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Ere yet am

Triumphant climbs the dazzling height

A BRIER ROSE. Where stand the world's great sages, Is this the boon desired so much, Yet in that book takes most delight

This thorny rose we cannot touch, Where human hearts are pages.

But we are wounded for our pains, A soul completely purged from sin

Yet clasp it while the thorn remains? By God's all-cleansing fire,

For Love did once in Eden dwell,
That all its spacious courts within,

Ere yet among the thorns it fel,
Holds not one base desire,

That now is but a brier rose
And fit, by innate worth, to win

Amid the wilderness that grows.
A place in heavenly choir.

No sweeter rose was ever seen; - From Paradise, a being bright,

But ah! ber thorns, how sharp and keen,
Su seems my fair Ideal

How deep they pierce, how long abide,
Who sits beside me as I write,

How closely in her beauty hide,
A soul sufficing real."

For every rose a thorn, a tear -
Who wants a flower that costs so dear?

For Love is but a brier rose,
THE MOUNT OF VISION.

A thing of joy, beset with woes.
Before us loomed the towering Mount of

But ah! how rich and red and rare
Vision;

Her roses are. Who would not dare
We stood together at the very base,
And, looking upward, made the firm decision

The wounding of her thorns to bear

This fairest earthly rose to wear!
We'd test the rough ascent with even pace.
We saw the beetling crags and deep recesses

For there is nothing sweeter here,
O'er which our way must lie, but we were told

Tho' full of thorns and costing dear;

And it will bloom one day, be sure,
That he who to the highest summit presses
Will see the gates to Elysian fields unfold.

A brier rose no more, no more.
Hand joined in hand, we climbed the lofty

DADDY JIM. mountain; We passed the jutting crags and threatening

.Daddy Jim? Daddy Jim! are you deaf and

blind?” peaks; No pleasant grove was there, nor cooling

The boys are shouting it loud and clear; fountain,

But faintly it falls on the old man's ear, Nor rest, save that which high ambition seeks,

Like a muffled bell, that we hardly mind. Yet sweet companionship made labor lighter, Daddy Jim stood still, and he looked so good,

And obstacles surmounted trained the feet With his old hands crossed on his oaken staff, For fresh exertions, and the way grew brighter That the boys all stopped and forgot to Illumed by light that shone from Victory's

laugh, seat.

And gathered around where the old man stood. We stand together on the Mount of Vision,

.. Nay, boys, I am not deaf," said Daddy Jim, And now we know the path our feet have trod Has led to Duty's fields, not fields of Elysian,

. Though very faint and far your voices

sound, And far above us stretch the heights of God,

And I am not blind, though everything round But toward those regions pure we turn our

Is fading on my sight and getting dim. faces, Oh comrades! May our life-work, just begun, “I have gone so far on the wide, wide river, Though other hopes the hand of Time erases,

That the shores of earth are a melting view, Receive at last the crowning word: Well And the sounds that reach me are faint and done!

few;

They'll come to me soon no more forever. MARIA LOUISE EVE.

.. But neither deaf nor blind is Daddy Jim, Born: AUGUSTA, GA.

When his name is called from the nearer

shore, The first literary success of Miss Eve was an !

Where the hearts that loved him are gone essay entitled Thoughts About Talking, which

before, received the prize of one hundred dollars offered by Scott's Monthly of Atlanta, and in

And there white hands beckon across to him. 1879 the poem Conquered at Last received a So I strain my eyes and ears no longer prize. The short poem of A Brier Rose also For the sights and sounds of that fading received a prize in 1889 from the Augusta

shore; Chronicle. Miss Eve hopes soon to publish a But I fix them full on the Land before, complete book of her poems.

| And every day they are getting stronger.”

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R. FLETCHER GRAY, M. D.

Bors: BrowNSVILLE, PA., MAY 11, 1841. CxDER a nom de plume, Doctor Gray has for years contributed both prose and verse to the Journals of Boston, New York, Chicago and St. Louis, which have been read and admired.

