SAMUEL HALSTED LOWE.

AMUEL HALSTED LOWE was born Dec.

his early education in the public school there, his later at the Genesee Wesleyan Seminary and College, in Lima, from which he was not graduated on account of ill-health. Five years of his young manhood were spent on a farm in East Kendall, Orleans county, N. Y., and during two winters he taught a country school. Five other years were spent in the ministry of the Methodist church. In 1868 he married Miss Harriet C. Ellis, of Charlotte, and in 1870, became an associate editor on the Rochester Evening Express, retaining that relation six years, and proving himself a versatile, strong writer. In 1876 he retired from the Daily Express, and was thereafter some time engaged upon other papers in Rochester and Buffalo. In 1879 he became one of the founders of the Rochester Morning Herald, and its editor-in-chief, continuing one of its proprietors and its chief editor until 1892, when he and all his associates, with one exception, sold out their interests and retired. His long service in this connection fully demonstrated and developed his powers as a thinker and writer. His poetic efforts have been for special occasions chiefly the most notable of these being at the dedication of the Soldiers' Monument in Rochester on Memorial Day, 1892, when President Harrison and many other distinguished visitors were present. His poem then delivered before a great concourse of people was one of the finest tributes to our country's defenders, living and dead, which their bravery and their patriotism have ever inspired, and won for him cordial recognition and warm praise. A. H. H.

THE CITY'S PROPHECY.

SWEET June! O fairest of thy race,
Thy breath, fragrant as love
Perfumed by crimson lips, thy face
Bright as the skies above,
Are rich with fruitage of bright days,
And nights of stars and moon,
That weave their joys in golden rays;
O Summer's sweetest boon!

Sweet June! When long ago, thy smile
These hills and streams entranced,
When through the leafy forest aisle
The Indian's arrow glanced,

Thy beauty then, as now, inspired

The lark's and robin's strain, While, in the woodland's shade retired, The peaceful deer were lain.

The June was fair of long ago,

And fair our June to-day; Nor less of beauty will she show In years now far away. For through her veins eternal youth In ruddy currents flows; Nor ere shall age, nor ere shall ruth Her beauty's cycle close.

Where Genesee's bright waters run Past grove and meadow green, Where fifty years ago the sun,

No city's pride had seen,

Now stand the mansion and the mart,
And sounds the muffled roar
Of forge, of carriage and of cart,

And trade's benignant war.

The forest wold no longer hides The river's oozy shore,

Nor here the fox or wolf abides,

Nor eagles skyward soar.

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The lofty trees whose foliage crowns
With monarch's pride they bore,
Like monarchs, stung by fortune's frowns,
Are gone forevermore.

No longer now the Indian maid
Directs her light canoe

Where, misty front the caverned glade,
The river phantom grew.

No more the red braves glide along,
Amid the high bank's gloom,
And raise their war-cry shrill and strong,
Foretelling foeman's doom.

A queenly city now is here,

Our joy, our hope, our pride,

So fair her charms, her smile so dear,
We tarry by her side,

And so her growing beauty watch,
As years their tribute pay,
While in their ringing tone we catch
These words of prophecy :

When a hundred years are fled,
When the living now are dead,
When a hundred sunny years,
Have outshone our smiles and tears
Sons and daughters will I greet-
Sons and daughters, these so sweet,

They so strong and wise and pure, That my throne shall still endure.

Far and wide o'er Monroe's lands,
On Ontario's sparkling sands,
Where the blue hills southward lie,
Westward, eastward, there and nigh,
Shall my scepter's sway be known,
Shall my children, mighty grown,
Build their homes, their arts pursue,
Sing their songs, your songs renew.

There will walk these streets a race
Loving freedom, and the grace
That o'er sculptured marble plays,
Glorifies the canvas' ray,

Thrills the soul with music's spell;
The poet's verse, a silver bell,
With the orator's high speech,
Shall the hearts of thousands reach.

Tears may flow and hearts may break
For dear love and pity's sake,
Roses fade and lips grow dumb,
Life's high purposes grow numb;
Yet, I ween, in those far days
Kinder words and gentler ways,
In their homes and on the street,
Shall your children's children greet.

Those deep, prophetic tones are hushed,
And night, with jeweled hand,
Hath from the fevered foreheads brushed
The day's ill brooded band

Of wrinkled cares and fears. Now come
Sweet sleep and gentle dreams-
The future and the present one,
As each the other seems.

ON THE MARRIAGE OF A NIECE.

DEAR girl on this thy bridal day,

Though sunless the November sky, The light of home with cheerful ray, Flashes and burns in every eye.

We think of thee as years ago,
With dancing feet and roguish smile,
With merry heart and face aglow,
Thou didst our graver hearts beguile.

As maiden fair we think of thee,

With April moods, demure or gay, As pure and bright as sweet and free, As robins song on April day.

How oft within these dear home walls, We've laughed until the rafters rang, How fondly memory now recalls,

The tales we told, the songs we sang.

But now the parting hour has come;

The rite that makes thee wife is done; The child, the maiden, woman grown, Goes forth to cheer another home.

To him thy word is pledged we give
A treasure richer far than gold;
A heart in which no guile can live,
A love that never will grow cold.

As life's strange, varied path ye tread,
Hand clasped in hand, two hearts as one,
May skies of beauty shine o'erhead,

And sweet content your fortunes crown.

Fear not, though darkest storm and night May sometimes gather o'er your way! Trust Him whose love and arm of might Will deepest darkness turn to day.

MEMORY.

