37

Solution Manual for Chemistry The Molecular Science 5th Edition by

Moore ISBN 1285199049 9781285199047
Full link download Solution Manual:
https://testbankpack.com/p/solution-manual-for-chemistry-the-molecular-science-5th-
edition-by-moore-isbn-1285199049-9781285199047/

The terms atom, molecule, element, and compound can be confusing to students and this confusion can persist
beyond the introductory chemistry level. It is important to introduce each term clearly and to use many examples
and non-examples. Ask students to draw nanoscale level diagrams of (1) atoms of an element, (2) molecules of an
element, (3) atoms of a compound (NOT possible), and (4) molecules of a compound.
The idea of thinking about matter on different levels (macroscale, nanoscale, and symbolic) introduced in Chapter 1
can be reinforced by bringing to class a variety of element samples. When presenting each element, write the
symbol, draw a nanoscale representation in its physical state at room temperature, and show a ball-and-stick or space-
filled model.
Show students macroscopic samples of a variety of compounds together with a model, nanoscale level diagram, and
symbol for each. Include both ionic and covalent compounds and be sure that all three states of matter are
represented.
Students sometimes misinterpret the subscripts in chemical formulas. There are two common errors: (1) Assigning
the subscript to the wrong element; for example, thinking that K2S consists of 1 K atom and 2 S atoms instead of the
reverse. (2) Not distributing quantities when parentheses are used; for example, thinking that Mg(OH) 2 has 1 O
atom instead of 2 O atoms. It is important to test for these errors because they will lead to more mistakes when
calculating molar masses, writing balanced chemical equations, and doing stoichiometric calculations.
Although we want our students to think conceptually and not rely on algorithms for problem solving, some
algorithms, such as the one for naming compounds, are worth teaching to students. Two simple questions (and
hints) students should ask themselves are: (1) Is there a metal in the formula? If not, prefixes will be used in the
name. and (2) Does the metal form more than one cation? If yes, Roman numerals in parentheses will be used in the
name.
A common misconception students have about ions, is that a positive ion has gained electrons and a negative ion has lost
electrons. Use a tally of the protons, neutrons and electrons in an atom and the ion it forms to show students the basis
of the charge of an ion.
The dissociation of an ionic compound into its respective ions when dissolved in water is another troublesome area.
Research on student nanoscale diagrams has revealed misconceptions such as these: (1) NiCl 2 dissociates into Ni2+
and Cl2, (2) NaOH dissociates into Na+, O2–, and H+, (3) Ni(OH)2 dissociates into Ni2+ and (OH)22–. Having
students draw nanoscale diagrams is an excellent way of testing their understanding of dissociation. Questions for
Review and Thought 116, 117, 118 address this issue.
Some students completely ignore the charges when they look at formulas of ions; hence they see no difference
between molecules and the ions with the same number and type of atoms, e.g., SO 3 and SO32– or NO2 and NO2–. It
is important to point out that an ion’s formula is incomplete unless the proper charge is given, and that a substance is
a compound if there is no charge specified.
Another means of assessing student understanding is to give them incorrect examples of a concept, term, or a
problem’s result and have them explain why it is incorrect. For some examples see Question for Review and Thought
128.
A quantity using the units of moles (Section 2-10) is one of the most important and most difficult concepts in a first
course of introductory chemistry. Because Avogadro’s number is so large, it is impossible to show students a
1- mole quantity of anything with distinct units that they can see and touch. Give numerous examples of mole
quantities or have students think up some themselves, e.g., the Pacific Ocean holds one mole of teaspoons of water,
or the entire state of Pennsylvania would be a foot deep in peas if one mole of peas were spread out over the entire
state. Many students have the misconception that “mole” is a unit of mass; so, be on guard for this. Alwa ys ask
students to identify the quantity, when you want them to calculate moles.
38

Suggestions for Effective Learning

Many instructors skip organic and biochemistry topics in an introductory chemistry course because they think
students will eventually take organic or biochemistry courses, so it is unnecessary to cover it in general chemistry.
 39

The reality is that the majority of the students will not. Some of these students will be exposed to organic and
biochemistry courses dealing with living systems (human, animal, or plant). The rest will leave college with a very
limited view of chemistry. It is important to not skip the organic and biochemistry topics; they will add breadth to
your course and spark student interest.
Not all college students are abstract thinkers; many are still at the concrete level when it comes to learning
chemistry. The confusion surrounding the writing and understanding ionic chemical formulas can be eliminated by
the use of simple jigsaw puzzle pieces. Below are templates for cation and anion cutouts. The physical
manipulation or visualization of how these pieces fit together is enough for most students to grasp the concept.

