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LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA.

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That might hunger's keen pang release; The many shall not bow to the tyrannous few, But all men be treated as men! [ing sue--When the poor for their lives shall not kneelO, when is that time? tell me when! Yes, there is a land where the weary can rest,

A home for the grief-laden heart; [pressed, A time when true manhood shall not be opNor groan under poverty's smart: [come, A clime where no grief and no sorrow can Where riches all shall alike share!

To reach it, with Christ we must enter the

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tomb;

With Him we must pass it,-'tis there.

POSTHUMOUS APPRECIATION.
There grew a plant, the legends tell,
While many years went by;
It held all fragrance, as a spell,
And mirrored earth and sky:
It garnered all the sweets of air,
From every wind that blew,
And in its life held treasured rare
Worth, more than wise men knew.
One day rough feet, with cruel tread

Had crushed it to the ground,

Lo! when 'twas crushed it fragrance shed,

And filled the air around.

Men marveled that to plant not fair

Such fragrance had been given;

Nor dreamed, till crushed, it was so rare

And held incense of Heaven.

GEORGE RUDDELL.

BORN: UTICA, IND., APRIL 1, 1868. REMOVING to Paola, Kansas, at an early age George was there educated, and later attended the Baker university at Baldwin City, passing examination in that institution two years later. About this time George commenced teaching school, which avocation he has since followed.

LIFE IS A RIVER.
We can fight a lively battle
To the end if we are true;
We can make our firearms rattle
And the enemy pursue.

If our cause is what it should be
And we do what we think right,
We shall live a life as happy
As the noonday sun is bright.
Can't we fight the ever tempter
With a will and all our might,
For the joys the Savior's offer,
For the peace and truth and light?
We have but to push sin backward,
And our will then to control;

And we'ell find our path clear'd homeward
There with Christ our Savior stroll.

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If pigs in clover" baffles skill,

Lord! what does this, I wonder.

I start with Pee," then ..Ef" and

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Vee,"

64

And travel on to "Eshon;"

I tangle. Ray" with "Dee" and "Gay,"
Regardless of discretion.

I strive to get the word-signs fixed,
But something seems to blur them,
And all the hooks" and "curves" get
mixed,

Whene'er I try to Ster" them.

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66

An Iss" with "Tee" makes it a Stee,"

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It seems most like a fable,

"Yeh-lay" with

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Bee is. You-will-be,"

And.. Bee with

An

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64

El-hook". Able."

.. my," .. him"

66 Em" means " me," "

and "may,"

While Em" with 64 Shon" means

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ASPIRAMUS NOBLISIMUS REBUS. While sojourning on this terrestrial ball, With trials and troubles to grieve us: May this maxim be firmly impressed upon all, Aspiramus Noblisimus Rebus."

Like the swift flying clouds are our days fleeting by

Soon or later grim death will receive us; Be not overcome, but this maxim apply,..Aspiramus Noblisimus Rebus."

The flowers that bloom through the long summer days,

Of the frailty of life mutely plead us,

To be earnest and prayerful and give God the praise,

Aspiramus Noblisimus Rebus."

Be hopeful when sore with affliction distressed:

"Though hope very oft will deceive us, Our Father is good, and means all for the best,-

.. Aspiramus Noblisimus Rebus."

When the soul is cast down and dark clouds hover 'round,

And friends to our fate seem to leave us, In the darkest of clouds, silver lining is found,--

"Aspiramus Noblisimus Rebus."

In temptation's hour when trials begin,
And Satan conspires to deceive us:
Yield not to temptation, for yielding is sin,
"Aspiramus Noblisimus Rebus."

Sit not idly down and of life fondly dream,
Twill not from our sorrows retrieve us:
Come weal or come woe let this be your
theme,---

"Aspiramus Noblisimus Rebus."

When with sorrow o'erwhelmed, and with sadness depressed,

When our efforts seem naught to achieve us, Trust fully in God -- he'll take care of the rest, "Aspiramus Noblisimus Rebus."

In faminine's dark day, in adversity's hour, Remember God's promise to feed us;

To Him be dominion and glory and power -"Aspiramus Noblisimus Rebus."

If the storms of this life we would safely outride.

Een though our afflictions bereave us, Cling firm to this maxim whatever betide, "Aspiramus Noblisimus Rebus."

MRS. LAURA S. R. MCCARTHY.

BORN IN LEWIS CO., N. Y.

