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G. C. OF A., ATLANTIC COAST LINE RAILWAY. E. A. HARPER, 557. J. B, WHITE, 210, G. W. BARNES, 256. E. W. RAWLINS, 309. A. II. LODGE, 256.
W. T. REAMS, 532, J. J. JENNINGA, CHR., 265, J. M. DONLAN, SRC, 314. J. B. WOOTEN, 332.
Be a Good Boy; Good-By.
engineer to blow that whistle after Mike
had been struck.' Pow oft in my dreams I go back to the day
“I presume thot the whistle wore for When I stood at our old wooden gate,
the nixt man on the thrack, sor.' And started to school in full battle array,
“I left_and the widow got all she Well armed with a primer and slate.
asked."-Ex. And as the latch fell i thought myself free,
And gloried, I fear, on the sly, Till I heard a kindly voice that whispered to me: * Be a good boy; good-by."
When the Green Gits Back in the Trees. “Be a good boy; good-by.” It seems
In the Spring when the green gits back in the They have followed me all these years,
trees, They have given a form to my youthful dreams And the sun comes out and stays, And scattered my foolish fears.
And your boots pull on with a good tight squeeze, They have stayed my feet on many a brink,
And you think of your barefoot days; Unseen by blinded eye;
When you ort to work and you want to not For just in time I would pause and think:
And you and your wife agrees “Be a good boy; good-by."
It's time to spade up the garden lot
When the green gits back in the treesOh, brother of mine, in the battle of life,
Well, work is the least of my idees Just starting or nearing its close,
When the green, you know, gits back in the This motto aloft, in the midst of the strife,
Will conquer wherever it goes.
When the green gits back in the trees, and bees But, brother, just honestly try
Is a-buzzin' round agin
Old gait they hum round in;
And the crick's riz, and the breeze
Coaxes the bloom in the old dogwood,
And the green gits back in the trees “Never cross-question an Irishman from
I like, I say, in such scenes as these
The time when the green gits back in the trees. the old sod," advises one of the foremost
-James Whitcomb Riley. railroad attorneys of the age, says the Detroit Free Press. “Even if he does not think of an answer, he will stumble into
Boys, Read This. some bull that will demoralize the court and jury, and whenever a witness tickles a
When we see boys loafing on the streets jury his testimony gains vastly in its influ
and public places we often wonder if they ence.
know that business men are watching “ Yes, I'm speaking from experience. The only witness who ever made me throw
them. In every bank, store, office, there up my hands and leave the court room was
soon will be a place for some boy to fill.
Those who have the management of the a green Irishman.· A section hand had
affairs of that business house will select a been killed by an express train and his widow was suing for damages. I had a
boy in whom they have confidence. When
they select one of these boys they will not good case, but made the mistake of trying
select him for his ability to talk "sassy,' to turn the main witness inside out. “In his quaint way he had 'given a
swear, use slang, smoke cigarettes, or tap graphic description of the fatality, occa
a beer keg. These men have little to say, sionally shedding a tear and calling on the
and some may have a few of these habits saints. Among other things he swore
themselves, but they are looking for boys
who are as near gentlemen in every sense positively that the locomotive whistle was
of the word as they can find, and they are not sounded until after the whole train had passed over his departed friend.
able to give you the character of every boy
Then I thought I had him.
in the town. They are not looking for “See here, McGinnis, said I, 'you ad
rowdies, and when a boy applies for one mit that the whistle blew?'
of these places and is refused, they may “'Yis, sor; it blewed, sor.'
not tell him the reason why they do not “Now, if that whistle sounded in time
want him, but the boy can depend upon it
he has been rated according to his beto give Michael warning, the fact would be in favor of the company, wouldn't it?'
havior. Boys cannot afford to adopt the ** Yis, sor;, and Mike would be tistifyin' rowdies if they ever want to be called to
habit and conversation of the loafers and here this day.' The jury giggled. “Never mind that. You were Mike's
responsible positions.- Tomahawk Leader. friend, and you would like to help his widow out; but just tell me now what MAKE life a ministry of love and it will earthly purpose there could be for the always be worth living.
All contributions to our Correspondence and Technical columns must be in not later than the toth of the month to insure insertion.
Articles must be written on one side of the paper only. Noms de plume may be used, but every ar: ticle must be signed with full name and address of the writer to insure insertion.
We shall be glad to receive articles on any subject of general interest to the fraternity.
All communications are subject to revision or rejection, as the Editor may deem proper,
The Editor does not assume responsibility for the opinions expressed by contributors in this department. C. H. SALMONS, Editor and Manager.
It floats for Justice and for Right,
The Banner We Love.
Land of Wales.
