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Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924031386794 THE SCIENCE AND ART Hi' ELOCUTION EMBRACING A LOinprehenshie and systematic series of exercises for gesture calisthenics and the cultivation of the voice, together with a collection of nearly one hundred and fifty Literary Gems for Reading and Speaking ARRANGED IN FOUR PARTS AND DESIGNED TO BE USED AS A TEXT BOOK IN THE CLASS-ROOM AND FOR PRIVATE STUDY, AS WELL AS FOR THE USE OF READERS AND SPEAKERS GENERALLY FRANK H. FENNO, A.M., F.S.Sc. Graduate of the National School of Elocution and Oratory; Compiler of '*Fenno's Favorites t" /or Reading and Speaking-; Author o/ "The Chart o/ Elocution,** "Lectures on Elocution," etc., etc. JPYRIGHT, 1878, BY FRANK H. FENNO. HINDS & NOBLE, Publishers ^_5_6-j2-i3-i4 Cooper Institute, New York CIty School Books of All Publishers at One Store K A'l 3?/^^ (LErDICATIOJ^. TO ALL WHO RECOGNIZE THE BEAUTY AND THE DIVIXITV OF THE NOBLE ART OF ELOCUIION; TO ALL WHO WOULD iXI'RESb THEIR 'J'HOUGHTS AND SENTIMENTS IN' 'I'HE BEST POSSIBLli MANNER ; TO ALL WHO DESIRE TO ENJOY THE GEMS OF LITERATURE, This Volume is Respectfully Insciribed IIY THE AUTHOR. /\> i^-sus PREFACE. There havs been scores of books published containing selections for reading and speaking, but the author, in common with the public, has long felt the need of something different from what has yet appeared, — a book containing only the best — the choicest productions usually selected for public delivery — issued in a compact form, accompanied by a comprehensive, yet condensed, treatise on Elocution, sufficiently concise to be clearly understood, yet embracing the entire range of the subject. To meet this want, the present volume has been pre- pared, with the heartfelt desire that it will fill the posi- ition for which it is designed, and prove effectual in its purpose. It is earnestly believed that no person of fair natural abilities, by carefully studying and applying the principles presented in this book, and by giving the examples a reasonable amount of practice, can fail to become a good, effective reader and speaker. The selection of pieces has been made with reference to their adaptation and intrinsic merit, and they will be found to cover the entire range of expression, many of them affording excellent opportunity for elocutionary effect. Each selection is accompanied by an explanatory rl PREFACE. oote indicating the manner in which it should be delivered. This will meet the ready appreciation of students and amateur readers. In Part I. tlie author has endeavored to place before tlie reader the true principles of Theoretical Elocution, and in Part IV. Fractical Elocution will be found exemplified. The exercises for Gesture, Calisthenics and Vocal Culture, it is confidently believed, are the best of their kind; and, if they are perseveringly practiced, advancement will be the inevitable result. In conclusion, the author will merely say that, if this little book be the means of inspiring its readers to a higher knowledge of this beautiful art, it will have Ter-'orr, cd it^ mission. F. H. F. CONTENTS. Part I.— Theoretical. IJ.' B Elocutionary Chart 20 Theory of Elocution 21 \ OICE 21 Ariiciiialion 21 Sounds ; I 1. Vocal 21 2. Aspirate ..' 3. Combined iz Exercises in Arliailation j^ ytodulation 25 I. Quality 25 Pure .... 25 1. Simple 25 2. Orotund 25 Impure 20 1. Aspirate 26 a. Pure 26 b. Vocal 26 2. Pectoral 26 3. Guttural 27 4. Falsetto 27 II. Melody 2S 1. Pitch 2S a. Natural 2S b. Low 29 c. High 29 2. Slides 30 a. Ascending 30 b. Descending, 3° c. Circumflex 3' 3. Cadence 3' (vii) viii CONTENTS. PACB III. Form 3' 1. Natural 3' 2. Effusive -32 3. Expulsive 33 4. Explosive 33 IV. Force y^ 1. Natural. 33 2. Heavy 3-1 3. Gentle 34 V. Time 35 1. Quantity 35 a. Xatiiral 3j b. Loug. 36 c. Short 36 2. Rale 36 a. Natural 36 b. Slow 37 c. Fast 37 3- r.^"- 38 a. Xatural 3S b. Long 39 c. Short 39 Vr. Strc»» 39 1. Initial 39 2. Final. 40 3. Median 40 4. Compound 40 5. Thorough 41 6. Tremulous 41 OilSTURE 42 Position 43 Movements 42 Head and Face 42 Hands 43 1. Supine 43 2. Pione 43 3. Vertical 43 4. Pointing 43 a. Ordinary 43 b. Emphatic 43 CONTENTS. *'ACH 5. Clenched 43 Arms _ ^ J i. Front 44 2. Oblique 4^ 3. Lateral ^_^ 4. Backward 44 ii. Horizontal 44 b. Descending 45 c. Ascendisg 45 Exercises in Gesture 45 Part II.— Vocal Culture. Cultivation of the Voice 51 Development .51 1 . Proper Breathing 51 2. Breathing Exercises jr Table of Breathing Exercises 51 3. Vocal Drill 52 Table of Vocal Exercises i,2 Natural Form 52 Intense Form 53 Calling Voice 53 Transitions 54 Effusive Form . 55 Expr.I-ivc Funn 55 Explosive Form 56 Orotund Form 56 Tremulous Form 57 Table of Special Vocal Exercises 57 4. Calisthenic Exercises 63 Table of Calisthenic Exercises 63 Free Arm Exercise 63 Supine Hand Exercise 63 Clapping Exercise 63 Wa\e Movement 64 Head Movements 64 Body Movements 64 Lyre Movement . , ... 64 Circle Movements 65 I CONTENTS. Part III.— Helps to the Study. TAGE Elocution: Its Importance 69 What is Elocution? 7° Elocution and Rhetoric Co-helpers 7' Division of the Subject 7- Voice: Philosophy and Physiology of 7- VocAL Culture 73 Correct Breathing: Importance of. 7,; Vocal Practice; Exercises in "1 Articulation: Its Value 75 Organs of Articulation 73 Classes of Articulate Sounds 75 Table of Cognates 1(> Elementary Sounds 77 Coalescents and Inseparables 77 Table of Diphthongal Sounds 77 Table of Elementary Sounds. 77 The Vanish 77 The Trilled R 7S Transitions and Repetitions 7>^ Phonetic Spelling 79 Prqniincialioa i>o Words Frequently Mispronounced — Exercise in Pronuncia- tion So Foreign Pronunciation: Tables of 82 Modulation S4 Quality of Voice 85 Speaking and Singing Tones 85 Examples in Pitch 86 Examples in Interrogation 86 Examples in Rate 87 Emphasis: What is it? SS Word Individuality, etc 90 Dr. Wallis's List of Derivatives. c.o Example; The Engine, 91 Analysis and Grouping, .,,,.,,, 92 Transition 93 Example : Ego and Echo, 93 CONTENTS. xi I Ar.R Example : The Loss of the Uorntt 94. Climax : Examples of 95 Reposi 56 Impfrsonation 96 Dialogue Reading 97 Bible Reading 97 Gesture 9S iJoable Gestures 99 Selection : The Miser and Plutus 9 > The Three Forms of Speech loi Conversation; Hints on 101 Reading: Hints on loi Public Speaking: Hints on 102 Applications 103 Pulpit Elocution 104 Dramatic Action 105 Lisr OF Impersonations 108 Part IV.— Readings and Recitals. A Day at Niagara Samuel L. Clemens. 408 Alonro the Brave and the Fair Imogine 164 An Interesting Traveling Companion. . . . Detroit Free Press. 395 .\nnie and Willie's Prayer Mrs. S.P.imow. 253 Annuity, The George Oulram. 380 A|i05trophe to Cold Water JohnB. Cough. 159 Apple Blossoms Amanda T. Jones. 369 Archie Dean Gail Hamilton. 330 Arnold Winkelried Jatiies Montgomery. 274 Attack of the Cumberland George II. Boker. 187 Aunty Doleful's Visit Mary Kyle Dallas. 413 Battle of Ivry Macaulay. 286 Belfry of Ghent, The Robert Maguire. 179 Bells of Shandon, The Francis Mahony. 260 Bells, The Poe. 240 Bells, The Three U'hittier. 199 Betsey and I Are Out Carleton. 355 Boy Britton. •■ rmceythi IVillson. 336 xii CONTSNTS. PACK Bridal Feast, The P- C. Long. 207 Bride of the Greek Isle, The Mrs. Hemans. z^9 Bridge, The Longfellow. 289 Bridget as a School Teacher. Max Adeler. 176 Bugle Song, The Tennyson. 272 Burial of Moses, The "57 Burning of Chicago, The Carklon. 146 Burning Ship, The '86 Cataract of Lodore, The Southey. 234 Caught in the Quicksand Victor Hugo. 393 Charcoal Man, The J. T. Trowbridge. 212 Charge of the Light Brigade Tennyson. 249 Charlie Machree IVilllain y. Hofpin. 268 Christmas Night in the Quarters Irwin Russell. 361 Closing Year, The George £). Prentice. 1 14 Clown's Story, The Vandyke Brown. 347 Creeds of the Bells G. W. Bungay. 250 "Curfew Must Not Ring To-night" . 155 Dawn of Redemption, The James G. Clark. 3S3 Demon Ship, The I/ooi/. 375 Drifting T. Buchanan Head. 315 Dukite Snake, The J. Boyle O' Reilly. 309 Evening at the Farm y. T. Trowbridge. 281 Existence of a God 121 Famine, The Longfello^n. 142 Fireman, The George M. Baker. 287 Gladiator, The 390 Gracious Answer, The Henry N. Cobb. 225 Granny's Tui^t . . 377 Great Bell Roland, The Theodore Tilion. 191 Harvest of Rum, The Paul Denton. 3S9 High Tide ; or, Brides of Enderby yean Ingelow. 117 Horatius at the Bridge Ji/acaulay. 295 How he Saved St. Michael's 301 How Jamie Came Home Carleton. 173 How " Ruby" Played 403 Imitation -^g^ Independence Bell, The 33S Inquiry, The. _ Charles Mackay. 173 )?AGE Irishwoman's Letter, The 25'' Isle of Long Ago, The £. F. Taylor. 116 Jimmy Butler and the Owl iiu John and Tibbie's Dispute 341 John Maynard . . 270 Kale Ketchem ri:iibi Ctirey. 22S Katie Lee and Willie Gray 335 Kentucky Belle C. F. Woohon. 372 Laughing in Mee^^ng Mrs. H. B. Stowe. 324 Launch of the Ship, The Longfellow. l8i Legend of Bregenz Adelaide Proctor. 303 Little Black-eyed Rebel Will Carleton. 359 Little Jim 239 Mabel; or. The Face Against the Pane T. B. Aldrick. 183 Maclaine's Child Charles Mackay. 283 Magdalena; or, the Spanish Duel 129 Maiden Martyr, The Baltimore ElocHtioitist. 343 Major Slott's Visitor Max Adeler. 21O Maud MuUer Whittler. 152 Miner's Death, The John Hanover. 227 Minot's Ledge Jitz yames O'Brien. 357 Miss Malony on the Chinese Question . . . Mrs. M. M. Dodge. 293 Modern Cain, The E. Evans Edwards. 124 Mona's Waters 139 Month of Mars, The B.F. Taylor. 340 Morning Edward Everett. 397 Mother and Poet J\Irs. Browning. 20i Mr. Fogg's Account of a Scientific Experiment . . Max Adeler. 232 New England Weather Mark Twain. 135 New Year's Eve 291 Nightfall W. ]V. Ellsworth. 113 Nobody's Child Mrs. Phila H. Chase. 150 Xo God N. K. Richardson. 123 Old Forsaken School House, The John H. Yates. 24S Old Times and New A. C. Spooner. 244 Old Man in the Model Church John H. Yates. 265 On the Ice 3''7 Orator Puff. Thomas Mul re. 23'j Order for a Picture Alice Carey. 257 j.i^ CONTENTS. PAGK Our Folks Ethel Ly^m. 260 I )ver the River Miss Priest. 166 Painter of Seville, The Susan Wilson. 167 I'assingAway Pierpcmt. 12; Poetry Percival. \>y^ Polish Boy, The Ann S. Sttphens. 29^ Prisoner of Chillon Byron. 276 Pyramus and Thisbe Saxe. 196 Quiet Street, The 237 Rainbow, The 21S Rain on the Roof Coates Kinney. 236 Rainy Day, The Lotigfelloiu. 211 Relief of Lucknow, The Lowell. 345 Revolutionaiy Rising, The T, B. Read. 213 Ride of Collins Graves, The J. Boyle O' Reilly. n% Rock of Ages . 264 Rum Maniac, The Adapted. 220 Samuel Short's Success 242 S iracen Brothers, The. 384 Seminole's Reply, The G, W. Pallen. 360 S'lamus O'Brien Samuel Lover. 351 Sleeping Sentinel Janvier, 312 Somebody's Darling 368 Song of the Greeks (1822) Campbell. 273 Tell on his Native Hills . . Knowles. z(% Uncle Dan'l's Apparition and Prayer. . . Ch'in.'iis and Warner, 200 Vagabonds, The Trowbridge. 204 ^'ision of Mirza, The Joseph Addison. 399 Waiting for the Cliildren 317 NVreck of the Hesperus, The Longfellow. 307 Wrtc'; of the Huron Rev. T. De Witt Talmage. 392 PART I. Theoretical {«7) " Behold, what fire is in his eye, what fervor on his cheek ! Tiiat glorious bur^t o winge 1 vcrds !■ - how boind they from hiL tongue ! The full expression of the mighty thought, the strong, triumphaul argument, The rush of native eloquence, resistless as Niagara, The lieen demand, the clear reply, the fine, poetic image, The nice analogy, the clinching f,ict, the metfiphor uold and free, The grasp of concentrated iiitellecf wielding the omnipotence of truth The grandeur of his speech, in his majssty of a'miI:" — Tupper. (i8) ''The Human Voice is to be considered as a musical instrument — an organ, constructed by the hand of the Great Master of all Har- mony. It has its bellows, its pipe, its mouth-piece ; and, when we know the 'stops,' it will discourse most eloquent music. It has its gamut, or scale of ascent and descent ; it has its keys, or pitch, its tones, its semi-tones, its bass, its tenor, its alto, its melody, its cadence. It can speak as gently as the lute, ' like the sweet south upon a bed of violets,' or as shrilly as the trumpet; it can tune the ' silver sweet ' note of love, and the ' iron throat of war ;• in fine, it may be modulated by art to any sound of soft- ness or of strength, of gentleness or harshness, of harmony or discord — and the art that wins this music from the strings is ELOCUTION." (19) ElocutioiXaky Chart. By Frank H. Fenno. Akticulation. Sounds, Voice. Modulation./ ELOCUTION( Gesture. Pun (Vocal. '^ Aspirate. (Combined. f Simple. 1 Orotund. Quality. Melody. [Aspirate/ {!:;- Impure. ■{ Pectoral. I Guttural. I Falsetto. Pitch. Slides. CatleiK f Natural. - Low. I High. /Ascending 1 Circum \ Descending! flex. f Natural. I Expulsive. [_ Explosive. {Natural. Heavy. Gentle. Tim I" Natural. Quantity ■< Long. (Slioit. Natural. Rate. Pause. (Natura ^ SIq^v. (Fast. ( Natiiirtl. Stress. Position. j\Io\'E\ir.XTS. ■ Initial. Final. Median. Compound. Thorough . Tremulous. Head and Face. I Supine. Prone. Hands. fOrdi marj'. ( Emphatic I Vertical. I Pointing. Clenched. fobiklue. ] [Horizontal, i Lateral. \ Descending. I Backward. [Ascending. f20) Theory of Elocution. Elocution consists in the utterance or expression of t/uuight. As a true Artist imitates Nature, not as she is, but as she should be, — so it is the aim of the Elocutionist to give to thought its highest mode of expression. Thought may be conveyed by Voice or Gesture; the latter reaching the hearer through the eye — the former, through the ear. The Voice is the principal agent f>v which thought is con- veyed ; hence, it is the basis of elocution. ARTICULATION. Articulation consists in a distinct and correct utterance of the elementary sounds. These sounds, formed by the organs of speech, are forty-six in number, and they are divided into Vocal Sounds, Aspirate Sounds bcc\A Combined Sounds. Vocal Sounds are those having vocality. twenty-one in number, viz. . a, ate. e, ^arn. a, (7i'm. ^, ^nd. a, <7ll. I, 8ce. a, (7t. i, h. S, a\K. o, o\^. a, ask. o, orb. e, ^ve. 6, on. NoTi: . — Care should be taken to give a, 6, I, 6 and u very sliort ; to pronounce a (which is a sound between a and a) as dearly as possible, in order to obtain its pure, ringing sound ; and to preserve the dis- tinction between a or a and 4, e and u, a and 6, a and A. Tliesc sounds approach each other very nearly, but a careful ear will readily perceive the fine distinctions existing. ty. They are 0, «se. u, ap. u. Km. oo, ooze. w^ book. oi, o«l. ou, o«t. 22 THEORY OF ELOCUTION. Aspirate Sounds are those produced by the breath only. Thc\ are ten in number, viz. : ", fm. k, /fid. s, jat. ch, ch licnole surprise or to express a secondary meaning, which may be in harmony witli or directly opposite to that con- icyed by the words. Examples. I Wluil ? slic.ir ci -.i-'olf, a prowling wolf? 2. " My father's trade ! now really, that's too bad ! My father's /rm/i? / Why, blockhead, are you mad? My father, sir, did never stoop so low — lie was ^gentleman, I'd have you know." Cadence is the tone laith which a sentence ter/ninatrw Aicoiding to the scntirnent, it m?,y have the ascending or the descending slide, the rising or the fiiUing tircuniflex; or it may v,nii\h with no slide whatever. A sentence expressing a complete thought, having no modifying l/nrase or clause, and not affected by anything preceding or following it, should always terminate witli a downward inflection ; but, when so modified, it should close with a tone adapted to the connection of meaning. The reader should study variety, and avoid uniformity in closing sentences. Practice the following with (i) the vanish, or absence of slide ; (2) slight rising inflection; (3) full rising inflection ; (4) slight falling inflection ; (5) full falling slide; (_6_) rising circuinflex; (7) falling cir- cumflex: "For weeks the clouds had raked the hills." Note. — It will be remembered that there are infinite variations in Pitch, Force, Time and Slides. For instance, in Pitch we have .\alitraly Zcri' and Ilii^h, but one word may require a tone much higher than another, though the lower may be abcj\e the Natural. All varieties of Pitch that vary from the Natural are designated as Ili:;h or Low ; the degree must be determined by the judgment of the readi-r, FORAt. Form of \-oice ma)' be Natural, Effusive, Expulsive, or Explosive. The Natural is that ordinarilv used in conversation. 32 THEORY OF ELOCCTWN. Examples. I. 'Twas the eve before Christmas, " Good-night" had been laid. And Annie and Willie had crept into bed; There were tears on their pillows and tears in their eves. And each little bosom was heaving with sighs. For to-night their stern father's command had been given That they should retire precisely at seven Instead of at eight — for they troubled him more With questions unheard-of than ever before. 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 afterooon. When my heart was as light as a blossom in June ; The green earth was moist with the new-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. 7 he Effusive is a Tc'iy light, gentle form, usually cha- riiterized by the swell (-<:=—). It is used in expressing that which is beautiful, tranquil or pathetic. It is tharac- tL-ristic of lofty sentiment not requiring vigorous ex- pression. Examples. I. IIow beautiful she is I how fair .She lies « itliiii those arms that press 1 ler form with many a soft caress Of tenderness and watchful care. Over the river they beckon to me, Loved ones who crossed to the other side ; The gleam of their snowy robes I see. But their voices are drowned by the rushing tide. There's one with ringlets of sunny gold, And eyes the reflection of heaven's own blue , He crossed in the twilight gray and cold. And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. We saw not the angels who met him there The gate of the city we could not see; 0»er the river, over the river^ iMy brother stands, waiting to welcome me. THEORY OF ELOCUTION. 3g r/ie Expulsive (-«) is a forcible utterance expressive tf determination and intensity of feeling. Examples. I. Up all, and shout for Rudiger — Defiance unto Death. 2 Why not reform ? That's easily said ; But I've gone through such wretched treatment, Sometimes foi^etting the taste of bread, And scarce remembering what meat meant. That my poor stomach's past reform ; And there are times when, mad with thinking, I'd sell out heaven for something warm To prop a horrible inward sinking. The Explosive (=— ) is used in vehement language and in powerful description. It usually manifests itself in the bursting of the voice on a single word. Examples. Men, at some time, are //tasters of their fates. 2. " Halt /" — the dust-brown rank stood fast; " Fire /" — out blazed the rifle blast. FORCE. Force, or po7iie/- of the voice, is of three kinds — Natural, Heavy and Gentle. Natural Force is that most commonly used in speaking or reading. Examples. I W» are two travellers, Roger and I. Roger's my dog — come here, you scamp I Jump for the gentleman — mind your eye ! Over the table — look-out for the lamp! The rogue is growing a little old ; Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out doors when nights were cold. And ate and drank — and starved together. S 84 THEORY OF ELOCUTION. 2. 'Tis easy to stand on a vessel's deck, On a vessel snug and trim, And watch the foam from her flashing wake, And the rainbow bubbles swim ; 'Tis easy enough to climb the mast When hushed the billow's war. And zephyrs play With the pennon gay That floats with the highest spar. Heavy Force is used in grand description and in con- veying any idea of power. Examples. I. 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 lightning illumined in wrath. Bell never yet was hung, Between whose lips there swung So grand a tongue. As the bleak Atlantic currents Lash the wild Newfoundland shore. So they beat against the State-house, So they surged against the door. Gentle Force is used in tender and pathetic description, and in all cases where a subdued form is necessary to cor- rectly express the sentiment. Examples. I. Noiselessly as the daylight Comes when the night is done, And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek Grows into tlic great sun,— THEORY OF ELOCUTION. jj5 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 wep^. Silently down from the mountain crown The great procession swept. Hush-a-bye, Lilian, Rock to thy rest; Be thy life, little one. Evermore blest. Once has the changing tnoon Waned in the skies Since little Lilian Opened her eyes. Once has the crescent inoon Shone in the west On little Lilian Taking her rest. TI^rE. Time has reference to Quft)ititii, Kate, and Paicse. Quantity is the amount of tiinf given to a word. It may be Natural, Long, or Short. Natural Quantity is that umally given to words in unemotional language. Example. There is one accomplishment, in particular, which I would earnestly recommend to you. Cultivate assiduously the ability to read well. Where one person is really interested by music, twenty are pleased by good reading. Where one person is capable of becoming a. skillful musician, twenty may become good readers. Where there is one occasliin suitable for the exercise of musical talent, there are twenty for that of good reading. 3g THEORY OF ELOCUTION. Long Quantity is used in expressing that which is grand, sublime, gloomy or ho7-rihle. Examples. O thou Eternal One ! whose presence bright All space dcth occupy, all motion guide; Unchanged through Time's all-devastating flight; Thou only God ! There is no God beside ! I had a dream which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguished; and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless and pathless ; and the icy earth Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air; Morn came, and went, and came, and brought no day. Short Quantity is vsed to express sentiment light, joyous, gay and brisk. It also expresses haste, fear, com- mand, indignation, etc. EXAMPLKS. I. A huri-y of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath from the pebbles in passing a spark Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet. Ring out the old, ring in the new. Ring, happy bells, across the snow ; The year is going, let him go ; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Rate is the degree of rapidity or slowness with 7vhich several successive words are uttered. It may be Natural Slow or I^ast. Natural Rate is that tvhich a person naturally uses in retfding or speaking. THEORY OJ< ELOCUTION. 37 Examples. la O good painter, lell me true, Has your hand the cunning to draw Shapes of things that you never saw ? Ay ;• Well, here is an order for you. Woods and cornfields a little brown, The picture must not be over-bright, Ve'. all in the golden and gracious light Of a cloud when the summer sun is down. 2. What a fascination there is in really good reading! In th« hospital, in the chamber of the invalid, in the nursery, 'n the domestic and in the socal circle, among chosen friends and companions, how it enables you to minister to the amusement, the comfort, the pleai>ure of dear ones, as no other art or accomplishment can. No instrument of man's devising can reach the heart as does that most wonderful inftru- ment, the human voice. It is God's special gift and endowment to his chosen crea':ures. Fold it not away in a napkir.. Slow Rate mn[i dmote horror ami aire; it should bt Hied in hniguage yerioun, sublime, and /lathetie. Ex .MPLES. By the flow of the jnland river Whence the fleets of iron have flea Where the blades of the grave-grass quivei Asleep on the ranks of the dead : Under the sod and the dew, Wajiing the judgment day, Un-jcr the one, the Blue, L ndei the other, th» 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 e:cpress sentiment, lively, joyous, impasmned and vehement. 38 VHEORY VI- ELOCUTION. Examples. I. And see ! she stirs ! She starts — she moves — she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel, And, spurning with her foot the ground, With one exulting, joyous bound. She leaps into the ocean's arms. 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, With 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 thousand 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 st.ir, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. Pause is the suspension of the voice. Poetic and Ora- torical "PoMXi express emotion, J?hetorici7 / Fa.uses are those demanded by the sense and structure of a sentence. Grammatical Pauses are those indicated by the usual marks of punctuation, and Prosodial Va-u^ts are those used only in verse. But in this connection it is thought best to make three divisions, viz. : Natural Pause, Long Pause, and Short Pause. Natural Pause is uscil in unimpassioned language and frdinaty description. EXAMIi I . Have you heard the tale of the Aloe plant. Away in tlie sunny clime? riy humble growth of a hundred years It reaches its blooming 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 bowers. But the plant to the flower is a sacrifice, For it blooms but once, and in blooming dies. ThUORY OF ELOCUTION. 39 Long Pause usually accompanies slow rate or a change of sentiment, 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, fear, etc. Example. John, be quick ! Get some water ! Throw the powder overboard ! It cannot be reached ! Jump into the boat, then ! Shove oSf! 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. There 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. Examples. 1. There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower; There's a titter 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; I make a sudden sally. And sparkle out among the fern, To iiicker down a valley. 40 THEORY OF ELOCUTION. 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; The sword we have drawn v e will sheathe not. •• Art thou a friend to Roderick ?" " So.'' "Thou dar'st not call lliyself a foe?" " I dare, to him, and all the band He brings to aid his murderous hand." Median Stress or the Swell (-c=-), characteristic of the Orotund Quality and Effusive Form, is most marked ;n 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 ami Final in one word. It is indicative of surprise, irony and determination. Examples I. Gone to be married ! Gone lo swear a pcaie ! Shall Levin's have Blanche, and Blanche Ihese /irovinees f t. And this man Is now become a god. THEORY OF ELOCUTION. 41 ril have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak : I'll have rr.y bond ; and therefore speak no more. 77/ not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool. To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield To Christian intercessors. Follow not : I'll have no speaking : I'll have my bond. Thorough Stress (□) is an abrupt heavy force, used in comfnanU, fearlessness a)ul braggadocio. EXAMI'LES. 1. Blaze, with your serried columns! I will not bend the knee ! The shackles ne'er again shall bind The arm which now is free. 2. " I scorn forgiveness, haughty man ! You've injured me before the clan. And naught but blood shall wipe away The shame I have endured to-day !" Tremulous or Intermittent Stress (-^'^) is used in fear, joy and laui^hter, in the broken voice of sorrow, a?id in imitation of the feeble voice of old age. Examples. 1. Ho, why dost thou shiver and >hake. Gaffer Gray, And why does thy n ise look so blue ? " 'Tis the weather is cold, 'tis I've grown very old, And my doublet is not very new, well-a-day." 2. A young mother knelt in the cabin below. And pressing her babe to her Ijosom of snow. She prayed to her God, 'mid the hurricane wild, " O Father, have mercy, lool; I'nwn on my child !" Note. — The "royal road" to succes in reading lies in a true con- ception of the spirit of the piece, and a faithful delineation of the autho. 's meaning. Endeavor to grasp the ideas, make them a part of yourself, and clothe your hearers with them. Do not allow your audience to grope blindly for that which you are trying to express, but let your own soul enter into the work, and make the thought so apparent that your hearers cannot fail to comprehend the entire meaning. 42 THEORY OF ELOCUTION. Another element of power lies in playing upon words and giving (hem their full individual expression. For instance, the yioxd. firm should usually be spoken in a fiim tone of voice, sti-ong in a strong tone, light in a light tone, grand in a manner conveying an idea of grandeur. Old, sweety loJigy gay, cold, deep, dark, fierce, wild, horrid, mad, cool, hot, yoting, black, timid, bold, roar, whisper, thunder, growl, laugh, rise, sink, blozo, roll, murviur, titter, babble, gush, burst, dash, dance, breathe, i-ipple^t\\eie and all similar words may be ren- dered infinitely more expressive by giving each word its own peculiar individual character. GESTURE. Gesture is that part of Elocution which appeals to the tye. It relates to Position and Movements. Position of the body should be in harmony with the character of the thought. Vigorous expression requires a firm posture; beauty of sentiment, a graceful attitude. The position should be changed, not too often, as quietly and with as few movements as possible. The arms, when not in use, should hang easily by tlie sides, and one foot should be slightly in advance, the head being held natu- rally erect. The speaker should always take his position near the front of the stage, in order to be the better seen and heard. In reading, always stand or sit erect, with the lungs well inflated. Movements of the body are necessary to give character to the delivery, but they must be natural, graceful and appropriate. The Head should maintain an easy position and allow the eyes to move deliberately over the audience. Do not stare into vacancy while before a company, but fix your ^aze upon the individuals composing the assemblage. THEORY OF ELOCUTION. 43 Avoid an excessive use of the head, both in reading and speaking. In reading, the eyes should be raised from the book as much as possible. Practice will give facility in reading long sentences with a single glance at the book. The Expression of the face should reflect the character of the thought. The Hands in gesture should be used easily and grace- fully. Frequent practice before a mirror will be advan- tageous in securing freedom and grace of movement. The hands may ht Supine, Prone, Vertical, Pointing and Clenched. The Supine Hand lies easily opened, with the palm upward- It is the common form for gesture. The Prone Hand is opened, with the palm downward. It is used to denote negative assertions, superposition, etc. The Vertical Hand is opened, with the palm outward from the speaker. It is used in warding off and in de- noting a limit. The Pointing Hand, forefinger extended, is used in designating or pointing out any particular thing or place. Ordinarily the hand is loosely opened, but, when the gesture is emphatic, it is tightly closed The Clenched Hand denotes intense action of the will or of the passions. The Arms should be used naturally and with decision. In forcible utterance they move in straight lines; in 44 THEORY OF ELOCUTION. gracefwl expression, tliey move in curves, but even in the curves they should show that they are servants sent to perform certain duties, and that they are guided in every motion by a power beyond themselves. Sometimes, in familiar gesture, the forearm only is used, but ordinarily the arm moves freely from the shoulder. Hand and Arm Gestures are made in four general directions, viz.: Front, Oblique, Lateral and Backward. Each of these is subdivided into Horizontal, Descending and Ascending. Front gestures are used to designate or to illustrate that which is near to us, whether it be an object, a thought or a feeling. In addressing an object, real or ideal, we suppose it to be placed in the direction of the Front gesture. Oblique gestures are less emphatic and more general In their application than the Front gestures. They relate to things indefinitely. Lateral gestures denote expansion, extreme distance, breadth ; or the placing of persons, objects or ideas in contrast one with another. Backward gestures indicate things remote, obscure or hidden. Horizontal gestures are employed in general allusions; ihey indicate a level or equality, and belong to the realm of the Intellect. THEORY OF ELOCUTION. 