^ ;■** .- , ^ ' 8 * - iP°* "be c- A TEN WEEKS' Course in Elocution BY J, V. COOMBS Formerly Professor of English Literature and Elocution in Eureka College, Eureka, III. ASSISTED BY VIRGIL A. PINKLEY Principal of the Department of Elocution in School of Music, Cincinnati, Ohio REVISED AND ENLARGED BY C. H. HARNE Professor of Elocution and Reading in Salina Normal University, Saltna, Kan. Copyright 1884, by J. r. Coombs Copyright 1891, by J. E. Sherrill Copyright 1899, by Hinds &= Noble HINDS & NOBLE, Publishers 4-5-6-1 2-1 3-14 Cooper Institute New York City School Books of All Publishers at One Store 1 copy a. Of Interest To You We have a more thoroughly per- fected system and better facilities for furnishing promptly books of all pub- lishers than any other house in the country. Our business is divided into de- partments, each under a superintend- ent, so that every detail is carefully looked after. We deal only in School and College books, of which we carry an immense stock. We are able to supply at re- duced prices any schoolbook published. We isSufc t at *£6mplete catalogue of ffcese r4Q 3 PART I. How to Teach a Child to Read «••«.«,. «-..•*»... 5 PART II. DICTIONARY WORK. 1. Pronunciation 17 2. Key to Pronunciation 19 3. Elementary Sounds , 22 4. Principles of Pronunciation 27 5. Articulation „ 30 6. Words often Mispronounced .« 32 PART III. 1. How to Teach Beading..... 34 2. Examples for Practice 43 PART IV. ELOCUTION. 1. Art of Delivery .....«....««,,« 49 2. Outline of Elocution 51 3. Plan of Studies = .. 51 4. Elements 52 5. Respiration 54 6. Breathing 55 7. Formulas 57 8. Articulation 64 9. Orthoepy 73 10. Vocal Culture 88 11. Exercises for Drill .-,, „ 90 12. Quality = 106 13. Vocal Expression 112 14. Volume 116 VI CONTENTS. 15. Kate... , 119 16. Gesture 123 17. Suggestions 138 1. To Ministers 138 2. To Lawyers 139 PAET V. ALPHABETICAL LIST OF SELECTIONS. A Abou Ben Adhem 148 Ambition of a Statesman 340 Annabel Lee 145 Asleep at the Switch 321 AtElberon 160 Awfully Lovely Philosophy 224 B Baby's First Toot 240 Bald-Headed Man, The 310 Barbara Frietchie 188 Bangs 206 Baron's Last Banquet, The 209 Bells, The 165 Bells of Shandon,The 281 Bill and 1 262 Blacksmith's Story, The 173 Boot-Blacks 254 Botany 200 Brakeman at Church 336 Bridge, The 334 Broken Hearts 267 Brutus and Cassius 217 Bugle Song ' 150 Burrs Trial 255 C Cato's Soliloquy 276 Chewing Gum 233 Coquette Punished 230 Courtship Under Difficulties.... 284 CONTENTS. Vll Creeds of the Bells, The 370 Crime its Own Detecter 331 Curfew Must not Eing To-Night 313 Curing a Cold 183 D David's Lament over Absalom 222 Demagogue, The 362 Dot Baby of Mine 232 Dot Lambs Vot Mary Haf Got 272 Dutchman's Serenade 269 E Entertaining Sister's Beau 234 Eulogy on Garfield.... 352 Extract from a Sermon on the Death of Abraham Lincoln... 372 F Fall of Pemberton Mills 175 .Famine, The 166 Farm-Yard Song 374 Forty Years Ago 143 Foxes' Tails, The 344 Freckled-Faced Girl, The 2S3 Fretting 260 G Gape-Seed 251 - Good Beading 359 Grattan's Reply to Mr. Corry 319 Grave, The 266 Gray's Elegy 161 Green Mountain Justice 228 H Hamlet's Instruction to the Player 365 Henry V. at Harfleur 352 Horatius at the Bridge 360 How He Saved St. Michael 366 How " Ruby " Played 297 How We Hunted a Mouse 291 I If We Knew 146 Interesting Traveling Companion, An 148 Vlll CONTENTS. E Katie Lee and Willie Gray 318 Kentucky Belle 195 Kentucky Philosophy 170 L Lady Clara Vere de Vere 171 Last Hymn, The 270 Little Hatchet Story, The 306 Liberty and Union 242 Literary Nightmare, A 235 Little Jim 173 M Maclaine's Child 329 Maud Muller 190 Man's a Man for a' That, A 193 Marmion and Douglas 223 Marco Bozzaris 157 Mark Twain and the Interviewer 152 Massachusetts and South Carolina 355 Model American Girl 249 Moneyless Man, The 309 Modulation 376 Mrs. Lofty 164 My Trundle Bed 273 N Naughty Little Girl 211 O Oh! Why Should the Spirit of Mortal be Proud? 274 Our Folks 312 Over The Kiver 158 Owl Critic 226 P Paul Revere's Eide 381 Paul's Defense before Agrippa 384 Paradise and the Peri 203 Parrhasius 198 Pilot, The 151 Pitt's Reply to Walpole 252 Polish Boy 341 Pyramids not all Egyptian b77 CONTENTS. IX E Eainy Day, A« 183 Eaven,The 386 Eide of Jennie McNeal, The 185 Eiding on the Eail 325 Eising of 1776 247 Pock of Ages 147 Bural Life in England 246 S Scene From Hamlet 302 Schooling a Husband 243 Scott and the Veteran 364 Scrooge and Marley 369 Seven Sticks, The 160 Setting a Hen 215 Sheridan's Eide 389 Ship on Fire, The ..... 305 Shores of Tennessee, On the . 219 Sister and 1 390 South Carolina .' 354 Stay on the Farm '. 214 Spartacus to the Gladiator 315 Speak Gently 159 Spoopendyke's Burglars 276 Supposed Speech of James Otis 323 T Thanatopsis •• 357 Tom the Drummer Boy 327 Too Late for the Train 256 ^Transportation of Mitchell 263 Trial of Endurance, A 293 U Uncle Daniel's Introduction 179 Uncle Tom and the Hornets 279 V Vagabonds, The 393 W Water Mill 271 Western School-Ma'am, The 290 Whistle, The 247 Woman's a Woman for a' That, A 194 Workingmen's Song 265 ll^ll^jePii? 1 ^ J^ Jti J^ Jt ^ Xi ^ 3 ±tt= *t ^tt= **= ^* ^«P *\= :**= *t *^ *t 6^ia ttWt u-pi-dee. ttbji A new Co-ed has alighted in town, jM U-pi-dee, U-pi-da! J+W+ f\ v f] In an up-to-datest tailor-made gown,U-pi-de-i-da I f\ v ff hull The boys are wild, and prex is, too, itUii 51/3 You never saw such a hulla-ba-loo. Cf/C Hull CHORUS. - U-pi-dee-i-dee-i-da 1 etc. jffWI Her voice is clear as a soaring lark's, 8W$ And her wit is like those trolley-car sparks 1 ifHH> •n" TT There's always a strife to sit in her pew; ff ft ui a 'Tis enough to make a parson drunk, UUU 111/11 To hear her sing old co-ca-che-lunk 1 Jftyff jli a, The above, and three other NEW verses to U-PI-DEE, u , „ jJWJ and NEW WORDS, catchy, up-to-date, to many fJt?TI if others of the popular OLD FAMILIAR TUNES; be- 1T 1 lAUU sides OLD FAVORITES ; and also many NEW SONGS. UUU ft tt SONGS OF ALL THE COLLEGES. fT ft tiMJ Oopj"g h t» Price, $1.50, postpaid. 1900. j+WJ xluu HINDS & NOBLE, Publishers, New York City, ^uu ft it Schoolbooks of all publishers at one store, {["ft 1 =**= **= *t =W= *t **= **= :**= =** *t **: I 1 :«; :*=*= :»= =»? :«= *t *t :«: :«p =tt= *t I PREFACE. In teaching elocution the author has felt the need of a book dif- ferent from what he could secure., Many good books on theory are to be found. Choice selections are abundant. But to secure a book that contained proper exercises for drills, and also a variety of popular selections, is impossible. In order to select fifteen or twenty selections for a reading class, or an elocutionary contest, many books would have to be usedo To meet this want this vol- ume has been prepared. In Part I. the author has given what he considers the best way to teach beginners how to read, Part II. gives a full discussion of Dictionary work. Part III. contains hints and suggestions to teachers of Heading. Part IV. is a full discussion of the elements of Elocution. Part V. contains the most popular selections now in use. Among them the entire programme of most of the popu- lar elocutionists and readers can be found. The author has col- lected all grades and sentiments of recitations — Humorous, Dra- matic, Oratorical, and Didactic. The author desires to make grateful acknowledgments for the assistance he has receivedo Prof. V. A. Pinkley prepared all of Part IV., and is entirely responsible for the same. This part is a condensed elocution, and it will certainly do much to elevate the art of elocution. Prof. Warren McBroom, of Crawfordsville, Ind., prepared the chapter on Elementary Sounds. The article, How to Teach Beading, was prepared by S. E. Thomas, President of Kentucky University, Paducah, Ky. That this book may aid teachers in their work is the sincere hope of the author. J. VINCENT COOMBS. (1) INTRODUCTION. Elocution is the expression of thought by word and action^ In order to become a good reader three things are necessary : A good VOICE, A CORRECT PRONUNCIATION, A FORCIBLE EXPRESSION., To obtain a forcible voice is not difficult. Some say : " My voice is too feeble ; I can never become a speaker." Should they lie in the shade one year without exercise or sunshine, they would have feeble muscles. Practice will give any one a voice of sufficient force to be heard clearly in any hall in the land. Go to work at once and acquire a good voice. Put the voice to its severest test. In balmy weather, go out in the groves and practice on a high key # Then on a low key. Do not be alarmed should you get hoarse the first time. Try again. If a person has not been accustomed to walking, the first few hours' walk will greatly fatigue him. But let him practice walking each day and he will become accustomed to it. Occasionally the race-horse is put to his severest test. So the voice must occasionally be tested. This will give the voice flexibility and ease. The greater part of practice should be on a conversational key, but occasional practice in shouting tones will develop the voice rapidly. Many speakers find their voices harsh and uncontrollable at the beginning of an address, but at the close the voice is in " fine condition." Much annoyance may be avoided by practicing on different pitches of the voice for a half hour. The practice may be severe. Begin lightly and increase to shouting tones. The last part of the practice should also be moderate. This should be done one or two hours before the time for delivering the address. To break up bad articulation practice with the mouth full of pebbles, marbles, or smooth hickory nuts. The author has tried this plan often, and is satisfied that it is worthy attention. Fill (3) 4 INTRODUCTION. the mouth full and attempt to read one or two pages. Then remove the pebbles and read a few pages. The organs of speech will now be as " sportive as the swallow and as versatile as the streamlet." Let public speakers who are annoyed with indistinct articulation try this plan. A correct pronunciation is a necessary element to good reading. Often an uncouth pronunciation ruins the effect of**an entire ad' dress. Speakers should carefully guard against vulgar pronuncia- tions. This subject is fully discussed in Part II. A vivid expression is necessary. Thought is antecedent to everything. First get the thought. Expression is giving out. Many persons attempt to give out before they have anything to give out. Before reading a selection ask yourself the following ques- tions : 1. Who wrote this selection? 2. Why did he write it ? 3. Under what surroundings did he write it? 4. What would be the condition of the mind of a person who would write such a selection? 5. How would he express it ? 6. How would I feel under similar surroundings ? 7. How would I express that feeling were I under similar sur- roundings ? It is not enough to tell a person to read naturally. Suppose a man has walked in a stooped condition for ten years, and you tell him when he goes before an audience that he must stand up straight and be natural. He would certainly assume a very awk- ward and unnatural attitude. Before he can give your idea of naturalness you must elevate the creature. He must practice standing straight behind the counter, in the parlor, and walk straight upon the street. If a person never laughed it would be impossible to teach him elocutionarily how to laugh. On the con- trary, you would be compelled to place the person in cheerful so- ciety, and first have him laugh from the heart. To be natural io to be what you are. If you are not a model in naturalness you must elevate the creature. PART I. HOW TO TEACH A CHILD TO READ. Close observers conclude that- the surest way to se- cure a nation of temperance people is to educate the children in the habits of sobriety. Neglected home training necessitates temperance laws. So the best way to secure good readers is to begin correctly in the pri- mary school. Bad teaching in primary grades neces- sitates elocutionists. The chief work of the elocution- ist is to undo what the primary teacher has done ; to right what has been thus made wrong. The child comes into the school room heralding the mastery of its first clay's journey with that ringing laugh and sportive speech that challenge the admira- tion of the most gifted orator or polished elocutionist. The teacher makes rapid haste to destroy this natural sweetness of expression. In a few days this sportive expression is changed to a drawling school style. Ten years pass. The elocutionist comes forward to reap a rich harvest from the bad teaching in the pri- mary department. The child has learned to talk well. One thing I would impress upon the teacher; let the child continue to talk well ; let the silvery speech heard on the play-ground be heard in the reading class. The teacher who can not teach reading can not teach (5) 6 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. school, for reading is the key to knowledge. Most of the failures in reading can be traced to the bad teach- ing of primary and intermediate teachers. When the child gets thought by the eye (written words), it should express the sentiment in the same easy manner that it does when, it gets the thought through the ear. I would have the teacher to remem- ber, and to keep on remembering, that the eye is as quick to know a word as is the ear, and if properly trained the child will comprehend the word cat just as quickly by seeing it as by hearing it. LANGUAGE. Learning to Talh — The child learns to talk before it is sent to school. Its parents are its teachers. Happy is the child whose parent-teachers instruct it correctly ! The child's first lesson in language is learning to talk. It hears words used and learns them by imitation and association. How a Child Learns to Talh. — We have numerous methods of teaching children to read, but mothers do not meet in state associations and discuss the best meth- ods of teaching the child to talk. Common sense guides the mother. She certainly does her work well. She does not begin by teaching the child the elementary sounds of the language, neither does she begin with an entire sentence. How ludicrous it would be to see a mother attentively teaching the child the sounds of the word papa. Common sense tells her that the child first acquires ideas (words), then relations (sentences). The child learns the word as a whole. After it has learned a few object-words, papa, hat, book, cat, bed, etc., it begins to learn relations. It does not learn the spoken word cat by hearing it. It must see the object. You might repeat the word cat a thousand times, yet the child gets no idea. But say cat, and point to the cat, and the child will, in its baby way, say "catty." HOW TO TEACH A CHILD TO BEAD. 7 It gets the idea by association. It associates the spo- ken word cat, with the real object. After a few words have been learned the child begins to acquire thought. The mother says, "the cat is on the bed." The child sees the position of the cat and at once says, "cat on bed." Purely by hearing the words and seeing the re- lations it learns the sentence. No mother teaches a child such words as is, here, the. The child learns these in the sentence and by imitation. Learning to Bead. — After the child has learned to talk fluently and acquired a vocabulary of spoken words, it may take a second lesson in language, learning to read. This work should not begin too early in life. It is not wise to begin teaching a child to read until it has ac- quired much knowledge of objects and relations of ob- jects. , Children are greatly injured in being sent to school too early. The questions that now confront us are : How shall we begin ? What method shall we adopt ? Let me say right here, that the proper place to begin is where the mother left off. No new way is necessary. Let us here recapitulate : In learning to talk the child acquires knowledge, as follows: 1. It learns ideas, the words as wholes. 2. Relations of words. 3. It associates the spoken word with the idea. 4. The child forms these words into sentences and has thoughts. In talking, the child has learned words by hearing; now it is to learn by seeing. The child should not be permitted to read a sentence until it recognizes the writ- ten word by seeing it just as perfectly as it does the spoken word by hearing it. In one case the word is heard ; in the other it is seen. In teaching a child to read, there should be the slightest change possible from the general method of learning to talk. If we follow out this plan there will not be much dispute about methods. Methods. — There" are several methods of teaching a 8 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. child to read. Those most generally used are as fol- lows i 1. Alphabetic, 2. Phonic 3. Sentence 4. Word Method. 1. Alphabetic. — The alphabetic method begins by teaching the child the letters. The child repeats the letters from A to Z, and from Z to A. This method is objectionable ; it is in opposition to the plan used in learning to talk. Letters are fractions of words, and we should not begin with fractions. It would be just as sensible to begin the study of arithmetic at fractionSo The word is the unit of language. 2. Phonic Method. — The phonic method begins with the sound of the letters. This certainly is the correct way to learn pronunciation, but it is not the way to learn to read. The child learns to talk without think- ing of the elements of the word. It should learn to read in the same way. It would be as reasonable for the mother to begin to teach the child to talk by first giving it a lesson in the elementary sounds of the lan- guage as to begin teaching reading in that manner. 3. Sentence Method. — The sentence method be- gins with the sentence as the unit of language. This is objection able* It assumes that the sentence is the unit of language. Certainly the word is the unit. We should begin with units, and not with their combina- tion. 4. Word Method. — The word method is the true method, for the following reasons : 1. It coincides with the manner of learning to talk. The child first learns the word as a whole. You do not teach the child that this is a leg, this a head, this a foot, j this a tail, and after learning all its parts say "these things make a cat." No ! You teach the word cat as a whole. 2. Language begins with words, and not letters or sentences. 3o This method proceeds from the known to the un- HOW TO TEACH A CHILD TO READ. 9 known. We begin with the spoken word and pass to the written. 4. It passes from the whole to the part analytically. Learning a Vocabulary of Printed Words. — -Learning to read is learning a vocabulary of words. The ques- tion is, what is the best way to learn a vocabulary of words? It is plain common sense to continue as in learning to talk, by presenting the object to the eye of the child. The word must be learned as a whole. What words should be taught first? 1. Familiar Spoken Words. — The child has ac- quired a vocabulary of spoken words, and these words should be the first to be presented. Meaningless words, ba, be, bi, etc., should be discarded. 2. Object Words. — The first words taught should be the names of objects. Manner of Teaching a Vocabulary. — The teacher holds up a hat and says : " What is this?" The correct an- swer follows. Here a few words may be said to create an interest. The teacher now draws the picture of the hat on the board and continues: "What is this?" All will say, "That is a hat." Well enough. Do not worry the patience of pupils in making an elaborate explanation, showing the difference between a real hat and the "picture of the hat. The child knows the dif- ference. Ideas are what you are after now. Once tell- ing a child is sufficient. With chalk in hand the teacher says : " Now, you watch me and I will make the word hat. This word here on the board is the word hat. When you see this (referring to the object hat) you think of what?" " We think of a hat." " When you see this picture, you think of what?" "We think of a hat also." " Yes, that is correct. Well, now, when you see this word you think of what ? " " We think of a hat again." "Yes ; now watch me make the word. Do you think you can make it ? You may try it shortly. Will you know the word hat whenever you see it ? Let 10 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. us see. I will write several words as follows: Cat, man, hat, cap, dog, fa.n, cap, hat, bat, hat. Who can show me the word hat?" Here let the children notice differences. Most of them will select the correct word. If some point out the wrong word, let the class get into debate about the matter. The teacher continues : u You may now go to your seats, take your slates and see if you can draw that word hat" In the same way teach other words. It is remarkable how rapidly children will learn these words. After ten or twelve words have been learned, the teacher may say : " Now let us have a chalk talk. You bring me what I write on the board." The teacher writes hat, cap, book, fan, and several ob- jects accessible, and different members of the class bring him the objects. After fifteen or twenty words have been perfectly learned, words that are not names of ob- jects may be presented. All words that are not names of objects should be learned in phrases and sentences. Never attempt to teach the article the, the adjectives, conjunctions or verbs by themselves, but always teach them in the sentence. The child, in learning to talk, was never taught the, is, run, etc. It simply learned these words by relations. The teacher^ holding up a fan, says : " What kind of a fan is this?" "A black fan," is the reply. "Now I will sav, with the chalk, what you have said. What does the chalk say ? " "A black fan." " Yes, that is right. I will now change the word. What does the chalk say?" The teacher erases fan, and writes hat. The pupils will then say, a black hat. Several words may be substituted instead of fan, leaving A black the same all the time. I said before that after fifteen or twenty words are perfectly learned, the sentence might be introduced. I want to emphasize the word perfectly. The child must learn these object words so well that when it sees the word hat it knows it just as quickly as if you should have spoken the word. There is no reason why the child ought not to get the idea Adjust HOW TO TEACH A CHILD TO BEAD. 11 as quickly by seeing the word as by hearing the word. So see to it, that before the sentence is introduced/ the child has learned perfectly fifteen or twenty names of objects. After a few words of quality, black, red, white, etc., have been taught in phrases, lead the child to say, " The hat is black." Here you have introduced one new word. When the child has said the hat is black, write the sentence on the board and continue : " What does the chalk say ?" " The chalk said, ' The hat is black?" Very well. Tell me now what the chalk says: " The cat is black." "What does the chalk say ? " " The cat is black." This exercise may be continued to suit the teacher. Change one word, then the other, leaving is the same all the time. When fifteen or twenty changes have been made, call the child's attention to the new word. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred the child will tell you what the word is. It has learned is in the sentence just as it did in learning to talk. No one taught it. Never let the child stop to call a word. Let the words be thoroughly familiar. The child does not stop to think of the words in the sentence, " The man is in the house," when talk- ing. It must see the sentence as clearly as it hears it. When from one hundred to one hundred and fifty words have been learned, let the teacher say to the children: "To-day we will have a chalk-talk. You may do just what the chalk says. Ready." The teacher, remaining perfectly silent, writes, and the children per- form : "Stand up," "Sit down," "Come here," "Go to your seat," " Lift your right hand," " Put your hand on your head," " On your nose," " Bring me a book." This exercise may be continued at the pleasure of the teacher. Never continue any exercise until it becomes irksome. When the child has learned its little vocabu- lary, write fifteen or twenty words on the board, and permit the child to make sentences. Here the child takes its first lesson in original composition. This is 12 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. the proper place to begin composition. Should the teacher write cat, hat, black, tame, is, on, a table, the chair, the, a, runs, etc., the child will quickly learn to form sentences. Never write the articles without the nouns. Let the children tell (read) what they have written on the slate. Allow no drawling. Stop it. THE FIKST KEADEE. When the child has learned from one hundred to one hundred and fifty words perfectly, the First Reader may be introduced. Begin the first reading lesson with a chalk-talk. Teach all new words according to the word method. After all new words (if there be any) are taught, permit the children to copy two or three sen- tences on their slates. Let them, then read, in a pure conversational manner, these sentences. The reader may now be used. Be sure that the child reads natur- ally. Halting at words should not be tolerated un- der any consideration. If proper care has been taken in teaching the vocabulary of one hundred and fifty words, but few new words will need to be taught, and you will be surprised that the child will read fluently the first twenty pages of the First Reader. Before a lesson is read, have the pupils write it upon slates. Pay special attention to writing, spelling, capi- talization and punctuation. You will see that the First Reader, slate and pencil are all the child needs. You can teach spelling and writing better in this manner than by making them separate studies. Some may ask, "What do you mean by saying teach the child to write?" I mean just what I say; I would begin the work with script. Let the child learn the script. When you desire to change to print write a short story on the board. Let it remain all day. Next morning print the same story and the children will read it off at once. If you prefer it, change a few words at first. Let these be words in which the script letters and print letters re- HOW TO TEACH A CHILD TO EEAD. 13 semble. These simple means will be sufficient to make the transition, yet many prefer to begin with the printed characters. With them I shall have no quarrel. Every one uses his own opinion. I do not know as one method has much advantage of the other. Question the child upon the lessen. Do not permit the child to give a thought before it gets the thought. Emphasis and Inflection.— -Pay no attention to em- phasis and. inflection. This may seem strange doctrine to some, but yet I think I am correct. When you hear the child make a wrong emphasis you know that it has missed the thought. Lead it to get the thought and it will use proper expression. Thought controls em- phasis. Children have enviable modulation in talk- ing. Let them see the thought and they will read it with the same charm. Do not mar their natural sweet expression by trying to teach mechanical emphasis. The mother says to the child: "Run into the room and tell papa that the knife is on the table." The child rushes into the room and says : " Papa, the knife is on the table." The mother does not pause to teach the little fellow to emphasize knife and table. It has the thought, and it gives the sentiment as perfectly as a Forest or a Keats. Reading is getting thought by means of printed words. The child may call the words fluently, and yet not read. The emphasis and inflection tell you whether the child has the thought. Every reading lesson ought to be a lesson in com- position. I hope to see the day when reading and composition will be taught together. One will aid the other. The child will express its own thoughts cor- rectly. When a story has been read, ask the class to write on the slate one thing that has been said. Per- mit each pupil to read what has been written. Give the class a picture, and ask each one to write one thing that she sees in the picture ; two things, three things, all. 14 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. The child has now learned to read the easy lessons in the First Reader. Let some of the class bring lit- tle stories from other First Readers and read to the class. No reader affords sufficient easy reading lessons. Phonies.- — When the child can read the easy lessons, phonics should be introduced in order to aid the child in pronouncing new words. Henceforth, the Word Method and Phonic Method should be combined. Be- fore this the children will have learned all the letters* When teaching the word hat, talk about h, a, and t. The child will learn the names by hearing them used. Now you must teach the sounds, I can not enlarge upon this point. If the teacher desires further in- struction, I refer him to the chapter on Dictionary Work in this volume. I would not tell pupils that I was teaching phonics. That sounds too big. Col. Parker calls the exercise slow pronunciation. Let the teacher say : " We will now have an exercise in slow pronunciation (or if preferred), spelling by sounds. You listen, and tell me what I say. C — a — t. "What did I say ? " Most of the pupils will say " cat." Let the teacher pronounce slowly several words and ask the children to imitate. Arrange a list of words contain- ing similar sounds. Drill the class daily upon the elementary sounds. This exercise will serve a double purpose—a lesson in phonics, and a drill in voice cul- ture. A MODEL LESSON. THE HEN AND CHICKENS. Oh, mamma; I see a hen and six little white chickens. They are wider the rose-bush. May I go out and see the chickens and get me a red rose ? The art of questioning is of high value to the teacher. Let the teacher begin as follows : 1. Who are the per- sons talking in this lessons. (This lesson should be HOW TO TEACH A CHILD TO BEAD. 15 preceded by a picture containing a little girl, her moth- er, hen and chickens and a bunch of rose bashes.) 2. What. are they talking about? 3. How many chick- ens? 4. What color are the chickens? 5. Where are they ? 6. What is the color of the roses. 7. What did the little girl want to do ? 8. Of whom did she ask this question ? After a thorough questioning the child is ready to read, and it can read with the understanding. These lines will be sufficient for one lesson. Strive to make the pictures as real as possible. Draw many mental pictures. See that the child has the same expression when it talks from the book that it has when it talks from pictures and real objects. The little girl is oat at play. She sees the cat on the gate, and she runs into the house and says : " Oh, ma, I see the cat on the gate!" She has obtained the thought by seeing the objects. Xow you draw the pic- ture, and looking at it the girl repeats the same thought, "the cat is on the gate." The next day her mother sees the cat on the gate and says to the little girl : " Go tell Willie the cat is on the gate." The little girl runs out in the back yard and says to Willie : " The cat is on the gate." She has expressed the thought three times. Each time the ex- pression was faultless. Xow, the mother writes on the slate "the cat is on the gate." The child gets the thought by written words, and she will say still in her cheerful way, "the cat is on the gate." She has ob- tained the thought in four ways: 1. By seeing the objects. 2. By seeing the picture. 3. By hearing the sentence spoken. 4 S By seeing the sentence written. She should express the thought just as agreeably in one case as in the other, and she will unless some person attempts to drill her to read according to the rules of elo- cution. Let the teacher take little lessons like the fol- lowing and bring out all the mental pictures. Many 16 TEN" WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. teachers would be profited by going back and learning to read these easy lessons : " Kitty has a nice pet. It can sing a sweet song. She has just fed it. She will now put it in the cage, and hang the cage up. Then the cat can not catch it." THE STAR "Mamma, I can see a pretty star. Did you ever go to a star, mamma? O no, I never went to a star. If I get into the cars, and ride, ever so far, can I get to the star ? No, the cars never go to the star. If I had wings, like a bird, I would fly to the star. What? Go so far from mamma? O, but mamma, you would go too." THE CHAIE. " Do you see the chair ? What kind of chair is it? It is an arm-chair. Can the boy sit on the chair? The chair has four legs and a back. This chair has two arms. We have some chairs like this at home. We can sit on them when we want to rest. You must not cut the chair with your knife. Let the chair stand near the stove." Question pupils upon the lessons. What has Kitty? What is she doing? Why does she keep the bird in a cage ? Occasionally write a funny little story on the board and let pupils read it. Permit children to copy their lessons. "Teach the child to do; educate the hand." PART II. DICTIONARY WORK. PKONUNCIATION. Pronunciation does not receive the attention which its impor- tance demands. Where one mistake in grammar occurs, ten occur in pronunciation. Very few persons can read a page of plain Eng- lish without making numerous errors in pronunciation. Indeed it is a rare thing to listen to a speaker who does not make several mistakes in an address of one hour. Persons who would be deeply mortified to make a mistake in grammar or spelling, go on mispronouncing ordinary words with- out any apparent shame. Correct pronunciation is of more' im- portance than correct spelling. One offends the eye, the other the ear. Bad spelling offends the eye that sees the wrong spelling; bad pronunciation offends the ear of an entire audience. Again, pronunciation is in constant use; spelling is occasionally used. An untiring effort should, therefore, be made to break up incorrect pronunciation. CAUSES OF INCORRECT PRONUNCIATION. The causes of incorrect pronunciation are three : Carelessness, Laziness, Ignorance, and the greatest of these three is Ignorance. Carelessness. — Many persons are careless in their pronunciation. They go treading the road their fathers have trod. They say idea, grass, root, cost, etc., without one thought as to the correctness of the pronunciation. 2 (17) 18 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Laziness. — Many persons are simply too confirmed lazy to consult the dictionary. For months they have been halting between two opinions, not sure that either is correct. Every time the word is met it is shunned or half pronounced. Yet there is the diction- ary, and these lazy people have not the energy to walk to the desk. Ignorance. — Ignorance is a prolific cause of incorrect pronuncia- tion. Many persons do not know what the correct pronunciation of a word is. They can not distinguish between sounds. Once a Boston lady came in a reading circle of which I was a member. I was much amused at her peculiar pronuncia- tion. She said to the manager of the circle : " What is the differ- ence in pronunciation between far fa, and for /a?" She pronounced them both alike, leaving off an r on both. I laughed at her and thought she was silly. The next day I was leading the reading and pronounced bird, burd, and the " Boston girls" laughed at me. It was purely ignorance on my part. I did not know there was ny difference in sound between fir and fur, earn and urn. Some persons make no distinction between a in fame and a in care and fair. Others pronounce caret a and short a just alike. Should hey realize that caret a, is diphthongal the difficulty would be re- no ved. In the old English fair was spelled with two syllables, fa-Ir, and pronounced as marked, long a, and tilde I, or short u. These sounds were finally coalesced but still retain the diph- thongal sound. Long u suffers shamefully. We say tootor, for tutor; dooty, for duty; nooze, for news,— nuz; constitootion, in- stitoote, etc. Tooter is a fellow that blows a horn. If n-e-w-s spells nooze, why does not p-e-w-s spell pooze ? Broad a is greatly neglected either through nicety or ignorance. Br5d for broad ; cSll for call. We have no more naughty boys but tie them up to (k)n6tty boys; no more daughters, but we reduce them to dStters. Let us have a race of broad a's. Much of this is affectation. Some go to the other extreme, and give broad a in many words where Italian a is needed. The writer once heard a normal girl say, " I laughed and I laughed, and I nearly died a ' laughin.' " To destroy these unpleasant pronunciations let pupils be thor- oughly drilled upon the elementary sounds. DICTIONARY WORK. 19 KEY TO PRONUNCIATION. a, as in ate. &, ' at. a, ' far. a, ' call. a, ' ask. a, ' care. a, ' was. e, ' me. e, " met. e, " term. e, as in call. 9» " cite. ch, 11 child. eh, " chorus ch, " chaise. VOWELS. 3 in there, they. ice. it. sir. pique, no. not. for. do. CONSONANTS. g, as th, in get. gem. so. 1 has. ' with. o, as m son. o, ' wolf. 66, ' moon. 66, ' brook u, duty. u, 1 tub. u, 1 rude. u, 1 urge. u, " put. th, as ng, ' in withe, sing. n, ' 3. link, exist. ax. The teacher will find that the above table contains all the dia- critical marks. Drill pupils thoroughly upon these sounds. Pro- nounce the word, then give the sound. Teach carefully all the sounds not in the table. Teach by imitation the consonants. Show the class how to produce the sound of b, c, t, etc. Follow up the alphabet, and give every consonant sound. Teach the names of the diacritical marks. NAMES. " Macron. " Breve. A Caret. • Semi-diaeresis. •• Diaeresis. - Tilde. , Cidilla. -'-Suspended bar. It is not enough to drill upon the tables. The class must be made to see the difference between sounds. 1. a, a, and a. Pupils must see the difference between these sounds. Spell many words phonically, as follows : Pronounce bat slowly, b-a-t. Drop b, at. Drop t, a. Drill on the following: Mate, mat, care, fair, fame, map, dare, day, rat, pay-er, pan, fan. 20 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. 2. 6, 6. Alternate sounds as follows : Bot, bought, cost, cause, farm, f6r. 3. 6 and a. Far, f6r, or, are, form, farm. 4. 5, a. CSt, caught, nSt, naught, knStty, naughty, dStter, dauglu ter, 6n, awe. 5. u. and u (do) rue, pure, rule, use, duty, ruby, new (nu, rude. 6. oo and do, moon, look, book, roof. EXERCISES IN PHONICS. The teacher will do well at this time to refer to the chapter on elementary sounds, prepared by Prof. Warren McBroom. Spell several words by sounds. When pupils can give the elementary sounds readily, begin work on diacritical marking. Pronounce ten or fifteen common words and request the pupils to mark them correctly. Mark vowels and consonants. 1. Bat. 6. Form. 2. Can. 7. prove. 3. air. 8. net. 4. tue. 9. his. 5. game. 10. Qite. This will be sufficient for one lesson. Next lesson give atten- tion to silent letters. Mark words diacritically and cross out all silent letters. 1. Fame. 4. Roar. 2. knife. 5. often. 3. adieu. 6. coal. After a few lessons similar to the above have been given, it will be well to have a lesson in written phonic spelling. PHONIC SPELLING. Write no representative sounds. To illustrate : Should the pu- pil make rue ru it would be incorrect, for u represents oo. So write oo, roo. 1. Cat = Kat. 6. Phthisic = tizik. 2. advertise = advertiz. 7. new = nu. 3. knowledge = nol-dj. 8. cal-i-co = kal-i-ko. 4. his = hiz. 9. they = tha. 5. beau = bo.' 10. Said = sed. DICTIONARY WORK. 21 The teacher will now be prepared to show the class the import- ance of Dictionary Work. Write the word bat on the board and ask, "How many pronunciations can you give this word?" Some will guess one number, some another. Put the matter to test. Write the word several times, asking the class to pronounce as you mark. Bat, bat, bat, bat, bat, bat, bat. The class will see at once that the word has as many pronunciations as the letter a has sounds, which is seven. Ask how many pronunciations can be given to the word me. Mark the word five times. Continue as follows: "How many sounds has cat?" Some will say seven, others eight. Put it to test: Hard C— Cat. cat, cat, cat. cat, cat, cat = 7 Qat, cat, pat, pat, pat, pat, pat = 7 14 The class will then see that the word has been written 14 times, and that every word has a different pronunciation; hence the word cat can have 14 pronunciations. For amusement, to incite interest and to show the wonders of English pronunciations, introduce words of two and more syllables. Take the word fatal. Some will say that you can give it 7 sounds, some 14, still others will say 28. Try it. 1. Fatal, fatal fatal, fatal, fatal, fatal, fatal=7 with long a in first syl- 2. a in the first syllable will give 7 more. [lable, 3. a " " u " " " 7 '* A „ M (( it (C (C (C n It c a « u u (t u « n a o * u tt u u u a <7 « 7. a " " " " " " 7 " Total 49. You will see then that we have 49 words all differently pro- nounced, all accented on the first syllable ; change the accent to the last syllable and we have 49 more, which added to the first list we have 49 + 49 = 98, the number of pronunciations that can ac- tually be given to the word fatal. While curiosity is on tip-toe derive a rule by which the number of pronunciations in any word may be found. EULE. Multiply all the vowel sounds together, multiply this result by *he number of sounds any consonant may have, and this by the 22 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. number of syllables. If only one syllable, the product will not be changed by multiplying by 1. If a consonant has only one sound no multiplication is necessary. 7X7X2 accent. 1. Papal = 98. 7X2 sounds of s. 2. has = 14. 2X6X2=24. 3. Cos = 24. 2X7X2X6X2. 4. Cargo = 336 pronunciations. 7X2X2X7X3X5X2X5X5X4. 5. Massachusetts = 588,000. So if the pupil did not know something about pronunciation he might guess 587,000 times, and still be wrong. ELEMENTARY SOUNDS, WITH DIAGRAMS AND VOCAL DRILLS. BY J. WARREN M'BROOM. A knowledge of the Elementary Sounds of our language is of much importance to the student of Reading and Elocution. An Elementary Sound is one that can not be analyzed into two or more distinct sounds, just as an elementary substance is one that can not be analyzed into two or more distinct substances. Examples. — The sound known as long e is an elementary sound, just as carbon is an elementary substance. The sound known as long i is not an elementary sound, because it may be analyzed into Ital- ian a and long e, just as water is not an elementary substance, it may be analyzed into oxygen and hydrogen. The Elementary Sounds of the English language are forty in number. Other languages contain a few sounds not heard in Eng- lish, as the French u and the German ch. Elementary Sounds are divided into two classes, Vowels and Consonants. The two classes are very different from each other, both in their mode of formation and in their relation to words. The Consonants form the skeleton, the framework of words, and DICTIONARY WORK. 23 give to them strength and energy. The Vowels are the muscle and tissue of words and give to them individuality. The conso- nants brd form the common framework of bread, broad, bird, bride, bared, bard, beard and board. It is the vowels that make them different words. THE VOWELS. The elementary vowel sounds are sixteen in number. Each vowel has its own position of the vocal organs, just as each tone has its own position on the key-board of the piano. The diagram is designed to represent a section of the mouth. When the vocal current passes forward after leaving the vocal cords (where it is set into vibration) until it strikes the roof of the mouth just at the gums of the upper teeth, the sound of long e is produced. With the position of the vocal organs giving this direction to the vocal current this sound will always be produced, and no other vowel sound can be produced. But if the angle of direction be slightly changed so that the vo- cal current shall impinge a little farther back in the mouth, short is produced. The angle is changed by dropping slightly the -ower jaw, by the action of the tongue, by the rounding of the lips, antil we have in succession short e, long a, caret a (heard in air), 24 TEN WEEKS IK ELOCUTIOtf. short Italian a (as in mask), Italian a, short broad a (as in what) broad a, long o, long double o, short double o, tilde i (as in fir), caret u (as in hurt), and, lastly, right up out of the throat, the guttural, short u. And these are all the elementary vowel sounds heard in our language. Long i is not found in the diagram, but draw a line from Italian a to long e (like a tie in music), and pass connectedly from one sound to the other, and a deep, rich, long i is produced. Passing in the same way from short a to short i and a flat, thin, long i is produced. In the same way pass from long e to long double o. Note the result. Pass from broad a to short i. From Italian a to long double o. Notice also that in giving any one sound in the diagram the vo- cal organs hold one position. But no one can give long i or long u without passing from one position of the vocal organs to another. Try it and see. This is because they are not elementary sounds, jut really diphthongs. Caret a may, also, be considered a diph- Lhong. Before taking up the subject of diphthongs it is best to explain the vowel substitutes. For the same elementary sound may be represented by two or three different letters. Long e (e) has two substitutes ; i, pique ; ay, quay. Short i (i) has five substitutes ; y, hymn ; e, England ; u, busy ; o, women ; ee, been. Short e (6) has three substitutes; ay, says; ai, said; u, bury. Long a (a) has two substitutes; ei, feint; ey, they. Short a (a) has no substitute. Caret a (a) has two substitutes; e, there; ei, their. Short and long Italian a (a, a) have no substitute. Short broad a (a) has one substitute; o, not. Broad a (a) has one substitute; 6, nor. Long o (5) has two substitutes; eau, beau ; ew, sew. Long double o (oo) has two substitutes; o, do; u, true. Short double o (6o) has two substitutes; o, wolf; u, pull. Tilde i (I) has one substitute; e, term. Caret u (u) has one substitute ; o, word. Short u (ii) has one substitute; 6, love. (In studying the above let the diacritical marks be fixed in mind. It will assist the mind to note that the caret ( A ) is associated with the sound that a vowel has when r follows, as care, there, 6r, fur. The same is true of the tilde (~) fir, her.) DICTIONARY WORK. 25 DIPHTHONGS. The word diphthong is from two Greek words that, united, mean a double sound. Two elementary sounds uttered in a single im- pulse of the voice constitute a diphthong. In English words five diphthongs may be recognized : a -f- e = i, as in pine, e -f- oo = u, as in tube. I -(- oo = ew, as in new. a + oo = Su or ow, as in house, cow. a -f- i = 6i or 6y , as in boil, boy. Note. — It may be objected that long e and long double o do not give us long u. They do not exactly. This is because long e is not an exact equivalent for the consonant y, but it is very nearly. So also long double o is almost identical with the consonant w. Phonetically, e-6-n is very nearly yon, and oo-a-n is very nearly wan. But e-e is not ye, and oo-oo is not woo. It would seem that the consonants y and w are the connecting links between the vowels and the consonants. THE CONSONANTS. If we consider the organs employed in their utterance, the con- sonants maybe arranged naturally into four classes; the Labials, or lip sounds, the Lingua -dentals, or tongue-tooth sounds, the Lingua-palatals, or tongue-palate sounds, and the Gutturals, or throat sounds. Again, some consonants are mere whisperings, as the sound of p. Some are obstructed tones, or undertones, as the sound of d. From this fact as a basis of classification we have all consonants divided into Aspirates, or whispered sounds, and Sub-vocals, or undertones. Let it be noticed that most Aspirates have a corres- ponding Sub-vocal, as the Aspirate p, and the Sub-vocal b, the Aspirate f, and the Sub-vocal v. Consonants are classified from still another point of view. Some consonants may be prolonged, as the sounds of f and s; but others can not be prolonged, as t and k. They are touch and go, like the explosion of gunpowder. Hence, consonants are divided into Ex- plosives and Continuants. By some authors the Explosives are called Mutes, and the Continuants, Semi-vowels. The following table shows clearly the three-fold classification of 26 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. consonants, and should be placed on the board for vocal drill on the consonant sounds. Let the leader first follow the horizontal lines till all the sounds can be given accurately and readily, then let him follow the vertical lines. Every pupil should become able to reproduce this table from memory. TABLE OF CONSONANTS. Labi- als. Lingua- dentals. Lingua- palatals. Palatals or Gutturals. Explosives or (8)« Mutes. i " Aspirates. P t ch k L Sub-vocals. b d J g Aspirates. f th, s sh h Continuants or (16)- Semi-vowels. Sub-vocals. V th, z zh Sub-vocals. m n 1 r ng Sub-vocals. w y Sometimes two letters are used to represent a single elementary sound, as ch, th, zh, etc. A list of consonant substitutes is important also; ch has one substitute ; ti, question ; k has three substitutes ; c, can ; ch, chorus, and q, quick; j has two substitutes ; g, gem; di, soldier; f has two substitutes ; gh, tough ; ph, Philip. S has two substitutes ; c, city ; z, quartz. Sh has six substitutes ; ce, ocean ; ci, gracious ; si, losion ; ti, potion ; ch, chaise ; s, sugar. V has two substitutes; f, of; ph, Stephen. Z has three substitutes ; c, sacrifice ; s, hers ; x, Xerxes. . Zh is a combination of letters never met with; but the sound of zh is represented by si in fusion; by zi in brazier; by z in azure, and by s in rasure. Ng has one substitute ; n before most palatals, as in ink, uncle, conquer. W has one substitute ; u in quick ; it is understood before o in one. Y has one substitute; i in onion. For valuable drill in vocal culture and phonic spelling, place the following diagram on the board. Let the leader of the exer- DICTIONARY WORK. 27 cise point to any eonsonant on the circumference, then to the vowel at the center, then to any other consonant, the class giving in concert the sounds to which the leader points, and then pronounc- ing the word spelled. Spell each word twice. A great number o £ words may be formed thus, and the number may be multiplied by changing the vowel at the center. It is not necessary that all the consonants be used in any one diagram. It is best that some be omitted. So also in placing the vowel diagram on the board for vocal drill, it is best to omit those sounds that are very similar to other sounds, such as caret a, short Italian a, short broad a, and tilde i. These finer distinctions con- fuse beginners. PRINCIPLES OF PRONUNCIATION. Pronunciation consists of two things : Articulation and accent. Articulation is the correct utterance of the elementary sounds. 28 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. (1). a, 6, 6 and u are always followed by r. Examples. — Care, fare, parent, there, their, for, or, form, urn. (2). u (do) is never heard unless it is preceded by the sound of r, sh, or zh. Sure is not an exception to this rule, for the sound sh is heard. Susan seems to be an exception. (3). u is a diphthong. When it begins a syllable it is equivalent to y + oo. When preceded by a consonant it is equivalent to e + 6o. There are a few words in which the u. is difficult to utter, and will likely become u (oo). Examples. — Blue, lute, flute. Blue is difficult, bloo is not. Pronounce rue, rule, fruit, dupe, dude, duty, constitution, tutor, student. (4). u has no equivalent. It differs from e and I. U is a gut- tural sound. Pronounce earn, urn, fir, fur, urge, verge. (5.) A constituting or ending an unaccented syllable has a brief sound of a. Exception, A is long when followed by a vowel or diphthong, as chaotic. Pronounce America, alas, Anna, Indiana, aorta. (6.) E and O constituting or ending a syllable is long. In the accented syllable the quantity is longer than in the unaccented. Ex- amples. — Memorial, event, the-sis, notorious, society. (7.) E is silent before n. Given, token. (8.) C is soft before e, i and y and hard in other cases. Pro- nounce caret, cite, cider, celebrate, cot, cynic. (9.) G is generally soft before e, i and y and hard in other cases. (10.) X followed by an accented vowel or h has the sound of gz. When it begins a word it has the sound of z. In other posi- tions it has the sound of ks. (11.) Q standing alone 'has no sound. (12.) Ai when accented has the sound of a ; when not accented it has the sound of short L Examples. — Aid, remain, fountain (in), captain, mountain. ACCENT, Accent is a stress of voice upon a syllable of a word. Accent is of two kinds, primary and secondary. The primary accent is the stronger. Primary accent is marked with a heavy stroke, the secondary with a lighter stroke. Examples. — Legislature, Av'a- lanche'. Let pupils accent clearly the following words: Inquiry, ac- cented, coquetry, artificer, complex, idea, execrable, pyramidal. DICTION AKY WOKK. 29 My first lessons in elocution were received from Prof. J. I. Hop- kins. He gave special attention to accent, and the benefits of those lessons are highly valued. To break up difficult accents he would cause the class to accent forcibly all the syllables of a word, then return to the proper accent and give the pronunciation several times. I have found this simple exercise sufficient to correct any incorrect accent. Illustration. — Personification, personification, personification, personification, personification, personification''. Now pronounce the word several times with the proper accent per- sonifica / tion. Take execrable and begin as follows: Execrable 7 , execrable, execrable, execrable. In same manner pronounce peculiarity, congratulation; emphatically, octogenarian. HINTS TO TEACHERS. It is one thing to say that there are forty elementary sounds, and quite another thing to show by actual work that there are forty. Ask the class what is meant by saying forty elementary sounds. The probability is that the class will not have any definite mean- ing. Place a table of sounds on the board. Let this table con- tain all the vowels and consonants and number of sounds that each has. Then begin to erase or cross out all equivalents. ILLUSTRATION. CONSONANTS. 1. bccdfgghj klmnpqrss soft tvwxxyz = 25. VOWELS. aaaaaaaeSeeeiilioCSoo 6 oo 06 u ti. u (oo) u u = 29. Now ask the class the number of sounds, and you will likely get the answer, 54. Rewrite and cut out all equivalents. b (c hard = k, 9 = s) d f g (g soft = j) j k 1 m n p (q has no sound) r s (g = z) t u v w (x = ks, 5 = gz) y z = 18. a a a a a a (short broad a = 6) e 6 e (e — a, e = a) (1 = a -j- X) l (I = g, i = e) 6 6 (6 =*= a) (o = 00) (6 same Zu TEN" WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. as H) (o as in wolf = 66) 60 06 (u = y + 00) u (u as in rue = 60) u (u as in put = 66) = 16 vowel sounds. This, now, gives 18 consonants and 16 vowels, or 34 in all. Let children find out other sounds if possible. DOUBLE CONSONANTS. ch, as in child, ng, th, th, sh and zh = 6. Add this to 34 and we have 40, the number of elementary sounds in the English language. Some interest may be created by asking pupils to try to make other sounds. 2. Drill often on the exercises in articulation. 3. Have pronouncing matches. Pass over to the chapter on Words often Mispronounced, or to Test Words in Pronunciation. Request two pupils to arise and pronounce alternately. When one makes a mistake let the other try it. If he be successful an- other comes forward to contest. One person may pronounce down several contestants. EXEECISES IN ARTICULATION. Sex, sects. Sense, cents. Tense, tents. False, faults. Taps, sips. Ba be bi Da de di b5 dS folds, molds. obed, robed. fast, vast. whit, wit. twelve, twelfths, bu boo boi. du doo doi. rob'dst, prob'dst. barbst, warmst. curvedst, loveth. settleth, remaineth. ba-pa fa-va be-pe fe-ve bi-pi fi-vi bo-po f6-v6 bu-pu fu-vu boo-poo foo-voo boi-poi. foi-voi. Ceaseth, approacheth, rejoiceth, ceaseth, Approacheth, rejoiceth, ceaseth, approacheth, Rejoiceth, ceaseth, approacheth, rejoiceth. 1. Six brave maids sat on six broad beds braiding broad braids. 2. The rain ceaseth. 3. I saw a saw that could outsaw any saw that I ever saw saw. 4. Up the high hill he heaved a huge round stone. DICTION AEY WOEK. 31 5. The listlessness and laziness of the government. 6. He thrusts his fists against the posts. And still insists he sees the ghosts. 7. Socks and shoes shock Susan. 