A vindication of the claim of Alexander M. W. Ball, of Elizabeth, N.J., to the authorship of the poem, Rock me to sleep, mother
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'C '•-' c ■«:^;^ ' c -*:>'■ C C_ C C « c c  --< cc c: ■'^ ' "' --.c «:. <c , <;':cc «^.cc >- - c<. .jc «_■ t c «:. <-< ' " . ( <sc <: cc c cc c c aic <:. Cc «: . c c ■" f C ■««.,. ^ct C_. <-C ' cc «: <c^' f cc -■ -_ > c; C'C ''c C c<C- s «rc<i' cc <> ^i'^.C'C <i'C: - 'tV .-,-C^ C <k-^ C c" -"{' C C Ci'C. ^ c ... C C <i'^ CC ^cc cc, C C < cc CC4C c < " c c c I - CC C <- cc cc ^ cc' <L<^^ ^ cc c:<ccc! " ,.< <r''-c<' " t < . C «Ccc ' c C'cccc C cc <: cl<c /V c «c ;., c<c <:-< c <c c c: c <c c <: c <c <_ <: c tc «. C C cC' *: c c *< * c c< cc ■^'*^ ' l'^ c"c«ttr. cc CCC'^JC. i c <£<< <-' The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022000107 Who Wrote ROCK ME TO SLEEP? \_ be i^t^^ 7^ — ^T^ /5Ux^/i^*V;^ PREFACE. The two accompanying articles discuss a ques- tion of interest lo the public, but of far deeper interest to Mr. Ball and his friends. The claim made by Mrs. Akers, and the publication as her own, of six verses of his beautiful poem, "Rock me to Sleep," placed him in a situation of great em- barrassment-. For nearly ten years previous to such publication, he had from time to time read these verses, with the other nine of which the poem is composed, to his many friends, as his own compo- sition. They had often been commented upon, admired and enjoyed. He sought no reputation as a poet. He had never published a verse, or per- mitted it to be published by his friends. He sought no honors from an admiring public. He neither wished his name blazoned in the public press, or his works offered for sale at the booksellers' stalls. He found his happiness in the refined enjoyments of his interesting and cultivated family circle, and in the society of his many friends, who were attracted by the varied charms of his home, and his own most remarkably genial and generous na- ture. He was little solicitous in regard to the injury to his literary reputation, but he felt keenly the imputation upon his honor. And yet he was most IV. reluctant to appear before the public to vindicate his claim to the authorship of the Poem. His delicate, sensitive nature shrank from the contro- versy, and all the more so as it must be waged ftot only with a lady, but with one who had already gained an enviabte reputation by her poetic efforts. With the most ample materials within his reach for the perfect vindication of his claim, he was reluc- tant to enter the arena and make the necessary exposure. But the course to be pursued in the premises was not left entirely to the decision of Mr. Ball. His friends, having not only the most perfect con- fidence ill his integrity, but knowing also that there was the most abundant and conclusive evidence to establish his claim to the authorship, determined that it should be vindicated. Fortunately that labor of love fell into the hands of the Hon. O. A. Morse, of Clierry Valley. Both his cultivation and his tastes peculiarly fitted him for the work. The evidences of liis cultivated, poetic nature, and of his large legal experience abound throughout the pamphlet. It is classical, logical, and overwhelmingly conclusive and unan- swerable. This vindication appeared in the Spring of 1867, with an introduction by Mr. liuther R. Marsh, of New York, a gentleman whose tastes and studies were similar to those of Mr. Morse. While it brought out a number of light and flippant arti- cles from the friends of Mrs. Akers, which appeared from time to time in the papers, no serious attempt 1 was made to answei- it, still less to contradict the facts therein so fully established. But in the following Summer Mrs. Akers felt constrained to write the most unfortunate letter of her life, found on the third and fourth pages of the Second Article ; and this elicited from Mr. Ball the two letters which follow it. No further reply has ever been received from Mrs. Akers. No suit has ever been commenced against Mr. Ball or Mr. Dodd to settle the question on proper evidence before a legal tribunal. Mrs. Akers has never since been heard from either by a reply to the letters, by suit, or in the public prints. In the minds of all unprejudiced persons, ^hese facts will forever settle the question of authorship. But to make the vindication complete before the world, it was necessary that the additional testimo- ny, especially the letter of the Hon. Goo. W. Wright and the above mentioned correspondence, should be made public. Another friend of Mr. Ball not only volunteered his services, but begged the privilege of writing a reply to what had been pnblished in behalf of Mrs. Akers and of producing the new proofs, t'jgethcr with the correspondence between her and Mr. Ball. This article appeared in the number of the Northern Monthly for the month of March, 1868. It was exhaustive and unanswerable. Two years have since elapsed, and no reply has been attempted. "Whoever reads the article will need no assurances that none ever will be. Nothing therefore