August 4, I8y8 Subscription Price, jp/o^' PS 1939 My •H4 G5 p Pena Publishing (?inpar\^(, Philadelphia ENTERED AT THE PHILADELPHIA POST OFFICE AS SFT-- \ \ SHOEMAKER'S ^ B^st Selectioi|s FOR READINGS AND RECITATIONS Numbers 1 to 25 Now Issued Paper Binding, each number, - - 30 cents Cloth ** " ** - - - 50 " This series was formerly called ^'The Elocutionist's Annual," the first 17 numbers being published under that title. The change in name is made because it is believed a more appropriate title is thus secured. Teachers, Readers, Students, and all persons who have occasion to use books of this kind, concede this to be the best series of speakers published. The differ- ent numbers are compiled by leading elocutionists of the country, who have exceptional facilities for securing "^lecti'ons, and whose judgment as to their merits is in- valuable. No trouble or expense is spared to obtain the very best readings and recitations, and much njJterial is used by special arrangement with other publishers, thus securing the best selections from such American authors as Longfellow, Holmes, Whittier, Lowell, Emerson, Alice and Phoebe Gary, Mrs. Stowe, and many others. The foremost English authors are also represented, as well as the leading French and German writers. Sold by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or mailed upon receipt of price. THE I»H1WN PUBI^ISHIl^G COMI»ANY 923 Arcb Street ,.^. Pbllaaelpbla A GILDED BRICK A Comedy in One Act By Willard Holcomb F iCE CF THE ^'<^' OSS%17!898^ 're. 'Po -%(■_■ ■•..•-;r»vw\'»:2^ Philadelphia The Penn Publishing Company J898 • • • • • • • ••'•*< CoPYRigjrtffSgS "^Y.T^f *?^i^ PiJblishh^p Company '•• • • • A Gilded Brick CAST OF CHARACTERS KiTTiE Clay A " gilded brick " Marie Bisque An heiress John Van Devere A real swell Dick Schryver A poor author Mrs. Wishington A matchmaker Willie WiSHiNGTON A parlor match Florence Detrop A superfluous girl Jack Dothunter Hu?iti?ig an heiress Count de Bogus • . . Hunting an heiress Lord Fitznoodle Hunting an heiress Costumes — Modern Time in Representation — Forty-five minutes A GILDED BRICK SCENE. — Conservatory of the Bon- Ton Hotel dtiriyig a ball — Florence Detrop and Jack Dothunter discov- ered standing, l. Florence. I don't care, Jack Dothunter, I think you have treated me just shamefully ! Ever since that horrid Httle heiress came to the hotel you've deserted me entirely. You've been hanging after her just like all the rest of the fellows. I don't see what you find so fascinating about her ; I think she is just horrid, and so do all the girls ! Jack. Now don't be hard on Miss Bisque ; she's quite amusing, don't you know. Florence. Amusing? Disgusting! Why, she's posi- tively " outre," and if it wasn't for her money she wouldn't be tolerated in polite society ! Think of her dancing the " skirt dance " in the parlor — why, all the girls were shocked almost to death ! Jack. Maybe that was because they couldn't do it as well — Florence. Jack ! Jack. Oh, it isn't her fault that she is a trifle free and easy ; it's her bringing up. She's as good as gold at heart. Florence. At pocket, you mean. But that's right, stick up for her, as all the men do — only let me tell you, Jack Dothunter, you're going just a little bit too far with me ! Jack. Really, Miss Detrop ; I don't think you have a right to call me to account in this manner — Florence. Haven't I ? Well, then, we'll just break our engagement right here, and when your heiress throws you over, where'll you be then, Mr. Dothunter? Jack, {aside) That's so ; I haven't got her yet, and Flor- rie's good second choice, even if she isn't quite so rich. {Aloiid) Now, Florrie, don't be foolish. You know I love you alone, and that this is only a little flirtation to fool your mother. Florence. Well, you're making it a little bit too re- alistic, that's all. Jack, {coaxingly) Come, now, won't you forgive me ? 