Caxton's Book: A Collection of Essays, Poems, Tales, and Sketches Part 27

_THE ENROBING OF LIBERTY._

The war-drum was silent, the cannon was mute, The sword in its scabbard lay still, And battle had gathered the last autumn fruit That crimson-dyed river and rill, When a G.o.ddess came down from her mansion on high, To gladden the world with her smile, Leaving only her robes in the realm of the sky, That their sheen might no mortal beguile.

As she lit on the earth she was welcomed by Peace, Twin sisters in Eden of yore-- But parted forever when fetter-bound Greece Drove her exiled and chained from her sh.o.r.e; Never since had the angel of Liberty trod In virginal beauty below; But, chased from the earth, she had mounted to G.o.d, Despoiled of her raiment of snow.

Our sires gathered round her, entranced by her smile, Remembering the footprints of old She had graven on grottoes, in Scio's sweet Isle, Ere the doom of fair Athens was told.

"I am naked," she cried; "I am homeless on earth; Kings, Princes, and Lords are my foes, But I stand undismayed, though an orphan by birth, And condemned to the region of snows."

"Hail, Liberty! hail"--our fathers exclaim-- "To the glorious land of the West!

With a diadem bright we will honor thy name, And enthrone thee America's guest; We will found a great nation and call it thine own, And erect here an altar to thee, Where millions shall kneel at the foot of thy throne And swear to forever be free!"

Then each brought a vestment her form to enrobe, And screen her fair face from the sun, And thus she stood forth as the Queen of the globe When the work of our Fathers was done.

A circlet of stars round her temples they wove, That gleamed like Orion's bright band, And an emblem of power, the eagle of Jove, They perched like a bolt in her hand; On her forehead, a scroll that contained but a line Was written in letters of light, That our great "Const.i.tution" forever might shine, A sun to illumine the night.

Her feet were incased in broad sandals of gold, That riches might spring in her train; While a warrior's casque, with its visor uproll'd, Protected her tresses and brain; Round her waist a bright girdle of satin was bound, Formed of colors so blended and true, That when as a banner the scarf was unwound, It floated the "Red, White and Blue."

Then Liberty calm, leant on Washington's arm, And spoke in prophetical strain: "Columbia's proud hills I will shelter from ills, Whilst her valleys and mountains remain; But palsied the hand that would pillage the band Of sisterhood stars in my crown, And death to the knave whose sword would enslave, By striking your great charter down.

"Your eagle shall soar this western world o'er, And carry the sound of my name, Till monarchs shall quake and its confines forsake, If true to your ancestral fame!

Your banner shall gleam like the polar star's beam, To guide through rebellion's Red sea, And in battle 'twill wave, both to conquer and save, If borne by the hands of the free!"

[Decoration]

[Decoration]

XXV.

_A CAKE OF SOAP._

I stood at my washstand, one bright sunny morn, And gazed through the blinds at the upbringing corn, And mourn'd that my summers were pa.s.sing away, Like the dew on the meadow that morning in May.

I seized, for an instant, the Iris-hued soap, That glowed in the dish, like an emblem of hope, And said to myself, as I melted its snows, "The longer I use it, the lesser it grows."

For life, in its morn, is full freighted and gay, And fair as the rainbow when clouds float away; Sweet-scented and useful, it sheds its perfume, Till wasted or blasted, it melts in the tomb.

Thus day after day, whilst we lather and scrub, Time wasteth and blasteth with many a rub, Till thinner and thinner, the soap wears away, And age hands us over to dust and decay.

Oh Bessie! dear Bess! as I dream of thee now, With the spice in thy breath, and the bloom on thy brow, To a cake of pure Lubin thy life I compare, So fragrant, so fragile, and so debonair!

But fortune was fickle, and labor was vain, And want overtook us, with grief in its train, Till, worn out by troubles, death came in the blast; But _thy_ kisses, like Lubin's, were sweet to the last!

[Decoration]

XXVI.

_THE SUMMERFIELD CASE._

The following additional particulars, as sequel to the Summerfield homicide, have been furnished by an Auburn correspondent:

MR. EDITOR: The remarkable confession of the late Leonidas Parker, which appeared in your issue of the 13th ultimo, has given rise to a series of disturbances in this neighborhood, which, for romantic interest and downright depravity, have seldom been surpa.s.sed, even in California. Before proceeding to relate in detail the late transactions, allow me to remark that the wonderful narrative of Parker excited throughout this county sentiments of the most profound and contradictory character. I, for one, halted between two opinions--horror and incredulity; and nothing but subsequent events could have fully satisfied me of the unquestionable veracity of your San Francisco correspondent, and the scientific authenticity of the facts related.

