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Surnames: Johnston
Classification: Biography
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Message Board Post:
20th Century Souvenir Edition of the Ossian News. January 1st, 1900, page 78.
Rem A. Johnston is recognized in this community as pre-eminently a literary man His
opinions on all matters pertaining to literature and history are sought by many, and his
use of English is generally accepted as incontrovertible authority. He was born in
Ossian, September 18, 1875, and, very early in life, manifested an eagerness for knowledge
that is exceptional, even in the most precocious children. He graduated from the Ossian
High School in 1892, having made a phenominal (sic) record in his grades, and leaving an
individual impress upon class-mates and teachers that suggested strong probabilities of
future distinction in the world of letters. For three years following his graduation, he
gave his attention largely to the study of English, which for him held peculiar charms.
In 1895 he entered Wabash College with a view of securing a thorough classical education
in that institution; but his physical strength was not sufficient to bear the unusual
strain accompanying the unremitting application he there employed, and he was obliged to
give up school in 1896. Returning home very much prostrated, he nevertheless continued to
prosecute his studies, as health permitted, along lines that were most inviting to him.
In short story writing he found a sphere where his fertile imagination could expand, and
he stored his library with scores of manuscripts, a few of which have been published in
popular magazines. The formation of English verse, however, fascinated him more than any
other department of composition; and critics of high standing have graciously conceded the
productions of his pen to rank in a class with the world's most noted poets.
Mr. Johnston's talent is unquestionably a rare one. His inventions are peculiarly
original, his style unique and diversified, while his language is well-chosen and strong.
THE NEWS acknowledges with pleasure numberless favors at his hand that have elevated the
literary standard and added to the value and interest of the reading matter contained in
its columns.
It is the purpose of this promising young author to publish a small volume of songs and
lyrics in the near future, which will give the reading public an opportunity to judge of
the merit of his verses. We subjoin the following poem from his pen, an exquisite,
smooth-flowing conception, of graceful metre; and one whose lofty sentiment marks the deep
current of a mind of large resources and careful cultivation.
To-morrow.
We live too much in our To-morrow --
The day that never comes --
We reap in it, we beg, we borrow,
We pay our tax on joy and sorrow,
And long -- and long -- for that To-morrow --
To-morrow never comes!
To-morrow's flowers, To-morrow's singing, --
Sweet laughter runs to tears, --
To-morrow -- think what it is bringing! --
To-morrow -- hope is ever springing
Up just to hear To-morrow's singing,
When laughter runs to tears.
We hope -- the hope dies out in fever --
The Wide Eyes look in ours, --
We pray, and then we hear forever
The wings of sighs -- Ah, God! deliver,
And make us fearless by that fever
To face those Eyes in ours!
To-morrow's dawn is never given
To break upon us all:
We wake before To-morrow's heaven
Wakes for us, and our lives are riven --
Though we implore the Light is given
Never unto us all!