45 Descending gestures denote inferiority or inequality, and, when emphatic, they show determination and pur- pose. They belong to the Will. Ascending gestures denote superiority, greatness, an unfolding or lifting up figuratively or literally. They belong to the Imagination. Note. — Two important points : I. Make all gestures with decision — when the gesture is completed, let the arm fall slowly to the side — never allow the arms to switip. II. Practice until graceful gesture becomes natural. EXERCISES IN GESTURE. Practice on the following exercises cannot fail to give ease and grace to the movements of the arm and hand. The letters refer to the direction of the gesture, which should be made upon the word or syllable printed in Italics. This list of exercises is not presented as original. RIGHT HAXD SUPINE. D. F. This sentiment I will maintain with the last breath o{ life. U, E. I appeal Ut yoit, sir, for your decision. A. F. I appeal to the great searcher of hearts for the truth of what I utter. D. O. Of all mistakes, none .'re so fatal as those which we incur through prejudice. H. O. Truth, honor, _;«itice were his motives. A.'O. Fix your eye on the prize of a truly «oble ambition. D. L. Away with an idea so absurd. 4i; THEORY OF ELOCUTION JI. L, 'riic breeze of morning A\'nftecl 7«cense on llie air. ./. L. Ill dreams Ihro' camp and court he bore the trophies of a (TtJwqiieror. D. B. . hi'irv with an idea so alilimrent to humanity. //. B. Search the records of the remotest an^/quity for a parallel to this. yi. B. Then rang their proud Jitirrah. RIGHT HAND PRONE. D. E. Put doiun the unworthy feeling. JJ. E, 'Kestraiu the unhallowed propensity. E>. O. Let evciy one who would merit the Christian name repress such a feeling. //. O. I charge you as men and as Christians to lay a zes/rai'U oi\ all such dispositions. ..-/. O. Ye gods, with/io/f/ your vengeance. Z*. Z. The hand ('( affeclion shall smooth the tiirf iiix )our last pillow //. Z. The cloud of adversity threw its gloom over all his/r^pect-i. A. L. So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud that swathes, as with a purple shroud, Benledi's distant hill. RIGHT HAND VERTICAL. // F. Arise ! meet and r<-/t7 the foe ! A. J'. For/»/f/it, L'Ttl of Heaven! //. O. His arm warded ^the blow. A. O. May Heaven az'i 7-/ the cal.mity! II. L, Out of my sight, thou .serpent] //. B. A;. 'i'.i', delusive phantom. THEORY OF ELOCUTION. 47 BOTH HANDS SUPINE. D. F. AU personal feeling he de/wited on the altar of his country's good. H. F. Listen, I \mplore you, to the voice of reason I A. F. >/(7j7/ universal lord. D. O, Every personal advantage he sur^^Kdered to the common good. J/ O. It'e/come ! once more to your early home! A. O. Hail! holy Light 1 D. L. I utterly renounce all the supposed advantages of such a station. H. L. They yet slept in tlie w ide ^byss of possibility. A.JL. 1o^ ,\oy iaxevir I BOTH HANDS PRONE. Z>. F. Lie light\y on him, earth — bis step v as light on thee. //. F- Now all the blessings of a glad father rest on thee I A F. Blessed be Thy «ff/«f, O Lord, Most High! r>. O. We are in Thy sight but as worms of the dust. II. 0. May the grace of God abide with you forever/ A. O. And let the triple rainbow rest o'er all the mountain top*. D. L. Here let the tumults of passion forever cease I H. L. Spread wide aroundthe heaven-breathing calm! A. L. Heaven opened wide her ever during gates. 4S THEORY OF ELOCUTION. BOTH HANDS VERTICAL. H. F. Hence, hideous siiccire ! A. F. Hide your faces, holy aiiyels ! //. O. Far from our hearts be so inhuman a feeling. A. O. Angels and ministers of grace, defend us ! //. L. The gates of death in sunder break. A. L. Melt and dS.%pel, ye spectre doubts! PART II. Vocal Oultuhe * ♦ (49 OUTLINE. I Development. I Habit. -J Proper Breathing. I I ("Breathing Exercises. Quality. -j Drill. -< Vqcal Drill. 1 I Calisthenics. (5°) YooAL Culture. The Cultivation of the z'oiie is necessary to an easy and correct use of it. To secure ease in its use, we develop itj to enable us to use it cgrrectly, we improve its quality. DEVELOPMENT. The Development, or increased power of the voice is secured by a proper habit of breathing, by vocal drill, and bv exercises in breathinz and calisthenics. Note. — In Elocution, we begin at the lowest step — breathing; after this follow, in nalural order, articulation and modulation with their various subdivisions. Breathing is the simplest act we perform — we aim to render it correct ; conversation is the next step — we endeavor to acquire a correct use of the conversational 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 through the mouth. ^l VOCAL CULIUKE. 4. Breathe quickly through the mouth, allowing the lungs to become filled with 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 bafikward 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 tone. The sentences under the Simple and Orotund qualities of voice may be practiced freely to secure this end. lABLE OF EXERCISES FOR VOC.A.L Cv.LTURE. The following exercises are taken from the selections found in this book. They are designed to give purity and power to the 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. I. < 'vei the hill the farm-boy goes. Maud MuUer, on a summer's day. Raked the meadow sweet with hay. They've left the school-house, Charlie, where years ago we sat And shot our paper bullets at the master's time-worn hat ; The hook is gone on which it hung, the master sleepeth now Where schoolboy tricks can never cast a shadow o'er his brow. VOCAL CULTURE. 63 '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. Watched carelessly the feathery foatn That flecked the rippling title. Intense Form. I. Impregnable their front appears. All horrent with projected spears. t. It must nut be : 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 I 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 ! Bell never yet was hung, Between whose lips there swung So grand a tongue ! Calling Voice. Hi ! Harry Holly ! Halt— and tell A fellow just a thing or two ; You'\e had a furlough, been to see How all the folks in Jersey do. ' To all, the truth we tell ! we tell !" Shouted in ecstasies a bell. ' Come all ye weary wanderers, see ! l.iur Lord has made salvation freel 34 FOCAL CULTURE. Repent, believe, have fa'ili, and then Ke saved, and praise the Lord, Amen ! Salvation's free, we tell! we tell!" Shouted the Methodistic bell. 3. Blow on ! this is the land of liberty ! 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 : " Take heart ! hold on !" he shouted, " The Three Bells shall stand by." 5. Charco' ! Charco' ! Hark, o ! Hark, o \ Transitions. (HIGH). 1. Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again I 2. " Ve purifying waters, swell !" Rang out the clear-toned Baptist bell. 3. " Ring! oh, ring for liberty !" 4. Hurrah ! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war. Hurrah ! hurrah ! lor Iviy and Her.ry of Navarre ! (LOW). '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. With woeful measures wan Despair — Low, sullen sounds his grief beguiled; A sulemn, strange and mingled air; ' l\vas sad by fits — b)' starts 'twas wild. VOCAL CULTURE. Id his dark, carved oaken chair Sat the old baron — dead ! Hear the tolling of the bells — Iron bells ! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels. Effusive Form. I. The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary. How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells ! Each one its creed in music tells, In tones that float upon the air. As soft as song, as pure as prayer. Mabel, little Mabel, with her face against the pane. Looks out across the night at the beacon in the rain. How often, oh, how often. In the days that had gone by, I had stood on that bridge at midnight And gazed on that wave and sky. My soul to-day Is far away, Sailing the Vesuvian Bay; My winged boat, A bird afloat. Swims round the purple peaks remote. Expulsive Form. 1. "Farewell! farewell! base world, farewell!" 2. Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, Charge for the golden lilies — upon them with the lance! 3. " Maclaine ! you've scourged me like a hound — You should have struck me to the ground ; You should have played a chieftain's part ; You should have stabbed me to the heart." 556 VOCAL CULTURE. 4. Oh, * Kii what pride I used To walk these hills, and iDok up to my God, And bless him that the land was free 1 Explosive Form. 1. Again to the battle, Achaiansl Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance ! Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree, It has been, and shall ^'~) The lingering ray Of dying day Sinks deeper down and fades away. 6. (— ^) -A- faint light gleams, A light that seems To grow and grow till Nature teems With mellovi' haze. 7. (— c) But, lo! he is nearing his heart's desire; He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, With Sheridan only five miles away. 8. (==— ) 1 he loud wind dwindled to a whisper low. 9. "Ho! a sail! Ho! a sail!" cried the man at the lea, "Ho 1 a sail !" and they turned their glad eyes o'er the sea. " They see us, they see us, the signal is waved ! 'i'hey bear down upon us, they bear down upon us; Huzza I we are saved!" VOCAL CULTURE. 59 10. For weeks the clouds had r.iked the hills. 1 1 . Co', boss ! Co', boss 1 co' ! co' ! co' ! \i. Blow, bugle, blow; set the wild echoes flying; (>-) Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 13. Over the hill the farm-boy goes. H- Hear the sledges with the bells — Silver bells! * * Hear the mellow wedding bells, (;olden bells! * * Hear the loud alarm bells — Brazen bells ! * * Hear the tolling of the bells- Iron bells! * * 15. \Kitjoice, you men of Angiers ! ring your bells : King John, your King and England's, doth a'pproai-h- Open yauT gales, and give the victors way ! tf> " In deeds of love excel ! excel !" Chimed out from ivied towers a bell. * " Oil, heed the ancient landmarks well !" \\\ solemn tones exclaimed a bell. * " Ve purifying waters, swell !" In mellow tones rang out a bell. * * " Not faith alone, but works as well, Must test the soul !" said a soft bell. " Farewell ! farewell ! base world, farewell !" In touching tones exclaimed a bell. * " To all, the truth we tell ! we tell !" Shouted in ecstasies a bell. 17. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you — trippingly on (he tongue; but, if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spake my lines. 18. Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faiih, so that I could lemove mountains, and have not charily, I am nothing. 60 VOCAL CULTURE. 19. (si) And thou, O, silent mountain, sole and bare, 1 1, blacker than the darkness, all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars — ( _<;) Or when they climb the sky, ( | ) or when they sink- (InitiTl Stress) Companion of the morning star at dawn, Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn Co-herald ! wake, oh ! 7uake and utter praise ! Ye ice falls ! ye that from your dizzy heights f>— ) Adown enormous ravines steeply slope, | Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty noise, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! ( — ■) Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts! (•) Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven, Beneath the keen full moon ? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows ? Who with flowers Of living blue spread garlands at your feet? God ! God ! the torrents like a shout of nation* Utter : the ice-plain bursts and answers God. (■) To the deep, (.) To the deep; (•) Down, (.) Down; (-ec) Through the shades of sleep — Through the cloudy strife Of death and of life ; Through the veil and the bar Of things that seem and are; Even to the steps of the remotest THRONE. (•) Down! Down! (.) Down! (■) Oh time! Oh life ! {.) Oh world ! (:=— J On whose last steps I climb. (:5>-j Trembling at that where I had stood before. (>— j When will return the glory of your prime? (>—) 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 colli grave, under the deep, deep sea. Or in wide desert, (.) where no life is found; (■) Which hath been mute, (.) and still must sleep profound. ( — ) No voice is hushed, no foot treads silently; (^.) But clouds an-7' forty-six sounds; but theoretically^^ should consider the following as diphthongal sounds, though they are so closely bound together as to entitle them to rJ>nk as jingle sounds ; TABLE OF DIPHTHONGAL SOUNDS. Long a = a ■\- long e. Long i = Italian a -|- short i. Long 0=0-)- long 00. Long tt = short i -j- long 00. 01 ^ short -|- short i. oa = short o -j- 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, i, I, 6, u, do. 2. Diphthongal: a, i, 5, a, oi, ou. 3. Coalescents : a, e, o, u. II. Aspirates. I. Pure : h. {( Explodents ; k, p, t, ch, wh. 2. Impure. < ff, s, sh,'th. ( Continuants : J (1, m, n, r, v, z, zh, th, ng. 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 ir, penmanship, it often ap. z, sh. ) . ' y Ks jure a; ^u go EXAMPLES IN REPI-riTIOtt 1. S, s. Fabe jounds. sh, sh. Huj^, C^ar'.otte! /, z. Ks zealous. st, si. Severej/ storais,. 2. Eight great gray geese grazing gai?y into Greece. 3. A storm ariseth on the sea. A nno>lel vessel is straggling amidst the war of the elements, quivering and shivering, shrinking and bat- 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 seasoi*. — Practical Elocution. 4. He spoke reasonably, philosophically, disinterestedly, and yet HELPS TO THE STUDY. 79 particularly, of the unceremoniousness of their communicabilitv, ami peremptorily, authoritatively, unhesitatingly declareil 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 white bootblack agreed to black the black boot- black's boots. The black bootblack was of course willing to have his boots blacked by his fellow bootblack, and the bootblack who hnd agreed to black the black bootblack's boots went to work. When the bootblack had blacked one of the black bootblack's boots till it shone in a mannel' that would make any bootblack proud, ihis bootblack who had 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 white bootblack had made blacking other men's boots. This the bootblack whose boot had been Macked refused to do, saying it was good enough fir 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.\ck bootblack's boot as angry as a bootblack often gets, and he vented his black wrath by spitting upon the blacked boot of the binck 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; //(J.^'aif, six letters and four sounds; ^-ijze/, three letters and '.wt 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. K\\ silent letters 80 HELPS TO THE STUDY. are to be disregarded, as the sounds only are to be pro- nounced. Thus: "Plough. F-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. Dar. 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 usage of 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 is an excellent plan to keep a pre perly-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 2. The following should have Italian a, as ir arm: Ha, balm, calm, palm, psalm; calf, half; wrath; a\mt; laugh; launch; mustache, etc. Class _f. 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, ciasp; di.nce, glance; chant, plant, etc. Class 4. Coalescent e should not be pronounced like coalescent u. Examples: Earn, verge, verse, mercy, prefer, etc. Class J'. The following should have short (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. for nt) should never Le pronounced like Ion-:; 00 unless preceded by the sound of r, cli, sh or zh. Examples : Dew, duty, duel, gewgaw, juice, lut ■, new, sue, Ilmii.', whew, etc. It should be 00 in the following: Rude, bnuc, frui^ chew, chute (pronounced shoot), chusite, sure, azure, etc. [ Note. — AMicn u or ew is not preceded by the sound of r, ch, sh or zli, it has the regular sound of u, which is that'Of short i and long 00 pronounced as closely together as possible. Thus : Cube is correctly pronounced kyoob, not kewb nor koob.'\ Class 7. The following liave the accent on the last syllable : Dis- course (noun and verb), retc--^, research, re'.o-.i je, romance, address (noun and verb), ally (m im and verb), Loi.tuur, finance, routine, canine, robust, occult, verbose, etc. Class 8. A,you, the, that, for, from, e.\.:.,t^V?- an obscure vowel sound (nearly like short u, as in run) vi'hen they occur as unemphatic words in a seriterj^. The before a vowel ;:und, 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 w'lo was troubled with bronchitis. The Indian, bein;:; in ui ,ha- biUe, was treated with d'sdain by this blac'-'^uard, who called him a dog and bade him with much vehemence and contumely to leave his domain, or he would demon :.:;;e with his carbine the use of a cofrm and a cemetery. The Ind.na calmly surveyed the dimensions of his .European antagonist and opponent, and, bein^ ;.i_»acious and robust, and h.wing all the corabativeness of a combatant, shot this ruffian in the abdomen with an arrow. Ayo'jng patriot with a black mustache, coming from t'le museum, lauj-hM^'jiy said, "l'r.-",'o! ym; rhoiild be nationally j_'\ .n.ku \>y reoe:. Iml; the right of franchise, fjr I wit^e■"^.cd the al'er'--,t'oi'. »nd the evidence is irrefragable and indisputable that you ha»e -em» "-J a nauseous reptile." 82 HELPS TO THE STUDY. 1 now make this inquiry : Will not the matrons in this country and the patrons of our schools inaugurate some system that will give sn impetus to the interesting study of our language ? If half the leisuii; 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 the 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 G«7^/,4(f 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 Parte 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 et. Long e as in ale. Short e as in enA. Ix)ng i or y as in ^ve. Short i or y as in ft. Long u as in oozt, n. Diphthongs. Ae, or 5, like English a or short e. at, ay, like English e. au, like English ow. ti, ey, like English a (with vanish.) ee, or 6 (German o), formed by sounding long a with lips in position for long 0. ut, or U (French or German k), formed by sounding long e with lips placed for long oo. III. Consonants. C, hard before a, o, or «. r, rolled, or trilled. J (between vowels), usually like English t. w, often like v (not dental). ih, like t. HELPS TO THE STUDY. 8« Latin. (Roman Pronunciation.) Ae, like English i. oe, like English oy, ui, like English we. }, like English J/. 7J, like English w. n, like English ng (before palatals). is, like English /J. ch, like English k. ph, like English/. <-5nd^, always hard. s, always sharp. Latin. (Modern PRONUNciATioN.y Ae and oe, like English ee. au, like English aw, eu, like English ew. ei and ui^ like English eye. es and ot (final) like English eez and nf. ch, like English ^. 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, all, 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 ti. j, like English J. sch, like English sh. w, like English v (not dental). z, like English ts. ch, guttural. g, always hard. French. Ai, ay, like English a. au, eau, like English o. i (final), like English e. ie (at end of word), like English *. oi, like English wah. ou, like English oo (long). e, often silent. eu, like German S. u, French or German ii. ai4 HELPS TO THE S'lUDY. ch, like English sh (except in Greek derivations). ^(t'^f°'"<='''''°'"-'' I like English c//. gu (before e or i), like Englis'^ f (hard). // (preceded by i)\ like English j/ (formerly Sp. //). qu (before vowel), like English k. gn, like Spanish n. k, scarcely pronounced. '" I (at end of a syllable), nasal. Spanish. /(final), like English ,e. b (between vowels), lite Englibh v (not dental). ^ {e or i following) | j.^^ English th (as in thin). ch (Catalan dialect), like English k. d (between vowels) 1 ,;, j, j;^,^ ^^ ^^^ ;„ ^^^^ a? (at end of word) / & \ J- 1 g (before e,i or y ,^ j \ like English /; (strongly aspirated) gu (before e or /), like English^ (hard). qu (before e or i), like English li. /;, scarcely pronounced. /, nearly like d. //, in two syllables, as villa {veel-ya), a, in two syllables, as canon (can-yon). Italian. /(final), like English »•.■. c (before e and z), like English ch. ch, like English k. g (before e, i or y), like English /. gh, like English^ (hard). y, like English J)'. sc (before e or i), like English sh. sch (before e or i), like English sk. z, like English dz. zz, like English is. h, scarcely pronounced. gl (followed by i), like Spanish //. gn, like Spanish fl. MODULATION. Modulation concerns the proper managemenl of th* voice in speech, and treats of those changes that should HELPS TO THE STUDY. 35 be msde in it to best express the sentiment. When per- fectly at our ease we use I'^e unemotional language of simple conversation. Wht'i -c are influenced by feelings of adoration or sublimity, we use tlie same form of speech, but the language bi.i omes grander, the tones more full and round; we tl-, , use the Orotund. When greatly agitated by intense en; tions of the mind, such as lerror, 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 Tmpilie 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-? voicv, id 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. Singing 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. St, HELPS TO THE STUDY. EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE IN PITCH. " 1. lo. (As high as possible.) " Strike for the sires who left ytu free !" 2. 9. (Extremely high.) " I repeat it, sir, let it come, let it come !'* 3. 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 !" 8. 3. (Low. Modest.) "And this is the night! most glorious night!" 9. 2, (Very low. Sublime.) "Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, — roll !" 10. 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 which they are designed. EXERCISE IN INTERROGATION. The Past — where is it? It has fled! 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 following 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 breese Kills the white sails. . . #;.-e !— Fire ! —Fire !— Fire ! HELPS TO THE STUDY. 87 Scorching smoke in many a wreath, Sulphurous blast of heated air. Grim presentment of quick death. Crouching fear and stern despair, Hisr, to what the Master saith, — " Steady, steersman, steady there!" — Ayt ay I «•■■*•••••■••••••• " To the mast-head!" — it is done, — " Look 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 l" — Ayt ayl Vhen it comes, — "A sail! a sail !" — Up from prostrate misery, Jp l^rom heart-break woe and wail. Up to shuddering ecstasy ; — ■• Can so strange a promise fail ?" " Call the Master, let him see !" — Ay t ay J Silence ! 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 { EXERCISE IN RATE. 1. 9. (As quick as possible.) " Quick as the lightning's flash that illumes the night." 2. 8. (Very quick.) " Charge for the golden lilies, now, upon them with the lance !" 3. 7. (Quick.) " Hurrah 1 the foes are moving!" 4. 6. (Rather quick.) " Wild winds and mad waves drive tiie vessel a-wreck." 5. 5. {^Medium Time.) "What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted !" 88 HELPS TO THE STUDY. 6. 4. (Rather slow.) " Slowly and sadly we laid him down." 7. 3. (Slow.) " The bell strikes one! we take no note of time but from its l>ss." 8. i:. (Very slow.) Which, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length 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. Initial: Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts ! Dash him to pieces' 2. Median : What a piece of work is 7nan f How noble in reason ! how infinite in faculties ! Infortn and movinghovj express and admirable ! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like agoil! 3. Filial: 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 I 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 he bent; his father's hand he took. IVAat was there in its touch that all hisjiery spirit shook f HELPS TO THE STUDY. 83 3. Pectoral : You 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 redxad. faces pale Vf\t\ijiight and agued fear I Mend, and charge home. Or, by \.\\i fires oi heaven, I'll leave the foe And make my wars on you : look to't. Co .le on ! 3. Guttural: Thou stands't at length before mt, undisguised, Of all earth's groveling crew the most accursed. Thou worm I thou viper t to thy native earth Return I Away I Thou art too base for man To tread flpon. Thou scum I thou reptile I IV. Of Pitch. 1. high: They strike / hurrah ! the fo.t has surrendered f iyhotit I shout I my warrior boy. And wave your cap, and clap your hands for joy ! 2. low: The flag 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, tlie 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. past: He looked across the grassy lea, To right, to left, " Ho, Enderby !" They rang " The Brides of Enderby." Note. — Many of the above exercises are selected from HamiWs Elocution. No definite rule can be given for the use of emphasis. Tt is so subtile, its shadings so delicate, that it can never lie 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 iot Xhe sake of emphasis. 4. A succession of ol)jcc!s or ideas. (ff) 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 \vords, 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. .Sy (Latin sto) denotes firmness or strength. Examples: Stand, stay, staff, stop, stout, steady, stake, stamp, etc. 2. Str — ■ indicates violent force or energy. Examples: Strive, stress, strength, stripe, etc. ^. Thr — implies forcible motion. Examples: Throw, throb, Ihnist, threaten, thraldom, thrill, etc. 4. Gl — indicates smoothness or silent motion. Examples : Glib, glide, glow, etc. 5. \Vr — denotes obliquity or distortion. Examples : Wry, wrest, wrestle, wrangle, wring, wrong, wrath, etc. 6. Sw — implies silent agitation or lateral motion ; as sway, sweep, swerve, swing, swim, etc. 7. SI — den tes gentle fall or less obsfciyable motion. Sly, slide, slip, slit, slow, slack, sling, etc. 8. Sp — indicates dissipation or expansion. Spread, sprout, sprinVl?, split, spill, spring, etc. 9. — ash indicates something acting niml>ly and sliarply. Cra.«h, dash, rash, flashy lash, slash, spLish, etc. HELPS TO THE STUDY. %\ lo. — ush denotes something acting more obtusely and dully. Ciu'sh, brush, hush, gush, blush, etc. "The Engine," and the following extract from "When the Cows Come Home," will be found good for practice: When lilingle, 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 chiniiligs 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 cow« 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, torang, toringleringle. By threes and fours and single The cows come slowly home. The same sweet sound of worldless psalm, The same 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 clangl With clatter, and clamor, a clank, and a clang f With veins full of fire, and the artery steam. Roused to the pulse of a feverish dream ; With a gray plume trailing, fleecy and pale. 92 HELPS TO THE STUDY. 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 spring, like the launch of a winu 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, pale 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 tlie life of the East to the 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 forest and skimming the mead, Aw. iking the bear from its underground lair, And staitling the deer to a leap in the air; Breaking the Indian's solitude rest, Pu';hin2 the buffalo far to the west; Skirting the current with spur and with thong. Where the drain of the continent thunders along; Mixing and mingling the races of men. Bearing the A mo 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! 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 may repose in the shadows oi the background. WELPS TO THE STUDY. itS 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! Or, if gory CuUoden so dreadful appear, Draw, ddtard, around thy old wavering 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 on pages 129, 164, 236, 237, 244, 250, 274, and 341. The two following selections will be found admiraWe practice in Transition : EGO AND ECHO.— Jo/in G. Saxe. I asked of Echo, th' other day, (Whose words are few and often funny,) What to a novice she could say Of courtship, love, and matrimony. Quoth Echo, plainly — "Matter 0' money T' 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!" 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 J" 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 7 Quoth Echo, very promptly — "Go itP' 91 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)—" Take her!" THE LOSS OF THE HORNET. Call the walch ! call the watch ! "Hoi the itarbcard 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 clearf Hold the reell keep her.full t hold the reel! How she flew athwart the 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 I jump aloft ! '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 reeft 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 they 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 ! How the vulture bird of death, in its black and viewless form, Hovered sure o'er the clamors of his prey. While through all their dripping shrouds yelled the spirit of the storm ? Bear a hand! HELPS TO THE STUDY. 95 Now out reefs ! brae: the yards! lively there! O, no more to homeward breeze shall her swelling bosom spread, But love's expectant eye bid Despair Set her raven watch eternal o'er the wreck in -ocean's bed. Board your taclis ! 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 "Ho! | the larboard | watch, | ahoy!" should be given in a loud calling voice, with vowels sharply intonated, and with full falling 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 emphatic 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 circ!e away. 2. Clarence has come ! {^Xse, fleeting, 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, T do not mean to read,) And they [i] would go and kiss dead Caesar's woijjids. 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 temperance patience ; and to patience godliness; and to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity. S8 HELPS TO THE STUDY. 