And, as by magic, shutters were closed to.
'Tis very cleverly arranged, I say,
But here's a knob marked with the letter A;
What is its use? This A stands for alarm,
When pressed in case of fire or threatened harm,
A large alarum placed above the roof,
Soon to the neighbours gives convincing proof;
We won't try that just now as its sound, would
Undoubtedly alarm the neighbourhood.
But see, in this recess with curtained way
Is a self-acting shower-bath that you may
Try in the morning if you're so inclined.
There's just one more contrivance yet I find
That I must show you; by your bed side stands
A nest of speaking tubes; this one commands
My bedroom, number two, my sister's, and
The third, Jane's room; this last, you understand,
Might be convenient should you e'er require,
If ill, an early cup of tea, or fire.
Is Jane the pretty housemaid? I reply,
She is, you sly boy, but she's coy and shy.
Harry, I thought you'd known me better to----
All right, old boy, I was but joking you.
Harry now left. When dressed for dinner I
Resolved tube numbered one at once to try,
I blew the whistle, from the other end
Hallo, was quickly answered by my friend.
I'm waiting to go down, will you be long?
I'm ready now, came mellowly along,
And so we met upon the landing soon,
And joined the ladies in the drawing-room.
A charming little dinner o'er, and then
The ladies left and we were chatting when
A bell was rung; Hallo, that's Pool, Hal cried;
What does he want, I wonder, quick replied
His friend by numerous clicks. He wants to know
If we will sup with him. Mark, will you go?
I've no objection; click, click, click soon sent
The answer to his friend, and off we went.
On our return Hal showed me many more
Of his inventions, of which he'd a store,
Till my bewildered and distracted head
Was fairly dazed, so I escaped to bed,
But not, alas, to sleep; th' exciting day
Had been too much for my poor nerves; I lay
Tossing and restless, could not sleep at all,
So thought I'd summon Harry to my call,
As he'd suggested, and we had agreed
That I should do in case of urgent need.
I seized the tube, blew through it lustily.
Well, soon was answered through it sleepily.
I cannot get to sleep, I wish you'd come
To me, or have me with you in your room;
I'd rather of the two that you'd come here,
As you proposed, in case of need or fear.
As I proposed! you base, abandoned wretch,
Repeat those words and I'll my brother fetch.
Horror of horrors! the wrong tube I'd grasped,
And to Miss Gradient had been talking fast.
What should I do? I tried, but all in vain,
Th' unlucky error meekly to explain.
Dear madame, I assure you on my word,
'Twas a mistake, but no response was heard;
'Twas clear she'd hear no more I had to say,
However I might for forgiveness pray,
So, putting in the whistle, on the bed
I once more settled my distracted head.
The bare idea of my speaking so
To that old lady was an awful blow;
How could I meet her at the breakfast? how
Sustain the anger of that rigid brow?
At last I made a desperate resolve
To wake up Hal, the mystery to solve,
So, quickly seizing the next tube o'erhead,
Oh! I have made a great mistake, I said,
I wanted you to come and sleep by me,
But, seizing the wrong tube, unluckily
I asked Miss Gradient to come instead
Of you; pray come to me at once, I said,
Or I shall try to find you, quickly too;
I'm dying something to explain to you.
The answer almost drove me wild with pain,
'Twas in a quick, sharp, female voice again,
But not Miss Gradient's evidently now,
'Twas Jane's, the pretty housemaid's: how--
How dare you, Sir! I'd have you know, young man,
That I'm an honest girl, and scorn your plan,
And if you dare to come you can't get in,
For cook has double locked the door within.
My dear girl, I assure you, I commenced--
I ain't your dear girl, then said Jane, incensed,
'Tis no use talking any more to-night,
With curl papers I'll stop the plug up tight,
And in the morning, to your cost, you'll see
I will expose your conduct thoroughly.
Another awful error--what a scrape
I found myself within, and how escape?
I threw myself once more upon the bed,
Great drops of perspiration on my head,
Feeling bewildered, destitute of hope,
With such a series of mishaps to cope.
If those fast bolted shutters had not been
So firmly closed, I might have had a gleam
Of the blest early dawn, but I _will_ try,
Thought I, to open them; then by and bye
I'll dress and go to Harry to explain,
Before he meets his sister or sees Jane.
I felt my way then cautiously along,
Quite nervous, lest I should again go wrong.
The window was a bow one--on I passed,
Still groping onward, till I cried at last,
Ah! here it is, this is the curtain slide;
I passed within, when--how shall I describe
My woeful plight? I screamed and yelled with pain,
My feelings to describe, alas! 'twere vain,
In the self-acting shower bath I had stepped.
