, and Thee, Lord of my life, I come. Not heeding dreams of fame or gold. Success and Joy to make me bold; But dearer still — my faith to hold For my whole life — I come. And for Thy sake not seek renown, At last to take the victor's crown. And at Thy feet to lay it down, O Master, Lord, I come. 60. (( Picked up Here and There.*' WHEN IT GETS DRY IN KANSAS. Ed. Blair, Spring Hil, Kan. -i When it gits dry in Kansas It does the thing up right! The 'vegetation sizzles up; It "s jes ' a perfect sight. The cattle stand and bellow, And some folks do the same; It's mighty hard to tell which crowd's The noisiest at the game. When it gits dry in Kansas The catfish go 'n' hide Away down in the mucky mud, To keep from bein' dried; 'N' thin, white clouds that look jes' like A cut-up cotton batt All frazzled out, go floatin' roun' No bigger than a hat. When it gits dry in Kansas The Chinee bugs multiply, 'N' hoppers fly up in yer face When you go passing by; 'N' dust gits seven inches thick, 'N' hot winds start to blew — When it gits dry in Kansas There's nothing has a show. When it gits dry in Kansas The people mighty soon Begin to talk 'n' worry 'bout The changes in the moon; 'N' grandpa lights his pipe 'n' says. To not git worried yit, *'Fer eighteen months in 'Sixty, It never rained a bit." When it gits dry in Kansas It puts some folks to rout; They sell off ev'rything they have 'N' go a hustlin' out, A saying' they have had enough, 'N' cussin jes' like sin^- But ev'ry dod-blamed one uv 'em Jes' comes right back agin! CONTRASTS. If the world were filled with gladness, And no suffering could be, And if hearts from toil and sadness Forever should be free, Would life be more worth living, Or the days more happy seem; Would we then care more for giving To dark lives a brighter gleam? Would joy for us be brighter Did we know no anxious thought. Would ever rest seem lighter Than after care is brought? If all the birds of summer With song our hearts could cheer. Would the notes of a new-comer Sound as welcome to the ear; Would the morning song it raises To the world from here and there So thrill us with its praises As its music fills the air? And were summer air o 'erlaid With fragrance from each flower, Would we care then for the shade Of some blossom-scented bower? Ji, all the arch of Heaven With heavy clouds were veiled. Or the blue sky were not riven, And no storm-clouds o'er it sailed, Would the floating mists seem whiter — More lovely, or the blue To us appear then brighter • Than to see the cloud-forms too? And if no friend were nearer. But each to all were friends, Would love be any dearer Than the charm which now it lends? No, in all it is the contrast. Each in its given sphere. iC Gleanings from, the Gullies. >* 61. That makes the harmonies which cast Their beauties everywhere. 'Tis the sweet that makes the bitter, And the bitter makes the sweet, iTis in gloom we see the glitter. After night the day we greet. Oft 'mid gladsome hours come sorrows, Into sunshine shadows steal, So throughout the days and morrows Each thing others will reveal. BIG FALLS HYMN. Say, have you heard of the cries and squalls Of the people in and around Big Falls About vaccination? Yes, that's the cry, And the people want to know the reason why That the doctors visit our town. And shut our main dependence down. And give our women such dreadful shocks By vaccinating us for Smallpox. We want to live and let others live, But our money we do not want to give To men who are busy here of late Hunting up people to vaccinate. They come well armed with points and shield Like soldiers going to a battle field. With policeman and experts from Virginia State. And the powers of Burlington to vaccinate. But we beheld them on the Hill, In sight of Juanita Cotton Mill Caucusing what course to pursue To enter our town, and vaccinate us too. Soon a courier we to them sent, To meet this band who were intent "i^o vaccinate us one and all Who live at, in, and around Big Falls. When he told them of the fate. That awaited those who vaccinate The policeman and the doctor too, • Back to the town of Burlington flew- Don't rush upon us people so. And force us to the pesthouse, no. We dont intend to let you in. To vaccinate with point or pin. Smallpox, Smallpox, is all the cry When the doctor sees its measles he kinder shuts his eye. You may call it smallpox, doctor, fool us if you can, • But we hardly believe you know a monkey from a man. Another verse we now must add, , To make youjaugh and feel quite glad. The policeman from Burlington had such a chill His teeth popped together so he couldn't hear the mill. So now we close this Big Fall Ehyme Don't aajhodj think we lost anytime. For we all stood together to share the same fate To die rather than let the doctor vacci_ nate. Faucets may drain a barrel dry But to stick vaccine in us they need not try For the Miller in Burlington has ceased to grind As for grinding and Fauceting a new place must find. The Miller has run his short race through The Page-ant and Faucet have nothing new to do. Patt-ers-on the cheek, but Freeman, let us be But move the Stock (y)ard further out into the sea 62. (( Picked up Here and There. ^ f KN-OWLEDGE. ''If only we could see what lies ahead, If we might look beyond tomorrow's portals, I wonder if we should, absolved from dread, Be happy-visaged and contented mor- tals? Would all the hate and heartaches dis- appear, Would glee blot out all memories of sor- row — If we could see what lies beyond to- « morrow? If we could know what destines the fates Are shaping now for us who blindly blunder; And oft in vain assault forlfidden gates, How would the knowledge profit us, I wonder? Would failure cease to break the hearts of men? Would night's deep silent darkness lose its terror? Would he that ought to dig lay down the pen? Would all who stumble cease to grope in error? We know that right is right, that wrong is wrong. That thus it was ordained at time's beginning; We know that honors to the wise belong. That sorrow is the heavy price of sin- ning. Tet foolishly we sin and venture where the currents, soon or late, will drag us under; If somehow all the future were laid bare. How would beholding profit us, I won- der?'' "Some of these days all the skies will be brighter ; Some of these days all the burdens will be lighter; Hearts will be happier, • souls will be whiter, Some of these day^! ''Some