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There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924031386786 -^ ' THE HEART MUST GLOW BEFORE f^-# flC%^ fl^ f^ ^"^ TONGUE CAN CUILO'* ana ^tt of ^locutton OR How TO READ AND Speak %y 7rank H> 3^enna, ^.3lt., W.S.Slc pMBRACING A COMPREHENSIVE AND SYSTEMATrC SERIES OF EXERCISES FOR GESTURE. CALISTHENICS AND THE CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE; WITH A COLLECTION OF NEARLY ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY LITERARY GEMS FOR READING OR SPEAKING In four parts I. THEORETICAL . . , 11. VOCAL CULTURE . . in. HELPS TO THE STUDY . IV. READINGS AND RECITALS Designed for the school room, the home circle, and for private study, as well as for the use of readers and SPEAKERS GENERALLY A. \ \ Cp&vCd COPYKIGHI Mv FRANK. H. FENNU 1C78. (DE-3.y, T-en, Th-in, TB-ey, A-«-ure, Sh-e, C-ea-j-e, Z-one; 7-ay, CA-at. Note. — The above lists of words and sounds should be practiced often, always taking care to give them correctly 3.ni forcibly. After the vowel sounds are thoroughly mastered, and ease and accuracy are acquired in the use of the consonant combinations, the voice will have received a polish and a degree of refinement that will command atten- tion and respect wherever it may be heard. Too much attention cannot be given to the subject of Articulation, for on this depend correct pronunciation and the ability to speak in such a manner as to be readily understood. Frequent pr.iclice on difficult combinations will give facility in articulation. Always be careful to give every letter correctly, especially when the letter hns its short sound, as i in ability — e in solemn. Do not say " sol«m" " abilaty." Always be on the alert for errors in your own pronuncia- tion, — the dictionary should be freely consulted. The following exercises will be found useful in training the vocal organs to readily adapt themselves to difficult pronunciation : THEORY OF ELOCUTION. 23 TABLE OF EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. I. Pronounce forcibly : I. Bubble, \iht, hid, hldst, h/z (Bubbl'st, bubbled, etc.) Handle, Asleep on the ranks of the dead : Under the sod and the dew. Waiting the judgment day, Umer the one, the Blue, L'ndei the other, the Grey. Meanwhile the shapeless iron mass Came moving o'er the wave, As gloomy as a passing hearse. As silent as the grave. Fast Rate is used to express sentiment, lively, joyous, impassioned a))d vehement. 38 THEORY OF ELOCUTION. Examples. 1. And see ! sheslirs! She starts — she moves — she seems to feel The ihnll of life along her keel, And, spurning with her fool the ground. With one exulting, joyous l)ound. She leaps into the ocean's arms. 2. Hurrah ! the foes are moving ! Hark to the mingled din Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin! The fiery duke is pricking fast across St. Andre's plain, \Vilh all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne. Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, Charge for the golden lilies — upon them with the lance ! A thous.-md spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow white crest, And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star. Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. Pause is the suspension of the voice. Poetic and Ora- torical Yscai^s express emotion, Jihetorical Vaasa are those demanded by the sense a.id structure of a sentence. Grammatical Pauses are those indicated by the usual marks of punctuation, and Prosodial Pauses are those used only in verse. But in this connection it is thought best to make three divisions, viz. : Natural Pause, Long Pause , and Sliort Pause. Natural Pause is used in unimpassioned language and ordinary descri/>tion. Example. Have you heard the tale of the Aloe plant. Away in the sunny clime? By humble growth of a hundred years It reaches its l")looming time; And then a wondrous bud at its crown Breaks into a thousand flowers; This floral queen, in its blooming seen. Is the pride of the tropical bowtrs. But the plant to the flower is a sacrifice. For it blooms but once, and in blooming dies. Th£.ORY OF ELOCUTION. 39 Long Pause usually accompanies slow rate or a change of seritiment, and marks a suspension of the sense. Example. Pause a moment. I heard a footstep. Listen now. I heard it again. But it is going from us. It sounds fainter — still fainter. It is gone. Short Pause accompanies fast rate, and is characteristic of haste, fea^, etc. Example. John, be quick ! Get some water ! Throw the powder overboard ! It cannot be reached ! Jump into the boat, then ! Shove off! There goes the powder — thank Heaven, we are safe ! STRESS. Stress has much to do with the power, beauty and general effect of a sentence. It is that finishing, polishing touch which causes the thought to stand out in relief — throwing it vividly upon the background, with its profile well defined, its lights and shadows harmoniously blended — rendering it complete, beautiful and symmetrical. Tliere are six distinct kinds of Stress, viz. : Initial, Final, Median, Compound, Thorough and Tremulous. Initial Stress (=— ) is an explosive force on the first part of a syllable or word. It is characteristic of lively, joyous description. ExAMPLia. 1. There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower; There's a litter of winds in that beechen tree ; There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea. 2. 1 come from haunts of coot and hern; 1 make a sudden sally. And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. 40 THEORY OF ELOCUTIOV. The Final Stress (— =) is an explosive force on the latter part of a syllable or word. It is used in expressing defiance, determination, or intensity of feeling or purpose. Examples. A breath of submission we breathe not j The sword we have drawn we will sheathe not. " Art thou a friend to Roderick?" " j\o." " Thou dar'st not call thyself a foe ?" " I dare, to him, and all the band He brings to aid his murderous hand." Median Stress or the Swell (-=;==-), characteristic of the Ort'/^^W Quality and Effusive Form, is most marked in the sublime, but it is found in all classes of literature, sometimes occurring on a single word and again continu- ing through an entire sentence. Examples. 1. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll ! 2. Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God. 3. Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlast- ing doors ; and the King of glory shall come in. Compound Stress (=»-=) is a union of the Initial and Final in one word. It is indicative of surprise, irony and determination. Examples I. Gone to be vtarricd ! Gone to swear ^ peace / Shall Lewis have Blanche, and Blanche Iheie provinces f And this man Is now become a god. THEORY OF ELOCUTiON. 41 3. ril have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak : I'll have n,y bond ; and therefore speak no more. ril not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool. To shake the head, relent, and sigh, zxiA yield To Christian intercessors. Follow not : I'll have no speaking : I'll have my bond. Thorough Stress (in;) is an abrupt heavy force, used in com?nand, fearlessness and braggadocio. Examples. 1. Blaze, vith your serried columns! I will not bend the knee ! The shatl. O. Let every one who would merit the Christian natne repress such a feeling. II. O. I charge you as men and as Christians to lay a testruiit on all such dispositions. A. O. Ye gods, with/;o/(/ your vengeance. D. L. The hand of affection shall smooth the ^urf for yoilr last pillow H. L. The cloud of adversity threw its gloom over all hl3/?-ojpects. A. L. So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud that svvathds, as with a purple shroud, Benledi's distant hill. RIGHT HAND VERTICAL. H. F. Arise ! meet and repel the foe 1 A. F. "Farbiil it, Lord of Heaven 1 11. O, His arm warded ^Ihe blow. A. O. May Heaven az'f?-^ the calamity I H. L. Out of my sight, thou serpent 1 //. B. Away, delusive phantom. THEORY OF ELOCUTION. 47 BOTH HANDS SUPINE. D. F. All personal feeling he de/aiUed on the altar of his country's good. //. F. Listen, I vcaplore you, to the voice of reason I A. F, Haiti universal Lord. D. O. Evey personal advantage he sur?-^«dered to the common good. H O. IVe/come 1 once more to your enrly home ! A. O. Hail! holy Light 1 D. L. I utterly renounce all the supposed advantages of such a station. //. L. They yet slept in the wide aliyss of possibility. A. L. Joy, joy ioxeverl BOTH HANDS PRONE. Z>. F. Lie lightly on him, earth — his step was light on thee. H F. Now all the blessings of a glad father rest on thee I A F, Blessed be Thy «aOT^, O Lord, Most High I D. O. "We are in Thy sight but as worms of the dust. H. O. May the grace of God abide with you ioxeverl A. O. And let the triple rainbow rest o'er all the mountain tops. />. X. Here let the tumults of passion forever cease! H. L. Spread wide around i\\t heaven-breathing calm I A. L. Heaven opened wide her ever during gates. 4! 4!8 THEORY OF ELOCUTION. BOTH HANDS VERTICAL. H. F. Hence, hideous spectre ! A. F. Hide your faces, holy angels ! // O. Far from our hearts be so inhuman a feeling. A. O. Angels and ministers of grace, defend us! H. L. The gates of death in sunder break. A. L. Melt and d\ipel, ye spectre doubts! PART II. Vocal Cultujie f<») OUTLINE. Cultivation op the Voice. Development. I Habit. < Pkoper Bkeathing. Quality. ( Bkeathing Exercises. Drill, a Vocal Dkill. I^Calisthe.mcs. (SO) Vocal Culture. The Cultivation of the voice is necessary to an easy anu correct use of it. To secure ease in its use, we develop it ; to enable us to use it correctly, we improve its quality. DEVELOPMENT. The Development, or increased power of the voice it secured by a proper habit of breathing, by vocal drill, and l"i exercises in breathing and calisthenics. Note. — In Elocution, we begin at tlie lowest step — breathing; after this follow, in natural order, articulation and modulation with their various subdivisions. Breathing is the simplest act we perl'orm — we aim to render it correct ; conversation is the next step — we endeavor to acquire a correct use of the conveisational voice as the foundation of a knowledge of Elocution, Proper Breathing consists in taking in and giving out full inspirations of pure air in such a manner as not to interfere with speech. It should be practiced until deep breathing becomes a fixed habit. EXERCISES IN BREATHING. 1. Take an erect position and breathe deeply and very slowly, observing that the lungs are well filled with air at each inspiration. 2. Breathe slowly, allowing the air to escape through the mouth, raising the arms with each inflation and lowering them as the breath is expelled. 3. Take a deep insoiration and allow the breath to suddenly escape Ihrniigh I he mouth. 15^V 02 VOCAL CULTURE. 4. Breathe quickly through the mouth, allowing the lungs to become filled wuh each breath. 5. Take a full breath, then place the hands, palms inward, just above the hips, and bend the body as far as possible without incon- venience forward, to the right ba^-kward and to the left. These exercises will tend to enlarge the breathing ca- pacity and strengthen the muscles employed. In addition to an increase of vocal power, the general health cannot fail to be benefited by a judicious exercise of the breathing organs. In Vocal Drill, the object should be to obtain a full, pure time. The sentences under the SimpU and Orotund qualities of voice may be practiced freely to secure this end. lAHLE OF EXERCISES FOR VOCAL CJLTURE. The following exercises are taken from the selections found in this book. They are designed to give purity and power to tie voice, and strength and vigor to the vocal organs. They should be practiced often, not long at a time, with the best quality of voice at command. In giving the Natural and Intense Forms, be particular to employ a full, rich, resonant tone. Natural Form. 1. Over the hill the farm-boy goes, 2. Maud Muller, on a summer's day. Raked the meadow sweet with hav. They've left the school-house, Chailie, where years ago we sat And shot our paper l)ullets at the master's time-worn hal ; The hook is gone on which it hung, the master sleepeth now Where schoolljoy tricks can never casf a shadow o'er hi-, bruw. VOCAL CULTURE. 53 'Twas on Lake Erie's broad expanse, One l)right midsummer day, The gallant Kteamer Ocean Queen Swept proudly on her way. Blight faces clustered on the deck, Or, leaning o'er the side, Watched carelessly the feathery foam That flecked the rippling tide. Intense Form. I. ' Impregnable their front appears, All horrent with iirojected spears. Z- It must not lie : This day, this hour Annihilates the invader's power! All Switzerland is in the field — She will not fly; she cannot yield; She must not fall ; her better fate Here gives her an immortal date. 3. 'Tis a cold, bleak night 1 with angry roar The north winds beat and clamor at the door; The drifted snow lies heaped along the street. Swept by a blinding storm of hail and sleet ; The clouded heavens no guiding starlight lend. But o'er the earth in gloom and darkness bend; Gigantic shadows, by the night lamps thrown, Dance their weird revels fitfully alone. 4. Toll ! Roland, Toll I Bell never yet was hung, Between whose lips there swung So grand a tongue 1 Calling Voice. 1. Hi! Harry Holly! Halt— and tell A fellow just a thing or two; You've had a furlough, been t.i see How all the folks in Jersey do. 2. " To all, the truth we tell I we tell !" Shouted in ecstasies a bell. " Come all ye weary wanderers, see ! Our Lord has made salvation free I i-i4 VOCAL CULTURE. Repent, believe, have faith, and then Be saved, and praise the Lord, Amen 1 Salvation's free, we tell! we telU" Shouted the Methodistic bell. J. Blow on ! this is the land of liberty I 4. A voice came down the wild wind — " Ho ! ship ahoy !" its cry : " Our stout Three Bells of Glasgow Shall stand till daylight by." As the captain from her taffrail Sent down his hopeful cry : "Talte heart! hold on!" he shouted, " The Three Bells shall stand by." 5. Charco' ! CAarco' ! Hark, o ! Hark, o I Transitions. (HIGH). I. Ve crags and peaks, I'm with you once again! i. " Ye purifying waters, swell !" Rang out the clear-toned Baptist bell. 3. " Ring ! oh, ring for liberty !" 4. Hurrah ! hurrah ! a single 6eld hath turned the chance of war. Hurrah ! hurrah 1 lor Ivry and Henry of Navarre ! (LOW). 1. 'Tis midnight's holy hour — and silence now Is brooding, like a gentle spirit, o'er The still and pulseless world. Hark ! on the winds The bell's deep tones are swelling — 'tis the knell Of the departed year. 2. With woeful measures wan Despair — Low, sullen sounds his grief beguiled; A solemn, strange and mmgled air ; 'Twas sad by fits — by starts 'twas wild. VOCAL CULTURE. h,> In his darl<, carved oal-) No more ! oh, never more. (•) There is a silence ( . ) where hath been no sound ; (•) There is a silence (.) where no sound may be ; In the cold grave, under the DEEP, DEEP sea. Or in wide desert, (.) where no life is found; (•) Which hath heen mute, (.) and still must sleep profound. (■ — ) No voice is hushed, no foot treads silently; (.) Hut clouds and cloudy shadows wander free. That never spoke over idle ground — VOCAL CULTURE. 61 (-^) But in green ruins, in the desolate walls of antiqus palaces, Where man hath been, Though the dun fox and wild hyena call, And owls that flit continually between SHRIEK 1 to the echo, and the low winds moan; There the true silence is self-conscious and alone. 23. * * A banner with the strange device, " Excelsior!" * * And like a silver clarion rung — " Excelsior!" * * And from his lips escaped a groan, " Excelsior!" * * And loud that clarion voice replied, "Excelsior!" * * But still he answered, with a sigh, " Excelsior!" A voice replied, far up the height, "Excelsior!" * * A voice cried through the startled air, "Excelsior!" * * That banner with the strange device, "Excelsior!" * * A voice fell, like a falling star — "Excelsior!" * * 24. ( — ) High on a throne of royal state, which FAR Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, Or WHERE the gorgeous east, with richest hand Showers on her kings, barbaric pearls and gold,, Satan exalted sat {^Repeat). 25. Setting aside his high blood's royally. And let him be no kinsman to my liege. I do DEFY him and 1 spit at him. Call him — a slanderous coward, and a villain ; Which to maintain, I would allow him odds. And meet him, were I lied to run a-foot. Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, Or any other ground inhabitable, I 1 Wherever Englishman durst set his foot. Meantime let this defend my loyally ; By all my hopes most falsely doth he LIE. 62 VOCAL CULTURE. 26. ( — ) I hear them marching o'er the hill, I hear Ihem faintfr, fainter still ! I hear them marching o'er the hill, I hear them fainter, fainter still! I hear them marching o'er the hill, I hear them faintfr, fainter still ! (• — ) They stole, they stole, they stole ray child away They stole, they stole, they stole my- child away ! 27. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more. Or close the wall up with our English dead ! O, when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger, Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Di-guise fair nature with hard-favored rage; Then lend to the eye a terrible aspect ; Aye, set the teeth and stretch the nostrils wide. Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To its full height. On ! on ! you noble Enj;lish, Whose blood is set from fathers of war proof. Cry, " Heaven fc>r Harry, England and St. George!" Vavcoal.'CA 28. Charco — " ^ oal, charcoal. ( Transitions in Force and Pitch.') O O O ooOOO 29. Calisthenic Exercises, by giving grace ami strength to the body, increase the p07ver of the voice as well as retidet gesticulation more easy and natural. VOCAL CULTURE. 63 TABLE OF CALISTHENIC EXERCISES. Exercise I. — Free Arm Exercise. Close the hands and allow them to rest easily on the chest, elbows down. Count to eight, and with every odd number throw the arm lorcibly in the direciion indicated, allowing it to return on the even count. Begin with the rjg/it hand, making four movements (eight counts) ; then use the lefi hand ; then both hands shnultaneoudy ; then both hands alternately, letting them both rest on the last count. * /. Th7'ow the hands downward. z. Throw the hands laterally. J, Throw the handi vpward. 4. Throw the hands front. Exercise II. — Supine Hand Exercise. Place the luinds in the same position, use slower time, throwing out the .nirns gracefully in a curved line, allowing the hands to open easilj as they are thrown out, and to close as they return. 1. Throw the hands downward. 2. ThroTU the hands laterally., J. Throw the hands upward. ^, Throw the hiands front. Exercise III. — Clapping Exercise. Position same as before, similar to Exercise I ; throw out the right hand twice, then the left band twice, both hands together twice, then clap the hands three times. 64 VOCAL CULTURE. I. Downward. a. Laterally, J. Upward, 4. Front. Exercise IV. — Wave Movement. Place the tips of the fingers upon the shoulders; throw out the hands IS in Exercise II. J . Upward. ^. Laterally. J. Downward. Exercise V. — Head Movements. 1. Count as before, throwing the \\&a.A forward twice, backmara twice, then alternately lour times, making sixteen counts in all. 2. Use sixteen counts and throw the head to the right, to the left, ^nd alternate. Exercise VI. — Body Movements. 1. Bend the body yorroa^-a? twice, io -f- lo"g 00. Long « = short i -f- long 00. oi ^ short ■\- short j. oa = short -f- long 00. This arrangement gives us forty theoretical simple sounds. The second sound of long a and o, as above, is called the vanish. It is light and delicate, always heard in graceful pronunciation. TABLE OF ELEMENTARY SOUNDS. I. Vocal. 1. Simple. _ a. Long : a, a, e, 00. b. Short : a, a, 6, 1, o, u, 00. 2. Diphthongal : a, I, <5, O, oi, ou. 3. Coalescents : a, i, 6, £l. II. Aspirates. I . Pure : h. {Explodents : k, p, t, ch, wh. f f, s, sh, th. Continuants i \ III. Combined, -j (. 1, m, n, r, v, i., zh, th, ng. y Suppressives : b, d, g, j, w, y. 78 HELPS TO THE STUDY. The Trilled "R." — Some diversity of opinion exists in regard to the "trilled R." Like a tasty flourish in penmanship, it often adds much to the rendering of a passage; but, like the flourish, it may be misplaced. I' is borrowed from the Continental languages, and, though foreign, cannot properly be regarded as a mark of affecta. tion. Yet it should be used sparingly, seldom or never in the most serious discourse. In light description and imitative modulation it may be employed, taking care, however, that it is never used unless immediately tollowed by a vowel sound. Transition and Repetition. — Practice in articula- tion should be directed specially to those exercises in which transitions or repetiiions of the £ame sound occur, as these will be quite difficult of mastery. See that both sounds are correctly and distinctly given, and that dii» organs of speech pass rapidly from one to the otlier EXAMPLES IN TRANSITION. S, sh. Thij jy^ip. s, y. I shall mss ^oii. s, z. Lejj zeal. sli.i. rref,4 zephjTS. St, s. Sweeteji* jong. st, sh. Larger/ j^(>p. z, sh. 1 , \ Ks jure a» yoxi go EXAMPLES IN REPf -nTIOlJ X> S, s. Fabe jounds. sh, sh. Yi.yxsh, Ciar'otte! i, z. As zealous. St, St. Severej^ stonns. 2. Eight great gray geese grazing gai/y into Greece. 3. A Storm ariseth on the sea. A mclel vessel i'; straggling amidst the war of the elements, quivering and shivering, shiinking and hit- tling like a thinking being. The merciless, racking whirlwinds, like frightful fiends, howl and moan, and send sharp, shrill shrieks through the creaking cordage, snapping the sheets and masts. The sturdy sailors stand to their tasks, and weather the severest storm of the season. — Practical Elocution. 4. He spoke reasonably, philosophically, disinterestedly, and yet HELPS TO THE STUDY. 79 particularly, of the unceremoniousness of their communicability, and peremptorily, authoritatively, unhesitatingly declared it to be wholly inexplicable. — Practical Elocution. 5. A day or two ago, during a lull in business, two little boot- blacks, one white and one black, were standing at the corners doing nothing, when the while bootblack agreed to black the black boot- black's boots. The black bootiilack was of course willing to have his boots blacked by his fellow bootblack, and the bootblack who had agreed to black the black bootblack's boots went to work. When the bootblack had blacked one of the black booiblack's boots till it shone in a manner that would make any bootblack proud, this bootblack who hjd agreed to black the black bootblack's boots refused to black the other boot of the black bootblack until the black boot- black, who had consented to have the white bootblack black his boots, should add five cents to the amount the while bootblack had made blacking other men's boots. This the bootblack who've boot had been blacked refused to do, saying it was good enough for a black boot- black to have one boot blacked, and he didn't care whether the boot that the white bootblack hadn't blacked was blacked or not. This made the bootblack who had blacked the bl.ick bootblack's boot as angry as a bootblack often gets, and he vented his black wrath by spitting upon the blacked boot of the bl.ick bootblack. This roused the latent passions of the black bootblack, and he proceeded to boot the white bootblack with the boot which the white bootblack had blacked. A fight ensued, in which the white bootblack who had refused to black the unblacked boot of the black bootblack blacked the black bootblack's visionary organ, and in which the black boot- black wore all the blacking off his blacked boots in booting the white bootblack. Phonetic Spelling. — As literal spelling consists in separating a word into the letters contained in it, pho- netic spelling is the process of analyzing it with reference to the sounds of which it is composed. Each letter in a word may or may not represent a sound. Man contains three letters and three sounds; than, four letters and three sounds ; plague, six letters and four sounds ; cow, three letters and ';w-i founds; though, six letters and two sounds ; owe, three letters ^nd one sound. By studying the table of elementary sounds on pages 21 and 22, it can easily be determined which of them unite to form diphthongs; these are considered in phonetic spelling as single elements. To spell phonically, three processes are required, viz. : ist. Pronounce the word correctly and distinctly. 2d. Give its several sounds (not letters) in their order, pronounc- ing syllables. 3d. Pronounce the word. All silent ktteri 80 HELPS TO THE STUDY. are to be disregarded, as the sounds only are to be pro- nounced. Thus: "Plough. P-l-ou. Plough." "Day. D-a. Day " . As the coalescents a, e, o, and u are always accompanied by r, it is advised that they be not separated in spelling, thus: "Dare. D-ar. Dare." A letter often has the sound of another letter; this is called an equivalent or a substituted sound, as in deign, which would be spelled thus: "Deign. D-a-n. Deign." At first it would be well to prolong the words to great length, that the elements may be the. more readily distinguished. Phonetic spelling affords excellent practice for the vocal organs. It teaches correct pronounciation and accuracy in speech. The exercise should always be accompanied by much energy and a good tone of voice. Pronunciation. — The subject of Pronunciation should receive special attention by the learner, as a good voice and a distinct articulation tend to magnify any defect in utterance. He should have constantly at hand a good dictionary, either Webster's or Worcester's (one is pro- bably as good as the other, both receiving the sanction of educated speakers), and refer to it frequently. Read carefully the introductory portion, Principles of Pronun- ciation, etc., and let it be your standard of speech. You will find therein many words marked with a pronunciation different from that given by good speakers near you; but bear in mind the fact that the marking there given is always in accord with the usageof our best literati, and it should be preferred to local usage. It may here be mentioned that there is hardly a book the perusal of which will so well repay you for the time devoted to its study as a good English dictionary. It ib an excellent plan to keep a prcperly-marked list of those words that you cannot pronounce with certainty, adding to it as you meet new words. WORDS FREQUENTLY MISPRONOUNCED. Class I. The following words require short a, as in at : Arrow, barrow, farrow, harrow, marrow, narrow, sparrow, fallow, wheel- barrow, etc. HELPS TO THE STUDY. gl Class z. The following should have Italian a, as ir. arm : Ha, balm, calm, palm, psalm; calf, half; wrath; aunt; laugh; launch; mustache, etc. C/ass J, The following and similar words should not be pro- nounced with short a nor Italian a : Staff, quaff; craft, draft ; mass, pass; fast, last; ask, task; asp, clasp; dance, glance; chant, plant, etc. C/ass jf. Coalescent e should not be pronounced like coalescent «. Examples : Earn, verge, verse, mercy, prefer, etc. Class J'. The following should have short o (as in odd, not) ; On, gone, dog, off, often, soft, long, song, strong, throng, coral, orange, foreign, torrid, coronet, corridor, correlate, frontispiece, etc. Class 6. Uor ew should never be pronounced like long oo unless preceded by the sound of r, ch, sh or zh. Examples : Dew, duty, duel, gewgaw, juice, lute, new, sue, tune, whew, etc. It should be oo in the following: Rude, brute, fruit, chew, chute (pronounced shoot), chusite, sure, azure, etc. [Note. — When u or ew is not preceded by the sound of r, ch, sh or zh, it has the regular sound of ti, which is that of short i and long oo pronounced as closely together as possible. Thus : Cube is correctly pronounced kyoob, not kewb nor koob.'\ Class y. The following have the accent on the last syllable : Dis- coui'.^e (noun and verb), recess, research, resource, romance, address (noun and verb), ally (noun and verb), tontour, finance, routine, canine, robust, occult, verbose, etc. Class 8. A, you, the, that, for, from, etc., take an obscure vowel sound (nearly lilce short 71, as in run) when they occur as unemphatic words in a sentence. The before a vowel sound, however, takes the sound of short i. EXERCISE IN PRONUNCIATION. An Indian, attracted by the aroma of the coffee and the broth, arising from the bivouac and moving down the path, met a bombastic bravo who was troubled with bronchitis. The Indian, being in disha- bille, was treated with disdain by this blackguard, who called him a dog and bade hira with much vehemence and contumely to leave his domain, or he would demonstrate with his carbine the use of a coffin and a cemetery. The Indian calmly surveyed the dimensions of his ICuropean antagonist and opponent, and, being sagacious and robust, and having all the combativeness of a combatant, shot this ruffian in tile abdomen with an arrow. A young patriot with a black mustache, coming from the museum, laughingly said, " Bravo ! you should be nationally rewai Jcu by receiving the right of franchise, for I witnessed the altereatiou. ■•nd the evidence is irrefragable and indisputable that you ha^e 'eaj' "^d a nauseous reptile." 82 HELPS TO THE STUDY. I now make this inquiry : Will not the matrons in this country and the patrons of our schools inaugurate some system that will give :vn impetus to the interesting study of our language ? If half the leisuie moments were thus spent, in lieu of reading some despicable romance, we should be wiser than we are. Foreign Pronunciation. — In reading, foreign words are often found which are utterly unpronounceable to one not having at least an elementary knowledge of tlie lan- guage to which they belong. To pronounce such words according to English rules would in many cases be allow- able; but this could not apply to Gi'if/Zi^ and similar names. Clearly, the only correct way is to approach as nearly as possible to the native pronounciation, except in words and names thoroughly anglicized. To pronounce Paris Paree would be pedantry. For the benefit of those who may not have the advan- tage of a knowledge of the principal languages of Europe, it is thought best to insert here, for reference, short tables of pronounciation, which cannot fail to be of service to the student. ELEMENTS OF CONTINENTAL PRONUNCIATION. I. Vowels. Long a as in arm. Short a as in at, Loni; e as iu a\^. Short e as in ^nd. Long i ox y as in ?ve. Short i ox y as in «t. Long u as in ooz^. II. Diphthongs. Ae, or 5, like English a or short e. ai, ay, like English e. au, like English ow. ti, cy, like English a (with vanish.) oe, or o (German o), formed by sounding long a with lips in position for long o, ue, or ii (French or German ti), formed by sounding long e with tip; placed for long oo, III. Consonants. Gi hard before a, Oy or u. r, rolled, or trilled. s (between vowels), usually like English t, •w, often like v (not dental). th, like i. HELPS TO THE STUDY. 8^ Latin. (Roman Pronunciation.) Ae, like English i. oe, like English oy. ui, like English we. jf like English _y. V, like English w. n, like English tig (before palatals). is, like English ps. ch, like English k. ph, like English/. c 2ia&g, always hard. s, always sharp. Latin. (Modern Pronunciation.^ Ae and oe, like English ee. au, like English aw. eu, like English ew, ei and ui, like English eye. es and os (final) like English eez and «<• cA, like English i. c and ^, soft before e, i, y, ae, oe, eu. Vowels, same as in English. No silent letters. German. Ei, ey, like English i. eu, du, like English oi. ie, like English e. b (at end of word) like English/. d (at end of word) like English /. c (before e, i, or y) like English ts j, like English J/. sch, like English sh. w, like English v (not dental). ii, like English ts. ch, guttural. g, always hard. French. At, ay, like English a. au, eau, like English o. i (final), like EngUsh^. ie (at end of word), like English e. oi, like English wah. ou, like English oo (long). e, often silent. eu, like German o. u, French or German it. HELPS TO THE STUDY. ch, like English sh (except in Greek derivations). ^(t'^f°'^^^>^'°'^-^|like English 2/5. gu (before e or i), like English g: (hard). //(preceded by i), like English j)/ (formerly Sp. //). qu (before vowel), like English k. gn, like Spanish n. h, scarcely pronounced. "' I (at end of a syllable), nasal. Spanish. / (final), like English , e. b (between vowels), lite English v (not dental). ^ {e or i following) | jjj^^ ^.v^gXis^ th (as in thin). ch (Catalan dialect), like English k. d (between vowels) \ j;, j, j;^,^ ^^ ^^^ ,„ ^^ j (/ (at end of word) J *= ^ ■" g (before ^, 2 or_y, "| j \ like English h (strongly aspirated) gu (before e or z), like English g (hard). qu (before e or i), like English k. h, scarcely pronounced. /, nearly like d. II, in two syllables, as villa (vecl-ya). a, in two syllables, as canon (can-yon). Italian. /(final), like English ee. c (Defore ^ and i), like English ch. ch, like English k. g (before e, i or y), like English j. gh, like English^ (hard). y, like Eriglish_j'. sc (before e or t), like English sh. sch (before e or i), like English sk. z, like English dz. zz, like English ts. //, scarcely pronounced. gl (followed by i), like Spanish //. gn, like Spanish ft. MODULATION. Modulation concerns the proper management o( th' voice in speech, and treats of those changes that should HELPS TO THE STUDY. 55 be mxJe in it to best express the sentiment. When per- fectly at our ease we use the unemotional language of simple conversation. When we are influenced by feelings of adoration or sublimity, we use tlie same form of speech, but the language becomes grander, the tones more full and round; we then use the Orotund. When greatly agitated by intense emotions of the mind, such as (error, anger, etc., we lose the perfect control of our voices, the tension of the vocal cords is increased or relaxed, and we use the aspirated harsh, cold, steely tones designated' Impure Quality. Were we to represent the Simple Pure voice on paper, it might be done with this STYLE of type, while the Orotund would require THIS STYLE, larger, but each letter of the same shape, as the Orotund is but a symmetrical enlargement of the Simple Pure. In the same mrnner, Impure Quality should be represented in distorted type, possibly by ITALIC CAP- ITALS. The pur? voicx- »s used both in speech and song; in the former, however, we use speaking tones, and in the latter singing tones. The difference between music and speech lies in the manner of transition from one degree of pitch to another. In speech the movement is concrete, the voice continually sliding upward and downward, never remain- ing at one point of the scale except in the monotone. The singing voice passes from one pitch to another by a distinct step called discrete movement. Elocution re- quires a culture of the speaking voice, though the quality is improved by a cultivation of singing tones. Smging develops pure voice; speaking improves the other quali- ties and the various modulations. Music is a succession of similar sounds following one another in a regular order, though each sound of itself may be unmusical. In Elocution, guard against the use of singing tones except in practice. As we have seen, the tones of voice are caused by the action of breath upon the vibrating vocal cords. The greater is the tension of these cords, the higher will be the pitch. In terror, they are strained to the utmoi-t, and the result is a high-pitched tone, or shriek. In despair and anger, the vocal cords are relaxed, and the result is the Pectoral quality, very low in pitch. 86 HELPS TO THE STUDY. EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE IN PITCH. lo. (As high as possible.) " Strike for the sires who left you free .'" 9. (Extremely high.) " I repeat it, sir, let it come, let it come !' 8. (Very high, spirited.) " Three millions of people armed in. the holy cause of liberty." 4. 7. (High.) " The sounding aisles of the dim woods rang." 5. 6. (Rather high.) " With music I come from my balmy home." 6. 5. [^Middle. Firm, natural.) " A vision of beauty appeared on the clouds." 7. 4. (Rather low.) " Friends, Romans, Countrymen !" 3. (Low. Modest.) "And this is the night 1 most glorious night 1" 2. (Very low. Sublime.) " Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, — roll !" I. (As low as possible. Solemn.) "Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought!" Note. — The above examples for practice in Pitch, as well as the exercise in Rate, on page 87, are taken from Frobisher's " Voice and Action." They are recommended as excellent for the purpose for whicli they are designed. EXERCISE IN INTERROGATION. The Past — where is it ? It has fled 1 The Future ? It may never come. Our friends departed ? With the dead. Ourselves? Fast hastening to the tomb. What are earth's joys? The dews of morn. Its honors? Ocean's wreathing foam. Where's peace ? In trials meekly borne. And joy? In Heaven — the Christian's home. — Kidd's Elocution. The follovjring extract will be found valuable for practice in Rate. It is from Henry Bateman's " Ship on Fire." . . . The bright sun Lights up the deep blue wave, and favoring breeze Fills the white sails. . . K;.-el— Fire!— Fire!— Fire! I. 9- 2. 8. 3- 7- 4- 6. HELPS TO THE STUDY. 87 Scorching Fmoke in mnny a wreath, Sulphurous blast of heated air, Grim presentment of quiclc death, Crouching fear and stern despair, Kist, to what the Master saith, — " Steady, steersman, steady there!" — Ay I ay' " To the mast-head !" — it is done, — ** Loolc to leeward !" — scores obey, — " And to windward !" — many a one Turns, and never turns away; Steadfast is the word and tone, " Man the boats, and clear away I" — Ay! ay I Then it comes, — " A sail ! a sail !" — Up from prostrate misery, Jp from heart-break woe and wail. Up to shuddering ecstasy ; — ' Can so strange a promise fail ?" " Call the Master, let him see !" — Ay ! ay I Silence 1 Silence ! Silence ! — Pray I Every moment is an hour, Minutes long as weary years, While with concentrated power, Through the haze that clear eye peers, — " No," — " Yes,"- — " No," — the strong men cower. Till he sighs,— faith conquering fears, — " Ay! ay!" Pah ! — a rush of smothered light Bursts the staggering ship asunder,— Lightning flashes, fierce and bright,— Blasting sounds, as if of thunder,— Dread destruction wins the fight Round about, above, and under. — Ay ! ay 1 EXERCISE IN RATE. (As quick as possible.) "Quick as the lightning's flash that illumes the night." (Very quick.) " Charge for the golden lilies, now, upon them with the lance 1" (Quick.) " Hurrah 1 the foes are moving!" (Rather quick.) " Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a-wreck." (Alediuin Time.) " What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted 1" 8g Il£LPS to TMk SWl:)'^. 6. 4. (Rather slow.) " Slowly and sadly we laid liim down." 7. 3. (Slow.) " The bell strikes one! we take no note of lime but from its loss." 8. 2. (Very slow.) " Which, like a wounded snake, drags its slow len5;th along." 9. I. (The slowest time.) •' Slow tolls the village clock the drowsy hour." " Emphasis," it has been said, "is in speech what coloring is in painting. It admits of all possible degrees, and must, to indicate a particular degree of distinction, be more or less intense, according to the groundwork or current melody of the discourse." It consists of any peculiarity of utterance which will call special attention to a particular word or words in a sentence. Thus it will be seen that emphasis may be of force, stress, quality, pitch, or rate. I. Emphasis of Force. Study to show thyself a man I II. Of Stress. 1. Jnitial : Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts ! Dash him to pieces' 2. Median : What a piece of work is man ! How noble in reason I how infinite in faculties ! In form and moving-how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god! 3. Final: Ye gods, it doth amaze me ! A man of such a. feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world. And bear the palm alone! 4. Compound : Arm ! Arm ! ye heavens, against these per- jured kings! 5. Thorough : I ask, why not " traitor" unqualified by an epithet? I will tell him. It was because he durst not. It was the act of a coward who raises his arm to strike, but has not courage to give the blow. III. Of Quality. I . Aspirate : A lowly knee to earth lie bent ; his father's hand he took. What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit sliook f Helps to the study. a'j 2, Pectoral : Vou souls of geese, That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat ! Pluto and hell ! All hurt behind ; backs red and faces pale ^JvCn flight and agued fear I Aleiid, and charge home. Or, by Iheflres of heaven, I'll leave theyi'." And make my wars on you : look to't. Ce ,ie on ! 3. Guttural ; Thou stands't at length before m-, undisgui.-cd, Of all earth's groveling crew the most arcursed. Thou worm I thou viper I to thy native earth Return ! Away I Thou art too base for man To tread upon. Thou scum I thou reptile 1 IV. Of Pitch. 1. JJigh : They strike / hurrah/ the fo, t has surrendered f Shout I shoitt ! my warrior boy. And wave your cap, and clap your hands for joy I 2. Low : The flng of the old Revolution Swear firmly to serve and uphold. That no treasonous breath of pollution Shall tarnish one star of its fold. Swear! And hark, the deep voices replying. From the graves where your fathers are lying, Swear, O Swear I V. Of Rate. 1. Slow: Then answers he, "Ah, Hal, Til try ; But in my throat there's something chokes." 2. Fast : lie look-ed across the grassy lea. To riyht, to left, " Ho, Enderby .'" They rang " The Biides of Enderby." Note. — Many of the above exercises are selected from Hamill's Elocution. No definite rule can be given for the use of emphasis. It is so subtile, its shadings so delicate, that it can never be cabled to inflexible rules. But in general we should emphasize — 1. Words, phrases or clauses that are particularly significant. 2. Words, phrases or clauses that contrast. 3. Anything repeated for the sake of emphasis. 