5 6 A GILDED BRICK Florence, {relenting) Will you promise me to keep away from that Bisque girl ? Jack. Why, certainly, if you wish it ; only I can't be rude to her, you know. Florence. You needn't have anything to do with her — here she comes now, with enough fools following her. (Kittie C7id Marie appear at door, c, with several gallants followifig.) Jack. I must see her a minute — to break an engage- ment. {Starts.) Florence, {decidedly) This is our dance, I believe, Mr. Dothunter, and the music is just started. (Jack reluctantly gives her his arm, and she leads him off, l.) Kittie. {at door) You must excuse me now, gentlemen, as I have an engagement for a curtain lecture from my chaperone. ( Waves them, off) Now, Marie, dear, we can have a moment to ourselves. Oh, did you see that Detrop girl drag Mr. Dothunter off just as we came in ? She's as jealous as a cat. People say they are engaged, but he pro- posed to me last night. Marie. I don't wonder she's jealous of you, then. Did you accept him ? Kittie. Not much ! I put him on probation with the rest. AiARiE. With the rest ? Kittie. Why, yes ! Didn't I tell you ? Lord Fitznoodle took me out riding this morning, you know, and between talking horse and staring at me with that glass eye — I mean eyeglass — of his, he managed to drawl out that he'd " be deuced glad to have me hitch up in double harness with him, don't ye know." {Mimic ki?ig him) Marie. Who was the other ? Kittie. Oh, Count de Bogus was laying for me out on the lawn after lunch. He went down on his knees and got his white trousers all over grass stains, and then he raved like a regular Italian opera lover, all about la bella luna. {Imi- tates him.) Marie, {laughing) What d'd you say to him ? Kittie. I told him he was a bella lunatic and that I'd thank him to quit making a circus of himself out on the lawn, where everybody could see him. Marie. Well, you have been breaking hearts at a terri- ble rate. Now, what are you going to do with them ? A GILDED BRICK 7 KiTTiE. Well, before we made this exchange of costume and name, by which I was to i)lay tlie part of the rich Miss Bisque, the belle and heiress, with you in the humble role of my companion, you told me that there were no such things as " love " and " chivalry " in modern society ; that it was all match-making and money worship. Now, I thought 5''ou had grown a little bit suspicious and cynical with too much success, so when you agreed to exchange places with me I thought I'd see for myself. Marie. What do you think of it now? KiTTiE. Well, I'm not so certain as I was that the life of an heiress is all roses. There's lots of spiteful little thorns among them, and, worst of all, is the thought that you are being courted only for your cash. Marie. That's just what I told you, but you thought it must be glorious to have gowns and jewels and flowers and fun, with never a qualm as to the cost. KiTTiE. It was awfully jolly — for a time. Didn't I create a sensation when I first came ? Marie. You certainly did, and you've kept it up ever since. KiTTiE. Now, don't lecture me, dear. I know I've been a little too fresh sometimes, but luckily no one knows you here, and they all forgive my breaks. Whatever I do goes 1 Marie. Because " money makes the mare go," and a good many other things, too. Kittie. Do you really think that is the reason, that they only flatter me, because they think I have a fortune ? Marie. Not entirely, dear, for you have a good heart and honest ways, which won me when you were yourself. But as for me, I thought long ago that my money was my chief cliarm, and this little masquerade of ours has con- vinced me. Nobody cares for me now, except as a means of getting into your good graces. Kittie. You poor darling! You have been most neg- lected, cheated out of your rights by me, an impostor. Oh, why can't they see that I'm a fraud! Does a little gilding- make such a difference that common clay can't be told from real bisque ? Marie. Never mind, dear, I'm not jealous of your triumphs. I have experienced them myself and know of their emptiness, which I am afraid you must soon learn. Kittie. {sadly) I'm afraid so, too. Marie. Come now, Kittie, don't be downcast. We've enjoyed this little comedy so far ; let's carry it through mer- rily to the end. 8 A GiLDEt) BRICK KiTTiE. That's what I'm worrying about — the end. I've played leading lady for nearly a week now, and done fairly well, but I'm getting shaky in my lines and begin to wish I were a plain soubrette again. One can cover up a break with " business " then, but this high comedy acting, before a critical audience, is an awful strain. Marie. Well, we must end it soon. I've just received letters from friends who are coming here to-morrow, and they'll expose our imposition immediately. KiTTiE. The sooner the better, then, but I want to put these lovers of mine to the test, and see if it's me they're after, or my supposed fortune. So I've held them all off and promised them an answer to-night here in the conser- vatory. Marie. All at the same time ? KiTTiE. Yes ; then I'll tell them the truth and see what they'll do. How's that for a dramatic climax? Marie. Quite thrilling; are there any others in the tableau ? KiTTiE. Well, little Willie Wishington has