of these days, in the deserts up- springing. Fountains shall flash while the joy-bells are ringing; And the world — with its sweetest of birds — shall go singing Some of these days! Some of these days! Let us bear with our sorrow! Faith in the future-^its light we may bor- row; There will be joy in the golden tomor- row — Some of these days ! " THE FLOWERS WILL COME IN MAY. O sweetheart! don't be sighing. The winter won't be long; Soon merry birdlings crying. Will glad the earth with song, For though it be December, And dark and drear the day, Be cheerful and remember The flowers will come in May. Chorus — The flowers will come in May, Sweet flowers bloom in May, And hearts now sad shall then be glad, When iLe flowers come in May. O sweetheart! so with sorrow— The w'nter of the heart — Some golden, fair , tomorrow, .Will see it all depart. And love's own birds be singing Their carols sweet and gay, With wedding.bells a-ringing. When the flowers come in May, — Cho. S ''Gleanings from the Gullies." 63. THE FEMALE OF THE SPECIES. "Answer to Rudyard Kipling." There has not been a poem so widely- discussed in a long time as Mr. Kipling's ''The Female of the Species" published recently in the Ladies' Home Journal. It has called forth many answers in reply, of which none seems better than the follow- ing: When the earth emerged from chaos, full of beauty and of grace, Man, ordained to be its ruler, God appoint- ed to his place; But the wise and kind Creator, knowing man was incomplete, Formed the purest of all species, woman, for the man's help-meet. When the wily Serpent tempted, and both man and woman fell; When the sword of justice threatened, when they faced an endless hell; Not to man was promise given, seed to bruise the Serpent's head; Through the female of the species came man's hope when hope was dead. Ever down succeeding ages, shown by ■ hist'ry of our world. When the power of sin has triumphed, sor- row's banner's been unfurled. Man has fought and man has butchered; Women's hands men's wounds have dress- ed; For the female of the species with love's tenderness is blessed. When the hate of men is kindled till like fiends with pity dead, Eobbed of natural affections, they o'er earth foul murder spread. Then the Nightingales- and Bartons, filled with tenderness, appear; For the female of the species in man's hour of need is near. 'Twas the female of the species who sore travailed at our birth, 'Twas the female of the species gave the Saviour to our earth. 'Tis the mother, gentle, tender, whom we'll love till dying breath, 'Tis the mother of our species who is faith- ful unto death. — June Guythorne Fiskale. TEMPERANCE ADDITION. One little temperance boy, to his work so true. Pledged another little boy, then there were two. Two little temperance boys, from bad hab- its free. Got another boy to join them; then there were three. Three little temperance boys, never drank or swore, Taught a boy he must not smoke; then there were four. Four little temperance boys, to their work alive. Helped another boy be good; then there^ were five. Five little temperance boys, eyes so very bright. Soon started number six on the road so right. Six little temperance boys, looking up to heaven. Cheered a playmate on the way; then there were seven. Seven little temperance boys, all rum they hate. Told a fellow of the wrong; then there. were eight. 64. ( { Picked up Here mid There. > ) Eight little temperance boys touch not, taste not wine, Asked a schoolmate not to drink; then there were nine. Nine little temperance boys learned the truth, and then Told it to another boy; so there were ten. Ten little temperance boys, working hand in hand, To drive strong drink away from our na_ tive land, I ask you all to help them. Work with all your might; Never fear nor falter; God is with the I right. — ^Ida M. Buxton, in Pansy. IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMER-TIME. There 's a time in each year That we always hold dear. Good old summer-time! With the birds and the trees, And the sweet-scented breeze, Good old summer-time. When your day's work is over, Then you are in clover. And life is one beautiful rhyme, No trouble annoying Each one is enjoying The good old summer-time. Chorus — In the good old summer-time. In the good old summer-time, Strolling through the shady lanes With your baby mine! Tou hold her hand and she holds yours. And tbat's a very good sign That she's your tootsey-wootsey In the good old summer-time. To swim in the pool You'd play '^ hookey" from school, Good old summer-time! You 'd play ' ' ring.a-rosy ' ' / With Jim, Kate and Josie, Good old summer-time. Those days full of pleasure We now fondly treasure, When we never thought it a crime To go stealing cherries, With face brown as berries. Good old summer-time! — Chorus. KOCK OF AGES. ''Eock of Ages, cleft for me — " Thoughtlessly the maiden sung; Fell the words unconsciously From her girlish, guileless tongue; Sung as little children sing . Sung as sing the birds in June: Fell the words as light leaves down On the current of the tune — "Bock of Ages, cleft for me, ■^Let me hide myself in Thee." Felt her soul no need to hide. Sweet the song as song could be, And she had no thought beside; All the world unheedingly Fell from lips untouched by care. Dreaming not that each might be On some other lips a prayer — "Eock of Ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in Thee," "Eock of Ages, cleft for me — " 'Twas a woman sang them now; Sung them slow and wearily — One hand on her aching brow, Eose the song as a storm.tossed bird, Beats with weary wing the air Every note with sorrow stirred. Every syllable a prayer — ''Eock of Ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in Thee:" "Gleanings from the Gullies. 