6. /.cl Ae:r Kst feeble and lingering glance ratlier behold the gor- geous ens'gn of the republic, now known and honored through- i/Ut t).e £aith, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured — bearing for its motto no such miser- erable interrogatory as. What is all this worth? Nor those other words of delusion 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, aiid in every wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment dear to every true American heart — liberty and union, NOW AND FOREVER, ONE AND INSEPARABLE ! Repose is the sublime emblem of infinite power. It Is reserve force that is immeasurable. He who by violent exertion shows that he has reached nis limit loses that greater conception that we may have formed regarding his powers. We know not the weakness ol' an invisible cable, because its length and size are not revealed to us. Man, by exhibiting the measure of his strength, proves that he is human ; God, by His reserve force, shows us that He is divine. Violence is not our hignest idea of power. We see a greater force in the slowly-moving volume of a Mississippi or an Amazon than in the giddy tumult of a St. Lawrence. Where climax is employed in speech, in order to convey the greatest possible idea of power it is necessary to mark the concluding portion of the sentence with that repose which indicates unlimited reserved strength. It has been well said that "The highest power is mastery, and the highest mastery is self-mastery, and of self-mas- tery repose is the emblem." Impersonation. — In impersonation, the reader or speaker puts himself in the place of another, using the tone and style required by the assumed character. This, however, should not be resorted to when the beauty or sublimity of thought contained in a passage would be weakened thereby, as an assumed form always detracts from the ideas by directing our attention to the manner. But there are many times when personation really adds to the beauty and effectiveness of the rendering. The judgment of the reader must decide when it should be employed and in what particular cases it may be omitted- HELPS TO THE STUDY. 97 When impersonating, the tone may be changed, as well as the general manner. A heavy or light voice, fast or slow rate, low or high pitch will often be a sufficient change. Old Age requires a feeble or cracked voice, higher pitch, slower rate, gentler force, a greater use of the in- flections, and an apparent toothlessness easily secured by retracting the lower jaw and drawing the under lip as far as possible over the teeth. Children's Voices are imitated by light force, many rising and falling slides, using great expression. Let the throat be contracted, that the voice may appear to be formed in the front part of the mouth. In imitating voices of the opposite sex, the reader should employ gentler or heavier force, as required. It will be readily seen that a skillful mimic will surpass all others in impersonation, but it must not be inferred that such only will make good elocutionists. It is not the highest phase of the art to excel in this particular branch, though excellence in this will provoke great popular applause. The true elocutionist should aim at something higher than mimicry. (See List of Imperso- nations, page 1 08. ) In Dialogue Reading several impersonated voices may occur, varying one from another by changes of force, pitch, rate or quality. As a general rule the direction of the eyes and head should change with each transition of character. Where only two speakers are represented the whole body may change position, but where several appear a slight change only is required. In representing two characters, the gaze is alternated left and right, but the descriptive portions (those not spoken by either of the characters) should always be given front. Let changes of position and of voice be sudden and decided, especi- ally so when one speaker is interrupted by another. Bible Reading is of a graver cast than ordinary read- ing, and it requires a somewhat different style in order to properly express the majesty and sublime grandeur of 98 HELPS TO THE STUDY. many of its passages. The Bible should never be read id a trifling, careless manner, but always with expression and solemnity. Its extreme importance demands a style suited to the correct rendition of its grand truths. With reverence should we approach the holy volume, and in a proper manner give expression to its inspired sentences. The following may be mentioned as among the be* examples for practice: Exodus xv., Psalms xxiii. ana xxiv. , Ecclesiastes xii., Isaiah xxxv. and iv., Matthew vi., 26-34, I. Corinthians xv., and Revelation xxii. GESTURE. Elocution may be divided into two pares j that which is heard, and that which is seen. The former is called Voice; the latter. Gesture. Both are important and indispensable to its proper study. We speak {Elocutio, to speak out) by our words and by our manner. The manner may be so out of harmony that it entirely contradicts the words, and an idea is conveyed directly opposite to that intended. It is important, then, that we study manner as well as matter. A pleasing style of delivery adds much to the effectiveness of a production, and in this gesture plays an important part. It is absolutely essential to the per- fect success of vocal delivery that it be accompanied by a manner that will not provoke criticism, nor in any way draw the hearer's attention from the thought uttered. It should rather aid that thought by conveying to the eye what the voice sends to the ear. Gesture should always be an assistant, never a hindrance as it certainly is when not properly used. Those who naturally employ many gestures should learn how to correctly use them ; those who use but few should cultivate the use of more by making themselves familiar with the laws that govern intell'^^'ent gesticulation. Gesture forms a natural language, but no exact rules can be given for its practice, though we may consider the principles upon which it is based. (See pages 43-45.) The question arises, How much attention should we pay this subject? Certainly not as much as is given to the voice, for all will admit that it is of less importance. Few HELPS TO THE STUDY. 99 will agree as to its exact relative importance. Nationali- ties differ on this point as well as do individuals. People of Southern countries, as the French, Italians and Spanish, employ many more gestures than the less vivacious inhabi- tants of the North, such as the English, the Danes, Swedes and Esquimaux. The subject certainly should receive much attention, that we may accompany our voices with appropriate and pleasing gestures. Inappropriate gesticulation detracts much from the success of a speaker; study sx\A practice are required to overcome our natural deficiencies and secure a polished manner. Excellent practice is afforded by repeating the words " High I Low! Left! Eight!'' using the left hand on the third word and the right hand on the others. Also, count " One, two, three," etc., using free find graceful gestures on each word. Double Gestures have the same significance as single gestures. They are used for variety, and greater effect and force. In speaking, do not employ one hand exclu- sively, but occasionally use the other, to avoid sameness. Much value may be derived from the careful use of a SELECTION WITH SET GESTURES. Note. — In the following exercise the letters refer to the direction as given on patjes 43-45. All are to be given with supine hand unless otherwise designated. THE MISER AND PLUTUS. The wind is high — the window shakes ; Dbl. A.O. H.L. Pointing Right. With sudden start the miser wakes ! H.O. Vertical. H.O. Along the silent room he stalks; H.F.toO. . . . {^Gesture sustained.") Looks back and trembles as he walks ! Head and eyes left. Dbl. H, O. {tremor.) 100 HELPS TO THE STUDY. Lach lock, and ev'ry holt he tries, D.O. Pointing. D.L. Pointing. Tr. ev'ry crack and corner pries ; H.O.Lefi. . . H.O.Dbl. Then opes his chest with treasure stored, D.O. {Gesture of Illustration.) And stands in rapture o'er his hoard. Dbl. A.F, Vert, {forearm only.) But now with sudden qualms possessed, (Both hands to Right.) Dbl. H.L. Vertical. He wrings his hands — ^he beats his breast ; {Illustration.) {Illustration.) By conscience stung he wildly stares ; Illustration. { Over right shoulder^ nd thus his guilty soul declares : Hands crossed on breast. Had the aeep earth her stores confined, Dbl. D.O. This heart had known sweet peace of mind; Right hand on heart. Dbl. A. O. But virtues sold 1 Good gods, what price Dbl. D.O. Prone. Dbl. H.L. Can recompense the pangs of vice ? Dbl. D.O. Prone. O, bane o{ good I seducing cheat t Dbl. H.O. Prone Can man, weak man, thy power defeat? Same, but D. Gold banished honor from the mind, Dbl. H.L. Vtrt. HELPS TO THE STUDY. 101 And only left the name behind; DM. H.F. Gold sowed the world with ev'ry ill ; Dbl. H.L. Gold taught the murd'rer's sword to kill ; Hand raised to slrike, Dbl. D. O, Prone 'Twas gold instructed coward hearts H.O. In treachery's more pernicious arts. D.B. Prone. Who can recount the mischief o'er? Dbl. H.O. Virtue resides on earth no more! Dbl. A. O. Dbl H.L. THE THREE FORMS OF SPEECH. I. Conversation. — This is the simplest form of speech, and it is the most natural. In conversation we are our- selves, and we use no forced, unnatural style of utterance. Without previous study we speak those words that come most readily to the lips. It has been truly said that if we wish to know what we are, we have only to look at our speech and behold ourselves. Let us always endeavor in conversation to express (i) the best thoughts {2) in our best manner, (3) avoiding those subjects not of general interest to our listeners, (4) using the best language at command, and thereby eleva- ting our thought and our expression. II. Reading. — In conversation, our ideas are evolved fronj our own minds, clothed in our own words, and given forth in our own manner. In reading, the thought may be the same and the manner the same, though the phra- seology may differ. This difference of words, however, may be overcome by familiarizing ourselves with the pro- 102 HELPS TO THE STUDY. duction. But, in reading our own composition, we arc too liable to fall into a reading tone — an unnatural mode of expression. Tliis droning process causes the hearer to lose a large portion of the thought, which he would re- ceive were the reading inteiligent instead of mechanical. In emotional reading, he receives all the thought, and it is intensified in its conveyance to him. Emotional read- ing might be compared to the refraction of light through a lens; it is concentrated and rendered powerful. Me- chanical reading may be compared to light reflected from a mirror; a large percentage of it is lost in the process of reflection. Remember that the only office of the printed or written page in reading is to furnish you with the thought that you are to convey to others. Let your mind receive this; then express it, idea by idea (not word by word), in the same manner that you would if it were original with you. When you desire to read well, be sure to previously familiarize yourself with (a) the words, (b) arrangement of paragraphs, and (c) logical connection of all the thoughts contained in the piece of reading. Always hold your book or paper in such a way that you can readily take in the whole line at once. Allow the letters to be about fourteen inches from the eye, not directly below, nor horizontal with the eye, but half-way between these two positions. Look off the book as much as possible. in. Public Speaking. — This is conversation magni- fied. The same forms of voice are employed as in con- versation; the difference lies in a symm«?trical enlargement of the sentences. In this, do not dutcrt, but preserve the form in its simplicity, and yovt wili have it in its greatest purity and power. (See iUustrations of Quality on page 85). Apply all rulias of elocution and rhetoric to your conversation, ard you wiii have the form best suited to public address. Alwai/s make a marked distinction between the conver- sa.tional (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 cure 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 youi 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 elocut'->n find a practical application in every- day life. Ever> sentence we utter, every word we speak, every tone of the voice, and 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 on common principles and emDlov similar rules. 104 HELPS TO THE STUDY. We. (vill 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 voice 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 HELPS TO THE STUDY. IQo not gesticulate too much 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 ACTIOK. 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 mere 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- *' ' \ to the stage, and to show wherei_n lies the dlfferenrf 106 HELPS TO THE 6TUDY. 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 siep 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 pride throws the body backward. The Head and Eyes. — The head is raised in arro- gance, inclined \\\ languor or indiffeience, and hung in sha Tie. 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 m.iy take the following positions: Hollow, Holding ox Grasping (^ccoxd^mg 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 right hand laid successively upon first and other fingers Ok. ':he left. HELPS TO THE STUDY. 107 I'he Arms may be Folded {crosscA and enclosing each other), A-kimbo (one or both hands on hips, elbows ex- tended at one or both sides), Heposed {e\\)0-vi% 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 advanced and by a gentle stroke depressed), Projecting (arm thrust forward in the direction in which the hand may be pointing), .^f/rtrcZ/w^ (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), depressing (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), Collecting (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 i.^LPS TO rz/iff STUDY. For convenient 'eference we append the following LIST OF IMPERSONATIONS, Etc. Irish Jimmy Butler and the Owl J'"a'' ■ '60 Bridget as a School-Teacher 17I' Orator Puff. 23O Irishwoman's Letter 25^ Mibs Malony on the Chinese Question 293 Shanius O'Brien (Dignified Irish) 351 A Day at Niagara 408 Negro : Uncle Dan'l's Apparition 200 Christmas Night in the Quarters 361 Yankee : Laughing in Meeting 32.) Betsey and I are Out 355 Spanish : The Spanish Duel 129 Scotch : Charlie Machree 268 John and Tibbie's Dispute 341 Relief of Lucknow 345 The Annuity 380 fiemale : How Jamie Came Home tJi The Burning Ship 186 Mother and Poet 261 Charlie Machree (Scotch) 268 Ifa/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 Rebel 3S9 r/ELFS 70 THE S7UD\. Jo;) Man, Woman, und Boy : Mona's Waters , /Wif I •?Q Man and Boy : Painter of Seville 167 Child: Nobody's Child ,^0 Little Jim 239 Annie and Willie's Prayer 253 Wreck of the Hesperus , 307 Katie Lee and Willie Gray oi5 Old Age : The Model Church 265 Waiting for the Children 317 Granny's Trust 377 Ffehlcness : Magdalena 120 The Miner's Death 227 Spectral : The Famine 142 Alonzo and Imogine Ih4 Charaeler : The Vagabonds 204 The Revolutionary Rising 213 Major Slott's Visitor 216 The Rum Maniac 220 The Gracious Answer 22^ The Miner's Death 227 Orator Puff 230 Old Times and New 244 Order for a Picture 2^7 Our Folks 2t)t. Horatius 295 How He Saved St. Michael's 3°' Archie Dean 33° Independence Bell J.iS Betsey and I are Out 355 On the Ice 36? Kentucky Belle 37^ The Demon Ship 375 Dawn of Redemption i^i Saracen Brothers 3^4 How " Ruby" Played 403 liO HELPS To THE STU£>Y. Calling Voice: The High Tide Page . 117 The Famine 142 Burning of Chicago 146 Attacli 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, ..,,,.,,,,,,,,, 378 Vocal Exercises : Passing Away 127 The Inquiry 172 Belfry of Ghent 179 Face Against the Pane 183 Great Bell Roland 191 The Three Bells 199 Cataract of Lodore 234 The Bells 240 Creeds of the Bells 250 Rock of Ages 264 Bugle Song. ... , 272 Tevtperance 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 Ruru , , , , 389 PART IV. Readings ATO Recitals (Ul) ' 'Tis not enough the voice be sound and clear; '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 unimpassiontd woes Can only make the yawning hearers doze. The voice all modes of passion can express, 'fiat marks the proper %\ord with proper stress. 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 w ith rant and roar." Lloyd. (lit) Rrahings and "Recitals. NIGHTFALL. fThis exquisite p(?etical gem sl.iuVl be given in the effusive form of voice, gentle force — as in a dreamy reverie. Play upon th» words, and bring ou' »heir 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. 114 SEADINCS AMD RECIIALS. 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 YEAR. [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 light, the moonbeams rust Like a pale, spotless shroud ; the air is stirred As by a mourner's sigli ; 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 form. And Winter with his aged locks — and breathe, In mournful cadences that come abroad Like the far wind-harp's wild and touching wail, A melancholy dirge o'er the dead year. Gone from the Earth forever. READINGS AND RECITALS. 115 'Tis a time For iiicmury and for tears. Within the deep, Still chamber^ of the heart, a spectre dim, Whose tones are like the wizard voice of Time Heard from the tomb of ages, points its ti M 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 cofiin-lid of Hope, and Joy, and Love, And, bending mournfully above the pale. Sweet form* that slumber there, scatters dead flowers O'er what has passed to nothingness. The year Has gone, and, with it, many a gloiious 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 pass'id 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 him in his silent course, or melt His iron heart to pity ? 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. )ilG READINGS AXD RECITALS. Revolutions sweep O'er eartli, like troubled visions o'er the breast Of dreamini^ 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, emitter a while in their eternal depths, And, like the Pleiad, loveliest of their train, Slioot from their glorious spheres, and pass away To darkle in the trackless void : yet Time — Time, the tomb-builder, holds his fierce rarc-er, Hark, stern, all pitiless, and pauses not Amid the mighty wrecks that strew his path, To sit and muse, like other conquerors, Lpon the fearful ruin he has wrought. Georgk D. Prentice. THK ISLE OF LONG AGO. [Employ a clear, pure, oxpressise 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. 'iow 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, ^Vhere 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. READI.\CS Aa\D KECITALS. 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 su !- There are trinkets and tresses of hair: There arc 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 rings, And th» garments that she used to wear. There are hands that are waved, when the fairy 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, All the day of our life till night — \Vhen the evening comes with its beautiful smile, ^'Vnd our eyes are closing to slumber awhiK-, May that " Greenwood" of Soul be in sight ! B. F. Taylor. THE HIGH TIDE; OR, THE BRIDES OP BNDERBY. [All incident of Lincolnshire, 1571. The piece should be given in a natuial, 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 ma)or 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 IJoslon 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! 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 cloveis 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 Ijcginne 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), 'lii.it riit^ tilt* lune of Eiulcrhy. PLEADINGS AND 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 liell 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 where the goodly vessels lie, And whlre the lordly steeple shows. They sayde, " And why should this thing t 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 Vviest bin red to see, And storms be 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 welliin rang again, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth.) " 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 marked her long; And ere yon bells beganne to pla\", Afar I heard her milking song." He looked across the grassy sea. To right, to left, " Ho Endeib)' They rang " The Brides of Enderby I" 120 READINGS 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. ]l 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 oure 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 j 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! my love, Elizabeth." And didst thou visit him no more ? Thou didst, thou did^t, 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. READIXGS AND RECITALS. VS That flow strewed wrecks about the grass, That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea ; A fat.il ebbe and flow, alas! To manye more than myne and me : But each will mourn his own (she saiih). And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath 1 han my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth. I shall nev:r hear her more By the reedy Lindis shore, "Cusha, Cusha, Cusha!" calling, Ere the early dews be falling; I shall never hear her song, " Cusha, Cusha 1" all along. Where the sunny Lindis floweth, Goeth, floweth ; From the meads where melick groweth. When the water, winding down. Onward floweth 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; 1 shall never hear her calling, " Leave your meadow grasses mellow. Mellow, mellow; Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow ; Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot; 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 OP A GOD. ["The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God."] Go out beneath the arched heavens at night, and say, if you can, "Ihereisno God!" Pronounce that dreadful blasphemy, and each star above you will reproach the unbroken darkness of your intellect; every voice that 122 READIi\GS 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; in the deep-toned thunder, and in the earthquake's shock; 'tis declared to us when the tempest lowers — when the hurricane stveeps 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 HEADINGS AND KECUALS. 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 uiost 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. (^Dtucly 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 the vile question startles in dismay; And, tossing mad against earth's impious clod, iTnpatient thunders — yes, there is a God ! 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. h there no God? The dying Christian's hand. Pale with disease, points to a belter land; And, ere his body mingles with the sod. He, sweetly smiling, softly murmurs — God. 12'1 READINGS AND RECITALS. N.> God ! Wlio 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. Jeliovnh's name is blazoned on the sky, Tlie 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, vvliose pearly bosom ocean laves, 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. [Oi^portunity is here afforded for great variety in expression, froiv, 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 touck Of Death's cold fingers — when upon the eailh -Shroudless and coffinless Death's first-born lay, Slain by the hand cf violence, the wail READINGS AND RECITALS. 126 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 e.ir : " Where is thy brother?" Every sight and sound Will mind thee of the lost. I saw a man 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 ! little recks it where His bloated form was given to the woiin^. 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 pa.ssed, and weeds and tangled briers grew Above that sunken grave, and men forg»t Who slept there. '2G READINGS A AD RECITALS. Once had he friends, A happy home was his, and love was his. Ills Mary loved him, and around him played His smiling children. O, a dream of joy Were lliose 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 : " < >iir Father, bless the poor, And save the templed 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 sunuhine 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 coronil of glory low. A happy home was ruined ; want and woe I'iayed 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 W^ent 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 w.as 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 nowl Lives he still — if dead, still where is he? Where? In heaven? Go read the sacred page ; " \o drunkard ever shall inherit there." Who sent him to the pit ? Who dragged him 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. 1.7 " 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 maHijnant siiilis a soul to hell. E. Evws EDWJons. PASSING AWAY. [Let the voice be as clear and silvery as possible, especially in the ■efrain.] 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 tliat 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 !" 3ut, no; it was not a fairy's shell, lilown on the beach so mellow and clear : .\^or 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 HECITALS. 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, und 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 Ijlossoming 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 wlieels 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 first 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 !" While yet I looked, what a change there came ! Her eye was quenched, and her cheek was wan ; Stooping and staflfed was her withered frame. Vet 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 ! passing awa's !" PlERPONT. READINGS AXD 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 shake-«- Than I he ocean murmuring o'er Pebbl«-s on the foamy shore. Orphaned both of sire and mother D»felt she in that lonely villa; Absent now her guardian brother 0»i a mission from Sevilla. Skil's it little now the telling How I wooed that maiden fair. Tracked her to her lonely dwelling And obtained an entrance there. Ah,! that lady of the villa ! And I loved her so, Near the city of Sevilla, Years and year* ago. Ay de ml ! — 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 llinv the shadows, spreading over, Like a veil of silver gray. Toned the golden clouds, sun-paintcci. Till ihey 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 prints her crescent Underneath Madonna's feet. And we sat outside the villa Where the waters flow Down to the city of Rl\ ilia — Years and years ago. There we sat — the mighty river Wound its serpent course along — Silent, dreamy Guadalquivcr, Fansed in many a song. Silver gleaming 'mid the plain ^'ellow with the golden grain, Gliding down through deep, rich meadows, Where the sated cattle rove, Stealing underneath the shadows Of the verdant olive grove; With its plenitude of waters. Ever flowing calm and slow, Lo\ed by Andalusia's daughters. Sung by poets long ago. Seated half within a bower. Where the languid evening breeze Shook out odors in a shower From oranges and citron tree , Sang she from a romancero, How a Moorish chieftain bold Fought a Spanish caballero By Sevilla's walls of old,— READINGS AND RECITALS. \Z\ IIow 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 sibe ? 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?" " 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 J 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 HEADINGS 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 vfhither — who knows ? III. " 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 feel-ng 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, dearest, hear me," Sighed I, as I seized her hand — " H61a ! Senor," very near me, Cries a voice of stern command. And a stalwart caballero 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 goodness 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," S.iid I to him, wiih a frown; " Mucha bulla para nada. No pilabras, draw your 'spada; If you're up for a duello. You will find I'm just your fellovf— Senor, I am Petkr Brown !" READINGS AND RECITALS. By tlie river's bank that night, Foot to foot in strife, Fought we in the dubious light A fight of death or life. 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 ! Kneeling down, I raised his headj The caballero faintly said, " Signer 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 relumed ? Was he some former lover spurned ? Or some family y?a«ri That the lady did not fancy ? Was he any one of those ? • Sabe Dios. Ah ! God knows. Sa8ly smoking my manilla. Much I long to know How fares the lady of the villa That once charmed me so. When I visited Sevilla Years and years ago. Has she married a Hidalgo? Gone the way that ladies all go In those drowsy Spanish cities. Wasting life — a thousand pities — Waking up for a fiesta From an afternoon siesta, To " Giralda" now repairing, Or the Plaza for an airing ; At the sh.nlcd reja flirting, At a bull-fight now disporting; Does she walk at evenings ever Through the gardens by the river? Guarded by an old duenna Fierce and sharp as a hyena. With her goggles and her fan Warning off each wicked man? Is she dead, or is she living? Is she for my absence grieving ? Is she wretched, is she happy? Widow, wife, or maid? Quien sabe ? NEW ENGLAND WBATHBIl. [At a New England dinner in New York, Mark Twain delivered the following speech, amidst frequent interruptions — of laughter and applause.] I reverently believe that the Maker who made us all makes everything in New England but the weather. I don't know who makes that, but I think it must be raw 136 READINGS AND RECITALS. apprentices in the Weather Clerk's factory, who experiment and learn how, in New England, for board and clothes, and then are promoted to make weather for countries that require a good article and will take their custom elsewhere, if they don't get it. There is a sumptuous variety about the New England weather that compels the stranger's admiration — and regret. The weather is always doing something there, always at- tending strictly to business, always getting up new designs and trying them on the people to see how they will go. But it gets through more business in the spring than in any other season. In the spring I have counted 136 dif- ferent kinds of weather inside of four and twenty hours. It was I that made the fame and fortune of that man that had that marvelous collection of weather on exhibition at the Centennial that so astounded the foreigners. He was going to travel all over the world and get specimens from all climes. I said, " Don't you do it; you come to New England on a favorable spring day." I told him what we could do in the way of style, variety, and quantity. Well, he came, and he made his collection in four days. As to variety; why, he confessed he got hundreds of kinds of weather that he had never heard of before. And as to quantity; well, after he had picked out and discarded all that were blemished in any way, he not only had weather enough, but weather to spare ; weather to hire out; weather to sell ; weather to deposit; weather to in- vest ; weather to give to the poor. The people of New England are by nature patient and forbearing ; but there are some things that they will not stand. Every year they kill off a lot of poets for writing about "Beautiful Spring." These are generally casual visitors, who bring their notions of spring from somewhere else, and cannot, of course, know how the natives feel about spring. And so, the first thing they know, the opportunity to inquire how they feel has permanently gone by. Old Probabilities has a mighty reputation for accurate prophecy, and thoroughly well deserves it. You take up the papers and observe how crisply and confidently he checks off what to-day's weather is going to be on the Pacific, down South, in the Middle States, in the Wis- READINGS AND RECITALS. 