The record-union., 1896-01-21
A Pioneer Citizens Flight Into the
Realms of Rhyme.

IAtAlluS VI my AAOs
The following lines were recently
written by B. o. Smith of 2406 P street,
and were read at the celebration of his
golden wedding. Mr.. Smith is 70 years
of age and settled in Sacramento in
1S49. The lines are published at the re-
quest of many of the friends Of himself
and wife:
Seventy years of life's journey we Travelled,
And rugged and rough was the road;
And wnen the life's burdens were heavy
/ have cheerfully carried the load.
Barefooted l ran in my childhood
I ran with the boys in my teens:
I hunted for game in the Wildwood,
angled for fish in the streams.
worked on the farm and the highway,
/ worked In the shop and the mill;
Fknew every highway and byway,
And always l worked with a will.
attended the school in the district,
And strove for the prize in my class,
But I grieved not when missed it
II twas won by some rosy-cheeked lass.
In manhood I set my face Westward
To the young man who asked for his counsel
About the best way he should go.
have journeyed from ocean to ocean,
With horses and mules for my teams;
have climbed up the sleeps of the 10 mountains
And forded the swift-running streams.
have seen the great shaggy buffalo
GalIoping awkardly over the plain
And have lived till the last of his wild race
Has been cruelty hunted and slain.
have seen the wild Indian in war-paint-
His dress was the skins of the deer;
His tent was the hide of the bison,
His arms were the bow and the spear.
have heard the wolf howl in the darkness,
Calling dolefully out to mis- band,
That would answer his call from the distance
From every point OF the land.
have washed In the sands of the rivers
For treasures OF Iiches untold
And mined in the guIches and canyons
For grains of the bright shining gold.
have heard the shriIl scream of the panther
In the wilds of its own native home,
AS he proWled round our camp in the dark
ness
Or DER mountain and valley did roam.
I.have heard the low whistle of Indians
As they slgnaled from valley to hill
In their search Tor some miner unguarded
Whom they sought to rob or to kill.
I have seen the great ugly grizzly
In mountain and valley and plain,
And whenever We seen his rough visage
1t was ugly-and always the same.
I have plowed in the fields for a harvest,
And toiled in the heat of the sun,
And had nothing lett for my labor
When the harvest and selling were done.
have seen the big pillows OF ocean
Driven high by the fierce flying gale,
While on board there was fear and commo-
AS we drifted without steam or sail.
But at length the storm was abated-
The wa a thing a the at
And, althO' somewhat belated
We arrived in our haven at last.
All along the rough way have travelled
A hand, tho unseen, mas been o er me,
And shielded from harm and from danger
Mid perlls by land and by sea.
Three times have seen the dread visitation
OF cholera, that death-dealing Toe
That came to our land uninvted
And filled it with waiIing and woe
First he came on the *plains. where the air
was the purest,
With no gases from cesspool or drain;
And he laid his cold nand on the strongest
and fairest-
He halted the gold-hunter's train.
In so he came with visit unwelcomed
To this. our fair fcity, SO new;
He called for his victims without pity or
mercy
Fen the sIrong lie relentlessIy slew.
He ragged in our streets in his madness
He breathed his foul breath in the air:
He struck down the strong in their nHnhood-
He spared not the young nor the fair.
He ragged like demon incarnate;
He called at each dwelling and tent;
He fell upon his victims in fury,
TIL his rage was exhausted and spent.
Lastly he came to tcity polluted
With garbage in alley aud lane,
With no system of sewerage or drainage
The ungraded streets were the drains.
He looked In at the homes of the wealthy
His look was the magic OF DEATH
He called at the cot of the tOiter
And poisoned BY puff Of his breath.
twas the angel of wrath spread his pail DER
or the rider that rode the pale horse,
Who slew without mercy or pity,
Without the least sign of remorse.
But he passed by our cottage so humble
Twas the home OF the lowly and poor
AS il the blood of the lamb had been sprinkled
On the Intel and posts OF the door.
Thus a hand, tho unseen, has been shielding.
Mid dangers that lurk by the way
Through pestiience that walketh in darkness
And destruction that wasteth by day.
Three-score and ten are the miles I have
travelled
In the long, weary journey Of life,
But my road has been smoothed and burden
been hghtened
By the help of a fond, loving wife.
Most OF those who started with me in life's
morning
Have fallen along by the way,
And few there are left OF the number
At this, the close OF the day.
The best thing have done in my lifetime,
That has yielded the greatest of JOY.