Puslapio vaizdai
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thanks. I wish you to remember me in your prayers. I would be so glad to see you. Below I send a copy of Mr. Bliss' letter to me:

MASTER CHARLES:

MY LITTLE FRIEND -Your kind letter was received in due time. We have been flying about so that this is the first good chance I have had to reply. Mr. Whittle and I both thank you very much for your token of good will to our little boys. They are not old enough to answer, but we will keep your gifts for them. We will pray for you. I was, as your mother says, full of fun when I was a boy. Mrs. Bliss says I have not gotten over it yet. I do love fun, and love to romp and play with my little boys. We have a little baby boy ten months old. Paul Bliss is nearly three years old, and I love my friends and music very much; but that does not prevent my loving Jesus. No, I think I love Him all the more for giving me so many pleasant things and a cheerful, happy heart. I hope you pray to God every day. Pray for me. My love to Sister Annie, for Jesus' sake. Yours in Him, P. P. BLISS.

P. P. BLISS-IN MEMORIAM.

[From the St. Paul (Minnesota) Dispatch.]

In a burst as of heavenly music, he came,
And heart spoke to heart with each tone!
"Twas Christ and His cross was the glorified theme
Which gathered all hearts into one!

We heard him! it seemed that a seraph had sung
En wrapped in a mortal's disguise!

But while the deep cadence around us still hung,
The seraph had pass'd to the skies.

Oh mourn not for him, or the dear ones he loved,
For soon was the agony o'er,

And the jewels God gave him to gladden his life
Will be his on the evergreen shore!

Dear Brother, farewell! What wonders desired

Shall now to thy vision unfold!

What chords thou didst touch in thy moments inspired,

Whose vibrations may never be told!

ST. PAUL, January 2, 1877.

R. M.

CHAPTER XIX.

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MR. BLISS' MISCELLANEOUS POEMS-“ FORTUNE'S BEST GIFT”— FAREWELL, OLD YEAR"-" THE WOOD BIRD'S SONG "-"LET US HAVE PEACE AUNT TABITHA'S TRIALS "-" THE LAST BUGLE BOYS WANTED -"WORK AND PRAY "-" THERE'S MONNY A SHLIP "" SIRE AND SON "FOR ME "_"'TIS THE HEART MAKES THE HOME "-" LOVING LITTLE LOU -"THE PHOTOGRAPH ROOM FOR ONE MORE"-" MR. LORDLY AND I -" WILLIE'S WOOING THE TIN WEDDING JOHN CHINAMAN - A TRAGICAL TAIL"-" WHEN GRANDMAMMA IS GONE "-"BUSHNELL LUTION

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EARLY all of the following have been published in sheet music form by Messrs. Church & Co. The others appeared in the Song Messenger, by the same publishers. The words are here given by their permission.

FORTUNE'S BEST GIFT.

Dame Fortune smiled upon my youth,
Gave me kind friends and parents dear,
Who taught me virtue, love and truth,
The right to love, the wrong to fear.

Gave me of learning my small share-
My verse exhibits that is small-

Gave my heart strength its ills to bear,

Gave health, strength, voice, friends, learning, all.

Through childhood's days she led me on,
And smiled upon my boyhood years;

Her favors all, save wealth, I've won,

But wealth brings cares and toils and tears.

She's given me all I'd have her given,

She's given me cause to hope through life,

And after life to hope for heaven,

And next to heaven she's given MY WIFE.

ARCADE N. Y., Last day of October, 1874.

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Pots, kettles and pans, pans, kettles and pots!

I'm sick of their sight, and I'd give them all for a bunch of "forget-me-nots;"

But my children cannot live on the scent of a nosegay fair;

They would much prefer a chicken pie to flow'rets rich and rare,
But I never complain.

Tub, boiler and suds, suds, boiler and tub!

My arms are red and my fingers are spread, with terrible, terrible rub.

You may talk of your babbling brooks, you may sing of the streamlets bright; It would take waters of both, I know, to make these clothes white,

But I never complain.

Wood, shavings and coal, coal, shavings and wood!

My fire has gone out, though I coaxed it as long and patient as any one could. You may sing of the "Brave Old Oak," you may praise "Mountain Pine,"

I'd rather have some splinters now, to kindle this fire of mine,

But I never complain.

BOYS WANTED.

Pan, duster and broom, broom, duster and pan!

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I'm worried to death, and I'd give all the world if I'd only been born a man.

Oh, pity me, ye who dwell in cabins with one small room;

Oh, pity me, ye who never know what 'tis to handle a broom.

But I never complain.

January, 1870.

THE LAST BUGLE.

The sad muffled drum sounds the last march of the brave,
The soldier retreats to his quarters, the grave,

Under death, whom he owns his Commander-in-chief.
No more he'll "turn out with the ready relief,"

But in spite of death's terrors and hostile alarms,

When he hears the last bugle, he'll stand to his arms.

Farewell, brother soldier, in peace may you rest,
And light lie the turf on each mouldering breast,
Until that review when the souls of the brave
Shall behold their chief ensign, fair mercy's flag wave
Then, freed from death's terrors and hostile alarms,
When we hear the last bugle, we'll stand to our arms.

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BOYS WANTED.

Written for Daniel's Band, Louisville, Kentucky.

Boys are wanted, so they say,

Boys are wanted every day,

Boys are wanted; we will pay
Cash for boys.

CHORUS.-Boys are wanted, brave and true,

Boys of mind and muscle, too,
Boys who dare the right to do,
Faithful boys.

Boys are wanted, here and there,
Boys who will for work prepare,

Boys are wanted everywhere,
Willing boys.

Boys to handle hoe and spade,

Boys to bend who're not afraid,

Boys to follow any trade,

Business boys.

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