been follow- ing me around all afternoon, as if he had something on the place where his mind ought to be, but he hasn't succeeded in saying anything so far, and from present indications I don't think William will be in it. Marie. How about Mr. Van Devere ? KiTTiE. (//^ confusio)i) Oh, he hasn't said anything — only he has been very nice to me. Marie. Suppose he should propose ? KiTTiE. {quickly) Oh, I hope he won't. I mean, Mr, Van Devere is too much of a man of the world to care for me, and he's too rich for a fortune-hunter. Marie. Kittie, Kittie, he's the only one of them all who has touched your heart. Kittie. {sobbiiig) Oh, Marie, I can't help it ; but that's what makes me so miserable. I'm afraid he will despise me when he knows what a fraud I am. Marie. You love him, then? Kittie. {softly) I'm afraid I do. Marie. Poor little girl ! God grant that no sorrow may come to you through this masquerade, for to me it has brought a great happiness. Hush ! here comes some one. {Enter Vh^ Devere and Dick Schryver. Marie a?id Kittie sit concealed behind a clnmp of palms ^ Dick. Well, how are you enjoying yourself, old man ? A GILDED BRICK Van. Rather poorl}^ thanks. Dick. Oh, you old cynic ! You've been a society pet so long that you're spoiled. You don't enjoy life any more, except to laugh at it. Why, I think this the most delightful evening I ever spent ! Van. {nonchalantly) Why? Dick. Oh, the music, the flowers, the lights, the dresses — Van. Quite the regulation thing at most balls, I believe. Dick. There is something more, and that's what I've dragged you off here for — to tell you in private. Van. What's that ? Dick. You know Miss Clay — Marie Clay ? Van. Ah, Miss Bisque's companion ? Dick. Yes ; what do you think of her ? Van. Appears to be a very quiet, well-bred sort of girl. Dick, {eiilhnsiaslically) She's an angel. Van. Indeed? {Mild sensatio7i beJiind the palms — Marie and Kittie.) Dick. And she has promised to be my wife ! Kittie. {hugging Marie) Oh, you darling, why didn't you tell me ! Van. Well, well, Schryver, congratulations, I'm sure. I think she'll make you a good one. But — what are you going to live on ? Dick, {erithusiastically) Love ! Van. Very good to lend glamor to a scene like this, but scarcely strong enough to warm a house when coal is high. Dick. I know I'm a poor devil, who ought not to think of marrying, but Marie is a sensible girl. I've told her all this, and it didn't terrify her a bit. She says there are worse things in the world than poverty, and that we'll manage to live somehow until my books begin to sell. Van. Very brave of her. Few girls nowadays would dare as much. My blessing on you both, my boy ! ( TJiey shake hands. Marie a?td Kittie whisper behind the palms) Dick. Well, how is it, old man ; you seem to be struck on the heiress yourself. Haven't you enough money of your own, or is she a relief to these fortuneless damsels who are always throwing themselves and their families at your head ? Van. Who said I was struck ? {Curtly) Dick. Oh, nobody, but you seem to be in the chase. lO A GILDED BRICK Van. I'm not in the chase ! Dick. Now, don't be uppish, old man, you know you have paid her more attention than any other girl here. Van. Well, maybe I have. She interests me — mildly. She's fresh and original — evidently newly transplanted from her native fields to society's hothouse, but a decided relief from the regulation heiress. Dick. She's a regular brick ! Van. Yes, a gold brick ; and all these penniless pros- pectors are after her, Dick. Do you know, I believe if it wasn't for your con- founded pride, you'd turn prospector yourself. Van. Hang it, man, do you want me to confess that I'm in love with her, when I haven't known her a week ? I tell you, she interests me as a social study, a new specimen in this menagerie of ours. Dick. Ha ! ha ! Very good ; but don't get too close to the cage, or you may get caught. And if this is a menage- rie, here comes the hippopotamus, Mrs. Wishington, mother of the " moon calf," the greatest curiosity ever exhibited in any show. {E)iter Mrs. Wishington,/?