3+ion 3–ion

2+ ion

Show them that the ions must fit together with all the notches paired. For example, magnesium chloride, is an
example of a compound with a 2+ cation and two 1– anions.
The pieces fit together as shown here:

1– ion

A tip for writing correct chemical formulas of ionic compounds is that the magnitude of charge on the cation is the
subscript for the anion and vice versa. Consider the formula of the ionic compound made from Al3+ and O2–:
Al 3 + O 2 – results in the formula Al2O3.

Caution students that using this method can lead to incorrect formulas as in the case of Mg 2+ and O2– resulting in
Mg2O2 instead of the correct formula of MgO.

Figure 2.6 shows the formation of an ionic compound.

In addition to showing representative samples of the compounds, it is useful to demonstrate examples of physical
properties, e.g., cleaving a crystal with a sharp knife (Figure 2.9), conductivity of molten ionic compounds (Figure
2.10), etc.
When doing mole calculations, some students get answers that are off by a power of ten. While rare, this problem
can usually be traced back to an error in a calculator entry. The student enters Avogadro’s number as: 6.022,
multiplication key, 10, exponent key, 23, which results in the value 6.022 x 1024. It may be necessary to teach
students how to correctly enter exponential numbers into their calculators.
40

In addition to showing representative samples of the elements, it is good to demonstrate physical properties, e.g.,
sublimation of iodine, to link back to material in Chapter 1 and chemical changes, e.g., Li, Na, and K reacting with
water, to link to future material.

Cooperative Learning Activities

Questions, problems, and topics that can be used for Cooperative Learning Exercises and other group work are:
• Have students complete a matrix of names and/or formulas of compounds formed by specified cations and anions.
This exercise can be used as a drill-and-practice or as an assessment of student knowledge prior to or after
instruction. Use only those cations and anions most relevant to your course.
–
Cl– O2– NO3
PO43–
Na+ NaCl
sodium chloride
Fe2+
Fe3+
Al3+
Questions, problems, and topics that can be used for Cooperative Learning Exercises and other group work are:
• Have students list elements and compounds they interact with each day.
• Questions for Review and Thought from the end of this chapter: 4, 104-105, 114, 49-50, 126
• Conceptual Challenge Problems: CP2.A, CP2.B CP2.C, CP2.D, and CP2.E
 41

End-of-Chapter Solutions for Chapter 2

Summary Problem
Part I

Result: (a) Europium, Eu (b) Z = 63 (c) A = 151, (d) Atomic weight = 151.965 u (e) Lanthanide Series (f)
metal (g) 1.78  109 m
Analyze: Given the number of protons, and neutrons in the atom, determine the identity of the element, its symbol,
the atomic number, the mass number, its location in the periodic table, and whether it is a metal, nonmetal or
metalloid. Given the isotopic abundance and masses of two isotopes of this element, determine its atomic weight.
Given the mass of the elements, determine the number of moles and the number of atoms. Given the diameter of
atoms of this element, determine how many meters long a chain of this many atoms would be.
Plan and Execute:
(a) The atomic number is the same as the number of protons, 63. The number of protons is the same as the number
of electrons in an uncharged atom. The element is Europium, with a symbol of Eu.
(b) Atomic number = Z = number of protons = 63.
(c) Isotope’s mass number = A = Z + number of neutrons = 63 + 91 = 151.
(d) Calculate the weighted average of the isotope masses.
Every 10,000 atoms of the element contain 4,780 atoms of the 151Eu isotope, with an atomic mass of 150.920 u,
and 5,220 atoms of the 153Eu isotope, with an atomic mass of 152.922 u.

(e) The element is found in the Lanthanide Series because it shows up in the row labeled “Lanthanides” (Atomic
Number 58-71.
(f) This is a transition metal, according to the color-coding on the Periodic Table.
(e) Using the atomic weight calculated in (d), we can say that the molar mass is 151.965 g/mol.
The atomic radius is 180 pm. The diameter is twice the radius. Multiply the number of atoms by the atomic
diameter, and use metric conversions to determine the number of meters.
1  10−12 m 9
4.95  1018 Eu atoms  2  (180 pm)  = 1.78  10 m
1 pm
Reasonable Result Check: The periodic table lists an atomic weight very close to the same as the one
calculated (151.964 u vs. 151.965 u). The number of moles is smaller than the number of grams. The number
of atoms is very large. The length of the atom chain is quite long, considering the small size of each atom;
however, given the large number of atoms it makes sense that the chain would be long.
Part II
Results: (a) (NH4)2Cr2O7, NH4NO3, and C7H5N3O6 (b) NH4NO3 (c) C7H5N3O6 (d) none at room
temperature; (NH4)2Cr2O7 and NH4NO3 at elevated temperatures (e) (NH4)2Cr2O7 and NH4NO3
Analyze: Given information about three nitrogen-containing compounds, write formulas, compare mass percents of N,
identify which compound has the lowest melting point, determine which conduct electricity at room temperature or at
high temperature, and if they would conduct electricity in the molten state.
Another document from Scribd.com that is
random and unrelated content:
Both North and South the health’s jes’ splendid

As ’fore the rumpus.

