Part 4
Words may be soft as evening air Or fierce as sultry noonday's glare, But soft or fierce, be sure they rest A curse or blessing in some one's breast.
How deep soever their meaning may lie, Not every soul will pass them by! No anger, nor passion, nor malice so great But a match 'twill meet in a world of hate.
No love so deep, no word so kind But lodges at last in a kindred mind, No thought so vast, nor high nor low But a parallel meets in a world of woe.
A heedless word a heart may break, A thoughtful one a fortune make; One, hurl a soul in endless night; Another, lead to heaven's delight.
One word may nerve a murderer's arm, Another still a raging storm-- One, sow the seeds of endless strife; Another, sanctify a life.
Our words outline the feeble tongue From which their outward being sprung, Or, written on the stainless page, They live to bless or curse an age.
How careful, then, ought we to be Before we let such engines free! Once free, no power can call them back, Nor human genius trace their track.
We loose them 'mid the wide expanse 'Neath joyous spell or sorrow's trance, But if their fruitage all could know We would not deem them half so low.
_WHICH LOVED HER BEST?_
Two votaries of love's maddening dream At twilight sat beside a stream, Each painting scenes of future bliss, Dependent on their darling's kiss.
Both were young and both were fair, With noble hearts and manly air, And both were members of a band Who bled to free his native land.
Each was bound both heart and soul Beneath fair Nellie's sweet control, Yet they were friends both true and tried, If such ere lived, if such ere died.
Each loved her much, yet neither knew How well each loved her, nor how true, For each was dreaming of the hour That _he_ would cull this priceless flower.
At last Ned turned and gayly said, "Next Wednesday I and Nellie wed-- God knows I am the happiest man In all this joyous Western land.
"I could not keep this back from you-- That would be unjust--untrue. I feel whatever shall betide That _you_ will e'er defend my bride."
Harvey turned aside his face, Lest his friend should see some trace Of the anguish and despair The hopeless suffering mirrored there.
Each word had sunk within his heart Like adder's tooth or poisoned dart; Joyful love and hope had fled, And left his withered heart--stone dead.
He raised his haggard face above Until an angel mother's love Sent comfort to her suffering child, That made him calm and meek and mild.
By memories of the tented field Where patriots died, but dared not yield, He knew that Ned his arm had lent To stop steel for his bosom meant,
And oft had watched beside his bed When others in dismay had fled; When he spoke, his voice was low And soft as rippling streamlets flow:
"I wish you peace and joy, Ned; You best deserve this queen to wed. I only crave in future life To serve you and your peerless wife."
The loyal look in Harvey's eyes Was to Ned a new surprise; And in a moment all was plain-- His friend's devotion and his pain.
They stood and wrung each others hand To reinforce their friendship's band-- Their hearts were full, their eyes were wet, Yet who can such a scene regret?
Their friendship stood the cruel test, And sank triumphant into rest; They parted, but to meet again Where life was torture, memory pain.
One year passed, and war had swept O'er the spot where these two wept, While they, with Meig's galland band, Were held by Santa Anna's hand.
Behind Satillo's gloomy walls, Whose history stoutest heart appalls, Here base deeds were hourly wrought With hell's intensest malice fraught.
Two hundred patriots true and tried To Santa Anna's shame here died Simply because they leapt the wall And strove to go beyond recall!
Ned and his comrades planned their flight While careless sentries slept at night, And in safety reached the distant plain Where hope and life revived again.
Across the arid plain they sped, Half clothed, half starved and almost dead; Without a guide to lead them right They toiled by day and prayed by night.
The blistering soil bold cactus bred Till every toil-worn foot was bled, And one by one the hapless band Fell prostrate on the glittering sand.
Pursuing soldiers found them thus, And drug and drove them to the "truss," There to await the "tortures grand" That Santa Anna would command.
"Nine of ten shall now be shot; Choose the guilty dogs by lot: This law for ages now untold Has defied both fraud and gold!"
