COMPENSATION.* You think I'm nervous, stranger? Well, I am! I'd get right off this pokish train and walk That's where I live, you see. As for Lacrosse (Excuse me, neighbor, I must talk or bust)Since I've been there, its three years certain, just; And now to laugh or cry is just a toss. "Married?" Why, yes, that's where it is, you see; It's too good luck, this is,-to last, you know; You see, when we were married, Sue and I All I could make went into that concern; In all this world I had but one friend then, But she stood by me nobly, through and through, And said 'twould come out right at last, she knew— One woman stanch is worth a dozen men! 'Twas tough sometimes, though when a loaf of bread Stood on the table-all the meal we had I should have gone, alone, quite to the bad; But, through it all, my Susan kept her head. For a full description of this poem, see the preceding article. It is a pathetic tribute to the glorious, true womanhood that crowns man's worthiest work. 'Twas her advice that sent me off at last- A hundred thousand and a royalty Is what I've got for going far away; She knows I'm coming; but she doesn't know Dressed in her best-her best, my poor, dear Sue ! I'll bet a hundred 'twill be calico! "I'll dress her now!" You bet it!-but go slow; The only reason, if it don't, will be That I'm so strongly thinking that it will. I'm nervous, say you? Just a little, still The luck is none too good for Sue, you see. Heilo! we're here!-there's Sue, by all that's grand! Peal peal! peal! Bells of brass and bells of steel; How he scorns the brazen throats Street to street, Like a raid of horsemen fleet, Ruthless drive they to the street; Treasured arts of time and toil! Crash crash! crash! See the fiery surges lash Cross-crowned spire and splendid dome, Proud arcade and palace home; Molten acres seethe and roll, City lords no more control; Riot-flames in fury whirl, Toss their plumes, and madly curl Lips of scorn at human cries, Rolls a sea of human woo. THE RESCUE OF CHICAGO.-HENRY M. Look. I SAW the city's terror, I heard the city's cry, As a flame leaped out of her bosom, Up, up to the brazen sky. And wilder rose the tumult, And thicker the tidings came— Chicago, queen of the cities, Was a rolling sea of flame. Yet higher rose the fury, And louder the surges raved,- 'Till out of the awful burning, And across to brave St. Louis The prayer for succor was sent. God bless thee, O true St. Louis! Back, back on the wing of the lightning, Through the horrible flame and heat, God bless thee, again, St. Louis ! Thou called'st to all the cities By lightning and steam and pen: "Ho, ho, ye hundred sisters, Stand forth in your bravest might! Our sister in flames is falling, Her children are dying to-night "" And through the mighty Republic The distant Golden City Called through her golden gates, And quickly rung the answer And the cities that sit in splendor I heard through the next night's darkness, Till they stood where the fated city The rich gave their abundance, The poor their willing hands; There was wine from all the vineyards,There was corn from all the lands. At daybreak over the prairies |