Joaquin Miller

Jake, I done everything for you, and you ain't done nothing for me since I died.

I want a monument bigger than Dave Broderick's with an epitaph in gilt letters by Joaquin Miller.

i can't get into any kind of society till i have em you have no idea how exclusive they are where i am this dutiful son laid down his pencil and affected a stiffly vertical attitude he was all attention anything else to-day he asked rather sneeringly i grieved to state no i don't think of anything special drawled the ghost reflectively i'd like to have an iron fence around it to keep the cows off but i suppose that's included of course and a gravel walk and a lot of abalone shells and fresh posies daily a marble angel or two for company and anything else that will add to your comfort have you any other extremely reasonable request to make of me yes since you mention it i want you to contest my will horse hawes is having hisn contested my fine friend you did not make any will that ain't o no consequence you forged me a good un and contest that with pleasure sir but that will be extra now indulge me in one question you spoke of the society where you reside where do you reside the dutch clock pounded clamorously upon its brazen gong a countless multitude of hours the glowing coals fell like an avalanche through the grate spilling all over the cat who exalted her voice in a squawk like the death-wail of a stuck pig and dashed affrighted through the window a smell of scorching fur pervaded the place and under cover of it the aged spectre walked into the mirror vanishing like a dream End of chapter 5 Chapter 6 of The Friend's Delight by Ambrose Bierce This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.

Recording by April 6090 love's labor lost hoab was a beef who was tired of being courted for his clean smooth skin so he backed through a narrow gateway six or eight times which made his hair stand the wrong way he then went and rubbed his fat sides against a charred log this made him look untidy you never looked worse in your life than hoab did now said he i shall be loved for myself alone i will change my name and hie me to pastures new and all the affection that is then lavished upon me will be pure and disinterested so he strayed off into the woods and came out at old abner davis's ranch The two things Abner valued most were a windmill and a scratching post for hogs.

In fact, I introduced her to Grover Cleveland and-" "Phil Sheridan?" demanded Twain.

"Sheridan, Joaquin Miller, Henry Watterson, and the rest." "We'll get this story pat first," said Mark, shoving the paper over to me.

"Chances are I have it upside down.

Let me have the facts and keep the trimmings for some other day." The facts told the now well-nigh forgotten story that sometime in October 1891, the Archduke John Salvatore of Austria had renounced his title and dignities, had assumed the name of John Orth, bought a four-masted schooner, and as her captain, went sailing the Atlantic and Pacific in company with Jenny Stubel, the operetta star.

But I rail persistently against the civilization that leads its members to accept things they find in books more than the things they think out for themselves.

Joaquin Miller seemed to say a rude and foolish thing when he answered Elbert Hubbard's question, Where are your books? with a curt, To hell with books.

When I want a book, I write one.

And yet he really expressed a deep and profound thought.

We study from books.

We get our ideas from books.

Joaquin Miller's reply to Elbert Hubbard, before quoted, seems to many people to be a foolish remark.

But I see a profound thought in it.

White, Chula Vista.

Joaquin Miller and the Coffin Street.

Dear old Mexico shows her slippered foot, for summer is here.

The fruit trees are in blossom, the roses in bloom.

The dwelling houses are old and dilapidated, and the street narrow and dingy.

Here the men work day after day, and never whistle, talk, or sing as they go at their hewing, painting, and gluing, with long faces as if they were driving nails into their own coffins.

I soon related my discovery to Joaquin Miller, and he went along to see it.

Then he said, "Little Nell, you are a second Columbus.

It was one of the Bahamas, but which one is not certainly known.