_Nine black_ beans and _one_ snow _white_ Were placed within a box at night-- Every captive must draw one, Blindfolded, ere the work begun.
If _white_, he lived, if black, he died-- Thus were the Texas patriots tried! By sons of Gantimozin's race-- Man's caricature and heaven's disgrace!
Harvey drew one of faultless white, Ned drew one as black as night. "I'm lost--oh, God, my wife!" Ned gasped, As Harvey sprang his hand to clasp.
"Not so," he cried, "your bean is white-- See, mine is _black_, thank God! 'tis right!" E'er Ned could draw a conscious breath-- Harvey had met a hero's death!
Which loved her best, the man who _died_ Or he who _lived_ to cheer his bride? Please answer me; O heart, awake-- Such liberty I dare not take.
_THE STORMS OF LIFE._
BY SAM LAW.
The oak strikes deeper as his boughs By furious blasts are driven; So life's vicissitudes the more Have fixed my heart in heaven. All gracious Lord, whate'er my lot In other times may be, I'll welcome still the heaviest grief That brings me near to Thee.
_LOVE'S VICTIM._
She was no dainty city belle, Half art and half deceit, And yet no fairer vision The human eye could greet.
Naught knew she of city life Or fashion's changing art-- Nature created her a belle And blessed her with a heart.
Her eyes were large and soulful, Her face divinely fair; Her form was lithe and graceful And a golden dream her hair.
Her voice was full of melody: Each tone to listening ear Seemed to awake such music As angels delight to hear.
Beautiful, pure and guileless, With the faith of a trusting child, She worshiped the God of nature With a spirit undefiled.
She lived with honest parents In a home on the mountain side, Where peace and plenty lingered And love was true and tried.
Parental duress was unknown, For love's restraints are mild: A mother's love and father's hope Were centered in this child.
The acknowledged belle of the mountain, She spurned the coquette's art, Determining never to promise Her hand without her heart.
She could not love her suitors With the love a wife should give, And deemed it sin without such love In wedlock's bonds to live.
The idol of many a noble heart, None dared their suit to press: Thus they wound the gentle spirit That pitied, but could not bless.
Grateful for each friendly smile That o'er her face would beam, She reigned an empress absolute In each fond lover's dream.
A petted child of fashion, The heir to boundless wealth, Came one day among them To recruit his waning health.
These hospitable mountain people Welcomed the haggard boy, And strove to make his visit One radiant scene of joy.
They bade their darling daughter To be the stranger's guide, And show him all the beauties Of her loved mountain side.
Together they scaled the mountains, With many a merry shout; Together they garnered the flowers Or angled the nimble trout.
He spake of his home in the city, Of the wealth he soon would own; Promised to make Lenora his wife Ere the summer days had flown.
Lenora loved this stranger With a soul-absorbing love, And trembled 'neath his caresses As helpless as a dove.
He was a master of the art That robs the halls of Truth To gain what passion courts, Tho' it blasts the hopes of youth.
His honied words of flattery, Uttered with seductive art, Were music to the listening ear And soon deceived the heart.
Lenora confided in his worth, Receiving each promise as truth-- How could she doubt her only love In the trustful hours of youth?
Assured of an early marriage, She yielded to him one day That priceless germ of innocence And fell--to trust a prey.
She hoped this sacrifice would gain Her lover's every thought; This were a boon, if death could buy. She deemed not dearly bought.
Little she dreamed that fatal hour That love had sped the dart That stamped her as an outcast, With a withered, broken heart.
Eugene went to his city home, Swearing to soon return And claim as wife the girl he knew His parents proud would spurn.
Summer and autumn days passed by And the winter's cold set in, Yet the recreant lover came not To the child he taught to sin.
A mother's ever watchful eye Discovered her daughter's shame, Heard her story with breaking heart, But uttered no word of blame.
She knew her daughter's downfall Was the fruit of love beguiled, But hated the heartless stranger Who ruined her trusting child.
God alone can measure the pain That child and mother felt, As, locked in lingering embrace, In agony they knelt
And poured in heaven's listening ear Their heart-destroying grief; And who so bold as to deny That Heaven sent relief?