8. I said sex, not sects. 9. Eight great gray geese gazing gayly into Greece. 10. Bring me some ice every hour. 11. Five wise wives weave withered withes. 12. She sells sea-shells ; shall she sell sea-shells? 13. A big black bug bit a big black bear. 14. Round the rude ring the ragged rascals ran. 15. Execrable Xantippe exhibited extraordinary and excessive irritability, 16. Thrice six thick thistle sticks thrust straight through three throbbing thrushes. 17. Prithee, blithe youth, do not mouth your words when you wreathe your face with smiles. 18. He rules with regal reign. 19. He sawed six long, slim, sleek, slender saplings- 20. Whelply Whewell White was a whimsical, whining, whis- pering, whittling, whistler. 21. Some shun sun-shine. Do you shun sun-shine ? 22. I said, " a knap -sack strap," not a " knap-sack's strap." 23. Henry Hingham has hung his harp on the hook where he hitherto hung his hope. 24. Gibeon Gordon Grelglow, the great Greek grammarian, graduated at Grilgrove College. 25. Did you say you saw the spirit sigh, or the spirit's eye, or the spirit's sigh ? I said I saw the spirit's eye, not the spirit sigh, nor the spirit's sigh. 26. Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle sifter, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through the thick of his thumb; now, if Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle sifter, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through the thick of his thumb, see that thou, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust not three thousand thistles through the thick of thy thumb. Success to the successful thistle sifter. 27. Seeing Sam she stopped starching and saluted Sam smilingly. Sam stammered shockingly : " Sp-sp-splendid summer season, 32 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Sophia." " Somewhat sultry," suggested Sophia. " Sar-sartin, Sophia," said Sam. (Silence seventeen seconds.) " Selling sad- dles still, Sam?" " Sar-sar-sartin," said Sam, starting suddenly. " Season's somewhat soporific," said Sam, stealthily staunching streaming sweat, shaking sensibly. " Sartin," said Sophia, smil- ing significantly. " Sip some sweet sherbet, Sam ? " (Silence sixty seconds.) " Sire shot sixty shel-drakes, Saturday," said Sophia. " Sixty ? sho I " said Sam. (Silence seventy-seven seconds.) " 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 sunflow- ers seem saying, 'Samuel Short and Sophia Sophronia Spriggs, stroll serenely and seek some sequestered spot, some sylvan shade. Some sparkling spring shall sing soul-soothing strains ; sweet song- sters 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 sin- cere. Sam's seeking some sweet spouse, Sophia. Speak, Sophia, speak ! Such suspense speeds sorrow." " Seek sire, Sam, seek sire." So Sam sought sire Spriggs. Sire Spriggs said, " Sartin." Seven short Sabbaths later saw Sophia Sophronia Spriggs the smiling spouse of Simon Short's son Samuel. WORDS OFTEN MISPRONOUNCED. 1. Accepted, acclimate, accost, advertise, alibi, acorn, almoner, aeronaut, alms, alternate, analogous, Arab, aroma, aft, arrow, ap- palachian, allopathy, adult, area. 2. Bastile, behemoth, beneficent, Belial, biography, bomb, bra- vado, Burgundy, bot, bought, bronchitis, bouquet. 3. Calf, calliope, calm, Caucasian, chastisement, communist, consummate, concise, critique, contumely, coquetry, crochet, cost, courtesy, camelopard. 4. Dahlia, Danish, deficit, defalcate, dew, due, diphthong, dis- arm, dolorous, debut. 5. Eclat, epizootic, European, eyry, exponent. 6. Finance, frankincense, franchise. 7. Geyser, gallows. 8. Haughty, herculean, hymeneal, half, horizon. 9. Idea, illustrate, inquiry, institute, isothermal, implacable, industry. . DICTIONARY WORK. 33 10. Jocose. 11. Lamentable, laths, leisure, lien. 12. Magazine, maniacal, mirage, misanthropy, months, mouths, mercantile. 13. National, nomenclature. 14. Or, on, orgies, orison, often, ogle, oaths, opponent, ought. 15. Pageant, Palestine, palm, panorama, parquet pedagogy, Persian, Philistine, piquant, plateau. 16. Quadrupedal, quaggy, quagmire. 17. Radish, raillery, reparable, rinse, roof, root, routine. 18. Sacrifice, salient, seine, sew, shire, shrub, sleek, slough (a scab), slough (mud hole), snout, soft, sough, strata, subtle, subtile. 19. Uranus, usurp. 20. Vagary. 21. Were, wife's, wreaths. 22. Xenophon. 23. Yea, your. 24. Zoology. FIFTY-FOUR TEST WORDS. 1. Are 2. area 3. accented 4. all 5. aye 6. for 7. far 8. lost 9. ally 10. spirit 11. baths 12. truths 13. dupe 14. inquiry 15. horizon 16. finance 17. zoology 18. isothermal 1. Aunt 2. on 3. tilde 4. precise 5. daughter 6. Danish 7. bomb 8. bouquet 9. courtesy 10. geyser 11. exponent 12. opponent 13. Persia 14. bronchitis 15. museum 16. national 17. impious 18. vehemence 1. Fir 2. fur 3. earn 4. urn 5- caught 6. cot 7. grass 8. coquetry 9. Appalachian 10. allopathy 11. indisputable. 12. homoeopathy 13. acclimate 14. communist 15. epizootic 16. pyramidal 17. illustrate 18. contumely. 3 PART III. HOW TO TEACH READING, BY S. E. THOMAS, President of Kentucky University, Paducah, Ky. The key to all learning is study. That method which causes the pupil to study what he reads is surely the true one. The mere calliug of words advances the stu- dent but little. Class reading, where each pupil reads a different verse, has many serious defects and but few advantages. Many times there is no complete thought in a single verse. When the pupil reads such a verse he is compelled to do it in a machine-like way; he has no mental picture, and hence there is nothing to in- spire him to make an effort. He soon has the idea that calling words is reading, and he further believes that the one who can call all the words in a verse the quick- est is the best reader. This kind of reading makes parrots and not thinkers. The teacher, by questioning his pupils, may bring out the thought of the selection, but that thought is naked and cold. There is but little in this plan to stimulate the pupil to secure the thought for himself, but merely (34) HOW TO TEACH READING. 35 for recitation. The grand object of a teacher's work is to make the pupil think for himself. There must be something about teaching reading that will make the pupil give careful attention to every word and sentence in his selection. In the study of words he must be constantly searching the dictionary for pronunciation and meaning. It is not, or should not be expected that the teacher is to pronounce every word on which the pupil may stumble. If he does, he takes self-reliance away from his pupils, and they resort to him for help under all circumstances. In teaching primary reading, the teacher is com- pelled to assist his pupils in pronouncing some words, but such help should be under the utmost discretion. Articulation is miserably neglected in many schools. There is no possible chance for a pupil to pronounce correctly when he has not yet learned the sounds of the letters and how to produce them. Too much at- tention can not be given to this part of the work. Kot only should the sounds be given separately but com- bined. The pupil may find no trouble in making the sounds of s and h separately and still be unable to pro- nounce correctly the words shrink, shriek and shrill. It is not really necessary that the student be supplied with a book containing articulating exercises. A teacher can have better interest in his classes, and his pupils will have more confidence in him, if he makes his own exercises and puts them on the black-board. Great attention should be given to final consonant words. Take such words as bat, cat, hat, content, and use particular care in giving the final t sound. In such words as back, rack, crack, and hack, the k sound should be distinctly uttered. The word insists is a good word on which to practice. Be sure and get the t sound where it belongs. Below are a few sentences for class or private drill. 36 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. EXERCISES. He rejoiceth when it raineth, and he laugheth when it ceaseth. Some shun sunshine. She sells seashells. Shall she sell seashells? She shall sell six slick seashells. Swift the streamlet's soft struggles sent strong strings, stopt stuffs of stammering stones. He was amiable, respectable, formidable, unbearable, intolerable, unmanageable, terrible. A hint has been previously given in this article about dictionary work. A few more thoughts here would, no doubt, be useful. Many teachers are not very careful about pronunciation, and guess many times when assisting their pupils in pronouncing words. If we are in doubt about a word, we should not be sat- isfied until the doubt is removed. The only w r ay to learn how to pronounce correctly is to make a constant use of the dictionary and do not allow yourself to be put off. Either make a memorandum of the word or seek authority at once. Teach the pupils that learn- ing to pronounce words is a part of the reading les- son, and when they study the reading lesson'they must acquaint themselves with all the words in the lesson, must learn their pronunciation, their meaning and their use. Bad pronunciation is a crime/ It is a sure test of ignorance. We give below a list of words which are generally mispronounced unless authority be consulted. If a student wants to find out the necessity of referring to a dictionary, let him use his own judgment in pro- nouncing these words, and then let him look up their pronunciation and find out how many he has missed. While the list is only a few out of the many which are often mispronounced, yet several of these have sent the writer to the dictionary as many as four times for each HOW TO TEACH READING. 37 pronunciation. The words are all in general use, and are found in school books, histories and newspapers. EXERCISE. Encore Comparable lava lyceum debris chagrin scallop nuptials museum chalice corps banquet corpse crochet acoustics suite debut pronunciation bronchitis bologna facade pharmaceutics niche pedagogy debauch pedagogics gape . nonchalance patron syrup dessert falcon. The manner of conducting a reading class so as to bring out the principles already mentioned, is probably of the most importance. The larger a readiug class the more interest there will be in it. All pupils, from the second reader up to the highest grade, can be put into one class. It is not necessary that each member of the class reads every day ; hence, if the class contains thirty pupils, arrange it into three sections of ten each. Have one section to read one day, another the next, and so on. Devote one hour to this class. Have each pupil to read a different selection. Let him choose his se- lection if he will. He has three days to study and practice on his selection. In that time he can look after the pronunciation and meaning of all doubtful words. He can study the thought and become famil- iar with it and the words which express it. When he 38 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. comes to read it to the class he does not merely have to confine himself to the calling of words, but he can read in a clear, forcible and impressive manner. He is so familiar with his selection, and he feels so fully the thought which he is expressing, that he looks away from his book and casts his eyes into his " little audience/' and as he gets deeper into the thought of his selection, he calls forth suitable expressions of his face and eyps and the next moment his hand paints a picture or adds em- phasis to a word, and in this creditable manner he fin- ishes his selection, and this progress has been made from the right kind of study and practice before coming to class. His articulation was clear, his pronunciation was good, and his hearers were entertained, because they understood the thought of his selection, and he had given it to them in a delivery that was pleasing and im- pressive. The whole section reads in like manner, all having their selections well studied and prepared. Those who belong to the other sections can be taking notes and criticisms on the reading. All should keep a watch for mispronounced words, wrong slides of the voice, lack of emphasis and energy, and ungraceful po- sition. Have these criticisms given when the section is done reading. Use the two sections not reading as an audience for the other section. This audience will stimulate the reader to make a more careful prepara- tion. Two months of this kind of reading is worth five years of the old way, where pupils get up and read by verses and the teacher pronounces all the u hard words." There is never any interest in such classes, and their study of the lesson is a miserable farce. For five years the writer has been using the "sec- tion plan," of which he is the originator, and he has never failed in making good readers of all his pupils. The primary object of reading is to secure thought, and if the reader does not understand what he reads there must be something wrong in his training. Grasp- ing thought rapidly is the result of practice. If pu- HOW TO TEACH READING. 39 pils are taught that they mast understand what they read before they can read it intelligently to any one else, and that they must study to get the thought when they are preparing their selection, then they are prac- ticing just what they will want to use all through life. That method which makes the pupils study for the thought of the author, and then practice how to ex- press that thought, is surely the true method of teach- ing reading. STEPS IN READING. A child's first lesson in language is learning to talk ; the first lesson in school is learning to read. It is the source of all knowledge. Many methods have been given for teaching reading, some of which are good, while others are unnatural. The first lessons in read- ing are the same as those in language. The old ABC method, by which all the older teach- ers were taught to read, is now obsolete. It is no longer used by the progressive teacher. It is so abnor- mal that we wonder at what it has accomplished. It is well for the children of to-day that they are taught by more natural methods. The best method now in use is the word or object method. It is superior to all others in that it is the method of nature. Children in the country have a correct idea of a great many objects. They receive the idea as a whole, and have not yet analyzed them into their component parts. A child can have no idea of what it has not seen. The race acquired the use of lan- guage by objects. There were no new words around until there was an idea for them to represent. Nature begins with objects, then the" idea, then the sign, and the ability to make the sign. This is the manner in which language has been developed, and from this we may learn the method of teaching the use of it to a child. In teaching the word method, it is first necessary to 40 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. have an object. It matters not what word is first used, but it should be an object with which the children are familiar. Words that do not represent an object should not be used first. Talk about the object. Encourage conversation. A pupil will not learn to read before it can talk. When they have a complete idea of the ob- ject, present the picture of the object. It is well to draw this on the board. After they have comprehended this, write the word on the board. Tell them the word represents the object the same as the picture. Have the pupils write the word on the slate. It is not nec- essary to have them print the word. It is best to teach the script letters, as they will use them in after life. The child knows nothing about the letters. The word is the word ! When it is once learned it is not likely to forget it. Teach several words in this man- ner, and then form sentences. Words that are not the signs of objects may be illustrated by examples. If you want to teach the word "old," show a new object. Use the real object wherever you can. When the sentences are formed, have the pupils read as they talk. Great care should be taken in this. A bad habit formed in the primary grades is hard to be broken. Insist upon correct pronunciation. It is well to drill pupils upon the elementary sounds, after they have learned several words. Do not stick too closely to any one method, but try and use the best of all. Adapt the method to suit yourself and the school. It is not so much the method that is used in the primary grades as how it is used. The child is led in the path of knowledge, and all the difficulties antici- pated. If the child is interested in the work, it will learn to read, whatever method is used. In teaching primary pupils the teacher is superior to the methods. HOW TO TEACH READING. 41 ADVANCED READING-. There is nothing so poorly taught in our country schools as reading. So much has this study been neg- lected that it is almost impossible to find a good reader anywhere. It is impossible for a teacher who can not read himself^ to teach others to read. A child talks natural enough, but when it begins to read it is no longer itself. That is the best reading which is near- est like common conversation. Talk to the pupils about what they are going to read. No one can read what they do not thoroughly understand. Ask questions until they know what ideas they should express, and then have them read as they talk. No two persons will read the same piece alike. That is good reading which conveys the idea clearly to the mind of another. Do not depend too much upon imitation to make a good reader. The teacher expresses his idea and the pupils express theirs. No one can read a selection with which he is not familiar. Every lesson should be thoroughly studied before being read. Teachers should prepare the read- ing lesson the same as arithmetic. There will never be good reading done until there is more interest aroused, and there will not be increased interest until there is more study on the lesson. It is not expected that you shall make elocutionists out of your pupils, but intelligent readers. Most of the reading that is done in our schools is purely me- chanical, the pupils having no idea of what they are reading. It is necessary that pupils should be able to call words at first sight, but that is not the chief use of reading. Words are nothing only as they convey thoughts. Insist upon correct pronunciation, but do not lose sight of the thought. That pupils may give close attention to the reading lessons, it is well to have them copy a paragraph of each lesson on their slates in the intermediate grades. 42 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Teach the meaning of words in the connection in which they are used. See that they comprehend the meaning of all words in the lesson, and also know how to spell them. This is especially important in the lower grades. Have them use the dictionary in con- nection with the reading, but be careful that they se- lect the correct definition. Give frequent exercises in the pronunciation of dif- ficult words. Spare no pains to secure correct articula- tion. It is well to give frequent exercises in breathing and articulation. Have the pupil stand erect when reading. No one can read well in an unnatural posi- tion. The greater part of the reading in the world is done silently and mentally. The object of the teaching in the higher grades is to teach the pupils to think as they read and gather in the thoughts from the printed page. To do this, it is well to give the pupil a selection to read silently, and then have him tell what he has read. Encourage a spirit of reading among your pupils. There is no way to learn how except to read. It is no use in having children read the same thing over and over after they have once learned it. Give them some- thing new to read. In the lower grades they should read at least two series of readers instead of one. In the higher grades let them read some story in the class or selections from the newspapers occasionally. The teacher should make the selections. Irving's "Sketch- book" would be good for the higher grades. They would not only learn to read, but would become famil- iar with some of the finest prose writings in the lan- guage. Do not permit a pupil to be interrupted by criticisms while he is reading. Encourage pupils to criticise each other, but do not allow criticisms to run into needless fault-finding. Be careful how you criticise. All errors should be corrected, but be more anxious to commend than to find fault. HOW TO TEACH BEADING. 43 Concert reading should be used occasionally as a drill. It will encourage the backward and restrain the for- ward. Concert reading will never take the place of individual instruction, however. In poetry it is well, sometimes, to have each pupil read only one line. It arouses attentiou. Do not call upon pupils to read in regular order. Let them read occasionally to a pause and then call on some one else to read. The class should be able to understand every word spoken by the pupil reading without looking on their books. There is no excuse for pupils not speaking so they can be heard. Take a short story of some kind and cut it into sec- tions, and distribute the parts to the members of the class. Call on the one who has the first part to read. As the story is new to them, it will require close atten- tion to tell which one will read next. In advanced reading, the same as primary reading, more depends upon the teacher than the method. It is your duty to interest the pupils in the reading les- son. Until the pupils are interested in their lessons, they will never become good readers. EXAMPLES FOR PEACTICE. SUBDUED, VERY SLOW, VERY LOW. 1. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame, fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, But we left him alone in his glory. GIVE ALMS. 2. Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door; Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span ; Oh ! give relief, and heaven will bless your store. SPRING. 3. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day ; The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. — Gray, 44 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. 4. I come ! I come ! you have called me long, I come o'er the mountains with light and song, You may trace my steps o'er the wakening earth, By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves opening as I pass. — Hemans. DREAM OF DARKNESS. 5. 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 Blinding and blackening in the moonless air ; Morn came and went and brought no day. The world was void. 6. Io ! they come, they come. 7. His extortion is not like the rapacity of the princely eagle that snatches away its living, struggling prey ; he is a vulture that feeds upon the prostrate, the dying, and the dead. — Burke. 8. Forward the light brigade, Charge for the guns. 9. I tell you, though you, though the whole world, though an angel from heaven, were to declare the truth of it, I would not believe it. 10. Whence, and what art thou, execrable shape ? 11. Ah! mercy on my soul! What is that? My old friend's ghost ? No nearer, I pray ! 12. Leave me ! Thy footstep with its lightest sound, The very shadow of thy waving hair, Wakes in my soul a feeling too profound. 13. Soldiers, you are now within a few steps of the enemy's outposts ! Our scouts report them slumbering around their watch fires, utterly unprepared. Swift and noiseless we are upon them, we capture them without resistance. 14. O I have passed a miserable night ! So full of fearful dreams and ugly sights. HOW TO TEACH READING. 45 15. The father came on deck, he gasped, " Oh, God ! thy will be done ! " Then suddenly a rifle grasped, And aimed it at his son ; "Jump far oat boy, into the wave; Jump or I fire," he said ; " This chance alone your life can save, Jump, jump ! " the boy obeyed. 16. Princes, potentates, warriors ! Awake, arise, or be forever fallen ! 17. If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a single foreign troop remained in my country I would never lay down my arms, never, never, NEVER. 18. Thou too, sail on, O Ship of State ! Sail on, O Union, strong and great ! Humanity, with all its fears, Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Are all with thee, are all with thee. 19. We watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. 20. Haste me to know it, so that With wings as swift as meditation, I may sweep to my revenge. 21. "Good morning, Lizzie, I am glad to see you. When did you arrive ? " " I came on last train." "Are you well?" " Quite well ; I thank you." 22. Hamlet. Hold you the watch to-night? All. We do, my lord. Ham. Armed, say you ? All. From head to foot. Ham. Then saw you not his face ? Hor. O ! yes, my lord, he wore his beaver up. Shakespeare. 46 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. 23. I know the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is — that the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn, and that the great cause of the night is the lack of the sun. Shakespeare. 24 Children prattle, ladies smile, men talk, goats sVamj, dogs yelp, and geese hiss. Accept your classifi- ation. 25. They are gone, thev are gone, the glimmering sparks hath fled! The wife and child are numbered with the dead. 26. And now farewell ! 'Tis hard to give thee up, With death so like a gentle slumber on thee ! And thy dark sin ! Oh ! I could drink the cup, If from this woe its bitterness had won thee. May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home. My lost boy, Absalom ! Willis. 27. Then this ebony bird, beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly grim, and ancient raven, wanderingfrom the nightly shore. Tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's Plutonian shore ! " Quoth the raven, " Nevermore." Poe. 28. Have ye brave sons? Look in the next fierce brawl To see them die. Have ye fair daughters? Look To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, Dishonored ; and if ye dare call for justice, Be answered by the lash. Yet this — is Rome, That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne Of beauty, ruled the world/ and we are Romans. Why, in elder day, to be a Roman, Was greater than a king! And once again — Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread Of either Brutus ! Once again, I swear, The eternal city shall be free. 29. O thou that rollest above, round as the shield jf my fathers ? whence are thy beams, O sun ! thy ever- lasting light? Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty; HOW TO TEACH READING. 47 the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave. — Ossian. 30. The quality of mercy is not strained ; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath ; it is twice blessed : It blesses him that gives and him that takes. — Shakespeare. 31. Oh, young Lochinvar has come Out of the west ; Through all the wide Borders his steed was the best. 32. 'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now Is brooding, like a gentle spirit o'er The still and pulseless world. — Prentice. 33. How like a fawning publican he looks, I hate him, for he is a Christian. 34. Let the woman demand the same exactness of manners from the man that he demands of her. If woman offends against chastity, she goes down forever; but man offends against chastity, and yet with unblush- ing countenance, stalks over the land with uplifted head. Here society is at fault. That act that will banish woman from society, in the name of high heaven, let it banish man from society. C. 35. Tell me I hate the bowl, Hate is a feeble word. I loathe, abhor, my very soul With strong disgust is stirred Whene'er I see, or hear, or tell Of the dark beverage of hell. 36. Go from my sight, I hate And despise you. 37. Hurrah! the life-boat clashes on, Though darkly the reef may frown; The rock is there, the ship is' gone — Full twenty fathoms down. But cheered by hope, the seaman cope With the billows single-handed, They are all in the life boat. Hurrah! they're afloat And now they are safely landed By the live-boat ! Cheer the life-boat I 48 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. 38. Oh, tell me, where did Katy live? And what did Katy do? And was she very fair and young, And yet so wicked, too ! Did Katy love a naughty man Or kiss more cheeks than one ? I warrant Katy did no more Than many a Kate has done. 39. "Ring out the old, ring in the new, King happy hells, across the snow ; The year is going, let him go, Ring out the false, ring in the true." 40. My soul to-day Is far away, Sailing the Vesuvian Bay ; My winged boat A bird afloat Swims round the purple peaks remote, 41. If thou said'st I am not peer To any Lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied. EXAMPLES FOE GESTICULATIONS. 1. "I give thee in thy teeth the lie ! " 2. " Forward! Forward, let us range ! " 3. "Eternal King! author of all being." 4. "Give your children food, O, Father! " 5. "Ye crags and peaks, Fm with you once again." 6. "Thou shalt lie down with patriarchs of the in- fant world. 7. " We have no concessions to make, my lord." 8. "I prohibit the signing of such a paper." 9. "The Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast." PART IV. THE ART OF DELIVERY. Conductor of the Elocutionary Department of the College of Music, Music Hall, Cincinnati, Ohio, Graduate of the National School of Elocution and Oratory. EEMAEKS. During the past six years the author having had, perhaps, not fewer than ten thousand voices under his direction, it may be claimed, we think, with modesty, that he has, by experience, learned somewhat of the needs and desires of students throughout the country. It will be the purpose of this division of the work to respond, practically, to those demands. One of the first questions a pupil asks when a work on elocution is commended, is, "does it contain select- ions?" They wish something more than theory and short extracts illustrative of the points as they appear. And yet, in the great majority of instances, they object to buying a separate book of selections. In all our subdivisions that will admit, after giv- ing brief extracts bearing upon the point in question, 4 (49) 50 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. selections in fall, emphasizing the same, are added. Many of these selections the author has publicly tested, thereby proving their popularity. Many selections, fresh and winsome in humor, pathos, impersonation, dialect, character-sketching and descrip- tion, the book will be found to contain. Other select- ions of less modern origin which, by their ever-increas- ing hold upon the public favor, attest their genuine merit, are also inserted. Especial endeavor has been made by the author to make it a lucid self-instructor for those w T ho have no teacher, or who have had but a few lessons in elocu- tion. ♦ INTRODUCTION. Elocution is the art of the vocal and visible express- ion of thought. Upon the voice depends vocal ex- pression. Upon the face, the action and the attitude, depends visible expression. Elocution is thus derived : "E," meaning out, "loqui," to speak, and " ion," the act of. Etymologically, then, elocution is the art, or the act, or the manner of speak- ing out. Thought is expressed or carried out along two great avenues, viz., speech and gesture. To the ear the former appeals, to the eye the latter. Elocution, in its broadest sense, means more than manner. It is quite important that one have something to say as well as to be able to say something well. The teacher of elocution, while justly laying great stress upon vocal and physical culture, should also in- sist on good, choice English in right rhetorical order, according to the laws of grammar. Webster, in sub- stance, thus defines elocution : 1. Expression of thought by speech and gesture. 2. Art of delivery. 3. Dic- tion in written and spoken discourse. Wooster, in other words, says the same. It is to the art of delivery I shall largely devote this chapter. THE AET OF DELIVERY. 51 Manner of delivery. < n !!!?,?' Elocution. 1 Gesture. Matter to be delivered. \ %*?• instruction. L t Khet. arrangement. q , j Expression, vocal and visible. ^' \ Expression, rhetorical. Eloquence. ■{ , rpi i\ t ' 1 Arrangement. Composition. j q+ i Khetoric. Art of delivery. | ^oice. ^ According to standard authorities the terras Elocu- tion, Oratory, Eloquence and Rhetoric are in the main synonymous. Formerly, the most prominent division of rhetoric was what is now known as elocution. However, it has so far drifted from that position as now to be confined almost wholly to written discourse. In a restricted sense, elocution refers to the delivery of the words of another. Oratory deals more particu- larly with the delivery of one's own thoughts. The training in the two is identical. Eloquence means more than either. Elocution and oratory are external. They are arts. Eloquence is both external and inter- nal. It is soul, quickened and projected by a magnetic delivery. Rhetoric is the silent theory underlying all the others. Elocution is the art of vocal and physical culture. Oratory is the application of elocution in delivering one's own words. Eloquence combines and immortalizes them all. PLAN OF STUDIES. I. Kespiration.{£* 52 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. INSPIRATORY MOVEMENTS. 1. Lateral expansion of chest. 2. Vertical expansion of chest. 3. Side expansion. 4. Back expansion. 5. Abdominal expansion. 6. Waist expansion. 7. Waist and chest expansion combined. 8. Inhalation prolonged to the utmost. 9. Full inhalation in quickest possible time. EXPIRATORY MOVEMENTS. 1. Prolonged to the utmost effusively. 2. Prolonged to the utmost expulsively. 3. Quickly given out explosively. {Vocal Gymnastics. Breath Gymnastics. Body Movements. III. Articulation— 1. Elemental Sounds. 2. Special treatment of Consonants. 3. Difficult combinations. 4. Phonetic Drill. 5. Fundamentals, applicable alike to all languages. TV O th -f -^aws which govern pronunciation r oepy. -^ p rac ^ ce in pronunciation. Force. Purity. Flexibility. Volume. Compass. Modulation. Expulsive control. Explosive control. Prolonged tones. Tremulous tones. V. Vocal Drill. f Evenness of tone. Tones prolonged to I Smoothness of^ tone, the utmost. 1 Sameness of pitch. L Equality of vibrations THE ART OF DELIVERY. 53 VI. Quality. VII. Gesture. 1. Pure in conversation. 2. Pure in public address. 3. Pectoral. 4. Orotund. 5. Guttural. 6. Falsetto. 7. Nasal. j. 8. Aspirated. {Attitude. Action. Facial Expression. VIII. Delivery or Expression. ("High. Pitch or Key. ^ Middle. (Low. ' Beading. Eecitation. Declamation. Impersonation. Dialects. Character sketching* Dramatic, Heroic, Humorous and L Pathetic renditions,, {Subdued. Moderate. Intense. f Slight. Volume. \ Moderate. (.Full. rp. f Rate. Time ' \ Quantity. {Deliberate. Moderate. Rapid. {Prolonged. Average. Brief. {Upward. Downward. Combined. ^ ause -\ Rhetorical. 54 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. CHAPTER I RESPIRATION. In elocution, mastery of the breath is a fundamental and essential condition of success. The great actor, Talma, in his earlier efforts would, in the more violent passages, so exhaust himself that he would drop against the wings for support. One day he saw Dorival play in a part rpquiring much energy. He noticed that Dorival seemed to work with ease. " How does the man do it!" was his exclama- tion. "I am ten times stronger than he, but he gets ten times less tired than I." He asked Dorival why it was, but got no satisfac- tion. Determining to know his secret, Talma, in disguise, visited Do rival's next performance. During the sec- ond act Talma rushed out crying, "I've got it!" It was by skillful management of breath that Dorival husbanded his strength. His lungs were kept well supplied with air and his breath was given out eco- nomically. TEACHERS. Ah ! how much weariness would be spared the teach- ers in our public schools, did they understand this matter of breath economy ! How many ministers might escape Monday morning prostration if they only understood the same! Breathing exercises, moreover,are medicinal. Through them the feeblest circulation is quickened ; cold hands and feet grow warm ; the pallid face flushes ; the slug- gish pores will open, and the body will be thrown into THE AET OF DELIVERY. 55 a gentle perspiration. By them pure air is driven into lung-cells ; weak lungs are enlarged and strengthened ; indigestion is removed, and the entire being is invig- orated. BEEATHING. DIRECTIONS. Fill the lungs quickly, deeply, reposefully. It is not necessary to lift the shoulders nor to gasp. The air will go into the lungs by virtue of its own weight, if given an opportunity. Do not try to keep the lungs over-extended with air. That is unnatural and tiresome, and cripples speech. INHALATIONS. Practice prolonging the inhalation to the utmost. Beginners rarely succeed in surpassing twenty seconds in their early efforts. A few weeks, with ten minutes practice each day, will enable the student to reach a full minute in a single inhalation. EXHALATIONS. Practice prolonged exhalations, after a quick, full inhalation. After a quick, deep inhalation, give out the breath expulsively, prolonging it to the utmost. Take six such exercises in rapid succession, unless interrupted by dizziness, by faintness, or by palpitation of the heart. In such cases, cease the exercise for a time, but resume and re-resume until such symptoms wholly vanish. Inhaling as above, give out the breath explosively. Repeat the effort a half dozen times, taking great care to open well the throat before expelling the breath. Otherwise the throat would be irritated by this prac- tice. For those who are accustomed to reading and speaking with congested throats, producing, as it in- 56 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. variably must, sore throat, the above practice will prove highly beneficial. Inhale noiselessly. To see a reader or speaker struggling, or to hear him gurgling over his inspira- tions, is most disagreeable. There are tragic, or deeply emotional passages, in the skillful rendering of which, audible inhalation enhances the effect. In this matter let " discretion be your tutor." WASTE NO BREATH. Reading and speaking demand so much vitality that the strongest have no breath to fritter away. Convert all that escapes into voice, and you have learned the secret which Talma sought. That is the key-note to repose and reserve force. 1. With tape measure around bust at rest, see how many inches in circumference you can expand. Re- peat six times. WAIST. 2. With tape around the waist at rest, inhale, noting the amount of expansion. In this exercise the lungs are lengthened vertically, their pushing down account- ing, in great part, for the waist enlargement. SIDES. 3. With fingers spread upon the sides, inhale deeply, swelling the costal muscles as much as possible. Repeat six times. Shoulders still. Chest passive. 4. Spreading fingers upon the back, take full inha- lation six times, noting each time the eifect on the dor- sal muscles. Quiet shoulders. Passive lungs. THE AET OF DELIVERY. 57 ABDOMEN. 5. Fingers pointing forward and downward from the belt, inhale six times deeply, cultivating the greatest possible action of the abdominal muscles. Don't lift the shoulders. Keep the chest quiet. 6. Combine the last three in a single inhalation, re- peating six times. Upon the tone and strength of these muscles depends projectile power in speech. Speakers of both sexes, large in chest and great in weight, sur- prise us often with their feeble voices. That their voices are so small and weak is due largely to the throwing of the burden of speech upon the throat and upper chest muscles. Diseases of the throat and lungs and exhaustion of the vital functions must follow. In the production of the voice, the fulcrum of power should lie in the muscles of the waist. FOEMTJLAS. PROBLEM FLRST. 1. Weight to be lifted — The voice. 2. Fulcrum of power — A congested throat. 3. Lever short. 4. Quotient — Debility. Sore throat. Weak lungs. Feeble circulation. Torpid liver. Voice small and frail. Life short. PROBLEM SECOND. 1. Weight to be lifted — The voice. 2. Fulcrum of power — Muscles of the waist. 3. Lever long. 4. Eesult — Strength. Health. Sound throat. Vig- orous lungs. Active circulation. Lively liver. Voice deep and resonant. Life prolonged. Choose ye which ye will. 7th and finally — Combine in one thoroughly pro- longed inhalation the waist and lung expansion. Be- gin by gradual enlargement of the waist. Without 58 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. allowing the waist to contract, continue the expansion throughout the entire range of the lungs. Invalids who, for years, have not experienced a healthful per- spiration will find this exercise causing to tingle their very finger's tips; their feet to glow with warmth, and the lungs to thrill in every part with pleasure. Re- peated a half dozen times, it will scarcely fail to pro- duce some degree of perspiration. CHAPTER II. PHYSICAL CULTUEE. One form of physical culture, breath gymnastics, has already been treated. Another form, vocal gymnastics, will be defined, in the main, under the head of Vocal Culture. SUGGESTIONS. 1. Place hands upon sides, fingers fronting forward. Give the vowels with full force and volume, with much costal action. 2. Hands on sides, fingers pointing backward. Give vowels as above, with much dorsal action. 3. Fingers pressing upon the abdominal muscles, bring them into active exercise by above methods. In all these exercises see that the shoulders remain quiet and the chest almost passive. The less they per- form the more active will be the waist. Even the most forcible utterances do not lift the shoulders unless some- thing in the nature of the sentiment demands it. Thou- sands are marred by this ungainly lifting and laboring with the shoulders. BODY MOVEMENTS. Body Movements is the name we have given the third form of physical culture. They may be divided into : THE ART OF DELIVERY. 59 1. Gesture. 2. Calisthenics. The former we will treat in a later division. CALISTHENICS. 1. Finger movements. 2. Wrist movements. 3. Elbow movements. 4. Shoulder movements. 5. Full arm movements. 6. Head movements. 7. Trunk movements. 8. Ankle movements. 9. Knee movements. 10. Full limb movements. FINGER MOVEMENTS. Arms extended. Front. Horizontal. Allowing the hands to droop, put the fingers into rapid vibration, moving them freely at all the joints. This may be continued for at least one minute at each drill. WRIST MOVEMENTS. Hands hanging limp from the wrists, move them rapidly up and down, from side to side, and in circles. ELBOW MOVEMENTS. With all the muscles relaxed from the elbows down, carry the fore-arms and hands through the above series of movements. SHOULDER MOVEMENTS. Transferring the pivoted point to the shoulders, movements as above. FIRST FULL ARM MOVEMENTS. Position. — Hands clinched and placed upon breast well back toward points of shoulders. 1. Bring right hand forcibly down in front, resting 60 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. for a moment at the side, and return forcibly to the starting point. Repeat four times, counting "one" "and," "two" "and," "three" and," "four" "and." 2. Left hand through similar movements, counting, "five" "and," "six" "and," "seven" "and," "eight" "and." 3. Alternately four times, sending the right hand down on "one/' bringing right hand back and thrust- ing left hand down simultaneously on " and," reversing on "two," reversing on "and," reversing on "three," reversing on "and," reversing on "four," bringing right hand back to join the left on chest on "and." 4. Both down on "five," back on "and," down on "six," back on "and," down on "seven," back on "and," down on "eight" and back on "and." SECOND FULL ARM MOVEMENT — CIRCULAR. Position. — Hands clinched on chest. 1. Both hands downward, forward, upward and back to starting point in an unbroken circular movement, counting "one," as the hands go down and completing the circuit on "and." Repeat through eight counts, or one strain of music. THIRD FULL ARM MOVEMENT. Position. — Hands clinched and arms extended hor- izontally. 1. Bring rigid right arm up in line with the ear and back to starting point. Do this four times, counting as above. 2. Left arm up and back four times. 3. Alternately four times, lifting right arm on "one," returning right arm and lifting left arm simultaneously on "and," reversing until "four" is counted, then on " and " bring right arm back to keep company with the left in horizontal position. 4. Both arms up and back four times. THE ART OF DELIVERY. 61 FOURTH FULL ARM MOVEMENT. Position. — Right hand clinched, horizontal, front. 1. Describe a circle of two feet in diameter through "four," "and." 2. Left hand as above, through "five," "and," "eight," "and," inclusive. 3. Rotate both, simultaneously, right hand moving from right to left, and left hand the reverse, through "four," "and." 4. Both hands, simultaneously, from right to left, through "five," "and," "eight," "and," inclusive. FIFTH FULL ARM MOVEMENT. Repeat above movements with hands out at the sides. SIXTH FULL ARM MOVEMENT. Position. — Arms extended horizontally, front, hands open, palms together. 1. Throw arms straight back in the horizontal plaue until backs of the hauds come together behind. Re- peat through "eight," "and," the hands coming to- gether in front each time on "and." SEVENTH FULL ARM MOVEMENT. Position. — Hands clinched and resting in the arm- pits, with the wrists bending outward from the sides. 1. Thrust right arm straight down along the side on "one." Back to the starting point on "and." Do the same four times. 2. Left hand the same. 3. Alternately, four times, thrusting the right hand down on "one," bringing it back while thrusting left hand down, alternating until the count of "and" after "four" brings the right at rest in arm-pit. 4. Both hands down and up, simultaneously, four times. 62 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. EIGHTH FULL, ARM MOVEMENT. Position. — Hand clinched, resting on shoulders, thrusting up and bringing back, same order as above. NINTH FULL ARM MOVEMENT. Position. — Hands clinched and resting against the hips, arms rigid. 1. Bring rigid right arm up at the side nntil it rests against the head. Back on "and." This four times. 2. Left arm, likewise, four times. 3. Alternately, four times, first lifting the right arm on "one" — then dropping right arm as the left is lifted. 4. Both up, simultaneously, bringing clinched hands into contact, both back to starting points on " and." Four times. TENTH FULE ARM MOVEMENT. Repeat above movements to the front, keeping head and body quiet, and not allowing the arms to bend at the elbows when brought to the front, head high. ELEVENTH FULL ARM MOVEMENT. Position. — Hands clinched and resting on chest. 1. Right hand to the front, resting at hip on "one," back on "and " Then up, vertically from the shoul- der, on "two," back on "and." Four times, thus down and back, up and back. 2. Left hand likewise. 3. Alternately four times, thrusting right hand down and left hand up, simultaneously, on "one," both back to chest on " and." 4. Both down on "one." Both back on "and." Both up on "two." Both back on "and." Four times. TWELFTH FULL ARM MOVEMENT. Position. — Both hands clinched, resting on chest. THE ART OF DELIVERY. 63 1. Both hands thrust to the right side as far as pos- sible without moving the feet, maintaining a perpen- dicular position with the body and head. Both hands back to chest on "and," with the face to the front in repose. Both hands thrust to the left, turning body as far as possible without moving the feet, standing erect. Both hands back on " and," facing to front. Repeat four times. 2. Both hands to the right side, turning body with the arms, feet stationary, on " one." Back to starting point en "and." Four times. 3. Same movements four time to the left. THIRTEENTH FULL ARM MOVEMENT,, Position. — -Hands clinched, resting on chest, feet firmly together. 1. Without bending the knees forward, thrust both hands downward, touching the floor with the finger tips. To the starting point on "and." Four times. CHIN AND "ADAM'S APPEE." Position. — Natural. 1. Bring the two together on "one." To the start- ing point on "and." Push them far apart on "two" — starting point on "and." Four times. " adam's appee," chin and tongue. Position. — Natural. 1. Thrust all three forward to the utmost on " one." Starting point on "and." 2. Thrust all three as far back as possible on "two." Starting point on " and." Same movements four times. HEAD MOVEMENTS. Position. — Natural. 1. On "one" drop the head as nearly as you can to 64 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. the right shoulder. Starting point on "and." Same movement to the left on "two." Starting point on "and." Four times. 2. Drop the head forward on " one." Starting point on "and." Backward on "two." Starting point on "and." Four times. 3. Right, back, left, front, left, back, right, up. Four times. TRUNK MOVEMENTS. Position. — Body erect, arms hanging loosely at the sides, hands open. 1. Bend body from the hips to the right side on "one." Starting point on "and." Same movement to the left on "two." Starting point on "and." Four times. 2. Bend body to the front from hips on "one." Erect on " and." Same movement backward on " two." Erect on " and." Four times. 3. Right, back, left, front, left, back, right, up. Four times. These Calisthenic exercises, throughout, are intended to give tone and strength to all the muscles that should be used in vocal utterance. For many of them I am indebted to my alma mater, the "National School of Elocution and Oratory." CHAPTER III. AKTICULATION. In reading, in singing and in speech, distinct articu- lation is of the utmost importance. It is the duty of the performer to make himself easily understood. By so much as one absorbs the vitality of an audience in an effort to understand, by that much is one's effective- ness lessened. It is not only discourteous to an audi- THE AKT OF DELIVEKY. 65 enoe to so put it on a strain, but suicidal to the best interests of the speaker. The singer, or speaker, has no more right to present an audience with a faulty articulation, than he has to appear in an unbecoming costume. A voice of moderate strength and volume, sustained by clear, distinct articulation, will make itself under- stood by a much larger number of people than could the most colossal volume, crippled by ill articulation. The only savior for those who inherit impetuosity, is careful articulation. Those who, by nature, do all things quickly, will find great safety in giving special attention to the consonants. Vowels frequently drown the consonants. Be sure you so vocalize the conso- nants that they will carry to the ears of the listeners. Then, however rapid the speech, you will surely make your words heard. SOUNDS -HOW MADE. 1. Long a. Tongue somewhat elevated and thickened, the sides resting against the upper side teeth. By parting well the teeth and slightly projecting and rounding the lips, the quality of tone will be much improved. 2. Short a. Made as is long a, except that the tongue is lowered and pushed further forward, accompanied by a similar change in the movement of the lower jaw. 3. Long Italian a. Differs from long a. in that the lips are somewnat more widely parted, and the tongue drawn further back with tip depressed. 66 TEN WEEKS IX ELOCUTION. 4. Short Italian d. Tongue almost at rest, teeth slightly apart and lips, more widely parted. 5. Long Flat d. Teeth and lips farther apart, with tongue higher and broader than for short Italian a. 6. Long e. Tongue elevated, flattened, and pressed against the upper side teeth. The sound is improved by widely parting the teeth and projecting and rounding the lips. In fact, this last suggestion is equally applicable to all the vowels. 7. Short 8. Differs from long e, by a dropping of the tip of the tongue downward and forward, with a like action of the chin. 8. Tilde e. Tongue thickened, forward part pressing against the upper side teeth ; lips and teeth widely parted. 9. Long 1. Compound movement of tongue and teeth. 1. Tongue pushed back, and thickened at the base, on the " ah" sound — teeth well apart. 2. Position as above de- fined for long e. 10. Short 1. Like long c, except that the tip of the tongue is somewhat lower, and a little less broadened. 11. Long 0. Tongue pressed far back into the roof of the mouth ; teeth very greatly parted; lips puffed and rounded, leaving small opening. THE ART OF DELIVERY. 67 12. Short 8. Base of tongue less elevated, and lips much more widely parted than in long 6. 13. Broad 6. Same as long 6, except a larger mouth-opening, and less elevation of the base of the tongue. This sound requires larger mouth-room than that of any other one in the language. 14- Long u. Compound. For the first position see long T (No. 9). For the second see long 00 (No. 17). 15. Short u. A wider opening of the lips, with a depression of the tip of the tongue, will convert long u into short u. 16. Broad &. Like tilde e, only that the tongue is made shorter and thicker, and the teeth are more widely parted. 17. Long 00, also marked o. Differs from the long 6 position (see 11) in that the lips are more closely compressed and the lower jaws projected a little further forward. 18. Short do, marked also p. Lips more widely parted and teeth more nearly to- gether than in long 00. 19. Diphthong oi. Compound movement. See broad 6 and short 1. 20. Diphthong ou. Compound. See long Italian a and long 00. 68 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. 21. b. Lips compressed. Before parting them vocalize the breath. 22. d. Teeth parted ; tip of tongue pressed against base of upper front teeth. Vocalize before removing the tongue. 23. g. Teeth apart; sides of tongue pressing against the middle-roof of the mouth. Vocalize while in that po- sition. 24. j. Like g, except tongue is pressed further forward, and teeth are brought more nearly together. A slightly aspirated sound is heard at the close of vocalization. Teeth parted, and well covered by the lips ; tongue at tip against the upper front teeth. Vocalize. Lips slightly compressed. Vocalize. Tone par- takes slightly of the nasal. 27. n. Teeth apart; tip of tongue against base of upper front teeth. Vocalize. Nasal tone enters to some ex- tent. 28. Underlined n. Mouth opened; tongue drawn back; base of tongue so thickened and situated as to direct the air into the nasal passages. It is a commingling of the sounds of n and g. 29. r. Chin projected and flattened — teeth parted — lower THE ART OF DELIVERY. 69 lip drawn tightly over lower teeth — sides of the for- ward part of the tongue pressed against the upper side teeth — tip of tongue free and vibratory at moment of vocalization. The simple r is made by being once driven from its position and once returning. A series of such movements produces the trill. The latter should be conscientiously avoided when not demanded by the sense. SO. Sonant tin. Tip of tongue against tip of upper teeth. Vocalize. si. v. Under lip against tip of upper teeth. While in this position vocalize. 32. w. The letter as it stands is made up of the sounds of d, short u, b, 1, y, long double oo. When found in company with other letters it has but one sound, made with organs in almost precisely the position as already defined for long 6, there being a little less opening of the lips, and less lowering of the lower jaw. 33. y. For this sound, draw the lips further back with larger opening of the mouth than for w. 34. z. Tip of tongue back of the upper front gums — side of tongue against upper side teeth — teeth uncovered and almost together — tone and breath united. 35. zh. Differs from z by a slight retraction of the lower jaw and a similar movement of the tongue. 70 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. 36. ch. Differs little from position for j (see 24), only that the breath is aspirated instead of being vocalized. 37. f. Same position as for v (see 31). Aspirating instead of vocalizing. 38. h. As it stands it is equivalent to long a. and ch. When found with other letters it consists of a single breath sound. Tongue drawn back and elevated ; teeth and lips parted ; drive out the aspirated breath by abdomi- nal action. 39. k. Lips and teeth as in h ; middle part of tongue pressed against the mouth just in front of the palate. Force the breath out by a quick action of the diaphragm. 40. p. Similar in position to b (see 21). Gather the breath against the lips. The pushing of them apart by the unvocalized breath gives the sound of p. 41. s. Little change from position of z (see 34). Teeth slightly wider apart and lower jaw a little more re- laxed. It is a hissing sound which, overdone, makes utterance highly unattractive. 