remains to be done but to per- petuate the evidence of this vindication — to put these articles in a permanent form, and within reach of all who in future years may take an inter- est in the question at issue. As one of Mi'. Ball's many friends and admirers — as one who admires him both as a poet and as a man, I have, without his knowledge or request, assumed to myself this humble duty. It is a feeble tribute which I gratetully and with pleasure pay to his refined poetic tastes — his honor as a gentle- man, and his integrity as a man. E. W. LEAVENWORTH. Syracuse, March 1st, 1870. Who Wrote ROCK ME TO SLEEP ? VINDICATION or THE CLAIM OF ALEXANDER M. W. BALL, » OF ELIZABETH, N. J., TO THE AUTHORSHIP OF THE POEM, Uptt me to 5l«p, iftotter. By 0. A. ^MORSE, 0/ Cherry Valley, N. T. WITH AN INTBODUCTOEY NOTE FROM LUTHER R. MARSH. New York : M. W. DODD, 506 BROADWAY. 1867. Entered according to Act of CongreBS In the year 1867, By M. W. DoDD, In the Clerk's Office of the Bistrict Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New Tork. INTRODUCTORY NOTE, New York, February 15, 1867. My dear Sir : I do not yet see, in print, the article which you permitted me to read in manuscript, vin- dicating the claim of our friend Mr. Ball, to the authorship of the poem, which has found lodgment in the public favor, "Rock me to sleep." I hope the friendship which caused you to write it will not cool, ere you consummate the defense by giving it to type. So many emulous pens claim the lines, and one especially asserts with such earnestness, and help of publishers, its right to appro- priate them, that the real author is in danger of losing his offspring ; and, soon, nothing short of a writ of Tiabeas corpus and judg- ment thereon, will restore to the father the custody of his own child. Indeed already, he stands in an equivocal position in the estimation of those who are unacquainted with him, and who are less familiar with the facts than we are. Through the zeal of his friends, his claim to the poem has acquired such publicity, that he is now driven to the alternative of defending his right, or here- after remaining clouded with the suspicion of having put forth unfounded pretensions. A man's duty to himself and family sometimes calls on him to wage a contest he would else shrink from and abandon. These considera- tions, in a great measure, have been overcome in him, by a chivalric forbearance towards his chief contestant, and she would have walked, mistress, over the field, had not you, whose leisure permitted, whose tendencies are in the way of such an investigation, and whose character gives voucher for every statement of fact, undertaken of your own accord, unsolicited by him, the arranging of some of the prominent proofs in his behalf. As I remember your article, there were some classes of evidence which you did not deem it necessary to invoke, such as the domestic testimonies — the absolute declara- tions of wife and children as to dates and facts — and other cumulative proof; but enough was presented, I thought, to settle the question of authorship, and to illustrate a very curious phenomenon in literature. Cordially Yours, LuTHEK E. Marsh. Hon. Oliver A. Morse, Cherry Valley. VINDICATION. Many lovers of lyric poetry, for a few years past, liave been delighted with a poem, which is really a fragment of a poem, whose burden is " Rock me to sleep, mother." This fragment has been floating in the newspapers under the nom de plume of Florence Percy, and likewise has been published as a song set to music. The power and tenderness of feeling evinced in it, the harmo- niousness and elegance of its versification, and the deep sweet flow of its sentiment render it popular and admired by all classes of readers. The whole poem may be ranked among the gems of American literature, nor is it perhaps too. much to say, that as a plaintive refrain of filial love, it is not surpassed in our language. The lines of Cowper to his mother's picture awaken the same emotions, but in a less degree than these exquisite 8 verses, and certainly are inferior to them, as a longing and a cry that cannot be suppressed, for converse with the spirit of a beloved departed mother. It may be a question, whether in Cow- per's day, the spiritual atmosphere of England was not such, as to render impossible, even to the most refined and acute souls, any such vivid recog- nition and perception of beloved beings in the other world, as is manifested in these lines. A controversy has arisen respecting the author- ship of this production, which promises to make a curious item in literary history. The six verses of the poem which have been in the newspapers and set to music, are claimed by various persons, and on the 13th of June 1865, a note, of which the following is a copy, was published in the New York Evening Post : LITEEARY MISAPPEOPRIATION. To the Editor of the Evening Post. Please allow me sufficient space in your columns for a few words concerning a little poem entitled, " Rock me to sleep," which unwisely enough, as it has proved, I wrote and published five years