The old farms and the old plantations

Still ockipies the’r old positions.

Le’ ’s git back to old situations

And old ambitions.

Le’ ’s let up on this blame’, infernal

Tongue-lashin’ and lap-jacket vauntin’

And git back home to the eternal

Ca’m we’re a-wantin’.

Peace kind o’ sort o’ suits my diet—

When women does my cookin’ for me,

Ther’ wasn’t overly much pie et

Durin’ the army.

¹ By Permission of the Century Co.

OUR HIRED GIRL. ¹

“ .”

UR hired girl, she’s ’Lizabuth Ann;

An’ she can cook best things to eat!

She ist puts dough in our pie-pan,

An’ pours in somepin’ ’at ’s good an’ sweet;

An’ nen she salts it all on top

With cinnamon; an’ nen she’ll stop

An’ stoop an’ slide it, ist as slow,

In th’ old cook-stove, so ’s ’t wont slop

An’ git all spilled; nen bakes it, so

It’s custard-pie, first thing you know!

An’ nen she’ll say,

“Clear out o’ my way!

They’s time fer work, an’ time fer play!

Take yer dough, an’ run, child, run!

Er I cain’t git no cookin’ done!”

When our hired girl ’tends like she’s mad,

An’ says folks got to walk the chalk

When she’s around, er wisht they had!

I play out on our porch an’ talk

To th’ Raggedy Man ’t mows our lawn;

An’ he says, “Whew!” an’ nen leans on

His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes,

An’ sniffs all ’round an’ says, “I swawn!

Ef my old nose don’t tell me lies,

It ’pears like I smell custard-pies!”

An’ nen he’ll say,

“Clear out o’ my way!

They’s time fer work, an’ time fer play!

Take yer dough, an’ run, child, run!

Er she cain’t git no cookin’ done!”

Wunst our hired girl, when she

Got the supper, an’ we all et,

An’ it wuz night, an’ Ma an’ me

An’ Pa went wher’ the “Social” met,—

An’ nen when we come home, an’ see

A light in the kitchen-door, an’ we

Heerd a maccordeun, Pa says, “Lan’-

O’-Gracious! who can her beau be?”

An’ I marched in, an’ ’Lizabuth Ann

Wuz parchin’ corn fer the Raggedy Man!

Better say,

“Clear out o’ the way!

They’s time fer work, an’ time fer play!

Take the hint, an’ run, child, run!

Er we cain’t git no courtin’ done!”

¹ By permission of The Century Co.

THE RAGGEDY MAN. ¹

“ .”

THE Raggedy Man! He works fer Pa;

An’ he’s the goodest man ever you saw!

He comes to our house every day,

An’ waters the horses, an’ feeds ’em hay;

An’ he opens the shed—an’ we all ist laugh

When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf;

An’ nen—ef our hired girl says he can—

He milks the cow fer ’Lizabuth Ann.—

Ain’t he a’ awful good Raggedy Man?

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

W’y, the Raggedy Man—he ’s ist so good,

He splits the kindlin’ an’ chops the wood;

An’ nen he spades in our garden, too,

An’ does most things ’t boys can’t do.—

He clumbed clean up in our big tree

An’ shooked a’ apple down fer me—

An’ ’nother ’n’, too, fer ’Lizabuth Ann—

An’ ’nother ’n’, too, fer the Raggedy Man.—

Ain’t he a’ awful kind Raggedy Man?

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

An’ the Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes,

An’ tells ’em, ef I be good, sometimes:

Knows ’bout Giunts, an’ Griffuns, an’ Elves,

An’ the Squidgicum-Squees ’at swallers therselves!

An’, wite by the pump in our pasture-lot,

He showed me the hole ’at the Wunks is got,

’At lives ’way deep in the ground, an’ can

Turn into me, er ’Lizabuth Ann!

Ain’t he a funny old Raggedy Man?

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

The Raggedy Man—one time, when he

Wuz makin’ a little bow’-n’-orry fer me,

Says, “When you’re big like your Pa is,

Air you go’ to keep a fine store like his—

An’ be a rich merchunt—an’ wear fine clothes?—

Er what air you go’ to be, goodness knows?”

An’ nen he laughed at ’Lizabuth Ann,

An’ I says, “’M go’ to be a Raggedy Man!—

I’m ist go’ to be a nice Raggedy Man!”

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

¹ By permission of The Century Co.

 FRANCIS BRET HARTE.
.