65. *'Eock of Ages, cleft for me — " Lips grown aged sung the hymn Trustingly and tenderly; Voice grown weak and eyes grown dim **Let me hide myself in Thee." Trembling though the voice and low, Ran the sweet strain peacefully, V Like a river in its flow; -Sung as only they can sing Who life's thorny paths have pressed: Sung as only they can sing Who behold the promised rest — ^'Rock of Ages, cleft for me, liCt me hide myself in Thee. ' ' > J *'Rock of Ages, cleft for me- Sung above a cofS.n lid, Underneath all restfully, All life 's joys and sorrow^ shid. Never more, O storm-tossed soul, Never more from wind and tide. Never more from billows ' roll Wilt thou ever need to hide. Could the sightless, sunken eyes. Closed beneath the soft, white hair, Could the mute and stiffened lips Move again in pleading prayer, Still, aye still, the words would be — *'Let me hide myself in Thee." MY SCHOOL. I sat in the school of sorrow; The Master was teaching there. But my eyes were dim with weeping And my heart oppressed with care. Instead of looking upward And seeing his face divine. So full of tender compassion For weary sad hearts like mine. I only thought of the "burden Of tlie cross, tliat iDefore me lay. The clouds tliat hung thick above me Darkenisng tlh;e Hightt otf day. So I could not learn my lesson And say, ''Thy will be done;" And the Master came not near me As the leaden hours went on. At last, in despair, I lifted My streaming eyes above. And I saw the Master was watching With a look of pitying love. To the cross before me he pointed; And I thought I heard him say, ''My child, thou must take thy burden. And learn thy task today. ''Not now may I tell the reason; 'Tis enough for thee to know That I, the Master, am teaching. And appoint thee all thy woe." Then kneeling, the cross I lifted, For one glimpse of that face divine Had given me strength to bear it. And say, "Thy will, not mine." And so I learned my lesson; And through the weary years His helping hand sustained me. And wiped away my tears. And ever the glorious sunlight From the heavenly home streams down. Till the school tasks all are ended And the cross exchanged for the crown. Mr. Deese, if you pleaso, Let Mr. Horn, have some corn, Charge the amount, to my account, And in the fall, I'll pay it all; Yours truly, Henry Dooley. 66. t< Picked up Here and There/' A DRUMMER'S DREAM. ' ''I am not a strong believer in dreams,'* the drummer remarked as he drew his chair up closer to the stove, but I can tell you a little circumstance that happened a few years ago, which has remained a mys_ tery to me to this day. ' ' I have ben traveling for a large whole- sale drug company in St Louis for a num- ber of years, and I have met patrons. On my run in the southwest, I had one very particular old friend whom I will call Brother Benton, because everybody in this section calls him by that name. He nearly always had an order for me, but whether he did or not I always felt better after having made my call, on account of his cheerful ways and pleasant words. T could only see my customers twice a year at best, and I looked forward to my visit to this old customer as one of my best days. ' ' On one visit I sold him a much larger bill than he ever made before, but I did not hesitate to recommend the house to fill the order. I had learned that he was universally loved and respected in his own town as a sincere 'Christian. He would not keep ardent spirits nor would he hear for one minute of giving space in his house for tobacco in any shape. 'My Bible,' said he, condemns both whiskey, and tobacco and T will have nothing to do with them.' No amount of persuading or liberal terms and discounts could induce him to deviate from this rule. ' ' About six months after I had sold him the large bill I was notified by the house that the bill was unpaid, and that I should call as soon as possible and collect it. I hastened over my territory and called in person to see after the matter. I found a new face behind the counter and I learned that a short time after I sold the bill my old friend had taken smallpox and he and his family had been under quarantine for a long time. His sickness had lasted sev- eral months, and he was still confined to his home. I did not see him, but he sent me word that the matter would come out in the end. ' ''To make a long story short, he had -suffered more losses than he thought, and six months went by and still the bill was not paid. I wrote to the house and told them the condition of affairs and thejr were holding proceedings against him. ' ' Six months went by again, and I was ordered to go at once and collect the bill or enter suit. I had but one thing to do, though r confess I had some rebellions thoughts. The night before I arrived at his town I spent several weary hours roll- ing and tossing on my bed, trying to con- trive some plan to avoid closing out my old friend. He lived some eight miles from the railroad, and I should see him on the morrow. I knew that if I brought suit that in all probability others would do the same, and a good man would go to the wall for no fault of his own. "While toss- ing on my bed I must have fallen asleep. I thought that I had called upon my old friend, and we were sitting in his family- room, with all his family about him. He turned to me and said: 'We are just about to have our morning prayers, and we shall be glad to have you join us.' I replied, 'With pleasure.' He announced that he would read the twenty-third Psalm. He began to read, but I was astonished at the words I heard. I had learned that psalm in Sunday school when a boy, and while I had not read my Bible as much as I should have done, still I will never forget that 'the Lord is my shepherd.' "The words were read in a round, clear voice, and my heart rejoiced, though I had heard it that way before. He read: " 'The Lord is my banker; I shall not fail. He maketh me to lie down on gold' (( Gleanings from the Gullies.' ' 67. mines. He giveth me the combination of Lis tills. He restoretti my credit. He showeth me how to avoid lawsuits for his name 's sake. Yea, though I walk in the very shadow of debt, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy silver and thy gold they rescue me. Thou preparest a way for me in the presence of my col- lector. Thou fillest my barrels with oil; my measure runneth over. Surely good- ness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will do business in the name of the Lord.' ^'Having read this Scripture he knelt down and prayed. I thought I had never heard such a prayer in ail my life. He fairly took my breath from me when he asked his Heavenly Father to bless me, his friend. '^With his amen I awoke with a start. I concluded I would call on my old friend early in the morning at his own home. I arose in time to procure a team and was knocking at his door just as the sun was coming over the eastern horizon. He met me at the door with a hearty handshake and said: 'come right in. We are just going to have morning prayers, and .we will be glad to