THE ECHO OF A FALLING LEAF. Yellow and sere, so pale, so dead, Fluttering down on the brook's bare bed, It silently pleads, so I bear it home To explore its life's mysterious tome. But brief months since, 'twas an embryo Nestled so snug in its cell to grow --No botanist now can begin to tell Its transformation, ere it fell. Yet erst in life, it was fresh and fair; And, sporting free in the balmy air, It cared not one whit for sun and rain They made it all the brighter again. It quaffed the dew, reflected the light, Then, rocked to sleep in the cradle of

Night, 2woke, with Aurora, robed in green, And warbled the song of a fairy queen. While gazing upon this sycamore leaf, We touchingly ask, who is the thief That dares outrage, with ruffian hand, This foliage queen once great, so grand? In Luna's cycle, came Wod, by night From his crystal North, full frosted

white; And, gliding by, with his icy breath, He hushed this leaf in the sleep of death. It rests before me,- faded and gone;" Though dead, it pleads with a prophet's

tongue: The life whose breath inspires this line, Ere long will be as extinct as mine."

We all do fade as a leaf;" thus true Our Mother's Book speaks to me, to you;

The fading flower or leaflet's fall, But heralds the common lot of all." We all do fade? Ay, sweetly true, As the leaf are we, like the early dew:But sweeter thought; if brave and true, We simply fade to flourish anew.

Thou stoodst, the pillar'd form of Hope,

Who roused my will, but cooled my head, Whilst passions wild upon the lope,

Before this nobler impulse fled, I felt thy magnet draw me high,

Like staguant water by the sun; I felt I was not made to die,

But pour my life on every one. Thy flame electric, mild, I caught,

It works a chord which long has slept; Such aspiration in me wrought

That for the moment I was kept; Why did it pass, a fleeting cloud,

And leave my sun of passion hot, With all its former force endowed?

Oh, why should this have been my lot? When shall I rise and reign with thee,

Linked with thy finer frame of mind; Ay, rise and be from passion free,

And the angelic virtue find!
What wealth 'twould be to have and hold

An angel in a nature new,
Oh, this is worth all Afric's gold,

Bestowed upon the favored few.
Then should I married be to good,

Like dwellers in the spotless skies; But more like thee who by me stood,

When thy bright vision filled mine eyes; Then ever near thee I should stand,

And always feel thy warmth and light; And walking with thee hand in hand

Strew this sad earth with flowers bright. But oh! to know that I have felt

Such joys which have my nature tried; And made the dross within me melt,

But left the gold more purified !
My hope shall never sink at this -

Perhaps my vision may come true;
The gods work miracles of bliss,
And sometimes make but one of two!

ALONZO A. ROWLEY.

BORN: CHICAGO, ILL., Jan. 17, 1848. MANY of the poems of Mr. Rowley have found their way from time to time into the local press. A pamphlet of Campaign Songs, containing about twenty poems from his pen, was published some years ago, which received quite a wide sale. He is at present a member of the bar in Beloit, Wisconsin, where he is well known as a lawyer, poet and scholar.

AN ASPIRATION.
Ah, once I felt thy presence near,

Thy helping hand to me was given,
Itswept my soul and calmed my fear,

Like love's bright messenger from heaven. I felt thy manly strength and worth

Which o'er my darkened pathway played, Like the sun's light shed on the earth, When, as of old, its course was stayed.

OUR RED, WHITE AND BLUE. On the banks of the Potomac

In a mansion so grand, Whose occupant threatens

To crush this fair land; He has joined in a league

With the whole British crew,

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And floats a bandana

ELLA REGISTER INGLE. For the Red, White and Blue.

BORN: PRAIRIE CITY, IA., 1870. CH0.-- Hurrah! Hurrah!

ELLA's parents moved to Altoona, Iowa, when We're a party so true,

she was a child, and that city is still the place Three cheers for Protection,

of her residence. Her poems have appeared And the Red, White and Blue,

in the local press, and have received favorable When the monster Secession

mention.
Attacked our fair craft,
This ambitious statesman

THE VALE OF DESPAIR.
Was dodging the draft;

There lies a great vale amid the pleasures of And while - Little Philip"

life, To Winchester flew,

Its sky is ever cloudy, no sunshine there; He was plotting to ruin

There's nothing but loss and lasting strife, The Red, White and Blue.