137 cousin region, see him sail along in the joy and pride of his power till he gets to New England, and then . He doesn't know what the weather is to be in New England. He can't any more tell than he can tell how many Presi- dents of the United States there are going to' be. Well, he mulls over it, and by and by he gets out something like this : " Probable 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 j 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 m.ay 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 for 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 youi 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 s.iy, "Why, what awful thunder you have here!" But when \!r^t 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 iiiigland — 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 tlie 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 dazzlinj: jewels, and it stands there the acme, the climax, the supremest possibility in art or nature of bewildering, intoxicating, intolerable magnificence ! One cannot make the words too strong. IMonth after month I lay up hate and grudge against the New England weather; but when the ice storm comes at last, I say, "There, I forgive you now; the books are square between i>s; yo'i don't owe me a cent; go and sin no more; your lictle faults and foibles count for nothing; you are the most en' Jianting weather in the world." S. L. Clemens. KE/WJNGS AND RECxTALS. 139 MONA'S WATERS. [Great variety in expression — light to grand description. Avoid monofony.] Oh ! Mona's waters are blue and bright When the sun shines out lilic a g.-iy young lover; But Mona's waves are darli as night When the face of heaven is clouded over. The 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 wrathlul 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 inu^t put his boat across (Gold shall repay his hour of danger). And bring me back, 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: " I do but pay a vassal's duty; Fear not for me, O mother dear ! See how the boat the tide is spurning; The storm will cease, the sky will clear. And thou wilt watch me safe returning." 140 READINGS AND RECITALS. His bark shot on — now up, now down. Over the waves — the snowy-crested; Now like a dart it sped along. Now liUe 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 strenmins; eyes, That fragile bark's uncertain sading. 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 pa^^t, the waves grew calm, The thunder died along the mountain; But where was he who u ed 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 furtress tower. Frown on ! frown on ! I fejr 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 tomorrow ? 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 crying; " The fair-haired lienuly 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 ami wail I'he morrow. Her faint brealh ceased ; the father bent And gazed upon his fair-haired daughter. Whit thought he on ? The widow's son. And the stormy night by Mona's water. 9 J 42 READINGS AND RECITALS. THE FAMINE. [The greeting of the guests, the prayer, the echo, the visions, and the tenor of the dying Minnehaha, the wailing of Nokomis, and the parting svords 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 walU'd he through the forest. Sought for bird or beast 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 me! I am Famine, Bukadawin !" And the other said : " Behold met I am Fever, Ahkosewin !" And the lovely Minnehaha 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 ulter'd. READINGS AND RECITALS, 14J 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, Minjekahwur., Into the vast and vacant forest On his 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 Fatherl Give us food, or we must perish 1 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 thickets. In the pleasant days of Summer, Of that ne'er forgotten Summer, He had brought his yoang 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 wns full of fragrance. And the lovely Laughing Water Said with voice that did not tremble, " I will follow you, my husband 1" 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 !" she said, " I hear a rushing. Hear a roaring and a rushing. Hear the Falls of Minnehaha 144 READINGS AND RECITALS. Calling to me from a distance !" " 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!" " Ah !" she said, " the eyes of Pauguk 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 !" Over snow-fields waste and pathless. Under snow-encumber'd branches. Homeward hurried Hiawatha, Empty-handed, heavy-hearted, Heard Nokomis moaning, wailing : " Wahonowin ! Wahonowin ! Would that I had perish'd for you. Would that I were dead as you are ! Wahonowin! AVahonowin!" 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 Uller'd such a cry of anguish. That the forest moan'd and shudder'd That the very stars in heaven Shock and trembled with his anguish. Then he sat down still and speechless. On the bed of Minnehaha, At the feet of I^aughing Water, At those willing feet, that n«ver 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 daylight or the darkness. Then they buried Minnehaha; Ilj the snow a grave they made her. In the forest deep and darksome, Underneath 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 Mmnehaha. 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 Blessed. From his doorway Hiawatha Saw it burning in the forest, Lighting up the gloomy hemlocks ; From his sleepless bed uprising. From the bed of Minnehaha, Stood and watch'd it at the doorway. That it might not be exlinguish'd, Might not 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 w aste the body. Soon my task will be completed. Soon your footsteps I shall follow To the Islands of the Blessed, To the Kingdom of Pcmemah, To the Land of the Hereafter !" H. W. Longfellow 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 » valuable exercise for practice.] 'Twas night in the beautiful city, I'he famous and wonderful city. The proud and magnificent city, The Queen of the North and the West. The riches of nations were gathered 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, the 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 worshipping 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 v.'ith pain and with sin, The outcast, who yearningly waited to hear the glad bidding, " Come in;" READINGS AND RECITALS. 147 And thus went they quielly homeward, with sins and omissions con- fessed, In spire-adorned, templed Chicago, the Queen of the North and the West. 'Twas night in the sin-burdened city, Tlie turbulent, vice-laden city. The sin-compassed, rogue-haunted city, Thoygh Queen of the North and the West. And low in their caves of pollution great beasts of humanity growled. And over his money-strewn table the gambler bent fiercely, and scowled ; And men with no seeming of manhood, with countenance flaming and fell. Drank 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, Shmk, 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 was placidly resting in slumber untroubled and deep ; And softly the mother was fondling her innocent baby to sleep; And maidens 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 ; But 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 RECITALS. 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-s.icrificed city. Doomed Queen of the North 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 shrieking, " Rouse up in your strength and your ire ! For many a year they have chained you, and crushed 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 pride and renown ! Charge straight on her mansions of splendor, and batter her battlements 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 West!" 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 tempests 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 sieeple and spire ; And beautiful, glorious Chicago, the ciiy of riches and fame. Was swept by a storm of destrU' tion, was flooded bv billows of flame. The Fire-king loomed high in 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 VII. Then swiftly the quick-breathing city, The fearful and punic-struck city, The startled and lire-deluged city. Rushed back from the South and the West, y-ind loudly the fire-bells were clanging, and ringing their funeral notes ; And loudly wild accents of terror came pealing from thousands of throats ; And loud was the wagon's deep rumbling, and loud the wheel's clatter and creak ; And loud was the calling for succor from those who were sightless 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 'oofs and of walls as they fell. And louder, yet louder, the roaring that told of the coming of hell. The Fire-king threw back his 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 nf the North and the West. Hut down from the West came the bidding, " O Queen, lift in courage thy head ! Thy friends and thy neighbors awaken, and hastL-n, with raiment and bread I" 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 suffering here !'' And up from the East came the bidding, " O City, be dauntless and bold ! Look hither for food and for raiment — look hither for credit and gold !" And all through the world went the bidding, " Bring hither your choicest and best. For weary and hungry Chicago — sad Queen of the North and the West!" 150 READINGS AND RECITALS. O cvubheil, 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 fling grandly our nation's proud flag to the skies ! From off the wide praries of splendor the treasures of Autumn shall |iour. The breezes shall sweep from thS Northward, and hurry the ships to thy shore ! For Heaven will look downward in mercy on those 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. iWOBODY'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, Hungiy and shivering, and nowhere to go; The niglit'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 wnrnith, 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 J 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 wiih 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. Phii.a II. Case. 152 READINGS AND RECITALS. MAUD MULLER. [Simple conversational style ; avoid rhythm.] Maud Muller, 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 merry 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 fiowed 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 the west would bring foul weather. READINGS AND RECITALS. 153 And Maud forgot her brier-lorn 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 MuUer 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 poor. And all sliould bless me who left our door." The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill. And saw M.iud 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 rights 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. 15 i READ I-XCS AND RECITALS. But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, \\'hen 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 wedded a wife of richest dower, Who lived for fashion as he for power. Yrt oft, in his maible 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 maiilen 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 I;ot On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot. And she heard the Utile spring brook fall Over the roadside, through the wall — In the shade of the apj^le-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 o«ly, " It might have been !" Alas for maiden, alas for Judge, For rich repiner and liousehold 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 !" 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 uway ! John G. Whittier. " CURFEW MUST NOT KING TO-NIGHT." [This touching incident in English history should be read with' ut formality of manner, in which case it makes a choice reading. Study variety.] England'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 vi\\\\ 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 the prison old, With its walls so dark and gloomy— 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 dart ; " Long, long years I've rung the Curfew from that gloomy shadowed tower ; Every evening, just at sunset, it has tolled the twilight hour; I have done my duty ever, tried to do it just and right. Now I'm old, I will not miss it; girl, the Curfew rings 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 ; She had listened while 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 church door, Left the old man coming slowly, paths he'd trod so oft before ; Not one moment paused the maiden, but with cheek and brow aglow, Staggered up the gloomy tower, where the bell swung to and fro; Then she climbed the slimy ladder, dark, wiihout one ray of light, Upward still, her pale lips saying: " Curfew s/iat/ nol ring to-night." She has reached the topmost ladder, o'er her hangs the great dark bell, And the awful gloom beneath her, like the pathway down to hell ; See, the ponderous tongue is swinging, 'tis 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 — " Cuifew shall ttot ring to-night !" Out she swung, far out, the city seemed a tiny speck below ; 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 Basil's funeral knell; Still the maiden clinging firmly, cheek and brow so pale and white, Stilled her frightened heart's wild beating — " Cui/ew 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 Should be told in long years after — as the rays of setting sun Light the sky with njellow beauty, aged sires with heads of white Tell their children why the Curlew did not ring that one sad night. O'er the distant hills came Cromwell ; Bessie saw him, and her brow. Lately while with sidtening 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 wiih misty light ; "Go, your lover lives!" cried Cromwell; " Curfew shall not ring to- night." THE BURIAL OF MOSES. " And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre to this day." — Deut. 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 cosily 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 stale 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 ngain — O wondrous thought!— Before the judgment day, And stand, with glory wrapped around, On the hills he never trod. And spe»k 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 of grace,— 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 barbecue, witli 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 singj 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 thing 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 demon's drink, ALCOHOL?" A shout, like the roar of a tempest, answered. Nor John £. 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 from the " ould sod," and wid a light heart and a heavy bundle I sot off 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 r-ake his place that night, so I inquired the way at the tav«rn, and was lucky to find a man who was goin' part of the way an' would show me the way to find Dennis. Sure he w<»s very kind indade, an' when I got out of his wagon he pointed me through the wood and tould me to go straight sou'h a mile an' a half, snd the first house would be Dennis's. "An' you've no tim<; to lose now," said be, " for the sun is low, and mind yoif dc*n'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 ^cross the thrackless say ! Not a bit of it. though I'm oblcep;ed to ye for your kind advice, and thank yiz for the ride." An' wid that he drove off ao' left me alone. I shouldered me bundle bravely, an' whisdin' 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 nigh 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 divsrsion of me. By this time it was growin' dark, and a? there was no time to lose, I started in a second time, determined to keep straight south this time, and no mistake. 1 ^ot. on bravely for a while, but och hone! och hone! it got so dark I couldn't see the trees, and I bumped 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 .1 trimble, to think that I was lost intirely, an' that maybe a Honor some other wild craythur would devour me before morning. Just then I heard somebody a long way off say, " Whip poor Will! Whip poor Will ! " "Bedad," sez I, " I'm glad it is't Jamie that's got to take it, though it's more J) 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 help me 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?" " Wlio ! 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 I Whooo ! " sez he again. "Me mother! " 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 breakin' me neck wid the fall. When I came to me sinsis I had a very sore head wid 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 awhile, 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 the 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 house, 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 ijurty a pair of gurls as iver je 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. ALONZO THE BRAVE, AND THE PAIE IMOGINE. [Aspirate and Pectoral qualities of voice are here employed.] A warrior so bo!d, and a virgin so bright, Conversed as they sat on the green ; They gazed on each other with lender delight : Alonzo the Brave was the name of the l^night. 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, " Oflfensive to love and to me ; For, if you be livmg, 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 I 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 vows ; 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 marriage been blest by the priest; The revelry now was begun : The tables they groaned wuh 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 uiteied 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 bosoms appeared to dismay; The guests sat in silence and fear ; At length spake the bride — 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 out» 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 !" ]6(J 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 Imogine 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 apparel 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 spectres are seen; Their liquor is blood, and this horrible stave They howl : " To the health of Alonzo the Brave, And his consort, the Fair Imogine !" I \ OVER THE BIVER. [Employ the effusive form, and avoid ihythm.J Over the river they beckon to me — Loved ones who've crossed to the further side; The gleam of iheir snowy robes I see, But their voices are drowned in the rushing tide. There's one with ringlets of sunny gold. And eyes, the reflection of heaven's own blue; lie crossed in the twilight, gray and cold. And the pale 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 boatman pale Carried anothpr — the household pet ; Her brown curls waved in the gentle 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 dif) of the golden oars, And catch a gleam of the snowy sail — • And lo! 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 ; Yet 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 68 READINGS AND RECITALS. Muvillo, the famed painter, came to sliaie With young aspirants his long-cherished art, To prove how vain must be the teacher's care \Vho 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 giace— 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 Who to his aid such power can call," Exclaimed the teacher, eagerly, " Will yet be master of us all , Would I had done it ! — Ferdinand 1 Isturitz, Mendez ! — say, whose hand Among ye all ? " — With half-breathed sigh. Each pupil answered — " 'Twas not 1 1 " ' How came it then ? " impatiently Murillo cried ; " but we shall see Ere long into this mystery. Sebastian 1 " At the summons came A bright-eyed slave. Who trembled at the stern rebuke His m.-ister 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 dungeoncell. READINGS AND RECITALS. 169 " Thou answerest not," Munllo said ; (The boy had stood in speechless fear.) " Speak on !" — At last he raised his head, And murmured, " No one has been here." " ' Tis false 1" 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 whosetold hand, 'tis yours to show ; See that 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 — all 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 daik hue Proclaimed the warm blood flowing through Each throbbing vein, a mingled tide. To Africa and Spain allied. "Alas ! what fate is mine !" 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. j;0 KEADIXGS AND KECITALS. " I'll sleep no more !" he cried; "and now, Three hours of freedom I may gain Before my master comes J 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 softened glow ; Gazing enraptured on the sight He cried, " Shall I efface it?— No ! That breathing lip ! that beaming eye ! 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 brow — 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 'twas finished ; rapturously He gazed — could aught more beauteous be !- Awhile absorbed, entranced he stood. Then started — horror chilled his blood 1 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, Uefore that Virgin's head you drew ?" Again he answered, " Only you." " I gave you none," Murillo cried! " But I have lieard," 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? Reward 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 reward — what shall i be? Name what you wish, I'll not refuse : Then speak at once and fearlessly." " Oh ! if I dared !" — Sebastian knelt, And feelings he could not control (But feared to utter even then) With strong emotion shook his soul. " Courage !" 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 yom freedom .'" — 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 1" " 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 feelin;; jjassed his hps, 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 INQUIRT. [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 spnt 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 InuH wind dwindled to a whisper low, And sigh'd for pity as it answer'd — " No." Tell me, thou mi[;hty deep, whose billows round me play, Know'sl 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 l"ud wnvt-s. rollintj in perpetual tlow, Stopp'J for awhile, and sigh'd to answer — " No." And fhon. serenesi moon, that, with such lovely face, Dost look upon the earth, asleep in night's embrace; Tell me, in all thy routid ha^t thou nrit sren some spot Where niisernhle man mitrbt find a happier lot? Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in -woe, And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded — " No." Tell me, my secret s^ul ; oh ! tell me, Hope and Faith, Is there no resting-place from sorrow, sin, and death ? Is there no happv spot where moitals may be bless'd. Where grief may find a balm, and weariness a rest? Faiih, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given. Waved their bright wings, and whisper'd — " Yes, in Heaven." Charles Mackav. 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 plejst our Jamie's mouth and eye; For Jamie is our all, you know. The re^t have perished long ago ! He's coming fnim the wars to-night. And his bhie eyes vvil' sparkle bright. And his (,ld smile will play right free, His old loved home agam to see. I say for 't ! 'twas a cur'us thing Thai Jamie was nut maimed or killed! P'ive were tne years. With hojies and fears, And gloomy, hopeless tidings filled ; And many a ni^hl the jiast five year, We've lain wiihin our cottage here, And while the rilill-^torm 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 1 Five were the years. With bliiod and tears, With cruel, bloody battles filled; And many a morn, the pn^t five year. We've knelt around our fireside here. And while we thoufjr.t of bleeding ones. Our blazing towns and smoking guns. We've thttuijht of him and breathed a prayer That God would keep him in His care. Nay, Addie, girl, just come away, Touch nut a dish upon the shelf I Mother well knows Just how it goes. Mother shall set it :ill 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; 'I'hough 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 we conversed of him. And he shall tell us of his fights. 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 door! 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 ? What ! DRUNK ! 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 — Fluslied 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 ! 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 [iray. Will M. Carleton. 176 JiEADfXGS AND RECITALS. BRIDGET AS A SCHOOL-TEACHER. [The following and other selections are taken, by permission of the author, from that humorous boolc 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 entered 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 my 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 ! 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? What 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, liowever, 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 that boys could be taught history better than in any other way by 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 retaliated with a volley of books, slates, and chewed paper- balls. Barnes 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 latter, 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 iive minutes they chased the entire Carthaginian army out of the 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 they 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. Then 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 thrashed that great military genius with a ratt&n until Scipio began to cry, whereupon Barnes dropped 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. The boys do not now take as much interest in Roman history as they did on that day. Max Adeler. THE BELPSY OF 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 heiglit I looked below me. Saw the quaint old city lie, Full of glorious recollections. Climbing up to memory. 180 READINGS AND RECITALS. Toilsome was the steep ascending, By tliat broken flight of stairs ; But the end was like the pleasure Oft derived from weary cares ; Like the steps that lift us upward To the aim we ha\e designed; Like the stages leading onward To the things we seek to find. From that nohle height of vision, To tliat distant azure sky, Thrill, my heart, the swelling anthem, Taught and tuned by memory ! Celebrate the deeds of glory; Sing ihe heart- that throbbed and beat; Sing the hands that stayed the throbbing; Songs like these, my harp, repeat ! Tell the days of ancient heroes. On a nobler errand Si.ni — Old Sainl B.ivon, once a soldier, Now the patron saint of Ghent. Show the tomb 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 yo tell that Time is passing, Ye are what ye ever were ! Yes, ihe same sad midnij^lit chiming, Yes, the selfsame peals by day; Have ye not a voice that spenkeih? Tell me, therefore, what ye say ! THE CHIMES. " We speak of days long, long ago ; We speak of '1 ime 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 adveiti-ement ; Then we tell the hour's departure — We, the bells of ancient Ghent, READINGS AND RECITALS. 181 " We have told Ihe birth of princes ; Sounded forth the marriage bell ; We have sung the Miserere; We have rung the last farewell ; Varied still, but true the tidings, Sounding from our belfry floor; Yet the time is coming, coming, When our bells shall chime no more. Yes, the day is hastening onward. When all earthly tongues shall cease; And 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 Maguirb- 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 heard ; For his heart was in his work, and the heart Giveth grace unto every art. And with a voice th.it 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. AH 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 !" 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, Are 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 future 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 j 'Tis of the wave, and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail. And not a rent made by the gale ! I.i 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 I H. W. Longfellow. MABEL; OB, THE FACE 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 night. 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 ?ome old crone Standing out there all alone with her voe. 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! And the thunder how it rolls! In the luUintrs of the storm The solemn church bell tolls For lost souls ! But no sexton sounds the knell ; In that belfi-y, old and high. Unseen fingers sway the bell As the wind goes teanng by 1 How it tolls, for the souls Of the sailors on the sea. God pity them ! God pity them I READINGS AND RECITALS. 185 Wherever they may be. God pity wives and sweethearts Who wait and wait in vain. And pity little Mabel, With her face against the pane ! A boom I the lighthouse gun. How it echoes, rolls and rolls,— 'Tis to wEnrn home-bound ships Off the shoals. See ^ a rocket cleaves the sky From the fort, a shaft of light ! 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 against the pane — You cannot see the men that arown 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 I 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 BURNING 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-bealen 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 lightning illumined in wrath. A young mother knelt in the cabin below, And pressing her babe to her bosom of snow, Sht prayed to her God 'mid the hurricane wild, '■ O Father, have mercy, look down on my child !" > / It passed — the fiecce whirl»...j careered on its way. And the ship like an arrow divided the spray; Iler sails 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, I'or fond hearts within her were dreaming of home. The fond mother pressed 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; lis garden so green, and its vine-covered wall; The kir. I 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 'I'hat she offered to God in her agony wild Was, " Father, have mercy, look down on my child !" Slie flew to her husband, she clung to hie side — Oh, there washer refuge whate'er might betide. "Fire!" "Fi/e!" It was raging above and below— And the checks of 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 lord of the ship, READINGS AND 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, Tliey lowered the boat, a mere speck on the wave. Fir.