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LOUIS X. CRILL. BORN: SPRAGUEVILLE, IOWA, JUNE 3, 1867. Louis engaged in the mercantile business in 1882, and is the proprietor of a general merchandise store in Richland, Dakota, where he now resides with his wife, whom he married in 1888. He has but recently commenced to court the muse, yet his writings have in a
To show the world in deed and name
That woman's in the van.
Stand firm for truth and right;
Is tinged with one sad blight.
To abrogate the laws
A slave to any cause.
In justice always scorn,
Until a good is born.
Posterity may call
Gave equal rights to all.
anguish and pain;
the sky is aflame. Nations are boasting in luxury, while its
sovereigns are living in need; Liberty sits on its pedal, while the millions in
serfdom do bleed. Musical strains are vibrating, while the notes
of distress reek the air; Sunshine is sending its blessing, and the
shadows of trouble are there. Great are the names of the wealthy, but hum
ble the tiller of soil; Pinioned are angels of fortune, but wingless
the daughters of toil. LOUIS N. CRILL
Gilded the rainbow of hope, that bows o'er a comparatively short time appeared extensive
life of despair; ly in many prominent publications, including Sweet are the songs of the birds that warble the New York Truth Seeker, Sturdy Oak, and
in seasons of care. the American Nonconformist. In person Mr.
Gay are the symbols of fashion, in a city of Crill is five feet ten inches in height, weighs
mis'ry and pain; 175 pounds, and bas dark hair and eyes. A vol
Grand the cathedrals of state, while the poor ume of his poems will soon be published.
live in hovels of shame.
Rosy the tint of the sunset, that is domed in MOTHER'S ADVICE.
the sky of the west; When you grow up, my darling boy, Drifted away by the breezes are the clouds of To manhood, good and true,
dismay and distress. You'll find your sister don't enjoy
Noble the man of the present, that is free The rights by justice due;
from illusion and guile; You'll find it true that custom gives, Soothing the proffer of kindness, in an hour To man the higher place;
of misfortune and trial. That woman only strives, and lives
Robed in the mantle of glory, is the goddess of To perish in the race.
justice and right; When you grow up, my darling boy, Chased by the light of the morning, is the Admit the truth so plain,
darkness and gloom of the night. That woman's rights are to employ Onward humanity struggles, through the The products of her brain;
mist and the storm do they glide; To feast in banqueù balls of fame,
Tossed on the waves of the ocean, and then Beside her brother, man;
drifted ashore by the tide.
WE HAVE A LITTLE BABY. We have a little baby
To cheer our hearth and home, To fill our hearts with gladness,
· And cause us not to roam. Its eyes do glitter fondly
In sweet affection shine; We see the image plainly
Of beauty most divine. They hold a hidden magic
In every look and stare, Compelling pure devotion,
Unceasing love and care. We have a little baby
Our leisure to employ; It drives away all sorrow
And fills our lives with joy. The clouds have southly drifted,
The sky is bright and clear, Then comes the tiny tendril
To draw our hearts so near; And like the gentle zephyr
That woos the morning sun, It brings to us the emblem
Of heaven here begun.
With joy its cup to fill.
That filled our hearts with joy,
Our earnest thoughts employ. The thrill of bush and wildwood
Where youthful fancy played; The flowery paths of childhood
That led through dells of shade Were changed to paths when lovers
In fondest passion dream, Of secret joys that hovers
Where love doth reign supreme, Recall the fondest token
By early childhood earned The spell of years is broken
The sweets of knowledge learned.
We have a little baby
So sweet, so pure, so fair, To bear our name and fortune,
To drive away dull care. It is a little fairy,
Bedewed with winsome smiles, And 'neath its little dimples
We see its gleeful wiles. Just like the morning roses,
Just like the morning dove, It is a little blessing
To link our lives in love.
On the rose tinted flush of the scene,
And the beauty of springtide was green. When the future was shining with splendor,'
Not a cloud in the dome of the sky: And the pathway of youth was made tender
Though the driftwinds of sorrow were nigh. I have gazed on the moontide of life,
On the midday of withering heat;
And the feverish brow of defeat.
That ascend to the zenith of fame,
And I know that true Bliss is the aim. I have gazed on the ev’ning of life,
On the sweetness of calm and repose;
And the grandeur that living bestows.
'Round the tottering frame of old age, And the echoes of night are fast calling
Mother Nature has turned the last page. I have gazed on the sunset at last,
On the vision of crimson and gold — When the shade tints of ev'ning are past,
Then the beauties of Dawn will unfold. I have gazed on the casket containing
The remains of a dear one who's gone, And the symphonies sweet are refraining,
On the flight to the beauties beyond.
A DREAM OF CHILDHOOD.
My youthful days are gone,
Is past the gray of dawn.
