Chapter IV: Part 4

A surgeon saw her cheerless state,
And deplored the poor child's fate,
She tried to make doll of her finger,
And sang to it poor little singer.

Her's indeed was an awful lot,
The weary days she spent in cot,
For the poor child she could not walk,
And it soon exhausted her to talk.

But surgeon bought her ribbon gay,
And with it she all day did play,
The giver often she did bless,
And thought sometimes she was princess.

For in it she did take such pride,
She fancied she was beauteous bride,
And was possessed of great riches,
Or thought herself a wealthy Duchess.

And she would bind it round her hair,
Imagining that she was fair.
But poor child feels that she must die,
She asks the surgeon to come nigh.

And kindly o'er her he doth stand,
She asked him for to take her hand,
Thanked him for ribbon green and blue,
Then evermore bade him adieu.

POETRY.

Poetry to us is given,
As stars beautify the Heaven,
Or, as the sunbeams when they gleam,
Sparkling so bright upon the stream,
And the poetry of motion
Is ship sailing o'er the ocean;
Or, when the bird doth graceful fly,
Seeming to float upon the sky,
For poetry is the pure cream,
And essence of the common theme.

Poetic thoughts the mind doth fill,
When on broad plain to view a hill,
On barren heath how it doth cheer,
To see in distance herd of deer,
And poetry breathes in each flower,
Nourished by the gentle shower,
In song of birds upon the trees,
And humming of busy bees,
'Tis solace for the ills of life,
A soothing of the jars and strife,
For poets feel 'tis a duty
To sing of both worth and beauty.

POWER OF LOVE.

Love it is the precious loom,
Whose shuttle weaves each tangled thread,
And works flowers of exquisite bloom,
Shedding their perfume where we tread.

HER LOVER'S STEP.

Step, step, step, 'tis her lover's walk,
She knows his step as well's his talk;
He is the favorite of her choice,
So his step's familiar as his voice.

Step, step, step, she now is wed,
And it is now her husband's tread;
His homeward step it cheers her life,
For she is a kind faithful wife.

But he the husband and yet lover,
His steps at last do cease forever;
And she doth soon hear the tread
Of men who do bear out the dead.

Her heart it now doth throb with pain,
Though she knows sorrow is but vain;
For him she never can recall,
And no more hear his footsteps fall.

But still she hopes he yet will come
And visit her in their old home;
But time approaches, she must die,
Her husband's footsteps she hears nigh.

Step, step, step, we ne'er shall part,
I hear the echo in my heart;
Now happiness dispels the gloom,
Radiant with joy my face doth bloom.

Pain and suffering all are past,
She joyous cried he's come at last;
And soon she breathes out her last breath,
He guides her through the vale of death.

THE USEFUL WEED.

Do not despise the humble weed,
For the Lord He first sowed the seed,
Perhaps it bears most precious fruit,
And useful leaves and potent root.

Though it seems now a useless weed,
Countless millions it yet may feed,
Or future ages it may prize,
Finding in it beauteous dyes.

Or a valued healing balm,
Will make the heated pulse beat calm,
And the future men of science,
May place on it strong reliance.

And it may play important part,
In advancing skill and art,
And no person now doth know
How useful are the weeds that grow.

Weeds we now look on with loathing,
They may yet be used for clothing,
Producing silken glossy coat,
Or paper fine for the bank note.

But you at present must take heed,
And do not grow the cumbrous weed,
Either in garden or in field,
Where plants with profit now do yield.

GOLDEN EGG.

In ancient times we have been told
A goose did lay an egg of gold,
She did produce one every day,
So regular this goose did lay.

But her stupid foolish master
Wanted her to lay them faster,
And he at last the goose did kill,
Gold grist no more came to his mill.

But a strange tale we now unfold,
In California's mines of gold,
There they keep both hens and chickens,
'Mong the gravel scratching pickings.

But hens do find the golden shiner,
Is too heavy for their dinner,
For it they cannot well digest,
As it lies solid in their breast.

Then they are slain and you behold
In their craw the shining gold,
Made up of particles so fine,
The purest gold in all the mine.

Then how happy is the miner,
When he has sweet fowl for dinner,
And he doth find within its craw,
A little golden bonanza.

And in Ontario the hen
Is worthy of the poet's pen,
For she doth well deserve the praise
Bestowed on her for her fine lays.

LITTLE DORA.

I tell you what my little Dora,
You do cause my heart to sorrow,
Tell me now you little misses
What you do with all your kisses.

I see you get them by the dozen
From each aunt and little cousin,
Said she I do intend dear pa
To give them all to you and ma.

And not a single one I'll miss,
But I will give you back each kiss,
And both of you will feel you're blest
When I pay you interest.

You'll better in my bank invest
And put my principle to test,
And you can dividend partake,
For my bank will never break.

LINES ON THE DEATH OF A FARMER'S WIFE.

This good woman when in this life,
She was kind mother and good wife,
And managed her household with care,
She and her husband happy pair.

And her name it will long be praised
By the large family she has raised,
She laid up treasures in the skies,
And now enjoys the Heavenly prize.

She rose each morn with happy smile,
And ardent all the day did toil,
For work it to her had a charm,
And busy was each hand and arm.

FIGHTING FOR HOME.

A hawk while soaring on the wing,
O'er a tiny sparkling spring,
Beheld a sleek and beauteous mink,
Was enjoying a bath and drink.

And though the hawk was bent on slaughter
The mink was more at home on water,
And it is strange this curious quarrel
All occurred in a sunk barrel.

