But I changed from man to devil when I found my hopes

was dead.

It was this way, pard, she loved me as I loved her an'

in me

Hoped to find a soul-companion for all time that was to be.

You have read of man's creation-of the garden full of

flowers

How he lived in such contentment there among its walks and bowers;

But the sweetest flowers were withered, crushed and blighted, one and all

When the poison of the serpent left his trail upon them all.
She an' I was in our Eden all alone, when there arose
One whose heart and mind was fashioned somethin' like
mine, I suppose,

For he loved her, pard, and wooed her with an eloquence

and skill

That if she had been more fickle, might have changed her girlish will,

But she flew to me for refuge and declined to hear him

more,

Though he offered her position, jewels, wealth and gold galore.

Pard, I've noticed love ain't always hangin' round where diamonds shine,

Love don't always look for jewels- Love ain't mortalit's divine.

Oh, he loved her with a madness worthy of a better man, And he wooed her with a fervor that to desperation ran. Pard, the blackest, maddest monster that the bounds of hell has crossed,

Is a proud and jealous lover, when he finds his suit is lost,

Yes, 'twas in that very doorway one still evenin' when the

moon

Just had kissed the bright horizon- "Good bye, I will be back soon. ""

And its first bright rays was fallin' on her fairy form and face,

And my sweetheart stood there splendid in her ever matchless grace,

When he fondly looked upon her, caught her lily hand and

said;

"Kate, if that man ever claims you, it will be when you

Then she raised her raven lashes just in time to see him

start

Brandishin' a gleamin' dagger- and he stabbed her to the heart!

Stabbed my darlin'! Yes, he stabbed her! Stabbed her with his wicked blade,

And her heart blood leaped and sputtered through the cruel wound he made.

Pard, they say some imperfection in our guidin' star of

Fate,

While it fetches what we long for, often brings it up too

late;

But for me I'm always waitin' surely that was never said For a man who waits forever on a hope he knows is dead.

When I saw 'em lay my darlin' in the cold and clammy ground

I knew my heart was buried underneath that cruel mound; I was wild with grief and anger and I kneeled above her

breast,

And I gave eternal freedom to the devil I possessed

Swore by all the holy angels by her spirit and her God,

That the devil who had killed her should not live upon the

sod

Of the earth that now possessed her, and that I would never

rest

Till this hand that I had pledged her, sunk a dagger in his

breast!

Pard, I killed him! This same dagger cut him and his soul apart!

Seven times this keen blade quivered joyously in his false

heart!

Oh, I danced in wildest triumph as he writhed upon the

ground

And his hateful blood came pourin' from each madly gapin'

wound!

There I left him, cold and lifeless with his eyes and mouth

aghast

And I knowed he had his wages for his services at last!
He was dead, I know he was, pard, for I saw him stiff and

cold,

And I know that he was gathered safe into the devil's fold. But somehow, his corpse or spirit, something like he was

in life

Seems to go wherever I go, brandishin' that bloody knife! And I guess he'll pay me up, pard, when at last I'm gath

ered in,

For the Book says Death's the wages that the devil pays

for sin.

BOOTH LOWREY.

SUBJECTIVE POEMS.

IT IS NOT TOO LATE.

66 And is it too late?

No, for time is a fiction and limits no fate.
Thought alone is eternal. Time thralls it in vain
For the thought that springs upward and yearns to re-

gain

The pure source of spirit, there is no too late.

Owen Meredith.

The day will come when the faithful hand
Shall grasp its reward long sought;
The day will come when the heart's demand
In some way shall be wrought.

The day will come when the soul that yearns
And throbs with a sad unrest

Shall find release and shall rest in peace-
The guest of a tranquil breast.

The day will come when the cheerless ray
That pales at the careworn heart

Shall shine forth bright as the glad noonday
And darkness and clouds depart.

The day will come when the soul that waits
And braves as the seasons roll

Shall bask in the sunshine pure and sweet
Of its heaven appointed goal.

Oh, the days are dark when the soul is sad
The flowers bloom and fade

The sickening rays of the sun seem chill
As a damp and darkening shade.

But I hear a voice on the evening breeze
That comes from the far-off home.
And bids me wait for the hand of fate

The days went by with monotonous tread,
Each like the day that was spent and dead;
And my heart beat on to a dull sad rhyme,
Like muffled bells that had lost their chime.

Until one day, like a sunbeam bright,
You came, and chased away my night:
And I forgot that life was sad
And all the world grew young and glad.

A laugh came rippling down the years;
A rainbow gleamed through all my tears;
And the notes of a sweet and tender strain
Were borne to me on the wings of Pain.

The truth you brought, I needed so:
The heart's choice flowers from sorrows grow.
May you be blessed through life, the same
As you blessed my life, the day you came.

ELIZABETH PURSER.

SOUL SYMPATHY.

In my waking, in my sleeping

Shadows come upon me creeping

Till these eyes grow dim with weeping,
See the light of life no more.