/ and effusive) Mrs. Wishington. What's that about a show? Dick, {mendaciously) Oh, we were just talking about a new circus that's come to town. Mrs. Wishington. Ah, you giddy boys ! Still fond of monkeys, just like my Willie. That makes me think, you haven't seen Willie recently, have you ? I've lost track of him completely, and I'm afraid he will be getting into some trouble. {While Van and Dick deny all knowledge of Willie's whereabouts, Marie and Kittie slip out from behind the palms and appear as if from the door at the right. Mrs. Wishington discovers them first?) Mrs. Wishington. Ah, girls ! You here ? Kittie. {fiaively) Yes ; we just came in. (Marie and Dick pair off, a?id Van makes for Kittie, but Mrs. Wishington balks his plan.) Mrs. Wishington. Oh, Mr. Van Devere, would you do me the favor to look in the buffet and see if you can find Willie ? I'm so nervous about him. Send him here to me, please, while I have a nice long talk with dear Miss Bisque. A GILDED BRICK II (Van frowns mid obeys reluctantly ; Kittie makes a face ; Marie and Dick smile and walk l. Exit Van, c, Marie and Dick, l.) Mrs. Wishington. {embracing Kittie) Oh, you dear child! I've been longing for a nice, quiet chat with you all day. Kittie, {half aside, bid ivithout interrupting the torrent of Mrs. Wishington's talk) Sorry the desire has not been mutual. Mrs. Wishington, Come right over here and sit down, dear. ( They sit l,) Do you know, something about you reminds me of my Willie ? Kittie. Indeed ! Mrs. Wishington. If only he'd been a girl. It makes me feel just like a mother to you, poor, unprotected thing. Kittie, Thanks. I can take care of myself, Mrs. Wishington. Ah, but you need some one to warn you of the snares and pitfalls of society. Such an attrac- tive girl as you is always pursued — Kittie. For her money ? Mrs. Wishington. Quite right, my dear, and I want to warn you right now against that Van Devere. Not but that he appears all right, but — Kittie. But what ? Mrs. Wishington. {cautiously) They say he has been a terrible rake in his time. Kittie. Who says so ? Mrs. Wishington. Oh, it's common report, and I my- self know that he has traveled a great deal alone — some- thing I would never think of letting my Willie do — and they say he has almost dissipated his fortune. Kittie. Why, I thought he was considered quite rich ? Mrs. Wishington. That's what they say, but you know you can't depend on all you hear. Now, it would be just like him to try to repair his shattered fortunes by marrying you. Kittie. Thanks, but I happen to know that Mr. Van Devere has no such intentions. Besides, I would sooner suspect him of being a victim of fortune hunters than one himself. Mrs. Wishington. {i^elieved) That's so. Isn't h disgust- ing the way some girls throw themselves at his head ? I declare, when I witness such things I'm glad that I have no daughters. Besides, he might fall in love with them, and then I should be obhged to set my face against him. l.ofC. 12 A GILDED BRICK KiTTiE. {sarcastically) Luckily he is spared that pain. Mrs. WiSHiNGTON. But then he's not half so bad as some others I know. There's that Lord Fitznoodle, as he calls himself, although people say he is no lord at all, but just a common horse jockey ! KiTTiE. That's no disgrace among the British nobility, I believe. Mrs. Wishington. Then there's Count de Bogus. He may be a Count, for all I know ; Counts are dreadfully com- mon in Italy — but, do you know, there used to be a hand- organ grinder in the city who looked just like him, and if it wasn't the Count himself, I believe it was his brother. KiTTiE. {hotly) Oh, Mrs. Wishington, you make me tired ! Mrs. Wishington {still smili?ig) Don't say " tired," my dear, that's such a common word — say " weary." KiTTiE. Well, weary then, awfully weary ! Mrs. Wishington. That's just what my Willie says when I lecture him. But then you know it is a mother's duty, and I feel just like a mother to you. I've often wished I had a daughter, and if Willie ever wants a wife, I know whom I should choose. Willie admires you, too, very much. KiTTiE. {coldly) Highly flattered, I'm sure ! Mrs. Wishington. And he's such a dear good boy, Willie is— so domestic in his tastes. Ah, he'll make some girl a good husband, that I know, for I've trained him my- self and never let him go anywhere without me. Oh, here he comes now ! {Enter Willie Wishington, a vacuous dude, slightly tipsy and confused) Willie. Do you want me, mamma ? Mrs. Wishington. Yes, dearie, come right in. Miss Bisque and I have just been talking about you — now don't blush ! {to Kittie) — Willie is so modest, but that's a rare virtue in men nowadays. Willie, {stammering) How de do. Miss Bisque ? Kittie. {calmly) Very well, I thank you, Mr. Wish- ington. Mrs. Wishington. Here, Willie, take my seat beside Miss Bisque. I know you have something to say to her — {7iudging him vigorously). I'll leave you to yourselves {de- pai^ts with expressive pantomime to Willie). Now be good children ! {Exit Mrs. Wishington, c, triumphantly) A GILDED BRICK I3 (Willie