So fainting Nature maketh her complaint

Bitter, unheard, save by that silent moan

That sometimes comes of sad, pining, dying look.

I pity her! She y.eldeth to her fate so loth and slow, 'Mid blasted hopes, and grief so hard to brook:The depth of her distress, ah! who can know?

No rain! No rain! A cloudless, flaming sky;
And pulsing gales the heated air hur! free,
Hot as breathings of furnace flame, hard by-
A burning, blighting, fluctuating sea.

The dying maize is withered, burned and browned--
Barren of ear--and other grains, the boast
Of this fair land-for richness renowned,
Ripen untimely--immature--almost
Abortive. The clover shrivels, the grass

Is dead; even te noxious weeds--the last
To yield, now droop; the precious flowers--alas!
Are withered, gone; as by the autumn blast;
The forests fade, their falling leaves are shed,
As when untimely, blighting frosts appear.
Huge trees, succumbing, wither, and are dead;
And all the woodlands now look sad and sere.

No rain! No rain! Still hot and scorching rays
Of glaring suns are pouring far and near,
Heating intensely all these summer days.

The shade, even, is hot, dusty, and drear,
And quite intolerable. The birds move

Timidly by-cautious, as if some fate
Awaited them; songless, as if some love

Had perished-as mourning a missing mate.
The pastures, once so green, are brown and bare,
And restless, hungry herds and flocks now roam-
Craving some slaking stream, or verdure, where
They yet may feed, and 'scape impending doom.
The pools are like the sea-bed when the rod
Of Moses was stretched, the waters up-piled,
The tide assuaging, and the host, dry shod,

Went over on ground bare as desert wild;
So men may walk dry-shod where waters lay

In lakelets, or coursed in creek-beds, now indeed

Desert everywhere, go whither we may;

For all these beds are crisp, where flames may feed.

"God shutteth up heaven that there be no rain." Lo! He saith, "I have withholden from you

The rain;" and men, rather than complain,

Meekly ponder; stricken with fear, they view

The desolation, and, trembling, aghast,

They cry, "How long; how long; O God, how long! And wherefore?" Self-reliant, have we cast

No look of dependence toward God? Too strong,
Deeming ourselves to seek for help, too wise

To ask for wisdom, or, when blessed beyond
Our craving too unmindful still to prize,
Too ungratetul for thankfulness, the bond

Of dependence, of love, and gratitude

Gainsaid? Have we, as Commonwealth and men, Made league with sin?" Have we not understood That God is displeased with wrong? and that when, Forgetting Him, the rich oppress the poor,

And trusted men, sworn to the common weal, Legalize sin, justice and right ignore,

Place the stamp of approval and high seal

Of State on crime, disgrace and woe,

Then anger Divine will burn; and judgment

Will fall, such as the guilty wont to know,
Endured of old, by God in justice sent.

Hush! Hark! O joy! "There is a sound of rain!"
Restraining wrath, and on the innocent
(Who sometimes seem to share the common train
Of evils consequent on Sin when vent
The flames of wrath) showing pity, our God

Remembers us remembers His own Word,
That "Seed-time and harvest shall be." His rod
Is turned aside and His compassion stirred-
Listen! Behold! It rains! It rains! It rains!
Thank God! Thank God for rain! Yea, he yet hears
The cries of His people: there still remains

Favor, and His answer dispels their fears; For Lo! He hath said, "Ask of the Lord rain,

In the time of the latter rain; and the Lord

Shall make bright clouds, and so shall refrain
From His purpose, and showers of rain afford,"

Kindly to every one grass in the field.

E'en now the pastures smile, and the flocks are glad;

There is a promise of increase in yield

Of grains from yesterday's portention sad;

The rain also filleth the pools;" the rills

Sing on their way; the birds now cheeful seem,

And their commingling melody quite fills
Their homes. The fields with beauty gleam;

"God visiteth and watereth the earth,

And maketh it soft with showers," its parched crust
Mellows again, the quickening germs take birth;
Nature again revives, and men have joy and trust;
And yet there linger traces of God's frown;—

O Beware! and in His favor remain,

Who requiteth wrong. Be thankful! Bow down!
"And let all fear the Lord who giveth rain."

August 20, 1894.