42. t. Position as for d (see 22). Explode the gathered breath aspirately by sudden removal of the tongue. 43. Nonsonant th. The position for sonant th (see 30), changed by a THE ART OF DELIVERY. 71 slight removal of the tip of the tongue from the teeth, and forcing out ofthe aspirated breath. U- sh. With the organs in position for zh (see 35), part the teeth a trifle, and slightly relax the lower jaw. Aspi- rate, forcibly, the breath. AKTICULATION EXEKCISES. 1. Did you go to town? 2. Would you fan the flame? 3. Gould you count the cost ? 4. Should you sell seashells? 5. Won't you turn his mind? 6. Can't you come to-day ? 7. Shan't you remain all year ? 8. He is a man of high culture. 9. His gestures are somewhat florid. 10. He ineffectually paves the way. 11. His obituary has not been written. 12. His fortune is virtually made. 13 He is a man of broad education. 14. The furniture in the room is costly. 15. In form and feature he is handsome. 16. In virtue she surpasseth them all. 17. His baths, and oaths, and paths and wreaths are innumerable. 18. Many truths by many youths are spoken. 19. In the matter of thought, he has been carefully taught. 20. A bright thought flashed into his mind. 21. Premonitions avail but little. 22. The communist cries — " Demolition." 23. The relaxation of the muscles is conducive to low pitch. 24. He speaks of all that's good with utter detesta- tion. 72 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. 25. He prematurely promulgated the prelude of his predecessor. 26. His protestation that his partner in matrimony should receive alimony prevented his molestation un- til his economical turn of mind was shown by his pre- sentation of a niggardly pittance. 27. His adventure was a caricature on the creature. 28. His fortune for the future was made by his election to the legislature. 29. To ameliorate the condition of mankind the courtier sometimes contributes. 30. To be a plebeian is, by some, considered a mis- fortune. 31. Sculpture flourishes in the medium temperature, while the Pleiades shine brightest on a frosty air. 32. It is absolutely true that he alluded to his aptitude with a dubious air, and opened anew the avenues of consuming passions. 33. To deduce aright, one must not delude, be he duke or dupe, and to elucidate the truth he should ex- clude, with enthusiasm, all that is obscure. 34. He intuitively introduced the Jew, and flew into a tumultuous review of the stupid institutions of the past. 35. It is evident that while he is honest, and innocent, and fluent, and gifted, that he is a remorseless aspirant for fame's resplendent crown. 36. His pallid face, and faultless form, and ripeness of speech, and melancholy mien, would indicate that he was an aspirant for clerical honors. 37. His declamatory style in the dedicatory remarks, was derogatory to his cause, and should teach him that, in prefatory statements, he should remain within the territory of conversational simplicity. 38. From the fog sprang his noble dog. 39. He will, at any cost, be gone. 40. His cross was often heavy. THE ART O-b .DELIVERY. 73 41. Her pretty, soft hand, and her beautiful song, entranced the vast throng. 42. The duke was out of tune. 43. She played her lute in the county institute. 44. He was on the verge of doffing the ermine. 45o His purpose was an earnest one. 46. Mirth is a fertile source of health. 47. He is exempt from preemption law. 48. Would we were rational in all national matters. 49. To advance his cause, he at last undertook the task of blasting the communistic class, w r ho bask in the rays of others' prosperity. 50. His form was laid beneath the yew-tree's shade, and in that narrow cell he lies, hidden forever from all mortal eyes. CHAPTER IY. OKTHOEPY. To be disregardful of little things, is no evidence of greatness. There are those who say : " Let that man alone. Leave him as God made him. Don't touch his gesture, his voice, his speech. Let him be natural. When the crisis comes he will be equal to any emergency." There are men who think that though they daily talk in rasping tones, and in ignorance of all grammatical or rhetorical law, and in words ill- pronounced — that w T hen the responsibility comes and they face a judge, or jury, or audience, they will do all these things well. With as much reason we would ex- pect a man, ignorant of Physiology, Anatomy and Hygiene, to be able, skillfully, to handle the most com- plicated case of surgery, on the heat of the occasion. That is not the way in which we argue if we wish a pilot across the sea. We ask for an educated rather than an inspirational engineer. We apply common sense 74 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. to almost any profession, save the one of Oratory. If you will but observe, you will find that those who think that it matters little how they stand, or how they look, or in what voice they speak, or how they pro- nounce — men who would take offense were you to criticise them on one of those points — are holders of a $600 annual salary — when they can collect it. These things are not too small for a great man, but they are too large for a narrow man. The higher the position held and the greater the influ- ence wielded, the more conscientiously should the speaker pronounce his words correctly. " Oh ! he says ' der-read ' for dread, and he's a leader i surely, I can say it who am a private." " He says 'culch-er' for culture, and he is one of the most prominent speakers in the country." " He says 'inef-feck-chew-al' for ineffectual, and he has no small salary." "He says 'diju go?' for did you go? and 'won chu stay?' for won't you stay? and 'education' for educa- tion, and he draws large houses." He draws th/> houses despite his butcheries, not because of them. EULES GOVERNING PRONUNCIATION. The letter a, composing an unaccented syllable or an unempha- sized word, takes the sound of short Italian a. When accented oj emphasized it is long a. Short Italian a. Such words as ask, task, past, grass, repast, are by multitudes in- correctly called ask, task, past, grass, repast. Others say ask, task past, grass repast. Below is given a few of the words in common use, requiring tlw short Italian a. The short Italian a is frequently given as short 6, short I, or long a. Anna, not Anne; Alabama, not Alabamy; Dakota, not Dakota. The short Italian a is found mainly in monosyllables ending i» THE AET OF DELIVERY. 75 ff, ft, nee, nch, nt, sk, sp, st, ss. Ask, task, bask, cask, flask, mask, asp, grasp, clasp, gasp, aghast, repast, contrast, advance, entrance, enhance, advantage, basket, casket, blanch, cranch, branch, blast, past, mast, hast, cast, passed, caste, fast, last, brass, grass, mass, class, glass, lass, pass, amass, aLas, bombast, chaff, quaff, staff, chance, glance, prance, trance, dance, lance, chant, slant, grant, pant, ant, craft, graft, abaft, draught, draft, quaffed, baft, shaft, waft, ghastly, vastly, lastly, pasture, pastor, castor, plaster, vaster, rafter, grafter. Long Italian a. This sound is often perverted so much as to be given like short &. Say neither — {lawnch, ( aunt, ( flaunt, f gaunt, ( calf, f half, nor -j nor -j nor -j nor < nor < nor lanch, I awnt, I flawnt, {_ gawnt, ( cawf, ( hawf. Below is given a short list of words containing long Italian at ah, pa, ma, bah, art, heart, part, mart, cart, tart, aunt, gaunt, flaunt, taunt, avaunt, balm, psalm, calm, calf, half, laugh, laughter, laugh- able, dauntless, avaunt, laundry. A, before terminal r, or rr, in monasyllabic words, unless itself be preceded by w, has the sound of long Italian a, as in far, tar, car, char, star. Long flat &. Many speak pear as though it were pronounced payer, and stare like stayer. Say pear, pair, care, stare, share, flare, tear, wear, fair, snare, etc. Long e. Near, not nare. Fear, not fare. Spear, not spare. Short e. Gifted, not giftid. Innocent, not innysiint. Honest, not honist. Dec6nt, not decunt. Kequiem, not requium. Kipengss, not ripe- ntiss. Tilde e. fiarth, not tirth. Girl is not gftrl. Mirth, not nmrth. First, not fiirst. Pronounce girl, twirl, whirl, birth, earth, girth, earl, pearl, «arn, fern, discern, her, fir, myrrh, firm, rehearse, cracker, broker, 76 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. maker, striker, nadir, southern, eastern, fertile, perfect, persuade, permanent, perform, permeate. • Long I. Say fine, not foine. Shine, not shoine. Kind, not coyand. Short 1. Say pallid, not pallud. Inspiration, not insperation. Beautiful, not beautuful. Dedicatory, not dedicatory. Deficit, not defucgt. P. S. — Let all the short vowels be given quickly, crisply, clearly. Long 5. Say more, not mawr. Four, not for. Gore, not gawr. Board, not bawrd. Innocent, not innicent. Short 6. Avoid broad 6 and do not drawl the short 5. Say dog, not dawg. F6g, not fawg. Sod, not sawd. G5d, not gawd. Pronounce hog, off, often, soft, cross, cost, accost, gone, long, song, thong, prong, strong, moss, gloss, grog, frog, plod, nod, hod, pod, rod. Broad 6. Say thought, not thOt. Caught, not cSt. Fought, not f6t. Taught (tawt), not t5t. SSught, not sSt. Fraught (frawt), not frSt. Pronounce gaudy, pawn, morn, George, gorge, Gaul, pall, fall, stall, tall, shawl, mortgage, thought, caught, sought, taught. Long oo. Say root, not root. Food, not food. Soon, not soon. Pronounce rood, mood, brood, hoof, proof, truth, groom, bloom, tomb, boon, soon, moon, fool, pool, tool, room, noon, wound. U equals oo when preceded by r, s. sh, z, zh. Kude, sure, azure. Short oo. Say good, not gud. Full (do), not ful. Pull (oo), not pul. Foot, not fut. Pronounce book, took, nook, full, pull, hook, pullet, put, push, THE ART OF DELIVERY. 77 Jjong u. In many sections of the country this letter is sadly mutilated. It suffers at the hands of high and low, rich and poor, black and white. It is a handsome letter when properly pronounced. Per- haps nine-tenths, even among the educated classes, give long oo for long u. Very few people would say beautifnl (bootiful), but the same people who say beautiful (butiful), will pronounce dew (doo), new (noo), lute (loot), duke (dook) or (jook). Do not say toon, for tune. " " " ploom, for plume. " " " enthoosiasm, for enthusiasm. " « " dooly, for duly. " " " noo, for new. " « « allood, for allude. Short u. Say hiatus, not hiatis. Herbivorous, not herbivoris. Gums, no gomes nor gooms. Pronounce up, sup, tub, hub, cup, flood, blood, must, just, trust, dust. d. Say deduce, not dejuce. Duly, not July. Deducible, not deju- cible. Duty, not juty. Induce, not injuce. Pronounce duty, duly, deduce, durable, endure, enduring, ver- dure. yoo. Say fortune, not forenoon, or forchun, or forchin, or forchgn. Say future (futyoor), not fuch6r. Say gesture (gestyoor), not jescher. Say sculpture (sculptyoor), not sculpcher. Say plebeian (plebeyan), pleiads (pleyads). Say furniture (furnityoor), not furnichur. e. u. r. The above three letters, in their mastery, cost students more toil than any others in the list. Practice them frequently. earth, earl, earn, learn, stern, purge, furl, urn, burn, turn. Y6 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. This is another trinity of difficulties. To distinguish neatly, one from the other, requires much practice. ant, tash, plant, martha, mat, hand, plaid, guaranty, air, pear, prayer, scarcely, c. The letter c never appears so in phonic writing, c = k, in care. c = s, in cent. c = sh, in ocean. ch. ch = ch, in chain, ch = sh, in chaise, ch — k, in chaos. Do not say queschun for question. Ineffechual for ineffectual. Ejucation for education. Virchue for virtue. ain. This combination is, quite often, equivalent to in. Mountain. Fountain. an. In such words as and, hand, man, there are two errors to avoid : and, not and nor and ; hand, not hawnd nor hand ; man, not m5n nor man ; span, not spaen nor span. b. After m, in the same syllable, the letter b is usually silent, as bomb, comb, dumb, lamb, numb, tomb. Rhomb is one of a few exceptions. c. c = k in sceptic and scirrhus. c = s in censure, cent and many other words. c = z in suffice, sacrifice and discern. c, before e, i and y, as a rule, has the sound of s. accent. cymbal. cygnet. decent. cinder. juicy. excite. celery. celebrate. THE AET OF DELIVEKY. 79 d. In words, or syllables, ending with the sound of d, care should be taken not to allow the tongue to be pushed from its position by unvocalized breath, in which case it becomes t. Again, do not prolong the sound, nor slight it. Find the golden mean. dread = dr6d, not der-red. drive = drlv, not dSr-riv. With exception of a, e added to monosyllables in which r, or rr, is terminal preceded by a vowel, converts the vowel into its long sound. car -j- e = care. her -f- e = here, far -f- e = fare. sir -f- e = sire. star-f e = stare. for -f e = fore. cur -f- e = cure, ed. Usually, in verbs, ed = t, while ed retains the sound of e when used adjectively. Verbs and Participles. blessed. worked, cursed. incensed. Participial Adjectives. blessed. abhorred. aged, cursed. condemned. famed. el. Terminal el ordinarily retains the e in utterance, as in rebel, bar- rel, bushel, camel, cancel, channel, chapel, chisel, gravel, gospel, hovel, novel, kennel, model, squirrel, tassel, travel, tunnel. Exceptions. — Barbel, betel, chattel, drivel, easel, grovel, hazel, mantel, mussel, navel, ousel, ravel, rivel, scovel, shovel, shrivel, shekel, snivel, swingel, swivel, teasel, toggel, weasel. Terminal en usually drops the e, as in chasten, driven, even, fasten, given, heaven, leaven, often, riven, soften, taken. Among the exceptions are: Aspen, chicken, hyphen, gluten, kitchen, lichen, linden, marten, mitten, latten, mynchen, patten, 80 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. platen, rowen, sudden, pollen, omen, linen, siren, sloven, wicken, woolen, yewen. ex. These two sounds, which freely coalesce, are by many separated, thus: fear is fer, not feer. terrible is tenbl, not turubL vernal is vernal, not vurnul. eto The same may be said of this combination: set is sSt, not seut. met is niSt, not meut. g- Following e, i, or y, g almost always takes the sound of j. gentry. girl. gyration, gender. gin. gymnast, germane. giant. gypsum. Exceptions. — Gelding, geese, giving, girt, muggy, foggy, grew = groo, not ger-roo. guard = giird, not ge-yard. grand = grand, not ger-rand. With h between g and e, i, or y, g has its hard sound. Gherkin. h. why = hwl. when = hwen. where = hwar. what = hw5t, etc. il. Terminal il commonly sounds the i, as in civil and pencil. It The same is true of the i, in terminal in, as in martin, replevin. It is silent in basin, cousin, raisin. om. In this combination the o is frequently pronounced short u, as in bomb, bombast, come, comely, comfort. THE ART OF DELIVERY. 81 on. While in the combination on, the o is often pronounced ob- scurely. Briton, cordon, ebon, piston, ribbon, sexton, wanton. In hexagon, octagon, etc., the o is short. In bacon, beacon, beckon, etc., the o is silent. ou. count = k-ou-nt, not ke-yount. kind = k-i-nd, not ke-yind. ow. cow = kou, not ke-yow. now = nou, not na-yow. r. Say car, not caw, nor kear. Hair, not ha. Birth, not buth. Nor, not naw. Patter, not pattah. Scatter, not scattah. Bar, not bah. Forlorn, not fawlaun. Farm, not fahm. rr. When two r's come together in the same word, but one is usually sounded. For no other reason should r ever be suppressed. Furry = furi. Carry = kari. Hurry = hurl. Marry = m&ri. s. Retain the sound of s in the following words: Absorb, Asia, Asiatic, basalt, cassimere, conservator, conversant, designate, de- sist, desultory, etc. s = z in design, osier, composure. s = zh in collision, delusion, persuasion. s = sh in censure, commensurate. shriek = shrek, not srek. shrew = shroo, not sroo. strike = strik, not stSrrike. she, under emphasis, is she. she, not under emphasis, is she. to, under emphasis, equals too. to, not under emphasis, equals too. tomorrow = toomorro, not termorrer. 6 82 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. TERMINAL CONSONANTS. These exist in almost endless variety and intricacy. To master them in their multiplied combinations, is to render the lips and tongue exceedingly flexible and trustworthy. The failure to give them proper prominence is one of the most fruitful sources of in- distinctness. Unless careful, the d in and will not be heard. " " " t in swift will not be heard. some mice will be some ice. r will not be heard in dower. t will not be heard in crossed. pain no will be pain o. rests will be res. acts will be ax. swept will be swep. make clean will be make lean. aeronaut will be arenaut. aerial will be arial. wreath'dst will be wreathst. imprison'dst will be imprisonst. attempdst will be attemst. too. too, under emphasis, is too. too, not under emphasis, is too. un. unknown is unknown, not onknown. unseen is unseen, not Snseen. untried is untried, not Sntried. VOWELS. The vowels preceding r terminal, in a syllable, are short, if the next syllable begins with a vowel. arable, perish, miracle, foreign. Among the exceptions are : Alarum, flaring, glaring, curing, staring, wearing, etc. The vowels are short before rr, not terminal, as : Carry, horror, sorrow, parry, tarry, ferry, cherry, etc. tt tl tl tl tt it tt tt tt tl tt it tt tt it tt it it tt It tt tt it tl tt tt THE AUT OF DELIVERY. 83 The vowels should not be allowed to overawe or vanquish the consonant sounds. x = ks. e. g. excuse = 6kskus. x = gz. e. g. exist == egzist. This letter never constitutes an entire word. Y, I am going to- day — is bad. Y, I said so— is bad. DICTIONARY WORK premature aggrandized donative promulgate stipend distichs demarcation philology subsidence detestation orthoepy diocesan relaxation feticism laryngitis demolition tergiversation carotid protestation acumen apparently prematurely prescience lethargic economical misogynist chalcedonic molestation discern overtures presentation aspirant dromedary ephemeral acetic absolutory comely laboratory cognizant hypochondriacal globules amour lugubrious iodine withe didactic albumen inveigled dishonest caoutchouc interloper ribald subjected houghing grimaces numerous palfrey pedal altercations joust pedals virago prebendary adamantine ally abjectly saturnine equability albeit wassails divan respirable telegrapher contemplated aerie. diploma elysium 84 TEH WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. In the following words omit the syllable indicated : Agricultur(al)ist. Conversation (al)ist. Horticultur(al)ist. Prevent(at)ive. These vowel sounds which, under emphasis, are long, should be spoken with a tendency to the short sound when not under em- phasis. She, under emphasis. She, not under emphasis. The, under emphasis. The, not under emphasis. Their (a), under emphasis. Their not under emphasis. They (a), under emphasis. They not under emphasis. To (60), under emphasis. To not under emphasis. We, under emphasis. We not under emphasis. You (60), under emphasis. You not under emphasis. Your (00), under emphasis. Your not under emphasis. While Englishmen are more prone to drop letters and slight sounds in pronunciation, than are Americans, yet they possess points of superiority over us. They declaim, with little stress on the syllables of secondary accent. We, as a rule, put so much stress on this syllable that it is difficult to tell which is our pri- mary, and which is our secondary accent. These are a few of the many words of this nature: Migratory, inventory, matrimony, dedicatory, derogatory, category, parsimony, predatory, terri- tory, in all of which the English method is much smoother and more musical than ours. The Golden Mean. We should avoid extremes. New, as ne-yew is one extreme. New, as noo is another. In all such words strike the long ii, neatly, trippingly, inoffensively. THE ART OF DELIVERY. 85 Guide, as ge-yde, is one extreme. Guide, as goide, is another extreme. Nature with the t and y widely separated and emphasized is offensive. Nature, as nacher, is offensive. O-bit-uary, with painful prominence given to the b and t, is bad. Obituary, as obich-u-ary, is worse. Did you, drawling out the d and y, is contrary to good taste. Did you, as diju, is in no better taste. Inspiration, with the short I snappishly uttered, is to be con- demned. Inspiration, as insperation, should no less be condemned. In all these things, while not overstepping the bounds of mod- esty in an attempt at precision, yet one must not fall into a slovenly, unscholarly pronunciation. HI Used Words. Do not say " lit " for lighted. Do not say " proven " for proved. Do not say " plead " for pleaded. Do not say "onto" for on or upon. Do not say " gents " for gentlemen. "Enthuse" is not in good taste. "In our midst " is a threadbare phrase, and means "in the midst of us." Do not say " partially " for partly. Do not say " lady " for wife- Do not say "helpmeet" for wife. Do not say " helpmate " for wife. Do not say " companion " for wife. Do not say "lady" for woman. "At one fell swoop" should rust into decay. If we say " that was a ' lengthy ' performance," may we not say "it was a 'strengthy' performance?" Do not say " leniency " when " lenity " means as much. Do not "jeopardize" your time by using so long a word, when "jeopard " is quite as good. A " reliable " witness may lie again, but a " creditable " one may be believed. 86 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. His " pants " are all right if the man is out of breath, but " trousers " are for wear. " Lunch " may satisfy the lowly, but " luncheon " is for him who speaks correctly. The student does not "graduate," but is "graduated." You are " mistaken " if you are taken for some one else. You "mistake" if you are in error. Do not say " authoress" and " poetess." There can be nothing " different to " any thing else. " Grant " is shorter and neater than " donate." " Think " is shorter and better than " apprehend." " Severe," rather than " condign " punishment. Do not say " casualty " for " accident." Do not say " predicate " for " declare." Do not say " alluded to " unless you merely made mention of. Do not say " individual" for " person." Do not say " portion " for " part." Do not say " balance " for " remainder." Do not say " bound " for " determined." Do not say " widow woman " for " widow." Do not say " own " for " confess." Do not say " less " for " fewer." Do not say " administer " for " dealt." Do not say " aggravate " for " provoke." Do not say " alone " for " only." Do not say " amateur" for " novice." Do not say " consider " for regard. Never say " got " if you can avoid it. There is no such word as " illy." He does not succeed " nicely." Do not say "overflown " for " overflowed." No one person ever ran " pell-mell." Present your inferiors ; introduce your equals. Do not say " promise " for { JJJ^ Say " sitting hen," if she is sitting. So "high a tree," instead of "such " a high tree. An "underhand" act, not an "underhanded" act. Do not say " upward " for " more." THE ART OF DELIVERY. 87 DICTIONARY WORK. adipose anchovy alias sarcenet Asiatic sepulture Chinese cadaver cognac coadjutant coronal protege decorous granary enervate charivari morphine apparatus opportune coterie proscenium. romance renaissance placard retrocede extol sinecure gratis umbilicus gala unfrequented peony vagary supple vase tiny copaiba squalor quinine demesne almond canine envelopes brooch AN EXERCISE FOR READING. There is nothing more enervating than the bearing of a gigantean cognomen. His gondola glides o'er the legendary waters of the Lethean stream, carrying him further from his coadjutors and his allies, toward a combative country of aristocratic proclivities, where he may indulge his epicurean appetite in an indefatigable way; where his vagaries will no longer prove revolting, and where his peremptory authority will take precedence in a manner wholly inexplicable. It is sacrilegious to exhaust one's self in making an example, in no way obligatory, of a friend, who will surely become an irrevocable enemy, and who will vehemently pronounce an irreparable anathema on his complaisant traducer, simultaneously making demonstrable the fact that, though he is crippled, he is not vanquished. 'T were better his friend had dealt in homoeopathic doses, or waited a decade of years, than to have made himself amenable to his neighbor's anger in allopathic de- gree, for his opponent will not be slow to test the acoustics of the OO TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. slanderer's head, in the most vehement manner, though an exem- plary Christian. Upon his assailant he will heap contumely and much scathing raillery, showing himself no amateur with his splenetic tongue, but, on the contrary, a man conversant with his recitative. CHAPTEE Y. VOCAL CULTUKE. I. Give the vowels in a pure, conversational tone. Do this until there is left no jot of hardness or harsh- ness in the tone. II. Taking the vowels in order, one by one, at a medium pitch, prolong the tones to the utmost. This is to teach economy of voice, management of voice, con- trol of breath, and reposeful attitude. Be sure, in the prolonged tone exercises, that your voice maintains the same volume throughout ; that the vibratory movements of the voice are equal in length, and that no impurity shall at any moment creep into the voice. Again in- sist on the conversion of all the breath into tone. In preparing for this exercise, take a quick, deep inspira- tion. See that the shoulders are not lifted much in this action. Do not allow a sudden collapse of the lungs at the first stroke of the voice as you begin to exhale. This sudden escape of breath at the very beginning is the chief cause of the beginner's inability to prolong tones. With ten minutes, practice daily the student can, in three months' time, carry a single tone a minute. III. Give the vowels with full volume. Gather your force from the abdominal muscles. Jostle the shoulder but little in the giving of the sounds. Keep the chest almost passive. IV. In the same exercise try, with a bit of tissue paper immediately in front of lips, to give the tones THE ART OF DELIVERY. 89 with fullest force, without causing the paper to stir. If you succeed, you have the breath under good control, and can husband your strength by speaking with ease. V. Take the vowels, step by step, from your con- versational key to the highest you can command, pre- serving the smoothness and purity of tones throughout. At no time tax or congest the throat. Let it rest. Make the body work. Send the tones out through the mouth, not through the nose. VI. Carry the vowels from your conversational key to the lowest you can reach, insisting on the same con- ditions as before. VII. Prolong the tones to the utmost in the conver- sational key ; in your highest, and in your lowest. The rapidity with which voices, by nature harsh and dis- cordant, grow smooth and pure under this simple drill, is amazing. No less surprising is the conversion of weak or piping voices, into voices of wondrous volume and roundness of tones. VIII. Strike the vowel with full volume and force, gradually allowing it to die away. In this exercise, take care not to contract or stiffen the throat, otherwise the soundest would quickly be- come irritated. Such congestion is perhaps the most prolific cause of chronic sore throat, and in many cases leads to troubles of the lungs. IX. With full force and volume strike the vowels suddenly and as suddenly cut off the voice. Again I warn the student against congestion of the throat. With a throat at repose and a body at work, this voice drill becomes at once a promoter of health and strength. X . With voice at slightest audible tone, gradually enlarge it to your fullest volume. Aim to have the lungs exhausted at the moment of reaching your fullest volume. Do not continue the tone when it ceases to increase in volume. Do not alter the pitch during this effort. 90 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Few persons, on their first attempt, can attain much volume; fewer can maintain the oneness of pitch, and not more than one in a thousand can exhaust his breath and reach the fullest volume simultaneously. Ordinarily, the beginner finds his voice failing him within twenty seconds. A few weeks systematic prac- tice will enable the same pupil to attain a half minute. XI. Opening on the vowel with full volume and force, without altering the key, carry the vowel to the slightest audible tone. Do not allow the voice to de- scend by jerks, nor to diminish very suddenly at first. XII. Combine tenth and eleventh exercises. To be able to reach one-third of a minute at the first attempt will be the lot of very few. XIII. Trill the vowels until breath is exhausted, preserving one pitch, one volume, and equal length of vibrations. Near to the lips, without jostling the paper, give the vowels as above. When you succeed in this, if you are a minister, you will not suffer from Monday prostrations ; and if a teacher, your day's work will not close, finding you in husky voice. One who can do this, and will persist daily in practice, will soon find himself the possessor of sound throat and lungs. VOCAL DKILL. 1. Give the vowels as in common conversation. 2. Pure, and prolonged to utmost. 3. With full force and volume. 4. Prolong No. 3 to the utmost. 5. From conversational to highest key. 6. From conversational to lowest key. 7. Prolong 5 and 6 to the utmost. 8. Full force and volume with vanish. 9. Prolong the vanish. CRESCENDO. 10. With voice at slightest audible tone, begin each vowel, gradually enlarging it to its fullest volume. THE ABT OF DELIVERY. 91 DIMINUENDO. 11. Striking each vowel with the fullest volume, gradually let it die away to the slightest audible tone. 12. Combine 10 and 11 ; thus, swell O. 13. TriI2 the vowels, prolonging them to the utmost. PURE VOICE — CONVERSATIONAL STYLE. Exercises. 1. There's a Magical Isle up the river Time, Where the softest 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 straying. —B. F. Taylor. 2. " Well, well, let him think so, the dear little elf, 'Twould be cruel to tell him I did it myself." — Mrs. Snow. 3. But while she was still very young — O, very, very young — the sister drooped, and came to be so weak that she could no longer stand in the window at night ; and then the child looked sadly out by himself, and when he saw the star, turned round and said to the patient, pale face on the bed : " I see the star." And then a smile would come upon the face, and a little weak voice used to say : " God bless my brother and the star ! " — Dickens. 4. Suit the action to the word ; the word to the action ; with this special observance — that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature : for any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing; which end, both at the first and now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature : to show virtue her own feature ; scorn her own image ; and the very age and body of the time, his form and pressure. — Shakspere. 5. Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money ; come ye, buy, and eat ; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. — Bible. 6. The moon above the eastern wood Shone at its full ; the hill-range stood Transfigured in the silver flood, Its blown snows flashing cold and keen, Bead white, save where some sharp ravine 92 TEN - WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Took shadow, or the somber green Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black Against the whiteness at their back. For such a world and such a night Most fitting that unwarming light, Which only seemed where'er it fell To make the coldness visible. Shut in from all the world without, We sat the clean-winged hearth about. Content to let the north wind roar In baffled rage at pane and door, While the red logs before us beat The frost line back with tropic heat; And ever, when a louder blast Shook beam and rafter as it passed, The merrier up its roaring draught The great throat of the chimney laughea The house-dog on his paws outspread Laid to the fire his drowsy head, The cat's dark silhouette on the wall A couchant tiger's seemed to fall ; And, for the winter fireside meet, Between the andiron's straddling feet, The mug of cider simmered slow, The apples sputtered in a row, And, close at hand, the basket stood With nuts from brown October's wood. What matter how the night behaved? What matter how the north wind raved? Blow high, blow low, not all its snow Could quench our hearth fire's ruddy glow. O, Time and change ! with hair as gray As was my sire's that winter day, How strange it seems, with so much gone Of life and love, to still live on 1 Ah, brother ! only I and thou Are left of all that circle now, — ■ The dear home faces whereupon THE ART OF DELIVERY. 93 That fitful firelight paled and shone. Henceforward, listen as we will, The voices of that hearth are still ; Look where we may, the wide earth o'er, Those lighted faces smile no more. We tread the paths their feet have worn We sit beneath their orchard trees, We hear, like them, the hum of bees And rustle of the bladed corn ; We turn the pages that they read, Their written words we linger o'er, But in the sun they cast no shade, No voice is heard, no sign is made, No step is on the conscious floor! Yet Love will dream and Faith will trust, (Since He who knows our need is just) That some how, some where, meet we must. Alas for him who never sees The stars shine through his cypress trees I Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful marbles play ! Who hath not learned in hours of faith, The truth to flesh and sense unknown, That Life is ever lord of Death, And Love can never lose its own ! — Whittier. EXERCISES FOE, FULL FORCE AND PROJECTILE POWER. 1. In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! — Longfellow. 2. Hurrah ! hurrah ! a single field Hath turned the chance of war, Hurrah ! Hurrah ! for Ivry and King Henry of Navarre. — T. B. Macaulay. 3. The armaments, which thunder-strike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And monarchs tremble in their capitals — 94 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, an arbiter of war — These are thy toys ; and, as the snowy flake They melt into thy yeast of waves which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. — Byrt was. —Bible. 4. On ! On ! Courage ! One effort more, and all is won ! The stair is passed — the blazing hall is braved ! Still on ! Yet on ! Once more ! Thank heaven, She's saved ! — JR. T. Conrad. 6. Another year has parted, and its knell Is sounding now o'er the past's silent ocean. Ah, it is an hour for tears ! There is a specter- form In memory's voiceless chambers, pointing now Its dim, cold finger to the beautiful And holy visions that have passed away, And left no shadow of their loveliness On the dead waste of life. — George D. Prentice. (See The Fall of Pemberton Mill, page 175.) 106 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. CHAPTER VI. QUALITY. CONVERSATIONALLY PURE. For exercises see section first, Vocal Culture. OROT UND. Exercises. 1. 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 ever- lasting, thou art God. — Bible. 2. Am I, who have lived but for my country, and who have subjected myself to the dangers of the jealous and watchful op- pressor, and the bondage of the grave, only to give my country- men their rights, and my country her independence, and am I to be loaded with calumny, and not suffered to resent or repel it? No, God forbid ! — Robert Emmett. 3. O, Cromwell, Cromwell ! Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies. — Shakspere. 4. I can still drink in the unshadowed Beauty of the universe, gaze with a Swelling soul upon the blue magnificence above, And hear the hymn of Heaven in every Starlight ray, and fill glen, hill, and vale, And mountain, with the bright and Glorious visions poured from the deep home Of an immortal mind. Past year, farewell ! 5. Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My judgment approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. All that 1 have, and all that I am, and all that I hope, in this life, I am now ready here to stake upon it, and T leave off as I began, that, live or die, survive or perish, I am for the Declaration. — Daniel Webster. (See Apostrophe to the Ocean, page 98.) THE ART OF DELIVERY. 107 PECTORAL QUALITY. Exercises. 1. 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. — E. E. Evans. 2. Dead, your majesty. Dead, my lords and gentlemen. Dead, Eight Eeverends and Wrong Reverends of every order. Dead, men and women born with heavenly compassion in your hearts. And dying thus around us every day. — Dickens. 3. Perishing gloomily, Spurred by contumely, Cold inhumanity, Burning insanity, Into her rest ! Cross her hands humbly, As if praying dumbly, Over her breast ! — Thomas Hood. 4. And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted— nevermore. — E. A. Poe. 5. Now a shroud of snow and silence over every thing was And but for this old blue mantle and the old hat on my head, I should not have even doubted, to this moment, I was dead, For my footsteps were as silent as the snow upon the dead. — F. Wilson. (See On the Shores of Tennessee, page 219.) GUTTURAL QUALITY. Exercises. 1. Tell me, ye bloody butchers ! Ye villains, high and low ! Ye wretches who contrived, as well as you who executed the inhu- 108 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. man deed ! Do you not feel the goads and stings of conscious guilt pierce through your savage bosoms? — John Hancock. 2. Ay down to the dust with them, slaves as they are ! From this hour let the blood in their dastardly veins That shrunk from the first touch of liberty's war, Be sucked out by tyrants, or stagnate in chains ! — Thomas Moore. 3. I loathe ye in my bosom, I scorn ye with my eye ! ' I'll taunt ye with my latest breath, And fight ye 'till I die! — G. W. Patten. 4. Ay, down to the dust with them, slaves as they are ! From this hour let the blood in their dastardly veins, That shrunk from the first touch of Liberty's war, Be sucked out by tyrants, or stagnate in chains ! On, on like a cloud, through their beautiful vales, Ye locusts of tyranny ! blasting them o'er : Fill, fill up their wide, sunny waters, ye sails, From each slave mart in Europe, and poison their shore. May their fate be a mock-word — may men of all lands Laugh out with a scorn that shall ring to the poles, When each sword that the cowards let fall from their hands Shall be forged into fetters to enter their souls ! And deep, and more deep, as the iron is driven, Base slaves ! may the whet of their agony be To think — as the damned haply think of the heaven They had once in their reach — that they might have been free. Shame ! shame ! when there was not a bosom whose heat Ever rose o'er the zero of Castlereagh's heart, That did not, like echo, your war hymn repeat, And send back its prayers with your Liberty's start ! Shame! shame! that in such a proud moment of life, Worth ages of history — when, had you but hurled One bolt at your bloody invader, that strife Between freemen and tyrants had spread through the world ! That then — O, disgrace upon manhood ! e'en then You should falter, — should cling to your pitiful breath, THE AET OF DELIVERY. 109 Cower down into beasts, when you might have stood men, And prefer a slave's life to a glorious death ! It is strange! — it is dreadful! Shout, Tyranny, shout Through your dungeons and palaces. " Freedom is o'er" — If there lingers one spark of her fire, tread it out, And return to your empire of darkness once more. For if such are the braggarts that claim to be free, Come, Despot of Kussia, thy feet let me kiss ; Far nobler to love the brute bondman of thee, Than sully e'en chains by a struggle like this. — Thomas Moore, FALSETTO QUALITY. Exercises. 1. "There's a providence in it. It is foreordained. He never was sick before — never." — Mark Twain. 2. And den I tom'd home and eated my tea, And I tlim'd on grandpapa's knee, And I's 'des as tired as tired 'tan be. — F. B. Smith. 3. Ho! Cravens! Do you fear him ? Slaves! Traitors! have ye flown ? Ho ! cowards ! have ye left me to meet him here alone — A. G. Greene. 4. Well, why tan't we p'ay dus as mamma did den, And ast Dod to send him with p'esents aden? — Mrs. Snow. 5. Help ! Help ! Will no one aid ? I die ! I die ! — R. T. Conrad. 6. John Davison and Tibbie, his wife, Sat toastin' their taes ae nicht, When something starlit in the fluir, And blinkit by their sicht. "Guid wife," quoth John, " did ye see that moose? Whar sorra was the cat ? " u A moose ? " — "Ay, a moose." " Na, na, guid man — It was na a moose, 'tvvas a rat." u Ow, ow, guid wife, to think ye've been Sae lang aboot the hoose, 110 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. An na to ken a moose frae a rat ! Yon was na a rat ! 'twas a moose." " I've seen mair mice than ye, guid man — An' what think ye o' that? Sae haud your tongue an' sae nae mair — I tell ye, it was a rat." " Me haud my tongue for ye, guid wife ! 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, guid wife, gae mak' the brose, An' ca' it what ye please." So up she rose, and made the brose, While John sat toastin' his toes. 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. u Sic fules we were to fa' oot, guid wife, Aboot a moose " — "A what ? It's a lee ye tell, and I say again, It was na a moose, 'twas a rat ! " "Wad ye ca' me a leear to me very face? My faith, but ye graw croose ! 1 tell ye, Tib, I ne'er will bear 't — 'Twas a moose ! "— " 'Twas a rat ! "— " 'Twas a moose ! : Wi' her spoon she strack him ower the pow — "Ye dour auld doit, tak' that — Gae to yere bed, ye canker'd sumph, 'Twas a rat!" "'Twas a moose!" "'Twas a rat!" She sent the brose caup at his heels, As he hirpled ben the hoose; THE ART OF DELIVERY. Ill Yet he shoved oot his head as he steepit the door, And cried, "'Twas a moose! 'twas a moose!" But when the carl was fast asleep, She paid him back for that, And roar'd into his sleepin' lug, " 'Twas a rat ! 'Twas a rat ! 'Twas a rat ! " The de'il be wi me if I think It was a beast ava! — Neist mornin' as she sweepit the fluir, She found wee Johnnie's ba' ! NASAL QUALITY. Exercises. 1. Nur I can't see What's the use o' wings to a bumble-bee, Fur to git a livin' with, more'n to me ; — Ain't my business Important 's his'n is ? — Trowbridge. 2. Ye see, Ike was allers for gettin' what he could out 'o the town, and he would feed his sheep on the meetin'-house green. Some how or other Ike's fences allers contrived to give out, come Sunday, and up would come his sheep, and Ike was too pious to drive 'em back Sunday, and so there they was. — Mrs. Stowe. ASPIRATED QUALITY. Exercises. 1. And soldiers whisper: " Boys, be still ; There's some bad news from Grainger's folks ! " — Ethel Lynn. 2. And the next thing I remember yon were sitting there, and I — Doctor— did you hear a footstep? Hark ! God bless you all ! Good-bye ! Doctor, please to give my musket and my knapsack, when I die, To my son — my son that's coming — he won't get here till I die j — F. Wilson. 3. " I hear you, sir, in the dark, but I'm a gropin — a gropin. Let me catch hold of your hand." — Dickens. 112 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. 4. " Here's the paper signed that frees you, Give a freeman's shout with me — 'God and Union ' be our watchword Evermore in Tennessee ! " 5. "And Barton, I wish you'd let the children come when I'm buried. They'll come, if you'll jest let 'em know. Always trust the children." H. W. Beecher. (See The Baron's Last Banquet, page 209.) CHAPTER VII. THE ART OF VOCAL EXPRESSION. After deducting action and attitude, about all that remains in reading and in speech, is the harmonizing of sound and sense. This harmony is secured through the modulations of the voice. DIVISIONS OF MODULATION. {Low. Middle. High. {Suppressed. Moderate. Great. f Slight. Moral Force. -J Moderate. I Much. r Slight. Volume. -I Ordinary. I Full. f Rate. Time J Quantity. (. Pause. {Deliberate. Moderate. Rapid. THE ART OF DELIVERY. 113 {Prolonged. Average. Brief. PansP / S y ntactical - ±-ause. | EhetoricaL {Upward. Downward. Combined. LOW PITCH. Sepulchral sentiments, sentiments of awe, supersti- tion, secrecy, grief, overwhelming fear, inexpressible contempt, etc., require low pitch. Exercises. 1. We turn the pages that they read, Their written words we linger o'er, But in the sun they cast no shade, No voice is heard, no sign is made, No step is on the conscious floor ! — Whittier. 2. And — when I am forgotten, as I shall be, and sleep in dull, cold marble, where no more mention of me must be made — say, I taught thee. Shakspere. 3. Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher. Vanity of vanities ; all is vanity. — Bible. 4. For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause ! — Shakspere. 5. O, the long and dreary winter ! O, the cold and cruel winter ! Ever thicker, thicker, thicker, Froze the ice on lake and river. — Longfellow. Conversational, unemotional, plain narration, ordin- ary description, and similar sentiments, demand medium pitch. Exercises in Middle Key. 1. There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth ; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty. — Bible. 8 114 TEN WEEKS IN" ELOCUTION. 2. The Sabbath day was ending in a village by the sea, The uttered benediction touched the people tenderly. And they rose to face the sunset in the glowing, lighted west, And then hastened to their dwellings for God's blessed boon of rest. — M. Farringham. 3. Whatever the lagging, dragging journey may have been to the rest of the emigrants, it was a wonder and delight to the chil- dren — a world of enchantment. Mark Twain. 4. On the first day of March it was, that Tommy Taft had been unquietly sleeping in the forenoon to make up for a disturbed night. — Beecher. 5. Listeners, will you please cast your minds over the following lines and see if you can find anything harmful in them : Conductor, when you receive a fare, Punch in the presence of the passenjare. A blue-trip slip for an eight-cent fare, A buff-trip slip for a six-cent fare, A pink-trip slip for a three-cent fare — Punch in the presence of the passenjare. — Mark Twain. (See The Literary Nightmare, page 235.) Sentiments of joy, spirituality, intense excitement, exaltation, calling, command, fright, rage, etc., should be given in high key. Exercises in High Key. 1. Hurrah ! Hurrah ! a single field hath turned the chance of war. Hurrah ! Hurrah ! for Ivry and King Henry of Navarre. — Macauhy. 2. Give thanks, for your son has saved our land, And God has saved his life ! — Phoebe Cary. 3. Were I Brutus, and Brutus Antony, There were an Antony would ruffle up Your spirits, and put a tongue in Every wound of Caesar, that should Move the stones of Koine, to rise and mutiny. THE ART OF DELIVERY. 115 4. ! you and I have heard our fathers say, There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd The eternal devil to keep his state in Eome, As easily as a king. — Shafapere. 5. " Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend ! " I shriek'd, upstarting — " Get thee back into the tempest and Night's Plutonian shore ! Leave no black plume as a token of that lir ; thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my loneliness unbroken — quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door ! " (For full selection, see "Battle of Ivry.") PHYSICAL FORCE — MORAL FORCE. The two may coincide. Many times they do not. There are those who, while putting forth prodigious physical effort, render themselves only ridiculous or disgusting, because they are wanting in moral power. Again, there are those who are almost faultless in their artistic methods, but lack a living, breathing, vivifying soul. They can not move or magnetize the hearer. Earnestness, honesty, fervor, can not prudently dis pense with art, learning, law, but were we driven to a choice we would say — give us the first named trinity. One may be earnest and honest, while at the same time he may be awkward and inefficient. A man may be honest and yet in error. Hence we would urge that all his warmth, and glow, and impetuosity, be put under the dominion of an in- telligent, educated spirit. For convenience, we will make the same illustrations serve both forms of force. Examples. f Great Moral Force. \ Subdued Physical Force. 1. How like a fawning publican he looks 1 I hate him, for he is a Christian, 116 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. But more for that, in low simplicity, He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. — Shakspere. j Full Physical Force. \ Slight Moral Force. 2. Let me play the fool : With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, And let my liver rather heat with wine Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. — Shakspere. f Full Physical Force. \ Full Moral Force. 3. The blood which you seek is not congealed by the artificial terrors which surround your victim ; it circulates warmly and un- ruffled through the channels which God created for noble purposes, but which you are bent to destroy for purposes so grievous that they cry out to heaven. — Robert Emmett. j Slight Physical Force. \ Slight Moral Force. 4. Love is merely a madness, and I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do ; and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too. — Shakspere's Rosalind. Physically, sentiments of majesty, dignity, heroism, dramatic fire, unbridled rage, stern command, shouting, calling aloud, etc., demand full force. The expression of intense passion, good or ill, demands much force. Moderation, in all its forms, would call for medium moral or physical force. Sentiments serene, reposeful, connected, trivial, play- ful, unemotional, would call for little physical force. Oppressiveness, exhaustion, the sepulchral, the super- stitious, the awe-inspiring, the secretive, the pathetic, etc., demand a subdued form of force VOLUME. The power to convince, or please, or persuade, is not always in proportion to the amount of noise that is made. There may be great volume with indistinct THE AET OF DELIVERY. 117 articulation, in which case the speaker aggravates this fault by his largeness of volume. There maybe great volume with little sense, when this volume serves only as a background upon which nonsense may stand out in bold relief. There are those who do not believe in law ; who make a great plea for unpruned effort ; who think that when the crisis comes — a great noise, backed by what they are pleased to style divine afflatus, will carry everything. This is the argument of in- dolence and ignorance. Of no other profession do they reason so foolishly. If an arm be broken, they do not send for the divine afflatus man, who has been idly awaiting a crisis. No, a man will be called who is educated in surgery. Do they go to sea, they want a pilot who has learned the road, and who knows how to handle the wheel. They will have no engineer who has not served a strict apprenticeship. The use of good language, in good rhetorical order, in good voice, with skilled delivery, is as much the outgrowth of training and education, as is the use of scalpel, or plane, or telescope. SLIGHT VOLUME. Exercises. 1. Ah, my boy, you're back again ; it's all right now. Don't you let me go wrong. I want you to tell me just where you're goin' and I'll bear right up for that port. — H. W. Beecher. 2. I hear it faintly ; louder yet ! What clogs my heavy breath ? Up, all ! and shout for Kudiger. Defiance unto death ! — A. G. Greene. 3. And den I jumped wiv my 'ittle jump-rope, An' I made out of some water an' soap Bootiful worlds, mamma's tastles of hope. — F. B. Smith. 4. "Jessie tired, mamma; good-night, papa; Jessie see you in the morning." 5. " I hear you, sir, in the dark, but I'm gropin' — a gropin' — let me catch hold of your hand." (For selection in full, containing slight volume, see " Death of Little Joe," page 100.) 118 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. MODERATE VOLUME. Exercises. 1. The cricket dwells in the cold, cold ground, At the foot of the old oak tree, And all through the lengthened autumn night A merry song sings he. — Anonymous. 2. And the name of this 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 — Oh ! we love them so — And there are trinkets and tresses of hair. —B. F. Taylor. 3. Near by that spring, upon an elm, you know, I cut your name, Your sweetheart's just beneath it, Tom, and you did mine the same; Some heartless wretch has peeled the bark, 'twas dying sure but slow, Just as she died, whose name you cut, some forty years ago. 4. To supper at last the farmer goes. The apples are pared, the paper read, The stories are told, then all to bed. Without, the cricket's ceaseless song Makes shrill the silence ali night long j The heavy dews are falling. —J. T. Trowbridge 5. 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. —J. T. Trowbridge (See Gray's Elegy, page 161.) FULL VOLUME. Exercises. 1. And rearing Lindis backward pressed,. Shook all her trembling banks amaine, Then madly at the eygre's breast, Flung up her weltering walls again. — Jean Ingeloir- THE ART OF DELIVERY. 119 2. And it lashed, and shook, and tore them, Till they thundered, groaned, and boomed, And, alas ! for any vessel In their yawning gulfs entombed. — M. Farmingham. 3. 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? — E. E. Edwards. 4. And the boy ! He has seen the danger, And, shouting a wild alarm, He forces back the weight of the sea With the strength of his single arm. — Phoebe Gary. 5. You do me honor over much ; you have given to the subal- tern all the credit of a superior. There are men engaged in this conspiracy who are not only superior to me, but even to your own conception of yourself, my Lord. — Robert Emmett. (See Apostrophe to the Ocean, page 98.) BATE. In reading and speaking, rate plays an important part. As there may be monotony of tone, and poverty of gesture, so there may be a lulling sameness of rate. A one-rate talk for a few minutes, acts as a powerful narcotic on the listener. We give life and warmth to utterance by the infinite variations of rate. Sentiments of great dignity, of majesty, of pomp- osity, of grandeur, of awe, of solemnity, of heroism, etc., demand deliberate rate. The sentiments before defined as occupying the middle ground, will likewise come under the head of moderate rate. Sentiments of an exciting, of a joyful, of a nervous nature — sentiments showing sudden change of scenery or action, etc., call for rapid delivery. DELIBERATE RATE. Exercises. 1 If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the con- cerns and cares of those who are dead to them in this transitory 120 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. life, O, ever dear and venerated shades of my departed father, look down with scrutiny upon the conduct of your suffering son. — Robert Emmett. 2. Henceforward, listen as we will, The voices of that hearth are still ; Look where we may, the wide earth o'er. Those lighted faces smile no more. — Whittier. 3. 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. — Longfellow. 4. All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow, All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing, All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience! And as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom, Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, " Father, I thank thee ? " — Longfellow. 5. To die, — to sleep; — To sleep ! — perchance to dream — aye, there's the rub ! For, in that sleep of death, what dreams may come. When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. — Shakspere. MODERATE RATE. Exercises. 1. But the singer feels it will better suit the ballad, If all should deem it right, To tell the story as if what it speaks of Had happened but last night. — F. Wilson. 2. Talk of something that's nobler than living, Of a love that is higher than mine, And faith which has planted its banner Where the heavenly camp-fires shine. — H. L. BostwicJ* 3. There's a Magical Isle up the river Time, Where the softest of airs are playing, There's a cloudless sky and tropical clime, And a song as sweet as a vesper chime, And the Junes with the roses are straying. — B. F. Taylor THE ART OF DELIVERY. 121 4. A -sought-e very where, young girl ; A-future-most fair, young girl ; An ever discreet, We too seldom meet, This-queen-among-queens, young girl. — Virgil A. Pinkley. 5. The heavens declare the glory of God ; and the firmament showeth his handiwork. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth knowledge. — Bible. RAPID RATE. Exercises. 1. She saw a gallant ship Aflame from deck to topmast, Aflame from stem to stern ; For there seemed no speck On all that wreck Where the fierce fire did not burn. 2. Quick, brightening like lightning, it bore me along, Down, down, till the gush of a torrent at play, In the rock of its wilderness caught me — and strong As the wings of an eagle it whirled me away. — Schiller. 3. See how fast you pass that point ! Up with the helm ! Now turn! Pull hard ! Quick! Quick! Quick! Pull for your lives ! Pull till the blood starts from your nostrils and the veins stand like whip-cords on your brow. — John B. Gough. 4. Morgan's men are coming, Frau ; They're galloping on this way. I'm sent to warn the neighbors. He isn't a mile behind ; He sweeps up all the horses — Every horse that he can find. Morgan, Morgan, the raider, And Morgan's terrible men, With bowie-knives and pistols, Are galloping up the glen. 122 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. 5. " For evil news from Meblethorpe, Of pyrate galleys warping downe ; For shippes ashore beyond the scorpe, They have not spared to wake the towne. But while the west bin red to see, And storms be none, and pyrates flee, Why ring ' The Brides of Enderby.' " — Jean Ingelow. Rate is the time in which a collection of words is read. QUANTITY. Quantity is time as applied to the utterance of a word or a part of a word. Words which, in themselves, signify continuity, prolongation, immensity, deliberation, gravity, pon- derosity, etc., would be dwelt upon, e. g. y boundless, invincible, infinite, eternal, everlasting, requiem, lin- gering, languishing. There are other words which, by their very nature, suggest quick quantity, e. g., quick, cut, snap, whip, whirl, jump, run. Words occupying the ground midway between these two extremes should be given moderate quantity. SLIDE. Upward Slide. Downward Slide. Negation. Weakness. Indefiniteness. Incompleteness. Doubtfulness. Positiveness. Completion. Determination. Emphasis. Keposefulness. Certainty. The Combined Slide, Wave or Circumflex. -\ Sarcasm. Irony. Contempt. Insinuation. Double dealing. Humor. Tantalization. THE ART OF DELIVERY. 123 Slide is the most generally abused element in the whole realm of elocution. It is of all the graces of oratory, the most spirituelle. After key, and force, and quantity, and rate have done all they can do, in steps slide and gives the finishing touch ; puts upon the entire effort the seal of certainty, and the listener remains no longer in doubt as to your meaning. PAUSE. A rhetorical pause is one made by the speaker. It is tongue punctuation. By it is made lucid what, otherwise, to the listener would remain meaningless. Rhetorical pauses appeal to the ear. A grammatical pause is one made by the writer or printer. It is pen punctuation. It decides the syntactical relationship of language. It appeals to the eye. CHAPTER Till. GESTUEE. Gesture is position or motion expressive of thought. Gesture is, to a large degree, anticipative. It should usually serve as a prelude to the voice. By it the listener should be informed of the nature of what is to follow. Thus a speaker may put his audience at the greatest ease, and himself in their highest favor. There are times when the nature of the sentiment demands that gesture shall accompany, and not precede. Again, the sentiments call on gesture to follow it. In the command, " Get thee behind me, Satan ! " a backward, repellant action of the hand should precede the delivery of the words. In this phrase, "On yonder jutting cliff," the action should accompany utterance, and the gesture should reach its culmination as the word " jutting" is reached. 124 TEN WEEKS IK ELOCUTION. To culminate sooner would be premature ; a later cul- mination would be inexcusable tardiness. After the deluge — what? After this question may quite properly come a gesture of interrogation in the face and attitude. {Preparation, Consummation, Return. In a series of gestures, there is, between prepara- tion and consummation, an impulse at the wrist. After the last consummation in a series comes the first return. As a rule, no discernable pause should be made be- tween the parts of gesture. Sometimes the preparation will carry the hand to a very little height; sometimes to a great height, and to all points between. " In the rippling Tennessee," would lift the hand but slightly, while the consummation would bear it a triHe lower in a wave-like movement. The return, in this case, would follow the sentence. "Lord Angus, thou hast lied," would bear the hand to the face in preparation. Strength, Determination, Emphasis, Anger, Peevishness, .. Impetuosity. f J °y> Gestures are made in curves to /-. e PP se ! denote: Contentment, brace, I Beauty, [ Veneration. Gestures, according to senti- ( Conversational, ment, are divided into ■ -J Oratoric, (_ Dramatic. Conversational Gestures call for a limited are&. of action, and should center at the elbow. Oratoric and Dramatic Gestures pass through a Gestures are made in straight lines to denote : THE ART OF DELIVERY. 125 broad field of movement, and should center at the shoulder. {Un impassioned, Impassioned, Highly Impassioned. 1 Passive, Active, Intensely Active, r Elbow, Pivot of Action. < Shoulder, (. Shoulder. Given — Conv. Sent, to find the other three. They are : 1. Elbow Action. 2. Unimp. Fac. Exp. 3. Passive Position. Let the instructor experiment with his pupils, until they can readily deduce the three unknown, as soon as the one is known. The only query which will puzzle is this — Given, Shoulder Action, to find the others. They can not tell whether the sentiment calling for such action is Ora- torio or Dramatic, until a second point be given. I will add another, and the pupil, or reader, may find the remaining points. The position required is active. {Upward, or Torrid. Middle, or Temperate. Downward, or Frigid. The light, The joyous, Upward Zone for -| The bright, The animated, The inspirational. Plain conversation, Plain narration, Middle Zone for \ ^^ mal lan S ua S e > Historic, UnornamentaL Determination, Emphasis, Affirmation, Treachery, Debasement, Degradation. Descending Zone for - 126 TEX WEEKS IN ELOCUTION". The ascending gesture is used for the location of all objects, real or imaginary, material or ethereal, lying above the middle plane. The middle gesture is used for the location of all objects, real or imaginary, located in the horizontal plane. The descending gesture is used for the location of all objects, real or imaginary, lying below the horizontal plane. To the realm of the imagination belong ascending gestures. To the realm of reason belong middle move- ments. To the realm of determination belong descend- ing gestures. Ascension of action for the spiritual. Horizontal action for the moral. Descending action for debase- ment. r Front, Directions are: ^leraf,' [ Olique— Backward. As a rule, emphasis carries action to the front. Slightly generalizing, would extend the movement obliquely. The greatest breadth is indicated by the full-arm, lateral movement. Remoteness, indistinct- ness, scorn, repulsion, distrust, are shown by the back- ward-oblique action. The gesture takes its name from its termination. If it ends at the side it is lateral. If it ends upward it is ascending. It may flourish never so much, but terminating in the middle plane it is a horizontal gesture. THE HEAD. The movements of the head should not be perpetual. THE EYE. (Concentric — inward, Normal, Eccentric — outward. THE ART OF DELIVERY. 127 THE LLPS. f Concave, Condition of < Normal, ( Convex. f Determination, Concave Lips. ^ er ' F j Agony, [ Physical pain. {Repose, Contentment, Passivity. {Pouting, Petulency, Disgust. THE FINGERS. f Rigid, Relaxed, Condition of. i Togetherj t Apart. ("Fright, Rigid in. -j Abhorrence, ( Repulsion. f Sorrow, Eelaxedin.n™^ [Resignation. f Fright, Anart in J Intensit 7> Apart nM Excitement, [ Delight. f Grief, Together in. j Companionship, & j Oppressiveness, [Resignation. THE HAND. f Open, M Clii Condition of. < Clinched, (. Index Finger. 128 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION, f Frankness, [ Generalization. {Anger, Defiance, Aggression, Emphasis. {Limitation, Specification, Particularization. {Supine, Prone, Vertical. f Plain reasoning, | Unornamented discourse. Supine in. ■{ Infinitude, I Generosity, [ Ordinary conversation. Prone in. - Death, Destruction, Burial, Limitation, Degradation, Super-position. {Attraction, Adoration, Kepulsion. THE ARM. {Localizing, Describing, Emphasizing. A single arm movement may combine all three, e. g. y " On yonder jutting cliff." By the direction of the in- dex-finger on the word "jutting" we locate the cliff. By the jutting of the finger, a description of the cliff is made. The strength of the gesture conveys emphasis. Any two of these purposes may be exemplified by a single gesture, e. g., " The ring-dove's notes were mingled THE ART OF DELIVERY. 129 with the rippling Tennessee." The extended arm will locate the river, and the vibratory action will illustrate the rippling of the waters. A single purpose may be served by a single gesture ; e. g., "See that horse." The index-finger in this case simply locates. Gestures are / Simple, vestures are | Compound . The examples above, belong to the class of Simple Gestures. An admirable illustration of the compound or Serial Gesture is the following: " 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, and I have thought of other lands, whose storms were 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," etc. ANALYSIS. On the word "jutting" the index-finger movement culminates; when the word "flat" is uttered the hand has opened and lies prone in the ascending plane. "And while gust" moves the hand from its position to the left and back to position, with a sweeping ac- tion. "Followed gust" calls for the last gesture em- phasized. "More furiously," a re-repetition, with ad- ditional emphasis. "As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink," with the right hand same movement as before, while the left joins it in its final forward sweep, the fingers of both hands somewhat curved and pendant, as though conscious of the peril beyond. "And I have thought of other lands," both hands brought to a lateral-supine position. "Whose storms are summer flaws," both hands prone, lifted horizontally and pushed forward and aside. "And just have wished me 9 130 TEN WEEKS IK ELOCUTION. there," a continuation of the last into a supine for- ward, longing movement of both hands. " The thought that mine was free," an ascending flight with both hands, climaxing in "free." "Has checked," both hands clinched and driven downward. "And I have raised my head" — at this point the hands return to rest for the first time since their initial movement. We have what is called flight of the voice. On such occasions, if gestures are demanded, they must keep exact pace with the vocal flight, and the two must culminate simultaneously. LOWER LIMBS. Eight foot advanced bearing the weight. Left " " " " " Eight " retired " " " Left " " " " " Both feet bearing the weight- Enthusiasm, The advanced foot bears the weight in \ Secrecv ' [ Persuasion. f Dignity, I Haughtiness, The retired foot bears the weight in «j Defiance, Independence, Eepulsion. {Eepose, Unemotional sentiments. SPECIAL, GESTURES. These come under no law and are intuitional. A few instances will suffice to call to mind a multitude. The stamping of the foot — the wringing of the hands — the shrugging of the shoulders — the winking of the eye — the tossing of the head. THE ART OF DELIVERY. 131 DELSARTE S SYSTEM OF GESTURE. Loud claims, made by a few instructors in the country, are heard running thus: "I teach the Del- sarte System of Gesture ; " " Prof. i So and So ' is the only teacher of the Delsarte System of Gesture." The probabilities are, that those who make such claims, know as little, and teach as little of the great Delsarte, as those who are valiant enough to have a system of gesture of their own, drawn from all available sources. Delsarte, like many who preceded, and many who shall follow, was of human origin, and could doubtless say, in common with us all, "to err is human." His "Art of Oratory" is a highly original work, and well worth more than a single perusal. After noting a few, at least seeming, contradictions in his work, we will make a condensed summary of his most valuable "System of Gesture." SEEMING ABSURDITIES. "If a friend promises me a service with his thumb drawn in, he deceives." "Consonants and vowels are gestures." " Force is always opposed to power." The man who was kicked by a mule, thinks this an exception to the above rule. " Mediocre speakers are always trying to enrich their inflections." "If you embrace me without elevating the should- ers, you are a Judas." He might have added : If you embrace me by elevating the shoulders, you are a Jew. " A cry is not a gesture." "A smile is a gesture." "Speech is inferior to gesture." "An audience must not be supposed to resemble an individual." " If we possess nine, we possess twenty millions, which are no more than nine." 132 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. "The shoulder, like all the agents, has three, hence nine distinct phases." " Haste is in inverse ratio to emotion." " Silence is the speech of God." So is noise. The thunder, no less than the dew-drop, speaks of God. " When a thing is true from one point of view, it is from all." " If a man's shoulders are raised very decidedly, we may know he is decidedly impressed." Perhaps, unless he's a Jew or a Frenchman. "The shoulder is one of the great powers of the orator." Yes, if he be Jew or French. " Liars do not elevate their shoulders to the required degree." How can they lie, then ? A Jew can raise his shoul- der to the required degree without lying, I suppose. Some of the foregoing statements, although startling and original, are entirely too broad; others are abso- lutely absurd. MIRACLES. " The movements of the eye are between eight and nine hundred." "There are eighty-one movements of the hand im- possible to the face." If one more should ever be discovered or added, it will disarrange Delsarte's — "three and multiples of three" — foundation for everything in oratory. "The head and hand can not act simultaneously to express the same sentiment." " Movement must begin with the face." The infant is master of "four million inflections ere he can speak or gesticulate." The author had, perhaps been walking the floor the night before with a "colicky" babe. " There are precisely four million movements of the different agents of the arm." Although he uses the word precisely, one gesture, more or less, would not materially affect the estimate. THE ART OF DELIVERY. 133 CONTRADICTIONS. { "But one gesture is needed for the expression *" of an entire thought." " When.there are two gestures in the same idea, one of them must come before the proposition ; the other in its midst." "Gesture must always precede speech." 1 "The other gesture in its midst." J "Men of small brain habitually carry their ^ heads high." I "Soldiers and men of robust physique carry | ^their heads high." J ( "A demonstration of affection is not made with 1 < a forward movement." V ( "The hand extends toward the beloved object." J SYNOPSIS OF DELSARTE ON GESTURE. Man says what he feels by inflection, what he loves by gesture, what he thinks by words. Gesture must be studied. Gesture has brought joy to thousands of deaf mutes. Gesture is the direct agent of the heart, the inter- preter of speech. Gestrue and inflection should har- monize. Sound is gesture of the larynx. Consonants and vowels are gestures of the mouth. Gestures are the product of the myological apparatus. Gestures, not ideas, move the masses. Gesture is magnetic; speech is not. Gesture is anticipative; it makes lis- tening easy. Gesture suggests; speech confirms. The sense is not in the words, it is in the inflection and gesture. When one speaks to others he advances; when to himself he recedes. f Contemplation, j Soliloquy, Eetroaction iD -j Distrust, Fear, Disgust. 134 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. C Aggressiveness, a j , . Anticipation, Advancement in ■{ c i , i- ' Salutation, l_ Inquisitiveness. In portraying sentiment, to carry the hand to the heart is oratorical crime. Imitative Gesture is divided into < Dynamic, ( Semiotic. r Static, The Static treats of Laws of Gesture Priority, Retroaction, Opposition of Forces, Unity, Stability, _ Eythm. Opposition of Forces for Equilibrium. The man of intellect gestures with the head. The man of soul gestures with the shoulders. The man of vital temperament gestures with hid arms. Gesture should be so easy and truthful as to attract no attention. The suspension or prolongation of a movement is one of the great sources of effect. One effect must not counteract another. Without knowledge of law incoherence is inevitable, hence rules are indispensable. When the principles are known, each one must apply them in accordance with his own idea. There is no freedom outside of law. Without law we could learn only by imitation. {Head, Torso, Limbs. {Concentric, Normal, Eccentric. f Resignation, Doubt ' [Shame. THE ART OF DELIVERY. 135 {Kepose, Contentment, Equilibrium. C Interrogation, Hope, Eccentric Head, desire, ence> Defiance, [ Exaltation. {Vision, Pupil, Eye-brow. {Concentric, Normal, Eccentric. ision, ion, C Kepulsi Concentric, or lowered inj ^rrassment, [ Soliloquy. {Contentment, Candor, Innocency, Generosity. {Surprise, Exaltation, Interrogation. {Concave, Upright, Convex. {Chastity, Guilelessness, Timidity. {Honesty, Faith, Directness. f Sensualism, Convex or Eccentric Face. \ boldness, Ambitiousness, [ Self-sufficiency. 136 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. {Genal, Buccal, Frontal. ? Vital Temperament, Agility, L Vim. {Morality, Temperateness, Equipoise. {Intellectual, Logfcal^ Mental. {Thoracic, Epigastric, Abdominal. Thoracic Belt {%££*°* Epigastric Belt. {%$£* Abdominal Belt. {££^1 {Concentric, Normal, Eccentric. (* Grief, Concentric, or Collapsed Chest. •] Fright, ( Secrecy. {Conversational, Unemotional, Eeposeful. C Energy, Eccentric, or Inflated Chest. \ £°™™™ d ' [Defiance. The eccentric or convex chest is the sign of one who gives. THE ART OF DELIVERY. 137 The concentric or concave chest is the sign of one who receives. f Fingers, | Hand, | Wrist, Movements of the Arm are : -{ Elbow, Fore-arm, Shoulder, Full-arm. {Concentric, Normal, Eccentric. The wrist is concentric when the extensor muscles are in action. The wrist is normal when at rest. The wrist is eccentric when the flexor muscles are in action. {Dorsal aspect, Palmer aspect, Digital aspect. {Innocence, Respect, Repose. {Reflection, Concentration Independence 3. Weight upon the advanced J q .. c ' f00t I Secrecy.' f Exhaustion, Opposition, Stability. c -c , ,, , f Timidity, 5. Feet parallel. ] Inexper ^ nce . Position of Lower Limbs. 6. One foot behind the other. { g^S Gesture is the melody of the eye. Inflection is the melody of the ear. Speech is the crown of oratorical action. Speech elucidates and justifies gesture. The face first suggests. Gesture confirms the face. Speech clinches both. P. S. While this synopsis is founded on the system 138 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. of Delsarte, the arrangement of the material is mine, and the writer has taken the liberty to make many ad- ditions. For selections on which to drill in Gesture, see " Speech of Cassius," " Hamlet's Soliloquy," « On the Shores of Tennessee," and " The Battle of Ivry." A FEW REFLECTIONS. With these the writer closes the chapter and this di- vision of the work. The grandest gift of God to man is — voice. The voice in speech is power, than which there is none other so potent. At the summit of human achievement towers eloquence. The king of arts is Oratory. Would you convince the judgment, control the conscience, guide the heart — the voice is the royal road thereto. TO MINISTERS. To the eye his manner appeals. To the ear his voice appeals. The eye and the ear are the outposts to the riches of the spiritual world within. How important, then, that clergymen should give at- tention to speech and action. No man has any moral right to inflict upon an au- dience a ragged, jagged, diluted voice. No leader of the people can righteously neglect his pronunciation, or articulation, or grammatical construction, or rhe- torical arrangement. Emotion, sympathy, sincerety, soul— better to have these and lack the art, than to possess the highest art and be deficient in these. Far better yet, to combine them all. Europe has her culture, her refinement, her schools of elocution and dramatic art. America will not fail to put herself abreast the times. THE AET OF DELIVERY. 139 TO LAWYERS. This is a practical age. One of the first questions is, " Will it pay?" In the legal profession, the art of Delivery carries with it so great and patent a money value that 'twere idle to discuss the question. The houses of Congress know this, and her leading mem- bers act accordingly. Prominent lawyers in every large city know this, and their success is largely due to their attention to details of delivery. The country at large is rapidly realizing the same fact, and the demand for master instructors in the art is growing great. Salesmen are learning this, and the increased skill with which they handle their wares is the sequel. Auctioneers have learned the same and thrive, phys- ically and financially, therefrom. Boole and Beecher, of Brooklyn; Blaine, of Maine, and our orators of greatest power, the country over, are not so much the possessors of supernatural gifts, as they are men endowed with the genius of industry and modesty that makes them learners. With no exception, they have given careful attention to the " little things" that constitute the cultured speaker. Good ground and good seed, are not enough to grow a bountiful harvest. The manner of its sowing is of no little moment. Drop the grain in a heap, and it smoth- ers out its own life, through the richness of its profu- sion. Profound knowledge is of little worth, except as it may be made communicable to others. SOME OBJECTIONS THAT ARE OFFERED. "I have a weak throat which is in constant irrita- tion," says one. Then, I would say, quit congesting the throat and put the labor of speech on the body muscle. Rest is the great restorative. The throat will thus get well. 140 TEN WEEKS IX ELOCUTION. "I am troubled with my lungs/' says another. Whisper in his ear this fact — there is no relief so sure as through deep inspiration of pure air and right use of the voice in singing and in speech. Does he tell you he is timid? Tell him he is fortu- nate. Timidity, impetuosity, imagination, soul, are the four corner stones of successful speech. When they are put under the dominion of an intelligent spirit they are irresistible. If he tells you he can not afford it, tell him he can not afford to neglect it. It pays to prepare for broader usefulness. Every dollar so expended is a seed dropped into good ground that will bear an hundred-fold. Are you told that it is a gift of nature, and is pres- ent at birth ? Nature presents us at birth with an av- erage of less than eight pounds avoirdupois, and a brain almost blank. From that moment all is acquisition. Inclination, adaptation, may be a God-given inherit- ance, but what we shall grow to, or become, is a prob- lem left for each one to solve for himself. We may be born with capacity, but not with con- tents. Hence the need of training and of culture; of imitation of the good, and not the bad. Does he ex- claim, "Be natural." If he means be correct, be God- like, — we subscribe. If he means be natural in the sense in which Indians, swine, knots on a tree, ex- crescences on the body, are natural, — we object. If he means a naturalness that is the outgrowth of ignorance and indolence, we object. Native simplicity is a charming quality, when based on right. Natural- ness, in its higher sense, is something to be sought, and, when found in accord with law, its unconsciousness stamps upon it the highest type of naturalness. He deceives himself who thinks he may daily drawl his words; speak unseemly English; outrage diction, pro- nunciation, articulation ; live in ignorance of dignified THE ART OF DE-LIVE Y. 141 ot^ graceful action, and, then, when the crises come, be able to do all things well under present pressure. Do these things right, habitually, and, in the heat of im- passioned speech, they will unconsciously take care of themselves. He, only, who does this, can afford to become self- forgetful. The infant learns to walk after many falls and squalls. A man with empty hands may fail to lift a weight ; with a lever the thing may be easily done. The voice is the weight to be lifted ; but with a strained, congested throat, and idle waist, if lifted at all, it is with dire dis- tress. Given ; — a leverage on the muscles of the waist, and the work is done with ease and grace. Ninety-nine of every hundred will analyze more cor- rectly than they can execute. The intellect says, " that passage should be read in low key." Voice says "cant." Elocutionary training cuts off the u t," and "can" remains. This gives us a glimpse of the value of vocal culture. There are those who say, "We will read some work on elocution and save tuition!" One might read all that has ever been written on swimming, and thereafter drown on the first exposure to water. Instruction from the lips of the living, is essential to the understanding and right application of what is found in the books. There are a multitude of little defects, of which we should never become conscious, save through the candid criticism of some one who is employed to observe and make them known. If an inferior or a peer should observe, and volun- tarilly tell us of them, we would repel or reproach them for their hardihood. It requires all our grace, to accept them at the hands of an acknowledged leader. Hoping that, through what has been written, many may add to their physical, mental, moral, and spiritual store, the writer modestly subscribes himself. Virgil A. Pinkley. Cincinnati, 0., Nov. 2< PART V. SELECTIONS OF PROSE AND POETRY. FOETY YEAES AGO. I've wandered to the village, Tom, I've sat beneath the tree, Upon the school-house playing-ground, That sheltered you and me; But none were left to greet me, Tom, And few were left to know, Who played with us upon the green Just forty years ago. The grass was just as green, Tom, Barefooted boys at play, Were sporting. just as we did then, With spirits just as gay. But master sleeps upon the hill, Which, coated o'er with snow, Afforded us a sliding-place Some forty years ago. The old school-house is altered some, The benches are replaced By new ones, very like the same Our jack-knives had defaced; But the same old bricks are in the wall, And the bell swings to and fro, Its music's just the same, dear Tom, 'Twas forty years ago. The boys were playing some old games Beneath that same old tree; I do forget the name just now — You've played the same with me (143) 144 TEN WEEKS IN" ELOCUTION. On that same spot ; 'twas played with knives By throwing so and so; The loser had a task to do There forty years ago. The river's running just as still, The willows on its side Are larger than they were, Tom ; The stream appears less wide; But the grapevine swing is missing now, Where once we played the beau, And swung our sweethearts — pretty girls — ■ Just forty years ago. The spring that bubbled 'neath the hill, Close by the spreading beach, Is very low ; 'twas once so high That we could scarcely reach ; And kneeling down to take a drink, Dear Tom, I started so, To think how very much I've changed Since forty years ago. Near by the spring upon an elm, You know I cut your name, Your sweatheart's just beneath it, Tom, And you did mine the same. Some heartless wretch had peeled the bark; 'Twas dying sure but slow, Just as she died whose name you cut There forty years ago. My lids have long been dry, Tom, But tears came in my eyes ; I thought of her I loved so well, Those earthly broken ties. I visited the old church-yard, And took some flowers to strew Upon the graves of those we loved Just forty years ago. Some are in the church-yard laid, Some sleep beneath the sea; But none are left of our old class Excepting you and me. And when our time shall come, Tom, And we are called to go, I hope we'll meet with those we loved Some forty years ago. SELECTIONS. 145 ANNABEL LEE. It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived, whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee ; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love, and be loved by me. I was a child, and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee — With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee ; So that her high-born kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me, Yes! that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we — Of many far wiser than we ; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee, And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so all the night-time, I lie down by the side Of my darling — my darling — my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea. — Edgar A. Poe. 10 146 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. IF WE KNEW. If we knew the woe and heartache Waiting for us down the road, If our lips could taste the wormwood, If our backs could feel the load ; Would we waste the day in wishing For a time that ne'er can be ? Would we wait with such impatience For our ship to come from sea? If we knew the baby fingers Pressed against the window pane, Would be cold and stiff to-morrow, Never trouble us again ; Would the bright eyes of our darling Catch the frown upon our brow? Would the print of rosy fingers Vex us then as they do now? Ah, these little ice-cold fingers ! How they point our memories back To the hasty words and actions Strewn along our backward track' How these little hands remind us, As in snowy grace they lie, Not to scatter thorns, but roses, For our reaping by and by. Strange we never prize the music Till the sweet-voiced bird has flown ; Strange that we should slight the violets ' Till the lovely flowers are gone ; Strange that summer skies and sunshine Never seem one-half so fair, As when winter's snowy pinions Shake their white down in the air. Let us gather up the sunbeams, Lying all around our path; Let us keep the wheat and roses, Casting out the thorns and chaff; Let us find our sweetest comfort In the blessings of to-day ; With the patient hand removing All the briars from our way. — Anon. SELECTIONS. 147 EOCK OF AGES. u Rock of ages cleft for me," Thoughtlessly the maiden sung ; Fell the words unconsciously From the girlish, gleeful tongue; Sang as little children sing; Sang as sing the birds of June; Fell the words as light leaves down On the current of the tune. " Rock of ages cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee." " 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 storm 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 its flow, Sang as only they can sing Who life's thorny path have pressed, Sang as only they can sing Who behold the promised rest, " Rock of age« cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee." "Rock of ages cleft for me," Sung above a coffin lid; Underneath all restfully, All life's joys and sorrows hid ; Nevermore, O, storm-tossed soul ! Nevermore from wind or tide, Nevermore from billows roll Wilt thou need thyself to hide. Could the sightless sunken eyes, Closed beneath the soft gray hair, 148 TEX WEEKS IK ELOCUTION. Could the mute and stiffened lips Move again in pleading prayer? Still, aye, still, the words would be, " Let me hide myself in Thee. — Anm. ABOU BEN-ADHEM. Abou Ben-Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel, writing in a book of gold, Exceeding peace has made Ben-Adhem bold; And to the presence in the room he said, " What writest thou ? " The vision raised its head, And with a look made all of sweet accord, Answered, " The names of those who love the Lord." "And is mine one? "said Abou. "Nay, not so," Answered the angel. Abou spake more low, But cheerily still, and said, " I pray thee, then, Write me as one who loves his fellow-men." The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night It came again, with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, And lo ! Ben-Adhem's name led all the rest. — Leigh Hunt. AN INTEEESTING TEAVELING COMPANION. Many men think a railroad journey is rendered re- ally pleasant by the companionship of an unprotected female. She insisted on counting her bandbox aud traveling bag as we got seated. She counted. There were just two. I counted and made no more nor less. Then she wanted her parasol put into the rack, her shawl folded up, and her bandbox counted again. I counted it. There was just exactly one bandbox of it. As we got started she wanted to know if I was sure that we were on the right road to Detroit. I was sure. Then she wanted her traveling bag counted. I counted it once more. By this time she wanted the window up, SELECTIONS. 149 and asked me if it was not a very hot day. I said it was. Then she felt for her money and found it was safe, though she was sure she had lost it. While count- ing it she related how Mrs. Graff, in going East five years ago, lost her purse and three dollars. She wound up the story by asking me if it wasn't a hot day. I said it was. Then she wanted that bandbox counted, and I counted him. He was still one bandbox. There was a pause of five minutes, and then she wanted a drink. I got it for her. Then she wanted to know if we were on the right road to Detroit. I assured her that I was positive of the fact. The brakeman here called out the name of a station in such an indistinct manner that the lady wanted me to go and see what the name really was. I went. It was Calumet. She wanted to know if I was sure that it was Calumet, and I put my hand on mysacred heart and assured her that I would perish sooner than deceive her. By this time she wanted her traveling bag counted, and I counted her. She figured up as before. I had just finished counting when she wanted to know if I didn't think it was a hot day. I told her I did. We got along very well for the next half hour, as I got her to narrating a story about how she got lost in the woods eighteen years before, but as soon as she finished it she wauted to know if I was sure we were on the right road to Detroit. I told her I hoped to perish with the liars if we were not, and she was satisfied. Then the parasol fell down; she wanted me to change a ten- cent-piece, and the window had to go down. When we got down to Marshall she wanted to know if the place wasn't named after court-martial, and whether it wasn't barely possible that the station was Niles, in- stead of Marshall. The bandbox was counted again, and he was just one. Then the window went up, and she asked me if, in my opinion, it wasn't a hot day. I replied that it was. Then she related a story about her uncle, another about a young lady who had been 150 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. deaf several years. During that day I counted that bandbox three hundred times, raised the window thirty times, said it was a hot day until my tongue was blis- tered, arranged that parasol thirty-two times, got her sixteen drinks of water, and inquired the names of thirteen stations. She said it was so nice to have a man in whom a stranger could place confidence, and I dared not reply, for fear of bringing out another story. When we reached Detroit, I counted the things three times over, and helped her off the cars, got her a hack, directed her to a hotel, told her the street, price, name of the landlord, head waiter, porter and cook ; assured her that she would not be robbed or murdered; that it had been a hot day ; that Detroit had a population of one hundred thousand ; that the fall term of school had commenced ; that all Detroit hack-drivers were honest and obliging. Poor woman, I hope the land- lord did not get out of patience with her artless ways. — M Quad. THE BUGLE SONG. The splendor falls on castle walls, And snowy summits old in story; The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow ; set the wild echoes flying ; Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. Oh hark, oh hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going; Oh ! sweet and far, from cliff and scar, The horns of Elfland faintly blowing. Blow; let us hear the purple glens replying; Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. Oh ! love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill, on field, on river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow; set the wild echoes flying; And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. — Alfred Tennyson* SELECTIONS. 151 THE PILOT. John Maynard was well known in the lake district as a God-fearing, honest and intelligent pilot. He was pilot on a steamboat from Detroit to Buffalo. One summer afternoon — at that time these steamers seldom carried boats — smoke was seen ascending from below and the captain called out : " Simpson, go below and see what the matter is down there." Simpson came up with his face as pale as ashes, and said, " Captain, the ship is on fire." Then " Fire ! fire ! fire ! " on shipboard. All hands were called up. Buckets of water were dashed on the fire, but in vain. There were large quan- tities of rosin and tar on board, and it was found useless to attempt to save the ship. The passengers rushed forward and inquired of the pilot: "How far are we from Buffalo?" " Seven miles." " How long before we can reach there ? " "Three-quarters of an hour at our present rate of steam." " Is there any danger ? " " Danger here — see the smoke bursting out — go for- ward if you would save your lives." Passengers and crew — men, women and children — crowded the forward part of the ship. John Maynard stood at the helm. The flames burst forth in a sheet of fire ; clouds of smoke arose. The captain cried out through his trumpet : " John Maynard ! " " Aye, aye, sir ! " "Are you at the helm?" " Aye, aye, sir ! " " How does she head?" " Southeast by east, sir." 152 TEX WEEKS IN 3<:LOCUTION". " Head her southeast and run her on shore," said the captain. Nearer, nearer, yet nearer, she approached the shore. Again the captain cried out: " John Maynard ! " The response came feebly this time, "Aye, aye, sir ! " a Can you hold on five minutes longer, John?" he Raid. "By God's help, I will." The old man's hair was scorched from the scalp, one hand disabled ; his knee upon the stanchion, and his teeth set, with his other hand upon the wheel, he stood firm as a rock. He beached the ship ; every man, wo- man and child was saved, as John Maynard dropped and his spirit took its flight to its God. — John B. Gough. MARK TWAIN AND THE INTERVIEWER. The nervous, dapper, "peart" young man took the chair I offered him, and said he was connected with "The Daily Thunderstorm," and added: " Hoping it's no harm, I've come to interview you." "Come to what?" " Interview you." "Ah ! I see. Yes — yes. Urn ! Yes — yes." I was not feeling bright that morning. Indeed, my powers seemed a bit under a cloud. However, I went to the bookcase, and, when I had been looking six or seven minutes, I found I was obliged to refer to the young man. I said, — " How do you spell it?" "Spell what?" " Interview." " Oh, my goodness ! What do you want to spell it for?" " I don't want to spell it ; I want to see what it SELECTIONS. 153 u Well, this is astonishing, I must say. / can tell you what it means, if you — if you" — " Oh, all right ! That will answer, and much obliged to you, too." " I n, in, t e r, ter, inter" — " Then you spell it with an If" " Why, certainly ! " "Oh, that is what took me so long!" " Why, my dear sir, what did you propose to spell it with?" »*r. Ah! we've had many horses, but never a horse like her! — Constance Fenimore Woolson. PARRHASIUS. Parrhasius stood, gazing forgetfully Upon his canvas. There Prometheus lay, Chained to the cold rocks of Mount Caucasus, The vultures at his vitals, and the links Of the lame Lemnian festering in his flesh; And, as the painter's mind felt through the dim, Rapt mystery, and plucked the shadows wild Forth witli his reaching fancy, and with form And color clad them, his fine, earnest eye Flashed with a passionate fire, and the quick curl Of his thin nostril, and his quivering lip, Were like the winged god's breathing from his flight. SELECTIONS. 199 "Bring me the captive now ! My hand feels skillful, and the shadows lift From my waked spirit airily and swift ; And I could paint the bow Upon the bended heavens; around me play Colors of such divinity to-day. " Ha ! bind him on his back ! Look ! as Prometheus in my picture here ! Quick ! or he faints ! stand with the cordial near ! Now, bend him to the rack ! Press down the poisoned links into his flesh ! And tear agape that healing wound afresh ! " So ! let him writhe ! How long Will he live thus? Quick, my good pencil, now! What a fine agony works upon his brow ! Ha ! gray-haired, and so strong ! How fearfully he stifles that short moan ! Gods ! if I could but paint a dying groan ! "'Pity 'thee? Soldo; I pity the dumb victim at the altar; But does the robed priest for his pity falter? I'd rack thee, though I knew A thousand lives were perishing in thine ; What were ten thousand to a fame like mine? "Ah! there's a deathless name! A spirit that the smothering vault shall spurn, And, like a steadfast planet, mount and burn; And though its crown of flame Consumed my brain to ashes as it won me, By all the fiery stars! I'd pluck it on me! "Ay, though it bid me rifle My heart's last fount for its insatiate thirst; Though every life-strung nerve be maddened first ; Though it should bid me stifle The yearning in my throat for my sweet child, And taunt its mother till my brain went wild. "All ! I would do it all, Sooner than die, like a dull worm, to rot ; Thrust foully in the earth to be forgot. O heavens ! but I appall Your heart, old man ! forgive — ha! on your lives Let him not faint ! rack him till he revives ! 200 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. " Vain — vain — give o'er. His eye Glazes apace. He does not feel you now. Stand back ! I'll paint the death-dew on his brow ! Gods ! if he do not die But for one moment — one — till I eclipse Conception with the scorn of those calm lips ! "Shivering! Hark! he mutters Brokenly now ; that was a difficult breath ; Another? Wilt thou never come, O Death? Look ! how his temple flutters ! Is his heart still? Aha ! lift up his head ! He shudders — gasps — Jove help him — so, he's dead ! " How like a mountain devil in the heart Kules this unreined ambition ! Let it once But play the monarch, and its haughty brow Glows with a beauty that bewilders thought And unthrones peace forever. Putting on The very pomp of Lucifer, it turns The heart to ashes, and with not a spring Left in the desert for the spirit's lip, We look upon our splendor, and forget The thirst of which we perish ! — Willis. BOTANY. Violets, sweet violets, I love you as I love my pets. Let me see, — One, two, three, Four, five, — ever five leaves ; Always the same — never deceives. What care I for your family? What did you say? Botany ? Fling it in Botany Bay. Daisies, daisies, Scattered in endless mazes Over the meadows, under the hedges, Not in the path, but close to its edges ; As stars gem the blue of the sky with their sheen, Ye gem and besprinkle the velvety green. What care I for your pedigree? Pistils or stamens, how many there be ! What did you say? Botany ? Fling it in Botany Bay. SELECTIONS. 201 Buttercup! Hey, johnny-jump-up! Johnny will tell if I pull you apart — If I pick you to pieces and tear out your heart. Johnny will tell, I know him well, So keep your heart in its golden bell. What care I how rich it be ! I love you, and that is enough for me. What did you say? Botany? Fling it in Botany Bay. Forget-me-not! I love the spot Where grows the fairy forget-me-not. How like to a star Its pale blossoms are! And its bonny bright eyes I Jove to see, W T hat care I how many they be ? What did vou say? Botany ? Fling it in Botany Bay. Mignonette ! I'll never forget Thy fragrance, it lingers about me yet. Delicate blossom, Best on my bosom ; Shed a sweet incense, when dying, o'er me, When no longer thy fairy-like blossoms I'll see. What did you say? Botany ? Fling it in Botany Bay. Lily so fair! Purity's there, You have beautiful raiment and never a care. Oh, would I might be So lovely as thee, And have never a thought about " nothing to wear!" Fd belong to your "tribe," whatever it be. What did you say ? Botany? Fling it in Botany Bay. Cowslips ! Dewy lips ! Thy name recalls bright childhood scenes ; For thy blossoms I look, In the mead by the brook, 202 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCT T TION. Through the vista of time that intervenes; Again I chase the winged hours And gather thy yellow unfolding flowers, Golden boats all afloat on a green leafy sea. What did you say ? Botany? Fling it in Botany Bay. Bluebells, bluebells, What have you hid in your airy cells? Azure of heaven, Dewdrops of even — Whisper, bluebells, whisper to me; I only know how fair you be, Without a thought of your family. What did you say? Botany? Fling it in Botany Bay. Fair budding rose, I may not close Without a tribute in verse to thee. " First love ! " May it prove Source of joy like flowers to me, Whatever their names or their family. What did you say? Botany ? Fling it in Botany Bay. Orange blossom ! Adorning the bosom, Or twined in the curl of a fair lady's hair; Ah, sometimes you be But a mockery ; Her lips may be false, though her brow seem so fair, Then so many heart-aches you blossoms are. Joy, trouble, or care is your progeny — A various, wonderful family. What did you say? Botany? Fling it in Botany Bay. Pansies are fraught With beautiful thought ; Bright thought and golden, and brilliant in hue; Give me the blue one, that is the true one. I'll have nothing to do — Pansy, would you — SELECTIONS. 203 With " genus," or " classes," or " family." You bring a thought, a dear thought to me. A thought, did I say? For my botany ? No, fling it in Botany Bay. Poppy — nepenthe — Tell me who sent thee, To lull me to sleep o'er my botany? So drowsy am I — I can not tell why — Nor how — many — stamens — or — poppies I see; When I wake I'll remember how many there be ; What did you say? Botany? Go fling it in Botany Bay. PAKADISE AND THE PEEL One morn a Peri at the gate Of Eden stood, disconsolate ; And as she listened to the Springs Of Life within, like music flowing, And caught the light upon her wings, Through the half-opened portal glowing, She wept to think her recreant race Should e'er have lost that glorious place ! " How happy," exclaimed this child of air, " Are the holy Spirits who wander there 'Mid flowers that shall never fade and fall ; Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, And the stars themselves have flowers for me, One blossom of heaven outblooms them all ! " Though sunny the lake of cool Cashmere, With its plane-tree isle reflected clear, And sweetly the founts of that valley fall; Though bright are the waters of Sing-su-hay, And the golden floods that thitherward stray; Yet — oh ! 'tis only the blest can say How the waters of heaven outshine them all!" li Go, — wing your flight from star to star, From world to luminous world, as far As the universe spreads its flaming wall, Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless years, One minute of heaven is worth them all ! " 204 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. The glorious Angel who was keeping The gates of Light, beheld her weeping ; And, as he nearer drew and listened To her sad song, a tear-drop glistened Within his eyelids like the spray From Eden's fountain, when it lies On the blue flower, which — Brahmins say—' Blooms nowhere but in Paradise. " Nymph of a fair but erring line ! " Gently he said — " One hope is thine. 'Tis written in the book of fate The Peri may yet be forgiven Who brings to this eternal gate The gift that is most dear to Heaven! Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin, 'Tis sweet to let the Pardoned in." Rapidly as comets run To the embraces of the sun, Fleeter than the starry brands Flung at night from angel hands, At those dark and daring sprites Who would climb th' empyreal heights, Down the blue vault the Peri flies And, lighted earthward by a glance That just then broke from Morning's eyes, Hung hovering o'er the world's expanse. But whither shall the Spirit go To find this gift from Heaven ? "I know The wealth " she cries, " of every urn In which unnumbered rubies burn, Beneath the pillars of Chilminar: I know where the Isles of Perfume are, Many a fathom down in the sea To the south of sun-bright Araby ; I know, too, where the Genii hid The jewel'd cup of their King Jamshid, With Life's elixir sparkling high : But gifts like these are not for the sky. Where was there ever a gem that shone Like the steps of Alla's wonderful Throne? And the Drops of Life— oh ! what would they be, In the boundless deep of Eternity?" While thus she mused, her pinions fann'd The airs of the sweet Indian land, Whose air is balm, whose ocean spreads O'er coral rocks and amber beds ; SELECTIONS. 205 Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice Might be a Peri's Paradise ! But crimson now her rivers ran With human blood ; the smell of death Came reeking from tho3e spicy bowers ; And man — the sacrifice of man — Mingled his taint with every breath Unwafted from the innocent flowers. Land of the Sun ! What foot invades Thy pagods and thy pillared shades — The cavern shrines, and idol stones, Thy monarchs and their thousand thrones? 'Tis he of Gazna— fierce in wrath He comes, and India's diadems Lie scattered in his ruinous path. His bloodhounds he adorns with gems Torn from the violated necks Of many a young and loved Sultana ; Maidens, within their pure Zenana; Priests, in the very fane he slaughters, And chokes up with the glittering wrecks Of golden shrines the sacred waters! Downward the Peri turns her gaze, And through the war-field's bloody haze Beholds a youthful warrior stand Alone, beside his native river, The red blade broken in his hand, And the last arrow in his quiver. " Live," said the Conqueror ; " live to share The trophies and the crowns I bear!" Silent that youthful warrior stood ; Silent he pointed to the flood, All crimson with his country's blood, Then sent his last remaining dart, For answer, to the Invader's heart. False flew the shaft, though pointed well ; The Tyrant lived, the Hero fell ! Yet marked the Peri where he lay; And when the rush of wars was past, Swiftly descending on a ray Of morning light, she caught the last, Last glorious drop his heart had shed Before its free-born spirit fled ! " Be this," she cried, and winged her flight, " My welcome gift at the Gates of Light. 206 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Though foul are the drops that oft distill On the field of warfare, blood like this For liberty shed, so holy is It would not stain the purest rill That sparkles among the Bowers of Bliss ! Oh ! if there be on this earthly sphere A boon, an offering heaven holds dear, 'Tis the last libation Liberty draws From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause 1 n " Sweet," said the Angel, as she gave The gift into his radiant hand, " Sweet is our welcome of the brave Who die thus for their native land ; But see, alas ! the crystal bar Of Eden moves not ; holier far Than even this drop the boon must be That opes the gates of heaven for thee ! " — Moore. BANGS. To have bangs or not to have bangs, that's the ques- tion. Whether it is better to suffer the outrageous bangs or take up arms against the sea of troubles and end them, is a serious consideration. You may take a pious Christian girl, bang her hair, and she will do some hideous deviltry in nine hours. The girl is no more responsible for her meanness than is any other lunatic. She can't help it. Bangs completely derange the little sinner and are the sole cause of her impudence. Samp- son's strength lay in his hair. A girl's deviltry is in her bangs ; they change the whole nature of her and lead her whithersoever they will. Dislodge the bangs and the girl will return to the path of rectitude. The longer the bangs the meaner the possessor, and the — uglier. Some of us boys once put a board over the face of the gentlest cow on the farm, a cow that had a wide reputation for order, sobriety aud quietude. In an hour that cow was tearing through the fences like a tor- nado, shook her head at everything and seemed to say : SELECTIONS. 207 "Look out for me, I'll hook." So with the girl. Bangs give her an unruly look. She looks like she would hook. You are afraid that she will run at you. Were I compelled to fight a duel with a mad cow or a banged girl, I would take my chances with the cow. Girls wear bangs to attract attention from their ugly faces. Pretty girls do not wear bangs. A Chinaman is pretty by the side of a Hottentot. An ugly face under bangs is not noticed. A girl with bangs looks like tangled sunbeams in a bewildered forest. My dear girls, if you must wear bangs, don't you do it. If it will just kill you not to wear bangs, then die a martyr. You will makt a prettier corpse than a live girl. You will fill a more useful place in the grave than you fill in life. You could not die in a nobler cause. The girl with bangs is constantly doing hateful things that a sleek-haired girl, or a girl w r ith frizzes even, would not think of doing. She may belong to the church, but she is not a Christian. At church she al- ways sings the top line of the hymn-book. In England there was an army of Roundheads. In America there is an army of Soft-heads. If I were compelled to marry either a girl with bangs or an In- dian squaw, I wouldn't do it. No, sir, I wouldn't. A girl with bangs is no companion for a man, but is a fit wife for a balky mule. Meet a banged girl on the streets and she bows at you like a jumping-jack. If she is on your right she looks over her left shoulder at you. She seems to say : "Don't you breathe twice in my presence. Look at me and die. All creation, attention !" All devils of mischief do not wear bangs, but all that wear bangs are imps of meanness. The Kentucky belle who eloped with a negro bar- ber wore bangs. The Indianapolis girl who murdered the wife of a Chinaman in order to marry her husband 208 TEN WEEKS IN" ELOCUTION. wore bangs. The last act of Miss Ida Stipes, of Buf- falo, before committing suicide, was to bang her hair. That woman who stole a silver cup from the Palmer House, at Chicago, wore bangs. Poodle dogs, Ute Indians, and mean girls, wear bangs. I hate bangs with an unappeasable hatred. They are the remote cause of three-fourths of the feminine mischief, and the direct cause of one-fourth of all the deviltry. I Dnce knew a sweet-faced girl, in whose eyes heaven's own blue seemed to melt. Could you have seen her, lithe and elastic, you would have thought her the tidiest figure under the stars. You could hardly think of joys more thrilling than the pleasure of living with her all your life, far, far away amid the primeval for- ests, where there are no railroads, steamboats, or post- offices ; where you could wander and gather wild roses for her hair, and in some dark shade, read, from gilt- edged books, sweet poetry to her all day long. Of evenings, leave the cold room, and, contrary to the rules of college, gather warmth from the cheering rays of pale moonshine. Excepting her nightingale voice there is no music below the skies half so sweet as the gentle rustling of her dress as she passes. You could trace her footsteps over the 4 stony pavement. Her eyes were like the blazing stars, her lips like two twin cherries, her cheeks semi-transparent, her hair smooth and glossy like a fairy's, her form and beauty combined, where every god did seem to set his seal and give the world assurance of an angel. But the tempter came. That very night her Boston cousin set foot in our village. She told this wingless angel that all the Boston girls wore bangs, and that they were two awfully lovely for any use. In one short hour that pretty, gentle, timid girl was banged. Then look you what follows. Look upon the former angel; then upon this, the counterfeit presentment of the same creature. See what a grace was seated on SELECTIONS. 