The Emigrant Mechanic and Other Tales in Verse Part 18

Oh, where can I be flying For strength and succor now?

If there were hope in dying, I soon to death would bow.

But now my duty strongly Bids me my task fulfil; Thy family suffered wrongly, To right them I've the will.

And then I would be leaving Each bitter scene of woe, Haply my loss retrieving, If that can be below.

Thou wert to me oft speaking Of G.o.d's sweet place of Rest, I would that place be seeking, To be with thee most blest.

Farewell, my young life's charmer, A long, a last farewell; I feel my heart grow warmer As on thy love I dwell.

Calls he HUMBLEWORTH aside, Speaks to him with faltering tongue: "Father's sin I dare not hide; Me he bade before he died, Soon redress your grievous wrong.

"He destroyed your uncle's _will_, When you were a little boy, And did not his part fulfil As your proper guardian still, Losing peace of mind and joy.

"I'm prepared to give a _deed_ To you of that large estate, But I strongly intercede For my mother in her need, In her sad affliction great."

"My dear friend," the good man said, "Let some time now pa.s.s away.

I am not of you afraid, His command you have obeyed, Let us talk some other day.

"Go, my boy, and cheer the heart Of your mother, still my friend; See, I bid you now depart, Lest delay increase her smart; I will soon to it attend.

"Learn to place in Christ your trust; Seek for pardon through His blood.

G.o.d alone can keep you just, For we are at best but dust; Naught have we ourselves of good."

WILLIAM hastens to the Hall With a somewhat easier mind.

Fearing that it might appal Mother's heart, he tells not all That befel their friends so kind.

Now an inquest has been held O'er AMELIA'S corpse so fair, Tears have from their fountains welled, Grief immoderate has been quelled, Which has brought of peace a share.

Now arrangements have been made Suiting all who are concerned.

HUMBLEWORTHS such love displayed, As proved all that I have said, Showing in whose school they learned.

To the Hall, as theirs of right, All the family removed; And they strove with all their might To make the widow's burden light, For she was by them, beloved.

As a.s.sistant on the farm WILLIAM proved of greatest use.

With a heart both young and warm, He soon found that ANNIE'S charm For lost time was some excuse.

Why should I prolong this tale?

All my object may divine.

Christian love will still prevail O'er its foes when they a.s.sail, And it will forever shine.

MY GARDEN

I have a little garden plot, 'Tis very small indeed; But yet it is a pleasant spot, And plenty large enough, I wot, When out-door work I need.

Two woodbines flourish at my door, And climb above its porch; One yields of grateful scent a store, One flowers till all the summer's o'er And winter days approach.

And o'er the walls grape vines are spread, Which bring delicious fruit; These also sweetest odors shed, And please my senses till I'm led To hold them in repute.

And then I have of peach trees three, Which have begun to bear, And 'tis a pleasing sight to see My somewhat numerous family All eager for a share.

Three apple trees I next would name, Though fruit they ne'er gave me; For this their tender age I blame, And other cause I cannot name, And so I wait to see.

Some berry trees I also boast, And these of different kinds.

Of flowering shrubs I have a host, Which did in cash and labor cost What might affright some minds.

Four kinds of lilac here are grown, One double flowering cherry, And weeping _ditto_, not much known; Eight different sorts of rose I own, And shrub that yields _s...o...b..rry_.

Of lily yea, and crocus, too, I've some varieties, And monkshood, pinks, and violets blue, Of double almonds not a few, With two kinds of peonies.

Some polyanthus and foxglove, Sea-pinks, and columbine, Sweet-scented tulips, which I love, Whose beauty has e'en power to move A heart less fond than mine.

The daisy and sunflower tall, Present a contrast great; One like to him who, proud in soul, Expects his fellow men to fall Submissive at his feet.

The other, like true modesty, Scarce lifts its lovely head Lest you its secret charms should see-- Just like a lovely maid, when she Is to vain-glory dead.

Sweet-briar and sweet-william claim A notice from my pen, For each of these can boast of fame;-- Are better known than my poor name Among the race of men.

My hollyhocks and lichens fine, Spread out their charms to view, And other pretty flowers are mine-- To speak whose praises I incline, If but their names I knew.

Of annuals I have but few, That fact I fully grant; Yet I have larkspur, pink and blue, And double poppies of rich hue.

To serve me while the summer's new I've beds of rhubarb plant.

Some household herbs and fragrant thyme, With lettuce, sage, and mint, Complete my stock; but had I time A lingering lesson swells my rhyme With many a moral hint.

That as we rear in summer's glow.

Herbs, fruits and flowerets fair, So may we in our natures grow Sweet flowers that may hereafter blow In Heaven's serener air.

The Inebriate's Daughter's Appeal to Her Father.

One frosty night in bright moonlight, I left my cheerful home; My thoughts were such I cared not much Which way I chanced to roam.

With firmest tread my way I thread Through many a winding street When drunkard's voice in tones not choice, My startled ear did meet.

He cursed a girl whose hair in curl Bespoke a tidy mother; Whose clothes, though plain, wore not a stain, Yet grief her words did smother Her beauteous eyes told then no lies While she looked at the man.

As nature brought the words she sought, She this appeal began:

"Oh, father, leave this wretched place, And hasten home with me; For mother and the darling babe Are in sad misery!

They have not tasted any food Since morn of yesterday.

Yet you should hear that mother dear For blessings on you pray.