And in a torrent its freed waters leapt
On my distracted form, with deafening sound,
Which sent me stunned and spinning to the ground
In painful and undignified surprise;
The curtains having deadened the wild cries,
Wrung from me under such enforced surprise,
No one had been aware of my sad plight.
As dripping, shivering with the sudden fright,
I drew my wet clothes off and felt my way
For dry ones, longing for the light of day,
As longs some sun-struck traveller, from whose sight
A momentary shock obscures the light.
The darkness so oppressive and intense
Seemed round me an impenetrable fence,
As well to physical as mental view,
Deadening the intellect and reason too.
I could not long the awful state endure,
So making a great effort to secure
A calmer mood, by sad experience taught,
Why, what a fool I've been, at length I thought,
To have forgotten like an arrant dunce
I've but to press the knob to have at once
The gas jet lit; so groping bit by bit,
I reached it, pushed the knob, but no gas lit;
Terrific noise above I heard instead,
I'd set th' alarum crashing overhead!
What should I do? the neighbourhood would be
Aroused, and perhaps as terrified as me.
I'd no idea how to stop the thing
Which now distractingly began to ring.
I'd rush to Harry; ah, he'd heard the crash,
And to my room now rushed with hurried dash;
Why, what on earth's the matter, quickly tell?
Nothing but that abominable bell.
I wished to light the gas, the wrong knob pushed;
There, Harry said, I've stopped it, and off rushed
To satisfy the neighbours who were now
Ringing t' inquire th' occasion of the row.
He soon returned, saying he'd telegraphed
To tell of the mistake, and then he laughed,
Lighted my gas, and quickly went to bed,
As he, like me, was chilled from heels to head.
Alas! my friend was gone ere I'd the power
T' explain the _contretemps_ of that sad hour.
To get away was now my only thought,
But then this all-important step was fraught
With seen and unseen dangers everywhere,
Suppose I met Miss Gradient on the stair,
Or Jane--for this I candidly confess
I did not the required aplomb possess.
Besides I dreaded now to rouse the house;
No, I would dress, then wait, still as a mouse,
For early dawn, a note to Harry write,
Which would my wronged position soon make right.
Yes, I would go before the servants were,
Or any of the family, astir.
Consulting Bradshaw, then, I found a train
Arranged to leave at six--could I but gain
The station by that hour, how happy I
Should be. I soon resolved to try.
I dressed at once, my letter with sad heart
Placed on the table, and prepared to start.
Opening the door I crept out cautiously,
With boots in hand down stairs quite noiselessly;
Arriving in the hall I put them on,
But found the front door locked and the key gone!
Confound it! what on earth was I to do?
I'd try the kitchen entrance to get through;
Steering in that direction, on I went,
To find some egress resolutely bent;
Coming to baize-clad folding doors at length,
I turned the handle, pushed with all my strength.
Then, Murder! Thieves! and Fire! I shouted loud,
For tightly clasped in writhing pain I bowed
Within the thief trap, where I had been caught,
Which Harry had explained, but I'd forgot;
The sharp, excruciating agony,
From the electric current, cruelly
Vibrated through me from my head to feet,
Urging the goaded blood to fever heat.
At last the cruel knocks and shaking ceased,
And from the horrid thing I got released;
I dropped bewildered on a chair hard by,
With tortured body and despairing cry,
And then spied Harry shivering at my side,
Asking how I came there, when I replied,
Why, I was going off, I gasping said,
I've been most miserable since I went to bed,
This is the climax, I have suffered so
That I am quite determined now to go.
Nonsense, said Harry, come upstairs again,
I'm sorry you've been put to so much pain,
But I will soon make all things right, you'll see.
No, in this house I'll never happy be;
I'm much obliged for all your kind intent,
But am on leaving resolutely bent,
For what with handles, tubes, bells, wires and such,
With pipes, coils, batteries, and knobs to push,
I've almost lost my head, am racked with pain,
And long my own snug lodgings to regain.
Well, wait at least until the men arrive,
When we can to the station quickly drive,
And meanwhile Jane your breakfast shall prepare.
No, no, I cannot wait for Jane, I then declare,
Pray let me go, or I shall miss the train;
Good-bye, in town we'll shortly meet again,
I've left a note to tell the reason why
I felt obliged to go; again, good-bye.
I'd not gone far along the path before
I ventured to look back again once more.
Then walking at a less excited rate
I just remembered that within the gate
Electric wires were laid, so, turning round.
And seeing Harry still upon the ground,
Cried, is there any danger at the gate?