In the Township of Nissouri,
There the hawk it came to sorrow,
But it strove often for to sink,
In vain it strove to drown the mink,

But mink it did successful balk,
All the attacks were made by hawk,
The bird was drenched, it could not fly,
And ne'er again it soared on high.

LINES WRITTEN IN A MENTAL ALBUM.

Where each one expressed some sentiment.

In this album you may trace,
If not the lineaments of face,
There at least you will find
Photographs of the mind.

Some in earnest some in fun,
Some do lecture some do pun,
Here the maiden and the youth,
Each proclaim some precious truth.

And there is here some fine pages,
Written by maturer ages,
Where they show that time is brief,
That soon comes sere and yellow leaf.

EVERY ROSE HATH ITS THORN.

There was a maiden all forlorn,
She loved a youth, his name was Thorn,
But he was shy for to disclose
How he loved dear the sweet May Rose.

Lustre sweet it would give to Thorn,
If this fair flower would it adorn,
Said he all other names above
Your charming name alone I love.

Said she of beauty 'tis soon shorn,
Unless that it is joined to Thorn,
It very soon doth droop and die,
And she heaved a gentle sigh.

Said he we'll wed to-morrow morn,
No more from me you shall be torn,
For you will banish all my woes,
And near my heart I'll wear the rose.

Now little rose buds they are born,
All clinging to the parent Thorn,
In grace and beauty each one grows,
Full worthy of the sweet May Rose.

Some flowers they only shed their bloom
In the sweet month of leafy June,
But May doth bloom each month in year
A fragrant Rose forever dear.

DANGER OF FIRE ARMS.

For to save life one great solver
Would be to prohibit the revolver,
Weapon of coward and of bully,
Who slaughter friends in their folly.

Let now no man or any boy,
With loaded arms ever toy,
Showing off their manly vigor,
Pointing to friend and pulling trigger.

And sending bullet through their brain,
And then exclaim in mournful strain,
When friends with grief they are goaded,
I did not know that it was loaded.

Fire arms oft' times do bring woes,
And they kill more friends than foes,
Hunting now o'er fertile fields,
'Tis seldom that it profit yields.

BIRD SENT BY PROVIDENCE.

A poor man stood beside his door,
His sad fate for to deplore,
For landlord's heart would not relent,
And seized his furniture for rent.

He hears song sweet as from fairy,
And soon he sees a canary,
Into his cage it did alight
And poured forth notes sweet and bright.

But owner of the bird did mourn,
And sadly longed for its return,
Without it she found no delight,
So she did landlord's bill requite.

The poor man thinks the bird was sent
By the Lord to pay up his rent,
And he now stout maintains from thence
That there is a kind Providence.

HELP IN NEED.

A poor man's horse it ran away,
Soon man upon the roadside lay,
With his leg all badly broken,
Of sympathy some gave token.

One said your trouble grieves my heart,
But with his money would not part,
Another said, while heaving sighs,
It brings the tears into mine eyes.

But a good true hearted man,
His heart with kindness it o'er ran,
The poorest man among the three,
A pound he did contribute free.

Others gave in empty feeling,
But this poor man he did bring healing,
The giver only Lord doth prize,
Who helps afflicted for to rise.

O FOR A LODGE.

"O for a lodge in some vast wilderness"
A man cried out in his distress,
For he was tired and sick of life,
And weary of this worldly strife,
And longed for to be far away
From the continuous daily fray.

But the fond partner of his life,
His own dearest, loving wife,
Those sentiments did not admire,
For fiercely they did rouse her ire,
Said she, I'll never let you budge
To go and join another lodge,
Your lodges take six nights each week,
And still another lodge you seek,
Continuous abroad you'll roam,
And never enter your own home.

A BIRD'S NEST.

An old man who had charge of field,
With pride he saw two birds did build,
A broad capacious warm nest,
So full of young with speckled breast,

And when the old man there did pass,
They soon ran merry 'mong the grass,
But of the youth they were so shy,
They made strong efforts for to fly.

Youths tried with old man to prevail,
To let them blaze away at quail,
But though they longed for a fat pot,
At them they never got a shot.

No more the old man doth them shield,
For they have flown to broader field,
Long may they spread their wings and tail,
And may no foe them 'ere assail.

LINES ON THE FINDING OF A YOUNG MAN'S BODY IN TORONTO BAY.

His identity was discovered by finding the maker's name on the suit he wore and by sending a strip of the cloth to the maker in Montreal.

A young man's body long it lay
In bottom of Toronto Bay,
But at last the waters bore,
And raised him up near to the shore.

But no one knew his rank or station,
No one knew his home or nation,
But his form and dress were genteel,
And sorrow many they did feel.

Kind man took charge of the remains,
And was well rewarded for his pains,
So skilful he did him embalm,
Restored the features sweet and calm.

The father came and he did bless
The man who did restore the face,
And saved for him his son's remains,
And thus he fame and honor gains.

LINES ON A LAWN PARTY.

Where it was announced ten days previous that the cereus would bloom, August, 1888.

We own we felt a little curious,
To see the rare night blooming cereus,
And as if 'twas divine anointed,
It came in bloom at the time appointed,
And gorgeous too their oleander,
None 'ere saw shrub blossom grander.

LINES ADDRESSED TO AN OLD BACHELOR.

In summer time we roam o'er dingle,
But winter draws us round the ingle,
Why do you remain thus single,
When love would make two hearts tingle,
Pray, tell me why my dearest wingle,
With the fair you do not mingle,
Better with love 'neath cot of shingle,
Than all your yellow gold to jingle.

For married life you would enjoy,
And soon a little girl and boy,
They would your leisure hours employ,
At Christmas you could buy each toy,
And fill their little hearts with joy,
For their amusements never cloy,
Business cares do men annoy,
Child's happiness knows no alloy.