4. A succession of objects or ideas. tjr) HELPS TO THE STUDY . Word Individuality, Expressive Intonation, Imita- tive Modulation and Sound to Sense are terms used to express the act of playing upon words, sounding the syllables, or intoning the vowel in such a way as to more fully bring out the meaning of the word by its sound. (See page 42.) The stroke upon the vowel resembles that given the notes of a piano. Practice the following words, intonating so as to best bring out the meaning: Rich, poor, little, great, brisk, smooth, rough, noble, large, broad, beast, dove, round, massive, strength, brilliant, sublime, powerful, grasping, glory, terrible, whirlwind, dazzling, gold, silver, joyous,- slowly, victory, ragged, meekly, lordly, sparkling, glitter- ing, bursting, repose. Also practice selections on pages 127, 146, 160, 172, 179, 191, 234, 240, 250, 272, 281, and 340. The following was given during the reign of Charles II. : DR. WALLIS'S LIST OF DERIVATIVES. 1. St (Latin sto) denotes firmness or strength. Examples: Stand, stay, staff, stop, stout, steiidy, stake, stamp, etc. 2. Sir — ■ indicates violent force or energy. Examples: Strive, stress, strength, stripe, etc. ■;.. 77/;- — implies forcible motion. Examples: Throw, throb, thrust, threaten, thraldom, thrill, etc. 4. Gl — indicates smoothness or silent motion. Examples : Glib, glide, glow, etc. 5. T/- — denotes obliquity or distortion. Examples : Wry, wrest, wrestle, wrangle, wring, wrong, wrath, etc. 6. Siv — implies silent agitation or lateral motion; as sway, sweep, swerve, swing, swim, etc. 7. St — denotes gentle fall or less obseivable motion. Sly, slide, slip, slit, slow, slack, sling, etc. 8. Sp — indicates dissipation or expansion. Spread, sprout, sprinV 1:, split, spill, spring, etc. 9. — ash indicates something acting nimbly and sharply. Crash, dash, rash, flash; lash, slash, splash, etc. HELPS TO THE STUDV. %\ lO. — /«-? denotes something acting more obtusely and dully. Crush, brush, hush, gush, blush, etc. "The Engine," and the following extract from "When the Cows Come Home," will be found good for practice: When klingle, klangle, klingle. Far down the dusty dingle, The cows are coming home; Now sweet and clear, now faint and low, The airy tinklings come and go. Like chimings from the far-off tower, Or patterings of an April shower That make the daisies grow ; Ko-ling, ko-lang, kolinglelingle. Far down the darkening dingle, The cows come slowly home. And old-time friends, and twilight plays. And starry nights and sunny days. Come trooping up the misty ways When the cows come home. Through violet air we see the town, And the summer sun a-sliding down, And the maple in the hazel glade Throws down the path a longer shade, And the hills are growing brown; To-ring, to-rang, toringleringle. By threes and fours and single The cows come slowly home. The same sweet sound of worldless psalm. The Siime sweet June-day rest and calm, The same sweet smell of buds and balm, When the cows come home. With tinkle, tankle, tinkle. Through fern and periwinkle. The cows are coming home. THE ENGINE.— ^«o». With a clang ! With a clank and a clang ! With a clamor, a clank, and a clang! With clatter, and clamor, a clank, and a clang f With veins fnH of fire, and the artery steam, Roused to the pulse of a feverish dream ; With a gray plume trailing, fleecy and pale. 02 HELPS TO THE STUtjy. Like mist-boats sailing to sea with the gale; With the ring and the rattle of lever and wheel, And the blow and the battle of track and of steel; With the tremulous spuing, like the launch of a winj; From the condor's cliff, where the wild vines cling; An eagle of iron, with sinews of steel. And blow of a pinion like avalanche peal; With talons of flame and a blaze in the blood, I tunnel the mountain and compass the flood; I startle the morning and shiver the noon; And splinter the cold, pnle rays of the moon ; From pine and from granite to orange and palm, From storm of sleet fury to zephyrs of balm; From Allegan summit to Michigan's wave, From the life of the East to tlie pioneer's grave, Dragging a train As a flying prisoner drags his chain; Climbing the grade Panting and sullen, but undismayed. Then away to the prairie with antelope speed. Belling the fore^^t and skimming the mead, Awaking the bear from its underground lair. And startling the deer to a leap in the air; Breaking the Indian's solitude rest. Pushing the buffalo far to the west ; Skirting the current with spur and with thong. Where the drain of the continent thunders along; ISIixing and mingling the races of men. Bearing the Aow in advance of the Then ! Then ceasing the rattle of lever and wheel, And parting the battle of track and of steel, And ending, at last, the roll and the race. And checking the flight into gradual pace — With clatter, and clamor, a clank, and a clang! With a clamor, a clank, and a clang 1 With a clank and a clank ! With a clang ! Analysis and Grouping. — In reading, it is necessary- first to analyze the thought, to decide in the mind what portions are most prominent, and these should receive greatest emphasis. The subordinate thoughts should be properly grouped together and expressed in such a manner as will clearly show them to be subordinate. To use a figure of speech, let the more important parts of a sen- tence stand in the foreground, giving them intensest light; the auxiliary thoughts nwy repose in the shadows of the background. SELPS TO THE STUDY. 93 In general, the subject, predicate, object and connec- tives of a sentence should receive emphatic force. Give the same degree of force to words having a close gram- matic connection, but separated from each other in the sentence. The intervening portions should be read parenthetically. EXAMPLE OF GROUPING. Go PREACH to the coward, thou death-telling seer I Or, if gory CuUoden so dreadful appear, Draw, dotard, around thy old toaverhig sight. This MANTLE, to cover the phantoms of fright. Transition is the art of changing easily, rapidly and completely from one modulation or form of voice to another; as from Simple Pure to Pectoral, Long Quantity to Short, High Pitch to Low, Gentle to Heavy, or Natu- ral to Explosive. It should be carefully practiced by advanced students, and, for this purpose, use the selec- tions oil pages 129, 164, 236, 237, 244, 250, 274, and 341. The two following selections will be found adrairah'e practice in Transition ; EGO AND ECHO.— >/w G. Saxe. I asked of Echo, th' other day, (Whose words are few and often funny,) What 10 a novice she could say Of courtship, love, and matrimony. Quoth Echo, plainly — "Matter o' money!" Whom should I marry ? — should it be A dashing damsel, gay and pert, A pattern of inconstancy ; Or selfish, mercenary flirt ? Quoth Echo, sharply — " Nary flirt P' What if, a-weary of the strife. That long has lured the dear deceiver. She promises to amend her life. And sin no more; Can I believe her? Quoth Echo, with decision — "Leave her /" But if some maiden with a heart On me should venture to bestow it. Pray, should I act the wiser part To take the treasure or forego it ? Quoth Echo, very promptly — "Co it/" 94 HELPS TO THE STUDY. But what if, seemingly afraid To bind her fate in Hymen's fetter, She vow she means to die a maid. In answer to my loving letter ? Quoth Echo, rather coolly — "Let her /" What if, in spite of her disdain, I find my heart entwined about With Cupid's dear, delicious chain. So closely that I can't get out? Quoth Echo, laughingly — "Get out !" But if some maid, with beauty blest, . As pure and fair as Heaven can make her, Will share my labor and my rest Till envious Death shall overtake her ? Quoth Echo [sotto voce) — " Ta/:e her /" THE LOSS OF THE HORNET. Call the watch ! call the watch ! " I/o ! the itarbinrd watch, ahoy 1" Have you heard How a noble ship so trim, like our own, my hearties, here, All scudding 'fore the gale, disappeared. Where yon southern billows roll o'er their bed so green and clear? Hold the reel / keep her full ! hold the reel ! How she flew athwart tlie spray, as, shipmates, we do now. Till her twice a hundred fearless hearts of steel Felt the whirlwind lift its waters aft, and plunge her downward bow ? Bear a hand ! Strike topgallants !■ mind your helm ! jump aloft I 'Twas such a night as this, my lads, a rakish bark was drowned. When demons foul, that whisper seamen oft. Scooped a tomb amid the flashing surge that never shall be found. Square the yards ! a double reef t Hark the blast! O, fiercely has it fallen on the war-ship of the brave. When the tempest fury stretched the stately mast All along her foamy sides, as Ihey shouted on the wave, "Bear a hand!'' Call the watch ! call the watch! "Ho ! the larboard watch, ahoy /" Have you heard How a vessel, gay and taut, on the mountains of the sea. Went below, with all her warlike crew on board. They who battled for the happy, boys, and perished for the free ? Clew, clew up fore and aft ! keep away I How the vulture bird of death, in its black and viewless form, Hovered sure o'er the clamors of his prey, While throueh all their dripping shrouds yelled the spirit of the storm ? Bear a hand ! HELPS TO THE STUDY. 95 Kow out reef s ! braa the yards ! lively there ! O, no more to homeward breeze shall her swelling bosom spread, I3ut love's expectant eye bid Despair Sot her raven watch eternal o'er the wreck in -ocean's bed. Boardyour tacks I cheerily, boys ! But for them. Their last evening gun is fired, their gales are overblown ; O'er their smoking deck no starry flag shall stream ; They'll sail no more, they'll fight no more, for their gallant ship's gone down. Bear a hand! Note. — In the above selection, " Ho ! | the starboard | watch, [ ahoy!" and "llo! | the larboard | watch, | ahoy!" should be given in a loud calling voice, wiih vowels sharply intonated, and with full Tailing slide on " ahoy!" On the line of command at the middle of each stanza and at the beginning of the second and fourth stanzas, the author would use falling slides on the first and second order, and sus- tained force on the third. Climax. — It has been previously stated in this work that a succession of objects or ideas should receive emphasis ; that is, each of the series should be made more emphatic than the one immediately preceding. This gives a con- stantly increasing einphatic scale. The extreme point of this scale is called the Climax. There the vocal efforts should reach their culmination, giving great strength to the sentence. EXAMPLES OF CLIMAX. 1. Days, months, years and AGES shall circle away. 2. Clarence has come I {■3\%e,jleeting, perjured Clarence I 3. I tell you, though you, though all the world, though an angel FROM HEAVEN should declare the truth of it, I would not believe it. 4. Let but the commons hear this testament, (which, pardon me, '. do not mean to read,) And they [l] would go and kiss dead C.xsar's woimds. And [2] dip their napkins in his sacred blood; Yea, [3] beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue. 5. Add to your faith virtue, and to virtue knowledge:, and to knowl- edge temperance; and to temper.ance patience; and to patience godliness; and to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity. % HELPS TO THE STUDY. 6. /,«*t their last feeble and lingering glance rather behold the gor- geous ensign of the republic, now known and honored through- i.ut tl.e eaith, still full high advanced, iis arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured — bearing for its motto no suchniiser- erable interrogatory as. What is all this worth? Nor those other words of delusioTi and folly, liberty first, and union after- ward — but everywhere^ spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds as they float over the sea and over the land, and iri every wind under the whole heavens, tliat other sentiment dear to every true American heart — liberty ««/s make a marked distinction between the conver- sational (or explanatory) and the oratorical or dramatic Vortions. Studiously avoid everything like an oratorical style in simple description or narration. Never appear in public without thorough preparation. HELPS TO THE STUDY. 103 and be sure that this is succeeded by a period of rest, that you may be in your best condition. Tone the voice just before beginning your vocal effort. In your approach, do not appear hurried ; but let your manner be graceful, and your bearing dignified. This will insure respect. Put yourself at your ease by a strong mental effort, and begin deliberately, gradually warming up with your subject. Never acquire the useless habit of drinking water during a vocal performance. As soon think of pausing in an address to eat as to drink ; there is as much propriety in one as in the other. Water will not supply the natural moisture of the vocal organs, and, if they are properly used, there is no necessity for artificial moistening. Pay special attention to the articulation, and let it always be distinct. Deliver the sounds sharply and cor- rectly, and your audience will appreciate your efforts, though they may not themselves know wherein lies the charm of the voice to which they listen. APPLICATIONS. As shown in the foregoing pages, the principles and rules of elocution find a practical application in every- day life. Everj sentence we utter, every word we speak, every tone of the voice, aiid every gesture, is but the natural outgrowth of the principles of the science and its application to the true art of expression. These prin- ciples and rules, when understood, may be intelligently applied to all forms of conversation, of reading, and of public speaking. This, while including in its scope every rational human being, embraces many professions as a whole, of which may be cited as examples the following : Actors, teachers, lawyers, ministers, lecturers, etc. The majority of these require nothing in this line farther than a general knowledge of elocution as here presented, while others demand a slight modification of these rules, in the form of a special application, as is noticeably the case with the actor, who requires a system of elocution mate- rially different from that of the orator, though both systems are based <^u common principles and emolov similar rules* 104 HELPS TO THE STUDY. We will make but two applications in the scope of this work — Dramatic Action and Pulpit Elocution. — The pulpit affords the broadest, freest exercise of the powers of the orator. In no other position has a man so wide a range for the use of his oratorical talent. Every branch of knowledge is an avenue through which he may wend his way, explaining the beau- ties and mysteries of the pathway to the multitudes that follow. The world is his field ; the whole arcana of knowledge is waiting to furnish the materials with which he may sway the masses. Taking "all knowledge" for his " province," and laboring zealously in the great field of human progress, his power is limited only by the com- pass of his own humanity. His mission is a noble one — • his object, to save the world. The instrument by which he hopes to achieve good is the human voice. This he should so cultivate and train that it performs its duty perfectly, else it will prove a hin- drance instead of an assistant. His manner, too, can aid or detract from his efforts, and it is of the utmost import- ance that he understand all the laws of gesture. In short, he should have so good a knowledge of every branch of the art that he may be a perfect master of all his powers ; that every thought shall be sent "ome with its full force ; that every intonation of his voice shall be rich with meaning ; that every gesture shall add to the convincing power of his argument, to the beauty of his description, the clearness of his narration, and the irresistible force of his logic. That this may be the case, it is absolutely necessary (i) that he have no unpleasant peculiarity of manner nor of pronounciation ; (2) that he possess a dignity befitting his station, and that this be not lowered by jocular or com- monplace remarks while in the pulpit; (3) that his voice and manner harmonize one with the other; (4) that he never betray a lack of self-mastery by allowing his voica to get beyond control, or by using such gestures as stamp- ing with the foot or striking the desk with the closed hand. These are noises, not oratory — sound, not sense. He will succeed best in his work who takes his position midway between inaction and dramatic action. He should HELfS 70 TIiE i,TL'DY. 105 not gesticulate too mucli nor too little ; but, above all else, lie should see that nothing in his verbiage, tone, enuncia- tion or gesture shall divert the attention of his audience from the sacredness of the subject and the occasion. He, of all men, should be a good, expressive reader, able to present the Scriptures in a manner worthy of their dignity, and to read the hymns with intelligence and force. (See Bible Reading, page 97.) A heavy, full, round tone of power carries with it a degree of conviction that no finely-rounded period of rhe- torical argument ever possessed. In conclusion, he should endeavor by all possible means to prove himself a man, that his words may receive char- acter from his daily example ; and, specially, let him study his style of delivery, for thereon depends more of success or failure than he is aware. DEAMATIC ACTIOF. Dramatic action differs from oratory, though it employs the same vocal expression. The orator is always himself, in his best condition; the actor acts an assumed character, which would often not be consistent with the dignity of the orator. The actor is an imitator — an impersonator, and he may make sentiment subordinate to action. His office is to entertain rather than to instruct. He must study to sustain the character which he has assumed, and, in order to successfully accomplish this, it is necessary to lay aside as far as possible his individuality, and to assume as completely as possible the personality of another. He, unlike the orator, may be extravagant, affected, or pas- sionate, as required. He may have recourse to scenery and surroundings in order the more fully to act his part, while the orator is compelled to resort entirely to his own powers. Hence, oratory is the higher, greater, more commendable art. In presenting these pages upon Dramatic Action, it is not the object of the author in any way to encourage a taste for pernicious or even questionable acting or theatre performance, but simply to apply the principles of elocu- ♦■•"'1 to the stage, and to show wherein lies the difference 106 HELPS TO THE STUDY. between the orator and the actor. In oratory, we may borrow certain gestures (termed Special Gestures) from the art of acting; hence, it is necessary for us to be in- formed as to the significance and proper method of using those gestures. THE FEET AND LOWER LIMBS. In acting, the moderate step may become a stride. Actors are permitted to move in a lateral direction, while the orator may only advance and recede from his audi- ence. The actor may also stamp, start or kneel. These demonstrations are forbidden the orator. The Trunk. — An erect position is the only one siutable to the dignity of the orator. In acting, grief depresses, and pfide throws the body backward. The Head and Eyes. — The head is raised in arro- gance, inclined in languor or indififeience, and hung in shame. The head may take the following positions: Inclined, Erect, Assenting, Denying, Shaking, Tossing, Aside. Considered in reference to the direction of the eyes, it may be Averted, Downward, Upward, Around, or on Vacancy. The Countenance may take the expression of anger, shame, contempt, pride, despair, terror, or any other violent passion. In oratory this is not admissible. The Hand may take the following positions: Hollow, Holding or Grasping (according to the degree of energy). Applied (palms together). Clasped, Crossed (upon the breast), Folded (fingers of right hand between the thumb and forefinger of the left). Inclosed (back of one within the palm of the other). Touching (points of thumb and fingers of each hand brought into light contact). Wringing (clasped, raised, lowered, and separated at wrists but without fingers disengaged). Enumerating (first finger of r;'ght hand laid successively upon first and other fingers *». ':he left. HELPS TO THE STWY. |07 The Arms may be Folded (crossed and enclosing each other). A-kimbo (one or both hands on hips, elbows ex- tended at one or both sides), Heposed (elbows nearly rest- ing on hips, one hand holding the wrist of the other — a female position). ARM AND HAND COMBINED. In designating the manner of motion. Gesture may be considered as Noting (the hand being drawn back and raised, then j,dvanced and by a gentle stroke depressed), Projecting (arm thrust forward in the direction in which the hand hiay be pointing), Retracting (arm drawn back preparatory to Projecting or to avoid an object), Waving (fingers pointing downward, then the hand flung smartly upward), the Flourish (in which the hand describes a circle or part of a circle above the head), the Sweep (the hand making a curved movement, descending from the opposite shoulder and rising high above the head ; or the reverse, changing in the first case from the Supine to Vertical, and in the second from Vertical to Supine. Sometimes a Double Sweep is used, combining both move- ments). Beckoning (with whole hand or simply the fore- finger), Repressing (the opposite of Beckoning), Advancing (the hand moved slowly forward and upward to the horizontal, the whole body aiding the action, and a step in advance being taken), Springing (the hand, having nearly arrived at the limit of the gesture, springs suddenly up to it by a quick movement of the wrist). Striking (hand and arm), Bending (preparation for Striking), Recoiling (a return to position after striking). Throwing (arm flung outward in the direction of a person addressed). Clinching (clenched hand raised threateningly), Collecti7ig (arm sweeps inward toward the body), Shaking (tremulous mo- tion given to arm and hand), Pressing (the hand being laid upon any part, the elbow is raised and the fingers contracted). Rejecting (vertical hand pushed toward the object, head averted]. 108 uELPS TO THE STUDY. For convenient 'eference we append the following LIST OF IMPERSONATIONS, Etc. Irish Jimmy Butler and the Owl Page • '60 Bridget as a School-Teacher 176 Orator Puff. 236 Irishwoman's Letter 25^ Miss Malony on the Chinese Question 293 Shamus O'Brien (Dignified Irish) 351 A Day at Niagara 40S Negro : Uncle Dan'l's Apparition 200 Christmas Night in the Quarters 361 Yankee : Laughing in Meeting 32.4 Betsey and I are Out 355 Spanish : The Spanish Duel I29 Scotch : Charlie Machree 268 John and Tibbie's Dispute 341 Relief of Lucknow 345 The Annuity 380 Female : How Jamie Came Home 173 The Burning Ship i86 Mother and Poet 261 Charlie Machree (Scotch) 268 Itfa/e and Female : The Modern Cain 124 The Spanish Duel 129 Maud Mullen. 152 Curfew Must not Ring To- Night 155 Alonzo and Imogine 164 Bridget as a School-Teacher 176 The Bridal Feast 207 Kate Ketchem 228 Mr. Fogg's Story 232 Samuel Short's Success 242 Maclaine's Child 283 The Polish Boy 298 Wreck of the Hesperus 307 John and Tibbie's Dispute 341 The Little Black-eyed ;^ebel 359 HELPS TO THE STUDY. 109 Man, Woman, and Boy : Mona's Waters ...., Pagt . 139 Man and Boy : Painter of Seville 167 Child: Nobody's Child , 150 Little Jim 239 Annie and Willie's Prayer 253 Wreck of the Hesperus .....,, 307 Katie Lee and Willie Gray 335 Old Age : The Model Church 265 Waiting for the Children 317 Granny's Trust 377 Feebleness : Magdalena ••• 129 The Miner's Death 227 Sjieclral: The Famine 142 Alonzo and Imogine 164 CAaracler : The Vagabonds 204 The Revolutionary Rising 213 Major Slott's Visitor 216 The Rum Maniac 220 The Gracious Answer 225 The Miner's Death 227 Orator Puff 236 Old Times and New 244 Order for a Picture • • • 257 Our Folks 266 Horatius 295 How He Saved St. Michael's 3°! Archie Dean 33° Independence Bell 33^ Betsey and I are Out 355 On the Ice 3^7 Kentucky Belle 372 The Demon Ship 375 Dawn of Redemption 3^3 Saracen Brothers 3^4 How " Ruby" Played 403 no HELPS TO THE STUDY. Calling Voice; The High Tide Page . 117 The Famine 142 Burning of Chicago 146 Attack of the Cumberland 187 The Three Bells 199 Charcoal Man 212 The Quiet Street 237 Charge of the Light Brigade 249 John Maynard 270 Arnold Winkeiried 274 Evening at the Farm 281 Ride of Collins Graves, , ■ , , t • f t • > t > • • < 378 Vocal Exercises ; Passing Away 127 The Inquiry 172 Belfry of Ghent 179 Face Against the Pane 183 Great Bell Roland igi The Three Bells 199 Cataract of Lodore 234 The Bells 240 Creeds of the Bells 250 Rock of Ages 264 Bugle Song ,,.,.,.,,,,,,. 272 Temperance Selections : The Modern Cain ^ 124 Apostrophe to Cold Water 159 How Jamie Came Home 173 The Bridal Feast 207 Cataract of Lodore 234 Creeds of the Bells 250 Nobody's Child 150 Orator Puff. 236 The Rum Maniac 220 The Vagabonds 204 The Harvest of Rum , 389 I'ART IV. Readings AND Recitals Om) ' 'Tis not enougli the voice be sound and clears 'Tis modulation that must charm the ear. When desperate heroines grieve with tedious moan And whine their soiiows in a see-saw tone, The same soft sounds of unimpassioncd woef Can only make the yawning hearers doze. The voice all modes of passion can express, 'I'.' at marks the proper word with proper strej&. But none emphatic can that actor call. Who lays an equal emphasis on all. .... Some placid natures fill the allotted scene With lifeless drone, insipid, and serene ; While others thunder every couplet o'er. And almost crack your ears with rant and roar." LtOYDi Ci«) Eeadings and Recitals. NIGHTFALL. I^This exquisit*^ poetical gem sl.5uM be given in the effusive form of voice, gentle force — as in a dreamy reverie. Play noon th» words, and bring ou' their full expression.] Alone I stand > On either hand [n gathering gloom stretch sea and Jand; Beneath my feet, With ceaseless beat, The waters murmur low and sweet. Slow falls the night: The tender light Of stars grows brighter and more bright. The lingering ray Of dying day Sinks deeper down and fades away. Now fast, now slow. The south winds blow, And softly whisper, breathing low ; With gentle grace They kiss my face. Or fold me in their cool embrace. Where one pale star. O'er waters far. Droops down to touch the harbor bar, A faint light gleams, A light that seems To grow and grow till nature teems With mellow haze; And to my gaze Comes proudly rising, with its rays No longer dim, The moon; its rim In splendor gilds the billowy brim. 8 (Hi) 1] 114 READINGS AJMD RECITALS. I watch it gain The heavenly plain; Behind it trails a starry train — While low and sweet The wavelets beat Their murmuring music at my feet. Fair night of June ! Yon silver moon Gleams pale and still. The tender tune. Faint-floating, plays, In moonlit lays, A melody of other days. 'Tis sacred ground; A peace profound Comes o'er my soul. I hear no sound. Save at my feet The ceaseless beat Of waters murmuring low and sweet. W. W. Ellsworth. THE CLOSING TEAR. [To be read with great intensity and expression; avoid monotony. J 'Tis midnight's holy hour — and silence now Is brooding, like a gentle spirit, o'er The still and pulseless world. Hark! on the winds The bell's deep tones are swelling — 'tis the knell Of the departed year. No funeral train Is sweeping past; yet, on the stream and wood, With melancholy liglit, the moonbeams re^t Like a pale, spotless shroud ; the air is stirred As by a mourner's sigh ; and on yon cloud That floats so still and placidly through heaven. The spirits of the seasons seem to stand — • Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's solemn forw. And Winter with his aged locks — and breathe, In mournful cadences that come abroad Like the far \\-ind-harp'5 wild and touching wail, A melancholy dirge o'er the dead year. Gone from the Earth lorever. READINGS AND RECITALS. llo 'Tis a time For memory and for tears. Within the deep, Still chambers of the heart, a spectre dim, Whose tones are like the wizard voice of Time Heard from the tomb of ages, points its cold And solemn finger to the beautiful And holy visions that have passed away, And left no shadow of their loveliness On the dead waste of life. That spectre lifts The coffin-lid of Hope, and Joy, and Love, And, bending mournfully above the pale, Swegt forms that slumber Ihere, scatters dead flowers O'er what has passed to nothingness. The year Has gone, and, with it, many a glorious throng Of happy dreams. Its mark is on each brow, Its shadow in each heart. In its swift course. It waved its sceptre o'er the beautiful — And they are not. It laid its pallid hand Upon the strong man — and the haughty form Is fallen, and the flashing eye is dim. It trod the hall of revelry, where thronged The bright and joyous — and the tearful wail Of stricken ones is heard where erst the song And reckless shout resounded. It passed o'l. The battle-plain, where sword, and spear, and shield Flashed in the light of mid-day — and the strength Of serried hosts is shivered, and the grass, Green from the soil of carnage, waves above The crushed and moldering skeleton. It came. And faded like a wreath of mist at eve; Yet, ere it melted in the viewless air. It heralded its millions to their home In the dim land of dreams. Remorseless Time ! Fierce spirit of the glass and scythe ! — what power Can stay hnii in his silent course, or melt His iron heart to pily ? On, still on He presses, and forever. The proud bird. The condor of the Andes, that can soar Through heaven's unfathomable depths, or brave The fury of the northern hurricane. And bathe his plumage in the thunder's home. Furls his broad wings at nightfall, and sinks down To rest upon his mountain crag^but Time Knows not the weight of sleep or weariness, And night's deep darkness has no chain to bind His rushing pinions. l; 116 READINGS AND RECITALS. Revolutions sweep O'er earth, like troubled visions o'er the breast Of dreaming sorrow; cities rise and sink Like bubbles on the water; fiery isles Spring blazing from the ocean, and go back To their mysterious caverns ; mountains rear To heaven their bald and blackened cliffs, and bow Their tall heads to the plain; new empires rise, Gathering the strength of hoary centuries, And rush down like the Alpine avalanche. Startling the nations — and the very stars. Yon bright and burning blazonry of God, Glitter a while in their eternal depths, And, like the Pleiad, loveliest of their train. Shoot from their glorious spheres, and pass away To darkle in the trackless void : yet Time — Time, the tomb-builder, holds his fierce career, Dark, stern, all pitiless, and pauses not Amid the mighty wrecks that strew his path. To sit and muse, like other conquerors. Upon the fearful ruin he has wrought. George D. Prentice. THB ISLE OP LONG AGO. [Employ a clear, pure, expressive voice and a distinct enunciation.] Oh, a wonderful stream is the river of Time, As it runs through the realm of tears. With a faultless rhythm and a musical rhyme. And a boundless sweep and a surge sublime. As it blends with the Ocean of Years. low the winters are drifting, like flakes of snow. And the summers, like buds between; And the year in the sheaf — so they come and they go On the river's breast, with its ebb and flow. As it glides in the shadow and sheen. There's a magical isle up the river of Time, Where the softest of airs are playing; There's a cloudless sky and a tropical clime. And a song as sweet as a vesper chime. And the Junes with the roses are staying. READINGS AND RECITALS. 117 And the name of that Isle is the Long Ago, And we bury our treasures there ; There are brows of beauty and bosoms of snow — There are heaps of dust — but we loved them so !- There are trinkets and tresses of hair; There are fragments of song that nobody sings. And a part of an infant's prayer, There's a lute unswept, and a harp without strings; There are broken vows and pieces of ring's, And the garments that she used to wear. There are hands that are waved, when the faiiy shore By the mirage is lifted in air; And we sometimes hear, through the turbulent roar Sweet voices we heard in the days gone before. When the wind down the river is fair. Oh, remembered for aye be the blessed Isle, AH the day of our life till night — When the evening comes with its beautiful smile. And our eyes are closing to slumber awhile, May that " Greenwood" of Soul be in sight ! B. F. Taylor. THE HIGH TIDE; OR, THE BRn)ES OP ENDERBY. [An incident of Lincolnshire, 1571. The piece should be given in a natural, descriptive tone, with a shade of sadness throughout. Pic- ture vividly the excitement of the scene, and use variety in the calling tones.] The old mayor climbed the belfry tower. The ringers rang by two, by three ; " Pull, if ye never pulled before ; Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he. " Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells ! Ply all your changes, all your swells. Play uppe ' The B'ides "f Enderby !' " '18 READINGS AND RECITALS. Men say it was a stolen tyde — The Lord that sent it, He knows all ; But in myne ears doth still abide The message that the bells let fall : And there was naught of strange, beside The flights of mews and peewits pied By millions crouched on the old sea wall. I sat and spun within the doore, My thread brake off, I raised myne eyes; The level sun, like ruddy ore, Lay sinking in the barren skies ; And dark against day's golden death She moved where Lindis wanderelh. My Sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth. "Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling. Ere the early dews were falling, Farre away I heard her song. "Cusha! Cusha!" all along; Where the reedy Lindis floweth Floweth, floweth. From the meads where melick groweth. Faintly came her milking song. " Cusha ! Cusha I Cusha !" calling, " For the dews will soon be falling; Leave your meadow grasses mellow, Mellow, mellow ; Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow ; Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot; Quit the stalks of parsley hollow, Hollow, hollow ; Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, From the clovers lift your head ; Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot, Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, Jetty, to the milking shed." If it be long, aye, long ago. When I beginne to think howe long, Againe I hear the Lindis flow. Swift as an arrow, sharpe and strong; And all the aire it seemeth mee Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee), That ring the tune of Enderby. CEADlNGS AaVD RECITALS. 119 Alle fresh the level pasture lay. And not a shadow mote be seene, Save where full fyve good miles away The steeple towered from out the greene; And lo ! the great bell farre and wide Was heard in all the country side That Saturday at eventide. Then some looked uppe into the sky, And all along where Lindis flows To wheie the goodly vessels lie, And where the lordly steeple shows, They sayde, " And why should this thing bf What danger lowers by land or sea ? They ring the tune of Enderby !" " For evil news from Mablethorpe, Of pyrate galleys warping down ; For shippes ashore beyond the scorpe, They have not spared to wake the towne; But while the west bin red to sec. And storms lie none, and pyrates flee. Why ring ' The Brides of Enderby ?' " I looked without, and lo ! my Sonne Came riding downe with might and main: He raised a shout as he drew on. Till all the welkin rang again, « Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth.) f' The old sea wall (he cried) is downe. The rising tide comes on apace. And boats adrift in yonder towne Go sailing uppe the market-place." He shook as one that looks on death : ** God save you, mother!" straight he saith; " Where is my wife, Elizabeth ?" " Good Sonne, where Lindis winds away With her two bairns I mai'ked lier long; And ere yon bells beganne to play, Afar I heard her milking song." He looked across the grassy sea, To right, to left, " Ho Enderb)' They rang " The Brides of Enderby I" 120 XEADINGS AND RECITALS. With that he cried and beat his breast For lo ! along the river's bed A mighty eagre reared his crest, And up the Lindis raging sped. It swept with thunderous noises loud; Shaped like a curling snow-white cloud. Or like a demon in a shroud. And rearing Lindis backward pressed, Shook all her trembling bankes amaine; Then madly at the eagre's breast Flung uppe her weltering walls again. Then bankes came down with ruin and rout- Then beaten foam flew round about — Then all the mighty floods were out. So farre, so fast the eagre drave, The heart had hardly time to beat. Before a shallow seething wave Sobbed in the grasses at cure feet : The feet had hardly time to flee Before it brake against the knee, And all the world was in the sea. Upon the roofe we sat that night, The noise of bells went sweeping by: I marked the lofty beacon light Stream from the church tower, red and high- A lurid mark and dread to see; And awesome bells they were to mee. That in the dark rang " Enderby." They rang the sailor lads to guide From roofe to roofe who fearless rowed; And I — my sonne was at my side, And yet the ruddy beacon glowed ; And yet he moaned beneath his breath, " O come in life, or come in death 1 O lost I my love, Elizabeth." And didst thou visit him no more 7 Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare ; The waters laid thee at his doore. Ere yet the early dawn was clear. Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace. The lifted sun shone on thy face, Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place. Mjr^D/jyc?S AND RECHALS. 12i That flow strewed wreclts about the grass, That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea ; A fatal ebbe and flow, alas ! To manye more than myne and me : But each will mourn his own (she saith). And sweeter woman ne'er drew breatli Ihan my Sonne's wife, Elizabelh. I shall nev:;r hear her more By the reedy Lindis shore, " Cusha, Cusha, Cushal" calling, Ere the early dews be falling; i shall never hear her song, " Cusha, Cusha !" all along, Where tlie sunny Lindis fluweth, Goeth, flowetli ; From the meads where melick groweth, When the water, winding down, Onward floweLh to the town. I shall never see her more Where the reeds and rushes quiver. Shiver, quiver; Stand beside the sobbing river, Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling To the sandy lonesome shore; I shall never hear her calling, " Leave your meadow grasses mellow, Mellow, mellow; Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow ; Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfootj Quit your pipes of parsley hollow; Hollow, hollow ; Come uppe Lightfoot, rise and follow; Lightfoot, Whitefoot, From the clovers lift your head ; Come uppe Jetty, follow, follow, Jetty, to the milking shed." Jean Ingelow. THE EXISTENCE OF A GOD. ["The footbath said in his heart, there is no God."] Go out beneath the arched heavens at night, and say, if you can, "There is no God T^ Pronounce that dreadful blasphemy, and each star above you will reproach the unbroken darkness of your intellect; every voice that 122 READINGS AND RECITALS. floats upon the night winds will bewail your utter hope- lessness and folly. Is there no God ? Who, then, unrolled the blue scroll, and threw upon its high frontispiece the legible gleamings of immortality ? Who fashioned this green earth, with its perpetual rolling waters, and its wide expanse of islands and of main? Who settled the foundations of the moun- tains? Who paved the heavens w'th clouds, and attuned, amid the clamor of storms, the voice of thunders, and unchained the lightnings that flash in their gloom? Who gave to the eagle a safe eyrie where the tempests dwell, and beat the strongest, and to the dove a tranquil abode amid the forests that echo to the minstrelsy of her moan ? Who made thee, O man ! with thy perfected elegance of intellect and form? Who made the light pleasant to thee, and the darkness a covering, and a herald to the first gorgeous flashes of the morning? There is a God. All nature declares it in a language too plain to be misapprehended. The great truth is too legibly written over the face of the whole creation to be easily mistaken. Thou canst behold it in the tender blade just starting from the earth in the early spring, or in the sturdy oak that has withstood the blasts of fourscore win- ters. The purling rivulet, meandering through downy meads and verdant glens, and Niagara's tremendous tor- rent, leaping over its awful chasm, and rolling in majesty its broad sheet of waters onward to the ocean, unite in proclaiming — "There is a God." 'Tis heard in the whispering breeze and in the howling storm J in the deep-toned thunder, and in the earthquake's shock; 'tis declared to us when the tempest lowers — when the hurricane sweeps over the land — when the winds moan around our dwellings, and die in sullen murmurs on the plain — when the heavens, overcast with blackness, ever and anon are illuminated by the lightning's glare. Nor is the truth less solemnly impressed on our minds in the universal hush and calm repose of nature, when all is still as the soft breathings of an infant's slumber. The vast ocean, when its broad expanse is whitened with foam, and when its heaving waves roll mountain on mountain high, or when the dark blue of heaven's vault is reflected with beauty on its smooth and tranquil bosom, confirms READINGS AND RECITALS. 123 the declaration. The twinkling star, shedding its flicker- ing rays so far above the reach of human ken, and the glorious sun in the heavens — all — all declare, there is a universal First Cause. And Man, the proud lord of creation, so fearfully and wonderfully made — each joint in its corresponding socket — each muscle, tendon, and artery, performing their allotted functions with all the precision of the most perfect me- chanism — and, surpassing all, possessed of a soul capable of enjoying the most exquisite pleasure, or of enduring the most excruciating pain, which is endowed with im- mortal capacities, and is destined to live onward through the endless ages of eternity — these all unite in one general proclamation of the eternal truth — there is a Being, infinite in wisdom, who reigns over all, undivided and supreme — the Fountain of all life. Source of all light — from whom all blessings flow, and in whom all happiness centres. NO GOD. l_otucly variety and individual word expression.] Is there no God ? The white rose made reply, My ermine robe was woven in the sky. The blue-bird warbled from his shady bower. My plumage fell from hands that made the flower. Is there no God? The silvery ocean spray At tlie vile question startles in dismay; And, tossing mad against earth's impious clod, 1-mpatient thunders — yes, there is a God I Is there no God ? The greedy worm that raves In sportive glee amid the gloom of graves. Proves a Divinity supremely good, For daily morsels sent of flesh and blood. Is there no God? The dying Christian's hand. Pale with disease, points to a better land; And, ere his body mingles with the sod. He, sweetly smiling, softly murmurs — God. 124 READINGS AND RECITALS. No God ! Who broke the shackles from the slave? Who gave this bleeding nation power to save Its Flag and Union in the hour of gloom, And lay rebellion's spirit in the tomb ? We publish God ! — The towering mountains cry. Jehovah's name is blazoned on the sky, The dancing streamlet and the golden grain. The lightning gleam, the thunder, and the rain, The dew-drop diamond on the lily's breast, The tender leaf by every breeze caressed, The shell, whose pearly bosom ocean lave5. And sea- weed bowing to a troop of waves; The glow of Venus and the glare of Mars, The tranquil beauty of the lesser stars ; The eagle, soaring in majestic flight, The morning bursting from the clouds of night. The child's fond prattle and the mother's prayer, Angelic voices floating on the air. Mind, heart, and soul, the ever-restless breath. And all the myriad-mysteries of death. Beware ye doubting, disbelieving throng. Whose sole ambition is to favor wrong; There is a God ; remember while ye can, " His Spirit will not always strive with man." N. K. Richardson THE MODERN CAIN, [Opportunity is here afforded for great variety in expression, from pathetic to vehement, many passages requiring great intensity of feel- ing and utterance.] " Am I my brother's keeper .'" Long ago. When first the human heart-strings felt the touch Of Death's cold fingers — when upon the earth Shroudless and coffinless Death's first-born lay, Slain by the hand of violence, the wail READINGS AND RECITALS. 