the heavenly host came out to meet them: to whom it was said, by the
other two Shining Ones, "These are the men that have loved our Lord
when they were in the world, and that have left all for His holy name;
and He hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on
their desired journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer in
the face with joy."
Then the heavenly host gave a great shout saying, "Blessed are they
which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb." There came out
also at this time to meet them, several of the king's trumpeters,
clothed in white and shining raiment, who, with melodious noises, and
loud, made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These trumpeters
saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes from the
world; and this they did with shouting and sound of trumpet.
This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before,
some behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left (as it were
to guard them through the upper regions), continually sounding as they
went, with melodious noise, in notes on high; so that the very sight
was to them that could behold it as if heaven itself was come down to
meet them. Thus, therefore, they walked on together; and as they
walked, ever and anon, these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would,
by mixing their music with looks and gestures, still signify to
Christian and his brother how welcome they were into their company, and
with what gladness they came to meet them.
And now were these two men, as it were, in heaven, before they came at
it, being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with hearing of
their melodious notes. Here also they had the City itself in view, and
they thought they heard all the bells therein to ring to welcome them
thereto. But above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had
about their own dwelling there, with such company, and that for ever
and ever. Oh, by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be
expressed! And thus they came up to the gate.
Now, when they were come up to the gate, there was written over it in
letters of gold, "Blessed are they that do His commandments, that they
may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates
into the City."
Then I saw in my dream that the Shining Men bid them call at the gate;
the which, when they did, some looked from over the gate, to-wit,
Enoch, Moses and Elijah, etc., to whom it was said, "These pilgrims are
come from the City of Destruction, for the love that they bear to the
King of this place;" and then the pilgrims gave in unto them each man
his certificate, which they had received in the beginning; those,
therefore, were carried in to the King, who, when he had read them,
said, "Where are the men?"
To whom it was answered, "They are standing without the gate."
The King then commanded to open the gate, "That the righteous nation,"
said he, "which keepeth the truth may enter in."
Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate: and lo,
as they entered, they were transfigured, and they had raiment put on
that shone like gold. There were also that met them with harps and
crowns, and gave them to them--the harps to praise withal, and the
crowns in token of honor.
Then I heard in my dream that all the bells in the city rang again for
joy, and that it was said unto them, _"Enter ye into the joy of your
Lord."_
I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice,
saying, _"Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto Him that
sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever."_
Now, just as the gate were opened to let in the men, I looked in after
them, and, behold, the City shone like the sun; the streets also were
paved with gold, and in them walked many men, with crowns on their
heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal.
There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another
without intermission, saying, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord." And after
that they shut up the gates; which, when I had seen, I wished myself
among them.
AWAY
[Footnote: From _Afterichiles_, by James Whitcomb Riley, copyright
1887.]
_By_ JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
I cannot say, and I will not say,
That he is dead.--He is just away!
With a cheery smile and a wave of the hand,
He has wandered into an unknown land,
And left us dreaming how very fair
It needs must be, since he lingers there.
And you--oh you, who the wildest yearn
For the old-time step and the glad return,--
Think of him faring on, as dear
In the love of There as the love of Here;
And loyal still, as he gave the blows
Of his warrior strength to his country's foes.--
Mild and gentle, as he was brave,--
When the sweetest love of his life he gave
To simple things;--Where the violets grew
Pure as the eyes they were likened to,
The touches of his hand have strayed
As reverently as his lips have prayed:
When the little brown thrush that harshly chirred
Was dear to him as the mocking-bird;
And he pitied as much as a man in pain
A writhing honey-bee wet with rain.--
Think of him still as the same, I say;
He is not dead--he is just away!
LITTLE GIFFIN OF TENNESSEE
Out of the focal and foremost fire,
Out of the hospital walls as dire,
Smitten of grape-shot and gangrene--
Eighteenth battle and he sixteen--
Spectre such as you seldom see,
Little Giffin of Tennessee.
"Take him and welcome," the surgeon said,
"But much your doctor can help the dead!"