LINES READ AT A LADIES' AID.

After chatting with each friend,
We our way to the table wend,
On it we all do make a raid,
And this we call a ladies' aid.

'Tis pleasant way of taking tea,
Improvement on the old soiree,
On such a time as this I find
Food for body and for mind.

Gladly all obey the call,
To attend this pleasant social,
And we hope none will lament
The time and money they have spent.

FEMALE REVENGE.

"Revenge is sweet, especially to women."--Byron.

I heard Bill say to-day, Mary,
That you are a charming fairy,
And that to town he'd give you drive,
But just as sure as you're alive,
He does intend to have the bliss,
Of stealing from your lips a kiss.

I'll let him drive me now, Jane,
His efforts they will all be vain,
I hate him, and I him defy,
And anger flashed from her eye,
The monster's wiles I will defeat,
Peck of strong onions I will eat.

LINES ON A TYPEWRITER.

Having received a letter from a gentleman glorying in his typewriter we replied as follows:

You glory in your typewriter,
And its virtues you rehearse,
But we prefer the old inditer,
For to write either prose or verse.

And let each man work his will,
But never never do abuse
The ancient and glorious quill
From the wing of a fine old goose.

ALL MEN ARE BROTHERS.

We are in ancient stories told,
All were brothers in days of old,
But these with facts they do not chime
For all mankind do love the dime,
And worship the mighty dollar,
And admire the golden collar,
The rich man's washed with whitest lime,
The poor man's cover'd o'er with slime,
But we should try to love each other
And treat each man as our brother.

THE GOOD MAN.

Cheerful and happy was his mood,
He to the poor was kind and good,
And he oft' times did find them food,
Also supplies of coal and wood,
He never spake a word was rude,
And cheer'd those did o'er sorrows brood,
He passed away not understood,
Because no poet in his lays
Had penned a sonnet in his praise,
'Tis sad, but such is world's ways.

Humorous.

LAY OF THE SPRING.

Let others sing their favourite lay,
From early morn till close of day,
More useful themes engage our pen,
We sing the lay of our good hen.

For she doth lay each morn an egg,
And it is full and large and big,
Abroad she doth never travel,
Happy she when scratching gravel.

And she loud cackles songs of praise
Every morn when e'er she lays,
Proud she is when she finds pickings
For to feed her brood of chickens.

It greatly puzzled her one day
When she found white nest egg of clay,
She knew some one did trick play her,
For she was no brick layer.

Vain and stately male bird stalks,
Leading his hens along the walks,
Proudly each feather in his tail
Makes rival roosters for to quail.

Our muse now soars on feathery wing,
And cheerful it doth hail the spring,
Bringing the sunshine and showers,
Green grass and buds and leafy bowers.

So pleasant is the month of May,
When bushes shoot out blooming spray,
'Ere spring we're tired of winter's white,
Spring's varied colours do delight.

HIGH IN MASONRY.

Give me a board so I can trace on
How high I have gone as a mason,
Said worker on true square cut stone
Unto some knights of good St. John.

Each one of them could trace with ease
The highest Masonic degrees,
Tell us how high then you have gone
They said to worker on cut stone.

Who said to their astonishment
To top of Washington monument,
I solemnly to you declare
And will swear to fact upon the square.

I there stood thirty-three degrees,
While the mercury did freeze,
And none of you will have desire
In masonry for to go higher.

Tales.

TRAMP AND FISH.

A hungry tramp did long for dish,
And he stole a big bunch of fish,
But he full soon did come to grief,
He was quick captured as a thief.

And brought before the magistrate,
So judge he would pronounce his fate,
Judge asked him how he came by fish,
The thief said for them he did wish,

The best fish ever came from brook,
I own, my Lord, I did them hook,
Said constable, he speaks what's true,
And you must give the devil his due.

Then judge did constable rebuke,
He owns fish if he did them hook,
He has not broken any clause
I know of in our fishery laws.

Unless you can show this reason,
He has hooked them out of season,
Your duty you have thus mistook,
For man had right the fish to hook.

Fishing here it is not treason,
Him you had no right to seize on,
And when the poor man did fish hook,
He had a right the same to cook.

SEAL FISHING AND HUNTING.

Where frosts doth northern bays congeal,
There you will find the finest seal,
They do pursue them o'er each bay
From early dawn till close of day.

The Indians display great zeal,
Engaged in hunting of the seal,
And ladies love for to display
Their seal furs from this famous bay.

Most precious of all furs is seal,
Their flesh is good as finest veal,
And the seal it is a squatter,
Lives on either land or water.

The Indian boys happy feel,
When they capture the young seal,
They do seem so happy ever,
Sailing o'er each bay and river.

They train them their canoes to tow,
And o'er the waters merry go,
Full quick to right or left they wheel,
Guided by reins the docile seal.

Like lad on colt without a saddle,
These youths use no oar nor paddle,
But swift o'er water rushes keel,
For 'tis propelled by the fast seal.

To Uncle Sam we do appeal,
How can you own the whole sea's seal,
And at the same time claim our cod,
If from the shore a mile abroad.

SNAKE AND ITS YOUNG.

There is a peculiar snake,
You might almost call it squatter,
It loves to dive in pond or lake,
At home on either land or water.

But it excited my good dog
To see small snakes bask in the sun,
Enjoying themselves on a big log,
Near into where the water run.

But their mother she was watching
Her numerous brood on the log,
She thought to them was danger hatching,
When she beheld myself and dog.

For she gave a hissing sound,
All her offspring to awake,
She ope'd her mouth and at a bound,
Down her throat did rush each snake.