125 Of human grief arose — " My son, my son ! Awake thee from this strange and awful sleep ; A mother mourns thee, and her tears of'grief Are falling on thy pale, unconscious brow : Awake and bless her with thy wonted smile." In vain, in vain ! that sleeper never woke. His murderer fled, but on his brow was fixed A stain which baffled wear and washing. As he fled, A voice pursued him to the wilderness : " Where is thy brother, Cain ?" " Am I my brother's keeper ?" O, black impiety that seeks to shun The dire responsibility of sin — That cries with the ever warning voice: " Be still — away, the crime is not my own^ My brother lived — is dead, when, where. Or how, it matters not, but he is dead. Why judge the living for the dead one's fall ? " Am I my brother's keeper ?" Cain, Cain, Thou art thy brother's keeper, and his blood Cries up to heaven against thee : every stone Will find a tongue to curse thee, and the winds Will ever wail this question in thy ear: " Where is thy brother ?" Every sight and sound Will mind thee of the lost. I saw a mnn Deal Death unto his brother. Drop by drop The poison was distilled for cursed gold ; And in the wine cup's ruddy glow sat Death, Invisible to that poor trembling slave. He seized the cup, he drank the poison down, Rushed forth into the streets — home had he none — Staggered and fell and miserably died. They buried him — ah I little recks it where His bloated form was given to the worms. No stone marked that neglected, lonely spot ; No mourner sorrowing at evening came To pray by that unhallowed mound ; no hand Planted sweet flowers above his place of rest. Years passed, and weeds and tangled briers grew Above that sunken grave, and men forgot Who slept there. 126 READINGS AND RECITALS. Once had he friends, A happy h^me was his, and love was his. His Mary loved him, and around him played His smiling children. O, a dream of joy Were those unclouded years, and, more than all, He had an interest in the world above. The big 'Old Bible' lay upon the stand, And he was wont to read its sacred page And then to pray : " Our Father, bless the poor. And save the tempted from the tempter's art; Save us from sin, and let us ever be United in thy love, and may we meet, When life's last scenes are o'er, around the throne." Thus prayed he — thus lived he — years passed, And o'er the sunshine of that happy home A cloud came from the pit ; the fatal bolt Fell from that cloud. The towering tree Was shivered by the lightning's vengeful stroke. And laid its coronal of glory low. A happy home was ruined; want and woe Played with his children, and the joy of youth Left their sweet faces no more to return. His Mary's face grew pale and paler still. Her eyes were dimmed with weeping, and her soul Went out through those blue portals. Mary died, And yet he wept not. At the demon's call He drowned his sorrow in the maddening bowl. And when they buried her from sight, he sank In drunken stupor by her new made grave ! His friend was gone — he never had another. And the world shrank from him, all save one. And he still plied the bowl with deadly drugs And bade him drink, forget his God, and die ! He died. Cain ! Cain ! where is thy brother now! Lives he still — if dead, still where is he ? Where? In heaven? Go read the sacred page '. " No drunkard ever shall inherit there." Who sent him to the pit ? Who dragged hitn down ? Who bound him hand and foot? Who smiled and smiled While yet the hellish work went on ? Who grasped His gold — his health — his life — his hope — his all? Who saw his Mary fade and die ? Who saw His beggared children wandering in the streets? Speak — Coward — if thou hast a tongue, Tell why with hellish art you slew A man. READINGS AND RECITALS. 127 " Where is my brother ?" " Am I my brother's keeper?" Ah, man ! A deeper mark is on your brow Than that of Cain. Accursed was the name Of him who slew a righteous man, whose soul Was ripe for heaven ; thrice accursed he Whose art malignant sinks a soul to hell. E. Evans Edwatis. PASSING AWAY. [Let the voice be as clear and silvery as possible, especially in the refrain.] Was it the chime of a tiny bell That came so sweet to my dreaming ear. Like the silvery tones of a fairy's shell, That he winds on the beach so mellow and clear, When the winds and the waves lie together asleep, And the moon and the fairy are watching the deep, She dispensing her silvery light, And he his notes as silvery quite. While the boatman listens and ships his oar, To catch the music that comes from the shore ? — Hark ! the notes on my ear that play. Are set to words : as they float, they say, " Passing away ! passing away !" But, no ; it was not a fairy's shell. Blown on the beach so mellow and clear : i'Jor was it the tongue of a silver bell Striking the hour, that fell on my ear, As I lay in my dream : yet was it a chime That told of the flow of the stream of Time; For a beautiful clock from the ceiling hung. And a plump little girl, for a pendulum, swung, (As you've sometimes seen, in a little ring That hangs in his cage, a canary bird swing,) And she held to her bosom a budding bouquet. And, as she enjoyed it, she seemed to say, " Passing away ! passing away !" 128 READINGS AND RECITALS. Oh, how bright were the wheels, that told Of the lapse of time as they moved round slow ! And the hands, as they swept o'er the dial of gold. Seemed to point to the girl below. And lo ! she had changed; in a few short hours. Her bouquet had become a garland of flowers, That she held in her outstretched hands, and flung This way and that, as she, dancing, swung In the fullness of grace and womanly pride. That told me she soon was to be a bride ; Yet then, when expecting her happiest day. In the same sweet voice I heard her say, " Passing away ! passing away !" While I gazed on that fair one's cheek, a shade Of thought, or care, stole softly over, Like that by a cloud in a summer's day made. Looking down on a field of blossoming clover. The rose yet lay on her cheek, but its flush Had something lost of its brilliant blush ; And the light in her eye, and the light on the wVeels That marched so calmly round above her. Was a little dimmed, as when evening steals Upon noon's hot face; yet one couldn't but love her; For she looked like a mother whose firet babe lay Rocked on her breast, as she swung all day ; And she seemed in the same silver tone to say, " Passing away ! passing away 1" While yet I looked, what a change there came I Her eye was quenched, and her cheek was wan ; Stooping and staffed was her withered frame. Yet just as busily swung she on : The garland beneath her had fallen to dust ; The wheels above her were eaten with rust; The hands, that over the dial swept. Grew crook'd and tarnished, but on they kept; And still there came that silver tone From the shriveled lips of the toothless crone, (Let me never forget, to my dying day, The tone or the burden of that lay) — " Passing away 1 passing awa's 1" PlERPONT. READINGS AND RECITALS. J29 MAGDALBNA; OR, THE SPANISH DUEL. [The descriptive parts should be natural and vivacious — the conclu- sion, reflective. If the song be sung, the words should be clearly articulated. The Spanish portions should be given in a lively and confident manner. Impersonate the dying man by using a feeble, broken voice.] Near the city of Sevilla, 'Years and years ago- Dwelt a lady in a villa Years and years ago— And her hair was black as night. And her eyes were starry bright ; Olives on her brow were blooming, Roses red her lips perfuming, And her step was light and airy As the tripping of a fairy; When she spoke, you thought each minute, 'Twas the trilling of a linnet ; When she sang, you heard a gush Of full-voiced sweetness like a thrush ; And she struck from the guitar Ringing music, sweeter far Than the morning breezes make Through the lime trees when they shak«-«» Than the ocean murmuring o'er Pebbl«s on the foamy shore. Orphaned both of sire and mother Dwelt she iu that lonely villa ; Absent now her guardian brother On a mission from Sevilla. SkiUs it little now the telling How I wooed that maiden fair. Tracked her to her lonely dwelling And obtained an entrance there. Ah I that lady of the villa I And I loved her so, Near the city of Sevilla, Years and years ago. Ay de mi ! — Like echoes falling Sweet and sad and low. Voices came at night, recalling Years and years ago. 130 READINGS AND RECITALS. 'Twas an autumn eve ; the splendor Of the day was gone, And the twilight, soft and tender. Stole so gently on That the eye could scarce discover How the shadows, spreading over. Like a veil of silver gray. Toned the golden clouds, sun-painted. Till they paled, and paled, and fainted From the face of heaven away. And a dim light rising slowly O'er the welkin spread, Till the blue sky, calm and holy, Gleamed above our head; And the thin moon, newly nascent. Shone in glory meek and sweet. As Murillo paints her crescent Underneath Madonna's feet. And we sat outside the villa Where the waters flow Down to the city of Sevilla^ Years and years ago. There we sat — the mighty river Wound its serpent course along- Silent, dreamy Guadalquiver, Famed in many a song. Silver gleaming 'mid the plain Yellow with the golden grain. Gliding down through deep, rich meadowi, Where the sated cattle rove. Stealing underneath the shadows Of the verdant olive grove ; With its plenitude of waters, Ever flowing calm and slow, Loved by Andalusia's daughters. Sung by poets long ago. Seated half within a bower, Where the languid evening breez* Shook out odors in a shower From oranges and citron trees, Sang she from a romancero. How a Moorish chieftain bold Fought a Spanish caballero By Sevilla's walls of old, — HEADINGS AND RECITALS. \Z\ How they battled for a lady. Fairest of the maids of Spain^ How the Christian's lance, so steady, Pierced the Moslem through the brain. Then she ceased — her black eyes moving Flashed, as asked she with a smile — " Say, are maids as fair and loving — Men as faithful, in your isle ?" " British maids," I said, " are ever Counted fairest of the fair; Like the swans on yonder river Moving with a stately air,^ " Wooed not quickly, won not lightly- But, when won, forever true ; Trial draws the bond more tightly. Time can ne'er the knot undo." " And the men ?" — " Ah ! dearest lady. Are — quien sabe ? who can say ? To make love they're ever ready. When they can and where they may; " Fixed as waves, as breezes steady In a changeful April day — ■ Como brisas, como rios. No se sabe, sabe dios." " Are they faithful ?" — " Ah ! quien sabe? Who can answer that they are ? While we may we should be happy."— Then I took up her guitar. And .( sang in sportive strain This song to an old air of Spain. "Quien Sabe?" I. " The breeze of the evening that cools the hot air, That kisses the orange and shakes out thy hair. Is its freshness less welcome, less sweet its perfume. That you know not the region from which it is come) Whence the wind blows, where the wind goes. Hither and thither and whither — who knows ? Who knows ? Hither and thither — but whither — who knows? 132 1 32 1 32 READINGS AND RECITALS. II. ' The river forever glides singing along, The rose on the bank bends adown to its song; And the flower, as it listens, unconsciously dips. Till the rising wave glistens and kisses its lips. But why the wave rises and kisses the rose, And why the rose stoops for those kisses — who knows , Who knows ? And away flows the river — but whither — who knows ? " Let me be the breeze, love, that wanders along The river that ever rejoices in song; Be thou to my fancy the orange in bloom. The rose by the river that gives its perfume. Would the fruit be so golden, so fragrant the rose. If no breeze and no wave were to kiss them ? Who knows ? Who knows? If no breeze and no wave were to kiss them ? Who knows ?" As I sang, the lady listened, Silent save one gentle sigh : When I ceased, a tear-drop glistened On the dark fringe of her eye. Then my heart reproved the feeling Of that false and heartless strain. Which I sang in words concealing What my heart would hide in vain. Up I sprang. What words were uttered Bootless now to think or tell — Tongues speak wild when hearts are fluttered By the mighty master spell. Love, avowed with sudden boldness. Heard with flushings that reveal. Spite of woman's studied coldness. Thoughts the heart cannot conceal. Words half-vague and passion-broken, Meaningless, yet meaning all That the lips have left unspoken. That we never may recall. READINGS AND RECITALS. 133 " Magdalena, clearest, hear me," Sighed I, as I seized her hand — " H61a ! Senor," very near me, Cries a voice of stern command. And a stalwnrt cibdicro Comes upon me with a stride, On his head a slouched sombrero, A toledo by his side. From his breast he flung his capa With a stately Spanish air — (On the whole, he looked the chap a Man to slight would scarcely dare.) " Will your worship have the goodnest To release that lady's hand ?" — "Senor," I replied, "this rudeness I am not prepared to stand. "Magdalena, say" — the maiden, With a cry of wild surprise, As with secret sorrow laden, Fainting sank before my eyes. Then the Spanish caballero Bowed with haughty courtesy. Solemn as a tragic hero. And announced himself to me ; " Senor, I am Don Camillo Guzman Miguel Pedrillo De Xymenes y Ribera Y Santallos y Herrera Y de Rivas y Mendoza Y Quintana y de Rosa Y Zorilla y" — " No more, sir; 'Tis as good as twenty score, sir," Said I to him, with a frown; •• Mucha bulla para nada, No palabras, draw your 'spada; If you're up for a duello. You will find I'm just your fellow— Senor, I am Peter Brown 1" 134 READINGS AND RECITALS. By the river's bank that night. Foot to foot in strife, Fought we in the dubious light A fight of death or lite. Don Camillo slashed my shoulder. With the pain I grew the bolder, Close, and closer still I pressed; Fortune favored me at last, I broke his guard, my weapon passed Through the caballero's breast. Down to the earth went Don Camillo Guzman Miguel Pedrillo De Xymenes y Ribera Y Santallos y Herrera Y de Rivas y Mendoza Y Quintana y de Rosa Y Zorilla y — One groan And he lay motionless as stone. The man of many names went down, Pierced by the sword of Peter Brown I Kneeling down, I rajsed his head; The caballero faintly said, " Signor Ingles, fly from Spain With all speed, for you have slain A Spanish noble, Don Camillo Guzman Miguel Pedrillo De Xymenes y Ribera Y Santallos y Herrera Y de Rivas y Mendoza Y Quintana y de Rosa Y Zorilla y" — He swooned With the bleeding from his wound. If he be living still or dead, I never knew, I ne'er shall know. That night from Spain in haste I fled. Years and years ago. Oft when autumn eve is closing. Pensive puffing a cigar As I sit alone, reposing. Musing half, and half a-dozing, Comes a vision from afar Of that lady of the villa In her satin^ fringed mantilla. And that haughty caballero With his capa and sombrero, READINGS AND RECITALS. 135 And I vainly keep revolving That long, jointed, endless name; 'Tis a riddle past my solving Who he was, or whence he came. Was he that brother home returned ? Was he some former lover spurned ? Or some family ^ KiLCil ALS. 1S7 consii region, see him sail along in the joy and pride of hi:- |)i) I II h' j.cts to New England, and then . He doc- „ ,. V w jt tiie weather is to be in New England. H • < . I .1 y iiuire tell than he can tell how many Presi- den:-, lie U.iited Srates there are going to be. Well, he \\\ 1 It liver ii, and by a d by he gets out something like this: " Probible northeast to southwest winds, varying to the southward and westward and eastward and points between ; high and low barometer, sweeping around from place to place; probable areas of rain, snow, hail, and drought, succeeded or preceded by earthquakes, with thunder and lightning." Then he jots down this post- script from his wandering mind to cover accidents : " But it is possible that the programme may be wholly changed in the meantime." Yes, one of the brightest gems in the New England weather is the dazzling uncertainty of it. There is only one thing certain about it, you are certain there is going to be plenty of weather. A perfect grand review; but you never can tell which end of the procession is going to move first. You fix up tor the drought ; you leave your umbrella in the house and sally out with your sprinkling pot, and ten to one you get drowned. You make up yout mind that the earthquake is due; you stand from undei and take hold of something to steady yourself, and the first thing you know you get struck by lightning. These are great disappointments; but they can't be helped. The lightning there is peculiar; it is so convincing when it strikes a thing it doesn't leave enough of that behind for you to tell whether — well, you'd think it was something valuable, and a Congressman had been there. And the thunder. When the thunder commences merely to tune up, and scrape and saw and key up the instruments for the performance, strangers say, "Why, what awful thunder you have here!" But when xVq baton is raised and the real concert begins, you'll find that stranger down in the cellar, with his head in the ash barrel. Now as to the size of the weather in New England — lengthways I mean. It is utterly disproportionate to the size of that little country. Half the time when it is packed as full as it can stick, you will see that New England weather sticking out bevond the edges and projecting 138 READINGS AND RECITALS. around hundreds and hundreds of miles over the neighbor- ing States. She can't hold a tenth part of her weather. You can see cracks all about, where she has strained herself trying to do it. I could speak volumes about the inhuman perversity of the New England weather, but I will give but a single specimen. I like to hear rain on a tin roof, so I covered part of my roof with tin, with an eye to that luxury. Well, sir, do you think it ever rains on the tin? No, sir; skips it every time. Mind, I have been trying merely to do honor to the New England weather; no language could do it justice. But after all there are at least one or two things about that weather (or, if you please, effects produced by it), which we residents would not like to part with. If we had not our bewitching autumn foliage, we should still have to credit the weather with one feature which compensates for all its vagaries — the ice storm — when a leafless tree is clothed with ice from the bottom to the top — ice that is as bright and clear as crystal ; every bough and twig is strung with ice-beads, frozen dew-drops, and the whole tree sparkles, cold and white like the Shah of Persia's diamond plume. Then the wind waves the branches and the sun comes out and turns all those myriads of beads and drops to prisms, that glow and hum and flash with all manner of colored fires, which change and change again with incon- ceivable rapidity, from blue to red, from red to green, and green to gold; the tree becomes a sparkling fountain, a very explosion of dazzling jewels, and it stands there the acme, the climax, the supremest possibility in art or nature of bewildering, intoxicating, intolerable magnificence 1 One cannot make the words too strong. Month after month I lay up hate and grudge against the New England weat?ier j but when the ice storm comes at last, I say, "There, I forgive you now; the books are square between ws J yon don't owe me a cent; go and sin no more; your lictle faults and foibles count for nothing; you are the Moiit enchanting weather in the world." S. L. Clemens. READINGS AND RECITALS, 139 MONA'S WATERS. [Great variety in expression — light to grand description. Avoid monotony,] Oh I Mona's vv'aters are blue and bright When the sun shines out like a gay young lover; But Mona's waves are dark as night When the face of heaven is clouded over. t"he wild wind drives the crested foam Far up the steep and rocky mountain, And booming echoes drown the voice, The silvery voice, of Mona's fountain. Wild, wild against that mountain's side The wrathful waves were up and beating. When stern Glenvarloch's chieftain came; With anxious brow and hurried greeting He bade the widowed mother send (While loud the tempest's voice was raging) Her fair young son across the flood, Where winds and waves their strife were waging. And still that fearful mother prayed, " Oh! yet delay, delay till morning. For weak the hand that guides our bark. Though brave his heart, all danger scorning." Little did stern Glenvarloch heed : " The safety of my fortress tower Depends on tidings he must bring From Fairlee bank, within the hour. " See'st thou, across the sullen wave, A blood-red banner wildly streaming? That flag a message brings to me Of which my foes are little dreaming. The boy mw:! put his boat across (Gold shall repay his hour of danger), And bring me bacl<, with care and speed, Three letters from the light-browed stranger." The orphan boy leaped lightly in ; Bold was his eye and brow of beauty. And bright his smile as thus he spoke : " 1 do but pay a vassal's duty ; Fear not for me, O mother dear ! See how the boat the tide is spuming; The storm will cease, the sky will clear. And thou wilt watch me safe returning." 140 140 READINGS AND RECxTALS. His bark shot on — now up, now down. Over the waves — the snowy-crested; Now like a dart it sped along, Now like a white -winged sea-bird rested; And ever when the wind sank low. Smote on the ear that woman's wailing, As long she watched with streaming eyes, That fragile bark's uncertain sailing. He reached the shore — the letters claimed ; Triumphant, heard the stranger's wonder That one so young should brave alone The heaving lake, the rolling thunder. And once again his snowy sail Was seen by her — that mourning mother; And once she heard his shouting voice — That voice the waves were soon to smother. Wild burst the wind, wide flapped the sail, A crashing peal of thunder followed; The gust swept o'er the water's face. And caverns in the deep lake hollowed. The gust swept past, the waves grew calm, The thunder died along the mountain; But where was he who used to play. On sunny days, by Mona's fountain ? His cold corpse floated to the shore, Where knelt his lone and shrieking mother ; And bitterly she wept for him. The widow's son, who had no brother ! She raised his arm— the hand was closed; With pain his stiffened fingers parted, And on the sand three letters dropped ! — His last dim thought — the faithful-hearted. Glenvarloch gazed, and on his brow Remorse with pain and grief seemed blending; A purse of gold he flung beside ■That mother o'er her dead child bending. Oh! wildly laughed that woman then, ** Glenvarloch ! would ye dare to measure The holy life that God has given Against a heap of golden treasure ? READINGS AND RECITALS. 141 " Ye spurned my prayer, for we were poor; But know, proud man, that God hath power To smite the king on Scotland's throne. The chieftain in his fortress tower. Frown on ! frown on ! I fear ye not ; We've done the last of chieftain's bidding. And cold he lies, for whose young sake I used to bear your wrathful chiding. " Will gold bring back his cheerful voice. That used to win my heart from sorrow ? Will silver warm the frozen blood, Or make my heart less lone to-morrow? Go back and seek your mountain home, And when ye kiss your fair-haired daughter. Remember him who died to-night Beneath the waves of Mona's water." Old years rolled on, and new ones came — Foes dare not brave Glenvarloch's tower But naught could bar the sickness out That stole within fair Annie's bower. The o'erblown floweret in the sun Sinks languid down, and withers daily. And so she sank — her voice grew faint. Her laugh no longer sounded gayly. Her step fell on the old oak floor As noiseless as the snow-shower's drifting; And from her sweet and serious eyes They seldom saw the dark lid lifting. " Bring aid! Bring aid!" the father cries; " Bring aid !" each vassal's voice is cryingj " The fair-haired beauty of the isles, Her pulse is faint — her life is flying!" He called in vain ; her dim eyes turned And met his own with parting sorrow, For well she knew, that fading girl, That he must weep and wail the morrow. Her faint breath ceased; the father bent And gazed upon his fair-haired daughter. What thought he on ? The widow's son. And the stormy night by Mona's water. 142 READINGS AND RECITALS. THE FAMINE. [The greeting of the guests, the prayer, the echo, the visions, and the terror of the dying Minnehaha, the wailing of Nokomis, and the parting words of Hiawatha should receive special attention.^ O the long and dreary Winter! O the cold and cruel Winter ! Ever thicker, thicker, thicker Froze the ice on lake and river; Ever deeper, deeper, deeper Fell the snow o'er all the landscape, Fell the covering snow, and drifted Through the forest, round the village. Hardly from his buried wigwam Could the hunter force a passage ; With his mittens and his snow-shoes Vainly walk'd he through the forest. Sought for bird or be.ist and found none. Saw no track of deer or rabbit. In the snow beheld no footprints, In the ghastly, gleaming forest Fell, and could not rise from weakness, Perish'd there from cold and hunger. Into Hiawatha's wigwam Came two gloomy guests in silence. Waited not to be invited. Did not parley at the doorway. Sat there without word of welcome In the seat of Laughing Water, Looked with haggard eyes and hollow At the face of Laughing Water ; And the foremost said : " Behold met I am Famine, Bukadawin !" And the other said : " Behold ot^/ I am Fever, Ahkosewin !" And the lovely JMinnehaha Shudder'd as they look'd upon her, Shudder'd at the words they utter' d, Lay down on her bed in silence. Hid her face, but made no answer; Lay there trembling, freezing, burning At the looks they cast upon her. At the fearful words they uller'd. READINGS AND RECITALS^ U3 Forth into the empty forest Rushed the madden'd Hiawatha; In his heart was deadly sorrow. In his face a stony firmness, On his brow the sweat of anguish Started, but it froze and fell not. Wrapp'd in furs and arm'd for hunting. With his mighty bow of ash-tree. With his quiver full of arrows, With his mittens, Minjekahwun, Into the vast and vacant forest Onjiis snow-shoes strode he forward; "Gitchie Manito, the Mighty!" Cried he with his face uplifted In that bitter hour of anguish, " Give your children food, O Father! Give us food, or we must perishi Give me food for Minnehaha, For my dying Minnehaha !" Through the far-resounding forest, Through the forest vast and vacant Rang that cry of desolation. But there came no other answer Than the echo of his crying, Than the echo of the woodlands, "Minnehaha! Minnehaha!" All day long roved Hiawatha In that melancholy forest. Through the shadow of whose thicketf, In the pleasant days of Summer, Of that ne'er forgotten Summer, He had brought his young wife homeward From the land of the Dacotahs ; When the birds sang in the thickets. And the streamlets laugh'd and glisten'd. And the air was full of fragrance. And the lovely Laughing Water Said with voice that did not tremble, " I will follow you, my husband!" In the wigwam with Nokomis, With those gloomy guests, that watch'd her. With the Famine and the Fever, She wai lying, the Beloved, She the dying Minnehaha. " Hark 1" she said, " I hear a rushing. Hear a roaring and a rushing. Hear the Falls of Minnehaha 144 4 READINGS AND RECITALS. Calling to me from a distance I" " No, my child !" said old Nokomis, " 'Tis the night-wind in the pine-trees !" " Look !" said she ; " I see my father Standing lonely at his doorway, Beckoning to me from his wigwam In the land of the Dacotahs !" " No, my child!" said old Nokomis, " 'Tis the smoke that waves and beckons 1" " Ah !" she said, " the eyes of Paugul Glare upon me in the darkness, I can feel his icy fingers Clasping mine amid the darkness I Hiawatha! Hiawatha!" And the desolate Hiawatha, Far away amid the forest, Miles away among the mountains. Heard that sudden cry of anguish, Heard the voice of Minnehaha Calling to him in the darkness, " Hiawatha ! Hiawatha 1" Over snow-fields waste and pathless. Under snow-encumber'd branches. Homeward hurried Hiawatha, Empty-handed, heavy-hearted. Heard Nokomiif moaning, wailing : " Wahonowin ! Wahonowin ! Would that I had perish'd for you, Would that I were dead as you are 1 Wahonowin! Wahonowin!" And he rush'd into the wigwam. Saw the old Nokomis slowly Rocking to and fro and moaning. Saw his lovely Minnehaha Lying dead and cold before him. And his bursting heart within him Utter'd such a cry of anguish. That the forest moan'd and shudder'd That the very stars in heaven Shook and trembled with his anguish. Then he sat down still and speechless. On the bed of Minnehaha, At the feet of Laughing Water, At those willing feet, that never READINGS AND RECITALS. 145 More would lightly run to meet him, Never more would lightly follow. With both hands his face he cover'd. Seven long days and nights he sat there. As if in a swoon he sat there. Speechless, motionless, unconscious Of the dayliglit or the darkness. Then they buried Minnehaha; In the snow a grave they made her, In the forest deep and darksome, « Undernealh the moaning hemlocks ; Clothed her in her richest garments ; Wrapp'd her in her robes of ermine. Clothed her with snow, like ermine ; Thus they buried Minnehaha. And at night a fire was lighted, On her grave four times was kindled, For her soul upon its journey To the Islands of the Hlessed. From his doorway Hiawatha Saw it burning in the forest, Lighting up the gloomy hemlocks ; From his sleepless bed uprising, Fiom the bed of Minnehaha, Stood and watch'd it at the doorway, That it might not be extinguish'd, Might nut leave her in the darkness. " Farewell !" said he, " Minnehaha ! Farewell, O my Laughing Water! All my heart is buried with you, All my thoughts go onward with you! Come not back again to labor. Come not back again to suffer, Where the Famine and the Fever Wear the heart and waste the body. Soon my task will be completed, Soon your footsteps I shall follow To the Islands of the Blessed, To the Kingdom of Ponemah, To the Land of the Hereafter !" H. W. Longfellow lo 146 READINGS AND RECITALS. THE BURNING OP CHICAGO. [This grand poem was written by the author of Betsy and I are Out, appearing in Our Fireside Friend. It will be found a valuable exercise for practice.] 'Twas night in the beautiful city, The famous and wonderful city, The proud and magnificent city. The Queen of the North and the West. The riches of nations were gatliered in wondrous and plentiful store ; The swift-speeding bearers of Commerce were waiting on river and shore ; The great staring walls towered skyward, with visage undaunted and bold. And said, " We are ready, O Winter ! come on with your hunger and cold! Sweep down with your storms from the Northward ! come out from your ice-guarded lair! Our larders have food for a nation! our wardrobes have clothing to spare ! For off from the corn-bladed prairies, and out from the valleys and hills, The farmer has swept us his harvests, the miller has emptied his mills ; And here, in the lap of our city, ihe treasures of Autumn shall rest. In golden-crowned, glorious Chicago, the Queen of the North and the West!" 'Twas night in the church-guarded city, The templed and altar-decked city. The sacred and spire-adorned city, The Queen of the North and the West. And out from the beautiful temples that Wealth in its fullness had made, And out from the haunts that were humble, where Poverty peacefully prayed, Where praises and thanks had been offered to Him where they rightly belonged, In peacefulness quietly homeward the worshippinp; multitude thronged. The Pharisee, laden with riches and jewelry, costly and rare, Who proudly deigned thanks to Jehovah he was not as other men are ; The penitent, crushed in his weakness, and laden with pain and with sin. The outcast, who yearningly waited to hear the glad bidding, " Come in;" READINGS AND RECITALS. 147 And thus went they quietly homeward, with bins and omissions con- fessed, In spire-adorned, templed Chicago, the Queen of the North and the West. 'Twas night in the sin-burdened city, The turbulent, vice-laden city. The sin-compassed, rogue-haunted city, Though Queen of the North and the West. And low in tl^fir caves of pollution great beasts of humanity growled. And over his money-slrewn table the gambler bent fiercely, and scowled ; And men with no seeming of manhood, with countenance flaming and fell, Dr.mk deep from the fire-laden fountains that spring from the rivers of hell; And men with no seeming of manhood, who dreaded the coming of day, Prowled, cat-like, for blood-purchased plunder from men who were better than they. And men with no seeming of manhood, whose dearest-craved glory was shame, * Whose joys were the sorrows of others, whose harvests were acres of flame, SIniik, whispering and low, in their corners, with bowie and pistol tight-pressed. In rogue-haunted, sin-cursed Chicago, though Queen of the North and the West. 'Twas night in the elegant city. The rich and voluptuous city. The beauty-thronged, mansion-decked city, Gay Queen of the North and the West. And childhood wns placidly resting in slumber untroubled and deep; And softly the mother was fondling her innocent baby to sleep; And m.iidens were dreaming of pleasures and triumphs the future should show. And scanning the brightness and glory of joys they were never to know; And firesides were cheerful and happy, and Comfort smiled sweetly around ; Kut grim Desolation and Ruin looked into the window and frowned. And pitying angels looked downward, and gazed on their loved ones below, And longed to reach forth a deliverance, and yearned to beat backward the foe ; 148 READINGS AND KECITALS. But Pleasure and Comfort were reigning, nor danger was spoken or guessed, In beautiful, golden Chicago, gay Queen of the North and the West. Then up in the streets of the city. The careless and negligent city, The soon-to-be-sncriticed city, \ Doomed Queen of the Nojth and the West, Crept, softly and slyly, so tiny it hardly was worthy the name, Crept, slowly and soft through the rubbish, a radiant serpent of flame. The South-wind and West-wind came shriekmg, " Rouse up in your strength and your ire ! For many a year they have chained you, and cru^hud you, O demon of fire ! For many a year they have bound you, and made you their servant and slave ! Now, rouse you, and dig for this city a fiery and desolate grave ! Freight heavy with grief and with wailing her world-scattered pri.Ie and renown ! Charge straight on her mansions of splendor, and batter her baltlements down ! And we, the strong South-wind and West-wind, with thrice-doubled fury possessed. Will sweep with you over this city, the Queen of the North and the Westl" Then straight at the great quiet city, The strong and o'er-confident city. The well-nigh invincible city. Doomed Queen of the North and the West, The Fire-devil rallied his legions, and speeded them forth on the wind. With tinder and treasures before him, with ruins and tempest-; behind. The tenement crushed 'neath his footstep, the mansion oped wide at his knock ; And walls that had frowned him defiance, they trembled and fell with a shock ; And down on the hot, smoking house-tops, came raining a deluge of fire; And s -rpents of flame writhed and clambered and twisted on .siee[)le and spire; And beautiful, glorious Chicago, the city of riches and fame, Was su'ept by a storm of destruction, was flooded bv billows of flame. The Fire-king loomed high m his glory, with crimson and flame- streaming crest. And grinned his fierce scorn on Chicago, doomed Queen of the North and the West. READINGS AND RECITALS. 149 Then swiftly the quick-breathing city. The fearful and panic-struck city, The startled and lire-deluged city. Rushed back from the South and the West. i\nd loudly the fire-bells were clanging, and ringing their funeral notes ; And loudly wild accents of terror came pealing from tliousinds of throats ; And loud was the wagon's deep rumbling, and loud the wheel's clatter and cresk ; And loud was the calling for succor from those who were ^i_;htless and weak ; And loud were the hoofs of the horses, and loud was the tramping of feet, And loud was the gale's ceaseless howling through fire-lighted alley and street ; But louder, yet louder, the crashing of i-oofs and of walls as they fell, And louder, yet louder, the roaring that told of the comiiig of hell. The F'ire-king threw back hia black mantle from off his great blood- dappled breast, And sneered in the face of Chicago, the Queen of the North and the West. 'Twas morn in the desolate city, The ragged and ruin-heaped city. The homeless and hot smoking city. The grief of the North and the West. Uut down from the West came the bidding, " O Queen, lift in courage thy head ! Thy frieiuls and thy neighbors av/aken, and hasten, with raiment and bread !"• And up from the South came the bidding, " Cheer up, fairest Queen of the Lakes ! For comfort and aid shall be coming from out our savannahs and brakes !" And down from the North came the bidding, " O City, be hopeful of cheer ! We've somewhat to spare for thy sufferers, for all of our sufferini^ here !" And up from the East came the bidding, " O City, be dauntless and bold I Look hither fm- food and for raiment — look hither for credit and gold !" And all throui^h the world went the bidding, " Bring hither your choicest and best, For weary an. I hungry Chicago — sad Queen of the North and the West !" 150 READINGS AND RECITALS. O crushed, but invincible city ! O broken, but fast-rising city ! O glorious, but unconquered ciiy, Still Queen of the North and the West ! The long, golden years of the future, with treasures increasing and rare, Shall glisten upon thy rich garments — shall twine in the folds of thy hair! From out the black heaps of thy ruins new columns of beauty shall rise, And glittering domes shall flmg grandly our nation's proud flag to the skies ! From off the wide praries of splendor the treasures of Aulunin shall pour. The breezes shall sweep from the Northward, and hurry the ships to thy shore ! Fur Heaven will look downward in mercy on tho^e who've passed under the rod, And happ'ly again they will prosper, and bask in the blessings of God. Once more thou dost stand mid the cities, by prosperous breezes caressed, O, grand and unconquered Chicago, still Queen of the North and the West! Will M. Carleton. IfOBODY'S CHILD. [This should be rendered in the tender, pathetic voice of a child, and, when so given, it is exquisitely beautiful. The sad, touching voice should kindle with expectation at the close.] Alone in the dreary, pitiless street, "With my torn old dress, and bare, cold feet, All day have I wandered to and fro, Hungry and shivering, and nowhere to go ; The night's coming on in darkness and dread, And the chill sleet beating upon my bare head. Oh ! why does the wind blow upon me so wild ? Is it because I am nobody's child ? READINGS AND RECITALS. 151 Just over the way there's a flood of light, And warmth, and beauty, and all things bright; Beautiful children, in robes so fair. Are caroling songs in their rapture there. I wonder if they, in their blissful glee, Would pity a poor little beggar like me. Wandering alone in the merciless street. Naked and shivering, and nothing to eat ? Oh ! what shall I do when the night comes down In its terrible blackness all over the town ? Shall I lay me down 'neath the angry sky. On the cold, hard pavement, alone to die, When the beautiful children their prayers have said, And their mammas have tucked them up snugly in bed ? For no dear mother on me ever smiled. Why is it, I wonder, I'm nobody's child ? No father, no mother, no sister, not one In all the world loves me, e'en the little dogs run When I wander too near them ; 'tis wondrous to see How everything shrinks from a beggar like me ! Perhaps 'tis a dream ; but sometimes, when I lie Gazing far up in the dark blue sky. Watching for hours some large bright star, I fancy the beautiful gates are ajar, And a host of white-robed, nameless things, Come fluttering o'er me on gilded wings; A hand that is strangely soft and fair Caresses gently my tangled hair. And a voice like the carol of some wild bird— The sweetest voice that was ever heard — Calls me many a dear, pet name. Till my heart and spirit are all aflame. They tell me of such unbounded love. And bid me come up to their home above ; And then with such pitiful, sad surprise, They look at me with their sweet tender eyes, And it seems to me, out of the dreary night I am going up to that world of light, And away from the hunger and storm so wild ; 1 am sure I shall then be somebody's child. Phila H. Case. 152 READINGS AND RECITALS. MAUD MULLER. [Simple conversational style; avoid rhythm.] Maud MuUer, on a summer's day, Raked the meadow, sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. Singing, she wrought, and her meny glee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. But, when she glanced to the far-off town, White from its hill-slope looking down. The sweet song died, and a vague unrest And a nameless longing filled her breast — A wish, that she hardly dared to own. For something better than she had known. The Judge rode slowly down the lane, Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane. He drew his bridle in the shade Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid, And ask a draught from the spring that flowed Through the meadow across the road. She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up, And filled for him her small tin cup. And blushed as she gave it, looking down On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown. " Thanks ! " said the Judge, " a sweeter draught From a fairer hand was never quaffed." He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees. Of the singing birds and the humming bees ; Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether The cloud in ihe west would bring foul weather. READINGS AND RECITALS. 