ago, the authorship of which, by some queer freak of taste, has been repeatedly claimed by eight or ten persons, not one of wtom ever saw the poem until it appeared in print. I am certainly one of the last individuals in the world to take the humiliating position of contending in public or otherwise, for a matter of literary credit; .and so long as this question was merely that of ability to write the poem in dispute it was simply amusing to me. But when it assumes, as it has latterly done, the attitude of a slander, liable to set me wrong in the opinion of many whose regard is dearer to me than any newspaper praise could be. When I hear myself good naturedly designated in society, as the lady who pretends to have written, etc., it is high time to state the facts. I certainly wrote the song in question, and sent it from Italy in May, 1860, to the Philadelphia Saturday Even- ing Post, in which it immediately appeared, with the signature of " Florence Percy," a name which I mis- takenly adopted when a school girl. I remember laughing heartily at an enthusiastic friend of mine, who, reading for the hundredth time, as only he could read, Bulwer's sweet little lyric commencing " When stars are in the quiet skies, " Then most I pine for thee : "Bend on me then thy tender eyes, " As stars look on the sea " remarked gravely, " I wish I had written that song ; " and he continued, holding the book at arm's length, and look- ing at the print with loving eyes, " I believe I should have done it if Bulwer had let it alone." Accepting this as a probability, I can but regret that I wrote the unhappy poem, herein designated, believing 2 10 as I must believe tiat every one of its claimants would have written it in due time, and doubtless more perfectly if " I had let it alone." Very respectfully, Elizabeth A. C. Akers. Washington City, D. C, June, 1865. In a volume of poems published for Mrs. Akers by Messrs. Ticknor and Fields, in 1866, these six verses are included. Consequent on the publica- tion of this card, and this volume, remarks and insinuations have been made, both in public prints and in private circles, respecting the author of the whole poem of such a character, as to demand some response from him or his friends. The writer of these pages is one of those friends, and while he does not profess any special qualifi- cation for his volunteered championship, he does profess to be actuated by an honest intention that the truth shall be made plain. The whole poem, of fifteen verses, of eight lines each, was written by Alexander M. W. Ball, of Elizabeth, New Jersey, in the latter part of the year 1866, and the early part of the year 1857. It is as follows, and as a whole has never before been in print. 11 KOCK ME TO SLEEP, MOTHEK. I. Backward, flow backward, oh full tide of years, I am so weary of toils and of tears — Toil without recompense — tears all in vain. Take them, and give me my childhood again. I have grown weary of dust and decay — Weary of flinging my heart's wealth away : Weary of sowing for others to reap, Kock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. II. Hushed be my sighing, I see through the mist Loved ones that cheer me, and silently list : Hark ! tis the hymning of angelic song, Joyfully leading my sad heart along, 12 Treading the grass that now weeps on your grave, Let me in spirit your sweet presence crave : This will now cheer me, no more will I weep, Bock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. III. Clouded and sabled, there come with my age Eecords of sadness, to soil the fair page. Footprints of sorrow to blot it all o'er, Thinking of those on the echoless shore. Only, I see you look down on me now, While humbly kneeling, at his cross I bow : Come then and dry up the tears I must weep, Bock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. IV. As stars in the day are concealed by the light. And darkness unveils them alone to the sight. So sleeping I see you, unseen when awake, And welcome thrice welcome is sleep for your sake ; 13 Soft are my slumbers, a glory of beams, Announcing your coming, illumines my dreams : Visit me nightly, and when I would weep. Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. Backward, turn backward, then time in your flight, Make me a child again just for to-night. Mother, come back from the echoless shore. Take me again to your heart as of yore. Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care. Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair j Over my slumbers your loving watch keep. Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. VI. Over my heart in bright days that are flown. No love like mother love ever has shone. No other worship abides and endures, Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours ; 14 None like a mother can charm away pain From the sick soul and the world weary brain, Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep, Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. VII. Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue. Mother, dear mother, my heart calls for you, Many a summer the grass has grown green. Blossomed and faded our faces between. Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain, Long I to-night for your presence again; Come from the silence, so long and so deep, Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. VIII. Mother, dear mother, the days have been long, Since I last hushed to your lullaby song; Sing it, and unto my soul it shall seem. Manhood's long years have been only a dream. 15 Clasped to your heart, in a loving embrace, With your light lashes just sweeping my face : Never hereafter to sigh or to weep, Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. IX. Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold Fall on your shoulders again as of old — Let it fall over my forehead to-night. Shading my faint eyes away from the light : For with its sunny-edged shadows once more Fondly will throng the sweet visions of yore. Lovingly, softly, its charmed billows sweep — Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. Angelic mother, now tenderly smile, While the fond seraphs my soul shall beguile ; Shed o'er my pathway the spirit world's light To guide and to cheer me, all through the night. 16 I have grown weary of life's changing tide, Weary of striving my great sins to hide ; Weary of climbing life's hill side so steep — Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. XI. Tired of earth's mockery, and the world's strife, Tired of the penances paid for this life — Growing more weary of heartless display — Weary of world's night, I long for the day — Let then your spirit encompass me now. While on your bosom in silence I bow. Tenderly watching my thoughts as they sweep, Bock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. XII. Thought cannot linger around the cold tomb. Sweet spirit faces will break through its gloom, And when I wipe the fresh tear drops away, Clouds turn to brightness, and roseate day 17 Breaks on my vision, then smiling again Peace spreads her gentle wings softly to reign, Voices celestial forbid me to weep, Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. XIII. Stilled are my tumults, I see in the sky Loved ones whose splendors have drowned every sigh. Faces familiar of friends here no more, Fairer and fonder than ever before — Glorified figures that stoop to caress, Mighty to comfort, and mighty to bless — Bright is the vision - — no more can I weep, Bock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. XIV. Bock me to sleep, mother, rock me to rest; Calmed with your smiling the storm in my breast, Stilled are the sorrows you come to allay ; Teach me again as of old how to pray — 3 18 Contentions witliout, contentions within, Battlings with doubt, and temptation, and sin. Ceased with your presence, I cannot now weep, Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. XV. Thus with my loved ones I'll watch by your side. Nor weep once again, whatever betide. Waiting all calmly the coming of those Holding the signet of death's cold repose; — Farewell to sorrow — farewell to all ill — Whispers are stealing, sad heart be now still, — With my dear mother, kind watch I will keep, She charges the angels to rock me to sleep. 19 The following verses are found in Mrs. Akers's volume : ROCK ME TO SLEEP. Backward, turn backward, O time in your flight. Make me a child again just for to-night ! Mother, come back from the echoless shore. Take me again to your heart as of yore ; Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair ; Over my slumbers your loving watch keep ; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years ! I am BO weary of toil and of tears, Toil without recompense, tears all in vain. Take them, and give me my childhood again ; I have grown weary of dust and decay. Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away ; Weary of sowing for others to reap ; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue, Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you ! Many a summer the grass has grown green, Blossomed and faded, our faces between : Tet, with strong yearning and passionate pain, Long I to-night for your presence again. Come from the silence so long and so deep ; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! 20 Over my heart, in the days that are flown, No love like mother-love ever has shone ; No other worship ahides and endures. Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours : None like a mother can charm away pain From the sick soul and the world weary brain. Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep, Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! Come let your brown hair just lighted with gold, Fall on your shoulders again as of old ; Let it drop over my forehead to-night, Shading my faint eyes away from the light ; For with its sunny-edged shadows once more Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore : Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep ; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! Mother, dear mother, the years have been long Since I last listened your lullaby song ; Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem Womanhood's years have been only a dream. Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace. With your light lashes just sweeping my face, Never hereafter to wake or to weep : Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep ! Mrs Akers is an authoress favorably known to the public, whose writings have the imprimatur of the press of Ticknor and Fields. Mr Ball is a gentleman in private life, who has never pub- lished a line, and is unknown as a poet, except to his intimate friends. In the issue which is here 21 made between them, the lady therefore has the advantage in the fact, that before the public the presumption would be in her favor. Her pub- lishers intimate that they rest her case on that ground ; but whether they shall continue to do so will be a matter of more moment to her than to Mr Ball. The controversy has been forced on Mr Ball, or rather on his friends, for he has not even yet been willing to take much part in it. Several persons, who long have been familiar with the whole poem, as written by him, when they saw the authorship claimed by and accorded to another, on their own responsibility and with- out his knowledge, asserted in the newspapers that he was the veritable author. Although he was not known as a poet, his personal and social standing gave circulation, and more or less credit to this statement, and to his regret and chagrin he has found himself the subject of remark in the newspapers, sometimes of a most unpleasant character.* He would have been willing that *For instance in these two extracts, the first seems to give the name at which the slur towards the close of the latter is pointed. Frmn the N. Y. Evening Gazette, Dec 31, 1866. The contest over the authorship of that singularly popular poem entitled " Eock me to sleep, mother" is still vigorously prosecuted by Mr. A. M. 22 Mrs. Akers or any one else, should have enjoyed all the credit that could be had from the poem ; but his friends feel, as Mrs. Akers's note expresses it, that when the matter assumes the attitude of a slander, it is high time the facts should be made known. The question has been asked, who is Mr. Ball whose friends declare to be the author of one of the most beautiful poems of the day ? If he has written this, it is said, he could write other things like it, and what else has he written? These W. Ball, of Elizabetli. Dr. Eipley, literary editor of the Tribune, and Dr. Colea, of Newark, anthor of Microcosm, who have interested themeelves in the matter, both admit the Justice of Mr. Ball's claims. From the N. Y. Evening Gazette, Jan 3, 1867. LiTEEAEY LAECENIES. There must he something in a literary reputation, or so many would not be striving to attain it by all sorts of means. There is a class of scribblers who wriggie themselves into momentary notoriety by puffery, and there is another class who impudently demand attention by claiming the author- ship of productions which they could not under any circumstances have written. They generally fasten upon some striking poem which was pub- lished anonymously, or whose writer's name has been separated from it in its wanderings over land and sea, and make a manuscript copy, which they read to their friends, who, of course, are ready afterwards to testify that they saw the piece in manuscript, fresh from the brain of the author, before it found its way in print, with other little fanciful additions which they very houeatly believe. Some of the most famous lyrics in the lan- guage have had their paternity disputed in this way. Among others, "Wolfe's Burial of Sir John Moore, which a number of imaginative fielts endeavored to father upon themselves, and Campbell's Exile of Erin, which it is now pretended that he stole bodily, we believe from the tradi- tionary exile himself, McCann, if that was his name. They are very active here, and at this time — these barefaced purloiners of reputation — snap- ping up any little waif that may come under their observation. Every- 23 would seem reasonable queries, and they shall be fully answered. The natural division of the inquiry would be, first, could Mr. Ball have written the poem, that is, has he the ability to write it ; and second, did he write it, and if so, when did he write it. Both of these points will be fully considered and illus- trated, but in the inverse order in which they are stated. In her note to the Evening Post, Mrs. Akers body rememberB tlie young person of the softer sex, a Miss Peck, if we recall her name correctly, who said that Hwaj she, and not Mr. William Allan Batter, who wrote Nothing to Wear which, of course, she had no means of proving beyond her mere assertion, which nobody was gallant enough to accept. A second instance of disputed authorship was venti- lated a few months since in the Bound Table, the thing in dispute then being a copy of verses entitled The Zong Ago, and written by a Mr. Benjamin F. Taylor, of Chicago, who has had all sorts of hands grasping after his imaginary laurel, and rousing, through their friends, a mighty clamor