I scarcely my own eyes could trust,
To see those small snakes disappear,
I really thought that she would burst,
For the sake of her offspring dear.

But I soon hid among the brakes,
To view the young ones leave their prison,
Will you believe this tale of snakes,
If I did count right just four dozen.

WHALE AND ITS FOES.

Six hundred miles north of Cape Flattery,
On sea there seemed a floating battery,
And stream of blood did dye the water,
Sailors wondered what was the matter.

But they soon saw a great sword fish
With its bayonet make a quick rush,
Into which proved to be large whale,
And thrasher too did it assail.

The whale dived deep to save its life,
But thrasher eager for the strife,
Knew whale must rise for to get breath,
Then it would thrash the whale to death.

At last the great whale it arose,
And in distress it spouts and blows,
In anger sweeps its mighty tail,
Defensive weapon of the whale.

But thrasher high in air did leap,
And fell on monster of the deep,
The sword fish then it did advance,
And assaulted it with its lance.

Thus united foes soon do prevail,
And quick there floated a dead whale,
The thrasher now victorious winner,
From off the whale expected dinner.

But ship's crew they secured the prize,
Whale bone and blubber monster size,
Others fought but they only reap,
The spoils of mammoth of the deep.

TIGER AND ELEPHANT.

On Ganges banks roams the tiger,
And lion rules by the Niger,
Hunter heard shrill cry of peacocks,
In Indian jungles go in flocks.

And he saw tiger crouch and spring,
To crush a bird with beauteous wing,
But the tiger missed his aim,
And he hung his head with shame.

Then there came a mighty crush,
Of elephants rush through the bush,
The tiger cat-like crouched on ground,
And elephants rushed in with bound.

In front was baby elephant,
To crush its bones did tiger want,
But mother saw fierce forest ranger,
And she gave a cry of danger.

Leader of herd he madly rushed,
Resolved the tiger should be crushed,
But tiger strove to run away,
Willing to relinquish prey.

But when he found that he must fight,
On elephant's back he strove to light,
But elephant struck him with his foot,
And then with tusks he did him root.

So now once more must praise be sung,
To beasts who nobly fight for young,
And grateful feelings were now stirred,
Towards the leader of the herd.

STRANGE LIFE PRESERVER.

A sailor he was swept from deck,
In minute he seem'd as a speck,
Tossing on each briny wave,
They feared the sea would be his grave.

Though they full quickly launched the boat,
They could not see where he did float,
He now was a long ways astern,
His whereabouts they could not learn.

But while he on the waves did toss,
He was seized by great Albatross,
Who had been looking round in quest
Of something whereon it could rest.[I]

It hover'd o'er him with its wings,
And its great webb feet on him clings,
And it tore him with its sharp beak,
For it was longing for some steak.

But sailor seized it by the throat,
And found with ease he then could float,
So sailor's life was saved by loss
Of the life of the Albatross.

The boat's crew found him none too soon,
For he had fallen into a swoon,
Him they would not have come across
Had they not seen the Albatross.

And thus poor Jack his life was saved,
For fierce rage of bird he braved,
Though in a faint he still did cling,
One arm round neck and one round wing.

For as a friend he did hug close
That fine large bird the Albatross,
Sailors row comrade back to ship,
Where he relates his wondrous trip.

Sailors fear that many a cross[J]
Will fall on crew kill Albatross,
This was slain in self defence,
And so no harm it came from thence.

"The lone Albatross incumbent on the air."

[I] According to E. A. Poe the Albatross sleeps in air.

[J] See Coleridge's Ancient Mariner for the calamity befell a crew for wantonly killing this bird.

VIRTUES OF A DIAMOND RING.

Of the strange virtues of a ring,
In simple strains we now will sing,
Brave warrior of ancient France,
Where danger was he did advance.

But he at last was struck by ball
And on the battle field did fall,
They dug for him a shallow grave
And slightly cover'd warrior brave.

But his servant man with warm heart,
Loathed with his master thus to part,
So he moved soil from where he lay
And found a lump of lifeless clay.

He turned away in sad despair,
That could not be his master fair,
That famed brave youth of noble birth,
Now all stained o'er with blood and earth.

As he begins to move away
The moon reflects on brilliant ray,
From diamond ring on dead man's finger
The servant now doth fondly linger.

For he knows it's his master's ring,
And hopes to life he may him bring,
In finger he discovers heat
And hopes his heart it still may beat.

Though surgeons they pronounce him dead,
For long he bathes his breast and head,
And slowly master did restore
To fight more brave than he had before.

And now this tale to close we bring,
Of warrior saved by a ring,
Full oft again to fight for king,
His praise his countrymen they sing.

CHILD SAVED BY DOG.

Johnston he is an engineer,
He always looks if track is clear,
For he hath a keen eagle eye,
Danger afar he doth espy.

And he hath too a warm true heart,
Of others woes he shares a part;
One day he gazed far down the line,
And a large dog he could define.

So eager busy on the track,
In mouth it seemed to lift a pack,
But it oftentimes did fail
For to raise it o'er the rail.

The engineer put on his steam
And he loud made his whistle scream,
So that the dog would take alarm
And thus preserve his life from harm.

This noble dog, it feared not danger,
Fear to him it was a stranger,
His mistress child he wished to save,
And all the danger he would brave.

His last great effort did prevail,
He raised it safe beyond the rail,
Into a snug and hollow spot,
A place seem'd formed for a child's cot.

This dog of noble mastiff breed,
For his own safety took no heed,
But at approaching train did bark,
To make them to his troubles hark.

The engineer did sad bewail,
To see the dog still on the rail,
A moment more the beast is slain,
Cut in two by the cruel train.