153 And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown, And her graceful ankles bare and brown ; And listened, while a pleased surprise Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes. At last, like one who for delay Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away, Maud Muller looked and sighed : " Ah, me ! That I the Judge's bride might be ! " He would dress me up in silk so fine. And praise and toast me at his wine. " My father should wear a broadcloth coat ; My brother should sail a painted boat. " I'd dress my mother so grand and gay ; And the baby should have a new toy each day. " And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the ]")0or. And all should bless me who left our door," The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill. And saw Maud Muller standing still. " A form more fair, a face more sweet. Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. " And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair. *' Would she were mine, and I to-day, like her, a harvester of hay : " No doubtful balance of riijhts and wrongs. Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, " But low of cattle and song of birds, And health, and quiet, and loving words." But he thought of his sisters proud and cold. And his mother, vain of her rank and gold. So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on. And Maud was left in the field alone. 154 L54 READI-NGS AND RECITALS. But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, When he hummed in court an old love-tune; And the young girl mused beside the well. Till the rain on the unraked clover fell. He vfedded a wife of richest dower, Who lived for fashion as he for power. Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow. He watched a picture come and go; And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes Looked out in their innocent surprise. Oft when the wine in his glass was red, He longed for the wayside-well instead ; And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms. To dream of meadows and clover-blooms. And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain; " Ah, that I were free again ! " Free as when I rode that day Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay." She wedded a man unlearned and poor. And many children played round her door. But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain, Left their traces on heart and brain. And oft when the summer sun shone hot On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot, And she heard the little spring brook fall Over the roadside, through the wall- In the shade of the apple-trees again She saw a rider draw his rein, And, gazing down with timid grace. She felt his pleased eyes read her face. Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls Stretched away into stately halls ; READINGS AND RECITALS. 155 The weary wheel to a spinnet turned. The tallow candle an astral burned. And for him who sat by the chimney lug, Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug, A manly form at her side she saw. And joy was duty and love was law. Then she took up her burden of life again. Saying only, " It might have been !" Alas for maiden, alas for Judge, For rich repiner and household drudge ! God pity them both ! and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall. For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these : " It might have been I" Ah, well ! for us all some sweet hope lies Deeply buried from human eyes ; And, in the hereafter, angels may Roll the stone from its grave away ! John G. Whittier. " CUEPEW MUST NOT RING TO-NIGHT." [This touching incident in English history should be read without formality of manner, in which case it makes a choice reading. Study variety.] Enijland's sun was slowly setting o'er the hills so far away, Filling all the land with beauty at the close of one sad day; And the last rays kiss'd the foreheads of a man and maiden fair. He with step so slow and weakened, she with sunny, floating hair; He with sad bowed head, and thoughtful, she with lips so cold and white, Struggling to keep back the murmur, " Curfew must not ring to-night." 156 READINGS AND RECITALS. " Sexton," Bessie's white lips faltered, pointing to tlie prison old, With its walls so dark and gloonny — walls so dark, so damp, and cold — " I've a lover in that prison, doomed this very night to die, At the ringing of the Curfew, and no earthly help is nigh. Cromwell will not come till sunset," and her face grew strangely white. As she spoke in husky whispers, " Curfew must not ring to-night." ** Bessie," calmly spoke the sexton — every word pierced her young heart Like a thousand gleaming arrows — like a deadly poisoned dnrt ; " Long, long years I've rung the Curfew from that gloomy shadowtd tower ; Every evening, just at sunset, it has tolled the twilight hour; I have done my duly ever, tried to do it just and right. Now I'm old, I will not miss it; girl, the Curfew lings to-night !" Wild her eyes and pale her features, stern and white her thoughtful brow. And within her heart's deep centre Bessie made a solemn vow 5 She had listened wliile the judges read, without a tear or sigh, " At the ringing of the Curfew — Basil Underwood must die." And her breath came fast and faster, and her eyes grew large and bright — One low murmur, scarcely spoken — " Curfew must not ring to-night." She with light step bounded forward, sprang within the old clunch door. Left the old man coming slowly, paths he'd trod so oft before ; Not one moment paused the maiden, but " ith cheek and brow ag'ow. Staggered up the gloomy tower, where the bell swung to and (ro ; Then she climbed the slimy ladder, dnrk, vi'hout one ray of lisjlit, Upward still, her pale lips saying: " Curfew j//«// not ring to-night." She has reached the topmost ladder, o'er her hangs the great dark hell. And the awful gloom beneath her, like the pathway down to hell ; Ste, the ponderous tongue is swinging, 'lis the hour of Curfew now — And the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath and paled her brow. Shall she let it ring? No, never ! her eyes flash with sudden light. As she springs and grasps it firmly — " Curfew shall not ring to-niglit !" Out she swung, far out, the city seemed a tiny speck behnv ; There, 'twixt heaven and earth suspended, as the bell swung to and fro; READINGS AND RECITALS. 157 And the half-deaf Sexton ringing (years he had not heard the bell), And he thought the twilight Curfew rang young liasils huieral knell; Still the miiden clinging firmly, cheek and brow so pale and white, Stilled her frightened heart's wild beating — " Curjtw shall not ring to-night." It was o'er — the bell ceased swaying, and the maiden stepped once more Firmly on the damp old ladder, where for hundred years before Human foot had not been planted; and what she this night had done Shciulcl be told in long years after — as the rays of seitinj; sun Lij^'lit the sky with mellow beauty, nged sires with heads of white Tell their chili^-en why the Curlew did not ring that one sad night. O'er the distant nills came Cromwell ; Bessie saw him, and her brow, Lately while with sickening terror, glows with sudden beauty now ; At his feet she told her story, showed her hands all bruised and torn; And her sweet young face so haggard, with a look so sad and worn. Touched his heart with sudden pity — lit his eyes with mi^ty light; "Go, your lover lives!" cried Cromwell; " Curfew shall nut rmg to- night." THE BUEIAL OF MOSES. " And he buried him in a valley in the land of J'oab, over against Beth-peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre to this day." — Diut, xxxiv : 6. [Characteristic — Effusive Orotund.] By Nebo's lonely mountain, On this side Jordan's wave, In a vale in the land of Moab, There lies a lonely grave ; But no man dug that sepulchre. And no man saw it e'er, For the angels of God upturned the sod. And laid the dead man there. That was the grandest funeral That ever passed on earth ; But no man heard the tramping. Or saw the train go forth ; Noiselessly as the daylight Comes when the night is done. And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek Grows into the great sun,^ 158 READINGS AND RECITALS. Noiselessly as the spring-time Her crown of verdure weaves. And all the trees on all the hills Open their thousand leaves,— So, without sound of music Or voice of them that wept, Silently down from the mountain crown The great procession swept. Perchance the bald old eagle. On gray Beth-peor's height. Out of his rocky eyrie, Looked on the wondrous sight ; Perchance the lion, stalking, Still shuns the hallowed spot; For beast aud bird have seen and heard That which man knoweth not. Lo, when the warrior dieth, His comrades in the war, With arms reversed and muffled drum, Follow the funeral car. They show the banners taken, They tell his battles won. And after him lead his masterless steed. While peals the minute gun. Amid the noblest of the land Men lay the sage to rest, And give the bard an honored place. With costly marble dressed, In the great minster transept, Where lights like glories fall, And the choir sings, and the organ rings Along the emblazoned wall. This was the bravest warrior That ever buckled sword ; This the most gifted poet That ever breathed a word ; And never earth's philosopher Traced, with the golden pen. On the deathless page, truths half so sage As he wrote down for men. And had he not high honor? The hillside for his pall ; To lie in state while angels wait With stars for tapers tall ; READINGS AND RECITALS. 159 And the dark rock pines, like tossing plumes. Over his bier to wave; And God's own hand in that lonely land. To lay him in the grave, — In that deep grave, without a name. Whence his uncoffined clay Shall break again — O wondrous thought!— Before the judgment day. And stand, with glory wrapped around. On the hills he never trod. And speak of the strife that won our life With the incarnate Son of God. O lonely tomb in Moab's land, O dark Beth-peor's hill. Speak to these curious hearts of ours. And teach them to be still. God hath his mysteries ofgrace,— Ways that we cannot tell ; He hides them deep, like the secret sleep Of him he loved so well. APOSTROPHE TO COLD WATER. [Paul Denton, a Methodist preacher in Texas, advertised a baibecue, with better liquor than is usually furnished. When the people were assembled, a desperado in the crowd walked up to him, and cried out: " Mr. Denton, your reverence has lied. You promised not only a good barbecue, but better liquor. Where's the liquor ? " " There ! " answered the preacher, in tones of thunder, pointing his motionless finger at a spring gushing up in two strong columns, with a sound like a shout of joy, from the bosom of the earth.] "There!" he repeated, with a look terrible as light- ning, while his enemy actually trembled at his feet ; "there is the liquor which God, the Eternal, brews for all his chil- dren. Not in the simmering still, over smoky fires, choked with poisonous gases, surrounded with the stench of sick- ening odors and corruptions, doth your Father in heaven prepare the precious essence of life — pure, cold water ; but in the green glade and grassy dell, where the red deer wanders, and the child loves to play, there God brews it ; and down, low down in the deepest valleys, where the 160 READINGS AND RECITALS. fountain murmurs and the rills sing; and high upon the mountain tops, where the naked granite glitters like gold in the sun, where the storm-cloud broods and the thunder- storms crash; and far out on the wide, wild sea, where the hurricane howls music, and the big waves roll the chorus, sweeping the march of God — there He brews it, that beverage of life — health-giving water. "And everywhere it is a thmg of life and beauty — gleaming in the dew-drop; singing in the summer rain; shining in the ice-gem, till the trees all seem turned to living jewels; spreading a golden veil over the setting sun, or a white gauze around the midnight moon ; sporting in the glacier; folding its bright snow-curtain softly about the wintery world ; and weaving the many-colored bow, that seraph's zone of the siren — whose warp is the rain- drop of the earth, whose woof is the sunbeam of heaven, all checked over with celestial flowers, by the mystic hand of refraction. "Still always it is beautiful — that blessed life-water! No poisonous bubbles are on its brink; its foam brings not madness and murder ; no blood stains its liquid glass; pale widows and starving orphans weep not burning tears in its depths ; no drunkard's shrinking ghost, from the grave, curses it in the worlds of eternal despair ! Speak out, my friends : would you exchange it for the demorC s drink, ALCOHOL? " A shout, like the roar of a tempest, answered, " No 1 " John B. Gough. JIMMY BUTLER AND THE OWL. [An impersonation. "Who! Whoo ! Whooo ! " should be given with high pitch, descending slides, and tremulous stress on " Whooo ! "] 'Twas in the summer of '46 that I landed at Hamilton, fresh as a new pratie just dug froin the " oulJ sod," and wid a light heart and a heavy bundle I sot otf for the township of Buford, tiding a taste of a song, as merry a young fellow as iver took the road. Well, I trudged on READINGS AND RECITALS. 161 and on, past many a plisint place, pleasin' myself wid the thought that some day I might have a place of my own, wid a world of chickens and ducks and pigs and childer about the door; and along in the afternoon of the sicond day I got to Buford village. A cousin of me mother's, one Dennis O'Dowd, lived about sivin miles from there, and I wanted to make his place that night, so I inquired the way at the tavern, and was lucky to find a man who was goin' part of the way an' would show me the way to find Dennis. Sive he was very kind indade, an' when I got out of his wagon he pointed me through the wood and tould me to go straight south a mile an' a half, and the first house would be Dennis's. "An' you've no time to lose now," said he, " for the sun is low, and mind you don't get lost in the woods." " Is it lost now," said I, " that I'd be gittin, an' me uncle as great a navigator as iver steered a sliip across the tlirackless say ! Not a bit of it, though I'm obleeged to ye for your kind advice, and thank yiz for the ride." An' wid that he drove off an' left me alone. I shouldered me bundle bravely, an' whistlin' a bit of time for com- pany like, I pushed into the bush. Well, I went a long way over bogs, and turnin' round among the bush an' trees till I began to think I must be well nigli to Dennis's. But, bad cess to it ! all of a sudden I came out of the woods at the very identical spot where I started in, which I knew by an ould crotched tree that seemed to be standin' on its head and kickin' up its heels to make divarsion of me. By this time it was growin' dark, and as there was no time to lose, I started in a second time, determined to keep straight south this time, and no mistake. I got on bravely for a while, but och hone! och hone! it got so dark I couldn't see the trees, and I bum])ed me nose and barked me shins, while the miskaties bit me hands and face to a blister; an' after tumblin' and stumblin' around till I was fairly bamfoozled, I sat down on a log all of a trimble, to think that I was lost intirely, an' that maybe a lion or some other wild craythur would devour me before morning. Just then I heard somebody a long way off say, " Whip poor Will I Whip poor Will ! " "Bedad," sez I, "I'm glad it is't Jamie that's got to take it, though it's more 11 162 READINGS AND RECITALS. in sorrow than in anger they are doin' it, or why should they say, ' poor Will ? ' an' sure they can't be Injin, haythin, or naygur, for it's plain English they're afther spakin'. Maybe they might lielp nie out o' this," so I shouted at the top of my voice, " A lost man ! " Thin I listened. Prisently an answer came. "Who? Whoo? Whooo?" "Jamie Butler, the waiver! " sez I, as loud as I could roar, an' snatchin' up me bundle an' stick, I started in the direction of the voice. Whin I thought I had got near the place I stopped and shouted again, " A lost man ! " "Who! Whoo! Whooo!" said a voice right over my head. " Sure," thinks I, " it's a mighty qiiare place for a man to be at this time of night ; maybe it's some settler scrapin' sugar off a sugar-bush for the children's breakfast in the mornin'. But where's Will and the rest of them?" All this wint through me head like a flash, an' thin I answered his inquiry. "Jamie Butler, the waiver," sez I ; " and if it wouldn't inconvanience yer honor, would yez be kind enough to step down and show me the way to the house of Dennis O'Dowd?" " Who ! Whoo ! Whooo ! " sez he. " Dennis O'Dowd," sez I, civil enough, "and a dacent man he is, and first cousin to me own mother." " Who ! Whoo ! Whooo ! " sez he again. "Me motlier ! " sez I, "and as fine a woman as iver peeled a biled pratie wid her thumb nail, and her maiden name was Molly McFiggin." "Who! Whoo! Whooo! " "Paddy McFiggin ! bad luck to yer deaf ould head, Paddy McFiggin, I say — do you hear that? An' he was the tallest man in all the county Tipperary, excipt Jim Doyle, the blacksmith." "Who! Whoo! Whooo!" "Jim Doyle, the blacksmith," sez I, "ye good for nothin' blaggurd naygur, and if yiz don't come down and show me the way this min't, I'll climb up there and break every bone in your skin, ye spalpeen, so sure as me name is Jimmy Butler ! " READINGS AND RECITALS. 163 "Who! Whoo ! Whooo ! " sez he, as impident as iver. I said never a word, but lavin' down me bundle, and takin' me stick in me teeth, I began to climb the tree. Whin I got among the branches I looked quietly around till I saw a pair of big eyes just forninst me. " Whist," sez I, " and I'll let him have a taste of an Irish stick," and wid that I let drive and lost me balance an' came tumblin' to the ground, nearly hreakin' me neck wid the fall. When I came to me sinsis I had a very sore head w'id a lump on it like a goose egg, and half of me Sunday coat-tail torn off intirely. I spoke to the chap in the tree, but could git niver an answer, at all, at all. Sure, thinks I, he must have gone home to rowl up his head, for by the powers I didn't throw me stick for nothin'. Well, by this time the moon was up and I could see a little, and I detarmined to make one more effort to reach Dennis's. I wint on cautiously for awliile, an' thin I heard a bell. "Sure," sez I, "I'm comin' to a settlement now, for I hear the church bell." I kept on toward tlie sound till I came to an ould cow wid a bell on. She started to run, but I was too quick for her, and got her by the tail and hung on, thinkin' that maybe she would take me out of the woods. On we wint, like an ould country steeple-chase, till, sure enough, we came out to a clearin' and a house in sight wid a light in it. So, lavin' the ould cow puffin' and blowin' in a shed, I went to the liouse, and as luck would have it, whose should it be but Dennis's. He gave me a raal Irish welcome, and introduced me to his two daughters — as purty a pair of gurls as iver }e clapped an eye on. But whin I tould him me adventure in the woods, and about the fellow who made fun of me, they all laughed and roared, and Dennis said it was an owl. " An ould what ? " sez I. " Why, an owl, a burd," sez he. " Do you tell me now ?" sez I. " Sure it's a quare country and a quare burd." And thin they all laughed again, till at last I laughed myself, that hearty like, and dropped right into a chair 164 READINGS AND RECITALS. between the two purty girls, and the ould chap winked at me and roared again. Dennis is me father-in-law now, and he often yet delights to tell our children about their daddy's adventure wid the owl. ALOWZO THE BEAVE, AND THE FAIR IMOGINE. [Aspirate and Pectoral qualities of voice are here eniployed.3 A warrior so bold, and a virgin so bright. Conversed as they sat on the green ; They gazed on each other with tender delight : Alonzo the Brave was the name of the knight. The maiden's, the Fair Imogine. "And oh !" said the youth, " since to-morrow I go To fight in a far distant land, Your tears for my absence soon ceasing to flow, Some other will court you, and you will bestow On a wealthier suitor your hand !" " Oh ! hush these suspicions," Fair Imogine said, " Offensive to love and to me ; For, if you be living, or if you be dead, I swear by the Virgin that none in your stead Shall husband of Imogine be. " If e'er I, by love or by wealth led aside. Forget my Alonzo the Brave, God grant that, to punish my falsehood and pride. Your ghost at the marriage may sit by my side. May tax me with perjury, claim me as bride. And bear me away to the grave !" To Palestine hastened the hero so bold. His love she lamented him sore ; But scarce had a twelvemonth elapsed, when, behold ! A baron, all covered with jewels and gold. Arrived at Fair Imogine's door. READINGS AND RECITALS. 165 His treasures, his presents, his spacious domain, Soon made her untrue to her vowb; He dazzled her eyes, he bewildered her brain; He caught her affections, so light and so vain. And carried her home as his spouse. And now had the marr'age Ijcen blest by the priest; The reveh'y now was begun : The tables they groaned with the weight of the feast. Nor yet had the laughter and merriment ceased. When the bell at the castle tolled — one. ■ Then first with amazement Fair Imogine found A stranger was placed by her side : His air was terrific; he uttered no sound — • He spake not, he moved not, he looked not around, But earnestly gazed on the bride. His visor was closed, and gigantic his height. His armor was sable to view ; All pleasure and laughter were hushed at his sight; The dogs, as they eyed him, drew back in affright; The lights in the chamber burned blue ! His presence all bo'som'; appeared to dismay; The guests sat in silence and fear ; At length spake the biide — while she trembled — "I pray, Sir knight, that your helmet aside you would lay. And deign to partake of our cheer." The lady is silent ; the stranger complies— His visor he slowly unclosed ; Oh, God! what a sight met Fair Imogine's eyei What words can express her dismay and surprise When a skeleton's head was exposed ? All present then uttered a terrified shout, All turned with disgust from the scene ; The worms they crept in, and the worms they crept ou^ And sported his eyes and his temples about, While the spectre addressed Imogine : " Behold me, thou false one, behold me !" he cried; " Remember Alonzo the Brave ! God grants that, to punish thy falsehood and pride. My ghost at thy marriage should sit by thy side ; Should tax thee with perjury, claim thee as bride. And bear thee away to the grave !" 166 66 READINGS AND RECITALS. Thus saying, his arms round the lady he wound. While loudly she shrieked in dismay; Then sunk with his prey thro' the wide-yawning ground. Nor ever again was Fair Iniogine found, Or the spectre that bore her away. Not long lived the baron ; and none, since that time. To inhabit the castle presume ; For chronicles tell that, by order sublime. There Imogine suffers the pain of her crime. And mourns her deplorable doom. At midnight, four times in each year, does her sprite, When mortals in slumber are bound, Arrayed in her bridal npparel of white, Appear in the hall with the skeleton knight. And shriek as he whirls her around ! While they drink out of skulls newly torn from the grave. Dancing round them the spectre;, are seen; Their liquor is blood, and this horrible stave They how 1 : "To the health of Alonzo the Brave, And his consort, the Fair Imogine !" OVER THE RIVER. [Employ the effusive form, and avoid ihythm.] Over the river they beckon to me — • Loved ones who've crossed to the fiuiher side; The gleam of their snowy rohfS 1 see, But their voices are drowned in the rushing tide. There's one with ringlets of sunny gold. And eyes, the refieciion of heaven's own blue; He crossed in the twilii^ht, gray and cold, And the pnle mist hid him from mortal view. We saw not the angels who met him there ; The gates of the city we could not see ; Over the river, over the river, My brother stands waiting to welcome me ! Over the river, the bontman pale Carried another — the household pet ; Her brown curls waved in the genile gale — Darling Minnie ! I see her yet. READINGS AND RECITALS. 167 She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands, And fearlessly entered the phantom bark ; We watched it glide Irom the silver sands, And all our sunshine grew strangely dark. We know she is safe on the further side, Where all the ransomed and angels be ; Over the river, the mystic river, My childhood's idol is waiting for me. For none return from those quiet shores. Who cross with the boatman cold and pale; We hear the dip of the golden oars, And catch a gleam of the snowy sail — And lol they have passed from our yearning heart; They cross the stream, and are gone for aye; We may not sunder the veil apart That hides from our vision the gates of day; We only know that their bark no more May sail with us over life's stormy sea; Vet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore, They watch, and beckon, and wait for me. And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold Is flushing river, and hill, and shore, I shall one day stand by the water cold. And list for the sound of the boatman's oar ; I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail ; I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand ; I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale. To the better shore of the spirit land ; I shall know the loved who have gone before. And joyfully sweet will the meeting be, When over the river, the peaceful river, The Angel of Death shall carry me. Miss Priest. THE PAINTER OP SEVILLE. [Sebastian Gomez was one of the most celebrated painters of Spain. The following incident occurred about the year 1630. The picture which he was found painting, as described below, together with others of high merit, may yet be seen in the churches of Seville.] 'Twas morning in Seville ; and brightly beamed The early sunlight in one chamber there ; Showing, where'er its glowing radiance gleamed. Rich, varied beauty. 'Twas the study where 168 168 READINGS AND RECITALS. Murillo, the famed painter, came to share With young aspirants his long-cherished art, To prove how vain must be the teacher's care Who strives his unbought knowledge to impart. The language of the soul, the feeling of the heart. The pupils came, and glancing round, Mendez upon his canvas found. Not his own work of yesterday. But, glowing in the morning ray, A sketch so rich, so pure, so bright. It almost seemed that there were given To glow before his dazzled sight Tints and expression warm from heaven. 'Twas but a sketch — the Virgin's head- Yet was unearthly beauty shed Upon the mildly beaming face ; The lip, the eye, the flowing hair, Had separate, yet blended grace— A poet's brighest dream was there I Murillo entered, and amazed On the mysterious painting gazed ; " Whose work is this ? — speak, tell me! — ^he \Mio to his aid such power can call," Exclaimed the teacher, eagerly, " Will yet be master of us all , Would I had done it ! — Ferdinand I Isturitz, Mendez ! — say, whose hand Among ye all ?" — With half-lireathed sigh. Each pupil answered — " 'Twas not I ! " " How came it then ? " impatiently Murillo cried ; " but we shall see Ere long into this mystery. Sebastian ! " At the summons came A bright-eyed slave, Who trembled at the stern rebuke His master gave. For, ordered in that room to sleep. And faithful guard o'er all to keep, Murillo bade him now declare What rash intruder had been there. And threatened — if he did not tell The truth at once — the dungeon-cell. HEADINGS AND RECITALS. 169 "Thou answerest not," MudIIo s:\iH ; (The boy had stood in speechless fear.) " Speak on!" — At last he raised hi^ liead, And murmured, " No one has been here." '" Tis false !" Sebastian bent his knee, And clasped his hands imploringly, And said, " I swear it, none but me !" "List!" said his master. " I would know Who enters here — there have been found Before, rough sketches strewn around. By whose bold hand, 'tis yours to show ; See Oiat to-night strict watch you keep, Nor dare to close your eyes to sleep. If on to-morrow morn you fail To answer what I ask, The lash shall force you — do you hear? Hence ! to your daily task." 'Twas midnight in Seville ; and faintly shone From one small lamp a dim uncertain ray Within Murillo's study — ill were gone Who there, in pleasant tasks or converse gay. Passed cheerfully the morning hours away. 'Twas shadowy gloom, and breathless silence, save That, to sad thoughts and torturing fear a prey. One bright-eyed boy was there — Murillo's little slave. Almost a child — that boy had seen Not thrice five summers yet, But genius marked the lofty brow. O'er which his locks of jet Profusely curled; his cheek's dark hue Proclaimed the warm blood flowing through Each throbbing vein, a mingled tide. To Africa and Spain allied. "Alas ! what fate is mine I" he said. " The lash, if I refuse to tell Who sketched those figures — if I do. Perhaps e'en more — the dungeon cell !" He breathed a prayer to Heaven for aid; It came — for soon, in slumber laid. He slept until the dawning day Shed on his humble couch its ray. ■570 170 KEADIXGS AND KECITALS. " I'll sleep no more !" he cried ; " and now. Three hours of freedom I may gain Before my master comes ; for then I shall be but a slave again. Three blessed hours of freedom ! how Shall I employ them ? — ah ! e'en now The figure on that canvas traced Must be — yes, it must be effaced." He seized a brush — the morning light Gave to the head a soltened glow ; Gazing enmptured on the sight He cried, " Shall I efface it? — No! That breathing lip ! that beaming eye I Efface them ? — I would rather die !" The terror of the humble slave Gave place to the o'erpowering flow Of the high feelings Nature gave — Which only gifted spirits know. He touched the biow — the lip — it seemed His pencil had some magic power ; The eye with deeper feeling beamed — Sebastian then forgot the hour, Forgot his master, and the threat Of punishment still hanging o'er him; For, with each touch, new beauties met And mingled in the face before him. At length 'twa"! finished ; rapturously He gazed — could aught more beauteous be!- Awhile absorbed, entr.inced he stood. Then started — horror chilled his blood I His master and the pupils all Were there, e'en at his side ! The terror-stricken slave was mute- Mercy would be denied. E'en could he ask it — so he deemed, And the poor boy half lifeless seemed. Speechless, bewildered — for a space They gazed upon that perfect face. Each with an artist's joy ; At length Murillo silence broke, And with affected sternness spoke^ ** Who is your master, boy?" "You, Senor," said the trembling slave. READINGS AND RECITALS. \1\ " Nay, who, I mean, instruction gave, Before tiiat Virgin's head you drew ?" Again he answered, " Only you." " I gave you none," Murillo cried ! " But I have heard," the boy replied, " What you to others said." "And more than heard," in kinder tone, The painter said , " 'tis plainly shown That you have profited." "What (to his pupils) is his meed? Peward or punishment ?" "Reward, reward!" they warmly cried. (Sebastian's ear was bent To calch the sounds he scarce believed, But with imploring look received.) " What shall it be ?" They spoke of gold And of a splendid dress ; But still unmoved Sebastian stood, Silent and motionless. "Speak!" said Murillo, kindly; "choose Your own rewnrd — whnt shall i". be? Name what you wish, I'll not refuse ; Then speak at once and fearlessly." "Oh I if I dared !" — Sebastian knelt. And feelings he could not control (But feared to utter even then) With strong emotion shook his soul. "Courage I" his master said, and each Essayed in kind, half- whispered speech. To soothe his overpow'ring dread. He scarcely heard, till some one said, " Sebastian — ask — you have your choice^ Ask for yoMt freeiiom .'" — At the word. The suppliant strove to raise his voice: At first but stifled sobs were heard. And ihen his prayer — breathed fervently— " Oh ! master, make my father free I" " Him and thyself, my noble boy!" Warmly the painter cried ; Raising Sebastian from his feet, He pressed him to his side. " Thy talents rare, and filial love. E'en more have fairly won ; Still be thou mine by other bonds— My pupil and my son." 172 READINGS AND RECITALS. Murillo knew, e'en when the words Of generous feeling passed his lips, Sebastian's talents soon must lead To fame that would his own eclipse ; And, constant to his purpose still. He joyed to see his pupil gain. Beneath his care such matchless skill As made his name the pride of Spain. Susan Wilson. THE INQUIET. [The refrain, " No," should be given in a manner appropriate to the circumstances under which it is uttered.] Tell me, ye winged winds, that round my pathway roar, Do ye not know some spot where mortals we-p no more ? Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in he west. Where, free from toil and pain, the weary soul may rest? The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low. And sigh'd for pity as it answer'd — " No." Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play, Know'st thou some favor'd spot, some island far away. Where weary man may find the bliss for which he sighs — Where sorrow never lives, and friendship never dies ? The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, Stopp'd for awhile, and sigh'd to answer — " No." And thou, serenest moon, that, with such lovely face. Dost look upon the earth, asleep in night's embrace ; Tell me, in all thy round hast thou not seen some spot Where miserable man might find a happier lot ? Behind a cloud the moon \^'ithdrew in woe, And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded — " No." Tell me, my secret snul ; oh ! tell me, Hope and Faith, Is there no resting-place from sorrow, sin, and death ? Is there no happy spot where mortals may be bless'd. Where grief may find a balm, and we.iriness a rest? Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given, Waved their bright wings, and whisper'd — " Yes, in Hf.aven." Charles Mackay. READINGS AND RECITALS. 173 HOW JAMIE CAME HOME. [Great pathos at the close.] Come, mother, set the kettle on. And put the ham and eggs to fry ; Something to eat, And make it neat, To pleast our Jamie's mouth and eye ; For Jamie is our all, you know. The rest have perished long ago ! He's coming from the wars to-night, And his blue eyes will sparkle bright. And his old smile will play right free. His old loved home again to see. I say for 't ! 'twas a cur'us thing That Jamie was not maimed or killed ! Five were tne years. With hopes and fears, And gloomy, hopeless tidings filled ; And many a night the past five year. We've lain within our cottage here, And while the rnin-storm came and went, We've thought of Jamie, in his tent ; And offered many a silent prayer That God would keep him in His care. I say for 't ! 'twas a cur'us thing That Jamie was not maimed or killed! Five were the years. With blood and tears. With cruel, bloody battles filled ; And many a morn, the past five year. We've knelt around our fireside here, And while we thought of bleeding ones, Our blazing towns and smoking guns, We've thought of him and breathed a prayer That God would keep him in His care. Nay, Addie, girl, just come away. Touch not a dish upon the shelf 1 Mother well knows Just how it goes, Mother shall set it all herself! There's nothing to a wanderer's looks Equal to food that mother cooks ; 174 READINGS AND RECITALS. There's nothing to a wanderer's taste Like food where mother's hand is traced; Though good a sister's heart and will, A mother's love is better still. She knows the side to put his plate, She knows the place to put his chair; Many a day, With spirits gay, He's talked and laughed and eaten there; And though five years have come and gone, Our hearts for him beat truly on. And keep a place for him to-day. As well as ere he went away; And he shall take, as good as new, His old place at the table, too ! And opposite to him, again. Your place, my Addie, girl, shall be; Mother, your place. And kind old face, I'll still have opposite to me ; And we will talk of olden days. Of all our former words and ways, And we will tell him what has passed Since he, dear boy, was with us last ; And how our eyes have fast grown dim. Whenever \*e conversed of him. And he shall tell us of his figlits, His marches, skirmishes, and all ; Many a tale Will make us pale. And pity those who had to fall ; And many a tale of sportive style Will go, perhaps, to make us smile ; And when his stories are all done. And when the evening well has gone. We'll kneel around the hearth once more. And thank the Lord the war is o'er. Hark ! — there's a sound ! he's coming now. Hark, mother! there's the sound once more! Now on our feet. With smiles to greet. We'll meet him at the opening d<')Or ! It is a heavy step and tone. Too heavy, far, for one alone , READINGS AND RECITALS. 175 Perhaps the company extends To some of his old army friends , And who they be, and whence they came, Of course, we'll welcome them all the same. What bear ye on your shoulders, men ? Is it my Jamie, stark and dead ? What did you say? Once more, I pray, I did not gather what you said. What ! drunk > you tell that LIE to me ? Wljat ! DRUNK I Oh, God, it cannot be I It cannot be my Jamie dear, Lying in drunken slumbers here ! — It is, It is, as you have said ! Men, lay him on yon waiting bed. 'Tis Jamie, yes ! a bearded man. Though bearing still some boyhood's trace; Stained with the ways Of reckless days — Flushed with the wine cup in his face. Swelled with the fruits of reckless years. Robbed of each trait that e'er endears. Except the heart-distressing one That Jamie is our only son. Oh I mother, take the kettle off. And put the ham and eggs away I What was my crime. And when the time. That I should live to see this day? For all the sighs I ever drew, And all the griefs I ever knew. And all the cares that creased my brow. Were naught to what comes o'er me now. I would to God that when the three We lost were hidden from our view, Jamie had died. And by their side Had laid, all pure and spotless, too I I would this rain might fall above The grave of him we joyed to love, Rather than hear its coming traced Upon the roof he has disgraced ! But, mother, Addie, come this way. And let us kneel, and humbly pray. Will M. Carleton. 176 READINGS AND RECITALS. BRIDGET AS A SCHOOL-TEACHER. [The following and other selections are taken, by permission of the author, from that humorous book entitled " Elbow-Room." In read- ing, impersonate.] Millburg was in want of a school-teacher. Accordingly, the board of directors advertised for a suitable person, instructing applicants to call upon Judge Twiddler, the chairman. A day or two later Mrs. Twiddler advertised in a city paper for a cook, and upon the same afternoon an Irish girl came to the house to obtain the place in the kitchen. The Judge was sitting upon the front porch at the time reading a newspaper; and when the girl enterei the gate of the yard, he mistook her for a school-mistress, and he said to her : — " Did you come about that place?" " Yes, sor," she answered. " Oh, very well, then ; take a seat and I'll run over a few things in order to ascertain what your qualifications are. Bound Africa. " If you please, sor, I don't know what you mean." " I say, bound Africa." " Bou — bou — Begorra, I don't know what ye're re- ferrin' to." "Very strange," said the Judge. "Can you tell me if 'amphibious' is an adverb or a preposition ? What is an adverb?" " Indade, and ye bother me intirely. I never had any- thing to do wid such things at my last place." "Then it must have been a curious sort of an institu- tion," said the Judge. "Probably you can tell me how to conjugate the verb ' to be,' and just mention, also, what you know about Herodotus." "Ah, yer Honor's jokin' wid me. Be done wid yerfun, now." " Did you ever hear of Herodotus? " " Never once in the whole coorse of ray life. Do you make it with eggs?" "This is the most extraordinary woman I ever encoun- tered," murmured the Judge. " How she ever associated READINGS AND RECITALS. 