ollow thee. Aha, what have
we here? A phial of poison secreted in the stump of this gnarled
oak! I thank thee, auspicious heaven, for this sweet boon! (Drinks
poison.) Farewell, my native land, I die for thee. (Falls and
writhes.) Oh, horror! what if the poison be drugged--no, no--it must
not be--I must die--O Maud--O flag--O my sweet country! I reel, I
cannot see--my heart is bursting--Oh! (Dies.) (Enter troops.)

General Glynne--Aha! My daughter! And Bellville, too! Both dead! How
sad--how mortifying. Convey them to yonder cemetery, and bury them
side by side under the weeping-willow. They were separated in
life--in death let them be united. (Slow curtain.)

During the preliminary campaign of 1884 Field had no end of fun with
what he called the "Logan Lyrics," after this manner:

_LOGAN'S LAMENT

We never speak as we pass by--
Me to Jim Blaine nor him to I;
'Twixt us there floats a cloud of gloom
Since I have found he's got a boom.

We never speak as we pass by,
We simply nod and drop our eye;
Yet I can tell by his strange look
The reason why he writ that book.

We never speak as we pass by;
No more we're bound by friendly tie.
The cause of this is very plain--
He's not for me; he's for Jim Blaine._

As a sequel to the preceding verse, the following touching reminiscence
may be read with interest by those familiar with what befell in the
fall of 1884:

_BAR HARBOR: A REMINISCENCE

Upon the sandy, rock-ribb'd shore
One year ago sat you and I,
And heard the sullen breakers roar,
And saw the stately ships go by;
And wanton ocean breezes fanned
Your cheeks into a ruddy glow,
And I--I pressed your fevered hand--
One year ago.

II

The ocean rose, the mountains fell--
And those fair castles we had reared
Were blighted by the breath of hell,
And every prospect disappeared;
Revenge incarnate overthrew
And wrapped in eternal woe
The mutual, pleasing hopes we knew
One year ago!

III

I sit to-night in sorrow, and
I watch the stately ships go by--
The hand I hold is not your hand--
Alas! 'tis but a ten-spot high!
This is the hardest deal of all--
Oh! why should fate pursue me so,
To mind me of that cruel fall--
One year ago!_

In the senatorial campaign at Springfield, in the winter of 1885, when
General Logan's return to the Senate was threatened by a deadlock in
the Legi