'Tis forty years since masthead high A modest banner kissed the breeze, To float beneath a hostile sky, In all men's view this side the seas, a dozen, like those men of old, To spread the faith their names enrolled. Their creed was meditated long, While toiling under cruel wrong; And in the byways it was first In grim determination nurst; They were the men to die or do, The seed they sowed they nurtured, too; Their fervid lips, with truth aflame, For justice called with loud acclaim; And soon recruits from every state, From May of '63 did date, The birth of a gigantic cause, Which dried the mourner's bitter tears, And won a hemisphere's applause, The Brotherhood of Engineers. The order had its bitter stabs, It quaffed full many a cup of woe, And faced externiinating jabs, Dealt at it by a haughty foe; Those true men bled at every pore; But never gave the struggle o'er; They had to fight with foes within As well as those without, to win; But confident their cause was just, They in it put their sacred trust, And buoyed with hope, they fought the fight, For what they knew was only right. By slow degrees they won their way, Until beneath the God of day The banner floated everywhere All o'er the land in freedom's air; And men who erstwhile fought them hard, Before their creed was understood, Now recognize, with kind regard, Our unstained flag of Brotherhood. How fares it with that flag today, Mastheaded forty years ago? 'Tis star-lit, like the Milky Way, And floating gaily in the glow of loving hearts and yearning eyes, Beneath our dear Columbian skies. And more than forty thousand men Salute it with admiring ken.
INDIANAPOLIS, IND., March 5, 1903.
In the February JOURNAL I went through the little “Land of Wales" with Sister Grand Vice-President of the G. I. A. to the B. of L E. and her plucky little band of singers, and pronounced every one of those big words so dear to a Cambrian heart, including eisteddfod. Was with her, that is of the same mind, at her eisteddfod in the March issue.
Not only the Brother engineers and our wives, but all Americans should glorify in this achievement and victory. But few of the American people realize the accomplishment required unless they are familiar with these annual festivities. As soon as the program is made and the prizes announced the strife is on. The one desire of the several competitors throughout the limited territory is to triumph in excellency; the interest and anxiety of each competitor's friends are always strongly manifested at the contest.
Little Wales must be a beauty to merit the name “Land of Poetry and Song." “Poetry lifts the veil from the beauty of the world which otherwise would be hidden.” (Shelly.) “Music is a moral law. It gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to imagination, a charm to sadness, gayety and life to everything. It is the essence of order and leads to all that is good.” (Plato.) A fairly good translation of the word eisteddfod is, "a competition of Bards."
A favorite song at these contests in this country as well as in the native land is the national anthem, “Hen wlad fy Nhadau," or “Land of My
Fathers.” To a Welshman the words are guages and is easily recognized as identical stirring and full of meaning.
in sound and signification. But the HEN WLAD FY NHADAV.
original speech of man is a matter of Mae hen wlad fy nhadau yn anwyl i mi,
mere conjecture and to us can be of no Gwlad beirdd a chantorion, en wogion o fri; consequence for the best language is that Ei gwrol rhyfelwyr, gwlad garwyr tra mad, by which a person can convey his or her Tros ryddid collasant eu gwaed.
thoughts with the greatest persistency and Hen gymru fynyddig, paradwys y bardd,
ease. May many thoughts of interest and Pop dyffryn, pob clogwyn, i'm golwyg sydd hardd,
encouragement be thus conveyed through Twry deimlad gwladgarol, mor swynol yw si,
the columns of the JOURNAL. Ei nentydd, afonydd, a mi.
A. CYMRO OF Div. II. Os treisiodd y gelyn fy ngwlad dan el droed, Mae hen iaith y Cymry mor fyw ag erioed; Ni luddiwyd yr awen gan erchyll law brad,
Complimentary. Na thelyn berseiniol fy ngwlad.
HAMILTON. ONT., April 6, 1903. CHORUS. Gwlad, gwlad, pleidiol wyf i'm gwlad,
EDITOR JOURNAL: Received the April Tra mor yn fur i'r bur hof bau,
number of the JOURNAL this morning, and O bydded i'r hen-iath barhau.
have just finished reading your beautiful LAND OF MY FATHERS.
description of the life of the coming The land of my Fathers! the land of my choice, Messiah. I never read anything in that The land in which poets and minstrels rejoice; line more interesting, or couched in more The land whose stern warriors were true to the
sublime language. What a graphic piccore, While bleeding for freedom of yore.
ture you have drawn of the “Holy City,"
with its historic surroundings. Especially Mountainous old Cambria, the Eden of bards, Each hill and each valley excite my regards;
striking is the scene from the top of the To the ears of the patriots how charming still Church of the Ascension, as it stretches seems,
out like a mighty panorama; made more The music that flows in her streams.
distinct by the clear atmosphere, which as My country tho' crushed by hostile array,
you say is like a crystal lens. Then your The language of Cambria lives out to this day; description is strengthened and made more The muse has eluded the traitor's foul kuives, The harp of our country survives.
impressive by the clear-cut illustrations in
terspersed through the whole. There is CHORUS. Wales! Wales! favorite land of Wales!