And so we took him and brought him where
The balm was sweet on the summer air;
And we laid him down on a lonesome bed,
Utter Lazarus, heels to head.
Weary war with bated breath!
Skeleton Boy against skeleton Death!
Months of torture, how many such!
Weary weeks of the stick and crutch!
And still the glint of the steel-blue eye
Told of a spirit that wouldn't die,
And didn't--nay more, in Death's despite
The crippled skeleton learned to write.
"Dear Mother," at first, of course, and then,
"Dear Captain," asking about the men.
Captain's answer, "Of eighty and five,
Giffin and I are still alive."
"Johnston's pressed at the front," they say--
Little Giffin was up and away.
A tear, the first, as he bade good-bye,
Dimmed the glint of his steel-blue eye.
"I'll write, if spared."--There was news of fight,
But none of Giffin--he didn't write.
I sometimes fancy that when I'm king,
And my gallant courtiers form a ring,
Each so careless of power and pelf,
Each so thoughtful for all but self,
I'd give the best on his bended knee--
Yes, barter them all, for the loyalty
Of Little Giffin of Tennessee.
LITTLE BREECHES
A PIKE COUNTY VIEW OF SPECIAL PROVIDENCE
By JOHN HAY
[Footnote: John Hay was born in Indiana, and in 1861 became the law-
partner of Abraham Lincoln, and for the greater part of the time
during the latter's life as president of the United States, acted as
his private secretary. After the War he held various political offices
and was an editorial Writer on the New York Tribune. He became known
for his unusual tact and foresight, and finally became secretary of
state.
He is well known, too, for his writings, the most notable of which is
his _Abraham Lincoln_, which was written in company with John G Nicolay.
Besides this he wrote a number of humorous poems, of which _Little
Breeches_ is perhaps the best known.]
I don't go much on religion,
I never ain't had no show;
But I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir,
On the handful o' things I know.
I don't pan out on the prophets
And free-will, and that sort of thing,--
But I b'lieve in God and the angels,
Ever sence one night last spring.
[Illustration: Went team, Little Breeches, and all]
I come into town with some turnips,
And my little Gabe come along,--
No four-year-old in the country
Could beat him for pretty and strong,
Peart and chipper and sassy,
Always ready to swear and fight,--
And I'd larnt him ter chaw terbacker,
Jest to keep his milk-teeth white.
The snow come down like a blanket
As I passed by Taggart's store;
I went in for a jug of molasses
And left the team at the door.
They scared at something and started,--
I heard one little squall,
And hell-to-split over the prairie
Went team, Little Breeches and all.
Hell-to-split over the prairie!
I was almost froze with skeer;
But we rousted up some torches,
And sarched for 'em far and near.
At last we struck hosses and wagon,
Snowed under a soft white mound,
Upsot, dead beat,--but of little Gabe
No hide nor hair was found.
And here all hope soured on me
Of my fellow-critter's aid,--
I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones,
Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed.
* * * * *
By this, the torches was played out,
And me and Isrul Parr
Went off for some wood to a sheepfold
That he said was somewhar thar.
We found it at last, and a little shed
Where they shut up the lambs at night.
We looked in, and seen them huddled thar,
So warm and sleepy and white;
And THAR sot Little Breeches and chirped,
As peart as ever you see,
"I want a chaw of terbacker,
And that's what's the matter of me."
How did he git thar? Angels.
He could never have walked in that storm.
They jest scooped down and toted him
To whar it was safe and warm.
And I think that saving a little child,
And bringing him to his own,
Is a derned sight better business
Than loafing around the Throne.
This little poem is an imitation of what was the rude dialect of some
parts of Pike County, Indiana. One must not be too critical of the
roughness and the apparent irreverence of some of the lines, for the
sentiment is a pleasing one. An ignorant man who believes in "God and
the angels" may be forgiven for the crudity of his ideas, and the
mistakes he makes in bringing up his boy, especially as he "never ain't
had no show."