Danger, what do you mean? at any rate
You're sure there're no more wires or such like thing,
No coils or batteries, no more bells to ring?
Oh, nothing of the kind, you need not fear,
But, Frank, said Hal, come back and reason hear.
I shook my head and resolutely cried,
No, thank you, for that moment I espied
Jane opening shutters, so I quickly pushed
Aside the gate, and out exulting rushed.
I breathed more freely when once fairly through,
And o'er the highway to the station flew.
I caught the early train and reached my home,
Almost determined nevermore to roam,
For what I'd suffered on that single night,
Was quite enough to make me die of fright;
And as I sank upon my chair I said,
Thank goodness, I've no wires above my head,
For as to lighting gas I'd rather stir
And light it with the humble lucifer;
Encounter burglar with my own strong arm,
In place of man traps to create alarm;
Pull at the shower bath in a Christian way,
And face to face with friends my visits pay,
Than have electric wires take my commands,
And do the honest work of willing hands.
* * * * *
IT IS BUT AN AUTUMN LEAFLET.
It is but a bright autumn leaflet,
Blown adrift from the fond parent stem,
To wither and perish in silence,
Like many a flowering gem;
But I gathered the flame-tinted treasure,
As it fluttering fell at my feet,
To send to my own absent darling,
Her radiant glances to greet.
It grew in the grand air of freedom,
From the heart of the mountain sod,
Fulfilling its destiny gladly,
In cheerful obedience to God.
It struggled through life well and bravely,
'Gainst wind, cruel night, frost and storm,
Which gained it that bright sheen of glory,
Its fond dying face to adorn.
'Tis said that the song of the bulbul,
Floating sweetly through calm moonlit skies,
As he sings to his dearly loved partner,
Is the sweetest just ere he dies;
So it seemed that the leaflet whilst dying,
Was discoursing of love from its core,
Which gave it a beauty and glory
It had never appeared in before.
It spoke of a life in the future,
Transcending the glory of this,
Where hearts in harmonious concert,
Would form an existence of bliss.
So I gathered the love-freighted leaflet,
Which brought such sweet message to me,
In hopes that its heavenly language,
Might be eloquent also to thee.
For I knew that the beautiful message,
Came from fond nature's glorious king,
So I linked it in rhythmical measure,
For you, my own darling, to sing.
And as your clear voice gives it utterance,
Think of her who has sent it to thee,
As a love-laden token and blessing,
From her fond heart far over the sea.
* * * * *
WRITTEN ON BOARD THE S.S. "EGYPT," SEPTEMBER 5th, 1884.
Kind friends and passengers, we near
Our destined port, in England dear,
But ere we land, our thanks are due,
To our skilled captain and brave crew,
For having brought us safely o'er,
Broad ocean from its further shore,
With uniform consummate care,
Beyond expression or compare.
Then, Captain Sumner and your crew,
Accept our loyal thanks, most true,
For steering the good ship _Egypt_ o'er,
In safety to her destined shore.
Then, as is customary here,
Let these thanks find expression clear,
Towards sailors' orphans, who have claim
On all who safely cross the main.
Then pass the broadest plate around,
Let great bright coins on it resound.
The claim ungrudgingly fulfil,
With generous heart and right good will.
Then, ere we part, let each one try
To sing "Good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye,"
With hopes, some day, again to meet
And each the other kindly greet.
* * * * *
ROBERVAL.
A LEGEND OF OLD FRANCE.
Never did rosy morning
Sweep o'er the skirts of night,
Calm nature's face adorning,
With more intense delight;
Never did earth exultant
Summon her offspring all,
To life-work, love and duty
With more inspiring call,
Than in the young spring season,
Three centuries ago,
When Roberval set sail from France
To skim broad ocean's flow.
Nobles, rich, young and restless,
Statesmen and soldiers too,
Women of birth, and sailors,
Composed the adventurous crew.
Leaving St. Malo's harbour.
They steered in Cartier's wake,
For that New France which Francis hoped
A source of wealth to make.
For of it wondrous stories
Were floating in the air,
A very Paradise it seemed
Of joy beyond compare.
A vast, mysterious country,
Studded with gems and gold,
Where virgin soil and forests grand
Were girt by headlands bold.
A land of beauty, where 'twas said
Celestial fountains played,
Whose waters made the aged young,
And Time's dread havoc stayed.
Such were the thrilling stories
Of ancient Florida.
And of that favoured part of it
Now known as Canada.
France, prompted by ambition,
Was on its conquest bent,
Though Rome to Spain had given
The whole vast continent.