The engineer now shuts off steam
For to investigate the theme,
That caused the dog to die at post,
Finds to save child its life it lost.

Faithful in the cause of duty,
Saving life of little beauty,
A little darling three year old,
More precious than her weight in gold.

On track she wandered for to play,
But soon she in quiet slumber lay,
And all the efforts of old Towser,
Were not able to arouse her.

The mother now in agony wild,
Rushed down to train to find her child,
There she found it sweetly sleeping,
While some for faithful dog were weeping.

And a brave man was engineer,
For he himself knew not of fear,
But his heart was filled with pain,
Because the noble dog was slain.

LEACH THE ENGINEER.

The engineer who drives the train,
From scalds he oft doth suffer pain,
And they are more noble scars,
Than hirelings gain in foreign wars.

Our hero's name should live forever,
Train wrecked in Columbia River,
And fatal scalded was Frank Leach,
In mid the river far from beach.

Heroic deed it should be sung.
Though his flesh in ribbons hung,
He saw a man who could not swim,
And he resolved to rescue him.

And success his efforts crowned,
He saved the man from being drowned,
For him upon his back he bore,
And boldly swam with him to shore.

Heroic deed we now enroll,
And grave it deep on fame's scroll,
For this great truth we wish to teach,
High 'mong our heroes ranks Frank Leach.

When he had but short time to live,
His strength and skill he both did give,
His poor fellow man to save,
From laying in a watery grave.

The heroes oft in days of old,
Were those who hired to fight for gold,
But the true heroes we revere
Doth fight for home and country dear.

JACKAL AND CHILD.

In the great Province of Bengal,
The scavenger is the Jackal,
For it doth love each night to feast,
On the carrion of some beast.

The stench of which pollutes the air,
But to this beast 'tis sweet and fair,
Carcass to it is source of wealth,
Jackals promote the public health.

When the "Seapoys" did rebel,
A strange adventure child befell,
An English Colonel and his wife,
They thought still distant was the strife.

And left their little girl at home,
While they to distant village roam;
And thus saved their lives from slaughter,
But rebels carried off their daughter.

Their servant woman, a Hindoo,
They knew her to be kind and true,
It almost drove her crazy wild,
To see them dragging off the child.

The Colonel soon he doth return,
And in his breast fierce rage doth burn,
He knows the child is doomed to die,
But he the rebels will defy.

So quick he doth gird on his sword,
And asks for blessings from the Lord,
He puts his pistols in their case,
And carries with him trusty brace.

Seapoys by the river side
Left child to drown in rising tide,
But Jackal went there for water,
And spied the Colonel's daughter.

He knew the river soon would rise,
So quick he carried off the prize,
Though love for child he does not feel,
He only wants her for a meal.

He ran with her towards the south,
Carrying her in his broad mouth,
The Colonel had a strong desire
On this savage beast for to fire.

But from it he refrained for fear
The ball might strike his little dear,
He saw that brute was now weary
Running with his little dearie.

So he then quickly gave it chase,
And full soon then he gained the race,
The coward beast then dropped the child
And fled away in terror wild.

With joy Colonel he doth weep
When he finds babe is still asleep,
And on it neither scar nor trace
Can disfigure its fair face.

And now he takes it in his arms,
With joy and pride surveys its charms,
We fear that kisses did it smother
When he handed it to mother.

LITTLE HERO.

'Mong silver hills of Nevada
There is many a wild bravado,
Who oft indulge in lawless vice,
And there are pearls of great price.

Rough hearts, but true at the core,
There is the genuine silver ore,
But it needs skill of the refiner
To find pure gems in the miner.

Far from their home two children stray,
Among the mountains far away,
The eldest of these travellers bold,
Jack Smith he was but six years old.

So far poor children went abroad,
That both at last they lost their road,
But their good dog the trusty Rover,
By scent and search doth them discover.

Their friends they search for them in vain,
Dark night comes on and heavy rain;
And savage wolves around them howl,
But they fear Rover's bark and growl.

On the third day the searchers hark
For sounds and they hear Rover's bark,
Joyous that boys were alive,
And that though feeble they survive.

Miners they left their silver ore,
And for more precious pearls explore,
And when the children they discover,
'Tis unbounded then their pleasure.

The eldest little hero bold
Had stripped his coat to keep the cold
From little brother three years old,
A worthy deed should be extolled.

From home they were many a league,
And weak with hunger and fatigue,
Each clung upon a miner's back,
On their way home down mountain track.

GRAY HAIRS.

Once on a time a lady quarrelled
With the witty Douglass Jerrold,
Because that he had been so bold,
To hint that she was growing old.

She said her hair was dark 'till one day
She used an essence turned it gray,
O, yes, said he, tincture of time
Affects the hair in this our clime.

GOOD SHOT.

At great reunion of the South,
Of those had faced the cannon's mouth,
Where each could show a glorious scar
He had received in the war.

And there was an artillery major,
Said he, I am free to wager
I fired the best shot in the war,
And fame of it was heard afar.

The Federals fired at us a shell,
And near our battery it fell,
It gave us momentary alarm,
But it caused us little harm.

For the fuse it ceased to burn,
And I resolved shell to return
To the same spot from whence it came,
I put in fuse was sure to flame.

From mortar's mouth it went forth
Seeking for vengeance on the North,
And this swift messenger from South
It entered their great cannon's mouth.

And blew the gun all into atoms,
Which left desolate many homes,
But North had justice on her side.
In truth and virtue was her pride.

And high Heaven had well decreed
That the poor slave he should be freed,
And even the South doth prosper more
With freedom than she did before.

LOST SON FOUND.