THE YARN OF THE "NANCY BELL"
_By_ W. S. GILBERT
'Twas on the shores that round our coasts
From Deal to Ramsgate span,
That I found alone, on a piece of stone,
An elderly naval man.
His hair was weedy, his beard was long,
And weedy and long was he;
And I heard this wight on the shore recite,
In a singular minor key:--
"O, I am a cook and a captain bold,
And the mate of the Nancy brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig."
And he shook his fists and he tore his hair
Till I really felt afraid,
For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking,
And so I simply said:--
"O elderly man, it's little I know
Of the duties of men of the sea,
And I'll eat my hand if I understand
How you can possibly be
"At once a cook and a captain bold,
And the mate of the Nancy brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig!"
Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which
Is a trick all seamen larn,
And having got rid of a thumping quid
He spun this painful yarn:--
"'Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell
That we sailed to the Indian sea,
And there on a reef we come to grief,
Which has often occurred to me.
"And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned
(There was seventy-seven o' soul);
And only ten of the Nancy's men
Said 'Here' to the muster-roll.
"There was me, and the cook, and the captain bold,
And the mate of the Nancy brig,
And a bo'sun tight and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig.
"For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink,
Till a hungry we did feel,
So we drawed a lot, and, accordin', shot
The captain for our meal.
"The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate,
And a delicate dish he made;
Then our appetite with the midshipmite
We seven survivors stayed.
"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight,
And he much resembled pig;
Then we wittled free, did the cook and me.
On the crew of the captain's gig.
[Illustration: "FOR DON'T YOU SEE THAT YOU CAN'T COOK ME?"]
"Then only the cook and me was left,
And the delicate question, 'Which
Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose,
And we argued it out as such.
"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,
And the cook he worshipped me;
But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed
In the other chap's hold, you see.
"'I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says Tom.
'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be.
I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I;
And 'Exactly so,' quoth he.
"Say he: 'Dear James, to murder me
Were a foolish thing to do,
For don't you see that you can't cook me,
While I can--and will--cook you?'
"So he boils the water, and takes the salt
And the pepper in portions true
(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot,
And some sage and, parsley too.
"'Come here,' says he, with proper pride,
Which his smiling features tell;
"'Twill soothing be if I let you see
How extremely nice you'll smell.'
"And he stirred it round, and round, and round,
And he sniffed at the foaming froth;
When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals
In the scum of the boiling broth.
"And I eat that cook in a week or less,
And as I eating be
The last of his chops, why I almost drops,
For a wessel in sight I see.
* * * * *
"And I never larf, and I never smile,
And I never lark nor play;
But I sit and croak, and a single joke
I have--which is to say:
"O, I am a cook and a captain bold
And the mate of the Nancy brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig!"
KATEY'S LETTER
_By_ LADY DUFFERIN
Och, girls, did you ever hear
I wrote my love a letter?
And altho' he cannot read,
I thought 'twas all the better.
For why should be he puzzled
With spellin' in the matter,
When the _manin'_ was so plain
I loved him faithfully,
And he knows it--oh, he knows it--
Without one word from me.
I wrote it, and I folded it,
And put a seal upon it,
'Twas a seal almost as big
As the crown of my best bonnet;
For I wouldn't have the postman
Make his remarks upon it,
As I'd said _inside_ the letter
I loved him faithfully,
And he knows it--oh, he knows it--
Without one word from me.
My heart was full, but when I wrote
I dare not put the half in;
For the neighbors know I love him,
And they're mighty found of chaffin',
So I dare not write his name _outside_,
For fear they would be laughin',
But wrote, "From little Kate to one
Whom she loves faithfully,"
And he knows it--oh, he knows it--
Without one word from me.
Now, girls, would you believe it,
That postman so _consated_,
No answer will he bring me,
So long have I waited?
But maybe--there mayn't be one,
Because--as I have stated--
My love can neither read nor write,
But he loves me faithfully,
And I know, where'er my love is,
That he is true to me.
THE ARICKARA INDIANS
[Footnote: This description is taken from. Irving's _Astoria_, an
account of early explorations in the Northwest, undertaken under the
management of John Jacob Astor.]