-.t 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 ! They bear down upon us, they bear down tipon us : Huzza! we are Saved." ATTACK OP THE CUMBERLAND. [The following describes the fatal encounter of the Cumberland and the Merrimac, 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 READINGS AND RECITALS. " Remember, boys, this flag of ours Has seldom left its place ; And wliere 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 1" 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 stem No sign of life appeared : We wondered, questioned, strained our eyes. Joked — everything but feared. She reached our range. Our broadsides rang; 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 dusky 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 how she bore ; Through riving plank and crashing frame Her furious way she tore. READINGS AND RECITALS. J89 Alas ! our beautiful, 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 feci so deep The tusk of that sea-boar ! Once more she backward drew apace ; Once more our side she rent. Then, in the wantonness 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 lime 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 time 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 falling breath To keep their shipmates at the post Where glory strove with deatji. 19G 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 staying 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 angel's wing, I saw Our spotless ensign wave. fiEADINGS AND RECITALS. 191 J! tried to cheer. I cannot say Whelher 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 tri«d to speak. He understood The wi^.h 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 Hy ! 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 I What meant (he 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 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 ! So scted 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 ! 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 ! Re-echo it from East to West, Till every hero's breast Shall swell beneath a soldier's crest! 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 I Toll ! Roland, loll ! Till swords from scabbards leap ! Toll ! Roland, toll ! What tears can widows weep More bitter than when brave men fall I Toll ! Roland, toll ! In shadowed hut and hall Shall lie the soldier's pall, READINGS A\D RECITALS. 193 And lirarts shall break while graves are filled! Amen ! so God hath willed ! And may His grace anoint us all ! Toll! Roland, toll! The Dragon on thy tower Stands sentry to this hour, And Freedom now is safe in Ghent I 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 ! Toll 1 Roland, toll ! Ring out across the sea! No longer, they, but we, Have now such need of thee I Toll! Roland, toll! Nor ever let thy throat Keep dumb its warning note Till Freedom's perils be outbraved 1 Toll! Roland, toll! Till Freelom's flag, wherever waved. Shall '.hadow not a man enslaved ! Toll! Roland, toll! From Northern lake to Southern strand 1 Toll! Roland, toll! Til! friend and foe, at thy command. Shall clasp once more each other's hand. And shout, one-voiced, " God save the land!" And love the land that God hath saved 1 Toll ! Roland, toll ! Theodore Tilton, POETRY. [Poetry maybe considered in a twofold view, as a spirit and a mani- festation. Perhaps tl.e poetic spirit has never been more justly de- fined, than by Byron in his Prophecy of Dante, — a creation " From overfeeling good or ill, an aim At an eternal life beyond our fate." Tliis spirit maybe manifested by language, metrical or prose, by decla- mation, by musical sounds, by expression, by gesture, by motion, and ^3 194 READINGS a:\D recital \ by imitating forms, colors and shades ; so that literature, oratory, music, physiognomy, acting, and the arts of paintiuj^ 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 v.iulted roof. And pointed arches, and retiring aisles Of some old, lonely minster, where the hand. Skillful, and moved with passionate love ol 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. Rapt, and dissolved in ecstasy, to Heaven. 'Tis not the chime and flow of words, that roovs In measured file, and metrical array ; 'Tis not the union of returning sounds. Nor 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 world around him, in a chain Woven of flowers, and dipped in sweetness, till He taste the high communion of his ihouglits. READINGS AKD KECJ7A1.S. V'fj With all existences, in earth and Heaven, That meet him in the charm of grace and power. 'Tis not the noisy babbler, who displays, In studied phrase, and ornate epithet. And rounded peiiod, poor and vapid thouglUs, Which peep from out the cumbrous ornaments That overload their littleness. Its words 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 langujige winged with terror, as when l>olts 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 looked forth On Nature, in her loveliness, and storms. How my heart gladdened, as the light of spring Came from the sun, with zephyrs, and with shower* Waking the earth to beauty, and the woods To music, and the atmosphere to blow. Sweetly and calmly, with its breath of balm. O, how I gazed upon the dazzling blue Of summer's Heaven of glory, and the waves. That rolled, in bending gold, o'er hill and plain; And on the tempest, when it issued forlh, In folds of blackness, from the northern sky, And stood above the mountains, silent, dark, Frowning, and terrible; then sent abroad The lightning, as its herald, and the penl. That rolled in deep, deep volleys, round the hills The warning of its coming, and the sound That ushered in its elemental war! And, oh ! I stood, in breathless longing fixed. Trembling, and yet not fearful, as the clouds Heaved their dark billows on the roaring winds. That sent, from mountain top, and bending wood, A long hoarse murmur, like the rush of waves. That burst, in foam and fury, on the shore. Nor less the swelling of my heart, when high Rose the blue arch of autumn, cloudless, pure As nature, at her dawning, when she sprang Fresh from the hand that wrought her; where the ev» Caught not a speck upon the soft serene. To stain its deep cerulean, but the cloud. That floated, like a lonely spirit, there. White as the snow of Zemla. or the foam 196 HEADINGS AND RECITALS. That on the mid-sea tosses, cinctured round. In easy undulations, with a belt, Woven of bright Apollo's golden hair. Nor, when that arch, in winter's clearest night, Mantled in ebon darkness, strewed with stars Its canopy, that seemed to swell, and swell The higher, as I gazed upon it, till, Sphere after sphere, evolving, on the height Of heaven, the everlasting throne shone through. In glory's lull effulgence, and a wave, Intensely bright, rolled, like a fountain forth Beneath its sapphire pedestal, and streamed Down the long galaxy, a flood of snow, Bathing the heavens in light, the spring that gushed, In overflowing richness, from the breast Of all-maternal nature. These I saw. And felt to madness : but my full heart gave No utterance to the ineffable within. Words were too weak ; they were unknown, but still The feeling was most poignant: it has gone. And all the deepest flow of sounds, that e'er Poured, in a torrent fullness, from the tongue Rich with the wealth of ancient bards, and stored With all the patriarchs of British song Hallowed and rendered glorious, cannot tell Those feelings, which have died, to live no more. Percivau PTEAMUS AND THISBB. [Conversational — great expression.] This tragical tale, which, they say, is a true one. Is old ; but the manner is wholly a new one. One Ovid, a writer of some reputation. Has told it before in a tedious narration ; In a style, to be sure, of remarkable fullness, But which nobody reads on account of its dullness. Young Peter Pyramus — I call him Peter, Not for the sake of the rhyme nor the metre. But merely to make the name completer^ For Peter lived in the olden times, And in one of the worst of pagan climes That flourish now in classical fame. RCADIXCS AXD RFXITALS, J.97 Long before either noble or boor Had such a thing as a Christian name — Young Peter, then, was a nice young beau As any young lady would wi.h to know; In years, I ween, he was rather green, That is to say, he was just eighteen— A trifle too short, a shaving too lean, But " a nice young man" as ever was seen. And fit to dance with a May-day queen I Now Peter loved a beautiful girl As ever ensnared the heart of an earl In the magical trap of an auburn curl^ A little Miss Thisbe, who lived next door, (They lived, in fact, on the very same floor. With a wall between them and nothing more — Those double dwellings were common of yore). And they loved each other, the legends say. In that very beautiful, bountiful way. That every young maid and every young blade Are wont to do before they grow staid. And learn to love by the laws of trade. But (a-lack-aday, for the girl and boy !) A little impediment checked their joy. And gave them awhile, the deepest annoy, — For some good reason, which history cloaks. The match didn't happen to please the old folks I So Thisbe's father and Peter's mother Began the young couple to worry and bother, And tried their innocent passion to smother By keeping the lovers from seeing each other I But who ever heard of a marriage deterred Or even deferred By any contrivance so very absurd As scolding the boy, and caging the bird? Now, Peter, who was not discouraged at all By obstacles such as the timid appal, Contrived to discover a hole in the wall, Which wasn't so thick but removing a brick Made a passage — though rather provokingly small. Through this little chink the lover could greet her. And secrecy made their courting the sweeter, While Peter kissed Thisbe, and Thisbe kl-^sed Peter— For kisses, like folks with diminutive souls, Will manage to creep through the smallest of holes! Twas here that the lovers, intent upon love, I,ai(l a nice little plot to meet at a spot Near a mulberry-tree in a neighboring grove/ IPS READiyCS AND KECITALS. For the plan was all laid by the youth and the maid, Whose hearts, it would seem, were uncommonly bold ones. To run off and get married in spite of the old ones. In the shadows of evening, as still a>i a mouse The beautiful maiden slipped out of the house The mulberry-tree impatient to find ; While Peter, the vigilant matrons to blind. Strolled leisurely out some minutes behind. While waiting alone by the trysting tree, A terrible lion as e'er you set eye on Came roaring along quite horrid to see. And caused the young maiden in terror to flee (A lion's a creature whose regular trade is ]3lood — and " and a terrible thing among ladies"). And losing her veil as she ran from the wood, The monster bedabbled it over with blood. Now Peter arriving, and seeing the veil All covered o'er and reeking with gore. Turned, all of a sudden, exceedingly pale. And sat himself down to weep and to wail ; Tor, soon as he saw the garment, poor Peter Made up his mind in very short metre That Thisbe was dead, and the lion had eat her! So breathing a prayer, he determined to share The late of his darling, " the loved and the lost," And fell on his dagger, and gave up the ghost! Now Thisbe returning, and viewing her beau Lying dead by her veil (which she happened to know). She guessed in a moment the cause of his erring; And, seizing the knife that had taken his lile, In less than a jiffy was dead as a herring. MORAL. Young gentlemen : — pray recollect, if you please, Not to make appointments near mulberry-trees. Should your mistress be missing, it shows a sveak head To be stabbing yourself, till you know she is dead. Young ladies : — you shouldn't go strolhng aliout AVhen your anxious mammas don't know you are out ; And remember that accidents often befall From kissing young fellows through holes in the wall I John G Saxf. READINGS AND RECITALS. 199 THE THREE BELLS. [This poem refers to the rescue of the crew of an American vessel sinking in mid-ocean, by Captain Leighton, of the English ship Three Bells. In reading, let the calls appear to come from a distaB^e.J Beneath the low-lning night cloud That raked her splintering mast, TI;p good ship settled slowly, The cruel leak gained fast. Over the awful ocean Her signal guns pealed out; Dear God ! was that Ihy answer. From the horror round about ? A voice came down the w ild wind— " Ho! ship-ahoy !" its cry: "Our stout Three Bells of Glasgow Shall stand till daylight by !'' Hour after hour crept slowly. Yet on the heaving swells Tossed up and dow ii the ship-lights— The lights of the Three Bells. And ship to ship made signals; Man answered back to man ; While oft, to cheer and hearten, The Three Bells nearer ran. And the captain from her tafirail Sent down his hopeful cry : " Take heart ! hold on !" he shouted, " The Three Bells shall stand by!" All night across the waters The tossing lights shone clear ; All night from reeling taffrail The Three Bells sent her cheer. And when the dreary watches Of storm and darkness passed, Just as the wreck lurched under. All souls were saved at last- 200 kEADINGS AND RECITALS. Sail on, Three Bells, forever, In grateful memory sail ! Ring on, Three Bells of rescue. Above the wave and gale ! As thine, in night and tempest, I hear the Master's cry, And, tossing through the darkness. The lights of God draw nigh. J. G. Whittier, in Atlantic Monthly. UNCLE DAN'L'S APPARITION AND PRAYER. [An impersonation. The descriptive portions should be purely conversational.] Whatever the lagging, dragging journey from Tennessee to Missouri may have been to the rest of the emigrants, it was a wonder and delight to the children, a world of enchantment; and they believed it to be peopled with the mysterious dwarfs and giants and goblins that figured in the tales the negro slaves were in the habit of telling them nightly by the shuddering light of the kitchen fire. At the end of nearly a week of travel, the party went into camp near a shabby village which was caving, hou^e by house, into the hungry Mississippi. The river aston- ished the children beyond measure. Its mile-breadth of water seemed an ocean to them, in the shadowy twilight, and the vague riband of trees on the further shore, the verge of a continent which surely none but they had ever seen before. "Uncle Dan'l'' (colored), aged 40; his wife, "Aunt Jinny," aged 30; "Young Miss" Emily Hawkins, "Young Mars" Washington Hawkins and "Young Mars" Clay, the new member of the family, ranged themselves on a log, after supper, and contemplated the marvelous river and discussed it. The moon rose and sailed aloft through a maze of shredded cloud-wreaths ; the sombre river just perceptibly brightened under the veiled light; a deep silence pervaded the air and was empjhasized, st intervals, READINGS AND RECITALS. 201 rathej than broken, by the hooting of an owl, the baying of a clog, or the muffled crash of a caving bank in the distance. The little company assembled on the log were all chil- dren (at least in simplicity and broad and comprehensive ignorance), and the remarks they made about the river were in keeping with their character ; and so awed were they by the grandeur and the solemnity of the scene before them, and by their belief that the air was filled with invisible spirits, and that the faint zephyrs were caused by their passing wings, that all their talk took to itself a tinge of the supernatural, and their voices were subdued to a low and reverent tone. Suddenly Uncle Dan'l ex- claimed : " Chil'en, dah's sumfin a comin' !" All crowded close together and every heart beat faster. Uncle Dan'l pointed down the river with his bony finger. A deep coughing sound troubled the stillness, way toward a wooded cape that jutted into the stream a mile distant. All in an instant a fierce eye of fire shot oi-.t.from behind the cape and sent a long brilliant pathway quiver- ing athwart the dusky water. The coughing grew louder and louder, the glaring eye grew larger and still larger, glared wilder and still wilder. A huge shape developed itself out of the gloom, and from its tall duplicate horns dense volumes of smoke, starred and spangled with sparks, poured out and went turiibling away into the farther dark- ness. Nearer and nearer the thing came, till its long sides began to glow with spots of light which mirrored them- selves in the river and attended the monster like a torch- light procession. " What is it? Oh ! what is it, Uncle Dan'l?" With deep solemnity the answer came : " It's de Almighty I Git down on yo' knees !" It was not necessary to say it twice. They were all kneeling in a moment. And then while the mysterious coughing rose stronger and stronger and the threatening glare reached farther and wider, the negro's voice lifted up its supplications : "O Lord, we's ben mighty wicked, an' we knows dat we 'zerve to go to de bad place, but good Lord, deali Lord, we ain't ready yit, we ain't ready"-let dese po' L Yl READIiVGS AXD RECITALS. chil'en liab one mo' chance, jes' one mo' chance. Take de ole niggah if you's got to hab somebody. Good Lord, good deah Lord, we don't know whah you's a gwine to, we don't know who you's got yo' eye on, but we knows by de way you's a comin', we knows by de way you's a tiltin' along in yo' charyot o' fiah dat some po' sinner's a gwine to ketch it. But good Lord, dese chil'en don't 'blong heah, dey's f 'm Obedstown whah dey don't know niififiii, an' you knows yo' own sef, dat dey ain't 'sponsible. An' deah Lord, good Lord, it ain't like yo' mercy, it ain't like yo' pity, it ain't like yo' long-sufferin' lovin' kindness for to take dis kind o' 'vantage o' sich little chil'en as dese is when dey's so many grown folks chuck full o' cussedness dat wants roastin' down dah. O Lord, spah de little chil'en, don't tar de little chil'en away f'm dey frens, jes' let 'em off jes' dis once, and take it out'n de ole niggah. Heah I is. Lord, heah I is ! De ole niggah's ready. Lord, de ole — " The flaming and churning steamer was right abreast the party, and not twenty steps away. The awful thunder of a mud-valve suddenly burst forth, drowning the prayer, and as suddenly Uncle Dan'l snatched a child under each arm and scoured into the woods with the rest of the pack at his heels. And then, ashamed of himself, he halted in. the deep darkness and shouted (but rather feebly) : " Heah I is. Lord, heah I is !" There was a moment of throbbing suspense, and then, to the surprise and comfort of the party, it was plain that the august presence had gone by, for its dreadful noises were receding. Uncle Dan'l headed a cautious reconnois- sance in the direction of the log. Sure enough "The Lord" was just turning a point a short distance up the river, and while they looked, the lights winked out and the coughing diminished by degrees and presently ceased altogether. " H'wsh ! Well now dey's some folks says dey ain't no 'ficiency in prah. Dis chile would like to know whah we'd a ben now if it warn't fo' dat prah? Dat's it. Dat'sit!" "Uncle Dan'l, do you reckon it was the prayer that saved us?" said Clay. "Does I reckon? Don't 1 know it! Whah was yo' READINGS AND RECITALS. 203 eyes? Warn't de Lord jes' a comin' chow/ chow! chov^ ! an' a goin' on tumble — an' do de Lord carry on dat way 'dout dey's sumfin don't suit him? An' warn't he a look- in' right at dis gang heah, an' warn't he jes' a reachin' f.oi 'em? An' d' you spec' he gwine to let 'em off 'dout somebody ast him to do it ? No indeedy !" ''Do you reckon he saw us, Uncle Dan'l?" "De law sakes, chile, didn't I see him a lookin' at us?" " Did you feel scared, Uncle Dan'l?" " No sah ! • When a man is 'gaged in prah, he ain't 'fraid o' nufifin — dey can't nuffin tech him." " Well, what did you run for?" "Well, I — I — Mars Clay, when a man is under de in- fluence ob de sperit, he dunno what he's 'bout — no sah; dat man dunno what he's 'bout. You mout take an' tah de head off'n dat man an' he wouldn't scasely fine it out. Dah's de Hebrew chil'en dat went frough defiah; dey was burnt considable — ob coase dey was; but dey didn't know nuffin 'bout it — heal right up agin; if dey'd ben galsdey'd missed dey long haah, maybe, but dey wouldn't felt de burn." " I don't know but what they were girls. I think they were." "Now, Mars Clay, you knows better'n dat. Sometimes a body can't tell whedder you's a sayin' what you means or whedder you's a sayin' what you don't mean, 'case you says 'em bofe de same way." "But how should / know whether they were boys or girls?" "Goodness sakes. Mars Clay, don't de good book say? 'Sides, don't it call 'em de He-hrtw chil'en? If dey was gals wouldn't dey be de she-brew chil'en? Some people dat kin read don't pear to take no notice when dey da read." "Well, Uncle Dan'l, I think that — My! here comes another one up the river! There can't be two!" "We gone dis time — we done gone dis time, sho' ! Dey ain't two. Mars Clay — dat's de same one. De Lord kin 'pear eberywhah in a second. Goodness, how de fiah an' de smoke do belch up ! Dat mean business, honey. He comin' now like he fo'got sumfin. Come 'long, chil'en, time you's gwine to roos'. Go 'long wid you — ole Uncle 204 READINGS AND RECITALS. Dan'l gwine out in de woods to rastle in prah — de ole niggah gwine to do what he kin to sabe you agin." He did go to the woods and pray; but he went so far that he doubted, himself, if the Lord heard him when he went by. Clemens and Warner. THE VAGABONDS. [This is an excellent piece for elocutionary practice, as the mood of the speaker changes with nearly every verse. Sometimes joyous, in a moment pleading ; now calm — now raving. Study carefully.] We are two travellers, Roger and I. Roger's my dog — Come here, you scamp ! Jump for the gentleman — mind your eye ! Over the table — look out for the lamp ! — • The rogue is growing a little old ; Five years we've tramped through wind and weather. And slept out doors when nights were cold. And ate, and drank — and starved together. We've learned what comfort is, I tell you: A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin, A fire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow. The paw he holds up there has been frozen). Plenty of catgut for my fiddle, {This out-door busmess is bad for strings). Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle. And Roger and I set up for kings ! No, thank you. Sir, I never drink. Roger and I are exceedingly moral. Aien't we, Roger? see him wink. Well, something hot then, we won't quarrel. He's thirsty, too — see him nod his head ? What a pity. Sir, that dogs can't talk ; He understands every word that's said, And he knows good milk from water and challu The truth is, Sir, now I reflect, I've been so sadly given to grog, I wonder I've not lost the respect (Here's to you, Sir !) even of my dog. KEADIXCS AND RECITALS. 2(W But he sticks by through thick and thin. And this old coat with its empty pockets, And rags (hat smell of tobacco and gin. He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets. There isn't another creature living Would do it, and prove, through every disaster, So fond, S9 faithful, and so forgiving, To such a miserable, thankless master. No, Sir ! see him wag his tail and grin — By Georgj I it makes my old eyes water — That is, there's something in this gin That chokes a fellow, but no matter ! We'll have some music, if you're willing. And Roger (hem ! what a plague a cough i^. Sir!) Shall march a little. — Start, you villain! Paws up 1 eyes front ! salute your officer ! 'Bout face ! attention ! take your rifle ! (Some dogs have arms, you see). Now hold Your cap while the gentlemen give a trifle To aid a poor old patriot soldier ! March ! Halt ! Now show how the Rebel shaV-^ 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 passes! Why not reform ? That'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 with thinking, I'd sell out heaven for something 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 how 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— :)6 READINGS A.\D 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 guess'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 broken heart, 1 have seen her — once : I was 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 I 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 lazy 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 w here lodgings are free, And the sleepers need neither victuals or drink ;^ The sooner^ the better for Roger and me. J. T. Trowbrtdgk. ki.ADU\G3 AND liECllALS. 2'jT THE BRIDAL FEAST. [A temperance reading.] A merry peal of marriage bells Steals softly on the evening air; Their 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 heaul- Peans of gladness rose and fell Like warbles of some forest bird, Or like the sound of limpid streams AVhich laugh adown the vale of dreams. The guests are seated here and there, On silken lounge and dnmask 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 conlessed. Fair forms tripped o'er the tufted floors. While smiling faces went and came Like figures in a melo-drame. And rustled through tlie oaken doors The robe of many a stately dame. The bride was young, the bride was fair. 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 v ilh wine J" A young and thoughless gallant cried ; "In amber juice of Gascon vine We'll pledge the happy groom and bride 1" A brimming chalice then was poured. And offered to the bridal twain ; While round the glad and festal board The proffered toast wa» passed again. 208 READINGS AND KECi'lAl.S.. 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 pi ess 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 lu pry. Gazed on the cup with eager stare. The amethystine goblet gleamed, And breathed soft iragrance 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 h:.ll No sound the solemn 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 mothei with a dying cliild. ALADINGS AND RECITALS. liOi* • Genius in ruins !' Oh, that noble youth ! Why should death single out a mnrk so young? See how he thnjws the damp Inclts from his brfnv Of marble whiteness ! See him ciasp his hands! Hear his appalling shrieks for help, lor life ! Mark how he clutches at Ihnt kneeling form. Imploring lo 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 weep^for him in a far distant land ! And now 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 monn Stalks througti the eastern sky. One silver benm. Piercing the thickness of the clustering lenvps, 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 mere fancy; it will beat no more. For death's cold hand is on him; he is dead! " They hollow out a grave within that glen ; Without a shroud they lay him in the earth, Where 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 ceased 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 the 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 Oi' recent tears still clin!;ing there. H 2hfilO JiAADIAGS AM) Kt-Ll i ILS. " 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 j 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 lleaveal Grave fathers all, whose foreheads sliow The weight of many a winter's snow. Abjure the wine-cup from to-night, And with the Temperance Army fight : Some sons may check their vam desires By good examples of their sires. Full many a noble youth is here, AVho scarce has felt a barber's shear; I charge you flee the demon's spell. As you would flee the curse of hell ! 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 stat« To be a ragged pauper's mate ; Rum will destroy your forms divine As Circe changed her guests to swine. f Oh lovely maids ! to whom are given The beauties that embellish Heaven I None of you are too pure or fair To dally with the dreadlul snare. Never for all Pactolus' wealth. In wine let lover drink your health; Beware the traitor who shall dare READIAGS AA'D KECITALH. 1\\ 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 lilow : 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. But no one touched a drop of wine, Though rich Champagne, and limpid Rhine, And Muscatel, — all sparkling briylit, — And purple Port, stood full in siglit. Among the crowd were those who'd fiuaff'd For years the soul-destroying drauglil ; They saw the black and Stygian brink. And horrid gulf which yawned beneaih. 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 1 F. C. LoNO. THE RAINY DAY. [Reflective conversational, Hope beaming through the last stania.] 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 dark and dreary. 212 READINGS AXD RECITALS. My life is cold, and darl<, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; My thoughts still cling to the moklering 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. LoNGFELLOVr. THE CHARCOAL MAN. [Conversational, with calling voice varied in adaptation to the sens* -loud or low, near or distant, as ; ecMired.] Though rudely blows the wintry blast. And sifting snows fall white 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 I" " Charco' !"• — " Hark, O !"— Such cheery sound* Attend him on bis 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 — though still he cries, " Charco' I charco' I" And many a roguish lad replies — "Ark, ho ark, ho!" ' Charco' i" — " Ark, ho !" — Such various sounds Announce Mark Haley's morning rounds. Thus all the cold and wintry day He labors much for little pay. Vet feels no less of h.ippincss H£ADli\GS AMD REWJALS. 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' ! charco' !" And Maltha from the door replies — " Mark, ho ! Mark, ho !" « Charco' !" — " Mark, ho I" — Such joy abounds When he has closed his daily rounds. The hearth is warm, the fire is bright ; And while his hand, washed clean and vhite. Holds Martha's tender hand once more. His glowing face bends fondly o'er The crib wherein his darling lies, And in a coaxing tone he cries, " Charco' ! charco' !" And baby with a lavgh replies — "Ah, go! ah, go!" «' Charco' !" — " Ah, go !" — while at the sounds 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' ! charco' I" While mocking echo still replies — "Hark, O! hark, O!" " Charco' !"— " Hark, O !" — Long may th* sounds Proclaim Mark Haley's daily rounds ! J. T. Trowb»«>ce. THE REVOLUTIONARY RISING. [This patriotic story should be told in a graphic mannet.J 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 shril! note, the drum's loud beat. And through the wide land everywhere The aniwering tread of hurrying feet; 3i4 SEAD/XGS AXD RECITALS 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 blooia, And 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 Da^ id's song ; The text, a few short words of might — '* The Lord of hosts shall arjn the right /'* 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 imaginary battle-brand. In face of death he dared to fling Defiance to a tyrant king. READINGS AND KKCllALS. il5 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 His 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 wak« 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 before. It seemed as it would never cease; And every word its ardor flung From off its jubilant iron tongue Was, "War! War! 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, A hundred loices answered, " I !" 