An English ship when homeward bound,
Near to its port was shipwrecked found,
For it had struck a sunken rock,
And was slowly sinking from the shock.

In port they quick did man life boat,
Which o'er tempestuous sea did float,
They rescued all the crew, save one,
And were content with what they done.

But they had not their captain, Harry,
Who on the shore was forced to tarry,
And knew not of the disaster,
So crew had worked without a master.

But when he heard of the shipwreck,
And that a man was left on deck,
He quickly hurried the boat's crew
For to again attempt his rescue.

But earnestly his old mother,
Reminded him of his lost brother,
Perhaps drowned in foreign sea,
She cried, son, stay and comfort me.

But wreck they reach and rescue man,
And thrill of joy o'er city ran,
When it was found 'twas Harry's brother,
Had returned to comfort mother.

Thus providence rewards the brave
Who strive their fellow men to save,
The mother's griefs it did assuage,
And happy now is her old age.

SHOE BLACK.

Gent on sidewalk held out his foot
While boy in gutter brushed his boot,
But at this time, how sad, alas,
An unruly horse did o'er him pass.

The child for friends he sad did lack,
They said he was but a shoeblack,
Kind hearted man the poor child bore,
To a soft cot in back of store.

And brought from hospital ward
A skilful nurse the lad to guard,
She often listened for his breath,
As he was passing the vale of death.

But, poor child, once he ope'd his eyes,
And he looked round in great surprise,
Feebly he asked, heaving a sigh,
Where in the world now am I.

The tender nurse bent o'er his face,
And said, dear boy, you're in good place,
She asked his name, he said it was Tom,
And that for long he had no home.

And since his mother was stricken dead,
He had not once reposed in bed,
And while suffering child did rack,
He eagerly asked will mother come back.

The nurse she gently answered, no,
But, to your dear mother you can go,
In his last sleep he had a dream,
Shining up boots it was his theme.

He soon awoke and called out, mother,
I see you and little brother,
Christ, I know, has me forgiven,
For they are beckoning me to Heaven.

DUCK AND OYSTER.

Once on a time there lived a duck,
And by its fishing it did thrive;
So one day it longed to suck
An oyster and for one did dive.

The oyster near shore lay open,
The duck, its gizzard for to fill,
Resolved that he would pop in
Between the shells his sharp bill.

And then he would have glorious treat,
But oyster closed on it its shell,
And duck it got no oyster meat,
But worse than that the duck befell.

This oyster was so very large,
It held the duck's head under water,
And towed small oysters like a barge,
Each one clung to it like squatter.

Duck it died of too much moisture,
And it floated towards the beach,
And to its bill clung big oyster,
Sticking to it like a horse leach.

On the shore there stood a shyster,
Watching fat duck floating to him,
And the wondrous big oyster,
How fine it would be to stew them.

Alas the duck lost its dinner,
And at the same time lost its life,
But on it dined a hungry sinner,
Who did reap all the spoils of strife.

For when the duck to land did float,
It towed small oysters not a few,
For it sailed like to a boat,
With fat duck pie and oyster stew.

None can the poor duck's fate bewail,
For it reckoned without its host,
It strove for conquest and did fail,
Fighting for spoil it battle lost.

You see the wild duck did not know,
When it attacked the big oyster,
It had to fight a numerous foe,
Of these shell fish a whole cluster.

Borne feathers on briny billow,
They were full of springy down,
And they made a glorious pillow,
Where fellow he could rest his crown.

This chap he did not plow nor sow,
But from sea and land he did reap
The wealth that others caused to grow,
And thus he treasures up did heap.

BABY DARLING.

A miner in California mine,
For his distant home he did repine,
In a far off Eastern state,
Where did live his own dear mate.

And one great source of all his joy,
His little darling baby boy,
One night to drive his cares away
To concert hall his footsteps stray.

And loud resounding o'er the hall,
He heard a little boy squall,
The sweetest music he e'er heard,
Sweeter far than singing bird.

For his thoughts it caused to roam,
To his distant eastern home,
Near to the mine there were no trace
Of baby dear or woman's face.

When violinist with his bow
Did make exquisite music flow,
The miner he did loudly bawl
Stop fiddle and let baby squall.

My sad heart his cries doth cheer,
Reminding me of my own dear,
For sooner I would him behold,
Than if I found a mine of gold.

For what are all the joys of life,
So far away from child and wife,
But few more months I will stay here
Then join my wife and baby dear.

RIDING AN AVALANCHE.

With our Canadian snow shoes,
O'er snow you walk where'er you choose,
But on long shoes Norwegian
They are like narrow toboggan.

And all your movements you control
By the aid of a stout long pole,
With it you balance or propel
But we show now what once befell.

Two miners full of pluck and game,
Wished to locate a mining claim,
On a high steep mountain crest
In Colorado of the West.

Though snow was deep they would attempt
Their good mine for to pre-empt,
So up the mountain they do climb,
Covered o'er with snow and rime.

Norwegian shoes slide over the snow,
High and higher still they go,
One was two hundred yards ahead,
Till snow gives way where he doth tread.

Which quickly starts an avalanche,
He seizes on a stout tree branch,
But all in vain he rushes fast,
His snow shoes in the avalanche.

His friend on shoes Norwegian,
Like lightning down the hill he ran,
Or rather o'er the ice did glide
Down the long steep and glassy slide.

And after him the Avalanche,
Tearing up trees both root and branch,
The man on Avalanche doth yell
To his friend you are doing well.

With your shoes Norwegian,
Swifter than a toboggan,
Go on, go on, you'll win the race,
For we are slack'ning in our pace.