edges nervously toivard settee, where Kittie sits with her back turned partly toward him) Willie, (aside) Mamma told me to pop the question to her to-night, so I went down and popped a cork or two for practice, te-he ! {Giggles tipsily) Mamma wrote out what I was to say to her, but, by Jove, I cawn't remember a word of it! That ginger ale must have gone to my head. I've got it here, though. {Shows paper in crown of his crush hat) So here goes ! {Braces up unsteadily to Kittie.) My dear Miss Bisque — Kittie. {faci?ig about sharply) Well ? Willie, {startled aiid confused) I have long telled to wish you — I mean I have long wished to tell you {forgets lines) — Kittie. Well, now's a good time. Willie, {looking in hat) I have longed wished to tell you of my ardent admiration for yourself and your {for- gets again) — Kittie. {suggestively) Money? Willie. Beg pawdon ; nothing about money, I assure you. {Looks i7i hat.) Yourself and your transcendent beauty — transcendent beauty ! Kittie. " Transcendent beauty " is good ; go on. Willie, {reading) I need not tell you that the Wishing- tons are a proud race, dating their ancestry back to-er-er {stuck)— Kittie. The ark, perhaps. I believe Noah had speci- mens of all living creatures on board. Willie, {studying his hat) I cawn't make it out, don't you know. Mamma wrote it out for me, and there's some- thing about " being proud to link our name with yours," and " kneel," yes, ** kneel," by jove ! {Kneels awkwardly in the centre of room) Kittie. Why, what is thi-s all about, Mr. Wishington ? {Stares at him) Willie, {badly embarrassed) I really don't know, don't ye know ; only mamma wished me to wish you — that is, to tell you that she wished you — that I wished you to become Mrs. Wishington ! {Exhausted) Kittie. Oh, is that all ? Why, I thought you were giv- ing me a lecture on genealogy, with illustrations in panto- mime. Then I am to consider this a proposal ? Willie, {meekly) Yes, ma'am, if you please. Kittie. Well, I can't give you an answer now; you must take your chances with the rest. 14 A GILDED BRICK Willie. Beg pawdon, with the rest ? KiTTiE. Certainly ; you are not the first nor only candi- date for my hand and fortune. Willie, {still more meekly) May I get up ? KiTTiE. Yes, do. You look awfully awkward there on your knees, and it's about time the others were coming. Willie. Don't I get any show, then ? KiTTiE. Certainly ; you shall have an equal chance with the others ; but I'm going to put you all to the test. Ah, here they come now ! (Jack appem^s r., Lord Fitznoodle c, and the Count l. All see Willie and each other, a?id hesitate to enter?) KiTTiE. Come in, gentlemen, all of you ; I'm waiting for you. Count de Bogus. Excuse me, Mees Bisque, but I didt'ink zat you vould be by your lonesome at dees hour — KiTTiE. Oh, that's all right. Count ; come right in. I'm ready for you. Lord Fitznoodle. Beg pawdon, but I thought I was the only starter in this heat, don't ye know — KiTTiE. Oh, no ; there are several hot favorites, and Mr. Wishington here has just entered — at long odds. {Turfiing to Jack.) Don't go, Mr. Dothunter, I'm expecting, you, too. Jack, {muttering) Some other time. KiTTiE. {decisively) No ; " now is the accepted time," or rejected, as you like. {All enter slowly and stand about nervously. Dick and Marie appear at door, l.) Marie. May we come in ? Kittie. Certainly ; come in. This little affair concerns you as much as myself or any of these gentlemen. (Dick and Marie enter ; suitors stand about silent and em- barrassed ; as Kittie commences to speak Mrs. Wishing- ton a7id Van Devere appear at centre door a?id sta?td lis - tenifig, Van Devere behind. Kittie. {steadily) Gentlemen, 3^ou have each done me the honor to offer your hand and name in exchange for my re- puted fortune, for, in spite of your flattery, you cannot con- vince me that hearts- enter into this transaction at all. It is purely a business matter on both sides ; my money buys your title or social position — isn't it so ? {Mild expressions A GILDED BRICK I5 of depyecatio7i and dissent all aroimd) Oh, yes it is. And so, before accepting any one of these proposals, I have called you all here to make a public explanation. I don't want to have you charge me afterward with obtaining a husband under false pretenses, so I tell you now that " my face is my fortune." I have no other. {Mild sensation all around^ Jack, {aside) She's bluffing. I looked her up in Brad- street's. Lord Fitznoodle. Beg pawdon, but aren't you the Bisque filly, backed by a cool million ? KiTTiE. No ; there stands