have you join us.' He took m.e into the room and introduced his wife and children. He took up his Bible and said, ' We will read the twenty-third Psalm' He read it in a clear voice, but read it as it is written in the Book. I cannot tell you my felings and thoughts while he read. We then knelt in prayer, and he humbly made known his wishes, but it did not sound like the one I heard in my dream, though he appeared to go over the same thought. He told the Lord that he owed some money, and that it was past due, and he asked that a way might open for him to pay it that very day. He then prayed for me, and while on my knees I resolved that for one time in my life I would disobey orders. ''After prayers we both went direct tcx/ the drug store and as we .entered the door a young man met us and said: ''Brother Benton, father sent me over this morning to tell you that he would take that house and lot you spoke to him about a few days ago. He told me to hand you this money and that he would pay the balance on de- livery of the deed.' "The old man received the roll of bills and tears began to roll down his cheeks as he turned away. He wrote the young maa a receipt for the money and gave it to him. He then turned to his ledger and began to figure. He turned to me and said, 'Will you please receipt this state- ment?" I saw that lie had added all the past interest on the bill. I told him I was ordered by the house to remit the interest. He declined to receive it and said he de- sired to pay all of his just debts. I took the money and sent it in. The house wrote hrm a very complimentary letter, thanking him for the remittance. In a great measure my dream came to pass. "At the time I was tossing on my bed my old friend was on his knees in his closet pleading with his Banker for a loan, I am very much gratified to knoj^ that he got it, and ever since in all my discourage- ments I apply the twenty.third Psalm as the remedv. " — Selected. TIME BRINGS CHANGES. Man wants but little here below, Nol Goldsmith sang long years ago, But Golby living now would find Good cause to change his mind. For were he writing verse today. With Woman Suffrage on the way, He'd change his line, and this bestow: "Man '11 get but little here below." BILLY DOUX. 68. (( Picked up Here and There." AND A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM. Some said she had ceased to love him, Because he was grave and old; And he in his jealous passion Believed the tale they told. Some said they knew she would weary Of being an old man's wife; After gaining the wealth she longed for, At the price of a wasted life. Some said an old-time lover Had whispered in her ear Words that^no faithful woman "Would ever deign to hear. At last his smothered passion Broke out like a swift, fierce flame; And his words were cruelly bitter When his hot reproaches came. She heard him like one dreaming. And then her face grew stern; And her head was lifted proudly And her eyes began to burn. **1 will not listen longer To Tyords like these!" she cried. "Never a woman was truer Since men have lived and died. ''Would God I could lay before you My heart for your eyes to read; You would find me true and faithful In word, and thought, and deed. ' ' But he answered her coldly, sternly, With a bitter pain at heart; **The paths our feet must follow Must henceforth lie apart. •''If you weighed my wealth in the bal- ance Against the hand you sold, Tou have won it, and I give you The curse of coveted gold. "It will curse you as I cannot, For I loved you as my life; Its glitter will always remind you Of the man who called you wife. ''But our child shall stay beside me; And he shall never be told How I bought you in the market For a paltry sum of gold. ' ' Then he turned away and left her; She neither stirred nor wept Till in across the threshold The baby Willie crept. Then the mother.heart within her Broke with a bitter moan; And she fell prone before him Like a figure carved in stone. But it was not death's white stillness Which kept back tears and cry; She must live and learn to suffer; Hearts break, but cannot die. Live, and miss from her bosom The child she loved so much; To dream in the awful midnight She could feel his clinging touch. And hear the sound of his footsteps At the side of her lonely bed; And reach out her hands to find him, To .find but air instead. O pity her, weeping mothers. Who miss your little ones so; Yours out of reach in heaven; Hers out of reach below. There's a step on the shadowy threshold; Death's at the open door; A life is going heavenward To come back nevermore. '^Gleanings from the Gullies.' ' 69. A child in whose hair is tangled The gold of summers three Is drifting out of earth-life Into eternity. He lies on the old man's bosom, And the arms which hold him there Would give the world to keep him;. But the reaper will not spare. ''O my boy!" the old man whispers; And his eyes are wet with tears As he thinks of a lonely hearthstone And lonlier, drearier years. There's another step on the threshold, But 'tis not the step of death; And a cry of joy and sorrow And a sob in every breath. And "My baby!" the woman utters In a tone so deep with love That I think the eyes of angels Grow dim with tears above. And she reaches her arms out empty "With such pleading in her eyes Tliat he lays upon her bosom This flower of paradise. Oh, the rapture that comes over her When she feels her baby's head; And she drops the sweetest kisses On the cheek whose rose has fled. The baby's eyes are lifted To his mot"?ier's face a<;aln; And "marnma" he faintly whispers, And his cheeks are wet with rain. Oh, that face! if I could but paint it With the glory X of its love, The touch of little fingers, The trembling lip above. The old man's eyes are blinded With the tears he cannot hide At sight of the dear child's mother, With her face all glorified. There's another step on the threshold, Death cannot longer wait; For the angels at the sunset Will close the heavenly gate. There in the solemn silence The last long kiss is given; And the angel at the threshold Bears back a flower to heaven. There's a deep and. holy silence 'Eound the little sleeper's rest; But the mother's face is glowing. For he died upon her breast. The old man's voice is broken As he kneels beside the bed And lays his hands, all trembling. On the little shining head. HELPFUL THOUGHTS. While some with talents ten begun. He started out with only one. ''With this," he said," ''I'll do my best, And trust the Lord to do the rest." His trembling hand and tearful eye Gave forth a word of sympathy. When all alone with one distressed. He whispered words that calmed that breast; And little children learned to know. When grieved and troubled, where to go. He loved the birds, the flowers, the trees, And, loving him, his friends loved these.. His homely features lost each trace Of homeliness; and in his face There beamed 'a kind and tender light That made surrounding features bright; When illness came he smiled at fears. And bade his friends to dry their tears. He said "Goodby, " and all confess. He made of life a grand success. — Presbyterian Journal.. 