_By_ WASHINGTON IRVING
The village of the Rikaras, [Footnote: The Arickaras, or Rees as they
are now sometimes called, are reduced to a few hundred persons who are,
with the Mandans and other Indians, on a reservation in North Dakota.]
Arickaras, or Ricarees, for the name is thus variously written, is
between the 46th and 47th parallels of north latitude, and fourteen
hundred and thirty miles above the mouth of the Missouri. [Footnote:
This would place the village somewhere near the present site of
Bismarck, North Dakota.] The party reached it about ten o'clock in the
morning, but landed on the opposite side of the river, where they
spread out their baggage and effects to dry. From hence they commanded
an excellent view of the village. It was divided into two portions,
about eighty yards apart, being inhabited by two distinct bands. The
whole extended about three quarters of a mile along the river bank, and
was composed of conical lodges, that looked like so many small
hillocks, being wooden frames intertwined with osier, and covered with
earth. The plain beyond the village swept up into hills of considerable
height, but the whole country was nearly destitute of trees.
While they were regarding the village, they beheld a singular fleet
coming down the river. It consisted of a number of canoes, each made of
a single buffalo hide stretched on sticks, so as to form a kind of
circular trough. Each one was navigated by a single squaw, who knelt in
the bottom and paddled, towing after her frail bark a bundle of
floating wood intended for firing. This kind of canoe is in frequent
use among the Indians; the buffalo hide being readily made up into a
bundle and transported on horseback; it is very serviceable in
conveying baggage across the rivers.
The great numbers of horses grazing around the village, and scattered
over the neighboring hills and valleys, bespoke the equestrian habits
of the Arickaras, who are admirable horsemen. Indeed, in the number of
his horses consists the wealth of an Indian of the prairies; who
resembles an Arab in his passion for this noble animal, and in his
adroitness in the management of it.
After a time, the voice of the sovereign chief, "the Left-handed," was
heard across the river, announcing that the council lodge was preparing
and inviting the white men to come over. The river was half a mile in
width, yet every word uttered by the chieftain was heard; this may be
partly attributed to the distinct manner in which every syllable of the
compound words in the Indian language is articulated and accented; but
in truth, a savage warrior might often rival Achilles himself for force
of lungs.
The explorers landed amid a rabble crowd, and were received on the bank
by the left-handed chief, who conducted them into the village with
grave courtesy; driving to the right and left the swarms of old squaws,
imp-like boys, and vagabond dogs, with which the place abounded. They
wound their way between the cabins, which looked like dirt-heaps
huddled together without any plan, and surrounded by old palisades; all
filthy in the extreme, and redolent of villainous smells.
At length they arrived at the council lodge. It was somewhat spacious,
and formed of four forked trunks of trees placed upright, supporting
crossbeams and a frame of poles interwoven with osiers, and the whole
covered with earth. A hole sunken in the centre formed the fireplace,
and immediately above was a circular hole in the apex of the lodge, to
let out the smoke and let in the daylight. Around the lodge were
recesses for sleeping, like the berths on board ships, screened from
view by curtains of dressed skins. At the upper end of the lodge was a
kind of hunting and warlike trophy, consisting of two buffalo heads
garishly painted, surmounted by shields, bows, quivers of arrows, and
other weapons.
On entering the lodge the chief pointed to mats or cushions which had
been placed around for the strangers, and on which they seated
themselves, while he placed himself on a kind of stool. An old man then
came forward with the pipe of peace or good-fellowship, lighted and
handed it to the chief, and then falling back, squatted himself near
the door. The pipe was passed from mouth to mouth, each one taking a
whiff, which is equivalent to the inviolable pledge of faith, of taking
salt together among the ancient Britons. The chief then made a sign to
the old pipe-bearer, who seemed to fill, likewise, the station of
herald, seneschal, and public crier, for he ascended to the top of the
lodge to make proclamation. Here he took his post beside the aperture
for the emission of smoke and the admission of light; the chief
dictated from within what he was to proclaim, and he bawled it forth
with a force of lungs that resounded over all the village. In this way
he summoned the warriors and great men to council; every now and then
reporting progress to his chief through the hole in the roof.