the real Miss Bisque. {Poi?iti?ig to Marie.) Count de Bogus {excitedly) Ah, but why dis deception ? Did you not announce yourself as ze real Miss Bisque and she your companion ? KiTTiE. No, sir. We simply exchanged our last names by mutual consent, and allowed you to believe what you liked. You thought me a " gold brick," but it is merely gild- ing. Isn't that true, Marie ? (Marie nods assent, at which Mrs. Wishington, who has been an interested listeiier at back, shrieks, a?id pretends to faitit 171 Van Devere's arms. Great confusion ; all rush toward her. Willie. Oh ! oh ! mamma has fainted ! Somebody get something, quick ! Jack. I'll go. {Exit hurriedly, r.) Count de Bogus. No, let me. {Exit L.) Lord Fitznoodle. All off together. {Exit c.) {At the denouement Dick and Marie stop behind palms for mutual explanations, leaving Kittie alo)ie in the centre.) Mrs. Wishington. {reviving) Oh, where am I ? Where's Willie ? {She braces up and glares at Kittie.) Oh, the shame- less hussy ! To think that she might have entrapped my poor Willie ! {Exit centre, dragging Willie by the arm) 1 6 A GILDED BRICK {Crushed and almost crying, Kittie stands alone in the ceti' tre. Van Devere comes slowly down to her — she hears him a?id turns quickly.) Kittie. {sharply) Well, what are you doing here ? Why don't you run off with the rest of them ? Van. {slowly) Because I want to ask you to become my wife. Kittie. {surprised) But I'm not even "a gilded brick" now ; the gilding's all rubbed off. ( The last almost sadly.) Van. You're a genuine brick, which is better, and I want you for my own fireside. {Comes closer, but Kittie draws back) Kittie. {saucily) Indeed ! Maybe you want to make a closer study of me ; I'm told I interest you — mildly. {Mimics him.) Van. {aside) The deuce ! She must have heard me. Kittie. {in the same baritering to?ie) Or possibly you would like a new specimen for your own private menagerie. Van. {earnestly) Oh, Kittie, don't make a fool of me, as you did of the others. Tell me plainly, do you love me — yes or no ? (Marie appears from behind the pahns, where she has been with Dick.) Marie. Yes ; she has confessed it to me. Van. My darling! {Catches Kittie in his arms and kisses her) Dick. Ditto here. {Hugs Marie.) curtain Practical Elocution By J, W. Shoemaker, A. M. 300 pages Cloth, Leather Back, $1.2$ This work is the outgrowth of actual class-room experience, and is a practical, common-sense treatment of the whole subject. It is clear and concise, yet comprehensive, and is ____ absolutely free from the entangling^ technicalities that are so frequently found in books this class. ' ^" Conversation, which is the basis of all true klocutioii, is regarded as embracing all the germs of speech and action. Prominent attention is therefore given to the cultivation of this the most common form of human ex- pression. General principles and practical processes are pre- sented for the cultivation of strength, purity, and flexi- bility of Voice, for the improvement of distinctness and correctness in articulation, and for the development of Soul Power in delivery. The work includes a systematic treatment of Gesture In its several departments of position, facial expression, and bodily movement, a brief system of Gymnastics bearing upon vocal development and grace of move- ment, and also a chapter on Methods of Instruction, for teachers. Sold by all booksellers, or sent, prepaid, upon receipt of price. The Penn Publishing Company 923 Arch Street, Philadelphia LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 016 112 662 7 # SHOEMAKER^S 1 he National School °f Klocution and Oi*^tory ii ODD FELLOWS' TEMPLE Broad and Cherry Streets Philadelphia "PERSONS wishing- to obtain practical training; and •^ artistic culture in Elocution and Oratory should attend this institution* It is the oldest chartered school of expression in America* Its students and graduates, numbering; thousands, are to be found in all parts of this country and Canada, occupying prominent positions as Public Readers, Teachers of Elocution, Clergymen, Lecturers, Actors, etc* Instruction thorough in all that pertains to a well- rounded elocutionary education* A corps of eminent teachers, each a specialist in his own department* All facilities first-class* In addition to the regular Day Classes there are special Evening and Saturday courses* Special Summer course. Private instruction* Grad- uating; courses one and two years* Illustrated catalogue giving full information sent on application* Princi als / ^^^' J* ^* SHOEMAKER """"^^ I GEORGE B* HYNSON, ESQ.