Columbus Behind him lay the gray Azores Behind the gates of Hercules Before him not the ghost of shores Before him only shoreless seas The good mate said "Now must we pray For lo the very stars are gone Brave Admiral speak what shall I say?" "Why say sail on sail on and on" My men grow mutinous day by day My men grow ghastly wan and weak The stout mate thought of home a spray Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek "What shall I say brave Admiral say If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" "Why you shall say at break of day Sail on sail on sail on and on" They sailed and sailed as winds might blow Until at last the blanched mate said "Why now not even God would know Should I and all my men fall dead These very winds forget their way For God from these dread seas is gone Now speak brave Admiral speak and say" He said "Sail on sail on and on" They sailed they sailed then spake the mate "This mad sea shows his teeth to-night He lifts his lip he lies in wait With lifted teeth as if to bite Brave Admiral say but one good word What shall we do when hope is gone?" The word is leapt like a leaping sword "Sail on sail on sail on and on" Then pale and worn he kept his deck And peered through darkness ah that night Of all dark nights and then a speck A light a light a light a light It grew a starlit flag unfurled It grew to be time's burst of dawn He gained a world he gave that world Its grandest lesson on sail on Joaquin Miller Columbus reached Spain again on March 15, 1493, and at once sent word of his arrival to Ferdinand and Isabella, who were at Barcelona.

He was summoned to appear before them and was received with triumphal honors.

The king and queen rose at his approach, directed him to seat himself in their presence, and listened with intense interest to his story of the voyage.

It was, as Mark says, "The blind led over again." Mark Twain had the true Midas touch, but the mine of riches he was destined to discover was a mine not of gold or silver, but the mine of intellect and rich human experience.

To the golden era, Mark Twain, like Prentice Mulford and Joaquin Miller, contributed freely, and after a time he became associated with Bret Harte on The Californian.

Harte as editor at twenty dollars a week, and Mark receiving twelve dollars for an article.

Here foregathered that group of brilliant writers of the Pacific Slope, numbering Bret Harte, Mark Twain, Charles Warren Stoddard, Charles Henry Webb, and Prentice Mulford among its celebrities.

It was one of the Bahamas, but which one is not certainly known.

Columbus Behind him lay the gray Azores Behind the gates of Hercules Before him not the ghost of shores Before him only shoreless seas The good mate said, Now must we pray For lo, the very stars are gone Brave admiral, speak, what shall I say? Why say, Sail on, sail on, and on My men grow mutinous day by day My men grow ghastly wan and weak The stout mate thought of home, a spray Of salt wave washed his swarthy teak What shall I say, brave admiral, say If we sight naught but seas at dawn? Why you shall say at break of day Sail on, sail on, sail on and on They sailed and sailed as winds might blow Until at last the blanched mate said Why now not even God would know Should I and all my men fall dead These very winds forget their way For God from these dread seas is gone Now speak, brave admiral, speak and say He said, Sail on, sail on and on They sailed, they sailed, then spake the mate This mad sea shows his teeth tonight He lifts his lip, he lies in wait With lifted teeth as if to bite Brave admiral, say but one good word What shall we do when hope is gone? The word is left like a leaping sword Sail on, sail on, sail on and on Then pale and worn he kept his deck And peered through darkness, ah that night Of all dark nights, and then a speck A light, a light, a light, a light It grew a starlit flag unfurled It grew to be time's burst of dawn He gained a world, he gave that world Its grandest lesson, on, sail on Joaquin Miller Columbus reached Spain again on March 15th, 1493, and at once sent word of his arrival to Ferdinand and Isabella, who were at Barcelona.

He was summoned to appear before them and was received with triumphal honors.

The king and queen rose at his approach, directed him to seat himself in their presence, and listened with intense interest to his story of the voyage.

But I rail persistently against the civilization that leads its members to accept things they find in books more than the things they think out for themselves.

Joaquin Miller seemed to say a rude and foolish thing when he answered Elbert Hubbard's question, Where are your books? with a curt, To hell with books.

When I want a book, I write one.

And yet he really expressed a deep and profound thought.

We study from books.

We get our ideas from books.

Joaquin Miller's reply to Elbert Hubbard, before quoted, seems to many people to be a foolish remark.

But I see a profound thought in it.