In a little while the braves and sages began to enter one by one as
their names were called or announced, emerging from under the buffalo
robe suspended over the entrance instead of a door, stalking across the
lodge to the skins placed on the floor, and crouching down on them in
silence. In this way twenty entered and took their seats, forming an
assemblage worthy of the pencil; for the Arickaras are a noble race of
men, large and well formed, and maintain a savage grandeur and gravity
of demeanor in their solemn ceremonials.
All being seated, the old seneschal prepared the pipe of ceremony or
council, and having lit it, handed it to the chief. He inhaled the
sacred smoke, gave a puff upward to the heaven, then downward to the
earth, then toward the east; after this it was as usual passed from
mouth to mouth, each holding it respectfully until his neighbor had
taken several whiffs; and now the grand council was considered as
opened in due form.
The chief made an harangue welcoming the white men to his village, and
expressing his happiness in taking them by the hand as friends; but at
the same time complaining of the poverty of himself and his people; the
usual prelude among Indians to begging or hard bargaining.
Mr. Hunt then spoke, declaring the object of his journey to the great
Salt Lake beyond the mountains, and that he should want horses for the
purpose, for which he was ready to trade, having brought with him
plenty of goods. He concluded his speech by making presents of tobacco.
The left-handed chieftain in reply promised his friendship and aid to
the new-comers, and welcomed them to his village. He added that they
had not the number of horses to spare that Mr. Hunt required, and
expressed a doubt whether they should be able to part with any. Upon
this, another chieftain, called Gray Eyes, made a speech, and declared
that they could readily supply Mr. Hunt with all the horses he might
want, since, if they had not enough in the village, they could easily
steal more. This honest expedient immediately removed the main
difficulty; but the chief deferred all trading for a day or two, until
he should have time to consult with his subordinate chiefs, as to
market rates; for the principal chief of a village, in conjunction with
his council, usually fixes the prices at which articles shall be bought
and sold, and to them the village must conform.
The council now broke up. Mr. Hunt transferred his camp across the
river at a little distance below the village, and the left-handed chief
placed some of his warriors as a guard to prevent the intrusion of any
of his people. The camp was pitched on the river bank just above the
boats. The tents, and the men wrapped in their blankets and bivouacking
on skins in the open air, surrounded the baggage at night. Four
sentinels also kept watch within sight of each other outside of the
camp until midnight, when they were relieved by four others who mounted
guard until daylight.
[Illustration: TRADING FOR HORSES]
A trade now commenced with the Arickaras under the regulation and
supervision of their two chieftains. Mr. Hunt established his mart in
the lodge of the Big Man. The village soon presented the appearance of
a busy fair; and as horses were in demand, the purlieus and the
adjacent plain were like the vicinity of a Tartar encampment; horses
were put through all paces, and horsemen were careering about with that
dexterity and grace for which the Arickaras are noted. As soon as a
horse was purchased, his tail was cropped, a sure mode of
distinguishing him from the horses of the tribe; for the Indians
disdain to practice this absurd, barbarous, and indecent mutilation,
invented by some mean and vulgar mind, insensible to the merit and
perfections of the animal. On the contrary, the Indian horses are
suffered to remain in every respect the superb and beautiful animals
which nature formed them.
The wealth of an Indian of the far west consists principally in his
horses, of which each chief and warrior possesses a great number, so
that the plains about an Indian village or encampment are covered with
them. These form objects of traffic or objects of depredation, and in
this way pass from tribe to tribe over great tracts of country. The
horses owned by the Arickaras are, for the most part, of the wild stock
of the prairies; some, however, had been obtained from the Poncas,
Pawnees, and other tribes to the southwest, who had stolen them from
the Spaniards in the course of horse-stealing expeditions into the
Mexican territories. These were to be known by being branded, a Spanish
mode of marking horses not practised by the Indians.