Chapter I: KNEW a man who died in days of yore,

To whom no monument is like to rise;
And yet there never lived a mortal more
Deserving of a shaft to pierce the skies.

His chiefest wish strong friendships was to make;
He cared but little for this poor world's pelf;
He shared his joys with every one who'd take,
And kept his sorrows strictly to himself.

_IN FEBRUARY DAYS_

FAIR Nature, like the mother of a wayward child
Who needs must chide the offspring of her heart,
Disguiseth for a season all the sweet and mild
Maternal softness for an austere part.

And 'neath her frown the errant earth in winter seems
Prostrate to lie, and petulant of mood;
Restrained in icy fetters all the babbling streams,
Like naughty babes who're learning to be good.

Then, in this second month, most motherlike again,
The frown assumed gives now and then a place
To soft indulgent glances, lessening the pain,
And hints of spring and pardon light her face.

_A CHANGE OF AMBITION_

HORATIUS at the bridge, and he
Who fought at old Thermopylae;

Great Samson and his potent bone
By which the Philistines were slone;

Small David with his wondrous aim
That did for him of giant frame;

J. Caesar in his Gallic scraps
That made him lord of other chaps;

Sweet William, called the Conqueror,
Who made the Briton sick of war;

King Hal the Fifth, who nobly fought
And thrashed the foe at Agincourt;

Old Bonaparte, and Washington,
And Frederick, and Wellington,

Decatur, Nelson, Fighting Joe,
And Farragut, and Grant, and, oh,

A thousand other heroes I
Have wished I were in days gone by--

Can take their laurels from my door,
For I don't want 'em any more.

The truth will out; it can't be hid;
The doughty deed that Dewey did,

In that far distant Spanish sea,
Is really good enough for me.

The grammar's bad, but, O my son,
I wish I'd did what Dewey done!

_MESSAGE FROM MAHATMAS_

ONSET BAY, MASSACHUSETTS, _May 24, 18--._--Theosophists and
others at Onset Bay Camp Grounds have been greatly excited of
late by a message which has been received from the Mahatmas,
Koot Hoomi, and his partner, who are summering in the desert of
Gobi. The message is of considerable length, and contains much
that is purely personal.--_Daily Newspaper_.

SOUND the timbrel, beat the drum!
Word from the Mahatma's come.
Straight from Hoomi Koot & Co.
Comes the note to us below,
Full of joy and gossiping.
Hoomi Koot is summering
In the desert waste of Gobi,
In a cottage of adobe.
All the little Koots are well.
Tommy Koot has learned to spell.
Mrs. Koot is busy on
Papers on "The Great Anon,"
Which by special cable soon,
From her workshop in the moon,
Will be sent to us below
By grand Hoomi Koot & Co.

We are told that Maggie Koot
Looks well in her golfing suit;
And her brand-new Astral Bike
Is the best they've seen this cike--
Cike is slang for cycle, so
I have learned from Koot & Co.
Soon she's going to take a run
Out from Gobi to the sun,
After which she thinks to race
For the Championship of Space,
And a trophy given by
The Grand High Pasupati.

Baby Koot has learned to walk,
And likewise, 'tis said, to talk;
But, to Mrs. Koot's dismay,
Seems to have a funny way:
Full of questions, "Why and How,"
All about the sacred cow.
Questions of a flippant ilk,
Like "Is Buddha made of milk?"
Questions void of answers spite
Of his parents' second sight.
What to do with Baby Koot
Worries all the whole cahoot.

Finally the message ends
With best love to all our friends.
Give our enemies a twist.
Let each true theoso-fist
Strike a thunder-hitting blow
For the firm of Koot & Co.;
Strike till black is every eye
Doubting our theosophy.
And impress on every tribe
_Now's the season to subscribe._
Guard against the coming storm;
Keep our astral bodies warm.
Give us bonnets for the head;
Keep our spirit stomachs fed.
Let your glad remittance go
Out to Hoomi Koot & Co.,
Through their Agents on the earth,
Men and women full of worth;
And when next a message comes
From the Koots down to their chums,
Those who've paid their money down
Will receive a harp and crown.

Step up lively! now's the time
For your nickel and your dime,
To provide for winter suits
For the grand Mahatma Koots.
Furthermore, be not too brash,
Send it up in solid cash.
Astral money, it may be,
Circulates in theory;
But 'tis best to give us cold,
Bilious, drossy, filthy gold.