And earth's weary souls given up in despair. And while he is covering

In this solemn vale fond hopes lie withered, Our veterans with slurs,

And deep flows the voiceless river of woe, He is toadying daily

Which glides with tears sweet fancy plumes, To the bold southerners;

All dark and drear at evening glow. And with their assistance

There the willow weeps o'er hearts that are Is trying anew

broken To trail in the dust,

And the thorns are all the garden flowers; The old Red, White and Blue.

Trouble lingers, and is a word oft spoken, We have matched this Goliah

That rings through the soul's enchanted With a brave Hoosier lad,

bowers. Who inherits the metal

Yes deeper and deeper grows life's dark cloud, Of his famous Grand-dad;

Full af terror and long unspeaking sorrow, And the genius that guided

Far from the guidance of the Master's hand Old Tippecanoe,

They can look ahead to no brighter morrow, Will conquer with Ben

No kind friend is waiting on that dismal shore And the Red, White and Blue.

To cheer them on their way with one tender

smile; LEONARD SHERMAN MILEY.

Where bright golden promises are lost everBORN: HOLMES CO., O., JULY 9, 1865.

more, MR. MILEY has received a good education, And not a wan sunbeam e'er lingers awhile. and is now engaged in teaching. He has but | But far from this vale are hearts filled with just commenced to court the muse.

joy,

With no seeming sorrow and with the tide EXTRACT.

They dwell beneath fair, sunny skies Had you ever thought of the like before?".

And bright hopes blooming on each side. You asked as we stood in the open door.

No silvery mist is hanging o'er this vale Indeed the decision was not of an hour

Clear is the way for weary barks to journey Since then I thought there's been many a

there; shower.

Time brings to view the hands torn and pale, My life for thee, 'twould make me sad

And the heart is silent given up in despair. Should I ever fail to make your heart glad;

Oh, Vale of Despair! for me thy gates are ever Many thoughts come up, but mercy dispel,

ajar, Freeze my spirit if I fail to act well.

And naught but darkness gleams from thy Ages could not efface one thought

glory; With such pleasant pleasures bought.

But away through the azure dome afar The fading leaves trembled and glowed,

Shines the light of an untold story. The moon a ray upon you throwed.

Weary soul, be content with thy lot, whate'er When passing by the remembered way,

it may be, We thought of those beneath the clay:

And use thy life as sweet song birds doDews from heaven were calmly falling--

To gladden the world while here you stay, Memory the tears from our eyes was calling. Then homeward fly when thy day is through. Night's daughter, morning, wrapped a wrap, Yes, homeward fly, where sorrows never come, Silent but sure was a new day's tap.

For all hopes are bright in the future, there: Rosy fingered morn painted the sky

Just keep striving, your joys to renew, - Good-by," and parted were you and I.

And never go down in this Vale of Despair.

JOHN A. WEBSTER. Born: PUTNAM CO., IND., JULY 9, 1863. AFTER graduating at Central college, Danville, Indiana, Mr. Webster taught school for five years, and entered upon a journalistic career in 1887, first publishing the Gazette in Golden, Kansas. In tbe same year he pur;

The stars to me were lamps of love,

The dewdrop one of God's tears.
The fair blue canopy above,

So inviting seemed to be,
And all nature, whose song is love,

Whispered wonderful things to me.
I sorrowed when any doubted this,

To me it all seemed plain,
The good would have eternal bliss,

And the wicked have endless pain,
Our childhood days are with the past,

Memory is all that's left us now,
We fondly hoped they'd longer last,

A vision is all time will allow.
Next came youth ever bright and gay,

With golden days without a tear;
Other fancies then led the way,

And life's pathway again was dear. 'Twas then the light of sunny days,

Brought brighter beauties to our view, 'Twas then our feet were wont to stray,

Where taller, gayer flowers grew. The prize of life was then to win,

Our hearts and hands seemed strong, And our ears caught the far off din,

Echoing low the welcome song. But time has hurried us along,

To youth we bid a sad adieu, We enter college firm and strong,

And other beauties we pursue. Pleasant to us has been the work

Assigned by teachers dear; ..'Ever Onward” is our motto- to shirk

We have long learned to fear. Mathematics we've pondered hard,

Triangles right, obtuse, acute, Have taught us e'er to be on guard

Their sides or angles to compute.
Next came Latin, hardest of all,

Illud, amabamus studere,
The wooden horse within the wall
Offered sacred to Minervæ.

