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EMERSON C. HOUSTON, M. D. Will she in the ball, when my footsteps she
hears, BORN: FRIENDSHIP, ME., FEB. 17, 1831. Be waiting and watching for me? AFTER attending the Oxford Academy, Mr.
My venerable father who loved me before Houston studied medicine at Cleveland, O.
My tongue learned a sentence to frame! Dr. Houston has written about two hundred
Gave his last blessing to me at the door, poems, many of which have appeared under
And tenderly uttered my name -
Will every dear friend who expect me to-night EMERSON COLEMAN HOUSTON, M. D.
Be waiting and watching for me? a nom de plume. The title of his longest poem is Fountain Dell, a romance in twelve A STORM ON THE PRAIRIES. cantos. Dr. Houston follows his profession
EXTRACT. of physician and surgeon at Fullerton, Neb.,
'Twas a wild, dark night, and the dreary blast where he resides with his wife and family.
Came howling over the prairies vast;
For the storm king came in his icy car,
O'er the Arctic sea, from the polar star, Sweet home of my childhood I greet thee with Like a demon sent from the shades of death
To congeal the heart with his frozen breath. tears, How blest were the hours at the hearth! 'Twas a sudden change, when we bade adieu Restrospective views of those innocent years To the garden city, and glad withdrew Show my happiest moments on earth.
From the busy street, pav'd white with snow, My heart glows at sight of the old house at Every heart was light, as the bounding roe. home
Then the engine shriek'd out a shrill'farewell, And throbs like the waves of the sea; Our laugh rang clear as a golden bell. Will anyone thinking, “I wish he would
We had come from where the Atlantic waves come,"
Have a land that never was curs'd by slaves; Be waiting and watching for me?
And one from the State of the evergreen My fond heart received its first lesson of love pine, From a kind mother's eloquent kiss;
Where the hundred lakes" in her lap Nor do I believe even angels above
recline, Could have tasted more exquisite bliss. Who had bathed in Mansfield's o'erhanging The crystalline tears of my infantile years
cloud, Were tenderly soothed on her knee,
Climb’d Alleghany and the Alpines proud.
THOMAS MOORE COLEMAN.
BORN: PARKE CO., IND., MAY 15, 1830. IN 1852 Mr. Coleman removed to Glendon, Iowa, wbere he has resided ever since. For nine years he was a member of the county
Real treasures last ever, will give us real joy, That nothing can sever, that nothing can
Thy never take wings (cloy, And leave us alone-they give sweeter relief, Are much better than gold, for never a thief
Can rob us or bring
They give us no sting. A good deed or kind word, a generous thought,
(sought Is worth more than money, had better be
Than silver or gold.
He sorbid and old,
Is poor with his gold.
(throne. With the beggar as well as th' king on his
The real is unsought. And those jewels that shine as stars in the
skies, By most are considered too unworthy to prize
Not giving one thought,
In which evil is sought.
fade, So that when gold and fame and wealth have decayed,
I shall have treasures in Heaven. For though you should have all the baubles of earth
[birth. With these only you are poorer at death than
Your happiness riven
For all you have given.
Then blessings will come. And light to your pathway though earth be
dreary, With Jesus for a guide, loving and cheery.
Though trials do come,
But will safely reach home. There safely housed beyond mortality's shore,
[more Where sickness and sorrow can reach us no
And death none can sever; [bliss, There with our loved ones in perfection of In a beautiful world brighter than this.
To leave it never,
REAL TREASURES. How often men fret over losses they feel, And think they are heavy and stagger and reel,
And many times fall: When nothing worth having or keeping is
lost. Like a ship in a storm they're driven and tossed,
For nothing at all,
Exceedingly small. 'Tis not the real loss that worry us most, Many times out of our casket jewels are lost,
And we notice it not.
While anger is hot;
GEORGE BUTLER GRIFFIN.
BORN: NEW YORK CITY, SEPT. 8, 1840. AFTER receiving his education at Columbia College, Mr. Griffin studied engineering. After working at that profession for several years he returned to his native state, studied law and was admitted to the bar in 1860. For a time he was employed as a historical writer
That fuly wreathe thy brow's swart tint,
in the Bancroft Library. He has held several prominent positions as civil engineer, and was chief of staff to James B. Eads while getting a concession for a ship railway across the isthmus iu Mexico. Mr. Griffin has traveled extensively in Europe as well as in North and South America, and is a profound classic, English, Spanish and French scholar, and a thorough historian. He is first vice-president of the Historical Society of Southern California, of which he was a founder. Mr. Griffin has a pleasant home in Los Angeles, with a botanical garden filled with exotics and plants rare and curious. He has collected a choice and excellently selected library of more than three thousand volumes. His eldest daughter, Eva, is developing a remarkable talent for sculpture, and has inodeled some very fine busts from life, and the portrait of Mr. Griffin, here given, was taken from a bust modeled by her.