As, grateful, one may turn from princely halls
To where the embers on his hearthstone glow,
So fain our hearts would listen to the calls
Of mem'ry's bells that chime, so far and low,
In gentle tones of those who said farewell
To win a patriot's meed or soldier's grave,
And bearing high our starry banner, fell,
That o'er their land its folds might ever wave.
No need reveille's stirring throb to wake
Our sleeping dead to memory's vision clear,
No need the roll call that they answer make,
In wonted tones, of names we hold so dear.
Oh comrades of our youth, your forms we see
Shrined in the glowing battle-light of yore;
Full many a field attests your bravery
And shines with glory on the flags ye bore.
-Dedication Poem.

CHARLES MULFORD ROBINSON.

CH

HARLES MULFORD ROBINSON was born
April 30th, 1869, in Ramapo, N. Y.

On both his father's and mother's side he came of old Puritan families, in which there have been many distinguished men and women. When he was two years old his parents removed to Rochester, and that city has since been his home. Prepared for college in private schools, he was graduated from the University of Rochester in the class of 1891. In college he was class poet, and at commencement, poet of class day. He has contributed verse to local papers, served as one of the editors of the University's annual, has written songs for the "Psi Upsilon Song Book," and was, during his college course, the author of two operas, for both of which original music was composed. One was produced with great success by the students; and the other, "Ye Gods and Goddesses," presented by young society people, aroused wide enthusiasm. After being graduated with honorable mentions, Mr. Robinson spent some months in European travel. On his return he was offered a position on the staff of the Post-Express, and for some time past has been engaged in editorial work on that paper.

A BALLAD OF THE SEA.

C. E. F.

"FAIR West wind when you leave me, Blowing over the sea,

Sing him my song of evening,

Bid him 'Good Night' for me;

"Tell him I held you an instant Tight in my loving arms, Gave you a kiss, insistant,

Though you defied my charms;

"Fill out his sails then dear one, With soft breath calm the sea, Whisper my prayers and fearing

He'll know that you came from me."

Swiftly seaward sped the love frought breeze, Fast and faster still it blew,

Till the great blue waves were white with foam Where its flying feet broke through.

And the vessel bearing the loved one
Scudded swift before the gale,

With its decks all cleared for solemn rites,
And the wind behind its sail.

But the captain ordered, 'all sails down,' And the wind no longer blew

It had caught the ship, and calmed the sea, And had other work to do.

And the captain ordered, ‘Hands on deck,'
And the anchor dropped at eve.
So the anchor dropped at set of sun,
When the stars its watch relieve.

Like a phantom ship the vessel lay
In the quiet, twilight sea;

And the stars bent low o'er sailless yards
Which the waves rocked dreamily.

At the starboard rail the sailors met

And the captain said a prayer, For the dear one's form was cold and still, Though the wind still tossed his hair;

And they let him down with sailors' tears, For the sea's the sailors' grave,

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While the wind still moaned, or whispered low, Love thoughts to the shrouding wave.

GRANDMOTHER'S BALL DRESS.

TOUCH it with dainty fingers, lift it with loving care; Shake out the soft folds gently, fearing the lace may tear.

Long has it slept forgotten-grandmother's party dress,

Dreaming of balls and weddings, dreaming her old

success.

Notice the flowers embroidered over the thin white skirt;

Somebody's hands were tireless, somebody's eyes were hurt.

Short is the waist-a hand's breadth, yet it is figured too.

How many stopped to notice,-grandfather, say, did you?

Grandfather does not answer, portraits can only see. Surely the drees remembers whether 'twas that night he

Danced with the girl who wore it, whispered his love, and heard

Just a faint breath in answer, wonderful little word!

Look, even now this whisper flutters the film of lace.

Sees it in us the sequel to grandfather's earnest face? That is too much to ask it; what can a wee dress know

Save that a sweet girl wore it, once in the long ago?

HELP ME TO TRUST THEE.

HELP me to trust Thee all the journey through, Though dark the way and desolate and dreary, 'Tis the same path Thy aching feet once knew The same life ills of which Thou wert aweary.

Help me to trust Thee, oh my Saviour, dear. Forgive this doubting heart its backward clinging, Forgetfulness that Thou dost know the end; Too long my voice has ceased its tuneful singing With Thy blest will, oh make its notes to blend. Help me to trust Thee, oh my Saviour, dear. Help me to trust Thee, wheresoever led By Thy kind hand no evil can befall, For all the devious paths Thy children tread Lead to the gateways in the Jasper wall.

Help me to trust Thee, oh my Saviour, dear. Help me to trust Thee, till these stumbling feet That oft have wandered from the narrow way, Safely shall stand upon the golden street Of the bright city of eternal day.

Help me to trust Thee, oh my Saviour, dear.

THE GODS.

JOVE's thunder on Olympus height

Is hushed forevermore,
And Juno's days of queenly might
On Ida's mount are o'er.

Old Neptune in his ocean caves
In peaceful slumber lies;
The sea-nymphs far beneath the waves
Hear not their murmuring cries.
Grim Vulcan's forge is silent now

The roaring fires are dead;

He wields no more the helmet brave
To shield a warrior's head.
Mars seeks no more the battle-fields
Where earth-born heroes die;
We only see his fiery glance
Imaged in peaceful sky.
Arch Cupid holds his lordly place

As in the days of old,

He marks the maid of fairest face,
The youth of courage bold.
His quiver holds the arrows still
To pierce the hardest heart;
He takes sure aim where'er he will,
And sends his deadly dart.