The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1899-06-04

vantages In the way of birth, wealth and
education, she developed her native abil-
ity amid great trials, hardships and sor-
rows She was born in Coopertown, ".
Y. on May II. 1927. She was the daughter
of calico printer named Doran. When
she was seven years old she began her
career of toll in factory, Al the educa-
ton she received was the ability to read.
STUPID ID HER FAMILY.
Among the recoilections of her child
hood. says biographer. none is more
vivid than that Of little old garrett
with Its strings Of dried apples hanging
from the rafters, amid it's packages of
seeds and fragrant herbs-whose rubbish
or papers, pamphlets and yellow leaved
books, left by q former occupant of the
house, were her greatest earthly treas
ures and delight. Here she would hide
alone. and. as she sat by the small low
window. porting over some precious vol
ume the hours flew by unheeded. until
the mothers Gliding voice recalled the
young dreamer to her neglected work"
When she was eighteen years old she
married an Englishman named Joseph
HoWarth, who was q calico printer. The
couple went to Trenton to live. After
modern inventions had supplanted the old
methods Of calico printing Mr.. Howarth
found himself out of employment He
turned to, the machine shops for work.
The young wife. to obtain sustenance for
the family. which by this time contain
ed several children. learned the trade
of chair Gaming. Then followed the death
of five Of her children in infancy, and
the practical blindness of her husband.
Mrs. Howarth thus was forced to be the
breadwinner of the family
1t was then that the young wife called
into power her latest gifts Of poesy. She
wrote by inspiration, and her Muse
touched the foundations of human ma
ture with its simplicity and tenderness
When L can WRITE" said she, (which
Is not always, I write very rapidly, and
never revise. When the spirit moves me
to write on any particular subject every
thing that I have heard, seen or read
connected with that subject comes fresh
ly to my memory So you see I have
the choice of material. and If my mental
powers had been properly trained I might
have made a respectable writer
COMPOSED AT WAsHTUB.
Her biographer says: Sometimes,
while at the washtub an idea fit for the
robing of verse would come into her
head. Duty said Keep your hands in
the suds. Write pealded the Muse. If
the Muse prevailed, then the washing
upon happy compromise, and took care
to keep near at hand a pencil and a slip
OF paper. When once the idea was caught
the poem would come after the clothes
were on the line
Many of her most beautiful lyrics were
suggested while she was at her washtub
Perhaps you would like to read selec-
lions from the poems which Mrs Ha-
worth composed while at the washtut
| or Gaming chair seats Here Is a part
| Of poem entitled my Soldier Comes
| M More.
Ysl5 mqsfy a heart is light today,
| And bright is many home
| And children dance along the way
| Inc soldier heroes come;
And bands beneath the floral arch
| The gladdeSt music pour
| While beats my heart a funeral march
| My soldier comes no more.
| One morn from him glad tidings came
| JOY to my heart they gave;
| AT night l read my hero's name
Amid the fallen brave.
L know not where he met the foe.
Nor where he sleeps in gore
Enough of woe for me to know
My soldier comes no more.
One day while Mrs Howarth was
washing at tub printers boy came
| to her for some copy" She sat down
verse, when her eyes fell upon an adver-
tisement Of boat which had drifted
away from Its mooring place. She then
wrote quickly q poem entitled ''Adrift,. -
OF which the following is a. selection:
IUE =1se - s~f
It's mounting now on the pillows high,
Now cast In the gulf below
A tiny boat, ptwixt the sea and sky,
Tossed helpless to eand fro
BY a. careless hand was the rope united
And the. little boat set free,
Ana now, at the mercy of wind and tide
1t drifts on the stormy sea.
And thus how oft by the thoughtless
word
Are the cords Of faith united
And the faithful preachers Of the Lord
Are parted from our side,
And the waves of passion DER US roll.
ana the winds Of hate blow free
Alas! for the unbelieving soul
Adr1ft on the stormy sea!
Many literary women of tha corn+rv