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 office of the Patriot, writing an editorial about "Our Grinding Monopolies," he suddenly becan^e conscious of the presence of a fearful sraell. He stopped, snuffed the air two or three times, and at last lighted a cigar to fumigate the room. Then he Jieard 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 tight while I explain." "What hab you god id that buddle?" asked the major. "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 major, 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 ! 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 AA'D 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-niat 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-mat th-^t will disinfect those boots. I do it by saturating the mat with carbolic acid and drying it gradually. I have one here prepared 15y 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 tliis 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?" flS RE AD TAGS 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 puff, 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." "Wliadd'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 spod I 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 Fatriot, while the carbolic mat has not ypt 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 J.\D RECITALS. 219 The green earth was moist with the 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 tlirew 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, fair as an angel, it floated all free. With a wing on the earth and a wing on the sea. How calm was the ocean ! how gentle its swell ! Like a woman's soft bosom, it rose and it fell. While its light sparkling waves, stealing laughingly j-ei-^ When they saw the fair rainbow, knelt down to thv oi.(,r«,t No sweet hymn ascended, no murmur of prayer. Yet I felt that the spirit of worship was there. And bent my young head in devotion and love, i 'Neath the form of the angel that floated above. How wide was the sweep of its beautiful wings ! 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 pleasune, 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 (rom the thought of the coffin and shroud,. May Hope, like the rainbow, my spirit unfold In her beautiful pinions of purple and gold 220 READIXCS 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 The Rum Fiend, written by William II. Burleigh and published by J. N. Steams of New York. Having secured full permission to use the Rum Fiend for this purpose, Tht Rum Maniac is presented as a powerful and effective reading.] I 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 I blood ! It foams in the cursed bowl ! It is on my hands I It stains my soul ! It crimsons the sky With its terrible dye. And the earth which drank it cries ' More ! give more! My thirst for the vintage of murder is sort. Let it flow — let it swell to a river!'" Then, in accents soft and low. Murmured he his tale of woe : '' Did I slay thee, dearest 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 BeautUul — 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. READIXGS AND RECITALS. 221 'Twas the demon in the wine That has wrought this utter woe ! 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 1" Till every wave of the pulsing air He deemed was stirred By a single word Reiterant ever — " Despair ! despair !" And the wretch gasped faintly, " Too late ! too late t 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 throngh the hearer's heart and brain, AVhile 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! 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 I 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; 1222 EADINGS At\D RECITALS. I will not stay where spectres come; Let me go home; I must have rum, — I must have rum ! 'Tis he ! 'tis he ! my aged sire ! What has disturbed thee in tliy grave ? Why bend on me that eye of fire ? \Vhy torment, since tliou canst not save ? Back to the churchyard whence you've comet 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 wiih kindred spirits there. Why has she gone ? Why did she come! O, I'm ruined ! Give me rum, — Oh, give me rum 1 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 drunlcard's cup ! My lips are parched, my heart is sad ; This cursed chain ! 'twill make me mad, — 'Twill malce 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 the morning brings the light I READINGS AND RECITALS. 221 When from my sleepless couch I come, To see, to feel — oh, give me rum ! I muGt 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, — - Oil, give me rum ! Hark ! still I hear ihat 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 door' 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! Drive, drive them hence 1 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, snaky 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 time for flight ; I know thy wicked purpose well ; Avaunt I avaunt, thou hated sprite. And hie thee to thy native hell I He's gone, he's gone I and I am free : He's gone, the faithless, braggart liar; He said he'd come to summon me — See there again, my bed's on fire ! ?2-i READINGS AXD RECITALS. Fire ! water ! help ! Oh haste, I die I The flames are kindling round my head! This smoke! — I'm strangling! — cannot flyi Oh ! snatch me from this burning bed ! There, there again ! that demon's there. Crouching to make a fresh attack ; See how his flaming eyeballs glare I Thou fiend of fiends, what's brought thee back? Eack in thy car ? for whom ? for where ? J le smiles, he beckons me to come : What are those words thou'st written there? " Iti 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 ^^■llh boiling, burning, fiery rum. There will I quench this horrid thirst; With boon companions drink and dweh Nor plead fur rum, as here 1 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. Kf.ADfXCS AXD KECITALS. 220 THE GRACIOUS ANSWER. [The fir«t half of each stanza should be subdued; the last h .If ef- ficient and full of assurance.] The w.iy is dark, my Father! Cloud on cloud 's gathering thickly o'er my head, and loud he thunders roar above me. See, I stand ike one bewildered ! Kalher, take my hand, And through the gloom Lead safely home Thy child! The w.iy 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 h.md, And through the gloom Lead safely home My child 1 The day goes fast, my Father I and the night Is growing darkly down. My faithless sight Sees ghostly visions. Fears, a spectral band. Encompass me. O Father I take my hand, .\nd from the night Lead up to light Thy child ! 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 haii!. And through the night Lead up to light My child I The way is long, my Father I 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 childl 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 shall stand Safe at the goal, how I did take thy hand. And quick and straight Lead to Heaven's gate My child ! 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 ! The throng is great, ray 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 side Thy father walks; then be not terri6ed, For I am wi(h thee ; will thy foes command To let thee freely pass ; — will take thy hand, And through the throng Lead safe along My child! 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 Wliere crowns aie given. Father, take my hand; And reaching down Lead to the crown Thy child! READINGS AXD RECITALS. Til The cross is heavy, child ! Yet there was One Who bore a heavier cross for thee ; my Son , My wel!-belovecl. For him bear thine; and stand With him at la«t ; 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 san was goincj 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 irom their toil, and talking In low tones, while homeward walking. Look ! within the shelter lies a mnn On a rude couch, beneath a blanket. Hi"; suffering face desolate and wan; There near him is the tin pan Filled at moin 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 st.ind 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 visioii of his distant, happy home He saw wh^n he closet! 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 the 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 dowu. And I am going too ; 'tis terrible to die alone, And no one here to take my message home; 2l'8 KEADIXGS AXD RECITALS. Ii's getting darker, too, — footsteps ! here they come, — Oh, Tom, you're here at last; I had be^un to fear That you forgot; — some water." Both come near. " I'm going, boys ! Carry this ring and curl, To my Mary, Jack, and her little girl; You'll do it? Thanks! Tom, good by." ■• Cheer up, Joe; don't take on so, you mustn't die !" " I must; but remember — these to Mary — your — word — keejv 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'ercnme ; One deep, sad sigh ; — he slept, indeed, that blest repose That in this world no hour of waking knows. John Hanover. KATE KBTCHEM. [This parody on Maud yl/?///,?/- should be read in a tone of simple norrotion, 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 ihcy ever sold. Gayly she went because her "pap" Was 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. lie saw Ka'e Ketchem in the crowd. And, linowing lier slightly, slopped and bowed; KEADIXGS AXD RECITALS. 22* Then asked her to give him a single flower. Saying he'd think it a priceless dower. Out from those witli which she was decked She took the poorest she could select, And blushed as she fjave 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, wiih 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 1 could manage him as I chose. " He could aid my falher 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 sill. And saw Kate Ketchem standing siill. " A girl more suited to my mind It isn't an easy thing to find ; 230 READINGS AND RECITALS. " And everything 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 !" Bat 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 ascertam old Ketcheni's wealth; And as for Kate, she schemed and planned Till one of the dancers claimed her hand. lie 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 ivedded 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 l^gh, as soft as a breeze of the south, ('Twas now ou the other side of his mouth :) How he praised her dress and gems in his talk. As he took a careful account of slock. 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 !" Alas for Kate ! and alas for Fudge ! Though I do not owe them any grudge j And alas for any that find to their shame That two can play at their little game ! For of all hard things to bear and grin. The hardest is knowing you're taken in. Ah well 1 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 ii-;. Pho;i!E Ca-RBY, in TIai-per's Bazar, 232 READINGS AND RECITALS. MR, FOGG'S ACCOUNT OP A SCIENTIPIO EXPERIMENT. [Impersonate. Let the interruptions be sudden, and the change! 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 iUustration 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 oca 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 oifered 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 tlie bet. So what does Bradley do but buy a balloon about twice as big as our barn and begin to — " "ft 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 couliln't jump, you know. There were about one hundred tiiousand peojjie looking on; and when they ie^ %o, yea never heard such — " READIAGS AND RECITALS. 233 " Tliere was not one more than two hundred people there, ' said Mrs. Fogg; " I counted them myself." " Oil, 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 phi-head something or other burst. I duniio 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. — .\n(l 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 nie in that way for? It was a tornado — a regular cyclone — and it struck her and jainmed 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 — " "Ml-. Fogg, that's an awful story) it only happened last Tuesday." 231: f:F.iDIKGS AXD RECITALS. "Never mind her," said Mr. Fogg, confidentially. — " And on Sunday the way that cat carried on and yowled, with its fail pointing due east, was so awful that they couldn't have church. And Sunday afternoon the preacher told Br.idley 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; »rd 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 rt^od at such a figure as that," exclaimed Mrs. Fogg. "Oh, well," shouted Mr. Fogg, indignantly, "if you think you can tell the story better than I can, why don't you tell it? You're enough t> worry the life out of a man." Tlien Fogg slimmed the door and went out, and I left. / don't know ^hetlier Bradley go^ Uio stakes or not. THE CATARACT OP I-ODORB.* [This exercise in articulation and jnodidaii&n 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 questiun, " How does the wai^r cone down at Lodore ?"] Here it comes sparkling, And there it lies darkling; Here smoking and frothing, Its tumult and wrath in, It hastens along, conflicting, and strong. Now striking and raging, As if a war waging, * Its caverns and rocks among. Rising and leaping. Sinking and creeping, Swelling and dinging, Showering and springing, * A celebrated fall on Derwcnt-Water, in Cumberland, Enj^^ai* READINGS AXD RECITALS. 235 Eddying and whisking, Spouting and frisking, Twining and twisting Around and around, — Collecting, disjecting. With endless rebound; Smiting and hghting, A sight to delight in. Confounding, astounding, Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound. Receding and speeding, And shocking 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 riid beaming. And rushing and flushing and brushing anc{ 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 aiid playingjand spraying, Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing, Recoiling, turm oiling and toiling and boiling, And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing; And so never ending, but always descending. Sounds and motions forever and ever are 1)lending, All at once and all o'er, with a migliiy u]iroar ;— And this way the water comes down at Lodore. Robert Southet. 236 READINGS AXD RECITALS. EAIN ON THE ROOP. [A vigorous action of the imagination will do much toward suggest, ing the proper form of expression.] ^Vhen tlie 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 ; 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 the.r praise or mild reproof, As 1 listen to the murmur of the soft rain on the roof. And another comes to thrill me with her eyes' deliciou"^ blue. I forget, as gazing on her, that her heart was all untrue : I 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 m.elody of nature — that subdued, subduing strain Which is played upon the shingles by the patter of the rain ! CoATES Kinney. ORATOR PUFF. [Thi '' two tones" should be clearly brought out.] Mr. Orator Puff had two tones in his voice. The one squeaking 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. Or.-itor PuH, One voice lor 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, " Sinkingyi^jr/," the last words as his noddle came down. O, Orator Puff, One voice for an orator's surely enough ! "Oh! safe!" he exclaimed, in his he-and-she tones, " //elj> me out ! help me out ! I have broken my bones /" ** Plelp you oui !" said a Paddy, who p.issed — " what a bother ! Why, there's two of you there; can't you help one another?" O, Orator Puff, One voice for an orator's surely enough ! Thomas Moore. THE QUIET STREET. [Affording opportunity for many varieties of the calling voice.'\ There is enjoyment in the pathless woods. The silent valleys yield a trnnquil 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 culde-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, Prepnred to write a sonnet to the moon,^ Fancy grows vigorous in a quiet street. 238 READINGS AND RECITALS. '' Hail, Luna !" — But what is that ? A distant sound Appears my auditory sense to greel ; It cannot be — " Hail, Luna!" — I'll be bound, An organ's got into this quiet street. Ko matter, — 'twill be over very soon ; There's a policeman somewhere on the beat. Kurk ! — there's a trumpet, sadly out of tune. Waking the echoes of this quiet street. " Parian! 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 — ** Sckiind edishun — Rooshians ?V. retreat.** " Hail, Luna !" — no, not that. — Hi, there, police. Is this permitted in a quiet street ? Silence your brazen throats, you grcen-baize band; Avaunt, you tra6ficker 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 music," — " IVa -ter — creeses /" " There let me linger, stretched beneath the trees, Tracing in air fantastic" — "Imageesl" *' What varied dreams the vagrant fancy hatches, A playful Leda v/ith her Juve-born" — " Alatchet P' " 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" — "ICnives to grind T* " Visions like those the Interpreter, of Bunyan's, Displayed to Mercy" and young Matlhew" — "Onions !'' " There is a spell that none can chase away, Frrjm scenes once visited by" [Sing.] ' Old Dog Tray f* j " There is a charm whose power must ever blend ' The past and present in its" — " Chairs to mend!" " Still Pan and Syrinx wander thro' the groves, Still Zephyr moves" — " Shavings for your stoves !" "And still unbanished filters on the ear," — "Any beer! A-n-y B-e-e-r V* KEAUiyCS AND RECIT.TLS. 23? " Aye, and forever, while this planet rolls. To its sphere-music" — " Mackerel or Soles T' *' While crushed Enceladus in torment fjroans Beneath his Etna shrieking" — " Stones, hearthstones T' " While laves the tideless sea the glittering strand Of Grecia"— [Sing.] " ' Tis hard to give the hand r " Tlie spot they visited is holy ground, And echo answers" — [Sing.] " Bobbing all around P' " Hail, Luna!"— "y]/;(^«j.'"— " Goddess of the Night!" '^Charcoal!" — " Thou silver orb!" — Let me retreat ; Another line I'll not attempt to write : This very day I'll leave this quiet street. 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 : ]t was a collier's wife and child, they called hirn 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; Fur she had all a mother's heart, had that poor collier's w ife. W.th hands uplified, see, she kneels beside the sufferer's bed, And prays that He would spare her boy, and take hersell instead. She gets her answer from the child: soft fall the words from him, " Mother, the angels do so smile, and beckon little Jim, I 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 d=a'. Had uttered the last words she njight ever hope to hear: The cottage door is opened, the collier's step is heard. The father and the mother meet, yet neither speak a w;-- i. 240 READINGS AND RECITALS. lie felt tliat all was over ; lie knew his child was dead , He tool< 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. [Excellent for vocal culture. The second line of each stanza is an ii.dcx showing how it should be read. Be true to the spirit of the SLlclion, and pay great attention to bringing out the full power ot 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! 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 tlie bells. Hear the mellow wedding bells. Golden bells ! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells I 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 lis ens, while she gloats On the moon ! Oh! from out the sounding cells, ft'liat a gush of euphony voluminously wells, How it swells! How it dwells On the future ! — how it tells Of the rapture that impels READINGS AA'D 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 start'ed ear of night How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, Tljey can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune. In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the flie. In a mad expostulation tvith 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! What a horrid outpour On the bosom ol the palpitating air! Yet the ejr it fully knows. By the twanging And the clanging. How the danger ebbs and flows; Ye^the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, B) "^e sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bellsj 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 compeUi In the silence of the night How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone ! For every sound that floats Krom the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people — ah! the people! They that dwell up in the steeple. All alone, |6 Ml! READINCZ A.yu KBCUaLS And who, tolling, tolling, toiiitifj, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone : They are neither man nor woman. They aie neither brute nor human; They are ghouls; And their king it is who toU^ And he rolls A paean from the bells ! And his merry bosom swells With the psean of the bells I And he dances, ami he yells; Keeping time, In a sort of Runic rhyme. To the pfean 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. PoE. SAMUEL SHORT'S SUCCESS. [The following alliterative exercise, aside from its novel character, will afford opportunity for practice in difiicult-^iticulalion.J 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 RFXITALS. 243 saw Sophia Sophronia Spriggs somewhere. Sweet, sen- sible, smart Sophia Sophronia Spriggs. Sam soon showed strange 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 snuff-box spinning, seizing Sally's scissors, smashed Sally's spectacles, scattering several spools. "Sneaking scoundrel ! Sam's shocking silliness shall surcease!" Scowling Simon stopped speaking, start- ing swiftly shopward. Silly 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 ; stop 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 I 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 !" Soon Sam spied Sophia starching shirts, singing softly. Seeing 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 sunflowers 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 Sophia. " Sophia, stop smiling. Sam Short's sincere. Sam's seeking some sweet spouse, Sophia." " Speak, Sophia, speak I Such suspense speculates sor- row." " Seek sire, Sam ; 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 well depicted.] *T\vas in my easy chair at home. About a week ago, I sat and puffed my light 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 Plymouth sand. READINGS AND RECITALS. 'i43 In my mind's eye, I saw them leave Their weather-beaten 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." Imagioation'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); I looked, 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, in the Mayflower's cabin, signed The first New England charter. " I could some curious facts impart — Terhaps, 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, AVhether 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 ; Sail! I, " Tiiat's Lehigh coal, Dug from the earth," — he shoolc his head-^ " It is, upon my soul !" I then took up a bit of sticlc. One end as black as night, And rubbed it quick across the hearth. When, lol a sudden light! 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 Lnrd 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, ri^e up," said I, " Your terrors all are vain. That was no chariot of the sky, 'Twas the New Voik mail train.'' READINGS Ai\D RECITALS. 247 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 — lie stared, smiled, burst out laughing ; •"What witchcraft's that?" "It's what we call Magnetic telegraphing." And th^ji 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 helow its waist Large as a feather-bed. " It has the gift of speech, I hear; But sure it can't be human !" " My amiable friend," said I, " That's what we call a woman !" " A woman ! no — it cannot be," Sighed he, with voice that faltered ! " 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 chickens — A labor-saving henneiy That beats the very dickens ! Thereat he strongly grasped my hand, And said, " 'Tis plain to see This world is so transmogrified 'Twill never do for me. " Your telegraphs, your railroad trains, Your gas lights, friction matches. Your hump-backed women, rocks for ci^al. Your thing which chickens hatches, «' Have turned the earth so upside down. No peace is left within it ;" Then whirling round upon his heel, He vanished in a minute. A. C- Spooner. 248 READINGS AXD RECITALS. THE OLD FORSAKEN SCHOOL-HOUSE. [Pure tone — conversational.] They've left the school-house, Charley, where years ago we sat And shot our paper bullets at the master's time-worn hat; The hook is gone on which it hung, the master sleepeth now Where school-boy tricks can never cast a shadow o'er his brow. They've built a new, imposing one — the pride of all the town, And laughing lads and lasses go its broad steps up and down ; A tower crowns its summit with a new, a monster bell. That youthful ears, in distant homes, may hear its music swell. I'm sitting in the old one, with its battered, hingeless door; The windows are all broken, and the stones lie on the floor; I, alone, of all the boys who romped and studied here. Remain to see it battered up and left so lone and drear. I'm sitting on the same old bench where we sat side by side And carved our names upon the desk, when not by master eyed; Since then a dozen boys have sought their great skill to display. And, like the foot-prints on the sand, our names have passed away. 'Twas here we learned to conjugate " amo^ amas^ amat^^ \Vhile glances from the lassies made our hearts go pit-a-pat; 'Twas here we fell iu love, you know, with girls who looked us through — Yours with her piercing eyes of black, and mine with eyes of blue. Our sweethearts — p^-etty girls were they — to us how very dear — Bow down your head with me, my boy, and shed for them a tear; With them the earthly school is out; each lovely maid now stands Before the one Great Master, in the " house not made with hands." You tell me you are far out West; a lawyer, deep in laws. With Joe, who sat behind us here, and tickled us \\\\\\ straws ; Look out for number one, my boys; may weallh come at your touch; But with your long, strong legal straws don't tickle men too much. Here, to the right, sat Jimmy Jones — you must remember Jim^ He's teaching now, and punishing, as master punished him; What an unlucky lad he was ! his sky was dark with woes; Whoever did the sintting it was Jim who got the blows. READINGS AXD RECITALS. 249 Those days are all gone by, my boys ; life's hill we're going down. With here and there a silver hair amid the school-boy brown ; Put memory can never die, so we'll talk o'er the joys We shared together, in this house, when you and I were boys. Though ruthless hands may tear it down — thi^ old house lone and di'ear, Tliey'Il not destroy the characters that started out from here ; Time's angry waves may sweep the shore and wash out all beside : Bright as the stars that shine above, they shall for aye abide. I've seen the new house, Charley : 'tis the pride of all the town, And laughing lads and lasses go its broad steps up and down ; But you nor I, my dear old friend, can't love it half so well As this condemned, forsaken one, with cracked and tongueless bell. John H. Yates. THE CHARGE OP THE LIGHT BRIGADE. [Crimean War — Siege of Sevastopol, October 2?, 1854.] Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the Valley of Death, Rode the Six Hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns !" he said; Into the Vnlley of Deatli Rode the Six Hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade !" Was there a man dismayed ? Not though the soldier knew Some one had blundered : Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die : Into the Valley of Death Rode the Six Hundred. Cannon to right of them. Cannon to lelt of them. Cannon in front of them, \'olleyed and thundered. 250 READL\Gii AXD liEtlTALS. Stormed at with shot and shell. Boldly they rode and well; Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell, Rode the. Six Hundred. Flashed all their sabres bare, Flashed as they turned in air. Sabring the gunners there. Charging an army, while All the world wondered. Plunged in the battery smoke. Right through the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reeled from the sabre-stroke. Shattered and sundered. Then they rode back ; but not— Not the Six Hundred. Cannon to right of them. Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volleyed and thundered: Stormed at with shot and shell, AVhile horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came through the jaws of Death Back from the mouth of Hell, All that was left of them — Left of Six Hundred. When can their glory fade ? O the wild charge they made I All the world wondered. Honor the charge they made t Honor the Light Brigade — ■ Noble Six Hundred. Tennyson. THE CREEDS OP THE BELLS. [An excellent selection for vocal culture. Opportunity is here found for the expression of high elocutionary art. Begin with simple conversational voice, and read each stanza as indicated by the second line of that stanza. The voice should be rich and mellow. The last stanza should be omitted when not intended as a temperance reading.] READINGS AND RECITALS. 251 How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells I Each one its creed in music tells, In tones that float upon the air, As soft as song, as pure as prayer ; And I will put in simple rhyme The languaoe of the golden chime; My happy heart with rapture swells Responsive to the bells, sweet bells. " In deeds of love excel ! excel !" Chimefti out from ivied lowers a bell ; " This is the church njt built on sands, Emblem of one not built with hands ; Its forms and sacred rites revere. Come worship here ! come worship here! In rituals and faith excel !" Chimed out the Episcopalian bell. " O heed the ancient landmarks well !" In solemn tones exclaimed a bell ; " No progress made by mortal man Can change the just eternal plan : With God there can be nothing new; Ignore the false, embrace the true, Willie all is well ! is well ! is well !" Pealed out the good old Dutch church bell. " Ye purifying waters, swell !" In mellow tones rang'out a bell ; " Though faith alone in Christ can save, Man must be plunged beneath the wave. To show the world unfaltering faith In what the Sacred Scriptures saith: O swell ! ye rising waters, swell I" Pealed out the clear-toned Baptist bell. " Not faith alone, but works as well. Must test the soul I" said a soft bell ; •' Come here and cast aside your load, And work your way along the road, With faith in God, and faith in man. And hope in Christ, where hope began ; Do well 1 do well I do well ! do well I" Rang out the Unitarian bell. "Farewell! farewell! base world, farewell I" In touching tones exclaimed a bell ; " Life is a boon, to mortals given. To fit the soul for bliss in Heaven • 252 READINGS AXD RECITALS. Do not invoke the avenging rod, Come here and learn the way to God ; Say to the world, Farewell! farewell !" Pealed forth the Presbyterian bell. " To all, the truth, we tell ! we tell !" Shouted in ecstasies a bell ; ** Come all ye weary wanderers, see ! Our Lord has made salvation free ! Repent, believe, have faith, and then Be saved, and praise the Lord, Amen ! Salvation's free, we tell) we tell!" Shouted the Methodistic bell. " In after life there is no hell !" In raptures rang a cheerful bell ; '* Look up to heaven tliis holy day. Where angels wait to lead the \\ay; There are no fires, no fiends to Might The future life; be just and right. No hell! no hell! no hell! no hell !" Rang out the Univeisalist bell. "The Pilgrim Fathers heeded well My cheerful voice," pealed forth a bell; ** No fetters here lo clog the soul ; No arbitrary creeds control The free heart and progressive mind That leave the dusty past behind. Speed well, speed well, speed well, speed well!" Pealed out the Independent bell. "' No pope, no pope to doom to hell!" The Protestant rang out a bell ; •* Great Luther left his fiery zeal Within the hearls thit truly feel That loyalty to God will be The fealty that makes men free. No images where incense fell!" Rang out old Martin Luther's bell. "All hail, ye saints in heaven that d\\-ell Close by the cross !" exclaimed a l>e!l ; " Lean o'er the battlements ol I liss, And deign to bless a v orld like lliis ; Let mortals kneel before this shrint — Adore the water and the wine ! All hail ye saints, the chorus swell !" Chimed in the Roman Catholic Lell. READINGS AND RECITALS. 