177 Herodotus with the idea of eggs is simply incomprehensible. Well, can you name the hemisphere in which China and Japan are situated? " " Don't bother me wid your fun, now. I can wash the china and the pans as well as anybody, and that's enough, now, isn't it ? " " Dumb ! awful dumb 1 Don't know the country from the crockery. I'll try her once more. Name the limits of the Tropic of Capricorn, and tell me where Asia Minor is located." " I have 'a brother that's one, sor; that's all I know about it." "One? One what?" " Didn't ye ask me after the miners, sor? My brother Teddy works wid 'em." "And this," said the Judge, " is the kind of person to whom we are asked to entrust the education of youth. Woman, what do you know ? What kind of a school have you been teaching ? " " None, sor. What should I teach school for?" " Totally without experience, as I supposed," said the Judge. "Mrs. Ferguson had a governess teach the children when I was cookin' for her." "Cooking! Ain't you a school-teacher? Wliat do you mean by proposing to stop cooking in order to teach school ? Why, it's preposterous." " Begorra, I came here to get the cook's place, sor, and that's all of it." " Oh, by George ! I see now. You ain't a candidate for the grammar school, after all. You want to see Mrs. Twiddler. Maria, come down here a minute. There's a thick-headed immigrant here wants to cook for you." And the Judge picked up his paper and resumed the edi- torial on " The Impending Crisis." They obtained a good teacher, however, and the course of affairs in the girls' department was smooth enough ; but just after the opening of the fall session there was some trouble in the boys' department. Mr. Barnes, the master, read in the Educational Monthly tliat boys could be taught history better than in any other way l)v letting each boy in the class represent some his- 178 READINGS AND RECITALS. torical character, and relate the acts of that character as if he had done them himself. This struck Barnes as a mighty good idea, and he resolved to put it in practice. The school had then progressed so far in its study of the history of Rome as the Punic wars, and Mr. Barnes imme- diately divided the boys into two parties, one Romans and the other Carthaginians, and certain of the boys were named after the leaders upon both sides. All the boys thought it was a fine thing, and Barnes noticed that they were so anxious to get to the history lesson that they could hardly say their other lessons properly. When the time came, Barnes ranged the Romans upon one side of the room and the Carthaginians on the other. The recitation was very spirited, each party telling about its deeds with extraordinary unction. After awhile Barnes asked a Roman to describe the battle of Cannae. Where- upon the Romans hurled their copies of " Wayland's Moral Science" at the enemy. Then the Carthaginians made a battering-ram out of a bench and jammed it among the Romans, who retnliateil witli a volley of books, slates, and chewed pnper-balls. B.irnes concluded that the battle of Cannae had been sufficiently illustrated, and he tried to stop it ; but the warriors considered it too good a thing to let drop, and accordingly the Carthaginians dashed over to the Romans with another battering-ram and thumped a couple of them savagely. Then the Romans turned in, and the fight became general. A Carthaginian would grasp a Roman by the hair and hustle him around over the desk in a manner that was simply frightful, and a Roman would give a fiendish whoop and knock a Carthaginian over the head with " Greenleaf's Arithmetic." Hannibal got the head of Scipio Africanus under his arm, and Scipio, in his efforts to break away, stumbled, and the two generals fell and had a rough-and-tumble fight under the blackboard. Caius Gracchus prodded Hamilcar with a ruler, and the latier, in his struggles to get loose, fell against the stove and knocked down about thirty feet of stove-pipe. Thereupon the Romans made a grand rally, and in five minutes they chased the entire Carthaginian army out of tlie school- room, and Barnes along with it ; and then they locked the door and began to hunt up the apples and lunch in the desks of the enemy. READINGS AND RECITALS. 179 After consuming the supplies tliey went to the windows and made disagreeable remarks to the Carthaginians, who were standing in the yard, and dared old Barnes to bring the foe once more into battle array. Tlien Barnes went for a policeman; and when he knocked at the door it was opened, and all the Romans were found busy studying their lessons. When Barnes came in with the defeated troops he went for Scipio Africanus ; and pulling him out of his seat by the ear, he thraslied that great military genius with a rattay until Scipio began to cry, wheieupoii Barnes ch-opped him and began to paddle Caius Gracchus. Then things settled down in the old way, and next morning Barnes announced that history in the future would be studied as it always had been ; and he wrote a note to the Educational Monthly to say that in his opinion the man who suggested the new system ought to be led out and shot. Tiie boys do not now take as much interest in Roman history as they did on that day. Max Adeler. THE BELFRY OP GHENT, [Imitative modulation should be employed in The Chimes, the voice being made to resemble the ringing of bells.] Hast thou ever known the feeling I have felt, when I have seen, 'Mid the tombs of aged heroes — Memories of what hath been— What it is to view the present In the light of by-gone days; From an eminence to ponder Human histories and ways ? Once I stood with soul enchanted, Lost in deep astonishment, On the lofty, dark old belfry Of the ancient town of Ghent. From the height I looked below me, Saw the quaint old city lie. Full of glorious recollections. Climbing up to memory. 180 READINGS AXD RECITALS. Toilsome was the steep ascending, By that broken flight of slairs ; But the end was like the pleasure Oft derived from weary cares : Like the steps that lift us upward To the aim we have designed ; Like the stages leading onward To the things we seek to find. From that noble height of vision, To that distant azure sky, Thrill, my heart, the swelling anlhem, Taught and tuned by memory ! Celebrate the deed^of glory; Sing the hearts that throbbed and beat ; Sing the hands that stayed the ihrobliing; Songs like these, my harp, repeat ! Tell the days of ancient heroes. On a nobler errand senl — Old Saint Bavon, once a soldier, Now the patron saint of Ghent. Show the lomb of Saint Columba, Erin's and lona's pride ; Let me gather leaves and flowers From its green and mossy side. Chime, ye merry ringing changes. Booming through the liquid air; Though yc tell that Time is passing. Ye are what ye ever were ! Yes, the same sad midnight chiming, Yes, the selfsame peals by day ; Have ye not a voice that speakelh ? Tell me, therefore, what ye say ! THE CHIMES. ' We speak of days long, long ago ; We speak of Time now given ; We speak of Time that's yet to come, And say — Prepare for Heaven ! Twice we tell the hours in passing — First by due advertisement ; Then we tell the hour's departure — We, the bells of ancient Ghent. READINGS AND RECITALS. Igl " We have told Ihe birth of piinces ; Sounded forth the marriage bell ; We have sung the Miserere; We have rung the last farewell ; Varied still, l)ut true the tidings, Sounding from our belfry floor; Yet the time is coming, coming, Wlien our bells shall chime no more. Yes, the day is hastening onvfard, When all earthly tongues shall cease ; AiKl the chimes that sung their praises Shall be stilled when all is peace. Till that day sound forth your measures. Ring your changes to the last ; And, amid the tomb of ages, Tell the virtues of the past. Still I saw the waking vision, Read the memories of old, Till the changes chimed the vesper, And the hour of evening tolled. Thus I mused, and thought, and pondered. Lost in deep astonishment, On the well-remembered belfry Of the ancient town of Ghent. Robert Maguire. THE LAUNCH OP THE SHIP. [With great expression.] " Build me straight, O worthy Master ! Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel. That shall laugh at all disaster, And with wave and whirlwind wrestle ! " The merchant's word, Delighted, the Master he.nrd ; For his heart was in his work, and the heart Giveth grace unto every art. And with a voice that was full of glee. He answered, " Ere long we will launch A vessel as goodly, and strong, and staunch, As ever weathered a wintry sea !" 182 READINGS AND RECITALS. All is finished! and, at length. Has come the bridal day Of beauty and of strength, To-day the vessel shall be launched ! With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched ; And o'er the bay, Slowly, in all his splendors dight. The great sun rises to behold the sight. The ocean old. Centuries old, Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled, Paces restless to and fro. Up and down the sands of gold. His beating heart is not at rest ; And far and wide. With ceaseless flow. His beard of snow Heaves with the heaving of his breast. He waits impatient for his bride. There she stands. With her foot upon the sands. Decked with flags and streamers gay. In honor of her marriage-day ; Her snow-white signals, fluttering, blending. Round her like a veil descending. Ready to be The bride of the gray, old sea. Then the Master, With a gesture of command. Waived his hand ; And at the word, Loud and sudden there was heard All around them and below The sound of hammers, blow on blow, Knocking away the shores and spurs. And see ! she stirs ! She starts, — she moves, — she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel. And, spurning with her feet the ground. With one exulting, joyous bound. She leaps into the ocean's arms ! And lo ! from the assembled crowd There rose a shout prolonged and loud. That to the ocean seemed to say, — READINGS AND RECITALS. 183 " Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray ; Take her to thy protecting arms, With all her youth and all her charms 1" How beautiful she is ! how fair She lies within those arms, that press Her form with many a soft caress Of tenderness and watchful care ! Sail forth into the sea, O ship ! Through wind and wave, right onward steer. The moistened eye, the trembling lip, ^re not the signs of doubt or fear. Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, O Union, strong and great ! Humanity, with all its fears. With all the hopes of fuiure years. Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! We know what Master laid thy keel. What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel. Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge, and what a heat. Were shaped the anchors of thy hope ! Fear not each sudden sound and shock ; 'Tis of the wave, and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail. And not a rent made by the gale I In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore. Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee : Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears. Are all with thee, — are all with thee ! H. W. Longfellow. MABEL; OB, THE PACE AGAINST THE PANE. [This selection contains great variety of expression. The storm should be vividly depicted. The conclusion should be marked by the plaintive effusive.] Mabel, little Mabel, With her face against the pane. Looks out across the niirht. 184 READINGS AND RECITALS. And sees the beacon light A-trembling in the rain. She hears the sea bird screech. And the breakers on the beach Making moan, making moan, And the wind about the eaves Of the cottage sobs and grieves. And the willow tree is blown To and fro, to and fro, Till it seems like some old crone Standing out there all alone with her vroe. Wringing as she stands Her gaunt and palsied hands; While Mabel, timid Mabel, With her face against the pane. Looks out across the night. And sees the beacon light A-trembling in the rain. Set the table, maiden Mabel, And make the cabin warm. Your little fisher lover Is out there in the storm ; And your father, — you are weeping; O, Mabel, timid Mabel, Go spread the supper table, And set the tea a-steeping; Your lover's heart is brave, His boat is staunch and tight, And your father knows The perilous reef That makes ihe water white. But Mabel, Mabel, darling, With her face against the pane, Looks out across the night At the beacon in the rain. The heavens are veined with fire I And the thunder how it rolls 1 In the luUings of the storm The solemn church bell tolls For lost souls ! But no sexton sounds the knell; In that belfry, old and high. Unseen fingers sway the bell As the wind goes tearing by ! How it tolls, for the souls Of the sailors on the sea. God pity them ! God pity themt READINGS AND RECITALS. 185 Wherever they may be. God pity wives and swreethearts Who wait and wait in vain, And pity little Mabel, With her face against the pane I A boom ! the lighthouse gun. How it echoes, rolls and rolls,— 'Tis to warn home-bound ships Off the shoals. See ! a rocket cleaves the sky , From the fort, a shaft of light I See, it fades, and fading leaves Golden furrows on the night ! What makes Mabel's cheek so pale What makes Mabel's lips so white? Did she see the helpless sail That tossing here and there Like a feather in the air. Went down and out of sight, Down, down and out of sight? O, watch no more, no more. With face aganist the pane — You cannot see the men that drown By the beacon in the rain ! From a shoal of richest rubies Breaks the morning clear and cold, And the angel on the village spire, Frost touched, is bright as gold. Four ancient fishermen In the pleasant autumn air Come toiling up the sands. With something in their hands. Two bodies stark and white. Ah ! so ghastly in the light, With sea weed in their hair. O, ancient fishermen. Go up to yonder cot ! You'll find a little child With face against the pane. Who looks toward the beach And looking sees it not. She will never watch again. Never watch and wake at night, For those pretty saintly eyes. Look beyond the stormy skies. And they see the beacon light. T. B. Aldrich. 186 READINGS AND RECITALS. THE BUBNING SHIP. [Heavy force, simple description, tremulous aspirate, effusive explo- sive and calling voice should all be employed. Study carefully.] The storm o'er the ocean flew furious and fast. And the waves rose in foam at the voice of the blast, And heavily labored the gale-beaten ship. Like a stout-hearted swimmer, the spray at his lip ; And dark was the sky o'er the mariner's path. Save when the wild liglitning illumined in wrath. A young mother knelt in the cabin below. And pressing her babe to her bosom of snow. She prayed to her God 'mid the hurricane wild, " O Father, have mercy, look down on my child !" > / It passed — the fierce whirlvk...J careered on its way, And the ship like an arrow divided the spray ; Her s.iils glimmered while in the beams of the moon, And the wind up aloft seemed to whistle a tune — to whistle a tune. There was joy in the ship as she furrowed the foam, For fond hearts within her were dreaming of home. The fond mother pres<;ed her young babe to her breast. And sang a sweet song as she rocked it to rest; And the husband sat cheerily down by her side And looked with delight on the face of his bride. " Oh, happy," said he, " when our roaming is o'er, We'll dwell in our cottage that stands by the shore. Already in fancy its roof I descry, And the smoke of its hearth curling up to the sky; Its garden so green, and its vine-covered wall ; The kiiiJ friends awaiting to welcome us all. And the children that sport by the old oaken tree." Ah, gently the ship glided over the sea ! Hark ! what was that ? Hark ! Hark to the shout ! " Fire !" Then a tramp, and a rout, and a tumult of voices uprose on the air — And the mother knelt down, and the half-spoken prayer That she offered to God in her agony wild Was, " Father, have mercy, look down on my child !" She flew to her husband, she clung to his side — Oh, there washer refuge whate'er might betide. "Fire I" "Fire!" It was raging above and below— And the checks o.' the sailors grew pale at the sight. And their eyes glistened wild in the glare of the light. 'Twas vain o'er the ravage the waters to drip; The pitiless flame was the loul of the ship, READINGS AXD RECITALS. 187 And the smoke in thick wreaths mounted higher and higher, " O God, it is fearful to perish by fire." Alone with destruction, alone on the sea; " Great Father of mercy, our hope is in Thee." Sad at heart and resigned, yet undaunted and brave. They lowered the boat, a mere speck on the wave. First entered the mother, enfolding her child : It knew she caressed it, looked upward and smiled. Cold, cold was the night as they drifted away. And mistily dawned o'er the pathway the day — They prayed for the light, and, at noontide about. The sun o'er the waters shone joyously out. " Ho ! a sail !" and they turned their glad eyes o'er the sea. " They see us, they see us, the signal is waved 1 They bear down upon us, they bear down upon us : Huzza! we are s&ved." ATTACK OP THE CUMBERLAND. [The following describes the fatal encounter of the Cumberland and the Mefrimac. on March 7, 1862. Strive to bring out the scene vividly in reading.] " Stand to your guns, men !" Morris cried ; Small need to pass the word ; Our men at quarters ranged themselves Before the drum was heard. And then began the sailors' jests: " What thing is that, I say ? A 'longshore meeting-house adrift Is standing down the bay !" A frown came over Morris's face; The strange, dark craft he knew ; " That is the iron Merrimac, Manned by a rebel crew. "So shot your guns and point them straight : Before this day goes by. We'll try of what her metal's made." A cheer was our reply. 188 88 READINGS AND RECITALS. " Remember, boys, this flag of ours Has seldom left its place ; And where it falls, the deck it strikes Is covered with disgrace. « I ask but this ; or sink or swim. Or live or nobly die. My last sight upon earth may be To see that ensign fly !" Meanwhile the shapeless iron mass Came moving o'er the wave, As gloomy as a passing hearse. As silent as the grave. Her ports were closed ; from stem to stern No sign of life appeared : We wondered, questioned, strained our eyes. Joked — everything but feared. She reached our range. Our broadsides rung j Our heavy pivots roared ; And shot and shell, a fire of hell. Against her side we poured. God's mercy! from her sloping roof The iron tempest glanced. As hail bounds from a cottage-thatch, And round her leaped and danced ; Or when against her duvky hull We struck a fair, full blow, The mighty, solid iron globes Were crumbled up like snow. On, on, with fast increasing speedy The silent monster came. Though all our starboard battery Was one long line of flame. She heeded not ; no guns she fired ; Straight on our bow she bore ; Through riving plank and crashing frame Her furious way she tore. READINGS AND RECITALS. 189 Alas ! our beauliful, keen bow. That in the fiercest blast So gently folded back the seas, They hardly felt we passed — Alas ! alas ! my Cumberland, That ne'er knew grief before. To be so gored, to feel so deep The tusk of that sea-boar ! Once more she backward drew apace ; ■ Once more our side she rent, Then, in the wanionness of hate. Her broadside through us sent. The dead and dying round us lay. But our foemen lay abeam ; Her open port-holes maddened us. We fired with shout and scream. We felt our vessel settling fast ; We knew our time was brief : "Ho! man the pumps!" But they who worked. And fought not, wept with grief. "Oh ! keep us but an hour afloat ! Oh ! give us only lime To mete unto yon rebel crew The measure of their crime ! From captain down to powder-boy. No hand was idle then : Two soldiers, but by chance aboard. Fought on like sailor men. And when a gun's-crew lost a hand. Some bold marine stepped out, Aud jerked his braided jacket off. And hauled the gun about. Our forward magazine was drowned. And up from the sick-bay Crawled out the wounded, red with blood. And round us gasping lay; Yes, cheering, calling us by name, Struggling with failing breath To keep their shipmates at the post Where glory strove with death. 190 READINGS AND RECITALS. With decks afloat and powder gone. The last broadside we gave From the guns' heated iron lips Burst out beneath the wave. So sponges, rammers, and handspikes— As men-of-war's men should — We placed within their proper racks. And at our quarters stood. " Up to the spar deck ! save yourselves !" Cried Selfridge. " Up, my men ! God grant that some of us may live To fight yon ship again !" We turned : we did not like to go; Yet slaying seemed but vain, Knee-deep in water ; so we left ; Some swore, some groaned with pain. We reached the deck. There Randall stood ; " Another turn, men, so !" Calmly he aimed his pivot gun : " Now, Tenny, let her go !" It did our sore hearts good to hear The song our pivot sang, As rushing on from wave to wave The whirring bomb-shell sprang. Brave Randall leaped upon the gun. And waved his cap in sport ; " Well done ! well aimed ! I saw that shell Go through an open port !" It was our last, our deadliest shot; The deck was overflown ; The poor ship staggered, lurched to port. And gave a living groan. Down, down, as headlong through the waves. Our gallant vessel rushed ; A thousand gurgling watery sounds Around my senses gushed. Then I remember little more; One look to heaven I gave. Where, like an .intiers wing, I saw Our spotless t-nsign wave. READINGS AND RECITALS. 191 I tried to cheer. I cannot say Whether I swam or sank ; A blue mist closed around my eyes, And everything was blank. When I awoke, a soldier lad, All dripping from the sea. With two great tears upon his cheeks. Was bending over me. I tried to speak. He understood 'The wish I could not speak. He turned me. There, thank God ! the flag Still fluttered at the peak ! And there, while thread shall hang to thread. Oh, let that ensign fly ! The noblest constellation set Against the northren sky— A sign that we who live may claim The peerage of the brave ; A monument that needs no scroll. For those beneath the wave. George H. Boker. THE GREAT BELL ROLAND. [Opportunity is here afforded for vigorous expression. Study variety.] Toll! Roland, toll! In old Saint Bavon's tower. At midnight hour. The great bell Roland spoke; And all that slept in Ghent awoke! What meant the thunder stroke ? Why trembled wife and maid ? Why caught each man his blade ? Why echoed every street With tramp of thronging feet. All flying to the city's wall ? It was the morning call That Freedom stood in peril of a foe ! 192 192 READINGS AND RECITALS. And even timid hearts grew bold Whenever Roland tolled, And every hand a sword could hold I And every arm could bend a bow I So acted men Like patriots then — Three hundred years ago ! Toll! Roland, toll! Bell never yet was hung, Between whose lips there swung So grand a tongue ! If men be patriots still, At thy first sound. True hearts will bound, Great souls will thrill ! Then toll I and let thy test Try each man's breast, And let him stand confest. Toll ! Roland, toll ! Not now in old Saint Bavon's tower; Not now at midnight hour; Not now from river Scheldt to Zuyder Zee, But here, — this side the sea ! — Toll here, in broad, bright day !^ For not by night awaits A noble foe without the gates. But perjured friends within betray. And do the deed at noon! Toll ! Roland, toll ! Thy sound is not too soon ! To Arms ! Ring out the Leader's call 1 Re-echo it from East to West, Till every hero's breast Shall swell beneath a soldier's crest I Toll ! Roland, toll. Till cottager from cottage-wall Snatch pouch and powder-horn and gun I The heritage of sire to son Ere half of Freedom's work was done! Toll ! Roland, toll ! Till swords from scabbards leap 1 Toll! Roland, toll! What tears can widows weep More bilter than when brave men fall J Toll! Roland, toll! In shadowed hut and hall Shall lie the soldier's pall, READINGS AND RECITALS. 193 And hearts shall break while graves are SUed 1 Amen ! so God hath willed ! And may His grace anoint us all 1 Toll ! Roland, toll ! The Dragon on thy tower Stands sentry to this hour, And Freedom now is safe in Ghent ! And merrier bells now ring, And in the land's serene content. Men shout " God save the King!" . Until the skies are rent 1 So let it be ! A kingly king is he Who keeps his people free I Toll ! Roland, toll ! Ring out across the sea ! No longer, they, but we. Have now such need of thee 1 Toll ! Roland, toll ! Nor ever let thy throat Keep dumb its warning note Till Freedom's perils be outbraved I Toll! Roland, toll! Till FreeJom's flag, wlierever waved. Shall shadow not a man enslaved ! Toll! Roland, toll! From Northern lake to Southern strand ! Toll! Roland, toll! Till friend and foe, at thy command. Shall clasp once more each other's hand, And shout, one-voiced, " God save the landl" And love the land that God hath saved ! Toll I Roland, toll ! Theodore Tilton, POETRY. [Poetry may be considered in a twofold view, as a spirit and a mani- festation. Perhaps the poetic spirit has never been more justly de- fined, than by Byron in his Prophecy of Dante, — a creation " From overfeeling good or ilt, an aim At an eternal life beyond our fate." This spirit may be manifested by language, metrical or prose, by decla- mation, by musical sounds, by expression, by gesture, by motion, and 13 194 READINGS AND RECITAL \ by imitating forms, colors and shades ; so that literature, oratory, music, physiognomy, acting, and the arts of painting and sculpture may all have their poetry ; but that peculiar spirit, which alone gives the great life and charm to all the efforts of genuis, is as distinct from the mea- sure and rhyme of poetical composition, as from the scientific principles cf drawing and perspective.] The world is full of poetry — the air Is living with its spirit; and the waves Dance to the music of its melodies. And sparkle in its brightness. Earth is veiled. And mantled with its beauty; and the walls That close the universe with crystal in. Are eloquent with voices, that proclaim The unseen glories of immensity. In harmonies, too perfect, and too high, For aught but beings of celestial mould, And speak to man in one eternal hymn, Unfading beauty, and unyielding power. The year leads round the seasons in a choir Forever charming, and forever new. Blending the grand, the beautiful, the gay. The mournful, and the tender, in one strain. Which steals into the heart, like sounds that rise Far off, in moonlight evenings, on the shore Of the wide ocean resting after storms ; Or tones that wind around the vaulted roof. And pointed arches, and retiring aisles Of some old, lonely minster, where the hand. Skillful, and moved with passionate love of art. Plays o'er the higher keys, and bears aloft The peals of bursting thunder, and then calls. By mellow touches, from the softer tubes. Voices of melting tenderness, that blend With pure and gentle musings, till the soul. Commingling with the melody, is borne, Kapt, and dissolved in ecstasy, to Heaven. 'Tis not the chime and flow of words, that mor* In measured file, and metrical array ; 'Tis not the union of returning sounds, Kor all the pleasing artifice of rhyme. And quantity, and accent, that can give This all-pervading spirit to the ear. Or blend it with the movings of the soul. 'Tis a mysterious feeling, which combines Man with the ^\■o^ld around him, in a chain Woven of flowers, and dipped in sweetness, till He taste the high communion of his thoughts. READINGS AND RECITALS. 195 With all existences, in earth and Heaven, That meet him in the ch;!rm of grace and power. 'Tis not the noisy babbler, who displays, In studied phrase, and ornate epithet. And rounded period, poor and vapid thoughts. Which peep from out the cumbrous ornaments That overload their littleness. Its vfords Are few, but deep and solemn ; and they break Fresh from the fount of feeling, and are full Of all that passion, which, on Carmel, fired The holy prophe*", when his lips were coals. His language wing<"d with terror, as when bolts Leap from the brooding tempest, armed with wrath. Commissioned to affright us and destroy. Well I remember, in my boyish days. How deep the feeling when my eye loolwi When he stands up to hear his sentence : Now tell me how many drams it takes To honor a jolly new acquaintance. Five yelps, — that's five; he's mighty knowing; The night's before us, fill the glasses; — Quick, Sir! I'm ill, my brain is going! — Some brandy, — thank you ; — there, — it passe-s t Why not reform ? Th.it's easily said ; But I've gone through such wretched treatment Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread, And scarce remembering what meat meant. That my poor stomach's past reform ; And there are times when, mad wit'n thinking, I'd sell out heaven for somelhint^ warm To prop a horrible inward sinking. Is there a way to forget to think ? At your age. Sir, home, fortune, friends, A dear girl's love, — but I took to drink; — . The same old story; you know liuw it ends. If you could have seen these classic features,— You needn't laugh. Sir; I was not then Such a burning libel on God's creatures; I was one of your handsome men— 20(206 READINGS AND RECITALS. If you had seen her, so fair, so young. Whose head was happy on this breast; If you could have heard the songs I sung When the wine went round, you wouldn't have gucss'd That ever I, Sir, should be straying From door to door, with fiddle and dog, Ragged and penniless, and playing To you to-night for a glass of grog. She's married since, — a parson's wife, 'Twas better for her that we should part; Better the soberest, prosiest life Than a blasted home and a brolten heart. I have seen her — once : I wns weak and spent On the dusty road ; a carriage stopped. But little she dreamed as on she went. Who kissed the coin that her fingers dropped. You've set me talking, Sir; I'm sorry; It makes me wild to think of the change t What do you care for a beggar's story ? Is it amusing ? you find it strange ? I had a mother so proud of me ! 'Twas well she died before — Do you know If the happy spirits in heaven can see The ruin and wretchedness here below? Another glass, and strong, to deaden This pain; then Roger and I will start. I wonder, has he such a lumpish, leaden. Aching thing, in place of a heart ? He is sad sometimes, and would weep, if he could. No doubt, remembering things that were, — A virtuous kennel, with plenty of food, And himself a sober, respectable cur. I'm better now; that glass was warming.—" You rascal ! limber your l.i/y feet ! We must be fiddling and performing For supper and bed, or starve in the street.— Not a very gny life to lead, you think. But soon we shall go \\ here lodgings are free, And the sleepers need neither victuals or drink; — The sooner, the better for Roger and me. J. T. Trowbridge. itEADINGS AND RECITALS. 207 THE BRIDAL PEAST. [A temperance reading.] A merry peal of marriage bells Steals softly on the evening air; Tiieir silver harmony foretells The weal or woe of some fond pair. A, festal throng had met at night, And joy beamed in the face of all ; A thousand gems were flashing bright Beneath the lamps within the hall, Which glared upon the festival. Music arose with dulcet swell, And strains of mirth were constant heard,' Peans of gladness rose and fell Like warbles of some forest bird. Or like the sound of limpid streams Which laugh adown the vale of dreams. The guests are seated here and there. On silken lounge and damask chair, And 'mid the din of laugh and song Soft words were whispered in the throng, And tender eyes a tale expressed. Which tongue had never yet confessed. Fair forms tripped o'er the tufted floors. While smiling faces went and came Like figures in a melodrame. And rustled through the oaken doors The robe of many a stately dame. The bride was young, the bride was f^. With laughing eyes and golden hair ; The groom was young, and brave was he As e'er to maiden bent a knee; A nobler pair, in sooth, than they Have not been seen in many a day. • Come, pledge with wine ! Come, pledge with winel" A young and thoughless gallant cried ; 'In amber juice of Gascon vine We'll pledge the happy groom and bride T' A brimming chalice then was poured. And off'ered to the bridal twain ; While round the glad and festal board The proffered toast was passed again. 208 208 HEADINGS AND KECiTALS. The rose forsook the fair bride's face. And left a lily in its place; For she had cause to dread the fell Distillments from the press of hell. So fatal to the human race; Still she took up the goblet there. And viewed it in the lamp's red glare. Then slowly raised it to her lip, As if she was about to sip The purple vintage, rich and rare; And then she paused, and with an eye Which seemed through distant space to pry. Gazed on the cup with eager stare. The amethystine goblet gleamed, And breathed soft fragrance on the air, Till Hermon's balmy dews, it seemed. With Eschol's clusters blended were. The merry jeer, the idle joke, Were hushed, as by a wizard's thrall; And through the lofty banquet hall No sound the si lemn stillness broke. One jeweled finger she upraised, Ornate with gems a queen might wear. And on the blushing cup she gazed. As though she saw a spectre there. And thus she spake : " I see a mountain range, whose purple busts Are lifted to the sky ; while o'er its brows Gossamer clouds hang like a bridal veil. Bright flowers are blooming on its ragged sides. And joyous birds are caroling in the shade Of giant oaks and beeches. A crystal rill. Merrily laughing, leaps from cliff to clifi. Eager to gambol in the vale beneath; And over all, a shadowy, cloud-like mist Mellows the harsher outlines of the crags. There ! there ! within a deep, cavernous gorge, I see the half-nude forms of savage men Flitting like phantoms, 'mong the umbrageous trees. And in their midst I see a manly form Stretched lowly on the cold and darksome sward,— How deathlike is the pallor of his cheek ! How gleams the fire of madness in his eye. As the wild fancies of delirium, Like Etna's flood, roll o'er his fevered brain ! One faithful friend kneels by him, and his head Is pillowed on his breast as tenderly As 'twere a mother with a dying child. HEADINGS AND RECITALS. 209 • Genius in ruins !' Oh, that noble youth I Why should death single out a marie so young? See how he throws the damp locks from his brow Of marble whiteness ! See him clasp his hands I Hear his appalling shrieks for help, for life ! Mark how he clutches at that kneeling form, Imploring to be saved ! Oh ! stones might weep A rivulet of tears to hear him call Upon his father's name! See him entwine His icy fingers, as he vainly shrieks For his loved sister, twin of his fond soul. Who weeps for him in a far distant land ! Andiiow his arms are lifted up to heaven. Praying for mercy; and his language bears Such fearful agony upon its tones. The red men move away with noiseless feet, And leave them quite alone. " 'Tis evening now, And like a warrior's shield, the great white moon Stalks through the eastern sky. One silver beam, Piercing the thickness of the clustering leaves. Lights up the features of the dying youth. His eyes are fixed and dim ; he does not heed The kindly words his friend pours in his ear. And now his head sinks back, he gasps for breath. His pulse is still — ah, no, it beats again ! 'Twas a mete fancy; it will beat no more, For death's cold hand is on him; he is deadl " They hollow out a grave within that glen ; Without a shroud they lay him in the earth, Wliere he shall sleep until the end of time. No sculptor's burin ever shall emboss A marble shaft to mark his lonely tomb. Dear friends, the youth who died in that strange land Was my twin brother; and he owed his death To ardent drink. Shall I now taste the cup?" She censed to speak; and o'er the room There fell a deep and cryptic gloom. A silence reigned, so dead and still, The rustling of a cambric frill Jarred on Ihe sense. The heart's quick throbs Were blended with the smothered sobs. And there was many a pallid face Amid the throng of young and fair; And many a cheek which showed the trace O. recent tears still clinging there. M 210 210 READINGS AND RECITALS. " Say, shall 1 taste the cup?" she cried; " No ! no !" a score of tongues replied; And he who first for wine did call, Cried " No !" the loudest of them all. " Then shun the cup," she cried again, " Twill brand you with the mark of Cain; Forswear at once the tempting bowl. That ruins body, mind and soul ! Thmk of my brother's lonely grave. Far by the bland Pacific wave ; Think of the hungry infant's wail; Think of the mother's visage pale; Think of the teeming prison's cell, Where rum-incited felons dwell; Think of our lovely sisters' doom, When wine has nipped them in their bloom ; Ay! pause and think of every shame, Of every crime too dark to name ; And let the wine-fiend's spell be riven, And turn your thoughts to home, and Heavenl Grave fathers all, whose foreheads show The weight of many a winter's snow. Abjure the wine-cnp from to-night. And with the Temperance Army fight : Some sons may check their vain desires By good examples of their sires. Full many a noble youth is here, ^Vho scarce has felt a barber's shear ; I charge you flee the demon's spell. As you would flee the curse of hell I For in the sparkling vintage lies A monster dressed in tempting guise. Who'll lure you from the path of right. By wizard wiles, and false delight : A siren's song may charm your ear, A siren's hand may offer cheer; But, as you listen to the sound. The glamor arts will close around, And you will fall from your high statt To be a ragged pauper's mate ; Rum will destroy your forms divine As Circe changed her guests to swine. •' Oh lovely maids ! to whom are given The beauties that embellish Heaven 1 None of you are too pure or fair To dally with the dreadful snare. Never for all Pactolus' wealth. In wine let lover drink your health; Beware the traitor who shall dare READINGS AND RECITALS. 211 For you the cursed draught prepare. Who loves you truly never will Consent the crime-fraught cup to fill. 'Tis he, who like a wily foe, Watches to deal a stealthy blow ; For this he weaves his hellish snare, To fall upon you unaware. Oh ! shun the tempter, one and all — Who offers wine essays your fall !" They feasted late, they feasted long, The guests were loud in laugh and song, The tables groaned beneath the weight Of China, glass, and gorgeous plate ; And luscious nuts, and dainty fare, Levantine fig, and orient date. Were seen among the viands rare. And pyramids of creamy ice. With frosted cakes ranged side by side; While Syrian fruit and Indian spice To grace the bridal banquet vied. 13ut no one touched a drop of wine. Though rich Champagne, and limpid Rhine, And Muscatel, — all sparkling bright, — And purple Port, stood full in sight. Among the crowd were those who'd quaff'd For years the soul-destroying drauglit; They saw the black and Stygian brink. And horrid gulf which yawned beneath, Filled with a thousand forms of death. All victims of the demon — Drink! And then and there they soothly swore To touch the tempting cup no more. But ever drink what God had given. And sent them, on the clouds, from heaven I F. C. Long. THE RAINT DAY. [Reflective conversational, Hope beaming through the last stanza.] The day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; The vine still clings to the moldering wall. But at every gust the dead leaves fall. And the day is rlark and dreary. 2 212 READINGS AXD RECITALS. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; My thouglits still cling to the moldering past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast. And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. Longfellow. THE CHARCOAL MAN. [Conversational, with calling voice varied in adaptation to the sens« -loud or low, near or distant, as i ecMired.J Though rudely blows the wintry blast. And sifting snows fall while and fast, Mark Haley drives along the street. Perched high upon his wagon seat; His sombre face the storm defies, And thus from morn till eve he cries — " Charco' ! charco' !" While echo faint and far replies — "Hark, O! hark, O!" " Charco' !" — " Hark, O !"— Such cheery sounds Attend him on his daily rounds. The dust begrimes his ancient hat ; His coat is darker far than that ; 'Tis odd to see his sooty form All speckled with the feathery storm, Yet in his honest bosom lies No spot, nor speck — Ihiiugh still he cries, '* Charco' ! charco' !" And many a roguish lad replies — " Ark, ho ark, ho !" ' Charco' :" — " Ark, ho !" — Such various sounds Announce Mark Haley's morning rounds. Thus all the cold and wintry day He labors much for little pay. Yet feels no less of happiness READINGS AND RECITALS. 213 Than many a richer man, I guess, When through the shades of eve he spies The light of his own home, and cries — " Charco' I charco' !" And Martha from the door replies — "Mark, ho! Mark, ho!" " Charco' !" — " Mark, ho 1" — Such joy abounds When he has closed his daily rounds. The hearth is warm, the 6re is bright ; And while his haiul, washed clean and ^rhite. Holds Martha's tender hand once more, Ilis glowing face bends fondly o'er The crib wherein his darling lies, And in a coaxing tone he cries, " Charco' 1 charco' !" And baby with a lai'gh replies — " Ah, gol ah, go!" «* Charco' !" — " Ah, go !" — while at the sound* The mother's heart with gladness bounds. Then honored be the charcoal man. Though dusky as an African. 'Tis not for you that chance to be A little better clad than he. His honest manhood to despise. Although from morn till eve he cries—: " Charco' 1 charco' !" While mocking echo still replies — " Hark, O ! hark, O !" " Charco' !"