70. C( Picked up Here and There.'' THE CHURCH. Hark! the church proclaims her honor, And her strength is only this: God hath laid His choice upon her, And the work she doth is His. He His church Tiath firmly founded, He will guard what He began; We by sin and foes surrounded, Build her bulwarks as we can. Frail and fleeting are our powers, Short our days, our foresight dim. And we own the choice not ours, We were chosen first by Him. Onward, then! for nought despairing, Calm we follow at His Word, Thus through joy and sorrow bearing Faithful witness to our Lord. Though we here must strive with weak. ness, Though in tears we often bend, What His might began in meekness, Shall achieve a glorious end. — Selected. JOHN T. PULLEN. " By Ethel Carroll Squires. (A loving tribute on behalf of all Mere- dith students, and especially the Club Girls, whose friend he ever was in word and deed.) John Pullen dead Not so, not so! John Pullen lives forevermore, Immortal; bounded by no shore, What death could lay his spirit lowf He and his Master — still they roam Through street and byway, soft to call Wherever sin and sorrow fall Their ever-loving: Child, come home! John Pullen could not die — Ah no! For radiant there shone in him The light that shadows never dim. Eternal Light, forever glow Upon these darkened ways of ours Where tear-drops fall to miss a hand Now angel-clasped in yonder land All fragrant with celestial flowers. O long before he to the gate Had come, they spied him from afar And held the portals wide ajar. See just within more angels wait To bring him like a conqueror come His crown to wear! And from the throne His Father's voice, so often known On earth, cries softly: Welcome home! His mother comes — through all the place A silence falls — those he has won Come forth to sing: Thy toil is done, Have what thou wilt. Upon his face ; O send me back to paths of sin — When once my long-time fettered tongue Has sung the praise on earth begun — To bring more weary wanderers in! TWENTY YEARS AGO. I've wandered to the village Tom, I've sat beneath the tree. Upon the schoolhouse playgiound, which sheltered you and me; But n6ne were left to greet me, Tom and few were left to know, That played with us upon the green, some twenty years ago. The grass is just as green, Tom; barefoot- ed boys at play Were sporting just as we did then, with spirits just as gay; But the master sleeps upon the hill, which, coated o'er with snow. Afforded us a sliding place, just twenty years ago. i ( Gleanings from the Gullies/' 71. The boys were playing some old game, be- neath that same old tree; I have forgot the name just now — you've played the same with me On that same spot; 'twas played with knives by throwing — so and so; The leader had a task to do — there, twenty years ago. "The river's running just as still; the wil- lows on its side Are larger than they were, Tom; the 1 stream appears less wide — ■But the grapevine swing is ruined now, where once we played the beau, -And swung our sweethearts — pretty girls — just twenty years ago. The spring that bubbled 'neath the hill, close by the spreading beech, Is very low — 'twas once so high, that we could almost reach; And, kneeling down to get a drink, dear Tom, I started so. To see how sadly I am changed, since twenty years ago. Near by the spring, upon an elm, you know I cut your name. Your sweetheart's just beneath it, Tom, and you did mine the same; "Some heartless wretch has peeled the bark — 'twas dying, sure but slow. Just as that one, whose name you cut, died twenty years ago. My lids have long been dry, Tom, but tears came in my eyes; 1 thought of her I loved so well, those early broken ties; I visited the old churchyard, and took some flowers to strow Upon the graves of those we loved, some twenty years ago. Some are in the churchyard laid — some sleep beneath the sea; But few are left of our old class, except- ing you and me; And when our time shall come, Tom, and we are called to go, I hope they'll lay us where we played, just twenty years ago. JUST SET A LIGHT. A little child on a sick-bed lay. And to death seemed very ne^„r. Her parents' pride, and the only child Of a railroad engi-ieer. His duty called him from those he loved, From his home whose light was dimmed; While tears he shed, to his wife he said, ^'I will leave two lanterns trimmed." Chorus — '^Just set a light when I pass tonight, Set it where it can be seen; If our darling's dead, then show the red, If she's better, show the green!" In that small house by the railroad side, 'Twas the mother's watchful eye Saw a gleam of hope in the feeble smile, As the train went rushing by. Just one short look, 'twas his only chance, But the signal-light was seen; On the midnight air there arose a prayer, ''Thank God! the light is green." OMISSIONS. It isn't the thing you do, deaf. It 's the thing you leave undone That gives you a bit of a heartache At the setting of the sun. The tender word forgotten; The letter you did not write; The flower you did not send, dear. Are your haunting ghosts at night. 