THE exacting duties of student, teacher and housekeeper in succession, have operated, together with great delicacy of constitution, to thwart the expenditure, by this lady, of time and energy in the direction of authorship. Mrs. McCarthy has, however, produced numerous poems that have been widely copied in prominent journals. In 1878 she married Edward McCarthy, a lawyer of great prominence, of Lowville, N. Y., where she now resides. Personally she is a pleasant lady, and is constantly surrounded by a host of friends and admirers.

COMPENSATION.

No darkened cloud, no rainbow spans the soul;

No doubt, hope, wears no wreath of victory won;

No toil, no ecstacy of rest; the sun

No rising glory flings 'till veiled by night; No wrong 'mong men, no triumph of the right;

No death, no life where Heaven's blest ages roll.

MIDNIGHT.

"Tis night's mid-glory - Earth, so calm, so still,

On couch of space is wrapped in slumber's spell;

How soft and pure her bosom's rounded swell 'Neath fleecy robes, and placid radiance shed From silver orb, like watcher's lamp, o'erhead!

While starry legions dimly throng and fill Her airy chamber, whence all sound is fled Save breath of rising prayer, or whir of wings

As angels viewless pass, or heavenward springs

The guardian who hath wrought the Father's will.

Midnight and moonlight, silence, stars and God

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LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA.

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Why should I care for those who gaze

On me with cold, indifferent eye, Since oft there comes a loving throng

Who never once have passed me by. And yet, this human heart of mine

For human sympathy oft yearns; Yet that in which deception lurks

My whole soul rises up and spurns. For peace and truth and love are mine, And wheresoe'er these powers are known 1 walk serene, content to know

That I am never all alone.

But human eye a limit has

Which may not penetrate the heart; And so I clasp my faith more close, And patiently I walk apart. For well I know there'll come a time When I'll no longer walk alone,

For in the home that is to be

My heart shall know and claim its own.

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LEWIS J. EARLY.

BORN: PELLVILLE, KY., FEB. 2, 1865. SEVERAL Works have been written and published by Lewis J. Early under the nom de plume of Markus Pillsberry, which are of a

Till death shall call for us and take us away To moulder to dust in the grave.

Then proudly thy waves on the farther shore,

Will tell of the dear ones who are gone, And gently thy ripples roll proudly away To join in the murmuring song.

Then silent and sadly along the dear stream, Our friends will in memory come

To gaze on thy bosom, to sing the sad song Of the loved ones who've gone to their home.

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ON THE OHIO RIVER.

All quiet along the Ohio to-day,

No cry save the scream of the crane, As he murders the fish on the farther shore, While he tramps in the sand and the rain. All peaceful to-day on the river shore, All silent along the white sand;

But swiftly and smoothly the boats glide along,

'Mong the billows so proudly and grand. All quiet along the Ohio this eve,

The murmuring waters, how clear! While sadly we gaze on each sandy reef, And sigh for the ones who are here. Listless and still are the leaves on the trees,--For the autumn has called again, And on thee we gaze, dear Ohio, with these, And long for the cool 'freshing rain. All quiet along the Ohio to-night,

The night winds blow coldly and drear, While soft falls the dew on thy bosom again, And the night-bird we distantly hear. Thou dost not forsake us, Ohio, thou'rt here, And on thee we fondly will gaze,

MRS. MARCIA M. SISCO. BORN: STEUBEN CO., N. Y., MAY 31, 1832. MRS. SISCO has written both prose and verse, and her poems have received publication in the local press. She now resides in Pomeroy, Iowa.

AN APPEAL TO LIBERTY.
Spirit of love unstring your golden harp
And lay it down before the eternal throne;
Then bow thy head and plead with liberty,
To unglove her hands and then unveil her
face,

And look with naked eyes upon her sword-
Red with oppression's blood; then trace
With naked hands the many names
Written upon the surface of her throne,
In raised letters so bold and prominent
That they can be both seen and felt;
And there are pictures, too, wrought by her
hand-

Pictures of men - good, honest men--
With daggers at their throats

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Because of unbelief in Christian creeds; Nurslings of tyranny-offsprings of misery, too,

Held in the lap of ignorance and crime,
And drawing at the paps of foul disease,
Their souls baptised at the dark, dismal fount
Of sin and death. And most of them
Crushed by heavy burdens unmerciful to bear,
And bound in menial chains of servitude
Before earth's monied kings. And now,
Oh! tyranny, clothed in freedom's robes ---
Wearing upon thy cursed brow the starry
crown,

And holding in thy strong right hand
The key to prison walls, and in thy left
The flowing bowl-thine armor stamped
With customs, creeds and dogmas ---
But wholly void of God's almighty truth;
Ope wide the doors of nature's gilded halls
And bathe their guilty souls

With the pure bracing air of freedom's bowers.

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