HE turbulent mining camps of California, with

their vicious hangers-on, have been embalmed
for future generations by the unerring genius of
Bret Harte, who sought to reveal the remnants
of honor in man, and loveliness in woman,
despite the sins and vices of the mining towns of our Western
frontier thirty or forty years ago. His writings have been
regarded with disfavor by a religious class of readers because of
the frequent occurrence of rough phrases and even profanity
which he employs in his descriptions. It should be remembered,
however, that a faithful portrait of the conditions and people
which he described could hardly have been presented in more
polite language than that employed.

Bret Harte was born in Albany, New York, in 1839. His

father was a scholar of ripe culture, and a teacher in the Albany
Female Seminary. He died poor when Bret was quite young,
consequently the education of his son was confined to the
common schools of the city. When only seventeen years of age,
young Harte, with his widowed mother, emigrated to California.
Arriving in San Francisco he walked to the mines of Sonora and
there opened a school which he taught for a short time. Thus
began his self-education in the mining life which furnished the
material for his early literature. After leaving his school he
became a miner, and at odd times learned to set type in the office
of one of the frontier papers. He wrote sketches of the strange
life around him, set them up in type himself, and offered the
proofs to the editor, believing that in this shape they would be
more certain of acceptance. His aptitude with his pen secured
him a position on the paper, and in the absence of the editor he
once controlled the journal and incurred popular wrath for
censuring a little massacre of Indians by the leading citizens of
the locality, which came near bringing a mob upon him.

The young adventurer,—for he was little else at this time,—

also served as mounted messenger of an express company and as
express agent in several mountain towns, which gave him a full
knowledge of the picturesque features of mining life. In 1857 he
returned to San Francisco and secured a position as compositor
on a weekly literary journal. Here again he repeated his former
trick of setting up and submitting several spirited sketches of
mining life in type. These were accepted and soon earned him an
editorial position on the “Golden Era.” After this he made many
contributions to the daily papers and his tales of Western life
began to attract attention in the East. In 1858, he married, which
put an end to his wanderings. He attempted to publish a
newspaper of his own, “The Californian,” which was bright and
worthy to live, but failed for want of proper business
management.

In 1864 Mr. Harte was appointed Secretary of the United

States Branch Mint at San Francisco, and during his six years of
service in this position found leisure to write some of his popular
poems, such as “John Burns, of Gettysburg,” “How Are You,
Sanitary?” and others, which were generally printed in the daily
newspapers. He also became editor of the “Overland Monthly”
when it was founded in 1868, and soon made this magazine as
great a favorite on the Atlantic as on the Pacific Coast, by his
contribution to its columns of a series of sketches of California
life which have won a permanent place in literature. Among
these sketches are “The Luck of Roaring Camp,” telling how a
baby came to rule the hearts of a rough, dissolute gang of
miners. It is said that this masterpiece, however, narrowly
escaped the waste-basket at the hands of the proofreader, a
woman, who, without noticing its origin, regarded it as utter
trash. “The Outcast of Poker Flat,” “Miggles,” “Tennessee’s
Partner,” “An Idyl of Red Gulch,” and many other stories which
revealed the spark of humanity remaining in brutalized men and
women, followed in rapid succession.

Bret Harte was a man of the most humane nature, and

sympathized deeply with the Indian and the Chinaman in the
rough treatment they received at the hands of the early settlers,
and his literature, no doubt, did much to soften and mollify the
actions of those who read them—and it may be safely said that
almost every one did, as he was about the only author at that
time on the Pacific Slope and very popular. His poem, “The
Heathen Chinee,” generally called “Plain Language from
Truthful James,” was a masterly satire against the hue and cry
that the Chinese were shiftless and weak-minded settlers. This
poem appeared in 1870 and was wonderfully popular.

In the spring of 1871 the professorship of recent literature in

the University of California was offered to Mr. Harte, on his
resignation of the editorship of the “Overland Monthly,” but he
declined the proffer to try his literary fortunes in the more
cultured East. He endeavored to found a magazine in Chicago,
but his efforts failed, and he went to Boston to accept a position
on the “Atlantic Monthly,” since which time his pen has been
constantly employed by an increasing demand from various
magazines and literary journals. Mr. Harte has issued many
volumes of prose and poetry, and it is difficult to say in which
field he has won greater distinction. Both as a prose writer and
as a poet he has treated similar subjects with equal facility. His
reputation was made, and his claim to fame rests upon his
intuitive insight into the heart of our common humanity. A
number of his sketches have been translated into French and
German, and of late years he has lived much abroad, where he is,
if any difference, more lionized than he was in his native
country.