72. (( Picked up Here and There.'' The stone you might have lifted Out of a brother's way; A bit of heartsome counsel You were hurried too much to say; The loving touch of the hand, dear, The gentle, winning tone Which you had no time nor thought for With troubles enough of your own. These little acts of kindness So easily out of mind. Those chances to be angels Which we poor mortals find — They come in night and silence, Each sad, reproachful wraith. When hope is faint and flagging And a chill has fallen on faith. — Selected. FELLOWSHIP. When a man ain't got a cent, An' he's feeling kind of blue. An' the clouds hang dark and heavy, An ' work won 't let the sunshine through. It's a great thing, O my brethren. For a fellow just to lay His hand upon your shoulder In a friendly sort of way. It makes a man feel queerish; It makes the teardrop start, An' you sort of feel a flutter In the region of your heart; You can't look up and meet his eyes, You don't know what to say. When his hand is on your shoulder In a friendly sort of yfaj. Qh, the world's a curious compound. With its honey and its gall. With its cares and bitter crosses; But a good world after all. An ' a good God must have made — Leastwise, that is what I say When a hand is on your shoulder In a friendly sort of way. — James Whitcomb Eiley. THE TELEPHONE GIRL. The telephone girl sits still in her chair And listens to voices from everywhere. She knows all the gossip, she knows all the news. She knows who is happy and who has the blues; She knows all our sorrows, she knows all our joys. She knows all the girls who are '^ chasing the boys." She knows all our troubles, she knows of our strife, She knows every man who talks mean to his wife; She knows every time we are out with the boys, She knows the excuses that each felloTT employs. If the telephone girl told half that she knows, It would turn our friends into bitterest foes; She would sow a small wind that would soon be a gale. Ingulf us in trouble and land us in jail. SJie would start forth a story which, gain, ing in force. Would cause half our wives to sue for di- vorce, * She would get all our churches mixed up in a fight, And turn our bright days into sorrowing- night; In fact, she could keep the whole town in a stew, If she told- but one-tanlh of the things that she knew. Say, kid, but doesn^t it mako your head whirl When you think what you owe to the telephone girl I — From Judge. ^^ Gleanings from the Gullies. ff 73. JTJST DROP A LINE TO MOTHER. By Dan Nicholas Steidle, Jr. Just drop a line to mother, boy; remember she's your friend; You know she's getting old and gray and hastening toward the end. A word from you will cheer her up and make her old heart glad; She'd know you've not forgotten her — drop her a line my lad. When you were but a little child she'd stroke your curly head And tell you how she loved you; don't for- get the words she said. ' She'd put her arms around your neck whenever you felt sad; She'd always kiss your tears away. — drop her a line, my lad. You took your sorrows all to her, she'd smooth the troubled brow; She always chased the clouds away — would you forget her now? She's praying for you every day, no word from you she's had; A message now would make her smile — drop her a line, my lad. Perhaps she thinks yon are lost and gone; that she is all alone; Brighten her up with a little note as re- ward for what she's done; 'Twould lengthen her years to see your face, she'd remember her little tad; But this is the least that you can do — drop her a line, my lad. You'll only have one mother, boy — no one her place can take; 'Twill be too late when she is gone; write — just for her sweet sake! She'll take you to her warm heart still if you've gone to the bad; Don't be ashamed to call her name — drop her a line, my lad. MOTHER'S WAY. Oft within our little cottage, As the shadows gently fall. While the sunlight touches softly One sweet face upon the wall, Do we gather close together, And in hushed and tender tone Ask each other's full forgiveness For the wrongs that each have done. Should you wonder why this custom At the closing of the day, Eye and voice would quickly answer: "It was once our mother's way." If our home be bright and cheery, If it hold- a welcome true. Opening wide its door of greetin-g To the many — not the few; If we share our Father's bounty With the needy, day by- day, 'Tis because our hearts remember This was ever mother's way. Sometimes when our hearts grow weary, Or our task seems very long. When our burdens look too heavy And we deem the right all wrong. Then we gain a new, fresh courage, As we rise to proudly say: "Let us do our duty bravely; / This was* our dear mother's way." Thus we keep her memory precious. While we never cease to pray That at last, when lengthening shadows, Mark the evening of life's day, They may find us waiting calmly To go home our mother's way. SURE. In this busy old world Of hustle and pelf. If you want to get yours Go and grab it yourself. 74. a Picked up Here and There. ^^ REMEMBRANCE. I remember, I remember, in the house where I was born, How father made us all get up at daylight every morn; The slice of cold and greasy pork upon my breakfast plate, The muddy coffee that I drank, the soggy bread I ate. I remember, I remember, how I trudged a mile to school. And was rapped across the knuckles if I broke the slightest rule; The birch above the teacher's desk, the lightning in his eye; The way he used to keep me in till stars were in the sky. I remember, I remember, how in winters long ago, I woke to find my attic bed half covered up with snow, And how the home-made socks of blue that patiently I wore Were knitted &om the kind of stuff in Nessus' shirt of yore. I remember, I remember, how we sat by candlelight And vainly tried to see to do our lessons overnight, And how before the glowing hearth from time to time we turned, Because, alas! our backs would freeze the while our faces burned I remember, I remember, how our holidays were few, And father always found some chores we had to stay an(^ do; In hoeing corn and sawing wood we got our exercise, And dad's old trousers for us boys were made a smaller size. I remember, I remember, how the seasons came and went, And we helped to reap the harvests, but we never got a cent. I like to recollect it all and talk of it, I vow. But thank the Lord with all my heart, those times are over no-w*. MAKE OTHERS HAPPY. When rain beats down and all is drear, As often is the way. With happy smile I will recall What Grandma used to say: ''Why bless your heart,' it doesn't help To let. the tears drip too; Just wipe your eyes and look around, For some good deed to do." With glee three letters she'd repeat Just M. O. H. were they; Yet what their meaning we knew not, For did we ask, she 'd say ; ''Why that's my. motto and I've learned, The very wisest plan Is to find out what others need. And help them if you can!" With each success, as we would seek Some helpful art to do, We found that cheering other lives Brightened our own lives too. I told her this one day, and plead: "M. O. H. please make clear." Then smiling sweetly, she replied: "Make Others Happy, dear!" "When stormy days give you the blues. Just help to set things right; Kind acts will find the darkest day With sweetness and with light. Look up the real unfortunates, And ease their aches and pains, As you make others happy, dear, You just forget it rains." — Selected. ^'Gleanings from the Gullies.'' 