To subjugate a people
In wildest freedom bred,
Whose trade was armed barter,
To utmost hardship wed,
To potent savage nations,
To teach the white man's creed;
This was the hardy project
That France's king decreed.
Among the group of women
Was Marguerite, the fair
Niece of the Viceroy, Roberval,
Young, lovely, debonnaire,
Like gleams of summer sunshine
That glorify the sea,
Among the ship's companions,
Her presence seemed to be.
There, too, was a young noble,
Who with her left his home,
Content all honours to renounce,
With her he loved to roam;
Together had they plighted
Their vows before high heaven,
To the new faith together
Their pledged adhesion given.
Before their loving pastor,
And Marguerite's maid, with prayer,
These Huguenots in secret,
To sign the contract dare,
In the still hour of midnight,
Whilst all were thought to be,
Bound in the gyves of slumber,
In that ship far out at sea.
Alas! a listening traitor,
Ere waned the morning star,
Prompted by hate and malice,
Had spread the secret far;
And Roberval rose furious,
In wild ungoverned rage,
Against the hated heretics,
A deadly war to wage.
Fast bind the men in irons,
The women thrust, he said,
Into a boat with fire-arms,
Some powder, meat and bread,
For see! the Isle of Demons
Lies close athwart our lee,
And they the fit companions
Of its horned fiends shall be.
The wild, infernal orgies
Of these winged imps of night
Yet fill the air with horror,
And thrill it with affright;
To these I now consign them,
Quick, thrust them out to sea,
And through a life of torture
May they repentant be.
Thus Roberval, the Viceroy,
Thundered his fierce commands,
As Leon, Marguerite's husband
Burst from his iron bands,
Plunged headlong in the wild flood
And toward the threatening shore,
Swam boldly forth'--defiant
Of him and ocean's roar.
The swimmer and the boat's crew
Long fought for life and breath,
And all appeared together
Entering the jaws of death,
As Roberval steered from them,
Outbreathing curses loud,
And imprecations furious
That stout hearts chilled and cowed.
The ship receded--vanished,
Leaving the wave-tossed three
All valiantly contending
With the belated sea.
The swimmer battled fiercely,
With ocean's maddening strife,
As the frail women bravely
Contended for dear life.
Till haply, thanks to heaven,
They're saved, for see, they stand
Linked heart and hand together,
The three once more on land.
'Tis said infernal demons,
Beset them day and night,
And with their shrieks satanic
Chilled them with dire affright.
But a strong hand celestial
Was ever interposed,
And round about them ever
A viewless barrier closed.
Unutterably hideous,
Th' infernal brood of hell,
Howling in baffled fury,
Around them powerless fell.
In course of time kind heaven
Gave them a baby boy,
Who filled their hearts with rapture,
And thrilled them to new joy,
But death soon stole their treasure,
Then Leon made his own
The Norman nurse then summoned,
And Marguerite was alone!
Alone on that dread island,
In whose accursed soil
Her loved ones found unhallowed rest
From harrowing care and toil.
Still courage never failed her,
Though fettered to the sod
Where hideous fiends assailed her,
To try her faith in God.
Though foes came gathering round her,
Appalling to the view,
From upper as from nether worlds,
And nearer lurking drew,
Of these, grim bears were foremost,
Who boldly round her close,
But with her gun brave Marguerite
Slew three of these fierce foes.
Thus, though most gently nurtured,
This maiden rose to be
A heroine undaunted
On the lone isle of the sea,
And Leon was a hero,
Who risked fame, fortune, life,
To be the sworn defender
Of helpless maid and wife.
Two dreary years of warfare
Had passed o'er Marguerite's head,
Crowded with deeds heroic,
Since she with Leon wed,
When, far at sea some whalers
Observed a curling smoke
Rise from the haunted island,
Which fear and wonder woke.
Was it the trick of demons
To lure them to the shore,
And lead them on to ruin,
As many had been before?
They thought it was, and kept aloof,
Then vague surmises made.
That some unhappy mortal
Might need their timely aid.
So, triumphing o'er terror,
They warily drew nigh,
Descried a female figure
Waving her signals high;
Clothed in the skins of white bears,
So lovely she appeared,
That the brave-hearted sailors
Most gladly toward her steered.
Thus Marguerite was rescued,
Through a heaven-directed chance,
Restored to home and country
In her beloved France.
'Tis said the baffled demons
At her departure fled,
And never to the island
Again their legions led.
Firm in her new faith, Marguerite
Was a brave pioneer,
Of those devoted Hugenots,
To true hearts justly dear,
Who, half a century after,
Composed that sturdy flock,
Who from the good ship _May Flower_
Landed on Plymouth rock.