But, alas! poor runner feels
The Avalanche doth touch his heels,
Shall he be buried in the mass,
Or will the vast pile o'er him pass.

He stops quite sudden 'neath a rock,
It passed o'er him with mighty shock,
Though it did cause him great alarm,
Yet still he was all safe from harm.

The Avalanche yet downward slides,
And his friend on it he rides,
Until it safely him doth launch
On outer edge of his own ranch.

After three miles down the gulch,
They both might have been crushed to mulch,
The one he seemed to run a race,
While one on Avalanche did chase.

But it was not for bravado,
One rode, one run in Colorado,
For it was desperate the strife
Each had for to secure his life.

This tale of shoes Norwegian
Is not for the collegian,
But for such youths as do take pride
In reading of a wondrous slide.

FINAL ADDRESS TO OUR PATRONS.

To those who have so cheerfully subscribed for our poetic works at this early stage, and whose names have been obtained in this town, we feel ourselves deeply indebted, and it affords us great pleasure to record their names:--Dr. McKay, M.P.P.; Thomas Seldon, mayor; Joseph Gibson, postmaster; Dr. Williams, reeve; Walter Mills, Wm. Ewart, Thomas Brown, George Brown, Dr. Dickson, G. Alderson, William Watterworth, Dr. Canfield, James Smith, Peter Stuart, A. Grant, W. Partlo, Noxon Bros., Samuel, Stephen, T. H. and W. R. Noxon, C. E. Chadwick, J. A. Richardson, C. Simpson, James Brady, Peter Kennedy, M. T. Buchanan, W. A. Sudworth, C. Kennedy, H. Brooke, A. Pearson, John R. Warnock, Evans Piano Company, James Kirby, Dr. Carroll, Stephen King, D. Kerr & Co, W. Underwood, M. Walsh, J. S. Smith, W. McBain, James McKay, John Boles, J. E. Boles, J. C. Norsworthy, James Stevens, Angus McLeod, G. A. Turner, David White, James Sinclair, A. Murdoch, W. Woolson, William Dundass, James Badden, W. H. Jones, A. N. Christopher, G. A. Rose, L. Thompson, James Chambers, J. W. Marsden, Dr. Kester, A. D. Hoagg, W. C. Bell, F. Richardson, H. Richardson, John Morrow, O. E. Robinson, J. F. Morrey, W. Thompson, W. Gibson, G. H. Sharp, W. Hook, D. Secord, N. H. Bartley, W. Beckes, H. D. McCarty, John Ross, J. T. Malone, James H. Noe, L. Noe, G. Bloor, C. Bloor, T. H. Barraclough, T. F. Fawkes, J. Stephenson, J. H. Berry, Paul Berry, Hault Manufacturing Co., Dr. Walker, H. E. Robinson; T. H. Torren, W. Briden, John Birss, David Garlick, William Noxon, W. A. Knox, C. R. Patience, E. H. Hugill, J. A. Young, D. I. Sutherland, D. M. Sutherland, W. Thompson, R. McNiven, E. Livens, E. M. Walker, H. R. Cotton, D. W. Augustine, R. Gemmell, C. W. Waldron, J. W. Browett, R. H. Young, G. F. Clark, G. F. Mason, G. R. Thompson, W. A. Sinclair, W. Moore, James Kay, E. Caldwell, W. Davidson, G. McBurney, John Husband, R. A. Skinner.

Our dairy friends whose names appear on page 68 responded almost unanimous and the cheese buyers Messrs. Riley, Cook and Simister, manifested a similar spirit. To Podmore and Wilson of Grant & Co. we are also indebted. Several ex-wardens of the county are on our list, and James Sutherland, M.P., B. Hopkins, Gordon Cook, T. R. Mayberry, G. Walker, R. Wilson, J. C. Harris, W. Nancekivell, G. Chambers, R. Mayberry, Andrew Mitchell and J. H. Rowse, are among our country friends, and those prominent cheesemakers Ireland and Wooliever.

But as the printers are awaiting this sheet we must now close this list.

Now to our friends who proved so true,
We bid you for short time adieu.

Those who may wish to procure a copy of this book will receive one neatly bound in cloth, with postage prepaid thereon, by remitting us One Dollar.

JAMES McINTYRE,

Ingersoll, Canada.

Index.

PAGE.

Kind words From Friends, 4

Canada Before Confederation, 7

Canada's Future, 8

Birth of Canada as a Nation, 9

Welcome to the Prince of Wales, 10

Canada's Resources, 11

North-West Rebellion, 12

Big Bear the Indian Chief, 14

Laying Corner Stone of Brock's Tower, 15

Patriotic Ode, 16

Province of Ontario, 17

Canadian Rivers and Lakes, 20

United by Steel Rails, 21

Lorne and Louise, 23

Canadian Sports and Games, 24

Niagara Charms and Death of Webb, 26

Departed Canadian Statesmen, 27

The Old Snake Fence, 28

Canadian Voyageurs on the Nile, 29

Land Clearing, 30

Maple Sugar Making, 31

Canadian Romance, 32

Lament of the Maple Tree, 36

Life in the Woods, 39

Prairie Farming, 40

Canada Our Home, 41

Donald Ross, 43

Patriot Fighting for his Home, 44

Fighting for Conquest, 45

CANADIAN AUTHORS.

Mrs. Moody, 46

T. D. McGee, 47

George Menzies, 48

Thomas Conant, 48

R. F. Gourley, 49

A. McLaughlan, 49

ONTARIO SKETCHES.

