--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Cole, Lou E. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 21 number: 1 published: 1917-11 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Lou E. Cole, "An Evening Visitor," *Improvement Era* 21, no. 1 (November 1917): 22.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2101unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera2101unse start_page: 22 end_page: 22 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1917-11) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2101unse publication_year: 1917 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1917, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # An Evening Visitor 22 IMPROVEMENT ERA looked so modest and sweet and lovely that my heart went out to her on the spot. "You must not think that she is dawdy in appearance. She is not. Her clothes are very well chosen, and so becoming that she has a stylish air about her. "I am sure she is everything you could wish for in a daugh- ter. To me she is wise and good, and her mind is even more beautiful than her face. "Indeed, she is the lady of my dreams, come true." An Evening Visitor As the bells in yonder steeple was a callin' of the people From the highways an' the byways, to their evenin' hymns an' prayers, — I sorta lay reclinin' for I'd quite recently been dinin', An' I thought I'd like to lose myself to all my worldly cares. As I say, I sat an' kinder dozed an' nodded by the winder, An' I had the queerest dream, I s'pose, a mortal ever had. I dreamed a ghost — — or spirit about so high, or near it, Came an' whispered, "Don't ye know me? I am Pappy's little Cad." "Do not doubt," she whispered gently, an' I listened so intently, As the fairy fingers laid upon my hard an' sunburned hand. "I have longed to come and cheer you, but you knew not I was near you; Oh, give a welcome, Pappy, to your child from Angel land. "Oh, my kind and loving Pappy, Catherine lives and is so happy. She comes to soothe and comfort you in your declining years. Listen! hear the angels singing? Can you hear their voices ringing? They are shouting hallelujahs! They will wipe away your tears. "Ah, I know your heart was broken, when you viewed the marble token, And saw the little grassy mound that grew above the grave; — But I found the pearly river never even made me shiver. You all must cross its border and in its waters lave. "Now, I really must be going, but my Pappy's tears are flowing. Hush! Let me dry them. Now again my Pappy's eyes are bright! I will come to be your pilot, every evening just at twilight I will guide your barque to heaven, safe by angel's holy light!" I put out my hand to {crab it, but it was quicker than a rabbit, An' vanished like a shadder that was flung against the wall. I couldn't keep from cryin', though I swow I kept a-tryin'! "0 Catherin, baby, come to me!" A faint "Good night," that's all! Now you'll say it's past believin', an' my poor ol' brain's receivin' A leetle more of overwork than it can safely bear! But I don't see why they couldn't; if you'd seen it, too, you wouldn't Have doubted it a minit! But it gave me such a scare! Sure; I know it was my baby! An' if she would come again, why, maybe I could muster up the courage to take her in my arms. I would ask her of her mother; an' her curly-headed brother We laid to rest so long ago, when life seemed full of charms. — Yes I know my heart is lighter, an' my dim ol' eyes grow brighter "When I think of them all livin', in the land beyond the tomb; An', I vow! It makes me happy, havin' angels call me Pappy! How I'll hail the joyous mornin' when they come to take me home. Lou E. Cole, Cowboy Poet.