209 the first brow. Bangs blur the grace and blush of modesty ; call beauty hypocrite, take off the rose of beauty and set bangs there. I saw the features, those mangled features, and then I cried for vengeance. Rouse ye lovers, if ye have fair girls, look in the next fierce brawl to see them banged, torn from your arms, distorted and disfigured. After that sight, how weary, stale, flat and unprofitable seemed this world. It is an unweeded garden. Fie on it. Oh, fie. "Frailty, thy name is woman." Bangs are not, and they can not come to good. But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue. — J. V. Coombs. THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET. O'er a low couch the setting sun Had thrown its latest ray, "Where, in his last strong agony, A dying warrior lay — The stern old Baron Rudiger, Whose frame had ne'r been bent By wasting pain, till time and toil Its iron strength had spent. "They come around me here, and say My days of life are o'er - That I shall mount my noble steed And lead my band no more; They come, and to my beard they dare To tell me now, that I, Their own liege lord and master born — That I— ha ! ha !— must die ! "And what is death ? I've dared him oft, Before the Paynim's spear — Think ye he's entered at my gate, Has come to seek me here? I've met him, faced him, scorned him, When the fight was raging hot — I'll try his might — I'll brave his power — Defy, and fear him not ! 14 210 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. " Ho ! sound the tocsin from the tower, And fire the culverin ! Bid each retainer arm with speed, Call every vassal in ! Up with my banner on the wall ! The banquet board prepare! Throw wide the portal of my hall, And bring my armor there!" A hundred hands were busy then; The banquet forth was spread, And rang the heavy oaken floor With many a martial tread ; While from the rich, dark tracery, Along the vaulted wall, Lights gleamed on harness, plume, and spear, O'er the proud Gothic hall. Fast hurrying through the outer gate, The mailed retainers poured On through the portal's frowning arch, And thronged around the board ; While at its head, within his dark, Carved, oaken chair of state, Armed cap-a-pie, stern Rudiger, With girded falchion sate. " Fill every beaker up, my men ! Pour forth the cheering wine ! There's life and strength in every drop, Thanksgiving to the vine ! Are ye all there, my vassals true ? — Mine eyes are waxing dim: Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, Each goblet to the brim ! "Ye're there, but yet 1 see you not! Draw forth each trusty sword, And let me hear your faithful steel Clash once around my board ! I hear it faintly — louder yet ! What clogs my heavy breath? Up, all! and shout for Rudiger, ' Defiance unto death ! ' " Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel, And rose a deafening cry, That made the torches flare around, And shook the flags on high: SELECTIONS. 211 "Ho ! cravens ! do ye fear him ? Slaves ! traitors ! have he flown Ho ! cowards, have ye left me To meet him here alone ? " But I defy him ! let him come ! " Down rang the massy cup, While from its sheath the ready blade Came flashing half way up ; And with the black and heavy plumes Scarce trembling on his head, There, in his dark, carved, oaken chair, Old Rudiger sat — dead ! — A. G. Greene. A NAUGHTY LITTLE GIEL'S VIEW OF LIFE. I'm only a very little girl, but I think I have just as much right to say what I want to about things as a boy. I hate boys, they are so mean ; they grab all the strawberries at the dinner-table, and never tell us when they're going to have any fun. Only I like Gus Rog- ers. The other day Gus told me he was going to let off some fireworks, and he let Bessie Nettle and me go and look at them. All of us live in a hotel, and his mother's room has a window with a balcony. And it was there we had the fireworks, right on the balcony. His mother had gone out to buy some creme de lis to put on her face, and he'd went and got eleven boxes of lucifer matches, and ever so many pieces of Castile soap; he stealed them from the housekeeper. Just when she was going to put them in her closet, Gus went and told her Mrs. Nettle wanted her directly a minute, and while she was gone he grabbed the soap and the matches, and when she came back we watched her, and she got real mad, and she scolded Delia, that's the chambermaid, and said she know'd she did it; and I was real glad, because when I was turning somersets on my mother's bed the other day, Delia slapped me, and she said she wasn't going to make the bed two times to please me; then Bessie and me sticked the 212 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION matches in the soap like tenpins, and Gas fired them off, and they blazed like anything, and they made an awful smell, and Gus went and turned a little of the gas on so's his mother would think it was that. We get our dinner with the nurses, 'cause the man that keeps the hotel charges full price for children if they sit at the table in the big dining-room. Once my mother let me go there with her, and I talked a heap at the table, and a gentleman that sat next to us said "Little girls should be seen and not heard." The mean old thing died last week, and I was real glad, and I told Delia so, and she said if I went and said things like that I couldn't go to heaven. Much she knows about it. I wouldn't want to go if dirty things like she went there. Yesterday Mary, our nurse, told Bes- sie Nettle's nurse that she heard Larry Finnegan was going to marry her. Larry is one of the waiters, and he saves candies for me from the big dining-room. And Bessie Nettle's nurse said, " Oh, Lord! what a lie !" and Bessie Nettle went in her mother's room, and her little brother said she nipped him, and Bessie said, a Oh, Lord ! what a lie ! " and you should have heard how her mother did talk to her, and went and shut her up in a dark room where she kept her trunks, and didn't let her have nothing but bread and water, and Gus Rogers went and yelled through the key-hole, and said, " Bessie, the devil is coming to fetch you," and Bessie screamed and almost had a fit, and her mother told Mrs. Rogers, and got Gus licked, and Gus says he's a good mind to set the house on fire some day and burn her out. One day I went in the parlor and creeped under a sofa, and there wasn't anybody there. They don't let dogs or children go in the parlor, and I think it's real mean — and I creeped under the sofa, so's nobody could see me; and Mr. Boyce came in and Miss Jackson. I don't like Miss Jackson; she said one day childreDS was a worse nuisance than dogs was. And Mr. Boyce SELECTIONS. 213 and Miss Jackson came and sitted down on the sofa, and he said, "Oh, Louisa, I love you so much," and then he kissed her. I heard it smack. And she said, " Oh, Thomas, I wish I could believe you ; don't you never kiss anybody else?" and he said, "No, dearest," and I called out, " Oh, what a big story, for I saw him kiss Bessie Nettle's nurse in the hall one night when the gas was turned down." Didn't he jump up; you bet — Gus always says you bet — and he pulled me out and tored my frock, and he said, "Oh, you wicked child, where do you expect to go for telling stories?" and I told him, "You shut up, I ain't going anywhere with you." I wish that man would die like the other did, so I do, and I don't care whether he goes to heaven or not. Gus Rogers' mother had a lunch party in her parlor, and they had champagne, and they never gave him any, and when his mother wasu't looking he found a bottle half full on the sideboard, and he stealed it and took it in our nursery, and Mary wasn't there, and Gus and me drinked it out of the glass Mary brushes her teeth in, and it was real nice, and we looked in Mary's wardrobe and finded her frock she goes to church in, and Gus put it on, and Mary's bonnet, too, and went in the hall, and we tumbled down and tored Mary's frock, and made my nose bleed, and Gus said, " Oh, there's a earthquake," 'cause we couldn't stand up, and you should see how the house did go up and down, awful ; and Gus and me laid down on the carpet, and the housekeeper picked me up and tooked me to my mother, and my mother said, " Oh, my, whatever have you been doing?" and I said, "Oh, Lord! I drinked champagne out of Gus Rogers' mother's bottle in the glass Mary brushes her teeth in," and the housekeeper says, " Oh, my goodness gracious, that child's as tight as bricks," and I said, " You bet, bully for you," and then I was awful sick, and I have forgotten what else. 214 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. STAY ON THE FAKM. You are leaving the farm to seek wealth and fame In the city so grand and gay; To win you a fortune and gain you a name, And be somebody, you say. A farmer's life is too plodding and tame — You can not get rich in a day ! And you can't bear the thought of thus ever the same Plodding slowly along till you're gray. You will start as a clerk, but you say by and by You expect to own a large store, And rapidly sell what you carefully buy, With clerks to assist by the score. You will build a fine mansion, full three stories high, With your gilt-lettered name on the door; You'll be rich some fair day just as easy as try, Leaving fools on the farm to stay poor. But hold on, my young friend; not so sudden, I pray; Don't be in such haste to begin; Remember that Rome was not built in a day, And sometimes the tortoises win. If you knew what you will on the farm you would stay- What you will after years spent in vain ; Years of toil, years of heart-aches, hair growing gray In wretchedness, poverty, sin. You will find for each toiler grown rich and esteemed, A thousand have died in despair; In the garrets of misery those who had dreamed As you dream, to find happiness there ; But had found instead what they little had dreamed, Fierce hunger, and cold, and care ; You will wish you were back where the glad sun-rays gleamed, By the brook in the sweet country air. There are culture and wealth in the city no doubt, And beauty, and music, and mirth; But you will find from their circles securely shut out All those not in from their birth, Or those who for years have patiently wrought And gained them a place by their worth, And refinement and wealth may as safely be sought By patiently tilling the earth. SELECTIONS. 215 It is right, is it not, to reflect, my young friend, Before risking yourself and your all, Where the chance is so slender for gaining your end, And so great that you stumble and fall? That you will get rich I do not pretend, But plenty your own you may call If you stay on the farm ; and I do recommend Such a course as the most rational. There is need for you here, for strong hands and brave hearts, For the nobly ambitious and true; The plow of the husbandman vigor imparts, And life and prosperity too, To all trades, to all progress in science and arts, To all that men think or men do. For me, I'll ne'er leave it for the sin-crowded marts — Your hand, my boy ! neither will you. — J. W. McBroom. SETTING A HEN. Meester Verris : I see dot mosd efferpoty wrides someding for de stricken bapers nowtays, and I tought meppe I can do dot too, as I wride all apout vat dook blace mit me lasht summer ; you know — odor of you don'd know, den I dells you— dot Katrina (dot is mine vrow) und me, ve keep some shickens for a long dime ago, und von tay she sait to me, "Sockery" (dot is mein name), "vy dond you put some uf de aigs under dot olt plue hen shickens, I dinks she vants to sate." "Yell," I sait, "meppe I guess I vill;" so I bicked out some uf de best aigs und dook um oud do de parn fere de olt hen make her nesht in de side uf do hay- mow, poud five six veet up ; now, you see, I nefer vos ferry pig up und town, but I vos putty pig all de vay arount in de mittle, so I koodn't reach up dill I vent und get a parrel do stant on ; veil, I klimet on de par- rel, und ven my hed rise up by de nesht, dot olt hen gif me such a bick dot my nose runs all ofer my face mit plood, und ven I todge pack dot plasted olt parrel he preak, und I vent town kershlam ; I didn't tink I kood go insite a parrel pefore, put dere I vos, und I 216 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. fit so dite dot I koodn't get me oud efferway, my fest vos bushed vay up unter my arm-holes. Veil I fount I vos dite shtuck, I holler, "Katrina! Katrina!" und ven she koom und see me shtuck in de parrel up to my arm-holes, mit my face all plood and aigs, she shust lait town on de hay und laft und laft, till I got so mat I sait, " Vot you lay dare und laf like a olt vool, eh ? Vy dond you koom bull me oud?" und she set up und sait, "Oh, vipe oif your chin, und bull your fest town ;" den she lait back und laft like she vood shblit herself more as efer. Mat as I vas, I tought to myself, Katrina, she sbeak English pooty goot, put I only sait, mit my cratest dignitude, "Katrina, vill you bull me oud dis parrel?" und she see dot I look booty red, so she said, "Uf course I vill, Sockery;" den she lait me und de parrel town on our site, und I dook holt de door sill, und Katrina she bull on de parrel, but de first bull she mate Iyellet, "Donner und blitzen, shtop dat ; dere is nails in de parrel ! " You see de nails bent town ven I vent in, but ven I koom oud dey schticks in me all de vay rount; veil, to make a short shtory long, I dold Katrina to go und dell nayper Hausman to pring a saw und saw me dis parrel off; veil, he koom, und he like to shblit himself mit laf too, but he roll me ofer und saw de parrel all de vay around off, und I get up mit haf a parrel around my vaist; den Katrina she say, " Sockery, vait a little till I get a bat- tern uf dat new oferskirt you haf on," put I didn't sait a vort. I shust got a nife oud und vittle de hoops off und shling dot confountet olt parrel in de voot-pile. Pimeby, ven I koom in de house Katrina she sait, so soft like, "Sockery, don'd you goin' to but some aigs under dot olt plue hen ?" Den I sait in my deep- est woice, "Katrina, uf you efer say dot to me again, Pll got a pill uf wriding from de lawyer from you," und I dell you she didn't say dot any more. Yell, Mr. Verris, ven I shtep on a parrel now, I don'd shtep on it, I get a pox. — Sockery. SELECTIONS. 217 QUAEKEL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. Cassius. — That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this : You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella For taking bribes here of the Sardians, Wherein my letters, praying on his side, Because I knew the man, were slighted off. Brutus. — You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case. Cassius. — In such a tyne as this, it is not meet That every nice offense should bear his comment. Brutus. — Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm, To sell and mart your offices for gold To undeservers. Cassius.-^ I an itching palm? You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. Brutus. — The name of Cassius honors this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. Cassius. — Chastisement ! Brutus. — Remember March, the Ides of March remember ! Did not great Julius bleed for justice's sake? What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, And not for justice? What, shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers ; shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honors For so much trash as may be grasped thus? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman. Cassius. — Brutus, bay not me. I'll not endure it; you forget yourself, To hedge me in ; I am a soldier, I, Older in practice ; abler than yourself To make conditions. Brutus. — Go to ; you are not, Cassius. Cassius. — I am. Brutus. — I say you are not. Cassius. — Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further. Brutus. — Away, slight man ! Cassius. — Is't possible ? Brutus. — Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? Cassius. — O ye gods ! ye gods ! must I endure all this ? Brutus. — All this? Ay, more; fret till your proud heart break -, Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, 218 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humor? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish. Cassius. — Is it come to this? Brutus. — You say you are a better soldier: Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well ; for mine own part I shall be glad to learn of noble men. Cassius. — You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus-* I said an elder soldier, not a better ; Did I say "better?" Brutus. — If you did, I care not. Cassius. — When Csesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. Brutus. — Peace, peace ! you durst not so have tempted him. Cassius. — I durst not? Brutus. — No. Cassius. — What? Durst not tempt him? Brutus. — For your life you durst not. Cassius. — Do not promise too much upon my love; I may do that I shall be sorry for. Brutus.— You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am arm'd so strong in honesty, That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not. I did send to you For certain sums of gold, which you denied me; For I can raise no money by vile means ; By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash By any indirection. I did send To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius? Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Be ready, gods, with all your thunder-bolts; Dash him to pieces ' Cassius. — I denied you not. Brutus. — You did. Cassius. — I did not: he was but a fool that brought My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart. A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. Brutus. — I do not, till you practice them on me. SELECTIONS. 219 Cassius. — You love me not. Brutus. — I do not like your faults. Cassius. — A friendly eye could never see such faults. Brutus. — A flatterer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus. Cassius. — Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come ! Kevenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is aweary of the world : Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother ; Check'd like a bondman ; all his faults observed, Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote, To cast into my teeth. Oh, I could weep My spirit from mine eyes ! There is my dagger And here my naked breast; within, a heart, Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold : If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth; I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart: Strike as thou didst at Csesar; for, I know, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. Brutus. — Sheathe your daggers Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor. O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger as the flint bears fire : Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, And straight is cold again. Cassius. — Hath Cassius lived To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus When grief and blood ill-temper'd vexethhim? Brutus. — When I spoke that I was ill-temper'd, too. Cassius. — Do you confess so much ? Give me your hand. Brutus. — And my heart, too. (Embracing.) Cassius. — O Brutus ! Brutus. — What's the matter? Cassius. — Have you not love enough to bear with me When that rash humor which my mother gave me Makes me forgetful ? Brutus. Yes, Cassius ; and, from henceforth, When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. — Shakspere. ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE. "Move my arm-chair, faithful Pompey, In the sunshine, bright and strong, For this world is fading, Pompey, Massa won't be with you long j 220 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. And I fain would hear the south wind Bring once more the sound to me, Of the wavelets softly breaking On the shores of Tennessee. "Mournful though the ripples murmur, As they still the story tell, How no vessels float the banner That I've loved so long and well. I shall listen to their music, Dreaming that again I see Stars and Stripes on sloop and shallop Sailing up the Tennessee. "And, Pompey, while old Massa's waiting For Death's last dispatch to come, If that exiled starry banner Should come proudly sailing home, You shall greet it, slave no longer — Voice and hand shall both be free That shout and point to Union colors On the waves of Tennessee." " Massa's berry kind to Pompey ; But old darkey's happy here, Where he's tended corn and cotton For dese many a long gone year. Over yonder Missis' sleeping — No one tends her grave like me. Mebbe she would miss the flowers She used to love in Tennessee. "'Pears like she was watching Maasa — > If Pompey should beside him stay, Mebbe she'd remember better How for him she used to pray; Telling him that way up yonder White as snow his soul would be, If he served the Lord of heaven While he lived in Tennessee." Silently the tears were rolling Down the poor old dusky face, As he stepped behind his master, In his long accustomed place. Then a silence fell around them As they gazed on rock and tree Pictured in the placid waters Of the rolling Tennessee. SELECTIONS. 221 Master, dreaming of the battle Where he fought by Marion's side, When he bid the haughty Tarlton Stoop his lordly crest of pride. Man, remembering how yon sleeper Once he held upon his knee, Ere she loved the gallant soldier, Ealph Vervair, of Tennessee. Still the south wind fondly lingers 'Mid the veteran's silver hair ; Still the bondman close beside him Stands behind the old arm-chair. With his dark-hued hand uplifted, Shading eyes, he bends to see Where the woodland boldly jutting Turns aside the Tennessee. Thus he watches cloud-born shadows Glide from tree to mountain crest, Softly creeping, aye and ever To the river's yielding breast. Ha ! above the foliage yonder Something flutters wild and free! "Massa! massa! halleluliah! The flag's come back to Tennessee! 11 Pompey, hold me on your shoulder, Help me stand on foot once more, That I may salute the colors As they pass my cabin door. Here's the paper signed that frees you- — Give a freeman's shout with me: *God and Union ! ' be our watchword Evermore in Tennessee." Then the trembling voice grew fainter, And the limbs refused to stand ; One prayer to Jesus — and the soldier Glided to the better land. When the flag went down the river Man and master both were free, While the ring-dove's note was mingled With the rippling Tennessee. — Ethel L. Beers, 222 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. DAVID'S LAMENT OVER ABSALOM. The king stood still Till the last echo died ; then, throwing off The sack-cloth from his brow, and laying back The pall from the still features of his child, He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth In the resistless eloquence of woe : "Alas ! my noble boy, that thou shouldst die! Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair! That death should settle in thy glorious eye, And leave his stillness in this clustering hair! How could he mark thee for the silent tomb My proud boy, Absalom ! "Cold is thy brow, my son, and I am chill, As to my bosom I have tried to press thee. How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet ' my father,' from these dumb And cold lips, Absalom ! " The grave hath won thee. I shall hear the gush Of music, and the voices of the young ; And life will pass me in the mantling blush, And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung; But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come To meet me, Absalom ! "But, oh! when I am stricken, and my heart, Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, How will its love for thee, as I depart, Yearn for thine ear, to drink its last, deep token, It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom, To see thee, Absalom ! "And now farewell ! 'Tis hard to give thee up, With death, so like a gentle slumber, on thee; And thy dark sin ! oh ! I could drink the cup, If, from this woe, its bitterness had won thee. May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home, My erring Absalom ! " He covered up his face, and bowed himself, A moment, on his child; then, giving him A look of melting tenderness, be clasped His hands convulsively, as if in prayer; And, as a strength were given him of God, He rose up calmly, and composed the pall, Firmly and decently, and left him there, As if his rest had been a breathing sleep. — Willis. SELECTIONS. 223 MAKMION AND DOUGLAS. The train from out the castle drew ; But Marmion stopped to bid adieu — " Though something I might 'plain," he said, "Of cold respect to stranger guest, Sent hither by your king's behest, While in Tantallon's towers I stayed — Part we in friendship from your land, And, noble earl, receive my hand." But Douglas round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms, and thus he spoke • " My manors, halls, and bowers shall still Be open, at my sovereign's will, To each one whom he lists, howe'er Unmeet to be the owner's peer. My castles are my king's alone, From turret to foundation-stone — ■ The hand of Douglas is his own; And never shall in friendly grasp The hand of such as Marmion clasp ! " Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, And shook his very frame for ire, And — "This to me!" he said ; "An 'twere not for thy hoary beard, Such hand as Marmion's had not spared To cleave the Douglas' head ! And first I tell thee, naughty peer, He who does England's message here, Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mate! And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, Even in thy pitch of pride, Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near, (Nay, never look upon your lord, And lay your hands upon your sword), I tell thee thou 'rt defied ! And if thou saidst I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied !" On the earl's cheek the flush of rage O'ercame the ashen hue of age ; Fierce he broke forth : "And darest thou, then, To beard the lion in his den — The Douglas in his hall? 224 TEN WEEKS IK ELOCUTION. And hopest thou hence unscathed to go? No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no ! Up drawbridge, grooms !— what, warder, ho! Let the portcullis fall." Lord Marmion turned — well was his need- And dashed the rowels in his steed ; Like arrow through the archway sprung, The ponderous gate behind him rung: To pass, there was such scanty room, The bars, descending, razed his plume. The steed along the drawbridge flies, Just as it trembled on the rise: Nor lighter does the swallow skim Along the smooth lake's level brim : And when Lord Marmion reached his band, He halts, and turns with clenched hand, A shout of loud defiance pours, And shakes his gauntlet at the towers ! — Walter Scott^ AWFULLY LOVELY PHILOSOPHY. A few days ago a Boston girl, who had been attend- ing the School of Philosophy at Concord, arrived in Brooklyn on a visit to a seminary chum. After can- vassing thoroughly the fun and gum-drops that made up their education in the seat of learning at which their early scholastic efforts were made, the Brooklyn girl began to inquire the nature of the Concord enter- tainment. "And so you are taking lessons in philosophy? How do you like it?" " Oh, it's perfectly lovely ! It's about science, you know, and we all just dote on science." "It must be nice. What is it about?" " It's about molecules as much as anything else, and molecules are just too awfully nice for anything. If there's anything I really enjoy it's molecules." "Tell me about them, my dear. What are mole- cules?" " Oh, molecules ! They are little wee things, and SELECTIONS. 225 it takes ever so many of them. They are splendid things. Do you know, there ain't anything but what's got molecules in it. And Mr. Cook is just as sweet as he can be, and Mr. Emerson, too. They explain everything so beautifully." " How I'd like to go there ! " said the Brooklyn girl, enviously. "You'd enjoy it ever so much. They teach proto- plasm, too, and if there's one thing perfectly heavenly it's protoplasm. I really don't know which I like best, protoplasm or molecules." "Tell me about protoplasm. I know I should adore it." "'Deed you would. It's just too sweet to live. You know it's about how things get started, or something of that kind. You ought to hear Mr. Emerson tell about it. It would stir your very soul. The first time he explained about protoplasm there wasn't a dry eye in the house. We named our hats after him. This is an Emerson hat. You see the ribbon is drawn over the crown and caught with a buckle and a bunch of flowers. Then you turn up the side with a spray of forget-me-nots. Ain't it just too sweet? All the girls in the school have them." "How exquisitely lovely! Tell me some more science." " Oh ! I almost forgot about differentiation. I am really and truly positively in love with differentiation. It's different from molecules and protoplasm, but it's every bit as nice., And Mr. Cook ! You should hear him go on about it. I really believe he's perfectly bound up in it. This scarf is the Cook scarf. All the girls wear them, and we named them after him, just on account of the interest he takes in differentia- tion." "What is it, any way?" "This is mull, trimmed with Languedoc lace " m TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. " I don't mean that — that other." "Oh, differentiation! Ain't it sweet? It's got something to do with species. It's the way you tell one hat from another, so you'll know which is becom- ing. And we learn all about ascidians, too. They are the divinest things! I'm absolutely enraptured with ascidians. If I only had an ascidian of my own I wouldn't ask anything else in the world." "What do they look like, dear? Did you ever see one?" asked the Brooklyn girl, deeply interested. "Oh, no; nobody ever saw one except Mr. Cook and Mr. Emerson ; but they are something like an oyster with a reticule hung on its belt. I think they are just heavenly." " Do you learn anything else besides?'' "Oh, yes! We learn about common philosophy and logic, and those common things like metaphysics ; but the girls don't care anything about those. We are just in ecstasies over differentiations and molecules, and Mr. Cook and protoplasms, and ascidians and Mr. Emerson, and I really don't see why they put in those vulgar branches. If anybody besides Mr. Cook and Mr. Emerson had done it, we should have told him to his face that he was terribly, awfully mean." And the Brooklyn girl went to bed that night in the dumps, because fortune had not vouchsafed her the advantages enjoyed by her friend. THE OWL CRITIC. " Who stuffed that white owl ! " Ko one spoke in the shop. The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop; The customers, waiting their turn were all reading The Daily, the Herald, the Post, little heeding The young man who blurted out such a blunt question, l4ot one raised a head, or even made a suggestion : And the barber kept on shaving. M Don't you see, Mister Brown," cried the youth with a frown, " How wrong the whole thing is, how preposterous each wing is, SELECTIONS. 22? How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is. In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck ? tis 1 I make no apology ; I've learned owl-eology. I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections And can not be blinded to any deflections Arising from unskillful fingers that fail To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail. Mister Brown! Mr. Brown! Do take that bird down, Or you'll soon be the laughing stock all over townP And the barber kept on shaving. a I've studied owls and other night fowls, And I'll tell you what I know to be true : An owl can not roost with his limbs so unloosed. No owl in the world ever had his claws curled, Ever had his legs slanted, ever had his bill canted Ever had his neck screwed into that attitude — Can't do it, because 'tis against all bird laws. Anatomy teaches, ornithology preaches, An owl has a toe that can't turn out so! I've made the white owl my study for years, And to see such a job almost moves me to tears ! Mister Brown, I'm amazed you should be sc gone crazed As to put up a bird in that posture absurd ! To look at that owl really brings on a dizziness ; The man who stuffed him don't half know his business I s * And the barber kept on shaving. Examine those eyes ; I'm filled with surprise Taxidermists should pass off on you such poor glass; So unnatural they seem, they'd make Audubon scream And John Burroughs laugh, to encounter such chaff. Do take that bird down, have him stuffed again. Brown \ n And the barber kept on shaving. " With some saw-dust and bark, I could stuff in the dark An owl better than that. I could make an old hat Look more like an owl than that horrid fowl, Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather. In fact, about him there's not one natural feather." Just then with a wink and a sly, normal lurch, The otfl very gravely got down from the perch, Walked round and regarded his fault-finding critic (Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic, And then fairly hooted, as if he should say : u Your learning's at fault this time, any way ; Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray. I'm an owl ; you're another. Sir Critic, good day ! " And the barber kept on shaving. — James T. Fields 228 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. THE GREEN MOUNTAIN JUSTICE. "The snow is deep," the Justice said; "There's mighty mischief overhead," " High talk, indeed ! " his wife exclaimed ; "What, sir! shall Providence be blamed?** The Justice, laughing, said, " Oh no ! I only meant the loads of snow Upon the roofs. The barn is weak ; I greatly fear the roof will break. So hand me up the spade, my dear, I'll mount the barn, the roof to clear.'' " No ! " said the wife ; " the barn is high, And if you slip, and fall, and die, How will my living be secured? — Stephen, your life is not insured. But tie a rope your waist around, And it will hold you safe and sound." " I will," said he. " Now for the roof — All snugly tied, and danger-proof ! Excelsior! Excel — But no! The rope is not secured below!" Said Kachel, " Climb, the end to throw Across the top, and I will go And tie that end around my waist." " Well, every woman to her taste ; You always would be tightly laced. Rachel, when you became my bride, I thought the knot securely tied ; But lest the bond should break in twain, I'll have it fastened once again." Below the arm-pits tied around, She takes her station on the ground, While on the roof, beyond the ridge, He shovels clear the lower edge. But, sad mischance ! the loosened snow Comes sliding down, to plunge below. And as he tumbles with the slide, Up Rachel goes on t'other side. Just half-way down the Justice hung; Just half-way up the woman swung. "Good land o' Goshen ! " shouted she; "Why, do you see it?" answered he. The couple, dangling in the breeze, Like turkeys hung outside to freeze, At their rope's end and wit's end, too, Shout back and forth what best to do. SELECTIONS. 229 Cried Stephen, "Take it coolly, wife; Ail have their ups and downs in life." Quoth Rachel, " What a pity 'tis To joke at such a time as this ! A man whose wife is being hung Should know enough to hold his tongue." w Now, Eachel, as I look below, I see a tempting heap of snow. Suppose, my dear, I take my knife, And cut the rope to save my life." She shouted, " Don't ! 'twould be my death- I see some pointed stones beneath. A better way would be to call, With all our might, for Phebe Hall." u Agreed!" he roared. First he, then she Gave tongue : " O Phebe ! Phebe ! Phe-e- he Hall ! " in tones both fine and coarse, Enough to make a drover hoarse. NoWj Phebe, over at the farm, Was sitting, sewing, snug and warm ; But hearing, as she thought, her name, Sprang up, and to the rescue came, Beheld the scene, and thus she thought: u If, now, a kitchen chair were brought, And I could reach the lady's foot, I'd draw her downward by the boot, Then cut the rope, and let him go ; He can not miss the pile of snow." He sees her moving towards his wife, Armed with a chair and carving-knife, And, ere he is aware, perceives His head ascending to the eaves; And, guessing what the two are at, Screams from beneath the roof, "Stop thati You make me fall too fai, by half 1" But Phebe answers with a laugh, "Please tell a body by what right You've brought your wife to such a plight! * And then, with well-directed blows, She cuts the rope and down he goes. The wife untied, they walk around, When lo ! no Stephen can be found. They call in vain, run to and fro; They look around, above, below ; No trace or token can they see, And deeper grows the mystery. Then Rachel's heart within her sank But, glancing at the snowy bank, WQ TEN" WEEKS IX ELOCUTION. She caught a little gleam of hope— • A gentle movement of the rope. They scrape away a little snow ; What's this? A hat! Ah! he's below. Then upward heaves the snowy pile, And forth he stalks in tragic style, Unhurt, and with a roguish smile ; And Rachel sees, with glad surprise, The missing found, the fallen rise. COQUETTE PUNISHED. Ellen was fair, and knew it, too, As other village beauties do, Whose mirrors never lie ; Secure of any swain she chose, She smiled on half a dozen beaux, And, reckless of a lover's woes, She cheated these and taunted those, "For how could any one suppose A clown could take her eye?" But whispers through the village ran That Edgar was the happy man The maid designed to bless ; For, wheresoever moved the fair, The youth was, like her shadow, there, And rumor boldly matched the pair, For village folks will guess. Edgar did love, but was afraid To make confession to the maid, So bashful was the youth : Certain to meet a kind return, He let the flame in secret burn, Till from his lips the maid should learn Officially the truth. At length one morn to take the air, The youth and maid, in one-horse chair, A long excursion took. Edgar had nerved his bashful heart The sweet confession to impart, For ah ! suspense had caused a smart He could no longer brook. He drove, nor slackened once his reins, Till Hempstead's wide-extended plains Seemed joined to skies above; SELECTIONS. 231 Nor house, nor tree, nor shrub was near The rude and dreary scene to cheer, Nor soul within ten miles to hear, And still poor Edgar's silly fear Forbade to speak of love. At last one desperate effort broke The bashful spell, and Edgar spoke With most persuasive tone; Recounted past attendance o'er, And then, by all that's lovely, swore That he would love forever more, If she'd become his own. The maid in silence heard his prayer, Then, with a most provoking air, She tittered in his face; And said, " 'Tis time for you to know A lively girl must have a beau, Just like a reticule— for show; And at her nod to come and go ; But he should know his place. "Your penetration must be dull To let a hope within your skull Of matrimony spring. Your wife? ha! ha! upon my word, The thought is laughably absurd As anything I ever heard — I never dreamed of such a thing P The lover sudden dropp'd his rein When on the center of the plain ; ''The linch-pin's out!" he cried; "Be pleased one moment to alight, Till I can set the matter right, That we may safely ride," He said, and handed out the fair; Then laughing, cracked his whip in air, And wheeling round his horse and chair, Exclaimed, "Adieu, I leave you there In solitude to roam." "What mean you, sir?" the maiden cried, " Did you invite me out to ride, To leave me here without a guide? Nay, stop, and take me home." " What ! take you home ! " exclaimed the beau; " Indeed, my dear, I'd like to know How such a hopeless wish could grow, 232 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Or in your bosom spring. What! take Ellen home ! ha! ha! upon my word, The thought is laughably absurd As anything I ever heard — I never dreamad of such a thing ! " DOT BABY OF MINE. Mine cracious ! Mine cracious ! shust look here und see A Deutcher so habby as habby can pe. Der beoples all dink dat no prains I haf got, Vas grasy mit drinking, or someding like dot; Id vasn't pecause I trinks lager und vine, Id vas all on aggount of dot baby off mine. Dot schmall leedle vellow I dells you vas queer; Not mooch pigger round as a goot glass off beer, Mit a bare-footed hed, and nose but a schpeck, A mout dot goes most to der pack of his neck, And his leedle pink toes mid der rest all combine To gife sooch a charm to dot baby of mine. I dells you dot baby was von off der poys, Und beats leedle Yawcob for making a noise; He shust has pegun to shbeak goot English, too, Says "Mamma," and "Bapa," and somedimes "ah-gooI w You don't find a baby den dimes oudt off nine Dot vas quite to schmart as dot baby off mine. He grawls der vloor over, und drows dings aboudt, Und puts efryding he can find in his mout; He dumbles der shtairs down, und falls vrom his chair, Und gifes mine Katrina von derrible schare. Mine hair stands like shquills on a mat borcupine Ven I dinks'of dose pranks of dot baby off mine. Dere was someding, you pet, I don't likes pooty veil ; To hear in der nighdt dimes dot young Deutcher yell, Und dravel der ped-room midout many clo'es, Vhile dei chills down der shpine off mine pack quickly goes. Does leedle shimmasdic dricks vasn't so fine Dot I cuts oop at nighdt mit dot baby off mine. Veil, dese leedle schafers vos goin' to pe men, Und all off dese droubles vill peen ofer den ; Dey vill vear a vhite shirt-vront inshted of a bib, Und voudn't got tucked oop at nighdt in deir crib. Veil 1 veil ! ven I'm feeple und in life's decline, May mine oldt age pe cheered by dot baby off mine. —Charles F. Adams, SELECTIONS. 233 SHE WOULD HAVE CHEWING GUM. The bright-red sun was setting on the egg of morrow's dawn, As a Vassar girl strolled, pigeon-toed, adown the level lawn ; And the fading rays with roses wreathed the hair of one who lay In the gathering twilight lonely, filled with terror and dismay. "She may cry, and howl, and kick up ; but she wouldn't do my sum, And I'll never, never, never let her chew my chewing gum ! " " Teacher," Bessie's white lips faltered, as she pointed to the maid, "Did you hear that horrid creature? Do you know what she has said? In her dark and gloomy pocket she is carrying her loose Boarding-school companion, much as twenty sticks of spruce, And she says that I shall have none — II her only friend, her chum ; " And she spoke in husky whispers, " I must have her chewing gum !" " Bessie," calmly spoke the teacher (every word froze in her ear), " For years I've taught at Vassar, and I will not interfere. I know the regulations, and respect the rules and laws; I am here to educate your mind, and not supply your jaws. I have done my duty ever; I've been cool, discreet and mum ; But I can't make Bertha Underwood give you her chewing gum. w Wild the girl's eyes, pale her features, as she totters up the stair, And the dews fall in soft pity as the stars see her despair. Not a moment stops the maiden till she gains the upper flight, And stands out in the darkness like an angel carved in night. Now she enters Bertha's chamber, and pants, " Now let her come ; n Stills her frightened heart's wild beating, "I must have her chew- ing gum ? " Far out, the distant city seems a tiny, sparkling speck. Where she well remembers often buying spruce gum by the peck. Above, the throbbing heavens seemingly reflect her soul, In which the spheres of vengeance their mighty music roll Shall she still their diapason ? Shall she smite their anthems dumb ? She crushes swift the feeling ; she must have that chewing gum. Quick she strips the bed of clothing; quick she wraps her in a sheet, And the garment winding tenderly, clothes her from head to feet Then, in a darkened corner, like a member of the host Who sometimes wander back to earth, she stands, a rigid ghost. And, panting, still she listens till she hears the fairy drum Of Bertha's fairy footsteps, bringing up that chewing gum. Such a yell ! a quivering figure lies fainting on the floor The very winds stop sighing as they shrink back from the door. 234 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Swift the ghostly Bessie steals from where the gath'ring shadows curl, And bends in fluttering triumph above the prostrate girl. With trembling hands she searches in the pocket of her chum, And cries out in her madness, " I must have her chewing gum." The pale, soft moon rose slowly ; each bright star bent her head, As the patron orb of Vassar threw her rays around the dead, And, like another moon, the teacher climbed the winding stair, To find fair Bertha robed in death, and Bessie kneeling there, With no remorse on that pale face, as she whispered softly, "Come ! The Angels have got Bertha, but I've got her chewing gum ! " — Brooklyn Eagle. ENTERTAINING SISTER'S BEAU. " My sister'll be down in a minute, and says you're to wait, if you please ; , And says I might stay till she came, if I'd promise never to tease, Nor speak till you spoke to me first. But that's nonsense, for how would you know What she told me to say, if I didn't ? Don't you really and truly think so? "And then you'd feel strange here alone ! And wouldn't know just where to sit ; For that chair isn't strong on its legs, and we never use it a bit. We keep it to match with the sofa. But Jack said it would be just like you To flop yourself right down upon it, and knock out the very last screw. "'Spose you try? I won't tell. You're afraid to! Oh! you're afraid they would think it was mean ! Well, then, there's the album — that's pretty, if your fingers are clean. My sister says sometimes I daub it; but she only says that when she's cross; There's her picture. You know it ? It's like her ; but she ain't as good looking, of course ! " That is me. It's the best of 'em all. Now, tell me you'd never have thought That once I was little as that? It's the only one that could be bought — For that was the message to pa from the photograph man where I sat — That he wouldn't print off any more till he first got his money foi that. SELECTIONS. 235 " What ? Maybe you're tired of waiting,, Why, often she's longer than this. There's all her back hair to do up, and all her front hair to friz. But it's nice to be sitting here talking like grown people, just you and me. Do you think you'll be coming here often? Oh 3 do! But don't come like Tom Lee. " Tom Lee ? Her last beau. Why, my goodness ! He used to be here day and night. Till the folks thought he'd soon be her husband ; and Jack says that gave him a fright. You won't run away, then, as he did ? for you're not a rich man, they say ; Pa says you're as poor as a church mouse. Now, are you ? And how poor are they ? "Ain't you glad that you met me ? Well, I am ; for I know your hair isn't red ; But what there is left of it's mousy, and not what that naughty Jack said. But there ! I must go ! Sister's coming. But I wish I could wait, just to see If she ran up to you and kissed you in the way she used to kiss Lee." — Bret Harte. A LITEKAKY NIGHTMAEK Will the reader please cast his eyes over the follow- ing verses and see if he can discover anything harmful in them ? " Conductor, when you receive a fare, Punch in the presence of the passenjare! A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, A pink trip slip for a three-cent fare, Punch in the presence of the passenjare I CHORUS. Punch, brothers ! punch with care ! Punch in the presence of the passenjare !" I came across these jingling rhymes in a newspaper a little while ago, and read them a couple of times. They took instant and entire possession of me. All through breakfast they went waltzing through my 236 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. brain. I had carefully laid out my day's work the day before. I took up my pen ; but all I could get it to say was, " Punch in the presence of the passenjare." I fought hard for an hour, but it was useless. My head kept humming, "A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, a buff trip slip for a six-cent fare," and so on and so on, without peace or respite. The day's work was ru- ined — I could see that plainly enough. I gave up and drifted down town, and presently discovered that my feet were keeping time to that relentless jingle. When I could stand it no longer I altered my step. But it did no good ; those rhymes accommodated themselves to the new step, and went on harrassing me just as be- fore. I returned home, and suffered all the afternoon ; suffered all through an unconscious and unrefreshing dinner; suffered, and cried, and jingled all through the evening; went to bed, and rolled, tossed and jing- led right along, the same as ever ; got up at midnight frantic, and tried to read ; but there was nothing visi- ble upon the whirling page except " Punch ! punch in the presence of the passenjare!" By sunrise I was out of my mind, and everybody marveled and was dis- tressed at the idiotic burden of my ravings : "Punch ! oh, punch! punch in the presence of the passenjare!" Two days later, on Saturday morning, I arose, a tot- tering wreck, and went forth to fulfill an engagement with a valued friend, the Kev. Mr. , to walk ten miles distant. He stared at me, but asked no questions. We started. Mr. talked, talked, talked — as is his wont. I said nothing; I heard nothing. At the end of a mile, Mr. said : " Mark, are you sick ? I never saw a man look so haggard and worn and absent-minded. Say something ; do!" Drearily, without enthusiasm, I said : " Punch, brothers ! punch with care ! Punch in the presence of the passenjare ! " SELECTIONS. 237 My friend eyed me blankly, looked perplexed, then said : " I do not think I get your drift, Mark. There does not seem to be any relevancy in what you have said, certainly nothing sad ; and yet — maybe it was the way you said the words — I never heard anything that soun- ded so pathetic. What is — " Bat I heard no more. I was already far away with my pitiless, heart-breaking " blue trip slip for an eight- cent fare, buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, pink trip slip for a three-cent fare; punch in the presence of the passenjare." I do not know what occurred during the other nine miles. However, all of a sudden, Mr. laid his hand on my shoulder and shouted : " O, wake up ! wake up ! wake up ! Don't sleep all day V Here we are at the Tower, man ! I have talked myself deaf and dumb and blind, and never get a re- sponse. Just look at this magnificent autumn land- scape ! What do you say to this?" I sighed wearily, and murmured : "A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent fare, punch in the presence of the pas- senjare." Rev. Mr. ■ stood there, very grave, full of con- cern, apparently, and looked long at me ; then he said : " Mark, there is something about this that I can not understand. Those are about the same words you said before ; there does not seem to be anything in them, and yet they nearly break my heart when you say them. Punch in the — -how is it they go?" I began at the beginning and repeated all the lines. My friend's face lighted with interest. He said : "Why, what a captivating jingle it is ! It is almost music. It flows along so nicely. I have nearly caught the rhymes myself. Say them over just once more, and then I'll have them, sure." I said them over. Then Mr. said them. He made one little mistake, which I corrected. The next 238 TEN AVEEKS IN ELOCUTION. time and the next he got them right. Now a great burden seemed to tumble from my shoulders. That torturing jingle departed out of my brain. I was light-hearted enough to sing; and I did sing for half an hour. Then my freed tongue found blessed speech again. As I wrung my friend's hand at parting, I said : " Haven't we had a royal good time ! But now I remember, you haven't said a word for two hours. Come, come, out with something!" The Rev. Mr. — turned a lack-lustre eye upon me, drew a deep sigh, and said, without animation, without apparent consciousness : " Punch, brothers ! punch with care ! Punch in the presence of the passenjare ! " A pang shot through me as I said to myself, " Poor fellow, poor fellow ! he has got it now." I did not see Mr. — for two or three days after that. Then, on Tuesday evening, he staggered into my presence, and sank dejectedly into a seat. He was pale, worn ; he was a wreck. He lifted his faded eyes to my face, and said : "Ah, Mark, it was a ruinous investment that I made in those heartless rhymes. They have ridden me like a nightmare, day and night, hour after hour, to this very moment. Since I saw you I have suffered the torments of the lost. Saturday evening I had a sud- den call by telegraph, and took the night train for Bos- ton. The occasion was the death of a valued old friend, who had requested that I should preach his funeral sermon. I took my seat in the cars and set myself to framing the discourse. But I never got beyond the opening paragraph ; for then the train started and the car- wheels began their ' clack-clack-clack-clack ! clack- clack-clack-clack ! ' and right away those odious rhymes fitted themselves to that accompaniment. For an hour I sat there and set a syllable of those rhymes to every separate and distinct clack the car- wheels made. Why, SELECTIONS. 239 I was as fagged out then as if I had been chopping wood all day. My skull was splitting with headache. It seemed to me that I must go mad if I sat there any longer ; so I undressed and went to bed. I stretched myself out in my berth, and — well, you know what the result was. The thing went right along, just the same. ' Clack-clack-clack, a blue trip slip, clack- clack-clack, for an eight-cent fare ; clack-clack-clack, a buff trip slip, ciack-clack-clack, for a six-cent fare — and so on, and so on, and so on— punch in the pres- ence of the passenjare ! ' Sleep ? Not a single wink ! I was almost a lunatic when I got to Boston. Don't ask me about the funeral. I did the best I could ; but every solemn individual sentence was meshed and tangled and woven in and out with l Punch, brothers! punch with care ! Punch in the presence of the pas- senjare/ And the most distressing thing was that my delivery dropped into the undulating rythra of those pulsating rhymes, and I could actually catch absent- minded people nodding time to the swing of it with their stupid heads. And, Mark, you may believe it or not, but before I got through, the entire assemblage were placidly bobbing their heads in solemn unison, mourners, undertaker, and all. The moment I had finished, I fled to the ante-room in a state bordering on frenzy. Of course, it would be my luck to find a sorrowing and aged maiden aunt of the deceased there, who had arrived from Springfield too late to get into the church. She began to sob and said : " ' Oh, oh, he is gone, and I didn't see him before he died ! ' " ' Yes ! ' I said, i he is gone, he is gone, he is gone — oh, wilt this suffering never cease?' 1(1 Yon loved him, then ! Oh, you too loved him!* i(l Loved him! Loved who? 9 " ' Why, my poor George ! my poor nephew \ 9 " f Oh — him I Yes— oh, yes, yes. Certainly — cer- tainly. Punch — punch — oh, this misery will kill me ! ' 240 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. <<€ Bless you ! bless you, sir, for those sweet words! I, too, surfer in this dear loss. Were you present dur- ing his last moments V " ' Yes ! I — whose last moments f ' " ' His. The dear departed's.' a 'Yes! Oh, yes — yes — yes! I suppose so, I think so. I don't know ! Oh, certainly— I was there — 1 was there ! ' " ' Oh, what a privilege! what a precious privilege. And his last words — oh, tell me— tell me his last words! What did he say?' " ' He said — he said- — oh, my head, my head, my head ? He said— he said — he never said anything but Punch, punch, punch in the presence of the passenjare ! Oh, leave me, madam ! In the name of all that is gener- ous, leave me to my madness, my misery, my despair ! — a buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent fare— endurance can no further go !— punch in the presence of the passenjare I 9 " My friend's hopeless eyes rested on mine a pregnant minute, and then he said impressively : "Mark, you do not say anything You do not offer me any hope. But, oh, me, it is just as well — it is just as well. You could not do me any good. The time has long gone by when words could comfort me. Something tells me that my tongue is doomed to wag forever to the jigger of that remorseless jingle. There — there it is coming on me again: a blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, a buff trip slip for a — " Thus murmuring faint and fainter, my friend sank into a peaceful trance, and forgot his sufferings in a blessed respite. — Mark Twain. THE BABY'S FIRST TOOTH. Mr. and Mrs. Jones had just finished their break- fast. Mr. Jones had pushed back his chair and was looking under the lounge for his boots. Mrs. Jones SELECTIONS. 