[Poem: The Passing of the Backhouse] Page: 1 of 2

                                
STR ONGUUS1LT- On the 'oun tin- vergran, Colorado
In che realms of odern aclieverlent the cosmopottan life has
almost extorrinated the little cottage referred to in the fol-
lowing beautiful poem. In the last for lines the great poet
expresses a fondness for returning to the old methods;  therefore,
we have decided not to be too hasty, and install modern im-
proverients u hre in the mountain, and will continue to use
the little cottage o")here the woodbine twineth" until there is n
more pressing demand for a ball and chain.
"THE PAS Ifl COF' THE BAC L U E"
B  Janes hitcomb Riley
hen memory keeps Cme  company andz moves to smiles or tears
A weater-beaten object looms through the mist of years.
Behind the hose and barn it stood, a half mile or .ore,
rnd hurryin feet a path had Tmade, straight to its swinging doors;
Its architecture was a typo of simple classic artt
tut in the tragedy of life it played a leading part;
and oft the passing traveler drove slow, and heaved a sigh
'- see the modest hired girl slip out with Glances shy.
o had our pose garden that the wcoen loved so well;
I lobVed it too, but better still I loved the stronger sell
<hat filled the even;n; breezes so full of hocly heer,
And told the night-o'ertak ZXntrarp that human  YIT  s eaP.
On lazy August afternoons it :ado a little bower,
o.igatful, whore  ' y gran.sire s t and whiled awr~; an hour,
For t-ere the su iz r morning its very cares entwined,
and berry bushes reddened in the st Ain; soil behind.
All day fat spiders sn their webs to catch the buzzing flies
That flitted to and from the house, where 1a was baCinr pies.
And once a swarm of hornets bold had built a palace there
bi styn   2y usus;ectin a  unt- I .ust vof tell you where;
,hen father tookh a flnin pile- that was a happy day-
e nearly burned the building Up but the hornets left to stay.
Uhen sxumxer 'leer bngan to fade and winter to e r ouse ,
e banked the little building with a heap of hemlock bouchs.
But when the crust was on the snow and the sullen skies were Cray,
In sooth the building was no place ;here one could wish to stay,
o did our duties promptly- there one Purpose swayed the r ind;
-o carriedd not, nor lingered long on rhat ve left behind.
The torture of that icy seat could mke a Spartan sob,
For needs ust sC ,pe the goose-flesh with a'lac rating cob
That from   frost c oru td nail w2s sus:e)odd by a string.
My father w s a f-i ial <inand wasted not a thing.
hen grandpa had to "go out back   and 'ae his morning call,
e td bundle up the der old .ninn ith  uf1er and shawl,
I knew the hole on ich he sat- 'tias ;added all aroezd;
And once I dared to sit there-' tVas all too wide, I found.
11y loins were all too little, and I jack-bifed there to stay;
hy  ad to coac and ,et me out, or I'd passed away.
Then father sai a 'bition was a t ir; that boys should shun,
And I must use the children's hole till childhood days were done.
But still I marvel at the craft that cut t so holes so true;
The baby hole, and the slender hole that fitted sister Sue,
That dear olV country land mar; I trailed around a bit
nan in t .la .ofl lury ny lot has b on to sit;
at ore I die I'll oat the fruit of trees I robbed of yore,
Then seek the shanty ilere     ame is carved upon the door.
I weon the old familiar smell will soothe my faded soul;
I'm n> a man, but nono the less I'll try the children's hole.