The father learned his daughter's sin And drove her from his door. "Go!" he said, "you guilty wretch, You are my child no more."
Stung by these cruel, terrible words, She fled in wild affright In search of the heartless lover, Her fearful wrongs to right.
She tracked the guilty miscreant down, And he, to save his name, Hid her till her child was born In a house of doubtful fame.
The world looked on the helpless child With cold, unpitying eye. The villian bade his dupe go home, "Repent of her sin and die."
She heard, and from her glittering eye No tear of anguish sped-- With dagger drawn she reached his side, And struck the villain _dead_!
With her babe she sought her father's door And pled with a piteous cry A shelter for her hapless babe While the storm was raging high.
"Begone, you wretch!" the father cried, "I curse the hour that gave Birth to a wretch whose sin has laid My wife within the grave."
"My mother dead! and I still live? Ah! whither shall I fly? O God! protect my hapless babe, And suffer me to die."
The storm increased; she wandered on Almost till break of day, Till weary, wet and almost dead, She knelt in the path to pray.
The sky was lit from end to end By the lightning's awful glare, And a falling tree pinned both to earth As they knelt in the act of prayer!
They found them thus in the morning light, And the father's grief was wild. He tenderly looked on the touching scene And at last forgave his child!
They buried Lenora and her nameless babe Close beside her mother's clay, And each one spake in kindly tones Of the hapless ones that day.
The arm that sent the dagger home Was nerved by a brain dethroned: 'Tis Lenora's was an awful deed, But her terrible death atoned.
Aye, let us hope the much-wronged child Has reached a home above Where babes can live who have no name And 'tis not sin to love.
_A PRISONER'S LAMENTATION._
A poor convict in his cell lay dying: He thought of home and loved ones dear, He asked his cell-mate, in a whisper, "Do you think the end is drawing near?"
"If I should die before I see them Tell them how I longed tonight To have my mother's blessed care To leave this world of sin and strife."
Oh! how he longed to see his mother And the cottage on the hill-- "_God bless them all_," I heard him whisper, As with tears his eyes did fill.
"Will they think of me--a prisoner-- I, who was once their pride and joy? While I sleep in the churchyard yonder Will they think of their wayward boy?
"I know I've caused them lots of trouble In wild and reckless boyish day, But I hope that God will now forgive me When from this earth I'm called away.
"I know it broke my mother's heart When she heard of me, her wayward son, Who five long years did serve in prison For a highway robbery he had done.
"Has Sister "Minn," whom I used to play with In days of youth, forgotten me? If she has, I vow I can not blame her, For I've caused her pain and shame, not glee.
"There's but one wish I now shall mention-- That Mother's days may be days of joy, And when she asks for me in prison Speak mildly of her convict boy.
"Here, take this to my dear old mother! I know 'tis but a lock of hair, But it's all I've got to give her now-- I know she'll treasure it with care."
And when he handed me the keepsake His spark of life had nearly fled. He clenched my hand and uttered "_Mother_!" And a poor convict there lay dead.
May all young men now take fair warning From one who's had experience long: Guard strong against temptation's dawning-- Cast off evil and do no wrong.
In your younger days _court_ good, _shun_ evil; Be careful who you companions choose; When you make life's start then do not cavil-- March manfully on to win, not lose.
_OUR BOARD OF MANAGERS._
Long have we lived in misery and woe; Long have we suffered from "kindness" cold as snow; Long has pernicious influence been kept Hovering 'round our misery, while in dungeons we have slept.
Long have we suffered from want of human care: Long have we been bearded as the tiger in his lair: Long have we went hungry for want of proper food, And felt the sting of th' master's lash, as o'er our task we stood.
As the dark and gloomy cloud, that hovered o'er our past, Has been wafted off by humane hands--'tis swept away at last. We now emerge from darkness into a welcome light, And live in brighter future hopes--a day made out of night.
