James Whitcomb Riley

Edwin Markham, English.

James W. Riley, Netherlander-English.

Carl Sandburg, Swede.

Edna St. Vincent Millay, English-French.

He died February 22, 1896, at his home in North Carolina, surrounded by his family.

James Whitcomb Riley, the Hoosier poet, was for many years a close personal friend of the dead humorist.

When informed of Nye's death, he said Especially favored as for years I have been with close personal acquaintance and association with Mr. Nye, his going away fills me with selfishness of grief that finds a mute rebuke in my every memory of him.

He was unselfish wholly, and I am brokenhearted recalling the always patient strength and gentleness of this true man, the unfailing hope and cheer and faith of his child heart, his noble and heroic life, and pure devotion to his home, his deep affections, constant dreams, plans, and realizations.

In this school the relative position of the subject and the predicate was not always well taught by the master, but never to mix a metaphor or to confuse a simile was a lesson he firmly fixed in the minds of his pupils.

As a result of this particular training, I may say here that while I do not often mix metaphors, I am to this day almost as ignorant of what is called grammar as Dean Swift, who when he went up to answer for his degree said he could not tell a subject from a predicate, or even James Whitcomb Riley, who said he would not know a nominative if he should meet it on the street.

The best practical lesson in the proper use of at least one grammatical sentence was given to me by my elder brother, not two years older than I.

One day when I said, I done it, you done it, said he, taking me by the shoulder and looking me severely in the face.

from out the roll a woman leaps lightly to her feet a beautiful young woman of twenty she stands there poised defiant gazing at the pale-faced man seated at the table he is not surprised he never was one might have supposed he received all his visitors in this manner well he says in a quiet way a half-smile parting his thin lips the breast of the woman heaves with tumultuous emotion just an instant she speaks and there is no tremor in her tones her voice is low smooth and scarcely audible i am cleopatra the man at the desk lays down his pen leans back and gently nods his head as much as to say indulgently yes my child i hear go on i am cleopatra queen of egypt and i would speak with thee alone she pauses then raising one jewelled arm motions to apollodorus that he shall withdraw with a similar motion the man at the desk signifies the same to his astonished secretary apollodorus went down the long hallway down the stone steps and waited at the outer gate amid the throng of soldiers they questioned him jibed him railed at him but they got no word in reply he waited he waited an hour two and then came a messenger with a note written on a slip of parchment the words ran thus well-beloved doris wenny weedy weaky go fetch my maids also all of our personal belongings as the cities are all only two days from famine so is man's life constantly but a step from dissolution THE MINTAGE BY ELBERT HUBBARD a special occasion once on a day i spoke at the athenaeum new orleans for the young men's hebrew association when they had asked my fee i answered one hundred fifty dollars the reply was we will pay you two hundred it is to be a special occasion a carriage was sent to my hotel for me the jews may be close traders but when it comes to social functions they know what to do the jew is the most generous man in the world even if he can be at times cent per cent as i approached the athenaeum i thought what a beautiful building it was stone and brick solid subdued complete and substantial the lower rooms were used for the hebrew club upstairs stretched the splendid hall as i could tell from the brilliantly lighted windows inside i noticed that the stairways were carpeted with brussels glancing through the wide doorways i beheld an audience of more than two thousand people the great chandeliers sent out a dazzling glory from their crystal and gold at the sides rich tapestries and hangings of velvet covered the windows a beautiful building i said to my old-time friend maurice j fass the secretary of the club he smiled in satisfaction and replied well we seldom let things go by default You have tonight as fine an audience as ever assembled in New Orleans.

we passed down a side hallway and under the stage preparatory to going on the platform in this room below the stage a single electric light shone the place was dark and dingy in singular contrast to the beauty light cleanliness and order just beyond in the corner were tables piled high evidently used for banquets broken furniture and discarded boxes several smart young men in full dress sat on the tables smoking cigarettes one young man said in explanation we were crowded out had to give up our seats to ladies so we are going to sit on the stage the soft blue smoke from the cigarettes seemed to hug close about the lonely electric light i saw the smoke and thought that beside the odour of tobacco i detected the smell of smouldering pine isn't it a trifle smoky here i said to the young man nearest me he laughed at this remark and handed me a cigarette the secretary of the club and i went up the narrow stairs to the stage as we stood there behind the curtain i looked at the pleasant-faced man you didn't detect the odour of burning wood down there did you i asked no but you see the windows are open and there are bonfires outside i suppose I am a fool, I thought, and James Whitcomb Riley was right when he said that the speaker who is about to make his bow to an audience is always so keyed up that at the moment he is incapable of sane thinking.

I excused myself, and walked over to an open window at the back of the stage and looked down.

It must have been forty feet to the stony street beneath.

a carriage was sent to my hotel for me the jews may be close traders but when it comes to social functions they know what to do the jew is the most generous man in the world even if he can be at times cent per cent as i approached the athenaeum i thought what a beautiful building it was stone and brick solid subdued complete and substantial the lower rooms were used for the hebrew club upstairs stretched the splendid hall as i could tell from the brilliantly lighted windows inside i noticed that the stairways were carpeted with brussels glancing through the wide doorways i beheld an audience of more than two thousand people the great chandeliers sent out a dazzling glory from their crystal and gold at the sides rich tapestries and hangings of velvet covered the windows a beautiful building i said to my old-time friend maurice j fass the secretary of the club he smiled in satisfaction and replied well we seldom let things go by default You have tonight as fine an audience as ever assembled in New Orleans.

we passed down a side hallway and under the stage preparatory to going on the platform in this room below the stage a single electric light shone the place was dark and dingy in singular contrast to the beauty light cleanliness and order just beyond in the corner were tables piled high evidently used for banquets broken furniture and discarded boxes several smart young men in full dress sat on the tables smoking cigarettes one young man said in explanation we were crowded out had to give up our seats to ladies so we are going to sit on the stage the soft blue smoke from the cigarettes seemed to hug close about the lonely electric light i saw the smoke and thought that beside the odour of tobacco i detected the smell of smouldering pine isn't it a trifle smoky here i said to the young man nearest me he laughed at this remark and handed me a cigarette the secretary of the club and i went up the narrow stairs to the stage as we stood there behind the curtain i looked at the pleasant-faced man you didn't detect the odour of burning wood down there did you i asked no but you see the windows are open and there are bonfires outside i suppose I am a fool, I thought, and James Whitcomb Riley was right when he said that the speaker who is about to make his bow to an audience is always so keyed up that at the moment he is incapable of sane thinking.

I excused myself, and walked over to an open window at the back of the stage and looked down.

It must have been forty feet to the stony street beneath.

His Trojan treasures were presented to the city of Berlin.

Had Schliemann given his priceless findings to Indianapolis, it would have made that city a sacred mecca for all the Western world, set it apart and caused James Whitcomb Riley to be a mere sideshow, inept, inconsequent, immaterial, and insignificant.

But alas, Indianapolis never knew Schliemann when he lived there.

They thought he was a Dutch grocer.