forjustice, which they richly deserved in the nearest literary pillory. A third instance concerned the plaintive little lyric Bock me to sleep, •mother, which was written by Florence Percy, otherwise Mrs Akers, formerly the widow of a sculptor of that name and now we believe a Mrs. Perry of somewhere in Virginia. We say that it was written by her since she has included it in the blue and gold edition of her poems which was published not long ago in Boston. This fact proves nothing to those who dispute her claims in behalf of themselves or others, but it settles the question as regards the general reader who has no interest in it beyond what he derives from the poetry. If an author of reputation says that he or she wrote such or such a poem, his or her word ought to end all contro- versy, particularly such controversies as are waged by persons of whom no on^ ever heard before or cares to hear again. It is time, it is more than time, that these cases of literary larceny were punished, for if allowed to flourish much longer unchecked no man can feel that his poem or his purse is safe. For he who begins by putting his name to a poem that he did not write may end by putting the name of another to one that he did, and find himself some fine morning in prison for forgery. 24 has made ttie exact issue between herself and all other claimants. Writing in June, 1865, she says she wrote and published the poem five years ago, and that not one of its claimants ever saw it till it appeared in print. So far then as she is con- cerned, the question will be settled, if the exist- ence of the poem prior to 1860, can be estabhshed. Mr. Ball wrote, or made the draft of the whole poem, except one verse, in the latter part of the year 1856. In February, 1857, he sailed for Cali- fornia, and on the steamers, "on both oceans, he corrected and polished it, and added one verse. The following letters and facts are given as evi- dence of the truth of this statement. The letters bear internal evidence of their au- thenticity, and will commend themselves to any intelligent reader as genuine and truthful. Some of the writers are ladies, and their names are not printed, as it is not anticipated that either the genuineness of the letters, or the good faith or intelligence of the vsTiters will be questioned. But the names can be given, and the letters more fully authenticated, should there be any question about either. 25 Postscript of a Letter to Mr. Ball, Dated Brooklyn, April 7, 1858. P. S. — Will you please send me by the doctor, the lines on the fly leaf of the book which I presented to you, and also the other poem, which you read to me when I saw you last, entitled, " Rock me to sleep, mother.'' New York, July 10, 1866. My Dear Mr. Ball : In reply to your inquiry whether I remembered a cer- tain visit to your house in Newark and the reading by you of " Rock me to sleep, mother," I have to say that my recollection is most vivid of the whole afiair. A projected visit by myself and Mrs. was carried into execution. Upon our arriving, we found that Mrs. Ball had gone to Leroy to place her daughter at school, but at your urgent request we remained till her return. It was before her return that one evening you read the disputed poem, and so distinct is my recollection of the circumstances, that the room and the positions occupied by all of us, are before me. It was a manuscript written upon note paper. That the authorship had been questioned I did not know until a paragraph in the Evening Post in this city announced that you were at last believed to be the rightful claimant. I involuntarily remarked that I could have settled that long ago, for I had so many years since heard it from your own manuscript. That you should have been ques- 4 26 tioned in the matter is only additional proof of your too great modesty, which has thus far prevented many beau- tiful things you have written being published and thus establishing at once the authorship of what your many friends may justly be proud. I am yours, truly, I. E. S. Ithaca, June 27, 1865. My dear Mr. Ball : What I particularly intended to say when I commenced this sheet was, that I saw recently in the .N'. Y. Evening Post, a card from Mrs. Akers, in which she claims to have written and published in 1860, the poem " Rock me to sleep, mother." Now in the winter of 1856 or 1857, you read to me one evening in your study, your poem of " Rock me to sleep, mother." One verse of which com- mencing "Backward, flow backward," was at the time the subject of my criticism. You can fix the exact time by ascertaining which winter it was, that Mrs. Ball took Maria to Dr. Cox's, and placed her in the school in Leroy. Had you acceded to the reiterated wishes of those of your friends whom you honored Wth the reading of some of your poetical effusions, to publish them, or at least give us copies of them, Mrs. Akers and some half score other ladies, would have been less bold in claiming the mater- nity of the poem in question. * * * Very sincerely your friend, L. P. 27 A bill now before the writer rendered by the