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Mistakes we have made, it is true,

Though these we always tried to shun; Errors -- mirabile dictu,

Were frequent, not always in fun.

The Sciences perfect, complete,

We've follow'd from flower to star, The Heaven, like a silver sheet, Its beauties to us has unbarred.

Thick by the roadside, blooming near,

Were the sweetest and gayest flowers, The hum of the bee, still I can hear,

Is it sped from bower to bower. Little I knew of the Heaven above,

Little of the earth's wide spbere;

The pebble now in beauty abounds:

The flowers new beauties impart; The world in harmony resounds

Its Maker, itself a counterpart.

How pleasant have been our school days

Within these dear and aged walls, We'll think of them on our journeys

As future years around us fall. Together we've walked life's pathway,

Culling flow'rs from Wisdom's garden fair, The summons to part we must obey, And with others our pleasures share.

ROSA WYATT. This lady has a prose work which she hopes soon to place upon the market. Her poems have appeared from time to time in the periodical press.

These cherished days are ended,

They are numbered with the past; Time, in his ever onward tread, Holds them forever in his grasp.

How oft we will think with pleasure

of the school room - our friendly ties, No clouds their luster can obscure, They'll dearer grow as in our minds they

rise. We've clambered gaily the hills of truth,

Hand in hand 'long the radiant way, To teachers, kind guardians of our youth, We bid a sad farewell to-day.

A hope is left us, a solace great,

To cheer our hearts of grief and pain, 'Tis this, as our pathways separate,

We part some time to meet again. Glad in strength of new found youth,

Glad in the thought of other days, We'll climb the coveted hills of truth,

And live again our happiest days. Deeper will grow our love of faith,

In things we're unable to prove, In a life that is free from death, And a power that works by love.

THE ANGEL'S MESSAGE. An angel came from Heaven one day,

Down through the realms of space, He sought a nearer view of earth,

It seemed a lovely place. » When he had reached the home of men

What anguish filled his heart! He saw 'twas sorrow, guilt and sin

Kept Heaven and earth apart.
Where'er he turned a scene of woe

Fell on his wondering sight,
Of helpless ones as cowering slaves

Crushed 'neath the heel of might.
He saw the world in sorrow steeped,

He knew 'twas caused by sin;
The germs of Satan's vicious seeds

Sown in the hearts of men.
He saw the tempter weave a net,

A wily subtle snare;
And in its meshes saw entrapped

A maiden young and fair.
He saw him place a shimmering screen

Before the face of truth;
And in this filmy flattering guise

Presented it to youth.
At last, with pity, grief and love,

His angel heart o'erflowed;
The story of those wrongs he bore

To the great heart of God.
And that same hour in Heaven was born

A gem of purest light;
The child of virtue joined to Truth,

Its christening name was Right.
The watching angel saw with joy

Its glorious nature mold
The livening rays from out its heart,

Brighter than burnished gold.
Then to the one whose heart was touched,

With grief for sins of men,
Was given the message sweet to bring

Back to the earth again.
The loving angels gathered 'round-

They knew its priceless worth;
In Heaven all things are Right, they said,

Go bear it to the earth.
Then hold it up and hold it high,

And keep it e'er in sight;
An attribute from God's own heart,

The precious name of Right.

The future is ours with hopes untold,

New fields of labor yet remain, New beauties in nature we'll behold

If . Onward and Upward " is our aim.

Time will bring some shadows, too,

Cares and pleasures that'll never fade, Life is a picture, old yet new,

A commingling of light and shade. But while the thoughts of other times

So bright, so free, we wander o'er, There comes a thought, in another clime We'll meet again to part no more.

By and by in a world that's new,

In a life that is all untried, We'll pluck with pleasure, glad and true,

Flowers eternal on the other side.

Teachers, friends, it is hard to leave

The place we have loved so well, But the hour has come when we must

breathe The parting words, farewell, farewell.

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