"Of course I had joined the church. I was told that I must, and so I did; but I won't tell you what my thoughts were in regard to what I was told to believe, for that's delicate ground. I don't know what your religion is, sir, and I might offend you, and I would n't do so for the world. You see I am an Automaton yet. I'll do just as you want me to. I hate to be so; but, somehow or other, I can't be otherwise. It's my nature.
"You think I'm prosy. I won't say much more, for I see you take out your watch as though you wished I'd stop, that you might go; so I'll close with 'finally,' as I do in preaching.
"Well, then, finally, father died, mother died, Susan run off, and I've become almost discouraged. I have three children to take care of, but they are good children. They do just precisely as I tell them, and won't do anything without asking me whether it's right; and I ask somebody else. They have n't got any minds of their own, any more than I have. They'll do just as I tell them. I've nobody in particular now to tell me what I shall do; so I take everybody's advice, and try to do as everybody wants me to do. I've come to Boston on a visit, and shall go back to-night, if you think best.
"Now I've given you my autobiography. You can do just what you want to with it,—print it, if you like. People, perhaps, will laugh at me when they read it; but perhaps there are other Automatons besides me."
He came to a full stop here; and, as it was getting late, I arose, wished him well, bade him good-by, and left. I had proceeded but a few steps, when I felt a touch on my shoulder, and, turning, found it was the Automaton, who had come to ask me whether I thought he had better go home that night.
TO THE UNKNOWN DONOR OF A BOUQUET.
RICHEST flowers of every hue,
Lightly fringed with evening dew;
Sparkling as from Eden's bowers,
Brightly tinted-beauteous flowers!
Thee I've found, and thee I'll own,
Though from one to me unknown;
Knowing this, that one who'll send
Such a treasure is my friend.
Who hath sent thee?-Flora knows,
For with care she reared the rose.
Lo! here's a name!-it is the key
That will unlock the mystery;
This will tell from whom and why
Thou didst to my presence hie.
Wait-the hand's disguised!-it will
Remain to me a mystery still.
But I'm a "Yankee," and can "guess"
Who wove this flowery, fairy tress.
Yea, more than this, I almost know
Who tied this pretty silken bow,
Whose hand arranged them, and whose taste
Each in such graceful order placed.
Yet, if unknown thou 'dst rather be,
Let me wish this wish for thee:
May'st thou live in joy forever,
Naught from thee true pleasure sever;
From thy heart arise no sigh;
May no tear bedew thine eye.
Joys be many, cares be few,
Smooth the path thou shalt pursue;
And heaven's richest blessings shine
Ever on both thee and thine.
Round thy path may fairest flowers,
As in amaranthine bowers,
Bloom and blossom bright and fair,
Load with sweets the ambient air!
Be thy path with roses strewn,
All thy hours to care unknown;
Sorrow cloud thy pathway never,
Happiness be thine forever.
TO A SISTER IN HEAVEN.
SISTER, in thy spirit home,
Knowest thou my path below?
Knowest thou the steps I roam,
And the devious road I go?
Many years have past since I
Bade thee here a sad farewell;
Many past since thou didst die,
Since I heard thy funeral knell.
Thou didst go when thou wast young;
Scarcely hadst thou oped thine eyes
To the world, and it had flung
Its bright sunshine from the skies,
Ere thy Maker called for thee,
Thou obeyed his high behest;
Then I mourned, yet knew thou 'dst be
Throned on high among the blest.
Gently thou didst fold thy wing,
Gently thou didst sink in sleep;
Birds their evening songs did sing,
And the evening shades did creep
Through the casement, one by one,
Telling of departing day;
Then, thou and the glorious sun
Didst together pass away.
Yet that sun hath rose since then,
And hath brought a joy to me;
Emblem 't is time will be when
Once again I shall see thee,—
See thee in immortal bloom,
Numbered with the ransomed throng,
Where no sorrow sheds its gloom
O'er the heart, or chills the song.
Spirit sister, throned on high,
Now methinks I hear thee speak
From thy home within the sky,
In its accents low and meek.
Thou art saying, "Banish sadness;
God is love,—O, trust him over!
Heaven is filled with joy and gladness-
It shall be thy home forever."
This thou sayest, and thy voice,
Like to none of earth I've heard,
Bids my fainting soul rejoice;
Follow God's reveal‚d word,
Follow that, 't is faithful true;
'Mid the trackless maze of this,
It will guide the pilgrim through
To a world of endless bliss.
Sister, in thy spirit home,
Thou dost know my path below,
Thou dost know the steps I roam,
And the road I fain would go.
If my steps would err from right,
If I'd listen to the wrong,
If I'd close my eyes to light,
Mingle with earth's careless throng:
Then wilt thou with power be nigh;
Power which angel spirits wield,
That temptation may pass by,
Be thou near my soul to shield!
As I close this simple lay,
As I over it do bow,
Sister, thou art round my way,
Thou art standing near me now.