From 1878 to 1885 Mr. Harte was United States Consul

successively to Crefield and Glasgow. Ferdinand Freiligraph,
one of his German translators, and himself a poet, pays this
tribute to his peculiar excellence:

“Nevertheless he remains what he is—the Californian and

the gold-digger. But the gold for which he has dug, and which he
found, is not the gold in the bed of rivers—not the gold in veins
of mountains; it is the gold of love, of goodness, of fidelity, of
humanity, which even in rude and wild hearts—even under the
rubbish of vices and sins—remains forever uneradicated from
the human heart. That he there searched for this gold, that he
found it there and triumphantly exhibited it to the world—that is
his greatness and his merit.”

His works as published from 1867 to 1890 include

“Condensed Novels,” “Poems,” “The Luck of Roaring Camp
and Other Sketches,” “East and West Poems,” “Poetical Works,”
“Mrs. Skaggs’ Husbands,” “Echoes of the Foothills,” “Tales of
the Argonauts,” “Gabriel Conroy,” “Two Men of Sandy Bar,”
“Thankful Blossom,” “Story of a Mine,” “Drift from Two
Shores,” “The Twins of Table Mountain and Other Stories,” “In
the Carquinez Woods,” “On the Frontier,” “By Shore and
Ledge,” “Snowbound at Eagles,” “The Crusade of the
Excelsior,” “A Phyllis of the Sierras.” One of Mr. Harte’s most
popular late novels, entitled “Three Partners; or, The Big Strike
on Heavy Tree Hill,” was published as a serial in 1897. Though
written while the author was in Europe, the vividness of the
description and the accurate delineations of the miner character
are as strikingly real as if it had been produced by the author
while residing in the mining country of his former Western
home.

SOCIETY UPON THE STANISLAUS.

reside at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful
James;

I am not up to small deceit or any sinful games;

And I’ll tell in simple language what I know about the row

That broke up our Society upon the Stanislow.

But first, I would remark, that it is not a proper plan

For any scientific gent to whale his fellow-man,

And, if a member don’t agree with his peculiar whim,

To lay for that same member for to “put a head” on him.

Now nothing could be finer or more beautiful to see

Than the first six months’ proceedings of that same Society,

Till Brown of Calaveras brought a lot of fossil bones

That he found within a tunnel near the tenement of Jones.

Then Brown, he read a paper, and he reconstructed there,

From those same bones, an animal that was extremely rare;

And Jones then asked the Chair for a suspension of the rules,

Till he could prove that those same bones was one of his lost
mules.

Then Brown he smiled a bitter smile, an’ said he was at fault,

It seems he had been trespassing on Jones’s family vault;

He was a most sarcastic man, this quiet Mr. Brown,

And on several occasions he had cleaned out the town.

Now, I hold it is not decent for a scientific gent

To say another is an ass,—at least, to all intent;

Nor should the individual who happens to be meant

Reply by heaving rocks at him, to any great extent.

Then Abner Dean, of Angel’s, raised a point of order, when

A chunk of old red sandstone took him in the abdomen;

And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and curled up on the

floor,

And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more;

For, in less time than I write it, every member did engage

In a warfare with the remnants of the palæozoic age;

And the way they heaved those fossils, in their anger, was a
sin,

’Till the skull of an old mammoth caved the head of Thompson

in.

And this is all I have to say of these improper games,

For I live at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James;

And I’ve told in simple language what I knew about the row

That broke up our society upon the Stanislow.

DICKENS IN CAMP.
BOVE the pines the moon was slowly drifting,

The river sang below;

The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting

Their minarets of snow.

The roaring camp-fire, with rude humor, painted

The ruddy tints of health

On haggard face and form, that drooped and fainted

In the fierce race for wealth

’Till one arose, and from his pack’s scant treasure

A hoarded volume drew,

And cards were dropped from hands of listless leisure

To hear the tale anew.

And then, while shadows ’round them gathered faster,

And as the firelight fell,

He read aloud the book wherein the Master

Had writ of “Little Nell.”

Perhaps ’twas boyish fancy,—for the reader

Was the youngest of them all,—

But, as he read, from clustering pine and cedar

A silence seemed to fall.

The fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows,

Listened in every spray,

While the whole camp with “Nell” on English meadows

Wandered and lost their way.

And so, in mountain solitudes, o’ertaken

As by some spell divine,

Their cares drop from them like the needles shaken

From out the gusty pine.

Lost is that camp, and wasted all its fire,

And he who wrought that spell;

Ah! towering pine and stately Kentish spire,

Ye have one tale to tell!

Lost is that camp! but let its fragrant story

 Blend with the breath that thrills

With hop-vines’ incense, all the pensive glory

That thrills the Kentish hills;

And on that grave, where English oak and holly,

And laurel-wreaths entwine,

Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly,

This spray of Western pine!