DUBUQUE IN EARLY TIMES.1

BY ELIPHALET PRICE.

ก

URING the early settlement of the Blackhawk Purchase, there were many scenes expressive of the progress of civilization, patriotism, and christianity that transpired at Dubuque before in any other part of the country now known as the State of Iowa. Of some of these scenes we propose to speak only in a chronological sense, while others we shall allude to with that historical brevity which will enable us to preserve the panoramic design of this sketch.

To begin with the progress of civilization, we will state that the first white man hung in Iowa in a christian-like manner was Patrick O'Connor, at Dubuque, in June, 1834. The first murder committed in Iowa that rose to the dignity of commanding public attention was the killing of George O'Kief, at Dubuque, in May, 1834. The first white man publicly horsewhipped in Iowa by a woman was a resident of Dubuque. The whipping took place on Main street in the vicinity of the ground now occupied by the postoffice, in September, 1854. The whip was applied by Miss until Mr.

agreed to deliver up her gold watch-which he did in a polite and gentlemanly manner. The man who first unfurled

and flung to the breeze the Star-Spangled Banner in Iowa was an Irishman by the name of Nicholas Carrol, living in the vicinity of Dubuque. The flag was run up soon after 12 o'clock on the morning of the 4th of July, 1834. Mr. Carrol contracted with us for this flag, and paid us the sum of ten dollars the contract price. The flag was made under our direction, and superintended by a black woman, who was a slave. The first runaway match in Iowa for matrimonial purposes took place at Dubuque, in September, 1835. It was censured at the time by a few married women of the village, who had forgotten that there was a time when they would have jumped out of a three-story window or paddled themselves across the Mississippi in their sun-bonnets to follow the youth they loved, had any person attempted to annul their plighted vows. The runaways were both young. The young lady had been raised up on the frontier, and was regarded as being very pretty. She was a wild, laughing, dashing romp, with flowing curls, and marched the young men of the mines to the right or left, as pleased her fancy. She had, but a short time previously, reluctantly embarked in a matrimonial alliance under the direction of her parents, and was being duly domesticated as the wife of one who was greatly her senior in years. Her husband had retired to rest on the evening she left him, and was lulled to sleep by the melody of her voice, as she carolled forth, in wild, bewitching strains, the Scottish ballad, "Coming Through the Rye":

"There is a lad I know full weel,

I dearly love mysel';

But what his name, or where his hame,

I dinna choose to tell.

Every lassie has her laddie;

None, they say, have I;

And yet there's one-- (I hear his step)—

I'm off, old chap-good bye."

The first church or house devoted to the worship of God in Iowa was erected at Dubuque, August, 1834.

About the first of August, 1834, we, with some five or six

other young men, were assisting Mr. Davis Grafford to raise one corner of his log house out of the cellar, into which it had fallen. While thus engaged, Mr. Johnson, an old man who was much respected by the citizens of Dubuque, and who was known to be a member of the Methodist denomination, came up and asked if we would subscribe something toward the building of a church-and went on to describe the size of the building, and to say that it was to be used for a school house also. One of the young men said he would give a dollar towards building a gambling house, but nothing for a church. Johnson, who had but one eye, had on a broad-brimmed hat, greasy and much worn; his beard was apparently of a week's growth, and he was accompanied by a swarm of flies, which when he stood still, settled down upon the legs of his pantaloons and the arms of his coat, to luxuriate upon the molasses and other grocery-store sweets that glistened upon these parts of his wardrobe. Throwing his head and person back so as to enable him to fix his one-eyed gaze upon us from beneath the broad rim of his hat that lopped down in front, he observed, ́ with a smile on his countenance, and in a mild and pleasant tone of voice:

"You are all young men, who, I have no doubt, have been raised by Christian parents. Many of you may live to raise families in the Purchase;' and if such should be the case, I am confident that none of you will blush when you tell your children that you helped to build the first church in the Black Hawk Purchase."

For two or three minutes nothing was said upon either side, when the young man who proposed to aid in the building of a gambling house, observed, "Old hoss, here's a dollar."

All the others gave from fifty cents to a dollar. We paid seventy-five cents, being all the money we had. No early scene in the history of Dubuque that passed under our personal observation has imprinted itself upon our mind so vividly as this.

The first church quarrel that took place in Iowa occurred at