South Ontario Sketches, 50

Holland River and its Tributaries, 51

St. Catharines, 53

Brantford, 54

Thorold, 55

St. Thomas, 56

Galt and Dunlop, 57

Tilsonburg, 57

Port Stanley, 58

Port Burwell, 58

The Banks of Canadian Thames, 59

The River Thames, 60

London Flood, 60

Loss of Steamer Victoria, 61

Woodstock, 62

Ingersoll, 63

Embro, 63

Beachville, 64

Stratford, 64

Thamesford, 65

DAIRY SKETCHES.

Cheese Pioneers, 67

Cheese Factories and Salesmen, 68

Father Ranney, 69

Mammoth Cheese, 71

Lines Read at a Dairyman's Supper. 72

Hints to Cheese Makers, 73

Fertile Lands and Great Cheese, 74

Dairymaid's Social, 74

Salford Home of the Cheese, 75

Oxford Cheese Ode, 76

Windmills and Stone Stables, 77

Dairy Ode, 78

Cheese Curd for Bait, 80

CANADIAN SKETCHES.

Thanksgiving Ode, 82

Agricultural Implements, 83

When to Sell Grain, 84

Four Acre Farm, 85

Harvest Home Festival, 86

Corner Stone Laying, 87

Credit Valley Trip, 88

Eagle and Salmon, 89

Captain's Adventure, 90

Indian Romance, 92

Canadian Hunter, 93

Fight With a Bear, 94

Origin of the Toboggan, 95

Bear and Falls, 97

Broken Raft Adventure, 99

Buffalo and Wolves, 100

Bear Hunt, 102

Coon Hunting, 103

Sailor's Yarn, 105

Hunters and Trappers, 106

Wild Goose Shot, 108

Adventures With Bears, 109

BRITISH ODES.

Queen's Jubilee, 112

Wars in Victoria's Reign, 113

Crimean War, 115

Indian Mutiny, 115

Bear and Whale, 116

Gordon and Burnaby, 117

ENGLISH POETS.

Shakespeare, 118

Milton, 119

Coleridge, Southey & Wordsworth, 120

Shelly, 120

Byron, 120

Tennyson, 121

Dryden and Pope, 121

POETS AND PHILOSOPHERS.

Bacon, Hogg, Lamb & Shakespeare, 122

IRISH POETS.

Moor, 123

Oliver Goldsmith, 124

SCOTTISH POETS.

Burns, 125

Burns and Scott, 126

South of Scotland, 126

Scottish Poets, 127

James Hogg, 128

Highland Sketches, 129

Shires on the Moray Frith, 131

Lines Read at Embro, 132

St. Andrew's Celebration, 133

Dick and Edward, 134

Castle Gordon, 134

Prince Charlie's Grandsons, 135

St. Andrew, 136

River Clyde, 137

Elf Shot, 138

Hallowe'en, 139

AMERICAN POETS.

Longfellow, Poe, Lowell, 140

Bryant, Whittier, Saxe, 141

Carleton, Millar, Holmes, Whitman, 142

Lofty Actors Withdraw, 142

United States, 143

Caledonia Springs, 144

LOCAL SKETCHES.

Victoria Park and Games, 145

Ingersoll Fire, 145

Masonic Lines, 146

Oddfellowship, 147

Advice to a Little Girl, 148

In Memoriam, 149

Providential Escape, 150

MORAL AND REFLECTIVE.

Brain Engravings, 152

Survival of the Fittest, 153

Judge by Merit, 154

Gates Ajar, 155

Child Made Happy, 156

Poetry, 157

Power of Love, 157

Her Lover's Step, 158

The Useful Weed, 159

Golden Egg, 160

Little Dora, 161

Lines on the Death of a Good Woman, 161

Fighting for Home, 162

Mental Album, 162

Every Rose Hath Its Thorn, 163

Danger of Fire Arms, 164

Kind Providence, 164

Help in Need, 165

O For a Lodge, 165

Bird's Nest, 166

Remains Found in Toronto Bay, 166

A Lawn Party, 167

Address to a Bachelor, 167

Lines Read at a Ladies' Aid, 168

Female Revenge, 168

A Typewriter, 169

TALES, HUMOROUS AND SERIOUS.

Lay of the Spring, 170

High in Masonry, 171

Tramp and Fish, 172

Seal Hunting, 173

Snake and Her Young, 174

Whale and its Foes, 175

Tiger and Elephant, 176

Strange Life Preserver, 177

Virtues of a Diamond Ring, 178

Child Saved by Dog, 180

Leach the Engineer, 182

Jackal and Child, 183

Little Hero, 185

Gray Hairs, 186

Good Shot, 187

Lost Son Found, 188

Shoeblack's Sad Fate, 189

Duck and Oyster, 190

Baby Darling, 192

Riding an Avalanche, 193

Final Address to Our Patrons, 195

Transcriber's Notes

No changes were made, unless noted.

Page 6
(And you'r a poet yet.) A short version for you're.

Page 27 and 60
(Mingling with St. Lawrance motion,). Spelling as shown. St. Lawrence
in other poems.

Page 38
(when we used the smooth plain.). Possible typo for plane.

Page 47
(D Arcy McGee,). May be D'Arcy.

Page 81
(Which had grown from the seed). Changed whih to which.

Page 85
(But none e're fell in love with Ruth,). Perhaps e'er rather than
e're.
('Tis seldom she e're feels alarm,). Same.

Page 89
(Wilmot of fish culutre fame,). Possible typo for culture.

Page 120
(The brilliant, pasionate Byron.). Possible typo for passionate.

Page 140
(His wierd, wonderful romances). May be weird.

Page 144
(Where fish are propogate by Green,). Possibly propagate.

Page 169
(glorying in his typewriter). Changed typewiter to typewriter.

End of Project Gutenberg's Poems of James McIntyre, by James McIntyre

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