Chapter I: WRITE here a name which I hope shall be known

To all of the ages which follow my own.
‘How conceited!’ you say; but my lines shall remain;
’Tis my hope, you’ll discover, not I, that is vain.

* * * * *

OUR lives are albums; each new day’s a page
As spotless as the leaf on which I write.
Whene’er those books of ours shall be read,
May few unwise inscriptions meet the sight.

* * * * *

ON the broad highway of action
Friends of worth are far and few;
But when one has proved her friendship,
Cling to her who clings to you.

* * * * *

WERE mine the power I’d twine for thee
A crown of jewels rare;
Each gem should be a kingdom,
Each pearl an humble prayer.

* * * * *

THERE are few friends in this wide world
That love is fond and true;
But ---- when you count them o’er
Place me among the few.

* * * * *

THERE is a small and simple flower
That twines around the humblest cot,
And in the sad and lonely hours
It whispers low: “Forget me not.”

* * * * *

WHEN asked in an album to write,
I feel quite inclined to refuse;
For what should I dare to indite
That would a young lady amuse?
Not wit, for I have none of that,
Nor romance—my fancy is tame;
And compliments sound so flat,
I’m forced to write merely my name.

* * * * *

MAY you always be happy,
And live at your ease;
Get a kind husband,
And do as you please.

* * * * *

TRUE friends, like ivy and the wall,
Both stand together or together fall.

* * * * *

BEAUTY is but a vain, a fleeting good,
A shining gloss that fadeth suddenly,
A flower that dies when almost in the bud,
A bright glass that breaketh suddenly;
A fleeting good, a glass, a gloss, a flower,
Lost, faded, broken, dead within the hour.

* * * * *

MAY happiness ever be thy lot,
Wherever thou shalt be;
And joy and pleasure light the spot
That may be home to thee.

* * * * *

HOW sweet to have a faithful friend,
In whom we can confide:
To bless us if we act aright,
And if we err to chide.

* * * * *

HOPE the best, get ready for the worst, and take what God sends.

* * * * *

BE content with the lot God has marked out for you. Love, honor and obey Him in all things, and your last days will be peaceful and happy.

* * * * *

MAY the morn of thy life be bright and joyous, the noontide peaceful and happy, and the sunset gloriously hopeful, is the wish of your friend.

* * * * *

LIFE, Death and Immortality—these three—the first, the Road—the second, the Gate. May you walk safely the first, pass triumphantly the second, and rest forever in the third.

* * * * *

MAY the Angels twine for thee
A wreath of immortality.

* * * * *

YES, ----, I will write my name
In here, as you request;
And, if to you its all the same,
I’ll add a line—though rather tame—
For Critics eyes, as my bequest.

My wishes and my hopes for you,
Find glad expression here;
Although, indeed, it’s very true,
There is no room for all that’s due
To one we hold so dear.

Good health—first wish of all—
Of all God’s gifts the best;
A happy heart, that loves to call
On Him who notes the sparrow’s fall
And promises sweet rest.

Although beset by worldly care,
Fix all your hopes on Heaven,
And view by faith the glories fair,
Which, in that world beyond the air,
To faithful ones are given.

* * * * *

ALTHOUGH I am advised not to write fast,
I hope the thought I would express may last.

* * * * *

YOU ask for your Album a rhyme;
With pleasure I hear and obey;
Refusal were folly or crime—
For who could to ---- say “nay?”

* * * * *

MAY Heaven on you its choicest blessings shower—
Is the sincere wish of your friend.

* * * * *

BE kind to all; be intimate with few;
And may the few be well chosen.

* * * * *

EVILS in the journey of life are like the hills which alarm travelers upon their road; they both appear great in the distance, but when we approach them, we find them far less insurmountable than we had conceived.

* * * * *

MISS ----! O Miss ----!
What can I write that’s new
Among so very many
Pretty compliments to you?
In poetry, I fear I’d fail—
I’m very sure I’d stammer—
You cannot drive the ponderous nail
With a small ten-cent tack hammer.
Since, then, so high I cannot soar,
Nor chirp notes like the lark,
Please cancel what I’ve said before,
I’ll simply make my mark.

* * * * *

IT has been beautifully said: The water that flows from a spring does not congeal in winter; and those sentiments which flow from the heart cannot be chilled by adversity.

* * * * *

ROSES, without thorns, for thee.

* * * * *

I’LL just write a few words here; so that when
You turn these and life’s pages o’er again,
Your memory back to the time will go,
When you and I were “O” and “Jo.”[1]

How we worked together in ’79,
Wafting lightning over the W. U. Line
To W. M.—called “our quod,” you know—
When you and I were “O” and “Jo.”

How Lu talked by the hour to us,
(And we stood it like martyr’s making no fuss),
How we used to get “snatched”—we hated that so—
When you and I signed “O” and “Jo.”

I’LL not wish you all sunshine; for life is made
Up of installments of sunlight and shade.
May you never be worse off through life, as you go,
Than when on W. M. wire we signed “O” and “Jo.”

Footnote 1:

Initials used by telegraph operators.

* * * * *

MAY the hinges of our Friendship never rust.

* * * * *

MAY your days in joy be passed
With friends to bless and cheer,
And each year exceed the last
In all that earth holds dear.

* * * * *

THERE’S many a trouble
Would break like a bubble,
And into the waters of Lethe depart,
Did not we rehearse it
And tenderly nurse it,
And give it a permanent place in the heart.
Resolve to be merry,
All worry to ferry,
Across the famed waters that bid us forget.
And no longer fearful,
But happy and cheerful,
We feel life has much that’s worth living for yet.

* * * * *

MAY we always remain as good friends as we are neighbors.

* * * * *

THE night has a thousand eyes;—
The day but one;
Yet the light of the whole world dies
With the setting sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes—
The day but one;
Yet the light of the whole world dies
When love is done.

* * * * *

ON this spotless page my pen essays to trace a record of affection; and, as I write, a wish is in my heart that, for thee, every life-leaf will be written with the golden pen of love.

* * * * *

THOUGH many friends have signed their names,
And some have left their mark,
I see a place for me remains
To add my small remark.
My wish for thee is: joy through life;
And bliss supreme, when some one’s wife.

* * * * *