241 sat at the table, holding the infant Jones and mechan- ically working her fingers in its mouth. Suddenly she paused in the motion, threw the astonished child on its back, turned as white as a sheet, pried open its mouth, and immediately gasped "Ephraim!" Mr. Jones, who was yet on his knees with his head under the lounge, at once came forth, rapping his head sharp- ly, on the side of the lounge as he did so, and getting on his feet, inquired what was the matter. "O, Eph- raim," said she, the tears rolling down her cheeks and the smiles coursing up. "Why, what is it, Arama- thea?" said the astonished Mr. Jones, smartly rubbing his head where he had come in contact with the lounge, "Baby!" she gasped. Mr. Jones turned pale and commenced to sweat. "Baby! O — O — O Ephraim! Baby has — baby has got — a little toothey, oh! oh?" " No ! " screamed Mr. Jones. " I tell you it is," per- sisted Mrs. Jones, with a slight evidence of hysteria. " Oh it can't be ! " protested Mr. Jones, preparing to swear it wasn't. "Come here and see for yourself," said Mrs. Jones. "Open its 'ittle mousy-wousy for its own muzzer ; that's a toody- woody ; that's a blessed 'ittle 'ump o' sugar." Thus conjured, the heir opened it's mouth sufficiently for the father to thrust in his finger, and that gentleman having convinced himself by the most unmistakable evidenee that a tooth was there, immediately kicked his hat across the room, buried his fist in the lounge, and declared with much feeling that he could lick the individual who would dare to intimate that he was not the happiest man on the face of the earth. Then he gave Mrs. Jones a hearty smack on the mouth and snatched up the heir, while that lady rushed tremblingly forth after Mrs. Simmons, who lived next door. In a moment Mrs. Simmons came tearing in as if she had been shot out of a gun, and right behind her came Miss Simmons at a speed that indicated that she had been ejected 16 242 TEN WEEKS IN" ELOCUTION. from two guns. Mrs. Simmons at once snatched the heir from the arms of Mr. Jones and hurried it to the window, where she made a careful and critical ex- amination of its mouth, while Mrs. Jones held its head and Mr. Jones danced up and down the room, and snapped his fingers to show how calm he was. It having been ascertained by Mrs. Simmons that the tooth was a sound one, and also that the strongest hopes for its future could be entertained on account of its coming in the new moon, Mrs. Jones got out the necessary material and Mr. Jones at once pro- ceeded to write seven different letters to as many per- sons, unfolding to them the event of the morning and inviting them to come on as soon as possible. — D anbury News Man* LIBERTY AND UNION. While the Union lasts we have high, exciting, grat- ifying prospects spread out before us, for us and onr children. Beyond that I seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that in my day, at least, that curtain may not rise. God grant that on my vision may never be opened what lies behind. When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dis- honored fragments of a once glorious Union ; on states dissevered, discordant, belligerent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood ! Let their last feeble and lingering glance, rather be-, hold the gorgeous ensign of the republic, now known and honored throughout the earth, still full high ad- vanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their origi- nal luster, not a stripe erased or polluted, not a single star obscured, bearing for its motto no such miserable interrogatory as — What is all this worth ? Nor those other words of delusion and folly — Liberty first and SELECTION 243 Union afterward ; but everywhere, spread all over, in characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they float over the sea and ovei the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, that other senti- ment, dear to every true American heart,— -Liberty and Union, now and forever ? one and inseparable ! SCHOOLING A HUSBAND, Mrs. Centre was jealous. She was one of those dis- contented women who are never satisfied unless some- thing goes wrong. When the sky is bright and pleas- ant they are annoyed because there is nothing to grumble at. The trouble is not with the outward world, but with the heart, the mind. Her husband was a very good sort of person, though he probably had his peculiarities. At any rate, he had a cousin whose name was Sophia Smithers, and who was very pretty, very intelligent, and very amia- ble. Centre and his wife boarded at a private establish- ment. At the same house also boarded Centre's par- ticular, intimate, and confidential friend Wallis. Wallis could not help observing that Mrs. Centre watched her husband very closely, and Centre at last confessed that there had been some difficulty. So they talked the matter over together and came to the con- clusion that it was very stupid for any one to be jeal- ous. What they did, I don't know, but one evening Centre entered the room and found Mrs. Wallis there. "My dear, I am obliged to go out a few moments to call upon a friend," said Centre. " To call upon a friend ! " sneered Mrs. Centre. " Yes, my dear, I shall be back presently." "The old story." " If it was my husband I would follow him," said Mrs. Wallis. 244 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. "I will! Sophia Smithers lives very near and I am sure he is going there." Centre had gone up stairs to put on his hat and overcoat, and in a moment she saw him on the stairs. She could not mistake him, for there was no other gentleman in the house who wore such a peculiarly shaped Kossuth as he wore. He passed out and Mrs. Centre passed out after him. 6he followed the queer shaped Kossuth of her hus- band and it led her to C street, where she had expected it would lead her. And further, it led her to the house of Smithers, the father of Sophia. She was shown into the sitting-room where the beautiful girl of many virtues was engaged in sewing. "Is my husband here?" she demanded. " Mr. Centre ? Bless you, no ! He hasn't been here for a month." Gracious ! Hadn't she followed that unmistakable hat to the house ? She was amazed at the coolness of her husband's fair cousin. Before she had believed it was only a flirta- tion ; now, she was sure it was something infinitely worse, and she thought about a divorce; or at least a separation. She was astonished and asked no more questions. Did the guilty pair hope to deceive her— -her, the argus- eyed wife? She had some shrewdness, and she had the cunning to conceal her purpose by refraining from any appearance of distrust. After a few words upon com- mon-place topics, she took her leave. When she reached the sidewalk there she planted herself, determined to wait till Centre came out. For more than an hour she stood there nursing the yellow demon of jealousy. He came not. She was catching her death-cold. What did he care. He was bestowing his affections upon her who had no legal right to them. The wind blew, and it began to rain. She could SELECTIONS. 245 stand it no longer. She should die before she got the divorce. She must preserve her precious life for the present, and she reluctantly concluded to go home. She rushed into the house. Mrs. Wallis was there still. Throwing herself upon the sofa she wept like a great baby. While weeping, Mr. Centre entered the room, looking just as though nothing had happened. " You wretch ! " sobbed the lady. " What is the matter, my dear ? " coolly inquired the gentleman. "You wretch!" " What has happened ? " "You insult me, abuse me, and then ask me what the matter is ! Haven't I been waiting in C street for two hours for you to come out of Smithers' house?" "Have you?" " I have, you wretch ! " "And I didn't come out?" " No ! You know you didn't ! " " There was an excellent reason for that, my dear. I wasn't there." " You wasn't there, you wretch ! How dare you tell me such an abominable lie ! But I have found you out. You go there every day, yes, twice, three times a day ! I know your amiable cousin, now ! She can lie as well as you." " Sophia tell a lie ! Oh no, my dear ! " "But she did. She said you were not there." " That was very true • I was not." " How dare you tell me such a lie ! You have been with Sophia all the evening." "Nay, Mrs. Centre, you are mistaken," interposed Mrs. Wallis, " Mr. Centre has been with me in this room all the evening." " What ! Didn't I see him go out, and follow him to C street?" " No, my dear, I haven't been out this evening. I changed my mind." 246 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Just then Wallis entered the room with that peculiar Kossuth on his head, and the mystery was explainedo Mrs. Centre was not a little confused, and very much ashamed of herself. Wallis had been in Smithers' library smoking a cigar, and had not seen Sophia. But Centre should have known better than to tell his wife what a pretty, intelligent, amiable and kind-hearted girl Sophia was. No husband should speak well of any lady but his wife. RURAL LIFE IN ENGLAND. In rural life there is nothing mean and debasing. It leads a man forth among scenes of natural grandeur and beauty ; it leaves him to the workings of his mind, operated upon by the purest and most elevating of ex- ternal influences. Such a man may be simple and rough, but he can not be vulgar. The man of refine- ment, therefore, finds nothing revolting in an inter- course with the lower orders in rural life, as he does when he casually mingles with the lower orders of cities. He lays aside his distance and reserve, and is glad to waive the distinctions of rank, and to enter into the honest, heartfelt enjoyments of common life. Indeed, the very amusements of the country bring men more and more together. It is a pleasing sight, of a Sunday morning, when the bell is sending its sober melody across the quiet fields, to behold the country folk, in their best finery, with ruddy faces and modest cheerfulness, thronging tranquilly along the green lanes to church ; but it is still more pleasing to see them in the evenings, gath- ering about their cottage doors, and appearing to exult in the humble comforts and embellishments which their own hands have spread around them. — Irving, SELECTIONSo 247 THE WHISTLE. :i You have heard," said a youth to his sweetheart, who stood While he sat on a corn-sheaf at daylight's decline ; :: You have heard of the Danish boy's whistle of wood : I wish that that Danish boy's whistle was mine ! " "And what would yon do with it? Tell me," she said, While an arch smile played over her beautiful face. " I would blow it," he answered, " and then my fair maid Would fly to my side, and would there take her place." "Is that all you wish it for? That may be yours Without any magic," the fair maiden cried ; "A favor so light one's good nature secures," And she playfully seated herself by his side. " I would blow it again," said the youth, " and the charm Would work so that not even modesty's check Would be able to keep from my neck her fair arm." She smiled and placed her fair arm round his neck. " Yet once more would I blow, and the magic divine Would bring me a third time an exquisite bliss, You would lay your fair cheek to this brown one of mine, And your lips stealing past it would give me a kiss." The maiden laughed out in her innocent glee — " What a fool of yourself with the whistle you'd make ; For only consider now silly 't would be To sit there and whistle for what you might take/' THE RISING, 1776. Out of the North the wild news came, Far flashing on its wings of flame, Swift as the boreal light which flies, At midnight through the startled skies. And there was tumult in the air, The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat, And through the wide land everywhere The answering tread of hurrying feet ; While the first note 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. 248 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. 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 bloom, 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. The pastor rose; The prayer was strong; The psalm was warrior David's song; The text, a few short words of might — " The Lord of hosts shall arm the right ! " 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 his 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. 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 eyea Complete in all a warrior's guise. SELECTIONS. 249 A moment there was awful pause — When Berkley cried : " Cease, traitor I 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 wake 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'er 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 his desk he came — u Come out with me, in Freedom's name, For her to live, for her to die?" A hundred hands flung up reply, A hundred voices answered, "II" —-T. B« Bead, THE MODEL AMERICAN GIRL, A practical, plain young girl 5 Not-afraid-of-the-rain, young girl; A poetical posy, A ruddy-and rosy, A helper-of-self, young girl. At-home-in-her-place, young girl j A never- will-lace, young girl; A toiler serene, A life pure and clean, A princess-of-peace, young girL 250 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. A wear-her-own-hair, young girl; A free-from-a-stare, young girl; Improves every hour, No sickly sun-flower, A wealth-of rare-sense, young girl. Plenty -room-in-the-shoes, young girl; A free-from-the-blues, young girl; Not a bang on her brow, To fraud, not a bow ; She's-just-what- she-seems, young girl: Not-a-reader-of-trash, young girl ; Not-a-cheap-jeweled-flash, young girl: Not a sipper of rum, Not a chewer of gum, A marvel-of-sense, young girl. An early-retiring, young girl ; An active- aspiring, young girl; A morning ariser, A dandy despiser, A progressive-American girl. A lover-of-prose, young girl ; Not a-turn-up-your-nose, young girl; Not given to splutter, Not " utterly utter," But a-matter-of-fact, young girl. A rightly ambitious, young girl ; Bed lips-most-delicious, young girl; A sparkling clear eye, That says, " I will try," A sure-to-succeed, young girl. An honestly-courting, young girl ; A never-seen-flirting, young girl ; A quiet and pure, A modest, demure, A fit-for-a-wife, young girl." A sought-everywhere, young girl ; A future-most-fair, young girl; An ever discreet, We too seldom meet, This queen-among-queens, young girl. — Virail A. gil A. Pinkley, SELECTIONS. 251 GAPE-SEED. A Yankee, walking the streets of London, looked through a window upon a group of men writing very rapidly ; and one of them said to him in an insulting manner, " Do you wish to buy some gape-seed ?" Pass- ing on a short distance, the Yankee met a man and asked him what the business of those men was in the office he had just passed. He was told that they wrote letters dictated by others, and transcribed all sorts of documents ; in short, they were writers. The Yan- kee returned to the office, and inquired if one of the men would write a letter for him, and was answered in the affirmative. He asked the price, and was told one dollar. After considerable talk, the bargain was made; one of the conditions of which was that the scribe should write just what the Yankee told him to, or he should receive no pay. The scribe told the Yan- kee he was ready to begin ; and the latter said — "Dear marm : " and then asked, " Have you got that deown?" " Yes," was the reply, " go on" " I went to ride t'other day ; have you got that deown?" " Yes ; go on, go on" "And I harnessed up the old mare into the wagon ; have you got that deown ? " " Yes, yes, long ago ; go on." " Why, how fast you write ! And I got into the wagon, and sat deown, and drew up the reins, and took the whip in my right hand ; have you got that deown ?" " Yes, long ago ; go on." " Dear me, how fast you write ! I never saw your equal. And I said to the old mare, ' Go 'long,' and jerked the reins pretty hard ; have you got that deown ?" " Yes ; and I am impatiently waiting for more. I wish you wouldn't bother me with so many foolish questions. Go on with your letter." 252 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. " Well, the old mare wouldn't stir out of her tracks, and I hollered, ' Go 'long, you old jade / go 'long.' Have you got that deown ? " "Yes, indeed, you pestiferous fellow ; go on." "And I licked her, and licked her, and licked her — [continuing to repeat these words as rapidly as possible.] " Hold on there ! I have written two pages of ' licked her/ and I want the rest of the letter." " Well, and she kicked, and she kicked, and she kicked — [continuing to repeat these words with great rapidity], " Do go on with your letter ; I have several pages of * she kicked.' " [The Yankee clucks as in urging horses to move, and continues the clucking noise with rapid repetition for same time.'] The scribe throws down his pen. " Write it deown ! write it deown ! " " I can't ! " " Well, then, I won't pay you." [ The scribe, gathering up his papers.] " What shall I do with all these sheets upon which I have written your nonsense?" " You may use them in doing up your gape-seed. Good-bye!" PITT'S REPLY TO WALPOLR The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and de- cency, charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny, but content myself with hoping that I may be one of those whose follies cease with their youth, and not of that number who are ignorant in spite of experience. Whether youth can be imputed to a man as a reproach, I will not assume the province of determining; but, surely age may become justly SELECTIONS, 253 contemptible, if the opportunities which it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice appears to prevail when the passions have subsided. The wretch who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand errors', continues still to blunder, and whose age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object either of abhorrence or contempt, and deserves not that his gray hairs should secure him from insult. Much more is he to be abhorred who, as he has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and become more wick- ed — with less temptation; who prostitutes himself for money which he can not enjoy, and spends the remains of his life in the ruin of his country. But youth is not my only crime ; I am accused of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply some peculiarity of gesture, or a dissimulation of my real sentiments and an adoption of the opinions and language of another man. In the first sense, the charge is too trifling to be confuted, and deserves only to be mentioned that it may be despised. I am at lib- erty, like every other man, to use my own language ; and though, perhaps, I may have some ambition to please this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his diction or his mein, however matured by age or modeled by experi- ence. But, if any man shall, by charging me with theatri- cal behavior, imply that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator and a vil- lain, nor shall any protection shelter him from the treatment he deserves. I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple, trample upon all those forms with which wealth and dignity intrench themselves, nor shall anything but age restrain my resentment; age,— which always brings one privilege, that of being insolent and supercilious without punishment. But, with regard to those whom I have offended, I am of opinion that, if I had acted a borrowed part, I 254 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. should have avoided their censure ; the heat that of- fended them was the ardor of conviction and that zeal for the service of my country which neither hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress. I will not sit un- concerned while my liberty is invaded, nor look in si- lence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavors, at whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor and drag the thief to justice, whoever may protect him in his villainies, and whoever may partake of his plunder. BOOT-BLACKS. A day or two ago, two boot-blacks, one white and one black, were standing at the corners, when the white boot-black agreed to black the black boot-black's boots. The black boot-black was, of course, willing to have his boots blacked by his fellow boot-black, and the boot-black who had agreed to black the black boot-black's boots went to work. When the boot-black had blacked one of the black boot-black's boots till it shone in a manner that would make any boot-black proud, this boot-black who had agreed to black the black boot-black's boots now re- fused to black the other boot of the black boot-black until the black boot-black, who had consented to have the white boot-black black his boots, should add five cents to the amount -the white boot-black had made blacking other men's boots. This the boot-black whose boot had been blacked refused to do, saying it was good enough for a black boot-black to have one boot blacked, and he didn't care whether the boot that tne white boot-black hadn't blacked was blacked or not. This made the boot-black who had blacked the black boot-black's boot as angry as a boot-black often gets, and he vented his black wrath by spitting upon the blacked boot of the black boot-black. This roused the latent passions of the black boot-black, and he pro- SELECTIONS. 255 ceeded to boot the white boot-black with the boot which the white boot-black had blacked. A fight en- sued, in which the white boot-black who had refused to black the unblacked boot of the black boot-black, blacked the black boot-black's eye, and iu which the black boot-black wore all the blacking off his blacked boot in booting the white boot-black. REPLY TO MR. WICKHAM IN BURR'S TRIAL, IN 1807. In proceeding to answer the argument of the gen- tleman, I will treat him with candor. If I misrepre- sent him, it will not be intentional. I will not follow the example which he has set me on a very recent oc- casion. I will endeavor to meet the gentleman's propositions in their full force, and to answer them fairly. I will not, as I am advancing toward them, with my mind's eye measure the height, breadth and power of the proposition ; if I find it beyond my strength, halve it ; if still beyond my strength, quar- ter it; if still necessary, subdivide it into eighths; and when, by this process, I have reduced it to the proper standard, take one of these sections and toss it with an air of elephantine strength and superiority. If I find myself capable of conducting, by a fair course of reasoning, any one of his propositions to an absurd conclusion, I will not begin by stating that absurd conclusion as the proposition itself which I am going to encounter. I will not, in commenting on the gen- tleman's authorities, thank the gentleman, with sarcas- tic politeness, for introducing them, declare that they conclude directly against him, read just so much of the authority as serves the purpose of that declaration, omitting that which contains the true point of the case, which makes against me ; nor, if forced by a direct call to read that part also, will I content myself by running over it as rapidly and inarticulately as I can, 256 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. throw down the book with a theatrical air, and exclaim, "Just as I said ! " when I know it is just as I had not said. I know that, by adopting these arts, I might raise a laugh at the gentleman's expense; but I should be very little pleased with myself if I were capable of enjoyiug a laugh procured by such means. I know, too, that, by adopting such arts, there will always be those standing around us who have not comprehended the whole merits of the legal discussion, with whom I might shake the character of the gentleman's science and judgment as a lawyer. I hope I shall never be capable of such a wish ; and I had hoped that the gentleman himself felt so strongly that proud, that high, aspiring and ennobling magnanimity, which I had been told conscious talents rarely fail to inspire, that he would have disdained a poor and fleeting tri- umph gained by means like these. — William Wirt TOO LATE FOE THE TKAIK When they reached the depot, Mr. Mann and his wife gazed in unspeakabel disappointment at the re- ceding train, which was just pulliug away from the bridge switch at the rate of a mile a minute. Their first impulse was to run after it, but as the train was out of sight and whistling for Sagetown before they could act upon the impulse, they remained in their car- riage and disconsolately turned their horses' heads homeward. Mr. Mann broke the silence, very grimly: "It all comes of having to wait for a woman to get ready." " I was ready before you were/' replied his wife. "Great heavens," cried Mr. Mann, with great im- patience, nearly jerking the horses' jaws out of place, "just listen to that! And I sat in the buggy ten SELECTIONS. 257 minutes yelling at you to come along until the whole neighborhood heard me." "Yes," acquiesced Mrs. Mann, with the provoking placidity which no one can assume but a woman, "and every time I started down stairs you sent me back for something you had forgotten." Mr. Mann groaned. " This is too much to bear/* he said, " when everybody knows that if I were going to Europe I would just rush into the house, put on a clean shirt, grab up my grip-sack, and fly, while you would want at least six months for preliminary prepa- rations, and then dawdle around the whole day of starting until every train had left town." Well, the upshot of the matter was that the Manns put off their visit to Aurora until the next week, and it was agreed that each one should get himself or her- self ready and go down to the train and go, and 'the one who failed to get ready should be left. The day of the match came around in due time. The train was going at 10:30, and Mr. Mann, after attending to his business, went home at 9 : 45. "Now, then," he shouted, "only three-quarters of an hour's time. Fly around ; a fair field and no fa- vors, you know." And away they flew. Mr. Mann bulged into this room and flew through that one, and dived into one closet after another with inconceivable rapidity, chuck- ling under his breath all the time to think how cheap Mrs. Mann would feel when he started off alone. He stopped on his way up stairs to pull off his heavy boots to save time. For the same reason he pulled off his coat as he ran through the dining-room, and hung it on the corner of the silver closet. Then he jerked off his vest as he rushed through the hall and tossed it on the hat-rack hook, and by the time he had reached his own room he was ready to plunge into his clean clothes. He pulled out a bureau drawer and 17 258 TEN WEEKS IN" ELOCUTION. began to paw at the things like a Scotch terrier after a rat. "Eleanor," he shrieked, "where are my shirts?" " In your bureau drawer," calmly replied Mrs. Mann, who was standing before a glass calmly and deliberately coaxing a refractory crimp into place. " Well, but they ain't ! " shouted Mr. Mann, a little annoyed. " I've emptied everything out of the drawer, and there isn't a thing in it I ever saw before." Mrs. Mann stepped back a few paces, held her head on one side, and after satisfying herself that the crimp would do, replied: "These things scattered around on the floor are all mine. Probably you haven't been looking into your own drawer." "I don't see why you couldn't have put my things out for me when you had nothing else to do all the morning." " Because nobody put mine out for me. A fair field and no favors, my dear." Mr. Mann plunged into his shirt like a bull at a red flag. "Foul!" he shouted, in malicious triumph, "No buttons on the neck ! " "Because," said Mrs. Mann, sweetly, after a deliber- ate stare at the fidgeting, impatient man, during which she buttoned her dress and put eleven pins where they would do the most good, " because you have got the shirt on wrong side out." When Mr. Mann slid out of the shirt he began to sweat. He dropped the shirt three times before he got it on, and while it was over his head he heard the clock strike ten. When his head came through he saw Mrs. Mann coaxing the ends and bows of her nick tie. "Where are my shirt studs?" he cried. Mrs. Mann went out into another room and presently came back with gloves and hat, and saw Mr. Mann emptying all the boxes he could find in and around the SELECTIONS. 259 bureau. Then she said, "In the shirt you just pulled off." Mrs. Mann put on her gloves, while Mr. Mann hunt- ed up and down the room for his cuff-buttons. "Eleanor," he snarled, at last, "I believe you must know where those cuff-buttons are." " I haven't seen them," said the lady, settling her hat; "didn't you lay them down on the window-sill in the sitting-room last night?" Mr. Mann remembered, and he went down stairs on the ran. He stepped on one of his boots and was im- mediately landed in the hall at the foot of the stairs with neatness and dispatch, attended in the transmission with more bumps than he could count with Webb's Adder, and landed with a bang like the Hell Gate ex- plosion. "Are you nearly ready, Algernon?" sweetly asked the wife of his bosom, leaning over the banisters. The unhappy man groaned. " Can't you throw me down the other boot?" he asked. Mrs. Mann, pityingly, kicked it down to him. " My valise?" he inquired, as he tugged at the boot. " Up in your dressing room," she answered. "Packed?" " I do not know ; unless you packed it yourself, pro- bably not," she replied, with her hand on the door knob; "I had barely time to pack my own." She was passing out of the gate when the door opened, and he shouted, "Where in the name of goodness did you put my vest? It has all my money in it!" "You threw it on the hat rack," she called. "Good- bye, dear." Before she got to the corner of the street she was hailed again. " Eleanor ! Eleanor ! Eleanor Mann ! Did you wear off my coat ? " She paused and turned, after signaling the street 260 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. car to stop, and cried, "You threw it in the silver closet." The street car engulfed her graceful form and she was seen no more. But the neighbors say that they heard Mr. Mann charging up and down the house, rushing out of the front door every now and then, shrieking after the unconscious Mrs. Mann, to know where his hat was, and where she put the valise key, and if she had his clean socks and undershirts, and that there wasn't a linen collar in the house. And when he went away at last, he left the kitchen door, the side door and the front door, all the down stairs windows and the front gate, wide open. The loungers around the depot were somewhat amused, just as the train was pulling out of sight down in the yards, to see a flushed, enterprising man, with his hat on sideways, his vest unbuttoned and necktie flying, and his grip-sack flapping open and shut like a demented shutter on a March night, and a door key in his hand, dash wildly across the platform and halt in the middle of the track, glaring in dejected, impo- tent, wrathful mortification at the departing train, and shaking his fist at a pretty woman w 7 ho was throwing kisses at him from the rear platform of the last car. FEETTING. A few years ago, a friend and myself were traveling, on horseback, in Southern Illinois. The day was cold and stormy, hence we stopped at a farm-house on the wayside to warm. We saw, as we approached, ten or twelve children, all of whom looked like twins, pres- sing their noses against the window panes. We en- tered, and found a real bedlam. The children were rude and noisy, and were bounding over the floor like gazelles. The father scolded, and the mother fretted. They SELECTIONS, 261 said the dear ones were usually quite agreeable to strangers. The children had been eating molasses and jelly, and were visibly sweet. Now, I do really love sweet children, but in this case I disliked the sweet- ness, for there was' too much of it. They climbed upon the back of my chair, and affectionately printed the pictures of their honey hands upon my shirt front. One of these promising boys slipped a snow-ball into my boot. In a few moments I found my boot full of water. That water was wet, it generally is in that lo- cality ; but in this case it was exceedingly wet. My surroundings were growing more frightful. I longed for a missionary or a policeman. But relief came at last, for the father shouted : " Get out of that, you little knaves." They got. They darted away like terrified rats. In a few moments these " little knaves" came forth from their hiding places and the following dialogue ensued : " Ma," said boy number one, " how long will these men stay here ? " The boy spoke in semi-aspirate, and the mother whispered, " Billy, hush, or I will put you in the closet." "Will the men be gone when I get out?" "Do hush." "Why must I hush?" My friend was lame, and wore a high-heeled boot. The boy noticed it and said in full voice, and laugh- ing as he spoke : " Oh, ma, look at that man's foot. He has a pep- per-box on his heel. He walks just like Sam's old mule." " Billy," exclaimed the father, " come here, and I will stop your mouth." The boy cowered by the side of his sire. In a mo- ment the boy murmured : " Pa, what is the matter with Sam's mule ? " "String-haltered," whispered the father. 262 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. " Is that man string-haltered ?" My friend began to sweat, and moved toward the door. I appointed myself a committee of one to with- draw from the room. Amid the cheering yells of the father, the sweet notes of the boy, and the melodious shrieks of the mother, we took our departure. We stopped at the next house. A boy met us at the door; pulling off three-fourths of a hat, he told us to come in. The two little girls sat quietly by the win- dow. The mother smiled pleasantly, and everything was in good order. Now, what made the noticeable difference? Simply one household was continually fretting and whining. The peculiar characteristic of some people is whin- ing. They whine because they are poor, and they whine because they are sick and can not enjoy their riches; they whine because they are out of employ- ment, and no sensible man will give them employment because they whine ; they fret until they take the headache, and of course take the headache on account of fretting ; they whine because they are ugly, and they are painfully ugly because they whine. I would have such persons taken out and whipped until they laugh. — /. V. a BILL AND I. The moon had just gone down, sir, But the stars lit up the sky; All was still in tent and town, sir, Not a foeman could we spy. It was our turn at picket, So we marched into the thicket, To the music of the cricket Chirping nigh. Oh, we kept a sharp lookout, sir, But no danger could we spy, And no foeman being about, sir, We sat down there by and by ; SELECTIONS. 263 And we watched the brook a- brawling And counted the stars a-fallin', Old memories overhaul in', Bill and I. And says he, " Won't it be glorious When we throw our muskets by, And home again, victorious, We hear our sweethearts cry, 1 Welcome back ! '" A step ! Who goes there ? A shot — by Heaven, the foe's there ! Bill sat there, all composure, But not I. By the red light of his gun, sir, I marked the daring spy. In an instant it was done, sir — ■ I had fired and heard a cry. I sprang across a stream, sir — Oh, it seems just like a dream, sir, The dizzy, dving gleam, sir, Of that eye? A youth, a very boy, sir, I saw before me lie; Some pretty school-girl's toy, sir, Had ventured here to die. We had hated one another, But I heard him murmer, "Mother!" So I stooped and whispered, "Brother!" No reply. I crossed the stream once more, sir, To see why Bill warn't by ; He was sittin' as before, sir, But a film was o'er his eye. I scarce knew what it meant, sir, Till a wail broke from our tent, sir, As into camp we went, sir, Bill and I. THE TEANSPOETATION OF MITCHELL. There is a black ship upon the southern sea this night. Far from his own, old land — far from the sea, and soil, and sky, which, standing here, he used to 264 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. claim for you with all the pride of a true Irish prince — far from that circle of fresh, young hearts, in whose light, and joyousness, and warmth, his own drank in each evening new life and vigor — far from that young wife, in whose heart the kind hand of heaven has kin- dled a gentle heroism — sustained by which she looks with serenity and pride upon her widowed house, and in the children that girdle her with beauty, beholds but the inheritors of a name, which, to their last breath, will secure to them the love, the honor, the blessing of their country — far from these scenes and joys, clothed and fettered as a felen, he is borne to an island, whereon the rich, and brilliant, and rapacious power of which he was the foe, has doomed him to a dark existence. That sentence must be reversed — reversed by the decree of a nation, arrayed in arms and in glory ! Think ! oh, think ! of how, with throbbing heart and kindling eye, he will look out across the waters that imprison him, searching in the eastern sky for the flag that will announce to him his liberty, and the tri- umph of sedition ! Think ! oh, think ! of that day, when thousands and tens of thousands will rush down to the water's edge, as a distant gun proclaims his return — mark the ship as it dashes through the waves and nears the shore — behold him standing there upon the deck — the same calm, intrepid, noble heart — -his clear, quick eye runs along the shore, and fills with the light which flashes from the bayonets of the people — a moment's pause, and then, amid the roar of the cannon, the fluttering of a thousand flags, the pealing of the cathedral bells, the triumphant felon sets his foot once more upon his native soil — hailed, and blessed, and worshiped as the first citizen of our free and sovereign state ! — I. F. Meagher. SELECTIONS. 265 WOKKINGMEN'S SONG. Whom do we call our heroes? To whom our praises sing? The pampered child of fortune, The titled lord or king ! They live by others' labor, Take all and nothing give. The noblest types of manhood Are those who work to live. Chokus. Then, honor to our workingmen, The hardy sons of toil, The heroes of the workshop, The monarchs of the soil. Who spans the earth with iron? Who rears the palace dome? Who creates for the rich man The comforts of his home? It is the patient toiler: All honor to him, then ; The true wealth of the nation Is in her workingmen. .For many barren ages Earth hid her treasures deep And all her giant forces Seemed bound as in a sleep ; Then Labor's anvil chorus Broke on the startled air, And, lo ! the earth in rapture Laid all her riches bare. 'Tis toil that over nature Gives man his proud control; It purines and hallows The temple of the soul; It scatters foul diseases, With all their ghastly train; Puts iron in the muscle, And crystal in the brain. The great Almighty builder Who fashioned out this earth, Has stamped his seal of honor On Labor from her birth. In every angel flower That blossoms from the sod, Behold the master touches — The handiwork of God. — Henry Clay Preuss. 266 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. THE GKAVE. The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal; every other affliction, to forget; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open. This affliction we cherish, and brood over in solitude. Where is the mother who would willingly forget the infant that has perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang? Where is the child that would willingly forget a tender parent, though to re- member be but to lament? Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns. No, the love which survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights; and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recol- lection ; when the sudden anguish and the convulsive agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved, is softened away into pensive meditation on all that it was in the days of its loveliness, who would root out such a sorrow from the heart? Though it may, some- times, throw a passing cloud over the bright hour of gayety, or spread a deeper sadness over the hour of gloom, yet, who would exchange it even for the song of pleasure or the burst of revelry? No, there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song. There is a remembrance of the dead to which we would turn even from the charms of the living. Oh, the grave! the grave! It buries every error, covers every defect, extinguishes every resentment! From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections. Who can look down upon the grave even of an enemy, and not feel a compunc- tious throb, that he should have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies moldering before him? But the grave of those we loved — what a place for medita- tion ! There it is, that we call up, in long review, the SELECTIONS. 267 whole history o^ virtue and gentleness, and the thou- sand endearments lavished upon us, almost unheeded in the daily intercourse of intimacy. Aye, go to the grave of buried love, and meditate ! There settle the account with thy conscience for every past benefit unrequited; every past endearment unre- garded, of that departed being, who can never — never — never return. Then weave thy chaplet of flowers, and strew the beauties of nature about the grave ; console thy bro- ken spirit, if thou canst, with these tender, yet futile tributes of regret; but take warning by the bitterness of this, thy contrite affliction over the dead, and hence- forth, be more faithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy duties to the living. — Washington Irving. BROKEN HEARTS. Man is the creature of interest and ambition. His nature leads him forth into the struggle and bustle of the world. Love is but the embellishment of his early life, or a song piped in the intervals of the acts. He seeks for fame, for fortune, for space in the world's thought, and dominion over his fellow-men. But a woman's whole life is a history of the affections. The heart is her world ; it is there her ambition strives for empire ; it is there her avarice seeks for hidden treas- ures. She sends forth her sympathies on adventure; she embarks her whole soul in the traffic of affection; and if shipwrecked, her case is hopeless, for it is a bankruptcy of her heart. To a man, the disappointment of love may occasion some bitter pangs ; it wounds some feelings of tender- ness — it blasts some prospects of felicity ; but he is an active being; he may dissipate his thoughts in the whirl of varied occupation, or may plunge into the tide of pleasure ; or, if the scene of disappointment be 268 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. too full of painful associations, he can shift his abode at will, and taking, as it were, the wings of the morn- ing, can "fly to the uttermost part of the earth, and be at rest." But woman's is comparatively a fixed, a secluded, and a meditative life. She is more the companion of her own thoughts and feelings; and if they are turned to ministers of sorrow, where shall she look for con- solation ? Her lot is to be wooed and won ; and if unhappy in her love, her heart is like some fortress that has been captured, and sacked, and abandoned, and left desolate. How many bright eyes grow dim — how many soft cheeks grow pale — how many lovely forms fade away into the tomb, and none can tell the cause that blighted their loveliness ! As the dove will clasp its wings to its side, and cover and conceal the arrow that is prey- ing on its vitals, so it is the nature of woman to hide from the world the pangs of wounded affection. The love of a delicate female is always shy and silent. Even when fortunate, she scarcely breathes it to herself; but when otherwise, she buries it in the recesses of her bosom, and there lets it cower and brood among the ruins of her peace. With her the desire of the heart has failed. The great charm of existence is at an end. She neglects all the cheerful exercises which gladden the spirits, quicken the pulses, and send the tide of life in healthful currents through the veins. Her rest is broken ; the sweet refreshment of sleep is poisoned by melancholy dreams; "dry sorrow drinks her blood," until her enfeebled frame sinks under the slightest external injury. Look for her, after a little while, and you will find friendship weeping over her untimely grave, and won- dering that one who but lately glowed with all the radiance of health and beauty should so speedily be brought down to "darkness and the worm." You will be told of some wintry chill, some casual indispo- SELECTIONS. 269 sition, that laid her low; but no one knows of the mental malady that previously sapped her strength, and made her so easy a prey to the spoiler. She is like some tender tree, the pride and beauty of the grove ; graceful in its form, bright in its foliage, but with the worm preying at its heart. We find it suddenly withering when it should be most fresh and luxuriant. We see it drooping its branches to the earth, and shedding leaf by leaf, until, wasted and per- ished away, it falls even in the stillness of the forest ; and as we muse over the beautiful ruin, we strive in vain to recollect the blast or thunderbolt that could have smitten it with decay c — Washington Irving* THE DUTCHMAN'S SEBENADE. Vake up, my schveet ! Vake up, my lofe ! Der moon dot can't been seen abofe. Vake oud your eyes, und dough it's late, I'll make you oud a serenate. Der shtreet dot's kinder dampy vet, Und dhere vas no goot blace to set; My fiddle's getting oud of dune, So blease get vakey wery soon. O my lofe ! my lofely lofe ! Am you avake ub dhere abofe, Feeling sad und nice to hear Schneider's fiddle schrabin near? Veil, anyvay, obe loose your ear, Und try to saw uf you kin hear From dem bedclose vat you'm among, Der little song I'm going to sung : O lady ! vake ! Get vake ! Und hear der tale I'll tell; Oh ! you vot's schleepin' sound ub dhere I like jou pooty veil ! Your plack eyes dhem don't shine Ven you'm ashleep— so vake ! (Yes, hurry ub und voke ub quick, For gootness cracious sake ! ) 270 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. My schveet imbatience, lofe, I hobe you vill oxcuse ; I'm singing schveetly (dhere, py Jinks I Dhere goes a shtring proke loose ! ) putiful, schveet maid ! Oh ! vill she efer voke ? Der moon is mooning — (Jimminy! dhere Anoder shtring vent proke ! ) Oh ! say, old schleeby head ! (Now I vas getting mad — I'll holler now und I don't care Uf I vake up her dad ! ) 1 say, you schleeby, vake ! Vake oud ! Vake loose ! Vake ub ! Fire! Murder! Police! Vatch! O cracious ! do vake ub ! Dot girl she schleebed — dot rain it rained Und I looked shtoopid like a fool, Vhen mit my fiddle I shneaked off So vet und shlobby like a mool ! THE LAST HYMN. The sacred day was ending in a village by the sea ; The uttered benediction touched the people tenderly, And they rose to face the sunset in the golden glowing west, And then hastened to their dwellings for God's blessed boon of rest. But they looked across the waters, and a storm was raging there ; A fierce spirit moved above them — the wild spirit of the air; And it lashed and shook and tore them, till they thundered, groaned, and boomed. And, alas ! for any vessel in their yawning gulfs entombed ! Sad and anxious were the people, on that rocky coast of Wales, Lest the dawns of coming morrows should be telling fearful tales, When the sea had spent its passion, and should cast upon the shore Tangled wreck and swollen victims, as it had done heretofore. With the rough winds blowing round her, a brave woman strained her eyes, And she saw along the billows a large vessel fall and rise. Oh, it did not need a prophet to tell what the end must be, For no ship could ride in safety near that shore on such a sea. SELECTIONS. 271 Then the pitying people hurried from their homes and thronged the beach. Oh, for power to cross the waters and the perishing to reach ! Helpless hands were wrung for sorrow ; tender hearts grew cold with dread, And the ship, urged by the tempest, to the fatal rock-shore sped. " She has parted in the middle! Oh, the half of her goes down ! God have mercy ! is his heaven far to seek for those who drown?" Lo ! when next the white shocked faces looked with terror on the sea, Only one last clinging figure on a spar was seen to be. Nearer the trembling watchers came the wreck across the wave, And the man still clung and floated, though no power on earth could save. " Could we send him a short message ! Here's a trumpet. Shout away." 'Twas the preacher's hand that took it, and he wondered what to Any memory of his sermon? Firstly? Secondly? Ah, no ! There was but one tiling to utter in the awful hour of woe; So he shouted through the trumpet, " Look to Jesus. Can you hear?" And "Ay, ay, sir ! " rang the answer o'er the waters, loud and clear. Then they listened: "He is singing 'Jesus, Lover of my soul.'" And the winds brought back the echo, " While the nearer waters roll." Strange, indeed, it was to hear him, " Till the storm of life is past," Singing bravely from the waters. " Oh, receive my soul at last ! " He could have no other refuge. "Hangs my helpless soul on Thee; Leave, ah ! leave me not " — the singer dropped at last into the sea. And the watchers, looking homeward through their eyes by tears made dim, Said, "He passed to be with Jesus in the singing of that hymn." THE WATEK-MILL. Oh ! listen to the water-mill, through all the live-long day, As the clicking of the wheels wears hour by hour away; How languidly the autumn wind doth stir the withered leaves, As on the field the reapers sing, while binding up the sheaves ! A solemn proverb strikes my mind, and as a spell is cast, " The mill will never grind again with water that is past." 272 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. The summer winds revive no more leaves strewn o'er earth and main, The sickle never more will reap the yellow garnered grain ; The rippling stream flows ever on, aye, tranquil, deep and still, But never glideth back again to busy water-mill. The solemn proverb speaks to all, with meaning deep and vast, " The mill will never grind again with water that is past." Oh ! clasp the proverb to thy soul, dear loving heart and true, For golden years are fleeting by, and youth is passing too ; Ah ! learn to make the most of life, nor lose one happy day, For time will ne'er return sweet joys neglected, thrown away; Nor leave one tender word unsaid, thy kindness sow broadcast — " The mill will never grind again with water that is past." Oh ! the wasted hours of life, that have swiftly drifted by, Alas ! the good we might have done, all gone without a sigh ; Love that we might once have saved by a single kindly word, Thoughts conceived but ne'er expressed, perishing unpenned, un- heard. Oh ! take the lesson to thy soul, forever clasp it fast, " The mill will never grind again with water that is past." Work on while yet the sun doth shine, thou man of strength and will, The streamlet ne'er doth useless glide by clicking water-mill ; Nor wait until to-morrow's light beams brightly on thy way, For all that thou canst call thine own lies in the phrase " to-day; Possessions, power, and blooming health, must all be lost at last — ' 4 The mill will never grind again with water that is past." Oh ! love thy God and fellow man, thyself consider last, For come it will when thou must scan dark errors of the past; Soon will this fight of life be o'er, and earth recede from view, And heaven in all its glory shine where all is pure and true. Ah ! then thou'lt see more clearly still the proverb deep and vast, " The mill will never grind again with water that is past." — D. C. McCaUum. DOT LAMBS VOT MAKY HAF GOT. Mary haf got a leetle lambs already ; Dose vool vas vite like shnow ; Und efery times dot Mary did vend oued, Dot lambs vent also oued vid Mary. Dot lambs did follow Mary von day of der school-house, Vich vas obbosition to der rules of der schoolmaster, Also, vich it dit caused dose schillen to schmileout loud, Ven dey did saw dose lambs on der insides of der school-house. SELECTIONS. 273 Und zo dot schoolmaster did kick dot lambs quick cued, Likevize, dot lambs dit loaf around en der outsides, Und did shoo der flies mit his tail off patiently aboud, Until Mary did come also from dot school-house oued. Und den dot lambs did run right away quick to Mary, Und dit make his het on Mary's arms, Like he would say, " I dond vas schared, Mary would keep from drouble ena how." Vot vas der reason aboud it, of dot lambs und Mary?" Dose eehillen did ask it dot schoolmaster ; Y-sll, ^oand you know it, dot Mary lov dose lambs already, Hot s<-*K)olmaster did zaid. MORAL. Und zo, alzo, dot moral vas, Boued Mary's lambs' relations; Of you lofe dese like she lofe dose, Dot lambs vas obligations. 18 MY TRUNDLE BED. As I rummaged through the attic, List'ning to the falling rain, As it pattered on the shingles And against the window pane; Peeping over chests and boxes, Which with dust were thickly spread; Saw I in the farthest corner What was once my trundle bed. So I drew it from the recess, Where it had remained so long, Hearing all the while the music Of my mother's voice in song; As she sung in sweetest accents, What I since have often read — "Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, Holy angels guard thy bed." As I listen'd, recollections, That I thought had been forgot, Came with all the gush of memory, Rushing, thronging to the spot ; And I wandered back to childhood, To those merry days of yore, When I knelt beside my mother, By this bed upon the floor. 274 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Then it was with hands so gently Placed upon my infant head, That she taught my lips to utter Carefully the words she said ; Never can they be forgotten, Deep are they in mem'ry riven — " Hallowed be thy name, O Father ! Father ! thou who art in heaven." Years have passed, and that dear mother Long has moldered 'neath the sod, And I trust her sainted spirit Revels in the home of God : But that scene at summer twilight Never has from memory fled, And it comes in all its freshness When I see my trundle bed. This she taught me, then she told me Of its import, great and deep — After which I learned to utter " Now I lay me down to sleep ; " Then it was with hands uplifted, And in accents soft and mild, That my mother asked — " Our Father! Father ! do thou bless my child ! " OH! WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE PROUD? Oh ! why should the spirit of mortal be proud ? Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud, A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, Man passeth from life to his rest in the grave. The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, Be scattered around, and together be laid ; And the young and the old, and the low and the high Shall molder to dust and together shall lie. The infant a mother attended and loved ; The mother that infant's affection who proved; The husband that mother and infant who blessed, — Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest. The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye, Shone beauty and pleasure,— her triumphs are by; And the memory of those who loved her and praised Are alike from the minds of the living erased. SELECTIONS. 