EUGENE FIELD.
’ .

the fourth day of November, 1895, there was many a sad home in
the city of Chicago and throughout America. It was on that day
that Eugene Field, the most congenial friend young children ever
 had among the literary men of America, died at
the early age of forty-five. The expressions of
regard and regret called out on all sides by this
untimely death, made it clear that the character
in which the public at large knew and loved
Mr. Field best was that of the “Poet of Child Life.” What gives
his poems their unequaled hold on the popular heart is their
simplicity, warmth and genuineness. This quality they owe to the
fact that Mr. Field almost lived in the closest and fondest
intimacy with children. He had troops of them for his friends and
it is said he wrote his child-poems directly under their
suggestions and inspiration.

We might fill far more space than is at our command in this

volume relating incidents which go to show his fondness for
little ones. It is said that on the day of his marriage, he delayed
the ceremony to settle a quarrel between some urchins who were
playing marbles in the street. So long did he remain to argue the
question with them that all might be satisfied, the time for the
wedding actually passed and when sent for, he was found
squatted down among them acting as peace-maker. It is also said
that on one occasion he was invited by the noted divine, Dr.
Gunsaulus, to visit his home. The children of the family had
been reading Field’s poems and looked forward with eagerness
to his coming. When he arrived, the first question he asked the
children, after being introduced to them, was, “Where is the
kitchen?” and expressed his desire to see it. Child-like, and to
the embarrassment of the mother, they led him straight to the
cookery where he seized upon the remains of a turkey which had
been left from the meal, carried it into the dining-room, seated
himself and made a feast with his little friends, telling them
quaint stories all the while. After this impromptu supper, he
spent the remainder of the evening singing them lullabies and
reciting his verses. Naturally before he went away, the children
had given him their whole hearts and this was the way with all
children with whom he came into contact.

The devotion so unfailing in his relation to children would

naturally show itself in other relations. His devotion to his wife
was most pronounced. In all the world she was the only woman
he loved and he never wished to be away from her. Often she
accompanied him on his reading tours, the last journey they
made together being in the summer of ’95 to the home of Mrs.
Field’s girlhood. While his wife was in the company of her old
associates, instead of joining them as they expected, he took
advantage of her temporary absence, hired a carriage and visited
all of the old scenes of their early associations during the happy
time of their love-making.

His association with his fellow-workers was equally

congenial. No man who had ever known him felt the slightest
hesitancy in approaching him. He had the happy faculty of
making them always feel welcome. It was a common happening
in the Chicago newspaper office for some tramp of a fellow, who
had known him in the days gone by, to walk boldly in and blurt
out, as if confident in the power of the name he spoke—“Is
’Gene Field here? I knew ’Gene Field in Denver, or I worked
with ’Gene Field on the ‘Kansas City Times.’” These were
sufficient passwords and never failed to call forth the cheery
voice from Field’s room—“That’s all right, show him in here,
he’s a friend of mine.”

One of Field’s peculiarities with his own children was to

nickname them. When his first daughter was born he called her
“Trotty,” and, although she is a grown-up woman now, her
friends still call her “Trotty.” The second daughter is called
“Pinny” after the child opera “Pinafore,” which was in vogue at
the time she was born. Another, a son, came into the world when
everybody was singing “Oh My! Ain’t She a Daisy.” Naturally
this fellow still goes by the name of “Daisy.” Two other of Mr.
Field’s children are known as “Googhy” and “Posy.”

Eugene Field was born in St. Louis, Missouri, September 2,

1850. Part of his early life was passed in Vermont and
Massachusetts. He was educated in a university in Missouri.
From 1873 to 1883 he was connected with various newspapers
in Missouri and Colorado. He joined the staff of the Chicago
“Daily News” in 1883 and removed to Chicago, where he
continued to reside until his death, twelve years later. Of Mr.
Field’s books, “The Denver Tribune Primer” was issued in 1882;
“Culture Garden” (1887); “Little Book of Western Friends”
(1889); and “Little Book of Profitable Tales” (1889).

Mr. Field was not only a writer of child verses, but wrote
some first-class Western dialectic verse, did some translating,
was an excellent newspaper correspondent, and a critic of no
mean ability; but he was too kind-hearted and liberal to chastise
a brother severely who did not come up to the highest literary
standard. He was a hard worker, contributing daily, during his
later years, from one to three columns to the “Chicago News,”
besides writing more or less for the “Syndicate Press” and
various periodicals. In addition to this, he was frequently
traveling, and lectured or read from his own writings. Since his
death, his oldest daughter, Miss Mary French Field (“Trotty”),
has visited the leading cities throughout the country, delivering
readings from her father’s works. The announcement of her
appearance to read selections from the writings of her genial
father is always liberally responded to by an appreciative public.

OUR TWO OPINIONS. ¹

 S two wuz boys when we fell out—

Nigh to the age uv my youngest now;

Don’t rec’lect what ’twuz about,

Some small diff’rence, I’ll allow,

Lived next neighbors twenty years,

A-hatin’ each other, me ’nd Jim—

He havin’ his opinyin uv me

’Nd I havin’ my opinyin uv him!