75. FOR LOVE'S SAKE. Sometimes I am tempted to murmur That life is flitting away, "With only a round of trifles Filling each busy day; Dusting nook and corners, Making the house look fair, And patiently taking on me The burden of women's care. Comforting childish sorrow. And charming the childish heart With the simple song and story Told with a mother's art; Seting the dear home table And clearing the meal away, And going on little errands In the twilight of the day. One day is just like another! Sewing and piecing well Little jackets and trousers, So neatly that none can tell Where are the seams and joinings Ah! the seamy side of life Is kept out of sight by the magic Of many a mother and wife! And oft when ready to murmur That life is flitting away, With the self -same around of duties Filling each busy day, It comes to my spirit sweetly With the grace of a thought divine; ^'You are living, toiling, for love's sake, And the loving should never repine. *'You are guiding the little footsteps In the way they ought to walk; You are dropping a word for Jesus In the midst of your household talk; Living your life for love 's sake Till the homely cares grow sweet, And sacred the self-denial That is laid at the Master 's feet. — Margaret E. Sangster. MARY AND WILLIE. As Mary and Willie sat by the seashore Their last farewell to take, Said Mary to Willie, ''You're now going to sea, I fear that my fond heart will break.'" "'Oh, don't be despairing," young Willie then said, And pressed his fair maid to his ^ide; '^My absence don't mourn, for when 1 return I'll make little Mary my bride." Three years having passed without any ♦ news. As Mary stands by her own door. An old beggar came by with a patch on his eye. And did for her pity implore. ''Fair lady," cried he, "your charity be- stow, And I'll tell your fortune beside; The lad whom you mourn will never re- turn To make little Mary his bride." ''Oh, if it be true you tell unto me, My Willie, my hero still lives! Oh, if it be true, straightway unto you All the money I have I will give." "He is living," quoth he, "all in poverty; He haSibeen shipwrecked beside; He '11 return no more because he is poor. To make little Mary his bride." "May the heavens above know the joy that I feel, And for his misfortune I'll mourn; He's welcome to me all in poverty, With his blue jacket tattered and torn." The beggar threw by the patch from his eye. Likewise the crutch from his side; Blue jacket and trousers, and cheeks like a rose, Young Willie stood by Mary's side. 76. Picked up Here and There.'' ** Forgive me, fair lady! forgive me," he cried. "It was only your love that I tried; To the church we'll away before close of day, To make little Mary my bride. IVe money in plenty and riches untold, I never was shipwrecked beside; In coaches we'll roll all covered with gold, When I make little Mary my bride ! ' ' Eepeat last two lines of each stanza for the refrain. A PRAYER. Heavenly Father, day by day. Lead me in Thine own sweet way; Teach me to be pure and true, Show me what I ought to do. When in danger, make me brave, Make me know that Thou canst save. Keep me ever by Thy side, Let me in Thy love abide. When I'm tempted to do wrong Make me steadfast, wise and strong. And when all alone I stand Shield me with Thy mighty hand. When my heart is full of glee Help me to remember Thee; Happy most of all to know That my Father loves me so. When my work seems hard and dry May I press on cheerily; Help me patiently to bear Pains and hardships, toil and care. May I do the good I know, Be Thy loving child below, And at last go home to Thee, Evermore Thy child to be. — Author Unknown. THE WISE ONE. (From the New York World.) There was a man in our town, And he was wondrous wise; He didn't do the strenuous life jSTor go the pace of flies. He didn't hit an auto up Until he caused a wreck From which they later picked him out ¥7ith broken bones or neck. He didn't seek the upper air In ships that fly around Until they drop a cog and drop Their contents to the ground. He didn't drive a rapid horse That loved to burn the road Until it ran away like man And smashed its wagon-load. He didn't buck the Wall street bunch As either bull or bear Until he 'd finished up with it And left his wad down there. He didn't blow his millions on The great white way by night, Nor mix up in the social whirl That swipes the cash all right. He didn 't even try to skip With Brown 's or Jones ' wife ; But bravely sought in every way To live the simple life. And so he lived — until one day, Just how did not appear, A street car caught him on the track And ended his career. Beneath the sod the wise one rests; We wipe our weeping eyes j^nd wonder, in a town like ours. Why should a man be wise? (( Gleaniyigs from the Gullies. ' > 11. MAN AND HIS SHOES. How much a man is like his shoes! For instance, both a sole may lose; Both have been tanned; both are made tight Bj cobblers; both get left and right, Both ^ need a mate to be complete. And both are made to go on feet. They both need heeling, oft are sold. And both in time will turn to mold. With shoes the last is first; with men The first shall be the last; when The shoes wear out they're mended new. When men wear out they're men dead, too! They both are trod upon, and both Will tread on others nothing loath; Both have their ties, and both incline, When polished, in the world to shine; And both peg out Now, would you choose To be a man or be his shoes? THE FOOL'S PSAYER. The royal feast was done; the king Sought some new sport to banish care, And to his jester called; "Sir Fool, Kneel down and make for us a prayer. ' ' The jester doffed his cap and bells. And stood the mocking court before; They could not see the bitter smile Behind the painted grin he wore. He bowed his head and bent his knee. Upon the monarch's silken stool. His pleading voice arose: '^O Lord, Be merciful to me, a fool! ^'l you suppose a beautiful woman would loaf all day long in one place if there wasn't a man somewhere near to admire herj" " 'I'm sure it's a ueautiful won-au, * in- sisted the young crow. 