A CRADLE SONG. Far out in the glowing west
The laughing waves of the sea, As the sun sinks to his rest,
For a kiss leap merrily: And the mocking-bird's low strain From the tree-tops come again –
So sleep, my baby, sleep. The flowers in the garden beds,
Like the children, are at prayer, And their vesper odor spreade
As a benediction there; While the night-wind's tender sigh Is my darling's lullaby –
So sleep, my baby, sleep. Now the gentle harvest moon
Climbs in the brightening east, And the stars come one by one,
Afloat 'mid the silvery mist – Angel wards, a watch to keep O'er all little ones asleep
So sleep, my baby, sleep.
A GOLDEN-WEDDING-DAY SONG.
Seemed to glow:
As the snow.
LOS ANGELES. O queen of all the summer lands, White-gleaming 'mid the ebon bands
THOMAS ALDIN CRABTREE.
BORN: FRANKLIN, ME., MARCH 17, 1830. At the age of twenty-three Mr. Crabtree commenced teaching school. He is now en
THOMAS ALDIN CRABTREE. gaged in evangelistic work and lecturing on temperance, and resides in Bangor, Maine.
Just then, the sun, low in the west,
MY OLD, OLD HOME.
LEGEND OF MT. DESERT.
I'm Chief Conaught; there's none so great,
My trusty arrow, and my bow,
His writhing form I'll laugh to see,
MRS. JULIA CLARKE CHASE.
BORN: NEOSHO, Wis., APRIL 9, 1856. JULIA and her youngest sister, Medora Clarke published a volume of poems called Driftwood; these ladies are well known in western literary circles as the Sister Poets of Wisconsin. At the age of twenty-iwo Miss Julia was married to Lieut. Geo. N. Chase of
DESPOILED Down in the dust and the grime and the heat, Cruelly flung there to die in the street, Lies a wood-violet tender and sweet. Who in his selfishness bore thee away, Frightened and silent one ominous day, Only to leave thee droop and decay? No one will cherish thee now, broken flow'r, Recklessly torn from thine æstival bow'r Only to pleasure some eye for an hour. Up at her window a maiden I see Looking regretfully down upon thee, Feeling thy fate and her own to agree. Innocent blossom and innocent maid, Torn from the woodland, the fragrance and
shade, Thrust in the filth of the city to fade.
NIL ANXIETAS. I've lived a life of summer hours Amid the butterflies and flowers; Alike the sunshine and the rain Seem tuned to pleasure's sweet refrain, My heart is always light and free, The days so glad and bright to me. Why should I brood o'er future ill The while for me the gods distill The sweets of life, in flowing draught, As pure as mortal ever quaffed? No, let my fate be what it may, I'll drink the nectar of to-day, No echo of a minor key Shall haunt me with a melody To hush the music of my soul; The seasons, in their onward roll, Sball grant the only boon I ask, Within the rays of love to bask, A life sincere to live and die Without one bitter tear or sigh.
MRS. JULIA CLARKE CHASE. the U. S. A., who for the last four years has been aide de camp on Gen. Howard's staff. Mrs. Chase has lived in Milwaukee, Chicago, New York City and San Francisco, and has constantly contributed to the press of those cities. She has bad but one child, Thorington Clarke, born in 1879, who won the West Point class cup of '87, and who promises to be a fine violinist. Mrs. Julia Clarke Chase has written about one thousand poems, besides a great deal of prose, stories and sketches for children. Several of her longer poems have won the bighest praise from J. G. Holland, P. D. Aldrich and literary critics, and have received extensive publication in the press. She numbers among her ancestors Samuel Huntington, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, and Theodore Grace Greenwood, Richard Henry Stoddard, James G. Clarke, and other literary stars of the present day. Mrs. Clarke's residence in future will be Los Angeles, Cal.
LITTLE JACK. A winter day hung o'er the earth And filled our childish hearts with mirth,
For on the newly fallen snow,
The sunbeams lay like gems aglow. Along the lake shore by the mill, We children coasted on the hill,
Aud with our voices full of glee,
We woke the echoes glad and free. My heart was full of selfish pride, As down the long bill's sunny side,
With merry shout I gayly sped,
Upon my brightly painted sled.
Oh, Harry! let me have a ride?”