The doubt with which the story was at first received in this community--and which found utterance in a burlesque article in an obscure country journal, the Stars and Stripes, of Auburn--has finally been dispelled and we find ourselves forced to admit that we stand even now in the presence of the most alarming fate. Too much credit cannot be awarded to our worthy coroner for the prompt.i.tude of his action, and we trust that the Governor of the State will not be less efficient in the discharge of his duty.

[Since the above letter was written the following proclamation has been issued.--P. J.]

PROCLAMATION OF THE GOVERNOR.

=$10,000 REWARD!=

DEPARTMENT OF STATE.

By virtue of the authority in me vested, I do hereby offer the above reward of ten thousand dollars, in gold coin of the United States, for the Arrest of Bartholomew Graham, familiarly known as Black Bart. Said Graham is accused of the murder of C. P. Gillson, late of Auburn, county of Placer, on the 14th ultimo. He is five feet ten inches and a half in height, thick set, has a mustache sprinkled with gray, grizzled hair, clear blue eyes, walks stooping, and served in the late civil war under Price and Quantrell, in the Confederate army. He may be lurking in some of the mining-camps near the foot-hills, as he was a Washoe teamster during the Comstock excitement. The above reward will be paid for him, _dead or alive_, as he possessed himself of an important secret by robbing the body of the late Gregory Summerfield.

By the Governor: H. G. NICHOLSON, Secretary of State.

Given at Sacramento, this the fifth day of June, 1871.

Our correspondent continues:

I am sorry to say that Sheriff Higgins has not been so active in the discharge of his duty as the urgency of the case required, but he is perhaps excusable on account of the criminal interference of the editor above alluded to. But I am detaining you from more important matters. Your Sat.u.r.day's paper reached here at 4 o'clock, Sat.u.r.day, 13th May, and, as it now appears from the evidence taken before the coroner, several persons left Auburn on the same errand, but without any previous conference. Two of these were named respectively Charles P. Gillson and Bartholomew Graham, or, as he was usually called, "Black Bart." Gillson kept a saloon at the corner of p.r.i.c.kly Ash Street and the Old Spring Road; and Black Bart was in the employ of Conrad & Co., keepers of the Norfolk livery stable. Gillson was a son-in-law of ex-Governor Roberts, of Iowa, and leaves a wife and two children to mourn his untimely end. As for Graham, nothing certain is known of his antecedents. It is said that he was engaged in the late robbery of Wells & Fargo's express at Grizzly Bend, and that he was an habitual gambler. Only one thing about him is certainly well known: he was a lieutenant in the Confederate army, and served under General Price and the outlaw Quantrell. He was a man originally of fine education, plausible manners and good family; but strong drink seems early in life to have overmastered him, and left him but a wreck of himself. But he was not incapable of generous, or rather, romantic, acts; for, during the burning of the Putnam House, in this town, last summer, he rescued two ladies from the flames. In so doing he scorched his left hand so seriously as to contract the tendons of two fingers, and this very scar may lead to his apprehension. There is no doubt about his utter desperation of character, and, if taken at all, it will probably be not alive.

So much for the persons concerned in the tragedy at the Flat.

Herewith I inclose copies of the testimony of the witnesses examined before the coroner's jury, together with the statement of Gillson, taken _in articulo mortis_:

DEPOSITION OF DOLLIE ADAMS.

STATE OF CALIFORNIA, } ss.

County of Placer. }

Said witness, being duly sworn, deposed as follows, to wit: My name is Dollie Adams; my age forty-seven years; I am the wife of Frank G. Adams, of this township, and reside on the North Fork of the American River, below Cape Horn, on Thompson's Flat; about one o'clock P. M., May 14, 1871, I left the cabin to gather wood to cook dinner for my husband and the hands at work for him on the claim; the trees are mostly cut away from the bottom, and I had to climb some distance up the mountain side before I could get enough to kindle the fire; I had gone about five hundred yards from the cabin, and was searching for small sticks of fallen timber, when I thought I heard some one groan, as if in pain; I paused and listened; the groaning became more distinct, and I started at once for the place whence the sounds proceeded; about ten steps off I discovered the man whose remains lie there (pointing to the deceased), sitting up, with his back against a big rock; he looked so pale that I thought him already dead, but he continued to moan until I reached his side; hearing me approach, he opened his eyes, and begged me, "For G.o.d's sake, give me a drop of water!" I asked him, "What is the matter?" He replied, "I am shot in the back." "Dangerously?" I demanded. "Fatally!" he faltered. Without waiting to question him further, I returned to the cabin, told Zenie--my daughter--what I had seen, and sent her off on a run for the men. Taking with me a gourd of water, some milk and bread--for I thought the poor gentleman might be hungry and weak, as well as wounded--I hurried back to his side, where I remained until "father"--as we all call my husband--came with the men. We removed him as gently as we could to the cabin; then sent for Dr. Liebner, and nursed him until he died, yesterday, just at sunset.

Question by the Coroner: Did you hear his statement, taken down by the a.s.sistant District Attorney?--A. I did.