The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1892-07-01
NO.. 27

soul disappears, and it becomes a
pleasure to hear body of delight
ful young people render selection
of poetry or prose or perform a cast
of character that may be assigned
them.
JUNIOR EssAY-MISS MAUD L. BURNS.
The only essay on the Junior even.
ing program was read by Miss Maud
L. Burns, subject, "Whittier typical
American Poet" 1t was beautifully
written essay and We regret that limi-
ted space forbids giving 1t entire Miss
Burns showed most conclusively that
J. G. Whittier is the typical poet of
America, and we bespeak for her in
this line Of work brilliant future, if
she will but bend her efforts to that
line of work.
JUNIOR GRAFTON.
Mr.. Will f. James of Scranton, Pa,
had the Junior Evening oration, and
he certainly treated it with such credit
as would have brought no shame to
much older head, "What Whittier has
seen of American Progress" 1t was in
deed, thoughtful, we'll written, and
well delivered production, and showed
very clearly Mr.. Whittier's large ex-
perience in, and broad comprehension
of Americas wonderful progress.
The last feature of the evenings pro.
gram, and which was quite unique in
its character, was composed expressly
for the occasion by Mrs. Welsh. 1t
was poem with pantomimic illustra.
tions.
The poet, Whittier, was represented
as sitting at his freside in the twilight
musing upon the various experiences
of his life.
"Memory leads him slowly back
ger many winding, devious track
10 the hopes and JOYS o; lOush's bright day.
The pathway not unclouded lay
Here oattle-note sounds high:
And here poor slaves.piteols cry
Pierces his inmoSt soul; and here
quiet grave he fingers near.
But he recalls happy memories too,
and as he sums up his life he feels that
the Divine Hand has crowned his lip
with blessings, and that he has true
cause for gratitude and content. In
spite of it all through, as he muses. in
the twilight, he says:
Tonight a sadness strangely steals
Upon me, as on one who feels
Himself alone dear friends haveI
And willing hands are always by
To crafty my least desire
But yet for me no home hearth-hre
Has ever burned; no gentle hand
Was ever placed In mine to stand
Or fall with me till death no one
Has named me Father no dear son
Nor daughter dear has ever taught
TO me the lessons deepest fraught
With Gods sweet fatherhood. No word
From child OF mine will e'er be heard
To help the world in hour OF need.
am alone, alone, indeed"
Tears gather at the thought and his
head sinks upon his breast. He falls
asleep, and as he sleeps he dreams that
he is sitting beside the old hearth
which he has made familiar to his read
ers in his poem, Snow Bound"
There gather around him, not the
forms that he was want to see there in
his childhood days, but "A goodly train,
the children of his heart and BRAIN"
They call him Father" and say
they have come to cheer him with
Glowing words and smiles of cheer"
One gentle daughter assures him that
they are now busy in the world speak
ing the messages that he through them
has spoken "And we shall speak, long
after thon art laid to sleep, in quiet rest"
Then they gather about him; Mary
Garvin with her sweet face; Barbara
treltchle with her flag; Mable Martin,
the wltch's daughter, now happy in
Esek Harden's love the little bow and
girl in Whittier's poem in In School
Days where the little girl says to the
boy with childish innocence,
I'm sorry that speIt the word,
hate TO go above you,
Because"-the brown eyes lower fell
because, you see, love YOU"
Cobbler keezer comes too, with his
magic lapstone; Maud Muller, rake in
hand, with the Judge; and last the
Barefoot Boy. They each speak some
characteristic part of the poem in
which they are found and as they
turn to so, leave beside the poet a
flower. The Barefoot Boy places his
flower in Whittier's hand and so wakens
him. AS he starts from the dream, he
looks around still expecting to see the
forms which had seemed SO real. But
although the words each spoke are
ringing in his ear, he does not see his
children. He glances down, however,
and sees the blossom in his hand, the
flowers beside him, and then he
gathers them into his hand and saws:
Sweet flowers, Gods messengers are you
Ana ever henceGorth while flowers blow,
shall remember shall know
That he can never be alone,
Who hears you speak In sweetest tone
or GODS abiding faithful love-
He then rises and with outstretshed
hands, and uplifted eyes, continues;
bless
Ihe good thy children try 10 do
Ihelr weakness pity and their sin FORGET
Father give myself to thee anew"
and the curtain falls.