This is the path their footsteps press'd,
Out of the East-land into the West,
Journeying onward, day by day,

To a land that was hundreds of miles away.

He was a genuine son of the soil,
Horny-handed and used to toil;

Broad his shoulders, and brown his face;
Strength, and vigor, and manly grace
Marked his movements; his dress was rough,
And made of the strongest homespun stuff,
Woven from threads that his mother spun,
From the carded fleece, for her favorite son;
Fashioned from cloth that his sister wove,
In the far-off home of his youth and love.
This was the very suit he wore

Only a few short weeks before,
When the woman who walks by his side,
Took his hand and became his bride.
She was a farmer's girl, buxom and fair,
Willing his home and his fortune to share;
Wise, and modest, and patient, and good,
Strong in the strength of her womanhood:
Ready to follow him anywhere,

And help him the burden of life to bear.
Thus they travel together in quest
Of a happy home in the distant West.
All their dower and earthly hoard
Safe in a big, red wagon was stored,
Under a canvas, broad and white-
This their shelter by day and night.
Drawing a wagon, perchance, was a yoke
Of sleepy oxen-a team well broke

To "Gee!" or " Haw!" when the master spoke,
To" Back!" or "G'long!" and always know
Enough to halt at the sound of "Whoa!"

And this is the way the settlers went

Through hamlet, and town, and settlement.

One bright morning at last they came

Full in sight of their little "claim'

Fertile acres as ever lay

Out of doors, in the light of day;

And the bright spot seemed to the woman's eyes

A very vision of paradise.

There, by the edge of the dense, dark wood,

Was the little cabin, homely and rude,

Built by the husband's ready hands,

And overlooking the pleasant lands.

Safe in the welcome haven at last,

The "prairie schooner" her anchor cast-
Lay at her moorings just before
The little log cabin's open door;
While, freed from the yoke, the cattle pass
To their ev'ning feast in the tender grass;
And the household goods, a meagre store,
Lie scattered about on the puncheon floor;
Water, anon, from the spring is brought,
And an armful of seasoned fuel sought
Wherewith to kindle a blazing fire,

And the yellow flames rise high, and higher

In the chimney's throat, and the black pot swings On the long, dark crane, and the tea-kettle sings

Its cheery song. And the bright young wife

Begins the work of her frontier life;
Spreads the board for her plain repast,
And when the darkness shuts in at last,
Weary and drowsy, repairs to her rest-
The queen of a home in the glorious West!

Brightly the morn of the morrow broke
In the rosy East, and the twain awoke,
And gazed without on the new, strange land--
Bright and beautiful, broad and grand!

And the wide expanse of the flow'r-gem'd sod
Seemed fair as the garden where Adam trod,
When he and Eve, the primal pair,
Went into the apple-business there.
Clear, in the forest near by, they heard
Song of sparrow and brown mocking bird;
Chirp of robin, and twitter of wren,
And a boisterous bob-o-link, now and then,
Caroling, chorusing, going it strong,
And flooding the air with a torrent of song.
They breathed the sweet odors wafted up
From many a blossom's honey cup;
Saw that the sky was cloudless and blue,
Saw that the silver, scintillant dew
Had strung its rosary, bead by bead,
On grass-blade, floweret, bush and weed,
Brighter than diamonds. But, listen! these
Were only something to cheer and please-
Were only the blessings, goodly and fair,
That came just ahead of trouble and care.
Winter was hurrying on apace;

Work was needed all over the place-
Work was needed to make their home

Snug and warm, ere the storms should come.
Stables and sheds to shelter the stock-
Though little their wealth in herd or flock.
And so the settler labored away,
Made long ricks of the prairie hay,
Hauled huge logs for the winter fire,
Toiled with an energy naught could tire;
And his good wife, though often alone,
Never was heard to murmur or moan,
Or sigh for a brighter, happier lot,
Or a fairer home than the log-built cot.
Their nearest neighbor was miles away,
And seldom a stranger chanced to stray
To the cabin door, who might require
Rest, and shelter, and food, and fire;
But if he came-Ah! who can doubt?—
He found the latch-string always out,

And a welcome within from the youthful pair,

And old-time hospitality there.

Even the red-skins prowling around

Only kindness and friendship found.

Swiftly the Autumn with woods aflame

With red leaves went, and the Winter came.
Seldom the wife and her husband heard
From friends in the far-off East a word.
Thus the long, cold Winter was passed,
And the cheerful Spring returned at last;
The song-birds caroled on bush and bough,
And the man went forth with team and plow;
Traced dark lines in the prairie mould,
For the Summer to print in letters of gold;
And, up with the sun, in the glorious morn,
He scattered the wheat, and planted the corn.

And the harvest came, though the yield was small,
And the bearded wheat was garnered all,
And the corn grew ripe and was gathered in,
And safely sheltered in crib and bin.
The settler thrives, and his cattle increase,
His wealth grows larger in flock and fleece,
In spite of the lost cow gone astray,

And the hungry wolves that sometimes prey
Upon the sheep. And other men come

And build their cabins, and make their homes.
High from their chimneys the smoke-wreaths rise,
Blue, to blend with the blue of the skies,

In sight of the little log-cabin; but still,

It was miles and miles to the nearest mill;
And the doctor lives so far away

That the patient got well, the old folks say,
Before he could come, with his powder and pills,
And his saddle-bags-from over the hills.

Other years in their coming brought
Growth and wealth as the settlers wrought-
Blessings and comforts, and babies came,
Each year adding another name

Of daughter or son, to the family roll.

The boys were rugged in body and soul,
Honest and true; and the fair young girls

Were precious and pure as a cluster of pearls.
Fingers taper and white as wax,

Eyes as blue as the bloom of the flax,

Or brown, or hazel, or black as jet

Bright as the brightest you ever have met.
School-houses rose, and the settlers saw

The reign of social order and law;

Churches were built, and sermon, and psalm,
And organ peal, broke the Sabbath calm;
Lawyers came, also, and politics,

And demagogues, with their dirty tricks,

Worming and twisting, and turning their coats,
To gull the people and catch their votes.
By-and-by comes that all-conquering force,
Steam, and the neigh of the iron horse,
Waking the echoes wherever he goes,

And making the wilderness bloom like the rose.
Some of the men of that olden time
Listen to-day to my idle rhyme;

Some of the women who found their "sphere"
In life as the wife of the Pioneer,

Have met with their old-time neighbors here.

Blessings be showered on them ever and aye,
As swiftly the days and the years hurry by;
Honor and fortune their footsteps attend,
And comfort and peace, till their pilgrimage end.
These are the toilers who moulded a state!

These are the heroes who triumphed o'er fate!

These are the soldiers who laughed at defeat!

This is the army that would not retreat!

These are the crusaders, sturdy and strong,
Worthy of places in story and song!

These the "Old Settlers" who came to the West!
Your fathers and mothers: Oh, give them the best

Of all the good gifts it's yours to bestow,

In the fair garden state where the broad rivers flow,
And cherish and honor, in all coming years,
Every name on the roll of the brave Pioneers!

After the reading of this poem, T. T. Jacobs, a settler of 1855, and a gentlemen of worth and merit, was called out for a speech, but, more poet than orator, he preferred to read a poem. This poem covered the growth and prosperity of Mount Carroll, as well as nearly all its business avocations, and was considered so applicable that a copy of it was requested to be spread upon the journals of the association.

After the reading of this poem, Mr. Monroe Bailey was called out, and,