— " Hark, O !' — Long may th» sounds Proclaim Mark Haley's daily rounds ! J. T. Trowbrioge, THE REVOLUTIONARY RISING. [This patriotic story should be told in a graphic manner.] Out of the North the wild news came, Far flashing on its wings of flame, Swift as the boreal light which flies At midnight through the startled skies; And there was tumult in the air. The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat. And through the wide land everywhere The answering tread of hurrying feeti 214 214 READINGS AND JiECITAL& While the first oath of Freedom's gun Came on the blast from Lexington : And Concord roused, no longer tame. Forgot her old baptismal name, Made bare her patriot arm of power, And swelled the discord of the hour. Within its shade of elm and oak The church of Berkley Manor stood. There Sunday found the rural folk, And some esteemed of gentle blood. In vain their feet with loitering tread Passed mid the graves where rank is naught; All could not read the lesson taught In that republic of the dead. How sweet the hour of Sabbath talk, The vale with peace and sunshine full. Where all the happy people walk, Decked in their homespun flax and wool; Where youth's gay hats with blossoms blooiBg /ind every maid, with simple art. Wears on her breast, like her own heart, A bud whose depths are all perfume ; While every garment's gentle stir Is breathing rose and lavender. The pastor came ; his snowy locks Hallowed his brow of thought and care; And calmly, as shepherds lead their flocks, He led into the house of prayer. Then soon he rose ; the prayer was strong; The Psalm was warrior David's song; The text, a few short words of might — " The Lord of hosts shall arm the right P^ He spoke of wrongs too long endured. Of sacred rights to be secured ; Then from his patriot tongue of flame The startling words for Freedom came. The stirring sentences he spake Compelled the heart to glow or quake, And, rising on the theme's broad wing. And grasping in his nervous hand The imagin ry battle-brand. In face of dcatli he dared to fling Defiance to a tyrant king. READINGS AND KECaAl.S. L35 Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed In eloquence of attitude, Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher; Then swept his kindling glance of fire From startled pew to breathless choir; When suddenly his mantle wide tf is hands impatient flung aside. And, lo ! he met their wondering eyes Complete in all a warrior's guise. A moment there was awful pause — When Berkley cried, "Cease, traitor! cease! God's temple is the house of peace !" The other shouted, " Nay, not so, When God is with our righteous cause; His holiest places then are ours. His temples are our forts and towers That frown upon the tyrant foe ; In this, the dawn of Freedom's day. There is a time to fight and pray !" And now before the open door — The warrior priest had ordered so— The enlisting trumpet's sudden roar Rang through the chapel, o'er and o'er. Its long reverberating blow. So loud and clear, it seemed the ear Of dusty death must waks and hear. And there the startling drum and fife Fired the living with fiercer life; While overhead, with wild increase, Forgetting its ancient toll of peace, The great bell swung as ne'r befor«. It seemed as it would never cease; And every word its ardor flung From off its jubilant iron tongue Was, "Warl WarI WAR!" " Who dares ?" — this was the patriot's cry. As striding from the desk he came — " Come out with me, in Freedom's name. For her to live, for her to die !" A hundred hands flung up reply, ▲ hundred 'oices answered, " 1 1" Thomas Buchanan Read. 216 READINGS AND RECITALS. MAJOR SLOTT'S VISITOR. [Impersonate. Barker should speak rapidly and confidently ; the major should become more and more impatient and excited.] While Major Slott was sitting in the ofifice of the Patriot, writing an editorial about "Our Grinding Monopolies," he suddenly becaroe conscious of the presence of a fearful smell. He stopped, snuffed the air two or three times, and at last lighted a cigar to fumigate the room. Then he heard footsteps upon the stairs, and as they drew nearer the smell grew stronger. When it had reached a degree of intensity that caused the major to fear that it might break some of the furniture, there was a knock at the door. Then a man entered with a bundle under his arm, and as he did so the major thought that he had never smelt such a fiendish smell in the whole course of his life. He held his nose ; and when the man saw the gesture, he said, " I thought so ; the usual effect. You hold it *ight while I explain." " What hab you god id that buddle?" asked the nujor. "That, sir," said the man, "is Barker's Carbolic Dis- infecting Door-mat. I am Barker, and this is the mat. I invented it, and it's a big thing." " Is id thad thad smells so thudderig bad?" asked the maj'f, with his nostrils tightly shut. " Yes, sir; smells very strong, but it's a healthy smell. It's invigorating. It braces the system. I'll tell you — " " Gid oud with the blabed thig !" exclaimed the major. " I must tell you all about it first. I called to explain it to you. You see I've been investigating the causes of epidemic diseases. Some scientists think they are spread by molecules in the air; others attribute them to gases generated in the sewers; others hold that they are con- veyed by contagion; but I — " "Aid you goig to tague thad idferdal thig away from here?" asked the major. "But I have discovered that these diseases are spread by the agency of door-mats. Do you understand ? Door- mats 1 And I'll explain to you how its done. Here's a man who's been in a house where there's disease. He gets it on his boots. The leather is porous, and it be- READINGS AND RECITALS. 217 comes saturated. He goes to another house and wipes his boots on the mat. Now, every man who uses that mat must get some of the stuff on his boots, and he spreads it over every other door-mat that he wipes them on. Now, don't he?" " Why dode you tague that shell frob udder by dose?" "Well, then, my idea is to construct a door-raat thpi will disinfect those boots. I do it by saturating the mat with carbolic acid and drying it gradually. I have one here prepared by my process. Shall I unroll it?" " If you do, I'll blow your braids out !" shouted the major. " Oh, very well, then. Now, the objection to this beau- tiful invention is that it possesses a very strong and posi- tive odor." "I'll bed it does," said the major. "And as this is offensive to many persons, I give to each purchaser a ' nose-guard,' which is to be worn upon the nose while in a house where the carbolic mat is placed. The nose-guard is filled with a substance which completely neutralizes the smell, and it has only one disadvantage. Now, what is that?" " Are you goig to quid and let me breathe, or are you goig to stay here all day log?" "Have patience, now; I'm coming to the point. I say, what is that ! It is that the neutralizing substance in the nose-guard evaporates too quickly. And how do I remedy that ? I give to every man who buys a mat and a nose-guard two bottles of ' neutralizer.' What it is com- posed of is a secret. But the bottles are to be carried in the pocket, so as to be ready for every emergency. The disadvantage of this plan consists of the fact that the neu- tralizer is highly explosive, and if a man should happen to sit down on a bottle of it in his coat-tail pocket suddenly it might hist him through the roof. But see how beauti- ful my scheme is." " Oh, thudder add lightnig ! aid you ever going to quid?" " See how complete it is ! By paying twenty dollars additional, every man who takes a mat has his life pro- tected in the Hopelessly Mutual Accident Insurance Com- pany, so that it really makes no difference whether he is busted through the shingles or not. Now, does it Y\ ri8 READIJsraS AND RECITALS. "Oh, dode ask me. I dode care a ced about id, ady- way." "Well, then, what I want you to do is to give me a first-rate notice in your paper, describing the invention, giving the public some general notion of its merits and recommending its adoption in general use. You give me a half-column pufif, and I'll make the thing square by leav- ing you one of the mats, with a couple of bottles of the neutralizer and a nose-guard; I'll leave them now." "Whadd'yousay?" " I say I'll just leave you a mat and the other fixings for you to look over at your leisure." "You biserable scoundrel, if you lay wod ob those thigs down here, I'll burder you od the spodl I wod stad such foolishness." "Won't you notice it, either?" " Certaidly nod. I woulded do id for ten thousand dollars a lide. " " Well, then, let it alone ; and I hope one of those epi- demic diseases will get you and lay you up for life." As Mr. Barker withdrew. Major Slott threw up the win- dows, and after catching his breath, he called down stairs to a reporter : " Perkins, follow that man and hear what he's got to say, and then blast him in a column of the awfulest vitu- peration you know how to write." Perkins obeyed orders, and now Barker has a libel suit pending against The Patriot, while the carbolic mat has not yet been introduced to this market. Max. Adeler. THE RAINBOW. [Articulate clearly; avoid rhythm.] I sometimes have thought in my loneliest hours, That lie on my heart like the dew on the flowers. Of a ramble I took one bright afternoon, When my heart was as light as a blossom in June; READINGS AND RECITALS. 219 The green earth was moist with tlie late fallen showers, The breeze fluttered down and blew open the flowers; While a single white cloud to its haven of rest, On the white wing of peace floated off in the west. As I threw back my tresses to catch the cool breeze That scattered the rain-drops and dimpled the seas. Far up the blue sky a fair rainbow unrolled Its soft-tinted pinions of purple and gold ! 'Twas born in a moment, yit, quick as its birth, It has stretched to the uttermost ends of the earth, And, faij as an angel, it floated all free, With a wing on the earth and a wing on the sea. How calm was the ocean I how gentle its swell ! Like a woman's soft bosom, it rose and it fell. While its light sparkling waves, stealing laughingly .r^t^ When they saw the fair rainbow, knelt down to thvr ^nor&s No sweet hymn ascended, no murmur of prayer. Yet I felt that the spirit of wtir^hip was there, And bent my young head in devotion and love, 'Neath the form of the angel that floated above. How wide was the sweep of its beautiful wings I How boundless its circle, how radiant its rings! If I looked on the sky, 'twas suspended in air; If I looked on the ocean, the rainbow was therej Thus forming a girdle as brilliant and whole As the thoughts of the rainbow that circled my soul — Like the wing of the Deity, calmly unfurled. It bent from the cloud, and encircled the world. There are moments, I think, when the spirit receives Whole volumes of thought on its~unwritten leaves; When the folds of the heart in a moment unclose, Like the innermost leaves from the heart of a rose; And thus, when the rainbow had passed from the- sky, The thoughts it awoke were too deep to pass by; It left my full soul like the wing of a dove. And fluttering with pleasuee, and fluttering with love. I know that each moment of rapture or pain But shortens the links in life's mystical chain ; I know that my form, like that bow from the wave, May pass from the earth and lie cold in the grave ; Yet oh ! when death's shadows my bosom uncloud — When I shrink from the thought of the cofEn and shroud. May Hope, like the rainbow, my spirit unfold Jn her beautiful pinions of purple and gold 220 READINGS AND RECITALS. THE RUM MANIAC. REVISED AND ADAPTED BY FRANK H. FENNO. [The following temperance reading or recitation is a union of Rum's Maniac by T. W. Nolt, and TAe Rum Fiend, written l:y William 11. Burleigh and published by J. N. Stearns of New Yor]». Having secured full permission to use the Ritm Fiend for this purpose, 'Ihe Rum Maniac is presented as a powerful and effective reading.] 1 saw through the grates of a prison door, Handcuffed and chained to the granite floor, A man whose maniac eyes did glare Through the tangled veil of his matted hair; For the hot blood throbbed through every vein, And the fires of madness scorched his brain, And phantom fiends, a ghastly train. With every loathly seeming. Came crowding in pairs — in flocks — in swarms With laughters and curses, and taunts and jeers. To torture his soul and to deafen his ears, — And he gnawed his tongue in his fierce despair. And howled a curse, or muttered a prayer. Whose sad refrain was ever, • Blood ! blood ! It foams in the cursed bowl 1 It is on my hands ! It stains my soul ! It crimsons the sky With its terrible dye, And the earth which drank it cries ' More 1 give more! My thirst for the vintage of murder is sort. Let it flow — let it swell to a river 1' " Then, in accents soft and low. Murmured he his tale of woe : "Did I slay thee, deare'^t wife? Thee ? — oh ! better loved than life — Thee, whose smile was like the light Flashing o'er my being's night, Making what was dark and dull Beautiful — how beautiful ! Thee, whose voice was like a bird's. Musical with loving words ; And whose heart poured out for me Love, exhaustless as the sea, Fresh as Eden's morning air. Guileless as a seraph's prayer, Pure as is the purest gem In the New Jerusalem ! Did I slay thee? Nay ; though mine Was the hand that dealt the blow. READINGS AND RECITALS. 221 'Twas the demon in llie wine That has wrought this utter woe 1 Curses on the wretch who gave Me the draught and thee a grave !" By his side a good man knelt to pray, And strove to lure his soul away From its fancies dark to the hope of heaven; But still to his every word of prayer Some imp would mutter, " Despair I despair!" Till every wave of the pulsing air He deemed was stirred By a single word Reiteraitt ever — " Despair! despair!" And the wretch gasped faintly, " Too late ! too late I I have wooed, so leave me to wed my fate — Bereft of hope and reprobate. To die unshrined, unforgiven !" " Nay," said the man of God, " His grace Exceeds our guilt; none seek his face Through penitence and prayer in vain." From his couch the maniac leaped, his hand Stretched with a gesture of command. And with a hoarse voice, whose intense Yet fierce and passionate eloquence Thrilled throupli the hearer's heart and brain, While the beaded sweat on his forehead stood, And the foam on his lips was tinged with blood. He said, in his wild, despairing mood: Vex me no more with idle prayer ! For other ears your sermons keep! I know the whole of hell's despair — Through all my veins its horrors creep! I stand within its burning caves, Beyond the reach of Mercy's call. And hear the dash of fiery waves Against its adamantine wall ! Why am I thus ? the maniac cried, Confined 'mid crazy people ? Why ? I am not mad — knave, stand aside 1 I'll have my freedom, or I'll die ; It's not for cure that here I've come; I tell thee, all I want is rum — I must have rum ! Sane? yes, and have been all the while; Why, then, tormented thus ? 'Tis sad : Why chained, and held in duress vile? The men who brought me here were mad; 222 EADINGS AND RECITALS. I will not stay where spectres come ; Let me go home ; I must have rum, — I must have rum I 'Tis he ! 'tis he I my aged sire 1 Wliat has disturbed thee in thy grave? Why bend on me that eye of fire? Why torment, since thou canst not save? Back to the churchyard whence you've corner Return, return! but send me rum — Oh, send me rum ! Why is my mother musing there. On that same consecrated spot Where once she taught me words of prayer? But now she hears, she heeds me not. Mute in her winding-sheet she stands; Cold, cold, I feel her icy hands, — Her icy hands ! She's vanished ; but a dearer friend — I know her by her angel smile — Has come her partner to attend. His hours of misery to beguile; Haste, haste ! loved one, and set me free ; 'Twere heaven to 'scape from hence to thee,-~ From hence to thee. She does not hear; away she flies. Regardless of the chain I wear. Back to her mansion in the skies. To dwell with kindred spirits there. Why has she gone ? Why did she come I O, I'm ruined ! Give me rum, — Oh, give me rum I Hark, hark ! for bread my children cry, A cry that drinks my spirits up; But 'tis in vain, in vain to try ; Oh, give me back the drunkard's cup ! My lips are parched, my heart is sad ; This cursed chain ! 'twill make me mad, — 'Twill make me mad! It won't wash out, that crimson stain! I've scoured those spots, and made them white; Blood reappears again, again, Soon as tlie morning brings the light 1 READINGS AND RECITALS. 223 When from my sleepless couch I come, To see, to feel — oh, give me rum 1 I must have rum. 'Twas there I heard his piteous cry. And saw his last imploring look; But steeled my heart, and bade him die. Then from him golden treasures took ; Accursed treasure ! stinted sum ! Reward of guilt ! Give, give me rum,-' Oh, give me rum ! • Hark! still I hear that piteous wail; Before my eyes his spectre stands; And when it frowns on me I quail ! Oh, I would fly to other lands; But, that pursuing, there 'twould come; There's no escape ! Oh, give me rum,— Oh, give me rum ! Guard, guard those windows! bar that doorf Yonder I armed bandits see ! They've robbed my house of all its store. And now return to murder me ; They're breaking in ; don't let them come I Drive, drive them hence ! but give me rum,— Oh, give me rum ! See how that rug those reptiles soil; They're crawling o'er me in my bed; I feel their clammy, snalcy coil On every limb — around my head; With forked tongue I see them play ; I hear them hiss — tear them away, — Tear them away ! A fiend ! a fiend, with many a dart. Glares on me with his bloodshot eye. And aims his missiles at my heart — Oh! whither, whither shall I fly? Fly ? No, it is no lime for flight ; I know thy wicked purpose well; Avaunt ! avaunt, thou hated sprite, And hie thee to tliy native hell 1 He's gone, he's gone ! and I am free ; He's gone, the faithless, braggart liarj He said he'd come to summon me — See there again, my bed's on fire ! 224 !24 READINGS AND RECITALS. Fire ! water ! help ! Oh haste, I die I The flames are kindling round my head I This smoke ! — I'm strangling! — cannot fly! Oh 1 snatch me from this burning bed 1 There, there again ! that demon's there. Crouching to make a fiesh attack ; See how his flaming eyeballs glare ! Thou fiend of fiends, what's brought thee back? Back in thy car ? for whom ? for where ? He smiles, he beckons me to come : What are those words thou'st written there ? " In hell they never want for rum !" Not want for rum ? Read that again ! I feel the spell ! haste, drive me down Where rum is free, where revellers reign, And I can wear the drunkard's crown. Accept thy proffer, fiend? I will; And to thy drunken banquet come; Fill the great caldron from thy still With boiling, burning, fiery rum. There will I quench this horrid thirst; With boon companions drink and dweli Nor plead for rum , as here I must — There's liberty to drink in hell. Thus raved the maniac rum had made; Then, starting from his haunted bed, On, on ! ye demons, on ! he said, Then silent sunk, — his soul had fled. Scoffer, beware ! he in that shroud Was once a temperate drinker, too. And felt as safe, declaimed as loud Against intemperance as you ; And yet, ere long, I saw him stand Refusing, on the brink of hell, A pardon from his Saviour's hand. Then plunging down with fiends to dwell. From thence, methinks, I hear him say, " Dash down the chalice, break the spell. Stop while you can and where you may; There's no escape when once in hell." O God, thy gracious spirit send That we the mocker's snares may fly. And thus escape that dreadful end — That death eternal drunkards die. READINGS AND RECITALS. 225 THE GRACIOUS ANSWER. [The first half of each stanza should be subdued ; the last half con- fident and full of assurance.] The way is dark, my Father 1 Cloud on cloud Is gathering thickly o'er my head, and loud "Tie thunders roar above me. See, I stand ike on* bewildered ! Father, take my hand, And through the gloom Lead safely home Thy child I The way is dark, my child ! but leads to light. I would not always have thee walk, by sight. My dealings now thou canst not understand. I meant it so ; but I will take thy hand. And through the gloom Lead safely home My child 1 The day goes fast, my Father ! and the night Is growing darkly down. My faithless sight Sees ghostly visions. Fears, a spectral band, Encompass me. O Father ! take my hand. And from the night Lead up to light Thy child 1 The day goes fast, my child ! But is the night Darker to me than day? In me is light! Keep close to me, and every spectral band Of fears shall vanish. I will take thy hand, And through the night Lead up to light My child t The way is long, my Father ! and my soul Longs for the rest and quiet of the goal : — While yet I journey through this weary land. Keep me from wandering. Father, take my hand; Quickly and straight Lead to Heaven's gate Thy child I 226 READINGS AND RECITALS. The way is long, my child ! but it shall be Not one step longer than is best for thee ; And thou shalt know, at last, when thou shalt stand Safe at the goal, how I did take thy hand. And quick and straight Lead to Heaven's gate My child 1 The path is rough, my Father ! many a thorn Has pierced me ; and my weary feet, all torn And bleeding, mark the way. Yet thy command Bids me press forward. Father, take my hand ; Then, safe and blest. Lead up to rest Thy child ! The path is rough, my child ! But oh ! how sweet Will be the rest, for weary pilgrims meet. When thou shalt reach the borders of that land To which I lead thee, as I take thy hand; And safe and blest With me shall rest My child 1 The throng is great, my Father ! many a doubt. And fear, and danger, compass me about; And foes oppress me sore. I cannot stand Or go alone. O Father ! take my hand. And through the throng Lead safe along Thy child! The throng is great, my child! But at thy sido Thy father walks ; then be not terrified, For I am with thee ; will thy foes command To let thee freely pass ;— will take thy hand. And through the throng Lead safe along My child 1 VL The cross is heavy, Father ! I have borne It long, and still do bear it. Let my worn And fainting spirit rise to that blest land Where crowns aie given. Father, take my hand; And reaching down Lead to the crown Thy child! READINGS AND RECITALS. Til The cross is heavy, child ! Yet there was One Who bore a heavier cross for thee; my Son, My well-beloved. For him bear thine ; and stand With him at last ; and from thy Father's hand. Thy cross laid down, Receive a crown. My child ! Henry N. Cobb. THE MINER'S DEATH. [Simple description — pathos — impersonation.] The sun was going down, And its rays o'er the landscape wen Standing upon an old tent That stood, tattered and brown, Half in the shade of a tree ; And in the distance you could see Two miners coming from their toil, and talking In low tones, while homeward walking. Look 1 within the shelter lies a man On a rude couch, beneath a blanket, His suffering face desolate and wan; There near him is the tin pan Filled at morn with water; fevered, he drank it Soon as his companions left, after rough comfort spoken, For their toil. There lies his food all unbroken. And the little flask of spirits close at hand; And round about the canvas-shelter stand Shovels and miner's boots, earth-worn and stained. Stretched here, for weary days he had remained. Weak from the fever, helpless as a child, With naught to see without but rocky wild; Within, these objects in his canvas-room. The day was so long, would they never come ? And the vision of his distant, happy home He saw when he closed his weary eyes. From which the tears trickled down his thin cheek; " Oh, God! that I should leave dear ones, to seek Here in these barren wilds tlie golden prize." How his expectant, eager gaze ran o'er The little space 'twixt his couch and the tent door. "Will they never come! — the sun is going down, And I am going too ; 'tis terrible to die alone. And no one here to take my message home; 228 READINGS AND RECITALS. It's getting darker, too, — footsteps ! here they come, — Oh, Tom, you're here at last; I had begun to fear That you forgot; — some water." Both come near, " I'm going, buys I Carry this ring and curl. To my Mary, Jack, and her little girl; You'll do it? Thanks 1 Tom, good by." " Cheer up, Joe ; don't take on so, you mustn't die !" " I must; but remember— these to Mary — your — word — kce^v It's getting dark — so tired, — yes — yes — I'll sleep. Tom, I can't see, but feel your hand the same." The smile of peace, his poor, wan face o'ercame; One deep, sad sigh ; — he slept, indeed, that blest repose That in this world no hour of waking knows. John Hanover. ELA.TE KETCHBM. [This parody on Maud Mutter should be read in a tone of simple narration, avoiding a measured style. Impersonate wherever neces- sary.] Kate Ketchem, on a winter's night. Went to a party, dressed in white. Her chignon in a net of gold Was about as large as they ever sold. Gayly she went because her " pap" V. as supposed to be a rich old chap. But when by chance her glances fell On a friend who had lately married well, Her spirits sunk, and a vague unrest And a nameless longing filled her breast — A wish she wouldn't have had made known. To have an establishment of her own. Tom Fudge came slowly through the throng. With chestnut hair, worn pretty long. He saw Kale Ketchem in the crowd. And, knowing her slightly, stopped and bowed; READINGS AND RECITALS. 22^ Then asked her to give him a single flower, Saying he'd think it a priceless dower. Out from those with which she was decked She took the poorest she could select, And blushed as she jjave it, looking down To call attention to her gown. " Thanks," said Fudge, and he thought how dear Flowers must be at this time of year. Then several charming remarks he made. Asked if she sang, or danced, or played; And being exhausted, inquired whether She thought it was going to be pleasant weather. And Kate displayed her jewelry. And dropped her lashes becomingly ; And listened, with no attempt to disguise The admiration in her eyes. At last, like one who has nothing to say, He turned around and walked away. Kate Ketchem smiled, and said "You bet I'll catch that Fudge and his money yet. " He's rich enough to keep me in clothes, And I think I could manage him as I chose. ** He could aid my father as well as not. And buy my brother a splendid yacht. " My mother for money should never fret. And all that it cried for the baby should get ; " And after that, with what he could spare, I'd make a show at a charity fair." Tom Fudge looked back as he crossed the iill. And saw Kate Ketchem standing still. " A girl more suited to my mind It isn't an easy thing to find; 230 230 READINGS AND RECITALS. " And everythinjT that she has to wear Proves her as rich as she is fair. " Would she were mine, and that I to-day Had the old man's cash my debts to pay ; " No creditors with a long account, No tradesmen waiting ' that little amount;' " But all my scores paid up when due By a father-in-law as rich as a Jew 1" But he thought of her brother, not worth a straw. And her mother, that would be his, in law ; So, undecided, he walked along. And Kate was left alone in the throng. But a lawyer smiled, whom he sought by stealth. To ascertain old Ketchem's wealth ; And as for Kate, she schemed and planned Till one of the dancers claimed her hand. He married her for her father's cash — She married him to cut a dash. But as to paying his debts, do you know The father couldn't see it so; And at hints for help Kate's hazel eyes Looked out in their innocent surprise. And when Tom thought of the way he had wed. He longed for a single life instead. And closed his eyes in a sulky mood. Regretting the days of his bachelorhood; And said in a sort of reckless vein, " I'd like to see her catch me again, " If I were free as on that night I saw Kate Ketchem dressed in white 1" She wedded him to be rich and gay; But husband and children didn't pay. READINGS AND RECITALS. 231 He wasn't the prize she hoped to draw, And wouldn't live with his mother-in-law. And oft when she had to coax and pout In order to get him to take her out. She thought how very attentive and bright He seemed at the party that winter's night — Of his laugh, as soft as a breeze of the south, ('Twiis now on the other side of his mouth ;) How he praised her dress and gems in his talk. As he took a careful account of stock. Sometimes she hated the very walls^ Hated her friends, her dinners, and calls : Till her weak affections to hatred turned. Like a dying tallow candle burned. And for him who sat there, her peace to mar. Smoking his everlasting cigar — He wasn't the man she thought she saw. And grief was duty, and hate was law. So she took up her burden with a groan. Saying only, " I might have known 1" Alas for Kate 1 and alas for Fudge 1 Though I do not owe them any grudge; And alas for any that find to their shame That two can play at their little game I For of all hard things to bear and grin. The hardest is knowing you're taken in. Ah well I as a general thing we fret About the one we didn't get ; But I think we needn't make a fuss If the one we don't want didn't get us. Phcebe Car»y, in Harper' t Baxar, SS2 READINGS AND RECITALS. MR. FOGG'S ACCOUNT OP A SCrBNTTPIO EXPERIMENT. [Impersonate. Let the interruptions be sudden, and the changei marked. The story should be told in a natural manner.] Mr. Fogg has a strong tendency to exaggeration in con- versation, and he gave a striking illustration of this in a story that he related one day when I called at his house. Fogg was telling me about an incident that occurred in a neighboring town a few days before, and this is the way he related it : "You see old Bradley over here is perfectly crazy on the subject of gases and the atmosphere and such things — - absolutely wild ; and one day he was disputing with Green about how high up in the air life could be sustained, and Bradley said an animal could live about forty million miles above the earth if — " "Not forty millions, my dear," interposed Mrs. Fogg; "only forty miles, he said." "Forty, was it? Thank you. Well, sir, old Green, you know, said that was ridiculous ; and he said he'd bet Bradley a couple of hundred thousand dollars that life couldn't be sustained half that way up, and so — " " Wilberforce, you are wrong; he only offered to bet fifty dollars," said Mrs. Fogg. "Well, anyhow, Bradley took him up quicker'n a wink, and they agreed to send up a cat in a balloon to decide the bet. So what does Bradley do but buy a balloon abotU twice as big as our barn and begin to — " "It was only about ten feet in diameter, Mr. Adeler; Wilberforce forgets." " — Begin to inflate her. When she was filled, it took eighty men to hold her; and — " "Eighty men, Mr. Fogg!" said Mrs. F. "Why, you know Mr. Bradley held the balloon himself." "He did, did he? Oh, very well; what's the odds? And when everything was ready, they brought out Brad- ley's tomcat and put it in the basket and tied it in, so it couldn't jump, you know. There were about one hundred tnousand people looking on; and when they let go, yo» never heard such — ' ' READINGS AND RECITALS. 233 " There was not one more than two hundred people there, ' said Mrs. Fogg; " I counted them myself." " Oh, don't bother me ! — I say, you never heard such a yell as the balloon went scooting up into the sky, pretty near out of sight. Bradley said she went up about one thousand miles, and — now, don't interrupt me, Maria; I know what the man said — and that cat, mind you, howling like a hundred fog-horns, so's you could heard her from here to Peru. Well, sir, when she was up so's she looked as small as a.pin-head something or other burst. I dunno know how it was, but pretty soon down came that balloon, a-hurtling toward the earth at the rate of fifty miles a minute, and old — " "Mr. Fogg, you know that balloon came down as gently as — " "Oh, do hush up ! Women don't know anything about such things. — And old Bradley, he had a kind of register- ing thermometer fixed in the basket along with that cat — ■ some sort of a patent machine; cost thousands of dollars — • and he was expecting to examine it; and Green had an idea he'd lift out a dead cat and take in the stakes. When all of a sudden, as she came pelting down, a tornado struck her — now, Maria, what in thunder are you staring at me in that way for? It was a tornado — a regular cyclone — and it struck her and jammed her against the lightning-rod on the Baptist church-steeple ; and there she stuck — stuck on that spire about eight hundred feet up in the air, and looked as if she had come there to stay." "You may get just as mad as you like," said Mrs. Fogg, " but I am positively certain that steeple's not an inch over ninety-five feet." " Maria, I wish to gracious you'd go up stairs and look after the children. — Well, about half a minute after she struck, out stepped that tomcat onto the weathercock. It made Green sick. And just then the hurricane reached the weathercock, and it began to revolve six hundred or seven hundred times a minute, the cat howling until you couldn't hear yourself speak. — Now, Maria, you've had your put ; you keep quiet. — That cat stayed on the weather- cock about two months — " "Mr. Fogg, that's an awful story; it only happened last Tuesday." 23nl SKiDIJVGS AND RECITALS. "Never mind her," said Mr. Fogg, confidentially. — " And on Sunday the way that cat carried on and yowled, with its tail pointing due east, was so awful that they couldn't have church. And Sunday afternoon the preacher told Bradley if he didn't get that cat down he'd sue him for one million dollars damages. So Bradley got a gun and shot at the cat fourteen hundred times. — Now you didn't count 'em, Mai'a, and I did. — And he banged the top of the steeple all to splinters, and at last fetched down the cat, shot to rags; ard in her stomach he found his thermometer. She'd ate it on her way up, and it stood at eleven hundred degrees, so old — " " No thermometer ever rliod at such a figure as that," exclaimed Mrs. Fogg. "Oh, well," shouted Mr. Fogg, indignantly, "if you think you can tell the story b worry the life out of a man." Then Fogg slimmed the door and went out, and I left. / don't know ivhether Bradley go* the stakes or not. THE CATARACT OP laODORE.* [This exercise in articulation and moduiaiioj^ should be read in such a manner as to make the sound seem an echo to 'he sense. The poem is a reply to the question, " How does the >,»aHr come down at Lodore?"] Here it comes sparVling, And there it lies darkling; Here smoking and frothing, Its tumult and wrath in. It hastens along, conflicting, and strongs Now striking and raging. As if a war waging, Its caverns and rocks among. Rising and leaping. Sinking and creeping, Swelling and flinging, Showering and springing, • A celeftrated fall on Derwent-Water, in Cumberland, Eng\a'V* READINGS AND RECITALS. 235 Eddying and whisking. Spouting and frisking, Twining and twisting Around and around, — Collecting, disjecting, Witli endless rebound; Smiting and fighting, A sight to delight in, Conlounding, astounding. Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound. Receding and speeding, And sliocking and rocking, And whizzing and hissing, And dripping and skipping, And whitening and brightening, And quivering and shivering, And shining and twining. And rattling and battling, And shaking and quaking. And pouring and roaring. And waving and raving, And tossing and crossing, And flowing and growing. And hurrying and skurrying, And dinning and spinning, And foaming and roaming, And dropping and hopping, And heaving and cleaving. And driving and riving and striving, And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling. And sounding and bounding and rounding. And bubbling and troubling and doubling, Dividing and gliding and sliding. And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling. And gleaming and streaming and steaming aiid beaming. And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing. And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping. And curling and whirling and purling and twirling. Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting. Delaying and straying and playing and spraying. Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing. Recoiling, turm oiling and toiling and boiling, And dashing and flishing and splashing and clashing; And so never ending, but always descending, Sounds and motions for ever and ever are blending. All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar ; — And this way the water comes down at Lodore. Robert Southet, 236 READINGS AND RECITALS. RAIN ON THE ROOP. [A vigorous action of the imagination will do much toward suggest, ing the proper form of expression.] When the humid showers gather over all the starry spheres, And the melancholy darkness gently weeps in rainy tears, 'Tis a joy to press the pillow of a cottage chamber bed. And listen to the patter of the soft rain overhead. Every tinkle on the shingles has an echo in the heart. And a thousand dreary fancies into busy being start j And a thousand recollections weave their bright hues into woof. As I listen to the patter of the soft rain on the roof. There in fancy comes my mother, as she used to years agone, To survey the infant sleepers ere she left them till the dawn. I can see her bending o'er me, as I listen to the strain Which is played upon the shingles by the patter of the rain. Then my little seraph sister, with her wings and waving hair, And her bright-eyed, cherub brother — a serene, angelic pair — - Glide around my wakeful pillow with their praise or mild reproof, As I listen to the murmur of the soft rain on the roof. And another comes to thrill me with her eyes' delicious blue. [ forget, as gazing on her, that her heart was all untrue : £ remember that I loved her as I ne'er may love again. And my heart's quick pulses vibrate to the patter of the rain. There is naught in art's bravuras that can work with such a spell In the spirit's pure, deep fountains, whence the holy passions swell. As that melody of nature — that subdued, subduing strain Which is played upon the shingles by the^patter of the rain ! CoATES Kinney. ORATOR PUFF. [The " two tones" should be clearly brought out.] Mr. Orator Puff had two tones in his voice. The one gqueaking thus^ and the other down SO; In each sentence he uttered he gave you your choice. For one half was B alt, and the rest G below. O, Orator Putf, One voice for an orator's surely enough 1 READINGS AND RECITALS. 237 But he still talked away, 'spite of coughs and of frowns. So distracting all ears with his ups and his downs. That a wag once, on hearing the orator say, — " My voice is for war," asked him,—" Which of them, pray ?" O, Orator Puff, One voice for an orator's surely enough ! Reeling homeward one evening, top-heavy with gin. And rehearsing his speech on the weight of the crown, He tripped near a sawpit, and tumbled right in, " Sinkingy«K(/," the last words as his noddle came down. _ O, Orator Puff, One voice for an orator's surely enough ! " Oh ! save I" he exclaimed, in his he-and-she tones, " Help me out I help me out 1 I have broken my boii^s !" " Help you out !" said a Paddy, who passed — " what a bother I Why, there's two of you there; can't you help one another?" O, Orator Puff, One voice for an orator's surely enough ! Ti-ioMAs Moore. THE QUIET STREETo [Affording opportunity for many varieties of the calling voice.'\ There is enjoyment in the pathless woods, The silent valleys yield a tnnquil treat. Thus thought I as I moved with all my goods To an apartment in a quiet street. No thoroughfare allured the busy throng; One end was finished off with railings neat; No public vehicles would pass along; It formed a cul-de-sac — this quiet street. I took possession of the second floor, A two-pair front — not elegant, but neat; What could a peaceful poet wish for more, Than humble lodgings in a quiet street? I wooed the Muse one sunny afternoon, I'd pen and ink and everything complete, Prepared to write a sonnet to the moon,^ Fancy grows vigorous in a quiet street. 238 i READINGS AND RECITALS. " Hail, Luna!" — But what is that? A distant sound Appears my auditory sense to greet; It cannot be — " Hail, Luna!" — I'll be bound. An organ's got into this quiet street. No matter, — 'twill be over very soon ; There's a policeman somewhere on the beat. Hark ! — there's a trumpet, sadly out of tune. Waking the echoes of this quiet street. " Partant pour la Syril" the organ plays; And now a voice more powerful than sweet Hoarsely invokes the "Light of Other Days"— A ballad-singer's got into the street. The bands begin a Polka — sounds increase — ■ " S>^kund ediskun — Rooshians in retreat" " Hail, Luna !" — no, not that. — Hi, there, police. Is this permitted in a quiet street ? Silence your brazen throats, you green-baize band; Avaunt, you trafficker in feline meat; You organ-grinder, hold your impious hand. Nor dare to desecrate this quiet street. " Where the bright fountain, sparkling, never ceases Its gush of limpid mubic," — " IVa -ter — creeses V " There let me linger, stretched beneath the trees, Tracing in air fantastic" — "Imageesf" " What varied dreams tlie vagrant fancy hatches, A playful Leda with her Jove-bom" — "A/atchet -f'' " She opens her treasure-cells, like Portia's caskets. And bids me choose her" — "Baskets, any baskets !" " In thoughts so bright the aching sense they blind. In their own lustrous languor" — -"Knives to grind P* "Visions like those the Interpreter, of Bunyan's, Displayed to Mercy and young Matthew" — "Onions F' " There is a spell that none can chase away. From scenes once visited by" [Sing.] "Old Dog Tray T'' "There is a charm whose power must ever blend The past and present in its" — " Chairs to mendt" " Still Pan and Syrinx wander thro' the grove?, Still Zephyr moves" — " Shavings for your stoz'es P' "And still unbanished falters on the ear," — "Any beer t A-n-y B~e-e-r ."' KBAVINGS AND RECIT.t£.S. 233 " Aye, and forever, while this planet rolls, To its sphere-music" — "Mackerel or Soles J" " While crushed Enceladus in torment groans Beneath his Etna shrieking" — " Stones, hearthstones P' " While laves the tideless sea the glittering strand Of Grecia" — [Sing.] " ' Tis hard to give the hand I" " The spot they visited is holy ground, And echo answers" — [Sing.] " Bobbing all around T' " Hail, 'Luna.V— "Muffins r—" Goddess of the Night!" " Charcoal f" — " Thou silver orb !" — Let me retreat ; Another line I'll not attempt to write : This very day I'll leave this quiet stfeet. LITTLE JIM. [Picture the scene — use care in the descriptive parts — impersonate.] The cottage was a thatched one, the outside old and mean. But all within that little cot was wondrous neat and clean ; The night was dark and stormy, the wind was howling wild. As a patient mother sat beside the deathbed of her child : A little worn-out creature, his once bright eyes grown dim : It was a. collier's wife and child, they called him Little Jim. And oh ! to see the briny tears fast hurrying down her cheek. As she offered up the prayer, in thought, she was afraid to speak Lest she might waken one she loved far better than her life ; For she had all a mother's heart, had that poor collier's wife. With hands uplifted, see, she kneels beside the sufferer's bed. And prays that He would spare her boy, and take herself instead. She gets her answer from the child: soft fall the words from him, " Mother, the angels do so smile, and beckon little Jim, T have no pain, dear mother, now, but O ! I am so dry; Just moisten poor Jim's lips again, and, mother, don't you cry." With gentle, trembling haste she held the liquid to his lip; He smiled to thank her, as he took each little, tiny sip. " Tell father, when he comes from work, I said good-night to him. And, mother, now I'll go to sleep." Alas ! poor little Jim ! She knew that he was dying; that the child she loved so dear, Had uttered the last words she might ever hope to hear: The cottage door is opened, the collier's step is heard. The father and the mother meet, yet neither speak i word. 240 READINGS AND RECITALS. He felt that all was over ; he knew his child was dead ; He took the candle in his hand and walked toward the bed ; His quivering lips gave token of the grief he'd fain conceal. And see, his wife has joined him — the stricken couple kneel : With hearts bowed down by sadness, they humbly ask of Him, In heaven once more to meet again their own poor little Jim. THE BELLS. f Excellent for vocal culture. The second line of each stanza is an index showing how it should be read. Be true to the spirit of the selection, and pay great attention to bringing out the full power of each word. Many repetitions in the piece have been omitted, believ- ing that it would be of advantage to the general reader. ] Hear the sledges with the bells. Silver bells ! What a world of merriment their melody foretells I How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle. In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time. In a sort of Runic rhyme. To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells. From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. Hear the mellow wedding bells, Golden bells ! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells t Through the balmy air of night. How they ring out their delight From the molten golden notes, And all in tune. What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle dove, that listens, while she gloats On the moon I Oh ! from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells, How it swells 1 How it dwells On the future ! — how it tells Of the rapture that impels READINGS AND RECITALS. 24* To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells. To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells I Hear the loud alarum bells, Brazen bells ! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells I In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright I Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, . Out of tune. In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire. Leaping higher, higher, higher. With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor Now — now to sit, or never. By the side of the pale-faced moon. Oh! the bells! What a tale their terror tells Of despair! How they clang, and clash, and roar I What a horrid outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet tlie ear it fully knows. By the twanging And the clanging. How the danger ebbs and flows; Yet the ear distinctly tells. In the jangling And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, Bj ^he sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bellsy In the clamor and the clangor of the bells ! Hear the tolling of the bells. Iron bells ! What a world of solemn thought their monody compelsl In the silence of the night How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone I For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people — ah! the people f They that dwell up in the steeple. All along. 242 READINGS AJVU RECITALS. And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone. Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone : They are neither man nor woman. They are neither brute nor human; They are ghouls ; And their king it is who tolls And he rolls A paean from the bells ! And his merry bosom swells With the psean of the bells I And he dances, and he yells; Keeping time, In a sort of Runic rhyme. To the psean of the bells. Keeping time As he knells. In a happy Runic rhyme. To the rolling of the bells. To the tolling of the bells, To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. Edgar A. Pob. SAMUEL SHORT'S SUCCESS. [The following alliterative exercise, aside from its novel character, will afford opportunity for practice in difflcult articulation.] Shrewd Simon Short sewed shoes. Seventeen summers' speeding storms, succeeding sunshine, successively saw Simon's small shabby shop standing staunch, saw Simon's self-same sign still swinging, silently specifying : " Simon Short, Smithfield's sole surviving shoemaker. Shoes sewed, soled superfinely. " Simon's spry sedulous spouse, Sally Short, sewed shirts, stitched sheets, stuffed sofas. Simon's six stout sturdy sons, — Seth, Samuel, Stephen, Saul, Shadrach, Silas — sold sundries. Sober Seth sold sugar, starch, spices; Simple Sam sold saddles, stirrups, screws; Sagacious Stephen sold silks, satins, shawls; Skep- tical Saul sold silver salvers, silver spoons; Selfish Shadrach sold shoe strings, soaps, saws, skates; Slack Silas sold Sally Short's stuffed sofas. Some seven summers since, Simon's second son, Simuel, READINGS AND RECITALS. 243 saw Sophia Sophronia Spriggs somewhere. Sweet, sen- sible, smart Sophia Sophronia Spriggs. Sam soon showed sti-ange symptoms. Sam seldom stayed storing, selling saddles. Sam sighed sorrowfully, sought Sophia Sophro- nia's society, sang several serenades slily. Simon stormed, scolded severely, said Sam seemed so silly, singing such shameful, senseless songs. "Strange Sam should slight such splendid summer sales," said Simon. "Strutting spendthrift! shatter- brained simpleton !" "Softly, softly, sire," said Sally; "Sam's smitten — Sam's spied sweetheart." " Sentimental schoolboy !" snarled Simon ; " Smitten ! Stop such stuff!" Simon sent Sally's snuffbox spinning, seizing Sally's scissors, smashed Sally's spectacles, scattering several spools. " Sneaking scoundrel ! Sam's sliocking silliness shall surcease!" Scowling Simon stopped speaking, start- ing swiftly shopward. Sally sighed sadly. Summoning Sam, she spoke sweet sympathy. "Sam," said she, "sire seems singularly snappy: so, sonny, stop strolling sidewalks, stop smoking segars, spending specie superfluously; stop sprucing so; stof. singing serenades — stop short: sell saddles, sonny; sell saddles sensibly; see Sophia Sophronia Spriggs soon; she's sprightly, she's staple, so solicit, sure; so secure Sophia speedily, Sam." " So soon ; so soon ?" said Sam, standing stock still. "So soon! surely," said Sally, smiling, "specially since sire shows such spirit." So Sam, somewhat scared, sauntered slowly, shaking stupendously. Sam soliloquises: "Sophia Sophronia Spriggs Short — Sophia Sophronia Short, Samuel Short's spouse — sounds splendid! Suppose she should say — she sha'n't J'-' Soon Sam spied Sophia starching shirts, singing softly. Seemg Sam she stopped starching; saluted Sam smilingly ; Sam stammered shockingly. " Sp-sp-splendid summer season, Sophia." "Somewhat sultry," suggested Sophia. "Sar-sartin, Sophia," said Sam. (Silence seventeen seconds.) 244 READINGS AND RECITALS. " Selling saddles still, Sam?" " Sar-sar-sartin," said Sam, starting suddenly. "Sea- son's somewhat soporific," said Sam, stealthily staunching streaming sweat, shaking sensibly. "Sartin," said Sophia, smiling significantly. "Sip some sweet sherbet, Sam." (Silence sixty seconds.) " Sire shot sixty sheldrakes, Saturday," said Sophia. "Sixty? sho!" said Sam. (Silence seventy-seven sec- onds.) "See sister Susan's sunflowers," said Sophia, sociably scattering such stiff silence. Sophia's sprightly sauciness stimulated Sam strangely: so Sam suddenly spoke sentimentally: "Sophia, Susan's sutiflowers seem saying, ' Samuel Short, Sophia Sophronia Spriggs, stroll serenely, seek some sequestered spot, some sylvan shade. Sparkling spring shall sing soul-soothing strains; sweet songsters shall silence secret sighing; super- angelic sylphs shall — ' " Sophia snickered : so Sam stopped. "Sophia," said Sam, solemnly. "Sam," said So'phia. " Sophia, stop smiling. Sam Short's sincere. Sam's seeking some sweet spouse, Sophia." " Speak, Sophia, speak 1 Such suspense speculates sor- row." " Seek sire, Sara; seek sire." So Sam sought sire Spriggs. Sire Spriggs said, "Sartin." OLD TIMES AND NEW. [Let the characters be well drawn and Warren's amazement vel) depicted.] 'Twas in my easy chair at home. About a week ago, I sat and puffed my lifjht cigar. As usual, you must know. I mused upon the Pilgrim flock, "Whose luck it was to land Upon almost the only Rock Among the Tlymouth sand. READINGS AND RECITALS, '145 In my mind's eye, I saw them leare Their weather-ljeaten bark — Before them spread the wintry wilds, Behind, rolled Ocean dark. Alone that noble handful stood While savage foes lurked nigh— Their creed and watchword, " Trust in God," And " keep your powder dry." Imagination's pencil then That first stern winter painted, When more than half their number died. And stoutest spirits fainted, A tear unbidden filled one eye. My smoke had filled the other- One sees strange sights at such a time. Which quite the senses bother. I knew I was alone — but lo ! (Let him who dares, deride me); 1 loolced, and drawing up a chair, Down sat a man beside me. His dress was ancient, and his air Was somewhat strange and foreign; He civilly returned my stare, And said, " I'm Richard Warren. "You'll find my name among the list Of hero, sage and martyr, Who, ill the Mayflower's cabin, signed The first New England charter. " I could some curious facts impart- Perhaps, some wise suggestions— But ihen I'm bent on seeing sights. And running o'er with questions." " Ask on," said I , " I'll do my best To give you information, Whether of private men you ask. Or our renowned nation." Said he, "First tell me what is that In your compartment narrow. Which seems to dry my eyeballs up^ And scorch my very marrow." 246 READINGS AND RECITALS. His finger pointed to the grate ; Said I, " That's Lehigh coal. Dug from the earth," — he shook his head^ " It is, upon my soul 1" I then took up a bit of stick. One end as black as night. And rubbed it quick across the hearth. When, lo ! a sudden light 1 My guest drew back, uprolled his eyes. And strove his breath to catch ; " What necromancy's that ?" he cried. Quoth I, " A friction match." Upon a pipe just overhead I turned a little screw. When forth, with instantaneous flash. Three streams of lightning flew. Up rose my guest : " Now Heaven me save," Aloud he shouted; then, " O, what is that ?" " 'Tis gas," said I, "We call it hydrogen." Then forth into the fields we strolled ; A train came thundering by. Drawn by the snorting iron steed Swifter than eagles fly. Rumbled the wheels, the whistle shrieked. Far streamed the smoky cloud ; Echoed the hills, the valleys shook, The flying forest bowed. Down on his knees, with hand upraised In worship, Warren fell ; ** Great is the Lord our God," cried he; " He doeth all things well. "I've seen his chariots of fire. The horsemen, too, thereof; Oh may I ne'er forget his ire. Nor at his threatenings scoff." " Rise up, my friend, rise up," said I, " Your terrors all are vain. That was no chariot of the sky, 'Twas the New York mail train." READINGS AND RECITALS. 247 47 47 We stood within a chamber small- Men came the news to know From Worcester, Springfield and New York, Texas, and Mexico. It came — it went — silent and sure — He stared, smiled, burst out laughing ; •* What witchcraft's that ?" " It's what we call Magnetic telegraphing." And then we stepped into the street ; Said Warren, " What is that Which moves along across the way As smoothly as a cat ? " I mean the thing upon two legs. With feathers on its head — A monstrous hump below its waist Large as a feather-bed. " It has the gift of speech, I hear; But sure it can't be human 1" " My amiable friend," said I, " That's what we call a woman I" " A woman ! no — it cannot be," Sighed he, with voice that faltered r " I loved the women in my day, But oh 1 they're strangely altered." I showed him then a new machine For turning eggs to chiclH well, old comrade, true ; I say all well, for He knows best Who takes the young ones in His arms Before the sun goes to the west. The axe-man Death deals right and left. And flowers fall as well as oaks; And so — fair Annie blooms no more! And that's the matter with your folks. See, this long curl was kept for you ; And this white blossom from her breast ; And here — your sister Bessie wrote A letter, telling all the rest, Bear up, old friend." Nobody speaks; Only the old camp-raven croaks. And soldiers whisper : " Boys, be still ; There's some bad news from Granger's folks." He turns his back — the only foe That ever saw it — on this grief. And, as men will, keeps down the tears Kind Nature sends to Woe's relief. Then answers he, " Ah, Hal, I'll try; But in my throat there's something chokei. Because, you see, I've thought so long To count her in among our folks. I s'pose she must be happy now, But still I win keep thinking too, I could have kept all trouble off By being tender, kind, and true. But maybe not. She's safe up there, And, when His hand deals other strokes. She'll stand by Heaven's gate, I know. And wait to welcome in our folks." Ethel Lynn. 268 READINGS AND RECITALS. TELL ON HIS NATIVE HILLS. [An excellent opportunity is here afforded for gesture.] Oh, with what pride I used To walk these hills, and look up to my God, And bless him that the land was free ! 'Twas free — From end to end, from cliff to lake, 'twas free I Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks, And plow our valleys, without asking leave ! Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow In very presence of the regal sun ! How happy was it then ! I loved Its very storms. Yes, I have sat In my boat at night, when, midway o'er the lake, The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge The wind came roaring. I have sat and eyed The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head. And think I had no master save his own ! On yonder jutting cliff, o'ertaken there By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along. And, while gust followed gust more furiously. As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink, I have thought of other lands, whose storms Are summer-flaws to those of mine, and just Have wished me there — the thought that mine was free Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head, And cried in thraldom to that furious wind, Blow on I — this is the land of liberty ! Knowles. CHAELIB MACHREE. I^L-areful study will ennble the reader to decide how this may best be tendered. Let the spirits be liglit or depressed, as required by each passage. Frequent changes of style should be made throughout.] Come over, come over the river to me. If ye are my laddie, bold Charlie Machree. Here's Mary McPherson and Susy O'Linn, Who say ye're faint-hearted, and dare not plunge in. READINGS AND RECITALS. 269 But the dark rolling river, though deep as the sea, I know cannot scare you, nor keep you from me j For stout is your back and strong is your arm, And the heart in your bosom is faithful and warm. Come over, come over the river to me. If ye are my laddie, bold Charlie Machree. I see him, I see him. He's plunged in the tide. His strong arms are dashing the big waves aside. O the dark rolling water shoots swift as the sea. But blithe is the glance of his bonny blue e'e; His cheeks are like roses, two buds on a bough ; Who says ye're faint-hearted, my brave laddie, now. Ho, ho, foaming river, ye may roar as ye go, But ye canna bear Charlie to the dark loch below ! Come over, come over the river to me. My true-hearted laddie, my Charlie Machree. He's sinking, he's sinking, O what shall I do ! Strike out, Charlie, boldly, ten strokes and ye 're thro*. He's sinking, O Heaven ! Ne'er fenr, man, ne'er fear; I've a kiss for ye, Charlie, as soon as ye 're here ! He rises, I see him, — five strokes, Charlie, mair, — He's shaking the wet from his bonny brown hair ; He conquers the current, he gains on the sea, — Ho, where is the swimmer like Charlie Machree ! Come over the river, but once come to me. And I'll love you forever, dear Charlie Machree. He's sinking, he's gone, — O God, it is T, ''t is I, who have killed him — help, help — he must die. Help, help ! — ah, he rises, — strike out and ye're free. Ho, bravely done, Charlie ; once more now, for me 1 ^ow cKng to the rock, now give me your hand, — if e're safe, dearest Charlie, ye're safe on the land I 270 READINGS AND RECITALS. Come rest on my bosom, if there ye can sleep; I canna speak to ye ; I only can weep. Ye have crossed the wild river, ye've risked all for me. And I'll part from ye never, dear Charlie Machree ! William J. Hoppin. JOHN MAYNARD. [Enter into the spirit of the piece, and strive to paint the scene in strong colors. The calling voice should be used with great care.] 'Twas on Lake Erie's broad expanse, One bright midsummer day, The gallant steamer Ocean Queen Swept proudly on her way. Bright faces clustered on the deck, Or, leaning o'er the side, Watclied carelessly tlie feathery foam That flecked the rippling tide. Ah, who beneath that cloudless sky, That smiling bends serene. Could dream that danger, awful, vast. Impended o'er the scene — Could dream that tre an hour had sped. That frame of sturdy oak Would sink beneath the lake's blue waves. Blackened with fire and smoke? A seaman sought the captain's side, A moment whispered low ; The captain's swarthy face grew pale. He hurried down below. Alas, too late ! Though quick and sharp And clear his orders came. No human efforts could avail To quench th' insidious flame. The bad news quickly reached the deck. It sped from lip to lip. And ghastly faces everywhere Looked from the doomed ship. " Is there no hope — no chance of life?" A hundred lips implore ; "But one," the captain made reply, " To run the ship on shore." READINGS AND RECITALS. 271 A sailor, whose heroic soul That hour should yet reveal, — By name John Maynard, eastern bom,^ Stood calmly at the wheel. " Head her southeast !" the captain shouts Above the smothered roar, — - " Head her southeast without delay I Make for the nearest shore!" No terror pales the helmsman's cheek, Or clouds his dauntless eye. As in a sailor's measured tone His voice responds, "Ay, Ay!" Three hundred souls, — the steamer's freight, — Crowd forward wild wilh fear, While at the stern the dreadful flames Above the deck appear. John Maynard watched the nearing flames. But still, with steady hand. He grasped the wheel, and steadfastly He steered the ship to land. "John Maynard," with an anxious voice The captain cries once more, " Stand by the wheel five minutes yet. And we will reach the shore." Through flames and smoke that dauntlerf heant Responded firmly, still Unawed, though face to face with death, " With God's good help I will!" The flames approach with giant strides. They scorch his hands and brow; One arm disabled seeks his side, Ah, he is conquered now ! But no, his teeth are firmly set, He crushes down the pain,^ His knee upon the stanchion pressed. He guides the ship again. One moment yet ! one moment yet ! - Brave heart, thy task is o'er ! The pebbles grate beneath the keel. The steamer touches shore. Three hundred grateful voices rise In praise to God, that He Hath saved them from the fearful fire. And from th' ingulfing sea. 272 READINGS AND RECITALS. But where is he, that helmsman bold ? The captain saw him reel — His nerveless hands released their task, He sunk beside the wheel. The wave received his lifeless corpse, Blackened with smoke and fire. God rest him 1 Hero never had A nobler funeral pyre 1 BUGLE SONG. [Play upon the words and bring out their full expression. Employ the calling voice in the last lines of each stanza, and let it die away at the close.] The splendor falls on castle walls, And snowy summits old in story; The long light shakes across the lakes. And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow; set the wild echoes flying; Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear. And thinner, clearer, farther going ; O sweet and far, from cliff and scar, The horns of Elf-land faintly blowing! Blow; let us hear the purple glens replying; Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. III. O love, they die in yon rich sky. They faint on field, on hill, on river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul. And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow ; set the wild echoes flying. And answer, echoes, answer dying, dying, dying. Tennyson. HEADINGS AND RECITALS. 273 SONG OP THE GREEKS (1822). [Full force, with spirit and energy.] Again to the battle, Achaians I Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance ; Our land — the first garden of Liberty's tree — It has been, and &\\3\S.yet be, the land of the free : For the cross of our faith is replanted, TJie pale dying crescent is daunted, And we march that the footprints of Mahomet's slaves May be washed out in blood from our forefathers' graves. Their spirits are hovering o'er us. And the sword shall to glory restore us. Ah ! what though no succor advances. Nor Christendom's chivalrous lances Are stretched in our aid? Be the combat our own ! And we'll perish or conquer more proudly alone ; For we've sworn by our country's assaulters, Ky the virgins they've dragged from our altars. By our massacred patriots, our children in chains. By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins. That, living, we will he victorious, Or that, dying, our deaths shall be glorious. A breath of submission we breathe not: The sword we have drawn we will sheathe not! Tts scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid. And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade. E irlh may hide, waves engulf, fire »;onsume us; But they shall not to slavery doom us : If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves : But we've smote them already with fire on tlie waves^ And new triumphs on land axe before us; To the charge ! Heaven's banner is o'er us. This day shall ye blush for its story. Or brighten your lives with its glory? — Our women — O, say, shall they shriek in despair. Or embrace us from conquest, with wreaths in their hair? Accursed may his memory blacken, If a coward there be that would slacken Till we've trampled the turban, and shown ourselves worth Being sprung from and named for, the godlike of earth I Strike home! and the world shall revere us A.S heroes descended firom heroes. I8 274 READINGS AND RECITALS. Old Greece lightens up with emotion 1 Her inlands, her isles of the ocean. Fanes rebuilt, and fair towns, shall with jubilee ring. And the Nine shall new hallow their Helicon's spring. Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness. That were cold and extinguished in sadness ; Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white waving arms. Singing joy to the brave that delivered their charms, — Wlien the blood of yon Musselman cravens Uhall have crimsoned the beaks of our ravens ! Campbell. AENOLD •WlNKBIJaBD. [This story of the hero-rasrtyr of the battle of Sempach, in the fourteenth century, should be told in an animated manner, strongly bringing out all the points ] " Make way for liberty!" he cried— Made way for liberty, and died I In arms the Austrian phalanx stood, A living wall, a human wood; Impregnable their front appears. All horrent with projected spears. Opposed to these, a hovering band Contended for their fatherland. Peasants, whose new-found strength ha>f brob* From manly necks the ignoble yoke ; Marshaled once more at freedom's call. They came to conquer — or to fall. And now the work of life and death Hung on the passing of a breath ; The fire of conflict burned within; The battle trembled to begin : Yet, while the Austrians held their ground, Point for assault was nowhere found ; Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed. The unbroken line of lances blazed; That line 't were suicide to meet. And perish at their tyrants' feet. How could they rest within their graves. To leave their homes the haunts of slaves ? Woald they not feel their children tread. With clanking chains, above their head ? READINGS AND RF.CITALS. 275 It must not be : this day, this hour, Annihilates the invader's power 1 All Switzerland is in the field — She will not fly; she cannot yield; She must not fall ; her better fale Here gives her an immortal date. Few were the numbers she could boast. But every freeman was a host. And felt as 't were a secret known That one should turn the scale alone. While each unto himself was he Qa whose sole arm hung victory. It did depend on one, indeed ; Behold him — Arnold Winlcelried I There sounds not to the trump of Fame The echo of a nobler name. Unmarked, he stood amid the throng. In rumination deep and long, Till you might see, with sudden grace. The very thought come o'er his face; And, by the motion of his form. Anticipate the bursting storm ; And, by the uplifting of his brow. Tell where the bolt would strike, and how. But 't was no sooner thought than done— The field was in a moment won ! " Make way for liberty!" he cried. Then ran, with arms extended wide. As if his dearest friend to clasp; Ten spears he swept within his grasp. " Make way for liljerty 1" he cried ; Their keen points crossed from side to side; He bowed among them like a tree, And thus made way for liberty. Swift to the breach his comrades fly— " Make way for liberty !" they cry. And through the Austrian phalanx dart. As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart; While, instantaneous as his fall. Rout, ruin, panic seized them all. An earthquake could not overthrow A city with a surer blow. Thus Switzerland again was free — Thus death made way for liberty. James Montgomeb v. 276 READINGS AND RECITALS. THE PRISONER OP CHILLON. [FraiKjois de Bonnivard, a French writer and politician, bom 1496, died 1570, was arrested and imprisoned in the Castle of Chillon in 1530, on account of his having espoused the cause of the Republic against the Dul And the mingling of their voices Made a harmony profound, Till the quiet street of Chestnut Was all turbulent with sound. •' Will they do it ?" " Dare they do it ?" " Who is speaking?" " What's the news ?" " What of Adams ?" " What of Sherman ?" " Oh ! God grant they won't refuse ;" " Make some way there !" " Let me nearer 1" "I am stifling!" "Stifle, then! When a nation's life's at hazard. We've no time to think of men." So they surged against the State-House, While all solemnly inside Sat the Continental Congress, Truth and reason for their guide, O'er a simple scroll debating, Which, tliough simple it might be, Yet should shake the cliffs of England With the thunders of the free. So Ihey beat against the portal, Man and woman, maid and child; And the July sun in heaven On the scene looked down and smiled. The same sun that saw the Spartan Shed his patriot blood in vain. Now beheld the soul of freedom. All unconquered rise again. Far aloft in that high steeple Sat the bellman, old and gray; He was weary of the tyrant And his iron-sceptred sway. So he sat, with one hand ready On the clapper of the bell, When his eye could catch the signal. The long-expected news to tell. See ! see ! the dense crowd quivers Through all its lengthy line. As the boy beside the portal I^ooks forth to give the sign; With his little hands uplifted. Breezes dallying with his hair, Hark ! with deep, clear intonation Breaks his young voice on the air. 340 READINGS AND RECITALS. Hushed tbe people's swelling murmur, As the boy cries joyously I Ring !" he shouts, " ring ! grandpapa, Rng ! oh, ring for Liberty !" Quickly at the given signal The old bellman lifts his hand. Forth he sends the good news, making Iron music through the land. How they shouted ! what rejoicing ! How the old bell shoolc the air, Till the clang of freedom ruffled The calmly gliding Delaware. How the bonfires and the torches Lighted up the night's repose. And from flames, like fabled Phoenix^ Our glorious liberty arose. That old State-House bell is silent. Hushed is now its clamorous tongue j But the spirit it awakened Still is living— ever young; And when we greet the smiling sunlight^ On the Fourth of each July, We will ne'er lorget the bellman, Who, betwixt the earth and sky. Rang out loudly " Independence," Which, please God, shall never die. THE MONTH OF MAHS. [October.] I would not die in May : When orchards drift with bloom of white, like billows on the deep. And whispers from the lilac bush across my senses sweep, T li.it 'mind me of a girl I knew, when life was always May, Who filled my nights with starry hopes that faded out by day,— \\ hen time is full of wedding days, and nests of robins brim, Till overflows their wickei sides llie old familiar hymn. The window brightens like an eye, the cottage door swings wide, The boys come homeward one by one, and bring a smiling bride. The fire-fly shows her signal light, the partridge beats his drum. And all tbe world gives promise of something sweet to come. Ah ! who would die on such a day ? Ah 1 who would die in May ? READINGS AND RECITALS. 341 I would not die in June : When, looking up with faces quaint, the pansies grace the sod; And, looking down, the willows see their doubles in the flood. When, blessing God, we breathe again the roses in the air; And lilies light the fields along with their immortal wear. As once they lit the sermon of the Saviour on the mount, And glorified the story they evermore recount. Through pastures green the flocks of God go trooping one by one, And turn their golden fleeces round to dry them in the sun. When, calm as Galilee, the grain is rippling in the wind. And nothing dying anywhere but something that i'^ sinned. Ah 1 who would die in life's own noon ? Ah! who would die in June? But when October comes. And poplars drift their leafage down in flakes of gold below. And beeches burn like twilight fires, that used to tell of snow; And maples bursting into flame, set all the hills afire. And summer, from the evergreens, sees paradise draw nigher. A thousand sunsets all at once distill like Hermon's dew. And linger on the waiting woods, and stnin them through and thi jugh. As if all earth had blossomed out one grand Corinthian flower. To crown Time's graceful capital for just one gorgeous hour! They strike their colors to the king of all the stately throng — - He comes in pomp, October! To him all times belong: The frost is on his sandals, but the flush is on his cheeks, September sheaves are in his arms; June voices, when he speaks; The elms lit bravely like a torch within a Grecian hand, — See where they light the monarch on through all the splendid land I The sun puts on a human look behind the hazy fold, The mid-year moon of silver is stuck anew in gold. In honor of the very day that Moics saw of old ; For in the burning bush that blazed as quenchless as a sword, The Old Lieutenant first beheld October and the Lord! Ah ! then October let it be, I'll claim my dying day for thee I Benjamin F. Taylor. JOHN AND TIBBIE'S DISPUTE. [A Scottish Impersonation.] John Davidson and Tibbie, his wife. Sat toastin' their taes ae nicht, When something starlit in the fluir And blinkit by their sicht. 34^2 KEADINGS AND RECITALS. " Guidwife," quoth John, •' did you see that moose? Whar sorra was the cat ?" •• A moose ?" " Ay, a moose." " Na, na, Guidman,— It wasna a moose, 'twas a rat." " Ow, ow, Guidwife, to think ye've been Sae lang about the hoose. An' no to ken a moose frae a rat ! Yon wasna a rati 'twas a moose !" " I've seen mair mice than you, Guidman- An' what think ye o' that ? Sae baud your tongue an' say nae mair— I tell ye, it was a rat." '• Me baud my tongue for you, Guidwife I I'll be mester o' this hoose — I saw 't as plain as een could see 't. An' I tell ye, it was a moose !" " If you're the mester o' the hoose. It's I'm the mistress o' 't; An' I ken best what's in the hoose — Sae I tell ye, it was a rat." ' Weel, weel, Guidwife, gae mak' the brose, An' ca' it what ye please." So up she rose, and made the brose, While John sat toastin' his taes. They supit, and supit, and supit the brose. And aye their lips play'd smack ; They supit, and supit, and supit the brose. Till their lugs began to crack. " Sic fules we were to fa' oot, Guidwife, Aboot a moose." " A what ? It's a lee ye tell, an' I say again It wasna a moose, 'twas a rat 1" ' Wad ye ca' me a leear to my very face? My faith, but ye craw croose I I tell ye, Tib, I never will bear 't — 'Twas amoosel" '"Twasaratl" "'Twas a rooosel" READINGS AND RECITALS. 343 343 Wi' her spoon she struck him ower the pow' — " Ye dour' auld doit,' tak' that — Gae to your bed, ye cankered sumph* — 'Twas a rat !" " Twas a moose I" " 'Twas a rat I" She sent the brose-caup at his heels, As he hirpled^ ben the hoose; Yet he shooed cot his head as he steeliil' the door. And cried, " 'Twas a moose ! 'twas a moosel" But, when the carle' was fast asleep, phe paid him back for that. And roar'd into his sleeping lug,* " 'Twas a rat 1 'twas a rat 1 'twas a rati" The de'il be wi' me if I think It was a beast at a' 1 — Neist mornin', as she sweepit the fluir. She faund wee Johnny's ba' 1 THE MAIDEN MARTYR. [A touching incident in the history of the Scotch Covenanters.] A troop of soldiers waited at the door, A crowd of people gathered in the street. Aloof a little from them bared sabres gleamed And flashed into their faces. Then the door Was opened, and two women meekly stepped Into the sunshine of the sweet May-noon, Out of the prison. One was weak and old, A woman full of tears and full of woes ; The other was a maiden in her morn, And they were one in name, and one in faith. Mother and daughter in the bond of Christ, That bound them closer than the ties of blood. The troop moved on ; and down the sunny street The people followed, ever falling back As in their faces flashed the naked blades. But in the midst the women simply went As if they two were walking, side by side. Up to God's house on some still Sabbath mom, •Head. 2 Stubborn. »Dolt. < Ill-natured fool 'Limped. 'Shut 'Man. 8 Ear. "44 44 READmOS AND RECITALS. Only they were not clad for Sabbath day, But as they went about their daily tasks ; They went to prison and they went to death Upon their Master's service. On the shore The troopers halted ; all the shining sands Lay bare and glistening ; for the tide had Drawn back to its farthest margin's weedy mark. And each succeeding wave, with fiash and curve, That seemed to mock the sabres on the shore. Drew nearer by a hairbreadth. " It will lie A long day's work," murmured those murderous men As they slacked rein. The leader of the troops Dismounted, and the people passing near Then heard the pardon offered, with the oath Renouncing and adjuring part with all The persecuted, covenanted fold. But both refused the oath : " Because," they said, " Unless with Christ's dear servants we have part. We have no part with Him." On this they took The elder Margaret, and led her out Over the sliding sands, the weedy sludge. The pebbly shoals, far out, and fastened her Unto the farthest stake, already reached By every rising wave, and left her there; And as the waves crept about her feet, she prayed That He would firm uphold her in their midst Who holds them in the hollow of His hand. The tide flowed in. And up and down the shore There paced the Provost and the Laird of Lag- Grim Grierson — with Windram and with Graham; And the rude soldiers, jesting with coarse oaths. As in the midst the maiden meekly stood Waiting her doom delayed, said she would Turn before the tide — seek refuge in their arms From the chill waves. But ever to her lips There came the wondrous words of life and peace i " If God be for us, who can be against ?" " Who shall divide us from the love of Christ ?" " Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature.'' From the crowd A woman's voice cried a very bitter cry — ■ " O, Margaret ! My bonnie, bonnie Margaret ! Gie in, gie in, my bairnie, dinna ye drown, Gie in, and tak' the oath I" READINGS AND RECITALS. 34& The tide flowed in ; And so wore on the sunny afternoon ; And every fire went out upon the hearth, And not a meal was tasted in the town that day. And still the tide was flowing in ; Her mother's voice yet sounding in her ear. They turned young Margaret's face towards the sea, Where something while was floating — something White as the sea-mew that sits upon the wave ; But as she looked it sank ; then showed again ; Then disappeared; and round the shore And stake the tide stood ankle- deep. Then Grierson With cursing vowed that he would wait No more, and to the stake the soldier led her Down, and lied her hands; and round her Slender waist too roughly cast the rope, for Windram came and loosed it while he whispered In her ear, " Come take the test, and ye are free," And one cried, " Margaret, say but ' God save The King!' " "God save the King of His great grace," She answered, but the oath she would not take. And still the tide flowed in, ^nd drove the people back and silenced them. The tide flowed in, and rising to her knees, She sang the psalm, " To Thee I lift my soul;" The tide flowed in, and rising to her waist, ' To Thee, my God, I lift my soul," she sang. The tide flowed in, and rising to her throat, She sang no more, but lifted up her face, — And there was glory over all the sky. And there was glory over all the sea — A flood of glory, — and the lifted face Swam in it till it bowed beneath the flood. And Scotland's Maiden Martyr went to God. Baltimore Elocutionist. THE RELIEF OP LUCKNOW. [Intense description. Picture the scene, and give expression to the varying emotions. Employ the Scottish accent.] Oh, that last day in Lucknow fort ! We knew that it was the last, That the enemy's mines had crept surely in. And the end was coming fast. 34646 READINGS AND RECITALS. To yield to that foe meant worse than death. And the men and we all worked on ; It was one day more of smoke and roar. And then it would all be done. There was one of us, a corporal's wife, A fair, young, gentle thing, Wasted with fever in the siege, And her mind was wandering. She lay on the ground, in her Scottish plaid, And I took her head on my knee ; "When my father comes hame frae the pleugh," she said, " Oh ! please then waken me." She slept like a child on her father's floor In the flecking of woodbine shade. When the house dog sprawls by the half-open door. And the mother's wheel is stayed. It was smoke, and roar, and powder stench. And hopeless waiting for death ; But the soldier's wife, like a full-tired child. Seemed scarce to draw her breath. I sank to sleep; and I had my dream Of an English village lane. And wall and garden — till a sudden scream Brought me back to the rear again. There Jessie Brown stood listening. And then a broad gladness broke All over her face, and she took my hand. And drew me near, and spoke : " The Hielanders ! O ! dinna ye hear The slogan far awa ? The McGregor's ? Ah! Ikenitweel; It is the grandest o' them a'. God bless the bonny Hielanders ! We're saved ! we're saved !" she cried ; And fell on her knees, and thanks to God Poured forth, like a full flood-tide. Along the battery line her cry Had fallen among the men. And they started ; for they were there to die; Was life so near them then ? READINGS AND RECITALS. 84T 4T They listened, for life; and the rattling fire Far off, and the far-off roar Were all, — and the colonel shook his head, And they turned to their guns once more. Then Jessie said, " The slogan's dune. But can ye no hear them, noo ? The Campbells are comin' 1 It's nae a dream, Our succors hae broken through ! " We heard the roar and rattle afar, But the pipers we could not hear; . So the men plied their work of hopeless war. And knew that the end was near. It was not long ere it must be heard,— A shrilling, ceaseless sound; It was no noise of the strife afar. Or the sappers under ground. It was the pipes of the Highlanders ! And now they played Auld Lang Syne,- It came to our men like the voice of God; And they shouted along the line. And they wept and shonk each other's hands. And the women sobbed in a crowd; And every one knelt down wheie we stood. And we all thanked God aloud. That happy day when we welcomed them in. Our men put Jessie first; And the General took her hand ; and cheers From the men like a volley burst. And the pipers' ribbons and tartan streamed. Marching round and round our line; And our joyful cheers were broken with tears. And the pipers played Auld Lang Syne. Robert Lowell. THE CLOWN'S STORY. [Simple narration, marked by pathos near the close.] Yes, that's my business, sir — a clown. The saw-dust ring is life to me. And spinning that old white hat by the crown Is a sort of second nature, you see. '.4*1 4*1 READINGS AND RECITALS. For thirty years I've been in the ring — Thirty years, and I'll be bound; This flight of time is a curious thing, And here, another season's 'round. No, nothing to do. Be seated, sir ; I'm fond of an hour's quiet chat; And what with show-life's bustle and stir It isn't a thing to be wondered at. We've been on the road four months to-day. The road, with its varied pleasure and strife ; And — beg your pardon, sir, what did you say?— How do I like my calling in life ? Well, 't isn't the easiest thing in the world — At least I haven't found it to be ; A man is tossed about and hurled Here and there, like a bottle at sea. But a fellow must live somehow, you know. And pick up his bread as best he can; And how could I do outside the show ? I think it would prove a difficult plan. Then, too, in spite of the hardship and strife. Of which, no doubt, it has its share. There's a certain charm about the life That steals upon me unaware. Why, sir, as soon as the winter's past. And I feel llie warmer breath of spring,— My pulses, even now, beat fast. To scent again the air of the ring I The canvas, sir, is the only place In which I feel at home, you see ; And a brownstune front, with Brussels and lace, Would be as bad as the Tombs for me 1 Singular, isn't it ? Yet I suppose Whatever the life a man has led. He learns to like it — the more when he knows That by it he gets his butter and bread. Always a clown ? Well, no sir, no ; I've done a little in every line — Was principal rider, years ago, But fell one night and injured my spine. READINGS AND RECITALS. 349 349 349 Performed on the bar for a season or more. And tumbled a while — till I hurt my hip; That left me always a little sore^ I could clear twelve horses once, like a whip I And then for a time I did the trapeze With Tom — the show bills called us "brothers," And 'twasn't, by Jove, much out of the way. Though we did have different fathers and mothers I 1 wish that some of these pious chaps. Who'd think it a sin to shake hands with me, Could have known poor Tom, and then, perhaps. They'd have, in tlie future, more charity. It happened that we were south that year, — The fever was raging bad, they said; And yet I had no thought of fear. Until I saw Tom lying dead 1 He seemed too young, too strong and brave. To be thus early stricken down ; But strength don't count against the grave ; So poor Tom went, and I turned clown. That's more than twenty years ago; And since that sad time — let me see — I've stuck with patience to the show, And done what seemed the best to me. I married, after poor Tom died. As good a girl, as kind and true. As ever pledged herself a bride, — I count that more than looks, don't you ? But she was beautiful as well. With such rich, glorious, golden hair, And eyes that held you like a spell, — Such eyes! — like that blue heaven there t Well, we were wed, and for a time Our lives seemed one long summer day — ■ As merry as a marriage chime," — I think that's what the stories say. But ah, how soon it ended, sir I The road and canvas — life to me — Proved all too rough and hard for her. She drooped beneath the weight, you see. 3.5S READINGS AND RECITALS. 