Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1889-10-19
WE'LL HAVE TO TAKE NANCY BACK.


Well, wife, this letter tells me that Mans old
man is dead
There are seven helpless children to be trained
and clothed and fed;
Bill Snow was always desti ute OF energy, push
and pluck.
In all of his misfortunes he laid the blame on
"luck."
Poor Nan was never fond of work; she couldn't
wash nor bake:
She was fond of making verses and dreaming
wide awake.
A.climbing life's great rugged hill sorry team
they made.
Bill did not love pillow and hoe and never
learned a'trade.
When he called his native state hard names,
and moved off to the West.
! told him he would not find there land of
heavenly rest;
Fol- long rs men have sought for it, no spot of
earthly ground
That of itself will SOW and reap, has ever yet
been found.
Earth owes no man living; don't care what S
been said,
For such as don't toll with the hand, they earn
it with the head,
Bill had little learning; sort OF ornamental
like,
nerves the arms to strike.
1t has always been my opinion That the orna-
mental schools
Send out into the working world the sorriest
kind of fools
Men ought to learn the use of arms ere they
enter into strife,
And the useless ornamental has no place in
active life.
Nan begged 10 go to college, wife, the year she
married Snow;
I've wished and wished thousand times that
had let her go.
If had let her go, wife, and might as well as
not,
She would have had a heaven on earth COM
pared to what she's got.
Why, wife, the folks that keep our stores and
them that write the books
Are only men and women, with men and wo-
mems looks
1t used to seem that angel wings were folded
out of sight
On the shoulders of the mortals who could
dream and think and write,
Our Nancy had the aptitude and fancy for such
things,
But then she was too close to us for the idea of
wings.
Why, other women did write books and verses
But the idea of our Nancy cutting such high
capeTs.
This letter sets me thinking of what I might
have done,
Ere half our chicks were buried, the others wed
ard gone.
I thought to give each one home was the best
that could do,
For this l toiled and worried many long year
through.
Our children worked and worried, too, they
went barefoot and cold;
Led on by spreading acres and the cursed clink
of gold.
They had little education; we had no time to
The souls and minds of children in the hurried
race for gain.
Though Christians we did not take time to lead
them to the Cross
Their priceless souls we counted not in the sum
of gain and loss.
When you might have taught them lessons of a
higher, purer life,
You were warning with the churn dash, or with
the dust at strife.
Ungodly love of money made Johnny forge
note.
He's working for the State now, in a suit like
1t seems that we're to blame, wife, for all the
woe and blight,
We excited their ambition, and failed to train
1t right.
Our Lizzie was the fairest, wife, the youngest of
our brood,
With all her bright, industrious ways, so gentle
and so good.
You hadn't time to teach her, q do not blame
you, Wife,
The lessons which prepare a girl to live a wo-
mans life.
Don't weep so-you distress me, wife; you
hadn't time to train,
You tried so hard to help me in my cursed lust
for gain.
All you sob, in that heartrending way, what a
thousand times you have said,
Than to zee her spoiled of name and lame
l could not have punished her had been jury,
Judge.
But the world to erring womankind bears an
unfortunate grudge
The fame consumed the house; no skill nor
patient pain
Can ever fashion ashes into wall and roof again.
We were fattered at his coming, Lizzies hand
some city beau,
His polished ways and bank account were
talked about. you know.
To US he seemed a seraph Though one with
crownless BROW
OF the angelhood of mortals-Tve changed my
notion now.
But what's the use of talking, Lizzie and Nan
are gone,
The mistakes or crimes of the vanished years
can never be undone;
will write q script to-day, wife, inviting Nancy
home;
We will Stay the fatted turkey for welcome
when they come.
Fling wide the blinds and windows, open the
hallway door,
Let the golden bars of sunlight fall on the
musty floor:
The children shall have welcome in the dusty
parlcr here,
Where the silent feet of shadows have stepped
for many year. -Funnie Murray
Orella, Texas