253 Neatly attired, in manner plain, Behold a pilgrim — no spot, no stain — Slowly, vith soft and measured tread. In Quaker garb — no white, no red. To passing friend I hear him say, " Here worship thou, this is the way — No churchly form — it is not well — No bell, no bell, no bell, no bell !" " Ye workers who have toiled so well To save the race!" said a sweet bell; * With pledge, and badge, and banner, come. Each brave heart beating like a drum ; 13e royal men of noble deeds. For love is holier than creeds ; Drink from the well, the well, the well!" \n rapture rang the Temperance bell. GtoRGE W. Bungay. ANNIE AND WILLIE'S PRAYER. [This touching little story should be related in a simple, conversa- tipnal mauner. Imitate the children's voices.] 'Twas the eve before Christmas; "Good night" had been said. And Annie and Willie had crept into bed ; There were tears on their pillows, and tears in their eyes. And each little bosom was heaving with sighs — For to-night their stern father's command had been given That they should retire precisely at seven Instead of eight; for they troubled him more With questions unheard-of than ever before; He had told them he thought this delusion a sin. No such being as " Santa Claus" ever had been. And he hoped, after this, he should never more hear How he scrambled down chimneys with presents each year. And this was the reason that two little heads So restlessly tossed on their soft, downy beds. Eight, nine, and the clock on the steeple tolled ten — Not a word had been spoken by either till then ; When Willie's sad face from the blanket did peep. And whispered, " Dear Annie, is 'oo fast a'seep?" " Why, no, brother Willie," a sweet voice replies. " I've tried it in vain, but I can't shut my eyes; For, somehow, it makes me so sorry because Dear papa has said there is no ' Santa Claus:' 254 READIXGS AA'V Jroi»ise fell sweet on his e.irs. READINGS AND RECITALS. 255 " Straiif^e, strange I'd forgotten," said he with a sigh, " Mow I longed, when a child, to have Christmas draw Bigh. I'll atone for my harshness," he inwardly said, " By answeiing their prayers ere I sleep in my bed." Then he turned to the stairs and softly went down. Threw off velvet slippers and silk dressing-gown — Donned hat, coat, and boots, and was out in the street, A millionaire facing the cold, driving sleet, Nor stopped until he had bought everything. From the box fuil of candy to thr tiny gold ring; Indeed, he kept adding so much to his store, That the various jDresents outnumbered a score; Then homeward he turned, with his holiday load. And with Aunt Mnry's help in the nursery 'twas stowed. Miss Dolly was seated beneath a pine tree By the side of a table -ipread out for her tea ; A work-box well filled in the centre was laid. And on it a ring f'r which Annie had prayed; A soldier in unifo"-rn stood by a sled, " With bright sl-ining runners, and ail painted red;" There were hell',, dogs and horses, books pleasing to see. And birds of all Colors were perched in the tree; When 5anta Claus, laughing, stood up in the top, As if gp'.ting ready more presents to drop. And^ as the fond father the picture surveyed, He thought for his trouble he had been amply paid. And he said to himself, as he brushed off a tear, '' I'm happier to-night than I've been for a year, I've enjoyed more true pleasure than ever before; What care I if bank stock falls ten per cent, morel Hereafter I'll make it a rule, I believe. To have Santa Claus visit us each Christmas Eve." So thinking, he softly extinguished the light. And tripped down the stairs to retire for the night. As soon as the beams of the bright morning sun Put the darkness to flight, and the stars one by one. Four little blue eyes out of sleep opened wide, And at the same moment the presents espied ; And out of their beds they sprang with a bound. And the very gifts prayed for were all of t'nem found. They laughed and they cried in their innocent glee, And shouted for " papa" to come quick and see What presents old Santa Clnus brought in the night (Just the things that they wanted), and left before light} " And now," added Annie, in a voice soft and low, " You'll believe there's a Santa Claus, papa, I knowj" While dear little Willie climbed up on his knee. Determined no secret between them should be. And told, in soft whispers, how Annie had said That their dear, blessed mamma, so long ago dead. 266 READINGS AND RECITALS. U^ed to kneel down and pray by the side of her cTiair, And that God up in heaven had answered her prayer! •' Then we dot up, and p'ayed dest as well as we tould. And Dod answered our p'ayers; now wasn't he dood?" •' 1 should say that lie was, if He sent you all these. And knew just what presents my children would please,— Well, well, let him think so, the dear little elf, 'Twould be cruel to tell him I did it myself" Blind father! who caused your stern heart to relent. And the hasty word spoken so soon to repent? 'Twas the Being who bade you steal soflly up stairs. And made you His agent to answer their pr.iyers. Mrs. Sophia V. Snow. THE IRISHWOMAN'S LETTER. [Impersonate, and throw much feeling into the latter part of the Selection.] And sure, I was tould to come in till yer honor, To see would ye write a few lines to me Pat ; He's gone for a soger is Misiher O'Conner, Wid a slhripe on his arm, and a band on his hat. And what 'ill ye tell him? shure it must be aisy For the likes of yer honor to spake with the pen, Tell him I'm well, and mavourneen Daisy (The baby, yer honor), is better again. For when he wint off so sick was the crayther. She niver hilt up her blue eyes till his face; And when I'd he cryin' he'd look at me wild like. And ax would I " wish for the counthry's disgrace?" So he left her in danger, an' me sorely gravin*. And followed the flag wid an Irishman's joy; And it's often I drame of the big drums a batin', And a bullet gone straight to the heart of my boy. Tell him to sind us a bit of his money. For the rint and the dochtor's bill, due iti a wak<^ jLii', shure there's a tear on yer eyelashes, honey ; 1' faith I've no right with such fradom to spake. RilAD/XCS AXD RECITALS. 257 I'm over much thrifling, Til not give ye trouble, I'll find ioine one willin' — oh, vhat can it lie? What's that in the newspaper folded up double? Yer honor, don't hide it, but lade it to me. Dead! Patrick O'Conner! O God, it's some ither. Shot dead ! shure 'tis a wake scarce gone by, An' the kiss on the cliake of his sorrowin' mother, Tt hasn't had lime yet, yer honor, to dhry. Dead ! dead 1 deSd 1 Am I crazy ? Shure it's brakin' my heart ye are telling me so. An' what en the world will I do wid poor Daisy? what can I do? where can I go? This room is so dark — I'm not seein' yer honor, 1 think I'll go home — And a sob hard and dry Rose up from the bosom of Mary O'Conner, But never a tear drop welled up to her eye. AN ORDER FOR A PICTURE. [To be rendered in a simple, earnest, natural manner.^ O, good painter, tell me true, lias your hand the cunning to draw Shapes of things that you never saw ? Aye ? Well, here is an order for you. Woods and cornfields a little brown,^ The picture must not be over-bright,— Yet all in the golden and gracious light. Of a cloud when the summer sun is down. Always and always, right and morn. Woods upon woods, with fields of corn Lying between them, not quite sere. And not in the full, thick, leafy bloom ; When ihe wind can hardly find breathing room Under their tassels, — cattle near. Biting shorter the short green grass. And a hedge of sumach and sassafras, With l.'luebirds twittering all around,— Ah, good painter, you can't paint sound I 17 268 READINGS AND RECITALS. These and the little house where I was bom. I.ow and little and black and old. With children, many as it can hold. All at the windows, open wide, — Heads and shoulders clear outside. And fair young faces all ablush ; Perhaps yuu may have seen, some day, Roses crowding the self-same way. Out of a wilding, wayside bush. Listen closer. When you have done With woods and cornfields and grazing herd% A lady, the loveliest ever the sun Looked down upon, you must paint for me; Oh, if I only could make you see The clear blue eyes, the tender smile. The sovereign sweetness, the gentle grace, 'i he woman's soul and the angel's face That are beaming on me all the while ! I need not speak these foolish words : Yet one word tells you all I would say,— She is my mother ; you will agree That all the rest may be thrown away. Two little urchins at her knee You must paint, sir; one like me,— The other v.ilh a clearer brow. And the light of his adventurous eyei Flashing with boldest enterprise: At ten years old he went to sea, — God knoweth if he be living now, — He sailed in the good ship " Commodore," — Nobody ever crossed her track To bring us news, and she never came back. Ah, 'tis twenty long years and more Since that old ship went out of the bay With my great-hearted brother on her deck: I watched him till he shrank to a speck. And his face was toward me all the way. Bright his hair was, a golden brown. The time we stood at our mother's knee. That beauteous head, if it did go down. Carried sunshine into the sea t Out in the fields one summer night We were together, half afraiaint, — Who forbids our complaint. My X.inni would add : he was safe, and aware Of a presence that turned off the balls, — was impressed It was Guido himself, who knew what I couKl bear. And how 'twas impossible, quite dispossessed. To live on for the rest. READINGS AND RECITALS. 263 On which, without pau^e, up the telegraph line Swept smoothly the next news from Gaeta : — shot. Tel! his mother. Ah, ah ! his, their mother, not mine. No voice says " My mother" again to me. What I You think Guido forgot ? Are souls straight so happy that, dizzy with Heaven, They drop earth's affections, conceive not of woe ? 1 think not. Themselves were too lately forgiven Through that love and that sorrow that reconciles so The Above and Below. » O Christ of the seven wounds, who look'st thro' the dark To the face of thy mother ! consider, I pray. How we common mothers stand desolate, mark. Whose sons not being Chrisis, die with eyes turned away. And no last word to say ! Both boys dead ! but that's out of nature. We all Have been patriots, yet each house must always keep one. 'Twere imbecile hewing out roads to a wall ; And, when Italy's made, for what end is it done If we have not a son? Ah! ah! ah! when Gaeta's taken, what then ? When the fair wicked queen sits no more at her sport Of the fire-balls of death, crashing souls out of men. When the guns of Cavalli with final retort. Have cut the game short. When Venice and Rome keep their new jubilee. When your flag takes all heaven for its green, white, and reu. When you have a country from mountain to sea. When King Victor has Italy's crown on his head, (And I have my dead) ■ What then? Do not mock me. Ah ! ring your bells low. And burn your lights faintly. My country is there. Above the star pricked by the last peak of snow; My Italy's there, with my brave civic pair. To disfranchise despair. Dead I one of them shot by the sea in the west. And one of them shot in the east by the sea. Both ! both my boys! If, in keeping the feast. You want a great song for your Italy free, Let none louk at me. Mrs. Browning. 2^^ 4 READINGS AND RECITALS. "ROCK OF AGES." [This exquisite selection should receive much study. The closing lines of the first stanza should be sung in a cheerful, sprightly ro;vnnerj those of the third stanza, sad and with much feeling; those <»<' the *burth stanza, in the weak, broken, trembling voice of age.] " Rock of ages, cleft for me," Thoughtlessly the maiden sung; Fell the words unconsciously From her girlish, gleeful tongue; Sang as little children sing; Sang as sing the birds in June; Fell the words like light leaves down On the current of the tune— " Rock of ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee." " Let me hide myself in Thee," — Felt her soul no need to hide — Sweet the song as song could be. And she had no thought beside; All the words unheedingly Fell from lips untouched by care. Dreaming not that they might be On some other lips a prayer. " Rock of ages, cleft for me," — 'Twas a woman sung them now, Pleadingly and prayerfully. Every word her heart did know. Rose the song as stormed-tossed bird Beats with weary wing the air. Every note with sorrow stirred. Every syllable a prayer — ** Rock of ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in Thee." " Rock of ages, cleft for me," — Lips grown aged sung the hymn Trustingly and tenderly. Voice grown weak and eyes grown dim— "Let me hide myself in Thee," Trembling though the voice and low. Ran the sweet strain peacefully. Like a river in it-; flow ; Sang as only they can sing Who life's thorny path have prest; READINGS AND RECITALS. 26.^ Sang as only they can sing Who behold the promised rest— " Rock of ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in Thee." "Rock of ages, cleft for me," — Sung above a coffin lid; — Underneath, all reslfully, AH life's joys and sorrows hid; Nevermore, O storm- tossed soul I Nevjfmore from wind or tide. Nevermore from liillow's roll Wilt thou need thyself to hide. Could the sightless, sunken eyes. Closed beneath the soft gray hair. Could the mute and stiffened lips Move again in pleading prayer, Still, aye, still, the words would be,— "Let me hide myself in Thee." THE OLD MAN IN THE MODEL CHimCH. [Impersonate.] Well, wife, I've found the model church ! I worshipped there lo-day I It made me think of good old times before my haii*s were gray; The meetin' house was fixed up more than they were years ago. But then I felt, when I went in, it wasn't built for show. The sexton didn't seat me away back by the door; He knew that I was old and deaf, as well as old and poor; He must have been a Christian, for he led me boldly through The long aisle of that crowded church to find a pleasant pew. I wish you'd heard the singin' ; it had the old-time ring ; The preacher said, with trumpet voice : " Let all the people sing I" The tune was " Coronation," and the music upward rolled. Till I thought I heard the angels striking all their harps of gold. My deafness seemed to melt away ; my spirit caught the fire ; I joined my feeble, trembling voice with that melodious choir. And sang as in my youthful days : " Let angels prostrate fall; Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown hi n Lord of all." .1 tell you, wife, it did me good to sing that hymn once more; I felt like some wrecked mariner who gets a glimpse of shore; I almost wanted to lay down this weather-beaten form. And anchor in that blessed port, forever from the slorra. 2(56 READINGS AND RECITALS. The precVen? Well, I can't just tell all that the preacher said; I know it wasn't written; 1 know it wasn't read; Me hadn't time to read it, for the lightnin' of his eye Went flashin' 'long from pew to pew, nor passed a sinner by. The sermon wasn't flowery ; 'twas simple gospel truth ; It fitted poor old men like me; it fitted hopeful youth; 'Twas full of consolation for weary hearts that bleed; 'Twas full of invitations to Christ and not to creed. How swift the golden moments fled, within that holy place; How brightly beamed the light of heaven from every happy face ; Again I longed for that sweet time when friend shall meet with friend, *' When congregations ne'er break up, and Sabbath has no end." I hope to meet that minister — that congregation, too — In that dear home beyond the stars that shine from heaven's blue; I doubt not I'll remember, beyond life's evenin' gray. The happy hour of worship in that model church to-day. Dear wife, the fight will soon be fought — the victory soon be won; The shinin' goal is just ahead ! the race is nearly run ; O'er the river we are nearin', they are throngin' to the shore To shout our safe arrival where the weary weep no more. John II. Yates. OUR POLKS. [Let the emotions be detected in the voice.Q ' Hi ! Harry Holly ! Halt,— and tell A fellow ju.->t a thing or two; You've had a furlough, been to see How all the folks in Jersey do. It's months ago since I was there,— I, and a bullet trom Fair Oaks. When you were home, — old comrade, say. Did you see any of our folks ? You did ? Shake hands, — Oh, aint I glad ; For if I do look grim and rough, I've got some feelin' — People think A soldier's heart is mighty tough; But, Harry, when the bullets fly. And hot saltpetre flames and smokes. While whole battalions lie afield, One's apt to think about his folks. READINGS AND RECITALS 267 And so you saw them — when ? and where ? The old man — is he hearty yet ? And mother — does she fade at all ? Or does she seem to pine and fret For me ? And Sis — has she grown tall ? And did you see her friend — you know That Annie Moss — (How this pipe chokes!) Where did you see her ? — tell me, Hal, A lot of news about our folks. You saw them in the church, you sny ; It's lijtely, for they're always there. Not Sunday ? no ? A funeral ? Who ? Who, Hnrry ? how you shake and s.Lire! All well, you say, and all were out. What ails you, Hal ? Is this a hoax ? Why don't you tell me, like a man. What is the matter with our folks?" " I said »M 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 whimper : " 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 chokes. 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 will 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 kno«-. And wait to welcome in our folks." Ethel Lvnm. 268 KEADJ.VGS A.VD 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 1 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 ! — this is the land of liberty ! Knowles. CHAKLIE MACHRBE. {— Or if it were, in winged guise, A visitant from Paradise ; For — heaven forgive that thought, the whils Which made me both to weep and smile 1— \ sometimes deemed that it might be My brother's soul come down to me; But then at last away it flew, And then 't was mortal well I knew; For he would never thus have flown. And left me twice so doubly Lme^ Lone as the corse within its shroud. Lone as a solitary cloud, A single cloud on a sunny day, While all the rest of heaven is clear, A frown upon the atmosphere. That hath no business to appear When skies are blue and earth is gay. A kind of change came in my fate— . My keepers grew compassionate. I know not what had made them so— They were inured to sights of woe; But so it was — my broken chain READINGS AND RECITALS. 281 With links unfastened did remain; And it was liberty to stride Along my cell from side to side. And up and down, and then athwart, And tread it over every part; And round the pillars one by one, Returning where my walk begun — Avoiding only, as I trod. My brothers' graves without a sod ; For if I thought with heedless tread My steg profaned their lowly bed. My breath came gaspingly and thick, And my crushed heart fell blind and sick. VIII. It might be months, or years, or days— I kept no count, I look no note — I had no hope my eve-i to raise. And clear them of their dreary mote; At last came men to set me free, I asked not wliy, and recked not where} It was at leni;lh the s^me to me. Fettered or fttterless to be; I learned to love despair. And thus, when they appeared at last. And all my bonds aside were cast. These heavy walls to me had grown A hermitage — and all my own! And half I felt as they were come To tear me from a sacred hcmie. With spiders I had friendship made. And watched them in their sullen trade,-™ Had seen the mice by moonlight play^ And why should I feel less than they? We were all inmates of one place. And I, the monarch of each race. Had power to kill ; yet, strange to tell! In quiet we had learned to dwell. My very chains and I grew friends. So much a long communion tends To make us what we are : — even I Regained my freedom with a sigh. Loro Byrow, EVENING AT THE FARM. f The beauty here lies in the natural mr.nner in which the calling voice IS used. Picture the scene in the mind, and be true to the spirit of the piece.] 282 READINGS AND RECITALS. Over the hill the farm-boy goes ; His shadow lengtliens along the land, A giant staff in a giant hand ; In the poplar-tree, aliove the spring. The katydid begins to sing; The early dews are falling; — Into the stone-heap darts the mink; The swallows skim the river's brink; And home to the woodland fly the crows. When over the hill the farm-boy goes, Cheerily calling, "Co', boss! Co', boss! co' ! co' ! co'I" Farther, farther, over the hill. Faintly calling, calling still, "Co' boss! co', boss ! co'! co'I" Into the yard the farmer goes. With grateful heart, at the close of day; Harness and chain are hung away; In the wag(3n-shed stand yoke and plow; The straw's in the stack, the hay in the mow. The cooling dews are failing: The friendly sheep his welcome bleat. The pigs come grunting to his feet The whinnying mare her master knows. When into the yard the farmer goes. His cattle calling: "Co', boss! co',boss! co'! co' ! co' !" While still the cow-boy, far away. Goes seeking those that have gone /stray— "Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co' !" Now to her task the milkmaid goes. The cattle come crowding through the gate, Looing, pushing, little and great ; About the trough, by the farm-yard pump. The frolicsome yearlings frislc and jump, While the pleasant dews are falling; The new milch heifer is quick and shy, But the old cow waits with tranquil eye, And the white stream into the bright pail flows. When to her task the milkmaid goes. Soothingly calling, " So, boss ! so, boss ! so ! so ! so !" The cheerful milkmaid takes her stool. And sits and milks in the twilight cool. Saying, " So ! so, boss ! so ! so !" To supper at last the farmer goes. The apples are pared, the p.nper read. READINGS AND KECITALS. 283 The stories are told, then all to bed. \Vithout, the crickets' ceaseless song Miikes shrill the silence all night long; The heavy dews are falling. The housewife's hir.d has turned the lock; Drowsily ticks the kitchen clock ; The household sinks to deep repose. But still in sleep the faimboy goes Singing, calling, — ■ "Co", boss! on', boss! Co'! co'! co'I" And oft ibe milkmaid, in ner dreams, Drums in the pail with the flashing streams, Murmuring^ "So, boss 1 sol" J. T. Trowbridge. MAOLAINE'S CHILD. t&i imagining yourself to be placed in the position of the actors ii llus twilling scene, an effective rendering will be secured. J " Maclaine ! you've scourged me like a hound ; — Vou should have struck me to the ground; Vou should have played a chieftain's part ; You should have stabbed me to the heart. " Von should have crushed me unto death;-— But here I swear with living breath That for this wrong which you have done I'll wreak my vengeance on your son, — " On him, and you, and all your race !" He said, and bounding from his place. He seized the child with sudden hold — A smiling infant, three years old — And, starting like a hunted stag. He scaled the rock, he clomb the crag. And reached, o'er a many wide abyss. The beetling seaward precipice j And leaning o'er its topmost ledge, He held the infant o'er the edge : — •• In vain thy wrath, thy sorrow vain ; No hand shall save it, proud JIaclaine!" 284 READINGS AJVJJ RECITALS, With flashing eye and burning hrow, The mother followed, heedless how. O'er crags with mosses overgrown, And stair-like juts of slippery stone. But midway up the rugged sleep She found a chasm she could not leap. And kneeling on ils brink, she raised Her supplicating hands, and gazed. " O, spare my child, my joy, my pride ! O, give me back my child !" she cried : " My child ! my child !" with sobs and tears She shrieked upon his callous ears. " Come, Evan," said the trembling chief, — His bosom wrung vith prie'e and grief, — " Restore the boy, give back my son, And I'll forgive the wrong you've done." ** I scorn forgiveness, haughty man ! You've injured me oefore the clan ; And nought but blood shall wipe away The shame I have endured today." And, as he spoke, he raised the child To dash it 'mid the breakers wild. But, at the mother's piercing cry. Drew back a step, and made reply : " Fair lady, if your lord will strip, And let a clansman wield the whip Till skin shall flay, and blood shall run, I'll give you back ynur little son." The lady's cheek grew pale with ire. The chieftain's eyes flashed sudden fire; He drew a pistol from his breast. Took aim, — then dropped it, sore distressed, " I might have slain my babe instead. Come, Evan, come," the father said. And through his heart a tremor ran ; " We'll fight our quarrel man to man." " Wrong unavenged I've never burne," Said Evan, speaking loud in scorn ; "You've heard my answer, proud Maclaine; I will not fight you, — think again." READnVGS AND RECITALS. 285 rhe lady stood in mute despair, With freezing blood and stiffening hair; She moved no limb, she spoke no word;— She could but look upon her lord. He saw the quivering of her eye. Pale lips and speechless agony,— And, doing battle with his pride, " Give back the boy, — I yield," he cried. A storm of pa-isions shook his mind- Anger and shame and love combined; But love prevailed, and bending low. He bared his shoulders to the blow. " I smite you," said the clansman true; " Forgive me, chief, the deed I do ! For by yon Heaven that hears me speak. My dirk in Evan's heart shall reek!" But Evan's face beamed hate and joy; Close to his breast he hugged the boy; * Revenge is just, revenge is sweet. And mine, Lochbuy, shall be complete." Ere hand could stir, with sudden shock He threw the infant o'er the rock. Then followed with a desperate leap, Down fifty fathoms to the deep. They found their bodies in the tide; And never till the day she died Was that sad mother known to smile — The Niobe of MuUa's isle. They dragged false Evan from the sea. And hanged him on a gallows tree; And ravens fattened on his brain. To sate the vengeance of Maclaine. Charles Mackav. 286 READINGS AND REVEALS. THE BATTLE OP IVRY. [Paint the scene as vividly as possible, and avoid monotony in time, force or rhythm. Employ the calling voice in its proper place.] Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are ! .And glory to our sovereign liege. King Henry of Navarre ! Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance, Through thy cornfields green, and sunny vines, O pleasant land of France ! And thou Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the watei-s. Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters ; As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy; For cold and stiff and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy. Hurrah ! Hurrah ! a single field hath turned the chance of war I Hurrah 1 Hurrah ! for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre. Ok ! how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day. We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array; With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers. And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egniont's Flemish spears ! There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land; And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand ; And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled flood. And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood ; And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war. To fight for His own holy name, and Henry of Navarre. The King is come to marshal us, in all his armor dressed ; And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye; He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. .Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, Down all our line, a deafening shout, "God save our lord, the King!" " And if my standard-bearer fall, — as fall full well he may, For never I saw promise yet of such a bloody fray,— Press where ye see my white plume shine amid the ranks of war. And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre." Hurrah 1 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 Saint Andre's plain, ^\'ith 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 thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest; And in 'hey burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, Airidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. READINGS AND RECITALS. 287 Now, God be praised, the day is ours ! Mayenne hath turned hii rein, D'Aumale hath cried for quarter — the Flemish count is slain ; Their ranks are breaking hke thin clouds before a Biscay gale ; The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and fiags, and cloven mail. And then we thought on vengeance, and, all along our van, " Remember St. Bartholomew !" was passed from man to man j But out spake gentle Henry, — " No Frenchman is my foe : Down, down with every foreigner, but let your brethren go." — Oh, was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war, As onr sovereign lord. King Henry, the soldier of Navarre ? . Right well fought all the Frenchmen who fought for France today ; And many a lordly banner God gave them for a prey. But we of the religion have borne us best in fight ; And the good Lord of Rosny hath ta'en the cornet white — Our own true Maximilian the cornet white hath ta'en. The cornet white with crosses black, the flag of false Lorraine. Up with it high ; unfurl it wide — that all the host may know How God hath humbled the proud house which wrought his church such woe. Then on the ground, while trumpets sound their loudest point of war. Fling the red shreds, a foot-cloth meet for Henry of Navane. Ho ! maidens of Vienna I ho I matrons of Lucerne — Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return ! Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles. That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls. Ho ! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright ! Ho 1 burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night ! For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave And mocked the counsel of the wise, and the valor of the brave. Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are ! And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre ! Macaulay. THE FIREMAN. [Imagine the scene to be taking place; then give natural rxpra*- sion.j '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 fiifuMy alone. 