And who shall say how many
This noble woman led,
To break their bonds asunder,
Who were to priestcraft wed?
And as I close this ballad,
Historically true,
Learn, reader, that its heroes
Toiled not in vain for you.
* * * * *
NOTE--Isles of Demons: one of two islands north-east of Newfoundland
supposed to have been given over to the fiends, from whom they derive
their name, variously called by Thevet Isle de Fische, Isle de Roberval,
and Isle of Demons. The Isle Fichet of Sanson and the Fishot Island of
some modern maps.
* * * * *
THE BROOKLYN CATASTROPHE OF DECEMBER 5TH, 1876.
Twas eve in Brooklyn, and the bracing air
Of northern regions fanned the city fair,
Urging life's currents to a generous flow
And quick'ning nerve and pulse to joyful glow.
A touching tragedy had been installed
Within the theatre, "The Orphans" called,
One of the most successful dramas sage,
America has placed upon the stage.
To it for peaceful recreation strayed
Scores of the citizens, _en fête_ arrayed,
Some with beloved ones whom they hoped one day,
Might be their partners through life's checkered way.
Others formed parties from the family group,
Maidens and children in the joy of youth,
Glad schoolboys taken for reward or treat,
And worthless idlers sauntering from the street.
Many a fond and loving pair were there
Who in each other's joys and griefs had share;
Grave statesmen, merchants, all in that brief hour,
Sat spell-bound by the dramatist's rare power.
When in an instant the appalling cry
Of fire! fire!! fire!!! was heard resounding high;
The terror-stricken crowd in blank dismay
Rushed frantically towards each narrow way.
No ears had they for the brave girl who sought
To counsel in that hour with horror fraught,
Who cried "We are between you and the fire,
Be calm, for God's sake, in this danger dire."
[Footnote: On the first alarm of fire and whilst others were escaping,
Miss Kate Claxton with three other actors came bravely forward to the
footlights uttering these words of passionate entreaty.]
Those nearest haply reached the narrow way,
And thanking God, emerged from the affray,
Whilst others stumbled, dazed with terror wild
And soon in tangled heaps lay powerless piled.
In wildest proxysms of fear and pain,
Each sought his giddy footing to retain,
Whilst piercing cries of agonized despair,
Rose through the gloomy smoke-charged stifling air.
Then suffocation, oft more merciful
Than fire, its victims claimed to lull,
Scared victims, gasping for that precious air,
Which fire and smoke alike refused them there.
Fast hurried on the greedy tongues of fire,
To make of those dread mounds a funeral pyre,
As raging onward o'er their victims broke,
The fearful conflict of the fire and smoke.
Dread was the scene o'er which the Fire King laughed
As he his bowl of frantic pleasure quaffed,
Whilst the doomed structure tottered in the girth
Of his wild, bellowing, satanic mirth.
Strong men and feeble women, young and old,
Statesmen, financiers, and warriors bold,
Who were a short hour since elate with pride.
Now charred and calcined, slumber side by side.
The fierce insatiate fire-fiend raging flew
In wild demoniac rage the structure through,
Tearing down rafters, hurling to the ground,
Props, pillars roof-beams with appalling sound.
Oh! what a scene of strife raged wildly there,
'Mid cries for help and struggles of despair;
All human efforts powerless to assuage,
The greedy fire-fiend's devastating rage.
The fiery monster dashed away all trace,
Of that late mimic world of beauteous grace,
Swallowing in a fleet, wrathful breath of rage,
All the vain baubles of the tinseled stage.
All the wild tumult has subsided now,
Hushed is the pleading prayer and woe strung vow,
Breathed by fond parents, brothers, husbands, wives
Of near three hundred late exultant lives!
Then, as the demon's rage was well nigh spent,
He o'er the drenched and trampled corses bent,
Effacing as he best could, every trace
Of recognition from each ghastly face.
Drunken and gorged the sated fire-fiend spread
His gloomy sable shroud about the dead,
And left the fort he could not longer hold
Conquered by man's heroic efforts bold.
Too painful 'twould be to prolong the tale,
Of that which followed, or the piteous wail
Of friends bereaved, who sought with harrowing dread,
To single out their loved ones from the dead.
Close we, by urging those in power to do
What well becomes all rulers wise and true,
To make new laws, enforced by vigorous means,
To spare all repetition of such scenes.
Oft will Columbia sing to future time,
Of her centennial union sublime
But ever with the memorable year,
Will mingle memories of this history drear.
* * * * *
THE NAINI TAL CATASTROPHE OF THE 18TH SEPTEMBER, 1880.