So free from toil and care;
To every joy full sbare;
Of childhood's hopes and fears, Bring back the silver gleaming
Of early gleeful years. Resound those notes of laughter
That echoed through the air, Bring back these long years after
The joys that now are rare; Bring back the eager yearning
For river dale and hill, Where childish hope was burning
EXTRACT. Charming the maiden that snatches a rose
To pin on a lover's breast; Grand is the passion the heart only knows
When love is by love caressed.
LOCAL AND NATIONAL POETS OF AMERICA.
Dr. Smith also has two daughters living at the old homestead. The Doctor is still actively engaged in the practice of medicine, being now the oldest of his confreres at Vincennes.
HUBBARD M. SMITH, M. D.
BORN: WINCHESTER, KY., SEPT. 6, 1820. EARLY in life young Hubbard apprenticed himself to a saddler, and worked at that business until about twenty-one years of age. About this time he commenced the study of medicine, but did not practice until 1844. Two years later Mr. Smith married a friend of his youth; settling in Vincennes, Indiana, in 1849, where he has since resided. He has ever since been engaged in the practice of his profession, excepting about ten years in which he was engaged either in editing and publishing the Vincennes Gazette or acting as postmaster. Mr. Smith has filled many important posi
SONNETS – CUPID'S PLEA. Are matches made in heaven? Ah! no, not
all; For circumstance, and art, and mammon
Much of the pairing of the world, they who Mark not the fact are deaf to Cupid's call, Yet, when, contrariwise, some people seek
The course of nature's plan to overthrow,
Success may follow for awhile; but woe And sorrow afterward dire vengeance wreak. A monitor presides within the breast
Of every mortal, as a living soul, Restless, and vigilant, ande'er in quest
Of some congenial spirit to console The aching heart, and give its longings rest,
And nothing else its cravings will control. To farthest verge marked by the night and
day, Ere blighting sin the human race had
cursed, The heavenly orbs their courses run, as first Through space they started in their trackless
way. So, in accord with laws divinely made, When left to freely choose, all creatures
mate, And not by accident, which some call fate, And thus, through love, is Nature's voice
obeyed. Are laws which seem to govern earth and
heaven, Not made for man? Can he set them aside, When they for all creation's sum were given? Can he, through station, pomp or wealth,
or pride, Or fame, atone for pure affection riven,
That on Love's altar once was deified ? The wedding bells with silver tongues may
ring Their merry chimes, the ear to charm and
please, And riches bring with them luxurious ease; But, ah, too oft they leave a poignant sting Where naught but joy seemed only due; for
love Cannot be bought with gold; respect, at
best, Is all that mammon gains by rich behest Affection pure it cannot buy or move. Society, with artful charms may win With dazzling rays, but all its glamor
soon Wears off, as pleasures fade from gilded sin;
And even Fame the heart cannot attune,
HUBBARD M. SMITH, M. D. tions, including U.S. Pension Surgeon for twelve years; and now fills the office of trustee to the Presbyterian church and the university. His poetical compositions have been published in the leading periodicals of America. Mr. Smith is a member of several medical societies, and has contributed prose to the medical press and associations. He became one of the charter members of the Western Writers' association of Indiana, and has read several poems before that body. His sons have become well known as men of ability – one as a United States Consul; another as a musical composer; a third son as a commercial traveler; and the fourth son is successfully practicing law in Dallas, Texas.
When mated not by love, for naught within One answering chord sends back to prof
MATTHEW H. PETERS. BORN: RHENISH BAVARIA, JUNE 6, 1843. M. H. PETERS, the author of the following thoroughly American sentiment is by birth a German; was brought to this country when a babe and has grown up thoroughly imbued with the spirit of our institutions. He served
At the dawn of light,
To labor till
The bellows blow,
And the coals soon glow, Like the dazzling rays of the noon-day sun;
The huge sledge swings,
And the anvil rings
The sparks as bright,
As the meteor's light,
Whilst wreaths of smoke,
From the burning coke,
List! list, the peal,
As on the steel
Like clashing swords,
When army hordes Contending meet in deadly fight.
Though on his brow
The sweat stands now,
Since Heaven has said,
Man's daily bread
The world may sneer
And cast a leer,
But what cares he,
With a heart as free
'Tis not the shade
Of man, or trade,
But heart and mind,
Which stand behind,
No specters grim
Appear to him,
For in his mind
Sweet peace is shrined, And on his cheeks health's hue e'er glows.
As thus he toils,
Life's sad turmoils
For no thoughts rest
Within his breast, But those which hope and love bring there.
THE GOLDEN RULE. I ask not for myself a right
Which I to others would deny; With all mankind I'd share the light Nor would I rule by force of might,
But on the Golden Rule rely. bll men have their paternity
In common with their fellow men; Equality, fraternity,
Should rule the beart and guide the pen. And when this hallowed rule prevail Tyrants, crowns and kings shall fail, And man and woman equal born Shall stand erect that glorious morn And recognize the right of each To liberty of thought and speech.