one cheering thought that comes to us While sea her wall may not befall,
amid this scene of desolation--and it is the To mar the old language of Wales.
fact that this once beautiful land shall The Welsh language on paper to those
again shine in all its former glory and that are unable to read it has a most un- splendor. This is the promise which will couth appearance from the number of con- no doubt be fulfilled to the letter before sonants or double letters, such as dd, 11,
the return of the Messiah. ch, ngh, rh, ff, etc., but it must be re- I am sorry that I did not get my Easter marked that the double letters represent poem sent away in time for the April only one sound in the Bardic alphabet JOURNAL. I had forgotten that it came called " Coelbreu y Beirdd.” An out so early in the month. I will, howthusiastic Welshman, and there are many
ever, enclose it and would like to see it. of them in the B. of L. E., will tell you
in the May number of the JOURNAL if you his language was the language of antiquity
have the space to spare. because of its genius and the remarkable
EASTER MORN. regularity of the language, its compre
Hail Easter morning now so bright, hensive powers, its adaptation to poetry,
Shedding thy beams of mellow light, its capability of representing every object
Chasing away the shades of night
From earth afar. of imagination. With its simplicity and accuracy of structure, also taking into con
This Easter morn may all have rest,
May all the sons of toil be blest, sideration that many Welsh words are to
O may we love this day the best be found in almost all the known lan
of all the year.
W. F. STUART.
Let every heart conspire to raise
plenty; the cities that were battered to Our thanks for thee 0 best of days,
pieces by war's dreaded enginery are now For thou art worthy of our praise Till life shall end.
built up with schools and libraries diffus
ing knowledge, churches shedding forth 0, joyful day, thy praise we'll sing;
celestial light, while mills and factories What costly tribute can we bring To plume afresh thy golden wing,
sing and play the songs of thrift. In all Sweet Easter morn.
these changes true humanity has held in
its embrace this land and that land alike, This joyful day bring lilies fair, And every flower of beauty rare,
taking, as it were, an example from dear Till perfume floats upon the air
Nature, which has always kissed the graves In every clime.
of the North and the South alike with her Today He left the rock-hewn bed,
persevering ray of sun and moonbeams. And rose triumphant o'er the dead,
Her robes of verdure or of snow upon the And now He reigns our living head
graves of both are the proof of loving imBefore the throne.
To the old soldier in the associations of Memorial Day.
this day, Forward, march! means: go on
your tearful journey to the graves of your FHILIPSBURG, PA., April 4, 1903.
comrades, with no dissentient, discordant, EDITOR JOURNAL: On this day, while dissatisfied element or sectional prejudice, the old soldiers are formed in line of the but take with you the fairest flowers that procession that go to visit the graves of the woods and meadows will afford, and their fallen comrades, we have been accus- with impartial hand, and hearts of love tomed to hear the command, Forward, and sympathy, lay them on every grave march! given in a soft, calm and quiet whose occupant had courage to devote a manner by the Post Commander. For- life in defense of right as he saw it, no ward, march! These are stirring words. matter if he were right or wrong. He And when submissively obeyed, they tell loved his country, and is entitled to tribthemselves, and have little need of the utes of honor in this respect from all those artifices of rhetoric, for they recount cour- who love theirs more, that this we should age, valor and heroism in every conceiv- consider, that after the grave we are no able way. Forward, march! by the beat longer enemies, but members of one houseof the drum and blast of the bugle, to hold. We all know the story how North thousands of men with turbulent hearts and South fought side by side under one and unconquerable spirits, means that the banner, first as loyal but protesting subhour has come on whose heroic efforts the jects, then as freemen that founded this destiny of the nation depends, and that great nation. But while memories live, on yonder heights where limbs of men, let us not forget while at the graves of our horses, trees, wheels of cannou, pieces of comrades the thousands of mothers whose timber and dust fills the air, the advancing dear boys' graves will never be decorated, enemy is to be met. Forward, march! at because there is no one to tell them to this appointed time has changed its signifi- what spot their affections may cling; or cation, just as the shell-shattered trees, where the solemn sepulcher may be found. the cannon-rifled earth, the torn bastions, Coffinless, the insatiable waves bore them the field plowed by shot and shell, all, down where they fell to the unsearchable have changed their rude sad features. grave of the sea. There are no flowers nor The wild flowers bloom where the deadly garlands for them; no slab to inscribe inissiles hurtled fast and furious; the rifle- their name or epitaph upon-nothing but pits have been smoothed over and their the storm, music of the breezy ripples or pathways covered with moss, creeper and the shrill scream of the sea-gull, along with verdure; the crimsoned soil of the battle- the melancholy roar of the surging waves field has been plowed down and brought lashed by the furious tempest over their back into a smiling place of beauty and secret tomb,
THAD S. KEATING.