275 The hand of the king that the scepter hath borne; The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn ; The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave, Are hidden and lost in the depth of the grave. The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap ; The herdsman who climbed with his goats up the steep; The beggar who wandered in search of his bread, Have faded away like the grass that we tread. The saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven ; The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven ; The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just, Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust. So the multitude goes like the flowers or the weed That withers away to let others succeed ; So the multitude comes, even those we behold, To repeat every tale that has often been told. For we are the same our fathers have been ; We see the same sights our fathers have seen ; We drink the same stream, and view the same sun, And run the same course our fathers have run. The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think; From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink; To the life we are clinging they also would cling; But it speeds for us all, like a bird on the wing. They loved, but the story we can not unfold; They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold; They grieved, but no wail from their slumbers will come; They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb. Thy died, aye ! they died ; and we things that are now, Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow, Who make in their dwelling a transient abode, Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road. Yea ! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain, We mingle together in sunshine and rain ; And the smiles and the tears, the song and the dirge, Still follow each other, like surge upon surge. 'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath, From the blossom of health to the paleness of death, From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud, — Oh 1 why should the spirit of mortal be proud ? — William Knox. 276 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. CATO'S SOLILOQUY ON IMMORTALITY. Cato stting in a thoughtful posture, with Plato's book on the Immortality of the Soul in his hand, and a drawn sword on the table by him. It must be so. — Plato, thou reasonest well ! Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire This longing after immortality? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us; 'Tis heaven itself, that points out a hereafter, And intimates eternity to man. Eternity! — thou pleasing, dreadful thought! Through what variety of untried being, Through what new scenes and changes must we pass) The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me ; But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us, — And that there is, all Nature cries aloud Through all her works, — he must delight in virtue* And that which he delights in must be happy. But when ? or where? This world was made for Caesar* I'm weary of conjectures, — this must end them. {Laying his hand on his sicoi , d.~] Thus am I doubly armed. My death and life, My bane and antidote, are both before me. This in a moment brings me to my end ; But this informs me I shall never die. The soul, secure in her existence, smiles At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in vears; But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt amid the war of elements, The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. — Addison, SPOOPENDYKE'S BURGLARS. " Say, my dear," ejaculated Mr. Spoopendyke, siU ting bolt upright in bed with a sudden jerk ; "say, my dear, wake up! I hear burglars in the house." "Who? what burglar?" demanded Mrs. Spoopen- SELECTIONS. 277 dyke, as she popped up beside her husband. "Who's in the house ? " "Hush ! Quiet, will ye ? I don't know which burg- lar, but I hear some one moving around." " Oh, my! What shall we do?" inquired Mrs. Spoopendyke. "Let's cover up our heads." " Why don't you get up and light the gas ! " pro- pounded Mr. Spoopendyke in a hoarse whisper. " S'pose you can see who it is in the dark! Strike a light, can't ye ? If you had your way we'd both be mur- dered in bed. Going to light up before we're killed ? " "I'm afraid," whispered Mrs. Spoopendyke, stick- ing one foot out of bed and hauling it in as if she had caught a fish with it. " Going to sit there like a shot-tower and have our throats cut ? " interrogated Mr. Spoopendyke. "How'm I going to find a burglar without a light? Find a match and light that gas now, quick ! " Mrs. Spoopendyke crawled out of bed and hunted around for a skirt. " What's the matter with you ? Can't you find a match ! Why don't you move ? " hissed Mr. Spoop- endyke. "I am, as fast as I can," replied his wife, her teeth chattering. "I'm looking for a pin." "Oh! you're moving like a railroad, ain't ye? I never saw anything fly like you do. All you want is to be done up in white and blue papers to be a seidlitz powder. What d'ye want of a pin ? Going to stick a pin in the burglar ? Why don't you light that gas ? " Mrs. Spoopendyke broke half a dozen matches, and finally got a light. " That's something like it," continued Mr. Spoop- endyke. " Now hand me my pantaloons." " You won't go down where they are, will you ? " anxiously inquired Mrs. Spoopendyke, handing over the garment. 278 TEN WEEKS IN" ELOCUTION. Mr. Spoopendyke vouchsafed no reply, but donned the habiliments. " Now, you open the door," said he, " and go to the head of the stairs and ask who's there, while I find my stick. Hurry up, or they'll get away." " Suppose they are there. What'll I do then ? " " Tell 'em I'm coming. Go ask 'em, will ye ? What's the matter with you?" Mrs. Spoopendyke opened the door about an inch, squealed " Who's there ? " slammed the door again, and popped into bed. " What ails ye?" demanded her husband. "What d'ye think you are, anyway — a conical shot? Get up, can't ye, and look out. Where's my big stick ? What have you done with it? Sent it to school, haven't ye? Go out and ask who's there, will ye, before they come up and slaughter us." Once more Mrs. Spoopendyke approached the door and tremulously demanded what was going on. There was no response, to her incalculable relief, and she went to the head of the stairs. " See anybody ? " whispered Mr. Spoopendyke, look- ing over her shoulder. " Who's there ? " squealed Mrs. Spoopendyke. " Go right away, because my husband is here." " Oh, you've done it ! " exclaimed Mr. Spoopendyke, as he hauled her back into the room. "Now, how d'ye s'pose I'm going to catch 'em? What do you want to scare 'em for? What'd you say anything about me for? Think this is a nominating conven- tion ? What made you leave the house open ? Come on down with me, and I'll show you how to lock up." Down they went, and a careful scrutiny demon- strated that everything was fast. " I don't believe there was anybody there," said Mrs. Spoopendyke, as they returned to their chamber. "It wasn't your fault," retorted Mr. Spoopendyke. SELECTIONS. 279 "If you'd got up when I told you and kept your mouth shut, we'd have got 'em." " But you said for me " " Didn't say anything of the sort ! " howled Mr. Spoopendyke ; " never mentioned your name. We might have been killed, the way you went to work." " I think we'd caught them if they'd been there," said Mrs, Spoopendyke, taking down her hair and pro- ceeding to put it up again. "You'd caught 'em," sneered Mr. Spoopendyke. "Another time a burgler gets into the house you stay abed, and don't you wake me up again. I won't have any cowardly, fussy woman routing me out this time of night, ye hear ? " " Yes, dear," and Mrs. Spoopendyke wound her hand in the collar of her liege lord's shirt and went to sleep, secure in his protection. UNCLE TOM AND THE HOENETS. There is an old woman down town who delights to find a case that all the doctors have failed to cure and then go to work with herbs and roots and strange things and try to effect at least an improvement. A few days ago she got hold of a girl with a stiff neck, and she offered an old negro named Uncle Tom Kelly fifty cents to go to the woods and bring her a hornet's nest. This was to be steeped in vinegar and applied to the neck. The old man spent several days along the Holden road, and yesterday morning he secured his prize and brought it home in a basket. When he reached the Central Market he had a few little purcha- ses to make, and after getting some few articles at a grocery, he placed his basket on a barrel near the stove and went out to look for a beef bone. It was a dull day for trade. The grocer sat by the stove rubbing his bald head. His clerk stood at the 280 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. desk balancing accounts, and three or four men lounged around talking about the new party that is to be found- ed on the ruins of the falling ones. It was a serene hour. One hundred and fifty hornets had gone to roost in that nest for the winter. The genial atmosphere began to limber them up. One old veteran opened his eyes, rubbed his legs, and said it was the shortest win- ter he had ever known in all his hornet days. A sec- ond shook off his lethargy and seconded the motion, and in five minutes the whole nest was alive and its owners were ready to sail out and investigate. You don't have to hit a hornet with the broadside of an ax to make him mad. He's mad all over all the time, and he doesn't care a picayune whether he tackles a humming-bird or an elephant. The grocer was telling one of the men that he and General Grant were boys together, when he gave a sud- den start of surprise. This was followed by several other starts. Then he jumped over a barrel of sugar and yelled like a Pawnee. Some smiled, thinking he was after a funny climax, but it was only a minute be- fore a solemn old farmer jumped three feet high and came down to roll over a job lot of washboards. TheD the clerk ducked his head and made a rush for the door. He didn't get there. One of the other men who had been looking up and down to see what could be the matter, felt suddenly called upon to go home. He was going at the rate of forty miles an hour when he collided with the clerk, and they rolled on the floor. There was no use to tell the people in that store to move on. They couldn't tarry to save 'em. They all felt that the rent was too high, and that they must va- cate the premises. A yell over by the cheese box was answered by a war-whoop from the showcase. A howl from the kerosene barrel near the back door was an- swered by wild gestures around the show window. The crowd went out together. Uncle Tom was just coming in with his beef bone. When a larger body SELECTIONS. 281 meets a smaller one, the larger body knocks it into the middle of next week. The old man lay around in the slush until everybody had stepped on him all they wanted to, and then he sat up and asked : "Hev dey got the fiah all put out yit?" Some of the hornets sailed out of doors to fall by the wayside, and the others waited around on tops of bar- rels and baskets and jars to be slaughtered. It was half an hour before the last one was disposed of, and then Uncle Tom walked in, picked up the nest, and said : " Mebbe dis will cure the stiffness in dat gaFs neck jist the same, but I tell you I'ze got banged, an' bumped, an' sot down on till it will take a hull medi- cal college all winter long to git me so I kin jump off a street kyar ! " — Detroit Free Press. THE BELLS OF SHANDON. With deep affection And recollection I often think of Those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would, In the days of childhood, Fling round my cradle Their magic spells. On this I ponder Where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork, of thee, — With thy bells of Shandon. That sound so grand, on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee. I've heard bells chiming Full many a clime in, Tolling sublime in Cathedral shrine ; While at a glib rate Brass tongues would vibrate; But all their music Spoke naught like thine. 282 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. For memory, dwelling On each pround swelling Of thy belfry, knelling Its bold notes free, Made the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand, on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee. I've heard bells tolling Old Adrian's Mole in, Their thunder rolling From the Vatican ; And cymbals glorious Swinging uprorious In the gorgeous turrets Of Notre Dame ; But thy sounds were sweeter Than the dome of Peter Flings o'er the Tiber, Pealing solemnly. O ! the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand, on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee. There's a bell in Moscow ; While on tower and kiosk O In Saint Sophia The Turkman gets, And loud in air Calls men to prayer, From the tapering summits Of tall minarets. Such empty phantom I freely grant them ; But there's an anthem More dear to me ; 'Tis the bells of Shandon, That sounds so grand, on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee. - Francis Mahony. SELECTIONS. 283 THE FEECKLED-FACED GIEL. HOW SHE ENTERTAINED A VISITOR. WHELE HER MA WAS DRESSING. " Ma's up-stairs changing her dress," said the freck- led-faced little girl, tying her doll's bonnet-strings and casting her eye about for a tidy large enough to serve as a shawl for that double-jointed young person. u Oh ! your mother needn't dress up for me," replied the female agent of the missionary society, taking a self-satisfied view of herself in the mirror. " Eun up and tell her to come down just as she is in her every- day clothes, and not stand on ceremony." " Oh ! but she hasn't got on her everyday clothes. Ma was all dressed up in her new brown silk, 'cause she expected Miss Dimmond to-day. Miss Dimmond always comes over here to show off her nice things, and ma don't mean to get left. When ma saw you coming, she said, ' The Dickens ! ' and I guess she was mad about something. Ma said if you saw her new dress she'd have to hear all about the poor heathen, who don't have silk, and you'd ask her for more money to buy hymn-books to send 'em. Say, do the nigger ladies use hymn-book leaves to do their hair up and make it frizzy? Ma says she guesses that's all the good the books do 'em, if they ever get any books. I wish my doll was a heathen ! " " Why, you wicked little girl, what do you want of a heathen doll?" inquired the missionary lady, taking a mental inventory of the new things in the parlor to get material for a homily on worldly extravagance. " So folks would send her lots of nice things to wear, and feel sorry to have her going about naked. I aint a wicked girl, either, 'cause Uncle Dick — you. know Uncle Dick, he's been out West, and he says I'm a holy terror, and he hopes I'll be an angel pretty soon. Ma'll be down in a minute, so you needn't take your «loak off. She said she'd box my ears if I asked you 284 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. to. Ma's putting on that old dress she had last year, 'cause she said she didn't want you to think she was able to give much this time, and she needed a new muff worse than the queen of the cannon ball islands needed religion. Uncle Dick says you ought to go to the islands, 'cause you'd be safe there, and the natifs'd be sorry they was such sinuers anybody would send you to 'em. He says he never seen a heathen hungry enough to eat you, 'less 'twas a blind one, and you'd set a blind pagan's teeth on edge so he'd never hanker after any more missionary. Uncle Dick's awful funny, and makes pa and ma die laughing sometimes." " Your Uncle Richard is a bad, depraved man, and ought to have remained out West, where his style is appreciated. He sets a bad example for little girls like you." " Oh ! I think he's nice. He showed me how to slide down the banisters, and he's teaching me to whis- tle when ma aint round. That's a pretty cloak you've got, aint it ? Do you buy all your good clothes with mis- sionary money? Ma says you do." Just then the freckled-faced little girl's ma came into the parlor and kissed the missionary lady on the cheek, and said she was delighted to see her, and they pro- ceeded to have a real sociable chat. The little girl's ma can't understand why a person who professes to be so charitable as the missionary agent does, should go right over to Miss Dimmond's and say such ill-natured things as she did, and she thinks the missionary is a double-faced gossip. — Boston Globe, COURTSHIP UNDER DIFFICULTIES. Snobbleton solus. Snobbleton. — Yes, there is that fellow Jones again. I declare, the man is ubiquitous. Wherever I go with my cousin Prudence we stumble across him, or he fol- SELECTIONS. 285 lows her like her shadow. Do we take a boating, so does Jones. Do we wander on the beach, so does Jones. Go where we will, that fellow follows or moves before. Now that was a cruel practical joke which Jones once played upon me at college. I have never for- given him. But I would gladly make a pretense of doing so if I could have my revenge. Let me see. Can't I manage it ? He is head over ears in love with Prudence, but too bashful to speak. I half believe she is not indifferent to him, though altogether unac- quainted. It may prove a match if I can not spoil it. Let me think. Ha ! I have it. A brilliant idea ! Jones, beware ! But here he comes. Enter Jones. Jones. — (Not seeing Snobbleton, and delightedly con- templating a flower which he holds in his hand.) Oh, rapture! what a prize! It was in her hair; I saw it fall from her queenly head. (Kisses it every now and then.) How warm are its tender leaves from having touched her neck ! How doubly sweet is its perfume — fresh from the fragrance of her glorious locks ! How beautiful ! how— Bless me, here is Snobbleton, and we are enemies ! Snob. — Good morning, Jones — that is, if you will shake hands. Jones. — What ! you — you forgive ? You really — Snob. — Yes, yes, old fellow ! All is forgotten. You played me a rough trick ; but let bygones be bygones. Will you not bury the hatchet? Jones. — With all my heart, my dear fellow ! Snob. — What is the matter with you, Jones? You look quite grumpy — not by any means the same cheer- ful, dashing, rollicking fellow you were. Jones. — Bless me, you don't say so ! (Aside.) Con- found the man ! Here have I been endeavoring to appear romantic for the last month — and now to be called grumpy — it is unbearable ! 286 TEN" WEEKS IN ELOCUTION". Snob. — But never mind. Cheer up, old fellow! I see it all. I know what it is to be in — Jones. — Ah ! you can then sympathize with me. You know what it is to be in — Snob. — Of course I do ! Heaven preserve me from the toils ! And then the letters — the interminable let- lers! Jones— Oh, yes, the letters! the billet-doux ! Snob.— And the bills — the endless bills ! Jones,— The bills ! Snob.— Yes ; and the bailiffs, the lawyers, the judge, and the jury. Jones.— Why, man, what are you talking about ? J thought you said you knew what it was to be in — Snob. — In debt. To be sure I did. Jones. — Bless me ! I'm not in debt — never borrowed a dollar in my life. Ah me ! it's worse than that. Snob. — Worse than that ! Come, now, Jones, there is only one thing worse. You're surely not in love? Jones. — Yes I am. Oh, Snobby, help me, help me ! Let me confide in you. Snob.— -Confide in me ! Certainly, my dear fellow. See ! I do not shrink — I stand firm. Jones.— Snobby, I — I love her. Snob.— Whom ? Jones.— -Your cousin Prudence. Snob.— Ha! Prudence Angelina Winter? Jones,— Now don't be angry, Snobby ; I don't mean any harm, you know. I — I — you know how it is. Snob. — Harm ! my dear fellow. Not a bit of it. Angry ! Not at all. You have my consent, old fel- low. Take her. She is yours. Heaven bless you both. Jo7ies«— You are very kind, Snobby, but I haven't got her consent yet. Snob.— Well, that is something, to be sure. But leave it ail to me. She may be a little coy, you know ; SELECTIONS. 287 but, considering your generous overlooking of her un- fortunate defect — Jones. — Defect ! You surprise me. Snob. — What! and you did not know it? Jones. — Not at all. I am astonished ! Nothing se- rious, I hope. Snob, — Oh no ; only a little— (-He taps his ear with his finger knowingly.) I see you understand it. Jones. — Merciful heaven! can it be? But, really, is it serious ? Snob.— I should think it was. Jones. — What! But is she ever dangerous? Snob. — Dangerous ! Why should she be ? Jones, — Oh, I perceive. A mere airiness of brain- — a gentle aberration — scorning the dull world — a mild— Snob. — Zounds! man, she's not crazy! Jones. — My dear Snobby, you relieve me. What then? Snob.— Slightly deaf— that's all. Jones. — Deaf! Snob. — As a lamp-post. That is, you must elevate your voice to a considerable pitch in speaking to her. Jones. — Is it possible? However, I think I can manage. As, for instance, if it was my intention to make her a floral offering, and I should say (elevating his voice considerably), " Miss, will you make me happy by accepting these flowers?" I suppose she could hear me, eh ? How would that do ? Snob. — Pshaw ! Do you call that elevated ? Jones. — Well, how would this do? (Speaks very loudly.) "Miss, will you make me happy — " Snob. — Louder, shriller, man ! Jones. — " Miss, will you — " Snob. — Louder, louder, or she will only see your lips move. Jones. — (Almost screaming). "Miss, will you oblige me by accepting these flowers ? " Snob,— 'There, that may do. Still, you want prac- 288 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. tice. I perceive the lady herself is approaching. Sup- pose you retire for a short time, and I will prepare her for the introduction. Jones. — Very good. Meantime I will go down to the beach, and endeavor to acquire the proper pitch. Let me see : " Miss, will you oblige me — " [Exit Jones. Enter Prudence. Prudence.— Good morning, cousin. Who was that speaking so loudly ? Snob.— Only Jones. Poor fellow, he is so deaf that I suppose he fancies his own voice to be a mere whisper. Pru.— Why, I was not aware of this. Is he very deaf? Snob.-— Deaf as a stone fence. To be sure, he does not use an ear-trumpet any more, but one must speak excessively high. Unfortunate, too, for I believe he's in love. Pru.— In love! with whom? Snob.— Can't you guess ? Pru.— Oh, no ; I haven't the slightest idea. Snob.— -With yourself! He has been begging me to obtain him an introduction. Pru.— Well, I have always thought him a nice look- ing young man. I suppose he would hear me if I should say (speaks loudly) "Good morning, Mr. Jones?" Snob. — Do you think he would hear thatf" Pru.— Well, then, how would (speaks very loudly) "Good morning, Mr. Jones?" How would that do? Snob. — Tush ! he would think you were speaking un- der your breath. Pru. — (Almost screaming.) "Good morning ?" Snob. — A mere whisper, my dear cousin. But here he comes. Now do try and make yourself audible. Enter Jones. Snob* — (Speaking in a high voice.) Mr. Jones, cousin* SELECTIONS. 289 Miss Winter, Jones. You will please excuse me for a short time. (He retires, but remains where he can view the speakers?) Jones. — {Speaking in a loud orotund voice.) Miss, will you accept these flowers ? I plucked them from their slumber on the hill. Pru.- — (In a high falsetto voice.) Really sir, I — I — » Jones. — (Aside.) She hesitates. It must be that she does not hear me. (Increasing his tone.) Miss, will you accept these flowers — flowers ? I plucked them sleep- ing on the hill — hill. Pru.— (Also increasing her tone.) Certainly, Mr. Jones. They are beautiful — beau-u-tiful. Jones. — (Aside.) How she screams in my ear. (Aloud.) Yes, I plucked them from their slumber — slumber, on the hill — hill. Pru. — (Aside.) Poor man, what an effort it seems for him to speak. (Aloud.) I perceive you are poeti- cal. Are you fond of poetry ? ( Aside.) He hesitates. I must speak louder. (In a scream.) Poetry — Poetry —POETRY ! Jones. — (Aside.) Bless me, the woman would wake the dead ! (Aloud.) Yes, miss, I ad-o-r-e it. Snob.— Glorious ! glorious ! I wonder how loud they can scream. Oh, vengeance, thou art sweet ! Pru,- — Can you repeat some poetry— poetry ? JoneSo—1 only know one poem. It is this : You'd scarce expect one of my age — Age, To speak in public on the stage — Stage. Pru.— Bravo ! bravo ! Jones.— Thank you ! Thank — Pru. — Mercy on us ! Do you think I'm deaf, sir? Jones. — And do you fancy me deaf, miss ? (Natural tone.) Pru.— Are you not, sir ! You surprise me ! 19 290 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Jones. — No, miss. I was led to believe that you were deaf. Snobbleton told me so. Pru. — Snobbleton ! Why, he told me that you were deaf. Jones. — Confound the fellow ! he has been making game of us. THE WESTERN SCHOOLMA'AM. Not bashful nor yet overbold, And only twenty-two, With hair like threads of gleaming gold. With eyes of azure blue, With little hands, with pretty face Just tanned a healthy brown, She is the daisy of the place The flower of all the town. The village boys when she goes by Can scarcely speak or stir, She is the object of each eye — They fairly worship her. Like some sweet fairy sprite she seems A breath might blow away, The spirit of their midnight dreams, Their idol all the day. She draws them to the village church Far more than sermon strong: With anxious eyes the choir they search, They look at her and long; And when with splendid voice she sings They lose their heads in love, Their feverish fancies float on wings Beyond the clouds above. Her soul is like a sparkling brook That babbles on its way Through sunny field, through shady nook, By banks with blossoms gay. All day at school with patient grace She rules the noisy crowd, Then homeward walks with happy face And soul without a cloud. In simple hat of plaited straw, In tasteful muslin gown, Her pretty face and form I saw While passing through the town j SELECTIONS. 291 I watched her while she sweetly smiled When children were dismissed; I wished I were once more a child, A cherub to be kissed. — From "Away Out West" by Eugene J. Hall HOW WE HUNTED A MOUSE. I was dozing comfortably in my easy chair, and dreaming of the good times which I hope are coming, when there fell upon my ears a most startling scream. It was the voice of my Maria Ann in agony. The voice came from the kitchen, and to the kitchen I rushed. The idolized form of my Maria was perched on a chair, and she was flourishing an iron spoon in all directions, and shouting "shoo," in a general manner at everything in the room. To my anxious inquiries as to what was the matter, she screamed, " O, Joshua ! a mouse, shoo — wha — shoo — a great — ya — shoo — hor- rid mouse, and — she — ew — it ran right out of the cup- board—shoo — go way — Oh, mercy ! — Joshua — shoo — kill it, oh my, shoo." All that fuss, you see, about one little, harmless mouse. Some women are so afraid of mice. Maria is. I got the poker and set myself to poke that mouse, and my wife jumped down and ran off into another room. I found the mouse in the corner under the sink. The first time I hit it, I didn't poke it any on account of getting the poker all tangled up in a lot of dishes in the sink; and I did not hit it any more because the mouse would not stay still. It ran right toward me, and I naturally jumped, as anybody would, but I am not afraid of mice, and when the horrid thing ran up inside the leg of my pantaloons, I yelled to Maria because I was afraid it would gnaw a hole in my gar- ment. There is something real disagreeable about having a mouse inside the leg of one's pantaloons, es- pecially if there is nothing between you and the mouse. 292 TEN WEEKS IN" ELOCUTIOX. Its toes are cold, and its nails are scratchy, and its fur tickles, and its tail feels crawly, and there is nothing pleasant about it, and you are all the time afraid it will try to gnaw out, and begin on you instead of the cloth. That mouse was next to me. I could feel its every motion with startling and suggestive distinct- ness. For these reasons I yelled to Maria, and as the case seemed urgent to me, I may have yelled with a certain degree of vigor, but I deny that I yelled fire, and if I catch the boy who thought that I did, I shall inflict punishment on his person. I did not lose my presence of mind for an instant. I caught the mouse just as it was clambering over my knee, and by pressing it firmly on the outside of the cloth, I kept the animal a prisoner on the inside. I kept jumping around with all my might to confuse it, so that it would not think about biting, and I yelled so that the mice would not hear its squeaks and come to its assistance. A man can't handle many mice at once to advantage. Maria was white as a sheet when she came into the kitchen, and asked what she should do — as though I could hold a mouse and plan a campaign at the same time. I told her to think of something, and she thought she could throw things at the intruder; but as there was no earthly chance for her to hit the mouse, while every shot took effect on me, I told her to stop, after she had tried two flat-irons and the coal-scuttle. She paused for breath ; but I kept bobbing around. Somehow I felt no inclination to sit down anywhere. " Oh, Joshua," she cried, "I wish you had not killed the cat." Now, I submit that the wish was born of the weakness of woman's intellect. How on earth did she suppose a cat could get where that mouse was? — rather have a mouse there alone, anyway, than to have a cat prowling around after it. I reminded Maria of the fact that she was a fool. Then she got the tea- kettle and wanted to scald the mouse. I objected to SELECTIONS. 293 that process, except as a last resort. Then she got some cheese to coax the mouse down, but I did not dare to let go for fear he would run up. Matters were getting desperate. I told her to think of something else, and I kept jumping. Just as I was ready to faint with exhaustion, I tripped over an iron, lost my hold, and the mouse fell to the floor very dead. I had no idea that a mouse could be squeezed to death so easy. This was not the end of trouble, for before I had recovered my breath a fireman broke in one of the front windows, and a whole company followed him through, and they dragged hose around and mussed things all over the house, and then the foreman wanted to thrash me because the house was not on fire, and I had hardly got him pacified before a policeman came in and arrested me. Some one had run down and told him I was drunk and was killing Maria. It was all Maria and I could do, by combining our eloquence, to prevent him from marching me off in disgrace, but we finally got matters quieted and the house clear. Now, when mice run out of the cupboard I go out doors, and let Maria "shoo " them back again. I can kill a mouse, but the fun don't pay for the trouble. — Joshua, Jenkins. A TKIAL OF ENDUEANCE. "My dear," queried Mr. Spoopendyke, "did you put those oysters on the cellar floor with the round shells down, as I told you to?" "I did most of 'em/' replied Mrs. Spoopendyke. "Some of 'em wouldn't stay that way. They turned right over." "Must have been extraordinary intelligent oysters ! " muttered Mr. Spoopendyke, eying her with suspicion. "Didn't any of 'em stand up on end and ask for the morning paper, did they ? " 294 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. "You know what I mean," fluttered Mrs. Spoopen- dyke. " They tipped over sideways, and so I laid them on the flat shell." "That's right," grunted Mr. Spoopendyke. "You want to give an oyster his own way, or you'll hurt his feelings. Suppose you bring us some of those gifted oysters and an oyster knife, and we'll eat 'em." Mrs. Spoopendyke hurried away and pattered back with the feast duly set out on a tea waiter, which she placed before Mr. Spoopendyke with a flourish, "Now," said she, drawing up her sewing-chair, and resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands, "when you get all you want you may open me some." Mr. Spoopendyke whirled the knife around his head and brought it down with a sharp crack. Then he clipped away at the end for a moment, and jabbed at what he supposed was the opening. The knife slipped and plowed the bark off his thumb. "Won't come open, will ye?" he snorted, fetching it another lick, and jabbing away again. " Haven't completed your census of who's out here working at ye, have ye?" and he brought it another whack. "P'raps ye think I haven't fully made up my mind to call within, don't ye?" and he rammed the point of the knife at it, knocking the skin off his knuckle. "That isn't the way to open an oyster," suggested Mrs. Spoopendyke. " Look here," roared Mr. Spoopendyke, turning fiercely on his wife, " have you got any private under- standing with this oyster? Has the oyster confided in you the particular way in which he wants to be opened ? " " No-o ! " stammered Mrs. Spoopendyke. " Only I thought " " This is no time for thought ! " shouted Mr. Spoop- endyke, banging away at the edge of the shell. "This is the moment for battle, and if I've happened to SELECTIONS. 295 catch this oyster during office hours, he's going to en- ter into relations with the undersigned. Come out, will ye ? " he yelled, as the knife flew up his sleeve. " Maybe ye don't recognize the voice of Spoopendyke. Come out, ye dod gasted coward, before ye make an enemy of me' for life ! " and he pelted away at the shell with the handle of the knife, and spattered mud like a dredging machine. " Let me get you a hammer to crack him with," recommended Mrs, Spoopendyke, hovering over her husband in great perturbation. "Don't want any hammer!" howled Mr. Spoopen- dyke, slamming around with his knife. " S'pose I'm going to use brute force on a dod gasted fish that I could swallow alive if I could only get him out of his house? Open your measly premises!" raved Mr. Spoopendyke, stabbing at the oyster vindictively, and slicing his shirt sleeve clear to the elbow. " Come forth and enjoy the society of Spoopendyke ! " and the worthy gentleman foamed at the mouth as he sank back in his chair and contemplated his stubborn foe with glaring eyes. " I'll tell you what to do ! " exclaimed Mrs. Spoop- endyke, radiant with a profound idea. "Crack him in )he door." "That's the scheme!" grinned Mr. Spoopendyke, with horrible contortions of visage. "Fetch me the door. Set that door right before me on a plate. This oyster is going to stay here. If you think this oyster is going to enjoy any change of climate until he strikes the tropics of Spoopendyke, you don't know the do- mestic habits of shell-fish. Loose your hold ! " squealed Mr. Spoopendyke, returning to the charge, and fetch- ing the bivalve a prodigious whack. " Come out and let me introduce you to my wife;" and Spoopendyke laid the oyster on the arm of his chair and slugged him remorselessly. " Wait ! " squealed Mrs. Spoopendyke, " here is one 296 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. with his mouth open ! " and she pointed cautiously at a gaping oyster who had evidently taken down the shutters to see what the row was about. "Don't care a dod gasted nickle with a hole in it ! " protested Mr. Spoopendyke, thoroughly impatient. " Here's one that's going to open his mouth, or the resurrection will find him still wrestling with the os- tensible head of his family. Ow ! " and Mr. Spoopen- dyke, having rammed the knife into the palm of his hand, slammed the oyster against the chimney-piece, where it was shattered, and danced around the room, wriggling with wrath and agony. "Never mind the oyster, dear," cried Mrs. Spoopen- dyke, following him around and trying to disengage his wounded hand from his armpit. "Who's minding 'em?" roared Mr. Spoopendyke, standing on one leg and bending up double. "I tell ye that when I start to inflict discipline on a narrow- minded oyster that won't either accept an invitation or send regrets, he's going to mind me ! Where's the oyster? Show me the oyster. Arraign the oyster." "Upon my word you've opened him," giggled Mrs. Spoopendyke, picking up the smashed bivalve between the tips of her thumb and forefinger. "Won't have him ! " sniffed Mr. Spoopendyke, eye- ing the broken shell and firing his defeated enemy into the grate. "If I can't go in the front door of an oys- ter, I'm not going down the scuttle ! That all comes of laying 'em on the flat shell," he continued, suddenly recollecting that his wife was to blame for the whole business. "Now you take the rest of 'em down and ]ay 'em as I told you to." "Yes, dear." " And another time you want any oysters, you sit around in the cellar, and when they open their mouths you put sticks in. You hear?" " Yes, dear." And Mrs. Spoopendyke took the bivalves back, re- SELECTIONS. 297 solving that the next time they were in demand they would crawl out of their shells and walk up stairs arm in arm before she would have any hand in the mutila- tion of her poor, dear, suffering husband by bringing them up herself. — Brooklyn Eagle. HOW "KUBY" PLAYED. Jud Brownin, when visiting New York, goes to hear Rubinstein, and gives the following description of his playing : Well, sir, he had the blamedest, biggest, catty-cor- nedest pianner you ever laid eyes on ; somethin' like a distracted billiard-table on three legs. The lid was hoisted, and mighty well it was. If it hadn't been he'd a tore the entire insides clean out, and scattered 'em to the four winds of heaven. Play wellf You bet he did ; but don't interrupt me. When he first sit down, he 'peared to keer mighty little 'bout playin', and wisht he hadn't come. He tweedle-leedle'd a little on the treble, and twoodle- oodled some on the base — -just foolin' and boxin' the thing's jaws for bein' in his way. And I says to a man settin' next to me, says I: "What sort of fool playin' is that?" And he says, "Heish!" But presently his hands commenced chasin' one another up and down the keys, like a passel of rats scamperin' through a garret very swift. Parts of it was sweet, though, and reminded me of a sugar squirrel turnin' the wheel of a candy cage. "Now," says I to my neighbor, "he's shown' off. He thinks he's a-doin' of it, but he ain't got no idee, no plan of nothin'. If he play me a tune of some kind or other I'd " But my neighbor says " Heish ! " very impatient. I was just about to git up and go home, bein' tired of that foolishness, when I heard a little bird waking 298 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. up away off in the woods, and call sleepy-like to his mate, and I looked up and see that Rubin was begin- ning to take some interest in his business, and I sit down again. It was the peep of day The light came faint from the east, the breezes blowed gentle and fresh, some more birds waked up in the orchard, then some more in the trees near the house, and all begun singin' together. People began to stir, and the gal opened the shutters. Just then the first beam of the sun fell upon the blossoms a leetle more, and it techt the roses on the bushes^ and the next thing it was broad day ; the sun fairly blazed, the birds sung like they'd split their little throats; all the leaves was moving and flashing diamonds of dew, and the whole wide world was bright and happy as a king. Seemed to me like there was a good breakfast in every house in the land, and not a sick child or woman anywhere. It was a fine mornin'. And I says to my neighbor : " That's music, that is." But he glared at me like he'd like to cut my throat. Presently the wind turned; it began to thicken up, and a kind of gray mist came over things ; I got low- spirited directly. Then a silver rain began to fall. I could see the drops touch the ground ; some flashed up like long pearl ear-rings, and the rest rolled away like round rubies. It was pretty but melancholy. Then the pearls gathered themselves into long strands and necklaces, and then they melted into thin silver streams, running between golden gravels, and then the streams joined each other at the bottom of the hill, and made a brook that flowed silent, except that you could kinder see the music, 'specially when the bushes on the banks moved as the music went along down the valley. I could smell the flowers in the meadow. But the sun didn't shine, nor the birds sing ; it was a foggy day, but not cold. The most curious thing was the little white angel- SELECTIONS. 299 boy, like you see in pictures, that run ahead of the music brook and led it on, and on, away out of the world, where no man ever was, certain. I could see that boy just as plain as I see you. Then the moon- light came, without any sunset, and shone on the grave- yards, where some few ghosts lifted their hands and went over the wall, and between the black, sharp-top trees splendid marble houses rose up, with fine ladies in the lighted-up windows, and men that loved 'era, but could never get a-nigh 'em, who played on guitars under the trees, and made me that miserable I could have cried, because I wanted to love somebody, I don't know who, better than the men with the guitars did. Then the sun went down, it got dark, the wind moaned and wept like a lost child for its dead mother, and I could a got up then and there and preached a better sermon than any I ever listened to. There wasn't a thing in the world left to live for, not a blame thing, and yet I didn't want the music to stop one bit. It was happier to be miserable than to be happy with- out being miserable. I couldn't understand it. I hung my head and pulled out my handkerchief, and bio wed my nose loud to keep me from cry in'. My eyes is weak any way ; I didn't want anybody to be a- gazin' at me a-sniv'lin', and it's nobody's business what I do with my nose. It's mine. But some several glared at me mad as blazes. Then, all of a sudden, old Rubin changed his tune. He ripped out and he rared, he tipped and he tared, he pranced and he charged like the grand entry at a circus. 'Peared to me that all the gas in the house was turned on at once, things got so bright, and I hilt up my head, ready to look any man in the face, and not afraid of nothin'. It was a circus, and a brass band, and a brass band and a big ball all goin' on at the same time. He lit into them keys like a thousand of brick ; he gave 'em no J^st day or night; he set every livin' joint in me a- 300 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. goin', and not bein' able to stand it no longer, I jumped, sprang onto my seat, and jest hollered: " Go it, my Rube ! " Every blamed man, woman, and child in the house riz on me, and shouted, " Put him out ! put him out ! " "Put your great-grandmother's grizzly gray green- ish cat into the middle of next month ! " I says. " Tetch me if you dare ! I paid my money, and you jest come a-nigh me ! " With that some several policemen run up, and I had to simmer down. But I would a fit any fool that laid hands on me, for I was bound to hear Ruby out or die. He had changed his tune again. He hop-light la- dies and tip-toed fine from end to end of the key- board. He played soft and low and solemn. I heard the church bells over the hills. The candles of heaven was lit, one by one ; I saw the stars rise. The great organ of eternity began to play from the world's end to the world's end, and all the angels went to prayers. * * * * Then the music changed to water, full of feeling that couldn't be thought and began to drop — drip, drop — drip, drop, clear and sweet, like tears of joy falling into a lake of glory. It was sweeter than that. It was as sweet as a sweetheart sweetened with white sugar mixt with powdered silver and seed dia- monds. It was too sweet. I tell you the audience cheered. Rubin he kinder bowed, like he wanted to say, " Much obleeged, but I'd rather you wouldn't in- terrup' me." He stopt a moment or two to ketch breath. Then he got mad. He run his fingers through his hair, he shoved up his sleeve, he opened his coat-tails a leetle further, he drug up his stool, he leaned over, and, sir, he just went for that old pianner. Pie slapt her face, he boxed her jaws, he pulled her nose, he pinched her ears, and he scratched her cheeks until she fairly yelled. She bellowed, she bleated like a calf, she howled like a hound, she squealed like a pig, she SELECTIONS. 301 shrieked like a rat, and then he wouldn't let her up. He run a quarter stretch down the low grounds of the base, till he got clean in the bowels of the earth, and you heard thunder galloping after thunder, through the hollows and caves of perdition ; and then he fox-chased his right hand with his left till he got way out of the treble into the clouds, whar the notes was finer than the pints of cambric needles, and you couldn't hear nothin' but the shadders of 'em. And then he wouldn't let the old pianner go. He far'ard two'd, he crost over first gentleman, he chassed right and left, back to your places, he all hands'd aroun', ladies to the right, prome- nade all, in and out, here and there, back and forth, up and down, perpetual motion, double twisted and turned and tacked and tangled into forty-eleven thousand double bow knots. By jinks! it was a mixtery. And then he wouldn't let the old pianner go. He fecht up his right wing, he fecht up his left wing, he fecht up his center, he fecht up his reserves. He fired by file, he fired by platoons, by company, by regiments, and by brigades. He opened his cannon — siege guns down thar, Napo- leons here, twelve-pounders yonder — big guns, little guns, middle-sized guns, round shot, shells, shrapnels, grape, canister, mortar, mines, and magazines, every livin' battery and bomb agoin' at the same time. The house trembled, the lights danced, the walls shuk, the floor come up, the ceilin' come down, the sky split, the ground rokt— heavens and earth, creation, sweet pota- toes, Moses, ninepences, glory, tenpenny nails, Samp- son in a 'simmon tree, Tump, Tompson in a tumbler- cart, roodle-oodle-oodle-oodle - — ruddle-uddle-uddle- uddle — raddle-addle-addle-addle — riddle-iddle-iddle- iddle — reedle-eedle-eedle-eedle — p-r-r-r-rlank ! Bang ! lang ! perlang ! p-r-r-r-r-r ! Bang ! ! ! With that bang! he lifted himself bodily into the a'r, and he come down with his knees, his ten fingers, his ten toes, his elbows, and his nose, striking every 302 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. single solitary key on the pianner at the same time. The thing busted and went off into seventeen hundred and fifty-seven thousand five hundred and forty-two hemi-demi-semi quivers, and I know'd no mo\ When I come to I were under ground about twenty foot, in a place they call Oyster Bay, treatin' a Yankee that I never laid eyes on before, and never expect to agin. Day was breakin* by the time I got to the St Nicholas Hotel, and I pledge you my word I did not know my name. The man asked me the number of my room, and I told him " Hot music on the half-sheli for two ! " SCENE FKOM HAMLET. Act III. Scene III. {Enter Queen and Poeonius.] Polonius. — He will come straight. Look, you lav home to hij* Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with; And that your grace hath screened and stood between Much heat and him. I'll sconce me even here. Pray you be round with him. Queen. — I'll warrant you — Fear me not. Withdraw, I hear him coming. {Polonius conceals himself behind the arras."] Hamlet. — Now, mother, what's the matter? Queen. — Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. Hamlet. — Mother, you have my father much offended. Queen.— Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue. Hamlet. — Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue. Queen. — Why, how now, Hamlet? Hamlet. — What's the matter now? Queen. — Have you forgot me ? Hamlet. — No, by the rood, not so : You are the queen : your husband's brother's wife ; And— would it were not so ! — you are my mother. Queen. — Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak. Hamlet. — Come, come, and sit you down ; you shall not budge. You go not till I set you up a glass Where you may see the inmost part of you. Queen.— What wilt thou do?— thou wilt not murder me? Hamlet. — Leave wringing of your hands : peace ; sit you down. And let me wring your heart : for so I shall SELECTIONS, 303 V If it be made of penetrable stuff; If damned custom have not brazed it so That it is proof and bulwark against sense. Queen. — What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue In noise so rude against me ? Hamlet. — Such an act, That blurs the grace and blush of modesty ; Calls virtue, hypocrite; takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love And sets a blister there ; makes marriage vows As false as dicers' oaths ! Oh, such a deed As from the body of contraction plucks The very soul ; and sweet religion makes A rhapsody of words. Heaven's face doth glow; Yea, this solidity and compound mass, With tristful visage, as against the doom, Is thought-sick at the act. Queen. — Ah me! what act, That roars so loud, and thunders in the index ? Hamlet. — Look here, upon this picture, and on this? The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See what a grace was seated on this brow : Hyperion's curls ; the front of Jove himself ; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the Herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man. This was your husband. Look you, now, what follows: Here is your husband; like a mildewed ear, Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes? You can not call it love, for at your age The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment ; and what judgment Would step from this to this ? Queen. — Oh, speak no more ! Thou turnest mine eyes into my very soul; And there I see such black and grained spots, As will not leave their tinct. Oh, speak to me no more ! These words like daggers, enter in mine ears; No more, sweet Hamlet ! Hamlet. — A murderer and a villain : A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe Of your precedent lord: — a vice of kings : A cut-purse of the empire and the rule ; That from a shelf the precious diadem stole And put it in his pocket ! 304 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Queen. — No more ! Hamlet. — A king Of shreds and patches; [Enter Ghost.] Save me and hover o'er me with your wings You heavenly guards ! What would your gracious figure? Queen. — Alas, he's mad ! Hamlet. — Do you not come your tardy son to chide, That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by The important acting of your dread command? Oh, say ! Ghost. — Do not forget ; this visitation Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. But, look! amazement on thy mother sits: Oh, step between her and her fighting soul; Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works : Speak to her, Hamlet. Hamlet— How is it with you, lady? Queen. — Alas ! how is't with you, That you do bend your eye on vacancy, And with the incorporeal air do hold discourse? Whereon do you look ? Hamlet. — On him ! on him ! Look you, how pale he glares. His form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones, Would make them capable. Do not look on me, Lest with this piteous action you convert My stern effects : then what I have to do Will want true color ; tears, perchance, for blood. Queen. — To whom do you speak this ? Hamlet. — Do you see nothing there? Queen. — Nothing at all ; yet all that is I see. Hamlet. — Nor did you nothing hear? Queen. — No, nothing, but ourselves. Hamlet — Why, look you there ! look, how it steals away ! My father, in his habit as he lived ! Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal ! [Exit GhosTo] Queen. — This is the very coinage of your brain. This bodiless creation ecstasy Is very cunning in. Hamlet — Ecstasy ! My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, And makes as healthful music. It is not madness That I have uttered : bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word, which madness Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespais, but my madness, speaks: It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, Whilst rank corruption, mining all within, Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven ; SELECTIONS. 305 Repent what's past; avoid what is to come; And do not spread the compost on the weeds To make them ranker. Queen. — O Hamlet ! thou hast cleft my heart in twain. Hamlet. — Oh, throw away the worser part of it And live the purer with the other half. Good-night: once more, good-night! And when you are desirous to be blest, I'll blessing beg of you. THE SHIP ON FIEE. There was joy in the ship, as she furrowed the foam; For fond hearts within her were dreaming of home. The young mother pressed fondly her 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 in the face of his bride. " O, happy ! " said he, " when our roaming is o'er, We'll dwell in a cottage that stands by the shore? Already, in fancy, its roof I descry, And the smoke of its hearth curling up to the sky ; Its garden so green, and its vine-covered wall, And the kind friends awaiting to welcome us all." Hark ! hark ! what was that? Hark ! hark to the shout!— "Fire/ fire ! " then a tramp and a rush and a rout, And an uproar of voices arose in the air. And the mother knelt down ; and the half-spoken prayer That she offered to God in her agony wild, Was, "Father, have mercy! look down on my child!" She flew to her husband, she clung to his side: O, there was her refuge, whatever betide ! Fire! fire! it is raging above and below; And the smoke and hot cinders all blindingly blow., The cheek of the sailor grew pale at the sight, And his eyes glistened wild in the glare of the light. The smoke, in thick wreathes, 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 ! They prayed for the light; and at noontide about, The sun o'er the waters shone joyously out. "A sail, ho ! a sail ! " cried the man on the lee ; "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 ! Thank heaven ! We are saved ! " 20 — Charles Mackay. 306 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. THE LITTLE HATCHET STOKY. WITH OCCASIONAL QUESTIONS BY A FIVE YEAR-OLD HEARER. And so, smiling, we went on. " Well, one day, George's father — " "George who?" asked Clarence. " George Washington. He was a little boy, then, just like you. One day his father — " " Whose father?" demanded Clarence, with an en= couraging expression of interest. " George Washington's ; this great man we are tell- ing you of. One day George Washington's father gave him a little hatchet for a — " "Gave who a little hatchet?" the dear child inter- rupted with a gleam of bewitching intelligence. Most men would have got mad, or betrayed signs of impa- tience, but we didn't. We know how to talk to chil- dren. So we went on : " George Washington. His — " "Who gave him the little hatchet?" " His father. And his father—" "Whose father?" " George Washington's." " Oh ! " "Yes, George Washington. And his father told him—" "Told who?" " Told George." " Oh, yes, George." And we went on, just as patient and as pleasant as you could imagine. We took up the story right where the boy interrupted, for we could see he was just crazy to hear the end of it. We said : " And he was told — " " George told him ? " queried Clarence. "]No, his father told George — " "Oh!" SELECTIONS. 307 "Yes; told him he must be careful with his hatchet—" "Who must be careful?" " George must." " Oh ! " " Yes ; must be careful with his hatchet—" "What hatchet?" "Why, George's." "Oh!" " With the hatchet, and not cut himself with it, or drop it in the cistern, or leave it out in the grass all night. So George went round cutting everything he could reach with his hatchet. And at last he came to a splendid apple tree, his father's favorite^ and cut it down and — " "Who cut it down?" " George did." " Oh ! " "But his father came home and saw it the first thing, and — " "Saw the hatchet?" " No, saw the apple-tree. And he said, [ Who has cut down my favorite apple-tree V " "What apple-tree?" " George's father's. And everybody said they didn't know anything about it, and—" " Anything about what?" " The apple-tree." " Oh ! " " And George came up and heard them talking about it-" " Heard who talking about it?" " Heard his father and the men." " What were they talking about?" " About this apple-tree," "What apple-tree?" " The favorite tree that George cut down " "George who?" 308 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. " George Washington." "Oh!" " So George came up and heard them talking about it, and he — " "What did he cut it down for?" " Just to try his little hatchet." "Whose little hatchet ?" " Why, his own, the one his father gave him." "Gave who?" " Why, George Washington." " Oh ! " " So George came up and he said, ( Father, I can not tell a lie I ' " "Who couldn't tell a lie?" " Why, George Washington. He said, ' Father, I can not tell a lie. It was — ' " " His father couldn't." " Why, no ; George couldn't." "Oh! George? oh, yes!" "'It was I cut down your apple-tree : I did — ,w "His father did?" " No, no ; it was George said this." "Said he cut his father?" " No, no, no ; said he cut down his apple-tree." " George's apple-tree ? " " No, no ; his father's." " Oh ! " " He said—" "His father said?" " No, no, no ; George said : ( Father, I can not tell a lie, I did it with my little hatchet.' And his father said : ' Noble boy, I would rather lose a thousand trees than have you tell a lie.' " "George did?" "No, his father said that." "Said he'd rather have a thousand apple-trees?" " No, no, no ; said he'd rather lose a thousand apple- trees than — " SELECTIONS. 