Principal of the Leroy school, at the beginning of Mr. Ball's daughter's first term, fixes the date called for by the writers of the above letters in February, 1857. In fact, the draft of the poem was read to these two ladies at that time, just prior tO Mr. Ball's saihng for CaUfornia. Albany, October 26, 1866. My dear Mr. Ball : In reference to that beautiful poem, " Rock me to sleep, mother," I am sorry that I cannot remember the exact date when I first heard it. I distinctly remember your reading it to me, and I know it was either in the year 1857 or 1858. I have heard it sung, and highly praised, and was happy to say, that I had the pleasure of knowing the author. ***** Your friend, H. D. E. 8 Pine St., New York, Oat. 25, 1866. Dear Sir : Relative to the controversy in re the authorship of " Rock nle to sleep, mother." 28 Sometime during the autumn of 1859, I ttink in the month of September, I called on business at your house in Newark. Mrs. Ball was absent — in Cherry Valley, I believe — at the time. In course of our conversation, you said you had been writing a satirical poem, which — as I knew some of the parties — you read to me ; and during the interview you also took from your desk other productions, among them that which you have read to me to day, bearing the above title. I am able to fix the date by that of the paper which was the subject of our interview, and which I now have before me. Yours respectfully, J. Burrows Hyde. To A. M. W. Ball, Esq., Elizabeth, N. J. Newark, N. J., Jan. 11, 1867. Dear Sir: In reply to your inquiry as to my recollection of your reading to me " Rock me to sleep, mother" (and which you have just now reread to me), I would say, that during the summer of 1857, I called on you at your house to ascertain where you purchased a set of damask window curtains, as I wanted to procure the same kind. During my visit you read me that poem with others. I was particularly struck with this one, as I had known your mother, and remarked on the justness of the senti- ment referring to her. I am confirmed in my recollection 29 of tte time, by finding tliat the curtains I purchased on your recommendation were charged to me in September of that, year, and it took some time to procure them. My wife, to whom I have spoken on the subject, recol- lects the occasion as I do. I remember saying to you at your house, when you read me the poetry referred to, that if you had not published you ought to do so, and that as we were old friends, if you did not publish, and would make me your literary executor, I would see that the gift God had given you should be known hereafter if I outlived you. I am. Yours truly, • Lewis C. Cteover. A. M. W. Ball, Esq. Some of these letters were procured by Mr. Ball, and some voluntarily written to him, after the recent discussion concerning the authorship of the poem in the Post, Tribune, and other papers. A large amount of other proof of a like nature, could be given, and would be were there any question that the point, the existence of the poem prior to 1860, and as early as 1857, was not fully established. Do not these letters settle that with a certainty, to all intents, sujEcient to convict of murder in any court in Christendom ? 80 Evidence of Mr. Ball's authorship of an entirely different character, hut equally conclusive, and perhaps more interesting, is now offered. This is found in the poem itself. It would seem that no criticism or argument could be needed to show that the same pen, the same inspiration which wrote the nine verses, which are now for the first time published, also vsTote the other six. Mr. Ball's authorship as to the nine is not questioned, and do not the whole fifteen belong to the same one exquisite mosaic ? "Where else does this sweet verse belong, the first in the unpublished series, and does it no^ speak for him more convincingly than any dates and documents ? Hushed be my sighing, I see thro' the miat, Loved ones that cheer me, and silently list, Hark ! 'tis the hymning of angelic song, Joyfully leading my sad heart along. Treading the grass that now weeps on your grave, Let me in spirit your sweet presence crave ; This will now cheer me, no more will I weep, Kook me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. 31 Will it be said tliat this and its fellow unpub- Habed verses, are merely interpolations in, and imitations of Mrs. Akers and Messrs. Ticknor and Field's original ? Let us tben scrutinize tbe next in order of these parts, and see whether it be indeed a counterfeit, or whether in everj word and breath it is not full of truth and beauty, and does not belong, by an obviousness higher than any logic can prove, to this garland which a loving son has placed on the grave of his mother. Clouded and gabled there come with, my age, Records of sadness to spil the fair page, Footprints of sorrow to blot it all o'er, Thinking of those on the echoless shore. Only I see you look down on me now, While humbly kneeling at his cross I bow ; Come then, and dry up the tears I must weep, Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. 