All our blessings to you go.
Yours, for health,
H. Koots & Co.

_THE GOLD-SEEKERS_

GOLD, gold, gold!
What care we for hunger and cold?
What care we for the moil and strife,
Or the thousands of foes to health and life,
When there's gold for the mighty, and gold for the meek,
And gold for whoever shall dare to seek?
Untold
Is the gold;
And it lies in the reach of the man that's bold:
In the hands of the man who dares to face
The death in the blast, that blows apace;
That withers the leaves on the forest tree;
That fetters with ice all the northern sea;
That chills all the green on the fair earth's breast,
And as certainly kills as the un-stayed pest.
It lies in the hands of the man who'd sell
His hold on his life for an ice-bound hell.
What care we for the fevered brain
That's filled with ravings and thoughts insane,
So long as we hold
In our hands the gold?--
The glistening, glittering, ghastly gold
That comes at the end of the hunger and cold;
That comes at the end of the awful thirst;
That comes through the pain and torture accurst
Of limbs that are racked and minds o'erthrown,
The gold lies there and is all our own,
Be we mighty or meek,
If we do but seek.
For the hunger is sweet and the cold is fair
To the man whose riches are past compare;
And the o'erthrown mind is as good as sane,
And a joy to the limbs is the racking pain,
If the gold is there.
And they say, if you fail, in your dying day
All the tears, all the troubles, are wiped away
By the fever-thought of your shattered mind
That a cruel world has at last grown kind;
That your hands o'errun with the clinking gold,
With nuggets of weight and of worth untold,
And your vacant eyes
Gloat o'er the riches of Paradise!

_ODE TO A POLITICIAN_

ALL hail to thee, O son of AEolus!
All hail to thee, most high Borean lord!
The lineal descendant of the Winds art thou.
Child of the Cyclone,
Cousin to the Hurricane,
Tornado's twin,
All hail!
The zephyrs of the balmy south
Do greet thee;
The eastern winds, great Boston's pride,
In manner osculate caress thy massive cheek;
Freeze onto thee,
And at thy word throw off congealment
And take on a soft caloric mood;
And from afar,
From Afric's strand,
Siroccan greetings come to thee!
The monsoon and simoom,
In the soft empurpled Orient,
At mention of thy name
Doff all the hats of Heathendom!
And all combined in one vast aggregation,
Cry out hail, hail, thrice hail to thee,
Who after years, and centuries, and cycles e'en,
Hast made the winds incarnate!
To thee
The visible expression in the flesh,
Material and tangible,
Of all that goes to make the element
That rages, blusters, blasts, and blows!
And if the poet's mind speaks true,
If he can penetrate their purposes at all,
It is not far from their intent
To lift thee on their broad November wings
So high
That none but gods can ever hope
Again to gaze upon thy face!

_SOME ARE AMATEURS_

SHAKESPEARE was partly wrong--the world's a stage,
This is admitted by the bard's detractors.
Had William seen some Hamlets of this age
He'd not have called _all_ men upon it actors.

LITTLE BOOKS
BY FAMOUS WRITERS

THE FIRST CHRISTMAS (From "Ben-Hur")
_By Lew. Wallace_

THE STORY OF THE OTHER WISE MAN
_By Henry van Dyke_

TWO GENTLEMEN OF KENTUCKY
_By James Lane Allen_

EPISODES IN VAN BIBBER'S LIFE
_By Richard Harding Davis_

GOOD FOR THE SOUL
_By Margaret Deland_

EVELINA'S GARDEN
_By Mary E. Wilkins_

COBWEBS FROM A LIBRARY CORNER (Verses)
_By John Kendrick Bangs_

THE WOMAN'S EXCHANGE
_By Ruth McEnery Stuart_

THE CAPTURED DREAM
_By Octave Thanet_

STORIES OF PEACE AND WAR
_By Frederic Remington_

Uniform with this Volume--with Frontispiece
_Fifty Cents a Volume_

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NEW YORK AND LONDON

[Pointing hand] _Any of the above works will be sent by mail,
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Mexico, on receipt of the price._

Transcriber's note: Words originally in Greek are set off by
equal signs like so: =agapo=.