1 watched her, heavy-hearted fail ; I tried to think she would not die; I saw her rounded cheek grow pale,— The lustre fade from out her eyej And then I knew all hope was past ; The days dragged by, with snail-like pace,^ Such days of anguish ! — till, at last, Death clasped her in his cold embrace. Since then the years have come and gone ; I've scarcely marked them as they fled; For from the day on which she died. It seemed as though time, too, were dead. My griefs, sometimes, have crushed me down. But the world, of course, knows naught of that j Who'd think of sorrow in a clown ? My business is to spin that hat ! I don't complain. The life I've led Has had its dark and sunny page; 'Twas Shakspeare, wasn't it ? who said That " all the world is but a stage." Well, that, I think, 's about my creed. And 't wouldn't much have changed the thing If Shakspeare had made the passage read That " all the world is but a ring." And so it is, sir! you and I Are only playing different parts; The Manager who rules on high I think will judge men by their hearts. I don't believe he'll even ask What their calling was down here ; But only if they bore their task, And kept a conscience straight and clear. So, when the season here is through. And I go to meet Him face to face. If he finds a heart that has tried to be true. Perhaps he'll give even the clown a place. Vandyke Brown, KEADINGS AND RECITALS. Zh\ 3Sl BHAMUS O'BRIEN. [The Bold Boy of Glingall.] Jist afther the war, in the year '98, As soon as the boys wor all scattered and bate, 'Twas the custom, whenever a pisant was got, To hang him by thrial — barrin' sich as was shot. There was thrial by jury goln' on by daylight. And the martial-law hangin' the lavins by night. It's them was hard times for an honest gossoon : If he missed in the judgcb — he'd meet a dragoon; An' whether the sodijers or judges gev sentence, The deil a much time they allowed for repentance. An' it's many's the fine boy was then on his keepin' Wid small share iv reslin', or atin', or sleepin'. An' because they loved Erin, an' scorned to sell it, A prey for the bloodhound, a mark for the bullet, — Unsheltered by night, and unrested by day. With the heath for their barrack, revenge for their pay; An' the bravest an' hardiest boy iv them all Was Shamus O'Brien, from the town iv Glingall. His limbs were well set, an' his body was light. An' the keen-fanged hound had not teeth half so white ; But his face was as pale as the face of the dead. And his cheek never warmed with the blush of the red ; An' for all that he wasn't an ugly young bye. For the divil himself couldn't blaze with his eye. So droll an' so wicked, so dark and so bright. Like a fire-flash that crosses the depth of the night! An' he was the best mower that ever has been, An' the illigantest hurler that ever was seen. An' his dancin' was sich tliat the men used to stare. An' the women turn crazy, he done it so quare ; An' by gorra, the whole world gev it into him there. An' it's he was the boy that was hard to be caught. An' it's often he run, an' it's often he fought. An' it's many the one can remember right well The quare things he done : an' it's often I heerd tell How he lathered the yeomen, himself agin' four. An' stretched the two strongest on old Galtimoro. But the fox must sleep sometimes, the wild deer must rest; And treachery prey on the blood of the best. Afther many a brave action of power and pride. An' many a hard night on the mountain's bleak side. An' a thousand great dangers and toils everpast. In the darkness of night he was taken at last. Now, Shamus, look back on the beautiful moon, For the door of the prison must close on you soon. S52 READINGS AND RECITALS. An' take your last look at her dim, lovely light. That falls on the mountain and valley this night; One look at the village, one look at the flood. An' one at the shelthering, far-distant wood; Farewell to the forest, farewell to the hill. An' farewell to the friends that will think of you still; Farewell to the pathern, the hurlin' an' wake, And farewell to the girl that would die for your sake I An' twelve sodgers brought him to Maryborough jail. An' tlie turnkey resaved him, refusin' all bail ; The fleet limbs wor chained, an' the sthrong hands wor bound, An' he laid down his length on the cowld prison ground. An' the dreams of his childhood kem over him there As gentle an' soft as the sweet summer air; An' happy remembrances crowding on ever. As fast as the foam-flakes dhrift down on the river, Bringing fresh to his heart merry days long gone by. Till the tears gathered heavy and thick in his eye. But the tears didn't fall, for the pride of his heart Would not suffer one drop down his pale cheek to start ; An' he-sprang to his feet in the dark prison cave. An' he swore with the fierceness that misery gave. By the hopes of the good, an' the cause of the brave. That when he was mouldering in the cold grave His enemies never should have it to boast His scorn of their vengeance one moment was lost; i His bosom might bleed, but his cheelc should be dry, For undaunted he lived, and undaunted he'd die. Well, as soon as a few weeks was over and gone. The terrible day iv the thrial kem on ; There was sich a crowd there was scarce room to stand, An' sodgers on guard, an' dhragoons sword in hand ; An' the court-house so full that the people were bothered. An' attorneys and criers on the point iv bein' smothered; An' counsellors almost gev over for dead, An' the jury sittin' up in their box overhead; An' the judge settled out so detarmined and big. With his gown on his back, and an illegant new wig; An' silence was called, an the minute it was said The court was as still as the heart of the dead. An' they heard but the openin' of one prison lock. An' Shamus O'Brien kem into the dock. For one minute he turned his eye round on the throng. An' he looked at the bars, so firm and so strong. An' he saw that he had not a hope nor a friend, A chance to escape, nor a word to defend ; An' he folded his arms as he stood there alone. As calm and as cold as a statue of stone ; And they read a big writin', a yard long at laste. READINGS AND RECITALS. 353 iS An Jim didn't understand it, nor mind it a taste; An' the judge took a big pinch iv snuff, and he sajrs, " Are you guilty or not, Jim O'Brien, av you plase ?" An' all held their breath in the silence of dhread. An' Shamus O'Brien made answer and said : " My lord, if you ask me, if in my life-time I thought any treason, or did any crime That should call to my cheek, as I stand alone here. The hot blush of shame or the coldness of fear. Though I stood by the grave to receive my death-blow, Before God and the world I would answer you, no I But if you would ask me, as I think it like. If in the rebellion I carried a pike, An' fought for ould Ireland from the first to the clost. An' shed the heart's blood of her bitterest foes, I answer you, yes ; and I tell you again. Though I stand here to perish, it 's my glory that then In her cause I was willing my veins should run dhry. An' that now for her sake I am ready to die." Then the silence was great, and the jury smiled bright. An' the judge wasn't sorry the job was made light; By my sowl, it 's himself was the crabbed ould chap. In a twinklin' he pulled on his ugly black cap. Then Shamus' mother in the crowd standin' by, Called out to the judge with a pitiful cry : " O judge ! darlin', don't, oh, don't say the word I The crathur is young, have mercy, my lord ; He was foolish, he didn't know what he was doin' You don't know him, my lord, — oh, don't give him to ruin. He's the kindliest crathur, the lendherest-hearted ; Don't part us forever, we that 's so long parted. Judge, mavourneen, forgive him, forgive him, my lord, An' God will forgive you — oh, don't say the wordl" That was the first minute that O'Brien was shaken. When he saw that he was not quite forgot or forsaken ; An' down his pale cheeks, at the word of his mother, The big tears wor runnin' fast, one afther th' other; An' two or three times he endeavored to spake. But the sthrong, manly voice used to falter and break ; But at last, by the strength of his high-mounting pride. He conquered and masthered his grief's swelling tide, " An'," says he, " mother, darlin', don't break your poor heart, For sooner or later, the dearest must part ; And God knows it's better than wandering in fear On the bleak, trackless mountain, among the wild deer, To lie in the grave, where the head, heart, and breast. From thought, labor, and sorrow forever shall rest. Then, mother, my darlin', don't cry any more, «3 854 READINGS AND RECITALS. Don't make me seem broken, in this, my last hour; For I H'ish, when my head 's lyin' undher the raven. No thrue man can say that I died like a craven !" Then towaids the judge Shamus bent dovirn his head. An' that minute the solemn death-sentince was said. The mornin'.was bright, and the mists rose on high. An' the lark whistled merrily in the clear sky; But why are the men standin' idle so late ? An' why do the crowds gather fast in the street ? What come they to talk of? what come they to see? An' why does the long rope hang from the cross-tree ? O Shamus O'Brien ! pray fervent and fast. May the saints take your soul, for this day is your last; Pray fast an' pray sthrong, for the moment is nigh, When, sthrong, proud, an' great as you are you must die. An' fasther an' fasther the crowd gathered there. Boys, horses, and gingerbread, just like a fair; An' whisky was sellin', an* cussamuck too, An' ould men and young women enjoying the view. An' ould Tim Mulvany, he med the remark, There wasn't sich a sight since the time of Noah's ark. An' be gorry, 't was thrue for him, for de'il sich a scruge, Sich divarshin and crowds, was known since the deluge, For thousands were gathered there, if there was one, Waitin' till such time as the hangin' 'd come on. At last they threw open the big prison gate, An' out came the sheriffs and sodgers in state. An' a cart in the middle, an' Shamus was in it. Not paler, but prouder than ever, that minute. An' as soon as the people saw Shamus O'Brien, Wid prayin' and blessin', and all the girls cryin', A wild wailm' sound kem on by degrees. Like the sound of the lonesome wind blowin' through trees. On, on to the gallows the sheriffs are gone. An' the cart an' the sodgers go steadily on ; An' at every side swellin' around of the cart, A wild, sorrowful sound, that id open your heart. Now under the gallows the cart takes its stand. An' the hangman gets up with the rope in his hand ; An' the priest, havin' blest him, goes down on the ground. An' Shamus O'Brien throws one last look around. Then the hangman drew near, an' the people grew still. Young faces turned sickly, and warm hearts turned chill ; An' tlie rope bein' ready, his neck was made bare, For the gripe iv the life-strangling cord to prepare; An' the good priest has left him, havin' said his last prayer. But the good priest done more, for his hands he unbound. And with one daring spring Jim has leaped to the ground; READINGS AND RECITALS. 351 Bang '. bang 1 go the carbines, and clash go the sabres ; He's not down ! he's alive still ! now stand to him, neighbors J Through the smoke and the horses he 's into the crowd, — By the heavens, he 's free! — than thunder more loud. By one shout from the people the heavens were shaken, — One shout that the dead of the world might awaken. The sodgers ran this way, the sheriffs ran that. And Father Malone lost his new Sunday hat ; To-night he'll be sleepin' in Aherloe Glin, And the de'il's in the dice if you catch him ag'in. Your swords they may glitter, your carbines go bang, But if you want hangin', it 's yourself you must hang. He has mounted his horse, and soon he will be, In America, darlint, the land of the free. Samuel Lover, BETSEY AND I ARE OUT. [The rustic character should be well drawn and sustained. C«>J»> cealed emotion should manifest itself slightly at the close.] Draw up the papers, lawyer, and make 'em good and stout. For things at home are cross-ways, and Betsey 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. " Wliat 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 Betsey, and Betsey has talked with me ; So, we've agreed together that we can't never agree ; N'lt that we've catched each other in any terrible crime— We've been gathering 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 Betsey, 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 mor; we arg'ed the question, the more we did'nt agree. S(66 READINGS AND RECITALS. 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 own opinion, and Betsey 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, But full for a week it lasted, and neither of us spoke ; — And the next was when I scolded because she broke a bowl ; And she said I was mean and stingy, and had'nt any soul. And so the thing kept workin', and all the self-same way; Always somethin' to arg'e, and somethin' sharp to say — And down on us come the neighbors, a couple o* dozen strong, And lent their kindest sarvice to help the thing along. And there have been days together, and many a weary week. When both of us were cross and spunky, and both too proud to speak ; And I have been thinkin' and thinkin', the whole of the summer and fall, If I can't live kind with a woman, why, then I won't at all. And so I have talked with Betsey, and Betsey has talked with me. And we have agreed together that we can't never agree ; And what is hers shall be hers, and what is mine shall be mine. And I'll put in the agreement, and take it to her to sign. Write on the paper, lawyer, the very first paragraph, Of all the farm and live-stock, she shall have her half — For she has helped to earn it, through many a weary day. And it's nothin' more than justice that Betsey has her pay. Give her the house and homestead — a man can thrive and roam. But women are wretched critters, unless they have a home ; And I have always determined, and never failed to say. That Betsey should never want a home, if I was taken away. There is a little hard money that's drawin' tolerable pay — A couple of hundred dollars laid by for a rainy day, Safe in the hands of good men, and easy to get at — Put in another clause there, and give her all cf that. T see you're smilin', sir, at my givin' her so much; Yes, divorce is cheap, sir, but I take no stock in such. True and fair I married her, when she was blithe and young. And Betsey was always good to me, exceptin' with her tongue. Once, when I was young as you, and not so smart, perhaps. For me she niittened a lawyer, and several other chaps ; And all of 'em was flustered, and fairly taken down. And I for a time was counted the luckiest m«.n in town. READINGS AND RECITALS- S5T (7 i1 il Once, when I had a fever — I won't forget it soon,— I was hot as a basted turkey, and crazy as a loon,— Never an hour went by me when she was out of sight- ■ She nursed me true and tender, and stuck to me day and night. And if ever a house was tidy, and ever a kitchen clean. Her house and kitchen was tidy as any I ever seen; And I don't complain of Betsey, or any of her acts, Exceptin' when we've quarreled, and told each other facts. So, draw up the paper, lawyer, and I'll go home to-night. And read the agreement to her and see if it's all right ; And then in the mornin' I'll sell to a tradin' man I know. And kiss the child that was left to us, and out in the world I'll go. And one thing put in the paper, that first to me didn't occur. That when I am dead at last she will bring me back to her. And lay me under the maple we planted years ago. When she and I were happy, before we quarreled so. And when she dies, I wish that she would be laid by me. And lyin' together in silence, perhaps we'll then agree ; And, if ever we meet in heaven, I wouldn't think it queer If we loved each other the better because we've quarreled here. W. M. Carleton, MINOT'S LEDGE. [Rcture the scene in the mind, and give it true expression.] Like spectral hounds across the sky The white clouds scud before the storm, And naked in the howling night The red-eyed lighthouse lifts its form. The waves with slippery fingers clutch The massive tower, and climb and fall. And muttering growl with baffled rage Their curses on the sturdy wall. Up in the lonely tower he sits. The keeper of the crimson light,'^ Silent and awe-struck does he hear The imprecations of the night. The white spray beats against the pane* Like some wet ghost that down the air Is hunted by a troop of fiends And seeks a shelter anywhere. 358 READINGS AND RECITALS, He prays aloud — the lonely man — For every soul that night at sea; But more than all for that brave boy Who used to gayly climb his knee, — Young Charlie with his chestnut hair And hazel eyes and laugliing lip, — " May heaven look down," the old man cries, " Upon my son, and on his ship." While thus with pious heart he prays, Far in the distance sounds a boom, — He pauses, and again there rings That sullen thunder through the room. A ship upon the shoals to-nisjht ! She cannot hold for one half-hour; But clear the ropes and grappling-hooks. And trust in the Almighty Power. On the drenched gallery he stands Striving to pierce the solid night; Across the sea the red-eye throws A steady crimson wake of light, And where it falls upon the waves He sees a human head float by. With long drenched curls of chestnut hair. And wild but fearless hazel eye. Out with the hooks ! One mighty fling! Adown the wind the long rope curls. Oh ! will it c.itch ? Ah, dread suspense I While the wild oce.in wilder whirls. A steady pull — It tightens now ! Oh, his old heart will burst with joy, As on the slippery rocks he pulls The breathing body of his boy! Still sweep the spectres through the sky. Still scud the clouds before the storm. Still naked in the howling night The red-eyed lighthouse lifts its form. Without, the world is wild with rage. Unkenneled demons are abroad; But with the father and the son Within, there is the peace of God. Fitz-James O'Brien. READINGS AND RECITALS. 359 THE LITTLE BLACK-EYED REBEL. [To be read in an earnest, sprightly manner. Avoid a rhytlimic Style.] A boy drove into the city, his wagon loaded down With food to feed the people of the British-governed town : And the little black-eyed rebel, so cunning and so sly. Was watching for his coming from the corner of her eye. His face tboked broad and honest, his hands were brown and tough. The clothes he wore upon him were homespun, coarse and rough. But one there was who watched him, who long time lingered nigh. And cast at him sweet glances from the corner of her eye. He drove up to the market, he waited in the line — _ His apples and potatoes were fresh and fair and fine ; But long and long he waited, and no one came to buy. Save the black-eyed rebel, watching from the corner of her eye. " Now who will buy my apples ?" he shouted long and loud; And " Who wants my potatoes?" he repeated to the crowd; But from all the people round him came no word of reply. Save the black-eyed rebel, answering from the corner of her eye. For she knew that 'neath the lining of the coat he wore that day Were long letters from the husbands and the fathers far away. Who were fighting for the freedom that they meant to gain or die ; And a tear like silver glistened in the corner of her eye. But the treasures — how to get them ? crept the question through her mind. Since keen enemies were watching for what prizes they might find; And she paused awhile and pondered, with a pretty little sigh; Then resolve crept through her features, and a shrewdness fired her eye. So she resolutely walked up to the wagon old and red ; " May I have a dozen apples for a kiss?" she sweetly said ; And the brown face flushed to scarlet, for the boy was somewhat shy. And he saw her laughing at him from the corner of her eye. " You may have them all for nothing, and more, if you want," quoth he; "I will have them, my good fellow, but can pay for them," said she; And she clambered on the wagon, minding not who all were by. With a laugh of reckle"'" 'omping in the corner of her eye. 360 READINGS AND RECITALS. Clinging round his brawny neck, she clasped her fingers white and small, And then whispered, " Quick ! the letters ! thrust them underneath my shawl I Carry back again this package, and be sure that you are spry 1" And she sweetly smiled upon him from the corner of her eye. Loud the motley crowd were laughing at the strange, ungirlish freak. And the boy was scared and panting, and so dashed he could not speak ; And, " Miss, / have good apples," a bolder lad did cry ; But she answered, " No, I thank you," from the corner of her eye. With the news from loved ones absent to the dear friends they would greet. Searching them who hungered for them, swift she glided through the street, '* There is nothing worth doing that it does not do to try," Thought the little black-eyed rebel from the corner of her eye. Will Carleton. THE SEMINOLE'S REPLY. [To be read with great determination and defiance. Employ Thorough and Final Stress.'\ Blaze, with your serried columns ! I will not bend the knee ! The shackles ne'er again shall bind The arm which now is free. I've mailed it with the thunder. When the tempest muttered low ; And where it falls, ye well may dread The lightning of its blow I I've scared ye in the city, I've scalped ye on the plain ; Ck), count your chosen where they fell Beneath my leaden rain ! I scorn your proffered treaty I The pale-face I defy 1 Revenge is stamped upon my spear. And blood my battle cry 1 READINGS AND RECITALS. 361 Some strike for hope of booty, Some to defend their all, — I battle for the joy I have To see the white man fall: I love, among the wounded. To hear his dying moan. And catch, while chanting at his side, The music of his groan. Ye've trailed me through the forest, Ye've tracked me o'er the stream; And struggling through the everglade. Your bristling bayonets gleam ; But I stand as should the warrior, With his rifle and his spear; The scalp of vengeance still is fed. And warns ye — Come not here I I loathe ye in my bosom, I scorn ye with mine eye. And I'll taunt ye with my latest breath. And fight ye till I die! I ne'er will ask ye quarter. And I ne'er will be your slave; But I'll swim the sea of slaughter Till I sink beneath its wave 1 G. W. Pattbn. CHRISTMAS NIGHT IN THE QUARTERS. [The simple philosophy and originality exemplified in the following capital description of the habits and peculiarities of the African race furnish a reason for its insertion.] When merry Christmas-day is done, And Christmas-night is just begun; While clouds in slow procession drift To wish the moon-man " Christmas gift," Yet linger overhead, to know What causes all the stir below ; At Uncle Johnny Booker's ball The darkeys hold high carnival. From all the country-side they throng. With laughter, shouts, and scraps of song — Their whole deportment plainly showing That to the frolic they are going. Some Ij'.ie ll.e path with shoes in hand. 362 READINGS AND RECITALS. To traverse muddy bottom-land; Aristocrats their steeds bestride — Four on a mule, behold them ride I And ten great oxen draw apace The wagon from ** de oder place," With forty guests, whose conversation Betokens glad anticipation. Not so with him who drives : old Jim Is sagely solemn, hard and grim, And frolics have no joys for him. He seldom speaks, but to condemn — Or utter some wise apothegm — Or else, some crabbed thought pursuing. Talk to his team, as now he's doing : Come up heah. Star ! Yeebawee I You alluz is a-laggin' — Mus' be you think I's dead, An' dis de buss you's draggin' — Vou's mos' too lazy to draw yo' bref. Let 'lone drawin* de waggin. Dis team — quit bel'rin, sah ! De ladies don't submit 'at — Dis team — you ol' fool ox. You heah me tell you quit 'at ? Dis team's des like de 'Nited States; DaCs what I's tryin' to git at I De people rides behind De pollytishners haulin' Sh'u'd be a well-bruk ox To foller dat ar callin' An' sometimes nuffin won't do dem steers, But what dey mus' be stallin' 1 Woo bahgh ! Buck-kannon ! Yes, sah. Sometimes dey will be stickin'; An' den, fus ting dey knows, Dey takes a rale good lickin' — De folks gits down : an' den watch out For hammerin' an' kickin'. Dey blows upon dey hands. Den flings 'em wid de nails up. Jumps up an' cracks dey heels, An' pruzntly dey sails up, An' makes dem oxen hump deysef. By Iwistin' all dey tails up I READINGS AND RECITALS. 363 In this our age of printer's ink, 'Tis books that show us how to think — Tlie rule reversed, and set at naught, That held that booUs were born of thought; We form our minds by pedants' rules; And all we know is from the schools; And when we wnrk, or when we play, We do it in an ordered way — And Nature's self pronounce a ban on, Whene'er she dares transgress a canon, Untrammeled thus the simple race is That " works the craps" on cotton-places t Original in act and thought, Because unlearned and untaught. Observe them at their Christmas party, How unrestrained their mirth — how hearty! How many things they say and do. That never would occur to you 1 See Brudder Brown — whose saving grace Would sanctify a quarter-race — Out on the crowded floor advance, To " beg a blessin' on dis dance." O Mahsrl let dis gatherin' fin' a blessin' in yo' sight I Don't jedge us hard for what we does — you knows it's Christmas' night; An' all de balance ob de yeah we does as right's we kin — Ef dancin's wrong — oh, Mahsr ! let de time excuse de sin 1 We labors in de vineya'd — workin' hard, an' workin' true — Now, shorely you won't notus ef we eats a grape or two. An' takes a leettle holiday — a leettle restin'-spell— Bekase, nex' week, we'll start in fresh, an' labor twicet as welL Remember, Mahsr — min' dis, now — de sinfulness ob sin Is 'pendin' 'pon de sperrit wh.it we goes an' does it in: An' in a righchis frame of min' we's gwineto dance an' sing; A feelin' like King David, when he cut de pigeon-wing. It seems to me — indeed it do — I mebbe mout be wrongs That people raly ought to dance when Chrismus comes along; Des dance bekase dey's happy — like de birds hops in de trees: De pine-top fiddle soundin' to de bowin' ob de breeze. We has no ark to dance afore, like Isruel's prophet King; We has no harp to soun' de chords, to help us out to sing; But 'cordin' to de gif's we has we does de best' we knows — ■ An' folks don't 'spise de vi'let-flowe'r bekase it aint de rose. 364 READINGS AND RECITALS. You bless us, please sah, eben ef we's doin' wrong to-night; Kase den we'll need de blessin' more'n ef we's doin' right; An* let de blessin' stay wid us untell we comes to die, An' goes to keep our Chiismus wid dem sheriffs in de sky I Yes, tell dem preshus anjuls we's a-gwine to jine 'em soon ! Our voices we's a-trainin' fer to sing de glory tune ; We's ready when you wants us, an' it aint no matter when — - O Mahsr I call yo' chillen soon, an' take 'em home I Amen. The rev'rend man is scarcely through. When all the noise begins anew. And with such force assaults the ears. That through the din one hardly hears Old Fiddling Josey " sound his A"^ Correct the pitch — begin to play — Stop, satisfied — then, with the bow. Rap out the signal dancers know. Git yo^ pardnerSjfust kwattilion I Stomp yo' feet, an' raise 'em high; Tune is : " Oh ! dat water-million ! Gwine to git to home bime-by." S'hite yo' pardners I — scrape perlitely— Don't be bumpin' *gin de res' — Balance all ! — now, step out rightly; AUuz dance yo' lebbel bes'. Fo'wa'd foah I — whoop up, niggers 1 Back agin / — don't be so slow — Swing cornahs ! — min' de figgers : When I hollers, den yo' go. Top ladies cross ober I Hoi' on, till I takes a dram — Gemmen solo 1 — yes, /'j sober— Kaint say how de fiddle am — Hands around ! — hoi' up yo' faces. Don't be lookin' at yo' feet I Swing yo^ pardners to yo' places ! Dat's de way — dat's hard to beat. Sides fo'wa'd t — when you's ready-. Make a bow as low 's you kin I Swing ac} ost wid opp'site lady I Now we'll let you swap agin : Ladies change ! — shet up dat talkin' ; Do yo' talkin aner while — Right an' lef ! — don't want no walkin'« Make yo' steps, an' show yo' style I READINGS AND RECITALS. 365 And so the " set" proceeds — its length Determined by the dancers' stiength ; And all agree to yield the palm For grace and skill, to " Georgy Sam," Who stamps so hard, and leaps so high, " Des watch him !" is the wond'ring cry— . " De nigger mus' be, for a fac'. Own cousin to a jumpin'-jack !" On, on, the restless fiddle sounds — Still chorused by the curs and hounds- Dance after dance succeeding fast, Till supper is announced at last. That scene — but why attempt to show it? The most inventive modern poet. In fine new words, whose hope and trust il. Could form no phrase to do it justice! When supper ends — that is not soon — The fiddle strikes the samaold tune; The dancers pound the floor again. With all they have of might and maic ; Old gossips, almost turning pale. Attend Aunt Cassy's gruesome tale Of conjurors, and ghosts, and devils. That in the smoke-house hold their revels; Each drowsy baby droops its head, Yet scorns the very thought of bed : — So wears the night; and wears so fast, All wonder when they find it passed, And hear the signal sound, to go. From whai few cocks are left to crow. Then, one and all, you hear ihem shout : " Hi ! Booker ! fotch de banjo out. And gib us one st)ng 'fore we goes- One ob de berry bes' you knows !" Responding to the welcome call. He takes the banjo from the wall. And tunes the strings with skill and care- Then strikes them with a master's air; And tells in melody and rhyme. This legend of the olden time ; Go'way, fiddle! — folks is tired o' heirin' you a-squawkin'. Keep silence fur yo' betters — dop't yo' heali de banjo talkin'? About de 'possums tail she's goin' to lecter — -ladies, listen!^ About de ha'r what isn't dar, an' why de ha'r is missin'. " Dar's gwine to be a oberflow," said Noah, lookin' solemn-^ Fur Noah took de Herald, an' he read de ribber column — An' so he sot his hands to work a'elarin' timber-patches, An' 'lowed he's gwine to build a boat to beat de steamah " Natchet." 366 READINGS AND RECITALS. Ol' Noah kep' a-nailin', an' a-chippin', an' a-sawin' ; ^n' all de wicked neighbors kep' a-laughin, an' a-pshawin' ; But Noah didn't min' 'em — knowin' whut wuz gwine to happen : An' forty days an' forty nights de rain it kep' a-droppin.' Now, Noah had done catched a lot ob eb'ry sort o' beas'es — Ob ail de shows a-trabbelin', it beat 'em all to pieces ! He had a Morgan colt, an' sebral head o' Jarsey cattle — An' drew 'em board de ark as soon's he heered de thunder rattle. Den sech anoder fall ob rain ! — it come so awful hebby, De ribber riz immejitly, an' busted troo de lebbee ; De people all wuz drownded out — 'cep' Noah an' de critters. An' men he'd hired to work de boat — an' one to mix de bitters. De ark she kep' a-sailin', an' a-sailing', a«' a-sailin' ; De lion got his dander up, an like to bruk de pal in' — De sarpints hissed — de painters yelled — tell, what wid all de fussiii,', You c'u'dn't hardly heah de mate a-bossin' loun' an' cussin'. Now, Ham, de only nigger what was runnin' on de packet. Got lonesome in de barber-shop, an' c'u'dn't stan' de ricket ; An' so, for to amuse he-se'f, he steamed some wood an' bent it, An' soon he had a banjo made — de fust dat wuz ir.vented. He wet de ledder, stretched it on; made bridge, an' snr-jws, an' apron: An' fitted in a proper neck — 'twas berry long an' tap'rin' ; He tuk some tin,- and twisted him a thimble for to ring it ; An' den de mighty question riz : how wuz he gwint to slri^JJ ii ? De possum had as fine a tail as dis dat I's a-singin' ; De ha'rs so long, an' thick an' strong, — des fit for banjo-stringin' ; Dat nigger shaved 'em off as short as wash-day-dinner graces ; An' sorted ob 'em by de size, frum little E's to basses. He strung her, tuned her, struck a jig, — 'twuz " Nebber min' df wedder" — - She soun' like forty-lebben bands a-playin' all togedder; Some went to pattin' ; some to dancin' ; Noah called de figgers An' Ham he sot an' knocked de tune, de happiest ob niggers ! Now, sence dat time — it's mighty strange — dere's not de slightes' showin' Ob any ha'r at all upon de possum's tail a-growin' ; An' curl'-., ton, — dat nigger's ways: his people nebber los' 'em — For whar you finds de nigger — rlar'o t\e. banjo an' de 'possum. READINGS AND RECITALS. 367 The night is spent ; and as the day Throws up the first faint flash of gray, The guests pursue their homeward way; And through the field beyond the gin, Just as the stars are going in. See Santa Claus departing — grieving — His own dear Land of Cotton leaving. His work is done — he fain would rest, Where people know and love him best — He pauses — listens — looks about — But go he must : his pass is out ; So, coughing down the rising tears, ■ He climbs the fence and disappears. And thus, observes a colored youth — (The common sentiment, in sooth) : "Oh, what a blessin' 'tw'u'd ha' been Ef Santy had been born a twin ! We'd hab two Chrismusses a yeah — Or p'r'aps one brudder 'd settle heah !" Irwin Russell ON THE ICE. [Purely conversational. Impersonate the several characters, and let the interruptions be sudden and wholly unexpected.] Mary Ann went to the front door, last evening, to see if the paper had come. She had been delivering a short address to me concerning what she is pleased to term my "cold molasses style" of moving around. As she had opened the door she remarked, "I like to see a body move quickly, prompt, emphatic," — that was all ; but I heard some one bumping down the steps in a most prompt and emphatic manner, and I reached the door just in time to see my better half sliding across the sidewalk, in a sitting posture. I suggested, as she limped back to the door, that there might be such a thing as too much celerity; but she did not seem inclined to carry on the conversation, and I started for my office. Right in front of me on the slippery sidewalk, strode two independent knights of St. Crispin. They were talk- ing over their plans for the future, and as I overtook them, I heard one of them say: "I have only my two hands to depend on ; but that is fortune enough for any man who is not afraid to work. I intend to paddle my 368 READINGS AND RECITALS. own canoe. I believe 1 can make my own way through the world" — his feet slipped out from under him, and he came down in the shape of a big V. I told him he could never make his way through the world in that direction, unless he came down harder, and that if he did he would come through among the " heathen Chinee," and he was grateful for the interest I manifested. He invited me to a place where ice never forms on the sidewalk- Then I slid along behind a loving couple on their way to hear Madame Anna Bishop. Their hands were frozen together. Their hearts beat as one. Said he: "My own, I shall think nothing of hard work if I can make you happy. It shall be my only aim to surround you with comfort. My sympathy shall lighten every sorrow, and through the path of life I will be your stay and sup- port; your — " he stopped. His speech was too flowery for this climate ; and as I passed by she was trying to lift him up. Two lawyers coming from the court-house next at- tracted my attention. "Ah," said one, "Judge Foster would rule that out. We must concede the two first points. We can afford to do it if evidence sustains us in the third, but on this position we must make our firm stand, and — " his time was up. I left him moving for a new trial. I mused. What a lesson the ice teaches us. How easily is humanity controlled by circumstances — and the attraction of gravitation. What a sermon might be based — I got UD and took the middle of the street to prevent fiiifther iccidents. SOMEBODY'S DARLING. [Effusive — gentle force — slow time.] Into a ward of the whitewashed halls Where the dead and dying lay, Wounded by bayonets, shells and balls, Somebody's darling was borne one day. Somebody's darling, so young and so brave. Wearing yet on his pale, sweet face, Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave, The lingering light of his boyhood grao*. READINGS AND RECITALS. 369 )) ) Matted and damp are the curls of gold, Kissing the snow of that fair young brow; Pale are the lips, of delicate mould — Somebody's darling is dying now. Back from his beautiful blue-veined brow. Brush all the wandering waves of gold ; Cross his hands on his bosom now. Somebody's darling is stiff and cold. Kiss him once for somebody's salce. Murmur a prayer, soft and low ; One bright curl from its fair mates take. They were somebody's pride you know. Somebody's hand hath rested there; Was it a mother's, soft and white? And have the lips of a sister fair Been baptized in the waves of light ? God knows best ! He was somebody's love. Somebody's heart enshrined him there ; Somebody wafted his name above. Night and noon on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away. Looking so handsome, brave and grand. Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay. Somebody clung to his parting hand. Somebody's waiting and watching for him. Yearning to hold him again to her heart. And there he lies, with his blue eyes dim, And the smiling, childlike lips apart. Tenderly bury the fair young dead. Pausing to drop on his grave a tear. Carve on the wooden slab at his head, *' Somebody's darling slumbers here." War Lyrics of the South, APPLE BLOSSOMS, [A prize poem. When used as a recitation, a sprig of blossoms in the hand will heighten the effect.]' I. Hush ! the world is in a dream. All her winter grief forgetting ; Faintly sighs the hidden stream. Through the orchard-grasses fretting. 84 370 READINGS AND RECITALS. Low beneath our loitering feet Trickling dews are softly sinking; Never was a draught so sweet As the apple roots are drinking. Here, among the violets blue, Just at noon I lay a-musing ; Overhead the robins flew, With their songs the winds confusing) Here and there a lark I heard. Some new solo gaily trying; Half I thought I was a bird. Lazy-winged and tired of flying. in. While I lay and watched a mist. White and feathery, roll above me. Suddenly my lips were kissed — "Ah!" said I, "the fairies love me I" So I looked around to see : Lo ! a little golden lady Flitted past me, swift and free. To an arbor , green and shady, IV, There I lost the sprightly elf; Golden ladies all around her Fluttered, till the King himself Never, never could have found her I Every fairy had a crown. Dazzling as a lighted taper ; Every fairy had a gown, Fleecy as a morning vapor, V. Every fairy's veil of white Glistened through the orchard-spacee;^ And their eyes were all so bright That I could not see their faces. Flying, flickering, floating high. All my sleepy senses dazing, — Just as if the sunlit sky 'Neath the apple-tree were blazing f Straightway all the boughs began Such a wavy, gentle motion. As if rushing ripples ran O'er them from an airy ocean- READINGS AND RECUSALS. 37i 37j, Then I saw their leaves uncurl, — • Green, with little, ruddy tinges, Many a silver-shining pearl Dripping from their glossy fringes. VII. Floating, flaming, flickering far — Who a fairy's flight could hinder? Downward like a shooting star, Upward like a fiery cinder ! All at once — a golden flock — On a verdant bough t'ley centred ; I could see it rock and rock, Like a flower a bee has entered. VIII. Why, the very waves below. Round the roots in darkness creeping. Up the tree made haste to go, Out among the branches leaping ! Warm and warmer at the heart Of the bough such tides went rushing, Ruby buds began to start — Oh, you should have seen them blushing 1 All the green leaves crowding through. Till the very shades looked sunny — Wondrously they grew and grew, Every bud a cup of honey ! Then I saw them open slow. Loth to leave their dreamy dozing. Crimson petals edged with snow Lightly, tenderly unclosing. X. Ah ! how fragrant every one ! Here's the bough — the fairies found it; For I siw them in the sun Float and flicker all around it. Downward like a falling star. Upward like a flaming cinder, Flying fast and flitting far — Who a flash of light could hinder ? XI. Steeped in sunshine, bathed in dew. Rosy-rich with life and leisure- See, I pluck the branch for you ; Was there ever such a treasure ? 872 READINGS AND RECITALS. There will come a day of gloom. Autumn-winds will hurry hither; Other boughs will lose their bloom— This will never fade or wither. When the birds forget their glee, When the winter frowns above you. You may smile these buds to see, Thinking how the fairies love you. Nay — the idle dream put by — For the bough hath greater glory ; With the angels, by and by. You shall hear a sweeter story. Such a beating heart of love. Set the hidden waters flowing. Sent their gentle tides above. Through the apple-branches going. Such a smile of golden light Kissed their fragrant lips asunder, That you see them red and white. Half for love and half for wonder. Ama'T)A T. Jones. KENTUCKY BELLE. [Purely conversational style.] Summer of 'sixty-three, sir, and Conrad was gone awiy-^ Gone to the county-town, sir, to sell our first load of bay—' We lived 'n the log house yonder, poor as ever you've seen; Roschen there was a baby, and I was only nineteen. Conrad, he took the oxen, but he left Kentucky Belle. How much we thought of Kentuck, I couldn't begin to tell— Came from the Blue-Grass country ; my father gave her to me When I rode forth with Conrad, away from the Tennessee. Conrad lived in Ohio — a German he is, you know — The house stood in broad corn-fields, stretching on, row after row. The old folks made me welcome; tliey were as kind as kind could be; But I kept longing, longing, for the hills of the Tennessee. READINGS AND RECITALS. 373 Oh ! for a sight of water, the shadowed slope of a hill 1 Clouds that hang on the summit, a wind that never is still I But the level land went stretching away to meet the sky — Never a rise, from north to south, to rest the weary eye I From east to west, no river to shine out under the moon, Nothing to malea along — Morgan, Morgan the raider, and his band, six hundred strong. Weary they looked and jaded, riding through night and day; Pushing on East to the river, many long miles away, To the border-strip where Virginia runs up into the West, And fording the Upper Ohio before they could stop to rest. 374 READINGS AND RECITALS. On like the wind they hurried, and Morgan rode in advance ; Bright were his eyes lilce live coals, as he gave me a sideways glance; And 1 was just breathing freely, after my choking pain. When the last one of the troopers suddenly drew his rein. Frightened I was to death, sir; I scarce dared look in his face. As he asked for a drink of water, and glanced around the place. I gave him a cup, and he smiled — 'twas only a boy, you see ; Faint and worn, with dim-blue eyes; and he'd sailed on the Ten- nessee. Only sixteen he was, sir — a fond mother's only son — Off and away with Morgan before his life had begun ! The damp drops stood on his temples; drawn was the boyish mouth; r