Grew up together, ’nd wouldn’t speak,

Courted sisters, and marr’d ’em, too

’Tended same meetin’ house oncet a week,

A-hatin’ each other, through ’nd through.

But when Abe Linkern asked the West

F’r soldiers, we answered—me ’nd Jim—

He havin’ his opinyin uv me

’Nd I havin’ my opinyin uv him!

Down in Tennessee one night,

Ther was sound uv firin’ fur away,

’Nd the sergeant allowed ther’d be a fight

With the Johnnie Rebs some time next day;

’Nd as I was thinkin’ of Lizzie ’nd home,

Jim stood afore me, long ’nd slim—

He havin’ his opinyin uv me

’Nd I havin’ my opinyin uv him!

Seemed like we knew there wuz goin’ to be

Serious trouble f’r me ’nd him—

Us two shuck hands, did Jim ’nd me,

But never a word from me or Jim!

He went his way, and I went mine,

’Nd into the battle’s roar went we—

I havin’ my opinyin uv Jim

’Nd he havin’ his opinyin uv me!

Jim never come back from the war again,

But I haint forgot that last, last night

When waitin’ f’r orders, us two men

Made up and shuck hands, afore the fight;

’Nd, after it all, it’s soothin’ to know

That here I be, ’nd yonder’s Jim—

He havin’ his opinyin uv me

’Nd I havin’ my opinyin uv him!

¹ From “A Little Book of Western Verse” (1889). Copyrighted

by Eugene Field, and published by Charles Scribner’s
Sons.
 LULLABY. ¹
AIR is the castle up on the hill—

Hushaby, sweet my own!

The night is fair and the waves are still,

And the wind is singing to you and me

In this lowly home beside the sea—

Hushaby, sweet my own!

On yonder hill is store of wealth—

Hushaby, sweet my own!

And revellers drink to a little one’s health;

But you and I bide night and day

For the other love that has sailed away—

Hushaby, sweet my own!

See not, dear eyes, the forms that creep

Ghostlike, O my own!

Out of the mists of the murmuring deep;

Oh, see them not and make no cry,

’Till the angels of death have passed us by—

Hushaby, sweet my own!

Ah, little they reck of you and me—

Hushaby, sweet my own!

In our lonely home beside the sea;

They seek the castle up on the hill,

And there they will do their ghostly will—

Hushaby, O my own!

Here by the sea, a mother croons

“Hushaby, sweet my own;”

In yonder castle a mother swoons

While the angels go down to the misty deep,

Bearing a little one fast asleep—

Hushaby, sweet my own!

¹ From “A Little Book of Western Verse” (1889). Copyrighted

by Eugene Field, and published by Charles Scribner’s
Sons.

A DUTCH LULLABY. ¹
YNKEN, Blynken, and Nod one night

Sailed off in a wooden shoe—

Sailed on a river of misty light

Into a sea of dew.

“Where are you going, and what do you wish?”

The old moon asked the three.

“We have to come to fish for the herring-fish

That live in this beautiful sea:

Nets of silver and gold have we,”

Said Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sung a song,

And they rocked in the wooden shoe,

And the wind that sped them all night long

Ruffled the waves of dew;

The little stars were the herring-fish

That lived in the beautiful sea;

“Now cast your nets wherever you wish,

But never afeared are we”—

So cried the stars to the fishermen three,

Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw

For the fish in the twinkling foam,

Then down from the sky came the wooden shoe,

Bringing the fishermen home.

’Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed

As if it could not be;

And some folks thought ’twas a dream they’d dreamed

Of sailing that beautiful sea.

But I shall name you the fishermen three:

Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,

And Nod is a little head,

And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies

Is a wee one’s trundle-bed;

So shut your eyes while mother sings

Of wonderful sights that be,

And you shall see the beautiful things

As you rock in the misty sea,

Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three—

Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.
 ¹ From “A Little Book of Western Verse” (1889). Copyrighted
by Eugene Field, and published by Charles Scribner’s
Sons.

THE NORSE LULLABY. ¹

F “A L B W V ” (1889).

HE sky is dark and the hills are white

As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night,

And this is the song the storm-king sings,

As over the world his cloak he flings:

“Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep!”

He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:

“Sleep, little one, sleep!”

On yonder mountain-side a vine

Clings at the foot of a mother pine;

The tree bends over the trembling thing

And only the vine can hear her sing:

“Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep—

What shall you fear when I am here?

Sleep, little one, sleep.”

The king may sing in his bitter flight,

The tree may croon to the vine to-night,

But the little snowflake at my breast

Liketh the song I sing the best:

“Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;

Weary thou art, anext my heart,

Sleep, little one, sleep.”