We hail you, noble, honest men, whose hearts beat five as one, Thus far in your prison work your duty you have done; Eternal God will always right the brutal wrongs of man, And therefore He did send you here to do the best you can.
A Cherrington, for the chairman, is a master stroke, you know. And a Rose is always welcome, 'cause virtue he will sow; A McConica, of democrat fame, is a power behind the throne, While a Hoffman, sent from Cleveland, is a father to the home; A Muscroft from old "Cincy" is a rattler for the place; They all do join their hands and thoughts and duty bravely face, While a McAdow records their acts with a gentlemanly grace.
They issue mandates right and left and order what is just; They raise poor fallen, helpless man to a place of welcome trust; They seek to lead him on the way to a nobler, better life, And restore him to his children and his broken hearted wife.
Their Coffin always sits close by to lend a helping hand, And faithfully their trust does keep--a leader of their band. Well they know the awful fruitage of each harsh and brutal plan Is to rouse the lurking tiger in the breast of erring man.
Now they rule, whose every impulse ripened by enlightened thought, And it leads to many actions that with highest good is fraught. And they use with great discretion measures that are just and kind, Hoping to reform the erring through the agency of mind.
They have learned the useful lesson taught men from the power above, That the greatest force in nature is the power of inspired love. They have learned that rank dissension from all evil nature flows, And they deem that man the greatest who can ease most mortal woes.
Let us ever sing enchanting of our now official corps As they lift us from dark ruin as it has been heretofore. See! the clouds so lately darkening o'er the prisoner's gloomy past, Mercy's hand is fast dispelling--REASON _takes the reins at last_!
_A TRIBUTE TO ASSISTANT DEPUTY WARDEN L. H. WELLS_.
BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS.
Comrade, may the God of heaven ease the maddening pain That has swept across your bosom since your son was slain; Think not of him as a mortal mouldering into dust;-- God, too, loved him and, my comrade, He betrays no trust.
You shall see him when the morning breaks above the night of death, And your parting, O, my comrade, will but seem a passing breath. Well I know the awful pressure grief exerts upon the soul, But I know it will but whiten what it can't control.
You have met on field of battle many a gallant foe, And, with patriotism burning, gave them blow for blow, You have fought till every rebel bent the suppliant knee, And the land you loved and cherished once again was free.
You despise no gallant fellow who once wore the blue When it cost both blood and treasure if a man was true. You forgive the trivial errors of that noble band, And you meet a loyal comrade with extended hand.
You have friends in every station where your worth is known; You have showered acts of kindness that but few have known. Since your advent in this prison you have daily won Hearts that ever will remember _acts of kindness nobly done_.
Comrade, time is passing swiftly, and Jehovah his reveille Soon will sound upon the hilltops of a vast eternity. May we gather with our comrades on that ever beautiful shore And, like conquering heroes, listen to Heaven's plaudits ever more.
_ONE AND A FEW._
BY 21069.
Of all the pet pleasures so pleasing to man In his present degenerate state, I doubt if there's any can make him so glad As the one I'm about to relate.
While here he's confined he's troubled in mind With his "fifteen" or "twenty" to do, And he longs for the day when he boldly can say: "I've only got one and a few."
Then keep a strong heart. With courage don't part, But manfully fight your way through; Be it "five" or it "ten" or twice that again, 'Twill come down to "one and a few."
How often at night when I sit in my cell, After working quite hard all the day, My memory goes back to the time that I fell, For the "bit" which I now have to stay.
And sometimes, I own, while sitting alone I feel sad and disconsolate, too; But it makes me feel gay when I think I can say, "I've only got one and a few."
Oh, many's a home that's cheerless tonight, And many's the mother feels drear; When she thinks of the one far away from her sight It causes her many a tear.
Though others may cleave to her, you are the same; Misfortune but makes her more true; She may now be quite sad, but won't she feel glad When you've only got "one and a few?"
Then, don't be discouraged. No matter how long In this prison you may have to stay, You know that to worry and fret is quite wrong, Far better drive dull care away.
