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Home of Montgomery! who here
The battles of fair Freedom fought,
Sacred the soil, and dearly bought

By blood of her brave men, who thought
Their liberty as life is dear.

OSAWANDA.

'Twas on the Little Osage, just below
The point at which the river, winding slow,
Touches the belt of rocky timber hills
Which stretching far away to westward fills
Out the landscape of prairie grove and glade.
This touched with morning light and passing shade
Made pictures fairer than a painter's dream,
Through which the ready rays of Nature gleam.
Here happy June with sweetly-scented breeze
Had decked the earth in green, and blooming trees.
Lit up the scene, and set with vernal flame
The flow'ry picture in a leafy frame.
Here Genius bold, aspiring to be great,

Drops the tired brush, and Nature strikes in hate
The hand of him who tries to imitate.

To such a spot as this in Kansas came

Young Rubin: Northern blood, and sturdy frame Inured to toil, a will for any fate.

Thus stood a living factor of a State

To be, which prophesied by such as him
Should come, -not in the ages dim,

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But soon,

and panoplied in Freedom's dower

Of righteousness, and girt about with power.
First, here into this valley fair he came,

The first to mark the bound' ries of his claim,—
First to select the spot and cabin build,

With soul elate, of fairy fancies filled.
Then in his many wakeful dreams by day,
Which ran like some unpastured colt at play,
While to his axe the nodding trees would bow,
Or while a-field and plodding at the plow,
He caught the vision of a blissful home,-

A home where young and happy wife should

come,

Where barns were full and plenty cheered the board
And where his title deed should own him lord.
'Twas thus he mused and thus he pictured all,
And hung the picture on his cabin wall.
Such men are in demand and win their way
To wealth and power, to love and song, and play
With Fate as reckless as a truant boy

O'erleaps the rules of school, or laughs for joy.
Nor are they sought in vain. The neighbor goes
To such in faith, and breathes his painful woes
Or pleasures soft into the willing ear,
And finds a friend who ne'er disdains to hear.
There the glad soul may list to pleasure's lay
And joyous wile the happy hours away:
Or aching heart may plaint its doleful psalm

Of life, and find the ready unctuous balm Unstinted poured on wounds by one who shares His weary ways, and mournful, cumbrous cares:Or here, when hearts awake the conscious flame Of mated love, responsive to the heavenly name, May feel the fervor and the power divine

Of Home, where all the cares and bliss of life combine.

'Twas June, as I have said before,

And somehow Rubin's thoughts would turn To love, the thought would Rubin spurn. Untaught of Love, how could he learn Without some angel at his door

To light this candle of the soul?

But there would come to him, untaught, The vision of some hallow'd thought; Some fairy form by fancy caught, Which stayed beyond the will's control.

Then would he heave the heavy sigh,
As in that vision he could trace
The rounded form, the living grace,
The luster of a shining face,
The flowing hair and flashing eye.

Thus with some book of modern lore,
He musing sat, beneath a high
Old oak, whose shadow, creeping by,
Seemed to the stranger drawing nigh
To point a welcome to his door.

The stupid leaves he fumbled o'er,

But dallied with Love's dream of old,His mind the pages could not hold; And when he raised his eyes, behold! She stood before his cabin door.

Dumb and transfixed he sat, while he
Beheld his fairest thought fulfilled.
Oh! for the ready brush of skilled
Hogarth, to catch the scene that thrilled
His trembling spirit's phantasy.

Glossy and black as raven's wing,

Was her bounteous flowing hair.

Down o'er her neck and shoulders fair, It softly fell, that these might share The woman's wealth the Graces bring.

Here fell on his enraptured sight
The full-orbed glory of her eyes;
Whose modest lids in soft surprise

Half hid the blue which mocked the skies.

Her clustering teeth, faultless and white,

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