¹ Copyright, Charles Scribner’s Sons.

 WILL CARLETON.
“ .”

EW writers of homely verse have been more

esteemed than Will Carleton. His poems are to
be found in almost every book of selections for
popular reading. They are well adapted to
recitation and are favorites with general
audiences. With few exceptions they are portraitures of the
humorous side of rural life and frontier scenes; but they are
executed with a vividness and truth to nature that does credit to
the author and insures their preservation as faithful portraits of
social conditions and frontier scenes and provincialisms which
the advance of education is fast relegating to the past.

Will Carleton was born in Hudson, Michigan, October 21,

1845. His father was a pioneer settler who came from New
Hampshire. Young Carleton remained at home on the farm until
he was sixteen years of age, attending the district school in the
winters and working on the farm during the summers. At the age
of sixteen he became a teacher in a country school and for the
next four years divided his time between teaching, attending
school and working as a farm-hand, during which time he also
contributed articles in both prose and verse to local papers. In
1865 he entered Hillsdale College, Michigan, from which he
graduated in 1869. Since 1870 he has been engaged in
journalistic and literary work and has also lectured frequently in
the West. It was during his early experiences as a teacher in
“boarding round” that he doubtless gathered the incidents which
are so graphically detailed in his poems.

There is a homely pathos seldom equalled in the two

selections “Betsy and I Are Out” and “How Betsy and I Made
Up” that have gained for them a permanent place in the
affections of the reading public. In other of his poems, like
“Makin’ an Editor Outen Him,” “A Lightning Rod Dispenser,”
“The Christmas Baby,” etc., there is a rich vein of humor that
has given them an enduring popularity. “The First Settler’s
Story” is a most graphic picture of pioneer life, portraying the
hardships which early settlers frequently endured and in which
the depressing homesickness often felt for the scenes of their
childhood and the far-away East is pathetically told.

Mr. Carleton’s first volume of poems appeared in 1871, and

was printed for private distribution. “Betsy and I Are Out”
appeared in 1872 in the “Toledo Blade.” It was copied in
“Harper’s Weekly,” and illustrated. This was really the author’s
first recognition in literary circles. In 1873 appeared a collection
of his poems entitled “Farm Ballads,” including the now famous
selections, “Out of the Old House, Nancy,” “Over the Hills to the
Poorhouse,” “Gone With a Handsomer Man,” and “How Betsy
and I Made Up.” Other well-known volumes by the same author
are entitled “Farm Legends,” “Young Folk’s Centennial
Rhymes,” “Farm Festivals,” and “City Ballads.”
 In his preface to the first volume of his poems Mr. Carleton
modestly apologizes for whatever imperfections they may
possess in a manner which gives us some insight into his literary
methods. “These poems,” he writes, “have been written under
various, and in some cases difficult, conditions: in the open air,
with team afield; in the student’s den, with ghosts of unfinished
lessons hovering gloomily about; amid the rush and roar of
railroad travel, which trains of thought are not prone to follow;
and in the editor’s sanctum, where the dainty feet of the muses
do not often deign to tread.”

But Mr. Carleton does not need to apologize. He has the true
poetic instinct. His descriptions are vivid, and as a narrative
versifier he has been excelled by few, if indeed any depicter of
Western farm life.

Will Carleton has also written considerable prose, which has

been collected and published in book form, but it is his poetical
works which have entitled him to public esteem, and it is for
these that he will be longest remembered in literature.

BETSY AND I ARE OUT. ¹

RAW up the papers, lawyer, and make ’em good
and stout,

For things at home are cross-ways, and Betsy and

I are out,—

We who have worked together so long as man and wife

Must pull in single harness the rest of our nat’ral life.

“What is the matter,” says you? I swan it’s hard to tell!

Most of the years behind us we’ve passed by very well;

I have no other woman—she has no other man;

Only we’ve lived together as long as ever we can.

So I have talked with Betsy, and Betsy has talked with me;

And we’ve agreed together that we can never agree;

Not that we’ve catched each other in any terrible crime;

We’ve been a gatherin’ this for years, a little at a time.

There was a stock of temper we both had for a start;

Although we ne’er suspected ’twould take us two apart;

I had my various failings, bred in the flesh and bone,

And Betsy, like all good women, had a temper of her own.

The first thing, I remember, whereon we disagreed,

Was somethin’ concerning heaven—a difference in our creed;

We arg’ed the thing at breakfast—we arg’ed the thing at tea—

And the more we arg’ed the question, the more we couldn’t

agree.

And the next that I remember was when we lost a cow;

She had kicked the bucket, for certain—the question was only
—How?

I held my opinion, and Betsy another had;

And when we were done a talkin’, we both of us was mad.

And the next that I remember, it started in a joke;