Old Time is the boy your "bit" to destroy As he jogs along, contented and true; And so, in the end, you'll find he's the friend That brought you to "one and a few."
_MIDNIGHT MUSINGS._
'Tis midnight! The sentry's muffled tread Is heard within these walls: As silent as the living dead He makes his regular calls.
I try to sleep, but all in vain; I try to close--I weep, I hear that muffled tread again-- The sentries on me peep.
I hear a voice so clear and plain-- It calls to me aloud-- It calls to me again, again; That voice comes from a shroud.
Hist! Hist! vile heart, be still! No fear, My angel sister's voice I hear! It speaks to me in accents clear And bids me shun a vile career.
She bids me meet her once again And live in Heaven's fairest clime. Nor shall her pleading be in vain-- _Resolved_, I'll do no crime.
Oh, could I feel her warm embrace As when, in days of old, I gazed into her angeled face-- It gave happiness untold.
Oh, let me live my boyhood days As in the time gone by! And let me consecrate her ways When for this boy she'd cry.
But, hist! again the muffled tread Comes gliding, silent as the dead, Along the beat within these walls-- Hark! Hark! again dear sister calls.
_A QUERY._
BY MORSE.
When the long weary days are over And the front gates open to you, Are you again to be a wild rover? What are you going to do?
Have you plans or dreams for the future? Have the days any brightness for you? Will you be a poor homeless creature? What are you going to do?
Should your old-time friends forsake you-- Those who were strong and true-- And leave you helpless, homeless-- What are you going to do?
But you have one friend who is faithful, Who is always kind and true. Read His word and study His gospel-- He'll tell you what to do.
_STRAY THOUGHTS._
In the fathomless depths of the mighty deep What wonders live, what mysteries sleep! What mind can name the sightless things That live in the ocean's hidden springs, Where treasures heaped on treasures lie, Forever secure from the human eye; Where creatures sport, that God alone Can know their joy or hear their moan?
Who knows but the bride of the Dublin Bay May walk in the ocean's depths today, Arm in arm with her own dear Roy In the conscious flush of honeymoon joy? Who knows but the hearts that sadly yearned For the gallant ship that never returned, Have met, in the ocean's unknown bed, The loved, tho' lost, we all thought dead?
Science has proved the human frame Is water and salt by another name! Hydrography yet may teach mankind The open door of heaven to find. "Davie Jones' locker" may prove to be Instinct with life, by death set free! Knew we the tongue of the deep sea shell What wondrous news its notes might tell!
The myriad stars in yonder skies May be the beams of death-freed eyes That watch us from an unknown shore, Still faithful to the vows of yore! The vaulted blue of heaven may be The looking glass of the mighty sea, Where deathless souls their vigils keep O'er fast decaying world, asleep.
Atlantis, the fabled city of old, Whose gates inspired poets behold, May now be resting beneath the wave, Triumphant o'er a watery grave! Its pearly gates and glittering spires Arouse the poet's mad desires. He sees--and sings in tongue unknown-- The mysteries by the Muses shown.
Conducted by a sybil fair, He penetrates each demon lair And pictures hell, in golden speech, Beyond imagination's reach. To highest heaven his thought has flown And measured and admired the throne; Made angels bow beneath his rod And dared to mould the mind of God!
Who knows but legends the Muses tell Are truths encased in a mighty dream? Who knows but the angels of earth and air Are the beautiful nymphs beside each stream? Each singing bird and nodding flower May be imbued with potent power; And stars an influence, too, may wield And bless or curse our natal hour!
Who knows but what we call a brute Is with immortal reason blest? Who knows man is alone divine And destined to immortal rest? Theorize and reason as we may, How little we can really know; We only learn to live, then die, And who may say to what we go?
_JUDGE NOT, LEST YE BE JUDGED._
BY SAM LAW.
Art thou so good, so free from sin That thou should'st judge thy fellow men? Look well to self before the stone, Aimed at thy brother's faults, be thrown, Behold in thee A Pharisee.