The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-01-24
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 MEMORIES OF A POET.
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0O6 SOkuSAAAAAG 0oaAn6 AAS AAASp ASeAAN SoA6 that most beautiful of all our national anthems, The Red, White and BlueF' It has found q place in the heart and stired the emotions Of every lover of liberty in this and other lands, and will live as long as our nation stands upon Eberty's foundation. Yet, how many sre there that know who the author was, or are familiar with his life and habits, or even dream of the shadows of disappoint- ment and sorrow that darkened the clos ing days of his life?
 Although the twilight of the long, dark night of eternity throws its shadows across the tomb of the author, William Ross Wallace, his spirit let us hope, lives in that higher sphere from which he drew the beautiful inspiration that pervades his verse.
 He was poet, cast in natures purest mold. His thoughts, feelings, and ex- pressions were faaciful light and gay through which flashed the sunbeams of beautiful and lofty sentiment Again, clouds of sadness stole across his nature, and at such times he formed some of the most beautiful gems of poetic fancy that the world, perhaps, has ever seen. His poems were published in the leading magazines and other publications throughout the world, and in all lan- guages, because of their simplicity and purity, that reflected the two moods of his nature-sunshine and sadness and, also, because they were marked by sad, pathetic sweetness and sincere earnest ness that seemed divine, and marked him ruler in the realms of ideality.
 In one respect, at least, his poems diff fered from many that the world call great-through whose long and tortuous passages the persevering efforts of an army of critics is required to discover some obscure and hidden meaning, and whose opinions generally differ to a wide extent.
 Wallace's poetry was 90 comprehen- sive and beautiful as to be as readily un- derstood by the young as the aged, and the uneducated as the intellectual and refined.
 To nearly all the literary men and toilers about the great newspaper offices of New York city, his face was familiar. It was in that metropolis, during the autumn of 1866 or '67, that the writer, then but youth, was introduced to him by Horace Greeley, and between the three friendship was formed that lasted until affectfon's sweetest tic was iooseped by the icy hand of death-Wallace pass ing away some years after Greeley, and whatever little success the writer hopes to gain in the literary world will be due to the valuable advice and teachings of those two good men, who were true friends of the ambitious young writer, and though he alone remains, sweet and tender memories of them cluster about his heart-like the ivy, ever green, amid life's winter of desolation as in the sum- mer of hope and sunshine.
 He was man little past middle age, tall and angular looking, with sharp, prominent cheek-bones, very hollow cheeks, and shaggy eyebrows that cov- cred eyes whose glances were the keenest and most penetrating ever beheld, and through which the mans whole soul shone forth like the restless fires of distant star. His attire was generally coarse and plain, yet at all times he looked neat, and re- sembled well-to-do farmer. more than apoet-a man whose beautiful song has found lasting home in the hearts and affections of his countrymen.
 Of his private life or family affairs will not speak. In life he always gave evasive answers to questions concerning the same, and in death, his wish shall be held sacred, although to the writer he confded much concerning his past.
 Some time ago read a newspaper article-evidently written by one who knew him not-that cast a cloud of re- proach upon his character. It was this that impelled the writer to take up the pen in defense of the friend whose hands lie cold and pulseIess across the heart that will never throb again. It stated that he was harsh in disposition, devoid of all sense of honor, and led an inn moral and dissolute life, and that his passion for strong drink, oftsn totally un- fitted him for literary pursuits, for long periods at . time. This statement, in . great measure was untrue, for, in disposi- ton, he was gentle, even as little child. His heart was pure, and not one thought of wrong or evil dweit in his brain even for q single instant HonOr vas the