288 READINGS AND RECITALS. In lofty halls, where fortune takes its ease. Sunk in the treasures of all lands and seas; In happy homes, where warmth and comfort meet. The weary traveler with their smiles to greet; In lowly dwellings, where the needy swarm Kound starving embers, chilling limbs to warm, — Rises the prayer that makes the sad heart light — '■ Thank God for home, this bitter, bitter night!" But hark ! above the beating of the storm Peals on the startled ear the fire alarm. Yon gloomy heaven 's aflame with sudden light. And heartbeats quicken with a strange affright; From tranquil slumber springs, at duty's call. The reaear. But now it has fallen from me. It is buried in the sea; And only the sorrow of others Throws its shadows over me. Yet, whenever I cross the river On its bridge with wooden piers. Like the odor of brine from the oceaa Comes the thought of other years. And I think how many thousands Of care-encumbered men. Each bearing his burden of sorrow. Have crossed the bridge since then. I see the long procession Still passing to and fro. The young heart hot and restless. And the old, subdued and slowl And forever and forever. As long as the river flows. As long as tlie heart has passiou. As long as life has woes •, READIXGS AND RECIIALS. 291 The moon and its broken reflection And its shadows shall appear, As the symbol of love in heaven. And its wavering image here. II. Vv'. Longfellow. NEW YEAR'S EVE. [This pathetic litfle story should be told in a touching manner, wty» much feeling and delicate expression.] Utile Gretchen, little Gretchen wanders up and down the street; The snow is on her yellow hair, the frost is at her feet. The rows of long, dark houses without look cold and damp, I'y the struggling of the moonbeam, by the flicker of the lamp. The clouds ride fast as horses, the wind is from the north, r>ut no one cares for Gretchen, and no one looketh forth. Within those dark, damp houses are merry faces bright. And happy hearts are watching out the old year's latest night. With the little box of matches she could not sell oil day. And the tliin,thin tattered mantle the wind l)Iows every way. She clingeth to the railing, she shivers in the gloom, — There are parents sitting snugly by firelight in the room; And children with grave faces are whispering one another Of presents for the new year, for father or for mother. Hut no one talks to Gretchen, and no one hears her speak, No breath of little whispers comes warmly to her cheek. No little .'rms around her: ah me! that there should be, With so much happiness on earth, so much of miseiy ! Sure they of many blessings should scatter blessings round. As laden boughs in autumn fling their ripe fruits to the ground. And the best love man can ofier to the God of love, be sure. Is kindness to his little ones, and bounty to his poor. Lillle Gretchen, little Gretchen goes coldly on ber way; There 's no one looked out on her, there 's no one bids her stay, Iler home is cold and desolate ; no smile, no food, no fire, lUit children clamorous for bread, and an impatient sire. So she sits down in an angle where two great houses meet. And she curled up beneath her, for warmth, her lutle feet; And she looketh on the cold wall, and on the colder sky. And wonders if the little stars are bnght fires up on high. She hears a clock strike slowly, up in a far church tower. With such a sad and solemn tone, telling the midnight houi. 292 READINGS AND RECITALS. And she remembered her of tales her motlier used to tell, And of the cradle-songs she sang, when summer's twilight fell ; Of good men and of angels, and of the Holy Child, Who was cradled in a manger, when winter was m<><:t wild ; Who was poor, and cold, and hungry, and desolate and lone ; And she thought the song had told he was ever with his own; And all the poor and hungry and forsaken ones are his, — *' How good of Him to look on me in such a place as this !" Colder it grows and colder, but she does not feel it now, For the pressure at her heart, and the weight upon her brow; But she struck one little match on the wall so cold and bare, That she might look around her, and see if He were there. The single match has kindled, and by the light it threw It seemed to little Gretchen the wall was rent in two ; And she could see folks sealed at a table richly spread. With heaps of goodly viands, red wine and pleasant bread. She could smell the fragrant savor, she could hear what lliey did say, Then all was darkness once again, the match had burned away. She struck another hastily, and now she seemed to see Within thesame warm chamber a glorious Christmas tree. The branches were all laden with things that children prize, Bright gifts for boy and maiden — she saw thf^m with her eye"^. And she almost seemed to touch them, and to join the welcome shout, When darkness fell around her, and the little match was out. Another, yet another, she has tried — they will not light; Till all her little store she took, and struck with all her might : And the whole miserable place was lighted with the glare. And she dreamed there stood a little child before her in the air. There were blood-drops on his forehead, a spear-wound in his side. And cruel nail-prints in his feet, and in his hands spread wide; And he looked upon her gently, and she felt that he had known Pain, hunger, cold, and sorrow — ay, equal to her own. And he pointed to the laden board and to the Christmas tree. Then up to the cold sky, and said, " Will Gretchen come with me ?" The poor child felt her pulses fail, she felt her eyeballs swim. And a ringing sound was in her ears, like her dead mother's hymn : And she folded both her thin white hands, e^d turned from that bright board. And from the golden gifts, and said, "Will Ihee, with thee, O Lord? " I he chdiy winter morning breaks up in the dull skies On the city wrapt in vapor, on the spot where Gretchen lies. READINGS AAD RECITALS. 293 In her scant and tattered garment, with her back against the wall. She sitteth cold and rigid, she answers to no call. They have lifted her up fearfully, they shuddered as they said, " It was a bitter, bitter night! the child is frozen dead." The angels sang their greeting for one more redeemed from sin ; Men said, " It was a bitter night; would no one let her in?" And they shivered as they spoke of her, and sighed. They could not see How much of happiness there was after that misery. MISS MALONY ON THE CHINESE QUESTION, [An impersonation.] Och ! don't be talkin'. Is it howld on, ye say? An' didn't I howld on till the heart of me was clane broke entirely, and me wastin' that thin you could clutch me wid yer two hands? To think o' me toilin' like a nager for the six year I've been in Ameriky — bad luck to the day I iver left the owld counthry ! to be bate by the likes o' them! (faix an I'll sit down when I'm ready, so I will, Ann Ryan, an' ye'd better be list'nin' than drawin' jour remarks); an' is it mysel, with five good characters from respectable places, would be herdin' wid the haytnens? The saints forgive me, but I'd be buried alive sooner'n put up wid it a day longer. Sure an' I was the grane- horn not to be lavin' at onct when the missus kim into me kitchen wid her perlaver about tiie new waiter man which was brought out from Californy. " He'll be here the night," says she; "and, Kitty, it's meself looks to you to be kind and patient wid him, for he's a furriner," says she, a kind o' lookin' off. "Sure an' it's little I'll hinder nor interfare wid him nor any other, mum," says I, a kind o' stiff, for I minded me how these French waiters, wid their paper collars and brass rings on their fingers, isn't company for no gurril brought up dacint and honest. Och ! sorra a bit I knew what was comin' till the missus walked into me kitchen smilin', and says kind o' schared: "Here's Fing Wing, Kitty, an' you'll have too much sinse to mind his bein' a little strange." Wid that she shoots the doore, and I, misthrusting if I was tidied 29 i READINGS AND RECITALS. up sufficient for me fine b'y wid his paper collar, looks up and — Howly fathers ! may I niver bratlie another breath, but there stud a rale haythen Chineser a-grinnin' like he'd just come off a tay-box. If you'll belave me, the craytur' was that yeller it 'ud sicken you to see him ; and sorra stitch was o i him but a black night-gown over his trowsers, and the front of his head shaved clanernor a copper biler, and a black tail a-hangin' down from it behind, wid his two feet stook into the heatlienest shoes you ever set eyes on. Och ! but I was up stairs afore you could turn about, a givin' the missus warnin', an' only stopt wid her by her raibin' me wages two dollars, and playdin' wid me how it was a Christian's duty to bear wid haythins and taitch 'em all in our power — the saints save us ! Well, the wajs <»nd trials I had wid that Chineser, Ann Ryan, 1 couldn't be teliin'. Not a blissed thing could I do but he'd be lookin' on wid his eyes cocked up'ard like two poomp- handles, an' he widdout a speck or smitch o' whiskers on him, an' his finger nails full a yard long. B.it it's dyin' you'd be to see the missus alarniu' him, and he grinnin' an' waggin' his pig-tail (which was pieced out long wid some black stoof, the haythen chate!), and getlin' into her ways wonderful quick, I don't deny, imitatin' that sharp, you'd be shurprised, and ketchin', an' copyin' things the best of us will do a-hurried wid work, yet don't want comin' to the knowledge of the family — bad luck to him I Is it ate wid him? Arrah, an' would I be sittin' wid a haythen an' he a-atin' wid drum-sticks — yes, an' atin' dogs an' cats unknownst to me, I warrant you, which it is the custom of them Chinesers, till the thoucrbt made me that sick I could die. An' didn't the craythur' proffer to help me a wake ago come Toosday, an' me a foUlin' down me clane clothes for the ironin', an' fill his haythin mouth wid water, an', afore I could hinder, squirrit it through his teeth stret over the best linen table cloth, and fold :t up tight as innercent now as a baby, the dirrity baste ! But the worrest of all was the copyin' he'd be doin' till ye'd be dishtracted. It's yersel' knows the tinder feet that's on me since ever I've been in this rountliry. Well owin' to that, I fell into a way o' slippin' nie shoes off when I'd be settin' down to pale the praities or the likes o' that, and, do ye mind 1 that haythen wouhl do the same READINGS AND RECriALS. 29.'> thing after me whinivir the missus set him to parin' apples or tomaterses. The saints in heaven couldn't have made him belave he cud kape the shoes on him when he'd be paylin' anything. Did I lave fur that ? Faix an' I didn't. Didn't he get me into throuble wid my missus, the haythin ? You're aware yersel' how the boondles comin' in from the grocery often contains more'n'll go into anything dacently. So, for that matter, I'd now and then take out a sup o' sugar, or flour, or taj', an' wrap it in paper and put it in me bit of a box tucked under the ironin' blankit, the how it cuddent be bodderin' any one. Well, what shud it be, but this blessed Sathurday morn the missus was a spakin* pleasant and respec'ful wid me in me kitchen when the grocer boy comes in an' stands fornenst her wid his boon- dies, an' she motions like to Fing Wing (which I never would call him by that name ner any other but just hay- thin), — she motions to him, she does, for to take the boondles an' empty out the sugar an' what not where they belongs. If you'll belave me, Ann Ryan, what did that blatherin' Chineser do but take out a sup o' sugar, an' a handful o' tay, an' a bit o' chaze right afore the missus, wrap them into bits o' paper, an' I spacheless wid shur- prize, an' he the next minute up wid the ironin' blankit and pullin' out me box wid a show o' bein' sly to put them in. Och, the Lord forgive me, but I clutched it, and the missus sayin', "O Kitty 1" in a way that 'uit cruddle your blood. "He's a haythin nager," says I. "I've found you out," says she. "I'll arrist him," says I. "It's you ought to be arristed," says she. " Yoit won't," says I. "I will," says she — and so it went till she give me such sass as I cuddent take from no lady — an* 1 give her warnin' an' left that instant, an' she a-pointia"" to the doore. Mary Mapes Dodge. HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE. [Extract from Macaulay's " Lays of Ancient Rome," abriciged fr>T reading or recitation. Simple narration to grand, impassioned descrlp»- tion and characteriiation.] 596 READINGS AND RECITALS. To Rome a scout came flying, all wild with haste and fears **To amis! to arms 1 Sir Consul; Lars Porsena is here." On the low hills to westward the Consul fixed his eye, And saw the swarthy storm of dust ride fast along the sky. The ConsuPs brow was sad. And the Consul's speech was low. And darkly looked he at the wall. And darkly at the foe. " Their van will be upon us Before the bridge goes down ; And if they once may win the bridge. What hope to save the town ?" Then out spake brave Horatius, The Captain of the gate : "To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late. Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, With all the speed ye may; I, with two more to help me. Will hold the foe in play. "In yon strait path a thousand May well be stopped by three. Now who will stand on either hand. And keep the bridge with me ?" Then out spake S|>uiius Lartius; A Ramnian proud was he: " Lo, I will stand at thy right hand. And keep the bridge with thee." And out spake strong Herminiu5 ; Of Titian blood was he : " I will abide on thy left side. And keep the bridge with thee." " Horatius," quoth the Consul, " As thou sayest, so let it be." And straight against that great array Forth went the dauntless Three. Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Right glorious to behold. Came flashing back the noonday 11 "ht. Like a broad sea of gold. Four hundred trumpets sounded A peal of warlike glee, As that great host, vviili measured tread. Opposed the dauntless Thiee. READINGS AND RECITALS. 29T But meanwliile axe and lever Have manfully been plied, And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. " Come back, come back, Horatius I" l.oud cried the Fathers all. " Back, Lartius ! back, HerminiusJ Back, ere the ruin fall !" Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted b.ick : And, as they passed, beneath their feet They felt the timbers crack. But when they turned their faces, And on the farther shore Saw brave Horalius stand alone, They would have crossed once more. But with a crash like thunder Fell every loosened beam. And, like a dam, the mighty wreck Lay right athwart the stream : And a long shout of triumph Rose from the walls of Rome, As to the highest turret-tops Was splashed the yellow foam. Alone stood brave Koratius, But constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before. And the broad flood behind. "Down with him !" cried false Sextus, With a smile on his pale face. "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, " Now yield thee to our grace." Round turned he, as not deigning Those craven ranks to see; Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, To Sextus naught spake he : But he saw on Palatinus The white porch of his home; And he spake to the noble river That rolls by the towers of Rome. "Oh, Tiber! Father Tiber! To whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, Take thou in charge this day 1" 298 HEADINGS AND RECITALS. So he spake, and, speaking, sheathed The good sword by his side. And with his harness on his back. Plunged headlong in the tide. No sound of joy or sorrow Was heard from either bank; But friends and foes in dumb surprise, Stood gazing where he sank ; And when above the surges They saw his crest appear, Rome shouted, and e'en Tuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer. " Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus: " Will not the villain drown ? But for this stay, ere close of day We should have sacked the town !" "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena, " And bring him safe to shore ; For such a gallant feat of arms Was never seen before." And now he feels the bottom; Now on dry earth he stands; NuW round him throng the Fathers To press his gory hands ; And now, with shouts and clapping. And noise of weeping loud. He enters through the River-Gate, Borne by the joyous crowd. Macaulay. THE POLISH BOY. [Read with spirit and energy. Study carefully, and bring out the full force of the piece.] Whence come those shrieks so wild and shrill. That cut, like blades of steel, the air. Causing the creeping blood to chill With the sharp cadence of despair? Again they come, as if a heart Were c'e''t in twain by one quick blow. And every string had voice apart To utier its peculiar woe. READINGS AND RECITALS. 299 Whence came they ? From yon temple, where An altar, raised fur private prayer, Now forms the warrior's marble bed Who Warsaw's gallant armies led. The dim funereal tapers throw A holy lustre o'er his brow, And burnish with their rays of light The mass of curls that gather bright Above the haughiy brow and eye Of a young boy that's kneeling by. What hand is that, whose icy pre'is Clings to the dead with death's own grasp. But meets no answering caress ? No thrilling fingers seek its clasp. It is the hand of her whose cry Rang wildly, late, upon the air. When the dead warrior met her eye Outstretched upon the altar there. With pallid lip and stony brow She murmurs forlh her anguish now. But hark ! the tramp of heavy feet Is heard along the bloody street; Nearer and nearer yet they come. With clanking arms and noiseless drum. Now whispered curses, low and deep. Around the holy temple creep; The gate is burst ; a ruffian band Rush in, and savagely demand, With brutal voice and oath profane, The startled boy for exile's chain. The mother sprang with gesture wild. And to her bosom clasped her child; Then, with pale cheek and flashing eye. Shouted with fearful energy, "Back, ruffi.ins, back ! nor dare to tread Too near the body of my dead ; Nor touch the living boy; I stand Between him and your lawless band. Take me, and bind these arms — these hands,— With Russia's heaviest iron bands. And drag me to Siberia's wild To perish, if 't will save my child !" ' Peace, woman, peace !" the leader cried. Tearing the pale boy from her side. And in his ruffian grasp he bore His victim to the temple door. 300 READIiVCS AND RECITALS. "One moment!" shrieked the mother; "one I Will land or gold redeem my son ? Take heritage, take name, take all, Lut leave him free from Russian thrall! Take these !" and her white arms and hands She stripped of rings and diamond bands, And tore from braids of long black hair The gems that gleamed like starlight there : Her cross of blazing rubies, last, Down at the Russian's feet she cast. He stooped to seize the glittering store ; — Up springing from the marble floor. The mother, with a cry of joy. Snatched to her leaping heart the boy. But no ! the Russian's iron grasp Again undid the mother's clasp. Forward she fell, with one long cry Of more than mortal agony. But the brave child is roused at length, And, breaking from the Russian's hold. He stands, a giant in the strength Of his young spirit, fierce and bole' Proudly he towers ; his flashing eye. So blue, and yet so bright. Seems kindled from the eternal sky. So brilliant is its light. His curling lips and crimson cheeks Foretell the thought before he speak";; AVith a full voice of proud command He turned upon the wondering bands "Ye hold me not ! no ! no, nor can ; This hour has made the boy a man. I knelt before my slaughtered sire. Nor felt one throb of vengeful ire. I wept upon his marble brow. Yes, wept ! I was a child ; but now My noble mother, on her knee, Hath done the work of years for me !" He drew aside his broidered vest, And there, like slumbering serpent's crest, The jeweled haft of poniard bright Glittered a moment on the sight. "Ha! start ye back? Fool! coward! knave t Think ye my noble father's glaive Woijld drink the life-blood of a slave ? The pearls that on the handle flame Would blush to rubies in their shame ; READINGS AND RECITALS. 301 The blade would quiver in thy breast Ashamed of such ignoble rest. No! thus I rend the tyrant's chain. And fling him back a boy's disdain !" A moment, and the funeral light Flashed on the jeweled weapon bright : Another, and his young heart's blood Leaped to the floor, a crimson flood. Quiclc to his mother's side he sprang, And on the air his clear voice rang: " Up, mother, up ! I'm free ! I'm free! The choice was death or slavery. Up, mother, up ! Look on thy son ! His freedom is forever won ; And now he waits one holy kiss To bear his father home in bliss; One last embrace, one blessing, — one ! To prove thou knowest, approvest tliy son. What I silent yet ? Canst thou not feel My warm blood o'er thy heart congeal ? Speak, mother, speak ! lift up thy head ! What I silent still? Then art thou dead ! Great God, I thank thee! Mother, I Rejoice with thee, — and thus — to die." One long, deep breath, and his pale head Lay on his mother's bosom, — dead. Ann S. Stephens. HOW HE SAVED ST. MICHAEL'S. [Excellent opportunity for a good reading will be found in the following "tale of the Southern city, proud Charleston by the sea."] It was long ago it happened, ere ever the signal gun That blazed above Fort Sumpter had wakened the North as one ; Long ere the wondrous pillar of battle-cloud and fire Had marked where the unchained millions marched on to their hearts' desire. m the roofs and the glittering turrets, that night, as the sun went down, The mellow glow of the twilight shone like a jeweled crown ; And, bathed in the living gloiy, as the people lifted their eyes. They saw ine pride of the city, the scire of St. Michael's, rise 302 XEADIXCS AXD RECITALS. High over the lesser steeples, tipped with a golden ball, That hung like a radiant planet caught in its earthward fall, — First glimpse of home to the sailor who made the harbor-round. And last slow-fading vision dear to the outward bound. The gently gathering shadows shut out the waning light; The children prayed at their bedsides, as you will pray to-night; The noise of buyer and seller from the busy mart was gone ; And in dreams of a peaceful morrow the city slumbered on. But another light than sunrise aroused the sleeping street; Fnr a cry was heard at midnight, and the rush of trampling feet ; Men stared in each other's faces through mingled fire and smoke. While the frantic bells went clashing, clamorous stroke on stroke. By the glare of her blazing roof-tree the houseless mother fled. With the babe she pressed to her bosom shrieking in nameless dread. While the fire-king's wild battalions scaled wall and capstone high. And planted their flaring banners against an inky sky. For the death that raged behind them, and the crash of ruin loud. To the great square of the city were driven the surging crowd ; Where yet, firm in all the tumult, unscathed by the fiery flood. With its heavenward-pointing finger the Church of St. Michael stood. But e'en as they gazed upon it there rose a sudden wail, — A cry of horror, blended with the roaring of the gale. Oil whose scorching wings up-driven, a single flaming brand Aloft on the towering steeple clung like a bloody hand. " Will it fade ?" The whisper trembled from a thousand whitening lips; Far out on the lurid harbor, they watched it from the ships, — A baleful gleam that brighter and ever brighter shone. Like a flickering, trembling will-o'-wisp to a steady beacon grown. " Uncounted gold shall be given to the man whose brave right hand. Fur the love of the periled city, plucks down yon burning brand !" S ) cried the mayor of Charleston, that all the people heard ; But they looked each one at his fellow ; and no man spoke a word Who is it leans from the belfry, with face upturned to the sky. Clings to a column, and measures the dizzy spire with his eye? Will he date it, the hero undaunted, that terrible sickening height? Or will the hot blood of his courage freeze in his veins at the sight ? HEADINGS AND RECITALS. 303 But see! he has stepped on the railing; he climbs with his feet an RECITALS. " Guidwife," quoth John, '' did you see that moose? Whar sorra was the cat ?" " A moose ?" " Ay, a moose." " Na, na, Guidman,— It wasiia 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 rat! 'twas a moose !" •' I've seen mair mice than you, Guidman— An' what think ye o' that ? Sae hand your tongue an' say nae mair — I tell ye, it was a rat." '•Me baud my tongue (or j'ou, Guidwife 1 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 toastiii' 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 !" " Wad ye ca' me a leear to my very face ? My faith, but ye craw croose ! 1 tell ye, Tib, I never will bear 't— 'Twas a moose!" " 'Twas a rat 1" " 'Twas a moose!" READINGS AMD RECITALS. 343 Wi' her spoon she struck him ovver the pow' — " Ye dour' auld doit,' tak' that — Gae to your bed, ye cankered sumph* — 'Twas a rat !" " Twas a moosel" " '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 steekit' the door, And cried, " 'Twas a moose 1 'twas a moosel" But, when the carle ' was fast asleep, She paid him back for that. And roar'd into his sleeping lug,* " 'Twas a rat ! 'twas a rat 1 'twas a rat I" The de'il be wi' me if I think It was a beast at a' I — Neist mornin', as she sweepit the flulr, She faund wee Johnny's ba' I THE MAIDEN MARTYR. (A touching incident in the history of the Scotch Covenanters.] A traop 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. SStubbora. 'Dolt. < [ll-natured fool » Limped. 'Shut 'Man filir 344 READLXGS A.VD 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 haked ; all the shining sands Lay bare and glistening ; for the tide had Drawn back to its farthest margin's weedy marV, And each succeeding wave, with flash and curve. That seemed to mock the sabres on the shore. Drew nearer by a hairbreadth. " It will he 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, witli the oath Renouncing and adjuring part with all The persecuted, covenanted fold. But both refused the oath : " Because," they said, " Unless with Clirist's dear servants we have part, We have no part with Him." On this they look 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 peaces *' 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!" READINGS AND RECITALS. 34i 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 slake the soldier led her Down, and tied her hands; and round her Slender wai.->t loo roii'^hiy cast the rope, for Windram came and loused it while he whimpered in her ear, " Come take the test, and ye are free," \nd one cried, " Margaret, say but 'God save The King!' " "God save the King of His greu grace," ihe answered, but the oath she would not lake. And slill the tide flowed in, And drove the people back an I silenced them. Vhe tide flowed in, and rising to her knee*;, She sang the psalm, " To Tliee I lift my soul ;" The tide flowed in, and rising to her waist, " To I'hee, my God, I lift my soul," she sang. The tide flowed in, and rising to her throat, ^lie sang no more, but lifted up her face, — And tliere 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 ths jurying 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 fasi. 34G XEADL\CS AAD RECITALS. To yield to that foe meant worse than death, And the mtn and we all worked on; It was one day mure 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 T 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 ! I ken it weel; 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. 84V 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' ! 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 shook 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 down. 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. ?,4S 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 lo 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 tlie warmer breath of spring,— My pulses, even now, beat fast, To scent again the air of the ring ! The canvas, sir, is the only place In which I feel at home, you see ; Ami a brownstune front, with Brussels and lace, Would be as bad as the Tombs for me J 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 clo7vn ? Well , no sir, no ; I've done a little in every line — Was principal ri.ler, years ago. But fell one night and injured my spine. READINGS AND RECITALS. 34& 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 1 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 1 I wish thai 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 the 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 ! 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 1 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! Well, we were wed, and for a time Our lives seemed one long summer day— ' As merry as a marriage chime," — 1 think that's what the stories say. But ah, how soon it ended, sir ! Tlie ro.id and canvas — life to me — Proved all too rough and hard for her. She drooped beneath the weight, you see. 3o£ KEADIXGS AXD RECITALS. I watched her, heavy-hearted fail ; I tried to thinlc she would not die; I saw her rounded cheek grow pale, — The lustre fade from out her eye ; 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> Who'd think of sorrow in a clown ? My business is to spin that hatl 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. Vamiyke r.ROWN. READINGS AND RECITALS. 3Sl BHAMUS O'BRIEN. [The Buld Boy of Glingall.] Jist afther the war, in Ihe year '98, As soon as the boys wor all scattered and bate, 'Tvvas the custom, whenever a pisant was got, To hang him by thrial — barrin' sich as was shot. There was thrial by jury goin' on by daylight, And the martial-law hangin' the lavins by night. It's lliem was hard times for an honest gossoon : If he missed in the judges — he'd meet a dragoon; All' whether the sodgers or judges gev sentencL-, The deil a much time they allowed for repentance. An' it's many's the fine lioy 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 buy 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 re J; 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 illiganlest hurler that ever was seen. An' his dancin' was sich that 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 res^ 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 clo^e on ycu soon. 852 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 friend-; 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 ! An' twelve sodgers brought him to Maryborough jail. An' the 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 kera over him there As gentle an' soft as the sweet summer air; An' happy remembrances crowding on ever. As fa'^t as the foam-flaUes dhtift down on the river. Bringing fresh to his heart merry days long gone by. Till tlie 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 pile cheek to start; An' he sprang to his feet in the dirk 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; His bosom might bleed, but his cheek 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 sldl 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 AXD RECITALS. ih% An Jim di