309 "Said he'd rather George would ?" " No, said he'd rather he would than have him lie." " Oh ! George would rather have his father lie?" We are patient, and we love children, but if Mrs. Caruthers hadn't come and got her prodigy at that critical juncture, we don't believe all Burlington could have pulled us out of the snarl. And as Clarence Alencon de Marchemont Caruthers pattered down the stairs we heard him telling his ma about a boy who had a father named George, and he told him to cut down an apple-tree, and he said he'd rather tell a thousand lies than cut down one apple-tree. — Burlington Hawheye, THE MONEYLESS MAN. Is there no secret place on the face of the earth Where charity dwelleth, where virtue has birth, "Where bosoms in mercy and kindness will heave, When the poor and the wretched shall ask and receive? Is there no place at all, where a knock from the poor Will bring a kind angel to open the door? Oh ! search the wide world, wherever you can, There is no open door for a moneyless man. Go, look in yon hall where the chandelier's light Drives off with its splendor the darkness of night; Where the rich hanging velvet, in shadowy fold, Sweeps gracefully down with its trimmings of gold ; And the mirrors of silver take up and renew, In long-lighted vistas, the wildering view, Go there at the banquet, and find, if you can, A welcoming smile for a moneyless man. Go, look in yon church of the cloud-reaching spire, Which gives to the sun his same look of red fire ; Where the arches and columns are gorgeous within, And the walls seem as pure as a soul without sin ; Walk down the long aisles ; see the rich and the great In the pomp and the pride of their. wordly estate; Walk down in your patches, and find, if you can, Who opens a pew for a moneyless man. Go, look in the banks, where Mammon has told His hundreds and thousands of silver and gold ; 310 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Where, safe, from the hands of the starving and poor Lie piles upon piles of the glittering ore; Walk up to their counters — ah! there you may stay Till your limbs shall grow old and your hair shall grow gray. And you'll find at the bank not one of the clan With money to lend to a moneyless man. Go, look to your judge, in his dark, flowing gown, With the scales wherein law weigheth equity down; Where he frowns on the weak and smiles on the strong And punishes right whilst he justifies wrong; Where juries their lips to the Bible have laid To render a verdict they've already made ; Go there in the court-room and find if you can Any law for the cause of a moneyless man. Then go to your hovel — no raven has fed The wife that has suffered too long for her bread; Kneel down by her pallet and kiss the death-frost From the lips of the angel your poverty lost ; Then turn in your agony upward to God And bless, while it smites you, the chastening rod; And you'll find at the end of your life's little span, There's a " welcome " above for — a moneyless man. — H. T. Stanton. THE BALD-HEADED MAN. The other day a lady, accompanied by her son, a very small boy, boarded a train at Little Rock. The woman had a careworn expression hanging over her face like a tattered veil, and many of the rapid ques- tions asked by the boy were answered by unconscious sighs. " Ma," said the boy, " that man's like a baby, ain't he?" pointing to a bald-headed man sitting just irL front of them. "Hush!" "Why must I hush?" After a few moments' silence: "Ma, what's the matter with that man's head ? " " Hush, I tell you. He's bald." . "What's bald?" " His head hasn't got any hair on it." SELECTIONS. 31 3 "Did it come off?" " I guess so." "Will mine come off?" " Some time, maybe." "Then I'll be bald, won't I?" " Yes." "Will you care?" " Don't ask so many questions." After another silence, the boy exclaimed : " Ma, look at that fly on that man's head." " If you don't hush, I'll whip you when you get home." " Look ! There's another fly. Look at 'em fight ; look at 'em ! " " Madam," said the man, putting aside a newspaper and looking around, " what's the matter with that young hyena?" The woman blushed, stammered out something, and attempted to smooth back the boy's hair. " One fly, two flies, three flies," said the boy inno- cently, following with his eyes a basket of oranges carried by a newsboy. " Here, you young hedgehog," said the bald-headed man, " if you don't hush, I'll have the conductor put you off the train." The poor woman, not knowing what else to do. boxed the boy's ears, and then gave him an orange to keep him from crying. " Ma, have I got red marks on my head ? " "I'll whip you again if you don't hush." " Mister," said the boy, after a short silence, " does it hurt to be bald-headed ? " " Youngster," said the man, " if you'll keep quiet, I'll give you a quarter." The boy promised, and the money was paid over. The man took up his paper, and resumed his read- ing. "This is my bald-headed money," said the boy. 312 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. "When I get bald-headed, I'm goin' to give boys money. Mister, have all bald-headed men got money ?" The annoyed man threw down his paper, arose, and exclaimed: "Madam, hereafter when you travel, leave that young gorilla at home. Hitherto, I always thought that the old prophet was very cruel for calling the bears to kill the children for making sport of his head, but now I am forced to believe that he did a Christian act. If your boy had been in the crowd he would have died first. If I can J t find another seat on this train, I'll ride on the cow-catcher rather than re- main here." "The bald-headed man is gone," said the boy; and as the woman leaned back a tired sigh escaped from her lips. — Little Rock Gazette. OUR FOLKS. ;TEN- WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. dead, he yet speaketh. Is Washington dead? Is Hampden dead ? Is David dead ? Is any man that ever was fit to live dead? Disenthralled of flesh, and risen in the obstructed sphere where pas- sion never comes, he begins his illimitable work. His life now is grafted upon the infinite, and will be fruitful as no earthly can be. Pass on, thou that hast overcome ! Your sorrows, people, are his peace! Your bells, and bands, and muffled drums sound triumph in his ear. Wail and weep here; God makes its echo joy and triumph there. Pass on ! Four years ago, Illinois ! we took from your midst an untried man, and from among the people. We return him to you a mighty conqueror. Not thine any more, but the nation's; not ours, but the world's. Give him place, O ye prairies ! In the midst of this great continent his dust shall rest, a sacred treasure to myriads who shall pilgrim to that shrine to kindle anew their zeal and patriot- ism. Ye winds that move over the mighty places of the West, chant his requiem ! Ye people, be- hold a martyr whose blood, as so many articulate words, pleads for fidelity, for law, for liberty. — H. W. Beecher. FARM- YARD SONG. Over the hill the farm boy goes ; His shadow lengthens along the land, A giant staff in giant hand ; In the poplar-tree above 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' ! " Farther, farther over the hill, Faintly calling, calling still — " Co', boss 1 co', boss ! co' ! co' ! " SELECTIONS. 375 Into the yard the farmer goes, With grateful heart, at the close of day ; Harness and chain are hung away ; In the wagon shed stand yoke and plow; The straw 's in the stack, the hay in the mow ; The cooling dews are filing; 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' ! n While still the cow-boy, far away, Goes seeking those that have gone astray — " Co', boss ! co', boss ! co' ! co' ! " Now to her task the milkmaid goes ; The cattle come crowding through the gate, Lowing, pushing, little and great; About the trough, by the farm-yard pump, The frolicsome yearlings frisk 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 paper read, The stories are told, then all to bed ; Without, the cricket's ceaseless song Makes shrill the silence all night long; The heavy dews are falling; The housewife's hand has turned the lock ; Drowsily ticks the kitchen clock ; The household sinks to deep repose ; But still in sleep the farm-boy goes Singing, calling — " Co', boss ! co', boss ! co' ! co' ! co' ! " And oft the milkmaid, in her dreams, Drums in the pail with the flashing streams, Murmuring, " So, boss ! so ! " —J. T. Trowbridge. 376 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. MODULATION. 'Tis not enough the voice be sound and clear, 'Tis modulation that must charm the ear. When desperate heroes grieve with tedious moan, And whine their sorrows in a see-saw tone, The same soft sounds of unimpassioned woes Can only make the yawning hearers doze. That voice all modes of passion can express Which marks the proper words with proper stress ; But none emphatic can that speaker call, Who lays an equal emphasis on all. Some, o'er the tongue the labored measures roll, Slow and deliberate as the parting toll; Point every stop, mark every pause so strong, Their words, like stage processions, stalk along. All affectation but creates disgust; And e'en in speaking, we may seem too just. In vain for them the pleasing measure flows, Whose recitation runs it all to prose; Repeating what the poet sets not down, The verb disjointing from its favorite noun, While pause and break, and repetition join To make a discord in each tuneful line. Some placid natures fill the allotted scene With lifeless drawls, insipid and serene; While others thunder every couplet o'er, And almost crack your ears with rant and roar. More nature oft, and finer strokes are shown In the low whisper, than tempestuous tone; And Hamlet's hollow voice and fixed amaze, More powerful terror to the mind conveys, Than he who, swollen with impetuous rage, Bullies the bulky phantom of the stage. He who, in earnest, studies o'er his part, Will find true nature cling about his heart. The modes of grief are not included all In the white handkerchief and mournful drawl; A single look more marks the internal woe, Than all the windings of the lengthened Oh ! Up to the face the quick sensation flies, And darts its meaning from the speaking eyes: Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair, And all the passions, all the soul is there. — Lloyd. SELECTIONS. 377 PYRAMIDS NOT ALL EGYPTIAN. Mankind are toiling for a deathless name. Var- ious are the schemes devised, and the plans pur- sued, to gain this one world-sought end — to rear a pyramid that shall not decay, but grow broader and higher with "the roll of ages." This is the nucleus of the world of thought. At its altar are immolated the smile and tear, the swell of delight and revenging throb, the sweets of duty, and joys of life, and hopes of heaven. No hardships, nor privations, nor sacrifices, but here are freely shrined. Eating the bread of sorrow and drink- ing the tears of mourning, the individual world eagerly pursues the phantom of hope till death stops the chase and rolls them into the tomb. Dreaming of this, the peasant forgets his grief, and only seeks to become dear in his own circle, though icicles hang from his brow and freeze around his heart. The student ekes out his life in midnight thought, tumbles into the grave, only craving a wandering sigh when years have rolled away. The conspir- ator cuts the bands of civil law, touches the spring of revolution, and heaves whole empires into a sea of tears, that his name may eddy away on the rag- ing billows. The warrior builds his pyramid on the bloody battle plain ; and where bayonet, and fire, and blood, blend their terrors, he deals death with his saber, and flings heart's blood at the sun with his glittering blade. The moral deceiver erects his in a more solemn realm. He blots out the sun of hope, rolls man up in self, and pushes a whole world to the doleful caverns of an eternal night. And what an illustration of this is Mo- hammed, that form of terror which blazed athwart the moral heavens, consumed the vital atmosphere, and shrieking with his latest breath, " Oh God! 378 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. pardon my sins," plunged into the awful whirlpool of shoreless remorse. How has the bleak, black summit of his pyramid been shattered by the scath- ing fires of heaven's judgment? To give his name to posterity, Caesar crossed the Rubicon, and Home was free no more. He built a terrible pyramid upon the ruins of the "Eternal City." But think you its vast height gave him pride, or availed him aught when the cold steel of Brutus' dagger rank- led in his heart, and poured his blood on the Sen- ate floor of Rome ? To gain an undying name, Alexander drew the sword of conquest, lit up the land with burning cities, quenched their sighs with tears, extorted the sigh of anguish from millions, and then died, seek- ing to show himself a god. And Bonaparte too, that lion, swimming in blood, w T ent over Europe tying laurels on his brow with heart-strings, and writing his name with his blood-streaming sword, full on the thrones and foreheads of kings. The powers of his mind, throbbing in midnight dreams, shook the civilized world ; and yet the delirious spirit of this world- wonderful warrior, whose haughty star withered kings and whose brow was unawed, whether his eagles hovered around the Alps or shrieked amid the flames of Moscow, died a powerless prisoner on the lonely billow-dashed isle of St. Helena. These have gained names more lasting than Egyptian pyramids. But oh ! the dole- ful price of their eternal ruin. Who, who can read the history of such men as these and then seek a like immortality? May the winds of annihilation blow such desires from our earth ! But is there no way of gaining a name, noble, glorious, immortal? Boundless are the fields, endless are the ways, and numberless the examples of pure and heavenly re- nown. Though the ways which lead to never-end- ing shame are rnauy, there are paths that lead to SELECTIONS. 379 fame, unsullied and undying, up which many great minds have toiled unceasing, till death cut the fet- ters and sent them home. The scholar, astronomer, poet, orator, patriot, and philosopher, all have fields, broad, fertile, perennial. The ruins of the "Eternal City" "still breathe, born with Cicero." The story of Demosthenes, with his mouth full of pebbles, haranguing the billows of old ocean, will be stammered by the school-boy " down to latest time." And after " the foot of time " has trodden down his marble tomb- stone, and strewed his grave with the dust of ages, it will be said that nature's orator, Patrick Henry, while accused of treason and threatened with death, " hurled his crushing thunderbolts " at the haughty form of tyranny, and cried, "Give me liberty, or give me death," in accents that burned all over Europe. Washington, too, has a pyramid in every Ameri- can heart. When the serpent, tyranny, wrapped his freezing folds around our nation's heart, and with exulting hisses raised his horrid coils to heaven, then Washington hurled a thunderbolt that drove him back to molder and rot beneath the crumbling thrones of Europe, and sent the startling echo of freedom rumbling around our broad green earth. A fire of desolation may kindle in our me- tropolis and strew it in the dust, yea, may burn away our continent with all its monuments, but his name will be breathed with reverence till the ocean has ceased to heave, and time has ceased to be. Our countryman, Eranklin, too; look at the pyra- mid that bears his name, burying its mighty sum- mit in the lowering thunder-cloud, while around it the lightnings play and lurk, and write " Immor- tality." Has not Newton a name among the im- mortal ? How eagerly did he grasp the golden chain, swung from the Eternal Throne, and with 380 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. what intense rapture and thrilling delight did he climb upward, vibrate through the concave of the skies, gaze around upon the stars, and bathe in the glorious sunlight of eternal truth that blazed from the center — Deity. Can time, or winds, or floods, or fire, destroy Luther's pyramid? He reared it by an awful con- flict, more terrible than ever hung on the tread of an army. The one carries thrones and empires, the silent thoughts of the other tell on the destiny of the world. Nerved by the Omnipotent, he stood up amid the smoke and flash of century-working batteries, and thundered, "Truth," till the world reeled and rocked as if within the grasp of an earthquake. Milton, too; the wave of oblivion may surge over the pyramids, yea, may engulf all Africa, but Milton, who painted pyramids with heavenly glow, unlocked the brazen gates of the fiery gulf, heard its raging howl, and saw its mad- dening billows heave and plunge, will strike anew his golden lyre in heaven when yonder sun shall stay his fiery wheels mid-heaven, sicken, darken, and pitch lawless from his flaming chariot into the black chaos of universal ruin. Nor is this all. A day is coming when the pyra- mids built in blood shall crumble and sink, when yonder firmament shall frown in blackness and ter- ror, when the judgment fires shall kindle around the pillars that stay creation, and rolling their smoke and flames upward, fire the entire starry dome, — when burning worlds shall fly, and lighten through immensity, — when the car of eternity rumbling onward, shall ever travel over the dismal loneliness and bleak desolation of a burned up uni- verse; and then shall the pyramids of the just tower away in the sunlight of heaven, while their builders shall cull the flowers and pluck the fruits of the perennial city, — and to God who created SELECTIONS. 381 them, and to Christ who redeemed them, swell an anthem of praise, increasing, louder and deeper, with the ceaseless annals of eternity. — P. 0. Barnes. PAUL REVERE'S RIDE. Listen, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five; Hardly a man is now alive "Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend — " If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch Of the North-Church tower, as a signal-light — One if by land, and two if by sea ; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country-folk to be up and to arm." Then he said good-night, and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at the moorings lay The Somerset, British man of-war; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar, Across the moon, like a prison-bar, And a huge, black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide. Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street W anders and watches with eager ears, Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the barrack-door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers Marching down to their boats on the shore. Then he climbed to the tower of the church, Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry-chamber overhead, And start d the pigeons from their perch On the somber rafters, that round him made Masses and moving shapes of shade, — 382 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Up the light ladder, slender and tall, To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the quiet town, And the moonlight flowing over all. Beneath, in the church-yard, lay the dead; In their night-encampment on the hill, "Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, The watchful night-wind as it went Creeping along from tent to tent, And seeming to whisper, "All is well ! " A moment only he feels the spell Of the place and the hour, the secret dread Of the lonely belfry and the dead ; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay — A line of black that bends and floats On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride, On the opposite shore walked Paul Eevere. Now he patted his horse's side, Now gazed on the landscape far and near, Then impetuous stamped the earth, And turned and tightened his saddle girth; But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry- tower of the old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely, and spectral, and somber, and still. And lo ! as he looks on the belfry's height, A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns ! A hurry 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 ; That was all ! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night ; And the spark struck out by that steed in his flight Kindled the land into flame with its heat. SELECTIONS. 383 It wa* twelve by the village-clock, When he crossed the bridge into Medford town, He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of the farmer's dog, And felt the damp of the river-fog, That rises when the sun goes down. It was one by the village-clock, When he rode into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing o'er the meadows brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bridge would be first to fall, Who that day would be lying dead, Pierced by a British musket-ball. You know the rest. In the books you have read How the British regulars fired and fled — How the farmers gave them ball for ball, From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, Chasing the red-coats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load. So through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm, — A cry of defiance, and not of fear, — A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo for evermore! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, Through all our history, to the last, In the hour of darkness, and peril, and need, The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed, And the midnight message of Paul Revere. — H. W. Longfellow. 384 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. PAUL'S DEFENSE BEFORE AGRIPPA. Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Thou art permitted to speak for thyself. Then Paul stretched forth the hand, and answered for himself: I think myself happy, king Agrippa, because I shall answer for myself this day before thee touch- ing all the things whereof I am accused of the Jews; especially because I know thee to be expert in all customs and questious which are among the Jews : wherefore I beseech thee to hear me pa- tiently. My manner of life from my youth, which was at the first among mine own nation at Jerusalem, know all the Jews; which knew me from the be- ginning, if they would testify, that after the most straitest sect of our religion I lived a Pharisee. And now I stand and am judged for the hope of the promise made of God unto our fathers: unto which promise our twelve tribes, constantly serving God day and night, hope to come. For which hope's sake, king Agrippa, I am accused of the Jews. Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you, that God should raise the dead ? I verily thought with myself, that I ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth. Which thing I also did in Jerusalem : and many of the saints did I shut up in prison, having received authority from the chief priests ; and w T hen they were put to death, I gave my voice against them. And I punished them oft in every synagogue, and compelled them to blaspheme ; and being exceed- ingly mad against them, I persecuted them even unto strange cities. Whereupon as I went to Da- mascus with authority and commission from the chief priests, at mid-day, king, I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the brightness of the SELECTIONS. 385 sun, shining round about me and them which jour- neyed with me. And when we were all fallen to the earth, I heard a voice speaking unto me, and saying in the Hebrew tongue, Saul, Saul, why per- secute thou me? it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks. And I said, Who art thou, Lord? And he said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest. But rise, and stand upon thy feet : for I have appeared unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a wit- ness both of these things which thou hast seen, and of those things in the which I will appear unto thee ; delivering thee from the people, and from the Gentiles, unto whom now I send thee, to open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in me. Whereupon, king Agrippa, I was not disobe- dient unto the heavenly vision: but showed first unto them of Damascus, and at Jerusalem, and throughout all the coasts of Judea, and then to the Gentiles, that they should repent and turn to God, and do works meet for repentance For these causes the Jews caught me in the temple, and went about to kill me. Having therefore obtained help of God, I continue unto this day, witnessing both to small and great, saying none other things than those which the prophets and Moses did say should come : That Christ should suffer, and that he should be the first that should rise from the dead, and should show light unto the people, and to the Gentiles. And as he thus spake for himself, Festus said with a loud voice, Paul, thou art beside thyself; much learning doth make thee mad. But he said, I am not mad, most noble Festus ; but speak forth the words of truth and soberness. For the king 25 386 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. knoweth of these things, before whom also I speak freely : for I am persuaded that none of these things are hidden from him; for this thing was not done in a corner. King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets? I know that thou believest. Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian. And Paul said, I would to God, that not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, were both almost, and altogether such as I am, except these bonds. And when he had thus spoken, the king rose up, and the governor, and Bernice, and they that sat with them : and when they were gone aside, they talked between themselves, saying, This man doeth nothing worthy of death or of bonds. Then said Agrippa unto Festus, This man might have been set at liberty, if he had not appealed unto Csesar. — The Bible. THE RAVEN. Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, — While 1 nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tissome visitor," 1 muttered, " tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, — For the rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore, — Nameless here for evermore. And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me, — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So thut now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, " 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, — Some late visitor entreating entnmce at my chamber door; That it is, and nothing more." SELECTIONS. 387 Presently my soul grew stronger ; hesitating then no longer, " Sir," said I, " or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you "—here I opened wide the door ; Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before ; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,"Lenore !" This I whispered, and an echomurmured back theword/'LENORE !" Merely this, and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping, somewhat louder than before. " Surely," said I, " surely that is something at my window lattice ; Let me see then what thereat is and this mystery explore, — Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore ; — 'Tis the wind and nothing more." Open here T flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door, — Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door — Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, " Though tby crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven ; Ghastly ,grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's Plutonian shore? " Quoth the raven, " Nevermore ! " Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore ; For we can not help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was biessed with seeing bird above his chamber door, Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door With such name as " Nevermore ! " But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered ; not a feather then he fluttered — Till I scarcely more than muttered, " Other friends have flown before. On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before," Then the bird said, " Nevermore ! " 388 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Startled at the stillness, broken by reply so aptly spoken, " Doubtless," said I, " what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore, Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore, Of — ' Never — nevermore ! ' " But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door, Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy into fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore — What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking " Nevermore ! " This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press — ah ! nevermore ! Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. " Wretch," I cried, " thy God hath lent thee— by these angels he hath sent thee, Eespite — respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore ! Quaff, oh, quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore ! " Quoth the raven, u .Nevermore !" " Prophet," said T, " thing of evil ! — prophet still, if bird or devil ! Whether tempter sent, or whetber tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — On this home by horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore, — Is there— is there balm in Gilead?— tell me — tell me, I implore!" Quoth the raven, " Nevermore ! " " Prophet ! " said I " thing of evil ! — prophet still, if bird or devil ! By that heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore, Tell this soul, with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore; Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore! " Quoth the raven, " Nevermore ! " " Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend ! " I shrieked, upstarting — Get thee back into the tempest and the night's Plutonian shore; Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath at^ken 1 SELECTIONS. 389 Leave my loneliness unbroken !— quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!" And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore ! —Edgar Allan Poe. SHERIDAN'S RIDE. Up from the South at break of day, Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, The affrighted air with a shudder bore, Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar, Telling the battle was on once more. And Sheridan twenty miles away. And wider still those billows of war Thundered along the horizon's bar ; And louder yet into Winchester rolled The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, Making the blood of the listener cold, As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, And Sheridan twenty miles away. But there is a road from Winchester town, A good, broad highway leading down ; And there, through the flush of the morning light, A steed as black as the steeds of night, Was seen to pass, as with eagle flight. As if he knew the terrible need, He stretched away with his utmost speed ; Hills rose and fell ; but his heart was gay, With Sheridan fifteen miles away. Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South, The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth ; Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster. The heart of the steed, and the heart of the master Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, Impatient to be where the battle-field calls; Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, With Sheridan only ten miles away. 390 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. Under his spurning feet, the road Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, And the landscape sped awav behind Like an ocean flying before the wind, And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire, Swept on, with his wild eye full of fire, But lo ! he is nearing his heart's desire ; He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, "With Sheridan only five miles away. The first that the General saw were the groups Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops ; What was done, — what to do, — a glance told him both, And striking his spurs, with a terrible oath, He dashed down the line, 'mid a storm of huzzas, And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because The sight of the master compelled it to pause. With foam and with dust the black charger was gray ; By the flash of his eye, and his red nostrils' play, He seemed to the whole great army to say, "I have brought you Sheridan all the way, From Winchester down, to save the day." Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan! Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man ! And when their statutes are placed on high, Under the dome of the Union sky, — The American soldiers' Temple of Fame, There with the glorious General's name Be it said in letters both bold and bright : " Here is the steed that saved the day By carrying Sheridan into the fight, From YVinchester, twenty miles away ! " — T. B. Bead. SISTER AND I. We were hunting for wintergreen berries, One May day, long gone by, Out on the rocky cliff's edge, Little sister and I. Sister had hair like the sunbeams; Biack as a crow's wing, mine; Sister had blue, dove's eyes; Wicked, black eyes are mine. Why, see how my eyes are faded — And my hair, it is white as snow! And thin, too! don't you see it is? I tear it sometimes ; so ! SELECTIONS. 391 There, don't hold my hands, Maggie, I don't feel like tearing it now ; But — where was T in my story? Oh, I was telling you how We were looking for wintergreen berries ; 'T was one bright morning in May, And the moss-grown rocks were slippery With the rains of yesterday. But I was cross that morning, Though the sun shone ever so bright — And when sister found the most berries, I was angry enough to fight ! And when she laughed at my pouting — We were little things, you know — I clinched my little fist up tight, And struck her the biggest blow ! I struck her — I tell you— I struck her, And she fell right over below — There, there, Maggie, I won't rave now; You needn't hold me so — She went right over, I tell you, Down, down to the depths below! 'Tis deep and dark and horrid There, where the waters flow ! She fell right over moaning, " Bessie, oh, Bessie ! " so sad, That, when I looked down affrighted, It drove me mad— mad ! Only her golden hair streaming Out on the rippling wave, Only her little hand reaching Up, for some one to save ; And she sank down in the darkness, I never saw her again, And this world is a chaos of blackness And darkness and grief since then. No more playing together Down on the pebbly strand ; Nor building our doll's stone castles With halls and parlors grand; No more fishing with bent pins In the little brook's clear waves; No more holding funerals O'er dead canaries' graves ; No more walking together To the log school house each morn ; No more vexing the master With putting his rules to scorn ; 392 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. No more feeding of white lambs With milk from the foaming pail; No more playing "seesaw" Over the fence of rail ; No more telling of stories After we've gone to bed; Nor talking of ghosts and goblins Till we fairly shiver with dread; No more whispering fearfully And hugging each other tight, When the shutters shake and the dogs howl In the middle of the night; No more saying " Our Father," Kneeling by mother's knee — For, Maggie, I struck sister! And mother is dead, you see; Maggie, sister's an angel, Isn't she? Isn't it true? For angels have golden tresses And eyes like sister's, blue. Now my hair isn't golden, My eyes aren't blue, you see — Now tell me, Maggie, if I were to die, Could they make an angel of me? You say, "Oh, yes;" you think so? Well, then, when I come to die, We'll play up there, in God's garden — We'll play there, sister and I. Now, Maggie, you needn't eye me, Because I'm talking so queer; Because I'm talking so strangely, You needn't have the least fear. I'm feeling to-night, Maggie, As I never felt before — I'm sure, I'm sure of it, Maggie, I never shall rave any more. Maggie, you know how these long years I've heard her calling, so sad, "Bessie, oh, Bessie ! " so mournful? It always drives me mad ! How the winter wind shrieks down the chimney, " Bessie oh. Bessie, oh, oh ! " How the south wind wails at the casement, " Bessie, oh, Bessie ! " so low. But most of all, when the May days Come back, with the flowers and the sun, How the night bird, singing, all lonely, " Bessie, oh, Bessie 1 " doth moan ; SELECTIONS. 393 You know how it sets me raving — For she moaned, " Oh, Bessie ! " just so, That time I struck little sister, On the May day long ago ! Now, Maggie, I 've something to tell you — You know May day is here — Well, this very morning, at sunrise, The robins chirped " Bessie ! " so clear — All day long the wee birds, singing, Perched on the garden wall, Called " Bessie, oh, Bessie ! " so sweetly, I couldn't feel sorry at all. Now, Maggie, I 've something to tell you — Let me lean up to you close — Do you see how the sunset has flooded The heavens with yellow and rose ? Do you see o'er the gilded cloud mountains Sister's golden hair streaming out? Do you see her little hand beckoning? Do you hear her little voice calling out — " Bessie, oh, Bessie ! " so gladly, " Bessie, oh, Bessie ! come haste ? " Yes, sister, I'm coming, I'm coming, To play in God's garden at last. — Anonymous. THE VAGABONDS. We are two travelers, Eoger and I. Koger'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 wesi-her, 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 's been frozen, — Plenty of catgut for my fiddle, — This out-door business is bad for strings, — Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, And Roger and I set up for kings! 394 TEN WEEKS IN ELOCUTION. No, thank ye, sir, — I never drink; Roger and 1 are exceedingly moral, — Aren'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-chalk. 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. But he sticks by, through thick and thin ; And this old coat, with its empty pockets, And rigs that 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, so faithful, and so forgiving, To such a miserable, thankless master! No, sir! — see him wag his tail and grin! By George! 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 is, sir!— Shall march a little. Start, you villain ! Stand straight ! 'Bout face ! Salute your oflicer! Put up that paw ! Dress ! 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 shakes, W T hen he stands up to hear his sentence. Now tell us 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 is easily said; But I've gone through such wretched treatment, Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread, And scarce remembering what meat meant, SELECTIONS. 395 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; they were not then Such a burning libel on God's creatures; I was one of your handsome men ! If you had seen her, so fair and 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 guessed That ever I, sir, should be straying From door to door, with fiddle and dog, Hagged 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. I 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 ringers dropped 1 You've set me talking, sir; I'm sorry ; It makes me wild to think of the change ! 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. 396 TEN WEEKS IX ELOCUTION. 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 gay life to lead, you think ? But soon we shall go where lodgings are free, And the sleepers need neither victuals nor drink; — The sooner, the better for Roger and me ! — J, T. Trowbridge, Songs of All the Colleges. Illuminated cloth cover. $1.50. Commencement Parts. " Efforts" for all occasions. Orations, addresses, va ! edictot ies, salutatories, cla^s poems, class mottoes, after-dinner speeches, flag days nuional holidays, class-day exercises. Models for every possible occasion in high-school and college career, every one of th • " efforts " being what some fellow has stood on his feet and actually delivered on a similar occasion— not what th" compilerwc^/rf say if he should happen to be calh d on for an ivy song or a response to a toast, or what not ; but what the fellow himself, when his turn came, did say ! $1.50. New Dialogues and Plays. Life-like episodes from popular authors like Steven- son, Crawford, Mark Twain, Dickens, Scott, in the form of simple plays, with every detail explained as to dress, make- up, utensils, furniture, etc., for school-room or parlor. $1.50. College Men's 3-Minute Declamations. Up-to-date selections from live men like Chauncey Depew, Hewitt, Gladstone, Cleveland, President Eliot (Harvard) and Carter (Williams) and others. New material with vitality in it for prize speaking. Very popular. $1.00. College Maids' 3-Minute Readings. Up-to-date recitations from living men and women. On the plan of" the popular College Men's Declamations, and on thesame high plane. $1.00. Pieces for Prize Speaking Contests. $1.25. Acme Declamation Book. Single pieces and dialogties. For boys and girls of all ages; all occasions. Paper, 30 cts.; cloth, 50 cts. Handy Pieces to Speak. Single pieces and dialogues. Primary, 20 cts.; Intermediate, 20 cts.; Advanced, 20 cts. All three for 50 cts . Pros and Cons. Complete debates of the affirmative and nega- tive of the stirring questions of the day. A de- cided hit. This is another book invaluable not only to high-school and college students, but also to every other person who aspires to con- verse engagingly on the topics of the day. Our foreign policy, the currency, the tariff, immi- £§' UJJM3 gration, high license, woman suffrage, penny w ' IhPwW 1 , postage, transportation, trusts, department stores, municipal ownership of franchises, government control of telegraph. Both sides of A J these and many other questions completely de- $fc£ rfltiTDES^ bated. Directions for organizing and conduct- ing a debating society, with by-laws and par- liamentary rules. $1.50. New Parliamentary Manual. By H. C. Davis, compiler of " Commencement Parts." 75 cents. Nearly Ready. Ten Weeks Course in Elocution. With numerous selections for illustration and practice. $1.25. Fenno's Science and Art of Elocution. $1.25. What Shall I Do ? 50 profitable occupations. $1.00. Songs of All the Colleges. Illuminated cloth cover. $1.50. Character Building. Inspiring suggestions. $1.00. Mistakes of Teachers corrected by common sense (the famous Preston Papers). Solves difficulties not explained in text-books which daily perplex the conscientious teacher. $1.00. Best Methods of Teaching in Country Schools (Lind' s). $ i . 25. Page's Theory and Practice of Teaching. With Questions and Answers. Paper, 50 CtS. Cloth, $1.00. Psychology Simplified for Teachers. Gordy's well-known "New Psychology." Familiar talks to teachers and parents on the successful teaching and rearing of the young. With Ques- tions on each Lesson. $1.25. '1'wenty-ninth thousand ! 20O Lessons Outlined in Arithmetic, Geography, Grammar, U. S. History, Physiology. $1.25. The Perceptionalist. Hamilton's Mental Science, rev. ed. $2. Smith's New Class Register. The best of record books. 50 cts. Likes and Opposites. Synonyms and their Opposites. 50 cts. Letter Writing. Newhandy rules forcorrectcorrespondence. 75c. Punctuation. Hinds & Noble's new Manual. Paper, 25 cts. New Speller. Hinds & Noble's new graded lists of 5000 words which one must know how to spell. 25 CtS. Craig's COMMON SCHOOL Questions with Answers. $1.50. Henry's HIGH SCHOOL Questions with Answers. $1.50. Sherrill's New Normal Questions with Answers. $1.50. Quizzism and its Key (Southwick). $1.00. Moritz' 1000 Questions. For Entrance Examinations N. Y. High Schools, Normal Coll , Cell, of City of N. Y., St. Francis Xavier Coll., West Point, Annapolis, and Civil Service. 3C cts. Answers to same. 50 cents. Recent Entrance Examination Questions. For the New York Normal College, the College of the City of New York, St. Francis Xavier's College, Columbia College, the High Schools, Regents' Exam's, West Point, Annapolis, and the Civil Service. 30 cents. Answers to same. 50 cents. How to Prepare for a Civil Service Examination, with recent Examination Questions and the Answers. 560 pages, $2.00. Abridged Edition, without questions and answers. 50 cents. How to Become Quick at Figures. Enlarged Edition. #1.00. Bad English. Humiliating " Breaks " corrected. 30 cts. Common Errors in writing and speaking. 50 cents. Composition Writing Made Easy. Very successful. Five Grades, viz.: A, B, C. D. E. 20 cts. each. All five for 75 cts. 1000 Composition Subjects. 25 cents. U. S. Constitution in German, French, and English, parallel columns, with explanatory marginal Notes. Cloth, 50c ; paper. 25c. Bookkeeping Blanks at 30 cts. per set. Five Blank-Books to the set. Adapted for use with any text-book -Elementary, Prac- tical, or Common School Used everywhere.— Price, 30 cts. per set. Lessons on Morals (Dewey). 75 cents. Lessons on Manners (Dewey). 75 cents. Coon's Civil Government of New York State. 75 cents. Commencement Parts, cloth — Price $1.50 Postpaid — twelvemo Here is a book full of the real thing, and con- taining nothing but the real thing ! The models here — every one a complete address — are not composed by the compiler to show what he would say if he should happen to be called on for a class poem, or an ivy song ; a valedictory, or an oration ; a response to a toast, an essay, a recitation, or what-not. Not at all! But every one of the "efforts" in this book is real — in the sense that it is what some one did do on the particular occasion when he actu- ally had to stand up and speak. This entitles them to be designated models in a genuine sense. If you are called upon, for any occasion (no matter what) during your whole high- school or college career, and wish a model to show how some one else has risen to a similar opportunity, we think you will discover by a glance at the list of contents of Com- mencement Parts some illustration of exactly what you require. Note also the lists of class mottoes, subjects for orations, essays, themes, toasts, etc. Besides the above we publish, also the following, of interest to those who have to ' ' appear in public on the stage. ' ' And we can't think of any "effort" throughout one's whole career that is not provided for — from the little tot's first curt sy, and along through the school and college years, to the debate of important civic nroblems by the adult before his fellow citizens : — Pros and Cons. Both sides of live question^. $1.50. Playable Plays. For school and parlor. $1.50 College Men's TTirer-Minute Declamations . $1.00. College Maids' Three-Minute Readings. $1.00. Pieces for Prize-Speaking Contests. $1.00. Acme Declamation Book. Paper. 30c. Cloth, 50c. Handy Pit ces to Speak. 103 on separate cards. 50c. List of " Contents " of any or all of above free on request if you menUv,^ this ad. HTRDS & HOBLE, Publishers, 4^5-13-14 Cooper Institute, H. Y. City. tSchooUtooks of aU publishers at one store. Contents of " Commencement Parts.' J. Introduction to Commencement Parts. 2. The Orator and the Oration* (a) The Orator. (b) The Oration. (c) The Farts of the Oration. 3* Commencement Parts. (/) A Latin Saiutatory. De Nostro Cum Aliis Civitatibus Agendi Modo. (^) Orations. (a) American Ideals. (b) Culture and Service. (c) Education as Related to Civic Prosperity. (d) U ebraism and Culture. ie) Marc Antony. (/) Modern Knighthood. (g) The Negro and the South. (k) The Decisive Battle of the Rebellion. (i) The University and True Patriotism. (/) The Discipline of Life and Character. (k) The Liberalistic Temper. (/) The Spirit that Should Animate. (;«) Reveience Due from the Old to the Young, (j) Appropriate Subjects for the Oration (I-136). (^) Valedictories. (a) " Perduret atque Valeat ' ' (Latin). (b) Service. ( c ) For a Dental College. (d) For a College. () President's Address. J) Salutatory, £ Class Day Exercises (continued). (j) Dux's Speech. (6) Ivy Oration. (7) Class Song. (8) Ivy Oration. (9) Class Will. (10) Ivy Oration. (//) Ivy Poem. \i2) Ivy Song. (ij) Class Oration — The Old and New. {14) Washington's Birthday Oration. (15) Presentation Oration. (16) Class Oration — Abraham Lincoln. (17) Class Mottoes (1-42). The Composition and Essay. (1) Introductory Suggestions. (a) Model Outline of Composition (b) Model Outline of Essay. (<;) Brief Essay. {2) Compositions. (a) Autumn. (b) What Makes the Sky Blue? \c) The Beauties of Nature. (d) Winter Leaves. (3) Essays. (a) Beatrice. (Character Study.) (b) Independent Character. (Descriptive.) (c) Ruskin's "Ethics of the Dust." (Critical.) (d) Edward Rowl and Sill. (Literary.) (e) Intellectual Improvement, an Aid to the Im- agination. (Philosophical Disputation.) (f) The Survival of the Fittest in Literature. (Literary Discussion.) (g) "Una." (Analytical.) (/i) Thomas Chatterton. (Prize College Essay.) (i) Kipling's Religion. (Literary.) ( ;) The Reaction Against the Classics. (Colloquy. ) (/£) Memory's Message. (Dedicatory.) (/) Manual Training and Intellectual Develop- ment. (Normal School Prize Essay.) (m) True Nobility. (A College Prize Essay.) (4) Subjects for Composition. (#) Narrative (1-35). (b) Descriptive (1—55). Qft Themes for Essays (1-53). 6. After-Dinner Speaking. (i) Introductory Suggestions. (?) An Address of Welcome at an A^mni Dinner (In Honor of the College President). (3) Response to a Toast, " Yale and Princeton." (^) Response to a Toast, " The Puritan and the Dutch- man. ' ' (5) Response to a Toast, "The Plain People." (6) Response to a Toast, "Woman." (7) Response to a Toast, " A Business Man's Political Obligations." (8) Response to a Toast, " The Sovereignty of the United States." (9) Response to a Toast, " Recollection the Strongest In- fluence." (10) Response to a Toast, " The Future of the Nation." (11) An After-Dinner Story. (12) A List of Toasts (1-40). 7. Flag Day. (/) Introduction. (2) Recitation for a Eoy or Girl. (j) Recitation — Our Country. (;) Recitation — The Stars and Stripes* (j) Address — Old Glory. (6) Address — The Voice of the Flag. 8. "Words of the National Airs. (1) Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean. (:?) Hail Columbia. (j) America. (4) The Star-Spangled Banner. (j) Our Flag is There. 9. Speeches for National Holidays. (/) Independence Day Address. (2) Lift up Your Hearts. (1'ourth of July.) (j) Lincoln the Immortal. (Lincoln's Birthday.) (4) Wasnington's Birthday Address. iS) Washington's Birthday. (6) Tree Planting. (A Poem for Arbor Day.) (7) Decoration Day Address. r (£) Memorial Day Ode — Our Honored Dead, tO. Occasional Addresses. (/) Religious. («) Growth. An Address before a Christian Endeavor Convention. (J>) To be Kings among Men. A Chapel Ad- dress by a College President. () The Presiding Officer's Address at a College Debate. (q ) The Influence of the Great Teacher. An Address before College Alumni. (r) Response of a College Professor to a Compli- mentary Resolution. (5*) Festival Days. {a ) A Thanksgiving Speech. (b) A Thanksgiving Day Address. ( c ) An Exercise Around the Christmas Tree. (d) A Mock Menu for a March Banquet (e) A Banquet Menu. (/) A Thanksgiving Song. (6) Miscellaneous Abstracts. ( a ) At the Dedication of a Hall of Science and Art. (<5) Response to a Toast, " Noblesse Oblige."— (Phi Beta Kappa Banquet.) (c) Grand Army Speech. NEW DIALOGUES AND PLAYS PRIMARY— INTERMEDIATE— ADVANCED Adapted from the popular works of well-known authors by BINNEY GUNNISON Instructor in the School of Expression, Boston; formerly Instructor in Elocution in Worcester Acad' emy and in the Brooklyn Polytechnic Institute. Cloth, 650 Pages ... Price, $J.50 Too many books of dialogues have been published with- out any particular reference to actual performance on plat- form or stage. There are no suggestions of stage business ; the characters neither enter nor leave ; while the dialogue progresses, no one apparently moves or feels emotion. Noth- ing is said at the beginning of the dialogue to show the situa- tion of the characters; no hints are given as to the part about to be played. In plays, as ordinarily printed, there is very little to show either character or situation — all must be found out by a thorough study of the play. This may be well for the careful student, but the average amateur has no time, and often only little inclination, to peruse a whole play or a whole novel in order to play a little part in an enter- tainment. Perhaps the strongest feature of our book is the carefully prepared introduction to each dialogue. Not only are the characters all named in order of importance, but the charac- teristics, the costumes, the relation of one to another, age, size, etc., are all mentioned. Most important of all is what is called the "Situation." Here the facts necessary to a clear comprehension of the dialogue following are given very concisely, very briefly, but, it is hoped, adequately for the purpose in hand. The story previous to the opening of the dialogue is related ; the condition of the characters at the beginning of the scene is stated ; the setting of the plat- form is carefully described. There has been no book of dialogues published containing so much of absolutely new material adapted from the best literature and gathered from the most recent sources — this feature will be especially appreciated. May we send you a copy for inspection subject to your approval ? HINDS & NOBLE Publishers of 3-Minute Declamations for College Men 3-Minute Readings for College Girls, Handy Pieces to Speak Acme Declamation Book, Pros & Cons (Complete Debates) Commencement Parts (Orations, Essays, Addresses), Pieces for Prize Speaking Contests (in press). 4r5-J3-J4 Cooper Institute New York Cttjf LIST OF CONTENTS PRIMARY DIALOGUES Humorous Aunt Ellen's Hatchet The New Baby Frances Hodgson Burnett The Unburied Woman Playing Hookey Sophie May Hearsay . . . Tired of Church The Inkstand Sophie May The Sword Berquin Serious The "Blue and the Gray" Elsie's Burglar Fauntleroy and the Earl .... Frances Hodgson Burnett The Reconciliation Louise M. Alcolt Keeping House Sophie May The Lost Princess Selling the Image Mrs. C. V. Jamison The Sick Boy's Plan A Child's Love A Manly Boy A Tiny Quarrel Sophie May The Mouse Mrs. C. V. Jamison Nell's Christmas Stocking J. L. Harbour Father Time's Granddaughters . . Nathaniel Hawthorne INTERMEDIATE DIALOGUES Humorous The Schoolmaster W. T. Adams A Confession of Love Not Quite John Poole Captain Kempthorn H. W. Longfellow The Restless Youth Testing the Suitors The Emperor and the Deserter Mike Gets a Job The Stupid Lover Our Daughter His Own Pills Louis XIV. and His Minister A. Conan Doyle The Challenge Richard Brins ley Sheridan Serious The Homeless Old Man Hall Caine The Witch of Vesuvius Bulwer Lytton His Enemy's Honor Cleopatra and the Messenger Shakespeare The Bishop's Silver Candlesticks Victor Hugo The Peasant Boy's Vindication Dimond The Baron and the Jew Walter Scott In Love with His Wife Christian Forgiveness A Wife and a Home Aurelian and Zenobia William Ware ADVANCED DIALOGUES Humorous The French Duel Mark Twain Mrs. Hardcastle's Journey Oliver Goldsmith A Matter of Duty Anthony Hope Pride Against Pride Westland Marston Tom and Roxy Mark Twain A Disastrous Announcement Charles Dickens Miss Judith Macan Charles Lever Helen and Modus Sheridan Knowles Sam Weller and his Father Charles Dickens Extracting a Secret F. Marion Crawford Open or Shut Alfred de Musset Taming a Wife John Tobin The Prairie Princesses Serious The Suffering of Nehushta F. Marion Crawford "Gentlemen, the King!" Robert Barr Ben-Hur and Iras Lew Wallace Savonarola and Lorenzo Alfred Austin Tito's Armor George Eliot Love Conquers Revenge Robert Byr Becket Saves Rosamund Alfred, Lord Tennyson The Princess and the Countess R. L. Stevenson Queen Catherine Shakespeare Deacon Brodie Henley and Stevenson Pizarro and Rolla ...... Richard Brinsley Sheridan Raimond Released Mrs. Felicia Hemans Mrs. Harwood's Secret Mrs. M. O. W. Oliphant Innocence Rewarded Oliver Goldsmith PIECES FOR x x x t PRIZE-SPEAKING CONTESTS tiiss A collection of over one hun . dred pieces which have taken prizes in prize-speaking contests. Cloth, 448 pages- Price. $1.25, PUBLISHED BY HINDS & NOBLE 4-5-6424344 Cooper Institute, New York City * *0.~ %\ % / ; "'i 1 ^ ': \> *f Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proc( Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Nov. 2007 PreservationTechnologu A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVAT 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724)779-2111 "^ A^ > «5 'U ' •%. W 4 -r