'And there, too, is ft man's figure behind tli3 oak. I'm going over to size her up. ' "And the young crow flew off, and a guB banged, and a few minutes later he cam© limping back with a broken wing and a hole in his leg, " 'Aha,' sneered the old crow, 'you youngsters are all alike — think you know more about women than your elders!' " 96. << Picked up Here and There.' ^ THE LAST WORD. A litle giil traveling in a sleeping car with her parents greatly objected to being put in an upper berth, says the Kansas City Star. She was assured that papa, mamma and God would watch over her. She was settled in the berth at last and the passengers were quiet for the night when a small voice piped: ''Mamma." ''Yes, dear." ".You there?" "Yes, I'm here. Now go tc sleep." "Papa, you there!" "Yes, I'm here. Go to sleep like a good girl. ' ' This continued at intervals for some time, until a fellow passenger lost patience aiul called: "We're all here. Your father and mother and brothers and sisters, and uncles and aunts and first cousins. All here. Now go to sleep!" There was a brief pause after this ex- plosion. Then the tiny voice piped up again, but very softly ; 'Mamma!" ' ' Well. ' ' "Was that God?" JUST SMILE. By V. M. Hatfield. Smile when you're all alone; smile in a crowd. Smile awhile softly, then out loud. Smile from your brow to the point of your chin; Smile on the outside, and then smile in. Smile when the sun shines; smile when it rains. Smile in the meadows; smile through the lanes. Let other people grumble and revile; Just keep feeling good and keep that smile. Smile, when you've roast beef; smile when it's hash. Smile when your business is going tp smash. Smile when you can't have things your way. Smile when you're singing and smile while you pray. Smile when you have no work to do. Smile when you have so much you can't get through, Maybe your best coat's way out of style — Go in shirt sleeves but wear that smile. Smile by a fixed rule; smile off-hand, Smile when you can't even understand. Smile like a hen determined to set. Smile like a race horse winning a bet. Every time dyspepsia makes an attack Smile like a jester and drive it back. Beats all the doctors' seventeen mile. Quit taking a physic and take a smile. Smile life-size if you 're a married man. If you're a bachelor smile if you can. Smile at a funeral — don't disgrace Even a dead man by making a face. Maybe that scowl has grown on tight, Dislocate your features and set them right. Smooth out the wrinkles, get rid of your bile ; Everybody loves you when you smile. INDEX Annabel Lee 6 A Little Pilgrim 7.9 A Eailroad Man 's Prayer 13-14 A Tramp 's Eloquent Lecture 27-28 After the Ball 40 A Mirage 45 A Voice from the Poorhouse 45-46 A Woman 's Story 47 At Night 51-52 A Drummer 's Dream 66-67 A Little Child Shall Lead Them 68-69 A Prayer 76-77 According to Precedent 78 A Eecitation 81 Answer These Four Questions 93 Beautiful Hands 9 Brush Off Your Own Doorsteps 18 Beautiful Snow 28-29 Blind Girl 's Death, The 30 Burlington Chips 32 Bald Headed Man, The 33-34 Boys Keep Away from the Girls 37 Burlesque on Professional Men . : 37-38 Babes in the Woods, The 53-55 Big Falls Hymn 61 Booze ' 79 Beloved 92 Christ 's Lilies 9 Come Home, Father 22-23 Carry Me Back to Old Virginia 35 Cheer Up 50 Contrasts 60 Clear Sky Lines 89 Drunkard's Soliloquy, The 10 Dear Heart . 20 Down by the Banks of the Eosa 39-40 Dried Apple Pies 41 Down by the Old Mill Stream So Dreaming 87 Express to Sleep Town, The 55 Extended Credit 80 Experience Teaches , ... 95 Farewell Old Home IS-l:') Fatal Wedding, The • • l1-22 Factory Ehyme, A 26-27 Fifty Years Ago 41 Fifty Cents ] 41-42 Face on the Floor, The , -12-44 Four Essentials 50 I'irst Mortgage, The . 57-58 Flowers Will Come in May, The 62 I'ellowship , 72 i'or Love 's Sake 75 Fined Pifty Dollars . 91-92 Great Lake Eailroad 14 Grandfather 's Clock 25 Good Old Summer Time 64 God Is Love 58 Hoodoo Coin, A 10 Home, Sweet Home 23-24 Ho, For Carolina 24 Home in Mother 's Absence 27 How to Live ( . . . 52 Helpful Thoughts 69 Hobble Skirt, The - 79 Hail Columbia 90-91 In the Baggage Coach Ahead 6-7 I '11 Eemember You, My Love, in My Prayers 20 I'll Be All Smiles Tonight 23 I 'se 'Gwine Back to Dixie 36 If 51 Just as the Sun Went Down 11 Just for Today 56 Just Set a Light 71 Just Drop a Line to Mother 73 John T. Pullen 70 Just Smile 96 Kiss Me Mother, etc 17-18 Kitty Wells 34-35 Knowledge . . 62 'Lesson in Mo...... 86 On the Banks of the Wabash ,.,...... 13 Original Dixie •..-..... 1-5 Old Cottage Home — 15-16 Orphan Oirl, The -. 19-20 Old Cabin Home 21 Old Oaken Bucket , 25-26 Only Been Down to the Club 36 Omissions 71-72 Operatives of Proximity^ Eevolution, etc 94-95 Put Your Trust in Him 86 Plea for Factory People 12-13 Put My Little Shoes Away 22 Peace .' , 49 Pa 's Uncle Joe 55-56 Eock of Ages . , 64-65 Eemembrance 74 Eosa O 'Grady , 36 St. Peter at the Gatt. , 16-17 Sweet Marie 31-42 Shadows on the Wall ^ 48 Stray Shots 49 Simple Questions . 52 Sand Man, The . 78 Sometime, Somewhere 80 Truth 14 The Tramp 29-30 Tliat Car ., 32: Take Back Your Gold ^ 38-39 Two Little Girls in Blue 40 The New Name 47 The Saloon Bar ^ 48 The Eed Cross Man 49^ Things That Abide . . . , 50* The World 's Creditor ^.. . 52' The Transgressor .,.,.. 55 'The Female of the Species 63' Temperahee Addition 63-64 Time Brings Chang^es , , , •. . ., . 67' The Church / 70' Twenty Years Ago , . 70-71 The Telephone Girl ^ 72* The Wise One , , . . 76 The Fool 's Prayer , 77 The Volunteer Organist 79 The Wise Choice .. . . , 85 Things You Should Know 82-84 The Fresh Air , 87 Th« Legacy of Peace 92" The Two Sinners ^. ^ 94 The^' Say 95 The Last Word , 9^ A^illage Blacksmith, The , 11-12 What a Boy Could Do 11 Where Is My Boy Tonight 1 II When You and I Were Young ,.,.,, 21 What Caused the Hard Times? , 32-33 A¥ait 'Till the Clouds Roll By 35 Washerwoman ^s Song, The . , 44 W^ishing , . , , , . . 52 What Have We Bone Todayf 57 What Matters Itl 58 When First I Heard of Holiness 59 When It Gets Dry in Kansas 60 What 's Coming to You? 78 When I Get Time 81 Who Started Itf 84 Wanted— A Minister 's Wife . 88-89 What Is the Matter With the Church 93 You '11 Miss Your Mother When She 's Gone 80 I ^%m^!mim?mm^¥P&&j-^'\f-^r- , '...,